Storiesonline.net ------- Strange Relationships by Thinking Horndog Copyright© 2006 by Thinking Horndog ------- Description: Second Best, Book II. If you haven't read Second Best, you'll probably survive -- but it will give you something to do, after... Strange Relationships was a finalist for the Silver Clitoride Award for April 2006. Codes: MF mf FF ff MM mm Mult slow rom 1st teen cons non-con rape reluc mc bi het D/S Mdom span rough humil tort gang group exhib voy interr WC BC BF BM WM WF safe oral anal mastrb toys ws enem BBW ------- ------- Copyright © Thinking Horndog, 2006 ------- Chapter 1: As You Remember Last Time... Sharon Wilson sat on her bed, slowly dragging on her nylons. It was Wednesday, only a couple of days after her daughter Nora's Senior Prom - an event which had triggered several unforeseen consequences. Certainly, when she'd seen Nora to the door Saturday night under the somewhat reluctant escort of little Teddy Frick - who was lending a thin air of credibility to both Nora and her rather unfortunately shaped friend, Mary Nally, despite the fact that Sharon suspected that he had little interest in girls -- she hadn't expected the circumstances of Nora's return home! Sharon hadn't even bothered to take photos of Nora and the Frick boy -- she had known that as a couple they weren't memorable. Early Sunday morning, though, the Frick boy was nowhere to be seen; Nora's replacement escort was a lanky black boy named Nate Adams. To say that this development had surprised Sharon no end was to understate the case; she'd been beside herself when she'd snatched them in off the porch in an attempt to keep Armand from discovering the sideshow... Armand. The fact that she'd been divorced from the man for almost eighteen years didn't keep him from occupying a central position in Sharon's life. He'd divorced her when Nora was a baby, but that didn't mean his influence over either of them was at an end; in fact, to know Armand was to be influenced by him -- and to be married to him was slavery. Sharon had managed to survive for almost three years, but she was permanently marked -- and no one knew better than she that she would never fully escape Armand's control. This morning was a case in point; Sharon had an eleven o'clock appointment to see her ex-husband at his offices in the City -- an appointment dictated by Armand. Sharon was, therefore, wearing hose and a garter belt. Why? Because Armand did not like pantyhose; they brought out his mean streak. He'd shred them thoroughly, and probably gag her with them or something equally fiendish. True, she'd wear panties, and he'd shred THEM, too, but that was a game; Sharon wore them as an act of defiance, and Armand shredded them to prove his control. It was a dance they'd repeated many times; Armand expected the token resistance, and took some mild pleasure in reducing the meager defense. Pantyhose, however, irritated Armand, something you did at your peril; the time he'd bound her to a chair with them and left her for several hours, ultimately to soil herself, had made his position in the matter quite clear. In fact, she'd borne marks for a month after from the bindings, not to mention the embarrassment and humiliation... The stained chair was present in his office for months after the incident, although she was certain that it only appeared just before she did, and disappeared soon after. And it would be the ONLY piece of furniture in the room available for her use, too -- Armand was like that; he loved to twist the knife, reminding her of her failures... Armand ALWAYS met her in his office -- but that didn't keep him from renewing his hold on her in some manner, every single time. Sex was a favorite; he'd cow her into some act, and then, in the middle, he'd add to her misery by inviting in his latest 'toy' -- usually a competitor for the position she'd held so long ago. On the odd occasion, positions would be reversed -- Armand would have her watch in embarrassment while he throat- fucked or ass-fucked some model (who was usually on the way out -- humiliation before Sharon was a sure sign of failure). Armand could be brutal, and often was, particularly after he'd destroyed his victim's resistance; boredom would set in and he'd content himself with torturing their bodies, having broken their spirit. Sharon mentally reviewed the list and shuddered; Armand appeared to have no limits as a dilettante. Once, he'd entertained himself with some unfortunate male in her presence -- God knew what Armand had had on the poor man that he allowed Armand to ram his cock down his throat and then brutally sodomize him while obviously being traumatized by the experience. The act had been particularly disturbing to Sharon, and she'd stayed away for over a month afterward -- until Armand would no longer take no for an answer -- but on her return, things were back to normal, more or less; he'd bent her over his desk, and with his cock in her ass, called in some big-titted blonde on some pretext... Sharon supposed that Armand had had a couple of transvestites in his time, too... Why did she continue to expose herself to his depredations? Well, there were three reasons: First, and foremost, unless Armand willed it, escape was absolutely impossible. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide... Second, the hand that lay so heavily upon her every few days also dispensed the good things in life for herself and her daughter. The alimony and child support that Armand's lawyers had bullied her into were meager, and she was unfit for normal work (she thought - the reality differed by a great deal), but the arrangement that they'd stumbled into wherein Sharon discovered charitable outlets for Armand's empire that managed to convey commercial advantage to him brought her 'gifts' -- additional monies that eased them through the tougher times and allowed occasional holidays or sprees. Last... Sharon shied away from an examination of that final reason; she knew it was there, but she couldn't deal with the admissions involved. Sharon had been raised in a tight, dark box bounded by her parent's Puritanical superstitions; Armand, from the first, had cared little for such foolishness -- except in the fact that it fueled the fires of her resistance to him. He would snatch her out of that box and use her without mercy, then allow her to return to the security of its confines and deny that she had the power to resist the awful acts while insisting that she'd TRIED -- and refusing to admit that she'd enjoyed both the acts themselves and the humiliation and sometimes pain that went with them immensely. And enjoy them she did; Armand had seen to that from her earliest training. The night of their first date, he took her virginity, brutally, but he saw to it that she had one orgasm, and approached that point a second time -- then emptied himself in her, leaving her hanging, frustrated. Her mind remembered failure -- but her body remembered success, and it was traitorous forever after. Events prompted by Nora's Prom Night escapade had made denial seriously difficult, for a number of reasons, first among which being that it is difficult to deny enjoying something when you've SEEN yourself awash in the throes of passion! Armand's telephone call early on that Sunday morning following the Prom had been thoroughly unexpected from the standpoint of his reaction to Nora's choice in boyfriends -- Armand had surprised them both with his approval of the Adams boy, despite his race and other apparent disadvantages -- but his dealings with Sharon over the phone had been pure Armand -- thoroughly fiendish... Sharon sat there on the bed, stocking in hand, replaying the event and those that followed in her memory... Nora wordlessly passed the phone to Sharon, who took it gingerly. Having the advantage of being able to see her via hidden cameras, Armand announced without preamble, "It appears that you may have periodically done something right, after all! While I will continue to investigate him, I have no issues with Nora's choice in male companions at this time. In fact, I'm highly pleased that she had the backbone to take on such a challenge!" He paused a moment, enjoying the play of expression on his ex-wife's features, then: "You will write her a note excusing her from school starting at," he glanced at Jason's notes, "10:00 a.m. Jorge will pick her up in my limo to take her to my staff gynecologist, who will examine her and prescribe methods of birth control. She is to telephone my office regarding future needs in this area -- I will see to it that she gets the best. Are we clear?" "Yes, Armand," Sharon murmured tonelessly. "Nora's exercise in team calisthenics reminds me that your sexual horizons have been somewhat limited for some time. That doesn't seem fair to me. You DO appear to enjoy sex, still - even with me..." Armand smiled, watching Sharon's vain attempt to hide her reaction to his teasing. "Isn't that right?" It killed her to admit it, and she blushed crimson, but she uttered the only possible answer, "Yes." Armand pretended to be pensive, "Yet I have no evidence that in between your visits to me you conduct any sexual activity at all -- even playing with yourself! Why is that?" "I-I," Sharon stopped, unable to continue. How could she answer with Nora sitting right there? "Uh, because I don't!" "Why not? Surely you don't think I expect to approve your sexual partners?" Armand watched Sharon sit staring at Nora, fearful that she had divined the subject of the conversation. Sharon finally opened her mouth, but he forestalled her, smoothly, "Yes, you do -- and you would be correct." The steel under the velvet in his voice was distinctly detectable. "Still, I don't think I'm doing you justice. How long has it been since our last encounter?" "Uhhh, two weeks," Sharon replied, voice beginning to shake. Where was he going with this? "Seventeen days is more like it," Armand corrected. "Did you enjoy it? Hmmm, probably not -- as I remember it was just a blowjob, more for little Felicia's entertainment than anything else. Remind me to discuss Felicia with you next time -- she's been a surprise, and I think you may have contributed to it." Armand turned and locked gazes with the redhead, who was present in his media room with him. Yes, the realization that there was no possibility of escape that Sharon's treatment had engendered had probably been pivotal... Actually, Sharon HAD enjoyed it -- at least that part of her that reveled in Armand's abuse had... But she couldn't admit it, and that inability was one of the things about her that gave Armand pleasure -- that and the fact that her face gave her away... Grinning, he continued, "Next time, we'll do anal -- be ready. In fact, why don't you come around on Wednesday? We can discuss our offspring, before -- or during..." Sharon was endlessly entertaining, he mused, as he watched her shudder with arousal and cringe simultaneously. Sharon DID enjoy anal sex -- but was even less capable of admitting it. It was wrong, and dirty -- and it was capable of generating powerful orgasms in her when Armand cared to do it right. Armand chuckled and set the next needle: "In the meantime, what can I do for you? Send you some toys? Jason, make a note." He flicked a glance at his second in command, who began writing busily on the pad he was carrying. "How about a nice black buck of your own to keep you in tune? Someone decorative, that you can take to bleeding heart charity functions, but with a nice long, fat cock to stick in your holes?" Armand's pleasure was more than evident as the woman's image on the video screen shaded toward the red. "But why be stingy? Maybe I should round up two or three, to visit you in rotation, or -- dare I say it? -- simultaneously?" Nora looked on, amazed, while her mother, beet red, clutched the phone in a white-knuckle grip and shook. What was he saying to her? "I-I really don't need that, Armand," Sharon forced out. "Nonsense!" Armand disagreed, "At a minimum, you can expect the toys and some videos this afternoon, by courier. Use them, or I will send someone along to help you, understood?" "Yes, Armand," Sharon choked out. "And another thing," Armand pressed, "It is past time that you informed our daughter that our sexual relationship continues in force -- I'll not have her holding your weak bones up for sainthood." "B-but... !" Sharon sputtered. "Do it, my Dear," Armand ordered, "or I will -- and I'll show video footage to prove it!" "V-video?" Sharon was aghast. "Of course," Armand replied, unperturbed, "I'll tuck a couple in with the other videos in this afternoon's delivery." He paused a moment, enjoying the visual effects of this new revelation. Sharon was near apoplexy. With artificial gentleness, he continued, "I know this is a big step for you, so I'll give you a couple of days -- but if you don't comply, I WILL show her, and then send her home to find you being checked for air- tightness by three big black bucks! Do you know what that means?" "N-noo..." Real fear gripped Sharon. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good -- and she had a sinking feeling that it would be Armand's new favorite threat. And he ALWAYS followed through, eventually... Armand chuckled, "It means that each of them will be filling one of your available holes with cock! Now are we clear? Or do I start looking for candidates?" Sharon shook like a leaf; the threat was classic Armand -- horrible, yet magnetically compelling. It would live in her dreams, good and bad, for the near future... "I understand," she choked out. "Good," Armand purred. "I'll see you Wednesday, then -- at eleven, I think. Unless something else comes up... Remember to use the toys -- but not on your ass, I want it nice and tight!" Armand hung up. So badly shaken was Sharon that Nora managed to pry an admission of her ongoing sexual relationship with Armand from her within moments. Jorge, Armand's chauffer, delivered Armand's little care package that afternoon, his grin showing nearly every one of his perfect white teeth. Obviously, the little Puerto Rican knew the box's contents. Sharon managed to limit the revelation of her humiliation to a mild blush as she took it and thanked the dapper little man politely. Jorge nodded and made himself scarce without comment. Nora was present, and the women had shared a significant glance, but Sharon had retired upstairs to inventory the box's content in privacy. There were several items: a large, 'realistic' black dildo; two different 'normal' vibrators and a butterfly clitoral stimulator; some large beads on a string that Sharon didn't know what to make of -- and several DVDs. The lurid cases of the first half-dozen proclaimed their contents pretty clearly, but there were two at the back in plain cases... Opening one, she noted that the disk was marked with a series of dates -- that was all; but a little thought told her that she'd been in Armand's office on each of them. That night, two glasses of red wine had fortified her to the point that she could attempt compliance with Armand's instructions. Selecting the least imposing of her new collection of vibrators, she bent to an examination of her viewing materials. The homemade items were rapidly returned to the box; Sharon would require some desensitization to porn before she could countenance anything so personal. Flipping through the other selections, she discovered a variety: some BDSM, gang-bang compendia, bisexual, interracial -- even something with dogs and horses, apparently. Well, interracial seemed to be the hot topic... Sharon had settled back and gingerly applied the vibrator while watching two sequences in which hugely endowed blacks plowed somewhat submissive if not actively masochistic white women. Orgasms turned out to be relatively easily produced; Sharon had four before she fell asleep, exhausted. Sharon would have been a lot less at ease had she known that her every move was being taped from two different angles! While she was aware that Armand had both her and Nora under surveillance, she'd not been allowed to realize the intensity of it; Armand had her entire house wired for sound and video, along with a dedicated team of private investigators that tracked them EVERYWHERE. Sharon's gingerly executed antics with the vibrator went straight to DVD, to be delivered to Armand with his morning paper and coffee -- for Armand was a bit of a voyeur, and Nora and Sharon were the stars of his favorite TV show... ------- Monday went pretty much per Armand's instructions; the first part of that Sunday telephone call had included instructions for Sharon and Nora to facilitate Nora's appointment at Armand's staff gynecologist to acquire birth control. Jorge, Armand's chauffer, picked Nora up at school at 10:00 and delivered her to the posh offices of an uptown gynecologist, who poked and prodded her and wielded a speculum. "This looks recent," he announced, examining the remnants of her hymen. Nora, already blushing at the unaccustomed invasion, (being examined in bright light, nude from the waist down, on a table with her feet up and spread was a new experience), replied, "Yes, Sir, Saturday night." Doctor Beckman frowned, and announced, "I would normally launch into my standard lecture about the perils of STDs, but since you're coming from Armand Wilson, I'm going to assume that that's the least of your worries..." "Oh?" Nora replied, interested, "My father sends you many patients, then?" Doctor Beckman blanched. "You're his daughter?" Somehow, he managed to keep from bursting out with, "This is a new low!" In nearly two decades of dealings with Armand Wilson, he'd seen about everything, but deflowering his own daughter? Nora, wondering what occasioned the response, murmured "Yes... Since I'm here for birth control so my boyfriend doesn't have to wear rubbers, I imagine Daddy would want you to give it to me anyway..." "Oh. Hmmph." Settling in to do the cervical exam, Beckman proceeded to deliver his lecture, "Birth control protects you from pregnancy, but not disease. Rubbers, as you call them, protect you from both, despite the discomforts. HIV is only the worst of the evils out there; there is also herpes, which is equally incurable, and half a hundred more minor infections. Seventy-five years ago, syphilis would have been the most serious, but it's a brave new world. Do you intend having more than one partner?" "Not at one time," Nora responded, combing her mouse brown locks with her fingers. "I have only one in mind, for now." "Hmph. Good," Beckman responded. "Do you know where he's been?" he asked, while collecting Nora's first PAP smear. "I have a pretty good idea," Nora responded. "He'd probably be reluctant to admit it, but I think I'm his only partner, ever. Certainly, he's been doing without for a while..." Nora smiled fondly. "Hmph. Well, if things stay that way, it's better than nothing," Beckman responded. "If you can't abstain, and won't use prophylactics, keeping the number of your partners down is the next best thing. Of course, you have to control HIS, too..." Beckman gave Nora the fisheye. "Of course, being Armand's daughter, you'd know all about control..." Nora rose up on her elbows and engaged Beckman's eyes. "Not really -- maybe you can tell me? You see, I don't live with my father -- yesterday was the first time I spoke directly with him in years. I know how he works, though..." She eyed Beckman for a moment, then: "What's he got on YOU?" Beckman's blanch told her she was on target, but he refused to reveal anything. "Hmmph -- never mind. You're right, though - nobody ELSE gets next-day appointments. He can be VERY persuasive." He finished up and removed his gloves. "You appear to be fine, although I'm going to have my lab tech draw blood and test you for everything under the sun; it's too early for most diseases to show up, so if you start having any symptoms of any type, call me." He inked a number on a prescription slip and passed it to her, murmuring, "Take it easy on that -- it's my private number." Nora nodded, silently recognizing more evidence of her father's hold on Dr. Beckman. "Go ahead and get dressed," he added, handing her another slip with a Pill prescription and a third with a morning-after contraceptive prescription. "The Pill takes a bit; don't expect it to be fully effective until your next period. This should tide you over, although it tends to cause cramps. Best if you continue to use prophylactics until then. If your relationship is stable then, fine. If not, and if you're NOT sexually active, I'd advise not using the Pill. Tell my assistant I said to give you some foam samples on the way out, in case you just can't handle rubbers. And you can get THEM from my assistant, too." He turned and walked out. Dr. Beckman's assistant directed Nora to his lab where his tech fulfilled the promise of the blood draw, after which she returned to the assistant for the product samples. On the way out, however, Beckman was standing there, scratching notes on her chart. Handing it to her, he directed, "Give this to your driver." Nora gave it a glance; yes. it was hers. "Why?" "It's a duplicate. He'll want to know." Nora frowned, but compared this with her mother's comments of the day before. "This seems to be old hat. How many women has my father sent you?" Beckman eyed her for a moment. "I take care of the women on his household staff, and he habitually sends me his current partners to check for disease." "You're not telling me something -- maybe several things. How many is that?" Beckman sighed, "Come with me." The entered what was obviously his private office, and he waved her into a chair. "You don't live with him, then? What do you know of your father?" "I know that he is rich, but he keeps us on a tight leash. I know that he divorced my mother when I was a baby, but he controls us -- usually just my mother -- nonetheless. I recently learned that he still has sex with her, but it is mostly a control thing, I think. I know we're watched constantly, but I don't know why." Beckman eyed her for a bit, then: "Okay, I'll answer a few of your questions. You understand that this might actually be dangerous to me?" Nora's eyebrows rose. "Really?" "If he doesn't want you to know..." Beckman was pensive for a moment. "You father is... predatory. He has an iron will, and he enjoys controlling others, preferably against theirs. I've treated your mother; apparently, she was among his first victims. She apparently has a submissive streak, and in their years together, he thoroughly controlled her -- I doubt that she could ever break those chains, now. But I've also treated a couple of hundred other women..." He smiled without humor. "But seldom more than once." Nora blinked. "That many?" Beckman nodded. "Armand goes through them quickly. Women are attracted into his orbit by the idea of being Mrs. Armand Wilson, but it's a trap. Armand pulls them in, and uses their greed and stupidity to slowly degrade them to a state where they will do absolutely anything he tells them to -- and then he usually puts them back out on the street, bored with their lack of resistance. They seldom last a month; the more successful ones enter his household staff, where he uses them in rotation between interludes with his other 'toys'." "Anything? Kinky stuff?" "Anything and everything. Your father is into sadomasochism, dominance and submission -- if there is a name for a particular sexual perversion, he's probably tried it -- and a couple without names, too, no doubt. I've treated women that he tried experiments with that went too far... Women who had obviously been used by a football team... A large number who had simply been ridden hard and put up wet, vaginally or anally... He hasn't killed anyone that I know of, but he's injured a few. And I'm certain that there are a few males out there, too..." He paused a moment. "I, uh, actually assumed that HE deflowered you..." That last one stunned Nora. "He's THAT BAD?" Beckman shrugged. "Well, to be fair, they usually ask for it, one way or another. The smart ones get out early. But your father is a wholesale dealer in blackmail -- many simply may have had no choice..." Nora looked pensive. "Thanks, Doctor. You've given me a lot to think about." "If he's been watching you all your life, you're probably immune to most of his antics," Beckman observed. "Your mother occupies a special place with him -- he's still interested in her. If he's been content to keep an eye on you, I'd assume that incest isn't on his hit list, and eventually you may even accrue some benefit from being family. It's just a guess, though." He got up and showed her out of the office. "Good luck! Call me if you need anything." "Thanks, Doctor." A thoughtful Nora returned to the parking garage and surrendered her chart to Jorge. "Back to school, Miss?" Jorge inquired as they pulled away from the entrance to the garage. "Yes," Nora returned, distractedly. After a moment, she slid up and hit the intercom, "Jorge, tell me about my father." "Miss?" Jorge was instantly nervous. "I've been told that my father sees a lot of women, and... abuses them. Is this true?" Jorge sat a moment, thinking furiously. No, it wasn't safe. He opened his mouth -- and the phone rang. Jorge picked up, and a familiar voice said, "Tell her what she wants to know. There will be no repercussions." "Yes, Sir." Jorge turned his attention to the rear view mirror to find Nora looking around, wide-eyed. "Miss?" "My father called you?" Nora accused. "Yes, Miss. What are you looking for?" "The bug. The car IS bugged, isn't it?" "Yes, Miss." Nora nodded to herself. "Video, too?" "Yes, Miss." "So I can expect nothing from you," she theorized. "No, Miss -- he told me to answer." Jorge eyed her through the mirror. "What else did he say?" Nora demanded. "That there would be no repercussions." Nora sat back, musing. "That's important, isn't it?" "Yes, Miss." "What could he do? Fire you?" The intercom came on, and the voice was NOT Jorge's. "No. I would probably take more punitive measures. Jason, my assistant, is in charge of the household staff. He can be quite cruel in delivering lessons regarding disobedience or unauthorized confidences." Nora, to her credit, recovered quickly. "Hi, Daddy." After a moment, she theorized, "Doctor Beckman is in trouble, isn't he?" There was a pause. "Yes, and no. I have no problem with the confidences themselves. I DO, however, have a problem with his delivering them without authority." "Daddy, I think that he considered the fact that I'm your daughter... relevant." Another pause. "I will take that into account, and limit my reaction. Your efforts to protect your sources do you credit, Daughter." Another pause. "I will take my leave -- I have other pressing business. Jorge, you may answer ANY question my daughter puts to you, understood?" "Yes, Sir." "Goodbye, then." The intercom clicked off. Nora sat a moment. "That isn't all there is to it, is it?" "Miss?" "He's recording this, isn't he?" "Yes, Miss. Almost certainly." "Just how closely ARE my mother and I watched?" "Very closely, Miss. Very, very closely. Um, you have no secrets." "Our house is bugged?" "Yes, Miss." Jorge eyed her via the mirror. "Completely." "My mother tells me he took videos of them having sex in his office. Should I assume... ?" "Yes, Miss." "Does my mother know?" "Yes and no, Miss. She knows that she is being watched. She does not know how closely. Mr. Wilson has not seen fit to tell her; I believe that this is because it would be... unsettling to her." Jorge's eyes again left the road to engage Nora's. "There is more." It was a statement, not a question. "Your father has discussed your mother in my presence several times. I think that he divorced her because being in his presence daily was threatening to destroy her. It might be... unwise for her to discover that she is even less free than she imagines." "Why does he do this? Does he do it to everyone?" Jorge hesitated, then shrugged. "I think that he watches you and your mother more closely than anyone else -- even the household staff." Nora thought back to a comment that her mother had made the previous morning: ' "Maybe we should be flattered -- undoubtedly the surveillance he places on us is fantastically expensive. In his twisted way, I suppose he loves us." ' "This has to be expensive, Jorge. Why didn't he just keep us at home?" "I cannot say, Miss. Perhaps..." Jorge mused for a moment. "Mr. Wilson does many things that it would not be a good thing to do in the presence of children... Perhaps he did this for your protection." Nora realized that they had arrived at their start point. "Like what, Jorge? This is where we came in; I was told that my father goes through women pretty rapidly..." "Si. Uh, yes, Miss. They come, and he... uses them. Many times, he uses them up -- pretty quick!" "He plays rough?" "Rough, demanding -- love is not your father's way, Miss. He must take what he wants, and he prefers to have... resistance." Jorge glanced up to see how she was taking this. Nora, however, was bearing up well -- and interested. "We're pussyfooting around, Jorge. I understand that my father is into S and M -- beatings and torture and such. Mass rape, maybe?" "Your father does many things," Jorge admitted. "Mostly, it is about controlling people, more than sex. He likes to see them... stressed." Nora eyed him sidelong via the mirror, "Has he ever mistreated you?" "No, Miss. He CAN abuse men sexually -- I have seen it -- but it was always about humiliation, not pleasure. Usually, it is a rival, or someone who caused a problem." He mused a moment. "He may have directed that it be done -- or Jason..." "... May have decided to act on his own?" Nora finished the thought. "Si -- yes, Miss." Familiarity and stress were taking a toll on Jorge's speech patterns. "So you HAVE been mistreated -- and you're still here." Nora awaited an explanation. Jorge shrugged. "Mr. Wilson is very generous to me and my family. Things are good as long as I serve him well." He glanced up in the mirror, and saw that it wasn't enough. "And he... knows things..." he finished lamely. "Huh." Nora's eyes hooded. Beckman was right; Daddy was a wholesale dealer in blackmail. Well, he wanted her to know... The car pulled into the school parking lot, and Nora glanced up to meet Jorge's eyes as he opened the door. "Thanks, Jorge -- this has been enlightening. I'm sure I will see you again; I'll be interested to know if my father keeps his promise of amnesty." She collected her bag of samples and exited the car. The phone at Jorge's hip buzzed, and he answered it. "Yes, Sir." He held out the phone to Nora, who took it gingerly. A chuckle sounded through the earpiece. "You DO have the family instinct for protecting your sources," her father announced. "Yes, Daddy. I guess I do," Nora agreed ruefully. "Well, Jorge is in no danger," Armand brushed it off. "I'd like to invite you to dinner, Thursday, at my home," he continued. "Okay," Nora agreed warily. "When do we come?" "Just you," Armand demurred. "Your mother has never been here, and I'd prefer it for now that things continue that way. We need to discuss some realities -- things that I will need to introduce to your mother gently, if and when the time is right. You appear to be made of... sterner stuff. Not that your mother lacks resilience, but too much, too quickly..." "I see," Nora replied guardedly. "Jorge will pick you up at seven, Thursday evening, and return you before your usual bedtime." Obviously, he knew when THAT was... "Are we agreed?" "Yes, Daddy. Should I dress up?" "Don't go overboard; it will be just us and the household staff -- and any houseguests I might have." "Fine, Daddy. I'll see you then!" Nora handed the phone to Jorge, who held up a hand. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a pad, on which he jotted a number. "Jason's number -- in case there is a problem," he explained. Nora nodded, took the slip, and returned to classes. The day continued, basically uneventful. Nora had returned in time for the last lunch period, so she skipped Geometry in order to eat. All of her friends (and most of the Seniors) had early lunch, so she was left alone. The remaining class was the usual drill, not worth mentioning. Nate collected her after school, and the new group -- Tenisha and Draper, Mary, Stick, and Teddy -- hung out and swapped tales in the parking lot for a bit before splitting up to go home, Nate driving Nora while Draper took Tenisha and Teddy handling Mary and Stick. That last trio... Nora couldn't wait to get Mary alone and discover what was up, there... Sharon had occupied her Monday morning with early calls to the administrators of some local charities, trolling a bit; her 'job' required that she know the staff and inner workings of a number of charitable institutions in order to spend Armand's largess effectively. Once she'd gotten settled, it soon appeared that everyone knew everyone; now, very little got past her network of connections -- certainly nothing local. This year, obtaining a 'gift' from Armand might be tough; he had a full bank of goodwill from local officials and no particular axes to grind. That might mean a trip or two to some of the locales of Armand's distribution centers or something... Nora's call to tell her that all had gone well found her doing laundry -- a quick look at her watch told her that she'd not have much more time alone that day. Best to take another look at the goody box -- God knew how Armand would determine whether she had or not, but it was best not to take chances. Entering her bedroom, Sharon went to the window and fussed with the sheers -- deliberately leaving an opening facing the neighboring house that she was pretty sure housed Armand's surveillance team -- and crossed to her bureau and began digging in the collection. There was a certain amount of serious embarrassment to the idea of deliberately facilitating the surveillance, but Sharon knew Armand; if he couldn't verify that she was following his instructions, things would escalate. Giving some poor fellow a bit of a long-distance ogle through her window was better than answering the door to a rape squad... Little did she know that no one was going to bother with the window when there were two normal spectrum and one night vision spy cam set up in her room. The operative of the detective agency that Armand basically owned, through puppets, merely had to tune their scans via the joystick controllers to optimize the view anywhere in the room, and he had a fine sense of what was likely to be grist for his client's mill -- recorders were already running. Sharon deliberately avoided the large, 'realistic' black rubber cock; sober reflection had caused her to think that the interracial thing was getting enough press -- best not to emphasize it. Besides, the thing was kind of lank and didn't even vibrate... The previous evening's activity had reminded her of the power that even a small vibrator could bring to bear; it had been a long, long time since Armand had used one on her, and she'd always assumed that the other components of her arousal had been what had put her over the top on those occasions -- but last night's activities had taught her that the device was more than adequate to handle the job by itself. Today, though, she selected the more robust seven-inch model, something capable of reminding her of the joys of penetration as well as jangling the nerves in her clitoris. Digging through the videos, she selected the most innocuous of the selection, a gang-bang compendium, (she fingered the homemade videos that she'd apparently starred in, but, no, not yet... ), and slid it into her player, then stepped out of her panties and settled herself on the bed. Unbuttoning her blouse and popping the clasp of her bra while the credits and phone sex ads blew by, she wondered if she was adequately visible -- after all, more than anything else she was doing this in order prove to Armand that she was following instructions... Sober reflection on the process led her to re-settle at the foot of the bed, then stand and slide out of her skirt before re-seating herself -- after all, she didn't want to stain her skirt... But now she looked ridiculous -- naked from the waist down, with her blouse and bra in disarray. She stood again and slid out of her loosened upper garments, placing them on the blanket chest, and went to get a robe -- full nudity was, well, a bit much... 'Besides, ' she ruminated, 'with my ass... ' Finishing the thought consciously was a bit beyond her -- it led to the serious embarrassment she would feel at this exercise in exhibitionism if she faced it directly, despite the clear reasons for it. Nonetheless, there was a tingle in her crotch that she was careful to avoid thinking about possible sources of; the admission that the exposure was arousing wasn't something she'd willingly admit to. Sharon's body type was a bit odd; in general, Nora shared it, although still blessed with the freshness of youth. Sharon's hair was somewhat thin and mouse brown, and she had plain features -- she wasn't ugly or anything, merely unremarkable. When you got beyond that, things were pretty good -- to the waistline; Sharon's waist had thickened a bit with age and childbirth, but she wasn't heavy -- in fact she was somewhat petite. The globular breasts that Nora sported had their counterparts in Sharon that, while having slid just a bit on her chest over time, were still highly presentable. But the pair shared another feature that got them ridicule on one hand and ignored on the other; each ballooned at the hips to a wide, bubble butt that their otherwise petite frames emphasized, especially since they again narrowed by knee level to quite fetching calves and ankles. The disproportionate layout made them look somewhat cartoonish; each had been teased regularly with 'bubble butt' being a favorite epithet. Sharon had no idea what had attracted Armand to her in high school -- suddenly, he'd just been there, and the lack of attention she'd gotten from other boys left her unprepared to deal with him... Sharon settled her embarrassingly wide fundament back on the foot of the bed and opened the robe. The video's start was rather mechanical, so it took several minutes before the action on the screen began to excite her. Touching herself wasn't something Sharon did, anyway -- this was somewhat of an adventure in that sense. Her puritanical upbringing had been reinforced by Armand, who had assumed control of such things for his purposes; thus, she'd never even given it any thought as a viable outlet until Armand's surprising announcement that he expected it of her. Last night had been somewhat of a revelation, but there was still an embarrassed reticence to her actions -- a thing augmented by the assumption that she was being watched... But the fires slowly built as she watched some 'poor thing' settle her ass over the cock of a reclining male, lean back, and accept another in her already obviously heavily used vaginal passage. Certainly there was something forbidden about that... Armand had never shared her with anyone, except visually -- there had been any number of times that he'd invited some air-head model type to watch while he plowed one of her available openings, and Jason, his assistant, had often been present, offering an occasional biting bit of commentary, but no one else had ever touched her. Two men... The thought suspended itself, and her hand closed on the vibrator as a third moved up to straddle the head end of the existing three-body system and slid his cock into her mouth. God knew how they arranged that -- some kind of stepstool? -- but the woman's (probably faked) moans assumed a muffled quality as the man took her head in both hands and began driving for her throat. The vibrator came on without conscious attention -- Sharon first noticed it consciously as she slid it between her plump labia at the top of her slit, awakening a flashing pulse of pleasure in her already urgently itchy clitoris. Soon after that, the mechanical aspects of the operation slipped away as her consciousness became absorbed in the screen action. Sometime later, she came to herself to find that she was propped on one elbow, two fingers clamped over her left nipple while her right extracted that buzzing little beast from the soaking channel between her embarrassingly splayed legs. Humiliation overcame her almost instantly; her legs snapped together and she shut off the now offensive toy, quickly belting her robe and moving to destroy the evidence of her surprisingly enjoyable little romp by extracting the video and shutting off the player. Fastidiousness dictated that she take the vibrator to the bathroom with her to clean and that she shower, as much to wash away the guilt over committing the heinous act of masturbation as to clean up any secretions her pleasure had generated. Twenty minutes later, she was climbing back into her outfit, fresh, clean, and deep into the pretense that nothing unusual had happened, in plenty of time for everything to appear normal when Nora arrived home with her new boyfriend. The operative of Witherspoon Confidential Investigations, LLC, however, got an eyeful -- and a video camera full, too. He'd covered this particular 'subject' for several years now, and the events collected on this day were a complete surprise! It wasn't just the fact that the heretofore thoroughly repressed woman had engaged in a masturbation session -- which was unprecedented in itself -- the big surprise was the intensity of Sharon's response! The woman had had two obviously HUGE orgasms in the space of a couple of minutes; her apparent state had been one of completely uncontrolled bliss as she thrashed on the bed! Actually, the whole thing made sense, after a fashion; Sharon was a highly-sexed woman, whose early training had required her to deny herself. This had played into Armand's hands; he made her enjoy herself, but reinforced the guilt, shame and humiliation. So Sharon abstained from sex because she thought she was supposed to, but when events allowed her sexuality to slip the leash, it did so with a vengeance! ------- Chapter 2A: The Way Things REALLY Were... A prim, proper Sharon Wilson met her daughter, followed somewhat diffidently by the black boy, Nate, as she arrived home from school. She eyed the boy warily, but the fact was that there was nothing really awful about him -- he was tall, reasonably good looking, and seemed to have some vestigial manners. Nate returned the regard, wondering when Mama was going to say something, but said nothing -- Nate had determined that his ghetto- black arrogance and the 'rap' that went with it put him at a disadvantage where Nora was concerned, so he'd shelved it -- that meant playing it cool with Mama, rather than going on the offensive and accusing her of being a prejudiced bitch right off. Nora detected this standoff immediately -- but she also detected "live and let live" vibes from both of them, so she let it alone for the moment, other than rubbing Nate's hard back after she collected Cokes for the pair and waved him into a chair at the kitchen table. Nate absorbed the approval; sooner or later, he was gonna have to let Nora know who was boss in this relationship, but there wasn't any hurry... Nate Adams was a tall, thin, rangy product of the local 'projects'. His mother spent most of her time either high on drugs or looking for someone to sleep with to earn more; Nate was an accidental byproduct of that lifestyle, and although she loved him, he was 'old enough to take care of himself' -- not a priority in her life. Nate was high-strung; when he came into his own sexually at about thirteen, life had become nearly unbearable -- he needed pussy constantly, and had it not at all. This stress prompted him to play the bad-ass, dragging his friends 'Stick' Williams and Draper Travis into one hairy situation after another, some of which they didn't escape cleanly. In an effort to attract women, Nate had -- well, 'perfected' is not the right word -- employed a 'rap' -- a constant stream of oily talk designed to impress them and attract their attention. It did that, but not in a helpful way; Nate's attention tended to wander while his tongue was wagging, and something offensive would pop out -- as a result, women avoided him like the plague. He'd managed to secure a date for the Prom the previous Saturday based solely on the fact that the girl involved wanted desperately to go and had no other options -- then his 'rap' had gotten him slapped in the middle of the dance floor. Divine intervention, in the form of one Dina Nellis, a local female firebrand with a penchant for matchmaking, had brought him Nora -- and Nora was a dream come true! Nate was an ass man, and Nora had more than her share; it was soft and cushy and Nate could run his hands over it all day. And Nora was white, which was a dream come true for his suffering ego. But at about 2:30 on Sunday morning, Nora had taken him beyond such shallow measures by opening herself to him, and Nate learned what was REALLY important: Nora was pliant, and sweet, was tolerant of his flashy temper to the point of forcing him to control it, and saw enough potential in Nate despite his issues to offer him her virginity. There was no going back; Nate was totally hooked. So Mama was okay as long as she didn't provoke open warfare; since she didn't seem inclined to, Nate merely kept an eye on her. Besides, she wasn't the dangerous one; Nora's dad had made himself VERY visible as a threat on Sunday afternoon by sending a goon the size of a house to conduct a quiet conversation with him. The good news was that the conversation was relatively cordial; Nora's Papa COULD be a very powerful enemy, but for the moment he was not. And Nate had excellent reasons for keeping things on track that had nothing to do with any threat from her father... Sharon seated herself and after a quick glance at Nate asked, "So, how did it go?" Nora took a sip of her Coke and gathered her thoughts. "Umm, okay, I guess. I have a prescription for the Pill and some other things to tide us over..." She waved vaguely at the bag she'd brought in with her. Sharon and Nate both started a reach for the bag, but Nate checked himself. Sharon pawed through a collection of prophylactics and some foam dispensers to a sample case for some pills. While she read the label for the item, she pushed the bag back toward Nate, letting him know with an eye- flick that he was welcome to it. "What are these?" she asked. "Morning after pills, Mom. The doctor provided them, but didn't recommend them -- he said they're uncomfortable to take..." Nora flicked a glance at Nate, who absorbed this with a nod. Well, it was insurance, if something else didn't work... He resumed pawing at the rubbers, noticing that some large sized ones had been included. Nora eyed her mother for a moment, and added, "I think more interesting was the conversation with the doctor -- and the ones with Daddy's chauffer and Daddy." Sharon assumed a guarded expression and flicked a glance that it didn't take telepathy to decipher to 'Can't we keep this in the family?' Nora detected it and quashed it, responding with, "Mom, did you know that Daddy sent a man to visit Nate yesterday?" Sharon, quelled, directed a glance at Nate, who amplified, "Dude was the size of a house, an' he looked like it'd take a sledgehammer to get his attention. But he was cool, an' when Nora's ol' man showed up on the phone, he was, too. Still, I got the picture..." "Armand threatened you?" Sharon queried. "Nah. Not like that. He jus' let me know he could roll over me like a steamroller if I pissed him off. That dude he sent coulda bounced me like a basketball, but he was polite as pie." He directed a look at Nora. "Where I come from, trouble's easy to find, but jus' as simple to stay away from. Your ol' man don't want me to do nothin' I wasn't gonna do anyway, so I ain't worried. He whacks me, I figure I'll have earned it beforehand." It was time to get back on track, so... "What did the doc say?" Nora turned her eyes on her mother. "He told me that he examines a lot of women for my father. He told me that my father is kind of hard on women -- including Mom." Sharon dropped her eyes. "He also indicated that he can be hard on men -- but I guess Daddy has a staff for that. That's what the chauffer told me." "What's he do? Wear 'em out?" Nate was puzzled. "How?" "He's into S and M, apparently," Nora returned. "He can be pretty abusive." Nora's eyes returned to her mother. "But mostly it's about dominance and control. He likes to break people -- own them." "Shit." Nate added this to his situation assessment. "So if I piss him off, he might send a couple of guys around to break me open like a shotgun? I could end up somebody's bitch?" Sharon glanced up. "If he wanted to make it personal, you'd be HIS... bitch. I saw that, once..." She looked away, shuddered. "Jeezus..." Nate managed a bit of a pallor for a moment, greying a bit before visibly shaking the whole thing off. "Okay. So?" "So I left the doctor with a lot of questions," Nora resumed. "I asked the chauffer -- Jorge -- a couple, and he hedged -- until Daddy called him and told him to cooperate fully. I even talked to Daddy for a bit in the car." "This is big, I guess," Nate opined, "But I'm not sure why..." Nora again swung her eyes to her mother. "I figure that Daddy has decided that I am old enough to deal with 'full disclosure'," she hypothesized. "Until now, he's basically ignored me, and Mom's kept some things secret." Sharon cringed. "I guess he's decided I'm an adult." She mused for a moment, then: "So, Mom, how bad is it? Doctor Beckman says that if the perversion has a name, Daddy's probably tried it -- and that he's probably invented a couple." Sharon glanced at Nate, but Nora wasn't having any. "Nate's an interested party, Mom. Spill." "It's embarrassing," Sharon began, haltingly. "Your father and I weren't so much married as I was his sex slave. He fooled your grandparents into thinking he was a wonderful husband, but I was... property. And I was basically his sole toy. It was exhausting. By the time I was pregnant with you, I was at my wit's end." Sharon shuddered, remembering an incident when she, in the grip of morning sickness, was required to choke on Armand's cock. She vomited, and all he did was wait it out and redirect her to his cock. Then, when she'd finished the job, he'd merely arisen and walked out, leaving her to clean up the mess and wash the soiled bedding... "Then your great-uncle died, and Armand's sphere of influence expanded. He discovered he could have other toys, and that and the fact that I just couldn't keep up while pregnant led him to ease up on me and look elsewhere..." "So he found something better an' divorced you?" Nate guessed. Sharon frowned, her face a study in remembrance. "Well, he divorced me. I'm not so sure about the other thing, though. Nora didn't know it until recently, but I wasn't totally... let go. When Armand calls, I go to visit him -- and he always reminds me I'm still his." "What do you know about other women?" Nora asked. "What else is he into?" Sharon smiled ruefully. "I always go to his office. You'd think that would be a neutral place, but it isn't. Every time I go, he's got a woman stashed somewhere. Only a couple have lasted more than two visits." She wouldn't look at the others, but stumbled doggedly on, "When a woman is new, he usually rapes me in her presence -- something demeaning -- my throat, or..." Sharon wriggled in her chair; the others got the idea. "It's an object lesson to them." She looked up, oddly defiant. "When they're on their way out, he rapes THEM in front of ME!" She actually smiled. "I've seen -- dozens -- come and go, every size and shape and color..." "But YOU remain," Nora noted. "Mom, it's not QUITE rape, is it?" "Of COURSE it is!" Sharon argued vehemently. "I -- he -- it's..." "You don't fight much, do you?" Nora asked gently. "I CAN'T!" Sharon wailed. "He's too..." She waved her arms; adequate description failed her. "You go back..." Nora pressed. "I HAVE to!" Sharon whined. "He'd just come and get me! Besides, there was you to think about..." "Would he?" Nora countered. One look at her mother said there was no doubt in her mind. "You know, Mom, that says something about HIM..." "Erk?" This brought Sharon up short, momentarily, but she dismissed it; she'd been down this road of justifications a million times before, and it had deep ruts... On the other hand, Armand Wilson, watching the exchange live on hidden camera from his media room, blinked, and began thinking furiously. Once again, his daughter had provided a new insight... Unlike Sharon, who emotionally couldn't afford to, Armand processed this piece of data, and started drawing conclusions... In the distaff Wilson's kitchen, Nora pulled her mother out of her funk with a new announcement: "Daddy has invited me to dinner, at his house." "What? When?" Sharon, again brought up short, flailed a bit. All sorts of vague spectres flitted across her consciousness -- she'd never been to Armand's manse, but that didn't keep her from visualizing it as a den of iniquity. "Thursday." Nora watched her mother begin to nerve herself up for the episode, and quashed it. "Daddy asked me to come alone." Sharon's first flash of instinct was horror, but the whole thing settled back to unease relatively quickly. Armand's capacity for extreme behavior was a given, but Sharon instinctively decided that Nora was safe from direct participation in her father's darker pursuits. Logic would not have provided her that certainty, but she KNEW Armand; if he'd had a direct sexual interest in his daughter, it would have manifested itself before now. "Why?" "I think he wants to clear the air, and give me a chance to decide what I think of him," Nora replied. "Why alone?" Sharon asked the question, but Nate was all ears. "I think that Daddy feels that a trip to his house would be so distracting for you that we couldn't accomplish anything," Nora said carefully. "It's not the same issue of being lured into his den for me as it is for you. Who knows? After I come back and report that the place is just four walls, and the screams from the dungeon aren't too loud, maybe you'll be able to handle it better..." She grinned. Humor warred with worry in Sharon's expression. "He'll merely have gagged the poor wretches..." Nora cackled, then gathered herself in. "Really, Mom, is he that bad?" "I don't know. Maybe. Certainly, he deals out the abuse. There may well BE a dungeon there. On the other hand, most of his victims go there of their own accord..." Sharon was too pensive, but Nate caught Nora's expression; obviously, Sharon wasn't including herself in Armand's list of willing victims -- and Nora was beginning to suspect that she should be... "Well, Daddy says I'll be back before bedtime, so the dungeon tour is probably out," Nora commented lightly. "Obviously, you accepted his invitation, so I'll stay out of it," Sharon replied. "I don't know what he's up to, and that bothers me -- but I don't think you're in any serious danger from your father. Not that he ISN'T dangerous!" A warning look accompanied this. "If Armand has limits, I'm unaware of them. He was carnivorous before he obtained money and power, and it hasn't slowed him down any, that I can see. What he did with Nate is one of his more subtle manipulations. He can be a lot more direct. But he seems to have set a different level for his dealings with you..." Sharon's voice trailed off. God knew what the man was up to. If this was a trap, it was pretty subtle... "Time will tell," Nora murmured. Collecting the bag, she rose, "C'mon, Honey..." She took Nate's hand and began leading him out of the room. Nate eyed Sharon sidelong as he rose. "Homework!" Sharon admonished in a vain attempt to sidetrack the pair from Nora's intended activity. Nate watched her, waiting for a second sally, but Sharon merely threw up her hands. The couple reached the stair and Nate turned his attention to the hypnotic sway of the wide, sweet ass before him. ------- Nate stood in the center of Nora's room, surveying it while she closed the door behind them. It wasn't terribly frilly -- for which Nate was somewhat grateful; he didn't think Nora was the 'little princess' type, which he probably would have been unable to stomach. The place was still light-years above his digs, but then, almost anywhere was... Nora slid into his arms and they shared a short but deep kiss before Nate pulled back and murmured, "Maybe we oughta get the crap out of the way..." Nora's pout made HER priorities clear, but she conceded, "Okay, you go get the books and stuff, and I'll start up my computer." Nate nodded and nipped at her neck before turning to the door; the knowledge that they were going to have sex made having it in the next fifteen minutes less urgent -- not that he wasn't EXTREMELY ready... Nate boiled down the stairs and collected his and Nora's books from the car and returned, collecting an approving nod from Sharon as he hit the stair. Maybe Mama wasn't going to be a pain in the ass after all... They worked for ninety minutes, either seated before Nora's computer (which was a luxury to Nate, who had to use school machines or handwrite everything) or draped across Nora's bed, side by side, with books and papers scattered around them. Nate was continuously prey to the distraction of Nora's soft ass; once she discovered that Nate really considered it to be a drawing card, she began to enjoy the attention he imparted to it without embarrassment. Finally, after an hour and a half, Nora rolled up on one elbow and announced, "I'm done." Nate grinned. "So am I." "I kind of figured that when I started getting both hands..." Nora started tossing books on the floor only really showing proper regard for the homework sheets she had just finished. Nate took the hint and started stuffing his things back in his backpack. As he finished, Nora rolled over to him and offered an embrace, which Nate gingerly settled into... ... And quickly got lost in. Nora tended to be levelheaded during Nate's short dealings with her, gently controlling things with small comments backed by the huge carrot she dangled. But when the time came to deliver that carrot, suddenly she was a soft, squirming creature whose primary drive seemed to be an eagerness to please. The idea that he might be some super-stud didn't occur to him -- after all, he hadn't been actually HAVING sex any longer than she had -- but he found it totally amazing that once she got going, NORA would escalate things! It was Nora who somehow magically got him out of his shirt while they were kissing. It was Nora who likewise divested herself of her blouse and bra, and gently shifted his lips from hers to a distended nipple. And it was Nora who, crooning softly, wrapped warm fingers around his cock, rolling her thumb over the sensitive head. "God, I love the feel of that thing!" she moaned. "We'll have to do the rubber thing -- or I can suck it..." Nora offered. 'Huh! Like I'm gonna settle for a blowjob!' Nate thought to himself. Aloud, he remarked, "We got bigger rubbers..." That was all Nora needed to hear; she went scrabbling for the bag of goodies collected at the doctor's office. Collecting it, she rolled onto her back and Nate commenced his first aggressive move of the evening, going to work on the fastenings of her pants. The pair didn't stand on ceremony; Nate wrestled down Nora's pants and panties as one unit, exposing an already open and damp set of heavy inner lips below the sparse brown wisps decorating her pubic mound. As soon as she was free, Nora rose up and pushed Nate over to onto his back to do the same for him, but Nate altered the program a bit, "Swing around here so I can play with that ass, Baby!" Nora complied, and discovered that pushing his jeans upward to get them off his legs was a more difficult proposition than pulling them down -- but it didn't seem to matter as his hard hands began kneading the soft cheeks of her ass. In a moment, her arms at full extension managing only to get his jeans to mid-calf, Nora found herself with her nose buried in Nate's musky crotch -- and previous levels of excitement proved to be mere warm-up! Nora inhaled and moaned; a long finger slid between her nether lips and Nate's wondering voice announced, "Jeez, Baby, you jus' dripped on my chest!" Her upper body flat out atop him, Nora began laving Nate's hard ebony shaft with her tongue. Nate started kicking his way out of the constricting pool of fabric around his ankles. "Get that rubber! I'm gonna go nuts!" The uproar brought Nora back some and she rose up and snatched a rubber out of the bag and started fighting with the wrapper. Nate was swimming in a cloud of aroused female musk and the smell of wet pussy was driving him insane! Nora managed to roll the rubbery sheath down over Nate's diamond hard shaft -- an effort made easier by the prophylactic being a larger size, but still no picnic -- and not a moment too soon; with a roar, Nate grasped her by her generous hips and dumped her off him. Before she'd settled on her side, those same hard hands driven by wiry arms had her back up on her hands and knees and the rubbery tip of Nate's probe was nosing between her labia. At this point, things slowed down while Nate picked up some lubrication from Nora's damp tissues and squeezed himself through her tight opening; leftover K-Y jelly from Nora's vaginal exam earlier in the day actually lent an assist. Neither of them was complaining; Nora embraced the welcome fullness while Nate marveled at the wet heat of Nora's channel. The couple sighed in unison as the flanged head of Nate's cock passed the constriction of Nora's opening. Instinctively, Nate set up a pattern of short sawing strokes, each of which gained him additional depth until he was buried to the hilt, then he shifted to longer strokes, driving against Nora's soft ass with every stroke. The aroma of Nora's juices was maddening and he had no control, but it was irrelevant to Nora; the driving pattern set fire to her nerve endings from the tip of her stiffened clit to the depths of her vagina, lighting the fuse of a powerful orgasm. Downstairs, cooking dinner, Sharon became aware of a rapid pattern of muffled thumps and immediately guessed the cause: Nora's headboard was banging the wall in tune to their frantic lovemaking. She dried her hands and turned toward the stair in a not-too-well thought out attempt to control the situation, but the effort was wasted... Neither of the youthful participants in the lovemaking session had any control; the whole act lasted less than ninety seconds. Nora tensed up, raising her head, and erupted with a lung-constricted, "EeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEE!!! Uh! Uh! Uh!" as the waves of her orgasm washed over her. She clamped down on Nate's already over-stimulated cock setting the lean black off with a quiet "Hurrrgh!", but a loud final slam as he attempted to bury himself to the neck in Nora's pulsing channel. Sharon, halfway across the kitchen, faltered and stopped. She didn't hear Nate, but she DID hear Nora -- and the authority of that final thump told her all she needed to know about her timing. Shaking her head, she returned to the sink and resumed dinner preparations. Sharon really couldn't get a handle around her feelings at this evidence of her daughter's ongoing sexual activities; the negatives of the situation seemed to be offset by the surprising fact that Armand had blessed the union and the forbidden thrill of her partner's racial origins. Nate's race was a two- edged blade; Sharon knew that Nora would face a certain amount of ostracism, despite modern attitudes -- but she also knew that there would be a certain amount of envy among others -- even those enforcing the racism -- and that in some circles both their stocks would rise. Sharon was certain that in general Nate stood to gain, and probably Nora to lose, but perhaps Armand was right; best let the pair work the whole thing out on their own, without interference. At worst, it was a learning experience; at best, the pair would beat the odds and she'd have some beautiful grandchildren... That thought sneaked up on her, followed by 'Omigod! Grandchildren!' Humming to herself, she added a place setting at the table; the boy was pretty thin -- he needed to eat more... Upstairs, a gently panting Nate murmured a reverent, "Goddamn!" Pussy was even better than advertised; this time had been even better than night before last! He couldn't see how he could do without for any length of time, having had the stuff; too bad he hadn't done any better... "Sorry, Baby." "Mmmmm?" Nora was still awash in the aftermath, gently pulsing around Nate's still-rigid invader. "What for?" "Didn't last very long..." "Neither did I. It was wonderful..." Nora emitted a satisfied sigh. "Supposed to give ya more than one." "Nate, Honey, it's not a requirement. Believe me, one is as good for me as it is for you. More is just... gravy. Besides, some girls can't cum more than once..." "Huh! Really?" Nora engaged Nate's eyes over her shoulder. "I won't tell you who, but I know a couple. I don't know yet -- I've had sex twice, now, after all." She eyed him a moment, lazy satisfaction in her expression. "How many times have YOU had sex?" Nate opened his mouth -- and shut it. She knew; she was just fishing for the admission. "Counting this time?" "Uh huh." Nora's eyes laughed. Nate assumed an expression that said, 'I'm just telling you what you want to hear... ' "Twice." Nora clenched her vagina; Nate was still solidly erect. "Besides, you're not done yet..." Nate did a self-assessment. "Yeh, well, maybe -- but you don't use a rubber twice!" Especially after the object lesson of Saturday night; only the fact that it was ungodly tight had kept Nate's spend from leaking around the edges of the rubber they'd used to consummate their union. Nora sighed regretfully and said, "Bring it around here, Honey, and I'll clean it up..." Nate blinked. He didn't see anything that she could use, except... Nahhh... He backed out of her tight channel and got down off the bed, while Nora re-oriented herself crosswise on it, prone on her elbows, facing the edge. Diffidently, he presented his erection, and Damn! She did it! Gently, Nora removed the full prophylactic from his sensitive probe, (it was fuller, if possible, than the somewhat smaller item used Saturday night -- Nate had cum, big!), and began laving it with her tongue -- even gently sucking and swiping at the springy hairs at the root where the shaft met the scrotum. Then watching Nate with an impish look in her eye, she lifted the used prophylactic to her lips and... Jeezus! She was sucking the cum out of it! If Nate hadn't just cum less than five minutes before, he'd have shot all over the place! Nate's ship had come in, and Goddamn! It was the Queen Mary! Never in the heat of a jerk-off session had he EVER imagined anything so hot! When she dropped the emptied husk on the floor and ovalled her lips around Nate's throbbing shaft, his knees shook as he surrendered himself to her attentions. This wasn't necessarily just an act of generosity on Nora's part, though; Saturday night, Nora had discovered that she LOVED Nate's cock -- its unique feel, its musky scent, the taste... Maybe she loved ALL cock -- at present, though, all she could be certain of was that she loved Nate's. Handling it, smelling it, sucking it was a source of tremendous arousal. And she loved the taste of his cum, too! It tasted kind of weird, but her nipples crinkled as it slid along her tongue... The rubber hadn't done the stuff collected in it any good, but it was still nice -- and watching Nate's eyes get round like that? Priceless! She worked her mouth along the solid length for a few moments, but the fire it had lit would require direct attack to extinguish... "Nate, Honey," she purred, "Get another rubber..." Nate scrabbled for the bag and went fishing for another rubber, his poker face concealing absolute glee -- could it get any better than this? Holy Shit! Nora maintained her grip on his cock, slowly jacking it until he'd fished out a rubber and the bag went flying, then rolled over while rotating ninety degrees so that she was positioned on her back. "Gimme!" Nate handed her the rubber and, following her waved directions, moved to straddle her, settling gently over her narrow waist. Nora got the package open and raised her head to give the tip of Nate's member a quick swipe with her tongue before beginning the fitting process. Nate, momentarily at loose ends, took a coral-colored nipple in each hand and began working them between his fingers. "Ummmmmm." Nora's eyes drifted shut momentarily as she took in the sensations Nate's fingers were generating. Her vagina pulsated and she could feel the dampness of fresh lubrication. Finishing with the rubber she hissed, "Now, Honey! Fuck me!" Nate slid down and began to insert himself between widespread legs. No, this wasn't gonna work... Nora was splayed open, but her heavy thighs still limited his access. Kneeling up, he put his hands under her knees and lifted her legs up and out. Oh, yeah! He had a straight shot right down to the flat plane of her slit! Nate commenced to slowly work his rubber- encased length into Nora, using her lubrication to defeat her tightness and the rubber's resistance. "Oooooooooohhhhhh!" This was better than before! Saturday night had been wonderful, their doggy-style antics of a few minutes before even better -- but THIS was incredible! Nora could feel Nate's heavy rigidity deep in her channel, creating an itch in her depths that only his shaft could scratch. Nate, bottomed out, started pile-driving from his bolt-upright position, carrying Nora's thighs on his upper arms. Nora tried to help with the legs, but the sweet tension kept causing her to instinctively tighten up, trying to climb impossibly higher on Nate's impaling poker. Nora started a series of high whines, punctuated by loud heavy snorting breaths through her nose as her chest tightened to the tension Nate was winding in her. For the first time in his short sexual history, Nate was in control; between the rubber and the fact that he'd cum VERY recently, controlling the urge to shoot wasn't Nate's top priority. Oh, Nora's twat was a hot oil bath, all right, but he could enjoy it with a bit less urgency. The look on Nora's face said that if he kept his cool, he'd discover just how many cums she was capable of... Nate set a driving pace, just short of the point where he himself would get into trouble, and settled back to watch his partner. Nora was major entertainment. Less than a minute in, she was flushed and panting, eyes wild and unfocused as she groaned, "Oh, BABY! OH! OH! OH!" She set fingernails in both of Nate's biceps as she clutched herself against him and rode out her climax, slowing him momentarily. Downstairs, the resumption of rhythmic thumps had stopped Sharon in mid-motion. Good God! They were going at it again? She replaced the open box of pasta on the counter; it would get overdone if she started it now... She stood there, pondering what to do. In a moment, Nora let out a wail, and the thumps slowed... Sharon grinned despite herself at the speed with which they'd finished the act a SECOND time, and reached for the box -- but the rhythm picked up again! Rolling her eyes, Sharon put the box back down and turned down the burner a bit. They were in for the long haul, apparently... Watching Nora hit her peak had almost been Nate's undoing; her excitement had created a feedback loop, bringing Nate to the edge. The requirement to slow down for a few strokes while Nora hit the top of her cycle allowed Nate to get a grip, though, and he was able to resume at his previous pace when she relaxed. Nora's eyes danced as she rubbed his back, exclaiming, "Oh, Honey, that was GREAT!" Nate grinned and leaned down to capture and work a stiff nipple between his teeth and Nora started rocketing toward another climax. Nora, Nate reflected, had nice, chewy nipples on sweet, round titties; they were a helluva lot of fun... What Nate DIDN'T see was the way Nora's eyes widened when his lips engaged her stiff bud; his gentle gnawing generated current along what appeared to be a direct link to Nora's clitoris that hastened her second climax of the bout significantly! Nate's first notice came when Nora clutched his head to her breast and began surging powerfully, moaning, "NNNnnnNNNNnnnnnNNNNnnnnNNNNnnnn..." in time to his somewhat constricted strokes; her grip on his head had him hunching his back to maintain the pace. Waves of sparks flashed through her as she went rigid, undulated, and collapsed, allowing Nate to resume his full stroke. Nate rose up, grinning from ear to ear. "So, them titties are sensitive, huh?" he teased. "Unh huh," Nora agreed thickly. Nora was drained; she didn't see how she could rise to another orgasm. Nate, however, proceeded to show her. Having easily succeeded in bringing Nora off twice, the urgency of the search for his own release began to take the forefront of his attention. Accidentally, he discovered a new pattern of motion, one of alternating short and long strokes. This seemed to up the ante; the rubber no longer mattered under the impetus of the variety of sensations this activity generated, and Nate began to feel the deep tickle in the head of his cock that signaled a cum. "I'm gonna c- cum..." he groaned, picking up the pace. But Nora was right with him; the new pattern had been as effective on her as it was on him, and the excitement of sharing his approach generated a feedback loop. "Cum, Honey, cum!" she crooned, hips churning as she rose to her third peak of the session. "AaaaAAAAaaaaahhhhh!" Nate moaned, and let go, burying himself deep and straining against her as his cock bucked and pulsed, pouring his seed into the rubber in heavy gouts. The realization brought Nora to her third peak, one somewhat weakened by Nate's premature halt (she was two or three strokes from a big one), but a nice surge of pleasure, nonetheless. Sated, the pair collapsed into euphoric aftermath. Downstairs, Sharon waited a few seconds and then picked up the pasta box, now certain that the main event was complete. She'd been impressed despite herself at the evidence of Nora's second orgasm and was even more so by the end of the bout; whatever young Nate's issues might be, his proficiency as a lover didn't seem to be among them... While she stirred the pasta pot, Sharon unconsciously ground her pubic mound against the corner of the oven handle to ease the tension that had built up during her eavesdropping -- not masturbation, exactly -- more on the order of stubbing out a cigarette... Nate was wasted; he didn't work this hard at basketball practice! Then again, round ball didn't provide the same rewards... He was collapsed, boneless, across his softly panting lover when her mother yelled up the stairs, "Enough, already! Dinner in ten minutes!" The pair exchanged surprised glances; Nora murmured, "I didn't think we were THAT loud..." Nate struggled up and began retrieving his clothing. 'Hell, ' he mused, 'I shouldn't be grumpy -- what'd I expect, to live here?' Nora collected her outfit, and began sliding into it, too. The couple hit the bathroom -- first Nora, then Nate - and caught a quick kiss and clinch on the stair before emerging in the living room, Nate with his book bag over his shoulder. Sharon was standing in the kitchen door. "Nate, do you have dinner plans?" "Uh, no..." Nate was caught flat-footed. "Well, c'mon, then. You like spaghetti?" Sharon threw over her shoulder. "Yeh," Nate admitted, but that noncommittal response was nothing to his thought process! 'Goddamn! Mama's bein' nice! I'll be fu -- come to think of it, I was... ' Grinning, he settled in his previous seat, next to an equally surprised Nora, who was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sharon waited until things were well under way -- everyone served and settled -- to make her only reference to the younger generation's activities. Eying Nora sidelong, she announced, "Your headboard bangs the wall..." Nora inhaled Coke, then spewed it. Nate had serious problems breathing until he gave up and snorted laughter. Sharon feigned total indifference, spearing a forkful of pasta and chewing reflectively. But her funny bone was tickled. She didn't really approve of what the kids were doing, but SHE had been slave to Armand by Nora's age... Besides, Nora had been clear that while she could make the relationship difficult, Sharon couldn't stop her. And given Armand's apparent approval, it might amuse him to assist the pair, driving a wedge between herself and her daughter. No, it was best to fight the battles she could win; given what she'd overheard of the run-in upstairs, Nate was a more than capable lover -- clearly, sex would be a regular agenda item for the pair for the near future. Nora's grandparents would be shocked, but they were out of touch with the realities of existence in the Wilson family, anyway... The trio settled in to enjoy the best dinner Nate had eaten in some time... ------- Chapter 2B: The Way Things REALLY Were... Jason, Armand Wilson's majordomo, found his employer in his library, sipping brandy. "Witherspoon informs me that there has been significant sexual activity among the distaff," he intoned. "Young Mister Adams?" Armand guessed. Jason displayed his teeth in what passed for a smile. "Indeed. But before that, your ex-wife put on an impressive display of obedience to your directive to please herself with the toys." Armand chuckled, "Didn't she do that last night?" Jason nodded. "Yes, and of course we have decent infrared video. But today she apparently adjusted the curtains to ensure visibility from our observation post and then put on quite a show!" Armand laughed. "Sharon is a source of continual amusement! No doubt she wishes to be spared any gang-bang scenes -- although I KNOW that she would break down and enjoy it! If she only knew that we have the interior of the house covered in depth..." Another chuckle escaped him. "I assume that the raw catch is on the way?" "Yes, Sir." "I'll see it when it arrives." Armand waved dismissal, already thinking about what he would do for diversion while watching. Perhaps Felicia... "Oh, Jason," he murmured, prompting the majordomo to turn and face him, "Have you and Charles made up?" Jason showed his teeth. Over the weekend, Felicia -- now known as 'the Wench' -- had occasioned a certain loss of face for Jason, and Armand had enforced it by elevating Charles, the head groundskeeper, to Overseer of his as yet tiny stable of actual slaves. Jason was still unhappy with having to share his domain with the interloper, but he figured that Charles would fail to please Armand at some point in the near future and all would return to normal. In the meantime, Charles had made shift to heal the breach by allowing Jason to vent his irritation upon the hapless Wench, and he had spent several hours making her life truly miserable despite having Charles looking on as chaperone. He'd engendered abject fear in the young redhead, and for now, that would do. "Yes, Sir." "Good. Have the Wench deliver the take when it arrives." "Yes, Sir." Jason dipped his head and stalked out. Ninety minutes later, while Armand was going over production figures for the Midwestern states, the Wench arrived carrying a couple of DVDs and a few sheets of hardcopy. The statuesque redhead entered and knelt, nude, beside Armand's chair, presenting the documents. Until very recently, the Wench had gone by the name Felicia, and had been pursuing a promising career in modeling -- but about a month previously, she had drifted into Armand's orbit and become a toy. Armand had submitted her to a gentle course of the usual indignities, expecting more or less the usual rate of descent into depravity, but Felicia had surprised him by breaking almost immediately, becoming pliant to the point of overriding her instinct for self- preservation. Armand had subjected her to a whole catalog of tortures and humiliations, but Felicia merely absorbed the abuse and presented herself for more. Many masters would have been thrilled to death to obtain a slave of such pliancy, but Armand enjoyed observing the struggle, both physical and mental, of victims under his control. Felicia didn't struggle, either physically or mentally; she merely endured, and made shift to enjoy her mistreatment. Armand's first impulse had been to put her back on the street with his other ruined playthings, but it became clear that Felicia was altered to the point of being unable to operate properly in a 'normal' environment; she had needs and hungers the slaking of which would have no 'safe' venues in the outside world. So Armand had accepted her total submission and assigned Charles as overseer; she was the 'house slave', her station beneath even the young kids who maintained the grounds of Armand's estate. Her primary job function was to act as a vessel for the sexual energies of anyone Armand designated, whether it be himself, houseguests, servants... Charles' job was to see to it that she was sexed regularly, and that she considered no perversion unusual. The pair had only been in their new jobs for a couple of days; Jason didn't think Charles would measure up, but then Jason was unaware of the little incident that had brought Charles into Armand's uncle's and subsequently Armand's employ... Armand let her stew a bit; it was good for her to learn patience, he reasoned. From appearances, the effort was wasted; the wench knelt there as if she had all the time in the world to act as furniture for her Master. After a few minutes, though, her arms began to shake from holding them in a raised position for so long. Armand let this continue for another minute or so, then blandly collected the materials. After having read the hardcopy, Armand announced, "We're going to the media room," rose, and stalked out, the Wench following at two paces. Once in the media room, he handed the DVDs back to the Wench, directing, "Mount these in the DVD changer, this one first, and start it." The Wench executed her instructions and returned to kneel beside Armand's recliner, remote presented. Armand reflected that there WERE things to be said for perfect service... The next twenty minutes were occupied by Armand's perusal of his ex-wife's VERY visible interlude with the vibrator. Yes, she knew him; her intent was clear: it was a show of obedience to stave off his threat of escalation. Armand was somewhat surprised that she allowed herself enjoyment of the exercise -- but then control, ultimately, was not one of Sharon's strong points. More amusing than watching her responses while in the throes of orgasm (he was as familiar with Sharon's response pattern as Witherspoon's operative was not) was her fastidious recovery; it was an exercise in denial of the type that never ceased to bring forth a chuckle. "Switch DVDs," he directed, and the Wench did so, after some fumbling with the remote. Armand settled back to watch the antics of his daughter and her rangy black lover. After a bit, he stood, and ordered, "Have someone bring my robe and pajamas." The Wench punched the intercom button on a nearby console. "My Master wishes to have his pajamas and robe brought to the Media Room." A waspish male voice issued from the speaker, "So why don't you go get them, Slut?" The Wench glanced up at Armand, who frowned and shook his head. The Wench spent a moment visibly composing her response before replying, "That is not my Master's intent." "Oh," came the short response. "Very well." There was a bit more before the intercom cut off, the word 'lazy' being the only one clearly discernable. "That was Raoul, wasn't it?" Armand asked mildly. "I believe so, Master," Wench answered carefully. She knew that tone. Armand pointed at the receiver for the house phone and snapped his fingers; Wench leaped to retrieve it. "Jason, we have a disciplinary problem," Armand announced. "Sir." There was a click -- Jason was on his way. In a moment, Consuela arrived with Armand's clothing. The Wench collected it while Armand queried, "Raoul sent you?" A nod. "Get him." Consuela got out of there. Armand signed for the video to be put on hold while this other matter was dealt with; the Wench handled it, juggling clothing and the remote. Jason arrived next, followed quickly by Raoul, for whom one look at the occupants of the room signaled trouble. "Raoul," Armand murmured, "You are correct that the Wench occupies a position of low estate in this house. However, if she is responding to my directions, she represents ME, does she not?" "Uhhh, yes, Sir, sorry, Sir," Raoul placated nervously, his eyes flicking back and forth between Armand and Jason. "The Wench was very clear in relating her instructions, and again very clear in transmitting the fact that it was my will that she remain here," Armand continued inexorably, "yet you insisted upon assuming that she was merely being lazy. Why?" "I, uh," Raoul really had no answer; he'd been watching television, and had reacted more or less instinctively at the interruption. "I, uh was being less than attentive, Sir." Armand's eyes flicked to Jason. "See to it that Charles is informed that Raoul is to have no use of the Wench, either sexually or as a menial." Raoul blanched a bit; this lowered him somewhat in the staff pecking order. "How old is your daughter?" Armand continued, "Fourteen?" Raoul knew fear; his whole family was quartered below stairs. This was the first time he'd realized that this was a bad thing, that they were hostages to his good behavior. "It's time she learned a bit about reality," Armand announced. "For the next week, she will see to the Wench's needs; feed her, clean her kennel, and such. Yes, that's an idea." He flicked a glance at Jason, who nodded. It would be done. Raoul's family knew their place; his wife, in fact, had been well able to read the writing on the wall without troubling Raoul with any announcement of the fact. In fact, she'd offered physical acknowledgement of Jason's power over her household on a number of occasions... Jason stood there, reflecting that next time he fucked her, maybe he would allow Raoul to detect the fact... He showed his teeth in his characteristic blank grin and Raoul wondered what ELSE he would heap upon the Master's punishment. Armand wasn't quite through yet, though. "She'll have to be available twenty-four by seven, of course," he mused. Raoul swallowed, but gathered his courage. "She's in school, Sir..." Armand dealt with this equably. "Quite right, mustn't interrupt THAT. When she's not in school, then. Day and night; school is her only excuse. Do you understand?" "Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir." Raoul hung his head and Armand waved dismissal. Before Raoul hit the door, though, Armand added, "She starts tomorrow at, say, six a.m.?" He glanced at the Wench, who nodded. "She can check to see that the Wench hasn't fouled her cage." Raoul nodded acquiescence and got out of there before things got any worse. Jason dipped his head and followed Raoul out; Armand knew from experience that Jason would add icing to the cake in some manner. Turning to the Wench, Armand announced, "You may undress me." He didn't do this often; it had been a spur of the moment thing brought on by mild arousal -- and, frankly, Raoul had ruined it. But the Wench had his change of clothing, so it was politic to follow through... The Wench stepped up and began sliding him out of his jacket. She didn't realize it, but she was smiling; this was a good thing -- it might lead to sex, and maybe even a chance to sleep in a bed (her kennel was a hard, unpleasant place, made so deliberately as an incentive to provide good service). Armand looked on, amused, as the Wench divested him of several layers of clothing and installed him in his pajamas and robe, helping her only minimally. The Wench's obvious happiness at such menial activity brought a return to joviality; Armand settled in his chair and ordered, "Send for refreshments -- iced tea and some fruit, I think. And restart the DVD." The Wench leaped to obey. This time, there were no screw-ups; Consuela found the Wench kneeling between Armand's legs having her breasts fondled absently while the pair watched some interracial content on TV when she delivered the drinks ten minutes later. That 'interracial content' was Nora and Nate making like bunnies, of course. Armand watched the proceedings with a curious mix of detachment and arousal; he had no sexual interest in Nora, but fucking WAS fucking, and the pair was doing a fine job. Armand grasped the Wench's chin, turning her head, and she got the hint immediately, reorienting and engulfing his member. The Wench might not fulfill his urge for strife, but she had the mechanics down pat. And she appeared to enjoy her work, going deep every few strokes without prompting. Armand let her deal with it on her own, and returned his attention to the video. Yes, obviously Nora had her mother's wild response pattern -- but without her hang-ups, apparently. Armand had sometimes wondered if Sharon came so hard BECAUSE she was otherwise so rigidly controlled, or it was purely her natural state; the jury was still out, but Nora was definitely a slut, once aroused. On the other hand, the Adams boy had a decent-sized erection and the will to use it -- and he WASN'T treating Nora like a tramp. No, Armand's genes were apparent here -- Nora had the black boy wrapped around her little finger, and controlled him virtually without thought -- smoothly, too; the boy seldom realized he was being manipulated. That he was smitten was obvious; time would tell whether it was love or merely the miraculous fulfillment of his every sexual need. Armand began to feel some urgency, which was surprising -- he didn't expect to get much out of a blowjob given by a woman who obviously wasn't feeling anything much in the way of humiliation. Perhaps he should have choke-fucked Raoul for his temerity... The thought added to Armand's arousal, but he dismissed it -- it would have left Jason with fewer options when HE heaped his own punishment atop Armand's. Besides, Jason liked doing men a lot more than Armand did... Things got really good, and Armand sat up to take a hand, capturing the back of the Wench's head and driving her to repeated deep strokes. The orgasm arrived, and Armand spiked the hapless redhead, pouring spunk down her choking throat and taking additional pleasure from its spastic movements. Immediately after her release, the Wench vomited, spewing on the floor. She looked up, sniffling, "I'm sorry, Master! I tried to hold it down..." The woman never ceased to amaze Armand; the expected reaction would have been something on the order of "Why did you do that? See what you made me do?" Of course, Armand would have punished THAT severely... After a moment's thought, Armand returned, "Practice makes perfect. Throw a towel over it; your new assistant can clean it up in the morning. Tell Charles I said to have the yard boys use your throat until you develop control." "Yes, Master." The Wench rose to collect a towel from an adjoining bathroom, and Armand added, "Hurry back and kneel up; I want to soak a while." The Wench left the room at a dead run, and was back in no time, covering the slimy mix of saliva and semen (which didn't smell much, thank God), and kneeling up to accept Armand's still solid member, doggy-style. For the moment, Armand merely made insertion and soaked his cock in the hot oil bath that was Wench's pussy; time for more, later, if he felt like it. Wench tried to up the ante by rhythmically clenching her vagina -- anything to make Master happy. She'd fully expected to have to clean her vomit from the floor with her tongue. Wench's efforts had their effect; toward the end of the younger generation's second bout, Armand began moving his hips. Depletion from the throat fuck kept him from attaining orgasm during the playback, despite the primal energy of the content; Armand had just killed the playback and was beginning to concentrate on getting some pleasure out of the Wench when the intercom came alive. Jason's voice announced, "Sir, Witherspoon's people say that Sharon is preparing to again amuse herself. They recommend the live feed from her bedroom..." Wench picked up the remote from where Armand had tossed it on the floor and handed it to him over her shoulder. While she wouldn't have his full attention, even money said she would collect his seed -- something she'd been worried he would not allow. Armand muttered "Thank you, Jason," rubbed Wench's back in a silent extension of the same sentiment to her, and tuned the monitor. ------- Sharon had retired for the evening soon after Nate had bounced out of there; Nora hadn't complained because she, too, had reason to seek quiet relaxation (while thoroughly enjoyable, sex was hard work, and she was feeling the effects of using muscles never used before). Sharon was jangled -- the kid's antics, even merely overheard, had her imagination going and her juices flowing. She pretended to herself that this was not the case, however; her efforts at self-justification centered around the idea that perhaps Armand's surveillance team had been unable to obtain good footage during the daytime. If she did this thing at night with some lights on, it should be better... She slid into a short nightie and fussed with the curtain, again deliberately leaving an opening. Sharon then fished the large vibrator out of what she had come to think of disparagingly as the 'toy box' and started rummaging through the DVDs. She perused each of the commercially made videos, but the underlying thought process at work made her pass them by and select one of the pair of DVDs at the back -- the ones Armand had had made. Viewing visible evidence of her humiliation might not be stimulating, but should at least be educational... Sharon popped the DVD in the player and a professional-looking menu appeared, displaying dates and strange codes: 'O's and 'A's predominated, but there were a couple of 'V's and 'W's. There was no legend; Sharon figured that if she looked at a few scenes, she would puzzle it out. She selected a date early in the year, and the scene opened... She remembered it immediately; they had discussed the interest of a local city councilman in securing ongoing support for a youth program and its possible benefits when hearings on the variance required for some plant upgrades Armand was pursuing came up. Then, as usual, conversation veered away from business... ------- "Those are nice hose," Armand commented. "They aren't pantyhose, are they?" "No," Sharon replied shortly, thinking, 'Here we go... ' "Show me." "Armand," Sharon huffed, "We're NOT married any more! You can't go lording it over me like this! It's not right!" Armand merely eyed her through this outburst. "Now!" he ordered, flatly. Habit and training took over; Sharon found herself on her feet, with her skirt pulled above her waist. In an attempt at recovery, she hissed, "There! See?" Armand got up and came around his big mahogany desk, eyeing the exposed garter belt and panties. "Red, huh? They go well with the black garter belt, but not the skirt." Armand's hand flashed out and one leg of her panties shredded. Sharon shrieked, "Armand!" indignantly, but it did no good; while she was reaching for the torn spot, Armand shredded the other leg, and they fluttered to the floor. "Take off the skirt," Armand directed. Sharon shook her head in negation, but Armand wasn't having any. "It will be worthless to you in the future if you don't," he warned, while he caught a forearm in one hand and menaced her waistband with the other. Sharon forestalled him, her hands flying to the button and zipper at her back. "Armand, you shouldn't be doing this. It's not right -- not decent." But the skirt pooled itself on the floor. ------- Sharon sat before the TV, watching the incident, remembering. It was every bit as humiliating and degrading as she remembered, but those memories were shifting a bit from their well-worn track. A vague disquiet made itself know within her. On the screen, events continued... ------- Armand caught her right arm while it was still behind her, and occupied his left hand by firmly collecting her left breast in a hold she KNEW could become viciously painful -- he applied just a bit of pressure to remind her of the fact as he drove her before him toward his desk with his hip. "It suits my purposes," was his bland reply to her accusations. The hammerlock and breast grip were more than sufficient to maneuver her around behind his desk and to drape her over it. "Don't move," he admonished, punctuating the order with a vicious squeeze of her breast that left her breathless. Armand's desk had a couple of items of optional equipment that weren't visible to the casual eye of someone seated before it, to wit: a pair of ankle restraints, attached to the drawer pedestals. Swiftly, he knelt and secured her ankles in the quick-closing Velcro wraps. ------- Watching, Sharon mused to herself that if she'd been able to shake off the pain, she might have disabled Armand with a swift kick at this point. But short of killing him under circumstances that made it clear that her life was in danger, crossing Armand only caused him to escalate things; if he decided that it was necessary to get even for some slight, and his imagination kicked in... Sharon shuddered. Dark things moved in the back of her imagination when she envisioned the possible consequences of, say, kicking Armand in the testicles... And those dark things would move in the forefront of Armand's imagination... ------- On screen, Armand ordered, "Take off the top and the brassiere -- I want you nude." "No!" Sharon protested. Armand removed a ruler from a desk drawer beside her and whacked her soundly on the ass. "You're in no position to argue," he retorted, blandly. "Ow! Ouch! Ow!" Sharon took two more swats, spaced a second or so apart, to re-think her position and whip her blouse over her head, then reach back to unclasp her bra. Armand waited until she was working at the clasp, then deliberately jangled her with another swat. "Hurry up!" "Y-yes, Armand!" Sharon piped, struggling with the clasp. Finally, the hooks popped loose, and her breasts spilled out as the straps dropped off her shoulders. "Good," Armand approved. He didn't just stand by during this exercise, however. Reaching into the drawer, he extracted a bottle of lubricant and drizzled it down the crack of her ass, causing Sharon to jump at the cool sensation between her burning ass cheeks. Picking up a bit of lubricant, he roughly worked two fingers between her labia, sliding them up and down to apply the lubricant, then sliding them into her vagina to use as an anchor for the thumb he began driving into her protesting anus. Lubrication battered down her defenses, and Armand applied more, left- handed, as the thick digit sank to the first knuckle. ------- Sharon remembered this; it had hurt like Hell... But things were starting to morph a bit; memory patterns were shifting... ------- On screen, Sharon whined and arched her back as Armand pushed the thumb in and out, pulling the fingers out and rubbing the wet groove between her inner lips so he could get more depth for the offending digit. "Oooooh..." It WAS a whine, but was there another component there? Armand's fingers began to whirl over her clitoris, and Sharon moaned, "Ohhh, God..." She dropped on her elbows and raised her ass... ------- Watching these antics on-screen, Sharon went white as a sheet! It looked like she was enjoying it! Sharon remembered this episode as a brutal anal rape -- or did she? Oh, God! A veil lifted in her mind, and her sensations matching the on-screen activity began to flow through her consciousness... ------- It WAS a brutal anal rape -- in that much, Sharon's memories had not deceived her. Armand gave her about thirty seconds' worth of clitoral manipulation while she moaned and gasped in pleasure, then stopped to step out of his trousers and drape them nonchalantly over a nearby wooden valet. Sharon surged and whined and reached between her legs... Whack! "Ah ah!" Armand admonished. "I didn't tell you that you could play with yourself!" He came around the front of the desk and grabbed a handful of Sharon's hair, pulling her head toward his crotch. Sharon's mouth was open and her tongue was out, questing, before it came into contact with his glans. Armand used her, holding her head by the hair and playing with a nipple with his other hand while driving himself deep, choking her and incidentally coating his cock with her spit, then he withdrew and returned to a position behind her. Spit wasn't required for vaginal penetration; Armand attempted to be brutal about the insertion but failed, solely due to Sharon's wet readiness. The penetration had only been Phase Two, anyway, though; after a couple of strokes, Armand withdrew and repositioned to Sharon's anus. This time, brutality WAS possible, but Sharon apparently welcomed it. Sharon watched herself in horror as she braced herself against the desk, moaning about the pain while obviously working to assist the insertion. And the look on her face... Sharon covered her face in shame, but peeped between her fingers, mesmerized by the revelations on-screen. Armand got himself fully organized and began pounding Sharon's ass in a steady rhythm. Sharon continued to moan, but the quality of the sound was different; Sharon's masochistic pleasure was there on her face for all to see, and, given the visible cue, the matching memories were there, too. She'd enjoyed it! Oh, God! She'd enjoyed it! Always before, Sharon had remembered the pain, the humiliation -- but the worst of it had been 'put away', bottled up, hidden, an avoidance that let her live with Armand's brutal practices. Now, however, with the evidence before her eyes, she realized that what she'd been hiding from herself was not the worst horrors of the acts that he forced upon her, but the shameful pleasure she took from his abusive treatment! Now the memories rushed in, and Sharon recognized the glazed look on her on-screen face as that of a woman chasing an orgasm! Armand drove his thick cock into her rectum again and again, going deep and delivering an occasional swat to Sharon's ass to keep her clenched and focused. Sharon became red-faced, hunkered down on her forearms and began actively driving herself back onto his probing member, her agitation rapidly increasing moment by moment. Armand, who had obviously been awaiting a particular moment, picked up his telephone and directed, "Send Therese in." In a moment, the door opened to admit a leggy blonde with suspiciously large breasts and a look of open-mouthed surprise. Armand collected her attention with, "Ah, Therese. Come in, have a seat; I'll be done here, shortly." He paused a moment, and then in a tone that only slightly reflected the effort he was expending in pounding Sharon's abused rectum, announced, "This is my ex-wife. I know any number of men who would be envious of my ability to visit this particular activity upon her, but to me it is only another indication of my basic nature." His eyes bored into Therese's. "Once I have something, letting go of it is something done at MY discretion, not someone else's. Isn't that right, Dear?" He punctuated the question with a loud swat to Sharon's right ass cheek. Sharon's memory had held this to be a moment of supreme humiliation ------- not an uncommon occurrence, but a peak, in any case. The video revealed another peak; Sharon's eyes rolled up and her eyelids fluttered, she emitted an impassioned, "Uuuuuuuuhhhhhh!!!!", and clear fluid poured down her thighs as her vagina pulsed in a thunderous orgasm. Armand enforced the sensations by doubling the impact power of the next four shattering thrusts, then pouring several bursts of semen into her spasming colon. Sitting there, Sharon remembered everything clearly -- even the feel of Armand's cock surging and pulsing in her anus. She remembered the shame, the humiliation, and the intense masochistic joy as the pleasure and pain mixed to bring her to a mind-numbing peak. She remembered that Therese had backed out of the room, shocked -- which was Armand's intention, no doubt -- but that she'd been there ten days later, sucking Armand's cock, nude, her hands tied behind her and Armand controlling her efforts by pulling a chain suspended between clips mounted on her nipples. Therese hadn't lasted to visit number three. For ten minutes, Sharon sat there, blindly staring at the chapter menu of the DVD that appeared when the clip was complete, in an agony of remembrance. Oh, God! Would each of these scenes be similar? Would ALL of them depict not only the pain and humiliation she remembered, but the fact that she'd ENJOYED it? She knew the answer instinctively, but the implications refused to resolve themselves. What did it all mean? What was the big picture? Did this change anything as far as Armand was concerned -- provide a justification for his atrocities, and for her endurance of them? Sharon shook her head to clear it. All she knew for certain was a single, highly-embarrassing fact... Resolutely, she reached for the vibrator and applied it to her vaginal lips in an effort to ease the unbearable itch that her daughter's antics had started and the video had amplified. For ten minutes, she worked the hard, buzzing phallus, sliding it along her labia to rattle the nerves of her clitoris, then sliding it in and out of her channel, slowly losing her deliberation and control until the orgasm lurking there came rushing out to overcome her. When it was over, she collapsed across the bed, chest heaving. Was it enough? Nooooo... Sighing, she picked up the remote for the DVD player and restarted the scene she'd just watched, this time with the vibrator to augment her memories. And Armand, slowly sawing his cock in and out of the Wench's distended ass, chuckled again and again... ------- Chapter 3: Life Below Stairs Inez Hernandez was furious! Her fool of a husband, Raoul, had angered Mister Armand, so now her beautiful Bianca was going to have to chase around after the red haired puta for a week! That the child would be exposed to multiple sex acts was a given; after all, it was the puta's job! Inez didn't fault the puta for this -- Mister Armand had brought out the whore in her and was merely putting it to good use. Some people just had roles in life... But Bianca was a beauty, and parading her in front of Mister Armand and Mister Jason was an invitation to disaster. And Inez would have to school Bianca, or the girl would do or say something stupid and make matters worse... Damn Raoul! Raoul's stock had been falling with his wife for some time, but this was a new low. When they'd met while still in school back home, he'd been dashing and fiery and impassioned; only after they had been married did Inez realize that Raoul's 'passion' was bad temper, and he had large quantities of foolish pride and stupidity to go with it. But by then, they had Bianca, and besides, Inez was a good Catholic woman... Still, Raoul's evil temper got him out of jobs as quickly as his smooth charm got him into them. Things got worse and worse as the employment situation weakened at home, until finally Raoul just couldn't find anything at all. But Inez had come upon an idea, and one fine day they'd crossed the border to the States on a day trip and had never looked back... That little plan ushered in a new era of prosperity for Raoul's family -- until the bar fight. Despite the loss, Raoul had given better than he got, and some white guy (Inez worked hard at her Americanisms, so the simpler 'gringo' was banished to the back of her mind... ) had been cut, bad, and the policia started sniffing around... Raoul was between jobs (again!) and they were living on Inez' pin money, which wasn't enough to run on. Inez was waiting for the INS to come and tell her that Raoul was in prison and she and Bianca were on their way back home when Raoul came home with Mister Armand and Mister Jason in tow. The deal, whatever it was exactly, had been done before Raoul came home, but for once Raoul had done something right. The trio moved into the relatively palatial servant's quarters of Mister Armand's mansion and Raoul went to work, ostensibly as a downstairs butler -- but Mister Armand had strange tastes and sometimes even stranger duties for her husband... Still, Mister Armand's methods were familiar and almost comforting to Inez; he bound Raoul to him with the threat of the deportation of his entire family and a possible stay in prison for Raoul. That was the stick. But the carrot was a place to work, a nice place to live, and a little money to blow periodically on a vacation home. Mister Armand had gotten them all counterfeit green cards, (Armand would have laughed at that -- the cards were real, in order to protect himself from nosy Feds, but having Raoul think they were counterfeit was useful... ), so Inez could walk the streets here with her head held high. Similarly, Inez had no issues with Armand's methods in general; he was a man of power, and he did the things men of power did -- that was all. If anything, Armand was a bit subtler, more refined, less brutal than say, the local mayor in her hometown. In Inez's experience, the law was a fiction; men of power were a law unto themselves. Mister Armand was like that, and Mister Jason did what other men of power's chief lieutenants did -- he cloaked himself in his master's power and saw to it that things happened in accordance with his master's will, while enjoying what benefits his position allowed. That Raoul might periodically do something at Mister Armand's behest that some considered 'illegal' was of little concern to Inez -- it was more important that Mister Armand be pleased than Raoul concern himself with someone else's arcane concept of right and wrong. This was the way of the world, in Inez's view; as long as she did not present an obstacle to Mister Armand or Mister Jason, life would continue to be good. Still, Raoul managed to fuck up regularly, keeping himself from being promoted and regularly landing himself in the doghouse with Mister Armand -- and, more important -- Mister Jason! For Mister Jason was Boss, second only to Mister Armand, and was Raoul's direct supervisor, in any case. Besides, if something needed doing whose legality was somewhat... questionable... Mister Jason would generally be there to direct and supervise (something Inez was thankful for -- that idiot Raoul would get himself jailed over some stupidity, for sure, without somebody keeping an eye on him!) One day, Raoul's usefulness to Mister Armand would be at an end; on that day, Inez vowed, Raoul's usefulness to Inez and Bianca would ALSO be at an end. Recently, Inez had decided that, good Catholic woman she was, five years as an Americano had taught her that some things were not to be borne -- she would throw herself on the limited mercy of Mister Jason and Mister Armand and wangle herself an official job as a cook and maid, and shut herself of Raoul. She'd been doing little things for years, helping Cook out and filling in when there were parties; Mister Armand loved Mexican food, and Inez was a good cook who did things the old-fashioned way -- he knew who ground the masa and made the fresh flour tortillas he enjoyed so much... Inez was happy to do it, too -- it staved off boredom and provided a little pin money. Raoul's idiocy had begun to rankle more and more as time went on; recently, it had become almost insufferable. Why? Because Raoul wasn't the only one who paid for his mistakes... It had all started several years before, only about six months after they had come to Mister Armand's house. One day, Mister Jason had appeared at the open door of their little rooms and announced, "That husband of yours is... irritating." That doesn't sound so bad, but Inez had been instantly alarmed. Mister Jason carried with him an aura of dangerous, poorly contained power everywhere he went. When she locked eyes with Mister Jason, that aura was palpable. Inez was no longer the softly rounded beauty she'd been at fifteen; time and pregnancy had thickened her waist and padded her ass, while sliding her fat tits down her chest a bit. Given the procession of beauty queens that Mister Armand had flowing through the house, she'd never considered herself to be in any danger of attracting anyone's attention. She was wrong. And she learned it that afternoon. Mister Jason had stood there, with that look on his face. A person who had not been exposed to him much might have thought that he was calm, but Inez saw the dark fury in his eyes. Inez put down her sewing. "What has Raoul done?" Gradually, it came out. Raoul had exceeded his authority in dealing with a tradesman -- one who was in Jason's pocket. The nature of the offense shielded him from Jason's ire -- he couldn't justify it with Armand, so he couldn't punish Raoul directly -- but someone MUST be punished; it was an essential part of Jason's makeup. And no one would be safe until Jason's anger was slaked -- even Inez knew this. Jason's quiet rant ended with the words, "I am about ready to put him on the street and call the INS." Inez knew a threat when she heard one. Jason had carefully avoided adding "You and your daughter, too!" Inez knew that there would be a reason for that... Carefully, she engaged his eyes and asked, "What can I do to help?" Jason was off. "You can control the fool, that's what! I hold YOU responsible for pounding sense into his stubborn, stupid head, and when you fail, YOU will take the heat right along with him! Do you understand?" His eyes grew even more dangerous. "Come here!" Inez didn't bother to get to her feet; she went straight to her knees in front of the chair and walked on them to within his reach. She knew what was coming -- Mister Jason's ego, his masculinity, had been injured; he would avenge himself upon Raoul in as personal a manner as he could manage. Inez was a practical woman; she'd seen the mayor of her village stand by watching and making comments while an adversary's wife was gang raped at his order. She was now hostage to Raoul's behavior, and Mister Jason wouldn't be happy until he had delivered a lesson... Jason's eyes lit. The bitch KNEW what was coming! Roughly, he grasped a handful of her thick, black hair and tilted her head up. "Do you suck cock?" he asked, then continued without awaiting an answer, "You do now! Get it out!" Reaching behind him, he locked the door and flicked it shut, one-handed. Raoul had a key, but so what? He'd kill the greasy little sonofabitch and tell Armand he'd attacked him with that toad-sticker of his... While Inez fumbled with his belt and zipper, Jason shoved his other hand into her peasant blouse, collecting a soft, fat mound capped by a thick, brown nipple. He squeezed the nipple between his fingers a bit and it firmed, noticeably. Intrigued, Jason hauled at the neckline of the blouse to get a look at his find. Inez, looking up, caught his eyes and the quick inhale that went with the flash there. Jason was pretty taciturn, and hard to read, so perhaps no one else in the world knew what she discovered in that moment; Jason was a tit man! Big, natural tits -- not little pointy model mounds, and not unnaturally protruding silicone-filled bags -- no, Jason had an eye for big fat, soft, round, cushy jugs that rolled around a bit and were capped with a sizeable nipple that he could tweak and tease and pull and nip... Inez let go of Mister Jason's belt, undid the tie at her cleavage and crossed her arms, snatching at the cap sleeves of the peasant blouse and tugging. When her hands returned to his fly, the blouse was a pool around her waist, her whole torso forced through the neckline. The hand buried in Inez's hair shifted away to collect another fat globe. "You little bitch," he breathed in awe, while touch and sight relayed impressions of her areolas crinkling, thickening and elongating the nipples until they were the size of his pinky fingers to the first joint. "Hurry up, I want to feel your mouth on my cock!" he hissed. Inez finished with the belt, snap, and zipper, and Jason's slacks pooled around his ankles. Inez began to get alarmed; the cock tenting Mister Jason's boxers looked bigger than Raoul's... She worked the waistband over the taut erection and gasped. It was HUGE! Inez had some experience at desultory cocksucking, but it wasn't big with Raoul, so she'd never had any reason to get excited over it. THIS, however, was going to be a challenge... Raoul had a reasonably decent 5 inch cock that tapered from a wide, thick base to a relatively narrow tip; Mister Jason appeared to be half again as long, much more cylindrical, and capped by a slightly fatter mushroom head. All in all, it was nearly twice anything that Inez had experienced! And Mister Jason wouldn't accept half-measures... She lowered her lips over the velvety head, nearly twice the size of Raoul's and the thought flickered through her head that this was a bit more satisfying than the narrow tip that her husband presented... She'd SEEN cocks like this before -- at that memorable rape scene, for instance -- but never touched, and certainly never tasted, one! Jason moved her on past discovery and into challenge, returning a hand to her hair and pulling her onto him. Inez knew alarm, immediately. Deep throat, with Raoul, wasn't an issue; she could accommodate his length in her mouth. Mister Jason was a different matter, altogether; she began to gag, and there were a couple of inches out there, beyond her lips! Instinctively, she backed off, and Jason let her, only to drive her forward again an instant later. They settled into a pattern: Impale, gag, retreat, impale, gag... It went on and on and on, until suddenly Inez realized that she wasn't always gagging; instead, Jason's mushroom cock head was passing through the abused opening at the top of her throat -- not always, but about every other stroke. She was awash in her own spit, generated by her multiple attempts to retch; it poured down her neck and chest, and coated Mister Jason's pubes, wetting him to the balls. Inez looked up to see Mister Jason's face slowly reddening, his nostrils widening. Suddenly, all she could see was his pubes; he pinned her head to him, while his cock swelled and pulsed, pouring his seed down Inez's spasming throat, throwing his head back in ecstasy and hissing "Yessssss!!!" Inez hung there, pinned, for centuries. Little sparks flashed before her eyes, against a dimming background as consciousness waned. Mister Jason let go of her and she dropped back, collapsing onto her back, semi- conscious. Jason threw himself prone atop her; she came slowly back to herself to the feel of his hard hands mauling her nipples. "I ought to fuck you, too. It would serve the little bastard right if I got kids on you. You'd better give some thought to birth control; next time he pisses me off I'm going to feel your cunt -- and maybe your ass!" Inez said nothing, and didn't move; she was still trying to recover from the languor that lack of oxygen had imposed upon her. But if Mister Jason had gone looking for pussy, he'd have found hers wet and receptive. Instead, he slapped her -- not terribly hard, merely to make a point -- and announced, "Get control of that little bastard of a husband of yours, or I'll be back!" Rising, he rearranged his clothing, turned and strode out, leaving the door open and her still lying on the floor. That wasn't the end of it, of course. Inez braced Raoul with his mistake, and went as far as telling him that Jason had visited her, raising Hell and making threats -- but left out the throat rape. Raoul thought it was humorous until she got angry and cut him off for a week. Eventually, Raoul made an appearance before Jason to mend fences -- which told Jason pretty much what Raoul knew and what he didn't; Jason knew that if Raoul knew that he'd molested his wife, he'd have made a fool of himself gunning for Jason and perhaps forced Jason to kill him. Therefore, Raoul didn't know -- and if Inez was going to keep Jason's actions to herself once, she'd do it multiple times... Two weeks later, Raoul stepped in it again over some errand Armand had sent him on -- Inez didn't know what it was, but damage control had been required. Jason found her in the sitting room of their quarters and left her draped over a chair back, exhausted, with a bright red ass and a cunt full of semen, but treasuring the memory of three wild orgasms. Two weeks after that, punishment for some peccadillo of Raoul's left her kneeling in her own bed, cum leaking from her distended ass and bright red whip weals all over her back -- but yes, she'd orgasmed THEN, too! After that, it was open season; Jason stopped seriously looking for reasons -- except perhaps for reasons to send Raoul out of the house for a few hours... Inez continued to punish Raoul by withholding sex; the primary reason was to hide whatever marks Jason left on her -- but the secondary, unacknowledged reason was that her abuser provided such incredible sex mixed with his abuse that Inez wasn't terribly interested in Raoul's less-inspired efforts; why fight for one orgasm, when she could be carried along to several? Raoul, faced with this lack of interest, began to wander, using his position to obtain relief from those lower on the totem pole than he was, using much the same tactics as Jason was. Armand's denial of the Wench's services struck home with Raoul, therefore. This slowly deteriorating situation had been going on for just over four years, but the threads were seriously fraying... Inez's hold on Raoul had weakened quite a bit -- another denial atop a long series was just life as usual, and Raoul had learned to cope, in any case, so he was drifting further and further out of control. Six months before, after a more outrageous screw-up, Jason had therefore dealt with Raoul directly, using the tools that he knew Raoul would respect; he'd physically beaten the smaller man into submission and then anally raped him, a common practice for Jason that backfired somewhat in Raoul's case because of the effect that it had on Raoul's self-image. Raoul was effectively off-line for several days afterward, while he worked to cope with this total violation of his machismo, and for some time after he was alternately furtive and vicious. A month and a half later, Jason tried another tactic, one that was ultimately worse; he'd beaten Raoul senseless, bound him, applied a ring gag, and throat fucked him. This made Raoul a cocksucker in his own eyes; it took days to pry him out of his room, and nothing could remove the shame. Jason shrugged and gave up on THAT. Besides, Armand had upbraided him severely for the acts, in the process revealing that he was fully aware of Jason's diversions with Inez... Armand had detected the activity almost immediately, but he let it pass without comment because he wanted to give Jason the freedom to operate without his actions being limited by the knowledge that his employer and mentor was observing -- but Armand saw EVERYTHING that went on in his mansion; Jason's attempts to avoid detection by killing one camera circuit activated another that he was unaware of. This kind of thing amused Armand greatly; for him there was nothing better than setting someone up to think that they were getting away with something, then filming their antics. Jason actually surprised Armand in the mode of his dealings with Inez; Jason's normal pattern was to be uniformly vicious with his victims, testing them to destruction by inventing and implementing torture after torture in a rapid sequence until they cracked and became mindless putty -- and sex had very little to do with it, except as a source of pain and humiliation. Jason's pattern of activity with Inez was different, however; certainly he beat her and the sex was brutal -- Armand suspected that Jason was constitutionally incapable of being gentle. But the physical violence was mild, almost recreational, and the emphasis was on sex. Armand was fascinated; he was unable to figure out what hold the stocky little Chicana had on his chief henchman; seldom did one of Jason's little projects hold his interest for more than four hours, much less four years... There were a couple of certainties in the situation, however; it was deteriorating rapidly, and forbidding Jason the use of Inez wouldn't stop it. Raoul was the primary point of failure -- the man was as vicious as he was stupid, and that made him too blunt an instrument for most of Armand's purposes in the first place; acquiring him had been a mistake. Perhaps this new tactic of exposing his daughter to various dangers and humiliations would be effective; certainly efforts with his wife had failed... And as for forbidding Jason his pleasure, that was unwise. Jason would be driven to disobey, driving a wedge between himself and Armand -- something Armand preferred to avoid; good help was SO hard to find, and Jason was one in a million, being as savvy and intelligent as he was vicious. There was one hole card out in the situation, however, and Inez was holding it. Despite Jason's admonition to pursue birth control, Inez hadn't, for two reasons: First, she was a good Catholic woman, and the Pope said it was a bad thing. And second, because she could not have hidden it from her husband forever, and the realization that she was using birth control would have brought all kinds of ideas to Raoul's jealous mind, some of which had a basis. Inez had merely hoped and prayed and exercised what little control she had over the situation to ensure that Jason didn't use her when she was fertile. Six weeks ago, however, she'd failed totally; Jason had decided that he would assault her womanhood and she'd been too slow to react to come up with a way to divert him (usually, complaining of excessive tenderness in another orifice sufficed to divert him to it via reverse psychology; Jason would have been mortified to discover just how manipulable he was using that tactic). Suddenly, the riding crop he'd been using on her went flying, his hands settled on her tetas from behind, and he had entered her, quickly, and subjected her to his usual pounding attack, something that lasted through two orgasms before he emptied his cojones into her. And three weeks ago, her monthly failed to occur... All of this flickered through Inez's mind as she entered her daughter's bedroom. "Bianca, Sweetheart, we have a problem." "Mama?" Bianca looked up from the television. Inez settled onto the bed, sighing. "Your father has angered Mister Armand. Since punishing him or punishing me is ineffective, now they've come to you." "What? How?" Bianca's eyes popped. "Papa refused to come when the puta called him, telling him Mister Armand wanted something. Now, since Papa wouldn't do it, YOU get to follow the puta around for a week, cleaning up after her." Bianca rolled her eyes. "She's a slave, Mama. You SHOULD be calling her 'the Wench'." "'The Wench' may be WHO she is, but WHAT she is is a puta, a whore," Inez asserted. Bianca eyed her mother sidelong. "Mama, I don't think I'd point fingers." Bianca had discovered her mother and Mister Jason some time back. Mister Jason hadn't seen her, but Inez had, and it had led to a whole series of mother-daughter conversations. Bianca knew why punishing her mother had been ineffective -- 'punishment' no longer truly described the activity... "Well, she will be doing what she does. You're going to see..." Inez sighed, shook her head. "Mister Jason fuck her?" Bianca asked rhetorically. Inez's hand flashed out, but Bianca ducked, and continued, "I've seen him with YOU..." Inez took another swing, but it was reflexive. Inez grumbled, "I'm not happy about you being exposed to... that. But I don't think Mister Jason uses the puta." She looked vaguely pleased, then frowned. "Mister Armand doesn't just sex his women, any more than Mister Jason. They both do a lot more. Terrible things. Abuse. And if one of them takes an interest in you..." Bianca rolled her eyes. "Oh, Mama! If Mister Armand liked young girls, we'd know it. It will be all right. I can handle it." "Well, maybe," Inez agreed reluctantly. "Still, you will be exposed to... unpleasant things." "When?" "Tomorrow morning, from six until seven, then again after school," Inez replied. Bianca shrugged. "I'd better go to bed, then." Inez got up and left, shaking her head. Elsewhere in the house, Jason was upbraiding Raoul: "Your time in our Master's house is growing short, fool! What possessed you to ignore instructions coming from Him?" Raoul shrugged, attempting unsuccessfully to appear unruffled. "I figured the slut was merely overreaching herself. It was an honest mistake." "She re-couched the requirement in order to ensure that there was no misunderstanding! And you STILL insisted on assuming that she was merely lazy! I've almost become resigned to your stupidity, but when you expose it to the Master in this manner..." He shook his head. Perhaps he should beat the fool again? "Now, your daughter will pay the price of your disregard -- you realize that she will receive a somewhat... unprecedented sexual education during her tenure as the Wench's servant..." Raoul released a chunk of his anger, "If she is molested in any way... !" Jason waved dismissal. "That is not the point of the exercise; she will be as much a virgin at the end of her tenure as she is now. But she will certainly be less virginal in her outlook, having witnessed the things that she undoubtedly WILL witness." Raoul sneered, "Well, if it cannot be avoided, at least I can anticipate that she will learn a few things that her mother has apparently forgotten." Jason's face froze more than it's already expressionless wont. "Perhaps she is withholding her efforts awaiting someone worthy of them." This was a bit much. Jason watched Raoul's face reflect the new doors that suspicion opened in his mind. It was an ugly sight. "What do you mean?" "Nothing. Perhaps only the fact that if your sex life is not what it should be, it might be a reflection of your performance." He sneered. "It seems that nowadays you can only get your satisfaction from those who are defenseless before you. One has to wonder whether you are unwilling to perform properly, or unable." He paused a moment, then got back on track, "The subject at hand, however, is your performance of your duties as your Master's servant, not as a husband. I'm tired of putting up with the poor quality of your efforts, and I suspect that even the indignities that your daughter will suffer over the next week will be insufficient to teach you anything. If that is the case, your days of comfort in our Master's house are numbered..." Jason turned from the dapper little man with a wave of dismissal, and stalked from the room, fuming. Dammit! Tonight, he couldn't even abuse Inez! And the Wench was sacrosanct; her part in this was that of the injured party. Consuela? No, Jorge! Armand had effectively denied him any sexual abuse of the chauffer (who WAS bisexual; it wasn't as if he was Raoul, and capable of insanity over a little butt-fuck), but he COULD slap him around a bit... Armand, having watched the interview on a monitor in his office, shook his head. Perhaps it WAS time for Raoul to move on. Physically disposing of him would be unpleasantly complicated... Perhaps... Armand began turning scenarios over in his mind. One thing was clear; the optimum situation would be one that allowed Inez to remain in his house -- the daughter, too, for now. The idea that the woman could replace her husband in most of his 'indoor' duties occurred almost immediately; however, he and Jason needed to discuss certain aspects of THAT, too, for Armand had never used Inez -- but he would, if she were a servant; it was more or less a requirement of her employment that he impose his will upon her in a direct, physical manner, periodically. Given the fact that Jason had an unusual fondness for the woman, there could be complications... Armand had detected the suspicions that Jason's uncharacteristically foolish remark had triggered in Raoul as easily as his majordomo had; If Raoul actually caught Jason in the act in the near future, it would be difficult to impossible for Armand to justify favoring Jason in the resulting altercation, despite the fact that Raoul had more or less visited the whole thing upon himself... Armand shook his head. Things were getting complicated here at the Wilson mansion... "Wife!" Raoul roared, entering his quarters. "Husband?" Inez replied, in no less warning a tone. Raoul's recent reverses at the hands of Jason had even further eroded her respect for his manhood; the response was almost a direct challenge. "Have you been sleeping around on me? Offering your body to others while I was absent?" Inez's face shuttered. After a moment's recovery and examination of the content of the accusation, she affected outrage, "Of course not! I'm a good catholic woman and wife!" Inside, she was consoling herself with the limited truth of the denial; it had never quite come to that -- she'd never actively offered herself to Jason. No, he'd always come to her, always been the aggressor... She shied away from a close examination of just how easy she had made those attacks on occasion... But Raoul has seen enough to confirm his suspicions, accurately or not. "Adulterous slut!" he roared, wading in, "I'll teach YOU!" The ensuing altercation between them was unprecedented in its violence; recent events had eroded Inez's respect for her husband to the point that, rather than merely enduring them, she returned his blows, giving as good as she got. When Raoul finally retired to the couch, it was ostensibly because he preferred not to share a bed with an adulteress, but more accurately because he didn't want to reveal the extent of his injuries; among other things, he was smarting from the effects of not one but two solid kicks to the testicles. The altercation attracted the attention of others on the servant level, too. No one actually made to enter the Hernandez's rooms, or even called attention to themselves, but several gathered outside in case the sounds began to indicate the serious injury, or worse, of one of the participants. Notable among this group was Jason, who stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists until things quieted down. Such was the level of his agitation that the other observers slowly faded away -- including Jorge, who sensibly went into hiding, robbing Jason of an outlet for his frustrations. For the wench once known as Felicia, Tuesday morning too quickly followed a night of pleasant dreams, brought on by the evening's accomplishments. Her Master had used her ass for quite some time before dumping his seed in it, while obviously enjoying the plight of the woman who had once been his wife... The whole episode led to the realization that despite the fact that she'd never set foot in it, the woman Sharon was mistress of this house; the only odd thing about it was the fact that Master had apparently never realized this. Afterward, Master had sent her to Charles, her overseer, with instructions that he was to see to it that she was used further. Sir (she referred to Charles as Sir, by convention; he was her Training Master) used her thoroughly once before retiring to bed and once at three o'clock, allowing her to sleep across the foot of his bed rather than banishing her to her cage. A finger gently poked her and a soft voice murmured, "We-ench... We- ench..." Wench opened one eye. "Go 'way -- it's still dark." Charles opened one eye. "Up, Wench. The child has limited time available to her before she goes to school. What time is it, Lass?" "Six fifteen," Bianca related diffidently. "Is it all right to be here? Wench wasn't in her room..." There was no bed in the Wench's room; that was a big surprise to Bianca. The four by four foot cage that occupied the floor of the Wench's room didn't look too comfortable... And another thing: Mister Charles was obviously naked under the covers, as the Wench was, above... "Yes, Lass, it's fine; it comes within the realm of your duties," Charles replied. To Wench, he added, "Take her to the Media Room and have her clean up your mess there, then get a shower and have her shave you. She needs to be off to school by seven." Wench rose, knelt on the floor quickly, bowed her head from that position, rose, and withdrew. Once outside the room, Wench cupped a hand to her bare crotch, exclaiming, "We need to get to the bathroom, I'm in flood!" Bianca giggled and the pair raced to the nearby bath, Wench waddling around her cupped hands. Entering the bath, Wench seated herself on the toilet and waved Bianca into the bathroom. "C'mon, it's no time to stand on ceremony. Get me a washrag will you?" Bianca took a washrag out of the cabinet, and shoved it under the faucet, turning on the hot water. "Why do you do this?" "What, have sex?" Wench eyed the young Hispanic girl. Bianca was in the full flower of her youth; she was a perfect blend of her parent's best attributes, with the soft, round breasts and perky ass that her mother had at her age, but mounted on a leaner, tighter body. Bianca had her father's spark, layered over her mother's fatalistic temperament -- it made for a good combination. "I -- learned that it is what I do," the Wench finished lamely. Bianca sat on the tub edge and looked down at the Wench's crotch. She was sitting open-legged on the toilet, letting clotted semen drizzle out of her openings. "Why do you let them abuse you?" "Master showed me that I... like it." "Really?" Bianca asked. "I understand the sex, kind of, but the other stuff?" She sat there a moment, then shook her head. "Well, Mama seems to like it, too..." "Some of it is the man, Hon. I think maybe your Mama knows that." The Wench eyed the girl for a moment. "Jason?" "Uh huh." The Wench shuddered. "I don't see it -- your Mama must be worse than me! Jason is..." Another shudder. Bianca shook her head. "I know; I've seen enough. But it's funny ------- when he abuses Mama, it's like he's going through the motions. He just kind of gets her going. Then they have sex -- and Mama loves it, you can tell..." Wench shook her head. "Damn. That's a surprise." She paused a moment. "I started out thinking I was going to bowl Master over, and he'd set me up for life. But he led me deeper and deeper, demanding more and more... Something broke; I realized that I needed HIM, not the other way around. And I would do anything to please him. Anything." She shook her head. "Master likes his women to struggle and fight. I... can't. I live to serve, now." She sighed. "I'm an occasional convenience to my Master; my role is to service his guests. Last night was a good night; he used me well." "Did he beat you?" "No." The Wench smiled. "He just used me. Then he sent me to Sir to use again, knowing Sir would keep me in his bed." She grabbed some toilet paper and dabbed at her vagina. "We need to hurry; you need to shave me, then go to the media room and clean up some vomit there. I should be out of the shower by then, and you can French braid my hair." "Vomit?" The Wench hung her head. "He went deep in my throat when he came. I... lost it." She raised her head. "I'll be training today. Master no doubt intends that you see it." She nodded toward the medicine cabinet. "Shaving gear is in there." Bianca collected a can of foam and the razor, and turned to the Wench. "I've... never. Mama doesn't." Mirth lit the Wench's eyes. "Well, I do. Your Mama might want to do it for Jason. But she'd better ask him first." She glanced at the sink. "Hot water. You smear the soap on and I'll hold things steady while you swipe at it." Bianca ran the water, turning to smear the lather on the unfamiliarly smooth pudenda of the Wench. Embarrassment flickered across her features. "Don't you usually do this?" The Wench smiled. "Yes. But I was told to have you do it, so that's how it will be. Get the razor." Bianca took it and bent her head to hide her embarrassment while she worked the upper slope. Wench didn't let her off the hook: "Feel it; make sure it's slick. I won't go out and have Master angry because it's scruffy." Bianca did as she was told, blushing furiously. "Okay," the Wench continued, "I'll stretch the lips, and you can work on that. Don't cut me!" The redhead was thin, and didn't have much in the way of outer labia, but she had long, thin, leathery inner lips with little round, dime-sized extensions that made natural grip points for the exercise. Bianca made a note to herself to really give herself a close examination in a mirror; she was pretty sure SHE didn't look like that down there... Biting her lip, she laid her left thumb along the bulge at the top of the woman's slit and started drawing the razor along the area on the outside of the Wench's right inner lip. The Wench's eyes closed, and she hissed, "Easy, my clit is pretty sensitive!" Bianca let up on the thumb pressure, and the Wench asked conversationally, "Do you masturbate?" "Um, yes." Bianca kept her head down, concentrating on her work as an escape from embarrassment. "Well, this week, you might see things that make you want to. I'd do it in private, if I were you; somebody might get the idea that you're available," the Wench cautioned. The pair switched lips, and she continued, "Some women don't orgasm; some can only cum once or twice, and they're wasted. Me, any time I cum, it only whets my appetite for the next one." She caught Bianca's eye. "Women who can't cum and don't miss it aren't distracted, and can do big things in the world -- secure our place as equals with men. But the rest of us need a man -- or at least another woman... I've made my choice; others can do the big things -- I'll serve my Master. It gets me the kind of fulfillment I'm looking for..." Bianca finished the other side during this soliloquy, so the Wench sat back, announcing, "Okay, we're done. I'll hop in the shower and rinse off while you get the mess in the media room. You know where to find the cleaning stuff, right?" At Bianca's nod, she added, "Hurry back, I want you to braid my hair pretty, like yours!" The pair parted, the girl dashing for the stairs. ------- Tuesday was a normal morning at the home of the distaff Wilsons. Sharon got up and prepared Nora's breakfast and saw her off, as usual, before settling back with coffee and the newspaper. This was valuable research, not mere recreation; current events were an essential part of discovering leverage for Armand's corporate charitable contributions. Besides, it kept Sharon from going over the revelations of the night before... Nora arrived at school relatively early, and glanced around for someone to ally herself with. The usual group hadn't arrived yet, but Tenisha Porter and Draper Travis were seated together, not holding hands, but touching from shoulder to hip, their privacy about them like a shield. She hung back for a moment, but Tenisha looked up and waved her over. "So, how's it going with Nate?" "Good," Nora was momentarily pensive, then smiled. "Real good. Surprisingly good." Tenisha eyed Draper for a moment, then ventured, "I'm surprised. He's been good, then? I know a bunch of girls who won't believe THAT!" "Well, it's a difference in approach," Nora chuckled. "I give him positive reinforcement." "Uh huh." Tenisha was dubious. "You seen him since Saturday night? Got any idea what he's telling his buds?" She speared Draper with a look. Draper threw up his hands. "Don' look at me! I ain't seen him since yesterday mornin'!" Nora smiled. "I believe that; he was with me last night." "Damn, Girl!" Tenisha exclaimed, "His mouth gets running, you won't have any reputation left!" Nora feigned innocence. "I didn't say we had sex!" Tenisha snorted. "The Hell you didn't! It was right there in the tone of your voice!" She grinned. "Well, at least you won't be catching any shit from sistahs! Nate wasn't exactly a hot property..." "Speak o' the Devil," Draper announced. Nate's ratty Chevette hit the parking lot; he and Stick Williams piled out. Various women scurried around, arranging it so that they weren't looking Nate's way, but he had one target only; he laid a hand on Nora's hip, nuzzled her ear, and murmured, "Hey, Baby." Tenisha waited for Nate to start making noise, and Nora to peel his hand off; neither happened. Nate seemed perfectly happy to stand there with Nora leaning back against him. "So, Nate, no shit?" "Huh?" Nate visibly shifted his attention from something -- the feel of Nora leaning against him? -- and answered, "Nah. Why? Don' need it." Tenisha flicked a glance at Draper, whose eyes were laughing. "Wow!" Stick Williams piped up, "Mus' be some good shit -- he won' even talk about it." Nate flicked him a mild glance. "Ain't polite. Besides, no need to get you all jealous." His eyes flicked to Nora, but she let it ride; it WAS pretty mild, after all... Stick shrugged. "I got Mary." It seemed like EVERYBODY exchanged a glance after that remark; Fat Mary Nally wasn't considered a catch by the guys, and the girls were equally surprised that she seemed to have gotten a grip on the narrow black -- after all, they were about as different as you could get... Mary Nally was strawberry blonde, freckled, and rather unfortunately built, below the neck. She had small, pretty hands and feet, but there were layered rolls of fat on her torso that left her generally unappetizing. By contrast, Stick was tall and skeletal; fat was something unknown to him, physically. Draper opened his mouth, thought a moment, and shut it; the whole thing wasn't any of his business. The group passed the next few minutes in quiet conversation before separating for first period, but later, the groups reorganized by sex to compare notes. The guys did it first, in the locker room after gym: "So, Nate, you're lookin' pretty mellow, Man..." Draper teased. "Yeh," Nate grunted. "I got no complaints; Nora's Mama even fed me last night. Shit, I might get fat, 'cept for the exercise." Stick flicked a glance at Nate. "You two fuckin'?" "Are you and Mary?" Nate challenged. Stick flicked a glance at Teddy Frick, who was dressing on the other end of the bench. "I might be. Mary's kinda sweet, once you get past the excess baggage she's carryin'." "An' Teddy? Where's HE fit in?" Draper asked. "I ain't tellin'," Stick grinned, but he REALLY didn't want that pursued. But Teddy got seriously brave, for him, and leaped into the breach. "Even Stick can't last forever. I keep her occupied while he recharges!" Surprised laughter greeted this sally, and Nate responded, "Shit, Mary's that hot? I oughta..." Uncharacteristically, Nate stopped dead in mid sentence, flicking a glance around. "Come to think of it, I'm doin' just fine..." As a further distraction, he rounded on Draper, "So, how about you and Ol' Pancake Tits?" Draper, called out, forgot to watch his tongue. "Ol' Pancake Tits has a FINE set of stiff nipples an' fucks like a goddamn..." His eyes popped, and he shut up, abruptly, to general laughter. Nate glanced around, and murmured conspiratorially, "Okay, Man, it's just us -- an' Teddy, who I figure has a stake in things." Both Teddy and Stick nodded. "I figure we can brag a LITTLE if we keep it in the family..." This brought general nods, so he continued, "Awright. Nora is... well, HOT! She's a fuckin' miracle, an' there be a lot of just stupid motherfuckers in THIS school, to let ME get to her first!" "Yeah, right!" Stick chortled. "Like you're fuckin' her!" "Stick," Draper deadpanned, "Nate's fuckin' her. He took her cherry Saturday night. I WAS THERE!" "Sheeit! You seen it? Damn!" Stick was wide-eyed. "Well, I wasn't there for the main event, but I gave him the rubber, and Nora was s-," Draper trailed off at Nate's warning headshake. "The sounds came up the stairs while I was with Tenisha, Man, you don' fake those... That was one happy little b-". Another warning shake from Nate stopped Draper; he shook his head. "I woke up an' the world was turnin' backwards! I'm gettin' language lessons from Nate! Whatever happened to a ho's a ho?" "Is 'Nisha a ho?" Nate challenged. "Awright," Draper growled. "Ya made yer point, Man." "Yeh, maybe, but I'm out here on this limb an' you ain't said shit! What happened when she took you upstairs?" Nate demanded. "We ran dead smack into her Pa, is what!" Draper laughed. "But 'Nisha -- an' 'Nisha's Ma -- didn't let that stop us! You wasn't the only bruthuh pickin' cherries Saturday night!" "Heh, I figured," Nate laughed. Then he turned eyes like gunbarrels on the other two. "So what the fuck is going on 'tween YOU two and Fat Mary?" Stick shrugged. "Ain't no secret Mary likes dick," he began, "but it also ain't no secret she wants a steady supply. Teddy offered me a ride home when my ride suddenly turned up with a woman," he speared Draper with a look, "so she wouldn't be able to practice usin' her man-trap on him." He glanced at Teddy, who sat, mum, absorbing what would become the 'official' tale, and continued. "Well, Mary had some beer up at her place, an' we figured we was safe, there bein' two of us. Turns out we wasn't; Mary managed to get a piece or two from each of us. When the word went out that Mary was usin' her pussy to catch men, nobody mentioned the fact that it's pretty good shit..." Teddy piped up, "She gives pretty good head, too!" Stick nodded, grinning. Not quite as good as Teddy, but... "Anyway, I figure shit that works good is better than shit that just LOOKS good -- how many times you heard about hot-lookin' bitches that turned out to be worthless when it came to givin' 'em the bone?" He nudged Teddy. "Ted an' me got this deal goin' -- we both work her, equal time, keepin' her confused over which one o' us she wants. Everybody gets their share of fuckin'; everybody's happy. I can't lose -- in the first place, she's white, in the second, she has a nice crib, and in the third place there's the old saw, 'Heat in winter, shade in summer, an' a soft place to lie down year 'round!' " Nate shook his head. "When you look at it THAT way..." He shrugged. "I got kinda lucky, that way, too -- I THINK." "Whazzat mean?" Draper asked. "Well, I figured we'd take shit from Nora's Mama, but she only seemed unhappy 'cause her Daddy was gonna give HER shit. An' that didn't happen! Nora's old man is some rich fucker, but him an' her ol' lady are divorced, an' he keeps her an' Nora on a short leash. Real rich folk stuff; they get spied on all the time by private dicks an' shit. Sunday, Nora's Daddy sent this big fucker to see me an' tell me that it was okay, me datin' Nora. 'Course, the other half was if I fucked up, I was gonna get my ass stomped. I got THAT loud an' clear, too." He shook his head, remembering. "BIG fucker. But, shit, if all I gotta do to stay out of the doghouse is be with Nora, I can't find no downside to it." "No?" Draper wondered. "Sounds like waitin' fer an ass-whippin' to me..." "Nah," Nate demurred. "I figure if she decides she don't want ME around, things'll go easy as long as I ain't stupid about it -- only way I'll catch trouble is if I decide to dump HER. But thing are GOOD -- why would I want to fuck it up?" He looked around the group. "Okay, so, we all got laid Saturday night. Anybody ELSE get any since?" Draper raised his eyebrows. "You got pussy--" "Last night. Twice. THEN her Mama fed me more spaghetti that I ever ate in my life!" Nate preened, to general grins around the bench. Draper, shaking his head, glanced at his watch. "Hey, we better get outta here! I got a woman now; don' need detention!" The group began scrambling into their clothes. ------- Chapter 4A: Girl Talk and Videos Nora and Mary shared lunch, and it was their usual catch-up time. Nibbling on a carrot stick, Mary broached the subject, "So, how's the new boyfriend?" Nora glanced up from her burger. She knew why Mary settled for raw vegetables, poor thing, but she needed something a bit more substantial. "Oddly enough, he's just fine. Dina was right; all he needed was a little carrot and a lot less stick. I figure with a little work, he'll even be presentable in public!" She grinned. "Seriously, though, Nate is a lot sweeter than anybody would have guessed. What about YOU and your male harem?" Nora expected one of Mary's slightly snide comebacks, followed by some serious bragging, but instead, she was slightly hesitant and a lot more serious. "You want the truth, or the official story?" Nora's head came up, and Mary glanced around to see if they were in any danger of being overheard. "I'm gonna bust a gut if I don't tell SOMEBODY..." Nora leaned in. "Why don't you start with the official story, and then pick it to pieces." "All right." Mary put her hands flat on the table and leaned forward earnestly. "The official story is that we all got drunk and watched porn flicks, and I took on all comers. There's a lot of truth to it, but it doesn't begin to cover what REALLY went on..." She glanced around again. "This can go nowhere; I'm telling you because you're my best friend and I have to tell SOMEBODY, but if it gets out..." She shrugged. "Well, people could get hurt. And I'd KNOW who did it!" "Oooo, secrets!" Nora exclaimed. "Cool!" Then she settled down, "Okay, I promise -- I won't tell a soul." "Okay." Mary's eyes moved constantly, watching for eavesdroppers, and Nora got the point -- this was going to be serious. "You know which way Teddy's been leaning..." Nora nodded. "Well, Saturday night, he ducked into the Men's Room and was giving anonymous blowjobs. I guess that there was a hole between a couple of the stalls, or something -- guys stuck their cocks through and Teddy gave 'em head." Nora nodded, excited. It was a pretty interesting concept... "Well, about midnight, Teddy comes out of the bathroom like his tail feathers are on fire, and parks next to me. A couple of minutes later, Stick comes wandering out of the Men's Room with cum on his shoe, and starts casually pumping me for the names of recent passers-by. Teddy got nervous, and I added two and two and got six --then proceeded to take advantage of it!" "Oh, Holy Shit! You mean?" "Yeah. Turns out Teddy'd drained Stick's balls, and Stick enjoyed it a lot and was looking for a re-match." Mary chuckled. "Teddy had been pissing and moaning about taking me home alone, but now I had him by the balls. I got him to offer to take Stick, too -- ostensibly to provide him with some safety -- by threatening to out him to Stick, who was all set to put a dress on him and keep him for a girlfriend, if he could catch him. Teddy said later he'd threatened to do just that in the Men's Room." Nora tittered, and Mary continued, "Well, we went to my house, and up the back stairs to my room..." "You mean your apartment!" Nora interjected. Mary nodded. "Yeah. Stick's eyes just about bugged out of his head -- poor guy sleeps on a broken-down couch at home, I found out. Anyway, I was out of my party dress and into my green nightie before they'd stopped arguing over which brand of beer to drink." She grinned. Nora laughed. "THAT short thing? It shows about everything, when you sit down!" Mary wiggled her eyebrows. "... Which I did, almost immediately. Teddy was so scared, he was about to pee his pants, so we sent him off to the bathroom with a beer." She shook her head. "I think he chugged it; he was fucked up when he came out." She sat forward. "In the meantime, I had a heart to heart talk with Stick. I outed Teddy, but warned Stick that if he abused him, I'd tell everybody that Stick was queer, too. That slowed him 'way down..." Mary grinned, remembering. "Then I threw a porn flick in the VCR, dragged Teddy out of the bathroom, and triggered the man-trap!" Nora shook her head. "What did you do? I don't quite understand..." Mary grinned. "I made 'em an offer they couldn't refuse. Neither of them had ever had pussy, and both were so hard up that gay sex looked good. I told 'em that they could try anything they wanted with each other, right there -- but both of 'em had to fuck me!" "And?" Nora was amazed. "And then the wild shit started," Mary confirmed. "Lemme see -- first, we had Show and Tell -- the boys hadn't really been exposed to the real thing -- then some round-robin clit diddling and cocksucking. I drank about a quart from Teddy, which caused him to kinda lose interest, so Stick poked me with his while Teddy and I swapped spit... Is this all too graphic for ya?" She grinned from ear to ear. "NO!" Nora was fascinated! An orgy! Or at least a... menage? Something French... Mary grinned. "After that, the boys tried a few things while I sat out, just lending a hand here and there. After a while, I started to feel left out, so I found a spot to link up and we did this sandwich thing with Teddy in the middle..." Nora frowned, trying to picture it. Anything she came up with was a homosexual act... Mary let her off the hook. "Stick had Teddy's ass, and I had his cock. And it was very, very good! I've been right to be hunting the little shit all this time..." Nora continued to frown, absorbing this. "So they did the whole gay sex thing? Where does that leave everybody?" Mary shrugged. "Well, they did the whole straight sex thing, too, and that was at least equally successful. I figure Stick could do without getting sex from guys without even thinking about it -- but he's not terribly embarrassed about it, either, and Teddy sucks a mean cock and his ass is pretty good, too, sooo..." She frowned. "If anybody's confused right now, it's probably Teddy. The boy likes cock, and he's good at what he does -- he had himself all convinced he was queer -- but he's discovered that he likes pussy, too, and he's VERY good at that! You haven't lived until you've had his tongue in your pussy!" "Gawd, Mary! The things you say!" Nora laughed, her face pink. "What about YOU?" "Me?" Mary sat back, and her eyelids drooped. "I think I can take my pick." "Really?" "Yeah," Mary sighed, "but it's not going to be easy. They're very different, but both very good..." "Oh?" "Yeah. Stick's pretty laid back and confident -- and once he gets going, he's a machine! Teddy -- well, you know Teddy; he's still kind of a little boy. Still, there's something in each of them that needs mothering..." "Teddy's pretty small, all around. I don't suppose he's got much, down there..." Nora ventured. "Well, you'd be right -- and you'd be wrong," Mary returned. "You're right in that his cock isn't awful long -- but it's got this huge, wide head, like a mushroom! It's like THIS, for Christs' sake!" She made an 'O' by joining the thumb and forefinger of each hand to demonstrate Teddy's amazing girth. "It's like being done with a bathroom plunger! Stick said Beulah Tyrone would sit up and take notice! Frankly, there's no way Teddy's ever gonna get a cherry -- no virgin could take him!" "No shit! Wow!" Nora exclaimed. THAT was sure a surprise! "And Stick?" "Couldn't be more different. His cock is built like he is -- narrow and LOOOOONG! When he did me, he hit bottom -- and kept going! And was THAT weird!" Mary exclaimed. "Huh?" Nora frowned in confusion. "I don't know how I managed it, but Stick popped right through my cervix! It was weird! Hurt a little bit, but it was good, too! Kind of a good sore, like picking a scab..." Nora nodded; she'd experienced the sensation, too. Mary went on, "He's damned good with it; once in the saddle, he just goes and goes..." Mary got wistful. "I could use another shot of that..." "Are you gonna get one?" Nora asked. "Yeah, I figure. Saturday night went REAL well -- nobody felt any pressure. Both of 'em have basically said they'll be back. From the way they've been acting the past couple of days, I'd say that they were both telling the truth." "What about the gay sex thing?" Mary shrugged. "I don't mind. I think they're both gonna discover they're basically straight -- bi, worst case. There seems to be plenty of room for me, and I know that when things settle out, I'll have most of whichever one I pick, even if he still wants to play man games. Stick, for instance: he won't settle out queer -- he just wants to be on top. I had to browbeat him into sucking Teddy's cock, warning him that it wasn't fair to Teddy for him to just pump juice into the boy from both ends -- he's NEVER gonna take a cock up that skinny ass, ESPECIALLY that fat monster of Teddy's!" Nora just sat there, her face a mask of wonder. "I can't believe you talked a boy into sucking another boy's cock!" Mary shrugged. "It was only fair. Poor Teddy was willing to take it in both ends! If he turns out queer, what kind of a relationship is that? How would YOU like to just give blowjobs and be fucked in the ass all the time, and not even get your pussy licked?" Mary's eyes twinkled. "HAVE you been fucked in the ass? Have you even had that pussy licked? Well? It's your turn -- give!" Nora colored. "Um, no ass, yet, but Nate has a pretty good tongue. Oh, and a NICE cock..." Her tone as she said this spoke volumes. Mary smiled. "So, Nate took your cherry Saturday night. How was it? Knowing Nate, it was rough in spots, I figure." Nora's retort was arch, "Then you DON'T know Nate! He was incredibly gentle, sorry it hurt -- you have no idea! I practically raped him -- not vice versa! He was willing to stop any time, wait until another day... Once we'd settled on the ground rules, and Nate was sure I wasn't just messing with his head, well, there was a whole other Nate in there..." Nora's eyes were starry. "Well, I'll be damned! Who'd have thought that? Congratulations, Sweetie! So he's not just the climb on and pump type, huh?" "Oh, no!" Nora averred. She eyed Mary sidelong, embarrassed. "Tenisha might tell; she knows quite a bit, since we did it at her house. She was making out with Draper..." "Oh? So her and Draper took, too?" "Uh huh. They went upstairs, and I'm pretty sure Draper got her cherry, too -- but not before I acted like a total slut in front of the pair of them. I got a grip on Nate's cock, and I just went nuts! It's embarrassing, now, to think about it. I just couldn't get enough! The smell, the feel, the taste..." Nora shook herself and came back. "I was a wild woman; Nate had to borrow a rubber from Draper. If one of them talks, my rep is TOTALLY destroyed." Mary sat back and laughed, her torso jiggling. "So you raped Nate? THAT's a switch!" Nora smiled through her embarrassment, "Well, it wasn't QUITE rape, since Nate was more than willing -- but he'd have stopped any time." She shook her head in wonder. "And he LOVES my ass! He just rubs it and squeezes it, and babbles about how sweet it is... To me, it's just fucking huge..." "You're gonna have to let him stick his dick in it..." Mary's grin was huge. Nora made a face. "Doesn't sound too nice." "If he's gentle," Mary argued, "-- and you SAY he is -- you can cum that way, believe it or not. It's different from having your pussy ironed from the inside, but it can be real pleasant; a little clit-diddling, and BOOM!" Actually, the only time Mary had ever done it, clit-diddling hadn't been required, but she felt it was best to suggest the idea to Nora, just in case... "Cumming is mostly in your head, Hon -- if you're happy and not hung up, it'll happen. You'd be amazed at the things that get people off." 'Maybe not, ' Nora thought, thinking of her father. "So, you've had anal sex?" Mary sighed. "What, you don't know? Everybody ELSE in school does! Nick Pendergast saw to THAT!" "I heard something..." Mary chuckled wryly. "That was the night I discovered alcohol. One beer, and I was looped. Nick had a hand in my panties while I was still trying to figure out how many he had. He rode me to two climaxes, then rolled me over and worked it into my ass. Afterwards, I was in love, but Nick was looking for a wild tale about what a stud he was. Forty eight hours later, the whole world knew I was a slut." "That's a little harsh..." "No, Hon -- it's true. I'm a slut. I LOVE sex -- and for me, that's a drawing card! Otherwise, I'd have no contact with boys at all!" Mary grinned. "Well, maybe. If loving sex is all it takes to be a slut, I'm one, too. Sex with Nate is..." Nora relied on the look to cover the indescribable. Mary laughed. "Give him some ass, sometime. But get some K-Y first!" "Yeah, yeah, whatever," Nora laughed. "Seriously, how are you guys gonna handle this?" "We kinda set the ground rules Saturday night," Mary related. "They can do each other at my house, any time, and only I -- and now, YOU -- will know. But they have to fuck ME, too. If they come to see me, I try to give equal time until somebody decides on a preference. The worst thing that could happen would be some kind of bi love triangle. Maybe the best would be some kind of permanent sandwich arrangement." "Isn't this mostly just hope? When's your next date?" Nora asked. "Well, I dunno. They've both been nice since Saturday. And they haven't dumped on me. But we haven't set anything new... So when does Nate plan to follow up on Saturday night?" Mary attacked. "Goodness, we had sex last night!" Nora returned. "No shit?" Mary was taken aback. "Where?" "My room." Nora preened herself. "When Daddy told Mom that it was okay, she just kind of rolled over on the whole thing. Besides, he's riding HER right now..." Mary, being Nora's best friend, knew quite a bit about her relationship -- or lack of one -- with her father. But she hadn't been brought up to date... "What? When did your Dad mix in things?" Nora smiled; apparently, she'd upstaged Mary's little orgy. "Daddy is suddenly all over things -- at least by phone. He called Sunday morning and talked to Mom and me. I discovered that he's watching us a lot closer than we ever guessed." Mary sat forward, "What do you mean?" "I mean the first thing he asked was how good a lover Nate was!" "Holy shit!" Mary was amazed. "You're kidding!" "Uh uh. The way things are going, I wouldn't be surprised if he had it all on tape, despite the fact that it happened at Tenisha's!" "No way!" Nora shook her head. "That was just the first part. We figured that Daddy would go through the roof when he found out about Nate, but he didn't. I even tried to set him off for the Hell of it, and he wouldn't bite. He said something to the effect that he wouldn't interfere because he didn't want me to do anything stupid to spite him. But he sent a gorilla to see Nate Sunday afternoon." "To tell him to lay off?" Mary guessed. Nora shook her head. "Apparently, he told Nate that as long as he did right by me, he was golden -- but if he fucked me over..." "... What?" Mary asked. "I don't think a specific threat was made. But the gorilla was threat enough -- Nate said he could have used him for a toothpick." "What else?" "Daddy didn't say much more to me, but he put Mom through the wringer over the phone. One thing was pretty simple -- he gave her instructions to write me a note to get me out of school, yesterday, to go to get the Pill." "That's where you were third and fourth periods?" Mary asked. "Yeah. That's a tale in itself -- Daddy's limo picked me up... Anyway, then he unloaded a BUNCH of crap on Mom -- she wouldn't tell all, but I'm starting to get a sense of it. One thing she DID say surprised me, though -- she and Daddy are still having sex!" "What?" Nora nodded. "I've told you that Daddy is into the power thing, right? Well, it's a lot worse than I ever suspected. When Mom goes to see him, she always comes back weirded out. I never knew why, but I learned to leave her alone for a bit, after. It turns out that he fucks her in his office -- usually in front of witnesses -- about every other time she goes there. And when he doesn't fuck her, he's fucking somebody ELSE in front of HER!" "Wow! No shit?" "Nope. Mom told me -- I think Daddy threatened her with something or other if she didn't, and it must've been a doozy, from the look on her face. But I got independent confirmation, yesterday. But the real surprise, especially to Mom, was that HE RECORDS IT!" "What? NO WAY!" Nora nodded gravely, "Way. He sent Mom some DVDs of their sessions together Sunday night, along with some sex toys and some other flicks. I'm pretty sure he instructed her to diddle herself." "Think she will?" "I think she HAS! She looked kind of weird this morning. Mom ALWAYS does what Daddy tells her; I guess if she doesn't, the punishments go right off the scale, pretty quickly." "Wow!" Mary shook her head. "Does he do this kind of shit to everybody?" Nora shrugged. "Pretty much. The gynecologist told me he has a revolving door in his bedroom for women he sucks in, turns into total sex slaves, and dumps; according to him, Daddy's done every perversion in the books, and probably made up a couple. Daddy's chauffer told me that Daddy uses sex as a weapon, to dominate people; he's had sex with guys -- not because either he or they were queer, but because it humiliated the shit out of them. It's the same with the women; they come in looking for a free ride, to be the rich Mrs. Armand Wilson -- but they go out sluts, or worse." "Your daddy's chauffer told you this?" Nora grinned. "Yeah -- get this -- only AFTER Daddy told him on the phone that he could answer any question I asked without being punished! The car was wired for sound, and Daddy heard EVERYTHING!" "Wow! So he's all over the place!" Then her eyes bulged. "NOW?" Nora frowned, thinking about it. "Probably. I don't think it was any accident that he knew all about Nate and I -- and that was a spur of the moment thing." She picked at the hair at the nape of her neck. "Gee, I guess you'd better figure that Daddy knows about you, Teddy, and Stick, too..." Mary freaked; she started looking around EVERYWHERE in total paranoia. Nora's cell phone rang. She opened it, glanced at the number, and frowned. "Hello?" "Tell Mary to settle down before she hurts her neck," the voice on the other end chuckled. "I think she's a great kid, and I have no current blackmail plans." The phone went dead. Mary, watching the play of expression across Nora's face, went dead white. "Oh, SHIT!" Expressionless, Nora said, "Daddy says to settle down, before you get a crick in your neck. He likes you and has no plans to blackmail you..." She sat there for a minute. "I guess Daddy has been there all along, huh? I just couldn't see him..." "Oh, Lord, what ELSE have I told you?" Mary wailed. "Oh, stop it! Just because Daddy knows, doesn't mean it's public knowledge. Hell, we didn't know he knew until a second ago! He's not exactly Nick Pendergast. Jeez, does this mean we're no longer friends?" Mary rubbed her face. "No, I guess it doesn't make any difference. It hasn't thus far. He has to have known about Teddy, for instance, forever. But it was a BIG shock..." Nora nodded. "For me, too. I'll talk to Daddy about it when I see him Thursday night..." "You're gonna go SEE him? Wow! That's a switch!" "Yeah. I guess he's suddenly hands-on about things. We're gonna have a father-daughter talk at his house." "Freaky! When's the last time you saw him?" "I don't remember -- I was just a baby... Mom sees him all the time, but I'd talk to him over the phone once every couple of years... It's gonna be new and different." A bell rang, and both girls started, Mary exclaiming, "Shit, we gotta get outta here!" They collected their things, and departed for their differing afternoon classes, Nora waving and yelling, "Later, Mary!" at the cafeteria door. ------- Actually, Mary didn't have long to wait for her next engagement. After school, Stick arranged his lanky form next to hers as she came down the front steps. "Mary? You doin' anything tonight?" he asked diffidently. "Uhh, noooo..." Mary was caught flat-footed. This was more or less a first. "You think mebbe I could come over an' see ya for a while?" Mary eyed him. "Is this a threesome thing? Is Teddy coming?" "Uh, no, I was thinkin' mebbe jus' you an' me..." Stick was just realizing that he'd stepped off the deep end... ... And so did Mary. As soon as she got her legs under her, mentally, she started what both of them realized was 'jerking his chain'. "Did you clear this with Teddy? We agreed to equal time, y'know... What do you want to do?" "Uh, jus' hang out at your place, mebbe? Drink a beer, watch a little TV..." Stick knew better than to come right out with 'fuck'. Mary could read between the lines. "I still think you'd better check in with Teddy, Hon. Wouldn't be fair -- we might get carried away..." Stick was fucked -- how would he get a hold of Teddy? "Uhh..." "No problem, Honey!" Mary fished out her cell phone and hit the speed dial and handed it to Stick. Halfway across the parking lot, Teddy Frick's phone rang. It took a second for him to recognize it -- it was an unusual occurrence. "Hello?" "Ted? Hey, Man, it's Stick." Thirteen disjointed thoughts went through Teddy's mind: Stick had his phone number? Did he want his cock sucked again? Was this the blackmail call? Could he get Stick to suck HIS cock? It was sure itchy -- Teddy was perpetually horny since Saturday night... His ass was sore; he hoped Stick didn't want any more of THAT, yet... "Oh, hi, Stick. How'd you get my number?" "Mary had it." Stick hesitated, then dived in. "Hey, Man, I wanna go visit Mary tonight -- izzat okay with you?" "Uhhh, I guess so." Vague disappointment colored Teddy's voice. Fat Mary's hot mouth and even hotter pussy had been a major presence in his fantasies -- right up there with Stick's wonder wand. He'd been planning on calling her, later, after he came up with some tale to tell his Momma... "Hey, is she there? If you guys do tonight, has she got any plans for tomorrow?" "Hang on, I'll ask." Stick turned to Mary. "Teddy wants to know if you're open tomorrow..." Mary blinked. Son of a bitch! "Uh, I'll check. If I can't we can always look at Thursday..." 'Jeez, suddenly I need a social calendar! Ain't life grand!?' Stick went back to the phone, "She thinks so -- or ya'll can do Thursday." "Okay. Hey, Man -- are we done?" Teddy asked diffidently. "Uh..." Stick's memory FELT Teddy's magic mouth. "No. Don' think so." Shit, Mary's standin' right here... "Let's talk about it tomorrow." "Yeah, sounds good. Have fun! Let me know how it goes!" Teddy's good cheer wasn't exactly effortless. "'Kay, Man -- I'll check in wit' ya tomorrow." Stick hung up, turned to Mary. "Ted's cool, but he's gonna need his..." Mary divined the undercurrent. "We're both pretty important to him and he's feeling a bit left out, huh?" Stick nodded. "Well, we'll BOTH have to see to it that he doesn't have any reason to be too upset. When do you want to come over?" "Well, gotta do my homework..." "Hey, you're good at math, right? Why don't you bring your books and we'll just start with homework, and go from there! I need some help with polynomials..." "Yeah, okay. Lemme run by my place an' leave a note..." Like anybody cared, as long as he stayed out of jail... "Why don't you just call? Do you have a machine?" "Yeh. Dunno if anybody actually USES the fuckin' thing..." 'Still, it'll do the job -- my ass'll be covered... ' "Okay. Gimme the phone?" Mary did so, and Stick left a carefully worded message indicating that he'd be 'doing homework and hanging out with a friend' -- of course, he failed to realize that this careful phrasing would be a dead giveaway that he was up to something unusual -- a more normally phrased message would have been something on the order of "I'm gonna go out fuckin' around with Nate an' Draper." "Thanks, Mary. Let's go!" ------- Draper Travis stood on the school steps, watching both sources of his usual afternoon entertainment wander off with their new women -- Nate was bundling Nora into his beat-up Chevette as Stick and Mary left the property walking. Pussy was killing the old group; it was probably a good thing, given the kind of shit they'd gotten into one time or another -- but it wouldn't be for HIM if he didn't lock things down with Tenisha... He needn't have worried. No sooner did this thought pass through his mind than a hand gently closed on his left bicep and a familiar voice asked, "Draper? Can you take me home?" Tenisha knew better than to tell him that she wanted her itch scratched until they got closer to her place; the poor dear was HUGE, but he was SOOOO shy... "Sure, Baby," Draper wrapped his arm around his girlfriend's narrow waist. Yeah, the old group was gone; maybe they could rebuild it with the women in it, since they were so very important... They'd probably get the Frick kid, too... Draper couldn't really fathom THAT one, but, well, maybe he'd make a good mascot... Draper waved toward the car and the pair descended to the parking lot. ------- Nate and Nora were busy setting a pattern for their evenings. Nate was unlikely to be missed -- his Mama usually slept late and got home later, between the drugs and the hooking she did to get more, he generally only saw her at breakfast, if then; she'd be on her way to bed. Tabitha Adams was more relieved than anything else that her boy had reached the point of independence; she just wasn't the motherly type. Nate's childhood had been spent largely in the care of 'aunties' -- older women of the neighborhood who took pity on him while Tabitha pursued her lifestyle. Nate was the original latchkey kid; he'd gone from breastfeeding to 'get your own', almost without transition. Aunties usually had a slew of kids, and one more at the table off and on made little difference; nonetheless, you lost your welcome after a while, no matter what. Nate made sure he added value by helping out where invited, but he still missed a lot of meals. Now, Nate did odd jobs for a quick buck; he'd tried the more lucrative drug running, but the constant example of his mother, the obvious dangers and Draper's disapproval had put an end to it. Nate was in a quandary, here -- he wanted to be with Nora as close to daily as possible, but he had to eat -- and theoretically, he needed to be able to take her out. Moneymaking and being close to his woman were apparently mutually exclusive. Nora's Mama was acting like an auntie to him, which helped, but what her powerful Daddy would think of a sponge job was anybody's guess... When he thought about it, he was mildly surprised that his Mama was still around; most drug addicts just didn't last that long on the street -- they ODed or they made a bad bargain with someone who either filled 'em with bad shit or stuck a knife or a bullet in 'em. Tabitha was thin and stringy from malnutrition, and her tits were starting to get shrunken and baggy looking, but she apparently had the constitution of a horse and SOME sense in how much dope she poured into herself. And she could still hook -- maybe the rate was lower, but men were still desperate; that seemed to be a universal constant. As long as some women held themselves above sex and men's balls got full, hooking was an option. Nate didn't think his Mama was currently running for a pimp; she tended to avoid this, only doing it when she HAD to because some new firebrand was carving out a territory -- and she knew from experience which ones were businessmen, and which ones were just evil bastards. No, Mama was a survivor, against the odds -- but that didn't mean she was any kind of mother. That was a dead issue between them; Nate understood and forgave her, after some painful time. Mama was a doper and a slut -- but not a mother. Nate was an accident, but Tabitha had learned and had gone out and done one of the few smart things she'd EVER done -- she'd gone to a treatment center for a while, cleaned up, and wheedled her way into getting a free tubal ligation before going back to work and resuming her recreational abuse; being sober sucked too badly to be borne, in the long run, but pregnancy and kids was just too much responsibility for her to bear. Fortunately, the system was there to be beaten... Mama fucked where she could, where she had to. The crib was always a mess, so it wasn't a prime spot -- but Nate had seen Mama take more dick than a porcupine had quills there, anyway, and from a young age. Tabitha had discovered that having the boy there actually increased her safety for such home visits, and that some men actually like the idea of having the boy watch them pound her, so Nate had seen a bit -- but Mama had always had him stay around front where he couldn't see the actual union, so porn flicks had filled that part in. And Mama was well-worn everywhere, so Nora's tight clasp had been a real surprise, that first night; men had always apparently just slammed it into Mama... When Nate hit puberty, though, Tabitha had decided that the whole thing was an incitement to riot for the boy, especially after she started finding his sticky jerk-off rags (in large quantities), so she'd stopped bringing men home at all; it was soon apparent that Nate had a serious sex drive, so she instinctively avoided aggravating it at home. So Nate was a little diffident as he pulled up in front of Nora's place and trooped in; Nora's Mama, however, merely looked up from what she was doing, blinked, shrugged, and went on with her reading. Nora was somewhat surprised; close observation revealed that Mom was flushed and a little shaky. Either Daddy had delivered another of his phone calls, or... yeah, it was that -- Mom had been watching the videos and playing with herself again. Either Daddy had threatened her with something REALLY SERIOUS, or Mom was learning to enjoy masturbation... Nora hid a grin as she raided the refrigerator for Cokes. "We'll be in my room, doing homework," she announced. Sharon just looked at the pair. More than that would happen, but they were using rubbers, and Nora was OBVIOUSLY enjoying herself... Sharon felt a leftover twinge from her afternoon's activities; it was unaccustomed, and it was sympathy, not interest in Nora's young black stud, but it bothered her, nonetheless. Finally, she shrugged, nodded, and went back to pretending to read. "Will Nate be staying for supper?" she asked, without looking up. Nate flinched; Nora detected it out of the corner of her eye, so she didn't ask him, knowing instinctively that the implied charity made him uncomfortable. "Yes," she replied, turning toward the stair. "Okay," Sharon replied, in apparent distraction. Nora decided that at some point in the near future, she and Mom were going to have to talk. There were things going on that appeared to be shifting the foundation of their relationship, and she didn't know what some of them were -- but she HAD noticed a sudden increase in her control of things. Maybe it was the videos... That led to ANOTHER thought, and a plan... ------- Chapter 4B: Girl Talk and Videos Sharon had had a rough afternoon. She'd spent the morning nerving herself, then settled in, fully dressed, to watch more of the DVD, the emphasis to be on education rather than sex; it was blatantly apparent that she'd been kidding herself for some time, if the scenes she had seen had been truly representative (surely, they weren't!) Unfortunately for Sharon, they were; she watched four scenes where her memories failed to include Armand bringing her to a boil until the video dragged them forth, making denial fruitless. Worst was the fact that the mentally augmented replay was so arousing! Even blowjobs -- Armand had a habit of forcing himself down her throat at the moment of orgasm, and it didn't look pleasant on video, but Sharon REMEMBERED her pussy spasming in synch with his jets of semen, suffusing her with pleasure even as she choked. By the end of the fourth scene, she'd crossed and uncrossed her legs a hundred times, and the crotch of her culottes was soaked; her nipples burned in her brassiere, and every movement brought a feeling like the skin was being sandpapered off. By the time scene five was well underway, her hand had stopped following conscious directives, and her fingers were inside the leg band of her panties, sliding along the fringed lips of her soaking wet gash. Armand had been angry about something, and she'd been handy; he'd deliberately popped every button off her blouse, then used a penknife on her brassiere before grabbing a handful of her hair and forcing his erection down her throat. But those were merely the preliminaries; having no new 'toy' to impress, he'd withdrawn before ejaculation and thrown her gasping body over his desk, then subjected it to an unaccustomed pounding vaginal attack that brought her three screaming orgasms despite the fact that his hands made her ass cherry red in the process. Then he'd withdrawn and, using her copious vaginal secretions for lubrication, and going back there for more when it ran out, forced his cock into her screaming, burning ass to ejaculate into her colon. Sometime during this trip down memory lane, Sharon lost it, totally. When she came back to her senses, her culottes were across the room, her panties were a shredded rag draped around her waist, and her blouse and bra were both up around her neck. Her bedclothes were soaked; she'd actually ejaculated during the screaming orgasm her bunched fingers had wrung from her vagina! ... And the operative on duty for Witherspoon Confidential Investigations, LLC., was on the phone to his superior. "Mr. Wilson will want to see this, ASAP," he announced firmly. The shift manager took this seriously, and Armand was notified in his office, prompting a forty-five minute disruption in his appointments schedule. But the man was right; at the end of it, a pensive Armand picked up the phone and instructed that the operative was to receive a two hundred dollar bonus. Armand was beginning to become concerned; the videos were apparently prompting an epiphany in Sharon -- one he wasn't certain he wanted to occur. It had taken Sharon an hour to clean up the results of her masturbatory orgy -- new sheets, blankets, bedspread, then a looooong shower in the hopes that the water pouring over her weakened body could wash away the shame... The outfit had to be replaced -- the shredded panties thrown away while the rest went directly into the wash. She spent five minutes trying to decide whether to destroy the DVD, but ultimately decided that her sluttishness had nothing to do with the piece of plastic it was recorded on, and put it away. Now she was sitting at the table, trying to deal with the reality that the videos had rubbed her nose in. It was tough going, discovering that the real Sharon wasn't the controlled, morally-upright woman who periodically martyred herself to her rapacious ex-husband as an offering to continue the physical and financial well-being of herself and -- more importantly -- her daughter. No, the REAL Sharon was apparently the slut that happily gurgled around Armand's deeply inserted erection and wailed in orgasm to the feel of it pounding her ass. The REAL Sharon got that little something extra out of the humiliation of having some strange model-type watch Armand put her through her paces; the REAL Sharon could layer pain atop pleasure and reach an even more explosive orgasm thereby. For she DID orgasm regularly under Armand's rough treatment; how could it be rape if she enjoyed it so? The Sharon she was used to being thought of sex as something that could be pleasant, but wasn't necessarily so -- and had memories of multiple sex acts that apparently weren't. No, her mind had shielded her from her baser nature, erasing the memory of the pleasure that other Sharon obtained from the acts in the process. The Sharon she was used to being had had no interest in acquiring a new lover; quite aside from the embarrassing explanations (not to mention possible dangers) revealing her relationship with Armand would entail, she hadn't any memories of the whole thing being worth it. The past couple of days, however, had been a series of revelations; not only COULD she enjoy sex, she was staring the unpalatable fact that she DID enjoy sex -- rough, nasty, humiliating, painful sex -- dead in it's unwinking eye. She'd cried a little bit, mumbled to herself QUITE a bit, but mostly, she'd just sat there, dumb, while she tried to integrate recent experience in her world-view. The old Sharon had been relatively simple, if rigidly structured. Now she knew that most of the pillars that had supported and enfolded the old Sharon weren't rigid at all, but gave and flexed, and let her out of their embrace on occasion. She was struggling hard with the new Sharon; the arrival of Nora and her boyfriend was a brief, unwelcome distraction from that silent struggle. Sharon dealt with it and went back to her primary occupation. Armand Wilson knew concern as he watched his ex-wife and chief play- partner on the small monitor at his desk; he'd gone from the captured video to the live feed during Sharon's cleanup. The videos had apparently been a serious mistake; how to recover from it was the question uppermost in Armand's mind at this point. Obviously, tomorrow's session was going to have to be handled with some care... Armand didn't want Sharon mentally or emotionally damaged; her peculiar makeup, while not necessarily reality- based, had served them both well for nearly two decades, and, if possible, Armand didn't want it rattled too much. But the damage may have already been done... Armand was an instinctive psychologist with a couple of decades' worth of experience in both reading and manipulating people -- he knew that if anyone was going to preserve things as they were, it would have to be him; conventional practitioners of the art would not be concerned with the preservation of Sharon's dual nature. But there was more to it than that; the current situation, which Armand loosely defined as 'Nora growing up', had rubbed his nose in something else that conventional practitioners of the arts of mental healing were taught during their formal education and more or less forced to make allowances for: the first person that you delude is yourself -- self- analysis is fraught with pitfalls. Armand hadn't examined his motives in 'releasing' Sharon and Nora all those years ago -- and he'd done even less analysis of the reasons why he hadn't just gotten shut of the pair and forgotten them. Why DID he waste thousands of dollars a year collecting data on the trivia of their lives? Why DID he summon Sharon to his office, again and again, to use, abuse, and humiliate? Only now, when he'd basically had his nose rubbed in it by the fact that the situation was fluid and in the process of changing radically, did things begin to come clear... Instinctively, Armand had sensed the sea change dictated by Nora's advance into womanhood, and instinctively, he'd reacted. In general, things were going well, but because he'd misunderstood his own needs and goals, things were threatening to go awry where Sharon was concerned... For the next ninety minutes or so, things went along pretty much without incident; the young people concentrated on their studies while Sharon stewed in her self-discovery. But then, almost simultaneously, both groups lurched into action; as Sharon rose to begin supper preparations, Nora looked up at Nate and queried, "Done? Good! Come with me!" She hopped up and tiptoed to the door, her finger to her lips. Nate rose silently to follow, wondering what Nora was up to. When the couple crossed the hall and entered Sharon's room, he knew that, whatever it was, it was no good... Nora wasted no time in crossing to the 'toy box' and opening the lid. The contents were frankly amazing; Nora failed to throttle a titter of embarrassment as the various sex toys were revealed. With each new item, Nate's eyes got wider and wider; by the time the big black dildo surfaced, the whites could be seen all around them! Then the DVDs came out, while Nora whispered explanations: "Daddy sent this Sunday, and told Mom she should put the stuff to use... Wow! Look at this!" 'This' was the interracial video -- Nora knew instinctively that her father had included it to harass her mother. A moment's thought brought on the mental leap that her father had quite possibly teased her mother with the idea of finding HER one or more black studs -- the more Nora discovered about her Daddy, the more it made sense... "Daddy did this to upset Mom -- this isn't her kink..." Nate shrugged; he could get offended, if he wanted to work at it -- but over what? The fact that Nora was the first person in her family to develop a taste for dark meat? So what? The pair riffled through the other content, ogling the cover photos and lurid descriptions of the commercial products. "Looks like your Daddy left your Mama a broad selection," Nate observed. Nora nodded absently and reshuffled the disks into their original order, the two blank cases on bottom -- then stood there, fingering them. They were what she was here for, anyway. "What are those?" Nate asked. "If I'm right, they're movies of Mom and Daddy having sex," Nora replied. "From what Mom says, it's more like Daddy raping her -- but it's been going on forever, and..." Nate frowned and nodded. "Ain't nobody dead or in jail. Your Mama gets pretty weird when she talks about your Daddy, though. You sure you ought to be lookin' at 'em?" "Both of them kind of left the door open, at one point or another. I think Mom believes I should see Daddy at his worst before Thursday, for instance. But we'll do it quietly, anyway, in case she's changed her mind." Nora took the first disk -- the one Sharon had spent the afternoon viewing. She closed the box, and the pair tiptoed back into her room, where Nora turned on her combination TV, VCR, and DVD player and fed it the disk, then threw herself prone on the bed, facing the screen. Nate climbed up beside her and sat tailor-fashion, rubbing her back (and, yeah, her ass -- he loved that sweet, soft flesh... ). The menu came up, surprising Nora with its professionalism. More or less randomly, Nora selected the fifth scene -- which just happened to be the one that triggered Sharon's wild ride to orgasm a couple of hours before! The scene opened with Sharon passing a camera positioned before Armand's desk, and stopping before him. Armand grunted, "About time!" and turned back to the other man in the room, ignoring Sharon's sputtered assertion that she was five minutes early... "Get that moron on the phone and tell him if we got anything tainted from his cut-rate supplier, I'll have HIM ground into hamburger! Tell him he'd better go mend fences and get the distribution network back the way it was, or else!" Armand stopped for a moment, glaring. "Give him a week, then see to it that 'or else' occurs, anyway! Stupid, greedy bastard!" Armand waved, and the man nodded and left. Armand turned his attention to Sharon. "So, what ELSE is going to turn out wrong today? What's the word on Councilman Pedersen?" The camera angle shifted to a shot from behind Armand and to his right that captured Sharon's white face. It was abundantly clear that she didn't want to be in the room with Armand while he was in his current mood. Sharon blurted, "He's proving difficult to pin down -- but I think I might have something!" Armand's glare didn't require a shift in camera angle to pick up -- it was there in his voice. "Are you telling me the truth, or merely attempting to avoid my anger?" "No, no!" Sharon temporized, "I think I have something that will get him going! There is a youth hockey league..." "Fine, I don't care to hear the details, if it's going to work -- tell the accountants!" Armand stepped around the desk, where a third, side camera picked him up. "Come here!" "Armand..." "Shut up, Woman, and follow instructions! Take off your blouse!" Sharon hesitated momentarily, and it was her undoing. "Never mind!" Armand grunted, and snatched at the fabric. Buttons went everywhere. "Now get out of it!" Sharon started frantically yanking at the cuff buttons, but Armand produced a penknife. "Hold still!" The blade went underneath the fabric connecting the cups of Sharon's brassiere, and suddenly they were flopping against her sleeves. "Cuff!" Sharon laid a wrist in his hand, the knife flicked, and the button flew. "Now, the other one!" The procedure was repeated. "If you want ANY of your clothing to be intact," Armand warned, "you'll get out of that skirt, NOW!" Sharon's hands scrabbled frantically at the snap and zipper, but only the fact that she took a step back gave her the required instant; Armand's impatience was at its peak. She stepped out of the skirt, but while she bent, Armand collected a handful of hair. "Come here and kneel!" he demanded. The hand in her hair left Sharon without options; she found herself kneeling on her knees before Armand while he wrestled with his belt. He jerked her head back and glared into her eyes. "You know what to do!" Sharon did; she reached out and began fumbling with his snap and zipper. Finished with the belt, he put his hand on his hip and suffered her fumbling impatiently. Finally, she got it all and tugged his trousers and boxers to his knees. Armand pounded his intercom button and announced, "Charlene, hold my calls!" "Yes s--." The intercom was off before Charlene finished her acknowledgement. "Hands behind your back!" Armand ordered, the hand raised, a slap imminent. Sharon did as she was told. "Take it!" he demanded, ramming his cock at her lips. "Armugghhmmmph!" Opening her mouth to speak wasn't the wisest thing to do at that juncture. Armand unceremoniously filled it with meat and kept on going, dragging her head toward his crotch by the hair. Instinct and experience lowered her head and straightened her throat, and Armand drove on in. Sharon's hands came up to fend him off as she gagged, but he growled and slapped at them, and she subsided, concentrating on acceptance; it was 'way too late for anything else. He settled himself, holding her deep, then released her, only to set up a pattern of long, gagging strokes that kept Sharon fighting for breath. This went on for about ninety seconds, Armand varying his timing to suit the sensations involved and Sharon slowly losing the fight for breath until there was no struggle left in her; all of her energies went to breathing and maintaining consciousness. Armand was a pro, however; he knew where Sharon was, and he let up before he lost her to unconsciousness. Her state made her particularly pliant, however, when he snatched her to her feet and dragged her around to his side of the desk. ------- Nate wanted to let his raging hard-on out. This was hot like fuck flicks were SUPPOSED to be, but seldom managed! And the fact that he KNEW one of the participants made it even hotter! Nate's left hand was going to town on Nora's plush ass, squeezing and kneading -- but he was having a hard time finding something for his right to do that didn't involve giving his meat some relief. The half-second respite allowed Nora to glance at her lover, and she recognized the symptoms. Thus far, things had been pretty brutal for her mother, and she'd been able to maintain SOME objectivity -- but, yes, the action was hot, anyway. Daddy was sure demanding! And Mom was apparently a practiced cocksucker; Nora's efforts thus far hadn't been as advanced as deep throat... No, Mom wasn't as virginal as she let on... The view shifted; her father secured her mother's ankles with some straps that appeared to be attached to his desk, then rose. Sharon was wearing stockings and garters and a no-nonsense pair of pink cotton panties -- and at this point, that was it; she'd apparently lost her shoes early on. Armand made a quick, snatching grab, and the crotch of the panties was destroyed; another took out the side, and he tossed the ruin aside. With the camera angle being what it was, off-side from behind the desk, Sharon's plush ass, pudenda, and upper thighs were revealed in all their glory -- then Armand's cock appeared and nosed between her labia. Armand took just two hammering strokes to bury himself to the root; Sharon was wet already. He set up a serious, pounding stroke, then added a pattern of alternating swats on her ass. Sharon got her hands under her and rose up, emitting a startled "Oh!" at every swat. The camera followed the strokes and captured the reddening of the soft, white cheeks; Nate, watching, was fascinated by the shudder of the flesh on impact. After about thirty seconds, the camera angle shifted to the side view camera to chronicle Sharon rocking to Armand's strokes -- but moments later, Sharon's voice changed, and the front view replaced the side view as Sharon dropped her torso lower above the desktop in order to raise her ass, then started surging and thrashing. Sharon's face was red, but it was arousal; Nora watched her mother's eyes roll up as the shudders accompanying her orgasm hit. Nate was going insane! If he didn't do something soon... But Nora was right there with him, husking, "Nate, Honey, get a rubber!" while she started tearing herself out of her jeans. Nate's hand was in the bag, closing on a foil packet, almost before the whole sentence got out; when Nora got her zipper undone, big hands grabbed chunks of the waistband of her jeans, lifting her from the bed while Nate peeled her. Nora paused the DVD; she didn't want to miss anything while she and Nate wrestled with clothing and rubbers. There was no question about position; Nora knelt up and Nate drove into her in a fair approximation of Armand and Sharon's positions, given the bed. Nate was still wearing his shirt, and Nora her top when they took off; after resuming the video Nora worked through the assault on her senses to get her bra off, but the rush of sensations caused her to abandon the job, half-done. The couple's first orgasm and Sharon's second came virtually simultaneously; Nora again paused the video so they could enjoy the aftermath and deal with removing the rubber. Nate was still rock solid; Nora sighed, "Thank God!" and went digging for yet another rubber -- at this rate, she'd have to go back to the doctor for more, or buy some... But neither of them was happy until Nate was again in the saddle, pumping. Nora resumed the video, which cycled through the three viewpoints every few seconds. Both watched, hypnotized, as they augmented the action on the screen with the sensations of their own lovemaking. The view cycled to the over-the shoulder shot yet again, and Nate watched Armand apply his hand to Sharon's plush ass. The sight was mesmerizing; it made his palms itch. As it was, he was squeezing handfuls of Nora's equally plush bottom, enjoying the sensation, while he watched Sharon's flesh shudder and re-shape itself on impact. The view rotated away to the side view, where the spanking wasn't as evident as the results of Armand's hips plowing into Sharon from behind; her flesh seemed to roll up and then settle back into position, again and again. Again the rotation, to the frontal view; Sharon's flush was getting darker, and she was beginning to hunch, the tips of her nipples touching the desktop. Undoubtedly, another orgasm was coming... Sure enough, Sharon's face filled and the cords stood out on her neck and she emitted an impassioned "UUUuuuuuuuhhhhh!!!", shaking and sucking in air afterwards as if she'd been suffocated. Then it happened; the switch back to the over-the-shoulder shot was something Nate dealt with for a moment, but then his hand rose and fell, seeming of its own volition, in synchronization with Armand's. The feel of Nora's flesh giving way before the strike was sooo... satisfying... Nora turned to stare at him a moment, wide-eyed, but before he could recover and stammer out an apology, she said, "G-go on -- but easy, okay?" Nate nodded dumbly and began delivering one gentler smack for every three of Armand's harsher hits on screen. Nora tightened her vaginal muscles with each swat, something both of them noticed -- but only Nora noticed that the smacks, which under normal circumstances would have been at least mildly unpleasant, seemed to add to her arousal. On screen, Sharon was winding up rapidly for her third climax; whatever else Armand was doing to her, satisfaction seemed to be big at this point. Sharon hunkered down against the desktop and began making a series of groaning grunts as she pushed herself back toward Armand's invading cock. This all basically ended with an impassioned, "UUUuuuuhhhh!!!!", after which Sharon basically collapsed on the desktop. But Armand wasn't done; his orgasm had yet to arrive, and Sharon's slack position invited a wakeup call... The view switched again to the over-the shoulder focus as Armand withdrew his cock from Sharon's dripping vagina and repositioned it at her anus, immediately boring in. Sharon went rigid under the assault, emitting a loud wail as the sudden assault on her sphincter pierced her defenses. Armand managed to force the head of his penis through the opening, but ran out of lubrication, so he withdrew and again socketed himself in Sharon's vagina, taking a couple of strokes. Sharon's sigh of relief was premature, however, and ended with a screech as Armand again switched targets and renewed his attack on her ass. This time, he got in better than halfway, and, satisfied, began pumping, torturing Sharon's rectum, passing more lubricant by the simple expedient of sliding two fingers into Sharon's dripping snatch and wiping them on the exposed shaft of his cock. The scene again shifted, this time to the frontal view; Sharon's contorted expression could be seen as she dealt with the invasion. The view lingered a bit, however -- long enough to reveal a change in expression as Sharon's ass accommodated itself to Armand's pounding attack. At that point, Sharon again relaxed, and began to present her rectum for further abuse, moaning. Nora took a moment to turn and engage Nate's eyes. "Not tonight! Not with a rubber on!" she admonished, "You'd rip me to shreds!" But she returned her attention to the screen, where Mom was obviously getting into anal sex. Nate had a flash, though, and moved forward with it almost without thought. He popped his thumb into his mouth to wet it, then lowered his hand to Nora's ass cheek. "How's this?" he asked as he circled the crinkled bud of her anus once, then applied just enough pressure to pop it open, but not burst through... "Aaahhh! OOOOHHH, GAWWD!" Nora came apart; the orgasm that had been slowly sneaking up on her used the additional insertion as cover for a rush, and it hit her like a ton of bricks! Nate had been gentle enough that there had been no pain component, only a new site for wild sensations. Nora whited out; both of her nether orifices began to pulse simultaneously. Nate's thumb dropped into her anus to the first knuckle between two attempts by her pussy to wring his cock dry -- and THAT brought on success, as Nate, too, succumbed and began filling another rubber with seed. Even Nora didn't hear Nate's soft grunt of completion, but Sharon heard Nora's; she'd been lost in thought and hadn't registered the thumps that Nora's bedpost continued to make. Sighing, she mumbled "Chip off the old block..." to herself as she turned the chicken breasts on the broiler. The young couple watched Armand deliver yet another orgasm to Sharon while collecting his as a flat sandwich, Nora collapsed flat on the bed with Nate atop her. Armand wasn't loud while cumming, either -- if you didn't see his grimace and the cords of his neck protruding as he crushed himself against Sharon's ass, you'd never know. Sharon apparently did, though -- she seemed to be riding the pulsations of his buried cock, gasping and straining through her orgasm. Armand's aftercare wasn't anything to write home about. He stepped back and unhooked Sharon's ankles from the straps, then smacked her on the ass. "Go on, get out of here -- at least you're good for something... Tell the accountants where to allocate the money to please that moron Pedersen." Sharon started shuffling, but she wasn't all there yet; Armand hauled her back from the desk by her wide hips, where she abruptly collapsed on her ass behind the desk. Armand eyed her for a moment, then opened a drawer and tossed her a couple of wet wipes. "Since you're still here, clean me up!" Sharon gingerly collected the wipes and made to wipe at his crotch, but he grabbed her by the hair and pushed his smelly, but not actively shitty, cock into her mouth, growling, "No, like this! Those are for you, you silly bitch!" "Ewwww!" Nora's face matched Sharon's on-screen expression (aside from the inserted cock) as she looked over her shoulder at her lover. "You're NEVER gonna do THAT, so don't EVEN THINK about it!" Nate chuckled. "What about now? All it's got on it right now is cum, an' some o' your juice!" "Yeah, that's okay," Nora grinned back. Moments later the video ended as it depicted Sharon staggering out, her skirt on but awry, clutching the shredded remnants of her blouse and brassiere. Armand, in the background, was nonchalantly buttoning his pants... "Sheeit!" Nate opined, "That was pretty fuckin' wild!" "Ummm," Nora agreed, "You were a baaaaad boy!" Nate grinned, unrepentant. "Worked, didn't it?" "Yeah..." Nora drifted off to the implications of what she'd seen; obviously, Mom and Daddy had a long-established pattern for interaction, and Mom benefited, at least occasionally, from it. "Let's look at another one," she suggested. "Awright." Nate levered himself up and backed off Nora. "Guess I oughta clean up, first." "Bring it here." Nate came around to the foot of the bed, and Nora rose onto her elbows and engulfed his still rubber-clad cock. Once the outside wasn't gooey any more, she gently pulled it off and sucked down the contents, then laved the remnants off his cock. Nate was in Heaven; this was a jerk-off fantasy come true, and there was NO WAY he was gonna fuck it up! Given what her Mama seemed to enjoy, though, there was a lot of shit he could plan on doing... Finished, he crawled up next to Nora while she selected another short video sequence. This one was more of what Nora had expected to see; Armand made demands, and Sharon resisted for a time, then capitulated, fractionally. That was all it took. Once she was within reach, things became rapidly physical, with Armand obviously controlling Sharon through pain (crushing a breast with one hand) while he stripped her upper body and produced a pair of leather binders with which he secured her wrists behind her. Then he knelt her and throat-raped her, basically after the previously-seen pattern. This time, however, was different for two reasons: First, he didn't switch to her vagina or her ass; he continued gagging her until he poured his seed down her throat. And second, because a couple of minutes in, he used his intercom to call for a statuesque blonde named Beverly, to whom his occupation when she enter the room was a complete surprise, by her expression. "Ah, Beverly," Armand intoned, "I thought an object lesson was in order." Beverly stood there, staring silently as Armand used this somewhat chunky woman before her. "I very seldom let go of anything that I think might provide me with future utility," Armand amplified. "This, for instance, is my ex-wife. I know a LOT of men who would enjoy treating their ex this way..." He eyed Beverly for a moment, and continued, "There are obvious conclusions to be drawn. I can be very demanding..." He waved for her to approach. "Here, why don't you observe this more closely..." Beverly approached gingerly, staying out of arm's reach of Armand. Sharon whimpered around Armand's driving cock and rolled her eyes toward the woman who was the latest witness to her humiliation. In a moment, Armand announced quietly, "I'm about there..." and crushed Sharon's head to him, burying his cock deep. The woman, Beverly, could be seen watching Sharon's throat work with wide eyes by the over-the-shoulder cam. After a moment, Armand backed off, but not fully; the frontal cam showed Sharon cradling Armand's cock on her tongue while she sucked air through her nose. A zoom- in showed Armand still pulsing out cum onto her tongue, and Sharon gently coaxing more by sliding her tongue along the underside, teasing sensitive nerves. Armand leaned forward, and Sharon engulfed him again, obviously cleaning up. "Well-trained, isn't she? And we've been divorced for over a decade..." "A-Armand, I think I should leave," Beverly stuttered. "Perhaps." Armand waved dismissively. "If you think you're in too deep, have Jorge take you to the house and collect your things, then take you to wherever your departure point might be. If you are there upon my return this evening, however, I will begin YOUR training, as you will have consented to it by being there." He then turned from the woman, patently ignoring her, and addressed himself to Sharon. "I'm still wet," he complained, and began running his still half-erect cock through her hair. The side-view camera took a shot between Armand's legs at Sharon's as she knelt there, zooming in, then the over-the shoulder view depicted Beverly leaving before the fade. "Why did they do that?" Nora wondered aloud. "What?" Nate asked. "That zoom-in shot just before the end. Mom didn't have a dildo, or anything." Nate took the controller, and backed the scene up those few seconds. "Uh, Baby, the floor's wet. An' I don't think your Mama peed..." Nora looked closely. It was a bit embarrassing eyeballing her mother's pussy, even on video. "Umm, yeah. She looks... drippy. She enjoyed it?" "Your Daddy's hard on her," Nate observed. "I think she'd go crazy if she couldn't find a way to deal with it..." "Maybe," Nora agreed cautiously. "We'd better put it back." She rose and collected the DVD from the player, returned it to its case, and took it back to her mother's room, still nude below the waist. Nate followed her through the procedure, for no better reason than to watch the way her ass swayed and jiggled; Gawd, he loved that thing! He followed her back and was just settling on the bed when Sharon announced, "Dinner!" from the foot of the stairs. ------- Chapter 5: Deep Throat Training At the mansion on the other end of town, Bianca was at the table in the sitting room of the quarters she shared with her parents, her math homework before her -- but her mind had slipped it's leash for a moment, and was drifting... Suddenly, the intercom activated: "Bianca, are you done with your homework? The Wench has been waiting for some time, and she has things to do..." "Uhhh, no sir -- but I'm close!" Who was that? Not Mister Armand or Mister Jason... "How close?" Bianca quickly surveyed the five problems she had remaining. "Ummm, ten minutes?" "All right, child. Meet us in fifteen minutes on the back steps with an empty bucket, and one with soapy water, a sponge, and some towels. Understood?" "Yes, sir," Bianca replied dutifully. "I'll have Consuelo gather things in the kitchen." The intercom clicked off. Bianca went furiously to work, immediately. Even if Consuelo helped, she wouldn't have much time... Six minutes later, she passed her mother on her way out the door. "Got to go help the Wench!" she cried, dashing past a surprised Inez. Inez turned to follow, and ended up supervising the preparations, then followed her daughter outside, wondering what was up; the Wench's job description didn't REALLY include mops and buckets -- after all, she was a puta -- a whore -- not the maid! Things began to clear on the back steps. In the first place, the owner of the voice on the intercom was revealed; Mister Charles stood there, smiling gently as Bianca sloshed up. The Wench knelt on the board floor, regarding Bianca serenely. "Good evening Bianca. How was school?" Her eyes flicked to Inez and she gave a short nod of greeting that Inez returned. Inez hung back, parking herself against the wall just outside the door. Also present were the four 'yard boys': Boris, the Gardener (now, since Charles' elevation to Overseer, the Groundskeeper), his two assistants Pete and Phillippe, and Ed the Carpenter. Charles looked up and frowned, "Is Jorge around?" "No, Sir." Phillippe was the backup chauffer and shotgun for low- security jobs; thus he knew he was on call. "He's out with Velma, doing a grocery run." Velma was the Cook. "We're not taking deliveries?" Charles asked, surprised. Phillippe shrugged. "Velma likes to see her ingredients." Charles nodded; it was a good answer. "All right, then we'll get on with it. The Wench, here, lost control of her throat momentarily yesterday, and vomited up Mr. Wilson's semen. All in all, she did a fine job; she just had this unfortunate mishap, after. I've invited the four of you here to assist with a little remedial training. The Wench will give each of you a blowjob; your job is to shoot down her throat, and hers is to hold it down." Boris frowned and rubbed his thick lips, nodding toward Bianca and Inez. "What about them?" "Bianca is here to clean up any accidents the Wench has; it seems her father made himself unavailable, so Mr. Wilson volunteered her to take up the slack." Several of the yard boys exchanged a glance; that Jason wanted Raoul's head was generally known, but if he'd stepped in it with Mr. Wilson, himself... Charles continued, unperturbed, "Inez is here... Why ARE you here, Inez?" It was tantamount to a dismissal, but Inez held her ground. "I needed to be sure Bianca could fill in properly." Charles eyed Inez for a moment, then assured her, "Bianca's duties will be purely janitorial." Inez nodded warily, and backed out of the area. Charles turned his attention to the yard boys. "Anyone need to back out? Mr. Wilson uses the Wench regularly, as do I, now. Even Jason finds a periodic use for her. If anyone isn't absolutely certain that he's clean, he should bow out -- If you give Mr. Wilson something, I guarantee you that getting fired will be the least of what happens to you..." Pete raised his hand. Pete was young -- early twenties -- tall, tanned, dark wavy hair... "I've got a girlfriend..." Charles raised an eyebrow. "She sleeps around?" Pete frowned. "She better not..." Phillippe chuckled. "Can I get her number?" Charles waved them to silence before Pete could get angry. "If you're not SURE, or if you want to be true to your girl, you're excused. If you want tested, come see me and I'll arrange it, no questions and no stigma attached. Sex happens in this household; you all know that. We want everyone to be safe." Charles eyed Pete. "I can get her tested, too, if you like." Pete eyed Phillippe. "She's been good since we've been together, but she likes her dick. Of course, you have to HAVE one..." Against a background of grunted laughter from the others, Charles became businesslike. "Sounds like an invitation to get started. Phillippe?" Phillippe stepped forward, but hesitated when Boris grumbled, "Young girls..." "Young girls have to learn about sex, too, Boris," Charles returned, evenly. "Mr. Wilson thinks Bianca is up to watching the Wench at work." He turned to Bianca, "What do YOU think?" "I'll be okay." Bianca was perversely proud that Mister Armand felt she was old enough to handle this; she wasn't going anywhere. "I'll be just watching, mostly. You'll be having sex with the Wench, not me..." "Whassamatter? Bianca turn ya off?" Ed teased. "Shit, I'd like to see MORE of her..." He ogled Bianca's sweetly rounded figure. Charles cut it off. "Well, you won't, unless you can convince her to offer it up freely -- and even then, you'd better wait several years! If Mr. Wilson finds out you've messed with her, he'll have your ass! This is an exceptional situation; Bianca is not an employee here and is therefore sacrosanct..." "... Like her mama?" Phillippe quipped, eyes dancing. Did Bianca know? Bianca looked almost amused. "If Mama keeps Mister Jason off YOU, you should be grateful!" Turning to Ed, she announced, mock-politely, "I'll just watch, thank you." "Let's get on with it," Charles admonished. "Pete, you sitting this one out?" "I... dunno." Both men were watching Phillippe open his belt and unzip his pants, as did the Wench, with even more interest. "Wench," Charles directed, "no hands. Keep 'em on your thighs, or put 'em behind you if the temptation gets to be too much. Understand?" "Yes, Sir." The Wench looked up from where Phillippe was beginning to lower his trousers, then back in time to get her first glimpse of the training instrument. Phillippe's cock was a fairly average: uncut, a bit over six inches, and moderately thick. He stepped up close, "Let's see what you've got..." Wench leaned forward, opened her lips and pulled in the tip. Phillippe shuffled forward to get comfortable as more and more of his meat disappeared between her lips. "All right," Charles directed as the two settled in. "Phillippe, she's a vessel. If what she does on her own isn't good enough, feel free to direct her. The purpose of the exercise is to get her to take it deep and swallow your cum. But I think you'll agree that there's no need to get too rough." Phillippe's "Guess not," was strained; as far as HE was concerned the Wench was doing a FINE job! This had to be the best he'd ever had, and the Wench was beautiful, to boot! He was gonna want some of this pussy... Maybe some ass! At this point, already, the combination of reality and his imagination had Phillippe at a point where orgasm was imminent; it had been a while since he'd had anything decent, being a bachelor -- not long, a few days, but long enough to be hair-trigger. He glanced up at Charles, "Can I hold her off a bit?" Charles rubbed his jaw while he thought about it. "Purpose of the exercise is to give her practice swallowing cum. Why don't you just let go and plan on seconds?" Eyebrows went up all around the group, and Phillippe's imagination went wild, putting an end to the issue. Instinctively, he palmed the back of the Wench's head and drove himself deep, releasing a flood of ejaculate right at the opening of her throat. Up until this moment, the Wench had been more or less in control, despite her subservient position; she'd been doing a good job and Phillippe had allowed her to deal with his erection without direction. The impalement took her more or less by surprise, and she immediately began to gag and choke. Instinctively, her arms came up, but she held off, merely waving them futilely. Charles glanced up at Bianca, and directed, "Bianca! Bring the empty bucket around, in case she needs it!" Bianca had been standing off to the side watching the proceedings with eyes that all but bulged. She shook herself and stepped up, placing the empty bucket to the Wench's left, then remained there, close enough that the Wench's left hand closed on a handful of her Catholic School uniform skirt. Phillippe was holding the Wench deep while he stood there head back, hips surging to the pulsations that Bianca could see going through the base of his cock, his testicles drawing up and dropping rhythmically as he came. In a moment, he relaxed visibly and let up on the Wench, who was red-faced, gurgling and working hard to breathe. It was a near thing. Phillippe pulled back and the Wench coughed and sputtered, but somehow managed to continue to hold Phillippe's glans in her mouth, cradling it while her belly churned, the contractions visible for all to see due to her nudity. In a moment, though, she began to breathe more easily and she let go of Bianca's skirt, smoothing the crumpled area distractedly while she cleaned leftover spit and semen from Phillippe's shaft. The Wench then smiled up at Phillippe, "Thank you!" This pretty much blew Phillippe's mind; he'd used her and abused her probably worse than he'd ever done to a woman, more or less cruelly surrendering to his pleasure at the cost of her comfort, and the Wench not only delivered in spades, but said 'Thank you!' He shook his head. "You're thanking me? I can't really understand why you put up with that!" The Wench shrugged, a Mona Lisa smile on her face. "My Master wishes that I be proficient in this. You have helped me. It was important that I be challenged, and you did so." Pete was all over this. "Wasn't too lengthy a challenge, though, was it?" he teased. "Man, that was -- what -- twenty seconds?" Phillippe reddened under the harassment, but didn't get excited. "Talk big after you've had it!" he challenged. "The woman's mouth is a furnace!" The Wench was pleased with the accolade. Phillippe's cock had been okay; it hadn't tasted too sweaty or nasty despite having a foreskin, and although he'd surprised her with it, his cum hadn't tasted any too awful. And she'd gotten a bit of a charge out of it -- she was wet from the experience. In some ways, her new career was a lot more rewarding than her old one... Bianca hadn't moved from her close-up position. She stood there, mute absorbing the experience, aware that this was NOT normal AT ALL, yet no one was complaining... Her hands itched to touch Phillippe's slowly shrinking appendage; she'd seen Mister Jason's, fleetingly, on a couple of occasions, but it was always under poor conditions -- at a distance, in poor light, bad angle... Here, she was in touching distance of a seriously intimate act, and it was overpowering! She could even smell... What? The more acrid odor with the smooth overtones was probably semen, and the somewhat more fishy one... Bianca's eyes widened. Despite being orally raped, basically, the Wench was aroused! The Wench wasn't the only one. All of the males were -- even Phillippe, as he slowly staggered back, continued to have a hard-on, although it was subsiding somewhat. And Bianca was flushed, her fat nipples poking visibly through the smooth drape of her white school blouse. Charles, standing there, reflected that Bianca was a cliché -- the 'Horny Catholic Schoolgirl'. The though brought a grin. The little Chicana was obviously fully developed, despite her youth -- Charles wondered just how long it would be now before some male sampled those pleasures... Ed moved forward, dragging at his belt. "Well, Pete talks shit, but he's got issues. I ain't. You ready to go again, Sweet Thang?" Before the Wench had even finished her smiling nod, Ed unlimbered a stringy-looking member, whipcord lean, but covered by ropy veins. He was circumcised, and the head was smaller than Phillippe's member, but it was a good half-inch longer, too. The issue became rapidly apparent; while Phillippe had knocked on the door to the Wench's throat, Ed's length demanded entry. Bianca watched the Wench work to take it, lowering her head to give Ed a straight shot, veins bulging in her neck. The Wench tried, hard. She took Ed for five strokes, but he was going for depth. The Wench lost it and her hands came up, scrabbling at his hips. Charles yelled, "Bucket!" and Bianca danced back as the Wench heaved and vomited. Ed had the good sense to be contrite. "Sorry, Baby!" The Wench waved it off, still trying to get control. Charles gestured at Bianca, who snatched up the towel and handed it to her. Charles murmured, "This is what she's here for." Everyone paused for a moment, while the Wench got control over her heaving stomach. After a bit, Charles asked, "Ready?" The Wench composed herself and nodded. Charles turned to Bianca. "Hold her arms behind her." Then he nodded at Ed, "Again." The Wench obediently clasped her hands behind her and Bianca stepped up behind and gingerly grasped her arms just below the elbows. "Awright." Ed's enthusiasm had largely departed; making women puke wasn't high on his list of fun things to do, despite the power inherent in the act. He shuffled up and presented his stringy meat, and the Wench, without any obvious sign of displeasure, proceeded to engulf it. Ed didn't go for depth immediately; instead, he let the Wench get her bearings. It wasn't as if he had to stick his dick in her neck to enjoy it -- she was a damn fine cocksucker without it. She gave him no time to get impatient, either, gamely going for depth after only a few seconds of gentler effort. At first, her shoulders hunched and her stomach muscles stiffened with every stroke, but she kept at it; Ed saw no reason to prompt her. The Wench settled in, building a somewhat complex rhythm that mixed soft, tip-laving action with deep penetrations through the opening of her throat; the sensations were incredible and varied widely, keeping him from becoming numb to a particular pattern. Ed cupped the back of her head in his hand, but further urging wasn't required; she was doing a helluva job and Ed was in Heaven -- mebbe he oughta offer to marry her or something? In the meantime, the Wench had found control. In a minute or so, she went from gagging at every stroke to every other stroke, to one stroke in three... She privately doubted that things were going to get any better, but they were working, sooo... Ed was a little sweaty, but he was generally clean, if slightly musky. The musk actually helped; the Wench was getting wet again, starting to seriously enjoy teasing Ed's cock. If Bianca's previous seat had been ringside, this had to be even closer! She had to bend over to hold the Wench's arms, and was getting the show right over her right shoulder. While Ed had been brutal on the first pass, she could tell that he was simply allowing the Wench to do her work this time, and the quiet sounds, the hissing breaths, and the series of withdrawn expressions that flickered across his face as he hovered above her were testimony to the effectiveness of the Wench's efforts. Bianca knew that Ed was going to cum probably before even either Ed or the Wench; his cock stiffened visibly, the ropy veins on its surface pulsing. Ed instinctively took charge as the urge to bury his cock in the Wench's depths to shoot took precedence over his reticence and he grunted, "Jeeez!" as he clutched her head to him. The Wench held on, working to get air past the obstruction by breathing through her nose. Her throat worked as it tried to deal with the intruder lodged there, which only transmitted more sensation to Ed's pulsing cock. Bianca clamped down, but the Wench seemed intent on merely hunkering down and straightening Ed's shot at her bulging throat. Sense returned to Ed fairly quickly, and he backed off after the first three pulses, delivering follow-ons into the Wench's mouth while she suckled the head. Once he'd backed out, the Wench resumed full control rapidly, and proceeded to work to ensure that the aftermath was good for Ed. In a moment, Ed staggered back and began to tuck a thoroughly clean if slightly saliva-slick cock into his pants. "That was mighty fine, Baby, mighty fine. Thank ya." The Wench swallowed to clear sticky stuff from her throat and pushed out, "You're welcome, Sir." Charles picked up Bianca with his eyes. "Run and get the Wench some ice water." Bianca was gone in a flash -- obviously, the Wench had MORE than earned it. Besides, if she hurried, she could at least take a swipe at the incredible itch between her legs... The first exhibition had been amazing, but she'd participated in a small way to the Wench's captivity during the second and she was on fire! Racing around the kitchen, she got a glass and ice, then took the opportunity that presented itself to grind her burning clit unobtrusively against the handle of the sink cabinet while filling the glass with water. The respite was momentary, but it would have to do -- how on Earth was she going to survive two more of these? Then, as she was returning, she got close enough to hear conversation while still inside and stopped when she heard her name come up in the male banter on the porch. "Having Little Bianca here is all right, after all, I guess," Boris observed. "Watching her face while she observes the Wench at work -- very entertaining!" He chuckled, and other voices added to it. "Such big eyes," Pete commented. "Huge!" Phillippe agreed. "Yeah, well, wait'll you get a look down the neck of that blouse!" Ed chuckled. "Man, those are some sweet titties! Bianca may be fourteen, but she's all woman, and when she bends over to hold the Wench's arms... Man! She got excited and those things started rising an' falling -- It's a wonder I didn't leave a quart in the Wench!" "You mean you didn't, Sir?" the Wench quipped, to general laughter. "Well, remember she's not here to fuck," Charles admonished. "Her Daddy might be a dickhead, but her Mama is a sweet woman. Obviously, Bianca knows that Jason is doing her Mama regularly; you guys ought to know that she's right -- Jason gets his sex wherever he wants it, but when he gets it from her, somebody else misses catching the shit end of the stick, usually. You didn't hear it from me, but I think Jason's sweet on her, if that's possible. Mr. Wilson is undoubtedly furthering Bianca's education deliberately, but she's a sharp girl who knows what sex is, so don't go getting ideas about tricking her into something and tapping her; for one thing, if I hear about it, I'll take your balls off, myself!" "What if she takes a shine to one of us on her own?" Ed wondered. "In THAT unlikely event," Charles returned, "I'd recommend that you discuss it with her Mama and maybe her Daddy first! Raoul may be an asshole, but he's pretty good with that toad-sticker of his, and he'd come for you -- that's for sure!" All this was somewhat of a revelation for Bianca, on several levels! The fact that these older men found her to be interesting, even while getting admittedly incredible blowjobs from the Wench, was pretty amazing to her -- guys her age bothered her all the time, but they were just pests, as a rule; the couple of guys that she knew of who were actually screwing girls in her school were noisy jackals with whom she would not possibly associate, and the rest were still children. Boys in the old country seemed to grow up a lot faster... The fact that Mr. Charles knew of and apparently shared her opinion of the implications of her mother's relationship with Mister Jason said a lot, too -- and the fact that Mister Charles thought that Mister Jason's repeated attacks on her mother constituted a relationship, just as she did, was a pleasant surprise. Bianca schooled her expression and rounded the corner. Things got quiet while everybody worked to come up with a new subject. The Wench merely knelt, smiling, while the men flicked glances at Bianca and tried to decide what to talk about next. Charles took notice of the Wench's condition while she consumed the water, directing Bianca, "Why don't you see if you can clean up the excess, there?" 'The excess' was the flood of excess spit that had flowed down the Wench's neck and dripped onto her chest during her recent efforts. Her breasts were soaked; Ed's regular opening of her throat and the resulting gagging had turned on the saliva machine, full blast. Bianca caught up the towel and dabbed at the mess, then used a damp rag to wipe up the sticky stuff and the towel to dry it when a simple wipe didn't seem to be enough. "I'm going for more towels," she announced, and took off again. Phillippe took this opportunity to ask a question: "Hey, Boss, is this a one-off? Or, uh, is there gonna be, like, another opportunity to, uhhh..." Phillippe didn't quite seem ready to put what he was thinking into words, but everyone got the gist, including the Wench, who regarded him with a slight smile. "Well, first thing's first," Charles replied. "I'm not your boss any more," he announced, nodding at Boris, "He is. You guys might want to sort out who moves up. But I warn you -- if you don't do things to Mr. Wilson's satisfaction, it'll be short-lived, so pay attention to Boris, whichever of you moves up." That said, he rubbed his chin. "The Wench is the Boss' slave, and as such, she operates technically below any of the hired servants. On the other hand, she's a specialist -- don't expect to see her making like a maid unless there is nothing else to do. The Wench has certain natural gifts, but she needs to be kept in tune; I've been authorized to use you boys to further her education and keep her at her peak. So I figure that yeah, you'll get some more of her -- but there are rules! First, you get my permission; no chasing her down to collect a piece without permission! Likely she'll provide it, but when I find out, there'll be a shit-storm -- and I KNOW you don't want to discuss it with Jason! The Wench's primary purpose is to service Mr. Wilson's guests; secondary to that, she's around to take his edge off when he's not entertaining some other piece. Mr. Wilson wants her to be fine-tuned and capable of doing shit that a regular woman would scream bloody murder and try to get you arrested for -- and that means she needs to do strange shit on a regular basis. So I say when and I say how, just like today. Last but not least, don't get all hung up on her -- she belongs to Mr. Wilson and that's that. You fuck around and get stupid romantic ideas, and trouble will ensue -- bad trouble! Are we clear?" "One question," Pete replied, but he was looking at the Wench. "What do YOU think of all this?" The Wench blinked, and scratched her thigh absently for a moment, formulating her answer, then replied, "It's immaterial what I think -- my Master has provided instructions and given Sir, here, the authority to interpret them. I'm a slave -- I volunteered, but when I did, I gave up the right to run my own life. I do what I'm told. But I'm NOT unhappy with my lot, and no one here should feel that they've harmed me. In fact, challenging as this is, I'm having fun!" She smiled engagingly. It was true, too! The Wench had come in the door of Armand's mansion just like a host of other women, but his usual techniques for breaking his victim's will had been subjected to a type of metaphysical jiu- jitsu where the Wench was concerned. His demands resonated against a hunger that she had buried inside her, an urge to serve and ignore the cost. The more Armand demanded, the more she gave, without let or quibble. Armand considered her a broken thing, and assumed responsibility for her because, in his eyes, he'd done her irreparable damage, but the Wench merely felt free; Armand was her Master, and she would do whatever he wished of her and accept the crumbs of his mild approval. Armand had already determined that pushing the woman to extremity was an exercise in futility; she would accept whatever fate he offered her. Armand had told her that it was her lot to service his guests, and that she should be prepared to service extreme sexual acts; practicing a little fellatio on the porch, no matter how challenging, was a minor thing. In fact, her actual treatment in this house had improved since she'd been named slave, officially; acknowledgment of her status as one whose will was irrelevant basically put a stop to atrocities designed to break it. The Wench had always enjoyed sex; now she could feel free to enjoy any act, even bizarre ones. Sure, she suffered pain on occasion, but Master had shown her that pain was merely another type of sensation, to be used to multiply pleasure... Boris grunted. "Well, since Pete is sitting on the -- wall? Fence? Yes, fence. Okay. Since Pete is sitting on the fence, it is my turn, no?" The Wench flick a quick confirmation glance at Charles and agreed, "Yes, Sir." Boris ambled up and loosened his dungarees. He wore no underwear, having been heard to declaim loudly on occasion that they 'bound him'; the Wench found herself presented with a thick, meaty, uncut joint extending over a set of big, heavy-looking balls. Bianca returned at about this time, and Charles nodded that she was to resume her position behind the Wench, holding her arms. The Wench shoved her dark auburn hair back over her shoulders and assumed the position, holding her arms back for Bianca to take, then bent and took Boris' cock onto her tongue. Boris wasn't at full extension, but soon got there; nonetheless, his foreskin didn't really clear his glans. Boris had a thick, meaty shaft with a big cap of a glans; he topped out at just under six inches, but his girth had the same effect upon the Wench as Ed's length had -- it would have never passed her throat, and when it reached the back, it triggered her gag reflex. It was also somewhat gamy, to start -- since his foreskin didn't fully retract naturally, Boris collected things there. The Wench set about methodically cleaning him with her tongue, pushing it into this crease and extracting the foul-tasting goop, on the theory that he'd be easier to take deeply if she didn't have to deal with the taste of it; Master had trained her to worse, anyway, she thought to herself. It was true, for what it was worth; besides, Boris was REALLY sensitive in there -- her efforts triggered a little dance from him as she overloaded his nerves. Boris wasn't used to this, anyway. True, he was his family's success story, the one who left his native Georgia (the one in what used to be in the USSR) to come to America. This, however, did not necessarily translate to success with women... He, like many of his countrymen, had taken to driving a cab in the City, sending money home to his parents and younger brother Leopold -- until the night some desperate junkie had tried to rob him at knifepoint. Years of taking care of himself while dealing with the vicious and the desperate during periods of civil unrest had lent him proficiency with both guns and edged weapons; he'd had no compunction about gutting the junkie with his own knife. It was clearly self-defense, but Americans were curiously soft for being so rapaciously rich; Boris had lost his cab, and nearly lost his green card, over the incident. A conversation started during an evening of angry drinking led to a couple of cautious interviews while various people sounded him out, but Boris believed in reality, not what some fool penned in a law book; you gave your loyalty to a man of power, and if he took care of you, you never looked back; an interview with Mr. Wilson had told Boris all he needed to know. The obvious option was to offer Boris a job as chauffer, but Armand had had one -- besides, Boris let it be known that driving wasn't a favored occupation -- the hours sucked and Boris liked outdoor work. So Armand fired his landscaping contractor and put Boris to work on the grounds, which pleased them both. Boris drove or rode shotgun on the odd occasion when the situation required it, and generally did whatever Armand required of him, including breaking heads where necessary, without much regard for the fine points of the law. This had all begun eight years before; Boris was forty-four, and he didn't get out much -- there wasn't much point in it. Boris got sex on the odd occasion when Mr. Wilson brought in a local slut to pass around; otherwise, he hung around 'the dacha', as he thought of the Wilson mansion, drank a little vodka, and made do with porn flicks or whatever. Having the Wench wrap her mouth around his cock was virtually unprecedented; he knew right away that his time there would be short. But then the little Mexican girl had locked eyes with him, rose on her haunches to the point that he was staring down the neckline of her white school blouse at a pair of indescribably sweet, round, firm titties, and gently shook her shoulders, causing them to roll and jiggle... Abruptly, (or so it seemed to the Wench), Boris' eyes bulged, he grunted a curse in Russian, and clamped his hand behind her head as his thick penis stiffened and surged, pouring copious quantities of semen into the Wench's mouth. The quantity was surprising; it was more than Phillippe had generated, and MUCH more than Ed had -- the Wench swallowed frantically, but Boris kept on pulsing, straining and grunting curses in Russian under his breath. The Wench held on, and finally, Boris stopped delivering anything huge, although his cock continued to pulse. The Wench continued to lave and suckle until Boris couldn't take it any more and he staggered back, clearly spent. "Ooosh!" he exclaimed, "That was..." Clearly, he didn't have words; in a moment, he raised a calloused paw and gently caressed the Wench's cheek. Then he turned a stern visage on Bianca. "YOU, Little One!" he accused. "Do THAT in the wrong company, and you will get what you so richly deserve!" Pete and Phillippe passed a quizzical glance; they'd been conversing, ignoring the 'old guy', and had been taken by surprise by his rapid finish -- they'd missed Bianca's little display. Charles hadn't, though. "So you overheard us? That's all well and good, but Boris is right; this is the big leagues, and you could find yourself in trouble, if you're not careful!" Bianca blushed, but returned, "I'm safe here." Charles merely arched an eyebrow. Bianca went and retrieved the water glass so the Wench could again wash down the product of her exercise. The Wench took it gratefully, and drank a bit, then asked quietly, "What did you do?" Bianca grinned. "I shrugged." She suited the action to the words, and the Wench grinned back. At fourteen, Bianca was carrying more soft, rounded flesh on her chest than the Wench had at almost twice her age due to the fact that the Wench had been a model and was built to suit. The pair were as different as Mutt and Jeff, but it was a matter of taste which was more beautiful. The Wench looked up brightly and asked, "Okay, who's next?" She glanced at Charles, but he demurred, "You're used to me." This wasn't strictly true, but he had ample opportunity. He swept a glance over the others. "Pete? Before I open up seconds?" Pete grimaced a second, then grunted, "Yeah..." and started forward. "I don't want to ruin your domestic situation," Charles admonished. "I'm the latest in a great long line with Amy," Pete replied, "and we're not exclusive. I don't KNOW she's saving it up for me... But I DO know she's careful, so I figure I'm safe." Pete was the beautiful side of handsome, narrowly muscular, with dark, wavy hair and green eyes. Bianca had spent many an afternoon watching him work on hedges from her bedroom window. The body parts he exposed now were the only ones she hadn't drooled over before, and they were every bit as beautiful as everything else. Pete had a long, smooth, solid-looking circumcised cock with a fat, purple tip that ran a good bit over seven inches; the Wench's eyes widened at the sight. The testicles that hung below weren't as big as Boris', but they went well with the rest of the package, being good-sized without appearing to totally fill his scrotum. There was a tight, round ass there, too, although neither of the women was really in a position to see it well. The Wench glanced at Charles. "I'm gonna need to use my hands for a bit. This is... big..." Charles grimaced, but nodded, and the Wench put her hands on Pete's thighs -- not to hold him off, but to give herself a base from which to impale herself on perhaps the longest cock she'd ever taken! Bianca watched over her shoulder, wide eyed -- Pete was hung! Omigawd! The Wench started slow, laving the head and the shaft while Pete groaned in pleasure, then ovalled her lips around the glans and began the serious work of coating the shaft with spit and absorbing it, using her hands to pull Pete in. If she'd had to start cold with Pete, she'd never have been able to do it, but previous efforts had been confidence-building. Soon, red-faced and sweating, she was managing to push Pete through the opening and into her throat every few strokes. Deep-throat action of this class was a new experience for Pete; aside from the sensations, watching the Wench work to absorb his erection was a big ego-booster. And little Bianca's bug-eyed regard made it even sweeter -- not to mention the impressive amount of cleavage she was displaying! Still, a mouth is not a pussy, and the waves of sensation rose and fell as the Wench tried different things, looking for a successful combination. Exhaustion was quickly claiming the Wench, too -- this was hard work! Her mouth was sore, and her tongue was worn out... Pete's beautiful cock deserved better, but she just didn't have any more to give... It seemed to take forever, and DID take almost fifteen minutes, before Pete got really tense and took over control, hissing, "I'm close..." For the next few strokes, the Wench concentrated upon keeping her mouth tight, but her teeth out of the way, as Pete abused her throat with several long strokes. At that point, he buried it, groaning, and poured his seed down her open throat while the Wench struggled to breathe and not choke. After the first four big pulses, Pete backed off, and the Wench cradled his cock in her mouth, suckling while she got her breath and control back. After a few seconds, Pete stepped back, murmuring, "Mmmmmm, nice!" And it had been; Amy was an experienced cocksucker, but there was something about this total subservience thing and Amy didn't really try to do deep throat... The Wench swallowed hard to clear the sticky mess in her throat and murmured hoarsely, "I can do better... Tired..." Charles, examining her closely, gave a nod of confirmation; four blowjobs was a few, especially given what went into that last effort... "Shit, no seconds?" Phillippe complained. He'd been looking forward to going again -- and trying to outlast Pete. Charles considered this, eyeing the Wench. She was exhausted, but aroused, his experience told him. Hmmmmm. "Well, perhaps we can abuse another opening. Wench, drop over onto your hands. Phillippe, why don't you get yourself some pussy -- only try to pull out and feed her your cum, all right? That should work..." "Hot damn!" Phillippe shucked out of his jeans and circled behind the Wench, who had followed instructions willingly and was looking at Charles in some gratitude. She was smoking hot; it was kind of Sir to recognize it and grant her some service... Bianca got out of the way, and Phillippe knelt up and with little ado nosed his cock between some soaking- wet nether lips. "Oh, Holy shit! And I thought her MOUTH was good!" Glancing over at the others, he announced, "She's soaking wet, guys -- we weren't exactly raping her... Aaaaaahhhhhh!" Bianca had a ringside seat, and the stimulation was killing her! Phillippe set up a pounding rhythm, and the Wench was already throwing her head back, snorting in pleasure, and Bianca's pussy itched like mad! What to do, what to do... Bianca glanced around in desperation, to find the other four males watching her like hawks -- which made things even worse! Ed was actively smirking, while Pete attempted without much success to keep a straight face; Boris and Charles both managed to transmit amusement while being poker-faced. From a male standpoint, Bianca was nearly glowing in the dark, she was so hot! She was squirming, her face, neck, and upper chest were pink, and her nipples were tenting her blouse through the bra. Watching the whole thing was, frankly, delightful! When the Wench dropped onto her elbows to raise her ass, moaned, "Ohhhh, God!" and started undulating through her first orgasm, Bianca became frantic! Charles took pity on her. "Run and get more towels, Bianca -- we don't know how long this is going to go on..." Bianca was off like a shot, running through the door, around the corner and up the hall to the linen closet. Instead of merely collecting towels, she closed the door behind her, welcoming the darkness while her hand sought the waistband of the cotton panties under her pleated school skirt. Her middle finger slid through damp pubic curls in the swamp that was her panty gusset and engaged her clitoris, rubbing the oversensitive bud in a pattern long-practiced while she bit the other hand to keep from making noise. In her mind's eye, it was her that knelt on the back portico, nude, her ass in the air while Pete slid his beautiful cock in and out of her needy channel. Orgasm found her in less than fifteen seconds; she leaned against the wall, weak-kneed, while the waves surged through her, then teased herself to a second as soon as she could bear to touch her screaming clitoris. That was it, though -- she'd been gone a couple of minutes, and it wouldn't do for Mister Charles to come looking for her, especially if he found her with her hand in her pussy. She fumbled the light switch on and collected a couple of hand towels, then, on second thought, a couple more, and ran back to the porch. The Wench was just starting orgasm number three, her moans muffled by Ed's cock as he knelt on his knees before her. Phillippe continued to pound away, but his whole demeanor said that orgasm was imminent. As Bianca perched herself on the edge of a lounge chair, wondering if she could find a corner to rub, and, if so, whether she dared, Phillippe raised a hand to wave urgently and grunted, "Ed, back off! I gotta... !" Ed nodded and lurched to his feet as Phillippe backed out of the Wench's vagina and ran to present his cock for her to suck the essence from. Ed, circling around more or less automatically, found himself staring at the Wench's spasming pink gash. He glanced at Charles, who pulled a face and shrugged, so he knelt and socket himself in her welcoming tunnel. The trio sighed in harmony, two male "Aaaaahhhhh"s and a female, "Mmmmmmmm!" Phillippe began pouring semen into the Wench's open mouth while Ed exclaimed, "Jeezus, this is some hot shit!" The Wench was drinking more or less automatically, while she finished her interrupted orgasm; Ed had arrived and was paving new ground just in time to extend it. The whole thing was incredibly hot, and Bianca began to simmer again almost immediately. The chair wasn't offering Bianca any relief; maybe the arm... She got up and perched herself along the wooden chair arm, one foot on the seat cushion, and one on the floor. Yes, she could accomplish something here... She glanced up, meeting Charles's eyes -- eyes that said he knew EXACTLY what she was up to! Bianca hopped up, blushing guiltily. A glance at Boris and Pete found them rapt in the action around the Wench; Phillippe was staggering back from round two, obviously spent. Bianca collected a towel from the stack and handed it to him, wondering if she should make an effort to dry him off? Phillippe merely took it, though, with a grateful "Thanks." Bianca retired to the lounger, again perching herself on the arm, one foot carefully placed on the frame beside the seat cushion. Her glance at Charles as she began grinding her mound slowly against the arm was a challenge, but Charles' return look was merely amused. The Wench was moaning continuously, "Uuuuuhhhh, oooooohhhhhh!", rocking against Ed's plowing stroke, her eyes distant. Pete and Boris exchanged glances, Boris clearing his throat and blurting, "I think I'll..." Pete waved a hand, and after a nod from Charles, Boris returned to the fray, dropping his dungarees and waving his again rampant cock in the Wench's face. The Wench just took it in as presented, her "Ooooohhhh"s turning to "Mmmmmmm"s as her mouth filled. Boris reflected that the vibrations from the sounds she was making added to the effect; otherwise, it wouldn't be nearly as good as the first pass; the Wench's primary attention was currently going to Ed's activity at her other end. It was nice, though, and he could probably... Boris shied away from the thought, but Charles voiced it, anyway: "Go ahead, fuck her face -- she should get the practice." Boris blinked, but hesitantly took the redhead's head in both hands and began directing her, adjusting to the rhythm Ed had going from the rear. This drew quite a bit more of the Wench's attention, which attenuated the sensations she was getting from Ed, but a level of sanity returned to her as she remembered her role; it wasn't her job to cum like a racehorse, it was her job to give these men pleasure! She began working to improve Boris' experience, controlling her lips and laving the underside of his cock with her tongue -- but one hundred percent attention was impossible; Ed's efforts were impossible to ignore, even if she wanted to, (and, of course, she didn't... ). The lounger creaked, and Bianca glanced around guiltily. She had the corner of the chair arm pressed along her slit and was grinding it against her clitoris in an effort at relief. Pete glanced up and looked thoughtful; Bianca looked to be in dire straits. Charles was looking at her, but his face was enigmatic; in a moment, he looked away, back to the Wench's antics. Pete decided that maybe it was time to check on the girl; certainly, she was catching a lot, here -- maybe she was having trouble dealing with it? Bianca was near explosion. The pressure of the chair arm on her clit had been a help, at first, but now it demanded more and more. Control was slipping; she was beyond the point where she could disengage without outside interference. She was going to cum right here, and the thought that everybody present might catch her just added to the whole thing! She knelt there, moving only fractionally, her attention closing to a tunnel, the other end of which framed the Wench and the two men reaping pleasure from her, while the geyser rumbled louder and louder, roaring in her ears. Pete circled around, coming up on Bianca's right. She appeared to be hypnotized by the action before her, but upon close examination, she was shaking a bit, he thought. Certainly, she looked feverish... Gently, Pete placed a hand at the juncture of her neck and left shoulder and murmured, "Sweetie, are you okay?" That did it. Bianca felt the touch, and turned wondering eyes to Pete -- and the geyser erupted! Suddenly, she crashed against him, her right hand taking the forearm that he raised to support her in a death grip, and he watched her eyes roll up as she began undulating against the chair arm, moaning, "UuuuuuuUUhhhhhh!!" This went on for a couple of seconds, while Pete wondered if she was having a fit or something, then she collapsed against him, panting. But that didn't last long, either -- in a moment, she muttered, "Oh, God!" distantly, then surged up as if galvanized, and ran inside... Bianca's humiliation knew no bounds! She didn't stop running until she'd reached her bedroom in the servant's quarters, where she plopped on the bed and tried to work her way through a fit of hysterics. Omigod! She'd cum, right there in front of all those men! And Pete! God! What would he THINK of her? For his part, Pete was thunderstruck! What the f--? His first inkling came from a glance at Charles, who had nearly collapsed in silent mirth. "What the Hell was THAT all about?" It took a moment; Charles couldn't get his breath, he was laughing so hard. Charles looked around a bit; Phillippe had missed the whole thing, basically -- he was recuperating from his efforts with the Wench, sprawled in a deck chair. Ed and Boris were both engaged with the Wench, who was in no condition to notice much outside the boundaries of her own body. He waved Pete over and began to explain in a conspiratorial whisper, "Little Bianca might be only fourteen, but she's all woman -- a lot of Hispanic beauties mature early. She was rubbing herself off on the chair arm; when you came over, you set her off..." There was another quick chuckle, suppressed with some effort. "I figure she diddled herself in the linen closet a bit ago -- that's basically why I sent her out. Apparently, it wasn't enough..." Another suppressed snort. "This is gonna be a tough week for little Bianca." "Jeezus." Pete shook his head in wonder. The first guy to sink his dick in THAT one would have his hands full... "There's something else," Charles added, "I think she's got a thing for you..." "You just HAD to tell me that..." Pete had a 'thing' for Bianca, too -- it hadn't really gotten serious until today, though. Up until now, it had been merely, 'If I was just a few years younger... ' when he glimpsed her soft rounded curves barely concealed in a bikini around the pool. Today, however, had added a layer of urgency, now that he knew that SHE knew what sex was... NOW he knew that she was masturbating, and probably thinking of him while doing it... The temptation... Charles shrugged. "You should know... The poor thing is going to be heavily stimulated all week. We already know that she's... vulnerable. I wouldn't go chasing it if I were you -- Raoul is very good with knives -- but you might survive the fallout if she makes a present of it to you. Masturbation aside, I'm sure she's cherry. Better think about what you're going to do if you wake up with her beside you..." Pete stood there musing, shaking his head. Amy was hot, but she wasn't any raving beauty -- and she had some habits that didn't sit well with him. Basically, she was a steady, enthusiastic source of good sex; neither of them was emotionally committed. Pete was kind of a male trophy for her -- what the Hell, the pay was good... But the Wench had her outgunned on several fronts, and Bianca... Gawd! He was entertaining the idea! He shelved the whole thing, turning to take in the current action. Ed was pumping away like a madman, only marginally making any effort to take it easy on the Wench, who had no choice but to transfer the jarring impacts to Boris. But Boris didn't care; he was cursing reverently in some other language that Pete assumed was Russian, his face scarlet as he held the Wench's head in his hands, his heavy club of a cock sawing in and out between her lips. As Pete watched, he lost it, pulling her face into his crotch and grunting while she hummed, "Goooo, goooo, goooo," and swallowed, visibly, three times. Boris basically fell away from the Wench at that point, tripping on his dungarees and plopping onto his ass, but he was done, anyway; he slid forward a bit to caress the Wench's gooey cheek, then got up, hauling at his dungarees, and shuffled off. Charles regarded Pete with an eyebrow raised. Pete took the hint, but rubbed at his jaw; suddenly, there might be something better... Ultimately, he shrugged and shuffled around to where the Wench was regarding a chair with sightless eyes. "Wench? Can you go another round?" "Ummmm?" The Wench struggled to raise her head. "Uhhhh, kay," she replied gamely. Pete shook his head -- the whole thing might not be worth it; the Wench was pretty far gone. But she blinked owlishly at him and challenged, "C'mon!" The Wench WAS far gone -- she was in a place she'd never been in before, adrift between her fifth and sixth orgasm -- or was it sixth and seventh? It didn't matter; she was running on nerve, exhaustion threatening to stave off the next orgasm. Ed picked that moment to signal his final approach, "Pete, don't -- I'm ready!" He shuffled back and circled around, gritting his teeth in an effort to get inside the Wench's mouth before the explosion. The Wench's mouth closed around his glans just before he reached the point of losing the battle, either way -- ejaculation or losing the orgasm altogether seemed to be the choice -- and with a loud, "Aaaaaaaaahhhhhh!" he let go. The Wench took it, gamely diving on Ed's spurting cock to get it in deep. Pete shook his head and circled around, undoing his belt. Might as well get some pussy... "OOOOOGH!" 'Gawd, another cock!' the Wench thought muzzily, 'Big one, too!' She was busy choking on Ed, so it couldn't be him... For a bit, it didn't matter, despite the interesting things the new cock was doing. But Ed finally extracted his dribbling cock to the point that she could merely hold it in her mouth, and she could stop worrying about where the semen she'd collected from it was going to go. At that point, things shifted again, and Ed's cleanup got little attention -- that cock was BIG! The Wench turned her head, allowing Ed's deflating cock to plop out of her mouth, and blearily regarded -- Pete! Ooh, Lord! Pete grinned at her, and continued mining new territory inside her already battered pussy -- but he was making ground; the Wench felt the bubble of joy begin to swell inside her again, despite the wear and tear -- in fact, the pain was fueling the pleasure... Pete was surprised; after having had two other guys in it, the Wench's pussy was still tight and sweet! Man, this was good shit! It had Amy wiped! Amy started out tight, but Pete had learned to do her doggy style so he could pop her on the ass periodically to get her to tighten back up. The Wench apparently didn't need any tune-ups -- she was just naturally tight... Pete started getting that iron-hard feeling that presaged a cum. Just a few more strokes... The Wench, however, delivered a surprise. She dropped onto her elbows, raising her ass, and let out an impassioned, "UUUUuuuuuhhhhhh!!" And her pussy began to pulse. Pete never got out. The first wringing clasp triggered him. Pete went bug-eyed. "Wooooo!" His cock started to gush; control was out the window. He leaned forward, burying himself deep, and let it go, glancing up at Charles and shrugging sheepishly. Charles shrugged back; he was watching the Wench work her way through her orgasm -- he knew what had happened. He glanced back up at Pete. "All done?" A nod. "Okay, grab a towel and take off; I need to bring Bianca back to clean up, and I'm sure you don't want her to catch you with your dick in the Wench." Charles took the sting out of this observation with a grin; Pete nodded and took off. ------- Chapter 6: Unfettered Philosophy and Power Trips Bianca was sitting in her room, slowly getting a grip, when the intercom came on and a now familiar voice said, "Bianca? The Wench is done; she's going to need you to help clean her up and get her back to her quarters." Dread slowed her response, but she made it to the wall panel and husked, "Okay." "Hurry along, then." Charles sighed; the girl was going to need some fatherly advice, and he'd never been one. He walked over to where the Wench was still kneeling, exhausted, and ran his hand along the smooth curve of her back. "Why don't you lie down for a bit, Wench? Bianca's on the way to help." The Wench collapsed in place, rolling onto her side. She was exhausted, physically and mentally. Her mouth hurt, her throat was sore, her knees were rug-burned, and her pussy was sore -- but she'd lost count of the orgasms she'd gotten from the yard boys. Add to that the fact that she'd largely succeeded in the purpose of the exercise, and it was a positive experience, all in all. The wooden floor of the porch was cool, and sleep beckoned. Bianca arrived, and took in the state of her charge. "Is she okay?" Charles nodded. "Yes, merely tired. I'm quite proud of her -- only the one accident!" He beamed a bit. Bianca stood there, drawing invisible diagrams on the floor with her sneaker toe. "I, uhh..." Charles cut her off. "You are young and you were inundated with something you'd had little exposure to. Your body reacted the way it was supposed to. Everybody understands." "But, Pete!" "Especially Pete. You aren't a little sweet on Pete, are you?" Charles teased gently. Bianca's throat closed -- all she could manage was an embarrassed nod. Charles nodded. "I thought so. Well, you could do worse. But if your father catches him in a compromising position with you, the knife will come out. Pete isn't your age, either..." "Boys my age are just that! Boys!" Bianca spat. Charles blinked. "Well," he temporized, "most girls figure that they can mold a boy into something decent at that age. Some even succeed..." He paused, then said carefully, "Pete is a better choice for your first experience, but the age difference will matter to most people -- I wouldn't plan to bear his children. In fact, if you should mention this conversation to anyone, I'll deny it -- I can't be seen as encouraging you." "Well," Bianca sighed, "God knows what he thinks of me now..." "You made it clearly apparent that you are not a child, but a woman. He noticed." Charles retorted. "Other than that, well, being sexually responsive might be an embarrassment in the presence of other women, but to men it is a positive thing; basically, I'd say you put yourself on the map... Be sure to tell me if you receive unwanted advances -- Pete wasn't the only one to notice." He turned to regard the Wench. "Let's get a look at your patient." The Wench was a mess; her sharp model's features were coated with goo that ran down her neck to her breasts. Stepping around the back side, Bianca discovered more goo oozing from her vulva. "Hey!" Charles chuckled. "Someone didn't make it around front," he noted. "Things stayed pretty wild until almost everyone had gotten through round two. If you'd hung around, you'd have needed more relief." Bianca looked at the mess. "I need to get out of my school clothes." Charles nodded. The white blouse and plaid skirt weren't really up to the muck. "Hurry back. Make it something you can get wet -- you're going to have to bathe her." Bianca nodded and dashed off again. Charles watched her go, wishing he had the energy to bounce around that fast... Charles stood over the Wench for about five minutes, which had to be a world record for changing clothes by a teenage girl -- especially since Bianca reappeared with a small basin and a couple of washrags. She was wearing jean shorts that weren't QUITE 'Daisy Dukes' and a swimsuit top that was meant to be demure -- but demure had to be difficult when you were carrying the firm round globes on your chest that Bianca was. 'Yes', Charles mused to himself, 'she's going to be a man-killer.' Bianca knelt next to the Wench and began applying the washrag to her face. The Wench started and threw up her hands, but Bianca murmured, "Shhhh! I'm cleaning you up. It's my job, remember?" "Ummmm, yeah. Okay." The Wench sighed and relaxed. Exhaustion had her in its grip, and Bianca's efforts were gentle. Bianca nudged her over onto her back and she rolled flat obligingly. Charles grunted. "Okay, I'm leaving her to you. Get her into a shower, then into her cage -- but leave the door open. And make sure there isn't a lot of goo around here!" he admonished. "Yes sir." Bianca returned her attention to the Wench, ignoring Charles' departing footsteps. As she worked on her neck and breasts, the Wench opened one eye and opined, "I made a spectacle of myself, didn't I?" Bianca grinned. "I think that was the idea. How was it?" "Tough at first. I enjoy giving blowjobs -- it's a service thing, and when I succeed, it's an accomplishment. But there was a deliberate roughness to these..." She mused a moment, enjoying the swipe of the rag on her left breast. "Of course, it was supposed to be, and that made success even sweeter... When Phillippe started fucking me, I was already primed, and the going got a LOT easier... I don't know HOW many times I came, and Pete..." "Pete?" Bianca looked up from dabbing at the Wench's labia. The Wench nodded. "That's Pete," she amplified, nodding toward her crotch. "I got a really big one and dragged him along before he could get out and run around." She eyed Bianca, "You weren't here?" "No." It seemed that the answer was unnecessarily short, so Bianca added, "I... left." "Well, there was a lot of wild shit going on. I'VE never done THAT, so I'm pretty sure YOU'VE never seen it. What happened? When did you go?" "I was... in and out." Both women smiled at the inadvertent pun. "Scoot over -- I need to work on the floor." Bianca selected her original cleaning materials, the harsher detergents not meant for human use, and began swiping at the porch floor. After a moment, she continued, "I got hot right away, but watching Phillippe... fuck... you had me going nuts! Mister Charles sent me off for towels, so I stopped and rubbed myself off in the linen closet -- but it wasn't enough..." She dipped a sponge and went at the floorboards again. "When I got back, you had Ed in one end and Boris in the other. It was bad -- I couldn't handle it, so I went over and parked over that chair arm..." Musing, she got up and, taking the sponge, began to wipe the lounger arm. "It didn't work -- or maybe it did -- I don't know. I got really hot, and suddenly there was this hand on my shoulder, and I looked up and Pete..." Bianca blushed fire engine red. "I got a BIG one, and when I came back, I was draped all over him! So much for being quiet..." She wouldn't meet the Wench's eyes as she returned to collect the materials, tossing the contents of the basins over the porch rail. Piling the things beside the door, she came back to the Wench and extended an arm, "Let's get you inside." The Wench took the arm, and leaned on Bianca to the door, but announced, "I'll help with these..." and collected some of the cleaning materials. The pair headed downstairs to the laundry, the Wench following Bianca who was more familiar with the layout. After dumping towels and other linens, the pair headed for the cleaning closet, where Bianca rinsed the various containers and put them away. The Wench, leaning against the wall, made the connection: "You got a thing for Pete?" Bianca's answer was in her eyes. "Well, you can't blame him for doing me -- it's what he was there for. Besides, there was this male ego thing going on..." "I guess he's got a steady girlfriend, too," Bianca sighed. "Um, well, if I remember right, it's not that big a thing," the Wench replied. "More a case of scratching each other's itches than anything else. And according to Pete, Amy isn't that particular... But, uh, you know, he's, well, a LOT older than you..." "Yeah, but he's SO cute!" Bianca gushed. "Besides, in twenty years, no one would know the difference!" The pair headed off toward the Wench's quarters for the next phase, the Wench still walking a bit unsteadily. "Honey, a guy as cute as he is ALWAYS has a woman -- well, at LEAST one. And while you're right -- even ten years from now it would be no big thing -- right now, it's robbing the cradle, and he could go to jail, if your daddy didn't get him first..." "Oh, I know. I'd never be able to hold onto him. And the whole world would screech about how old I am -- but boys my age are SUCH idiots! Besides, I want it done right when the time comes -- I don't know anyone my age I could trust for that!" The Wench stopped and turned to the young girl, leaning against the doorframe for support, but grabbing her by the arm and swinging her to around so their eyes could meet. "Honey, is that ALL you want? A good first time?" Bianca looked defensive. "Well, a good first FEW times, maybe..." "How few?" Bianca grinned. "If it's as good as I think it is, as many as I can get!" The impish smile was replaced by a more serious look. "I know I'm just a kid, and I can't hold him. But it would sure be fun to try!" The Wench chuckled and let go of Bianca's arm, sliding her arm up and around her shoulder as the pair resumed walking. "Don't underestimate yourself, Honey -- you're all woman. You'd be surprised what you can catch!" The pair entered the bath off the Wench's quarters and got her into the shower, Bianca plopping on the toilet seat while the Wench cleaned herself. It was a quiet interlude, the Wench luxuriating in the feel of the water on her various sore spots and Bianca coming down from her part of the racy interlude that had preceded it. If this was the Wench's normal activity, this would be a tough week... Bianca gave voice to the query, "Is this kind of thing normal for you?" The Wench pulled her face from under the spray and looked thoughtful. "I haven't been here long enough for there to be a 'normal', I don't think... That was the wildest thing I've ever done, in many ways. Master is kinky -- he likes humiliation, he likes to prove his control, and he's into producing pain, both to see if you can take it and to see if it excites you -- but he's mostly a solo act. So I've done stranger, but not more." She finished rinsing and stepped out to where Bianca had both her towel and another question ready. "How did you get to be here, doing this?" Bianca asked, as she began rubbing the Wench's back while she collected a second towel for her hair. "Um, do you mean was I always a slut?" the Wench retorted, then became thoughtful. "No, this is basically Master's doing. Up until a few weeks ago, I was a model. When I had a name, it was Felicia -- now it is whatever Master decides to call me." She worked quietly for a bit, while Bianca worked at her back, then deliberately spread her legs. Bianca took the hint and wiped her ass, then knelt to do both legs, both of them pretending to ignore the effects of working on the more intimate areas -- but Bianca was being too thorough for either of them not to be clear on the fact that she was being deliberately intimate. Having been waited out, the Wench continued, "I had hot and cold running men, but it was about getting them to spend money on me, not about sex. I was beautiful, and somewhat famous, and it was a privilege to be with me -- one that men paid for by buying me things and taking me places. Oh, I liked sex, and I had it occasionally, but there was some calculation to it -- would this rich guy buy me that? That kind of thing. Master was to be a long-term investment; you see, I had peaked, and demand was beginning to drop off, so I was looking for a more permanent source of supply for the good things in life." The Wench turned around, and dared Bianca with her eyes to continue, her arms still up working her hair -- and Bianca took the dare, starting at her neck, and working down over her breasts and armpits. The Wench continued, "Master didn't play games. Suddenly, I was the supplicant, and HE was telling ME what I would do to secure my position. It was a new game for me, and I didn't understand the rules -- or maybe I didn't understand that there weren't any. Master demanded more and more of me, while waving the flag of my greed before me. One day, he called me into his office, where he was getting a blowjob from a woman that he identified as his ex- wife. I don't know if it was, but she just turned red and kept on sucking. I gather that it is a tactic Master uses to separate the sheep from the goats -- only someone with guts and real greed will hang around for the next step. But Master didn't realize that there is a third group -- women who WANT to be owned. I didn't know I was one such until I saw him exercise his control over her like that -- but I got hot flashes any time I thought about it." Bianca was slowly working lower. The Wench once again assumed a spread stance, and Bianca knelt while working her way over her belly and hips. Bianca caught a whiff of the Wench's distinctive vaginal secretions -- she was getting aroused just telling the tale! "Go on," Bianca prompted, while shifting to her calves and ankles. Both knew that she would work her way up... "Things went downhill quickly after that," the Wench related, "Master made demands, things that no self-respecting woman would put up with. He just took -- and I gave. Oral sex, anal sex, beatings, fisting, diabolical tortures, humiliation, abuse... He had me give blowjobs to business associates, eat out his secretary... I think I realized before he did that I HAD no self-respect -- or at least it wasn't important. He would demand something outrageous, and I would comply or be punished. Only I always complied... He punished me anyway -- object lessons, or whatever. The intent was to break me -- but I was already broken... I learned to link pain with pleasure; if it hurts, is scary, or humiliating, it's just another sensation to pile atop the others and enjoy. Sex went from being a tool I used to get things to something I craved, a gift I could give my Master to seek his approval. Master continued to push, looking for resistance, even to the point of causing me to fear for my life -- it didn't matter. If Master wants my life, he can have it; I'll do what I can to go quietly..." Bianca had reached her crotch and was gently dabbing between her legs. The Wench stepped over and put one foot up on the toilet. "Am I okay down there? It took a beating, and it's a little sore -- do you see any blisters or anything?" Bianca leaned in warily, but the Wench reached down an opened herself up. "C'mon, you've shaved it -- give it a good look! Prod around, or whatever! If it needs something, we need to know sooner, rather than later -- if Master wants me and I'm not right..." "Okay." Bianca got down low and tried to get a good look from below, but it was limited. Rising, she directed, "Turn and face the door, and bend over. I've got no light down there." She bent to a serious examination of the older woman, who continued to hold herself spread. Gently, she ran a finger here and there in the surface groove of her pink channel. "That hurt?" "Nooo..." A child of a modest culture, Bianca was ill-equipped to give gynecological exams, but she got serious about it, running her finger around the opening of the Wench's vagina. "How's that?" "Ummm, fine." The Wench closed her eyes and Bianca couldn't escape the idea that she was enjoying the attention. Well, might as well make it a learning experience... She probed deeper, hunting around in the fleshy folds. "And this?" "Good. It's starting to be fun..." Bianca snatched her hand back, scandalized, but the Wench just winked and grinned. "I was just teasing. Haven't you ever diddled another girl on a sleepover, or something?" "Um, no," Bianca replied. "Couldn't bring anyone here -- it'd come out that Papa was a servant..." "Not to mention the unsavory goings-on around here..." The Wench nodded. "Well, it doesn't mean anything much. In modeling, a lot of the girls are high-strung, and boys are around to pay the tab, not get comfort from. I've diddled and been diddled for comfort and stress relief -- it DEFINITELY doesn't mean I don't like boys... Besides, it's more fun than doing it yourself." The Wench rose. "Guess things are fine, then. Good to know -- I didn't know if I could take that much attention..." The pair headed for the Wench's quarters, a mostly bare room with a four-foot by four-foot cage in the middle. "Why do they make you sleep here?" Bianca asked. "To remind me that I'm a slave. And to inspire me to work hard to be allowed to sleep elsewhere." The Wench seemed nonchalant. "I'm pretty tired, so it won't matter tonight." She got down on all fours and crawled into the cage, and Bianca shut the door. "Better lock it," the Wench admonished. Bianca did so, but asked, "What if you have to pee?" "I'll hold it. Worst case, you'll have to clean up the mess..." The Wench's eyes danced. Bianca grinned back and squatted there, apparently in no hurry to leave. "So, you said you had to lick out Mister Armand's secretary. Have you ever been licked out?" "Uh huh." The Wench rotated around and curled up on her side facing Bianca. "I've given, and I've taken, freely. Getting your pussy eaten is not something you pass up, once you've had it -- whether the person doing it is a boy or a girl. Tongue rides are a lot of fun, and they're 'equal opportunity'. Don't let anybody kid you; boys do it, too -- to each other. They generally won't admit it because other guys will call 'em queer, but most guys have had a blowjob from another guy -- usually when they were young and first getting into sex. It's experimentation... But guys are a lot touchier about it than girls." "Why?" "It's a service. A submission. Coming from your culture as you do, I don't have to tell you about machismo..." The Wench grinned. "Think how humiliated your Papa would be to have to perform a service like that -- submit to another man and suck his cock..." "Oh," Bianca replied, then her eyes widened, "Oh!" "Honey?" "Papa was... freaked... for a couple of weeks a while back. Alternated between being embarrassed and severe attacks of machismo. I think Mister Jason punished him for something..." "Oh." The Wench blinked. "Ummmm, yeah, you're probably right. It's seriously humiliating, and Jason -- or even Master -- is fully capable of it. I heard that Jason has been abusing Jorge regularly that way." She eyed Bianca. "That's probably why you're here, now -- Jason probably made your Papa do that and it freaked him out so bad that Master forbade him to repeat it." She lay there a moment, thinking. "You can see why guys won't admit to it -- it's tantamount to admitting that they're not fit to lead, be the 'Alpha Male'. And you can see how being forced into it might really bust up someone who is into machismo." She eyed Bianca. "Knowing Jason, he probably beat up your Papa first, and then forced him. Don't blame him for it -- don't ever mention it, if you want to keep the peace." Bianca shook her head. "If it's not so awful, why does everyone act like it is?" "Honey, ignorance and superstition run rampant in both of our cultures. We got ours from the Puritans, and you got yours from the Pope. You've had World History, right? You realize that in the Middle Ages, the Pope was more powerful than most kings? A lot of the crap that still exists in Catholicism has nothing to do with God, but everything to do with controlling people. Morals are sacrosanct, and you're taught them early -- they don't have to make sense. So bad ones are almost impossible to root out. Religion provides almost all of our standards of conduct -- and some are as foolish as others are good -- but because you aren't encouraged to analyze your religious beliefs, the bad and the good are a mixed-up mess..." She mused for a moment. "Homosexuality is counter-productive for the propagation of the species -- but there are too many of us, already. So what's the harm? The Pope is against it because he needs more ignorant Catholic kids for a power base -- just like he's against birth control. Do you think it's really better to raise a kid in squalor caused by overpopulation than to keep him from being born? Ever hear of quality of life?" Bianca was thoroughly shocked. This -- slave -- was trashing her religion! The Wench blithely plowed on, and Bianca quelled her outrage when she discovered that the attack was general, and, worse, made sense: "Religious law is impossible to repeal. The Jews and the Muslims have a bunch of dietary and sanitary regulations written in their religious texts that make perfect sense in the Middle East, in the desert, forty miles from water -- but make no sense at all given modern sanitation. But they can't get rid of 'em, they're right there next to other, supposedly immutable wisdom. If religious scholars got up and said, 'Gee, this is no longer true -- we should delete it, ' what would that say for the next line on the page? A lot of what goes by the name of religion is about secular power..." The Wench trailed off at Bianca's look of confusion. "Secular?" "Worldly. Who REALLY owns the real-estate. Religion is supposed to be about God, but ends up being about who owns the hearts and minds of the most people. And it all usually hinges upon the idea that some written work is the one absolute Word of God, which you're supposed to believe implicitly despite the fact that it appears to be a collection of tall tales. Then everybody embroiders it with stuff they wanted done at the time, and because it's in The Book, it's unassailable, too. The Catholics are the worst, by some measures, because they had things in hand for so long. Why do you think that there are so many sects that go under the heading of Christianity?" Bianca shrugged, and the Wench answered, "Because each of them -- Lutherans, Episcopalians, Baptists, you name it -- slice and dice the Bible differently. But ALL of them chop out the crap that the Catholics wove around it in an effort to control millions of poor, ignorant peasants!" The Wench paused, eyed Bianca sidelong, and grinned. "Sorry, where were we? Oh, yeah -- ignorance is rampant. Masturbation is good for you, and everybody does it -- but no one can admit it because some moron will take the opportunity to publicly denounce them if it will get him a minute in the spotlight. Oral sex with a member of your own sex is just fun and a release of tension if you're NOT homosexual, and it doesn't MAKE you homosexual and almost everybody does it, sometime. But once again, nobody -- especially no male -- can admit it. Oral sex with the opposite sex is pretty damned wonderful, but even IT is frowned upon -- and the reason seems to be because you're NOT risking pregnancy! And that brings us back to the axiom that sex is for procreation. Once, there was an emphasis on that for the survival of the species -- lots of people died, and everyone was encouraged to have as many kids as possible. Women were subjugated by men who were constantly reminded that it was their duty to father as many children as possible. But the underpinnings of the situation slipped away; we got basic control over disease, and population mushroomed, killing each other, wholesale or retail, came to be frowned upon, women started making their own mark and moving out from under male control. But the words were still there; they assumed a different focus: The emphasis went from 'Sex is for procreation, so don't pull out and dump your semen on the ground, make sure she's pregnant', to 'Sex is for procreation; you should abstain. Or at least, don't enjoy it!' Bianca had settled to the ground, tailor-fashion, outside the cage, making for a strange picture -- a cross between 'Receiving Enlightenment at the Feet of the Master' and 'Interrogating the Prisoner'. The Wench was reflecting on this ruefully when Bianca asked her next question: "What about incest? Surely banning THAT is reasonable!" "Mmmm, sort of. Let's take a look at it. Understanding modern genetics, we realize that the admonition was put in place to keep ignorant fools from peeing in the gene pool too many times in a row." Bianca giggled. "But any dog breeder will tell you that occasionally grafting the family tree back upon itself has value. The other, generally unspoken reason for the rule is to keep young boys and girls from being exploited by their horny relatives -- shucks, there are places in THIS country where the definition of 'virgin' is 'any girl who can outrun all of her male relatives. But YOU want to learn about sex from an older guy! I don't pretend to understand your relationship with your father, but if you have a male relative and you love him and trust him and he knows what he's doing, who better to teach you how to do it right?" The Wench eyed Bianca for a moment, then said quietly, "In your case, I don't think I'd recommend it, but in some families it would be an elegant solution -- except that it is forbidden. I have to tell you, Honey, that it IS done, too, far more than it is advertised. Mothers and sons, too. It almost makes MORE sense there -- A woman in her thirties is in her sexual prime, and so is a boy in his teens. Who better to teach a boy how to do it right and keep him from ruining a bunch of young girls with his failures?" Bianca sat there, shocky. The Wench apparently had an answer for EVERYTHING -- most of them weird, by the standards her family had instilled in her. But lots of times they made more sense than the 'reasons' she got from her parents... The Wench was watching Bianca, amused. After a moment, she continued, "The laws are generally in place to keep abuse from occurring -- but blanket proscriptions are seldom the answer. For me, the issue revolves around informed consent; if a teen understands the issues, and wants to go ahead, anyway, I don't think it ought to be illegal. Look at me: By law, and almost everyone's definition, I've been abused. But I volunteered for it, every step of the way, and I'm fine with the results. In fact, I'm HAPPY!" She waited another moment, and said earnestly, "Morals are for individuals, not for groups, and DEFINITELY not for legislators! Anybody who wants to tell you what you can or can't do 'for your own good' is a meddler, and too nosy for HIS own good! You have your belief system already; you got it from your parents. But if you take a good look at it and EVALUATE the things you've been told, you can toss out some of the hogwash and be happier in the long run." "Um." Bianca was about chock full, but she'd asked everything else... "Have you, uh, had sex, uh, back there?" The Wench actually chuckled. "My ass? Anal sex is both humiliating and sometimes painful; that puts it at the very top of Master's list! I've had his FIST in there! But what YOU want to know is 'is it good or bad?' The answer is, 'it depends'. I've been hurt terribly, and I've orgasmed big from the act; it's all in who is doing it and why. If you can relax and enjoy it, it isn't bad at all. Orgasm is in your head, as much as whatever hole is being worked on; with anal sex, the very 'forbidden' nature of it is erotic -- therefore orgasm from it is possible. There are other benefits, too -- the same ones as accrue to oral sex; nobody ever got pregnant from taking one in the ass. And it's better for him than your mouth - no teeth and virtually unlimited depth!" Bianca managed one more feeble question. "Gay guys do that..." "Gay males actually have one up on us for anal sex," the Wench related, "They have a prostate gland in there -- the one that gives them erections. Anal sex can actually stimulate it..." "Omigod!" Bianca squealed. It almost sounded... right! But she KNEW better! Didn't she? "I -- I gotta go," she muttered, rising. "Okay, Honey. Look, we've covered a lot of ground tonight -- all I can tell you is don't take MY word for it, or anyone else's. Look around, get the facts, and make up your own mind. Don't be railroaded by ANYBODY! Your Mama won't think I'm doing you any favors, and will probably be pissed if she learns that we had this conversation, but that's because she swallowed the line of crap SHE was given when she was your age, hook, line and sinker! At bottom, though, compare her to me. That dance she does with Jason? She's a lot closer to me than she is to a 'normal' person..." Bianca nodded, and left the room, her thoughts a welter of confusion. The Wench's last comment was awful -- but it had the ring of truth. Whatever her excuses and justifications, Mama was doing something that she would go to Hell for -- but that wasn't stopping her. Mister Jason did vile things to her before, during, and after sex -- but she didn't seem to mind. How was she different than the Wench? Basically, apparently, because she wasn't honest about it -- with herself, or with Papa, or with anyone else. That -- weirdly -- made the Wench actually superior to Mama; the Wench wasn't lying about who she was or what she was doing... Armand, who had happened upon this conversation in the middle, rewound his DVR and listened to the whole thing. He was somewhat surprised that Felicia, (he could call her that, in his own mind), had such a well- developed sense of self; he had heretofore believed that she was a broken thing, pitiful and weak-minded. The wisdom of the entire Bianca escapade was in question, too -- she was being exposed to too much, perhaps. He would discuss this with Charles, and perhaps Inez... ------- Supper at the distaff Wilson's started out strained and went south from there. Nate, figuring that the free ride could end at any time, immediately stopped any show of reluctance and dug into his grilled chicken breast with good appetite, but Nora was watching her mother, and Sharon was doing little eating. "What's wrong, Mom?" "Uuh -- nothing. I don't want to talk about it." Sharon flicked her eyes to Nate, who pretended to ignore it. HE knew why Nora's Mama was uptight. Nora wouldn't let go. "It's not 'nothing', Mom -- there's something serious bothering you." "I don't want to talk about it. It's private." Sharon favored Nate with another glance, one that she ensured that Nora detected. The intent was clear... ... And Nora didn't care. "It's about the videos, right?" Sharon's glare and chopping motions were met with, "Nate knows about the videos." "He DOES!?" Sharon erupted. Nate watched sidelong as shock, horror, shame, and humiliation crossed Sharon's features. "Baby..." "No." Nora cut him off, and rounded on her mother. "For all we know, Daddy videos US every time WE have sex! He deserved to know!" "All right," Sharon sighed. "But we don't have to discuss it right now." "Why not? You're upset, aren't you?" Nora demanded. "You're going to see Daddy tomorrow; maybe you need to get this worked out first." Sharon REALLY REALLY wanted Nate to leave, and the other two knew it. But Nate didn't move, because he knew Nora would lose control of the conversation and feel that he'd abandoned her. Grimacing, Sharon took the only open avenue, even though it wasn't one of escape. "I... watched some of them, and I didn't recognize the person I saw in them, at first. Things weren't the way I remembered them -- but I had to admit that they were right. I discovered I've been fooling myself about some facets of your father's and my relationship, and I'm not happy with the discovery." "I dunno," Nate hazarded, "from what I saw..." "WHAT?! YOU SAW?!" Sharon was up out of her chair, face white. "Uuuhhhhh..." Nate started, but Sharon was gone, running, her hands covering her face. In a moment, a door slammed. "Nate, Honey -- that wasn't smart..." Nora sighed. "Maybe you'd better go -- it's going to take me a while to get Mom to open up, now." Nate sighed and rose, looking longingly at the remains of his dinner. Nora noticed it, and murmured, "Nobody is going to eat much of this." She quickly packed some of the food in a sealable container and handed it to him. "Here. Take it with you. I'll see you tomorrow." Going on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek, but pointed him toward the door. Nate nodded. "Sorry, I wasn't thinkin'." He turned for the door. "Hey, uh, what I was gonna say -- your Daddy is hard on her, real hard. An' this has been goin' on a long time. If she didn't find ways to handle it, she'd be all fucked up. Enjoyin' it is just one way to keep it from bein' so bad..." Nora smiled and said gently, "Honey, were you going to say that for her benefit, or mine?" Nate stood there a moment, then said quietly, "Your Daddy is big into controlling people; is it any surprise that your Mama is into bein' controlled, when push comes to shove? Big surprise here is that after all this time she keeps fightin' it. There's somethin' to be said for that..." He walked slowly to the door, turned and said, "G'night, Baby. I'll see you tomorrow." Then he turned and walked out. Nora's smile went crooked. Damn him! How'd he get so smart? Sighing, she turned and headed for her mother's room. It took her an hour and a half to talk her way inside, and even then she accomplished little... ------- Stick Williams was draped on the couch in Mary Nally's bedroom, sipping a beer. They'd worked until six-thirty on homework, Stick actually tutoring Mary in Algebra, then Mary had told him to hang out upstairs while she collected some food downstairs. Stick had offered to follow her down and help, but Mary demurred. She'd had a long fight with her mother after the episode on Sunday morning; Irma Nally was deeply of the impression that the two boys -- especially the black one -- were just playing Mary for a slut. She'd let it go while the boys were there, but finding Mary in bed with both Stick and Teddy had left the firm impression that Mary was carrying her methods of entrapment too far, and she'd attempted (unsuccessfully) to impress upon Mary the idea that being too sluttish was counter-productive even in her desperate condition. For the last forty-five minutes, Mary had been up and down stairs regularly, cooking dinner and then rushing up for a moment to be with Stick, who she was half-afraid would leave while she was tending the burgers. She needn't have worried; Stick had beer, television, a place to stretch out, and, last but not least, the prospect of a good fuck -- why in the Hell would he go anywhere else? Mary showed up with a plate and an anxious expression, "Hope it's done enough..." "It'll be fine." Stick straightened up as Mary sat it on the coffee table, plopping his beer down beside it. Mary was back up, headed toward the refrigerator. "You want mustard? Ketchup?" "Mary! Settle your ass DOWN!" Stick grunted irritably. "This shit's makin' me nervous!" Mary stood there indecisive with the refrigerator door open, "You sure?" Stick rolled his eyes. "Mustard. Since you're there. My legs ain't broke, though. What the fuck is up wit' you?" Mary brought back a jar, dropped it on the table, and settled abruptly on the couch arm. "I know I'm..." "What? I seen 'bout alla ya, felt up mosta ya, an' I figger I'll get around to findin' the rest. We got past mosta that Saturday night. But the chick I was here with Saturday night had her shit together an' was more or less runnin' things. Howcum you're flakin'?" Mary dithered a bit. Fact was, she'd gotten uncommonly brave Saturday night, taking advantage of the fact that she'd known that Teddy had sucked Stick's cock in the Men's Room to blackmail them both into coming home with her. Skillful manipulation, and, in the end, a good deal of cooperation from her 'victims' had turned the night into a roaring success -- but today was another day, and her insecurities over her size were getting the best of her. "I... don't cook too well..." Stick grunted. "I don' either. So?" He sat back and grinned, "Maybe Teddy does! He can be the butler or sumpthin'! Then we all got an excuse!" Mary tittered, off the hook. "Well, eat it, before it gets cold." Stick leaned up and made himself busy with the knife and mustard jar. Mary had already provided lettuce, onion, pickle, and tomato... A fella could get used to bein' treated like a sultan... Stick was used to eating whatever, whenever -- and usually not enough. He had NO IDEA how he was going to resist being waited on hand and foot... Stick bit into the burger and got a surprise -- being homemade, it was uncommonly juicy. But Mary had handled THAT, too -- there was a stack of napkins between the plates. Mary, meanwhile, had hopped up and was riffling through her video collection. She settled on something interracial, popping it into the VCR and firing up the TV. Stick ignored it, basically, merely commenting, "Yours'll get cold, too." Mary came back to the couch and plopped down again on the arm, something carefully calculated to expose her at some point. Mary was wearing a blouse and a relatively wide, short skirt -- and she'd removed her panties the first time she went to pee after their arrival. Fishing her way out of her sports bra had been impractical -- too obvious -- but her nipples showed through when she was aroused, anyway, even though it wasn't exactly the most perfect display... For being seriously heavy -- okay, fat -- Mary wasn't gifted in the bust. She had wide-based, triangular dugs that weren't really much bigger than the rolls below them, with nipples that kind of dripped off the bottoms. They sat wide on her chest, so cleavage was almost impossible to generate -- but the flattish, nursing bottle-shaped nipples were sensitive and great providers of pleasure. Stick and Teddy had both given them serious attention on Saturday night -- maybe Stick would repeat the effort... The video rolled through the FBI warning and started playing a web page ad for a porn site. Stick glanced up and chewed reflectively for a moment, watching, then grunted, "Babe, I don' need that -- except maybe to add a little imagination to things. You want laid, I can handle it without a printed invite..." He reached up and laid a hand on the creamy, freckled flesh of her heavy thigh, letting his fingers drift along the inner surface. "Hell, it was kinda the idea..." "Okay," Mary replied, more positively than she actually felt. "Let's leave it, anyway -- I might get an idea, too." She leaned forward to collect her burger plate, deliberately widening her stance on the couch arm, opening her thighs. Stick, detecting the move, shook his head in wonder. Silly bitch! 'Let's fuck!' woulda done the job! Here she was trying to seduce him! The damned burger took two hands, though, and made both of them gooey -- he removed his hand and applied himself to it to get rid of it, more or less, even though it was really very good. Mary shook off disappointment at the removal, but left the legs wide, applying herself more slowly to her burger. The hand was back by the time the ads were over and the starting credits were running. It was a 'Blacks on Blondes' feature, something that prompted Stick to quirk an eyebrow at Mary, and Mary to smile while chewing. This was a pretty clear indication of her intent... The video's first scene featured a big, well-hung black and a rather stringy older blonde; they got past some initial kissing and stroking and on to sex fairly quickly, with the blonde getting virtually naked almost immediately and extracting her lover's cock to worship with her mouth. Things moved on pretty rapidly, however, to a rather brutal mouth-fuck, the huge black visibly pinning the gagging woman on his lengthy erection, holding her head and slapping her hands away when they came up to fend him off. Drool poured out of her lips, and her face reddened; cords stood out on her neck as she dealt with his member. Stick's questing fingers found Mary to be wet, which led to some questions in Stick's mind... "Bruthuh be pushin' that bitch pretty hard -- that turn you on?" Mary, chewing, was caught flat-footed. Clearing her throat, she reflected, "Uuh, gee, I don't know. The action is pretty hot; I didn't really think about why too much..." Stick grunted. There was a power thing built into the 'bruthuh fucks a white bitch' thing -- undercurrents of ideas like 'white dudes are pussies', and 'once you've gone black, you'll never go back'. This flick catered to that bullshit -- the bitch was being ridden hard and put up wet, slavish, like she'd do anything to keep ol' bruthuh pounding her ass. Bruthuh had quit choke fucking the bitch and was poundin' her from behind; her flabby ass cheeks were rippling to the impacts and the occasional swat. Mary was going back and forth between the flick and Stick, watching it for a bit, then checking him out while slowly chewing her almost forgotten burger; there was a little unnoticed grease on her chin... Stick was already tenting his jeans, long since, but he decided to wait a while and see what developed. "Slide up, Babe, to the edge, so I can get at that thing." Mary did so, and Stick snaked his middle finger along her gash. Pressure from her position had opened her puffy outer lips; the inner ones weren't much to speak of, and went with them, leaving her open, damp slit available over its full length. Stick drove a finger through her opening, getting it good and wet with her juices, and then shifted up and found her clit without effort. "Ooooohhhhh..." The burger went back on the plate, and Mary started wrestling with her blouse. "Uuuuummmmmm!" Stick chuckled. "Ditch the skirt, too. It'll only get wet." The power thing was a kick; Mary was more than ready, and was taking instructions just like the bitch on the screen. Mary hesitated. "I'll be naked..." Concern over her weight held her back. "That's the idea," Stick prompted. "You want some dick -- or even some more fingers -- you'll get on with it." This was sort of new for both of them. Stick wondered what Mary would do, and Mary wondered what Stick would think of her, but, ultimately, she slowly dropped it all and settled back onto the couch arm. Stick got up and moved the leftovers, then sat on the coffee table so he could see what he was doing, alternating his exploration of Mary's open gash with glances over his shoulder at the video. "Leg up on the seat," he directed. This opened Mary up even more basically negating the covering effect of the roll of flesh that sat above her chubby pudenda. Mary continued to shift her attention back and forth between Stick and the screen, her breathing heavy; her eyes widened, and Stick turned to look at the screen. On screen, another black had entered the picture. The look on the blonde's face indicated that this was a surprise, and obviously exceeded her plans for the interlude -- but just as obviously, she was going nowhere, solidly in the grip of her original tormentor. The second black greeted his colleague with a complicated handshake, divested himself of his clothing, and began mauling the blonde's floppy dangling breasts. In a moment, he began slapping her face with his half-hard cock, and with a reluctant glance for confirmation over her shoulder, she accepted it and began to suck. Mary groaned. "Awright, you're ready, I guess," Stick observed, and stopped fingering her to stand up and open his belt, but Mary took over, allowing him to return to his work. His jeans were soon open and down to his knees, which revealed his erection, since he habitually went without underwear. Mary snatched off his T-shirt and started rubbing his hard chest. Stick toed out of his Nikes and muttered, "Gimme a hand," and Mary dropped off the couch arm and put her foot in the crotch of his jeans so he could step out of them while she collected one of his small flat nipples in her mouth, rubbing his back. Nipple work didn't do a lot for Stick, they were sensitive, but more to pain than pleasure. The back rub was nice, but... "Go 'round and bend over the couch, so we can both watch the flick." Mary moved quickly; by the time he got around behind, she was bent over the couch back, legs spread wide, her wet slot peeping from below the cheeks of her blocky ass and between the spread, thick thighs. She was soaked; nothing much stopped him as he buried his cock in one stroke, despite the tightness of her hot channel. "Aaahhhh, shit that's good!" Mary was in Heaven. Stick's taking charge added a dimension; usually, she played the part of the seductress, controlling the interlude and leading her partner/victim on until they were finally having sex -- even then, she had to maintain control of herself, or she would drive her lover off by saying or doing something that threatened them too much. This time, Stick was directing and controlling things, and everything was going in the proper direction, so she could relax and enjoy herself a lot more. And when that ungodly long cock of his sank into her... "Ooooooohhhhh, God! That's sooooo good!" she agreed, hunkering down to give him her depths. On screen, the first black was taking it easy, relatively, as the second initiated another choke-fuck. The blonde, now on all fours, really had nowhere to go as he drove himself into her, holding the back of her head. Mary watched her throat distend as she managed to actually take his length every few strokes -- just as obviously, it wasn't always possible, even given his grip, for the big black to force it in there EVERY time. When things were going fairly well for the second black, the first stopped his easy stroking and backed off for a moment -- but only long enough to reposition and began driving his shaft into her unprepared anus! The blonde's eyes rolled, trying to look back, and she let out a gurgling scream around the member invading her mouth -- but she was pinned. The black in her mouth slapped her, apparently for inattention, so she resumed working on his erection, obviously distracted by the long cock distending her unprepared ass... Stick thought that the whole thing was damned rough, but it WAS seriously hot action... Mary's pussy was a hot oil bath, and he wasn't going to last long. In a moment of inspiration, Stick wet a finger and took it to the rosette of Mary's exposed anus. It took about a second for the tip to pop through the opening, and Stick was lucky to be alerted by Mary's loud inhale; he lurched forward, burying his cock while reaching around to cover the fat girl's mouth while she screamed bloody murder in orgasm, both her holes pulsing madly about Stick's buried cock and his finger. Stick hung on grimly, grunting, unable to escape her pulsing wet grasp as it teased the semen out of him in huge gouts. "Fuck!" Mary had been absorbing the brutal act on screen, while feeling Stick's wonderful meat moving in her, and had risen to a plateau that she thought she might be able to enjoy for some time, but the probe at her ass pulled her right into the movie and she exploded! A wash of stars obscured the video as a cum that seemed to go on and on struck her, extended by Stick's pulsing delivery of hot spunk into her quivering pussy. This was the single most incredible cum she'd ever had; collapsed over the couch back, she began to babble, "Ooh, Baby, promise me you'll do that every day! Oh, God, you're soooo good! I wanna have that all the time..." Abruptly, she came to herself, and looked fearfully over her shoulder, "Uuuhhh, sorry -- I got carried away..." But Stick was grinning from ear to ear, rubbing her blocky ass with both hands and wheezing. "Don' worry 'bout it! I sure don' want to have to do without this shit any too often! Damn!" He pulled out, causing a line of cum to drizzle down her leg, and leaned over the couch beside her, careful to avoid rubbing his oversensitive and gooey cock on the couch back. "Why don't you gimme a kiss, an' in a minute we'll see if we can't do round two without the flick?" ------- Chapter 7: The Leopard Wears New Spots ... Which brings us to Wednesday morning. Sharon got up and saw Nora off to school, then began preparing for her meeting with Armand, basically acting as though she was headed for the electric chair. The last few days had just been too much to take in; she didn't see how she was going to handle it. Nora had spent a lot of time trying first to get herself and Nate out of hot water over viewing the videos (Sharon's own offhand remarks, augmented by some comment from Armand, had given the pair the impetus, apparently, so she let it go), then trying to offer emotional support which didn't really take. Sharon felt that Nora was saying the right things, but didn't feel them, and that just didn't help. Nora hadn't been there, and wouldn't understand until she had, Sharon figured. Reluctantly, she got in her car and made the trip to Armand's offices in the City. Charlene announced her, but Armand made her wait a half hour, as usual -- all part of the program. Finally, Charlene looked up and nodded, "You can go in now." Sharon braced herself, and opened the door. "Sharon." Armand nodded at a chair, which Sharon took, gingerly. Watching her, you'd think she was in a snake pit. This was odd; usually, Sharon attempted aplomb on entry, trying to set a tone of equality and maintain her self-respect and some control of the situation. Today... Armand watched her for over a minute, then fired the first salvo: "Well? You look like you're waiting for something." "I'm... waiting for the change." "You think it's a Jekyll and Hyde thing, then? Your reaction to me?" Armand steepled his fingers. "I admit it -- the videos of us were a mistake. I rubbed your nose in something that was working for you -- for both of us. And now you're ashamed of yourself." "Yes." "Why?" "I -- we -- you..." Sharon took a breath. "I'd been lying to myself; I'd come here, pretending to try to hold my own with you, and you'd shred it and use me -- and I'd conveniently forget the fact that I ENJOYED it... How you must laugh when I leave..." Armand shook his head. "It's not that simple; nothing ever is. You know why I abuse you; it has everything to do with maintaining my grip on you -- reminding you that I control our relationship. Frequently, your submission to me serves other, more instructional purposes for others. But I value your ability to continue to struggle, with no possibility of escape. Many, many women have come through that door, and you're the only one who has ever been capable of continuing the fight." "It's all a fake." Armand smiled. "No, it isn't. Every time you come through that door, the uppermost thought in your mind is an attempt to somehow maintain control of the situation and get back out of here with your dignity intact." "And every time, you kick my legs out from under me." Sharon grimaced; how long was this going to go on? Armand tried various connection patterns with his steepled fingers. "It is what I do; you know that. And you are well and truly trapped; you know THAT, too. There are too many threads in the web between us. I rub your nose in this fact, and given the length of your experience, you acquiesce, struggling to hold territory where you can. It's very admirable, really." "But then you hurt me! And -- God help me -- I enjoy it!" Sharon burst out. Armand put his palms flat on the desk and locked eyes with her. "This is not an accident. I recognized your capabilities in High School, and I trained you to realize them." He raised a hand and ticked off the fingers, "You enjoy what I do to you for three reasons: One, because you have the capacity. You enjoy sex, in a lot more ways than your upbringing allows you to believe are right. Two, because it helps you to maintain your sanity in the face of my efforts. And, three, because you have no choice -- I allow you none." He sat back. "Why do I forget the good parts? Surely that's insanity..." Sharon was certain she was insane; people who remember what they want to are delusional, aren't they? "It is a defense mechanism. If it weren't for me, you would never do these things; your upbringing would have closed you off from them and you would have met a man who only asked of you what you considered to be 'normal'. The way you feel about the 'abnormal' things we do causes a conflict with your basic persona, which doesn't want to admit you're capable of these things, let alone enjoying them. So you forget it happened that way, only remembering the battle of wills that started it and the aftermath. It allows you to live with yourself." "It did..." Sharon husked dully. Armand grunted. "Had I realized the effect of the videos, I'd have never given them to you. Now, you will have to adjust; we will have to go forward without that comfort being afforded to you. That being the case, let's talk about it. What bothers you the worst?" "Well, the forgetting..." "Do you think you will forget our next encounter? I don't," Armand declared. "It has served its purpose. It allowed you to attempt to meet the standards your parents set for you when outside this room for quite some time. But now that the self-deception has been revealed, you really have no choice other than to deal with your 'failure' to live up to their standards..." Armand crooked his fingers to emphasize the word with a visible representation of quote marks. "Why did you do that?" Sharon wanted to know. "My parents are good people!" "Yes, after their fashion," Armand agreed. "But they, also, had a habit of denial -- it is one of the things that caused you to become inextricably embroiled with me in the first place. If they'd been honest with themselves over it, they would have recognized what you were getting into and helped you escape. Instead, they sealed your fate by ignoring the warning signs because they did not fit their neat, tidy, vanilla little universe. They're the kind of fools who allowed Hitler to rise to power in Germany before World War Two -- when they see something that operates outside the bounds of the neat little box they live in, they deny its reality instead of dealing with it. Reality doesn't go away; it may ignore you, or it may not. But if you ignore the juggernaut and it does not turn aside, you will be crushed beneath it." Armand continued, gently, for him, "That box you try to live in does not define you; I know this, because I remove you from it regularly, to play. Now, you have no choice. You know that there is a door, and that it is open. It is time to come out into the real world, where things exist that are shades of grey, not just black and white." "And the enjoyment? That's really..." "Embarrassing? Humiliating?" Armand smiled. "I trained you to this; I trained you to enjoy that part of it, too. You, My Dear, are a highly- sexed woman -- one pretending to be Victorian. But Victorian women dealt with their public role by being intensely sexual in private; the disparagement that they passed upon others was always for revealing their appetites in public, not for merely having them. Blind fools copied the public piece exactly without realizing the underlying motivations of the private one, which led to poor, confused souls like you. The night I took your virginity, I recognized that you had deep responses, but were confused over them. I ensured that you enjoyed activities 'outside the box' even in preference to those you considered 'normal'. I added pleasure to pain and pain to pleasure -- and humiliation to both. It didn't take long for everything to be additive; besides, you pigeonholed everything we did under 'those horrible things he does to me', which made the paradox even easier to stomach. Since it was all going away at the end of the episode, there was nothing to stop you from relaxing and enjoying it, during. Do you understand?" "I think so," Sharon replied. "It was wrong, but I couldn't do anything about it, so..." "Exactly. And since I didn't allow you to pretend NOT to enjoy it... Part of the joy of some of our activities comes from the knowledge that they're terribly, terribly naughty -- but you're doing them anyway. You can excuse it, because I'm making you do it and you have no choice, but another part of you is enjoying being naughty." Armand again steepled his fingers. "The basic physical nature of our relationship isn't likely to change -- I have a lot of time and energy invested in you. But your perception of the physical acts WILL change; it is in my interest to see to it that when it does so, it is to something you can tolerate." Armand didn't add, 'And that meets my needs, ' but the thought was there, and even Sharon read it at some level -- but then, it was always a background consideration with Armand... This was one of the longest conversations the pair had had in some time; usually, Armand required a report on her efforts, short or long, basically with little in the way of comment, and then dispensed his gifts and punishments. Sharon sensed that the other shoe was about to drop. But it wasn't forthcoming immediately; instead, Armand sat back and announced, "Our daughter's advance into the full flower of her womanhood brings a change in our relationships. I only dimly realized this on Sunday morning, but sober reflection has brought some surprises with it." "Changes?" Sharon could not imagine how this could be good -- was Armand going to chop back their income? "I don't understand." "Did you ever wonder why I sent you away, all those years ago? I never did; it was more or less instinctive. Over the last couple of days, however, I have been presented with an opportunity to examine my motives -- and I surprised myself." "Armand, I don't..." Sharon shook her head; what was he saying? "Ummm, I assumed that it was because you were tired of me..." "Yet here you sit. See how flawed that assumption is?" Armand chuckled grimly. "No, there were two reasons: You were too much under my influence; it was interfering with your mental health. And the things that I am and do provide a poor environment for raising a little girl." "Umm." Sharon was more or less floored. "But you still see me..." Armand nodded. "Every couple of weeks. And we talk on the telephone in between. And there are other things; I know that you are aware that I have you watched -- but I doubt that you are aware of exactly how closely... Why do you think that is?" "I... don't know." Sharon thought of the thousands of times that she'd wished that she WASN'T garnering any attention from Armand -- but she'd never really wondered why she DID... "Apparently, it is because the pair of you are important to me," Armand related. "If Nora had grown up under my roof, she'd have been twisted, somewhat, by the experience. So I put you out and saw to it that you were comfortable, but not wealthy, so she would learn the value of money. I put her upbringing in your care, being only active enough for her to realize that reality extended beyond the confines of your household. As long as you had to react to me, Nora got object lessons in the fact that there are realities you cannot ignore. I allowed you to create a box for Nora -- but I held the door open, merely by holding the door to YOURS open, as it were. You nurtured her, but I provided her with reminders that everything is not fair, or sweetness and light -- but from a distance, where the reflections weren't so harsh." "Now, the process is nearing completion; she's out collecting her own experiences and making her own mistakes -- and she can stand to see the reality that is her father's world. One of the big changes this brings is that I may see her -- or, more properly, she may see me. It is too late for her to be obligated to unconditional love, so she can judge me on my own merits, based upon her limited experience. That is why we will be dining together tomorrow night, for instance. Based upon the results of that meeting, we may develop a closer relationship -- or we may not; that will be up to Nora. But I will become a more prominent force in her life, one way or another, now that she can handle it." Armand studied Sharon, and Sharon, absorbing his words, stared back. Armand cared? About Nora? About her? "This has all been some grand plan? I'm not buying THAT!" Armand chuckled. "Well, not EVERYTHING. You worry about your delusions; I recently realized that I've been deluding MYSELF, where you're concerned. The meetings that we have had in this office meet goals in that 'grand plan', but that isn't why we have them. No, the simple answer is that they are to remind you that, wedding band or not, you're MINE, both by positive and negative reinforcement. And they've been effective -- how many boyfriends have you had in the last fifteen years?" Sharon blinked. "None." "Coincidence? Think about it," Armand raised an eyebrow, smiling sardonically. "But enough of this; time for some positive and negative reinforcement. Get up and come over here and show me what rag you brought me from your underwear drawer." He grinned, asking rhetorically, "What would you do without me to clean it out for you?" Sharon sat rooted. "Armand! We were doing so well!" "Yes, we were discussing why it is that we do what we do -- but no one said that we would STOP! In fact, given your shaky condition, I find it even more imperative... Now get over here!" Secretly, Armand was pleased that Sharon was resisting; it meant that the discovery that she enjoyed the fruits of her acquiescence hadn't interfered with her basic stubbornness about the principle of the thing. Sharon actually clutched the chair seat. "No! Things are..." "Substantially unchanged!" Armand interrupted, rising and starting around the desk. Sharon leaped up and turned to retreat, then stopped. Any attempted evacuation in the past had resulted in her standing there tugging on a locked door like a little fool when Armand's hands closed upon her. She turned to look at Armand; the look on his face was all she needed. Armand leaned back against the desk, waiting. Sharon, defiance painting her features, resumed her seat -- and resumed holding herself there with both hands on the chair seat. This was good. This was very, very good. Armand stepped forward and grasped her skirt, raising it and getting a flash of pink cotton before Sharon instinctively raised her arm to contest the move. 'Big mistake, ' Sharon realized as the vise closed on her forearm. In a moment, the grip shifted, and she was in a hammerlock, unable to resist his superior strength. "Unzip me," Armand directed. "Armand..." But the pressure went on, and Sharon knew defeat. Soon, she was clumsily working at his trouser fastenings with her left hand. Habit told her what was next; she ensured that his trousers pooled around his ankles, and that he got his feet out, Armand already having kicked out of his loafers. "Suck," he directed. The pressure on her arm remained; there was no possibility of escape. She leaned forward and took in his glans, a familiar activity, now that she thought about it. He let her work for a bit, then asked conversationally, "Remember Felicia? The redhead?" "Ummm hmmm," Sharon replied, around her work. If SHE was still around, it was probably a record. By Sharon's reckoning, Felicia was due to be humiliated in front of her as a signal of her fall from grace... "Through Felicia's efforts, I've discovered that there are actually women to whom chattel slavery represents a pleasant prospect of selfless service. Isn't that amazing?" "W--," Sharon started, then shut up. 'Really?' just wasn't going to be transmitted properly with her mouth wrapped around Armand's 'thing'. Sharon couldn't visualize voluntarily acceding to Armand's demands; even if she were to appear to do so, the resistance would remain, inside. Armand took Sharon's meaning, anyway, and continued, "I was surprised, too. It isn't something I value highly, since it leaves out a facet of the relationship that I get some pleasure from, but it can be useful." Leaning back toward the desk, he hit the intercom button. "Send in the Wench." The Wench had arrived a few minutes after eleven; Jorge had delivered her to the door wearing only a hooded cloak. In fact, it was the announcement of her arrival that triggered Sharon's entrance into Armand's office. The cloak drew a few glances, given the warm, fair weather conditions, and those who cared to observe more closely noted that she was barefoot, which more or less gave the game away, but she was legal, at least. Once in Armand's outer office, she had shed the cloak and awaited her Master nude, under Charlene's watchful eye. Now, at Charlene's wave, she rose and entered Armand's office. The woman that Armand had once identified as Sharon, his ex-wife, was giving Master head, urged on by the hammerlock Master had her right arm in. The Wench knelt beside her chair in his visual field and announced herself, "Master?" "Excellent," Armand approved. "Sharon is wearing too much in the way of clothing, for my tastes. Assist her in getting out of them." Sharon let out an emphatic grunt and glared, but Armand merely fine-tuned her compliance by tightening the hammerlock, and she resumed her work. The Wench, unperturbed over the apparently involuntary nature of Sharon's blowjob, rose and began unbuttoning Sharon's blouse from behind. Sharon reached up with her left hand to grab the Wench's wrist, but she couldn't control BOTH her hands; the Wench rapidly proved herself adept at opening buttons with only one hand, so Sharon desisted. The blouse dropped easily off the trapped shoulder; Sharon resisted with her free arm, but the effort was a waste of energy. Ultimately, Armand merely increased the pressure until it became intolerable, and she suffered the removal. The bra quickly followed; soon, both were only present because they were pooled around her right elbow. 'Take charge of this," Armand directed, indicating the trapped wrist, "and remove the items." The Wench followed instructions, trapping Sharon's weakened arm in a workmanlike grip and sliding the clothing off onto her own arm. Sharon's nascent attempt to take advantage of the change was quashed when Armand put his hand behind her head and forced himself in to choking depth while collecting her left breast in his hand and applying enough pressure to remind her that it could be excruciating. "I have her," he announced, nodding, and the Wench let go and set the recovered clothing aside. Sharon deployed both hands on Armand's thighs, trying to get his cock out of her throat before she vomited. Armand bore down on the breast, squeezing and crushing. "Behave yourself." With an emphatic grunt, Sharon complied, and Armand let her get air. After a moment, he gave it another quick squeeze and directed, "Keep working." Sharon, the fight leached out of her for the moment, resumed bobbing over his erection. Armand glanced up at the Wench, "Remove the skirt, heels, and panties. Leave the stockings and garter belt." He gave the fistful of Sharon's hair he'd collected a good jerk, and said, "YOU will not resist." Sharon looked up, eyes full of fear; this was new! While she had occupied the room with another woman any number of times, Armand had always limited his attention to one victim, while the other watched; never before had the other woman touched her, or vice-versa. What on Earth was going on? Meanwhile, the Wench unzipped Sharon's skirt; the next step was going to take some maneuvering room... "Remove the chair," Armand directed, while pinning Sharon's head to his crotch. Sharon took the hint, awkwardly rising first to a kind of squat, then to a bent-over position as the Wench wrestled her skirt over her wide hips. Panties came next, Armand distracting her by again forcing her to resume active suction. At this point, further struggle was a waste of time, so Sharon meekly stepped out of the pool of fabric that gathered around her ankles, and the Wench whisked it away. When that was done, Armand issued his next directive: "Spread your legs, bitch. Wench, arrange yourself on the floor on your back, feet toward me." 'Bitch?' Armand hadn't called Sharon that since they were married; with him, it was almost a term of endearment. What did it all mean? And what was the current plan? But a part of her already knew... "Squat, bitch. Wench, eat her. I want her to orgasm before I do. Rim her, too -- I'm going there next." Sharon froze, as the reality matched vague imaginings. Armand wasn't letting her back off, so she issued a series of urgent grunts. There were limits! She was NOT putting up with THIS! Armand decreed otherwise. "Wench, a couple of good chops to the back of the knees should do it, then we'll pin her however works." The Wench nodded, chopping at the backs of Sharon's knees and following through to enforce a collapse. Armand added to it by pressing down on a shoulder, and the Wench's breath tickled Sharon's pubic fur. Sharon continued to squeal and struggle, trying to get purchase to escape. Armand again tugged at her hair, engaging her eyes. "I will bind you and beat you, and THEN you will STILL get this attention! Take it! Now!" But sometime in the middle of the last sentence, the Wench's tongue slipped between her labia, anyway... Sharon froze solid, eyes distant, as she assessed the attack; Oh, Gawd, the woman knew what she was doing! Sharon knew fear. She was going to cum like this! There was no way she could avoid it, if things continued as they were! What would THAT make her? Armand could virtually read her mind -- her face showed every thought. Laughing, he chided, "No, this doesn't make you a lesbian. You like men too much. This is merely a new dimension that we're adding to your experience -- against your will, as usual... Keep sucking!" The Wench got to work on her new playground. Sharon had a weird build, which featured something the Wench had little experience with -- a wide, round ass riding big hips. The Wench's model friends had all been built on a less-robust scale -- even the seldom-encountered full-figured ones. The closest she'd been to an ass this size would have been Charlene, Armand's secretary -- and she wasn't huge by any means, despite being tall. Sharon's breasts were pretty good-sized, too, but they were roundish and didn't sag much; if the Wench was looking for more breast flesh, Sharon made a good case for 'just enough, and not too much'. The ass, however was seriously out of proportion for the rest of Sharon's frame, and led the Wench to wonder what had drawn the Master to her. The pussy revealed was a compact item, thick outer labia holding closed thin inner lips that really only thickened over the clitoral hood, under thin wispy pubes; again, the two women couldn't be more different. Sharon's vagina presented a rich musk, but a clean-smelling one; the Wench worried only momentarily what she was dipping her tongue into. Taste confirmed things; the Wench had been in rank stuff before; once upon a time at an all-girl party where everyone was stoned and one of the girls was on her way out due to drug abuse, she'd discovered a yeast infection the hard way. This was clean. It was already wet, too, and the Wench's tongue easily found an erect clitoris. The Wench wrapped her arms around the wide hips, holding Sharon in place with hands clasped along the saddle of her lower back, and proceeded to work the area with her lips and tongue. After a bit, when Sharon was showing a reaction and she knew that she was going to be able to fulfill Master's requirements, she slid her tongue up along the perineum to Sharon's sphincter, which was also clean. In fact, it was preternaturally clean; the Wench suspected that Sharon had given herself an enema before setting out to come here, which said a couple of interesting things about Sharon. The Wench circled the puckered opening with her tongue, and discovered something else -- there was lubricant there! Not a lot, but some... Sharon squatted there, waiting for the Wench to give her away. Having suffered Armand's penetration dry, and having been warned on Sunday, Sharon had taken the sensible step of taking an enema, then squirting some K-Y into her anus. Not a lot -- Armand might find it -- just a bit to make things easier when Armand followed through on his threat. THIS, however, she hadn't counted on... The Wench stopped a moment, thinking, then took a finger and pressed at the pucker. Sharon flat didn't know WHAT to do, but she had little choice, so she allowed the invasion. The Wench's finger made short work of the pre-lubed opening, worming in to the second knuckle. The Wench pulled it back out, recognizing the lubricant, and chuckled throatily, then resumed working on Sharon's pussy, pushing her tongue into the tunnel; Sharon wouldn't need a rim job -- and Master didn't need to know. Sharon, who had been basically holding her breath emotionally, if not physically (she was still somewhat distractedly bobbing over Armand's erection), relaxed, instinctively absorbing Armand's cock even more deeply. The tongue in her tunnel just added to things, relaxing her and bringing pleasure. Damn it! She was slipping over the edge... But there was nowhere to go -- no escape from the tongue that now slipped under the hood of her clitoris, directly attacking the bundle of nerves. Ohhhh, God! Armand smiled. The door was opening. God knew where it was going, but if he'd pushed Sharon far enough, she'd be able to reject her behavior, later, even if she couldn't forget it. That should be enough, with any luck -- but now, it was time to experience the surrender. This was why Sharon was still around; this ability to come in fighting and then, at some point, find pleasure, despite his violence -- or maybe because of it. He'd trained her well, but she'd been a gifted student; the dichotomy between her mental hang-ups and physical responsiveness virtually ensured that she would be unable to react any other way. Armand knew, even if Sharon didn't, that if he released her and she went out and found a 'vanilla' relationship, it would be doomed to failure; 'straight' sex would bore her rapidly, no matter how good it was. Now, he watched her eyes glaze as she drifted through the 'neutral zone' where, resistance having proven futile, she did as she was told, toward the area where pleasure took over and her body betrayed her. The Wench noticed that Sharon had ceased any active struggle and was maintaining a kind of breathless stillness while her tongue wandered here and there looking for sensitive spots. Broad laps up her channel exposing her clit from the underside had Sharon gently pressing back, so the Wench kept at it while re-applying her now lubricated finger to Sharon's ass, slowly working it in deep. Control fled. Armand watched Sharon's eyes go vacant as she absorbed the Wench's efforts, even as she began unconsciously nodding even more deeply on his buried erection. Her ass began to move, pushing back toward the impaling finger while she emitted soft moans. Sharon was into it now; there was an orgasm coming, and she wasn't going to miss it. Impaled at both ends, she imagined herself spitted, sliding back and forth on a rod run right through her. It didn't matter, though, both ends were experiencing mild pleasure, and the tongue working her clit was maddening, multiplying everything. Sharon started moaning around Armand's erection, something Armand increased the intensity of by the simple expedient of beginning to maul her right nipple with his fingers. The Wench then upped the ante, sucking Sharon's clitoral hood between her lips and directly battering it with her tongue. Sharon started squealing, pushing her mound against the attacking lips as sensation rolled over her. Suddenly, an orgasm was RIGHT THERE, inescapable -- a BIG one! Sharon's thighs shook as the muscles jumped in them; overloads flew everywhere and she whited out. Basically, she swallowed Armand's cock, while dropping onto her knees and crushing her mound against the Wench's face, which was suddenly soaked. Her anus pulsed around the Wench's invading finger, something the Wench marveled at while coping with a sudden flash-flood of juices pouring over her face from her vagina. Armand was amazed; Sharon apparently relaxed her throat enough that she even contrived to moan around his buried erection, while not even moving on it for several seconds. The lights came back on, and Sharon backed off and raised herself to escape the probing tongue while quaking through the aftermath. Armand took the opportunity to extract himself, directing, "Over on your hands, bitch -- it's time for me to get mine!" He circled the pair, settling behind Sharon, and the Wench, divining his intent, extracted her finger from Sharon's winking anus. Armand forced entry without preamble; Sharon tried lunging away, eyes bulging, emitting a whining grunt of pain, but Armand had her firmly, and she was weak from her orgasm. "Wench, raise your knees!" Armand ordered, and Sharon was further trapped. Without instruction, the Wench again clasped her hands over the saddle of Sharon's lower back, pinning her, and settled back to enjoy her ringside seat to the other woman's sodomization. Sharon took it. The initial pain rapidly gave way to less intense sensation and she shifted focus, discovering that she had an embarrassingly unprecedented view of the Wench's pubic mound, which was smooth, pinkly open, and a little damply redolent of her arousal. This exposure was orders of magnitude closer than she'd ever been to a pussy, other than Nora's while she was still a child -- and it was quite a bit different than her own, being shaven, with little to speak of in the way of outer lips, but loose, leathery inner ones -- open, at the moment. Armand leaned back to assess things. Next time (and there would be a next time), he would contrive to put something in place that would allow the Wench comfortable access to Sharon's gash, but for now... "Wench, see what you can do with your fingers, since tongue rides just got tougher." Leaning forward, he braced himself upon the Wench's upright knees, which provided some fine follow-through for the next few strokes. This also gave him a better appreciation of Sharon's predicament, which naturally led to a decision to add to it. Sharon had her work cut out for her to look away from the Wench's moist gash, given her proximity to it. The Wench was busily working her middle finger into Sharon's vagina while her thumb whirled over her clit -- a situation that was NOT ignorable, and multiplied both her and Armand's pleasure take from the anal penetration. The smell of the Wench's own arousal wafted past her nose, adding to things, making control even more difficult... The smell hit Armand, hanging above Sharon's shoulders, and he popped up for just a second, removing his right hand from the Wench's knee and placing it firmly in the back of Sharon's neck, effectively forcing her face into the Wench's wet spot. "Eat, bitch, you owe the Wench a cum!" he hissed. Choice wasn't something Sharon had. The push put her nose basically into the Wench's vaginal canal and crushed her lips to the vicinity of the Wench's clit! She couldn't breathe, and even if she did, she'd be sucking in the other woman's juices! Sharon fought to get her arms under her so she could push back, but Armand saw it coming and wrestled her wrists behind her. Once he had them, it was a matter of merely lifting them and Sharon was again pressing her face into the Wench's crotch in order to escape the pain wracking her shoulders --then he held her there, bracing for his attack on her anus by pressing against her pinned arms. "UUUuuuuuuhhhhh!" she grunted into the other woman's musky crotch, "Aaagggghhh!" "Do it!" Armand hissed, "Or you'll be in a cast for months!" "Noooooooooo! Aaaaaaaaahhhhhh!" This was a new level of evil, even for Armand! This was depraved! But the pressure was inexorable; Armand would follow through and her shoulders would be ruined, at the current rate! Carefully, she extended her tongue... Well, it wasn't THAT bad. The Wench's wrinkled lips were obviously clean; the dew in the pink slit between was already all over her face, so she knew what it smelled like -- taste was actually a bit lighter, perhaps. She took a second swipe, and the Wench emitted a bubbling sigh. Well, she'd done it, now, so she might as well try to do as Armand demanded. What did she like? Oh, yeah! She settled her lips over the bump of the Wench's stiffened clitoris and began sucking it and battering it with her tongue. "OoooooooouuuuuUUUUUUUHHHHHH!!!!" The Wench, already powerfully stimulated, went straight into orgasm, her feet dancing and twitching. Satisfied, Armand let up the pressure; Sharon was over the brink and into it now -- the need for serious coercion was past. "That's it, eat it!" he hissed, resuming his original grip on the Wench's knees and leaning in beside Sharon's ear, "Eat it good!" Sharon went straight into submission. The thumb dancing on her clit and two fingers massaging her tunnel blended with the anal pounding Armand was giving her, and seemed to hang on how well she dealt with the task before her. Every probe of her tongue had a mirror action in one or the other of her nether openings. Pleasure began to envelop her. Armand was taking his pleasure, but he knew that he wouldn't be the only one. The Wench was moaning and intermittently slurping at his balls, which tickled something incredible, and Sharon was generating a constant hum while sucking and mouthing the Wench's clitoris. The Wench started to bounce and jitter, somehow finding the concentration despite her rapid approach to another orgasm to step up her attack on Sharon's clitoris, and suddenly Sharon moaned "AAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!! UUUUUUUNNNNNGHH!!!" and all of her openings, including her ass, began to pulse. That did Armand in; the pulsing clutch caught him during a withdrawal and milked him, producing a wave of undeniable pleasure that pulled him over the top. He sank his cock deep into Sharon's rectum and began pulsing out seed while Sharon sucked hard at the Wench's clit, biting down gently. The Wench threw both arms around Sharon's chunky hips and folded up against her, burying her face in Sharon's still pulsing channel and extending what was for Sharon a wild orgasm. The women clung to one another and shuddered through the aftermath for some moments. Armand came back to himself rather quickly, as was his wont. Backing off Sharon, he gave her a playful slap on her ass, causing a pleasing shudder of the chubby cheeks, and rumbled, "Now, you two get out of here, I've got work to do!" Collecting his trousers, he sat on a side chair and roared, "Wench! Clean me up!" The Wench managed to roll Sharon off her and knee-walk over to Armand, who presented her with his cock, fresh from Sharon's anus. Sharon's thoughtfulness in preparation, however, made the task of mouthing him clean less than onerous. The effort helped her to recover before Sharon, too; she was up and shaking off post-orgasmic weakness while Sharon was still lying panting on the floor. Armand released her with a wave, pointing at Sharon. "Get her up and dressed; take her out as you both are and clean her up in Charlene's bath. Once she's on her way, have Jorge return you home. Understood?" "Yes, Master." The Wench went around collecting Sharon's clothing while the older woman slowly sat up and collected her wits. Armand had returned to his desk and was ignoring the pair. The Wench helped Sharon onto her feet, and the pair made for the door, which was unlocked, which made Sharon wonder vaguely whether it had been unlocked the whole time, after all. At the door, Sharon turned, and looked back. "Armand?" "Mmmm?" Armand didn't look up. "Why did you call me 'bitch'?" Armand glanced up. "Think about it for a while. It will become apparent." He went back to his work. Sharon, knowing dismissal when she saw it, let the Wench lead her out. ------- Chapter 8: After Action Reviews "Bitch?" the Wench queried, "I don't understand..." The pair were in the restroom off Armand's suite of offices, cleaning up. Sharon was just heading into the stall, and the Wench was arranging Sharon's clothing on the sink counter and a couple of coathooks arrayed along the wall. "What with everything that went on in there, you wanted to know about that?" Sharon sighed. She thought briefly about closing the stall door, but if Felicia -- or Wench, or whatever her name was -- wanted to talk... Besides, Charlene had said that they'd have the place to themselves. She settled herself on the toilet, and began attempting to expel Armand's semen from her abused ass. Still, did she need to talk about this with a stranger? Ah, Hell with it! "Armand hasn't called me that since we were married. It used to be almost a term of endearment..." "Oh." The Wench dampened a paper towel and began swiping at her pudenda. Semen was something she hadn't managed to collect, but she was gooey... "I can see that, from Master... It probably isn't even 'almost'." "... Which only makes things more confusing." Sharon eyed the willowy redhead. "Why did you keep it to yourself that I was lubed?" The Wench prepared another paper towel and brought it to Sharon to wipe her face with. Sharon took it, but didn't do anything with it; she was just too tired. The Wench pulled it back out of Sharon's limp grip and began wiping her face. "Master likes his fun, part of which is inflicting a little pain. Why get him excited over having a little bit of his fun snatched out from under him, when he'd already directed that I lube you with spit?" She eyed Sharon sidelong, "Do you always do that?" "No. Armand told me Sunday that he was going to have me anally today. You never know when he's telling you something just to mess with your mind, but I figured a little preparation wouldn't hurt. Usually, he doesn't warn me about what he's going to do." She eyed the Wench, who had finished and leaned back against the sink counter, apparently thoroughly comfortable with nudity in front of another woman. "So, you live with him now?" "I'm the lowest of the low in my Master's house," the Wench replied, "while you are its Mistress." "What?" exclaimed Sharon. "I've never been in the place! And I probably never will!" The Wench shrugged. "Perhaps." Sharon obviously didn't see it; so the Wench let it lie. "I'm a convenience for Master's guests, and an occasional vessel for his pleasure, when no one else is available. My position isn't exalted." "He doesn't keep many," Sharon returned. "You're the only one I'm certain of." Almost, she was jealous... "The house is fully staffed," the Wench returned, frowning in thought. "I can think of at least one other -- one of the maids... Master offered me my present position because he considers me a broken thing, someone he damaged too much to return to the wild. I disagree -- I've found something fulfilling..." "Sounds wonderful," Sharon rasped, rolling her eyes. "I was his vessel -- still am, occasionally, obviously. But I didn't cater to guests... In fact, I've watched or been watched by others, but never..." She busied herself with wiping herself to cover embarrassment. "Had someone else participate?" the Wench chuckled. "I'm not sure what that is all about -- but Master planned it. I was called for, specifically." She eyed Sharon, birdlike, "Why do you continue to come to him?" Sharon rose, flushed, and walked to the sink. "He calls, I come. There are a thousand reasons, chief among which is that he doesn't really allow me any choice. And if I weren't already thoroughly bound, there is our daughter..." "Do you love him?" "WHAT?" Sharon was thoroughly taken aback, but was uncomfortable with the second wave of emotion that went through her. "We have... a lot of history. But love?" She shook her head, more in confusion than anything else. To change the subject, she asked, "Do you, uhh, do women much?" The Wench grinned. "Sometimes. Women are gentler. They can be fun, and they're safe, and you can snuggle and talk girl talk afterwards. But they won't replace men. Even -- or perhaps especially -- men like Master." She tilted her head, and added, "You're not ruined, either." "I suppose not. But why do you suppose he decided to do this today?" Sharon's panties had disappeared; well, it wouldn't be the first time. She stepped into her skirt. "There have been some recent changes, haven't there? And maybe more in the offing? I think Master is 'shifting his grip' on you -- giving you new things to think about. Making some kind of point, perhaps." "Maybe. It makes sense. I think he's trying to secure things against changes to come, maybe." Sharon worked her way back into the bra. "I think so," the Wench agreed. "Certainly, it had nothing to do with me -- Master has MY destiny firmly in hand." "He's had MINE for longer than I care to think about," Sharon grunted, working on her blouse buttons. "But things are changing. That Master will do whatever he feels improves his position is a given, but it is also possible that he was working to improve YOURS." Sharon was down to primping. Fishing out a comb, she began trying to get her hair in order. "Maybe. It certainly seemed like it." Then she turned on the other woman, suspicious. "How much do you know?" The Wench lowered her eyes. "Quite a bit. I know he sent you videos of several old sessions, and that viewing them fostered quite a bit of unhappiness in you. I know that his intent is to remind you that the situation is basically unchanged -- only your perception of it differs." Sharon glared. "How... ?" "I was present when he got certain surveillance reports." Sharon's imagination went wild; those sessions -- the ones where she was making very certain that Armand knew she'd followed instructions! Gawd, how much had she seen? She blushed crimson. "I was... following instructions. He made this horrendous threat..." "I know." The Wench didn't pursue it. "The point is, I think he was trying to prove to you that whether you deal with it or tuck it away, you still have a relationship. And your basic methods of dealing with him probably won't change, either." "Why do something new, then?" Sharon put away her comb and motioned toward the door. The Wench preceded her out it and into the anteroom, collecting her cloak and swirling it around herself on the way out. "I don't know; I think it was instinctive. Perhaps introducing some change was a way to trigger a deeper analysis of the situation in you. It couldn't quite be the same old thing..." She pondered, "Master is subtle." Sharon punched the elevator button, wondering vaguely why she was being so open with this woman. "Sticking his 'thing' in my ass is NOT subtle!" "The action may not be, but why... THAT might have several reasons besides the obvious." "I guess." The elevator dropped fourteen floors in silence, opening upon the lobby. Sharon, who was going on to the parking garage in the basement, made no move, but the Wench got out, backing away with a curious genuflection. "Goodbye... Sharon." "Goodbye, Felicia." The Wench stepped forward and caught the elevator door. "My Master has seen fit to change my name. I am merely the Wench, now, until he again changes it." "Armand can and will do as he pleases," Sharon replied, "but I'm not required to play his games when he is not present. Goodbye, Felicia." The Wench stepped back smiling. "Goodbye." The elevator closed. ------- At school, the entire cluster gathered early. Stick and Draper arrived first, both looking altogether too pleased with themselves. Tenisha arrived next, Draper's greeting leaving no doubt as to the source of his mood. Nora arrived next, and approached the trio cautiously, but Tenisha welcomed her warmly. "Hi, Hon. How goes the wild animal training?" "It has its ups and downs," Nora quipped, provoking chuckles. "At least I don't tease bears!" "Teddy bears," Tenisha retorted. "Big cuddly teddy bears." Draper rolled his eyes and looked mildly put upon while Stick smirked. But a glance up from Draper caused Stick to move on without comment as he followed it to discover Mary as she hove into view, looking somewhat the worse for the wear. "You look wasted," Tenisha observed. "I didn't sleep much," Mary replied, flicking a glance at Stick. "But it was worth it." Nate's Chevette rattled into the parking lot. "That thing's on its last legs," Draper observed. He swept his eyes to Nora. "Sometime, he's gonna do the breakdown thing with you -- only it'll be for real!" There was a general chuckle. Nate was tentative as he approached, "Sorry, Baby." Nora enfolded him in her embrace. "Well, it wasn't good, but we survived, I think." Mary pricked up her ears, but Nora waved her off before her mouth opened. Nate merely closed his eyes and absorbed the cuddle. Mary shifted her attention to Stick, asking quietly, "When did you leave?" Stick's reply was equally quiet, "'Bout three. Hadda go change clothes. You was deep in..." "You should have awakened me..." "Nah. Woulda jus' disturbed ya. As it was, I got plenty -- didn't know what to do wit' myself, sleeping on a good mattress. Came wide awake." He shifted his attention, "Hey, Ted." Teddy had been approaching warily; now he closed more confidently. "Hi, Stick, hi Mary. How's it going?" "Oh, fine, fine," Mary replied blandly, doing a self-assessment. She was going to need a nap, but... "What are we doing tonight?" Teddy's demeanor eased up quite a bit. "I don't know -- a movie?" "Okay. No need to do anything wild, though -- we could just hang out at my place..." Mary was walking a tightrope, here. It was important that Teddy not go to more financial effort than Stick, whose resources were limited. But she couldn't appear to be setting a trap for Teddy, either. Stick's "Mary's got movies," and the accompanying wink didn't help. Mary contrived to surreptitiously kick him in the instep. Teddy started looking anxious, so Mary added, "Take a look and let me know what's on. We'll decide then." The bell rang, and the group started shuffling toward the door. Mary held Stick back; Teddy had moved off, nodding absently, no doubt thinking about where he could get a movie schedule. "We have to take it easy on Teddy," Mary remonstrated. "You know how anxious he gets around me. To him, my place is a bear trap." "Yeh, I forgot." "Still, if you can get him to feel more confident, it'll be easier. You know, remind him it's a competition..." Mary eyed Stick sidelong. Stick grunted. "Is it?" Mary shrugged. "Well, yeah, to a certain extent. If you two settle out and I have to choose..." "This shit's complicated," Stick groused. "Why should I shoot myself in the foot?" "You need to play fair," Mary teased, tweaking his nose. "Besides, it might keep peace in the family." "Whose family?" Stick rubbed his nose. "Ours," Mary passed over her shoulder, then moved off through the crowd. ------- Teddy and Stick contrived to stand together at gym class. "Fuckin' dodge ball sucks," Stick muttered. "At least you can get out of the way," was Teddy's distracted rejoinder. "How did last night go?" "Decent. Helped her with her math, then we had a couple of burgers an' watched some of Mary's porn collection." "So you..." "Yeah, twice." Stick grinned. "Look, Man, if you're worried about her runnin' things, then YOU gotta step up. If you're controlling things, she won't bother. An' things will go your way..." "Well, this isn't last Saturday." "No, but you got last Saturday under your belt. An' just 'cause I ain't standin' there... 'Sides, it's kinda a competition. You can't win if you don' play..." The pair leaped left to avoid an oncoming ball, Stick nearly bowling over the smaller Teddy. When they had settled to warily awaiting the next attack, Stick added, "Under the original plan I'm supposed to keep her off you, an' you're supposed to keep her off me. I'm doin' my job -- you gonna cover my ass, or what?" "Yeah, I got it. She just..." "She just nuthin', Man. You been in her crib, an' you got more time on the ground wit' her than I do! She won't bite!" Stick grinned and glanced sideways, "But she might suck..." Teddy grinned in spite of himself. "Yeah..." The pair leapt to the right. ------- Later, in the locker room, Teddy turned to Stick. "What about the other thing?" Stick toweled his leg. "Talk to Mary. I figure we'll do Friday night. Cool?" "Cool." Teddy left it -- it seemed fair. They'd get to talk, if nothing else... ------- The girls sat for lunch. Mary opened with, "Nate's in the doghouse already?" "Not really," Nora sighed. "He was actually trying to be helpful when he stuck his foot in it." "Oh?" "Yeah." Nora looked around a bit. "I told you about the videos, didn't I?" "The ones your Daddy made of him abusing your Mom?" "Yeah. Those videos." "Okay, so?" Mary eyed Nora sidelong. "Well, Mom apparently went ahead and viewed a couple and, well, freaked -- so I sneaked a disk into my room and Nate and I scoped it out to see what was so awful..." "Holy Shit! You're kidding me, right?" "Huh! Wish I was! Nate and I watched two scenes, and they were hot, even if it WAS Mom and Daddy! Basically, they were everything Mom said they were -- Daddy is, well, seriously rough and kinky. But the really weird part is that Mom would start out trying to keep things from getting out of hand, but ended up enjoying it!" "Damn! Really?" "Yeah... And that's what weirded Mom out. You see, she never remembered the good parts! She'd go see Daddy, and he'd rape her, basically -- wild shit, tying her up and just doing whatever came to mind, I guess -- and she'd remember being taken against her will -- but she WOULDN'T remember breaking down and enjoying it! Then along comes the evidence, in living color!" Nora shook her head. "Well, Mom wasn't thrilled with THAT discovery. And Nate, well, let the cat out of the bag, trying to console her..." Mary couldn't suppress a snicker. "Oh, shit!" "Yeah. Worse, Mom has to go see Daddy today! She's a wreck!" Nora grimaced, "I spent three or four hours trying to settle her down, but she still hadn't gotten a grip when I left for school this morning." "So, how much did THAT cut into your love life?" Mary quipped. "Ummmmm, not a lot. We did it twice while we were watching the videos." Nora looked pensive. "I think I might be a chip off the old block." "Huh?" "Well, we were watching this scene... Daddy had Mom all tied over a desk and was doing her doggy-style while spanking her ass. Well, Nate was doing me the same way..." "No! Nate popped you on the ass?" "Uh huh," Nora nodded. "He wasn't going for cherry red like Daddy -- he just liked the ripples from what he said afterward -- he loves my ass, you know." Mary grinned and shook her head. "So I let him do it. And it was okay -- I enjoyed it..." "Sounds like he took it easy..." "Well, he did. But it still stung, kind of built up slowly. Every time he'd hit me, I'd clench, which would make THAT part better, and the sting -- I dunno -- it just seemed to add to things..." "Well, don't feel bad. Maybe it's a female thing -- one nobody mentions much," Mary opined. "I convinced Stick that maybe he ought to run things last night -- we were watching this 'Blacks on Blondes' flick, Big Black Dudes Dominate White Slut stuff, you know?" Nora didn't, but she nodded, anyway. "Stick started out reluctant, but once he got into the swing of things, well, it was nice not having to concentrate on running a seduction..." Nora shelved the basic question as a new subject had revealed itself, "So Stick came back for seconds?" "Uh huh." Mary grinned. "There'll be thirds, too. And I've got Teddy tonight, unless he sprouts some serious feathers." Nora worked hard to conceal surprise. Of course, both of the boys could have decided that any pussy was better than none, in which case Mary was on the short route to unhappiness. Besides, there was the other issue... "What about their little thing?" "We're looking at Friday night for another big get-together," Mary replied. "I'm starting to get a read on Stick; Teddy is the bigger question." "You know," Nora opined, "keeping both of them is unlikely, at best. Even if you do, it's a share with their relationship. And they're never equal." "What if I come out on top on both sides?" Mary challenged. "You'll probably be unable to deal with it. Keeping both of them happy? They aren't even anything alike..." Nora frowned. "I'd be afraid that it would look really good, then crash and burn, fairly quickly." "You sound like my mother," Mary grumbled. She assumed a nasal whine, obviously mimicking her mother, "All those two want is between your legs -- especially that black boy! And when something else better comes along, POOF! They'll be gone! I expected better of Teddy..." Mary dropped the impersonation. "Yada, yada, yada. What the fuck am I SUPPOSED to do?" Obviously, the dissenting opinion had been expressed. And equally obviously, Mary was going to do what she thought would bring her happiness. Time for a true friend to shut up. Nora shrugged. Who was she to talk? Nate was pretty questionable, in most circles. At least Mary had a back-up, if a weak one. And maybe one -- or both -- of them WAS the real deal. Nora pasted on a grin. "So, your social calendar's pretty full, huh?" Mary perked up, "For once." "Better enjoy it, then," Nora laughed. "Oh, I am! Boy! Am I!" Mary laughed. "You get Nate all trained, and you'll start to have competition, too!" "They had their chance," Nora replied, preening. "Some girl tries to get Nate, I'll sick Daddy on her. She'll be dating men 'round the clock -- in the red-light district!" She giggled. Mary looked scandalized, then she giggled, too. Then she leaned forward, "We're gonna have to plan a girl's night! I'd sure like to see one of those videos!" "Maybe I should check out 'Blacks on Blondes!'" Nora quipped. The pair moved on to other subjects. ------- Nate, Draper, and Stick gathered as usual after school for basically the first time since Prom weekend. "So, what'cha doin' tonight?" Nate opened up. "Dunno," Draper replied, "Hit the books, I guess -- gotta Civics test tomorrow. You?" Nate shrugged. The big uncertainty in his life was how long he was going to be in the doghouse over running his mouth the previous night. Nora hadn't treated it as that serious, but... "Hang out, I guess. Go see if ol' man Johnson has any piece work." "No date?" Draper interjected. "Nah. Nora's Mama got kinda excited last night..." "Yeah?" Draper looked sympathetic. "Usual shit?" That Nora's mother should be pissed over her dating a bruthuh wouldn't exactly be a surprise... "Not like that," Nate amplified. "More about her than me. I said sumpthin' when I shoulda kept my mouth shut." "Bad?" Stick wanted to know. "I sure as shit hope not..." Nate mused. "Nora didn't seem TOO pissed. I think we're jus' gonna wait for it to blow over." He turned to Stick, "What 'bout you?" "See if I can find my laundry, I guess," Stick replied. "It's Teddy's night with Mary..." "Man, I don' get ANY of THAT shit..." Nate muttered. Stick rolled his eyes. "What's to get? Been over it a coupla times..." "Fat Mary..." Draper looked perplexed. "Fat Mary turns out to be pretty sweet. An' she fucks like a mink!" Stick retorted, irritated. "And Frick?" Nate raised an eyebrow. "Teddy keeps her from gettin' all emotionally dependent. I fuck her, an' she turns the eye on me, then he fucks her, an' she looks his direction..." "How long's THAT gonna last?" Draper wondered aloud. "Not long... Hey, FUCK y'all! Mary's ass ain't no bigger than Nora's!" Stick started working up a head of steam. "Awright, awright! We're jus' surprised, is all!" Draper placated. "Yeah, well, nobody's perfect -- an' that includes 'Nisha!" Stick ranted. "Mary's a good shit; if I decide she's gonna be my main squeeze, that's 'tween her an' me!" If Stick had unloaded on Nate, there would have been a fight, but Draper was the cooler head of the group; he just grunted. "Awright, cool. That gonna happen?" "It might." Stick was still touchy. "Looks ain't everything. 'Sides, she's pretty in places." Even Draper nodded, there -- it was one of the things that made Mary grotesque. She had a very pretty face, nice hands and feet. Only her midsection was out of hand... "An' she treats me good -- ain't a lot of women 'round here standin' in line to do THAT!" "An' Frick the Prick?" Nate prodded. "Ted's almost a charity case. Let him alone. Little shit don't get nuthin' from nobody. He's gotta dick, too, the poor fuck." "Cain't be much," Nate opined. "You'd be fuckin' surprised! It ain't much for length, but I tol' him I was gonna sic Beulah on him! Fucker's damn near as big around as a soda can!" "Jeezus! No shit?" Nate was rocked. "No shit. He's gonna have a helluva time finding pussy he can pop on the first pass. That dick's made for sloppy seconds!" "Huh! I'll be a sumbitch," Draper rumbled. Then he chuckled. "Beulah'd squash the poor fuck." Stick laughed. "No shit. Even if he was on top, she'd probably pick him up an' use him for a dildo! Anyway, he's probably gonna solo tonight w/Mary. Mebbe she'll jack up his ego some." Nate eyed Stick. "You ain't worried Mary will decide to keep him?" Stick shook his head, "She had all the time in the world to reel him in. An' I'm startin' to think that she don' want to be somebody's mama. Nah, I ain't too worried. Meanwhile, he helps me keep Mary off-balance 'til I'm sure I ain't lettin' pussy cloud my judgment." This whole attitude was projection; the complications of the relationship that he couldn't talk about had Stick working hard to make it look easy. He knew that the other two smelled something not right about the whole thing, but telling them he'd been playing queer games with Teddy just made no damned sense. Maybe at some point, he'd have to own up to it -- but for now, revealing his and Teddy's little experiment before they had any results was just stupid. Nora's arrival put an end to the conversation. Nate's surprised pleasure was thoroughly alien to the face the other two were used to seeing on him; the usual expression had had large quantities of anger and frustration embedded in it. Nora reached around him from behind and rubbed at his hard chest, and Nate lit up. "Nate, Honey, would you take me home?" Nate's quick shrug and the look on his face said any other plans they might have been concocting had just gone on hold. "Sure, Baby." Draper smiled and his eyes drooped. "Later, Man." Stick nodded, amused. Nate grinned and backed off, turning to collect Nora against him as he headed off toward his car. "Pussy's turnin' Nate inta a model citizen," Draper drawled. "She ain't hurtin' him, that's fo' sho'," Stick agreed. "'Sides, Nate always was an ass man." He squinted over Draper's shoulder. "Talkin' 'bout pussy, ain't that yours, comin' up the walk?" Draper spun. Tenisha WAS coming up the walk, making no excuses for having Draper in her sights. "Huh!" Draper grunted, "Guess so." " 'Nisha ain't fuckin' around, Man. Pretty clear she 'spects you to hang around..." Stick noted. Draper watched the narrow girl cover ground. No, there wasn't much question, from the look on her face. Serious determination, there... "I ain't complainin'." Stick chuckled and turned away. Laundry tonight, it looked like. "Later, Man." "Later." Tenisha just kept coming until she was pressed against Draper, "Hey, Baby." An instant later, he was kissing her full lips. ------- Nate turned to Nora as they got into his rickety Chevette, "What do you think of Stick datin' Fat Mary? An' Frick?" Nora's raised eyebrow told Nate he was on dangerous ground. "Mary is a friend. And so is Teddy." "Well, so is Stick!" Nora waited him out. "Well, we gave Stick some shit over it..." "And?" "Sounded like he might be serious. He got all pissy about it." "That's bad?" Nora eyed him askance. "Shit, I dunno," Nate replied. "F-, uh, Mary ain't considered a catch..." "Neither am I," Nora pointed out. 'Fuckin' up by the numbers, ' Nate thought. "Yeah, okay. Stick got all defensive, pointin' out alla her good parts..." "Like?" "Like she's got a pretty face. Like she's a good shit..." "Did sex get mentioned?" Nora inquired archly. "Well, yeah, but it was downplayed. Stick was tryin' to impress us with other shit." Nate frowned. "Huh! He IS serious!" "How can you tell?" "Well," Nate glanced across at what he'd come to think of as his woman. "Uh, a fuck's a fuck. It's the big thing. You brag about it. You say shit like, 'Oh, sure, she's skinny, but she fucks like a mink! I did her three times last night, once in the ass!' Shit like that. On the other hand, if the chick means something to ya, you start justifyin' it by talkin' about other stuff -- how sweet tempered she is, or how she puts up with your shit, that kinda thing. Stick was busy doin' THAT stuff." Nate frowned. "But then there's Teddy. Sumpthin' ain't right. I don't see where Stick owes him ANYTHING, much less a piece o' Mary..." "What's he said about it?" Nora, knowing what the issue really was, wanted to know how it was being represented. "Oh, things. Early on, it was him an' Teddy keepin' Mary confused over who to sink her claws inta. An' how she wants so much dick she's hard to keep up with. Now it's all about how Teddy is a charity case an' he's lettin' Mary prop up his ego." Nate shook his head. "There's sumpthin' else there..." "Maybe," Nora agreed cautiously. How could she defuse this? "So," Nate grinned, "Is Mary usin' Stick for sex?" "Well," Nora chuckled, "it's no secret that Mary's been trolling for a boyfriend. From what she says, based on their first couple of outings, Stick is a prime candidate. But Stick helped her crack Teddy's shell Saturday night, something she'd been trying to do for a long time. She's confused, all right." "Things won't last, the way they are," Nate opined. "No, they won't," Nora agreed. "I told her so, too. She's seeing Teddy tonight -- that might tip the balance, one way or the other." "I don't understand why she hasn't already made up her mind..." "Well, she says they both have good things about them -- but they're very different, so direct comparisons are hard." Nora had a flash of an idea. "You know, Mary hasn't had a whole lot of luck. If she settles on one and dumps the other, and it doesn't work out..." "Oh, I gotcha. She's fucked herself outta the other one. That makes sense..." Nate frowned. "It still don't explain why they put up with each other." "Well, if Stick tolerates Teddy, doesn't that say good things about him?" "Maybe." The idea made some sense, but Mary'd have to have been some prime stuff for Nate to see THAT kind of effort as worth it. From where Nate sat, she wasn't, whether she was Nora's friend or not. Maybe that Pinkersley bitch... Claudette Pinkersley was a regular Ice Princess -- the dude who finally broke the lock on HER chastity belt would probably have to jump through all kinds of hoops -- but Fat Mary? Nate was an ass man, but Mary's didn't qualify; her blocky slab of an ass bore little resemblance to the round, plush flesh Nora exhibited. But at least it was some kind of excuse for Stick's behavior... Nate wheeled the car into Nora's driveway, still pensive -- but in a moment, he realized that he had another worry: Was this JUST a ride home? "Say, uh, am I welcome?" Nora chuckled throatily, "Well, as far as I'M concerned you are -- but there's no telling what state Mom's in. You know she went to see Daddy..." Realizing that she hadn't produced a clear answer, she murmured, "Let's try it. Keep your head down!" Nora grabbed her books; Nate collected his and followed her in. On the surface, things hadn't changed much. Sharon sat at the kitchen table, a glass of iced tea before her. She looked up to see Nora enter the house, her boyfriend almost comically trying to hide behind her, and nodded warily. Nora took this as a good sign; Mom had been a lot more shaky-looking when she'd left for school. "Hi, Mom." She advanced into the kitchen. "How did your visit with Daddy go?" Nate winced; he wasn't sure he wanted to hear... Sharon affected a look of exasperation and rolled her eyes, "Film at eleven..." Nora giggled, and she smiled in return, her eyes shifting to acknowledge Nate. The smile didn't go away, so Nate figured maybe she wouldn't flake on him. "It was... different. And it was the same." Nora pulled up a chair; Nate got fidgety. "Sit down, Nate -- you know everything else..." While Nate seated himself gingerly, she took a swig of tea. "Your father and I talked for some time; he's got something up his sleeve that he hasn't revealed, but he DOES say that giving me the videos and pressing me to watch them was a mistake. On the other hand, he made it VERY clear that dealing with it was MY problem; although he plans some unspecified changes, in general, the basics will remain as they have been." "Meaning?" "Meaning that he owns me, no matter what the divorce papers say, and he will continue to prove it, periodically." "Why don't you fight it?" Nora asked. "I DO, every time I enter that office!" Sharon shook her head. "Apparently, one of your father's big concerns is the idea that I might STOP fighting him!" She shrugged. "It's useless, you know -- there IS no escape -- but I can't just go meekly in there and let him do whatever insane thing he comes up with to me, even if I end up discovering that it wasn't all that unpleasant. I just HAVE to fight a little. Besides, sometimes it works -- or he's distracted by some OTHER poor victim." ------- Armand, watching on the closed circuit monitor in his office, relaxed. Sharon seemed to be doing well. He'd give her a day or two before moving on to the next phase and pressing her again, but things looked okay. Besides, he needed to have a talk with his daughter, first. ------- "What else happened?" Nora queried. "Well, we talked about YOU for a bit. It seems that your father absented himself more or less deliberately from us in order to ensure that you were raised in a proper environment. He told me that even he didn't really think about it until a few days ago, but that many of the things he does to and for us were to see to it that you didn't get 'twisted'" -- Sharon's fingers came up to add quote marks to the word -- "by either one of us at an early age..." "Twisted?" "His word," Sharon shrugged. "I can easily see that his household might be a poor environment for a little girl, but your father had the nerve to announce that in his own way, he protected you from ME!" The more Sharon thought about it the more indignant she got... "Oh?" Nora was somewhat awash. "According to HIM, I was raised to live in a fantasy world, where everything was sweetness and light -- so he harassed me and kept the purse strings tight so you would realize that there was a cold, cruel world out there... What bullshit!" Nora sucked this in without evaluating it -- she'd go over it later, perhaps after talking with her father... After a moment, the implications of THAT thought process reached out and slapped her; maybe Daddy DID have an influence on her, after all! Why else would she wait to hear the other side of the story before evaluating it? Meanwhile, Sharon continued, "Your father claims that he watches us a lot closer than we've ever realized -- and that, believe it or not, it's because he CARES for us! I guess he's never heard of voyeurism..." Nora raised an eyebrow. This was the first indication she'd ever gotten that her mother had heard of the term! More grist for the mill... "Well, he's surprised me four times in four days..." Sharon shook her head; confusion was putting a cap on her anger. "Apparently, he has us watched twenty-four hours a day. According to him, the only possible explanation is that he has a serious interest... Proprietary, it might be -- but loving? I'm not sure your father knows anything much about love..." She rubbed at her face. "Anyway, things have changed. Your relationship," -- Sharon flicked a glance at Nate -- "indicated to your father that you have reached adulthood, and were capable of dealing with his brand of reality. So from now on -- when it's too late -- he's going to be a lot more visible. Isn't that nice?" Sarcasm hung heavy in the air. Nora didn't rise to the bait. Instead, she asked, "Was that it?" "No, then he proceeded to rape me again -- for my own good, of course! And THIS time, he brought in some woman to help!" Sharon shifted from outraged to pensive, "THAT was DEFINITELY new..." She raised an eyebrow, "I suppose you want details?" Nora did, but she knew better than to approach it directly. Instead, she asked, "Do you remember them?" "Yeah," her mother sighed, "I remember." She glanced at Nate, but he'd SEEN her for God's sake! "I remember cumming, twice, towards the tail end of things. But it's REALLY embarrassing -- I don't think I can talk about it." "Worse than usual?" Nora was sympathetic. "Yeah." There was NO WAY Sharon was going to tell ANYBODY about licking some woman's clitoris -- or having hers licked by one, for that matter! And especially not with Nate around... "Okay." Mom seemed to be handling things well, despite the fact that Daddy had apparently changed-up on her in some way. Nora rose. "We'll be upstairs." Nate took his cue and followed. Sharon nodded. As they hit the stairs, she yelled, "Is Nate staying for supper?" Nora glanced at Nate and he opened his mouth, but before any sound came out, Nora answered, "Yes!" Nate blinked and shrugged; some day he was going to have to assume control around here -- but today didn't seem to be it. He followed the sway of his lover's ass as she ascended the stairs. ------- Chapter 9: The Amazing Teddy As Nate, Stick and Draper separated in the parking lot, their prime subject of conversation lounged on the steps awaiting her diminutive date. Mary deliberately made herself visible in the vicinity of the main entrance in order to avoid giving Teddy an excuse to assume the evening was off. But Teddy came right up to her without any obvious reluctance, even though the initial subject of conversation was a bit embarrassing. "Hi, Mary." "Hi, Teddy." Mary turned toward the parking lot, and Teddy fell in beside her. "So, what's on at the movies?" "I don't know. I got to thinking. Maybe we, uh, don't have to go out. What did you and Stick do?" If it had been Stick, she'd have probably pretended to be indignant over the idea that she wasn't good enough to be seen in public with him, even if she let him off the hook immediately thereafter -- but it wasn't; Teddy had been actively nervous about going to her place, so this represented a step in the right direction. "Well, we did homework, and I cooked him a burger. We watched some videos, and well, you know what else..." "Yeah," Teddy knew. What made it all right was the fact that it was certainly on the list of tonight's activities -- that and the fact that everyone, Teddy included, wanted it that way. If Teddy had thought that he was horny BEFORE she and Stick had introduced him to real sex, it was NOTHING to the itch that had built over the last three days! "Okay. We can do something like that, I guess. No need to go anywhere. It's a school night." That would be another issue; Teddy's mother was as over-protective as they come; staying late on a school night would set off all kinds of alarms in HER head... "Okay. Pizza? I'm an awful cook..." Mary stood by the door while Teddy popped the locks on his aging Corolla. Teddy did so and the pair settled into the seats, then he turned to her, "I could help..." "Best not. Your stock isn't so high with Mom right now; best we keep a low profile." Irma hadn't been thrilled to find Mary in bed with TWO boys on Sunday morning, and there had been a looooong 'discussion' following their departure. Stick wasn't even on the tote board as far as Irma Nally was concerned; obviously, the boy was just using Mary for sex... And Teddy's somewhat privileged position had eroded considerably. "Well, I could. I DO, at home." Mary was forcibly reminded of a remark Stick had made the previous night about employing Teddy as a domestic to keep suspicions down, and it caused her to smile, "Some other time. If you're really good at it, it might be a drawing card..." Teddy gave her a somewhat bemused glance, and put the car in motion for the short drive. "Pizza's okay, I guess. What do you have for homework?" "Not a lot tonight. Some Chemistry," Mary related. "I did mine. It's not much. All I've got left is an essay; I spell-checked it, but if you could read through it for homonyms..." Any idiot knew enough to run a spell-check; nowadays, being unable to tell the difference between 'herd' and 'heard' was the kind of thing that could get you marked down on a paper... "Cool. I'm pretty good at that. Why don't I order it right away, then, and it will be there when we're done?" "All right. What do you like on it?" "Oh, I dunno. The kitchen sink, as long as it's really Italian -- no pineapple for me!" Mary averred. "Anchovies?" Teddy eyed her. "Uuhh, maybe we can get them on the side..." "No, it's okay, I was just testing you." The remark left Mary wondering what for, but Teddy's intent had merely been to see if he could press her. Since he could... "That sounds good to me." The car pulled up before the Nally home, and the pair got out, going up the stairs to Mary's private entrance. Mary's 'bedroom' was a converted mother-in-law apartment over the garage, and had a staircase to an outside entrance on the second floor. Mary proved as nimble climbing the stair on this date as she had Saturday night, despite her somewhat ponderous bulk. Teddy, following her up, eyed the jiggle and sway, realizing that he'd learned to appreciate it. Mary wore skirts habitually, for a number of reasons, including the fact that they masked a few things and that they allowed a flow of air to her nether parts, which were always a heat sink, situated between her heavy thighs as they were. Mary ran without panties whenever her menstrual cycle and other revelations like gym class allowed; exposure really wasn't an issue, with her thighs, and besides, if a guy caught her, so what? Similarly, she tended to wear thigh-highs, or even a garter belt when forced to wear stockings, but tried to time such things so that they wouldn't be detected and cause comment. Nora knew -- but then, Nora knew everything... The panty line on her jean skirt was plainly visible under the stress of the climb; today had been a gym day; both of them were wondering separately when they would come off. Mary, who was soaked, decided immediately wasn't soon enough; as soon as they were in the door, she announced, "I've got to pee; settle in there at the table, and make yourself at home. I'll be right back and we can order the pizza." "What about beer?" Teddy asked. "Ummm, you're going home, and it's a school night. If your mom detects alcohol on your breath, I'd go on the public enemies list," Mary replied. "Better not." "Okay." Teddy was a little glum; he'd looked forward to a little liquid courage. But Mary was right; after last weekend, his mother would be looking for that. He hit the refrigerator for a coke, pleased that non-diet drinks were available. Mary hit the bathroom, settling on the toilet to pee quickly and merely sliding her panties off her legs and leaving them in the floor, kicking them toward the hamper. A slightly more careful wipe than usual, and she was up and out, collecting the telephone and the menu for the local pizza delivery joint. Teddy had his stuff out and was proofreading his essay. "Hey, I thought I was doing that!" Mary reproved. Teddy shrugged and passed it over. Mary made the call, then fished out her Chemistry, and Teddy looked it over while she proofread. Time passed quickly, and pizza delivery found them just finishing up. Teddy packed his stuff while Mary got the box and snatched more cokes from the refrigerator. As Mary came back in, he hopped up and announced, "Now I've got to pee..." Mary organized the pizza and drinks on the coffee table, then started going through her videos. What should she spring on Teddy? A bi flick? No bi action tonight... Blacks on Blondes wouldn't be relevant... Shrugging, she settled on an amateurs video that she remembered being hot. Meanwhile, Teddy hit the bathroom. Due to its location against the far wall, the laundry hamper met his eye immediately -- or, rather, the pair of panties heaped against it... Teddy lifted the seat, unzipped, and proceeded to take care of business, but his eyes kept drifting back... Finishing, he tucked and zipped, but stopped before flushing, as that would indicate completion pretty clearly. He listened for Mary, and heard the soundtrack of a video start; she must be busy... He knelt and collected the panties. They were damp; Teddy experienced an instant hard-on. Cautiously, he lifted them to his nose. The aroma was unmistakable, and it made his erection diamond hard; it was a smell for which he had only one referent -- Mary's pussy. This was fresh, which meant... Teddy's head turned toward the bathroom door. Mary had shucked out of them when she came home! Teddy dropped the panties; no need to bother with them -- better was to be had! He flushed the toilet and carefully washed his hands, but Teddy was a young man in a hurry -- he was going to get laid! Again! Mary had her back to him, video controller in her hand as she fast- forwarded through the ads at the beginning of what was obviously a porn flick. Great! Apparently, they weren't going to take a hundred years getting through the preliminaries! He plopped on the couch, working to hide his erection by pulling a plate from the table and getting two slices of pizza from the box. Mary came and sat next to him, looking nonchalant, and did the same. The nonchalance was faked; Mary was seriously worried that Teddy would freak out during this stage and decide it was time to leave in a rush -- and she didn't really know how she was going to keep it from happening. Little did she know... Mary's first inkling of Teddy's true state was when he picked up a paper towel and wiped his hands, then picked up a second and laid it over her left leg -- and didn't remove his hand. He began (rather awkwardly) to eat left-handed, pretending that this was perfectly normal... A good forty percent of his attention, however, was on that hand, which was just below the hem of Mary's skirt. A lot depended upon what Mary did about it... The other sixty percent was split between the pizza and the video, which was just getting underway. The longer it continued, however, the more of the available balance of his attention shifted to it, leaving short shrift for the pizza... Mary spent several moments eyeing the hand before she realized that ignoring it was the proper reaction and shifted her visible attention to the video. She, however, was busy FEELING the hand, and wondering if/when Teddy would get brave and move it. In a bit, she needed the napkin; with a bit of trepidation, she reached down and snatched it out from under Teddy's hand. Teddy contrived to ignore this; the hand didn't move. The nice thing about amateur flicks was that the couples weren't Superdick or Supercunt. In this flick, the girl was a little oily in the face and somewhat chunky, and she had a big mole on the outside of her right breast. The guy looked a little nerdy, and wasn't showing any fourteen-inch dick, either; in fact, he looked kind of average, maybe six inches. But the girl knelt up, pulled back her thin brown hair, and proceeded to make like a Hoover on his dick, going at it like she was killing rats while he stuck his hairy legs out straight and groaned, leaning back and rolling his head around; clearly, she knew her business. Teddy leaned forward and managed to collect a second piece of pizza, left handed, then leaned back -- and his right hand slid three inches under Mary's skirt. It wasn't the slickest effort Mary had ever seen, but it telegraphed Teddy's intentions pretty clearly. Mary grinned into her bite of pizza and slid forward, spreading her legs -- ostensibly to collect her Diet Coke -- and Teddy found his hand deep in enemy territory, a warm, damp, slightly furry place... In a moment, Mary settled back, slouching against the couch backrest without moving her hips or legs, and things got even damper as the rotation of her torso exposed her pudenda. Despite the content, which wasn't bad and was much more realistic than most pornographic fare, both of them stopped doing anything more than pretending to watch the goings-on in the video. The fact that Nerdy Guy had both hands in his girlfriend's hair, driving his cock down her willing throat was lost on them both. Teddy was slowly sliding his pinky between Mary's inner lips, feeling for her clit, and Mary was tracking his progress, millimeter by millimeter. Mary was thrilled to death; Teddy was showing uncommon valor, for Teddy. Certainly, he COULD have just gone digging with his middle finger, and she'd have spread and let him in -- but that wouldn't have been Teddy. No, best not to rush it; let him cover ground at the rate that was comfortable for him, so he didn't get spooked. In a moment, he grazed her clitoris, anyway, and she sucked in a quiet gasp, but did nothing; Teddy froze for a full minute before essaying another contact, but he resumed his efforts when nothing untoward happened. Soon, he was skinning the hood of her clitoris with his pinky, something she let him do three or four times without visible reaction before she let go a bubbling sigh and let her left leg drift outward until it touched his. Once the initial trepidation at her movement was over with, Teddy recognized success and his confidence level shot up. He slowly shifted his grip until he could apply his first three fingers to her slit and picked up the tempo until his middle finger was sweeping around the base of her nub in circles while he eyed her sidelong for a reaction. He got it. Mary, still pretending to watch the video, began to slowly undulate on the couch, and moaned softly. After a minute or so, her breathing had obviously quickened, and she was starting to pink up. That's when she gave him the heart attack by reaching out and burrowing her hand under his shirt to rub his back. Teddy froze, but Mary clapped her knees together while continuing to rub his back, trapping the hand, while he rode out the panic; a gently moaned "Please..." got him past the fear and he resumed his ministrations; Mary moaned softly and resumed undulating and Teddy moved on to exultation. Mary was hamming it up a bit. Oh, sure, the fingering was good, and she'd get there, eventually -- but if she'd been concerned over maintaining her virtue, Teddy wouldn't have had a chance. Fortunately, it wasn't a concern; Mary settled back and presented her pussy for Teddy's ministrations, wondering when and how he would up the ante. Teddy was wondering about the mechanics of it, too. The surreptitious route he'd used to get this far was fine, but he was poorly positioned for follow-up; sitting on her left with his right hand buried in her crotch wasn't a prime way to bring another hand to bear, for instance. Teddy examined and discarded several scenarios before settling upon one to try; he turned and openly regarded her. Mary glanced at him, licking her lips, and he decided it was okay to proceed, so he dropped any pretense of watching the video and turned to bring his left hand to bear, sliding it up her thigh to replace the right in her moist channel. The right moved on to the fleshy rolls of her side and back, and Teddy bored in for a kiss. This was okay with Mary; Teddy was a good kisser. But she was getting clammy from all the excitement, something that wasn't going to improve her desirability, so she lurched up and snatched her blouse over her head, "Lemme get out of this..." Aside from the temperature change, the exposure was problematic, she realized -- basically, she'd exposed several unappetizing rolls without providing a visible benefit -- so the sports bra followed. Okay, her tits weren't pretty, but they WERE tits, and Teddy seemed to like her nipples... This worked; Teddy immediately leaned in and collected one, abusing it with his tongue and teeth. Mary had flattish, nursing bottle-shaped nipples that maybe weren't much to look at, but Teddy knew that they craved attention and he was happy to give it. Previous experience had shown that Mary's nipples were a powerful erogenous zone, and besides, they were fun! Teddy's action moved Mary from largely faking it to a full start; lips and teeth on one end of the connection between her clit and her nipples, and whirling fingers on the other brought an urgency that caused her to REALLY undulate and a wash of dampness in her tunnel. Teddy shifted again, sliding a finger into her depths while taking over clitoral stimulation with a thumb; after a few moments, Mary gasped out, "More fingers -- you're BIG!" and reached into his lap, fumbling at his fly. Teddy was finally ready for active cooperation; he didn't let her move shake him. Instead, he leaned in, switching to her right nipple, facilitating her use of two hands to fight with his fly. Mary groaned at the fresh stimulation and got frantic about getting access, succeeding mere moments before Teddy made up his mind to back off and strip out himself. The trap door of his briefs provided another obstacle, but it wasn't insurmountable; Mary went in over the waistband. Mary's soft hand on his cock was VERY nice, but being jerked off wasn't what Teddy was angling for. Fortunately, the same was true of Mary; she leaned over, pushing him off her breast to get the angle required to absorb his glans. The huge mushroom tip of Teddy's cock, almost the diameter of a soda can, was fully extended beyond his foreskin, bluish- purple and tightly stretched. Mary had been amazed by the thing the first time she saw it. Teddy's length wasn't anything to write home about, maybe a bit over five and a half inches, but that mushroom head was half of it! Mary's first experience with it had been reminiscent of being done with a bathroom plunger; Stick had asserted that if Beulah Tyrone (who was known for having a big, sloppy pussy, to match the rest of her attributes) ever got a hold of Teddy, she'd never turn him loose! Sucking the beast was relatively easy, though; the fat glans and the sensitive area behind it's flange were the places that demanded attention, and if you could get beyond them, there wasn't that much to absorb. Mary started laving the underside of the tip, and Teddy started desperately looking for ways to continue his attack on her as a way of distracting himself enough to last more than a few seconds. "Uuhhhh! Let's do sixty-nine!" "Okay. Ummm, here, or on the bed?" Mary glanced at the video, where the couple had moved on to doggy style, unnoticed. Teddy wasn't interested in videos tonight, though. "Bed." The pair got up and rounded the couch headed for Mary's bed, Mary stepping out of her skirt en route and taking charge of Teddy's trouser removal on arrival while he flipped his shirt over his head. After a quickly gestured negotiation, the pair settled on the bed, Teddy on top pushing Mary's heavy thighs apart to get at her labia, while she took charge of his erection. Unfortunately, it just didn't work; Mary was taller, and her pussy was tucked low with a certain stand-off due to the rolls at her midsection. Teddy needed several inches to be able to wrap around and get at her while she worked his erection. When this became apparent, Mary sighed and murmured, "Okay, Honey, why don't I do you first, and then you can work on me while you get it back? Besides, it'll be better if I turn around..." Teddy rolled off, but he was still concerned. What if Mary cooled down? "Well, okay -- but I'll play with your nipples, then, to keep you happy..." Mary, sitting up, hauled him in for a kiss. "I'll probably be well able to entertain myself with a mouthful of you! Lie down, here, and I'll get between your knees..." Teddy made the adjustment, but backed himself onto the pillows so he could lean forward comfortably and follow through with his offer to engage Mary's nipples. Mary gathered in his erection, holding the shaft with her thumb and a couple of fingers while applying her tongue to the sensitive underside of the head. Teddy, for his part, took in the view, wide-eyed; there was something about looking into Mary's eyes while she mouthed his cock that was just... incredible! The sensations were good enough, but the added feeling of -- what, mastery? -- WOW! Mary could tell in moments that she'd made the right choice. Teddy was hair-trigger; if they'd tried to fuck with him in this condition, he'd have been squirting before he got inside her vagina! This way, they could take the edge off, and enjoy the fuck to come a lot more... Teddy was waiting for the overload of the first contact to damp down, but it didn't. Mary wrapped her lips around his cock and began to suck seriously, and things continued to climb off the scale! With her lips around the flange, Mary started wiggling her tongue along the underside, and Teddy, fully engaged, lost all possibility of control! "Gonna shoot! AAAaaahhhh!" Mary, familiar with Terry's heavy ejaculation pattern, fondled his balls while he poured two mouthfuls into her, continuing to slide her tongue along the pulsing underside of his erection as she swallowed. When he settled down to mere pulses, she began cleaning him up, backing off and beaming, "My, that was nice!" "It sure was!" Teddy reached down and caught her under the arms, pulling her atop him for a kiss -- which might not have been the smartest of ideas, given their relative sizes. But Mary knew better and rolled the pairing over before Teddy paid too heavily for his mistake, and they continued the kiss with him atop her, while she reflected that it was kind of nice that he had no compunction about kissing her immediately after a blowjob. This went on for a couple of minutes, Terry mauling her nipples with his fingers while delivering some pretty decent tongue action, before he announced, "Okay, my turn!" and slid backward until he was propped up between her heavy thighs. Mary spread them, but there just wasn't enough working surface, so Teddy lifted her knees and pushed them back toward her chest, opening her up -- something he remembered from the adventures of the previous Saturday night. Once her chubby little clam was well exposed, Teddy dove in, sliding his tongue along her slot. The puffy outer lips gaped, taking the inner ones with them, and Teddy had prime access to Mary's vulva from clitoris to perineum. He dove in and went to work, and Mary gasped, reflecting that this was a whole lot braver version of Teddy than she'd ever been exposed to! Flat laps along her channel gave way to pointed attacks under her clitoral hood, then, while she thrashed from that, pointed pokes at her vaginal channel. Mary began to shade toward cherry red almost immediately, both on her neck and chest, and on her exposed pudenda. Mary was climbing the walls, but she was intent on the next phase. "Open me up!" she panted, "Two, three fingers! So you'll fit!" Teddy obliged, sliding a finger into her channel and shifting his oral attention to Mary's clitoris. Mary was soaking wet, so he added a second finger, twisting and pushing -- and Mary went over the top! "OOOOOOOOHHHH, GAWD!" Mary bucked and thrashed, her only control the fact that she was holding onto her knees for dear life. Her channel pulsed around Teddy's fingers, noticeably dampening. Teddy was pretty pleased with his efforts. He was swimming in the taste and smell of Mary's juices, and hard as a rock, despite his recent blowjob. So when Mary, fresh from her orgasm, reached down and grabbed his ears, moaning "Gimme!" he was more than happy to climb up on her and start rubbing the mushroom head of his cock in her slot! "Oooh, yeah! Come on! Push it!" Mary chanted as Teddy wedged himself in her opening. Easy, it still wasn't, however. Teddy got a good start on it, but his glans was so wide that "Force it, it'll fit," wasn't the answer. Instead, he had to apply steady pressure while Mary slowly flowered open enough to handle him, something that took a good thirty seconds while both of them held their breaths. Finally, with an almost audible pop, Teddy slid through -- and instantly wedged. That was okay, though -- he was inside, and could pump, forward until his pubic bone bashed hers, then back until the ring of muscle at her opening rubbed and squeezed the flange of his glans. It wasn't exactly long-stroking, but it worked fine, since he was working the inside of her channel and bashing her clit while getting constant stimulation to some of the most sensitive surfaces on his heavy probe. Teddy braced himself on Mary's upraised knees and started plunging, making wet, squishing sounds as he redistributed Mary's lubrication with every stroke. "Oooh, Jeezus, that's good!" Mary moaned. Teddy said nothing, merely panting through gritted teeth. He felt every fold of flesh in Mary's vagina that he could get to, because he was pressing them flat as he passed! The sensation on his sensitive glans was such that he couldn't possibly describe it -- it beat blowjobs by an order of magnitude, though! Control wasn't something he had; he was jack- hammering into Mary just as fast as he was able, battering, pounding, plunging her slot while his balls seemed to swell for the explosion to come. Mary started to shake, eyes rolling, moaning, "Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord!" as she got ready for a big one, but Teddy kept somehow finding ways to pound her faster, harder, more urgently. Mary let go of her knees and started grabbing the bedclothes, thrashing, as the orgasm he was delivering mushroomed bigger and bigger, but her knees went nowhere, because the wild thing that Teddy had become held them crushed against her while his own cum grew and grew as if his furious pumping was inflating IT, too! Then the dam burst; Teddy got about two slamming strokes' notice that his orgasm was now unstoppable, and he slammed himself into Mary with incredible force. Mary took the first stroke and screamed as the pulse in her clit set her off; Teddy's second stroke, which ended with him straining to bury himself in her to the waist drove into a vagina pulsing and shuddering in orgasmic frenzy, milking and massaging as Teddy blasted away copiously, pouring the contents of his heavy balls into her, blasting heavy shots of semen against her cervix -- shots she could FEEL, shots that granted more shuddering pulses of pleasure. Teddy collapsed across Mary, soaked in sweat, his heart hammering. Mary lowered her legs and held him, rubbing his back, purring. Little Teddy was a wild man! Who'd have thought? She played with his brown curls while he captured a nipple, gnawing it and sparking little after-image flashes of her recent incredible orgasm in Mary. Choosing between Teddy and Stick was going to be really, really HARD -- they were SO different, but they were both SO wonderful! The door flew open, and Irma Nally hustled in. "Are you okay, Honey? That scream... raised the hair on my..." Irma ran down treated to a dead-on view of her daughter splayed on her bed, naked, with a boy atop her. She stood there, her mouth opening and closing, while she absorbed the scene. If Teddy could have climbed under Mary, he would have. As it was, he buried his face in her neck. He hadn't shrunk enough yet to attempt to extract himself, and was tied to Mary as if they were a pair of mating dogs. Mary roused herself. "Go 'way, Mom. You're ruining a great moment." Stunned, Irma backed out of there, her thoughts a welter. Was that the Frick boy, again? Well, at least it wasn't that young black... And if this was twice in a week, maybe Mary had a grip on him -- not that he was any major catch... Pretty amazing that he managed to bring her to orgasm -- he can't have much... To be fair, Irma's husband wasn't any giant of a man, but he WAS surprisingly energetic -- or he HAD been, once... The incident accelerated Teddy's de-tumescence; worry over what Mary's mother thought of the whole thing brought down the size of his erection in short order, and he got antsy. Mary held him and shushed him, "Its okay, Honey. Mom will give me Hell later, maybe, but she REALLY doesn't have a leg to stand on, or she'd have duked it out right here. Just relax, and let's snuggle up." She offered her lips, and Teddy let go of the whole thing to deal with them and the hands rubbing his back and ass. ------- "Where you been, Boy?" Tabitha Adams was standing there, arms crossed over her somewhat droopy cleavage when Nate let himself into their small apartment. It was ten p.m.; Mama would normally be out working -- it was prime time, if you were trolling for Johns -- but here she stood... Tabitha glared. "Place looks like shit! You ain't spendin' a lot of time here, looks like! What're you up to, an' when are the cops comin'?" "They're not," Nate rasped, "I gotta girlfriend!" His mother looked dubious. "Her parents know?" "Yeh." Tabitha eyed her son. He had that satiated look -- one she was VERY familiar with, since her 'day' job was producing it. "You're fucking her, looks like. They know THAT?" "Yeh." The boy wasn't telling her SOMETHING -- maybe several things. She was standing here, wasting time and money on a Wednesday night, because she'd picked up whispers that he was into something -- something that might bite back. But basically, all she could see was that he was well-fucked -- and something else, actually... "Where you been eatin'?" "Girlfriend's mama feeds me." "Well, ain't YOU just hit the gravy train!" Tabitha sneered. "This silly cunt on birth control? You'll be outta school, workin' somefuckingwhere to support babies before too long, at the rate you seem to be fucking up..." "Yeh, she's on the Pill. AND we're using rubbers." Nate grimaced; he hated the fucking things. "So, what the fuck? What ain't you tellin' me? Word on the street is you might be inta heavy shit..." Oh, so THAT was it! "Well, she's white..." "No fuckin' shit? Hell, that shit you talk wouldn't get you a sista! How in Hell did it get you a white bitch?" "I got fuckin' lucky!" "Shit, I guess! C'mon, Boy, what ain't you tellin' me?" Tabitha eyed her son. "What's this white chick's name? What's her daddy's name? She got a daddy?" Nate went poker-faced. "It's Wilson. Nora Wilson. Her daddy's name is Armand." Tabitha went through her mental card file. Armand Wilson... Armand... There was a name you didn't hear often -- and she'd heard it. Where? Oh. OH! SHIT! "He a rich motherfucker?" "Yeh." Tabitha rubbed her face. Shit! Yeah, she'd heard of Armand Wilson, a couple of times, and a couple of ways. Armand Wilson was a local, but he wasn't a local criminal; no he was regional, or national. He wasn't Mob, but the local mob didn't fuck with him. Rumblings were that he was mostly legit, but you didn't cross him... Tabitha knew a couple of girls that his people had hired -- Wilson paid well, but he demanded a lot. The girls said he didn't play; they were only used by the household staff -- but it'd be a gang bang, or at least a multiple... The other side? Some of the higher-class shit -- the kinky chicks -- talked about Armand Wilson in hushed whispers. Evidently, he liked kinky shit -- and he broke in his own! Tabitha knew someone who knew someone who claimed that Armand Wilson had broken HER in... "Jeezus, Boy -- he know you're fuckin' his daughter?" "Yeh," Nate grunted. "Talked to him on the phone, Sunday. He knows 'bout me an' he knows 'bout you..." "ME!" "Yeh." "Shit. What'd he say to ya?" "Said it was all cool as long as I didn't fuck Nora over," Nate replied. "That works for me... I figure he thinks it ain't gonna last. It will, though, if I gotta say in it -- Nora's..." Nate was at a loss for words. "Magic pussy, huh?" Tabitha grinned. "At your age, ALL pussy is magic, Boy." "Nah," Nate argued, "Not like Nora!" Tabitha knew better than to argue -- the boy was either right, or, more likely, he'd learn he wasn't, the hard way. "Boy, if you piss off Armand Wilson, we're probly BOTH fucked! What'd he say 'bout ME?" "He knows ya hook, an' he knows why. I didn't have to tell him." Nate folded his arms. "So, when do I get to meet Wonderpussy?" Tabitha asked warily. "Uhhh..." Shit. Nora's Daddy knew about Mama, but Nora didn't and her Mama didn't, either. Tabitha grunted. Nate's discomfort spoke volumes, and stung a bit. "Oh. Your cum-sucking doper whore Mama ain't been a subject of conversation with Wonderpussy, has she? Well?" "No. Nora knows things ain't all that great, but..." Nate stubbed his Nike on the floor. "But little Wonderpussy's virgin ears ain't picked up what Mama does for a living, or the fact that she likes to party..." Tabitha wanted to rant about the 'ain't all that great' remark, but, well, shit, it was true; she was a piss-poor mama to the boy. "Best you tell her, I guess, before her Daddy does -- maybe that's why he ain't worried..." Nate's eyes narrowed. Shit! Mama could be right! Tabitha eyed her son. "Looka here! I wanta see this bitch! You bring her around! Best you tell her the truth 'bout me, an' soon, too! I don' wanna fuck up your love life, but you can't keep me under a box forever, an' if she finds out later, you won't look good, Boy!" "Yes'm." Mama was right; Nate knew it. If she was anything, Mama was a reader of people and situations; it was miraculous how she'd managed NOT to get fucked up by any bad Johns. No, Mama knew what people would think in any given situation, and she was an EXPERT at gauging HERS! "You SURE you're safe from Ol' Man Wilson, Boy? I can't protect either one of us from the likes of HIM!" Nate nodded. "If shit changes, you tell your Mama, so she can run -- you hear, Boy?" Nate nodded again. "Awright. I'm goin' to work. See ya in the mornin' maybe." Tabitha hitched at her skirt, sniffed, and stalked out on somewhat wasted legs. Maybe she could get a snort for a pick-me-up... Nate was already beyond her attention when she hit the door; she'd done all she could. Armand Fucking Wilson. Hey, maybe she could get a handout, bein' almost family... No, best not fuck wit' the Big Boys... Tabitha hadn't survived this long without common sense, and it kept her from fucking up -- but the thought DID stick in the back of her mind, altering her perception of how things were by continually raising that niggling awareness that a safety net just might exist that hadn't before... As a result, Tabitha was almost happy twenty minutes later, when she hit her normal chunk of turf. Funny, how that mildly more mellow outlook translated into an extra trick, and a tip... By one a.m., Tabitha could support her immediate habit, and was working on grocery and rent money. ------- Chapter 10: Armand Mixes in the Hernandez's Affairs Armand Wilson sat in his home office/study sighing. From the office, things had looked pretty good; business was on track, and Sharon appeared to be handling her new situation well. But in the car on the way home, Armand began getting bad vibes, and when he arrived at his mansion, things were even worse. Everyone on staff was walking around as if on eggshells. It took Armand about twenty minutes' worth of snooping, but the situation resolved itself -- the Hernandez' quarters were an armed camp! Bianca wasn't even there, she was with the Wench -- and not because her presence was required. No, she and the Wench were having 'girl talk'; Armand rolled back the video feed from the Wench's quarters to Bianca's arrival, and discovered that she had fled her own rooms to avoid an ongoing confrontation between her mother and father. So the Wench was acting in loco parentis, soothing her while watching over Bianca's completion of her Algebra homework. Armand replayed the day's catch from the Hernandez' quarters and caught two vituperative exchanges against a background of sullen hostility, one of which had occurred just as Bianca was arriving home from school. Well, this wasn't going to do... Armand tapped his fingers on his mahogany desktop while her pondered methods of alleviating the crisis. Tapping the intercom, he uttered one word, "Jason..." "Sir." Jason answered immediately. "We have a problem among the staff." "Yes Sir." "Let's discuss it." Jason let himself into the study in under ninety seconds. "Sir." Armand speared him with a look. "I rely upon you to resolve these little difficulties... But you can't this time, can you?" Armand couldn't resist the dig, and Jason understood; to pour salt on a wound of this type was in both their natures. "No Sir." Jason sucked it up; the only question was, how bad would it get? "Especially, since you're at the root of it," Armand pressed on, twisting the knife. "Does Raoul know?" Jason sighed, something highly emotional for him. "I doubt it, Sir -- else he'd have probably tried to kill me by now. And I don't think Inez has made any clear admissions; I think she merely did or said something that confirmed his suspicions." "She's not being the contrite, dutiful wife, either," Armand observed. "No Sir." Jason showed his teeth. That Inez was standing up to her worm of a husband amused him no end. "Got any ideas?" Armand asked. Jason had a few, but they were... destructive. "No good ones, Sir." Armand nodded, sighing. "I guess I'll have to take a hand, myself. It is fortunate for you that you are so valuable to me." He eyed Jason while this soaked in. "Since you've been using Inez as your personal slut, I suppose I'd better ask whether you can deal with the implications if I ask Inez to take over Raoul's domestic duties." Armand's regard became a clinical evaluation. Jason froze. He knew what Armand was talking about; Armand would use Inez periodically, as he did all of the other females on the staff -- it was virtually a condition of employment. Jason was pretty sure he'd even used Velma, the cook, once; the heavy Jamaican woman wasn't terribly appetizing, either, although Jason got a mild kick out of her personality. And her tits were HUGE... Jason shook himself; he was avoiding the question, something you didn't do with Armand. Would it bother him if Armand plowed Inez's ass periodically? No, he decided, not as long as it wasn't serious... "I guess not, Sir. As long as it's for the usual reasons." Armand nodded, barely avoiding a grin. The slut was important to Jason -- that much was clear, else he'd never have qualified his answer! Jason knew he was in deep shit over this, but refused to disassociate himself from the woman to improve his position in the matter. "I think I can agree to that." "Sir." "Send for Raoul. And call Kansas City; see if they have any openings for Raoul's primary vocation..." "Sir." Jason ducked his head and got out of there. He couldn't remember ever being in this deep with Armand before; he wondered when the other shoe would drop. Certainly, Armand planned to punish him; HE would in Armand's situation... He keyed his phone, "Raoul, the Boss wants to see you. In his office." Raoul all but snarled; his anger at his wife overflowed everywhere, and Jason was a prime irritant, anyway. "Yes, Sir." Jason's voice was frigid. "I think I'd get my temper under control first, if I were you." Raoul came up short. "Yessir." Jason didn't even respond; he hung up on Raoul and called Kansas City. ------- Raoul presented himself to his employer: "You sent for me, Sir?" Armand eyed him with mild distaste. "Raoul, while you are adequate at what we will term your primary duties, we seem to be continuously attempting to tune your more decorative daily activities, to the point that my patience is wearing thin. Now, on top of that, there is this uproar that you have brought to my home. I'm displeased; I expect things to run smoothly around here, without loud altercations. What, exactly, is the problem?" Raoul scowled. "My wife, she is unfaithful." Armand eyed him. "You have proof of this?" "I know! In here!" His face a study in righteous anger, Raoul pounded his chest with a fist. "Not exactly evidence good enough to use in divorce court," Armand observed blandly. "Besides, I'm well aware that you avail yourself of some of the female staff on occasion..." Raoul waved this off. "I am the man! Beside, the worthless puta has not been performing her duties as a wife, preferring to act as a whore for others while denying ME my rights as a husband!" "Ah." Armand eyed the pompous little man for a bit, barely managing to throttle his amusement at this display of machismo. "It occurs to me that perhaps it would be better if the pair of you were separated..." "We cannot divorce," Raoul insisted. "We are Catholic." Armand let this pass; he knew better, but in Mexico... "Still, perhaps if you were elsewhere for a bit, things might improve. I am unable to envision your maintaining your current position here, but perhaps I can find another post for you in my organization -- or perhaps you would prefer that I seek out a colleague with similar needs? Inez and Bianca may remain here, for the moment..." Mild suspicion flickered across the back of Raoul's consciousness. Was Mr. Wilson fucking Inez? Nah. He did better, daily... "Thank you, Sir." Obviously, Raoul had stepped over the line, and there was no going back -- again. Too bad, too -- this had been good, generally, while it lasted. If Mr. Wilson could find him something elsewhere, he could start again -- without that puta of a wife of his... "I would prefer to stay in your organization, Sir, but if that is impossible, I would be glad of your help in placing me elsewhere..." Armand nodded, stone-faced. "Excellent. In the meantime, I don't think you should return to your quarters. I will send someone to collect your things. Obviously, you have strong feelings in this matter, and I want no blood drawn. Speak to Jason; he will assign you bachelor quarters until you can be reassigned." Armand turned away, dismissing the small man. "Sir." Raoul wasn't pleased; the whore had lost him his job, and he'd intended to get even with the bitch! Now, that pleasure would be denied him. Still, Mr. Wilson was probably correct -- he might kill the worthless cunt, which would be a further embarrassment to his employer... Jason was on the phone to the company representative in Kansas City. Competition was fierce there for various resources, and several competitors had offices in the city; as a result, espionage and corporate sabotage went on regularly. It was one of the few places in Armand's organization that rated its own squad of hired thugs. "Jacobson? It's Jason Kemp." Jacobson was NOT the name of the man on the other end of the phone -- or at least, not the one he started out with. But then, Kemp wasn't Jason's last name, either. "Hello, Sir. What can I do for you?" "I have a hunk of hired muscle here that can't keep his true nature from showing. As a result, we can't keep him around the corporate headquarters any longer. Do you have any openings for a blunt instrument? A VERY blunt instrument?" Jason queried. Jacobson frowned at his phone. Shit! While he didn't, really, he knew that this 'request' was more of a demand; obviously, the troublemaker needed a new address. "Well, a new face might come in handy -- most of us know one another... What's he look like?" "Mexican. About five feet eight. Slick, greasy looking. He's quite the artist with a knife, though..." "Not too imposing. I don't suppose he's any too smart..." "Nope. Like I said, he's a VERY blunt instrument. He requires supervision, if you don't want him to fuck up on you." Shit. Jacobson was NOT thrilled. "Hmmph. Is this temporary?" "No. If he fails to work out for you, we're going to have to cut him loose. You're his last stop," Jason related. A light bulb went on in Jacobson's brain. This guy sounded disposable... "Awright, send him along -- I'll find entertainment for him. If he doesn't work out, I'll cut him loose. What does he know?" "Hmmmm. Quite a bit, actually. He could be an embarrassment in the hands of a competitor..." THAT was a complication Jason hadn't thought about. The little bastard was generally loyal, though... "Well, if I can't use him locally, I can put him in contact with some people south of the border." Jacobson had a couple of ideas already; if he sent Raoul south, he'd probably be DOA. But the Boss Man didn't want to know that... "Fine. I'll make the arrangements." Jason hung up to find Raoul had entered the room behind him. He covered his surprise well, but Raoul sensed it, anyway, and was secretly pleased. He hated this prick with a passion; too bad he couldn't knife him on the way out... "We have people in Kansas City," Jason related, scratching notes on a pad. "This man, Jacobson, will collect you when you get there and put you to work. This is your last chance, here. Don't fuck it up." Raoul somehow managed to keep from losing his temper totally; the temptation to tell that supercilious bastard Jason what he thought of him was intense. Instead, he gritted his teeth and grunted, "Mr. Wilson said to have you assign me other quarters, and have someone collect my stuff." Jason eyed the pompous little bastard. Yeah, that was a good idea; else he'd be tempted to use his toad-sticker on Inez. Murderous rage accompanied that thought, but Jason's face never changed. "Fine. There are a couple of rooms in the south wing -- have Boris assign you a room there. Pack your stuff when you get it, though -- you'll depart in the morning. Oh, and remember that you are not to touch the Wench." Raoul nodded, his eyes hard. At least he'd never have to deal with Jason again -- THAT was a plus! Jason nodded his head in dismissal, and Raoul quit his presence, much to the relief of both individuals, headed for the south wing. Jason called Boris on the intercom, "I'm sending you Raoul to quarter for the night. Lock him in if you have to -- we're concerned that he'll do something stupid to Inez. On second thought, best not, I guess, but put a yard boy on him until he departs tomorrow morning. Pete, maybe. Have him get some boxes and go down to Raoul's quarters, first, and collect his stuff. Got it?" "Da. Yes, Sir. It will be as you say," Boris replied, and Jason signed off. ------- "Inez." The voice on the intercom was one that filled her with fear and dread. Mister Armand! Was their time in the Wilson Hacienda at an end? Had Raoul finally ruined things totally? "Mister Armand?" "Please see me in my office as soon as possible," Armand directed. "Si -- Yes, Sir. Right away." Inez was out of her chair like a shot. Armand, watching her on video, was amazed at her alacrity. On the way up the stairs and down the hallway to Armand's office, Inez composed her plea for mercy and employment while braiding her thick black locks between two hair bands, one at the top, and one at the tip. By the time she arrived outside Armand's door, she had the braid pinned in a spiral bun. She composed herself, straightened her housedress, and knocked. "Enter!" Armand looked up from his monitors and again examined the woman who was at the heart of the current uproar. In a plain, unflattering housedress, with her hair in a bun, Inez looked plain, severe, and somewhat dumpy. The dress was deliberately drab, no doubt; Armand had seen the woman nude while Jason used and abused her, and knew that while she was no fox, there was a certain draw to her. She was apparently about thirty-five, had heavy breasts that the dress was unable to hide fully, wide hips, and a stocky waist. Armand's first thoughts on the matter had been surprise that Inez was in any demand at all, but upon sober reflection, Sharon wasn't any major visual draw, either... "Sit." Inez did so, in an armless upholstered chair placed there for the purpose. "You and your husband are disturbing my home. Why?" "Raoul is..." "Is the problem Raoul? He claims that you have been unfaithful..." Mister Armand's eyes bored into Inez, paralyzing her throat. It took a moment, but she stammered out, "I have been abused and raped, many times... But I have not been unfaithful." Armand raised an eyebrow. "Really?" This was her justification, then... "Why did you not come to me about this?" "I..." Why HADN'T she? Because... The thought flitted past, and she examined it, then hid from it. "I... thought perhaps... it was..." "Allowed?" Armand answered for her. "Expected? Certainly, many women have had things done to them that they were reluctant to do within these walls -- but YOU are neither an employee nor a guest. No, I think you are avoiding the issue..." "There would be trouble..." How long could she dance around while Mister Armand shredded her excuses with those eyes? "True, as far as it goes. That is why you did not tell your husband; we'd have come to this, or worse, long ago. But it does NOT explain why you did not come to ME..." At the last moment, Armand substituted 'ME' for 'Jason or myself'; total ignorance was something he didn't want to project. "It wasn't anything I couldn't handle..." This was the wrong thing to say; Mister Armand's smile became totally carnivorous. "Don't you think it is time that you admitted the truth? That you enjoy Jason's use and abuse as much as he enjoys dealing it out?" Inez's eyes popped. "Oh, yes, I'm aware, and have been for some time. But it wasn't immediate, and if you had come to me, I'd have put a stop to it. But you didn't, did you? Why? Because you really didn't want it to stop!" "I... I..." "Inez, I KNOW! I know probably better than Jason does! I have seen you, in the throes of orgasm, while Jason abuses you! Come here!" Inez got up on shaky legs, and came around Armand's desk, to see the monitor imbedded in the desktop. Armand flicked switches, and the Hernandez' sitting room appeared on the monitor. "Nothing that goes on in this house escapes me, Inez. Nothing -- at least, not for very long. And you and Jason can be very entertaining. Now, tell me again about the rapes?" "It... It IS rape, Mister Armand! I NEVER ASK Mister Jason to come to me -- to beat me, to use me..." Inez was thoroughly flustered. "I am a good catholic woman!" Armand got up and walked to a cabinet. Digging on a shelf, he collected a DVD and fed it into a player, and began fast-forwarding it. On the screen, Inez appeared, and began knitting with comical speed. In a moment, Jason appeared, and began waving his arms, obviously ranting. A riding crop appeared in his hand. He closed on Inez and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her head back. In a moment, he shoved the whip between her teeth, and began unbuttoning her housedress. Things continued rapidly -- mere moments later, Inez was sucking his cock, while he mauled her fat breasts through the open dress. Inez watched in awe as Armand fast- forwarded through Jason pulling her out of the chair, stripping her, and wailing on her ass with the crop while she swallowed his cock. Then he jerked her up and threw her over the back of the chair and began pounding furiously, the speed magnified at three to one. Armand kept going until Inez's head came up, then he slowed the playback to normal and the sound came on. Inez, paralyzed, watched her face on the screen -- it was a mask of lust. In a moment her video image wailed, "Aaaaaiiiieeeeee!!! Chingar! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! FUCK MEEEEEEEE!!" Her eyes rolled up and she began throwing herself back against Jason, whose hard grin showed every tooth in his head, practically. Inez looked up to find Mister Armand gazing at her sardonically. "You were saying? Want to see some more? Your husband has no evidence, at this point -- but if he sees THAT..." Inez covered her face with her hands. Well, she knew it, deep down, but she could always pretend, until now... "Does Mister Jason know?" Armand grinned. "That you're a slut? Obviously. That he's been recorded playing with his favorite toy? No. He knows that there are cameras, certainly. Every time he visits you, he shuts them off in the servant's wing. But I planned for this, long ago. I think that this should be our little secret, don't you?" "Si." Such was her level of stress that Inez reverted to her native language. "What do you think I should do about all of this?" Armand queried. "What did you hope for, when you came through that door?" "I..." Certainly all of her hopes were dashed. "I had hoped..." Could she come out with it, after this? She looked up, eyes pleading. "I had hoped... to be... a... maid..." "Sit." For what had to be the first time, Mister Armand touched her, pushing her back toward the chair, his hand in the small of her back. He seated himself in his chair and gazed at her over his bridged fingers. "I have several options, here. I can put you all out, and call the INS. I can take your husband's part, and provide him with the materials required to ruin you in a divorce, which leaves several options in dispensing with you. I can take yours, against your husband -- again leaving me with several options in dealing with either or both of you. Or I can just stay out of it, and let the two of you deal with it in whatever manner you end up using." Inez fairly quaked. The simpler, more sensible solutions all appeared to leave Inez -- and possibly Bianca -- in grave danger, on the street, or deported. Armand paused for a bit, then continued. "The fifty thousand foot view, however, leaves out a few things. It makes no sense to support Raoul as opposed to you, since his tenure in my house would be short, in any case. If I dump you all out, there exists the possibility that it could backfire on me, unless I have you all dealt with permanently." Armand grimaced in distaste, which was possibly scarier than his poker face; it said he COULD have them all killed, and had an appreciation of the issues. Inez's fear knew no bounds -- Jason didn't scare her like this, especially now. She had the tools and the experience to deal with his violence. Mister Armand, she had no handle on. Armand sat there, drawing things out. He could smell the Hispanic woman's fear, and it was impossible that he not milk it for his enjoyment. Finally, he continued, "Letting the pair of you continue to abuse one another extends the uproar in my house, and risks your life, at least; I imagine that if Raoul goes overboard, there will be two murders for me to deal with, and I would lose the services of Jason, whom I consider a valuable asset." Inez nodded dumbly. Raoul was such a fool; when he got going, killing her was an option for him, if she didn't protect herself adequately. The second half of Mister Armand's assumption also made sense; Mister Jason would undoubtedly avenge her, at least. God knew how much he hated Raoul. "Sooo, let's see, what does that leave?" Armand's expression left no doubt that he was toying with her. He leaned forward. "I have already taken certain actions. Tomorrow, I will send your husband to Kansas City, to work for my branch office there. If he succeeds, fine; if he fails, he will leave my organization. I have directed Jason to see to it that the pair of you are kept apart until his departure, and that someone be sent to collect his belongings." Armand leaned back, glowering. "But that leaves me saddled with you and your daughter. And without anyone to perform the services that Raoul provided, however poorly, in this house." Armand tapped his desktop for several seconds. "This maid thing -- were you serious?" Inez's heart leaped! "Oh, yes! Yes Sir! I cook, sometimes, you know! I can do the other things, too! The silver, the china, the supplies -- I can do these things!" She wanted to lunge out of her chair, run about, kneel, beg -- anything! "And Bianca? Scratch that..." Inez's blank flash of fear was the only impetus for the query -- it served its purpose in the instant it was uttered. Still, it was time to reel in his prey... "As an employee, you will no longer merit the protections that I provide dependents -- even though you did not take advantage of them. You must answer to Jason -- and to me..." Armand waited. Inez knew caution. What was Mister Armand saying, exactly? She ALREADY answered to Mister Jason, after a fashion; certainly, having legitimate authority over her might lead him to excess, but THAT was a challenge that she felt up to. No, that wasn't it, exactly. Mister Armand was obviously waiting for her to see something else... Then it hit her; Mister Armand had both beaten and had sex with Consuelo regularly. He had sex with the Wench, too, and EVERYBODY knew that he abused the puta something terrible! Velma even admitted that he'd had her, too, sexually, during a conspiratorial moment. Leticia, too -- ALL of the female staff had felt his hand and his cock! One would have to have been blind not to notice this; in fact, Inez knew that at least two of the staff had entered this house as the puta had, looking to become Mister Armand's woman. Inez's expression indicated her arrival; Armand's eyes hooded, and he sat back. "I see that you begin to understand. Ultimately, I control everything that goes on in this house. Jason is my right hand, but I can and do take a hand whenever I feel it is necessary with the discipline of the staff. In addition, I feel it necessary that they understand that I hold dominion over them in an intensely personal way, and I reinforce that understanding on a regular basis, especially among the female staff. Am I being clear?" "Yes, Sir... You will..." Mister Armand was using big words, but the upshot was that he would use her, just as Mister Jason did! Armand left no doubt. "I will use you, if, when and however I please. And I will punish your transgressions, physically." He leaned forward, and engaged her with his hypnotic stare. "One of the reasons that I showed you the video was to make it clear to you that your portrait of yourself as a 'good Catholic woman' was self-delusion, a falsehood. You are a slut, a wanton who enjoys being used violently. If I offer you this job, you will be MY slut, as well as Jason's. I have discussed this with him, since he is an interested party -- he is in agreement with me that whatever your status with him, you will service MY needs in the same manner as the other women in this house. Do you understand?" Inez nodded dumbly. 'Dios mio, Mister Armand is going to make ME a puta, too!' flickered through her brain. Armand rubbed his face, largely to wipe off an impending smile. Inez was an open book; she was simple, fatalistic, and her face hid nothing. No wonder Raoul KNEW she was fucking around, once he got around to looking for it! Hazing her would be a lot of fun... "Because Jason has an interest in you, I will be watching you closely to ensure that you toe the line with the others; on the other hand, you can thank Jason for the fact that I am making this offer in the first place; I value Jason, and I see this as a unique opportunity to see to his needs." He chuckled. "I can't imagine how this could get any MORE complicated..." Armand stopped dead. The expression on Inez's open face said SHE could... Armand tilted his head, re-engaging Inez's eyes. "Suddenly, I think you want to tell me something. Something important..." Inez's stomach went through the floor, leaving a hollow place behind it. Oh, God! He knew! His eyes seemed to glow; Inez knew that she was going to have to tell him. How had he guessed? Armand waited out the pregnant pause, raising an eyebrow. Finally, Inez lowered her eyes, and whispered, "I am... with child..." Armand blinked, sat back in his chair. In a moment, his shoulders began to shake, a low rumble issuing from his throat. Inez, watching, wondered for several seconds if he was going to leap up and rip her lungs out; the sound raised the hair on her arms! But it soon became apparent that Armand was laughing. Armand couldn't even sit up in his chair; his lungs were paralyzed from his mirth! This had to be the damnedest situation... "Obviously, the child is Jason's?" Inez nodded, wide-eyed. Armand suffered another paroxysm, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Woman, have you ever heard of birth control?" "The Pope says..." "You know, the Wench told your daughter this -- now I'm telling you! The Pope tells you that so another bunch of ignorant Catholic peasants will be born to extend his weakened power base! Do you eat eggs? Are you concerned that they represent chickens that will never be born?" Armand chuckled again. "Now you DO have a problem, because it IS a life! Jason will be..." Armand guffawed. "... Beside himself..." He wiped his eyes. "You'll be lucky if he doesn't beat you until you miscarry!" He sobered. "How long?" "Ummm, six weeks..." Inez was at a loss -- this was funny? Well, it was ironic, but that would do. Obviously, this whole thing was well-timed. Six MORE weeks, and it would have fallen apart on its own, and undoubtedly there would have been a bloodbath. "You will tell Jason," he directed. "You will tell him immediately, or you will leave this house immediately. No, scratch that -- Jason is responsible for this mess; I won't allow you to make it easier on either him OR you at the expense of the child's welfare by running. Still, I think you will require shielding from his initial reaction, you little fool. Let me think." Inez didn't know whether to be happy or horrified. When Mister Armand mentioned leaving, it was instantly the only thing to do -- but then he retracted the demand, insisting that it was the fool's way out. Inez had been fearing Jason's reaction, and Armand crystallized those fears. But she wanted Jason's child; she wanted the hold on her lover that the child represented, too. IF she survived the announcement... Armand grunted, sat forward. "I don't know why I should help you -- you're SUCH an idiot! What is the benefit to me? I can let Jason or your husband kill you -- Hell, they might actually work together for once! -- and I can take Bianca and train her to sex slavery, starting immediately. By the time she's the Wench's age, she'll be incredible!" Inez's eyes were huge, and her mouth opened and closed like that of an aquarium occupant. "The only way I stand to gain from this is if you accept the maid's position; if you don't, I have no reason to put up with you, and every reason to dispense with you as I dispense with your idiot husband..." "I want it! Please, please, Mister Armand..." Inez was up out of the chair and around the desk on her knees, trying to wrap her arms around Armand, blubbering. Armand shook his head; she was SO easy to manipulate... "You understand what ELSE this means? You will divorce your husband, whatever your religious views -- you're a slut, anyway, so you can drop all pretense. I will discuss it with Raoul before he leaves, to ensure that he understands that it is for the best. In fact, I will insist that HE initiate the process -- after all he is the injured party..." Inez's shoulders shook; Mister Armand was being brutal. "I intend to punish you, as no doubt Jason will, too. You will accept whatever punishments we mete out as your due. Do you understand?" Inez merely nodded her head, her face buried in his lap. Armand couldn't help it -- he was hard. This was what he lived for -- total control! "Fine. Then it's time to discover why Jason values you so much. Since your head is already in my lap, you can suck my cock while I try to figure out how to preserve your foolish life when Jason discovers you are pregnant!" Inez looked up, crestfallen, but Armand merely returned her gaze. This was a new thing to Inez; she'd been brought up to expect that only her husband could expect to be serviced by her. Jason had changed this, somewhat, but he had always clothed it in something akin to rape. Mister Armand, however, fully expected her to act like a slut... ... And he seemed to divine the reason for her hesitation. "What are you waiting for? We've already determined that you are a slut, so there is no reason for pretense. Get on with it!" Thoroughly humiliated, Inez began working at Armand's zipper. ------- Ninety minutes before, the Wench had been 'relaxing' against the bars in her kennel in her 'palatial quarters' as she referred to them when humor struck her, when Bianca minced in, lugging her bag of schoolbooks. "Can I hang out here?" "Sure, Hon. It's not much, but it's home..." the Wench waved, grinning. "What's up?" "Mama and Papa are at each other's throats. Papa has decided she's been unfaithful..." "Well, there IS Jason..." the Wench replied, "although I'd classify that as a selfless act of sacrifice..." Bianca chuckled. "You wouldn't if you'd heard her once she got worked up!" The Wench shrugged. "I gather there is a pleasurable component, but with Jason? I can't see it being all that great..." "I don't understand it, either," Bianca shuddered. "I've seen the beatings. But Mama cums regularly -- and more than once!" "Well, it'll shake out. In the meantime, why don't you go ahead and do your homework? I'll be here if you need me." The Wench settled, tailor- fashion, on the floor of her kennel. Bianca stretched out on the bare floor, and started reading her World History. The pair communed for a bit, desultory conversation about this and that keeping either of them from complete boredom while Bianca worked her way through her various subjects, then Bianca settled upon her crossed legs, emulating the Wench from outside the open kennel door, and they began something with more of a resemblance to 'girl talk'. ------- By the time Raoul arrived at the south wing, Pete had gotten the word. He was to escort Raoul to a room near his, then collect some shipping boxes and proceed to his quarters and collect his things. After THAT, he was to keep an eye on the diminutive Mexican cutthroat, ensuring that he didn't go chase down his wife in the dead of night and murder her. Phillippe would take over the watch at about two-thirty. If possible, he was to keep Raoul from realizing that he was under surveillance, but stealth wasn't required if Raoul started anything stupid. It was an ugly set of instructions; Pete had a hard time appearing cheerful when he met Raoul in the south hallway. "Hi, Raoul, Boris asked me to show you to a room." Raoul merely nodded, his face fixed in a scowl. "What's up?" Raoul glared. "My faithless slut of a wife is sleeping around with someone..." His glare became even more fixed as the possibility that that someone could be Pete filtered through -- but he dismissed the idea; Pete was too young and handsome -- he had his pick of women, and wouldn't be interested in Raoul's stupid fat cow of a wife... "Senor Armand (since he was leaving, why bother with 'Mister'?) has decided that we should be separated to keep me from killing the worthless puta." "Puta?" "Whore." "Oh." Pete filed that away for future reference. The pair proceeded down the hall until Raoul heard a familiar voice issuing from an open door. Raoul glanced in and stopped; his Bianca was there, talking to the whore Felicia, who everyone currently called the Wench for some reason that escaped him. Turning, he stepped inside, leaving Pete fidgeting in the doorway. "Daughter." "Papa?" "I am leaving in the morning; Senor Armand wants your mother and I separated to keep me from wreaking my vengeance upon her. You will go with me." "Ummmm, I don't think that is a good idea, Papa." "Why not?" Raoul's features, which hadn't really cleared, began to darken again. "You have your work, Papa. I have school, here. If I go with you, I will be a distraction to you," Bianca said carefully. "You are my daughter. I will deal with it." "I think I should wait here with Mama until this all blows over." Rage filled Raoul. "It will NOT blow over! I am DONE with your faithless whore of a mother!" "Still..." Bianca replied carefully. Pride made Raoul's voice cold as he absorbed this new loss. "Sure. Stay with your mother. Between her and Senor Armand, in two years, you'll be a happy little puta who spreads her legs for whoever she is told to, like THIS one!" he sneered, waving at the Wench. Turning, he stalked out. Pete, embarrassed, made shift to follow. Bianca turned to the Wench. "I'm sorry. That was mean." The Wench shrugged. "He's right about one thing; I'm a bad example to you. He described me pretty much exactly. I don't have any problem with it, but it's not for everybody..." "Still, it was nasty..." "You missed the point, Hon. He wasn't trying to hurt ME!" "Oh, I know. But Papa is an extremist." The Wench grinned, "So am I, in my own way." The pair resumed their conversation. ------- Pete settled Raoul a few doors down. "Let me know if you need anything. I'm gonna go collect your stuff." Raoul nodded, glaring. He couldn't seem to change expressions. Pete wasn't sure that he blamed him, either; Raoul was obviously having a tough day. ------- "Jason." "Sir." Jason responded to the page immediately. "Come to my office. We need to discuss Inez's duties." "Sir." Armand glanced down at his lap where a visibly unhappy Inez had taken up the first of her new duties. She was working his cock to the best of her ability, licking and sucking, kneeling before his chair, humiliation pouring from her eyes. Things had been bad enough before; Mister Armand had just made them worse by an order of magnitude by calling Mister Jason to him! Inez knew better than to stop what she was doing, but Mister Jason would be SO angry... Armand was taking sustenance from Inez's incredible discomfort. The woman was absolutely transparent; apparently, she'd never heard of a poker face... The horror, shame and degradation were painted all over hers, overlaying her innate fatalism. Armand couldn't resist stoking the fire again. "Get out of that dress, Slut. I need to understand what there is about your body that Jason finds so irresistible. No, you can't stop what you're doing -- work around it. If you goof off, I'll slap you." Somehow, Inez managed to look even more agonized as she began unbuttoning the housedress. "Keep looking at me. I want to see your eyes." Inez watched Mister Armand as she struggled with her conflicting tasks. To know Mister Armand was to know that she WOULD be slapped, even if she did well... Mister Jason was going to walk in on her like this, kneeling in her panties with Mister Armand's cock in her mouth... Inez's mind screamed as it offered up pictures of the probable consequences. Mister Jason's cold rage would know no bounds; what little consideration their previous relationship might have granted her would disappear... Struggling to get the cap sleeves over her shoulders so she could wriggle the dress off of her hips, Inez took a moment to remove her lips from Mister Armand's erection. "If Mister Jason sees me like this... I don't see how it helps..." The expected slap came, rocking Inez. Armand jammed her face back down over his erection, deliberately choking her with it. "You'd be right, Slut, but Jason will understand. You see, he is to be punished, too, and he knows it. You are unique, in that at this moment, at least, you offer me unprecedented leverage on Jason. I'm going to use that leverage to punish him for his part of this debacle while I punish you." He released her so she could breathe. "Hurry up! I want you naked when Jason arrives!" Inez's hands and mouth continued to work, but her mind was a pool of frozen horror! 'Naked! Dios mio! I will die for certain!' But her hands pushed her dress over her full hips and worked it over her knees to pool at her feet. Armand decided that if Jason was his usual punctual self, things just wouldn't be perfect, sooo... "Jason, check on Raoul first won't you? I want to know exactly where he is. See that he is settled." Jason, almost at the office door, rolled his eyes and turned back the way he'd come. "Sir." Armand eyed Inez. "All right, I've granted you a reprieve so you can be presentable for your lover. Get out of that bra and panties. And undo that pigtail. In fact, I want you to redo it as two, so I can use them as reins to guide you..." Inez was beyond tears. Mister Armand was sadistic, evil, brutal! Mister Jason was vicious, but he was direct; Mister Armand seemed to be able to find little ways to make ANYTHING worse... The bra was easy, but the panties caught on a knee and she ripped the waistband while trying to free herself burdened by the requirement to continue applying lips and tongue to Mister Armand's big cock, something Mister Armand forced by holding the back of her head. Mister Armand was apparently the same size as Mister Jason, although Mister Jason's had more of an upward curve... The head on Mister Armand's cock was maybe a little fatter. Finished with the clothing issues, Inez started working on her hair. Fortunately, her hands knew their job from hundreds of repetitions; all she had to do was hold her head relatively still licking Mister Armand's cock on the underside while she did the left side. Armand didn't let her get away with that on the right. "Surely, Jason has taught you to deep throat!" he grunted, and jammed her head down onto his shaft. "If you have to hold still, you can give me throat!" Inez, caught unprepared, started gagging, but Armand just kept pushing. "Do your hair!" Armand hissed. "You're not coming up until you do!" Inez, eyes watering, drooling, her stomach rock hard from attempts to retch, hastily worked the braid. When she finished, it was no work of art, but it was barely passable. Armand let her up far enough to get a breath and try to control her stomach, but not a full release. He waited several seconds, until the worst was over, then complained, "You're not sucking..." Inez went hurriedly back to work. "That braid is unsatisfactory. Redo it. And make sure you keep me entertained!" 'Dios mio, dios mio, what have I gotten myself into?' Inez wondered, shaking, while she pulled out the results of her hurried efforts, her lips spreading the flow of saliva from her recent choking over Mister Armand's shaft. ------- Jason met Pete in the hallway, and got directions to Raoul's new quarters. Pete went on, lugging a couple of cardboard boxes towards the Hernandez' quarters, while Jason stuck his head in. "Are you settled in okay?" Not that he cared... "Si." Similarly, Raoul wasn't interested in seeing Jason. "Let Pete know if you need anything." Jason got out of there. ------- Armand's intercom lit. "Raoul is in South fourteen, Sir. He seems to be adjusting," Jason's voice announced. "Ah." Armand made selections on the monitoring console, and Raoul became visible in the desktop monitor, pacing his room. "Hurry along, then -- we need to discuss the distaff side." Inez was just finishing the second pass at her right braid, while watching Armand closely and bobbing deep every few seconds. Her eyes held questions, but she knew better than to raise her head to speak; Armand had rattled her with a second slap moments before -- apparently on general principles. When she'd finished, he examined them, tugging, among other things. "Perfect," he announced. "All right, get up and turn around. Bend over." Inez did as she was told, relieved. 'Now he's going to fuck me, ' she thought, and aside from the fact that she knew that Mister Jason was going to be coming through the door momentarily, that wasn't so bad. But Armand had other plans; Inez felt his cock nose against her anus. "Oh, no! Not my ass!" Armand chuckled, grabbing her pigtails. "Can't use your pussy! I might disturb Jason's little bastard! At least, not until he knows about it!" He started hauling on Inez's pigtails. Inez had been trying to flinch away, but that came to a halt; her scalp screamed as Armand applying pressure, pulling her head back. The choice was clear; Inez could have bloody hunks ripped out of her scalp, or she could cooperate by backing onto Armand's impaling cock. "Aaaaaaghhhhhuuuuuuhhhh," she wailed, as THAT action produced its own brand of pain to add to the fiery flashes in her scalp. But her sphincter slowly flowered open and accepted Armand's erection. It wasn't as if it was the first time -- Jason had sampled everything on multiple occasions. Still, the lubrication provided by her spit was limited, making the impalement agonizing. "Huuuuuuuuuhhhhh! Aaaaaaggggghhhhh!" Armand set up a driving rhythm as soon as he was seated, controlling Inez via her makeshift pigtail bridle. He was good and settled when Jason entered the room and stopped, surprised. Jason stood there, nonplussed. Knowing that Armand would take Inez eventually, and walking in on it twenty minutes after discussing it was two different things! The slut was totally naked, too -- Jason wondered how quickly she'd divested herself of them, in her rush to obtain Armand's favor. His brow knit, and he glared at the woman he'd come to think of as his. Armand puffed a bit as he announced, "Inez has taken a position as a maid and assistant cook. I made it clear to her that she would be punished for her trespasses, since it is obvious that she is every bit the slut her husband believes her to be. I'd been wondering how I was going to deal with YOU over YOUR part of this situation, when Inez handed the answer to me on a silver platter." He tugged Inez's pigtails, eliciting a grunt. "Tell him, Slut! Tell him what you've done. I want to watch his face when he realizes the consequences of his actions." Jason braced himself. This was going to be hideous, if Armand was that pleased with himself. Inez's eyes beseeched him as she moaned, "I couldn't do it! Raoul would have learned of it, and things would have been ruined before now! Besides, I'm Catholic! It's not allowed!" "Quit talking in circles, you silly bitch! WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO TELL ME?" Jason railed. "I am with child! Pregnant!" Inez wailed, closing her eyes and covering her face so she wouldn't see Death coming. Jason stopped breathing. His eyes popped, and his face went grey while his mouth hung slack. The picture was one Armand would replay many times, because it was unique in his dealings with his majordomo. Jason the unflappable was totally taken aback! "You're w-what?" Inez peered through her fingers, and decided a response was required. "Pregnant?" There were a hundred ways this could have played out; most of them, if they'd been alone, would have resulted in a severe beating. But Inez was bouncing in Armand's grip, and therefore safe from serious physical violence. Jason's face shifted to red, and his hands clenched at his sides. "It is mine?" he asked, his voice thick. "Si. There has been no one else, including my husband." Inez ducked her head, awaiting the blow. Jason ached to deliver it, but the presence of his employer and mentor inhibited him. "I believe you, but you will be tested, nonetheless. I will be CERTAIN." Armand rumbled a chuckle. "As you can see, Jason, your part in this will have lasting consequences. Given that the Catholics don't believe in birth control, they CERTAINLY don't believe in abortion!" Armand waited while Jason absorbed the implications, then continued, "It is my will in this matter that you do nothing that might kill either your woman or your child; on the other hand, the silly slut CERTAINLY deserves punishment, and you may mete it out in whatever fashion you desire, for she is, beyond her household duties, your slave in all things." He slapped the heavy right cheek of Inez's ass, "You understand, Slut?" Inez, eyes rolling comically in an attempt to engage his, nodded. "Of course, that makes you MY slave in all things, too, but I intend to make a habit of the courtesy of asking Jason's permission before using you -- which, of course, rubs his nose in it..." His eyes swept up to Jason's. "Inez was under the impression that just because sex with you was always violent, and generally began with a beating of some type, that she was not an adulteress. I disabused her of this notion; obviously, she was enjoying the whole thing too much for it to truly be rape. I suspect that she was actively courting your abuse..." Jason chuckled evilly. He could see where THIS was going. Jason's methods were direct, violent. Armand's partook of the same energy, but built upon them, supplying a subtler mental component. Obviously, he'd been tying Inez in knots to get the pregnancy admission... "It's true, Sir. Her husband's idiot behavior stopped being the excuse for either of us some time ago." Inez cringed at this confirmation of Mister Armand's charges. She was a whore, a puta! Everybody said so! Her excuses were... lies. She'd been kidding herself. Bianca had been hinting this, and she'd passed it off -- what did a child know about the realities of life? But now it came home to her that her daughter shared the same views as these two violent men who held her fate in their hands... Armand decided to add the whipped cream and the cherry. "Inez, I'd stop worrying about strict adherence to the tenets of your religion. You're probably going to Hell anyway for past crimes, and you're soon to be excommunicated, no doubt, anyway..." He released her pigtails and motioned to Jason. "Why don't you do something to keep her mouth occupied while I speak to her husband?" Jason showed his teeth. The bitch wouldn't have any tonsils when he got through with her! He stepped in close and hissed, "Get me out and swallow me, Bitch! Hurry!" Inez started fumbling with his trousers while Jason took over the pigtails. They were a refinement he hadn't considered; this wouldn't be the last time he controlled her with them... Armand continued to add to Inez's difficulty by stroking her ass while she worked to get Jason's trousers and underwear out of the way, but stopped, buried, as she engulfed his glans, gesturing to Jason that control was his. Jason gave Inez no quarter, immediately going for the throat. Inez struggled to deal with it, knowing her whole future was on the table, here, in this place. Armand leaned over toward his desk and began flipping switches; in a moment, the screen depicted Raoul, pacing his new quarters. Armand moved the video feed to another screen along the wall, where all three occupants of the room could see it. "Raoul!" Raoul stopped pacing, scowled, and stepped to the intercom control on the wall. "Sir?" "I wanted you to know that I have come upon independent evidence of your claims," Armand related, with a slap on Inez's ass for emphasis. Inez, Jason's cock buried in her throat, was incapable of much in the way of sound, but her eyes rolled. Jason backed his cock out, but the admonishing finger and the look on his face told Inez all she needed to know about the results of making any significant noise. Jason's right hand behind her head spurred her on to a less extreme form of lip service, sparing her throat for the moment. Inez began to suck, obeying Jason's gesture to look into his eyes while servicing him. Raoul grunted, but said nothing further, so Armand continued, "Given the background against which this all occurs, my plans for you have not changed; however, I recommend that upon your arrival in Kansas City, you have your new supervisor put you in contact with our legal team there and file for divorce, on the grounds of marital infidelity. I will see to it that Inez responds appropriately." Inez's eyes popped, and she started trying to talk around Jason's cock; Jason resolved this by again plugging her throat. Tears poured from the trapped woman's eyes as the reality of the destruction of her previous life came home to her. Raoul would have it all his own way; she could never go home again, never face her family. Raoul would poison them against her, and she would be unable to respond. In addition, she probably WOULD be excommunicated -- the little church in her hometown, at least, was not know for its tolerance. The beatific look on Raoul's face as he said, "Yes, Sir! Thank you, Sir!" was just the icing on the cake. Jason was nodding at Armand; the men understood one another. This would free up Jason to take whatever action he felt necessary, within the limits Armand had set. Hell, he could even marry the silly slut! Did he want that? "Suck, bitch!" he hissed, too quietly to be picked up by the microphone. "I'm your whole universe, now!" He started using her, pounding her face -- a true mouth-fuck. "Goodbye, Raoul, and good luck to you!" Armand cut the microphone, while maintaining audio and video on the incoming circuit, knowing that the impassioned imprecations in Spanish and the jubilation of her soon-to-be-ex- husband was adding to Inez's mental anguish. On the other hand... "You should know," he addressed Jason, "that the slut did not throw herself at me. She asked for a job, and she agreed to my conditions for her employment, but she made no effort to obtain my favor or distract me with her wares. She merely followed instructions when ordered to do so." As awful as things were, Mister Armand whipsawed Inez into feeling gratitude in that instant; she recognized that if Mister Jason was allowed to assume that she'd thrown herself at Mister Armand, their relationship might never recover. As it was, Mister Jason's glance contained a limited amount of approval... Inez was scrabbling for crumbs, and both of the men knew it. Armand smiled. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to finish pumping her ass full of cum!" Jason, equilibrium basically restored, showed his teeth and grunted, "Make him happy, Slut. While you're at it, you'd better make ME happy, too!" Armand dug in a desk drawer, coming up with a vibrator, a 'rabbit' model, with a little flicker for the clitoris attached to the base of the main shaft. Stopping for a moment, he worked it into Inez's cunt, and turned it on. "Might as well remind her of the other half of being a slut," he grunted, resuming his attack on Inez's anus, "It's not enough for her to remember that it is her lot to spread herself for men; ultimately she needs to remember that she does it because she enjoys it!" Jason grinned his hard grin and held her eyes, taunting her, "Suck, my little whore! Suck me good! That's my slut!" Inez knew better than to get stupid about it. Instead, she threw herself into that which was clearly all that was left to her -- to enjoy the abuse and pain with the pleasure, mixing them to make that potent brew that Jason had brought her to orgasm with so many times before... ------- Chapter 11:The Hernandez Family adjusts to the Changed Situation Pete and his boxes stood in the entryway of the Hernandez' modest apartment. "Hello?" Obviously, no one was around. Just as obviously, he'd accomplish little or nothing on his own, except looking like a thief. He backed out of the room, and headed back up the hall. The idea of letting Raoul collect his own crap had an initial appeal, but what if his wife returned? Besides, he didn't trust the little bastard not to claim shit that wasn't his... For that matter, Mrs. Hernandez might mislead him, out of spite. But a voice echoing from the Wench's quarters gave him an idea... "Bianca? Uh, I could use your help..." The Wench eyed Pete sardonically, figuring any proposition Bianca got from Pete was suspicious, and Bianca cueing on the Wench, reflected that suspicion. Besides, she had a certain amount of embarrassment to deal with over recent incidents... "Yes?" "Uh, about your Papa... I'm supposed to collect his stuff, but your Mama isn't in your rooms..." Pete was pretty embarrassed for her; this whole thing couldn't be pleasant... "Oh!" Bianca blinked, surprised. "Um, all right." She glanced up at the Wench, who shrugged,. Okay, maybe this WAS something innocent, after all... "If the Wench wants to go along..." Pete offered. The Wench frowned, thinking about it. "I don't think I want to be found messing around in Bianca's folks' rooms, even WITH an invite." She grimaced, eyeing Bianca. "I will, though, if you think you need it, Hon." Bianca flicked a shy glance at Pete, "I think I'll be all right." "Oh, yeah, yeah!" Hands up, Pete declared total innocence. "I just have to get this done!" Turning to the Wench, he added, "Bianca's actually the perfect choice -- either one of the combatants might set out to screw... Uh, sorry!" The Wench and Bianca shared a rueful glance. "Gauche as it was to mention it, he's right," the Wench pointed out. She flicked a quelling glance at Pete, who shut his mouth with a clop. "All right. Let's go!" Bianca gathered her already packed book bag, and hit the door. "Bye, Wench! Thanks for listening!" "What were you guys talking about?" Pete asked, stalking down the hall behind her. "Oh, this," Bianca replied, "among other things." "This must suck," Pete observed as they entered the sitting room. "Um, I'm sure it will, when it soaks in," Bianca replied. "Right now, I'm kind of numb. In some ways, it's a relief; the last couple of days have been... rough." She passed on to her parent's bedroom, and began digging in drawers. Mama made sure she had basic housekeeping skills like laundering; she knew where all of Papa's clothing was. Pete sat a box on the bed, and began filling it with Raoul's underclothes, feeling slightly sheepish to be pawing through another man's stuff. "Ummm, I guess. When did this all start?" "Papa started venting Monday night. Given the way Papa is, it must have been the first time it ever occurred to him, which is surprising, in a way..." Mister Jason had been fucking Mama for YEARS, after all... "I've seen Papa slap Mama before over one thing or another, but I'd never seen Mama fight back. They had a regular knock-down, drag out fight Monday night, and things haven't been any better, since..." Pete shook his head as the pair moved to the closet. Bianca began sorting through hangers. "And this thing with the Wench..." "Oh, that! It's almost educational..." But a blush colored Bianca's face as she turned to Pete with an armload of hangers. Pete stood there, indecisive, while he tried to figure out how to collect them without also collecting Bianca -- not that that was such a terrible idea... Finally, he began gingerly collecting them by the hooks. Bianca didn't miss a nuance of Pete's reaction, and reddened even further. "We'd better fold this stuff, anyway," she husked. "Sure." He stretched the hung clothing out on the bed to minimize wrinkling while Bianca went back for a second load. Again, she stepped up to him with an armload, this time closing in until he towered over her while trying to collect hangers gingerly from above. Were the little minx's eyes dancing? He carefully laid the new pile atop the first, creating a pretty shaky stack, and Bianca, again businesslike, began removing things from hangers, folding, and stowing. "We'll need more boxes," she observed. "Yeah. Be right back." Pete tucked the lids closed on two, collected them in his arms, and headed out. Somehow, when he cleared the bedroom, he felt relieved. How in the Hell did a fourteen year old DO that? She was sure cute... Pete liked the way she said things; her parents weren't 'Popuh' and 'Mommuh', they were 'PapAH' and 'MamAH', accented on the second syllable. And those eyes... Pete shook himself; what the Hell was he thinking? Down the hall to Raoul's room he went, lugging the boxes. Muscling them around to free a hand, he knocked, and grunted, "Here's the first load of your stuff. You'd probably better do some sorting; you can only take so much on the plane, and we'll end up shipping the rest FEDEX. Is there anything special I should be looking for?" Raoul eyed him for a moment, considering, then: "My knives. There is a case in the middle drawer of the dresser." "Right. Let me know on the next pass if you think of anything else..." Pete got out of there, headed for the storage room and more boxes, thinking, "Jeezus, ain't HE a classic?" When he let himself back into the apartment, Bianca had several neat piles on the bed -- and the knife case was there, beside some other stuff. Pete assembled the boxes and applied packaging tape, then held them open while Bianca gathered armloads and deposited them inside. On one such trip, she looked up shyly, "Umm, about yesterday..." "You were stressed," Pete interjected. "That's why I came over to check on you. I just didn't realize what type of stress it was..." "It was, ummm, pretty embarrassing..." "Well, everybody was pretty charged up. After all, considering what we were doing... Most everybody else was at least getting some relief..." Jeez, how DO you put this?" You were basically the only one who was there but not getting any." "Mister Charles wasn't." "Well, maybe not. But I'd be willing to bet that he'd been laid recently. And he's a lot older, too -- he probably doesn't get that worked up any more. You, on the other hand..." Had he just talked himself into a corner? "Yes?" She was blushing, but her teeth were showing. He was probably going to get bitten... "Well, you're, uh, fully charged?" "That's an interesting way of putting it," Bianca commented with mild sarcasm. "Is that what everybody thinks, since I made a spectacle of myself?" No way out... "Well, I think it's safe to say you're not a little girl anymore. Everybody noticed. Charles saw fit to... admonish us about getting any wild ideas..." "Oh. What should I expect, then?" What a minefield! "Well, nobody thinks less of you over yesterday. For the guys, at least, you kinda put yourself on the map. I mean that in a positive way!" Pete held up his hands. "But you ARE still fourteen, and that's pretty serious poaching. Some of the guys needed a serious threat to put the idea of, uh, bothering you away, so Charles reminded 'em that your Papa was pretty good with knives, and would probably cut 'em even if it was YOUR idea. Then he told us that if he got wind of you being taken advantage of, HE'D cut the offender's balls off! I figure you're pretty safe, even if some of the guys drool from a distance." "Papa won't be around..." Bianca muttered, pondering. "Yeah, well, if anybody touches you that you don't want to, I'LL hold him while Charles cuts him!" Pete declared. Bianca beamed. Pete was SOOO cute, and now that Papa was leaving, maybe... Charles apparently didn't care about it if she WANTED a man... Pete basked in the smile for a moment, then got busy closing boxes. "Um, how many more, do you think?" "I think four," Bianca returned. "Want me to help you load up? They're light..." "Okay." Pete collected two, and Bianca stacked another pair on top, then ushered him out the door. "I'll keep folding." "Okay. Be right back." This time, he squatted outside Raoul's door before knocking. "Another load. I'm off to get more boxes." Pete had no interest in hanging around the angry little man, especially now that he had his knives... ... Only he didn't know it. "My knives?" Raoul called out behind him. "In one of those boxes!" Pete replied over his shoulder, and kept going. Another loop through the supply room, and he was back. "Bianca?" "I'm in the bathroom. More stuff on the bed. I'm getting Papa's shaving gear and stuff..." "Okay." Pete resumed loading clothing, putting shoes in the bottom of the first box for this load. Raoul favored highly-polished 'shit kickers' -- pointed-toed lace-up shoes with a slight heel. Pete thought they'd been popular in the Seventies, maybe, but he could see how they'd benefit a short man who occasionally got in a fight... Bianca came in with an armload of this and that from the bathroom, which she tossed in another box. "There are some things in the main room," she said, and headed back out. Pete kept loading, avoiding the shaving kit box, figuring that whatever Bianca returned with from the main room would travel better with razors and such than clothing. Bianca returned loaded down with assorted knick-knacks, a walking stick, a rather pretentious fedora, and a coat. "That's it." "The cane is going to be a problem," Pete observed. "Maybe he can take it on the plane." "I don't think so." Bianca's smile was carnivorous and she twisted the handle slightly and pulled, revealing a long blade. Pete had heard of sword canes before, but never actually SEEN one. "Oooookaaaaayyyy..." The damned thing wasn't going in a box, either. Well, they could pack it, special, when the time came... The hat went in the box with the mixed articles, and the coat sucked up half of a clothing box, but it appeared that they were done. Now, all he had to do was get six boxes out of there... "I'll help," Bianca offered. "Let's load you up first." They repeated the procedure for the last load, piling up four boxes in Pete's arms, then Bianca stooped to retrieve the other two and the cane. "Got it?" Pete asked. Bianca nodded, and out the door they went. This time, Raoul apparently heard them coming. He stood in the door, apparently jubilant over something. "Oh, good! You're training her do be a domestic!" he chortled. "She'll need some skill beside being an adulterous puta like her mother!" Rounding on his daughter, he announced, "You tell that whore I'm divorcing her as soon as I get to Kansas City -- and that I will have all of the evidence I need to make it stick! Mister Armand probably has tapes..." He sneered at Bianca. "You made YOUR bed -- now go lie in it! Be careful of the wet spot!" He shooed her off, and Bianca, mortified, made no effort to fight it. Pete stood there, hangdog. "That sucked, Raoul. I damn sure didn't need to see that!" "It is none of your business!" Raoul retorted nastily. Kicking the boxes into his room, he slammed the door. Bianca ran down the hall a short distance, then stopped and composed herself. Pete followed, standing next to her for a moment before murmuring, "Man! That was... nasty!" Bianca managed, "Well, Papa was never the doting father... He's never been any too tolerant." She managed a wry smile. "There was never any question whether I'd stay with Mama; Papa isn't equipped to deal with me by himself. He really never has." Her face went serious. "Although, if Mister Armand really told Papa that, Mama and I might be in serious trouble..." Pete gave in to the urge to wrap his arms around her. "It'll be all right." Logically, he didn't have a leg to stand on; Mr. Wilson could turn out Inez and Bianca even faster than Raoul, if he cared to. But, while he couldn't explain it, his gut told him that with Jason so intimately involved in the fiasco, Mr. Wilson probably wasn't planning anything too radical. Bianca was both comforted and not comforted. Pete's arms felt VERY good, but his words weren't convincing. Things could get serious, very quickly... "I'd better get back..." Pete took the hint and let go. "If you need anything..." "Thanks." Pete watched her head off down the hall, then turned back to his babysitting job. What the Hell was he thinking, anyway? ------- On her return, Bianca found her mother sitting in her chair in the sitting room, her head in her hands, shoulders shaking. Instantly, her worst fears surfaced, "Mama?" Inez, looked up. "Oh, my flower, what have I done?" "I just came from Papa. He said..." "I know what he said," Inez replied dully. "He said he will be filing for divorce, and that Mister Armand told him he would provide him with everything he needs." Bianca nodded. "What happened?" "Mister Armand called your father away; I assumed it was to fire him, so when he called me, I went in to ask him if he would take me on as a cook and a maid. I was done with your father, and I saw an opportunity for us to be free of him. Little did I know the cost..." Her shoulders shook. This sounded bad. "Tell me." "He called me in and he asked me why we were disturbing the peace of his house. I started to complain about your father, but he confronted me with my infidelity. He said he knew about Mister Jason, but that if I'd REALLY been being abused, I'd have come to him! He accused me of enjoying it! I denied this, but..." She hung her head. "He showed me pictures -- videos -- of Mister Jason having me. I was screaming my joy; there was no way to deny the truth..." Bianca began wondering if she should start packing her own things. "And then?" "Then Mister Armand spent some time weighing his options. He offered me the maid's job, but the price..." "Price?" "I'm a puta, a whore. If anything, I'm lower than the Wench; at least she isn't married, an adulteress! Mister Armand made this clear... The lies I told myself have been stripped away... I'm to allow the divorce, or Mister Armand will give Raoul everything he needs. Mister Jason and Mister Armand are going to punish me for my sins, and they're going to use me, whenever and however they want..." "We can leave, Mama," Bianca mused. "It won't be easy, but..." "My little flower," Inez husked sadly, "there is something I haven't told you..." 'More?' Bianca thought. Her face held the question. "I am... pregnant..." "Dios mio!" Shock played across Bianca's features. "Uhhh..." Inez nodded, and tears poured. "Mister Jason." Bianca covered her face. She didn't know whether to cry, or laugh insanely. "I have already sold my soul, Daughter. We will continue to live here. Mister Jason is my Master, and Mister Armand is my Lord. Mister Jason was clear about this." She shook her head. "Mister Armand was looking for a way to punish Mister Jason, but when he found out, he said I'd done it for him..." "And the baby?" "It is my Lord's will that I carry it, and that my Master acknowledge it and see to its care... I can no longer be Catholic, with my sins, but I cannot consider abortion..." "Oh, man! What did Mister Jason say to that?" Bianca's eyes were huge! Mister Jason was... dangerous... in ways that left Papa in the dust... "He wants proof positive -- a paternity test -- but he KNOWS it is his... He will do as my Lord requires." She looked up. "I will be his woman, now, more than I was; he will not wait until I'm divorced to exercise his control over me. You will witness my shame, regularly." "Mama, you're not going to your death, here. You and Mister Jason have had a thing for some time... To me, it sounds like it will only get more intense." Bianca rolled her eyes. Such theatrics! "Things have changed. Before, attacks were occasional, and I could justify them by pretending that I was making a sacrifice for my family. Now, there is nothing to stop my Master and I know that I'm just a slut..." "You have to call him that?" "Yes." "Huh. Well, Mama, you KNOW that all of the other women in this household put up with it -- except maybe Cook..." Inez chuckled dryly, "Even Velma, although even SHE isn't sure why..." Velma was a huge black Jamaican woman -- not exactly Mister Armand's normal fare... Bianca shrugged. "Okay, well, I fail to see what makes your plight any worse than theirs... Okay, there's the Church, but..." "I'm an adulteress!" Inez's eyes flashed. "Oh, Mama!' "Even the first time, I just knelt up and did as he bid..." Inez shook her head, remembering. "And Mister Jason is an incredibly dangerous man, who would have had his way, anyway! Forget it! Things are really somewhere between the extremes, here! God will forgive you, even if the Church doesn't! Buck up!" "We can never go home..." "I'm sorry, Mama, but I'm not sure that's any big loss." In Bianca's view, her Mama's beloved hometown was a collection of dirty hovels occupied by ignorant people who made rude comments about things they'd never seen. "You go to Mass until they lock the door on you; around here, I doubt that it will happen, anyway -- the Church in America has a nodding acquaintance with reality, occasionally..." "And my bastard child?" Inez rasped. "Time, Mama, time. You have several months. Maybe Mister Jason will do the right thing..." "I know better than to hope," Inez grunted, but she was beginning to stop feeling sorry for herself. She speared Bianca with a look, "YOU are not safe, either! My Lord Armand at one point threatened to put both Raoul and I out, but keep you and train you to be a puta like the Wench!" Bianca flinched, but... "Mama, if Mister Armand had a thing for young girls, he'd have found a way to get to me already! I think he was just trying to scare you!" "What about your service to the Wench?" Inez countered. "Perhaps this is just the start -- he's breaking down your resistance..." "Now that Papa's no longer around to punish, it will probably end..." "No. You will continue, to punish ME!" Inez crossed her arms and sat back, pleased that she'd made a dent in her daughter's indifference. "Yeah, well, just because they threatened to have sex with you occasionally..." "They already HAVE! BOTH of them! At the SAME TIME! Master Jason used my mouth and Lord Armand..." Inez rubbed her ass. "Lord Armand stuck a buzzing thing in my..." Inez's upbringing hadn't really provided her with words for the kinds of things the men did to her. "Pussy, Mama." Bianca ducked the reflexive slap. "Learn the words. Knowing Mister Jason, he'll want to hear them from you." "You are already ruined!" Inez exclaimed. "Because I know what to call it?" Bianca laughed. "I learned THAT at school! THIS is why I have no interest in returning to the old country! Ignorance and superstition! Well, Mama, if you're gonna get used the way you THINK you're gonna get used, you should learn the words! They'll be your stock in trade!" Inez, furious, hopped up and exclaimed, "You are depraved! I will wash your vile mouth out with soap! You will be grounded..." "Mama, sit down, and shut up!" Bianca roared. She stood, and the problem became apparent; she had an inch and a half on Inez, and was younger, leaner, perhaps stronger... Inez discovered that moment that occurs for many parents when they discover that their children have surpassed them, and are no longer amenable to direct physical control. It was ANOTHER shock, atop a long list in the past hour or so; Inez, mouth working, collapsed back into the chair. Bianca moved up and rubbed her mother's back, "So tell me about it." "Lord Armand put a buzzing thing..." "A vibrator, Mama." "... In my... pussy... It had a thing on it that touched my... center..." Bianca took clitoris in context. "It was impossible to resist. Lord Armand was in my..." Inez looked up at Bianca for support, and got it, "... ass, and Master Jason was... fucking... my throat, holding onto these..." She fingered her braids. But the buzzing thing -- I couldn't resist. God help me, I..." "You came? You had an orgasm?" Inez hung her head. "Yes..." "Well, Mama, if you're gonna have to do it, you might as well enjoy it!" "You ARE ruined!" "No, I'm practical, like my Mama. Sex with Mister Jason isn't exactly a fate worse than death for you, and I think you've done all of this stuff before, anyway. You need to get past this beating on yourself thing, and get back to dealing with reality. It'll all be okay -- and might even get better!" Bianca rubbed her mother's back. "How about some tea?" "You weren't the one... used..." Inez complained, but she nodded in answer to Bianca's question. "Mama, the only thing different about this is how you're handling it! Haven't you had sex both ways with Mister Jason?" Bianca put the kettle on their small stove. "Well, yes, but..." "But what, Mama?" "Well, two? At the same time?" "Mama, I watched the Wench do more, just yesterday! Are you hurt?" "Well, no..." "Then it is all in your head! Remember that Mister Armand enjoys messing with women's heads as much as he enjoys messing with their bodies!" "How do you know?" Inez demanded. "Mama, I've lived here for several years now, and I'm NOT blind! I've watched Mister Armand's women wander around here, wondering what he was going to do to them next. You have that exact same look!" Bianca insisted. "Besides, I've had a few talks with the Wench..." "I fear the results of THAT..." "I think you'd benefit from a long talk with her, yourself! She's probably unique in that nothing that Mister Armand does to her fazes her!" Bianca set out cups, the tea bags, and honey. "At this point, how is your situation different from, say, Consuela's?" "Master Jason," Inez returned positively. "My lord Armand made it clear that Master Jason OWNS me; he doesn't OWN anyone else..." "Okay," Bianca mused, "how bad is that?" "I don't know!" Inez began to get agitated. Bianca turned from the stove and stamped her foot. "Why don't you wait and find out, then? Why borrow trouble? Why are you so upset?" "The baby..." Inez husked. "Um. Yes, that's bad. How did that happen? And how does Mister Jason feel about it?" "It just did. Mister Jason told me to go on birth control, but I couldn't; the Pope says it's not right. Besides, your father would have found the pills..." "Mama, the Wench says the Pope is just looking for more souls to rule. I think maybe she's right..." Inez smiled wryly. "My lord Armand said much the same thing. Then he asked me if I refused to eat eggs because of the fact that I was killing baby chickens!" She shook her head. Bianca blinked. THAT was an odd one... "Um, so you disobeyed Mister Jason, and there are serious consequences. That's bad. How bad is it, do you think?" The kettle had reached the point of beginning to whistle, so she removed it from the burner and began pouring. "And why are you being so careful to use this new form of address? It's just us, here..." Her mother surprised her by glancing around in total paranoia. "When my Lord Armand confronted me with my sins, he told me that very little escapes his attention in this house. When I tried to deny my guilt, he showed me a... movie? on a disk..." "A video?" Bianca supplied. "Yes, a video. A video of Master Jason taking me, and me enjoying it, loudly, to my shame. A video taken IN THIS ROOM!" Bianca blinked, and looked around, herself -- but she'd never noticed anything before, so... "Wow!" "He knows that you and the Wench discussed birth control!" Inez followed up. Bianca found herself wondering if he knew about her relieving herself in the linen closet... "Ooookay. I guess maybe you'd better, then..." She rubbed at her face. Well, Mister Armand probably didn't bother with EVERYTHING... Bianca managed to get the cups to the coffee table, and went back to collect the honey and spoons. Re-seating herself, she came back to the unanswered question: "How angry is Mister Jason?" "I... don't know," Inez replied. "My lord Armand has forbidden him to kill me or kill the baby, but..." She shook her head. "I think that in the moment that I revealed it, his rage could have resulted in my death, but my lord Armand stifled that with his presence. I believe that he will obey the injunctions that my lord Armand has laid upon him. But I ALSO believe that his anger will lead him to punish me severely, perhaps over a long period." "How do you feel about that?" Bianca asked. Inez looked up from spooning honey into her cup. "I guess I deserve it..." "I guess you do, too, Mama. I understand how it happened, but it wasn't smart." Bianca shook her head. It was the kind of mistake that SHE could be expected to make, at HER age -- not something for a grown woman to do! But Mama's upbringing was insular, and the Church was a powerful force in it... Thank God SHE was being educated in America! Even in America, however, people had strong opinions over terminating an actual pregnancy... "How did he seem when you left him, Mama?" "He and Lord Armand were laughing and joking... They were talking about what kind of uniform I would wear..." The Wilson mansion had no standard uniform for servants; Armand dictated what they wear as individuals -- whatever he decided looked good on them. Consuela wore a French maid's frock with the whole list of accessories: nylons and garters, tiny skirt that didn't cover her bare ass, push-up bra, the tiny apron and white hat... Velma wore a more standard grey dress and wide apron. Leticia, who was also black, wore a variation on this that exposed a lot more skin... Males wore various things, from Jason's business suit, to Raoul's batman's livery of tie, vest, and dress pants, to Ed's coveralls, apparently depending upon their function. Jorge wore a grey chauffeur's outfit -- very nattily, Bianca thought. And, of course, the Wench wore nothing at all... "No doubt there will be a punishment built in, somewhere," Bianca hazarded. "I don't think I can..." "Mama!" Bianca cut her mother off. "If the walls have ears, I don't think you want to give anyone ideas!" "Ulp!" Inez's mouth closed with a clop. "Well, whatever they come up with, you'll wear it," Bianca mused. "You have no choice; besides, pleasing Mister Jason should be a top priority. Under normal circumstances, I don't think that's any too onerous, despite the beatings he gives you -- but with him angry like he probably is..." She sipped her tea. "How DO you handle the beatings?" "Ummm. Well, they DO hurt... But then, he takes me, and makes me his; somehow, I add the pain to the pleasure..." "Anal sex? Oral sex?" "Daughter!" Inez looked flustered. "Dios mio!" "Well?" "Oral is... sucking?" Bianca nodded, so Inez went on, "It is a service; there is some pleasure in doing it well. And the smell, the taste, the passing of excitement back and forth... I don't cum, but I get very excited. If he does something else..." Bianca continued to eye her. "Anal... usually hurts, at the start, but it can be pleasurable. It is odd, but true..." The door flew open at that point; both women whirled in surprise. Jason stood there, eyeing them, waiting for something. Bianca supplied it: "You scared us!" Jason stepped through the door. "I require no invitation to come here -- I have property within these rooms." He gazed pointedly at Inez. "On your knees in my presence, Slut!" Inez made no argument; she went straight to her knees from the chair without going erect in between. "In fact," Jason continued, "I'm thinking about moving the pair of you out of here and into other rooms -- why should I have to come here to find you? Come here, Slut!" Inez took a moment to try to figure out how to clear the coffee table on her knees before circling behind the chair to move into Jason's reach. In the meantime, Jason addressed Bianca, "You continue to be a dependent, here, and subject to the protections a dependent enjoys -- EXCEPT that you will continue to serve the Wench until further notice! Do you understand?" "Yes, Sir." Inez knelt up before Jason, and he gathered in her braids, moving her head by tugging one and then the other -- not hard, largely because Inez did not fight the direction; it was mere play. He looked back up. "I appear to be responsible for you, at one remove, through my ownership of your mother; if you require something, I should hear about it. If you are unclear regarding your rights -- as your mother claims to have been -- you should ask either myself or Mr. Wilson. At this point, however, your mother HAS no rights; she is my property, to use as I see fit." He turned his attention to Inez, "Are you wearing panties, Slut?" "No, Master." "Good. You're not to. Bend over the chair." Inez rose and bent over the upholstered back of the chair she had been occupying, and Jason circled behind her, throwing the skirt of her housedress up. While her mother's body and the chair masked his actions somewhat, it was clear that he was dropping his pants. The hall door remained open; Bianca passed it a quick glance, but did nothing. Bianca did not see it, but the moment of penetration was clear on her mother's face; Jason began to move in her, murmuring, "I guess it's too late to worry about pregnancy..." Both of the adults were eyeing Bianca, her mother in embarrassment, and Mister Jason with a look of predatory glee. Bianca decided not to let him think he was getting away with anything. Deliberately, she picked up her teacup and announced, "I've seen this before..." Jason let out a surprised chuckle. "You have?" "Many times. Initially, it was very educational, but..." "You'll forgive me if I do not stop?" "This IS Mama's job..." Bianca feigned indifference. "I'm hoping that she enjoys it more than her last one." She settled back in her chair, maintaining eye contact with Mister Jason, who was shaking his head and displaying an expression that was about as close to pleasure as anyone had ever seen on that poker face. "You're a cool one." Jason observed. Bianca merely smiled. Inez was displaying an expression of complete mortification -- but her hips were beginning to dance. Humiliation was feeding her arousal; she was surprised and horrified that Bianca refused to leave, but something inside her was pleased she didn't. Jason turned his attention to his woman, "That dress is an annoyance, Slut -- I can't get to those fat dugs of yours! Do something about it!" Inez began working at the buttons, but she was far gone. Bianca put down her cup. "I can help..." "P--please..." Inez was only half there; an orgasm was on the way -- a BIG one! Her hands didn't work... Bianca stood and grabbed the hem of her mother's dress, tugging it up over her head. The waist caught on Inez's breasts for a moment, but a quick jerk cleared them -- the shapeless thing wasn't THAT tight. Inez had opened the buttons at the collar, so THAT wasn't an issue... "Raise your arms, Mama." Inez did so, and Bianca tugged the dress the rest of the way off. Jason didn't know what to make of little Bianca; she was a total surprise... "Thank you." Bianca's smile was predatory. "Apparently, this kind of thing is MY job, at the moment..." She stepped back and resumed her seat, apparently to coolly observe the act before her. She transferred her attention to her mother's eyes while Jason leaned forward and began mauling Inez's nipples. Inez's expression still held some humiliation, but her eyes were glazed; they were fixed upon Bianca's because they were the most compelling thing in her range of vision, but she was beyond recognizing just who owned them... Bianca watched as her mother's face, neck and shoulders reddened, then she began to shake, "AaaaaaaaAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!! CHINGAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRR!!!!!" Inez's eyes rolled up and she threw herself back against her master in an effort to get all of that delicious friction available, until it triggered the shockwaves that blasted her mind and left only vast waves of pleasure. Bianca's expression never changed, but she was aroused beyond endurance. Rising from her chair, she observed, "It looks like perhaps Mama WILL enjoy this more..." She leaned over and kissed her virtually incapacitated mother on the cheek, "Goodnight, Mama..." She nodded gravely to Mister Jason, who was obviously ejaculating in Mama, from the look on his face, and strode to her bedroom, closing the door behind her. There, the last vestiges of calm left her; she ripped off her panties and threw herself onto the bed, her right hand already delving between her fleshy outer lips. By the time Jason rose up and smacked Inez on the ass to get her attention for a cleanup suck, Bianca was already screaming her first orgasm into her pillow. ------- Jason's intent when he entered the room had been serious abuse of his slave, an establishment of unchallenged ownership. Bianca's presence had caused him to switch to potentially more potent psychological ploys designed to tie up both of the women -- but little Bianca had applied some kind of mental jui-jitsu, leaving Jason in frank admiration of the young girl! Her mother might be a simple, open-faced peasant slut, but little Bianca was a complex character who handled herself well under stress! His planned serious beating of Inez had also gone by the wayside, somewhere -- Jason found that he just wasn't angry enough to deliver it. Sighing, he delivered a ringing slap on the slut's butt. "Get up and clean me off, you silly cunt!" Inez roused herself groggily, following the tugs on her braids to a position on her knees before her master's gooey cock. The requirement was clear, and she proceeded to suck and lick, starting at her master's gooey pubic hair at the base of his cock, where things were at their messiest, and finishing with his half-hard shaft. When it was clear that she'd accomplished everything that was to be expected, Jason spurned her, pushing her head to throw her back to collapse on the floor. "Get me something to drink!" "Wh--what, Master?" Jason pondered this. "What do you have?" "Coffee, tea, water..." Inez hadn't approved of soda pop; she subscribed to the idea that it would be bad for Bianca's complexion, weight, and a dozen other things. "Anything alcoholic?" "Perhaps some Dos Equis... Master," Raoul drank the light Mexican lager. Jason liked beer, despite the fact that drinking it was less than pretentious -- but he wasn't going to drink anything that little greaser Raoul drank! "Get me a Killian's, then." Inez blinked in confusion, so he injected irritation into his voice, "What?" "I don't have that, Master!" Inez all but wailed. Certainly, Master was doing this as a pretext to beat her... Actually, beating wasn't required. Jason was learning subtlety from his mentor, Armand. "Then go and get it," he snapped pedantically. "There is a tap in the kitchen -- Velma will show you how to draw a draft beer. A tall one, I think; Velma will show you the proper glasses." His face firmed, "Go!" Inez hopped up. "Like this?" She was absolutely naked, with Master Jason's seed running down her leg. Surely... "Yes, like that!" Jason roared. "Move, or I'll give you a dozen stripes with my belt to wear!" "Master!" Inez hurried around him, being sure to stay out of reach, and took off down the hall as if the dogs were on her. Jason shook his head. So simple, so guileless... He pulled up and belted his trousers, and dropped into the chair. One could read her thought process from her face at any given moment. It was an absolute miracle that that fool Raoul had not discovered the truth years ago... Inez pattered down the hall thirty feet before the realization that she was naked in public overcame her fear of her master and brought her to a halt. She stood there, hopping from foot to foot, her mind awash. What to do? What to do? Nothing came to mind, and someone would happen along in moments to discover her shame... Inez had an incredible nudity taboo; her mother had drilled it into her almost from the moment she was aware of herself as an individual. To be standing, naked in the hallway for ANYONE to see, the proof of her harlotry running down her leg... Dios mio! A whisper of sound behind her had her dashing madly for the kitchen -- maybe Velma wasn't there... She stopped before the double door, indecisive -- what if she was? But Charles appeared at an intersection behind her, making her decision for her; better to be seen by a woman than by a man... Velma looked up as the door blasted open; she'd been slicing nectarines to send to the Boss. "Damn, Honey, you hot or somethin'? That no-good husband o' yours ain't chasin' yo' is he?" She took up a position waving her knife at the door. "Um, no..." Inez hung her head. Caught! "Why ain't yo' wearin' no clothes?" "Master Jason..." Velma tilted her head. "Massa, now... Whazzat all about?" She ran her eye up and down Inez's exposed body. "Yo' leakin' a bit..." "I -- I..." The intercom lit. "Velma?" Velma waddled to the wall unit. "Mistah J?" "Is that worthless cunt Inez with you?" "Yassuh." "Did she get my beer yet?" "Nosuh. Not yet." There was a chuckle. "I hate to tell you this, but what with the recent goings on, Mr. Wilson has taken the little fool into his employ, to take over some of her idiot husband's duties, and to assist you. Oh, and she's MINE! She works for Mr. Wilson, but I own the silly cow." "Oh. Well, she's sorta nekkid right now, suh." "I know, I fired her off that way. Show the silly bitch how to draw a Killians and send her chunky ass back to me with it." "Yassuh." Velma turned from the wall unit, her heavy body rippling to her deep chuckle. "You wanna tell me 'bout it?" "Can I have something... ?" Inez was belatedly attempting to cover the more important locations with her hands. "Why?" Velma challenged. "Yo' ain't got nuthin' Ah ain't got more of..." She shook her head, then nodded toward a coat rack. "Take an apron; can't have yo' runnin' 'round the kitchen without protection." Inez sidled over and snatched an apron; it was a big one with a wide neck strap holding up a square of cloth ALMOST big enough to hide her breasts and a lower portion wide enough to act as a skirt, even given Inez's wide hips and plush ass. She got into it; it wasn't much but it was CERTAINLY better than nothing... Velma cocked an eyebrow. "Well?" "Can we, uh, do the beer? Master will become impatient..." Velma chuckled and waddled to a cabinet, retrieving a glass. "Talk." "Is that a big one? He wants a big one..." Inez insisted nervously. Velma replaced the glass and selected a taller one, then stood there, waiting: Inez got the point. "Raoul is gone, or will be tomorrow. I went to see Mister Armand, trying to find a way to stay. Things got... crazy. Mister Armand told me that he was sending Raoul away for his sins, but I must pay for mine... He gave me to Mister Jason. As a slave, more or less. Because..." "Because yo' been fuckin' Mistah J forever?" Velma guessed. "Yes." Inez hung her head. "Well, yo' ain't got no enemies 'round here 'cause o' THAT, Honey!" Velma announced. "C'mere. Ah'll show yo' how ta work the tap..." She showed Inez where the keg was and how to operate it, drawing a beer and deliberately spilling off the head. "Yo' really my help?" Inez nodded. "Come in 'bout six, then; we'll do some bakin'. The Boss is 'bout due for some more o' your tortillas, an' Ah figger you'll be wantin' ta butter him up..." Inez nodded again, mute. Velma put a big hand on her bare shoulder, and looked her in the eye. "You do what you hafta fer Mister J an' don' worry 'bout everone else -- ain't a one a us don't owe ya fer keepin' his dander down. Now git!" Inez mouthed thanks, and headed for the door, but Velma added a warning. "Best yo' shuck that apron 'fore he sees ya, Honey. Yo' left nekkid; he'll want yo' back same way!" Inez gulped and nodded. On the way back, Inez passed Ed in the hall. There was nowhere to go, so she brazened it out, looking straight ahead as she passed him, clutching the beer. Ed wasn't paying attention, initially, but that white dress she was wearing was awful funny looking; he got a glimpse of the side of a pretty full breast, and was that her ass peeking out of the slit up the back? Ed scratched his head; he hadn't taken Mrs. Hernandez for the bare skin type... Oh, well. With Raoul on the way out, maybe she was going to get loose for a bit; he might, in her place. Maybe she'll want a little strange... No, best not. Jason's bad news... The little fantasy he'd been concocting foundered on reality before it even got started. Curiosity got the better of him, though, and he began quietly following the little Mexican woman, at some distance. Yeah, that was bare ass, all right... Inez stopped before her door, and Ed ducked into a doorway, just in time to avoid being seen. When he peered around the door facing, however, he got a treat; Inez was shrugging out of what he now recognized as a full apron, carefully juggling the beer -- and she was buck naked beneath! Okay, so, she wasn't her daughter; but she was a damned fine piece in her own right! Shit! Inez opened the door and entered, and Ed sidled up to listen from outside. Why did she get naked in the hall, for Christ's sake? The answer was immediate; Jason's voice grunted, "What took you so long, Slut? Come here, kneel up." Ed shook his head. Raoul wasn't even out of the house yet, and Jason had moved in... Ed picked up the apron; one of Velmas -- had to be. It was HUGE! Obviously, she hadn't been wearing it on the way out... Ed started to get an idea. Maybe tonight wasn't the proper time, but it could be that Little Mrs. Naked could be induced to up some pussy, if he got something on her that she didn't want Jason knowing... He headed off toward the kitchen, humming a bit to himself as he got clear of the door, the apron bunched in his hand. Let Little Mrs. Naked wonder what happened to it... Jason took a pull at his beer and eyed his prize. The stupid cunt was pregnant, something for which forgiveness was going to come hard. But other than that... Twenty-four hour availability was going to be sweet... "We need to decide upon a uniform for you. Show me your wardrobe!" Inez got up and padded off toward the bedroom, her breasts swaying and her chunky ass shimmying, and Jason followed, drinking it all in. No more waiting for that greasy little spick husband of hers to hit the door -- he could have her anytime! Inez opened the closet, vaguely surprised that it was half empty. "This is it, Master." Slowly, it dawned on her what was wrong; Raoul's things were gone! Well, that was all to the good... Jason pawed through things. More shapeless dresses like the one still heaped in the sitting room, some long skirts, some peasant blouses... Yeah, that was it! "You'll go in more or less your natural state, I think," he announced. "You'll wear skirts and these," he fingered a blouse, "exclusively. You'll wear no shoes indoors, and sandals out. No panties, and no bras, but you can wear THAT!" 'That' was a bustier; it would lift and support her breasts while exposing them. "Oh, and you will bear your breasts any time you are in my presence." "Master?" "You heard me! It doesn't matter if God himself is in the room; if I enter it, you fish the neckline of your blouse down under your breasts! Understood?" "Yes, Master." Just thinking about it left Inez mortified. "Good. It'll be even better when they get all full of milk so you can nurse our snot-nosed brat!" Jason grunted. The anger was there, flickering. "I don't suppose you have any sense about this..." "Master?" Jason fixed her with a glare, "Abortion is the sensible course..." ... But one look said it wasn't going to happen. Armand knew this, obviously. No, the stupid cow was going to carry the brat, and Jason was going to be a father, willy-nilly, like it or not. "I... can't, Master." Jason rolled his eyes. "Why am I not surprised?" He sighed. "Expect to move, as soon as I can clear it with Armand and make other arrangements. Bianca will move, too. I'm going to want to warm my feet on your sorry ass, nightly." He chuckled at her look of concern. "Little Bianca is safe from me. Actually, she's a surprise; I was impressed with this evening's little performance..." He mused a moment. "Yeah, you're going to go to sleep with my cock in your mouth, and wake up with it in your ass -- we can do THAT right up to when the water breaks!" He chuckled and turned to leave. "Make sure you make Velma happy, and handle the silver and such; I know you spent considerable time covering that fool of a husband of yours, so you'll need no instruction in THAT portion of your duties..." He took another pull on his beer and left the bedroom. Inez just stood there until the entry door slammed behind him, then collapsed on the bed. ------- Chapter 12: The Set-up Thursday morning arrived, cool but sunny. Stick sat on the front steps of the school, sunning himself; boredom had sent him to bed early and gotten him up equally early, so he was among the first arrivals. A familiar vehicle entered the parking lot, and Teddy Frick extracted himself from it. Stick eyed the approach; Teddy was strutting a bit, mebbe? "Yo!" "Yo!" Teddy returned the hail, grinning. Yeh, he looked cocky, all right. "So, how's our woman?" Stick managed not to say 'bitch, or 'ho'; it wasn't politic, he figured. Somebody might hear, and there'd be a shit storm, if and when Mary did. This was an uncommon bit of courtesy for Stick, but... Teddy kept grinning. "She was fine when I left -- but her mother wasn't! She caught me, er, in the saddle..." Stick grunted a quick chuckle. "Is it gonna be a fuckin' problem?" Teddy shrugged. "Can't say." He didn't seem to be bothered, though. In fact, he seemed pretty cocky, something new for the little guy. Mebbe this shit was good fer him, after all... "So, how was it?" "Pretty damned good!" Teddy's eyes challenged. Yeh, cocky. Well, good. "Friday still on?" "If her mother doesn't get in the way... Guess Mary will tell us." Teddy settled a bit. Stick nodded. There was nothing else to say; the next bit of info would come from Mary. Nate wheeled up next; Nora got out of the passenger door. Stick was still amazed that Nate hadn't fucked that up, yet. It was pretty obvious he hadn't, though; he was all over Nora, and she wasn't complaining. If Stick wasn't getting pussy from Mary, he'd probably be giving Nate shit; as it was, rocking the boat wasn't smart. Draper and Tenisha arrived together, too, a few minutes later; in this case, it seemed that Tenisha was the hanger, and Draper the hangee, but again, nobody was complaining. Draper settled on the step, and Tenisha settled on his lap, and Draper merely grinned a lot while Tenisha nibbled at his neck. Tuesday evening, Tenisha had lured Draper up to her bedroom, and had somehow managed to trip him and land under him with her legs open; Draper hadn't been the same, since. Once was a fluke, as far as Draper was concerned. But for Tenisha to go to all that effort to climb on his cock the second time... Stick watched out of the corner of his eye as Draper's hand disappeared beneath Tenisha's tank top; seconds later, her eyes popped, but she didn't yell... Finally, Mary hove into view; Teddy and Stick gravitated to her. "Teddy says there was some excitement, wit' your Momma last night..." Stick offered. Mary grunted. "Yeah. She read me the Riot Act after Teddy left, but she's not as hot as she could have been... Teddy, she considers to be a long-term project of mine, and therefore not too terrible; you, on the other hand..." Stick grimaced. "She figures you're just in it for the ride..." "What about Friday?" Teddy erupted. "We're gonna do it," Mary insisted, "Just make sure I don't scream!" Both boys nodded. "Teddy, it's an all-nighter. Prep your mother!" "Shit! Any ideas?" Teddy was blank. "Sleep-over?" Mary tossed out. Teddy grimaced. "Where? Stick's? Gimme a break! Uh, no offense." Stick snickered. "None taken. It was 'bout as funny to me!" "Party of some type?" Mary suggested. "Maybe. I'll come up with something. Science Club outing, or something." "Tell her you're going to do some astronomy with a friend! All night sky watching party!" Mary suggested. "Kewl! I'll have to get Randall to cover me..." Teddy enthused. "How hard is that?" Mary wondered aloud. Teddy sobered. "It'd be easier if I had something to offer..." Stick nudged Mary. "Lend him a coupla fuck flicks..." Teddy nodded. "Better than nothing..." "Ol' Randall never seen pussy! An' he's hurtin' bad! Too bad we couldn't get him the real fuckin' thing..." Stick shut up for a second, and looked guilty. "Uh, that came out wrong. I ain't sharin' -- too bad we don't have another source..." Mary, who'd been just putting on steam to take offense, went poker- faced. "Teddy, see if you can sell the videos. If you can't, though, maybe I can come up with something. Randall wouldn't be looking for prime..." Teddy shook his head. "Randall wouldn't recognize prime! Besides, I'm pretty sure he has other standards... If we were really hooking him up, I'd look for a brainy girl..." "One of THOSE might be easier to find..." Mary simpered. She ruffled Teddy's locks. "Let Mother Mary check with her contacts... DON'T promise anything; I'll let you know if I can find some bait to dangle..." She frowned a moment. "It might help if I knew what kind of equipment I was selling..." "Pecker size?" Stick grinned. " 'Bout like this..." He measured out about seven inches between two fingers. "Narrow, like mine..." He chuckled. "Stiff alla time..." Teddy snickered. Randall had a perpetual erection. "Well..." Mary mused. "THAT might help..." ------- Nate drew Nora aside. "Uh, I need to talk to ya." "Honey?" Nora looked mildly concerned. "Problem?" "Yeh." Nate stewed a moment. "Mama wants to see ya." "Okay..." Nora got cautious. "I can't see no upside. Mama ain't exactly a trophy..." "Ashamed of me?" Nora teased. "Nah. Other way 'round." Nate stewed a moment. "Mama's... a piece o' work." "Well, some people are, Honey. You deal with it." Nora rubbed his back. What was he so uptight about? "It's worse'n that," Nate sighed. "Look, Mama's a... doper. She does drugs, heavy." "Oh." What would Daddy say to THIS? Having gathered his courage, Nate plowed on, "An' everything that goes with it, too. She don't work -- well, not a regular job. Anything for a fix. Hookin' most often." He couldn't meet her eyes. "Your Daddy knows; we talked 'bout it, Sunday..." Nora's reaction was more or less the opposite of what Nate expected. Her only REAL worry about the issue was relieved by his last comment! She went back to rubbing his back, "My poor Baby! So, what do you figure she's up to?" "I dunno," Nate shrugged. "Could be anything, from tryin' to figure out what kinda white chick would want my ass to tryin' to work some angle to get money outta your Daddy..." He hesitated a moment, then: "Probably both..." Nora's hand continued to massage Nate's back without pause while she absorbed this. "Well, as long as she doesn't go nuts on me for some reason, I can handle a visit with your Mama, Honey -- and as for Daddy, he can take care of himself! Give your girl a kiss, and let's go to class..." Nate could DO that... ------- Randall Braithwaite was one of those semi-unique items that seems to populate every school, one to a customer. He was a bony, fresh-faced kid with freckles and thick eyeglasses under thick, springy hair that he currently had styled in a comic parody of a classic comb-over; such was its bulk that it looked like a toupee that was three sizes too big for his head. One look at Randall told you that he was going to grow up to be a mad scientist --but he was running a bit late on the growing-up part. What one look DIDN'T tell you was that forty percent of his attention span was perpetually given over fantasies about just about any female that drifted into view; Randall had gotten his first stiffie at about nine, and basically, it hadn't gone down since. But Randall had 'Geek' tattooed on his forehead in a color invisible to him but that fluoresced for virtually everyone else... Randall was vice-president of the Chess Club, a mover and shaker in the Computer Club (and a bit more than a 'script kiddie'), and he WAS the Astronomy Club; his eight inch Schmidt-Cassegrain reflector was its sole viewing asset. If Teddy was going to make Friday night work, Randall was the guy to make it happen. "Hey, Randall!" "Yo!" "I need a favor, Man." Teddy closed in and got conspiratorial. "Sure," Randall replied, "Let's hear it." "I need you to cover me Friday night. Tell Momma I'm with you doing an all-night Astronomy Club thing." "So you can do what?" Randall raised an eyebrow. "Spend the night with..." "Mary Nally?" Randall nudged Teddy. Randall had to be one of the few people on Earth who not only wouldn't give Teddy shit over his liaison with Mary, but would contrive to be envious. "Are you really getting that? Wow!" Teddy affected an excess of outraged propriety, "A gentleman doesn't tell!" "Yeah, right! Just a little, Man! C'mon! How big is it? What do her titties look like?" "That's a great way to lose a girl, Man!" Teddy rolled his eyes. "Telling everybody details..." Randall smirked. "This is too funny, though; I can remember when you wanted me to cover you from HER!" He mused a moment. "Yeah, maybe I should have been a real friend and thrown myself to the lions, there..." His eyes danced. "Too late, I'm already ruined," Teddy grinned back. "I guess. Good shit?" "Duh! Am I trying to date it again?" Teddy rolled his eyes. "Damn..." Randall drifted in fantasyland for a moment. "So, is this going to be a regular thing? And what do I get out of it?" "How about if I can lay hands on a couple of porn flicks you can borrow for the weekend?" "Oh, great! So you get laid, and I have to date my hand... again!" "What do you expect? That I should share?" Tim eyed him. "Well, there's that Stick dude. What's up with that?" "That's... complicated." Teddy had no excuses prepared for this. "It's a competition, I guess. One of us is going to get her, but it isn't clear which, yet. I can't be dragging in somebody ELSE -- that's for sure!" "Well, I guess you're holding up your end..." Randall looked dubious. Tales of how black dudes with serious cocks made sex slaves out of white girls weren't exactly unheard of, in his limited experience. "It's equal opportunity, thus far," Teddy asserted. "And Stick's a decent sort, once you get to know him..." "He got a monster cock?" Randall asked carefully. Best to let Teddy down easy, if that's where things were headed; Randall had seen Teddy, and wasn't that impressed. "Well, it's kinda long, but it's a lot narrower than mine," Teddy replied. "Sort of like yours..." He winked. "Mary is trying to figure out whether she likes long or thick..." "Better hope she doesn't find a guy with BOTH!" Randall snickered, then sobered. "I can get porn clips off the Net, you know..." "Clips, yeah -- full flicks, I bet not. Besides, some things are easier to get than others -- got anything you want to see in particular?" Randall frowned. "Let me think about it. I guess I'll do it, THIS time, but making my life even more uncomfortable with porn flicks isn't a long-term solution..." Teddy nodded. There had been a time when Teddy had almost offered to bleed off Randall's excess for him -- they'd even had jerk-off contests at Randall's house a couple of times, watching internet porn. But Randall was a friend, and if he'd freaked and killed their friendship... Randall was solidly pointed at girls, too, no question. "I'll talk to Mary. Maybe she can give you some inside help..." "Like what?" "A spy in the enemy camp... It'd be a lot easier to hunt one if you knew you had a shot, wouldn't it?" Now THAT made sense! "Kewl! That'd be BIG!" Randall was back in fantasyland; to have inside the dope and tactics... It wouldn't be mind- reading, but it would be a LOT better that working up the guts to go in blind... ------- Nora and Mary were at lunch. "So, tonight's the big night, huh?" Mary queried. "Yeah." Nora had a few butterflies. Daddy wasn't even really a face in a picture to her, but he WAS a voice, at this point -- and a fairly sinister one... "It's gonna be an adventure..." She mused a moment. "What about you? How's the male harem?" Mary sighed. "It gets harder instead of easier. They're both SOOO different, but SOOO good..." "So the first free shot at Teddy went well?" "I came so hard I screamed! Mother came busting in..." Mary rolled her eyes. "After he left, we went at it, hammer and tongs. The only thing Teddy has going for him is that Mother sees him as a long-term project of mine. Stick, on the other hand..." Nora nodded. She could just imagine... "Serious issues?" "Ooooooh, boy... Just about everything you could think of, but the fact that he's black tops the list -- even though she's careful to be politically correct." "So what are you doing tonight?" "Resting up for tomorrow night." Mary grinned. "We're gonna try to do a repeat of last Saturday without the front-end stress..." "Everything?" Mary shrugged. "Probably. The boys haven't gotten that out of their systems yet -- or at least, Teddy hasn't. I don't mind -- it's fun to watch..." "How do you think this is going to turn out?" "I dunno. I think Stick has his finger on the trigger; he can probably make anything happen he wants. But he doesn't seem to have realized it..." "Why should he?" Nora challenged. "He can pick you and turn out Teddy, or he can pick Teddy and turn you out. Or he can get twice the service! Why not just let the whole thing ride?" Nora pondered a bit. "As long as you can't choose between them, and as long as they continue to be interested in bi games, this thing is a whole lot more stable than it appears, as long as the Stick - Teddy connection doesn't go public..." Mary shrugged. "That's certainly a point of failure. Then again, while they'd both lose friends, it might drive them together..." She reached down and scratched a distinctly unladylike place, "I'm absolutely rubbed raw! Itches like mad..." Nora tittered. "Then it gets wet, and THAT's a downhill cycle..." "You, too?" "Tonight will be the first night since Saturday that I haven't had Nate..." "Damn. I gotta catch up? Oh!" Mary slapped her forehead. "I need to come up with a bribe for that wacko Randall to get him to cover Teddy! Preferably one with two legs and a wet spot between..." "Getting Randall laid could be a serious project!" Nora observed. "Well, he isn't picky -- that's a plus!" Mary chuckled. "The boys say he's preoccupied with the fact that he has a constant woody -- and fortunately, it's a fairly decent size... Brains are probably more serious than looks, but she'd need to have a seriously itchy clit..." "You're totally forgetting the flip side!" Nora countered, "Where would you find someone who'd WANT him?" "That's true; where would I find something like that?" Mary scratched her head. "Why not ask the expert?" Nora replied, raising an eyebrow. Two sets of female eyes shifted to a noisy table on the far side of the lunchroom where a certain brunette was holding court from her boyfriend's lap... "Yeah..." The pair got up and descended on the only sophomore at a table full of seniors. "Bobby, can we borrow Dina for a sec?" Dina Nellis was up off of Bobby McCormick's lap before he could open his mouth, turning and placing a finger over his lips to forestall any response. "Easy, Lover! Girl talk!" Bobby rolled his eyes and shrugged; he'd gotten a lot quieter, recently. Dina stepped away a few feet with Nora and Mary, "What can I do for you? Has Nate fucked up already?" "No, no," Nora replied, "Nothing like that..." But Dina's attention was already gone. "So, Mary, catching up?" Mary colored. "Well, I got lucky. Some of YOUR work set me up..." "So tell me!" "Well, some of it's top secret, but Nate going to Nora and Draper going to Tenisha left Stick without a ride. Teddy was scared to go home with me alone..." "Kewl." Dina eyed the pair. "Okay, if current relationships are stable, why do I have the feeling I'm about to match make?" Dina had shaken up the place on Prom Night, and she and Bobby had managed to take some of the pieces and put them together in interesting new patterns... "We -- I -- have a new problem," Mary began. Dina merely looked impish and waited. "Teddy's staying overnight tomorrow night, but his mother is overprotective. We figured out a pretty safe excuse, but we need Randall's cooperation..." "Mad Doctor Braithwaite?" Dina giggled. "Come clean -- it's not just you and Teddy tomorrow night, is it? You can tell Mama Dina..." "How do you DO that?" Mary shook her head. "Okay, we MIGHT be able to get him to cover tomorrow, but we're kind of looking for future goodwill, if you know what I mean. And it's generally unknown, but..." "... Randall's a major lech," Dina finished. "Some people are SO blind..." She shook her head. Nora just blinked. "He's packing, too, isn't he?" Mary was beyond surprise. "So I'm told." She held up her hands for a measurement, relating Teddy's info on the subject. "A bit narrow, but long and ever-ready..." "Okay... I don't like one-nighters. Makes me feel like a pimp. What do YOU think he needs?" "Teddy and Stick seem to think that the physical piece is less important than brainpower -- as long as the candidate can take considerable heat..." "Yeah, he's probably going to try to wear it out. Well, you two know a lot of your contemporaries -- who measures up? If brains are important, let's start there..." The three stood, pondering. "Well, there's..." Nora began, "No, she's taken. Ummm..." "Looks are low priority, Girls. Surely, there is a deserving female that you've hung out with..." Dina admonished. "Well, there's Darla Jean..." Nora offered. "Yessss! Perfect!" Dina enthused. "Shy, brainy... She's pretty thin, and not well-endowed, though. Question is, can she take the heat? What about sex?" "Any girl who dates her hairbrush handle as often as Darla Jean does can probably handle a dick!" Mary replied. "We, uh, had a couple of sleepovers when we were younger... That's top secret info -- please don't blab it..." Dina nodded, lips pursed. "When was this? How old were you?" "Thirteen, fourteen..." "Any indications she's nailed a boy?" "Nope, she's pretty shy. We fell out when she started with the brain trust, but you know how THEY are..." Mary chuckled. Nora looked on, bemused. How WERE they, actually? "Yeah, no common sense. Totally transparent. Even if she kept it hidden, the guy wouldn't." Dina grinned. "Okay, so how do we work it?" Nora asked. "Well, it's a two-step process," Dina related. "You provide a bit of privileged information, then you do expectation setting. Are we being sneaky?" "With Darla Jean? Maybe," Mary replied. "Since I need to give Randall something, probably not, on his end..." "Oooookay... One way or another, Darla Jean needs to know about Randy Randall's ever-ready assets. That's probably enough for her; she's already hunting in the brain trust. But she's so bad at it that we'll have to give Randall the word and hope he can carry the ball..." Dina opined. "So, what do we tell him, exactly?" Nora asked. Dina shrugged. "Tell him Darla Jean has an itchy clit, but she's chicken -- with any luck, that's enough. Basically, it sounds like they're made for each other. If Randall can bring himself to move at all, it will take care of itself!" "Nothing else?" Mary was dubious. Dina shook her head. "If it isn't really possible in the first place, it's not gonna happen. What you do is tear down the last couple of barriers and let nature take its course... Most times, things don't happen because people don't have a key piece of information or two, things that let them know it's all possible. Sometimes, you have to go the other way, letting someone know that whatever wild dream they have needs to be put away, but there is a perfectly acceptable substitute..." "Or that something will work if you're willing to put up with the downside..." Nora mused. "Exactly," Dina agreed. "In this case, we might have to give Randall classes in how girls think, which is a pretty straightforward thing. But approaches to Darla..." She tousled her curls, distractedly, while thinking. "I'll talk to Teddy about it. Maybe we can come up with something," Mary said. "Kewl. One day, I'm gonna want to hear ALL about what you two are up to..." Dina waved and headed back to Bobby's lap. "I have an idea," Mary confided. "I want to get it rolling with Teddy, and then we'll ring in Darla Jean..." "How?" Nora wanted to know. "Casual conversation... We'll discuss my sex life in Health class, and I'll ring in Randall. But first, I want to rig the setup..." The girls adjourned, and Mary went off to chase down Teddy before lunch was over. She found him playing chess with Randall, who was leaning on him pretty hard to get something for the favor. "Oh, good! I get both of you! That makes it easier!" Teddy and Randall looked at each other, both erupting, "Huh?" Mary got to the point. "Randall, I have an idea, but we need to flesh it out into a plan... What's the cover story?" "Why?" Randall was instantly suspicious. "Because if we can make it serve to ease YOUR little problem, too, that would be convenient." "Teddy!" Randall was mortified. Mary OBVIOUSLY knew too much! "Heyyy," Teddy made shift to defend himself. "Oh, stop it, for chrissakes! Jeezus, Randall, you're never gonna get that thing handled if nobody knows about it! Now, look, what's the plan? Astronomy Club?" Mary moved them on to business. "Yeah," Randall agreed. "It's an excuse for an all-nighter." "Okay. Are there any girls in the Astronomy Club?" Randall actually recoiled in his seat. "Why, uh, no..." Mary eyed him sardonically. "And why is that?" The simple truth was that it hadn't occurred to any of the members. The Astronomy Club was several years old and pre-dated interest in girls, generally; add the fact that none of the membership was particularly successful with women, and things became clearer. Late night at the Astronomy Club usually featured wistful talk about the charms of this girl or that, viewing of porn mags or the occasional video clip while awaiting a particular celestial event... "Things are changing a bit, aren't they?" Mary pressed. "Jimmy has Amy Kelleher, now, and Teddy's dating me... While we might not be that interested, there are some brainier girls out there -- maybe you should lift the bar?" "Yeah?" Randall was wary. "Like who?" "Darla Jean Nevins comes to mind..." Randall froze and started thinking furiously. Yeah, Darla Jean was smart. Okay, so what? How did that help him? She wasn't any sexpot... "Okay, I see your point. But I'm not sure where you're going with it." Mary just missed stamping her foot. Boys were SOOO dense... "What do you think of Darla Jean?" "She's okay. Pretty smart. Team player. Easy to work with. But she's a girl, so that'd kind of dampen conversation about girls while we are setting up for the next observation... "About that little disadvantage," Mary simpered. "What do you think of her AS a girl?" "Uuuuhhh..." Randall mentally catalogued her assets. Darla Jean was a narrow-framed redhead with -- well there were tits in there, but they'd never been much on display. 'A' cup, maybe? Long, thin, straight red hair in the darker range, a really wide mouth which kind of pulled her face out of shape; she was always pulling that fat lower lip... Those fifties eyeglasses... Randall sighed; his were crap, too... "Well, she's no Pamela Anderson." "Jugs are important?" Mary asked. "Besides, Pamela couldn't hold up her end of a conversation with you, after... Forget I said anything..." "Whoa! Whoa! I didn't say I wasn't interested; besides, you've got a point about talk..." Darla Jean was a big question mark as a sex object, but at least she made a decent lab partner... "So, what are you thinking?" "Well, I was thinking we might kill two birds with one stone; you cover Teddy, and maybe you get a shot at getting laid..." "How?" Randall still didn't have a grip on what Mary's devious little mind was cooking up... "Well, first, you set up the meeting for tomorrow night. Simultaneously, you and Teddy let it be known that recent events have led to a recruiting drive for female members... At the last minute, of course, Teddy and I will back out; worst case, you get Jimmy Hightower and his new girlfriend, you and Darla Jean in the dark... Jimmy won't be able to keep his hands off Amy, guaranteed, which will put certain thoughts in Darla Jean's head. Best case -- it's just the two of you, under the stars..." Jimmy was the other primary member of the Astronomy Club -- and his action had recently started being well taken care of by Amy, who wasn't quick, but was sweet and mothering and had a serious sex drive... Randall wished he'd seen THAT coming; Amy was built! Well, maybe over-built... "So, that's it? I just don't see how you can throw Darla Jean and I in a room together and expect sparks..." "Randall, it's all in what you know -- so listen up! Darla Jean runs a lot hotter than she appears to -- a WHOLE lot! But she doesn't know how to let it out, and nobody's ever gone in to get it, if you know what I mean. You need to get inside her guard; hold her hair while she's looking through the eyepiece, help her with positions, that kind of thing. We're going to prep her a bit -- give her a few of your finer qualities to think about, you know? I think... Yeah. I think you need to understand where she'll be. If you do something, and she doesn't react, that's not a bad thing. She'll just be kind of frozen while she tries to figure out what's up. The only time you're in any danger is if she screams bloody murder and slaps you; anything less is probably just playing to the crowd..." "Like, plausible deniability?" "Exactly. If she hits you with, 'Randall, you really shouldn't be doing that, ' and it's at less than a hundred decibels, she's not serious..." Mary grinned. "Of course, it won't pay to be TOO clumsy -- but you'll have all night..." "Yeah." Randall's eyes glowed. "I'll get started." "This isn't guaranteed, you know..." Mary figured she'd better have an out. "A hundred things could go wrong." "Yeah, yeah." Randall was in fantasyland; little things didn't matter. "Let me plan things a bit with Teddy, here..." He scratched his head. "Can I get the flicks, too? In case it all crashes and burns?" "Sure," Mary chuckled, "Ta ta..." Randall watched her leave. "She's scary, Man." "She's a genius," Teddy asserted, "Just a different type..." "Okay, so, what about Jimmy? Do we tell all, or what?" "Jeez, I dunno. I mean, we could tell him that I'm not gonna be there, but not mention that you're gonna try to romance Darla Jean... Then again, he might help, if he knows..." "Let's call him." Jimmy was close, so they managed a huddle. "Look, I want to do an all-night observation tomorrow night," Randall announced. Jimmy grimaced; he was going to have to choose between the stars and Amy... But Randall was right there, suspiciously, with a solution. "Yeah, I know. Look, since you guys are suddenly studs, I figured we ought to open the Astronomy Club to girls..." Jimmy was shocked. While it was vastly inconvenient under the new regime, the Astronomy Club was a male bastion, where the female could be discussed and drooled over at length without worry. Given this unstated secondary purpose, Jimmy's response was reactionary. "Why?" "I have my reasons," Randall laughed, "chief among which is that I get to invite girls, too!" Teddy was grinning like a Cheshire cat; obviously, something was up. "I'm not hearing it all, here..." Jimmy rasped. "Not yet. It goes like this..." Randall began. ------- In Health class, Mary and Amy had a shot at Darla Jean, who sat in the next row. Mister Peters (boy, did he catch shit over THAT name during Sex Ed!) had just set up a group study, and wasn't getting too deep into moderation, giving the girls a chance to gab... Nora flicked a glance at Darla Jean and kicked off: "So, what's this about tomorrow night?" Mary rolled her eyes. "I guess I'm gonna get stuck outside, while the boys play with a telescope; it's some Astronomy Club thing..." Astronomy Club? Darla Jean blinked, which was all either of the other girls needed to know she was listening. Nora set the hook, "Astronomy Club? I thought that was a guy thing..." "Well, it is, but the guys are mostly dating, now, so the rules are apparently changing. I'm dating Teddy, and Amy is dating Jimmy..." Darla Jean fumed. That SLUT Amy Kelleher had swept in, waved her huge, floppy titties at Jimmy, and he was GONE! The fact that she'd never made anything resembling an overt move didn't keep her from seeing the whole thing as a poach... Mary continued, uninterrupted by Darla Jean's thought process, "... so if they don't allow girls as at least mascots, the thing will die of malnutrition. What they REALLY need is a couple of SMART girls to hold up our end..." Darla Jean had been rebuffed at thirteen, denied membership to that august body due to her sex. "The Astronomy Club has been locked down for years. Those three won't want any female competition in attendance..." Mary pretended surprise at the interjection, "Well, Honey, things ARE changing. With Teddy and Jimmy both distracted by biology, Randall could probably use a good lab partner. And being female CERTAINLY couldn't hurt -- poor Randall..." She snickered. "Poor Randall?" Darla Jean was sucked in, thoroughly. "Yeah..." Mary smirked a bit. "Teddy broke down and gave me the straight dope. One of the big reasons the Astronomy Club was strictly male was that those three little horndogs spent a considerable amount of time at every meeting drooling over girls... Now Jimmy has a girl, and Teddy has a girl, and poor Randall is stuck without -- and he's the horniest of the lot!" "Huh?" You'd have had to hit Darla Jean with a sledgehammer to surprise her more. "Oh, come on, Darla Jean! You've been hanging out with the brain trust for years! Don't tell me that you don't know that they're generally hung better than the football team and more energetic than the Energizer Bunny! Why you didn't trip Jimmy or Randall and lie down under him I'LL never know! God knows, either one of them is better than a hairbrush!" Mary covered her mouth, and Darla Jean turned eight shades of red. "Oops! Sorry!" Darla Jean flashed a glance at Nora, who threw up her hands. "I'M not telling!" "Well..." Darla Jean turned back to Mary, "Don't tell me that Teddy is hung like a horse!" Mary shrugged. "For length, no. But he's this thick!" She held up her hand in a 'C' shape that indicated considerable girth. "Fucking Teddy is like being done with a toilet plunger -- if you have a nerve anywhere in reach of that thing, he's gonna find it! That boy's NEVER gonna take a cherry! It's physically impossible!" She smiled slyly. "Yeah, okay, he's a little quick on the first pass -- but he's good for two or three, and once the edge is off, he lasts plenty long..." "Well, okay, that's a little more realistic, I guess," Darla Jean opined. "But Jimmy? And Randall?" "Ummm, I can't reveal my sources, but I have it on good authority that both of them are somewhat above average in length," Mary insisted. "Randall, in particular, is basically hard any time a girl comes within twenty feet of him! I didn't realize it until someone pointed it out to me, but that's not a pencil case behind that zipper..." "Uh... huh..." Shit! Had she been BLIND? Darla Jean wriggled uncomfortably in her seat. Would she ever look at Randall the same way again? "Besides, have you seen the look on Amy's face this week? That girl is getting serious sex -- and she's built to take it!" Nora interjected. Darla Jean's frown told them both that Jimmy's relationship with Amy wasn't a favorite subject, but then that was water under the bridge, wasn't it? "There's a lot of happy girls this week," Darla Jean mumbled, thinking... Thelma. Thelma would know -- not about Randall, maybe, but about Jimmy. Thelma was a friend, the fact that she as also friends with that slut Amy notwithstanding. Thelma would have the straight poop on Jimmy. Next period... "Yeah, there sure are..." Nora colored. "So, you want me to ask Teddy if you can join?" Mary asked. "Okay. I don't expect much, though." "We're doing some watching tomorrow night..." "Overnight?" That could be a problem... "Where?" "I dunno." Mary's indifference was unfeigned; she wouldn't be there. But Darla Jean didn't know that... "I'll ask." "I... might need a cover story..." Darla Jean ventured. Somehow, Mary kept a straight face, despite the fact that she considered this to be comically ironic. "Well, you can say you're sleeping over with me, I guess..." "It'll even be true..." Darla Jean liked that; it made for a fine justification. 'Not really, ' Mary thought, but she answered, "Yeah. Here comes Mr. Peters..." The trio shifted subjects. ------- A determined Darla Jean hunted down Thelma Frankel outside World Civ, "Thelma? Can we talk?" "Uh, sure..." Thelma followed her to a quiet place beneath a stairwell. What was THIS? "Thelma, I, uh, need to know something..." Darla Jean began. How in the Hell did she justify this? "Somebody told me a rumor, and I'm trying to figure out whether I'm being taken for a ride." "Okay." Thelma looked suspicious, but that was it. "Actually, they told me a bunch of things, but most of them aren't checkable. But one is, I think... It's about Jimmy, and kinda embarrassing..." "Go ahead." Thelma was eyeing her sidelong. "Um, Amy might have mentioned this..." Darla blushed. "Is Jimmy... big? His penis, I mean..." "It's good sized," Thelma allowed. "Why?" "Somebody told me that someone else was hung, and included Jimmy in the group... Is he good? I mean, what does Amy say about it?" Thelma smiled cattily. "I don't know if I should say..." "Please? This isn't really about Jimmy, I promise! No one else will ever know! But if they lied about Jimmy, they probably lied about the other person, too..." Thelma and Darla Jean had spent a few nights together pining for the things they were missing; they shared seriously unfulfilled appetites -- so Thelma relented. "Amy doesn't have to tell me -- I've SEEN Jimmy in action! He's hung, all right -- MUCH bigger than you'd expect -- and he fucks like a machine! He spent -- Gawd, I dunno -- twenty-five minutes? -- at one sitting, pounding Amy to Heaven again and again -- right before my eyes!" Darla Jean arched an eyebrow. "When was this? And what were YOU doing?" "Prom night. At Jimmy's." Thelma preened. "I was resting; Danny wore me out!" "Danny! Danny the Wop?" Darla Jean was thunderstruck. "You SLEPT with Danny the Wop?" "Yes..." Thelma looked defensive. "What's wrong with that?" "Uh, nothing." Darla recovered her wits. "HE must be huge..." "Oh, actually, I think he's kind of normal," Thelma replied, offhand. "Jimmy's bigger. It's probably a good thing -- Jimmy'd probably KILL me! I couldn't take him going on forever like that. Danny gets me where I'm going, then he cums -- and we can both rest up..." The euphoric look on Thelma's face was one of the weirdest things Darla Jean had ever seen! "Uh, great! I'm happy for you." She eyed Thelma. "You're still dating, right?" If they weren't, and Thelma freaked... "Oh, yes!" Thelma's eyes shone. "We're going out tomorrow night!" Darla Jean blinked. "To the Astronomy Club?" Thelma frowned in confusion. "No..." "Oh, okay." Darla Jean looked around. "We'd better get back; the bell..." The bell rang; both girls made for class at a dead run. ------- Randall was in World Civ, which made for a distraction -- especially since he seemed to be peering at her with this considering expression on his face. Randall was a little weird, but then, Darla Jean mused, she was, too. Right now, she was awash; Mr. Considine couldn't hold her attention if he was standing over her -- which he did, at least three times, that she noticed. Darla Jean was in her own little world... New vistas had opened up; she was going to crack the Astronomy Club -- if not in time for tomorrow night, then soon. Thanks to Mary, she had a target -- Randall -- and she had inside information. But the vindication offered by membership was only part of the plan; once there, she had an inside shot at handling another, more urgent problem. SOMEHOW, she was going to work out a way to do as Mary had suggested -- trip a boy and fall under him! She didn't know HOW yet, but it was HIGH TIME! For Mary underestimated just how sexually frustrated Darla Jean was, by an order of magnitude! Only the fact that she was scared to death and had no tools for dealing with boys had kept her from fulfilling what was a constant daydream; Darla Jean wanted her pussy plowed, regularly, again and again, to ease that awful itch that arrived when her tits had swollen and fur had appeared on her twat! Twat -- she loved that word -- she'd picked it up reading Internet porn, and in her mind it described what she had, perfectly! Darla Jean fell asleep every night with her hands in her crotch, tugging her leathery lower lips and rolling her pea-sized clit around under its long hood; it took her two or three orgasms to settle down enough to get to sleep! No, Darla Jean needed a boy -- actually, she needed a MAN -- well, really, she needed a STUD! But she didn't know how to play the games girls and boys play; they made no sense to a mind well-grounded in logic. Careful questioning of other girls (Mary knew too much, and had a big mouth, as she'd SO aptly demonstrated) had revealed that, generally, the 'studs' on campus weren't -- despite their accomplishments at sports and other endeavors, most of them were apparently pretty average in the sack. Darla Jean hadn't been able to formulate a method for detecting studs that seemed to work. Here at school, the only guy who seemed to meet the stereotype was Tim Vincent, the captain of the wrestling team -- and he was recently taken... Darla Jean envied Dolores something awful; she just smiled, all the time... School just didn't seem to be a hothouse environment for studs; Darla Jean had been seriously considering 'falling prey' to an 'old guy' of twenty-five or so -- but this seemed to present even more problems! She couldn't get comfortable enough to approach sex with her peers, for chrissakes! How was she gonna find an old guy? Then Mary had opened her mouth, and a lightning bolt struck! The brain trust were studs! Probably ALL of them! It was like 'Revenge of the Nerds' or something! And these were guys that she AT LEAST had a passing acquaintance with, since to an extent they were kindred souls... Even armed with this knowledge, Darla Jean had to act fast; apparently, there was a fire sale on dick in the brain trust! Jimmy was gone; from the sound of things, maybe that was all to the good -- she wasn't sure she could handle what Jimmy had to offer! But she'd fantasized about just about all of the brain trust at one time or another, (somehow, Little Teddy hadn't qualified, despite what Mary had just told her), including Randall, who'd spent a year as her lab partner in Physical Science. They'd seldom passed more than a few words, and never off-topic, but Randall had treated her with respect... It was an irony of Darla Jean's nature that she'd developed the tools early to hide it totally from view. Her sensuality screamed to be let out, but the moment an opportunity appeared, she became locked in an Iron Maiden of fear; she became wooden, her face froze -- even her voice became devoid of emotion while inside her hunger screamed to be let out. A telepath would be driven away by the shock waves of emotion running under that frigid surface, but nothing showed... Periodically, Darla Jean managed to do something that serious analysis might reveal as a flirt, tease, or come-on -- but no one was analyzing... ------- Well, that wasn't quite true. Randall was running every memory he had of Darla Jean through an analysis, looking for ANYTHING that might suggest that she was hot... And, wonder of wonders, he'd found a couple! He'd missed those comments, or those wooden movements that caused strange collisions, or those looks... They'd been working, colleagues, and he'd been TRYING to keep things professional. But they'd been there, and maybe they meant something... Randall shifted the cross-legged slouch he was using to hide his hard-on, thinking, 'I need another talk with Mary... ' Darla Jean, sensitized, caught the movement, and took a look. Jeezus, there WAS a tent there! But Randall was looking back, so she shifted her eyes guiltily away... ... to Mr. Considine, who was just finishing a question with "... the battle of Hastings? Miss Nevins?" "Uuuh, Sir?" Darla Jean was dead in the water, which was VERY unusual. Frankly, she merely hadn't heard the question... Mr. Considine's instinct to embarrass was unerring. "Apparently, you need help. Mr. Braithwaite?" Randall was also dead in the water. "Sir?" Mr. Considine grunted, exasperated. "Is ANYONE awake?" ------- Eventually, thankfully, the bell rang, and they all got out of there. Darla Jean rushed off to chase down Mary, who had the whole thing orchestrated... "Mary? What did they say?" "Oh, Honey, I haven't asked yet -- but there's Teddy..." This was no accident; they'd been waiting. "Teddy, about the Astronomy Club -- can Darla Jean join, Hon?" Teddy glanced up from his homework with feigned indifference. His eyes took in Darla Jean. "Yeah. She's on the short list." He addressed her directly, "We're going to do an all-night observation tomorrow night..." "Where?" "The Knob." Darla knew the Knob; it was a bare, rocky hill near Jimmy's house. There was a cave just under the peak that the boys draped some canvas over the entrance of and used as a ready room and warm-up tent. Darla Jean had tried to sneak up on them there, once, when she was twelve, but was unsuccessful; Jimmy apparently had radar... (Actually, the boys had motion detectors -- Jimmy's dad was independently wealthy, not that anyone really noticed, since Jimmy didn't seem to know... ) "Okay, what time?" "Seven? Bring warm clothes and a sleeping bag..." Darla Jean nodded and wandered off; she had a LOT to think about -- and it was just in time. Randall surfaced, and mumbled, "Mary, can I, uh have a word with you?" "Sure, Hon, what's up?" "I've been thinking about Darla Jean." He scratched his head. "Usually, she's like one of the guys, but there have been a couple of times when she'd do strange things -- nothing obvious, or anything, but..." "Honey, Darla Jean's tools for dealing with boys are no better than your tools for dealing with girls! What do YOU do when you're in close and excited?" Mary's eyes were merry. "I, uh, get, like, poker faced, and VERY careful, so I don't get caught making a fool of myself. Maybe I do some little, not-so-obvious thing -- something I can claim was an accident..." Randall's eyes got HUGE. "Uuhhhh..." "Well, well..." Mary tittered, "How original..." "Fuck..." Randall turned to wander off. "Randall?" "Huh?" "Darla Jean is coming..." Randall didn't trust himself to speak; he was reprocessing memories again... He nodded and wandered off. "This is fun!" laughed Teddy. ------- Chapter 13: Nora Dines with Her Father Nate was less than thrilled with Nora's plans for the evening, but there was no stopping them. Getting in front of Nora's Daddy was kinda like stopping to tie your shoe in front of a steamroller -- not smart. He took her home, and they necked a while, then he departed for home. Nora decided that Daddy rated a better than average turnout, so she did the whole dress thing, a nice cocktail dress in blue with a wide skirt that de-emphasized her hips, and matching heels, all left over from the Homecoming Dance. What a waste THAT had been... Seven o'clock came, and Jorge knocked on the door. Nora didn't make the dapper little man wait; she went out the door with a final nod to her mother, who was hopping from one foot to the other, trying to figure out what kind of advice to give her daughter for this interview... The limo ride was accomplished in complete silence; Nora and Jorge had nothing, really, to say to one another on this evening; Nora was going to see it all for herself. The house was imposing; a finely built black woman in a maid's costume that managed to be utilitarian while exposing a bit of cleavage and a good bit of leg opened the door for her, and called her 'Miss'; there was a deference there, a respect for her, apparently JUST because of who she was. This struck Nora as pretty ironic, but she went with it. Armand met her in what was apparently a library; her father was tall, dark, powerful-looking; he radiated another kind of power, just in the way he said, "Thank you, Leticia." He turned to Nora, and greeted her by holding her right hand in both his and delivering a quick squeeze. "Have a seat." Nora gingerly settled in an overstuffed leather chair. "A drink? Some wine, perhaps?" "I'm not old enough, Daddy." "Nonsense. In your own home?" The pair eyed one another, and Armand shrugged. Obviously, Nora wasn't ready to do any serious trusting of her male parent. "A Coke, perhaps?" Nora nodded. "Please." Armand thought about it, and hit a switch on his desk. "Consuela?" "Master?" Armand ALMOST visibly flinched; well, she'd learn, anyway... "Please bring my daughter a Coke. In a refrigerated, unopened can. Bring a glass, and an ice bucket, too." "Yes, Master." Armand settled in a chair opposite his daughter; this was going to be more difficult than anticipated. "I suppose you're wondering why I initiated this meeting after all this time..." "Well, yes, Daddy." Nora waited, staring him down. Armand steepled his fingers. "With the onset of your relationship with Mr. Adams, it appears that you have made the transition into young adulthood, and your mother's largely solitary task is complete. That being the case, it is time to complete your introduction to the real world." "I see. What does that mean, exactly, Daddy?" "It means that I have stayed out of the way while your mother taught you her concept of what is right and proper -- which I agree with, in the main. She taught you concepts such as fairness, and justice, and respect -- things I'd have watered down too much. So you know what is right..." Armand picked up a snifter of brandy and made the liquor whirlpool in the glass before taking a sip, "... but you're a babe in the woods where reality is concerned. I intend to teach you to protect yourself from your more noble impulses and to broaden your experience." There was a knock, and a beautiful Hispanic woman in a black French Maid's frock that left virtually nothing to the imagination entered, bearing a tray. With a nod to Armand, she offered the tray's contents -- the Coke, presented just as her father had ordered -- to Nora. When Nora reached for the can, the woman withdrew fractionally, and murmured, "I can open it if you like, Miss." Nora shrugged and nodded. Consuelo placed the tray on a side table and opened the can. "Ice, Miss?" "Please." Consuelo used tongs to place three cubes into the glass and poured, then again offered the glass from the tray. This time, Nora took it and sipped. "Thank you." "You're welcome, Miss." "Consuelo," Armand rumbled. "Master?" Consuelo's regard shifted from Nora to Armand as if a light switch had flicked, or a spotlight swung from one to the other. "Tell Velma thirty minutes, in the dining room. Inez can assist in the service." Raoul was gone, the woman could take up the slack. "You will supervise." "Yes, Master." Consuelo withdrew; Nora got a look at her face as she closed the door, and wondered what caused such seriousness. Something her father had said had caused the woman concern... Nora put two and two together, "Inez is new?" Armand nodded. "Very. She has been here in the house for some time, but not as a servant; her husband held that position until I sent him away for being inept. Inez asked for and got a job fulfilling as many of his duties as she is capable of, and I believe that she will be an improvement, but she is currently inexperienced." "... And making her responsible means that this maid -- Consuelo -- can be punished for Inez's mistakes..." Nora mused. "Correct." Armand nodded approval. Nora wasn't an absolute fool... "Would you care to take a look around?" "Okay." "Bring the glass, if you like." For the next half hour, they wandered from room to room, Armand pointing out this or that to his daughter and answering questions. Finally, they arrived at the dining room, where a tall, blond man with a hard blank face waited. "This is Jason, my assistant. If you discover that you have needs and I am not immediately available, feel free to transmit them to him and he will see to their fulfillment. He is my right hand in many things." Jason tilted his head slightly, as close as he came to a bow, while frigid blue eyes examined her, "Miss." Jason seated Armand at the table, then circled it and seated Nora. Finally, he went to the wall intercom unit and spoke quietly for a moment, before moving to a sideboard and extracting a bottle of wine. Nora and her father sat across from one another at the center of a long table that could probably seat twenty; obviously, the seats were chosen to create an intimacy that sitting twenty feet from one another would not have accomplished. Jason brought around a bottle, a white, for Armand to approve; he nodded and Jason went through the entire opening procedure, including the taste test. Jason didn't ask; he filled Nora's glass, too. Nora weighed her options and decided that she could merely refuse to touch it -- there was water available -- so she allowed it without comment. Pouring complete, Jason seated himself a few chairs down, an act that proclaimed, "I'm not just a servant." Nora decided it was time to go on the attack, "So, where is it?" Consuelo arrived, followed by a darker, heavier Hispanic woman carrying a tray. This must be Inez... Nora examined the pair; Consuelo was a thin, light-skinned woman with a model's build and a classical Spanish complexion and features; Inez was heavier, more robust, older, with tawny skin that suggested a lot more Indian blood. Inez was dressed totally differently than the other staff Nora had seen; instead of one variation or another on a servant's livery -- even a cliche like Consuelo's -- she was done up as a peasant, in a white cotton peasant blouse and a wide, dark skirt. Odd. Even more odd was what occurred the moment she detected Jason in the room! Whipping the tray to a sideboard, she snatched at the neckline of her blouse, tugging it down until it rode under a pair of large, heavy round breasts. Then she made to pick up the tray again, obviously red-faced and shaken, and gamely turned to approach the table. "Stop!" Jason commanded. Inez managed not to spill the soup and stood there, frozen. Armand, whose back was turned to this activity, absorbed Nora's look of shock and turned to see what was going on. As he absorbed Inez's state of undress, Jason murmured, "Sorry, Sir. I gave Inez specific instructions as to what she was to do when she entered a room with me in it." "I see." Anger and amusement warred in Armand, but amusement won out; Nora needed to know what went on here, after all. Besides, Inez was SOOO entertaining... Inez was awash in humiliation and embarrassment. The men, well, they were men, and they both had the right to use her, let alone see her nudity. But there was a young girl here! Inez frankly couldn't think of a thing more embarrassing than to have those shocked and curious eyes dwell upon her exposure... Jason offered to put a patch on things, "I can override the command..." Armand shrugged. "Too late, I think. Besides, it's instructive." He turned back to Nora, who was watching the poor woman shake, "We do things a bit differently around here." Nora shifted her attention to her father and nodded, thoughtfully. Armand turned to Consuelo, "Alert the Wench -- she will deliver dessert." Consuelo nodded. Jason waved his hand, "Continue." Inez lurched into motion, and delivered Armand's soup, then rounded the table and delivered Nora's. Nora found that she couldn't resist looking at Inez's heavy mounds as they went pendant while she bent before her to deliver the bowl. "Thank you, Inez." Inez started, but replied, "You're welcome, Miss," in a soft, Spanish accent. Armand looked on, amused. Nora was doing quite well, he thought. His mind returned to the conversation before the service interruption, "Where is what, Daughter?" Inez, backing away, froze, and hissed a gasp at another shock! Lord Armand's daughter!? She'd heard rumors of such a legendary creature, but as far as she knew, the girl, if she existed at all, had never put in an appearance here in the several years she'd occupied the servant's quarters... She gazed at Nora in frank wonder. Armand chuckled. "Usually, servants are impassive; Inez, however, is an open book, something I'm learning is wildly entertaining..." "I see that," Nora observed, turning to the older woman. "No one is more surprised at my presence here than I am, I assure you," she added, smiling warmly. Inez, reassured, bobbed her head and darted off, pausing to curtsey before Jason, whose teeth were showing. "Try not to spill anything." "Yes, Master." Inez pattered out. A bemused Nora noted that she was barefoot. There was a weird dynamic, here, with Jason, too... Nora gathered herself in. "Where is the dungeon, Daddy?" Armand chuckled. "After dinner. No reason to spoil your digestion." ------- In the hall, Inez repositioned her blouse. "Is that REALLY Lord Armand's daughter?" "Yes," Consuelo replied curtly. She hadn't decided whether Inez's pattern of goof-ups was going to get her thrashed or not. Certainly with both Master Armand and Jason in the room... "It IS her first visit; I've only seen her on Master's surveillance videos, before..." She waved Inez along. "We need to prepare for the salad course..." She frowned. "Generally, we try NOT to react to every little thing said and done in our Master's presence!" she scolded. ------- Nora smiled and applied herself to the soup, which was Mulligatawny, a curried, creamy, chicken-broth concoction that tasted wonderful. After a few spoonfuls, she asked, "I didn't notice Consuelo curtseying to Jason..." Armand nodded. "Jason's position confers upon him supervisory control over all of the inside servants, as well as dozens of other things, but recently we've branched out into new territories, such as chattel slavery. Inez is unique in many ways, not the least of which is the fact that while she is my employee, she is a slave to Jason. There are reasons for this that may require explanation at some point, but for now, let's just say that they are victims of a unique set of circumstances." "Isn't slavery illegal?" "Strictly speaking, yes; however, if one voluntarily gives up one's civil rights... This is distinctly new, largely because it doesn't conform to my normal preferences for the conduct of a relationship -- but I have recently discovered that some people just prefer to handle things simply -- simple goals, simple behavioral requirements, simple needs... Inez is new to the situation, but has a certain fatalistic temperament; while there might be some question of coercion in her case, ultimately, I don't think she sees it as an issue." Armand returned his attention to his soup. "Are there others?" Armand nodded, swallowed, and amplified, "One. I'll let you ask her the details of her disposition yourself; I'm still at a loss, in some respects. I had to divert one of the staff to duties as an overseer; slaves require closer supervision." "To keep them in line?" Nora asked. "More to keep them feeling gainfully employed, supported, and protected." Nora nodded, sipping from her water glass. Armand smiled to himself; the wine was there as a temptation -- the longer Nora took to try it, the more impressive her restraint was to him. Jason had furthered his objective by not asking before pouring Nora's glass; to a certain extent, the man was a mind reader... ------- In the kitchen, Velma supplied the Caesar salad, and Inez collected the tray. "Concentrate upon delivery," Consuelo instructed, "and I'll concentrate on pickup. Stand still." Inez did so, and Consuelo rearranged her blouse again, re-exposing her breasts. At Inez's disconcerted grunt, she announced, "I'll not have you holding up food service every time we appear in the entrance to the dining room! It's a short trip, and God knows I've been all over the house, nude, executing MY Master's wishes..." She turned peremptorily and led Inez out, Velma's chuckle echoing behind. ------- "Consuelo refers to you as 'Master'," Nora inquired, "Is she the other slave?" "No," Armand replied, "Consuelo has chosen to refer to me that way, and I have chosen to allow it -- but she is an employee." "Daddy, I get the impression that NONE of the employees are just that..." Armand laid down his spoon and steepled his fingers. "Perhaps. However, some of them may leave my employ voluntarily at any time, risking no more than, let us say, a bad reference." Nora interpreted this as follow-through on a threat of blackmail -- which was absolutely correct! Armand read that understanding in her eyes. "Others... may not, for one reason or another." The salad course arrived, Consuelo preceding Inez around the table, whisking the soup plates away and placing them on the tray as Inez delivered the salad. Inez's breasts were again exposed; the woman seemed to be dealing with it until she made to pass Jason on the way out. Jason stopped her, making her hold the tray while he fondled her right breast, deliberately, for several seconds. Inez, bright red, glanced behind her at Nora. Jason frowned and grasped her hips, turning her until her position no longer hid his activity, then resumed mauling the breast. Armand vouchsafed the activity a small smile; Nora merely watched, her face expressionless. In a moment, Jason let Inez go, and she hurried from the room. Armand waited until she was gone to observe, "Yes, Jason WAS deliberately humiliating her. Inez is being punished; both Jason and I believe that the mental component of discipline is the most important one. Your presence provides a fine opportunity to humiliate Inez, powerfully bringing home her condition to her." "Should I stop?" Jason asked, oriented more toward Nora than Armand. "It's not... required." "Inez is so artless," Armand mused. "She's a joy to watch; the play of expression..." "You enjoy this?" "Yes." Armand was forthright about it. "Making people obey me against their will is a particular pleasure of mine..." "It IS... interesting..." "Inez offers a level of visible response that exceeds that of most people; it's no surprise that Jason is taken with her," Armand observed. ------- Consuelo was a good deal less severe with Inez as they returned to the kitchen. "They're playing with you," she observed. "I thought that I might be held responsible for your reactions, but I see now that my Master and yours are using Miss Nora to taunt and debase you. You realize that, don't you?" Consuelo's eyes laughed. "Yes. What do I do?" "You serve, and you suffer. That's what you do. This is your lot in life." Consuelo couldn't help her grin. "Maybe you can contrive to enjoy it..." Velma was finishing grilling the blackened swordfish, and began arranging the presentation decorations on the plates. "Yo' gonna have to suck it up, Honey... They gonna play wit' yo' as long as it's fun. An' yo' want it to BE fun -- yo' don' wanna piss 'em off..." Inez sighed and began to assist Velma. "I guess. But they embarrass me so..." "And they enjoy watching you squirm, no end!" Consuelo observed, grinning. Velma moved to the grill, and Inez passed plates as she speared the swordfish steaks and placed them into the pre-arranged presentations. "Here ya go, Honey. Salad don't last long. Bes' git goin'!" Inez collected the tray and moved out, Consuelo moving to precede her. ------- "So, this is what you do?" Nora asked. "Well, for recreation, perhaps, when I'm not doing other things..." Consuelo and Inez arrived and began making their rounds, retrieving the salad plates and delivering the main course. Nora watched the pair serve her father, and a glint came to her eye. Consuelo collected her salad plate and Inez bent to place the swordfish -- and Nora very deliberately raised her left hand and palmed Inez's heavy right breast, squeezing gently. Inez froze and her eyes popped as they swept from her master to Armand and the girl. "M-Miss?" Nora smiled gently and released the breast. "Gotcha..." "Ooooohhhh!" Inez backpedaled and rushed around the table to curtsey before her master perfunctorily, then almost ran from the room. She'd barely hit the door when Armand's booming chuckle began echoing in the dining room. Nora smiled widely and murmured, "Like that?" Armand could only nod, unable to speak, and even Jason showed his teeth, which Nora found a bit scary. Nora picked up her wineglass, and daring her father with her eyes, took a sip. Armand regarded Jason with a raised eyebrow, and turned his attention to his swordfish, shaking his head. They ate in silence for a bit, then Nora resumed her questioning. "Doctor Beckman says you're hard on women..." "Ah, yes, the good doctor. I can't decide whether he injured me or did me a service." Armand chewed reflectively. "I attract a lot of carrion, scavengers. Your mother would probably call them 'gold diggers'. They are like remoras, that pick clean a shark's teeth, or jackals, clearing the leavings from a lion's kill. I attract women who want the cachet of being Mrs. Armand Wilson, and who will do whatever they deem necessary to accomplish that goal." He took another bite of swordfish. "Well, I am not tolerant of scavengers; either you are in my pride, and follow my lead to accomplish my goals, or you are prey." Armand sipped his wine. "I toy with scavengers, for my amusement. I allow them to approach and sniff the spoils, and then I exact a price for their participation. As they commit themselves, I demand more and more from them, until one morning they awaken to the fact that they have no self- respect, or I eat them -- figuratively, of course." "Is this physical?" Nora asked. "Some of it is," Armand agreed, "But much of it is mental and psychological warfare. I drive them to debase themselves to the point that they either sicken from the realization of just how low they have fallen, or they totally break and begin to thrive on abuse. In either case, I'm done with them at that point, because they either leave or they cease to resist effectively, making the kill a bore. Yes, I abuse them, physically and mentally, but I seldom hold them against their will, except in the midst of a scene; when the greedy little pigs come back for more, that's their OWN choice -- I merely crank things up a couple of notches and watch them overcome their unwillingness, their disgust, their horror, grasping for the phantom prize at the end of the road." "What do you do?" Armand shrugged. "First, I shock them. I outrage their sensibilities. I warn them that there are depths to be plumbed, and only the strong survive. I know you've seen the videos, so you are aware that your mother is regularly used as an object lesson to bring home the point that the waters run deep, and there is a riptide. Some of them get smart at that point, but not many. Then I make demands. First comes humiliation, then abuse, then various combinations. Eventually, they wake up and look at the pig in the mirror and realize that I've already dined on their self- respect." He sipped his wine. "Some snap; they come to enjoy the pain and the humiliation. Believe it or not, they're profitable; usually, they can be sold, happily, to the highest bidder at auction -- a pimp, or a collector." Nora shuddered. "And my mother?" Armand leaned forward, serious. "Your mother is a special case. Certainly, I prey upon her, on a regular basis -- but she is a helpmeet, too. She is not and never was a scavenger; although I bind her to me with bonds of financial welfare, there are other ties, and she participates actively in furthering several of my projects -- among them, YOU!" "Me?" "You. I watch you and your mother VERY closely; little happens in your lives that I'm not instantly apprised of. I have chosen to stay in the background in order to allow you some semblance of a normal childhood. Think about it; even the little peccadilloes that have occurred tonight at this table would be potentially damaging to your mental and psychological health at say, eight -- perhaps even ten or twelve. These things -- worse -- happen in this house all the time; it's just not a good environment for child raising. So I left you in your mother's care and provided you both a limited income -- almost enough and not too much -- so that you would absorb the tenets of current morality and learn the value of money. Would you be surprised to learn that I spend more money on the surveillance team that watches over you and your mother than I give her to feed and clothe you?" Nora was -- in fact, she was shocked! "Really?" "Oh, yes. How much do you think it might cost to have you covered so deeply that despite the spur of the moment nature of the act and the uncontrolled location, I have video footage of your defloration?" "You have WHAT?" "You heard me. Want a copy?" Nora gaped. This was... just... incredible! "Daddy, that's AWFUL! You're a voyeur!" Armand took another sip of wine, and smiled wryly, "I guess I am..." Nora thought back to the previous Saturday night. Gawd, she'd been a total slut, begging for it! And Daddy said he knew she'd seen the videos -- undoubtedly, he'd seen what she and Nate did while viewing them... It just got more and more embarrassing... Armand nodded. "You showed quite a bit of your mother's buried sensuality that night. Off and on, though, a bit of me pops up..." Nora covered her face. "How much..." "How much do I know? I haven't read your diary, but I've watched you write it. I know when you changed bra sizes, and I know when you stuffed the cups because you couldn't fill them yet." Nora's face froze in awful suspicion, but Armand shook his head. "My interest is purely parental in nature. Sex is something I leave to young Mr. Adams." Relief flooded Nora's features, then they darkened again. "About Nate, Daddy -- or about Nate's mother, actually..." "That the boy has risen above his mother's sad state says impressive things about him," Armand rumbled. "Oh, yes, I know what she is, and what she does -- and I know that young Nate has taken her negative example and learned from it." "I have trouble believing that his race is not an issue with you..." Nora began. "Is it an issue with YOU? We've spoken of this. I WILL NOT interfere unless he treats you poorly; if it results in little brown grandkids, so be it. If you date him because you are fond of him, that's fine; if you date him to spite me, you're wasting your time." He sat back and picked up his wine, chuckling, "Hell, I don't care if you're just using him for sex!" He took a sip. "You appear to be serious; so does Nate. If that is the case, I approve -- you could have done MUCH worse." He paused, then: "Are you aware of how I came into wealth?" "Uh, I think so," Nora replied. "Your uncle?" Armand nodded. "My uncle bequeathed his estate to me, despite the fact that he had two sons. Those sons -- my cousins -- were jackals; Uncle Nathan recognized that if he left his fortune to them, all that he had built would be lost before the birth of the next generation, most likely, let alone any possibility of there being anything left upon their attaining their majority. My cousins were lazy and spineless, and money poured through their hands, so my uncle left them each a small trust, and the majority of his fortune to me, in whom he saw some promise." He smiled grimly, "One of my first tasks was to defend the will against shyster lawyers in their employ, something at which I succeeded. One of the pair managed to weasel a lump-sum payout from the executor, and is currently destitute. The other learned from his brother's mistakes, but we are not friends -- but then, we never were; when we were growing up, they were too busy grasping for the next expensive bauble, provided for free by their doting parents, to bother with the poor relations..." Armand set down his glass and steepled his fingers. "Whether you choose to believe it or not, THAT is the primary reason that you were not raised in the lap of luxury; I wanted to raise a predator -- or at least a principled sheep -- not a jackal." To say that Nora was just swallowing this would be to overstate the case. "And now?" "Now, as far as I am concerned, you are an adult," Armand responded. "You are sexually mature, and near to attaining your majority. You have a sharp mind, and the will to use it. And when I look upon my daughter, I do NOT see a jackal. You may still be prey to such as I, but you have long teeth and sharp claws in your own right; I don't expect to see you pulled down anytime soon." Armand tapped his forefingers together. "Right here at this table, you have displayed considerable skill at adaptation. I'm proud of you." Turning to Jason, he directed, "Ring for dessert." "What's next?" Nora asked. Armand picked up his fork and began toying with a carrot flower left upon it. "This is a time of change. Soon, you may spread your wings and fly to other climes, making your own way, and leaving your parents behind -- but for now, I think that you and your mother should return home..." "Home?" Nora's nervous system took another shock as she realized just what her father was proposing. "Here?" "Yes." "Mother, too?" "Your mother has performed the task set for her; you are as prepared for life as she can make you. Now, it is time for her to return to my house." "Daddy, I doubt that idea has made her top ten list." "Nora, your mother doesn't return to me again and again JUST to pay the bills or JUST because I will allow nothing less; we have a relationship -- one that each of us derives benefit from. Your mother has been somewhat neglected for some time, because I dared not stoke her fears too much and spark a reflection in you -- but that time is over." "According to Mom, daily exposure to you almost drove her insane, Daddy!" "Well, there is some truth to that, but I was young, and intense, and I had only one toy to play with. I'm older and wiser, now, and have other outlets for my aggression." "She's free right now. She might not..." "She is NOT free, and she never has been! You know it, and she knows it! Divorce didn't free her -- nothing can! Do you know why? Because ultimately, she doesn't WANT to be!" Armand declared. Nora shut up. Daddy was right. Protestations otherwise aside, Nora's gut had been telling her that all along. Further argument was pointless, because she would merely be the Devil's Advocate; she didn't really believe in the position. Dessert arrived, sherbet and light cookies borne on a tray by a leggy redhead who was totally nude. "This is the Wench. She is the slave we discussed earlier," Armand said. The Wench, serene in her nudity, delivered sherbet to her master and the young woman she recognized from videos as Master's daughter, then knelt to Master's right, rather than withdrawing. Armand turned to her. "You met Sharon today, Wench; what did you think of her?" "Master? I discovered that my original mission here was a failure before it began; the woman Sharon is Mistress of this house, whether anyone cares to admit it or not." Armand's jaw dropped. This went FAR beyond anything HE expected! Shaken, he spent a moment gathering his wits, then turned to address his sherbet. "Um, perhaps you're right. I was just telling my daughter something similar..." Surprise was general. Jason rocked a bit, blinking. Nora sat open mouthed, as much at her father's reaction as the beautiful redhead's bald statement. Only the Wench was serene. For some time, there was only the clicking of spoons in the bowls, as father and daughter entertained their own thoughts. Finally, Armand looked up at Jason, "Have this cleared. The Wench will attend us; my daughter has questions for her, I believe." Jason nodded and Armand rose; Jason stepped to Nora's chair and withdrew it for her. Nora circled to her father's position, and Armand murmured, "Shall we continue the tour? You wanted to see the playroom, I believe..." The pair walked out, trailed at two paces by the Wench. Shortly, they were there. Nora was amazed; the place was DEFINITELY a dungeon -- it had just about all of the trimmings, including some obvious torture devices. There were chains and blocks and places to tie, strap or handcuff people, along with various whips and other implements that Nora had no name for, but a very clear idea what their use was. Alongside these exotic items, everyday items took on sinister overtones -- that turkey baster, for instance... Nora thought she recognized a douche bag, but -- so big? And that chair... The thing seemed to be a cross between a gynecologist's examining table and God knew what... Nora shuddered. As a distraction, she asked, "So, you're a slave?" "Yes, Miss," the Wench replied. "I am the lowest of the low in my Master's house." "And what do you do?" "Whatever my Master desires. His description of my primary duties is to act as a vessel of pleasure for his houseguests." Nora's eyes snapped around to the Wench's. "Really?" "Yes, Miss." The fact that Nora was the first houseguest that the Wench had encountered since her enslavement was as highly apparent to the Wench as it was NOT apparent to Nora. Nora glanced at her father, but he said nothing. "Do you have other duties?" "On occasion, I am privileged to supply my Master's needs when they come upon him and some more worthy target is unavailable. And my duties require me to be proficient in a number of sexual acts that a free woman might be disinclined to pursue. I train regularly under Sir, my overseer." Nora couldn't get over the expression of absolute serenity on the Wench's face as she made these answers. "Aren't you being used as a sex object?" "Miss, I AM a sex object -- it's my job. And I enjoy my job immensely." Nora gingerly parked herself on the arm of what she fervently hoped was a normal chair. The Wench took a quick glance at Armand and knelt before her. Armand wandered around, pretending not to be listening. "How did you come to be here, doing this?" Nora asked. "I came to my Master's house as many women do; I was looking for a rich husband to keep me in luxury. I was a model, but things had peaked; modeling is highly age-dependent. It was time to use my looks and the small amount of fame I possessed to find a man capable of keeping me in the style to which I'd become accustomed. In my mind, it was a transaction; I was to be decorative, and provide a minimal amount of sex, and he was to pay for my clothing, spas, travel, jewelry -- you get the picture. The stereotypical pampered wife thing." "I was used to men coming to me and paying for the pleasure of my company -- not sex, normally -- usually dinner and a nightclub, or some other event. Merely being seen in my company increased the desirability of some men to other women. My Master did not approach me in this manner, however; I was required to make the first move. This made him more desirable to me, fool that I was. I did what was necessary to obtain his attention, and we had dinner -- and that was it. This was surprising and disturbing to me; it was an indication that I was losing my touch. I pursued another date, shamelessly, and my Master indicated to me that my mere presence wasn't going to be enough to raise me above the pack in his eyes; I began to see that the shoe was on the other foot, and I was the petitioner. This was strange, different, unusual: I wasn't dispensing my charms, I was offering -- it was a totally different mindset. When it became apparent that nothing else would do, I offered sex -- and my Master took me harshly, brutally. He ravished me, but afterward, he indicated that if I cared to pursue things, I could see him again." "How do I explain this? Being used, instead of being the one doing the using, was incredibly exciting to me! During the act, I suffered pain, and afterwards I was sore, but it was the most exciting sex I'd ever had! Always before, I dispensed sex in order to control a man -- to get something expensive, usually. The only thing I stood to gain from sex with my Master was another chance to see him, and probably to be brutalized again. I had no control; I was fighting for crumbs!" "My Master continuously upped the ante; each time we met, he would want a new, different, more degrading act. He would abuse me; later, he would demand some outrageous act of obedience, or he would punish me. But I always did it -- not that it kept me from being abused for general principles... Early on, I met your mother; my Master used her as an object lesson in what I was getting into, identifying her as his ex-wife and using her ruthlessly in my presence to bring home to me that I was powerless and that he controlled everything -- that there was no escape unless he willed it. Instead of being repulsed, I reveled in the realization; somewhere about then, I became in my mind what you see before you in body -- his slave. My Master continued to push: oral sex, anal sex, fisting, enduring the effects of these devices, humiliations such as orally servicing business associates or giving cunnilingus to his secretary -- things no self- respecting woman could endure! But I HAVE no self-respect; I'm a vessel. I do whatever my Master wills." The Wench's eyes took on an evil glint. "Yesterday, I gave oral sex to your mother!" Nora sat there for a moment, frozen. Armand had whirled from his examination of various floggers for wear, but it was too late... Nora's pulse raced for a moment, but she got things under control, somehow. Following hard on the shock was the realization that she now knew what her mother had refused to discuss about her meeting with her father. "So THAT was it!" Armand shrugged. "That was part of it. You may as well tell her the rest." The Wench's expression was positively creamy. "My Master forced HER to give ME cunnilingus, too!" "Daddy?" Armand shrugged again. "I needed something new to get her past this thing she had over enjoying sex. Yesterday was the first time another person actually physically participated in one of our sessions. Always before, your mother was either a witness or the sole participant while another merely watched. She... did well, from what I could see. I needed something that she would be absolutely certain to be unwilling to do, but unable to resist, given sufficient pressure. The Wench was pliant and available..." "Daddy, you're awful!" "Probably." "She seemed fine, to me, after... I think we met my Master's goals." After a moment, she continued, "My Master offered me this position because he considers me a broken thing -- that he has shattered my will. Actually, my will is his will, and I am extremely happy with my lot." Nora gathered her scattered wits. "You're not a model any more..." The Wench shrugged. "But YOU see me -- ALL of me! That's MUCH more than most did while I was modeling..." She got up and turned slowly -- yes, she'd been a model, all right. She moved from one display posture to the next. "You can see parts of me that others have been privileged to merely glimpse -- as closely as you like!" Abruptly, she bent over, spraddle- legged, and reached between her legs to spread her labia open. "Uuuhh, okay. Let's not do that, for now." Nora had gotten distinctly uncomfortable in record time. "Certainly, Miss." Immediately, the Wench was poised, demure, standing hipshot before her with her hands clasped before her bare pudenda. "I notice that you shave," Nora observed in an attempt to recover control of things. "The hair is thin, there. Besides, many find the nudity more exciting." The Wench shrugged. "Daddy says his victims tend to come here of their own free will," Nora asked, "Did you?" "Oh, yes. Many times. I think my responses were unusual, but I've little doubt that others considered things that went on in here as paying the dues for benefits to come." The Wench paused. "By the time I started coming here, the things that occurred were to me merely tests of my devotion." Nora glanced at her father, who shrugged. You wouldn't catch HER in here, for ANY supposed benefit! Nora fingered a whip handle idly, then realized what she was doing and recoiled as if it had burned her. "Shall we move on?" "Certainly." In the hallway, Nora asked, "How soon do you expect this change of address to occur?" Armand looked vaguely amused. "As you've indicated, your mother may require substantial convincing. As a result, I've set no particular timetable." "I don't see her feeling safe, here," Nora ventured. "I'm not certain that I want her to -- except perhaps under certain conditions. I have yet to decide whether I will require that we remarry, or merely bring her in close while continuing my other entertainments. There are certain freedoms granted by the fact that we are both technically single." "Require, Daddy?" Nora inquired skeptically. "Require." Armand merely looked at his daughter, poker-faced. "That's how it happened the first time..." Any response Nora might have made at that point would have appeared stupid, so she decided not to pursue it. Armand continued, "It has occurred to me that your mother's experience, while varied, has been limited. I've been thinking of broadening her horizons..." "How?" "Well, there was the Wench... Other men..." "Daddy, that's diabolical!" Nora burst out. "You say the sweetest things," Armand grinned, "Where did you learn to phrase a compliment like that?" Nora found that she couldn't help but grinning back. "You're not serious, right?" "Well, she DOES need a basis for comparison. On Sunday, I threatened to find her her own black stud, or maybe two or three. Her reaction was significant, which is usually an indicator that we'll both be entertained by the result..." Nora remembered Sunday morning well; her mother had gripped the phone so hard she thought it was going to break. "Daddy, that was a negative reaction!" "Daughter, your mother's initial reaction to virtually ANYTHING is negative. It's a given in our relationship that I'll override her initial objections, and she'll come around, eventually -- if only for a brief period." "Brief period?" "Usually while her eyes roll up and she makes animalistic noises." "Daddy!" "See? You CAN be baited!" "So you're not serious, then?" "I didn't say that..." They were proceeding down a back hallway. They passed an open door where Nora got a brief impression of occupancy. In a moment, however, that brief impression was confirmed when a voice called out from behind, "Wench? Will you be needing me any more tonight?" The trio turned, and Nora beheld a young, but well proportioned Mexican teen female. "I don't know yet, Hon. Why?" "I was hoping to go to bed." Armand entered the conversation, "She should be all right. If she makes a mess, you can clean it in the morning." "Thank you, Sir." The girl was all respect. "Goodnight." Armand turned. Nora watched the girl hang in the door, trying to decide whether further response was required, before ducking back into her rooms. Nora looked a question at the Wench, who replied, "That's Bianca, Miss. She's Inez's daughter. Part of her mother's current punishment is having her clean up after me for a week, and be exposed to my various excesses." "Kind of a lower than low thing? And how bad has THAT been?" Nora shifted her eyes to her father. "It's been pretty quiet, except for Deep Throat practice day before yesterday..." the Wench replied matter-of-factly. Nora's eyes swung back. "Is that what it SOUNDS like?" "Well, probably. I failed to hold down Master's seed Monday night while..." "Wench, a little editing of the non-essentials, please..." Armand admonished. "Uh, anyway, I practiced on the back porch Tuesday afternoon with four of the Yard Boys. They got in about two rounds apiece. Bianca got to watch and help clean up..." "Wow!" "It was fun, mostly, but I got a little worn out at the end..." "So Bianca watched you give eight blowjobs?" 'The things that happen around here... ' "Yeah, I guess you could say that. Since swallowing semen was the big thing, towards the end when my mouth got tired, the guys would fuck me, then come around front to shoot down my throat. That was more fun, if you know what I mean..." "Ummm, yeah." Nora blushed. "How did Bianca handle it?" "Pretty well, until she got all excited and rubbed herself off on a chair arm. She left then, pretty embarrassed, poor thing," the Wench related, grinning. "Welllll..." It WAS a live sex show, for God's sake! "Daddy, was that smart?" "I've been back and forth about it. Frankly, though, I'm not aware of Bianca complaining." "She's treating it as a graduate course in Sex Ed," the Wench laughed. "I guess her Mama and Jason gave some pretty intense early classes, anyway." "Wench! Must you?" "Master?" "If I'd realized what an awful gossip she was..." Armand shook his head. "I sent Inez's husband away not JUST because he wasn't performing satisfactorily, but because he had come under the impression that Inez was cheating on him. The pair of them were basically at war, disturbing the peace around here. Inez is being punished because there was a basic truth to the accusations; she had been committing adultery with Jason for some time. Some might characterize it more charitably as fatalistic acquiescence to a series of brutal sexual assaults -- and to be fair, that more closely describes the facts that the mere assertion that she is an adulterous slut. But that did not suit my needs -- or hers, for that matter. Jason is being punished for his part of this, too, and I have little to do with it; you see, Inez is pregnant..." The Wench hissed a gasp, and Armand rounded on her. "If I hear that you have spread this tale before the principals, I will give you a gallon- size hot oil enema and make you retain it while I flog you until your screams can be heard down the block!" The Wench's eyes widened and she mouthed "Yes, Master," but it was so quiet no one could hear. "Daddy, this is like Peyton Place, or Dallas or something!" Nora laughed. "It USED to be fairly quiet, except for the occasional bout with one of my toys in the playroom!" Armand exclaimed. "Now..." "Well, if you're going to bring Mom in here, things had better settle down -- or maybe you should provide a lot of visible distractions until she gets a grip!" Nora cautioned. "Perhaps," her father returned. "You should know that I'm going to be quite insistent, and may employ somewhat less than subtle methods to persuade her to come live under my roof. Depending upon how resistant she is, you may find this place, with all of its imperfections, to be a safe haven by comparison to what will be occurring at your present abode, especially since I intend that the pair of you enjoy the relative peace of the north wing, at least until your mother settles in." "Oh, those nice rooms with the water view?" Nora asked. "The same." "What about Nate, Daddy?" "Daughter, if I think about it for a bit, I can enumerate all of the sex acts the pair of you have enjoyed. I'm not so stupid as to believe that you intend to stop! Young Mr. Adams is welcome, until and unless you deem otherwise. The pair of you may need to use good sense about homework and such, which is another reason for your mother to be available." He looked at his watch. "I request that you allow me to brace your mother with the news of her change of venue; in the meantime, I believe that it is time you went home." "Okay, I guess," Nora replied dubiously. "You'll have your work cut out for you, however you handle it!" The trio made their way to the front entrance; Jason having alerted Jorge, the car was waiting. "Good night, Daughter. I trust you enjoyed your visit?" "Yes, Daddy. It was... interesting." Jorge handed her into the back seat, and the limo slid away from the curb. ------- Sharon started pumping her the minute she hit the door. "Well?" "Well, what?" "What happened?" "Daddy and I talked, and I got the grand tour. We had dinner..." "Nora! Come on!" Nora grinned. "Daddy told me basically what he told you, I think; he stayed away from me to keep from messing me up as a kid. A couple of things went on while I was there that kind of lent credence to the story..." Sharon frowned. "Like what?" "He's breaking in a new maid... Do you know Jason?" "Evil looking blond guy? Face like stone?" "That's him. Apparently they had a real soap opera thing going on in the servant's quarters; Jason was doing somebody's wife, and the husband got suspicious. Daddy sent the husband away, and made the wife a maid -- but she's enslaved to Jason! Very weird. Anyway, they were punishing her by embarrassing her in front of me..." Nora grinned. Sharon's eyes narrowed. "How?" "Oh, making her show her titties while she served, Jason feeling her up -- that sort of thing..." Sharon sighed relief; they could have raped the woman over the table; if Nora grinned in the face of THAT, her father's influence would have been certainly showing... "What else?" Nora's eyes suddenly WERE predatory. "I met the Wench..." 'Oh, Lord!' Sharon went white. Nora showed her teeth, looking amazingly like Jason, "We just talked. But it was an interesting conversation..." Sharon couldn't keep her eyes up, but Nora chuckled, "It isn't the end of the world, Mom! If Daddy sticks your nose in some woman's..." "Nora!" "... Well, it doesn't make you a lesbian! Even if you liked it!" "Nora!" Nora just stood there, looking at her with a crooked smile on her face. One EVENING with her father... "I think he's ruined you already!" Nora shrugged. "I don't, but I can see his point. The maid has a daughter a couple of years younger than me... I guess she's seen a few things... Anyway, he seems to consider that you did a good job of conferring the basics, and now he's going to put me through finishing school." "I WON'T have him including you in his sick sex games!" Sharon erupted. Nora shrugged. "Sex doesn't seem to enter into it. Daddy made it clear that my sex life was my own. Although I guess it's pretty public!" "What?" "Daddy says he spends more money on people to watch us than he gives you for child support! From what he said, if I want to re-live Nate's and my first time, he has a video around somewhere -- DESPITE the fact that it happened at Tenisha's!" "Oh, Lord!" Various scenes in her recent past flickered through Sharon's mind. Nora was examining her own memories. "It wouldn't make a good first impression; I got incredibly hot and basically begged Nate..." "It's all blackmail material..." Sharon shuddered. Nora shook her head. "I don't think so. I think because he couldn't BE here, he did the next best thing... Anyway, maybe he'll back off with that, now that he's going to be around more." "That's ALL I need!" Nora thought about pursuing it, but just shrugged. Things were quiet for a minute, then Sharon asked, "Is there one?" "What?" "A dungeon." "Oh, yeah!" Nora nodded. "Daddy calls it 'the playroom', but it's a dungeon, all right! I think I'll plan to stay OUT of THERE!" "Did he tell you about his women?" "Yup. He calls them 'carrion' and 'scavengers'. Basically, to hear him tell it, he's having fun while punishing them for being greedy gold diggers." Nora shook her head. "He paints a pretty convincing picture. According to him, they can leave any time -- only their own greed holds them." "Hmmph. I see. And am I carrion?" Sharon rasped. "Nope. Daddy says he messes with you to keep you in line, but you're a part of his organization, not an outsider looking to suck his blood. Daddy says you're valuable to him, but that your current job is over, so it's time to change things up a bit. He mentioned broadening your horizons." "My current job?" "Raising me," Nora grinned. "Oh. I thought it was the charity thing," Sharon replied. "So HE thinks it's all over, huh? With his massive experience in parenting?" She grimaced a bit as a new thought occurred to her, "Broadening my horizons, huh? Like he did yesterday?" Nora tittered, and Sharon went white. "He didn't, uh, mention anything in particular..." Nora feigned innocence. Apparently, Daddy was right; Mom had a REAL funny look on her face, and Nora KNEW what she was thinking... ------- Chapter 14: Preparations - and the Astronomy Club Meeting Begins Having nothing better to do for the first time in several days, Nate wandered home -- and ran into his mother on arrival. Tabitha gave him a look and grunted, "Wonderpussy dump you, did she? Tol' ya!" "Nope. She's havin' dinner with her Daddy. Been on the schedule since Monday," Nate replied. "Well, la de da!" Tabitha retorted derisively. "You tell her 'bout me?" "Yeh." "Sure ya did!" "I did. Didn't matter." Nate's matter-of-fact attitude penetrated his mother's disbelief. "So, when am I gonna see Wonderpussy?" "When you wanta?" Tabitha thought about it. Tonight was Thursday, which was a pickup day for the weekend. Friday and Saturday nights WERE the weekend, and on Sunday, johns that failed to catch an amateur on Friday and Saturday were hunting out of desperation. Between business, partying, and a little sleep... "Monday. It can wait 'til Monday. IF you can cough her up!" "Okay." "After school. Won't last long, I'm sure." She eyed him, clearly still unconvinced. "If you lied, her Daddy'll fix your wagon wit' her tonight, Boy!" "I ain't stupid!" "Awright. I'm goin' ta work. There's a little money in the jar -- get some groceries." Tabitha hitched at her push-up bra, which managed to make her saggy, wasted tits presentable. Nate was surprised; if Mama was talking about groceries, the rent was paid! "You pay the rent?" "Yeh." "Want me to buy any REAL food?" Nate rasped. "Not unless you gonna cook it." One of Tabitha's failures was her inability to do anything resembling cooking. The Adams subsisted on pre- packaged convenience foods when at home. Nate just nodded. Tabitha stalked out, leaving him to examine the mess. Best start in the bathroom... Twenty minutes later, there was a heavy hammering at the door. Nate shucked his rubber gloves and threw it open to reveal George, the landlord, a huge shambling black with a cigar. "Since ya'll are rich an' famous, why don't you give me THIS month's rent!" "Don't gimme that shit; Mama paid you already!" Nate growled. He could afford it; he'd long since figured out how to take out the big stupid bastard if he had to. "That was last month's," George argued. "No... I paid you for last month -- last month! Go lookit your books an' git outta my face!" "Somethin' fucking wrong..." "Yeh. You're caught the fuck up! THAT's what's wrong! We actually PAID for this fleabag!" Nate hadn't practiced righteous wrath in days, and it felt kinda good; Nora was makin' him mild-mannered. But it was worth it... Nate ended the conversation by turning back to collect his gloves, swatting the door so it closed in George's face in the process. George went away grumbling, chewing his stink-weed. ------- "Honey, are you all right?" Beth Ann Nevins tapped on her daughter's door. Darla Jean's eyes popped and she clapped a hand over her mouth. Dammit! She'd been making noises again! And she was SOOOO close... She snatched her hand away from her burning clit and got it back above the covers, snapping the cap on the liquid K-Y she'd been using to stretch her natural lubricant for what was turning out to be a marathon masturbation session and tossing it in her open night table drawer. "I'm fine, Mother!" Beth Ann frowned. She KNEW she'd heard her daughter whimper. "Honey, are you sure?" The forms had been obeyed; she could open the door... Darla Jean was lying in bed, looking a little flushed. "Is there anything you want to tell me?" Darla Jean rolled her eyes. 'Like what? Get out of here, so I can finish getting off?' "No, Mother, everything's fine. I just..." Darla Jean looked around. She'd been GOING to say 'sneezed', but her mother might decide she was getting a cold and retract her permission for tomorrow night! "... banged my arm on the damned drawer!" "Don't curse, Dear." Beth Ann stood there a moment. They'd had these little confrontations before, and Darla Jean refused to open up and tell her what was bothering her. Well, maybe when she slept over with Mary Nally, the girls would talk... "All right..." She turned to leave. "If you're sure..." 'Go, Mother, go!' "I'm sure." Beth Ann let herself out, closing the door quietly. Why Darla Jean wouldn't tell her what was bothering her was beyond understanding... Darla Jean puffed out a sigh. If Mother ever figured out she was grunting and whimpering her way to orgasm rather than crying, she'd FREAK! Maybe if she chewed a pillow... Ironically, if the pair of them could have gotten past the revelations, Beth Ann would have sympathized. Andre, her husband, was a wonderful man, and a better than average lover, in Beth Ann's opinion, but he wasn't keeping up... Beth Ann was just hitting her peak, but Andre had peaked some time ago -- if it weren't for his staying power lasting longer than his ability to have multiple orgasms, Beth Ann might not have been able to control the urges that rushed upon her periodically. As it was, she'd slipped a couple of times... ------- Darla Jean decided not to attempt to continue; Mother was on the alert, and fear had largely replaced desire as her primary emotion. Besides, she'd gotten four cums already -- fairly quickly, too! The fantasies that anticipation of tomorrow night's activities had generated had her going like a house afire! How she was going to keep her cool tomorrow night was beyond her understanding, even though she KNEW she'd manage to lock up like a statue if anything were to really happen. Still, it was a blast to fantasize... She'd bury both hands in Randall's kinky hair and drag him to her itchy crotch and let him lick and suck and work her clit with his tongue... About that time, she realized that she was at it again, her right hand toying with her nether lips, rolling her clit between two wet fingers while her left tugged a nipple. The idea of a boy finally touching her was so seductive that she just couldn't resist... This time, a pillow corner muffled her moans as she stiffened and shook her way through another pulsing roller coaster of an orgasm, dampening her sheets with sweat and vaginal fluids. It took three MORE wild cums before, exhausted and sated, she drifted off to sleep. Mary Nally spent the evening planning and laying in supplies for Friday night. If they managed to keep things fairly quiet, Mom wouldn't have any reason to come busting in like she had last Sunday morning. The only reason she'd done it was because she'd expected to find Mary in a blue funk from the dance... This weekend, all things being equal, Mom would leave her alone, particularly on Saturday morning, when she habitually slept in. The boys would be up and out before Mom had any idea she was awake... Mary hit the cupboards in the kitchen for party goodies, under the guise of restocking her kitchenette. Beer -- well, she'd have to hope Stick didn't drink her whole supply of the good stuff... Stick was on his second night of relative boredom, while Teddy was recovering from the excesses of the previous evening. Both boys were looking forward to Friday night... If Stick had realized that both Nate and Draper were on the loose, he might have planned something, but communications between the boys were down; in the past, they'd laid their plans right after school, but taking girls home screwed THAT up! ------- Friday morning dawned kind of iffy; windy, with low clouds scudding quickly along. The forecast called for a thirty percent chance of showers, which might cause issues for the planned observation -- but no one involved expected much, anyway, with the possible exception of Darla Jean. When Teddy's mother brought it up, Teddy responded, "Worst case, we'll all hang out at Jimmy Hightower's pool house." Given that she knew that she tended to be over-protective of her only son, Teddy's mother left it at that; a night with the boys was a night with the boys, inside or out. Darla Jean had no such worries, officially; a trip to Mary's wasn't weather-dependent. If the observation was cancelled, though, she might be at loose ends. THAT would be par for the course... Randall was phlegmatic when braced with the issue. "Jimmy has this remote-control setup that runs down the hill to his pool house, and the scope can be computer controlled, if things get too cold or whatever. Worst case, we can go over the latest Saturn data from JPL -- we can get that from the net." That settled THAT, particularly when Jimmy nodded confirmation while playing with a rook. Jimmy and Randall were playing chess, and Randall was two pieces ahead. Amy was there, looking unGodly happy, it seemed to Darla Jean, rubbing Jimmy's back while gabbing away at FrankenThelma, who was ALSO looking surprisingly mellow with her narrow frame parked on the lap of Danny the Wop. What a Mutt and Jeff pair THEY made! But Danny was rubbing on her in that invasive way that broadcast 'We're having sex', and Thelma seemed to be soaking it up instead of hissing and scratching, so... Darla Jean couldn't fathom how FrankenThelma had managed to attract ANY man; she was skinny as a stick figure, had virtually NO tits, a droopy nose that made her look like the Wicked Witch of the West, and a nasty temper to top it all off. That SHE had a man, and Darla Jean didn't was as close to an indictment of reality for its injustice as anyone was likely to get... "We have setup to do before dark, so, about six?" Randall queried. "Okay." Nothing else apparently needed saying, so Darla Jean wandered off. The guys seemed to be including her, after a fashion, so maybe this wasn't just a joke at her expense... Jimmy waited until she'd disappeared and he'd moved the rook to comment, "Nice. Now, we'll have to set up the remotes, of course..." Jimmy and Amy were in on things, to be sure; Amy was all for seeing Darla Jean get some dick, as long as it wasn't Jimmy's. And if torrid necking with Jimmy would make Darla Jean brave, well, that was just another reason to do it, the first being the obvious benefit of enjoying Jimmy's attentions. Amy turned to Thelma, "Are you going up there?" Danny answered for the pair, "Naw, looking at tiny white lights gets boring, quick. We're gonna stay down the hill in the pool house with the walkie-talkies. If ya'll need help with the other thing, I'll turn it on so you can catch Thel's scream when she cums..." "Danny!" Thelma squealed in outrage, and tried to get in a swat, but it was like an ant attacking an elephant. Danny just grinned and collected her hands, then attacked her neck with his lips; very quickly, Thelma moved on to a contented purr. ------- The day went fast. Everybody at school was looking toward the weekend, even the teachers, so there was a full-court press to get things done and over with. At lunch, Nora brought Mary up to date on the weird happenings at her father's house and his grand plan to reunite the family. "Shit! For real? What's your Mom gonna say?" "She'll freak, undoubtedly. I would, if I was her. But Daddy gets his way, almost all the time, and he's pretty firm about this. I'm not too worried for me; Daddy and I appear to have an understanding that doesn't involve sex. But Mom's in for a helluva couple of weeks, I think, before she caves and does what Daddy tells her to do -- and she will..." "So you'll be moving?" "Up to the north end. It won't affect school, and Daddy says it won't affect Nate; for the record, I believe him. I think he's done making us pinch pennies, too -- there could be substantial bribes in the deal, if you know what I mean..." Nora winked and Mary laughed. "If your Daddy hears THAT, it might backfire!" "Or it might put an idea in his head..." There was another shared titter. ------- After school, Nate and Nora rushed to Nora's, burned their way through homework, and headed off to a movie; there was a loose plan to meet Tenisha and Draper Travis at the theater, if possible. Nate had relayed his mother's demand for an audience, and Nora had shrugged, and said, "Fine. You've survived this long -- she won't kill me." No sooner were they out the door than Armand called. After the preliminaries, Armand kicked things off with, "Have you thoroughly debriefed our daughter on her visit yet?" "Yes. I'm amazed -- it's as awful there as I'd imagined," Sharon replied. Armand chuckled. "My point about keeping her away until now is made, then. However, she handled it VERY well, and now that you're braced for it, I believe you can visit me here, too. Why don't you come to lunch tomorrow? Say, twelve? I'll have you retrieved by Jorge." "Why? We just..." "... Had sex? That's irrelevant. Well, not quite, perhaps, but it would seem to operate in your favor. We need to discuss our daughter's future." "All right," Sharon agreed reluctantly. She smelled a trap, but then, Armand's presence was ALWAYS a trap. What did she have to lose? All she had left was her sanity and her life; Armand had been chipping away at the former for decades, but seemed uninterested in the latter... "Jorge will be along at eleven-thirty." Click. "Always the last word..." Sharon muttered to herself. ------- The Knob was cool and breezy, damp leftovers from the midday rain shower adding a bite to the wind. Darla Jean arrived with her backpack, carrying a sleeping bag, to discover the boys tinkering with the telescope and various attached electronics, including a camera pass-thru. Randall looked up, "We're getting GPS data for the drive motors. Why don't you give your stuff to Amy to stow in the cave?" Darla Jean nodded and circled to the cave entrance. It looked like she was going to have to get on with forgiving Amy; maybe she'd done her a favor, anyway. "Hi, Amy. Where's Mary?" "She and Teddy couldn't make it," Amy replied, hiding a smile with some difficulty. "She said don't worry, you're still covered. She had to stay home for something." 'Two dicks!' went through Amy's mind. Jealousy didn't go through her mind -- neither black boys nor multiple sex partners were her gig, although the latter might be vaguely interesting... She just considered the whole thing to be racy and strange. Darla Jean wondered for a moment why Amy seemed preoccupied before Randall yelled, "You done? I could use a hand with the wireless controller!" Darla Jean nodded at Amy and turned back to the boys; obviously, that comment was meant for her, since Amy was merely decorative, here... "Coming!" Thirty minutes later, Randall was in full lecture mode: "The CCD and its digital zoom actually offers us a better resolution than through the eyepiece. Watch the screen!" He fiddled with the scope and the laptop screen lit with a surprisingly robust image of a nebula. "This is a little tiny thing in the eyepiece; we'd have to have three times the scope to get this kind of detail directly. Come here and take a look." It was early, yet. They were looking at objects to the northeast because the sun was still blanking the western sky, despite the fact it had set a bit ago. Jimmy was laying out items like a red-lens flashlight, watching the pair (inadequately) surreptitiously. Darla Jean got up and crossed to the scope. "Try not to touch it," Randall admonished, "we're inadequately stable. Someday, we'll put in a pedestal on a concrete mount..." Darla Jean bent over the eyepiece and Randall got on with the point of the exercise, "Let me hold your hair..." Darla Jean froze while Randall collected every strand with clumsy fingers. Was this... innocent? For a few moments, even after he was done, a double supernova in the eyepiece would have gone unnoticed. This wasn't much, but it had to be the closest a boy had ever come to intimacy. Finally, she managed to get in focus, mentally, "Uh, yeah, I see..." It WAS pretty tiny. "Of course, we STILL have to make raw adjustments at the scope. There is an automated tracking system built in, but it is... imprecise." Randall wasn't certain how he managed to say anything intelligent with a handful of that silky stuff to play with... "I see..." Should she move? Maybe... Darla Jean stepped back into Randall before the thought was complete. Randall let go of her hair to catch her. "Oops! Sorry!" "No problem..." Randall released her immediately, as protocol dictated, then started shaking like a leaf. Damn! Settle down, Man! Don't hyperventilate! He'd had his hands... Well, one around her waist, and the other on a shoulder, but still... Darla Jean was working through HER analysis of the action, moving slowly from her release point. Randall had been... perfunctory... with his answer to her insincere apology, but her ass had taken the imprint of an iron bar along the crack during the moment they'd been in contact. So, what was real? What HE said, or what his COCK said? Darla Jean turned a glance upon Randall to find him looking back with a strange expression, one he hid quickly by turning away in obvious embarrassment. Beyond him, Jimmy was looking on with a positively evil grin on his face. "I-I'm going to check on things in the cave," Darla Jean stuttered. "You guys need anything?" Randall wasn't really capable of rational thought, yet, so he merely shook his head, rather than adding to the load on his mental processes. Jimmy murmured, "A Coke, maybe? In the cooler..." Darla Jean nodded and ducked down the slope, stopping just over the peak and looking back. Jimmy, grinning wolfishly, was harrassing Randall. Darla Jean couldn't make out the whispered comments, but Randall was obviously disconcerted. Jimmy could be saying ANYTHING, but he was probably putting his spin on recent events... Darla Jean ducked through the tarp flap, wondering what that slant was. Amy had turned on an electric lantern and was reading by its light. Darla Jean went to the cooler and collected a Coke. Amy murmured, "Next time, let me know, and I'll turn on the red light so you don't lose your night vision." Darla Jean turned to Amy. "Amy, why are you here?" Amy shrugged. "Because Jimmy is." "Why am I here?" Amy paused -- a dead giveaway. But she recovered somewhat, "Because you're a member of the Club? You're too smart for it to be JUST because of Randall, although that might be reason enough..." Darla Jean's stomach fluttered. "What are you saying?" Amy just looked at her for a moment, then: "Thelma's my best friend. I've nursed her through I don't know HOW many unhappy nights." "This isn't about Jimmy, is it?" "Thelma said you were clear about that when you spoke to her. If it's true, that pretty much leaves Randall..." Amy eyed her sidelong. "Mary told me that they were both..." "Mary! I should have guessed!" Amy tittered. "Well, I'd be willing to bet Mary doesn't know this first hand, so HER source..." "Teddy!" "Exactly. Teddy WOULD know. Thelma didn't lie to you, so if Teddy didn't lie to Mary, then Randall's..." Amy measured out several inches between her palms. She eyed Darla Jean sardonically, "Is that good news?" Darla Jean blushed, but didn't respond. Amy examined her manicure. "You can handle this one of three ways: You can be a member of the Astronomy Club. You can hunt Randall. Or you can do both." "I-I..." "If you give him a sign," Amy continued, still pretending her manicure was important, "Randall will hunt YOU!" "I've got to get back!" Darla Jean blurted, and ducked back outside the flap. ------- Up above, Jimmy had ridden Randall hard. "So, Man, is she bony? How's the hair? She WANTS you, Man -- that clumsy thing was an invite!" Randall, who was laboring under a massive dose of fear and too many inputs, held up his hands to fend off his friend's attacks. "I-I dunno, Man. She didn't exactly hang around..." "Hey, she has to cover HER ass, too! You two are both so busy pretending you're not chasing each other, nobody can tell the difference! You gotta tip your hand, Man! Take the shot! If she runs, it's a waste of time, but if she doesn't..." "Well, maybe." Randall's stomach was a mess; was it empty, or full of some fluttering thing? "I dunno if I can just..." "Well, if you can't do something big, you can always do a bunch of small stuff... She'll catch on -- Darla Jean's no idiot." Jimmy looked up to see the subject of conversation round the corner. "Show time!" Darla Jean caught THAT, too, but she ignored it; it was reasonable to assume that the boys were just critiquing the performance of their newest member -- probably complete with sexist comments. After all, this had been a males-only organization until this evening... She handed Jimmy his Coke and stepped over to the laptop. "How do you control the zoom on the CCD?" "From the app," Randall stepped over and squatted on her right, reaching in and manipulating the touchpad to open menus on the screen. "The CCD is capable of about a 10x digital zoom, but things get grainy above about seven..." "Oh, okay," Darla Jean leaned in and took over the keyboard, trying different things, while Randall found himself gazing at the strip of bare skin on her lower back between her short blouse and her jeans. It was... nice. Darla Jean didn't have a belly to speak of, and wasn't carrying saddlebags on her hips, but she wasn't positively bony, either. Was this an opportunity? Well, maybe it was, and maybe it wasn't. Darla Jean wasn't going to appreciate his sweaty palm on her bare back, but maybe if he worked above, he could kill two birds with one stone; he could get them both used to him touching her AND he could dry the hand a bit... He leaned in, mock-casually placing his hand on her back above the strip of flesh while taking over the touchpad, "You can select areas to zoom without moving the scope, as long as they're decently inside the frame..." He demonstrated, zooming on a star in the upper left corner of the frame. "Uh huh." Darla managed a response, but her eyes were glassy, not that Randall could see them while he pretended nonchalance and concentration on the screen. Was this a move? What exactly did this signify? Jimmy, who had been looking on with some amusement, decided that Randall was going to run out of excuses in a second, so he came around. "Hey, Guys, can I see?" "Uh, sure!" Randall backed off. Darla Jean split to the left, and the pair squatted, looking at each other over Jimmy's back. Neither of them was allowing anything resembling an expression to cross their features. Jimmy murmured, "So, have we captured a shot?" "Uhhh, no," Randall admitted. "We're still live. I thought we'd let the ambient light level settle down a bit more." "Okay." Jimmy looked around. "About ten minutes, I think. I'll go check on Amy. You guys get the shot and give me a call when you're ready to set up for the next sighting." He rose and strode off, hiding his grin. "Okay," Randall said to his retreating back. Turning to Darla Jean, he asked, "So, you want to fool around while we wait? With the interface, I mean..." Jeezus! What the FUCK was he thinking? Darla Jean snickered. Gee, THAT was subtle... Randall couldn't let it go -- he'd likely fucked up the entire evening! "That, uh, didn't come out right..." "Well, if I was Jimmy, the meaning would have been different. Maybe I should be flattered that you think of me as one of the guys..." "Uhhhh, something like that..." Shit! He didn't want to back off THAT far! "I, uh, DO know the difference..." "Oh?" Darla Jean's eyes teased him for a moment before she shifted back in front of the laptop. Randall wanted to hit something -- HARD! If there was a way to fuck up that conversation, he'd managed to find it! What the Hell was he thinking? WAS he thinking? And what was SHE thinking? Darla Jean was scrolling the menu bar of the CCD capture program idly while she tried to figure out just what had happened. HAD Randall committed a Freudian slip? If he hadn't, why was he back and forth on the recovery? She'd given him an out, and he'd taken it -- then... He'd like, backpedaled AGAIN -- but she'd gotten stupid and shoved it down his throat -- THAT was sheer genius... She wanted to slap her forehead. Sure, that's it, draw him out and stick a pin in him! Really fucking smart... Better get him in here... "How are we going to capture a picture?" Randall composed himself. Once more into the breach... Maybe Jimmy was right; small stuff, often. Put the hand back... He waddled up and replaced his hand gently while leaning down next to her. "See the Capture menu? There are a bunch of options..." Waitaminnit! She wasn't THAT stupid! Not even close... "Oh, yeah, I saw that. But the options seemed confusing..." Next time, she was going to have to be a little smarter about that; a sidelong glance at Randall had caught HIM giving HER one; the 'stupid girl' ploy wouldn't work with the current audience... Well, it got her the hand again... That hand seemed like it was about a hundred forty degrees, where it touched her -- she felt the heat right through her shirt... The two pretended to ignore recent events while discussing frequency-range filtering, image inversion, and other options. Jimmy rattled the flap. "Amy?" Amy switched the lantern off and turned on a red bulls-eye lamp, oriented on the ceiling. This was all new -- she hoped she got it right. "Okay." Jimmy came through the flap and sank down beside her. "How's it going?" Jimmy sighed. "It's taken less than a week for me to forget how hard it all is..." He collected her hand. "They're scared to death, both of 'em." "It takes guts to run the risks..." Amy ventured. "Good thing you had 'em," Jimmy chuckled ruefully. "God knows, I'd have never managed..." He drew her in for a kiss. A week ago, the action would have been unthinkable; now, it was just joyous. If you could call THAT 'just'... "We were lucky, Honey. We had Dina to jumpstart us..." "Well, I think she's in on THIS, too, but at a great distance..." Jimmy shrugged. "Astronomy isn't the draw it used to be -- I wonder why?" Amy tittered. "I'm not here to replace your other interests, Honey. I'm here to take away the problems that got in their way..." It was sweet that he was preoccupied with her, but she didn't want him paralyzed. "Well, you do that," Jimmy replied. "Frankly, nothing we're doing tonight is urgent; we've done all of these images before. This is for Darla Jean's benefit." "Well, I'm sure she'll appreciate it," Amy murmured. "We'll just keep an eye on things and turn up the heat if they need it. That's something I'm MORE than happy to do..." The pair got on to serious necking. Jimmy seemed to have more arms than an octopus; how DID he get her bra unsnapped? But his hands cradling her fat titties were VERY welcome, anyway, so who cared? Things started getting seriously urgent; Amy was having trouble breathing in her excitement and her hand was burning from the heat of Jimmy's rigid erection... "Jimmy? Don't you think we ought to save this until we have witnesses?" Shit. "I guess..." Randall better be REAL grateful for this... "Maybe I better go back up." "Okay, Honey." Amy drew him down and kissed him, an effort full of promise. Whatever happened between Randall and Darla Jean, Jimmy was going to get HIS ashes hauled tonight! Jimmy ducked out and Amy took a moment to flip off her sweater and pull off her bra before replacing it. There! Jimmy would be pleased, and it might stimulate some action elsewhere... ------- Randall and Darla Jean were just finishing up a low frequency capture as Jimmy hove into sight, looking vaguely mussed. "Get lost?" Randall teased gently. He hadn't had a whole lot of opportunity to harass Jimmy yet, and it was pleasant, putting the shoe on the other foot. Darla Jean turned too, her wide mouth grinning, her eyes alight. Jimmy noticed that Randall had his hand on Darla Jean's back again, and she was carefully not dislodging it, limiting her turn to just her head so her trunk wouldn't shift. He wanted to laugh -- the idiots! Instead, he smiled ruefully, "A bit, I guess. Ready?" "Yeah." Randall reluctantly backed off. "Why don't you get the coordinates for the next object, and I'll show Darla Jean how to operate the scope?" "Okay." Jimmy picked up the list -- an old one the boys had long since gotten really good pictures from -- and waited while Randall described the controller and its features. When Randall glanced up, he started reeling off figures for the next nebula, component by component, waiting between while Randall talked Darla Jean through the practical exercise. Jimmy watched them working, thinking that maybe they SHOULDN'T have run her off with squirt guns that night when they were thirteen. But she'd have put a damper on other pursuits, and who knew even now if she was going to step up to the plate and be a girl... It was time for fine adjustments, and Randall again took charge of Darla Jean's hair as she bent over the eyepiece. This time, she didn't let it stop her from doing her job -- not that she ignored it. Working the controller to control an inverted image took some concentration, but finally, she announced, "Got it!" Jimmy eyed the screen; yeah, it was a good shot. "Yeah, looks fine!" Darla Jean rose from the eyepiece, but Randall wasn't giving up the hair just yet. She turned a look of innocent inquiry on him, and he woke up and stepped back, not really saying anything one way or another -- Randall was thinking that his mouth had gotten him into enough trouble. He just toughed it out as she passed him, eyeing him sidelong on her way to the laptop. Jimmy got up and backed off, so Darla Jean could see the results of her efforts. They were pretty good; the small nebula was centered and capable of the full 10x zoom, if they wanted it. She deliberately knelt off-side to the laptop, as she'd done before, and Randall moved in beside her, returning his hand to the usual place on her back. A damp breeze blew up from behind, and Darla Jean shivered. "Where's your jacket?" Randall asked, concerned. "I told you..." "It's in the cave," Darla Jean interrupted. "I'll get it in a bit." Randall looked exasperated and repositioned Jimmy with a look and a jerk of his head, then he scuttled behind Darla Jean to cut off the wind. The hand on her back never lost contact; instead, it slid around her left side while he opened his windbreaker with his right and closed up behind her, blocking the wind. When his chest was in contact with her back and he leaned over her right shoulder, he met her look of surprise with a grunt of, "You're too delicate to be doing such a lousy job of taking care of yourself. I'm not gonna have your mom on my ass because you caught a cold up here. Go ahead, set up the full-spectrum shot." He nudged her to get her going. Darla Jean frankly did NOT know what to make of this; it could have been Randall's idea of an approach, but it didn't feel like sex was involved -- or even serious intimacy! That DESPITE the fact that his left hand had snaked around her bare midriff! Whatever it was, though, Darla Jean wasn't going to fight it -- Randall had his arm around her and was snuggled up tight... And he was pushing her to work, to think about what she was doing... Randall couldn't believe himself! It was SO weird! He couldn't touch her for sex, but when the silly twit displayed the intention to catch a chill for no good reason, he was all over her! Well, not ALL over... his position carefully held his hard-on AWAY from her ass... He pushed her through the shots -- high frequency, low frequency, broad spectrum, long exposure Ten or twelve minutes later, he shuffled back and grunted, "Now go get your jacket. We'll wait on you." Darla Jean rose, gave Randall another startled look and took off -- but she stopped at a sharp sound as she rounded the corner. Sneaking back, she peered around at the boys to see what was up... "What the Hell are YOU doing?" Randall grunted truculently. "I'm applauding the Master! That was some stunt you pulled -- it took real guts!" Jimmy shook his head in admiration. "Yeah, I'm a real genius!" Randall groused, "That's the closest I'll be to her all night, and I just put an end to it! Besides, it was all about the silly thing shivering in that little teeny blouse... I just couldn't sit by and let her DO that!" "She was fine with it, Man..." "Well, I wasn't. Of course, now I'll have to put up with her coat, but..." "Dude, you're a trip!" Darla Jean backed quietly away from her vantage point. So it WASN'T a grope -- even though Randall WANTED to grope... She hurried down slope and rattled the tarp. "Amy!" "One second!" Amy's muffled voice returned. "Okay." Darla Jean entered the red-lit cavern. "I need my jacket." Amy nodded. She was wearing a sweater, and was out of the wind, but would have preferred the Coleman lantern to the electric one she was using due to the heat it added to the light. Later, no doubt, when they'd had their fill of looking through the scope... She envied Thelma, who was down the hill at the Pool House, cuddled up to Danny. No chill in the air THERE... "How's it going?" "Okay." Darla Jean shrugged into her jean jacket. "How much is this about Randall putting the moves on me?" Amy rolled with the punch, blinking. "Well, it wouldn't hurt if he managed to accomplish something. He IS a boy, after all, despite being a geek..." "That's not an issue..." "Well, that makes you special, then -- until last week, it would have been an issue with ME!" "Jeezus, Amy! Is this some kind of game?" "Well, yeah. A real old one. But you can make up your own rules, and Randall will abide by them. Look, Honey, you need to make up your mind -- do you want Randall, or don't you? This is just like anywhere else and any other time -- you can walk, or you can be one of the boys, or you can be more TO one of the boys. Take your pick. This isn't a trap -- it's an opportunity, like a zillion others. You can take advantage of it -- or not." Darla Jean shrugged, exasperated, and passed back through the tarp. Amy wasn't being much help; basically, she was accusing her of being thick- headed and suspicious. But she WAS suspicious. Problem was -- and Amy had put her finger on it -- did it REALLY matter? If the sole reason they were up here staring at stars in the chill was so Randall could work on her resistance, was that so bad? It was kind of a compliment, wasn't it? She headed back up the hill to take the next observation. ------- Chapter 15: The Party at Mary's and Some Lessons in Control The guys showed up at seven-thirty, Teddy having picked up Stick at school; going to Stick's neighborhood after dark wasn't a really bright idea for someone as unprepossessing as Teddy. Mary met then at the door in as little as she could get away with -- in this case, a black, baby-doll nightie with lace bra cups, the remainder of which was flowing and opaque -- as far as it went, which wasn't far below her pudenda. "Hello, Boys..." Both boys recognized and chuckled at the Mae West imitation. Even Teddy seemed at ease as he entered the door. "Everything set?" she asked. Teddy nodded. "Let's get comfy, then." Mary waved at the couch area, where there was a large spread on the coffee table -- no real meal, per se, but plenty of snack foods and cold cuts to get everyone through a looooong night. "Soda? Or beer?" "Beer," Stick replied positively. "Me, too," Teddy piped up. "One, anyway." Mary turned to the refrigerator, collecting a Diet Coke for herself and a Bud for Teddy. Stick relieved her of asking him about brands by leaning in and taking a look, using a hand on her ass as a brace point. Coming up with a Michelob, he grinned, "Guess I'd better take it easy." The beer supply WAS pretty thin, if both of them developed real thirsts. Well, there were other things... "So, what are we gonna do?" Teddy contrived not to be nervous- sounding from his seat on the far end of the couch. "Let's jus' relax and eat a bit an' talk, first," Stick suggested, settling onto the near side, as Mary took her chair. Tonight, she didn't jump out with any seriously gaping exposure; both of the boys knew what was up there, and they had other things to work out. "We got all night. Right?" His eyes gathered nods from them both. Mary liked the 'take charge' attitude Stick was exuding. Playing the spider in 'The Spider and the Fly' was annoying, after a while; if Stick was gonna run things tonight it'd be a welcome break. "Want some music then?" Then she realized that this might be a problem of differing tastes. "ZRQ?" This was the local Top Forties station, which would be varietal. "Yeh, but keep it down so we can hear one another. They're gonna do that heavy rap thing about nine, so we'll probably have to switch it, then." Stick liked rap, but it got on the nerves, after a while. The shit was on all the time at home, and after a while, it either drove you nuts or to drugs to kill the headache. Stick had a theory about rap and drug abuse... Teddy was somewhat surprised. He considered rap and hip-hop tedious, but could handle it in reasonable doses; he'd assumed that Stick was going to be into it. Stick's announcement indicated either that he wasn't, or he was being nice, one or the other. Mary just turned on the stereo without any further evaluation than a sigh of relief. One good thing about putting on music: Her mother was even less likely to bother her if she heard the stereo running, as she hated just about everything out there these days. She'd also probably assume she was alone... Mary spent a lot of time alone in her room; her parents' activities -- or lack of them -- just didn't hold her attention. They were used to it. Everybody just chilled for a few minutes, tearing up the snack tray while the boys swigged beer. Stick was a LOT better at it, finishing his Mick and going back for another while Teddy's Bud moved a lot more slowly -- but Stick slowed down, too, during round two. Discussion wandered; songs, sports, TV, the antics of their friends... "What do you think of Nate and Nora?" Mary inquired. "Well, from Nate's end, it's about fuckin' perfect," Stick replied. "Not sure what Nora's gettin'." "I'm beginning to guess," Mary tittered, looking pointedly at Stick's crotch. "Seriously, though, I think she sees Nate as a project. If she files the rough edges off him, he'll be well worth having." "Nate ain't gonna particularly want to hear that," Stick opined. "Well, maybe not, but he's not complaining about her tools..." Mary grinned and fluttered the skirt of her nightie, flashing her bare pussy. Both boys chuckled. "Besides, there's a joker in the deck; did you know Nora's Daddy is rich?" Stick shrugged. "Nate said sumpthin' but lookin' at Nora, I don' see it..." "No, you don't; that was deliberate, apparently. But Daddy has megabucks, not just an extra nickel or two, and he's as weird as feet on a fish. But he likes what Nate represents, if not Nate in person..." "You're losin' me..." Stick mumbled. "I hear that Nora's Daddy came up on the poor side of his family. He had rich cousins who probably treated him like shit, but he turned into a tough bastard. Uncle died, and left his fortune to Nora's Daddy over his own sons, 'cause money had made 'em worthless..." "An' this affects Nate -- how?" "Nora's Daddy knows ALL ABOUT Nate's Mama, and how he's handling it..." "You're dreamin'!" "Well, if I understand Nora's Daddy, he won't be just handing anything over, but Nate COULD have an open door to the good things in life in his future..." "I'll believe it when I see it," Stick grunted. "That's a pretty good attitude. I bet it's Nate's, too -- which can only help him." "Yeh, I see that..." Mary eyed him. "I figure you have the sense not to start him having unrealistic expectations..." "Yeh. He'll be better off if he takes things in bite-size chunks an' don't get greedy," Stick nodded, thinking. "Exactly," Mary returned. "A thousand things could change. Nate's in good shape as long as he and Nora are doing well, but how many couples do you see last until marriage? And how many of THEM last? If Daddy sees him as sponging off Nora, he'll be gone, and it might be ugly." "Yeah?" "Nora's Daddy is megabucks rich, and all that comes with it. Go to the grocery store and look around the meat counter. If it's got Nora's last name on it..." "Shit! Okay..." "Well, he's got everything a rich guy has, then add... eccentric. He's into kink and stuff... You can be sure that if he wants Nate gone, he's got people to do it for him." "Nora's pretty risky, then..." Stick hazarded. "Well, she is and she isn't. Like a lot of things, there's risk and there's benefit. They're doing fine, for now. Nate's already outlasted prediction, which says that he's showing some sense. It's his call." Mary grinned. "At least YOU don't have those worries!" "Huh! No. I figger that even with this crib, your folks ain't rich an' crazy..." "You'd be right," Mary chuckled. "Neither are Teddy's." Teddy nodded agreement, chewing his sandwich. "There's other shit, I guess..." "Well, yeah," Mary sighed. "My folks aren't thrilled about either of you, right now, but Teddy has the edge, for what are probably the usual reasons..." "Like he ain't black," Stick grunted. "That'd be big," Mary agreed, "although they won't admit it because it isn't politically correct. Mom thinks you're taking advantage of me, both of you. Once again, Stick, you've got more to gain. And since the whole thing's impossible to disprove, short of -- gee, I don't even know if marriage would make a case! -- I don't see a quick end to it. On the flip side, if I settle on one of you, the rumblings will die down, and they'll roll over, eventually -- even for YOU, Stick; they're not THAT hard-headed -- but as long as I'm dating you both, there are gonna be shit-storms..." Stick shrugged. "Only you can fix that..." He glanced at Teddy, who shrugged, too. "No... We all know it's not that simple. There are the other issues..." "Me an' Ted?" Stick glanced again at Teddy. "Not sure that's an issue 'less you dump BOTH of us..." Ted was a helluva cocksucker, and he had a pretty good ass, but he couldn't MARRY the little bastard... "It's the 'not sure' part that keeps us where we are, Stick. You're not sure. Teddy's not sure. I'M not sure..." Mary shook her head. "I can't commit to one of you and put the other on the street for fear I'll make the wrong choice and pass up something beautiful with the other. The fact that you're so damned different makes it harder, not easier." "Shit got serious," Stick grunted. Teddy piped up, "She's right. I thought I was... queer. Now, I'm not so sure any more. Girls are... pretty nice. But..." Stick nodded. Pussy lived up to its advance billing, but it wasn't that available. Under normal conditions, Teddy was. If Mary dropped 'em both, would he start 'seeing' Teddy? Stick just didn't fucking know... "There's something else out there," Mary added. "I've already noticed it developing. We have a pecking order..." "Huh?" "Whazzat?" Mary smiled crookedly. "Well, Teddy's a 'Mama's Boy'..." "Hey!" Teddy erupted. Mary plodded on, "Sorry, Baby, but you know it as well as I do. We can work around it, but it's just as easy for me to mother you. But I've learned that I like to be able to give up control..." She eyed Stick pointedly. Stick grunted. "Izzat so? Well, we can work around THAT, too..." "If we want to," Mary agreed. "But is there good reason to want to?" She flicked her eyes to Teddy. "So Stick is Top Dog? That's how I do the math..." This didn't sit well... "That's where things are headed, I think," Mary agreed, "Although I think we're a bit more equal. Think about it, Teddy -- if we continue the way we are, do you WANT to run things?" Outrage ran head-on into his gut reaction to the idea of leadership and responsibility -- and got run over. "Uh, no," he replied, favoring Stick with a nervous glance. Stick turned his eye on Mary, who murmured, "Don't look at me! I've already abdicated! I'm the lead from behind type!" The idea of running shit was just fucking strange to Stick. "Well, I dunno. Sounds pretty fucked up to me -- your folks will shit! This is down the road, anyway -- it ain't got shit to do with tonight..." "No, not directly," Mary agreed. "I think we're all pretty clear on what's up tonight. I'm going to be sitting out the first round or two, anyway." She hopped up. "You guys wanna see a gay flick? No girls? Might be educational..." Stick was all set to say 'no', but Mary was right, damn her! Teddy was looking to him and not opening his mouth, which gave Stick HIS vote. "Aww, I guess." Mary went to the entertainment center and dug through her unaccountably vast collection of porn. Even giving Randall three or four tapes hadn't REALLY bled out anything; she had descent stuff in all varieties. Gay WAS limited, for fairly obvious reasons, but she'd collected a bit a while back with this particular audience in mind -- or Teddy's half of it, anyway. She pushed past the 900 number advertising to the title sequence and went back to her chair. The boys settled back to see the flick. Stick noticed one thing, right off -- the mindset appeared to be no-nonsense. The focus was so clear as to be grainy, and there weren't a whole lot of romantic games. The thing opened in a gym, with one guy eyeing another's 'package' while spotting him for bench presses. The second guy finished his exercising, got naked in the locker room and went off to the sauna, where he settled in and started beating his meat. This went on long enough to see that he was enjoying it, but not long enough to get boring before the second guy entered the sauna and with not much in the way of a pause, took over the meat handling. Both of the boys were uncomfortable at this point, nursing sensitive hard-ons -- but neither had made a move! Mary was somewhat exasperated; this was the second time they'd been here with gay sex on their minds, then turned homophobic when it became time to do something about it! "Boys! Why ARE you acting so stupid? Teddy, slide over and work on Stick's fly, and I'll undo yours..." Mary circled around, pushed the coffee table back out of the way and knelt in front of Teddy, tuning his position next to Stick and working his zipper. Then she undid his Nikes and Stick's Adidas with one hand while jacking Teddy with the other. "I swear," she grumbled, "You two need a woman to get you started!" Teddy had done as he was told, without prompting; Stick's jeans were open and he was relaxed against the couch back while Teddy's hand massaged his meat. This was good shit, once you got past the embarrassment. Mary collected his hand and put it on Teddy's prick and he took over for her while she tugged Teddy out of his jeans, then came for his. As he raised himself, one-handed, the cock sucking started on screen, the guy who'd been jacking the other kneeling between his legs and going to town on his cock. Having gotten the boys beyond most of their physical and mental encumbrances, Mary again got out of the way, settling on a chair arm and watching the two sex shows, live and on video. Mary discovered she could appreciate gay sex for what it was -- a sex act -- without getting wrapped around the axle over the nature of the cast. Horny, she slid a hand under her nightie and began working her clit. Stick figured he had Teddy's cock going pretty good; it wasn't the longest thing, but that gave him an opportunity to kinda wrap his hand around the head at the top of the stroke. Teddy was doing some serious groaning, so he must be doing something right... If Teddy wasn't in Heaven, he was right next door! The way things were going, he was going to shoot in the air and hit the ceiling in a second... Stick's cock was long and hard and silky in his hand, and the action on the screen was getting hotter and hotter... Mary got up and came around back of the couch to take a look. "That's... kind of different, Stick. Teddy seems to like it, too..." "Yeh," Stick grinned. Teddy was clearly hovering on the edge, and Stick wasn't going to do anything about it at this point. Mary nodded at Teddy and murmured, "Mind if I..." "Uh, yeh, sure..." Mary circled around front and pushed back the coffee table so she could wedge herself in front of Teddy. Stick gave it one more stroke and pulled his hand out. Teddy had just a moment of unhappiness when Stick's hand departed before Mary's warm wet mouth descended over his glans. "Oh, Lordy! JEEEZZUUUUUSSSSS!!!!" Teddy stiffened and his eyes rolled up as his balls let go. His hands settled in Mary's locks, pinning her, and he pulsed out seed at a furious rate. When it was over, Mary licked her lips and chuckled, "Couldn't let it go to waste..." Teddy nodded, glassy-eyed, while Mary took over masturbating Stick, something Teddy was momentarily too weak to do. Stick chuckled. Maybe one day, when he was comfortable about all this, sucking cock wouldn't give him the heebie-jeebies, but for now, he had to nerve himself a bit. If Mary wanted to take the first load... Mary's hand felt different on his cock, too -- maybe it was the angle. Yeh. It WAS the angle -- and that thing she was doing with her thumb on the underside of the head... Stick returned his attention to the flick. "Hey, what's he doin?" Teddy rolled up from his collapsed position and Mary turned around to look. On screen, the suckee was sprawled boneless on the bench with his legs splayed, obviously enjoying the sucker's work, which at this point wasn't limited to his mouth. A close-up showed the finger he had working in the other guy's ass... "Prostate massage," Mary opined. "There's a gland in there that controls how hard your dick gets. You can get at it from inside your ass -- it's on the front side. Great way to add a little something to a blowjob; it's also why guys are one up on gals when it comes to getting anal sex." "Uh huh." Stick's eyes were getting glassy. Teddy noticed, and reminded everybody that this was a gay outing by leaning over and taking in Stick's glans, which Mary surrendered immediately, sitting back to watch. Stick hauled on Teddy's shoulders to make him join Mary on the floor; Mary moved over to accommodate, but didn't leave. At this point, Stick was the only one still watching the video; Teddy was hard at work (and doing wonderfully), and Mary was watching closely while quelling the urge to fondle Stick's balls. On screen, the suckee was obviously into his final stages, both hands guiding the sucker's head while he hunched up in urgency. Stick buried his hands in Teddy's curls, but he was doing fine -- no need to drive him. The shot of the suckee painting the face of the sucker ALMOST brought Stick along with him, but he managed somehow to maintain control. But then Teddy started playing with his balls... Mary stifled disappointment at Teddy's action, but this WAS a boys' outing... Stick's eyes got round, which made him look like Buckwheat, the kid on the old 'Little Rascals' serials she used to watch on cable (Mary chuckled to herself -- better keep THAT piece of stereotyping to herself... ), and began to grunt urgently, ropy muscles straining against each other while his cock surged in Teddy's mouth. Mary watched the pulse on the underside of Stick's cock with every shot... Teddy was taking it all. One thing had become certain when he'd wrapped his mouth around Stick's cock -- it belonged there. Teddy just enjoyed this, and it wasn't going away. Pussy was different; girls (well, Mary, at least... ) were wonderful, and pussy was just incredible to fuck and a lot of fun to suck -- but this brought its own joy, too, and Teddy couldn't see giving up either one for the other. There was this sense of accomplishment when Stick hunched up and spunk started poring out of him... With girls, you couldn't always tell -- oh, maybe you KNEW she got it, but the exact moment wasn't clear. With a guy, you knew EXACTLY when he came, because that was EXACTLY when he started to shoot... Stick released Teddy's head and settled back, gasping; Supermouth had done it again... Fucking was one thing, but if he was gonna get sucked... Stick suddenly realized that maybe he wasn't being fair, here, and the germ of an idea began to grow, but for now... "Come up here, you two!" Stick moved to more or less the center of the couch, with Teddy settling on his left and Mary on his right. He wrapped his arms around each -- okay, Teddy was a guy, but, hey... This was good with Teddy, and ALMOST as good with Mary, but she was feeling some urgency, so she put her right foot on the seat, splaying herself so she could get at her itchy clit. Stick's position was poor, but he knew what she was doing; Teddy could (and did) get a better look by draping himself across Stick's lap. Stick made shift to rub Teddy's back while Teddy learned about female masturbation from an expert. An avid audience merely added to Mary's arousal. She spread her puffy outer lips with one hand to display her stubby pink clit as it peeked out from under its hood under the attentions of her other hand. She altered attacks on the nub with forays along the pink channel between there and her vaginal opening to collect more moisture to work with and to attend to the sensitive areas there. Stick, dividing his attention between the video and the rather poor view he was afforded of Mary's efforts, noticed that Mary was pinking up nicely, a flush extending itself from her face into the contents of her nightie; undoubtedly, it ran right down to her tits... Since she was in close, leaning on him, he had the access if he worked it right... The angle wasn't any too good while he was trying to get into the nightie top, but once past the constriction caused by the fact that he didn't have two elbows, collecting a nipple wasn't hard. Mary moaned while he worked it, turning to suck on his neck. Mary was developing a serious wiggle, and everybody ELSE had had help getting off... Teddy extended a finger and took over operations at Mary's vaginal opening, leaving her to get the most out of teasing her clit. THAT took no time at all; Mary began to seriously hunch and jitter almost immediately, and in a very few seconds, moaned, "OoooOOOOOOHH, GAAAAAAWWWWDDD!!!! and virtually stood on the couch, pivoting on the foot grounded there and the one on the floor to drive herself against Teddy's finger while she pulsed and shuddered. In a moment, she collapsed back against Stick's shoulder and ruffled Teddy's brown curls, sighing. Teddy eyed her grinning, making a production of licking the finger before resuming HIS position leaning against Stick's left side. On screen, the video had moved on a bit. The original recipient was now reciprocating, giving the other guy head while he stood, spraddle- legged, and taking advantage of the slight squat to work a finger into HIS ass. In a moment, he added a finger, and the standing guy's erection, which had been somewhat lank, stiffened noticeably. "Howcum they're so limp? I ain't limp when I get head..." Mary leaned up and kissed him. "You don't do this a dozen times to get it right for the video, either, Hon." "Mebbe," Stick grunted, "but to ME, that's part of 'gettin' it right'..." Mary chuckled and leaned over to offer Teddy a kiss. Stick wasn't sure he was ready to go THERE, but Teddy was getting another stiffie, so he reached down to encourage it. Teddy liked this flick; there was no doubt of it, and, well, it wasn't hurting Stick to watch it, either, he admitted to himself. The blowjob had turned into a mouth-fuck; the standing guy had the other by the head and was shoving it deep, moving urgently. Obviously, THIS wouldn't last long... It didn't; the guy backed off so you could see three or four squirts go into the other's open mouth. But he continued to squat on the sucker's fingers, so obviously, he was being milked in more than one way. In a moment, the sucker stood, wrapping his arm around his partner's neck to bring his head down to work on his somewhat resurrected erection, but it was obvious that he had other things on his mind; he leaned over and re-inserted his fingers in the other's rectum, more or less using the grip to drive him onto his cock. 'One thing about gay flicks, ' Stick reflected to himself, 'They ain't no nonsense!' If you didn't count moans and groans, there was almost no dialog, and the action was non-stop. Teddy was getting seriously hard again... Teddy was more than hard; he'd divined what was next, and couldn't wait -- and Stick had developed this action on his cock head while he jerked him off that was positively maddening... The expected action started; Mary picked it up out of the corner of her eye while she leaned across to once more take oral possession of Teddy's cock. Teddy groaned under the dual assault as Mary's mouth closed over his glans and the standing male took advantage of his finger action to circle around and begin inserting his saliva-wetted erection into the bent guy's ass. The bent gay's (he HAD to be gay, right?) face turned red, but he spread his feet more and squatted a bit, leaning on the bench with one hand while starting to pull on his own cock with his other. The other guy took his time, slowly working his cock into the resisting sphincter, adding spit for lube at one point. When he was fully seated, he began working it slowly, in and out, using short strokes to start. The action shifted to the play of expression on the recipient's face, which started out clearly uncomfortable, but eased noticeably after a bit and was replaced with that look of intensity that Teddy recognized as someone chasing an orgasm; obviously, the ass action wasn't interfering with the pleasure generated by his hand work on his cock. Teddy moaned; between the video and Mary's lips, Teddy was racing toward another cum despite the recent ball-draining; he was getting SOOO much stimulation... Stick's focus was more on the other end; obviously, the standing fucker had loosened the other guy up, because he was starting to long-stroke that ass... Stick remembered his recent run-in with Teddy's ass, which had been pretty decent, all in all... He was rubbing Mary's broad back while she leaned across him to service Teddy, but he was getting a bit of stimulation from her side rubbing up and down against him as her mouth rose and fell on Teddy's pecker. He got wedged in a crease, sorta, just below her left tit... The fabric of her nightie was smooth and slick, and soon wet with pre-cum. Unconsciously, he urged her a bit tighter to himself while continuing the back rub. Mary grinned to herself as she worked Teddy's fat glans; it was a lot of fun to suck, being quite different than most. She'd detected the wet spot, too, along her left tit -- maybe her rolls of fat had some use after all... On the screen, the men were hard at it, the standing one pounding away in the bent one's ass while the bent one tugged on his erection, his face showing various grimaces related to the action on both his cock and his ass. The light changed; the camera panned to show the door opening and another male -- a black guy -- standing there with a towel wrapped around his waist. The black guy stood there a second, obviously surprised, then shrugged and entered the sauna and dropped the towel. Coming around in front of the engaged pair, he pumped an already rising erection a couple of times and fed it to the bent gay, who had nowhere to go, anyway. The trio shifted positions a bit, the now sandwiched gay turning and moving both hands to the black man's hips for support as the black cupped his hand behind his head to control penetration for the blowjob. That did it for Teddy; his legs began to jitter and his eyes rolled up as he whited out. Mary felt his cock head get impossibly larger and more firm and backed off to wrap her lips over the very tip while working the sensitive underside with her tongue in order to have space in her mouth to take the flood. Teddy had big, heavy balls, and he came a LOT -- long hosing squirts that Mary had learned that you prepare for, or else! -- and this time, was no exception, by any means! Teddy held her head in place and panted and groaned as he jetted several times into Mary's waiting mouth before collapsing back again for the second time that evening. Stick ruffled his curls, chuckling, as he settled against Stick's shoulder, exhausted. But Mary had stopped moving, and Stick had lost a source of stimulation. Stick endured this for a moment, but when Mary pulled up, he grunted, "You ain't done; git down there an' deal with this!" pushing her to the floor. An idea occurred to Stick, and he nudged, Teddy. "You, too, Ted -- I'm gonna get a comparison!" Teddy slid to the floor and knelt up next to Mary, but Stick commanded Mary, "You start -- I've had it from him already!" Mary shrugged and complied, leaning up and using her tongue on the underside of Stick's long erection. After teasing the sensitive underside for a moment, she slid her lips down over his glans, producing a groan of pleasure, followed by a hiss as she began to bob over it, absorbing about half of his length before retreating to the point where her lips just covered the tip. Stick took about a dozen of these strokes before grunting, "Okay, switch!" Mary backed off and Teddy moved in to replace her, wrapping his full lips over Stick's glans and sucking him in. The pair had different methods; Mary relied upon tongue action -- which came and went as far as sensation goes -- while Teddy was concerned with suction and making sure he had a tight lip ring around Stick's shaft. There was tongue work, too, but it operated behind that ring and tended to be in that really sensitive area just behind the head of Stick's cock... Mary watched avidly while Teddy worked; Stick's reactions told her that she wasn't doing as well as her male competitor -- and it WAS a competition, albeit friendly... Stick took several more than a dozen strokes from Teddy before gasping, "Okay, switch!" This time, when Mary moved in, he began tutoring: "More lip -- keep 'em tight! Tongue is nice, but you gotta concentrate on sensitive spots, like jus' at the base of the head... Aaahhh! Yeah, there..." Mary discovered that a flat tongue swipe there substituted for lip action. Stick let this go on for about a minute, wondering vaguely how in the Hell he was keeping his jizz in his balls, before ordering a rotation: "Okay, Ted's turn..." Teddy went to work and his ability to maintain control allowed Stick to make suggestions to him, too: "Easy, Man! You ain't killin' rats, here! Slower is better! You get goin' too fast and ya can't control me bashin' inta things -- like teeth!" Teddy backed off and soon jizz was starting to boil again in Stick's balls. "Awright," he grunted, "I'm not gonna look ta see, now; ya'll share..." Teddy backed off, allowing Stick to get some control while they got organized. Mary piped up, "Slide down a little, Honey, so we have more to work with." Stick obliged, parking his ass on the edge of the cushion and slouching back, legs spread wide so the pair could work. He turned his attention deliberately back to the video, so he didn't know which of them started licking his balls (Mary), and which one was gently jacking him while whirling a tongue around the head of his cock (Teddy). What he DID know was that another cum was on the way... Teddy nudged Mary, motioning at Stick's ass and sticking out his tongue, obviously promoting the idea of a rim job. Mary grinned, but dared Teddy to take the lead with a nod and an evil grin. Teddy shrugged and surrendered the business end of Stick's cock to Mary, who had to raise up as Teddy worked himself underneath to get at Stick's anus. Stick's eyes bulged with the first contact of Teddy's tongue on his back bud. He'd been intent on the video, which looked to be building to a triple climax, only noticing a quick, swap-out-type delay that gave him a momentary respite from sensation before Mary attacked his glans and Teddy attacked his asshole. The feel of it was amazing! Incredible! If they kept THIS up long, he was a goner! His attention narrowed to a tunnel with the video at the end while he absorbed the sensations on his cock, balls and ass... Mary kept up her end, working Stick's glans with her lips while wiping the flat of her tongue along the sensitive underside. That would have been enough, frankly, but Teddy was working his stiffened tongue into Stick's ass, the sensations overriding his natural instinct to clench and keep it out. The tongue made a fine invader, soft, strong, wet, supple; it was virtually impossible to lock out. And it was freakin' weirdly pleasant... Stick was bothered by this, somewhere in his hindbrain, but he was watching some guy get his ass pounded by dick -- a tongue didn't seem any too incredible... The two sets of sensations played off of one another making BOTH more pleasant... Mary nudged Teddy and he backed off, but she mimed sticking her finger up Stick's ass and wiggling it. Teddy offered to let her do it, but she shook her head fractionally (all she was capable of while continuing to work Stick's glans), pointing out her fake nails. Teddy scratched his head and looked dubious, then dove back in to work some more on Stick's sphincter, softening it up for the invasion. Stick detected the pause; the loss of sensation in his ass left him feeling a bit empty there, which bothered him again, somehow, but he was still watching the dick sandwich on TV, which had aroused him well past the point of homophobia. Then Teddy was back, driving deep, opening him up. Stick hoped vaguely that it didn't taste too bad, but he wasn't worried about it -- such things were on the shelf at this point. Teddy's tongue felt about a foot long at this point; he was really digging for gold... The on-screen action shifted to a shot over the shoulder of the guy plowing behind, and it was easy to imagine... Teddy backed off, wet his index finger and inserted it, palm up. Stick's ass, used to tongue recognized a different invader but was too late to resist successfully. Stick grunted as the ass plowing seemed to get 'way too real, but then... ... On screen, the guy in the middle started painting the floor of the sauna with spunk, while apparently trying to swallow the black guy whole. The look on the face of the guy in his ass said that things were happening there, too... ... And Teddy started rubbing his finger on some spot in Stick's insides through his guts! Suddenly, Stick felt this TREMENDOUS urgency, and his cock went diamond hard! "AAWWWWW!!! HOOOO LEEEEE SSSSSHHHHHIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTT!!!!!!" Stick surged up and his cock started literally firing spunk against the back of Mary's throat! Mary's eyes popped, and she waved urgently to Teddy to take over. Teddy lurched up and Mary took one on the collar bone as the pair switched places so Mary could fall to her left, coughing from the surprising impacts of the sticky goo on the back of her throat. That was the only shot that got missed; Teddy was prepared and Stick was winding down a bit when Teddy captured his glans in his lips -- but he still shot several more times before beginning to merely dribble under the impetus of Teddy's twitching finger. As soon as he had some kind of control, he reached down and pushed Teddy's hand away in reflexive denial, "Get that outta there!" As soon as the finger was out, though, he flopped back, boneless, and gasped, "Whose fuckin' idea was that?" "Mine," Mary simpered, eyes alight. "Don't tell us you didn't like it..." "Well..." The more he hung out with this pair, the more he looked like queer bait. What the fuck? "Oh, Stick, settle down. It's not the end of the world that you got off on having your prostate played with -- hookers do it all the time!" Mary chided. "Oh." Stick looked sheepish. "Well, it was REAL new to me, an' I was watchin' that..." On screen, the erstwhile center of the sandwich was collapsed on the bench, cum oozing from his ass, while the guy that did it, cock still dripping, was being penetrated in the ass by the black guy. Teddy looked at the scene over his shoulder. "Looks like I missed a lot; can we replay it, sometime?" "Sure, Hon," Marry patted him on the leg. "Any time you like. And you can use any hole you like while you watch..." As she said this, the recently ridden male rolled to his knees and ducked under his rider -- now being ridden himself -- and began nursing on his slowly shrinking cock. Stick, drifting in a post-orgasmic haze, began thinking about making another comparison... They both had asses, didn't they? But that'd be messy, almost by definition -- and if he went from one to the other and back he might give one or both something from the other... There had to be a way; rubbers wouldn't work, because they'd only protect him... No, his cock had to be cleaned, between... A tub of water and a rag? Nah, too much trouble -- an' it'd probably take five minutes... Waitaminnit! Baby wipes? Yeah! That oughta work! Of course, that put things off for another time... THAT didn't seem to matter, given the state of things. "C'mere, you two!" Mary and Teddy got up and settled beside him and for now, all was well with the world... ------- If Bianca expected to relax that Friday evening, she was disappointed. Mister Jason walked through the door at six o'clock, making it very clear that he owned the place. Bianca got the look in his eye at a single glance and erupted, "Mama! Your Master's here!" Inez boiled out of the bedroom like she was being chased by furies; Mister Jason stopped her with a glance. "Get naked and crawl over here." Inez started shucking while Mister Jason pulled his belt out of his pants. Mama was fast; Bianca shifted her eyes from Mister Jason as the belt came free -- and Mama was already crawling toward him on her hands and knees. Bianca sidled toward the door. "I... think I'll go check on the Wench." "You do that," Mister Jason returned blandly while collecting a handful of her mother's hair, "I think Charles has her in the playroom, training." Bianca got out of there -- but not before hearing the first belt strike and the muffled shriek that went with it. Jason pinned Inez's head between his knees and lashed her exposed ass with the belt until it was cherry red. Several strikes went along the crack and no doubt struck the bitch's cunt, given the way she leaped and screamed, but so what? It'd teach the idiot cunt not to get pregnant... Jason had spent all day nerving himself for this confrontation; violence was a normal part of his stock in trade, and he was generally lethal at the flick of a switch but Inez brought out his playful side and he found it difficult to subject her to more than recreational pain. That in itself was more than embarrassing; Armand had clearly detected this and was just as clearly amused by it. Still, he WOULD have control, and he WOULD have obedience, and it WOULD be perfect, by God! Therefore, an object lesson was required, despite Inez's current perfect deportment. Inez got it -- her ass stung like it was under attack by a thousand bees! At some point early on, screaming was no longer an option, so muffling them had ceased to be an issue. She'd lost her breath and been able only to moan and whimper. When Master let her up, there was no settling back on her ass -- it was just unthinkable! She backed up, still on all fours, and eyed him through the distortion of her tears. "M-Master? I did something wrong?" Jason stared back, hard-eyed. "I need have no reason to do that. Be thankful I DIDN'T have one!" Inez dropped her eyes. "Yes, Master." No reason! Dios mio! Jason walked over and plopped in the armchair. "Come here, and get me out of my things. You can soak my cock for a while... I think I'll sleep here tonight; you've changed the sheets since Armand rid you of that fool of a husband of yours?" "Yes, Master!" "Good -- I don't EVER want to feel that I'm getting sloppy seconds from him in ANY WAY -- do you understand?" "Yes, Master!" Gingerly, Inez knelt up and worked her Master's zipper, then pulled off his pants and his undershorts while he raised himself. "What happened to the braids?" Jason grunted. "I... took them out, Master." Inez fairly cowered. "Well... I guess a handful is as good for control purposes and it looks better down..." Jason suited actions to words, dragging her forward so that his erection rubbed her face. "Suck it in and give it a good soak..." Inez enveloped her Master's cock and began moving it in and out. Jason locked her down by his grip on her hair, grunting, "No! No blowjob! Just hold it in your mouth until I tell you different!" Inez did as she was told, and Jason took advantage of the fact that her breasts rested on his thighs by torturing her left nipple. "Maybe I'll watch TV..." He engaged her eyes, "You're a receptacle for my seed; apparently, on occasion, you will swell with it. I may not have my way in the matter of THIS one, but it will be TOTALLY up to me whether you have others! Do you understand, you little bitch?" Inez nodded fractionally, eyes locked on those of her Master. "I may put you on the Pill, and I may have your tubes tied -- and the Pope has NO SAY IN THIS! Do you understand?" Another nod. "Good! Because I warn you -- if you become pregnant AGAIN without my EXPRESS permission, I'll stick a violet wand up your twat and fry your insides with it until you CANNOT bear children! Do you understand?" Inez didn't know what a violet wand was -- and didn't want to! Whatever it was, it sounded very painful! The Pope would turn his face away from her, anyway... She gave a third fractional nod. Jason continued to squeeze and twist her left nipple, causing her serious pain. But there was a pleasurable undercurrent... This continued for a minute or two, while Inez slowly drifted toward the idea that if her Master used her now, it might be pleasant, before Jason grunted, "Get up, Bitch, and go get me a beer! Do you drink that slop you were storing for your husband?" "Si. Yes, Master." "Hmph. Well, it's ethnic. Get me a bottle count. You're not to use alcohol without my permission -- I won't have you producing idiot children with MY sperm!" He thought a moment. "Does Bianca drink it?" "No, Master." "Then remove it from the refrigerator and store it somewhere. I want no temptations. And I STILL want a bottle count! Not right now, though; go get me a beer from the kitchen -- you know what I want. Tell Velma that I have you and not to call until it is time to serve. Go! Run, or I'll strap your fat ass AGAIN!" Inez again found herself buck naked in the hallway -- but this time, she didn't let it stop her; her ass stung too much. ------- Bianca found the Wench and Mister Charles in the playroom; Mister Charles was fitting the Wench with a weird looking head harness. The Wench looked somewhat less than her usual serene self... "Hi! What's going on?" "Ah! There you are! Right on time, too!" Mister Charles said pleasantly. "The Wench developed a runaway mouth yesterday; Mr. Wilson mentioned it to me, so no doubt he expects me to take some action. So I'm rigging up something new and special for our slut, here..." He unbuckled the contraption and removed it from the Wench's head, then disassembled it into two pieces. "This," he announced, holding up the harness, "is commonly known as a ring gag. The metal ring is held between the teeth to keep the mouth open, something which can assure a blowjob from the most recalcitrant wearer. And this," he held up something that Bianca recognized, but had no name for, "is a rather large, 'anatomically correct', rubber dildo, about nine inches long, if you don't count the fake balls. There is such a thing as a 'penis gag', but as far as I've been able to tell, it's not adjustable. So we're going to make our own, and custom fit it to 'Big Mouth', here..." With some effort, he threaded the dildo back through the ring; obviously, it was a tight fit, particularly the fat head. Bianca glanced at the Wench, who was about as uneasy as she'd ever seen her; apparently this was more fiendish than it sounded. But the Wench wasn't moving -- she was knelt up with her hands on her thighs, waiting. "Here," Mister Charles grunted at the Wench, tossing the gag to the Wench, who caught it reflexively, "put this on. I'll buckle it when you've gotten it started." Turning to Bianca, he said, "You're just in time. We're going to experiment with different depths; you can use this felt tip and make marks on the dildo." "Yessir." Bianca took the proffered marker and opened it, turning toward the Wench, who was sitting there with the harness on already, a look of resignation on her face detectable even with the fat head of the fake cock in her mouth. Mister Charles stepped behind her to tighten the head harness, but wasn't pleased with the effect when he stepped back around front. "Damned ring is fine for holding the dildo, but I don't want it between her teeth. Hmmmm. Keep an eye on things." He walked off, leaving the pair sitting there. In a few minutes, he was back, with a pair of scissors and a two- liter plastic soda bottle. In seconds, he cut a chunk out of the sidewall of the bottle. After that, he removed the makeshift gag and, using the ring as a template, made a hole in the chunk of plastic, leaving four short tabs that extended through the ring and along the dildo when the dildo was reinserted (a process that was not completed without difficulty). Some custom trimming was required to keep from cutting the Wench's nose, too, but the end result kept the ring from entering her mouth while giving a clear view of her distorted lips wrapped around the rubber cock. "All right, then," he announced, "it's time to proceed with test fitting." With that, he proceeded to slowly push the dildo into the Wench's mouth. The process was exceedingly slow, and Bianca was subjected to a few gringo swear words, as the tabs of bottle plastic tended to oppose all forward movement even worse than the ring did. The Wench, for her part, suffered and drooled, her eyes getting bigger and bigger as Mister Charles forced the rubber cock deeper into her mouth. Finally, the Wench started gurgling and hyperventilating, breaking position and visibly pleading, so Mister Charles let up, saying, "Okay, Bianca, mark that; we'll see how she handles it. We'll know pretty quick if it's too far..." Bianca did as she was told, marking a small line along the outer edge of the ring between two tabs of the plastic bottle face-piece. The Wench was visibly sweating, and on impulse, Bianca felt her stomach. "It's hard as a rock!" Charles reached out and shook the Wench's shoulders, "Breathe through your nose!" The Wench tried, visibly, but she was caught in a cycle of more and more forceful surges of her stomach. In moments, vomit poured around the dildo to splash down the plastic and pour out below the gag. Charles rushed immediately around and undid the harness, snatching it off so the Wench wouldn't inhale the mess and the Wench spewed everywhere the moment it came free. "Bianca?" Charles took in the mess with his eyes, and Bianca took off to get cleaning materials -- it seemed like she was always cleaning up the Wench's spit or vomit. Well, at least it wasn't pee or crap -- THAT hadn't happened, although it had been pretty much advertised. When Bianca returned with a bucket and sponge, rags and towels, the Wench was crying. "I'm sorry, Sir!" she wailed. Charles was rubbing his chin, thoughtful. "I'd hoped to get it into your throat -- override your gag reflex..." "It's not like a cock, Sir!" the Wench sniffled, "I doesn't feel like one and it doesn't taste like one -- and it's too floppy... I can do a cock, but this..." "Floppy? Hmmmm..." Charles wandered out of the room with the thing in his hand, wiping the vomit off with one of Bianca's rags. "Are you okay?" Bianca asked. "Yeah, barely." The Wench shuddered. "If I'd been alone, the damned thing would have killed me. Somehow, I have to make Sir understand..." The pair talked desultorily while Bianca cleaned; the Wench was in trouble because she'd gotten diarrhea of the mouth during Mister Armand's daughter's first visit to the house the night before. "I started talking out of school; now I'll be lucky to BREATHE, apparently..." Charles was gone a full half-hour; when he returned, there was a length of copper tubing sticking out of the contraption. "It's stiffer, now," he announced, "and I was able to introduce a slight bend, making it more anatomically correct. I also opened up the slit in the end of the thing so we can introduce liquids through the tube..." "Thank you, Sir?" The Wench's tone said she wasn't sure she should be pleased. "I've backed it off a bit," Mister Charles added, "And glued up those damned tabs... The tubing gives a bit better control over insertion, too, since it's glued in." He stepped up and inserted it in the Wench's mouth, and went to work on the straps. "May need a quick-release..." The Wench surged, and he popped her on the ass, "Settle down; you took more. It's all in your head at this point." The Wench puffed, red-faced, for a moment, then got control. "See?" The Wench subsided and nodded, warily. "I think there is a position problem, too -- your throat isn't open enough. Over on your hands and raise your head..." The Wench dropped forward. "That should be better. Here we go, then..." He stepped forward, and grabbing the end of the tube and the back of the Wench's head, began pressing the artificial penis in deeper. The Wench uttered a muffled wail and grabbed his leg, holding it, but otherwise suffered the action. In a moment, it was clear that making noise wasn't possible; the Wench was puffing raggedly through her nose, and that was about it. Charles nodded satisfaction. "We're a bit beyond last time; are you okay?" The Wench was beet red and her lungs were puffing like a bellows, but she wasn't trying to vomit. "We're going to give it a few minutes," Charles announced, "and see if you manage to settle down." Then he proceeded to sit in a chair and observe the Wench as she strove to deal with the intrusion. For the Wench, the lesson had been brought home with a vengeance! The first horrible penetration had hung there, flopping, on the edge of her throat, and was in the perfect position to be intolerable. She couldn't have controlled her gag reflex to save her life - and any inattention on Sir's part would have caused her to lose it! This time, at least the thing didn't flop around; although it still tasted nasty, it FELT more like a real cock -- a solid core wrapped in something more forgiving. And the depth -- well, deeper was actually better, because it got past the trigger point -- but it DAMNED sure wasn't FUN! Slowly, she learned to breathe around it -- maybe even breathe THROUGH it... Charles caught this last, though, and produced a plastic cap that covered the end of the tube. This made things even less pleasant for the Wench, but she'd gotten used to it to the point that the additional discomfort could be dealt with. Misery, though, was her middle name. The trio settled back to see how long-term survivability was. ------- Jason was pretending to watch television, and drinking a beer -- one of his tall Killian's. Inez was back in position, on her knees before him with his cock in her mouth. Velma had vented one of her rumbling chuckles at Inez's nude arrival and stammering excuse that she would be occupied until serving time, rumbling, "Yo' bettah make him happy, quick, Honey, or yo' ass won' be good fo' nothin'!" The hand NOT holding the glass was buried in Inez's thick hair, toying with it; for Inez, the position wasn't comfortable (her knees hurt) but at least it wasn't sitting. Jason took another sip, and felt the beginnings of the unannounced point of the exercise. "I have to piss," he announced. "Swallow every drop, or you won't sit for a week!" Inez was galvanized. He wouldn't! He did. Almost immediately, a slow trickle began. Inez tried to escape, but he had her by the hair; tears poured as she struggled to swallow the vile stuff. It went on and on and on... Inez was a broken thing by the end of it. Her place was clear to her, but she knew her Master would find a way to make things worse... Finally, she finished and lay there across his lap, still nursing his cock, but sobbing openly around it. Armand found them like that. "Jason, come with me, please," he announced himself at the door. Jason lifted Inez from his lap and went for his trousers, directing, "Go and rinse your mouth with something -- I may want to use it for something else, later." This was bravado, after a fashion; Jason had NO IDEA what Armand was up to, and he was more than a little concerned... If Armand had decided that he'd exceeded himself with Inez in some way... Armand couldn't have cared less. He'd missed the Jason and Inez show, being more concerned with something else... "We're going to the playroom." "Ah." Jason was mildly perplexed, but Armand filled him in en route. "The Wench irritated me mildly last night with her loose tongue. I mentioned it to Charles, and he has justified my confidence in him," Armand announced. Jason nodded. This wasn't necessarily good news; Jason had expected Charles to be inadequately ruthless and controlling to make a good Overseer, allowing him to remove the recently created little slave empire as a thorn in his side. Apparently, things weren't going his way... The Wench was the first to discover her Master's arrival. She tried to kneel up, but it brought him out of her line of vision. Charles and Bianca discovered Armand's presence when he directed, "Stay as you are, Wench!" Both rose to their feet. Armand circled around to examine Charles's invention from the side, and removed the cap from the end of the tubing. "This is impressive, Charles," he mused. "An incredible amount of invention on short notice. Bring me the turkey baster full of water," he directed Bianca. While they were waiting, Armand educated Jason, "This is an adjustable variant of the penis gag. The dildo may be moved to various depths, to the point of lodging it in the throat, as it is with the Wench, here." He rubbed the Wench's back, something she might have enjoyed, normally, but at this point, anticipation of what was coming next had her rigid. "When the Wench complained that the rubber dildo was an issue because of its flexibility, Charles took the thing two steps further, employing a copper tube to both give the thing a slight bend and to create a means of introducing fluids into the victim's mouth, or directly down the throat to her stomach." Bianca returned with the baster, grimacing in apology as she handed it to Armand, who immediately put it to use. The Wench, helpless, felt the cool liquid pour down her open throat. "I'm sure applications for this will come to mind," Armand noted, replacing the cap. "I merely wanted to conduct a test, but you could certainly ratchet up the anticipation... You wouldn't have to use water, either. Castor oil comes to mind..." Turning to Charles, he admonished, "A long period with this in the throat is inadvisable, though, Charles. It could easily result in suffocation. Back it off any time she's not being actively watched." "Yes, Sir." Certainly Mr. Wilson had a lot more experience in these things... "Most impressive, Charles. Keep up the good work." Armand left, drawing Jason along with him. Moments later, he released Jason at Inez's door and swept on, grinning to himself at Jason's admittedly small show of irritation over the incident. ------- Chapter 16: Status Reports and the Climaxes of the Astronomy Club Meeting Nate and Nora met Draper and Tenisha at the movie. The flick was a futuristic action-adventure yarn that pointed up the differences between male and female perception of such things; the guys were into it, their enthusiasm barely dampened by the pretense that it wasn't important for the girls' benefit, while the girls endured the spectacular gratuitous violence to make the boys happy, both vowing to subject their significant other to a more romantic feature in the near future. At a slow point, the girls hopped up to go to the bathroom, leaving the guys to their scenes of catastrophe. As they watched the girls wend their way down the aisle, Nate whispered, "So, how's 'Nisha?" "Fuckin' wild, Man. She's in my face alla fuckin' time over sex!" "Not uppin' any?" Nate guessed. "Shit, no, Man! When she wants it, she fuckin' wants it -- right fuckin' NOW! Good thing I gotta car, or I'd hafta CRAWL home!" "No shit?" "No shit! I tried to be cool an' take it easy, but she keeps jes' crawlin' on and ridin' my ass! I'm fuckin' whipped! I guess her Mama's the same way..." Draper shook his head. "This the same 'Nisha that slapped me into the middle of next week?" Nate wondered aloud. "Yeh. She jes' don' wanta hear no shit, Man. It's kinda all the same thing..." "She gonna wear the pants in the family?" Nate eyed Draper, who was considerably bigger, sidelong. "Man, what scares me is what she becomes when she takes 'em OFF!" Draper shook his head. "I ain't got no complaints, though. An' I see where she gets it." "What's that mean?" "You 'member Prom night? Me an' Nisha went upstairs? You hear anythin'?" "Some kinda uproar," Nate remembered dimly SOMETHING went on at the head of the stairs -- but he'd been VERY busy... " 'Nisha's Poppa caught her an' me on the stairs, her buck naked dragging me along by my dick! I thought we was gonna have to go to it, an' me an' 'Nisha was in the toilet, but 'Nisha's Momma come outta her bedroom, buck naked, with cum runnin' down her leg, an' give her Poppa a tongue lashin' -- tol' him ta mind his own business an' go piss. Then she tol' me whatever happened in 'Nisha's room was cool wit' her, an' don' worry 'bout Poppa -- he'd cool down if he knew what was good for him..." "Jeezus!" "I was fuckin' freaked out, an' decided mebbe 'nother time was better, but 'Nisha wasn't havin' any. Took me a while, but I finally got my shit together an' I'll be goddamed if 'Nisha wasn't cherry! Didn't matter, though; once she got goin', she was off like a racehorse!" "Fuckin' A!" Draper grinned. "We done it once, since -- she had me take her home the other day, an' dragged me up to her room... Man, I'm bigger than she is, but... She's some kinda cum vampire, or sumpthin'! One minute we're suckin' face, an' the next, she's ridin' me like a bronco!" Draper shook his head. "An' when we come downstairs, her Momma gives me the eye an' a shit-eatin' grin. I know I'm gonna get my balls drained tonight, too!" "There's worse things..." Nate grinned. "THAT'S for sure!" Draper agreed. "What 'bout you? Howzit goin' wit' Nora?" "Kinda scary," Nate related. "Good scary, or bad scary?" "Little of both." Nate sighed. "Nora's great, but her family..." "Yeh. Bet they ain't thrilled." "Actually, it ain't about that." "No?" "Nope," Nate asserted. "Big worry was her Daddy would freak -- but he didn't. He was all cool with things. But he's weird, Man, an' Nora's Mama is, too!" "Like how?" Draper scratched his head. "Like he's a serious rich motherfucker, but he don't give Nora or her Mama shit. Like MY Mama is runnin' freaked 'cause she's heard he's got pull -- you know." "Mafia?" "I don' think so, but local hoods don' fuck with him. He can bring big smoke, someway or another. An' he's serious inta kink -- that's where Mama made him -- he does S and M shit to all his women." Nate flicked a glance around the room. "An' he STILL does S and M shit with Nora's Mama!" "No shit! How do you know?" Draper was amazed. " 'Cause he TAPES it, Man! I've seen videos!" "Shit!" "Look, Man, this shit goes NOWHERE, 'cause if he don't want you to know, somebody'll show up to bust your ass!" Nate hissed. "Like that, huh?" Draper glanced around. "I probly told you more than is healthy; far as I can tell, he has Nora watched EVERYWHERE! Sorry, Man -- I shoulda kept my mouth shut..." Nate looked around guiltily. "For all I know, somebody has a mic on us right now!" (Actually, somebody did.) "Okay, Man, so why put your ass in a sling?" " 'Cause Nora is too sweet for words, Man! You jus' don't know!" Nate mused a moment. "She tries to run things, usually, an' I let her get away with it a lot 'cause she's so damned good at it... I usually don't even know I been led around by the nose 'til I get there -- she's smooth! Gets it from her Daddy, I think. But once we're in a bed, she does this flip, an' I OWN her! And it's just fuckin' incredible!" "No shit? So, you're whipped, too!" "Yeh. Nora's the first girl ever offered me pussy -- but she GIVES me pussy, or whatever, an' it's like, no holds barred! Man I'd put up with a LOT of shit to keep THAT!" "Whatever?" Draper's eyes gleamed. "Man, I can't be braggin'..." "Come on..." "Okay. But if you fuck me up..." Nate gave his best friend in the world a hard look. Draper threw out his hands in denial. "Okay. Nora LOVES cum. She gives head like... I dunno what! But even when we fuck -- we're usin' rubbers until the Pill takes hold -- she takes 'em off an' sucks 'em dry! It's the HOTTEST fuckin' thing..." Draper clapped him on the back. "Shit, Man -- no WONDER you wanna keep her! How many times you fucked?" Nate stopped to count, and got lost. "I dunno. Last night was the first time since the Prom I wasn't in it a coupla times..." "Jeezus!" "Yeh," Nate grinned. "It's good shit. FINE shit. I'd go to the wall for that shit! Shhhh! Here they come!" ------- In the Ladies' Room, there'd been a similar discussion: "So, Nate bein' good?" "Oh, yeah. He's a sweetheart." Nora dimpled. "Damned if I believe it..." Tenisha opined. "Well, it's all in the handling. Dina put me on the right road with him. It's really pretty simple..." "Cain't be THAT simple, Honey!" "No, it is, really. Nate needs a lot of sex. Most girls just denied it -- maybe they wave it as the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, IF Nate's a good boy. I make sure Nate understands that he WILL get sex, if he's a good boy. Not maybe, sometime -- for certain, regularly. It's a little backwards, but it works. I was open with it up front, so he knows he's not just being strung along. The more he gets, the less uptight he is -- and the more tractable. I get my way, generally. Besides," Nora dimpled again, "it's not like I'm not enjoying it!" "You catching any shit 'cause you're white?" "Well, his mother wants to see me. I hear she's no catch..." "Well, THAT's true, Honey! Nate's Mama is a crack-head hooker. It's a wonder she's still alive!" Tenisha shook her head. The line had reached the point where they could get stalls, so the conversation lapsed until they hit the mirrors, after. "What about YOUR family?" Tenisha took things up, "They cain't be happy." "Actually, there was a lot less uproar than I expected," Nora replied. "Daddy told me that he wasn't going to get opinionated about my love life, because it might cause me to do something stupid to spite him. He's given every indication that he LIKES Nate!" She worked at her lipstick. "He gets along with Mom, too... How about you? Is Draper what you hoped he'd be?" Tenisha chuckled. "He's a big chicken, is what Draper is! Boy's scared to death of me! Every time I want a little lovin' I have to lure him up to my room and practically lock the door!" She smiled, remembering, "Daddy wasn't thrilled, Prom night, but he's chilled out -- and Mom likes Draper." "So, things are going well?" "Well, mostly. I'm not getting NEARLY enough sex, though. Draper created a monster with that dick of his -- I'm itchy all the time!" Nora tittered. "He's that hard to pin down?" "Once we get going, he's fine, sweet, strong... But right up to it, he's worried about who's gonna walk in and what if..." Tenisha shook her head. "Well, he's trying to be honorable. He's looking out for your welfare; give him a break!" "Yeah, I guess -- but sometimes I wish he'd just follow his dick..." "Hey, it's YOUR job to make all the blood rush to his little head, so the big one stops working," Nora admonished, tittering. The pair shut up and slid into their seats. ------- "Let's lay off a bit and get a bite to eat," Jimmy suggested. "The moon's screwing up the easterlies, anyway." They'd taken four more sequences, and the breeze was getting more and more chill. Randall nodded and Darla Jean didn't bother to argue -- it was getting cold, and her endurance was down. Randall had been right to send her off for her jacket, and although they'd worked closely on the intervening shots, he hadn't returned to block the breeze -- and she wished he had, for more than one reason. Jimmy suspended the laptop and started rolling cords, tucking it under the telescope's tripod, while Randall showed Darla Jean how to stow it properly. "Shouldn't we take it in?" she asked. "We'd have to set it up again, and the temperature change would fog the lenses. We'll probably just be popping up for single setups for the rest of the night -- it's getting too chilly to hang out. Unfortunately, good amateur astronomy is all about getting cold and miserable." Randall chuckled. "It's okay, if you get warm in between," Darla Jean observed. "That's what the cave is for," Randall agreed, then went silent, wondering if he'd missed something. Darla Jean, turning to walk behind him, caught the slight hesitation -- and it pleased her. Randall wasn't dense; he seemed to be taking every torpedo she laid in the water, even if he didn't know what to do with them. Jimmy, catching them both from his offside position, had to hold his breath to keep from snickering. The trio circled around and down to the cave, and Darla Jean rattled the tarp, muttering, "Amy?" but Jimmy directed, "Let's use white light -- we'll want to eat and stuff." He slid through the opening, catching Amy trying to shift the lights, "Oops!" "No, it's okay, Honey. We'll be inside a while. I'm going to light the stove and the Coleman to save batteries," Jimmy said. Amy lurched up and followed Jimmy to the side of the cave to watch and help, while Randall and Darla Jean retired to the other side. ------- The cave wasn't huge, by any means; it was a lot like a four-man tent -- anybody trying to stand up bought most of the headroom. The tarp kept MOST of the breeze out, but it wasn't a sealed opening, by any stretch. Darla Jean was amazed that despite the warm, spring days, the nights were still pretty chill; she hadn't REALLY come equipped for it, despite the jacket and the sleeping bag. Amy, warned by Jimmy, had worn a sweater and had a heavier jacket. Randall took the moment to shrug out of the windbreaker and shift to a heavier coat he had on standby here in the cave, then started laying out a tarp as a groundsheet along a low shelf to the side of the cave. Darla Jean moved to help, and Randall murmured, "It's tight in here with four; Danny and Thelma or Mary and Teddy would have made this a game of Twister." "Why the tarp?" Darla Jean asked. "You don't want your bag getting wet. Makes things REALLY cold. What have you got for a bag?" Darla Jean showed him. It was summer-weight -- and it wasn't summer, yet. "Any blankets?" Randall eyed her dubiously. "No." "You'd better use mine, then." Randall laid them both out, then collected a blanket from his roll and draped it over her bag. On the other side of the cave, Jimmy had the stove going and was heating water while lighting the Coleman lamp; in between, Amy was laying out their sleeping bags on the tarp already present on the cave floor, zipping them together. "Is she doing what I THINK she's doing?" Darla Jean whispered. "Yeah," Randall's single syllable agreement spoke volumes; there was a lot of envy and admiration in it. "It's a warmer solution -- shared bodily warmth..." Somewhere, that phrase had become a cliché; Randall couldn't risk a glance at Darla Jean after uttering it. The other advantages were obvious to both of them, and the realization arrived separately to each that if Jimmy and Amy took advantage of the situation at all, things would be miserable for them as individuals. The fact that getting Darla Jean to sleep with him was a primary purpose in being here didn't mean it was going to happen -- and if those two got together, it'd be worse than being alone, because he didn't see how he was going to relieve himself. Similarly, Darla Jean realized that if Jimmy and Amy went at it, she'd be unable to ignore it on several levels, and it would make for a seriously frustrated evening. Randall couldn't think of a follow-up that wasn't suggestive, so he let it drop; Darla Jean went mum, too, as she joined him stretched out on the bags. The stove was definitely improving the interior of the cave from a heating standpoint, and the lantern lent a warmer light than the battery- powered one that Amy had been using while she waited. Amy came up on Jimmy's left and pressed herself to his arm, making it immediately obvious to him that her breasts were unfettered. Jimmy turned to kiss her, whispering, "You little beast." "You're not going outside another twenty times, are you?" she whispered back. "No," Jimmy shook his head. "Once will be enough to convince Darla Jean that we've gotten our night's worth..." The pair grinned at one another, carefully hiding it from the others. Soon the water was bubbling and they broke out the hot chocolate and soup packages, Jimmy and Randall opting to suck down single-serving ramen noodles, while the girls settled for clearer soups. The four chatted about this and that, sometimes broken by sex, and sometimes by subject. Things went on for a while before Amy piped up with, "I have to pee..." The boys both began showing every tooth in their heads, grinning; the natural advantage of the male when camping had come out. Jimmy fished for a roll of toilet paper and announced, "Well, there aren't any facilities up here -- the nearest place is the pool house, clear down the hill..." Darla Jean had automatically checked the status of HER bladder on the announcement, and realized that she'd be in trouble, too, soon. The look on the boy's faces was pure triumph; all those bastards had to do was fish in their flies -- THEY didn't have to bare their asses to the wind and wonder what was sneaking up on them! Well, it wasn't going to work! "Let's go down the hill!" "Okay!" This was CLEARLY a male vs. female thing, and Amy was perfectly happy to deal with it that way. "Need an escort?" Jimmy asked, rubbing it in. "No!" Darla Jean returned shortly; she'd been up and down this hill. Amy nodded agreement. The girls bundled up, obviously irritated at being caught short by the setup. "Take a flashlight," Randall directed, nodding at one as the girls lined up to go out the tarp. "Don't let the bogeyman get you!" Jimmy teased. Amy delivered a flat glare. "Is it open?" "Danny and Thelma are supposed to be there. I'd be quiet..." Amy snorted, and Jimmy decided maybe he'd better mend fences. "There's an old chamber pot in the bathroom. I forgot to bring it up -- really." The girls' glances said that belief was seriously lacking. "Hey, this is the first time we had to set up for girls..." "Yeah, right," Amy muttered. The pair passed through the flap, and Darla Jean turned on the flashlight. "I've been up here; follow me..." Amy let her lead. "You have?" "Yeah. I tried to sneak up on them a couple of years ago -- more like four or five, I guess. I wanted to be in the club, but girls were just pests to them at that point..." The pair wended their way down the hill, following a faint path that Darla Jean could make out using the flashlight. In the tent, Jimmy eyed Randall. We'd better take a leak, too, while they're gone. I hope we didn't fuck things up too bad..." The boys eased out of the cave and wandered a few meters down the hill to a favorite spot off the path, and fished out their cocks. "How are you doing?" "Jeez, I dunno," Randall replied. "She's not screaming and yelling, but I haven't exactly started playing with her tits. I'm starting to think maybe, eventually, but not tonight." Jimmy grinned, painting the leaves with his stream, "Well it ain't over 'til it's over, some guy said. Hang in there. I figure we'll do one or two more, and you can practice keeping her warm, then we'll pack up and settle in. It's early, but when you don't have TV and stuff, people get sleepy." "Yeah." Randall wanted to admonish Jimmy not to go fucking Amy because of how miserable it was going to make him, but he couldn't. After all, it's what they were there for... He concentrated on digging a hole in the leaves with his stream. The pair zipped up and retired to the cave to pretend they'd been nowhere and done nothing. ------- Meanwhile, the girls arrived at the pool house, letting themselves in through the unlocked fence. Amy led them around to the door, where she admonished Darla Jean to be silent and listened. Hearing nothing, she quietly turned the knob, and the pair slipped in. There was a single lamp on, near the couch, where things weren't QUITE silent; there was a rhythmic rustling, and a series of low, contralto moans, "Ohhhh... Ohhhh... Ohhhh..." Amy wiggled her eyebrows and Darla Jean covered her mouth to keep from snickering. The pair crept left through the door to the bathroom. "Think they're fucking?" Darla Jean hissed as Amy settled on the toilet. "We'll know in a minute," Amy whispered back, "Thelma's ANYTHING but quiet!" On the couch, Danny had a finger in Thelma's channel and his thumb on her big clitoris, rotating, while she moaned and tried to suck his tongue out of his head, her hand fondling his cock. Thelma broke the lip lock and moaned one word: "Rubber!" Danny hadn't been an idiot about it; there were condoms on the end table. He surged up and collected one, then settled back atop his narrow girlfriend. "Gimmee!" she moaned, and snatched the package, tearing away at it in a frenzy. Thelma's response curve had been amazing to Danny -- once she got going, he didn't think a camera crew filming would stop her. Such was the case now; some girls might have used the respite offered by Danny going for the rubber to regain control of the situation, but Thelma was all for moving on to the next phase. Thelma got the package open and pushed Danny up into a vertical position, then somehow hunched herself into a position where she could start fitting the thing. Since it looked like she was going to break herself in half, Danny reached around to support her back, lifting himself a bit in the process. Thelma's voice shook as she repeated an earlier promise, "I promise you, Baby, that we're gonna do away with these things just as soon as the pills take..." Finished, she lay back, lifting her knees while maintaining her grip on Danny's erection. Danny grounded himself as best he could on the couch, assisted by his lover's narrow frame. He punched an arm through under each of Thelma's knees and grunted, "Get that blouse off, I want your nipples!" while rubbing his sheathed cock along her gaping nether lips. Thelma was a little surprised; this was the closest he'd ever been to demanding -- not that she was unwilling to oblige! The thin, round- necked blouse flipped over her head, leaving her naked beneath him, both of them having wriggled out of their pants and other underclothing a bit before when they became seriously inconvenient. "I wanna feel your chest, too!" she moaned, and Danny rolled his eyes and stopped, repositioning to tear off his shirt. But Thelma's hands came up to rub him possessively as he settled back, then moved to make insertion. "Oooooooohhhhh!!" Thelma's low moan as Danny's glans passed the gates of her vagina echoed just as Darla Jean settled onto the toilet, and she clenched up instinctively at the sound. Peeing was going to be difficult, if she got seriously aroused... Amy grinned and hissed, "NOW, they're fucking!" Darla Jean grinned back, managing to let go. With the bathroom door shut, things were relatively quiet after that, for a bit; Thelma's quiet gasps as she absorbed Danny's erection slowly the first few times weren't loud enough to penetrate. Darla Jean finished and reached instinctively for the flush handle, but Amy grabbed her hand, shaking her head 'No'. "It'll wait..." Amy hunted around and found the small pot Jimmy had mentioned, and they gathered at the bathroom door, slowly opening it. As it turned out, they probably could have banged doors, for at that moment, Danny took up his full rhythm. The pair watched, wide-eyed, as a broad back appeared over the couch top as counterpoint to a series of fleshy smacks, and Thelma turned on her litany, "Ohh! Ohh! Yess! There! There! Baby! Oh, God! Ohh! Yess! Huh! Baby! Yess! Huh! Huh! Yess! Danny! Danny! DANNEEEEEEE!!!!!" Thelma's feet appeared above the back of the couch as she locked both knees, going rigid and stiff while the EMP pulse went through her nervous system. Danny was unable to continue for a moment, because her position held him off. Then she collapsed, and he moved slowly in her while she re-gathered the frayed threads of her consciousness. Freed from their paralysis generated by witnessing Thelma's completion, however poorly, the girls hurried out of there, quietly closing the door on the "Umm... Umm... Umm..." of Thelma's warmup for her second pass. They hadn't cleared the fence before the muffled sound of Thelma's exclamations began to carry to them again, and were just a bit up the trail when Thelma's "WAAAAAAA!!!!" of completion signaled her second orgasm. Danny, ears ringing from her scream, was pouring semen into the rubber, having pinned Thelma's knees back tight and seriously pounded her to this second cum, knowing he wouldn't make it to three. Maybe if he kissed her, she wouldn't screech so loud... Thelma's stomach clenched as she grabbed his erection with her fleshy glove, milking it. 'Well', he thought, 'now we'll nap a while... ' Thelma's response curve took its toll on BOTH of them. Darla Jean turned startled eyes on Amy, "Jeezus!" Amy shook her head. "That's one happy girl -- now I'M horny!" She smiled to herself as she followed Darla Jean up the hill. Thelma had done them all a favor; Amy KNEW Darla Jean was hot, now, too, and it provided Amy with a prime excuse to initiate sex with Jimmy. Darla Jean paid slight attention to the ascent; her twat itched like MAD! Danny the Wop wasn't on Darla Jean's short list, by any means, but she was frankly envious of Thelma at that moment. Did she DARE make the moves that would get this gawdawful itch scratched? What would Randall think of her if she did? Would he broadcast it to the world that she was a slut? Shit, did she care? Darla Jean's absence of attention make the climb harder on Amy, but she knew the reasons for it and added to them where she could with bright patter about how happy Thelma was and how she'd suffered for so long without male attention. Viewed one way, it was a little mean, but she needed to goad Darla Jean over the brink, for her own good! The pair reached the top and Darla Jean stopped, undoubtedly to enjoin Amy not to mention events down the hill, but Amy pushed past into the cave and announced, "Well, Danny's got Thelma raising the roof again!" Both male heads came up. "What?" blurted Randall. "We got there just as she and Danny were going from heavy petting to long-stroking," Amy simpered. Randall looked from Amy to Darla Jean, ostensibly for confirmation, but in reality to see how she took it. She seemed kind of flushed... "They were having sex?" Jimmy played up. "Not when we got there," Amy amplified. "I think they were still just heavy petting. But by the time we were ready to leave -- well, YOU know how loud Thelma gets when she's getting pounded!" "Amy!" Darla Jean nearly strangled on her mortification. "My God!" "Oh, she loves it!" Amy passed the whole thing off. "If she was sitting here, she'd agree with me. Danny, who isn't much of a catch from where I sit, has her absolutely beside herself with happiness, and he was making a deposit in that bank while we were down there!" "Danny's a good shit!" Jimmy stuck up for his friend. "Maybe he's not a genius, but there's nobody I know who's as decent as he is!" "Yeah, I know," Amy agreed. "He's certainly proved himself with Thelma! If he'd done her wrong..." She shook her head, soberly. Thelma could be 'Hell on Wheels' -- and usually was, before Danny. If he'd used her and walked away, she'd have probably tried out lesbianism; as it was, she was one happy young woman, and Danny was okay in Amy's book. "I hope he remembered a rubber..." Jimmy chuckled. Then everybody kind of stopped, while 'Rubbers?' went through their minds... Randall passed a worried glance at Jimmy, who surreptitiously waved him off. Amy eyed Darla Jean, who was quietly freaking, trying to figure out why she was so wound up over rubbers? No one had offered to use one... Fact was, she had a packet of three that she'd been carrying for months -- a kind of 'hope chest' -- in her purse in the top pocket of her backpack... "Want some more cocoa?" Randall blurted, and moved up beside Jimmy. "Rubbers?" he whispered stupidly. "Amy doesn't need 'em," Jimmy hissed. "She's on the Pill!" "Auugghhh!" Randall grunted. "Relax, Man! Remember the stash?" Both boys' eyes flicked to a small shelf in the corner, where a number of items resided, including a box of a dozen rubbers. "Whew!" "Well, you'd best go get a couple, WITHOUT attracting a whole lot of attention to the stash!" Jimmy hissed. Having a girl go through the stash would be incriminating, given the girlie mags and other items that would lead one's mind directly to jerking-off contests... "Right." Randall got up, ostensibly to get more cocoa from another hole worn in the rock above the stash, but he spent too long there -- Amy picked up the activity and set herself a reminder to look around. Darla Jean was, unaccountably, intent on her backpack... In a few minutes, the cocoa was ready, and Jimmy passed it out, announcing, "Well, we might as well go out for another pass...", and the three active observers headed out, cups in hand. The temperature had dropped a few degrees, and there were new clouds scudding along in a freshened chill breeze. "Won't be much more to be had," Jimmy observed, "Let's look at the next good-sized nebula on the list and pack it in." The others nodded. Hanging out in the relative heat of the cave made exposure worse by comparison; Darla Jean's thin jacket was revealing itself to be woefully inadequate. They unwrapped everything and waited for the laptop to resume while Darla Jean did the raw adjustment. Randall caught a shiver while holding her hair. "Are you okay?" "It's... colder..." Randall moved to shield her, immediately. Problem was, when she bent over the scope, there was no way he could get in close without touching her ass... He tried, hard -- but Jimmy came along and bumped him, probably DELIBERATELY... Darla Jean stopped dead for a moment while she collected data from her ass on the nature of the vertical bar that had struck it while Randall squeezed out, "Sorry -- Jimmy bumped me!" through constricted lungs. After that, Randall didn't move, but it curiously didn't help; Darla Jean's ass kept getting in the way, no matter what he did, which only made him stiffer... Jimmy had to stay turned away for a good while to keep the laughter from erupting, and Darla Jean... Darla Jean was deliberately arching her back to rub her ass against Randall's erection -- while pretending not to, of course. A side view of the pair revealed it clearly, though, and Jimmy had to turn away again for a bit when he picked it up. Randall frowned. "You okay, Buddy?" "Yeah," Jimmy wheezed. "I think I'm getting a cough." Things were no better when they moved to the laptop; Darla Jean kept bending low over the keyboard, and her ass kept coming up... A position that worked perfectly before failed miserably. Randall's erection was blued steel and there was nothing he could do about it. He glanced over at Jimmy, who mimed humping her and grabbing her tits and sucking her neck, which nearly drove Randall insane! He wanted to wring Jimmy's neck, but to jump him would be to a) leave his position over Darla Jean, and b) invite questions as to why he was pummeling his best friend. Randall just sucked it up and hoped Darla Jean didn't notice. Darla Jean was deliberately mapping Randall's erection with her ass, expending more attention on IT than the collection of stellar images. She caught Jimmy up to something out of the corner of one eye, but he was watching her and stopped immediately. Darla Jean didn't care, really -- her twat was on FIRE, and her panties were SOAKED, and SOMEHOW Randall was going to use that fire hose on her TONIGHT! She'd been susceptible BEFORE Thelma and hot after -- and things weren't letting up! First, she had to get him to do something... "Okay, that's it," Randall announced, and reached down past Darla Jean to start shutdown of the laptop. Darla Jean deliberately bent low over it and raised her ass, pretending to get up -- and Randall found himself off-balance, falling and taking her with him! He made a grab for anything handy to tuck her in while he rolled onto his back, taking the impact -- and lay there, with her atop him, one hand around her waist, and the other with a handful of (oh, God!) soft tit flesh... "Uh, gee, Darla Jean, I'm REAL sorry!" "No, no it was MY fault," came the falsely contrite rejoinder. Jimmy stood there laughing out loud -- the pair were as transparent as they were clumsy; Randall hadn't let go, but then Darla Jean hadn't even telegraphed a move yet... The pair of them were both getting their jollies from Randall feeling Darla Jean up, and neither of them seemed to be aware that the other was fully cooperating... Finally, Darla Jean said faintly, "I guess I should get up..." Randall's hands released like they were spring-driven. "Oh! Yeah! Sorry!" Darla Jean rolled off him and dusted herself off. In the meantime, the laptop had shut down. Jimmy started cleaning THAT up, murmuring, "Why don't you two get the scope? And TRY not to fall on it..." Packing a laptop that had already shut down was a good deal easier than disassembling a telescope and storing it in it's foam-filled crate, so Jimmy was a good five minutes ahead of the other two. Chuckling, he ducked inside the cave. "They're a pair of idiots!" Amy looked up from the book she'd been pretending to read. She hadn't settled in yet from rifling 'the stash', which had provided her with a good deal of amusement. There were books, magazines, pictures -- even a couple of DVDs. The boys had even written notes on their favorite pics in the porn mags; Jimmy's clearly identified him as a breast man -- preferably big, natural breasts. 'Bodacious ta-tas' was a favorite quote in his handwriting. Yes, she'd chosen her man well... "Why?" "Darla Jean got Randall to cover her from the wind, then spent the whole time rubbing her ass on him! And the big doofus hasn't figured it out! Then she pulls this gag where she makes him fall over her and grab her, and they lay there..." Jimmy bent double. "Randall's got a handful of..." Jimmy couldn't get it out; he was trying to breathe... "You should have been there! They might as well have fucked there on the ground, then they both hop up and pretend nothing happened!" Amy grinned. "You're done then?" "Yeah." "Let's not give 'em any reason to cool down." Amy pulled the tarp covering their sleeping bags away and folded it while Jimmy stowed the laptop deeper in the cave, then stripped off her sweater as he turned. Jimmy stood there, admiring. Okay, Amy was a little thick here and there, and might get a lot worse, as time went on -- but those big tits... He loved them, and they loved him, too, apparently; certainly, Amy cooed a lot when he sucked and chewed those thick nipples... Amy carefully folded the sweater, leaving it in plain sight, then shucked out of her jeans and panties, folding them, too. "C'mon, Silly -- we want to be ready for bed when they get here..." Jimmy, galvanized, shucked, too, down to his shorts, but held onto them for a couple of reasons. Then the pair eased into the bags and snuggled in tight, Jimmy against Amy's back -- which allowed him to cup her right breast while propping himself with his left hand. In a couple of minutes, Randall and Darla Jean arrived, lugging the scope, Darla Jean in front. "Over there," Randall directed, pointing to the traditional storage location with his nose, and the pair made their way past the other couple's joined bags. "Jeez, you guys took your time up there," Jimmy observed, "I thought I was going to have to call out Search and Rescue!" "Yeah, right." Randall was still preoccupied with scope placement, but Darla Jean was inventorying the pile of clothing on the floor. Amy rose, deliberately displaying a breast. "The less you wear in a sleeping bag, the warmer you stay -- I learned that in Girl Scouts!" She lay back down, pretending unconcern as Randall became aware that something was amiss and turned to regard them. This time Jimmy raised up, coolly extracted himself from his boxers, and laid them on the pile. "I don't like being constricted." Darla Jean turned beet red; Amy's panties were RIGHT THERE, on the pile... Obviously, they were both naked; just as obviously, they were going to have sex right there in the sleeping bags! She turned wondering eyes on Randall, who averted his, while mumbling, "Amy's right, for what it's worth..." "Uh... huh..." Darla Jean turned slowly and made to occupy her bag. Randall just as gingerly moved to his, pulling his shoes and socks off. "Take your socks in with you," he recommended, concentrating on is own things. He shucked out of his coat and shirt, then slid into his bag. Darla Jean was shaking. Things were 'way out there, as far as SHE was concerned. She dumped slowly out of her coat, shoes, and socks, then Randall stopped her with, "Uh, you better put the blanket inside the bag. It's probably easier now than it will be later..." "Oh, okay." She opened her bag and spread the blanket inside, doubled up lengthwise, then zipped it up again. Grabbing her socks, she slid into the bag, wondering just what else she was going to divest herself of. She turned around. Randall was watching her, but he was moving. In a moment, his jeans came out of the bag. Darla Jean looked around; she was under the gun, with three sets of eyes on her. Well, the top made sense -- she shrugged out of it. The bra she was wearing wasn't any great shakes, but... she hung onto it, and moved to her jeans. Being basically painted on, they were a BITCH to get off while inside the bag, but she managed to struggle out of them. Amy grinned at her. "I took MINE off outside the bag!" "Well, I bet there were no boys present!" Darla Jean retorted. "Jimmy was..." Amy's grin got even wider. "Okay, no bear baiting," Jimmy interjected, and turned down the lantern, "G'night..." The light went down to a glow, just enough to see forms without details. The others murmured good night, and silence reigned for a bit. It didn't last long, though; soon, soft sighs began to drift across from Amy and Jimmy's direction, along with hints of movement in the guttering light of the lantern. Jimmy and Amy took their time, but soon the movement was an undulation and Amy was murmuring, "Oog... Oog... Umm... Oohh..." This was absolute murder on the other two occupants of the cave. Darla Jean lay on her stomach, crushing her crotch against the cave floor while she watched the bag wiggle sinuously and listened to Amy's sounds of pleasure; the whole thing was driving her nuts! Her panties had been soaked long since, anyway, and this merely added to things... Randall couldn't bear to look; the sounds were bad enough. This was what he'd hoped WOULDN'T happen... Oh, God, would it NEVER end? The activity went on for over twenty minutes, slowly crescendoing to a metronomic series of fleshy impacts counter pointing Amy's moans. Amy went "OOOOOO" at least five times, by Darla Jean's count, and each time added to Darla Jean's misery. Last, but not least, a few minutes after they FINALLY settled down, Darla Jean realized that she was cold, and getting colder... She dealt with it for a while, but things got more and more miserable. Finally, she rolled over to where Randall was and shook him, "Randall? I'm cold..." "Um?" Sleep had mercifully claimed him in his misery mere moments before, so he was slow surfacing. "Oh. I wondered about that bag -- it's summer weight. It's not going to be a lot of help to either of us. Tell you what -- bring the blanket and slide in with me, and I'll drape it over us. You can use the blanket to keep between us..." "But... Okay." Darla Jean was too cold for pride; let the others think what they wanted to in the morning. She skinned out of her bag, dragging the blanket, and began wedging herself in beside Randall. Randall waited until she was in and then worked her bag over atop them as an additional layer. As soon as he settled down from that, Darla Jean started trying to arrange the blanket, a process that just refused to go well. In the process she managed to bump up against Randall several times, bringing home the realization that there was a GIRL in his bag with him! Randall's first comment on the subject was, "Jeezus! Your feet are blocks of ice!" "Sorry!" "Better warm them against my leg... Uuuggh!" Randall suffered the touch for a moment before things started to settle down. "Is the rest of you that cold?" Investigation by hand revealed that most of her was, despite protests to the contrary. "Fuck the blanket, then. Better snuggle up. We can spoon." He clawed it away and moved up on her back, pulling her to him. Thank GOD he was warm! Darla Jean backed in tight, covering his arm wrapping her waist with her own. Nothing else mattered a whole lot. This went on for a few minutes, with Darla Jean gradually warming and Randall suffering less and less until Randall noticed something odd about the front of his boxers. Retrieving his arm from Darla Jean's somewhat unwilling grip, he slid it between them, feeling his fly area, then, gently, Darla Jean's ass. "You're wet..." "Yeah." Darla Jean suffered a good bit getting the next bit out: "I got... aroused." Randall chuckled quietly. "You'd have to have been dead not to..." He thought for a moment. "But look, really -- it's not smart to wear wet stuff... Now I'M wet..." "Oh, shit..." "We don't want the bag chilling... It isn't bad yet, but..." "Okay, okay!" Darla Jean started wiggling. "Kick 'em down to the foot, with the socks." Darla Jean did so, then Randall started working HIS way out of his boxers. "What are you doing?" she hissed. "I'm wet, too. We'll slide the blanket between us." Randall kicked out of his boxers, but made no move to reach for the blanket; suddenly, he'd realized that HE was naked and Darla Jean was ALMOST naked -- she WAS where it counted! His hard-on could have cut diamonds! Darla Jean snatched the blanket and fed some Randall's direction -- but he just draped it over himself, rather than tucking it between them. When Darla Jean backed up to resume the spoon, a long, hard, heating element buried itself between her ass cheeks. "Randall!" Randall remembered clearly Mary's injunction for dealing with feminine outrage. This was a good deal below 100 decibels, and she wasn't moving away... He wrapped his arm around her and muttered, "Oh, shut up! You're not going anywhere..." tightening himself against her back. He was right about one thing; Darla Jean wasn't going ANYWHERE. Her heart thundered in her chest -- OMIGAWD! That's his COCK! It's like, TWO INCHES from... Blood rushed everywhere; suddenly, she was warm... Hardly daring to breathe, she reached up and released the front clasp of her flimsy bra. Really, at this point, were the other two gonna believe they HADN'T fucked? Was guarding her virtue that necessary? Did she even WANT to? Of its own accord, her hand took his and brought it to her breast... Randall had gone about as far as he could for the moment; he was luxuriating in the feel of a woman against him. If nothing else happened tonight, this would fuel his wet dreams for months. Ninety nine percent of the way there, and he was fresh out of guts. But then this soft hand took his, and when it let go, his covered a soft, cushiony peak with a rubbery tip... Squeezing and teasing that toy was impossible to abstain from -- and it generated a soft moan... Randall lowered his lips to the juncture of a soft neck and an equally soft, creamy shoulder, and another moan sounded. Darla Jean rolled over, and he kissed that wide mouth for the first time, sucking the thick lips and dueling with a frisky tongue. Darla Jean was out of hiding, fully -- it was 'WAY too late to pretend, to play it safe! She wrapped her legs around Randall's, pulling his hot rod against her sizzling crotch. "Ummm, God, Randall! Just..." Whatever came next disappeared into the kiss they started. Once the inhibitions dropped away, Darla Jean was in Heaven! Given several inches of burning meat to work her clit against, she began to hump, which accelerated the pace for both of them. When they surfaced again, she moaned, "I want to be on top..." Randall was in no condition to argue. He rolled on his back, bringing the whole system with him as the sleeping bag moved, too, pinning Darla Jean against him. Darla Jean started thrashing, and the blanket went over their heads and onto the floor; she raised up and moaned, "I want it!" "Rubbers," Randall mumbled thickly. "Got one around here, somewhere..." "No!" Darla Jean was too far gone for such things. For one thing, she couldn't see how they were going to put one on in the bag; impatience had her not even trying to guess. The other was an insane urge NOT to have her first time with a rubber thing! In her heat, Darla Jean didn't recognize the roots of this urge, only that she had it... "Tell me it's gonna be okay, what ever happens..." Randall was beyond thought; puzzling out what she wanted was an effort he wasn't set up for. "Um, it's gonna be okay..." he parroted. That's all the further he got before the ring of Darla Jean's vaginal opening began rolling over his glans. It was burning hot, slick, wet, and clinging, and his control was going to be measured in seconds -- but it already felt like he'd been in Heaven forever... For Darla Jean, Randall's cock seemed to go on forever. As anticipated, nothing she had worked into herself had ever felt like this! Nothing had been this long, or had this texture -- and certainly nothing had been this burning hot! Darla Jean's hymen was long-since beaten into submission; it as NOT an issue. Frankly, nothing was, except adaptation of her depths to Randall's fervently hoped-for but unexpected length. Time slowed to a crawl for both of them; it seemed to take forever, and endless well of pleasure, before Randall's pubic bone struck her clit, lighting sparks everywhere. She began to rise on it, her inner walls and the crown of Randall's glans fighting the effort, and she overloaded! "OOOOOOO GAAAWWWWWDDDDD!!!!" Randall, well beyond endurance, nailed the thing, suddenly surging up from beneath, smashing their pubic bones together and then arching to hold her there while his cock began painting her cervix with his cum. Darla Jean clutched him in a death grip while they rode out the shock waves, grinding herself against his rigidity, "Nnngh! Hrrgh!" She dropped her head to his shoulder and her wide mouth started lighting up the nerves on his neck, sucking... How long this went on, neither of them knew -- they had no sense of time. When Randall collapsed and Darla Jean raised herself a bit, the lantern was burning brightly again, and Jimmy and Amy were eyeing her triumphantly from their bag. "Turn that fucking thing off," she mumbled distantly. Randall reached up and pulled her back down for a kiss. He was still hard; she was impaled on a live, pulsing thing -- and in a moment, she just HAD to move! Darla Jean's hips began to roll, and Randall went into Round Two without really realizing he was capable, surging from below in counterpoint. For both, there was a strange duality -- it was ecstasy, but it was also a clawing fight for MORE, MORE!! Urgency mounted, demanding more and more motion, but they were cocooned... "Damned bag!" Randall grunted and rolled them both over and made a blind slash with his hand that rolled the zipper open. Cool air flowed in, but the inside of the bag had become an oven, anyway, so it was welcome. Randall took full control of the act, lifting Darla Jean's legs and initiating a pounding attack that she was all too willing to endure, gasping and clutching and moaning, "Yeah! Ohhh, Baby! Like that! I'm gonna... AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!" Darla Jean surged and thrashed, eyes glassy, clutching Randall. Randall grinned ferally and continued to pound, while Darla Jean went from collapse to another effort to rejoin the frantic race. This time, as she peaked, screaming, Randall felt the surge of his second climax come upon him and buried himself deep in her to pulse it out. Collapse followed quickly for both of them; Randall dropped across Darla Jean, who clutched him to her as she drifted, unanchored in reality since her third cataclysmic orgasm. Both drifted off to the metrononic slap, slap, slap of flesh on flesh -- because Amy and Jimmy had NOT turned down the lantern and had front row seats to the success of their venture, which triggered another round of pounding sex for them, too! ------- Chapter 17: Taming Jason and the Blow-Job Academy Rodney "Rodday" Pinkham adjusted the fur collar of his coat and stepped around the corner and onto Tabitha Adams' little strip of sidewalk real estate. Tabitha eyed him with distaste; he looked prosperous, and he was, being the new uncrowned king of prostitution in the South Central district. Tabitha had seen them come and go, but usually they came on bright and tasteless; Rodday's dress bespoke a more refined, tasteful -- and therefore more controlled and dangerous -- individual. He'd been busy in recent weeks, absorbing the 'independent' hookers, and it didn't take a genius to realize that tonight would be his first attempt to absorb HER, too... The coat and hat were tasteful, the shoes brightly shined but conservative -- and no doubt the suit beneath the coat was Brooks Brothers. Tabitha hitched at her push-up bra and straightened the seam of her hose, the garters of which peeked out from beneath her short, split skirt, rigging for the coming confrontation. "Evenin' Tabitha," Rodday kicked off. "Rodday." Tabitha nodded in greeting. "The more I hear about you, the more I'm surprised that you're still working," Rodday observed. "Well, the pension plan doesn't kick in for a coupla weeks," Tabitha snapped. "You're pretty lucky, all around, but it's GOT to end, sometime. Why DON'T you have a pension plan? Or at least insurance?" Tabitha eyed him. "Rodday, I have yet to see an old, retired hooker. But I seen a lot of dead ones, an' hookers with pimps seem to take that kind of retirement quicker than any other group! If I have to pay for YOUR kind of insurance, I'll stop eatin' an' stop havin' stuff, an' pretty soon, I'll be retired in the ground wit' the rest!" "Drugs are cheaper, direct..." "They'd HAVE to be!" Tabitha ranted, "If I have to give YOU most of my income, cheaper ain't cheap enough! I gotta boy to raise!" "He's old enough to turn out," Rodday observed. "Mebbe. Look, fool! I outlasted a BUNCH o' you an' yours bein' independent, an' I like it that way! You got nicer stuff on your string, you don' need an old broken down whore like me! Lemme alone and go chase somebody worthwhile!" Rodday shrugged. "You be right, in some ways, but it's the principle of the thing. To the young stuff, you represent success. I can't have you representing 'independent' success. You understand?" "Yeah." Shit was going downhill. Next, some enforcer would show up to kick the shit out of her, and she'd end up owing Rodday her hospital bills. A synapse spat in her brain. "Hey, lookie here, you don' think I'm TOTALLY independent, do ya?" Rodday blinked. "Say what?" "I got cover. I don' talk 'bout it, 'cause it might cause shit to go down over competition, but I gotta umbrella. From a big guy, wit' nationwide pull!" She eyed him archly. "You don' wanna fuck wit' THAT -- he gets pissed off, he'll SPLASH your little pond!" "Huh!" Rodday was far from convinced. "What's his name?" Tabitha looked at the pimp like he had two heads, both of them stupid. "I tell YOU an' one o' his people pay me a visit askin' why I rocked the boat! 'Cause YOU'D be dumb enough to stick your oar in, then, wouldn't ya?" Rodday shook his head and turned, fingering the brim of his hat. "Well, Tabitha, I won't say it ain't been entertainin'. You oughta start a new career as a storyteller, after THAT line of shit!" Shaking his head, he stalked off. Tabitha watched him leave with an expression of triumph. He'd be back, and she'd probably have to knuckle under for a time -- but not tonight! She was premature, though; Rodday met one of his lieutenants two blocks down. "She says she's covered by big heat. Ask around a bit. If she's lying, send in Dumbjohn." The lieutenant nodded, and Rodday got into his Lincoln. ------- Inez lay in her marital bed, exhausted. Her Master had returned with Lord Armand angry about something; he'd dragged her into the bedroom and ridden her brutally from behind, periodically adding to her misery by spanking her striped ass cheeks. He'd finished mere moments before Velma's call to serve dinner, and she'd had to surge up and rush out. He didn't appear at dinner -- Lord Armand dined alone, which was unusual -- but he appeared in the kitchen at one point, requiring her to bare her breasts and remain that way while she served Lord Armand's dessert. When she'd returned to her quarters after dinner, he was there again, watching television -- but he shut the thing off immediately upon her arrival, and dragged her off to bed. This time wasn't the same, though; oh, there was the usual pounding attack, but she liked that. Master had pushed her knees to her chest and hammered away, bringing her to orgasm three times before collapsing, obviously exhausted, across her. At this point, she THOUGHT he was sleeping, while she rubbed his flanks, her legs crossed below his ass, holding his shrinking cock in place. If she was going to Hell for her trespasses, this would be a fond memory to take with her. Raoul... Raoul had never been comparable, even the first time. But THIS had been almost... domestic. What if Master followed through on his threat to have her share his bed regularly? How bad could that be? Jason lay atop her castigating himself. Soon, SHE would own HIM! Why did the damned woman have to be so comfortable? He was slipping, losing his edge... They'd just fucked -- JUST fucked, nothing added, no pain or humiliation. The woman absorbed his every output, one way or another; there didn't seem to be any way of putting a dent in her basic placidity. In her way, she was as bad as that bitch Felicia... He'd beaten her, pissed in her, raped her, humiliated her, beaten her ass a SECOND time... Then he'd basically run out of inspiration and merely taken his pleasure with her -- and she was laying under him, purring and rubbing his back! It was like operating in a rubber room with a plastic spoon -- no way to make a dent! And in the meantime, the chubby cunt was growing her ticket to continued longevity with him, day by day, in her womb! No, whatever the outward appearance, he was NOT in control of this situation... He rolled off her, onto his back, fighting the wrap of her legs only until she realized his intent. "Clean me up." Inez made to rise, and he grabbed a handful of her thick, black hair. "With your MOUTH, you silly cunt!" She subsided immediately and went to work, and Jason began to stiffen, again. There was no way he was going to cum again so soon, however, so he just dealt with it, "Less blowjob and more cleaning... Do you have an alarm clock in this hovel?" "Yes, Master." "Awaken me at five-thirty." Might as well rip off a piece before breakfast... Inez rose to set the alarm, and the post-coital urge to urinate seized Jason while he watched. "Come over here, I need to piss." "Yes, Master." Inez knelt up and cradled her Master's cock while he AGAIN poured urine down her, finishing the vile act with, "Okay, go wash up; I might want to use that mouth again tonight..." How she managed not to vomit wasn't clear to her. Inez spent ten minutes rinsing with mouthwash and brushing her teeth, but the ghost of the awful taste wouldn't go away... Being used as a receptacle like this was utter humiliation! For Jason's part, the exercise had value. She hated it -- that much was abundantly clear -- so she would continue to do it until neither of them thought anything of it. Use the tools that came to hand... Jason drifted off to sleep. Master was snoring softly when Inez came out of the bathroom. She stood there, trying to figure out what he would want her to do, and finally settled upon putting on a nightie and sliding in beside him. ------- Bianca, listening to the relative quiet from her bed, smiled ruefully. Mama didn't have much attention to spare for her the last couple of days... Bianca had left the Wench's penis gag demonstration soon after Mister Armand, grabbing dinner directly from Velma in the kitchen, which gave her an opportunity to watch Mama run back and forth and Mister Jason harass her. After dinner, she'd crept home and hung out in the sitting room while Mister Jason apparently wore Mama out; now she was in her bedroom trying to figure out what to do about it. It had long since come home to her that despite the beatings, abuse, and humiliation, given a choice, Mama would choose to be with Mister Jason. Bianca had a certain sentimental attachment to Papa, but Papa had always been too preoccupied with his various angers and injustices to deliver more than token support to her. And Papa's fine mix of anger and ignorance not only got him in trouble regularly, but had been applied to HER on a regular basis, too. Maybe SHE was better off with Mister Jason... In the meantime, having overheard what must have been some cataclysmic sex, she was hyped up... She slipped back out of bed, throwing on a robe, and padded out of her family's rooms to the kitchen. Velma was there, her bulk settled in a chair. "Hey, Honey how yo' doin'?" Bianca shrugged. "Things are pretty wild right now -- and hard to get away from..." "You miss yo' Papa?" Velma looked sympathetic. "Well, not that much, really." Bianca hung her head, ashamed of the admission. "Honey, Ah don' know howta say this, but yo' Papa lef' a black cloud everwhere he went. Jason might be a 'provement." "Mama isn't sure yet." Bianca pushed a lock of her lustrous hair behind her left ear. "Yes she is, Honey. Yo' Mama been sure fo' some time. Jason abuses da shit outta her, but he's payin' 'tention ta HER, not hisself! Some girls, it don' matter what KIND o' 'tention they get, long as they get SOME... An' Jason likes his sex, too. She ain't hurtin' fo' THAT, Ah bet..." "THAT's for sure!" Bianca rolled her eyes. "I think Mister Jason's up to three, tonight; from what I heard a little bit ago, Mama is getting two or three for one, too!" "Dat why yo' down here wit' an' ol' fat woman?" Velma chuckled. "Well..." Bianca grinned. "Usually, I talk to the Wench, lately, but Mister Charles has gagged her..." "He come through here wit' a soda bottle... New toy?" "Yeah." Bianca blushed. "It's a... penis gag." Velma rumbled and jiggled. "So Felicia's suckin' a rubber cock?" "Uh huh." "Lotta sex 'round here, fo' the likes o' you..." "Uh huh." "How you handlin' dat, Honey?" Velma eyed her critically. "Well..." "Li'l itchy?" Bianca nodded. "Mama and Mister Jason are hot, even if he's too violent for me. I'm holding my own with him..." Velma put her hands on the table and suddenly looked taut and dangerous. "He messin' wit' you?" "Oh, NO!" Bianca waved it off. "Not at all! He's kind of made it clear that if I need anything, I should come to him, but I have rights that Mama doesn't have, and one of them is the right not to be messed with. He's been fine, about that..." She pondered a bit. "But he has no problem using me to embarrass Mama. Last night he bent her over a chair in front of me to see what we'd both do." She grinned at the memory. "I sat there and watched a while, refusing to act excited -- even helped Mama pull her dress off!" Velma chuckled, jiggling. "But you WAS excited wasn't you?" "Yeah..." Bianca dropped her eyes. "Well, sometimes a girl got to take things in hand..." Velma eyed her sidelong. "Yeah." Bianca agreed, then continued, "Sometimes the Wench is worse -- that marathon blowjob thing on the porch the other day..." She sighed; she hadn't really handled that well... "Yeah, Ah heard sumpthin'. What was DAT all 'bout?" "Wench was deep throating Mister Armand and vomited. Mister Charles had her practice with four of the yard boys..." "Holy Jeezus! Fo'?" Velma's expression was comical. Bianca grinned. "She went through them, twice..." Velma shook her head, sighing. Bianca eyed her quizzically, and Velma muttered, wistfully, "Ol' fat women need luvin', too... Ah don' git much. Do a li'l sumpthin' here an' dere ta take da edge off..." She eyed Bianca. "Yo' young and purty. Boys be fallin' all over yo', Ah bet..." "I'm TOO young -- or at least boys my age are!" Bianca complained. "They're all just... boys..." "So, you lookin' somewhere else?" Velma eyed her sidelong. "Out t' the yard, mebbe?" Bianca blushed, "Well..." "Young Pete, mebbe? I got eyes. Ah dream a l'il bit, too. If Ah was fookin' mo' Ah'd be eatin' less..." Bianca blinked. "It's so hard?" "Ol' fat cow like me? What'm Ah goin' ta do? Hang a 'Fook Me' sign on mah door?" "Well, you could ask Mister Armand to bring you in something -- I hear he does it for the yard boys..." "Oh, shoah! Ah'm goin' go see da Boss an' tell him my wet spot needs workin'!" Velma rolled her eyes. "Da Boss done me once... You know dat, right? Boss ALWAYS does his womenfolk, least once. Bet he done yo' Mama..." Bianca nodded. "Problem is, it ain't 'bout fun -- it's 'bout the Boss makin' shoah ya know yo' place. Mo' like an ass whuppin' some ways..." She mused a moment. "Ah'm reachin' da point where all Ah 'member is da good parts..." Her regard sharpened. "Hey, yo' seen the yard boy's things, then? Their tools?" "Yeah." Bianca blushed. "You mind..." "Ummmm, okay." Bianca gathered a breath. "Anyone in particular, first?" "Ah dunno. Anybody, Ah guess. Take 'em in order..." "Well, I don't have any experience, so... I saw Phillippe's first -- it seemed pretty decent; had that skin thing..." "Fo'skin, Honey. How big was it?" "Oh, like so, I guess." Bianca measured out a distance with her hands, about six inches. This kind of tickled her -- it was kind of like telling a girlfriend at school. "Ed went second. He didn't have a foreskin, and his cock -- that's what the Wench calls them -- was a little longer, but narrower. The head was smaller, too. He gagged the Wench pretty seriously." "Yeah? That so? Huh..." Velma appeared to be visibly rearranging her fantasy cast of characters. "Okay, who's next?" "Boris," Bianca replied. "His was a little shorter than Phillippe's -- not much -- but it was thick. It had a foreskin, too. Boris has big... balls, too." "No shit? Ah didn't think you'd be seein' Boris..." "He wasn't happy, but he got over it. I was leaning over the Wench's shoulder while holding her arms, and I did this..." Bianca wiggled her shoulders, causing her bust to shimmy. "Poor guy's eyeballs about fell out and he just poured it down the Wench's throat!" she confided, giggling. "Wish Ah'd seen that..." Velma was wistful. "Who else? Pete?" "Uh huh," Bianca nodded. "Pete's cock is as beautiful as the rest of him. It's longer than Ed's, and about as thick as Phillippe's, circumcised -- is that right? Circumcised? Good sized balls, too!" Velma sighed. "Pete's outta my league, but I bet YOU could land him!" Bianca went cherry-red, and Velma continued, "Ah seen you watchin' him through da window... Dat what yer lookin' fo'?" Bianca couldn't raise her eyes. "If'n yo' huntin' DAT bunch, Ah think yo' oughta go by age; Pete first, den Phillippe an' Ed. Me, Ah probly hafta work back da other way..." "I STILL think you ought to talk to Mister Armand..." "Nah. Probly catch somethin'. Male hoors is all queer anyways. What Ah want fook wit' a queer fo'?" Velma chuckled. "Ya'll run along, now, Girl. Yo' done give an ol' fat woman enough fantasies fo' a while..." Bianca grinned and headed back to her room, snatching a soda from the refrigerator in the process. What Mama didn't know wouldn't hurt her... ------- Nate and Nora, Draper and Tenisha were sitting in Gino's Greasy Spoon, a popular hangout, having dinner. The guys were thanking God it was cheap, but otherwise, things were going well. On entry, Tenisha had announced that sitting in the two back booths was not an option; they'd attained a certain notoriety over the last few weeks as a place where wild things happened... Nonetheless, it was Friday, and still early, relatively speaking. Tenisha confided quietly to Nora while the boys paid the bill, "I can't be doin' that shit in public, but I wouldn't mind practicing a little tonight..." "Sex?" "Uh, yeah. The uh, oral kind..." Tenisha seemed embarrassed. "We haven't really done that..." "Well," Nora confided, "I'm not exactly an expert..." "Nate like it?" "Oh, yeah. I do, too. There's a... mindset to it. If you do sixty-nine, you're distracted by your own pleasure, so you don't do as well with his, and vice-versa. So it's best kind of one-sided..." "What about sperm? You swallow?" "Yeah." Nora shrugged. "I like the stuff. Nate gets a kick out of me sucking it out of the rubber after we have sex, and cleaning him with my mouth..." "Really? Wish we had somewhere to go..." "Well, since it doesn't seem to be a problem, let's got to my house!" "No shit? What about your Momma?" "Mom stays out of it; she and Daddy both basically approve of Nate and they know what we're up to. She might have a concern about you two if we rub her nose in it, but otherwise she'll probably assume we're being good, just because there are four of us..." "Okay, let's tell the guys. Isn't it funny that WE'RE the ones with a place?" "Yeah," Nora sighed. "Poor Nate..." "Draper's 'bout as bad. He's got a couple of older brothers who ain't role models, if you know what I mean..." "I can imagine." Nate and Draper ambled up, and Tenisha announced, "We're going to Nora's for a while, if you boys don't mind..." Draper interpreted the sly look that went with the announcement as probable trouble, but he didn't see much more going on than some heavy petting. Passing a look with Nate, he shrugged, "Okay." It was better than goin' home and beatin' off, by a long shot, even if it wasn't actual sex... Nate really didn't have much choice. His primary concern was the fact that he hadn't been deep in Nora since Wednesday. Well, shit, you can't have everything... "Sure." The girls got up and the two couples paraded out. In the car, driving home, Nora noticed Nate's preoccupation. "What's the matter, Honey?" "We're stayin' kinda public since you saw your Daddy..." "Oh, THAT! Don't worry, Honey. Neither Daddy nor anyone else has dictated the end of our sex life." She reached in his lap and played with the bulge behind his fly. "I'd play with it now, but I want to live to get home. Relax, Mama fix." She leaned over and ran her lips over his neck. "Awright." Nate shuddered. "THAT could get us killed..." ------- "Mom? We're home!" Nora announced herself fifteen minutes later, on arrival. "Draper and Tenisha are with us; we're going to go up to my room to watch some TV." "Why don't you use the big one down here?" Sharon countered, coming out of the den. "I can make myself scarce, if that's what is required..." She eyed her daughter sidelong. Nora thought furiously. "Uh, okay. Could you get us some Cokes and stuff while I run upstairs for a couple of things?" Sharon nodded and Nora bussed Nate quickly before dashing for the stairs. "One minute, guys! Settle in; I'll be right back!" Sharon figured her daughter had to pee, and Nate thought she might be after rubbers, but they were both wrong; Nora made straight for her mother's room and for what she'd mentally dubbed 'the toy box'. She remembered her original inventory of the contents, and something stuck out as topical... Yeah, there it was! 'Monster Cock Facials'! She snatched the video and crossed to her own room to shuck out of her pantyhose. With Nate, regular nylons and a garter belt were the way to go -- Daddy's maids had made THAT impression. She'd have to go out and get some... Rubbers were an afterthought; after all, she was planning on giving a blowjob... She stuck the DVD between two other cases and skipped down the stairs. Sharon was just finishing laying out some drinks and snacks on the coffee table. "I was going to bed, and I guess I don't see any good reason not to follow through. You kids stay out of trouble and make sure everyone gets home before their parents start looking for them, okay?" Nate could probably stay out all night without problems, but she wasn't sure about the other couple, a pair of black kids. The girl -- Tenisha? -- looked fairly prosperous and well-taken-care-of... "Okay, Mom. We'll make sure Draper gets Tenisha home before her dad comes looking..." Nora assured her mother, who nodded and walked out, headed for the stairs. Kids on a Friday night... Well, she was home, and they probably wouldn't be up to much in the den -- if they DID, it'd be Nate, who was a known quantity. Sharon, on the other hand, had to prepare for her next interview with Armand -- and that required sleep, if she could get it... Nora waited until her mother's feet were on the stairs, then riffled the videos before Tenisha, exposing the porn flick. "I thought we might learn something..." Tenisha fished it out, eyes round. Nate took a look and flashed Nora a glance, "Raidin' the toy box?" Nora grinned. Draper took a look at the source of comment and his eyebrows rose. What the fuck? Nora took up explanations. "We thought we might learn a bit about blowjobs..." The guys passed a surprised glance, which Draper shifted to Tenisha, who blushed, but held her ground. Handing the video to Nora, she said, "Start it up..." Nora went over and stuck it in the player. The guys were kind of embarrassed by the 900-number phone sex ads and such; the girls were giving them the eye like the content was their fault. Draper took a shot: "Baby, you sure 'bout this?" Tenisha produced a rather carnivorous smile. "Yeah. I need to see what I'm in for..." Draper succumbed to the temptation to be defensive. "These muthafuckahs'll probably be worse'n anythin' I dish out..." Tenisha's return glance said, 'We'll see... ' The glance she flicked Nora was triumphant; the boys were going to be all set to prove that THEY weren't the kind of bastards that took advantage of women, which would play into their hands... The credits and other preliminaries finally finished, and the first scene began with a perfunctory interview with a young blonde, interspersed at odd intervals with what must have been 'after' shots -- pictures of her with cum dripping from her face. They moved on to a scene with her kneeling up before a guy with a camera and a pretty sizeable erection, a side shot that still didn't show the guy's face. Nate reflected that at least he wasn't black... The guy said, "You understand, we're gonna go deep... You need to hang with it." The woman licked her lips and nodded, murmuring, "I like it deep..." Then she moved in and started licking. The two couples had settled on the couch girl-boy-girl-boy, with Nora on the far left. Tenisha turned to Draper, "Get it out." Draper was already stiff; she could tell. Draper flashed a glance at Nate, but Nora was giving HIM a look that said he should comply, too. Nate shrugged and undid his belt so he could rise up and shuck his jeans to his ankles. Draper rubbed his face and made shift to follow. Nora wrapped her hand around Nate's erection as soon as it was clear, which provided an incentive for Nate to be more thorough, toeing out of his running shoes and working on kicking fully free of his jeans. Draper rumbled, "What 'bout her Mama?" Nate shrugged. "I done worse, from her viewpoint." Tenisha wasn't going to allow backsliding. "Go on..." Draper grimaced. "Awright." Even if Nate could get away with this, it didn't mean HE could... But 'Nisha wasn't takin' 'No' for an answer... Her hand enveloped his shaft and started moving and he set himself to try to last a bit, if possible, given the stimulation. On screen, the young woman was working on the erection with ovalled lips and hollowed cheeks, her eyes on the camera shooting the action from above as if she were looking into her partner's eyes. Theory had it the guy getting serviced was filming it himself. She'd move in and out on it, jacking the length she wasn't running in and out of her mouth with her hand in rhythm to her suction. Soft hands on the boys' cocks unconsciously emulated the rhythm. Every once in a while, she's back off and lick it along the underside. The view shifted to a side shot that showed her using her free hand to massage the man's balls, then zoomed in for a close-up. Nate was starting to dance on the couch; he couldn't help it. Draper was absolutely rigid, attempting not to do the same. Nora glanced at Nate. "I don't want my face painted -- I want to swallow..." "I'm not gonna last..." Nate's voice was strained. Nora backed off on the jacking. "Grab my neck and get me there when the time comes." Nate wheezed relief while Tenisha nodded at Draper, eyes dancing. Tenisha stopped jacking, too, but Draper was afraid it was too late. "Squeeze it at the base, hard!" he gasped. Tenisha did so. "Hold it..." In a moment, he settled back again. "Okay." Nate figured the only reason he had any control at all was recent experience with Nora. When she backed off, he managed to get control back -- oh, he was hard enough to cut diamonds, but he wasn't gonna shoot right away... On screen, the man said, "Okay, drop the hand, I'm gonna drive for a while. The blonde let go of his erection and he palmed the back of her head and began driving her onto it. The blonde lasted about six strokes before she backed off, choking; her face, captured by the hand-held camera, displayed an increasing amount of discomfort with every stroke, ending with the retch. Saliva poured from her mouth in a sticky stream while she got control. The guy let it happen, waiting until she had it again before re- impaling her, pushing deep three or four times before backing off so she could gather herself while still mouthing him. Tenisha eyed Draper sidelong and he threw up his hands, "Hey, you gals picked this flick -- I ain't apologizin' for shit I ain't done!" She just grinned and started slowly jacking him again. "I guess deep throat is no picnic," Nora opined. "Not like THAT!" Nate agreed, "Mama..." He shut up abruptly. "Nate..." Nora eyed him sidelong. "Okay." Nate looked embarrassed. "Mama does it, but she's been practicin' a while. The way this dude is rammin' and jammin', I figure he's chokin' her on purpose." He eyed Nora defiantly. "YOUR..." He shut up again, glancing guiltily at Draper and Tenisha. Nora eyed Nate a moment. Well, the cat was out of the bag, so she might as well admit it. Nate would pay later, though -- and he knew it. "Yes, Honey, my Mom does it, too..." Tenisha merely shrugged. "Mine does, too. But I think Nate's got a point; this guy's choking her on purpose." Draper snatched up the box and scanned the advertising, then grunted. "Somethin' 'bout givin' 'em more'n they can handle..." On the screen, things had settled into a pattern: The standing man would allow the blonde a few sucking strokes, then take charge for a bit -- one cycle viewed from above and one from the side. The blonde's neck and chest were shiny and dripping from the copious flow of saliva that choking her was generating. After a couple more cycles, the man grunted, "Okay, try it on your own, now." The blonde gamely worked to absorb his entire length, and succeeded, working relatively slowly. She backed off, looking triumphant, and the man grunted, "Again..." The side view showed her straightening her throat for the effort. When she got it in, though, he pinned her to him, saying, "Okay, now we know you can do it, we're gonna pick things up. I'm gonna work deep for a bit to get started, then you can get me ready for your facial." He let go of her; even the time it took to make the utterance had her cherry red from gagging and lack of air. She staggered back, wheezing, and the man let her suck in a few breaths and get to something resembling control before he gathered her in again. "Awright, here we go! Keep your head down and your throat open!" The next bit was brutal, lasting longer than any previous cycle had. The girl was obviously suffering, but he was getting into her throat every third stroke or so, and the others appeared to be satisfactory, because he was puffing and making little pleased grunts. After what seemed to be quite a while -- even to sympathetic watchers, he backed off and grunted, "Okay, finish me off!" The blonde resumed jacking him and somehow managed not to break rhythm too much while she worked a much shorter length with her mouth. In a moment, the man took over jacking and a bit after that, he held her back off his erection while he grunted and began to shoot on her face, producing a reasonable quantity that hit one eye, one nostril, her forehead, and her open mouth. Somehow, the girl managed to smile while the camera caught this all at close range, and even wave for the fade-out. Tenisha turned to eye Draper, who shrugged -- but she didn't let him off, noting, "I see your dick is still hard..." Nora giggled, pausing the video. "It's a control thing. My Daddy gave Mom this video, and he's into that, so I'm not surprised. As for the boys, I bet they're hard-wired that way -- after all, women's rights are a recent fiction..." 'Fiction' got a look of surprise from Tenisha, but when she thought about it, it made sense. "Okay, so what are we gonna get out of this?" "Well, it's ALL relevant, under certain circumstances, but the early parts are more so for a cooperative effort," Nora opined. "There's more than one scene..." She started the video again. This time, a black woman knelt before what appeared to be the same male -- yes, it was -- the cock was the same. She fared no better than her predecessor, but the girls managed to learn a few things. The third scene featured a brunette with droopy breasts -- but she was a surprise, an apparently professional cock- gobbler who took all but the man's most brutal thrusts and seemed to enjoy herself. "Lessee that one again!" Tenisha urged when the scene was over. "Jeezus, 'Nisha!" Draper whined. Tenisha smiled and nodded at Nora who picked the scene again from the disk menu, then she bent over and lipped Draper's cock, stopping to murmur, "Big baby..." She tongued the underside, causing a teakettle hiss from her husky boyfriend before directing, "Stand up and turn around -- you don't have to watch the flick any more to have fun..." Draper got up, flashing Nora an embarrassed glance at this clearest display yet of his man-meat, but Nora was already turning to Nate, who could read the look. He got up, too, and Nora positioned him where she could watch the video for tips while working, then started by wrapping her lips around the crown of his glans and whirling her tongue around the tip. Nate closed his eyes and hissed an indrawn breath -- no, HE wasn't gonna need any flick... He glanced to his left at Draper and rolled his eyes, eliciting a tight grin -- but then Nora dove on him! He felt her shoulders hunch and her throat ripple -- even though he wasn't in it -- before she backed off... Nora backed off, gasping a bit, and advised Tenisha, "Go deep and gag a little bit -- it'll bring up some spit and make it easier to work. That's what she's doing..." She nodded at the screen. Tenisha's "Umm hummm," delivered around Draper's cock, was almost drowned out in the "Hrrgh!" Draper grunted at feeling the hum. She locked eyes with her boyfriend and pulled herself onto him, trying for depth. She tensed as it hit the back of her throat, and Draper felt his control disappear. "Fuck, Baby, I'm gonna shoot!" Tenisha backed off hurriedly. If she'd thought he was big and hard before... The head swelled, and the shaft went from firm to solid, and her tongue felt the pulse of the tube along its bottom as cum started blasting from the tip! Wow! Cum tasted... different. Thick, gooey, and with an odd tang that hung there on her tongue. Nora backed off Nate just long enough to admonish "Swallow!" before diving back onto him, and Tenisha did so. The stuff kind of stuck in the throat, too... But Draper was gasping and moaning and his hand in her hair told her that he really, really wanted to drive deep, so she sucked him in, still swallowing. After the first couple of blasts, he wasn't delivering that much, anyway -- nothing she couldn't keep up with... Draper couldn't believe it! Tenisha was sucking his cock like a pro! Or close enough, as far as HE was concerned, anyway... How on Earth could shit get any better? Crazy bitch damn near raped him every time they were alone together... Only fuckin' problem wit 'Nisha was she liked to run things -- an' so what? From where Draper stood, the bennies definitely outweighed the downside... "Oh, fuck, Baby! Damn!" Tenisha backed off, eyes dancing. "Well, okay. How long do you think it'll be before you're ready?" "You little shit!" Draper bent and dragged her in for a kiss. There was a taste there, but what the fuck? If she was gonna swallow his load, least he could do... Nora was taking the advanced course, watching the brunette on the video and diving on Nate's cock, varying things as she watched the woman do on screen. At the moment, the brunette was taking the impacts of one of the man's forced deep throat sessions; Nate, of course, wasn't trying anything like that, so she was trying to get deep on her own, taking it deep until her throat stopped her and backing off. Nate's knees were jumping, something he couldn't control; his hindbrain wanted him pounding that wet sheath he was soaking in! He had no idea how long he was going to last -- Hell, he was surprised it had been THIS long! Tenisha, coming up from her kiss, glanced over idly. "Nora, Honey, Get your head lower! See how she does it? Give Nate a straight shot!" While Nora complied, Tenisha idly watched Nate's cock saw in and out. Nothin' wrong with it, after all -- nice length... Draper's was thicker, though... "That's it! Lift your chin and give him running room..." Nora did as she was told. Yeah, this was better -- still no picnic, but better. Mom did this for Daddy, so it was possible, no question. Maybe she'd ask for pointers from Nate's Mama... The thought was hilarious, and she backed off to giggle at it for a second before resuming, something that neither Nate nor the witnesses quite understood... Tenisha shook the giggle off -- apparently Nora was having fun -- and offered more advice, "Nora, Honey, why don't you let Nate drive?" That she'd EVER advise a girl to hand Nate Adams sexual control over her was a strange idea, but, hey, this was a different kind of Nate, wasn't it? Nora looked up at her lover and gave him a fractional nod, her eyes trusting. Nate gingerly took her head in his hands. You dream of this shit -- just jammin' your dick down some cunt's throat -- funny, how it's totally different when they're important to you... Nate's first few strokes in control were no deeper than Nora had been taking him, anyway, but she seemed to set herself, so he gingerly pushed beyond. Nora's eyes just watched him; her shoulders hunched, but she didn't fight. Nate didn't hang around; he went back to shorter strokes for a couple, then tried again. Handing control off to Nate set butterflies to fluttering in Nora's stomach. Somehow, it was wildly exciting -- maybe more exciting than the act itself! The whole thing was a... gift... Having Nate actually TAKE the gift was fulfilling, satisfying. The discomfort was all a part of what made it valuable... Nate was getting there, too. There! He'd poked her throat again! Not deep, not long, and he gave her a respite in between, but he was getting beyond! Nora's attitude gave Nate confidence, so he went deep again, staying no longer than he had before -- just a quick in and out, a bit deeper than usual. Obviously, from the look on her face, Nora wasn't getting any direct pleasure from the deep stroke, but just as obviously she trusted him and intended to hang in there. Nate rocked her head back and forth a couple of times, their eyes locked, and went for depth again, just as Nora ducked her head a bit. There was a little pop -- felt, not heard -- and an inch of previously exposed cock disappeared into Nora's mouth while her eyes widened. Nate wanted to leave it there SOOOO bad, but it just wasn't smart... Withdrawing fully, he asked, "What happened?" "I..." Nora wiped her mouth, "swallowed..." "Okay?" "Uh huh." Nora leaned forward and Nate resumed driving. They watched each other; Nora knew it was coming almost before Nate did. Again, her throat opened, and Nate drove an extra inch in; this time, he was slower with the withdrawal, and just moved back to a normal 'out' position with her lips around his crown. He held position for just a beat, then took a 'regular' stroke, held a beat, and again went deep. Nora, for whom repetition was bringing a solid feel for the act, ducked and swallowed, and Nate went even deeper than before! If you could be said to smile around a cock, Nora was doing it, her eyes dancing while Nate's face revealed severe strain from dealing with the new sensations that the constriction at her throat was delivering. Draper had settled next to Tenisha and both were watching the act, goggle-eyed. "She's doin' it, isn't she?" Tenisha husked. Nate looked up at the pair and nodded tightly. "Wow! Cool!" Nate backed off again, taking it easy, took another normal stroke or two and telegraphed his intentions. Nora hunkered down and Nate slid forward, but when he stopped, Nora used her grip on his thighs to continue the stroke, sliding him home until her nose was buried in his kinky pubes. "Holy shit!" Nate gasped, and Nora felt it -- Nate's cock growing in her throat, hardening, swelling, pulsing... Nate couldn't leave. He'd taken over the grip and held Nora there while his cock fired off directly down her throat! He just couldn't pull out; instinct wouldn't let him -- he needed to be buried for this. Triggered, his cock fired once, twice, three times before sanity returned. When it became clear what was going to happen, Nora shifted from pulling on Nate to pushing -- but it was gentle, an announcement that when he let go, she was going to back off, not an urgent attempt at escape. Now, she backed off to hold his glans in her lips, eyes watering but not crying, ecstatic at the results of her efforts. The only downside was the fact that she'd missed the taste of those first few blasts, having received them beyond the point where her taste buds could come into play -- but Nate's essence was still pouring out, so there was plenty on her tongue, now... Nate was weak-kneed from reaction -- and scared to death he'd injured his woman! "Are you okay, Baby?" "Uhmm hummm..." Nora made shift to smile again around his shaft. "You SURE?" Nate worried. Her eyes were wet... Nora released his glans. "I'm fine, Honey. Happy, in fact. How was it?" "It was fuckin' AWESOME! But you're cryin'..." "Huh? Oh, that's just my eyes watering from choking a bit. Don't worry, Honey -- I'm fine!" Nora smiled broadly. "Jeez, I wanna applaud, but your Mama might not like it if she showed up to see why! That was something!" Tenisha enthused. Draper just nodded, big-eyed, figuring it wasn't smart to get TOO enthusiastic about another dude's woman in front of him AND your own... Little chunky-assed Nora's stock had gone up in his book; she still wasn't his type, but he understood clearly what Nate saw in her. Li'l bitch was sure game! Tenisha turned to him and husked, "We're gonna work on this, Baby; I'll get better. But in the meantime, how about you two work on US for a while?" Her eyes glinted, and Draper chuckled to himself; yeah, 'Nisha liked to run things, and no, it didn't REALLY bother him, since it only seemed to mean more sex... ------- Chapter 18: Late Night at Mary's Stick was lounging around, beginning to have serious thoughts about an earlier fantasy. The gay flick had ended with the first bottom circling around and sandwiching the black guy so that he shuttled back and forth between the dude he was pokin' and the one that was pokin' him. I was decent, but it was a little close to home, especially after Ted had stuck his finger up Stick's ass and made him shoot... No, Stick felt the need to get back on top of things, and an idea he'd had a bit ago just wouldn't go away... "Hey, uh, Mary -- you got any baby wipes?" "No, Hon, why? Ain't been any babies around here since I was one... What kind of flick do you want to see now?" Mary had her OWN axe to grind; the boys had gotten two apiece, now, at least -- and she'd been doing without, except for some clit-banging... "Put on one a' those equal opportunity flicks, like last time..." Stick directed. "Oh, bi-sex?" "Yeah, that." Stick wasn't getting wrapped around the axle by terms. "Too bad about the baby wipes..." "What's this about baby wipes, Hon?" Mary asked. Stick's glance flicked quickly between the other two, "I was thinkin' 'bout another comparison..." Mary chuckled. "Booty call!" She flicked a glance at Teddy. "Yeh..." Stick admitted. Teddy's eyebrows wet up. It was an interesting idea... Too bad... His ass had been sore for a couple of days this week, but he remembered last weekend's act with a certain fondness... "Hmmm. I've got some feminine wipes that might do a better job, if Teddy can get around the word..." Mary announced "Uhhh, okay..." Teddy was dubious. "There's something else we can do to prepare. Give us a few minutes, Hon," She bussed Stick on the lips. "Beer in the fridge. C'mon, Teddy." She took the boy's hand and led him off toward the bathroom, leaving Stick wondering vaguely what she was about -- but Mary always had shit in hand, so Stick refused to worry. He settled back on the couch to watch the bi-sex flick, slowly pulling on his meat. No way he was gonna waste the next one, beating off -- it might be his last tonight... In the bathroom, Mary settled Teddy on the covered toilet and began rummaging in the linen closet. "What're we up to?" Teddy asked. Mary turned, holding a couple of small boxes, "If you're going to do a lot of gay sex," she announced, " you're gonna have to get used to getting clean, first; your boyfriends aren't gonna get all excited about having shitty dicks! Not to mention the possibility that you'll have to clean up by mouth, after..." Handing Teddy one box, she opened the other, extracting a small bottle of fluid and a curiously pointed cap. "Open yours," she directed. "I'll do you and you can do me..." "What IS this?" Teddy inquired again while shredding the box. "Enemas, Hon. Disposable enemas." Teddy's eyes popped. "It's all right; they won't hurt you. Mother thinks they cure just about anything -- that's why I have some here..." "I dunno..." Teddy looked nervous. "Hon, this is THE way to make sure you have room in there for Stick's meat! It's GOT to be a gay thing, even though it doesn't get much press... Now stand up and lean over on the side of the tub, and spread your legs..." Teddy was NOT happy, but the whole thing sort of made sense... Besides, his mother had done this a couple of times to him, too. "All right," he sighed, positioning himself. Mary set up the applicator and lubed it with a little K-Y from the medicine cabinet, then gently inserted it. "Okay, here we go!" She started squeezing, collapsing the bottle. Teddy grunted against the feeling of uncomfortable fullness and urgency as the cool liquid entered his bowels. Almost immediately, he began to cramp. "Hey, how are BOTH of us supposed to use the toilet?" he complained. Mary's answer was matter-of-fact. "You're SUPPOSED to retain it for a bit, Hon. You hold yours while you do me, and then you can go first. But we SHOULD hold off for a few minutes..." She handed him the K-Y. "Here, do me." She turned and presented her ample posterior. While he gingerly inserted the tip and began to squeeze, she continued. "You need to learn to do this by yourself so that when you play gay sex games you're nice and clean. It's not that bad; you get used to it. Mother's been prescribing these things forever... I think she enjoys giving them." "The cramps suck," Teddy grunted. "Well, yeah, but they go away," Mary agreed. The cool flood in her bowels wasn't any picnic, either, but Teddy was being a baby. "Suck it up!" "Awright." Teddy wasn't getting much sympathy, so he shut up. It didn't change the cramping or the bloating or the urgency, but even HE recognized that whining wasn't going to improve things. "Now what?" "Now we go run around the block a couple of times," Mary grinned. "Yeah, right! Go ahead, I'm right behind you..." Teddy returned, getting in the spirit of the thing. Both of them were bent over from the cramping, wheezing from the abdominal pains shooting through them, but experience allowed Mary to handle it better. Mary settled on the edge of the tub. "Okay, go ahead." Teddy grimaced. "It'd be better if I waited?" "Yeah. Just a couple of minutes." "Five." Teddy glanced at his watch. "Five it is." Teddy settled beside her. "We oughta make Stick do this..." "Maybe someday, Hon. But if you're planning on sticking that plug of yours in Stick's ass, you're gonna have a looooooong wait, I'm afraid. Stick's not anxious to do that kind of thing in general, and it goes double for that fat monster between YOUR legs! Did you notice how he nearly freaked at your finger?" "Is that fair?" "Honey, homosexual sex isn't necessarily equal opportunity. Stick is what they call a 'top', I think; he doesn't have the mindset to get any fun out of having things done to him. You, on the other hand, are a 'bottom', and get something out of giving it up. Am I right?" Teddy thought about it. "Yeah, I guess..." Mary was sympathetic. "Your situation is complicated by that cock of yours. Nobody's EVER going to be ready to take THAT, cold; you need two other guys and a small pony to go first, to open things up for you!" The pair shared a chuckle. "Stick's not naturally inclined to go sharing his ass; that's gonna take a LOT of warm-up. As it is, I have to browbeat him into giving you a little head! Let's break him to THAT, first; ass can come later..." "Is this gonna happen?" "You and Stick? Well, it's more up to you than Stick, I think. As long as you still feel like you're benefiting from the relationship, Stick can be chivvied to hold up his end..." "If I have help," Teddy grunted flatly. "What about us?" "I don't think we have a problem. But it's the way I told you it was earlier this evening; Stick's running things. It's us against him, and for THIS fight, you're one of the girls!" Mary chuckled. Teddy let it pass. "What about this 'comparison' thing?" "Aside from a chance to fuck us both in the ass?" Mary shook her head, smiling ruefully. "Why should there be anything more to it? If YOU had a chance to do that, would YOU pass it up?" "Huh. Guess not..." Teddy squirmed uncomfortably. Mary caught it and nodded at the toilet. "Let's finish up." "Okay." Teddy gingerly settled himself, and the noises and the smell began. He colored, "Sorry." "Par for the course," Mary waved it off. "I'll be just as bad. I'd leave, but if I let go before you're finished..." Teddy nodded. Cleanup in the bathroom would be a LOT easier... Listening to Teddy voiding made everything that much more urgent for Mary, ratcheting up the discomfort level markedly. Teddy divined this from her expression and started wiping up. "I might not be done, but I can let you get started, at least..." Mary sighed relief. "Next time, we go one at a time." "There'll be a next time?" Teddy asked, surprised. Mary just eyed him, and he thought about it. "Yeah, I guess maybe there will..." He kept his head down as he hopped up. Mary's release was, if anything, noisier and more embarrassing, given the additional time the enema had to work. Teddy sat there, stoically, while she got through it; he wasn't quite certain he was finished... Mary pointed out a washrag on the towel bar, out of her reach. "Could you wet that? Toilet paper just isn't going to do it..." Teddy nodded and hopped up, wishing he'd thought of it. Mary's look of relief as she applied it reinforced his issues with the slight stickiness he was feeling; he'd use it, after... Mary got up. "Ready?" "Uhhh, not quite." "Well, it's best to be sure. Being able to push makes it easier, you know..." At Teddy's quizzical glance, she amplified, "If you push, you open up. It's kind of backwards, but it works..." Teddy shrugged and made a new effort to purge, but things had settled down, apparently. "Can you give me the rag?" "Let me wash it properly." Mary ran it under steaming water until its appearance had improved markedly. "Here, try this." Teddy gave himself a thorough wipe and rose to clean the rag himself. "That IS better than paper..." "Yeah," Mary replied absently, "you have to deal with the liquid mess..." She collected the K-Y. "Ready?" "Yeah." Teddy followed her out. Stick looked up as they circled the couch, "Ya'll okay?" "Yeah," Mary agreed. "You might have to give us a bit to get back in the mood, though..." Stick frowned. "What'd you do?" "Enemas," Mary said flatly. Stick blinked. "Really? Shit..." "NO shit!" Teddy insisted, to a general chuckle. Stick let them both settle in, wondering what he should be doing to make things better. Mary had a chest, so when he wrapped an arm around her he could get at one of her nipples. Teddy's nips had a little pooch to them, sorta like an eleven year old girl, but they weren't even out there for a boy, and there was no telling whether they were sensitive... Stick's, for instance, weren't known for being a source of fun; they hurt -- that seemed to be the only thing you were gonna get out of them. If Teddy's were like that, it'd be a big waste of time messing with 'em. Kissing... Stick was comfortable with kissing Mary, but UNcomfortable with the idea of kissing Teddy... With Teddy, Stick's options seemed to be limited to playing with his meat... Even THAT wasn't something he did lightly, but shit, look what the little guy was doing for HIM... Stick reached down and began toying with Teddy's member, which was only beginning to show something in a solid core under the stimulation of the video -- nowhere NEAR full size. Stick tried to divide his attention between Mary's right nipple and Teddy's meat, but it was hard -- concentration on either one seemed to leave him ignoring the other. And of course it left NO attention for HIS pleasure... But the other two BOTH noticed his flagging erection and took action to sustain it, Teddy jacking him while Mary leaned down and took the head in her mouth. Pretty soon, all three of them were roaring along, watching two boys work alternately on a skinny redhead and each other. At this point, on-screen, the girl had her hands full, squatting over one of the males who was working his tongue in her snatch while she masturbated him and simultaneously allowed the other the use of her mouth. A shift of position gave her less to do; the blowjob recipient settled facing her and began working himself onto the other male's cock, so she shifted to kissing and masturbating him while he raised and lowered himself on the other's upright erection. Stick decided that this was as good a time as any... "Awright, why don't you two circle around an' lean on the couch, an' we'll get this show on the road..." Neither Teddy nor Mary showed much in the way of reluctance. Mary surfaced the K-Y and the feminine wipes from the end table as she circled around and handed them to Stick before she settled over the couch back. Stick suddenly realized that he needed time to get organized; he was gonna be playing stink-finger games with both hands, so everything needed to be open and ready... "Ya'll back it off a bit so you can diddle, an' spread 'em while I get my shit together..." he dragged a straight chair from the kitchen area to put things on and opened up the box of wipes and the K-Y so he could get at them, then turned his attention on the pair before him. Objectively, Teddy had the nicer ass; it was round and compact, and while it didn't look particularly female, it didn't look particularly male, either. Mary's, by comparison, was square and blocky -- not to mention a good deal larger -- and showing some cellulite dimples. But that was a pussy below there, while Teddy sported a pair of fat, heavy balls... Stick could see her fingers working as she rubbed her clit. Teddy's balls jounced around a bit, but Stick couldn't actually see him jerking off... Stick moved forward and put a hand on each ass, giving them a good feel -- okay, Teddy's FELT nicer, too! But it was all relative, and nothing to get excited about... Both took it well, too, waiting for him to get serious. Stick decided to start with Mary -- after all, he'd HAD Teddy's ass... He went and got the K-Y and, dribbling a bit on his finger, started playing with the rubbery ring of Mary's asshole. Mary moaned a little and hunkered down; her fingers were just flying on her clit... Stick worked on opening her up, getting one, then two fingers in, while dribbling K-Y into the opening as best he could. The shit was a pain in the ass about going where it wasn't needed, though, and pretty soon Mary's whole ass was slippery, it seemed like. Stick thought about getting some paper towels and wiping up, but that seemed wasteful; instead, he began to work on Teddy, giving him equal time. Teddy was a lot more nervous than Mary, all clenched up; it took Stick a while to get to the two-finger point. But he took it easy and Teddy didn't complain, other than grunting a bit. Mary had made a serious effort to be receptive, and was just getting into Stick's fingerings when they went away. She looked to her left, where Teddy, red-faced, was leaning on one elbow so he could tug that fire plug of a cock of his with his other hand and enduring Stick's assault on his ass. It was kind of fun to watch; Teddy was obviously having issues with the penetration, but dealing with it, and Stick was taking it easy and not going nuts, just as he had with her. Once Stick got one finger in, he got this look on his face and shifted the way he was working his finger. Teddy reacted visibly and was suddenly a lot more cooperative; at Mary's quizzical glance, Stick muttered, "I remembered that massage thing..." Teddy had been having an unaccountably large amount of problems with the invasion -- he was tense, and worried about after-effects of the enema, and was having trouble unclenching. But Stick started rubbing his insides differently with his finger and suddenly it was urgent that he get more... Clenching became a whole lot less important and he opened right up. Stick's mutter about the prostate massage penetrated, explaining why he suddenly really wanted something in there... Having gotten results from Teddy, Stick stepped between Teddy and Mary and again started working her anus, leaving his left hand in Teddy's ass. Stick had been very deliberate about only working Teddy with his left and only working Mary with his right so that he could reach this point, and it paid dividends almost immediately... Mary liked anal sex. Some people loved it, and some people hated it; Mary found herself solidly in the former group. She was able to cum from anal stimulation, alone; her ass was sensitive, and, approached properly, provided the kind of pleasure that could augment an orgasm or even grant her one. A little clit work to play off it, and she was gone... This time was no exception; she'd been fooling with her clit for a couple of minutes, and Stick was lubing well and taking things easy, so about a minute after he restarted working his fingers in and out of her, her knees began to shake. "Uuuuuuuuhhhhhh..." Teddy glanced over at Mary, who was red faced and glassy-eyed. She seemed to be seriously getting ready to get off, and SHE didn't have any glands in there to play with! It didn't seem like Teddy needed any excuse to enjoy himself... Stick was shifting his glance between his play partners. Teddy was relaxed, presenting his ass a bit to Stick's fingers, and Mary seemed to be getting seriously heated... Abruptly, Mary's legs were quivering and her head snapped up, "AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH, GODDDDDDDD!!!!!" Her asshole started pulsing around Stick's finger, gripping and squeezing, and Stick chuckled in amazement -- that was a cum, all right! The things her asshole was doing to his fingers were something else! Mary wasn't sure how she got there, but suddenly she let go in a major way! She remembered wailing something as orgasm took her, but not what; the waves crashed over her and she trembled and shook, sliding forward to lean hard on the couch back to take the load off of weak knees. Floating there, her post-orgasmic tendency to babble produced, "Ooh, Baby, even your fingers are good! You can have my ass any time!" Teddy was trying to decide whether to be put off by the competition or not; Mary's little post-orgasmic utterance had set off alarm bells. But the good news was that Stick had basically stopped working her ass while she recovered, which meant more fun for him... Stick handled things better one at a time; having two asses at his command meant that he had to shift his attention back and forth, leaving the other hand to work it's asshole on automatic while he concentrated on one. It worked, but he tended to believe that he wasn't doing the best job either place. Now, he re-evaluated his early plan to take Mary first -- was that a good idea, right after she'd cum? Stick flat didn't know, but it was a good time to spend some attention on Teddy... He started pressing on that area in him where the gland was, and Teddy started snorting. "Don't... Make me cum..." Teddy pled. Stick backed off -- he'd do Mary after all. Teddy loved the attention, but didn't want to be painting the back of the couch with his cum! He might not be able to shoot again tonight, and wasting it on the floor didn't strike him as a hot idea -- he wanted a mouth to cum in! Whether he'd see that during THIS act, though, was an open question -- there didn't seem to be any available... Stick decided it was time to have fun. He stepped back, extracting both sets of fingers, and snatched a wipe to use on his hands, then stepped up behind Mary and began rubbing his cock against her greasy ass. The head picked up plenty, quickly, but the shaft wasn't going to, unless... He stepped forward and began running his cock along the crack of Mary's ass, picking up the excess all along the bottom and sides of his cock. After a moment, he stepped back and began distributing it with his hand, working it along the rigid length. Mary also stepped back, resuming her earlier spread position from her lean over the couch back. The feel of Stick's cock sliding between her ass cheeks had lit a fire of anticipation in her that could only be quenched one way... Anal sex is seldom easy on beginners -- even those prepared for it! Stick barely managed to get the head of his cock through the tight opening before this was brought home to both of them as the lube -- which had SEEMED copious -- ran out... Stick momentarily gave in to the urge to just attempt to power his way in, something Mary objected to with a wail of pain as she felt what seemed like Stick using sandpaper to smooth the inside of her sphincter, "Aahh! Shit, Stick! More lube, Honey -- PLEASE!" Yeh, okay." Stick reached awkwardly for the tube and slathered K-Y at their junction, backing off just a bit to try to get it inside in previously penetrated territory. In a moment, things improved, either because of the lube, or a reduction in resistance from Mary's bung, or both. "Howzat?" "Better..." Mary's ass was still burning, but not the way it had been. She sighed and nodded. Stick started slowly moving back and forth, opening things up and gaining ground. Over the next minute or so, he got a good bit of his length buried, but seemed to reach another stopping point a couple of inches from being fully buried. He took another run at lubrication -- Hell, even Teddy's ass was THAT deep... When you thought about it, asses probably had it on pussies, from a depth standpoint... Finally, whatever the resistance was, it was overcome, and Stick slid into Mary's rectum to the root. Immediately, he shifted to a longer stroke to get more pleasure from Mary's ass, working the tight ring from the crown at the base of his glans to the root and back. Mary had surprised him earlier, cumming on his finger, but he didn't expect a repeat, and he wasn't going to shoot for one -- this was HIS ride... He worked his cock in her, stirring up her insides with increasing force, until she was rocking under the impacts as he reached for maximum sensation. The video actually signaled an end to the act; the trio on screen stopped to change positions, reminding Stick what he was there for. He stopped, reluctant, and withdrew. "Time for Act Two!" he announced, stepping over to the chair and collecting a wipe. The relative lack of a mess was surprising; the wipe picked up some stuff that wasn't readily visible, but it was nothing huge, and cleaned up easily. Stick wiped his hands and lubed up EVERYTHING, then turned to Teddy, who was watching over his shoulder. "Awright, here goes!" The problem was immediately apparent; Teddy had closed up again while Stick was working his cock into Mary, whether because of the time involved, or 'cause he was scared, or 'cause of Mary's pissin' and moanin' over the fit... "Damn!" Stick wheezed, "Next time, I'm gonna bring somethin' ta put it the one o' ya I'm not doin' so it ain't such a fight when I come back..." "One sec!" Mary dashed over to her bedside table and withdrew a six inch vibrator. "How about this?" she asked, handing it to him. "Perfect," Stick returned, turning the item over in his hands and playing with the power switch, "Jus' perfect!" He powered it on and touched it to Teddy's asshole and he jumped like he'd been electrocuted. All three of them laughed. Turning back to Mary, he rasped, "Well? You're the one closin' up..." Mary resumed her position -- bent over the couch, spraddle-legged -- and Stick applied the vibrator to her ass. Given the fact that he'd just been in there and the object was solid, there was only a little bit of a fuss over the insertion; Mary's bung had already seen too much action to be able to fight effectively. Stick buried it deep, all the way to the base -- after all, he was bigger than it was... Turning back to Teddy, he resumed the fight, working in a finger, and then two, while rubbing his ass, "Loosen up, Man..." Teddy was trying, but his ass wasn't listening; fortunately, the effects of previous efforts hadn't TOTALLY dissipated... "I'm t-trying..." He gave attention to the video in an effort to gain some relaxation; on screen, the redhead was lying back, playing with her nipples while one of the males tongued her cunt and the other took advantage of his kneeling position to slide his cock in and out of his ass. If HE could take it... Stick started hunting for Teddy's prostate again, and slowly recovered his lost ground. Just as he was preparing to try another insertion, there was a scuffle and a thud and the vibrator went rolling across the floor. "Oops!" Mary said, glancing around for it. Stick shook his head, chuckling, "You're SUPPOSED ta keep it in!" "Uh, yeah..." Mary found it and re-inserted it, then wiggled it a bit, sliding it in and out. But it was a bit of a reach... Stick was ignoring her, though, having started the main event with Teddy. Teddy remembered Mary's injunction to push, and it worked -- at least well enough to facilitate the insertion of Stick's glans. The thing felt like a baseball bat to Teddy; Mary's comments on the chances of him doing this to Stick made quite a bit of sense... "Easy..." he grunted. Stick was getting tired of the long fight thing that ass-fucking seemed to entail, but he DID realize he was doing the hard part twice. He hung out patiently, just inside the gates, getting his by wiggling back and forth with Teddy's pucker wrapped around the base of his cock head while Teddy settled down. He glanced over at Mary, who was playing with the vibe, holding it in with one finger, letting her ass push it out and sliding it back in. THAT, at least, seemed to be working... On impulse, Stick reached over and rotated the rotary power switch on the vibe, turning it on. Mary's eyes popped and she went, "Ooooo!!" eliciting a strained grin from Teddy, who was looking for a diversion. The change pleased Mary. The vibe had been doing its job, but it felt... hard... Vibration sort of softened its outlines while adding a layer of stimulation to the nerves of her anus. She tuned the vibration to a pleasant level, discovering that high was too jarring to be enjoyable, and resumed sliding it in and out, turning her attention to the video. Stick added a bit more lube to the ring holding his cock, and began to saw back and forth, pushing a bit more of his length into Teddy with each stroke. Teddy, having settled himself to try to get pleasure from the act, began to find it and relax. In a few strokes, they were past the initial insertion phase and Stick was able to bury his length in Teddy's ass, watching his asshole pooch and dimple as he moved in and out. This went on for a couple of minutes, Stick taking it easy, but moving in and out in long strokes, taking pleasure without driving hard. Teddy got over the invasion part and on to the solid length of flesh moving in a sensitive area part. Certainly, he didn't have a clit down there, but he was working his cock with his hand, and the two sensations played off one another nicely. Unconsciously, he set up a pattern of masturbation that mirrored Stick's penetrations, which seemed to amplify things. The video was forgotten as he looked inward for his pleasure, concentrating on the stimulated nerves of his cock and anus. Stick noticed the difference when Teddy started presenting his ass and groaning a bit. He picked up the pace, which set up an urgency in both of them, as Stick's balls began rhythmically slapping against the sensitive area between Teddy's asshole and his balls, adding a tickle of kinky pubes as well as the soft slap. Very quickly, Stick started feeling the strain that said a cum was coming -- but that wasn't what this was all about... Reluctantly, he stopped and reached over to collect the vibe from Mary. Neither of the other participants was pleased; Teddy ground his ass against Stick, and Mary whined at having her toy removed while Stick wiped off the vibe. Quickly, he withdrew from Teddy and replaced his cock in the still-gaping opening with the vibe, then moved away, wiping off his cock with a feminine wipe while shifting to behind Mary. This time, he merely attempted insertion without re-lubricating his cock; Mary grunted, but the head didn't get much of a fight and a little sawing back and forth got him going again, long- stroking. Yeah, this worked... Mary was left with the initial impression that she preferred the vibe to Stick's cock, but that melted away in a moment when he began bashing into her furrow, adding that to the feel of his flesh moving in her expanded rectum. There was something to be said for a well-upholstered ass, Stick decided as he got his rhythm going. Teddy's was okay, but you couldn't, like, grab a handful of it... Mary's was rippling as Stick pounded into it, and although Teddy's did, too, it was somewhat different. Mary's chin was resting on her forearm, and her other hand was giving her clit a workout. She'd relaxed almost immediately, and was enjoying the feel of Stick's rigid flesh filling her and sliding past the nerve endings in her sensitive ring. It wasn't to cum for, she didn't think, but a little clit work, and... Suddenly, she realized just how far she'd come -- orgasm was hanging there, just out of reach! She could probably double up on her clit, or maybe slide a finger into her pussy... Stick decided that Mary as TOO comfortable -- her ass was getting slack. The classic method for fixing THAT was... SMACK! Stick swatted Mary on the ass before he'd even gotten the thought completely formed. Mary, surprised, clenched, and turned huge eyes on her narrow black lover. She started clenching her ass deliberately, a side effect of which was an equal clenching of her pussy... "Aww, c'mon, that didn't hurt..." Stick chided. "N-no..." Mary remembered a recent conversation with Nora where she described Nate employing a similar tactic. She let up on the rhythmic contractions, watching him. Stick let it ride for a few seconds, his eyes on hers; as a result, she never saw it coming... SMACK! Mary's other ass cheek quivered under an impact from Stick's left hand. Mary moaned and clenched, turning her head back to the front in resignation. She would take this, and she preferred to be surprised by the impacts; there was something going on... Actually, there were a couple of things going on. The sting of Stick's hand on her ass was part of it; the resulting contractions in her ass and pussy another. The balance holding her orgasm at bay tipped, and Mary began sliding toward it; Sticks next two swats, spaced several seconds apart, were bumps in that slide, but didn't impede it -- in fact, they hurried it along... "Oooohhh! Ooh, GAAAAAAAWWWWWDDDDD!!!" Mary's asshole went nuts -- her pussy went nuts -- SHE went nuts, as sparks flew before her eyes. Sensing imminent collapse, Stick pushed her forward so that the couch back took her weight. It wasn't exactly clear how he managed to hold off and not cum, given what Mary's asshole was doing, but he did, so it looked like it was time to switch again... Stick collected a wipe and, withdrawing from Mary's ass, cleaned himself up again; once again, there wasn't much to do... Teddy hadn't been thrilled when Stick withdrew to move to Mary, but the vibe had been new and strange, and... interesting... It had resonated along the root of his cock, doing strange things to his hand job... He'd been concentrating on the video, sinking into the sandwich on the screen, when Mary's wail of completion distracted him. Moments later, Stick removed the vibe, causing a vacancy. "Hey..." But Stick was already replacing it, nosing his cock against Teddy's still-gaping sphincter. "Don' worry, I got it..." "Uhh..." But it was too late to get excited about it; Stick was already beyond the gates. "O-okay..." He settled himself to ride it out, but it wasn't bad... As a matter of fact, it felt pretty decent... Stick wasn't complaining. Mary had loosened up quite a bit, even though she'd recovered quite a bit there at the end -- but Teddy was still tight. He set himself and started working for the nut he'd put off before. Teddy took it. Stick was powering past his prostate on every stroke and going deep, but he'd been there before, and it hadn't been bad... Teddy resumed working his cock with his hand, his erection augmented by the urgency of Stick's cock head sliding past his prostate. But Stick was well on his way, and his urgency drove him to pound Teddy harder and harder, "Ahh, shit, Man! I gotta get this! Awwwwwww!!!" The urgency wouldn't be denied; Stick couldn't hold out any longer. "Gonna shoot! HNNNNNGG!!!!" Stick drove in deep and pulsed out his seed into Teddy's guts. Teddy felt the pulsing, even though he couldn't really feel the results. Stick collapsed across the smaller Teddy like his strings were cut -- he was wasted! Teddy slid forward so he could take the weight by leaning across the couch back -- after all, he was still impaled on Stick's meat... But Stick was gone, done for the night; his cock was shrinking quickly. He staggered back, grunting, "Shit, Man! I'm wasted..." "Go crash, then, Hon," Mary said. "Shit, I guess I'm not getting any..." Teddy surged up to oppose this idea, "No! I'm not done! Go get on the bed!" "Hoooo, boy!" Mary's ass was distended, but her pussy hadn't seen any work, and Teddy was a challenge under ANY circumstances. "Bring the lube..." She staggered off to the bed. Teddy followed, snatching up the K- Y. He was rock-hard from continuous stimulation, so despite the fact that this would be his third cum of the evening, he was ready. Mary was, too. She'd cum from masturbation, primarily, and was ready to deal with a cock where it belonged. Oh, the cum aided by Stick's cock in her ass had been wonderful, but... There wasn't any warm-up, despite the known difficulty in fit between Teddy's chunky cock and Mary's channel. Neither of them was in any shape to be interested in serious delays. The pair, enervated, cooperated almost instinctively, Mary rubbing Teddy's cock with K-Y while he pushed one, then two fingers into her. This lasted a VERY short time before Teddy started pushing his thick cock at her opening. The pair, both of whom had suffered discomfort before, were disinclined to allow it to get in their way; Mary pulled Teddy toward her, urging him into her despite the uncomfortable issues of initial fit, spreading herself and lifting her knees into position over her small splayed tits. Teddy forced himself in and began to push back and forth, spreading Mary's vagina open by main force. Mary accepted -- welcomed -- this, uncomfortable as it was, momentarily, two fingers working her clit furiously as he wedged his mushroom head and began to cycle it back and forth in her. Discomfort dissipated quickly; neither of the participants was in a state that allowed anything but a focus on eventual satisfaction, and that's what they did. Both rose quickly above the issue and moved forward toward completion. Neither of them had thought to spare for the other, particularly -- both were under such urgency to get their own satisfaction that all other conditions were secondary. But fortunately, both were ALSO more than ready, and Teddy's efforts were more than sufficient. Mary began rising on a wave of pleasure in seconds, running just ahead of Teddy, who was bathing his cock in her tight channel, getting the kind of sensation that a hand just didn't supply. "Ooooh, Baby! Keep it comin, Hon!" Teddy kept pounding, somehow, his attention on holding his cum until he had maximized his pleasure. Mary had no argument with this at all, as it gave her precious seconds and strokes. "Okay! Okay! I'm gonna... AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!" Teddy brought her home, to a gigantic cum, causing her to lock rigidly and pulse, her stomach muscles bunching and rolling with the contractions. Teddy reached his end under the impetus, jamming himself deep and pulsing in Mary at a furious rate. But his output was down, so he merely pulsed and surged under the waves of pleasure Mary's pussy provided, a huge pumping action with little to move. No one was complaining. Both collapsed in exhaustion after FINALLY getting the big one. Stick, who had been unable to generate a new hard-on despite the live show, collapsed on the couch while Teddy drifted off to sleep atop Mary, who was too wasted to move him. ------- Chapter 19: Late Night Sex and Early Morning Recovery At Nora's house, the boys had not taken issue with the idea of a little cunt lapping, so everyone had creamy expressions on their faces as Tenisha and Draper made their way out of Nora's and into his car for the return to Tenisha's. Nate stood there on the porch waving goodbye to them, then turned reluctantly to Nora, "Guess I'll be goin', too..." But Nora took his hand firmly and drew him back through the door closing it. "I don't see why... Let's go upstairs." Nate blinked. "Your Mama..." "... Will deal with it," Nora interrupted equably. "Mom and Daddy BOTH are aware we're having sex -- nobody's going to go off the deep end if you stay the night..." Resistance quelled, she led him to the stairs. "Come on, let's go to bed..." Nate couldn't help grinning. ------- Things went similarly at Tenisha's. The couple pulled up before her house and started some torrid necking when Tenisha suddenly said, "Why are we doing this out here? Let's go inside!" Draper blinked. He'd assumed that the evening was over, and he was merely prolonging it a bit. "Uuh, okay." He shut off the car, and Tenisha led him inside, her finger to her lips. Once inside, instead of heading for the den, she turned to the stair. Draper stopped, hissing, " 'Nisha? You nuts?" Tenisha turned to him, frowning. "You've been there before..." "Your Papa didn't like it!" "That's tough!" Tenisha all but stamped her foot. "THAT's under control -- forget about it! Now come on -- unless you're done for the evening..." She arched an eyebrow. "What?" "Did I wear you out?" Draper had no defense against THAT! She'd taken a shot right at his male ego! "Awright! Le's go!" He moved into the lead, pulling a grinning Tenisha up the stairs. Guys were SOOO easy... Why hadn't she figured this out before? Twenty minutes later, Alonso Porter surged up in bed. "What's that?" "Mmmm?" Bess listened a minute without opening her eyes; she'd JUST got to sleep... "Tenisha's home." "Doin' what?" "Oh, c'mon, 'Lonzo! You don't know what sex sounds like?" Bess was scornful. "Shit, we just did it forty minutes ago!" "Dammit, I ain't runnin' a cat house!" The murmurs of "Oh, Baby!" that had awakened him were increasing in volume and becoming strident. "You're not... She was out with Draper, and I have no doubt that's who she's IN with! Aren't you glad she's home safe?" "Well, yeah, but all that noise? What if she wakes up Jimmy?" "Do WE wake up Jimmy?" "Well..." As far as Alonzo was concerned, the jury was still out on that one... "Shut up and kiss me. I'm starting to get horny again." ------- Jimmy Porter was thrilled to death! That peephole he'd opened into Sis's room was paying BIG dividends! He'd been laying there, sleepless, working his meat and fantasizing about little Tina French, whose tits were ANYTHING BUT little, at this point, when Sis and her boyfriend had showed up. Quickly, he'd hopped up and quietly moved the clothes along the bar at the end of his closet, the end of which butted on the back side of Tenisha's. 'Nisha seldom closed her closet doors, and this time was no exception; when he removed the clear tape covering the carefully fashioned plug to his peephole, he had a fine view of his sister swapping serious spit with that big bastard, Draper Travis! In a couple of minutes, both of them were half out of their clothes and the other half was obviously coming, from the way Sis was holding onto Draper's meat! Draper had serious meat, too -- Jimmy was only about five and a half inches, and kind of narrow, but he WAS only twelve! Locker room experience said he'd probably get another inch or two, and some girth, in a couple of years -- but what Draper had? He wasn't sure... Sis didn't seem to have any problem with it, though! She had the thing out and wasn't letting go of it! Sis wasn't much of a girl in Jimmy's opinion -- all scrawny, without much in the way of titties except nipples -- but Draper didn't seem to be complaining. Girls Jimmy's age ran the gamut; most of them were just sprouting, here and there -- and a good deal of them ALREADY had more than Sis did, several years later! Tina French, for instance... Them things on HER chest HAD to be 34B, and they almost grew in front of Jimmy's eyes, it seemed like, sometimes... Waitaminnit... Jimmy's attention returned to the present, where Sis had fallen back onto her bed, and Draper was waiting for her to get organized so he could climb on, obviously... Holy Shit! What a gash! Jimmy's peephole faced the foot of Tenisha's bed directly, and when Sis spread her legs, Jimmy got an eyeful! Sis always fingered herself under the sheets, so despite the moaning and thrashing around, Jimmy hadn't actually SEEN her cunt until now, but there it was! Draper was running two fingers along the upper end, and Jimmy could see a LOT of pink, the way she was opened up! Shit, she was almost as big as Momma, there, and SHE hadn't had any kids to stretch it out... Jimmy had seen Momma's gash on a couple of occasions -- Momma wasn't particularly modest, especially if you caught her just before or just after her and Poppa were doing it... Her nighties generally didn't cover the action, and she didn't wear her housecoat like when she was cooking breakfast and such... Jimmy used to like to come out and bang on their bedroom door asking for a blanket after they finished doing it, so Momma would come out and dig around in the bottom of the linen closet for it bent over with her gash showing and Poppa's cum running down her leg. It made for one helluva jerk-off session afterward... Jimmy's mind drifted back to the present. It looked like big gashes ran in the family... Draper knelt up between Sis's upraised knees and started nosing his serious length of pipe between her legs, and Jimmy fished out his stiffie and prepared to go along for the ride... Tenisha was more than pleased with her tactics; once Draper's capability to take care of her action was impugned, he came on like a wild bull! They'd not fooled around with a bunch of preliminaries, but then she'd had all that, earlier. Now, she was flat on her back with her knees up, and her man was gonna scratch her itch... Draper knelt up and started rubbing his cock head against Tenisha's opening, which was going to need some coaxing to take him, coming in from such a raw start -- but by God if she thought he was done after a little fuckin' blowjob, she had another think comin'! He slid two fingers down alongside her clit to help with the warm-up, but there was a certain urge to be a rough-rider in him, and she'd set it off! Draper was gonna wear her scrawny ass out! That thought uppermost, he started jamming away. Draper's brutality came as a surprise to Tenisha, but upon reflection, she'd been asking for it. She reached down to hold her inner lips open to keep them from impeding Draper's already dry attack while feeling the first wash of her lubricant begin -- after all, this wasn't rape -- she wanted it! Instead, she just watched his eyes... Draper held up after getting the head in -- it was jus' too much work to fight the fuckin' thing in without lube! He rocked back and forth, waiting. What could he do to speed shit up? Oh, yeah... He leaned down and took one of Tenisha's stiff nipples between his teeth... "Uuuuuuuunggghhhh!" Tenisha moaned and surged, and Draper grinned. She'd catch up NOW! Tenisha didn't have much in the way of breast flesh, but she had long, stiff, sensitive nipples that Draper loved to play with. They seemed to be hot-wired to her clit, too! Draper rolled the gristly spike between his teeth and washed it with his tongue, and Tenisha started driving herself onto him from below! Jimmy was getting an eyeful. He'd had no idea that nipples were that big a trigger point -- Ol' Sis had gone fuckin' nuts! Draper was snapping his hips now, and Jimmy had a front row seat to see the progress he was making! It wasn't more than a half-dozen strokes and Draper shifted to long-stroking that shit, pouring his whole length to her on every pass -- and Sis was loving it! You could tell by how she was moving, even before she started making noises -- but the noises were a dead giveaway; she sounded just like Momma! Draper grinned tightly as an already familiar litany -- "Oh, Baby! Oh, Baby! Oh, Baby..." -- started, low and quiet, initially, then more and more loudly as Tenisha approached her first cum of the session. "So, am I done?" "Hnnngh!... No..." Her mother could have told her from experience that he'd tire, eventually, and she'd regain the upper hand, but for now Draper was in control, and that was just fine... Jimmy grinned from ear to ear. Sis musta been talking her usual shit, and Draper was making her pay! Kewl! One day, he'd figure out a way to tease her about that without risking discovery... In the meantime, Draper was making like a pile driver, and Sis's litany of "Oh, Baby!" was running right up the scale, just like Momma's, when Poppa tore up HER ass... Jimmy rode the wave, his hand flashing up and down on his prick to the tune being played in the next room. Sis's ass started bouncing all over the place like she was trying to take Draper's balls, too, and the noise level hit its peak: "OHHHH, BAAAAAAYBEEEE!!!" Sis had her ass all up in the air, straining, and her asshole started winking -- and Jimmy shot all over the wall! Holy shit, that was hot! Draper rode this out, slowing a bit while Tenisha worked her way through her cum -- give HIM shit 'bout bein' done, would she? He grinned like a shark. He'd bring her around again, if he could... That wasn't certain; pussy was better than head, even GOOD head. Deep throat was good, and all, but this was what a dick was for, an' you could tell the difference... Draper certainly could; as he brought Tenisha to the point where she was beginning to chase her second cum, he admitted to himself that three wasn't going to be possible, THIS go 'round... Tenisha was in Heaven! Draper had taken charge and ridden her into the ground until she could do nothing BUT cum! Now, as she came down from the flash and the explosion, he was still sliding that big rod of his in her, already driving a second cum... "Ohhh... Ohhh... Ohhh... Oh, Baby..." She offered her lips, and Draper took them, but he couldn't hold the kiss -- he just wasn't a pretzel, and when he got all bent up to kiss her, he couldn't stroke properly... Jimmy watched Draper continue to pound away -- more recreationally, now that he'd jizzed all over the place. He had his jizz rag out, quietly wiping the wall he'd painted with his cum -- couldn't be drawing attention to his peep. Sis' volume level was starting to climb, again... "Oh, Baby... Oh, Baby... Oh, Baby..." Alonzo Porter was grinding his teeth; did she HAVE to do that? Bess rolled over and punched him, sticking her nose in his armpit. "Cut it out -- they ain't hurting anything." "Oh, I guess. But couldn't she learn to make a different noise?" Bess chuckled ruefully. Her daughter's noises while fucking mirrored her own -- and for the very good reason that she'd heard them often enough... Bess Porter liked her sex, and she liked it regular; Alonzo rode her about once a night, at least, and she was NEVER quiet... It had occurred to Bess that Alonzo was some kind of superstud long since; she hoped Draper was, too, for her daughter's sake... "I'll talk to her about it." She reached down to check on Alonzo's meat, finding it half-hard. "Why don't I distract you a bit?" She dove beneath the covers and Alonzo groaned as her lips closed around his cock head... Draper was starting to lose it. He was well up the slope of his own personal roller coaster, and was starting to worry that he'd peak before Tenisha and leave her hanging. As a result, he adopted a more pounding, jarring stroke, gambling that it would be more effective on her while not rushing him along too much. It worked. Tenisha took three of those trip-hammer poundings and her ass came up -- a sure sign that she was in final approach. She started to wiggle and push and lift -- and the noisemaking approached a scream -- then she was clutching him with arms AND legs, which might have made his final ascent impossible if her pussy wasn't going nuts... "Jeezus!!!!" Draper grunted as he added his pushing to her pulling as the pair tried to merge at the crotch, Draper pulsing again and again into Tenisha's spasming pussy. Jimmy had to admit that was pretty fucking neat -- no question both of them got theirs, and white goo was oozing out around Draper's buried meat as they rested there, after. Draper'd sure hosed Sis good... He grinned and closed his peephole; that was enough for tonight... Draper was gonna get up, but Tenisha wouldn't let go... He drifted off waiting for her to. Tenisha let go of consciousness as soon as his first snore broke, secure in the knowledge that he'd be there in the morning. Jimmy was just drifting off when "Oh, Baby!" began sounding again; his eyes popped open, but it was Momma -- no big deal... ------- It was pitch black in the cave and Randall was trying to deal with the strange mixture of sharp objects and soft places under him when a voice whispered, "Randall, can I be on top again?" If he hadn't been in the bag, Randall would have jumped a foot; as it was, he went from stuporous to wide-awake in milliseconds. "Uh, sure... Grab on -- I'll roll the whole mess over..." He managed it, but the bag flopped open where he'd unzipped it during their first frantic race to completion. He reached around, flapping, until her found Darla Jean's bag and drew it atop them again, then reached for the zipper, but a hand forestalled him, "Leave it -- we might need the room." Randall didn't argue; despite a concerted effort at concentration on sleeping bag organization, his hard-on was rampant in the face of full-body contact with a female. Darla Jean's lips settled on his neck and he went diamond hard, caressing her taut body and wishing he could get his hands into position to play with her nipples. But he had her sides, and he had her ass, and damp pubic hair was rubbing the underside of his cock pretty rhythmically... Darla Jean didn't ask -- she just went up on her elbows, and the next thing he felt was her crotch as she set him for penetration by touch. She wiggled a bit, splaying open her inner lips, and announced, "Now!" Randall knew what to do -- he arched himself, driving. "Uuummmm..." Darla Jean husked. She was here, and she had a supply of hot cock; she was GOING to get her fill! She started moving on Randall's erection. But the position wasn't adequate; Darla Jean couldn't get enough motion with her legs stretched out. How she managed what she did next -- get her knees up, inside the bag, WITHOUT losing contact with Randall's erection -- neither of them would ever know, but necessity is the mother of invention... Head tucked, lips working at the junction between Randall's neck and shoulder, breasts pressed against his chest, Darla Jean began posting on Randall's cock, her ass moving rhythmically up and down. Randall had a hand on each ass cheek, guiding and encouraging, but Darla Jean was doing the work, riding him more and more furiously. She was looking for hers, not worrying too much about Randall -- he'd get there. In the meantime, his long, thick, hot rod was doing wonderful things to the inside of her twat, wonderful things that she never wanted to end! She pushed it in until it ground against her clit, then backed it off, feeling the resistance as the crown of his glans dragged along her folds -- it beat the SHIT out of hairbrush handles, stiff, but soft and flexible... It was... Oh! Oh!! OH!! "UUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNGGGGHHHHH!!!!" Darla Jean's orgasm sneaked up on her, and only Randall's steadying hands kept her in the saddle as her nerves misfired, causing her to lose control. Randall used his hands on her hips to keep Darla Jean's ass moving while she shuddered and whined. This night had exceeded all expectation hours ago; having Darla Jean riding his cock again was just miraculous! The sensations were almost intolerable, they were so good, but the previous couple of bouts had granted him some control; he was able to enjoy himself without worrying about whether he was going to blow his load right away. Instead, he merely enjoyed himself as Darla Jean got control and again took off, headed for another orgasm. His experience was too limited to make pronouncements, but Darla Jean seemed to be the perfect receptacle -- hot, oily wet, tight, and moving at just the right rate to make things just incredible... She started telegraphing urgency, so Randall again added his efforts to the mix from below, surging against her and thinking distantly, 'It's a good thing she isn't big... ' Darla Jean went wild again, this time not making much more than a series of urgent, high-pitched whines, but he could tell she was there... She was there all right! Randall's cock seemed to find every itchy spot in her twat and rub it, and the top of her head kept coming off! She ground herself against his hard body, grunting as the shock waves hit yet again, then took a moment before the urgency demanded more movement. The only limit to this seemed to be her endurance -- which was flagging. Originally, she'd wanted on top because Randall sleeping on her had become uncomfortable, but now the idea of him being atop her resumed its appeal... "Randall," she gasped, "you want to drive for a while?" Randall didn't trust himself to say anything; he merely rolled them back to what he considered their original position. The bags were a wreck and cold air was leaking past here and there, but he'd worry about that later... Right now, Darla Jean's knees were up and he was between them in what had turned out to be the sweetest spot he'd ever been, and it was time to go nuts in there... Randall started to pound, and the sensations were different than when she worked herself on him -- they were spikier, bright flashes at every trip-hammer impact. Where she'd built sensations slowly until they poured over the dam, Randall built waves that towered higher and higher... Darla Jean rubbed her surprisingly sinewy lover's arms and shoulders, managing to get out kind of a grunting coo as those waves rapidly built to the point that they were slopping over the dam, galvanizing her with little quick cums that left her disorganized while the next one came rolling at her. If Randall had realized what he was doing to Darla Jean, he'd have gotten a swelled head -- but it was pitch dark, so he couldn't see the vacant stare and dilated nostrils while she stiffened against him, rigid for three or four strokes, then suddenly collapsed for a couple as the breaker popped, washing a wave of current through her for a couple of strokes before she again stiffened. Real sound wasn't possible -- only a high-pitched whine during the clenched periods -- she just didn't have resources for anything more, for instead of taking the long pull to the top of the rollercoaster and riding the insanely euphoric drop, only to have to make the long climb again, she was AT the top, cycling through a series of quick peaks and valleys that followed each other too rapidly to prepare for. She was cycling between the tight clench of the final approach and the explosive release, and not actually ever dropping through to a lower state! Randall experienced this as a cyclical tightening of her pussy, with a pulsing clench and a quick release, followed by another build-up. This was certainly more than he'd ever expected, and different from the first pass... It was a serious milking, too, and it took its toll; Randall had thought that he could probably hold out forever while he was on the bottom, but this... This shredded his control! He managed something on the order of three eternal minutes before the urge became impossible to contain and he shifted to a merciless, shattering pounding that instinct told him would shatter her defenses and fill her womb... That lasted about five strokes, before his cock erupted and he crushed himself to her, trying to push his glans right through her cervix... Darla Jean was left totally senseless; she'd been approaching an orgasm when the jackhammer set off what seemed to be a series of nuclear detonations that caused her to lose all touch with reality. The only thing that penetrated that wash of radiation was the feeling of something splashing against her insides, the beat of Randall's semen on the door to her womb... Neither of them knew when it was that she wrapped long legs around him and locked her ankles -- it was just a fact that when sanity returned to Randall, she had a death grip on him with all four limbs. The sleeping bag was a wreck, and cold air was blasting in and would chill them both, but Darla Jean didn't seem to be all there, moaning "No..." when he gently murmured something about fixing the bag. Randall wasn't running his full mental process, either, but he mused that the last time the bag had been close to arranged properly, he'd been on the bottom, so he again rolled the whole system over, which worked well with Darla Jean clutching him. This closed the worst of the leaks and gave Randall the use of his hands; he managed to get the bag zipped and Darla Jean's bag back atop them -- even finding the blanket and fashioning it into a kind of pillow before collapsing into exhaustion... ------- Saturday dawned grey and wet; spring seemed to be aggressive about the delivery of rain showers. The Astronomy Club was the first group to greet it, as their lair wasn't particularly comfortable. Randall awoke to a rough shake. "Wake up, sleepyheads!" Jimmy laughed, "Time to go down the hill to breakfast!" Randall forced his eyes open; he hurt all over, and he couldn't figure out why the blankets were so heavy until he realized that one of them was a boneless mass of VERY warm flesh... "Darla Jean? Wake up..." Did he call her 'Honey' or something, or was that presumptuous? He gingerly began rubbing her back... Darla Jean had been using his chest as a pillow, lulled by his heartbeat into a deep sleep. Now she surfaced slowly to the feel of hands rubbing her back, which was nice, but... She started. It never had happened in real life! She became aware of a host of aches and pains, some in the weirdest places... Opening one eye, she raised her head to collect a close-up of Randall. "Oh, shit!" Randall's eyebrows went up -- that wasn't exactly, 'Good morning, Lover... ' "What?" "I probably look like a hag." She pushed her hair out of her eyes. "Where are my glasses?" "Here." A grinning Amy proffered them. Darla Jean took them and put them on, then glared at Amy, who was grinning from ear to ear, fully dressed, and showing no signs of withdrawing. Jimmy was there, too... "Hey, I need to dress!" "I don't think it's possible in the bag, frankly..." Jimmy examined his manicure. "We got out and dressed." "While WE were asleep! Get outta here, you two!" Darla Jean ranted, the trap having been made clear. "Uh uh," was Jimmy's answer; Amy just grinned. Randall glared at the pair as best he could from his position, then grunted, "Let me see what I can do..." He started unzipping the bag. Darla Jean grabbed his hand. "What are you doing?" There wasn't a whole lot of trust in her expression. "I'm gonna unzip. You can take your bag and use it as a shield while you dress..." "Hmph. If I can get my bra up here, will you help me get into it?" Randall couldn't help it; the question triggered an urge to glance down at her small breasts, which were pendant; Amy and Jimmy had already seen her pink nipples when she first arose, but Randall's head blocked them now as HE took HIS look. "Uh, okay..." Damn, they were nice -- puffy caps to her breasts, even if they weren't particularly pointy, at the moment... Hey, they were changing... "Randall!" "Uh, sorry." Not that he was, particularly. Darla Jean slid deeper into the bag and began floundering around, collecting undergarments with her feet. His undershorts appeared first, followed by one of her socks. "Hey, are you double-jointed? Some of the moves you..." "Randall!" There was more rustling, and she rasped quietly, "Does that thing EVER go down?" A couple of snickers announced the fact that she hadn't been quiet enough. Randall's response made things worse, "Well, it must have gone down sometime. It was buried..." "Randall!" Pure outrage as the other couple cackled. "Get OUT of here!" The flat glare that accompanied this brooked no argument, and the hecklers withdrew. Darla Jean, digging around lower in the bag, hunched herself to try to get an eye on the underclothing collection -- and Randall's erection. It might be nice to know what a cock that seemed to fit so well actually LOOKED like... Even more or less end-on, it was fairly impressive. "Is it... all the way?" "Um. Mostly, I think. Might get a little harder, during..." "Nice." Darla Jean went back to thrashing her feet, looking for underclothing, but she wrapped a hand around his rigid length, eliciting a moan. "If those two jackals weren't around..." She let go, and Randall groaned again. Damn! Was she as insatiable as he was? The bra came up from the depths. "Can you help me get into this?" It was a front closure type; Randall didn't really see what was so hard, but, hey... Darla Jean raised her arms and he threaded it over them and pulled it down. When it got to the point where it could be clasped, though, Darla Jean left off for a moment. "Go ahead." Randall took a nice, long feel of her pendant breasts, something that gave them both pleasure, then closed the snap, fumbling with the odd catch. "When I find my panties, I can probably move out..." "Darla Jean..." She knew what he wanted, without further words, and his hand exploring her twat would feel SOOO good, but... "If I let you, we'd probably both end up too excited." She nodded at Jimmy and Amy, "Those two ALREADY know 'way too much..." Something kept her from making verbal promises. "Ah." A pair of tiny, bright red panties surfaced, got re- oriented, and disappeared back into the depths. Randall unzipped the bag so she had room to double up. "Thanks." She kissed his cheek, got both legs organized, and sat up, opening the bag but carefully fig-leafing Randall from the others (but not herself) while she collected the rest of the underclothes. In a moment, she had her socks on and was up, wedging herself into her jeans. Randall watched the briefly exposed flesh disappear with a sigh. Oh, well, it was pretty cold in the cave... He turned to his own apparel, getting himself into his undershorts and socks. Darla Jean collected her sleeping bag and began rolling it while Randall finished up, then started re-folding his blanket. Randall began rolling his bag, wondering just exactly what stains he was rolling up in it, but afraid to make a point of looking. He could always air it at home, or send it out to the cleaners... Amy and Jimmy had been packing the other camping gear, and had the place ready to move by the time the other couple was organized. "You guys handle the scope and your bags," Jimmy directed. "I've got the laptop and some of this, and Amy will handle the stove and the lantern. We'll leave the tarp up. It's real wet; we'll drop the gear in the pool house and go up to my house for breakfast." In a few seconds, everyone was arrayed, and the little column moved out into the pouring rain. The trip to the pool house was wet and miserable, but otherwise went without incident. Everyone looked like a drowned rat, since only Jimmy had brought a hat of any kind. Throwing open the door, they surprised a two- headed animal in Danny's bunk that turned out to be Danny and Thelma. "Hey, you two, time for breakfast!" Jimmy chided. "Awright, git out, we're right behind ya," Danny groaned. Thelma, on top, reached down under the covers between them and added, "Maybe..." with a wide grin. "Nope, sorry," Jimmy replied. "We just ruined their sex lives -- can't play favorites! Get up!" He turned and started directing stowage of the equipment, leaving Thelma sighing resignation and Danny grumbling. Somehow, they managed to get out of bed without totally exposing themselves, Thelma pattering off to the bathroom in a robe while Danny dressed at the bed. Jimmy called ahead, and they made the trek up to the house to where Jimmy's mother Melanie was preparing breakfast. ------- Nate Adams awakened on top of the world, in a bed a whole lot more supportive and soft than the one at home, cuddled up with his cock wedged between the cheeks of Nora's plush ass. If there was anything better than waking up with an arm around his woman, he didn't know what it could be! Nora had wanted more when they got upstairs, and Nate, the edge recently taken off by her fine blowjob, had the kind of control he needed to do a good job on her. They'd gone FOREVER -- well, at least twenty minutes -- Nate pounding away metronomically at her with her knees over his shoulders, bringing her to cum after cum. It wasn't until he was already pouring spunk into her that either of them remembered rubbers; Nate hoped fervently that the Pill was working... But, hey, if she was gonna have kids, it was just one more hold he'd have on her. Jeezus, he hoped she wouldn't wake up some bright morning wondering what the fuck she was doing with the likes of HIM... The clock said nine-thirty, and there were noises and smells drifting up the stairs. Nora's Mama was cooking, again. Nate's Mama couldn't even use a microwave without someone to watch her, it seemed like; real food was out... "Hey, Baby, I'm smellin' breakfast..." "Mmmm? Okay..." Nora turned to face him and opened her lips, and Nate collected them and her right breast. Talk about lucky... LAST Saturday, his earliest comment to a suggestion that she might be of interest had been something to the effect that she wasn't much to look at -- and he was sure fuckin' glad she hadn't heard it! Nora was different from other girls in a couple of ways that counted: She was sweet, and she WASN'T a prick tease! Okay, maybe she wasn't Britney Spears, or Pamela Anderson, but then THEY didn't have Nora's ass! Nate was an ass man, and Nora's was oversized a bit; it was a match made in Heaven. That was the most visible of Nora's charms, to Nate -- to others, her sizeable posterior was a drawback -- but it eclipsed a nice pair of round breasts... Most people would only see that surface -- the ass, which was normally a problem, the breasts, the rather plain face and somewhat thin, mouse-brown hair. That meant they'd miss the inside stuff -- the guts that led her to put herself out there for Nate, letting him know at the outset that if he behaved himself he could expect to get laid in the near future, for instance. No girl had EVER said anything like that to Nate; the usual female response to his 'rap' was a variant on "Ewwwwww!" and a hasty withdrawal. Nora had told him at the outset that if he could keep his tongue under control (his 'rap' wasn't the polished tool he thought it was; he tended to insult his target), that a closer approach was in the offing. With a firm carrot dangling before him, Nate shut up -- and Nora delivered! Jeezus, HOW she'd delivered! In Nate's mind, the whole thing had started with, "You like ass? You like white bitches? Why don't you take a shot at the Wilson chick?" Something like that -- he didn't remember exactly. Usual male ego shit... The fact that the encounter lasted more than five minutes had been surprising in and of itself; Nate was usually banished in about ten seconds. Funny, he didn't remember exactly what HE said, but he remembered CLEARLY what SHE said: "Nate, Honey, if you want to feel that ass without a lot of cloth covering it, you'll shut up now, before you say something that makes me unhappy." Shit suddenly got VERY different for Nate when she said that -- like, doors opened... He hadn't run his rap on ANYBODY since... Later that night, Nora had given him his first piece of ass -- AND her cherry! That was... fucking incredible... Nate finished this thought process with Nora's head on his shoulder, the kiss -- and a couple more like it -- having interrupted it in places. But then his stomach growled... Nora giggled. "Let's go see what's cooking!" She sat up and snatched a thoroughly flimsy robe; Nate dragged himself into his underwear and his jeans, wondering vaguely if he ought to give up on the baggy shit -- it was hard for somebody built like him to keep the shit up... His shirt was a mess; somehow it had gotten mixed up in the juices from their lovemaking. "Leave it off," Nora said, smiling. "Then I can look at your chest..." The pair started for the stair, but Nate waved it off, petitioning for a delay with, "I gotta pee!" Nora giggled and waited for him, sticking her head in the door to watch once the sound said he'd started. Funny how different his cock was when he was doing that; it wasn't the stiff lance that he applied to her during sex, by any means, although it wasn't THAT small. She'd heard that some guys shrink to something tiny... Nate suffered this with nothing more than a bit of exasperation; it was a little embarrassing having Nora watch him pee, but having her eye his cock was also likely to cause it to stiffen, which would interfere with what he was doing, so he concentrated on the effort. "Okay, so, it ain't hard ALL the time..." Nora just giggled. Nate made sure he did the sanitary thing, washing his hands afterward -- something guys sometimes passed on. Girls probably didn't do it all the time, either, he figured, but it set the right tone and kept him from looking like a barbarian. The things you had to start worrying about when you were trying to keep a woman... Finished, he dried his hands on a towel that looked like it was there for display purposes only (what was THAT all about?) and joined Nora for the trip down the stairs. "Is that bacon I smell?" Nora opened the conversation as she passed through the kitchen door. Sharon looked up and stopped dead for a moment; Nate was behind her daughter, looking a touch uneasy -- apparently, he'd stayed the night... Sharon found herself to be embarrassed; her robe was only a bit less revealing than her daughter's translucent item, the fabric being a bit more opaque. This was their 'just us girls' setup, modesty less of an issue than comfort. Thank God she was wearing panties... Nora wasn't. Oh, well, obviously, they'd slept together... "Yes. Will you watch it for a moment? Good morning, Nate." "Morning, Ma'am." What the fuck DID you call your girlfriend's mother? Especially when you caught her wearin' not a whole helluva lot? Nora took the fork from her mother, and she swept out, headed for her bedroom. When she returned, her attire was a good deal more modest -- a floor-length quilted robe. Nate felt kind of bad about it, but didn't know what to say... "Uh, sorry." "It's all right, Nate," Sharon passed it off. "You surprised me, that's all." If anyone was at fault, it was Nora, and a glance at her told Sharon she knew it. Sharon took over the bacon, adding a couple more strips to handle the extra mouth she was feeding. "How do you like your eggs?" "Uuuh..." Nate got eggs for breakfast once in a blue moon; was it okay to ask for something extra? "Any old way, I guess. Ummm, runny? Sunny-side up, I think they call it?" Sharon nodded. "I don't promise not to break the yolks..." "Don' worry 'bout it. It'll be the first thing I do..." "Toast?" Sharon passed this task to Nora with her eyes. Nora took the hint and busied herself with bread. Sharon found some satisfaction in that; if Nora was going to be entertaining men, she needed to deal with the domestic issues involved. Nate had been here how many times in the last week? Five? Six? He obviously couldn't afford a maid; if things continued in the direction they were headed, Nora might discover how REALLY poor folks lived... Paradoxically, Sharon didn't see Nate remaining poor -- there was something about the boy... Cracking eggs into the skillet went on automatically while Sharon's mind drifted. Nate stood there wondering what he should be doing for a bit, then went over to Nora, who was fishing some barely singed bread from the toaster. "Shit, that ain't toast. Make sure mine's brown..." Nora eyed him, but his hand was on her back, rubbing, taking the sting from the remark. She glanced at her mother, to find her regarding her with a smirk and dancing eyes. "How dark do you want it?" she asked archly. "Somewhere between this," he tapped her forearm where it lay on the counter, then put his up beside it, "and this," pointing at his own. In the meantime, the maneuver had wrapped his arms around her; he proceeded to nibble at her neck. "That dark?" Nora played up, pointing at his arm. "Isn't that black?" "It's real dark brown," Nate opined (it WAS pretty dark), "... but you don' have to go THAT dark..." "Oh, okay, if you insist..." "Something golden brown," Nate continued, then leaned in to whisper, "... like our kids will be..." Nora gasped and eyed him. "Omigod! You're SOOO fresh!" But she was smiling, and Nate smiled back. Sharon watched them play, wondering vaguely what Nate had said to provoke the reaction; certainly, it couldn't have been too shocking... Nate pretended that Nora was incapable of operating mechanical devices, and Nora played up while they attacked the coffee pot and managed to make some halfway decent toast. "Here, Nate, take these," she directed as she slid the first pair of eggs onto a plate. Nate collected them and took them to the table while she cracked another pair. Nora's she fried hard; hers were also over easy. "Sit, sit!" she directed when Nora's were done, "They'll get cold!" The younger generation settled into chairs, but Nate just picked at things until she turned from the stove with her plate. ------- Silence reigned while the trio got started, but the young couple began passing this cue and that back and forth, just bits and pieces of conversation, while Sharon ate pensively. Finally, Nora observed, "You're awful quiet, Mom..." "Oh! Sorry. Trying to prepare myself; your father invited me to lunch... at his place." "Really? So I guess his grand plan is moving forward..." "Grand plan? You know what he's up to?" Sharon asked. "Uhh, no. I just figured Daddy has something in mind..." Sharon saw right through this flimsy cover-up. Nora knew something! Just as patently, whatever it was, Nora couldn't tell her! Sharon weighed the situation. What kept her quiet? Fear? No, honor; Armand must have asked her to promise to maintain her silence. Damn! She couldn't push her way through that! Sharon sighed, and returned to picking at her eggs. This precipitated a rush to finish; Nora wanted away from the table. She knew her mother had seen through her, and didn't want to get embroiled in what was to come. Nate took his cue from Nora, inhaling his eggs, sopping up the yolks with his toast. "We're going to run upstairs for a bit," Nora announced. "Thanks for breakfast!" Sharon nodded and let the pair escape; she had enough to worry about. Upstairs, Nate reluctantly collected his things and made for the door. "I'll call you later..." "Okay." They kissed at the door, and Nate dragged himself out. Not having pussy used to suck; leaving your woman and going home to nothing was almost worse... ------- "Mary, Luv, do you want to go sh -- Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" Irma Nally discovered her daughter in bed with Teddy Frick for the second time in less than a week, and was disinclined to be calm about it. "I thought we talked about this?" Mary sighed. They were SUPPOSED to have awakened early, and the boys were SUPPOSED to be long gone -- but then Mom wasn't SUPPOSED to come barging in... The grey nature of the day had made it fine sleeping weather, and the three of them had misjudged things... "Yes, Mom, you expressed your opinion -- which has changed, for some reason, I might add..." "That was before I discovered you making like a SLUT with TWO BOYS! And now this is the second time this week I find you in bed with Teddy!" Irma ranted. "Oh, so it's okay when I'm doing without, but not okay when it works?" Mary retorted sarcastically. Teddy tried to get out of bed, but Mary held his arm under the sheet. She was surprisingly strong; Teddy struggled for a moment, then made the best of it, cuddling up. "Have you settled on just one?" Irma sneered. "When are you sleeping with that black boy again?" "Any minute! Teddy's just warming me up!" Mary replied hotly. Stick, now wide awake, but hidden by the back of the couch he was sleeping on, held himself very still. "OOOOO! Wait 'til your father hears this!" Irma stomped out. Arthur Nally braced himself as his ponderous wife thudded down the stairs. She and their daughter seldom engaged in screaming matches, so he was no doubt about to be put in the middle of a big blow... He pretended to continue to read his paper, knowing that it would last only seconds. "She's sleeping with that Frick boy again! That's the second time this week! The house is turning into a brothel!" Irma raved. Arthur eyed her over his paper. "This all started years ago, Irma, and when I objected, YOU said she needed a leg up and it wouldn't hurt anything!" "I keep finding her with BOTH legs up!" Irma ranted, "It's gone beyond a little simple advertising -- she's being a slut! And that black boy..." "Has he been back? What's wrong with him, anyway?" "W-well!" Irma blustered, "He's black!" "That makes him inferior in some way?" Arthur remonstrated mildly, "We're not exactly sterling examples of the peak of the gene pool..." He eyed Irma critically. Mary got her size from Irma, among other things. Arthur was slight, balding, and slightly myopic -- but Mary had apparently collected his intellect, rather than his physical shortcomings. "I'm surprised at you! I never thought you were a bigot..." "Oh, come on!" Irma sneered. "There could only be two reasons for him to be interested in Mary -- sex and money!" "What money?" Arthur retorted. "We're not rich..." "Well..." Irma regrouped. "You want little brown, kinky-haired grandchildren? Probably born out of wedlock?" "Been watching Jerry Springer again? I thought Mary was on the Pill?" Arthur retorted. "Besides, they're exotic -- and kind of cute!" "Arthur!" Irma screeched, scandalized. Frankly, she was amazed that he was arguing at all, given his original position; besides, SHE generally won arguments around here... "You go up there and have a talk with your daughter!" "Fine!" Arthur tossed the paper on the table. "But it won't be the talk YOU would have had! YOUR position is water under the bridge!" He picked up his coffee cup and stalked off, leaving his portly wife sputtering. Teddy was piling into his clothes, and Stick was sitting up in his undershorts, dragging on his socks. "How bad is this?" Stick queried. "I dunno," Mary replied. "If she sends Pop up to talk to me, I don't know which way it'll go. Maybe I'll get grounded, and maybe Pop will tell Mom to go piss up a rope. Mom hasn't been giving Pop a lot of attention lately, and he's starting to get prickly. Pop's not terribly assertive," Mary glanced quickly at Teddy, "unless he's being neglected, if you know what I mean. One day he'll get a decent secretary, and Mom will be in deep shit..." Stick chuckled. Teddy was already pacing back and forth, but Stick was half into his T-shirt when Arthur walked in. "I see that you mother isn't too observant," he observed. Stick's surprised face popped through the neck hole of his shirt, and Arthur continued, "Among her other failings..." "Now, Pop..." Mary moved to intervene. But Arthur wasn't going anywhere. "Let's not start this on that tone. Sit down, boys. Teddy, isn't it? And I didn't get your name -- Irma is busy being a bigot." Arthur addressed Stick. Teddy plopped on the bed, nervous; Stick moved to sit there, too, carrying his shoes. "Stick, Sir." Mary settled herself between them to put up a united front, making them scoot a bit. "Um." Arthur examined the trio. "When I was growing up, boys as diverse in appearance as you two had little or nothing in common, let alone a girlfriend. I'm betting that there is more to this than meets the eye..." Teddy blanched. Arthur remembered being present during a couple of discussions of Teddy between Mary and her mother, and began adding two and two... Turning to Teddy, he asked, "You're having sex with Mary?" Teddy nodded; if anything, it was eagerly -- yeah, he was hiding something... "You, too?" he asked Stick. "Yeh." Stick's response was a lot more guarded. Arthur wasn't surprised. The black boy was used to playing his cards close to the chest, he imagined. "So, you're sharing?" Both boys nodded, warily. Arthur turned his attention on Mary. "What about you? Are you sharing, too?" "What?" Mary was instantly wary -- there was something here... "I'm asking how much of Teddy's attention you're getting -- and how much he's giving Stick. I'm not stupid..." Mary turned startled eyes on Stick. "Uhhhh..." The jig was up. Stick made the reply, "It's 'bout fifty-fifty right now -- we're still tryin' to figure out if any of us got any fuckin' sense..." Arthur nodded and snatched a kitchen chair to sit in facing the group. "How long has this been going on?" "Since the Prom, Pop. We got together Prom Night," Mary replied. Arthur sipped his coffee. "Seems like an adventure. Either of you boys seeing anyone else? Male or female?" "Nossir." Stick's eyes were steady. Teddy, on the other hand, was about to have a nervous breakdown, "I- I..." Arthur picked up Mary with his eyes, and she turned to the less prepossessing of her two lovers and pulled him into an embrace, "Shhhhh..." Stick surprised everyone by getting up and coming around to Teddy's other side and rubbing his back. "Take it easy, Stud. If the shit was deep, we'd be done for already." Turning his attention to Mary's Poppa, he grunted, "Ted needs a lotta support -- water's pretty deep where we're swimmin'." Arthur sipped his coffee, waiting a bit, then, "I'd still like an answer..." Teddy's eyes were still wide with fear, but he got out, "J-just them..." "So it's been a week." Three nods. "How many times?" Stick was the spokesman. "Twice, all three of us. Once apiece alone with jus' Mary. We're tryin' to figure out what makes sense, an' what don't." "And just you boys?" Arthur prompted. " 'Cept for the blowjob that started it, we only get together here." Arthur's coffee cup was empty. This was the damnedest thing... He raised it. "Mary, I need more coffee." "Yes, Pop." Mary moved at a dead run, snatching the cup and heading for the door. "Mary!" "Pop?" "Avoid your mother, if at all possible. She's probably off fuming somewhere. And she doesn't know Stick is here." "Yes, Pop." Mary hit the door. Arthur sat back, apparently relaxed. "So what happened?" Stick eyed Teddy. Nope, he wasn't going to get a word out. "Ted was doin' gloryhole duty at the Prom. It was my first time, but it was good shit, and I didn't have a woman, so I got ideas -- but Ted was quick and I missed figurin' out who he was. But Mary didn't -- she put two an' two together an' blackmailed Ted inta bringin' us both back here. Then she outed him, but only AFTER she let me know she had ME by the balls. Then she made us a deal: We could try out male shit -- here, safe -- but we had ta fuck her, too. Turned out that wasn't exactly a fate worse'n death..." He blinked. "Mebbe I coulda said that better..." Arthur chuckled. "Maybe, but I get the point. So, where are things now?" Stick shrugged. "Dunno. I kinda figured things would shake out by now, but they haven't, really. Mary hasn't picked one of us yet. If I hadta pick, I'd go with Mary," he shot an apologetic glance at Teddy, "but I feel like I'd be missin' somethin', so I'm holdin' off... If I don't hafta choose, I don't wanna." "Teddy?" "It's... harder for me. Mary... gives me things I need -- but I don't think I can totally close off the... other thing." Arthur steepled his fingers. "It's tough, and sometimes life doesn't allow you to do things tidily. When I was your age, I had a couple of run-ins. I chose to call it recreational sex; the guy I was with called it a relationship, and got hurt. It's not all that unusual; more well- adjusted boys can stumble into it, usually around twelve or thirteen -- they experiment, and move on. But Teddy's a loner, and you, Stick, have to hang with your group, so you both missed the early phase. There was a time when you HAD to make a choice -- and wouldn't REALLY have had one. The pair of you would have fought over Mary and the loser would have had to go elsewhere, but both of you would have remained carefully in the closet. And it would have been a tough call, too -- Stick's naturally more aggressive, but his race and social pressures would have nullified that." Arthur sat back. "Nowadays, however, I don't think you have to MAKE a choice; each of you can choose either of your current partners, or you can let the choice be made for you by events. There is even the possibility that things will work the way they are, long term. The question you have to ask yourself is 'is this recreational sex, or a relationship?' That's what I want to know, for my daughter..." When Mary got back to the head of the stairs, things in her room were quiet; both of her boyfriends were quiet, pensive, and her father was watching them blandly. What had gone on while she acted like a big chicken, getting coffee? Her father took the cup and sipped distractedly. Stick looked up. "I... dunno. Could go either way, with both of 'em. But..." He glanced at Teddy. Arthur put up a hand. "Before you say anything more, consider this: I just watched you go to Teddy to provide him support when he was scared..." Stick shut up, and showed signs of thinking furiously. Arthur turned his attention to Teddy. Teddy rubbed his face. "I'm... on the edge. Both ways." Arthur nodded. From the visible signs of injury that he had displayed at some of Stick's remarks, Teddy was probably OVER the edge -- maybe both ways... Mary was obviously trying to understand what was going on, out of context. "I'm asking the usual question regarding honorable intentions, complicated by the additional dimension that your relationship sports." "Ummm." Pop always DID use big words. Still, she got the gist... "What about you, Mary? Is this more serious, one way or the other?" "Uhhhh... Jeez, Pop, it's HARD! It's apples and oranges! They're DIFFERENT -- different in their personalities, how we deal with one another -- even physically..." Arthur glanced at the boys, "Well, yes..." Stick was taller, rangier, and undoubtedly more powerful... "Not just that, Pop -- where it counts..." "Ah." Was there truth to the black superman legends? "They're both... satisfactory?" "Oh, yes! But they're VERY different! Stick is long, and Teddy is... thick..." Mary blushed. "I see..." Might be an interesting comparison; Arthur had always sort of assumed that within certain variations, a cock was a cock... "Teddy, well, needs support, and I like giving it. But Stick's a leader, and sometimes I like to be led..." "So, it's been a few days, and there's no decision in sight for anyone... I don't suppose it has occurred to you that the situation might be reasonably stable as it is?" "Well, yeh," Stick agreed warily. "I been kinda lookin' inta that..." Arthur nodded. "Fine. I'll be going; neither of you boys need feel that you have to go anywhere -- make Mary fix you breakfast, or whatever." He turned at the door. "Watch out or she'll HAVE you for breakfast..." He closed the door quietly behind him. The boys shared a glance; Teddy was still seriously freaked, but Stick had his sea legs. Mary sat down again on Teddy's left and wrapped an arm around him, but she addressed Stick, "You owe me one." Stick grinned, "Can't have that! Let's eat somethin' an' then see what we can do about it when everybody's calmed down?" He rubbed Teddy's back. ------- "Well?" Irma demanded as Arthur re-seated himself at the breakfast table. "You're not too observant," Arthur replied. "The black boy was sleeping on the couch." "What?" "I talked to them, and told the boys they shouldn't feel obligated to leave..." "YOU DID WHAT?" Arthur eyed his wife stonily, "There's something unique brewing up there, and you're not going to disturb it. It isn't just about Mary -- there's a system to it. I'm convinced that no one is seriously out to take advantage of anyone else; therefore, since you more or less facilitated this situation, you'll deal with it." "But... Two?" Irma was nonplussed and the fact that Arthur was being VERY definite about the situation was a big part of it. "Teddy... isn't certain of his sexual orientation." "You could have fooled me!" Arthur grinned. "Well, it appears that regular sex DOES work, and he DOES enjoy it. In addition, Mary provides him... support..." He and his wife shared a significant glance. "The black boy's position is much more clear, sexually, but he has reason to not be homophobic. And he provides Mary with support..." "So the boys are... And they're both..." Arthur capped both questions with nods. "Ewwwww, that's..." "Watch it!" Arthur cautioned. "It's perverted!" Irma ranted. Arthur's voice was frigid, "It's your daughter's relationship with them, and it quite possibly could become permanent. In the meantime, Mary is getting serious attention from both of them that goes beyond sex. And THAT, I remind you, was the purpose of the exercise!" He mused a moment, sipping his coffee. "The grandkids could well be a mix..." Irma, full of indignation, hove herself into the air. "I'm putting a stop to this, RIGHT NOW!" But Arthur was on his feet first. "YOU WILL SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP!" Irma stopped dead; her expression wouldn't have been any different if he'd hit her with a baseball bat! "Wh-what?" "You heard me..." Arthur's voice held an ominous quality that Irma had seldom heard. "I let you run things around here because you're generally good at it -- but you're being a pig-headed, bigoted bitch about this and I won't have you hurt our daughter by ruining a perfectly good relationship to please your sense of propriety. Do you understand?" "You LET me..." Irma sneered. "Who pays the bills?" "I DO!" "But with whose money? Just because you write the checks that make it pour out for whatever you damned well please doesn't mean you bring any IN!" This fine bit of deflection moved the fight to ground that Irma couldn't hold, which lost her the rest of the battle by default. The pair went at it, hammer and tongs, for a good twenty minutes before Irma withdrew from the fray, defeated, shocked that Arthur could do such a fine job of slipping the leash and biting back. It had been a long time... ------- Draper Travis found himself seated uncomfortably at the Porter's breakfast table. Tenisha was radiant; her father was less than thrilled. But her mother insisted upon blithely pretending that it was a normal occurrence, and her little brother was a distraction... "Man, you pretty big! You do any sports?" "Uh, no..." "I bet you're into wrestling! Sis is..." Jimmy grinned evilly. "Jimmy!" Tenisha took a swing at him. Jimmy ducked and affected innocence. "What?" "Cut it out, Smartass, or I'll ground you!" Bess warned. Jimmy subsided -- the shot had gotten the reaction he was looking for, anyway. Now a couple of words any time would widen the gap in his sister's defenses. He could tease her forever with this... "More coffee?" Bess asked. "Thanks." Draper was trying to keep a low profile, since 'Nisha's Papa just sat there, looking irritated. "I probly oughta go..." "Nonsense! Sit! Eat! Enjoy yourself!" "Damage is already done, anyway," Alonzo mumbled under his breath. "What was that?" Bess turned on her husband. "Nothing." Draper didn't make it out, but he didn't have to. He hung in, increasingly antsy, for another twenty minutes before Tenisha gave up and let him leave. Then she turned on her father, "You leave Draper alone!" "I didn't do nothing! He's the one..." Alonzo shut up; Jimmy was sitting there. But Jimmy knew, anyway... "Swapping spit with Sis? Sucking out her tonsils? Checking her bra size?" "JIMMY!" Bess and her daughter erupted in concert. But Jimmy would not be put down quite yet... "Wrestling?" He wriggled his eyebrows. "How many falls did you go last night, Sis?" At this point, Tenisha was out of her chair, and Jimmy ran for his room, cackling gaily. "Boy's got a point," Alonzo grumbled. "Why do I have to stand still for this shit when he's..." "What?" Tenisha interjected. "Having his way with me? It's MY way, more like it! It's not like he's tying me to the bed!" "It ain't right! Under MY roof..." Alonzo ranted. "Oh, FINE!" Tenisha rolled her eyes. "We'll go to HIS house, so his brothers can all watch and make comments! Is THAT what you want?" "Shit." Alonzo grunted. "Awright. You got any grip on him, or is this just for fun?" "DADDY!" " 'Lonzo!" Bess added her outrage to her daughter's. "Awright, awright!" Alonzo snatched up his coffee cup and left the table. Women! Talk like virgins and act like sluts... Alonzo guessed it was better than the other way around. ------- Chapter 20: Sharon Visits Armand at Home Jorge rang the bell at eleven-thirty on the dot. Sharon let him hand her into the limo and settled back to shake as the car moved smoothly through the traffic. What was Armand up to? Nora seemed to think he had some master plan -- no doubt with some reason, although she apparently wasn't at liberty to share... Sharon had NO idea, but things had been escalating steadily since the previous weekend, so there was no telling... Nora's introduction to sex had somehow upset the equilibrium they had maintained since the divorce; now Armand seemed to feel it was time to change all of the rules they lived by, for reasons known only to him... The house was... imposing. Sharon recognized it as a place she'd seen peripherally on a number of occasions during fundraising visits in this neighborhood. Armand had probably gotten a chuckle out of being so close by, but undetected. As for Sharon, she didn't NEED to find Armand -- he always managed to find HER, so the situation had never come up. She'd assumed that he lived in a high-rise in the city, and left it at that. Now she realized that a number of things that she'd taken for granted or ignored might come back to bite her. For one thing, Armand lived a LOT closer than she'd ever assumed, and she wasn't sure what that meant exactly, but it certainly promoted a sense of unease... A spare black woman in an only mildly abbreviated grey maid's frock greeted her at the door and took her wrap, then led her to what was undoubtedly Armand's study. It was nice -- wood, bookcases, heavy furniture, lamps working to dispel the gloom of a rainy day through the windows... Armand turned to the woman as she seated Sharon in a leather chair opposite him and announced, "Tell Velma she may serve." He was finishing up an abstract of the previous night's activities at the distaff Wilson residence, so he looked up at his ex-spouse, "What do you think of young Mr. Adams?" "He's okay, I guess. I'm not sure my opinion is really relevant," Sharon replied. "I gather that he stayed the night last night." "Mmmm, yes. I wasn't consulted, and was somewhat surprised, but at this point, I can't see where it makes anything any worse..." Obviously, Armand's spies had been busy... "True. I merely wanted a second opinion. Mr. Adams doesn't have much in the way of a home, and I'd prefer that Nora be comfortable when she enjoys her lover, so they're undoubtedly better off... And the state of their relationship?" Sharon fiddled with her fingers. Armand was being reasonably low- key, understated. It was unusual; normally, he had a bone to pick or something visibly up his sleeve... "About the same, I guess. It appears to be serious." Armand shrugged. "They might be, or they might just think they are. At this point, it makes no difference -- it's valuable experience either way." Sharon was rather amazed at that announcement, but she held her peace. The maid appeared at the door and announced, "Lunch is served, Sir." Armand rose and waved Sharon before him; Sharon gingerly followed the maid to the dining room, where she was seated before a nice bit of broiled tilapia and asparagus with Hollandaise sauce. "Would you like tea, or something alcoholic?" Armand asked. "Such as?" Tea was a staple, but Sharon thought some fortification might yet be necessary. "A white wine -- perhaps a pinot grigio?" "That would be fine." Armand nodded at the maid, "Have Inez open a bottle." The woman nodded and left. "You're waiting for something," he observed. "I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop," Sharon replied. "And I'm waiting to see some of the things I'm told occur here." "Ah." Armand steepled his fingers. "I'm sure Nora didn't exaggerate, but I didn't see any reason to make you too uncomfortable. On the other hand, there is no reason to paper over what has become normal activity..." He hit an intercom button. "Jason, would you join us?" A wall speaker emitted, "Sir," and in a moment Jason arrived, carrying a plate, obviously from the kitchen. Sharon and Jason were not strangers, but seldom ran in the same circles; Jason was usually the last person out of Armand's office before he put her through her paces. Occasionally, but not often, he'd been present; Sharon had no idea why he was now. From Armand's standpoint, there were two reasons: One was logistical, and the other... Inez arrived with the wine, picked up Jason with her eyes, stopped, placed the tray on the sideboard, dumped her blouse, and recovered the wine to present to Armand, blushing furiously. Sharon found that she was somewhat prepared for this -- after all, Nora had mentioned it. Armand's eyes reflected his amusement, and Jason showed his teeth in that death's head grin of his. Armand approved the wine as if nothing untoward was occurring and Inez poured. "Better?" he asked. "I don't know about that," Sharon replied, "but it's somewhat similar to the display that you made for our daughter..." Armand grunted. "Things are somewhat in flux. I'll explain in a moment." Turning to Jason, he directed, "Summon the Wench. Inez, you may remain." Returning his attention to Sharon, he asked, "How much of the internal political situation did Nora relate to you?" "I heard about this one," Sharon nodded at Inez. "Something about an affair..." "I'm not sure that's fair to the participants," Armand replied. "Inez's husband was a sort of batman around here, performing certain duties as a butler and occasionally handling outside projects requiring, er, a forceful personality. However, his competence at his inside duties wasn't what it should have been; he was a rather blunt tool, without finer sensibilities. I put up with him for quite some time, but he failed to be adequately sensitive to my needs on a number of occasions before the most recent incident." "The servants answer to Jason, in the main, though, and he was displeased regularly. When direct efforts to corral Raoul failed, he attempted to motivate Inez to assist in correcting his behavior, using methods that you would be somewhat familiar with." Sharon spared Inez a glance. Inez was taking this well -- it was the most charitable portrayal of the conditions leading to her current situation that Lord Armand had ever uttered in her presence. "I see." "Inez is of rather fatalistic temperament; it soon became apparent that she considered the upside of Jason's visits to be worth the downside, and the pair drifted into a situation that Jason never envisioned, I'm sure..." Armand eyed Jason -- being probably the only person on earth who could tell that he was fuming at this revelation -- and smiled minimally. "In any case, abusing Inez failed to bring Raoul to heel despite what I consider to be a serious attempt on her part to make it work. This week, we moved on to using his daughter Bianca as a foil, treating her as a servant to the lowest of mine..." "Does this involve sex?" Sharon asked, her expression less than pleased. "No. Not directly, anyway. Although attending the Wench exposes one to more than one's fair share... Still, Bianca's a minor, and not an employee -- we went MORE than far enough..." Armand eyed his ex grimly. "Lusting after adolescents and younger is NOT among my failings, and neither is any taint of incest. I prefer my victims to be of legal age to choose to make a fool of themselves without coercion." He sat back. "In any case, somewhere during the fallout from that action, Raoul suddenly became convinced that Inez was an adulteress, and things rapidly escalated to beyond the point of tolerance. Obviously, the issue had several facets; Jason's actions were somewhat consistent with methods that had worked for him before, but the results weren't. The fact that the whole thing drifted over the line into recreation without some kind of notice, well, wasn't wise. Inez was justifying the whole thing as a valiant effort to support her family, but there was a quality of self-deception to THAT, too. Last but not least, Raoul's misdemeanors more or less set up the situation, and his other lacks allowed it to continue." "You were aware of this?" Sharon asked. "Yes. Not at inception, but soon after. To an extent, I'm to blame for allowing it to continue after I discovered it, but considering that fact that household efficiency actually went up, I decided to overlook it. Unfortunately, the situation was inherently unstable..." "Um. So, what happened?" "Raoul was done, anyway, so I sent him to a branch office. But he was a wronged party, so I will support his filing for divorce, which Inez will not contend..." Armand's eyes shifted to Inez's, which dropped. "Inez now has the issue of her own and her daughter's support, and therefore works for me -- with all of the attendant vicissitudes, since I am not your average employer. Given her religion, the divorce is a serious punishment, but it isn't adequate, so I have given her to Jason as a slave." "And she's agreed to this?" Armand nodded. "Temperamentally, you and she have much in common..." He allowed himself a slight smile. Sharon grimaced and glanced at Inez, who wouldn't hold her eyes, but nodded. "Jason..." Sharon began. "Yes, Jason." Armand sounded almost jovial. "Jason precipitated a situation with serious, long-term effects, and on the surface of things, it appears that things are going all his way..." "They're not?" "No. You see, Inez, is pregnant... and devoutly Catholic." "Oh, my!" Sharon's gaze shifted to the majordomo, who looked distinctly uncomfortable for the first time in her experience. "Yes," Armand continued, "I have forbidden him to interfere with the pregnancy. He will experience fatherhood, a nice, long-term implication of his little peccadillo. Who knows? Perhaps, in the process, Inez will domesticate him somewhat?" This little dig had Jason on the edge of his seat, visibly tense, gnashing his teeth; Sharon was amazed. "Of course, he continues to punish her daily for her idiocy over birth control by whatever means comes to hand -- you for instance. Inez is easily embarrassed, so..." He waved at the heavy Mexican woman's exposure. "I see. This DOES appear to be a bit complicated..." Sharon was acutely aware that Armand could be diabolical, but she'd assumed that the scope was somewhat limited. "Um, back to something you said... Household efficiency went up?" Watching Jason out of the corner of his eye, Armand addressed the question, "Jason and I are very similar in our methods of dealing with things, although Jason tends to be more direct. This fosters a certain extremism in his disciplinary efforts among the staff. Since his exposure to Inez, she has acted as a buffer, absorbing some of Jason's excess energy..." Jason couldn't even see -- the world before him existed in shades of red. The hand holding his fork had begun to bend it; he was absolutely enraged, humiliated beyond his ability to cope with the situation. Armand took note of the signs and said mildly, "Inez, I believe that you should offer some type of service to your Master..." Inez was scared to death! Master had NEVER EVER looked this angry, and he excelled at it! Fearfully, she minced to a position before Jason. "Jason," Armand admonished, "Control!" Jason carefully put down his fork. "Come here, Bitch. Kneel." Inez did so. "Now, do what you do so well -- drain my balls..." Sharon might as well not have been there. Armand was, but he was the cause of the situation, anyway, and could care less... Inez began working at his belt. The woman in the room meant nothing to her beside the necessity to cool Master's anger, even though she hadn't directly fueled it. Where she would normally be embarrassed by Sharon's presence, she just couldn't afford to let it bother her... Jason started running his hands through her hair; he was pulling it, but she knew better than to complain; instead, she bore the hauling and tugging stoically while working steadfastly to extract her Master's suddenly rampant erection. When his fly was open and his belt loose, she started tugging, and Jason used his grip on her hair to raise himself from the chair. Again, she suffered it, eyes watering while she fought his trousers past his knees. Finally, she succeeded, and he settled back onto the chair; that he would use his grip to jam his whole cock down her throat without preparation was a given... "Armand..." Sharon's embarrassment was pretty serious. Jason wasn't allowing the poor woman much in the way of air, either. Armand shook his head fractionally. "As you can see, Inez has a few behavioral patterns in common with you, My Dear." He watched for a few moments, then admonished, "Jason..." "She's fine," Jason grunted. Inez really wasn't capable of speech; Armand's warning was to remind Jason that she needed to breathe occasionally. Armand and Sharon watched for a moment more, then Armand cleared his throat. "If you'll excuse us for a moment?" He held a hand out to Sharon and led her out into the hall, crossed it, and entered another room and closed the door. "We'll need to go back, and remain in the vicinity. I triggered this, and it will be instructive to Jason in the future, but for now, our presence keeps him from anything excessive. Do you understand?" Sharon nodded, wide-eyed. "Then we'd best go back. Pretend you're being entertained, even if you're not..." He opened the door and led her back into the dining room. In their absence, Jason had abandoned the blowjob. He'd had Inez stand, ripped the waistband buttons and snaps out of her skirt so it puddled at her feet, and bent her over the table. As Armand and Sharon entered, he began working his cock, dry, into Inez's protesting asshole. When she began to whine, he delivered a numbing slap to her ass and grated, "Don't you make a fucking sound, bitch, until I'm all the way in!" Inez subsided to the point of merely emitting laboured grunts for the next few moments while Jason seated himself. Sharon seated herself and resumed eating while watching Jason begin to move, setting up a shattering attack on Inez's poor abused anus. The arousal that the attack generated was embarrassing, but it was there, anyway, whether she liked it or not. Inez puffed and panted, her thick black hair waving every which way as she absorbed Jason's anger. Armand chuckled to himself; he knew the signs. Undoubtedly, they'd become more pronounced when Inez turned the corner. What to do about it was less clear; perhaps it was best to ignore it and let Sharon stew in her own juices, since things had so much exceeded his simple plans for this meeting... Jason swatted Inez on the ass. "Up on your arms, Slut! I want to see those fat titties swinging!" Inez obliged, and the anticipated motion began immediately, adding a semi-hypnotic component to the display. In a few moments, Armand recognized that Inez had turned the corner -- instead of merely absorbing Jason's thrusts, she began backing into them. Sharon, absently munching asparagus, was right behind him in recognition of the Mexican woman's state, and was therefore unsurprised when she began to moan, "OooooOooh... Huh... Aiy... Aiy... Aiy..." Jason started swatting her ass at that point, but it didn't seem to matter; in fact, it appeared to add to things... Suddenly the Wench bustled in, apologizing, "Sorry, Master, I was locked in and had to wait for Sir... Mistress!!" She hurried over and curtsied before Armand, but then circled the table and knelt beside Sharon, who eyed her in surprise. Armand, however, nodded approval; this was the woman's function, and she'd executed it correctly. "Why were you locked up?" The Wench shrugged. "Sir felt it necessary to remind me of my estate..." Sharon gazed at her, puzzled. "Why did you kneel before ME?" "I have told you this -- it is my function to minister to the needs of guests. Do you have any needs? I see that you have entertainment..." She spared Jason and Inez a wry glance. "Are you aroused? Should I... help?" "Uhhhh, no..." Sharon was embarrassed nearly to death by the query. She WAS aroused, but, well... this just wasn't the place or the time -- or maybe even the person... Armand was smiling thinly. The Wench's initial reaction to Sharon had given him a twinge, but it was more or less correct, so he let it lie. Inez provided a further distraction at that moment by wailing, "Ooooohhhh, Dios Mio!!! Aiiiieeeeee!!!!!" and throwing herself back at Jason, her eyes rolling up. Armand commented mildly, "Responsive, isn't she?" Jason nodded tightly. Anger had largely faded, leaving him with the drive to pour his spunk in the slut's ass. Funny, how that happened... Her sphincter was going nuts; Jason backed off until it was squeezing the base of his glans and it did as he intended, bringing him those last few millimeters. He punched in deep, and roared, "Now take it, you chunky slut! Take my cum!" Armand sighed, eyeing Sharon. "We've actually exceeded things a bit; this isn't the normal luncheon entertainment. In fact, I don't remember ever actually having sex in the dining room..." Jason glanced up at Sharon, "Sorry..." He wasn't really -- both of them knew it. He was just obeying the forms... Sharon nodded, doing the same. Inez, much closer due to her position draped over the table, could finally afford embarrassment, so she bought a case. The two women passed a look in which Inez detected a certain amount of understanding and forgiveness. Jason backed off and popped Inez on the ass. "Up off the table, Slut. Drooling on the tablecloth isn't hygienic." He looked down at his cock; obviously, Inez hadn't been prepared for anal sex. "Let's go out into the hall for a minute..." Inez lurched up vacantly and turned toward the door under Jason's hands. Sharon watched them out; obviously, they didn't go far. There were male murmurs, female murmurs, and the sound of a slap. Sharon put two and two together... ... And got the right answer. As soon as they were in the hall, Jason observed, "You were a mess in there -- clean me up!" Inez glanced down. "Dios Mio! No!" That was the wrong thing to say; it earned her a roundhouse slap that brought her to her knees. She was still seeing stars when the shitty mess passed her lips. After that, it didn't seem to matter; it was awful, repugnant, and at some point she was going to vomit, but choice wasn't an issue. Especially messy were the hairs at the root of Master's cock; there, the excrement seemed to be mixed with something... a natural lubricant? She sucked and licked, somehow dealing with the mess... Jason suffered her attentions until it appeared that she was done, then pushed her away roughly and pulled up his trousers. Sticking his head back in the dining room door, he said, "If you'll excuse us, Sir, Inez needs to clean up..." Armand waved, intent on ignoring the whole thing. Jason ordered, "Go get your skirt, and hide your mouth -- you're a mess. Go clean up and wash that toilet below your nose, then come back to me... Never mind, I'll go with you." He snapped his fingers and pointed, and Inez ran in to collect her skirt, covering her mouth. Jason grinned; in reality, there were no external signs of her recent activity, but she'd be embarrassed, and that was the point of the exercise. He followed her back to her quarters, watching her naked ass sway. Dammit! Did she have to be so... desirable? "Are you SURE you're okay, Mistress?" the Wench asked. She smelled excitement... "I'm... fine, thank you." Sharon was wet, and undoubtedly her skirt would show it when she rose, but SHE wasn't going to have sex in the dining room... Turning to Armand, she asked, "What REALLY happened here?" Armand shrugged. "Jason is excitable, although he normally uses an iron will to control it. It became apparent that I was delving under his skin while describing the incident with Inez -- something that seldom occurs -- so I succumbed to the temptation to seriously rub it in, which brought his temper to the point that an outburst was not only imminent, it was required. The aftermath..." Armand shrugged again. "I will revisit this with him on multiple occasions in the future, as it was an unforgivable breach. I apologize for it, as it was NOT my intent to bring a circus to lunch." He mused a moment. "This whole thing has been the most noise and uproar that has ever occurred here, my entertainment of countless toys notwithstanding. It's amazing how the whole thing has gotten out of hand... Perhaps, since the dining room is no longer a safe haven, we should retire to the study again..." Sharon nodded, and the pair rose. Armand collected the Wench with his eyes and the trio exited the dining room. Moments later, they were in the study, in their starting positions, with the Wench kneeling next to Sharon's chair. Armand sat for a moment, then directed, "Retrieve the wine and the glasses from the dining room." Both women started, but Sharon checked her motion while the Wench shot out the door. Armand waited while Sharon composed herself and asked, "How many guests has she served?" Armand smiled thinly. "Just yourself and Nora. No one has accessed her 'advanced functions'. She's rather new, after all..." "There have been countless others. Why did you keep her?" "I had an attack of conscience. I was certain that I had destroyed her." "She claims otherwise." "I'm beginning to believe her." Armand chuckled. "She's unique in her pursuit of perfect service. I find it somewhat amazing." "I'm surprised you never trained anyone for it," Sharon rejoined. "Besides you?" Armand chuckled. "I'm sure you're aware that I value the battle of wills more than the fruits of the actual conquest. I never got around to such." Sharon nodded, subdued. What was she here for? What on Earth was he up to? The Wench returned with a tray, carefully handing out the glasses and refilling them, then setting the tray on a sideboard and resuming her position. Armand waited out the interruption, then began, "I imagine you're wondering..." "Yes." "All right. Nora has absorbed her patterns of upright conduct from you, and apparently most of them took. Now it's time for her to absorb a bit of reality. I propose to move her here so that she can observe the real world in action." "You're going to contest custody, at this late date?" Sharon nerved herself for a fight. "I don't see that as necessary," Armand replied blandly. "The conditions that dictated our separation have elapsed. Therefore, I think it best that both of you return home." "Home? Neither of us has been here more than once! That's not MY definition of 'home'! Armand, we're NOT married any more!" Sharon was nonplussed. The NERVE of the man! But then again, this WAS Armand... "Our home is across town." "Your home is where I consider it best that you be," Armand contended. "That applies to YOU even more than it does to Nora, as she will undoubtedly be making her own way at some point. YOUR place is with ME!" "Armand, we're NOT married..." "You intend to deny that we have a relationship?" Armand countered. "Uuh, we don't HAVE to..." "Who do you think controls that?" Sharon glared at her ex-husband furiously. Okay, she knew the answer to that question, but she was damned if she'd admit it verbally! "As for your home, how much of a haven do you think it is? I might as well live there -- I know more about what goes on there than YOU do!" "You do not!" Sharon screeched. "Don't I?" Armand got up and went to a cabinet, where literally hundreds of DVDs were racked. "Let's look at, say, Tuesday afternoon, shall we?" He popped the DVD into a deck in a wall unit and a large screen on the wall came to life. Sharon recognized the screen menuing system and got a chill -- this didn't mean... ? It did. Sharon was treated to a number of quick flashes of scenes in virtually every room in her house as Armand settled upon a timeframe -- in her bedroom. She watched herself settle on her bed, then Armand began fast-forwarding until her hand sneaked into the crotch of her culottes. One thing was VERY clear -- there had been no requirement to open the shades to get Armand's people to see what she was doing! There were three different views in her bedroom alone, and NONE of them came through a window! "Oh... My... God..." Armand slowed things down to 2:1 while Sharon's hands crawled all over her chest and crotch, unseating her bra and tossing her culottes across the room, shredding her panties so she could stick three fingers in her pulsing vaginal opening... Resolution was incredible -- she actually saw the fluids splash out when she ejaculated... Armand chuckled. "I'd thought you were capable of that, but never obtained much in the way of evidence..." "Y-you PERVERT!" The humiliation was absolutely incredible. Worse was the fact that it went on and on, through her efforts at recovery -- re- making her bed with new linens... The cameras even followed her into the shower! "AS I said," Armand chuckled. "You only THOUGHT you were living alone..." He began flipping again, and action centered on Nate and Nora -- first, quiet study in her room, then Nora leading Nate into Sharon's bedroom to dig in the toy box. The listened to Nate and Nora's conversation over whether they should do a viewing, then Armand picked up the speed as they settled in and began watching in Nora's room. No wonder they'd fucked like bunnies! And it was all there, on video -- every stroke! Including Nate swatting Nora on the ass and sticking his thumb in her rectum! Ohmigod! Sharon was overcome -- she was angry, humiliated -- and, worse, aroused... "As you can see," Armand pointed out, "Nate is a considerate if inventive lover..." "I suppose you have their first time on video?" Sharon worked hard at scorn; shock made it hard work. "Yes. It's a bit poor, mostly infra-red, since the Porter residence isn't properly wired..." "My God, you're an INCREDIBLE voyeur!" "The intent was to keep an eye on you. I capture quite a bit of the mundane..." Armand replied. "I couldn't be there, directly, so..." He steepled his fingers. "Didn't you ever wonder why things always managed to appear when they had to?" "And when things got rough?" Sharon queried, but then answered it herself, "You were manipulating me!" "You're surprised?" "I need to leave!" "As you wish. Wench, get your robe and go with her." The Wench nodded and rose. She was pretty clear on what she was to attempt. "I'll call for Jorge." Armand punched the intercom and directed that the driver meet Sharon at the front door. "As you can see, any freedom you assumed that you had was illusory. You are mine -- you always have been despite fictions of marital status. I am merely directing that you return home." "Never!" "If you push me, I will arrange it so that you change your mind..." Armand's threat was smooth, silky. Sharon knew he would deliver, too, but she could NOT capitulate under these circumstances. "You can try!" Armand merely nodded, but that was enough; Sharon knew that trouble was on the horizon. As he led her to the door, he murmured, "This isn't going well... The whole visit has been a botch. But I will let you know this: When you return to me, things will not be as they were before Nora's birth; I have other draws on my attention, and I realize that you require time to yourself. In addition, I obviously have a staff, flawed as they are, so the demands on you will be much less..." "That's all well and good, Armand, but I wouldn't hold my breath -- this visit has been a real eye-opener! At this moment, I'd have to be an utter fool to roll over and accept any of YOUR promises!" They arrived at the door. Sharon was feeling a little proud of herself; Armand hadn't managed to railroad her into ANYTHING, much less sex! The Wench was coming up the hall in her hooded cloak, a BDSM Little Red Riding Hood; they'd be gone in seconds... Armand, however, was not going to let her go unscathed. He pushed her against the wall, holding her shoulders, and raped her lips. "You WILL come home to me -- this only ensures that you will be wiser when you do it..." He stood back, and nodded to the Wench, who led her to the car. Sharon spent the next few seconds on automatic, while she damned herself for not mustering anything effective in the way of resistance to his surprise attack. Damn him, anyway! He had keys to ALL of her doors... The part of her that wasn't angry with him had enjoyed it and allowed it to feed her arousal -- and her recognition of that fact was embarrassing. The Wench arranged it such that Sharon preceded her into the car, which gave her a clear shot at the soaking wet patch on the woman's skirt. Yes, she was her Mistress, all right; best to get used to it. If they couldn't be sisters in bondage, they could at least be friends and co- conspirators... Armand watched the limo pull away, sighing. The visit had been a fuck-up of global proportions -- nothing about the recovery from it was going to be easy. On the other hand, it would CERTAINLY be a challenge... "The nerve..." Sharon started to blow almost immediately, despite the fact that she was nowhere near safe; pressures were just too high... The Wench leaned to the side and began massaging Sharon's shoulders, startling her. "Are you really surprised? That WAS Master, after all..." Sharon's first inclination was to shrug out of the massage, but it felt good, and she was incredibly tense... "I know, but he's exceeded himself THIS time! My God! I mean, really! The things that go on there! I'm supposed to move in there, and bring Nora? The place is a-a..." Sharon couldn't think of a term. "It is Master's home," the Wench soothed, shrugging. "I'm sure you realize he has special needs... I haven't been there long -- maybe six weeks -- but today -- this week -- has been unusual. Certainly, Master is correct in that certain things have leaked out of the playroom..." "Playroom! I haven't even SEEN that! I can't imagine -- or maybe I can..." "Well, I've been there, and been used there... Master hasn't had another, ummm, 'toy', since I have been there, but I'm pretty sure that usually, the more extreme activity is usually limited to a very few rooms in the house." "Why are you here?" Sharon began to feel suspicion. "Because you need to hear the truth, and you need to relax. Surely you know that your visit did NOT go as Master planned?" "I'm sure you're right, but why should I trust you?" "Um. I think I understand where Master is going, here -- maybe better than HE does. You know that the pair of you have a special relationship, don't you?" "Yeah," Sharon rasped. "Most divorces more or less end things." "There is more to it than that," the Wench asserted. "Master... entertains himself with his 'toys', but he always comes back to you. I think he knows that you can't stand the full force of his personality, but you provide something basic that he needs..." "So I'm supposed to make myself available to him -- take care of his 'needs'?" Sharon spouted. "What about MY needs? I'm supposed to move back in with him and be his slut? Sometimes?" "Ummmm, don't you think it would be smarter if you didn't bear the brunt of his recreations?" the Wench asked. "Wouldn't it be better if he got extreme with others?" "Why should I participate at all, for God's sake?" The Wench looked at her sadly, "Mistress..." "... And stop calling me that!" "... You know you enjoy it..." "Damn it, Felicia! I MIGHT enjoy how someone else does it!" "Sharon," the Wench tasted the name, "Do you really think you could respect a man who JUST told you he loved you and had gentle sex with you?" "I-I don't know..." Sharon didn't, either. She'd never had anyone but Armand, and had no idea what anyone else might be able to do for her. "Maybe not. But I don't see me finding out. Armand... sees... EVERYTHING!" "Well..." Sharon was right -- but God knew what Master would do with THAT comment... "Look, Sharon, you KNOW Master will get his way, eventually..." "Well, maybe. But after THAT, I can't just roll over... I couldn't, anyway, but after TODAY..." "Master will do whatever it takes..." "Well, it's gonna take quite a bit, this time!" The Wench merely shook her head, and kept rubbing Sharon's neck and shoulders. At least she was settling down... Now that she'd let it out a bit, Sharon really DID relax. And she started wondering why she was being worked on... "Okay, enough! What are you trying to accomplish?" "I'm trying to calm you down a bit -- it's my job..." "Felicia..." Sharon eyed her sidelong. "Well?" The Wench looked innocent. "Why ELSE do you think he sent me?" "To spy on me?" "He can do that all by himself -- and YOU know it!" Sharon blinked. Nora had SAID the car was wired... Oh, gawd... "Dammit!" "Shhh, just take it easy..." "I'm not saying ANOTHER WORD!" Sharon seethed. "Then you might as well let me rub your neck..." Sharon eyed her, but she let it happen -- and it DID help... By the time the limo arrived home, she'd settled down again. "You're a good girl Felicia. What in the Hell are you doing with Armand?" The Wench smiled. "He understands me. He understands YOU, too. Think about that..." She waved and the limo pulled away. Nora looked up as her mother breezed through the door, "So, how did it go?" "He's insane! He wants us to move in with him!" Nora giggled. "Well..." "Honey, that animal Jason raped that woman Inez's ass, right at the table! That place is a zoo!" "Mom, you know she likes it! I bet she got off!" "Honey! My God!" "Still," Nora added, thoughtfully, "I figured that Jason had more control -- a LOT more control..." "Well, it's MY understanding that he operates with a certain amount of rage -- and your father decided to tease the animal and then throw him Inez as a snack!" "Hmmm, I can see that. Still, I'm sure it's unusual..." "Does it matter? It's still... excessive!" "Well, that's all Daddy!" "Among other things! This house -- it's wired for sound!" "Oh?" Nora looked uneasy. "Yes." Sharon savored her daughter's expression. "After he showed me some highly embarrassing events in MY Tuesday afternoon, he showed me YOU raiding the toy box and snatching DVDs! AND what you did while watching them..." "Oops!" "Yeah, oops!" Sharon eyed her daughter askance. "You seem to be enjoying Nate..." 'Omigawd, she's SEEN us!' "Uuh... Mom! What..." "Well, that whole episode, although it was speeded up quite a bit. Nate spanked you?" "Well, it wasn't like that, quite, Mom. Not like Daddy was doing to YOU!" "Well..." Sharon eyed her daughter. "The point is, we have NO privacy here! NOTHING is sacred! Not even the shower..." "Wow! That bad, huh?" The phone rang. Sharon picked it up, listened for a moment, and put it on speaker. The speaker emitted two words before it went dead: "That bad." For a moment, the pair of them just stared at it. "Shit!" "Honey!" "Well, we'll save Daddy a lot of money if we move in with him -- he won't have to keep snoops on us twenty-four hours a day..." "The things he'll expose you to!" Sharon shuddered. Nora grinned crookedly. "That's the point, Mom. Daddy wants me to see how the other half lives." "Well, THIS is our home!" "Apparently, it's his, too." "We'll see... I'm going up to my room and try to find the bugs. When I'm done, I'll try to do the bathroom and your room. THAT should fix his wagon!" Nora watched her mother march upstairs, shaking her head and grinning wryly. Daddy would do what he would do; if Mom found anything, he'd no doubt have it replaced in a day or two. If Mom wanted to feel she'd accomplished something, fine. But it was a waste of time, and she probably knew it. This was an extension of one of their little office conflicts; Daddy would give her some line and then proceed to reel her in. It'd be easier if she just went upstairs and packed her bags, but that wasn't Mom's way -- or Daddy's, either. Ah, well... Still, it changed things. Nora went upstairs to do homework and couldn't help glancing around, wondering where the cameras were. Her room was suddenly a somewhat alien place... After a bit, she grimaced; okay, they were just a bit ahead of reality TV, apparently. No big thing. When it got right down to it, if Daddy had already seen everything -- including her having sex with Nate -- there wasn't any particular reason to modify her behavior... Sharon felt differently -- VASTLY differently. Armand had invaded her personal space! He was a pervert, a voyeur, and she wasn't going to put up with it if she absolutely didn't HAVE to! She went to the little toolbox the family kept and extracted some pliers and a screwdriver, a hammer and a couple of nails, then sat on her bed, remembering the angles in the video she'd seen, looking around the walls. There? What was that? She pounced on an innocuous-looking paint void in the corner of her room... Armand, watching via camera sets that had not been revealed in the video, chuckled. If Sharon was VERY lucky, she might find a fiber-optic lens; more likely, however, was a lot of gratuitous damage to various parts of her room without any real effect. But this was vintage Sharon -- a true test of wills -- and he was going to enjoy it to the hilt... The next two hours saw a lot of banging around as Sharon, frustrated, hunted for the eyes of her tormentor. When doing violence to this and that accomplished nothing but a couple of spectacular holes in her walls, she settled for applying toothpaste or chewing gum to every visible gap in the continuity of her bedroom walls. She actually managed to cover the infra-red port by accident, and scratched the lens of a favorite camera, but in general, visibility in her room was only mildly impaired. When she moved to the bathroom, she had a fine case of frustration going; Armand grinned hugely over his afternoon tea as she entered the shower stall and began measuring inches and angles, based upon views of her breasts it had afforded during his demonstration of her surveillance. Watching her hold her breasts and try to draw lines and angles -- priceless. She chipped away the grout below a whole row of tiles without finding anything (she was one row off), then realized that she was compromising the integrity of the shower. "Damn you, Armand!" She stamped her foot in frustration, then went down to the storage room off the kitchen to locate a tube of caulk. When she got back upstairs, Nora was standing there. "Can I use the bathroom?" "Might as well -- he's seen everything you've got -- in action!" Nora didn't let the comment rattle her too much. "Accomplishing anything?" "Not in here, but I think my room's pretty tight." Nora stepped over to her mother's door and looked in. The paint job appeared to have white leopard spots, and there were bumps everywhere. "I've decided to live with the cameras. It'll be something like 'Big Brother'. Besides, I don't think I can deal with the room remodel..." She went into the bathroom and settled on the toilet. Sharon closed the door; at least Nora had privacy from HER... Sharon returned to her room and sat there, thinking about it. She'd meant for him to see her masturbating, to keep him from going through with one of his insane threats -- but not like the way he'd actually done it! My God! The total lack of privacy the video implied... The man had probably watched her dress and undress every day for God knew how long! But the WORST thing -- the absolute WORST -- was the fact that he'd introduced her to masturbation in a serious way, and now she couldn't DO it... The luncheon had fired Sharon up something awful; her pussy itched constantly, and concentrating on obliterating surveillance devices somehow hadn't helped -- probably due to the fact that the memory of her exposure was always in the forefront of her detection process. Well, she should be reasonably safe; she hoped that she frustrated the voyeuristic bastard, at this point. She went to the toy box and collected the small vibe, shucked out of her dress, then climbed into bed, under the covers, and proceeded to undress the rest of the way there... Armand, watching from two cameras embedded in the headboard of the bed, chuckled. Hitting the intercom, he roared, "Wench! Get in here!" "Yes, Master! Where, Master?" "The Media Room. Hurry!" Moments later, the Wench came boiling in, skidding to a stop before Armand and dropping on her knees. "Master?" "Since you insist that Sharon is mistress in this house, you should educate yourself in how to please her. Kneel up before me; I may decide to use you during this..." "Why is she playing beneath the blankets, Master?" Armand chuckled. "She just spent an hour and a half trying to find surveillance cameras in her room, without much success. She thinks this will defeat me." "Not the way she's holding the blankets up..." Sharon was holding up the blankets with one hand, for two reasons: she was already uncomfortably warm, and she wanted to see what she was doing with the vibe. Heretofore, she hadn't paid much attention to the instrument or where she was applying it, going by feel. This time, she wanted to see, since she wasn't watching a video, exactly what felt good. The vibrator, a small item with three brass balls in the tip, rolled easily over flesh fevered by the day's events; she worked it along the outside areas first, avoiding her inner labia while she discovered what less-than-direct stimulation felt like. Even that was okay, but closer work, ooooohhhh, was better... Damned blankets were SOOOO hot, but Armand wasn't going to see this, the bastard! He could hear it, though, if he had the equipment -- she hoped he got all frustrated and made the Wench fuck him! She surged up and tossed the blankets, retaining the sheet -- that should be good enough... Nope, there just isn't enough air in here... Frustrated, Sharon reached under her pillow and grabbed her nightie and struggled into it, then slid out of bed. This was insane... Her bed was a four-poster, so she had uprights... Yeah, that would work! It would look stupid, like she was a twelve year old, playing tents and forts in bed, but... Dashing across the hall, she asked Nora, "Honey, do you have any of those metal binder clips? The spring type?" Nora looked up, puzzled. "Only the big ones..." "Good! The bigger, the better! Where?" "In the drawer..." Why was Mom in her nightie? Nora opened her mouth, thought better of it, and shut up, and her mother snatched a couple of the spring clips from her drawer and let herself out of the room. Next, to the front closet, where the skates were stored... Sharon pulled the laces out of an old pair, and headed back up the stair. Back in her room, she tied off he clips to the bedposts with the laces, then clipped the top sheet, making a primitive lean-to. Armand's rumbling chuckle broke out as she slid under it and began removing her nightie. "Master? I don't get it!" "Well, there are three or four reasons for mirth," Armand related. "First, this is an attempt to defeat surveillance. Second," Armand paused while Sharon turned on the vibrator and began applying it to her nether lips, eliciting a low moan. They had a fine view over her shoulder, from the headboard, which Armand split-screened with a right side view that the sheet obscured not at all -- particularly when Sharon spread her knees, poking it up further! Sharon moaned again. "Second," Armand reiterated, "she's thumbing her nose at us by making noises when she's sure we can't see anything. But the biggest issue here -- and one that she's blind to -- is that she just HAS to masturbate! This is the 'new' Sharon in action! The one who has finally admitted that she enjoys sex! Now what do you think she's fantasizing about?" The Wench might have been surprised. Sharon was aware that if she'd allowed it, the Wench would have had sex with her in the limo. Given that she was steaming hot between the legs and she had clear, recent memories of the Wench's tongue, fantasizing being serviced was easy... Armand might be able to see her, usually, but he couldn't read her mind... The vibe slowly zeroed in on her clit while she worked a finger into her sopping opening, moaning. She didn't care about making noise, as long as Armand couldn't see... In her mind's eye, the Wench's hands drifted from her neck down her back, then slid under her arms to fondle her breasts, (she withdrew her finger from her soaking opening and brought it up to work a nipple). Slowly, she reoriented Sharon on the seat so that her pussy was available and lowered her lips to it... Sharon moaned again as the vibe rolled over her clit and her finger slid again into her depths. ------- Nora heard the noises and got up quietly to see what was going on. It sounded like the noise was coming from Mom's room... She crept to the door and listened, detecting another moan, then slowly turned the knob... She was almost unable to quash the snicker that the sight she beheld generated! Mom had made a tent of the bed sheet, and was slowly undulating on the bed, hidden by it! Unbelievable! Nora could see her mother's knees poking up through the sheet, rocking back and forth as she worked herself up. 'Well, go, Mom!' Nora thought to herself; this was the first time she'd ever actually caught her doing anything like this. After a fashion, it was vindication -- Mom had drives, too, after all! She watched for a few moments, then decided that her mother could do without any further embarrassment, and quietly re-closed the door. Sharon was well along; the Wench's soft tongue delving into Sharon's sex while her thumb worked her clitoris was the fantasy that brought her rushing to the edge. In a moment, the dam burst, and Sharon, her jaws locked tight, grunted, "Hrrrgh, hrrrgh hrrgh!" as her release poured over her. Once wasn't enough; before she came down good, the vibe was demanding that she attempt a second pass, her clitoris buzzing and pulsing to its vibrations. Only when she'd squealed out a second orgasm, did sanity return. But return it did, with embarrassing coldness. Sharon was sweaty, the bed was damp, and she'd made this silly tent-thing -- Why had it been so godawful important? And what had Armand seen? Did the thing work? Why did it matter, except for the small victory that it might represent? And why on Earth did she just HAVE to masturbate? Gawd! What was she turning into? She wanted a shower -- bad -- to wash off the sex sweat, but Armand could see everything! One thing was certain; the place wasn't anything resembling a safe-haven -- if it ever had been. How long could she put up with this? And, even if she acquiesced, would it get any better? She fought her way back into the nightie and got up, collecting a robe, her head a comical sight as she peeped, prairie-dog style, over the sheet before getting up. Turning from the closet, she gathered herself, and with at least the appearance of dignity, entered the bathroom to take a shower. Perhaps if she faced away from the wall... Armand chuckled. What exactly would he do about this? Obviously, she'd have to be apprised of the fact that she'd failed... He granted her peace in the shower -- or at least from his direct observation. The surveillance team would catch it all... "Phone." The Wench leaped for it, and was back in a flash. "Swallow my cock," Armand directed, while he hit the speed dial. "Hello?" Nora answered her cell phone. "Quite the show, wasn't it? You should have seen it from MY angle!" her father's voice sounded in her ear. Nora giggled, then sobered. "Daddy, do you see EVERYTHING?" "Somebody does. I get the highlights, at least. You should use more pillows when you read like that -- you'll break your neck!" Nora rolled her eyes, and Armand chuckled, "I saw that!" "Why?" "It was the next best thing to being there." "Will it be the same at your house?" "Well, the facilities exist, but I might be persuaded to use them less..." "Was Mom successful at all?" "No. I could count her pubic hairs." "What about me?" "My interest in you is purely parental, child. Certainly, I've seen perhaps more of you than a father should, but it isn't an exercise in lust, like it is becoming with your mother." "Becoming?" "Only recently has she even dared to touch herself sexually. Today was quite a breakthrough -- and she's now embarrassed about it. For the past decade or more, she has only been a sexual being in my presence; now, that's changing, and I'm remembering why I took her and married her in the first place. She will be returning to me, whether she likes it or not." Armand paused. "In aid of that, things are going to become more and more interesting for your mother. Some comments she made in the limo solidified some plans I have to broaden her base of experience. I think," he cleared his throat, "I think you should plan to take in a movie with Mr. Adams tomorrow afternoon." "Ummmm. You're not going to hurt her, are you, Daddy?" "No, not really. Not in any lasting manner, anyway. But there will be some... excitement... and her level of sexual experience is going to take another leap. At the same time, her perception of that house as a safe haven is going to take a serious hit... Contact your boyfriend and make a date; I will see to it that you have funds to defray your costs." The line went dead. Nora grimaced and closed her phone. 'He can certainly be abrupt, ' she thought to herself, then remembered the level of surveillance. She didn't need the phone to talk to HIM! "Yes, Daddy." She called Nate. ------- Chapter 21: Friday's Aftermath and Party Preparations Mary Nally was lolling in bed, Teddy on one side and Stick on her other. Both boys were in recovery; after a none-too-exciting breakfast of cereal, sweet buns, and coffee, she'd demanded equal time from Stick, kneeling up and taking his long shaft doggy-style in the bed. And she'd been deliberately loud about it -- so loud that Stick had waved Teddy over from where he was watching and tugging that fireplug cock of his and told him, "Put that thing in her mouth an' see if you can get her to pipe down!" Stick knew what was going on, but DAMN! He didn't want her Mama freaking out and going after them all with a knife or a gun or something! She was a BIG bitch, an' might get through his guard, especially if he was tryin' to protect Mary or Ted... Mary had cum twice before Stick flooded her womb -- he was right there, after all, his length being what it was -- and Teddy had poured a load of HIS spunk out in her mouth. It was a damned good time, and she was looking forward to more of them. Speaking of which... "Teddy, why don't you call Jimmy or Randall and see how last night went?" "Okay." Teddy was generally docile, but with his balls emptied, he was positively loose. Stick watched him sidelong as Mary first directed him not to use his cell, but to get her portable, then put it on speaker. 'Boy needs someone around to keep him from bein' run right over, ' he ruminated to himself. "Hullo?" the phone spouted. "Jimmy? Teddy. Hey, how did the Astronomy Club orgy go?" "I'm thinking pretty well, even if the other two couldn't seem to figure out what they were to each other this morning," Jimmy replied. "Huh? What do you mean?" "I mean they fucked like minks in the dark last night, having a helluva time, but this morning, they couldn't seem to get comfortable. Both of 'em were, like, trying to turn back the clock, or something..." "Really? That's weird..." Mary announced herself. "Mary?" "Yeah, you're on speaker, but there ain't nobody here but us chickens..." Mary glanced at Stick, who merely grinned. What they didn't know... "Well," Teddy hazarded, "Neither of them has ever dated. Boyfriend- girlfriend stuff is probably pretty new..." "They're both in the brain trust, too," Mary added thoughtfully. They know the difference between just sex and a relationship, even if they've only scored one, to date..." "Ummm, yeah, that's it, I think," Jimmy replied. "Sex went well, but they're both suspicious of their feelings..." "Well, just because it hasn't worked yet doesn't mean it won't -- give 'em time," Mary grunted. Jimmy hadn't had that problem with Amy; in the first place, he'd been smitten with her, anyway, and in the second, Amy went into the relationship looking for permanence, not a one-nighter. Randall and Darla Jean, however, were largely looking for a way to scratch their individual itches; add the fact that they were both too smart for their own good, and you got a rather strange post-sexual trauma... "Well, we accomplished what we set out to do -- Teddy was free to party, and Randall and Darla Jean got laid. Nobody bats a thousand..." Jimmy posited. They talked a few moments more about this and that and hung up. Mary eyed Teddy. "I suppose I'm gonna have to bunk down in that cave sometime..." Teddy nodded, and Mary continued, "Although what the Astronomy Club will think of Stick..." Teddy slapped his forehead and swiped his hand down his face while Stick laughed. What a mess THAT would be! The boys cleared out soon after; both lingered long enough to take a shower, Stick for the luxury of it, and Teddy because if she smelled sex on him, his mother would freak... Mary showered after, then wandered downstairs, well pleased with herself. Her mother glared at her, but Pop had her sit at the table. "Hon, there's trouble on the horizon." "Why?" "Those two are going to hit a wall somewhere and out themselves; even with you helping them, they're just too different. Without a clear reason, neither of their groups of friends is going to accept the other, and something as simple as a look will blow the whole thing wide open. The light will come on in someone's head, and they won't NEED evidence. What are you going to do then?" "I dunno, Pop. What will it change?" "Depends. Teddy's friends would probably roll over, but Stick's? And no amount of denial will help him..." "What should I do? Bust it up?" "You can protect Stick by choosing him -- everything would return to normal and die down. But all three of you convinced me this morning that you have something else cooking. When the time comes, it won't be Teddy that needs support -- it'll be Stick, and he'll need it BAD. There are a lot of gay black men, but it goes against the image that straight black males want fostered -- that their sexuality will bring them eventual superiority over whites -- and he will be shunned, ostracized, unless he has some seriously fine friends. Even then, the average member of his peer group won't want anything to do with him. If that happens, the two of you will have to step up to the plate and take over the bulk of his attention and social interaction. The two of you could well end up being his whole world for a time; you and Teddy need to plan for it, or plan to sweep this whole thing under the rug. It's your call." "Wow." Mary was floored. "How long do you figure we've got?" "I don't know. Stick is already assuming the role as Teddy's protector -- he could find himself in an untenable position any day." "Well, the whole thing is simple!" Irma announced, "You don't want that b--..." She shut up; father and daughter were presenting a united front -- glaring at her. Arthur, returning his attention to his daughter, asked, "Where do YOU think they are?" Mary sighed. "Teddy is at least bi, and could drift to gay if he has no reason not to. That's where he was headed until Prom night. He's discovered that he likes girls, but I don't know how deep it is. He's VERY submissive, probably what some people call a bottom. Heck, he might even go TV..." "TV?" Irma blurted. "Television?" "Transvestite," Arthur amplified. "He might decide he's a woman in a man's body." Irma rolled her eyes and slapped her forehead. Arthur just gazed at her. The woman was eminently practical in most frames of reference, but she was absolutely horrid where this subject was concerned. Given the way things were shaping up for Mary, that could be the worst possible thing... "And Stick?" "Stick just likes sex. He would make it on a straight diet of heterosexual sex, but he doesn't have any problem getting it from a guy -- especially if the guy is a bottom, like Teddy!" She chuckled. "Apparently, he made some comment about dressing Teddy up as a girl at their first meeting..." "Really?" Irma was aghast. "Well, they didn't really SEE one another, I guess..." "What?" "Irma," Arthur interjected, "have you ever heard of a glory hole?" "Well, yes, but I don't really know what one is..." Arthur sighed. He wasn't sure he wanted to proceed with this bit of education; if Irma put two and two together... Ah, well... "A glory hole is a way to obtain anonymous sex. It's a hole in a partition, usually in a public bathroom. A male sticks his penis through the hole and gets either a blowjob, or possibly vaginal or anal sex, depending upon who is on the other side and what their wants or needs are. You don't see the person because you're working through a small hole..." "Oh, my!" Irma was shocked. "That sounds... dangerous!" "Well, it undoubtedly isn't safe, given the spread of HIV. It's generally believed that HIV can't be passed by a blowjob, so the vast majority of participants are safe -- but that's merely supposition..." Irma gathered herself, "So either one of these boys..." Arthur cut her off. "Both are young and inexperienced, and indicate that their only partners have been each other and Mary." "Either of them could be lying..." "If that were true, I'd bet on it being Teddy..." Arthur posited. That wasn't what Irma wanted to hear; you could tell by the look on her face. Mary opened up with, "I don't think Teddy has much experience at all, except in giving blowjobs -- even then, it wouldn't be many. I don't think he has anything... "If he does, you're ALL in trouble," Arthur noted, "but I agree with you; I imagine Teddy's experience would be limited and anecdotal. We can always get him tested..." "What about the black boy?" Irma demanded. Arthur and Mary exchanged glances. "Stick wouldn't normally be exposed to homosexual activity; he may have had a girl..." Arthur began. Mary shook her head no. "Stick admitted to a couple of blowjobs by Beulah Tyrone, who trolls worse than I do -- but when he came out of the Men's Room that night, homosexual sex was a new idea with him. Neither of them had ever had a girl, the right way -- or even come close. If Beulah didn't give Stick anything, and Teddy didn't, he's clean." "So you're telling me that the black boy is your best choice?" Queers, blacks -- what was the world coming to? Irma was radically unhappy. "No, Mother -- my BEST choice is to keep them BOTH!" "You CAN'T DO THAT!" Irma screeched. "Well, there might be a way or two. Nothing perfectly legal, of course..." Arthur remarked. "How?" Irma glared. "She marries one... The other is, oh, an employee, or a permanent houseguest..." "This is just... insane!" Irma shook her head. "Which one?" Arthur's smile told her she wouldn't like the answer. "Stick. Teddy occupies a subordinate position." Mary nodded, musing. "But I don't WANT any little black sambos!" Irma wailed. "Mother," Mary ranted, "If and when I have children, I'LL pick the father! Besides, probably only half of them will be mixed..." "Oh, Lord!" Irma got up and walked out. Mary was DETERMINED to be a slut for a couple of... queers! It all made no sense; she refused to have anything to do with it! Arthur watched her go, shaking his head. "This will take a while -- maybe longer than you've got..." "I'll talk to them, remind them to be careful and not go too far covering for one another. And I'll talk to Teddy and try to get him to understand... Right now, he probably figures he's the only one with a problem..." Arthur nodded. "The three of you have to be SURE, because you'll ALL be tested. This isn't a perfect world..." "I know, Pop." Mary got up and headed for the door, then stopped and turned. "Pop? You know too much." Arthur hung his head. "Yeah. Not here, okay?" "Okay." Mary headed upstairs. ------- Darla Jean felt wonderful -- but she wasn't sure what she wanted to do about it. Sex with Randall had been all it was cracked up to be, and more -- but whether that implied anything about Randall was an open question. Randall seemed to feel the same way; certainly, he'd been nice enough, and hadn't made like an asshole, but he hadn't exactly pressed her for a relationship, either. Was that okay? She couldn't decide. These days, what they had done, treated the way they seemed to be treating it (recreational sex), made her some kind of slut; HIV had pushed everyone back up the slope toward monogamy and morality popular three or four decades ago -- maybe five! The current rule of thumb was 'Don't fuck a boy unless you plan to press for a relationship -- or already have one.' ONLY STD's allowed that kind of gold digging to make any sense in Darla Jean's mind -- why sell yourself a pig in a poke? That seemed REALLY stupid... The RIGHT way to do it, in her mind, was to experience SEVERAL men, and then make a reasoned selection based upon their individual merits, which might or might not include their sexual prowess. Randall actually had several things going for him, even without sex; if it turned out that he REALLY WAS a stud, he'd be a catch. But Darla Jean had NO IDEA whether Randall really WAS a stud or not... For now, she merely basked in the glow of her new womanhood. Next time, she'd use some kind of birth control; playing the lottery like they had done was out of character for BOTH of them, and it told Darla Jean that there were powerful forces at work -- as if she didn't know that already. Oh well, no harm done... ------- Darla Jean was the hottest REAL piece of ass Randall had ever heard of, never mind HAD -- but she was the ONLY piece he'd ever had, and that wasn't anything resembling a statistical sample. Jimmy seemed to agree that she was a wild woman, from the noises they'd made and Randall's description of their encounter, but what did it all mean? Did he have a 'magic wand' or was she 'just' firecracker hot? One thing he DIDN'T believe was that they were 'normal' -- he'd heard too many tales of 'dead' lays and guys who got off too quick. If they were normal, it was the high end of the range... Darla Jean had good sense (usually) and made a good lab partner; she tended to be level-headed and didn't jump to conclusions based on a too-small dataset. All this was highly admirable -- but did he love her? Based on a couple of bouts of hot sex? Randall shied away from such foolishness. Only an idiot would make such a leap! If Darla Jean wanted to date, well fine. But undying affection? Uh uh. Commitment wasn't something you hopped into like that. All of which brought Randall back to what he considered the major fuck-up that they'd committed last night -- they hadn't used birth control! This just didn't sound like Darla Jean! Fool that he was, he allowed himself to get swept up in the whole thing, but he'd tried -- and she'd vetoed it! Now that just wasn't smart! Was this an entrapment technique? It made little sense, otherwise; sure, doing it the first time with a rubber would have sucked, but it would have been the safe thing to do -- and Darla Jean was NOTHING if not safe and sane, normally... But she'd been cool and there had been no mention of any going together -- if she was going to reel him in, she was being pretty coy about it... Each of them took home the knowledge of their newfound sexuality, dealing with it separately. ------- Saturday afternoon rolled into Saturday night pretty quietly. Nate, anticipating having Nora in his home at some time in the next forty-eight hours, was feverishly trying to clean the place, something that Tabitha was getting some wry humor from as she strode out the door to go to work. The good news was that this had been a pretty good week, and Friday night had started a pretty good weekend, so she was looking forward to an after-hours party at a club downtown where the good stuff tended to flow fairly cheaply. She didn't really LIKE a couple of the jerks that ran the place, but she didn't like some johns, either, and that didn't keep her from spreading her legs... Good shit was good shit, so if she had to make nice to have a good time, fuck it. Nate would probably prefer that she didn't puke all over the house tomorrow, anyway -- shit, he was in the BATHROOM, cleaning! Nate watched his Mama hit the street with some relief; she seemed not to have the ass, and she'd mumbled something about a party. Usually, partying into Sunday morning meant she'd be comin' down Sunday night and be fairly stable on Monday, which was cool. Eventually, Nora would see her either fucked up or suffering, but if the first meet came while she was in pretty good shape, it'd no doubt help. In the meantime, he got some peace and quiet and a chance to clean out the trash... Nora had called about going to the movies, Sunday afternoon; she said something about her Daddy footing the bill. Was that usual? Nate didn't know. Didn't feel right, though... Nora said something about her Daddy saying it would be convenient for her to be out during that period -- Nate guessed that changed things... He'd push out his homework, so that if Nora wanted him to hang around (his mind shied away from alternative expressions like 'needed a little service' or 'wanted a sperm injection' -- shit like that could lose you your woman if the wrong ears got a hold of it), he'd be able to. Somehow, somewhere, Nate was gonna have to find a way to bring in some money to take out his rich girlfriend on; money, in and of itself, might break their relationship, instead of the more obvious problem of race. ------- Draper was home, keeping his head down. His brothers hadn't really noticed that he was out with anyone, so he was avoiding being ribbed. The flip side was that he was recovering from a day at the Porter's, which had seriously challenged him. Tenisha's Daddy wasn't thrilled about him doin' Tenisha at home -- although her Mama, who seemed to have things mostly in hand, said it was a lot better than anything else they were gonna put together -- and she'd been pretty clear about it. Tenisha's little brother, on the other hand, seemed Hell-bent to embarrass the shit out of Draper, and did a pretty good fuckin' job... Bess summed it up after Draper left: "Big as he is, that boy ain't any too brave. If you're gonna keep him, 'Nisha, the rest of us are gonna have to lay off!" This last was accompanied by a roundhouse glare at the male half of the Porter clan. "Is there anywhere else you two can get any privacy?" Tenisha shook her head sadly. "Then we'll just have to make sure he understands that he's welcome. Right 'Lonzo?" "Oh, all right," Alonzo grumbled, looking away. "And YOU, young man! We're ALL AWARE of what's going on! We don't need YOU to tell us!" "Yes'm." When Momma got going, you didn't make yourself a target. Butter wouldn't melt in Jimmy's mouth, if you believed his expression... ------- Armand and Jason had a looooong talk about the incident at lunch; Jason left the interview very clear on the fact that Armand believed that he had a useable chink in Jason's armor. But Armand's last words to him were, "I don't know whether to be really angry, or thank you for the entertainment she's giving me. We'll see how long and how hard she fights... Speaking of which, she needs an object lesson. Get on the horn to Witherspoon -- I'm going to need a couple of his people. And send Ed to me..." "You sent for me, Sir?" Ed entered Armand's study carefully. The Boss could go either way; he didn't remember anything he'd screwed up, but he'd been thinking about finding a way to tap Inez... "I want to send you over to my ex-wife's house tomorrow," Armand announced. "She tore up a couple of rooms, looking for surveillance equipment; I want you to fix it." "Okay." "I'm going to be sending a couple of men with you to... entertain Sharon. I'll be watching, but you'll be my man on the ground, supervising, making certain that things don't get out of hand." "Entertain? As in..." "Fuck." Armand settled back in his chair, eyeing Ed. "Sharon's sexual experience thus far has been limited to me; recently, she's announced an interest in broadening it, although it was more academic than anything else. I want her to move here, so it suits my purposes to have her home invaded and get the living daylights screwed out of her without her consent. Do you have a problem with that?" Ed gave it a moment's thought. "No, Boss." Armand sat a moment, pensive. "That brings me to you. I'm of two minds about having you do her. The other two are disposable -- Witherspoon's people -- but you're a member of my household. Eventually, Sharon will be the uncrowned mistress of this household; if I let you do her, it could lead to future embarrassment and a requirement that I separate you from your position here. On the other hand, to keep her from putting on airs, I may consider the idea of having all of the male staff take a run at her at some point. You see the issue, I'm sure..." "Yeah," Ed nodded, frowning. "I could end up fuckin' myself..." Armand nodded. "On the other hand, it might ultimately be a non- issue. But I'll be unable to make assurances, even if I grant you permission. In the worst case, however, there would be no prejudice involved and I would assist in ensuring that your next posting was a pleasant and lucrative one." He sat forward. "The other thing would be that if you DID do her, assuming that it was more than a one-time event COULD get you into trouble. I'm sure you understand..." "Yeah," Ed agreed. "She's yours. Doin' her once wouldn't make her mine..." Armand nodded. "Just exactly. Like any other female in this house, her favors are ultimately under MY control. Sharon, in fact, is a special case, due to our relationship -- for one thing, she's the mother of my daughter. ANY approach without specific permission from me would end up in your dismissal with extreme prejudice." Ed didn't need that spelled out. "Safe thing is to keep my hands off." "True. But I'm unwilling to rule out all possibility of contact. I'd like to see her checked for air-tightness, if all goes well -- which takes three men." Ed chuckled at this. "Neat." "I can send along another resource, or I can use you..." "Okay, Boss, I'll try not to get stupid." "If you change your mind, I can probably fill in from Witherspoon's team, so don't feel obligated. Use the surveillance system to get a look at the damage she's done. Jump off is at two p.m.; I'm going to have one of Witherspoon's people cut off the water about one-thirty to give you an excuse to be there and get things started. Don't forget to turn it back on before you leave." "Right." "Jason will help you get a look at the damage. There's some grout work in the shower, and she tore up the bedroom walls looking for cameras." "I'll have to duck 'em?" "To a certain extent. Take a laptop and Jason can help you to pinpoint areas where you'll have to be delicate. Normally, there are fiber- optic lens extenders that can be extruded or retracted, but generally operate flush with the wall. We'll get Witherspoon's people to poke them out so you can work around them. Obviously, we'd prefer that they continue to operate undetected." "Okay. Anything else?" "I want Sharon used to exhaustion, but I don't want her damaged. In fact, I'd prefer that she ultimately enjoy it, but that's probably not anything you'll have to worry about working at, given her training," Armand chuckled. "Still, make certain everyone realizes that I don't want her dead or damaged, merely traumatized a bit. She'll absorb a certain amount of recreational violence, but they're not to break anything. Ideally, aside from some red marks from whatever discipline has to be used to keep her in line and some sore holes, she should be unharmed." "How far do you want the rough stuff to go?" Ed was a bit worried over this. "Witherspoon's men are pros -- they could probably take her without any serious violence -- but I want her to remember it as a violent episode, so we'll go beyond that. Slap her around a bit, but no face punching. Knock the wind out of her a couple of times early on to ensure she's docile and cooperative. Paddle her ass. I realize you don't spend much time in the playroom, so I'll provide a couple more hints: breasts can take a lot of abuse but provide a lot of pain, which makes them a fine target. A couple of good slaps to the breasts will get just about any woman's attention. Stay away from the kidneys and such, or anywhere bony -- punching around bones can injure both of you." Armand paused. "Don't let her get a good look at you; I want a certain amount of plausible deniability. The others can get face time -- they won't be seen again, anyway. If you have further questions, talk to Jason or come back to me. I'll be watching via the surveillance system and recording the incident; once the infrastructure is in place, I'll be able to relay instructions, but I'd prefer to use IM, not voice. I'll be available by phone, if necessary. Any questions?" "Not yet, but..." "Don't guess; this is a priority mission. Ask me. I'll make myself available." Armand waved dismissal and Ed backed out. This was the damnedest deal he'd ever been in on... The next couple of hours were pretty strange; Jason met Ed in the Media Room and they went over the surveillance of Sharon's bedroom and bath, getting an idea of what repairs would be needed. Jason showed Ed the computers that the others would be using and how to use IM to talk to Armand, effectively doubling Ed's computer literacy. About halfway through, Inez came in. Jason glanced up and grunted, "Kneel up, Slut," then proceeded to demonstrate various bits of violence that left little in the way of marks but dealt out extreme pain. Presented with an opportunity to punish Inez for her role in the day's events while the fire of his anger remained hot, Jason had deliberately gone to extremes, working her over systematically under the guise of instruction. He'd very thoroughly proven Armand's statements regarding the punishing of breast flesh true, punching and slapping them until Inez was fairly gibbering, then stopped her with a vicious punch that took her breath away. He taught Ed to slap on the cheek, avoiding the eyes, nose and ears to keep the visible damage to a minimum, then went from ass work to some other areas that were a lot more tender -- inner thighs, armpits, etc. Then, when Inez thought the whole episode was thankfully over, he had Ed demonstrate HIS understanding of the techniques, sometimes correcting him and having him repeat a particular action. By the end of the session, Inez could barely crawl, even though she wasn't permanently damaged anywhere. Oddly, after they'd gone through the entire program, Jason grinned tightly and recommended, "I wouldn't do most of this to Sharon, though -- Armand will likely decide that you've gone too far fairly early. She needs to THINK she's getting her ass whipped, rather than actually GETTING it done, if you know what I mean..." He spurned Inez with his foot, "Crawl back to your quarters, Slut -- I'll be there to fuck you in a bit, and if it isn't good, I'll work you over AGAIN!" Ed shook his head; the little Mexican cunt took a lot of shit from the boss man! When she'd dragged herself out of the room, Jason observed, "This should have demonstrated to you the difference between pain and injury. At worst, she'll have a few bruises, but we used her body's own warning system to tell her she was thoroughly broken. There are times when your nerves can be used against you, and you're better off ignoring them. Remember that -- the knowledge will stand you in good stead." Ed nodded, and Jason walked out. After a moment, Ed followed, but first, he composed himself a bit. He'd never kicked a woman's ass before, and, frankly, he wondered if he was going to still like the guy he saw in the morning when he shaved after this incident... Ed ALSO decided to shelve his plans for coaxing a fuck out of that poor slut Inez, convinced that Jason would make him pay a whole lot more than it was worth for it if he caught him. ------- Meanwhile, Armand delivered instructions to Witherspoon. "I want two of your people who are experienced in direct intimidation to work on Sharon. They don't have to be exceedingly well hung, but they should have a certain prowess, because I want her used and I want it to last long enough that she enjoys it. Preferably, one of them should be black." "Just one?" "Yes. I'll be sending along my carpenter to do some repairs in her bedroom. One black is a distraction; two will just point him up, and I want him not to be recognized, if possible. I'm looking for plausible deniability -- to be able to claim that a competitor may have done it. While he's working, I want her thoroughly distracted and entertained -- you understand." "Yessir." "Have someone go in at 1:30 and shut her water off, outside. Once your people are inside, they can restore it. My man will arrive at about 2:30, and the three of them will pose as plumbers until they're inside the door, then your people take her and my man goes to work. I'll want it all on video; have your people take a laptop so we can talk about positions and angles and such. Have a third agent standing by; I may let my man get a piece of Sharon, and I may not, but I want a shot of all her holes being filled, so have your boys pace themselves for that. Use some limited violence -- I want her subdued and to take some pain, but not visibly marked or damaged, if possible. You understand?" "I think so, Sir. Limits?" "Hmmmm. Taunt her, abuse her, treat her like a whore. Use deliberate violence until she's pliant and to make sure she remains so. I'm sure some of your people are aware of some very painful but not too visible interrogation techniques..." "Yessir." "The scenario I'd like to paint is a break-in by a competitor. Your people can work from there -- interrogate her about things she knows nothing of, and torture her a bit over her poor answers -- that kind of thing. Make her wonder whether she's going to survive, if possible. Use her like she's disposable. I'll want a second team, led by Jason, to arrive just too late to catch your boys, enhancing the whole idea that it was an invasion. To a certain extent, therefore, things will need to be carefully choreographed -- understood?" "Yessir." "We'll probably not use these people anywhere that Sharon can detect them ever again; if you need to, bring in outside staff. But YOU are responsible, and I, through my man on site, have the last word on what's going on. If things go seriously awry, I'll want your scalp!" "I understand, Sir. Do you want her gagged or blindfolded, or anything?" "Tie her up to whatever extent is consistent with what you're doing at the time. It'd be nice if she could see the dicks going into her, but not recognize your people..." "I have a couple of ideas for that. Some blinders..." "Good. Some tortures are more effective if the victim can see... One of my goals for this is for her to see the house as dangerously untenable, in order to coerce her to move here. She's to feel she's unsafe there, and to have bad memories..." "Yessir. I understand." "Send your people around tomorrow morning at ten for me to interview." ------- Bianca looked up as her mother staggered through the door, looking haggard and obviously in pain. "Aiy! Mama! Are you okay?" Inez, buck naked, staggered over and collapsed in a chair, crying. "It was terrible! He... beat me! And tortured me like he's never done! And it was all very... clinical... And THEN he had Señor Ed do the same thing!" Bianca looked her mother over. She was shaking like a leaf, but there didn't seem to be a mark on her... "Where did he hit you?" "What?" Inez blinked. "Well, these..." She touched her right breast and winced. "He slapped me, and punched me in the stomach..." "And he had Mr. Ed do the same thing? Stand up, Mama, let me see if you need bandages or anything..." Inez wearily did so. "I think he was teaching Señor Ed. I don't know why... He was angry, but he was pretending that it was all just a... demonstration..." "Really?" Whatever Mister Jason had done, the vast majority of it wasn't visible, or wouldn't last the night... Mama had had red marks worse than this, many times... "I don't know if I can take this... Maybe we should leave. I could let your father beat me until he was happy again..." "Papa would never be happy, Mama. His ego just couldn't stand it." "We may have to go live on the street, or something..." Inez obviously wasn't thrilled. Just as obviously, she was contemplating becoming a prostitute. From the look on her face, she was thinking that it might end up being Bianca's interim employment, too -- and wasn't thrilled, to her credit... Jason walked into the room. Bianca saw him immediately; Inez picked it up from her eyes. Turning, she detected Jason and dropped to her knees -- not so much kneeling as having the strength leached out of her legs. Jason displayed his teeth. "I see that I have penetrated that complacency of yours and gained your attention." He strode over to where she knelt and pulled her head to him, just standing there for a moment, stroking her hair. Anger had departed, leaving... what? Certainly, there was an emotion there, but he was unable to identify it. Fondness? Maybe... "You did well in there. I'm... proud of you." Inez couldn't see, but the words were more or less unprecedented. Bianca COULD see, and surprised a look on Jason's face that certainly no one ELSE had ever seen... He pulled Inez's head back by the hair and said gruffly, "Go in the other room and kneel up for me -- I'm going to want to take you. Find some way to protect your breasts; they're going to hurt for a while. I don't think a bra will do it -- perhaps a really tight top, or an ace bandage? Bianca, would you assist? Let me know when you're ready..." He walked over and plopped into a chair. From Bianca's viewpoint, the man might as well have grown two heads! Her mother, who hadn't been able to summon courage to examine his face, was still somewhat in the dark as Bianca pulled her to her feet and hauled her off toward her bedroom. Jason merely watched them go with a quizzical expression on his face. Once in the bedroom, Bianca queried, "Do we HAVE an ace bandage?" "In the medicine cabinet. No, in the middle drawer of the bathroom cabinet." When Bianca returned, her mother was kneeling on the bed on her hands and knees. "Hold still, Mama." The position made Inez's breasts pendant, but that was probably better than having to compensate for sag when she was vertical. The bandage was limited, too -- she only got four and a half passes while her mother hissed at the pain. "We're not going anywhere." "No? I don't think I can do this! He's..." "Mama, do you like gentle sex?" "Well, yes. I guess so. Why?" "Five dollars says Mister Jason is gentle with you." "What?" "You heard me, Mama. I learned something about Mister Jason five minutes ago -- something that even HE doesn't know." "What?" "I'm not telling. You'll figure it out." Bianca smiled. "Some things won't change; Mister Jason is boss, and if you get stupid, he'll remind you. But I have a feeling it won't matter..." She rubbed her mother's back a bit, then got up and walked out, passing Jason in the sitting room. "She's as ready as she'll ever be. The bandage isn't really big enough..." Jason nodded, rising as she swept out, headed for the Wench's quarters. Inez watched with a 'deer in the headlights' expression as Jason came to stand in the door. The bandage WASN'T big enough -- there was no way that they were cranked down tight. He sighed, not even wondering why he gave a damn. "Roll over, we'll go for missionary." Entering the room, he began divesting himself of his clothing; Inez watched, discovering that he was almost primly neat about hanging things up. Only his dirty socks and underwear got left on the floor, and that got tossed into a corner. He climbed onto the bed and rumbled, "Lift and spread. When I'm in, I'll take over holding them up so you can stabilize your breasts." Inez did as she was told, watching him warily. What was going on? What kind of mood was he in? Disgusted? The answer was 'emotionally drained and resigned'. Jason had been to the mountaintop several times in the last few hours and his customary intensity had left him, burned away with his anger during the recent session with Inez and Ed. The imperative to establish full dominion over Inez met, he was suffering from mild pangs of conscience over the brutality of it -- which was pretty amazing, since Jason was NOT known for his conscience... "Dry, huh?" He started working a finger into her channel, supplementing it with thumb work on Inez's clit. Inez was dumbfounded. She couldn't remember Master EVER ministering to her pleasure, directly. Usually, she just got hers anyway, as a side- benefit of his pounding attack and the fact that pain and pleasure were both sensations, which, treated properly, were additive, rather than detracting from one another. Had Master ever played with her clit? Well, he'd tried to crush it between his fingers a couple of times while she was in mid- orgasm, which had paradoxically blown her mind... But play with it? The nerve junction in question, which, on Inez, could attain a graspable size when suffused with blood, began to thicken and grow as Jason's thumb worked it against its hood. Inez felt a wash of lubrication work its way down her vaginal tunnel from her cervix. She tried to brace herself for the next bit of violence, but her body began to betray her, "Aiy! Ooohhhh!" Jason grinned, shrugged, and employed a technique that he was aware of, but which saw little use -- he leaned down and replaced his thumb's attack on Inez's clitoris with his tongue. Inez surged as if electrified! "Aiyeee! Dios Mio!" Her clit immediately sized up to its maximum, and Jason began drubbing it with his tongue. Inez began to shake; all she could get out was "OoooOOOOOOooooOOOOOOoooo..." In mere seconds, she stiffened, arched, and began pulsing, her mouth wide open as she screamed without sound. Jason chuckled. "I guess you're ready..." He knelt up and applied his cock to her still-pulsing opening. Bracing his hands on her shins to hold her open and spread, he began pushing himself into her in pursuit of his own orgasm. Instead of his usual rapacious attack, Jason took it easy, sliding in and out slowly while Inez recovered. The sensations were different -- perhaps more luxurious than his usual high-speed, friction-based attack. In fact, things appeared to be rapidly approaching the point where he might cum soon -- much more quickly than expected. One of the more seductive joys of Inez was that she basically took care of her own cums; Jason did whatever the Hell he felt like, and she came, anyway. For what had to be the first time since they'd been together, Jason wondered if he was going to bring her another before he got his own... Frankly, he needn't have worried. Inez was LOVING this! The slow strokes allowed her to extend the enjoyment that his tongue had supplied her and begin to rise again... Instinct took over; Jason wanted something more familiar to bolster his control. "Hold your breasts!" Inez started experimenting gingerly with methods to comply with his directive as Jason picked up speed to his normal rate. Both of them almost sighed in relaxation -- this was familiar, something they were used to, something that was guaranteed to see them through to completion. For Jason, things attenuated themselves a bit, ensuring that he would maintain control while attaining his goal. For Inez, the shift brought pain from her abused breasts, but it was a dull thing that was easily added as a layer beneath sharper sensations. The worst of it was controllable by cradling them between her forearms, and she did so, supplementing the bandages in their support; the rest, she took in, accepting it and converting it to pleasure as she would any other abuse Jason delivered during a sexual episode. If anything, it was less than usual... Missionary position wasn't a big one with Jason -- he tended to go doggie, as it was a bit more humiliating and added the easy option of switching holes. This wasn't bad, though -- he was getting good depth and he got to watch Inez's face... That turned out to be big; watching her increasing excitement, flush, the crazed facial expressions that accompanied her final approach brought him along more quickly than expected, and when her eyes rolled up and she began hunching as her orgasm rolled over her, Jason couldn't hold back his. He managed three more hard strokes, plowing deep before the blasts began... Inez felt them; she usually did, as Jason came powerfully. She added a whine to the strained grunt her tight body allowed her at completion, riding a new crest before going boneless as the main shockwave died down. This was just... She found that in her state she didn't have words; unparalleled might have been good, but it wasn't really in her vocabulary. Jason was beat. His arms shook a bit from his position holding Inez's knees up and spread, and this latest explosion had robbed him of all of his residual strength. He let go of her shins, shifting to the bed for support, but his arms weren't going to hold him long... Inez removed this as a problem by clutching him to her, ignoring the complaints of her abused breasts while she wrapped her legs around his. Post-orgasmic languor took hold and they both fell asleep... ------- Bianca and the Wench were talking about the Wench's day. "You missed Mistress' visit, then?" "Mistress?" Bianca was confused. "Well, she's the mother of Master's only child. Frankly, there's a lot more to it; he compares all of his conquests to her, and I think he's decided to have her come here to live." "Why is she elsewhere?" "They're divorced." "But..." "I know. Master is unusual, and apparently Mistress is, too. Divorce didn't keep Master from entertaining himself with her, regularly, and she kept coming back... Theoretically, this is because Master won't allow her to escape, but that's an excuse, I think -- maybe even a convenience..." "I don't remember ever hearing of her visiting before..." The Wench grinned. "That's because she hasn't. But Master is up to something -- apparently, he's decided that his family should live here, now." "But they're divorced!" The Wench nodded. "I've heard Master's reasons for this, and they make sense in a weird sort of way -- something to do with this house being a poor place to raise young children..." She eyed Bianca. "Well, I've managed..." "Thus far. And you've had a chance to sit things out, being a dependent. But Master's child would likely have been in the thick of things, one way or another, at an early age. Mistress, well, she has always more or less answered to Master, but her basic standards were more normal. From what I hear, Master and Mistress were poor when they started out, and Master had no other outlets; being Master's only toy nearly ruined Mistress. Now, though, Master has us and his business empire to distract him, and Miss Nora is grown up to the point that she's having sex..." "Ummmm. So, is this a custody thing?" "I don't think so. Actually, I think Master has decided that he wants Mistress back. Master makes it sound like some kind of grand plan, but I think the whole thing has been more or less instinct. Mistress, despite having been married to Master, is somewhat narrow in her experience. Master, of course, is widely experienced. When things got bad, and Mistress started getting stressed out, he put her out to keep her from having a breakdown. But he never let go, totally; he's always had a grip on her. And you know he employs an army of investigators to keep an eye on them... I gather that he interfered in her raising of Miss Nora just enough to ensure she didn't grow up wearing the same rose-colored glasses Mistress wears, staying mostly out of sight, but making things tough on them occasionally, one way or another, to keep Mistress in line and to make sure that Miss Nora didn't think life was a free ride. On the other hand, I'm sure he's made things appear at the right moment..." Bianca nodded; that made sense... "Anyway, I think he's decided that now that Miss Nora is having sex, he can't ruin her too much, and he's tired of messing with toys when he can have Mistress in the house..." "What if she doesn't want to put up with all that... crap?" The Wench laughed. "Do you really think she has a choice? I GUARANTEE you that Master will find a way to MAKE her move in, whether she likes it or not! In fact, since today's visit didn't go any too well, I'm sure he's up to something right now!" "Oh?" Bianca asked, "What happened?" "I got there late, but when I did, Jason was using your mother's ass on the dining room table. Master said that he'd apparently goaded him to the point that he had to vent himself on her..." Bianca shook her head. "I just left them. Mama came staggering in and said Mister Jason had beaten her pretty severely, but she wasn't showing any marks, really. She was even talking about leaving..." She grinned tightly. "Then Mister Jason walked in. I don't know... There was this look on his face... I don't think another beating was coming -- in fact, I think it was just the opposite. I bet Mama that they were going to have gentle sex and go to sleep." The Wench nodded. "Jason wouldn't have been done with her in the dining room -- he was pretty mad. But it seems like he's hung up on her, so he probably felt bad, after..." "Mama said he had Mister Ed beat her, too -- like he was teaching him..." "Huh. That's weird. But, Honey, sometimes it's not about leaving visible marks. A beating is an exercise in dominance. Master is an expert -- he can cause incredible pain, and not actually injure ANYTHING. How were her breasts?" "They were a major target, apparently. Mister Jason had me help Mama bind them." "Breasts are a serious target. They really can take an incredible amount of abuse, but they are sensitive, and can hurt like Hell. It makes them a perfect place to torture. All someone has to do is squeeze... That's the only reason I'm glad mine are relatively small -- if I had breasts the size of your mother's, they'd might as well have big bulls-eyes painted on them..." "Oh!" "Yeah." The Wench eyed Bianca significantly. "Anyway, this display kind of messed Master's presentation; when he told Mistress that he wanted her to move back in, she freaked out. I can't really say I blamed her. Anyway, she told him 'No way!', but I think she knows it isn't going to go like that. On the other hand, she ALWAYS bucks Master -- which is one of the reasons he enjoys having her so much..." "He's going to win? Why? They're not married..." The Wench eyed Bianca and shook her head. Ah, youth and innocence... "Marriage has nothing to do with it. Master ALWAYS wins -- or as near as makes no difference. I'd be willing to bet that Mistress knows that better than anybody -- she said as much in the car. But it wouldn't be the same for either of them if she didn't give it the old college try. I give it about a week, more or less, depending on what Master does to railroad her into backing down." "In the car?" "Yeah. I rode home with her. Master wanted me to help calm her down a bit. She was all lit up from watching the show, and pissed at Master for making wild suggestions. I gave her a neck rub. It could have been a lot more than that, but she's pretty hung up. Still, it's just as well; if I'd made a move it would have made things worse. She was spitting fire as it was!" the Wench tittered. "Well..." "Yeah, I know -- he's unreasonable. A lot of unreasonable shit goes down around here -- by now that should be pretty clear. It is what it is. Actually, it's pretty good preparation for real life; if you go around expecting everything to be 'fair', you're a sucker and reality is going to pop you in the mouth a few times until you learn. Apparently, that's what Master plans to teach Miss Nora." The Wench tittered again at the look on Bianca's face. "No, no, not like that! Master doesn't do schoolgirls! Have YOU been messed with, aside from this week?" "Nooooo..." "Well, Hon, if Master was into schoolgirls, he'd have tapped YOU a loooooong time ago! You're HOT!" Bianca blushed and the Wench's grin showed every tooth in her head. "Well, how, then?" "Well, there are plenty of us to act as examples, but I imagine Master is going to show Nora a bit of the business." "Oh, okay." That idea was fairly dull, though, so Bianca's mind drifted a bit. "How long do you think it's going to take before..." "... Master notices you? In some ways, he already has, but I don't see him doing anything about it until you're of age, at least." "Not Mister Armand!" The Wench laughed. "Sorry, Hon -- I couldn't resist. Pete, maybe?" Her eyes twinkled. "Well, with your Papa out of the equation, you're a lot more approachable, but if anyone gets too grabby, Sir and Master would probably take turns lifting narrow strips of hide off his back. That being the case, if you want to play with Pete, you'd better be clear about it. Talk to Sir, or Master -- or even Jason -- about it, first." "Huh! I can SEE me doing THAT!" Bianca blushed. "You're just protecting him... Want ME to tell 'em?" "Uuhhh..." "Just making the offer..." The Wench shrugged. "I'll... think... about it." Wouldn't that be a signal that she was a slut? What doors would THAT open in THIS house? "I'm not sure I'm ready yet -- I don't want to declare open season..." "I see your point," the Wench mused, "Still, you don't want anyone coming down on poor Pete like a ton of bricks because YOU invited him to bed..." "Well, if it starts to look like it's gonna happen, I'll try to talk to Mister Charles -- Mister Armand scares me..." Bianca swallowed. "But if something happens suddenly, or I just can't do it, will you backstop me?" "Well, okay, but you know that if you lead him on and then change your mind at the last minute, you're not gonna get much sympathy in- house..." "Well, yeah, but that's pretty stupid anyway. I guess I'll go back and see what's going on at my place. See you later!" "Bye bye, Hon." Bianca needn't have worried; her mother and Mister Jason were sleeping peacefully, and the way Mama was wrapped around Mister Jason, what went on before couldn't have been too bad. Bianca retired to her room, watched a little TV, and dropped off to sleep. ------- Sunday dawned warm, and nowhere near as gloomy as Saturday had been. Nora gave some thought to the idea of a sun dress, but it wasn't QUITE warm enough. Sharon started the laundry, and found herself wondering if there were spy cams in the laundry room (there were -- there wasn't a room in the house that wasn't covered). Nate called to tell Nora that he'd taken delivery of a pair of movie passes and $20 that morning -- someone had slid an envelope under the door. His Mama wasn't home yet, but that was no real surprise -- many times, she stayed out all night on a Friday or Saturday night. She'd probably stagger in later, just coming down. If Big George wanted to come by later and complain about being paid on time, maybe she'd take pity on him if she was still feeling mellow. That'd be George's complaint, anyway; if they were on time, he couldn't come down and get a free piece as a bribe to keep him from kicking them out. With any luck, Mama wouldn't trash the place when she came in; diligent work had it looking halfway decent, for once... The pair settled on a two-o'clock pickup, and Nate hung up. Mary waited until eleven, then called Teddy. "Hey, Teddy." "Mary?" Girls didn't call Teddy. Hell, GUYS didn't call Teddy! "Yeah, it's me. What'cha doing?" "Not much. Cleaning up breakfast." "Oh, okay. Am I too early?" "No, I was looking for an excuse not to do the dishes, yet." Gee, Teddy was pretty domestic! "So, what did you have?" "Oh, ham and eggs. Some biscuits. I like biscuits, even if they're probably bad for you." "Well, they're probably not as bad as eggs -- or honey-baked ham..." "Yeah, I guess. I cook Momma the fake ones, so she gets less cholesterol." "YOU cooked?" Mary was aghast. "Yeah. What's the big deal? I don't mind it. Momma's no chef, so if I want something nice..." Teddy was mildly defensive. "That's pretty cool! I don't do very well -- I mean, I get by with simple stuff, but that's it..." Teddy parked himself in a chair. Momma would frown when she discovered that the dishes weren't done yet, but only after she came downstairs. On a Sunday, he might have another hour, if she dawdled over the breakfast tray he'd brought her... "So, what's up?" "I think we ought to talk." That sounded bad. "What about? Or do I want to know?" "Poppa and I had a long talk yesterday, and there are concerns. Things we need to look at. Look, you want to do this over the phone, or can I get you to come over?" Teddy pondered. If this was what he THOUGHT it was, and she was kissing him off, he should make her do it in person; the goodbye sex he was likely to get would have to last a long time, and if he let her do things over the phone, he wouldn't get it... "Let me try to come by. I'll talk to Momma and call you back, okay?" "Sure, no problem. I'll be here." "Okay. Bye, then." It didn't take long; Teddy was back in ten minutes or so. "Hi, Mary." "Hi." "How's one o'clock?" "That's good with me. Want me to chase something down for lunch?" "Sure, if you want to. We could even bring it forward a bit, then -- I was factoring it in..." "Okay." "Twelve-thirty, then?" Mary needed a shower, among other things. "Okay, see you then." Teddy arrived to find sandwich fixings on the coffee table, and a couple of sodas set out. He still expected the worst, but put a brave face on it, "Hey, Mary, what's up?" Mary pouted, "I don't get a kiss?" Teddy blinked. Was that in the script? "Sure..." He came over to her and bent down to give her a peck. Mary turned it into more than that, but didn't go too far. Teddy plopped himself on the couch and Mary waved toward the food. As he leaned over to start sandwich-making, he asked, pretending to be off-hand, "So, what's up?" "Well, we need to talk about 'us'..." Working hard at continued casualness, Teddy asked, "Which 'us'? You and me? You and Stick? Or the three of us?" "The three of us," Mary replied, "although most of the issue is you and Stick." "Huh?" Teddy wasn't putting THAT together well. He stopped dead. "Finish making your sandwich, and when it's ready, I'll go into it." Mary seemed serious, so he hurried along. When Teddy was ready, she kicked off with, "I kinda like things the way they're shaping up -- what about you?" "Well, yeah," Teddy agreed. "I don't know how long we can keep people from trying to tear it up, but it's great thus far..." "Yeah, well, you put your finger on it," Mary announced seriously. "I'm gonna be brutally frank: There isn't going to be a whole lot of surprise when you come out of the closet." Teddy sighed, but didn't contend the point. "Stick, on the other hand, will be in a world of hurt." "Really?" Teddy thought about it. "Hmmmm, I guess you're right. So we keep it under wraps for as long as we can, I guess..." Mary nodded. "I think so. But the problem is, that might not be too long." "Why? I'm not going to go around telling anyone..." "Face it, Teddy. Stick's no idiot, but he doesn't fit in with your friends. And that probably goes double for you and his. Both of you are real busy justifying hanging out with each other. How long do you figure that's gonna last before somebody starts to get an idea what it is that ties you two together?" "YOU tie us together! That was the plan all along!" "Sure," Mary agreed, "but most folks are gonna wonder why being with me doesn't make you enemies. The big question is still 'Why should you tolerate one another?' When you get right down to it, there are only a couple of possible reasons. Poppa figures that the most likely scenario will be that something will happen and Stick will come to your defense -- and there just won't be any good reason for him to do it, so somebody will get to thinking... Nobody will have to make an announcement; somebody will just put two and two together -- and once one person does, it'll spread like wildfire!" "Ouch! So what do we do?" "Well, stay away from one another, for starters. That may mean that we can't do much in public as a threesome, but it's safer for the pair of you. If we just don't all three hang out together at school, it's a start... What's the official tale?" "It's a friendly competition." "Well, you're probably better off if it's more competition, and less friendly. No need for either of you to go out of your way to badmouth each other -- just don't rush to each other's defense..." Mary mused a bit. "Stick's already taking up for you quite a bit. While it's sweet of him and says good things for our relationship, it risks exposure. I'll talk to him about it." She sighed. "Ultimately, though, it's gonna come out. You'll catch some shit, but most people won't be surprised. But Stick's gonna lose friends, and take a lot of shit. When the time comes, we'll need to be there for him..." "Yeah, I can see that." Teddy eyed Mary sidelong. "You know, I figured that this was about you dumping me." "That'd be the easy way out. If we can afford to ignore what other people think, we can have a fine time, so why get stupid? If it was just the two of you competing over me, I'd figure out which of you was the better deal and make a choice -- but the two of you have your own thing, which makes making choices unnecessary. In fact, if I were to pick one of you, it'd complicate things!" Mary shook her head. "Problem is, anyone else who looks at the whole thing closely will discover the same thing -- that somewhere, there has to be an added dimension. Once your eyes are open, the whole thing is hard to miss." She eyed Teddy for a moment. "So if you thought I was going to break up with you, why did you come over? Why not just insist that we do it over the phone?" Teddy blushed. "I figured you'd give me one last shot..." Mary rubbed his back. "See, Baby? There's hope for you yet! Nobody who is hopelessly homosexual would come looking for one last fuck..." She sighed theatrically. "I suppose I'd better reward such behavior, callous as it is..." She leaned in to kiss him, and her heretofore unoccupied hand began working on his zipper... ------- Chapter 22: The Home Invasion and the Aftermath Ed dropped in on Armand. "Boss, I don't think I should fuck this woman." Armand eyed him. "Why?" "If she gets a look at me, there will be problems, later." "You're not squicked, are you?" "Nah. Hell, Boss, if I was put off by a little recreational violence, I'd be long gone. It's just the complications. If you turn her loose some time and let ALL the boys dick her, I'll be in line with the rest -- but until then, I'll hold off." "Sensible," Armand nodded. "Witherspoon provided me three people, so we're not hampered in any way. But I want you to go in with the first group, and the third to come in later, in order to confuse Sharon as to numbers, understood?" "Sure, Boss." "Okay. It won't hurt you to be a couple of minutes early. Do you have everything you need?" "Yeah, it's not that much, really. Damned computer is the worst of it." Armand chuckled. "Computer literacy won't hurt you." Ed shrugged agreement, and got out of there. ------- Running the laundry pointed up the lack of water fairly quickly; Sharon knew things were broken before Nora left. She was still trying to figure out whether it was worthwhile to try to get the plumber on a Sunday when a knock sounded at the door. Peering through the peep, she picked up a couple of guys in dungarees. She put the chain on and opened the door. "Yes?" "Plumbers." There were two guys on the step in ball caps and dungarees, with name tags. Somebody else was coming up the walk with a couple of buckets, obviously from the van out front. She glanced at the black guy, but the two on the step were glaring at the third guy who was coming up the walk, head down. The white guy said, "Mr. Wilson sent us." "Oh." Apparently, there were benefits to surveillance, after all. Sharon undid the chain and stepped back. The first guy stepped past, digging in a black felt bag -- and then all Hell broke loose! Hands grabbed her from behind, and the black felt bag went over Sharon's head. Struggling turned out to be both useless and painful; two men were MORE than enough to overpower her. One held her in place while the other quickly constrained her hands behind her; attempts to kick one of them got her a good hard slap through the bag, while an attempt to scream brought a punch in the stomach that lost her her air supply. At that point, things got quiet, for a moment... Actually, the place was a hive of activity. Ed stood by, frowning at the casual violence, but it WAS in the scenario. The white guy held up his hand to acknowledge the criticism, while the black unlimbered a laptop and brought it out of hibernation. Ed watched this, then fished his out, and the black operative helped him get set up, too, while his colleague laid out various things that would be used to bind and abuse Sharon. The white guy, who they'd agreed to call Mike (that wasn't his name) motioned to Ed that it was time to head upstairs as the third operative, a younger, blond guy, came through the door and closed it. Ed nodded and headed upstairs with his stuff -- he'd come back down for the laptop in a second, which would give him another look in... Sharon started getting air into her lungs again, and moved from curling in agony to struggling feebly. Wow! That punch hurt! What were these people here for? Maybe it was one of Armand's little games -- well, THIS wasn't any way to get her to move in with him! Wait until she got going on HIM next time! At that point, more immediate concerns came to the fore; 'Mike' started tugging off her slacks! Still blinded by the bag, Sharon tried to fight back, but the men could see, and she couldn't. The black guy -- 'Lou' -- started giving 'Mike' gestured positioning directions based upon instructions coming over the laptop's IM client, as Armand started tuning everyone's positions for optimum video capture. When they were done, 'Lou' rotated the laptop so they could see it, then put his foot in Sharon's stomach -- none too gently -- to hold her in place while 'Mike' wrestled her slacks off. The flip-flops Sharon had been wearing were long gone; 'Mike' stood up and directed 'Lou' into position for a melodramatic ripping away of her panties. Armand, running things from his mansion via IM, chuckled. The pair were good; they were keeping their faces out of the picture, but keeping Sharon well-centered, while maintaining the action and believability. "What do you want?" Sharon asked querulously. Despite the removal of her clothing below the waist, SURELY this couldn't be just about rape... The ripping away of her panties and the quiet chuckles that accompanied it had caused a gasp of shock, but she was still having problems believing that anyone would single her out for a purely sexual attack... "Quiet, Slut!" 'Ted', the blond operative, rasped, while 'Mike' swatted her on her stomach, which had been exposed during the wrestling match, "Speak when you're spoken to!" "Why don' we jus' slit her throat an' be done wit' it?" 'Lou' asked. Ed, coming back downstairs, caught 'Mike' grinning as he held up his finger to his lips. Ed knew what was up, instantly; 'Lou' and he had spoken at length, and 'Lou' was apparently English, educated at Oxford -- the gutter- black accent was pure misdirection. 'Ted' took up the 'explanation': "You like fucking dead bitches? If the Boss just wanted her dead, we could have used a rifle! This cunt belongs to Wilson, and the Boss wants a point made! Besides, when I stick my dick down her throat, I want her to gag, not just have the thing poke out the hole..." "Awright, awright..." Sharon went from JUST fear to stone cold terror! They planned to kill her! Oh, God! She sucked in air to scream... ... And took another punch in the stomach, while 'Ted' roared, "Shut UP, bitch!" 'Mike' pulled her curled body into a more or less vertical position, sitting up and 'Lou' opened a case and extracted an odd-looking pair of goggles. When Sharon apparently had her oxygen supply back, 'Ted' announced, "All right, Slut, this is how it's gonna go. We're gonna take off the bag and fit you with some goggles that will allow you to see a bit of this and that, in certain directions. This is for our benefit -- we want you to be able to see to fuck. If you keep your eyes where they're supposed to be, you might survive the afternoon -- but if you fuck around and get a look at one of us, we'll gut you and leave you to die, slow. Understand?" Sharon opened her mouth to speak -- and took a slap. "A nod will do. Speak when you're told to. You can moan and groan a bit, while we're having fun, but keep it down... Oh, and we own Wilson's cameras for the afternoon, so we're capturing this for posterity. If you're lucky, and survive, maybe your old man will play the video for you -- if not, it'll make an excellent snuff flick..." Sharon didn't know what a 'snuff flick' was, and didn't want to; she nodded. Her 'home training' with Armand kept her from getting too stupid; she knew better than to disbelieve someone who had her under his physical control, or to make useless struggles. "Okay, here we go... look down, and stay that way until the goggles are on." 'Ted' lifted the hood, and 'Lou' fitted Sharon with the goggles from behind. The goggles were odd, kind of a bifocal. If Sharon looked down, she could see pretty clearly, but there was a transition to a total blur before the mid area of the lenses was reached, so that over most of the area of the lens, nothing could be made out clearly. In addition, there was a gradual silvering that dimmed light, making the lenses virtually opaque at the tops. It was amazing how much the combination screwed up the eyes; basically, they were driven to the bottom of the lenses, as nowhere else was comfortable. "Okay," 'Ted' announced, "We're gonna take off the binders, and you're gonna shuck out of the rest of your clothes, like a good slut -- but first, an object lesson..." He took an ordinary mini-maglite and shined it at the goggles. Sharon went immediately, searingly blind; the light, reflected by the silvering multiple times, was shockingly painful. "Aaaaahhhh!" "Do as you're told, Slut! And DON'T touch the goggles, if you want to live!" 'Ted' barked. Lou released the wrist restraints, and Sharon ALMOST reflexively reached for the goggles. 'Lou' grabbed a handful of her blouse and shook her by it. "Get outta this!" Ed sighed. He'd like to watch this, but he had work upstairs... He waved to 'Mike' and headed up. Maybe he'd get done in time for the finish... Sharon was in 'totally docile' mode -- nothing else would do, apparently. She got out of her blouse and bra without fanfare, 'Ted' snatching them away as soon as they were clear. Her dazzled retinas registered nothing at all. 'Lou' dragged her to a carefully placed straight chair, while 'Ted' on her other side, ordered, "Sit!" In a menacing tone, he continued, "So, you're Wilson's main slut, huh? You can answer questions, Slut, if you keep it low." "I'm... his ex-wife..." "Ex, huh? Rumor says there's more to it than that. Rumor says you work for him, and that he still fucks you, regularly. When's the last time you fucked him?" "Uuuh..." 'Ted' grabbed Sharon's left breast and squeezed. "Aaaaaahh! W-wednesday!" 'Ted' nodded to 'Lou', who reached around from behind and crushed her right breast. "Liar! You were at his place yesterday!" "Uuuuuuhhhh! W-we didn't have sex! Just lunch!" "Pretty cozy for an ex-wife..." 'Ted' glanced up at the laptop, where the instant messenger said one word -- 'Time'. 'Mike', also watching, nodded and swiped everything off the coffee table. "Get up, Slut." 'Ted' grabbed her wrist and jerked her from the chair, but 'Lou' took charge of her at that point, guiding her to the table. At that point, there was a gestured discussion wherein 'Mike' made suggestions for table positioning and Armand replied by IM. Finally, they moved a chair and rotated the table forty-five degrees, which gave the cameras a head-on, a tail-on, and a side view, all offset a bit to keep the men themselves from obscuring the action. Sharon, still seeing spots, caught hints of movement and sounds, but couldn't figure out exactly what they were up to. 'Lou' had a wrist in each big hand, though, so she didn't attempt to go anywhere. There were three of them and one of her, blind -- all she could do was cooperate and hope to survive. 'Lou' let go of one wrist and pushed her to her knees, then forced her flat across the coffee table with a hand on her neck. 'Mike', faced with a question that couldn't be properly gestured, went to the keyboard and typed 'Where?' 'Ass' was the reply. 'Mike' shrugged and unzipped his coverall. Meanwhile, 'Ted' kept Sharon's attention with questions. "You work for him, right? What do you know about his west-coast distribution network?" "N-nothing." "Don't be coy. It'll hurt you." He slid a hand between where her breasts mashed against the table. Sharon, instinctively, raised up a bit, and he slid the hand to the right, collecting a handful of left breast. Sharon's realization that she'd screwed up came only an instant before the crushing pain began. She started a scream, but 'Ted' terminated it with a slap that rocked her head. Tears poured. The pain! Oh, God, the pain! "Now, tell me what I want to know!" "Oh, God, ogodogod -- I only do charity work!" "Right!" 'Ted' let 'Mike' handle things; 'Lou' moved to his left (Sharon felt a shift in his grip on her neck) and 'Mike' knelt up and began pushing his cock against her cringing asshole. "Aaaauuuuggghhhh! Noooooooo!" Sharon wailed, as what felt like a telephone pole pressed itself irresistibly against her sphincter. "So start talking!" "I don't draw a paycheck, or anything! I only see him every couple of weeks! I just find places where he can make charitable contributions for taxes!" Sharon wailed. Sharon's bunghole was losing the fight. There were a couple of reasons for this, the primary one being experience. Sharon's experience with anal sex -- even dry anal sex -- was fairly lengthy; she knew instinctively what to do about it and reacted more or less without thought. 'Mike' popped through after a fairly short struggle, and began sawing back and forth, hawking and spitting at the point where his cock was being crushed by her ring to add a bit of lubrication. A fuck like this always felt like all of the hairs on your dick were being pulled out... "So you don't know anything about his business? I doubt that..." "Ow! Ow! Oooohhhh! N-not a lot! I get told... Aah! Business plans, so... Ouch! Charity contributions can help lubricate things..." God! Sharon was wishing for lubrication! "Bribes," 'Ted' grunted. "Uuhh! Maybe! But it's -- ugh! -- not direct! Nothing goes straight into someone's pocket! Aah! Armand gets the charitable contribution and the politician involved gets the benefit of a pet project moving forward... Uuhh! Usually, Armand gets something HE wants, too -- a building permit, or something..." Nodding was a waste of time; Sharon could see "Ted's" shoes, and that was it at this point. Her vision was picking up, but her head was down and the goggles were impeding vision in every direction except toward the floor. 'Ted' grunted, "So getting you to talk is a waste of time -- might as well use your mouth for something else..." He nodded to 'Lou', who released her neck so he could shuck out of his dungarees. 'Ted' readied a foot to place on her neck, but Sharon merely rose up on her elbows, hanging her head and concentrating on the violation of her ass. Experience with Armand made this less unpleasant than it would have been to an anal virgin; Sharon was adapting rapidly, which made things easier on both of them. Moments later, the next phase began; a hand reached under her chin and pulled her head up. Suddenly, her vision was filled by the sight of a big, black cock. "Suck, bitch!" 'Lou' hissed. Almost two decades of submissive experience betrayed her; she opened her mouth, and he began jamming it in. Sharon began to suspect that the goggles magnified where they allowed vision, since the cock certainly didn't seem to be remarkably bigger in her mouth. The truth was that her perceptions were somewhat distorted; 'Lou' wasn't a 'black superman', but was healthily-sized, coming in at about eight inches -- which wasn't appreciably different than Armand. In fact, of the three of them, 'Mike' was the largest; the cock he was sawing in and out of Sharon's rectum topped nine inches. 'Lou' went straight for a gag fuck, though, deliberately rushing Sharon, poking his cock down her throat. Sharon tried to keep up, but 'Lou' was taking no prisoners and she began to retch. 'Lou' waited until she was certain to vomit, then hooked a trash can over with his foot. "Puke, bitch!" Sharon obliged him -- she really didn't have any choice! She heaved into the can again and again before she managed to regain control. "Good," 'Lou' grunted. "Save us trouble later." While Sharon scrubbed at her mouth weakly with one hand, 'Ted' noisily dashed up the stairs. The effort was deliberate -- he wanted Sharon to remember someone going up. "How's it going?" he asked Ed. "Okay. Paint won't be dry by the time we pull out." "How long, you figure?" "I want another half-hour, but can probably do it in fifteen minutes." Ed related. "We'll try to give you twenty-two." "Where are you?" Ed asked. "Been messing with her head," 'Ted' replied. "Pretty soon, we'll shift to making her enjoy it." Ed nodded and went back to painting. When 'Ted' got back downstairs, 'Lou' was shoving a glass of water in Sharon's hand. "Drink, bitch. I might want to stick my tongue down your neck while I fuck you." Sharon took it in shaky hands, managing to just barely get it to her lips in spite of the steady pounding her ass was taking from 'Mike'. She swallowed a bit, and spat out a bit before 'Lou' took back the glass. "Now you ain't got nothin' to heave, take the cock, bitch!" 'Lou' again presented his meat, and somehow, Sharon managed to take it in, despite her upset stomach. The hand behind her head and the one under her chin were pretty persuasive -- besides, the fight was leached out of her completely; vomiting left her as weak as a kitten. "You gonna take it all, bitch. Keep it comin'." Sharon was awash; 'Mike' had been pounding her ass for several minutes, so she was beyond pain. The cock 'Lou' was pushing into her mouth was now familiar, and the demands it was making of her were not unexpected. Sharon started drifting toward something -- Oh, God! -- resembling pleasure... Something was calling, a state of mind where pain and humiliation would cause her to yield herself, a state that begat pleasure. All she needed was a trigger... 'Ted' decided that Ed was just going to have to operate in the time allotted. "Roll her on her back." 'Lou' stepped back, and 'Mike' bent over her, reaching under her armpits to lever her up and rotate the pair of them as a system. 'Lou' caught him, bracing him until he was lying on the coffee table lengthwise, Sharon's ass still impaled on his cock. 'Lou' covered Sharon's eyes. "Goggles gonna be worthless in this position..." "All she's gonna see is your balls, Man," 'Ted' chided. 'Lou' grunted, and dropped Sharon's head over Mike's shoulder. "Open up, slut!" Sharon found herself with a mouthful of cock -- again! This time, with her head back, 'Lou' went deeper than ever -- but it seemed to be less of a problem... 'Ted' provided the spark that set Sharon off, lifting her legs and sliding his cock into her, surprised that she wasn't dry. Sharon wasn't surprised -- after all, Armand had trained her to relish such things. This... This was pleasure. The cock in her ass wasn't moving much, and she was used to it, anyway. She was giddy from trying to breathe around the black man's cock, but it wasn't awful, or anything -- and now she had a cock where cocks belonged... 'Ted' was deliberately doing his job, making sure that he bashed her clitoris with every stroke, and now Sharon was in a fine, submissive frenzy of humiliation and acquiescence. She was a cum dumpster -- it was her new role in life... She would take the cum from each of these, and any others that happened to be there... The black drove his thick black cock into her mouth, his heavy balls slapping against the goggles and forcing his heavy scent into her nostrils. The young guy drove his cock into her pussy, bashing her clit with his pubic bone, and the older guy kept managing to get short strokes in her ass with his big cock... Sharon felt the wave coming, lifting her... 'Ted' took her hips and started moving her. 'Mike' got his hands under her so she wasn't rubbing his skin off and the pair of them drove her back and forth, getting them both a stroke. 'Lou' backed off, not driving so deep -- the whole thing just didn't synchronize adequately for him. "Suck the head, bitch -- I'll wait on these guys, and then I'll try to put a baby in you!" Sharon did as she was told; in her current frame of mind, there wasn't any choice, anyway... 'Lou' laughed, and started mauling her already rock-hard nipples. "You lovin' this shit, ain't you, slut?" 'Mike' came first. He'd been at it the longest, and when 'Ted' initiated the new stroke, he could feel the other man's cock through the membranes separating Sharon's pussy and her ass. "Gonna get it!" he grunted, and started spewing into Sharon's colon. That did it -- Sharon went off, gurgling around 'Lou', "Hrrrgh! Hrrrgh! Hrrrgh!" Her hips jumped and her legs thrashed while her pussy and her ass milked their intruders, extending the climax 'Mike' was enjoying. 'Ted' rode through it; when 'Mike' let Sharon back down on his chest, he started really pounding, looking for his own cum, now that Sharon had hers. Sharon beat him, however; now that the door was open, she was a wild woman! She couldn't see anything but the black guy's balls, so she closed her eyes, enhancing her other senses and bring the work 'Ted' was doing into sharper focus. She started moaning around the cock in her mouth, adding to the pleasure 'Lou' was getting. There was a roaring in her ears, and sparks before her eyes, and it looked like she was going to cum AGAIN... She actually reached up and grabbed the black's hips, forcing him deeper to get more guilty pain/pleasure as the sparks escalated to a full-fledged fireworks display! 'Ted' let her have it, pounding her three more strokes while she hunched and pulsed before burying himself in her and pouring gout after gout into her. In a moment, all was quiet; 'Ted' climbed off and came around to Sharon's head. 'Lou' backed off obligingly and 'Ted' ordered, "Clean me off!" Sharon started sucking, but it didn't last long; 'Mike' surged, rolling her over and climbing off, while 'Lou' circled around to the business end. Sharon found herself back on her hands and knees, not certain how she got there. She didn't get any time to worry about it, though, as 'Ted' presented his gooey cock again and grunted, "Finish up, slut!" The goggles fixed it so that 'Ted', below the waist, was all that she could see -- but she could feel hands on her hips -- and in a moment, a cock nosing between her labia. She was going nowhere, so, it did no good to resist. This time, though, she didn't try to engulf the thing, as whoever was behind her set up a pounding pace. Instead, she licked and sucked at the shaft and pubes, vacuuming 'Ted' while steadying herself with a hand on his hip. 'Lou' was going like a house afire, and talking trash in his faked gutter accent, which provided Sharon the necessary clue to who he was, "Gonna fill your slut cunt with MY cum, too! Get your ass pregnant -- make you spend nine months wonderin' what color kid is gonna pop out! You can sit around sweatin' bullets, but I KNOW! Little bastard's gonna be black, an' he gonna be fuckin' his slut mama at twelve!" Well, if you're gonna rape a woman, you might as well indulge yourself with a little fantasy, he reflected. Sharon took the abuse in the spirit it was given; she'd been on the Pill forever, but it was easy to get sucked into the whole impregnation fantasy. At this point, she wasn't evaluating things any too objectively, anyway. Instead, what flickered through her mind was 'Oh, Gawd, Armand's gonna KILL me!' But she was going to cum again, and with her luck, it'd be just in time for her womb to suck black spend through her cervix like a milkshake through a soda straw. 'Mike distracted her at this point, by popping 'Ted' on the shoulder. 'Ted' took a look at the problem, grinned, and backed off. Sharon hadn't exactly been prepared for anal sex, and 'Mike' had plowed deep; as a result, he was a mess! "Clean THIS!" he grunted, shoving a shit- smeared dick in her face. Sharon took a look and her stomach churned, but 'Mike' wasn't taking 'No' for an answer. After a second's hesitation got her a slap, Sharon opened up and took the mess in, distractedly thankful that she'd already emptied her stomach. She found that she couldn't comfortably get at the base -- was this one bigger? -- but that wasn't safe, anyway, with the black man plowing away in her pussy, throwing her forward with every stroke. Sharon was backing to meet him, more to keep from being pushed off the table than anything else -- but it was good, very good... "Ease up!" 'Mike' complained, "Bitch can't work!" He was kind of angry, in that he'd been trying to minimize talk, but 'Lou' was going nuts in there... 'Lou' grinned and backed off. "Might as well make it last." He popped Sharon on the ass. "After all, this ain't rape, is it, Slut? Can't rape the willing. Bitch gonna cum again in a minute..." Sharon worked diligently at her disgusting task, trying to close her ears to the taunts. The worst thing about them was their ring of truth! She'd already cum twice, and number three was just around the corner, held off by the awful thing she had to do with her mouth and her black tormentor's slowdown. On the other hand, the humiliation of her task, the foul comments, and the slaps that were beginning to rain on her ass were building a bubble in her that when released would be HUGE. Recognition of this fact brought another masochistic flash... 'Ted' nudged 'Mike'. "How was the ass?" "Good." Mike contented himself with the monosyllable. "Stick it in her ass!" 'Ted' urged 'Lou'. "Messy in there," 'Lou' replied. " 'Sides, I promised the bitch a bastard." He slapped Sharon on the ass. "Didn't I, Slut?" Sharon nodded distractedly, and went back to cleaning 'Mike' up, suctioning glop from his pubic hairs. It was nasty, awful -- but it was hers, she knew. And if another cock invaded her ass, she'd have to do it again. Better to let the black man have his way... "You done?" Ted asked, a minute later. 'Mike' took a look at progress, shrugged, and nodded. "I want to try her throat." This kind of went by Sharon. She'd have agreed that she was done, if asked; the cock had started tasting like a cock -- instead of shit on a stick -- a bit back... All she knew was that the cock she'd been cleaning withdrew and an earlier one replaced it. Well, it was clean, except for the goo that drizzled from the tip. Armand's did that... Her mind drifted -- conscious thought was really beyond her. There was a cock in front of her, and one pounding her from behind -- that was her universe. Add the occasional swat on the ass... "Hey, I don't want to have to fuck around while you get yours!" 'Lou' complained. "Let's roll her over again, then. She'll be more stable for both of us!" 'Ted' suggested. "Awright." 'Lou' backed off, and 'Ted' pushed her over, without warning. Sharon, who hadn't really heard what they were planning was taken totally by surprise, going flat on her back on the floor and losing her breath. The men took advantage of her inability to react to pick her up by the knees and shoulders and plop her back onto the coffee table on her back with her head hanging over the edge. By the time she could pay attention to her surroundings again, she was watching a cock go past on the way to her mouth. Below, someone was slapping at her legs -- the black guy? Get your knees up, bitch! Hold 'em!" Sharon did as she was told, and a cock plowed into her vagina. "Suck, you stupid cunt!" 'Ted' roared, pushing his cock into her lips. Sharon did as she was told, more or less automatically. She knew how to suck a cock -- or, more correctly, to give a mouth-fuck, because that's really what it was -- from long practice with Armand; instinct took over and she tightened her lips and sucked enough to get her cheeks in to give the man more to work with while buffering her teeth. 'Ted' used her as a receptacle, sliding his pulsing meat in and out, looking for that perfect stroke. Meanwhile, 'Lou' was going to town, pounding hard, slamming his pubic bone into Sharon's clit once a second while his shaft worked her 'G' spot. This was it -- 'Lou' realized he only had a moment, so he started taunting her again, "Here it comes, slut. I'm gonna shoot my juice in there with my buddy's, and you'll have to wonder 'til my bastard pops out which of us did ya! THEN you'll know -- and it'll be too late! You take good care of the little shit, now! Remember me when he's chewin' these!" 'Lou' dropped his head and bit the Hell out of Sharon's left nipple -- almost drawing blood. Sharon screamed and surged -- and came, hugely, the pain a trigger of the pleasurable backlash. That brought 'Lou' off -- he slammed her twice more, against the friction of her pulsing vagina and blasted semen into her. Sharon lost control of her body; parts of it were moving frantically, and parts weren't moving at all -- nothing was under any kind of control. Her mind was awash with the pleasure that had erupted in the wake of the incredible pain. One of the places that failed to keep up was her mouth -- 'Ted' pulled his cock out and slapped her, harshly, to regain her attention. "Suck, bitch!" Sharon tried, but it was HARD -- things just weren't working that well... 'Mike' tapped 'Lou' on the shoulder jerked his head toward the stairs, and tapped his watch. Time was getting away from them. 'Lou' nodded. "Gimme that duct tape willya?" 'Mike' tossed it at him and headed for the stairs to check on Ed. Ed was sitting on the third stair, watching things through the railing and wiping a paint brush. "Some show," he murmured. "Yeah," 'Mike' agreed quietly. "I've been on this detail longer than I care to remember, and now I'll likely be posted elsewhere for a while. But it's quite an ending..." "A 'climax', so to speak?" Ed grinned. He rose to go collect his buckets. 'Mike' followed. "Yeah. Watching her has been pretty dull -- outside of episodes with your boss in his office, she wouldn't even touch herself before this week. Who'd've seen THIS coming?" Ed looked around, satisfied. Painting and plastering hadn't taken THAT long, fortunately. The holes had paint over wet stuff, but it'd hold, if it wasn't screwed with too much. He'd run a hair dryer over it momentarily, but he REALLY didn't have time to do things right. To mess with Sharon's head, Armand had had him go around three or four places and use a brad to poke a neat hole in the plaster, theoretically simulating a new installation. The whole idea was to foster paranoia, apparently... The pair picked up Ed's work buckets and descended the stairs. Sharon was still on her back, sucking cock. 'Lou' was methodically duct taping her to the table top. Ed got a look and whispered to 'Mike', who directed, "Make sure her legs are spread." Ed ran back upstairs and into Sharon's room, where he fished in the toy box -- Armand had briefed him on its location -- coming up with the more substantial of the vibrators. When he got back downstairs, he gave it to 'Lou', who grinned, finished taping Sharon's left calf to the table leg, and then pushed the vibe into Sharon's unprotected twat. Sharon's immediate reaction was an exhausted mental, 'Now, what?' 'Lou' didn't turn the thing on immediately, so it could have been anything... She still had her hands, but she was taped to the table at the hips and just below her breasts, her legs spread to tape off the calves to the table legs. All she could do was suffer whatever indignities they heaped upon her and suck, while somebody, presumably the guy she was sucking, mauled her breasts. More than anything else, he was fucking her throat... Ed went out, and 'Mike' followed. "We need to get the goggles, 'Lou' observed. "I've got an idea," 'Ted' wheezed. He was getting close, his face reddening. "Do her hands..." 'Lou' took Sharon's arms, one at a time, taping the forearms to the table legs. Sharon, her last control over the penetration of her throat gone, suffered while 'Ted' poured it on. "Dazzle her," he directed. 'Lou' flashed the maglite into the goggles, and Sharon, taken off-guard, was again blinded. 'Ted' punched her throat a few more times before the tickle in his balls became intolerable, then withdrew and, snatching the goggles off, began painting Sharon's face with cum, concentrating with the eyes. 'Lou' laughed, delighted, taking the goggles and stowing them in their case. 'Ted', deciding that coverage wasn't quite adequate on Sharon's right eye, picked up some semen from her cheek and smeared it there, then stuck his finger in her mouth. "Clean this!" Sharon did as she was told, fearfully. What was coming next? If they were going to kill her, now was the time... 'Ted' climbed into his coverall while 'Lou' cleaned up the scene. "Ready?" "One sec." 'Lou' glanced around and found two votive candles. He jammed one between Sharon's teeth and set the other on her bare belly, and lit them both. "I'd be real careful if I was you, Bitch," he cautioned. "You set a fire, you'll be the first thing burned!" Going to the other end of the table, he turned on the vibrator, duct taped it to her pudenda using a strip he'd set aside for the purpose, and waved at the result, soliciting approval from 'Ted', who laughed and took several pictures from different angles with a digital camera. That done, the pair let themselves out, joining 'Mike' and Ed in the van, and drove away. Sharon lay there, confused. She couldn't see, and she was immobilized. The thing in her teeth tasted like wax -- a candle? Ohhh, Lord, was it lit? And if it was, was there another on her belly? God knew when Nora was going to get home! She HAD to see! She started alternately working at her gummy eyelids... Was that glow just the spots before her eyes from the flash, or something else? Armand called Jason. "Where are you?" "About two blocks out, Sir." "Well, hold up until I call you. Witherspoon's men outdid themselves, and I want Sharon to stew for a bit." "Yessir." "Get very close, though. There is a potential for problems..." "Yessir. We'll stop a block down." Armand hit Witherspoon's speed-dial. "Witherspoon? Wilson. Have that bunch done something like this before? No? Well, they did a bang-up job! I'm deeply impressed! See to it that they get a five hundred dollar bonus, apiece!" As Armand hung up and returned his attention to the screen, the candle in Sharon's mouth announced its status; since her head was back, it was tilted, and the wax from the burning dribbled down the side of the candle and onto her upper lip. Sharon, surprised, surged against her restraints, which threatened to tip the candle on her belly. 'Oh, SHIT!' she thought frantically, raising her head a bit. Her eyes stung, but they were clearing in places -- just enough to see how the candle was oriented. Thinking frantically, she skinned back her lips and tried to blow it out -- but the candle body shielded the flame somewhat. What next? Whip her head around? That worked, but she got wax on both cheeks. She waited a moment to make sure it was out, then spit it out, explosively. Next, it was time to look at her belly... Her neck muscles were tired from having her head dropped over the table edge, but she HAD to see... The fact that her forearms were taped to the table legs made the fight even harder, but she managed to raise her head -- and there it was, another lit candle! This one hadn't dripped yet, because it was almost level, but her belly muscles were ridged from the effort to raise her head! Soon, it was going to drip, anyway... "Jason?" "Sir?" "Go!" Armand had decided that Sharon was either going to screw up, or she would be able to put out the other candle, and he wanted neither a serious incident, nor to foster a feeling of accomplishment in her. Now was the time, before she gathered herself... Sharon was just trying to raise her head again when a series of tire shrieks and squeals occurred out front. Ten seconds later the door opened, and another Witherspoon operative cautiously stuck his head through, then entered, followed immediately by Jason and two others. "Secure the house," Jason directed, and stuck his head back out the door. "Get the forensics team and a medic!" He circled around to Sharon's head and asked, "Sharon, are you all right?" "I-I think so..." "Here." He maneuvered himself so that Sharon could brace her head on his thigh. Two other operatives came through the door, and he added, "Take some pictures for the investigation, so we can turn her loose." A detective came over and took several pictures of Sharon's predicament, focusing on bindings, the candle, and her smeared face. In the process, he got a couple of shots of the whole effect, including Jason's tight grin. This had to be the funniest escapade he'd ever been in on and he was having trouble acting concerned; fortunately, Sharon's eyes were still goopy... A couple of detectives donned rubber gloves and began cutting away the tape; one made a production of collecting a semen sample from Sharon's face. "Did they say who they were?" Jason asked, leaning over to snuff out the candle. "No." Now that the immediate danger was over, Sharon was more mortified than anything else; there were a half-dozen men working at the fringes of her captive body, it seemed like. She had semen oozing out of every opening, and still couldn't move a muscle, but at least someone was wiping her eyes... "Uuuuhhh, could someone turn off the vibrator?" Jason's eyebrows went up. He pulled on a set of rubber gloves and took a crack at the duct tape. "This is going to hurt..." It did. The tape came off her labia fairly easily, but it seemed to have stuck to every hair on her crotch! If Jason had peeled downward, it might have improved things, too, but he pulled from the bottom up, and the effect was a makeshift bikini waxing, thinning Sharon's pubic bush by about thirty percent, right up the middle. Sharon let out a screech and Jason managed an insincere "Sorry!" before reaching down to extract the gooey vibrator. "Better get samples," he directed. Circling around to stare at Sharon's crotch he added, "The ass, too." "It's okay, really!" Sharon was cherry red. "Must be thorough," Jason demurred. An operative knelt down and started taking samples with swabs. Since she wasn't free, Sharon had no choice but to endure it. Jason went on, "The surveillance team on watch reported that they thought the system had been compromised about a half-hour ago, then we lost THEM, too. The backup team found that they'd been incapacitated quite professionally, but we were already alerted. What did they do?" "Ummm, they asked me a few questions, but mostly they... raped me." Sharon related, hesitantly. Jason nodded. "Armand makes enemies, periodically. This was probably meant as an object lesson. It's one of the big reasons we installed the surveillance system in the first place..." He mused a moment. "They apparently compromised it, putting in loops of innocuous video. How long were they here?" "I don't know. What time is it?" Sharon was just getting into the emotional aftermath, shaking, her mind playing out a dozen ways she could have ended up dead. Obviously, the primary one would have been accidentally setting herself on fire... "Three twenty." "About an hour? They just left a couple of minutes before you got here..." Somebody freed up an arm, and she started trying to get it to function. "How many were there?" "Uhhhh, at least three. I think there were a couple more," Sharon related. "How do you know?" Jason asked. This was supposed to appear to be an interrogation, but the REAL purpose was to embarrass Sharon -- and it was working... "I... had to take three at once..." Sharon couldn't look at ANYBODY. "THAT must have been new..." Jason observed neutrally. "Um, yeah..." Someone came down from upstairs. "That mess in her room is all fixed! Even repainted!" "What?" Jason whirled, then turned back to Sharon. "Are you SURE it was only an hour?" "Nora left at two... It was a few minutes after that!" Sharon became defensive. "Did YOU paint your room?" "No." "Why?" Jason made a production out of thinking about it. "Go over the place for new equipment." He shook his head. "Of course, we'll probably never know unless we tear the whole place apart..." By now, Sharon could sit bolt upright. "If you're watching all the time, what took you so long?" she ranted. Her emotional control was slipping -- the afternoon just kept getting tougher and tougher... "We picked it up pretty quickly, but you live clear across town..." Jason muttered defensively. "That's MY fault?" "Well... Armand HAS offered... I imagine that's why they acted; their window of availability was closing." "So I could get ogled here or ogled there? Where it's more convenient?" Jason looked away. "Actually, Armand is virtually the only user of the surveillance system at the mansion... Here, there's a dedicated team..." Sharon's hackles rose. "ALL THE TIME?" "Well, we missed a few minutes a little bit ago..." He showed his teeth. Sharon wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to throw things. But most of all, she wanted all that tape off! "Will you hurry up?" she spat at the detective untaping her right leg. "I'm trying to preserve fingerprints," came the response. "They were wearing gloves! Like yours! Now GET ME OUT OF HERE!" Jason nodded fractionally and the operative and his opposite number who was working on the other leg picked up the pace. While they got the stuff off, it wasn't any too pleasant. In the meantime, Jason pressed, "Tell me what happened. From the beginning." "Ow!" Sharon took a breath. "The water was off. Three guys showed up, claiming to be plumbers. They said Armand had sent them. Since you guys are watching all the time, I figured that might be reasonable." "What did they look like?" Jason interrupted. "One was black. One was an older white guy. The third guy was white, but I didn't see his face at all -- he had his head down. Actually, I didn't get much of a look at any of them, because the older guy was turned away. I let them in, and the next thing I knew, I had a bag over my head and my hands behind me!" "Then what happened?" "Well, they shucked me out of my clothes and used me for a punching bag any time I did anything or opened my mouth. Then they took the bag off and put these weird goggles on me. Ouch!" "Goggles?" Jason frowned. He hadn't been briefed on this little wrinkle... "Uh huh. They were, ummm, mostly out of focus. The only place things weren't hopelessly blurred was at the very bottom. And they were mirrored at the top -- they kept blinding me by flashing a light into them." "Huh. Why bother?" "Well, I guess the bag got in the way," Sharon replied. "They said they wanted me to see some things -- they wanted me to see their... cocks going into me, for instance. But not their faces..." "Did it work?" "Yes. I could only see stuff down here clearly," Sharon replied, holding a hand a few inches out from her breasts, which reminded her of her state. "Hey, could I get a wrap?" Jason looked up at one of the operatives, "Go get her a robe or something." He turned back to Sharon, "Go on." "They were pretty careful. I might be able to pick their... members out of a lineup, but not their faces. Any time they needed to be in sight, they blinded me with a light first. And they told me if I got caught trying to see one of them, they'd kill me..." "Did you believe them?" Sharon nodded. "They said this was an object lesson -- that they were getting the whole thing on video to give Armand. But that they could make it a snuff flick. What's a snuff flick?" Jason, voice neutral, replied, "It's a video with violent sexual content. One of the participants is killed -- snuffed -- during the sex act. One variant is where the woman is strangled during the sex act so that her struggles add to the male's pleasure. But there are other, more bloody variants; the common denominator is that one of the participants ends up dead." Sharon started to shake. "They DID try to kill me! That candle thing... I could have set myself on fire!" Jason shook his head. "I'm pretty sure they expected us to arrive fairly quickly. That was to keep you, um, entertained, more than anything else." "It worked," Sharon said dully. "Look, will you guys be done soon? I need to go somewhere quiet and scream, or something..." An operative showed up with a robe, and she draped it over her nakedness; they were still freeing one leg. Armand walked through the door. He'd gotten most of this -- the audio, anyway -- in the car on the way over via a cell phone hookup. He'd review the video later. The Witherspoon operative working on Sharon's right calf looked up, recognized his employer, and stopped screwing around. Sharon screeched as the last of the tape came off. "What have we got thus far?" he asked Jason, striding to Sharon and lifting her to her feet. Sharon found herself hugging her ex-husband, an uncommon occurrence. But it felt good... "Looks like Staffordshire, Sir. I think they've been planning for a while, but put things in gear after yesterday. There were at least four, maybe six. Three concentrated on abusing Sharon while one or more did things upstairs." "Like what?" "Plastering and painting recent damage to Mrs. Wilson's bedroom," a detective replied. "We can only assume that it was in aid of camouflaging the installation of other equipment -- although we haven't found any yet." Armand nodded. "Find it." He looked at Sharon. "Apparently, I'm going to need to move you out of here, anyway. The house is apparently no longer safe." "I'm not going to move into that pleasure palace of yours!" Sharon ranted. "It's bad enough that I get peeped on twenty-four hours a day, here!" "Internal surveillance at the mansion isn't as... stringent," Armand replied mildly. "I can put you in a hotel, but it would mean reserving and occupying a block of up to," he thought a moment, "twenty-seven rooms. And putting men IN the suite with you, since there would be no internal sensors. Even I can't afford THAT for long... The rooms I have set aside for you in the north wing of the mansion would be a lot more private." "I'll be all right here..." Jason interjected, "Not so, Ma'am. If I were the perpetrator, the only way to top this incident would be to repeat it, to prove us powerless. Since we have no idea what was done in your room, we can only assume that they have additional tools to bring to bear. And now that we're alerted. they can expect to have less time, and therefore accomplish less. The threat to you under such conditions increases exponentially. Last time, a snuff video was an alternate solution; next time, it may be the primary goal..." Sharon shivered, and Armand squeezed her a bit. She looked down, embarrassed; here she was, ranting and raving about how horrible Armand was, and she had both arms around him... What kind of message did THAT send? But she couldn't let go... "Oh, all right," she grumbled, "but..." But what? She knew that once she was under that roof, there would be no going back... She sighed. "Has anyone checked on Nora?" "She and Mr. Adams are at the movie, as advertised. They have a surveillance team, which is itself under surveillance to preclude their being removed from the picture without warning," Armand rumbled. "This has been an interesting episode -- but one we should try to avoid repeating." He turned to Jason. "Get a team in here. Evacuate the bedrooms. They can come back for the rest, later." He stepped to the door, bringing Sharon with him effortlessly. "Wench!" "Master?" Felicia was out of the car in her cloak in an instant. "See to..." Armand paused, and a look of amusement flickered across his face, "your Mistress' needs. We'll be leaving in a moment, but I need to speak to Jason and the detectives." He pushed Sharon gently toward her, muttering, "See? Already, you have a personal servant..." The Wench took Sharon's hand and drew her along to the limo. "Mistress? Something has happened, but Master wasn't forthcoming..." "I was... attacked. I don't want to talk about it." "Okay. Are you hurt?" Sharon thought about it. "Uh, no, not really..." Fact was, nothing much that was done to her was any worse than rough sex with Armand -- there had just been a lot of it in a short time. "I feel kind of... weird... about it. Maybe we'll talk later..." "Okay. Do you hurt anywhere?" "No, no. I'm fine. Not too well-dressed..." Sharon patted the Wench's hand. "About the same as me?" The Wench flashed open her cloak; as usual, she was nude beneath. Sharon found it in her to laugh. "Pretty much. Your outfit is a bit dressier than mine." "Want to switch?" "No, that's all right. I'm a bit shorter and wider than you are." "Yeah, well, that might help a bit. I bet you can take more of a beating," the Wench observed. "You have bigger tits, and could take more action than me. In some ways, I'm just a display piece..." Sharon watched Armand coming up the walk. "Don't tell me that you don't get any sex with YOUR job!" "Oh, I get used pretty regularly, but I tend to wear out. When the guys doubled up on me in blowjob practice the other day, I only managed to carry the ball a couple of times..." Hmmmm. Maybe the Wench WAS the person to compare notes with... "Let's continue this conversation, Felicia -- but out of HIS earshot." She nodded toward Armand, who was just reaching the limo. "Okay. I'm literally at your service..." the Wench winked and grinned. Armand had lingered just enough to fix Jason with a glance. "This escapade has exceeded expectation; as a result, we'll need to perpetuate the illusion and tighten the security around it. Get things moving, then meet me at the mansion -- and get Witherspoon on the phone. I'll debrief you and see where we need to tighten things up." "Yes Sir." Jason went back to his arrangements and Armand strode to the car, which pulled off as soon as he got in. ------- Nora's cell phone rang as soon as she and Nate exited the theater -- and it wasn't an accident, by any means. "Hello?" "Nora, have Mr. Adams bring you home to the mansion," her father's voice ordered. "Why, Daddy? Did Mom cave already?" Armand chuckled, "Well, yes, but that's due to the fact that her visitors this afternoon were VERY convincing -- certainly more so than anything I'D planned..." "Daddy? What are you telling me? Or NOT telling me?" "Apparently, a competitor saw an opportunity to make an object lesson of your mother and paid her a visit, taking a rather liberal amount of her hospitality. It made my original plans for the afternoon modest, by comparison." "Daddy, speak English!" "There was a home invasion. Several men did some rather strange things, including a prolonged enjoyment of your mother's charms, apparently in an effort to annoy me." "Is Mom okay?" "She is physically, anyway -- perhaps a bit shook up." Armand eyed his ex-wife across the passenger compartment of the limo. "Would you like to talk to her?" "Please!" Armand handed his cell phone to Sharon. "Nora?" "Mom, are you okay? Daddy planned to mess with your mind this afternoon; he told me so. But from what I'm hearing, he got trumped, somehow..." Sharon glared at Armand, who wondered if things were going to collapse after all. But what she said was, "Well, this doesn't appear to be any of his doing. Given what has occurred, I've decided to not fight the move; in fact, they're packing up our stuff as we speak, at home." "What happened?" "Three guys claiming to be plumbers -- or maybe four or five, it's hard to tell -- broke into the house. Three of them... raped me. One or two more did strange things in my bedroom, and maybe other places. Armand's people figure they probably compromised the surveillance cameras and cleaned up to cover whatever it was they did. As a result, the house just isn't safe..." "Omigod!" "It's bad enough having your father and his minions watching me pick out bras in the morning -- I don't want to star in an internet website! So... We're moving..." "But are you okay?" "Yeah," Sharon sighed. "Aside from the mind games, I've had worse from your father." She favored him with another glare. "There was just a lot more of it, all at the same time..." "We'll be right there!" "Don't kill yourself, Hon. I'm fine, and I'm with your father. If that's dangerous, well, it'll be something I have to get used to..." Armand chuckled at this. "It might be better if you went to dinner or something, first, so your stuff will arrive before you do." "Okay. Let me talk to Daddy." Armand took the phone. "This wasn't your grand plan, was it?" "Um, no. It exceeded my expectations for the afternoon by quite a bit." Armand wouldn't have fooled a lie detector, but there was a kernel of truth to the statement. "All right. What are you doing?" "I have a forensics team working. We're pretty sure we know who did it, and he might even expose himself to gloat. They'll all get what they deserve." "All right, Daddy. We'll be along after we hit McDonald's." "Go somewhere nicer. If you need money, just wave your arm above your head and someone from the security detail will cover the check. All right?" "Um, okay. Sounds weird..." "Well, in the mansion you'll have a bit more privacy, because I'm usually the only one who looks at the internal surveillance system, outside the common areas. But you're going to have coverage any time you're out, so you should expect it. After today, I'm sure the reasons are clear..." "And Nate?" "... Remains welcome. I'm well aware of all the visible facets of your relationship and pledged non-interference before. That continues to be the way things are. Give me a bit to arrange the monetary coverage with the security detail, but go somewhere halfway decent." "Okay, Daddy. Bye." Nora hung up. Nate was watching her, concerned. "What's up? "Well, you know we're out because Daddy wanted to mess with Mom's head..." "Yeah, sorta." "Well something went wrong. Somebody else got there first." "Huh?" "A bunch of guys showed up on our porch claiming to be plumbers that Daddy sent. They weren't." "Ho lee shit!" Nate's eyes bugged. "So what happened?" "Um, well, I don't know much, but apparently three of them took Mom for a ride..." "She all right?" "She says so. I don't think it's all going to sink in for a while, but apparently they didn't actually hurt her, physically. She said something about Daddy being worse..." She grinned ruefully. "Anyway, it looks like we're moving to Daddy's house even earlier than anticipated -- like tonight! The upside is that to keep us from being under foot too much, they want us to have dinner somewhere nice -- on Daddy..." "Huh. Okay, I guess. Any ideas?" "Maybe that Australian place up the street?" That Nate had never been there was a given. "Uh, you sure your Daddy wants to pop for that?" "It'll be fine. Let's go!" "Okay..." ------- Sharon stood in the sitting room of a generous suite in the north wing of the mansion, looking out over the local lake. This was certainly different from her little house, which had a view of absolutely nothing but functionally identical houses... Vaguely, she wondered what the price to her of all this opulence might be; certainly, she was going to have to TRY to obtain SOME kind of independence from Armand, although, frankly, she didn't see how on Earth she was going to accomplish it... She shivered, more from the mental aftermath of recent events than the temperature. The Wench picked this up immediately. This was a humiliation to her -- this serving of the woman who had more access to her Master than she did -- but it was survivable, since it appeared to please Him. Besides, it appeared that in some ways they were sisters... The odd thing was that Sharon didn't seem to appreciate what she had... Well, maybe that would change, and maybe it wouldn't. If it didn't, it meant more of Master's attention for HER, and there was nothing wrong with that... "Are you cold? Why don't I run you a bath while we wait for your things to arrive? You're, well, kind of a mess -- no doubt it will help you relax and put this thing behind you... " "Mmmm? Oh, okay. That DOES sound good. Which way is the bathroom, again?" The Wench waved and preceded her; once in the fairly opulent bathroom, Sharon went directly to the tub and began adjusting the taps. When she stood back, the Wench stuck her hand under the water. "What did you do THAT for?" Sharon asked. "To see how you like your water." The Wench pushed back her hair and sighed, "Look, I'm not much of a servant..." "Well, I've never had one." "That's probably good, since it might keep me from being beaten too much while I learn. Master wants me to attend you -- for now, at least -- so we'll both have to kind of get used to the whole thing, okay?" Sharon grinned wryly. "I'll try not to be too demanding," she chuckled. "It might be smarter for both of us if you demanded perfection," the Wench returned. "Do you want bubbles? I think I could find some, somewhere..." "Hmmmm, it might be nice, but it's not urgent. I can't get to the point where I feel clean in a tub, anyway -- I'm a shower girl." "Fortunately, this place has both," the Wench replied, nodding at the tile-encased, glass-doored shower on the adjacent wall. "We'll get you all warm, relaxed and soapy here, then move over there for the rinse, all right?" "Sounds positively decadent." "Get used to it. You're moving into your decadent period. I think that maybe all of those years of hardship are about to pay off, and your retirement plan has kicked in," the Wench observed. "If I could only believe THAT," Sharon replied. "Well, I think it's all up to you, frankly. I think you can make things hard or easy on yourself -- it's really going to depend upon how flexible you are..." The Wench, digging in a cabinet, found some softening bubble bath and presented it for approval. Sharon glanced at it, shrugged, and nodded, turning and unzipping the housecoat she had worn from her little house. It never made it to the floor; the Wench hurriedly put down the bottle and lifted it from her shoulders. Sharon stepped into the tub. "Too late for bubble bath, anyway..." "Not really," The Wench demurred, holding her hand as she settled in. "It's a whirlpool tub..." She proceeded to demonstrate, and Sharon lay back against the jets, luxuriating as bubbles piled higher and higher around her. The Wench plopped herself on the toilet lid to be available to attend. ------- Armand was in his office with Jason; Witherspoon was on speaker. "All right, can we sew this up tight enough that it never gets back to the wrong ears?" Armand asked. "Witherspoon, were the two teams segregated?" "Yes, they were, Sir. And they remain so." "What's the plan for the assault team?" "I figured I'd push them off-site for a while; fortunately, they're all bachelors." "Good idea. Give them a bit of the carrot and the stick -- the bonuses I mentioned -- double them, in fact -- and an admonition that this should never be discussed, even in-house, with anyone not on the team. Will that work with this group?" "I should think so, Sir," Witherspoon agreed. "All right, the second team. Obviously, we told them to play up and draw things out, but is that an issue? And do they know that the first team was a group of colleagues?" "I don't know," Witherspoon responded. "I gave them to Jason to brief. Jason?" "Hmmm. I think we're okay -- I merely told them that we were going to pretend to do a lot more investigating than we were actually going to do -- kind of a put-up job to keep the Boss' ex-wife from thinking we weren't taking her seriously. I led them to believe that I was taking the opportunity to get even a bit, have a little fun at her expense. They did quite well, too." "Okay, I can brief that you wouldn't take kindly to that little nugget reaching her ears, and that it might have disastrous consequences for their employment situation; that should handle it," Witherspoon replied. "All right. I don't know whether Sharon will ever ask what we did to avenge her, but it might be smart to come up with something. Staffordshire Farms is the obvious scapegoat -- I think we have an operation going against them in K.C., anyway, so we can just re-cast it a bit if necessary. Does anyone see any further problems?" "Just Ed," Jason muttered. "Ed's been sensible thus far; I expect him to continue to be. But I'll handle him. Understood?" Jason nodded. "Then we're done. Witherspoon, this will mean a cutback in surveillance teams, but we can probably move more activity to other projects. We'll keep Sharon's house as a safe-house and possible interrogation center, unless someone comes up with something better. I'll welcome any other ideas on the subject; take a couple of days and see what you can come up with. Anything else?" "No." "No, Sir." "Then we're adjourned. Find Ed and send him to me. Don't attempt to scare him or anything -- it's the wrong tack with Ed. Understood?" "Yes, Sir." Jason's expression didn't flicker. The Boss was on this one, controlling it tightly; there was no reason to buck him, or even get a bruised ego, since Jason didn't want to be the one to blame if the episode turned into a fiasco... He headed out, toward the carpenter's quarters in the south wing. ------- Fifteen minutes later, there was a rap at the door, and Ed stuck his head in. "You sent for me, Boss?" Armand nodded. "It appears that you showed good sense today. If you'd had Sharon, I might have had to let you go. As it is, things went much better than anticipated, which could turn out to be a problem. Did she see or hear you?" "Only coming up the walk, with my head down, maybe. The other two were certainly more likely to be memorable." He grinned. "I never said a word in her presence, either." "All right. She's here, now, which was my ultimate purpose -- but we're ahead of schedule. You haven't talked about this to anyone?" "Nope." "It's best that you leave it that way. If someone asks, you were sent out with the team that went there to investigate after the break-in, but it's best that you not mention it at all. Do you have a problem with that?" "Nope." "The official tale is that a competitor decided to get my attention. You weren't there, but were called in to look at some suspicious carpentry work done on site, after. Understood?" "Yeah, Boss. No problem." "Excellent. The others that were in on this received bonuses for their fine work; you deserve one, too. But I don't think I have to warn you not to attempt to turn it into an annuity..." Armand's hard stare bore a clear threat. "Heh, no problem, Boss. I know which side my bread's buttered on -- I'm cool. Maybe next time you import pussy, I can hit the front of the line?" Armand tented his fingers. "That's more than fair. In fact, if you'd like, I can tell Charles to detail the Wench to you, once..." "Nice idea, Boss -- lemme think about it. Problem with in-house pussy is you want it again..." Armand studied his fingers. "Ever think of visiting Velma?" "Huh? Velma's HUGE, Boss!" "It's pussy," Armand shrugged. "I bet the door would open a second time, too..." "Huh! Really?" "I hear things," Armand said neutrally. "Velma is... unattended. It's... just a thought." Ed nodded and tuned away, obviously pensive. Armand smiled at his back, grimly; he was well aware that Ed was a horndog -- a largely frustrated one. Velma might soon get her ashes hauled... ------- Chapter 23A: Tabitha's Big Mistake Nate pulled his ratty Chevette into the driveway of Nora's new digs and parked behind a rental truck from whose wide-open back a couple of men and a woman were removing articles of clothing and other items. "Guess you ain't moved in yet..." "Maybe not, but things are apparently well along..." Nora recognized the stuff on hangers going in the door. "Let's go in." "You sure?" "Daddy SAYS you're welcome. No time like the present to see if he's serious..." Nora opened her door. Nate got out and looked around, just as a dapper individual in a grey uniform appeared. "Good evening, Sir." "Uh, hi. You want me to move?" "Not necessary, Sir. If you'll just give me the keys, I'll move it to the garage." "Uh, okay." Nate, nonplussed, handed over the keys. "Thanks, Jorge," Nora smiled. "Miss." Jorge touched his cap and slid behind the wheel. Nora passed a significant glance at Nate, "We've met before." Nate watched his car pull away, around the horseshoe driveway to a wing near the gate where a garage door opened. Nate was frankly amazed that they'd bother to park his beater indoors... "Come on," Nora prompted. A black woman opened the door for them, admitting Nora with "Good evening, Miss," and looking blankly at Nate. "Good evening. Can you point me to my new room?" "Yes, Miss. Follow me, please." The woman led them to a room in what Daddy had referred to as the 'north wing' on Nora's last visit; from the sound of things, Mom was in the somewhat larger suite at the end of the hall. The Mexican woman who had caught such Hell the last time she was here was taking piles of Nora's clothing from the bed and hanging them in the closet, along with her daughter. The black woman murmured, "Can I do anything else for you and your..." Nora took notice of something that Nate had been fuming about for some time; the woman apparently was in the process of assuming that he was a servant, or something. "That would be boyfriend," she simpered, "Or, more accurately, lover." She eyed the black woman sidelong. Leticia was taken aback! Just exactly what Miss Nora was doing with a black boy trailing her hadn't been clear, but the answer she just got... "You aren't serious! Does Mister Wilson know?" "I AM serious, and, yes, Daddy is well aware, thank you." Nora turned away, dismissively, and Nate stood there glaring at Leticia. "I EXPECT that shit from white folk!" he growled, "but YOU?" "Uhhh, sorry sir!" "Shhh, Honey. It's okay. We're going to have to put up with that, sometimes, but I'm sure she'll never do it again!" Nora nibbled Nate's neck, while eyeing Leticia. Leticia had seen that look before -- in Nora's father's eyes. "No Ma'am! No Sir. I'm sorry, Sir!" She got out of there. Nate was still grouchy. "Why do I get that shit from a sistah? Jeezus!" "Now, Honey. I'm not expecting the warmest welcome in YOUR neck of the woods. The good news is that we have control over it, here. It won't happen more than once..." "Well, okay." Nate looked around; things were pretty opulent. "Shit, I can't compete with this!" "Nobody's asking you to, Honey. This is as new to me as it is to you -- we'll figure it out. In the meantime, you and I have our own thing that this has nothing to do with." "Well, okay, if you say so." Belief wasn't strong with him. "It was my impression that your relationship with Nora had little or nothing to do with money," a voice rumbled form the doorway. "Uh," Nate gulped. This was Nora's Daddy, in person! "Yeah... I didn't know she was rich when we met..." "Neither did she," Armand pointed out. "She had been carefully insulated from that reality. Is it now, suddenly, relevant?" "Well... It's just... I can't DO this!" Nate waved his arms. "Not today, perhaps. Nora isn't so dazzled by the trappings of wealth that she can't do without. In fact, she has as little experience with them as you do." "That's gonna change, though, ain't it?" "The second part? Yes. The first? I hope not..." Armand's eyes bored into his daughter's. Nora looked defensive. Without removing her eyes from her father, she enlightened Nate, "Getting all caught up in money is frowned on in Daddy's family. They don't believe in handing you everything on a platter. Daddy is where he is today because he had a couple of cousins who enjoyed spending money more than earning it. If I get too comfortable around here, I might end up living in a grass hut somewhere." Armand chuckled, turning his attention to Nate. "See? You have potential. Let's see if you can actualize it. In the meantime, why don't you stick to the things that the pair of you have in common, and worry less about comparisons with someone twice your age?" "Uh, yessir." Armand waved vaguely and moved off down the hall. Nate hopped from foot to foot for a bit, but Nora needed to get settled in -- they weren't going to get much quality time tonight. "I oughta go. You got stuff to do." Nora sighed, capitulating. "All right." They headed back down the hall. "I'm not sure how I get someone's attention to get your car out..." She eyed an intercom panel in the hallway. There appeared to be one primary button... She punched it. "Hello?" "Yes?" A contralto voice issued from the speaker. "This is Nora. My boyfriend is getting ready to leave. Could you have Jorge bring his car around?" Was that what you said? Around? "Certainly, Miss. He'll be right there." "Who was that?" Nate wondered. "No idea." Nora shrugged. In a moment, they were at the door. "I know this has been weird and strange, but look at it this way -- I'm going to YOUR house tomorrow..." "Yeh," Nate managed a grin. "THAT should be a trip." They stood waiting a moment, then Jorge opened the door and walked in. "Your car is ready, Sir." "Thanks." "You're welcome, Sir. Will there be anything else?" "Uh, no." Jorge nodded and moved off. Nate turned to Nora and, somewhat embarrassedly, started a kiss. Nora didn't let go, so it got better over time. He went back for seconds, and thirds... Finally, he sighed, "Car's gonna run out of gas..." "All right." Nora hugged him. "I'll see you in the morning, then." "Okay." Another quick kiss and he let himself out. Driving away, he wondered if he'd ever be comfortable in Nora's new digs... ------- People had come in while Sharon was in the tub, carrying box after box and putting other things like on-hanger clothing on the bed. The Wench had gone out to observe the commotion, and on her return had merely responded, "Your things have arrived," to Sharon's query. When Sharon started to get out of the tub, she forestalled her, murmuring, "Haven't enough people seen you naked today?" Sharon blinked and settled back. A few minutes later, Armand stuck his head in the door. Sharon snatched for a towel, but he merely eyed her steadily until she put it down. "You are unharmed?" Armand asked. "I can send for the doctor..." "I'm fine." "All right. I'll have dinner sent up." He eyed the Wench. "See to it that she has all she needs to settle in." "Yes, Master." That was the end of the interview. Sharon soaked for another twenty minutes, then the Wench helped her shampoo and shower. Sharon felt she could have done fine by herself, but it wasn't going to happen, so... The Wench even got in the shower with her and washed her back, which made her vaguely nervous, but she was obviously avoiding anything sexual. When they re-entered the bedroom, it held a large quantity of moving clutter -- boxes and other loose items awaiting Sharon's attention. "God, I'm not up for this!" she complained. "Then don't worry about it," the Wench said, breezily. "They're just clothes, mostly. I'm an expert at clothes." She started moving hanger-bound items to the closet. "Just sit and relax." Sharon settled in a chair, but couldn't really relax. Eventually, they started working as a team, the Wench fetching clothing and Sharon arranging it in drawers and the closet. Sharon slid into a light robe, but the Wench's nudity demanded that she not act prudish, so she left it at that. After about an hour, Nora stuck her head in the door. "Mom? How are you?" Sharon looked up from a drawer half-full of underclothes. "I'm fine," she said tiredly. "I was better earlier, but then all this showed up..." "Yeah, I had a pile, too," Nora agreed. "Daddy seems to be in a big hurry for us to settle in." The Wench said nothing, but got a knowing look. "What?" Sharon demanded. "Well, this whole thing has played into his hands," the Wench replied. "I'd push things as far as I could, too, if I was Master." "Yeah, I guess." Sharon sat down. "I knew we'd probably end up here, but I figured to hold out longer." "It would only have been more painful," the Wench counseled. "You have saved yourself trouble." "The whole thing was such a surprise..." Nora settled on the bed and asked quietly, "So what happened? Not the fifty thousand foot view -- the whole thing." "These guys showed up, in a van with a plumbing company logo. There were three of them. When I came to the door, two of them were watching a third guy come up the walk carrying buckets. There was an older white guy, and a black guy -- I'm not even sure what the third guy looked like, because he had his head down. They said your father had sent them. I figured the people he had spying on us had told your father and he hired someone, so I opened the door. The white guy went through and I turned to watch him and the black guy grabbed me from behind. Next, a bag went over my head, and they tied my hands behind me. I tried to scream, but they knocked the wind out of me..." Sharon sat there, remembering. Dinner showed up. Inez and a woman Sharon had never seen before -- a beautiful, light-skinned Hispanic woman -- brought trays of food and beverages. The Hispanic woman was in charge; she announced, "Please ring when you're finished, Ma'am, and we'll clear this away." The pair withdrew quietly. Sharon eyed the Wench. "Why didn't they expect you to do that?" The Wench shrugged. "I'm a specialist. In some ways, they probably assume I'm not skilled enough to be a servant. In others, they expect me to carry the ball. This is something they do that I don't -- unless you direct otherwise. I'm a... 'body servant'." She looked sheepish. Sharon took a look at her tray -- salmon and asparagus spears and a rice pilaf. Not bad... The wine was one she'd had before... "Do I have to wait?" Nora complained. Sharon grimaced and took a sip of wine. "Oh, all right -- where was I?" "The plumbers bagged you and tied your hands..." "Oh, yeah. Well, I tried to start trouble and got a good slap for it, then tried to scream and got the wind knocked out of me for it. Things got kind of quiet for a minute or two, then they started dragging me around by the pants legs. I tried to fight, but one of them stuck his foot in my stomach and another one stripped them off. Kicking didn't seem to help me -- in fact, it might have helped them, for all I know." She stopped to take a bite of salmon, chewed, swallowed, and continued, "Somebody shredded my panties, which wasn't unexpected, but then they started talking about the merits of just killing me versus raping me first. It scared the shit out of me; I tried to scream again, and took another punch in the stomach..." She shuddered, and took a sip of wine. "Things got weird about then. I got a lecture on cooperation and they took off the hood and stuck these strange goggles on me..." "Goggles?" The Wench blinked in surprise. "Uh huh. They were special. They were at least totally blurred, if not silvered, every direction but straight down. That's the only direction I could really see in. The mirroring sucked; they took a flashlight and shined it on them and I was totally blind!" "Then what happened?" Nora prompted. "Well, they undid my hands and told me to get out of my top and bra, then they plopped me on a kitchen chair and started asking questions..." Sharon shook her head as the memories poured past. "They seemed to think I knew a lot about Armand's business dealings, and that we were a lot more cozy than we really are... When they didn't get anything much in the way of answers, they started doing things that hurt like Hell." "Like what?" The Wench was fascinated. "Trying to make my breasts two sizes smaller was a favorite," Sharon replied, rubbing her right breast. "Then they spread-eagled me over a table and somebody rammed a telephone pole up my ass, dry -- shit, that hurt!" She speared some asparagus, and chewed a bit, then, staring at her plate, said dully, "I wasn't any too brave -- I spilled my guts. But the problem was, I didn't know anything, anyway..." "Nobody blames you," the Wench soothed. "You did what you had to." "I guess." Sharon was still troubled. She picked at her asparagus for a bit, then went on, "When it became apparent that I wasn't going to be any too valuable as an information source, they started using me as a cum dumpster. I already had a cock in my ass; when the black guy shoved his cock in my face, I just opened up..." "It's okay, Mom! What were you SUPPOSED to do, for God's sake?" Nora consoled. "Maybe..." Sharon took another bite of her salmon, but to the two observers, it looked like she was tasting something else. "He... He made me vomit, deliberately, jamming his cock down my throat. I know how to take it, but..." "I've had that, recently," the Wench affirmed. "If they don't give you time to get it under control..." "He didn't. He seemed to want me to puke -- he kept jamming it in deep... I vomited into a trash can. He dragged around a glass of water and said something about kissing me later, and that now that my stomach was empty, there wouldn't be further problems, then he started shoving it in again. I couldn't fight -- the heaves had taken everything I had left..." She just stopped, her face a mask of guilt. "What's wrong? C'mon, Mom, you aren't to blame for anything, here..." But Sharon's shoulders began to shake. "God help me, I started to enjoy it..." The other two rushed in. The Wench took the tray while Nora gathered her mother into her arms to hold her while she wept. "You shouldn't blame yourself for that, Mistress -- Master has been training you to enjoy the rough stuff for a long time, now." "I couldn't help it!" Sharon wailed. "They rolled me on my back and I had one in my ass, and the black guy riding my throat, and then a third guy showed up from somewhere and started riding me... He was right there, making everything else good, and I just couldn't help myself! The black guy backed off and started playing with my nipples, and the guy in my ass came -- and I got mine, too, at the same time..." "Shhhhh," Nora consoled. "It's the way you do sex. It's no surprise that you managed to enjoy it." Sharon nodded, washed out. "It was just... so much... The guy in my pussy kept pounding... I forgot I was being raped, and grabbed the black guy and tried to swallow him whole the second time I came..." Nora rubbed her mother's back, but she was somewhat shocked. Twice? Sharon, now in full confession mode, plowed on, "The guy came in me, then came around and ordered me to clean him off with my mouth, but then the guy in my ass rolled me over and pulled out. The black guy circled around and slid into me from behind and started pounding away, talking wild trash about getting me pregnant. I was so fucked up, I believed him! I finished cleaning the one guy, and the guy in my ass stuck HIS dick in my face -- and there was no denying him! Gawd, that was awful!" The Wench handed her the wineglass, and she emptied it. "When I finished, the other guy came back, but the black guy bitched about having to take it easy, so they rolled me on my back again, with my head hanging over the edge of the coffee table, and went at both ends... The black guy kept talking about me raising his little bastard kids..." She shook her head. "He came -- and I did, too, BIG..." The Wench, watching Nora, murmured, "Master has been training your submissive streak for a long time; that's just the thing you're trained to go into ecstasy over. It's no big surprise -- go easy on yourself." Sharon nodded, and Nora did, too, grateful for the reality check. Sharon waved a hand. "That was pretty much it. They duct taped me to the coffee table, arms and legs taped to the table legs, while one of them kept shoving his cock down my throat. I was pretty much gone... They flashed a light in my eyes and took off the goggles, and the guy using my throat squirted cum in them, but it didn't matter; I was already blinded... Then they stuck a vibrator in me and turned it on, but I wasn't really capable of noticing, any more. I was wasted, but they managed to scare the Hell out of me, anyway, by sticking a lit candle in my mouth and another one on my belly. I couldn't move, and couldn't see, and if I moved wrong and the one on my belly fell over... Thank God it wasn't five minutes before Jason came roaring in with a bunch of guys behind him! After that, it was mostly embarrassing..." "Okay," Nora said, "so why are we here?" Sharon scratched her head. "Well, it seemed clear at the time... Ummm... Oh! While I was getting worked over, somebody went up to my room and fixed all of the holes, but apparently made new ones, or something. Your father said it was probably done to cover installation of other equipment, and that the house was compromised. He said that to put us in a hotel, he'd have to block off as many as twenty-seven rooms and man them all -- AND put a team in the room with us..." Sharon shrugged. "So I gave up, and here we are." She just sat there, not looking up. The Wench caught Nora's eye. "Mistress is tired; it's been a long day for her, and this has been cathartic. I'll put her to bed." Nora nodded. "Okay." She kissed her mother's cheek and backed out of the room. The Wench rang for Consuelo and Inez to pick up Sharon's picked at meal, and turned back the bed, then went after Sharon's hair with a brush. "Here, want some more wine?" Sharon, totally adrift, took it and sipped distractedly, luxuriating in the impromptu scalp massage. When the others had come and gone, the Wench got Sharon out of her robe without demur and slid her under the covers. "Do you want me to stay?" she asked. "No, s'okay." Sharon was far gone. "Just ring if you need anything," the Wench offered, and swept out, turning out the light. ------- Nate went home expecting to have to tune up his mother's usual mess -- but she hadn't come home. That wasn't unusual, on a weekend -- Hell, it wasn't unusual, PERIOD. Nate, pleased with his luck, fine-tuned things and got ready for Monday. With any luck, Mama would forget and still be out when Nate brought Nora over Monday night... Tabitha was out stalking her usual territory, in reasonably good shape. The dope at Julio's party hadn't been exactly premiere shit; as a result, she'd been mostly attached to the ground at the party, rather than flying. To extend the buzz, she'd hit the booze harder than usual, which seemed to do a half-assed job; she figured the lights went out about five a.m. Julio hadn't dumped her out, either, but had let her bag it on the couch -- but then Tabitha seemed to remember the chubby little spick going to town between her legs at one point or another. Well, it HAD been his party, and his shit... Tabitha's main complaint was that the bastard wouldn't wear a rubber -- but then, he'd be the only one, since all of her johns did... She was pretty sure he was clean -- Hell, she was pretty sure she was the only pussy he was getting! Well, if it brought her invitations to his parties, and a free source of shit, who cared if he was takin' it out in trade? Certainly not Tabitha! Any shit she got from Julio was shit she didn't hafta buy... And as long as neither of them came up with anything, the couple of nuts Julio might get off her was a lot less pussy work than she had to do to pay for shit from a street vendor. Maybe she should offer him the occasional sober freebie? Naaah, he thought he was gettin' away with somethin', gettin' her high and rippin' it off; doin' him sober might fuck that up... Anyway, she'd stuck her head under a faucet, chased her skirt and stockings down and strapped on her push-up bra about five-thirty (Julio didn't seem to mind the sag of her breasts, or the flop when she got going), and stalked out to go to work, rubbin' Julio's brush cut and talkin' trash about how great the party had been as she hit the door, (Julio looked like shit with that haircut, but it was his head, she figured... ). He was lookin' all happy; unless he found another hole to tap, there'd be another invite, soon. The weather wasn't great, but it wasn't awful, either -- just a bit nippy for her skimpy outfit, but that was advertising, after a fashion. Besides, she was still a bit disconnected from the sensations that caused an occasional shiver... Tomorrow, things would be different, but tomorrow was Monday, anyway -- a dead night. Some of the local girls actually lowered their rates on Monday, something Tabitha didn't believe in; how much it improved business was SERIOUSLY open to question... A car came slowly around the corner -- a dead giveaway, as good sense said you wanted out of this neighborhood fairly quickly. Tabitha put on her game face and checked to make sure her bra was doing its job, then waved. Sure enough, the car pulled to the curb and the window came down. Tabitha leaned down and sized up her catch. Frankly, there was nothing impressive about him. He had regular features, thinning hair -- maybe forty. The look on his face said he was nervous and had no fuckin' idea what he was up to, so Tabitha readied her 'sucker' price list. The suit he was wearing said he could pay for it, anyway... "Hi, Honey. Lookin' for a good time?" "Um, yes, actually." 'Actually, huh?' Tabitha chuckled to herself -- a sucker for sure... "Well, if you've got the money, Honey, I've got the time..." She opened the car door and settled into the passenger seat, reaching over to fondle the john's cock through his trousers, "What do you think you want?" "Well, it depends on what things cost..." Tabitha chuckled. "It always does, Honey." Dumbjohn was perfect for his role. He was absolutely anonymous- looking, intelligent, and a consummate actor. He also had a vicious right cross; Tabitha caught it as she was preparing to present her price list. Things went black, and Dumbjohn drove off with his unconscious passenger. ------- Tabitha came slowly awake, draped over a sawhorse, her arms tied to the legs at the floor level. Looking around, she noted that the cement walls said basement, but the wood floors -- to which the sawhorse was nailed -- said something else. The taste in her mouth, the headache, and the sore spot on her arm said the punch wasn't all the john had used to keep her quiet. She couldn't see her ankles -- this side of the sawhorse had a hunk of plywood loosely nailed to it for some reason -- but they were tied, too. Of course, she was buck naked; that sort of went with the territory. The only open question seemed to be whether she'd get out of this room alive; if the john was just a hired killer, she'd be dead already, but there were worse things, and it looked like she was going to experience them... The john came in, from behind her somewhere -- at least she thought it was him. There was no telling, since he was now wearing a mask. Well, it figured; what he was probably warming up for would be a lot more memorable than just sticking his dick in one or more of her holes. Tabitha tended to forget a john's face as soon as she looked away; she had regulars who were somewhat disgruntled by that fact. This guy, however, would no doubt be different... He came around and pulled her up by the chin. "Awake, are we? Good -- we can begin." Fucker was downright conversational as he stepped off to the side, pulling on rubber gloves and digging through some implements on a tray... "Word on the street is that you've been pretty independent, and pretty lucky -- and you don't have a personal representative to look out for your interests. Tsk, tsk -- I'm afraid your luck has changed..." Tabitha raised her head and glared at him. "You mean a pimp? Somebody to steal three-quarters of my fuckin' money and slap me around?" That apparently wasn't the smartest thing to say, because the fucker planted himself in front of her and proceeded to slap the living shit out of her a half-dozen times, rocking her head on her shoulders. Then, while she was still seeing stars, he shoved some kind of dentist's clamp between her jaws, ratcheting it open and racking her jaws in the process. Shit, this wasn't going too good... She was bent the fuck over, her ears were ringing, and now her jaws hurt... What next? Whoever the Hell he was, the fucker didn't waste any time. He went back to digging in his instrument tray and came up with a couple of things, then came back to stand before her, "Raise your head, bitch." When she did, he put a hand under her chin, then brandished a pair of something that looked like steel cooking tongs before inserting them in her mouth and grabbing her tongue with them. 'Oh, shit!' Tabitha thought, but all she could manage verbally was a strained, "Eeeeehhhh!!!" He was gonna cut out her tongue! But she couldn't struggle very much -- she was tied tightly, and besides, he already had a firm grip on the damned thing! He tugged on it a couple of times to prove it, which hurt like a sonofabitch. Tabitha could barely see him through the tears the pain brought to her eyes. Then he whipped out a needle! a BIG needle! Tabitha didn't know whether to be thankful or horrified -- at least it wasn't a knife! But he made her watch it, all the way to her tongue, and "AAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!", all the way through. He left it there, skewering her tongue through the holes in the tongs while he went to collect a ball stud. "I like my cunts to blow me with a tongue piercing -- aren't you glad I'm increasing your value like this?" he chuckled. "Of course, if I'm your last customer, it won't matter, will it?" Re-grasping the tongs, he finished pulling the needle through by pushing it with the stud. The procedure hurt like Hell, but there was nothing for Tabitha to do but endure it and him installing the bottom ball on the stud and twirling the assembly in the raw hole in her tongue. "Ookay," he announced, releasing the tongs, "time to make everything clean and antiseptic. You'll find that I'm big on that." He reached over to the instrument tray, collected a squirt bottle, shook it and began squeezing it, squirting the contents into Tabitha's open mouth. At some point, he made a bucket appear to collect the dribbles from Tabitha's open mouth, but she was entirely too busy trying to scream to notice! Jeezus fuckin' Christ, that shit burned! "Like that?" the fucker asked. "It's my own concoction -- Listerine, some rubbing alcohol -- oh, and salt..." He produced a toothy grin below the mask. "Burns a bit doesn't it? But it's good for you -- sort of -- and entertaining to me..." Tabitha was busy discovering that you can't spit with your jaws jacked open. All she could do was lower her head and let the fiery liquid run into the bucket. Her tongue was on fire from the assault! The fucker then raised her head and poured in a second batch, holding her head up so that she couldn't expel it for a few moments to provide full effect. When he let go and allowed her to drop her head, Tabitha had nothing else on her mind but emptying her mouth. In a minute, though, he was back, with a garden hose. "Rinse time! I'm gonna stick my cock in there -- we don't want me bothered by cleaning solution, now, do we?" Holding her head up by the hair, he began shooting water from the hose into her open mouth. This wasn't pleasant for a number of reasons, chief among which was that he didn't seem to be too concerned about his aim; Tabitha took water in her eyes and up her nose, half-drowning as she tried to find an opening for her lungs that wasn't taking in water. After what was probably a little more than a minute, but seemed like an eternity, the fucker let go of her head and shut off the water. Tabitha hung there, gasping, trying to upchuck swallowed water. In a moment, he returned with a collection of rings, which he checked against the opening of her mouth, spread by the jaws of the clamp. Tabitha barely had the energy to turn her head sideways to discover what he was up to next; apparently, it consisted of taking the ring he'd selected and mounting it in a leather harness, which he then threaded past the clamp to insert in her mouth and buckle behind her head. As he removed the clamp, he muttered, "I'm sure a woman as worldly as you is familiar with the concept of a ring gag? Can't have you succumbing to the urge to bite..." Producing a rubber stopper, he continued, "Most ring gags aren't gags at all -- they don't stop sound or air. I've modified this one..." He inserted the stopper, which had a groove around the circumference to seat it in the ring. Tabitha found that her poor, abused tongue didn't have the strength to push it back out, but in a moment it became frankly impossible as the bastard torturing her snapped a leather strap across the outside of it, one with a flat rubber cup that extended beyond the edge of her mouth in all directions and snaps that attached it to the leather straps of the ring gag at her cheeks. That mounted, he announced, "Okay, let's check for air tightness!" and pinched off Tabitha's nose. "Uuuuuh! Uuuuuh! Uuuuuuuuuuuh!" Tabitha couldn't breathe! The situation was made worse by the instant panic that accompanied the discovery. Actually, she discovered that she COULD breathe OUT, if she worked at it, forcing air around the rubber cover -- but THAT didn't help AT ALL; it merely robbed her of resources that might have carried her a few more seconds. Breathing in was impossible; the rubber clutched tight against her mouth, creating a vacuum. She thrashed and screeched within the constriction on her bonds, fighting for air, for life... Dumbjohn let up when she reached the point of semi-consciousness, allowing her the use of her nose. She hung there, lungs pumping like bellows, while he prepared to assault his next target. When she started showing some signs of awareness, he fixed her attention with the comment, "Oookayyyy, now that that end is clean, let's go to work elsewhere!" Tabitha watched the fucker screw a cone-shaped end onto his garden hose in bitter fear. The way things were going, the chances that she was going to leave the room alive seemed pretty slim. What he was going to do with that hose wasn't absolutely clear, but she could guess... Speech, aside from "Oooo" and "Ahhh", was impossible, so she didn't try. The big questions were "What's next?" and "How bad will it hurt?" Dumbjohn removed the rubber cover and the stopper from the gag. "Feel free to yell," he announced, "We're both remote AND virtually soundproof. That little exercise wasn't for sound-deadening, it was for me to enjoy watching you deal with the lack of any air supply..." Tabitha, panting, glared at him. Speech was still impossible; why bother to try? In fact, maybe she would just be quiet -- keep the fucker from enjoying hearing her screech. Yeah, why not? Dumbjohn went back to his instrument tray, and picked up an enema syringe and a bottle of antibacterial soap. "THIS will clear you out," he taunted, squeezing the bulb and sucking a quantity of the soap into the syringe. "Of course, it'll make the cramps worse, and it'll cause you to spew shit all over the place -- and if I allow you to survive this encounter, your digestion is likely to be disrupted for a few days..." He shook his head dismissively. "Nah. Food and water would be a waste of good money. I can't imagine any of your worn-out holes being worth keeping you for..." He circled around behind her, then appeared to have second thoughts. Coming back around front, he lifted her head by the hair again, "See here, do you want to watch? Or would you rather just feel?" He watched Tabitha's eyes flicker while she thought about it, working on her with, "Of course, not knowing sometimes makes things more intense. There's the anticipation and the lack of other senses to get in the way of the experience..." He dropped her head and rolled a television on a stand to a position in front of her, off-side a bit, a few feet away. "I'm filming this for future enjoyment; you might as well get the benefit." He circled back around and palmed a remote control, clicking the 'On' button and rolling a thumbwheel. The TV lit and the field filled with Tabitha's ass as the camera zoomed in. Tabitha looked; she couldn't help herself. She watched, as well as felt, the syringe tip penetrate her cringing asshole, watched Dumbjohn squeeze the bulb, and felt the soap squirt into her colon. 'Okay', she nerved herself, 'This isn't fun, and it'll get worse, but... ' Unfortunately, she was a bit early in her assumptions; Dumbjohm picked up the water hose and applied the conical tip of IT to her sphincter. Then he turned the valve at the hose end... "AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" Tabitha screamed as ice cold water went shooting into her defenseless colon. The cramps came instantly and hard; only the fact that she was already bent over the sawhorse and tied tightly kept her from curling into a ball. The water just kept on coming; while it probably was less than a minute, it seemed like eternity -- Tabitha felt her belly swelling and hardening, and it was SOOOOO COLD!!! Finally, her tormentor shut it off, leaving her writhing from the cramps and shivering from the chill of the water. Control wasn't possible; as soon as Dumbjohn removed the tip, Tabitha began to spew. But this had been planned for; just behind the sawhorse, the wood floors gave way to tile, and the shower area that Tabitha couldn't see, but which provided the hookup for Dumbjohn's water hose. The slop poured out onto the tile, and slid toward a drain in the floor. "Oooooh, we're nasty inside, aren't we?" Dumbjohn asked, but Tabitha didn't respond; her core body temperature had dropped to the point that she lost consciousness. It took Dumbjohn a few seconds to realize that Tabitha wasn't conscious, as her body was automatically trying to clear itself out, but he noted the quiet and moved around front to check her. The woman was grey and cold, shivering. "Wups!" he grunted, and went around to the hose, where he set the faucet for much warmer water. "Can't have you crashing on me!" Again he inserted the hose, this time flooding her with water much nearer body temperature -- perhaps even a bit TOO warm. This time, he didn't go for a fill, either, but let up pretty quickly -- besides, she was running clean -- this was just a rinse... Tabitha recovered her color; Dumbjohn decided to step out for a bit, to give her time to recover. He examined her closely, making sure that she appeared to be stable -- after all, her wasted ass had been on drugs a long time, and might just give up and crash if he pushed her TOO hard... ------- Chapter 23B: Tabitha's Big Mistake Dumbjohn wandered upstairs to the kitchen of his cabin and made himself a sandwich, stripping off the rubber gloves and disposing of them. The cabin was located midway between the town where he'd collected Tabitha and two other fairly good-sized metropolises, and was Dumbjohn's favorite working location; while he traveled when called for, he liked to operate out of this part of the country, whenever possible. Sometimes it turned shipping a victim into a serious road trip to get here, but the facility was worth the trip in his mind -- although with a bit of imagination, you could make do with a lot less... It was about one a.m., and Dumbjohn was beginning to feel fatigue, but he figured he had another four hours with Tabitha before it was time to dump her. Not a whole lot of time to provide her with a seriously memorable evening... He collected a new pair of rubber gloves and headed downstairs. Tabitha came to in the splash of a glass of water thrown at her face. She barely had energy to gasp; she was wasted, inside and out. Who'd have thought an enema would tear you up like that, inside and out? Shit! She'd fucking passed out! Musta been the cold... Dumbjohn let her recover while he sluiced the mess from the enema down the drain, then turned a hand sprayer on her, cleaning her ass and legs. Given what he'd done to her with the original enema, he used warm water instead of torturing her with cold as he normally would. He'd definitely have to remember this incident; there would be times when he might want to repeat it, but in general, it was a mistake -- and one worth bearing in mind. Finished, he swatted Tabitha on the ass. "All right! Two holes down, one to go! That pussy of yours has just GOT to have some deep- down crud in it, as many times as it's been used! We'll have to scrub it a bit, won't we?" He clicked on the camera again, which gave Tabitha a fine view of his approach with a bottle brush! 'Oh, SHIT!' Tabitha thought -- but the gag kept her from saying anything intelligible. Instead, she managed an urgent grunt as her tormentor opened her nether lips and began jamming the stiff-bristled brush into her vagina. The grunt went right up the scale, too, as he began manipulating the brush, scratching, scraping and stabbing her inner lining with the bristles. Dumbjohn pumped it in and out several times, running it deep to bash into Tabitha's cervix, then jacking it back, twisting and rotating the harsh bristles in her defenseless vaginal passage. Tabitha tried her damnedest to scream her lungs out, face straining, eyes bulging as the brush ravaged her insides. Dumbjohn fished the brush out and exclaimed, "Oh, look! Pink!" Tabitha took one look at the monitor at the red smear on the white bristles and swooned a second time. "Christ! The woman has no endurance at all!" Dumbjohn complained to himself. He'd seen black whores handle a whole lot more than this -- but then again, the ones he was thinking about had been a lot more robust. Fat bitches seemed to be better able to take a little torture than wasted, skinny ones... "Well, this'll wake her up!" He picked up a turkey baster, sucked half a cup of rubbing alcohol into it, and squirted it into Tabitha's vagina. Tabitha awakened trying her best to scream. The pain! Her whole cunt was on fire! It burned and burned and burned... Dumbjohn came around front to observe the effect. "Maybe I should take out the gag so you can scream properly? You're sure trying hard..." Obviously, though, the question was pure showmanship, because the next thing he did was to take off his trousers and boxers, revealing a decent sized cock -- nothing outrageous, maybe six and a half inches. He lifted Tabitha's head and announced, "Now that your holes are clean, I guess I'll try them out... Suck!" He pushed his cock through the ring gag. Tabitha was wrung out and distracted by the agony of her abused cunt and ass; as a result of that, the ring gag, and the tongue stud, she really wasn't in the mood to give a blowjob. Dumbjohn endured her early effort, and grunted, "Either you get better, quick, or I'm going to make you wish you had!" Tabitha tried. Given what had gone on thus far, giving the bastard shit wasn't exactly the brightest idea in the world. But the damned ring gag was in the way, and she couldn't do proper tongue action with the stud -- it hurt too much. Or at least she thought it did... Dumbjohn rolled his eyes. "If I didn't know that your oral skills produced a major part of your income, I'd advise you against bothering to blow anyone. As it is, I have to assume you're just fucking around..." He backed off and wandered away, ignoring Tabitha's limited but heartfelt appeals for another chance. Actually, what she was TRYING to get across was a request for the removal of the ring gag and a sincere promise not to do anything stupid while blowing him afterward -- but he wasn't listening. In a moment, the bastard returned, with a hammer and four HUGE nails. What the fuck? It didn't take long before Tabitha found out. The purpose of the loosely-nailed chunk of plywood on the side of the sawhorse became obvious, too, as Dumbjohn knelt and place the tip of a nail on the middle of the drape of Tabitha's saggy left breast. "You can't say I didn't warn you..." Tabitha's eyes widened in horror, and she shook her head frantically, but the hammer descended -- and she got out a fine attempt at a steam-whistle scream as the bluntly pointed 16d nail plunged into her mammary tissues. Dumbjohn gave the nail a couple of additional sharp raps to get it through the plywood and out of his way, then stood back to register the effect of his efforts. This was being filmed, too, from another camera angle; Tabitha's tear-stained face appeared on a monitor out of her visual field behind her and to her left, but the real thing was somehow more satisfying. Tabitha didn't faint again, but was suffering terribly -- it felt as if he'd ripped her tit clean off! Looking at it hurt her mentally almost as much as the actuality hurt her physically, and it was right in front of her face. Her face was a gooey mess of tears and snot and slobber from crying, pain, and uncontrolled drooling around the ring gag. "I warned you," Dumbjohn murmured reproachfully. "Shall we try again?" Tabitha couldn't see how things were going to improve, so with a serious effort of will, she tried to get her tormentor's attention. "IIIIII aaaaaaaa ooooowww!" she wailed, trying her best to hold his eyes. Dumbjohn cocked his head. "What was that?" "Oooooowww!" Tabitha repeated, pushing on the ring with her tongue. "You want the gag out? I don't think so -- you'd be tempted to bite. Of course, I'd kill you with the first thing that came to hand..." He eyed the hammer still clutched in his right hand. Tabitha shook her head furiously, trying to impart sincerity to her impassioned,"Oooooooo... Uh uh! Eeeeese!!!" Dumbjohn rubbed his chin. "You seem sincere..." Tabitha nodded frantically. Hmmmm, was it worth the risk? Well, if nothing else, he could let her beg... He reached behind her head and released the gag. Immediately it was out, Tabitha tried to talk, "Oooh, tank oo, tank oo... I be good, I promise!" Slowly, she began to be able to talk. "I can't suck proper around that thing... "Hmmph," Dumbjohn grunted. "Next you'll want your hands..." "It'd help! I can't go anywhere, tacked to a board..." Tabitha realized that she'd gone too far when the sonofabitch torturing her got a speculative look on his face. "Uh, but it's not important. I've got my mouth -- that's enough..." It was too late, though; Dumbjohn was thinking. "So, what COULD you do with your hands free?" "Ummm, jack the shaft... Play with your balls... Some guys like prostate massage... The usual..." Why didn't it seem smart to get too enthusiastic, here? "I'm gonna be good! The shit that's gone down so far -- well, I ain't got energy to get stupid, and I got the message 'bout talkin' shit... I can get by with my mouth, without the gag -- promise! You'll love it!" "Hmmm. I might like the options, too..." He tapped a fingertip on the head of the nail, something Tabitha cringed at, thinking it would hurt more, but it didn't, since it didn't move. She did, though, and that was bad enough... "But this isn't THAT big -- if you got up the guts, you could wrench yourself free..." He wandered off, leaving Tabitha wondering what was coming next and cursing herself for falling into his verbal trap. In a couple of minutes, Dumbjohn returned, carrying a handful of wide, galvanized roofing washers, used to hold down tar paper. "These will do the job," he announced tossing them up and catching them. He then proceeded to dribble alcohol on them. Tabitha watched, wondering how he was going to put one of those things on the existing nail, and why would he think he needed four? Then the light dawned. "Awww SHIT! I REALLY don' need my hands! Maybe I could jus' give you a rim job or somethin'? PLEEEEAAAASE!" But this last wail was uttered as Dumbjohn slipped a nail through one of the washers and placed it against the matching point of her right breast. Whack! "AWWWWWWW!! GODDAM!! GODDAM!! SHIT! SHIT! FUCK! FUCK! AHHHHHHH!!!!!!" Tabitha had full use of her mouth this time, and the whole world knew it! Whack! "AAAAHHHH!!! JEEZUS!!!" Whack! "AAAAUUUUGGGHHHH!!" Dumbjohn added to things by putting his hands under both sides of her flattened tit and lifting. "OGODOGODOGOD!!! NOOOOO!" Tabitha screeched. Dumbjohn let go. "Guess that works..." He pondered the other breast. "This one is still a problem..." Tears were raining everywhere. "It-it's fine, really! One like that is enough! God! Please!" "I have a thing for symmetry..." Dumbjohn squatted down and began banging at the tip of the nail in Tabitha's left breast, backing it out. "AHHH! GOD!!!" Worse than the pain of the impacts was the kind of squishy feel of the nail sliding back through Tabitha's breast tissues. On the way in, it hadn't been so bad... "I'm gonna puke..." Dumbjohn blinked and snatched the bucket back over under her head just in time; Tabitha emptied her guts into it -- what was left that hadn't shot out her ass, anyway. That wasn't much, but the accompanying retching SUCKED since she ended up dragging on her abused breasts... Dumbjohn went back to rapping, and Tabitha hung there, moaning. A few taps later, the blunted tip of the nail was flush with the underside of the plywood. Dumbjohn went and got a small block of two-by- four to give him leverage from which to pull it out the rest of the way. Laying it over the edge of Tabitha's breast offered a way to bruise the shit out of her and cause her intense pain, but Dumbjohn decided not to. Instead, he snugged the block up next to the abused flesh and pulled the nail with the hammer's claw. The nail made this sickening sound coming back out through the flesh, and Tabitha retched some more from the sickening feeling that went with it. Dumbjohn tossed the blunted nail in the bucket, and selected another, ringing it with a washer. "I assume that you want me to go through the same hole?" Tabitha rested her head on her right arm, panting. "P-please?" Vaguely, her mind examined what she was asking him to do -- but it was better than the alternative... Dumbjohn picked up Tabitha's flattened dug and began trying to force the nail through the existing wound; Tabitha wailed, "Oh, God!" and began to retch again as the nail slowly penetrated her tissues. Dumbjohn grunted, "Dunno if this is really working. Maybe I ought to just bang it through again..." But the point popped through, as he discovered that he could manipulate the slut's breast flesh to ensure that the entry and exit wounds were the same, even if the path of passage between wasn't exactly the same. He lined the point of the nail up with the existing hole and pounded it through. By this time, Tabitha barely managed to do more than moan pitifully -- she lacked the energy to scream. The nail went in easier than on the last pass; Dumbjohn wondered aloud, "Maybe I should toenail it?" "Noooo!!! God! God!" Tabitha wailed. Dumbjohn forbore, not necessarily because of her entreaties, but because the points, sticking straight out, would be more of a problem to her, later. A tug on the breast in question caused wails, but no movement of the nail. He reached down and untied the ropes holding Tabitha's arms to the legs of the sawhorse. Then he made certain that nothing she could use to assist her in her predicament was nearby. Dumbjohn stood up. God himself wouldn't get much of a blowjob out of her right now. Best to let her settle for a few minutes. "I'm going to go get a drink." He unscrewed the cap on his squirt bottle of the mouthwash-alcohol-salt mixture and put it near Tabitha's right hand, which hadn't moved appreciably since its release. "Rinse your mouth with that. I'm not sticking my dick into a vomitorium. If your breath isn't sweet when I come back, I'll use the hose on your upper end!" Tabitha nodded feebly, and Dumbjohn reached up and delivered a ringing swat to her ass, "That's Yes, Sir, slut!" "Yessir!" Tabitha managed to drag her head up. "Yessir!" she repeated dully, and her head flopped back. Dumbjohn shook his head. If Rodday didn't want her back on the street so soon, it might have been fun to teach the feisty bitch discipline -- but he only had a few hours with this one; Rodday wanted her back on the street, one way or another. The jury was still out on whether she'd be breathing... She was toast. Time to go get that drink, and let her get used to her various injuries... He headed upstairs without making any further comment. Once upstairs, he turned on his monitor in the kitchen. He had full coverage of his 'slave pens'; generally, he recorded everything, and in any case, surveillance was a big part of keeping a slave or other victim in line. This bitch (Dumbjohn forgot her name) definitely came under the heading of 'other victim' -- Dumbjohn couldn't imagine a white slaver who would want her wasted ass. If he was making a slave, Dumbjohn preferred young runaways; virginity could be highly prized, but in general, his customers preferred docility and encyclopedic knowledge of methods of inducing sexual pleasure. Young runaways gravitated to amateur prostitution to live, which usually brought a fine case of low self-esteem that Dumbjohn could use to his benefit during training. Their amateurism also made them easy to catch... He sipped a bottled water and watched Tabitha begin feebly moving around. The breast-nailing thing had proven to be major entertainment; next time he was hired to torture a woman, he'd have to repeat it. Slaves generally sold better without a lot of scars and marks -- especially on the tops of their breasts -- but a torture victim, especially one to be disposed of quietly after, imposed no such limitations. The end of Dumbjohn's break was signaled when Tabitha fumbled for the squirt bottle, almost spilling it, and brought it to her lips. He watched her swish the mixture around in her mouth, grimacing at the pain it brought to her piercing, and spit it out, then go for another. Bitch was game -- you had to give her that... Dumbjohn sucked down the last of the water, shut of the TV, and hit the stairs. Three hours to go... Tabitha was just finishing her third rinse when the sounds of his entrance alerted her to her tormentor's presence. She spat in the bucket and looked up at him. Her tits still hurt like Hell, and she was uncomfortable from her position, invasions in her ass and her cunt, and other indignities, but things had settled a bit, and she DAMNED SURE didn't want this bastard to come up with anything ELSE to punish her for poor performance. "Feeling better?" he asked, mock-solicitously. "Uuuh, sorta. Used to it, maybe..." she grunted, wondering if she'd just triggered another round of torture. "Ready to show me what a world-famous cocksucker you are?" Dumbjohn taunted. "Uh huh," Tabitha kept it simple. "Ummm, I'm kinda messy..." THAT was an understatement. Her face was coated in tears and snot above her mouth; add slobber below. Much had dripped onto her tits, to mix with the blood from the nail punctures, and even her arms -- basically, her whole upper half was covered with secretions. Dumbjohn pondered this; he could hose her off, but that would just make her dripping wet and slow things down... He went to the side of the room and collected a towel and, on second thought, a washcloth, which he wet in warm water. He handed her the washcloth. "Here. Wash. First thing you've done right -- well, maybe the second..." Tabitha rubbed her face in silence, then did her arms and neck, finishing with her bloody tits. Dumbjohn took the washrag and dropped it in the slop bucket, then handed her the towel. "Don't bother with THEM," he admonished, pointing at her breasts. "You're gonna slobber all over them again, anyway, and I don't want a bloody towel." Tabitha took note of this, and what it meant. Her ass was still dead, probably. Well, she was still alive, for now; maybe... She did as she was told, and returned the towel. He tossed it aside, "Ready?" Tabitha nodded, bracing herself up with one hand. Dumbjohn bored in, and Tabitha took it. He was just long enough to lodge in her throat, but that was okay; she was gonna give him the blowjob of his life is she choked to death doing it... Ewww, poor choice of thought... She wished she wasn't so dry; it would be better if she had more saliva to lather him up with. Well, pulling him into her throat would help start the spit machine... She wrapped her thumb and forefinger around the base of his cock and worked him deep, then backed off and corkscrewed her mouth around his shaft. Her full lips felt wonderful, and the tongue work... The tongue work wasn't a lot of fun for Tabitha, because of her new tongue piercing, but she worked with it; she did NOT want to piss this sonofabitch off any more than necessary... She milked his shaft with her hand, following her tightly ovalled lips and imparting the illusion of penetrating a tight sheath to him. Thank God he was uncircumcised -- that meant that her hand was moving the foreskin back and forth instead of trying to slide comfortably on the layer of her spit on the shaft. She couldn't rise up much; having her tits tacked to the board limited her movement. Dumbjohn wasn't comfortable, but, to be fair, it wasn't her fault... He backed off and she whined, "What? I was doin' my best!" Dumbjohn said nothing, but rather went off to the side to collect a low, padded stool to kneel upon. When he came back, Tabitha's relief was palpable. She took him back in and began cradling his balls, working her thumb along the tufts of hair at the base of his shaft. Dumbjohn was frankly amazed; this was one of the best blowjobs he could remember. He'd planned to hold onto her head and choke-fuck her, but the corkscrew thing she was doing with her mouth was sooooo good... In no time, his balls began to simmer; he rode with it until he was on the verge of the point of no return, then abruptly withdrew, squeezing the base of his cock to keep from ejaculating. "Okay," he panted. "That was damned good..." He circled around behind her. "Now for some pussy..." He stopped and put on a rubber, both for protection and to distance him from the sensations of his recent near orgasm. Tabitha's nether lips were bloody from the bottle-brush episode, and Dumbjohn was going to capitalize on his earlier effort, something not to Tabitha's benefit... "That twat has had a lot of mileage, and even the cleaning I gave it earlier doesn't guarantee I'm safe in it, sooo..." Dumbjohn sucked up another turkey baster-load of alcohol and squirted it inside Tabitha's defenseless twat. "AIIIIEEEEEE!!!! AAAUUUUUGGGHHHH!!!" Tabitha's vagina, a mass of cuts and abrasions from the brush, was a font of agony. Dumbjohn didn't allow her time to recover, but began nosing his rubber-clad cock between her labia while she was still screeching and thrashing. "YOU BASTARD!" Tabitha screeched, pain leaching all control from her. "You sonofabitch! Oh, GAWD, it hurts! Aaaaahhhhhhh!!!" Dumbjohn, actually perversely tickled by Tabitha's outburst, socketed himself and began to pump. "You better work that street-educated twat, bitch, or that's just a taste of things to come!" Only the fact that she was used to dealing with the extra friction generated by a rubber made the whole thing approach being tolerable, but the sonofabitch struck a chord in her. Okay, her pussy felt like he was shoving around ground glass in there, but it wouldn't be the first time she'd worked when it hurt -- she was a professional, by fuckin' God! Putting some effort into it she got the thing moving; she clenched, she pulsed, she rose to meet him as best she could, given her predicament. She couldn't manage the proper happy noises, but since the rat bastard was torturing the fuck out of her anyway, he probably didn't want to hear them... "Jeezus, that fuckin' hurts! C'mon, you sorry sumbitch, get your jollies! You cut the motherfucker up, but even YOU gotta admit it's good shit! Cum, you bastard! Aaaahhh! Damn!" Dumbjohn had to admit she was worth the ride. She might be a burnt- out doper, but that pussy of hers was a well-oiled machine! And the noises she was making? Well, they DID kind of tickle his sadistic side... As many dicks as had been in that thing, you'd think you could drive a tank into it, but it was clutching and pulsing and gyrating... Orgasm sneaked up on Dumbjohn like it had on countless numbers of Tabitha's other customers, and he grunted and poured his seed into the rubber in pulsing gouts; Tabitha saw to it that each one got an echoing clasp from her channel. Maybe she could empty him out in one pass... Dumbjohn backed out, gasping, and pulled off the rubber. "You may be a two-dollar whore, but at least you're WORTH the two dollars." "I'm a FIFTY dollar whore!" Tabitha grated through the pain. "For stupid muthafuckahs, I'm a HUNNERD dollar whore! Fuckin' two dollars..." Anger gave her a defense against the pain, and she used it, panting. Dumbjohn laughed and came around front. "Awright, shut up and suck! Get me ready for round two!" "Shit," Tabitha grumbled under her breath. She'd kind of hoped he'd not be capable of a second pass... Fucker had big balls, though. She cradled them in her left hand and went to work, cleaning the leftover goo off him as she vacuumed him in. It took a bit of work; the fucker was well on his way to being limp when he presented the thing for service, so she had to coddle it to get it going again. After a couple of minutes, it began to re-surge; as it stiffened, she challenged it with more action and more friction, going deep, and corkscrewing the head, pumping the shaft. In five minutes, it was full- size, hard, and throbbing; Dumbjohn let her bring him a good distance along, because the next penetration would be tougher... "All right, it's time to sample that last hole," Dumbjohn announced, pulling back. He went to the tray and collected a rubber and a jar. He put the rubber on and pumped a few times to keep things going, then dipped into the jar to wipe the goo on the tip, not taking it too far. Then he took another dollop and started feeding it through Tabitha's sphincter. Tabitha knew what was coming, and tightening up wouldn't help it, so she cooperated, flowering open her anus for his probing finger. After all, he was lubing her up... Dumbjohn snatched a towel and wiped off his hands; in that three seconds, Tabitha discovered she'd been had! "Goddamn! That shit burns! What the fuck have you done THIS time!" she screeched. "I had some Ben-Gay laying around -- thought it might make a good lubricant," Dumbjohn chuckled, nosing his cock against her now cringing sphincter. "I didn't want you to get loose and sloppy!" 'Well, he's managed THAT!' Tabitha thought distantly as she ranted and raved to the burning pain. Her asshole burned like fire, and as a result, she couldn't unclench it, consciously... The silly bitch was screaming and crying and having a fit, but despite the instinctive desire to keep him out, her asshole was too well educated to totally deny him access, so Dumbjohn slowly sank his length into her, spreading the 'lubricant' to new tissues and adding to the fire. He held onto the towel, and didn't go TOO deep; he didn't want that stuff flowing back over the rubber to his cock shaft, after all... When he was in as deeply as he figured was safe, he tied a rag around the base of his cock and started pumping. It was HOT in there; the Ben-Gay was warming things above their already cozy normal temperature, adding to his pleasure while extending her pain. Tabitha's squalls were music to his ears, giving him an added incentive to pound away, carried away by the pleasure, both physical and sadistically mental. Tabitha had lost it; this latest attack was too much, and sanity slipped away while she screamed and cried and ranted imprecations that weren't even words. Pain clamped her tight, everywhere, and that led to muscle cramps and Charlie-horses, adding to her agony. Then everything went black... When everything but her asshole went slack, that was the final trigger; Dumbjohn came, spurting into a rubber for the second time in twenty minutes. 'Pretty amazing', he thought. 'I need to train slaves to this standard... ' He backed off, carefully cleaning up to avoid getting any ointment on him, and got back into his underwear and trousers. By the time he'd finished that and put on a new pair of rubber gloves, Tabitha was moaning her way toward consciousness. Picking up the ring gag, he re-mounted it before Tabitha had her wits about her, then, checking the time, began planning next steps. Dumbjohn enjoyed piercings; he enjoyed the look of them, and he enjoyed doing them -- creating that look of shocked pain in a slave while she was being marked forever, provided with sensitive locations from which she could be led and controlled. This cunt was a lot of fun; under other circumstances, he'd have pierced her labia multiple times, then sewed her cunt shut with a nice finger of peeled, aged ginger inside. But the clock was ticking, so Dumbjohn would have to settle for quicker things... Those dugs of hers were an obvious target... Tabitha swam slowly up to consciousness -- and wished she'd stayed out. Her ass still burned, her pussy felt like raw hamburger, her skewered tits throbbed, her tongue... Shit, the list was endless! Add muscle cramps from tension and her position, and she was barely holding on -- and here he came again! Dumbjohn took Tabitha's wrists and re-bound them to the sawhorse legs, one by one. She tried to struggle a bit at first, but in her predicament, she'd have never won when fresh, and she was FAR from THAT! "All right," he announced, "now that I've enjoyed all of your holes, we can move on and add a few touches to improve your presentation." He wandered over to his instrument tray and began digging around. "I thought about it while you were out and decided that you really ought to bow to fashion and get nipple rings. Since you obviously haven't the nerve to do it yourself, I've decided to handle the hard part for you..." He turned toward her with a large needle in one hand -- the one he'd used on her tongue or its evil twin -- and an alcohol swab and a cork in the other. He knelt to swab Tabitha's left nipple and Tabitha decided to try a line of moderate resistance. Watching him with slightly bulging eyes, she shook her head emphatically. Dumbjohn merely grinned. Since that failed, she tried to make herself understood around the ring gag, "Aw, co ah, eeeee oh!" ('Aw, c'mon, please, no!'). Dumbjohn blew on the nipple and manipulated it a bit, and it betrayed her, extending from her crinkling areola. Tabitha's nipples hadn't really been able to go totally flat since she nursed Nate, and in general, it had been a drawing card; fear and the cool wash of air produced exactly the effect that Dumbjohn wanted, much to Tabitha's despair. Dumbjohn dropped the wipe in the slop bucket and set the cork next to the exposed bud, "Oh, oh, ee!" ('No, no, please!'), aligned the needle for penetration, "Iii, o OO ii!" ('Shit, don't DO this!'), and jammed it through, "AAAAAUUUGH! SIIII!" ('AAAAUUUGH! SHIIIT!'). Dumbjohn placidly centered the large needle in the wound so that equal amounts of steel poked from both sides of the wounded bit of gristle while Tabitha tried her damnedest to impart the concept of "muthafuckin' sumbitch" past the ring gag. It was a pretty decent piercing job, probably because the silly bitch couldn't flinch... "My, we're noisy!" He got up and put in the rubber stopper and snapped the flat rubber cover into place over it. Next, he turned to his tray and selected another needle and another wipe. Tabitha's eyes bulged, and Dumbjohn grinned, "I TOLD you I had a thing for symmetry!" This time he played with her, watching her eyes and listening to the muffled "MMMMMM! MMMMM!" noises that were all the gag would pass. The nipple popped right up, just as the other one had, and perhaps even exceeded the other's growth while he teased and played with it, wiping it and blowing on the alcohol and manipulating it between his fingers. He'd set the needle and barely prick her with it, watching her sweat while her eyes bugged and muffled wails escaped the gag. Finally, he went ahead, but slowly this time, forcing it past the tissues while Tabitha screamed twice through the gag. Finished, he stepped back. "That's nice, don't you think?" He chuckled; whatever the silly bitch was trying to force past the gag, agreement wasn't a component of it. He glanced at his watch. Time was flying, and he had one final bit of detailing he wanted to attend to... Tabitha's nipples burned like fire. What was it with this bastard? How long was this going to go on? Some things he did obviously because he wanted her to hurt; for others, that seemed secondary... Did that mean she was gonna live through this? To be what? Somebody's slave bitch? He'd done his damnedest to bust her ass and her pussy, but he'd stuck that thing in her tongue... If she was gonna live, whoever he gave her to was gonna have to stick to blowjobs for a while -- shit, her pussy might be busted PERMANENTLY! Oh, Lordy! What was he gonna do NOW? The last item on Dumbjohn's agenda, which was gilding the lily, actually, was to take two rubber bands and loop them over the embedded needles, then stretch them down to the bottom edge of the plywood and back up to loop over the ends of the nails piercing Tabitha's tits. Tabitha started screaming bloody murder instantly, but the gag muffled things quite a bit. Dumbjohn stood and contemplated her for a bit; the bitch wasn't calling him names -- apparently she didn't have resources left to do that with. Instead, it appeared to be one long, wordless scream, punctuated by short pauses while she sucked in air for the next outburst. You could see the whites of her eyes all the was around the pupils, and every vein in her face and neck, not to mention the cords and tendons there... "Hmmmm. That's gotta hurt..." It sure did! Tabitha was 'WAY beyond rational thought! Her nipples were being torn out at the roots! It went on and on and on... ... Until Dumbjohn stepped up and murmured, "Now it's time to say goodbye..." and pinched off her nose again. Tabitha didn't hear him; she didn't even FEEL him, initially, but suddenly there was no more air to scream with. After only a moment's futile struggle, blackness closed in. Dumbjohn didn't kill her. He and Rodday had agreed that if possible, it was better to return her to the street to tell her tale than to just leave her spectacularly dead. Once she was unconscious, he injected her with an agent that would maintain her state while he returned her to town and began cleaning things up. He pulled the loose nails that held the plywood to the sawhorse -- she'd be taking THAT with her -- then undid her and laid her out on the floor on her back while he washed away most of the evidence and incinerated the rest. Tabitha's 'brassiere' made the return trip in the car impractical, so he brought around the unmarked white van he used when more privacy was required and loaded her into it. At four forty- five in the morning, he wheeled into an alley around the block from Tabitha's normal stomping grounds, laid her out in it next to a dumpster and drove off. There were no witnesses. ------- Chapter 24: Various Interviews in a Hospital Room Tabitha started swimming toward consciousness around five-thirty. It was slow going, at first because of the sedative, and after because her mind shrank away from the wall of agony that being fully awake brought with it. Dumbjohn had kept her clothing; he'd tied her wrists behind her with a plastic cable tie, but left her legs unfettered. Also present was her wooden brassiere -- her breasts were still nailed to the plywood and her nipples were still pierced and stretched by the rubber bands. Between the dull agony of the nails and the sharper pain of the stressed piercings, Tabitha would have welcomed a double mastectomy. The alleyway road surface was cold; it was in the mid-fifties, which is just a bit too cool to be good for someone stretched out naked on the ground. This added exposure to blood loss from various wounds and debilitating pain. On top of everything else, the nail tips had bored shallow flesh-wounds in her ribs... Any movement made things worse. The loss of the use of her hands made attempting to sit up an agonizing, iffy process. The gag was gone, but pain robbed her of any ability to project her voice. It was six forty-five before anyone heard her plaintive cries for help; then came the obligatory interminable delay for the police and the paramedics... The team in the ER had frankly never seen anything like it. The initial plan was to cut off the nail heads, but the roofing washers protected them too well. Besides, any grinding or sawing transmitted itself to Tabitha. The paramedics had removed the rubber bands, which brought things down quite a bit as far as the pain went, but Tabitha was still shocky. Finally, they used a two by four and a couple of C-clamps to press the tips of the nails back to something resembling flush with the plywood, and pulled them with a claw hammer as Dumbjohn had. They bandaged various wounds, gave her a tetanus shot, and moved her up to the ward. Tabitha raised a ruckus over the needles, declaiming, "The fuckin' things are pierced -- might as well leave 'em that way. Git me somethin' to stick in the holes before you pull the goddamn needles out!" The nurse shrugged, irrigated the piercings, and left the needles in place. After that came a short, useless interview with a police detective. Both of them knew who was behind the attack, but both of them ALSO knew that there was no way they'd be able to pin it on him -- and Tabitha said as much, "Even if we get the bastard did this, we won't pin it on the asshole who ordered it. This muthafuckah was good, too -- you ain't catchin' HIM, either!" The cop nodded and shrugged, took her statement, and left. Nate got the word at school; when he left home that morning, he was unconcerned, since his Mama had been known to stay out for days when she felt like it. So when Principal Hollenbeck's voice over the intercom interrupted Industrial Arts class with, "Please send Nate Adams to my office," Nate looked up, frowned, and muttered, "I ain't done nothin'..." Coach Johnson scribbled him a hall pass and nodded toward the door; for him, the jury was still out over whether Nate had done anything or not. This wasn't Nate's first visit with the Principal by any means, but the secretary was missing her usual look of irritation when she noted his presence. She buzzed the Principal on the intercom, "Nate Adams is here." "Send him in." 'What? No stewin' in the hall first?' Nate wondered, as he strode to the door. He opened it and Mr. Hollenbeck, on the phone, waved him into a seat. Nate settled warily. In a moment, Mr. Hollenbeck pinched of the call and looked up. "Son, I have bad news." "I ain't done nothing." "Anything." "I ain't done anything." Hollenbeck rolled his eyes. "That's not at issue, here." He sighed. "I called you in because the police called me, looking for you; your mother was attacked last night." "Shit." Nate studied the floor. So, it had finally gone down. Mama'd been lucky for quite a while... "She dead?" "No, but she's hospitalized. She was rather thoroughly raped, and pretty fiendishly tortured, I'm told. The police said that she's going to recover, but she had exposure, some wounds, blood loss... You should go on up to the hospital and see her. I told them that you were here as usual, and their interest in you as a suspect dropped off." Hollenbeck eyed Nate. "I take it that she didn't come home last night." Nate shrugged. "Night before, either. She runs with a rough bunch. Lotsa times, I see her when I see her." "I see." Hollenbeck sighed. Having had to chase her on occasion when Nate was in trouble for something, he was aware that she 'worked nights', and had a pretty good idea what Ms. Adams did for a living... "I'm going to excuse you so that you can go to the hospital. Call me if you need to be out tomorrow." "Uh, thank you, Sir." Nate got up and handled Hollenbeck his hall pass to receive the proper signoffs. "Good luck, Son." "Uh, thanks." Neither of the pair was used to dealing with the other amicably, so both were oddly uncomfortable at the parting. As the door closed, Hollenbeck picked up the phone to call the police detective, wondering if relating the contents of the interview with him was entrapment. Apparently, it wasn't in Nate's case; while the boy seemed unsurprised that his mother might be attacked in general, it was also pretty clear that he hadn't expected anything last night in particular... Nate went back to IA and gathered up his things. Coach eyed him warily, so he displayed the Principal's note. "Goin' home. Family problem." He cleared out and went to his locker, dumping his stuff and collecting his coat. Second period was about over, anyway, so he headed over to the English Department to catch Nora as she popped out of class. His timing was just about perfect; the bell rang as he arrived at the door. Nora sensed trouble as soon as she looked at him. "Honey, what's up?" "Gotta go to the hospital. Somebody beat the shit out of Mama." Nate looked seriously off his feed. Things were settling in. The shock was over and he was off automatic, actually thinking about it. "Want me to go, too?" "Nah. This was always somethin' that could happen. It just never has, before. I'll go get a look and call you." "Okay. If you need anything, let me know. Maybe I can come up at lunch." Nora was worried for Nate; he was starting to look kind of pasty grey. "Okay. I'll call you when I know more." Nora bussed him on the cheek and he returned it, then turned away, distracted. Nora watched him go, troubled, then got a move on, headed for her next class. At her locker, it suddenly occurred to her that this might be related to the attack on her mother, so Nora snatched her phone out of her purse and called the newest number programmed into it. "Wilson." "Daddy?" "Nora?" "Daddy, somebody beat up Nate's mother last night. She's in the hospital. You don't think..." Armand blinked. The obvious answer was 'No', but he couldn't afford to BE that obvious. Besides, this was going to be an issue with Nora and her boyfriend. "I doubt it -- Nate's mother is in a somewhat dangerous profession, so it is probably unrelated. But I'll have an investigation started." "Thanks, Daddy." "Thank YOU, Daughter. Good thinking." Armand hung up. It gave him an odd glow that she should come to him for support... "Get me Witherspoon," he directed his secretary, Charlene. ------- It took forty-five minutes for Nate to get to the hospital and run down his mother's room. He blew off the gift shop, figuring seeing her sooner was better than coming later with something stupid in his hands. Women were weird, but maybe not THAT weird... "Mama?" "Nate?" Tabitha sat up. " 'Bout time..." "I was in school..." She didn't LOOK that bad... "You okay? I figured..." "Most of it don't show," his mother replied. "He fucked up my ass and my pussy on the insides, and he did this..." She flipped down the covers to expose her bandaged breasts. Nate looked -- and couldn't see much. They were all bandaged... "What'd he do?" "Nailed 'em to a board," his mother replied flatly. "An' he pierced the nipples, too. Oh, an' this..." She stuck out her tongue. "Forgot to mention that to the docs." "Shit!" Nate shook his head. "Who was it?" "Dunno," Tabitha grunted. "Professional. This guy's fucked up women before." There was a tap on the door. "Can I listen in?" There was a muscular white guy, forty or so, with a mustache, there. "You a cop?" Tabitha asked suspiciously. "Nope, P I. But looks to me like you were on the right side of the law for this one..." "I cain't hire no private investigators. Run along..." "I work for Armand Wilson." That got the man two amazed looks. "Say what?" Tabitha blurted. "Mr. Wilson keeps the firm I work for on retainer. Given the relationship between your son and his daughter, he would like us to see if we can't discover who did this and get you a little payback, if not 'justice'." The man put quote marks around the term with his fingers. "There is the possibility that this was meant as an attack on him, as his ex-wife was also attacked yesterday -- but even if the attacks are unrelated we're prepared to bring resources to bear to discover the perpetrators that aren't too closely fettered by the law..." Tabitha shook her head. "I will be dipped in shit..." Nate scratched his head. "Yeah, I see that." Turning to his mother, he amplified, "Three guys pretending to be plumbers showed up at Nora's Mama's place and stuck dicks in her about everywhere. They moved back in with her Daddy last night." "They fuck her up?" Tabitha asked. "Nope, jus' fucked her. Three at a time was kinda new, though." Tabitha cackled, winced, and turned to the investigator. "So, what do I call ya?" "Paul. Paul Matheson." The PI came forward and extended a hand. Tabitha took it, but she watched his eyes. "Okay, what d'ya wanta hear?" "Everything." Matheson took out a tape recorder. "Whatever you told the cops, and whatever else is relevant. I don't care what you were doing, for instance. Well, I want to know, but I'm not going to be judgmental." He grinned. Tabitha nodded warily. "Okay. You know what I do, right?" Matheson was up-front. "Prostitute, right?" "Yeh. I got a strip of sidewalk off the corner of Fourteenth and Womack. Mebbe nine o'clock, the john wheels around the corner. Nice car..." "Make?" "Ummmm, Beemer, I think. German. Anyway, I wave the merchandise and he pulls up an' rolls down the window, an' we start negotiating." "What did he look like?" "Average. Wasn't nothin' special 'bout him, anywhere. Nice suit. Thinning hair. Forty, maybe. Acted like he knew basically what the plan was, but he'd never actually done it, so I got ready to whip my higher price list on him. Then, no warning, he sucker-punches me." She shook her head. "When I woke up later, I had a needle mark; dunno how long I was out. This guy was a pro. He had everything laid out, everything planned. I was in some basement, somewhere -- I think." "What could you see?" "Dark room, cement walls, wood floor. Well, there was wood everywhere I could see. There was tile behind me -- a big, open shower, I guess. I never saw it, but he said sumpthin' 'bout tile an' a drain durin' the enema." "Enema?" Nate echoed. "Yeah. Lemme get through this in one pass, Boy, an' we can go back for loose shit after!" She leaned back. "Ummm. I was bent over a sawhorse, an' my arms an' legs was tied to it. Couldn't see behind me under the sawhorse 'cause there was a hunk of plywood tacked to it. He said sumpthin' 'bout my luck runnin' out -- like I didn't know THAT -- an' mumbled sumpthin' 'bout I shoulda had a pimp. I got feisty with him an' he slapped the shit outta me, 'bout a half-dozen times. While my head was spinnin', he stuck this dentist's gadget between my jaws, an' jacked 'em wide open." Tabitha paused. "Boy, would you get me some water outta that pitcher, there?" She nodded at the tray table against the wall. "Sure." Nate collected a paper cup, poured, and handed it to his mother. Tabitha thanked him with her eyes while she gulped down several swallows. As Nate took the cup to refill it, she continued her tale, "Anyway, I was fucked -- couldn't hardly talk. Bastard announced that he liked blowjobs from women wit' their tongues pierced. He got a hold of my tongue with some tongs and stuck a big fucking needle through it, then replaced it with this..." She stuck out her tongue. "Hurt like Hell, an' you could tell he was milkin' it for that. He squirted some shit in my mouth -- said it was Listerine, alcohol, an' salt -- an' got a big kick outta me yellin' at the pain." "Big needle?" Matheson asked his first question since the start. "How big?" "Say, this long?" Tabitha measured out about four and a half inches. Paul looked dubious, and Tabitha grunted. "Awright, you two help me wit' this wrap..." Paul stepped forward, not knowing why, and Nate got the clips from the Ace bandage wrapped around Tabitha's saggy bust. The two of them took up positions on either side of the bed and handed the roll to each other for the six passes it took to get down to gauze padding. Tabitha lifted packing from her nipples, revealing the needles still piercing them. " 'Bout THAT long." Nate's eyes bugged. Tabitha glared at him challengingly and said, "Since the bastard did 'em, I might as well keep 'em. Get me somethin' proper to replace these fuckin' things, willya? Damned ER docs wouldn't put in anything -- I had to piss an' moan to get 'em to leave these for now." Matheson was non-plussed. "Sorry I disbelieved you. Some people's perceptions get distorted at times like this..." " 'S'okay." Tabitha waved it off. "While we're here..." She peeled the surgical tape off the wound on the upper side of her left breast, grimacing. "He did THAT with a big fuckin' nail -- nailed 'em both to the plywood! Cops got pictures..." Nate was weaving a little. "Siddown, boy, before ya fall down. It's over, an' I guess I'm gonna make it. Let's get this shit put back together before a fuckin' nurse shows up..." The rewrap wasn't as professional-looking as the original, but it did the job. Tabitha resumed, "Anyway, then he like to drowned me, rinsing my mouth wit' a garden hose. Fucker was enjoyin' hisself. Then he put a ring gag on me. You know what a ring gag is, don'tcha?" Matheson, somewhat embarrassed, nodded. "Well, this 'un was special. He had a buncha rings, an' he custom fitted it, like. Then he stuck a rubber stopper in it, an' he snapped this strap over that to keep me from pushin' it out wit' my tongue. Like THAT was gonna happen... Anyway, the thing also had a flat ring of thin rubber on it, bigger than my mouth. Sonofabitch pinched my nose, an' I couldn't breathe through the mess! Thought I was gonna die! Fucker waited til I wasn't hardly there before he let up..." Tabitha nodded toward the water, and Nate handed her the cup. After a sip, she continued, "Then he went 'round back. Oh, he pulled the stopper out so he could listen to me makin' noise -- he said as much." She grunted. "Big joke was he was cleanin' me up -- that was his excuse for a bunch of shit... He sucked up some stuff in a big bulb, like an ear bulb -- soap, I think. I hope to fuck it was soap! And he shot it in my ass. THEN, he took this cone tip, screwed it on a garden hose, an' poured I don't fucking know HOW much cold goddamned water in my ass!" She shivered, remembering. "It was soooo cold... My stomach felt like it swelled up to where it was when I was eight months out with Nate..." She shivered again. "He pulled it out an' I probly shot shit forty feet -- but I was out of it. The cold..." She shook herself. "Oh, yeah. Bastard was makin' a video! He had a camera on my ass while he pumped that shit in, an' he pulled a TV over in front of me so I could watch!" She hung her head. "An' I couldn't look away..." She shook herself. "Cramps was awful. I fuckin' passed out watchin' shit squirt everywhere..." She shook her head. "I THINK he did me again, with warmer water, but I ain't sure. All I know is when I woke up when he threw some water in my face, an' I was warm again an' it felt like some time had gone by..." Matheson was shaking his head. "Pretty wild..." "Gets worse," Tabitha asserted. "Sumbitch shoved a bottle brush up my twat an' went to town with the fuckin' thing! I think he scraped all the lining outta my pussy! And THEN, the fucker took a turkey baster and shot alcohol up there! Jeezus fuckin' Christ! I passed out again, sometime in there, but came to pretty quick." She sipped from the cup. "Fucker decided I was clean, so he came around an' stuck his cock in my mouth through the gag, wantin' head. But I couldn't work -- God knows I didn't feel like screwing around with the muthafuckah! -- the goddamned ring gag and the tongue stud got in the fuckin' way. He got all pissed off, an' said I was fuckin' around on him; next thing I know, he's standin' there with a hammer and a bunch of big fuckin' nails..." She gathered herself, took a breath. "He nailed the left one, an' it hurt like fuck -- then he starts talkin' 'bout what'd happen if things didn't get better. I dunno how I did it, but I managed to get across the idea that I'd do better without the fuckin' gag. He pulled it an' mumbled sumpthin' 'bout next I'd want my hands, an' I got stupid an' agreed with him. He decided that if he nailed BOTH my tits down, an' put big fuckin' washers under the heads so I couldn't pull free, he could let go my arms. At that point, I was tryin' like Hell to back pedal, but..." She shook her head. "He did the right one, then he pulled the left one back OUT to put a washer on it. Felt AWFUL -- I puked my guts out! Goin' back in wasn't no picnic, neither..." Matheson shook his head. This was the damnedest thing he'd ever heard, in twenty-plus years of detective work. "Jesus." "Funny, he let up an' wandered off for a while, an' I managed to get sorta used to it. When he came back, he wanted that blowjob -- an' I made DAMNED sure he got what he wanted, I can tell you! He didn't shoot in me, tho -- kinda squeezed hisself off -- instead he went 'round back an' shot some more alcohol in my pussy, and started humpin' away. Felt like he was pushin' around ground glass in there, but he tol' me if I didn't get him off, he'd find sumpthin' else to do... I got humpin' -- I jus' couldn't take nuthin' else!" She sipped from the cup. "I got him off, so he came 'round and shoved it in my mouth to get it goin' again, which took some work, but I managed it. So he goes around to do my ass an' he picks up some lube -- but the muthafuckah was usin' Ben-Gay! Then he put on another rubber an' pounds away -- I fuckin' lost it, totally; it was jus' too fuckin' much!" "Shit, I guess!" This recitation was frankly unbelievable -- except for the fact that Matheson was absolutely certain the woman wasn't lying! Tabitha nodded. "When I woke up, he'd put that fuckin' gag in again, an' he re-tied my hands. Then he started talkin' 'bout makin' improvements on me, an' next thing I know, here he come with the fuckin' needle again! He did my left nipple, then he started fuckin' with me, enjoyin' it while he scared me with the fuckin' needle. Finally, he does the right, an' I kinda figure, okay, what's next, fer chrissakes? An' he takes a coupla rubber bands an' loops 'em over the needles, then stretches 'em under the board an' over the nail tips! It was fuckin' gawdawful -- I couldn't hardly handle it! I wasn't even payin' any attention when he shut off my nose again... I remember him sayin' sumpthin' 'bout it bein' time to say goodbye, now, but it didn't even register, then... Woke up in an alley, buck naked, with my hands tied behind my back an' my tits still nailed to the plywood an' the goddamned rubber bands still on... Somebody had to call the paramedics, 'cause I was all cold an' couldn't move..." Nate was beyond words. Matheson shook his head. "Any idea who did this?" Tabitha shook her head. "The guy wore a mask in the basement, so I don' even know if it was the same guy that clocked me -- but I think it was. He was fuckin' perfect -- there was nothin' 'bout him that stuck out, no warning I was in the shit. As for who ordered it, I'm pretty sure of that, but there ain't never gonna be no evidence." "Yeah? Who?" "Rodday," Tabitha grunted. "Rodney Pinkham. Pimp tryin' to sew up downtown. This got his mark all over it -- 'sides, he came by to fuck with me the other day..." She ruminated a moment. "Maybe I AM lucky -- somebody else mighta jus' fuckin' killed me or cut off a tit or sumpthin'." "I'm going to get right on this," Matheson assured her. "I'll be getting back to you. Ummm, if you'd sign this form, I can get stuff from the cops..." Tabitha eyed him suspiciously. "This ain't gonna cost me, is it? I don' know how I'm gonna pay for THIS place..." "Mr. Wilson has already ordered this and agreed to pay. After hearing your tale, I'd have been tempted to look for this animal for free! Some things go beyond money..." He shook his head. "You catch him, I wanna hold his fuckin' balls in my hand again..." She squeezed her fist together. She took the paper, glanced at it briefly, and inked her signature to it. "What about Rodday? What if he ordered it?" "Fucker's worse -- I'd rather do HIM than the guy he hired to do the work! But of course, the fucker is untouchable... An' if I can get my shit to workin' again, I'll probly end up workin' for the fuckin' bastard." "Well, you never know," Matheson replied. "Any number of things could happen to Mr. Pinkham if we can tie the job to him. And some of them might not be strictly legal..." "You do sumpthin' 'bout Rodday, an' I might have to move in wit' ya -- be the easiest way to give ya free pussy fer life..." Tabitha grinned, and Matheson chuckled. "We'll see," he replied, and picked up Nate with his eyes. "I'll be in touch when I have something." Outside in the hall, he told Nate, "Your Mama's pretty fucking impressive. I'm going to pass this to Mr. Wilson, right away, and I have no doubt that there will be a team on this. This is absolute bullshit." "Not to be a fuckin' asshole, but why would he care?" Nate asked. "It's just the kind of shit goes down downtown..." Matheson's eyes twinkled. "Well, you're family, kind of, aren't you? Mr. Wilson doesn't take kindly to that kind of thing." "Huh. Really?" "Really." Matheson turned, then looked back. "I meant what I said about doing it for free, too. Some things just go too far." Nate shrugged. "Mama was right -- some folk would've just killed her." Matheson nodded. "True. In some ways that might have been better. Does your mother ever fuck for fun?" "Dunno. We don't talk about it." Nate shrugged. "After this, she probably won't. Even worse, she might not be able to in order to make a living, either. She's tough, but she could probably use a few sessions with a shrink -- which you can't afford... Rodday may have sentenced her to a slow death." Nate sighed. "That ain't really no different. I been waitin' for the drugs to kill her since I was knee high..." "And it hasn't happened. Know why? She's tough, that's why. But if she can't use her money-maker..." "Yeh." Nate got it. "You'd be in trouble, too -- but you aren't, the way things are right now." "Maybe, maybe not. Me an' Nora -- that's love, not money." Matheson grinned tightly. "Sometimes, you hit the lottery. You've got the right attitude. Don't ride it, and try to pay back where you can. But take what you have to -- Mr. Wilson can spare it. Gotta go -- I want those pictures. Call Nora -- she'll be worried." He strode off down the hall. Nate went back into his mother's hospital room. "What'd he say?" Tabitha wanted to know. Nate grinned. "Said you was tough as old boot leather. Talked big shit about puttin' a bunch of people on this. Said this thing might fuck with your head -- screw you up so you can't work." Tabitha's eyes narrowed. "I'll be a lot more cautious -- THAT's for sure!" Nate raised an eyebrow. "Too cautious?" Tabitha glared. If you were too cautious, you lost customers. And income. And... "Bastard might be right." "He ain't expecting no free pussy, either," Nate added, "although I bet he wouldn't turn it down..." "Well, THAT's out for a while, the Doc says, an' blowjobs don' pay too well... I kinda hope to fuck this thing in my tongue is a drawing card." Tabitha sighed. "Gotta try to get outta here tomorrow -- there goes the grocery money, for about six months..." Nate sighed. "I'm gonna call Nora and see what they got in the gift shop for them holes. Awright?" "Yeh. I wanna nap a bit, while the pain meds allow it. Git outta here." Nate kissed her cheek, anyway. The pair of them weren't any too demonstrative, but she WAS his mother... The hospital had all of those stupid rules about cell phones, despite the fact that the nurses were all using wireless laptops to record vitals in patient records (morons!) so Nate had to step outside to call. Nora's cell wasn't on, since the school was bitchy about such things, too, so he left a message, "Mama's fine, basically, but she was fucked with pretty bad. Some dude came in claiming your Daddy sent him an' Mama poured it all out. It like to made my hair all stand out straight -- you gotta hear it! Mebbe you can come by after school... Love ya!" Nate hated leaving messages -- seemed like he always sounded like a dork... He headed off to the gift shop. Matheson went downstairs and tried to get the ER team on duty; fortunately, the seven to three shift had seen the action. They didn't have the plywood or nails -- the police took them for evidence -- but someone had taken digital pictures and Matheson talked an orderly out of one. It was pretty spectacular; everyone in the ER was buzzing about it. There was a newspaper reporter snooping around, but he was having a hard time finding a way to portray the whole thing properly in print; since Tabitha was a hooker, she couldn't get too much sympathy from a policy point of view, and they couldn't print the pictures -- which MADE the story -- because little old ladies and various moral windbag types would be squicked. Next, Matheson went to talk to his police contact, who came up with the file pretty quickly. "This thing already in the dead file?" Matheson asked. "We gave it to a young sucker this morning, but he's already put it in the bottom of his in box -- aside from circulating the pics, which are pretty wild," the cop admitted, shrugging. "We know who ordered it -- Rodday Pinkham has been making hay with it with other holdout whores all day, and there's a tale out there that there is a video -- but the guy who actually did it is a pro. There have been a couple of other, sort of similar cases, here and in a couple of towns to the north and west, but no one has ever gotten a grip on the guy. Besides, the bitch is alive, and aside from some puncture wounds, okay. Viewed that way, she's damned lucky, and it's not worth a homicide-level investigation. Given what she does..." He shrugged again. "Well, the external stuff is superficial, but she might never want to fuck again," Matheson hazarded. The cop's eyebrows went up. "And that makes her different from my wife -- how?" The pair chuckled. Matheson went to the office and prepared his initial report, complete with Tabitha's audio description, a transcript, and the pictures, and got it to the day supervisor, who took one look at the pics, listened to thirty second's worth of audio, and kicked it up to Witherspoon. The whole mess was on Armand Wilson's desk by two p.m. "You will make every effort to confirm Pinkham's involvement," he directed. "And you will identify who he reports to and what his alliances are with the local organizations. I will want to know who I am dealing with when I discuss this with him. I am also interested in discovering the identity of his agent -- but Pinkham may provide me with that directly, given the proper incentives." Jason, hovering nearby, grinned his shark's grin while Witherspoon acknowledged his instructions; the words were innocuous, but Rodday was in for some time in the playroom, quite probably. "Oh, and if there IS a video -- and the evidence says there is -- I want it." "Yes, Sir." Armand hung up and turned to Jason. "Inform our medical insurer that both Tabitha Adams and her son are employees with full benefits, effective day before yesterday. The current hospitalization is to be covered." "Yes, Sir." Jason scribbled notes. "Jorge is to pick up my daughter after school and come here to collect me, whereupon we will depart for the hospital." "Yes, Sir." Jorge was picking up and delivering, anyway, until the busing issues involved in the change of address were ironed out with the school. "And find a work crew for Nate -- delivery -- he needs income." Dismissed, Jason left. ------- "Omigod!" Nora exclaimed. The picture of Nate's mom taken in the alley by the police was incredibly graphic. "It's awful!" "Hmmmm. Well, I've done similar things, but I don't think I've done that many to one person in a single scene," her father remarked blandly, "and MY play partners consent to their treatment. Still, it's impressive..." "Oh?" Nora eyed her father archly. "ALL of them? Mom, too?" Armand eyed his daughter blandly. "You know the answer to that. Your mother's noises are just that -- noises. She gives lip service to what she's been told is proper behavior, but her REAL tastes reveal themselves regularly." "You trained her to do that!" Nora objected. "Well, yes," Armand agreed, "but the latency, the capacity, was there from the first day that I confronted her in High School. I but released the slave in her -- I didn't create it." Nora eyed her father sidelong. "I won't argue. Do you have any idea how you're going to handle things now that you have what you want?" Armand actually looked bothered, for the first time in their short acquaintance. "Er, no, actually. There are a great number of questions. I'm going to have to proceed slowly. Your mother may never become the dilettante that I am -- but I would like to see her experience broadened. I don't foresee us being re-married, but I can't decide whether I should resume attracting toys... I'm going to resume using her, perhaps more often -- but what that means as far as her status in the household isn't clear, yet..." "What is MY status, Daddy?" "That is much clearer, Daughter. You are a free woman, perhaps the only one in My household. Young Bianca is also free, but she remains her mother's child..." "You need to end this thing of her serving the Wench, Daddy. It's not right." "Perhaps. But they're friends, now, anyway. It won't stop Bianca from seeking the Wench out as a friend." Nora shrugged. "What about Jason and her mother?" Armand chuckled. "However much it horrifies Jason when he thinks about it, the pair are becoming quite domestic. And Jason is acting in loco parentis where Bianca is concerned, quite honorably. I will be watching to ensure that doesn't change, but frankly, I don't expect it to..." "What about the mistreatment?" Nora asked. "Is that what it is?" Armand countered. "I'm not certain that either of them would share your opinion, Daughter." Nora held her peace. Daddy might be right. At noon, Nora had checked her voicemail to find Nate's invitation, and then at two-fifteen, before she got out of class, she'd gotten another from Daddy, outlining their itinerary. Well, it worked for her... Now, they were pulling up before the hospital. "Why are you here, Daddy? I know I asked you to look into this, but..." "I'm uncertain that I can explain it, Daughter. There is something in this affair that I find... repellent... even though I have done certain similar things before. The fact that you and Nate are dating make this almost a family matter, and instinct tells me I'm involved, somewhere..." ------- Nate was thrilled to see Nora, but less so to see her father -- the guy was just scary! Still, there he was... "Mama, this is Nora, and this is her Daddy..." Tabitha sized up the girl with a glance, but her father demanded more attention. "You be Armand Wilson? Howcum you're here?" she asked suspiciously. "Nora suggested that I have your little incident investigated. I find it pretty amazing, in some ways." Armand replied. He tossed a packet on the bed. "You were a mess when you came in this morning." Tabitha opened the packet. Nate, looking over her shoulder, gasped. "Jeezus!" Tabitha looked at the pictures and looked up. "Wasn't no fun, but I'm alive..." "Yes," Armand agreed. "That's one of the unique things about it. It's compelling, but the physical damage isn't anything you wouldn't have survived. The man that did this was an expert." Tabitha eyed Armand sidelong. "Mebbe I'm talkin' outta turn, but I hear you're an expert, too..." Armand chuckled. Feisty bitch, this Tabitha Adams! "True. Although I don't think I've ever applied so many techniques in the same scene. I think that what bothers me about this is that most, if not all, of my victims enter my clutches of their own free will -- and they suffer whatever indignities I dish out as the result of a clear choice. While you perhaps chose to resist this pimp, I don't think you saw this coming -- and I find it less than proper that he should send another to do something that he wouldn't do himself." "Well, he's gonna get away with it... Guess I shoulda checked wit' YOU first, before tellin' him I was under your protection." Armand got positively predatory. "You told him that?" Tabitha gulped. This bastard was MEAN! "Yeh. Not by name, but I tol' him I was covered, heavy." "Then it's personal. You ARE under my protection, now. The fact that he felt free to ignore me leaves me no choice but to backdate said protection to the moment you uttered the statement. And THAT means that Mr. Pinkham and I are going to have what will be for him a very uncomfortable interview..." Lightning appeared to flash in Armand's dark eyes. "You'll owe me for this, one way or another, but I don't allow such challenges to slip past." He pondered a moment. "You realize that Rodday is gambling that you'll have been totally vanquished by his bullying and that you'll leave the hospital a vocal convert. He's also no doubt counting upon the fact that he has damaged your ability to earn income, making it necessary for you to crawl begging to him for support, which he will magnanimously supply. That's how I'd do it." Tabitha nodded. "There are possible psychological issues inherent in such abuse. Do you think you're going to be able to resume sexual activity when you're healed?" Tabitha sucked her teeth, thinking. "Yeh, I think so. I'm gonna be a lot more cautious 'bout customers, though." "From the transcripts of your interview today with my operative, the attacker gave you no hint as to his intentions, though, did he? Is it fair to say that you're going to be spooked?" Shit, this fucker was smart! "Yeh, mebbe." "That's an issue." Armand paused. "You will stay here the rest of the week, and heal. I'll have my staff gynecologist follow your case. You'll see him tomorrow morning at the latest." "Cain't. No money fer this place." "You'll do as I say, because I'm paying for it. Both you and your son are employees of Wilson Enterprises, effective yesterday -- with full health benefits. In your case, what I'm going to do with you is open to question -- but you're a valuable property, in your way. In yours," he turned to regard Nate, "you're to start working on a distribution crew, part time. My man Jason will contact you with particulars. This has nothing to do with your mother -- I'm offering you an honest method of supporting the financial aspects of your relationship with my daughter. Understood?" "Yessir." "Excellent. I want you to put on some weight," he told Tabitha. "Your recreational drug use hasn't improved your ability to earn a living at your chosen profession, but it hasn't killed you either. That tells me you're iron-willed, and not a true addict. I want you to leave the hospital in visibly better shape than you were in on, say, Saturday night; it will help undermine Pinkham. In the meantime, I will take whatever other actions I deem necessary to render Rodday ineffectual, depending upon what his alliances and support structure looks like. I'm disinclined to go looking for this professional, at this point in time -- he was following instructions, even if he enjoyed them. I'm sure you understand." "Well, I'd like to kick him in the balls, but I'm alive." "At some point, maybe we'll turn the tables on him -- but not now. He's good; therefore, he'll be wary, especially once he discovers that his employer has crossed someone and is paying for it. It'll be easier to find him when he's lowered his guard." He nodded at Tabitha's bandaged breasts. "What he did to you was visually spectacular, and very painful, but in BDSM they call breasts 'fun bags', because they take a lot of punishment and provide a lot of pain without permanent damage. At some point, perhaps we'll look into plastic surgery for the scars..." He returned his attention to Nate. "You'll bring Nora home?" "Yessir." "Good. I'll make my departure, then. Get well, Tabitha. Maybe when you get out I'll put YOU in charge of prostitution in this town..." Armand swept out. Tabitha's eyes swept to Nora. "Your old man's a fuckin' trip!" Nora shook her head. "He certainly is. I didn't have any real idea until last week. He's always been a force of nature at my house, even though I'd never dealt with him directly. I don't think this guy Rodday is going to be very happy when he looks back on this..." Tabitha grunted. She wasn't placing any bets, either way. "C'mere, girl." Nora did so. "Turn around." Nora did this, too, but favored Nate with a frown. "Big ass on her." "I LIKE ass!" Nate grated. Tabitha turned her attention back to Nora. "What the fuck you want wit' my boy? He ain't no Ken doll... Wit' your old man you can get jus' 'bout anything, I figger..." Nora stood there a moment, fuming, then regarded Nate's mother levelly. "I saw potential in him. Daddy sees potential in YOU! I think that probably makes me right..." She paused. "Daddy didn't actively enter my sex life until I had one -- and that's been with Nate. And, basically, aside from doing what a lot of daddies do -- telling him he'd better do right by me, or else -- he's stayed out of things." "Why Nate? What would a rich bitch like you want a bruthuh fo'? 'Cept maybe as a toy..." Nora got visibly angry. "I'm not a rich bitch! Or, at least, I didn't THINK I was. Prior to Nate, I got NO attention from boys -- except maybe ridicule for my ass! Okay, I had a fantasy -- but we got past that on our first date! Nate and I... click. A lot of people seem to have this thing about our skin color, one way or another. Fuck 'em! Nate's MINE!" She blushed. "And I'm his..." Tabitha shifted her regard to her son. "You paddled that ass yet?" "Huh? No! Well, a little, in play." Nate looked furtive. "Better think 'bout doin' it serious. You gonna be pussy-whipped; you got no shot at all. Better have a fall-back plan fer holdin' SOME territory!" Tabitha grinned, turning back to Nora. "Okay, you'll do -- not that I can do a fuckin' thing 'bout it anyway. 'Sides, boy's settlin' down, visibly. Probly good pussy..." Nora regarded the black woman archly. "Well, I'm not complaining, either." Nate circled behind Nora and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back to lean against him. Now that the possibility of a catfight seemed to have disappeared, he could afford to side with one of them. Apropos of nothing, he changed the subject, "I couldn't find anything for your, uh, piercings, Mama." "Piercings?" Nora blinked. Tabitha picked up a photograph and pointed at her skewered nipples. "Them. I still got the needles in 'em. I figger I might as well keep the fuckin' holes..." "Oh. Okay, I'll help. I know a couple of places in the mall. Gold is best. How big?" Tabitha thought about it while concealing her approval of the way the girl took the task on as her own. "Lemme see yer pinky." Nora displayed her hand, close up. "Yeh, 'bout that thick. Mebbe a li'l bigger, full up." Girl had narrow fingers. Wasn't big anywhere, 'cept the ass... Nice round tits... Tabitha chuckled to herself; them things probly had Nate's fingerprints all over 'em! Meanwhile, Nora collected the photograph. "I think I can scale from this -- although I probably can't be taking this out at the mall to look at..." "Wanna see 'em? Don' worry, the boy has." Tabitha looked mildly embarrassed. "Too many times." "I've seen enough," Nora replied. "Maybe when we fit them. What do you want? Studs? Rings?" "Studs, to start." Tabitha eyed the girl, putting forth another test. "You can mount them." "Okay." Test passed. Nora didn't even flinch. " 'Tween the size o' them needles, an' the fact they was hauled on fer a while, the fuckin' holes are probly pretty fuckin' big." Nora nodded, still examining the photo. "Think they tore at all?" "Nah. There was plenty there. They was just hauled on enough to keep it hurtin'." Nate watched and listened to the dispassionate discussion in some wonder. You'd think they were talking about shopping for chicken breasts, or something! Nate's nipples hurt to look at the pictures, and he didn't HAVE any, to speak of. And his pecker had shrunk up to a little tiny thing... Stick Williams wandered through the door at that point, "Hey." "Stick." Tabitha acknowledged Nate's friend. "Thought I'd come by. How you doin'?" "I'll live. Nice a' ya." Nate eyed his friend. "How'd you get here?" "Mary brought me. She don't know your Mama, so she didn't want to come up and stick her nose in shit." Nate frowned. The initial question hadn't been important, but something about the answer was fucked up... "Mary don't own no car, does she?" Stick caught out, backpedaled. "Okay, Ted brought me. He's downstairs with Mary." "Huh! Man, I can't figure out why you're fooling around with that little fuck! Mary's understandable, I guess -- different strokes -- but Teddy? What're you doin', fuckin' him?" Stick's face closed down. Nora looked away. And a light came on in Nate's head. Stick was well and truly fucked. It seemed like there was only one possible way to stave off the inevitable. "I don't hafta take that kinda shit, Nate. Get better, Miz Adams. I'm outta here..." Stick turned and strode out. Nate stood there, soaking up the shock. Stick was queer? What the fuck? And another thing... "You KNEW!" he accused Nora. "Well, I know a helluva lot more that you THINK you know!" Nora replied hotly. "Mary swore me to secrecy! It's... a lot more complex than it looks..." "Boy!" Tabitha yelled. "Settle the fuck down!" "I find out my best friend's queer and my girlfriend knows it, and I'm supposed to settle down?" Nate ranted. "Jeezus shit!" "You don' fuckin' know it all, Boy! If he's your frien' you'll lissen ta how it is!" "Awright." He turned on Nora, fuming, "Well?" Nora shrugged. "Things are a lot closer to the way they've been telling it than you're probably guessing," Nora apologized. "But Mary swore me to secrecy because Stick and Teddy stand to take just the kind of shit you're dishing out! Fact is, they've got a three-way thing going -- but it's REALLY three-way, rather than Mary doing it all..." "So who's fuckin' who?" Nate sneered. "Well, Stick is fucking Mary, and Teddy is fucking Mary..." "Anybody fuckin' Stick?" Nate cut to the chase. "I don't think so. Stick just isn't that particular who is sucking him off, as long as they're good at it..." "Well, that's a LITTLE better," Nate allowed. "Stick fuckin' Teddy?" "Yeah, I'm pretty sure." "Stick suckin' cocks?" "I don't know," Nora hedged, "Maybe." "Jeezus Christ..." "Oh, shut up, Boy!" Tabitha ranted. "If you was in the joint, you'd be somebody's fuckin' bitch inside a week! Eatin' pussy ain't made me a lezzie, an' suckin' an occasional cock don' make Stick queer! Ever hear o' 'bisexual'?" "Well, yeh." "So? How much pussy was Stick gettin' before this Mary?" "Same's me -- zip." "An' you wouldn'ta accepted a blowjob from queer-bait?" Nate looked EXTREMELY uncomfortable. "I mighta..." The black woman eyed Nora. "What's this kid look like?" Nora shrugged. "Small. Kind of girlish, actually. Wavy brown hair. He was getting typecast." "So. You ain't gettin' shit. Girly-boy blows you -- an' it's good. Girly-boy ups some ass -- an' it's good. Everythin's quiet -- ain't public, you ain't swappin' spit or anythin' -- he's jus' handlin' your needs. You gonna do ABSOLUTELY nuthin' in return? How long's THAT gonna last?" "That's all well and good," Nate complained, "but what about Mary? Stick didn't hafta do that shit -- he had a bitch!" "Well, it didn't start out that way," Nora interjected. "Mary blackmailed them both into having sex with her..." "What?" Nora sighed. "Mary says it all started at the Prom. There was a glory hole in the Men's Room..." Tabitha chuckled. "and Stick was a little drunk. Teddy blew him, but I guess the whole thing was kind of anonymous..." "You don' see who's on the other side of a glory hole, generally," Tabitha supplied. "It's just a hole in the wall you stick your dick through. You drop a load, the cocksucker gets it -- everybody's happy, an' there's no messy talk an' shit." "Apparently, Teddy was really good," Nora continued. He got out of the Men's Room without Stick figuring out who he was, but he was standing there with Mary when Stick came out and pumped her for info on who had come by recently. Mary put two and two together and got six..." She glanced at Nate. "She had Teddy by the balls at that point, but he's a big chicken about going to her house. You picking me up made Stick appetizing, and having Stick along would allay Teddy's fears enough for Mary to get at least one, and maybe two, dicks... You see how close this is to what you've been told?" "Thus far," Nate grumped. Nora sighed. "When they got to Mary's place, Mary got Teddy stone drunk and started playing bisexual fuck flicks. She outed Teddy to Stick, but only after she let Stick know that she had a gun to HIS head, too -- basically, that if Teddy got outed, he would, too. Then she made them a deal: they could try man-sex at her place, in perfect privacy -- but they had to both fuck her, too." "I don't get it," Nate complained. "Is Fat Mary that big a slut?" Nora shrugged. "Well, there is no question that she likes sex, but you put your finger on the problem: Mary is FAT -- there isn't a line of boys waiting to date her. In fact, blatant advertising made her only a little more successful than ME." She shrugged. "Mary wanted a boyfriend; if she could get either one of them to come to the well a few times without feeling serious pressure over it, chances were that she'd at least get SOMETHING." "Okay, so, there was a cock sucking tournament? Teddy IS queer, right?" Nora shook her head. "Teddy THOUGHT he was queer -- and he was being type cast. Mary says he's a pretty good fuck, actually. So is Stick -- but totally different. But Teddy likes guys, too." "An' Stick?" "Stick has his choice of five holes, apparently. Would YOU screw that up, if they all worked well?" "Jeez, I dunno!" "Mary figures Stick could walk away -- he would MUCH rather receive than to give. Apparently, she browbeat him into blowing Teddy because turnabouts IS fair play... Nobody expects Stick to EVER be on bottom, though. Teddy, well, he's getting a lot of attention on both sides, and he likes it that way." Tabitha chuckled, "So I'm guessin' you don' ever have ta worry 'bout Stick snugglin' up to ya in the middle of the night an' offering ta take the edge off... Basically, you keep your nose outta their business, an' things ain't changed." "Well, mebbe. Still, Stick knows his shit's in the wind..." "An' he DON'T know you ain't gonna shit on him!" his mother interjected. "You ain't are ya?" Nate sighed heavily. "Nah. I guess not." "Then you better get to him 'fore he gets too bent outta shape..." Nate stood there wondering how he was going to accomplish that when Nora came to the rescue: "He's with Mary, right?" She whipped out her cell phone... ------- Stick was a wreck. He was sitting in Teddy's car in the parking lot with Teddy and Mary, freaking out. "Nate made the whole thing! It was fucking awful! He goes, like, 'What're you doin', fuckin' him?' An' I fuckin' froze up!" He stopped dead, remembering, then, "Hey! How the fuck does NORA know?" He turned an accusing glance on Mary. "Well, she didn't talk," Mary blustered. "Who the fuck ELSE knows?" Stick demanded. "Besides Nate?" Mary's phone rang, allowing her to back out of THAT one. "Hullo?" "Mary, are you with Stick?" Nora asked. "Yeah." "How is he?" "Bad." "Give him the phone." Mary did so, and Nora handed hers to Nate, giving him that look that women have used to enforce good behavior in their significant others since sometime before the dawn of recorded history. Nate took the thing gingerly, "Stick?" "Yeh." "Awright, it's cool, Man. Nora explained shit to me." "What did she tell ya?" "Uh, can we do this, like, face to face?" "Yeh. I'm in the parkin' lot." "Bring 'em up, then." "What about your Mama?" "She knows. She slapped me upside the head a coupla times." Nate flicked his eyes at his mother. Tabitha chuckled and interjected, "I wanna see this Mary." Nate nodded. "Mama wants to see Mary." "Teddy, too," Tabitha added. "Teddy, too." "Awright." He hung up. "Nate wants ta see us. All of us." Teddy looked fearful. "What does he know?" "I dunno," Stick replied. "Whatever it was, Nora told him." Again the eyes swiveled to Mary -- this time, two pair. "She's my best friend!" Mary wailed. "An' what does she know?" Mary hung her head. "Just about everything." "Fuck. Le's go." Stick opened the door. "What's Nate gonna do?" Teddy worried querulously. "I guess we're gonna find out." Stick made sure the other two got moving. It took a good ten minutes for an extremely diffident trio to make an appearance at the door of Tabitha's hospital room. "Git in here, you three!" she ordered. The three of them sidled in. Tabitha got her first look at Mary Nally. Yep, she was fat, all right -- but then Stick was damned skinny. THAT piece kinda made sense... She shifted her attention to Teddy Frick. "C'mere, boy." The look on his face said that Teddy wouldn't be surprised if the bedridden black woman offered to beat the shit out of him. Tabitha chuckled. "High-strung, ain't ya? I cain't throw rocks, Boy. You know what I do fer a livin'?" "Uh, no..." Teddy managed. "I'm a fuckin' hooker, Boy. Now c'mere." Teddy approached gingerly. Tabitha continued, "I'm hearin' you like to play both sides of the fence. That right?" "Yes, Ma'am." "Which you like better? Dick or pussy?" "Uhhhhh..." " 'Sokay, Boy. Either way." "It's... not that. I... can't decide." Tabitha pondered a moment. "You givin' up ass to Stick?" Teddy looked around, trying to find something resembling support -- and he got it. Mary came off the wall, and Stick nodded gravely. "Yeah." Tabitha eyed Stick. "Stick, you done Mary's ass?" Stick flicked a glance at Mary. "Yeh." "Which 'un's better?" "They're... different." Tabitha nodded. "Suckin' cock?" "Uhhh... Teddy. Mary's learnin', though." Tabitha decided it was time to stick in a ringer, "Stick givin' you ass, Boy?" Teddy's blink said the concept was foreign to him. "No..." "Stick suckin' cock?" Teddy's eyes made the rounds, but Stick shrugged. "A couple of times. Mary's better, though." Nate thought that this was fucking awful, but Mama seemed to think it was significant, from her expression... Tabitha again shifted the interrogation, this time to Mary. "Why ain't YOU picked one?" Mary shrugged. "They're different." "How?" "Lots of ways. There's the obvious," Mary grinned suddenly, "which isn't." "Meanin'?" "Their, uh, members. Stick's is pretty much what you'd think it was, from looking at him. Teddy's is... a surprise." "Baby, I know what a cock is. Anybody else in the dark?" Tabitha glanced around, grinning. "Spit it out." "Okay." Mary blushed. "Stick's is long and thin. Teddy's is shorter, but..." She held up her hand in a 'C' shape to demonstrate Teddy's surprising circumference. "Huh!" Tabitha glanced at Teddy, who was blushing furiously. "That IS different. I'm guessin' they scratch different spots?" "Uh huh." "That ain't it, though?" "No. Teddy needs mothering, and I enjoy that -- usually. But sometimes I don't want to..." Tabitha's eyes settled on Stick as she asked, "An' Stick don't take much motherin' does he? I imagine he runs things..." "Uh huh." "So, Stick, how is eatin' pussy?" "Not bad." Stick grinned. "I like the results." "And suckin' dick?" She'd caught him short. He glanced apologetically at Teddy, and replied, "It ain't my favorite thing." "So why d'ya do it?" "Mary convinced me that jus' pokin' Ted's holes an' not givin' him any jollies wasn't right." "Hand job?" Stick rolled his eyes. "Dude's GOT hands. I got hands, too -- it ain't the same." Tabitha turned her eyes on her son. "You gettin' this? Lemme recap. This ain't a couple 'a dudes sharin' a woman -- it's a three-way. It's fairly stable, 'cause each of 'em 's got needs, and the other two are handlin' 'em. Stick is top cock; he's got two bitches -- jus' one of 'em's a bit more female than the other." Teddy took the hit, blushing. "Lotsa times, gay sex is a thing where they talk 'bout 'tops' and 'bottoms'. Tops, usually, are inta runnin' shit an' gettin' their dicks wet -- damned few of 'em are gonna up any ass, 'cept maybe once in a blue moon outa a sense of fair play. Same thing with cocksuckin'." Nate was all ears. "So, we got a thing, here -- a peckin' order. Stick runs shit, mostly by lettin' things happen, but he pushes here an' there. Mary's in the middle. She's gettin' laid regular, an' it ain't the same ol' dick. She keeps Teddy mothered, but Stick gives her regular breaks where she can relax an' go with the flow. An' Teddy's a bottom. He's gettin' motherin' and sex from Mary, an' gettin' his submission in takin' loads from Stick, who's also takin' care of him 'round guys." She scanned the trio. "Did I miss anything?" "No," Mary responded, "That's how I make it out." "So, is Stick a cocksucker? Only with Teddy. Is it a problem fo' YOU?" she asked Nate rhetorically, "No." "Okay, I got it," Nate grumbled. "Howcum SHE didn't tell me?" He glared at Nora. "Girl talk don't extend to guys, usually, ya dumb fuck. You wanna hear 'bout the fit of her Kotex?" Tabitha chuckled. " 'Specially if she was sworn to secrecy an' she knew you'd shit a brick... What the fuck you want?" "I just wanted to make an official complaint," Nate replied. He turned to Stick. "This shit is gonna get out, Man. I'm good with it, now, but it... reflects..." "Not THAT much," Nora pointed out. "You're not hanging with the same bunch, now, either of you..." Nate blinked. True enough. "Well, you gotta find a way to break it to Draper before he figgers it out himself, Man." "Yeh," Stick agreed. "Might need help." "Okay." "Awright, Sex Ed is over for today. Ya'll get the fuck outta here, so I can get some sleep!" Tabitha groused -- but she grinned to remove the sting. ------- Chapter 25: Some Girls Set Up to go Dear Hunting The Darla Jean Nevins that showed up at school on Monday was not the same one who had left the previous Friday, and a number of people noticed. Oh, the clothing was the same -- but the presentation was different. Her shirt was still shapeless, but it was open another button, for instance. Her slacks rode lower -- or did they? Maybe it was all attitude... Darla Jean's habitual impenetrable reserve wasn't there; her camouflage had apparently either been shut off or otherwise wasn't working. She actually engaged people in conversation, on a number of occasions, which increased her visibility quite a bit. And there was something else, something not immediately definable. Peggy Ellis remarked on it first, while stooping to adjust the buckle on her shoe. Peggy wore heels to help define her legs, which she also tended to display, because they were decent for her rather rotund shape. Her round breasts tended to be on display, too, which she considered to be sensible advertising, given her generally hefty build. "Okay, Darla Jean, what's up with you? That's the third time in ten minutes I've caught you openly scoping a boy's buns..." "I, ummmm, learned a new appreciation for them," Darla Jean replied. Peggy eyed her -- well, maybe friend was too strong a word. More than an acquaintance, certainly... "Does that mean what I think it means?" Peggy was no stranger to sex, although the list wasn't lengthy. Her most recent capture had been August Lippmann, the exchange student, after the prom -- but she'd been in too much of a hurry, trying to nail him down, and he'd run, after... "Yeah, probably," Darla Jean agreed, staring across the quad at the jocks. The big problem with having sex was that things got even worse, afterward, she mused. Before you've done it, you paint all kinds of romantic images, and your glands get mixed up with it and things are unbearable. But after you've done it the first time, the romance drops away, replaced by the pure physical itch to have all that wonderful, addictive pleasure again... Peggy interrupted her musings with, "You had sex? With who? How was it?" "Yeah, I did. I'd rather not say with who, because you'd probably laugh -- but he was surprisingly good." "Are you sore? I usually am, after..." Darla Jean shrugged. "I was, a bit, yesterday -- but it was a good sore. Like an itch -- I want to scratch it..." Her eyes hadn't shifted from the jocks. "Yeah." Peggy's tone reflected shared experience -- and shared hunger. "Well, you keep ogling like that, and you'll probably attract attention." "Good," Darla Jean replied. "Hiding took me too long." "Well, if you start acting like you're aware of sex, they'll start sniffing around. If you don't do the big, 'I'm on display, don't you want to be seen with me?' thing, it'll happen even quicker -- but you might get a rep, if you're not careful," Peggy advised. Darla Jean laughed. "Well, I'm out of the drone shop -- but I don't think I want to be a queen, yet..." "Ewwwww, you and bugs..." The bell rang, and the pair moved off to class. ------- Randall found his status just as hard to hide, among males; among females, he was generally beneath notice, so it would take longer to penetrate. Those few in the Brain Trust who weren't already in on the particulars, (those that were tended to sit around within earshot and grin conspiratorially, but offer very little beyond bare confirmation of Randall's claims), detected Randall's cocky attitude quickly and pumped him, eliciting a more and more colorful description of the incident that Randall nonetheless attempted to maintain the anonymity of his partner throughout. Most present could put two and two together, however, and only a convention of politeness kept Darla Jean's name from being mentioned directly. Chivalry was a concept familiar to the Brain Trust, who practiced it religiously, hoping to attract the grateful regard of a female -- and not realizing that self-effacement in someone only barely visible in the first place was at odds with their goals. The old adage that 'nice guys finish last' applies to chivalrous acts with a vengeance. Nonetheless, Monday morning found Randall feeling extremely cocky; if he managed to attract any feminine attention before the whole thing wore off and became but a fond memory, the burst of self-confidence might stand him in good stead. The chances of that happening were slim, however; if girls his age were looking for 'intelligence' there would be a lot more credit in his account than the current undefined coin of 'coolness' allotted him, despite the fact that 'coolness' had no defined reference standard or exchange rate. The good news? The burst of self-confidence added credit to his 'coolness' account, maybe even bringing him to the minimum balance... Sexual relationships tended to be a seller's market, and market pressures tended to drive the desperate of both sexes together. Peggy, alerted to the fact that there was a fresh convert out there, reversed the mental calisthenics of the Brain Trust, discovering Randall from Darla Jean's hints and his altered demeanor. Being the first woman on the ground with the information might net her the brass ring, this time; Peggy's criteria weren't the same as those of her more display-oriented colleagues. Okay, Randall was hard to talk to, and he wasn't a jock, but the girl who finally deigned to land him would make out like a bandit, Peggy figured. The fact that the likes of Darla Jean had found Randall to be sexually adequate added to his value to Peggy, raising him above the level of the other leavings while maintaining an aura of attainability -- in other words, Randall suddenly made the 'sweet spot' of Peggy's shopping list, the area where something was both attainable and worth having. Since that raised her current number of candidates all the way to one, she lost no time bringing her weapons to bear. "Hi, Randall!" "Hi." Randall watched, bemused as Peggy put a hand on the lockers for support and bent forward while she fiddled with the back strap of her heels, dropping the deep cleavage between her 36DDs into alignment before his startled eyeballs. Peggy was chunky -- florid -- even porky, perhaps, but she got a pair of big, round, pink-nippled breasts out of the deal, and she was well aware of their value as a weapon. Peggy operated somewhat below Randall's sweet spot, viewed objectively, but that assumed that he had to work at communication. Having her come to him skewed things somewhat. So when she asked, "Hey, I'm having trouble in Chemistry. Do you think you could tutor me?" the answer was obvious. "Chemistry?" "Yeah. You've had Chem, right?" "Yeah, AP Chem." "So, can you help me with molar volumes? I can't figure out where they're coming from." Peggy was still working at her shoe, looking up at Randall. Randall, on the other hand, was trying to use the same pair of eyes to engage hers while simultaneously mapping the valley between her breasts. "Uh, yeah, sure. When?" "Um, well, timing's an issue. I've got homework due tomorrow and a quiz later this week. Tonight?" Timing WAS an issue; if she was going to set her hooks without competition, the sooner, the better... Peggy contrived to wriggle her shoulders a bit, and Randall lost the ability to support a pretense that he wasn't watching her breasts. 'Thank God for tits!' she thought. Randall got control of his eyes, finding Peggy's to be somewhat cynically amused. "Uh, okay. Where?" "My house?" "Sure." Peggy scratched her address and phone number on a sheet of paper and ripped it out of her steno pad. "Here ya go. Say, six?" Randall shrugged. "Okay." "See you then." Peggy moved off. "What was that all about?" Randall mumbled to himself. "First fruits of your new rep as a stud, I'd guess," Jimmy Hightower chuckled beside him. "Chemistry? I dunno." "Body chemistry, Man. Peggy and Darla talk. She's probably trying to edge out the competition." "Jeez, I dunno..." 'Do I even want to go there?' Randall wondered. Toby Brillsteen leaned in, "A missed piece of ass is irreplacable, Man. You can't bank 'em for another day. If you try, it only means that you get one when you coulda got two..." "Peggy's is gonna be a bit more work to get to than, uh, your last partner's..." Jimmy remembered that Toby didn't know who Randall had laid in mid-sentence. "You been getting some?" Toby asked, amazed. "I got lucky the other night," Randall confirmed. "Really? Can I ask who? Wasn't Peggy, I'm betting..." "No, you can't ask, and no, it wasn't Peggy." Randall replied shortly. Some dudes just had no manners. "Musta been Mrs. Hufnagel..." "Jeezus Christ!" Randall exploded. Beatrice Hufnagel, the English Lit teacher, was sixty, fat, and notoriously prudish. "Not even in a nightmare!" Jimmy started laughing. "I could have done without THAT image!" "So, who was it?" Toby prodded. "A gentleman doesn't tell. But it was a girl, not a -- Jeez, I don't even know what species Hufnagel is!" Randall ranted, his dignity wounded. "Yeah, sure... Hmmmmm, Fat Mary's taken... If it wasn't Fat Mary, I'd be complaining about brothers hunting white girls, but..." "What about Teddy?" Jimmy interjected. "Stick probably ties him up and makes him watch, or something," Toby guessed. Randall and Jimmy shared a startled glance; THAT image opened up new vistas... "Nah," Jimmy replied. "I've spent time with Teddy, and seen the change. He's getting laid all right. That means Mary's keeping two dicks wet, which makes her all right in my book..." Toby waved dismissively. "Porky Peggy's better than that shit." "You're talking from experience, then?" Randall prodded. "Well, no, but I hear it's okay," Toby backpedaled. Randall merely grunted. Toby was all talk... ------- Raoul Hernandez sat in his hotel room with his new boss, Mr. Jacobson. "So, when do I go in to the office?" Jacobson scratched his head. "Well, I want to get a little added value out of you first," he drawled. "Que?" Raoul blinked. "What? I don't understand..." Jacobson grinned. "Everybody knows everybody in this town, but you're a fresh face. That's why I've kept you away from the office -- if you came in, you'd be identified with Wilson Enterprises. Before that happens, I want you to do a couple of things, things that will come out of left field where our competitors are concerned, because they won't be looking for you. Get me?" "Yeah." Jacobson opened his briefcase and extracted some blueprints. "This is the layout of the local Waverley Oaks office. We got a tip that there is a way to mess up their distribution schedule by replacing a file on this system." He pointed to an office workstation. "We've got a copy of the data, and I've altered it just enough to fuck 'em up. Are you any good with computers?" "Well, I've used one..." "Can you do something simple like find a file on a hard disk and replace it with one from this floppy?" "Si. Yes." Raoul paused. He wasn't THAT good... "I might want to practice..." "We'll rent a system in the business center downstairs and practice." 'Perfect', Jacobson thought. 'This should fly pretty well.' "Getting in and out is the hard part," he added. "We'll go over that, now." The two started examining access methods and guard patrol schedules. Raoul's ego swelled; always before, he'd had to follow someone else's direction -- but this would be solo! He would PROVE his worth! ------- Dwayne Hanson glanced up for the fourth time at the top of the one set of fold out bleachers open in the gym during basketball practice. "Hey, how come Darla Jean's up there?" "Dunno," Ted Phipps drawled, "Lookin' for oxygen, maybe?" Everybody in earshot chuckled. "I'm serious, Man. If I didn't know better, I'd swear she was watching the game..." Everybody knew that Darla Jean didn't think much of jocks; something about 'inflated egos' and 'low IQ'. "Well, you never know," Rob Graham quipped. "Maybe the ice has melted." It had happened before, and they'd all seen it. Sometimes it was like flicking a switch; a heretofore asexual girl suddenly started noticing boys. And sometimes, they went totally ga-ga... "Think she'd be any good?" Dwayne wondered aloud. Ted almost dropped the ball. "Think about the game, Man, not pussy!" He started trying to worm his way around a guard. Dwayne got into it for a bit, but the thing was riding him. When the ball went out of play, he glanced up at the stands -- and met Darla Jean's eyes. Both looked away, quickly. "Hel-looo..." Rob chuckled. "What the fuck?" "Just thinkin'," Dwayne replied. "If Darla Jean's up and running, maybe I'll give her a test drive..." Dwayne wasn't exactly a stranger to sex; his athletic prowess had netted him a couple of run-ins with the hopeless, and there'd been that memorable bout with a cheerleader who would remain nameless because she had a steady, but whose excess consumption of drugs and alcohol at the victory party had gotten her poked by just about everyone on the team. Dwayne wasn't really sure why he wasn't doing better, but there it was -- basically, his couple of conquests weren't chicks he wanted to be seen in public with. Darla Jean might be a step up... "Well, you could do that, I guess," Rob hazarded. "She isn't much to look at, and she's gonna be a librarian when she grows up, but it IS pussy." Rob could afford to be disparaging; he had been Prom King, and it was with good reason. The captain of the football team had HIS pick of the 'A' list girls. Current rumor said Mary Eikenberry wasn't just being publicly mushy with him, she was oiling his dick regularly, too. And red- headed Mary was USDA Grade A shit, too... "Hey, I'd be doing her a favor..." "Yeah, right," Ted snickered. "Maybe you better call for backup..." Practice went on, and Dwayne checked on Darla Jean regularly. And more and more regularly, her eyes were there, looking back... Darla Jean was hunting, more or less cold-bloodedly. Randall had been VERY good -- but she needed to know if he represented the standard or not. Tales she got before the incident said he might be better than average, but who knew? Basketball practice seemed like a good place to get a look at a few boys... There were some nice buns down there on the floor, and a bit of banter once she was noticed, but she couldn't really hear it. She shifted back and forth between her homework and scoping buns, wondering if she was attracting any attention. Relatively quickly, it became apparent that she had Dwayne's. Ted was flashing an occasional glance her way, but she didn't care for his supercilious expression. Dwayne's eyes kept coming back, though, and Darla Jean encouraged him by looking back, which just increased the incidence. Darla Jean basked in the pleasure that this brought her, this unaccustomed feeling of having a fish actually nibble at her lures. Maybe this stuff wasn't so hard, after all... She WAS amazed at how obvious it appeared that you had to be to get anything across... Well, tonight wasn't good timing, no matter how nice it might feel. Darla Jean collected her things and left as the boys hit the showers. She decided to let Dwayne stew a bit and see if HE came to HER; things still didn't appear to go the other way, women's lib notwithstanding. In the locker room, Rob rounded on Dwayne, "Where WERE you, Man? You got worthless to try to pass to..." Ted laughed. "He's lookin' for pussy! Darla Jean Nevins is suddenly giving him the eye!" "C'mon, Man, you think she's serious?" Rob chided. "Well, she was looking back. A lot. She's up to something..." Dwayne defended himself. Rob shrugged. "I've never been impressed..." "Hey, pussy's pussy!" Ted chuckled. "Maybe Dwayne can teach her to deep throat! Maybe there's a slut in there!" Rob snorted, but Dwayne ventured, "Won't hurt to find out. I don't have Mary Eikenberry gobbling MY meat..." "Easy," Rob warned. "There's more to it than that. The big thing about Mary is that, good as she looks, she's not all JUST about looks. That makes her a BIG improvement over Claudette. I don't treat her like my personal slut, either -- and I'd appreciate it if you assholes didn't make noises like I do." Ted was dubious. "So, like you're trying to sell me on the idea that you're hung up on her? What about Bang Nation out there? You haven't stopped fucking strange..." Rob's premiere position in the local pecking order made him such a catch that he seldom went without gratification. The other guys called the cluster of 'B' and 'C' class girls slavering after him 'Bang Nation', chuckling at Rob's tales of some poor thing abasing herself to make her grab at the brass ring of popularity. Rob shrugged. "Bang Nation is doing without, since Prom night. One of you guys needs to step up to the plate and give 'em someone to drop their pants for..." Ted looked comically aghast, and Dwayne shook his head, laughing. Neither of them could command the popularity Rob did; Bang Nation was going to be out of luck, it looked like. Neither of them could admit the fact, but both knew that they just didn't have it. Still, when the girls realized and started scrabbling, one or both might get lucky... "You shitting me?" Ted asked. He couldn't imagine putting the caboose on the gravy train Rob had, now that Claudette was out of the way. Hell, Rob had been quietly banging chicks behind Claudette's back since forever... "A steady thing with Grade A shit versus an off and on set of Grade B and C stuff? Do the math, fuckhead." Rob retorted. "If I need more, I'll talk Mary into it, some way -- but it hasn't been necessary, yet!" Rob wasn't thrilled that suddenly Mary had a rep all over school, but it wasn't his fault. Mary had collected him soon after his noisy breakup with Claudette on the dance floor at the Prom, just listening initially while he ranted and raved, but slowly offering more and more comfort and support. By the time three a.m. came around, a little beer had lubed them both and the pair were kissing; things went very little further on Prom Night, but they'd already exceeded anything Claudette ever offered. All last week, things had slowly built; Rob found himself spending more and more time with Mary, and getting more and more in the way of rewards for it. Where Claudette only allowed Rob inside the boundaries of her personal space in public, Mary seemed content to allow his hands to wander more and more in private, while maintaining basically the same standard as Claudette in public. Friday night, they'd had sex in Rob's Jeep Cherokee, up at the overlook. The windows were open, and Mary came LOUDLY, wailing Rob's name and prompting discovery by several witnesses in nearby cars. Since, in the interests of her comfort, he had encouraged her to ride him cowgirl style, her identity was easily determined, and word went through school like wildfire! Claudette had publicly denounced her by nine a.m. Monday, having gotten the word sometime Saturday. Rob's lunch hour had started out pretty hectic, as his chosen woman wailed and gnashed her teeth over her downfall and worried over his reaction -- but Rob had no particular complaint with the idea of her being very publicly his, since it discouraged Bang Nation, which was now an irritant. So Rob comforted her, and comforting turned to necking, and necking turned to... well, Rob had to shove her panties in her mouth to keep Mary from adding to her own legend as she got her cum at the end of the little tryst they had in the woods just off the school parking lot. The girl was just LOUD! But she was also a VERY nice ride, and had worked her way under Rob's skin to the point that he didn't see himself bothering with Bang Nation for the conceivable future. If Mary's snooty girlfriends were going to shun her, it only meant that she had more time for him... ------- "Mother, we need to talk!" Beth Ann Nevins took this as a good thing; finally, her daughter was going to talk to her about whatever it was that caused her to cry at night! "All right, Dear. Here in the kitchen?" "Um, not if Dad's going to be home soon," Darla Jean sighed. "This is, uh, 'girl talk'." "Okay -- your room, then?" "Fine." The pair ascended the stairs and entered Darla Jean's room, where by some unknown convention, Darla Jean seated herself on her bed while her mother took the task chair at Darla Jean's desk. Darla Jean would have preferred the opposite arrangement, but... Taking a breath, she dove in, "Mother, I need protection." "Protection?" Beth Ann blinked. "Is someone bothering you at school?" Darla Jean rubbed her forehead; this was going to be difficult -- Mother was SO CLUELESS! "No one that I don't want to..." She sighed. "Umm, I mean... contraception." "Oh. OH! Really?" Beth Ann absorbed this fairly quietly, which surprised her daughter no end. "What about rubbers?" Darla Jean was floored. Mother didn't come off the walls or light her up -- she just went right to practical matters! Darla Jean had expected wild excitement -- surprise, disbelief, maybe recriminations... Instead, she got rubbers... "Um, they don't work." "Sorry?" Darla Jean looked hangdog. "I, uh, get stupid when I'm hot. I just don't want to feel the things." "Oh." Beth Ann eyed her daughter. "Well, I can sympathize, but rubbers protect against disease, too." She paused a moment. "How many times have you done it thus far?" "Once -- or three times, depending on how you count it." "Wow! Young boys..." Beth Ann's face reflected fond memories. "Mother!" "Your father was an absolute satyr when we were younger -- but guys peak about your age, and girls peak about mine..." "I... had no idea..." Mother was horny? Well, it's not like you want to think about what goes on... Beth Ann shrugged. "Your father is still incredibly good in bed, but he's just slower -- slower to get off, and slower to recover. The former is a blessing; the latter..." She eyed her daughter. "By now, you've discovered that the women in this family are highly sexed. I figured we'd talk about this when you started masturbating... Oh!" The light dawned. "THAT'S it, isn't it? Why you make noises in bed?" Darla Jean nodded. "Stupid of me." "How come I didn't know?" Darla Jean asked. "It's no accident that our room is on the opposite side of the house," Beth Ann simpered. "Your father isn't too demonstrative -- strict upbringing. I got used to keeping things low-key..." She mused a moment. "I was a lot wilder than him, when we first met -- we almost didn't make it. But he was... virile..." "Uh, thanks, Mother," Darla Jean held up her hands. "Too much information..." Beth Ann laughed. "Okay, so, we come to you." She searched her memory. "Friday night's overnight wasn't exactly as advertised?" "Well, no," Darla Jean admitted uncomfortably. "But it started out innocent enough." "Do I ask who?" "Ummm, no." "What if you're pregnant?" "I'm not." Darla Jean squared her shoulders, "Even if I am, it's not his fault. He offered, and I just couldn't bear to lose my cherry to a rubber thingie. It's not like he was gonna say, 'My way or the highway'." "Is it going to happen again?" "Well, yeah." "Why am I getting strange vibes, here? Who was this person?" "Well, a friend. But it was the first time for both of us. Neither of us had any experience; it didn't seem to smart to go and get all moon- eyed..." Beth Ann sighed. THIS was what came of having a daughter with an I.Q. in the top five percent. "That's a very rational attitude. A Seventies attitude even -- but the Seventies were before HIV. What did HE think of this?" "He agreed with me." Beth Ann raised an eyebrow. "Didn't he have fun? Do we need to talk technique?" "Look," Darla Jean replied, "it was an absolute blast for BOTH of us -- but we're BOTH too smart to get locked into anything on the basis of one admittedly great night of sex..." "You are, huh?" Beth Ann looked triumphant. "That narrows the field considerably..." "MOTHER!" "All right. We'll get started with the birth control consultation. But you need to be CAREFUL. The Pill doesn't protect you from disease! THIS time, your partner was safe, by definition, if he was telling the truth about his level of experience..." "He was." "... but you're going to go hunting for the experienced, and danger goes with the territory. You REALLY need to re-think the rubber thing." "Sitting here with you, it's a great idea. Hot, wet, and itchy, with a... cock... in my hand..." Darla Jean couldn't meet her mother's eye. Beth Ann understood, but this was a time to press hard, if possible. "Think about it. HARD." Darla Jean nodded. "I'll go call the doctor." "Mother?" "Mmm?" "How come it gets worse, after?" "After you've tasted the forbidden fruit?" Beth Ann smiled. "It's how we propagate the species... You'd be surprised how giving birth shuts you down for a while -- but that's mostly lack of energy. You'd also be surprised at how the urge lasts all the way through pregnancy -- I'd have taken your father on in the delivery room, if I could have." Darla Jean laughed, shaking her head at her departing mother's back. ------- Stick and Mary followed Teddy to his car. Teddy drove and Mary sat in back with Stick, who was in a major funk. "My ass is fucked." Teddy looked up in the mirror. "You don't have to ever give me head again, Stick -- and as far as I'm concerned, you never have to admit you did it, either..." Stick rubbed his forehead. "That won't fix it, Man. Thanks, but..." "It'll be all right, Stick," Mary soothed. "Your friends will all understand..." "Like Nate?" Stick grunted. "Nate will be all right. He's just going to need a bit. Nora won't LET him get stupid; he'll probably be all right tomorrow." "My friends are gonna shit on me..." Stick husked. "Who are your REAL friends, Stick? Nate, Draper, us, Nora... Is there REALLY anyone else?" Mary challenged. "Well, mebbe not," Stick agreed reluctantly. "But the crowd in the 'hood are gonna line up to give me shit..." "We'll try to minimize things," Teddy promised. "I'll stay... away..." "Naw," Stick sighed, "Ain't fair to ya. Besides, I probably gotta cover your ass to keep it from gettin' kicked. Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke!" He tried to grin, but it wasn't any too impressive. Mary pulled him against her and rubbed his hard back. "It'll be okay, Hon. You'll see... You have us, and mark my words, you'll have Nate and Nora, too..." "Dunno 'bout Draper..." Stick mused sadly. Teddy prepared to make the turn that would head them toward Stick's neighborhood, but Mary caught his eye and shook her head, tapping her chest. Stick needed TLC, not a chance to spill his guts to unsympathetic ears. Teddy took the hint and headed for Mary's... ------- In Nate's car on the way home, Nora analyzed his silence. "You're still mad at me." "Yeh. But that ain't all of it. I'm kinda fucked up right now." There was another minutes-long silence, and Nora tried again, "Your mother's something!" Nate looked away from the road. "What's THAT supposed to mean?" Nora blinked. Nate was certainly cranky! "I meant that she caught Hell overnight, but she seemed to be dealing with it pretty well -- like the whole thing was minor!" She paused a moment. "And the way she jumped up and defended Stick was pretty awesome, too." "Yeh." Obviously, the second part wasn't something Nate was happy about. "You didn't like having that jammed down your throat, did you?" "No. I understand it, now -- but I don't hafta LIKE it!" "What bothers you most about it?" "Stick's a GUY! He's not..." Nate couldn't get it out, really. The whole thing was a betrayal. The two of them had been friends for almost a decade, and Stick had NEVER ONCE done ANYTHING that suggested he'd mess with QUEERS! Nate was going to spend the near future watching all of his acquaintances sidelong, wondering when THEY would turn out to be queer... Nora reached out and rubbed Nate's shoulder. He was taking this very hard, and the fact that she hadn't let anything slip would come up again. Given the other challenges -- her new home, his mother's attack -- just the collection of the strange and the weird -- Nate needed powerful medicine. Nora set herself to provide it. The first part would be easy enough: "I want you to stay with me, tonight," she murmured. Nate eyed her narrowly. "Your Mama and Daddy'll LOVE THAT!" Nate's instinct was to go somewhere and try to sort through this pile of shit ALONE; frankly, she was still on his list for not saying a fucking word about Stick... Pulling into the Wilson mansion's posh driveway added another thought: What was he doin' hanging out with a rich bitch, anyway? Shit had no future that he could see, when he stood back and looked at it... Nora had no problem reading his thoughts; Nate was about to do something stupid, unless she came up with a compelling reason for him not to... "You're not safe at home, Nate." "What?" "You're not safe. Even if this was this pimp, he might get the idea that messing with you will make his point. Look what happened to Mom! Daddy says that he figures that the whole thing was pointed at him..." That did it; it shut Nate down, visibly. He frowned and mulled things, but Nora seemed to have a point... "Well your folks aren't gonna..." "You don't know what they're gonna do!" Nora countered. "They let us sleep together; what's different about this? Besides, if one of them comes down with a case of the stupids, there's STILL a lot of room, here..." "Well..." "C'mon!" Nora tugged at Nate's arm, and it worked, despite the fact that they were still in his car. When she let go, he opened the door and got out. He fidgeted a second, remembering last time, but by the time Nora had circled the car, Jorge was out the door. "Good evening, Sir!" Jorge greeted him. "I have this." He passed Nate and got in, and things kind of resolved themselves... "Jorge! Our books?" Nora stopped the chauffer from driving off. "Do you want them now, Miss, or should I bring them up?" "Now is fine." She'd load Nate down -- that'd keep him from thinking too much. Jorge collected the unruly pile from the back seat. Nate found himself taking a mixed mess, while Nora got her bag. "Come on," she cajoled, pulling his arm. Behind him, Jorge put the car in motion, closing off his alternatives... Shrugging, he followed Nora in. Leticia was at the door, and this time, she was properly deferential to BOTH of them, offering to take Nora's bag and Nate's pile alike, but the pair waved it off. "We'll be fine," Nora dismissed her. "Please tell whoever is handling things that Nate will be staying for dinner." "Yes, Miss." They got to her room, and she put her things on the desk, then collected Nate's pile and stacked it there, too. Nate stood in the middle of the floor, leaking anger and upset. This just wasn't going well; she needed to get him past this, but how? He needed to lash out at something... Suddenly, she knew what was necessary. It might not be the ONLY way, but it would work... Nora closed the door, then took Nate's hands and pulled him to the bed, seating him on it. The vibes he was giving off said that attempting an embrace wasn't going to get it -- it was too much like offering a bribe. No, the other thing was better... She knelt before him and took his hand, "I know that you feel that I have violated the trust between us. I did what I thought was right -- what WAS right for Mary and Stick and Teddy -- but it has cost me and you have been hurt. I'm sorry. I know that's not enough, though. I know you're carrying a lot of stuff around right now, but that this thing I did is keeping you from sharing the others with me. I want to make this right." "How the fuck you gonna do that?" Nate rasped. "I think you should punish me in some way -- I don't know -- a spanking, maybe?" This artfully delivered suggestion took Nate right between the eyes. Instinct prompted agreement, "Yeh, good idea! C'mere!" He snatched her wrist and in just a second, she was draped over his knees. Nate took a shot, "SMACK", before he even thought about it. But it wasn't good enough. Nate didn't think about repercussions, or form, or the effect on their relationship; the next moment was all about how Nora's slacks got in the way. "Get them pants off!" Nora stood and did as she was told. Now that things had started, she was wondering if she'd REALLY had a good idea, or if she'd just screwed up royally! Nate gave her no time to worry about it; as soon as her slacks and panties cleared her knees, he pulled her, off-balance, back over his knees and pinned her with his left arm while he snatched one leg totally free. The other remained puddled around Nora's right ankle as Nate resumed his efforts. SMACK! "You shoulda..." SMACK! "TOLD me this..." SMACK! "No matter WHAT, 'cause..." SMACK! "it was fuckin' important!" SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! "You are..." SMACK! "NOT..." SMACK! "Supposed ta keep..." SMACK! "Secrets..." SMACK! "From..." SMACK! "ME!" SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Nora was crying openly; Nate was laying it on, HARD, giving her not only what she was due, but venting for all of the wild shit that had occurred in the past couple of days! But the immediate sting was receding, being replaced by an itchier, constant irritation that seemed to have other components... Nate came to himself somewhat; Nora's ass was cherry red, he realized, but his hand kept rising and falling, almost of its own accord. He hadn't counted, so he had no idea where they were, or how long they'd been at it; his hand hurt, but there was something about the splat of it on her wide cheeks that was somewhat addictive... Nora was bawling and clutching his leg, but she was WET! Either she'd pissed herself, or she was getting worked up... His initial rage abated, he instinctively backed off -- but he couldn't stop, it seemed. Nora kicked and bounced, causing him to change his attack, or add 'just one more' because he'd missed a stroke; he found himself shifting targets, trying to even out the pink blush on her cheeks. Abruptly, he became aware that he had a hard-on, which embarrassed him somewhat -- but no wonder! Nora's pussy was wide open, puffy, dripping, giving off that unmistakable smell... He dropped a stroke low, along the crease between her ass and her thighs, which popped her along the bottom end of her slit, and he got an "Uuh!" a splattering sound, and a wet hand... Nora was beside herself; the itching, buzzing tingle from her ass was SOOO close to another, similar feeling that seemed to be building in a site nearby... Suddenly, there was this flash... "Uuh!" Another followed, and another... Nate's cock was poking her under the sternum; she tried unsuccessfully to get at it around his thigh, wanting it to add itself to the flashes from her nether lips as Nate's hand grazed them... Nora's pussy lips were fluttering; Nate watched them, hypnotized, as he struck. They weren't taking the brunt of things, but they were getting secondary effects. After every stroke, he watched them clench and release; it seemed like every time, she opened a little bit further. He wanted to go on forever, but her aroma had him so hard that he was gonna stick his cock right through her stomach, at this rate! Somehow, she managed to reach under his leg and was sliding her hand along the crotch of his jeans, caressing his aching balls... "Awright, that's enough," he managed in a strangled whisper. "Kneel up on the bed." Nora did as she was told without even thinking about it. Nate's hard-on told her all she needed to know about what was coming next. She crawled up on the bed and dropped her shoulders to the mattress, waving her reddened ass in the air and reaching between her spread thighs to feel the amazing wetness on their inner surface. Nate would never remember actually getting out of his jeans and shoes; they were just an attempted distraction, not a successful one. He felt the mattress give below his knees, taking his weight, and then Nora's hot, red ass was under his hands. Her pussy was as wide open as he'd ever seen it; sinking the full length of his cock into her wasn't hard at all... Nate's hands gripped Nora's hips and pulled her back onto him. His cock filled her; when her tortured ass bashed into his lower belly, that was the final straw -- Nora screamed and whited out, the supercharged orgasm that the spanking had built blasting through her, "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!" "JEEZUS!" Nate gritted his teeth and hung on, trying to extend things; he'd gotten ONE FUCKIN' STROKE! Nora was going crazy, inside and out, and the sensations were just fuckin' unbelievable! Somehow, he mastered himself enough to ride out the immediate effects of Nora's orgasm, holding himself deep in her while her pink ass cheeks twisted and flexed against his lower belly and groin. Finally, she settled down, and Nate began to move in her to keep up the flow of sensation, sliding in and out smoothly, long-stroking. With every in-stroke, Nate's belly smacked Nora's sore ass; it was painful, but Nora found that she didn't care -- what Nate's cock was doing inside her was the primary thing, and the slap of his balls against her clit came second. The pain in her ass was an add-on, and the nature of it kept seeming to drift back and forth; when examined directly, it was definitely pain, but when other things had her attention, it seemed to be pleasure... This pass just wasn't going to last long, Nate realized. His excitement was too intense and his need to cum too strong. Fortunately, Nora was showing signs of being close again... Nate tried to extend things, but he couldn't. He felt the telltale tickle that said control over his balls was lost and began power-stroking, looking for that last little bit... "HRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!" he grunted, burying himself, his cock pumping long blasts of semen into his lover's vagina. Nora had been close, but without those last few strokes, she'd have never made it. As it was, the impact of his cum on her cervix was what did it for her, bringing her off in time to milk a bit more of his spend from his balls. It wasn't a great orgasm, but it was a good one, and it followed a REALLY great one pretty closely... Nora collapsed forward, unmindful of the effect of the impact that Nate, dragged along, was going to make on her burning ass until it had occurred. "Owwww!" Nate rolled off and got a look at his girlfriend. Nora's face was a mess of tear-ruined makeup, snot from her runny nose, and other drippings. She continued to spasm involuntarily from the sobbing the spanking had produced. But she was smiling when she snuggled into his arms... Nate felt AWFUL; he'd just beat the Hell out of his woman, and the results weren't that pretty... "I, uh, I'm sorry. I don't think I oughta do that when I'm strung out like that..." "Um. Me neither. But I'll live," Nora replied, tucking her head into his shoulder. 'Besides, ' she thought, 'it worked... ' ------- "Inez, Honey, you dere?" Velma's voice came over the intercom. "Miss Nora done brought her boyfrien' home, an' I be needin' some help..." Inez looked over her shoulder at Jason, who had been toying with her breasts while she knelt before his chair; the pair were pretending to watch TV and a carefully poker-faced Bianca was pretending to ignore them. Jason frowned, but withdrew his hands and popped her on the ass, not even enough to sting. "No rest for the wicked." Inez hopped up, pulling her peasant blouse back up over her arms. "I'll be right there, Velma!" She genuflected to her Master and left. Jason glanced over at Bianca and sighed. "Okay, I know I'm a bad example..." Bianca grimaced, shrugging. "Oh, I don't know... You give Mama far more attention, positive AND negative, than Papa ever did. He tended to be self-absorbed..." Jason glanced around. "Speaking of your father... These rooms -- I don't like having inherited them. You'll be moving. I think I'll move your mother tonight." Bianca merely nodded... ------- "Dinner is served," Consuelo intoned. Armand looked up from his monitor. "Inform the others. And bring a pillow to the dining room." "Sir." She withdrew. ------- "Dinner is served." Nate looked up, realizing that both he and Nora were naked from the waist down. "We'll... be along." The maid withdrew. "Baby?" He nudged Nora. "Dinner." "Mmm?" Nora struggled up. "You're a mess, Baby. Go wash up so your Daddy won't see you like that." "Oh. Oh!" A quick glance at a mirror was horrendous! "You, too, then -- you're all sticky." Nora took Nate's hand and led him to the bathroom. ------- "Dinner is served." "Oh, okay." Sharon had been napping; having servants around meant that household chores weren't her province any more, apparently. TV wasn't that exciting; what was she going to do all day? "I'll be right there. Where is the Wench?" "In her k-, uh, in her quarters, most likely, Ma'am." Consuelo looked mildly evasive. "Will she be at dinner?" "Not unless her presence is requested, Ma'am. Otherwise, she'll eat with us." Sharon shook her head. "I'm not used to all this." Consuelo merely waited. "Please ask Armand if she may be present." "Yes, Ma'am." Consuelo headed back to the dining room, thinking, 'Well, at least she isn't trying to run things out of the box... ' ------- Armand presided over an uncharacteristically crowded table. Sharon arrived first, followed by the Wench. Nora and Nate arrived a bit later. Inez and Leticia served; Consuelo supervised in the kitchen while Jason handled the dining room. Jason hovered, directing; when Inez arrived, she made to bare her breasts, but he shook his head fractionally and she left off. Conversation was minimal, initially; Armand was used to eating alone, and just hadn't decided how to handle things. The Wench knelt at Sharon's right, nude as usual, which provided Armand with a bit of amusement when Nate and Nora entered the room; Nate's eyes nearly left his head. Nora picked it up and said, "Nate, Honey, she's doing her job -- it's not polite to stare." Nate shook his head and tried to avoid looking -- without much success. "Lookit, what IS her job?" he asked while waiting for Nora to seat herself. But Nora was looking at the pillow on the seat of her chair. "Daddy..." "I didn't watch, Daughter, but I stumbled upon it in process. Since there is no current tension between you, I assume that all ended well, but..." Armand examined his manicure. 'Oh, shit!' Nate flicked his eyes to Nora's Daddy, but there didn't seem to be any wild action forthcoming. "Sorry." "Not strictly my business," came the reply. "If she'd come running out of her rooms having a fit over it, things might have been different..." "I missed something..." Sharon guessed. "I allowed you to rest undisturbed, but it's been an eventful day, for Mr. Adams, especially." Armand handed conversation over to Nate and Nora with a nod. Nora settled gingerly onto the pillow. "Nate's mother was attacked last night, Mom. Tortured. She's in the hospital, but doing all right." "Oh, my!" Sharon gasped. "How bad?" "The details would ruin your digestion -- perhaps after dinner? Suffice it to say that her ordeal lent your adventure a distinct party air by comparison," Armand interrupted blandly. "And that wasn't everything, either," Nora sighed. "No?" "I found out my best friend is doin'... homosexual stuff with another guy. Kinda shook me," Nate responded. "Is he gay, then?" Sharon asked. "Nah," Nate grunted. "They're sharin' a woman." "It's Mary, Mom -- and Teddy. And Nate's friend Stick Williams. I knew about it, and I didn't tell Nate," Nora interjected. "And?" "I spanked her." Nate flicked a glance at Armand, but the man didn't even blink. "Oh." Sharon focused her attention on her soup. Things were headed downhill, fast... She glanced at Nora, but her daughter merely smiled and placed her hand over Nate's. Well, maybe not, then... "Mary... Mary Nally?" "Uh huh." "Teddy... Frick? She's having sex with Teddy? Little Teddy?" "Yes. But Teddy's sort of..." Nora rocked her hand. "Um. Well, Teddy showed all of the classic signs... So, this friend of Nate's... Stick? He's gay?" "No..." Nora stared at the ceiling while she marshaled her thoughts. "If anything, he's a lot less inclined to be gay than Teddy. He's just giving Teddy what he wants." "Oh, okay. And Stick and Mary?" "Oh, yeah." Nora rolled her eyes. Sharon thought about asking Nora Stick's race, but she was pretty sure she knew the answer. "So, everybody is doing everybody." "Yeah. There are differences in approach, but that's it." Sharon turned to Nate. "And this is a surprise. Well, I'd be unsettled, too. Still, it appears to be very bisexual, not very gay. How bad is it?" Nate shrugged. "Lotta dudes are gonna jump to conclusions. I did. It's gonna splash over." "On you." Sharon confirmed. "Yeh." "Even though you're deeply involved heterosexually." "I don't think I'm overreacting," Nate insisted. "I had a shit-fit. Other dudes won't even look at it hard -- they'll just point the finger." "How are they going to explain Mary?" "I dunno. Most of 'em probably won't bother." "I'm a latecomer to this scene, but I'm aware of the basic situation," Armand interjected. "Teddy is submissive -- a bottom, homosexually. If I'm correct, he's offering oral and anal services to Stick, basically without much expectation of recompense. You don't have to be particularly homosexual to accept those favors -- merely a bit dominant." "Well, Stick's blown him." "Because Mary insisted it wasn't fair if he didn't give Teddy SOMETHING..." Nora interjected. Armand grunted. "There is some truth in that, long-term. If it was just a scene, though, it probably wouldn't be necessary. Teddy would probably take quite a bit before getting fed up, as it were. I'd be willing to bet, however, that no inducement in the world would get Stick to offer Teddy anal services..." "Don't look like it," Nate grunted. "There it is, then," Armand replied. "Even consensual anal sex is a submissive act. Stick's use of Teddy resembles the use he would give a woman. Even fellating him is roughly analogous to reluctant cunnilingus. Stick isn't particularly gay -- but he IS asserting some dominance. No doubt he is asserting himself somewhat with Mary, too." "He is," Nora affirmed. "Mary likes it. They have a kind of pecking order going on." "I wouldn't worry about Stick asking you to engage in homosexual acts, then, Nate. Relative reputation is another matter. You can spurn your friend, but the other two are Nora's friends, so it might get sticky. You need to decide what's important, and if this isn't, ride it out." "It ain't normal," Nate groused. "What's 'normal'?" Armand returned. "This house is a regular Peyton Place these days, and very little that goes on in it is 'normal'. Normal is a fiction; to a great many narrow-minded people, your relationship to my daughter is offensively abnormal." "Yeah..." Nate looked away. "Get over it. Broaden your perspective. Would it surprise you to learn that I have sexed a male anally? Without his consent? Or at least, in the face of extreme reluctance... And it had NOTHING to do with sex, per se -- as I related, anal sex is a submission, and taking a heterosexual male anally is a potentially mind-breaking act of dominance." "Armand! Please!" Sharon wailed. "Uhhh, thanks for sharing, but..." Nate was visibly nauseated. "The way you're acting proves my point, Son," Armand said gently. "I seldom resort to such -- it's an object lesson on the order of the incident with Nora's mother yesterday -- or yours, last night. As I said, sex has nothing to do with it other than its usefulness as a tool." "Okay, can we change the subject?" Nate asked plaintively. His eye lit on the Wench; fortunately, or unfortunately, his position and hers kept her from being seen below a point just above her nipples. "I gotta know -- what IS her job?" "The Wench?" Armand chuckled. "Tell him." "I am a slave, the lowest of the low in my Master's house. My primary function is to service my Master's guests..." the Wench intoned. It was becoming a litany... Armand interjected, "Odd that you haven't noticed that the only current guest is Mr. Adams... Nora and her mother are residents." The Wench blanched, and Nora and Sharon's eyes popped. The Wench made to move, but Armand put out a hand, forestalling her. "On the other hand, I assigned you to Sharon, and you are here at her request. Besides, Mr. Adams is being well taken care of..." The Wench slumped in relief. "See me after dinner, however -- I have a task for you." "Yes, Master." Nate, looking on, found himself in agreement with Nora's Daddy; not much that happened around here was 'normal'... ------- Dinner was over; Nate and Nora had returned to Nora's room without overt comment. It was Nora's intent to make Nate's overnight stay a fait accompli by the simple expedient of not mentioning it to anyone. After all, she had a queen-sized bed... Inez had picked up Jason's dinner and was off to deliver it; Bianca was dining in the kitchen. Pete and Ed were there, too. Pete was pretending not to be checking Bianca out, and Ed was dawdling over his dinner, having arrived late and barely started it. Bianca hopped up and left, throwing a last glance at Pete over her shoulder, and Ed, picking it up, chuckled. "So, when are you gonna make your move?" "Huh?" "Aww, c'mon! Another week or so and she's gonna suddenly trip and fall under ya in the hallway!" Ed chuckled. "Nah," Pete grunted, pretending nonchalance. "She wouldn't get that brave. And I CAN'T -- she's under age!" Ed grunted. "You CAN. Everybody'll look the other way if she asks 'em to. Her Papa and his wicked knife are gone, Man. She's do-able!" "Well, MAYBE," Pete sighed doubtfully. "Don't think I wouldn't like to. But to cover MY ass she's got to get pretty transparent; I don't see that. Mexican girls are flirts, but it doesn't necessarily mean she wants to jump in bed with you -- it's cultural." Ed grunted. "I think you're talkin' your way out of something fine! You give her a little encouragement, and you'll be pickin' cherries, Man!" Velma chuckled throatily. "Dat lech might be right! Fo' sho' she gotta crush on yo'!" She turned to Pete and waved a finger, "But yo' looka HERE -- if'n she do, it's 'cause she 'spects yo' to do RIGHT by her, not jus' climb on, split her open an' pour yo' juice in dere!" She gave Ed the evil eye, "Not like SOME droolin' bastids we got 'round heah!" "I'll keep that in mind," mumbled Pete, who, thoroughly browbeaten and embarrassed, made shift to leave the table quickly. That left Ed -- and Ed was taking his time. And he was spending a lot of it looking thoughtfully at Velma. This went on for about twenty minutes, between various interruptions, but Velma took notice fairly quickly. After she'd stood it a while, she turned and rumbled truculently, "Whatchew lookin' at?" "Nothin'." Actually, the thought process going on immediately before the challenge was something on the order of, 'Those tits are like watermelons! Wonder what they feel like? And if that's a nipple, it's damn near as big as my thumb!' Actually, it WAS a nipple, and it was growing under Ed's regard. "Yo' sittin' 'round dreamin' 'bout young stuff? Old bastid like yo' jus' ruin young stuff -- be all busy gettin' yours an' leave a poor gal hangin'!" Ed, stung, ranted, "I'd last long enough to get your big ass off a coupla times!" "Yo' shit!" Velma replied derisively. "Dat tallywhacker o' yours probly a whole three an' a half inches long! I'd nevah know yo' was dere!" "It's plenty long enough, if I could find a hole to poke it in!" Ed spouted. "I'd have to roll your big black ass in flour and go for the wet spot!" "Yo' want me ta show yo' where da fuck it is?" There was a mountain of woman towering over Ed, who looked up and blinked. Velma blinked, too, and turned and shuffled off. How the fuck had they gotten there? She leaned over the sink, pretending to be doing something, but it was purely to hide the fact that her nipples were vainly, painfully trying to push her bra cups away from her heavy breasts. They'd just crawled all over each other's ass -- why was she so hot? Ed was sitting there, wondering the same thing. Wasn't there an invitation in there, somewhere? Well, he couldn't leave things where they were... "You better just keep some beside the bed; if I come staggerin' in and start usin' you for a mattress, I'll be stone drunk and in no condition to go lookin' for it..." "Prolly be all that happened, too. Yo' be staggerin' in, pump three strokes, make a mess on da sheets an' pass out! An' DEN I'd hafta bolt the door alla time -- an' I'd hafta put da bolt in myself, 'cause I'd be protectin' myself fum YO' drunken ass! Yo'd fix da fookin' thing so yo' could git past it..." "Shit. I'd probably wake up wearin' a leash!" Ed sallied, "Or tied to the damned bed!" "What I want yo' scrawny ass makin' lumps in my bed fo'?" Velma whirled to address him directly. Ed got up and deliberately filled his coffee cup from the pot, then challenged her with his eyes. "Hmmm. On the other hand, your big ass is probably softer than MY bunk... If I gotta pass out somewhere..." He turned and walked out, leaving Velma puffing and blowing with a fine mix of outrage and arousal. "I don' gotta worry 'bout YO' ever findin' out!" she railed at his departing back. Ed was grinning from ear to ear. If this was courtship, it was the damnedest one that HE'D ever heard of! They hadn't had a single polite thing to say to one another -- but he was pretty sure she'd invited him to bed. Hell, she'd issued a challenge; question was, did he want it? Velma's hands shook as she scrubbed at a dirty broiler rack. Had he said what she THOUGHT he'd said? And what the Hell had gotten into her? She'd stuck her foot in it, big time! What if the bastid showed up some night? The wet pulse in her pussy brought on by the question answered it, and left her thoroughly embarrassed, to boot... ------- "Master?" The Wench knelt before Armand, who was seated in a recliner in the Media Room, in his robe and lounging pajamas. There was a bit of trepidation in her -- had she screwed up at dinner, even a little bit? "Ah, Wench." Armand turned from split-screen monitoring several in- house locations. "Sharon has returned to her quarters?" "Yes, Master." "Good. You will continue to serve Sharon. In fact, I want you to do your level best to seduce her, gradually. Be careful; I want no ham- handed attempt, doomed to failure. I want you to succeed. Your assessment of her position in this house is correct in some particulars -- but she is STILL subservient to ME. I will be clarifying that for her, over time. She is your sister in bondage; an older sister, perhaps, and higher in the pecking order, but still not a freewoman, despite her current assumption otherwise. I want the two of you to seek each other for comfort when the rough pleasures of men prove to be too much. Do you understand?" "Yes, Master." "If you have questions, address them to me as they occur. Now, come here and take the edge off -- I want to be fully in control when I interview her later..." Armand opened his robe and his pajama fly, and the Wench crawled forward and went to work on his erection. ------- Chapter 26: Stick Gets Some Consolation and Inez Moves Inez delivered Jason his dinner in his office in the living area of his rooms. Jason looked up, waved for the tray to be placed at one side of his desktop, and directed, "You will be sleeping here, tonight." "Master?" Inez asked, confused. "Sleeping with you in the bed you shared with your soon-to-be ex- husband should probably be giving me a kick," Jason related, "but it is not. Your new life is with me, not vice-versa. You will be moving here. I have asked Armand to approve remodeling that will expand these rooms, taking some space from the next apartment over in order to accommodate Bianca. YOU will move in here, effective tonight." He waved his hand at the door behind him. "The bedroom is there; see to it that you don't disrupt my things too much as you bring yours in, and get a feel for the way I organize. If you mess things up, you'll spend all day fixing them, afterward." "Yes, Master." "Come here." Inez circled the desk, hesitantly. Jason took her chin. "You are MINE! Your old life is gone, as if it never existed. What you carry in HERE," he poked her belly, relatively gently, "is mine also. Bianca, in that she is now my ward, is my responsibility, but she is a free woman. YOU are not; YOU are property. You are to dispense with your old life; it is irrelevant to you in your new condition. Do you understand?" "Yes, Master." Clearly, she knew what to say; just as clearly, she didn't REALLY understand. Well, time would teach her. "I want you nude in these rooms, like the Wench is. You will stop at the door and put on a skirt and blouse and go about your business, but HERE, I want you nude. Do you understand?" "Yes, Master." "You're still dressed..." Inez blinked, then started hauling at her peasant blouse. "Hurry! Learn to do it quickly; I'm not interested in striptease, only the results!" She stepped out of her skirt. "Fold it neatly, and place it by the door. We'll get you a piece of furniture to place such things upon." Inez took the garments to the door, folded them, and placed them neatly beside the door, which was wide open. "Come back here..." Jason directed. Inez returned to a position beside his chair. "Turn around..." A quick look of trepidation, and she did so. SMACK! Jason gave her a good slap on the ass -- nothing incredible, just a good, solid attention-getter. "Work on your speed," he admonished, then added, "Now go and take a good, hard look at my bedchamber. I want you to remember how it is SUPPOSED to look..." Inez did as she was told, rubbing her ass; Jason watched her from the corner of his eye. Inez consoled herself that she was learning; she'd never be perfect, because Jason wouldn't let her be -- but she could do her best to approach it. Letting herself into Jason's bedroom, she realized that she was in trouble; Jason was a neat-freak, totally anal-retentive. Everything would HAVE to be perfect -- constantly. That would be a major challenge, one that would no doubt keep her very busy. The closet looked like a parade -- everything on a hanger, spaced with precision... Where was she going to put her things? The drawers in the bureau were all in use... Timidly, she returned to him at the desk, "Master, where am I going to put my things?" Jason frowned. After a bit of thought, he announced, "We'll have to get another chest of drawers. As for the closet, see if you can narrow the distance between the hangers by half. I don't want things all squashed against each other, though; use the minimum distance that allows decent separation. You don't have that much on hangers, do you? Take the left side. I don't really see what you need from a chest; you're not allowed underclothing..." "Um, yes, Master -- no, Master! Yes, Master!" "Go! I don't want a disaster at bedtime, so hurry up -- but do it right, or I'll spank you!" Inez made for the door, and Jason added, "If it will save you time, you can go nude to your old rooms..." Inez recognized the expression that greeted her scandalized glance as his equivalent of a grin. ------- The trio was at Mary's; Stick had grumbled a little bit, but allowed himself to be led. Mary put a beer in his hand and rubbed his shoulders a bit, then took Teddy's hand and led him off to the other side of the room. Ducking into the walk-in closet, she started shucking out of her clothing, but her eyes were on Teddy. "Right now, his attention is all on what he's paying for; we need to remind him what he's getting. I'll get his head and his hands busy, but his bottom half is yours, okay?" "Okay." "If we get all worked up and Stick runs out too fast, I'll take care of you; you need to concentrate on him. Make him happy; remind him what the upside is." She pulled her nightdress over her head. "Ready?" "Ready." "Okay, Baby, relax." Mary rubbed Stick's hard shoulders. "Things aren't as bad as you think. Things could be a lot worse." She leaned forward over the back of the couch and kissed him. Stick was holding onto his depression, but it got hard, quick, when you were getting kissed and mauled and shit... "Draper's gonna fuckin' go ballistic..." "Not if it's presented right." Mary came around and knelt on the couch, resuming her kissing attack while reaching for his fly. Stick reached up and collected a handful of thinly covered breast; kneeling like this presented Mary's small, splayed tits to their best effect. She stopped at his waist, having opened the zipper, and opened a couple of buttons on her nightie so that he could get at one directly. Stick closed his eyes and enjoyed her lips and the feel of her breasts while she worked at his jeans again. The woman had four hands, it seemed like... He raised his hips and his jeans and boxers slid down his legs and a soft hand began cradling his balls. His attention solely on Mary's kiss and her other attentions, he didn't even think about how his shoes and socks came off, or his jeans and boxers got totally out of the way until a warm, wet mouth descended over his cock. After THAT, it was too late to worry... He broke for air and gasped, "Jeezus, Teddy! You sure I can't jus' put you in a skirt?" Teddy released the swollen head of Stick's cock with a loud pop. "If you think it'll help..." He rolled his lips over the glans and started working the sensitive area just under the ridge, supplementing the effort with his tongue. Coherent thought was going by the wayside -- Stick had too much going on. He buried a hand in Teddy's curls to direct him, (not that he needed it), and resumed kissing and fondling Mary, letting go and slipping into the maelstrom of sensations that the attention brought. A minute later, he was clutching Teddy's head to his crotch while he pulsed out a load into the little fucker's throat. Why'd he have to be such a damned fine cocksucker? Mary watched him recover, her smile a layer over her concern. "Better?" "Yeh." Stick ruffled Teddy's curls. "You gonna get that skirt -- but it'll be only to keep folk who don't know no better from askin' stupid questions while the three of us is out." Reaching around, he rubbed Teddy's back. "If you gotta put up with shit like that, I figure I can suck your dick occasionally... Only fair. As for the rest of them assholes: Fuck 'em if they can't take a goddam joke. Mary, give Ted a little, I wanna watch." ------- "Mistress? Master wants to see you..." The Wench wiped her mouth on her arm as she leaned in Sharon's door. "Do you know what about?" Sharon asked. "Well, no. But he has no urgent, uh, sexual needs." The Wench wiped at her lips with a finger and thumb, not meeting Sharon's eyes. "Uh... huh. I don't know whether to thank you or be mad..." Sharon's expression reflected the conflict. "Um, it's not as if I had a choice. Or even like I was the first. Or..." "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Enough! Where is he?" "The Media Room. Do you know where it is?" "Across from the study?" Sharon asked. The Wench nodded. "Thanks." Sharon turned back toward her bedroom, and the Wench followed. When Sharon shrugged out of her nightie and grabbed a pair of pants, she asked, "You're dressing?" "You and I have different rules," Sharon responded. "One of mine is 'never make it easy'." She grabbed a blouse. "No underwear?" the Wench wondered. "Some things aren't worth the aggravation," Sharon retorted. "If messing with my mind is what he wants, he'll just shred them. If I'm lucky, the outerwear will hold him; if not, anything else will just be in the way..." She strode out. The Wench decided to wait; she might be wanted, after... "You sent for me?" Sharon opened the conversation as she entered the room. Armand was sitting on a couch, watching four different things split- screened on a large monitor, apparently. He looked up and got rid of three inputs, leaving one, frozen. "I thought you might like to see what happened to Mr. Adams' mother..." He patted a place on the couch beside him, and reached for a packet of materials on the table before him. Sharon settled gingerly while she took the packet. This wasn't Armand's usual adversarial approach... Flipping over the first photograph caused Sharon to forget her unease, however: "Oh my God!" She peered at the picture of the bedraggled black woman lying in the road, "Are those NAILS?" "Yes," Armand confirmed. "Big ones, too." "That's barbaric!" Sharon moved on to a picture taken in the ER. "Unbelievable!" "It's pretty impressive," Armand agreed. "At this point, we have no evidence that the attack on her is related to the one on you -- but we're not done investigating. The evidence, however, indicates that a local pimp was out to make an impression on the unaffiliated hookers downtown. Tabitha Adams made a perfect target, being past her prime and pretty fiercely independent. When I confirm this, I'll take steps." "Why? What evidence DO you have?" "His people were showing this around..." Armand flicked a switch on his remote and the scene currently being displayed -- the kitchen, Sharon thought -- was replaced by video of Ms. Adams, bound over a sawhorse. The view zoomed in to show a garden hose with a cone-shaped tip being fed into the black woman's ass. In a couple of seconds, the hose jumped, and muted screaming began. "I turned down the volume," Armand related diffidently. Over the next few minutes, he fast-forwarded to several highlights of the horrendous torture session. The nailing was particularly awful; Sharon covered her eyes, but the scream... Armand paused the video. "Ordinarily, even young Nate's relationship to Nora would be irrelevant, but Ms. Adams apparently told the pimp, one Rodday Pinkham, that she was under my protection. It wasn't true, but his disregard is an issue..." His voice was cold. "Given this, I've decided to extend that protection, retroactively. If, as it appears, Mr. Pinkham ordered this, I plan to deal with him. He is apparently only loosely affiliated with any organizations... As for the actual perpetrator, he is undoubtedly a professional, and will be difficult to find -- and it might not even be worth it, except to retain him as a resource. He is extremely creative; despite some obviously intense pain and dramatic-looking injuries, Ms. Adams was never really in any danger of losing her life..." "You're unbelievable!" Sharon exclaimed, shocked. "Oh, all right. To be fair, if I catch him, I might let Ms. Adams visit a bit of payback upon him." Armand chuckled and Sharon realized he had been feeding her a line. "In the meantime, I'm going to let Nora get away with her current plans to shelter her boyfriend overnight, in case this pimp has further ideas." Armand turned fully toward Sharon. "... Which brings us to you..." "Me?" "Specifically, what am I going to do about you? Some things are clear, and some aren't. You're here, which is as I willed it, but your status is unclear to you, isn't it?" Sharon suddenly realized that based upon previous experience with conversations of this nature, she was sitting too close to Armand. Withdrawal, on the other hand, seemed futile; she was in his house, for God's sake! "Yes..." "I think it is time we clarified your expectations and mine, don't you?" Armand smiled archly. "Come here!" he barked. Sharon didn't move, but he didn't expect her to; the purpose of the command was to shock her into immobility. A quick grab, and she was over his knees, pinned. "Armand!" "Silence!" Armand worked the zipper to Sharon's slacks. "Push them down!" "No!" SMACK! Sharon's ass took the imprint of Armand's hand. "Okay! Okay!" She started shoving at the pants, pushing them down over her hips. "Another video has arrived," Armand grated, "one starring you! Do you want to see it? Given your responses, it wasn't that bad..." "Oooohhh..." Humiliation turned Sharon scarlet. No wonder he was pissed! "Noooo..." "Frankly, I think you were highly sensible about the whole thing," Armand stated matter-of-factly. "Cooperation, and an attempt to reap some pleasure from the acts made good sense. I'm sure you learned a few things, too, didn't you? How was it?" "It was... Armand!" Sharon REALLY didn't want to go into it -- the fact that she'd managed to cum more than once during a rape was pretty embarrassing... "True confessions time, my Dear. Obviously, you enjoyed it..." "Well, okay. Yeah." "Have you made any comparisons?" "Huh?" "With me." "Oh." Actually, it hadn't occurred to her. "I remember thinking at the time that you'd done worse..." Armand was rubbing her ass; when was he going to start beating her? "That wasn't necessarily what I was talking about. I'd intended to broaden your experience, and this certainly offered an opportunity. What did you think?" "Um, I..." Sharon really wasn't prepared for this. "We'll leave it, then, for now," Armand said breezily. "It's time to speak of your role in my house. We're not married, but you're technically not an employee. You ARE my dependent, however... The Wench calls you Mistress, but you are not in charge, here -- I want that clearly understood." "I'll stay out of the way until things clear up, Armand..." "You will not be relocating anywhere. Is that understood?" "Armand! We're NOT married!" There was a wrench at her arm and Sharon found herself bowed backwards over Armand's knees, looking up at him with terrified eyes. "You are MINE!" he hissed. "Marriage has NOTHING to do with your relationship to me! You belong to me! You always have! Admit it!" "Y-yes, Armand!" Arguing with this intensity was beyond her. "The coin you will render in return for your residence under this roof is the one you have always utilized -- your submission to me! Do you understand?" "Y-yes, Armand!" "You will remove certain of Jason's burdens of responsibility for the operation of this house from his shoulders, working with him to ensure smooth operations. You may rely upon him to instill discipline, but I expect you to set standards, understood?" Sharon nodded, wide-eyed. "As to where you sit in the pecking order: There are slaves and servants in this house, and there are free men and women. You sit at the pinnacle of the former group, but are not a member of the latter. You will submit to my needs, on demand, as you always have. Do you understand?" Sharon nodded, blinking and shaking. Armand rolled her back over. "Now lie there, quietly. Any questions?" "Ummm..." Sharon gathered her wits. "What about Nora?" "Nora is a free woman, aside from her obligations to us, her parents. She represents the pinnacle of the other group, which is quite small, at the moment. The only other free woman in the household is Inez's fourteen-year-old daughter Bianca. Everyone else is either a slave or a servant." Armand resumed rubbing Sharon's ass, causing her to tense and relax, tense and relax. "Jason is a servant, but he is also my right hand; I recommend that you not attempt to dominate him, as it will irritate him and cause him to attempt to put you in your place, with or without my permission. I recommend that you develop a relationship based upon mutual assistance and cooperation. Ultimately, Jason sits above you, for he is a servant, and you are a slave." "Armand!" Armand's hand on her ass lifted, and Sharon flinched -- but it did not descend. Armand went on reasonably, "Based upon our relationship, I will allow you to continue to use my Christian name to address me -- but you will do so with respect, or you will pay for it as you always have. Do you understand?" "Yes, Armand." When was he going to hit her? Sharon's ass was clenched tight... "Many of the females in this household are technically servants, but would acknowledge themselves as somewhat less. I'm sure you are aware of the implications..." "Ummm..." "I use them -- as I will use you! This is not a major change in the status quo -- I have always used you when I felt like doing so. This hasn't -- will not -- change; you will submit to me on demand, just as you are now." The hand descended -- but gently -- and began rubbing again. "Males are servants; I have taken the submission of one or two of them without changing their status. Jason has been known to punish in this manner. Aside from Jason, and perhaps Charles, the overseer, however, they are subordinate to you and will follow your instructions as if they were mine. Again, do not cross Jason in this area -- let him brief them." Armand rubbed some more, musing. "I may resume attracting toys, and I may not. Having you more readily available may slake certain of my hungers. On the other hand, you may decide that having some idiot around to take the load off of you is convenient, as has happened before. Should I resume taking in toys, remember your place; THEY are guests, and free women, until properly trained -- YOU are not. Do you understand?" "Yes, Armand." Sharon paused a moment. "Do I have any say in this?" "No." Armand continued rubbing her ass. "I plan to continue to assign the Wench to you as a helpmeet, except where it may conflict with her primary duties. You should consider her your sister in bondage -- perhaps develop a friendship. Lean on her, when you need support that you can't expect to get from me -- I'm sure she'll provide it. She apparently enjoys serving you. Now, let's watch the video, shall we?" The next twenty minutes were a confusing mix of sensations for Sharon. There was humiliation at her on-screen antics -- a humiliation that Armand reinforced with bland comments like, "You like that, huh?" and "You choke well, don't you? Hmmmm." Mixed with this was arousal from the on- screen content; now that she was somewhat used to seeing herself as a performer, she could concentrate on the content, which, let's face it, was pretty racy, especially for a submissive... Finally, there was Armand's constant stimulation of her ass; he never struck her again after that initial swat to get her going, but his ministrations ensured that she was flinching constantly, clenching her buttocks and starting as she awaited the swat that she considered inevitable. Eventually, all that clenching up became an end in itself, due to the stimulation it gave her... By the time the video of her ravishment ended, Sharon wanted an orgasm, BAD; Armand knew this, but deliberately made no move to grant it. "Up you go. We're done for the evening, unless you have questions. I recommend that you meet with Jason in the morning and get some idea of the scope of your duties as housemistress. All set?" Sharon nodded, slowly pulling her pants back up. She couldn't BELIEVE he was leaving things like this... Surely, he knew... Armand's smile told her that not only did he know, he was intentionally leaving her in her sorry state. Dismissed, she staggered out of the Media Room toward her quarters, "Damned sadist..." She was going to have to masturbate... "Wow! You look rough!" the Wench exclaimed as Sharon stomped through the door to her rooms, "What happened?" "Typical Armand," Sharon hissed through clenched teeth. "I... need to be alone..." "You need to vent a bit and have a nice hot bath," the Wench argued. "Why don't you undress and stretch out on the massage table in the bath and you can tell me all about it while I work some of the tension out?" "I..." Dammit, the tension problem was in her clit! Still, she could masturbate in the bath, under water. The massage would feel good, if it didn't take too much of the edge off... "Oh, all right." By the time the Wench had set the water temperature, Sharon was on her stomach on the table with a towel over her, surreptitiously pressing her mound against the table top. The Wench, however, dispensed with the towel immediately. "That's in the way; besides, we've seen one another." She rubbed Sharon's calves while eyeing the gap between her legs; Sharon's labia were pink, puffy, open, and wet. "So what is Master up to now?" "Well, first, he showed me pictures of Nate's poor mother; some guy nailed her breasts to a board, for God's sake! Unbelievable!" "Wow! No shit?" The Wench moved to Sharon's thighs. "There was a video, too -- awful stuff! Enemas from a garden hose..." Those hands were really too close... (They were, too -- the Wench could feel the heat coming from Sharon's center... ) "Why don't you work on my shoulders?" The Wench grunted and shrugged, but neatly scotched Sharon's escape attempted escape by the simple expedient of crawling up to kneel between her splayed thighs to do the shoulder work. "What else?" "Well he used a bottle brush on her, uh..." "Vagina?" "Yeah. And he had some gag he stuck in her mouth with a ring -- but he added some plugs and things, and the next thing you know, he's holding her nose and she passes out from being unable to breathe..." "Wow! Nasty!" "Well, the nails were the worst! He actually pulled one out and drove it in again!" "Ewwwww!" "After that, Armand kind of started his usual thing. I say 'kind of' because he was pretty weird about it..." Sharon shook her head. "He dragged me across his lap and got me out of my pants, and I figured I was in for a spanking, but it didn't happen. Instead, he made sure I was paying attention, then lectured me on my place in this household..." "Oh? Ummm, what is that, Mistress?" "Well, for one thing, I've been told that I'm not what Armand calls a 'free woman'. Armand insists I'm a slave. In fact, he claims I have been all along..." The Wench allowed herself a small smile, "You disagree?" "You're damned right!" Sharon railed, "Not that it matters..." "Master has some grounds..." "Yeah, yeah..." Sharon sighed. "Anyway, I'm apparently head slut, or chief slave, or some damned thing..." She relaxed a moment, absorbing the work on her shoulders and neck. "I'm to run the household, with Jason's backing. Armand didn't ask me, he told me. I'm to assume control of normal operations, freeing up Jason for... something..." "Probably to give him free time to devote to his new family," the Wench chuckled. "Yeah, maybe... Anyway, Jason is to introduce me around tomorrow. He'll still handle discipline. I understand that the Overseer still handles slaves..." "Oh, that's Sir," the Wench related. "He's a reasonable person alongside Jason. Besides, there's just me..." "Well, YOU are still assigned to ME, except when it conflicts with your 'primary duties'... You want to remind me what those are again?" "Entertaining guests, Mistress..." Sharon shook her head. "How? Do you juggle?" The Wench rolled her eyes. "I'm a slut, Mistress! Really, do I have to draw you a picture?" "Oh." Sharon mused a moment. "Do you have any limits?" "Well, I'm not supposed to get myself killed. Other than that..." "So, boys? Girls?" "Dogs and ponies, too, for all I know. Thus far, I haven't seen a lot of use, Mistress..." "No?" "No." Sharon felt the Wench's shrug in her ministrations to her upper back. "Master hasn't brought anyone in, except, you and Miss Nora..." "... Who is apparently the premiere 'free woman' in the house!" Sharon interjected. "She's still my daughter, though, and answerable as such. Go on..." "Sir, in training. The yard boys, also in training..." "Yard boys? Training?" "Boris the Gardener, Ed the Carpenter, and Nick and Phillippe... I practiced deep throating them on the back porch the other day." "All of them?" "Twice." "Impressive." "Yeah. I guess the only person I've actually seen in the line of duty was... you!" The Wench's laugh tinkled. "Hoooo, boy!" Sharon covered her face. "Wasn't that bad... So what else happened?" Sharon sighed. "Well, apparently MY video arrived today. I got to see it draped over Armand's lap, bare-assed... He kept playing with my ass, rubbing it... I was SURE he was gonna spank me... If you can get a cramp in your ass, I think I came close..." The Wench shifted down to Sharon's ass cheeks without instruction, grabbing handfuls and digging deep. "So, how was it?" "Embarrassing. Hot. Watching it leads you to the impression that I had a good time..." "Did you?" Sharon sighed. "When I wasn't scared to death. They... challenged me. At one point, I had a cock in my mouth, one in my ass and one in my... pussy..." "So, um, you watched the whole thing while Master played with your ass? Did he do anything else?" "No." The monosyllable was short and freighted with disappointment. "So THAT's why you looked so frustrated when you walked in..." "Yeah..." The Wench's thumbs were deep in the area of Sharon's crotch, causing her labia to move gently while her fingers dug into her ass cheeks. The movement had replaced her surreptitious grinding of her clit into the table top, and it sure felt good... The Wench gave it few moments, slowly shifting the focus of the massage from Sharon's ass cheeks to the digging of her thumbs in the hollows between her inner thighs, then climbed off the table. Sharon was just dealing with her disappointment at the ending of the edge-on attentions to her crotch when the Wench took more direct action, running three fingers along her labia and attacking her half-stiffened clit with the tip of the middle one. "Hey! Felicia!" she yelped, starting up. The Wench put her left hand in the center of Sharon's back before she got her hands under herself properly and she half-collapsed, going flat above the waist with her ass slightly elevated. "Oh, take it easy -- you KNOW you need it! Doesn't it feel better, having someone else do it?" Those fingers were going like mad, and Sharon's pussy was a swamp -- but her brain was still working. "Stop, now, Felicia -- it isn't right!" "There's nothing wrong with a little masturbation; besides, I've had my tongue in there! What's the big thing with a couple of fingers?" "I'm not..." Sharon was finding continued struggle to be hard to find the resistance for. "A lezzie? Neither am I. And a little finger diddling won't change that, either. How many times did those bruisers make you cum yesterday?" "Two... uhhh... maybe three..." Sharon's ass was slowly presenting itself of its own accord. "See? Relax, Mistress! This is my job! Let me do it!" The fingers were positively humming. The Wench kicked a small step-stool into place, mounted it, and shifted the grip of her left arm to pin Sharon by it wrapping around her wide hips. Sharon couldn't move any more. She couldn't think. Everything was focused on the dance of Felicia's fingers along her clit and her labia -- the sliding, rotating, buzzing contacts; the Wench kept shifting things, ensuring that everything was new every few seconds. Armand could have brought her to orgasm by touching her the right way, she'd been so aroused; she had no defense against THIS! Her ears were roaring, her face suffused with blood, and it was like the eyes of her mind were inside her vagina, looking out at the fingers flashing past the gaping opening while they teased the delicate nerves... "Okay, Mistress, I'm gonna add a little something; I want you to cum big, now..." The Wench released Sharon's hips, wet her left index finger, and just teased the rosette of Sharon's anus. "AAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" The top of Sharon's head came off! Every muscle in her body locked -- except those involved in creating the powerful pulsations in her vagina and ass! "HRRRRGH! HRRRGH! HRRRGH!" she grunted through clenched teeth, her head up, eyes wild as the Wench released the climax Armand had built in her. The peak lasted almost thirty seconds before Sharon collapsed on the table, relaxed except for the gentle pulsations at her center. "Damn," the Wench murmured, "I might have to give you another massage..." "No... no..." Sharon put out a hand, but she was as weak as a kitten; if the Wench had forced the issue, she couldn't have done anything. "Let's pop you in the bath, then," the Wench suggested, helping her climax-weakened Mistress up. "Lean on me..." Somehow, the pair made it to the tub. As Sharon slipped into the warm waters, she admonished, "I want you to promise me that you'll never do that again!" The Wench considered a moment, and shook her head, "No." "No?" "No. I promised Master that I'd see to your needs. Sorry, Master comes first." She changed the subject, "Want me to wash your back?" ------- Bianca, grinning, followed her mother through the door of Jason's suite of rooms, stopping when her mother did at Jason's warning glance. Inez gently laid her armload of things on a couch and in almost a single motion stepped out of her skirt, folding it and placing it on the floor by the door. While Bianca was still bemused, the blouse followed the skirt, then Inez recovered the load of clothing and headed for the bedroom. Jason stopped Bianca with a glance. "You needn't assist." "I volunteered." "Very well, then." Jason went back to whatever it was that he was doing. Bianca smiled and continued on her way. Inez had been puzzled at Bianca's reaction when she'd braced her with the move; Bianca had merely nodded and said, "I know." Even the fact that it was to be accomplished immediately hadn't fazed her. As Inez began carefully transferring her wardrobe to the closet bar, she murmured, "I can't understand how you can be so calm about all this..." "All what, Mama? Daddy? I'm not sure that's set in, yet, but he did his usual fine job of trying to make me feel guilty for not being unreasonable..." She shook her head. "Mister Jason? He's YOUR problem, not mine -- and frankly, if you look at things closely, you discover that he's not THAT big a problem. I think, underneath all of the surface uproar, you're happier than you've been in a long time..." "Bianca!" "Oh, come on! Mister Jason has been having you for years! And when you're not stupid enough to give him a reason to punish you, things are pretty good, aren't they? Admit it -- I sleep in the next bedroom, you know!" Her mother blushed crimson, and Bianca added, "Daddy never made you make those sounds..." "What about your having to answer to him?" Bianca shrugged. "It's a totally different class of thing to how YOU have to. Thus far, he's shown concern and not made any unreasonable demands." "Do you think that will continue?" "Yes. He has what he wants." Inez whirled on her daughter scandalized; Bianca returned the look, merely amused. "Well, maybe," Inez admitted. Bianca chuckled. "I wouldn't let HIM see that look on your face, but I think you're right to be pleased. In his own weird way, Mister Jason is a catch!" "Is he caught?" Inez wondered. "Yes," Bianca replied. "It's why he's so brutal with you on occasion; he doesn't want you exercising any visible control over him. You need to be careful about that, and remember who is boss, because he can make your life Hell -- and a good bit of it is BECAUSE you have your hooks in a soft spot..." Inez smiled fondly. "You think so?" "Oh, yes. It's SOOO obvious from the outside. But you need to take what he gives freely; if you use your hold on him to demand more, he'll turn on you and do whatever it takes to regain your fear and respect. You can live on what he gives you -- THAT is more than you were getting from Daddy, too!" The loads of hangers emplaced, Inez turned and padded through the main room, a serene expression on her face. Jason looked up and frowned as she passed. Bianca, watching, rolled her eyes; Mama could be SOO thick... When Inez got to the door and reached for her blouse, Jason growled, "That's taking too long; go nude." Inez looked up, crestfallen. "Yes, Master." She glanced left and right in the hallway, looking for sources of embarrassment, and stepped out. Bianca followed, shaking her head. "I warned you..." "What?" "You came through the room all self-satisfied. Mister Jason caught it, and nipped it. You need to concentrate on HIM and forget YOU!" "He made me come out her naked because... ?" "Because you were all caught up in how good things were. They're not supposed to be good unless he actively gives you some reward; otherwise, you're supposed to be busy trying not to get in the way of his iron fist. Give him what he wants, but don't make it look too easy. If you do that, it will BE easy!" "And he'll stop making me parade around naked?" Inez's half of the procession was moving furtively, watching for signs that she might be exposed to others at any given moment. "Outside like this..." "Why does he do it in his rooms?" "To keep you from getting too uppity, for one thing -- that's why we're here. But you miss the other reason -- because he likes it!" "But I'm old and fat..." Inez blustered. "You're beautiful to him, Mama. You should know that." "No. Impossible." Bianca stamped her foot. "Wake up, Mama! What YOU think you look like is irrelevant! It's what Mister Jason thinks that's important!" "Okay, okay! Let's get inside!" Inez zipped around the corner into their old rooms. Visibly relieved to be out of sight, she headed back to her old bedroom for the next load. "Master has said that you will be moved as soon as the construction is complete. In the meantime, will you be all right here?" "I'll be safe," Bianca insisted. "I always have. Besides, I'll get a little peace and quiet..." Examining the contents of the closet, she remarked, "There's not much left..." "You're right. I can take this. Thank you!" The quick kiss on the forehead and the tone of Inez's voice conveyed gratitude for more than just carrying a load of hangers... Bianca watched her mother load up and depart, smiling fondly. "Silly goose..." she murmured to herself as her mother disappeared... ------- Things had settled down at Mary's. Mary had given Teddy a blow job that blew his mind, and then taken on a revived Stick doggie style before the boys departed; it had been great, and Stick was too tired and satiated to be too concerned over further discoveries regarding his sexual orientation. Mary had a fine glow, too; Stick always did good work, and this time, fresh recovery from Teddy's ball-draining blowjob meant that he had the endurance required to bring her to a half-dozen climaxes while Teddy kissed her and mauled her breasts. It had been incredible, but it wasn't over when Stick gushed into her; instead, he motioned Teddy to replace him while he came around front to be licked clean. The fact that she was sloppy from Stick's spend was only a convenience when it came to taking Teddy's thick cock, and he quickly rode her to another mutual climax. Teddy was fairly quick, but Stick had already ridden her to the point of being a quivering mass of flesh; she couldn't have kept up with a long bout, anyway... Satiated, she collapsed into bed, considering herself a lucky girl... Teddy wheeled his car along Stick's street. Stick eyed him and murmured, "Look, Man, I don't know how we're gonna play this in public yet, but I want ya to know we're tight." "I know. We can do whatever. Maybe it's best to play things the way they really are, sort of. You're in charge. I'm your ride to Mary's, or whatever... Yeah! How's this? I do your errands -- personal boy, or whatever, in return for you letting me get an occasional piece from Mary." "Not too complimentary to either of ya." "Well, maybe, but it's close enough to the truth that it's easy to put over..." "Yeh." "I'll put it to Mary in the morning, and if she's okay with it, we'll run it that way for now." "Awright." Stick squeezed Teddy's leg. "I ain't ready to swap spit with ya, an' I dunno if I ever will be -- besides, this wouldn't be the place to do it. But we're tight, okay?" "Okay." "See ya tomorrow." Stick let himself out of the car. His first instinct was to glance around, but being furtive would cause others to think dangerous thoughts, so he went boldly up the steps to his family's apartment. Sticks twin younger brothers were roughhousing in the living room, while Pop lounged in his easy chair watching TV. "Where the fuck YOU been?" his father demanded. Stick's mother stuck her head out of the kitchen to get the answer, too. Stick was half-surprised; usually, he didn't get this kind of attention. "I went to see Nate's Mama in the hospital." "Where'd the car come from?" Stick frowned. Obviously, Pop hadn't left his chair, recently... A look around caught the twins sharing a knowing glance. "Ted. Friend of a friend." "You been seen in it a coupla times lately..." Pop prompted. "White boy, this Ted? What's up wit' that? Where's Nate?" "This ain't a good time to talk about it," Stick said carefully. Pop was all ready to come surging up out of his chair when he caught Stick's fixed attention on his younger brothers. "Huh," he grunted. Turning his attention on the twins, he rasped, "You two little shitheads, go wash up and get ready for bed! Git!" "Aww, Pop!" they chorused. Obviously, they were being uninvited from something interesting... Reluctantly, under the combined glares of their mother, father, and older brother, they backed out of the room. Mom finished wiping wet hands on her apron and settled her somewhat dowdy butt on the couch arm. Stick reflected distantly that maybe Mom's size was one reason Mary wasn't so bad... Mom wasn't absolutely huge, but she wasn't small, either. "Where you want me to start?" "You ain't been in jail; should I worry?" Pop grunted. "Nope. Been real good, actually." "Where's Nate?" "With his girlfriend, probably." "WHAT?" Mom's eyebrows almost disappeared into her grey hairline. "Nate's gotta girlfriend. Collected her ass at the Prom." "I ain't heard nuthin' 'bout that..." Mom was a call center for the rumor mill... "She ain't local. She's white." "Whoa!" Mom was floored. "No shit? That's..." "Unbelievable? You got THAT shit right! She's fuckin' rich, too!" "Watch your mouth, Boy!" Mom got out reflexively, but her mind was elsewhere. "This got anything to do with his Mama?" Pop asked. "Well, I figure Rodday is gonna get his ass kicked..." Stick replied. "It WAS Rodday, then?" "Nora's Dad thinks so. An' he ain't the kinda guy you fuck with..." "Stick! Dammit!" "Sorry, Mom." "Nora is... ?" "Nate's new girlfriend." "Awright, back to you -- and pasty little white boys!" Pop reined things in. "Where YOU been, if you ain't been with Nate?" "I, uh, gotta girlfriend, too." "What? Another white bitch?" Stick glared, but confined his response to one word, "Yeh." "How's THAT work?" "Her an' Nora are friends." Mom and Pop shared a glance. "Awright, where'd this Teddy come from?" Time to try out the new line, ready or not... "You ain't gonna like this..." he grunted, eyes on his mother. "Y'all go ahead, anyway." "Mary -- my girlfriend -- she'd been workin' on Ted for awhile, tryin' to nail him down -- but he's chicken, so even though he likes pussy, he was workin' hard to stay outta the trap. But she had him addicted, an' everything was goin' good until I came along..." Stick eyed Pop sidelong; if it flew, opinions of how good or bad it was would be split by sex... "Now, I got it sewed up, an' Ted has lost his supply; him bein' the way he is, there ain't nothin' else on the horizon..." Pop was starting to see it coming... "I need to get back an' forth, an' maybe a few other things. Ted ain't exactly a workout for Mary... I give him sloppy seconds every once in a while, an' I got a ride, a math tutor -- whatever..." Mom was aghast; Pop was trying to keep a straight face. "That's disgusting!" Mom erupted, and Pop echoed the sentiment, but the look on his face while he struggled to pretend disapproval was something that it took all of Stick's willpower to keep from laughing at. "Yes, Ma'am." Stick went for humble. "Is this girl just a slut?" Mom demanded. "No, but she does what I tell her. It ain't like Ted puts her to work; he's 'bout this long..." Stick measured out Teddy's penile length pretty accurately, without bothering to relate his girth. "STICK!" Mom's eyes almost departed her head. "Rose, go inta the kitchen; you done lost it, here..." Pop directed. Mom puffed up some, but it was true; she wasn't gonna say anything worthwhile in her current state. She went off muttering under her breath. Pop saw her out of sight, then chuckled. "By mornin' she'll have this turned around positive, but right now, she's lookin' at it from the female end. So, you're puttin' horns on this poor little fuck?" "Yeh. Mary gives him a little, an' it's icing on the cake for her -- but if she had to make do with him, it wouldn't be enough. So I got control, an' he's a convenience for us both." Pop chuckled. "Well, they're out there. You hear 'bout it, but generally you don' see it. What's the bitch look like?" "Pop!" Stick looked pained. "Well, she's heavy..." "No surprise..." "Kinda a redhead." "Doughy, then?" "Yeh." "Well, you'd hurt yourself on a scrawny bitch. How is it? I mean in general -- I figure the pussy is good..." "It's okay. Her momma don't approve, but her daddy figures if she's happy, other shit don't matter." "You usin' a rubber?" "She's on the Pill." "So she SAYS!" Pop grunted. "Besides, if she sleeps around, you can get bad shit." "That's not a problem. She's got the two of us an' Ted ain't dippin' nothin' else. She had to work hard to get him, let alone me, so it ain't like she's passin' it around; bein' heavy..." "Fat," Pop grunted, "Call a spade a spade. Girl's fat." "Awright, fat, then!" Stick glared. "She don't draw a line, okay?" "Awright awright... Good for you?" "Yeh. I'm havin' a ball. She's Nora's best friend, so we jus' kinda grew the old group." "What 'bout Draper?" "Him an' Tenisha linked up. Dunno where that's headed -- whether he'll drag her with him, or she'll drag him with her..." "Happens, son. Pussy does that. Don' hold it agin him if it goes the other way -- 'specially since you an' Nate got white chicks. Awright, get outta my sight. I wanta laugh about this while I pretend I'm watchin' TV. Stay away from your mother 'til she cools down an' decides how she's gonna blab it to her friends." The pair grinned at each other and Stick headed for the bathroom to wash up, hoping Pop didn't plan to stay up too late -- sleeping on the couch was a pain when the TV was going... ------- "Boss?" Flood, Rodday's chief lieutenant, stuck his head in his office door. "Yeah? Come in and close the door." The front room of the club that housed Rodday's business was noisy. "Shorty just staggered in, Boss. Two guys jumped him and took his DVD player right after he did a demo for Rosalee. He'd been out of it since about three o'clock -- they locked him in a dumpster..." "Did he know who it was?" "Coupla of white guys. Tough stuff, according to Shorty." Rodday looked skeptical. "Let's see him." Flood stuck his head out the door, "Go get Shorty." In a minute there was a knock, and Shorty came in, leaning on one of the bouncers. He looked like he'd had it tough, after all, showing a serious fat lip, a couple of cuts, and a pronounced limp. Rodday was impressed. "What happened?" "I was picking up after showing Rosalee the goods, and these two white stiffs come along, askin' questions -- wanted to know what the fuck I was doin'. Next thing I know, they're using me for a punching bag. I was out a while, an' when I come to, I was in a fuckin' dumpster. Fuckers had latched the lid..." "Any idea who they were?" "I smelled cop, but cops don't kick your ass like that. Well, not if they ain't into something..." Rodday rubbed his chin. "All right. Take him back and have one of the girls clean him up. By the way, did Rosalee come in?" "No, but she ain't workin', either. 'Bout half the girls decided to go on vacation..." Rodday shook his head. Well, it wouldn't hurt anything. With the independents off the street, traffic would shift to his girls. And when they came back after running out of money, they'd join the stable... "Flood, get a line on this..." "Okay, Boss." ------- Jacobson wheeled up outside the Waverley Oaks plant. "Okay, you all set?" "Si," Raoul nodded. "Okay, gimme your ID and take this stuff..." Jacobson handed Raoul a new wallet. "Why?" "If you get caught, you don't want the trail to track back to us, do you? Mr. Wilson wouldn't be thrilled. This stuff says you're a Staffordshire employee. Don't worry, we'll take care of you, should something happen. This is just insurance." Jacobson grinned. "Misdirection, you know?" "Oh, si." "As a matter of fact, if you can, drop the thing somewhere on the way out... Cool?" "Si, si, that makes sense..." "Okay, I'll be here. Take your time and don't do anything stupid." Raoul nodded and blended into the shadows. In seconds, he was over the fence, using Jacobson's layout to penetrate the perimeter. All was well... It took Raoul fifteen minutes to get to the offices where the system targeted was, but Raoul had the guard rotation, the alarms, everything -- except... The office door was alarmed and Raoul set it off. As he seated himself before the computer and began starting it, two guards left the guard station, headed for the office block. Raoul's afternoon of computer training got him through the substitution, and he cleared the office, but he picked up the guard movement in the hallway on the way out. Ducking around the corner, he held himself quiet, backed against the wall. Unfortunately, that wasn't enough; a guard came around the corner, picking him up instantly. Instinct took over and Raoul's throwing knife flashed -- but the guard was young, athletic, and alerted; he ducked right, and the knife which WOULD have taken him in the throat buried itself in his shoulder. And unfortunately for Raoul, the flinch and the impact of the guard against the wall shifted his aim from Raoul's shoulder to his chest... Jacobson sat outside in his car until the flashing lights came around the bend a half-mile away, then put his car into motion. The omission of the office alarm had been deliberate; Jacobson wanted Staffordshire implicated in the break-in, and Raoul off the street where he wouldn't be a threat to anyone. They had a mole at Waverley Oaks, and internal security was sniffing too closely; he wanted a nice, fat red herring to draw them off, if possible, and Raoul was a custom fit. He figured that in a few hours, he'd get a call from Raoul in jail, and with any luck, he could set up Raoul's bail and then invite him to return to Mexico, where he would be permanently out of the hair of employees of Wilson Enterprises. Yes, this was going well... ------- Chapter 27: A Death in the Family "Security guards at the Waverley Oaks Foods plant surprised a burglar last night. In the ensuing altercation, one guard was injured and the suspect was killed. Names have been withheld pending notification of the next of kin of the victim, and the police are following up leads as to the burglar's origins and the reasons for the break-in." "Oh, shit!" Jacobson put down his coffee cup. The idiot wasn't SUPPOSED to get himself KILLED! Now what? Sober thought said that with any luck, Raoul was clean, and there would be no repercussions -- IF the boss was properly in the know. He got on the phone. "Mr. Kemp?" "Jacobson?" Jason frowned. "Is this bad news?" "I sent Raoul out to hit the Waverley Oaks plant. He managed to get himself killed. How well covered is he?" "Fortunately, pretty well. Since he was a muscle specialist, we managed to scramble up his fingerprints with a black woman from Cleveland..." "Okay. He was carrying bogus Staffordshire I.D. I thought we'd use him to cover our Waverley mole, and then slide him back to back to Mexico -- but he apparently felt like going head to head with the security guards..." "Shit. I'm gonna have to explain this to his wife and daughter. Good thing they were planning a divorce... I'll let the Boss know." "Sorry." "No, seemed like a good plan. But I warned you he was an extremely blunt instrument. Business as usual, I guess. Let me know if this starts to come apart in any way." Jason rubbed his face. "Will do. We should be fine; he was not around anyone in-house. If he's covered, we're good to go." "He's covered." Jason hung up. Five minutes later, he was in Armand's office. "There is a problem. Raoul managed to get himself killed." "He WHAT? How?" "Jacobson sent him out to waltz through the Waverly Oaks plant to take the heat off of our mole, but he went nose to nose with security and got stupid." "This is incredibly embarrassing," Armand grunted. "Yes." Jason paused. "I, uh..." "I'll do it. Let's wait until Bianca returns home from school," Armand sighed. "You may have to take it a little easy on your woman for a couple of days..." "Yes..." Armand frowned. "She'll need structure. Don't back off too far -- you'll confuse her. Just don't get any too stupid." Jason nodded. ------- Nate had awakened next to Nora -- an amazing occurrence on the face of it. Breakfast had been weird; Nora's folks -- both of them -- had pretended that his being there was the most natural thing in the world... There'd been scads of food, dragged in by two or three people, but neither he nor Nora had been THAT hungry. When they got into Nate's car to go to school, Nate paused until he got out of the driveway, and murmured, "That was..." "Yeah." Nora had expected a screaming match with Mom and God knew what with Daddy -- but they apparently knew all about Nate's staying over and apparently really didn't care... A servant had come in to awaken them, and nobody even blinked when they showed up for breakfast. Nora was going to have to talk to somebody -- all that stuff? A bowl of cereal was fine... ------- At school, Mary, Stick and Teddy were on the front steps. Stick was apologetically relating having used the excuse Teddy suggested the night before. "Look, I know it ain't exactly complimentary to either of ya, but it worked..." Teddy shrugged. "I more or less suggested it; like I said, it's just close enough to be believable, and it takes advantage of the kind of crap that people will believe..." He eyed Mary sidelong. Mary pursed her lips. "So, basically, the tale is that I'm doing you both?" "Yeh." "Well, that's true..." "I guess the bad part is probably the idea that I'm tellin' you what to do..." Stick ventured. "Honey, you're doing THAT, too..." Mary tittered. "Oookayyy, I guess we're good, then..." Stick shrugged. Nate and Nora came up. Nora asked, "What's up?" "We're trying out a new tale," Mary replied. "Oh?" Nate blinked. "Why not -- fuck, never mind. What'd you come up with?" "Ummm, the gist of it?" Stick replied. "Ted's whipped, and I'm pimpin' Mary for favors." Nate scratched his head. "What keeps ya from pimpin' her to somebody else?" Stick hit this and bounced -- you could see it in his expression. But Mary answered. "Two reasons: It's a pre-existing relationship -- Stick's just allowing it to continue for his benefit. And Teddy's no threat." "Uhhh huh. Well, the good news is that it defines Stick's and Teddy's relationship," Nora offered. "I ain't thrilled 'cause it says things 'bout Ted an' Mary..." Stick grunted. "But I already tried it out at home, an' it worked." "You know, it also matches the way you guys called it goin' in," Nate added. "An' it gives you a reason to cover Teddy's ass -- 'cause he's your boy..." He paused a minute. "What about Draper?" "Draper deserves... the truth." Stick traced a crack in the sidewalk with his toe. "He can still shit-can you, Man. And he can fuck you for everybody else!" Nate pointed out. "He's my friend." "Awright. I'll help." Nate offered. "Why? You ain't happy..." "I got used to it." Nate stepped over to Teddy. "YOU make sure you keep this shit in the family!" He whirled his fingers to include Stick and Mary. "I hear about you offering to do what you do outside of Stick and Mary and I'll PERSONALLY arrange for fifteen guys to open up your asshole for business! Get me?" "O-okay!" Teddy stammered. "You hafta do that?" Stick grunted. "I was just making a point," Nate replied, nodding warily at Teddy. "Queer sex is fuckin' dangerous, and I don't want to lose friends." "I'm not..." Teddy protested. "It's over, Man. I'm cool if you're cool," Nate cut him off. Teddy nodded, subdued. Nora was going to call him down, but Nate turned away, obviously finished. "Okay. So. For public consumption, Teddy has a reason to be here. That's important. Makes things generally easier, too." Then he stopped and turned back to Teddy, "You're gonna get shit on, some; other dudes are gonna try to take advantage of ya. This'll give Stick an excuse to watch out for you, 'cause you don't owe nobody else shit -- but you're gonna be the bottom of the totem pole." Teddy shrugged. "I was never near the top." "Yeah, cool." Nate ruffled Teddy's hair. Everyone took it for the acceptance it was. "If Draper don't shit a brick, you're golden." Nora piped up, "There's one problem; if you tell Draper, you're telling Tenisha." "Oh." Stick looked mildly stricken; a secret that forty people knew wasn't a secret. "Gee, I dunno how bad that is." "Me either," Mary husked, sharing a glance with Nora, who shrugged. "Maybe we ought to feel her out, first?" "Awright. Can't take forever, though. Draper finds out from somebody other than me..." Stick shook his head. "Mary and I will find a way to feel her out and try to get it under control, okay?" Nora offered. "Got no choice," Stick grunted. "Go for it." Nora caught Mary's eye, "Third period." Mary nodded. The bell rang, and the five of them split up. ------- That morning, Armand took a report from Witherspoon about the Tabitha Adams incident. "My two operatives retrieved the video yesterday and made the copy you got. A quick interrogation of the bearer yielded the fact that the individual involved was employed by Pinkham, and that Pinkham commissioned the video and ordered the attack." "What do we know of Pinkham's alliances?" "We discussed Pinkham with representatives of the Scarpoletti family. He is unaligned; at best, they have mutual interests. He uses them as drug suppliers, but not as his sole supplier. Scarpoletti is uninterested in prostitution; compared to drugs, the costs of keeping hookers working and out of jail are excessive. Rodday can do what he likes in this area, per Scarpoletti; on the other hand, so can you... Scarpoletti got a look at the video and was pretty amazed, but he admires the technique. When we discussed the conflict of interest, Scarpoletti indicated that if we wanted to squabble over table manners, as he called it, he would stay out of it. We gave him to understand that it was a matter of proper respect for the property of others..." "Are there any other... issues?" "No. Scarpoletti would prefer that Rodday survive, and that there not be a lot of turmoil -- but his big dream of being king of the pimps is more trouble than it's worth in Scarpoletti's opinion. Scarpoletti says there are no other relevant alliances." "Thank you. I'm sure Ms. Adams won't be surprised... Anything on the actual agent?" "Scarpoletti's people say that the work is consistent with a contractor called Dumbjohn. They have no direct contact; apparently, he contacts pimps directly for employment. He's operated in several local cities; his gift is that he is a wolf in a fine set of sheep's clothing. Experienced hookers can usually smell a cop or anyone trying to set them up -- but this Dumbjohn just gives off vibes that say 'sucker'... He's done several such 'demonstrations' that local pimps then use to terrorize other hookers. Ms. Adams is apparently his most dramatic demonstration to date." "I see. Is he worth hunting?" "It would be difficult; he's apparently pretty smart and he has his natural camouflage..." "Well, he didn't kill her," Armand grunted. "Not even close, actually. Don't waste a lot of resources, but have someone keep an eye out for his work." "Yessir." "Is anyone watching the Adams' apartment?" "Nothing serious, since we're following him..." "I'm going to put a little heat on Pinkham," Armand mused, "He may suddenly decide to look for Nate. We might want to know if that happens..." "Good idea, Sir." "That's it, then -- except I need an independent investigation of what went on in KC." "Sir?" "Sorry. We lost Raoul during what was supposed to be a diversion at Waverley. I need a second look -- if Jacobson needs replacement, I need to know it." "Will do, Sir. I'll activate the local team." "That's it." Armand hung up, and turned to Jason. "What did you tell Jacobson of Raoul's capabilities?" Jason frowned. "I told him that Raoul was a very blunt instrument, and that he required supervision. The mission was a fairly straightforward burglary to take the heat off of our mole at Waverley; Jacobson sent him in solo, I think. Raoul was carrying Staffordshire I.D., in case he got caught. What happened isn't clear yet." "Clarify. Debrief Jacobson fully. We have explanations to make." "Sir." Jason glared at the floor a moment. "I despised the man, but I did NOT set him up." Armand eyed him a moment, then nodded, satisfied. "All right. See what happened. We may want details from Witherspoon's people to keep Jacobson's exposure down, but I want to know what Jacobson was up to." "Sir." "Do we have a line into Pinkham's?" "Yes." "Call him at eleven or so and request a lunch meeting at, say, Andrea's, for twelve-thirty or so tomorrow." "Sir." Jason moved out, dismissed. The way things were going, having Sharon take over the household would be a blessing... Sharon was in her sitting room, going over paperwork. Obviously, she was going to need a desk... The employment records that Jason had dropped off after breakfast read more like dossiers -- everybody seemed to have a skeleton in their closet, and some of them were doozies! Apparently, however, Raoul had been the most anti-social of the staff, with the probable exception of Jason himself, whose file wasn't here... Well, with any luck, Jason would be able to keep the tentative one o'clock meeting, and she could attach names to faces. Funny, it never occurred to either her or Jason that she might not accept the responsibilities Armand had thrust upon her... ------- "Tenisha? Got a second?" Nora accosted the black girl outside their shared third-period class. "Sure." Nonetheless, she was obviously wary. "It's about the guys." Nora directed Tenisha over to an area where the tide of moving students ebbed, where Mary joined them. "What's up?" Tenisha asked. "Well, we've kind of deconstructed the little group that Nate, Draper, and Stick had going. I kind of wondered how you felt about that." Tenisha felt her way around the question. Was there a bomb inside, somewhere? "Well, they were always getting in trouble, so from that viewpoint, I'm kinda glad Draper's out of it. But they're his friends... Besides, you two seem to have them under control..." "Yeah, well, I was thinking that the fact that we don't all run together might be an issue..." "Oh." Historically, Tenisha hadn't had much in common with the other two -- but then her small circle of girlfriends wasn't exclusionist... "Well, I pretty well know where you're coming from..." Due to the strange things going on Prom Night, Nora had actually lost her cherry to Nate at Tenisha's, and Tenisha was pretty clear as to her motivations. She swung her attention to Mary, "But I don't know a lot about how Mary and Stick are doing -- and there's the Little Teddy Frick thing..." She eyed Mary suspiciously. "You aren't coming off too well, there -- lotta loose talk." Mary sighed. "It'll probably get worse. It's kind of why we're here." "Yeah?" "Yeah. Look, the situation is... kind of unique. There's stuff about it that it'd be better if most people didn't know. But Stick wants Draper to know, and that means that you should, too. Can we talk at lunch?" Tenisha thought fast. "Okay. Northwest corner? I'll push off my usual group..." "Great!" Mary smiled encouragingly. "See you there!" Mary moved off, but Tenisha snagged Nora. "There's more to this than just a little talk..." "Yeah. Look, this is a serious thing, involving Stick's reputation. Mary's going to give you a gun and hope you don't point it at her head, for Stick's sake, and for Draper's. You should know that Mary is putting Stick's welfare first, here." "Okay," Tenisha nodded thoughtfully. "I'm takin' your word for it. See you there." ------- "Boss?" Flood stuck his head out into the club. "Phone." Rodday took in the odd look as he got up. "Trouble?" "Dunno." Rodday strode into the office and took the phone, "Rodday." "Mr. Pinkham? Charlene, Armand Wilson's secretary. Mr. Wilson would like to know if you're free to have lunch with him tomorrow?" Rodday, taken flat-footed, dithered. "I'll need to check my schedule. Where? When, exactly?" "Do you know Andrea's? We were thinking twelve-thirty," Charlene replied. "I'll... have to get back to you. My assistant isn't here..." "Certainly, Sir. When should I be able to get a reply?" "Uh, an hour or so, I think," Rodday temporized. "That'll be fine, Sir. I'll call back then." Rodday eyed Flood. "Why would Armand Wilson want to see me?" Flood frowned. "Dunno, Boss." "Send somebody to check out Andrea's. I need to know if it's safe." "Okay, Boss." Flood started off, then stopped dead at the office door, "What about Whatshername? Tabitha?" Rodday thought about it. "Nah. Can't be. You DID check, didn't you?" "I asked around a bit, Boss -- but I didn't go nuts. It seemed like pure bullshit to me..." Actually, Flood's entire investigation had lasted about ninety seconds. "It's odd -- but I can't think of anything else. See if you can find her kid. We need answers." "Okay, Boss." ------- Tenisha was where she said she'd be -- the northwest corner of the cafeteria. She leaned back against the wall as Nora and Mary seated themselves. "Okay, so, what is it?" "Let's talk about you and Mary. Are there any problems there?" Nora asked. "Nothin' much negative," Tenisha replied warily, "but nothin' much positive, either." She addressed Mary. "I kinda like the way you think, sometimes -- you're pretty funny. Dating Stick is, well, kind of a mixed thing, I guess. I mean, you're not..." "Black?" Mary interjected. "Yeah. And there's Teddy. You come off as kind of a..." "Slut?" Mary sighed. "Well, I'm aware of that, and if I get my way, it probably won't change..." "Huh? Why? What do you get out of THAT? Is it true?" "Well, I guess it depends on your point of view," Mary shrugged. "From mine, I'm in a committed relationship with two boys. And no, it doesn't benefit me -- but it benefits Stick." "I don't get it." "Well, this is where we are," Nora interjected. "Mary wants to -- needs to -- tell you, because Stick wants to tell Draper. But either one of you can take this info and hurt Stick bad with it -- and Mary and Teddy into the bargain..." "Sounds secret." Tenisha watched the other two nod. "Maybe I shouldn't know." Mary looked at the floor. "You'll no doubt hear it from Draper. We're just -- I don't know WHAT we hope to accomplish. Basically, I'm going out on a limb, hoping you don't feel like running a chainsaw." "You want me to promise to keep whatever this is to myself, right?" "Uh huh. And we want to know if you can hang with the group in the face of the cover story." "What's the cover story?" "Um, in a nutshell, it's like this: Teddy and I were fucking, because I was trying to rope him in. Stick came in and displaced Teddy, and now he's running things, as far as I'm concerned. But Teddy wheedled him into having me supply him an occasional fuck for services rendered." "Like what?" "Car rides, tutoring, general scut work... Whatever comes to mind." "Huh! That's pretty sordid... That's the cover story? What the fuck is it covering? What's worse?" Nora and Mary shared a look. "We need that promise, now." "Okay, you got it. This has got to be heavy..." Mary sighed heavily. "The actual relationship is a good deal more equal, although the pecking order is about right. But it ignores an additional dimension... Stick and Teddy have a relationship, too -- one that I'm not strictly a part of." Tenisha frowned, trying to wrap her mind around the concept. "Stick and Teddy are..." "Fucking. Well, Stick is fucking Teddy, not vice-versa..." Mary cut to the chase. "Whoa!" Tenisha sat there, dazed. "You mean they're..." "What?" Mary, stressed, began to show irritation. "Gay? Queer?" "Noooo..." Mary controlled herself. "If they were, neither of them would be fucking ME! And they're BOTH doing THAT! The proper term is 'bisexual'..." "Okay, okay." Tenisha glanced at Nora. "Nate knows?" Nora sighed. "Yeah, he had a fit -- but the three of them have something different going on here, and he's come around." "Different?" "Uh huh. It's a real, three-corner relationship. Each of them gets things they want and need from the other two. It's not equal, but it's apparently stable..." Nora paused, "unless Stick takes a lot of loose heat for being gay!" Mary nodded. "Teddy wouldn't catch much flack for being gay -- except he isn't -- and I can handle being called a slut, if that's what it takes. But Stick is looking at taking a lot of shit..." Tenisha nodded. Tolerance for gays wasn't big in the 'hood. The official position was that being gay was a white boy's problem, and anything that contradicted that was... inconvenient... and would be a source of trouble. Similarly, 'bisexual' wouldn't play; you were straight, or you were fucked up -- no middle ground. The fact that a fair population had spent time in various jails and had participated in gay sex, willingly or unwillingly, only seemed to intensify the denial. "Okay. How did this happen?" "Basically?" Mary replied, "Basically, Teddy got to him first. Teddy apparently gives a helluva blowjob..." "What'd he do? Walk up to him and offer to blow him?" Tenisha shook her head. "No, it was more anonymous than that. Ever hear of a glory hole?" "No." "Happens a lot in bathrooms, or peep booths at dirty book stores. Basically, there's a hole in the wall; after some kind of signal, a guy sticks his dick in the hole, and whoever is on the other side blows him. Doesn't HAVE to be a guy -- and it doesn't HAVE to be a blowjob -- but that's the general thing..." "Then how did Stick... ?" "It's a long story, and I had both hands in it," Mary sighed, "but this is STILL a little public. Later, okay?" "Okay," Tenisha pouted. "I get it, sorta." "Is Draper gonna throw a fit?" Mary asked. "Well, probably. I still don't REALLY understand..." Tenisha shook her head. "I dunno if I could ever make it really, really clear," Mary replied. "It just sorta happened. I got in after the first round, but I probably could have killed it -- but if I had, probably none of us would be sleeping together, so in the long run..." "Well, Draper is pretty level-headed; he'll probably pull out. I guess the other question is whether I can hang out with you guys, given the rep Mary's gonna collect from this -- right?" "Right," Nora confirmed. "I can do it -- but you've got to tell all!" Mary chuckled, "I figure I can do that..." ------- The whole staff was gathered in the formal living room of the mansion. "It is Mr. Wilson's wish that much of the responsibility for day- to-day operations be passed from myself to Sharon, here. For those few of you who might be unaware, Sharon is Mr. Wilson's ex-wife and the mother of his daughter, Nora. This makes her more that qualified to anticipate Mr. Wilson's requirements..." Jason paused and collected everyone's eyes. "Sharon is not assuming this position as Mr. Wilson's spouse, however. While she will be Mistress of this house, her relationship to Mr. Wilson will more closely resemble that of several others in this room. Mr. Wilson has not yet decided whether he will resume attracting and interviewing prospective mates; until and unless he does, it will be business as usual from the perspective of Mr. Wilson's physical needs for those of you who have catered to them before..." Sharon sighed. "No doubt I will appear on the roster. Several of you know this -- I recognize a couple of faces -- our physical relationship didn't end with the marriage. Now that I'm here, I expect that it'll be just that much easier for him..." "I will continue to be available to support and assist Sharon; for the moment, I suggest that we continue with business as usual. You will brief her on any standard policies and procedures that apply to you, and get her input on new situations," Jason instructed. "Um, speaking of which... Who handles breakfast?" Sharon asked. "Ah do." Velma raised her hand. "The layout is incredible, and I wouldn't think of interfering with Armand's input -- but I know Nora, and she was overwhelmed. A little cold cereal, some juice, and coffee -- or one of those bottled latte things -- is fine on a weekday." Velma wrinkled her nose. "She need hot stuff." "Well, I agree, but we're going to have to bring her along slowly. A toasted bagel, maybe, and fruit for the cereal, to start? Let's talk about it..." "... Which brings me to another issue," Jason interjected. "Miss Wilson is Mistress here, not her mother. While Sharon is to be deferred to due to her position, she is staff; Nora is to be dealt with as Mr. Wilson's daughter. There is a subtle difference there; I expect you all to understand it and work within the restrictions involved." Leticia asked, "What about Miss Wilson's guests?" Jason stared her down. "Miss Wilson's guests are MISTER Wilson's guests, unless he indicates otherwise. In the case of Mr. Adams, this is clearly the case, as not only does Mr. Adams have an ongoing relationship with Miss Wilson, but he may be in physical danger. His mother is currently hospitalized, and we plan to ensure that Nate does not join her." He glared at Leticia for a moment. "If Miss Wilson's choice in companions offends you due to your spurious commitment to the idea of racial purity, TOUGH! Mr. Wilson has spoken clearly in this matter." Jason generalized his focus. "The preceding being said, Sharon nonetheless holds a preeminent position in this household; the only people for whom she is not directly in the chain of command are myself and Charles, and we are charged to cooperate with her wherever possible. The Wench will continue to be assigned to Sharon whenever it does not interfere with her primary duties or her training for same." He fixed Charles with a glance, "That's direct from Mr. Wilson." Charles nodded. Sharon shifted her attention to Charles, "Let's talk about that -- I don't want to interfere with her training." Charles nodded again. Sharon addressed the group, "I'll be chasing you each down individually in the next few days; in the meantime, if something needs to come to my attention, feel free to chase ME down. For now, if Jason wants to know about it, I do, too -- and until I get my feet on the ground, things may not be limited to that. Everybody understand? Let's go to work." As certain male members of the mass exodus headed back to the south wing, Phillippe murmured, "So, that's the little woman..." Ed felt like he had to say something. "Yeah, well, don't brush her off -- she's tougher than she looks. She's been putting up with the Boss for a long time..." "Big ass on her..." "Big talk about how she isn't the Boss's main squeeze to the contrary, you put your hand on that without permission and the Boss will probably cut it off and put you outside the gate to bleed out. You better get your head in the right place, Man." "I agree," Boris rumbled. "I would be very careful around her, if for no other reason than the fact that Jason will continue to enforce discipline." "For all I know, the Boss might stake her out next to the Wench next week as entertainment for a barbeque -- but until he does, I'm keeping MY hands -- AND my MOUTH -- to myself..." Ed added. ------- "What was that with Leticia?" Sharon asked. Jason grimaced. "She has a thing about black men and white women. But, of course, it's okay for her to chase white guys... That's how she got here..." "I know. I recognized her, and Consuelo, too, for that matter." "I don't think Armand has had Leticia for a while," Jason showed his teeth, "She's getting bitchy..." Sharon tittered. "I don't suppose that Armand just has sex with any of the staff..." "If he does, it's not often..." Jason showed his teeth again in his characteristic rictus. "I seem to remember that she hates enemas, in particular... Maybe we should have young Mr. Adams administer it?" "Let's not despoil Nate without Nora's approval," Sharon replied. "Perhaps yourself, then? Get a feel for how the other half lives? It'd make a fine object lesson..." "I, uh..." Sharon sputtered. "I don't know if I'm ready for that, yet." "Think about it," Jason replied. "Leticia needs to be put in her place. If you were to fill her full of water and make her hold it until she tongued you to orgasm, for instance, it would be a powerful lesson, not only for her, but for the others." "Oh, my..." Sharon didn't want to look closely at the mix of emotions THAT idea brought her. "I dunno..." " 'Best t'were done quickly'," Jason quoted. "I don't think I could..." Jason stared her down. "I think you could." He turned away. "Will there be anything else? I need to make a phone call." "No, I don't think so." "I may sequester Inez for a couple of days. Her estranged husband has been killed accidentally, on a company project. It's pretty embarrassing to me and to Armand as it could easily look like one of us ordered it." Jason shook his head. "Stupid bastard." "Want to talk about it?" Sharon had to deal with the man, daily. Might as well develop a relationship... "Okay," Jason nodded, thinking basically the same thing. "Do you know the background?" A few minutes later, they were sitting in Jason's office. "... So Armand sent him to Jacobson in KC. Jacobson apparently saw him as a new face, and decided to use him in a covert op -- but Raoul, being the ass that he was, escalated a run-in with a security guard... Armand wants me to grill Jacobson a bit -- I could use a witness, if you know what I mean..." "I can see that," Sharon replied. "There is a serious conflict of interest, here..." She waved assent. Jason dialed and put the phone on speaker. "Jacobson," the speaker announced. "Jacobson, it's Kemp." "Yessir." "What have you found out?" "I can't get any too close. Apparently, he had a run-in with an armed, alert security guard." "I need to understand why you sent him in solo -- I TOLD you he was an arrogant fool..." Jacobson sighed. "Okay, okay, maybe I got too smart for my own good. I knew the guy was in trouble with you guys in the HQ, but he knew too much to just cut loose. I needed a warm body to do this break-in to take the heat off our mole. I figured if he got caught, we could bail him and send him home to Mexico where he couldn't hurt anybody -- so I left an alarm circuit out of the briefing. I didn't think he'd get stupid and try to kill people..." "Anything else I need to know?" Jason asked. "Nooo, I think we covered most of it before. He had a fake distribution schedule with him and Staffordshire ID. I don't know whether he put the schedule in place or not..." "How was he supposed to post the schedule?" "It was on a file on a floppy. We spent half the afternoon practicing firing up a machine and overwriting a file," Jacobson replied. "If he got it into place, he'd have probably dropped the floppy in a trash can somewhere. He was also supposed to dump the ID somewhere, too -- somewhere visible, if possible." "Okay." Jason looked at Sharon, who shrugged. What did she know about criminal break-ins? "I guess that's it, then. Keep your head down, and we'll see what else comes in." "Okay." They hung up. Jason sighed. "We have some investigators looking at this from the outside, but this was Jacobson's game -- neither Armand nor I was aware of it. Jacobson is relatively autonomous." "I didn't know you were doing burglaries!" Sharon exclaimed. "Compared to what happened to you a couple of days ago, this should have been peanuts," Jason replied. "There is a little bit of industrial espionage out there -- not a lot, just enough for everyone to keep their hand in. At base, this would have been a classic operation -- mess something up, as invisibly as possible, point the finger at someone else, and leave. Jacobson added a bit to it, but had it worked, it would have solved a problem that Raoul presented; we really wouldn't want to let him go and have him going to a competitor to exact his vengeance, and, frankly, Raoul was petty that way." "Dead men tell no tales..." "Well, yeah, but I don't think Jacobson planned it that way. Worst case, Raoul would sit in jail for a while. We'd have made it worth his while. Jacobson's idea was even better; we could have bailed him out and then sent him back to Mexico with a nice fat severance check. With a warrant out for his arrest, Raoul wouldn't return..." "But it didn't quite work." "No." Jason sighed. "And I have to tell Inez and Bianca what happened, which will make me look guilty, because it's so damned convenient..." "You care what they think?" Jason opened his mouth, shut it, pondered a moment. "Yeah. I feel bad enough. I hated Raoul's guts, but I don't want Inez or Bianca thinking that of me..." Sharon was more than mildly surprised. In her experience, Jason was positively brutal. "Why?" Jason glared at her. "There are things I WON'T admit to..." "... Like the fact that he loves his chubby little Chicana slave..." came a rumble from the door. Armand stood there, grinning. Jason said nothing, but if looks could kill... Sharon jumped. "Armand, don't make things any worse!" "Hmmmm. Guess you're right. I guess you're privy to what went down, then?" Sharon nodded. "It might help if you were present when we tell the women, then." Armand turned to Jason. "I got a report on the specifics from Witherspoon's people; Raoul alerted security in some manner..." "There was an alarm he wasn't briefed on..." Jason interjected. "... And he tried to take out an armed guard with a throwing knife. The guard's statement says he was shooting to wound, but he flinched while ducking the knife." "Raoul missed?" Jason asked, surprised. "No, the guard apparently ducked and took the knife in the shoulder. Undoubtedly, had the guard been less alert, Raoul would have succeeded. And THAT would have been an even WORSE mess, if possible..." Armand shook his head. Sharon shuddered. "I don't ever want to be a party to this type of thing," she asserted. Armand nodded. "That's fine; it's very limited. This went some distance too far." ------- The younger set slowly coalesced in the parking lot after school. Draper found Tenisha with everyone else, and tried to decide why that was mildly surprising. "Hey, whazzup?" "Hey," Nate returned. There were a lot of nods, but there was dead silence. "Awright, sumpthin's up. Give!" Draper grunted. He glanced pointedly at Teddy. "Or do I need to wait?" "Nope," Stick sighed. "Teddy's in to stay. In fact, that's a lot of it." Draper got wary, "Oh?" "Yeh." Stick was having problems getting beyond that point, so Mary started up, "Teddy's a permanent feature. It's kind of a package deal." Draper's eyes shuttered. "Don' hafta be..." "Yeh, it does, Man," Stick got out. Draper took in various faces, even Tenisha's. What the fuck? "If Mary's gotta have two dicks..." "Mary don't enter into it..." Stick was angry, anyway. Draper glared back. "Does she, or don't she?" "Okay, she does, but that ain't the problem!" Stick rasped. "Easy! Shit, lighten up!" Nate stepped in to calm things, a new role for him. "Teddy is in, Man. The rest of us have bought into the reason, one way or another, but Stick's havin' a hard time with it..." "Howcum?" " 'Cause it's gonna cost him." Draper started adding up the facts. Stick wanted Teddy around, and Mary was and wasn't part of it... "So, you fuckin' the little shit?" "Yeh." "Jeezus!" Draper was taken aback. "An' Mary?" "Both a' us are doin' her. We like it that way. ALL of us." Stick was glaring, but Draper knew he wasn't angry. Stick was scared, and covering it. And the only reason he'd be scared... "Awright. Who knows?" "This'd be everybody." "So I made the cut?" "You're my frien'." Stick's expression asked the question, 'Are you gonna shit on me?' "You tellin' the world?" Draper asked. "I hope ta fuck not," Stick replied. "I'm workin' on a tale..." "Goes like this," Mary interjected. "I've been pulling Teddy in with pussy for a long time, but Stick now owns it. Teddy's willing to pay for sloppy seconds by doing whatever Stick wants..." "So you gotta sex slave?" Draper grinned. "People will believe that..." Stick shrugged, "Pop did..." "Kinda fucks Mary -- an' Teddy, too," Draper observed. "We can take it," Teddy asserted. "I don't get it, but, hey..." Draper shrugged. "We're all kinda surprised -- but what we got goin' works," Stick shrugged back. Draper looked around. "So, this is it?" "Yeh," Nate agreed. "This is it." Draper eyed Tenisha, who nodded. "Cool. What's up tonight?" "I gotta go home an' get some clean underwear. Ain't been home since Sunday night," Nate asserted. "Gonna go see your Mama?" "Yeh. Probably first; she might want somethin'." "Awright. I wanna go, too. 'Nisha?" Tenisha nodded. "You guys goin'?" Draper was careful to be inclusive of Mary and Teddy. "Yeh. Teddy's drivin'. One of my bennies..." Stick produced a malicious grin. Teddy blushed, but Stick ruffled his hair and Mary squeezed his hand. "Les go, then..." Draper collected Tenisha and headed for his car. Once they were moving, he turned to his girlfriend, "So, how long you been in on it?" "Since lunch. The girls were afraid I'd refuse to hang with Mary because of the cover story -- and maybe even if I knew the truth. But they felt like they had to risk it, 'cause Stick felt like he HAD to tell you..." "I'm not awful surprised, really," Draper chuckled. "Stick was always kinda out there where stickin' his dick in sumpthin' was concerned. Coupla years ago, he got one of those 'pocket pussies' an' wore it out..." He shook his head. "Nate gets squicked real easy over dudes doin' dudes -- but Stick always jus' kinda went along for the ride..." He shot Tenisha a glance, "How much the girls tell ya?" "Not much -- yet. But I made 'em promise to give up the details. I'm... nosy. The whole thing makes me kind of horny..." Tenisha looked mildly embarrassed. Draper grinned and ruffled her hair with a big paw. "EVERYTHING makes you horny! I ain't complainin' though..." ------- Dwayne took a shot in the chops as a passed ball caught him napping. "Oww! Shit!" "Pay some fucking attention to the game, fuckhead!" Ted ranted, "What the fuck?" A glance at the bleachers and he answered his own question. "Darla Jean again? Maybe the air IS cleaner at the top of the bleachers!" Rob snickered, and Dwayne reddened, "Shit!" He sneaked another look, embarrassed. Darla Jean was looking back -- and her blouse was tied off midriff, too. "She's teasing me!" "You're dreaming, Man! Fucking dreaming!" Ted jeered. "Besides, she's a fucking librarian..." Rob was going to add to Dwayne's embarrassment, but Mary Eikenberry came through the gym door at that moment. Looking around, she caught sight of Darla Jean and climbed up to join her. "What are YOU doing HERE?" she asked. Darla Jean eyed Mary while she thought about a response. Mary was on the 'A' list, usually -- but since the Prom, there had been persistent rumors about how she'd lured Rob away from Claudette... "I've taken up jock-watching." "Not Rob, I hope..." "No. I wouldn't poach -- even if I thought it was possible." The underground said that Bang Nation was in an uproar because Rob wouldn't give them the time of day... "I hear that Claudette is giving you a hard time..." "She deserved what she got," Mary replied. "They were done before I came in to sweep up; Dina Nellis and Twyla Banks put the skids under her at the Prom. She's all show and no go -- you just don't keep a boy that way..." She shrugged, "At least, not one worth a damn..." Darla Jean shrugged. "I'm still trying to acquire a basis for comparison..." Mary blinked. Did that comment mean what she THOUGHT it meant? "Who are you looking at?" "Dwayne. Ted has nice buns, but I get bad vibes." "You're probably right," Mary chuckled. "Dwayne's probably a nice, middle of the road choice..." "No better than that?" Darla Jean wondered. "I got an underground rumor or two... He's okay, I guess -- a little undervalued right now, but with Rob out of circulation, that'll improve..." "Undervalued?" "He ought to have a girlfriend -- but Rob was tying up all of the hopefuls. Now, maybe they'll spread out. I agree with you about Ted; he's trouble..." She paused. "Dwayne's okay, but he's not smart enough to keep you -- and I don't think he's good enough in the sack, either..." "Really?" "Really. Come on, what's going on..." Mary nudged Darla Jean gently. "Okay," Darla Jean admitted. "Like I said, I'm looking to discover a baseline. I, uh, made the move last weekend. It was incredible -- he rocked my world -- but I don't know whether it was him, or just that I had a lot pent up..." "Um, well, I know how you feel," Mary murmured. "Rob sure lit MY fuse the first time -- but then, he lit it the second time, too... I have it unofficially that Dwayne has a couple of notches on his gun belt, but that he isn't King Kong or anything..." "Oh?" "Yeah." Mary made a wry face. "One of my old girlfriends is on the cheerleading squad. On a sleepover a while back, she let it slip that she got too blitzed to care at an after-game party and pulled a train for the team. Dwayne wasn't memorable." "Damn!" "It STILL won't hurt anything..." Mary counseled. "Sex isn't EVERYTHING -- although I'm beginning to wonder if it isn't in first place..." She shook her head. "If you want to sample 'average', Dwayne's probably your man. Rumor has it that Ted is better, but he's a real predator; you don't want HIS teeth in you..." "I'll bear that in mind..." The two set to watching their selected boys and giggling; Darla Jean had never exchanged this many words with Mary, but she was doing a lot of new things -- and Mary was missing female company, due to her recent snubbing. "If you're gonna become a femme fatale, we're gonna have to work on your wardrobe and makeup," Mary observed, "although tying your blouse up like that is a good start..." "Well, I'd been practicing hiding everything, so I'll have to re- learn..." "Well, a lot of it is attitude," Mary simpered, "and you've picked up THAT..." "There is a lot of false advertising out there," Darla Jean opined. "How do boys know the difference?" "They don't, thank God!" Mary laughed. "They have to learn the hard way. You and I can probably pick up a faker on sight, but boys? They have to take a run at it..." The two gabbed until the desultory basketball practice ended, then Darla Jean moved on while Mary hung out waiting for Rob. The guys spent a lot of time ribbing Dwayne. "Hey, why don't you stick your pecker out of your shorts and let IT watch for the ball?" Ted chided. "Aw, well, Darla Jean is fucking with my head!" Dwayne rasped. "What do you make of her and Mary just having a ball up there?" he asked Rob. "Dunno. Maybe Darla Jean's getting pointers on how to trap you for one of her science experiments?" Rob chuckled. "Yeah, well, maybe Mary was looking for pointers on how to pack YOU in formaldehyde!" Dwayne retorted. Everyone in earshot laughed, as had been going on generally, but Rob returned soberly, "Mary has all the tools she needs..." Things quieted down; watching Rob take himself out of circulation had others thinking. Ted broke the silence with, "So, when are you gonna hit on Darla Jean, there, Romeo?" "Uh, gee, dunno." Dwayne was suddenly nervous. "Thought I'd give her more time to make it clear what she's up to..." "Darla Jean probably won't GET any clearer without direct action, Man. You better test the water -- quick -- before some nerd smells pussy juice and fumbles up to her..." "Huh! I gotta worry about that?" Dwayne grinned. "You do if you're not gonna show her anything!" Ted retorted. "She'll get bored and move on to somebody less dense!" He paused. "Now that I think about it, I wouldn't set my sights on keeping her for a steady piece, Man. Darla Jean don't have a lot of patience for ordinary folk... You better plan on using the four 'F's..." "Huh?" "You know, how Rob handles Bang Nation! Find 'em, feel 'em, fuck 'em, and forget 'em!" That got its usual laugh from the spectators. Dwayne shook his head. "If I go in thinkin' THAT she'll smell it and be gone for sure!" "Then don't," Rob counseled. "I don't, whatever TED thinks. I've been interviewing Bang Nation; if one of them had worked out, I'd have put Claudette out to pasture -- but none of them could offer the total package. Go in with an open mind, and take what is offered. You'll both know if there is more to be had, and whether you can handle it. Ted's problem is that he wants to be the playboy of the western world, and he goes in acting that way. Most chicks don't want to be just spread, squirted on and left with their panties down. I don't even do THAT to Bang Nation girls. Most of 'em know that it isn't going to happen when we're done the first time -- they can sense it. And part of the reason is the Bang Nation approach. Mary... Mary didn't make the Bang Nation approach, but she wasn't playing Claudette's game, either. And she's got what it takes..." "So what're you saying?" Dwayne asked. "Go in prepared to see what happens. I tend to agree with Ted; Darla Jean won't hang around long. But you never know, so go for the gusto. Let HER call it -- your name will still get out if you treat her halfway decent..." "Ahhh, fuck with her head, Man! Let her know what she's gettin'! She'll come around! She's lookin' for that display boyfriend -- make HER a trophy on YOUR wall FIRST!" Ted argued. Rob shook his head. Dwayne looked from one to the other and nodded, carefully NOT showing whose advice he was listening to -- but Rob had two things going for him -- well, one, actually. Experience. Ted had laid his hands on very little more pussy than Dwayne -- even if you believed the tales he told about Amy Kelleher (which Dwayne didn't). Rob had hot and cold running pussy, and if some of them were kinda tearful afterwards, there wasn't a lot of finger pointing. Ted had a couple of serious female enemies, and a couple of guys who were pissed about having to pick up the pieces of some chick to make a girlfriend out of her. The evidence said Ted didn't know jack shit... Darla Jean went home humming. Getting an appointment at her mother's gynecologist had proven remarkably easy; their medical plan didn't require a consultation for what was essentially preventative medicine. In a few days, she'd be ready for Dwayne... If things broke before that, she'd try HARD to do the rubber thing. In the meantime, Mother wasn't likely to be any too concerned about the noises she made while masturbating -- not any more, anyway... ------- Bianca came in from school to find Jason occupying the sitting room of their apartments -- which was odd, considering the fact that he'd basically announced that he never wanted to come there again... Mama's stuff was moved out already, too... But Jason merely nodded at her, got up and left immediately, offering no explanation. Bianca went to her room to change clothes, and was in mid-change from her school uniform to shorts and a halter when her mother walked in. "Lord Armand wants to see us." "Oh?" Bianca's mind was blank -- certainly SHE hadn't done anything. "Any idea why?" "No, Daughter, I don't. But it cannot be good..." Inez was fidgeting badly. "We'll deal with it, Mama, whatever it is..." Finished dressing, she waved her mother before her. Mama could get so wrapped up in things... Mister Armand's office was almost crowded; Jason was there, too, as well as Mrs. Wilson -- whatever she was supposed to call her. Mama called her Mistress, but she was supposedly more of an employee than Mister Armand's wife. Inez freaked: "Master, Master, what have I done?" She went to her knees, crying. But Mister Jason merely stepped forward and hugged her against his leg. "You've done nothing, but we have evil news." Mister Armand looked grave. "When I sent him from here, I never foresaw this," he rumbled, "but your husband -- your father -- has been killed. One of my agents in Kansas City sent him to perform a task that held some danger, and he escalated a situation that led to his death." "Papa? Dead?" Bianca asked stupidly, shock rendering her vacuous. "Yes, Dear. I'm so sorry," Mrs. Wilson said. She stepped forward and took Bianca's hands. "I'm very sorry for your loss..." "Papa..." Tears rolled. Sharon pulled her in and hugged her. "How did it happen?" Inez asked, climbing to her feet. Jason didn't step away. Instead, he stood there, rubbing her back, looking discomfited. Armand shrugged. "Raoul was new in KC. Having a new face around was valuable to his new supervisor, because it meant he was unknown to the competition. So he sent him out on a covert job. Jason had warned him that Raoul required supervision, but it was apparently an easy job... Raoul got caught and tried to fight his way out, and injured a guard with one of his throwing knives. The guard's official testimony," Armand tapped a fax he'd gotten in the afternoon, "says he was shooting to wound, but the knife caused him to flinch. Raoul was shot in the chest, and died almost instantly." "I see," Inez said dully. "And the body?" "We, uh, haven't recovered him, because it would undo what he was there to accomplish..." Armand looked embarrassed. "Oh." Inez thought about it. "Si. He had false papers?" Armand nodded. "Yes. In addition, since his job occasionally exposed him to danger, we got his fingerprints mixed up in the government's systems with those of another person. He will be difficult to positively identify, unless we tip our hand." Inez nodded. "This would not be his wish -- this ruining the plan. We spoke of this, several times." She gathered herself. "It was his fault, too, wasn't it?" Armand sighed and nodded. "Nobody told him to go throwing knives at people. Especially people with guns. In fact, from what I can tell, he was instructed to go quietly to jail and that we would bail him out." Inez nodded. "Daughter..." "I know." Bianca sniffled, but nodded, backing off from Sharon. "It is the way Papa would do it." She shook her head. "I know how he was..." "Well, it is how he would have wanted to go -- not rotting in a jail..." Inez shook her head. She'd have been happy to have never seen him again, but he had been a part of her life for a long time... "When did you learn of this?" "This morning," Jason answered. "It happened last night. Raoul's new boss was waiting to pick him up, so he knew that Raoul had failed to escape, but he didn't get word of his death until this morning. We waited until Bianca came home so we could tell you both. We also wanted to be able to tell you more..." He grimaced, "Besides, it looks bad; I didn't want you to wonder if I had his blood on my hands." He glared at the ground. "I detested him, but I didn't send him off to get killed." "I'm sorry, but how do we know this?" Bianca asked. "I spoke to the man in Kansas City; Jason had me there as a witness while he debriefed him." Sharon piped up. "The man took full responsibility. It was his operation; he was acting independently and had not discussed it with Armand or Jason." "You may speak to him, too, if you like. I will send for him, if necessary," Armand rumbled. He paused. "Frankly, I might have approved the mission, and approved Raoul's participation -- but I would have probably stressed that he not go in alone..." Inez nodded. Jason NEVER let Raoul go on anything covert alone, something that Raoul had railed at, but subsequent comments from Jason had made clear was always necessary, as Raoul tended to be hot-headed and make mistakes. Jason had usually debriefed Inez by ranting at her about Raoul's stupidity while abusing her worse than normal... She could remember one particular incident where Jason demanded a blowjob while wielding a quirt... ------- "All he had to do was keep his BIG MOUTH..." WHACK! The quirt descended, full force! "... FUCKING..." WHACK! "... SHUT!" POW! Inez had almost swallowed Jason's cock whole, trying to get away, and the stinging welts had shown for a week... ------- Inez roused herself from the memory. "Daughter, this has the ring of truth..." Bianca hung her head. "I know." Wasn't Papa ALWAYS in trouble for acting up? "Please, sit, everyone," Armand offered. Inez and Bianca settled on a small couch: Jason, uneasily, on a chair. Armand assumed his seat behind the desk, and Sharon pulled up another chair from the side of the room. When Jason noticed, he assisted her in repositioning it. Inez pondered a bit. "How does this change things?" "From my perspective, it need not," Armand responded. "You already possess independent employment, and the circumstances of your relationship with Jason haven't changed any. Obviously, there will now be no divorce -- that situation has improved, if you'll pardon my mentioning it." He steepled his fingers. "Did Raoul make any provision for you upon his death?" "No," Inez said tonelessly, "It wasn't his way." Actually, on a couple of occasions, he'd made remarks to the effect that it amused him that Inez would be bereft upon his death... "Well, you should look around," Armand counseled. "Actually, as an employee, he had a small accidental death policy. Collection would be difficult, under the circumstances, but I can disburse the funds to replace the policy from another account." "How much is small?" Inez wondered aloud. This was the first she'd heard of it... "Fifty thousand dollars..." Inez's eyes popped. "WHAT?" Armand was expressionless. "It's a standard employee term-life policy. In fact, you should have one. Jason, have her employment papers been drawn up properly?" Fifty thousand dollars! Inez sat there, dazed. She could go back to Mexico a rich widow! No one need ever know what she did here... She could... No, she couldn't. She couldn't make Bianca live in Mexico. She couldn't explain away the baby. And she couldn't leave her Master... Her eyes flicked to Jason's, which weren't as shuttered as he thought they were. "Bianca will need college money..." "No she won't," was all Jason said on the matter. It was all he had to, in that tone... "Good." Armand sat back. "We can bury the disbursement in Inez's employment contract as a hiring bonus. Inez, I recommend that you allow Jason to invest it for you. There will be other needs, later..." A significant glance at Inez's belly made the remark transparent. He turned his attention to Bianca. "Young Lady, I have an urgent need to clear the way between us and between you and your new de-facto guardian. I imagine that Jason recorded his conversation with Jacobson in Kansas City, as well as having Sharon sit in as witness. You may hear that recording if you wish. If necessary, I will have Jacobson fly here and discuss the matter -- but I don't think wreaking vengeance upon him is warranted, as it was an honest mistake..." He sighed. "Ultimately, your father doomed himself." "I need to think," Bianca replied. "Fine." Armand nodded. "The recording isn't going anywhere; neither is Jacobson. If you have questions, feel free to bring them to me. This episode is... highly embarrassing to me. If I had seen fit to do something like this, I'd admit it and let you think of me what you will; this implication issue is... irritating." He turned to Inez. "From where I sit, this changes very little in the way of your operational circumstances. Jason is still your Master. I am still your employer." He leaned forward. "The fact that Raoul's death appears to be convenient in some ways is coincidence, not design. You may leave my employ, if you wish, at any time. However, there is still your child by Jason, whose illegitimacy may now be obscured somewhat ahead of schedule. You may or may not avoid the embarrassment with your family that news of the adultery and divorce will have raised; that is between you, your Master, your daughter, and the rest of your family. Likewise, the religious implications can be swept under the rug, but God and the people in this room will know the difference." He chuckled dryly, "Most of us in this room are Protestant -- OUR God would forgive you..." Sharon moved on to another matter, "Inez, do you want to take some time off?" "Perhaps -- a few hours, Mistress..." Inez was shifting her eyes between her daughter and her master. Bianca was in her own little world, and Master? Master seemed uncertain how to proceed... Finally, Jason said, carefully, "These are unusual circumstances. If you need to be alone, I will allow it. Or you can come to me for... comfort and support. I'm not... experienced in this area, but I will try..." "Thank you, Master." Armand waved a hand. "Are we done?" he inquired gruffly. The two women most involved nodded, and Armand waved dismissal. Bianca got out of there. She needed time alone, or the support of an independent party... Ten minutes later, she was pouring her heart out to the Wench: "He's dead! Mister Armand and Mister Jason are very upset because it looks like they set him up..." "Did they say what happened?" "Papa's new boss sent him out on a job -- some kind of break-in, apparently. Because Papa wasn't known locally, he was apparently the perfect choice... Anyway, the guards found him and he tried to get clear by killing one with a knife, but the guard was fast, and he had a gun..." She paused. "They COULD have done it..." The Wench cuddled Bianca to her. "I don't think so; if Master wanted your father dead, there are easier ways. What kind of bona fides did they provide?" "What?" "What did they use to try to convince you?" "They apparently taped a talk with the boss who sent Papa in. Mister Armand's ex-wife said she was there, and she believed him. Apparently the guy said it was all his fault..." Bianca shrugged. "Sharon said she believed him?" the Wench confirmed. "Yes." "Then I would, too. Sharon's relationship with Master is a bit odd, but she won't lie for him. You can bet on that." The Wench declaimed confidently. "Really? Weren't they married? Isn't she, uh, little more than you are to him?" The Wench chuckled. "Maybe, Hon, but it's more how she goes about it. While I spend my time trying to be Master's tool, Sharon spends a lot of time trying to define herself as a separate person. The rules she lives by don't allow her to lie to you; if she thought Master was up to something, she'd be saying it -- loudly. Master would punish her, of course..." the Wench grinned, "but she'd do it, anyway, as a matter of principle." "Oh." Bianca shook her head. "Weird." "Yeah, but it works for them. Mistress Nora is almost normal, largely due to the way Sharon raised her and Master stayed low-profile." Bianca mused a bit, "There's a big difference between Papa being dead and just being gone..." "There is and there isn't," the Wench argued. "It all depends on your relationship. Were you ever going to see him again? I wonder... Does it matter if you have a daddy out there, somewhere, if he's not in your life? This way, you can move on, in some ways..." "I guess." Bianca was unconvinced. "I think I'll go somewhere quiet and think about it." ------- Chapter 28: Various Ambushes "Matheson," the investigator murmured into his cell phone. "This is Scott. There seems to be a second team setting up at the Adams place." "How many?" "Three, I think. Unless they're smarter than they look." "Any idea who?" "Not sure, but at a guess, they're Pinkham's boys. I think that Flood is placing them." "Okay, I'll alert the support team." Matheson hung up and called Davis, who had the security team for Nora at this time of the day. "Davis." "Matheson. Scott says it looks like Pinkham's people are setting up around the Adams place." "Okay. We're up at the hospital -- Ms. Adams has a crowd. I'm pretty sure young Nate is planning to go get himself some clothing, though, from the intercepts." Christensen, managing the audio equipment, nodded. The pair were in a van, downstairs; Allenby was close-in, wandering the ward upstairs. Matheson had bugged the room himself, during his visit. "Okay, I think we should prepare for something to go down," Matheson directed. "The three of you stay ready, and I'll go there and we'll have the surveillance team in place's support, too. That's about two to one..." "Okay," Davis confirmed, "We'll be ready." "We're going to want to ID these guys and get a grip on their intentions -- without seriously endangering Nora or Nate..." "Roger." Davis' military background showed periodically. "I'm headed out -- keep us posted." "Will do." Matheson made for his car, calling Scott back en route, "There might be some action; Nate is going by to pick up clothing. Get ready for trouble; the team on Nora is briefed and will let us know. I'm on the way there..." Next, he called the duty supervisor, briefing him. The surveillance team normally assigned to Sharon embarked in a van to assist. Crossing George's palm with silver had gotten Flood into the apartment. "I bet you five bucks he ain't been here in a coupla days," he grunted. Jaime, scoping the living room, shrugged. "Okay, he ain't here now, so we back out until he gets here. Let's go!" Nate could have been a bunch of places, but he wasn't -- Flood was right. The pair retreated to positions outside the apartment, inconspicuously watching the approaches. ------- Randall nerved himself for his second 'tutoring session' with Peggy Ellis. Peggy had made things pretty clear, yesterday, receiving him in an empire-waisted sundress that was thin enough to see through and short enough to see under and a pair of sandals with short heels -- and apparently nothing else! Follow-on activity was just as obvious; she kept finding ways to wrap her unfettered breasts around his upper arm while leaning over his shoulder to look at the chemistry book. Late in the session, Peggy had begun overtly touching him, putting her hand on his back when she leaned in, and letting it drift over his ass as she withdrew. Randall had a hard time keeping his mind on the material he was trying to impart, which raised another of Peggy's shortcomings -- she wasn't the brightest bulb in the circuit, and probably DID need the assistance. Randall frankly didn't see any future in laying Peggy, but his glands kept telling him that the present would do quite nicely... Staring at the chessboard, he rubbed his forehead distractedly. Jimmy Hightower grinned. "C'mon, Man, this move isn't rocket science..." He was winning handily, which told him that Randall was distracted as clearly as Randall's expression. "What's up?" "I have to go tutor Peggy in Chemistry..." Randall sighed. "That's a fate worse than death?" "Well, it's supposed to be chemistry, but to Peggy, it's pretty obviously biology..." "Oh? Porky Peggy is chasing you? When did THIS start?" Jimmy chuckled. "Yesterday, out of the blue," Randall grunted. "I dunno..." "What?" "Well, she spent an hour and a half trying to get me to jump her bones -- and when you get past the basic size thing it's not like she's a hag or anything -- but she's pretty slow..." "Ummm," Jimmy flashed a glance at where Amy Kelleher sat, ten feet away, reading a magazine, "Brains aren't everything, Man..." How could he couch this so as not to get in trouble with his girlfriend? Amy demonstrated fine hearing without looking up. "I picked Jimmy for his brains, among other things -- but not because I want to compete with them. We have other things in common, but I let him run the brains department, while I bring other things to the table..." Jimmy, mostly off the hook, wriggled the rest of the way. "Amy has the common sense franchise." His reward for this was Amy looking up from her magazine and blowing him a kiss. "And maybe a couple of other things... Point is, it might work for you." "I dunno, Man." "Well, it wouldn't hurt to try it out..." "I guess not. Check." Randall moved a rook. "Maybe getting laid again would make you a better chess player," Jimmy observed, taking the rook. "Mate. Go take care of business, Man." Twenty minutes later, Randall was on Peggy's front step. This time, her mother answered the bell, and Randall got a look at what was undoubtedly Peggy in twenty years -- something somewhat larger in all dimensions. Still, the woman was somewhat sweet-faced, if a bit jowly. "Hi, I'm Randall. I'm tutoring Peggy in Chemistry..." "Oh, I see..." The woman backed up and waved him in, her expression saying that she understood a good deal more than what was said. Randall entered gingerly, wondering what was up. The answer seemed to be 'Peggy'. She'd found a halter-top that covered her belly while offering even less control of her breasts than yesterday's sundress. She was contriving to display a large amount of relatively creamy flesh at the back while the handkerchief-cut front dipped below the waistline of the short black skirt she was wearing with it -- and of course the obligatory sandals with the short stiletto heels... Thinking about it, Randall realized he'd NEVER seen her in flats; Peggy's calves, while large, were well-shaped for their size, and Peggy undoubtedly knew that defining them using heels was important. Randall, being Randall, wondered what they DID look like in flats... The look on Peggy's mother's face said she usually did her homework in sweats -- but then, Randall had figured THAT out the day before. Ah, well... "Where were we?" Peggy played up. "Mr. Friedrichs handed out a bunch of problems today -- molar volume calculations. Can we take a look?" "Okay. Let's see 'em." Seconds later, Randall was wondering vaguely what Peggy thought he'd meant as she lurched up out of the chair, climbed onto it on her hands and knees, and leaned clear across the table to pick the paper up off of a pile there. The motion lifted the skirt halfway up the bare moons of her ass cheeks and Randall became embroiled in that age-old war to determine whether the head on his shoulders or the one in his pants ruled his existence. Actually, Randall's basic programming rendered the supposed conflict moot; the little head won, hands down. Randall found himself looking at the blonde fringe on a pair of puffy outer labia that framed a set of thin, delicate, and mildly damp inner lips, slightly open to expose a hint of pink flesh. Randall came back to himself with the realization that he'd been reprocessing the image for several seconds, and Peggy was again seated, turned to hold the sheet up for him to accept. A guilty glance at Peggy's mother revealed the fact that she was apparently unaware that Peggy was sans panties and he'd just gotten a major flash; her return glance was puzzled. Randall shrugged and collected the sheet of problems. Peggy smiled sardonically as she turned back to the table. Got him! He'd seen it, and he'd reacted -- now all she had to do was reel him in... For the next fifteen minutes, she worked seated at the table with Randall hanging over her shoulder, going slowly from a start point with both his hands on the chair back (which was unsatisfactorily distant for both of them) to beside her with one hand draped over the chair back, to -- finally -- pointing out issues from close beside her with one somewhat sweaty hand on her bare shoulder. Gladys Ellis, watching this out of the corner of her eye while she worked on dinner, was vaguely disquieted -- but both of them were apparently intent on whatever ungodly piece of science they were wrestling with, and the boy was OBVIOUSLY well-credentialed as an instructor... Randall's bent-over position fig-leafed his erection -- until Peggy deliberately turned to her right and rubbed her shoulder against it. Randall flicked a nervous glance at her, to find her face expressionless, but her eyes laughing as she asked, "Is it 'v squared', then?" "Uh huh." Randall's fingers spread and squeezed a handful of her fleshy left shoulder without conscious direction. "Okay, then, so..." But the verbal flow stopped there while Peggy took a moment for gleeful anticipation. Randall was in the trap! Now, how to close the door... The day before, it would have been easier, since her mother had been out shopping, but Randall had been more wary... "Ahem..." Randall prompted. Jeezus, she could be slow... Even distracted, Randall had worked this one in his head in a few seconds. Randall wasn't good at multi-processing, but he could do the math, worry about whether he liked the feel of her fleshy shoulder, and still have available processor time -- not to mention wonder if she'd picked up on his hard-on when she nudged it with her shoulder, and, if so, what she was going to do about it. "Ummm..." Back to chemistry; Peggy put her mind back on the rails and cranked out the answer. Gladys provided the excuse for the move to Phase III by turning on the small kitchen TV. "Mom! How am I gonna concentrate?" Working up a fine head of bogus steam, Peggy announced, "I'm tired of trying to work here, anyway! We'll be in my room, where I have a computer to help!" Gladys blinked and started to impede the move that Peggy had immediately begun preparations for, collecting books and papers and shoving an armload on her lanky tutor -- but Peggy had produced two apparently perfectly valid reasons why continued efforts at the table were a hardship. Besides, it wasn't as if the boy was visibly drooling on her or anything... She stood down, shrugging. "Leave the door open." Randall couldn't decide whether this pleased him or not; the big head was relieved, while the little one ranted at the lack of privacy and maneuvering room the tactic provided. Peggy led him to the stairs to the second floor and preceded him up them; the little head insisted on backing off in order to take advantage of the changed angle to ogle the swaying moons of Peggy's ass as she ascended ahead of him. Those moons were good- sized, but Randall was learning appreciation for them as he went. Once in her room, Peggy went to her desk and started her PC, settling into the task chair. Randall followed, and she took his armload from him while he murmured, "I'm not sure we need the computer..." "Well, it won't hurt to start it," Peggy smiled, " since I told Mother we did." She started arranging books and papers on the desktop. "Okay, where were we?" "Number eleven, I think." Randall moved up on her right and the little head insisted that he replace his hand on her shoulder while he bent forward to peer at the problem list. "Okay." Peggy surprised him by sliding her hand along the inside of his left leg. The little head went nuts, screaming, 'She wants it! Get in there and cop a feel!' Randall blinked owlishly; there were issues, here -- why couldn't he seem to remember them? Peggy's position kept her from working her hand UP his leg -- she was limited to somewhere around the knee and below -- but it was just as deliberate an invasion of HIS personal space as his hand on her shoulder -- and they both knew it. Furthermore, she was moving the hand, up and down, encouraging Randall to do the same... "Let's see what we have, here..." Randall leaned further forward, and in the process moved his hand along the top of her shoulder to her neck. "This one looks pretty straightforward; why don't you take a run at it without me in the way?" He raised up and Peggy reluctantly leaned forward, releasing his leg -- but Randall's hand started moving all over her exposed upper back. 'Okay, ' Peggy thought, 'That works. Damn! What can I do to push things along?' She re-focused and started working on the problem; Randall's hand was enough distraction without conscious thought about how to keep it moving... She worked at it, plugging figures into the formula and doing the math, and the next step took care of itself, as she rolled her head to the left, trapping his hand against her neck when it ventured there. Randall froze. He'd been mindlessly inventorying the smooth skin of her broad upper back when she pinned his hand. Removing the thing didn't seem to be the right thing to do, so now what? The most natural thing seemed to be engaging her upper arm with his right hand... The little head pressed the attack -- if you consider walking through the open gates of a totally undefended fortress an attack! -- and Randall began rubbing Peggy's right shoulder and upper arm while nodding over her efforts. This was good... Peggy was having some issues with writing straight with her head canted over to the left to trap his hand, but she didn't want to give him the freedom to step away, just yet -- not before he was too committed to do so, anyway... Half of her brain was handling the math, which had gotten to the simple manipulation phase, the thought process defining how to handle the problem being over -- and the other half was reveling in Randall's touch. His left hand was gently squeezing her shoulder and neck, and his right was drifting from the point of her shoulder up and down her upper arm. Randall's attention drifted from the arm to the breasts immediately adjacent; they were big and juicy and capped with a pair of seriously stiff nipples... Randall couldn't see the color, but the things were poking serious bumps in her halter; chemistry was drifting rapidly out of the focus of his attention. Peggy, starting to sense a victory in chemistry, triggered Phase IV inadvertently by raising her head and flopping back at problem completion, "There!" Randall, taken totally by surprise, found his hand on a soft, globular breast with a nipple on it every bit as stiff as it looked! Peggy's sudden shift had caught him in mid rub, and his hand had lost contact with her arm and dropped onto her breast as a result of her motion. Both froze in shock, then Randall snatched away his hand as if it were burned. "Wups! Sorry!" But the little head was cheering, and his hand tingled from the feel of the soft flesh. Peggy's breasts were a lot different from Darla Jean's in shape and size, but the actual feel of them was very similar... "It's okay," Peggy husked. "My fault. Want to check the problem?" Randall, embarrassed, kept his hands to himself as he stepped forward, tracing the flow of the solution with a finger. "Yeah, that's it. Uhhh..." "Cut it out," Peggy murmured, pinning him by wrapping an arm around the base of his butt. "I haven't exactly been screaming and yelling, have I?" She rubbed the theoretically violated breast against Randall's left leg, eyeing him coyly. "Uh, no..." "All right, then. Let's forget about it." Her expression became feral, and she added, "Or let's not..." She deliberately took his left hand in hers, and, wrapping it around her shoulder, laid it on her left breast. "Now," she added, businesslike, "I need to pass this quiz..." She leaned forward to examine the next problem, her hand still pinning his wrist. "Okay, on to number... twelve..." The little head was in full control; Randall couldn't rely on memory it didn't have. He released her right hand from his hip so he could step back, but squelched her momentary disappointment by shifting to a point behind her and collecting her right breast, too. He was amazed at himself, and amazed at Peggy, who seemed content to deal with any old intrusion as if it were a minor matter. His fingers automatically settled on the stiff buds capping her fleshy mounds, and he began teasing them, gently pulling and twisting. Peggy inhaled sharply through her nose. Mother had better stay downstairs, dammit! She released his left hand so she could rub up and down the arm. This next problem was going to be hard to read, even, never mind work... "Maybe we should take a break?" Randall stood there, trying to decide whether he should take the high road and insist that they work longer when Peggy scotched it by leaning back and husking, "Take them out..." Randall's little head spoke directly to his hands; in a moment, they were full of soft breast flesh without an intervening layer of fabric. Peggy snaked her hand up behind his head, and Randall found himself taking her offered lips. This was good -- VERY good -- and it got better when Peggy followed husking, "Yeah, break time," in his ear with a nibble. Peggy was going full-tilt, trying to figure out how to bring this scene to the point where she could feel him moving within her. Gone were long-range concerns; his hands on her breasts had lit her already smoldering desire and she needed a good quenching. Trapping his hands against her breasts, she leaned forward and turned on her portable CD player, just loud enough to drown out the moans she KNEW she was going to make if she could just keep Randall moving forward... Trapping his hands again, she rose from the task chair, moving to her right and then backing into him. Old Mister Eveready seated himself between the cheeks of her ass, iron-hard even through her skirt. "Mmmmmmm..." She reached behind her and rubbed Randall's crotch. Could they fuck here? No, probably not -- Mother might wander in if there was a commotion -- and there was going to be, if she got THAT out of his pants! Where, then? Of course! Sliding out of her sandals so the heel click wouldn't give them away, she murmured, "Shhhh! Follow me..." On the way out, however, she stopped, melting against him for a moment, then got his attention and pointed to her night table. Even the untutored knew a birth control pill case; Randall got it immediately, and the last vestiges of sanity disappeared with the concern over possible pregnancy. Red-faced, practically panting, he went to work on her neck, eliciting a shuddering, "Oh, God... Hurry!" She broke free, taking his hand and after a quick glance up and down the hall, she led him quietly toward the room her father had outfitted as his office/study, leaving the bedroom door wide open behind them in an effort at misdirection. Once inside, she closed the door behind them and led Randall to the big leather couch. There was no fear that her father would catch them -- he was on a sales trip in the Midwest -- or at least that's what he'd told Mother... The halter went on the floor as she seated herself, pulling him to stand before her and putting his hands back to work on her itchy, tingling nipples. "I want to see it," she husked, reaching for his fly. Randall couldn't have stopped her if it meant his death. He couldn't even talk -- things had gone 'way too far for sanity. Peggy wanted it -- the little head had been telling him that all along, and now it was coming out to play... "Omigod!" Freeing Randall's erection from his underwear brought a surprise -- the thing was MUCH bigger than anyone she'd had, except maybe August Lippmann's, and while August was in the same class, Randall was noticeably longer -- and harder, too! "Wow! Soooo nice!" She leaned forward, and Randall thought that she might start a blowjob, but she merely inhaled the scent, kissed the shaft briefly, and rubbed it against her cheek. Then she went to work at his belt, opening his pants and working his erection back through the opening in his underwear so she could slide the whole mess down his legs. That done, she held it while she lay out flat on the couch, spreading her legs and flipping up her short skirt to expose her cunny (and provide some belly coverage in the process). "Put it in me, Randall! Fuck me!" Randall was in no condition to argue; he fought with the wad at his ankles so that he could work properly braced, then threw himself at Peggy's exposed pussy. He stopped for a brief moment of discovery, opening her outer lips with is finger and collecting a fingerful of her honey to spread up and down her slot. This was the first pussy he'd actually SEEN, close- up; Darla Jean's had been operated on in darkness. The thing was amazing -- and he could tell already that the pair differed widely. But both of them were feeling the urgency, so Randall didn't delay long; instead, he knelt up and began sliding his cock up and down between her puffy nether lips. Peggy was in no mood for delay; she pulled him up and forward, demanding penetration with her hands. Randall complied, discovering instantly one difference between Peggy and Darla Jean; Peggy was TIGHT -- incredibly tight -- so tight that wedging himself inside her was unbelievably difficult! Darla Jean had been tight, but Peggy was virtually crushing... For Peggy, Randall was everything she believed that he would be, and more -- too much more! Early penetration was painful, but the pleasure component overrode it. But when Randall got his rhythm going, it became apparent that the pair were mismatched -- Randall bottomed out before he reached full depth! Impacts on her cervix were painful, causing her to bring up her legs to fend him off, "Easy!" Randall backed off. Peggy pulled him higher, which helped them both by taking advantage of his length to stimulate her along the channel between her labia. Friction along her clitoris had her hugging him to her, crushing him to her globular breasts, moaning, "Okay, like that! Go! Go!" Randall went. He drove himself like an automaton, allowing her to control penetration by taking him on her shins, and getting stimulation from dragging along her labia. In very little time, Peggy went rigid, almost unseating him, but her hugging arms counteracted the pressure from her shins, "UuuuuUUUUUUuugggghhhh!" Randall rode right through this, managing to maintain something close to his pace while Peggy jammed up. This was good stuff, but he was having a problem with that last, little bit of sensation that would bring him off... After Peggy loosened up, things got better, but the urgency was gone for a bit. Randall kept driving, Peggy rubbing his back and grunting with every stroke. This time, they rose toward climax together, Randall driving through Peggy's rising resistance. As she began to surge in her final approach, Randall felt that tickle that a hundred masturbation sessions told him was his final countdown. He stepped up the pounding, pushing past Peggy's resistance and bringing her over the hump, then ground himself against her as he let go of his spunk, pouring it out in quantity in long pulses while she gasped and whined beneath him, "Hhhrrrrrrgh!" Peggy clutched him to herself, "Wow! That was..." Words failed her. "We'd better get up, though..." "Okay." Randall struggled up. Looking down at himself, he felt kind of foolish; he was naked below the waist. Snagging his pants, he started climbing into them. Peggy had it easier -- all she had to do was put on her halter. After that, it was time to clean the excess off the leather of the couch, while ignoring the white leakage running down her legs. "Ready?" "Yeah," Randall was still tucking in his shirttails. "Okay. I STILL need to pass that test..." "Let's go, then." "I have to hit the bathroom first. I'll be right there." "Okay." Randall headed for the bedroom, while Peggy made for the bath. Two minutes later, Gladys found the boy alone in her daughter's room. "Where's Peggy?" "Bathroom," Randall shrugged. He hoped she'd be quick; he was beginning to feel his post-coital urge... Peggy was sopping up the aftermath. She was sore -- really sore -- worse even than the night she lost her virginity. During the act, it had been great, but now she was going to waddle for a couple of days... When she was done, she went back to her room and stepped into panties, the very first thing. "Ready?" Randall grinned. "Now I have to pee..." ------- Nate pulled up before his ratty-looking apartment building. "This'll only take a sec..." "I'm here, Nate -- might as well see..." Nora insisted. "Besides, I'm not sure being alone out here is a good idea, either." "Awright. It ain't pretty." "And how is that YOUR fault?" Nora cocked an eyebrow. Nate shrugged and led the way inside. Two shadows detached themselves from locations in the immediate vicinity and followed... The apartment was run-down; the furniture saggy, the TV set had rabbit ears instead of cable, and the walls could use some paint. But it was clean, and Nora had no doubt that it was because Nate had cleaned it. This became particularly clear from the doorway of Nate's tiny bedroom, which was as neat as everywhere else -- except the OTHER bedroom, visible through the door at the end of the hall... No, a woman who left her own things in such a mess didn't keep her son's as neat as a pin... Nate started digging through the closet, laying out some jeans and a couple of shirts -- but he didn't get to the dresser; the front door opened, and two guys walked in -- a big black and a Hispanic. "Yo, Nate! Where's your Mama?" the black asked. Nate moved Nora behind him with his eyes, and replied, "Hospital." "She shoulda paid better attention to Rodday." "Mebbe," Nate replied. "Mebbe Rodday's in deep shit." "Oh?" The black passed a significant glance with his partner. "From who?" Nate passed it off. "Then again maybe Rodday had nuthin' to do wit' it..." ------- Scott, just outside the door, grinned. Nate was doing his work for him -- just like he knew he was there. Stretch, Flood's lookout, hadn't been alert -- probably since the others had been there for hours. 'Thud' Thompson, his backup, was well-named, although he'd managed to keep Stretch from making a loud one on the floor after he hit him... Flood grinned. "What do YOU think, Boy? You be sure that your Mama comes to see Rodday, as soon as she's better, now. He wouldn't want to have something ELSE happen to her..." His grin showed even more teeth. "Hospitals are SOOOO expensive. She's gonna have to work hard to pay for this... Too bad she ain't got a protector." "What makes you think she don't?" Nate replied. "He'd a' stuck his nose in shit by now," Flood replied. "Mebbe you're fuckin' blind. Mebbe somebody's gonna get their dick cut off..." "By you? Hey, whatcha got here, anyway? Come around front, Sweet Thang -- let's get a look at ya." Flood flicked a glance back at Nate. "Mebbe if you put your little piece, here, on the street, she can pay Mama's hospital bills." "Now you done it," Nate grated. "Now you fuckin' done it!" Flood had, too. It was a trigger point. Scott and Thompson came very quietly through the door. Flood wasn't laying hands on Miss Nora... Nate telegraphed nothing; to his street-wise eyes, the new pair was night and day to Flood and Jaime. Nora's eyes widened; she wasn't as sure -- but Flood took that for fear generated by his threats. "Hey, Nate, how about I break her in for ya? After she's had a few strange dicks in her, she'll be another meal ticket -- just like Mama..." BZZZZZZT! Thompson used a tazer on Jaime; he never knew what hit him. "Wha?" was all Flood got out before Scott hit him the first time. Flood was big, but Scott had surprise and martial arts training behind him; it took all of a second and a half to leave Flood semi-conscious on the floor. "Everybody all right?" Scott asked perfunctorily. "We'd have come in sooner, but Mr. Adams was conducting such a fine interrogation..." Nate and Nora nodded, mildly dazed, and Scott went to radio, "All clear, here. I think we already know what we need to, but we might as well take these three somewhere and sweat them a bit." "Agreed. Is the back way clear?" Matheson replied. "Was when I came in." "We're bringing the van around. I'll call you when it's all clear." "Bring muscle. One of these guys is BIG, and they're both out of it." "Will do." "You can go on about your business, Sir," Scott advised Nate, "but I'd wait to leave until we're all ready, since both yours and Miss Nora's surveillance teams are tied up with this bunch..." "Cool." Nate returned to his room and resumed collecting his things; only Nora noticed how his hands were shaking. "Can you take this? I gotta do something, and I'm gonna need my hands..." Nora nodded and followed him meekly out of the apartment, just as Matheson and two others arrived. Scott and Matheson passed a glance, and Matheson nodded; Scott followed the pair out at a distance. It wouldn't be a good thing to discover that Rodday had put a second team in place... Nate led Nora down to the first floor, but instead of going out to the car, he headed for the back of the building. Knocking on the last door on the right, he yelled, "George! Open the fuck up!" A blast of cigar smoke rolled out of the open door as George planted himself in it, sucking his stinkweed. "Yeah?" His glance flicked to the white chick standing behind Nate. That may not have been his undoing, but it didn't help. Nate kicked the big man dead in the balls. "You muthafuckah! NEXT time, you'll think twice before lettin somefuckin'body in MY place!" Nate hit him with a left that smashed his head into the door facing and caused the cigar to go flying. "You sumbitch! I coulda been killed! And them fuckers was gonna do my woman..." George, kneeling semi-conscious, took another kick. "I oughta fuckin' kill you!" Nate took him by the shoulders and flipped him on his back in an effort that appeared superhuman to Scott, watching from down the hall, then followed him into the room. Now that he had the big man down, Nate didn't quite know what to do with him. He stuck a foot on his neck. "You remember this, you sumbitch! You ever cross me again -- ESPECIALLY if it puts my woman in a trick! -- and I ain't gonna stop here! You unnerstand?" "Ack! Ack!" was all George could get out. "I oughta break both your fuckin' arms -- but you do fuck-all around here anyfuckin'way..." "Nate..." a soft contralto sounded from the hall. Nate stood down. "You are SOOO fucking lucky..." he growled, and strode out. Scott, bemused, let him pass. The couple sat in Nate's car until the van came around and Matheson waved them off from his car. Once on the road, Scott related the confrontation with George... "The guy weighed three hundred, easy -- and the kid lit him up! It was pretty impressive... Even more impressive? Nora called him down with one word... Dude is seriously whipped, or she's a wild animal trainer -- or both..." "Be sure you write it up..." ------- Armand alerted Sharon in his home office, "Some of Pinkham's people intercepted Nate and Nora at his apartment." "Omigod!" "It's fine. We had more people on it than you could shake a stick at. We collected their whole team and have sequestered them for interrogation." "Armand, these things aren't really legal..." "Neither are Pinkham's activities. We won't kill them -- which I wouldn't boast of a pimp." "Well, all right." "I'm told that one of Pinkham's people threaten to molest Nora, and Nate took umbrage. After the incident, he went downstairs and delivered a serious lesson in loyalty to tenants to the landlord." Armand's expression reflected amusement. "The Adams may have to move..." "Maybe we should find Nate his own rooms, for now..." Armand eyed her sardonically, "Why waste the space?" "Well..." "It's too late, Sharon. Besides, they're doing the 'two can live as cheaply as one' thing. And they're smitten with one another." He went back to examining papers. "It'll burn out, or it won't. In the meantime, her sex life is better -- if less varied -- than yours." He looked up reflectively. "I don't know if I can ever be gentle -- but there is always the Wench..." Sharon went scarlet. "I'm not a -- a..." "Lesbian?" Armand smiled. "Neither is she, I assure you. But I agree with her that a little gentle fun periodically won't hurt you." "Armand!" "Oh, all right! Come here!" He pushed himself back from his desk. "Now!" Sharon backed up a step and turned to flee, but, "Dammit!" The house was bigger than Armand's office, but she was even less likely to escape... She flounced over to him. He looked her over. "Pants? I'd meant to mention them to you. Not in the house -- understood? Get 'em off." Sharon started to glare, but rolled her eyes. "Yes, Armand..." The more she thought about it the more she realized that crossing Armand HERE, in this HOUSE, just wasn't smart; the 'playroom', after all, was just down the hall... She stepped out of her slacks, taking the panties down with them. "Those can stay in the drawer, too," Armand observed. Sharon merely nodded. "Nude," he prompted. Sharon nodded and divested herself of blouse and brassiere, quickly, efficiently -- before he became impatient and shredded them. "You know, I enjoy your little attempts at resistance..." he observed. "Uh huh," she replied. "Maybe I should just roll over, like Felicia?" "It's a tactic," he agreed, "but I might become irritated. Go get my pajamas and robe." "Like this?" "Of course..." "I... don't know where your room is." Damn him! She was peeling layers off this set-up like an onion... "Ask someone," Armand replied, his poker face failing to conceal his amusement. "The Wench, or Consuelo -- anyone, actually, although you may want to ask one of the women so they can point out where my clothing is..." Sharon stamped a now-bare foot. "MUST you practice humiliating me?" "Yes." "Fine." She stepped to the wall and activated the intercom, "Felicia, would you meet me outside Armand's study, please?" "Yes, Mistress." "Run along, then," Armand admonished, "You're distracting me. Wait in the hall." Furiously embarrassed, Sharon stepped out into the hallway. "Close the door." 'Dammit!' Sharon fumed to herself. She'd tried to outfox him, and he'd out-maneuvered her again! Now she was stuck here until Felicia arrived... The Wench arrived fairly quickly; but it didn't take an expert in anthropology to see that she was suppressing a grin. "So he's started on you, huh?" "Go ahead and laugh -- you're going to hurt your face, otherwise," Sharon grunted. The Wench kept it to a snort, and Sharon continued, "I need to go to his room and collect his lounging pajamas and a robe." "And it has to be you -- and you have to be naked." "Oh, of course," Sharon agreed sarcastically. "This way..." The Wench waved her forward. They found Consuelo in Armand's bedroom. "Master instructed me to brief you on the layout," she murmured, taking in Sharon's state. Sharon nodded. "As you can see, he's letting everyone know who's boss." She thought a moment. "On the other hand, there IS a pecking order -- and you're not in the uniform of the day!" Consuelo's face lost its look of suppressed amusement. "Yes, Mistress." She got out of her tiny black maid's uniform, stockings and all, while Sharon waited patiently. Afterward, she was all business while she displayed the setup and laid out Armand's pajamas for Sharon to take back. "You can dress again when I'm out of sight," Sharon tossed over her shoulder, "and next time, you can leave the stockings and garters. But if I'm showing it, you'd better be, too. Pass the word to the other girls." "That was brilliant, Mistress!" the Wench exclaimed. "Just the right note! But, uh, I think I'd let Velma stay dressed, if I were you..." "Velma?" "The cook." The Wench hung her hands out to parody Velma's girth. "Not too appetizing." "Oh, yeah," Sharon agreed. "What reason should I give?" "You don't need one -- she's unlikely to sue for discrimination or sexual harassment. And neither is anyone else..." The pair parted at Armand's door, but it was only momentary; Armand caught Sharon at the door with a look. "Send the Wench in." Sharon ducked back out the door, "Felicia!" "Mistress?" "He wants you." The Wench high-tailed it back, through the door, and into position, kneeling before Armand. "Master?" Armand waved vaguely at Sharon's discarded clothing. "Take this litter back to Sharon's rooms." "Yes, Master." The Wench began collecting. Armand ignored her. Standing, he turned his attention to Sharon, "Undress me." It had been a long time since Sharon had participated in this particular ritual, but she remembered the basics. She got him out of his jacket and shirt and into the pajama top with a minimum of cooperation, then went to work on the lower half. Was she going to go back to the full body- servant thing? Could she handle it, after all this time? Back when, the constant demands had nearly driven her to distraction... Shoes and socks, then trousers... Armand forestalled her, "The robe, first." The reason became clear when she thought about it; the robe shielded him from view while he was nude below the waist, which could make him look ridiculous, if someone barged in. She went back to the pants. Funny how she could just get into this, worrying about the practical issues while ignoring any import... His penis popped clear of his descending shorts, and she quashed an urge to give it a quick peck -- where had THAT come from? Finally, it was done. Armand resumed his seat while Sharon neatly folded his cast-offs, then turned to him. She wouldn't kneel unless he made an issue of it, which amused him, rather than irritating him. "Come here," he directed indicating his lap. "Sit." Sharon took a breath, 'Here we go... ' She settled gingerly. Armand began rubbing her back. "I was pleased with how you dealt with Consuelo," he announced, revealing that she'd been watched. 'Well, naturally, ' Sharon thought, 'Why bother to do that and not reap the enjoyment?' "Oh?" "The Wench is right -- you set the tone. While it is my province to humiliate you, they are not your superiors. Still, more for aesthetic reasons than anything else, I suggest that you exclude poor Velma. You can always claim that her kitchen duties make such things dangerous." Sharon nodded, still not speaking. 'Suggest? When was the last time he merely suggested something?' They sat for a moment, Armand distractedly rubbing her back, before Sharon asked, "Why am I here?" "Mmmm?" Armand drifted back from wherever. "Since you prefer rough male sex to soft female sex, I figured I ought to supply a dose. You need more practice; I've been neglecting you." He pushed her off his lap. "Make me hard -- oh, and get it good and wet; even I don't know where it's going, ultimately." He watched Sharon kneel there, the disgruntled look on her face as she went through the mental calisthenics that told her she had no choice, then reached for him. The Wench didn't do that; Consuelo didn't, either, or Leticia, or... The list went on, but the facts were clear; his 'broken' employees didn't stop to consider the consequences of disobedience reflexively, the way Sharon did. Even in the current situation, where Sharon hadn't uttered a peep of denial or demurral, her face still revealed that she was thinking about it... Armand's cock was nothing if not familiar to her; Sharon reached into his pajama fly for it, masking her features -- no reason to let the bastard know she enjoyed the damned thing... Armand allowed her to jack him for a moment, then motioned for her to lower the bottoms, clearing them out of the way. Well, there it was, in all its glory... What was he up to, anyway? She leaned in and started licking the head, causing it to swell with blood above her jacking hand. Armand relaxed and let her work. Sharon gave a better hand job than some women's blowjobs -- and her fellatio ran above that! There were two reasons for it, in Armand's opinion: First, she was trained to spec. She'd learned deep throat because he would accept nothing less, and her other skills were honed to his satisfaction. And second, whether she cared to admit it or not, she enjoyed the effort. She pissed and moaned virtually every time -- but she'd been known to orgasm in sympathetic detonation when he did. Armand cudgeled his brain in an effort to come up with some bit of brutality to differentiate this particular episode. Hmmmm... A mix of tactics presented itself, and Armand put them into play: "Go over there to the couch." Sharon hopped up. Maybe he would just lay her out and fuck her, for once -- wouldn't THAT be novel! But no, no such luck, he seated himself and slouched down, announcing, "Okay, climb on and ride it, cowgirl!" Hmmmm, how hard could THIS be? Sharon climbed onto his lap gingerly and managed an insertion -- she wasn't QUITE dry... Actually, although admitting it was beyond her, she knew she got damp any time she started to suck him, and this was no exception. Moving up and down told her that the tough part was doing all the work; normally, Armand provided the impetus. But then, she would control things, too, wouldn't she? Armand's face didn't flicker, but he read every thought through Sharon's open expression; she never masked herself while they were in a scene. He'd trained her to THAT, too, relatively subtly -- she was unaware of it. No problem, he'd give her some rope... The next twenty minutes were a revelation; somehow, Armand managed to keep her from orgasm on four different occasions. Despite the fact that the position was prime for controlled clitoral stimulation, Armand managed to ruin things by doing things like resting his fists on his thighs and denying her contact, or rocking her back and holding her there. On her third attempt, he started slapping the living Hell out of the sides of her breasts, totally breaking her concentration. Then exhaustion set in; Armand insisted that she keep moving, long after her legs were on fire. Finally, when movement just wasn't possible for her any more, he took his, brutally pounding into her from below with bruising force for a dozen strokes, then unceremoniously dumping her on the floor just in time to be bathed in his ejaculation. Sharon slumped on the floor, somehow managing not to sob. "I suppose you want to know why," Armand asked heavily. "There were several reasons. I was going to flog you, but your handling of Consuelo was too well done -- but then, you tried to get away with controlling our copulation. Add to that the fact that I want you to get over this aversion you have to cunnilingus and the fact that I once again was required to remind you who is in charge here. Whose orgasms were you SUPPOSED to be chasing, here?" "Yours..." There was a sob in her voice. "I see you remember." He eyed her narrowly. "You won't see another cock until you've cum on the Wench's tongue -- do you understand? And I will see to it that you live in a bath of sexual frustration until you follow instructions! Oh, and ANOTHER thing! Wait too long, and that next cock won't be mine! I'll find someone else to work you over, just to prove I can!" Thoroughly worked up, he flung a hand at the door, "Now get out!" Sharon found her feet at just about the time she hit the door -- until then, she crawled and stumbled on wobbly legs. Leaning on the door, she risked a question, "Can I dress?" "I'm done with you. Ensure that you are PROPERLY dressed -- I'll check!" "Yes, Armand." "Close the door!" Armand shook his head, "Silly bitch." Sharon staggered toward her rooms. Leticia came out of her room, took one look, and hit the intercom, "Wench! Come help Sharon -- she's in the north hall. Apparently, Master's been at her..." She braced Sharon, trying to stay away from the mess on her front. "Lean against the wall, here. I need to get to the kitchen, but the Wench is coming, okay?" Sharon waved her off, nodding. "What happened?" was the first thing out of the Wench's mouth. "It was time to teach me another lesson..." "What went wrong?" The Wench tucked her shoulder under Sharon's, bending a bit to manage the height mismatch. "I forgot who was servicing who. He seemed pleased about Consuelo..." "He was watching, then?" the Wench grinned. "Of course..." Sharon grunted sarcastically. "Anyway, I though that maybe we were gonna just have sex, vanilla style -- but he's got this new thing..." "Being?" The Wench prompted. "C'mon, you can tell me..." The pair passed into Sharon's rooms, headed directly for the bath. "It's -- I can't! Besides, it's YOU..." "Oh." The Wench sighed. "Better tell me then -- or HE will..." She seated her charge on the toilet and started moistening a washrag. "It's so embarrassing..." Sharon held still while her face was wiped. "He said that I couldn't have another orgasm from a... a cock... until I got one from -- I can't say it!" "From me?" Sharon nodded. "How? You got a little diddle the other night..." "Cu..." Sharon went fire engine red. "Cunnilingus?" The Wench laughed. "You are SO hung up! No wonder he's screwing with you! You might as well be carrying a sign saying 'Tease me with this'!" "I'm not a lesbian!" "Neither am I! We've covered this ground before! A little cuddle with the girls won't cure you of dick, Mistress! Not when you consider what you like with it! Relax! Let it go, or he'll get even worse..." "He said," Sharon gulped, "he said that if I screwed around very long, the next... cock I got wouldn't be his! He made it sound like he was gonna look for the most unappetizing man on the face of the earth, and make me have sex with him!" The Wench grimaced. "You know Master better than I do -- but when he starts tossing out things like that..." She shook her head. "The SMART thing to do would be to go into your bedroom, lay back and spread your legs..." She eyed her Mistress a moment. "But you're won't do that, will you? You're gonna go hunting for martyrdom..." "I... can't. Stupid of me, probably, but it's a matter of principle." "Stupid of you, CERTAINLY! How many of these confrontations have you won?" "To date?" Sharon grinned, wryly, "Zero. But hope springs eternal..." Somewhat recovered, she rose from the toilet. "Time to dress for dinner." ------- Fifteen minutes later, Sharon met her daughter and her boyfriend at the door. "Are you two okay?" "Nobody even touched us, Mom," Nora replied. "Some black guy got to talk big for a minute, then half a football team landed on him..." That she was protected like a president, or something, was pretty amazing to her. "Well, it seems like no one can catch their breath, this week," Sharon replied, her face serious. "There's been a death." "Oh?" "Inez's soon-to-be-ex husband had a run-in with a security guard in a plant in the Midwest -- and didn't survive. Inez and Bianca aren't happy. The whole thing reflects badly on your father and Jason, but I spoke to the manager involved and I believe they're blameless." "Mebbe I should leave," Nate offered. "Given recent events? No. On the contrary, I suggested that perhaps you should be given a room here for a time, but Armand feels that it would be a waste of space..." She gave Nora the eye. "He seems to feel that the room wouldn't get any use." Nora blushed furiously, and Nate looked away, embarrassed. "I need to run to the kitchen; apparently, despite the fact that my position with your father hasn't changed much, I'm in charge of the household..." She waved and left them at Nora's door. "Be sure and work on your homework!" Nora rolled her eyes. "Like I wouldn't without that. The things she worries about..." For the record, each was half-right. Books and papers were scattered all over the desk, but the pair were kissing when Jorge surprised them ten minutes later with an armload of Nate's gear from his car. ------- Flood wasn't having a good evening. A simple order to collect the Adams kid had netted him a serious ass-kicking. Now he was sitting, tied to a chair, getting the floodlight treatment -- and he thought he'd been given an injection... "So, tell us all about why you tortured Tabitha Adams," the voice behind the light asked. "I din't do that," he slurred, angry at himself that he couldn't talk straight, "That was a pro -- guy from outta town..." Shit! Should he have said anything? "Expensive?" the voice asked. "Naw, the guy loves his work, from what I hear. Offered Rodday bargain basement..." Oops! Shouldn't have mentioned Rodday... "So Rodday ordered it?" "I didn't say that! I ain't gonna, either!" Flood returned belligerently. "Who the fuck are ya, anyway?" Matheson chuckled. Truth drugs made anybody a comic. Time for a distraction. A nod, and Scott popped Flood in the kidney. Flood rocked. Goddamn, that hurt! The guy just kept hittin' the same place... "So, YOU ordered it?" Matheson prodded. "Naw -- what'dya think, I run things? Well, sorta... I called him. Boss said check around on her a bit, an' call if nothin' turned up..." "Got his number?" "Some fuckin' where -- whaddya think, I memorized it?" Dammit! What have I said THIS time? Fuckin' kidney... "Who's your boss, then?" "Like I'm tellin' you?" Thud. "Ahhh, shit..." Flood was gonna piss himself if this kept up... "Why didn't you check out Tabitha's claims of protection?" "Would YOU? Pure bullshit! I asked around jus' a little, but it wasn't worth it -- no fuckin' way she had some invisible pimp." "From a procurer's standpoint, you were right -- but she DID have protection, obviously..." "No fuckin' shit!" Thud. "Aaugh!" "Besides, no doubt Rodday was anxious to have his object lesson..." "Yeah. The Adams bitch was perfect. If the guy wasted her no big thing..." Fuck, what had he said? "I don't suppose you bothered with background, like who her son was dating?" the voice asked. "Who gives a shit?" "Indeed." Matheson gave Scott the high sigh, and Flood took one on the jaw, designed to anesthetize him. In the hall, Christensen met Matheson as he exited the room, "The other two are just poor muscle." "Yeah," Matheson agreed, "Flood's a lieutenant; he admitted to calling in the contractor, too. I wish we could get THAT phone number..." Detail like that seldom came out under drugs, and Flood was unlikely to have the number drifting around in memory, anyway. "We'll keep them until after tomorrow's meeting. Then we'll get instructions, no doubt." Christensen nodded. ------- Bianca was in the kitchen with the staff, eating. When she'd left the Wench to return to her rooms, Mama was there, wandering around looking shell-shocked. They hadn't spoken; Bianca had just shelved the thing, breaking out her homework and burying herself in it. Leticia was taking up the slack as far as dinner service went, and Miz Sharon was wandering back and forth... Everybody had heard, and everybody offered condolences -- but it was clear that they were more focused on her loss than Papa's death itself. He had certainly been unpopular... In the dining room, Armand put an end to Sharon's wandering, "Sit. They know more about this than you do. Eat your dinner, and worry about correcting deficiencies, rather than controlling the flow." Nate and Nora were at the table, Nora relating the status of Nate's mother and the gist of the run-in at his apartment... "Then we went downstairs and Nate..." She wasn't quite certain how to proceed. "I kicked George's ass. He gave them f--, uh, people the key. If that dude woulda touched Nora..." Jason handed one of a sheaf of papers he was going through to Armand, pointing out a paragraph. Armand grunted, looking up. "This George weighed -- what -- three hundred pounds?" "Yeh," Nate's eyes were hooded. "Mebbe." "Impressive." Armand allowed his eyes to dwell on the young couple a moment. "Very. Do you think he's going to let you continue to live there?" Nate shrugged. "Not like it's the Taj Mahal. We'll find another place -- mebbe one with fewer roaches..." He grinned, watching the women at the table flinch. Armand and Jason produced answering grins. Things got fairly quiet after that. Nora set a new precedent by asking her father to be excused, and the young couple went back to her room to do schoolwork and neck... ------- Bianca continued to hang out in the kitchen, long after dinner was over. Velma was fussing over her, and it kept her from having to face her mother, who was apparently back and forth every few moments over the death and it's implications, good and bad... Ed was there, too, hanging out for the second night in a row. What he was up to wasn't clear, but Velma wanted to give Bianca a little peace, so she lit him up, "Howcum yo' big ass is still here?" "My ass? My BIG ass?" Ed turned to Bianca, "She has to take three steps before hers even begins to move, and she calls MY ass big! If she didn't have those airbags on her chest, she'd have killed herself goin' through walls from the inertia!" "Three--! Airbags! Ah'm goin' kick yo' ass!" Velma rounded on Ed, snatching up a dish towel to snap at him. Ed hopped up out of his chair and dashed around the table as Velma hove herself here and there, trying to get a decent shot. Bianca broke up, laughing. Ed let her take four or five shots, then broke into the open. Velma closed in and let go another shot -- but Ed sidestepped and grabbed the towel, letting Velma pull them face to face. Grinning maliciously, nose to nose, Ed teased, "Guess you'll have to wear me out first...", then he danced back out of reach, unconcernedly walking to the coffee pot. Velma stood there sputtering. Lord, he'd been leanin' agin her whole fookin' front side! She mastered the shock and got moving again, just as he apparently unconcernedly sauntered toward the door with a coffee cup in his hand. "Maybe you can think of something for that..." Then he was gone, his chuckle echoing in the hallway. Bianca wiped her eyes. "How long has THAT been going on?" "Since yestiddy night. Ah dunno what the fook happened -- Ed nevah said shit to me befo'..." Velma shook her head. "We ain't said anythin' polite to one another, eithah, but..." "But what?" "Ah think..." Velma looked embarrassed. "Ah think I dared him ta fook me..." Bianca spewed coke all over the place, "What?" "We was tradin' insults all of a sudden, and I said sumpthin' an' he said sumpthin' and the nex' thing he was talkin' 'bout rollin' me in flour so's he could find my..." Velma rubbed her face. "An' I was tellin' him I'd have ta bolt my door or he'd be back..." Bianca giggled, "I thought they only did that in the movies!" "What?" "Pretend to despise one another until you fall into bed together!" Bianca burst into another fit of giggling. "Well, jus' in case, what'd yo' say his fook-stick looked like?" Velma was embarrassed, but she HAD to know... "Ummm." Bianca pictured it. "So long..." She marked a distance of about seven inches between spread palms. "Very hard-looking. Stringy. Veins on it. Head wasn't as big and mushroomy as some..." Velma settled into a chair, shaking her head. "Ah cain't believe ah'm askin' yo' dat..." "Well, he COULD be serious..." "Naw, he's jus' teasin'." Velma wasn't sure, though. "What if he isn't?" "Ah'm goin' get me some, by damn! Once, anyways..." She chuckled. "Like that's gonna happen..." "You never know..." "What 'bout yo'? Yo' movin' on Pete?" Velma eyed Bianca sidelong, grinning. "I, uhhh, no, uhhh -- I can't..." Bianca blushed scarlet. "Cain't jus' wave yo' tits in front o' him, eh?" Velma laughed. "Well, no..." "Mebbe yo' oughta go swimmin', Honey." "I... Maybe in a couple of days..." "Havin' a man be sure to take yo' mind off things... Ah'm sorry, Honey, but yo' Papa..." She shrugged. "Yeah, I know. But he WAS my Papa, nonetheless..." Velma nodded, and Bianca added, "Maybe you can show me how it's done..." "How WHAT'S done?" "Trapping a man..." Bianca grinned and swept out. ------- Charles was standing over the Wench in her quarters. "This last couple of days has been a mess, and things aren't getting any better. The Boss apparently has his heart set on you picking up after Sharon; I'm not sure what I'm doing around here." Since he appeared to be expecting a comment from her, so she intoned, "Master will provide." "I don't see how..." "Perhaps he'll have you participate in Sharon's training?" Charles blinked. "What?" "Master has indicated that he wants to broaden Sharon's horizons; he may have you help..." "Hmmmm..." "Charles?" Armand's voice erupted from the intercom. "Sir?" "Is the Wench with you?" "Yes, Sir." "I'll be along momentarily." In a few moments, Armand strode in, moving directly to stand over the Wench. "What is Sharon's state of mind?" "She's hung up, Master. She's gonna fight." "Well, we're going to make it first difficult, and then impossible, Wench. And YOU are my tool in this." "Yes, Master." "Charles, I'll need a pair of locking mitts, two sets of binding loops for a queen-size bed, and a six inch vibrator." "Sir." Charles had utilized his recent boredom well, inventorying the contents of the various toy boxes in the 'playroom'. He was back in no time. Armand handed the Wench the mitts. "Go see her at ten-thirty. You will tell her that it is my will that she get nude and allow you to put these on." "She'll buck and roar, Master." "I have every confidence that you will convince her that resistance is a foolish thing; in any case, I will be along, after." He spent several more minutes briefing the Wench -- and Charles, who was to perform a supporting role -- in their duties over the coming hours. ------- Scott wandered past Flood, deliberately allowing the smell of his slice of pizza drift past the big man's nostrils. "So, how YOU doin'?" "Fuckin' head hurts." Flood tugged at his bonds. "When you gonna let me go?" "I figured we'd hold you another couple of days," Scott replied, "until Tabitha Adams gets out of the hospital. Then we'll let her turn you into a girl with a paring knife and ride your ass wearing a strap-on until your eyes bug out..." "You--! Jeezus fuckin' Christ, Man! I jus' did what the Boss tol' me to!" Flood started trying to break the chair, throwing himself back and forth. "The Boss? That'd be... ?" Scott taunted. "Fuck, Man! You KNOW who it is!" "And you called some dude to work her over, but you don't remember the phone number..." "It's in my cell!" Scott went into the next room and collected Flood's cell phone. "Show me." He began flicking through recent calls. "That one!" Flood yelled, "Fifty three!" Scott believed him -- and was unsurprised. The support team had gone through Flood's phone hours ago, and that was the only number they couldn't verify -- apparently, it was a disposable. "Well, we'll see if we can get him to answer. Maybe he'll offer to take your place..." He walked out, into the next room where two others were watching Flood try to demolish the chair via video cameras. "Sedate him. We've got everything we need, but he needs to be out until tomorrow afternoon." The investigator in charge, an older guy named Chase, nodded. "I'm going to bed. See to it that Mr. Wilson gets all the video, as usual." "It's all in the can, except for that last bit," came the reply. Scott nodded; time to go home. ------- Chapter 29: Sharon Gets Some Training It was a bit after ten p.m.; the Wench moved quietly along the north hallway headed for her Mistress' rooms. Sharon as going to have to learn -- but she wouldn't, apparently; she'd had all the time in the world to, but she bucked Master at every turn. And he liked it that way, too, apparently... The Wench shook her head. Passing Nora's rooms she picked up a set of sounds that were indistinct, but identifiable, nonetheless. Well, she was a few minutes early... The main door to the suite was open, or she'd have never heard anything in the first place; the Wench cautiously stuck her head through and swept the sitting room. The room was clear; the sounds echoed through the door to the bedroom, also open, if only partway. The Wench crept to the door to the soft exclamations of, "Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!" that came intermixed with the slap, slap, slap, slap of flesh striking flesh. The Wench committed an eye, then two, and finally her whole head to the opening when it became apparent that the pair weren't exactly worrying about getting caught... They were on the bed, going at it doggy-style, both of their faces turned up, eyes closed as they savored one another. The smacks were Nate's belly striking Nora's plush ass, which the narrow black boy had big handfuls of as he rocked her back to meet him, controlling the stroke and penetration. Nate had a nice cock -- the length of the stroke told the Wench that it was sizeable, and from what she could see, it had a nice girth to it, too -- no wonder Nora was so taken with him. As for Nora, she looked a lot like her mother, nude. Wide hips and that incongruously big ass, decent-sized breasts that swung below her with the rhythm of Nate's pounding strokes; doggy-style could make Twiggy look like she had udders, but Nora's had that firmness to their jiggle that bespoke youth and firmness. Both were sweating, and Nora shook her head to flick damp, dishwater-blonde curls back from her flushed face as she panted in rhythm to Nate's pounding. Nate was working like a metronome, his tightly-muscled ass flexing as he drove himself into her with a steady, urgent, driving rhythm like the heavy beat of a Donna Summer song. As the Wench watched, Nora's face got even redder, and she hunkered down, dragging her nipples against the bedclothes while raising her ass to give young Nate an even better shot and increase his impacts on her clitoris. Her muffled grunts took on a rising note, beginning to sound inadvertently like a question, "Oh? Oh? Oh? Oh?..." Obviously, the sensations were intense; Nora's head began to swing back and forth as if she were listening for the rumble of her approaching orgasm. Suddenly, the Wench could see definition to every muscle in Nora's body as she went "Oh! OHHH!! OH, GAWD!!!" and drove herself against Nate, her hands clenching wads of the bedclothes. Nate continued somehow to pound, his jaw clenched, his expression wildly intent while the Wench watched Nora's belly flutter and her ass clench in powerful contractions. The Wench chuckled to herself; if Nora wasn't good in bed, who was? "Oh, God, Honey, oh, God..." Nora moaned, and Nate uttered his first word since the Wench had begun watching: "Four..." Nora was showing the effects of serious stress as she struggled to recover, moaning, "Cum, cum!" Nate grinned tightly; the Wench could see his pleasure at having reduced his woman to a submissive vessel, begging for his seed. The Wench supplied THAT thought -- it wasn't exactly how Nate would have expressed it -- but it was true, nonetheless. "Where?" he grunted. "In me..." Nora husked, "or I'll drink it -- but give it to me! I want you to cum like I have!" She took a breath. "Do my ass!" "Can't! No time! AaaaaaAAAAAHHHHHH!!!" Obviously, the idea had triggered him; Nora had better lay in some lube... Nate dragged Nora against him like he was trying to get inside, and the Wench watched his balls pull up and drop four times in time to the first big pulses of his ejaculation. Then he stretched out, his upper torso on his lover, rubbing her back with his hard hands as he braced himself, then shifting them to collect her hanging melons when he was flat atop her. "Mmmmmmm... You gonna give me that ass?" "Yes, Honey," Nora replied, her voice purring with satisfaction. "Let's just plan for it, though, please? I want to be... prepared..." "Sure..." Nate busied himself kissing her neck and shoulders, "Don' want to hurt you..." It was time to leave. The kids would start noticing their surroundings at any moment, and the Wench didn't need to be discovered as one of them. She backed out quietly and tiptoed through the main door and back into the hallway. After THAT a little cock would sure be nice... Well, nothing like looking forward a bit to the next item on the agenda... Sharon was working at her new desk in the room she'd taken as an office. "Oh, hi Felicia," she greeted, looking up. "Hi." The Wench laid the mitts on the desktop. "Master sent me." "Oh." Sharon's expression became wary. "How bad is it?" "I think you're done working for the evening," the Wench hazarded, then assumed a formal stance. "Master bids that you remove all of your clothing and allow me to put these on you." "Any idea why?" "I think he intends that you be unable to masturbate." "Oh." THAT would have been an idea, Sharon mused. She should have thought of THAT three hours ago! "And if I don't agree to do this?" "Master will undoubtedly insist, Mistress. He may require me to obtain assistance... Um, if he should, he'll probably add things..." "Yeah, yeah." Felicia was winging it, but she was probably correct, Sharon realized. She got up from the desk, resignation heavy on her shoulders. "You could always do as he asks..." "Demands, more like it. You're talking about the main thing, right?" "Yes. It won't kill you or ruin you..." "Maybe not, but this is our game, and he won't be satisfied unless it goes a couple of rounds. If I roll over on this, he'll find something else. Besides, I'm not ready to just let him have his way..." Besides, this didn't look like much... "Are you gonna be around to scratch my nose or whatever, afterward?" She began unbuttoning her blouse. "Yes, Mistress. I'll be spending the night at the foot of the bed." "Thinks of everything, doesn't he?" Sharon's voice was heavy with irony. She made her way into the bedroom and tossed the blouse in the hamper, following it with her bra. The Wench stood behind her, admiring her womanly curves; alongside Sharon, she might as well be a boy, with her model's figure. It seemed like everything that made a woman desirable, Sharon had a bit more of than most. The plush ass -- okay, it was too big, but too much was probably better than too little -- and the Wench would kill to have those big, round tits... Given the parameters of her basic build and the fact that she'd borne a child, Sharon should be HUGE, but she wasn't; her belly was just a bit rounder than Nora's (comparisons were easy, within ten minutes of seeing Sharon's daughter nude), her hips just a touch thicker, and the breasts showed a hint of sag that hadn't been apparent in Nora's, but that was age, not an indication that she was letting herself go in any way. The Wench didn't lust after Sharon, but she WAS oddly envious -- even Sharon's thin but untrimmed pubic bush differentiated them. In the meantime, the skirt hit the floor, and Sharon knelt to recover it, then stepped to the closet to mount it on a hanger; a couple of hours of wear didn't make it dirty. She'd have to get more; obviously, Armand wasn't going to put up with pants again... Turning to Felicia, he murmured, "Now what?" "These." The Wench extended the mitts. Sharon took one in her right hand and suffered the application of the other. The things were basically bags for a fist, with a strap attached at the wrist that could be buckled down and locked with a cheap, tiny lock -- which was OBVIOUSLY more than sufficient, once your hand was inside the thing. Once the left was done, the Wench went to work on the right, and Sharon was left looking something like a boxer. "What's next?" "Lie down on your back," Armand answered from the door, provoking a start from both of the women. 'Oh, shit!' went through Sharon's head -- but she had no choice, so she climbed on the bed without comment. Armand tossed a loop of rope to the Wench. "Run this under the head end, looping it once around each leg. Make it even." The Wench obeyed, hunkering down to insert her narrow body under the bed to get it wrapped around the leg of the headboard and awkwardly sweeping the long end out so it would reach the other. When she had the loops in place and arranged, Armand inspected, frowned, and reversed the loops so that the running ends were on the bottom and worked against the length extending between the two legs. "Okay, duplicate this at the foot," he directed, while he brought the end up at Sharon's right side. He said nothing, merely extended his hand; Sharon, knowing better that to argue at this point, gave him her arm. The ropes had loops at the end, their flow controlled by a plastic item that resembled two connected tubes. Armand adjusted the length and tightened the loop around Sharon's wrist, then moved to the other side. Sharon proffered her left arm without comment, and Armand spent several moments adjusting the running length beyond the tightened loop, then going back to the right side to tune it and balance things. It took about three passes before he was satisfied; then he produced a pair of flat clips that, applied on the side of the tubes opposite the loop, locked the arrangement in place. Having finished securing her wrists, Armand moved on to Sharon's ankles, making quicker work of them now that he knew how much slack to run. It was all quickly done; Sharon lay there, waiting, wondering what would come next... At this point, if she said something, he'd add to whatever he was up to -- and she was thoroughly unable to do anything about it, so it was foolish to provoke him. Armand stood at the foot of the bed, watching her for a full minute, waiting -- and Sharon held her mouth shut, resisting the impulse to allow fear to let her babble. At the end of it, he nodded, and handed the Wench a vibrator. "You have your instructions. Bring her to the edge, but no further; if she orgasms, it's ten with the cat -- understood?" "Yes, Master." "We'll continue with this per the schedule. The only time Sharon is allowed to acquiesce is at the beginning -- if she lets up during her extremity, it doesn't count." Turning his attention to Sharon, he clarified the situation for her, "The Wench will be using that on you at intervals all night. You can end the activity and obtain undisturbed sleep by acquiescing to her oral attentions at the beginning of any episode. There will be other entertainments, too -- and I warn you, I'll be upping the ante if you're fool enough to continue to resist until the morning! Do you understand?" "Yes, Armand." "Do you want to stop being foolish now?" Sharon pursed her lips and shook her head. "Begin." The Wench settled onto the bed and fired up the vibrator. The initial application told Sharon that this would be a long night; her earlier frustration, the inescapable stimulation of the device, and Armand's hypnotic gaze had her squirming almost immediately. It took only two and a half minutes before Sharon's knees started jumping in a pattern the Wench had recently seen in Nora, and she lifted the vibrator away. Armand, who had watched the whole thing, nodded at the Wench, "Very good. You may compose yourself for bed and await the next scheduled treatment." Sharon, frustrated beyond belief, groaned, "Armand! How many times?" Armand grinned, eyes flashing. "That would be telling!" He swept out, flicking the light switch. The Wench got up and went to the bathroom to wash Sharon's secretions off of the vibrator. Sharon lay there, listening, her nerves raw. This was going to be awful! It was pure, distilled Armand... "Felicia?" "Mistress?" The Wench stuck her head out of the bathroom door. "Could I have some water?" "Sure." The Wench filled a glass and brought it to her, cradling Sharon's head so she could sip. "I don't suppose asking YOU how many times will help..." "No." The bathroom light reflected off the Wench's teeth as she grinned. "I'll give you a hint -- it'll be more than once..." "Any idea what he has planned?" "No. But you have that threat. Somewhere in between, I bet he decides that you have to lick me back..." "Oh, Lord..." "I understand what you're up to, but you KNOW he's going to steamroller you..." The Wench shook her head. "I'm trying to hold a line, here..." "You won't." "It's the..." "... Principle of the thing," the Wench finished, "I know. Okay, we'll just deal with it. You know, though, you COULD fight the thing in increments, rather than losing it all in one fell swoop..." She put the glass on the night table and moved to stand at the foot of the bed, examining the floor. "Well, at least there's a rug..." "Felicia?" "Mistress?" "Think I could cover up?" "Hmmmm. In between, I guess it's probably okay. Gonna be a pain getting that stuff out from under you..." "I'd appreciate it." "Your wish is my command," the Wench chuckled, pulling pillows and working at the bedspread. "EXCEPT where it contradicts Master or Sir..." Moving things around took a good five minutes of uncomfortable wriggling and tugging, but in the end, Sharon was lying on a pillow and covered by the top sheet and a blanket. "That okay?" the Wench asked. "Fine." Sharon settled herself. Hopefully, the ropes wouldn't cut off her circulation. There was a bit of a draft at her feet, but... "Felicia?" "Mistress?" The Wench's undertone was just the slightest touch long-suffering. "Take a pillow. And the bedspread." "Why thank you, Mistress!" the Wench dimpled, collecting a pillow. "I'm sure Master or Sir would never have been so thoughtful..." "Well, it's okay, because neither of them denied you the right to comfort," Sharon replied. "Sleep well..." "You, too." ------- Bianca had a difficult time getting to sleep, largely because her mother's pacing the floors mumbling to herself kept sleep at bay. Most of it was in Spanish, and too quiet to actually understand, but the gist of it was a back-and-forth between the loss of her old circumstances and way of life (not exactly grief over Raoul, although it drifted there, occasionally) and guilty recognition of how convenient it was. Widowhood, in the old country, meant poverty, and relying upon the charity of others; ultimately, it meant death, sooner or later, if you couldn't attract another provider -- but that didn't apply here in the Estatos Unidos, did it? And, on the flip side, widowhood meant no messy divorce, no sordid explanations of why Raoul had left her, no excommunication -- well, at least until the birth of the child... That the baby inside her (undoubtedly a boy, although instinct was all she had to go on) was half gringo was going to lead to obvious questions; widows sometimes had to pay with this coin, but the timing was wrong, and anyone who could do the math would realize that she had fallen from grace. In fact, the ONLY way she stood ANY chance of avoiding the social implications of the child in the old country was to somehow convince Master to marry her -- and soon. On the other hand, Master was an infidel, not Catholic -- how much would it help? Besides, could she ever really return to the old country? Chattel slavery HERE was better than widowhood THERE -- and Bianca just wasn't raised to the deprivations... Mama went to her room and lay down a couple of times, but she was up in less than ten minutes... The thing went on and on until some time after midnight, when it finally stopped... ------- Jason had gone to bed of two minds -- he was alone for the first time in days, a comfortably familiar situation, but there was something about spooning to something warm and soft... Of course, it was bad for discipline to have the damned woman in bed with you EVERY night; the silly cunt (especially THIS silly cunt) would get ideas, and would have to be punished, (well, that wasn't exactly awful, either... ) This thought process didn't keep him awake -- it merely provided a final conscious background on which to drift off... But he came wide awake at one twelve in the morning, to the sound of a small clatter in the main room of his quarters. He listened intently, his eyes slitted in the glow the luminous numerals of the alarm clock, reflexively ready for combat. Whoever it was was moving very quietly -- he couldn't hear their step, but there was a quiet rustle of clothing. Actually, there was quite a bit of rustling... Whoever it was entered the room, and Jason went tense -- never before had he required a weapon in his quarters; if this skulker meant him harm and was armed, he was probably done for. He started surreptitiously preparing for a confrontation, moving his legs into a position which would allow him rapid movement. The skulker stopped, and a LOT of rustling ensued -- what the fuck? Oh! Maybe... Silence again -- but the top sheet and blankets were being slowly lifted behind him. He was either going to get six inches of knife blade in the back, or... A warm body with cold feet slid between the sheets and slowly cuddled up to him. Jason sighed. "Come around front. And next time, announce yourself, quietly, at the door -- I nearly killed you." "Yes, Master." Inez got up and came around to wedge herself in front of him. Jason wrapped his arm around his bed warmer and drifted back to sleep, Inez following only moments behind him. ------- "Wench," a half-familiar voice murmured, and a heavy hand shook her. "Mmmm?" "It's time for Sharon's next treatment." "Yes, Sir." The Wench stood and stretched. Charles went around and turned on a small lamp, then motioned with a jerk of his chin for the Wench to assume a position opposite him. Together, the pair removed the top sheet and blanket from Sharon while she grimaced under the light and draft. "Ugh! Gawd, that's bright! Can you turn it down?" Sharon complained. "No. Is there a better lamp in this room?" Charles replied. "Eeek!" Sharon thrashed, trying to cover herself instinctively. A man! Omigawd! "Relax!" Charles directed, "I'm merely here to supervise the Wench in the performance of her duties." "But I'm..." "Naked? Defenseless?" Charles smiled grimly. "Mr. Wilson felt that my appearance might up the ante... Slave training IS my job, you know." "I'm not a slave!" Sharon ranted. "You just keep telling yourself that," Charles replied, amused. "At this moment, from a training standpoint, however, your state isn't functionally any different from hers," he jerked his head at the Wench, "and maybe it's even worse, considering..." Once again, the head jerk -- this time at her bindings. Turning to the Wench, he directed, "Begin." This time, it took almost ten minutes for Sharon to reach the point where lust overcame embarrassment and took it as an ally, marching her toward her peak. Charles made it all the more difficult by wandering around the bed, assessing her state. He never touched her, but his eyes were bird- bright as he examined her rising color, elongating nipples, the flow of lubricant at her vagina brought on by the buzzing vibrator. Sharon had never been so embarrassed and humiliated in her life; despite any number of incidents in Armand's office under the eyes of other women, to be WATCHED like this, by a MAN... But the vibrator was relentless, the Wench was talented in its use, and Sharon was bound and COULDN'T escape (which added to the whole thing, rather than acting as a distraction); slowly, Sharon made the climb. It was wonderful, and it was awful -- but the worst part was, just as she could see the crest... ... The Wench, detecting her tension and the tremors in her thighs, removed the vibrator, just as Charles was opening his mouth to admonish her to do so. Sharon wanted to SCREAM! It was RIGHT THERE, but it was unattainable -- and the misery of the itch it left behind... Charles and the Wench were even careful in how they replaced the blankets, in order to deny her any excessive friction on her nipples from the bedclothes. The Wench made to head for the bathroom to wash the vibrator, but Charles forestalled her, with, "Lick it." The Wench did as she was bid, understanding the purpose of the instruction; she worked it lovingly, at close range, so that Sharon couldn't miss it -- even deep throating the plastic shaft. After a bit of this, Charles nodded; the Wench took the vibe to the bathroom to wash quickly, then returned. Charles placed her at the foot of the bed with his eyes, and instructed, "Call me if she needs to urinate, or anything. Do not attempt to attend to her alone." "Yes, Sir." The Wench settled to the floor. Charles turned off the lamp and stalked out. It took Sharon a couple of centuries to fall into a fitful sleep punctuated by odd dreams in which she was looking for something or other, buck naked and embarrassed -- but the whole thing was too short, anyway... The light flared, and Charles and the Wench were uncovering her again. Charles eyed her archly, "Well?" "Well what?" Charles didn't reply directly, despite the fact that Sharon was disoriented -- he merely waved at the Wench, who climbed on the bed with the infernal device in her hand. "Oh, God, not again!" Sharon wailed. The buzzing came up, and Sharon's clitoris started taking another round of high- speed abuse, varied with runs up and down her labia and the occasional dip into her vaginal canal. Charles watched this for a couple of minutes, watching Sharon's head flash back and forth as she tried to escape the intense sensations before the urge became insurmountable. Swatting the Wench on the ass, he grunted, "Kneel up!" Sharon, offered distraction, looked over at him, to discover that he was wearing black pajamas, the bottoms of which were easily removed by pulling a couple of snaps. The exposed erection wasn't the size of Armand's, but it was quite possibly a bit thicker. The Wench had knelt up immediately, but held herself semi-vertical until she glanced behind herself, at which point she grinned hugely and dropped forward, eyes sparkling. "Oh, thank God!" The Wench spread her stance and Charles stepped up behind her, and while Sharon was in a poor position to see the actual penetration, the looks on their faces was plenty revealing; besides, Charles put his hands on the Wench's narrow hips and began a movement that was unmistakable. While Sharon couldn't see the actual junction as the Wench was turned slightly toward her, she could see a bit of Charles' shaft at the far end of every backstroke. "Pay attention to what you're doing," he grunted while pounding away, his belly smacking the Wench's ass twice a second. The Wench applied herself, but kept getting lost... It didn't REALLY matter, though, as Sharon was hypnotized by the sex act before her, the visual stimulation more than making up for the Wench's intermittent attention. This time, Charles had to slap the vibe away when Sharon got close, because the Wench's mind was clearly on other things; freed of the distraction, the Wench went almost immediately into climax, dragging Charles along with her. Charles backed off almost immediately upon finishing his ejaculation, demanding, "Clean me!" The Wench whirled and took him into her mouth. "Easy, just get me clean!" he grunted, obviously over-stimulated, and the Wench backed off. In a few moments, he directed, "Okay, that's enough. Go find that damned thing and clean it off." The Wench did so without a word, and Charles came to regard Sharon. "Are you enjoying yourself?" "I think I've found Hell," she croaked. "Want some water? Wench! Water!" The Wench dashed in to collect the glass on the night table and made to offer it to Sharon, then thought better of it. "I'll go freshen this," she mumbled, with a slight grimace. "Water's only part of it," Sharon rasped. "This other thing..." "Getting to you, is it?" Charles grinned. "It's hard... Do you do that often?" "We're... getting used to one another. Your husband..." "Ex-husband!" "... Has made it very clear that for us to develop a relationship would be unwise, but she requires regular... exercise... and I can't say that I don't enjoy it." Charles was amused at the spirit evinced by the interjection. "That's the first time I've watched... someone else..." The Wench arrived with fresh water, cradling Sharon's head to allow her to drink. In a moment, Sharon waved her off, taking a bit of spillage. Charles waited until she finished before asking, "And did you enjoy it?" "Yeah." Sharon looked away, embarrassed. "Well, it probably won't be the last time..." He picked up the Wench with his eyes, "Let's cover her." They did so, again minimizing any friction with the blankets, and Charles turned to leave. "I'll see you again in a bit." The Wench turned out the light and Sharon listened to her settling again at the foot of the bed, while her mind replayed the vision of Charles pounding into her again and again... After a bit, she whispered, "Felicia?" "Mistress?" There was a stirring. "Don't get up. I just had a question... Charles isn't..." "Superman?" The Wench tittered. "No, he's quite average, and a little bit portly -- but there is more muscle there than is immediately apparent. Big men just tend to get rounder as they age... His equipment isn't impressive, maybe, but depth is for THEM, not US; he's plenty good enough to scratch MY itch!" She tittered again. "You had a good time, then?" "Very. This thing we're doing is almost as hard on me as it is on you -- I needed the relief..." "I'm sorry..." "Don't be. And don't think when the time finally comes that you're degrading me, or anything. I suck pussy because Master tells me to -- but I'd do it for fun, anyway, because I know it's not going to keep me from enjoying things like what Sir did to me. You worry too much about silly things..." The Wench yawned. "Anything else?" "No, let's try to get a minute's sleep..." It was rapidly apparent that the Wench's tension had been relieved; mere moments later, a soft snore began to sound from the foot of the bed. Sharon took a good deal longer to wind down, but it was late... It was even later when the lamp blinded her again. "Oh, Gawd!" "Sharon?" Charles asked perfunctorily, as they removed the blankets. "Hold it! I, uh, need to pee..." "Ah. Feet first," he directed the Wench. The pair undid her legs, then moved to Sharon's arms. Sharon found herself to be incredibly stiff as Charles helped support her into a vertical position. It was all highly embarrassing, too, having a stranger help haul her naked body to the bathroom. Charles waved the Wench in behind her as she settled on the toilet. "You'll need to wipe her. I'll be here, but I'll be checking to ensure the two of you don't conspire to do anything stupid..." Given the circumstances, Sharon was uncertain she could pee at all! The Wench understood, murmuring, "Shhhh, it's okay. Go ahead, I won't watch..." But Charles kept sticking his head through the door at odd intervals... Finally, she unclenched, and a little trickle began. The trickle became a flood, and even Charles peering in couldn't stop it. "Ohh, thank God," she sighed. "Ready?" the Wench asked, when it appeared to be over. "Uh huh." "Okay, spread a bit. Here we go!" The Wench dabbed at her with a huge wad of toilet paper. Sharon was so super-sensitive that the wad of paper buzzed her clit. "Ready?" "I guess." Sharon managed to get up on her own and head out while the Wench dropped the lid and flushed. Then she stuck her head out of the bathroom door, "I need to wash my hands, okay?" Sharon and Charles stood regarding one another; he nodded confirmation to the Wench, then indicated that Sharon should resume her position on the bed. Sensing Sharon's reluctance, he smiled grimly. "You know how to end this." Sharon's shoulders drooped, and she climbed onto the bed. By the time the Wench re-entered the room, both arms and one leg were secured, "Sir?" Charles sighed, "Begin." As the buzzing torture device began dancing on Sharon's clit, he added, "At some point -- and I'm not allowed to tell you when -- there will be additional requirements..." "Like what?" Sharon tried to concentrate, but the contact was fresh... "Reciprocation..." "Oooooh, boy..." God, why did she pulse like that? Did anyone notice? "Not yet, right?" "Not this time..." This was -- how many? Four? Sharon's mind was awash. How many before Armand stuck her face in Felicia's... Sharon's mind veered away from several terms before settling on 'vagina'. Not many, she imagined. The buzzing beast at her clit was irritating it -- but she was also increasingly sensitive and carrying the accumulated frustration of several missed orgasms... Charles noticed it first, "Sharon, are you close?" "Like... I'm... gonna..." she gritted before Charles snatched the Wench's hand away. "Noooooo!" "I just saved you from the cat!" Charles grated at the Wench. "Thank you, Sir! I'm sorry, Sir!" "Hmmph. Sorry isn't good enough. Lick that thing off, and stick it in your ass, then come over here and blow me." Damn him! He was as bad as Armand! He was going to make her watch Felicia do that stuff... Sharon had almost made it; she'd gone up the scale really quickly; now, there was THIS added stimulation... The Wench did as she was told, licking off the vibe and then turning and bending such that Sharon had a front row seat to her taking six inches of vibrator in to her anus. Then she knelt and released Charles' erection while he scolded her, "What were you thinking? Did you feel sorry for her? Would it have been worth the strokes from the cat? I ought to give you a couple to remind you..." "No, Sir, please -- she sneaked up on me!" The Wench gobbled Charles' cock, and he turned the system made by the pair of them so that Sharon could watch its length disappear and reappear between the Wench's lips. He held her deep, then released her, letting her lick and suck; the Wench acted like the fleshy shaft was a favorite lollipop, making slurping noises. Finally, he grunted, "All right, jack me -- just the tongue..." The Wench pumped his shaft with her fist while tonguing the tip for a few seconds before Charles gave a grunt and began to spew, taking over the grip on his cock to direct its delivery of semen to various points on her face. "Ahhhh, good. All right, then -- one with the cat to remind you. Let's cover her up..." The pair did so, and then Charles killed the lamp and led the Wench out the door. She was back in ten minutes, sniffling. "What happened?" Sharon asked. "I got two -- he said the first one wasn't hard enough..." "Let me see." The Wench turned on the lamp and displayed her back -- which had a pattern of stripes on it. "I'm sorry, Hon." "It was my fault. We'd better go to sleep." The Wench killed the light. ------- Jason awoke with a hard-on like blued steel; the time was indeterminate, however, because there was a lot of fluffy black hair between him and the alarm clock. The reason for the hard-on was obvious, too -- the crack of Inez's ass had provided a hothouse environment for its growth; was the dampness there pre-cum from him or was it coming from her? Questing fingers found a damp slit, but that didn't really clarify things -- maybe he'd started out between her legs... Well, it was irrelevant now, because that was where he was going! Jason tugged on Inez's hips to coax her to bend a bit more at the waist, then began working his hard rod between the damp chubby lips of her sex. Inez was having this wonderful dream of a long tongue working along her quim, then up the crack of her ass. The owner of the tongue was faceless, but she was pretty sure it was Master... Suddenly, the tongue stiffened and grew a head, like a cock, delving into her... Pleasure awoke her; strong hands held her hips while a cock drove into her center. A hand scratched her back, and a half-familiar voice murmured, "Are you awake?" "Mmmm hmmm..." "Bend forward some more, then, little puta, so I can get some purchase here..." Puta? That was 'whore' in Spanish! "Master? Puta?" She didn't have to see it to hear that death's head grin in his voice, "I went online, looking for... endearments..." Puta lacked something as an endearment, but, well, it was Master, all over. Inez looked at the bright side -- he was learning Spanish... Thrusts got more urgent, but they weren't satisfying. "This is too much work!" Jason complained. "I'm gonna roll over on my back; I want you to get your feet under you and ride me, understand?" Without waiting, he grabbed her hips and rolled onto his back, dragging her along by her hips and their connected sexual organs. Immediately, it became apparent that THAT was a mistake; the bitch was HEAVY. "Jeezus, hurry up and get organized!" "Dios mio!" The change in position was a lot harder than Master apparently planned for; just getting bolt upright was tough, and getting her legs worked around under her... "I'm not twenty any more, Master! Let me go so I can bend!" Jason did so, grumbling, but it was worth it; freed, she got her legs under her pretty quickly. But kneeling astride him wasn't going to work, either... "Squat, you silly cow! Here, let me help you with that big ass..." Jason waited while she shuffled her feet into position. "Okay, lean forward and brace on my legs, and let's get this thing in!" Inez reached down and grasped his hard shaft, directing it into her tunnel, and Jason began providing impetus using his hands on her hips, "All right, little puta, ride the pony!" "Uhhh, ummm..." THIS worked! Dios mio! Master was DEEP! Soon, the impacts of her ass against his pubic mound were bone-jarring, under the impetus of his hands and her urgency. The position, known to Jason as 'reverse cowgirl', allowed for a long stroke, and both of them milked it for all it was worth, Inez pivoting on her locked arms to raise and lower her ass, Jason's hands urging her on. Things went frantic quickly, causing her to wonder if her own breasts were going to beat her up, they were flopping around so -- then moved beyond, "AIIIIIEEEEEEE!!!!!" "Quiet, you silly cow! Want to awaken the whole house?" But he was holding her down, crushing her to him as her spasms milked his climax from him. "Ahhhh, damn! I'm addicted! You're going nowhere, you silly cunt! Understand? Your ass is MINE!" Inez hung there, pinned by his hands against the resistance in her legs. It had been wonderful, but there was a cramp coming on... Relief flooded her when he announced, "All right, we're rolling back over. Try to stay connected, this time..." She managed to roll with him, and listened contentedly to minor complaints like, "Christ! You're all sweaty!" while he snuggled back up to her; the hand that curled around to possess her left breast said that it was just noise... ------- "Oh, God!" The light had flared again; Sharon had been so far gone that she didn't hear Charles arrive and awaken the Wench. Now the sheet was being snatched away for -- what? -- the fifth time? -- and Charles voice rumbled, "Well?" "Get on with it." Felicia seemed to have her responses down pat; despite the fact that the vibrator was beginning to seriously irritate her poor clit, Sharon rose rapidly toward orgasm. She began to think maybe, just maybe... But the Wench, thoroughly vigilant due to her sore back, withdrew the vibe before Sharon reached critical mass. Charles nodded, glancing at the clock, "Ten minutes, then release her. It's time to get up, anyway..." "Auuugh!" Sharon glanced at the clock -- six-twenty! Had she been allowed to sleep at all? Certainly, Felicia looked no better, "Mistress, let's NOT do this again! Please?" Sharon lay mute in the face of the plea, but another night like last night? No... Felicia sat on the bed with her for the requisite ten minutes, then released Sharon, who went to the bathroom to splash water on her face, muttering, "I'll shower later." Then it was off to Nora's room, where her daughter slept soundly with her boyfriend's sinewy black arm draped over her possessively. "Time to get up, you two!" Nate flinched like he'd been burned, but Nora opened one eye, "Already?" "Already. You should have had MY night! Hurry up -- I've asked Velma not to fill you with cholesterol, but we DO agree that you should eat." Sharon rounded on Nate, "And that goes DOUBLE for YOU!" She swept out. "What the?" Nate blinked. Nora tittered, "She thinks you're skinny." "Huh!" "Well, you saw that spread yesterday -- you CAN'T eat us out of house and home, so you might as well not worry about it... Race you to the shower!" She lost, but it didn't matter... ------- BUZZZZZZZZ! "Jeezus! Kill that thing!" Jason ranted. Inez struggled up and fought with the unfamiliar device, unseating his still half-hard cock. Jason rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes. "I have to pee." Soft lips closed gently around his cock, and his eyes sprung open. Inez's face was serene... "Awright, just clean it up a bit and I'll use the toilet." Did the goddamn woman have to look so blasé? Would it even be worth it to try to shake that? Arrrgh! Cleaning him up was bad enough; things had gotten dry and flaky at the base of his cock overnight, despite the fact that somehow he'd remained largely erect and inserted in Inez's vagina -- which was a vast surprise... "Go get a washrag -- spit isn't going to cut it," Jason directed, and Inez toddled off. Jason came to life fairly quickly in the morning, but those first few minutes before he got his legs under him were usually miserable; even the feel of the wet washrag on his groin was refreshing. Inez looked up from her work, "I need to awaken Bianca..." Jason thought about it. "Do you have a robe?" "Yes, Master." "Let's see it." It was a thin, frilly thing in a yellow that pointed up her dark complexion, and it amused him. "Wear it, open. I want to see fur." He grinned maliciously. "Go! Hurry back, I may want you to wash my back!" "Yes, Master." Inez dashed out, her hands in her pockets pinning the edges of the housecoat in position to cover her nipples while continuing to expose her pubes as instructed. With any luck, it wouldn't matter... ------- "Wake up, Little Flower..." Bianca opened an eye and groaned; another school day... Mama was bending over her in that ridiculous housecoat she usually wore over her nightgown, smiling -- but there was no nightgown, and the thing was wide open, framing her hanging breasts, belly button, and a slick wet trail halfway down her right thigh... Bianca raised herself to bolt upright and murmured, "So you finally went to see Mister Jason?" "Yes, Love." "You're not very well-dressed..." "You know how he is..." Bianca smiled -- so THAT explained it! "Not as well as you do, Mama! You look better..." "I AM better, Love. Whatever happened... is not my fault. It's not Master's fault, either -- it's your father's fault. I... can't let it change things -- it wouldn't be fair to any of us." "You believe them?" "Si. For a number of reasons. Lord Armand was right; if he had felt that Raoul needed to be disposed of, he'd have merely had him killed or whatever, and our opinions wouldn't matter. The fact that he went to any lengths..." "The Wench says Miz Sharon is the proof; she insists that Miz Sharon wouldn't lie for them, even though Mister Armand basically owns her..." "I think she's right -- there's too much evidence. Besides, your father... He would have wanted to go alone to prove himself. And he'd have tried to kill the guard. It all fits." Inez drifted a bit. "Master's attentions are rough, and he's impatient, regularly angry, and a perfectionist. But I think he loves me..." "Yes, Mama." Bianca drew her mother's face in and kissed her on the cheek. "I'm up, now." "Okay, I have to go. I will probably get dragged around between Master and the breakfast preparations..." "Good luck! Don't flash anyone in the halls!" Her mother's face looked rueful. "I'll have to..." Bianca giggled and shook her head. Mama wasn't going to have any modesty at all if Mister Jason had his way... Inez failed to return undetected; Phillippe appeared in the hall as she hurried back. Instinct made her draw her fists together in the pockets, closing the robe -- but she knew better, so she slowed down and re-opened them. Phillippe grinned and grunted, "You need a trim..." -- and he goosed her, laughing, as she passed, but that was it... ------- Breakfast was almost 'normal' for most of the participants. Armand sat reading his various reports at the head of the table, eating slowly; Jason did similar to his left. The kids came in quickly and bolted cereal and fruit under Sharon's watchful eye, and the Wench knelt off-side, awaiting instructions while Inez and Consuelo went back and forth to the kitchen. Aside from the Wench, no one was dressed unusually; Jason had instructed Inez to dress normally and to forego baring her breasts in public, for now... As the younger set rose to leave, Jason did, too. "Nate? A moment?" Nate nodded and stepped aside with him in the hallway, and Jason continued, "Do you two have plans for this evening?" Nate flashed a glance at Nora, "No..." "Earning a few bucks seem like a good idea?" "Yeh." Nate nodded. After kicking George's ass, he and Momma might need it for a new place, for one thing, not to mention the fact that she was out of work... Jason gave him an address. "It's our distribution center on the east side. Show up at four, and pull a half-shift. Tell Mr. DiAngelo I sent you. To start, it's twelve-fifty an hour, Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday -- tonight's kind of a one-off. Make an impression, and things will get better, no doubt -- there's some turnover. Who knows? Maybe you can tell us why..." He glanced at Nora, then back at Nate. "Going to see your mother, after?" "Yeh, probably." "Velma will hold something, then, for dinner." "We'll eat together," Nora insisted. Jason merely nodded. The pair hit the door, Nora agitated. "He's up to something." "Nah. Your Daddy said he was going to point me at work, two days ago. It's not all jus' about cuddling, you know. People got to eat, too. I can't live here, and Momma ain't workin'... Your folks been more than decent, but your Daddy likes to see folk stand on their own; time I stopped livin' the high life and did some payback." "Well, maybe..." The pair got into Nate's rattletrap, Jorge having brought it around. It was warmed up, too, Nate noticed. "Thanks, Man." "No problem." Jorge flicked a two-finger salute past the bill of his cap. "My job." Once in the car, Nate continued, "You think after all he's done, your Daddy would fuck me over?" "Maybe not. But Jason might." "He's got better shit to do." "Well, okay -- but you keep an eye out. Too much has happened around here, lately." Nora leaned her head on Nate's shoulder. ------- Armand was voicing the same sentiment to Jason, "Things are out of hand. We need to consolidate things, stabilize. Lower the stress levels." He sipped his coffee. "I have the current project with Sharon, but I wish I hadn't bothered -- it's a bit close on the heels of Sunday's little escapade..." "There is the matter of Mr. Pinkham, too..." Jason pointed out. "Mmmm, yes. I believe we have everything we need to prove his culpability in Ms. Adams' attack. The question is, what do we do about it? I have no plans to become a pimp..." "Pinkham is talented," Jason pointed out, "a cut above. But monopoly might not be good for business. Maybe we should convince him that the carrot is better than the stick..." "Prostitution as a criminal activity offends me," Armand quipped. "Laws of this nature are the product of small minds. There are highly civilized countries in Europe where prostitution is a legitimate business -- America's Puritanism is backward, and reflects poorly on us." "The man still needs a lesson." "True enough. We'll instill some respect at lunch, and decide how to follow up later..." Armand sighed. "In the meantime, on with the next phase of breaking Sharon in..." "So, why?" Jason wondered aloud. "I want her to experience a few things, and be grateful for what she has." "That could backfire," Jason observed. "Mmmm, yes. Do you think Inez would pass up what she has with you for some vanilla character?" Armand asked. "Well, no..." "Same principle applies. If Sharon were capable of being cured of me, it would have happened years ago." Armand punched a button, "Wench!" ------- Fifteen minutes later, a somewhat haggard Wench planted herself in front of an equally haggard Sharon. "My Master bids you to permit me to apply his latest motivational torture." "Oh? What is it?" "I'm not allowed to say. You're to lift your skirt and close your eyes. It's NOT tongue..." "Is it gonna hurt?" "I'm not allowed..." "... to say. I get it. And if I refuse?" "I go get Sir and Master." The Wench's eyes implored. "Very well. Here?" They were in the middle of the north hallway. "Might as well -- it's quick..." Sharon looked around. "Oh, all right." She lifted her knee-length skirt, gathering it in the process, then stood there, eyes closed, expression reflecting martyred patience. "Could you, uhhh, spread your legs?" Sharon, sighing, did so. The Wench licked her middle finger to moisten it and swiped it in the vicinity of Sharon's clitoris. "Hey!" "It's only once -- and it was my finger. You need to be damp." Un- palming a small case, the Wench extracted a small sheet with her forefinger and pressed it against Sharon's clitoris, where the moisture immediately sublimed it. "WOO HOO!" Sharon screeched, "Good Lord! What was THAT?" "Breath strip," the Wench chuckled. "It won't hurt you, but your clit will feel like it's swinging in the breeze for a while." Shit! It was like menthol! Cold, yet burning... The heat just kept climbing while Sharon danced from foot to foot. "How often are we gonna do this?" she gritted, panting. "Every two hours..." "No!" Sharon grabbed her upper arm and propelled her forward. "Get going! My room! You're gonna lick that off! And then we're BOTH gonna take a nap!" Sharon followed the grinning Wench up the hall, walking spraddle-legged. Once in the room, Sharon started shucking clothing, "Help me out of this stuff -- the sooner, the better..." The Wench went to work on skirt buttons while Sharon got out of her blouse and bra. Everything went in a heap on the floor, while Sharon stalked toward the bed. In an instant, she was reclining on it, knees up, fanning, "Oooh, shit -- that doesn't help! Don't just stand there, get your tongue out!" The Wench grinned and climbed up between Sharon's legs. "Oh, no you don't! Flip around here -- and give me one of those damned things! What's good for the goose is good for the gander!" "Aww, c'mon, Mistress -- it's not MY fault!" "If I have to suffer, YOU'RE not going to get away with anything! Now give me those things and bring your butt around here!" Seeing that Sharon was adamant, the Wench crawled off the bed and collected the pack of breath strips. "Who's gonna put out MY fire?" she whined. Sharon sighed. "Maybe I will -- it'll give me a jump on Armand's next game... Hurry up!" The Wench gingerly handed Sharon the pack, "One's plenty." "Get down there, and lick it off!" Sharon pushed her. "And get into position!" The Wench moved into position over Sharon and began delving in the folds of her labia with her tongue, "Oh, thank God!" Sharon found herself staring up at the loose inner lips of the Wench's vagina. Well, she'd been in there before... She opened the packet of breath strips and retrieved one; the Wench was already damp enough. She pressed it into place... "Oooogh!" the Wench wailed. "God, that burns!" "You're damned right it does!" Sharon huffed. "Get it out of there!" "Do me, too, PLEEEEZE!!!" "Whatever. You're gonna have to take it for a bit, though, to make up for all the goofing around you did!" "Awwwww!" "Suck! I'm still burning!" In a few moments, things began to settle down for Sharon; Felicia's tongue-lashing made all the difference. She was jouncing around quite a bit from the application to her vulva, though, so Sharon nerved herself to return the favor. It took some effort -- in Sharon's book, this just wasn't something you did -- but she went ahead and pulled Felicia's... pussy... down to her face, getting a noseful of her aroma. The initial tongue application was pretty gingerly, which wasn't fair, really, since Felicia was giving HER a serious lashing -- but Felicia broke contact and moaned, "Oh, God, PLEEEEZE put the fire out!" so Sharon settled in. After all, it was self-imposed; she could have NOT used a strip on the poor girl, and wouldn't have been obligated... What had she been thinking, anyway? But the burning had settled out, leaving coolness behind, and pleasure began to suffuse Sharon. This made her work easier, as things Felicia did to her were indications that a return of the favor would be good for the younger woman. Sharon tried to concentrate on what she was doing, but bursts of pleasure distracted her, causing her to drift back and forth, remembering at odd intervals that she was supposed to be licking... Charles stood, unnoticed, in the open door. When the Wench hadn't returned immediately from her current mission, he'd decided to go check on things... He stepped away, and activated the intercom in the sitting room, announcing quietly, "I'm watching a sixty-nine..." "Oh?" Armand adjusted his monitoring gear. "All we needed was breath strips?" "I don't think so, Sir. I think Sharon figured she'd pushed things as far as she could before you would get impatient and add a new requirement." "Perhaps. Looks good from here. I'll play back the last few minutes' surveillance and make sure the silly bitches aren't in cahoots, but..." "Yes Sir. Should I hang around?" "Seems like a waste of time. Thanks for keeping me informed..." Armand disconnected. Charles lingered anyway, watching. If pressed, he could justify the monitoring by pointing out that this was a skill set that the Wench needed to practice, and he needed to evaluate, but it was more for pleasure than anything else. Charles was tired from the overnight, and had recently had sex, but watching Sharon's generous hips roll and listening to her muffled moans elicited a pleasant tingle. By now, both women had moved on to directly servicing each other's pleasure. The residue of several denied orgasms made Sharon hair-trigger, and the Wench's tongue was well-educated in clit-worship. Sharon really, really wanted a cock, but this... this was going to make it... The Wench licked a finger briefly and began working it around Sharon's vaginal opening, and the dam burst, Sharon rocking her pelvis up and screeching into the Wench's tunnel as her legs locked and the fireworks display went off. Positive reinforcement from her success pushed the Wench up the slope, allowing Sharon's more clumsy efforts to set her hips to dancing to her own sympathetic detonation. Watching Felicia's pussy pulse in orgasm from up close was an education to Sharon, who got the whole show from the rhythmic winking of her anus to the fluttering of her inner labia as her vagina pulsed and the clenching and unclenching of her taut belly. "Wow! Do I do that?" "What?" the Wench asked breathlessly as she flopped over on her side. "When you cum, your whole underside pulses!" "Oh, yeah, you do it. You get this hip roll, too, when you're finishing -- it's hard to keep up..." Sharon made to rise up, but she was leaden. The night, the almost- orgasms, and finally this completion had her wasted. Rolling over, she picked up the phone. "Mistress?" Leticia answered. "Felicia and I had a hard night. We're going to nap for a while. Wake us up around eleven-thirty, will you?" "Sure. No problem. Nighty-night!" Somewhere in there was a suppressed chuckle, but Sharon was too tired to follow up. The Wench began dragging herself off the bed. "Where are you going?" Sharon asked. "Back to my kennel..." "Don't bother. Bring the blankets up with you will you?" "Okay." The Wench settled herself carefully out of direct contact and began pummeling a pillow into a comfortable shape. Best not try to cuddle; Sharon was homophobic enough, already... Exhaustion claimed them both almost immediately. ------- Chapter 30: Let's Do Lunch... At school, Wednesday started quietly. The composite group had shaken out; everyone knew where everyone else was coming from and had global acceptance -- including Teddy. Darla Jean's mother picked her up at ten for her gynecology appointment. At gym class, Toby chided Randall, "So, how's Peggy?" "She's surprising -- but we agreed that I'm not her type," Randall replied, unaffected. "Maybe you ought to stop talking trash and find out yourself?" "Huh! Like I can't do any better?" Toby responded scathingly. "Jimmy! You keeping Toby's black book?" "Yeah!" Jimmy grinned, from the mats. He'd seen this one before... "Any pages in it?" Randall pressed. "Nope..." Everybody laughed and Toby went red. Randall turned to him and said, "YOU'RE the one who said it was better than some, and that missed pussy is irreplaceable. Of course, you'd have to be nice to her..." He eyed Toby sidelong. "Yeah, right. Heads up!" A runaway basketball flew past. ------- Tenisha cornered Mary and Nora at lunch, "All right -- you gonna tell me?" "Here?" Mary glanced around. "On the patio, then?" "Okay." The girls shifted outside, plopping at a picnic table that had seen better days. Tenisha flashed 'the look' and Mary got started, "Okay. Actually, YOU had something to do with it, too..." "Me?" "All will become clear... Nora and I arrived at the Prom with Teddy, which was convenient for everyone, since Teddy was scared I'd put a leash on him. But Teddy discovered a glory hole in the Men's Room, and staked it out. Pretty soon, along comes Stick, mildly lit, and apparently he finds the other side. So Teddy blew him, and then got out of there -- I guess Stick made some comment about dressing him in a skirt and keeping him for a girlfriend, even though they still hadn't really seen each other; you know how Stick can talk..." "Ooookay..." Tenisha gestured for Mary to keep it coming. "Teddy came back to me, for protective coloration, but was hinting that we ought to leave when Stick ambled out of the Men's Room and starts quizzing me about recent exits. When I pointed out that Stick had cum on his shoe, both of them freaked, and I put two and two together and got six. About that time, you monopolized Draper, taking Stick's ride away from him, and Nora collected Nate -- which left me alone with Teddy. So I blackmailed Teddy into giving Stick a ride, threatening to out him to Stick and reminding him that he REALLY didn't want to be alone with me..." Mary grinned ferally, and continued, "Once I got them home to my man trap, Teddy started sprouting serious chicken feathers, so I stuck a beer in his hand and he scooted off to the bathroom." "Man trap?" "I have a whole mother-in-law apartment over the garage for my bedroom. Big, private, and my folks USED to look the other way if I dragged some poor boy up there." "She keeps beer and porn flicks," Nora interjected, "just the thing..." "Wow!" Tenisha was impressed. "Well, I don't get much male attention that I don't work for directly..." Mary waved disparagingly at herself. "Anyway, I told Stick that I knew too much, but if he really wanted to know who the masked blowjob artist was, I could tell him -- for a price. Stick agreed, so I outed Teddy -- but I made it clear that if Stick abused him, I'd hang HIM out to dry, too! Then I threw a bi-sex flick into the video player and we dragged Teddy out of the bathroom." "So what was the price?" "I told 'em they could do whatever came to mind in privacy at my place -- but they had to have sex with me, too," Mary replied. "I figured one of them would eventually roll over, and I'd get a boyfriend out of the deal; one night stands hadn't netted me anything, so I was hoping that I was an acquired taste..." "How did that go over?" Tenisha asked. "Well, Teddy was lit on one beer, and the video player was showing a bunch of stuff he was interested in doing. It turned out that neither of them had actually had pussy, which helped; Stick was all in favor, and Teddy was interested, even though he'd almost convinced himself he was gay. THAT was the REAL issue; the guys AREN'T gay, but they're both horny little motherfuckers, and they weren't getting pussy, so why not settle for something else? That pretty much describes Stick's attitude at the time; Teddy's was a little more complicated, since -- well, YOU know Teddy -- is a Mama's boy like that gonna get a break?" "So what happened?" Mary shrugged. "Without giving you a blow-by-blow, everybody got a little piece of everybody else and we had a helluva good time! After that, we kind of figured that after a couple more outings, I'd pick one of them -- or vice-versa -- and the odd man -- or woman -- out would go looking elsewhere. I've dated both of them solo, and we've all been together a couple of times since then, but the expected thing hasn't happened. Instead, we're kind of stable the way we are..." "So, Stick fucks Teddy, and Stick fucks you, and Teddy fucks you... Does Teddy... ?" "No -- for a couple of reasons. First Teddy isn't psychologically set up to be on top, if you know what I mean. And second, Teddy has a really interesting cock..." "Huh?" Mary grinned. "Well it probably isn't any longer than you'd expect -- but it's almost all head and it's like, this big around..." Mary displayed its considerable girth by pretending to wrap both hands around it. "No way Stick is gonna hold still for THAT! I can take it, properly lubed -- Stick generally lubes me by going first -- and MAYBE one day I'll try it in the poop chute, but Stick? No way. He wouldn't be into it mentally, anyway." "What about head?" "What about it? You know Teddy blows Stick..." Tenisha just looked at her, waiting Mary out. "Look, does it matter?" "You're protecting him." "You're damned right! I think I'm in love with the skinny bastard!" Mary rocked back and sat there, shocked at herself. "Look, if either of them could do without the gay sex thing, it's Stick. He could walk away, no problem. But he hasn't, largely because I think he's a little fond of Teddy. Okay, yeah, he's done it, but only after I razzed him about how he wasn't giving Teddy anything and that wasn't a proper relationship. So I'm at fault for that..." "Okay. Didn't mean to put you on the spot." "Yeah, you did." Mary eyed Tenisha dubiously. "But either I can trust you, or I can't. I don't know what Draper will say..." Tenisha giggled. "Draper told me last night that he wasn't surprised at all. I guess the subject had come up before, and Stick had told Nate what he wanted to hear, instead of raising Hell 'bout how awful it was..." Nora nodded. "Nate had an absolute fit! It took a lot of effort to get his head turned around..." Mary nodded. "Nate's reaction threw Stick for a loop; he figured Draper would be just as bad..." The bell rang. "Oh, shit! I have to hit my locker!" "Okay, later!" Tenisha waved, Nora waved back, and the three of them headed in what were essentially three different directions, each in a hurry. ------- Across town, at Andrea's Restaurant, another lunch meeting was getting under way. Rodday arrived punctually, with two lieutenants, to find Armand Wilson already seated. Armand nodded at another table as he rose to greet Rodday; Rodday dispatched them to it with his eyes, wondering how many of the adjacent diners were Armand's people. Frankly, he'd have found the number scary -- it was two to one inside, with a support team in the parking lot that had Rodday's people outgunned, there, too. Flood would have arranged for more coverage, but Flood was missing... "Mr. Wilson. How nice to meet you." "Mr. Pinkham." "What can I do for you?" Rodday attempted to get right to the point. Armand, unperturbed, rolled over it. "Why don't we order first? The clams casino is excellent..." Armand kept the conversation off-topic effortlessly throughout the ordering process and into the appetizers, before reining things in, "So how is business?" "Good -- picking up, actually..." "I suppose the video is bringing you tons of new employees?" Armand's grin was malicious. "Uh, yeah. A piece of luck, that was, having that fall into my hands..." Rodday replied, but 'Oh, SHIT!' was the thought burning in his brain. "Funny that the perpetrator picked Tabitha Adams," Armand observed. "How do you suppose that happened?" 'He's toying with me... ' "Yeah. Odd, that." "Tabitha tells me that you had a conversation with her only days before about her lack of protection..." 'Aw, FUCK!' "Indeed. Well, I was making the rounds, generally -- can't say I actually remember." "I blame myself for not being more visible -- but she needed so little... I'm REALLY PLEASED that she wasn't killed; when my people catch the person who ordered this, he or she may even survive..." "Well, obviously, this guy was some kind of lone crazy..." Rodday was visibly sweating. "The man enjoys his work, but the video made it clear that he was a pro, operating under instructions. No, while it might be fun to drag him in, the responsibility lies elsewhere. I was hoping you might tell me where YOU got the video? Obviously, whoever gave it to you expected you to profit from it, so I can understand that you might be reluctant, but..." Armand's eyes told Rodday all he needed to know; this was smoke. Armand KNEW. Rodday could take the coward's way out and lie, or he could face the music -- he decided to do the latter: "I ordered it." "Did you investigate her claims at all? It wouldn't have taken much in the way of digging to discover a relationship between us..." "Would YOU? I told one of my people to have a look, but nobody expected anything..." Rodday shook his head. "I'm sure you'll have a talk with that particular employee on your return to your offices..." "Yeah." 'IF he ever shows up... ' Rodday added to himself. ------- At the club, Scott was grinning from ear to ear as he and Davis laid out Flood in Rodday's office next to his companions. They'd wake up in a couple of hours, but they'd remember this little incident for a LOOOONG time, thanks to Jason's suggestions involving their delivery. The fact that Flood carried keys to the club made things that much easier... ------- Back at the restaurant, Armand continued, "You know, you'll catch more whores with honey than you will wielding a big stick. If you were doing for them what you CLAIM to be doing for them, you'd have more voluntary employees. As it is, I can't stand behind the idea of your monopolizing prostitution in this town." "Whores aren't as profitable as drugs; there are liabilities." "True. And trash collection isn't as profitable as diamond mining, either," Armand observed, "but you can still turn a tidy profit. Prostitution is sales, and you're cutting your own people's profit margins and incentives by being grabby. Hookers have overhead, too; they have to eat, they have to buy wardrobe, they need medical support for their STDs..." Armand leaned back as the server arrived with his and Rodday's lunches. "It'd help if you were really protecting them, too. Volume ought to allow you to keep the vice squad in pocket money..." Rodday shook his head, "The way they're chasing me over drugs?" Armand shrugged. "You decided to carry that product line... Why bother with hookers?" "Ego, I guess." Rodday was almost relaxed. "Well, your lack of vigilance probably extends to other things. I wouldn't expect to remain a free man indefinitely." Armand leaned forward, toying with a clam with his fork. "Still, I have to tell you that I admire the finesse... The Tabitha thing was very well executed." "Thank you." Rodday was still smarting from Armand's observations regarding his operation's efficiency, but he needed to pander to the man's goodwill, apparently. "Drugs are also a problem because they promote the existence of an extremely violent distribution system. And, frankly, addicting your whores adds to the turnover; better if they're clean -- they have longer shelf-life and are more profitable if they aren't wasted husks," Armand observed. "Yeah, well, you get the same thing from gambling and loan sharking," Rodday replied, "and I need a hold on my girls." "Loyalty in your employees would be a big improvement over fear and chemical dependence," Armand returned blithely. "As it is, you're diverting part of your other product line to this support -- and you have to subsidize it because you've already robbed your staff of the ability to pay full price. I understand the company store concept, but the whole thing is inefficient. The girls have no incentive to work, doped up and too broke to make ends meet. You suffer from absenteeism, employee turnover is unacceptable, and the occasional untimely death..." Armand shook his head. "I know a fellow a couple of towns over who manages to handle the 'company store' angle solely from a rent money perspective. AND he owns real estate, AND he owns all of the strip clubs, AND he lures in new staff regularly to supplement a thoroughly loyal core..." Armand grinned. "And he owns the police department, lock, stock, and barrel, too..." "Interesting..." "Of course, he eschews the drug trade, because that draws Federal scrutiny..." Armand leaned forward. "You need to clean up your act. In the meantime, you will leave Tabitha Adams strictly ALONE -- or I will see to it that the consequences fall upon YOU directly. If, at some point in the future, the situation changes to the point that there is a benefit to her in being associated with your organization, we can revisit this conversation -- but I don't see that as a high-probability option." Armand leaned back and put down his fork. "In the meantime, I now have to subsidize her protection -- which may translate into the creation of more serious competition for your business, as she can't possibly repay me on her own. I haven't decided exactly how to handle that, yet. Last, but not least," Armand glared, "the current incident is not over. I have been ignored and treated with contempt. While I now believe it was accidental, that very fact reveals a dangerous weakness in your organization that I reserve the right to remind you of at some point in the future." He glanced at his watch. "I believe we're done, here. Enjoy your meal." He got up and stalked out, flanked by a couple of people that apparently appeared out of the woodwork. "Shit." Rodday grunted. "Now what the fuck..." "You okay, Boss?" Junior came over from the table he'd been pigeonholed into. "Yeah, for now," Rodday sighed, "Any word on Flood?" "Nope." "Boy has serious explaining to do." Rodday discovered that he had no appetite. "Let's go." He waved for the waiter. "Check, please." "Mr. Wilson has paid," was the reply. "Well, at least he's got class." Rodday led his people out -- and two more of Armand's people followed at a discreet distance. ------- "What the fuck?" Flood heard the voice and wondered vaguely what it was talking about. Slowly he swam up to consciousness -- why did his ass feel so... stuffed? "Flood, you wanna tell me what the fuck you're doing layin' buck naked on my floor with a -- what is that? -- CUCUMBER up your ass?" Rodday asked, dumbfounded. Flood looked around groggily. On either side of him, Jaime and Stretch were similarly undressed -- and similarly stuffed! "Ah, Jeezus this hurts! Fuck!" "Well, get it out..." "I... don't think I can!" "Well, I ain't doin' it!" Rodday laughed, "You three go to work on each other!" There ensued about a minute and a half of strained grunts -- and at least one scream -- before the three victims managed to extract their vegetable butt plugs. "Awright, now, where the fuck have you been?" "We staked out Tabitha's place, lookin' fer her boy, like you told us to," Flood replied. "What the fuck day is this?" "Wednesday." "Awright, so it was last night, then. So the kid, Nate, shows up wit' some white bitch, an' we corner him in the apartment -- but THEN musta been half-dozen motherfuckers unloaded on us... I woke up some fuckin' where, tied to a goddamn chair. They alternated bustin' me in the chops and pokin' me with a fuckin' needle..." Rodday grew grave. "Shit! Well, do YOU know who did this?" "No..." "Well, I do! Armand Wilson! Turns out the Adams bitch DID have a protector! Now MY shit is in the wind 'cause YOU didn't check her ass out properly! I just had a pretty fuckin' unpleasant lunch with him, listenin' to him tell me how I SHOULD be runnin' whores!" "Wilson? Fuck..." "Yeah, Wilson. The good news is we didn't ice the bitch -- Wilson apparently kinda admires the job the guy did -- otherwise, I don't know what the fuck he woulda done..." Rodday shook his head. "He's still rumblin' -- and I DON'T know WHY! What the FUCK could HE have in common with Tabitha Adams?" "I sure as shit don't fuckin' know..." ------- "Busy?" Matheson stuck his head in the door of Tabitha's hospital room. "I'm fuckin' bored to fuckin' tears!" Tabitha whined. "Lemme guess -- you found that crazy muthafuckah!" "Uhhh, no. Sorry! The guy is a pro -- he's not going to be run down any too quickly. What we DID do was confirm that Rodday called him in. Rodday sent three of his boys around to collect Nate -- but, well, there were six of us..." Matheson whipped out a photograph. There it was, in living color: Three of Rodday's boys, buck naked, with... "What the fuck did yo' put in they ass?" "Cucumbers." "Oh, holy fuckin' shit!" Tabitha cracked up. "Jeeezus! Ha ha ha ha..." She wrapped her arms around her chest, "Aw, shit, that hurts -- but it's SOOO fuckin' funny!" "We laid 'em out like that in Rodday's office about an hour ago -- while Mr. Wilson was busy giving Rodday a good talking to," Matheson laughed. "I don't think he's done, either. If you feel like riding Rodday's ass with a strap-on, all you probably have to do is ask..." "Shit, what a picture! But that'd just piss Rodday off an' he'd try ta kill me..." "Well..." Matheson shook his head. "I'm pretty sure that Mr. Wilson has convinced Rodday that messing with you is bad for his health." "Huh! I'll believe THAT when I see it! Some folk too dumb to live..." Tabitha shook her head. "You tell Mr. Wilson that this'll do it. I gotta live wit' the fuck." "Trust me, Mr. Wilson will make his point. You're gonna remain an independent contractor. Oh, by the way, you might have to move -- Nate beat the shit out of your landlord for giving Rodday's boy access to your apartment..." "Shit! I done missed THAT, too? Fuck me..." She chuckled, then eyed Matheson sidelong, "Speakin' o' fuckin' -- I wasn't shittin' you; yo' gotta unlimited account at Tabitha's..." Matheson laughed. "Don't tempt me. Besides, I'm just one of about six or eight guys in on this..." "Yo' point 'em out, Honey, an' I'll give 'em a dip -- but yo' kinda cute..." Tabitha batted her eyes. "I'm only human," Matheson chuckled. "You make offers like that, I might be tempted to collect..." "Y'all do that..." "So how are you feeling, really?" "Tits still hurt. Ass is better. Pussy is, too. Hospital food is godawful, but at least I don' hafta cook it. Fuckin' painkillers are keepin' me fum missin' the shit too much..." "Shit's bad for you." "People been tellin' me that for fuckin' evah, an' I'm still here..." Tabitha grunted. "You'd look better and feel better if you'd listen to 'em." "Look," she murmured, holding his eyes, "I got what they call an 'addictive personality'. I like ta feel good ever once in a while. Generally, I got good sense about it. But I cain't give it up." Matheson merely smiled. The 'painkillers' had other functions, too; Tabitha wasn't hurting that badly for a reason. Well, time would tell... "Can I get you anything?" "You done pretty good, Honey. I'm fine, fo' now. Don' hang it out for Rodday to chop off, now..." "I'll save it for you." Matheson grinned and walked out, leaving Tabitha chuckling over the picture. ------- "Miz Sharon?" "Mmmm?" Sharon roused to the diffident voice. "Yes?" "You wanted to be awakened before now, actually..." Leticia began, "but Charles called Mr. Wilson and he told me to push things off a bit." "Oh." Damn Armand -- always messing in things... Sharon was butt to butt with Felicia in the bed -- and in contact. Well, it hadn't hurt anything... "Felicia! Get up, Honey, and start me a bath..." "Mmmm?" The redhead rose up, rubbed her nose with the back of her hand, a move unconsciously childish. " 'Kay." She got up and wobbled toward the bath. Sharon glanced up, "Thanks, Leticia. Anything going on I should know about?" "No, Ma'am. Things are on track." "Fine. Oh, is this Velma's shopping day?" "Ummm. Might be. Wednesday? Yeah." "Have her stop by before she leaves, will you?" "Certainly, Ma'am." Leticia turned to leave, but wasn't too far gone to hear the next exchange. "Mistress? Want bubbles?" "Something. I smell like -- well YOU know what I smell like!" An answering cackle came from the bath. ------- "Robbie? Could I speak to you for a moment?" Millicent Graham's voice drifted in from the room that she styled 'the parlor'. "Yes, Mother?" Rob rolled his eyes and turned into the room. He didn't really have time for this; he'd come home over lunch to pick up his forgotten Civics homework. "I received a most distressing telephone call today from Claudette," Millicent murmured before glancing back down at her knitting. "Yes, most distressing." Mother's gift for melodrama was legendary; she styled herself a southern belle -- and she was deep into it, at this point... "Really?" Rob replied. "She tells me that you've stopped seeing her and taken up with some slut..." "Oh?" Rob returned blithely. "That's interesting. Until last week, the girl she described to you as a slut was one of her inner circle..." "When did this all happen?" Millicent asked. "It happened at the Prom, Mother." "You all made such a fine-looking couple..." "That was the problem, Mother. It was all looks." "Oh?" Millicent looked up. "I don't understand. I figured that you two would be a couple right through college..." "Mother, Claudette wasn't going to stay with me through college. The only reason Claudette wanted to be around me was because I'm popular. Here, I'm a big fish in a small pond; in college, though, I won't be the top dog. Claudette would have hit the road as soon as she found a higher-class ticket on the gravy train." "Oh, come on, now, Son. She was all over you!" "Only in public, Mother. In private, she wasn't interested." "You're your father's son; surely, you could woo her..." Mother eyed him sidelong, her eyes revealing that she KNEW he kept those tools honed. Robbie sighed. The fact was, Mother resembled Claudette all too closely. How Dad had managed to get Mother pregnant with him was a mystery. Certainly, they hadn't had sex in a decade... "Nope. All Claudette wanted was for us to look like the perfect couple. She had no interest in a REAL relationship..." "Real?" Millicent taunted. "Like those other girls you've been seeing? That kind of real?" Rob sighed. "In its own way, that stuff wasn't any more substantive." "Hmmph. Let your father know, will you?" Millicent sighed. Donald Graham had a steady flow of women in and out of his bedroom, and it was a source of continuous embarrassment to her. On the other hand, they kept her from having to sully herself... "Besides, you miss the point, Robbie. Is this new girl just another slut?" Rob rolled his eyes. "No, Mother -- she's just unwelcome competition for Claudette, who I'd already split with, by the way, when we got together. I'm sure that once you see her, you'll approve of her." "Whom, Dear." Millicent continued to hold her son's eyes. "Must I drag it out of you? Are you or are you not sleeping with this girl?" "Mother! Please!" "You are, then." "That doesn't make Claudette right! Most of the girls I've... been with... have been willing to provide sex up front to be Rob Graham's girlfriend -- which, frankly, is more than Claudette ever did. Her basic idea was that I benefited just from being seen with her -- like THAT was huge, or something..." Rob shook his head, angrily. "Mary and I moved relatively slowly to this point, having been together a lot. I like being with her, with or without sex. And if Claudette weren't making noises about it, the fact that we're dating wouldn't even be public knowledge!" "So then you're ashamed of her?" Millicent probed. "Not at all!" Rob countered. "We're just not in it for the publicity, like a pair of movie stars just before their latest movie gets released. Mary is a very popular girl, in her own right -- but we're focused on US, not other people. I've seen the results of THAT!" "ROBBIE!" Millicent shrieked, stung. "I won't tolerate such accusations! I'm your mother!" Rob sneered. "Then be careful what you say about my girlfriend! At least she wants ALL of me, not just my face, or my money!" He stalked out, fuming. Mother probably got pregnant with him just to consolidate her hold on Dad, now that he thought about it; the realization had been hanging there, at the edge of his consciousness, forever, but this surfaced it -- and all of the little digs about following in Dad's sexual footsteps made sense... Well, he knew what he wanted, now. If things didn't work out with Mary, at least he was pointed in the right direction. But things WERE working out, for now -- and he was determined that time-wasting showoffs like Claudette and his mother would not interfere... ------- Darla Jean got back to school right after lunch; she could have stayed home, but making Dwayne fumble basketballs was fun. Besides, there was something empowering about having a pack of birth control pills in one's purse, even if they hadn't really taken effect yet... In the hallway outside his sixth period class, Darla Jean decided to see if she could make Dwayne drop books, too. Checking to see that her new pink midriff top was doing its job, she sidled up behind Dwayne, "Hi, Dwayne." Almost. He jumped, visibly, and fumbled a bit. "Hi, Darla Jean. What's up?" His eyes took in the top, and what it exposed. There was a bra there, and nothing really huge underneath, but it was more visible than usual, by a good bit. And there was that strip of bare flesh below... "Oh, nothing. Just thought I'd say hi..." She wasn't REALLY very good at this... What kind of come-on SHOULD she have used? It was good enough, though. "Say, do you think we could maybe get together some time?" Dwayne blurted. "Oh, I don't know. You're awful busy, what with basketball and all..." "Maybe after practice? You've been coming, after all..." "We'll see. I have to check on my homework. I'll know by then." "Okay..." Wow! That'd been pretty easy. Maybe Ted was right -- maybe Darla Jean was just ready... ------- "So, Peggy. Randall?" Louise Bryant asked the question, but there were eight other girls in earshot. Peggy raised her hands. "Yes. And no." "No?" Peggy shook her head. "He's... too much. Here," she pointed to her temple, "and, weirdly, here..." She rubbed the crotch of her gym outfit. "I'm gonna be bowlegged for a week. It's great, but..." She shook her head; stunned chuckles erupted here and there. Most of the other girls just couldn't believe it... Darla Jean hung back, soaking it in. It looked like a quiet conversation with Peggy was in the cards... It took a few minutes, but she managed to get Peggy basically alone, "So what happened?" "Ummm, the short version is he didn't fit. I guess maybe I'd have stretched, but he's also got a lot of stamina... It was just too much." "That's pretty wild," Darla Jean mused. "So, how would you classify him, in general?" "He's great! I still want him to tutor me, and I want to be friends -- but I think we'll leave sex out of it." "What did he think of that? I can't see a boy just..." "No, he was okay with it." Peggy blushed, "I guess I wasn't the best ride he'd ever had..." She shook her head. "If he goes without for a while, I imagine he might come back for a rematch -- I would if I was him. Depending on how things are going, I might offer him something -- but long term, we don't have a future. In the meantime, maybe I'll get a little word of mouth advertising from the deal..." Gazing at Darla Jean, she added, "He's a seriously undervalued property -- but then you know that, don't you?" Darla Jean said nothing, merely shrugging; that's what she was trying to figure out... ------- Basketball practice found her in the bleachers, doing homework. Dwayne, having been seriously badgered by Coach Ellis for having his head up his ass, was working hard at not being distracted by her presence -- a process aided a bit by the fact that he now KNEW she was there for him and they had more to go on than just staring at one another. Ted tried to haze him anyway, "Hey, your girlfriend is in the bleachers!" "Good. Where's yours?" "What?" "I don't see any chicks there watching YOU!" Dwayne put a point on the barb. "Maybe SHE is..." "Nope." "Huh! YOU don't know that! You'd have had to talk to her!" 'And you got no guts, ' came across without being said. "I did. She's waiting for me to get out of practice, then we're going somewhere," Dwayne replied, matter-of-factly. Ted took a ball in the shoulder, in the midst of saying, "Bullshit!" The ball bounced into the hands of a defender, and women took the bench as a subject while they rode out the mistake -- including another harangue from Coach, this time directed at Ted. Darla Jean, for whom the entire episode was a bit too distant to make out, had her attention drawn elsewhere: Mary Eikenberry came in, obviously fuming. "What's up, Mary?" Darla Jean asked, wondering just how she'd suddenly become Mary's friend and confidante. "That gold-plated BITCH Claudette called Rob's mother, whining about being dumped -- and she called me a SLUT!" "Shhhh! Stuff echoes in here!" As it was, a couple of boys were looking up. "Sorry! She just... sucks! I never realized..." Darla Jean shrugged. "She's a classic -- and you were in. Now you get to see how the other half lives." "Rob says his mother is a carbon copy of Claudette -- or maybe vice- versa. And he made some admissions that didn't help my case..." "Oh?" "It's hard to defend yourself from charges of being a sexpot..." "... When you're being one?" Darla Jean's eyes twinkled, but she wasn't accusing. "Well, it's no secret he's good! Some of Claudette's popularity stemmed from the idea that Rob kept her around, which meant SHE had to be, too -- but it didn't work that way; she wasn't giving him as much attention in private as she was in public! Me, I... well, he rocks my world! I'm addicted! We started out slow, but now that it's happened, I, well, I can't do without..." "Aren't you worried that you'll end up in Bang Nation?" Darla Jean asked. "Well, it could happen -- but Bang Nation shakes out pretty quickly. I didn't start out waving my tush under his nose, so I think maybe I'm a little less one-dimensional..." "How many dates?" "Well, it didn't start out as something you'd call a date. We'd meet somewhere and just talk about something -- not planned -- in the caf or somewhere. Rob did a lot of bitching about Claudette, and I started out defending her -- but his viewpoint made me take a step back. After the blow-off Prom Night, he wasn't exactly in a mood to be romantic, but he moved on to other things. We started spending a lot of time together, but I don't think we DATED until last Friday or so. Once I had his full attention, though, well, I just couldn't defend myself -- and I didn't WANT to..." Darla Jean pretended to evaluate things. "I still think you probably get constructive credit for three dates. AND for being a friend, first." Mary smiled. "Thanks!" "Do you get the feeling that Rob's mother wields any undue influence?" Darla Jean asked. Mary took a moment to decipher this. "Ummm, no. Quite the opposite, in fact, I think. But we probably won't be going to his house to neck any time soon..." "It'll blow over," Darla Jean offered. "Ride it out." "Well..." Mary sighed. "Jeep seats suck..." Both girls giggled. "And Dwayne?" Mary changed the subject. "We have some sort of vague plans for after practice," Darla Jean replied. "A clear sign of inexperience," Mary advised. "If Dwayne was the stud he thinks he is, he'd have something specific planned that SOUNDS innocent, but allowed him a set-up..." She paused. "He's just a notch in your lipstick case, right?" Darla Jean nodded. "Unless he turns up something incredible, I'm just getting course credit in comparative biology." "How long are you gonna play him?" "Not long; doesn't seem fair." "You'll get an AWFUL rep, guaranteed!" Mary admonished. Darla Jean shrugged, "It'll just make next time easier..." "Well, maybe..." Mary looked dubious. "Believe me, I don't have some of your visible assets; the demand won't be THAT big," Darla Jean argued. "Besides, I'll probably end up hunting in the Brain Trust again at the end of it all, and a certain lack of chastity will help make me approachable." "Geeks?" "You'd be surprised. Ask Amy Kelleher. Or Mary Nally. Or even," Darla Jean smiled to herself, "Peggy Ellis. Besides, I have to be able to carry on a conversation with them OUTSIDE a bed..." "Yeah, I can see that," Mary agreed. "Not for me, but..." "It's just another reason for me NOT to take on a jock," Darla Jean asserted. "His ego would be all bruised when he discovered that I can out- think him." Mary giggled and settled in to watch Rob. ------- The limo picked up Nora after school; Nate drove his rattletrap to the warehouse district. He wasn't thrilled at this development, because he didn't know exactly where things were going, but he had to do a day's work SOMETIME, and given the way things were with Mama, the sooner the better... Besides, Nora's Daddy was big on self-reliance, and sucking off him too much would ruin his good impression; no, unless this job thing was crap, this was the thing to do. The architecture of the east side of town was strictly utilitarian -- there was nothing particularly exciting about the warehouses and manufacturing buildings. Nate knew that sometimes drug dealers and fences scheduled their meets in these nondescript surroundings, since they tended to be deserted after business hours, but it was still early, and therefore relatively safe and mundane. He parked in the parking lot beside the address he'd been given and went around to the front door to knock. Knocking didn't work -- he tried five times. Ringing the bell didn't work, either, so after the second time, he circled around back to the loading dock. Here, things were happening; trucks were being loaded and numerous people were moving back and forth. Nate went up the stairs at the side of the dock and was immediately accosted by a portly, balding man in a vest, "Who the fuck are you?" "I'm, uh, looking for Mr. DiAngelo..." "Okay, so?" The man sported a cigar -- probably why he was standing on the dock, since he didn't seem to be lugging anything. "I'm Nate Adams..." "Adams..." The man frowned pensively, then turned and yelled inside, "Stella! Who the fuck was at the door?" "That was me..." The man grunted and bellowed again, "STELLA!" "What?" A heavyset Italian-looking woman stuck her head around the corner. "I hadda pee! There ain't nobody there, now!" "Well, fuckin' tell somebody next time, so I can cover the fuckin' door!" The man turned, fuming, "Fuckin' women and their weak goddam bladders..." Changing focus, he rounded on Nate. "I'm DiAngelo. Hmmph. And you're this Nate Adams." He ran his eyes up and down Nate's narrow frame. "Kinda stringy, ain't ya?" "I do okay," Nate replied, mildly miffed. "Yeah, well, we'll see, I guess," DiAngelo replied. "Word came down about six levels that I'm to try you out. Who the fuck did YOU kill?" "Huh? I, uh..." "You got friends in high places?" "Well, sorta, I guess. Let's pretend I don't..." "If I did that, two of the boys woulda thrown you off the dock by now!" DiAngelo returned jovially. "Okay, tonight's a one-off. I need half a shift outta you Tuesday and Thursday, and a full shift either Saturday or Sunday during the day -- IF you show me something! Pays twelve-fifty an hour, and I hear you're in the system somewhere already. What did you fuck up before coming here?" "Nothing," Nate replied. "I guess this is a case of justifying being on the payroll..." THAT got him a look. "Awright." The little shit didn't want to tell him, and orders were orders, anyway... "Roland!" "Boss?" A big black with his left arm in a cast looked up from trying to muscle a hand truck one-handed. "The runt, here, rides with you! Stay off that fuckin' arm! I don't want you totally off work, you stupid fuck!" DiAngelo ranted. "Awww, fuck! This comin' outta my end?" Roland groused. "Nope, it's a freebie! Show Nate, here the fuckin' ropes. And don't dick him over, there's plenty of work around here!" "Awright! Shit! 'Roland, train the newbie!' 'Roland, we're done with your tired ass, the newbie gets your job... '." The big man OBVIOUSLY wasn't happy... "That don't sound too good," Nate noted. "Dumbass has got six kids, by two different mamas. He's been killin' hisself trying to feed alla his brats. Now he's worried the likes of YOU will replace him!" DiAngelo shook his head. "Ummm, I can't drive a truck..." "Yeah, that's right... Roland! Shut up, you fuck -- the kid can't drive! Teach him how to load and unload and stop your fuckin' bitching!" "Awright!" Roland eyed Nate truculently. "You comin' or what the fuck?" The next three and a half hours were extremely busy, with Nate wheeling the hand truck and learning the ins and outs of load preparation for efficient delivery to several sites, gems such as, "You stack that there an' I GUARANTEE it'll fall on your ass!" and "How you gonna get at the ham if you stick all the bacon in front of it?" or "You gotta run the pre- packaged shit outta the side door -- unless ya want to haul carcasses over the fuckin' top of it!" Nonetheless, the irascible Roland slowly warmed to him with comments like, "You're gettin' over, kid -- DiAngelo usually makes 'em spend their whole first shift with a hook in their hand," and "Don't lift like that, you stupid fuck! You'll bust a gut and won't be able ta use your dick for a month!" One oddity was the size of the deliveries; they made four, and the two to 'Mom and Pop' outlets turned out to be larger than those to the chain groceries. "Why aren't we doing bigger loads to the big groceries?" Nate asked. Roland shrugged. "Dunno. We're not gettin' shelf space. I figger someone is gettin' paid off, but the head shed says that contracts are 'bout the same as everyone else, an' volume is good other places..." "It's local, then?" "Mebbe," Roland went back to shredding the end of his cigar. Things seemed to be worst at the chain grocery in Nate's old neighborhood. Nate decided he'd pay the place a visit, sometime. He, personally, didn't buy much meat there, preferring the small place up the road, having been burned a couple of times by spoilage... They got back with about twenty minutes to spare, and Nate was introduced to the intricacies of cleaning a refrigerator truck. Fortunately, they had good rain gear, and he managed not to get soaked too badly -- except for one almost certainly deliberate shot from Roland, if you read the grin on his face, rather than the lackluster apology. "Ya done good, Kid," Roland begrudged him a grin. "Let's go see ol' Noisy..." When they got to the office area, however, the blinds were drawn, although there were muffled noises with a suspicious rhythm... Roland chuckled. "It'll be a little bit -- 'Big D' is pronging Stella again..." "Oh?" "Yeah. Stella is whatcha call a 'fringe benefit'. She's the world's slowest fuckin' typist, an' she can't add, but DiAngelo's ol' lady sewed her pussy shut a long time ago, an' he likes his wit' some meat on it. Stella's single an' she needs the work -- an' besides, she likes ta fuck -- he ain't holdin' nuthin' over her head, or anything. She can walk any time -- but then she'd hafta find a new job AND a new dick." He waved it away. "They're made for each other." "Anybody complain?" "What for?" Roland shrugged. "Work gets done, eventually. 'Sides, Stella only lets DiAngelo prong her, but she loves to suck cock, and DiAngelo likes to watch her do it. Any time one o' us gets a little hard up, we jus' walk in an' let Stella vacuum it out..." He rubbed his stubble, "Great thing when the ol' lady is on the rag an' too uppity to handle it herself... Go ahead, get you some!" "Nah. I gotta steady girl an' I don't want to fuck it up," Nate related. "How's she gonna know?" "I'D know. No, I got it good right now -- no way I'm fuckin' up what I got runnin'." "Whatever..." Roland gave him a look that categorized him as young and stupid. "Ever had white pussy?" "Well, yeah, as a matter of fact..." Nate's grin said it all. "WELL!" Roland laughed. "NOW shit makes sense!" He scratched his beard. "They gonna be at it a while -- Boss likes to get two nuts. Might as well bust in..." He popped open the door, "Yo, Boss!" "Yeah?" DiAngelo puffed. He had the heavy brunette, Stella, bent over the desk facing the door, obviously going to town, doggy style. Stella was still basically dressed -- he'd merely flipped up her skirt, apparently -- as she leaned on her elbows, looking pink-faced and wild-eyed, obviously well on her way to an orgasm. "Kid's a good shit, Boss," Roland rumbled. "You payin' him by the night?" "Naw, I'm puttin' him on the payroll, if you're passing him," DiAngelo replied. Turning his limited attention to Nate, he asked, "That cool with you?" "Yeh, fine." The work wasn't incredibly easy, but it wasn't that hard, and the salary wasn't that bad, either. "Mebbe we should leave?" "Nah," DiAngelo demurred, "it's okay. Stella only gets hotter when she's watched, don't you, Sweetmeat?" "Uh... huh," Stella gasped out between strokes. "If you want some head, young stuff would be a treat for her," DiAngelo offered. Stella nodded, eyes wide as she gazed at him. Nate grinned. "No offense, but I've got my own, and she'll want all I got when I get home..." DiAngelo eyed him for a second. Orders to hire the kid had come down from on high -- maybe he was a spy? Naw, the Boss didn't care if he knocked a piece off of Stella, as long as she didn't get pissy about it -- and Stella had wrapped her lips around just about every cock in sight... "Well, it's around -- and it's white..." "So's his, apparently," Roland chuckled. "Oho!" DiAngleo grunted. No wonder the kid was passing up the likes of Stella! Roland ambled forward, "Hey, Stella, want me to milk your jugs a bit?" " 'Kay," Stella puffed, spreading her elbows so her sizeable jugs were better accessible through the neckline of her blouse. "You saving yours for Mama, too, Roland? How many more kids you want?" DiAngelo asked. Roland, already unbuttoning her blouse and working his hands in to get at the clasp of her bra, chuckled. "I guess you could suck the potent stuff off the top, bein' you're all eager..." Nate watched him take a fat brown nipple between thumb and forefinger and start working it. Stella started digging in Roland's work pants, then looked up at Nate. "Can you watch?" Nate frowned, thought about it. "Yeh, I guess..." The look on the big brunette's face was something; she was digging for Roland's meat like she hadn't eaten in days, while moaning, "Uuuuuhhhh, yeah! Like that!" and driving herself back toward her rotund boss. When Roland's cock appeared (apparently, it had snagged on his shorts), Nate judged it to be about the same length as his, but a bit thicker. Stella went "Mmmmmm!" and started immediately absorbing it, engulfing the head with her lips. DiAngelo managed to sound almost conversational as he grunted, "Stella's a slut. She was a good Catholic girl until she was almost thirty, when she finally discovered what she was missing. Now she's tryin' to make up for lost time..." Stella started going, "MMPH... MMPH... MMPH..." around Roland's thick black cock, so DiAngelo let go a series of rapid-fire strokes. Stella's face went cherry red and her eyes glazed while she shook like a leaf for a long moment, then she went "Ummmm," around Roland's cock and started bobbing on it again. DiAngelo settled back to a more leisurely pace. "She loves bein' told what a slut she is, in the nastiest way possible, and she likes to be watched..." He swatted her on the ass, "C'mon ya scuzzy bitch! Milk my dick with that fat pussy of yours, or I'll stick it in your ass!" Nate scratched his head a bit. "Okay." He circled around to stand beside Stella at the head end and made a production of getting a close-up of her vacuuming Roland's cock. Roland had a hand behind her head and was driving deep, apparently going right for the throat. Stella started shifting her eyes between Roland's and Nate's... Nate had spent some time before meeting Nora perfecting what he liked to call his 'rap'. It had been designed to make him sound worldly and rope in women with greasy compliments and double-entendres -- but it had design flaws as he had invariably let go with something insulting. Since Nora, he'd let the thing go as useless, but maybe it'd work, here -- especially since compliments, per se, didn't seem to be what was being asked for... "You be a slut all right. You'd be surprised -- I know somebody that turns 'em out regular and keeps 'em runnin' nekkid through the house, and you," he made an exaggerated examination of the woman, "you be definitely a slut!" Warming up, he went on, "You like that? You like havin' ol' Roland shove his monster meat down your neck? You like suckin' the juice outta black cocks? Mebbe we should line everybody up and have 'em fill you up with spunk so you wouldn't need ta eat dinner! Would ya like that?" Stella had stopped watching Roland; her eyes were locked on Nate's -- and she was reddening, pinking up in preparation for another orgasm. Nate went on, "If you was mine, I'd have 'Slut for dark meat' tattooed on them big titties, and never allow you to wear anything that didn't show it! I'd put rings in them fat nipples an' tie you outside naked for whoever happened along to stick his dick into! Mebbe you oughta ask Roland to take you down to the 'hood to pull a train! Get some bruthas to do ya three at a time -- one in yo' slut mouth, one in that skank pussy and one in yo' big ass!" "HHHHRRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!" Stella screamed around Roland's cock! Her eyes rolled up and she hunched, there, cherry red. DiAngelo, slamming away howled, "Jeezus! She just squirted all over me! Fuck! I'm gonna shoot!" "Fuck, me, too!" Roland bellowed above Stella's grunts, cupping her head to hold himself deep. His other hand had tugged one of her heavy breasts up off the desktop by it's nipple, and he was obviously giving it Hell with his fingers... Roland was the first to back off, letting the heavy brunette get some air. "Damn, Stella, I'm gonna have to stay away from Mama tonight -- I think you took two loads!" Stella grasped him by the shaft and gasped, "Hang on a sec -- I'll clean it off..." Turning to Nate, she gasped, "Thanks a lot! That was..." Words apparently failed her at that point; she just shook her head. "No problem..." Nate replied. Stella went to work in the pubes at the base of Roland's cock, where dribbles of semen had escaped, here and there, during his ejaculation. DiAngelo looked up and grunted, "Gimme a second..." grabbing a shop rag from a counter in reach and shoving it against Stella's sopping opening as he withdrew. "Awright, if you're done with fucking around with Roland, get your slut ass down here and clean me up!" Stella, apparently taking no offense, backed away from the desk and squatted to take her supervisor in her mouth as she had Roland. "And keep that rag in there!" DiAngelo added, "You're a fucking swamp!" Looking up at Nate, he said, "Tomorrow at four, then?" "Sure." "You want Saturday, or Sunday?" "Lemme ask my girlfriend." "Whipped, huh?" DiAngelo leered. Nate passed it off, "Yeh. If you had what I got you would be, too..." Turning to Stella, he added, "No offense. Coupla weeks ago, I woulda bellied up and dropped two loads an' asked ya if you wanted to meet some friends, but shit's changed..." Stella merely smiled and nodded. "Okay, see ya then." "I'll have payroll shit for you tomorrow if Cum-Dumpster here remembers how ta type," DiAngelo replied, ruffling Stella's thick brown hair. Nate waved and headed for the car. ------- Chapter 31: Locker Room Sex - and a Rape Dwayne's big opportunity came about ten minutes later. Coach took a phone call, and things changed quickly. Blowing his whistle, he shouted, "Awright, we're cutting it short -- I've got an emergency! I'm leaving now; you guys hit the showers and head home! Will somebody..." "I got it, Coach!" Dwayne yelled, "Toss me the keys!" Coach did so, and Dwayne found himself the temporary owner of the gym... Yeah, this ought to work... Everybody but Dwayne headed for the locker room; Dwayne climbed the bleachers. "I have to lock up..." "Oh, boy!" Darla Jean simpered, "Does that mean I get to see the boys' locker room?" Mary giggled, and Dwayne rocked like he'd been punched, "Uh, yeah..." "Well, I'll wait until you get 'em all out of here, first..." "Yeah. Sounds good..." Dwayne wandered off, kind of dazed. Was it going to be that easy? "You're not gonna... ?" Mary asked, scandalized. "Why not? Cheerleaders do..." "Ummm." Mary absorbed this. "It's pretty quick..." "... Which is not a bad thing," Darla Jean insisted. "If you say so," Mary mused. "Let me know about the facilities -- maybe I can get Rob to volunteer to lock up some time..." "Sure," Darla Jean agreed. "You two could stay tonight -- but it might inhibit everybody..." "Yeah..." Mary gave it serious thought, nonetheless. But Rob resolved it by being among the first out, collecting Mary and heading out the door. "Keep an eye on those guys, Dwayne, or one of them will do something stupid you'll have to pay for!" "Yeah," Dwayne replied, then his eyes lit. "Right! Okay, you guys, no horse play -- get in and get out!" Given adequate excuse, Dwayne spent the next twenty minutes badgering his teammates to get showered and out the door. Finally, it appeared that he'd been successful; everyone was out the door and he had it locked. Darla Jean descended the bleachers, and Dwayne found himself stuck for a not-too-obvious ploy to get things headed the way he felt they should be headed. Darla Jean shrugged. "The grand tour, I guess. You can show me how the other half lives..." She punctuated it with a smirk. "Okay." Dwayne got in close while he showed her lockers and benches, showers and urinals. "It's not that remarkable..." "Maybe," Darla Jean mused, eyeing a urinal. "How on earth do you hit those things?" "Some of us don't," Dwayne grinned, only to watch Darla Jean's nose wrinkle in distaste -- probably not the fast lane into her pants... "Kind of rank in here," she remarked. "Well, the place sees a lot of heat, damp, and sweat. I'm kinda rank, for that matter, since I haven't showered yet..." Darla Jean leaned in to take a sniff, groping his arm. "Well, you don't smell too bad, but you're sticky. Why don't you go ahead and shower?" Dwayne blinked. This could be the blow-off -- or maybe not... "What'll you do?" "Oh, I'll hang out. I'm sure I can find a way to keep myself amused," Darla Jean announced confidently. "Just go about your normal routine -- pretend the place is full of boys and I'm not here..." "Okay." Dwayne cautiously cracked open his locker and plopped on the wooden bench that ran the distance between the rows. As he worked at his gym shoes, he asked, "So, is this any different from the girls' locker room?" "Well, there aren't any urinals," Darla Jean replied, grinning. "We get more stalls." She looked around. "It's kind of mirror image, so there'd be a big sanitary pad dispenser over there..." Both of them chuckled while Dwayne got out of his shirt. Next, he stood up, reached for the waistband of his shorts -- and stopped, dead. "What's the matter?" Darla Jean asked. "Ummm, next I'd shuck out of my shorts and go collect a towel on the way to the showers," Dwayne related, reddening. Darla Jean shrugged, "Okay..." The pair eyed one another for a moment, then Dwayne went ahead, covering his embarrassment with, "Do the girls run around naked, too?" "Some of them," Darla Jean replied distractedly. Dwayne's cock was already stiff and swollen, it's pinkish-purple tip mostly exposed beyond his foreskin. It was only the second one Darla Jean had actually laid eyes on, since her dance with Randall had been mostly in the dark. It seemed to be okay; she had no benchmarks, after all. In some ways, it seemed huge -- but then, it approximated the size of some vibrators she'd seen... "It's certainly not frowned upon. But some of the girls are too embarrassed..." "And you?" Given Darla Jean's reaction, Dwayne overcame the urge to attempt to fig leaf himself on the way to the towel stack. Darla Jean followed, eyeing his buns. Yeah, they were cute... "I started out that way -- but you're naked in the shower, anyway... I got used to it." "Well, there are no guys, after all..." "Yeah, that would change things..." Darla Jean's mouth was on autopilot while she took Dwayne in. He had nice muscles; maybe she ought to back off and entertain the idea of taking him seriously? "Have you guys had girls in here?" "Well, a couple of times," Dwayne admitted, deliberately turning to present Darla Jean a profile that included his jutting cock. "It isn't supposed to happen, but it has. I imagine guys react differently to girls in the room than vice-versa." "You don't get embarrassed?" "Well, yeah, but it's an opportunity, not a reason to run screaming..." Darla Jean giggled, "Well, it's kind of a fox in the henhouse thing." "Yeah. On the other hand, when a girl comes HERE, it's kind of an act of bravery..." He shrugged -- was this the way to go? It'd either make it a lock, or kill it... "Assumptions get made..." Reluctantly, he entered the open shower room and turned on the water at the head opposite the entrance. "Cheerleaders come in here, don't they?" Darla Jean countered. "That's innocent, isn't it?" "For a couple of seconds, after a game," Dwayne returned. "We usually keep it reined in for that. But that's not always innocent, either..." "So I've heard..." "Damn!" "What?" "I forgot my shampoo!" Dwayne was thoroughly soaked, too; dealing with Darla Jean's presence had rattled him a bit. "I'll get it. In your locker, right?" "Yeah." Dwayne stood there, wondering what was in there that he didn't want her to see... Dandruff shampoo. Well, he was a boy -- did she expect him to use some beauty treatment? Darla Jean headed back toward the showers. Awful wet in there... Darla Jean grinned to herself and snatched the pink midriff top over her head, revealing her somewhat thin white bra. Jeans, too? No, he could fight his way through them. She stepped out of her sandals at the door of the shower room, and advanced on Dwayne, "Here." "Huh?" There she stood -- in her bra! Somewhere, somehow, Dwayne had done SOMETHING right! He took the tube of shampoo and muttered, "Your jeans are getting wet." "Yeah." Darla Jean turned and sashayed back through the door. "You probably should have worn your sandals, too." "They're leather." Dwayne nodded and busied himself lathering up, watching Darla Jean from the corner of his eye. This was pretty amazing... Had Darla Jean jumped straight from the freezer to Bang Nation? It sure looked like it... He hurried on with the shower; the LAST thing he wanted was for her to get impatient and bail! As it was, his cock would probably poke straight through the tile shower wall, undamaged, if he tried... In the meantime, Darla Jean, deciding that she was fully committed, started working her way out of her jeans -- they WERE wet, after all... Tossing them on a bench, she discovered Dwayne was turning off the water, so she walked back in and collected his towel from the wall hook, meeting him halfway. Dwayne took it and rubbed out his hair; Darla Jean seemed happy to stand there and look at his meat (Dwayne took a glance from under the towel)... By the time he finished with his hair and started working on his arms and shoulders, she was coolly surveying his chest, provoking a grin. As he flipped the towel over his back, she murmured, "Turn around -- I'll get that..." The voice was steady, but the hands that held the towel shook. This was the bravest thing Darla Jean had ever done, by several orders of magnitude! She was absolutely amazed at herself as she toweled his back, then moved down over that ass and squatted to work the backs of his thighs and calves. "It's wet in here -- let's go back into the locker room..." Dwayne was just dumbfounded! If this wasn't Bang Nation action, it was right next door! 'Why' was the big question, but Dwayne wasn't going to ask it for fear that he'd jinx the whole thing... Darla Jean stopped him at the shower room door with a hand on his chest, then knelt with her face inches from his steely hard-on to dry his feet, one by one, having him step forward even more into her face in the process. Then she held her squat as she began working the towel up his legs, starting at the calves and moving to his thighs... The next target was obvious; Dwayne hissed as a towel-buffered hand took his shaft and another began gently working his balls, "Easy!" Darla Jean stopped. "Am I hurting you?" "No, but it's... sensitive. Especially when it's hard." He paused a moment. "Have you ever..." "Touched one?" Darla Jean grinned nervously. "Well, yeah..." "Little kids don't count," Dwayne chided. The towel hit the floor, but the hands didn't leave. "No, no, it was... good sized..." 'Bigger than this, actually, ' Darla Jean thought to herself, remembering the feel of Randall's rod. She bored in to examine her catch more closely. "Have you ever... ?" "Sucked one?" Darla Jean locked eyes with Dwayne to ensure she hadn't misunderstood. She hadn't. "Noooo..." "Oh, okay..." "But I'm not against it..." She leaned forward further, sniffing. Despite the recent shower, Dwayne's penis was a little... drippy... and it had a distinctive smell to it. Dwayne was evincing serious excitement as her hands slid along his shaft, too -- obviously, he was enjoying it... Dwayne made his first overt move of the evening, reaching down to unsnap Darla Jean's bra. Darla Jean didn't complain; she slid the flimsy item off her arms, one at a time. The revealed breasts weren't exactly huge, but there were nipples there, and Dwayne hadn't exactly handled thousands... "Nice!" Darla Jean trapped his shaft between her wide lips and her extended tongue, sliding it along the underside, and Dwayne hissed, "That is, too!" Darla Jean locked eyes with him and her wide lips engulfed the head of his penis. "Ooooohhhhh..." Dwayne moaned. "Aaaaaahhhhh..." Darla Jean backed off. "Are you close?" she asked, concerned. "Yeah, sorta..." He'd have blown in about five seconds; it was no time to lie about it. "Will you be able to... go again?" "Huh? Oh! Yeah! Definitely!" Was she kidding? He probably wouldn't go soft for another two times! "Good." Darla Jean dove on him again, and Dwayne's knees started to jump from the tension right away. "Look, I'm gonna shoot! If you ain't gonna swallow..." Darla Jean just waved a hand dismissively. This was the main event! It was too late for nerves; now was the time to get in every experience she could! "Okay, easy! No teeth! Just lips and tongue!" Dwayne was shading to bright red, and his breathing got heavy. Jeezus! Darla Jean's lips were MADE for this stuff! Wide, soft, full... "Awwwwww SHIIIIIIIIT!!!!!" Darla Jean knew what was coming; Dwayne's penis had become impossibly harder. Nonetheless, the first pulse surprised her with its volume and texture. The flavor? Well, maybe it grew on you, but it wasn't an instant favorite; nonetheless, it was tolerable. Dwayne was hunched over, trying hard to override the instinct to bury himself in Darla Jean's throat, his face a rictus. "Uh, uh, uh," he grunted, in time to his spurts. The flow slowed to a dribble, and stopped; Dwayne gently pushed back on Darla Jean's shoulders, "It's too... sensitive..." he wheezed. It was also still rock-hard in her hand. "Can we... ?" "Yeah. On the bench? Want a towel?" Dwayne, released, dashed off to get a half-dozen. The blowjob had been incredible; if she was offering more, he'd be a total fuck-up not to show his appreciation! He draped three on the wood of the bench, then stacked two more for a pillow as Darla Jean stepped out of her panties and bent to dig in her purse. "Whatcha doin'?" "Rubbers." Darla Jean waved one. "Neither of us wants problems down the line..." She seated herself straddling the bench and waved him over. 'Shit!' "Okay..." Dwayne moved himself into position to suffer the installation. Darla Jean picked up the disappointment. "I don't like 'em, either. If it gets in the way too much, we'll pull it -- but then you have to shoot on my belly, okay?" "Sure..." Couldn't beat that... He held still for the uncomfortable thing to be rolled on, then plopped astride the bench, "I wanna see!" "Okay..." Darla Jean laid back, trying to figure out what to do with her legs. "Gimme." Dwayne took the backs of her knees on his upper arms, then pushed them up to his shoulders while he leaned in to examine her closely. Was he up for eating pussy? Well, maybe. He'd finger her pie first, though... Darla Jean had thin, kind of droopy lips on her snatch, but they seemed to pull at his finger as he played it around in the pink valley beneath. He felt back upward toward her pubic bone where her clit should be and, yeah, there it was -- a pretty good-sized one, too! "OOoohhhh!!" Darla Jean moaned as Dwayne rolled the tip of his finger over her bundle of nerves. She was in a room full of the smell of male musk and sex, with the taste of cum in her mouth and a boy's fingers dancing on her clit -- this went 'way beyond excitement! "It's okay -- I'm wet! Put it in!" Dwayne was as hard as he was every going to get, anyway -- the smell of wet pussy had him going wild! He scooted up, and holding his cock parallel to the bench with his thumb, started pushing it into Darla Jean's tight pussy. The rubber was a pain in the ass, but she was SOOOO hot that it was a good thing he had some reason not to shoot before he even got the thing buried. Her inner lips had sprung open, but the rubber kept dragging them back to snag on his shaft until he started holding them back with his thumbs. Finally, he was buried deep, and her natural lubrication defeated the rubber's resistance; he dropped her knees back onto his upper arms and began to stroke. It was only seconds, though, before excitement pushed Darla Jean further, causing her to haul at him to get more action and institute a jittery dance of her hips. This was good, but she wanted more! Dwayne, who was trying to keep from blowing a load into the rubber before a minute had elapsed, was taking it relatively slowly and gently -- and while Darla Jean was gonna make it from this, it wasn't... urgent... enough to be fully satisfactory. "C'mon, Dwayne! Gimme!" Dwayne picked up the pace, but he needn't have worried, for the moment. The dance Darla Jean was doing on the bench kept him from getting two strokes in the same spot! Between that and the rubber, the urgency backed off some. He tried to put more into his stroke, but Darla Jean's jouncing made it hard work just to hang on! Darla Jean was pulling hard, trying to get that awful itch scratched; obviously, while she was gonna make it, Dwayne wasn't a perfect match -- Randall had done better tied down in a sleeping bag! She was working hard, surging and pulling, chasing her elusive completion when the sound of a pair of hands slowly clapping impinged on her consciousness, and a sarcastic voice announced, "Congratulations, Dwayne! I see Bang Nation has a new member!" Darla Jean cranked her head back and Ted Phipps came into view. Ah, SHIT! All she needed was THAT bastard knowing too much! Too late... "Hey! Don't stop!" Dwayne had halted at the intrusion, rising up to glare at Ted in consternation; Darla Jean started tugging at his hips and Ted grinned nastily, "Don't stop for me! Apparently the little schoolteacher is a hot number after all! In fact, I don't think you're givin' her enough, Man!" He waved urgently and Dwayne gave into the combined demands, resuming his stroke. Ted positioned himself beside Darla Jean's head, petting her cheek and querying mock-solicitously, "Are you getting enough, Sweetie?" Darla Jean said nothing, merely watching Ted while she continued to fuck. Giving up the chase on this orgasm was something she would not do, voluntarily, but she had a pretty good idea where THIS was headed... Ted confirmed her suspicions by unzipping his jeans and dropping them to his knees, presenting an already hard cock, "Here, Baby, I'll give you another toy to play with..." "Jeezus, Ted!" Dwayne complained, puffing. This wasn't supposed to be a gang-bang... Better get his, too, before Darla Jean started screaming 'Rape!' "Relax, Man, she wants the additional stimulation -- don't you, Honey?" He locked eyes with her, dragging his hard shaft across her wide lips. Darla Jean weighed her options. She could bite the bastard, and scream rape, but she really, really wanted this orgasm. God knew whether Dwayne was going to last long enough to get her to one, and she really wanted more... Ted might be a sonofabitch, but he was bigger than Dwayne, for one thing -- and something else was running around in the back of her mind, something dark... Holding his eyes, she turned her head toward him to accommodate wrapping her lips around his glans as he moved it forward again. "Ahhh, nice!" Ted exclaimed. "All this time I've been lookin' at them and I didn't recognize cocksucker's lips..." He put his hand behind her head so she couldn't escape and ran his cock in and out of her mouth a couple of times. "Good, but the angle is wrong. Gimme a minute..." He eyed the situation. "I know! Gimme a hand..." He put his hands under Darla Jean's armpits and dragged her over the end of the bench so that her head hung down, much to the irritation of both Darla Jean and Dwayne, who had to chase Darla Jean's pussy and reposition. "You won't need those towels like that, and I can kneel on them..." Ted shucked the rest of the way out of his jeans while Darla Jean struggled to find a way to hold her head up. "No, no! Not like that! Let your head drop!" he directed as he knelt up at the end of the bench on the towels that had been Darla Jean's pillow. "We're going to move straight to advanced cocksucking! I want a straight shot into that throat, Sweetie, or you won't graduate from Deep Throat 101..." He pulled her head down by her ears and started rubbing his leaking glans along her lips. "Mm mm," Darla Jean refused, shaking her head. Damn him! Why couldn't he just settle for a blowjob? "Ah ah ah!" Ted admonished, and grabbed Darla Jean's right nipple. "No fair holding out!" Bearing down, he pinched her nipple, HARD! "Owwmmph!" Darla Jean's mouth opened for a scream, but what she got was a cock. "That's better!" Ted approved unctuously. "Now, swallow when I hit your throat and it'll keep the gagging down. And breathe through your nose -- I'll try to see to it that you get an opportunity every once in a while. Don't worry if you have to puke -- we can just pop you in the shower, after..." In the meantime, he started jamming his cock toward the back of Darla Jean's throat. Darla Jean made to bite him, and he slapped her, "NO TEETH! If you bite me, bitch, I'll cut off both your tits!" Her hands came up to swat at him and he grabbed her wrists, leering, "You need to concentrate on Dwayne! The sooner you make Dwayne happy, the sooner I can get out of your throat and into your pussy! And I KNOW you'd rather have me in your pussy!" Ted started using Darla Jean's arms to lever himself into her mouth. "Ogh Agh! Glack!" Darla Jean tried to get a word out around Ted's piledriver. "What was that?" Ted asked, eyeing her, his cock held deep. "Augm!" Darla Jean shook her arms. Ted pulled his cock out. "You want your arms?" "Uh huh!" Darla Jean gasped. "What for?" "Hold Dwayne!" she panted. "You gonna be a good girl?" "Uh huh!" All this crap that was going on with Ted was distracting Dwayne -- and Darla Jean wanted him doing the right things, or this other stuff she was putting up with would be a waste! "Awright. I'm gonna play with your titties, okay?" "Uh huh!" "Open up." Ted stuck his cock back in her face, using her mouth as a fuck hole -- but he simultaneously released her hands. "Dwayne, Man," he chided, "Darla Jean wants you to get your shit together and FUCK her! Jeezus! Isn't that right, Sweetie?" Somehow, Darla Jean contrived to nod. "Now put the meat to the poor girl, willya?" Darla Jean started caressing Dwayne's sides and upper back, too, trying to impart a sense of urgency -- the throat thing was no fun! Dwayne got mad. Fuckin' Ted! What an asshole! But the anger covered fear; Dwayne didn't want to go head to head with Ted -- which was why he'd allowed the current situation to come to pass in the first place... Deciding that it was time to get his, he started seriously pounding away at Darla Jean, setting up a driving rhythm punctuated by impacts of his pubic bone on hers. This was FINE with Darla Jean! Ted's attempts to stuff her throat weren't a whole lot of fun, but the little flashes that Dwayne's impacts on her clitoris brought her helped her to deal with it, if not ignore it. Every third stroke or so by Ted caused her to curl up and retch, but the curling lifted her hips for Dwayne to get in a better shot. Ted's pattern seemed to stop just short of making her vomit -- she was drooling spit everywhere -- but she was coping, and, periodically, succeeding in taking him as deep as he seemed to want. As the whole thing became less effort, more and more of her attention shifted back to the fire in her loins -- which Dwayne was seriously fanning, at this point. The waves built and built, and she let go of herself and allowed instinct to curl her hips up and make her scratch Dwayne's flanks, urging him on. Guttural sounds emerged around Ted's cock, and he laughed, "You're gettin' to her now, Man! Go for the gusto!" while he milked her nipples with his fingers. "Fuck, you, Man!" Dwayne grunted, but he was in the pipe, on final approach -- nothing would stop him from shooting, now! He lit into Darla Jean even harder, looking for that last little bit... He found it, too -- but not before Darla Jean! Suddenly, she went "GOOOOOO!!!!" around Ted's cock and locked up, stiff as a board, while her inner lining clamped down on Dwayne to the point that they could BOTH feel every vein and ridge in his swollen member. This triggered Dwayne, and he held himself buried as his cock pulsed again and again, pouring a flood of white goo into his rubber. Ted backed off; if she was gonna cum THAT hard, she might bite him by accident! But he rubbed his cock in her face and hair as she moaned and undulated to what was obviously a BIG cum... Dwayne crawled off and plopped on the bench, and Ted ragged him, "You're done, aren't you, Wild Man? All fucked out..." "Well, it WAS two!" Dwayne wheezed. Ted came around beside Darla Jean. "SHE ain't done, are ya, Sweetie?" He reached out and slid a finger along Darla Jean's puffy slit and she arched herself, the sensitive aftermath of her orgasm making the touch partake equally of Heaven and Hell. "See? She's still sparky! You want Uncle Ted's fuck stick in you, Sweetie?" He rubbed his cock along her belly. Darla Jean said nothing, but her body's cravings betrayed her. The animal passion that had carried her through the last orgasm pricked up it's ears at the offer and the touch of the fingers playing in her hot twat and her legs splayed further, automatically. It was embarrassing, and Ted was a total bastard, but... "Well, you totally fucked this up, you cocksucker, so you might as well get yours before we both go to jail for rape," Dwayne grunted, surfacing a rubber. "Here." Ted took it and held it, but turned hot eyes on Darla Jean while he debated. Darla Jean could read him as though the words were being chalked in the air above him: It'd be a big ego thing to ride her and dump his spunk in her, making her his, if only for the moment -- but if she came up pregnant, he wouldn't escape the consequences... A light went on, and he grinned evilly, continuing to defeat her will by working her clitoris with his thumb while two fingers wriggled in her sopping tunnel. "If you want protection," he grated, "YOU put it on..." Darla Jean grimaced. There went the rape charge; if she put a rubber on him, the whole thing went to shades of grey too light to grant any expectation of a conviction -- but she was DAMNED sure she didn't want children from the likes of HIM... Not fucking wasn't in the cards; Darla Jean was too hot. Dwayne had made a fine appetizer, but he wasn't a main course... She reached down to grasp Ted's cock with her right hand and held out her left for the rubber. Ted grinned triumphantly and ripped the packet, handing Darla Jean the prophylactic with a flourish. Turning to Dwayne, he rubbed it in, "Darla Jean's a classic -- she went from dead thing to nympho in one fell swoop! I'm sorry, Man -- you just ain't got enough going there to hold her..." "You suck, Man!" "Hey, not your fault! You'd be fine for a normal chick! Maybe you oughta ask Darla Jean to hook you up with one of her girlfriends!" Ted leered. "Anyway, I figure that this would have been your first and last pass with Darla Jean, anyway, so you're not losing out." Turning to Darla Jean, he said, "Ain't that right?" Darla Jean didn't look up, she just nodded, jacking Ted's cock while figuring out which way the rubber was rolled with her other hand. Embarrassment had her running bright pink. "Now, me, on the other hand," Ted bragged, "well, that's open to debate!" Darla Jean locked eyes with Ted and glared. No way! No FUCKING way was this bastard EVER getting between HER legs again! Both boys picked up the glare. "Howcum you're not talking?" Dwayne asked. "Mouf hurts," Darla Jean got out. Dwayne eyed her critically; yeah her lips were puffier than usual. Ted just cackled. Darla Jean got the rubber on, and Ted moved onto the bench. "No need to stand on ceremony! Raise your legs, Sweetie, and let Uncle Ted show you some REAL fucking!" Darla Jean did so, and Ted took up the position Dwayne had used previously -- only he wasn't slow and gentle about it, but rammed his cock into her as soon as it was aligned with her opening! "Ooof!" Darla Jean got out, then Ted started slamming, obviously going for his, and to Hell with Darla Jean! For the vast majority of girls, this might have been godawful, a traumatic experience -- but Darla Jean had come to terms with what was in store some time back. Besides, Ted was a fucking bastard but he had a nice cock -- a bit more than Dwayne, but somewhat less than Randall -- and his go to Hell style was a better match for Darla Jean's temperament than Dwayne's gentler advances. The first couple of strokes were painful, but Darla Jean got into it almost immediately, clutching him to her and wrapping her legs around his upper thighs. Yeah, embarrassing as it was, this pounding attack was scratching her itch! Not as good as Randall, who managed to cooperate without being overly gentle and had more to go around, but it was working -- she was going to cum, probably before the bastard fired off in her! "Damn! You got a SWEEEET pussy, Babycakes! Maybe I'll hang out and work you hard enough you'll forget just how it was I got here..." Ted shifted his stroke, paying more attention to his partner, and Darla Jean began to understand why some girls dated bastards the likes of Ted. Sure, he was manipulative, and grasping, and had no real concern for anyone else, but as a side-effect he managed to elicit a certain masochistic joy... Her clit was taking grazing impacts at the rate of about two a second, igniting nerves all over her body... Dwayne looked on, disgusted. Shit! Ted was right! Darla Jean was red all over, hunched rigid, and her ass was moving like crazy! As he watched, her eyes rolled up and she went totally stiff, holding Ted in place with her crossed legs, grunting, "Hrrrrgh! Hrrrrgh! Hrrrrgh!" Ted cackled, "Holy shit! What a cock massage! Damn!" Darla Jean sagged back and he added, "Let's go for two, shall we?" He leaned back into it, then glanced over at Dwayne. "Jeez, Dude, why don't you play with her nips or something! I know you're all fucked out, but you can always get her to lick the cream off it..." As angry and humiliated as he was, that sounded like a good idea to Dwayne, who stepped around to Darla Jean's hanging head, knelt up, and presented his cock. Darla Jean, who had been somewhat secretly pleased that her position with her head over the edge of the bench kept her from even having to LOOK at Ted, locked eyes with Dwayne and opened her mouth. "Aaahhh!" Dwayne moaned as she set to work, gently licking and sucking his now-shrunken but over-sensitive meat. Darla Jean was happy enough with this; Dwayne wasn't ramming away at her now sore mouth. When he reached out and started recreationally toying with her nipples, things got even better. But of course, Ted had to try to ruin it... "You're gonna make someone a fine slut, Darla Jean! Do you think you'll ever be able to settle for just one guy again? You got the makings of a real gang-bang girl..." "Shut up, Ted!" Dwayne rasped. "It's not HER fault YOU'RE a bastard; we're damned lucky she isn't trying to scream her head off! Things woulda gone just fine without YOU sticking your dick in things! Now, we're BOTH probably fucked..." "Nah. She'd have a helluva time convincing a jury that she was raped when it got out that SHE put the rubber on me! Think about it! We're home free, aren't we, Sweetie?" Darla Jean took Dwayne gently by the hips, pushed him back, and gasped out, "Shut up and fuck, Ted! I want you GONE!" Then she pulled Dwayne back in. "Sure you do, Sweetie, sure you do. When I leave, who'll do this?" Ted went nuts, instituting a series of jackhammer strokes. Darla Jean reacted; basically, she had no choice. Moaning, she began to surge back, tightening up and presenting her channel for Ted's driving attack. She accommodated to his rhythm and began to hunch in counterpoint as she hit the plateau from which orgasm was a short jump. The urge to rut having taken her again, she started making serious love to the cock in her mouth, sucking and nursing and caressing it with her tongue. Dwayne surprised himself by producing his third erection in thirty minutes. While he doubted seriously that he could cum again, Darla Jean's lips and tongue sure felt good... Darla Jean, again reduced to a creature that craved pleasure, was gratified by the growth and began to deliver a real blowjob, using her hands on Dwayne's hips to move his length along her lips and into her mouth. The uncritical part of her, divorced from the situation and it's charged overtones, was taking the act as it was presented without the external issues; whether it was rape or not was irrelevant, as was how she would feel in the morning. For the moment, the sexy animal in her only cared that he was enjoying it; maybe he would cum again -- wouldn't that be nice? More complex considerations were overlaid by the buzz of Darla Jean's nerve endings as the pleasure continued to radiate from her gently milked nipples and inner vagina, punctuated by the flashes of clitoral stimulation that Ted was bringing her. Ted's contribution to the current situation was irrelevant, too; forgotten was her hatred and disgust for him -- these things were irrelevant to the moment. Right now, he was the male who was bringing her pleasure, pounding her, owning her -- the male who would soon deposit his seed in her. The wall of sparks was rising, blotting out everything else... Her ears began to roar, and the cyclone rushed through her again! "Hrrrrgh! Hrrrgh! Hrrrgh!" Ted was close. When she started clamping down on him, he continued to move, but more slowly, allowing her to milk him. It took only a moment before he erupted, "Wooo! Hoooo! Damn, that's some fine pussy!" while his cock surged and swelled to and even greater size. Even then, though, Ted's basic nature overrode everything else. Snatching his cock from her pulsing twat, he ripped off the rubber and gushed semen all over Darla Jean's chest and belly -- even hitting Dwayne! He stood there, pumping his cock and jeering, "That's all you get, Sweetie -- but I gave you my load, after all, didn't I?" Teasing pleasure out of his cock with his hand wasn't quite as good as pumping her twat full, but adding a bit of humiliation more than made up for it... "Jeezus, Man!" Dwayne howled. "Aww, shut up -- it'll wash off. Get her to lick it off!" Ted reached for his jeans. "I see my work is done, here..." Whistling, he tucked himself back together and headed for the door. "Stick your hand in her gash, Man, and give her the whole ride." Dwayne reached down and captured Darla Jean's clitoral hood between two fingers, sliding them back and forth more or less instinctively, provoking more surging hunches and more cock-gobbling. Ted stepped into his shoes. "You can pop her in the shower, after... Don't forget to lock up!" Chuckling, he stalked out. Darla Jean was still surging gently. Pushing Dwayne back, she husked, "I need a little more... gentle... to come down..." "I got no more rubbers..." "Pull out. Or I'll suck it..." Darla Jean gasped. "Okay." Darla Jean had Dwayne going again; he was disinclined to be critical. He snatched the towels up off the floor and handed them to Darla Jean with his off hand -- the one that wasn't working her clit. "Hold these." Then he went around to her hips and started tugging, "Lift your head." Darla Jean, mere putty at this point, complied, and he got her head back onto the bench in basically their original position. He took the towels and rasped, "Lift your head," and repositioning was complete as he re-pillowed her head. Then he knelt up and slipped himself inside... "Ummmm," Darla Jean moaned. Ted had reamed the Hell out of her, but she'd cum and was still pulsating, so her twat had tightened back up. Dwayne's cock felt wonderful... She was about half-rational, and started babbling in a random fashion whatever was going through her head, "Don't just pull out like that -- that was mean. I'd rather get pregnant than just suddenly go empty like that in the middle of an orgasm... Do what you want -- cum if you can -- I just want to enjoy the feel of you in me..." Dwayne's cock gave her that pleasantly full feeling; it was MUCH better than nothing. Ted might be a great fuck, but he had no sense of after-care... The bastard... Darla Jean's mind drifted on a cloud of pleasure that Dwayne's cock in her extended further and further. She rubbed his back and moaned as he lowered his head to suckle at a nipple; Dwayne was actually kind of sweet... Dwayne sensed that an attempt to bring her to orgasm again would probably end in failure, so he took her at her word and went looking for his own pleasure, delivering hers as a side-effect. Two cums had slowed his recovery down considerably, but Darla Jean's pussy felt wonderful and he was certain that he could cum again if he had the time... He had the time. Dwayne's more gentle efforts -- more authoritative than his first pass, but less urgently abusive than Ted's -- held her adrift on an ocean of pleasure, generating an itch and scratching it at the same time. It seemed to go on and on, gentle waves rocking her with his slower, but still metronomic, stroking. After a few minutes, she surprised them both as she felt herself gently lifted again to a gentle orgasm, "Ohh! Oohhh!!! OOOOHHH!!!" clenching herself to the surprised Dwayne for a moment before collapsing back and moaning, "Oh, that was nice..." This imparted the confidence and excitement Dwayne needed to finish; her pussy had told him she wasn't faking -- he'd really done it! Again! His urgency increased, and he gasped, "I'm gonna cum, now..." Darla Jean was done, and rationality was slowly returning. The ride was over, but Dwayne had been there for her... "Hop off and I'll suck you!" she offered. "Okay..." Dwayne gritted his teeth as he backed awkwardly off and got to his feet. Darla Jean just managed to get her languid limbs under her and sit up when he reached for her head, "Now! Now!" She leaned forward, those soft lips captured his glans, and he exploded, "AAAAUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGHHH!!!!" The amount of semen wasn't nearly up to the sensations involved -- a mere trickle -- but his cock pulsed mightily anyway as wave after wave rolled over him, weakening his knees as he clutched Darla Jean's head to him. Darla Jean milked him, giving him a return on the pleasure he had granted her, sliding her tongue along the pulsing underside of his cock and working her lips on his glans and his shaft, caressing it gently and bringing unbearable sensations to it. In a moment, he pushed her gently away and plopped onto the bench beside her to catch his breath, "Damn!" He pulled her narrow frame to him and cuddled her while they both tried to get their bearings. Darla Jean came down, finally, and the world rushed in. Her actions, Dwayne's, and Ted's began to take on implications, each more ugly than the last. She shook herself free of Dwayne and began to sob. "What's wrong?" he asked, baffled. Hadn't they moved beyond this? "Why didn't you stop him?" Darla Jean accused through her tears. Dwayne hung his head. "Well," he sighed, "probably for the same reasons you didn't do too much resisting: I didn't want to stop what I was doing..." He wiped his face. "And, ultimately, because I knew I couldn't. If we'd had a fight, it would have just been harder on everybody; Ted probably would have treated you worse, and I... I'd have given up mine..." Another girl might have been inconsolable, but Darla Jean was cursed with intellect. She played scenarios in her mind -- and realized that Dwayne was right. Quite aside from his selfishness in not wanting to stop fucking her (which she was unable to blame him for as it had its reflection in her), any attempt by Dwayne to interfere with Ted would probably have erupted in violence to Dwayne and violence to her. Ted would have still raped her, but he'd have probably beaten Dwayne bloody, then been even more vicious with her -- and in the presence of possible charges and no friendly witnesses, he might have been tempted to do something REALLY rash... After a LOOOONG two minutes, she sighed and agreed, "Yeah, you're right -- it would have been a mess. But you KNOW he's going to go out and ruin my reputation..." "Yeah," Dwayne agreed, pulling her back to him. "You're right, Darla Jean. And he'll probably fuck me over, too..." He hugged her to him. "I'm sorry -- I should have checked better. I KNOW the doors are locked..." "He planned it." Darla Jean shook his head. "He knew it was coming down, and he hid himself somewhere, waiting for us to get to where we did. If we hadn't done it, he probably had some kind of backup plan. It's MY fault for being so damned obvious..." "If you hadn't been, I don't know how I'd have ever gotten the message... Or the guts to act on it..." Dwayne sighed. "Let's get that shower..." Darla Jean nodded, and they staggered into the shower room together. ------- Beth Ann Nevins knew trouble when she saw it; Darla Jean came through the door a good deal later than usual with rain clouds hanging over her head, ""Hon? What's up?" 'Nothing, ' was the safe answer, but one look at her mother said it wouldn't fly. "Is Dad home?" "He's in the shower." Beth Ann neglected to mention why -- all this sex stuff with Darla Jean had gotten her juices flowing and she'd virtually attacked Andre on his arrival home. "Let's go upstairs..." 'Uh oh... ' Beth Ann nodded and followed her daughter to her room, where they duplicated the seating arrangement of a few days before. Beth Ann settled herself in the task chair and murmured, "Okay..." Darla Jean covered her face. "I fucked up." Beth Ann opened her mouth for the reflexive upbraiding over language, but quelled it. "How?" "I got cocky. I've been scoping a jock for the last few days, and having the pills made me feel protected, even though I knew they'd take a while. I've been hot to get more ever since the first time, and so I got really obvious with the boy so he'd do something..." "I'm guessing he did?" Beth Ann sensed that this wasn't about fucking without protection... "Well, yeah, but that's not the problem..." "You got caught?" her mother floundered. "Ummm, yes and no. The boy turned out to be a decent sort, but he wasn't... particularly gifted..." Beth Ann giggled -- she couldn't help herself! "That happens..." Darla Jean rubbed her face. "Okay, so, it happened kind of weird. We sort of made a date -- nothing clear -- for after basketball practice. Then the basketball coach got this telephone call and had to leave early and Dwayne..." She paused, but her mother nodded, taking in the context, so she went on, "Well, he saw an opportunity, and offered to lock up. He ran everybody out and locked up, and we started making out in the Boys' Locker Room." "And?" Nothing revealed yet warranted Darla Jean's attitude. "Well, it wasn't REALLY making out -- we basically just jumped to sex -- I kind of instigated that, because it's really all I wanted from him..." "Darla Jean!" Beth Ann shook her head. "I know -- but he's a jock! They're not generally going to be able to keep me happy OUTSIDE of bed! I wanted to compare him with..." Darla Jean shut up. Beth Ann waited, but the name wasn't forthcoming. "Okay, go on -- I still haven't heard the punch line, have I?" "No." Darla Jean stewed for a minute. "We got started, and, well, he was nice and gentle, but not that big..." "How big?" "I didn't have a ruler, Mother! Six inches? Maybe a bit less?" "Honey, that's about average..." "It is?" Darla Jean's assessment of Randall jerked up another notch. "Huh..." She shrugged it off. "Anyway, I was just starting to finally get close -- Dwayne was a little TOO gentle -- and another boy walked in..." "Oh." "Yeah. It was deliberate -- not on Dwayne's part, on Ted's. He deliberately hid and waited until we were both VERY close..." "What did Dwayne do?" "Well, not much. You see, Ted is a nasty character. The choices boiled down to finishing what he was doing and letting whatever happen, and stopping, getting the crap beaten out of him and letting whatever happen -- and having THAT be probably worse, too. Dwayne chose to finish up." Darla Jean hung her head. "I did, too." Beth Ann merely accepted this. "What did this Ted do?" "Well, to start, he f-fucked my face..." "They call that a blow job, Hon." "No, Mother," Darla Jean asserted. "I gave Dwayne a blow job -- my first, but he didn't complain -- when it became clear that he wasn't going to last very long the first time. Ted just held my head and stuck his dick as far down my throat as he could get it. A blowjob is kind of voluntary, and I wasn't volunteering. I think he split my lower lip..." Darla Jean fingered it. "Ummm, I stand corrected," Beth Ann replied. "Then what happened?" "Dwayne and I finished, and Ted climbed on..." Beth Ann flinched. "Umm, maybe this could wait, but -- did you use rubbers?" "Yeah." Darla Jean sighed. "They're that bad?" "No," Darla Jean amplified, "It's what went with them. Ted told me I had one of two choices: I could put the rubber on him -- which would seriously weaken my rape case -- or I could chance having his kid. I sure didn't want THAT!" "This guy's an asshole," Beth Ann ranted, her language surprising her daughter no end. "Obviously, he thoroughly browbeat both of you..." Darla Jean nodded. "The worst of it was that while he didn't really care any too much whether I enjoyed things to start with, he was... better... than Dwayne. A little bigger... rougher... more aggressive... I hated his guts, but I responded to that... He made sure he embarrassed both of us by making me cum twice..." Beth Ann stepped forward and cradled her daughter's head to her, "I like to be ridden hard, too, Hon. It's a family trait." "Well, he did everything he could to ruin it for us. He jerked himself out of me in the middle of my second orgasm, ripped the rubber off, and squirted cum all over me -- and Dwayne..." "He ought to be locked up!" Beth Ann hissed. "Well," Darla Jean sobbed, "he won't be THIS time! And his version of the tale will be all over school tomorrow, and everyone will think I'm a slut, and Dwayne..." "I don't think you owe Dwayne anything..." "Mother, he treated me nice, and then that bastard Ted came along and got me to cum twice! How do you think he felt?" Darla Jean wailed. "But then he went right back to being nice, helping me recover from Ted's being a bastard -- he even got me to cum again! And he helped me clean up..." She shook her head. "From a reputation standpoint, he'd actually do better saying he was a co-conspirator -- telling people how it REALLY happened will make him look wimpy. And of course THAT will paint me as a TOTAL slut..." She buried her face and her shoulders shook. "Do you know what he's going to do?" Beth Ann asked. "No," Darla Jean sniffled. "But he's REALLY pissed at Ted; Ted made him look bad, three or four ways." Beth Ann shook her head. "Well, it could go any one of several ways -- and none of them is going to be particularly good for you!" She sighed. "I... had a reputation when I was your age, too. Your father... well, it helped and it hurt, when he was trying to decide whether to date me. I kind of did what you were doing -- sampling the available population -- but I was pretty haphazard about it. Fortunately, there was no AIDS..." She shook her head, "Believe it or not, I was a party girl -- if you got a little booze in me, in particular, I was up for just about anything..." The look on her face spoke volumes -- obviously, she had some wild memories. "And people were even more stuffy, then -- or at least the older generation was. We were doing the 'free love' thing..." "Wow!" Darla Jean was floored! Mother? A 'party animal'? "You never did the, uh, both ends thing like I did, did you?" "Honey, you know there are three places you can be penetrated, right?" "Well, yeah," Darla Jean's eyes popped. "There's a term for when you take a... cock -- yes, I know the words -- in all three places at once; they call it 'being checked for air- tightness'. I used to like that, when I was drunk..." 'Or high, ' she amended to herself. At this point, Beth Ann didn't want to legitimize her few experimental run-ins with pot and pills. "When you like to ride hard, multiple partners kind of goes with the territory..." Darla Jean was floored! Mother? A sexpot? "So what happened?" "Your father happened. He went to a LOT of effort to 'reform' me -- and he had all the tools. I've told you it's not a coincidence that your room is on this end of the house, and ours is on the other; I wear him out regularly. But sometimes..." Beth Ann shut up, but her eyes said that she had fond memories of the 'good old days'. "I've settled down quite a bit..." She stopped woolgathering, "You're going to have to keep a low profile..." "Yeah." Darla Jean wiped her nose. "If this goes the way you seem to think it's going, you'll be getting a lot of offers -- from boys you want no part of. And none from those you do..." "I know." "... And you're not going to want to pass ALL of them up..." "Uh huh." "It's gonna be a tough time until things settle a bit. The smart thing to do would be to take yourself out of circulation for a bit, if possible..." "Stop having sex?" "Well, that, or settle on one boy..." Beth Ann eyed her daughter sidelong. "Well, that's the trick, isn't it?" Darla Jean replied. "It WAS the grand plan, all along..." Beth Ann chuckled, then sobered. "This is 'way late, but are you hurt?" "Ummm, I'm gonna be sore for a day or two, and my lip's a little puffy, but..." Beth Ann nodded. "I figured there couldn't be much, or it would have come up. What about, well, trauma? I know you're feeling some guilt right now, and you opened yourself up for what happened -- but there is plenty of blame to go around, and this Ted character sounds like the one with the most to shoulder. Are you blaming Dwayne? Boys in general?" "Ummm," Darla Jean searched her conscience. "Dwayne... did what was best for both of us. And he took care of me afterwards, when he could have just walked out and left me messed up. I think I'm okay with boys in general, although I want Ted's head on a plate..." "Okay," Beth Ann sighed. "Come talk to me any time you need to -- and don't worry about it; whatever awful thing you think you've done, I probably can top it. But for now, I'd better get dinner going or your father will figure out something's up..." Darla Jean nodded, and Beth Ann headed downstairs. ------- Chapter 32A: More Object Lessons -- and Velma Gets a Visitor Nora was ready when Nate wheeled up in front of the mansion; she climbed in, and Nate headed for the hospital. Nate was pensive; after a quick peck on her cheek, he was quiet for several minutes. Finally, Nora opened up with, "Was the job that bad?" "No, it was okay. Nothin' super-duper, but a lot better than nothin'." He sat quiet for a moment, then, "I'm wonderin' if I done wrong..." "Why? What happened?" "Well, it's complicated. I don't want you to tell your Daddy and have him land on the guys at work with both feet..." "Are they doing something wrong?" Nora asked, concerned. "Well, uh, no. Well, it would be, normally, but it didn't feel wrong in this case..." "C'mon, Honey -- out with it. We'll try to keep Daddy out of it." "Okay, well, the warehouse manager is doin' his secretary..." "Really?" Nora shook her head. "Well, he's not hiding it very well if you found out on your first day..." "They ain't hidin' it. Everybody knows -- in fact, the secretary likes to have two..." "Nate..." "Whoa! Don' go too far, here! Lemme finish!" Nate waved his hands. "All right," Nora replied suspiciously, "Keep driving..." "The secretary is a slut -- I ain't callin' names, here, SHE says she is!" Nate insisted. "An' she likes to, well, suck a little dick while the boss does her..." He held up a finger to forestall an outburst from the thunderclouds gathering over Nora. "She didn't get mine..." This backed things down quite a bit. "I never touched her, but..." Nora was waiting him out, but her expression was skeptical. "Okay, she likes to be watched, an' she likes to be told how skanky she is. I was there, and she asked me to, so I turned on my rap an' let her have it, 'bout as nasty as I could think of. It was only after she cum like a racehorse I got to thinkin' that maybe that was sex?" The question was punctuated with a nervous glance. "You didn't touch her?" "Uh uh. Made a point of tellin' her I was taken an' off limits -- polite, of course." "So, you watched while she did what, exactly?" "She was takin' it doggie-style an' blowin' a dude at the same time." "And she asked you to call her dirty names?" "Yeh. I rolled it up inta some wild shit, bein' staked out nekkid in the 'hood with 'Slut' tattooed on her tits an' takin' on whoever showed up, three at a time. 'Bout then she started to blow..." "What does this woman look like?" "Big, dark-haired Italian-lookin' bitch, thirty-five or forty. Not your movie star -- even porn flicks -- except maybe just on eagerness to please..." "Uh huh." Nora could see Nate's problem; she couldn't decide whether she was mad or not, herself... "It was sex, Nate. After a fashion. I'd be very angry if she'd... serviced you..." "I didn't touch her!" Nate insisted. "I told her no offense, but I had better at home and wasn't about to fuck it up!" "I believe you." Nora rubbed Nate's back, feeling the dense muscles. "I honestly can't decide whether to tell you never to do it again or not... Does it seem likely she'll ask?" "Mebbe," Nate grunted. "It seemed like it was the icing on the cake..." "Was you being black part of it?" "Well, it coulda been. But black dicks ain't new to her -- she was suckin' one." "Oh?" "Yeh. She only fucks the boss, but she's sucked mosta the dicks in the place, and 'bout half of 'em are black..." Nate shrugged. "Okay." Nora thought about it. "This could go a bunch of ways -- I'm not sure how I feel about it. If she asks, you can talk nasty to her again -- don't volunteer! -- but if you let her suck you off, and I'm not standing there, obviously approving, I'm gonna be real mad!" She eyed him a moment. "And I reserve the right to change my mind about this at any time!" "Okay." Nate wasn't dumb -- he was STILL in the doghouse. "You told me, though, and that's big." Nora pecked him on the cheek. "And it WAS an... odd... situation. You're off the hook, for now..." ------- Nate's mother was in rare form when they showed up: "Huh! I figgered you wasn't comin'. I'm goin' NUTS in this fuckin' place!" "Sorry, Mama -- I had to work." "You WHAT? Since fuckin' when?" "Since 'bout four o'clock. Got a job in a warehouse, loadin' and unloadin'." "It fuckin' pay anythin'? This place is gonna be expensive..." Nate shrugged. "Twelve-fifty. Don' worry 'bout this -- you're insured, since Nora's Pa decided you was." "I wonder what the fuck THAT is gonna cost," Tabitha grumbled, flashing a glance at Nora. "You got any idea, Girl?" Nora shrugged. "None. I'm surprised that he interfered at all; I think the reason was that you kind of implied that he was your protector, then Rodday ignored it. Daddy doesn't take insults well. That and, well, you're family..." Tabitha gave her a jaundiced look, "Until YOU say otherwise..." Nora turned an eye on Nate that told him that this evening's escapade wasn't over, and replied, "As long as Nate remembers to keep his... dick... where it belongs, we'll be fine..." Tabitha sniffed something. "An' where's that?" "In me!" Nora took the dare. Tabitha chuckled. The girl had pluck! She'd expected 'In his pants!' "Boy, you in trouble fer sumpthin'?" "Uh, sorta, maybe..." Nate sensed that he was being cornered. "I didn't fuck nobody." Nora amplified, "The secretary at Nate's new job likes group sex. And she likes being talked nasty to and humiliated. Nate talked nasty to her." Tabitha's head swiveled, "That's sex, Boy." "I kinda figured, afterward. During, it was jus' runnin' my rap." "You gave her what she wanted, an' she came -- right? If it'd been a business transaction, she'd owe you for it." Nate nodded. If Mama said it was sex, it was. She'd know... Tabitha looked at Nora and amplified, "Some johns just want to watch you play with yourself while they jack off." Nora went pink. "Sorry, Baby, I keep forgettin'..." "It's okay. Daddy has been educating me. I know he gets off on dominating people, with or without sex..." "You mad?" Tabitha asked. "Uncomfortable. I know he didn't realize, until after. And he DID come to me with it right away. I'm not thrilled, but..." "Too fuckin' late, right?" "Yeah." "What'd ya tell him ta do nex' time?" "I told him that he could talk dirty to her IF she asked -- but if he did anything else without me standing there..." "That was broadminded of ya," Tabitha opined. "Most gals woulda said, 'No, but FUCK no!'..." She turned a glare on Nate, who threw up his hands. Nora smiled ferally. "Well, I might want to watch, sometime..." Tabitha chuckled. "He's your first, ain't he?" Nora nodded. "An' I'm pretty sure 'bout the other end..." Nate nodded, too. "Ordinarily, I'd be tellin' ya both to try a coupla things so ya could tell love from sex -- but sometimes, that jus' muddies the water..." "I think Daddy will be pressing for that, at some point," Nora offered. Tabitha nodded. "Be up-front wit' each other." She flashed a glare at Nate, "You unnerstand, Boy? That don't mean afterwards!" "Yeh," Nate nodded. "I got it." "You get an opportunity, an' you cain't clear it with Mama," Tabitha's look identified Nora as 'Mama' -- not herself, "you keep your dick in your pants!" "Yes'm." "Awright." That subject closed, Tabitha moved on, "Why am I still here?" "I dunno," Nate responded. Nora threw up her hands. "I ain't got nuthin' life threatening," Tabitha declaimed. "Even insurance don't allow ya ta hang around takin' up valuable bed space. What the fuck? Call your Daddy." Nora shrugged and went to the phone in the room. Flipping open her cell, she looked up the stored number and dialed it on the room phone, since cell phone use was not allowed on the ward. "Wilson." "Daddy?" "Yes, Daughter?" "Daddy, Nate's Mama wants to know why she's still in the hospital." Armand ruminated a moment. "Give her the phone." Nora handed off, wordless, to Tabitha. "Yeah?" "I instructed the hospital staff to put some weight on you," Armand announced. "Yeah?" Tabitha replied suspiciously, "An' what else?" Armand rolled his eyes, "All right, they're treating your chemical dependency, too. I don't expect to win that one -- just back you off a bit. But if you MUST play with recreational chemicals, you'll feel better and be safer if you're less wasted. Besides," Armand's voice hardened, "you'll get a lot more johns if you don't look like a skeleton with a couple of saggy bags on it's chest." Tabitha cackled. "I see you ain't tryin' ta reform me. There's gotta be cheaper places, though." "True. But you're harder to get at in the hospital; if Pinkham is more of a fool than I think he is, you're safer, there." "Wit' the people you got runnin'? You probly got a safe place ta stash me where I can get three hots an' a cot -- an' whatever you're pumpin' inta me ta clean me out..." Armand considered this. "You're probably right -- but I didn't want you to feel like I was making a prisoner of your scrawny ass." The rough talk was deliberate; he knew Tabitha would appreciate it. "I'll send Matheson around in the morning, and we'll see what makes sense." "Good! I like him. My pussy's startin' ta itch -- maybe I can get him ta road test it..." Tabitha chuckled. Armand shook his head. "Tabitha, do you LIKE sex?" "Well, yeah, when it ain't business," Tabitha replied. "It ain't big, since I get so much -- but I like havin' my clit diddled an' havin' my tube punched when I don' hafta worry 'bout whether the bastard doin' it is havin' a good time... Been a coupla days, now. I'm startin' ta have fond memories." Armand chuckled. "We should talk sometime -- I'm sure it would be educational." "Well, I ain't busy..." Armand, still chuckling, hung up. Tabitha looked up at Nora, "Your ol' man is a piece of work..." "Yeah," Nora agreed. "You have no idea..." "He calls a spade a spade, an' I like that..." Tabitha mused. "Good goddamn thing, since I figger I owe him an arm an' a leg..." Nora shrugged. "He'll find a way for you to pay. And depending on how you feel about it, it won't be too bad..." She grinned ferally, "On the other hand, if you buck him, he'll get a big kick out of making it painful. It's his way." "Yeh?" "Yeah. Ask my mother..." Nora shook her head. "Ask ANYBODY that lives at your house! Mama, he's got at least one outright slave runnin' 'round nekkid..." Nate blurted. "That ain't as surprisin' as it might be," Tabitha grunted. "I met a coupla girls who said he broke 'em in -- an' they're specialists, both inta kink..." "Yeah," Nora sighed. "I'm just learning about it, but Mom -- well, even though they're divorced, he's been using her as a training aid for years... Now that Nate and I are together, Daddy figures it's time I grew up and saw the real world. We moved back in last weekend, after the attack on Mom. For me, it's for the first time, but for Mom..." Nora shook her head. "Daddy makes no bones about the things he does -- there's even a room for it. He calls it 'the playroom'..." Tabitha nodded. "Well, I don' think he's gotta clue what the fuck he's gonna do wit' the likes o' ME!" She shrugged, then winced. "I don't suppose you went out and got them nipple rings?" 'Fuck, ' Nate thought to himself. "No, Mama." "I did." Nora dug in her purse and came up with a case. Inside was a pair of small gold barbells. She handed Tabitha the box, "They're only plated, but it's all the money I had on me when I went to the mall after school." "They'll do fine," Tabitha grunted, eyeing them. Tabitha snapped a glare at Nate, but Nora chopped it off, "Nate was at work -- besides, this was better done by a woman." Tabitha shrugged and nodded agreement. "Help me get this bandage off, then." She started digging at it, but the clips were around back. Nora stepped up on one side, and waved Nate into position on the other, "Just raise your arms." Tabitha did so and Nora leaned in, disconnecting the clips, then began unwinding the bandage, rolling it as she went. When it got to the point of being out of reach, she handed it to Nate, who brought it around his side, but didn't roll it. Nora gave him a frowning glance as she rolled up the slack; on the next pass, Nate rolled, too. The dozen wraps were undone in no time, exposing the gauze packings covering the wounds on Tabitha's breasts, and, more important, her needle- impaled nipples. Nora got a look, cradling a breast gently and trying to rotate the needle, then reached in her purse, bringing forth a bottle. "Antiseptic solution." She dribbled a little on Tabitha's left nipple and went to work on the needle again. "Shit burns," Tabitha grunted, hissing. "It's the right stuff," Nora replied. "I asked." "You're doin' fine." Tabitha fished a stud out of the jewelry box and handed it to Nate. "Open that -- I think it screws off." Nora nodded. "They're not beginner's studs, because the hole size was wrong. Beginner's just click over a ring, like post earrings. We'll have to be a little more careful." "You done good, Girl." "We'll see." Maybe the bar was too thick? Nora was worried, but given the size of the needle, which must have been for quilting, or something... Nate was standing there with it in two pieces; Nora took the stud and put the tip in contact with the not terribly sharp ball point of the needle, and began backing the needle out. Tabitha hissed and shifted a couple of times, but the stud followed the needle properly into her wounded nipple and out the other side. Nora applied another few drops of solution to the wound, then handed Nate the needle and held out her hand for the ball cover, which she then gently screwed on. "How's that?" "It'll be fine when it stops burnin'," Tabitha hissed. "Do the other one." Nora repeated the procedure, only realizing as she stepped back that she'd repeated the insertion exactly, rather than doing it mirror-image -- not that you could tell with the design of the studs. Besides, the guy who'd done it had pierced them both from right to left, anyway; to mirror image them, she'd have had to work the eye of the needle through the wound... Tears were streaming, but Tabitha murmured, "Thank you, Child." Nora smiled and picked up the wrap, and she and Nate began replacing it. Tabitha grunted, "Try ta do the nips last, and bring the end around so's I can open it. I think I wanta give 'em air..." Nora nodded, and the pair concentrated on covering the puncture wounds on the upper slopes of Tabitha's breasts and those in her ribs underneath. The change in wrappings allowed the clips to be set in Tabitha's left side. "Good. Awright, ya'll run along -- I ain't gonna be worth a shit fer awhile. Thanks fer comin'." As the pair hit the door, she said, "Boy, stay a minute." The look said she wanted to talk to Nate alone, so Nora stepped out to give them privacy, going to the elevator. Tabitha turned on Nate, "Look, you little dickhead! I'm impressed in spite of myself! That's a helluva girl you somehow tripped over, even settin' aside her daddy an' shit -- which I ain't sure I'm all that happy 'bout, anyway! Best you do right by her 'cause it don't look to me like they's better out there! You unnerstand, Boy?" "Yes'm." "Keep you're dick in your pants, 'cept when she says it's cool an' you'll be a happy motherfucker! I don' hafta ask if it's good shit, that's wrote all over your goofy face! Best you remember what it's like ta do without, if'n some other bitch waves her twat at ya!" "Ma! That's my woman! I ain't fuckin' stupid!" Nate howled, stung. "Well, you'd be the first man that wasn't!" Tabith shook her head. "Go on, get outta here! An' do sumpthin' nice fer her tonight, unnerstand? You're still inna doghouse!" "Yes, Mama..." Nate rolled his eyes on the way out. The elevator was just arriving. "What was that about?" Nora asked, as Nate joined her. "Mama approves of ya," Nate grinned as the pair stepped inside. ------- The main dinner seating at the mansion, for Armand -- and to a lesser extent, Jason and Sharon -- had been uneventful, with quiet conversation about the status of things. The Wench knelt at Sharon's right, eating nothing and hoping that someone would think to feed her later; at one point, Armand looked up and wondered aloud why he had an overseer. Sharon's response of, "I don't know, Armand," brought a grin, but Jason pointed out that the Wench needed a training Master. "She'll get fat and lazy and be useless for her primary function in Sharon's care..." Sharon glared at him, but conceded the possibility. "If her primary function is to be used as a fuck toy, you're probably right." "That's what it is," agreed Armand, "Isn't it, Wench?" "Yes, Master." "Fine." Sharon's glance at the Wench labeled her 'traitor', but the slave replied, "With respect, Mistress, it IS my job. Master has indicated that I am to await your pleasure, something I am more than happy to do, but I'm supposed to be a more general-purpose tool..." Armand looked amused, adding, "Sleeping with you could be considered training in the female arts, and waiting on you is good practice in servitude, but we need to maintain her ability to pleasure men, too." Sharon blushed fiercely at the allusion to their tryst earlier in the day, but managed to comment, "Charles managed to provide her daily dose last night..." Clearly enjoying the exchange, Armand inquired, "Should I ask him to help me keep YOU in tune?" Sharon opened her mouth to reply hotly, then closed it, mastering herself. Nothing she said here would make her safe -- if she dared Armand, Charles would have her bent over, sliding his cock in and out of her before the night was over. Similarly, if she hastened to deny the possibility, Armand would accept THAT as a challenge -- with the same result. Silence was the safe route... But Armand wasn't having any: "Well?" Sharon took a second pass at producing a safe answer. At the end of it -- a pregnant pause of some fifteen seconds -- she replied, "I don't have any real say in the matter." "What does THAT mean?" Armand pressed. Jason, off-side, was showing his teeth in that Death's head grin of his. "You will do as you wish, and I will... cope..." Armand put down his napkin. "This isn't dinner conversation. Let's adjourn to the study. Jason, you may call for Inez, if you wish. Sharon, you may bring the Wench..." "Felicia?" Sharon glanced over her shoulder. "I go if Mistress pleases," the Wench replied carefully. Armand turned from this and directed, "Jason, have Inez bring coffee. We have other matters to discuss, too." He rose and walked out. Jason followed after using the intercom, leaving the women alone. Sharon turned to the Wench. "I don't know if it's smart for you to be there..." "Me, either, Mistress -- Master seems to be starting on one of his moods..." "Why didn't you..." "... Stand up for myself? Why? Mistress, I WANT to be here! Since I was made a slave, I've been happy -- and absorbing an occasional cock or licking an occasional clit isn't an awful thing to me! We're different in that; I'd be just as happy sucking your clitty while Sir pounded his cock in my ass EVERY NIGHT -- and if it was Master, even better! I'm not going to pretend that I'm here against my will..." "If you go in there, you're going to end up doing something similar... And so will I!" "Actually, I imagine that you will get Master's primary attention..." the Wench replied ruefully. Sharon thought about it. "You'll end up licking me," she stated positively. "He'll want to embarrass me further over this morning..." The Wench nodded. "Undoubtedly, Mistress." Then she grinned. "The only way you'll win is to be a big girl about it." "Maybe," Sharon agreed, "but I'm going to avoid the whole thing if I can. Report to Sir." "Mistress." The Wench inclined her head, rose, and departed. Sharon squared her shoulders and departed for the study. Armand raised an eyebrow as she entered, indicating one of the plush leather chairs that dotted the room, "No Wench?" "I sent her to Charles." "She's had her lesbian activity for the day, then?" "Yes," Sharon replied, affecting unconcern. "So how was she?" "Okay. God knows I needed it, by the time we got around to it." Sharon continued to play the thing off. Armand sat, pensive. Sharon was carefully not allowing herself to be drawn; he needed to penetrate that. "Any plans to do it again?" What was the safe answer? "Nothing specific. If I need to." Armand nodded. Sharon was doing VERY well tonight at avoiding his barbs. Perhaps another tack... "You acknowledge your position here?" "My position?" Sharon came up short. "Yes. How would you describe your position in this household -- at bottom." "I don't understand." "Categorize yourself. Master, servant, client, employee... slave..." Armand eyed her, amused. 'Shit, shit, shit!' Sharon thought, 'He's going to rub my nose in things!' She thought furiously. Inez arrived with coffee, sitting it on the coffee table and then pouring and serving first Armand, then Jason, who murmured, "Remove your blouse, Slut." Inez did so, immediately, folding it in a businesslike manner, then turning to serve Sharon, impassive aside from her blush. Sharon took the coffee without comment. Inez turned to leave, but Jason stopped her with a hand, "Stay. Attend me." He pointed to the floor beside his chair, and Inez knelt. Armand took the opportunity. "How does your position differ from that of Inez, then?" "Inez is an employee, sort of," Sharon replied. Armand nodded. "She is my employee, but not Jason's. How does Inez's relationship to Jason differ from yours to me?" He locked eyes with Sharon, who sat, silent, staring back. There was silence for a full minute, then Armand sighed. "Take off your blouse, Sharon." Belligerence suffused her features; she put down her cup and made to rise. Armand merely continued to stare. Resignation overcame bluster, and she settled back, looking disgruntled. Grasping her blouse at the waist, she flipped it over her head. "You can be neat, too," Armand admonished, stopping her toss in mid- gesture. "Remove the bra." "Fine." Sharon folded the blouse, setting it beside her chair, then removed her bra. "Now what?" "You were telling me how your status differs from Inez's." Sharon glanced over at Inez; the look she got was... sympathetic. Still, she said nothing. Jason made the next move, turning to Inez. "Kneel up." Inez's eyes flashed around the group. "Where, Master?" "In plain sight. Get out of your skirt." "Yes, Master." Inez stood and stepped out of her long skirt, an act which left her nude, aside from a certain blush. She was wet, too -- she knew what was coming... She knelt up next to the coffee table, gazing back at her Master. Armand snapped his fingers. "Dammit, Armand!" Sharon burst out. "Yes? Do you perceive a difference yet?" Armand's brow lowered. "DO AS YOU ARE TOLD!" "Shit." Sharon got up and stepped out of her skirt. "Panties? How many times..." Armand shook his head. "Come here and remove my belt." Sharon laid down her skirt and came forward gingerly. "I know you like to remove them..." she temporized. "THIS time, I may remove them with the belt!" Armand ranted. Sharon's hands shook at Armand's belt. She was over the line, now -- defiance was over. Now she would pay -- and she knew it. "Please destroy them," she implored. "They're really there for your pleasure..." "Are they?" Armand mused as the belt came free. He held out his hand for it, "Perhaps. Turn around." Sharon did so. Armand reached out and grasped them by the crotch, ripping them away with a single savage jerk, then he stood up. "Go over and bend over the chair. Brace yourself on the back of it." Nothing could save her now; Sharon did as she was told. Armand didn't make her wait; he stepped up and the belt whistled in the air. Sharon screamed, and a long red mark appeared on her right ass cheek. "No..." SMACK! "EEEEEE!" "More..." SMACK! "AUGH!" "Panties..." SMACK! "OWWW!" "EVER!" SMACK! "OOOOOOHHHH!" "Do you understand?" "Yes! Yes! Oh, oh, oh..." Sharon gingerly rubbed her ass, which was now crisscrossed with red welts. Jason snapped his fingers and Inez drew her eyes away from Sharon's humiliation. "Come here. Open my pants and suck my cock." Inez did as she was told, gently pulling Jason's trousers to his knees and then leaning in to make oral love to his erection. It was more than just a blow job; one look told you it was a labor of love. Sharon, looking for some kind of distraction from her abused ass, watched as Inez sucked him in and licked and kissed his length. Jason hissed and leaned up so he could maul his slave's breasts. Armand resumed his chair, then snapped his fingers. Sharon glanced around, and he merely raised his eyebrows. Sharon minced painfully over to him and worked at his fly, then pulled off his shoes before coming back to fully remove his trousers; experience told her that Armand didn't like having his trousers bunched around his knees or ankles. As she knelt to take his cock into her mouth, Armand asked again, "And the difference between your estate and Inez's is?" "None," Sharon murmured quietly before snaking out her tongue to bathe his erection, "None at all." Saying anything else was a total waste of time, and would only result in more pain -- besides, it was true, wasn't it? "Well," Armand murmured, "there is ONE difference; Inez thoroughly understands her state, while YOU must be reminded almost constantly. But then, since these little contests of wills are a source of entertainment, I am content to put up with them." He relaxed, enjoying Sharon's efforts. "You need to compete with Inez, here..." Sharon, already willing, redoubled her efforts -- but Armand had an idea. "Go suck Jason -- I want a direct comparison." Sharon looked up, stricken, but Armand was firm, and she was beyond the point of resistance. "Go!" he insisted, "And do a good job!" Jason grinned and nudged Inez, who knew better than to argue. The two women exchanged embarrassed glances as they passed one another on the way to the other woman's master. Inez knelt up before Armand, who murmured, "Go deep." She pulled back her thick black hair, took a breath and lowered her mouth on Lord Armand's cock. Armand took the time to taunt Sharon as she reluctantly lowered herself into position, "It's not like you haven't given another man a blowjob before -- I have video!" "Armand!" Sharon wailed, "I was tied up! I had no choice!" "Do you have any now?" Sharon sighed, "No." Gingerly, she began lapping at Jason's cock. "Grab her by the hair and face-fuck her if she's inadequate," Armand directed. Sharon didn't see the wink that passed between the men; she dove on Jason's cock, sucking energetically. Jason settled back to enjoy it -- he knew without even discussing it with Armand that Sharon was NOT his to do with as he pleased, whether she was allowed to think so, or not; similarly, Armand would observe limits with Inez. But the women didn't need to know that... There was a minute of relative silence, punctuated by sucking noises. "Well?" Armand asked. "She's good, but I like Inez better," Jason opined. "I may just be prejudiced." "Perhaps Sharon is merely better practiced at servicing my idiosyncrasies," Armand replied. "More experience may improve her. While Inez is more than adequate, I enjoy Sharon's efforts a bit more, too." "Could it be that they're not trying as hard?" Jason wondered aloud. Both women went for depth, lodging their current partner's cocks in their throats. Neither of them wanted to deal with the logical consequences of THAT assumption! Armand's chuckle rumbled, "No, I don't think so. I think it is mere familiarity..." There was a collective mental sigh of relief, but neither woman let up. "Want to try her pussy?" Sharon stopped in mid-stroke. What? Humiliation flooded her. He wouldn't! Yes, he would... Jason's hand on the back of her head put her back in gear. "Sharon seems to think..." Jason began. "Sharon, are you doing a bit of independent thinking, here?" Armand reproved. Sharon kept sucking, waving her hand behind her in negation while she polished Jason's knob like it was the most important thing in the world. Maybe he wouldn't... It was a forlorn hope. "Sharon, get up and settle yourself on Jason's cock," Armand instructed. Sharon rose up and turned around, her mouth opening to protest -- but the look on Armand's face silenced her. Her shoulders slumped in resignation; Armand was just going to use her and discard her, like all of the other sluts. Her eyes pled as she reached down and positioned Jason's cock, then slowly began to settle onto it. Jason, uncertain just how far Armand was going, waited until his glans passed her opening before directing, "Inez." Inez hopped right up; if Miz Sharon had to ride her Master, her job was clear. The two women locked eyes as each settled onto the cock of the other; neither particularly wanted to be where she was, and each woman's eyes pled with the other for forgiveness -- but each did what she was directed to do, settling on the cock assigned to her and moving up and down. Armand let things ride for about thirty seconds, then asked, "Well?" "Nice, but I think Inez has adapted to me." "Hmmmm. She's not goofing off, is she?" The question had the same effect on both women as when it was asked during the blowjob; each made every effort to ensure a favorable review. "I don't think so. Maybe it's the position?" Armand shrugged. Inez was doing fine, and no doubt Sharon was, too -- it was all part of the game. "Doggie style?" "Sounds good." Jason swatted Sharon on the ass -- nowhere near the shot that he might have unloaded on Inez. "Up, slut! Doggie style!" Armand urged Inez up similarly, and got up behind her, flashing a hand signal to move them close together to Jason while the women settled onto their hands and knees. Jason took it up, "Get a little closer, there, I want to watch Inez get off, the slut... Help me get out of these pants and shoes!" Sharon turned to assist, as servicing Jason seemed to be her current function. Armand knelt up, seated himself in Inez, and started to stroke. Jason toed off his shoes and allowed Sharon to hold his trousers in place while he stepped out of them, then grunted, "All right, let's go!" Sharon dropped and spun, and Jason slipped his cock between her labia. The two women were face to face, a few inches apart when the men took up their action. Both women were conditioned to orgasm under worse conditions than these -- a little humiliation added spice. The men stroked away, each watching his woman get aroused despite herself as she rode the other's partner's erection. Attempts by each to control her arousal failed, and soon each woman was panting and grunting, each unable to resist the efforts of the man coupling with her -- and the sight of her opposite number's arousal just steepened the slope... Armand, watching Sharon, sensed the approach of her orgasm, and gilded the lily, "Now kiss, you, two -- french! I want to see some tongue!" "Ohmigod!" Sharon moaned, but Inez didn't allow her to disobey, plastering her lips against Sharon's open mouth and sliding her tongue through the opening. Sharon, caught by surprise, sucked it instinctively -- and then her eyes rolled up. "Mmmm! Mmmm! Mmmm! Mmmm!" she moaned into Inez's mouth. Inez held her there with a hand to the back of her head, but Sharon didn't care -- she was too busy cumming! The taste and feel of Sharon's wild reaction -- and Armand reaching down and pinching one of her big nipples -- brought Inez off, too, whining through her nose as her mouth was busy. Armand smiled. "Time to switch, I think..." Jason nodded, and each Master withdrew and plugged into his own slave. The women broke the kiss, glazed; Sharon mewled in pleasure as Armand penetrated her. Inez purred as Jason's cock entered her, and each woman surrendered to the pleasure of her mate's efforts. Furious fucking ensued. The men had more or less been fooling around; now, they went chasing their own pleasure and the women were dragged along, willy-nilly. Sharon rested her head against Inez's shoulder as Armand pounded her into her opposite number with his metronomic stroke; Inez did the same to Sharon to balance things. The room was alive with grunts and mewls and moans and groans as the four of them raced towards orgasm. Armand arrived first, grunting and burying himself in Sharon's unresisting tunnel, crushing himself against her pubic bone. That -- and the feel of him pulsing his seed into her -- set Sharon off; she raised her head and moaned loudly, then bit Inez on the shoulder in her passion. Inez took the bite in the spirit it was given, melded the pain with her arousal, and began her orgasm, groaning in tune to Jason's stroke, "UuuUUuuUUuuUUuuUUuuUUuuhh!!" Her clenching abdominal muscles assisted her pussy in wringing Jason's cock, giving him that extra little bit of sensation that brought HIM over the brink, too, emptying himself in his accustomed silence. Finished, the males backed off and settled themselves in their original chairs; Jason gave Inez a swat on the ass as he passed and murmured "Cleanup time..." and she obliged, crawling forward and licking away the mess, sucking their combined spend from his pubes. Armand murmured, "Sharon," and she acknowledged, also crawling forward and going to work. Silence reigned while the women worked and the men concentrated on enjoying it. When Sharon sat up, Armand murmured, "More coffee?" as if little or nothing had occurred, and Jason muttered, "Inez..." There WAS a pecking order, after all, and Inez was at the bottom. She rose and tried to ignore the juice running down her leg as she reached for the coffee service. In the meantime, Armand rose and announced, "I'm moving to the couch. You're with me, bitch." Sharon blinked, rose, followed, and stretched herself out on the cool leather with her head in his lap at his gestured directions, somewhat dazed. 'Bitch' was an appellation that wouldn't thrill most women and Armand had called her that exactly once since the divorce, but it had been a favorite term during their marriage... Jason moved, too, to a couch opposite; Inez moved the three cups to the coffee table and freshened them, glancing at her Master for disposition instructions afterward. Jason eyed her for a moment and patted the seat beside him; Inez took up a position mirroring Sharon. Armand, distractedly mauling Sharon's right breast, murmured, "There is the issue of Pinkham..." Jason collected his coffee cup and sipped, nodding. "The little game we played with his three lieutenants might have been enough -- but then again, it might not." "Do we know what he's doing?" Armand squeezed Sharon's breast, "Stay awake, I may ask your opinion..." Sharon came up short, amazed at herself. It'd been nearly two decades since Armand had offered her much in the way of 'normal' intimacy, and she'd settled right in... What was she, nuts? "Can I have my coffee?" Armand considered, sighed. "Yes. Get a napkin -- you're leaking on the couch." Jason, watching the exchange, chuckled. "You, too, slut. Plug that leak. Then come back; you're not drinking coffee, and your opinion is irrelevant." To Armand, he said, "As far as we can tell, he continues to move forward, cowing the local whores with the video." Armand, rubbing Sharon's back, grunted, "I never planned to get into prostitution -- but there is the open issue of what to do with Mr. Adams' mother..." "It's a mess..." "I don't know why I got into it, other than the fact that she's Nate's mother. But she's a character; I'll come up with something. Do we have those pictures Scott took?" "The ones of Pinkham's boys with cucumbers stuffed up their asses?" Jason's eyes lit. Sharon stifled a snort; this was the first she'd heard of THAT... "Yes. I'm thinking that they should go into general distribution." Armand mused. "I think we ought to pick Pinkham up and let Tabitha do him with a strap-on -- then release pictures of THAT!" Armand shook his head. "It'd bring on a bloodbath. What we did was effective reciprocation, but it needs to go public. Pinkham is smarter than the average pimp, but he uses traditional tools to keep the girls in line -- drugs, intimidation. I think there are better ways -- real protection, medical care." "Sounds like that old Henry Winkler movie where they ran a cat house out of the morgue..." Sharon piped up. "Ummm, there's an idea..." Jason murmured. "Set up a cat house. Lure the girls off the streets. Leave Pinkham with the low-budget alternative." "Hard to advertise without inviting police raids..." Armand mused. "Staying a step ahead of the police might leave us two ahead of customers. Still, it's a thought." "Use a couple of streetwalkers to vet clients and advertise," Sharon offered. "If a john looks clean, she gives them the address..." "Hmmm," Armand mused. "There would appear to be options..." The phone rang. It was Tabitha Adams, wondering when she would be getting out of the hospital. Armand returned to the couch, chuckling. "Speak of the Devil..." "Hmmm?" "Miz Adams is tiring of the accommodations at County General." He reached around and tweaked Sharon's right nipple. "Go get me a robe and pajamas, and take your things back to your room. Get yourself a robe, too -- Nora and her beau are on the way home." Sharon nodded and left -- she was going to argue about getting dressed? Not likely... ------- Ten minutes later, Phillippe stuck his head in the kitchen, grinning, "Nora and her boyfriend should be here in ten or fifteen minutes." "Thanks," Velma replied. "What you grinnin' 'bout?" "Miz Sharon gave me the message. I passed her in the hall, buck nekkid, carryin' her clothes. Boss is exercising his authority, I figure." "An' yo' be surprised?" Velma replied. "Woman was MARRIED ta da Boss -- yo' 'spect she ain't broke in?" Phillippe shook his head and ducked out. The kids came in a bit later, and Velma fussed over them, making sure they had everything. Miss Nora was a nice girl, and young Nate didn't seem to be your average 'hood hooligan, either. Conversation at the kitchen table sounded like it was between two mind-readers; ahh, young love... Velma closed down the kitchen and lumbered off to her room, her mind awhirl with bittersweet romantic visions. ------- "Hey, Man -- you got any of those nips you like to stock? I need a shot..." Ed asked Phillippe, sticking his head in the younger man's door. "You don't drink," Phillippe eyed the carpenter suspiciously. "It's for medicinal purposes." "You oughta get medicine, then," Phillippe groused, but surfaced a tiny bottle of vodka. Ed frowned, "Got any whiskey?" "This is closer to pure alcohol." "Oh, all right. I'll get ya some when I go out, okay?" "Yeah, yeah. Get outta here!" Phillippe had just been getting ready to start a porn flick; thirty seconds later, Ed would have caught him with his dick in his hand. On the other hand, if he hadn't been preoccupied, he might have questioned Ed more closely... Ed went off down the hall, grumbling. Here he had a whiskey bottle for cover, and Phillippe gives him vodka. Damn! THAT could get transparent pretty quick... ------- Chapter 32B: More Object Lessons -- and Velma Gets a Visitor Thirty minutes later, he was as ready as he was ever going to be, having used the last few drops in the bottom of the bottle as after shave and the nip as mouthwash. The shot steadied his nerves a bit, too, which was suddenly important; it was one thing to TALK about staggering into a woman's room looking for pussy, and quite another to actually DO it! Velma lumbered out of her bathroom, having washed her hands to remove the powerful female musk on them from the masturbation session she'd indulged in moments before. 'Dem kids is prolly bangin' like jackrabbits, ' Velma sighed to herself, sliding under the sheets. She glanced at her thin cotton nightie lying on the chair, but she was worked up and generating enough heat to raise the room temperature. Her ribs were wet and sticky where her huge jugs lay on them, so she lay down flat on her back and pushed them off-side to drape under her armpits. If she got worked up again, she could always haul 'em back up where she could get at her nipples. Damn that Ed! She'd been hair-trigger for days since he started makin' them noises! She was still trying to get her mind away from 'crazy shit' and compose herself for sleep when the outer door to her rooms banged open, smacking the wall. A figure staggered through, then turned and pressed it gently closed with the exaggerated care of the thoroughly soused. "Who dat? Ed?" "It's the Lone fuckin' Ranger, you silly bitch! Wake your big ass up -- I like my women to know I was there..." The dim figure weaved through the sitting room, waving what appeared to be a bottle, bashing it on the bedroom door. "Ed! Whatchew doin' here?" "I come ta see if your big ass is softer than my bunk..." Ed replied, dropping the bottle on the night table. He leaned over her, taking in bare shoulders in the gloom, "Huh, I figgered you'd wear a circus tent to bed or somethin'..." "Ed! You ain't s'posed ta be here!" Velma came bolt upright in her bed, and the sheet fell a considerable distance -- but not enough to uncover nipples... "Am, too! You invited me!" "Ah did not! Whatchew doin'?" "You're right -- it was more like a dare! I'm takin' off my jeans -- I don't sleep in 'em, ya know!" "Ed, you crazy fookin' bastid! You don' jes' come inta a woman's room an' crawl in bed wit' 'em!" "What? I gotta kiss you or somethin'? If you're gonna start screamin', get it over with, so I don't have to go huntin' my jeans on the floor..." He stepped out of them and bent to shuck out of his shorts; a stiff probe became visible in the darkness. Velma gazed at it, transfixed, while Ed threw his T-shirt over his head. "Lessee what we got here..." Ed tossed back the sheet and reached for the bedside lamp. "No!" A hand shot out and grabbed his, then jerked him, off-balance onto the bed. "Ain't no fookin' way you's gonna see me nekkid!" If'n he did, the bastid would run off, Velma figured -- and it was too late for THAT! Ed found himself draped crossways over a considerable mass of soft flesh. "Awright," he mumbled, trying to find a way to lurch up without actually using Velma's body to brace on, "bein' you're so insistent... Got that flour?" "You bastid." There wasn't a whole lot of heat behind the comment, though. Velma was deep into the realization that there was a hard body draped over her. Was Ed REALLY gonna fuck her? Was he even capable? The rod of hot flesh burning into her hip said he was... Ed's right hand homed in on the heat source, "Hey, pretty wet down here. You been playin' with yourself?" Palm flat on her springy pubic hair, he wormed two fingers between her fleshy outer lips, finding the hard bump of her clit almost instantly. "Oooooohhhhh!" Velma moaned at the touch. "Damn you, Ed! Cain't you say anythin' nice?" "I gotta start now?" Draped across her as he was, the mass of her left breast was actually convenient to get to, hanging off the side of her body like that. You couldn't really see the areola in the dark, but you couldn't miss the stiff nipple! It was a mouthful in comparison to anything Ed had ever dealt with... "AAAAaaaaahhhh!" Velma was halfway to orgasm already! It was as if the mouth on her nipple and the fingers on her clit were electrocuting her; she was twitching as nerves in the two hot spots made her jump all over... Her left hand came up and held his face against her breast of its own accord, while her right went feeling for the hard, hot flesh at her right side... Ed had a mouthful and then some, and wondered if the big hand holding him in place was going to smother him -- for a fat bitch she was STRONG! Well, he'd worry when things got bad... He put his mouth on autopilot and started concentrating on the games his hand was playing in her increasingly soaking wet gash. Everything said he was in for one helluva ride... A hot hand wrapped itself around his hard-on and Velma grunted, "Oh, Lordy, that's SOOOO nice..." but he didn't know whether she meant his dick or feelings in general, since she started shaking like she was being jackhammered and went, "AAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!" Yep, THAT was a cum! From the way she clutched his head to her and squeezed his cock like it was going to make it longer and narrower, he figured it'd been pretty good, too! Breaking loose, he wheezed, "Easy, I want to be able to use that thing!" Velma let go as if the shaft had burned her hand! "It's okay, ain't it?" she worried, breathless from the shockwaves that poured through her. "Yeah, it's fine. You want it?" "Uh huh!" "Roll over and git your knees under ya, then," Ed directed. "I ain't sure missionary is gonna work, but doggy-style will for sure!" Velma did as she was told, letting the implications of the comment go. Ed knelt up and started probing. "Wrong hole, ya bastid! Down a bit!" Ed chuckled, muttering, "Another time," under his breath, and shifted lower. There had to be a hole in there... "Damn, I know this thing's been used once..." His cock lodged in an opening that didn't seem big enough, "That it?" "Yeh," Velma panted. "Hey, what 'bout rubbers?" "I didn't bring no rubbers. YOU got any rubbers? You ain't on the Pill, or some shit?" Ed got uneasy. "Mebbe..." He started to withdraw. Desperation put a hand like a steel claw on his right arm. "NO! Don' you go anywheres! You goin' do this thing, NOW! Y'all heah me!" The eyes that locked with his over her shoulder showed whites all the way around the pupils. "Bein' you insist... Take it easy on my fuckin' arm!" Ed lugged plywood, cement, four-by-four timbers -- but he didn't have a grip like THAT! Velma backed off, but she didn't let go yet. "Yo' git it in," she muttered. "Ah's jes' offa my red time -- we be safe..." It was the truth, but that was mere coincidence. She'd have told him she was infertile, or had a hysterectomy, or ANY damn thing to get the feel of... ah, yeah, that was it! -- firm flesh passing through the ring at the mouth of her cooze, filling her... "Oooooooohhhhh!" Ed didn't know it, but his was only the fourth cock to enter Velma's vaginal passage in thirty-seven years! The first time had been back home when she was twelve, when some fool high on ganja had nabbed her in a cane field, fooled by her already oversize titties into thinking she was older. She'd screamed and cried and bled like a stuck pig, causing her attacker to get suddenly paranoid and abandon the attack. The second was at a wild party in her late twenties; she'd been so far gone on rum and pot that she remembered the act vaguely, but not how she felt -- or even who the boy was. Somewhere in the middle, she'd passed out, and tryin' ta find out who done it afterwards was like pullin' teeth... The third time had been 'da Boss', and it had been almost like a doctor visit; he'd brought her into the playroom, had her slip down her panties, put her in a chair with stirrups, flipped up her skirt, and penetrated her, dry, wearing a rubber. He wasn't there long -- she didn't think he even came -- it was just an exercise in making her understand that this wasn't just any old job and she might have to put up with some shit. 'Da Boss' did all of his female servants, and she was no exception -- end of story. But Armand HAD hung out in there long enough for it to stop hurting and become VERY pleasant; later, picking up on his habits from the conversations of some of his other conquests, she decided that he'd deliberately left her hanging without an orgasm -- a sensation she discovered on her own with the help of her fingers. Over time, it became obvious that a good fuck was something that many women would go to some lengths to obtain, and that men were even more adamant about it -- but while disinterest had turned to curiosity and morphed to craving, opportunities hadn't really picked up... All Ed knew was that Velma was ungodly tight for such a big bitch... "Jeezus! Don't ya ever use this thing?" "Whatchew think? Yo' seen a line outside 'a my do'? Pipe down an' move dat ting -- oooh! Holy Jeezus! Gawd!" Ed had bottomed out, and Velma was experiencing new things! So THIS was how it was supposed ta be! Ed was gritting his teeth to keep from blowing. Ol' Velma's twat was hot and wet and fit like a glove, producing instant over-stimulation. Who'd have thought that the silly bag of jell-o had a pussy like that? Damn! Pulling back out was even better than sliding in; Velma's cunt fought every step of the way, clutching him around the ring where the head of his cock met the shaft. "Damn!" "Sumpthin' wrong?" Shit, he wasn't gonna stop, was he? "Nope," Ed grunted, starting the second full stroke, "Just surprised, is all." The second stroke went faster, but was just as good; Velma merely seemed to be conforming to his shape. "Surprised?" "Damn nice in there..." Ed was getting rolling, now. "Spread your knees a little, an' drop your head, so's I can bang your clit better." "Oooooohhh! Take all you want -- Ah got's plenty..." Following instructions brought instant benefit. "Hunh... Hunh... Hunh... Hunh..." Velma started getting that feeling she got when her l'il nubbin got hard and she couldn't keep her fingers away -- but there was somethin' added, the sweet feelin' of havin' somethin' soft an' hard at the same time slidin' back and forth in there, touchin' places that hadn't BEEN touched before... "OoOH shit! Ah'm -- OOOOOHHHH! -- Gonna... EEEEYAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!" Velma shook like a wet dog, muscles jumping, while bright colored lights flashed before her eyes. Ed hung on for the ride; control was out of his hands for the moment. In fact, it was out of his hands in more ways than one -- he couldn't keep his nut in the presence of all that frantic activity! He hauled himself against Velma's jiggling ass and let her pussy -- which was going nuts -- milk him dry, "NNNNNNNNnnnnnnggggggggghhhh! Damn!" Velma felt the first pulse, and suddenly her whole attention was on the feel of 'dat ting' as it swelled and shifted and hardened even further and squirted jets of cum in her cooze. It was like something urgently important was occurring, something monumental, something she didn't have a word for, something that eclipsed what was inarguably the most incredible orgasm she'd ever had. It seemed as if her whole consciousness was plugged into the lining of her cooze, feeling the impact of every drop while Ed poured spunk into it. When it was over and Ed's muscles unlocked and he let go of the death grip he had on Velma's heavy shanks and straightened up, she murmured, "Dat's it?" "Well, yeah," Ed grunted, a bit embarrassed. "I usually last longer, but it's been a while, and I didn't expect your pussy to work it like a vacuum cleaner... Lemme get a snooze in and I can go another round, probably," (he hoped -- it'd been a pretty impressive nut). "Second time'll last longer." "Lemme up, then," she countered. "Ah gotta go ta da bathroom. Yo' don' want me layin' 'round wit' a cooze fulla yo' drippin's." Funny, the dead feeling that settled in her chest when she said that... Ed unsocketed his shrinking cock. "Awright. Don't take all night -- I'm gonna have to pee, too." Velma, backing off the bed stopped, "How yo' know dat?" "What?" "Yo's gonna hafta pee?" "It's how we clean out the tubes, after..." "Oh," Velma's grin was barely visible in the gloom, "Ah getcha." Ed, washed out, collapsed on the bed and watched her go -- not that he could see a damned thing in the gloom. With relaxation and recovery came buyer's remorse -- what the fuck kinda fool fucks a woman who works and lives in the same house he did? Now that the little head was momentarily taken care of, the one with the brain in it started up and wanted accountability. What kinda stupid bastard fucks a three hundred fifty pound woman? God knew what she looked like without clothes; she damned sure didn't want him to know -- the bathroom light hadn't come on until the door was firmly closed. Add to that the fact that she was black, and from some damned island place, and spoke English like Aunt Jemima... What the fuck was he thinkin'? 'I probably oughta run, not walk, outta here... ' he thought to himself, but nothing moved. 'Besides, I gotta work with the woman -- no sense pissin' her off, ' he temporized. 'We'll go another round, and I'll go back to my room and if she gets all cow-eyed, I'll tell her some tale and let her down easy.' Velma sat on the toilet, letting what felt like a pint of Ed's goo drip from her, wondering if she was going to laugh or cry. The preceding few short minutes had been the most amazing thing she could ever remember having done -- but it was over, and Velma doubted that there would ever be a rematch. Some instinct kept telling her she should be hanging on to the stuff seeping out of her -- which was jus' fookin' CRAZY! Like she wanted ED's kids? Of course, on second thought, ol' Ed wasn't THAT objectionable -- an' he WAS jus' 'bout the only bastid ta climb between her legs and leave a load... Bein' two of the others definitely didn't, and she wasn't sure about the third, he might BE the only one! One thing was certain -- if she got stupid and started makin' sweet noises, he'd run like Hell -- IF he wasn't gone already... Sighing, she collected a wad of toilet paper and wiped herself, got up and gave herself a quick look in the mirror -- what parts she could actually see. Turning off the light, she staggered out through the open door, blinded. The bedside lamp clicked on. "It'd help if you could see..." "Holy Jeezus! Turn dat ting off!" Velma made for the bed at a dead run. Crossing the bed, she reached for the lamp, but Ed swatted her hand away. "I gotta see where I'm goin'," he argued, wrestling her arm as she made a second attempt. Fuckin' woman was STRONG -- maybe he WOULD end up chained to the headboard! Velma, realizing that fighting him naked was giving him exactly what she didn't want, stopped and slid under the sheets. Ed got up and swaggered off to the bathroom, making it obvious that HE didn't care if SHE saw his scraggly grey chest hair, his skinny shanks, or his slight paunch. "Leave the damned thing on until I get back -- I don't wanna knock something over, or break a fuckin' leg..." He clicked on the bathroom light and arranged himself in front of the toilet, pissing on automatic while he mentally reprocessed Velma's frantic dash across the room and visuals from the lamp fight. Okay, so, she was a hippo, all right -- she'd managed to jiggle in the damnedest places on that run! Ed grinned to himself. Funny how much less objectionable that was after you'd soaked your pecker in a woman... Tits hung to her waist, but, damn! They were the size of a couple of small watermelons -- whaddya want! How the fuck was somethin' like that gonna stick straight out? Big rolls under that, and he still hadn't SEEN her twat -- she'd run hunched over -- but from tussling with her he realized that what was there wasn't ALL jello. There were strong muscles in there... Velma, the sheet drawn up to her neck, listened to Ed's stream hitting the bowl -- a sound she'd really never heard before. 'Damn, dat ting can shoot!' It seemed that much odder that it hung limp when he came out of the bathroom moments later -- did peeing wear it out? "Howcum you're all limp?" Ed looked at her like she had two heads. "Can't pee with a hard dick..." He stood there, scratching his head. "You ask questions like a fourteen-year-old. How many men you been with?" Velma knew instantly that if she wasn't careful, Ed would be off like a shot. She broke off her wonderment that that thing could blast away a solid stream of water when limp and answered carefully. "T'ree -- fo'," she replied. "Some of 'em wasn't memorable." Ed absorbed this, drawing the correct conclusion -- at least part of Velma's sex life had been conducted while dead drunk or high. He grabbed the sheet, "Well, lemme under there..." He fought the urge to jerk the thing down, knowing that it would only lead to fear and embarrassment on Velma's part. Someday, though, she was gonna have to show him the whole package... Shit! Where did THAT thought come from? This little bout was undoubtedly it... Ed's pride had taken a beating from his quick finish -- but she HAD gotten HER nut, and it had apparently been a big one. Still, if he wasn't memorable, either, it might make the future easier on them both... Velma controlled access with a thick arm, granting it, but not displaying any more flesh than necessary. Ed slid in and she snapped off the light while he was settling himself against her. "Dat ting gonna get hard agin?" she asked. "Yeah," Ed rumbled, "It'd probably be easier if I had a quick nap, but it'll probably pop up if you give it some entertainment. Gimme a tit..." Hands and mouth went questing. "Whuffo'? Uhhhh! Oh! Dat!" Ed's lips locked on a nipple and resistance to the idea disappeared. Something about what he was doing with his lips and teeth made sparks fly... Ed reflected that a kid would have no trouble finding THIS nipple -- it was probably full baby-bottle sized when erect! The quiet groans and movement told him that Velma wasn't exactly despising the attention... "It'll perk up faster if you play with it a bit..." -- like moaning, squirming women didn't give it a jumpstart... Velma felt around gingerly and found Ed's already rising member. "Mmmmm," she murmured, feeling the thing growing and stiffening in her hand, "dat's nice!" Ed, assuming she meant his nipple work, went groping for the other. The woman did NOT have soft hands -- cooking and such HAD to be some work -- but surprisingly, that didn't seem to be a problem. The firm, muscular grip of the hand that instinctively jacked him felt just fine... Velma found the head of Ed's cock to be amazing -- it was SOOOO soft and rubbery, but smooth and almost frictionless... "Yo' be drippin'..." "Ain't pee -- it's lube. Pre-cum..." Ed unlatched to mumble. Didn't the woman know ANYTHING? Something about that bothered the back of his mind... Velma verified this. Yeah, piss wasn't slick, like this stuff... "Oh. Ummmmm..." Her attention drifted elsewhere. "Uuuuuhhhh!" Ed groaned. Velma's thumb was doing this dance on the head of his dick, and the thing was approaching the hardness of an iron bar. Time to play in the wet spot... He shifted his hand downward, hunting her twat by the heat it was giving off. "Spread 'em." Velma's knees opened wide to grant clearance past her heavy inner thighs, and three fingers began sliding up and down her damp slot, spreading juices already forming there. "Lordy, lordy..." What was SOOO good about having somebody else's hand there? Her nubbin was all hard even before Ed's middle finger started pushing it around, wiping back and forth over it, bringing waves of pleasure... His finger slid on down and seated itself in her hole, and she felt a wash of wetness rolling down from deep inside to prepare her for the larger invader to come. "Agghhh... SOOOOO good..." "You be wantin' a little dick, then?" Ed husked. Obviously, he was good to go... At this rate, she might jerk him off... "I be wantin' DAT dick..." Velma squeezed it gently, feeling it pulse, alive, in her hand. "Ah don' think it's... ooooohhhhh... little..." "Flattery will get you fucked..." 'Jeezus, when did I become a fuckin' wit?' Ed wondered to himself. "Okay, if we're gonna do it like this, you gotta bring your knees up to your chest..." "Ma chest?" Velma responded, surprised. "Dere's shit in da way..." "Outside of them," Ed chuckled. "The higher and flatter the better, so I can get all along here..." His hand stroked the flat plane of her vulva from her clitoris almost all the way to her asshole. "Yo' gotta help," she hissed. "Tuck 'em between..." Velma tugged at his hard-on. "Okay." Ed rolled over onto his knees, shaking his head in wonderment. Who'd have thought that tits could get in the way? He reached down and grabbed a jiggling globe in each hand and pressed them together. Velma levered her knees up and grabbed them, trapping her jugs between, "Lahk dat?" "Yeah..." Ed knelt up, staring at what little of his partner he could make out in the dimness. Squeezed between her legs like that, those jugs might stick up far enough for him to chew a nipple, once he was settled in... Maybe he'd get her one of those corset things to hold them up... What? He shook his head. 'I'm drifting into la la land... ' By then, though, his rubbery tip had found her hole and anything more that what was happening at the current moment disappeared from the consciousness of them both as he sank into her buttery depths. Buttery. Yeah, that was it -- warm butter, over a surface that fit like a soft glove. Pussy was a wonderful thing, and THIS pussy was some of the best he'd ever sunk his prick into. Probably because it was here, now, but... He bottomed out, mashed against the hard knot of Velma's cervix while his pubic bone ground against hers, trapping her clit between. "Go slow..." she moaned, writhing. Ed's pole was ironing every wrinkle in her innards, and she loved the feelings that action was providing her; instinctively, she knew that when he sped up, some of it would go away. She wanted a kiss, but he was bolt-upright, far away... They'd never done that, and might never get around to it -- but that wasn't something she needed to worry about now... Ed backed off slowly, shifting his stance so his hands joined hers at her knees. He took in a breath and inhaled an incredible aroma. One whiff left him fully energized! "Damn! Nothin' like the smell of wet pussy!" Again, he sank his meat into her quaking tunnel, while she moaned, "Oh, Gawd!" in aroused embarrassment. The slow penetration thing only worked for a few strokes before she loosened up enough to accommodate him; there was no complaint when he shifted gears and picked up the stroke. Instead, the silly twat started constantly moaning, "Ooohhh... Ooohhh... Ooohhh... Ooohhh..." and snapping her head back and forth. Well, he was hissing and grunting like a steam engine, too, for that matter; whatever the outside looked like, her insides were USDA Grade A Number One Premium Fucking pussy! Ed's most recent partner had been the Wench, the previous week -- and, frankly, he never expected to experience better -- but Velma's twat had a certain luxuriousness to it... It was just better shit, no question about it! Velma was in Heaven! Ed was filling her chock full -- topping it off with a crash against her nubbin -- about once a second! Her titties were rolling up and down on her chest -- if it wasn't for the knees trapping them, they'd be all over the place! If Ed went wild on her, she'd probably end up with two black eyes, but for now, things were just FINE! She shifted her fingers, and suddenly Ed found that they were intertwined with his -- which was the closest they'd come to intimacy, sex notwithstanding. Her grip signaled urgency, so Ed jacked it up a bit. Velma instinctively started this thing where she arched her back on the out-stroke and hunched, lifting her pelvis to take him in -- something that added a surprising layer of sensation for them both -- and her moans became really urgent as the summit came into sight. "Ooohhh! OOOHHH! OOOHHH! OH, GAAAAAWWWWDDDD!!!" The mountain was a volcano, and the top of Velma's head came off as it erupted, producing a fireworks display and an earthquake. Ed held on while Velma shook like a leaf, thrashing, her pussy nibbling at his cock. It was good -- no, GREAT -- shit, but Ed wasn't done yet. When she went slack, he picked up his previous stroke, pistoning in and out while she moaned, "Ohhh, Lawdy, Lawdy..." breathlessly and her hands rubbed his face, neck, shoulders, ribs, chest -- whatever she could reach. He lowered himself as low as he could get and whispered, "Did ya like that? I got more stretch in me this time -- let's see if you can make it again!" God, she wanted a kiss! He was sooo close... Her hands came up and captured his head and she lifted hers to press thick lips against his, immediately pushing her tongue into his mouth. Ed froze in shock, but got a grip and returned it, dueling with her tongue. But being cramped down like that interfered with his stroke, and she couldn't keep her head elevated, anyway, so they locked that way only briefly before she released him, again interlacing her fingers with his at her knees. Ed continued to pound away, having set an effective pace. For a while, all Velma did was shift her head back and forth and breathe harshly through her nose, but then she started making noises again, "Ooohhh... Ooohhh... Ooohhh... Ooohhh..." Ed grinned to himself; she tightened up, too, and her hips started flexing again -- he was gonna give her two! "Aaahhh! Ooohhh! Umm! Ooohhh!" Her eyes started rolling around, and Ed decided to ice the cake, applying more power to the stroke; Velma's grip on his fingers threatened to break one, her eyes rolled up, and she wailed, "OOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWHHHHHH!!!!!" shaking like a leaf, pulsing, jiggling, back hunched and hips lifted to take everything he could deliver. For Velma, Ed's tool was a magical thing, its blunt head bashing against her knotted cervix while its shaft massaged her tunnel and his wiry pubes abused her nubbin. She didn't have to work to obtain those wonderful shockwaves that raced through her -- she didn't see how she could avoid them! As her third climax of the evening with Ed thundered down on her (the little pops she got from nub-rubbin' before didn't even count!), she hung there, a receptacle, urgently awaiting her fulfillment. This one didn't sneak up on her; she watched its approach, spread, waiting, while it crept slowly within reach, fueling her anticipation before the final stunning rush! The shockwave flooded over her, leaving her only conscious of wave after wave of pleasure that precisely matched Ed's stuttering stroke -- for Ed couldn't keep things steady in the face of the clutching and milking Velma's twat was putting out! When Velma collapsed the second time, Ed knew he wasn't going to make it to three; that dance her pussy did on him while she came had him too close! "I'm gonna get mine, now!" he grunted, "I got the knees -- hold onto your titties!" Velma obeyed listlessly -- then got serious about holding her jugs in place as Ed set up a shattering pace, pounding her like a jackhammer while he grunted, "Yeah! Yeah!" through gritted teeth. Then he started to jizz her, grinding himself deep while his pole pulsed -- and Velma got ANOTHER quick, flashing cum from the feel of his jism blasting against her cervix from his already pressing cock. It took no imagination at all to picture it shooting through the tiny opening there and into her uterus -- and something about that caused her to quiver in release all over again! Ed was done; he was fifty, and most of his sex life had been solo shots with hookers, or, when he was much younger, the occasional one-night stand with some desperately drunk cunt after a bar hunt. Twice in one night wasn't a miracle, or anything, but it was more than he'd managed in over a decade -- well, except for the Wench's blowjob practice... Ed was wasted; he all but flopped onto those soft titties, going boneless. Velma let go of her knees, which put her feet on the mattress, and hugged him to her, rewarded by his turning his head and lackadaisically sucking at her neck, promising himself he'd get up and get out of there in just a sec... The soft snore in her ear did nothing to upset Velma -- it'd be hours before she came down from THIS plateau. She held him and cooed, and delighted in his damp, sweaty weight, while slowly drifting into dreamland herself... ------- Chapter 33: All About Stella Four forty-five came 'WAY too damned early; Ed woke to a loud yammering. "What the fuck! Where is that goddamned thing?" He reached out blindly, but couldn't find it with his hand -- but there was a lamp there... Funny, his night table was on the other side... The light flared just as a plaintive voice whined, "Ah cain't reach it wit' yo' on toppa me..." Startled, Ed found himself looking into Big Velma's soft brown eyes... Recovering himself, he snatched the noisy alarm clock off the night table, "Kill it!" Into the sudden silence, he muttered, "Damn, it ain't even five yet!" "Ah gots folk ta feed..." "Not for a while, you don't!" Well, that was true. But Velma had her pattern, which included a little masturbation, and a nice long shower, afterward... This morning, well, she could pass on the masturbation -- but the shower was going to be necessary to work the soreness out of some muscles that hadn't seen that kind of use before -- and besides, she was lying in a puddle... "Ah gotta clean up afore Ah goes ta work -- bein' some big bastid done raped me..." "I didn't rape your big black ass -- can't rape the willing! I've probably got finger marks where a certain hippo grabbed my damned arm! Besides, I was drunk!" "Yo' wasn't no drunk!" "That's my story, and I'm stickin' with it!" "An' Ah was raped! Dat's MY story, an' Ah'm stickin' wit' IT, too!" Velma's eyes were dancing. Time to move -- bitch was gonna kiss him in a minute, if he didn't. Ed got an evil grin on his face and rose straight up, taking the sheet -- and baring the big black woman to his gaze... Sheeit! Bitch was HUGE! Funny how that wasn't as important once you'd stuck your dick in it a couple of times, though... Velma was ranting and raving and trying to cover up fourteen square feet of skin with two square feet of hand, scrunching up and babbling. "Shut the fuck up, woman -- I sucked them titties last night and I laid all over the rest of that shit! The least you can do is let me look at it!" "You know Ah'm fat, an' Ah know Ah'm fat..." "So what's the problem?" "Ya don' havta embarrass da fook outta me wit' it!" Shit. Now he WANTED to kiss her! Time to get out of here... "Awright, awright! Jeez! You gotta show a man what you look like, eventually!" He backed off the bed while she scrambled for coverage, hunting on the floor for his discarded jeans and shorts. The realization that he was about to leave turned on the brave front: "You ol' bastid! Rapist! Ah'm ruined! Defiled! Yo' git yo' sorry ass outta here! An' don' come back!" Velma sat there in bed with her sheet pulled up over her ponderous breasts and pretended that she'd been taken advantage of -- because she KNEW if she made ANY move to keep him, Ed would be gone forever. As it was, Ed backed out of the room, grinning, his shoes in his hand, listening to all that manufactured outrage and knowing it for what it was... After the door clicked shut and Ed set off down the hall, grinning, the tears started, despite the smile on her face, "Yo' big beautiful fookin' bastid..." ------- When Inez staggered in at six, blinking the sleep from her eyes, Velma was humming to herself as she made biscuits. "Dat boy Nate, he lahks biscuits. Why don' yo' make somea dem tortilla things fo' da Boss, Honey?" Inez watched Velma waddle across the kitchen, her gait reminiscent of her own after Master rode her AGAIN in his bed last night. If she didn't know any better... Bianca, Nate, and Nora arrived almost simultaneously at six-thirty; the younger set had decided that aside from dinner, the dining room was a waste of time. Ed staggered in about six forty-five, looking extremely self-satisfied; Phillippe, Pete, and Jorge wandered in over the next few minutes. Ed made no move or statement that might have alluded to the activity of the previous night, but he was grinning like a Cheshire cat; Velma took it for a bit, then lumbered over to him and reached in her apron and tossed something at him. Ed found himself looking at a pair of wadded socks; Velma murmured, "Ah foun' dem..." and turned away, apparently unconcerned... There wasn't an eye in the place that wasn't drawn to the action. The guys just didn't get it, the primary response being a mild question from Pete, "How'd she know they were yours?" None of them put two and two together -- Velma was unfuckable. But Inez took one look and her eyes got round; she glanced at Bianca, and HER eyes got round and swung to Velma, whose stance told her everything she needed to know... "Velma?" Bianca asked timidly. Velma shook her head fractionally -- not now! "What, Honey?" Bianca thought fast, "Uh, do we have any bananas?" "Shoah," Velma replied. "C'mere, Ah'll show ya where dey are..." She headed for the pantry. Even Nora knew something was up by the way Bianca stumbled up to follow -- everyone female did, anyway. Inez merely watched, wide-eyed as her daughter followed the cook into the pantry. "Dey raht dere," Velma announced loudly as the door closed. Bianca whirled on the big woman and hissed, "You and Ed?" Velma nodded gravely, and Bianca giggled, "How was it?" "It was good, Honey. It was VERY good. Ah dunno how Ah's goin' do wit'out it, now..." Velma sighed, "We cain't talk, now -- mebbe later..." The pair exited the pantry, but it took Bianca a moment to cover her look of absolute glee. Inez, who was watching, picked it up, and her eyes popped. The flick of a glance between them, Inez's eyes flicking from Velma to Ed and Bianca's nod told Nora what had happened as clearly as if it had been printed on a billboard. Suddenly, every female eye in the place was on Ed, who was watching for something similar, anyway, after the socks. "What?" he grunted, his tone guarded. "They're just socks..." Grabbing his coffee cup, he got out of there. At least three women were moved to titter, while the remaining males -- Nate included -- worried at what was so exciting about a pair of dirty socks? Things glossed over about ten seconds later, when Sharon staggered in, barefoot in a thin robe, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "Armand wants coffee," she mumbled, "And those flat thi -- oh, good!" Her eyes swept over Inez removing a tortilla from the griddle. "And what the Hell is chorizo?" "Mom?" Nora regarded her mother, eyes wide. "Does it show?" Sharon replied, looking back. Ten minutes before, Sharon had flashed back almost two decades, waking to a swat on the rump and a grunt of, "Go get my breakfast, Bitch!" Armand had basically put a foot on her ass then and pushed her out of his bed; she'd gotten re-oriented while she got her feet under her, remembering a long, happy missionary-style pounding from Armand that eclipsed anything she'd had in a LOOOONG time... Nora's eyes lidded. "Yeah, it shows." She turned a grin on Nate, who grinned back. EVERYBODY got it. Sharon turned red. "You'd better give me that coffee, or he's likely to find a flogger. I'm sure he's probably decided he was too soft on me..." Velma chuckled and set her up with the Boss' needs, then returned to her other work as Sharon padded out, waddling a bit for what was obviously the same reason that apparently three-quarters of the other women in the house were... Nate couldn't complain. Nora had gone to some lengths to remind him why he needn't look elsewhere -- like he had any urge to! The episode with Stella had been more or less accidental; if he'd had any inkling that he was going to end up in trouble from it, it would have never happened. Nora asked him to talk dirty to her, and he tried -- but it was HARD! There was a whole list of names his throat closed on when he tried to call her them. Bitch, slut, cunt, whore, twat... They wouldn't come out of his mouth! He settled for telling her things HE was going to do to her, someday -- fuck her ass, make her fat with babies, drink milk from her titties, pound her with his cock until she passed out from joy... There was nothing in there like the crap he told Stella; in the first place, he wasn't sharing Nora, period! When it was over, Nora eyed him sidelong and asked, "Nate, Honey, why didn't you call me dirty names?" " 'Cause you ain't into it, an' it ain't how I think of ya," he replied evenly. "Why didn't you talk about putting me out naked for others?" she prodded. " 'Cause it's NOT FUCKING GONNA HAPPEN!" he roared. "Oh, okay," she replied lightly, with a Mona Lisa smile, then proceeded to vacuum a second load out of his cock with her mouth. Nate pulled her ass around and drank pussy juice until they both were sated, and they went to sleep cuddled. The way things were going, when he had to move out of here, he was gonna be miserable... Nate nodded at Nora and the pair rose from the table and headed for school without a word being uttered. ------- Thursday morning was the worst morning of Darla Jean Nevins' young life! It seemed as if the events of the night before -- Ted's version, naturally -- were all over school by nine o'clock! Claudette Pinkersley had declaimed to all and sundry that she was a complete slut before lunchtime and she was unable to hold her head up. The one bright spot in the entire mess was the rumor that Dwayne had publicly taken issue with Ted's tale in gym class, leaving some of the boys, at least, confused as to what Darla Jean's actual status might be -- but the whole thing was somewhat undercut by the admission under pressure that, yes, they HAD had sex... Lunch time came, and Darla Jean discovered that she might possess six friends in the whole world -- two of them named Mary -- but they ALL wanted to know what had really happened! Mary Eikenberry descended on her first. "Welcome to the Slut Patrol," she murmured, smiling crookedly. "So what REALLY happened?" "Well, Dwayne and I were... you know... and Ted shows up... Basically, we weren't in a position to do a whole lot..." "Why didn't Dwayne do anything?" "You're kidding, right?" Darla Jean replied. "In the first place, we were, uhh, close, you know? In the second, well, Dwayne isn't up to taking Ted out..." "That's what it would take?" "You don't deal with Ted much, do you? He's just a little bit extreme... Asking him to leave merely got a grin from him." "Uh huh," Mary replied, sidelong. "So, okay, what did he do, then?" "Well, he, uhh, stuck his cock down my throat..." Mary tilted her head and her eyes popped, but another voice behind Darla Jean said, "Ummm, that's different..." "Yikes!" Darla Jean jumped a foot! Behind her, grinning, stood Mary Nally. And behind HER stood Nora, Amy Kelleher, and Thelma Franken! "Oh, shit!" "This is my fault," Mary Nally sighed. "I conspired to create a monster..." "WE conspired!" Amy insisted, "I was in on it, too! And Thelma helped!" "I did?" Thelma looked bemused. "Well, I didn't!" Nora complained. "Will SOMEBODY tell me what's going on? Darla Jean?" "I have NO IDEA what THEY'RE talking about, but my life is ruined!" Darla Jean replied. "Because Ted stuck his dick down your throat?" Mary Nally rolled her eyes. "Okay, show of hands -- who here has sucked a cock..." It was unanimous. Darla Jean's eyebrows went up. Mary grinned. "What else?" "Ummm, two guys at one time?" Mary frowned. "Well, that's a shorter list, I bet. But I'm on it. In fact, Hon, that's what I was doing last weekend while you and Randall were playing hide the telescope..." "You were?" Darla Jean was aghast. "Yeah." Mary had the grace to color. "It wasn't the first time, and it wasn't the last. The, uh, rumors about me and Teddy and Stick Williams are true, mostly..." She shrugged. "Next!" "Well, that's probably the bulk of it," Darla Jean sighed, "except for the fact that he was a total bastard about it. This blow-job..." "Can I butt in, too?" Peggy's head appeared in the back. Darla Jean rubbed her forehead. "Anyone got a loudspeaker?" "Ted does," Mary Eikenberry offered. Everyone cracked up. "Okay," Darla Jean sighed. "Fact is, Ted showed up while we were VERY busy, and he wouldn't leave. He wouldn't even be nice. He just basically took over, and neither of us was in any position to do much about it. The blowjob? It wasn't one, in MY book. He dragged me to the end of the bench so my head hung over, and just started ramming it down my throat..." "EWWWWW!" Thelma exclaimed. "Nasty!" "That's our Mr. Phipps," Mary Nally opined. "Did he cum?" "No. Dwayne... finished first." "And did you, Hon? With Dwayne?" "Yeah. I made it -- no thanks to Ted!" Since Mary Nally had taken over the interrogation, everybody else hung back and let her work. Eyeing her manicure, she said, "Ted says he fucked you, and that you put the rubber on him..." "Well, yeah..." Darla Jean replied, defensively. "It was that or go bareback! Would YOU want to carry his bastards? He made it clear that we were gonna fuck, anyway..." "You know how he makes it sound," Mary replied. "Yeah. He dreamed it up on the spot, and had a gay old time telling me how he was going to present it -- but what could I do?" Darla Jean rubbed her face. "Stop that, you're ruining your makeup," Mary admonished. "He says you came -- twice!" Darla Jean hung her head. "True. He's a bastard, but I like it fast and furious -- and he was good that way..." She couldn't look up, but Mary Eikenberry rubbed her shoulders. Amy piped up, "It's true -- I thought she and Randall were gonna cause a cave in... Oops!" Mary Nally chuckled. "Well, it wasn't THAT big a secret, although Randall managed to BASICALLY keep it under his hat. Dwayne might have, too, given a choice..." "I think so," Darla Jean agreed. "Okay," Mary prompted, "what DIDN'T Dear Ted tell the world?" "I dunno if I ought to go on -- it probably won't help my case..." Darla Jean hedged. "Confession is good for the soul -- Hell, we're your fan club, Hon..." "Well, he got me going again, and then he pulled out and ripped off the rubber, and he shot it all over me -- and Dwayne, too. Dwayne took that pretty hard..." "That's pretty sorry," Mary agreed. "So he left you hanging?" "Yeah, he went off, laughing. But Dwayne came back and... finished me..." Darla Jean was hanging her head again. "Then he helped me clean up..." "So, lemme get this straight," Mary recapped, "Ted's a bastard, but Dwayne's pretty decent?" "Uh huh," Darla Jean agreed. "He's not my type, but he's okay. Gentle. Pretty good, if you like it slow and easy. He'll probably get better, too -- I think he was afraid he'd hurt me..." She shook her head. "And he DIDN'T treat me like garbage, afterward!" "Well, girls," Mary Nally looked around, "it's time for the counterattack. The word needs to go out that Ted is a user and an abuser, and he twists the truth. We don't want anyone ELSE being taken in! Honey, you've got a little bit of nympho in you, but I do, too..." "Me, too," Mary Eikenberry swore. "I can't get enough," blushed Thelma. "Me, too!" Nora added. "... So I wouldn't get too upset about it," Mary finished. "We'll just have to find you a new man. By the way -- what was wrong with Randall?" "Nothing," Darla Jean whispered, "Absolutely nothing." ------- Nonetheless, the afternoon sucked for Darla Jean. She was approached by several male 'volunteers' -- guys who wanted to take advantage of Darla Jean's apparent interest in cock. Some of them were pretty graphic about it, especially the REAL losers what had nothing to lose by doing it. Randall, standing down the hall, took in one of these episodes at a distance. "That sucks," he commented. "I feel responsible." "Not your fault, Man," Jimmy Hightower replied. "The girls say she was as ready as you were. As for last night, Amy says Darla Jean's story is a good bit different than Ted's. It wasn't consensual, at least where Ted was concerned. Darla Jean and Dwayne were at it, and Darla Jean admits that wasn't the smartest thing -- but Ted just horned in and wouldn't leave, blackmailing and browbeating them both until they let it happen. Then he treated Darla Jean like shit and left Dwayne to clean up the mess. Toby says Dwayne's version matches Darla Jean's." "This shit isn't all it's cracked up to be," Randall grunted. Louise Bryant had been appearing at odd intervals all day -- and she just did nothing for him. "Well," chuckled Jimmy, who'd noticed, too, "if you're not going to be the senior class stud, you need to take yourself out of circulation." "Assuming I'd want to, how the Hell would I do that?" Randall groused. "Duh!" Jimmy rolled his eyes. "Get a girlfriend!" Randall scratched his head -- not easy with his hair. "I think we need to do another Astronomy Club meeting. An inside thing, maybe? Image analysis? And try to get EVERYBODY..." "Kewl. My place? I'll put out the word..." Jimmy moved off. ------- That morning, the "three Cucumbers" picture went out on the street, in eight-by-ten color glossy, with the caption, "This is what Rodday calls 'protection'." Paul Matheson had a long talk with Tabitha, and they checked her out of the hospital around noon and set her up with a room in Witherspoon's main safe house on the east side. Based on an idea Tabitha had in the car, a second photo was taken of Tabitha, proudly displaying her nipple studs and her tongue piercing (by going naked and unbandaged above the waist and sticking out her tongue), and throwing the finger at the camera. The implications were obvious... Her IV pole was carefully hidden, to maximize the effect. When the photo shoot was over, Tabitha sidled up to Matheson, "Paul? When you gonna ask me for a little?" Matheson looked flustered, something odd in a big guy with a brush cut and a moustache, "You don't owe me anything." "Okay, I don't owe you anything," Tabitha agreed nonchalantly. "So when you gonna ask for a little?" She ran a finger along his jaw line. Paul eyed the black woman. At the moment, she was fairly poorly displayed -- skinny, somewhat wasted, her saggy tits displaying their wounds (although they'd been minimized for the photo with makeup and other tricks). Still, the woman displayed a certain raw power, some of it sexual, and some of it just iron will... "When you've filled out a bit. Didn't the doctor say you needed to be down for a month?" "Honey, I ain't gonna last no month without a dick! Ya forget when you're workin' it all the time that there's an itch ta be scratched in there -- it won't wait no month..." Paul pulled a face. "Then I guess you'd better put on some weight, then, huh? You look like a bundle of sticks, and I've got a lot of stuff stored up and might get rowdy..." "Oh, really? You gotta lotta stuff stored up?" Tabitha stepped in close and rubbed his crotch. "Mebbe we should see if this tongue thing," she stuck out her tongue and displayed the stud, "does anything for ya..." "Tabitha!" Paul grabbed the offending wrist. "Behave yourself! Your tongue isn't healed, either -- I don't need to be pouring spunk over it!" "Oh, c'mere, ya big pussy! We can at least try it out with a coupla things..." Tabitha pulled him down and started working his neck with her lips. Surprise pinned him for a moment, and pleasure for another -- and the battle was over. Paul carefully wrapped his arms around Tabitha's bare back. Tabitha backed off enough to regard him with heavy-lidded eyes and husked, "We could try a little kissin'..." For such a skinny woman, Tabitha had plush lips. Paul found that he didn't have any problem with tongue-wrestling her -- but from his perspective, the stud got in the way. She winced a couple of times in the next thirty seconds, and Paul hunted some for blood, but didn't positively identify any. When she pulled back, she murmured, "That wasn't bad; I could probably give head, if I was careful -- but maybe you're right. Dammit, I'm awful itchy..." "You're healing." Somehow, Paul hadn't let go. Tabitha didn't meet his concept of the ideal woman, but she brought some strange things to the table... He found himself rubbing her thin back. Tabitha purred, "I'll give ya forty-five minutes to stop that..." Paul smiled in spite of himself. "How are the breasts?" Tabitha stepped back. "They're tits. Or jugs -- or mebbe udders, in my case. They hurt some. Check one out fer yourself..." Her eyes dared him to touch her. "Crazy bitch," Paul murmured quietly, reaching out to cradle Tabitha's left breast. He pretended to be clinical about the examination, but spent most of the time wondering why the soft flesh aroused him -- certainly, it wasn't the most attractive one he'd ever seen -- or even handled. "How's the nail thing?" "It's gonna be a little while..." Tabitha admitted. "And the piercings? I like to play with nipples..." "You want I should take 'em out?" Paul blinked. "Why would you do that for me?" "You ain't caught on, yet, have ya, ya silly bastard? I LIKE ya! Ya make me horny ta look at ya. Sumpthin... I cain't put a finger on it..." "Oh." Surprise made him poker-faced. "THAT's new..." "Kinda bass-ackwards, ain't it? Bein' chased..." "Yeah." Paul pondered a minute. This had to be weird... "Look, we've got no future. Drugs..." Tabitha waved it away. "I'm halfway ta clean already. But I need sumpthin' ta look forward to..." "Hey, no guilt trips," Paul rolled his eyes. "What about when you go back to work?" "I dunno." Tabitha shrugged. "You gotta thing 'bout hookers?" "Not as a customer." Paul scratched his head. "I couldn't afford to. As a boyfriend, well, I'm not a pimp... How much do work and play get mixed up?" Tabitha sucked her teeth. "I didn't play much," she admitted. "Work kinda took the fun outta it." She eyed him slyly, "Mebbe you'd take me away from alla this?" "One crazy idea after another..." Paul chuckled. Still, there was something going on underneath all of this... "I go wit' the flow," Tabitha mumbled. "Seems like the flow is goin' a different direction this week..." "I guess. Still, it's the best offer I've had in a long time..." "You don' wanna look a gift whore in the mouth!" Tabitha stuck out her tongue. Paul laughed, and she stepped in close, "C'mere, Baby." Paul wrapped his arms around her, and she whispered in his ear, "Are folk listenin' ta this?" "Yeah." Paul found himself surprised. "There is monitoring," he whispered. "Baby, you don' hafta buy the whole pig. I gotta itchy clit, an' I ain't used ta doin' myself. Why don' you come by tonight an' get em' ta turn off alla that crap, and we can find some way an' ol' broken-down whore can have fun?" "Is that all there is to it?" "Fer now..." "Let me see what I can do." Paul turned his head and deliberately stuck his tongue in the black woman's ear. "Eeek!" she shrieked, jumping back. "You silly bastard! Now my nipples is all hard!" She covered one, and waved a finger with her other hand, "I ain't mad, but I'll get even!" "Trying to give me a hard-on isn't bad enough?" Paul laughed. "Huh!" Tabitha twitched her head, nose in the air. "That's only a start!" She turned and grabbed up a towel, "Guess it's time to pack this shit back up." She covered her breasts. "You wanna send in whoever is gonna put me back in bandages?" "Sure." Grinning, Paul backed out of the room. Scott met him in the hallway. "What was THAT all about?" he asked, grinning. Paul shrugged. "You undoubtedly heard what I heard..." "So, she wants your pasty-white bod?" "So she says..." "And the whisper?" "Caught that, did you?" Paul grinned. "She wants me to come back tonight and diddle her -- preferably without a lot of surveillance." "Maybe she just wants to bust out." "Why go to all that trouble? She could just ask Mr. Wilson. No, there is something else." Paul pondered a moment. "She's been standing on her own two feet for a long time -- but maybe this thing made her have second thoughts..." "Can't be YOUR looks -- that's for DAMNED sure!" Scott chuckled. "You're just jealous," Paul replied. "But it is interesting that she didn't pick you or one of the other black guys to snuggle up to. I'm a lot of things, but black isn't one of them -- no offense..." "Yeah. Odd..." Scott waved the thing off as a source of offense -- he and Matheson had worked together a while, and he knew Paul was merely airing an interesting datum. "Maybe you DO trip her trigger..." "Can't imagine why..." "What about her? You were pretty busy ducking, in there..." "Well, she wouldn't make my top ten list if I met her on the street, but she's got something... She's kind of wide open. And I don't exactly get, 'Hey, wanna fuck?' daily..." "She's something else," Scott agreed. "Back where I come from, they'd say she's got moxie. She takes no prisoners, and wants it straight. I dunno -- it's attractive..." "How was the liplock?" "Very nice, actually. She knows her tools, too -- got me charged up a couple of times with obvious stuff, and then slipped in a couple of sneaky things." Scott eyed him. "You know, hookers very seldom kiss -- not street hookers, anyway. And Mr. Wilson had her tested for everything under the sun..." "What're you saying?" "Why don't you dip her?" "It's unprofessional." "You're not a cop. And she's asking..." "And if I start something stupid?" "She'll know before you do, Man. You said it yourself -- she's been around the block." Scott clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll tell Chase. You do what you want -- but don't worry about eavesdropping. Drag her out to room three -- it's not monitored, anyway." Matheson just waved his hands and hit the door. ------- About one p.m., Velma, after serious thought, put in an appearance in Sharon's office. "Miz Sharon, yo' gotta minute?" "Sure," Sharon replied, "What's up?" "Ah need ta go ta the doctor," Velma announced diffidently. "Mistah Jason used ta make the arrangements... Now I figger yo' will. Better dat way anyways -- less embarrasin'." "Uh, okay." Sharon was in the dark. "What doctor? What's the problem?" "Uhhh, Doc Beckman, Ah think. Da cooze doctor," Velma related diffidently. "Ah let mah pills go awhile back, an', uh, mebbe Ah need 'em..." She stood there, wringing her hands. Sharon thought about it. Beckman was a gynecologist; she used him, and Nora had recently, also, so it was no surprise that Armand's staff did, too, since Armand had arranged it. Still, Velma? "How long has it been?" "Coupla years." "Okay," Sharon mused. "Is it urgent?" "Uh, mebbe. Ah dunno..." Being black didn't seem to save Velma from blushing. Putting two and two together, Sharon decided that either Velma had suddenly been sexually active and was looking forward to a rematch, or someone had made a serious offer. "Do you think you might need anything else?" Sharon asked carefully. "Ah might." Velma appeared to nearly strangle on the admission. "Um." Sharon picked up the phone and called Jason. "Jason, I need to schedule an appointment with Dr. Beckman - fairly urgently, apparently." Jason, in his office downtown, blinked. "For yourself?" "No, for Velma, actually..." "Velma?" Jason was somewhat taken aback. "Velma," Sharon confirmed. "Am I correct in assuming that we have a handle on him? I know that he doesn't respond to me as quickly as he does to Armand..." Jason showed his teeth in his characteristic rictus. "You would be correct. Does Velma require a morning after aid?" "I think so. The answers I'm getting out of her would indicate that." "I'll make the call. Later, we'll discuss the good doctor so that you have the proper tools to deal with him," Jason chuckled. "I'll try to get Inez in, too, for that paternity test -- not that I disbelieve her, but she needs to know I'll follow through. I'll call back in a few minutes." "Thank you," Sharon replied, and hung up. Turning her attention to Velma, she informed her, "Jason will call back in a bit. Do you want to wait, or..." "Ah need ta clean up lunch," Velma replied uneasily. "I'll stop by, then." "Thank ya." Velma made to back out of the room. "Velma? Is there likely to be a problem?" Sharon asked. "Ah hope not. Ain't been yet..." Velma replied diffidently, and turned away. Jason entered Armand's office unannounced. "Velma has asked to see Dr. Beckman. Apparently it's urgent..." "Oh?" Armand looked up and smiled. "I'll have to check the internal surveillance data. All things being equal, though, it probably means that Ed took something I said to him the other day seriously." "I knew that Ed was getting less than he likes - but Velma?" Jason shook his head. "Well, I recently discovered while keeping an eye on Bianca that Velma isn't asexual, either," Armand chuckled. "Which reminds me -- Bianca has a long-running crush on Pete that might germinate into a relationship." "Oh?" Jason mused. "Well, she could do worse. You, uh, had Velma..." "There was nothing romantic about it," Armand replied. "I penetrated her a few times to bring home to her the conditions of her employment. Neither of us orgasmed, although she did prove responsive. I would imagine that big women need love, too." He shrugged. "Inez isn't tiny." Jason shrugged back. "Push Beckman. He owes me for flapping his big mouth to Nora. Besides, I suspect that they're already started; if we don't get a lock on things quickly, there will be more surprise offspring running around here." "Sir." Jason grinned and backed out of the office. Ten minutes later, he was on the phone to Sharon. "Three o'clock. Have Phillippe take them in the Mercedes in case we need the limo." "Okay," Sharon replied. "Inez, too, then?" "Yes." Jason appeared self-satisfied. "I shattered Beckman's afternoon appointment schedule. Velma first, then Inez. Velma needs a thorough workup, too -- she hasn't been making regular appointments for some time." "At a guess, she probably figured she didn't need to," Sharon chuckled. "I recommend that you impress upon her that she needs to do what is proper to maintain her health -- breast exams, and such -- you know better than I do..." Jason murmured. "I'll make a point of it." ------- "Okay, we're outta here!" Stick announced, collecting Mary Nally's hand at the school's front steps. "Teddy's goin' for the car." "What do you want to do tonight?" Mary asked. "Nuthin'. Let's jus' hang." "Okay, where?" "Not a lot of options," Stick grunted. "My place ain't pretty -- possible, I guess, since Pop bought the tale, but it'd suck for Ted. Teddy -- well nobody's let Teddy's Ma know yet, right? An' I'd jus' confuse the fuck outta her." "My place, then." "You wanna go out? Movie or somethin'?" "Can we do that?" Mary looked hopeful. Hiding out sucked. "Les' lock in Ted. I gotta buck or two..." They trotted down the stairs to the car. ------- Nora rode to work with Nate. "You can't drive!" he'd protested. "I'll call for a pickup. I need to see this Stella..." "Nora, she's not important! Promise!" "I know that, but SHE needs to!" "Look, I gotta work! Why don't you just pick me up or something?" "It's too late. I've got my homework, and I'll find a way to stay busy..." They argued the whole way, but they were headed there, anyway, so it was all moot. They were still arguing, coming up the loading dock. DiAngelo was standing there. "Who's that?" "My girlfriend," Nate replied shortly. "Where's Roland?" "Awww, shit! Stella!" "Wot?" The yell came from the office at the back. "You need ta get out here!" In the meantime, Roland shambled up. Nate spun on Nora, "You behave yourself! I gotta work!" then turned to Roland, "Where's the truck? We loadin'?" "Down the end," Roland replied. He eyed Nora with a raised eyebrow. "I figger you don' wanna be hangin' out here?" Nate glanced at Nora. "You figure right. Let's go!" "Hey!" DiAngelo roared, "What about THIS mess? If she starts a war..." Nate speared Nora with a glance. "I don' think it's gonna come to that -- but if it does, she can pull her own weight." He turned away. "Nate!" Nora stamped her foot. "Yeah?" Nate was dangerously pissed -- this was embarrassing him no end. "Give me a kiss before you run off and hide in a truck!" Nate flashed a glance at Roland, "I'll catch up." Spinning, he came and stood over Nora. "You start somethin', I'm gonna spank you!" "Just kiss me!" "Awright." He hung around long enough to do a good job, then waved a finger at her before dashing off. Stella hove into view, railing, "Who's gonna watch the phones?" at DiAngelo. "You are," DiAngelo replied, "While you entertain Junior's girlfriend, here. Now both a ya get offa my dock!" One look and Nora was done; the swarthy brunette probably topped two hundred, easily, and while she as displaying a prodigious bust, the legs she was displaying a lot of weren't that good, and the miniskirt she was using to do it wouldn't make her twenty again. Nor would the heavily applied makeup. The older woman was instantly nervous, "Umm Nate, right?" "Uh huh." "He didn't touch me. He was real clear about that." Stella figured it would be best if she didn't mention that today she was in her hottest outfit in an attempt to entice Nate further. "But what he DID do was sex, sort of, wasn't it?" Nora pressed. "At least, it was to you..." "Well," Stella admitted weakly, "it DID make it better... How did you find out?" Nora's grin would have done credit to a shark. "He had an attack of conscience." The implication was clear; if things went further, he'd spill the beans again, too... "If you two ain't gonna fight, get offa my dock!" DiAngelo reiterated. "Let's go to the office, Honey," Stella said unctuously, turning. Nora started to bridle, but then she realized that Stella probably called just about every woman she met 'Honey'... On arrival in the office, Stella muttered, "There's coffee, and a soda machine... Look, he never, ever touched me, honest!" "I believe you," Nora replied. "I believed HIM. But I had to see..." "... What?" Stella was mildly irritated; she was pretty sure she'd just been insulted. "I had to know if there was any possibility that Nate might, you know, be tempted in the future," Nora replied. "Oh..." Nora's tone said she was certain Nate wouldn't -- and if Nora was certain... Nora noted the fact that her assessment was a blow to Stella, "You wanted more?" Stella shrugged and looked away. "Well, he's young... And he talks REAL nasty..." She seemed to gather herself. "And he's black." "Nate says you only give the other guys blowjobs. Is that true?" "Yeah." "Why didn't Mr. DiAngelo step in? He seemed to want us to start tearing at one another..." Nora queried. "He did, I think," Stella related. "He told me if any of the guys' wives showed up, it was my ass..." Nora started wondering if she wasn't the adult here... "Help me understand what this is all about." "It's kind of weird..." "I've heard weird before; I've even seen it a few times." "At your age?" "Weird begins at home, in my family," Nora grinned. "Okay." Stella was dubious. "I do what the Boss wants. He's okay, and he gets me there, but I got this urge for adventure. One day, I said something, and Boss said it might be fun to watch, but my pussy was his, so blowjobs were it. I agreed, and we called one of the guys in and it was totally awesome! I wanted to do everybody! Boss told me he'd put up with it, 'cause it got me hot, but if I sucked off a guy and his wife or girlfriend found out about it, it was my problem, not his..." "Okay, I guess, but why? Why him? Why here?" DiAngelo was pretty unimpressive to Nora -- sort of a no-talent Danny DeVito -- surely Stella could do better? "What do YOU get out of this?" "I guess I oughta start at the beginning," Stella sighed. "I'm Catholic -- my folks are very devout. Mama always told me that if I was a good girl, sooner or later a man would notice me and I wouldn't have to be ashamed of myself on my wedding night -- not to mention the sin involved... Well, I was good, all through elementary school, and middle school and high school -- and secretarial school, for that matter -- and nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. Mama changed her tune somewhat when I hit twenty-five, but by then, it was basically too late -- the only men I met were the ones I worked with -- and most of them were already married." Stella sighed. "A boy in school once said I was a triple threat -- fat, ugly, AND stupid!" "I don't think..." Nora began. "You do too!" Stella stormed. "You took one look and decided your boyfriend was safe from me!" "Well," Nora replied gently, "It was mostly age..." "Yeah, well..." Stella wasn't mollified. "Fact is, it's true. I'm not exactly an 'A' list property. Anyway, guys were bulletproof -- Hell, they didn't even see me -- so I got a little desperate. It was awful until I started reading up on sex and learned to, well, take care of myself -- but that made it better and worse at the same time." "Oh?" "Yeah. You know, you get a little something, and you want a lot more..." "Oh. Yeah..." "One day, I got up the guts and I went out on my lunch hour to one of those stores to get a... toy..." she blushed, "And the place was just chock full of these wild videos! I was amazed! Once I started looking at the racks, I just couldn't leave! And then this guy sidled up to me..." She sat there a moment, staring at the desk blotter. "Do you know how many times before that someone tried to pick me up? Zero. He was -- God, I dunno -- forty-something? Kinda just average... He started taking me around, looking at different types of videos, different acts, different specialties -- and he started rubbing my back, and my side, and my hip... I went kind of nuts! I was swimming in sex, and this guy was touching me... My panties were soaked! Then he says that if I wanted to see a video, they had little booths in the back... I was too chicken to go alone, and too stupid NOT to go with him -- and I just HAD to see this stuff! It didn't occur to me that I could just rent a couple -- besides, this guy was touching me..." Stella's eyes were kind of glazed as she re-lived the experience. Nora just sat there, fascinated. "He hadn't done much, up to then -- a couple of quick swipes across my ass -- but I was on fire! So we go into a booth, and there are a couple of holes in the walls, which made me nervous, but he said not to worry, it was no big thing -- and then he put money in the video machine." Stella just sat there for a moment, obviously deep in the memory. "There must have been fifty channels -- people doing all kinds of stuff! All kinds of positions, gangbangs, guys on guys, gals on gals... And I'd never seen ANY of it before, never mind DONE any! The guy put a dollar in the first time, but that went quick and I was rooted, so he put in a five. He'd change the channel, and say, 'What do you think?', and I'd say 'Wow!' or something, then he'd do it again... We burned the five bucks, and he put in a twenty, then said, 'Okay, YOU push the buttons, ' and I sidled up and started doing it... I'd been tying my hands in knots, I wanted to play with myself so bad -- but when I started pushing buttons, HE had both hands free..." She looked up, "THAT's when I realized I was definitely going to Hell! He put his hands on my waist and put his hard cock in the crack of my ass and I KNEW my virginity was gonna be gone before we left that little room! I was wearing a long pleated skirt and a high-necked, white ruffled blouse under a jacket -- I didn't even THINK about stopping him when he started pulling the jacket off -- it must've been two hundred degrees in that little booth. Next thing I knew, he was feeling my boobs through my bra, telling me I needed to show 'em off because they were probably my best asset. I just pretended I didn't know what he was up to, watching people have wild sex on the screen..." She looked at Nora, "This is awful, isn't it?" Nora smiled. "No! It's exciting!" "I probably shouldn't be dumping this on you, but you asked, and I've almost busted a gut waiting to tell another woman..." "Well, keep going! You're not done!" "He took the blouse off -- I actually gave him a hand at a time to unbutton the cuffs while I pushed buttons with the other -- and then my bra, and he had his hand on my tits... And it was wonderful! I got a little cum while he squeezed my nipples! When he sucked on my neck and told me to take off my shoes, I didn't have any second thoughts; I was wearing sensible flats, and I just toed out of them. I remember the floor was sticky..." Stella shook her head, smiling wryly. "There was this little chair there, but we were using it for a clothes rack; he unzipped my skirt and I just stood there and let it drop, then stepped out of it -- and he made this big inhale because you could smell how wet I was!" "I was wearing knee-highs under the skirt, and he laughed and said that at least I'd done something right, then he tugged off my panties -- they were soaked -- and I was standing there without a stitch on! And it was SOOOO hot... He started playing with my ass, sweet-talking, saying stuff like, 'C'mon Baby, you know you want it... ' and I just spread my legs and leaned forward a bit so he could get at my pussy! I HAD to cum -- he knew it -- I just HAD to! I just concentrated on the videos and pretended that I didn't know what he was doing while he rubbed me..." "Then he took my hand and he put it on his cock -- and it was hot and gnarly and hard and just the most incredible thing to feel in my hand... That's what finally took my attention away from the screen -- I had to look at it, feel it, play with it. He punched the buttons and backed things up to a video where a woman was sucking a cock, and I knew where we were headed next -- and I was ready for it! I got down on my knees and took him in, watching the video with one eye to get an idea what I was supposed to be doing, and he put his hands in my hair and moved my head around, hissing and moaning and telling me what to do. I quit paying attention to the video, except peripherally -- and that's when I noticed the eyeball at the hole in the wall! I got this incredible rush -- I was being watched! I took his hips and turned him a little bit so I could see the hole in the other wall, and someone was watching there, too! Wow! I had three guys paying attention to me at once! It was incredible! The guy was rock hard and pulsing, and I loved the feel of him in my mouth, but he stopped, and said something like, 'Time for the main course, ' and had me stand up again, bent over, bracing my hands against the wall above the video screen. That's how I took my first cock..." Stella stopped to gather herself, and Nora waited, knowing the tale wasn't over. Stella's cheeks were flushed and she was breathing hard, just from the memory; she had a hand in her lap, and although Nora couldn't see it, she could see the play of muscles in her arm and knew she was crushing her hand against her mound. The older woman rocked a bit, eyes closed, then glanced up apologetically, "Sorry -- I get excited easily..." "It's okay -- it's a really hot story!" Nora was soaked, too, and a little itchy -- it'd be nice to slide her hands into the waistband of her skirt, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. "Okay." Stella settled herself and resumed her tale: "I was tight and I bled a little -- I'd had a couple of small things in there, but nothing as thick as a cock -- and the guy asked, 'Hey, you on the rag?' and I managed to get out that I was a virgin. He stopped dead, maybe three- quarters of the way in me, and says, 'You're shitting me, right? A hot piece like you?' and I managed to gasp out that I was kind of a late bloomer. But I pressed back -- I wanted it, BAD! -- and he chuckled and went back to work. I think it took maybe thirty seconds before I got this mother of all cums, and I let out this wail that would have brought the cops if it hadn't been for all the video noises of people fucking all around us... And he goes, 'You like that?' and I managed to babble something, and he says, 'Let's go for two, then, ' and I went back to Heaven... And he laughs and says, 'Somebody wants me to share, ' and I discovered the OTHER reason for those big holes in the wall! There was this big cock sticking through one of the holes! The guy laughs and asks me if I want it -- and I was over the top; I wanted EVERYTHING -- so he turned us around, and I started playing with it -- jacking it, licking it, trying to get a good suck on it with my face mashed against the wall..." Stella's gaze was turned inward; her nostrils were distended and she was red as a beet -- and that hand was working, working... "It started pulsing, and I misunderstood what was happening and backed off, but it was a young guy, I think, because that didn't stop him, and suddenly I got a face full of white goo... Then the guy fucking me grunted and buried himself, and I could feel him shoot, toooooOOOOOOAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWW!!!!" Stella's eyes rolled up and she went straight into orgasm, gasping and quaking. Nora sat there, watching, hands itching, flustered -- but she kept it all in. In a few seconds, Stella collapsed against the seat back and murmured, "Wow! THAT was embarrassing..." "Well, you needed it," Nora managed to choke out. "Yeah." Stella's voice was shaky. "Anyway, I came when he did, but it wasn't enough; it was like I needed to catch up for a couple of years, right then! The guy pulled out and I turned around -- and the eyeball at the OTHER hole went away, and a cock stuck through, so I just went over and started sucking. The guy said, 'You want more, don't ya?' and I did, but I was scared, so he said, 'I'll control things for ya, ' and he let another guy in..." Stella rubbed her face. "I think I fucked six or eight guys, and I don't know how many cocks I sucked -- I just went back and forth from hole to hole. Boss was the last guy to fuck me; he gave me his business card and offered me a job... Turned out I needed one; I'd left the office for lunch at eleven-thirty, and staggered out of that booth at three-thirty, covered in white goo. My knee-highs were trashed, and my skirt had dropped into the glop on the floor and had spots on it; some guy had wiped his cock on my blouse, so I used it myself as a face rag. The guy who did me first took my panties as a souvenir... Basically, I was a mess! The clerk on duty when I came out was female, and wanted to know how long I'd been back there -- she'd known that SOMETHING was up, but I'd stayed in the booth, so she hadn't known what -- I said, 'I don't know, what time is it?' and she took pity on me and took me back to the employee restroom to clean me up a bit. I managed to get home without killing anybody on the road and slept until nine the next morning, which made me late for work, so I called in sick, rolled over, and went back to sleep." She chuckled. "I spent the next two days shifting back and forth between being elated and agonized -- sex was incredible, and I knew I'd do anything to get it again, but I was gonna go to Hell for sure. That third day, another secretary at work called and said don't bother to come in -- I was fired for being unreliable. I think I just laughed hysterically. I was doing EVERYTHING hysterically, at that point..." "That weekend, I didn't go to my regular mass -- but I think I went to three others, when I was off and on worrying about damnation. I confessed, and the priest didn't know what to make of it, but he said God would forgive me, anyway, and laid on some other crap about the grand design; eventually, I settled down." "On Monday, I fished out Boss' business card and called him. He said to come on down, so I dressed conservatively and came to see him. We got down to it and he asked me why I was here, and I told him I was looking for a job. I remember he said, 'I can keep up my own paperwork, but HR says I can have a secretary. I can hire you, but it ain't worth it to me unless you can take care of my REAL needs.' I asked him what those were, and he eyed me for a minute and said, 'You did a pretty good job with them last Tuesday. I don't need a secretary -- I need a slut. Can you do that?' " "I kinda sat there, stunned, but Boss goes, 'This ain't blackmail, or anything. You don't work for me yet, so I'm not takin' advantage of you. I need a little light typing and filing and a lot of wet pussy. Typing and filing won't even be discussed on your performance review, but the day we stop fuckin', you need to start lookin' for work. I'm gonna own your twat -- I tell you when where, how, and, yeah, even who. How's that?' " "I just kinda sat there, and he sat there lookin' at me. I said, 'Is this a real job?' and he said, 'Yeah, it's a real job. You can get hired as a secretary anywhere, but the woman I met last Tuesday was addicted to dick. Ain't many jobs out there for women addicted to dick -- not jobs that combine work and pleasure. Hookers don't enjoy gettin' fucked -- to them, it's all economics. You can get all uptight and go look somewhere else, or you can take this job, knowing what's going on up front.' " "Maybe I shoulda left -- but he made me hot. The whole idea made me hot. He was right -- I could find another job as a secretary, one where nobody would ever notice, me, let alone touch me. But I didn't WANT that -- I didn't WANT to be ignored, and I didn't have any idea how I was gonna find dick, now that I needed it. I'd HAD his dick, and he was tellin' me that I could have it again, regularly. It might as well have been a marriage proposal! I asked him, 'Are you gonna talk nasty to me and treat me like dirt?' -- you know, I never even knew that I cared about that, one way or another, until I blurted out that question. He sat and looked at me for a minute -- trying to figure out where I was headed, I guess -- then he shrugged and said, 'Yeah. You'll be my bitch, slut, cunt, twat, whore -- whatever I decide to call you -- 'cause you'll be my sex slave. If I tell ya to take off all your clothes, crawl around on the rug and bark like a dog, you'll do it. If you're giving me head and one of the boys comes in, you don't miss a stroke, even if he sticks his dick in your ass. How's that?' " "The whole thing washed over me. My nipples got hard, and I started running juice -- I know it's nuts, but I'd had wild fantasies driving me nuts for days and he just plugged right into them! I kinda croaked out, 'What else?' and he sat lookin' at me again, and said, 'You ain't properly dressed. I ain't hiring a librarian, I'm hiring a slut. You need to dress like one. I need to see those big titties. No pants. No UNDERPANTS. You wear stockings and garters -- preferably the stuff with the black seam running up the back -- and any time I want to plug your twat, I should only have to lift your skirt to find it. I'd make you go braless, but them jugs probably need the support. How's that?' " "Awful as you might think it is, the next words out of my mouth were, 'When do I start?' and three minutes later, I was on my knees in front of his chair in just my nylons, vacuuming his hard-on. I've... never looked back..." Stella sat back and waited for Nora to denounce her. It didn't happen. Nora asked, "Isn't Mr. DiAngelo married? I'd think you'd go looking for a guy who you didn't have to share..." Stella shrugged. "Yeah, he's married to some hatchet-faced bitch who sewed up her twat a long time ago. Why he doesn't divorce her has a lot to do with money, I think. I'm kinda extreme, I think -- for most guys, I'd be good for a couple of fucks, but not to bring home to Mama. Those that would keep me for longer would only do it so they could treat me worse. Now, finally, I know how to find the kind of guy who will pay attention to me -- but it'd only be for sex. Boss, well, Boss owns me, but he takes care of me -- protects me from myself. He keeps me from going overboard, or catching diseases, or just doing something too utterly fucking stupid, you know?" "What about nights?" Stella sighed. "Well, I'm here 'til eight... lotsa times longer. Sometimes, we 'work on the weekend', and that's nice. But I like things to be public; when I'm getting what I need, I can just wind down at night, and it's not important, any more. Boss and I would just be fighting over the TV remote or something..." Nora pursed her lips. "Are you getting enough?" "Wow! You WERE paying attention!" Stella exclaimed. "Ummmm, not quite. Boss takes me places like that store to find extra dick to suck, but he's the only one fucking me. It'd be nice to get more, but Boss says he don't want no diseases; if he catches me fucking around, we're done." "What about rubbers?" Stella looked thoughtful. "You know, I'll hafta ask Boss about that. He'll probably say 'No', though... I think a lot of that thing is about making sure he owns me..." She cocked her head. "I can't understand why you haven't shit on me yet..." Nora shrugged. "I told you I'd seen a few things. I have a girlfriend who has two boyfriends -- one white and one black -- and she does them at the same time. Heck, they have a bi thing going. And there are two actual sex slaves running around my house, and one more who is as good as being one, but won't admit it. I'm about the only 'free woman' in the house!" Nora stopped and grinned, "I think it's neat that things seem to be okay for you; some people have the urge and hate themselves for it. And I can sympathize with your being unable to attract guys -- I have this..." She stood up and turned around to display her oversize ass. "Until very recently, THIS kept ME off the playing field... But it takes all kinds, and Nate apparently loves the thing..." "Are you giving him any of that?" "Ass?" Nora clarified. "Not yet. Soon, though, I think. I know he wants it." "It's okay, done right," Stella advised, "You'd be surprised. What about him bein', um, black?" "You mean did I buy into the black superman thing? No. My being white was more important to him -- for about an hour, maybe. Now, it's a side issue," Nora replied. "Mm, yeah." Stella nodded. "I like cock, and the color doesn't seem to matter much. Black DOES seem to average just a wee bit bigger -- but not as much as they'll tell you. Oriental guys tend to be smaller -- but there are curve breakers everywhere. I've done black guys who were piddly, and Orientals that were huge." "How do you get so much experience?" "We go to the store and spend time in the booths. Boss does me, and lets me suck at the holes. Sometimes, we let a guy in for an up close and personal blowjob. There are a couple of other places, too..." Stella got diffident, and Nora decided to leave it alone. "I need to do some homework -- can I grab a chunk of desk?" "Sure." When DiAngelo stuck his head in the door a few minutes later, he was vaguely disappointed; the women seemed to be getting along fine... ------- Chapter 34A: Randall's Reputation Nate and Roland were out making the rounds. Roland kept his mouth shut until they'd made their first delivery; Nate was fuming pretty heavily without it. But as they pulled away, Roland opened up, "Awright, inquiring minds wanta know. What the fuck?" "I got a case of diahhrea of the mouth, an' Nora had to get a look at Stella," Nate rasped. "An' you couldn't keep it from happenin'?" "No. I couldn't," Nate groused. "I know it makes me look whipped, and I'm gonna take anything she says or does out on her, but there are limits how far I can push her." "Howcum?" "It's complicated, an' the fact that she's the best damn thing ever happened to me is only one piece. Some a' the rest of it you're better off not knowin'." 'She's the big boss' daughter' didn't seem to be a good thing to let slip... "The good news is that if she needs an ass whuppin' I can do it." "Well THAT's good, I guess," Roland allowed. "It'll have to do, won't it?" Nate shook his head, disgusted. ------- "Hey, Randall," Erin McGrath murmured. "Hey, Erin." 'What's she doing here?' Randall wondered. He and Jimmy had hung out after class, playing chess and discussing Darla Jean -- something Amy had participated in, too. Randall felt responsible for Darla Jean's troubles; if he hadn't pressed for an opportunity to have sex, the elaborate set-up of the previous weekend wouldn't have occurred, and Darla Jean would still be in the closet. Amy, however, was of a different opinion; she felt that they'd done Darla Jean a favor, and Darla Jean's current problems would blow over and eventually work to her benefit by making the shy girl more approachable. Jimmy was in agreement. "Hey, Man, she needed it every bit as bad as you did! I wouldn't worry about it. This thing with Ted and Dwayne kind of confirms it!" "I don't know why she..." Randall began. "Rushed out and chased down Dwayne?" Amy tittered. "I do. It's the same reason you fell in the sack with Peggy! She was trying to get a comparison with her first time." "I didn't exactly..." "Okay, okay, Peggy stalked YOU! But YOU let it happen, and she'd have never done it except for the fact that she's tight with Darla Jean and heard good things!" Amy argued. "And another thing -- you're getting MORE favorable press from Peggy! The word's out, Man! You're a stud!" Randall rolled his eyes. "As great as that sounds, I wish we'd kept the whole thing between ourselves." "You had a chance, Man," Jimmy argued. "But you and Darla Jean got all adult about it and decided you should play the field, rather than hanging onto one another." "Well..." "Well, nothing, Man! If you're with one girl and it's absolutely great -- and don't tell me it wasn't! -- why look around?" Jimmy remonstrated. "Yeah," Randall agreed. "Hindsight is twenty-twenty. But Darla Jean wanted to look around, too..." "Well, she has," Amy simpered. "I don't think she's found better..." "She got two, pretty quickly," Randall pointed out. "And it was a two-for-one sale she'd have been better off missing out on," Amy replied. "Are you jealous because she's ahead of you? She's a girl -- it's a seller's market. All SHE has to do is be receptive..." She grinned. "Of course, with the reputation you're getting..." "Shit, Amy!" Randall had complained -- but here stood Erin. Erin was a known quantity -- a card-carrying member of Bang Nation. Everybody knew it, even though things had long-since settled down, because she'd been one of -- if not THE -- first of Rob's conquests. Rob hadn't developed his current sophistication, and word had leaked quickly, leaving Erin a marked woman. Randall eyed her, clamping his lips on 'I thought you chased jocks, ' and settling for "What can I do for you?" Erin was a mixed collection of features. Her face was somewhat pixyish under short blonde hair, with a cute nose -- but crooked teeth and a receding chin. Right now, she was kind of cute, but one look said she'd get homely as she aged. The bust line was nothing to write home about, not that Randall cared, particularly; in his opinion, Darla Jean had plenty, and Erin was competitive. But Erin managed to be bowlegged and pigeon-toed, and she was a total airhead... "Peggy says you're a pretty good tutor," she announced. Randall found himself wondering how long she'd worked on that particular double-entendre -- or if it was even deliberate, for that matter. "Thanks. Maybe I should hire myself out." The comeback left her dead in the water, "Uh, yeah. Jeez, what would you charge?" Randall eyed her. "I guess it depends on the subject." "Um. I was hoping I might take it out in trade..." By now, Randall had a pretty good grip on what was up. "Oh?" "Um, yeah, like Peggy did..." Erin blushed, solidifying things. Randall didn't let her off the hook. "I didn't charge Peggy, so I guess she didn't pay me." The blush got worse. "Oh, Man..." She turned away. Randall took pity on her. "Do you really need tutoring?" "Well, uh, maybe..." "But that's not why you're here..." "No." Randall frowned. "Maybe I paid Peggy fifty bucks to tell people I'm a stud." "No, I'm not buying that." Erin managed to get her eyes back onto his. "Money well spent, then." Randall grinned. Erin grinned back, but it was tentative. This teasing... Randall sighed. "Let's go somewhere neutral and talk." "Okay. Gino's?" "All right." Randall led the way out. In the parking lot, logistics raised itself as a subject. "Together, or separate?" Erin asked. "Ummm, it'd be both reputation-saving and convenient if we went separately," Randall hazarded. "Okay." Erin didn't bother to hide her disappointment, but Randall was right. Besides, it would give her a few minutes to ponder how things were going before things got deep. Randall's reactions were... convincing. He was confident, and he was acting like a guy who was getting laid often enough to have standards. Last week, things would probably have been different, but then last week, Randall hadn't made the cut... Now, SHE was asking HIM, and he was acting fully capable of saying 'No'... At Gino's, the pair picked a booth that wasn't hidden, but WAS off the beaten path. Erin ordered a Coke, and Randall a Dr. Pepper, letting the waitress wander off before Erin nerved herself for the next pass. Randall beat her to it: "Why me?" "I... need to know..." "Know what?" Randall demanded. "Okay." Erin gathered herself. "You know about Rob." It was a statement, not a question. Randall nodded confirmation. "Well, there have been a couple of others, not as good -- I'm still kind of hung up on Rob. I need to know if he was really THAT good..." "Oh." Randall scratched his head. "I don't know if I'm competition." "Well," Erin cocked her head, "this way we can both find out..." "I have a lot to lose, here -- and very little to gain," Randall groused. "Ummm, how about this?" Erin offered. "If it's not that good, I promise NEVER to tell ANYBODY, male or female?" "How do I enforce that?" "I'm sure there is something nasty you could spread about me..." "Okay." This sure was weird; Randall would have never believed he'd be sitting there trying to talk a girl out of having sex with him... "So, are you in a hurry?" "Well, my Mom doesn't get home until eight..." That seemed to define not only when, but where, too... "Protection?" "Um, rubbers?" "Yeah." "I don't have any." Randall thought about chiding her for pushing such things without being fully prepared, but then he had second thoughts. He probably needed large ones, anyway, and she wouldn't know that. "I have some." He rubbed his face. "Now, then?" "Umm, yeah." "Okay." Randall dropped money on the table to cover the check, and the pair moved back out to the parking lot. "I'll follow you." On the way to Erin's, Randall kept going over the situation again and again. What had happened? Why was he suddenly the gold standard for sex? Nothing made sense... When Erin pulled into her driveway, Randall parked on the street next door so as to make things less obvious, then snagged a couple of rubbers from his newly-acquired stash in the glove compartment. When he joined her on her front step, Erin turned, wordless, and unlocked the door, preceding him into the house and down the hall to what was obviously her bedroom. Erin closed the door, leaving Randall standing in the center of the room, wondering 'What next?' "So, you want to make out or something?" This was sooo... cold? "Um, yeah. Sure." Erin came forward, close to Randall, then murmured, "Why don't you undress me?" "Uh, sure." Randall started fumbling with Erin's blouse, a sleeveless, round-necked affair, while he added, "This is 'way too much like going to the doctor's office. We're going to need to get into it, or we're doomed..." Erin raised her arms for Randall to lift the blouse, and spoke as her head cleared the neck, "Yeah, I know -- but there's no need to spend a week messing with romance when we REALLY want to know about sex. Once I'm naked and you're naked, I bet things will heat up." She turned around to allow Randall access to the clasp of her bra, and then leaned forward to let it drop off her shoulders. Turning back around, she licked her lips and murmured, "If things turn out to be good, we can always backtrack some on the romantic parts..." Well, the tits were as advertised, Randall reflected, not huge but not bad. He knelt to work the snap of Erin's hip-huggers, unzipping them, then running into a surprising amount of trouble attempting to get them off her ass. 'C'mon, ' he thought to himself, 'it's not THAT big!' It wasn't, either, but the jeans were painted on, it seemed; Erin had to lend a hand. Finally, she stepped out of them and stood there in just a pair of red panties, which Randall made quick work of. "Well?" Erin spun slowly, letting Randall take it all in, "This is it... What do you think?" Randall eyed the package. Many things about it he already knew -- even the pair of dimples in Erin's lower back. The legs weren't showpieces; they were thin and bowed, and her knees were the largest parts. On the other hand, they weren't awful, either. Her butt looked okay, and the patch of fur on her mound was almost as blonde as the hair on her head. All in all, it wasn't Pamela Anderson, but it was more than sufficient to be arousing. Randall suspected that if he opened his mouth at this juncture, he'd screw something up, so he merely smiled and nodded, presenting his shirt cuffs so that Erin could start undressing him. She smiled and began getting him out of his shirt. When she had him fully unbuttoned, she stepped forward to push the fabric off his shoulders, smiling into his eyes as she sensed approval. Randall went for a short kiss, which she returned while divesting him of his T-shirt -- until passing it over his head broke the lip-lock. Erin knelt to go to work on his pants, and Randall watched, bemused, reaching down to toy with her hair. Erin concentrated on what she was doing; there was a stiff cock behind that zipper, for sure, but how big it was wasn't certain... Peggy had more or less indicated that it was sizeable, but how big could it be? Rob had been a handful, but her other two experiences had been with wiener-sized dicks -- nothing incredible... Once his jeans were down, there was a sizeable tent in Randall's boxers, though. Erin pulled open the waistband and jerked them down, exposing herself to a shock! "Oh, my!" Randall glanced down, bemused. "Something wrong?" "It's huge!" "Not really..." "Well, it's the biggest I'VE ever seen! Are you sure it will fit?" "Uhhh..." Erin had him, there. Peggy had had problems. "I've read that any woman can adapt, and this isn't REALLY a record-breaker..." Erin wasn't convinced. The thing topped Rob's -- which was sizeable -- and almost made two of her other two conquests! "Well, we're gonna have to start easy, and I might need lube..." "No problem. That's what foreplay is for..." Randall pulled her to her feet and into an embrace, starting another kiss. Time to get things out of the doctor's office and into the bedroom... Erin was all for that! Where had Randall gotten so confident? She leaned in, accepting the invasion of his tongue and the hands drifting over her bare ass. Mmmmmmm, maybe she'd get wet this time, like with Rob? 'Confident' wouldn't have been Randall's description of himself; he was suffering from considerable performance anxiety. Direct comparisons with Rob Graham weren't something he expected to be a big winner at -- at least, not in THIS area. Erin was a tight-lipped kisser, whose tongue didn't follow his back into his mouth after he made a sally into hers, but that was okay... Her ass felt nice in his hands and her nipples poked his chest -- things appeared to be going fairly well... "Let's crash on the bed," he murmured, stepping back, "I need to get to work on that..." 'That' was Erin's furry little beaver; Randall cupped it in his hand. "Oh! Okay!" Erin jumped a foot at the contact, but Randall seemed to know what he was doing... She backed onto the bed and Randall followed, resuming the attack on her pudenda with his right hand, rubbing her labia with three fingers while he lowered his lips to a stiff, pink nipple. "Ooooohhhh!" Nipple action and direct stimulation brought Erin's clit to its fully engorged state; Randall sure seemed to know what he was doing! So masterful! Randall, however, was somewhere else entirely! How fast do you go when the girl seems willing to let you do anything you want? Was he rushing things? Would he mess things up if he kept moving quickly? Surely, Rob had gone to considerable warm-up -- did he need to, too, in the face of Erin's apparent urgency? His fingers found the little nub of her clit, but it was pretty dry down there, still. Could he afford to shift things to her opening for a bit to see if she was getting damp, or would that kill it for her? "How's that?" "Oooohhh, God!" It was GREAT! Erin was excited like she hadn't been in a long time! This was a LOT better than masturbation! "Well, let me know if you want anything..." Randall went back to the nipple he was working, slowly upping the pressure. He began gently chewing... "Oh! Oh! OHH!" Erin thrashed. "You okay?" Randall, withdrew his lips and teeth, worried. "Uh HUH! Great!" Erin grabbed his head and urged him back into place. The nursing and teething at her nipples was causing intense flashes of sensation in her tender nubs that rippled outward to enhance Randall's efforts at her clit. Encouraged, Randall used further abuse of Erin's nipple as cover while he checked for moisture at her opening. Finding a bit, he worked his middle finger into her vagina, searching for more. Erin was the soul of cooperation, bending her knees and spreading her legs until they were flat on the bed. "Oooohhhh! Nice!" Her hand wanted his giant cock, but the way he was oriented, she couldn't reach it. Randall worked some of Erin's juices back up her slot to ease the friction at her clitoris, which brought an even more intense reaction. Could he find a way to work both ends at once? Yeah. His thumb could ride her clitoris while his middle finger plumbed her channel. That worked, although he had to pay close attention so as not to just use one point of contact to support the other. Good thing, too -- she seemed pretty tight... Erin was amazed -- where did he come up with these things? Randall supplied one wild sensation after another... She lay there, motionless, cataloguing the sensations... ... Which bothered Randall no end! Erin was moaning occasionally, and making the odd exclamation, but in the main, she was just breathing hoarsely through her nose. How excited WAS she? When should he move on? Well, her vaginal opening had dilated a bit, at least... Randall extracted his middle finger and replaced it with his ring finger, moistening it for a few seconds before working them both in. Erin moaned, "Oooooohhhh..." Well, THAT seemed okay. Three fingers shouldn't be required; he'd give her a couple of minutes of this and just go for it... TWO FINGERS! That was SOOOO GOOD! Erin lay there, clenching and unclenching her fists, her face a rictus. God! She might even cum! Better hold still, so as not to joggle Randall's elbow... Randall raised up to check on his play partner. From the look on her face, either she was loving it, or she was hating it -- but which wasn't clear... "How does that feel?" "G-good! REAL good!" Erin got out. Relieved, Randall asked, "Should I go on?" "Uh huh." Randall had had the foresight to fish the rubbers out of his pants and toss them on the bed; now he snatched one and tried to figure out how he was going to put it on while keeping her going. "Here, open this, will ya?" Erin, glassy-eyed, snatched the rubber and started to work at the cover. Randall got up on his knees and reached across Erin to get at her left breast, ignored until now, twisting and tugging the nipple in an effort to keep her going while bringing his erection to her to mount the prophylactic on. This worked fine for Erin; the fingers weren't teeth, but were capable of considerable pressure, and she could finally get at that cock... Either Erin was clumsy, or rubbers weren't fun -- or both! Randall gritted his teeth and hoped he wouldn't lose his erection while Erin rolled the damned thing on. Darla Jean and Peggy had spoiled him; neither of them had bothered with one, even though Darla Jean was unprotected. Well, maybe it would keep him from ejaculating too fast... Erin didn't like the change in texture -- you couldn't jack a cock properly when it wore one. But she wasn't on birth control, soo... "Okay!" Randall slid between Erin's splayed legs and began attempting insertion -- which wasn't easy, since Erin only got so wet. Mildly damp was more descriptive, and lubricated or not, a condom isn't any too slippery. But he made headway, and inch at a time; in a bit, back out to spread lubrication, in a bit more... Finally, after a minute and a half or so of abortive short-stroke activity, he was seated. Erin was amazed that she took it all! She felt very full. Thus far, however, irritation of her membranes vied with pleasure; things weren't any too amazing. Maybe she should stick to little dicks? But soon Randall started moving with more authority, and she started loosening up; things went from marginal to very, very good in about ten seconds! Unfortunately, they hung there... Randall set up a nice steady stroke and awaited results. The rubber attenuated things to the point that an immediate orgasm wasn't in the cards, so he shifted gears, testing his control -- a little higher, a little lower, faster, slower, long stroke, short stroke... Fairly quickly, it became apparent that no matter what he did, Erin was just going to lie there breathing funny and moaning periodically. Nothing seemed to impress her... Actually, Erin was thrilled to death! Randall's cock felt wonderful, sawing in and out of her; it provided rich sensation -- but getting Erin to orgasm historically required several minutes' worth of dancing fingers on her clit. Had the insertion been easy at all, Randall might have succeeded in the first few moments, while the penetration was new and the clitoral stimulation he'd done before had her set up; a few good bangs to her clit, and she might have blown. But things hadn't gone that way, so now Erin was happy, but nowhere near an orgasm. Instead, she held herself still in order to keep things coming continuously and to provide a stable platform for Randall to try things on. Randall was young and energetic, but he wasn't the Energizer Bunny! The rubber and the fight to get into Erin had attenuated things for him past the early urge to ejaculate prematurely that he had experienced with his previous two partners, and performance anxiety ladled atop a lengthy bout of continuous exercise was resulting in serious frustration! Erin's vagina had loosened up to the point that movement was almost frictionless -- which wasn't really a good thing -- and she just lay there, stiffening and relaxing at intervals, but otherwise not volunteering any effort or even advice on how to get her going. If Rob had managed to bring her to orgasm, he was a better man than Randall! Actually, Randall had exceeded Rob's capabilities at the time of his conquest of Erin during foreplay; Erin had been one of Rob's first conquests, and he hadn't objectively done that well with her. Experience had honed Rob's skills quite a bit, but at the rate he was going, Randall would be objectively the better lover, in time. Randall was already MUCH better than Rob had been at the time he bedded Erin... Erin wasn't vocal, though, and Randall didn't know; certainly, nothing that she'd done or said was confidence-building. Randall tried deliberately bashing Erin's clitoris again, something he could only keep up for about a minute or so at a time... Erin LOVED that! It was great! It was the best thing Randall did! But she needed him to go twice as long before she could get over the top... Randall throttled back, exhausted, and stared failure in the face. Erin had gotten so loose, and she just laid there like a log... Nothing seemed to faze her, although she'd started to get red in the face a moment ago... What else could he do? She was too short to kiss, and didn't seem to be inclined. His position over her didn't allow for playing with her nipples again; he could raise up, maybe, but he didn't know if he could go on in an upright position. Schooling himself to keep from snarling, he asked, "How am I doing?" "Oh, great!" Erin effused. "Wonderful! I love it!" Was she jerking his chain? "You don't seem to have cum..." "Noooo... I never have, this way, actually..." "No?" What the fuck was he doing here, then? "Uh uh. I generally have to beat the Hell out of my clit..." Damn! There was NO WAY he could get at her clitoris! "Uh, maybe you should diddle yourself, then..." "Oh! That's not right, is it?" "Well, I read somewhere that some women just can't orgasm without clitoral stimulation." The look on Erin's face said, 'Am I a freak?' so he added, "A large percentage, actually. Why don't you try it?" "Well, okay," Erin eyed him dubiously. Maybe she was a lesbian. Did a cock feel this good to a lesbian? It felt REALLY GOOD, a rich, full feeling with the added layer of being helpless beneath Randall's pounding attack. Tentatively, she went to work on her buzzing clit. The little nub of flesh was already up, fully engorged, waiting for something to abuse pleasure out of it. In fact, it took no time at all for Erin to discover that she was three-quarters of the way to orgasm and the background of Randall's efforts were making it a LOT easier than usual. Erin's usual efforts at masturbation were like playing a lone guitar; Randall added a string ensemble in support, making for something richer, more powerful... Two things happened almost immediately: Erin pinked up again, and her vagina tightened around Randall's cock! "Mmmmm, yeah! That's better, isn't it?" Randall started extracting pleasure from his work, as Erin's tightened inner lining increased his stimulation. "Oh, boy! OHHHH BOY!" The constriction increased Erin's pleasure, too, which started a feedback loop. "Can I move my legs?" Suddenly, she couldn't hold still... "Sure..." Randall didn't know how she'd managed to stay splayed for so long without cramping, anyway. Hey, was her ass moving? It was. Erin was starting to show a bit of muted animation all over. As much as she tried to hold still, her ass clenched, and her knees wiggled, and her pussy was gripping, relaxing, gripping, relaxing... Her control was shredding; the harsh buzz in her clit said a BIG one was coming -- but that seemed to be the least of it! Randall was generating something that seemed to hover out there, huge; when the familiar pop went off, the dam would break and she would drown! Instinctively fearing inundation, she withdrew her fingers from her clitoris. But it was too late; she'd have gotten there, anyway, and maybe it would have been gentler, but Randall had sensed her excitement, and it had triggered a matching excitement in him. The tickle in his cock that presaged orgasm came upon him and he started sledge hammering her pubic mound in a last minute effort to bring her home. "OOOH MY GOOOOOD!" Erin wailed. Randall's pounding turned out to be even better than her fingers in that moment; shock waves of pleasure poured from her vagina and clitoris, sweeping everything before them. Erin wrapped her legs behind Randall's thighs, clutching him to her while her clit detonated once, twice, three times! Randall pulled over the top by her reaction, jammed himself into her releasing his pent-up ejaculate. Erin felt the pulse against her cervix as it punched the tip of the rubber and went away... Nobody was more surprised than Randall! Once she finally got going, her tunnel's rhythmic clasp was inescapable! He surged and grunted, firing the first pulse of his orgasm, and watched Erin's eyes roll up while her body clutched and hunched and shook... "Erin... Erin? Are you okay?" Erin swam to consciousness to see Randall eyeing her worriedly. She couldn't move; her entire body was drained, lethargic. Speech was an effort, too, "Mmmm... Yuh. Uh, yes, I'm okay..." Actually, 'okay' didn't BEGIN to describe it, but it would do for the moment. Randall heaved a sigh. He'd been afraid that Erin had had a seizure or something when her eyes rolled up like that. "Are you sure?" Erin laughed breathlessly. "Oh, Randall, I'm wonderful! You're wonderful! I CAME! Not just a little cum, like when I diddle -- a BIG cum! I NEVER came like that before! You're incredible!" "Gee, I dunno. I wasn't doing that well until I told you that you should, uh, masturbate..." "Oh, no!" Erin disagreed, shaking her head. "You were great from the start! I loved it -- I could have let you ride me all night!" "Well, I wouldn't have lasted much longer." Randall grimaced. "You make it sound like I was accomplishing something. I... wasn't sure." "You WERE! You wiped Rob with your fingers! I was afraid to move, for fear I'd screw it all up..." "What?" Randall was nonplussed. "Uh, look -- it's, uh, better if you move... I thought I wasn't accomplishing ANYTHING!" Randall shook his head. "You were kind of, uh, wooden..." "Oh. Bad?" Erin winced. "Yeah. Sort of depressing. You can, uh, loosen up, right?" "Yeah. At least, I think so." Was that why no one ever came back for seconds? Damn! She glanced away, embarrassed -- and picked up the clock. "God! Is it that late?" Randall followed her eyes. "We were at it for quite a while..." "My mom will be home soon!" "Sounds like my cue..." Randall backed off. ------- The movie was a 'chick flick' -- a romantic comedy. On the initial pass, they decided that Mary should sit in the middle, so that she could claim to be with either of the boys, as necessary. But midway through the movie, Mary went to the bathroom -- and on her return, she murmured to Stick, "Scoot over. This is getting ridiculous." Stick ended up with an arm around Mary and an arm around Teddy, and everyone else's opinion be damned... The three of them had a great time, kidding each other over the foolishness going on on-screen and generally relaxing. Burgers afterward were similarly relaxed. Not until the boys delivered Mary home did seriousness intervene. "How are we going to handle the Astronomy Club meeting tomorrow?" she asked. "Teddy and I need to be there..." "Who else?" Stick asked. "Jimmy Hightower, Amy Kelleher, Randall Braithewaite, Darla Jean Nevins -- probably Danny the Wop and Thelma Franken, too." "Why is this important?" "When we needed an alibi for Teddy last weekend, Amy and I led Darla Jean into a set-up so that Randall could take a shot at her. Randall feels... responsible for the shit Darla Jean got into last night with Ted Phipps. He wants us to tell all..." "Guess I can go to that," Stick allowed. "Think they'll make us?" "They're the Brain Trust..." Mary replied. "Does it matter?" "No," Teddy volunteered. "They're cool." "Awright," Stick grunted. "I'm goin' then." "Cool." Teddy nodded. "See you in the morning, Mary." He popped up to kiss her good night. "Night, Hon." Mary bussed him one. "Night Stick." "Night, Baby." Stick stepped in and got his kiss, and the boys headed for the car. "Think we're really gonna keep a lid on this?" he asked Teddy. "It'll come out, sooner or later," Teddy replied. "But it probably won't matter, if it's close enough to graduation. It really depends on who learns about it and what they think. My friends won't care, and they won't talk." "Cool." Stick ruffled Teddy's locks. ------- Nate spent the whole trip back to the warehouse dreading what he'd find there. Roland eyed him in some amusement as he ranted and raved, but things were quiet when they got to the dock. DiAngelo was nowhere in sight, so Roland asked one of the other drivers what had gone on. "Nuthin'. Nuthin' at all," the guy replied. "I think Di was pissed; they didn't even raise their voices at one another. Di went in to do some work a while ago, and nobody has come out..." Roland and Nate shared a glance, and Roland grunted, "Let's clean up the truck before we go see which bodies hafta be disposed of..." Nate rolled his eyes and went to pull down some rain gear. Twenty minutes later, Roland rapped on the office door. At DiAngelo's grunt, Roland and Nate entered to find him working at his desk, Stella working at her small one, and Nora seated in a chair, listening to her CD player. " 'Bout time you got back," DiAngelo grunted. "You wanna get her outta here so I can take care of business?" Stella glanced up; she knew what THAT meant. Nora did, too. She snatched of her headset and rose to kiss her boyfriend, then turned to Stella. "Okay, Nate can talk nasty to you, but that's it, understand? Unless I'm here watching, you don't get any more." Stella got this deer in the headlights look. "You'd watch?" "I might." Nora eyed her a moment. "You'd like that, huh?" "Oh, yeah!" Stella nodded. "A lot!" she added, earnestly. Nora grinned. "We'll see." She turned to Nate. "Are you ready?" "Yeh." He turned and led the way out, anger and embarrassment an aura around him. DiAngelo stopped him at the door, "Kid! Saturday or Sunday?" Nate stood glaring at Nora. She'd been going to get some input -- but now... "Sunday. Okay?" "Fine. See ya then. Noon." DiAngelo waved his release. Roland waited until the door closed before chuckling. "Well, Stella -- he's plenty mad. You might get some a' him after all, 'cause they might break up over this." "You think?" Stella asked. "Damn! I think I'd rather have her watch than suck Nate's dick..." Roland grunted laughter. "You're amazin'! If I'd a' got to ya first, I'd have a half-dozen little half-breed kids an' I wouldn't hafta work, 'cause you'd be peddlin' the leftovers at parties..." Stella laughed. "Roland! You say the sweetest things! Been learning from Nate?" "Awright, enough with the compliments! Get over here and kneel up!" DiAngelo grunted. "All this shit tonight's made me horny!" "Me, too!" Stella agreed, stepping out of her skirt and crossing to her boss. "How do you want me?" "On your back. Get up on the desk," DiAngelo replied. "How is it you two managed not ta rip each other's hair out?" "She just wanted to make sure I didn't poach -- and she wanted to know why," Stella replied. "I'd never told a woman why... It was... hot." Stella dropped her head over the edge of the desk and eyed Roland upside- down. "Want some throat? I could use the extra..." "If I don't plug the ol' lady tonight, SHE'LL be down here tomorra an' you WILL lose some hair!" Roland grunted. "How 'bout I see if Lou is around?" Stella nodded, her face flickering to DiAngelo's penetration at mid-nod. Roland shook his head and stalked out. Nate was silent until they were in the car. "You coulda' fucked me up in there!" he ranted. "I know, Honey," Nora replied, penitent, "but I didn't..." "What else am I gonna hear about it?" "Nothing," Nora replied. "Stella knows the rules. I'll want to know about it, but that's it..." "That AIN'T it, and you KNOW it!" Nate ranted. "Did you see the look on her face when you said you might watch? She gets off on stuff like that!" "Oh, I know," Nora agreed, "she told me her whole sordid history! Your boss is lucky -- she's a classic submissive!" "Well, YOU'RE gonna be submissive tonight!" Nate ranted. "I'm gonna beat that ass..." "Okay." Nora's eyes took on a gleam. "If you don't damage it too much, maybe you'll want to fuck it..." "You're trying' to distract me!" Nate admonished. "Yeah," Nora agreed, eyeing him sidelong. "Is it working?" "No." A second or two went by, and Nate shrugged, rolling his eyes, "Yeh. You're still gonna get it, though." "Okay." 'We'll see... ' ------- Velma sat in the kitchen, stoically riding out some mild cramping while awaiting the kids' return. The 'morning after' pill probably wasn't required -- Beckman had confirmed that she was nowhere near ovulation -- but he'd ranted and raved at her about the perils of pregnancy for a woman with her issues with weight and a family history of high blood pressure. Then he'd given her a shot that was supposed to last three months; if it turned out that she needed it, she could renew it then -- if not, she could go back off birth control. Velma REALLY, REALLY wanted to be a candidate for more shots... The kids came in, and Velma got up and put dinner in front of them. Miss Nora was obviously buttering young Mistah Nate up over sumpthin'; she musta stepped in it somewheres. Velma figured that was a good thing; the man oughta wear the pants in the family, in her mind. She wasn't used to anyone really running HER life (work didn't count), but she enjoyed the way ol' Ed argued and fought and pushed and prodded at her barriers -- it added a lot of spice to their relationship... Which, of course begged the question -- did they HAVE a relationship? Ed had been quick with meals and run and hid after; had the sock thing been too much? It had certainly been funny at the time... Mebbe he was just busy -- there was a lot of hammerin' an' such goin' on... There was, too. Ed was VERY busy, extending Jason's rooms by connecting them to the next suite. Jason was making his life difficult by insisting that he keep everything in his suite squeaky clean while he did it, too, which required a ton of extra effort and inconvenience. Inez had stood by all day, except for a period when she left in the afternoon, constantly dusting and cleaning, but sawdust and sheetrock was messy stuff; Jason had bitched and bitched on his return from the office, and Ed had to go to Inez's aid to keep her from getting the strap. Fortunately, the pass- thru was about done; that left some adjustments to the other suite itself to set it up the way Jason wanted it. There was still an open question over whether a connecting door to the playroom was required -- but seeing some of the changes Jason had requested for the suite itself, Ed didn't see any reason for it. Another oddity was the odd color that Inez, with Jason's approval, picked for the small room just inside the pass-thru -- a happy little pastel that Ed associated with nurseries... Jason had requested an intercom from the room to his bedroom, too, disconnected from the main house system. Odd. Even odder, given the Boss' standing orders on such things, the Boss had approved it when Ed braced him with the requirement. "I don't need to know what goes on in there," the Boss had grunted. Weird. Ed covered his ass by making it easy to plug into the house system, eventually. ------- Chase entered Tabitha's room at the safe house. "Paul called. Says he's busy tonight and asked for a rain-check. And that he'll be in tomorrow." He eyed the skinny black woman. "What's up?" "Nuthin' apparently," Tabitha grunted irascibly. "None a' yo' damn business, anyways!" "Sorry," Chase grimaced. "I wish I fuckin' knew, okay? Sumpthin' 'bout the big stupid fucker makes me all drippy! Ain't mutual, though," she sulked. "Uh, okay." Chase discovered that he'd gotten more information than he really wanted. "Don't count him out just yet." He paused a second. "Why not Scott, or somebody..." "Somebody black?" Tabitha filled in. "I dunno. Scott..." She couldn't explain it, but Scott struck her as weird as feet on a fish. Scott was a white guy in a brother suit -- nice, in a way, she guessed, but why not just DO the white guy? Scott just bothered her. Besides, it wasn't as if she'd never taken a white dick -- Hell, she probably did more o' them than blacks! Bruthuhs got pushy -- wanted to own your ass for fifty lousy bucks! Tabitha wasn't into the casual ownership thing. White boys tended to understand that it was a business proposition -- a short-term rental, and there were rules of occupancy... "Look, it's a one-off, probly. You ever get tickled by sumpthin' odd -- sumpthin' you never though you'd fuck with?" "Yeah, now you mention it," Chase agreed. "Cool. Well, don't get too upset. Paul can be slow to come around, sometimes. You never know." ------- Chapter 34B: Randall's Reputation Paul, uncharacteristically, had lied. He was sitting in his small apartment, flipping channels on TV and trying to figure out why he was even entertaining the idea of bedding a skinny, wasted-looking black woman. But the crazy bitch set him off... It made no sense; she was a professional hooker -- not even high-end -- and a druggie. He was a professional, and she was his client -- that was reason enough to avoid her right there. But she didn't care... What the Hell did she see in him? And why on Earth would he seriously consider falling into bed with her? ------- "Mom?" Sharon glanced up from her work, "Dear?" "Do you have any... K-Y jelly?" Nora asked. "What?" "I... need some K-Y jelly..." "Why?" "MOM! Do I really have to draw you a picture?" "Why?" "I, uh, kind of stepped in it..." "And you're buying Nate off?" "Well, yeah, but we were going to do it soon, anyway..." Nora was positively purple. "I don't have any. You could ask your father..." Sharon's smile would have done credit to a crocodile. "MOM! Good God!" "Well, we can try something else..." Sharon punched the intercom. "Felicia?" "Mistress?" "Do you have access to any personal lubricants?" "Um, there might be something in the playroom. For you?" "No, but I'll deliver it." Sharon eyed Nora. "I'm on my way." Sharon turned to Nora. "If you cherish your anonymity, you should leave. I'll bring it to you." Nora nodded and stepped out. Moments later, the Wench appeared in the door. "How about Glide?" "Is it okay for anal use?" "Yeah. Not as long-lasting as some, but sometimes that's better, anally. You don't want to get TOO frictionless..." the Wench grinned, tossing a small squeeze bottle to Sharon. "Since it's not for you..." "The list is pretty short?" Sharon smiled. "Nora is apparently offering Nate a bribe to ignore some trespass..." "I saw them the other night. She wasn't going to keep THAT cherry for long..." "Felicia!" "He's playing with her ass constantly! She had less than a week, anyway! Trust me!" "You're kidding, right?" "He loves that ass! He can't keep his hands off of it! I've seen them!" the Wench laughed. "Well, then..." Sharon waved dismissal. Five minutes later, she rapped on Nora's door, then threw it open before her daughter and her boyfriend could react. "Here!" She tossed the bottle at Nora. "Oh, and Nate -- don't let her get away with whatever she's trying to weasel out of -- spank her first!" Nora caught the bottle and flashed a look at Nate -- whose eyes carried a glint. "You promised!" "I didn't have instructions from your Mama to tighten you up!" "Since when do you listen to Mom?" Nora started backing across the bed. "Since it's what I should be doin' in the first place!" Nate lurched, and Nora's wrist was caught in a vise. "Nate! Noooo!" Gawd, he was strong! Nora found herself across Nate's knees, AGAIN! "No! Not the jeans! DON'T!" "Get 'em off!" "Nate, please!" "Now!" Smack! "Owww! Nate!" "Smack!" "Okay! Okay!" Nora started skinning out of her jeans. "Can I stand up?" Nate thought about it. "If you're quick." "Can I have my arm?" "What am I, stupid?" "Nate!" "Get 'em off!" The hand came up. "Okay, okay!" Nora went to work, one-handed. "Nate, Honey..." "Uh uh. Don't even start!" "Look, you're not gonna..." "I'm gonna catch shit for tonight FOREVER! We need to iron out who is boss, here! I love you, Baby, but damn!" There was a jerk, and Nora was back over his lap. SMACK! "Oww!" SMACK! "Nate!" SMACK! "Please!" "Please what?" "Uh, stop?" "No, that ain't it." SMACK! "Oww!" SMACK! "Okay, okay! I'm sorry!" "You said THAT before we started!" SMACK! "Oh, Gawd!" SMACK! There was something intensely satisfying about watching Nora's ass cheeks deform under the shock waves from the impacts. SMACK! Nora had gone silent, but was making the periodic convulsive twitches that said she was sobbing. Nate let her have five more -- more because it pleased him than because she needed them -- and raised her up. "You gonna be good?" He got a wet face in his shoulder, but it was nodding. "Awright." He rubbed her back, holding her while she settled down. It took ten minutes before she pulled away. "What about... ?" "It can wait. It's mine, ain't it?" "Uh huh." "Let's go to bed. If it happens, it happens." It didn't. They made long, slow, soft love in which orgasms were no less intense for having only elicited a soft, emphatic grunt. ------- "Traitor!" Nora glared at her mother from the breakfast table as she entered the kitchen on Friday morning... Sharon shrugged. "I'm just doing my job -- making sure your father doesn't turn you into some leather-clad dominatrix." She got herself a cup of coffee while Velma stood by, watching to make sure Miz Sharon got all of her needs fulfilled. "Were you naughty? Did you deserve it?" "Maybe. But other couples..." "One thing your father has taught me is that just because some people act like lemmings, you don't have to. I know Nate keeps things to an area that MY mother and father felt free to use, and if it was that bad, it would be an issue between YOU, not an issue between US. Besides, Nate enjoys it." Sharon's eyes conveyed the final message in her response, '... and you do, too!' "Well..." Nora dropped her eyes; that final message was the most damning. Nate's spankings hurt like Hell, but she got a kind of emotional release from them. Sharon's eyes swiveled to Nate. "Nate, a reminder. When it's punishment, it's always over, afterward. You don't bring it back, again and again. If it ISN'T over, that's not the right way to handle it." Nate eyed her. Mama Wilson was growin' up -- you could see it. She wasn't as tentative as she used to be. And he was clearly family... "What if it ain't punishment?" Sharon looked mildly amused. "Then it isn't." She glanced away. "To have a woman in this family respond to a little recreational pain is not unheard of..." "MOM!" "What? I've had my nose rubbed in it! Wake up and smell the coffee!" Velma, the only witness to this exchange who was not involved directly, turned away, thoroughly embarrassed. Well, they were da Boss' womenfolk... Sharon, having sunk her barbs, was done. "Velma, I'll be eating in my office. Could you send me around half a grapefruit, a bagel, and coffee?" "Yes, Miz Sharon. Yo' shoah yo' don' want more'n dat?" Velma's eyes blackmailed her for the sake of the younger generation's nutrition. "Not today. I like more on occasion, but not always. I know where it goes." She glanced behind her at her ample fundament. "Besides, I'm not still a growing teen. You two could take on a little fruit..." Nora rolled her eyes. "Yes, Mom." Sharon shook her head and turned back toward her rooms. The kids cleared out quickly after that, leaving Velma alone when Ed turned up for breakfast. "Whatchew want fer breakfast, ya fookin' rapist bastid?" Ed looked momentarily like he'd been slapped. He'd been suffering some from yesterday's efforts in Jason's new family apartment, on top of a night of unaccustomed sex, and wasn't ready for a battle of wits. But a glance around said that this wasn't for public consumption, so he rallied. "Waffles, ya silly black slut! Strawberries an' whipped cream, and some bacon! I'm fuckin' starvin'! Can I get cream for my coffee outta them udders of yours?" "Only if'n dat load o' babymakers yo' dumped in me takes hold!" "Uhhh!" Ed discovered his defenses weren't up yet. His eyes flashed to Velma's, but she was grinning. Nonetheless, his unprepared reaction hurt her -- he could see it in her eyes -- and the longer he took to respond... "When would we know? Christmas? When the water broke?" That was better. Velma realized she'd punched out a low blow only after she made the remark, but Ed's expression had hit back, hard. The recovery told her he was back on track... "Ah guess y'all gonna hafta come lissen ta mah belly evah day fo' awhile..." "Shit. Be six months before a kid would make a dent in the noisy shit goin' on in THERE!" Ed laughed. "Ah guess y'all'd hafta lissen HARD!" Velma turned away to start working on waffle batter. "Probly not a good idea, anyways. You'd probly git addicted ta the smell o' mah cooze..." She cracked an egg into the bowl and started measuring out pancake mix from the box. "Ah'd be shoah ta end up carryin' yoah kids if'n DAT happened, ya rapist bastid!" It was the silence that told Velma that something was up. Ed was looking at the door, stricken. Boris was standing in the door, surprise writ large upon his face. Flicking his eyes from one participant to the other, he cleared his throat. "This is a private conversation, no?" Velma rubbed her forehead, leaving a streak of flour. "Ah guess not any mo'..." Embarrassed, she turned back to what she was doing. Worse was the fact that she'd laid a torpedo in the water designed to see if Ed WOULD return -- and Boris had deflected it... Boris glanced at Ed, who shrugged, embarrassed. Boris shrugged back -- it was none of HIS business... unless, perhaps, it WAS rape. "I'll come back." "No, 'sokay," Velma muttered. "What yo' want ta eat?" "What are you making?" "Waffles an' bacon." "That's fine." Boris got some coffee and settled himself gingerly at the table. Things were VERY quiet while Velma put the first waffle in the cooker and started the bacon. Boris broke the ice with a question, "So, how are the ren--, ah, repairs going?" Ed took it up. "The renovations? Okay. Jason's a bastard about dust and shit, so I spend half my time with a shop vac, and Inez spends half of hers dusting the place." He ruminated a moment. "I can't understand why he's all particular about one of the spare rooms in the new area -- weird wall colors, and a special intercom connected to his bedroom..." Velma pondered this while Boris murmured, "Really?" "Yep. I braced the Boss on the intercom setup, an' he said somethin' like, 'I don't wanna know what goes on in there.' Weird thing is it isn't a place to bust on Inez -- he's got another room laid out for that..." "What color is da walls?" Velma burst out. "Washed-out lookin' pastel blue. Like a..." "... Nursery?" Velma interjected, turning to Ed wide-eyed. "Oh, ho lee shit!" Ed smacked his forehead. "That'd mean..." "Inez is carryin'," Velma stated positively. "Ah KNOW Bianca ain't. An' she went ta the doc yestiddy." She eyed Ed significantly. "We went togethah..." Ed absorbed this. So Velma HAD taken precautions. Did she just cover her ass for Wednesday night, or... "Dat would explain why Mistah J was so pissed at her, fo' da last few days..." "Whose do you think it is?" Boris wondered aloud. Velma eyed the big Georgian as if he were a fool. "It be Mistah J's. Ain't no question. No way he'd keep her an' it othahwise." "Hmph. I think you're right." Boris agreed. "Ah am. Mistah J was serious pissed fo' a few days, but he be settlin' down. Ah'm guessin' dat was when he found out he was a daddy. If'n it was Raoul's, he wouldn'ta settled down. Inez'd be gone by now." Velma was absolutely positive. "Dat would explain why da Boss give her ta Mistah J as a slave. No way he'd a' done dat if da baby was Raoul's -- it'd a' opened da do' fo' Mistah J ta do crazy shit. Mistah J done leaned on her pretty hard, but wasn't no crazy shit..." It was a commentary on the nature of the household that the beatings and humiliation Inez had suffered wasn't considered 'crazy shit'. "Don' go blabbin'. Dere be some as knows who'll figger somebody talked, an' dat person's shit will be in da wind." Velma put the first waffle down in front of Ed, along with whipped topping and strawberries. "Bacon be up soon. Boris gets the nex' one." Boris flicked Ed a sly glance that said, 'You get premium service, now?' Ed blushed. "Velma." "Yah." "Drag your lard ass over here." "Whuffo'?" "Jus' do it." Velma left the bacon and shuffled over, "What?" Ed stood and took his napkin to her face, working on the streaks of pancake mix. "White ain't your makeup color." Velma suffered this attention shakily. "So, ain't no kids this week?" Velma glanced at Boris and licked her lips. "Not fo' a while." She locked eyes with him. "Ain't the way Ah'd do things." Ed nodded and sat. "Goin' to burn that bacon..." "An' dat be MAH fault? Wit' yo' jogglin' mah elbow, tellin' me what ta do?" Velma lumbered back to the stove. "Ain't used to that, huh?" Ed grinned, plopping whipped topping on his waffle. "No, Ah ain't! An' don' YOU git any ideas 'bout it, yo' ra-, uh, yo' ol' bastid!" Conversation lapsed. The bacon arrived with Boris' waffle moments later, and Velma laid out the syrup, knowing Boris liked that better than more non-traditional toppings. Ed wolfed his portion down and stood. "I'm outta here," he announced, moving to the coffee pot. "Got to go finish up in there." "Ah thought yo' wanted cream fer dat?" Velma flicked a glance at Ed's cup. Ed sauntered up close, laughing, "You know better!" Leaning in, he whispered, "I like my coffee like I like my women -- Hot and black..." "You!" Shock transfixed her long enough for him to get out of reach. She flicked her eyes to Boris, who assumed a neutral expression -- which told her he'd heard the whisper, too. Boris applied himself to his waffle for a bit, but gradually he decided that he might have a need to know, after all. "How long has this been going on?" "What?" "Velma..." "Coupla days. Weird shit started Monday or Tuesday. He jes' sudden started talkin' shit, an' Ah started back... Nex' thing Ah know..." She shrugged. "What's this about a rape?" Velma sighed, waved a heavy arm. "Wasn't. We was talkin' shit an' Ah sorta dared him. He come in mah room pretendin' ta be drunk -- but his breath smelled lahk vodka, an' tha rest o' him smelled lahk da scotch bottle he was luggin'. Ah didn't put up much of a fight..." She sighed. "It's kinda a game -- Ah swear he raped me an' he swears he was outta his head drunk. Truth is, both a' us needed ta fook." "Is there going to be trouble?" "Naw," Velma sighed. "Well, only if'n he teases me an don't come back... If'n he don' wan no mo', dat's okay," Velma's expression said otherwise, "but he's gonna hafta lay off da other stuff, den." Boris nodded. "That's fair. Should I speak to him?" "Naw. Ya might..." "Stop him?" "Yah." Velma managed to blush. "Okay." Boris got up, filled his coffee cup, saluted her with it, and wandered out, smiling gently. "Ah'm a fallen woman," Velma husked to herself. Bianca walked in and began quickly putting together her own breakfast of a bagel and cream cheese; a glance at the clock said she had no time for anything else. "Yo' runnin' late?" Velma asked her. "I have to rely more on my alarm," Bianca replied. "Mama has other concerns." Velma nodded, chuckling. Bianca eyed her for a moment and muttered, "Velma..." "Not right now," Velma shut it off. "Ah've had enough true confessions dis mornin'. Ya'll come back an' see me later if'n yo' want da skinny, Chile." "Okay." Bianca hit the door, grinning, around her bagel. ------- "Randall? You don't suppose..." "Huh?" Randall spun. Erin. Goo-goo eyed. Uh oh. "I, uh, think we accomplished what we set out to do. If you remember what you've learned, you should be fine..." "Oh." Erin was visibly depressed. "Well, if you ever..." "Um, yeah." Randall looked around. There were at least fourteen people watching the exchange, most of whom were female. Ah, SHIT! Louise Bryant! "You need to set your sights on something that will get you somewhere in the long run, you know?" "Um, yeah." Erin nodded. "Got any ideas?" Randall rubbed his forehead. "That's, uh, kind of up to you." Jeez, what an airhead! Louise was closing... "Look, I got to go. We can talk later, maybe, okay?" Erin followed his nervous glance and nodded. Randall squeezed her shoulder, (probably not a smart move), and got out of there. Nonetheless, he was getting odd looks from half of the girls in school by noon, and Louise Bryant was EVERYWHERE! Gym class was SUPPOSED to be a safe haven, but Toby lit things up with "Ta ta ta TA ta TA! Let's give a big hand for our own Randall 'Superstud' Braithewaite!" "Aw, shit, gimme a break, Toby!" "Get back! Be careful in the showers! The hot rod might misfire!" "Toby! ENOUGH, Man!" Randall ranted, "or I'll get Beulah Tyrone to swallow you!" "You know Beulah, too?" "Not like YOU will!" Randall replied. A dozen guys laughed. "Okay, so what happened?" Toby asked. "Erin has been spreading it all over school that you're superman..." "She's... misinformed." "She's had Rob -- surely that's a basis for comparison..." "Well, she had... challenges. I got really lucky -- and I'm not sure how it happened..." "Is she good?" "She can be, I think," Randall replied. "But not for YOU, Toby. YOU need a Mama. I'll talk to Peggy for you!" "Peggy! EWWWWW!" That got rid of Toby! Still, there was a lot more good-natured ribbing, especially from guys who wouldn't normally be seen with him. Odd, how your stock went up, purely by accident... ------- Mary Nally accosted Darla Jean in the hallway, "You're coming tonight, right?" "Astronomy Club? Are you sure you guys want to be seen with me?" Darla Jean asked. "You're the guest of honor, Hon." Mary rested a hand on Darla Jean's shoulder. "Oh, God! Am I gonna pull a train?" "Hon, I think I ought to remind you that THIS is the bunch that PROTECTED your rep..." Mary remonstrated. "Besides, if you're concerned about who can generate the biggest scandal, I'LL be there -- with BOTH of my boyfriends -- and I GUARANTEE I can generate one that would sweep YOURS under the rug!" "Then what's up?" Darla Jean queried. "Randall seems to feel responsible for your downfall," Mary sighed. "Actually, you'd be surprised at the cast of characters involved, but if you come, we'll all lay it out for you in gory detail..." Darla Jean shrugged. "Randall just opened the door..." "I know that, but he doesn't. You opened HIS, for that matter -- and now he's trying to deal with a case of sudden notoriety..." "Huh?" "You haven't heard the legend that is 'Stud' Braithewaite?" Mary chided. "You HAVE been shunned!" She tittered. "Apparently Erin McGrath tripped him last night and became impaled on his cock; now she's telling the world that he makes Rob Graham look like an amateur!" "No!" "Yes! And poor Randall does NOT know what he's going to do with Bang Nation..." Mary released another titter. "You KNOW they don't meet his mental standards! Even a horndog like Randall has to be able to talk to his women occasionally..." Darla Jean shook her head. On Saturday morning, looking around to see if she could do better had seemed the safe course; now, more and more it appeared that lightning had struck on the first pass, and she'd talked herself out of a good thing. Now Randall had a harem, and she had a reputation as a slut -- and something simple had become extremely complicated... "I think Randall tripped over Erin running from Louise Bryant," Mary prattled on. "She's been all over him like a coat of paint. Although I don't really see what makes her so objectionable..." Darla Jean shrugged. "Me either. In some ways she has more to work with than I do..." "Well, I'm not sure what's up, but Randall can't STAND her -- and she apparently can't take a hint..." Mary mused a moment. "Maybe we should intervene..." She shrugged. "Meanwhile, are you coming?" "I guess," Darla Jean sighed. "Are YOU gonna be there this time?" she asked archly. "Promise. Cross my heart." Mary returned solemnly. ------- If you asked Randall what the problem with Louise was, you'd have unaccountably hit a stone wall -- Randall couldn't really verbalize it. In fact, it defied rational analysis, which paradoxically for Randall made the whole thing even more compelling! Louise just gave Randall the heebie- jeebies! Maybe it was her coloration; Louise was brown. Her skin was a shade that looked like a permanent tan -- not really a bad thing -- but her hair was brown, and her eyes were brown. Louise wasn't huge or anything, but she was just rounded enough to appear dowdy. She was eighteen, but gave off an aura that said 'spinster librarian', apparently twice her age. While Louise wasn't Brain Trust material, she could hold her own, intellectually -- she wasn't stupid, by any means -- but her personality could best be described as 'weak' or 'limp'. Her timid, sheep-like demeanor led her to accept the clothing choices of her controlling mother, items that papered over the fact that she sported 36C breasts and decent, if oddly muscular, legs by covering them in drab fabrics that made her a shapeless lump of shadow. Fact was, if you put Louise in a yellow bikini, the wolves would sit up and take notice -- but it had never happened, and at the current rate, it never would. Louise's big chance SHOULD have been the Prom -- many a girl made ground by proving that they cleaned up well at that function -- but she'd arrived stag in a hideous dress that contrived to de-emphasize her good points while making her look overweight and lost what was probably her only opportunity for some time. Louise's method of attempting to attract Randall's attention reflected her lacks; basically, she was just contriving to be in his line of sight as often as possible, looking moon-eyed and dumbstruck. Randall was seriously unprepared to accept hero-worship; it embarrassed him and caused him to work at ignoring her. Since she would never think of saying a word to him, ignoring her was that much easier for Randall -- but the whole stalker scenario had him spooked. She was there, watching him from one table over while he nervously attacked his lunch when Mary hove into view with the word that Darla Jean would indeed be present for the Astronomy Club meeting. "Good," Randall sighed, "At least SOMETHING is going according to plan!" "Problems?" Mary asked, amused. Randall rolled his eyes. "Girls I've known since kindergarten are suddenly wandering by ogling me like I'm a museum exhibit. Have I grown horns, or something?" Mary settled next to Teddy, chuckling. "Last week, you were getting NO attention, and complaining about THAT!" "Well, yeah -- but it's the expectations! They're ridiculous! The first time things don't go perfectly with some girl, I'll get flushed down the toilet, too!" He leaned forward and added conspiratorially, "Besides, I'm NOT getting attention from anything I WANT..." flicking his eyes at Louise. "Louise might be a catch..." Mary hazarded. "Look, I can't explain it, but no thanks! She's just NOT my type! There's something..." He shuddered. "Want me to see what I can do?" Mary asked. "Would you?" Randall's eyes pled. "I can deal with most of them, but Louise... I can't even be nice to her! It's embarrassing, but..." "Let me see what I can do." Mary hopped up and planted herself across from Louise, "Hey Louise. What's up?" "Oh, nothing." Louise frowned gently; Mary had deliberately placed herself in Louise's line of sight to Randall. "Why are you stalking Randall?" "Stalking?" Louise frowned. "That's a strong word. He's just turned out to be a surprise. I was thinking maybe..." "Well, don't, Hon. It'll just get you hurt. You're not Randall's type. In fact, you're freaking him out!" "What?" Louise was taken aback. "I haven't done anything." "Well, maybe not, but this thing you're doing, chasing him everywhere, looks like stalking. And all it's doing is making him nuts. You need to settle on somebody else, Hon." Louise glared. "YOU just don't want competition!" Mary pealed laughter. "Hon, I have TWO, count 'em, TWO boyfriends! My mother thinks I'm a total slut! I've got neither time nor interest in Randall, except as a friend of Teddy's!" She leaned forward. "But that doesn't change the facts, and the fact is, Randall is embarrassed about it, but he is NOT interested in you at all!" "Well..." Louise looked frustrated, "Why not?" "He can't put a finger on it..." Mary shrugged. "Let's come at this from a different direction. Why are YOU suddenly interested in HIM?" Louise blushed. "Ummm..." "Sex? That's the only thing that has suddenly distinguished Randall in the past week," Mary answered her own question. "Are you into sex?" Mary eyed the other girl closely. "Have you even HAD sex?" "Mary!" Louise had been dating her fingers fairly regularly since she was thirteen, but she'd never even been to first base! "Well, no, but I've got urges. Sex isn't it -- at least, not the whole thing. I want a boyfriend." Mary looked perplexed. "Then why Randall? Do you think you can really put up with the nerdy guy stuff he does all the time? What about that hair?" "Gee, I dunno," Louise mumbled, picking at a french fry. "I guess I figured if he was that good at sex, and that nice to a girl..." "... Everything else was forgivable?" Mary shook her head. "Don't settle, Louise. You'll only end up unhappy." "That's easy for YOU to say!" Louise glared. "I've got nothing! Besides, sex might be really big!" "You need to know -- not guess." Mary sat back and eyed Louise. "What are you willing to do to get a boy?" Louise hesitated, then leaned forward, "Anything." "Anything? That covers a lot of ground!" "What have YOU done?" Louise challenged. Mary shrugged. "Well, quite a bit. And the jury's not in. But if you prostitute yourself to get married, and then you slack off, you'll end up divorced -- guys don't like that. You need to try to cover more bases if you're gonna try to handle the whole thing in one shot... What ELSE do you want?" "Well, all the regular stuff... Good-looking, reasonably smart -- not up to Randall, maybe, but reasonably -- nice and considerate, but kinda in charge..." Louise sat a moment, musing. "And I REALLY think the sex thing will be important." "How important? Randall's a stud, by all accounts; Peggy said she flat couldn't handle him! Maybe you should look for something less intimidating..." Mary snapped her fingers. "You know, Randall isn't the only guy who's turned up on the 'sexually adequate' list this week. I wouldn't wish Ted on a German Shepherd, due to the way he treats people, but... Have you ever considered Dwayne?" "Dwayne's a jock." "Which means?" "He's got girls falling all over him, no doubt." "Uh huh. That's why it took Darla Jean all of three days to hunt him down? Guess again, Hon. But Darla Jean, who by all accounts is high- maintenance in the sack, considers him to be more than adequate. While he's not hung like King Kong and doesn't have the staying power of the Energizer Bunny, he gets the job done quite nicely -- and, maybe more important, he treats you nicely before, during, and after, something you WON'T get from Ted. Last but not least, he's good-looking and has nice buns..." "More than adequate?" Louise cocked an eyebrow. "Hey, talk to Darla Jean, if you want specifics. I just know that we had a girl talk about what REALLY happened to Darla Jean, and Ted came off as a rapist bastard, and Dwayne got the seal of approval..." Mary shrugged. "No shot with Randall?" Louise confirmed, doubtfully. "None," Mary confirmed. "He's embarrassed about it, because he thinks everything should have a logical explanation, but you bother him at a gut level. It's not something that you're gonna overcome." "That sucks," Louise groused. "Well, yeah," Mary agreed. "But it doesn't mean you have anything wrong with you -- it just means that you and Randall don't have any chemistry." "That seems to be the case with me and a LOT of people," Louise sighed. "Thanks for the advice, anyway." "Sure. Good luck." Mary hopped up and returned to her lunch. "How did it go?" Randall asked, unwilling to risk a look at Louise. "Well, I think," Mary sighed. "Poor thing -- she's just looking for a guy..." "Well, she's gone," Teddy observed. "That's ONE down!" Randall muttered, exasperated. "This will all blow over inside a month and you'll be wishing you'd ridden it harder," Mary predicted. "Maybe." Randall wasn't convinced. ------- Chapter 35: Seeing to Bianca's Welfare and Louise's Makeover "What are y'all doin' tonight?" Draper asked Nate. "I'm gonna go see Mama after school, but no big plans after that. Probably be a good idea to take Nora somewhere," Nate muttered. "Probly, bein' it's Friday night. Wanna double? Last weekend was a kick..." "Sounds good. I'll talk to Nora," Nate agreed. "Cool. If 'Nisha gets grabby an' goes diggin' in my fly, won't be no uproar if we're with y'all," Draper chuckled. "You make it sound like you're sufferin'..." Nate laughed. "Yeh." Draper grinned. "What 'bout Stick?" "Him an' Mary an' Teddy are goin' to some club meeting of Teddy's buds." Nate rolled his eyes. "Well, shit happens. If Nora wanted to go, you'd be doin' what?" "Yeah, yeah. Call ya 'bout six?" "Cool." The pair parted company. ------- "Uh, Bianca?" Pete was standing in the door of Bianca's rooms. "Yes, Pete?" What was HE doing here? Pete exuded unease. "Uh, some of your Papa's stuff came back today by UPS. I thought you might want to look through it..." "Oh! Okay." "Where do you want it?" "Ummm, here, I guess. Do you need help?" "I thought to bring a hand truck this time," Pete grinned. "It'll only take a couple of trips." "I'll go with you." As the pair started down the hall to the delivery area, Bianca added, "Thanks! I'm sure most of it is going to be trash, but I'll probably want a couple of things..." "That's what I figured." "Mama might too..." But Bianca wondered about that as soon as she said it. Jason had been very clear that he expected her mother to treat her relationship with Raoul as a closed period in her life, and Mama wasn't showing any reluctance to do so -- relations with Papa had been poor before the breakup, and Jason was both giving and demanding more of Mama's attention that Papa ever did. Pete, obviously thinking the same thing, held his peace. The hand truck could handle six boxes. Pete took a load, dropped it, and went back, with Bianca trailing him the whole time; it turned out that her presence was only necessary when there turned out to be one box too many in the second load. When they were done, there were three stacks of boxes in the sitting room. Pete caught Bianca's hesitation, "Do you know how you're gonna do this?" "Well, I guess I'm going to just dig around. Most of the clothing and stuff isn't going to do anyone any good -- it'll be trash. Mama should be here, I think..." "Good idea. I don't think you should do this alone..." Pete suggested gently. "I'll go get Mama..." "Do you want me to wait?" Pete wasn't offering to guard the boxes, and they both knew it. "If you... don't have anything else to do..." Bianca replied carefully. It was a tacit admission that she wanted to spend time with him, too. "Okay. I'll probably need to help you get rid... uh, take the excess to the trash," Pete stammered. Bianca nodded, mute, and departed. 'I have to be nuts!' he worried, as she disappeared through the door. 'What kind of idiot hunts a fourteen year old?' But the fact was that he was drawn to her, not only physically, but by her emotional vulnerability. Taking advantage of her sexually didn't enter into his current motives; instead, he was more concerned about providing emotional support, warmth and comfort. Where was she going to get that? Jason? It wasn't exactly in his skill set, and her Mama was thoroughly distracted by her new role. The Wench was Bianca's new female confidante -- and if she needed a father figure, well, Pete could keep his dick in his pants... Mama wasn't in Jason's rooms; Bianca found her in the kitchen, working with Velma. "Mama, a bunch of Papa's stuff came back from Kansas City. I have it in my rooms..." Inez stopped what she was doing, considered, and said, "I... really don't want to deal with that. If you find papers and things, you should set them aside for me to look at, but..." "Do you want to keep anything?" Bianca just missed pleading. "If something looks valuable, my flower, you may want to set it aside. We should probably send some things home to the family -- but you get first pick." Inez smiled and pushed Bianca's hair back off her forehead, "The only reminder of our marriage I REALLY want stands here before me -- I need no other keepsakes..." "Okay." Bianca smiled sadly, leaning into her mother's caress, and turned away to handle the task. When she was gone, Velma looked up. "She was lookin' fo' some support; dat goin' through shit gonna be hard on her..." "Oh," Inez grunted. "Selfish of me... When this is ready, I'll go look in on her." It took ten minutes, but Inez found herself standing in the door of her old rooms. What she saw when she got there gave her pause; Pete was there, holding open a box while Bianca methodically emptied it, placing things in two or three separate piles. Neither of the pair was positioned to see her, so Inez merely waited, silently observing. Bianca would extract something from the box, and either place it on the trash pile without comment, or place it on the 'to keep' pile, sometimes murmuring a comment regarding its significance to Pete. Inez watched the pair do an entire box before she realized that she was waiting for something... It happened. The box containing Raoul's knife set surfaced; Bianca opened it, and remarked, "There's one missing..." There was a pregnant pause while she absorbed the significance, then Bianca burst into tears -- Inez realized in that moment that the missing knife was probably the one used in the ill-considered attempt to take out the security guard that ended her husband's life. Pete stood there a second, flustered, then turned to take Bianca into his arms, where she collapsed, crying loudly, clearly deep into the release of her grief. The motion brought Pete around to the point that Inez was visible to him, and he detected her there, lingering in the doorway -- but there was no flinch, no guilt, no surprise in his expression. Instead, there was an accusatory glare, and a flicker of a glance that said, 'You can take over here... ' Inez shook her head. She had gotten the answer to the question that held her rooted in the door; Pete's motives were pure. She backed away and returned to the kitchen, uninterested in entering the emotional maelstrom of her daughter's grief. "Yo' back a'ready?" Velma murmured, mildly surprised. "Pete's with her," Inez, replied, sighing. "He is doing a better job with her than I could..." "Ah. Dat pair gotta thing goin' -- dey ain't done nuthin', but dey both wanna..." "Oh?" "Yeh." Velma cast an amused glance at Inez -- it was amazing how blind she was... "We done talked 'bout it, Bianca an' me. She's gotta crush. Cain't blame her; Pete's downright purty. Da guys tease Pete alla time, 'cause he got the hots fo' her, too, but he won't do nuthin' 'cause she's so much younger..." Inez nodded. "He was being protective, not looking for anything he shouldn't have -- that's why I left them..." "Still, might happen, now. Dis might spark things. Not today, but da door be open. Y'all need ta know 'bout it; Bianca, she'll give herself ta him if'n she gets a chance." "Maybe I should stop them..." "Mebbe it's too late," Velma eyed the Mexican woman. "Y'all kin keep Pete from doin' anythin', 'cause he be a good boy. But if'n Bianca wants him ta get it bad enough, he'll wake up wit' her climbin' in his bed." She mused a moment. "Me, I don' think it's any too bad -- Pete will treat her right, an' she knows it won't last 'cause o' their ages..." "You'd have her sleep with a man who is not her husband?" Inez demanded. Velma didn't say anything; the look she gave Inez said it for her. Inez had no reason to talk... Inez cringed. "I'm an awful parent. I set this terrible example, and now she will follow me to Hell..." "No, Honey, yo' got it wrong!" Velma consoled. "Way Ah see it, yo' did it da way yo' church says to, an' yo' jus' proved that it don't work! Bianca, she be hot-blooded, like her Mama; bettah she find out how it feels when it's done right, 'stead of mixin' up love an' sex an' settlin' fo' sumpthin' dat won't last..." "What if she decides that she loves Pete?" Velma shrugged. "Right now, she knows bettah. Ya CAN do it -- ya CAN be wit' an older guy, if it works right. But love sometimes ain't a fo'evah thing, 'specially when yo' young. She might fall head ovah heels -- but grow outta it, no harm done. You loved dat bastid Raoul, din't ya?" "Yes, when we got married," Inez agreed, "Even for a long time after." "Ya love him at da end?" "Maybe. More than anything else, we were just used to each other." "Yo' was stuck wit' one another. DAT's how yo' folk handle marriage. An' DAT's what's wrong wit' it! Dem rules dat got made for marriage was for folk dat didn't live dat long -- folk dat had roles set up for 'em, an' probly wouldn't live ta see their grandkids! Nowadays, folks live three times as long, an' shit's all mixed up 'bout who does what; fo'evah don' enter inta it. Lookah here! You think Mistah Jason gonna marry you? Why SHOULD he? What's he get he ain't already got?" "Uuuuuhhhh..." Inez thought hard, and her shoulders slumped. "Nothing." " 'Zactly. Dey fill yo' head wit' bullshit 'bout how marriage is 'bout love, but it ain't. Bottom line, marriage be a business partnership; if'n ya don' believe me, take a look at divorce -- dat 'bout money fo' sho'! Mistah Jason OWNS yo' ass -- why would he wanna make yo' a partner?" "Okay, but..." "Ah'm gettin' dere. How mucha yo' sex life las' coupla years been 'bout marriage?" "Uh, none..." Inez blushed. Raoul hadn't gotten anything for at least a year -- and she'd liked it that way. "Den why tie li'l Bianca up by tellin' her she's gotta marry somebody jus' ta git her cooze scratched. Dat be damnall stupid..." "It's the right way..." Inez started to get up a head of steam. "Nah. You KNOW bettah! It's da PERFECT way -- da 'happily evah aftah' way -- an' nowadays, mebbe one person in ten kin make dat work! But yo' church don' settle fo' nuthin' less! What 'bout da rest o' us po' bastids?" Velma challenged Inez, hands on hips. "What 'bout ME? Yo' think Ah'm EVAH goin' ta git MARRIED? Ah'm goin be lucky ta git mah cooze dipped t'ree-fo' mo' times afore Ah'm eighty! Dat be wit'out even sayin' da 'M' word..." "But Bianca..." "Yo' think she stands a chance? She be young, and beautiful -- an' hot. We done talked; girl wants dipped, NOW." Velma eyed Inez. "When was YOU dipped da firs' time? Don' girls in Mexico git married real young? Howcum you figger dat livin' here da rules didn't change but biology has?" "I was pure on my wedding night!" Inez huffed. "An' lookit what DAT got ya! Yo' don' think dat you'da been happier if Mistah Jason popped yo' cherry?" "He wouldn't have," Inez sighed. "Nope. Even if'n he was dere, he wouldn'ta done it. You know why? 'Cause he don' believe in dat 'pig in a poke' shit dat yo' church puts out!" Velma shook her head in disgust. "Yo' know it don' work, firsthand. Why you wann off dat bullshit on Bianca?" "She shouldn't be a slut..." Velma looked carnivorous. "Sluts don' pick an' choose. Bianca ain't a slut -- probly nevah WILL be. But YO' is -- an' YO' got NO DAMN CHOICE, do ya?" Inez blushed almost purple; Wednesday night's activities had proven the truth of THAT accusation. Velma nodded at the confirmation. "See? Mistah Jason tells you ta suck a dick, yo' goin' do it -- period. An' I bet da Boss been in yo' cooze lately, too! DAT's a slut! If'n Bianca picks an' chooses her boyfriends, an' she shows any sense 'bout it, she ain't a slut." "I'm going to go to Hell!" Inez wailed. "Nah. Even YO' church forgives folk. You'll be fine." She stepped forward and took Inez in, thinking to herself that it was amazing that Bianca did so well -- both of her parents were so self-absorbed... Inez shook and sniffled. "It's horrible! I'M horrible!" "It is not!" Velma remonstrated. "Yo' like it an' yo' knows it! Don'tcha?" "Yes," Inez admitted. "I SAID I was horrible!" "Why cain't yo' jus' be happy? If'n Ah was gettin' mah cooze punched as much as yo' do yours, Ah'd be a whistlin' and doin' little dances all over da kitchen!" "And being beaten? Degraded?" Inez argued. "Honey, yo' already decided dat yo' can handle DAT! If'n yo' couldn't, you'da been gone a'ready! Beatin' yo'self up ovah admittin' yo' lahk it be a waste o' time an' energy -- suck it up an' don' worry 'bout it." Inez stepped back. "I'm still concerned. Pete is so much older..." "An' he know what he's doin'. Yo' want her ta lose her cherry ta some fumblin' boy in da back seat of a Volkswagen? Some kid don' know what he's doin' an' fooks it up? Pete's got sense, an' he knows da rules. Looka here -- you'd be doin' her a favor ta get HER ta Doc Beckman fo' some pills, not worryin' when she shows good sense 'bout gettin' her cherry popped by an expert!" "I-I must think on these things," Inez murmured, rubbing her forehead. "Ya got a little while," Velma sighed. "But not long. You oughta talk ta the Wench -- she be educated. Ah DO know DIS, though: Da Catholics been organized a LOOOONG time. An' dey run things ovahseas for centuries. An a bunch o' da shit in dey teachin's don' have nuthin' ta do wit' da original shit Jesus said, and ever'thin' ta do wit' runnin' things. Da rules is strict ta keep ya feelin' guilty -- it keeps ya in line. Den ya tell 'em all yer secrets in dem little booths -- an' dey's got stuff on yo', whether yo' really think 'bout it or not! An' da rules don' apply to dem dat's runnin' things -- take a look at what dey been doin' to altar boys!" Velma scoffed. "You need ta dump dat shit yo' was raised on, 'cause it don' match yo' life, nowheres." "Maybe you're right. But it's a little late..." "Well, don' let it kick yo' in da ass." "Okay." Anything to shut the fat woman up... "Thank you, Velma, for your counsel." "Sho'," Velma wasn't fooled. Inez wasn't going to break her chains based on THIS conversation. But maybe she'd think twice about interfering in Bianca's affairs. 'Affairs... ' Velma liked that term. Was what Ed and she had done an 'affair'? Would it continue to BE one? Good thing peeling potatoes went on automatic; she'd never get it done, otherwise... ------- Meanwhile, Pete was dealing with both sides of the issue of comforting a beautiful woman. Bianca was crying bitterly, venting her grief in loud sobs, soaking the front of Pete's golf shirt with her tears. Pete had no problem with this -- it brought out the protector in him. He cuddled her and rocked her, holding her close in order to provide her comfort. The flip side, though, was that he was holding a double-armload of softly pliant woman. Bianca might only be fourteen, but she was fully developed in a way that Pete's twenty-three year old 'fuck buddy' Amy had never approached. Amy was taller, but somewhat thin and rawboned, with small but pointed breasts that were starting to slide down her chest. Bianca, on the other hand, was a bit shorter, but softly rounded everywhere, her body a collection of sweet, sweeping curves that, while not fat by any means, were womanly in ways that made Amy look -- and feel -- like a stick figure. And right now, a set of grapefruit-sized breasts were pressed to his lower ribcage, and he was rubbing a youthfully muscled back that WASN'T revealing a washboard ribcage to his fingers while a pair of well-fleshed but powerful thighs pulled a puffy prominence against his upper thigh... There were things to be said for thin girls -- Amy was certainly athletic, for instance -- but this... For the umpteenth time in ten minutes, Pete reminded himself that he was providing comfort here, and a boner was out of character -- but his cock wasn't really listening, leaving Pete thankful that Bianca was hugging him a bit off-side... He patted and ran his fingers through Bianca's luxuriously thick, black hair, reflecting that it was just another luxurious difference between Bianca and Amy, whose hair was a good deal thinner and more lank, even though the colors weren't that far off. Pete had discovered that the blonde mystique was utter bullshit early and deliberately avoided them, concentrating on brunettes and redheads -- which led to another contrast. Amy was pale, lightly complected, while Bianca had this golden glow that didn't even rely on the sun... Add the fact that Pete KNEW from the porch incident that Bianca could cum like a freight train and you got a fine case of agony and ecstasy... Bianca gathered herself and stepped back, but Pete didn't react quickly and she ended up shifting and taking a rather solid lump on her left hip before she got clear. Pete managed not to SAY 'Oh, shit!' but the thought reverberated in his brain as he turned away. Bianca's head was still down, so the move profiled him rather than fig leafing him; no, a bulge like that, aligned with his zipper, wasn't a pocketknife or a screwdriver. Well, it MIGHT be a screwdriver, sort of... Bianca's lips managed to quirk a bit as she caught his sidelong glance. "Are you okay now?" he asked. "Much better," she replied. "I hadn't really let that out." Pete nodded, pushing hard to get into the proper innocently supportive frame of mind. "Should I stay?" "Please?" Bianca replied. "You've been... very supportive..." 'Yeah, that's me. Pete Logan, Eagle Scout' "Sure." Bianca went back to digging in the boxes as if the emotional interlude just passed hadn't happened -- except they both knew better. ------- The weekly basketball game kicked off at 4:00 p.m., right on schedule. The home team wasn't any league powerhouse, but Winton High sucked, so the home team was up by twenty at the half, and just held it there, letting the little kids play until Winton closed within ten, then upping the power and pushing them back off. The crowd wasn't huge, and with the end nowhere near being in doubt, it began to thin already during the second period. Rob glanced up to check on Mary and noticed another figure seated next to her. "Hey, who's that? With Mary?" "Dunno. Where?" Ted asked. "Up top. Usual place." Ted looked, grinned. "Ain't Darla Jean..." "Big surprise." Rob had gotten the other side of the story from Mary, and was thoroughly disgusted with Ted. Ted, being Ted, hadn't noticed. Dwayne took a look. It took a second or two, but then the droopy dress triggered him. "Louise Bryant?" "Huh!" Rob grunted. "And she's with Mary, because?" Ted grinned. "Mary's the new lightning rod for Bang Nation, I guess. Wonder who she's here for?" He preened a bit. "I guess it all depends on whether she's into rape or not," Rob replied sourly. Several others on the bench laughed. Dwayne wasn't among them. "Hey, she was hot! She put the rubber on with her own two hands!" Ted protested. "Who'd want to have YOUR bastards?" Rob shot back, pretending good humor. If he needed any confirmation of the truth of Mary's tale, it was there in Dwayne's face. Meanwhile Ted pretended to have been comically stabbed between the shoulder blades. "I'm cut to the quick!" "You will be, if you ever pull THAT stunt again," Dwayne mumbled under his breath. Ted was out posturing and didn't hear, but Rob did, and so did at least two others. Ted had lost a friend and supporter over the incident with Darla Jean, and he didn't have any to spare. Things had changed by the second half; Louise had been replaced by some other chick in sweats. Rob wondered vaguely what was going on; nobody seemed to know who Louise's replacement was. The game ended and the boys hit the showers. Billy Baldwin, who had hit the showers early, stuck his head back in the door and yelled, "There's a few still out there -- including one sitting with Rob's girl." Ted started talking trash immediately, acting as if the mystery girl's target was a foregone conclusion; Dwayne kept his mouth shut. ------- Louise had surprised Mary Eikenberry no end when she settled next to her. "Uh, hi, Louise. Anything I can do for you?" "You're waiting for Rob, right?" Louise returned. "Uh huh." Mary waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, Louise husked, "I heard that Dwayne might be..." 'What?' "Looking?" "Uh, yeah." Louise colored. "Last girl that went looking for Dwayne didn't fare so well..." Mary observed. Louise swallowed. "I heard it wasn't his fault." Mary smiled. "Your source and mine say the same thing. I, uh, didn't picture you putting yourself out on a limb..." "I'm, uh, little shaky, but I have to do SOMETHING." Louise husked. "I... just don't get seen..." Mary eyed her closely. "Well, that's pretty poor packaging." Louise's dress hung like a sack from its tight round neck and cap sleeves past its ungathered waist all the way to her ankles. "You look like Ma Kettle." "Yeah," Louise replied tonelessly. "My mama dresses me funny." Mary sighed. "She sure does! You look better in gym clothes!" "I do?" Louise blinked. "Well, yeah..." Mary shrugged. Louise had a baby pink sweatsuit with purple stripes on the legs that she wore to gym that was probably her closest approach to fashion. "So I should put on sweats?" Louise looked around doubtfully. Actually, there were a bunch of girls in that kind of outfit in the bleachers for the game... "You need to advertise," Mary advised. "What you're wearing says bad things about you. Well, maybe it says you're a good girl, but the implication to a boy is that you're a lost cause." She eyed Louise askance, "ARE you a lost cause?" "I don't think I understand," Louise said carefully. "I think you do," Mary replied. "If you don't, you need to. The fact that you've apparently settled on Dwayne tells me that you probably do." "Ummm, maybe..." Louise hedged. "C'mon, Louise -- it's just us girls here. I'm talking about sex. If it isn't important to you, why are you chasing boys whose reputations say they're good at it?" "Okay, okay!" Louise whined. "I... think it might be important. I don't KNOW, but I think it is." "Well, you dress about as sexy as that basketball goal over there," Mary pointed out. "There are a lot of girls in this school that dress like an ad for Victoria's Secret, but it's all appearance. You're not even in the competition; how do expect boys to notice you?" "I dunno." "Well, that thing you were doing to Randall is a start, I guess, but you need to make it worth their while, or else it's like being chased by a bratty little sister. You need to put some merchandise out on the shelf to be looked at..." "And sweats do that?" Louise asked, confused. Mary pointed out a girl in sweats, headed for the lobby. "What do you see?" "Uh, a girl in sweats?" Mary rolled her eyes. "See the walk? Sweatpants are thin, clingy fabric. They mold themselves to your ass when you walk. If you're walking right -- and I don't know if you know how -- a boy's eyes will get all twisted up watching your ass bounce and wiggle. Sweats are also easy to get into and out of, and they show it if you're not wearing underwear beneath..." "Oh," Louise murmured, watching the departing girl. "OH!" Mary nodded. "In some ways, your butt might as well be naked. And the fact that all they would have to do would be to slide their hand past that loose elastic waistband works on their heads, too. Or the fact that a good tug would snatch them down..." Louise suddenly uncrossed and re-crossed her legs. Eyeing her, Mary asked, "Why did you do that?" "I... got a little wet." Louise's face shaded toward pink. "Uh, my sweats -- well, I wear them to gym. They smell." "Sometimes a boy wants a girl to smell like a girl. You can always put on a little perfume." The look on Louise's face gave her away. "You don't have any?" Mary asked, incredulous. "Well, not here, anyway," Louise admitted. "Where ELSE would you use it?" "Nowhere." Louise rubbed her face. Mary shook her head. "You're a basket case. Let's go down to the girl's lockers during halftime and change your clothes. Maybe I've got something in my locker that will help..." "Really?" "You need help. I can either talk about you, like Claudette, or I can help you. Helping you should be more fun." Mary's eyes drifted back to the game. "Claudette says..." "Claudette says anything that will make her look better than you," Mary replied bitterly, not looking at Louise. "Claudette says I'm a slut. Claudette says that because she couldn't hang onto Rob while giving him the cold shoulder. If sleeping with your boyfriend makes you a slut, then maybe I am -- but it's love, or something close enough that I can't tell the difference -- I didn't just fall into bed with Rob, but we got there, and the benefits are..." Mary paused, staring off into space, "... well worth it." She whirled on Louise, "Look, I don't recommend that you fall into bed with Dwayne on the first date; Darla Jean did, but that was because she just wanted the experience, not Dwayne himself. But you HAVE to give a boy a reason to come back, because there are a lot of distractions out there! A kiss and a cuddle won't hurt you, and you'll whet his appetite if you don't cut his hand off the first time it drifts somewhere it shouldn't. Besides, there are benefits to you..." She settled back. "Dwayne isn't really any too brave, or he'd be doing better -- but he DOES have a reputation, now, and you WILL have competition. You need to decide what you want, and what you're willing to do to get -- and keep -- it." Louise gathered herself. "If he's nice, I want to go..." "... All the way?" Mary supplied, when Louise's voice petered out. "Yeah." "We need to find a way to let him know there IS an 'all the way'," Mary replied. The buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the second period, and Mary paused to ensure that her attention was in the right place when Rob looked up to find her -- boys' egos were SUCH tender things! -- then she turned to Louise and said, "Okay, let's shoot down to the locker room." "You're not kidding?" "Uh uh. Look, you're ahead of the power curve, here -- but if you want Dwayne, you'd better lock him down now, before some other girl trips him and lays down under him! You've heard of Bang Nation?" "Um, yeah," Louise admitted. "The jocks' pool of..." "Sluts?" Mary replied, watching her step as she danced down the bleachers. "I'd be careful how I characterized them, if I were you -- in the main, they're just desperate, like you, and willing to lay it all out to come home with something decent. Point is, you've confirmed my suspicions -- Rob is out of circulation, and Bang Nation is hunting for a new target. Ted THINKS he accomplished something during his little escapade with Darla Jean, and he might collect a couple of really bad girls -- but Dwayne was the big winner, there, and he stands to inherit Bang Nation -- IF you can't pin him to the mat first!" "Okay..." Louise followed Mary as she threaded through the rush headed for the bathrooms, candy and drink machines, or outside for a smoke, bypassing the bathrooms and heading for the locker rooms around the corner. "Do you think I have a shot?" "I don't know. It'd help if you could talk to him." They passed through the restroom portion of the locker room and entered the dressing room area. Louise waved toward the area where her locker was, and Mary continued, "Dwayne isn't that brave; Darla Jean practically had to stick his hands in her panties, I think. She was in a hurry -- but, frankly, you may need to be, too." "That'll be tough," Louise mumbled as she worked at her locker combination. "It'll be even tougher if we can't find a way to advertise you," Mary replied. She waved her hand to get Louise going, getting out of her dress, then stuck her head in the locker. Fishing out the track suit, she grunted, "Is this dirty?" "I wore it today. And Tuesday." Louise was digging for her zipper, her arms behind her head. Mary held the jacket up, checked it for obvious dirt and stains, and smelled the armpits. "Not too bad. We won't have to totally douse you in perfume." She held up the pants; the knees were a little scuffed, but they weren't bad. "Where's the top?" "That white thing." Louise pointed with her nose, still fighting the dress zipper through the middle of her back. Mary fished it out. It was round-necked, cap-sleeved -- basically, a T-shirt, made of a bit more robust fabric. It WAS whiff, though -- and smudged, too. "Hmmmm." Mary turned to the other girl and stopped dead. "Jeez, Louise, what size is that truss you're wearing?" "Ummm, 34A/B..." Louise's heavy white bra was positively crushing her chest, and looked like it was under tremendous tension. "Doesn't that hurt?" "Well, yeah, some," Louise admitted. "You get used to it..." "Why on Earth would you want to?" Mary asked, circling around behind Louise to fight the clasps. "Uuh," Louise grunted relief, but added, "What did you do THAT for? Now I'll have to fight it back on!" "Get out of it," Mary directed. Louise shrugged, using the move to lean forward and peel the cups off her breasts, which seemed to swell and rise before Mary's astonished eyes. Mary shook her head. "You're a 36C -- maybe a D. Why are you crushing the poor things like that?" "Mama says I shouldn't parade around..." Louise began. "Mama's a fool -- and you're an idiot!" Mary interrupted. "In the war of the sexes, those things are assault guns! We uncover those and you won't HAVE to talk to Dwayne -- all you'll have to do is shake your shoulders a little!" She tapped her nose, thinking. "Shit, this changes things -- do you have the shorts that go with these?" She held up the sweats. "In the locker." Louise was trying to figure out whether she was mad or not. "Gym shoes?" Mary pressed. "Yeah, but..." "What?" "Am I gonna change back here? If I have to lug 'em around..." Louise complained. "I have a whole bag full of books to drag." Mary thought about it. She stood back, gazing at Louise's legs. "You do track?" "Field hockey, until last year," Louise replied, looking down. "Why?" "Your legs are kind of defined, muscular." "Is that bad?" Louise turned around and cocked one leg, causing her thigh muscle to flex, along with her calf. "Well, it's a matter of taste, but I'd say no," Mary replied. "I think maybe it's a drawing card. Get the shorts out; I'll be right back." She turned and ran for her locker, leaving Louise, clad only in a pair of no-nonsense cotton panties, digging in her locker. Moments later, she was back, carrying a bundle. Louise picked the shorts up from the bench, having just finished folding that godawful dress. "They're kinda short, and they're loose in the legs..." "They're supposed to be," Mary replied. "Off with the granny panties." "Huh?" "Do you trust me? Just do it." Mary ordered. Louise stepped out of the panties, revealing a thick, furry bush the same exact color as her hair. "Oh, my!" Mary giggled, "Not much effort at control there. What do you wear for a swimsuit?" Louise rolled her eyes, "I'd hate to tell you." "Well, put on the shorts." Louise did as she was told. The shorts were fine while Louise stood up, but Mary suspected that that would change when she sat. "Okay, sit." Louise did so, knees together. "Open 'em up a bit." "Mary!" Louise hissed, embarrassed. Despite -- or maybe because of -- Louise's muscular thighs, when exposed, the crotch of the loose shorts revealed a few wisps of Louise's thick bush -- especially the thin edges the extended into the hollows of her thighs. "It shows!" Mary grinned. "Uh huh. Look, Louise, some guys like their women shaved bare, and some don't. I kind of operate in the middle..." She snatched open the waistband of her shorts, revealing a narrow, neatly trimmed vertical strip of red hair. "And while the gals are just as likely as not to tease you about that jungle, for a guy who is checking you out, a few wispies are an incitement to riot! Trust me!" She tossed a bright yellow blouse at the embarrassed Louise, "Here, put this on." "No bra?" "Nope." Louise reluctantly did as she was told. The top was sleeveless, tight and short and featured a low scoop neck -- and gave Louise yards of cleavage and a couple of inches of dark brown skin between it and her shorts. "It's too small." "Uh uh," Mary disagreed, "Not for our purposes. Not really, at all -- and it looks incredible! Here, put these on..." She handed Louise a pair of pink flip-flops, which the other girl toed into, then said, "Let's go hit the mirror." "Omigod!" Louise was shocked! The yellow top picked up her dark coloration, creating a rich contrast that was admittedly eye-catching. "This is..." "It's a sex bomb, is what it is," Mary chuckled. "We'll hide it some in the stands -- you can wear the sweat jacket and carry the pants for outdoors, later. Okay?" "Oh, Mary, this is GREAT!" Louise enthused, sliding into the jacket. "Just a touch of perfume..." Mary pumped a small sprayer at Louise's neck and cleavage. "Not much! Mama will freak!" Louise screeched. "What's up with your mother?" Mary wondered irritably. "Well, she was kind of a flower child until she got saved..." Louise muttered lamely. "Uh... huh..." Mary replied. "Well, SHE may be saved, but she's KILLING you!" Capping the bottle, she said, "Ready?" "I'm going out in public like this?" Louise asked incredulously. "Oh, yeah," Mary nodded. "If you want that run at Dwayne..." She started to sway out, but stopped to let Louise pass her, lugging her backpack. "Move the ass, Louise!" "You're kidding, right?" But Louise started swaying, anyway. ------- Rob had just stuck his head back out of the locker room when his cell phone rang. "Rob?" "Sweetheart?" "Could you ask Dwayne to stop by? Somebody wants to have a word with him..." "Okay. Who IS that, anyway?" Mary giggled. "It's a surprise!" Ted stuck his head out the door and glanced up. "So who is the mystery chick?" "Dunno." Rob pretended he hadn't asked. Ducking back inside, he strode over and collared Dwayne, "Hey, Man, got your car?" "Yeah." Dwayne looked up, suspicious. "I think maybe Mary's girlfriend might need a ride." "Louise, or the other chick?" "Haven't seen Louise since half-time." "Well," Dwayne grumbled, "I'll think about it. She better not be some skank." He tied his shoe and stood up, slamming his locker door. In the meantime, Ted had started climbing the bleachers. Louise took one look and her face closed down. She zipped the sweatsuit jacket to her neck and draped the pants over her knees, then picked up her backpack and settled it on her lap. By the time Ted got there, she was basically hiding behind it. "Hey, Mary -- Rob's on his way," Ted announced himself. He might as well have opened the door to a deep freeze. "Thank you," Mary said icily. Whoever the other girl was, she wouldn't even look at him. "How about introducing me to your friend?" Ted asked, trying to push through the ice pack. "I might show her your face on a wanted poster, Ted, but you don't introduce friends to perverted rapists." "Whew! THAT'S pretty harsh! What kind of snow job did Darla Jean sell you?" Ted replied. "The truth, I imagine," Mary retorted. "That you invited yourself to an encounter between her and Dwayne, used her and took advantage of her, and generally treated both her and Dwayne like shit!" Ted rolled his eyes. "Nothing could be..." "... More accurate!" Dwayne finished from behind him in a tight voice. "I didn't think you were gonna be a baby about it, Man," Ted complained. "You don't have any friends here, Ted. Please leave," Mary directed. Ted ignored her, giving Dwayne the eye, but moved off. Dwayne turned to maintain eye contact. Mary took the opportunity to prompt Louise to readjust her wardrobe. Rob unwittingly extended things by saying, "I asked Dwayne if he'd be available to give someone a ride." Then his eyes lit on Louise, and surprise transformed his features. Dwayne turned back around, his position on a lower row of seats bringing him eyeball-to-cleavage with Louise. The eyeballs bulged slightly. Wow! What a set! His eyes drifted lower, taking in the brown stripe of Louise's midriff, then her legs. Louise, watching him, let her knees drift apart slightly. The shorts gaped and Dwayne drew in a hissing gasp -- was that fur? Whoever this babe was, she certainly wasn't -- "Louise?" Dwayne finally let his eyeballs drift above her neck, and got the shock of his life! "Hi, Dwayne," Louise managed to get out. "Uh, hi..." Dwayne was re-inventorying. This was Louise? Ho lee shit! Where did those... "I, uh, don't think I ever..." Them things can NOT be real... "... noticed..." "What, Dwayne?" Mary interjected. "I'm sure I don't know what you're babbling about -- do you, Louise?" Louise contrived to shake her shoulders with her head, and Dwayne's eyes tried to track those grapefruit on her chest individually. Thank God there was a nose there in the middle, or his optic nerves would have become entangled. Jeezus! "Uh, this outfit! Yeah!" Louise shrugged. "It's just gym clothes." Poor Dwayne was gonna hurt himself! Louise started grinning from ear to ear. Dwayne settled onto the seat below her. "Well, I'd never seen it, and it looks REAL nice..." 'God, what am I saying?' He started to sweat. Louise leaned forward, putting her elbows on her knees. The position gave Dwayne a drop shot for his eyeballs, straight past her breastbone and on to the inner dark... It also provided her with a fine excuse to maintain a separation between her knees, exposing the crotch of her loose shorts and the wispy indicators that coverage was neither good nor complete. Dwayne wrenched his eyes from Louise's cleavage and dropped them directly into the briar patch. Louise's bright "Why, thank you!" found him thinking 'Jeez, those shorts are loose! I don't think she's wearing any panties! Ooh, Man!' "Uuh, yeah. Nice colors! I never realized you were so..." He looked up to engage her eyes. She sat there, smiling, a bit quizzical, waiting for him to finish. What WAS he going to say? Thirteen things came to mind -- tanned? Furry? Busty? Hot? "Uhh, curvy!" Louise smiled, and Dwayne thanked God that something G-rated had finally surfaced. "So, do you want that ride?" "Uh huh." Louise reached out her hand and Dwayne pulled her to her feet. 'Nice legs, ' he mused. She seemed disinclined to release Dwayne's hand, so he turned to lead her down the bleachers. "Bring me that stuff on Monday!" Mary yelled. Louise shrugged her backpack onto a stable position on her shoulder, smiled, and waved. Rod watched the pair go, bemused. "What happened to her?" "Nothing, really," Mary replied. "She's always been a knockout, I guess. But her mama dresses her in gunnysacks, so boys don't notice. Heck, I didn't. Of course, I'm a girl..." Dwayne's pickup had a bench seat, which surprised Louise -- but it offered an opportunity, so she slid in to the center of the seat and put the backpack against the passenger door. Dwayne got in and mused, 'Huh! Instant girlfriend! Not bad, though, when she's a babe... ' Louise started digging for the seldom-used center seat belt, giving Dwayne an excuse to lean over and 'help', feeling around behind her ass for the buckle end while scoping the valley between her tits over her shoulder as she searched for the tab end to her right. "Here it is..." Dwayne surfaced the buckle, but Louise was still digging, so Dwayne leaned over to help, causing a collision when she backed off after having found it. "Oops!" Reluctantly turning his attention to driving, he pulled up at the parking lot exit. "Which way?" "Left," Louise supplied. "It's really not very far..." "Is there a scenic route?" Dwayne had no urge to whip a couple of blocks down the street and push Louise out for at LEAST three reasons he could think of... "I don't know. We could look..." Louise served up a hesitant smile. 'Oookay!' "Where would we be going, if we were in a hurry?" "Two blocks down and one block over." Dwayne deliberately rolled past the turn. "Right or left?" "Right." Dwayne turned right -- a block late -- but was in no hurry to backtrack. There was a small park three blocks down... "Howcum I never..." "I've been hiding." "Shit, I guess!" Louise giggled and Dwayne realized that he'd said it aloud. "Oops!" He pulled into a parking space, then shifted around to face her more directly. "Is anything... new?" "Huh?" "You know," Dwayne realized that he was in deep. "Plastic surgery, or something?" "Oh! No, I've just been hiding it." Dwayne had allowed his eyes to drift back to her cleavage and was virtually drooling, "That's a shame..." "I guess so." Thirty minutes in a decent blouse had netted her a year's worth of male attention... "I'm gonna get slapped, but... well, they're bigger. I'd have noticed them, and I'm not the only one!" "I've been mashing them down. And I don't wear blouses that open up like this." Louise seemed to be responsive, so... "Why?" "Mama's born again, and pretty strict. She keeps me locked down pretty tight..." "Why me?" Dwayne was thrilled to death to be the first to see the grand unveiling, but... "I hear good things..." Louise looked away, blushing. "I'm sure whatever's going around can't be that good," Dwayne replied. "Ted..." "No girl with any sense listens to Ted!" Louise scoffed. "Well, if you're looking for some guy with lots of polished moves..." Dwayne shrugged and shook his head. "I..." Louise gathered herself. "I heard that you and Ted were night and day when it comes to how you treat a girl." "Well, THAT'S true, at least," Dwayne allowed. "Ummm, despite all this..." Louise took in her appearance with a wave, "I'm not looking for what Darla Jean was." "Okay..." What did THAT mean? The question was clear on his face, and it was up to Louise to answer it. "Ummm, not... Bang Nation... More like Mary and Rob." "Oh." Dwayne sat a moment. "Cool. Darla Jean... rushed me, kinda." He mulled things over a bit. "So you wanna go out on a date, then?" "Uh huh." Louise was beyond her limit for bravery. "Anything in particular?" "Whatever you want to do." "Burger and a movie?" "Okay." "Tomorrow night?" "Okay." Dwayne eyed Louise. Suddenly, she was just... limp. Now that he thought about it, that had always been the vibe he got from his limited exposure to her -- very... submissive. Testing the water, he switched up, "Maybe the afternoon matinee is better..." "Okay." "Look, what's up? Is this a joke? Am I being set up somehow? Is somebody making you do this?" Dwayne demanded. "Oh no! No!" Louise eyed him in shock, began to shake, and then dropped her eyes and sobbed. "Maybe you s-should take me home..." "Not until I get answers!" Dwayne insisted. "Tell me what's going on!" "Okay..." Louise couldn't seem to raise her head. "I'm... not too brave. But I've been pushing things for a couple of days, trying to get myself out there... Mary chipped in, or God knows when you'd have noticed me, but I'm just..." She waved shaking hands in frustration. "The clothes, the teasing... I'm a wreck!" "Clothes?" A sweatsuit? Dwayne scratched his head. "Well, the sweats are mine, but I'd have never thought to wear them outside gym... This top -- I don't own anything like this -- Mary lent it to me, along with the flip-flops... She said I wasn't advertising, and wouldn't get noticed..." Louise sniffled and wiped her nose. "My stuff is... awful. Mama doesn't want me acting like a shameless whore..." "Oh," Dwayne mumbled. He again took in Louise's display. "You jumped right out there, didn't you?" "Uh huh." "For me?" "Uh huh." "Are you wearing a bra?" "No." Louise went digging in the backpack, and surfaced her bra. "This thing wouldn't have gone well under the top..." "Huh. Guess not. Is it bulletproof?" Dwayne found himself grateful he didn't have tits. "It might as well be." Louise was eyeing him sidelong, assessing his mood. "Look, just tell me what you want. I'll go away, or whatever..." Dwayne was silent. One thing was certain; sending her away was a stupid fucking idea! If she wanted to be here, he wanted her. Even if she tucked herself back in those hag rags, Dwayne now knew that there was a babe under there. Besides, it appeared that he had control of things, such as they were... Louise found herself suddenly tight against Dwayne's side, pulled in by a long arm. There was a momentary struggle, brought on by instinctive fear, but Dwayne didn't press and in moments she turned and burrowed into the offered protection. "You went to a lot of work to get here, and I sure don't see any pressing reason to send you away..." Louise couldn't talk -- her throat closed. But she could edge closer... Dwayne collected the forgotten brassiere from her slack hands and eyed it, murmuring, "Given a choice, I'd rather not have to deal with THIS!" He tossed it back atop Louise's backpack. "Okay." Dwayne blinked. "Your mama won't like that." "I'll... think of something." Dwayne was somewhat surprised, but Louise at this point was again wallowing in the pleasure of success; if pleasing Dwayne was all it took to keep him as a boyfriend and keep this kind of contact coming, she would find a way. Mama wasn't going to run her life forever, after all -- who was going to be more important in the future? It was against the background of this thought process that Louise reacted to Dwayne's next request... A thought occurred to Dwayne. "Are you wearing panties?" Those wisps... "No." Louise blushed. "Mary suggested that it might be better if I didn't..." She leaned up and reached for the backpack. "No." Dwayne put a hand to her chest, just below her breasts, and gently pushed her back into the seat. "I don't want to see the panties, I want to SEE!" He dropped his hand onto her left leg and coaxed it open, gesturing with his chin for Louise to mirror the action with her right leg. Louise said nothing; she eyed him in open-mouthed trepidation, but she obeyed, silently praying that he didn't consider her to be just another easy lay after all... Dwayne, mesmerized, slid his right forefinger through the crotch of Louise's loose shorts until the tip stuck out of the left leg, then slowly ran it up and down, savoring the feel of Louise's damp fur on the back of his finger as he slid it up and down along her labia. "This... This, I don't know about. It's a terrible temptation. I don't know how long I could stay out of here, knowing you weren't wearing panties. We'll have to talk about it..." He gathered himself and removed the finger, sniffing it while he met Louise's wild eyes. "Oh, Lordy, that's wonderful..." Louise had gone from transfixed by fear to transfixed by desire! Dwayne's action had been the single most erotic thing ever to happen to her! She somehow got control of her mouth, "Yes, Dwayne. Umm, wonderful?" "Mmmm?" Dwayne had been drowning in her quizzical doe-soft eyes and the flood of her pheromones. "Yes, the smell. It's enough to drive me wild..." He lowered his lips to her neck. "Oooohh, GOD!" Louise was instantly covered in goose-bumps. "Yes!" The next fifteen minutes was torrid, despite the fact that they didn't get beyond second base (okay, Dwayne had already stolen third with his finger, but he backed off and did not return). Louise surrendered her breasts to Dwayne -- through the shirt -- without even so much as token resistance, and considered the benefits to be well worth it, given the sensations Dwayne's fingers provoked in her stiffened nipples. If Dwayne had pressed for bare skin, she'd have done that, too, but he forbore. In fact, Dwayne sensed that if pressed, Louise would have sex with him in the cab of the pickup -- and she'd have come back, after, but she wouldn't have felt good about it. The knowledge that the conquest was possible made it less urgent, though, so Dwayne controlled himself, limiting the encounter to a level somewhat consistent with Louise's goal of acquiring a boyfriend without totally prostituting herself on the first date. After all, he wasn't in a mad rush, either; if he just took her, it would cheapen her, and, frankly, Dwayne just wasn't ready to rush that far again. Louise called an end to the session with, "Dwayne, I-I'm late! The basketball game wasn't planned, and Mama..." "Mama is going to be a problem, isn't she?" Dwayne guessed, withdrawing slowly. "Yes." "How bad?" "I... don't know. Bad, probably." Dwayne started the truck. "Let me guess: She's got this vague vision of you being married and happy, but she's going to get in the way of you dating..." "Uh huh." Glancing up from dead-reckoning his way back toward Louise's house, Dwayne observed, "Well, seeing your bra won't help. Better pack it away." "Yes, Dwayne." Louise started tucking the lingerie back in her backpack. "Louise, I'm not, like, trying to tell you what to do..." "I don't mind." Dwayne glanced over at her. Louise's eyes didn't say, 'I don't mind' -- they said 'Please.' "Oh." How far did this behavior go with her? Ideas for tests of her commitment flickered in the back of his mind -- a very new phenomenon. Did he like this? It was too early to tell. "Are we close?" "The next block. On the right. 4215," Louise directed. Dwayne pulled up out front of a modest ranch. "Okay. Put on your sweatpants, and zip up the jacket." "Yes, Dwayne." Louise got started. "We'll be going to the evening movie tomorrow. Look 'em over and tell me what you think you'd like to see." "Yes, Dwayne." Louise continued kicking her way into her sweatpants. "Try to find something that will look nice -- or that you can make adjustments to that will make it look nice. If you don't have any ideas, ask Mary or somebody." Dwayne thought a moment. "And DON'T wear that truss! If you need a bra, we can at least go out and find something that fits and looks decent!" "Yes, Dwayne." "Gimme a kiss." He took her chin in his hand and drew her to him. She didn't offer a peck, and seemed perfectly happy to follow along any time he raised the ante. Was she really gonna be like this? Long term? It seemed like Heaven, but Dwayne was sure there was a downside. "Okay, I'll call you tomorrow." Louise reached across and opened the door, pushing her backpack before her. "Shit! your phone number!" he exclaimed. Louise finished backing out of the truck, then propped her backpack on the seat while she fished out paper and a pen. Scribbling quickly, she handed it to him, "Here! I'd better get inside..." As it was, if Mama was watching, she was in BIG trouble! Why hadn't she thought of that before? "Awright. Bye, Louise!" Dwayne put the pickup in gear. "Bye!" The pickup pulled away, and Louise turned up the walk, jubilant. That had been... stupendous! Incredible! Now if it would only last... Dwayne pulled away from the curb, his mind heavily occupied with the events of the last couple of hours. Louise Bryant wanted to be his girlfriend, and she was a babe under those awful clothes! Frankly ONE of those pieces of information would have surprised him quite a bit -- BOTH, in combination, were... unbelievable! Then there was this strange deal with her just giving him whatever he wanted... A shark like Ted would eat a girl like Louise alive! Better make sure Ted didn't catch on... In the meantime, just how far would she go? WAS this Bang Nation-type activity? Or something else? Dwayne's understanding of Bang Nation was that the girl approached you to be your girlfriend -- and offered to drop her panties pretty early in the negotiation. Dwayne was virtually certain that he COULD have gotten into Louise's -- but that hadn't been offered, directly, and Louise had insisted that offering sex for the cachet of being 'Dwayne Hansen's Girlfriend' wasn't her intent. There SEEMED to be a subtle difference... Nothing like asking the expert... Dwayne pulled into his own driveway, then took advantage of the privacy offered by the pickup's cab for a phone call. ------- Rob Graham's delighted fondling of Mary Eikenberry's red curls was interrupted by the tinkling of his cell phone. What the fuck? "Shhh!" he admonished Mary, and picked up. Mary merely grinned around his swollen erection. Giving head wasn't something she'd done a lot of, but this had seemed like a good time... "Hello?" Rob grunted. "Hey, Rob, you busy? I've got a question or two..." Rob recognized the voice as Dwayne's. "I'm kinda tied up right now," Rob replied, his voice strained. "Okay, look, if Mary's there, I might need to hear her opinion, too. Can you guys, like, call me back?" Dwayne asked. "Ummm, is this about Louise?" Mary looked up and locked eyes with Rob at this question. "Yeah." "Hang on..." "Lemme start with you," Dwayne forstalled him. "The first question or two, Mary might not like..." Rob had already waved Mary up, sighing. "Well, go ahead, then." He made no move to disinvolve her, holding the phone so that she could hear. "How do girls from Bang Nation approach you? I mean, how clear about it are they?" Dwayne asked. "Well, usually there is kind of a clear offer, if you know what I mean," Rob replied. "Kind of a 'Gee, it'd sure be neat being your girlfriend!' while making some overt move, like showing me a tit. Not always, though. Sometimes they can't get it out and they can't really just push something in my face; sometimes, they have to go for subtlety. Why?" "I'm kinda confused over Louise," Dwayne replied. "We talked, and she said she wasn't trying to do the Bang Nation thing, but then we started making out and she wasn't really guarding shit, if you know what I mean..." Mary held a finger up. Rob nodded and said, "I think Mary has some questions." "Okay." Dwayne found himself wondering if Rob covered his ass or not... "Dwayne, did you guys go all the way?" Mary asked. "No -- but she left me feeling like if I pushed things, I could." Mary bit her lip. "How far did you get?" "We kissed a lot, and I felt her up a little bit through her blouse." "MY blouse," Mary murmured. "Look, Dwayne, I think Louise is on the up and up. But she's shy -- actually, she's meek! This thing she did today to get your attention is probably one of the bravest things she's ever done!" "She said something like that," Dwayne admitted. "Okay, well, if you push her -- especially if you confront her directly -- she'll probably let you do just about anything, because it's the path of least resistance. It's not a case of her deliberately opening doors to get something, though -- it's a case of her fulfilling requests to keep something! She'll do as you ask, justifying it because she believes that if she doesn't, you'll drop her like a hot rock! Do you understand?" "Well, sort of," Dwayne mumbled. "Dwayne, this is different than Bang Nation. Louise would give you what you want because she's not strong enough to say no, not because she thinks she's going to get anything out of it. But if you push her too hard, someday it'll backfire. You'll get what you want today, but one day she'll realize you used her and it'll ruin what you have." Mary paused a moment. "You haven't already screwed things up, have you?" "I... don't think so. I rattled her cage a bit, when she started just agreeing to anything I said. And I pushed things once, over whether she was wearing panties or not." "How did she take it?" "Okay, I think. I didn't press that particular thing afterward, and we made out for a while." "And you felt her up." Mary's voice accused. "Through her blouse!" Dwayne howled defensively. "Who pushed that?" "It... just happened. She seemed fine with it, and I didn't go nuts or anything." "Dwayne," Rob interjected, "There's kind of a thing that marks all of the girls in Bang Nation. They talk about how great it would be to be my girlfriend -- and usually it's sort of loaded toward how popular I am and especially how popular it will make them. It's not about who I am, it's about what I am, you know? Did you get those kind of vibes from Louise?" "No." Dwayne was absolutely positive. "Okay, I got my answer. But, Mary, Louise LIKES to be told what to do! It shows! She WANTS me to run things! What am I supposed to do? Ignore it?" "Well, no," Mary sighed. "Look, all I'm telling you is that you should go slow and not take serious advantage of her right away. Later on, who knows? But you don't want to have a girlfriend who is there but doesn't want to be, do you? I'm just advising you not to make her feel cheap." "Hey, no problem. I'm not in a major rush, anyway. Louise is... nice. But I'm wondering about this meek thing..." Dwayne mused. "She's going to want you to run things, Dwayne. It seems like that's just how she is. Some girls don't want to be the super-independent career woman. The flip side is that you'll have to take a lot less crap from her about her rights as a woman..." Mary chuckled. Dwayne chuckled. "Thanks, guys. I hope I didn't mess you up too much..." "We'll be okay. Later, Man." Rob hung up. Mary grabbed a handful of her hair to control it and bent over, intent on recapturing Rob's cock, but he stopped her. "This is stupid, hanging out in cars. We're going to my place." "Well, okay," Mary replied dubiously, gently jacking him. "It'll be okay." Rob fired up the Jeep, and pointed its nose toward home. ------- Chapter 36: Erin Proves to be a Distraction and Tabitha Goes on "You want to tell me what THAT was all about?" Helene Bryant was standing in the entryway with her hands on her hips. "I went to the basketball game, and got a ride home." Louise said carefully. "From a boy." It wasn't a question. "Yes." "And all that flopping around before you got out?" "I was putting on my sweatpants." Helene's eyes bugged. "You were NAKED in a pickup with a boy?" "No, silly! I had on shorts!" Louise slipped down the waistband to her sweatpants to a point low enough to expose the gym shorts beneath, but not enough to reveal damning details like the fact that there were no panties beneath them. "What were you doing that you suddenly had to put on pants, then?" Helene accused. "It was easier to put them on than to stuff them in my bag. Besides, I was HOPING to avoid THIS!" Louise retorted. "Watch that smart mouth, Young Lady! I saw you kiss him! Do you go around kissing boys, then? How many boys have you been out kissing?" Helene demanded. "One, counting this one. Mama, how am I ever going to meet someone and get married at this rate? What do you expect, lightning to strike?" Louise retorted. "Marriage isn't all it's cracked up to be," Helene grunted. "So you DON'T want me to be married?" "I do, but I want you to find a NICE boy, not someone who cops kisses from you for a ride home and feels you up in your gym clothes!" "Mama!" Louise stamped her foot. "Dwayne IS a nice boy! He's on the basketball team! I like him! And we didn't do anything sordid, for God's sake!" "Watch your mouth!" Helene took a swing at Louise, one which Louise ducked with the ease of long practice. "You'll not take the Lord's name in vain in MY house!" "Yes, Mama." Louise moved to defuse the situation. "Acting like a slut in cars with boys. With a jock, no less! If you get pregnant, you're on the street, you hear me?" "Yes, Mama." "And this boy, Dwayne. If he darkens our door, he'd better keep his hands to himself! I suppose he'll be back -- you've probably promised him sex!" "I DID NOT!" Louise screeched hotly. Helene produced a sarcastic smile. "Then I needn't worry about him coming back, I guess..." Louise opened her mouth to contradict her mother with information on the planned date, but grew sense at the last moment and shut it. Better that she cross THAT bridge later, when the movie outing hopefully wouldn't become connected in her mother's mind with Dwayne... Helene took this as victory and stalked off, glorying in the fact that once again she'd had the last word. ------- "We got trouble, Randall," Teddy announced, hovering over Randall's chess game. "Toby says he's coming." "Shit! HE'S not in the know! And I don't want him to be!" Randall fumed. Technically, Toby Brillsteen was a member of the Astronomy Club, but he only attended when it suited him -- usually when there was entertainment NOT involving astronomy. "Has he sniffed anything?" Teddy shrugged. "I don't think so. But we're attracting girls..." "Yeah." Randall's brain went into overdrive. "We're gonna need a girl to distract him..." "You're the one with hot and cold running women, Man. I'm sharing one." "Yeah." There was an obvious answer, but would it work? "Where's Mary? I could take a run at this, but having a girl around would help..." "She and Stick are goofing off in the parking lot," Teddy replied. "I just got this, or I'd be gone." He flicked his eyes across the room, where Toby was playing another member of the chess club. "Go get her. Stick, too, if necessary." "Okay." Teddy's look said that Randall's tolerance level for Stick was going to have to go up. Randall couldn't figure out why for the life of him, but... Addressing his current opponent, a somewhat nervous freshman, Randall said, "We're going to need to finish this fairly quickly, or I'm going to have to forfeit. Get ready..." Three minutes later, the game was over, and Randall was advising, "You need to use other pieces besides your queen. You've got tunnel vision, and you're missing moves." The trio arrived, and Mary opened up with, "Teddy says there's trouble." Randall nodded. "Yeah, let's go outside." He flicked a glance at Toby. Once in the hall, he amplified, "Toby's invited himself to Astronomy Club. Since we won't be doing much astronomy, and Toby has a big mouth, that's bad. We need a distraction. I have an idea, but I'm not sure I can carry it off..." "Oh?" Mary raised her eyebrows. "Yeah. Tell me if this will work; Erin is probably going to want some more practice on her technique, and Toby is more in her league, anyway..." Mary pondered this, nodded. Toby wasn't really a hothouse brain -- he was a step down, and he had other interests and distractions -- one of which, supposedly un-dealt with, being sex. Toby wasn't a huge guy, either, being a bit taller than Teddy, freckled, with brown hair and eyes. He spent a lot of time pretending to be experienced, but everybody saw right through it. He'd want to exercise a little authority when the time came, to boost his ego a bit; Erin was airheaded enough to be a good choice, as she wouldn't even try to compete if he handled it properly. "What about the physical part? You've had Erin..." Erin had told the world that Randall was good -- but Randall had kept his mouth shut. "And you've seen Toby..." Randall had to think about it, but Teddy didn't. "Six inches or so, a little thicker than Stick, circumcized..." Randall blinked and eyed Teddy with a look that said 'You're looking?' Teddy blushed and shrugged. Mary put a positive face on it, "Good. He ever had any?" "Not that I know of," Randall grunted. He flicked a glance at Teddy, since he seemed to know so much... Teddy shrugged. "Not that I'm aware of. He just talks a lot." Mary eyed Randall. "What makes you think this will work?" Randall shrugged. "Erin makes our... encounter seem like something wonderful, but she needs a lot of work. She likes the feel of a cock, but she needs to have her clit worked on to get off, and she's not any too demonstrative." "Meaning she's a dead lay." Mary grunted. Randall nodded. "She doesn't have to be -- I'm Superman, supposedly, because I managed to find the combination and get her off... She says she CAN move, and she did put it in gear some when she was hitting her peak. She said a couple of things that make me think she thought she was just supposed to lay there, not move, and enjoy it. I think she's going to want to practice her new tricks." He shrugged. "Last, but not least, she's easy, once she sets her mind to it. If we point her at Toby, she'll probably do what we want her to do -- chase him down, right away, and drag him home with her." He sighed. "I'm a little embarrassed, telling tales like this." "I won't spread rumors, Hon, and I needed to know," Mary replied. "Okay, you guys can stay here; I'll handle this. Stick, you can stay here, or you can watch some basketball..." "I don' see me learnin' chess," Stick replied, so Mary crooked a finger for him to follow her as she departed. Randall stood there, watching them depart, then turned a thoughtful glance on Teddy. Teddy sighed. "Maybe I'll explain it all during the true confessions hour tonight. Do you have another scheduled match?" "No." "Let's play, then, while we wait." ------- Erin hadn't messed with the top of the bleachers like Louise and Mary Eikenberry -- it wasn't her style. She was one row back from the bench, scoping buns. Maybe Dwayne, or Bobby... Stick took a seat a ways over, and Mary made shift to wedge herself in beside Erin, drawing a couple of glares from people who got crowded by the insertion. "Hey, Erin. Scoping buns?" "Yeah." "You really want to saddle yourself with a jock?" Mary jumped right off. "Sure, why?" Erin asked, puzzled. "Well, they're big now, but high school basketball don't pay the bills. Besides, fame makes 'em fickle; something better comes along and poof!" Mary shook her head, "I figured after Randall, you'd look at guys with other skills..." "Brains? I can't talk to 'em..." "Look for something a bit lower in the stratosphere, then. Ummm, Toby, for instance..." "Brillsteen?" "Yeah. Toby runs with the hothouse brains, but he's a step or two down the ladder. On the other hand, he's looking, and he's a better all- around long-term prospect. Not that bad looking, either." Theoretically apropos of nothing, Mary changed the subject, "Everybody has Randall's report card, but he's been mum..." Erin colored. "What he did for me was a lot better than what I did for him..." "Oh?" "Uh huh. I, uh, it's embarrassing..." "Tell Mama and she'll help you fix it. Us girls have to stick together!" Mary cajoled. "I'm... kinda dry, and I love having a dick sliding in and out of me, but it's not enough..." Mary nodded sagely. "Need a little clitty work to make it all happen? That's not unusual..." "Really? I thought I was a lesbian or something..." "I doubt it." Mary waited until the roar accompanying a goal settled a bit, and asked, "How is the combination?" "Huh?" "Clit work and a dick?" "OH! Heavenly! Four or five times better than just diddling..." Erin grinned enthusiastically. "I wouldn't worry about girls, then," Mary counseled. "So what happened?" "Well, Randall's HUGE, and I'm kinda dry, so it took a while to get in. Then he got going, and it was wonderful, so I held still... Anyway, it went on FOREVER, and Randall started getting tired and red in the face; I knew he was doing his best, but I was missing something. Then he suggested that I diddle myself a little, and that's when things took off; once my clitty got a little direct action -- and it was a LOT less than usual! -- things started multiplying... I actually STOPPED diddling, but Randall had it all going and I couldn't stop -- I got a BIG one -- STUPENDOUS!" She looked away, embarrassed. "I can't wait to do it again..." "Okay, so what did you learn?" "I'm a dead lay," Erin replied. "Lying still wasn't a good idea. That's probably why nobody ever came back for seconds." Mary shrugged, "That and the fact that you didn't get off... Boys are a lot more vulnerable than you think -- especially about sex! Climbing on and having the girl not even react is a real blow to the ego." "Yeah, I see that. But it FELT good..." "Well, 'it Felt good' is nowhere CLOSE to 'OMIGAWD, I got this HUGE cum!' is it?" Mary chuckled. "Nope," Erin grinned, "Guess not. I was pretty amazed that Randall took me up on my offer -- the jocks just kinda smirk nowadays." Mary nodded. "The word's out in that group, I'd bet. Just another reason to move on. If you catch a guy and give him a good show, it'll make them all look stupid, you know..." She paused a moment. "You're pretty up- front," she murmured gently. "Well, I like it," Erin replied. "I liked it even before Randall showed me the top end! But it got to be a struggle..." "So you got more and more obvious," Mary finished. Erin nodded. "You definitely need to fish in a different pond, Hon. These fish have all seen your lures." "Well, maybe," Erin sighed. "Mom's working this weekend, and I was hoping to try out the new stuff. I guess I'll have to wait until Monday to see if Toby knows all about me or not..." "No need," Mary replied. "He's down the hall in Chess Club, playing with Teddy. Why do you think I'M here?" "KEWL! Let's go!" Erin was up and moving. "Easy! Easy!" Mary panted. The pair were immediately tied up, trying to worm their way out of the bleachers. Once on the floor, Erin made to dash off, but then realized that the heavier girl was still in heavy weather negotiating the benches behind her. Mary cleared the bleachers and Erin spun to take off, but Mary grabbed her arm, "Whoa! He's not going anywhere in the next couple of minutes, and I think you could use some advice!" Erin shrugged. "Okay, but..." "We can talk as we walk." Mary stepped off beside her. "Do you have lube?" "Ummm, no." A light came on in Mary's brain. "Rubbers?" "No." "Are you on the Pill or something?" "No." "Ever hear of pregnancy? You know, babies?" "Well, yeah." "Are you in a rush to experience it?" "Well, no..." "You sure act like it! If you get going and the boy doesn't have any, what are you gonna do?" "Ummmm..." "You're gonna fuck now and worry later, aren't you?" Mary shook her head. So THAT was how airheads reproduced... Maybe Erin was lucky in her sexual response, since once she had kids, she'd probably have to make her living on her back... "That's not smart, Honey. Damn!" "What?" "Well, I'm not carrying. I'm on the Pill, and besides, if I was, it'd be big ones." "Do you REALLY have two boyfriends? How do you handle them both?" Erin asked. "Fortunately, they get along," Mary chuckled. "My advice? 'Don't try this at home!' Besides, there's more of me to love... Will your Mom flip if you ask for the Pill? Tell her your periods hurt or something..." "Huh! They do!" "So much the better... Okay, advice: Birth control wins over romance. He'll understand, and he'll be prepared the second time. Get some lube. If you can't or don't have anything to hand, have him use spit." "Huh?" "Get him to eat you. You've done that, right?" "Uh, no..." "Well, try it! It's great stuff, and it'll get your clit going AND make you wet! Oh, and blow him -- most guys haven't had it in a while, so the first pass could be embarrassingly quick. Swallow the first one -- he'll come back up. If you're doin' it regularly, he might not be as primed, but the first time? Blow him. You'll be doing yourselves both a favor." "Suck his cock?" "Uh huh. It's okay -- you'll like it. And it's kind of a gift. Besides, if he has his tongue in you, it's only fair... Oh, and swallow." They had coasted to a stop. There was a lot of information passing here, and Erin needed to absorb it. "Swallow?" "Yep. Swallow his cum. Swallow his cock if you can -- take it deep and work it with your throat. You know, 'deep throat' it!" "Ummm, I've never..." "He won't mind telling you what he wants. It's another weapon you can bring to bear. Since you're not sure you can hold him with pussy..." "Uh huh." Shit had gotten complicated. But Mary was an expert... "Some girls don't like the taste, but, frankly, boys don't want to hear that. You might be able to negotiate getting him to shoot on your face, after the first couple of times, but remember that a guy's instinct is to shoot IN a girl, whatever hole he uses. He will NOT be thrilled if you spit it out, either! Shooting on your face is another thing, anyway. It kinda says you're a slut and not worth his sperm. It's an ego thing for him, but it says bad things about you, long term, so I recommend that you swallow." "Uh huh. Okay..." Erin was awash. "I wouldn't do it right away, and I DEFINITELY wouldn't do it without lube, but if you get caught short for a rubber, you can always offer him ass..." "WHAT? My asshole?" Erin was shocked. "Yeah, I know -- sounds yucky. And it is, sometimes, if you're not clean. But it's a nice, tight, deep hole for him, and you'd be amazed how it feels if he takes it easy at the start. Best of all, you can't get pregnant there..." "Right." Getting dicked was sure complicated! Erin had always thought it was all pretty simple... "Where were we? Lube. In your case, it's very important! Carry some," Mary eyed her,. "Along with rubbers. Everywhere, if you like dick. If you're hard up for lube, having him eat you will do wonders, but there are other things -- butter, olive oil... Not TOO much, though -- you just want him to be able to get in, not make both of you so super-slick that you can't feel each other..." "Okay." Such a lot of things to think about... "You've already discovered that you need to move. Diddle yourself or get him to do it -- and make noises if it comes naturally. Don't do anything hokey, though -- you don't want to get caught faking it." Mary stepped back. "Ready?" "Umm, I dunno. How am I gonna start this?" Erin worried. Mary recognized the effects of information overload. "Take it easy. Drift in and wander over to him. Get inside his personal space, but make it worth it." "How?" "You KNOW how! Just make it a little less obvious!" Mary shook her head. "I know I saddled you with a bunch of stuff, but this is important! If you want a shot at keeping him, you can't just fork it all over -- make him work for it! He'll appreciate it more, and that will work to your advantage, believe me!" Erin pouted, and Mary insisted, "Nobody says you can't give it up tonight -- just make him think it's because he's a red hot lover, and you couldn't control yourself, that's all..." "Oh, okay!" Erin's enthusiasm level shot up. "Go lean on him, or 'accidentally' rub a tit on his arm -- nothing too obvious -- and see what he does. Even money says he asks you out," Mary advised. "Kewl! Let's go!" Erin hit the door. Mary looked behind her, and Stick, who had been watching through the gym doors, drifted through them headed her way. "All set?" "I hope so," Mary worried. "She's not exactly bright." Mary needn't have worried. Erin drifted into the room and asked, "Hey, what are you guys doing?" Toby couldn't resist sarcasm. "Chess. This is Chess Club. So we, like, play chess, ya know?" Erin homed on him, moving up on his right and murmuring, "Oh, look! Little statues!" She reached out. Toby grabbed her hand. "The statues have different roles, and the positions are important. Don't touch!" Erin stopped, and Toby found himself with Erin's forearm in his grip. Erin shifted left, pressing her left hip to Toby's shoulder and raised the arm until Toby found his forearm against her right breast. "Really? What does the horsey do?" "Umm..." Did this silly girl know what she was doing? "It has a pretty fancy move. Unfortunately, I can't show you right now, because if I move it, I have to use it." "Kewl." Erin dropped the arm, causing Toby to release it, but she braced her left arm on Toby's shoulder. "So which one are you going to move?" "Dunno yet. I have to think about it. Shhh, now!" Toby returned his attention to the game, apparently, but his game deteriorated markedly. Ten minutes later, his opponent announced "Checkmate!" and sat back, thrilled to death at his win. "You lost..." Erin murmured. "Yeah. I had a handicap." Toby eyed Erin sidelong. "Sorry!" Erin stood up. "Are you done, then?" "Yeah." "Well, maybe I can make it up to you. Are you doing anything tonight? Maybe we could do something..." Erin tilted her head, and Mary smiled. Toby blinked. "I think, uh, yeah, maybe..." "Kewl." Erin grinned. "I'll be out front..." "I'll be along in a minute. I have to talk to someone..." Erin nodded and swept out. Toby wandered over to where Randall and Teddy sat watching. "Guess I'm not coming tonight." Randall nodded, chuckling. The shoe was on the other foot... "Got any rubbers?" "Yeah..." The possibility that the rubber that Toby undoubtedly had moldering in his wallet might not be intact was clearly written on his face. "Want some advice?" Randall asked. "You think she's really gonna?" "If you handle things right." "What do YOU know about it?" Toby sneered. "You'd be surprised," Randall replied. "Look, Man, if you get there, diddle her clit and eat her pussy. Drives 'em wild!" Toby rolled his eyes, "The wisdom of the ancients!" Teddy laughed. "If you use that ancient rubber in your wallet, you'll be a daddy! Better find a way to fix that!" "Yeah, whatever." Toby couldn't take any more heat; he got the Hell out of there. ------- "Nora," Nate complained when she met him on the steps, "Mama ain't in the hospital any more. You know where she is?" "Daddy does, I bet. They were talking about moving her -- she wanted it. I'll call." She snatched her cell from her purse, "Daddy?" ""Daughter?" "Where is Nate's Mama?" "Hold on." Armand punched Charlotte up on the intercom. "Get me Witherspoon. I need to know where Tabitha Adams is being sequestered. If possible, I need someone to take her son and my daughter to her." "Yessir." Charlotte got on it. "I don't know, exactly, but I'm finding out," Armand related. "She's at a safe house, so you can be sure she's fine." "Thanks, Daddy -- Nate just wants to visit," Nora replied. Turning to Nate, she relayed, "She's somewhere safe, and she's fine. Daddy's getting the location." "Cool." It wasn't, quite. Nate trusted Mr. Wilson -- sort of. He'd been doing all the right things, but Nate was pretty amazed that he'd bother with all this shit -- even for his daughter! That unease communicated itself to Nora, but she understood. It wasn't as if Daddy had that long of a track record with HER... Three minutes later Charlotte's voice came over the intercom. "They're sending Mr. Matheson. Ten minutes." "Mr. Matheson will arrive in ten minutes," Armand relayed. "If Nate wants, he can leave his car to the security detail to bring here." Nora turned to Nate. "Daddy says they'll be here in ten minutes, and that you can get one of the security people to take your car home." "Awright." The arrangements bothered him somewhat, but again, he had no reason to think that Mr. Wilson was pulling anything. "How?" "Charlotte, have someone in Nate and Nora's detail pick up his car." Armand directed. "Yessir." "Someone will pick up the keys momentarily," Armand amplified. "Anything else?" "Somebody will get the keys," Nora relayed. "No, Daddy, I think we're set." "Goodbye, then." The phone went dead. Moments later, Scott surfaced, seemingly out of nowhere. "I'm playing valet, I guess." "Oh, sorry, Man," Nate mumbled. "No sweat -- I'll hand it off," the big black grinned. "Tell your Mama I said 'Hi'." He collected Nate's keys and strode off, whistling. "Fuckin' scary." Nate shook his head. "I bet if I ran outta toilet paper, somebody would show up and hand me a roll..." Nora shrieked laughter. Matheson arrived several minutes ahead of schedule. "I was close by," he muttered, as he handed the pair into an SUV. "Why all the secrecy?" Nora asked. "We're keeping Tabitha at one of our safe houses," Paul replied. "It's both for her protection and to keep the location secure for the future." Nate grunted. THAT made sense. The worries receded. ------- Ten minutes later, the SUV pulled into the driveway of a nice but nondescript place that Nora figured was ten or twelve blocks from what she was learning to think of as 'Mom's house' or perhaps 'Mom's old house.' The garage door opened and Paul parked the vehicle inside, denying any information about the occupants from prying eyes. "We're pretty clear, since we're being tailed by our own security detachment, but you never know..." Paul muttered. They entered the house at the kitchen -- but the room had clearly been truncated to make room for a monitoring center. Up the stairs and down the hall they went, to a room whose door was already ajar. Tabitha was sitting in a chair, watching TV. She glanced up and nodded at Nate and Nora, then eyed Matheson sidelong, "So, where the fuck YOU been?" Paul froze, pondered a moment, and grunted, "Hiding." Tabitha cocked her head and batted her eyes comically, "From li'l old me?" Paul nodded. "I wouldn't duck a football team with baseball bats, but YOU'RE SCARY!" Nate blinked. "Mama?" "I axed him to help me check an' see if the equipment works," Tabitha amplified. She eyed Paul, sighing. "An' he got all shy. Cute ain't he?" "Ain't it a little early?" Nate asked. "Mebbe," his mother shrugged, "mebbe not. Dunno 'til ya try..." Fact was, with the possible exception of her 'money maker', Tabitha was feeling better than she had in years -- and she was bored to tears... Shrugging, she turned to Nate. "How y'all been?" "Okay," Nate shrugged. "Worked last night. Gettin' fed regular, just like you. Stayin' outta trouble to keep the ol' lady happy..." Nora gasped and swatted him reflexively, and everyone laughed. "What 'bout you?" "Shit this place is the Ritz!" Tabitha grinned. "Got my own cable TV, all the food I can eat, an' it don't hafta be healthy shit. Ain't buzzin', but I ain't really hurtin' either. Shit, I could probly take on a plumber's convention!" Tabitha was still on an IV, but had been told by the medic watching her that it would come out in the morning, and could be disconnected any time. "They're pumpin' me fulla water; I think they're tryin' ta inflate my tits. I gotta pee alla time..." She grinned. "They'd be smarter bringin' me a bicycle pump..." Everybody laughed. "Dunno when I'm gonna get out, though." "Mr. Wilson isn't through with Rodday, but he hasn't decided what to do with him," Paul replied. "If we sent you home, Rodday might be tempted to do something stupid. Besides, you're eating and gaining weight, getting rest, healing..." "An' backin' off on the shit," Tabitha finished, eyeing Paul. "Somehow, they allus manage not ta say that, like I don' know 'bout it or sumpthin'." Switching tracks, she said, "Best thing we can do now ta fuck Rodday is get me seen out in the 'hood. Let the gals know I ain't dead." She scratched her ribs reflectively. "After that, hittin' him in his pocket would hurt worst. I wanted ta ride his tired ass wit' a strap-on, but it'd be better fuckin' him outta some money than it would jus' fuckin' him." She turned to Nora, "How awful bad does your Daddy consider prostitution?" Nora grimaced, shrugged. "I don't know, really. I bet he considers it minor, at worst..." Matheson grinned, "Based upon his lunch conversation with Rodday, the other day, he considers it a business, with a product that fulfills a basic need -- and he considers Rodday to be a poor businessman. From what I heard, he considers ALL pimps to be poor businessmen." "Never seen a good one," Tabitha grunted. "It comes from making servicing a basic human need illegal," Paul opined. "There are places where prostitution is legal -- even taxed by the government. Civilized places. Works just fine. But you make it a criminal activity, and it gets run by criminals..." "Yeh," Tabitha agreed. "Pimps, girls who figure that since it ain't legal in the first place, it's okay to rip off johns, johns that want to get something for free for the same reason..." She eyed Paul sidelong, "Speakin' of basic human needs..." "... You have to pee?" Paul guessed, eyes laughing. Tabitha's look started shifting toward a glare, so he held up his hands. "We'll talk about it after I take the kids home. Handle them first, will you?" "You gonna BE back?" Tabitha wanted to know. "Yeah. I'll come back. I can only stay stupid so long." Paul started shading toward red again. "Awright." Tabitha's head swiveled to regard Nora. "What 'bout you? Dickhead here treatin' you right? He ain't off diddlin' old women again, is he?" "Hey! I didn't..." Nate started hotly, but a smiling Nora quelled him with a hand on his arm. "No, he's been fine," she replied. "Once he understood that what he did wasn't that innocent, everything was cool. Actually, I was the bad one yesterday -- I had to meet the woman." "Bet you thought she was a strange duck," Tabitha guessed... "Well, I guess. Then again, I kind of felt sorry for her. From what she said, she discovered sex at thirty and was trying to catch up," Nora replied. "Goin' at it hard, then, is she?" Tabitha chuckled. "Uh huh. Probably should have started at twelve, but she was waiting for Mr. Right." "Lemme guess -- he ain't showed up YET!" Tabitha hazarded, chuckling. Nora shook her head. "Not that I can see. Her boss is her primary sex partner -- and he's married. She's kind of doing a slave thing, and apparently doesn't care..." "Hon, for a lotta folk, it's git the crumbs ya can. The whole cake just ain't happenin'. Hell, that's how I pay the bills..." Tabitha advised. "Love an' marriage ain't as closely tied as folk will tell ya -- an' sex lotsa times don't fit either." "How are the piercings?" The men might as well not have been there. To a certain extent, both had fulfilled their function. Nate was there; he'd proven his concern for his Mama merely by showing up -- it wasn't as if they talked that much. Paul's situation was a bit more vague, but he was done for now, too. On to girl talk. "Tongue is only sore when I fuck with it," Tabitha replied. "Nips are sore, but it's that healing sore -- the one you wanna pick at. Ain't no infections, or anything. I'm gettin' that antiseptic stuff poured on 'em a couple times a day." "Do you need anything?" "Nuthin' I cain't chase down myself, or ask one of these guys around here ta chase down. Coupla days, it'll be time ta hit the street -- 'til then, I'm good." Tabitha shrugged. The only question in her mind was how in Hell she was gonna pay back Nora's daddy; she had NO ideas about that... "Y'all run along -- enjoy your Friday night. Me an' your Daddy gonna have to have a sit-down talk 'bout all this, but I don't think either one o' us knows what ta say yet -- so I'm gonna sit here on my ass an' watch some TV, an' mebbe see if my equipment all works later. Go on, I'm fine. Hit the door! Thanks fer checking, though, botha ya..." Tabitha started hustling the kids out. "Bye, Mama." Nate kissed his mother's cheek. The two were out the door, and gathering themselves in the hallway when Tabitha's hand closed on Paul Matheson's bicep, "YOU git yer ass back here!" Tabitha hissed quietly, locking eyes with the big man. "You hear?" Paul nodded and moved on, disengaging himself. ------- In the car, Nora asked, "So, you and Draper had some plan?" "Yeh," Nate replied. "He figures if we doubled again, and Tenisha gets grabby, you and I won't freak. I was thinkin' that the drive-in would be nice, but I can't think of a way to get it to pan out..." "What's the problem?" "If we go together, it's seats. My car's tiny, an' if we go in Draper's somebody hasta put up with the center console... Mine has that problem, too, actually." "Oh." Bucket seats got in the way of necking, never mind lovemaking; if the four of them went together, what were they going to do, take turns? Paul interjected, "Nora, why don't you talk to your folks? There is probably another solution lurking in your father's garage..." "What? A limo?" Nate cracked up. "Can't watch the movie through that window between the driver and passengers... Does it have a sunroof? We could all hang out... Mebbe I could borrow Jorge's little hat..." Nora laughed, too, but she didn't share the thought that occurred to her; the limo was wired for sound, and undoubtedly for video, too! They could all go out and have fun, then come home and watch themselves on Daddy's TV... No, that wasn't smart -- kind of funny, but not smart... Paul shrugged. "Mr. Wilson undoubtedly either has or can get other vehicles. I'm betting he has something." Nora glanced at Nate and shrugged. It wouldn't hurt to ask... Nate changed the subject, "So, Mama's messing with you?" "Just my head, thus far," Paul replied. "I really don't know how to handle it." "Never seen her take a shine to a guy like that..." Nate offered. "Maybe she's just payin' up?" "I TOLD her that wasn't necessary, and that in any case, I was only one of several guys on the case. That didn't seem to be the issue..." "Well, it won't hurt nuthin'," Nate shrugged. "Why don't you just give her what she wants?" "Maybe I will..." Paul mused. The remainder of the ride passed pretty much in silence. Paul delivered the young couple to the mansion, waved, and drove off. "I got to talk to Draper soon," Nate grunted. "Do you wanna talk to your Mama first?" "Yeah, let's go find her," Nora agreed. "Daddy, too, probably. I want to know if I can invite them over..." Going to the nearest wall intercom unit, she punched the button. "Yes?" a voice answered. "This is Nora. Is my father home?" "Yes, Miss -- he's in his study." "Can you patch me through?" "One moment, Miss." "Daughter?" Armand's voice came on the line. "Daddy, I need to talk to you about a couple of things -- like having guests." Nora announced. "Come to my study, then -- I'll send for your mother, too." The intercom shut off and the pair set out for the study. On arrival, Armand waved them to the couch while he continued with whatever was occupying him at his desk. Moments later, Sharon walked in, "Yes, Armand?" "Nora apparently requires parental input. I sent for you so that you may also have a voice." Turning to Nora, Armand continued, "Go ahead." "I have, uh, two issues," Nora kicked off. "Nate and I want to go to the drive-in with another couple." Armand glanced at Sharon and shrugged. This was small potatoes... Sharon handled it, "So? Given the current situation, this doesn't seem major..." "Well, there is more to it than that," Nora replied. "Neither of the guy's cars is particularly comfortable for, uh..." "Necking," Nate supplied, flicking his eyes back and forth between his girlfriend's parents. "Both of our cars got buckets. My car wouldn't be too good even in the back..." "Ah," Armand nodded. "Bench seats. My cars tend toward those, too." Turning to Sharon, he asked, "What about your minivan?" "Buckets in front," Sharon replied. "Captain's chairs." "Um, it's got two rows behind, though, Mom," Nora noted. "Yes..." Sharon pondered a moment. "Tell me again why I'm conspiring to allow you and another girl to be felt up?" "MOM!" "Oh, all right," Sharon grinned. "Come see me in my rooms. Jorge will probably have to dig it out, once I get you the key. I don't know if it will really suit your purposes, but I don't guess I'm any too worried. Who are the other couple?" "Draper and Tenisha," Nora replied. "You've met them." "If memory serves," added Armand, "Sex between them would not be a new thing, and her parents are aware of the situation." "Well, yeah," Nora agreed. "And the second issue?" Armand pressed. "What if I want to invite them back here?" Nora asked. "You may use this room, the media room, and other more public areas, such as the kitchen and dining room," Armand replied. "That would be the normal state of affairs. Also the pool and patio. We're private, here -- you can even skinny dip, if you're unconcerned about the staff. If you use the pool, Pete is your best choice for a lifeguard, if he's about, and young Bianca would probably enjoy the company." Armand thought for a moment. "If you require a place for them to sleep, brief your mother and she can have the staff prepare a room near yours. Keep them out of the playroom." "Yes, Daddy." "In the normal course of events, a bit of warning would be all I'd expect. But if they get an eyeful of something, tough..." Armand added. "Yes, Daddy." "Very well, then. Sharon, I leave this to you..." Armand added a wave of dismissal. Out in the hall, Sharon said, "I'll get the keys. Have Jorge meet us at the garage." She held up her hand, stopping their departure. "I think I'd warn Tenisha, at least..." "Okay, Mom. I will," Nora promised. The van turned out to suit their purposes nicely. The front seats could be folded down, allowing both rows of rear seating visual access to the movie through the windshield. Jorge started prepping the vehicle, and Nate got on the phone. "Draper?" "Yeh. Hey, we still goin' out? I gotta tell 'Nisha somethin', ya fuck." "Yeah, yeah -- I got us a ride with bench seats in it so we won't be all fucked up at the movie. Awright?" "Cool." "Well, it ain't -- it's a fuckin' minivan -- but we're lookin' for comfort, here..." Nate grunted. "Why don't y'all come to Nora's, and we'll jump off from there?" "Cool. I know where that is." "Well, no, you don't, Man. Nora and her Momma moved back in with her Daddy last Sunday. You know where the country club is?" Nate went on to give complete directions. "Man, that's a helluva neighborhood up there," Draper grunted. "You ain't seen shit, yet. Don't be surprised at the house -- it's fuckin' HUGE!" "Awright. Movie don't start 'til eight-thirty, so we gonna eat first?" Draper asked. "Sounds good. We can hit Gino's. I'll line it up." "This shit's gonna suck me dry," Draper complained. "I'll shoot you some back -- I'm workin' now." Nate replied. "No shit? Any money in it?" Draper asked. The job market wasn't anything incredible in the 'hood. "Twelve-fifty, plus bennies." "Shit, what d'ya hafta do, kill people?" "Nah. It's cool. Get 'Nisha and I'll tell you about it when you get here." Nate laughed. ------- It was a tad after seven p.m., and Toby found himself high up in the back of a movie theater with Erin McGrath. They'd grabbed burgers, sitting in the fast food joint and eating while Erin alternately prattled on about this and that and asked the odd weird question. Why on Earth would a girl want to know whether he wore boxers or briefs? On the other hand, Erin was (sometimes unintentionally) funny, and she'd been very... approachable -- even doing crazy things like playing footsie, slipping her foot out of her flip-flop and going after his crotch. He'd caught her bare ankle in his hand and tickled her a bit and she'd squealed and gasped and begged... Now he was trying the old, 'cop a feel with a hand casually draped over the back of her seat' gambit. Frankly, he was glad he'd let her pick the flick, because he wasn't watching it. He was wondering how long he needed to wait before going over her shoulder... A couple on-screen waxed romantic, and Erin sighed, settled a bit, and dropped her head on his shoulder, accelerating his timeline by several minutes. Should he back off, or move on? Decisions, decisions... Erin smiled to herself. She was tempted to reach out and start playing with his leg and see what his boner was like, but Mary's admonition to not give up too much for free made sense. But, Jeez, why was he so slow? Toby did the big stretch, and casually draped his hand over Erin's shoulder, then froze, eyeing her to check for reactions. Erin CERTAINLY detected the hand, but she ALSO detected his rigidity -- a sure sign HE knew what he'd done. Well, at least things were clear; Toby was working on it -- he was just nervous that she'd go totally bitchy on him, that's all... Erin reached up and grabbed the offending hand, toying with his fingers idly and intertwining hers -- which fucked him ALL up! Confusion reigned. Was this a good thing, or a bad thing? She'd pretty much deflected him away from her tit, but she wasn't throwing his hand off and raising Hell, either... Should he work across with the other hand, then? Nah -- too obvious... Erin then blew Toby's mind by grabbing his wrist and holding it -- effectively placing his hand over her tit! Jeezus! 'Okay, don't get grabby -- it's right there... ' Mere relaxation would cup his hand over the swelling -- she couldn't blame him for that... Erin smiled gently. Mary was right about the vagaries of protection, and no doubt she was right about playing it cool -- but getting a boy hooked wasn't so difficult... Toby was DEFINITELY hooked -- the fact that he wasn't pushing things despite the opportunities, yet was doing NOTHING but pay attention to his 'seduction' said she could turn this into a steady thing by playing her cards properly. And if Toby was any good, that would be VERY nice... In the meantime, Toby relaxed his hand against the soft cone jutting from her chest, then held still while the rubbery tip stiffened in his palm. ------- On his return, Paul appeared perfectly calm and in control as he braced Tabitha with, "You're right -- you need to get seen. Let's go to someplace in your neighborhood and have dinner." "Awright. Then?" Tabitha eyed him archly. "Then we'll, uh, go to my place and see if we can scratch your itch." "NOW you're talkin', Honey!" Tabitha collected Paul's arm and leered up at him. "Well, not so fast -- we need to get you into some clothes," Paul murmured, adding, "and then we'll need to take some precautions. We're going to ruin a couple of guys' evening around here, but I just can't be, uh..." "... Pokin' pussy?" Tabitha supplied helpfully. "Uh, yeah. I just can't be doing that here..." Paul finished lamely. Fortunately, someone had been thinking, and a female operative had chased Tabitha down some clothing -- not down to her usual slutty standards, but perfectly wearable, nonetheless. The black brassiere was more or less the same -- a push-up model -- but the white satin blouse over it covered a good deal more real estate than usual while still displaying Tabitha's cleavage. The dark skirt was a bit longer that Tabitha habitually sported, and the short stiletto sandals were a good deal lower than Tabitha's habitual four inch 'fuck me' shoes, but as Tabitha noted, "Hell, I ain't goin' ta work, am I?" Panties, however, were something Tabitha was adamant about. "I gotta give the poor thing some air! Gimme some nylons and a garter belt!" At the medic's warnings of possible drainage, Tabitha scoffed, "One o' two colors gonna be runnin' down my leg, Honey -- red or white -- mebbe both! Got any pink stockings?" Even the female operative in charge of acquiring her wardrobe had thrown up her hands at this; Tabitha got her stockings and garter belt, but the color was less daunting than pink. Since the supplied makeup kit didn't include eyelash extensions, sequins, or garish colors, Tabitha looked more publicly presentable than she had in some time as Paul handed her a small device, "This is a tracker," Paul explained. "Both of us will be wearing them, just in case. We'll have a couple of shadows, but they're going to stay out of sight as much as possible. I imagine that down your way, I'm going to be a lightning rod for attention, but we'll just deal with it; getting seen is high on the agenda, anyway." "Where do I put it?" "Ummm, on you, somewhere. Bra strap? Somewhere comfortable and no too visible?" "Gotta idea." Tabitha proceeded to ruck up her skirt and attach the bug to garter belt at the hollow of her right hip. "How's that?" she asked, grinning at having thoroughly embarrassed the big man by exposing her pudenda to him. "Well," Paul cleared his throat, "that works pretty well." "They ain't gonna hafta listen to my stomach rumble, are they?" Tabith inquired. "Ummm, no. It's purely a tracker, not a sound bug. But there IS a panic button, here." Paul demonstrated on his bug. "That'll bring the cavalry, in short order." "Kewl." "Ready?" "Lead on, Big Boy!" Tabitha hugged Paul's arm and batted her eyelashes theatrically. As he escorted her to the SUV, Paul asked, "Why do you do that?" "What?" "Spout all of those clichés?" "Well, I get a kick outta embarrassing the shit outta ya for one thing," Tabitha grinned. "And girls in my line o' work get used to laying it on a little thick." "You're not working." Tabitha was silent a moment. "Rodday don't need ta know that." "That how you want to play it?" Paul asked. "You're chasing johns again already?" "For Rodday, an' for the girls, yeah. Higher class work, if I can pull it off." She eyed Paul as he handed her into the passenger seat, " 'Tween us, though, it's diff'rent. I'm lookin' ta land yo' big hunky ass." "That's subtle." Paul grinned as he closed the door and circled the SUV. "Why still isn't clear." "Dunno, myself," Tabitha replied, matter-of-factly. "If I did, it'd probly be easier on both 'a us." Izzy's Grill wasn't Paul's perfect place; the neighborhood left a lot to be desired. But it was the perfect place for Tabitha to get seen; several colleagues, if not friends, wandered by to say hi and check out whether she was still in one piece or not. Tabitha talked shop, groused about this and that, and even displayed her piercings a couple of times, usually while hinting broadly that the visitor was interfering with her efforts to get the big white john with her to pony up for an all-nighter. In general, the indications that Tabitha was back to work already had their desired effect, undermining Rodday's little ploy; waving the picture of Flood & Company displaying their vegetable butt plugs caused a few envious comments regarding Tabitha's 'insurance' coverage. At one girl's inquiry as to whether it was all over yet, Tabitha replied, "I dunno. Rodday ain't been hurt personal, yet." Paul just sat there and pretended the whole thing was irrelevant to him; when he got the come-on from the competition, he grinned and offered, "She's famous," as an explanation for why Tabitha held his interest. Rodday got the word fairly quickly. "Gotta call from Stretch," Flood grunted. "The Adams bitch is out on the street, workin'." "Already?" Rodday grunted, surprised. "Well, she's hangin' out at Izzy's, talkin' shit, anyway. Got some white cop-lookin' bastid with her. Sez she's puttin' the make on him, but I bet he's the bodyguard." "One white dick?" Rodday wondered aloud. "Wilson's overconfident." He pondered a moment. "Maybe something a bit more traditional is in order. Take a couple of boys, go through the bodyguard, and break her arm, or something. We want her back on the street, but with a long-lasting reminder -- a cast should do it." "Okay, Boss." Flood picked up a couple of his usual support group and headed for Izzy's. He was sloppy, though. Paul had made Stretch, wandered off to the Men's Room and made a phone call. Scott was on site when Flood arrived, 'Thud' Thompson in tow. Scott watched the ambush set up in the parking lot and called Paul, "Flood and a couple of backups are in the parking lot." Paul sipped his coffee, washing down a piece of pretty good apple pie. "Stretch'll probably play, too. That's four on three. Any guns?" "Nope." "Okay, but one of you hang back in case one comes out." "I'll send Thud in to head-bang," Scott agreed. "None too gentle," Paul murmured. "We don't have any cucumbers with us. Time they learned." "Right." "Whazzat?" Tabitha asked, having shut herself of a somewhat shopworn bleached-blonde colleague. "We might get some entertainment," Paul replied. "You gonna eat that pie?" Tabitha cackled. "I see you're all worried." She shoved her plate at him. "Why don'tcha feed me a bite? Heavy on the ice cream." Paul did so, then forked some pie into his own mouth while Tabitha asked, "Anythin' in particular you want me ta do?" "Looks like we might dance a little in the parking lot," Paul murmured dryly. "I suggest that you sit this one out, but not wander too far for me to get a hand on, in case somebody has two left feet." "Awright. I seen a tall skinny gink that looked familiar awhile ago..." "I did, too. He's still around. Don't worry about it, and don't go looking for him, but keep an eye out behind us when the shit starts, and if I don't seem to be paying enough attention, remind me, okay?" "Sure, Baby," Tabitha agreed. "If I was wearin' my 'fuck me' shoes, I could probly take him, but in these..." She extended a leg to examine her open-toed sandals, "I don't think so." "Is that why you wear those awful clunky things?" Paul chuckled. "Because they're lethal weapons?" "Nah," Tabitha replied. "Some damn fool decided they was sexy. Probly a white boy." Her eyes laughed. Paul grinned back. "You about finished with that?" he asked nudging the pie with a fork. "Gimme the ice cream. Y'all can have the pie." Paul forked up a big glob of ice cream and poked it toward her face, deliberately missing a bit, grinning and listening to her squawk while he finished the pie, then made a production of paying the bill so Stretch could get the boys set. He wanted everyone focused on himself and Tabitha, not glancing around bored and detecting the second team. He didn't bother calling Scott; Scott was a pro -- he'd see the others making like hound dogs and know it was time... As they hit the door, Tabitha made to take his arm, and he whispered, "Left side, Darlin'..." "Darlin'! How sweet!" Tabitha simpered and did as she was told as they turned the corner. As they approached the SUV, Flood stepped out from behind and menaced them, attempting to draw Paul's attention as one of his support people charged around the right side of the vehicle. It was a mistake; Paul ignored him, turning to take on the real threat as Thud Thompson appeared behind Flood and promptly broke his right leg with a well- placed kick. Flood screamed, distracting Paul's assailant long enough to throw off the timing of his swing with a tire iron -- but Paul wasn't there, anyway. He stepped back inside as the big hunk of hired muscle passed and tripped him, turning to engage both him and the third assailant, who was trying to close while ducking his companion's sprawl. Paul tossed Tabitha the truck keys. "We'll be along in a sec, Darlin'. Why don't you listen to the stereo or something?" Tabitha caught them and headed for the SUV, prompting a momentary shift of attention in the attackers. By then, Thud had arrived and, surprise lost, the odds were even. Scott, eyes scanning the area for further threats, closed on Flood, kicking his other leg from under him and starting to pat him down, "Hey, Tabitha." "Hey." Tabitha nodded and climbed into the SUV, turning to sit where she could view the action. Meanwhile, the third assailant, suffering somewhat for his hesitation when his partner with the tire iron missed his first pass, was taking a beating while covering his partner's recovery. Mr. Tire Iron got up, confident in his superior weaponry, and took another wild swing at Paul, who sidestepped it and kidney-punched him, jumped back at the wild return swing, and kicked him in the stomach. Mr. Tire Iron bent double obligingly, and Paul clocked him. Assailant Number Three tried to rush in and intervene at the tail end of this, only to be clotheslined by Thud Thompson's left arm. Thud then proceeded to break his jaw while putting him down for the count. Scott looked up at Stretch, who was hovering in the shadows at the corner of the restaurant, and said, "You need to tell Rodday that this was ill-advised." He took out a taser and shocked Flood into unconsciousness. "Oh, and get some medical help for your buddies -- there are a couple of broken bones, here." Paul nodded, and added, "Tell him that if he wants to continue to escalate this, Mr. Wilson is likely to get angry. Ultimately, he won't be pleased with the result. You got that?" Stretch gulped and nodded. Paul got into the truck, and Scott and Thompson faded into the darkness. "C'mere, Baby! You okay?" Tabitha asked as Paul climbed into the SUV. "Scraped knuckles is about it. Nothing to worry about," Paul replied. "Rodday's a damned fool," Tabitha ranted, releasing fear as anger. "I might hafta leave town..." "Or he might," Paul replied. "I had him pegged as a faster learner." He carefully backed the SUV out around the bodies littering the parking lot. "Well, let's go to my place." ------- Chapter 37: Conspiracies and Justifications Armand got the word about twenty minutes later. Putting Witherspoon on speaker, he allowed Jason to listen in to the after action review. "Ms. Adams is all right and properly protected?" "Yes, Sir," Witherspoon replied. "Not a scratch on her." "All right." Armand turned to Jason. "Obviously, since we didn't hand Mr. Pinkham his head on the first pass, the lesson didn't sink in. Any suggestions?" "Perhaps we should visit him at home?" Jason suggested with his characteristic grin. "Only if we can make it look easy," Armand replied. "I want to avoid further escalation. Mr. Pinkham needs to determine that further competition in this area is unhealthy, and should be avoided, not be tempted to take things to the next level. For that matter, his lack of sense says to me that he is unworthy to hold a monopoly on anything in this town, and I think we should put an end to that particular fantasy." Armand frowned. "I really never wanted to go into the entertainment business..." "Perhaps we can farm it out," Jason replied. "Ms. Adams apparently is a pretty savvy character; properly supported, she might be able to carry the ball." "Hmmmm," Armand mused. "Witherspoon, put a penetration team on Rodday. I want to be able to visit his home or his offices without incurring anything in the way of a surprise. Start immediately, as we'll need to follow up quickly." "Will do, Sir. I already have some data from the time we dropped those people off." "Good." Armand closed the call. Eyeing Jason, he said, "We'll need a business model. All I know about these things is what I see in the movies. It appears that Ms. Adams should come to visit." Jason nodded. "And touch our usual contacts -- ask them about their opinion of Rodday. I have the impression that there are some things that he does right; I may want to offer a carrot with my stick." Jason nodded and departed. ------- "Is everybody here?" Randall asked rhetorically. They were at Jimmy Hightower's pool house, gathered here and there in clusters. Jimmy and Randall were working on the entertainment center, preparing to display downloaded probe data on several of Saturn's satellites and associated papers. Danny the Wop and Thelma were presiding over the snacks and drinks. Amy was acting as hostess, largely dealing with Mary and Stick Williams while Teddy tried to figure out where he was supposed to be -- with his mates, or with his colleagues. "Darla Jean..." Jimmy began, but there was a rap on the door, and the lanky redhead diffidently stuck her head through the door. Amy immediately moved to greet her, and Mary moved to support; Stick found himself going with Mary's recommendation that he visit Danny the Wop. Teddy saw him make the move and gratefully shifted his attention to Jimmy and Randall. "Hey, Guys." "Hey, Teddy. The family settled?" Jimmy asked, grinning. "I guess," Teddy replied. "We're kind of an odd bunch." "I haven't figured out what holds you three together," Randall commented, "besides sex..." Teddy shrugged, obviously nervous with the subject matter, but replied, "Each of us has some basic needs that get covered by the others. Sex is big, but it isn't everything." The answer sounded good, but it led to more questions; fortunately, the other two were busy. "Well, Darla Jean should be HERE, so why don't you see if you can wrestle her away from the females?" Randall grunted. "Sure..." Teddy moved out. Meanwhile, the girls were settling in. "I'm not sure why I'm here, exactly," Darla Jean muttered, "but if you guys want me around..." Amy took this: "Randall insists that there BE an Astronomy Club meeting -- he's not much on pretexts. But several -- MOST -- of us were in on last weekend in some way, and Randall feels that there should be some admissions of guilt. You didn't get where you are without help, despite the fact that nobody expected you to be caught up with Ted like that." "You make it seem like a grand conspiracy," Darla Jean argued. "I don't see how that's possible." "I do," Mary replied, "and I was a ringleader. All will become clear, Hon." "Hey," Teddy announced, arriving, "Randall wants to know if you can pack last weekend's observations into a slideshow." "Sure." Darla Jean let herself be dragged off. At least nobody here was treating her like a pariah, even though she gave little credence to the grand conspiracy theory. After all, SHE was the one who opened her legs, wasn't she? The next thirty minutes was absorbing for some, and boring for others. Stick absorbed groceries and engaged in a desultory conversation with Danny -- who was used to coming to these things -- and Thelma and Mary, who weren't. Amy chipped in from time to time while keeping the others in snacks, running back and forth for Jimmy and Randall, and, ultimately, Darla Jean, while Mary serviced Teddy's limited needs. All of the 'hothouse minds' were busy downloading data, hooking up equipment, or preparing presentations. Finally, Randall started getting assessments from the others of where they were and the final prep began. Danny saw it and mumbled, "Awright, they're gonna start the slide show," and ambled toward the conversation nook in front of the entertainment and computing equipment. The others made to follow; Stick and Mary settled on a bed in the center area due largely to the lack of seats. But slides weren't the first thing on the agenda. Randall stood up and began nervously, "Okay, before we get started, some things need to be said. I, uh..." He ground to a halt, trying to figure out how on Earth to continue. "This last week has been a little wild for some of us, and it all started with last Friday's meeting. Darla Jean, you're very welcome as a member of the Astronomy Club, and we're proud to have you, but that wasn't..." Randall tried, but going on was something he didn't have in him. Mary waited a moment and took over, from her position in the back. "It all started with us: Teddy and Stick and I. We wanted to do an overnight at my house, but didn't want Teddy's mother to be suspicious. So Teddy, Randall, and Jimmy arranged a meeting." She met Darla Jean's eye. "I lied to you -- I never meant to be here." "Only I wanted a favor," Randall supplied. "They offered to buy me off with some videos, but everyone was showing up with girlfriends..." "He wanted his pound of flesh," Mary resumed, grinning wryly. "So a few of us got to thinking about it, and your name came up." Darla Jean started looking flustered, but Mary continued, "There were a bunch of issues; we couldn't just fob off any old chick on Randall, because ultimately, he'd have no tolerance for an airhead, even if she WAS getting his dick wet... We had a little inside information on both of you, and it seemed a good match. I knew you weren't the total drone you pretended to be, and Teddy knew that Randall was hung; both of you stood to gain, even though Randall's first reaction was something like, 'Well, she's no Pamela Anderson... '" Darla Jean's eyes swept to Randall, who turned bright red, but Mary chided, "Don't blame HIM -- you were hiding, deliberately, remember? Besides, he bought in, largely due to the fact that you have a brain in your head! Anyway, we negotiated breaking the sex ban at the Astronomy Club to get you a membership -- something ALL the boys resisted, instinctively, since it's where they used to jack off and talk about girls -- and then Nora and I set you up in Health class." At this point, Mary had pinged the guys several times and been deliberately graphic; none of them was in any condition to look Darla Jean in the eye. "So it was all rigged?" Darla Jean was shading to a serious red. "Well, it was, and it wasn't. It was more matchmaking," Mary replied. "We talked to Dina Nellis, who is pretty good at it, and she said that success has to do with providing a little inside information, doing some expectation-setting, and if it's going to work, it does. To be fair, we were angling for the two of you to be an item, not a one-nighter." "Inside info? Expectation setting?" Darla Jean didn't know if she wanted to hear this... "Yeah. We gave Randall a clue that you REALLY wanted sex, but weren't too good at showing it. I told him that you were shy, and not likely to react if he was too subtle; basically, I told him the wall was up, and he needed to go at it and not worry too much unless you had an absolute fit -- that a simple, 'Randall, you shouldn't do that!' in anything less than a loud, carrying voice accompanied by a slap was just you instinctively covering yourself." "You encouraged him to rape me?" "No, not really!" Mary argued. "Randall's a nice boy; if he did something and you did nothing -- or worse, made some minor complaint -- he'd stop, instinctively, run out of guts, and give up. But if you said anything, it'd just be fear protecting your virtue, and you'd be cursing yourself for blowing it, afterward, right? Not today, but last Friday, remember? Before sex?" "Well, yeah..." "Well, Randall isn't exactly the world's most experienced and polished dude, either; he needed to be encouraged to punch through. He needed some idea what was going on in your head or else he'd take some weak shot, you'd bounce him, and both of you would spend the rest of the night kicking yourselves, understand?" "Well, okay..." "Yeah, I know it's a bit of a betrayal, but would you rather have done without?" Mary asked. "On the other hand, it takes two to tango; we let you in on the fact that Randall had TWO oversize heads, not just one -- something you went more or less directly to Thelma to verify, which kinda tipped YOUR hand -- and TA DA!" Mary grinned conspiratorially. "Besides, Randall was always on your short list, wasn't he? And he shot right to the top, didn't he?" Darla Jean just sat there, her mouth working, so Mary turned to Randall, "Has she ever come on to you before?" Randall turned his attention to Darla Jean. "Yeah," he replied. "I never realized it until after we talked last week, but she has. It was so subtle, that I totally overlooked it at the time, but when I started hunting for incidents in my memory, there were a couple of things..." "Oh my God," Darla Jean buried her face in her hands, "You, like, totally outed me!" "I greased the skids," Mary admitted, "but you both could still have avoided the whole thing. But neither of you was inclined to do so, anyway, so..." She shrugged. "Anyway, we engineered the invitation to join the club. Frankly, it was perfect, because you're the girl most likely to be interested, for purely intellectual reasons. It was another case of letting nature take it's course." "So the meeting was a sham?" Darla Jean asked. "Nooo..." Randall fielded this one. "While it is true that we've examined some of those objects before, the techniques were ones we use all the time, and from that standpoint it was a test to see if you could deal with the equipment and the physical discomforts. We've slept in that cave I don't know how many times -- but this is the first time it was co-ed." Amy nodded. "It was MY first time up there, too, and frankly, Jimmy and I deliberately made things hard on you, pushing things in sexual directions as often as possible. We had the ingredients together -- Jimmy and I kept the heat on and kept stirring, prodding you and prodding Randall when he needed it. Thelma and Danny helped, too -- they didn't know it when we came to go down to the bathroom, but they were there to add to things, if possible." Amy fluffed her hair. "And at bedtime, it looked like we'd failed. What happened?" Randall and Darla Jean shared a glance, and Randall said nothing. Darla Jean eyed him a moment and tilted her head. Randall apparently hadn't dragged her through the mud at any point in the last week, and here, in front of a group who knew all about it and was inclined to press her for honesty, he still held his peace about the actual mechanics... "It was all about warmth," she replied. "You two set us up with the naked in the bag thing, but my bag was too thin for the cold. Randall even gave me a blanket, but it wasn't enough. I went up there unprepared -- not enough clothing, and not enough bedding. I went to him to get warm, and we weren't wearing much and..." She shrugged, embarrassed. "Both of us were frustrated, and had been prodded to get brave..." She rubbed her face with both hands. "So, there was a big conspiracy. Why come clean now?" Randall stirred. "I felt bad. We started something, and things went downhill for you from there..." He sighed. "Friday night was about sex, and we used you." Darla Jean produced a wry smile. "Randall, if you'd been listening to Mary closely, you'd have realized that I was a co-conspirator. I wanted to do what we did in the worst way -- I just didn't have the guts. You guys -- all of you -- made it easy, which was something I needed. As for the Dwayne and Ted show, that wasn't your fault, either; I was playing wild thing, shopping around. If it WAS your fault, it was because you made it so good -- something I'm NOT going to complain about!" Mary broke in, "What I can't figure out is why you both went shopping, after. We kinda planned for you two to be a couple..." "It was the approach," Darla Jean replied. "The focus was on sex, for both of us. There wasn't any real attempt to get emotionally committed, although probably both of us would have entertained the idea on the front side. But once we'd had sex -- and NOT made any emotional commitment -- I know I wanted to make comparisons and get experience, so I rushed out to chase down something else..." She mused a moment. "The Ted thing was just bad luck, but I never planned to do anything with Dwayne but have sex, either, and for most people, that says bad things about me..." "You were just acquiring a statistical sample..." Randall offered. "I did, too, for that matter, although it was more a case of somehow accidentally generating a reputation..." "Really?" Darla Jean wondered aloud. "Nobody ever confronted me with you, so I assumed that you didn't say anything..." "He didn't," Mary interjected. "Peggy figured it out from something you said and threw herself at him. But then SHE gave out an after-action review in gym class that said Randall was a love machine and hung like a horse, and a bunch of girls suddenly got thoughtful. If you're thinking clearly, Randall has it all over just about ANY jock; when it turned out that Randall's sex score was a proven, high-end thing, where as most jocks are mere legends and rumors, well..." She shrugged, grinning. "When Erin turned out an even more glowing report -- and Erin's had Robbie, remember..." She locked eyes with Darla Jean. "The REAL surprise was when I talked to both Randall and Erin about the whole incident -- you see, Erin is a real challenge to get off, despite her willingness, and she had a lot to learn to even be worthwhile -- but Randall taught her a few things, got her confident, got her going, and, most of all, got her off..." She shrugged, rolling her eyes. "Turns out he DESERVES the reputation..." "Whoa, whoa!" Randall threw out his hands. "She's had Rob, for God's sake!" "And he failed to get her off," Mary replied, nodding. "This from the horse's mouth, by the way. Erin was one of Rob's first, but it wasn't any too successful, despite the fact that it made his rep and ruined hers. She learned a LOT from your little run-in, and one of the BIG things was how it was SUPPOSED to be. Toby's gonna have his hands full..." "Toby?" Darla Jean blinked. "Uh, yeah," Mary replied. "More shameless manipulation on my part. Despite the odd membership of this group, it's a closed meeting..." She eyed Stick, making her point. "Everybody here was in on last Friday. Toby tried to invite himself to the meeting, and I sicced Erin on him to keep him from coming. Erin was all too happy to oblige; she has that itch you get after having the good stuff..." There were several chuckles. Randall blushed. "I just can't be that great..." "Oh?" Mary raised her eyebrows. "Lessee, thoughtful, considerate, inventive, well-hung. You treat a slut like a lady, and you don't blab it to the world..." "Well, I wasn't any too secretive about having lost my cherry," Randall argued. "Did you name names?" Mary pressed. "No," Randall replied, flatly. "Wouldn't be right." Mary grinned triumphantly, "See?" "That's just..." Randall began. "Chivalry," Mary replied. "And only you guys in the Brain Trust don't realize that chivalry is dead -- which makes you really sweet boys, but makes it even harder for you to get laid." There were chuckles, Amy and Thelma among them. "It's true," Amy piped up. "Jimmy... I'd have never noticed Jimmy on my own -- if it hadn't been for Dina, I'd probably be just another member of Bang Nation right now. Instead, I have Jimmy..." She regarded her boyfriend with starry eyes. "And I have Danny!" Thelma piped up. Danny blushed crimson, an odd thing for the dark, heavily muscled, somewhat ugly boy. Jimmy Hightower shook his head. Objectively, Thelma was no catch -- scrawny, virtually breast-less -- a stick figure with a droopy nose and, until VERY recently, a perpetual scowl and the nasty temper to go with it. But she and Danny, thrown together, had proven to be one Hell of a combination; Danny had proven to be a catalyst, producing a glowing, happy Thelma Version 2.0 who continually surprised those who were used to the original. Danny had come off better, too, but it was perception, rather than an actual change; he'd always been steady, loyal, and generally kind-hearted and thoughtful -- he merely LOOKED forbidding, typecast by his Mafia thug-like appearance. But Thelma's open adoration made these things visible to others besides Jimmy, who had been the only one for a long time to see the true worth of his childhood friend. As a result of Thelma's declaration, there were several chuckles. But Darla Jean had a question. "Mary, you've said that you basically started all of this trying to get an alibi for Teddy. But why did you need one? You've been chasing Teddy off and on FOREVER. And -- forgive me, Stick -- it's nothing personal, but how do you figure in this?" Everyone stopped. There wasn't a person in the room that didn't want the answer to these questions, aside from the principals. Mary, Teddy, and Stick shared a glance, weighing things. Stick sighed and nodded. All of HIS friends knew -- Teddy's deserved the truth, too. Mary sighed. "It's complicated," she began. "Prom night, we kind of stressed our credibility with Teddy's mother, and there had been another evening in between; she's pretty over-protective, and Teddy's social life had taken a sudden serious jump. We needed something 'safe' to tell her..." Mary grinned. "As to Stick..." "That's a little bit more complicated," Teddy took this up, following a deep breath. "You're right about Mary, but it was always kind of half-hearted on her part; I was pretty much a fall-back position for Mary -- something that she knew she could accomplish, if she had to, because, in the end she could always blackmail me." "Well, I kinda had reforming you in mind as a project," Mary interjected. There was a little silence -- everyone was confused. They were supposed to be clarifying things, and at this point, they appeared to be even less clear. Teddy broke the silence, "You see, things are a little more complicated than they appear; until Prom night, I was pretty sure I was gay. I AM bisexual..." "Bisexual?" Randall blinked. "Uh huh. The relationship the three of us have is a little more complicated than it appears; you see, it's not just Stick and I vying for Mary's attention -- we have our own relationship..." "Yeh," Stick grunted. "I guess that kinda makes me bisexual, too..." Silence. Randall and Jimmy started running this through their heads, and actually, the idea that Teddy might be gay wasn't a surprise; it was almost a surprise that he liked girls! Stick, however, was a surprise... But the person who actually broke the silence was Danny. "Nothin' wrong with that..." he murmured defensively. Jimmy and Thelma both turned surprised glances on Danny, who mumbled, "I gotta cousin... We..." Thelma's shocked glance said she felt threatened, but Danny squelched it, "I like girls better. But until Prom night, I didn't know..." Thelma collapsed against Danny, relieved; Jimmy, on the other hand, had to work his way through the shock. Was he homophobic? No, that was a ridiculous prejudice, and besides, the subconscious realization that Teddy might be gay hadn't affected their relationship -- but Danny? How had he never noticed? Danny answered for him. "It never came up. I was kinda afraid you wouldn't like it, and I didn't want to mess up our friendship. Besides, it ain't as if I don't like girls -- it was more a case of until Prom Night, I couldn't get one. With my cousin, it was free and easy and no one was making love noises -- we just got each other off." He looked down at Thelma. "Not that I don't LIKE love noises. I don't think I could make 'em with a guy." Thelma experienced a vivid memory of Danny watching Jimmy pound Amy metronomically on Prom night -- one that took on new implications. "Are you just telling me what I want to hear?" she asked distantly. "No, Baby. I'm telling you what I feel. Does this make a difference? We kinda touched on it before..." Thelma nodded. They HAD, actually, on Prom night. Each of them had more or less admitted that they'd have had sex with their best friend if the situation had arisen. Thelma put it aside. "No. As long as you're not settling for me..." "Huh! No fuckin' way!" Danny cuddled his diminutive girlfriend. Stick was bemused. Why Danny had come to the rescue of himself and Teddy was less than clear, but it had been damn nice of him and kind of de- fused things... Randall came back to the main revelation, addressing Teddy: "So, you guys are... Uh, how long has this been -- how long have you been..." Teddy shrugged. "Girls were pretty scary; I realized a while back that I was a whole lot more comfortable around guys, and that I didn't mind looking at a..." He stopped, blushing profusely. "Dick, Honey?" Mary, always willing to be a bit gauche to keep things moving, supplied the word. Teddy nodded. "Anyway, like I said, I'd started thoroughly believing that I was gay. Mary knew it, and it gave her a lever on me, but I think she was struggling with whether it was right to blackmail me into a relationship or not..." "I went back and forth," Mary admitted. "The other half of me wanted to reform you. Your Mama and your personality were a couple of big strikes against your ever getting a rep as a stud; I didn't think you were getting a fair shake. Little did I know..." She grinned. "Anyway, I was being careful and taking it easy," Teddy continued, "I'd only given a couple of b-blowjobs before Prom night." Suddenly, he couldn't raise his head. "Well, you coulda fooled ME!" Stick exclaimed. "I was drunk an' doin' without an' never had a queer thought before I stuck my dick through that hole -- but the mouth that went to work on it belonged to an absolute pro! I come outta there wantin' a re-match BAD -- an' the fact that the other end of the deal wuz probly a dude jus' didn't fuckin' matter!" Randall and Jimmy had looks on their faces that said, 'Too much information!' but Danny was nodding thoughtfully. Thelma had basically the same look. Amy and Darla Jean were... surprised... but getting questions answered. Mary decided to interject again. "This shouldn't be a surprise. Guys are horny about a hundred and fifteen percent of the time, and a lot of them discover at some point that another guy can offer them relief. Other guys are easier to get, once the barriers are down; girls are worried about long-term commitments and pregnancy -- another guy will take care of the immediate problem and that will be the end of it. Girls do it, too -- except for the ones who have the inclination to get emotionally involved, a friendly lick or a frig at a pajama party is just that -- safe relief. That it feels better to have somebody else's fingers or tongue working on you isn't strange -- sex isn't something you're supposed to have to do to yourself." The guys weren't looking around, they were listening for the piece of Mary's dissertation pointed at them -- but every girl in the place was one shade of red or another. Most of them had been going without until recently, and all of them had spent endless hours talking about the lack -- and a couple of them had engaged in at least limited 'stress relief', even if it was just masturbating while watching another girl do it, too. "The flip side," Stick interjected, "is that guys cain't admit it, mostly, 'cause it takes 'em out of the competition. I dunno how to explain it, but suckin' a dick moves ya 'way down the totem pole." "It's kind of a dominance thing," Darla Jean interjected. "Giving head is submissive behavior." "Uh, yeah," Stick nodded. "Gettin' your dick sucked isn't as bad; I guess 'cause it's a dominance thing -- puts you in charge -- but I guess it makes ya sort of an asshole if you're on top all the time." "That's why a lot of gay activity -- especially among the more dominant types -- is anonymous. You get a little relief from a stranger, and you don't have to give up your position among your friends," Mary added. "Girls have less of a problem with this, because they're not competing, well, for girls, among other things. Unless you're 'way up on top, getting a guy is more about how low you'll go, not how high. It's a seller's market -- you adjust the price to get what you want. Girls can sometimes afford to let their hair down with their friends, since it's usually a shared issue. Girls don't have anything to gain by outing each other, while boys theoretically move up while taking another boy down." Mary smiled. "MY boys walked straight out of their first little run-in directly into my arms -- literally. I took 'em home, lubed 'em with a little beer, and told 'em if they wanted to play, they were safe at my house -- but they had to try out girls, too. Teddy was a little tentative at first, but Prom night turned out to be a big night for cherry picking; I got two, Stick got at least one, and Teddy got at least one, too..." "Anyway," Stick took things up, "turns out both 'a us like girls, but neither of us is prejudiced too much against guys, either. Takes a special woman ta deal wit' that..." He flicked a glance at Mary. "There's some guy shit I'll do, an' there's some I won't -- an' there's some I'll ONLY do wit' Ted, 'cause he deserves it. We got an exclusive thing goin' an' each of us gets stuff outta it that ain't just sex. Ain't like anybody else gotta worry about bein' hit on." There were a couple of unconscious sighs of relief at this. "HEY!" Mary put two fingers in her mouth and whistled. "Both of my men are ALL MAN! When Stick lays pipe, it's about a foot long, and when Teddy does, it's about a foot thick! Neither of them has ANYTHING to worry about in the woman-pleasing department -- I'm one happy camper! The fact that they have a relationship between themselves keeps me from having to choose between them, and that makes life JUST GRAND!" "I ain't no foot long," Stick grunted, embarrassed. "He's every bit as big as Randall, anyway -- maybe Jimmy!" Mary argued. Teddy nodded agreement, which got him some looks, and added, "Obviously, I'm not that thick..." "Okay, okay, I exaggerated!" Mary complained, "But he's seriously filling -- would you try to masturbate with a soda can? Or a fat cucumber? Not one of those English jobs..." Mary made a circle out of the thumb and forefingers of both hands, demonstrating Teddy's surprising girth. "Teddy's hard to handle -- he takes preparation. Fortunately, I have help..." She glanced at Stick. "It's a little easier once Stick paves the way," Teddy amplified in the face of several blank looks. "This thing looks like trouble..." Darla Jean frowned. "It's... messy," Mary admitted. "My Mom is up in arms, but Dad is okay with it. Teddy's mother is gonna flip -- but she would, anyway. Stick's family will probably take it even worse -- right now, we're telling then that Stick is pimping me to Teddy for things like car travel and movie money. Sooner or later, they'll figure it out, but I imagine they'll keep mum about it when they do." She eyed Darla Jean. "THAT'S why it was important to give Teddy a good alibi -- his mother hasn't twigged yet that Teddy isn't alone any more, and we're trying to put it off for a while. Otherwise, the long list of people who won't like what we're doing could ruin a good thing. We want 'em to get used to it -- my Dad to browbeat my Mom into dealing with it, and Stick's folks to figure it out and let it lie -- before Teddy's mother gets wind of things and stirs them all up." "So you want things to stay as they are?" Darla Jean pressed. "The law won't let me do what I WANT to do," Mary sighed. "I WANT to marry 'em BOTH! As it is, though, I'll probably marry one and the other one will move in with us on some pretext, and I'll have a half-dozen kids of various shades..." Randall laughed. "Marry one of them, get pregnant so he establishes paternity, then divorce him and marry the other one. That way he has the excuse of child support and custody... You could swap back and forth a couple of times and tie everything in knots, legally..." "Now THERE's a plan!" Mary exclaimed, laughing. "I might start with Teddy, then -- I thought it was gonna be Stick..." Both boys looked dumbstruck. "Really?" Teddy blurted. "You want to get married?" "You weren't listening?" Mary countered. "You was gonna start with me?" Stick queried. "Well, you're kinda the boss -- I figured that would hold things together better," Mary replied. "Randall's idea might be a better way of dealing with Teddy's mother, though." Mary's voice trailed off -- both boys were looking poleaxed. "Ummmm, maybe I'm getting ahead of myself..." "Huh? Nah. Jus' took me by surprise, is all. I figured, what with your Mama, I'd probably end up on the short end." Stick replied. "I'm kinda... Wow! You'd marry me?" Stick sort of grew, visibly. "Well, I guess there's a lot of stuff in the way, but things are pretty good, don't you think?" Mary replied, shifting her attention to Teddy and getting a bit distraught. "Whoa, whoa!" Teddy was up like a shot, crossing the room to take one of Mary's hands while Stick took the other. "I think we were both surprised that you'd think we're worth it!" He flicked his eyes at Stick, who pressed a kiss on her lips while he rubbed her back. "I know I'd be honored..." Stick drew back. "Shit, me, too! Didn't I get that across?" "My boys..." Mary sighed. "C'mere, Teddy!" She dragged his head down and kissed him, too. "Hey, no groping in public!" The onlookers laughed. "Okay, so, you fed me to the wolves to cover up your relationship..." Darla Jean rejoined. "I'm a wolf?" Randall interjected, clearly unhappy with the connotations. "Well, you're no sheep!" Darla Jean replied, but she was smiling gently. "Look, it wasn't nice, but I guess I forgive you. All of you. As for the thing with Ted and Dwayne, well, it is a separate issue, and while last weekend may have started the chain of events, it's not YOUR fault," she assured Randall. "Okay." Randall looked relieved. "I guess we can move on, then." He started fiddling with the equipment, then looked up. "Um, no hard feelings?" Darla Jean shook her head. "Does that mean that maybe we could, um, date?" Everyone stopped what they were doing. Mary grimaced; it was too soon. Darla Jean would probably cut him off at the ankles... Instead, Darla Jean said, grinning, "I don't know -- can I use you for sex?" "Uh, I was kinda looking at the girlfriend-boyfriend thing," Randall replied nervously. "Well, that's a better offer," Darla Jean admitted. "And it kind of includes the other thing, doesn't it?" Randall shrugged and popped his eyes, embarrassed. "I'll think about it. In the meantime, you're welcome to... make overtures." She eyed him sidelong with a catty smile. "Okay." 'I think, ' Randall thought, frowning. What did 'make overtures' mean? "Why don't we start with the slideshow from last week?" he added, moving on. Darla Jean moved up to the front, swaying, and took over as Randall relinquished things to her. A photo came up on the big screen TV and she began, "This is 61 Cygni..." Randall settled himself next to Jimmy, and hissed, "What does make overtures mean?" "Put the moves on her, Silly," Amy shot back. "Chase her, be nice to her -- stuff you would normally do if you were trying to catch her. Take what she gives you, but don't push too hard for sex, if you want it to last -- it'll come. Try to work on other things." Randall nodded; that made sense. For the next fifteen minutes, he listened attentively to Darla Jean, in particular not waxing caustic when she suggested that the CCD used to capture the images might be off in its representation in certain frequencies. He was particularly happy at not having commented when Darla Jean surfaced comparative spectra from the Web in support of her thesis -- it wouldn't have looked good if he'd jumped her, then been proven wrong... That intro to the politics of getting and keeping a woman stood him in good stead; he remembered that Darla Jean was a solid mathematician and scientist in her own right, and the fact that she was female was sort of a bonus, when viewed in that light (not that such dispassionate consideration was easy, given his first-hand experience with her attributes as a female.) By the time Darla Jean's dissertation was all over, Mary and Amy were showing definite signs of boredom. Since Teddy hadn't been to the meeting wherein the data was collected, he was the primary audience, so Mary and Stick were going to have to hang out. Danny and Stick had discovered some mutual interest and withdrawn to one of the beds against the back wall to sit and discuss whatever it was, with Thelma close by, but giving Danny his space. Mary occupied a swivel chair with Teddy seated on the arm, while Amy sat on the couch, holding hands with Jimmy, who occupied the other chair. Randall had Mary's end of the couch; when Darla Jean finished and Jimmy hopped up to switch to the satellite data, Amy made a point of moving to his chair -- which put Darla Jean on the couch. "Subtle, aren't they?" Randall observed wryly. Darla Jean shrugged; it made life easier for both her and Randall. The past several days had made a couple of things clear to both of them: the set-up of the week before had left them at a disadvantage as far as the creation of a normal relationship went, and frankly, they'd have been better off with each other than any of the subjects of their subsequent experiments. But if Randall was willing after the debacle of mid-week and its effect on her reputation... Randall picked up the thread, "That was pretty good for off the cuff; we're going to have to look at compensating for the CCD. What made you think it was off?" Darla Jean shrugged. "Things seemed a bit too orange. It could have been the monitor, but the spectra said different." "Nice catch." Randall reached out and patted Darla Jean's hand, then settled his hand on hers. Subtle, it wasn't, but... The pair at least pretended to turn their attention to the satellite data. ------- It seemed to Nate that they took twenty minutes settling the van into position at the drive-in. One row was too close; another didn't provide the proper angle no matter what they did. The fact that they were jockeying for the second and third row of seats rather than the first two had them stymied for the longest time. Finally, Nora sat in the middle seat and Tenisha and Draper sat in back, and EVERYBODY discussed position until the van was settled about 5 rows up from the back of the drive-in. When they were finally settled, Tenisha and Draper headed for the snack bar to pick up drinks and popcorn -- and to give Nora time to soothe Nate's ruffled feathers. "Damned van seemed like a good idea at the time," Nate grumbled. "Shhhhh." Nora pulled him in close. "It'll be fine -- we just had to tune things." She laid her lips on Nate's neck and his mood rapidly improved. By the time Draper and Tenisha returned from their twenty-minute sojourn to the concession stand, Nora was giggling and wondering aloud where Nate had grown eight hands... ------- It was early yet, but Toby ands Erin's evening appeared to be nearing a close, despite the fact that neither of them was really seeing it happen. When the movie got out they hit the restrooms in the theater, both taking advantage of the vending machines to ensure that protection was available should things go further, but they hadn't quite made the leap that would bring them to that point. While Toby could (and no doubt would) brag that he'd had Erin's tit in his hand, he hadn't tried to own it, opting rather to put an innocent face on things by only copping a gentle feel that he could cover as accidental contact. Erin appreciated the thought, but she appreciated the contact more; when was Toby gonna stop fooling around and make a move? Reaching across the center console of Toby's car, she dropped a hand on his leg, "It's too early to go home -- why don't we go up to Scenic Drive?" Scenic Drive? Toby blinked. Erin hadn't so much as squeezed his leg, (she was attempting to be coy) but if she wanted to go up there, undoubtedly things were going pretty well. "Sure!" This ought to mean that making out was in the cards -- which had to be an improvement over a goodnight kiss. Maybe he'd get a chance to really work over those titties? Fifteen minutes later, they were parked. The site wasn't any secluded glade -- it was just a pull-off from a four-lane divided highway with a wide, gravel-covered shoulder area and a single trash can -- but there was a decent view down the valley. "Want to get out?" Toby offered. Erin nodded, and got out. It was cooler up here; her thin, sleeveless blouse and culottes didn't defend her against the cool breeze. Toby caught her hugging herself and gathering his courage slipped in behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "I didn't think it'd be cold," he muttered. Erin snuggled back against him. "It isn't, now." She'd figured that they would do some petting in the car, kissing and trying to fondle across the gap in the seats, but this was better. Backing further into the spoon, she picked up the hard length that settled half into the vertical crack below her coccyx and extended half above it. Yeah, this was good; if it had been a little warmer, she might have given him access to her breasts, but she needed those warm hands at her bare midriff... Toby wasn't complaining. The bold move (well, HE thought it bold!) had been accepted, and she'd backed into his hard-on and not thrown a fit. In fact, she hadn't gotten off it. It was seated against her ass like it belonged there... "Toby, do you think I'm easy?" 'What?' Toby all but flinched. "I, uh, hadn't thought about it. Why? Have I done something?" Erin shrugged. "I... tend to go with my feelings, and I've made mistakes, so I have a reputation. So I kinda want to know what you're after..." "Oh." Toby thought about it. Erin had more or less foisted herself on him, but when she'd offered the night out, he'd jumped at it. Why, aside from the fact that she made his dick hard, wasn't clear. But she'd been fun, if kind of weird at times, and she had his attention; nothing about her turned him off -- just the opposite! Was he just trying to get into her pants? He was, that was certain -- but was that all? She seemed such an innocent -- yet she undoubtedly had more experience with sex than he did. Certainly, that made things easier, but... "You okay?" Erin asked. "Huh? Yeah. I'm looking for an honest answer to your question." "I'm pretty uncomplicated," Erin replied. "What's so hard about it?" Actually, this tactic had worked pretty well, simple as it was. Most guys would have just basically lied about it -- told her what she wanted to hear and gone on trying to get into her panties. Only a smart guy would take a simple question and turn it upside down looking for complications. Basically, she already had her answer; if he was just trying to bed her, why examine his motives so closely? "I just sorta realized that I didn't come into tonight with a plan -- it just happened," Toby replied. "If I said you weren't sexy to me, I'd be lying..." Hell, he'd have never followed her out of the Chess Club meeting if THAT had been the case. "I think you're making it hard," Erin replied. "Maybe there's a simple test. If we don't have sex tonight, will you be asking me for another date?" "Oh." Erin was right; Toby's gut gave him an answer instantly. "Yeah." It might have been a lie, but it wasn't, and Erin knew it; the approach was too genuine. She turned in his arms, murmured, "See?" and kissed him. She might as well have hit him with a baseball bat. Her pubic bone ground into the underside of his dick, the points of her nipples dented his chest through his shirt, and he had both hands on her ass -- but it was all background to the feel of her lips on his and the quick flick of her tongue. The temptation to capitalize on the opportunity was instinctive and irresistible; his tongue had chased hers back into her mouth and was pressing the attack before he even thought about it. There ensued an undefined period during which time did things that neither of them noticed. Eventually, Erin broke the kiss, announcing in a bemused tone, "That was nice..." "Yeah." Toby mentally kicked himself for the brilliance of his agreement, but he was a bit dazed. "Ummm, I think that was an even better answer," Erin mused. "Me, too," Toby replied, and initiated a second kiss. This one went on a bit, too, but eventually the pair basically came up for air. "Okay," Erin panted, "I'm gonna stop worrying about it, now." Toby wasn't sure what that meant, but she waded in for kiss number three. After that, counting seemed to be a waste of time. Both were primarily focused on kissing; Toby's hands wandered where they would, and no one -- not even Toby -- seemed to know where they were at any given moment. This went on until they surfaced to discover Toby had a big handful of Erin's left ass cheek UNDER her culottes and panties. "Oops!" Toby exclaimed, blushing. " S'okay," Erin replied. "That's not so awful." "It's not?" "Well, it probably ought to be, but gee! I hate to tie you up worrying about it when I'm enjoying this so much. You're a great kisser!" Toby barely stopped an incredulous, "I am?" before it left his lips, opting for "Yeah, right!" instead. "No, really -- I could do this all night! Except it's cold..." She shivered. "Let's get in the car, then." Toby opened the passenger door and settled Erin in, then circled around and diffidently settled into the driver's seat. Erin wasted no time leaning over and offering her lips, and they were at it again, somewhat impeded by the gap between the bucket seats. The nagging issue tended to shorten their dips into oblivion, but didn't stop them -- and the change in orientation opened up opportunities that their previous clinch had denied them, a situation aptly demonstrated twenty minutes later when Toby surfaced to find his left hand cradling Erin's right breast UNDER her blouse and Erin's left stuffed between his legs squeezing his thigh. "Jeezus!" "Leave it," Erin moaned. "I'm SOOO hot!" Toby couldn't agree more. His cock was an iron bar at its maximum extension -- something just under six inches -- and his balls were reveling in the pressure from the heel of Erin's hand. The nipple he was mauling with his thumb and forefinger was almost as hard as his cock, if quite a bit smaller, the surrounding skin wrinkled tightly to his touch. Man, he wanted to see that thing... "Well, you said not tonight," he croaked. "Uh uh," Erin gasped back, "I asked you if it would make a difference if I told you not tonight -- but I didn't TELL you not tonight..." She watched his expression as he absorbed her reply, then added, "I really don't wanna do it in a car, though..." Toby's expression went from glee to crestfallen in no time flat. "Um, yeah, I can see that." "Maybe you should take me home." Toby sighed, nodded, and started the car. The one upside of the next fifteen minutes was the fact that Erin never removed her hand from his thigh, continuing to squeeze it periodically. "Can you take me back to the school?" didn't go over well, but "My car is there. You can follow me home, after..." painted over it. Still, he expected her to get her head back together on the solo ride from school to her house -- undoubtedly, despite the fact that he now knew where she lived, he could probably expect little more than a goodnight kiss... But Erin carefully directed him to park his car behind hers on the double-wide driveway, and when he joined her on the porch, she said, "Mom's not home -- let's go sit on the couch for a while..." ------- Millicent Graham got home from her social club meeting reasonably early, to find Rob's Jeep in the drive. Given that it was Friday night, that was odd; she expected Rob to be out with either Claudette or one of his sexual conquests... Maybe he was ill? "Robbie is home?" she asked Thurmond as he took her coat. "Yes, Ma'am," Thurmond replied. "Is he all right? It's Friday, after all..." This was what happened when he split with Claudette! Now his social life was suffering! Well, so much the better; he'd take her back in a few days, and all would be well... "He appeared to be fine to me, Ma'am," Thurmond replied. Was there a hesitation there? "Where is he?" "I believe he retired early." "I'd best check on him." Millicent turned for the stairs, leaving the butler grimacing. Well, he'd done everything he could... Millicent marched down the hall, knocked once, and threw open the door to Rob's room. "Robbie, are you..." The light streaming in the door was the only light in the room, but it revealed that Robbie wasn't alone, but rather sleeping in his bed, spooned behind a girl. The girl's eyes popped open, and she mouthed 'Oh, shit!' but nothing came out. "And just WHO are YOU?" Rob popped awake, and realized that he'd come late to the party. "Mother! What are YOU doing here?" "It's Friday, and you weren't out socializing, so I became concerned that you might be ill," Millicent replied. "Little did I suspect that you were involved in other pursuits..." Her voice dripped scorn. "Well, if I HAD been out showing my face, it would have been with Mary, here," Rob replied. "But appearances aren't everything..." "They're too important for you to be seen in public with some strumpet you're using to pad your bed!" Millicent grated. Rob leaned up and turned on the bedside lamp. "Mother. Apologize. NOW!" "Why should I?" The boy was just like his father, only he had less sense -- he could DESTROY his reputation if he spent his time with this... this... Good light caused Millicent's wrath to founder a bit. The girl before her had curly red hair framing a pretty, freckled face with a turned- up nose and green eyes... "In the first place, Claudette's efforts to poison things notwithstanding," Rob announced frigidly, "Mary is a fine PUBLIC alternative to Claudette; the only reason Little Miss Snow Queen Pinkersley is attacking her is because she represents a real threat. And I consider the fact that Mary and I manage to have a private relationship as well as a public one a real plus..." "Oh, really?" Millicent was obviously unconvinced. "Well we've met under poor circumstances, to be sure..." She smiled, a shark's expression. "Perhaps you'd care to dress, Dear, and we can discuss this over coffee?" Rob's lips drifted over Mary's ear. "Stand up to her, or she'll gut you," he whispered. Mary gathered herself. "That would be fine," she replied, apparently blandly. "Although I'm no doubt perfectly presentable for Rob," she continued, throwing off the sheet and sitting up to reveal her potently attractive body, "I don't expose myself in the nude to just anybody." Millicent blinked. "Er, uh, yes. Well, that's good..." She got out of there. My God, the young woman just... "Niiiice!" Rob approved. "Don't back down -- I won't. It won't hurt Mother to realize that you're infinitely superior to her." "I am?" Mary replied, a bit shaky, then laughed. "Well, if I'd gotten up, I'd have spoiled it -- I have about a quart of your juice trying to dribble out..." "You ARE superior to her," Rob argued. "Mother is a showpiece. Dad has his own version of Bang Nation chasing him all the time, and he spends very little time at home -- because Mother is all about looks. I'm beginning to wonder just how I came into the world..." He mused a moment. "YOU, on the other hand, care about ME, instead of whether our relationship makes you look good in public. Once she realizes that you can carry off the public part, she'll back off -- although I don't see her getting really happy about it. You see, she has a poor opinion of sex in general..." He grinned. "The best way to handle things might have been for you to just get up and wander around, blithely unconcerned about the cum running down your leg, while discussing the decor in my room or something. The fact that you can handle both ends would make her seriously envious." "Sounds messy," Mary replied as she hopped up, cupping her mons. "Nonetheless, I'd practice it, if I were you," Rob countered. "The bathroom is through there... I'll bring your stuff." Mary moved off, still cupping, and Rob insisted, "I'm serious. Besides I want to see it." Mary eyed him quizzically for a moment, then turned and stood spraddle-legged, allowing a drip to wander down her left thigh while licking her fingers. "Like this?" she asked, eyes dancing. "Um, that pose is only for me," Rob replied. "I like it, but for Mother you need to treat the mess as the most natural thing in the world..." "Fine." Mary turned and swayed toward the bathroom. "I don't suppose I can shower?" Rob sighed. "I don't think it would be smart to take that long." Mary nodded and the door closed. Rob got out of bed, slid into his shorts, and began collecting Mary's things; fortunately, she'd dressed well for the upcoming confrontation in an outfit that provided a demure display of her charms. Mother would have jumped on a tube top or other casual display. Mary's short-sleeved round neck blouse and knee-length skirt supplemented by a brassiere sturdy enough to be visible set just the right tone; fortunately, the thong was well-hidden... Flat but dressy sandals rounded things out nicely, since Mary was barelegged. Had they NOT happened upon one another in Rob's bedroom, it would have been better, but... Rob tapped on the door and entered, to find Mary on the toilet, dabbing at herself with a washcloth. "Messy?" Mary, who had bridled somewhat at the intrusion, muttered, "Well, you made it." "You'll forgive me for being pleased with myself over it..." Rob grinned. Mary smiled back with a component to her expression that he'd seen before in his mother -- an indulgence of childish male whims. Rob started laying out Mary's clothing on the available surfaces, draping her skirt over the top of the shower stall while she stepped into her thong. "Want some more advice?" "Okay." "This thing in the bedroom is irrelevant. She'll try to embarrass you with it, but if you pass it off and don't let her draw you out, she'll lose a weapon." "Oh, that," Mary replied. "I'm not unpracticed at this sort of thing -- after all, I've been hanging out with Claudette for YEARS!" ------- Meanwhile, Millicent prepared for a little tea and counterfeit civility. Thurmond got a basilisk glare from her, but remained unperturbed; his loyalties were with the male contingent -- Rob and his father Donald. This wasn't the first time he'd run interference for one of them, and it wouldn't be the last. Thurmond's only regret was that he'd failed. Ten minutes later, Rob and Mary appeared in the 'parlor', as Millicent styled it. As Mary entered, Millicent remarked, "My, my. I see that you can be quite presentable; Claudette left quite a different impression." Her eyes dismissed Rob, "This is girl talk, Robbie -- I'm sure you wouldn't be interested." Rob looked inclined to argue, but Mary squeezed his hand and flashed him a quick grin. This would go well, or it wouldn't -- Rob couldn't help, either way. Rob sighed and let it go, but Mary was already concentrating on the foe. "Oh, Claudette!" she murmured gaily. "I hope that you weren't really expecting anything Claudette had to say to be accurate, were you?" She shook her head, affecting mild surprise at Millicent's naiveté, "Claudette will tell you whatever tale makes her look good this week. Her attempts to paper over reality with whatever her current fantasy dictates can be quite fatiguing." "Don't the circumstances of our first meeting a few moments ago tend to lend her credence, Dear?" Millicent replied, pouring tea. Mary's response was thoroughly blasé: "Certainly, having myself introduced to you during our first tryst in Rob's bedroom WAS somewhat unexpected, but well, it would have happened anyway. Besides, it's been two whole weeks since the Prom -- how long do you expect a girl to be able to defend herself against Rob's charms?" "Claudette apparently did, Dear," Millicent smiled toothily. "Hmmm, yes -- and therein lay the seeds of her downfall. Claudette may have been surprised on Prom night, but no one else was; Rob has been interviewing prospective replacements for months! Surely you knew that?" Mary eyed Millicent archly, and Millicent realized that this wasn't going to be a simple 'Run along, Dear, you're not good enough for Robbie, ' conversation. "Really?" Millicent replied, feigning mild interest while stirring milk into her tea. "Milk?" she offered. Mary shook her head politely and went on, "Claudette, unfortunately, believes that appearance is more important than reality. While I would agree that appearances ARE important, I think that it is really best to have a foundation in reality backing them, don't you?" She plopped a sugar cube in her tea. "Claudette's blind spot in this area makes her somewhat one- dimensional -- an advertising poster, nothing more, I'm afraid. Rob has deeper needs, and he spent several months interviewing other girls willing to service them." "I suppose that you mean that succession of trollops he's been bedding," Millicent replied, attempting to get things back on track. "Yes," Mary agreed mildly. "Claudette was aware of them, and had ample opportunity to deal with the problem -- but instead of working on a cure, she treated the symptoms by abusing and intimidating the poor girls. I was in on a few of those sorties before I realized that they were a waste of time." She sipped from her cup. "Oh?" Millicent raised her eyebrows. Mary nodded. "You see, Rob was never going to select one of those girls as Claudette's replacement; they cheapened themselves by offering to handle Rob's physical needs up front in return for the favorable exposure. Rob didn't really understand why, but he was unable to entertain the idea of replacing Claudette with someone without the proper social credentials, no matter how well she dealt with his physical needs." She took another sip. "On the other hand, Claudette was publicly embarrassing him, since too many people had seen through the ruse of their relationship, and she refused to make things genuine by handling his equally important private requirements." She eyed Millicent. "I didn't STEAL Rob from Claudette by offering him sex -- or by any other means. Her shallowness caused him to lose patience and spurn her on his own before I ever appeared on the scene." She shrugged. "Basically, he offered her one last chance to be his woman in private as well as in public, and she declined." "And where were you, all this time?" Millicent asked gently. "Until that moment, I was on the sidelines," Mary replied. "After all, I WAS her friend..." She stirred her tea idly for a moment. "But I was his friend, too, and that is how he approached me in the aftermath. We had several discussions wherein he confided in me and I tried to salvage things for her before the light came on for both of us and we had anything resembling a date." "Two weeks..." Millicent insisted. "Oh, come now! This is ROB! Two HOURS is a long time, once he has you in his sights! Surely you know that!" Mary waved the whole thing off, rolling her eyes. "Besides, what kind of chance would I have of keeping him if I acted like a carbon copy of Claudette?" Millicent smirked. "What makes you think you have him? And how are you going to keep him?" Mary shrugged. "Ultimately, it's up to him -- it always has been. But if I succeed, it will because I meet ALL of his needs, not just part of them." "So you're going to hang onto him by sleeping with him? I fail to see how this distinguishes you from trollops..." Millicent was becoming nasty, largely because she KNEW she was being insulted in Mary's responses -- even though she hadn't yet put her finger on how... "You wouldn't," Rob said, making his presence known. "It's really very simple. Mary isn't just an eye-candy accessory to my social life, and she isn't just a lover -- she's both. And if that wasn't already more than anyone else has brought to the table, she's a friend, too." Millicent shifted her scorn to her son, "And how is all that going to keep you from emulating your father?" "Not having to do without in the presence of my significant other will no doubt play a big role in things," came the smug reply. "You knew Dad wasn't a monk when you married him -- but you treat him like one. I'm amazed that I'm here in the first place -- and even MORE amazed that I'm not visiting one of you on alternate weekends." He took Mary's hand and pulled her to her feet, "Get used to Mary, Mother -- she's going to be around a while. In the meantime, I see no reason to subject her to your insults -- even when she's winning!" With that, he tugged Mary out of his mother's flabbergasted presence. Standing in the hallway outside, though, Rob was somewhat at a loss for the next step. Thurmond appeared, and inquired, "Should I bring the young lady's wrap, Sir -- or have the bed linens in your room freshened?" "What?" Rob blinked. Mary's eyes swiveled to the batman, attempting to ascertain just what he meant by THAT remark. Thurmond beamed at Mary. "Having won the engagement so brilliantly, it is my opinion that withdrawal would be a mistake. If I were the pair of you, I'd go back upstairs and celebrate -- loudly." "Um, well, there is still the issue of Mary's parents," Rob hedged. But a quick call to Mary's sister Anita and she was 'covered' -- something that Rob proceeded to do to her again in the privacy of his room, to their mutual delight. ------- Chapter 38: Tabitha Tests Her Money-Maker Paul Matheson ushered Tabitha Adams through the entry of his four- plex, one of a half-dozen in this apartment block. No one was around; Paul shrugged to himself. It wasn't like this was the first time he'd brought a woman home; on the other hand, it WAS the first time he'd brought home a black woman. They went up the stairs to his second-floor apartment in silence; Paul hadn't been inclined to talk about the run-in in the restaurant parking lot, and Tabitha had been content to rub his arm and shoulder while he dealt with driving, phone conversations, and some thought. Rodday was gonna be pissed, for sure, she figured, and if Paul needed to think to be sure they didn't get caught up in something else, she wasn't going to get in the way. The difference between Paul and his people and Rodday's was really obvious when you watched 'em mix it up; Rodday's people were wild and noisy and tried to scare you, while Paul and his people were quiet and emotionless and just did what needed doing to put an end to things. Tabitha was pretty sure that Flood and his two buddies could have just as easily woken up dead, and that even the broken bones were the results of conscious decisions on the part of Paul and Scott and the guy they called Thud. Tabitha wondered what was next; if Rodday thought about it, things might simmer down, but if he just reacted, there'd be a shit storm, for sure... Paul unlocked the door and let Tabitha in; a glance around said that this place had probably never seen a woman's touch. The toys were out in plain sight, all over the place, and the emphasis was on gym equipment and electronics rather than furniture. No plaques, no pictures, very little bric-a-brac -- everything seemed to be functional. Well, the forty-five inch TV with the cable gear attached to it was a lot better than her nineteen incher with the foil-tipped rabbit ears... "Women don't show up here much, do they, Honey?" Paul shrugged. "When you get to be my age, every woman out there has issues. And it's always the other guy's fault -- until you talk to him, too. I've done my share of divorce work, and it sours you for tales of woe. Usually it's all about some woman trying to get paid for the rest of her life for goods she never delivered in the first place. Or you have to walk on eggs around her because she's ruined; you do or say something, and she flinches and tells you that her first husband -- or her second, or third -- did that..." "But you been married, too, ain't you, Honey?" Tabitha rubbed his arm. Actually, this wasn't a surprise; johns usually go to hookers because their other outlets are poor or nonexistent -- NOT for variety. She'd heard similar a million times... "Yeah. Twice. I got lucky; they weren't in for it for the buck, and we had no kids, either time. First time while I was in the Service -- too much time away killed that -- the second after I started PI work. Basically, it was the same thing -- life was one big stakeout, and she got bored waiting. I didn't have time. Maybe I still don't, but it sure seems like I have plenty, some nights." Tabitha headed for the kitchen. "There any dirty dishes in the sink? Thank fuckin' God! This place is so damned neat -- you'd toss my skinny ass out the window in a week, or strangle me wit' my pantyhose..." she cackled. Paul's place had surface clutter, but was neat and clean beneath. "I ain't a domestic goddess -- I jus' cain't stand drudge work. That's why I do what I do -- I was s'posed ta be a princess an' have servants ta clean up after my ass while I laid on my back an' put out for the king, but there was a screw-up, somewhere. Doin' it for money pays the bills and ain't really work, but I ain't been able ta afford the servant thing. My place is a hole, an' it'd be worse without Nate." "I have a maid," Paul confided. "She comes in twice a week." "Y'all would hafta keep her if I moved in -- an' she'd probly charge more..." Tabitha was grinning, but there was a wistful edge to it. Paul wondered why the woman would throw herself at him and then say things like that... "Something to drink?" Paul asked, guiding her to the couch. "Whatcha got?" "Well, beer, mostly, although I probably have soda, too, and could scare up tea or coffee." "Beer's fine, Honey." "It's Miller." "Good. I hate Bud." Paul headed for the kitchen, and Tabitha, ignoring the offered seat on the couch, followed him. "When you gonna stop runnin' from me, Honey?" Paul cracked the refrigerator and reached in, passing a bottle to Tabitha. With his head still in the door, he replied, "When I figure out what you REALLY want." Tabitha waited until she could engage his eyes, "I wanna know if my moneymaker still works. And I wanna know if it's... pleasant... or it's just there." "Why me?" Paul produced another distraction, looking for a bottle opener. Tabitha twisted hers off and stepped inside his guard, her eyes laughing, " 'Cause you're a project, and I need a project." Putting her hand on his chest, she murmured, "C'mon, quit fuckin' around..." and raised her face to his. Further retreat was just stupid; he'd learn nothing more without entering the trap, so he took the offered lips. They were big, pillowy and incredibly soft, and the tongue that came out to play was frisky, despite the ball piercing. She handled her tools well... But then came the reminder that those WEREN'T her tools -- or at least, they weren't her professional ones. Tabitha stepped back and husked, "You know, hookers don't kiss johns. This is for fun..." Taking his free hand she started pulling him back to the living room, "How busted down is that couch?" "Bad enough that I won't want to finish up there," Paul admitted as she plopped down and pulled him down beside her. "Well, le's cuddle awhile," Tabitha returned, leaning against him. "Feel free -- this ain't a fight," she added, draping his left hand across her shoulders and over a breast. Paul watched, bemused, as Tabitha tipped up her bottle and downed a swallow. He took a big pull from his and sat it on the coffee table. "What's that supposed to mean?" "It means we ain't teenagers an' I ain't arguing with ya over whether we're gonna fuck, Honey. Jus' pretend you own it -- been there before -- an' the only thing you gotta worry about is keepin' me happy about it." She took another pull from her beer, "Jeezus, I gotta give you the play by play?" "Okay," Paul cupped the offered breast. "You have to realize that it's unusual..." "Not for me, Honey," Tabitha countered. "Bein' easy's in my job description." She lifted her chest, pressing into his hand. Paul gave a quick squeeze to the offered breast and moved his hand to the blouse buttons. "Well, you said this was for fun -- you don't want to mess with the thrill of the chase?" "Some other time," Tabitha replied, putting her beer on the table, " 'less you gotta have it..." That done, she used both hands to pull him in for another kiss. Paul got a hand into the open blouse and absently fingered the upper slope of Tabitha's left breast while pursuing the kiss. The bra was a fairly formidable item of the push-up type; only a direct attack was going to defeat it, so Paul swept the hand down to her ribs, which displayed evidence of her thin build. "You need more meat on those bones," he declared as they broke the kiss. "I might break you." "I'm wiry," Tabitha grinned. "You'll find out." She shrugged her way out of the blouse and popped the clasps on her bra, sliding it off, too. "Better? Open up, I wanna play with your joystick." "Is there some kind of hurry?" Paul asked, nevertheless opening his fly and undoing his belt. "We've got all night..." "I wanna see if I can get three by morning," Tabitha replied, nuzzling his neck while she reached into his fly. "First pass might be quick so we can figure out recovery time." Freeing his cock from his boxers turned out to be a fight; Paul was already hard. Paul helped out a bit, then reached across and hefted a breast. Tabitha sighed. Handling man-meat was a familiar activity, and the big paw mauling her breast was gentle. "I gen'rally like my nips fucked with pretty hard, but what with the studs..." She jacked Paul expertly, sizing up his thick six inches. Yeah, it was a nice one -- firm, good-sized without bein' stupid. She was pleased with it -- it would have been embarrassing if the big beefy guy had had a little tiny prick. This one had a nice, fat head and was solid; she'd seen guys Paul's size who had high blood pressure, and the meds left them kinda flexible -- and bigger cocks, usually seen on bruthuhs, tended to the same thing. Apparently, it was all about blood supply... She shifted her attention back to the pleasant cradling of her left tit, "Maul 'em a little, le's see how they do, Honey." Paul shifted his primary attention from the area around the nipple to the nub itself, approaching it from above and below to avoid directly messing with the inserted studs, and started tugging and twisting, gently. Tabitha groaned, and he stopped, instantly, but she murmured, "S'okay. It hurts kinda good -- that itchy sore healing kinda thing. Actually, it ain't any different than what I'm used to -- jus' easier to get. Use ta have to bear down pretty hard..." "Maybe they'll be more fun, then..." Paul stifled a gasp. Tabitha's hand, more or less on autopilot, was providing an incredible hand-job. "Hey, look, you're 'way too good at that..." "Huh? Oh!" Tabitha stopped pumping and squeezed Paul's cock at the base in order to help him maintain control. "Better?" "Yeah." Well, it was a matter of opinion, when you consider that the stimulation had backed off, but he apparently needed to save that cum for somewhere a bit less anonymous. Tabitha sat a moment and grunted, "You know, Honey, this couch shit is for the birds. Le's go to bed." "Okay." Paul stifled embarrassment at having to get up on loosened pants with his erect cock sticking out before him and got up to follow Tabitha. "Through there," he directed, pointing, "On the left." Tabitha followed Paul's directions while divesting herself of her skirt, which left her standing in the middle of the bedroom in nylons, a garter belt and her shoes, which she kicked off as soon as she stopped. "Want these things?" she asked, indicating the stockings. "I've never messed with them; they'd probably be a distraction," Paul replied. "Fine. You be right, of course. We get goin', it'll jus' tear 'em up." Tabitha plopped at the foot of the unmade bed and began removing them. Glancing up, she added, "Why don't you get outta that stuff?" Since he was holding his pants up, Paul dropped them, toeing out of his shoes as he kicked clear. It wasn't an exercise in speed; Paul was still wondering why they were approaching this so matter-of-factly, and was taking his time. No, it was purely convenience. He went ahead and got out of his shirt, leaving his boxers; Paul tended to wear underwear for the occasion -- briefs for work, boxers more for decoration. Realizing that he might end up in a variant of this situation had driven the selection of boxers tonight, and they had already been convenient, but one look said they weren't important to his 'date'. The unmade bed hadn't fazed her, either; Paul hadn't thought to straighten the mess there, and was embarrassed about it, but Tabitha just hitched herself up from the foot until she was comfortably draped with her feet on the floor and crooked a finger, smiling seductively. "Is this where you take advantage of me?" Paul asked, grinning. "Somethin' like that," Tabitha agreed. "Why don'tcha take a look around?" She lifted and spread her knees in a pose best suited to a gynecological exam -- or heavy sex. Paul stepped up and ran his hands down her inner thighs, then up along her sides, ignoring her kinky pubes and the territory beneath for the moment. With Tabitha basically on her back, her tits didn't look so floppy, but Paul wasn't that concerned; they FELT fine, and cradled well in his hands, which was what counted. Tabitha was the ebony side of chocolate -- semi- or even bittersweet -- and Paul had never had a black woman. She was painfully thin, to the point of being wasted -- some of which was due to her basic body type, and some of which was her lifestyle. Her ribs were prominent, not buffered by fat, and her belly was tight, sunken, and ridged with muscle visible from holding her upper torso and head up to watch him. Oddly, Paul found this sexy; very few of his female partners had ever approached being fit -- in recent years, he'd become used to having to work around substantial bellies and a certain lack of flexibility in his sex partners. And while Tabitha did still appear to be a bit wasted, she didn't appear frail; she'd described herself as 'wiry', and Paul agreed with the assessment. Tabitha found herself wondering if Paul was just going to plug himself into her without even removing his boxers -- the move to caress her sides had taken her by surprise, and brought him in VERY close. She thought about holding him up and getting a couple of fingers before just taking in his pecker, but she'd been driving all night -- it was his turn. Objectively, she had no idea why she was here with him instead of, say, Scott -- something about this big bastard set her off, though. Maybe it was the muscular thickness of him; he was big, husky, without being fat. Maybe it was the brush-cut and his washed-out blue eyes, or that ridiculous moustache. Or maybe it was his air of competence; he moved through the jungle, aware of the predators, and well able to take care of himself -- and her, for that matter. He had a little, light-colored body hair, but not anything bushy -- just a patch on his chest, rings around his nipples, and a trail that disappeared into his boxers, which was the only thing either of them was wearing at this point. Tabitha couldn't put a finger on it, but he made her pussy itch to look at him; even that morning in the hospital, when she was in no shape to be touched anywhere, he'd caused her to be flustered -- something which had allowed him to overcome her natural reticence and get her signature on the release for the cops. Since then, she'd chased him shamelessly, using come-ons out of habit despite the fact that they embarrassed them both; while she really didn't want to treat him like a john, she just couldn't come up with any alternate method of getting his attention. God knew it'd been FOREVER since she'd been in a relationship where sticking it out there and being blatantly obvious hadn't been a winning tactic... Paul was different, though. He was about as suspicious as they come, and there was no obvious damned reason for her to like him, so things hadn't been smooth and easy at all... Tabitha knew that the best thing she could do right now was keep her mouth shut and let him play. If it worked, it worked; if it didn't, talking would fuck it up for sure. Besides, his hands felt good... She sighed a bit, relaxing. Paul had no idea what he was accomplishing -- after all, it was Tabitha's profession to make it look like he was some kind of sex god. How in the Hell was he gonna know the difference? He shrugged and passed his hands down her flanks again, not because it might please her, but because it pleased him -- God knew whether she'd tell him the truth if he asked her if it pleased her... Paul was more than a little bit intimidated -- all he could do was his best... Her splayed position kept him from working her ass, so he brought his hands up drawing them along the outside of her thighs from her waist to her bent knees, then back down along the outside of her calves. Sensing approval, he let his palms cross the tops of her feet and working them up the insides of her calves and back down her inner thighs. Switching to the backs of his hands, he let them drift up and down her inner thighs while he took stock. Paul was pleased with Tabitha's body, on the whole; her feet were narrow and well-formed, rather than the flat puddles at the end of the leg so often seen on blacks. Thin as she was, she didn't approximate the rail- thin stereotype seen regularly -- obviously, at one point her legs had been well, if firmly, fleshed. Her thighs had distinct hollows, and were set on hips wide enough that there was probably a visible gap when she stood with her knees together; such easy access was probably of benefit to her in her profession, Paul mused. "What?" Tabitha asked at his short chuckle. "Certainly easy to get to," Paul amplified. "Been havin' trouble, Honey?" Tabitha chuckled. "Let's just say you're a little more limber than what I'm used to." Paul went to his knees; it was time to examine the goods. From close up, Tabitha's pussy was well-worn -- it might as well have had a 'ten million served' sign. The thin inner lips were loose and even darker than the rest of her skin -- totally black -- but they exposed a shocking pink interior, and the whole thing was clean and well-displayed under a neatly-trimmed patch of wiry pubes. Paul slid his thumbs along the fringed lips, pulling them open, examining her vaginal opening in surprise -- it looked as tight as the lips guarding it looked worn! Tabitha hissed, "That's nice... Why don'tcha feel around a bit inside..." "You sure?" "I'm hopin' for a good bit more than that, Lover!" "Oh, all right." Paul inserted a finger in her tunnel, a three- or four-stage operation as she was tight and not that soaking wet -- but he was watching her eyes, and they didn't reflect serious injury. "How's that?" he asked as the lube picked up. "Ummm, pretty good! What'cha think?" "It's surprisingly tight..." "Ya cain't peddle loose shit, Honey. They pass the word -- I'd be outta business in a month!" Tabitha chuckled. "Lemme guess, them cows you been datin' be all loose shit, too?" "Well, not all of them. Most seemed pretty tight to start, as a matter of fact. But I expected you to feel kind of -- I dunno -- used?" "Honey, that's an EDUCATED pussy!" Tabitha bore down on his finger, her opening nibbling at it. "That's the good shit!" "Shit, I guess so!" Paul grunted. "So does this thing work?" He started working his thumb over her clitoris. "Whoa! Holy shit!" Tabitha's eyes bugged. "What?" Paul stopped as if stung. "When I'm workin', I don't let johns fuck with that..." "You're not working." "Yeh, I noticed," Tabitha gasped. "Awright, go ahead." "Why don't you... enjoy your work?" Paul asked, thumb once more at work. "Hookin' is a service business," Tabitha gasped. "And I'm givin', not gettin'. 'Sides, fakin' a cum takes a lot less energy than gettin' one, five, six times a night. Mostly, though, it's 'bout not gettin' emotionally involved." "How long has it been since you had sex for fun?" Paul asked gently. "Long time. Uuuh! Looong time!" Tabitha undulated under the attack on her clit. "Even when it wasn't fer money, I took it out in trade... Uuuh! Doin' it too often to really be doin' it fer fun..." "What do you do when... ?" "Diddle. Uuh! You do that pretty good!" Paul found himself wondering whether it was worth using his cock. "Well, if you don't really enjoy fucking..." "Well, now, it's always been fun... It's kinda mental, ya know? Bidness is bidness..." "And fun is fun?" Paul grinned. "Uh huh." Tabitha was mauling her own nipples and panting hoarsely. "Been a few days on vacation. Work's... uuh... kinda been off my mind for a coupla days... Lordy! Right there!" Tabitha got stiff as a board, shook, and her eyes rolled up. Paul chuckled to himself, thinking, 'Well, now I know what I'm shooting for... ' He kept working on her swollen clit and working his finger in her spasming tunnel while Tabitha jerked and thrashed. It took about a minute for her to visibly settle down; Paul let up and said, "So, that's the real thing?" "Yeah," Tabitha gasped. "Cain't do that fer customers -- they'd rip me off while I was wasted, afterward..." "I can see that." Tabitha was limp as a dishrag; Paul could feel it. "That was good," Tabitha husked, "but it wasn't a dick." "We'll get around to that," Paul replied. "How do you feel, inside?" "Nary a twinge." Tabitha heaved herself up. "Lessee if this tongue thing adds to a blowjob." ------- The Astronomy Club meeting was winding down. "This isn't an all- nighter, is it?" Darla Jean asked. "It is for us," Mary replied, "I'm taking Stick and Teddy back to my place." "Us, too," Jimmy added, "Amy's staying the night. Danny and Thelma have the other bunk." "Ummm, okay," Darla Jean murmured, "I, uh, didn't plan on it. What about you?" She turned her attention to Randall. "Things are kind of... loose," Randall replied. He wasn't tied down to a particular time -- Astronomy Club meetings went all night regularly, and his parents had learned long since not to worry about them. "Can you take me home, then?" Darla Jean asked. "Yeah." In a perfect world, he'd have some smooth line that would result in Darla Jean riding him like a bucking bronco again, but reality didn't seem to offer it. "Be right back. Got to use the..." He waved toward the bathroom/changing room at the far end of the pool house. "Let's go out and look at Jimmy's pool," Mary suggested, her eyes telling Darla Jean that she had more than that on her mind. "You can wait for Randall there..." "Okay, I guess," Darla Jean replied, and headed for the door. Teddy hopped up, but Mary quelled him with a tight shake of her head; Stick picked it up and went back to his discussion with Danny. Outside, Mary murmured, "Nice, huh?" eyeing the pool. "Very." "Jimmy would open it, I bet." "I don't have a suit." "Neither did Thelma or I, Prom night," Amy offered from the door. "We got wet, anyway." Darla Jean eyed Amy. "You guys are still meddling." Mary eyed her, "And we're wrong?" Darla Jean looked flustered. "Look, we can't just do sex!" "You know by now that he's capable of more than that," Mary replied. "I'm not trying to be pushy, but you don't want to get stupid, here, just because things started out backwards. Randall isn't Mr. Romance, but he's a good egg -- and his rep as a lover is going to make things suddenly easy for him in the short term, which will be a distraction. Nonetheless, he KNOWS who he's better off with, even if YOU don't!" Darla Jean grimaced. "I do, too -- but you and I have talked. Despite Todd and Dwayne, I'm not sure I want to be exclusive yet, even if he IS a soul-mate." Mary shrugged. "If there is a guy around who you can talk into NOT thinking with his gonads, it's Randall. I suggest that you take advantage of that, rather than just tossing the whole thing." "Huh? How, exactly?" "Be honest. Tell him you like him, but you're not done testing. Enter into a non-exclusive partnership. Each of you can play, but you anchor yourselves with each other. Try out the emotional piece, and see if it fits." "And sex?" Darla Jean queried. "I heard you," Amy murmured, grinning. "There were real fireworks, there! I bet each of you is using the other as the standard to measure others against. Maybe you ought to keep that fresh?" ------- Randall came out of the bath and looked around. Darla Jean was gone; Mary and Amy were missing, too, and Thelma was sliding out the door. Jimmy looked up, "Some kind of female thing, Man. Why don't you cool it until they come back?" Randall shrugged and wandered over to Jimmy and Teddy. "Any idea what?" Teddy shrugged. "Mary headed out of here with that look in her eye -- I think she's gonna try to paper over things." Randall sighed. "Well, it was what it was." "Actually, it is what it is," Jimmy interjected. "You want Darla Jean?" "Well, yeah. She'd stomp the competition even if we were just having sex," Randall admitted. "Add everything else..." "Okay, well, granted, your stock isn't doing too well at this point," Jimmy argued, "But I bet Mary is reminding Darla Jean that HERS is in free-fall, too -- and that you did the right thing about it." "Okay, so? What do I do?" "Well, she's probably between a rock and a hard place," Jimmy guessed. "She can't just open her legs -- that'd be cheap. But she'll want to, if Mary makes any impression on her. You need to pay attention and read the signals -- even the dim ones. Don't push her too much, but take anything she offers and ask for more. Work the other side, too -- friend and colleague, romance -- broad-spectrum attack. Dig?" Randall nodded, thoughtful. Jimmy added, "Show a little confidence, too, Man. You've been there before. Don't go all limp on her. You heard them, earlier; chivalry is dead. If you're gonna use it, make sure you get something back." "What do you mean?" "Tit for tat, Man. I'm still learning, but it goes like this: You open a door for her, she owes you a kiss. Maybe it's just a peck, but she owes YOU, too! It's not a freebie because you're stupid and can be walked on." Jimmy grinned. "I started this with Amy a few days ago; you'd be surprised. They start thinking that they owe you, and it's a chink in the armor. It makes letting you get away with things more reasonable... You get the idea." "Well..." "There are other aspects," Jimmy added. "The more she nibbles on you in public, the less competition you'll have. And it's a mind-set thing. Pretty soon, she'll realize she LIKES to nibble on you. It only gets better from there..." Teddy laughed. "Yeah. You and Amy are downright disgusting!" "Yeah? You got any idea what YOU look like with Mary all over you all the time?" Jimmy challenged. "Well, she does Stick..." "And she does YOU, too!" Jimmy laughed. "She tends to be real touchie-feelie with you BOTH, which gets you noticed..." Teddy sighed, "Well, I'm gonna stop worrying about it. Everyone who is important to any of us knows what we're up to, anyway." Jimmy sobered. "I knew you were kinda sliding that way -- but Stick Williams?" "It's, uh, unique, but it works," Teddy sighed. "I'm surprised you didn't freak at Danny..." "You know, it never came up," Jimmy sighed, scratching his head. "I don't guess it's important." "Him and Stick seem to be getting along..." Randall pointed out. "Well," Teddy chuckled, "they have a couple of things in common: embarrassment, a lack of serious interest in astronomy, friends on site... I'm not any too worried that they'll pair up or anything..." Randall strangled his attack of homophobia, "Sorry." "Changes things a bit, doesn't it?" Teddy eyed Randall. "It shouldn't. I apologize," Randall offered. "Doesn't mean that any of us doesn't like girls," Teddy pointed out. "All three of us do. It's a range -- Stick and Danny, well, I wouldn't worry about them. If you wanted to worry about somebody, it'd be me." Randall absorbed this. "Okay. I refuse to do that." "Then we're all set." Amy stuck her head in the door, "Jimmy? Can we go swimming?" Ears perked up all over the room. "You KNOW what the swimsuit collection looks like," Jimmy warned. "Come out here and we'll negotiate." Amy crooked a finger, and her eyes swept the room. All of the males started moving, various significant glances flickering between them. Sales were more difficult outside. "I don't have a suit, either," Mary moaned, "and I look like the Goodyear blimp!" Amy shrugged. "Teddy's seen you, right? Stick, too?" "Of course." "Well, these big floppy things are eye-magnets for boys, but they're pretty saggy," Amy replied, hefting her breasts, "so what?" "At least you two have meat on your bones," Thelma complained. "I look like a skeleton in shrink-wrap! Thank God..." Thelma shut up and Amy chuckled. Thelma was superstitious about making any comment that made it sound like she took Danny's attentions for granted. Darla Jean quirked an eyebrow, "What?" "Danny sees her a little differently than most," Amy filled in. "Thelma hasn't figured out that she's a sex goddess yet." "Didn't Danny just announce he was omnivorous?" Darla Jean queried. Thelma blanched, and Mary winced, but Amy shook her head, "That was B. T. He's done. But he showed again what a good egg he is by taking the heat off Teddy and Stick." "B. T.?" Thelma asked. "Before Thelma." The subject of conversation appeared in the door, so Amy moved to others. "C'mon, Mary, suck it up! You can stay in the deep end." "With the other whales?" Mary replied, but she seemed to be moving a bit. "Look at the bright side," Amy replied. "We'll all get a look at Stick's harpoon. And Teddy's." She turned to Darla Jean, "Wanna see what you're missing?" She flicked her eyes at Jimmy. "I've heard," Darla Jean laughed, "You just want to see whether or not I got the better end of the deal after all." "Well, it's a paid admission thing," Amy laughed. "You KNOW the boys will all shuck if we do." She eyed Darla Jean closely, "Give it a chance." Darla Jean got the hint. This was a prime opportunity to get sucked into an intimate situation without actively instigating it. The things Darla Jean needed to say to Randall were pillow-talk for after sex -- if she had to get all obvious about getting him there, it would take time or it would make her look slutty -- or both. A situation like this granted some plausible deniability -- she'd gone along to be with the group, things had gotten out of hand, etc. "I will if Mary will." Mary knew that she was cornered. Amy had come up with this in support of her big talk with Darla Jean; now it was put up or shut up. "What about Thelma?" Amy eyed her girlfriend. "Thelma's a done deal. Jimmy's seen her, and Danny could no doubt tell you all about the mole she has on her..." "Amy!" From Thelma's instinctive clutch, the mole was in the vicinity of her right breast. But she didn't gainsay Amy... Amy eyed Mary, lips quirked. "Of course, if you're afraid you can't hold your men..." "Awright, awright! But I want A BIG towel, and I want to know where chest deep is!" "Jimmy?" "Yeah, Babe?" The guys were all standing back; these things were best done without any male input, it was universally felt. "You've got big towels, right?" "Sure..." "We're gonna need a bunch. We're gonna skinny-dip, but we need some sop to propriety for outside the pool." "Right." Jimmy started counting heads. "Boys, too," Amy insisted. "If you won't play, you have to run along." This brought shrugs, universally; there wasn't a male present who didn't think that the price of admission was well within reason. Also significant was the fact that no one gave any thought to recent revelations of homosexual activity; everyone was clearly focused elsewhere. "Danny," Jimmy asked, "How many beach towels do we have?" "Dunno," Danny opined. "We could run short. Want me to go to the house?" "Do you mind?" "Naw." "Let's get a count, first." The two boys headed inside. "Okay," Mary wanted control of things, if possible. "We undress inside, and wear the towels until we get in, all right? We go in naked, and have to stay that way in the pool -- but outside, we can wear whatever we want." "Awright! Jeez!" Amy rolled her eyes. "Hey, I'm just trying to keep everybody from puking!" Mary insisted. "I bet Stick and Teddy don't complain," Amy challenged. "Well, I limit their exposure." "It's my fault. I once told her that she wasn't a swimsuit model," Teddy murmured. "Yeh, but she does awright without!" Stick grinned. Teddy nodded. Jimmy and Danny reappeared. "Got six," Jimmy announced, carrying a stack. "Danny's going for more." "Okay. Girls change first?" Amy started handing out towels. The other three girls filed by, each taking a towel and going inside. Amy entered last, and announced, "You can use the changing room, but I'm not." She went over to a twin bed in the back of the room -- one that she'd shared with Jimmy -- and started peeling out of her clothes. Thelma took Amy's lead and began disrobing before the other bunk. "The things I get myself into," Mary grumbled, ambling over to the couch and going to work on her own clothing. Thelma and Amy had obviously had sex in each other's presence, but Mary didn't know if she wanted to let the thing blow up into a full-scale orgy; besides, who knew what the others would make of some of the combinations the three of them got into? Best not... Darla Jean hopped from foot to foot. She was the only girl present who was not technically committed; should she hold onto that? Or should she go with the crowd? Amy gave her a look, "Up to you..." The 'You can waste all of our efforts... ' was implied. Darla Jean headed for a recliner, and started pulling off her things. ------- "Erin!" Caitlin McGrath exclaimed. She'd arrived to a darkened living room and turned on the lights to discover a writhing mass on her couch. Under the impact of light and noise, the mass resolved itself into her daughter and a boy -- both in serious disarray! "Mom! God, what time is it?" Erin sat up and began adjusting her clothing. "Later than you think, apparently. Who is this?" her mother asked. "This is Toby, Mom," Erin replied, while the boy attempted to straighten out an even bigger mess. Erin had undoubtedly had her hand in his pants, from the way his underwear topped the waistband of his pants, and his shirt was going to take serious tucking. "I see," Caitlin replied. "And how long have you known each other?" "Oh, forever," Erin passed it off, "but we just started dating." "You look to be moving pretty quickly..." Caitlin was trying to keep from getting shrill; while she and Erin had carefully not discussed it, Caitlin had it on pretty good authority that Erin was no longer a virgin -- and that she hadn't been any too smart about it. "Umm, it looks worse than it was," Toby volunteered, "We were just necking." "JUST necking?" Caitlin pounced. "There wasn't any 'just' about it!" Erin replied defiantly, "It was GREAT!" "Yes." "No." The couple eyed one another and tried again, "No." "Yes." Toby closed his eyes for a moment, then said, "I mean that I believe that we had both already exceeded expectations for the evening." He turned to Erin for confirmation, "Right?" "Uh huh." Caitlin paused. What boy came out with 'exceeded expectations' under this kind of pressure from an adult? After nearly being caught with his pants around his ankles? "Well, it's late. I think you two should quit while you're ahead." Another surprise. The boy took this comment better than Erin did, "Aw, Mom!" "She's right. I didn't plan to be out this late. Tomorrow? During the day?" Toby diffidently put himself together while nodding at Erin's mother, headed for the door. Erin followed, tucking in the back of his shirt. "Okay, call me about noon," Erin replied as they went through the door. Caitlin plopped in a chair to await her daughter's return. The wait turned out to be protracted; a look through the front curtains found the pair again clinched, kissing ravenously. Where on Earth had this come from? It took almost ten minutes for the couple to part -- and they were in disarray again when they did. But Caitlin found that she couldn't blame the boy for it, as Erin's hands appeared to be more apt to roam than Toby's. Erin was combing her hair with her fingers as she returned to the living room. "How long has THIS been going on?" her mother demanded. "Umm, what is 'this'?" Erin evaded. "This heavy petting thing," Caitlin prodded. "Not long," Erin replied. "Are you seeing a lot of boys, then?" "Umm, no." "How many this week?" Caitlin eyed her daughter. "Two." "That far?" "Sorry?" "Did you go that far with the other boy?" "Umm, the other boy was different. It didn't work out." Erin stepped carefully. "Hey, how about you ask me how many boys this month?" Caitlin raised an eyebrow, and Erin answered her own question, "Two." Belatedly, she remembered Prom night. Ah, well. She'd have never gotten a date without THAT. "I hear things," Caitlin said carefully. "Lately?" Jeez, had Mom heard about Randall? "I hear you're not too smart about boys." "Okay," Erin conceded. "Well, I'm learning." "It didn't look like it," Caitlin muttered. "What sport is Toby a jock for?" "Huh?" Erin giggled in surprise. "Why, none, unless you count Chess Club." "Chess Club?" Caitlin was stupefied. Erin preened. "Toby's a brain. I SAID I was learning!" Where IQ was concerned, the apple hadn't fallen too far from the tree in Erin's family -- but Caitlin had an additional two decades of experience. Still, Caitlin hadn't learned about jocks until it was too late... "Ooookay... What else have you learned?" "Well, I'm, uhh, working on how far to go on the first date -- but, Toby was making it pretty tough... He's awful cute!" "How have you been doing it?" "Well, I used to go with how I felt -- but that didn't seem to work too well..." "Meaning what?" "Mom!" Erin erupted, "If you 'hear things' I'm sure you hear I'm not a virgin!" "I hear a good deal worse, I'm afraid," Caitlin responded. Since the subject was open, they might as well cover it. "Well, most of THAT is probably exaggeration," Erin replied. "How many boys have you been with, then?" "We're talking sex, here?" "Yes!" "Four." "Only four?" Caitlin had done worse than that -- MUCH worse! "Four!" Erin insisted. "And Toby?" "Not yet." "I'm surprised." "Well, you might've stopped it. I couldn't have held out much longer." Erin examined her feet. "It looked like YOU were raping HIM, outside!" Caitlin chuckled. "Mom! It's not like YOU don't like it! Besides, Toby is SOOOO cute!" Erin had her, there. Caitlin had been a true flower child, and suffered the downside; Erin had never really had a father. Experiments with men who wanted to live with her tended to end disastrously, due to habitually poor selection criteria and the fact that she was somewhat homely, so Caitlin had given up. After two decades, love didn't enter into it, but Caitlin liked to have her itch scratched periodically, so she'd go out and collect some character in a bar and let him take her home once every couple of weeks. It was still a seller's market, even at almost forty, but she was on the shelf at Wal-Mart, not Neiman-Marcus, and the partners she collected reflected the difference in quality. Other than that, she was totally independent -- always had been. From the sound of things, Erin was doing quite a bit better... "We probably ought to have the sex talk, Hon. It was really only four guys?" "Uh huh." The McGrath girls -- both generations -- were always up- front. It could be said that they were just unable to lie well, but it was more a personality trait. "Tell me." Caitlin waved for her daughter to follow and hit the refrigerator for a soda. "The rumor mill claims that there were a lot more." "Okay, well, there WAS a fifth, sort of -- Scotty got a hand job to take me to the Prom." Caitlin sighed. "Why don't you take it from the top?" "Okay." Erin plopped on a kitchen chair and accepted a soda from her mother. "Robbie was the first, late last year sometime. He's a big man on campus, and I got sucked in. He's had a lot of girls since, and he doesn't brag anymore, but he did with me, and that's how I got my reputation. Early this year, I got a couple of other jocks, and then it all kind of stopped -- I didn't know why, but suddenly they all seemed to know something I didn't, and no one was interested." "Did you catch something?" "No, that wasn't it. I couldn't figure it out. Anyway, recently, I got wind that one of the super-brainy types was actually seriously hot in bed. I didn't see us like, going out, but I figured I could at least discover what 'good in bed' was, since aside from Rob, things hadn't been any too impressive. Well, it turns out he WAS good -- and he helped ME out, too!" "Oh?" Caitlin was mystified. "Uh huh. In the first place, he made it absolutely incredible -- I'd never gotten a cum before, that way. And then he, well, offered suggestions to keep me from screwing up." "Like what?" Erin blushed. "I was just laying there, soaking it up. I thought not moving made things easier. Come to find out, that gets you labeled a dead lay..." "Oh." Caitlin had gotten sex-ed at group parties; with the example of other girls before her, lying still had never occurred to her. But Erin was a product of a more up-tight generation... "Added to that, I'm kinda slow to start... I almost wore the guy out, and he was a machine! He told me that some girls just have to have their, uh, clit worked on, and it was no shame to do myself -- that made a BIG difference! I really just needed a jump-start to get me to the point where I could finish..." Erin's mother absorbed this; it was new information. Success at achieving orgasm had always been hit or miss with her -- maybe this was why... "And Toby?" "One of my girlfriends suggested him. She's as big as a house, but she has TWO steady boyfriends, and they share her, so I figure she might know a thing or two. Anyway, I learned that smart guys tend to be a lot nicer and not so selfish -- but the guy I saw that time was, well, TOO smart. No way we were going to make it. Toby is on the high end, but he's not Superbrain, so we at least have SOME things in common -- and kissing him was a REAL SURPRISE!" Erin grinned. Caitlin sighed. "Honey, I don't know what to tell you at this point, since I suck so bad at relationships. I don't really think it's fair to tie a rope around a boy's neck before you have sex with him the first time, but maybe you ought to look to see if there is SOMETHING else besides the physical attraction..." "Well, Mom, I'm feeling some romance, here. Okay, I thought I felt romance with Rob, and it turned out differently, but I haven't really pushed that end of things, since. Toby, well, he doesn't seem to be greedy..." "Do you seem to have anything else? Sex will GET you a guy, but it seems to take other things to KEEP one..." Caitlin murmured. "Well, Toby doesn't think with his dick -- or at least not all the time!" Erin chuckled. "I think early on it was about the chase, but then I kind of baited him a bit. But then we reached a point where -- I don't know -- it wasn't just about whether he was going to get some anymore." "You two were pretty far along when I walked in!" "Yeah, but neither of us was consciously trying! The big thing we were doing was kissing; only when we came up for air would we discover that he had his hand on my ass, or I was under his shirt... Sex was a side issue. Oh, it wouldn't have been, if we'd actually gotten there, but we were doing fine, and I KNOW he wasn't consciously trying to get into my pants any more than I was consciously trying to get into his! It was more like feeling skin made the kisses better..." Erin shook her head. "Whatever it is we're doing, it's natural. I'll look for more tomorrow, but this IS more than just sex." "Hmmmmm," Caitlin replied. "Ever hear of the three date rule?" "Yeah," Erin eyed her mother warily. "I already asked him if he thought I was easy..." Caitlin cackled. "And he said no, right?" "Not really -- not like that. He actually thought about it." "He did?" Caitlin stopped short. "Uh huh. I was expecting 'Sure, Baby, blah, blah, blah... ' and I got silence. It was weird. So I asked him what was up, and he said something like he hadn't really gotten to the point of planning anything, he was just going with the flow. So I asked him flat out if he was going to ask me for another date if I said no, and he said yeah -- and the way he said it, I believed him." Erin grinned. "There's another reason I believe him, too; really smart guys seldom have girlfriends because they don't know what to say to them." "You're probably right," her mother agreed. "Got any idea why?" "Ummmm, I think it's because regular guys use the same old lines that have worked forever -- but smart guys see other possibilities, and they trip all over themselves trying to figure out what will really work. Toby plays chess you know." Erin added. "Uh huh. Interesting idea. What does chess have to do with it?" Caitlin asked. "It's a real complex game. You have to think and plan, or you lose. Toby lost the game he was playing at Chess Club tonight just because I was there, distracting him. I think regular guys are like jocks -- they go with the standard playbook. But smart guys try to make up a playbook as they go along, trying to plan in advance and do things that will get a girl's attention. And generally it doesn't work because girls are expecting the standard stuff, so smart guys look weird. You see?" Erin asked, proud of her analysis. "Ummm, yeah. Interesting. Weird, but it makes sense, sort of. So how do you plan to deal with it?" "By giving him the benefit of the doubt. I'll have to think about things when he comes at me weird. But I'm not too worried, because there is another advantage to smart guys," Erin murmured, pleased with herself, "You see, I don't think they lie." "No?" Caitlin was dubious. "Uh uh. I could be wrong, and I'm sure they COULD lie, but it gets in the way of what they're trying to do -- especially the way they're trying to do it. A regular guy will lie because lying works -- if that's what it takes, no problem. Heck, they're bad at it, anyway -- they get by because the girls are kidding themselves more than anything else. It's kind of a conspiracy; they do it, and we KNOW they do it, but we give them credit for doing things the right way. But smart guys are trying to prove they're a better choice -- and lying doesn't make you any better. It's like if you ask a guy to do something for you. A regular guy will do it, but he's likely to try to make you feel like you owe him. Smart guys will do it no strings attached, HOPING you'll feel like you owe them!" "Wow! Where did you come up with this stuff?" This was ALL news to Caitlin. "I dunno. I'm on a roll. Some of it is from talks with Mary -- when she talks about stuff, it's like she gets in a boy's head or something. How else could she keep TWO boyfriends? But some of it is just from looking around... Some of it is from experience..." Erin shook her head. "The smart guy was the only one I ever had sex with who was reluctant from the start. You know why? He didn't want to string me along! Is that weird, or what?" "Ummmm..." Was Erin right? As wild as this stuff sounded, it had this ring to it... "So, like, geeky Howard, who goes out and gets my lunch every couple of days, and always brings back exact change..." "... Just might be Mr. Perfect," Erin nodded. Caitlin thought about it, shook her head. No way! She just couldn't imagine it! "Probably hung like a squirrel..." Erin eyed her mother sidelong, "The smart guy was this long -- and he knew how to use it!" The measurement Erin marked off with her hands wasn't scientific, but it was in the vicinity. "You can't tell by looking..." "Well, THAT's true!" her mother agreed. "All right, I won't lean on this Toby -- but you be careful, okay?" "Thanks, Mom." ------- "Hey! Easy!" Tabitha was sucking Paul's cock like she was trying to remove it from his crotch! "Oh, sorry, Baby -- I'm used ta workin' through a rubber. Hows this?" Tabitha slipped her mouth back over his length. "Man!" Suddenly, his cock was in a warm, bath, being massaged from the bottom by the flat of her soft, flexible tongue. "That's great!" Tabitha worked it a moment; obviously, deep throating it wasn't anything difficult for her from the way she was backing off to the tip and then absorbing his length to the root. Backing off, she asked, "What about the stud, Stud?" "I don't think you need it," Paul gasped. "Maybe it'd improve things if I was wearing a rubber, but like this?" He shook his head. Tabitha dove on his length a few more times, backed off, and looked up. "You wanna finish like this, or can we move on to the main event?" "I'm not gonna last worth a damn either way," Paul grunted. The mouth work was incredible, and if the pussy was anything like it... "Gimme, then. We'll get it back up for the second go..." Tabitha's soft lips rolled over Paul's glans and kept going. When she got to the root, Tabitha produced another surprise, somehow managing to extend her tongue and lap at the sensitive hairs at the base of Paul's scrotum. Paul couldn't help it; he buried his hand in her kinky curls and held her there. Tabitha didn't struggle; she merely continued her work until he mastered himself and let up, then backed off, eyes on his, smiling. When her lips were kissing his crown, she took a breath through her nose, whirled her tongue around the tip, and went for the root again. Paul stood there, his fists clenching and unclenching. When she came off this time, she murmured, "Go ahead and use me, Baby -- it's okay, I won't break." "I don't see how I could improve on what you're doing," Paul hissed. "Mebbe, but it's nice bein' in control, ain't it?" Tabitha smiled slyly while she lapped Paul's tip. Paul groaned, gave in and took her head in both hands, guiding her back onto his length. His control was still nominal, but it was there as he gently tuned her efforts. Tabitha went a few more strokes, gave him this look, and adopted a corkscrewing motion that drove Paul rigid. "Gonna shoot!" he hissed. Tabitha merely clutched his ass to make sure he wasn't going anywhere. "GNNNNNNGH!" Paul grunted as what seemed like five gallons of spunk roared up from the base of his cock and pulsed right down Tabitha's throat. "HOLY SHIT!" His vision whited out and his ears roared while his cock pulsed heavily a half-dozen times. When it was over, he stood there, weak-kneed, while Tabitha pulled back, grinning. "You was savin' that up a while, wasn't you, Honey?" Paul could only nod. "Good stuff, too! Rich and creamy! Howcum you ain't got no kids, shootin' THAT stuff?" "Birth control," Paul managed. He turned around and settled onto the bed next to Tabitha, sitting before his knees gave way totally. "That's too bad, Honey," Tabitha replied. "Cock like that, you oughta have two women fightin' over it an' a half-dozen little crumb snatchers comin' up to service the next generation!" Paul laughed. "What a bunch of shit! Do you say that crap to johns?" Tabitha shrugged. "Stuff like it, if I think they need it. First time I ever come out wit' THAT one, though." She eyed him, "I'm a fuckup of a mother, an' I had myself fixed after Nate, or I'd punch out some brats fer ya, jus' ta keep your head all puffed up." Paul shook his head. "You're insane. Why on Earth do you keep throwing yourself at me?" Tabitha shrugged. "Dunno. Mebbe you're wearin' some 'a that after shave that drives women wild? Or mebbe deodorant?" She proceeded to stick her nose in his left armpit, snorting. Paul barked laughter, pushing her back onto the bed. "That tickles!" Tabitha's eyes were serious when his met them, though. "Does it matter, really? Suck my titties, Paul. Make love to me." Paul was a quart low, and just off one of his most powerful orgasms in recent memory, but the woman was asking... He latched onto a nipple and started working it with his lips and tongue. "Oooh! That's nice!" Tabitha moaned, clutching his head to her chest. He brought up a hand to engage the other nipple, gently manipulating it and the stud that pierced it, and Tabitha moaned, "Lordy, I gotta rub my clit on somethin'!" Paul shifted a bit, and Tabitha began literally humping his leg. Mauling her nipples brought an unbearable itch to her clit. "Goddam! I haven't had this much fun since..." She trailed off; thinking was too much work. "Aaahh! Shit! Please get hard, Baby! Stroke my insides for me!" Somewhat to Paul's surprise, when her hand found his cock, it was already hard again. Tabitha rubbed her hand over the bulbous head, and it became fully apparent that it was useable, so Paul murmured, "Now?" "Oh, yeah, Baby! Gimmee!" Tabitha splayed her legs and guided the tip toward her opening. But it wasn't going to work -- their position on the bed didn't allow it. When Paul found his head being pulled away from her nipple while he doubled over for the insertion, he discovered that there was just no way! "Slide up on the bed and spread 'em!" he demanded. Tabitha was more than willing to oblige, crab-walking back onto the bed and raising her knees. Her nether lips opened, displaying her shocking pink center to Paul as he crawled up behind her, intent on making the insertion before it went down again. Paul needn't have worried; as he settled the tip of his cock against her opening, Tabitha's cunt did something Paul had never before experienced; her vagina flowered open to accept him, then clamped on his shaft as he sank inside. Paul was amazed; usually insertion was a fight, then the woman's tunnel loosened around him while he stroked -- sometimes too much for either of them to enjoy properly. Tabitha's tunnel seemed to clasp him all along his rigid length, creating powerful sensations. "Wow! How do you do that?" Tabitha managed a tight grin, "Told ya it was educated!" Paul settled himself as high as possible in order to get into contact with Tabitha's clit and began to stroke. Tabitha, who would normally have thrown her pelvis forward, arched her back to shift his angle and improve things. Paul took it easy for a few moments, then asked, "How's that?" "It's good, Baby," Tabitha cooed. "Go ahead and pick it up. Bang the shit outta me!" Paul did as he was asked. The position -- or the adjustments to it, since it was basically the missionary position -- had Tabitha's pubic bone rubbing the top of his cock while he worked at bashing her clit, as well as a continuance of her tight clasp; Paul was grateful for the oral attention he'd gotten, because if he'd entered her fresh, he'd have only lasted a couple of strokes. "How's this?" "It's good, Baby -- damn good!" Tabitha gasped -- and it was, but she wasn't sure she was going to cum again. Her twat was a little tender, but it wasn't sore, thank God... Paul wanted to add to things, but he was taller than Tabitha and couldn't really get anything into position. If he rose up to attack her tits, he'd lose contact with her clitoris... "Play with your nipples!" he directed. "Uh, 'kay," Tabitha grunted. She'd wanted to, but habit said you didn't do anything that told a john that he might not be performing well. Twisting and pulling her nipples flashed fire across her senses. "Get yours, Woman -- it's what we're here for!" Paul directed. "I'll get mine, don't you worry! Stop treating me like a john and get happy!" "Okay!" Tabitha panted, "I'm goin' to loosen up jus' a little bit, Baby, so it ain't so much work..." She did so, but it was merely incremental as far as Paul was concerned; things were still pretty amazing. The friction went down just enough that the effort involved in stroking her tight tunnel reduced markedly; loose, it wasn't, by ANY means! He continued to slam away, the feel of her clasping tunnel giving him all the incentive he needed to continue until his hips failed, if necessary. Tabitha realized she'd been habitually milking him like she would a john, trying to get him to orgasm quickly. Avoiding habit and remembering that she was there to have fun was difficult, but rewarding -- Paul was doing a helluva job! She wondered if she should diddle... Her hand released her right nipple and stole down her belly. "I got it," Paul gasped and rose up. This pulled him away from her clit, as expected, but it allowed him to put his hand on her pubes and drop his thumb over the hood of her stiff clit. "Oh, holy shit!" Tabitha moaned as her hand returned to her nipple, "I think you're strokin' my G-spot!" Most of Tabitha's wriggling to date had been internal; now, her knees began alternately clasping his sides and dropping loose to the tune of her internal imperatives. Paul tuned his stroke to her pulsations and Tabitha started drawing air in short pants, "Oh, Lordy! I got one comin'! Big 'un!" The questions in Tabitha's mind changed from 'if' to 'when' and 'how big', and the answers were drifting off the scale in either direction as her orgasm seemed to grow as it rushed up on her. Paul, working above her, watched as her eyes widened to the point that the whites showed all around the irises before she screamed "OH GAWWWD!" and they rolled up as she grabbed her knees and pushed her pelvis up toward him. In the process, she amazed him again; the pulsations of her vagina as she thundered through her orgasm were the most intense he'd ever experienced! Paul had ridden what he considered to be good pussy -- and not felt anything special during an orgasm, except maybe a general increase in tightness. Tabitha's vaginal grip stopped his movement but replaced it with a rolling massage that he just couldn't resist... "WHUUUUHHH!" he grunted, pressing himself deep and kicking off his second giant cum in twenty minutes, something he didn't even think he could do in the first place! "Oooooo, that's nice, Baby!" Tabitha cooed breathlessly, "I can FEEL that! That's SOOO nice!" Paul held himself above her on weakened arms, gasping; Tabitha reached up to pull him down, murmuring, "C'mere, Baby and give Mama a kiss..." The pair merged lips and Paul drifted off marveling disconnectedly at how soft Tabitha's were. Tabitha barely lasted long enough to notice how limp he was before she faded out, too. ------- Chapter 39A: Show and Tell at the Pool Danny returned with the towels just as Mary stuck her head through the door, "We're ready!" But Randall's cell phone rang. "Hello?" "Randall? Toby." "Hi. What's up?" "Just left Erin's." Toby sounded self-satisfied. "Hang on." Randall put his finger to his lips and put the phone on speaker. "So what happened? Did you get laid?" "Who's listening?" Toby asked, alerted by the change in sound quality. "Nobody who doesn't know what you were up to," Randall assured him. In the meantime, the boys followed Randall inside to keep the breeze from interfering with the phone. Mary held her fingers to her lips and the girls went silent. Everyone crowded around, the boys still dressed and the girls in their towels. "Well, I didn't get laid, but I had a lot of fun, anyway. Erin is... interesting." "Oh?" Randall blinked. "She's, uh, kind of off the wall, but she's a helluva kisser. We went to the movies, then hung out at the overlook for a while, then went to her place and made out on the couch until her mom showed up. I dunno -- I had a great time, and I think I want to see her again, but I feel weird about it." Toby said, puzzled. "What bothered you?" Randall asked. "Well, Erin has that rep," Toby replied. "When I followed her out of Chess Club, that was basically the only thing on my mind. I was kind of just following my dick, I guess." Somebody tittered, and Toby whined, "Who's there, really?" Mary pointed at herself and Teddy. "Well, Mary and Teddy," Randall related. "Oh, okay," Toby replied. "Anyway, I just kind of slowly tried to see what I could get away with all through the movie and kept it up until we were at the overlook -- and I made a little ground. Then she hits me with do I think she's easy. Suddenly, I realize that I'm just taking advantage of the situation -- I've got no plan -- I haven't looked any farther than playing the cards she dealt me at Chess Club. On the other hand, we'd had a lot of fun, and I hadn't found any reason why I shouldn't think about taking a more serious look, if you know what I mean..." "So what did you tell her?" Randall demanded. "Well, I was kind of hung up on it. Sure, I was into it for what I could get, but that was more or less just because; I wasn't just planning to get into her panties, it was more like it was a date. So when she wants to know why I didn't answer, I told her that I really hadn't put it all together until she asked, and that I really didn't have an answer." Randall rolled his eyes, but Mary looked thoughtful. "What did she say to that?" "She said I was thinking too hard. She said something like, 'If I don't put out tonight, are you gonna ask me out again?' I kinda went, 'Duh' in my head and said yeah -- next thing I knew we were kissing. Things got REALLY good after that -- but it was kissing. Sure, I felt her up and SHE felt ME up, but it was all kinda just to go along with the kissing. We might have even done it, if her mom hadn't showed up, but it would have been because it was the thing to do, not because I was planning it and making it happen." Toby was silent a moment, then went on, "I'm kind of happy we DIDN'T do it -- it's something for the future. Am I nuts?" "Are you going to see her again?" Mary asked. "Yeah, tomorrow." "Why?" "Because." Toby sat there in his car, thinking. The whys of it weren't clear -- he couldn't get past because. "Because you want to have sex with her?" Mary prompted. "Well, yes and no," Toby replied. "Sure, I want to do it with her, but that's not the whole thing -- not even close! She's, well, weird, but that just makes her interesting..." "So, you're thinking about having a relationship," Mary clarified. "Um, yeah -- looks like it. But I'm not sure about Erin. I mean, she let me get away with stuff that no girl ever did -- but I didn't get a sense of 'easy' out of it..." "Toby," Mary explained, "Erin is up-front about things -- she's really a very simple, straightforward person. She's also, well, not the brightest bulb in the circuit. She tends to go with her feelings, and on a couple of occasions she's been screwed over for it. From that standpoint, maybe, she's easy -- but she's learned not to go with her feelings, the hard way, when it comes to sex. I CAN tell you this, though: she's looking for a boyfriend who'll treat her right, and from the sound of things, you're the front-runner." "Okay, I can handle that." "Look, she could use a guy who is serious about her, who can take care of her, Toby," Mary pressed. "If you take her on, be honest with her. If you are and you take care of her properly, she'll be great for you. But don't just take advantage of her." Behind Mary, Amy and Jimmy shared a glance and Amy smiled wryly -- after all, their situation bore more than a passing resemblance to the one described. "Okay, I got it. I just wasn't sure about what she was trying to say -- what it all meant -- why she was acting that way," Toby stammered. "Well," Randall replied, "Erin can be really direct. If she wanted just sex, she'd have taken you somewhere, and you'd have just had sex. If you guys are doing romantic things, then she wants romance..." "Wow, no shit? She's THAT direct?" "No shit, Man. Trust me," Randall replied. "If she was letting you get away with things, it was because she liked what you were doing. She doesn't play head games." "Okay, I guess I'm all set, then. Later, Man!" "Later." Randall hung up. "Okay, girls, hit the door -- it's OUR turn!" "You don't want us to stay and watch?" Mary teased. "You get yours when we get ours," Randall replied. "Hit the bricks -- or you can drop the towel now! That's the price of admission!" "Okay, okay!" Mary didn't really want to do this in the first place; no way she was going to drop her towel! "Come along, girls!" Head high, she led the way out. Jimmy glanced at Danny, shrugged, and started getting out of his clothes. Stick shrugged and skinned out of his shirt; Teddy took his cue from Stick. That left Randall, who looked around, nodded, and started undressing, dropping his things on the same chair that Darla Jean had used. Outside, Mary headed straight for the pool. Amy, divining her intent, warned, "Mary!" "What?" Mary spun on Amy. "Dammit, I CANNOT drop my towel and stand naked in front of those boys! I'm... ugly! "Two of them don't think so," Amy countered. "Even if that's true -- and I'm not so sure it is -- there are three more who have never seen me and will be happier if they don't!" Mary insisted. "Well, I'M the other end of the scale," Thelma whined. "Think I'M looking forward to this?" "I don't see the problem," Darla Jean murmured, "Each of you HAS a boy..." Mary merely eyed her with a quirked eyebrow and a look of disgust. "What?" Mary held her tongue; pushing Darla Jean would only make her stubborn. The delay, however, had done its job; Stick ambled out of the door with a towel casually draped around his waist, followed by Jimmy. Danny was next, followed by Randall, and Teddy drew up the rear. "Well, we're all here," Amy noted. "Okay, let's do it this way: Guys on one side, girls on the other. We all go at once, so nobody gets THAT good a look, okay?" The girls were all for it, but the grimaces on the boy's faces said the deal was no bargain. Jimmy acted as the voice of the opposition, complaining, "Jeez, why do we have to do it THAT way? Why not just show it off and get it over with?" "Sweetie," Amy cajoled, "Some of us girls aren't that great looking..." "So?" Randall took it up, "That seems to be a common problem." He held out his hands to his partners in crime and got a rumble of agreement. "C'mon, PLEASE?" Mary begged. "You don't want to see me..." "Stick's seen ya," Danny rumbled. "So has Teddy. They don't look like they puke a lot." Mary opened her mouth, but Stick said, "Mary, that's enough." "Stick, Honey..." "Shhh!" Stick admonished, and Mary shut up -- something that brought several raised eyebrows. "Look, I heard enough talk ta know that everbody here does all right -- but we're all different, so it's, ummm, educational, ta see what real life is like -- that we're a variety, instead of a buncha models or sumpthin'. I say everbody gets seen by everbody, equal. Y'all line up in a row, back to the pool, along the edge. The person on this end drops their towel an' walks all the way to the far end of the line an' gets in the pool just beyond the end. Then the next person does the same thing, only he or she gotta walk past the person already in the pool, who is the new end of the line. This goes on 'til the last person walks by everbody else already in the pool." "I like it," Jimmy popped up. "Do I have to jump in?" "Nope. You can stand in your spot naked, if ya want," Stick replied. "Or if you're still bashful, ya can jump in an' hang off the side. Your choice." The boys all took up this plan, visibly, challenging the girls with their eyes. "Stick, Honey..." Mary tried again. "Quiet. You can do this. Shit, you keep TWO of us happy -- it just cain't be that bad! Besides, when you girls gonna have a chance like this to see five hard-ons at the same time?" At least three of the girls blinked at that, so Stick pressed. "It ain't jus' y'all you know -- us guys are gonna do it, too! Mebbe we should go boy girl boy or sumpthin'." "Girls!" Amy waved to gather her compatriots. She wasn't that bashful in the first place, and Jimmy's eyes had told her how HE felt about it; time to buck up the others. "Look, this is fair. It's a few seconds, then you're in the water. Besides, I bet the boys DON'T jump in, and we'll get that much more out of it!" "Are you gonna jump in?" Mary challenged. "I don't think so, Amy replied, "but the rules allow it and nobody will think less of you if you do." "I-I can't just stand around like that," Thelma whined. "Then don't," Amy replied. "But you've got nothing to be ashamed of." "I've got nothing," Thelma replied. "I bet Danny would argue with that," Amy replied, "Are you in?" The question was asked of Thelma, but Amy was watching Darla Jean. Ultimately, the narrow redhead with the eyeglasses was the reason they were all making fools of themselves -- and arguably, she was the best looking of the lot! What was SHE going to do? Thelma would cave and follow Amy's lead, anyway. Darla Jean sensed that it was her time to weigh in, so she did, "Stick's made it a science experiment. I get to compare a variety of penises, and I get to see the different things that turn different guys on." She cocked her head, "AND I get to be naked in front of five guys and see how they react! I'm in." "Oh, all right," Mary surrendered with ill grace. "Some of the guys will probably puke, and I'm not cleaning it up!" Amy picked up Thelma's tentative shake of agreement with her eyes. Meanwhile, Stick gathered the guys, "Look, dudes, for this to work, we gotta be cool and not embarrass 'em. You talk a bunch of shit -- 'specially 'bout how BAD something is -- and they'll cave an' we'll all miss out!" "Yeah," Jimmy agreed, "keep it muted -- even approval. Just be cool. I'm not jumping in," he added. "It'd probly sweeten the pot if we ALL didn't," Stick replied, eyeing the others. Danny and Randall nodded, then everyone turned their attention to Teddy, who was the shyest member of the group. But Teddy had his instructions -- they were there in Stick's eyes. "I-I'm in." That done, they turned their attention to the females, watching them finish up. "Well?" Stick demanded when they broke up. "I guess we ought to line up," Amy replied. "Boy girl boy?" "Yeh." Stick agreed. "Who's first?" he asked, eyeing the others. "Me," Jimmy replied. "I'm the host." He went to stand at the corner of the pool. Amy passed an admonishing glance over her girlfriends and moved to stand next to Jimmy -- who stuck his arms out and nodded to Amy to do the same, placing her at double-arm interval. This brought frowns to the remaining girls, but nods of approval from the boys, who knew that the girls would limit things, given an opportunity. But Amy had gone along with it, so it was really too late to quibble... Danny moved silently to take up the next position. Seeing Danny moving, Thelma gathered herself visibly and moved to follow. The three remaining boys shared a glance. "I got it," Stick murmured, and arranged himself next to Thelma. Mary's lips tightened, but she started moving before Darla Jean could offer, mumbling, "I'm gonna embarrass YOU, too!" to Stick as she positioned herself beside him. Teddy, who was already moving behind her murmured, "You think so? I don't. Besides, who do you think has the shortest dick here?" Stick's glance at Mary said, 'See? You're not alone... ' That left Randall and Darla Jean. Randall tilted his head and waved gallantly, and Darla Jean smiled at him as she assumed her position. "Okay," Jimmy called out from his end, "No running. Each of us is a model for whatever he or she has..." "Or doesn't have," Thelma interjected quietly. There were a couple of chuckles. "... So everybody gets to show a little variety!" Jimmy finished. And with that, he dropped his towel and strode along the line. Amy was thoroughly familiar with Jimmy's equipment, but she looked on in pride. Jimmy wasn't much to look at until you pulled off his underwear, but he had an incredible cock -- topping eight inches! -- and was an absolute sex machine when using it! Jimmy passed Danny, who merely nodded, and Thelma, who had seen it in action before, too, right here at the pool house, and moved past Stick, who murmured, "Sheeit! Your Mama date horses?" That left Jimmy grinning as he passed Mary, who had heard Jimmy was hung, but was surprised at the reality. Teddy tried not to ogle, but it was serious meat. He DID manage to stifle any comments, though. Jimmy detected the additional attention, but shrugged; Teddy had his hands full. Darla Jean was fascinated; if she could have, she'd have asked for a thorough exam. Jimmy seemed to be bigger than anything she'd ever seen in real life; certainly bigger than Dwayne or even Ted. Since she'd yet to see Randall's equipment, that was an open question, but Jimmy was certainly impressive! She felt a twinge of jealousy for Amy, but she suppressed it -- that Jimmy had gotten away was HER fault more than Amy's; besides, she didn't know if she and Jimmy would really click outside the bedroom. Randall merely nodded at Jimmy as he passed; he'd been watching Darla Jean take measurements. Was she going to be dissatisfied when his turn came around? Jimmy settled in to Randall's right, and looked back to where his love was dropping her towel. Amy smiled coyly and began her promenade. She had no problem being a bit exhibitionistic at this point; while her gently rounded form was a bit heavy for the swimsuit model ideal, very few boys would pass it up. Her 36Ds sagged a bit and showed some stretch marks, but they were still eye- magnets for males, and the vertical strip of sparse but trimmed brown fur over her mons presented another target. Danny had seen it, and it was nice -- but Danny knew her sexual response, too, and he knew there was no way he could ever steal her from Jimmy; he merely nodded and smiled as she passed. Thelma grumbled, "And I have to compete with THAT," as Amy passed, but Danny replied, "No you don't." Amy turned her smiling attention to Stick, thrilled at the idea of exposing herself to the black boy. What strange circumstances had put HIM in this little show? She couldn't wait to see what he brought to the table, even though there was no way in the world she would ever stray on Jimmy... For his part, Stick got his eyeful while maintaining a carefully neutral expression. Yeah, Amy was hot, all right, but she'd probably swell up pretty big after a kid or two -- she had all the classic signs. And while she might be interested in a little strange dick at some point, it really wasn't worth it to either of them to embarrass their current partners. Look, but don't touch -- that was the way to handle it. Look, but don't touch... Mary watched Amy play up to Stick and fumed. Sure, SHE could get away with that, with her big titties and her smooth body! This was gonna be awful when her turn came! Stick flicked a glance at Mary, sensing her irritation, and Mary got a grip -- it was too late, anyway, she was committed. Amy moved on to Teddy, who certainly appreciated what he was seeing -- but it was out of his league. Besides, Mary understood him, something few other women would ever manage. She moved on to swagger past Darla Jean, who was more or less pleased with the competition. Amy was a lot more voluptuous, but she certainly WAS competition, and that made things a matter of taste. She watched Randall take Amy in; there was approval there, but there was reserve, too. This wasn't the Randall who had quietly drooled over any number of girls before last weekend... Randall swept his eyes over Amy and the physical picture was nice -- but Randall's awareness of her mental limits colored his appreciation. He'd experienced that lack several times in the past few days, and learned that he couldn't find long-term happiness on the physical plane. He was happy for Jimmy, who apparently could, but not envious. Maybe when he'd done without for a couple of weeks... Randall wasn't deluding himself about that -- the miracles of the last week or so would have to be paid for by more privation at some point in the future -- unless he could keep from stepping on it with Darla Jean... He flicked his eyes her way in an effort to catch a secret glance at her, but she caught him, so he looked away. Amy passed Randall and came to Jimmy, stopping to kiss him and rub her naked body against his. "I'm setting the standard," she purred in his ear before moving on to take up her position beyond him. She made no move to enter the pool, either. Danny was up next, and he dropped his towel and began to run the gauntlet, working hard to cover his embarrassment. Thelma, of course, wasn't a problem -- he was no surprise to her, since they'd been having sex every time they could get away with it since Prom night -- but he was somewhat of a surprise to some of the others. As big and beefy as Danny was (he looked like a Mafia hood, right down to the broken nose), he was very ordinarily hung; given his physical size and in comparison with Jimmy he actually looked small, even though his erection topped six inches. Stick had his look, but revealed nothing -- recent experience caused him to actually check Danny out, more or less especially since Danny had admitted to doing guys -- deciding that for some things, Danny would be easier to handle than Teddy. What things? He pushed THAT question aside. Mary wasn't surprised; there had been comments made. There was nothing wrong with Danny -- in fact, he was bigger than a couple of guys she'd had in earlier adventures. From a length standpoint, he had Teddy beat by over an inch, she figured. She smiled encouragement as he passed. Danny's revelation of experience with males had the same effect on Teddy as it had on Stick -- not that Teddy wouldn't have checked him out, anyway. Danny was a relief after some of the horse meat Teddy had seen in THIS group; in Teddy's limited experience, Danny had nothing to complain about, and in fact looked pretty decent, without being some giant thing that would make Teddy's stubby cock seem even shorter. He risked a smile and a nod. Danny didn't know how to take it -- he nodded nervously back, then his attention swept on to Darla Jean, who was examining his meat as if she wanted to cast it in plaster or something... Well, that wasn't EXACTLY the case, but Darla Jean was trying to collect as much data as she could, visually. Danny looked to be about the same size as Dwayne, or perhaps a touch bigger -- and just a bit smaller than that bastard Ted. All in all, it looked like she could probably define average from the three of them -- which of course made Jimmy seem even bigger. Darla Jean also looked up and smiled encouragement as Danny passed. Danny nodded and moved on past Jimmy, grunting, "Monster meat, here, makes me look like a midget..." which brought a cackle from Amy, who rubbed his shoulder as he passed. Danny assumed his position, then leaned out and murmured, "Come on, Hon." Thelma stepped out and dropped her towel, red as a beet, but game. She eyed Stick sidelong while Stick got his eyeful. Thelma was just about as close to the opposite of Amy as you could get: thin, lanky, and boney- kneed, with small breasts and a dark patch of unruly fur at the wide juncture of her thighs. Stick had seen a couple of black girls that narrow, but no white ones. He smiled and nodded at her -- something that didn't go as well as he expected, since it seemed to scare her. Thelma watched him until she came abreast of Mary, who chuckled, "You're fine, Thelma -- Stick just wanted to encourage you." "Oh, umm, okay." Thelma turned back to Stick and smiled tentatively while she moved on toward Teddy, who found his eyes drawn to her thick pubic bush. There seemed to be a lot odd about her; she seemed like she ought to be younger. She was like a tall twelve year old, still in early puberty -- her breasts were small, and she was only slightly rounded about the hips; on the other hand, there was this gap between her legs that displayed itself even as she walked, and that shaggy covering above it... It was like her pussy was the only thing grown up about her. Teddy kept his expression neutral as she passed, noting that the back side was much like the front -- undeveloped, almost boyish. She and Danny were sure the odd couple -- she looked more like Jimmy, physically, and Amy looked more like Danny. Obviously, this was a case of physical opposites attracting... Narrow as she was, Thelma made Darla Jean look robust. The pair had a lot in common, but it appeared to Darla Jean that she had a bit more of everything -- except maybe that shag rug over her twat! Darla Jean made a note to herself to discuss that mess with the other girl -- it was just a little bit gross -- but now wasn't the time... She winked and grinned as Thelma passed. Halfway through her pass and moving into familiar territory, Thelma bucked up and began to sway a bit, rather than just stumping along fearfully. The boys behind her noticed it, because her gait made her ass suddenly more feminine; Stick grinned a bit at the transformation. The scrawny ones always seemed to just stalk like robots, unless they were working at it -- usually ranting and raving about something. Stick had heard that Thelma was Hell on Wheels... Randall took in the transformation in the midst of his analysis; Thelma was a bit bigger than Erin, but had several of the same issues. Since Erin had accommodated him without trouble, no doubt there was plenty there for Danny. While the packaging wasn't anything to get excited about, at least she wasn't fat... He issued a poker-faced nod of approval as she passed. At that point, Thelma relaxed totally -- after all, Amy was her best friend, and Jimmy had seen her and Danny fucking; the big exposure thing was over. Now that it was past, she wished that she'd done better for the other boys, but at the time, the humiliation and embarrassment were just too much... Following Amy's precedent, she leaned into Danny and gave him a big kiss, then arrayed herself beside him -- heck, they'd seen it all by now, and nobody had puked -- she wasn't that visible 'way down here at the end of the line... Stick's emergence was kind of a phase change; his race and the fact that he was only a third-hand member of the group at best was added to the fact that they were now again into a situation where familiar people were on the front end of the gauntlet, and the unfamiliar ones at the end. Passing Mary, though, he got a reflection of pride, and Teddy gave off acceptance and friendship that buoyed him into the meeting with Darla Jean. Darla Jean was having a seriously hard time with the limitations imposed by the rules of engagement for this game -- she wanted to touch the boys -- all of them -- badly. She couldn't help but observe that Stick was really narrowly built and really well-hung -- but Jimmy was bigger, giving lie to the black superman myths. There was something to be said for observation, but the full experience would have been much more interesting... Sex? That she wasn't sure about, but her hands itched to feel those strange cocks, to see if they were all different to the touch. THAT would certainly ruin her reputation -- how on Earth could she hold a boyfriend while feeling up other guys? Maybe this was sort of like the childish fascination boys had for breasts? Stick picked up the fascination, but barely acknowledged it. Beyond, he moved into the area where the boys doubled up -- first Randall, and then Jimmy, who remained exposed. For a little guy, Jimmy was seriously hung, but who cared, really, except Amy? Speaking of Amy -- Stick watched her as she got her eyeful. It was a unique opportunity, and Stick was pretty decent; certainly, his presentation explained Mary's interest, and perhaps Nora's in Nate Adams -- but he wasn't Jimmy. Amy had committed fully to her man and didn't have any interest in side issues. Beyond Amy, Danny examined Stick. 'Little Teddy's takin' that? Wow! Better him than me... ' Danny thought to himself. 'I better stick to girls.' He nodded and looked away -- which only pointed up the fact that he HAD been looking. Stick, for his part, left it alone -- after all HE'D checked out Danny... Up next was Thelma, whose primary thought was, 'Oh, Gawd, another sex machine!' Thank God she hadn't settled on someone who was hung like a horse! Still, she made a serious effort at being welcoming and apologetic as he passed, smiling and nodding. Stick settled into place, pointedly looking back up the line for Mary. Mary needed the visual prompting; in fact, she needed a good deal more than that! She stepped out and stood there, looking down the row at Stick, looking mulish, but it was Teddy who said, "Now, Mary. Get it over with. The water's that way." Mary flashed him a look of betrayal, but Teddy stuck to his guns, "I'm next, you know." One final glance at Stick, who had stepped out of line and was standing there with his hands on his hips, and Mary capitulated, "All right! Remember, you ASKED for it!" She dropped the towel and got moving. "It's okay, Mary, really," Teddy offered in support as she passed. "Let it go. Pretend you're still dressed." Darla Jean's face radiated sympathy. Poor Mary! Her face, arms, and legs weren't bad at all, but the torso had three major rolls and a couple of minor ones that movement caused to jiggle. Her tits weren't any bigger than Darla Jeans, but they were a whole lot less attractive, being splayed and hanging like just another couple of rolls, nipples hanging off the bottom. Darla Jean thought that given how thin Mary's pubic fluff was, she'd have been better off shaving it... "It'll be all over in a second," she encouraged the heavy girl as she passed. Randall knew better than to react at all. He'd seen Peggy recently, so he had some experience with fat girls, but Mary had obviously not been given a break. The amazing thing was that she managed to hold onto two boys simultaneously, even if they were, well, a little queer... "You're doing fine," he added to Darla Jean's encouragement. Jimmy had almost made an exclamation when Mary exposed herself, but his quick glance at Amy had quelled him. Sex was definitely a between the ears thing -- Mary was living proof, poor thing! Jimmy had nothing against a little fat, but Mary had been cursed! Amy's warning glance got him under control before she arrived, fortunately. Mary was carefully not looking at anyone, so Jimmy escaped detection. As she passed Amy, the brown-haired girl pressed, "See?" "It ain't over, yet," Mary grunted. But the next person she had to pass was Danny, who had a female cousin with an awful glandular problem and a tendency toward hopeful exhibitionism -- he'd seen worse. "It's what you got, Mary -- and it's working for you. Quit worrying about it." Hell, Cousin Celeste didn't even have a pretty face... Mary moved on past Thelma, who merely smiled but prompted the thought, 'Talk about opposites... ' She was actually smiling when she got to Stick, who gathered her in and laid a good one on her lips, then caught her shoulder as she turned to move on. "You stay up here, too," he admonished. "Stick!" Mary all but stamped her bare foot. "I need you up here for Teddy," Stick replied evenly. Mary fumed, but she stayed out of the water. Maybe Stick was right; maybe Teddy DID need the support... Certainly, Teddy was tentative as he let the towel drop. Shifting his attention to Darla Jean, he found her eyes fairly bulging. "Oh, my!" she gasped. Teddy reddened, humiliated. "Yeah, it's small..." "Small?" Darla Jean echoed. "It's HUGE! I've never seen one so... thick..." Teddy was AMAZING! His penis WASN'T long, but the mushroom head that made up the vast majority of its length was MUCH bigger than that of any boy in her experience! "I'm sorry -- I didn't mean to embarrass you, but that's NOTHING to be ashamed of..." She followed him with her eyes. Teddy's shoulders were hunched as he moved past Randall who was eyeing Teddy's odd erection in surprise. "Try finding a girl who would want it..." Jimmy, too, eyed it, bemused, but Amy piped up with, "Maybe you ought to show it off more often. I'm SURE it has an audience..." Mary had once said that Teddy would never get a cherry; Amy had labored under the belief that she was exaggerating, but clearly she wasn't. "I'm sure it's a pleaser..." "Uh, thanks." Teddy moved past Danny, who thought to himself plaintively, 'Jeezus, am I the ONLY guy around here who's hung normally?' A couple of Stick's earlier comments suddenly made sense -- no way THAT was going in Stick's skinny ass! Teddy would have to subsist on head -- or pussy. Well, deep throat wouldn't be an issue -- just about anybody who could cram him in their mouth could please him... Thelma smiled at Teddy and nodded, but more or less ignored his equipment, initially, only really giving it a glance as he passed. This whole thing was just so embarrassing... After that, Teddy was in familiar territory. Mary pulled him in for a kiss before sending him off to park himself on her right. Darla Jean dropped her towel on cue, providing Randall with his first really good look at the totality of her, rather than the glimpses of bits and pieces he'd gotten at that memorable LAST Astronomy Club meeting. Naked, Darla Jean was a babe, even WITH the ugly eyeglasses! Under clothing, she didn't look like much, and well, the tits were small, but the pink puffy nipples were REALLY nice. She was thin -- maybe too thin to be voluptuous -- but she still possessed subdued curves. The little fluff of red hair on her mons didn't really mask her clitoral hood very well, and the thin lips were also visible, if just barely. Randall smiled, "Very nice!" "Thank you!" Darla Jean breezed by, moving on to Jimmy and taking a second look while he took her in. From Jimmy's perspective, Darla Jean looked nice, and he knew she liked her sex from listening to her bout with Randall, but she still looked a little fragile to him. Those titties were cute, but given a choice, he liked his bigger, too. Besides, she tended to be competitive, and that would get old, quick... Amy eyed Darla Jean, but the narrow redhead did nothing wrong, and Jimmy checked in with her with a glance as she passed, so Amy buried the uncharacteristic flash of jealousy and smiled. Darla Jean moved on to Danny, again taking a second opportunity to observe his manhood. Danny gave her a quick once-over, but remained poker-faced as he granted her a nod. Basically, she had a little more of just about everything than Thelma, and Danny was sensitive to the fact that Thelma would be smarting from the comparison. On second thought, Thelma's pussy might have a bit more to it, inside and out -- but Danny wasn't gonna get caught ogling while he tried to find out! Danny had already turned his attention to Thelma when Darla Jean came abreast of him. The look on Thelma's face said her inferiority complex was running full bore, so Darla Jean quickly got away from giving Danny any overt attention and shifted to Thelma, giving off friendly vibes to remind the narrow girl that she was a friend and not a threat. Thelma settled a bit and Darla Jean moved on to Stick, who continued to be fascinating for multiple reasons. Darla Jean was of interest to Stick, too -- she was pretty good lookin', naked. But he caught Mary watching him as Darla Jean passed, and pissing Mary off was fucking stupid. Besides, Darla Jean was a brainy bitch; they had zip in common. One fast fuck, maybe, but no more than that... Nope, it just wasn't worth it. Mary raised her eyebrows, and Stick shook his head fractionally. Teddy was still recovering from his trip along the gauntlet, and it colored his reaction to Darla Jean. He'd been too embarrassed to really extract anything other than humiliation from the whole thing, despite generally positive reactions -- which made Darla Jean seem so totally beyond reach that he felt unworthy to examine her. He eyed her sidelong for just a moment before shifting his eyes to Mary, only getting a vague sense of how she looked. Darla Jean, on the other hand, took another opportunity to examine Teddy's chunky cock, still amazed at its unusual properties. It was pretty amazing -- too bad he was so freaked about it... Reluctantly, she settled into position beyond him. Randall merely gathered himself, dropped the towel, and moved out. By now he'd seen everyone, and while it was embarrassing to have his cock standing at attention in front of a bunch of girls, he wasn't alone, so... He got more interest than he gave. Jimmy checked him out perfunctorily, Amy more thoroughly; she gave a quick nod of satisfaction at the fact that Randall was equipped as advertised. Danny found more embarrassment in the fact that his average length was not the average of the group, and Thelma suffered in sympathy. Stick noted that he and Randall were about evenly matched for size, as did Mary -- but Mary made it clear that she was no more interested in Randall than Stick was in Darla Jean. Teddy made his usual check and noted Randall's size, but he'd also noted a bit of homophobia in Randall's reactions, so he was circumspect. Darla Jean, however, made no bones about being pleased with the sight of Randall's equipment, and she was the ONLY person in the group whose opinion Randall really cared about; he watched her from the moment he stepped off, and she actually stepped forward to get a better view as he approached. Yeah, he really WAS pretty good sized; she'd remembered correctly! When he arrived before her, Darla Jean murmured, "All the other guys got kisses," and flowed into his arms, pressing her lips to his; in a moment, Randall got over his shock and wrapped his arms around her while they moved from chaste to open-mouthed frenching. It only lasted a moment, however, then Darla Jean stepped back, leaving a flustered Randall to take up his position. "Now what?" he asked. "Last one in is It for Marco Polo!" Jimmy yelled, turned and jumped into the pool. There was a moment of shock, then the others followed rapidly, making a series of tremendous splashes as they attempted to outrun one another. The exception was Darla Jean, who hesitated theatrically and was thus last -- but she had a reason; it seemed like a fine way to get that examination in... "You're it, Darla Jean!" Jimmy caroled over the squeals of the others exclaiming at the water's cool temperature. "Oh, all right!" Darla Jean pretended to be mildly disgruntled, then proceeded to go through the obligatory antics designed to disorient her and allow the others to take up positions. While Darla Jean had eight potential victims, she was only really interested in four of them; add to that the fact that the pool had originally been designed for municipal use and Darla Jean's task became difficult. When, after the first couple of minutes, it became apparent that the task would be difficult, Jimmy started crowding Amy in an effort to get her caught, which made for some noise. Thelma, being a non-swimmer and not comfortable with the environment, tended to slosh and splash noisily enough that she was the easiest target; Darla Jean had to make some spectacular last-minute blunders when slitted eyes allowed her to discover that she was set on the wrong target. ------- Chapter 39B: Show and Tell at the Pool Relative safety and Jimmy's example encouraged more horseplay, and Stick started pressing Mary, who was surprisingly good at making virtually no noise at all when she moved. After a couple of minutes of limited success, he pulled Teddy into the conspiracy, too, the pair making loud splashes in the vicinity of Mary and diving away. But it was Danny who eventually blundered into Darla Jean's man-trap while trying to guard Thelma. Darla Jean picked him up interspersing himself between her and his lady love, made a wild, diving grab, and came up with Danny's hip in one hand and his stiff erection in the other, "Gotcha!" "Holy shit!" Danny roared, surprised, but Jimmy nearly bent double, laughing. "Well, if you're gonna play naked... Goodies are on-limits, everybody! Prepare to be felt up!" This brought a number of joyful shrieks, and some activity that had been heretofore surreptitious came out into the open. "Help! I'm drowning! I need a flotation device!" Jimmy yelled and began splashing after Amy his hands out questing for her breasts. "Thelma, do you need anything while I've got him by the balls?" Darla Jean inquired, eyes dancing. Besides, this gave her further opportunity to feel poor Danny up... "Jeez! Don't hurt 'em! I need that thing in full working order!" Thelma giggled. "Well, okay." Turning to Danny, she added, "You're it, right? You admit it?" She gave him a gentle tug, jacking him more than anything else. "Yeah, yeah, I'm it, I'm it!" Danny agreed. "You got me! Leggo!" Darla Jean did so and withdrew, grinning, and Danny got started, dunking and spinning while everyone else thrashed to new positions. "That took forever," Randall noted quietly, slipping up next to Darla Jean. "It's a big pool," Darla Jean replied, "and there are relatively few people in it." "And only half of them are male," Randall added softly. Darla Jean flashed him a look; had she been that obvious? Pitching his voice louder, Randall added, "New rule! Danny, you have to catch a girl! When you're it, you have to catch somebody of the opposite sex!" "Kewl!" Jimmy hollered gleefully. Stick grinned from ear to ear; Mary rolled her eyes, but didn't argue, and Amy laughed. Darla Jean murmured quietly, "Why did you do that?" Randall shrugged, grinning, "It seemed like a good idea... Why should everyone else have an easier time of it?" Darla Jean's stomach lurched. Fact was, Darla Jean HAD tipped her hand to anyone watching closely; Mary was suspicious, but she wasn't sure because Stick had started messing with her, and almost everyone else had been similarly distracted. But Randall had been watching Darla Jean and ONLY Darla Jean; he not only knew that she had been limiting herself to males, but that Danny had been a choice based upon desperation -- she'd been shooting for Stick or Teddy! Randall dropped behind Darla Jean, but then an arm snaked around her waist, and his voice hissed in her ear, "Tell me!" There was a hot iron bar between the cheeks of her ass, cool water notwithstanding. Watching Danny get under way and trying to struggle free quietly, she whispered, "Tell you what?" "Why?" Darla Jean began slowly moving to her left to avoid Danny's blundering threat; Randall stayed with her, matching her, move for move, and not pulling away. "Let me go!" She went to work on his encircling arm. "Not until you tell me. I can tell THEM, you know..." "I can't! You won't understand!" "Shhh. Back with me." Randall began backing off, pulling her with him. Darla Jean stopped fighting -- the surface reason being the noise it would make in front of an already alert Danny. She dropped her arm over his, clasping herself to him as he quietly backed them off. Still, it took an altercation between Mary, Stick, and Teddy resulting in a loud splash off to Danny's left to get him off the scent. They were left in deep water -- as tall as she was, Darla Jean's feet weren't touching bottom; she was now dependent upon her clinch with Randall to keep her head above water. Now," Randall breathed, "or I'll dunk you AND I'll tell the others!" "Randall!" Darla Jean was amazed! This wasn't the Randall she knew! Then again, a little bit of admiration leaked out of the cocktail of mixed emotions whirling through her. She glanced around, and Randall wasn't the only boy present giving a girl a hard time, or even the worst; Jimmy was belaboring Amy from the front -- either she was defending her breasts or trying to keep from being pushed over backwards, or both. Teddy had one of Mary's arms and Stick the other, and Stick's free arm dipped suspiciously into Mary's crotch. Only Thelma was free in the water, and she was operating in a narrow band where the depth rose only to between her waist and mid chest; she'd seceded full view of her small breasts for the ability to operate at what she considered a comfortable water level. Still, Randall's grip on Darla Jean pressed his considerable erection against her ass in a VERY familiar manner. On the other hand, they HAD slept together -- and it wasn't as if she had ruled out further occurrences. But... "That's blackmail!" "Yeah," Randall conceded, "but I need to know. Five seconds." He deliberately dipped her a bit, reinforcing the threat. "Why?" Randall paused. Should he tell her? No, not now -- it might alter her answer. "No more delays. Four... Three..." Darla Jean cast about desperately, "It's... data collection!" "Data collection?" Randall's grip relaxed as he pondered this, but not enough. Then he glanced up. "Danny's coming. Turn around and wrap your legs around me, quick!" "Let me go! I told you what you wanted!" "Not enough. How about I hand you to him?" Danny was looming. "Okay, loosen up a bit." Darla Jean turned and wrapped her legs around his waist -- which pinned the tip of his lengthy erection against the area between her nether lips and her anus (an area suddenly discovered to be highly sensitive) -- and Randall quietly backed them off into even deeper water. Absolute silence reigned while Danny, facing increasing difficulty with the depth of the water and a drop-off in noise, quested here and there close by before Amy fell over backwards attempting to evade Jimmy, creating a loud splashing ruckus that promised better hunting. Danny rushed off. Randall drifted to his right, maintaining the depth -- he was basically holding them on tiptoe -- and murmured, "Okay, keep it coming." "Well, I need a bigger dataset. They're all so different!" "You need more than one?" Randall asked. What would she say? "No. At least I don't THINK so -- if it's the RIGHT one!" This wasn't going well... "And you haven't found it? Most girls settle for one at a time..." Randall chided. This DEFINITELY wasn't going well... "There isn't a lot of scientific method to that. It's just settling -- and the divorce rate says THAT doesn't work. I'm not even sure exactly what I need, yet!" Randall absorbed this. "Dwayne was data collection?" "Yes. It's kind of embarrassing -- I needed a direct comparison, soon after... I told you Dwayne was never under consideration for a relationship..." "And Ted?" Randall looked up and began slowly drifting left again. Both murmured "Polo," in response to Danny's ping. "Ted was..." What? An accident? "Ted wasn't supposed to happen -- but I still got data." "And both of them at the same time?" "Randall, that's not fair!" The pair were nose to nose, and Randall was poker-faced. "THAT was unexpected, too!" "But you got data from it. Will you be repeating that particular experiment?" Darla Jean glared at him, furious. "Okay, okay. What about these guys?" "What about them?" "Do you plan to..." "No!" Darla Jean tried to pull herself away, but Randall wouldn't allow it. "They're all taken -- I can get THAT information second-hand! Let me go!" "No." Darla Jean continued to struggle in her embarrassment; Randall added, "Hear me out, will you?" "Why should I? I can imagine what you think of me!" Darla Jean ranted. "Apparently, you can't!" Randall looked up and began moving as rapidly to his right as he could and continue to be silent. Darla Jean turned around to assess the threat and shut up -- Danny had been drawn by their conversation again. Randall managed to get about ninety degrees to Danny and began sidling along the pool edge toward shallower water. At about that point, Mary screeched, "Stick! Get your..." There was more to it, including an intense expression as Mary finished in a sibilant whisper, and it attracted Danny away from his blind quest in the area Randall and Darla Jean had so recently occupied. The threat dissipated, Darla Jean turned back to Randall. "What does THAT mean?" Randall started sidling toward deeper water again; he didn't want Darla Jean going anywhere yet. "It means that I understand; we both kind of approached the idea last Saturday morning that we needed further experience. I've... been busier than expected, too." "So I hear..." "It's all kind of embarrassing; in some ways, I wish I didn't have to deal with it. Bottom line is that you're not the only one experimenting this week; you're not even the only GIRL doing it! Unless you have had an adventure that hasn't gotten out, we're about even." He burned a moment checking their surroundings, then sighed, "Look, I don't know how to ask you this, but do you have any preliminary conclusions?" "Do YOU?" "Yeah, but if you can't give any ground, I can't either!" Randall frowned. "All right; it's not the only dimension -- I can't expect to just do sex with a girl. If I can't carry on a decent conversation afterward, I can't even look forward to it. Well, that might change once I've done without again for a while, but I can't do a relationship that way." Darla Jean nodded pensively. "Me neither. What about your dataset?" Randall shrugged. "There wasn't much in the way of competition. You?" Darla Jean sighed. "The same. But there is a problem." "What?" "I... need to collect more data." "Oh." Randall assumed a deflated look. "Look, that doesn't mean..." "What?" "It doesn't mean I think I can do better, but -- oh, you'll think I'm a total slut!" She turned her head. "My mother surprised me recently -- she took the whole Dwayne and Ted thing in stride and said she'd been positively wild at my age. The apple hasn't fallen far from the tree, I guess..." "So, you want to get a little wild?" Randall asked. "Well, yeah. Experience things, you know?" Darla Jean could NOT look Randall in the eye. "So the relationship thing is out." "Well..." "Well, what?" "That's not up to me." "Meaning?" "Randall, this is HARD..." Darla Jean gathered herself, "I can't ask you to put up with..." Randall chuckled, "You getting your sample?" "Yes." "Maybe I won't mind... I like to think that I'm capable of being rational about such things." He eyed her, "What about me? Would I be able to collect MY sample?" "That's fair." Darla Jean's eyes slid away again, "Some things might take both of us." "Um, yeah," Randall replied distantly, while he thought about possible permutations. "We'll need ground rules." Darla Jean opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a loud squeal as Danny collected Thelma. The uproar ending Danny's turn allowed others to talk, and Jimmy yelled, "Hey, what are you two doing over there?" "Who wants to know?" Randall returned. "Looks pretty cozy from here!" Jimmy chuckled. "I've heard you two -- if you go at it, you'll get caught!" Darla Jean put up a brief struggle, but Randall wasn't having any. "We still have things to talk about -- screw them!" Pitching his voice to carry, he replied to Jimmy, "You have a dirty mind, is all. I'm taller than Darla Jean, so she can go deeper if she hangs on. Besides, what the Hell was Stick doing to Mary? And was that patty-cake that got Amy all wet?" "Don't tell him!" Mary screeched, plowing for deeper water, the boys' grip on her arms momentarily broken. "Awright, awright!" Jimmy grinned. "Go ahead and get started, Thelma!" "What do I..." Thelma began, but Danny came up and began providing instructions. "Stick my head... !" More mumbles. "Can't I just... ?" Danny looked up, "Guys, Thel doesn't do water. She's kinda scared. Can't I just spin her around or something?" Everyone glanced around, collecting agreement. "Sure," Jimmy replied. "She has to stand still with her hands over her ears for fifteen seconds so you can get clear." "Okay." "Boys, Thelma," Jimmy added. "You're hunting boys!" Everyone laughed. There was a lot of splashing as Mary's boys started chasing her and Danny started disorienting Thelma. Randall shifted to his left as Mary started crowding him. Darla Jean, watching things over her shoulder, murmured, "What kind of ground rules?" "Umm, well, we need to be honest with each other. I guess..." He pondered a moment. "I guess if one of us wants to do something that might bother the other one, there is no veto, but he or she should be informed, anyway. If you want to do things I can't handle -- or vice-versa -- we'll just have to deal with the consequences." "Do you have anything in mind?" Darla Jean asked. "Noooo," Randall replied. "I like to think I'm open-minded. What about you?" "Ummm," Darla Jean glanced over at Mary, Stick, and Teddy. "No, nothing in particular. What's good for the goose is good for the gander, I guess. What if one of us wants to see the other do something... ?" Randall's glance followed Darla Jeans. Did she mean doubling up, or queer-bait stuff? "I... really hope we can, umm, operate on a higher plane. You should be able to ask, and you should be able to say no. And if one of us asks, and the other says no, they should respect that, but if they want to go elsewhere to get that particular thing, that should also be okay." "That's... pretty open..." "Well, yeah," Randall replied. "But sex isn't the relationship. It's part of it, and it needs to be a good part -- a BIG part -- but we're looking at emotional attachment and friendship -- that kind of thing. Other dimensions. We should be doing romance, teamwork, friendship, mutual dependence. Sex between us should incorporate those other things, and sex with others, when we do it, should not; if it does, then maybe we have an issue -- but we can deal with that if and when it happens." "Maybe you can have those things with more than one person..." Darla Jean remarked, watching Mary wrestle with Stick as Teddy looked on, grinning. Randall stopped, thought about it. "Maybe. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Shhh, now..." Thelma was counting to fifteen. Turn us around," Darla Jean directed. "Why?" "Thelma's chasing boys. Not fair for you to hide behind me." Randall did as he was told. "Back up a bit -- she'll never go this deep." Randall backed until both their nipples were exposed. "Anything else?" "Ummm, we don't embarrass one another. Try to keep things low-key. When you plan to do something, you tell the other person so nobody gets surprised and hurt. They can't say no, but they should be aware. If anything spur of the moment happens, you pass the word as quickly as possible. Honesty and communication. If one of us can't take the heat, well..." "Well?" "I guess then it's time to negotiate. Ultimately, there is a trade- off to commitment -- but it shouldn't be blackmail. I... can't think of anything that you'd do that I couldn't put up with once -- but it could happen..." There was a loud splash to Randall's right, someone moving rapidly across the pool -- right through Thelma's narrow operating area. It was Teddy. A moment before, Mary had whispered to Stick and Teddy, "Thelma's never going to go too deep, so she's limited. We could all avoid her, just by going over there..." She nodded at the deep end. "Darla Jean just made Randall move into Thelma's zone; I think we oughta zip through every once in a while and give her a shot." Teddy had nodded and gone barreling across the pool, sweeping around Thelma and making LOTS of noise. "What's going on?" Randall asked. "They're giving Thelma something to shoot at," Darla Jean replied. "We're making enough noise, talking, though." Even a whisper carried enough to know something was up in utter silence. "So, if there is something you can't put up with?" Randall shrugged. "Well, it might be YOU that can't!" he responded, even though he wasn't at all sure of it. "In any case, then I guess you have to make the call whether that particular thing is worth dissolving the relationship or not. It shouldn't be a first pass thing, though -- that's childish, and it's blackmail. I don't see it happening over a single experiment -- even repeated. It'd probably end up being something one of us decides they like to do regularly that the other can't handle." He frowned. "I think that'd kill things, anyway." He eyed her. "Sound fair? Can you handle that kind of thing? It's not just me..." From Randall's viewpoint, this was just bluster, but if she was going to play by different rules, he needed to know, now! "That's a pretty serious commitment," Darla Jean murmured, but she was smiling. "No jealousy? Live and let live? Watch that column of girls cycle through Stud Braithewaite's revolving door?" Randall rolled his eyes. "Well, I think it's worth a try. If the basics aren't going to work, I think we're going to figure that out pretty quickly, don't you?" "Yeah, I think so. How do you want to seal the deal?" "Kissing is good." Darla Jean offered her lips, and Randall tilted his head to take them. The action caused him to hunch a bit, which brought a solid reminder of other things -- namely the erection poking her in the area between her twat and her anus. The thing had been bumping her -- perhaps with his pulse, or maybe in unconscious reaction to things that they said -- for several minutes, disconcerting her at the oddest times. Now it was solidly in contact -- and the area was EXTREMELY sensitive! She started to wriggle -- which only made things worse. Breaking the kiss, she murmured, "I've got an even better idea..." "Hmmm?" Randall was distracted, both by the kiss and from sensing the contact from his own perspective. Man, that wiggling! If she'd just move a little bit... Darla Jean moved, pushing her ass back and rubbing his blunt glans along her labia. Then she started wriggling again. It didn't take much -- almost immediately, her inner lips opened to admit him to the pink groove that ran from her clitoris to her vaginal opening. "Back off a little more, so I can drop lower," she husked. "Here?" he grunted. Like he was going to stop her. He started backing. "Might as well," she husked, more wriggling seating his glans in her opening. "At best, it'll be two iterations before I can play again. This way..." Randall groaned as she began to absorb him. "You're almost sure to get caught..." "What if... ?" Randall's mind blanked as his glans slipped inside the warm, wet tunnel. Darla Jean had her head back, eyes closed, savoring the penetration. The water was only so-so as a lubricant -- it worked, and it didn't. Darla Jean settled slowly, both of them feeling every millimeter of the slow march of the insertion. Amy saw Darla Jean throw her head back and nudged Jimmy. "Okay," Jimmy chortled, "NOW they're fucking! Woo Hoo!" Stick, Mary, and Teddy applauded and catcalled. Thelma spun in all directions, trying to get a bead on the closest noisemaker. Darla Jean started panting. "What if what?" she gasped. Randall started lifting her and lowering her, slowly -- which was all that the water would allow. "What if... we don't... finish?" Darla Jean tucked her head into his shoulder. "We'll finish," she gasped. "Later, maybe, but... I promise." The friction was incredible. The water didn't allow it to burn, but it wasn't slick, either. Her tunnel felt and grappled with every ridge and bump... "Maybe better later. Now you need to... help me..." "What if I... don't want to?" Randall gasped. Slow and bumpy or not, this was intense! "You already promised..." Had he? Yes, he had -- it was implicit in their commitment. "Guess I did." He put more power into lifting her -- and Darla Jean started using her hips and knees. There was no way the activity could continue to be silent -- and it wasn't. "I dunno... how long..." Darla Jean opened her eyes. Everyone else in the pool was standing still, watching -- except Thelma, who was approaching, head cocked. "Go ahead," she gasped. "I won't make it, now, but later..." She began clasping her vagina, and bouncing even more vigorously, "Cummmm..." Randall's attempt to limit himself to a strained grunt was a waste of time; Thelma touched his back just as he let go! "EEYAAAAHHH!" he yelped -- in surprise, more than anything else. He leaped in surprise, then crushed himself to Darla Jean as his seed pulsed from him Randall's surprised leap smashed his groin into Darla Jean's, and his follow-up crush and the excitement brought her a small pop, too, which surprised her, "Uungh!" She clutched herself to him. "Feel 'em up! Feel 'em up! Feel 'em up!"Jimmy chanted gleefully. "Yeah, see what they're doin'!" Stick egged Thelma on. Danny nodded, grinning and Thelma eyed the pair's underwater joining, hard, from close up, then slipped her hand between Randall's spread legs from behind. Randall's balls were in the way, so she rapidly but gently worked her hand past them to try to get a grip on Randall's root -- but there was none to be had, since the next thing she felt was Darla Jean... Snatching her hand back as if it were burned, Thelma erupted, "Omigawd! They really ARE!" Whoops, shrieks, and catcalls filled the pool area. Randall, shock adding to his embarrassment, turned bright red, but Darla Jean merely smiled a Mona Lisa smile and bored in for a kiss. When they broke, she murmured, "Walk me over to the edge? We don't want to mess up Jimmy's pool any more than we have to..." Something had snapped in Darla Jean as she watched Thelma boring down on them and realized they were going to get caught. Any tendency to fear and embarrassment had fled, replaced by an exhibitionistic thrill. The wild games, the insane happenings in the boy's locker room, the thrills and Randall's clear, sober acceptance and support combined to unlock all of Darla Jean's doors. Sex was fun, these were her friends, and she had a boy -- no, a MAN -- who wanted her. She didn't HAVE to hide -- in fact, she could even show off! "Okay, it's your turn!" Thelma pressed. "Sure, one second!" Randall agreed, and started slogging toward the shallows. This made Darla Jean's position VERY clear, eliciting a second round of catcalls. Darla Jean just smiled over his shoulder. At the corner steps, Randall lifted Darla Jean off him and placed her on the pool edge while she covered her twat with a hand to discourage drips. As Darla Jean started to get up, Jimmy yelled, "Drag him back by his dick!" Thelma, caught up in the game and beyond personal embarrassment, took a look and snatched her hand back. "Ewwww! I'm not touching THAT! It's gooey!" The group screamed laughter. Darla Jean crooked a finger at Randall and waddled to the steps, holding her crotch. Randall gingerly followed and came up the steps until he was standing on the top one. Darla Jean put her hand on his hip, and without ceremony, leaned forward and engulfed his cock. There was a shocked gasp as Randall threw his head back -- he was still VERY sensitive from his recent orgasm -- and dead silence as she milked him with her lips once, then withdrew and vacuumed along his shaft with her wide lips. Rising, she swallowed and complained, "Yuck! Chlorine!" then addressed Thelma, "Okay, it's clean now! Don't break it -- it's mine!" She got up and waddled toward the pool house, adding gaily "Wait for me -- I'll be right back!" "Omigawd!" Mary erupted against the background of whoops and laughter, "I'll be back -- I've gotta pee!" She started plowing toward the steps. "Go ahead, Thel," Amy encouraged, laughing, and Thelma gingerly wrapped her hand around Randall's hard-on. Randall's meat hadn't had a chance to go down, and wrapping a hand around his cock certainly didn't encourage it to droop; Thelma gently oriented him and urged him along, while reflecting that he was obviously another cock-monster like Jimmy; she could have used both hands on his rock-hard shaft and still not covered everything... Mary left the pool so intent on her target that she didn't even bother with a towel; Stick watched her departure and murmured to Teddy, "Somethin's up..." Teddy nodded agreement. Amy was watching Jimmy, who had really cut loose this evening. Obviously, he didn't want the departure of the two girls to cast a pall on things, so she started a running commentary designed to hold up the girls' end despite the fact that there were only two girls, egging Thelma on and harassing poor Randall. Mary found Darla Jean in the bathroom, trying to push out Randall's deposit, "What happened to YOU? I created a monster!" Darla Jean smiled. "Well, maybe you just let one out." "Were you cheating out there?" Mary accused. "Yes." "Why?" "I want to... feel them all." "Feel? As in fuck?" Mary asked suspiciously. "No, they're taken," Darla Jean shrugged. "I just wanted to experience variety." "Hon, I never meant to make you a slut..." Mary apologized. "You didn't," Darla Jean replied. "It was there all along. I had a surprising talk with my mother the other day -- she says she was absolutely wild at school, and Dad had his work cut out for him settling her down." "Oh." Mary pondered this. "Well, you're gonna get one helluva rep..." "They're all friends," Darla Jean replied. "This game makes things kind of privileged. We worked to embarrass everybody equally -- I have my blackmail material, too! Besides, I'm just looking to touch..." "And you and Randall?" Darla Jean wiped and got up, surrendering the toilet to Mary. "He's intelligent, sophisticated, and tolerant -- at least he THINKS he is, and I HOPE he is! We're starting a relationship -- sort of semi-exclusive, like you suggested." Mary concentrated until she got a trickle going, then asked, "Semi- exclusive gonna work, then?" Darla Jean shrugged. "We're both scientifically trained; neither of us wants a pig in a poke. So we both want to experiment. On the other hand, we seem to be well-matched emotionally and intellectually, and open- minded enough to put up with experimentation. We've kind of set some ground rules to keep communication flowing and not embarrass one another, but the plan is to be there for each other. Love... love isn't the same when you think about things the way Randall and I do. We're logical types -- dispassionate, objective. Neither of us is inclined to toss logic out the window and ride on the wings of wild emotions." Mary collected a wad of paper and wiped. "It's a lot more fun if you do." "Well, I think we're already started, but the takeoff is slower. We're still busy checking our parachutes and stuff. But once we get going, I expect a long, smooth flight." Mary nodded. "What's the plan for tonight?" "Well, I want to try to get a little more mileage out of this unique opportunity, so you can guess who Randall is going to catch. Then somehow, somewhere, we're gonna do a lot better job on one another than we just did in the pool!" Mary pondered this. "How ready do you think Randall is for wild stuff?" "Well, we just got pretty wild in the pool..." Darla Jean hazarded. "Concentrate on Jimmy, then. If you're not gonna try to steal my boys, I think I can promise you a lot more than a quick grope." "REALLY?" They were outside already when Darla Jean turned to Mary in surprise. "I'm not promising anything, but we might arrange a bit more show and tell. I've got a few mild worries, but I think I'm safe from you. On the other hand, if you give them ideas and they go looking for something better, I'm not gonna be happy..." Mary murmured, keeping her voice down. "I have Randall. He's all I want to keep," Darla Jean insisted. "Okay. I'll give you the high sign if things look good," Mary replied. "I need to talk to the boys -- or at least Stick." "Okay." The pair descended the stairs into the water before Darla Jean caught Mary's arm, "Mary, does Stick... run things?" Mary smiled. "Let's just say he's first among equals." She launched herself and began swimming toward her boyfriends. "Awright, everybody's here! Le's get on with it!" Stick yelled. "Woo hoo!" Jimmy chortled. Thelma gave Randall a couple of spins then headed off toward Danny. Darla Jean stayed in the shallows while Randall dunked himself and worked on further disorientation. Danny gathered Thelma in and kissed her, then murmured, "Are you gonna want to stay down on the farm, now that you've seen New York?" "Huh?" Thelma replied, mystified. "You spent a while playin' with Randall's fire hose..." "Oh, THAT!" Thelma waved it off. "If I wanted THAT, we could buy horses!" She worried his neck with her lips. "You want to do what they did?" "Naw," Danny replied. "I want to do a GOOD job, later! But I can still carry you, and maybe rub you off..." "Ummm, no rubbing -- I'm a screamer." ------- Chapter 40: Draper and Tenisha Experience Wilson Hospitality The end credits for the second film of the double feature rolled up the big screen at the drive-in, and Nate reflected that the outing hadn't lived up to expectation, despite the improvement in seating. Everyone was in disarray, and both girls had received finger-driven orgasms -- Tenisha had had two, and she was LOUD about it! Nora had drained his balls, and it had been pretty good; from the sucking sounds in the back seat, Draper was getting worked over pretty good, too -- but Nate wanted pussy, and that hadn't happened. Something about the cramped confines of the minivan had inhibited them all to the point that neither girl had draped her legs over a seat back and begged to get pounded, and neither of the boys had attempted to force the issue. "We gotta go, you two," he called over his shoulder, getting ready to move to the front seat. "Shit!" Draper grunted. Tenisha pulled her mouth off his erection and said, "I'll get it, Baby -- promise!" Nora turned to regard the pair over the back of the middle seat, eyes alight. "More practice?" "Naw, she's a damn fine..." Draper abruptly shut up. "Cocksucker, Baby?" Tenisha filled in, apparently unembarrassed. "Yeah, that's it. Didn't seem right..." Draper paused a moment and smiled at his narrow woman. "But I was lookin' forward ta some..." "Pussy?" Tenisha finished, teasing. "Jeez, Baby, don't you know those words?" "I'm TRYIN' ta be NICE!" Draper complained, wounded. "And I appreciate it, Lover, but us Porter gals are up-front about sex. You oughta know that by now!" "To be honest, I was, too," Nate murmured. There -- it was out. "That makes it unanimous," Nora agreed. "Let's go to my house, then!" "Nora, your Daddy's house..." Nate warned. "In some ways, it's no worse than the old place -- we just didn't know it..." Nora replied, then turned to the couple in the rear seat. "Look, you guys. You've seen Daddy's house. I'm sure it was a surprise -- it was a surprise to ME, too! We can got to Daddy's house, and pretty much do whatever we want -- but, well, there is occasional video surveillance..." Draper frowned. "You mean like tapes? Cameras?" "Yes," Nora nodded. "And I don't know where they are, so I can't tell you it's not happening." "Why's he do that? Blackmail?" Draper wondered. "It's complicated," Nora replied. "I guess he's a bit of a voyeur. There are other reasons -- security and such -- and Daddy used to have Mom and I watched constantly for our protection. But some of it is purely that he likes to watch others, I think." "Nora's Daddy is inta some heavy-duty strange shit," Nate revealed. "I told Draper a couple of things..." "Like the naked chicks?" Draper asked. "Yeh, like that," Nate agreed. "Naked chicks?" Tenisha echoed. Nate and Nora locked glances. Nora took a breath and the lead, "Tenisha, Daddy is into some edgy stuff, sexually. For one thing, he keeps a couple of, well, sex slaves, who run around the house naked. And he has a torture chamber..." "WOW!" Tenisha's eyes popped. "I can't show you that, and Daddy will probably keep the slaves under wraps, but Nate has seen them. We figure if you go to my house, you should be warned -- it's not your average place." "Man, I dunno," Draper murmured. "Bein' watched..." "Ummm, Draper?" Nora murmured diffidently, "I bet it has already happened..." "HUH?!" Draper's eyes bugged. "Remember last weekend at my old house?" Nora amplified. "Well, Daddy SAYS that he doesn't look at everything that goes on at his place, but -- and I didn't know it, or we'd never have played there -- he had our old house wired EVERYWHERE! And people watched Mom and I twenty-four hours a day!" "Muthafuck!" Draper wheezed. He turned to Nate. "An' you put up wit' that?" Nate shrugged. "Can't stop it. An' by the time I found out, it was too late! 'Sides, it's come in handy -- I woulda probably been skinned and put up on Rodday's wall a coupla days ago if nobody was watchin' us. He hasn't yelled at me yet for anything I done... What's he gonna do, blackmail me? For what? I got nuthin' -- 'cept Nora." Tenisha was a lot more subdued. Rubbing Draper's arm, she murmured, "Relax, Baby. It's the same for us -- everybody knows about us, so we can't be blackmailed. It might even be cool to watch..." " 'Nisha!" Draper was scandalized. "Aww, c'mon, Baby! You ought to see that look you get on your face when you cum! It's so cute!" Tenisha teased. "Well, we gotta go back to there, anyway," Nate muttered. "Nora's folks pretty much said that since everyone knows you two are fuckin' anyway, we can do mos' anything we want -- but if that freaks ya, y'all can just go on home..." He raised the driver's seatback and climbed into it, firing up the van. Nora grinned over the seat back at Tenisha, "I'm SURE what we did last weekend is on a disk somewhere..." "Kewl..." Tenisha grinned. Draper was almost purple. Nate turned around, "Man, you gotta lighten up! I TOLD ya -- we get followed EVERYWHERE! That includes HERE!" "Whatthefuck?" Draper was staring around wildly. "You think YOU'RE embarrassed," Nora related. "Daddy has said things that lead me to believe that his people are so good that they have Nate and I together at Tenisha's house on Prom night!" "Oh... my... GOD!" Tenisha exclaimed, eyes bugged. "Did they video us?" "I don't know -- but I imagine only while we were all in the same room..." Nora guessed. "It's your house, after all, and they couldn't have planned anything, because we didn't. If it'd been MY house, they'd have gotten everything, though, I bet." Nate rubbed his forehead, shaking his head in resignation. There'd been enough damage; Nora moved into the other front seat and let Tenisha and Draper work their way through the issue in whispers in the back. ------- It wasn't over when they got to the mansion. "Guess I'll get my car," Draper grunted. "You don't have to," a voice said from the door. "You're welcome in my home." Draper looked up. The dude in the doorway wasn't big, but he gave off this power thing that said you didn't fuck with him. "I dunno..." "If Nora briefed you on what goes on here as I recommended, I can understand your reticence, but I would prefer that neither she nor Mr. Adams lose friends over it. What bothers you, in particular?" Draper couldn't seem to slide out from under, sooo... "Bein' watched." "I understand. However, we've had a couple of incidents lately that more or less demanded it. Here, however, private areas are only monitored by me -- and due to time constraints, only on an ad-hoc basis." "Ah-hoc?" "When it appears to be necessary. Periodic." It sounded like he was sayin' he wouldn't peek, but how honest was he? "I hear you mighta caught us at Nora's..." "Did catch you," Armand confirmed. "Events in that house were VERY closely monitored, and not only by myself, but by a surveillance team in my employ. Nora's mother wasn't thrilled, but events justified my interest." "Oh?" Draper blinked. "Yes -- nothing to do with you. Nora and her mother now live here because of an incident there. Why don't you come inside and we can socialize more comfortably?" Armand offered genially. Draper was still reluctant, but Tenisha moved forward, towing him by the hand. "Thank you, Mr. Wilson." Nora and Nate followed. Leticia was stationed just inside the door. Armand turned to her and directed, "Have refreshments brought to the Media Room. And have Sharon join us there." "Sir." Leticia nodded and Armand led the group off. Draper dropped back and flicked a glance at Nate, "Sex slave?" Nate shook his head, grinning. "You'll know 'em when you see 'em. Do you really want to? Tell Nora's daddy -- you're the one freakin'!" Meanwhile, Leticia favored Draper with a flat glare. "Pissed her off," Nate chuckled. "She didn't take a shine to me, either, but somebody jacked her up and she's been as nice as pie..." The boys hurried to catch up with their girlfriends. In the meantime, things began to move forward according to standing orders given by Armand after the interview with Nate and Nora earlier that evening, somewhat modified by the data that came in from the security team shadowing Nate and Nora at the drive-in. It was no accident that Armand was at the door on their arrival; Nora suspected as much from how the conversation seemed to play, but no one else appeared to notice. He was well aware that Draper was vastly unhappy over the surveillance revelations. The Wench was confined to her cell unless called for, and was currently practicing her fellatio under Charles' tutelage. Velma had been called (just before she planned to retire for the evening) and was in the kitchen preparing snacks, which Consuelo and Leticia were to deliver. Leticia punched the intercom, "Miz Sharon, Mr. Wilson would like for you to join him, your daughter, and her guests in the Media Room." "On my way," Sharon's voice issued from the speaker. Leticia let up on the button and murmured, "Don't that girl have any WHITE friends?" Her timing was exceedingly poor; Jason's voice sounded behind her, "What was that?" "Uuuhhh, nothing Sir!" Leticia did NOT want to get in it with Jason! "I suggest that you keep your opinions to yourself!" Jason replied. "It appears that Miss Nora is somewhat more racially tolerant than YOU!" Leticia said nothing, but Jason detected the will to make a comment being telegraphed. He nodded for her to get out of his sight, and Leticia did so gratefully, but 'white ho' was the epithet that trickled through her mind... Jason headed for the Media Room. On the arrival of the main group, Armand waved to various seats, and the couples took them. Draper opened up with "So what happened at Nora's, if you don't mind my askin'?" Armand seated himself in a recliner. "Sharon was raped in her home by a group of at least three individuals, last Sunday afternoon. As Nate's mother was accosted very graphically later that night, I have been investigating to see whether the attacks were related. Apparently, they were not." "Video didn't help?" Draper asked. "Well, it did and it didn't," Armand replied, delivering the official version. "When it was cut, we knew something was wrong. When the support team also went off-line, we knew it was serious, and upgraded our response." Sharon entered the room at that point. Draper looked at her like he expected her to be severely injured, "You okay, Ma'am?" "Yes, I'm fine," Sharon replied, puzzled. "I was relaying the events of last Sunday afternoon," Armand amplified. "Oh," Sharon replied shortly. "No permanent damage." She turned to eye Armand. "I was offering it as justification for your surveillance," Armand explained. "I see." Sharon shut up, but was agitated. "So you saw... us?" Tenisha asked. "Yes." Armand replied. "And?" "Have you been practicing, since?" Armand's eyes were merry. Nate snorted laughter then tried to cover it. Tenisha held her ground, though. "Yeah. Maybe I should see it. Maybe it'd help." "Perhaps." Armand nodded approval. Drinks and snacks arrived, Consuelo leading Leticia into the room bearing drinks, Jason following. Armand turned and opened a case, dug around a bit and surfaced a DVD, then did it again. Crossing the room, he handed the DVD to Tenisha, "There are excellent viewing facilities in this room. Feel free to use them." He handed Nora the second DVD without a word; it had two words printed on the label -- 'Prom Night'. Nora eyed it in surprise, then set it down. "In fact, there is quite a library, in case other instructional material is warranted. Sharon, I recommend that you have Leticia make up a guest room, then join me in my apartments?" Draper was eyeing Consuelo. Catching Nate's eye, he nodded at her, eyebrows wiggling. Nate shook his head, grinning. Armand picked it up, "What's this?" "I, uuh, hear you keep... women..." Draper stammered. Armand pursed his lips and turned his regard on Nora and then Nate. "I'm assuming that you though that wise?" Nate took the hit. "I got a little carried away, warning them." "Well, we surprised YOU, didn't we?" Armand produced a minimalist grin. Nate shrugged. "I have a single slave at the moment, and Jason, here, has one of his own, also. Mine volunteered herself to my service. Since you are aware of her and her primary function involves servicing my houseguests, I guess there is no further reason to sequester her, is there?" Turning to Sharon, he directed, "Summon the Wench." Sharon rolled her eyes, but knew better than to argue. Jason stepped up to Armand and whispered to him briefly. Armand muttered, "Pardon me," and the pair stepped away. When they came back, Jason departed. Armand announced, "I have a small issue to attend to. Sharon, when the Wench arrives, make introductions, and then come to me in my quarters, as I require your assistance. Consuelo and the Wench are to service the needs of our guests..." Armand turned a leer on Tabitha, "... including demonstrations of fellating techniques, as requested. Nora, I imagine you can keep things reasonably controlled?" "Yes, Daddy," Nora sighed. Things always seemed to get out of hand. "As I indicated, your friends can stay the night. No doubt their parents should be informed..." Armand swept out, but paused in the doorway. "I generally conduct surveillance activities from this room. Obviously, I will not be occupying it..." He winked at Draper and disappeared beyond the door. A moment later, the Wench strode in and knelt at Sharon's feet. "Mistress? You sent for me?" "Actually, you Master did," Sharon replied flatly. "It appears that you are famous. You are to attend to the needs of Nora's guests." She swung around to glare at Nate and Nora, "I'll not bother to contradict your father, knowing what I'll get for it if I do. But this is YOUR party -- make sure I don't have to apologize to anyone for it." With that, she strode out. The Wench glanced around, "Do I dare ask?" Draper was bug-eyed. Nate was visibly wishing he'd kept his mouth shut. Tenisha kept blinking, blinking... Nora finally answered, eyeing her manicure, "We, uh, let it out that Daddy had a house slave. I'm afraid you're on display." "Yes, Mistress. Is there anything specific that I should be doing?" "Why don't you answer questions, for now. Consuelo, could I have another Coke?" Nora did her best to appear unperturbed. Turning to Tenisha and Draper, she added, "Go ahead, you guys. Don't be any too surprised at the answers..." "You're a slave?" Draper blurted. "Yes. I belong to Armand Wilson, my Master." "Why?" Tenisha wanted to know. "I discovered that serving my Master was a higher calling, I guess. I volunteered. I found that I enjoyed responding to the types of demands that he puts on me. I am... submissive to him." "What do you do?" Draper's question brought a smile of anticipation to Nora's lips. "I do whatever my Master commands," the Wench responded serenely. Discretion had her preparing to leave it at that, but Nora eyed her archly, and she continued, "My primary duties, as described by my Master, are to see to the needs of his guests." Tenisha's eyes flicked to Nora's. Nora was hiding her lower face behind her hands. Tenisha took the bait, "Needs?" "Yes, Miss. I'm not a servant -- I'm considered somewhat of a specialist. The needs I service would be primarily... sexual in nature..." "Ho lee shit!" Draper exploded. "So when Mr. Wilson said you could teach blowjobs, he wasn't fuckin' kiddin'?" The Wench blinked, pricked her ears. "I don't generally teach, but I'm sure I could... Would this be a demonstration, or tutoring?" Tenisha sat there, bug-eyed. "Oh, Lordy!" "Let's hold off," Nora interjected, trying to smooth things over. Nate, trying not to laugh, hiccuped. Nora eyed him, but addressed the others. "Any more questions?" Draper opened his mouth, but Nate beat him to it, "Bro, you gonna wish you was thinkin', instead of talkin'..." Draper shut his mouth with a clop and flicked his eyes at Tenisha. Nate was probably right; 'Nisha had this expression on her face... Tenisha flicked a glance at Nate, and shifted her eyes to Draper before addressing the Wench. "What did you do... before?" "I was a model." At Tenisha's nod, she realized that there had been a misunderstanding. "Not a porn queen, a runway fashion model. I had a portfolio of nudes -- every model does, since designers like to have a feel for how their clothing will drape -- but I didn't do films or pictorials for porn rags or anything. I modeled designer clothing." "Oh." Tenisha blinked. Well, given her build... Porn stars tended to have a lot more in the way of a chest, for one thing... "My master has never to my knowledge associated with porn actresses -- at least not after they were in porn. You see, I met my Master during his search for a replacement for Mistress Sharon." Draper looked mildly confused; Nora decided to enlighten him. "Mom and Daddy have been divorced almost as long as I've been alive. I've seen more of Daddy in the past week than in my whole life before that time! Daddy has kind of a revolving door for women looking to be the rich Mrs. Armand Wilson." The Wench nodded, "I entered via that door. My Master has standards. But he also likes to toy with his victims..." "I don't understand," Tenisha ventured. "Daddy hasn't had a whole lot of luck replacing Mom. Most women -- almost every one, to date, I guess -- were just looking for a free lunch. Daddy has no respect for that, and he teases them -- uses them, even abuses them -- to see how low they'll stoop. In fact, Daddy actually tortures some of them... You remember I SAID he had a torture chamber..." "A torture chamber? Really?" Tenisha's eyes swept to the Wench. "And..." "Yes," the Wench replied. "I have been tortured by my Master. That is where I learned that I enjoy the challenges he sets before me. That is where I learned that I truly wanted to be his." "Wow!" Tenisha recoiled. "That's..." "Weird?" the Wench offered. She shrugged. "It's undoubtedly that, but there are a large number of women out there who enjoy being mastered. Not everyone wants to be a wage-slave drone with female parts. I don't want to be equal; I want to serve!" "But, being beaten, abused..." Tenisha shook her head. "The challenge is to avoid it, to service my Master's needs perfectly, so that he has no reason to punish me. I deserve any punishment I get but failure is a punishment in and of itself!" the Wench declared. "So why are you and your Mom back here?" Draper asked. THAT should be a safe question... "Well, there are a couple of reasons," Nora replied. "One was last Sunday's attack; Daddy says he can't protect us as well anywhere else. But that's only one reason; Daddy was planning on having Mom move in here, anyway. Daddy says that when Nate and I got together, it more or less signaled that I'd grown up and it was time to see the real world. He says he left Mom and I basically alone while she was raising me because he couldn't provide a proper environment for raising a little girl -- I'd see too many things that little girls just shouldn't see, and I wouldn't be exposed enough to what is generally accepted as right and wrong. But I'm not a little girl any more, so he can show me things that aren't black and white. I guess it's best to say that he wanted me to have integrity, so he let Mom instill it -- but now he wants to show me how things REALLY work, so I don't get blinded by how things OUGHT to be." She took a sip of her soda. "As for Mom, well, she kept it a secret from me, but she's been seeing Daddy fairly regularly, all along. And Daddy's been treating her the way he always has -- sort of like the Wench, here. But Mom's a special case; Daddy likes his women to fight for a while before they give in, and Mom just does that naturally." She shook her head. "They're not married, and Daddy's not talking about remarrying her. She's more like a combination personal slave and head housekeeper, or something; Daddy has her running the household, but she is less than a servant to him..." "Your mother is Mistress here," the Wench volunteered, "whether Master admits it or not. She may be his slave, but she is very personally his slave -- and she is Mistress to all others under this roof. I predict that he will soon stop attracting other women to toy with..." "If your Momma's a slave..." Tenisha began. "That makes me one, too?" Nora finished. "Apparently not. According to Daddy, I'm answerable to both of them as their daughter, but I am a free woman and not to be treated as if I'm not." She mused a moment. "If I prove worthy, I may even end up heir to Daddy's business..." "That is true, Miss," the Wench agreed. "Of all the women in this household, only yourself and little Bianca are free women; the rest are servants or slaves -- some are both." "Little Bianca?" "She's the daughter of one of the servants -- actually, the woman is Jason's slave, but she is still a servant to my Master. Bianca is fourteen. She is also a free woman in that Master does not attempt to control her in any way -- but she is of course still subject to her mother's discipline. And of course, she is not Master's daughter." "Wow, this is gawdawful confusin'," Draper muttered. "I agree, Sir," the Wench murmured, "but it DOES work, in the main." She glanced around, businesslike, "So, what can I do for you? Can we get you anything? Would you like to see me do anything? I can certainly provide fellatio, if you'd like -- or even cunnilingus..." "What?" Tenisha yelped. "I am meant to provide entertainment to either sex, Miss..." Tenisha's eyes flicked to Nora, who answered, "No, we haven't -- and Nate hasn't, either. I think we'll just watch a movie or something, Wench -- and we'd prefer our privacy. Could you and Consuelo station yourselves nearby -- outside the door, say?" "Certainly, Miss. How about if I stay there, and we release Consuelo. I can always call her for you." "Good idea." Nora nodded. Consuelo curtsied and departed. "I will be kneeling outside," the Wench murmured. "Do whatever is comfortable, as long as you stay awake," Nora directed. The Wench bowed and closed the door. Nora got up and went to the controls of the video system and began to familiarize herself with the setup. It was custom, and as a result the controls were arranged pretty obviously. "What do you guys want to watch? Regular TV? Porn?" "I can't believe what I was hearing!" Tenisha muttered. "Why would anyone want to do that?" Nora shrugged. "She has her reasons, and they're good for her." "What do you have that's racy, Baby?" Nate asked. "Well, according to the directory, there is a bunch of stuff in that cabinet..." Nora pointed. "Daddy has the private stuff locked out, but professionally done porn is available. Tenisha?" "I'm a little shaky," Tenisha admitted. "She acted like she'd have..." Nora turned a serious expression on this girl who was a friend of a friend, "She would have -- I know. Trust me -- she's VERY SERIOUS about her job." The guys were digging through the cabinet. "Amateur stuff seems like the least offensive -- don't want to make the girls unhappy," Nate advised. Draper nodded. "An amateur flick, Honey?" "They're trying to baby us," Nora murmured aside to Tenisha, who had joined her. "That's fine, Honey, but we can take tougher stuff, if you guys want it." She giggled to Tenisha, whispering, "Watch this," then said to Nate, "Why don't you look for something gay or bisexual?" Both boys turned around as one, looking horrified, and Nora and Tenisha laughed out loud, "Gotcha!" After that, to get even, the boys picked out a compendium of deep- throat gag fucks, along with an amateur flick. "Here," Nate announced, delivering the pair of DVDs, "Pick one." Directly challenged, Nora mounted both in a changer. Tenisha silently handed her the DVD that apparently had last weekend's blowjob practice at Nora's, too, and she mounted that. The Prom night DVD, however, didn't get mounted. Nora queued up the gag-fuck DVD and went to sit on a couch with Nate. The thing didn't last; while the guys could have watched it alone, it was too starkly exploitative to foster any positive interest in the girls, and they recognized the fact immediately. After a bit, Nate quietly suggested that they move on to the amateur fare. Something about the amateur flick was romantic; at the very least, it was realistic. There were two couples in the first scene, one white and one Hispanic, and they basically stuck to their original partners while doing a little sixty-nine and then straight sex. It wasn't edgy fare, but they were real people, not models, and the reality tended to add a layer to things. The white girl was chunky, the Hispanic girl had small breasts -- and neither of the guys was hung like a horse. Some positions they tried obviously didn't work... But when the Hispanic girl came, everyone recognized a real orgasm, and it heightened the already existing sexual tension. "This is better than the fuckin' drive-in," Nate grunted. Nora's top was open and he was playing with her breasts while she sucked him, watching the flick while she bobbed up and down. On the other couch, Draper and Tenisha were in a full sixty-nine, Draper moaning into Tenisha's wet pussy while she tried to swallow his cock. For Draper, things were going about the way they had in the car -- Tenisha's mouth action was great, but not quite enough... Tenisha recognized the problem, too. The second scene was a black couple, and unfortunately suffered from problems that occur all too often in filming blacks under less than ideal conditions -- poor lighting. You could tell certain things were going on, but the details were murky... "I need help -- why don't you put on the other one?" she asked Nora. Nora hopped up and cued the third DVD; when she returned, Nate murmured, "Mouth is nice, but..." Nora grinned and snatched off her panties, then climbed atop Nate, who was stretched out on the couch. Fitting herself to him took only a moment, and they both sighed in pleasure as she impaled herself to the root. At that point, though, she nodded at the screen... Whoever created the content was good; they managed to split-screen the two couples seated on the couch and the video they were watching. Apparently, the thing was filmed with night-vision cameras, as detail was pretty good in the dark. They watched the boys shuck out of their jeans and the girls jack them while the first woman on screen took her abuse at the hands of the giant piece of meat she was trying to suck. Nora fast- forwarded the video to the point where the third scene provided real teaching points and the girls started working on the boys in earnest; Draper was just amazed at the whole thing. Watching himself while Tenisha dove on his dork was just... kinky... "There it is!" Tenisha giggled, and Draper watched embarrassed as his eyes popped on-screen and his antics and Tenisha's made it clear that he was shooting in her mouth. "Okay, so what did I do right?" Tenisha asked the group. Nora, slowly grinding herself against Nate, murmured, "Not sure -- maybe you just got lucky." The video moved on to concentrate on Nora's solo effort, which was somewhat embarrassing to her, but she was getting used to it. Nate, however, provided the first insight. "That's it, 'Nisha -- you're not doin' the whole thing on the stroke! You got to go down and come up, every time, not work short spots... Draper long-strokes you, don't he?" Tenisha popped off Draper's length, "Uh huh!" "Well, you got to long-stroke HIM when you're blowin' him!" On screen, Nora was trying to swallow Nate, and it was obviously effective. "See?" Tenisha saw something else -- in fact, she saw herself telling Nora to do it! She tilted her head back to give her a more open throat, just as Nora did on-screen. This resulted in kind of an arc where she was more or less horizontal while lipping Draper's glans then moved forward and tilted down as she took in the shaft. The effort moved her to the point that Draper couldn't stay engaged with her pussy, so he just lay back and enjoyed the action while watching Nora suck on-screen and bounce on Nate's lap in person. "Aaggh! That's workin'! I'm gettin' close!" Tenisha pushed herself even harder, trying to absorb Draper's length in its entirety -- but her throat just wouldn't do it. Still, she was working several inches, and supplementing it with a jacking grip at the base, and that was plenty. "I'm gonna blow!" Draper grunted, "AAAGGGGHHH!!!!" His cock got HUGE and HARD in her throat in the middle of a down stroke, and Tenisha pulled back just in time to have room in her mouth to hold the first jet of Draper's semen. Nora watched Draper jerk and heave, grunting as his balls spasmed, and Tenisha managing to grin in triumph around a mouthful of cock, but the stimulation got to be too much and her eyes went vacant as her attention turned to the bubble of pleasure growing inside her, "OoooOOOOOHHHH!" That wasn't quite it, but she couldn't stay silent. That and the grinding she was doing to his pubic bone told Nate she was about to pop, so he grinned and jammed himself upward, setting her off! "OOGH!! OOOGH!! OOOGH!!" she gasped, dropping forward and bracing her hands on Nate's shoulders as the shock wave hit. Nate grinned from ear to ear; Nora's blowjob earlier had backed him off to the point that now he could shoot for giving Nora another big orgasm before he shot off again -- something he just loved to watch! Tenisha raised her head, swallowed, and announced, "Okay, Baby, you got yours -- now I need to feel some tongue! We can bring what'shername in here if you need lessons... Ooogh!" Draper wrapped his lips around her erected clit and put an end to THAT notion! Tenisha started quietly, merely breathing harshly, but soon graduated to "Oh, Baby! Oh, Baby! Oh, Baby..." ------- Sharon was divesting herself of her clothing at Armand's direction while Armand watched the two young couples on a monitor at the foot of his bed. "I thought you told them you weren't going to look?" Armand chuckled. "While I left that impression, I carefully avoided saying that precisely. I notice that they didn't put the Wench to work, although she appeared to be more than willing..." "Where is she?" "Posted just outside." Sharon nodded. "Why am I here?" "We have a disciplinary problem," Armand replied. "I want you to exert yourself to correct it." 'Uh oh, ' Sharon thought. "How?" "By doing what I tell you to do," Armand replied. "And without making a fuss, or we'll deal with THAT, too! Do I need to spank you first to get your attention?" "Ummmm, no Armand," Sharon replied hastily. If she was going to punish someone else, how bad could that be? Leticia arrived, closely followed by Jason. "Leticia! Come over here, Dear, next to Sharon," Armand began jovially. "How are things going?" Deliberately, he saw to it that Leticia glanced at the monitor and observed the two couples in action. A moue of distaste flickered across her features, but Leticia answered, blandly, "Fine, Sir." "I realize that there have been a number of recent changes in the household -- do you understand how they affect you? Do you understand your place in relation to the new arrivals?" "Yessir." "Do you understand your position relative to Sharon here, for instance?" "Yessir." Leticia began to be uneasy. "What about my daughter, Leticia -- do you understand your position relative to my daughter?" "Yessir." The hammer fell. "That's not what I have been given to understand," Armand grated. "I'm given to understand that you are making value judgments on the nature of her lover and her friends based upon the fact that they share your race. Would you care to comment on that? Perhaps you would care to dispute the word of, say, Jason, here? Although I HAVE had more than one incident reported to me..." "Uuh, nossir!" Leticia managed to look pasty, despite her coloration. Her eyes got big, and fear oozed from her. "Your comments and gestures indicate to me that you feel that my daughter's choice in lovers makes her an interloper who interferes with your racial purity. I find that position to be highly hypocritical due to the conditions under which you entered my employ..." Armand growled. Sharon shook her head; obviously, Leticia had been one of Armand's toys. Just as obviously, she'd gambled big, if she felt the way she apparently did, trying to trap a white man... Armand turned to Sharon, "Leticia has always had a bit of an inflated ego. Periodically, one has to deflate her -- remind her of her true station. Apparently, this rather blatant display is an indication that it's past time we did something." Turning to Leticia, he barked, "Strip!" Leticia started working her way out of her tailored grey maid's uniform. Behind her, Charles entered the room with something in his hand; Sharon couldn't quite make it out, but it appeared to be threatening... "Ah, Charles. You've brought the item, I see. Please give it to Sharon, and explain its use..." Armand directed. Poker faced, Charles placed a harness with a rubber cock attached in Sharon's startled hands. "This is a strap-on dildo. You affix the harness to yourself and then use it to fuck someone else." Charles pointed out a protrusion at the base of the rubber dildo. "For the most enjoyment, you should try to mount it such that this ridge contacts your clitoris." "Ummm, thanks..." was all Sharon could manage to get out while she stared at the contraption. Surely Armand didn't expect her to... One look into her ex-husband's eyes confirmed that he did, and that he didn't expect her to make a fuss about it, either! Leticia, now naked, was eyeing the thing as if it were a snake. Armand turned to her and issued his instructions: "Since you answer to Sharon before you answer to me, I find it instructive for you that I delegate the conduct of your punishment to your supervisor. Sharon, settle yourself at the foot of the bed and spread your legs." Sharon got moving; what did this have to do with the dildo? "Leticia, you have five minutes to bring Sharon to orgasm with your tongue. Whether you succeed or fail will determine whether Sharon uses the strap-on on your pussy, or your ass; in any case, she will ride you for ten minutes in whichever hole you earn as a result of your efforts." Armand glanced at his wristwatch, "You may begin." Leticia got down right away, and while her face said she wasn't thrilled at all to be sticking her tongue in Sharon's furry crotch, she nonetheless stuck out her tongue and started looking for sensitive flesh. Sharon directed a 'Do I really have to do this?' glance at Armand, but made no protest when he nodded affirmation. Armand followed up with, "Sharon, you need not cooperate; if you feel like plowing Leticia's anus with that dildo, all you have to do is resist..." The implication that she was going to have to put the thing SOMEWHERE in Leticia, whether she liked it or not, was obvious. "Maybe you should make her beg for your cooperation..." Sharon glanced down, but Leticia was already begging, "Please, Mistress, let me do this for you right! Please scoot down a little, and let me lift you legs so I can make it better..." Trapped into the act as much as Leticia was by the requirement not to let on, Sharon nodded and let Leticia lay her back, lift her legs and pull her out into a position where her ass was exposed to the efforts of a very urgent tongue. Armand glanced up from watching Nora start her quest for her second cum and murmured, "If she's not satisfactory, instruct her. No hands, Leticia! You can hold her legs up if she wants you to, but that's it!" Sharon, having determined that anything else was a waste of time, gave herself up to the sensations, "Suck my clit! Tongue the underside! Agh! Like that!" "Grab her head and haul her around!" Armand directed, "Woman-handle her!" Sharon reached down with both hands and smeared Leticia's face against her labia. There was something so cool about this... Turning her head, she could see Jason, upside-down, grinning his tight grin, while Charles looked on with a poker face that nonetheless conveyed interest. The black woman's tongue was all over her clit, and Sharon was beginning to feel stirrings of more than immediate pleasure. "Three minutes," Charles noted. Leticia, looking desperate, broke off for a moment, "Would you like to be rimmed, Mistress? Would that feel good?" Sharon eyed Leticia with some surprise, but Armand urged, "Let her rim you -- take a full minute, at least! She needs to do something dirty, and you're making it too easy for her, anyway! You know how it is when it's too easy..." Why did that last statement cause a flash in her? "Do it!" Sharon croaked. God, how nasty! Leticia went right to work, and the pure filthy, nasty dirtiness of the whole thing had Sharon's eyes rolling in her head as an orgasm hovered close. Sharon had been required to do this to Armand on a couple of occasions, and she remembered the musky taste well; now it was HER feeling the penetration by the soft, wet, supple flesh... Armand looked up to tell Charles to time the event, but a wave said he was on it already. Nasty as it was, the rim job was no substitute for direct clitoral stimulation. Sharon enjoyed it immensely, but thirty-five seconds in she was already croaking "How long?" followed by "Tell me when!" Charles announced "Time!" and Sharon dragged Leticia back up to her clitoris by her ears -- but on the way, she discovered something else! "OOOO!" She shoved Leticia's head back down to the vicinity of her soaking anus, "Lick me between!" Sharon's perineum turned out to be VERY ticklish... "Agggh!" Sharon took this for a few seconds and then moved her impromptu sex slave's mouth back onto her quivering clitoris. "SUCK! LICK! FINISH MEEEE!" Sharon was beside herself, pleasure and unaccustomed power making for a heady cocktail. Leticia instituted a combination of suction and tongue- drubbing and Sharon, absolutely beside herself, screamed, "Oh, GAWD!!!" and convulsed, crushing the hapless black woman to her crotch and spewing cunt honey all over her chin and neck. "Four forty," Charles announced, apparently unperturbed. "Oh thank God," Leticia gasped, lungs pumping. "Thank your Mistress," Armand murmured. "You owe her. I wanted to see your ass reamed!" Sharon gathered herself and sat up, retrieving the strap-on from where it had been set aside during her tongue-lashing. "Charles, would you help me with..." "I know how, Mistress," Leticia interrupted. "Let me show you!" "Make sure she's fitted right," Armand warned, "If she doesn't enjoy it, you'll DEFINITELY get the ass next time!" Sharon stood and Leticia set about fitting the strap-on harness to her crotch, her attitude obviously eager to please. Sharon noticed that somewhere in the last few minutes, Leticia's normally haughty attitude had disappeared completely, leaving an almost totally different woman; all in all the transformation was pretty amazing... "Do her doggie," Armand directed, "using that rig in the missionary position takes practice." Leticia climbed up on the bed, knelt grabbing the footboard, and spread her legs. Sharon knelt up gingerly and glanced around helplessly; Charles stepped forward and showed her how to wipe the dildo along Leticia's labia, exposing the pink interior hidden by her nether lips. "There's no lube," Sharon murmured. "It won't hurt you and she's being punished," Charles replied blandly. "Go ahead." Sharon pressed forward, trying to cram the rubber cock into Leticia's opening while Charles help guide the shaft. Leticia whimpered; the thing was eight inches long and thick and -- deliberately -- flesh tone, not black. There was a moment of silent strain and a grunt as the head popped through. "Hold the base while you withdraw until things get going," Charles instructed, "When she loosens and lubes a bit, it'll be easier. Short strokes to start -- don't pull it all the way out. Clock's running." Sharon followed instructions. Leticia made quiet whimpers until Armand swatted her on the ass and grunted, "Quiet, you're disturbing my viewing. You black cunts sure enjoy having your pussy eaten! Is that because black boys are so reluctant to do it?" Sharon realized that the deliberately racist remarks, occasioned by the video feed of Tenisha's loud enjoyment of Draper's obviously non-reluctant tongue-lashing, were an exercise in verbal humiliation and said nothing. The going was getting easier; Charles mimed taking longer strokes, so Sharon started conquering more real estate in the black woman's inner core. Withdrawals stopped requiring bracing the dildo against her crotch with her hand as Leticia's inner lining conformed to the shape and size of it's invader, and Charles motioned for her to stop holding it, which gave her a bit more length to feed into Leticia's tunnel. "Now pound her," Charles directed, "The harder you bash her, the more clitoral stimulation you get from it. Enjoy yourself." For Sharon, the trip-hammer hip thrust required was a totally unaccustomed motion; getting the hang of it took a bit and resulted in some misses -- painful ones for Leticia, at times. But soon she started getting the hang of it, including the clit-bashing that was her reward for the effort. Sharon doubted that she would ever orgasm this way, but it WAS pleasant enough to keep her driving herself into the black woman. Charles leaned forward and whispered a suggestion, and Sharon swatted Leticia on the ass, ranting, "Tighten up, you sloppy slut! I could drive a truck in there!" The psychological piece was beginning to sink in, and Sharon realized she was enjoying it. Armand would have something to say, something relevant... Yes! "No wonder all your men are chasing white women!" she exclaimed scornfully, "It would take a horse to faze you! Clench!" On her own, she started prodding at Leticia's sphincter, which tightened right up, of course... "At least your ass works! Maybe I should switch up?" "Yes, Mistress! I mean, no, Mistress!" Direct experience told Sharon that Leticia was in masochist heaven. She glanced at Charles, who was smiling blandly; Armand was actually expressing approval! 'Make it red, ' he mouthed. Sharon started swatting Leticia's ass in earnest, delivering hard blows designed to show her what red looked like on a black ass. Ten minutes was a long time to be pounding someone from behind; Sharon learned new respect for Armand and men in general before Charles muttered, "Time." Sharon backed off gratefully and suffered the removal of the dildo. On the screen, the kids were cuddling, obviously finished for the moment. Armand turned to Leticia and rasped, "Do you think you've learned anything, Slut?" "Yessir!" Leticia was all respect. "I don't," he grunted. "Go locate..." he glanced at Charles, who mouthed 'Boris'; Jason grunted and nodded agreement. "Go locate Boris, and tell him he can use whichever of your sloppy holes he wants. He's to call Charles for confirmation, if necessary, and he's to call him again to report his level of satisfaction with your efforts when he's through. Do we need to talk about what will happen if Boris isn't pleased?" "Nossir!" "You will report to Charles daily for two weeks; at his discretion, you will service Boris, be flogged, or whatever else comes to my mind, Sharon's or Charles'. Do you understand?" "Yessir!" Leticia looked like she was going to pee herself at any moment. Armand turned to Sharon. "You will discuss your wants in this matter with Charles; the two of you will collaborate on Leticia's training curriculum." He returned his gaze to Leticia, and it hardened, "As for you, get out of my sight -- and you'd better hope I don't decide to BREED you to Boris!" Leticia reached for her uniform dress and Armand barked, "Leave it! Go nude! Pick it up from Sharon in the morning -- now get out!" Leticia streaked out the door. When she was gone, Armand turned to Sharon, "You, my dear, did VERY well with this little episode! I am most impressed!" Sharon frowned. "According to her file, Leticia is an employee. Why did she put up with that? Why would she do what you just told her to do?" Armand smiled. "It all has to do with pushing her buttons. While it is true that she COULD leave, if she did so under the wrong conditions, she'd have difficulty finding decent employment doing almost anything. On the other hand, she responds well to direct pressure; once you penetrate her hauteur, she collapses and becomes extremely pliant. And while she makes those racist noises, she doesn't believe in them. Being forced to have sex with white men is a favorite fantasy -- we just did her a favor." "But, Boris?" "Boris will do fine. Besides, we want a certain humiliation component. My first thought was Ed, but Charles had a better idea, I think." Charles murmured, "In any case, I have been getting weird vibes from Ed lately. Something is up..." "Really?" Armand raised his eyebrows. Turning to the video system, he switched surveillance cameras. The intent was to scan recent tapes, but by an amazing coincidence, there was something to see in the hallway outside Ed's rooms... ------- "Ed?" Velma tapped lightly on the carpenter's door. "Ed? Y'all awake?" Velma had spent thirty minutes tossing and turning in her bed before getting up the guts to do this -- and her bravery was dribbling away fast... 'What the fuck is that? Sort of a tapping... ' Ed muted his TV. There it was again... Was that a voice? Ed got up and went to his door. There was another series of taps. Slow woodpecker? It was the world's wimpiest knock... Ed stuck his eye to the peep; had somebody hung a curtain up out there? Was this a practical joke? He'd fuckin' KILL Phillippe... He threw the door open. "Jeezus shit!" "Wha?" Velma blinked, surprised. That didn't sound good... Ed stood there, shaking his head, eyeing Velma's print nightie. "I KNEW you wore a circus tent to bed! What'cha want?" How to phrase this? "Ah wanna know if'n yo' goin' be bustin' inta mah rooms agin' any time soon!" "Dunno." Ed eyed her. "Are ya beggin' or complainin'?" Velma opened her mouth to claim option two -- and shut it. This might not be a good time for bluster... She opened her mouth to confirm option one -- and shut it. Wouldn't that be beggin', sorta? Ed would probably laugh... Phillippe's door started to rattle; Ed grabbed Velma by the arm, "Get in here, ya silly bitch, before you embarrass us both!" ------- Armand shut off the video feed and sat chuckling. "Good eye, Charles! Apparently, Ed and Velma have found their own solutions... We're done here, I think, gentlemen. Sharon, you're staying -- we have a bit more to talk about." Charles and Jason filed out. Sharon eyed her ex-husband, "We do?" "Well, maybe not talk. Come here. A little head, if you please." Sharon sighed. Despite the fact that it sounded like a request, she knew better. She pulled the blankets down to a point below his waist, opened his pajama bottoms, and engulfed his cock. Armand ruffled her hair and murmured, "Your stock will go up around here based upon this evenings little exercise -- mark my words. I'm pleased that you saw fit not to make a fool of yourself. Did you enjoy it?" How was she going to talk and do this at the same time? "Well, yes, oddly enough," she admitted, then resumed her effort. "Any idea why?" "Comeuppance? She was getting her just desserts." Back to sucking. "Really?" Armand rumbled. "She was merely displaying a bad attitude..." "It was YOUR idea!" Sharon rasped. "Look, don't yell at me about bad sucking if you're going to make me stop to talk all the time!" "Climb up here and ride me, then -- that way we can talk." Sharon got up and knelt over Armand's crotch, lifted his stiff member to a near- vertical position, and began working her way onto it. Armand eyed her, "You haven't argued with me, word or deed, since you came in the door." Sharon thought about it. "Earlier, it didn't make sense. If I did, it would interfere with what you were doing -- and you were concentrating on someone else. Now, given the object lesson, why start?" Armand ruminated. "That's fair. So, how are you settling in?" "On this?" Sharon wriggled a bit. "I have it all, I think..." Armand laughed, "No, the household." "The place is a horror-show -- but I'll survive." "Well, I want you entertained... Move a bit more -- but slowly." "Obviously, you felt that I needed to do that to her. Why?" "Mmmm, several reasons." Armand captured Sharon's breasts in his hands, cradling them. "She needed to link you firmly with my authority in her mind. An object lesson needed to be delivered that would flow to the others, justifying your position and confirming that you have the full support of myself, Jason and Charles. And I wanted to see if you could grow in this dimension. Apparently, you can." "I surprised myself." The sex act was starting to be the focus of her attention, despite the distraction of conversation. How long had it been since she and Armand had just had sex, without a beating, or a humiliation -- or both? Armand was thumbing her nipples, and she was getting a little snap-grind at the bottom of each stroke. She was speeding up, despite herself. Armand was aware of the implications, too. "Enjoying yourself?" "Yes." She had the presence of mind to be uneasy. "Go ahead -- you earned it. Just make sure I get mine." "So, we're having sex now?" "Yes. Might as well." He resumed working her nipples. "Harder, please?" The dildo had brought her a certain distance, before. Now, the pleasure it had generated acted as a booster, bringing her more quickly to her stride in the current act. While her nipples could be tender in the early going, a bit more intensity would be welcome, now... As for Armand, the request was polite and dovetailed with his inclination; shrugging, he bore down. "Oooohhh!" They burned, they itched, and they sent flashes of sensation to mingle with the tingle of her clit and the rub of his cock in her channel. Was it pain? Maybe. Did she care? No. Armand watched the evidence of her arousal build. It HAD been some time since they'd merely had sex, without other overtones. Did this herald anything? Was he getting soft, in his old age? Had she broken? Was the fight gone out of her? The urge to test her came upon him, but he stifled it -- no, she always resisted early, and this was late. While she hadn't been directly challenged, she'd spent some time being used to challenge another -- that was lesson enough. Let her have her fun... "Lean forward a bit. I need more in and out and less back and forth." "Yes, Armand." There was some worry that stimulation would drop off, but it didn't. Armand began thrusting from below, too, which added to things. There was definitely a cum hovering out there; would he let her have it? Or would he deny her at the last moment? But the urgency continued to grow and Armand didn't pounce... Armand watched, amused, as Sharon's eyes began to glaze and her rhythmic impalement of herself on his cock became a pounding attack. It was good for him, but he hadn't approached a trigger point; the position had a lot to do with it. The benefits of the lesser effort required were offset by the lack of control. On the other hand, it was obvious that Sharon was benefiting from the position quite a bit... In a moment, she lost it, moaning and surging, her ability to maintain a rhythm robbed from her by the intensity of her orgasm. She was oddly silent, her eyes and mouth wide open in a silent scream as her lungs apparently locked up with the rest of her muscles. In a moment she collapsed and began breathing again, "Ohhh, God!" "Good, was it?" "Uh huh..." "I'm not done..." "Ummm, okay. This doesn't work for you, does it? What do you want me to do? Should we roll over? Or something else?" Post-orgasmic lassitude had Sharon in its grip; the orgasm had been HUGE. But she knew better than to shortchange Armand... "We'll try that. Ready?" Armand rolled the system that was the two of them to the left, resulting in his being prone over her, missionary- style, between her raised knees. Armand went to work to get his own satisfaction. Would merely fucking her be enough? Perhaps he should come up with some side-issue -- a little humiliation, perhaps? Have Jason come in and shove his cock down her throat? Physical sensation stopped those musings, however; Armand suddenly became aware that he was already in the final stages -- whether it had been the fantasy, or just the lingering result of earlier efforts, he wasn't certain -- but he was approaching completion, in record time! He set up a pounding attack designed to maximize his pleasure, not that it was going to be a brain-burner, or anything; they seldom were any more -- he wasn't eighteen, after all, and he WAS getting sex basically any time he wanted it... He settled back to tease himself a bit at the last moment, and detected something new -- Sharon was pulsing her vaginal muscles! She was clenching and unclenching, cyclically... "What are you doing?" "Trying to help." "I'm surprised. Have you ever... done this... before?" "Ummm, not deliberately. You usually trigger it via spankings. But, since I've been doing it, I should be able to control it..." "It's... very nice... MMMMPH!" Armand discharged, firing three seminal rounds into Sharon's clasping vagina before things settled back to a dribble, then remaining buried while she milked him. "Very, very nice!" "Why thank you, sir!" Sharon simpered. She could have used another orgasm, but one didn't make demands on Armand -- ANYTHING could result, depending upon his mood! Armand rolled off, and habit got her onto her knees to clean him up with her mouth, something she'd gotten used to long since. When she was done and backed off, stanching the flows from her vagina with one hand, Armand murmured, "That was excellent! You may go -- or you may stay, as it pleases you." Sharon nodded. She needed to clean up -- that much was certain. After that... After that, she wanted another cum -- but there was no telling what Armand might take it into his head to do about THAT! Certainly, she couldn't just masturbate on the bed next to him... These musings occurred on her way to the suite's bathroom; she stopped and looked back over her shoulder, "What will you be doing?" "Enjoying my post-coital lassitude," he replied. "Maybe I'll check on Boris..." Sharon nodded and moved on into the bathroom. Armand's plans presented her with a quandary; while she would certainly be interested in participating in his voyeurism in this particular instance, she feared that afterward, the urge to masturbate would be maddening! On the other hand, there was a distinct chance that Armand might become aroused again, too, and he could be persuaded to scratch the itch directly... Decisions, decisions! ------- Amy Trent lay relaxed on her back on the bed, eyeing her sex partner with some resignation, "So, how long?" "Huh?" Pete grunted, surprised. "How long before I lose you to the woman you've been thinking about all evening?" Pete grimaced. "Well, maybe never." "Honey, you're not here NOW!" "Um, sorry!" Amy sighed. Well, it couldn't last. Pete was a HUNK, and although she wasn't ugly by any stretch, even free pussy in copious amounts wasn't going to keep him from tripping over some svelte little blonde at some point. Besides, Pete wanted an exclusive relationship -- and if Amy had been willing to do that, she might have tied him down by now, but she liked to have something different every once in a while... "So, you're hopelessly in love and she doesn't know your name?" "Um, no, it's a little more complicated than that." "Is it gonna happen, or are you just gonna carry a torch?" Amy teased. "Well, I might get something, but it won't be a relationship." "Swell!" Amy rolled her eyes. "Then what? You wander around broken? I can't imagine who on Earth would pass YOU up! What is she, a lesbian?" After all, Pete was BEAUTIFUL -- long, dark curly locks, blue eyes, trim and muscular -- and carrying the sweetest dick... Just having him on her arm drove up her own personal popularity, making it easier to get other hunks on the odd occasion. "No, that's not it. I'm pretty sure she wants me -- but there are other forces at work. Anything long-term is a pipe-dream." He grimaced, "I don't want to talk about it." "Okay, Lover. Come back to me when her claws let go?" Pete shook his head. Another woman would be all upset -- but he knew Amy. SHE was the one who had resisted anything exclusive or permanent. If he DIDN'T come back, she'd replace him, soon enough. Oh, she wouldn't be thrilled, and she might have to make do with less, but she'd move on... He reached for his T-shirt; time to go home. He'd killed the mood, anyway... ------- Chapter 41: Various Negotiations Ed slammed his door then stood in the middle of the room rubbing the shoulder he'd nearly jerked out of it's socket propelling Velma into the room. "Awright, so, where were we? Oh, yeah What the fuck you doin' makin' itty bitty taps on my door at this hour in a nightie?" "Ah already tol' ya -- Ah wanna know if'n yo' goin' be bustin' inta mah rooms agin' any time soon!" "So, are ya beggin' or complainin'? You was takin' your time answerin'..." Velma manufactured outrage, standing with her hands on her hips, "A gal cain't be answerin' a question lahk dat! Neithah one, Ah guess..." Ed eyed the big woman in disbelief. "But you needed to know so bad you come to my place in a nightie? Shit, half the household is gonna know by mornin'!" "Fook." Velma looked away. "Yeah, just exactly," Ed grunted. "Ya pretty well tipped your hand, ya silly bitch." NOW, what the fuck? "I'm gonna assume you're beggin'..." What kind of bullshit story was he gonna have to come up with to get her out of his hair? Velma opened her mouth to give vent to outrage, then shut it. After a moment, she sighed, "Waal, Ah ain't too good at dis shit. No practice." Ed grunted. "Me neither. We're a fine fuckin' pair..." "Mebbe Ah oughta go..." "Naw. Phillippe's probably all alert over there -- you come poppin' outta here, an' you might as well put up a billboard. Park your ass on the couch fer a bit -- we'll watch the tube until shit settles down. Wanna beer?" "Ah cain't drink. Makes me stupid." Ed just eyed her. "Yah, awright. One, mebbe." She settled her frame on the couch -- which suddenly seemed to shrink. Ed headed for the refrigerator, cudgeling his brain. What he OUGHT to do was put her big ass out in the hall like Fred Flintstone did to Dino, dust his hands and call it a night! Instead, her big ass was parked on his couch, and he was crackin' her a beer -- like he was tryin' to seduce her, or somethin'... He pulled two cans of Bud out of the fridge and stood there a moment, looking at her. That silly-assed nightshirt squashed her big jugs against her body to the point that you couldn't see anything else, with her seated like that; her heavy thighs covered her twat, even with her knees open some -- no way he could tell from here if she was wearin' panties -- she'd have to spread 'em WIDE... That cunt, though -- it was probably the smallest thing on her, and it was some of the best shit he'd ever poked! Idly, he wondered if he could convince her to up some ass, too... "Whatchew lookin at?" Velma asked, looking up from the TV. "You're takin' up mosta that direction," Ed rasped. "Want any chips, or anything?" "Ah shouldn't eat." 'No shit!' Ed brought the cans over and popped the tops, handing Velma hers, then wedged himself in on her left. Velma took a sip and wrinkled her nose, "Dis is dog piss!" "Yeah." Ed shrugged. "I'm jus' leachin' the alcohol out of it, an' I drink quite a bit, so I go cheap." "Y'all a boozer, den?" Velma eyed him sidelong. "Naw, just need something to put me ta sleep." "Dey's otha things..." 'Like pussy?' "I don't do pills." Velma grunted -- almost screwed that one up. "Whatchew watchin' heah?" "Dunno." Ed shrugged. He'd been surfing. "I like movies. Network shit is, well, shit. But I come on this in the middle." He'd been planning on checking out that edgy series about a cathouse on HBO in a few... Now, who knew? Here he was, in his own place, leaned up and holdin' his beer with both hands sittin' next to a hippo, explaining his TV viewing habits... He settled back and gingerly draped his right arm on the couch back. Velma gave him a glance and took up a deeper slouch. Dammit! If she was a regular gal, he'd be able ta get at a nipple with a li'l work! But her tits was squashed down an' her nipples was down next to her belly button... How da fook was she gonna give him anythin'? "Dis thing looks romantical." Ed hadn't REALLY planned to go fooling with her -- he was just trying to get comfortable on his chunk of couch! But there she was, doin' her best to roll out the welcome mat... Silly bitch was TOTALLY transparent! "I don't do romance, but I can watch others do it." Of course, he REALLY hit the booze when he did -- loneliness could be a real bitch... "Yah. Me, too." They sat there for a bit, Velma watching the movie but waiting for Ed to do something, and Ed wrestling with himself. If he messed with the silly hippo, she'd probably get all lovey-dovey, and he'd look like a goddamn idiot. On the other hand, having access to that juicy cunt on a regular basis... What was the old saw about fat women? 'Heat in winter, shade in summer, and a soft place to lay down year 'round... ' How bad was she, really? She wasn't ugly; she was black, and sometimes black girls didn't do it for him, but she didn't have any of the things that usually shut him down... She was fuckin' huge, but he'd really had no problem working around that the other night... Apparently, she'd enjoyed it, or she wouldn't be sittin' here... Everything negative about the situation seemed to have to do with admitting they were fucking in public -- and it was BOUND to get out! It was kinda like riding a Honda -- great until your Harley- riding friends found out... Could she keep it under wraps? And for how long? Awww, fuck -- he was kiddin' himself -- it'd be all over the house in a couple of days, and he'd start takin' shit. On the other hand, it was probably out there, already, so he might as well enjoy the benefits... A lot of the downside had to do with 'relationship shit' -- he didn't know how to be nice to a woman, and he was too old to start learning! To date, all of Ed's 'relationships' had been more or less cash and carry -- it's all he REALLY had any experience with! Oh, sure, he'd picked up a few desperate bitches in bars at one time or another -- so he knew what things could degenerate to -- but mostly it was hookers and such. Hand her some cash, climb on, stroke 'til it feels good, and 'Bye, Honey. Come back when you have more money!' The Boss was good about importing some talent every couple months -- Hell, then you didn't even have to pay for it! Velma wasn't likely to act like that -- and that brought complications. Maybe they could set ground rules... All of this back and forth rumination took a bit. In the meantime, Velma was pulling at her beer, and Ed's right hand found her neck and her springy hair. The movie had moved into the obligatory revealed lies, misunderstandings, and unrequited love; Velma's eyes were wet. Ed grunted, "About here, I go looking for a sex flick. I ain't no better at it, but it don't tear up your guts..." "Yah? Mebbe..." Ed changed the channel to the sexual documentary. "You came for dick, anyway, didn't ya?" "Why yo' gotta make me say that?" Velma eyed him sidelong. "Y'all KNOW the answer!" "It's kind of an honesty thing." "Y'all jus' wanna be able ta laugh..." She tilted up the can, "Got any more dog piss? If Ah'm gonna say shit lahk dat, Ah need ta be able ta blame it on sumpthin'." Ed chuckled and headed for the refrigerator, and Velma added, "Y'all ain't honest, eithah. You could'a left mah ass standin' in da hall, but ya didn't. Ah ain't sittin' here 'cause of no Phillippe." Ed sighed and kicked the refrigerator door closed, heading back to the couch. "Okay, so, maybe I'm a chicken-shit, but you don't pass it up, ever, ESPECIALLY when you get to be my age. My two heads been arguin' ever since you come through the door, but the li'l one is sneaky and keeps pushin' things out. The flip side is I'm too fuckin' old to learn to be romantical, an' I figure you're gonna start havin' expectations..." "Huh." Velma took the offered beer. "So, if'n Ah'll jus' admit ta bein' a slut, y'all can put yoah conscience away an' fook, dat right?" She eyed him dubiously. Ed deflated. "Yah, somethin' like that." "An' if'n Ah don' wanna do dat?" Ed re-parked his ass on the sofa, "Well, shit gets harder." Velma sighed and shook her head. 'A gal's gotta have some self- respect... ' she thought to herself. It looked like she could choose between it and Ed's dick, dammit... Suddenly, inspiration dawned. Pretending to be absorbed in the banter of a half-clad whore enticing a john on the TV screen, she cracked the beer -- but it was tilted, and a serious quantity glugged all over the front of her nightie! "Aw SHIT!" She jumped up and leaned forward, trying to keep the wet area off her skin. "DAMN! Now Ah'm, soaked, Ah smell lahk beer, an' Ah ain't got nuthin' ta change inta!" Ed hopped up, too, and stood there, looking stupid. There was NO WAY that nightie was going to clear her tits, even bent over; instead, he got a view of miles-deep cleavage that was even more revealed by the transparency of the wet cotton nightdress. "Uh, I'll go get a towel..." "Best get a blanket -- a towel won't EVEN cover MAH ass! Ah'll go inta da bathroom an' wait, den when y'all bring it, Ah'Il shuck outta dis thing an' wash it in da sink. Y'all are stuck wit' me 'til it dries..." Velma headed for the bathroom, leaving Ed standing there, realizing that, deliberate or not, he'd been out-maneuvered; if she stayed the night, they'd fuck -- end of story. And she WOULDN'T have to make any damaging admissions! Well, he'd just have to be careful... He headed for his bedroom and jerked the thin cotton blanket off the bed, then rapped on the bathroom door and immediately stuck his head in, "Got the blanket." Velma was still wearing the nightie. "Ah KNEW you was gonna try ta peep on me, ya ol' bastid! Hurry up an' gimme dat thing, Ah'm beginnin' ta smell lahk a brewery!" Ed grinned and handed over the blanket, then returned to the couch. Velma had apparently soaked up most of the beer -- there was very little on the couch. He swabbed it off with a towel, then headed for the bedroom where he shucked out of his sweats and boxers, then put the sweats back on. Might as well give up and go for the gusto -- and that included making the whole thing a bit easier. The sweatshirt came off, too, replaced by T- shirt with a beer ad on it; things were likely to get warm... Velma was grinning from ear to ear as she cleaned up in the bathroom. NOW, she'd get it, for sure -- an' she WOULDN'T have to make any damaging admissions! 'Ah GOT dat ole bastid DIS time!' she thought gleefully to herself. Humming, she rinsed the nightie and threw it over the shower curtain bar to dry, then washed herself with a washrag and Ed's deodorant soap, not only hitting the beery spots, but her armpits, cleavage, under her big jugs, and around her cooze and ass. She patted some areas dry with his bath towel, but figured she'd better let her cooze and pits air dry, or she'd hear about how she made the towel stink. The ole bastid was pretty predictable like that... Finally, she wrapped herself in the blanket, choosing to hold it behind her, rather than in front; that way, she could just cover herself on the couch, rather than remaining wrapped up. Emerging from the bathroom, Velma noted Ed's change of shirt, "Did Ah spill some on ya?" "Naw, I just figured that if you were gonna be wrapped in a blanket, you was gonna get hot -- and since I'm sittin' next to ya..." "Y'all probly right." Velma moved over and prepared to park, fluffing the blanket and seating herself while it draped, granting a momentary glimpse of her big chocolate shanks as she did so. "Ah cain't be wrappin' mahself in dis thing -- Ah'd broil! Ah gotta jus' hide under it..." She passed Ed a sly glance; the blanket draped over him, too, as it settled -- as expected. ------- But of course that wasn't the only odd activity going on in the bachelor apartments. Leticia had taken some time and great pains to arrive in the hallway outside Boris' door unobserved -- especially since anyone who observed her would see ALL of her! Now, huddling there to minimize her exposure, she timorously knocked on the big Georgian's door. Boris was sitting on his couch, a towel girdling his waist. He'd bathed about an hour before, then gone down and enjoyed a bit of time in the hot tub, which reminded him of the public baths at home, despite the fact that his enjoyment was regularly solitary. Now, it was late, so he was plopped on his couch nursing a bottle of vodka and watching soft porn; in a bit, he'd probably ease the pressure in his heavy balls before hitting the sack. Since it was Friday, and the Boss wasn't entertaining some noisy slut, things would probably get off to a slow start in the morning and he could sleep in until seven or so. Otherwise, it was just another day at the dacha... But there was a knock at his door, and a female voice calling his name -- when had THAT ever happened before? Maybe the Boss wanted something... Boris got up, scratching his shaggy chest, and shuffled to the door, "Da?" "Oh, thank God! Let me in, PLEASE!" It was the little negress, Leticia, and she was VERY naked! Boris stood back to let her pass without thinking about it. "Where are your clothes?" He stood there, holding the door open while he glowered at her. "Are you playing a game? A joke on old Boris? I do not feel like playing games -- I'm not dressed for it." "Mr. Wilson has my clothes," Leticia whimpered. "Please close the door!" Boris stuck his head out into the hallway and glanced around warily; the hallway was deserted. Withdrawing, he closed the door, then turned to Leticia. "Why do you trouble Boris? Why not Phillippe, or Pete, or Ed? Why Boris?" "I was sent here," Leticia replied. "I do not understand." Boris continued to glower, and it was a more or less fearsome thing to stand before it. Leticia shivered a moment, then gathered herself. "Let me explain." Boris waved his hands, indicating that she should continue. "I offended Mr. Wilson tonight. He became very angry with me over some things I said and did in the presence of his daughter's friends. He-he had Miz Sharon sex me with a dildo, and then he sent me to you." "And what am I to do with you, eh?" Boris asked. "You're to use me..." "For what?" Boris scoffed, "Sex? A skinny, brittle thing like you? Boris break you in half!" "It is what Mr. Wilson wants! Call Charles! He'll tell you!" "You stand there! Do not move. I will call Charles, and if you lie..." Boris lumbered to his house phone and punched for Charles. "Charles? It is Boris..." "You have a visitor?" Charles cut him off. "Da, the negress -- she is..." "I know all about it, Boris. Is she still naked?" "Da." "Mr. Wilson has given her to you to use for the night. She spouted a bunch of racist comments, and Mr. Wilson wants her well used, to teach her her place." "Used? As in sex?" "Yes. Use any hole you wish -- her mouth, her useless cunt, her ass -- keep her all night. Fill her full of white spunk. If she gives you any crap, slap her around a bit -- but don't do any permanent damage. Understand?" "Da." "This is punishment; don't think you have to do anything to make her happy. It should all go the other way. Call me in the morning and tell me how she did -- if it wasn't satisfactory, I'm instructed to mete out further punishment," Charles added. "All right?" "Da." "Hand her the phone." Boris stuck out the phone, "Take this. Talk to Charles." Leticia collected it gingerly, "Yes?" "You're to spend the night. See to it that he's happy; if you don't, he has my permission to slap you around. I'm sure you realize that that authority comes from Mr. Wilson himself. By the way, what took you so long?" "I didn't want to be seen." Charles chuckled, and Leticia shivered. Nothing good could come of THAT sound... "Go service your white man!" Charles hung up. Leticia put down the phone. Boris's truculence was gone; in its place, a lascivious gleam lit his eyes. "So, you do not lie -- but you do not tell all, either! You are Boris's slave for the night -- ALL night! Boris may not break you, but anything less... Come here!" Leticia stepped forward, and he grasped her biceps and shook her, "Drop the hands!" Leticia did as she was told. Lord, he was so strong! The shake made her teeth rattle! Boris looked disgusted, "Skinny model types! Little, tiny titties! No meat on your bones! You cannot handle REAL sex -- you probably do not know what real sex is! You cannot take a man!" Boris pounded his chest to make his point. Leticia got the point; this wasn't a man -- Boris was a bear! Huge, hairy -- even on his back! -- shambling, barrel-chested... A bear! Boris hauled downward on the arm, and Leticia's knees collapsed. "Open the towel," he grunted. "Suck!" Leticia did as she was told, exposing Boris's still limp phallus and heavy balls. Boris grabbed her head and dragged it to his crotch, grunting, "You will drink from Boris's fountain tonight; you should be at least as good at sucking my essence as your sister, the Wench!" The Wench! That white slut? Boris was going to compare her to the Wench? "But she's a slave!" Boris glowered, "At least SHE KNOWS what she IS! SUCK, worthless slut! You, too, are slave!" Crestfallen, Leticia took in Boris's uncut length. It wasn't much at first, but almost immediately, it began to grow and thicken -- mostly thicken! Soon, it was racking her jaws and she was struggling to work it without choking. So thick! Amazing! Boris had one hand in her hair and was mauling her right nipple with the other. "You need to have children -- if you give suck to a baby or two, maybe these tiny things will fatten up, eh? Push back the foreskin and work in the tip! Yessss..." He stood there a moment, savoring her efforts, then pulled her head back by the grip he had on her hair, "I am tired of standing. We will go to the couch." Boris was pretty sure what the Boss wanted, so he maintained his grip on Leticia's hair, controlling her with it while he moved to the couch, enjoying the power play. The hair-pulling didn't hurt Leticia as much as it might have because Boris had a good handful, and Leticia wasn't fighting him, at all! The realization that the hairy giant could rip her to pieces quelled all resistance, firming her resolve to give him everything Mr. Wilson (she'd long since stopped thinking of him as Armand -- now he was Mr. Wilson, or in her private thoughts, Master) demanded of her. She barked her knees as Boris crash-landed on the couch, dragging her with him, but the accompanying exclamation just meant that her mouth was open when he again dropped it over his thick, uncut meat. "Such big, thick, soft lips," Boris grunted. "You should do this more often." "Mmmph." It was agreement. Leticia pushed back his foreskin with her lips and dug her tongue in the exposed surfaces. Boris was a little bit gamey, but that seemed to add to things. The involuntary nature of the act had Leticia wet, wild, and willing; she braced her forearms on the couch alongside his tree-trunk legs and used her mouth to make love to his hard, fat length. Boris couldn't remember having enjoyed himself so much, even as a young man! The negress' mouth was superb, and the feeling of power granted by the situation enhanced things tremendously! Things were quickly coming to a head... "Da... Da... I shoot now -- you swallow every drop, eh? You drink from Boris." Felicia locked eyes with him, watching carefully as he began to rumble and shake, pulling back a bit, but working her tongue under his foreskin to tease the sensitive glans. "Da... DA! Swallow, whore!" The head of Boris's cock swelled to the point that Leticia didn't think she could get it out past her teeth as she watched his heavy balls rise and pulse, followed instantly by an even bigger pulse along his shaft and a gout of thick, gooey semen. Leticia had read somewhere that, tall tales to the contrary, the average ejaculation was less than a tablespoon; Boris beat THAT with his first shot, and he fired off four before settling back to a dribble. Leticia swallowed, and swallowed again, "Gooo..." Lordy! He was a monster! He had balls like a horse! "Da," Boris grunted satisfaction and settled back. "You drink from Boris a few times, maybe you get to be a big girl, eh? Maybe Boris make your belly big, too! Put some milk in these..." He reached out to maul her small breasts with his big, hard hands. "Climb up here," he patted the couch seat, "head toward there," pointing at the couch arm, "and spread your legs. "I want to see your cat -- your pussy, nyet?" Leticia climbed onto the couch and knelt up, facing the indicated direction, but Boris growled, "Nyet! Nyet! On your back! Spread your legs!" After a few rapid adjustments, Leticia found herself on her back with one leg propped over the couch back watching the big groundskeeper grope her with his calloused hand. Sliding a thick finger along her gash, he picked up moisture and inserted it in her tunnel, muttering, "Eh, you are wet! You like drinking Boris's essence, then, slut?" "Y-yes!" Leticia was excited beyond all reason, frankly! The whole thing made very little sense; she'd come in contact with the big -- Russian? -- something like that -- on a number of occasions, and considered him to be merely boorish and not worthy of her attention. But here, under THESE conditions, a very different Boris had emerged. While he no doubt had been physically imposing all along, she'd never noticed, because he had always operated in the background, not exerting himself to the point of attracting her attention. Tonight, however, normal rules of conduct did not apply -- and Boris took charge of her fate with an ease that was positively frightening -- and terribly exciting! Leticia knew that she would never view him the old way again... Boris continued to work a thick digit in her cunt. "Maybe you look forward to feeling my -- how you say?" He grasped his still-erect cock between two fingers and waggled it. "Um, prick?" That's what her brothers had always called it... "Nyet! This too thick for prick, not so?" Boris was teasing her. "Um, yeah. Uhh, cock?" "Da! Cock! You want Boris's cock in there?" He wriggled the buried finger. "Yessss!" Leticia hissed. Since feeling its massive thickness, she'd been imagining it almost constantly. "Maybe I put it here, instead?" Boris reached across and another thick finger probed at her sphincter. 'Oh, no! I'll be split in half!' Fear flashed through her -- but she knew better than to argue... Surging, raising her hips, she gasped, "If you want to." "Da," Boris agreed, "If I want to." He poked and prodded both of her nether holes for a moment, not really getting into her anus. "I have never done that -- you will be my first." Almost unconsciously, Boris had come to grips with something that hadn't quite penetrated to Leticia yet -- tonight would not be the last time the narrow black woman delivered herself into his hands. Boris KNEW this, without being able to consciously discuss the reasons; the situation existed, and that was that. She would return, willingly or unwillingly -- and eventually, it would ALWAYS be willingly; if circumstances didn't force her, hunger would. Her reactions to him were too clear, too strong, too genuine. On the other hand, HE was surprised at HIS response to the scrawny negress -- if asked, he'd have indicated that he favored more husky women, like the cook, Velma. Negresses had never entered his thoughts as possible sex partners, either -- but his erection was still rock hard, despite her doing her best to suck his balls dry... "My bed is in there, slut," he grunted, pointing. "Go arrange yourself on it just like this, and Boris will be along to give you fuck." Leticia rolled off the couch and headed in the indicated direction; Boris went around turning off lights and the television. "Turn on a light! Boris wants to watch you wrap yourself around his cock!" Boris chuckled -- besides, he needed to see his way to the bedroom... ------- "Well, that's turning out better than expected, don't you think?" Armand grinned slyly at Sharon as she huddled beside him. "Uuuhhh!" Sharon moaned, riding the two fingers Armand had inserted into her juicy pussy. Her finger whirled on her clit, Armand having given her permission to augment his efforts moments before. She was deeply embarrassed to be masturbating, but the video, recent events, and Armand's fingers generated a burning need, and she was SOOOOOO close! "Shall we watch the finish, then?" Armand teased, then grasped her left nipple and squeezed, harshly. "AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!" Sharon screamed, throwing back her head and arching herself -- but it was a scream of joy more than a scream of pain, as the intense sensation rocketed her over the brink. Armand shifted the inputs, murmuring, "Maybe I'll fuck you again..." ------- Naked Marco Polo in Jimmy's pool had about seen it's run. Randall caught Darla Jean in short order -- no surprise, given the conspiracy involved -- then, after a whispered conference, Mary, Stick, and Teddy basically drove Jimmy into Darla Jean's arms, after which he made loud, happy noises about being thoroughly felt up, to Amy's amusement. Then Jimmy had very blatantly hunted down Amy, an effort that took several minutes because the others regularly interposed themselves as shields, knowing what was up. Now Jimmy and Amy were necking in the middle of the pool, and the others were reaching the point of discomfort with the cooling water and even cooler air. "I gotta get out," Stick complained. Nobody argued; he was showing a bluish tinge that might have been the pool lighting and might have been cold -- and there were definite goose-bumps. "Me, too!" Teddy announced. Once the exodus had started, the pool was clear in moments, Jimmy going last and berating the others for being lightweights while visibly shivering. Inside the pool house, the groups clustered as couples (and the triple), drying each other and helping each other dress. Mary dragged Stick and Teddy off to the corner on the excuse that it was warmer there, and she wanted Stick warmed up, but the actual purpose was quiet conversation. Stick kicked it off, "Settin' up Jimmy for Darla Jean was fun, but I got the feelin' there was more to it..." Mary grinned, "Well, Jimmy wanted to be caught, bad -- but, yeah, it was more about Darla Jean. Look, guys, can we take Darla Jean and Randall back to my place?" Stick frowned, "Won't that fuck shit up?" He raised an eyebrow and turned to Teddy, who also had visible reservations. "Hear me out, now," Mary cajoled. "Darla Jean and Randall are getting their thing off the ground, but they're different than you and me. I understand kind of dimly what's up, but I'm sure Teddy will understand better, since he's a brain..." Mary grinned; Teddy responded visibly to the verbal stroke. "When couples date, usually there's some romance. By the time they get to sex, there is an emotional commitment." "We didn't really do shit that way," Stick grunted. "Well, we're different, too, but what we have works. But Darla Jean and Randall went at it as sex, too, and are only now looking at romance -- only they're both hothouse brains, so romance is something they're pretty leery of -- get my drift?" Teddy looked thoughtful; Stick grunted, "Okay, so they're stupid..." "That's the problem, Stick! They're NOT stupid! They're both VERY SMART! So they look at things scientifically, instead of just going with the flow!" Mary pressed. "They're suspicious -- frankly, lots of other people ought to be because they get into relationships that won't last based on just feelings -- and feelings change..." Stick turned a dubious expression on Teddy, but Teddy was nodding. "You buyin' this? I thought it was all about feelings..." "Well, it is," Teddy ventured, "but smart people like to be able to find other things, too -- things that indicate that the whole thing makes sense. Things that show that their partners are good for them in some way... Smart people need reasons, not just feelings..." "Okay," Stick allowed, still dubious. "An' all this is goin' -- where?" "Well, for them to be able to prove that one choice is better than another, they need to be able to make comparisons..." Mary resumed. "Mmmm, yes -- and run tests..." Teddy nodded. "What kind of comparisons?" Stick asked suspiciously. "What kind of tests?" Mary sighed, dropping the general conversational level by lowering her voice. "Stick, am I a good fuck?" "Good enough for me..." "Yeah, but is that 'good'?" Teddy took this up -- he was more comfortable with the subject. "How do you know that Mary isn't just okay, and that there isn't a LOT better out there?" "That don't seem to matter to me -- there's other shit involved," Stick grunted. Teddy shrugged. "I couldn't agree more -- but people who are scientifically trained want to know 'how much' and 'why' and stuff like that. So they want to look at more than one version of things." "And?" Mary rolled her eyes. "Darla Jean wants to look at more than one type of pecker, okay? And she wants to know if Randall can handle it!" Stick rocked on his heels. "Well, I wouldn't fuckin' like it if I was him..." "You share me with Teddy..." "That's different, an' you know it!" "Is it?" Mary prodded. "Each of us has ample reason to be jealous of the other two -- but we don't seem to be. Why do you figure that is?" Mary glanced around; obviously, Stick didn't want to keep this quiet. "You guys ready? Let's go outside." The group crossed the room, causing Jimmy to look up, "You guys going?" "Not quite yet," Mary replied, "but soon. We need to make some plans." Jimmy nodded. Darla Jean watched the trio filing out like a hawk; Mary hadn't made any sign... Outside, Mary restarted the conversation, "Well?" "We got other things goin' on -- dependencies. Ted ain't a threat 'cause he an' I got our own... understanding." Stick KNEW what it was, but putting the whole thing into words was hard. "You ain't a threat 'cause you ain't in competition wit' Ted. Ya got... different assets." "Right," Teddy agreed. "We have mutual dependencies and we trust one another. It's more than just sex, it's understanding and tolerance, protection, support..." "That's it," Mary agreed. "It COULD be just sex, but it isn't. We have a relationship. Randall and Darla Jean are working on that piece. Sex works pretty well for them, but it's one-dimensional. Both of them are pretty highly sexed -- something that seems weird, maybe, in hothouse brains, but there it is -- and neither of them has a whole lot of experience. I'm not sure I understand the rest, but Darla Jean's curiosity is killing her..." "They both want to apply their training to what's going on," Teddy explained. "Both of them can separate love and sex, mentally; the question is, can they separate them emotionally? For them to walk the talk, they have to be able to say, 'This is love, and this is sex.' I'm not even sure they're up to saying 'love' -- they might substitute 'commitment', or something. Love kind of bothers scientific types -- it's not quantifiable. To do that kind of experiment, one or both of them has to have sex with someone else..." "Haven't they already done that?" Stick scratched his head. "Well, yeah," Mary replied. "Both of 'em have had sex with a couple of other people in the last week. But they hadn't made any commitments to each other..." "Oh." Stick shook his head -- this was sure complicated. "The bottom line is that Darla Jean hasn't gotten all of the experience she wants," Mary continued. "Randall probably hasn't, either, but Darla Jean broke down and told me that her momma was a wild thing when she was in high school, and Darla Jean has the same needs. She needs to do some crazy shit, if only to get it out of her system. At this point, I don't think she sees any chance of keeping her legs together -- there's too much temptation out there. Randall has to handle that. Ultimately, I think it'll go the other way, too, and she'll have to put up with Randall dipping other girls..." Teddy chuckled, "From his complaints, I'd say that general quality has to go up. Right now, Darla Jean is here," he held his hand up at head level, "and the other chicks he's had are here." This time the hand was a waist level. "If I was Randall, I'd be REAL committed to hanging onto Darla Jean -- the total package fits him a LOT better than anything else around here! Even the sex experiment thing is kind of in the ballpark for him -- he can understand it." "Awright, so, Darla Jean wants to look around, an' Randall is gonna deal with it or die tryin'. Fine. What I don't understand is where WE come in!" Stick groused. "Wellll..." Mary cocked her head and grinned. "You have to admit that tonight was a pretty rare opportunity. You guys got to see four naked girls and we got to see five naked guys. I think you'd agree, though, that it wasn't, like, perfect. I mean, Thelma didn't bend over and spread her legs so you could see her pussy lips or anything. It was out there, but everybody had to be cool and pretend they weren't interested, or anything, and I know I was at fault for some of that..." "Yeah, okay, it woulda been nice to get a better look..." Stick admitted. "Well, the girls had the same problem. Five cocks went by, three or four of them strange -- and we had to pretend we weren't fascinated." Mary eyed Teddy, "Heck, maybe we weren't the only ones..." Teddy colored, but he grinned -- and Stick did, too. "That's one reason there was so much grab- ass in the pool -- and it was why Darla Jean got to be Marco more than once -- she wanted... more..." Stick shrugged. "Okay, so, what does she want? And what do we get out of it? An' what about Randall?" "Well, we haven't exactly negotiated. I imagine she wants a good look, close up, at least -- probably a feel, if she can get it..." Mary hazarded. "That a 'feel' feel, or a 'fuck' feel?" Stick wanted to know. "An' I don' wanna embarrass you, Baby, but Randall might feel kinda shorted..." "Okay, this is a lot of resistance. I'll just tell her, 'no'," Mary sighed. "No, I don't think you gotta do that -- I got no problem with Darla Jean lookin' at my dick -- I just want to make sure she knows it ain't for free! What about, you, Ted?" Teddy shrugged, "I don't know why she'd bother..." "Honey, you're pretty amazing! The whole idea is for her to see different dicks, and yours is CERTAINLY different!" Mary assured him. "Well, okay," Teddy agreed. "But that kinda takes us back to Randall. He obviously was, umm, inclined to be less than tolerant of guys, and I don't know..." His voice trailed off; the fact that Mary's torso was less than appetizing wasn't an issue with Stick or himself, but they couldn't expect that of Randall. No need to rub Mary's nose in it, though... Stick suddenly chortled. "I got an 'experiment' for Randall! We blindfold him, an' you, Ted, an' Darla Jean each give him some head, and see who he picks as best!" The look on his face said he was pretty sure who would win the contest, "I bet he embarrasses the fuck outta himself!" Mary's eyes glittered as the two boys vented their mirth. "You know, he might fall for that!" "He sure might!" Teddy agreed. Stick brought them back to earth with, "Yeah, but we're not talkin' about goin' that far, are we? We talkin' about stickin' dicks in Darla Jean, or Randall stickin' his in you?" Mary pursed her lips, "Ummm, that's a negotiation thing. And it's the far end, I think. Still, it might be smart to talk about it..." "Well?" Stick crooked an eyebrow. "I've had dick before, Hon, and aside from the fact that yours is a more decorative shade, yours and Randall's look about the same. On the other hand, you two have only had me..." "Y'all feel like that's a serious problem?" Stick grunted. Teddy, as was his wont, let Stick lead. "It's a risk," Mary admitted, "but I'm trying to kid myself that it isn't major." "I don't think it is, either, but," Stick swapped glances with Teddy, getting agreement before returning his attention to Mary, "you can make the call." 'This time, ' Mary thought to herself. Sooner or later, one or both of them would trip over some other girl willing to sleep with them -- maybe sooner, now that Stick was less anti-social and Teddy was blooming a bit. It might be better to be there... "So do I tell Darla Jean yes?" "Awright by me," Stick grunted. "But if they start killin' things by bein' there, I'm gonna want 'em gone after Show and Tell. I dunno if Ted wants Randall watchin' him, for one thing..." Teddy DID have reservations. "I'm okay with the basics, but if we go beyond that, well, Stick's right. Randall isn't any too tolerant of guy stuff -- I'm gonna want assurances that he can maintain his objectivity..." "Do you want to be at the negotiation?" Mary asked. "I trust ya. Mebbe Ted should be, 'cause he understands what they're up to. But it needs to be clear that Ted and I got plans; if they can't deal with that, then they gotta blow." ------- Darla Jean and Randall had long since finished dressing, and were cuddled in a recliner, working on their kissing skills. That wide mouth of Darla Jean's was just amazing... Randall pulled back, "Think we ought to go soon?" The other two couples were becoming more and more self-absorbed, too... "We ought to stay and screw them up after last weekend," Darla Jean groused. "Besides, where are we going? My place? Mother might be okay with it, but Dad..." Darla Jean's father was a stick in the mud when it came to sex -- even though Mother swore he was really good at actual execution... "Your place?" "My folks have NO IDEA! I need to bring them along, not just bring you in the house late on a Friday night and announce, 'We're gonna be necking and... stuff... ' Besides, my little brother would drive us NUTS -- and my sister wouldn't be any better." "You have a brother and sister?" "I'm in the middle. Sis is in college -- and should probably be at MIT or somewhere, but she's not the independent type. She'll probably corner you and want to know how you managed to trap me -- so she can use the tactics!" Randall grinned. "Del is a sophomore, and a pest -- he'd probably want to watch." "Well, somehow, I managed not to have THAT complication," Darla Jean laughed. "Look, I have a request in to Mary for us to go to her place -- but of course, they have plans, too..." "Huh! I bet!" Randall grunted. "Something wrong?" Darla Jean chided gently. "It's the Teddy -- Stick Williams thing. I just don't get it." "Surely you knew that Teddy had... leanings?" "Well, yeah, I guess -- but it was kind of subconscious. I knew I'd never have to deal with it, so I could brush it off..." Randall looked away. "That's not very open-minded of you," Darla Jean remonstrated. "Do you have a serious thing about homosexuality, then? What about lesbianism?" "I..." Randall thought about it. His father was SERIOUSLY homophobic... "It's prejudice, I guess. Dad's freaked by anything that smells of gay..." Darla Jean watched him work his way through it; this was what made him different -- the fact that he could pull up his beliefs and examine them, and perhaps, change them... She did offer one obvious question, "Is it possible that he had some kind of experience that caused this?" "Possible, I guess. Like what?" "Jocks have been messing with geeks since forever. I assume your dad is a lot like you..." "Yeah..." Jocks were seriously not in vogue at the Braithewaite home, either. Just about any sports figure was anathema to Randall's father, and Del's campaign to be allowed to play hockey led to screaming fits -- something not normal to Dad at ANY time. And Mom had just stood by and looked sad... "I think maybe you're onto something." "A locker room run-in like I had -- except all guys..." Darla Jean offered a scenario. "Ugh. Pretty traumatic." "I'm just throwing something out -- I could be 'way off..." "Yeah," Randall agreed. "Still, I need to look at things a bit more closely -- and ask some questions." "And for tonight?" Darla eyed him. "I'll work on collecting evidence. You have to admit, though, that Stick is an odd choice..." "Yeah." Darla Jean shook her head. "Ummm, look, there is more to the Mary thing than I let on; we kind of got sidetracked, but there's... other stuff..." "Like what?" Randall gathered himself; he had this feeling... "Mary sort of offered to ask the guys if they'd let me examine them..." Suddenly Darla Jean couldn't hold her new boyfriend's eyes. Randall frowned. "Examine?" "Well, I think the phrase was 'get a look at' or something similar..." Randall sighed, "Is that enough?" "Um, well, I can get performance data from Mary, I think -- but we have no common frame of reference. Still, it's better than nothing." So Darla Jean wanted to 'examine' two other guys' cocks. The up- side appeared to be that she was telling him first, and that he'd be present... "You're jumping right out there -- we don't even have our feet on the ground!" Darla Jean picked at her fingernails. "I know -- but it's kind of a unique opportunity! This pool party thing has been, too, but the limits were almost worse than the opportunities! I know you're not thrilled..." "And if they offer sex? What then?" "That's... too much to ask, I think." Randall couldn't agree more, but he also realized that it was no less than what they'd discussed. "Rules say I can't veto." "Well, no -- not ultimately. But you ARE right -- it IS early..." Randall sighed, "That'd just be an excuse for future backsliding. I want to ask that you don't press, but I guess I shouldn't even do that." "You'd be there..." "I'm not sure that's such a great thing." "Well, you can collect data, too..." "Are you talking about watching, or Mary?" "Either one. Both." "Well..." Randall left it there. Mary wasn't exactly on his hit list, and watching Darla Jean get pumped by another guy... Stick kind of raised the specter of race, too, but Randall didn't want to think about that. "Let's just see..." At that moment, Mary stuck her head in the door, "Darla Jean? Can we talk, Hon?" "Uh, sure..." Darla Jean flashed a glance at Randall, got up, and walked over to Mary, stepping through the door behind her. "What's up?" "I got my boys to agree in principle," Mary began cautiously. "Gee, it was that hard?" Darla Jean asked, floored. "Well, there were issues..." "Okay..." "There was some concern that it might interfere with our plans, for instance." "Plans?" Mary rolled her eyes. "We're gonna have sex. All of us. You know?" She grimaced. "Randall didn't seem cool with that." "We... discussed it. It'll be okay." "Then there were questions about how far it was all gonna go..." Mary shrugged. "We really didn't get into that; it'll have to be negotiated. And kind of a general 'What's in it for me?' kind of thing..." "Oh..." Darla Jean was nonplussed. "What do you want to do, then?" "Well, I think we oughta negotiate -- with guys present. I've got Teddy -- why don't you get Randall?" "Okay." Darla Jean turned to step through the door, but stopped halfway. "Mary, if this is too weird..." "You know, Hon, I really don't know, yet. Let's wait and see -- I REALLY didn't think the boys would show any resistance..." Darla Jean stepped inside and waved to Randall, who joined her at the door, "Believe it or not, there are issues..." "Huh." Randall shrugged and followed her outside. Now that he thought about it, just waving his dick in front of a girl... Mary and Teddy were standing there; Stick was apparently crashed in a lounger several feet away. "Okay, so, the boys had some questions," Mary kicked off. "I didn't really think the whole thing through before I offered, I guess." "Okay," Darla Jean replied. "Why isn't Stick here?" "I have his proxy," Teddy replied. "He figures I'm going to understand your reasons, and if he was here it would be disruptive." "Okay, I guess. So, what are the issues?" "Well, we're planning to... enjoy each other..." Teddy blushed, but he held his ground. "I'm not sure that anybody is planning anything in the way of a swap, but the three of us tend to do things that, well, might squick Randall..." "No, it's okay," Randall responded. "In fact, I'm kind of embarrassed about earlier. It's a prejudice I had installed at home, and I wasn't thinking. I'm cool now." Teddy examined his face for a moment and nodded. Mary took over, "I guess the next two questions are the critical ones: Just what are we talking about doing? And what's in it for the boys?" Darla Jean looked flustered. "I-I guess I didn't think much beyond a close examination -- you know, a look, maybe some touching. 'Show and Tell', kind of." Mary looked critical. "That could be very clinical or very exciting, depending on how it's handled. While I hesitate to ask, is that enough?" "Well, I figured I could get ummm, performance data from you..." Mary chuckled, "Like, how good they are?" "Yeah." Randall surprised everyone by interjecting, "Of course, there is a problem; the pair of you don't have anything calibrated in the way of a mutual frame of reference..." Mary looked surprised. "You mean, like, we don't know if what's good for me is good for Darla Jean?" They were drifting toward fucking, here -- and Randall was driving! Mary eyed him critically. "Yes." Randall limited himself to the monosyllable. He'd raised the whole issue out of fairness, but the look on Mary's face asked the question, 'So, you want to fuck me?' Darla Jean leaped into the breach, "I, uh, figure we can talk our way through it. It's not very scientific, maybe, but..." "Yeah," Mary grunted, "There are complications." "Besides," Darla Jean added, "If we go ahead after and go with the plan of having sex with our partners, I'll get to see everybody's response curves..." "There's that," Teddy agreed, "although I'm not sure how skewed the data would be in front of an audience." "True," Randall agreed. "The presence of an audience could either stimulate or suppress the response of either partner..." Mary laughed. "I think THIS is why Stick chose to sit this one out! You guys are playing over my head..." "Well, both of us girls have done multiples, as embarrassing as it is for me to admit it," Darla Jean posited. "The guys might have some performance anxiety, but..." "I can't understand why you even want to bother with mine," Teddy interjected. Darla Jean favored him with a look of surprise. "Even a glance says you're not average, Teddy. I'm trying to collect a complete dataset. You appear to have unique proportions..." "Yeah, I'm small..." "Small would be normal, I think. You looked very thick to me -- unusually so. I'm looking forward to the examination," Darla Jean assured him. "That kinda brings us to the other thing," Mary interjected. "What's in it for my boys?" "Ummmm, you had something in mind?" Darla Jean asked carefully. Just being examined isn't enough? "Yeah." Mary gathered herself. "My boys need more data, too. Thus far, all either of them has seen is me -- and I'm not exactly on the upper end of things. While I'm not so sure I want to show them just how poorly they've done, there probably ought to be some tit for tat..." Darla Jean blinked. Flashing a glance at Randall, she agreed, "That's... fair... For that matter, it is a data gathering opportunity for you and Randall, too..." Randall opened his mouth... and shut it. Darla Jean was correct, and embarrassing Mary with denials would be rude, to say the least. "That's true," he agreed cautiously. "I'm not sure I need any, but I guess it won't hurt," Mary hazarded. Poor Randall! At least she got to look at a decent dick! "I'm not sure how much farther we can go, here," Teddy announced brusquely. "To re-cap, everyone agrees to a physical examination of their sexual attributes, and everyone agrees that there will be more or less unrestricted in-relationship sex which may be at least peripherally witnessed by the other parties without interference. The door is open to further experimentation, based on the comfort level of those involved." "Wow! Do I have to sign something?" Darla Jean tittered. "I'm just laying it out," Teddy responded, slightly miffed. "It's an unusual set of circumstances." He eyed Randall. Randall got it. "Actually, it IS a unique data gathering opportunity... Agreed." His approval was important on several levels, he realized, and the possibility that he might witness homosexual acts WAS unique... "Girls?" "I'm game," Mary replied. "It's... pretty much optimal," Darla Jean agreed. "Then I guess we're pretty much done here," Teddy announced. "Besides, we're probably cutting into the other guys' playtime. I'll go get my car; Mary, you want to say good night to Jimmy for us?" Teddy headed off, collecting Stick on his way. "Sure, Hon. I'll be right along." Mary replied. My, my -- so much in charge, all of a sudden... "We'll have to follow separately," Darla Jean murmured. "Randall, do you know where Mary lives?" "No." "I do -- in case we get left behind... I guess one benefit of being a couple will be less gas money through car pooling, huh?" Her eyes sparkled. Randall grinned, nodding. "I guess so. Shall we go say goodnight?" ------- Chapter 42: Various Incidents of Voyeurism "Why don't you see if you can tease another erection out of me, my dear? Position yourself so you can see, and I can use my hands on you..." Armand murmured as he punched combinations on the video selector. Boris's bedchamber wasn't exactly a highlights site... Neither was Ed's sitting room, where he surprised Ed and Velma sitting on the couch sharing a blanket! "Whoa!" "Ohmigod!" Sharon gasped, looking up from her handful of Armand's cock as she settled in on hands and knees beside him. "When did THAT happen?" Armand chuckled. "Within the last week -- I guarantee it! I said something to Ed the other day after eavesdropping on Velma. I'd no idea that she was frustrated..." "Ed's a little old for her, isn't he?" "Beggars can't be choosers, on either end," Armand chuckled. "Velma's horizons are EXTREMELY limited by her weight and shyness, and Ed's social skills are similarly limited. Let's roll this back and see how they got there..." Armand rewound the take to the point where Ed answered his door and rolled it forward from there, being sure to catch the dialog. "You getting this?" "Mmmm," Sharon released Armand's now solid erection with a pop. "This isn't their first time." "Right -- but it looks like the second. IF it comes off..." "It will," Sharon posited. "Let's see how they get under that blanket." Armand scrolled along, slowing for dialog. Sharon tittered. "They're hilarious!" "I guess he visited her a couple of days ago. Maybe we can find THAT later..." Armand hit the big beer spill and slowed down for the whole show. Sharon cracked up. "That was ingenious! I didn't know Velma had it in her!" Armand scrolled through to her return. "Oh, my! That's just as good!" "Okay, we'll come back for the whole show," Armand chuckled, "But I bet we're missing Boris and Leticia..." "Mmmmm, Boris and Natasha?" Sharon quipped, and returned her oral attentions to Armand's erection. Armand chuckled, and went back to hunting among the cameras. In a moment, after a couple more false starts, he got it... Boris was already at work between Leticia's splayed thighs. He'd lost no time at all; Leticia was in full submissive mode, and had herself in place, waiting, when he entered the room. Instead of crawling immediately between her thighs, though, Boris had grunted, "Play with yourself, little one! I have nothing here to get you wet." In the meantime, he'd knelt up on the bed beside her head and presented his cock for more sucking. Leticia was beside herself. Masturbation in front of the big man was embarrassing, to say the least, but the reasoning behind it made good sense. Boris kept controlling her, this time by sliding his big, hard paw under head, cradling it, but driving her onto his erection. "Da. You suck good, little slut! But Boris fill your pussy, this time, nyet?" He started mauling her right nipple with his other hand, sending mixed flashes of pleasure and pain shooting though her. "Push in two fingers, little one -- open yourself up for Boris..." Leticia moaned, and wet, sloppy sounds began issuing from her crotch. "Do not cum! You cum on Boris, little slut, or you do not cum at all!" He looked toward her crotch to gauge her progress, "You are ready, then?" Leticia thought so! She'd been damp, anyway -- getting two fingers going hadn't been hard, and something about his jamming her head onto his chubby cock kept bringing rushes of wetness... "Mmmm hmmm!" she agreed, augmenting her gurgle with eye contact. Boris knew better. When the Boss brought in women, Boris usually settled for sloppy seconds, because his thick length was difficult for a woman to take in unprepared. Leticia's two slim fingers wouldn't prepare her fully for something with more normal girth, never mind HIS cudgel -- but then, he wanted her to know he'd been there, anyway. "Make it very wet!" he admonished. Leticia made every effort to soak it with saliva, but she wasn't exactly practiced. Boris extracted himself from her mouth and circled to between her legs, threading his forearms under her shoulders and lifting her legs. "Now you take Boris! Now you feel a man!" Boris positioned his blunt glans at her opening. It was puffy, and there was a lot of pink showing in the groove between the dark lips, but... Leticia's eyes widened; what was that thing, a baseball bat? The spongy tip wedged in place and Boris began to force it -- and Leticia knew pain! "Aaahhh!" "Da. You are surprised, eh? Skinny little slut -- this thing is not for men, nyet? Only for women? Only for fingers and tongues?" "No!" Leticia gasped. "I have... men..." "Huh," Boris grunted. "Not many. Not often. This pussy -- no stretch! No problem -- Boris stretch it for you..." He was, too! The blunt head was mostly in and he was rocking back and forth, taking advantage of his foreskin to slide the hard flesh beneath back and forth in small increments, slowly defeating the nibbling muscles of her opening. For Leticia, the pain was already easing as her vaginal muscles lost the contest and began to admit his thick girth -- but there were still several inches worth of territory to be fought over... If she wasn't watching the whole thing, she'd have sworn that he was jamming his fist into her! She'd had longer -- Mr. Wilson topped Boris by at least two inches, and she'd had a couple of boyfriends with some length -- but she'd never seen anything so thick, let alone FELT it... Boris sawed back and forth, slowly claiming more territory, and as the pain dropped away, she became aware of every nerve ending in her lower vagina as Boris's thick club stretched and ironed her inner walls. Meanwhile, Boris was grunting and grumbling, "Skinny little bitch! Boris should lie on his back and screw you onto him like light bulb! Why you not use this thing? You are frigid, maybe, eh?" "N-no..." Leticia liked her sex, but since Mr. Wilson there hadn't been a whole lot of it in her life. Being on call six days a week, twenty- four hours a day didn't leave her much time to hunt men -- or, more accurately, for men to hunt her. Mr. Wilson demanded sex, but on an infrequent basis, and usually, he wanted a blowjob -- something about choking her while feeling her soft mouth -- not vaginal sex. In fact... Now that she thought about it, Mr. Wilson had done her the 'normal' way about three times -- and there had always been something else going on -- something that made it NOT normal. Things like retaining a two quart soapy enema with the help of an inflatable butt plug, or simultaneously sucking the cock of some complete stranger -- or worse, sucking the cock of someone she'd known in the old days... No, aside from the identity of the beefy, balding, bearded bear that was in the process of wedging his thick cock into her, this was about the closest to 'normal' sex that she'd been in over a year... "Hmph. I am not convinced. This fit like a vise, a virgin -- not like woman who likes sex! Boris has to open you up..." Boris grunted. "It's... been a while, I admit it. Mr. Wilson had the right, but he seldom exercised it. And I was... saving myself..." "For the Boss, eh?" Boris grunted a laugh. "Loyalty is a good thing, but there are too many women in the dacha -- the Boss does not have time to service them all. And you -- you are perhaps not the favorite?" "No." The accusation stung; the admission stung worse. However things may have started -- whatever dreams existed in her head -- to Mr. Wilson, she was JUST a maid now. The fact that he used her, very occasionally, was irrelevant -- he did that to literally every woman he came into contact with. The fact that he owned her, lock, stock, and barrel did not make her special -- that was why she was here, doing penance for the belief that she was special and could pass judgment on others... "You fuck Boris, then. You make it good for Boris, eh?" Resolution firmed her, "Yes, I'll make it as good as I know how..." The fact that the big bastard's heavy cock was stretching and exposing every nerve in her vagina made it easy to let go, to embrace the situation that found her there, being ridden by him. Leticia arched her back and wriggled her ass, inviting him in deep. As a side-effect, pleasure erupted, and began to build, "Oh, God!" "Da." Boris was puffing a bit, but he was hitting his mark. "Is good, yes?" "Yessss..." Boris's pubic bone was now, finally, bashing hers on his jackhammer down-stroke; movements that had started out deliberate for both of them were going on automatic as the rewards started rolling in. Leticia's hips rolled as she rose to meet him. That's where Armand and Sharon found them, just getting their rhythm... From Sharon's perspective, Boris's big belly should have gotten in the way, perhaps, but it seemed smaller, somehow, despite his position atop Leticia. The side view that the bedroom camera afforded showed Boris driving himself into Leticia like a machine, at a measured pace that was nonetheless probably twice a second. Leticia reached up and grasped his shoulders, obviously using the leverage to arch herself and provide him with better penetration. Armand murmured "Hmmmm," and punched a couple of buttons, and the display shifted to a dead-on view of the actual coupling taken from somewhere beyond the foot of the bed. Armand zoomed it some, but the whole thing was pretty anonymous; you couldn't really see Boris's cock, just his heavy balls slapping Leticia's ass. You could see that ass rising, though, the thigh muscles flexing... Sharon started waving her hand, and Armand sighed, rolling his eyes. "Just use your hands, then, so you can talk..." She'd either have to spit regularly to maintain lubrication or let it dry, but her commentary WAS contributing to his enjoyment... "Back it off a little, please," she asked through puffy lips. Armand exercised the control and the frame began to widen. "There! See that? See how her toes point and her hips flex? She's enjoying it! If he thinks he's hurting her, he's wrong..." "I don't think he does," opined Armand. "I think he's just... mastering her. If she enjoys it -- especially if it is against her will -- that's a powerful tool. Another shot?" "Mmmm, please. This one isn't any too revealing." Sharon had the presence of mind to be VERY careful with her ex-husband; irritating him was counter-productive, and this evening, here, in this bed, was their closest approach to equality in decades. This moment was very special, and she would do whatever she must to preserve it. Armand shifted to an overhead shot from the vicinity of the head of the bed; apparently, he had mastered the list of assets available. Leticia's head was going back and forth every few strokes, her eyes glassy, her nostrils flaring to her hoarse breathing. Her nipples were elongated spikes protruding above crumpled areolae, their bittersweet chocolate color heightened by their tension. Her hands clutched Boris's hairy shoulders rhythmically. As they watched, her lips drew back in a rictus, and she rotated her head to the front. As she tilted it back, her eyelids began to flutter as her eyes rolled up, "Oooooooohhhhhh!!" "Yeah, she's enjoying it, all right," Armand chuckled. On screen, Boris puffed, "You like? You must... be the... real woman... now! The bull rises... and you must... take... his charge..." Boris was losing it -- it had been years since he'd let himself go fully with a woman -- even whores, whom he considered unworthy of his seed, usually got it, but not the full release of his inner tension that went with it. That, he held back -- they didn't deserve it, and he didn't trust them; besides the power of his full release might cause them fear or injury, and he'd be vulnerable while he recovered, afterward. Boris had a bit of berserker in him, and this was where it released itself. He pretty much figured that he could let go here, now, with the little negress, and not only fulfill his own needs, but those of the Boss, too... Intelligent response was impossible for Leticia; she was there, triggered, surging and clutching, her eyes rolled up while the shock waves tore through her, "Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod..." She was just beginning to come down off the peak when Boris shifted gears. Leticia's completion stripped all control from Boris; the rumble in his throat matched the roaring in his ears as he suddenly almost doubled the power of his strokes, hammering Leticia at an incredible rate! Keeping up with him was starkly impossible, so Leticia clutched herself to him, tensing and lifting her hips to provide him the best angle while his hands seemed to be everywhere at once. He was no longer leaning on them, but was using them to pull her nipples and drive stubby fingers into her hair at the sides of her head -- then they were gone and tracing her flanks. Leticia tried to lace her fingers behind his neck, but he was too broad, and the effort got in the way of his hands -- and all the time his cock kept pounding, pounding, pistoning in then igniting the spark from her clitoris as his pubic bone hammered it and driving the outstroke. They were a crazy engine, revving higher and higher... Then he PICKED HER UP in his big hands and held her there, above the bed, while her battered her and she clutched his head. The next thing she knew, they were kissing, his thick tongue invading her mouth, his teeth shifting to chew at her puffy lower lip... It hurt and there was blood, but she didn't care; he sucked it and his tongue returned, and... Boris threw his head back, "Da! Da! DAAAAAAAAA!!!!!" He crushed Leticia against his crotch like she was an inflatable doll, and his heavy balls drew up nearly inside of him before the release of the first pulse of his mighty orgasm. Leticia hung there, impaled, but her eyes rolled up and she screamed, "AAIIIIIIEEEEEEE!!!!" as the first jet of several of Boris's seed splashed into her quaking vagina. Boris came to himself kneeling upright on the bed, holding the little negress in his arms while she pulsed and clutched him, semi- conscious, moaning "Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!" in sync with the clutch of her pussy on his still rampant cock. Boris was done, though, washed out, muscle lock the only thing holding him upright. He lowered her gently and covered her, then rolled them both over so that she lay atop him, still linked by the juncture of her tight sheath and his still-engorged cock. It was time to sleep; she would be there when he awoke... It was true; Leticia wasn't going anywhere. She was only semi- conscious, and her only imperative was to clutch herself to the mountain of muscle slowly relaxing under her. She bored her face into his neck and began to snore, blood from her split lower lip dripping onto his neck, unheeded. ------- Sharon and Armand lay transfixed. "WOW!" Sharon gasped. Armand's cock was blued steel in her hand and she wanted it, BAD! "That was..." "I ought to sell that to a porn production company -- it would make a mint!" Armand grunted, gasping as Sharon's hand moved on a cock suddenly oversensitive. "Climb on that -- if I don't last, I'll think of something else to do for you, after..." Sharon did as she was told, gladly, riding cowgirl. Armand fit her like a hand in a glove and she was just as over-stimulated as he was; the feel of him sinking into her that first time was ecstasy, and his practiced hands on her breasts only made it better. They were both too over- stimulated to last; two dozen strokes found Sharon trying to continue while grunting out her orgasm -- but then Armand, triggered, began blasting in her, and they matched pulses while Armand squeezed her sensitive nipples to the rhythm of their mutual completion. "Oh, God!" Sharon swayed in place, the aftermath of their completion having washed her out. Armand pulled her down to him, "Lay down here, beside me, you silly bitch, while you get your breath..." She rolled off him and plastered herself to his left side. "Want to see how Ed and Velma are doing?" "Forgive me -- I can't do any more for a while," Sharon gasped. "I don't think I can, either, after that -- but Ed and Velma are likely to be comic relief..." Armand switched scenes. ------- The pair in question hadn't done much in the interim. Ed was playing with Velma's neck and ears, but anything more demonstrative required that he do something overt. Velma's heavy breasts were effectively in her lap, unreachable around her broad shoulders, and Ed could move that hand on her neck and try to burrow between her legs to get at her pussy, but that, too would take a major effort and be impossible to ignore. On TV, some hooker was playing a john like a violin, getting him worked up enough to select her from her colleagues, and in the process exciting him to the point that when they got down to business, he wouldn't last long. Watching, knowing that Ed was there beside her had her hot -- literally hot -- throwing off waves of body heat, sweating... "We shoulda done a sheet -- dis thing is hotter'n Hell, thin as it is..." "So I gotta strip my whole fuckin' bed?" Ed grunted, but a glance told Velma he was grinning. He eyed her, challengingly, "You wanna sheet, then?" "Well..." What was he grinning about? "I'll go get it." Ed made a show of martyred patience, but both of them knew better. In a moment, he was back, holding a sheet -- but not offering it. "So gimme the blanket..." "Y'all gimme da sheet, then." "Not'll I get the blanket..." "Ah'm nekkid under here!" "Yah." Ed was grinning from ear to ear. "Ed!" "What? You're parked on my couch, waitin' fer me to do somethin'. This is it!" Ed announced, a malicious gleam in his eye. A half our earlier, that would have been the end of it, but Velma had all but chugged two beers and she wasn't really that tolerant of alcohol. She was giddy and flustered, and hot... "Awright, it's yoah funeral..." She flipped back the blanket. "Dat what y'all wanna see, ya perverted bastid?" "Yah." God, she was big, all right. Fuckin' jugs were the size of watermelons and rested on her bulging belly. Her pudenda was invisible, hidden in a triangular indentation between the roll of her belly and her huge thighs -- Ed couldn't even see fur. Velma was NOT sitting with her knees together -- but she'd have to splay herself widely to grant anyone access to her cunt... Ed's eyes kind of bulged, but he maintained a poker face. Slowly he teased her with the sheet, making her grab for it and snatching it back a couple of times before finally allowing her to grab it. Grinning, he collected the blanket and moved off. Velma busied herself with draping the sheet, covering her humiliation with, "Now you embarrassed da shit outta me an' made yo'self sick, Ah need 'nothah bottle o' dat dog piss..." "Awright." Ed folded the blanket and tossed it on the bed, listening to mumbled complaints from Velma about not even providing decent materials to ply a woman with liquor. The woman was godawful huge -- why was she still there? Why the fuck hadn't he put her ass out? Ed pondered this as he returned to the sitting room to raid the refrigerator. Shit, only two more beers... He headed for the closet to uncover his three- quarters full case and snatch out a six-pack. Well, lessee... Despite the fact that they ranted at each other constantly, (fuck, he didn't know how to talk to no woman!), neither one of them managed to take offense and they seemed to, well, communicate... Ed opened the refrigerator and fished out the two cold ones, setting them on the floor while he loaded the six-pack. Then there was them humongous jugs -- they was fuckin' miraculous! How in fuck did she carry them around? Ed didn't really think of himself as a fan of big, floppy tits, but they were an eye-magnet, no denying it! He snatched the bottle opener from where it hung magnetically from the refrigerator door and absently popped the caps, despite the fact that they were twist-off, still ruminating. The last thing wasn't visible right now, kinda like the first; he'd been in that cunt -- twice -- and it worked just fine. Better'n fine, actually... He tossed the caps in the trash and turned, to come face to face with Velma's most visible attractors! Velma had gone for the original below the shoulders drape she'd used with the blanket -- but she was tipsy -- okay, she was looped, since alcohol hit her metabolism like a ton of bricks -- and the ole bastid was foolin' with her -- playin' with her neck for twenty fookin' minutes, then playin' blanket games and oglin' her ass while she sat there, buck nekkid... What did a gal hafta do ta git her itch scratched, fer shit's sake? Very deliberately, she rearranged the sheet so that it rode under her breasts, rucking it up to the point that it was pinned under the big hanging orbs. 'Now, by damn, he'll shit or get offa the fookin' pot!' she thought, nodding to herself. Ed nearly dropped the bottles! Ho lee shit! The plain white sheet under them made her monster melons look even bigger, and her huge nipples begged to be suckled. Ed didn't really want beer, any more... "Whatchew lookin' at?" Velma asked calmly, "Ah figgered Ah'd turn down da sheet -- y'all seen it all, anyways..." "Uh, yeah..." Ed's brain wasn't working. Why were they so hot? The woman was deformed... "Y'all are blockin' da TV..." "Right." Ed had no comeback; he handed Velma her beer, still mapping her jugs with his eyes, and returned to his seat on her left, flipping the sheet over himself. He draped the arm again -- technically, he had more territory -- but at this point, he was URGENTLY unhappy that he couldn't find an excuse to play with a monster melon. His beer was forgotten, hanging out there on the end of his arm, tying up a hand he could be using... Wups! Everything seemed to circle back to Velma's giant-sized chest. TV was TOTALLY forgotten; Ed was staring... "Uh, Ed?" "Yeah?" "Ah, uh, shouldn'ta axed for dis beer. Ah get drunk real quick." "I oughta make ya chug it." "Ah figger y'all'd probly rather Ah was awake..." Ed snorted. "That bad?" "Yeh. Ah cain't really tolerate it." "That why ya hung out the hooters?" "Uh huh. Stupid, huh?" Velma made to cover herself. "Leave 'em. I like 'em." "Ah guess! Y'all ain't took yoah eyes off 'em!" Velma chuckled. "Wasn't that the idea?" "Well, yeah..." "Gimme the beer." Ed got up and took it, carrying it over to the counter. He eyed his, but it had gotten in the way, too, so it followed its mate. What he had to do was get a clear invitation -- like those tits weren't? Fuck it. Ed plopped back down on the couch, sliding back under the sheet. "Whew! Even this is hot!" "Sorry." Velma eyed him a moment to see if follow-up was warranted, then went back to pretending to watch TV. "I'm gonna shuck these sweats..." Ed took advantage of the sheet to slide them off and toss them aside, then plastered his leg against Velma's. "Y'all got hairy laigs," Velma murmured, dropping a hand on his thigh. "Ya think?" Ed grinned. "I'm a man -- I don't shave 'em." He dropped a hand onto Velma's heavy thigh and began sliding it around. "Pretty smooth. You like that all the time?" "Uh," Velma grunted, embarrassed. How did HE know she'd shaved for him? "Not alla time... I, uh, done it a coupla days ago." Ed just looked at her. A couple of days ago, he'd busted into her room -- and the fur on her legs had been long enough to be soft... "Okay, well, yestiddy." Velma allowed. 'Probably a couple of hours ago... ' Ed figured, but he let her off the hook, nodding. Meanwhile, he had a handful of surprisingly dense flesh. He moved the hand around, testing his limits, drifting into the hot inner thigh area. Velma would have to open up for him to cover more ground, but he could tease her, at least. Velma let her hand wander, too -- but Ed wasn't as well-protected. "Hey, ain't you wearin' nothin under there?" "Oh, sure. Briefs," Ed lied. "Ah doan..." Ed's cock was tenting the sheet -- no way was he wearing underwear! "Whazzat, den?" Her hand encountered his stiffness, "Ain't no..." Oh, Lordy, she had a handful of his tallywhacker! Part of her wanted to snatch her hand away -- but the other part wouldn't let her. "Y'all lied ta me!" "You didn't believe me anyway..." "Yeah, but..." Velma thought about it; it didn't seem to matter, now. Now she had a handful of it, maybe they could quit foolin' around... It was hot and hard and silky-smooth, but she could feel the ropy veins under the skin... Her hand slid up and down the shaft automatically. Ed grunted. Velma's hand wasn't no soft thing, but it seemed to be actually better for jerking him off than a soft one would have been! He started digging in her lap to return the favor, but, "Damn, I can't get at it! Spread 'em!" "Awright." A big thigh lifted and draped itself over his, pinning him, but the other leg shifted a bit, too, and she was open to his hand. Ed remembered the territory from a couple of nights before; wiping his hand up and down over it caused her lips to pop open and wetness to spring up in her slot while a pretty good-sized clit reared against his fingers. "Ahhhh," Velma moaned, "Howcum dat's so much better when yo' do it?" "Talent," Ed grinned. He reached around with his left hand and started mauling Velma's fat left nipple with three fingers. "Agghh!!" Velma moaned, and took advantage of Ed's cramped position to press her lips to his neck and suck. "Wo!" Ed's neck lit up like a Christmas tree, the sensations growing goose-bumps all over his body! "Jeezus, Woman! You want me to pop in your hand?" "Uh uh," Velma moaned, "Ah want it buried deep down dere where it belongs!" "Mebbe we oughta quit fuckin' around and fu..." Ed shut up. How in Hell did the woman bring out the idiot in him? 'Quit fuckin' around and fuck' Duh! "Uh kay," Velma grunted, but she didn't move. Ed had two fingers in her and his thumb on her nubbin; that drained all of her willpower. She went back to neck-sucking. Besides, she was gonna pop any second... "Ngoooooo!" she moaned into his neck as the flash of a small orgasm rolled over her. Ed grinned. Nothing like knowing your efforts were effective! "You want fingers, or you want a dick?" "Ah wanna dick!" Velma husked. "Then quit usin' me for a prop, and head for the bedroom!" Ed withdrew the hand doing wonderful things in Velma's cooze, leaving an immediate feeling of emptiness. "Awright. Gimme da sheet!" Velma began to scrabble up out of the couch. "Leave them jugs showin'. If you want me to poke somethin' it better be showin', too, when I get in there!" Ed killed the TV and the lights, eyeing Velma's broad back over the bed sheet as she waddled out of the room. The lights took no time, so Ed arrived while Velma was still trying to figure out how to arrange herself on the bed without exposing any more than necessary. "Damn, you're slow!" "Ah don' want y'all seein'..." "Life sucks, don't it? I gotta think for ya? Come 'round here to the foot and back onto the bed..." It almost didn't work; Velma plopped on the foot of the bed and the head end popped up. "Get up there, before the damned thing falls apart!" Velma gingerly backed on one hand, the other clutching the sheet. Finally, she dropped her head on the pillow, still holding the sheet under her melons, tenting it with her raised spread knees. "What am I fuckin'?" Ed grunted. Cain't see anything..." "Oh!" Velma started scrabbling; the result was a strip of sheet bunched to obscure her ample middle while basically everything else was exposed. "Howzat?" FINALLY, Ed could see Velma's pussy! The dark chocolate exterior sure set off the shocking pink insides... Ed crawled up on the bed and hunkered down for a closer look. "Nice! Juicy!" Velma's clit had some size to it, like everything else -- nothing monstrous, but you could find it REAL easy... Puffy outer lips over thin inner ones were topped by the kinky pubes that forested her chubby mound. "Aww, Ed! Why you got to embarrass me?" Velma covered her face. "Dunno," Ed replied absently. "Fun I guess..." He raised himself and plopped his hands on Velma's spread knees, "So, you want some dick?" "Whatchew think? Goddam it, Ed, quit... Aaaaaahhhh!!" Ed's glans passed her opening, and the time for talk was over. It was every bit as good as the first time; Ed just couldn't believe it. Description -- aside from the word 'perfect' -- wasn't possible! He sank into her slowly, as her tunnel opened for him, flowering open around the blunt head of his cock. How on Earth could a woman this big have such a tiny cunt? Goddamn, it was good, though... The look on Velma's face said that her whole attention was centered on the invasion. "How's that?" "Oooooohhhhh gaaaaawwwdddd, uuuuuuuhhhhh!" Velma moaned eyes glassy. "Yeah, me, too..." Ed reached down and collected a couple of stiff nipples, eliciting another groan, then started to hunch and drive, slowly. Velma decided that Ed could talk nasty all he wanted, as long as he kept sinkin' that pole of his in her cooze! That first night had been a real eye-opener, but she figured that once she knew what she was up to and developed expectations, the wonder of the thing would drop off. Not so! The bastid just lit her up with dat thing! After only three or four strokes, Velma was already transfixed, watching her first orgasm come rolling in, "Ooohhh, gawd! Ah'm gonna... NNNNNNNGGGGGHHHHH!!!!" Velma stiffened and started clutching Ed, inside and out, her hands clutching his to her splayed knees while her tunnel tightened around him. Ed grinned and continued making meat deliveries, slowed only a bit by her straining and grunting. Velma was by far the fastest woman to get a nut that Ed had ever seen! Most of 'em just laid there and let you wonder; Velma cranked one right out and went lookin' for seconds! It was sure a big ego booster... It made a difference in how you dealt with her, too; Ed was pretty much in the fast lane to get his own nut -- but when he hit the point of no return about three minutes in, Velma was obviously in final approach for her second. If he hadn't KNOWN she was close, he'd have just cut loose, rolled off, and that would have been that. But he DID know -- her pants and exclamations and tosses of her head told him she was on the edge -- so he rolled right through his nut, staggering a bit but gamely pounding on while his dick screamed 'overload!' A couple of seconds later, Velma wailed again, and it was all worth it; when she came down, she was sloppy with his goo but he was still hard, so he kept pounding. The second round took ten or twelve minutes, and left him totally torched -- but Velma got three more and brought him along with her for the last one. Ed's back was gone, his knees felt like they were locked in position -- but when he collapsed across those big titties, everything shook out and he went boneless. "When you gotta get up?" he croaked. "Fo' fo'ty five." "Jeezus!" Ed groaned. "Well, mebbe five thirty..." Velma re-thought her position. "Only got one alarm," Ed grunted, waving vaguely at the nightstand. "Roll me out about six-thirty, if I live." "Hokay." Velma collected the clock and puzzled out it's alarm function. " 'Sides, y'all GOTTA live -- ah cain't do without dis shit, now!" But Ed was already snoring peacefully. ------- Armand chuckled quietly and shut off his monitor. Sharon slept next to him, using his stomach for a pillow. In the morning, he'd have to abuse her a bit -- anal sex would do quite nicely -- in order to keep her from getting ideas, but the evening had been quite enjoyable. Maybe Sharon could become a Switch -- that might be fun for her; in any case, she was at the top of the submissive totem pole here, and would undoubtedly remain so. Armand composed himself for sleep, satisfied with the day. ------- "Mom? Can I stay at Nora's overnight?" Bess Porter took a look at the alarm clock and grunted into the phone, "It's damn near morning anyway, 'Nisha! What're you doing out so late?" "We came here after the movie, and, well, time got away from us..." "What do her folks say?" "It's okay; they've got a spare room all ready!" "Really?" Bess was bothered; something sounded odd. She didn't remember Nora's family being well-to-do... "This is Nora's place?" "Well, it's her daddy's house, Mom. Nora and her mom moved back in with him. He's, well, rich!" "Draper still there?" "Yes, Mom." The vocals conveyed the fact that Tenisha was rolling her eyes. "Would I have lost track of time if he wasn't?" "Maybe not," Bess chuckled. "Let me talk to Nora." Tenisha handed Nora the phone. "We waited pretty late, so now Mom's suspicious." "Hello?" Nora said. "Nora, what do your folks think of this staying all night thing?" Bess asked. "Oh, they approved it, specifically, hours ago!" Nora replied. "How come nobody called THEN?" "Ummm, Draper wasn't thrilled with the idea at the time, as I recall..." Nora replied. "Daddy's kind of an odd duck," Nora added. "Draper wasn't sure that we were going to get any privacy." "Uh huh." Clear, this wasn't. "And now?" "I'll let you talk to him." Nora handed Draper the phone. "H'lo," Draper murmured. "So, what's the deal, there, Boy, and why wasn't you happy about it?" Bess prompted. "Awww, it's okay. Pretty good, actually -- I guess they made up a room for us." "So why was you skittish?" "Nora's dad is kinda snoopy. I was kinda upset that he might get to diggin' in my shit." Specifics like video monitoring didn't seem to be a good idea to get into -- besides, the video WAS kinda fun to look at... "So this is really cool with her parents?" "Yeah." "They givin' y'all separate rooms?" "No. They know we're, uh..." "And they know we approve, too? How?" Bess wanted to know. "Well, like I said -- Nora's dad is... snoopy. He's gotta shitload of money and his own bunch private eyes..." "Yeah? So? What makes you two interesting?" "Where was we Prom night?" Draper returned. "Ummm..." He couldn't think of a way to be delicate about it, so... "Nate took Nora's cherry on your couch..." "Oh, shit!" Various implications whirled through Bess' brain. "Naw, it's okay. Dude LIKES Nate -- thinks he's done alright for hisself!" "This IS Nate Adams we're talkin' about?" Draper covered the mouthpiece. "I'm fuckin' this up. This thing gotta speaker?" Nora looked about. "Yeah. One second." She clicked a button. Tenisha picked that moment to squawk, "Jeezus, Baby! Mom's gonna freak!" "Well, she wants ta know specifically why Nora's daddy would approve o' Nate. Shit -- how am I gonna carry THAT ball? If I was him, I'd 'a strung Nate up!" Draper grunted, irritated. He glanced at Nate. "Shit, don't look at me!" Nate exclaimed. "All I know is it's true! If Nora's daddy wanted my ass, I'd be a greasy spot -- instead, his people are payin' Mama's hospital bills!" Bess alerted the rest of the room that she was listening by blurting, "He is?" That Nate's mother had been attacked had been a subject of breakfast table conversation a couple of days ago, but this angle was news... Nora decided to interject, "Daddy has certain ideas about inheritance and responsibility and a bunch of other things. Nate, well, the real reason Nate used to get into trouble was that he's kind of... high strung... and I have a cure for that..." Bess chuckled. "You mean he's a horny little bastard, don'tcha Honey?" Nora giggled, "Yeah." "Howcum your daddy put up with a black boy popping your cherry?" "Ummm, because it went well?" Nora replied. "If it had been just that, and Nate had treated me poorly, things would have been a lot different -- but we're... good for each other. Daddy has some extremist views on love and sex, but in most cases they boil down to 'live and let live'. He and Mom probably did better than they thought they were doing, but they ARE divorced, and Daddy has had a revolving door to his bedroom since, looking for a replacement, so he told me that he didn't feel qualified to pick out my boyfriends. He also said something about it being stupid to attempt to meddle and have the whole thing backfire." She smiled. "That was in the early going; now, I don't think he has ANY reservations." She eyed her boyfriend lovingly. "Hmph." Bess regrouped. "Back to tonight, I guess. Y'all really got room?" "You kidding?" Nora replied. "This place is a mansion!" "Yeah, well, how many bedrooms is a mansion? Five, six?" "I don't think that'd cover the servant's quarters, Ma'am." Nora chuckled. "Call me Bess, Hon. I don't suppose I can talk to your folks?" "Well, they went to bed hours ago... Hang on a second." Nora went to the door. ------- "We-ench..." "Huh?" The Wench raised her head from where she'd fallen asleep in the hallway, sitting on the floor with her arms crossed over her knees. "Um, yes, Miss?" Nora presented the Wench with the ages-old look of disgust for the foibles of parental authority. "Tenisha's mom wants to know if it's all right for her to stay overnight." "Oh." The Wench worked to get vertical on creaky joints; there was nothing like sleeping on the floor to make you feel older than you really were... "Master is undoubtedly in bed..." "Maybe you can reassure her?" "Okay..." She followed Nora back into the Media Room. "Bess?" Nora began, "Mom and Daddy are both in bed, but I brought... Felicia..." Thank God she remembered the Wench's real name! "Okay, so who is Felicia?" Bess asked. "I am a... servant here, in Mr. Wilson's household. I was present earlier when Mr. Wilson directed that a room be made ready for your daughter..." "What about her boyfriend?" Bess asked sharply. The Wench thought fast. "Arrangements were made for him, too." The Wench thought some more. "I'm loathe to awaken them, but..." "Maybe we can wake up Mama," Nora interjected. "I think they're together, Miss," the Wench replied. "Mistress Sharon was with Master when he left here, and I did not see her return to her rooms." She cringed at the slips made in identifying Armand and Sharon, mirroring a similar cringe on Nora's part. "Ummm, short of that, I could give you the callback number, or awaken Jason..." Oddly, though, the obvious servitude in her forms of address mollified Bess. "Never mind -- well, give me the number, in case I need it. Tenisha?" "Mom?" "If I find out later that you're somewhere you ain't supposed to be..." she warned. "Mom, I promise! It's just the four of us and we're not doing anything..." "Okay, call me in the morning, then. You and Draper stay out of trouble!" "Yes, Mom." More eye rolling. "And what's that number?" Bess asked. The Wench read it off. "All right. Goodnight, everybody! Behave!" She hung up. The Wench sighed. "Master might not have been angry -- he might have even been awake..." "Well, I'd rather he yelled at me..." Nora replied. "Let's go get a look at that room." Ten minutes later, everyone was settled in for the night. ------- Randall had never been to Mary's, and was suitably impressed, "Very nice!" Mary merely smiled and moved off; Darla Jean filled Randall in, "It was supposed to be a mother-in-law apartment. Huge, huh?" "Yeah." Randall mulled a bit, "So exactly what are we doing?" "I don't think there is an 'exactly'," Darla Jean replied. "I think basically, we're going to get naked again, and look each other over. After that, I think we're welcome to stay and do our own thing and watch and be watched while they do theirs. That's what I THINK..." Her expression sought confirmation, "That IS okay, isn't it?" "Yeah..." Randall nodded -- but he was still clearly harboring additional questions. Mary stuck her head out of the closet, "Stick, I managed to wangle some more beer... Want to offer it around?" "Sure." Stick hit the refrigerator. "Mick? Miller? Bud? Something light? They ain't enough for anyone to get blotto, or turn up wit' alcohol poisoning, or anything... Ted, Bud Lite?" "Is that what I had before?" "Yeah." "Okay." Teddy drifted over and collected the beer after Stick popped the cap, and took a swig. Darla Jean looked uncertain. "I've never..." She looked to Randall. "It doesn't hurt anything, in small amounts. While there probably is enough to get US drunk, all we have to do is take it easy -- as in one..." Turning to Stick, he murmured, "Miller?" holding up two fingers. "Light or MGD?" Stick asked. Randall eyed Darla Jean, "Ummm, one of each." "Comin' up." Stick did the honors, delivering the two bottles and returning to get a Michelob. "Cop a squat," he grunted, waving at the couch and chairs. Darla Jean tipped up her bottle, made a face. Randall chuckled. "It's an acquired taste -- but that will keep you from drinking too much on your first outing. The alcohol should loosen everybody up a bit, but you don't want it to interfere with your data collection." Stick plopped in a recliner, basically driving the other couple to the couch. Teddy settled in a kitchen chair after tugging it around next to the recliner. Mary returned and plopped on the recliner arm in her green nightie -- which exposed her a bit, especially from the couch. Addressing Randall, she said, "I didn't figure that we had to do the incredible exploding woman thing; this will expose all of the important parts while allowing you to keep your dinner down." Randall blinked. This hadn't been his ball game, but Mary just put it firmly in his court. "I'm sure I'd have survived; they both look fine," he replied, waving at Stick and Teddy. "So, what's the plan?" "Well," Mary sighed, "you shouldn't leave tonight, if you're gonna drink, so I figure you two get the couch..." "It's comfortable," Stick interjected, prompting smiles. "As for science and sex," Mary continued, "I'm not sure where one leaves off and the other begins. I know that Darla Jean wants to get a real close look at my boys..." "Ummm, actually, Randall and I've been introduced, but I haven't really EXAMINED him..." Darla Jean interjected. Randall blinked, and Mary laughed. "I guess, given the way some people do sex, knowing it works and knowing what it looks like are two different things..." "Uh, how thorough an exam are we talking about?" Teddy asked nervously. Mary smiled, then deliberately got up and switched chair arms on the recliner so that she was seated between Stick and Teddy so she could ruffle his hair. "Teddy tends to get pretty excited on the first pass..." "Oh, uh," Darla Jean glanced at Randall. "I'd hoped to touch..." Was this going too far? Randall looked momentarily pensive, raised his eyebrows and shrugged. Mary giggled. "Well, if he shoots, you'll get a sperm sample -- a BIG one!" "Mary!" Teddy blushed nearly purple. Stick shrugged. "If we all kinda stand in a row, she can do equal time -- get direct comparisons..." "That's fair," Mary agreed. "I might as well just follow Darla Jean -- or we can look together. After that, we girls can line up and the boys can get equal time..." Stick leaned up and whispered in Mary's ear, but, eyeing Randall, she shook her head no. "I don't think so, Hon." Stick shrugged and sat back, muttering, "Equal time..." "What?" Randall asked sharply. "Ummm, Stick's suggestion is... delicate. Darla Jean?" She waved off toward the bedroom area. Darla Jean got up and followed, mildly baffled. In the face of what they were talking about, what could be 'delicate'? Once over by the bed, Darla Jean gave voice to the query, "Delicate?" "Well, yeah," Mary replied. "Stick mentioned that you and I might not be the only ones interested in examining a different dick..." "Oh." "Stick was thinking of Teddy. He's not really much on the giving end, if you know what I mean. But he has a point. On the other hand, knowing that this is a touchy subject with Randall..." Darla Jean pondered this. In a perfect world, Randall would stand still for it -- maybe even conduct an exam of his own! But just how perfect WAS her shiny new mate? "I'll have to ask. He's working on it, but this is asking a lot. He really needs to sit and think a while and sort this thing out, and we're pressing him pretty hard." "I understand. Should I leave?" "Well, you might need to be close by..." "Okay." Mary gave Stick the high sign, pointing at Randall. "Darla Jean needs to talk to Randall." Stick nodded and got Randall's attention, pointing, and Randall got up. Joining Darla Jean, he murmured, "Delicate?" "Mmmm, yes. This one's on you -- I can't make the call. Basically, the idea was that we shouldn't limit ourselves to examination by sex." Randall blinked, frowned. "You mean Teddy and Stick?" "Well, yes, but --" Darla Jean hesitated, "How much comparative examination of male genitals have YOU done?" "Sorry?" "Do you know how you stack up?" "Ummm, it's... discouraged." Darla Jean nodded. "Especially around your house, I bet. I realize this is 'way out there, and we're rushing you on this, but..." "Yeah, I know, unique opportunity, and all that..." "There's something else that occurred to me. It's potentially explosive, and might crash our relationship right here, but if you're as capable of looking at things logically as I hope you are..." Randall tensed. "What?" "You're dad's reaction is serious denial, right? Like he's hiding from something..." Darla Jean waited for the hammer to fall. "Oh. Shit. Like he might have enjoyed some part of it, and he can't stand himself." "I, uh..." "Shhh!" Randall rubbed his forehead. "You said what needed saying -- don't back up on yourself! While we're all being honest, here, are you going to fuck those two? Suck their cocks?" "I... don't know." Darla Jean hung her head. "It would be..." "... The most complete examination." "Yes." Randall was gone; he might last the night, just to take advantage of her, sexually, but he was gone -- Darla Jean was certain of it. "You ARE pressing me pretty hard, here," Randall grunted. "I come off like a total wuss -- with Stick, especially. Can you imagine how it will be for me if he lets his friends all know that you'll fuck them and I'll put up with it?" "If we can't make him understand, I won't do anything -- I promise." Randall stood there, his face stony. "You're worth it," he ground out, "Aren't you?" "I certainly hope so," Darla Jean replied. "If you handle all of this, I'll have a lot to prove..." Randall smiled. "You WILL, won't you? Wave Mary over." Darla Jean did so. "You realize that by now even what might be considered normal rules are, like, out the window? I don't know where this is going." "Well, we can set our own limits," Darla Jean offered. "Umm, obviously, if I go very far with the boys..." "... I'll be expected to do similarly with Mary," Randall finished. "Yeah. I'd expect it; Mary will expect it. Even the boys will expect it." "Well, if it goes that far, I'll be meeting expectation, if for no other reason than anything less makes me look like a fool. Besides, I might learn something..." Mary arrived; Randall kicked off with, "Everybody examines everybody?" Mary went poker-faced. "That's one way of expressing it." "What are the limits?" "Whatever the two people involved agree to, I guess," Mary murmured. "There's another thing," Darla Jean interjected. "Randall is worried that Stick will get the wrong idea about this -- spread it around that I'm easy and Randall likes to watch, or is too weak to stand up for himself..." Mary chuckled. "Well, we can work on that, but really, Randall, you have MUCH better blackmail material on Stick! If and when his relationship with Teddy becomes general knowledge, he's gonna lose a lot of face in his neighborhood." "All right -- on one condition. Why Teddy and Stick in the first place?" Randall queried. "Well..." "No. I want to hear it from them." Mary shrugged. "That's fair -- I think." Leading Darla Jean and Randall back across the floor, Mary filled the others in, "Okay, Honey, you asked for it -- everybody can look at whatever they want; limits are set between whoever is looking and whoever is being looked at. I guess that means if you want something, you ask first. Cool?" Stick and Teddy crossed glances, and Teddy took the lead, "What if things aren't, umm, even?" Randall glanced at Darla Jean, but handled this, "Reciprocity is expected." Teddy nodded, but Stick frowned, obviously uncertain, so he amplified, "If you allow something, you should expect to get similar access from that person when you go looking for it. You don't have to pursue it, but you should be able to do the same kind of examination to the other person as he or she did to you." He and Darla Jean resumed their seats on the couch. "Okay, so we're all on the same sheet of music." Stick took a pull of his beer. "Basically," Mary agreed, "But let's say things go 'way far. Stick, Randall and Darla Jean aren't sure you understand what's going on here, in the first place, and if there are misunderstandings, stupid things can happen." "Awright. I gotta admit it ain't all clear." "Okay, Hon," Mary took it up. "This is an experience thing -- for all of us. Even if we all pile on each other and have wild sex where nobody knows who is plugged into who, we're not doing it because somebody is... forget that." Mary drew a breath, "Lookit, there is a worry you'll just think Darla Jean is easy, and Randall's too chicken to stop her. That isn't how it is." "Yeah, yeah, it's more scientific than that. I know. But it's still sex..." "Well, that's true," admitted Darla Jean, "however far it goes. And however far it goes, I'll want to enjoy myself. But really, it's about comparisons." "So, I'm gonna be a dot on a graph?" Stick grinned. "Maybe several graphs. But you'll be an anonymous dot. And there won't be any second set of tests." Mary cleared her throat. "There's another thing. You wanted something, something that pushed Randall here a bit to provide. He's agreed, but he wants something, too." "Yeah?" Stick grunted. Mary nodded at Randall, who voiced it, "I want to know why?" "Why what?" "Why you two." ------- Chapter 43: The Great Blow Job Experiment Stick frowned, pursed his lips. "Why we got started, or why we haven't stopped?" "Both." Stick glanced at Teddy, mildly exasperated. "This ain't like, a lecture, or anything, is it?" "Huh?" Randall blinked. "Oh, you want to know if I'm going to go all moralistic on you? No. This is curiosity -- more or less the same thing as we're talking about doing physically. I'm asking questions. That's all." "Guess I ought to start," Teddy kicked off. "Being pretty much a joke where women were concerned, I figured I was destined to be gay. So I was experimenting. I found out I liked doing certain things -- like fellatio. When I look at it now, it's not much different than cunnilingus -- but I didn't know that, then." Randall blinked. "How are fellatio and cunnilingus similar?" Teddy shrugged. "They're both kind of a gift, I guess. And you're pulling in a lot of sex juices, so you get excited. I dunno..." He started picking at his fingers. "It's okay, Man -- I just want to know," Randall soothed. "There's a... sense of accomplishment to it..." "Teddy's right," Mary agreed. "I've done a few, and when he comes, it's a rush." She was back on the recliner arm, dangling one foot and offering flashes of strawberry blonde fur from under the nightie. Randall flashed a glance at Darla Jean, but she was distracted, making intent faces and small hand movements designed to tell Mary she was flashing. Mary chuckled throatily and said, "I know, Hon. If this thing goes as planned, we'll all be naked, soon -- what's wrong with an appetizer? Besides, your boyfriend wants your input on blowjobs." Darla Jean rolled her eyes in exasperation at Mary, then turned her attention to Randall. "I'm not real experienced, but it kind of depends on how it's all going. It can be like that, but if the guy is busy being a bastard, it can just be... stressful." "Even then, sometimes..." Teddy colored, but continued, "Sometimes, you bring out the animal. It's kind of a compliment." "Ted Phipps is a different kind of animal," Darla Jean grumbled. "Wait 'til you're choking... Never mind." Stick raised an eyebrow. "Damn!" Mary filled in the gap, "Darla Jean was on a date with Dwayne when Ted invited himself to join them..." Stick grunted, "Heard somethin' 'bout that..." "You probably heard the tale Ted was spreading," Darla Jean groused. "The truth is a good bit different. Okay, I wasn't exactly operating above reproach with Dwayne, but Ted was NOT invited and basically raped me and humiliated Dwayne. We went with it because Ted bullied us to the extent that it looked like serious resistance would just get us both beaten up -- and while that allowed us to keep our skins intact, it made things look worse..." Stick nodded. "Ted's got a history. I heard through the grapevine about how he does girls." Darla Jean glared at the floor. "Even worse than what he did was how nasty he was about it. He made us both feel like dirt, very deliberately -- and then spread his lying rumors." There were looks of sympathy around Darla Jean in general, but Teddy was fascinated. "Ummm, what did he make you do, specifically? What was so bad?" "Huh?" Darla Jean looked up. Randall was eyeing Teddy oddly, and Teddy looked... mildly excited? "I, uh..." "Talk about it, if you can. We haven't, really. I might need to know," Randall encouraged. Darla Jean glanced around anxiously, "Well, okay. Dwayne and I were... well, fucking... in the boys' locker room after basketball practice. It's embarrassing, because it wasn't like I had any long-term interest in Dwayne -- I just wanted to know whether Randall was as incredible as he seemed to be or not. Dwayne had me laid back on a bench, with my head propped up on a couple of towels -- he was good like that, considerate. Anyway, we're umm, well along, and in walks Ted. Now, Dwayne had run everyone out and locked the gym, so Ted hid deliberately, somewhere, and waited for us to be good and busy. Then he basically dared Dwayne to do anything while he dropped his pants and... Do I have to?" "Please?" Teddy asked. "I really want to know..." "All right. He dragged me up until my head dropped over the edge, knelt on the towels, and... fucked my mouth." Teddy's eyes were distant. "I've heard of that. It was bad, then?" A light began to dawn for Darla Jean. "Well, it might have been okay, but I'm not exactly practiced at giving head, and he was deliberately brutal about it. He wanted me to choke and suffer and he wanted to ruin what Dwayne and I were doing. It might work really well for some, but for me, it sucked pretty bad. He split my lip..." "What else happened?" Darla Jean had a fair idea what Teddy was looking for, now. "Well, he taunted us the whole time. Dwayne hurried up so that he could get off and Ted could take his place -- not because he wanted him to, but because he was trying to spare my throat. Ted belittled him, and how he was doing, and told him he was a lousy lover; actually, Dwayne's just gentle... You probably heard his version of the next part." "Oh?" "Ted said he'd use a rubber -- but I had to put it on. Otherwise... Well, it wasn't much of a choice -- put the rubber on him or chance having his bastard -- but he got to slant that HIS way, and make me look worse." "Sounds like the kinda thing he's done before," Stick nodded sympathetically. "I, uh, like to be pretty active," Darla Jean murmured, embarrassed, "and I was already warmed up, so Ted was, well, good. But he kept it up, making me feel bad about enjoying it -- making me ashamed of myself for acting like a slut. He made me cum -- just because it looked bad, I think -- then he got me close again before stopping and ripping off the rubber and shooting all over both of us! Dwayne... That upset him, pretty bad." "I'm surprised you're not marked by all this," Randall growled. He was angry. "Well, it helps that I knew what he was up to. Besides, some of it is... true, after a fashion. I AM pretty, um, easy to get going. And I wasn't exactly acting virginal with Dwayne..." "Mebbe, but it's still rape," Stick insisted. "I hear Ted does that -- he gets a girl, and rags on her and tells her she's a slut and makes her feel like she can't do any better, so they stay with him, even though he treats 'em like dirt. But he usually fucks up and goes overboard, and the girl runs. I know a guy who picked up the pieces of one of 'em. But I'm not sure she's really fixed, if ya know what I mean..." "Awful..." Teddy mumbled. "He needs to be taught a lesson," Randall hissed tightly. Stick nodded. "Mebbe we oughta put it on our 'to do' list. We'd have lotsa help..." Randall's look said the idea had a lot of merit. "Can we get back to the other thing?" Darla Jean asked plaintively. "Uh, sure, yeah," Randall nodded, rubbing Darla Jean's back. "Sorry, Hon," Mary added. "Back to me, then?" Teddy resumed. "I... really hadn't done a whole lot before... Stick. Just a couple of anonymous run-ins in places where I was pretty safe. Like the Men's Room at the place where we had the Prom..." "I'm not sure I understand how that place was safe..." Darla Jean murmured. "Um, well, you know what a glory hole is, right?" Teddy asked. Randall's eyebrows popped up. "I... think so," Darla Jean replied, "but maybe I'm missing something." "Okay," Teddy took a swig from his beer to steady himself. "I broke into this thing from a glory hole. I was in a restroom somewhere, and there was a hole in the stall wall. At the time, I figured it was a knothole that had popped out of the wood, or something -- but I noticed that I could see into the next stall. A guy came in -- older, I'm pretty sure -- and dropped his pants and stuff, basically right in front of the hole, so I saw his... cock." "It's too late for embarrassment, Hon," Mary chided, ruffling Teddy's hair. Teddy ducked, but the interruption did its job. "Anyway, I got nosy and leaned up, and he was playing with himself. It was all stiff, and he was pumping it with his hand... I got hard and started pumping mine, too. Then he leaned forward a bit, so I backed off. I figured he was done, you know? But the next thing, he's put his foot right along the wall and he starts tapping it. I waited a few seconds, but the way he was sitting, he must have leaned back, so I take another peek, and he's all spread out, giving himself a serious hand job. I, well, I couldn't look away! He was playing with his balls... I realized then that he probably wasn't there to go to the bathroom, but the real reason hadn't sunk in yet... I was looking through the hole and pumping away -- stupid, maybe, but you kind of had to be there -- I was REAL excited! Then he leans up again and I back off. I can see a shadow at the hole, and suddenly, I realize that HE'S looking at ME! This was really hot, so I slouched back and let him get an eyeful. He hung out there for a long time, watching, then he stuck his finger through the hole..." Teddy shook his head. "I freaked for a second -- almost jumped up and ran -- but I didn't. After a bit, he settled back and I managed to get brave enough to look again. I only had a vague idea what the finger pointing meant, but I figured I might as well try it to get an idea -- so I stuck my finger through the hole. The guy moved right away, so I freaked and got ready to run -- but then, wow, he stuck his cock through the hole! I was, like, totally amazed..." Teddy's eyes looked a little glassy; he was back there, re-living the scene. "It was the closest I'd ever been to one; I really didn't know what to do, but touching it seemed to be all right so I started playing with it, jacking it and stuff. I'm sure you guys are all grossed out, but it was pretty neat -- the guy groaned a little and pressed himself against the wall, so I knew he was enjoying things." Teddy looked up, embarrassed, but everyone seemed rapt, so he went on, "Jacking somebody else that way isn't really the same as doing yourself -- I figured I wasn't doing too well, but he stayed there. Then he whispered, 'Suck it.' That seemed to make more sense. Maybe I shouldn't have, but I really didn't have a problem with that -- I mean, I figured I was gay, anyway, and that's what gays do. The next thing I knew I had the head in my mouth and was licking the underside of it and the guy was making happy noises. A couple of minutes later, I had a mouthful of cum; I think he left while I was trying to figure out what to do with it. But I was a cocksucker." He shrugged. "After that, I went looking for other places, and I found a couple. I'd done it maybe a half-dozen times by Prom night." Teddy took another pull of his beer, "You see, glory holes are anonymous. You don't see each other, not faces, anyway, so it's pretty safe for both people involved. I was pretty happy when I found the setup in the men's room on Prom night, because things promised to be pretty dull. Little did I know..." He got quiet and sat back, looking across Mary's lap at Stick. "Me, huh?" Stick grunted. "Well, I hadn't done shit 'til Prom night. I brought a flask full of vodka to the Prom and drank half of it myself, so I was sorta bagged. When I hit the Men's Room, the urinals were three deep, so I circled around and hit the stalls -- and the stall had a glory hole and a buncha graffiti. I got a glimpse of Ted scopin' me, and I was just fucked up enough to go for it." Stick hit his beer, and sat for a second, then chuckled. "I'd had a coupla blowjobs, but they wasn't any great shakes..." "Beulah Tyrone," Mary interjected. "Yeah," Stick agreed. "Like I said, no great shakes. No pussy, neither. Well, I stuck my dick through that hole, and it was like nothin' I ever had before! I gotta pet theory that it's just that guys know what feels good -- I ain't tested it, and probably never will, but it's a theory. Anyway, this had a Beulah blowjob beat ALL to Hell! The fact that it almost HAD to be a dude was embarrassin', but damn! If that's what it took, ya know?" Stick shrugged, grinning. "That's when I got open-minded about it. I come outta that Men's Room lookin' for that mouth an' the dude attached -- it was good shit an' I wanted me some more!" At that point, he cocked an eyebrow at Mary. Mary sighed. "I guess at that point, things became MY fault. I had a good idea what Teddy had been up to when he came out of the Men's Room. When Stick came out, looking, that let the cat out of the bag. Draper had just roped in Tenisha, and Nate and Nora were looking like an item, and that left a seat open in Teddy's car, Stick without a ride, and a prime opportunity to blackmail two guys at the same time. I blackmailed Teddy into giving Stick a ride home, but dragged them both here, where I had everything I needed to put the package together." Mary waved her arm at their surroundings. "The plan was pretty simple; Stick wanted more head, and I knew the name of his supplier. Teddy needed protection, or who knew how he'd end up if Stick got his hands on him without a little supervision. Teddy had been hiding from me off and on for some time, but with Stick here, I figured he'd feel safer -- especially if I was keeping Stick from doing anything stupid. The same kind of distraction thing applied to Stick, properly played." Randall was rubbing his forehead. "I guess I'm pretty confused..." "Well, let me tell you how it came down -- that usually works," Mary replied. "I gave Teddy a beer and sent him off to get drunk -- pretty easy, since he was scared to death. While Teddy was hiding in the bathroom, I told Stick that I could produce his cocksucker, but if I did, he owed me -- besides, just knowing he'd gotten a blowjob from a guy was blackmail material. After Stick and I had made our agreement in principle, I dragged Teddy out, threw on some bisexual porn to distract him, and made 'em an offer they couldn't refuse." "Which was?" "Stick wanted his dick sucked again. Teddy was chicken, but he wanted even more than that. Neither of them really had a place where they could follow up on any of that. I told them that they could play here, any time, until they got it out of their systems -- but they had to play with me, too. That meant I got a piece of each of them, but in a situation where neither of them would get the idea that I was going all moon-eyed on them and they needed to escape. The more they played with each other, the more they played with me -- and the more they played with me, the better chance I had of one of them deciding that I might be worth having..." Mary grinned. "Add to that the blackmail aspect, and it seemed like a pretty good plan..." "Was it?" Randall asked. "You gotta ask?" Stick grinned. "Actually, it worked better than anybody figured. Neither of us had ever had pussy -- but Mary's is pretty competitive to the other stuff we were doing. We tried a few things; Mary put up with shit, and even helped out in places -- I figure most girls wouldn't. Ted likes it all, mostly, girls or guys. I ain't real interested in some guy stuff, but the rest is good -- and pussy? Hey..." Stick spread his hands. "But there's more to it than that. We watch out for each other. I don' let folk pick on Ted. Mary mothers him, but when she gets tired of bein' bossy, I stick my oar in. Everybody's happy. Ted's tryin' to teach Mary how to suck serious dick, and she's learnin' -- but Ted's still better. Ass is, well, ass. Ever' one is different -- and they're all good. And Mary's got equipment neither of us has an' both of us are grateful for..." "So, it's all good?" Darla Jean asked. "Between us? Yes," Teddy replied. "Other people are the problem. We have to justify ourselves all the time..." "Hey, uh, guys, I'm sorry. This was more about curiosity, though," Randall apologized. "I'm amazed. You guys make it sound like you've done just about everything..." "Well, there are limits," Mary replied. "Both physical and personality things. Stick, well, isn't interested in getting anal sex -- and, well, given Teddy's equipment, I haven't taken him on, there, either..." "Oh?" Darla Jean asked. "So, Teddy really IS different?" "Very!" Mary replied. "Ummm, maybe we should move on to the exams? Nothing like showing the proof! Guys?" Stick shrugged. "Ready, I guess. You?" This question was directed, not at Teddy, but at Randall. Randall shrugged. "Sure." "Ted, why don't you do the middle, then. We can all line up in front of the couch..." "I'll hop up," Darla Jean offered. "Then you guys can sit if you want to." She did so and sat on the chair that Teddy had just vacated. "Buck naked?" Stick asked, glancing around for agreement. It was general, so he started skinning out of his stuff. Randall, not to be outdone, got moving, while Teddy, somewhat shyly, hung back. "Move it, Ted," Stick admonished, "You're the one the girls wanna talk about." "Okay, okay." "Ya been seen once tonight, anyway. No big thing." Teddy sighed, but got out of his pants. The three of them made an interesting contrast: Stick was tall and extremely thin, and Randall was similarly sized and similarly built -- perhaps a few pounds heavier. The major difference between the pair was color; even their erections were about the same shape and length. Teddy, on the other hand, was shorter, and while he was by no means fat, he was carrying more weight on his frame. Standing between the two taller boys pointed up the differences in his erection, too. Teddy's cock was primarily an extremely fat glans. "See?" Mary gestured at it. "That's not for asses. It's pretty good in front, though!" Darla Jean got down on her knees before the boys. "May I?" she asked, indicating that she wanted to touch Teddy's cock. "Hold up!" Randall roared. "Let's get equal! Off with the clothing, girls!" "Can I keep this?" Mary asked, indicating her nightie. "I'll fish out these..." She unbuttoned the neck button and started extracting her breasts. Darla Jean said nothing; she merely returned to the straight chair, plopped down and began removing her shoes and socks. She was the reason the boys were standing there -- she was DAMNED if she was going to short ANY of them... The guys passed a glance. Stick shrugged at Randall and murmured, "Your call, Man." Randall pulled at his lip while examining the results of Mary's efforts. Her wide, splayed breasts WERE fully displayed against the background of the green fabric, but... "It's not short enough." "Oh?" Mary glanced down. "Maybe I can roll it..." She started working at the nightie, rolling the top under and effectively shortening the hemline. "How's that?" "More fur," Randall replied, feeling his oats a bit at being in control. "And I reserve the right to ask for full removal when you girls go on display." "Okay, okay," Mary kept rolling. Stick, however, put an end to it. "Looks like shit. Mary, pull it off." "But, Stick!" Mary whined. "Mary! Git it off!" "Oh, all right!" Mary rasped, pushing the thing down and off, "Why you guys insist..." "We've all seen it before," Teddy chided. "Even Randall, at the pool." Randall gave Mary more attention than he had on the previous occasion. At that time, encouragement was more important; now, she was basically there for him! Still, it was the girls' turn to examine the boys, not vice-versa... Stick ogled Darla Jean. Okay, she was definitely nicer lookin' than Mary -- question was, was she like a lot of girls? All show and no go? And how was Randall doin' with this? He'd been cool, so far, but... Darla Jean was just stepping out of her panties, as cool as a cucumber, apparently -- except for a bit of a flush at the cheekbones and shoulders. Actually, she was on fire -- there were THREE naked guys standing in front of her. Omigawd! But she schooled her features to at least bring a semblance of scientific detachment. "C'mon, Mary -- the guys are waiting..." She resumed her kneeling position before Teddy, "Where were we?" "I-I think you were going to..." Teddy stuttered. "I'll be gentle..." Darla Jean reached out to cradle Teddy's balls. They were bigger than Randall's or Stick's, a pair of heavy orbs in a plump scrotum. Teddy started to freak, but Stick caught it. "Easy, Ted. She ain't hurtin' nothin'," he advised, rubbing Teddy's shoulder. "O-okay." Teddy stood his ground. Mary circled to Darla Jeans' left and gathered Teddy's head in for a kiss. "You're okay, Hon." She glanced down at where Darla Jean was conducting her exam, "See how thick he is? That head is HUGE! It's GREAT, once you get it in!" "Wow, I bet!" Darla Jean agreed, wrapping her fingers around the narrower shaft behind it. Looking up at Teddy, she added, "It's pretty impressive." "It's short..." Teddy gasped. She was stimulating him, even though she wasn't really trying. "Well, yes, but length is just one measure. I'm not sure it's as important as girth..." She rotated her hand on his shaft, rubbing the back side of the flanged head in the process. "E-easy!" Teddy groaned. "I go off pretty quick." "Okay," Darla Jean agreed, dropping her hand. "Can I come back?" "Sure..." Darla Jean took a quick look at the erections to either side before deciding that it was time to do something positive for her new boyfriend. Shifting to her left, she examined his extended cock critically for a moment before cradling his smaller scrotum and presenting him with the other hand, asserting, "In my limited experience, this is VERY good..." Mary grinned tightly and dropped to her knees before Stick, carefully giving him the once-over and then similarly presenting his erection to Darla Jean. "I've had a few, and Stick's no slouch. He and Teddy are totally different, but either one of them blows away anything I had before them," she announced with an air of mock seriousness. "How many HAVE you had, Mary?" Darla Jean asked. Mary squinched up her face, obviously counting, "Um, about a dozen, including these two. Stick's a real machine with this thing." "Randall's... very impressive. And I'm not the only one to think so. He's really set me off with this." Darla Jean asserted. "Mmmmm." Mary leaned over and collected Randall's shaft in her right hand while holding Stick's with her left. "Aside from color, there doesn't seem to be much difference..." There really wasn't, either. Randall might have topped Stick by about half a millimeter in length, while Stick's cock had just a bit more smoothness to it, not showing as many veins as Randall's. Stick turned his head, grinning, and asked Randall, "Do you believe this shit?" Randall shook his head, "At least they're complimentary." "Yeh." Mary handed off to Darla Jean, "What do YOU think?" Darla Jean took the offered black shaft, "Well, it seems pretty nice..." She recaptured the white one. "They ARE very similar in feel..." Randall's was, perhaps, just a touch harder, but Stick's felt a bit... silkier, maybe... Mary backed up and she shifted to the right, making Stick the sole current focus of her investigation. Examining it critically, she took in the less-extensive, tightly kinked pubes, the extremely dark color of the shaft, the compact, yet dangling scrotum. Since Stick was so narrowly built, his buns were that much more prominent; Darla Jean gave them a squeeze and cross-checked Randall's, which were pretty decent, too, after all. Mary didn't really have any agenda to pursue, so she merely resolved to have fun. Settling before Randall, she did a pretty thorough exam, jacking him and stroking his balls. "Jeez, you know, it IS a shame that this thing didn't have its coming-out party earlier. It's VERY nice..." "Uh, thanks..." Mary was showing some talent with those hands; Randall wondered if he'd underestimated her? He schooled himself to remain stoic, but Mary was delivering a helluva hand job... Darla Jean glanced over and grinned; Mary was pushing the envelope, probably deliberately. The invitation to reciprocate was clear, so she reached out and collected Teddy's cock for a jacking comparison. "Wow! These sure feel different!" While there was a clear differential between the glans and shaft on Stick, the effect was multiplied in Teddy, where there was a serious disparity between the hard but narrow shaft and the huge, fat glans. "Yeah, Teddy's unique..." Randall was seeping a little pre-cum; Mary collected it on her thumb and rubbed it over the soft, sensitive tip of his cock. Randall hissed in a gasp. "Did you see that? Try it!" Mary chuckled. "Umm, I missed it," Darla Jean replied. "I only got the reaction." She locked eyes with Randall, who popped his eyes and shrugged, clearly transmitting, 'Well, what am I supposed to do?' She grinned. "They're running a little goo from the tip, right? Rub it over the tip with your thumb." Stick was pretty dry, but Teddy was running a bit; clear fluid was seeping from the slit at the tip of his glans. "Well, Teddy is." She put the thumb to work. "Watch Teddy," Mary admonished, "He'll get..." "EEEEE!!" Teddy danced back, causing Darla Jean to lose her grip. "... excited..." Mary laughed. Darla Jean giggled, too, as Teddy gingerly re-presented himself for her attentions. "Teddy is a quick shooter on the first pass, making him the boy most likely to shoot all over your face..." "I'll bear that in mind." "Stick ought to be coughing up something... Milk him a bit." Mary directed. Darla Jean did so, eliciting a grunt and a drop of fluid. Wiping it around his glans elicited another grunt. Mary glanced at Darla Jean, "Notice how none of the three of them have objected while we upped the ante? Guys are worse sluts than gals ever thought of being -- it's their nature. Watch this!" She darted forward and engulfed Randall's glans. "Whuh!" Randall grunted, flinching -- but he didn't push Mary away or back off. "Hey!" Mary suckled the tip for a moment, cradling his balls, then backed off and murmured, "Who was it that said 'When you've got 'em by the balls... '?" She dared Darla Jean with her eyes, "Do Stick first -- Teddy might make a mess. No need to finish -- just get a taste..." Darla Jean looked up at Randall, but he was screwed and he knew it. Mary had made an end-run around any input he had... He opened his mouth, closed it, then took a shot, anyway, "She took me by surprise!" But Mary, grinning, re-absorbed his glans. "Aaaahh!" Defeated, he gasped, "Oh, go ahead!" Darla Jean oriented on Stick's erection and rolled her lips over the tip, following up with tongue work. Stick hissed like a teakettle, then grunted to Randall, "We'll get even, Man! Their turn's comin'!" That brought about a totally different thought process in Randall. Shit! Cunt-lapping? Somehow, some way, he had to make sure Stick and Teddy didn't fuck Darla Jean -- but at the rate things were crashing, he had virtually no shot... Having acquired a pretty good taste of Stick, Darla Jean shifted her attention to Teddy. Cranking open her jaws to take him in was considerably more work; the spongy head was a mouthful. Mary backed off Randall to watch and comment as Teddy started dancing to the sensations. "If he starts to pulse," Mary offered, "better squeeze real hard at the base -- or get ready to swallow!" No sooner than Mary had finished the admonishment, Teddy squalled, "AWWWWWW!!" and his fat glans swelled even more! Darla Jean, realizing that containment was impossible, backed off a bit so as to have SOME room in her mouth -- but it wasn't enough! Teddy's first blast was a mouthful, and Darla Jean was unable to clear it by swallowing before the second followed -- and started pouring out around her distended lips! By the third pulse, Darla Jean had things under control again, though, so that was it for the mess; still the flood was pretty surprising! "Wow!" she exclaimed when the flow dropped to the point that she could disengage, "That's a LOT!" "Um, yeah. Sorry!" Teddy apologized. "Well, I was warned," Darla Jean replied. "I'll go get something to clean up with!" Teddy offered, and took off like a shot for the bathroom. "Bring a towel AND a washcloth!" Mary admonished. Turning to Darla Jean, she murmured, "You just set another precedent..." Darla Jean looked up at Randall. This... could be bad... Randall wasn't happy, either. Things were out of hand. But what to do about it wasn't clear... Randall opened his mouth, but Stick realized that his input was pivotal at this point. "It's awright. You don' hafta do anything jus' 'cause Teddy got happy..." Randall regarded Stick pensively. Somehow, the fact that he'd made the gesture changed things. He nodded at Stick, but turned his gaze to Darla Jean's anxious face. "It was an accident!" she blurted. "Yeah, I know." he sighed. "But since you got the data, you'll need a comparison..." He waved toward Stick. "Ummm, yeah," Darla Jean murmured. There was a problem, here... "Mary, may I?" "Sure." Mary backed off, and Darla Jean captured Randall's cock, pulling him over next to Stick by it. "Hang around," Darla Jean murmured, "You're probably gonna need to finish somebody, but I'd like a direct comparison..." And with that, she sucked in Randall. "Aaaahhhh!!" Those wide, thick lips were a resource Mary didn't have, but... "Easy with the teeth, uh, Darla Jean!" He was going to HAVE to come up with an endearment... "Go for full coverage!" Mary coached from behind, "I learned that from Teddy! Guys aren't like girls -- you can't just concentrate on one spot. Guys push it all the way in, and pull it almost all the way out -- and you want to do that, too!" "Yeah," Teddy agreed, "Try to emulate a vagina as much as possible: lips tight, tongue working the bottom, no teeth -- and try to keep things good and wet!" He knelt down next to Darla Jean to watch her work while wiping off her chest with a washrag. "You need to back past the ring at the base of the head. That's a very sensitive place; you need for your lips to be tight as you go over it." Stick grinned, eyes sparkling. "Remember that experiment?" Then he hissed in a breath as Darla Jean shifted her efforts to him. Mary laughed, both over Stick's comment and his reaction. Randall looked at her blankly, so she decided to try to present the idea, "You know, Randall, most of the experimentation has been according to Darla Jean's test plan. Stick said something as a joke earlier, when things didn't look like they were going to go well, but it IS a valid experiment..." "Umm, what would THAT be?" Randall was watching Darla Jean absorb Stick's cock, trying to analyze the weird feelings that was causing him. "Stick swears that guys give better head. We could, like, blindfold you..." "Wha-at?" Randall's eyes popped. "Well, there's at least three of us. You could sample everybody, blindfolded, and see if Stick is right. Maybe we could do you AND Stick..." "Ummmm," Randall thought fast. "I'm thinking that two girls and one guy isn't adequate to validate the theory. Teddy just might be phenomenal, and that would skew the results." "Well, what if Stick plays?" Mary asked. Stick flinched... ... And Randall caught it. "I couldn't ask. Besides, if he did, then I'd be obligated... I don't know if I could do that. Besides, I'd skew the results the other way, having never done it and not having any particular inclination..." Mary shrugged. "The long and short of it is that Stick has done Teddy maybe once or twice -- it's not on his favorites list, either." She turned her attention to Stick, "But it was your bright idea..." Darla Jean had stopped to follow developments, and was grinning from ear to ear, something neither boy could afford to miss. "Mebbe we should pass..." Stick faltered. "Damn! Does that mean I don't get to play?" Teddy complained. Randall eyed him as if he were about to get snake-bit. "I, uhh... Stick?" "He's YOUR frien', Ted. You sure you wanna push him that hard?" Stick asked. "Well, it was just ONCE -- for science -- but I guess not..." Teddy sighed. "We talked about a certain amount of this," mumbled Randall apologetically. "Were you planning on, well..." "Yeah, a little," Teddy admitted. "If I could get away with it." "What about you?" Randall asked Stick. "Well, probly not suckin', but I was gonna give it the once-over. Seemed like we went to a lot of trouble ta get permission..." "Yeah, you did," Randall sighed. "And I'm pretty sure I can put up with it. But I don't know if I can... participate..." "Being the suckee IS participation," Mary pointed out. Darla Jean said nothing -- she'd caused enough trouble -- but she continued stimulating both wavering boys with her hands. "True," Randall agreed, reluctantly. How did he get in this deep? They were talking about sucking Stick's cock -- which was 'way out there, for Randall. From the look on Stick's face, the reverse was 'way out there for HIM, too... Stick looked apologetic. "I done this a coupla times for Ted, 'cause it ain't right that I get to jus' take all the time. I mean, he likes it, but it ain't a relationship without no give and take. But somebody else..." "That's okay," Randall replied. "I've never AT ALL, and if my dad found out, I'd be disowned, or something!" "Big chickens," Mary groused. "So it's all off?" "Well, the experiment, anyway," Randall murmured. "Maybe after the exams..." "Now I have to choose one to finish," Darla Jean sighed. "And Teddy..." "Jeezus!" Stick rolled his eyes. "Hey, Man, can you do this? If you look at it objective-like, it's four mouths on your meat, ya know? I'll... go ahead..." "I-I'll give it a shot. It might be the world's fastest blowjob, and you might have to ignore the retching, but I'll try to at least get there..." Randall promised. With the onus on him like that, it just wasn't fair to hold out. Still, it, well, sucked... "Awright, we're in. Who's first?" Stick grunted. "Let's do Randall -- that's how it kicked off..." "I'll get something for a blindfold!" Mary yelled gleefully. "Whoa! Whoa! Slow down!" Stick yelled, having second thoughts. "Let's finish the exams, first -- at least on the guys..." "Um, yeah," Randall agreed. "At least there will be a little more... familiarity..." "Yeah," Stick agreed. "You done, Darla Jean?" "Yeah, this is good, for now, anyway." Darla Jean got up. "What about you, Mary?" "I'm good, too," Mary agreed, waving, on her way to a dresser. "You guys play amongst yourselves..." "You're up, Ted," Stick grunted, adding to Randall, "We might as well do like we did for the girls..." "Hey!" Teddy exclaimed, but he was apparently rapidly over the whole thing, as he settled to his knees before the displayed cocks. If anything, Teddy's examination was more thorough than Darla Jean's. He appeared to weigh scrotums, and gently felt each testicle, asking the owners if he was injuring them. He handled the shafts with both hands, one at a time, and then compared them simultaneously, stroking one in each hand. Finally, he sucked in first Stick's length, then Randall's, working each one over with his lips and tongue for a few moments. Mary, having returned with a wide black cloth sash to use as a blindfold, commented, "I think Teddy's exam was a bit more scientific, Darla Jean." "Um, maybe," Darla Jean replied. "I should have written up a test plan." "Okay, guys," Mary exhorted, "Next!" Randall and Stick stood there, offering each other the lead, neither wanting to be the first to bow to the other. Teddy rolled his eyes, "Come ON! It's not going to kill either of you!" "Awright," Stick groused, caving in, "C'mere, Ted." He proceeded to examine both Teddy and Randall, modeling the exam on Teddy's -- minus any lip service. Randall realized that Stick must have seen, felt -- even tasted -- Teddy before, but it was kind of a sop to the method laid out by the girls. Besides, it would work for him... In a bit, Stick grunted and stood up; it was Randall's turn. It was too late to turn chicken, so Randall summoned his objectivity, and knelt to examine his colleagues. Stick looked pretty much like a lot of guys Randall had seen one time or another in the showers and whatnot, but Teddy was a lot different. Randall didn't know whether to be envious or feel sorry for Teddy. They'd actually had a couple of jerk-off parties at the cave, so Randall HAD seen Teddy's erection before -- but it had all been hands-off; he'd never touched another boy's penis in his life. When you set aside all of the emotional baggage, there were things to be interested in, here. Randall managed dispassionate comparison and made an effort to learn something. Stick's cock felt a little smoother than his own, and maybe it wasn't as stiff -- of course, that could all be because Randall was handling him, too, (it wasn't -- Stick kept a poker face, but he was enjoying it). Teddy was just so oddly different, with his short, narrow shaft supporting the monster head. That shaft was hard, though -- almost steel. Teddy's balls made Stick's -- or Randall's for that matter -- look small by comparison; they filled his heavy scrotum, while Stick's dangled loosely. Randall made an effort to give each a good jacking, trying to impart some pleasure and learning that doing someone else was a lot more difficult than doing yourself. When he figured he'd taken equal time, he stood up. "Ready?" Stick looked around, collecting nods. "Le's get on with it. What kinda rules we lookin' at?" "Ummm, just mouths -- maybe hands on the tester's hips if you need leverage," Darla Jean threw out. "Tester keeps his hands to himself, since he can probably figure out who is who by touch." "Okay. Time frames?" Randall asked, thinking, 'Short! Short! Please!' "A minute?" Teddy suggested. "Too long," Mary argued. "Thirty seconds." Darla Jean nodded. "Anything less probably won't give good data." "Awright. Remember, cummin' ain't what we're there for." He winked at Randall; neither of them wanted a mouthful. "Okay, on to procedure," Darla Jean said. "We blindfold the tester and go off and choose numbers in silence, then the tester calls out an order. Somebody not sucking keeps track of time and taps the sucker on the shoulder. Oh, and no results until after both of you have gone! Get a full order, not just the winner. We're trying to set a pattern." Stick grunted. "What if a couple of y'all are too close to call?" The girls and Teddy swapped glances. "Thirty second suck-off," Mary responded. "Better only be two, though -- you can get a blowjob later, either one of you, so no fooling around! Clear?" Both of the testers nodded. Mary handed Darla Jean the sash, "Okay, Hon, do him up." Darla Jean very thoroughly blindfolded Randall while the others stepped off to the more open area of the kitchenette. "We need to move the damned coffee table," Stick grunted. "Tight over there." "You're telling me!" Mary agreed. "Darla Jean, drag him over here where there's more room when you're done..." "Are you gonna be okay," Darla Jean asked Randall quietly as she finished up. "I think so," Randall replied. "Actually, the blindfold thing helps, as I think the worst humiliation would be having Stick watch. Once I go first, I'll be committed -- but I don't see me doing a good job..." "Stick feels the same way, it looks like. He's tried it and gets very little out of it. Shall we?" Randall nodded, and Darla Jean led him over. With Randall in place, Mary waved Darla Jean over and Stick silently demonstrated the number selection process they'd settled upon, a matter of clutching the hand into a fist twice and then displaying a certain number of fingers, sort of a variant on 'Scissors, Paper, Rock.' When they did it the first time, Teddy and Darla Jean both came up with three, leaving two open, and so had to do it a second time. Mary ended up with one, Darla Jean two, Teddy three, and Stick four. "Okay, we're ready," Mary called, "Give us a sequence." "Four one three two," Randall replied. Stick grimaced and almost said 'Shit!', but Mary caught it. He rolled his eyes, but went over and knelt up. When he was in position, Mary, eyeing her wristwatch gave Stick the high sign, and Stick leaned forward to lip Randall's dick. 'Full lips, ' Randall silently catalogued the sensations, 'Big soft tongue. Darla Jean? Could be Teddy... ' Then he remembered that he wasn't there to guess who, but determine quality. It was good, but then ANY blowjob was good, wasn't it? It was a little dry at the start, but picked up, and whoever it was soon started going deep, off and on -- not deep throat, just something notable, interspersed with full withdrawals. For Stick, the whole thing was basically good news. Randall was blindfolded, which eased the embarrassment -- and, more important, he wasn't as hard to deal with as Teddy, who was Stick's only partner in this activity to date. The realization that Teddy was in some ways advanced cock-sucking, and Randall was a good deal less challenging raised Stick's self-confidence, driving the quality of his effort up. By the time Mary tapped him on the shoulder, Stick had decided that while he'd prefer to avoid this kind of thing, it WAS survivable -- and he was experimenting a bit with depths and pressures. Mary handed off her wristwatch and assumed the position. Randall found that he instantly missed the first contestant upon withdrawal, so the replacement was very welcome -- and somewhat familiar. He got back to judging, evaluating the totally different technique; there were lots of withdrawals for teasing licks and concentration on the head without much going for depth. When whoever it was DID go deep, he or she tended to hang out there for a bit instead of coming back up. It was generally nice, and sometimes wildly stimulating, but Randall figured that he could probably last a week without an orgasm. For Mary, a blowjob was all about making a boy happy. If the guy shot, it was a success, and she got a certain satisfaction from the effort. She figured her teasing attack would probably place her 'way up the standings... Stick waved Teddy over and tapped Mary on the shoulder for the switch. From Randall's perspective, it was night and day; the new mouth was hot, soft, liquid, loose on the in-stroke and tight on the out-stroke. Light touches on his hips supported a driving attack that went from crown to some depth in long strokes, an action that brought Randall's first verbal recognition, "Man!" The sucker seemed to chuckle a bit after that... It was all cool for Teddy; Randall had a nice dick and he took what was probably going to be his only opportunity to make it memorable for both of them. That Randall should yell, "Man!" inadvertently identifying the sex of his sucker tickled Teddy. Thirty seconds went quickly, and Mary, again in charge of the wristwatch, signaled the change. Darla Jean knelt up and absorbed her new boyfriend's cock. Darla Jean's experiences with cock-sucking had been decidedly mixed, what with Ted Phipps' brutal treatment, and Dwayne and Teddy both basically shooting off almost immediately. Randall and Stick both seemed to represent a different school than anything she'd dealt with before. Mindful of Teddy's tutoring, Darla Jean worked on being soft and wet and providing a rhythm... ... VERY successfully, in Randall's opinion. This was going to be tough! In fact, when Mary tapped Darla Jean on the shoulder, Randall screwed up his face and said, "Uh, I hate to do this, but can I have Number Four again?" Mary pulled Darla Jean back to the group to preserve the anonymity of both of them before asking, "Who are you comparing to?" "Ummm, Two. I won't need that one again..." Randall guessed. "Well, if you re-do Four, you should also re-do Two, so a better second effort by Four doesn't prejudice you," Mary argued. Teddy was covering his face to keep from laughing, and Stick was rolling his eyes and shaking his head. Talk about humiliating! "Okay," Randall agreed, "I was just trying not to seem greedy." Mary turned to Stick and raised her eyebrows. Stick's shoulders slumped, and he went to kneel up. In a moment, Randall was again encased in a mouth. 'Fuck it!' Stick thought, and started corkscrewing his head on the down stroke. This made things pretty wild for Randall, and clarified the standings, momentarily. But Darla Jean was watching, both the action and the reaction, and would not willingly be out-gunned. When she knelt up, she went to work with an approximation of the same technique, and Randall began to wonder if he was going to orgasm before this last bout was over; sadly, though, he didn't manage to QUITE slip over the precipice. "Wow! You're right, Mary, that wouldn't have been fair!" he commented as Darla Jean rose from her position and rejoined the group a few feet away. "Okay, Darla Jean, undo him. Stick, Honey, your turn..." Mary directed. Darla Jean undid Randall's blindfold and used the sash to blindfold Stick. Meanwhile, Randall joined the group. "So, do you have them ranked?" Mary asked. "Yeah," Randall nodded. "It wasn't easy between those two." Mary grinned. "I bet. Okay, this is how we choose numbers..." She demonstrated. Darla Jean returned; Mary added, "Okay, let's do it." This time, there were no overlaps; Teddy got one, Mary two, Randall three, and Darla Jean four. "Okay, Honey, give us an order." "Ummm, two one three four," Stick announced. "All rightie, then," Mary muttered. "Remember, you're not guessing who is doing you, you're grading the effort..." Teddy got the watch, and Mary knelt up. Stick was in it for the fun. Sometime, Randall was gonna suck him, and even if he couldn't tell when, it was still gonna be a kick because Randall was so grossed out about it. When the first contestant got started, all Stick knew was that it wasn't Ted; other than that, he had no real indication. Well, he wasn't supposed to guess who, anyway... It was pretty nice, but whoever it was couldn't seem to get a rhythm going. Ah, well. Teddy tapped Mary and they switched places. Stick instantly knew who he was dealing with -- the efforts were apples and oranges. He almost announced recognition, but that wouldn't be right; besides, one of the others MIGHT be better... Mary waved Randall over and silently confirmed his readiness with him. Randall was obviously reluctant, but just as obviously game. Mary tapped Teddy and Round Two ended and Round Three began. Randall approached things hesitantly; Mary deliberately did not start timing until Randall actually cradled Stick's length on his tongue, which was probably a dead giveaway as to who it was. Once he got started, though, Randall went ahead and used the comparison information he'd recently acquired to make a creditable effort. Fortunately, Stick wasn't gamey or anything -- once Randall got used to the texture there were no issues. 'This isn't so bad, I guess -- not horrible, anyway. I wouldn't want to do it in a jail cell with some bodybuilder, but... ' the thought filtered through Randall's consciousness. From Stick's perspective, the swap out was slow -- which was probably a good thing as he might have lost it after Teddy. Once whoever it was got going, it wasn't bad -- better than Number Two, in fact. Kinda tentative, but more stroke... Finally, Darla Jean knelt up and took over. Actually, she arrived early, wanting to fix in her mind just how Randall was handling all this. When he backed off, he kind of popped his eyes and shrugged, but didn't seem to be permanently damaged. While in process, he'd just looked like he was concentrating on what he was doing. Darla Jean brought the full amount of her recent experience to bear on Stick, wetly sucking, then instituting the corkscrewing maneuver for a second before realizing that it might identify her. Still it was a prime effort, and made her easy to categorize. Mary tapped her on the shoulder, and the experiment was over -- now, for the results... "That's it, Hon," Mary announced. "Are you all set?" "Yeah." There was no requirement for a rematch. "Okay. Darla Jean, will you undo him? I'll go get some paper..." Mary headed off to a desk on another wall. "If everyone can settle back around the couch, we can check the results..." The others resumed their seats, collecting their beers; Stick got a fresh one. Both he and Randall made a production out of swishing beer in their mouths, to the laughter of the other three. Mary brought back some paper and sat down at the couch, thought a moment and started making a chart. Leaving some room at the left margin, she put the numbers one, two, three and four in a column. Then, thinking about it a bit, she put a two behind the one, a four behind the two, a one behind the three and, after a moment's hesitation over whether to run Randall and Stick separately, a three behind the four. "Okay, Randall, your results?" "Ummm, Three, Four, Two, One," Randall replied. Mary scratched in the numbers one through four to indicate position behind the first two columns. "Stick?" "Lessee," Stick conjured it up. "One, Four, Three, Two." "Jeez, that's embarrassing," Mary muttered. "What?" Darla Jean asked. "In a sec." Mary now added the scores for an aggregate. Finally, in the left margin, she added names. The finished chart looked like this: Rnd1 Rnd 2 Rand Stick Score Males Females Mary 1 2 4 4 8 7 13 D. J. 2 4 3 2 5 Teddy 3 1 1 1 2 R/S 4 3 2 3 5 "Apparently, Stick is right," Mary announced. "And I'm the world's worst cocksucker!" She turned on Randall, "And Stick is better than Darla Jean..." "Ummm," Randall was floored! "Uh, I, um, it was REAL CLOSE!" Darla Jean tittered, and Stick rolled his eyes -- how embarrassing! "Jeezus!" he complained. "Of course, Teddy took top honors," Mary added. "Maybe I should have judged a round!" Teddy offered. "That might have evened things out!" "Even YOU can't cum four times in two minutes!" Mary jeered, "But SOMEBODY would get a mouthful! And that would probably screw everyone else up!" She shook her head. "I'm not sure you could really provide good data..." "Well," Darla Jean opined, "He DID kind of skew things, being as good at it as he is... Besides, he just came a little bit ago." Stick scratched his head, and turned to Randall. "Well, they's two things here. On one hand, it means we both gotta go again. On the other, Ted's done us both... He's fuckin' up the curve, I bet." Randall sighed. Stick was right, and at least three of them -- himself, Teddy, and Darla Jean -- had the scientific training to know it. Basically, he could wimp out or he could go another round... "Guess you're right. Do we need any adjustments to the method? No? Then get out the blindfold..." Darla Jean collected the sash and nodded Teddy back out to the area where the other testing had been done while the others collected to sort out order. "I can't believe I'm doing this," Randall complained. Mary chuckled. "It's all in the name of science." "Is it? Certainly, that's the excuse, but..." Randall shook his head. Darla Jean rubbed his back, "If you didn't KNOW it, no one could convince you to be standing here." She came around and offered him a kiss, something that hadn't really happened under similar circumstances before. Randall accepted the offer -- and it helped -- his outlook, anyway... Stick shook his head. Well, embarrassing as it was, HE was committed to giving Ted the occasional blowjob -- Randall certainly wasn't. "Awright, let's get numbers..." The foursome shook out, Stick getting one, Mary getting two, Darla Jean getting three, and Randall four. "We're ready over, here, Ted. Give us a batting order." "Okay," Teddy grinned below the blindfold. "Two, four, one, three." "BATTER UP!" Stick roared. Mary rolled her eyes and handed Darla Jean her wristwatch. Kneeling up, she went carefully to work. Teddy's erection was an effort to absorb, but she'd done it before and knew what to expect. In addition, Mary's method was better suited to Teddy's unusual anatomy -- she just captured his glans in her lips and washed her tongue along the underside. Teddy danced from foot to foot, reveling in the sensations. At thirty seconds, Darla Jean tapped Mary on the shoulder, and she backed off, much to Teddy's vexation. Next up was Randall, who had very little experience at fellatio and NONE with Teddy. It was immediately evident that the kind of thing that had worked with Stick was NOT going to work with Teddy -- taking him in was like trying to eat a plum whole, and one just didn't bob on his erection -- it was too easy to gag on it. Eventually, he settled for something similar to Mary's effort, but it took almost the entire thirty seconds he was allotted to do so. Needless to say, the performance was somewhat lacking from Teddy's perspective. Randall rolled his eyes and shrugged in exasperation as he arose, and Stick almost made verbal agreement -- but he stopped himself, as it would have given him away. Experience gave Stick a considerable leg up on the problem, and his thick lips helped; Teddy was again dancing at the end of thirty seconds. This was more like it! A LOT more like it! Mary tapped Stick on the shoulder, and the final iteration began as Darla Jean knelt to replace Stick. Darla Jean's experience with Teddy's erection wasn't much more than Randall's, despite the fact that she'd swallowed a load of Teddy's ejaculate -- that was more a result of Teddy being quick on the trigger than anything amazing in the way of technique on Darla Jean's part. Still, she'd had him in her mouth and knew what to expect, so things went more smoothly than they had with Randall. Thirty seconds was thirty seconds, though; Darla Jean managed to put forth an effort WITHOUT obtaining a second load from Teddy, despite the warm-up from Stick. Mary tapped Darla Jean on the shoulder, and it was analysis time. Being careful not to make identification, Mary asked Darla Jean, "Will you undo him?" "Sure." Darla Jean pretended that she hadn't been there moments ago and undid Teddy's blindfold while the others returned to the conversation nook. Mary sat and scratched her head over how to re-score things. In a moment, she thought she had something; adding a couple of columns and a row, she asked Teddy, "Okay, results?" "Ummm, two, one, three, four," Teddy replied. Mary inked the numbers in and frowned. "There is something wrong -- our scores are too high!" Randall took a look, "Oh. Each of you were in all three test rounds, while each of us was only in two. What happens if you multiply girls' scores by two-thirds?" Mary did it. "Okay, that works, but how do we figure out which group is out in front?" "Oh, easy," Randall replied. "Average them. Add everyone in the group and divide by the number of people in it." Mary did some figuring and sat back. "Well, this is it. According to this, the guys are still out in front, although the margin has narrowed. Teddy loves me, and that helped, but he loves Stick, too..." She turned to Stick and grinned slyly, "Sorry, Hon, but apparently you're better at it than you want to be..." She spun the sheet around and everyone gathered around to look: Rnd1 Rnd 2 Rnd 3 Rand Stick Teddy Score Males Females Mary 1 2 2 4 4 1 9x2/3=6 4 1/3 5 2/3 D. J. 2 4 3 3 2 3 8x2/3=5 1/3 Teddy 3 1 1 1 2 Randall 3 4 3 4 7 Stick 4 1 2 2 4 Randall looked relieved; his raw score exceeded even Mary's after Teddy's round. Darla Jean smirked at him and murmured, "I bet you could do better. On the other hand, I guess I have a lot to learn." "Well, maybe not," Randall allowed. "Things were VERY close between you and Stick; maybe I just got it wrong..." "Maybe," Darla Jean's eyelids drooped. "Of course, practice makes perfect..." Randall added. "Yeh," Stick grinned. "Everybody horny? C'mon, Mary, I wanna get me some!" Mary turned to Darla Jean, "Just pull out the couch and go to town, Hon. There's sheets and stuff..." She waved vaguely and moved off toward the bed, Teddy trailing her. In mere moments, Mary was kneeling over a supine Teddy, sucking, while Stick entered her from behind. "Wow! They didn't waste any time!" Randall exclaimed. "Um, no, they didn't," Darla Jean agreed in a distracted voice. "Mind if I watch?" "No, but I think we can do better. Crawl up on the couch and lean over the back," Randall ordered. Darla Jean eyed him in surprise, but did so. "Are you wet?" "Uh huh." "Spread your legs a little, then, and I'll see if I can't add to things," Randall directed. "Go ahead and watch the show..." The blunt head of his cock nosed between her labia and started rubbing... "Oooohhh!" This WAS a plan! Darla Jean watched Stick's shiny black cock shuffle in and out of Mary while she suckled Teddy; in a moment, the whole thing was augmented by Randall's diamond-hard erection boring into her tunnel for the first time. "Oh, boy!" Randall, grinning from ear to ear, put his hips in drive. In moments, Darla Jean had shifted her grip on the couch back and was driving back against him, grunting softly. The fit was SOOOO perfect... Darla Jean was in Heaven! Already, the evening had exceeded expectation; now she was watching an interracial ménage à trois while the Number One cock in her experience slid in and out of her twat! Pleasure enveloped her, mounted; the other three seemed to be operating at the end of a tunnel, fascinating, but distanced by the fire that Randall ignited with his pistoning cock. "Oh, God!" Stick heard the noise and glanced up and grinned at Randall, "Kewl, Man! Git it! Make her dance!" Randall grinned back; a bond had been formed with Stick, after all, sometime during the evening, and obvious differences were set aside. Both of them hammered away at their women, long-stroking. Mary was hot and happy, but she was also distracted by Teddy's cock, so Darla Jean got the first orgasm of the session. She was quite the sight -- red of face and upper chest while her eyes rolled up and she wailed, "WAAAAAA!!! UHNG! UHNG! UHNG!" Her ass was going nuts as she slammed back into Randall, maximizing the impacts on her swollen clit while her thigh muscles jumped to the shock waves. Randall rode through it, pushing for two from her if he could make it happen -- but excitement was general and additive. Randall watched as Teddy's eyes bulged and he convulsed, grunting tensely while Mary swallowed once, twice. Then Mary's head came up and she started moving more seriously in response to Stick's thrusts. The position she was in emphasized her small breasts, but unfortunately there were some other things going on there, too. Still, it was exciting to watch, and Randall admitted to himself that, yeah, he'd fuck Mary if it came to that -- besides, Mary had this common sense thing about her... Stick was starting to get this agitated look that said the end was near, but Mary seemed to be a few seconds ahead of him. "Oh, Baby! Gimme! I'm close! I'm close! AAAAHHHHHH!!!" she wailed, straining as her muscles locked. Randall could see her stomach muscles ripple, an action made all the more visible by the motion it imparted to the roll over her belly. Mary's clench brought Stick off and he arched like a bow, teeth gritted while he crushed himself against Mary's ass and let fly with his ejaculate. The sight brought off a sympathetic detonation in both Darla Jean and Randall; Darla Jean had been watching every bit as closely as Randall, and rushing back up the slope to orgasm rapidly due to a number of factors, not the least of which was the fact that Randall had unconsciously tuned his stroke to Stick's, deepening her immersion in the action on the bed. Now, watching Stick's balls leap in his scrotum as his cock pulsed seed into Mary, Darla Jean's pussy pulsed in sympathetic detonation -- and Randall, taken up by the same set of inputs, found his peak and erupted into her pulsing channel. This doubled things up for both of them, and their attention shifted from the scene on the bed to their own mutual cataclysm. Darla Jean was beyond speech, a grunted "Hrrgh! Hrrgh! Hrrgh!" all she could get past her paralyzed diaphragm; Randall managed even less in the way of sound, only managing a strained grunt as his cock gouted semen into Darla Jean while he ground himself against her as if he was going to climb inside her compact twat. Stick summed it up in the aftermath: "Damn, that was good! I'm wasted! Somebody kill the lights!" ------- Chapter 44: Late Nights and Early Mornings Tabitha Adams got up to pee at about three a.m., sliding out from beside Paul and padding down the hall to his bathroom. Their bout of sex earlier hadn't been quite as comfortable as she told Paul; on the other hand, it had been very rewarding, since the orgasms produced had been real. It had been a long time since she'd let herself go like that; even when she was supposed to be kicking back with friends, sex had usually been something given in trade for dope or some other favor, and thus, in her mind, business. And business transactions meant that the customer got what he (or occasionally, she) paid for, not that Tabitha got her clit tickled. Clit tickling was something usually done in relative solitude, while Tabitha fantasized about, um, well, somebody like Paul, actually... Hmmmm... Tabitha collected a wad of toilet paper and patted herself dry, resuming her thought process. The last week or so had been pretty wild, what with that fuckin' bastard kidnapping her and fucking her over, Armand fucking Wilson riding to the rescue when she hit the hospital, and Paul. Apparently, they'd pushed the dope outta her, mostly; the urge to get more hadn't disappeared totally, but she had no driving urge to do anything about it. Given the fact that the pursuit of her next fix had been one of the driving forces in her life for a long time, she felt both relieved and bereft of focus. Then there was Paul. Tabitha stood in the door to the bedroom, gazing down on him in the dim light of a streetlight filtered through his half-closed curtains. The thing about Paul -- one of them, at least -- was that he didn't want anything from her. Come-ons that would have gotten her spread in no time sent him off to hide for a day, instead; rather than him chasing her, SHE was chasing HIM -- and having a tough time of it. Was that the sole attraction, she wondered? Why throw herself at someone who didn't want her? But that wasn't it; Paul's attitude didn't reflect a lack of interest, but rather a feeling that Tabitha was trying to pay him for something not owed. Married to that was a naturally suspicious nature that mirrored the instincts that kept Tabitha alive and generally unscathed -- except for the most recent incident, anyway. Generally, what Paul got, he bought and paid for -- people offering him free stuff caused him to look the gift over VERY CAREFULLY, checking to see if it was a Trojan horse or something. Tabitha understood that, but she'd offered herself, anyway, and not taken 'no' for an answer -- and, frankly, she'd been highly pleased with the result. And as for Paul's protestations that she owed him nothing, THEY were absolute bullshit, as the fight in the restaurant parking lot a few hours ago had clearly proven. Sure, old man Wilson was paying him to protect her, and no doubt he'd collect his pound of flesh for it -- but tonight had been kind of a date, at her insistence; it had been dangerous and maybe stupid, and Paul had been in control and handled it. Nonetheless, Tabitha put the whole thing aside and put up the excuse that she needed to know if her moneymaker was working again -- something that had HIM doing HER a favor, rather than anything smelling of payback. But the reality was that Tabitha felt an imperative to reaffirm her femininity -- not that she could have expressed the concept -- and THAT required someone who would appreciate the effort. THAT was why she hadn't picked Scott, for instance -- or any other of the available men in the safe house, or an old contact like Julio. Any of them would have taken what she offered without thought, which would have done nothing to affirm its value. The very fact that Paul was leery of the offer implied that he valued it and provided Tabitha what she was looking for; when he finally accepted, she made sure that it was good for BOTH of them, treating the tryst romantically rather than as a business transaction, because she needed to remind herself that she was a woman, too, not just a hooker. It had worked, fabulously -- but what was next? Paul cracked an eyelid. "Coming back to bed?" "Howcum you're awake?" "I'm a light sleeper. Goes with the territory." He eyed her for a second. "I know I'm ugly and all, but how long is it going to take you to work up the nerve to get back into bed with me?" "Ugly?" Tabitha broke from the door and strode toward the bed, "I SEEN ugly, Honey, and you ain't it! Actually, I was takin' in how good your big ass looked sprawled across this bed!" She crawled onto the bed beside him. "You all lively then?" "Well, yeah..." "One hole to go then. Wanna try some ass?" "What? I, uh, never..." Tabitha, who had knelt up, eyed him over her shoulder, eyes twinkling. "So I get to pick a cherry?" "Yeah, I guess so," Paul grinned back. "Okay, bring it over here, and I'll get it wet," Tabitha directed. "I gotta warn ya, it's not your average ass -- it's a smart ass!" Tabitha grinned from ear to ear. "Ohhh, boy!" Paul rolled his eyes, but Tabitha wrapped her big, soft lips around his half-hard cock and his next noise was a grunt. She just gulped him down, then tightened her lips and withdrew, dragging them over the entire length of his cock. Then she did it again. By the end of the second pass, Paul was rock solid. Next, she laved spit on it and backed off, leaving it dripping. "I don't suppose ya got any lube?" she asked. Paul shook his head apologetically. "Wet a finger then?" "Sure." Tabitha turned back around and Paul wet a finger with spit (not doing as good a job as Tabitha had on his cock), and gently working it into her rectum. It WAS a smart ass; her sphincter didn't fight him. "Wetter is better," she admonished, so Paul re-wet his digit by spitting in the cleft between her ass cheeks, since licking the finger didn't seem to be a good idea. The whole anal sex thing wasn't something that had occurred to him; usually, just getting the regular thing was enough of a problem. Still, homosexuals seemed to like it, and the tale was that some women did, too... "Do you like this?" he asked as he nosed his drippy erection against her sphincter. "Ummm, not somethin' I ever did fo' fun," she replied, "But it's kinda a premium option, if ya know what I mean, so I do it. Don't hurt if you are prepared an' you do it right. Ahhh, easy! We AIN'T doin' it right!" Paul stopped dead, about halfway in. "Sorry. What can I do?" "Mmmmm, spit ain't gettin' it. Go any oil? Butter?" "One or the other. One sec." Paul backed himself out; he wasn't visibly icky, so he stopped worrying about it and headed for the kitchen. Butter and oil weren't exactly bachelor's supplies, but he'd been in here a while, so he had SOME domestic coverage... "Butter's in the fridge -- that'll be cold. Oil?" "Butter still might be easier ta get in deep, Honey -- but we can try oil. Get 'em both an' we'll see..." Tabitha nonchalantly draped herself over the kitchen table. "Here?" Paul asked, turning from the cabinet with a bottle of cooking oil. "Easier ta clean up than a bed," Tabitha replied, matter-of-factly. Paul shrugged and started trying to coax oil into her sphincter -- a trick if there ever was one. But Tabitha helped by relaxing, and soon his index finger was running in and out pretty smoothly. "Gotta take it easy," Tabitha observed, "or it'll get TOO slick an' ya won't feel anything. Le's try it." Paul made insertion again and slowly started working his way into Tabitha's rectum, but again, at about halfway, Tabitha grunted and waved for him to stop. "Uhhh! Still bad in there, deep. Sorry!" "Hey, it's... okay," Paul replied. "Le's go in the bathroom and wash the oil offa me an' the... whatever offa you, then we can go back to bed an' you can poke my pussy some more," Tabitha suggested. The pair headed for the bathroom, Paul making the pro-forma demurral, "You don't have to..." "You gotta boner, an' I gotta itch, 'way up inside. Le's not complicate things by keepin' score," Tabitha replied. "Can I use that?" she asked, motioning to a washrag on the bar. "I don't put them up for show," Paul replied, displaying the forbearance not to add, 'like women do.' Tabitha wet the cloth after warming the water and washed him first, removing what little mess he'd collected before rinsing it out and applying it to her ravaged backside. There WAS a little crap there -- but it was only visible on the washrag, not on his cock. Paul took the rag from Tabitha and did a little more thorough job on her ass, since he could see the mess and she couldn't. Tabitha reached back with a hand and captured Paul's erection, giving it a maintenance squeeze, "C'mon, Lover, let's put that to work! You make me cum like that again, I might get addicted!" Paul grinned and tossed the washrag in the sink -- three a.m. wasn't the right time to do laundry, especially with a woman holding his dick... Tabitha turned and headed for the bedroom, leading him by his tool. The next few seconds had a flow to them that Paul didn't think any other woman could have managed. Tabitha crawled onto the bed and knelt up, dragging him along until she needed the hand to crawl forward, then reached back and captured him again as he crawled up behind, plugging him into her pink opening without fanfare and CERTAINLY without any trouble! Once her vagina had captured his glans, it went snug and Paul pushed himself balls deep into some of the most incredible pussy he'd ever had! It was hot, wet, clutching -- luxurious -- and it milked him gently on the outstroke. Tabitha fitted her hips to his height and dropped her torso, which added pressure from her pubic bone to the mix, but also added contact with his pubic hair, swinging balls, and even some shaft action for her clit. "Go to it, Lover!" she urged, "Give Mama a big one!" Paul set up a pace that was brisk but not punishing, and the pair settled in for the ride. Paul was surprised that he even rose to the occasion; the last time he'd had two orgasms in anything resembling quick succession had been early in his second marriage. To be working on a third the same night, well... Apparently, however, the intervening nap had recharged him somewhat; certainly, he was having no problem providing a sustained attack... Tabitha was resting her head on her forearms and grunting softly with every stroke. Paul would have been gratified to know how well he was actually doing, because Tabitha was enjoying his efforts immensely. Sex for fun had stopped happening a LOOOONG time ago -- somewhere about the time that her abandonment by Nate's father had raised prostitution as a career choice. Ever since then, sex had been the job, more or less, and relief had been something handled by solitary masturbation -- or dope. Working sex was all about making your partner enjoy it to the point that he got off rapidly and hit the street; Tabitha had developed techniques that worked very well for a male but didn't expose her to much in the way of sensation. Add the fact that she needed to concentrate to employ them and the fact that she was a slow starter, and a john seldom challenged her. This evening, though, with Paul, she'd put those techniques away in order to see if sex for fun was still possible -- and, surprisingly, it was! In fact, it was damned good! Right now, she was looking for hers, putting her cunt in the right places to make it feel good and get a solid stroke on her clit, and she was letting Paul do the work, rather than concentrating on coaxing him to juice -- and the freedom to enjoy herself the situation granted was intoxicating in itself! Paul was slammin' away, but it wasn't any jackrabbit thing and her pussy could take it -- besides, her clit was lovin' it, getting a slap from his big ol' balls on every stroke! By now, she'd have squeezed most johns dry twice; it would have been all over, the john would have been dressed and gone, and if she'd gotten a little tickle, maybe she'd be diddling herself before going back out. But she was just lettin' instinct handle her pussy, and Paul was pistoning in and out like he had a full tank of gas and nowhere to go, and Tabitha was startin' to lose it... "Uummm... Uummm... Uummm... Shit, that's good! Uummm..." Paul didn't know whether to believe her or not -- but if it was acting, it was GOOD acting! Hookers usually insisted that you were driving them nuts in an effort to peak your excitement -- which could be an irritant, since making it last was preferable. The other side was the 'instant on' thing they had afterwards that, if you thought about it (and Paul did), was a prime indicator that all the excitement during the act was faked. For that reason, hookers ran behind amateurs -- even the low-end desperation cases he usually ended up with -- in Paul's hierarchy of available sex partners. Tabitha had been pretty flashy earlier in the evening, which was suspicious -- but this time, she was a lot more subdued. Paul wasn't worried, though, because he could feel a tension building in her -- one which experience told him was a real, believable arousal. If she WANTED to fake it, undoubtedly, he'd never know the difference -- but theoretically, that wasn't the point of the exercise, so why worry? "Is there anything else I can do for you?" he huffed. Tabitha blinked, and turned her head to the side so she could get a look at her husky lover. What could he do for her? Wow! When was the last time she got THAT question? And when was the last time she'd been in a position to accept? "No, Baby, you're doin' jus' fine!" she gasped. "You keep doin' that, an' in a bit I'm gonna be one happy gal!" An answer didn't seem to be required, so Paul just worked on maintaining his rhythm. Tabitha obviously wasn't bringing her professional tools to bear, but this was still hands-down the finest piece of ass Paul had ever had! Habit and instinct had her clutching him gently with her vaginal muscles, a practiced, educated response well beyond the capability of most women. Only the fact that he was in recovery from a couple of huge orgasms kept him stable -- but that would be short lived, in any case... Tabitha started seriously losing control; Paul had her clit, and her G-spot -- and her brain, for that matter -- all going at once, and she couldn't just wait passively for the big bang any more. Instincts that seldom kicked in overrode programmed responses and she started to hunch to get that extra little bit, tuning her position to present herself for heavier impacts. "Uuh! Uuh! Uuh! Uuh! Go Lover! Oh, Lordy! Uh! Uh!! Uh!! UUH!! OH, GAWD!!!" Paul was rapidly drawn into the maelstrom as her pussy's clutch on him intensified and she wailed and rocked herself back into him. Suddenly, they were grinding themselves together while she clutched and milked him -- and all thought of getting her to another of these left him as her inner lining found some combination of contractions that provoked orgasm in him without any warning whatsoever! "Jeezus!" Tabitha hunched there for a moment, panting, but Paul had apparently finished, too, "You done, Baby?" "Yeah." Paul was absently rubbing her hips and her ass. "Okay, jus' leave me like this. I don' think I can move..." Paul chuckled and got up to get a washcloth. After washing himself off, he rinsed it and carried both it and a towel to Tabitha. "Do I need to straighten you out or something?" "No, I jus' didn't want ta dribble on the bed, so I figgered I'd keep it in the air. 'Sides, I was fresh out of energy..." Paul started wiping her vulva with the washrag, "So, I gather that it works?" "With the right pecker in it, anyway," Tabitha agreed. "That was... shit... damn good!" Clean and dry from the towel, she gingerly rocked forward, straightening her legs and stretching out. "Think y'all could cuddle an old whore while we get in another nap?" Paul shrugged and nodded. "I can do that." He tossed the washrag and the towel into the bathroom and crawled up onto the bed, pulling her against him. It only took a few moments for both of them to start snoring. ------- Randall staggered up off the open couch and wandered toward Mary's bathroom, bumping into things here and there due to the unfamiliar territory. This piss seemed to take forever, which Randall found amazing, but earlier in the evening there had been other imperatives. Exiting the bathroom, he discovered that the situation had changed; by the low light of a bedside lamp, the trio were writhing on the bed. Stick hopped up and grunted, "Figured we'd give ya some light..." as he passed by on the way to the bathroom. Teddy and Mary remained on the bed and Randall slowed to make out what was going on. It was a sixty-nine. Teddy's head was up between Mary's heavy thighs; Mary lay on her side with one leg cocked up and lapped and nibbled at Teddy's glans. Randall eyeballed it all for a moment, then winked at Mary, who just happened to be facing him, and passed on -- to discover Darla Jean hanging over the foot of the couch. "What are they doing?" she asked. "Soixante-neuf," Randall replied. "Kewl!" Darla Jean craned to get a better look. There was a pop as Mary's mouth cleared Teddy's glans. "You're gonna hurt your neck, Darla Jean! Come on over -- there's room on the bed..." Randall quelled his concerns as Darla Jean circled the couch -- but then she made it easier by capturing his hand and wrapping his arm around her waist, murmuring, "Come here, Sweetheart." The pair sidled up to the bed, where Mary had resumed compensating Teddy for his tongue work. "Whazzup?" Stick greeted them, announcing his return. "We're just watching..." Darla Jean murmured, embarrassed. Stick grinned. "Mebbe we oughta do a pussy-eatin' study..." "Some of us need to practice first," Randall replied, but he was easy about it. "Mmmm, maybe. Why don'cha set her there an' get you some?" Stick offered, waving at a corner of the bed. The surprised glint in Darla Jean's eyes was all Randall needed. "There are worse ideas..." Randall led Darla Jean to the foot of the right side of the bed as viewed from the head, where she could watch Teddy work on Mary, but Stick forestalled him. "I'm gonna be changin' shit here. Better park there 'til we get organized," he recommended, pointing to the other corner at the foot, which was closer to where Mary was servicing Teddy's erection. "Y'all can go anywhere ya want, once things get settled." That said, he rubbed Teddy's shoulder, "Lemme take over there, Ted. I got somethin' for ya." Teddy glanced up, took in Stick's erection, and nodded, rotating himself back and away so that Stick could insert his narrow frame into what was now a daisy chain with his head replacing Teddy's at Mary's vulva and Teddy, effectively upside-down, going to work on his cock and balls. This draped Stick at an angle, his head buried in Mary's crotch at about the center of the upper part of the bed and Mary's legs gathered more on the upper right corner, his legs extending down and to the lower right corner, almost draping over, while Teddy engaged his erection somewhere in the middle of the lower right quadrant of the bed then draped almost crosswise of the bed past the point where Mary suckled HIS erection. "Let's go up to the head," Randall suggested. The head of the bed on the left side was the location most open, so he settled Darla Jean with her ass on the edge of the bed, laying back on her elbows. This provided Darla Jean a prime view of Stick lapping at Mary's twat and a somewhat more distant one of Mary absorbing Teddy's cock. If she cranked her head back, she could see Teddy at work on Stick's erection, but it was more difficult. Randall lifted her spread heels to the edge of the mattress and murmured, "Let me know how I'm doing -- not stupid, fakey stuff -- just what's good and what isn't. I want it to be good..." And with that, he knelt up, leaned forward, and started tongue-lashing her inner labia. In a moment, Darla Jean was adding her own notes to the symphony of liquid sucking sounds and low moans being made by the other three. For Darla Jean, this was a dream come true! Within inches of her wondering eyes, Stick was whirling his tongue all over Mary's twat, drifting here and there and alternating long laps with suction on Mary's thin inner lips and the hood of her clit. Looking up Mary's body, she could see her working a mouthful of Teddy's chubby cock, lovingly suctioning it. Added to all the visual stimulation, Randall was setting HER twat on FIRE with his tongue! "Oooohhh! Easy! Not at the clit -- go alongside! It's too intense! Oh, God! Yeah! There!" Randall laved a bit along her clitoral hood, alternating sides, and she moaned, "Poke at my hole! Uhhh! Along the top -- yeah! Okay, now go back..." The other three were SOOO exciting, but Randall was KILLER!! Taking his cue from her directions, he rotated through attacking her labia, clitoral hood, and quick pokes at her vaginal opening, keeping the sensations fresh, everywhere, and making her moan and squirm. Darla Jean's moans were music to Randall's ears. He wanted her hotter than a pistol, as long as it was him making it happen! He ramped up the intensity of the attack, intent on bringing her off. Stick backed off Mary a moment so he could talk, "Hey Randall, watch this!" Randall popped his head up so he could see, and Stick, with great ceremony, wet his finger and started working it around Mary's sphincter while going back to laving her clit. Mary moaned intensely, and began to thrash. "OOOOO, GAAAAA!" she squawked around Teddy's cock, then her whole lower half started to shimmy! Her ass clenched and quivered, and her anus pulsed open, allowing Stick to insert his finger tip -- which seemed to set her off even harder! About that time, Randall slipped a finger into Darla Jean' twat to replace the tongue work he'd been doing so he could watch. Darla Jean arched and gasped. Then Randall decided that Mary had probably provided all the entertainment she was going to, so he went back to tonguing her clitoris. Darla Jean pinned his head in place, undulating slowly. "Rub me... a little higher... There!" she gasped, as Randall, following instructions, worked his finger along the upper surface of her twat, apparently finding her G-spot. "Ooohhhh! Mmmm! Mmmm!! Mmmm!! Mmmm!!" The undulations got fiercer and Darla Jean crushed Randall's face to her pulsing crotch as she slid over the top and into ecstasy, "OHGODOGODOGODOGOD!!!" In a moment, she let go and collapsed, gasping, "Oh, that was Heaven, Sweetheart!" 'Sweetheart, huh?' Randall thought. 'Well, that isn't too bad, I guess... ' He got up and pressed his diamond hard erection into her weeping vagina, sliding home in a tunnel still dripping with spit and feminine lubricants. Darla Jean's response was, "Mmmmm, don't you want me to suck it?" "Some other time." Randall wasn't backing out of THIS unless he had to! Resting his hands on her hips he set up a stroke between her upraised knees. Darla Jean had made the offer because everyone else was doing oral work, but she wasn't going to press in the face of Randall's efforts! How could he be so good? Her twat LOVED his cock -- it hit ALL the right places. Hell, it hit ALL the places! She could lay here like this and take his pounding... Except she couldn't -- not passively, anyway. Already, she was gripping his waist and corkscrewing her twat onto his cock as he drove it in, her ass going a mile a minute. Stick, having finished Mary, was watching the couple while Teddy bobbed on his cock. "Shit! She's a dancer, ain't she, Randall?" Randall grinned tightly and nodded, but he needed his breath and as few distractions as possible, at this point. Once Darla Jean got going, it was tough to figure out who was in control, under the best of circumstances! He concentrated on matching Darla Jean's slowly accelerating series of gyrations, watching her face redden and her small breasts wobble to her panting breaths. Stick looked down at Teddy, "Hey, Man, Mary's wet -- why don't you see if you can get it in?" Ted disengaged from Stick's cock, wetly. "What about you?" "I was thinkin' 'bout that sandwich thing we did the other night..." "Lube's in the nightstand," Mary offered, pulling off Teddy's mushroom glans. "C'mon Teddy, I'll kneel up." "What about..." Teddy nodded at Randall and Darla Jean. "Oh, I think he's over the whole queer thing, for now," Stick grunted. " 'Sides, they're busy." Teddy nodded and scrambled up to get the lube while Mary rolled up onto her knees. In a moment, he was fitting his fat cock into her vagina -- mashing it in with some difficulty, the effort of getting it past the ring of muscle at her opening distorting his spongy glans. Randall, having soaked up at least the fact that they were changing position, nudged Darla Jean, who watched this new act with glassy eyes. Teddy's glans popped through, and Mary grunted, "Gawd, I'm plugged! Take it easy, now!" "Y'all can do the movin' for now," Stick directed. "I need Ted to hold still while I get him ready to be the next piece." He swatted Teddy on the ass, gently. "Lean forward an' grab Mama's love handles, Ted." Teddy did so, and Stick started working lube into his anus with his finger. Randall, watching with glassy eyes, hadn't put two and two together -- too much of his mind was taken up with the feel of his cock plumbing Darla Jean's depths. Darla Jean caught on, though, and swiveled her attention back to Randall. How would he handle this? Stick applied one, then two fingers to Teddy's asshole, and Randall just couldn't go on being dense. "You're... not gonna..." he wheezed. "Yeh," Stick replied, matter-of-factly, "I am. Ted likes it. You don' hafta watch..." He wiped his lubricant-smeared hands on his erect cock and knelt up behind Teddy. "Here goes!" Randall couldn't have looked away if it meant electrocution -- and neither could Darla Jean! Teddy's head came up and he grimaced, but if anything, it looked like he was trying to aid the impalement. Stick took his time, taking little nods from Teddy as his cue to go for another inch or so, so it took a good minute and a half before his nappy pubes rubbed Teddy's ass. Stick backed off and sawed in and out a half-dozen times, then grunted, "Okay, Ted. It's all yours!" Mary stopped moving, and Teddy started, shuttling himself between being balls-deep in Mary and having Stick balls-deep in him. Both of his partners adjusted themselves to the stroke, and Teddy started driving the train toward completion, an act they'd done in a slightly different variation before. Both Teddy and Stick would grunt on every back-stroke, but that didn't keep Teddy from pumping. Mary would moan as Teddy plowed into her, adding a bit of syncopation to the act. Randall and Darla Jean watched, amazed, their own activity slowing for a moment; obviously all of the participants in the little train that Teddy was acting as the engine for were enjoying themselves -- something Randall found starkly amazing. Teddy's face was a rictus, but he was panting like a steam whistle, and the occasional intelligible noise was a "Good..." or "Yeah..." But then Randall and Darla Jean's own arousal picked up again, overpowering the urge to watch someone else despite having been triggered by it, and they began paying attention only to their own act again. Teddy ran things for a while, but Stick started feeling some urgency and, timing his stroke, started applying an exclamation point to Teddy's impacts on Mary's vulva. The little bit extra that Stick was applying to his prostate upped the ante for Teddy, too, and the trio began to rush toward completion. They failed to arrive before Darla Jean and Randall, however. Every time Randall added fuel to the fire, Darla Jean found a reaction that spiraled things higher! At this point, despite the fact that they were setting a pace that threatened to start a fire from the friction if lubrication should momentarily fail, Darla Jean was urging Randall with both hands on his hips and gyrating at a frantic rate, her ankles crossed behind his back! "OOOOO Lover! I'm so close!" she panted, eyes wild. Randall, deep in the sensations of the moment, found an additional millimeter of throttle and they both red-lined, Darla Jean screeching, "O GOD! YES!! YES!! YES!! YESSS!!!" while she crushed him to her with her heels. Randall's answering detonation was quieter, but no less intense as he tried to force himself into her tightly squeezing snatch, swelling and surging, his consciousness riding the wave of the first pulse of his ejaculation. In a moment, it was over, and Randall, on wobbly knees, lifted Darla Jean's hips to slide her further onto the bed so he could collapse atop her. This put her back up next to Mary, who was in final approach. Listlessly satiated, she smiled up at Mary, "Good, huh?" Idly, for no reason she could name, she reached out and collected one of Mary's big nipples and began to fondle it. "OOOOOOOO, GAWWWWDDD!!!" Mary went off, jumping and shuddering, her ass shimmying. Teddy's eyes bulged; territory that he'd thoroughly plowed went from slowly renewing the fight to actively contesting his thrusts, ratcheting up the sensations unbearably. Stick, of course, continued to plow remorselessly into his ass, and Teddy, caught between a rock and a hard place, got the juice squeezed out of him, "AAAAAAWWWWWW!!!!" His fat cock let go of another seeming quart of semen, and his ass, working to assist, wrung Stick, who was already on the edge. "HOT DAMN! JEEZUS!!" Stick ranted, crushing himself to Teddy while cum gouted from him into Teddy's spasming colon. "FUCK, that's good!" Randall lay collapsed across Darla Jean, watching the climax blankly. Apparently, it was pretty good for everybody... Stick turned to him and urged, panting, "You gotta try her ass, Man! It's different, but it's damn good!" Randall just nodded, not really sure what to say. Darla Jean, though, had a comment, "Oh, he will. Randall owns ALL my cherries, don't you Sweetheart?" Randall just grinned. "I gotta flatten this mess out for a nap," Stick grunted. "Y'all think ya can go back ta the couch?" "Sure." Randall started looking for energy, while Stick started hefting Teddy under the shoulders to get him off Mary. Teddy was a rag doll, totally wasted, but his erection was still stuck in Mary like a dog's knot. "Pull, Mary," Stick directed, and Mary lunged forward. There was a pop, and Teddy was free and a huge creampie started pouring from Mary. "Wow!" Randall exclaimed, watching the flood pour out. Darla Jean's wide eyes also tracked the flow. "Yeh, Ted makes the stuff by the gallon," Stick chuckled. Randall got his arms under Darla Jean, scooping her up as Mary waddled off the bed and headed for the bathroom. "One day, I'm gonna remember to keep a towel handy," she chuckled. ------- Irma Nally lay in her bed, glaring. Mary was OBVIOUSLY having another wild sex party with THOSE BOYS! But she dared not get up, because Arthur was there in HIS bed, glaring back -- just DARING her to interfere! Irma had NO IDEA what had gotten into Arthur, lately... 'I am by God gonna have a word with the Frick boy's mother, ' Irma thought. 'THAT will put an end to HIS little party... ' What to do about the black boy was, alas, nowhere near as clear... ------- Ed's alarm was yammering, but when he pounded the bedside table trying to hit the shutoff, it wasn't there -- and the bed was moving! "Git offa me, ya ol' bastid!" it ranted, "An' how do ya shut dis thing off?" "Big button on top!" Ed yelled. Things went deafeningly silent -- too silent to cover his muttered, "Silly bitch..." Ed rolled over and Velma crab-walked out from under him, muttering, "Y'all got DAT right..." Ed grunted and glared at Velma, so she waved an arm angrily, "G'wan back ta sleep!" She shuffled off to collect her nightie, grumbling, "Lays on toppa me, squashin' me flat fo' four houahs..." 'Big bitch was soft, too, ' flickered through Ed's mind. "Next you'll be wantin' a bigger bed." The voice in his ear let him know he'd drifted off for a few seconds, "Ah got one. Ah'll be back in an houah." Soft lips grazed his neck. Ed drifted off wondering if he should just relax, or complain about it. Velma closed Ed's door and turned to discover Inez standing there, bug-eyed. "I knocked on your door when you weren't in the kitchen," the Hispanic woman stammered. Velma gathered herself. "Ah'll be along in a bit -- ah gotta showah. We gotta shitload a' young folk in da house, so y'all bettah cut up some mo' fruit fo' cereal." She stopped, frowning. "Bein' it's Saturday, mebbe they'll wanna eat a real breakfast... Da Boss will probly want them tortillas, though." Inez nodded, recognizing a dismissal, and headed for the kitchen. Velma arrived in the kitchen before six; the two women didn't discuss the meeting in the hallway, but Inez watched Velma wander out the door with a cup of coffee at six-thirty with a bit of a 'deer in the headlights' look. At six-thirty, Velma went through Ed's door like she lived there, figuring it was best to brazen it out. Placing the coffee on his nightstand, she leaned over to kiss his neck again. "Time ta get up." Ed flicked at his neck like he'd been bitten by an insect. "What're ya doin' leaving lip marks on my neck all of a sudden?" "Scarin' ya ta death," Velma simpered. "They's coffee dere on da table..." She swept out. "Ya got THAT right," Ed muttered to himself. ------- Inez tottered off to take Jason his breakfast at seven -- and came back at seven-thirty with a pattern of suspicious wet blotches on her peasant blouse and a scarlet blush. Recent experience allowed Velma to identify the product by smell. "Honey, yo' bettah change yo' blouse; Mistah Jason's spunk be smellin' pretty strong, dere..." "I... can't," Inez replied miserably. "Oh. Well, we'll wait an' see if da Boss or Miz Sharon don't change Mistah Jason's mind. Best put on a apron, anyhow." Inez did so gratefully. Ed wandered in about seven forty-five. Velma gave him the eye over taking an hour and a quarter to get organized, to which Ed bristled, "What? It's Saturday..." "Nuthin'." Velma pretended unconcern. "What'cha want for breakfast, ya rapist bastid?" Inez gave the pair a sidelong look, but said nothing. "Where's dat coffee cup?" "Shit." Ed glanced out the door. "Y'all probly got eight of 'em in yoah room..." "Yeah, yeah," Ed waved it off. "I'll get 'em later. Got any bacon? Crisp, not that fat sloppy stuff..." "Ah kin make some. Y'all want another cup o' coffee?" Velma was already drawing it from the pot. Inez, watching the byplay, having been clued in that it was unusual, watched Ed squeeze Velma's ass as she bent to place the cup before him. "Dat ain't yoah's," Velma objected, but it was matter-of-fact, and accompanied a look of smug satisfaction that confirmed the couple's status to Inez beyond doubt. Ed's grunted, "Mebbe," wasn't accompanied by any immediate movement, either. Inez watched Velma fuss over Ed in totally unprecedented fashion for several minutes, smiling. ------- "Little one..." A heavy hand settled on Leticia's back. "Time to get up. You drink from Boris again before you go." Leticia suddenly realized that the lumpy mattress she was laying on wasn't. Struggling up, she got herself oriented and backed off Boris' thick body. Boris immediately sat up. "First, I go make water. You come, too -- clean Boris up." Boris's pubes were gooey, probably from the seeming quart of jism he'd filled her with the night before. Boris took her by the wrist, but she followed him meekly into the bathroom. The previous night had been a revelation -- and a confirmation. Deep inside, Leticia harbored feelings about the role of the races that many of her sisters might have taken issue with; in her world, white men were the root of all power. White men ran the world -- and white women who had sex with -- or worse -- submitted themselves to the arrogance and brutality of black men were fools who were doing little better than going out to the barn and rutting with the livestock. THAT was why Leticia reacted so strongly to Nora's pursuit of Nate -- not out of any outrage over the fact that she was taking Nate away from her black sisters, but rather disgust that she would lower herself to Nate, squandering her birthright! Leticia gravitated to Armand in an effort to improve her lot and those of her children by submitting herself not just to a white man, but one who understood power. Leticia had experienced the ego, anger, and lust of black males and knew it for what it was -- bravado, an angry reaction to a world where they would never be ascendant. Armand had attracted her powerfully by his subtlety, his effortless use of his REAL power and his sexual magnetism -- but she hadn't been good enough, and the dream had slipped away. Last night, however, after having her submit to Sharon -- which was, after all, an extension of the natural order of things -- her Master had gifted her with the lesson that the raw power of the male existed even in the least of his servants. Boris had been amazing, and she had responded to him powerfully, just as she did now... While Boris urinated copiously, Leticia dampened a washrag in warm water; when he was finished, she went immediately to work on his pubes, clearing their mixed juices from his crotch. When she was done, he directed, "Sit. Open your mouth." Leticia lowered the seat, but not the lid, and settled on the toilet, for she, too, had to pee. Boris stepped forward and slid his still-soft shank into her mouth, cupping the back of her head to bring her forward onto it. Leticia offered no resistance at all as she laved his member with her tongue, drawing satisfaction from his hisses of pleasure and the growth of his member in her mouth as she tasted the last dregs of his urine that hadn't been released into the bowl. Soon it was swollen and solid and Boris was driving her onto it in a regular rhythm. Leticia forgot about urinating -- she was too busy with other things. Boris reflected that the scrawny negress gave a fine blowjob; she had thick, soft lips and knew enough to keep them clamped tightly around him without overdoing it. She also managed to keep her teeth out of the way and her tongue working the underside of his member -- Boris was going to miss this. On the other hand, somehow, he knew she'd be back... "Da. Da. We finish soon, little slut. Yessss..." He enjoyed himself thoroughly, moving her head about as he wished over a period of several minutes. Boris surprised Leticia. Instead of pouring his copious load down her throat, he stepped back at the last moment and shot it all over her face, neck and breasts! Stepping back in, he grunted, "Clean me," and Leticia collected the last dribbles in her mouth, while wet white goo dribbled down her front. In a moment, Boris stepped back and grunted, "Go, now, and see both Charles and Mistress Sharon. Tell them Boris was pleased with your effort. Do not dress and do not clean up until one of them tells you that you can." He followed her to the door of his suite and watched as she furtively stuck her head into the hallway and began to cover up. "Hands at your sides!" he barked. "You will wear Boris's seed proudly! Do not cover up!" A quick swat on her ass for emphasis nearly lifted her from the floor! "Yes, Boris!" she squealed, and minced off down the hallway. Boris chuckled. If Leticia was inclined to be haughty, HE certainly hadn't noticed it! Finding Charles was easy; he was still in his quarters. He listened poker-faced to her by-rote recitation of Boris's instructions and wondered briefly if he should add to her bukake load, but decided against it; let Boris have her -- the Wench took all of Charles' spare seed as it was, and she wasn't really getting enough... "Go see Sharon -- she's in charge of your wardrobe. I last saw her with Mr. Wilson -- you can either check there or check her quarters first. Either way, you stay as you are until she tells you differently, and that includes looking like a cum dumpster. Understood?" "Yessir!" Leticia headed out the door, head up. Did she dare disturb Master, or was it safer to wander half of the house naked, gooey, and smelling of sex? Well, Master's rooms WERE closer... Charles hit the intercom. "Wench!" The Wench struggled up in her kennel and answered, "Sir?" "My room! Now!" "Yes, Sir!" 'Oh, goody! I'm gonna get some dick!' the Wench thought. Things had been slow around here for the last few days, especially since Mistress had taken over handling much of Master's overflow... She hustled out of her rooms, combing her fingers through her hair. ------- "Master?" Leticia's voice came hesitantly across the intercom when Armand acknowledged the buzz. "Is Mistress with you?" "Actually, she is," Armand replied, jostling Sharon to get her going. She'd awakened at the buzz, but she wasn't truly conscious yet; the shake alerted her to her environment. Armand gave her the eye, and Sharon rapidly got a grip. "Yes, Leticia?" "Boris instructed me to report to both you and Charles, Mistress. And Charles sent me to you, saying that you are in charge of my clothing..." "Mmmm, yes..." Armand had directed that. Sharon arched an eyebrow at him, and he nodded assent. "Come on in." She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. Leticia entered diffidently, displaying her sticky chest. "Is that what I think it is?" Sharon asked. "Yes, Mistress. It's Boris's... cum." "So Boris wasn't pleased?" "Oh, no, Mistress!" Leticia gathered herself in. "I'm instructed to inform you that I was satisfactory." "Uh huh," Sharon replied dubiously. "So why the mess?" "I think he was... marking me," Leticia replied. "You were to see it." Armand grunted. "Call him." Sharon picked up the house phone, and put it on speaker. In a moment, the heavy voice answered, "Boris." "Boris, this is Sharon. Leticia says she was satisfactory -- is that true?" "Da," Boris rumbled a laugh. "Yes. Very much. Why?" "I was wondering why you spewed on her." "Was... humiliation. I sent her to find you both, so she could be seen. She was to be humiliated, yes?" "Yes, she was," Sharon tittered. Boris's voice became stilted, formal. "I thank you, Madame. I had a very pleasant night. Please thank Mr. Wilson for me." "I'm here, and you're welcome, Boris," Armand replied, pre-empting Sharon. "But we're not done with Leticia, and it appears that you did a good job with her. I think we'll remand her to your tender mercies again tonight for say, anal sex?" Leticia's expression was priceless; the whites showed all around her irises as she contemplated absorbing Boris's thick cock via her tiny anus. "And anything else you care to dream up -- but at least that," Armand amended. Boris rumbled a chuckle. "Da. Yes, sir. I will make a point of it. Is she there?" "Yes." "May I?" "Go ahead." "My little black slut," Boris directed, "You will go back to Charles, and have him fit you with a... plug. It should be of medium size. Anything else he or Miz Sharon wishes to add to this you will also accept from them. You will come to me when you are done for the evening wearing this plug. Be sure you also bring a lubricant. Do you understand, Little One?" "Yes, Boris." "Go, then." "Wait!" Sharon interjected. "I am in charge of your wardrobe, as I understand it..." "Yes, Mistress," Leticia was properly wary. "Do you have a bikini? Preferably something bright, to set off your coloration?" "Yes, Mistress, I have a yellow print bikini..." "You may wash, and put it on. It is your uniform for the day. Charles will integrate it with whatever he does to you," Sharon directed. "Yes, Mistress." Sharon waved, and Leticia got out of there. In the background, Boris laughed. "Get Charles," Armand directed, "and keep Boris on the line." "I... don't know how," Sharon admitted. "Watch." Armand set up the sequence. "Got it?" "Umm, yes, I think." "Charles," the speakerphone emitted. "Charles," Armand said, "Leticia will be visiting you, wearing a bikini, to get a medium-sized butt-plug. Don't we have some horse tails?" "We do, Sir," Charles agreed. "See that she gets one. Modify the bikini bottom so that the tail itself is exposed." In the background, Boris's laugh rumbled again. "Yes, Sir." You could hear Charles' smile. Frankly, he hated being distracted while the Wench knelt servicing his cock, but when duty called, it might as well be pleasant... "That's all. Good morning, gentlemen." Armand closed the connection. Turning to Sharon, he frowned, "Now, what am I going to do with you?" "Ummm, sex?" Sharon offered. "Good idea. Anal is the subject of the morning, and you require an object lesson. Kneel up." Sharon opened her mouth, thought better of it, and knelt up. There were times and places you fought and argued, and there were times and places you didn't -- and this was one of the latter. The penetration was painful -- for both of them. Armand insisted on going in dry, despite the discomfort to himself, as an exercise in control. Well, it wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last; Sharon hunkered down and pushed, doing her best to open up her cringing sphincter. It hurt like Hell, and Sharon hated it -- at least, the part of her that wasn't masochistic did... Once he'd popped through he sawed back and forth fairly gently, using short strokes to collect and spread her colon's natural lubricant, rather than jamming away. It took a bit longer, but it didn't positively ruin Sharon -- and he was there to demonstrate control, not bench her. Besides, she'd generally been good... Finally, things got going and he could take a decent stroke -- which presented an excuse for an occasional swat on her ample ass to tighten her up. "Go ahead and masturbate," he directed -- that would tend to help, too. Ultimately, it was a pretty good ride -- for both of them. The rough start detracted from things by irritating the surfaces where they were joined, but things got slicker and the faint buzz left over paradoxically lent its support to the contrasting pleasure. Armand didn't worry about Sharon -- that would have been out of character -- but the grant of masturbation and the perverse stimulation of having her ass slowly reddened brought Sharon to a point where when Armand buried himself and started painting her insides with his semen, her triumph at success combined with a few final tweaks of her clitoris brought a satisfying little cum. For Armand, it was as much about visualizing his plans for the aftermath as it was about the ride itself... Armand waited for a few seconds after her soft grunt of completion, then swatted her on the ass. "Clean me up," he directed. Sharon sighed and grimaced; she knew better than to go get a washrag. She crawled forward, releasing Armand's member. Armand stopped her momentarily while he collected some tissues from a box on the nightstand and stuffed the wad into her still gaping anus, then grunted, "Okay." Sharon rotated, dreading what she'd find; she hadn't been prepared for this morning's little escapade by an enema, so the chances were... yeah, Armand's cock was streaked. She glanced up, realizing as well as he did that her humiliation and disgust were fueling his pleasure, then steeled herself for the dirty deed. God, cleaning shit off a cock with your mouth was just... nasty! Somehow, she managed not to vomit -- although she DID retch a couple of times. Armand allowed himself a tight grin. This humiliation was at least as important as the pain/pleasure preceding it... When she was done, he pushed her away by her shoulder, deliberately spurning her. "Go clean up," he directed, "and on the way tell Inez I want an egg and chorizo burrito, grapefruit juice, and coffee." "Yes, Armand." Sharon staggered gratefully toward the master suite's bath and stuck her head under the faucet. Yuck! Armand let this ride for a minute or so, then got up and sauntered into the bath, "Are you still here? Get going, before I decide to use you for a urinal! Oh, and you might want to remove the tissues, although they make a cute tail..." Watching her attempts at tissue removal from her now closed anus offered further amusement, but it was short-lived, as Sharon took her instructions to heart. "Clear all of these clothes out of here," he added, "but don't put anything on until you get to your rooms..." Sharon sighed and gathered up Leticia's and her things from the floor on the way out. The kitchen was on the way, so it made no sense to call in an order -- besides, she KNEW what Armand wanted of her. Entering the kitchen, she went straight to Inez, more or less ignoring Ed -- although she was fig- leafed bit by the bundled clothing in her arms. "Armand wants a... burrito? Egg and..." "Chorizo, Miss?" Inez supplied. "That was it. Grapefruit juice and coffee." Sharon turned to walk out. "Ma'am?" Inez asked. "Yes?" "Is that today's uniform?" "Oh!" Sharon tittered. "No, this is temporary." She wandered out, still chuckling. If Ed saw her ass, so what? There was enough of it... Ed pretended to be blasé about the whole thing -- something assisted by the fact that he'd seen it all before, whether he could admit it or not. Besides, he was amused by the fact that Velma suddenly appeared behind him and started rubbing a shoulder. He lifted an eyebrow and grinned at her, "So..." "Aw shut up..." Velma, embarrassed, moved off. "Maybe YOU oughta wear the uniform of the day..." "Ah'd kill folk. Dey'd choke ta death if Ah walked in while they was eatin'." Ed let it ride. ------- Leticia showered quickly, fished out her yellow bikini patterned with white flowers, and headed off to report to Charles. When she knocked, his "Enter!" appeared strained, for obvious reasons. "Wait there," he directed, pointing to a spot by the door, while he, standing, poured cock to the Wench, who was kneeling on his bed, obviously happy to be on the receiving end, by the look on her face. She was obviously one happy white slut, a beatific smile on her face as she rammed herself back at Charles, her small titties jiggling. "Put your head down, Wench!" Charles directed, and the ex-model ay her head on her crossed arms, taking his thrusts with soft grunts. This went on for a good five minutes, during which Leticia watched the Wench get one obvious cum, and possibly more. Towards the end, Charles grunted, "I'm going to ask Armand if I can get children on you; it'll keep you busy and give you a bit more of a figure... You want to be a mother?" Perversely, the Wench went nuts! Charles, amazed at the results of what had been an idle taunt, lost control and gouted into the Wench's spasming vagina while the Wench jack-hammered herself back at him, her eyes totally gone wild, wailing reedily through paralyzed lungs. After leaning on her a moment to get his breath, he gasped, "Where did THAT come from? Did I trigger the alarm on your biological clock?" "Ummm, I guess, Sir," the Wench replied, "Something in my head got a kick out of it. It might have just been the fantasy, though..." "Maybe," Charles grunted. Turning his attention to Leticia, he directed, "You, get over here and clean me up!" Leticia moved to obey, while the Wench looked a question over her shoulder. Charles responded, "Leticia is being punished for forgetting herself and her station, and I suspect that it is going to go on for a while. You may actually discover that her station is, in effect, temporarily below yours, since I suspect that your Master plans to remind her that she is a slut and a cum-dumpster. Aren't you, Leticia?" Leticia went a bit grey at this while she knelt before Charles, but her voice was clear as she replied, "Yes, Sir." Charles' member was already softening as he withdrew it from the Wench and presented it to Leticia, but it was quite gooey. "Get to work," he instructed. "Wench, stay where you are." "Yes, Sir." The Wench had a good idea where THIS was going... Leticia didn't. She was concentrating on sucking the combination of Charles' and the Wench's juices from his cock, scrotum, and pubes -- so it was with some surprise that she received Charles' next instruction when she settled back onto her heels. "Now clean out the Wench," he directed, "and make sure she enjoys it!" Leticia grimaced in surprise and disgust, prompting Charles to add, "What? It's white man's sperm. And it's in a white woman's pussy. You felch it out -- NOW!" Turning to the Wench, he added, "Sit up on the edge of the bed so you drain. Use her for your pleasure, while you're at it." "Yes, Sir." The Wench plastered Leticia's face to her runny vulva. "I'm hearing a lot of racial stuff, here, Sir..." "Leticia saw fit to disparage Miss Nora and her choice in boyfriends. If this was a perfect world, I'd have young Mr. Adams ride her bareback until she threw him a child, but that would probably disrupt his relationship with Miss Nora. That being the case, we're reminding her that she arrived here in pursuit of white dick, and that there is plenty of it around here for the likes of her worthless black ass... It won't hurt her to suck a little white pussy, either -- she did Sharon last night, didn't you, Dear?" The Wench let her up for air, and Leticia responded, "Sir?" "Did you suck Mistress Sharon's twat last night? Answer up, or I'll have you eat ALL the female servants, starting with, say, Velma..." "I-I did, Sir! And she used a strap-on on me, too!" Leticia's eyes were wide. Velma? He wouldn't! He couldn't! Could he? Ohmigod! This concern was rapidly superseded, however, as Charles circled behind her and began probing her ass through her bikini bottoms with a finger, "Back to work!" The Wench supported Charles' directive by again drawing Leticia to her crotch. Rising, Charles wandered off for a moment, to come back with a felt-tip and scissors. "Oookay," he murmured, again probing for Leticia's anus through the cloth. Having found it, he marked the spot with the felt-tip. Looking up, he asked, "How's she doing?" "The cleaning's about done, I think," the Wench replied in a strained voice. "We're getting to the fun part." Leticia silently wondered if she was in agreement with the Wench -- well, maybe by comparison. Sucking mixed goo out of another woman's pussy was pretty damned embarrassing, and while either cum or pussy juice grew on you, the mixture wasn't all that great... Fortunately, the Wench had a big, easy to get at clit and wasn't a slow starter. Leticia had participated in a little all-girl fun in her modeling days, too, and although she preferred to receive, she was no stranger to giving head. Given the opportunity, the Wench was letting go and having fun, clutching the black woman's face to her in a tense but gentle grip. Leticia obviously knew what she was doing; the Wench's clit was on fire from the tongue-lashing it was getting! "There! Yeah! Oh, God! From the top! The bottom's too... Aah! Sensitive! Gimme a finger! Umm! Yes! Easy -- fingernails! Ahh! Ahh! Umm!" The Wench began to arch her back and shake -- it wouldn't be long, now! Her head was buzzing and her nerves were twitching; she was about to sample the raw pleasure of having her clit mauled for the first time in several days! The Wench, now that her sexuality was released, loved to fuck -- it brought rich, smooth, powerful orgasms -- but sometimes the sharp, raw, intense blast you got from a direct attack on the clit by a soft tongue was just the thing... The Wench's eyes rolled up as her body was bathed in the fountain of sparks radiating from her engorged clit. The tendons of her inner thighs stood out in sharp relief as she tensed, grunting and grasping, her arms locked rigid as she held Leticia in place while somehow not crushing her head, "AAAAAHHHH!!!" She undulated once, twice, three times, before collapsing back onto the bed. "Ummmmm, that was nice!" "Good," Charles approved. His cock was attempting to muster resources for another erection from watching, but suspicious that chasing another orgasm in such a short space of time would be a frustrating waste, he passed on encouraging it directly. "Stand up!" he ordered Leticia. When she was vertical, Charles again probed her with a finger, locating and marking the location of her cringing sphincter and marking it with the felt- tip. "Okay, take off the bottoms." Leticia gave him a look, but stepped out of the bikini bottoms; the last twelve hours or so were a trip back to when she took her run at Armand, and those memories had brought with them an appreciation of the consequences of disobedience. That this WASN'T Armand had recently proven irrelevant; Armand hadn't messed with her much, but his chosen instruments had been serious about putting her through her paces. She put the bright swatch of cloth in Charles' hand. Charles turned to the Wench, "Get me a tail -- medium plug -- and some lube." The Wench was off the bed like a shot. "Bend over the bed," Charles directed Leticia. He spent the next couple of minutes probing Leticia's pussy for lubrication, then probing her ass with the wetted finger. When the Wench returned, she had two tails on medium butt-plugs, one a long horse tail, and another with a short, corkscrewed pig's tail. Charles glanced at the latter and chuckled, then waved it in front of Leticia. "Next time you get THIS!" Turning to the Wench, he directed, "Mount the horse tail. I've been working her ass a bit -- see if it'll go without lube." In the meantime, he went to work on the bikini bottoms, cutting a vertical slit between the two marks he'd made and extending a bit beyond. The Wench rounded on Leticia. "This isn't going to be pleasant," she warned, and began forcing the butt-plug into Leticia's protesting anus. "Push like you have to go," she recommended, "It'll help you open up." This wasn't the first time Leticia had taken a butt-plug, but the others had been while she had Armand's primary attention, which had been a while back. She grunted in pain, gritting her teeth, but the Wench's advice DID help, some... Charles' fingers had opened her up to the point that the relatively narrow tip was no problem, but it kept getting thicker and thicker until she was sure she was going to tear... Then, mercifully, the head was past her sphincter and it closed around the narrower neck. Charles tossed the bikini bottoms at the Wench. "Get her into this. The tail goes through the slit. Move her around and make sure she has full motion." Turning to Leticia, he added, "This is your uniform of the day. Do not remove the tail, except for obvious reasons. Return to the Wench at five for an enema -- Boris will want you clean. Now get out of here, both of you! Now!" "B-but..." Letica sputtered -- she wasn't in the bottoms yet. "Go like that! The Wench can fit you at her kennel. Get out of my sight!" Charles roared. They hurried out, leaving Charles grinning at the picture Leticia made trying to hide her exposure as they took off down the hall. ------- Chapter 45A: Morning Sex and Camel Fights "Lordy, 'Ticia, What's dat?" Velma exclaimed when Leticia and the Wench entered the kitchen after the fitting of the tail was complete. Inez, holding Armand's breakfast tray, gaped. First Boris, and later Charles had joined Ed, who was still lounging at the breakfast table, so there were plenty of males present to enjoy Leticia's embarrassment. "It's a tail," she sighed, miserably. "I pissed off Mr. Wilson with my bad attitude, and I'm being punished." "Howzit stuck on?" "Stuck IN, is more like it," the Wench simpered. "It's on a butt- plug." "It's in yoah ass?" Velma blinked. "Uh huh." Leticia hung her head. "If my master sees that..." Inez shuddered and made her exit, carrying Armand's breakfast tray. "Come here, Little One," Boris directed, raising a number of eyebrows among those uninformed of current events. He pushed his chair back, adding, "Here, over my lap." Even more amazing to the witnesses was Leticia's meek obedience to the heavy Georgian. There was no hesitation, no demurral as the narrow black woman settled herself across his knees. Widening the slit in the bikini bottom with his thick fingers, he exposed the plug base, inviting Velma to examine it. "See?" "Lordy!" Velma looked at Ed and opened her mouth, but changed her mind and settled for shaking her head. Ed chuckled. "What else did the Boss do? Tell her she had to take shit from everybody?" Why was she just handing herself over to Boris? "Leticia had quite a night," Charles related. "The Boss had her eat Mistress Sharon, then Mistress Sharon did her with a strap-on." Velma looked confused, so Charles amplified, "It's a dildo -- a fake penis -- that a woman can wear..." Velma's eyes popped, and Charles chuckled. "Then he sent her off to Boris here for some obedience training. Actually, you were on the short list, Ed, but you appeared to be otherwise occupied..." This was accompanied by another grin. "Oh, shit..." Ed gasped. Velma covered her mouth and shuffled off to pretend to do something at the sink. "So everybody knows?" "Too many for secrecy, including Mr. Wilson and Sharon," Charles agreed. Leticia almost forgot the embarrassment of having Boris rub her ass while she looked back and forth from Ed to Velma. "Really?" She caught Velma's eye; Velma shrugged, grimaced, and nodded. Ed sighed, grunted, "No good can come of this. Bring me some more coffee, Woman." "Yoah laigs broke, ya ol' bastid?" Velma replied, but she was already moving. "I think I threw my back out last night," Ed deadpanned. Several chuckles erupted. "Besides, if I make ya wait on me hand and foot, maybe you'll drop a pound." "Ah'd probly lose it offa these," Velma teased, hefting her huge mammaries. "Best forget it, then. I'll get my own." But Velma was placing a fresh cup before him as he said it. "Besides, y'all cain't work me hard enough ta get me ta shrink any." "She's right," Charles chuckled, "But kids might..." Ed glanced up and surprised an absolute deer-in-the-headlights look on Velma's face. "Holy shit!" he burst out. Charles and Boris both laughed, and Velma RAN back to the sink and started clattering pans to cover her embarrassment. "I think we hit a hot button," Charles observed. "Shit, if I got those jugs going, she could feed quadruplets, a litter of puppies, AND me!" Ed chuckled. "But I dunno if I can even be a decent boyfriend, never mind a father..." "Join the club," came from the door. Jason came in, shaking his head. "Speaking of which, where's my worthless slut of a woman?" "Off delivering breakfast to Mr. Wilson," Charles replied. "What did I miss?" Jason asked. "Who are you getting kids on, Ed? Velma?" Ed rolled his eyes. "Fuck, does EVERYBODY know?" He shook his head. "Ain't no kids. But Velma's biological clock is Big Ben, it looks like." Jason was seldom approachable, but appeared to be genial enough this morning -- probably thanks to that 'worthless slut of a woman'... "She's the motherly type," Jason agreed. "She apparently took YOU on..." Surprised laughter from several sources greeted this. "Well, it was sorta mutual..." Ed labored to get out from under the teasing. "It works better that way," Jason responded blandly. Turning to Velma, he directed, "Have Inez bring me coffee, half a grapefruit, and Grape Nuts -- plenty of sugar." "Suh." Velma nodded. Jason directed a "Nice tail," at Leticia and walked out. Boris let the embarrassed black woman up and ordered, "Bring me eggs, over easy, and some of that flat bread that Inez makes..." "Tortillas?" Velma supplied. "Yes, tortillas," Boris agreed. "Tomato juice and coffee -- strong coffee -- Velma knows." He rubbed Leticia's ass familiarly. "You should eat, too. Maybe I will ask the Boss if I can get children on you so those little bumps on your chest swell up, no?" "Uuh," Leticia gasped. Gawd, was he really... "There has to be a better reason than that..." "Make you good in bed?" Boris countered. "Give you..." He made grasping motions with his heavy hands, "... Love handles?" He wriggled his eyebrows. "Oh, God!" Leticia moaned, skittering off. Boris's booming laugh followed her, supported by chuckles from the other men. "I see you had fun," Ed observed. "Da," Boris replied complacently, "I did." ------- Sharon crossed the house to her rooms, showered, changed into a sleeveless top and a pleated skirt that rode just above the knee, and drifted down the hall to check on her daughter and her lover. When she eased the door open, she found Nate and Nora side by side in bed, kissing, with that sweaty, sated look that said there had been a recent sex act. She cleared her throat to announce herself and said, "I see you're awake. Have you checked on your guests?" "Don't have to," Nate grinned, "Listen." There was a rhythmic murmuring coming through the wall from the next room. Sharon stepped closer and could just make out a feminine voice repeating a litany of "Oh, Baby! Oh, Baby! Oh, Baby!" "They're busy," Nate grinned. "I see." Sharon managed to keep a straight face. "Well, you all ought to think about breakfast -- and I've been reminded that there are outdoor facilities here. Maybe you all might want to do a bit of swimming in the pool? I'm sure Inez's daughter Bianca could show you around -- and it would take her mind off of her recent loss..." "What loss? -- Oh! Bianca's father just died," Nora amplified for Nate. "That's not a bad idea, Mom -- but I might need you to help us clear it with Tenisha's folks. Tenisha didn't ask to stay until late -- Draper's suspicious nature took a while to overcome -- and her mom is suspicious that she's not where she said she is." "Just call me," Sharon said, heading for the door. "In the meantime, when they finish, you might all clean up and head for the dining room, so the kitchen staff doesn't have to spend all morning on high alert." "Sure, Mom," Nora agreed, "No problem." Sharon swept out. Nate grunted, "A pool, huh? This place is the Ritz; you're gonna start thinkin' I love you for your stuff..." "Well, that and the sex," Nora teased. "Yeah, that too," Nate agreed, grinning. "Let's go speed them up." He nodded at the wall. "Besides, I wanna be able to talk shit about Draper layin' pipe..." Nora giggled, "Like you don't?" Nate just grinned and stepped into his shorts. Nora threw on a light robe, remaining naked beneath, and led Nate next door. Silently, they worked the knob and let themselves in to watch the other couple at their morning calisthenics. Tenisha was kneeling upright over Draper's crotch, posting on his sizeable cock. She had her little litany down to an art form, the "Oh!" coming on the way up, and the "Baby!" punctuating the descent to a solid landing on Draper's pubic bone. Draper was mauling her pointed nipples as if he was tuning a radio, working and twisting the stiff nubs with both hands. Nate and Nora watched silently, standing there holding hands, out of Draper's sight and behind Tenisha, with a perfect view of Tenisha's ass riding up and down over the solid, purplish-black shaft impaling her pussy. Nate and Nora watched for a few moments, and Nora opened her mouth to speak when Tenisha came out with, "Oh shit! I'm gonna get another one!" "Then hang on, 'cause I'm gonna get MINE, too!" Draper rasped, and, grasping her hips, lifted her a bit and proceeded to double the speed of their coupling from below in an impressive feat of athleticism. Tenisha's eyes bugged, "OooooooOOOOOOOOOHHHHH! AAAAAUUUUGGGHHH!!!" She started to shake as her peak arrived, but there would be no more pounding, anyway; Draper arched himself into her and the observers watched his heavy balls jump and his shaft pulse as he poured seed into his narrow girlfriend. "Yeah, shit!" he grunted through clenched teeth. "Well, THAT looked good," Nora observed. "Huh?" Draper collapsed, and leaned up on his elbows to look around Tenisha while her head swiveled around, wide-eyed. "Yeh, I think so," Nate agreed, grinning. "I'd have to give that about an eight, anyway." "Jeezus!" Draper rasped, "An' I was worried 'bout your Daddy!" "Oh, we just came by to invite you to breakfast," Nora replied easily. "Look at it this way -- we COULD have knocked or something, and stopped you!" Draper looked thoughtful, and Tenisha muttered, "Yeah, THAT woulda sucked." "Anyway," Nora resumed, "I'm gonna call the kitchen and tell them we'll be there in about a half-hour, so we can all shower and stuff -- okay?" "Sure," Tenisha agreed. "By the way, you guys got any plans for the day?" Tenisha glanced at Draper, "No..." "I have a pool..." "No shit?" Draper said wistfully. "Shit, I got no suit." "No problem," Nora replied, "I bet we can scare up something. What about you, Tenisha?" "Well, I don't have a suit, either," Tenisha murmured, eyeing Nora and transmitting the fact that one of Nora's suits wouldn't fit without actually saying it, "And my Mama..." "Mom will call her and confirm your alibi -- she's already said she would!" Nora replied. "Besides, it's private -- we could probably skinny- dip, if we want... Let's talk about it at breakfast. You guys want anything special? Velma will probably want to stuff you with waffles or something..." "Waffles?" Draper waxed enthusiastic. "I LOVE waffles! And bacon!" "I been eating like a pig since I been here," Nate laughed. "I'm gonna need new clothes!" Everybody laughed, and Nora hugged her narrow lover to her possessively. "Any other requests?" she asked. Tenisha shrugged. "I can't eat like a horse -- it'll ruin my figure..." Nate snorted, "Stick figure!" "Nate!" Tenisha's squeal of outrage was drowned out in everyone else's laughter. "We're gonna go get ready, now," Nora said, pulling Nate toward the door. "Besides," she observed, "You're dripping on the sheets..." Her expression was smug as she pulled the door shut. Nora let Nate have the shower first while she called in the breakfast order. Velma, on the other end of the line, recommended, "Y'all oughta eat in da dinin' room, Missy. Yoah guests shouldn't be havin' ta hang out wit' da servant folk..." "That's fine, Velma. We'll do that. Is Bianca around? We were thinking about trying out the pool, afterwards, and she could show us the ropes..." "Ah'll ask." Velma turned to Inez, "Is Bianca around, Honey? Missy Nora says her an' her guests might hang out by da pool after breakfast, an' she could be with folk 'round her age..." "Good idea," Sharon piped up. She'd arrived a few minutes before, and was sipping coffee while her French toast was being prepared. "In fact, I suggested it. Charles, do you think you could furnish a lifeguard? Pete, perhaps?" Inez blinked. Pete might be an unfortunate choice in lifeguards, given Bianca's crush, but he was the obvious one, and better than Phillippe. "I will speak to her." She left the kitchen. "I think so -- I'll check with Boris." The big Georgian and Ed had gone in the interim. "That would be good," Sharon replied. "Look, both couples are having sex, so there is no requirement for him to chaperone -- just hang out to keep people from staying on the bottom of the pool, okay?" Charles nodded. "I can't imagine why not." "Inez is gonna go check, Missy," Velma passed to Nora. "We should know by the time y'all are ready." "Thanks, Velma." Nora hung up and slid into the shower behind a soapy Nate. "Want me to wash your hair?" "It's your funeral," Nate replied -- but it turned out she was good at it. ------- Breakfast was a major gathering. Velma turned out huge quantities of food for the four teens, Sharon, and Bianca, who had been encouraged to appear at the main table instead of in the kitchen. Inez and Leticia served -- and everyone got an eyeful of Leticia's bikini and tail. "What's with the tail?" Draper asked, when Leticia had left the room on a service run. "Leticia exceeded her position," Sharon said with fake aplomb. "Armand -- Nora's father -- isn't a normal employer, as I am sure you've noticed. He employs some non-traditional methods of control -- something, by the way, that the individuals involved have all agreed to. Actually, she disparaged Nora's choices in friends and lovers, something that Armand -- and I -- felt was none of her business." She swept a significant glance over the group. "According to Armand, she does this periodically, and when she does, a stern response is required. This is... only part of it. You should all feel free to... ask a bit extra of her today, should the opportunity present itself. You are, after all, the injured parties." "Ummm," was all Draper could get out. "Mom," Nora pressed the point, because it wasn't clear yet, "I'm not sure we understand why she would have a horse tail attached to her bathing suit." "It's not attached to her suit, Dear," Sharon replied, eyeing her coffee as if she were reading her fortune from it, "It's attached to Leticia. Inserted, in fact. You could say that since she decided to act like a horse's ass, we decided she should look like one..." Nate coughed and rubbed his face to keep from laughing. Tenisha tittered. Even Bianca snorted. Draper gasped, "Ya mean it's stuck up..." Sharon nodded. Leticia chose that moment to return with coffee and juice carafes, and was immediately uncomfortably aware that she was the subject of conversation. "Leticia, there's quite a bit of interest in your tail -- perhaps you should drop your bottoms and show it off?" "Oh, no, Mistress! Please!" Leticia's eyes rolled. How humiliating! "Well, it's up to them," Sharon observed, "but no one deserves to see you humiliated more..." She eyed the two couples. There was a moment of silence before Tenisha asserted quietly, "That's all right. We don't have to see, do we, Draper?" "I guess not." Obviously, Draper was 'doing the right thing' -- you could tell by his expression. Nora took it up, "I guess we'll pass. There's no requirement that she get naked." "... Unless I set one," came a voice from the doorway. Leticia looked up, her momentary relief at being reprieved laid waste. "Bring me a refill, Leticia," Armand added, holding out his cup. "Yes, Sir." Head down, Leticia moved to refill Armand's cup. When she was done, Armand stalked around to the head of the table and sat. "While actual nudity might be unnecessary, I think it would be more aesthetically pleasing," he remarked. "Nonetheless, the women have spoken. On the other hand, I think it was more an expression of sexual solidarity than anything else -- I detected reluctance in Draper, and Nate has yet to be heard from." Nate looked thoughtful, but said nothing, and Armand nodded. "I propose a compromise: Leticia keeps her bottoms, but she is to allow a thorough examination through them. Clear an area, there, Leticia, between Nate and Nora, and bend over the table." Nora grimaced, but Nate merely shrugged and moved a syrup pitcher to his left, out of the way, leaving space for Leticia to brace her elbows on the table top between them. "After all," Armand added, "you two are the targets of Leticia's peculiar racism. You see, my Dear," he addressed Nora, "Leticia feels that you are unduly abasing yourself, and that young Nate is unworthy of your attentions..." The comment freed Nate of any lingering inhibitions. "That true?" he asked Leticia, making a point of opening the slit in her bikini bottoms and peering inside. Nora made a sidelong examination of her own. "Yes, Sir." Leticia was all contrition. "Leticia," Armand added breezily, "feels that the best way for her to improve the gene pool is to throw children by a white man. As you can imagine, she felt that Nora is introducing pollutants..." He smiled, but it wasn't pleasant. "Sharon and I tend to agree with Nora; Nate has several admirable qualities, including loyalty and self-reliance..." Armand gestured to indicate that Nate was to do as he pleased and he did so, gathering up the horsehair at the base of the fake tail at the point just above the rubber plug and tugging it gently. "Stuck, it looks like." Armand nodded. "It's a standard conical plug with a narrow neck that the sphincter contracts around, holding it in. I can show you one, at some point; obviously, I have several lying around..." "Yeh." Nate gave another tug. "That hurt?" he asked. "It's... uncomfortable, Sir." Leticia was all respect. "I bet." He queried Nora with a glance, but she waved him off -- she didn't want to touch it. Nate glanced across the table at Draper and Tenisha, who traded a look. Tenisha lost the contest; Draper's expression firmed and he got up to come around, and Tenisha, looking unhappy, followed. Draper bent over to make the exam, "Damn!" Looking up, he addressed Armand, "You do this kinda thing alla time?" Armand shrugged. "Regularly. With the victim's full permission. Isn't that true, Leticia?" "Yes, sir." "Damn." Draper wiggled the assembly, having taken over Nate's grip. "I still think it would look better without the bikini bottoms," Armand opined. "More natural..." "Quit teasing her, Daddy!" Nora snapped. "Either tell her to take them off, or don't!" Armand shrugged, "I left that decision to you..." A wave took in the four of them, but his eyes were on the males. After a moment's emphasis, his eyes drifted to Nora's, challenging her. Nora knew where this was headed. "Nate, Honey -- it's your call." Nate didn't hesitate. "Shuck 'em," he grunted, then added, "An' I need some butter. Go get it, willya?" He pretended total indifference while Leticia carefully removed the bikini bottoms so as not to disrupt the tail too much -- but he watched her leave, eyeing the tail as it swayed gently to the flow of Leticia's ass cheeks as she walked. "Your Daddy's right," he observed. "Well, maybe," she agreed. "In any case, what you do about her is up to you." Nate noted the careful tone, as did Draper, who went back to his seat at the table; best not to get any further into this thing. Nate might think he had some control over Nora, but he KNEW better than to think he had similar control over Tenisha, and he'd just pushed things pretty hard. Breakfast resumed, everyone pretending that servants with tails delivered their food every day. Nate, left to himself, might have made the woman drop her bikini top, too, but there was such a thing as inviting trouble, and pissing Nora off just didn't make sense. Nope, moderation was the thing... He accepted butter from Leticia on her return with the barest of nods and went on with his meal. "We're going swimming after breakfast," Nora bubbled at Bianca, "but I've never used the pool. Do you think you could join us? Show us the ropes?" Prepared, Bianca nodded, "Sure." "We don't have suits," Tenisha interjected thoughtfully, "At least I don't." Armand was blasé about it. "We probably have something kicking around. Leticia, ask Consuelo to take Tenisha here to the guest suite and see what they can find there." Turning to Tenisha, he added, "I've had any number of guests here, and we have a few things stored away for such an emergency. I'm sure you'll find something, although, frankly, it's private out there -- you needn't wear anything if you don't want to. Nude swimming is something done here all the time..." "I told her that," Nora observed. Leticia nodded at Armand and bustled out. Armand got up with his coffee and muttered, "I'll be in my study," and walked out. Things got more casual instantly. "I still need to call my Mama," Tenisha announced. Sharon nodded. "Certainly. And you need a solid alibi for last night, too, I understand? We can call after breakfast." Tenisha looked relieved. ------- In his study, Armand had Jason punch through to Witherspoon. "What have you got?" "Well, certainly Rodday isn't happy -- Flood was a senior lieutenant, and he's seriously damaged. On the other hand, I'm not seeing anything major in the way of increases in security. The goons he has on site aren't impressive." "The team he sent out last night weren't, either, apparently," Armand observed. "By the way, why was Tabitha out in the first place?" "I gathered that there were at least two reasons," Witherspoon replied. "One was to see if she WAS, indeed, a lightning rod, and the other was to obtain a certain amount of privacy in which to test the status of her recovery. She managed to coerce my senior investigator on site into assisting with both tests." "And how difficult was that?" Armand chuckled. "Surprisingly difficult, I'm told," Witherspoon replied, unruffled. "He apparently considered the whole idea somewhat inexplicable, and inappropriate to their professional relationship -- but she was apparently both determined and insistent..." "I see..." Armand didn't, really, but it didn't matter. "I would like to see Tabitha and her bodyguard at lunch, then. It's time to plan how we're going to bring Rodday to heel. You should be here, too -- or send a principal with the latest data." "I'll probably send Scott," Witherspoon replied. "Matheson is fully capable of running this exercise, but Scott is also highly reliable and has the latest surveillance." "Fine. Get word to Matheson that I'd like to see Tabitha here for lunch around noon." "Will do, Sir." Witherspoon hung up. "I still have no bright ideas regarding just how we're going to bring Rodday to heel," Armand grunted. Jason shook his head. "We've embarrassed him, met with him, interfered with his thugs twice... We may need to get personal." "You may be right," Armand agreed. ------- A telephone call that included a frank discussion of Tenisha and Draper's relationship and an invitation to visit the mansion allayed any remaining fears in Bess Porter and set up a lazy morning in the media room for the younger set. Bianca was made welcome, the difference in her age notwithstanding, and she drifted in and out freely while the two couples lazed around watching television. Leticia, not to be let off the hook, was the servant in attendance, tail and all -- which kept the scene from being too thoroughly domestic. It turned out that swimsuits weren't to be an obstacle, after all; Consuelo, who had a better idea of guest wardrobe locations, led Tenisha to the pool house, locating a reasonably passable bikini (the top was a bit loose over Tenisha's tiny titties) in short order, pointing out some male outfits to her in passing for Nate and Draper. Tenisha picked up a Speedo, eyeing it speculatively, and Consuelo laughed, "If you don't want everyone seeing your man's cojones, Miss, you'd better avoid THAT!" Tenisha grinned, "I might want to show him off..." Consuelo shrugged and offered a knowing glance; if Miss Nora's friend wanted her hunky boyfriend displayed, she'd look. On the other hand, perhaps a warning was in order... "Miss, this isn't a normal house. At least one of the female servants has servicing guests sexually on her list of duties..." "Yeah." Tenisha thought about it. "The Wench, right?" She was something, too -- looked like a model or something. "Well, Draper knows better." "With respect, Miss, men aren't that good at saying 'no'. It's not the way they're made. Saying no is OUR department. On the other hand, if a girl insists, well, men don't really know how to handle that..." "You gotta point..." Tenisha laughed. "It's what their little head is telling them to do anyway," Consuelo smirked. "At that point, it's two against one..." Tenisha was laughing as Consuelo left her at the media room door. "All set?" Nora asked, glancing up from the TV. "All set." Tenisha agreed. ------- "Piotr," Boris announced, sticking his head in the door of Pete's room, "the plan for the day has changed." "Oh?" Pete looked up from Saturday morning television -- something he habitually watched while consuming his Friday night hangover cure of V-8 and several other ingredients. Breakfast wasn't Pete's meal on a good day; he usually couldn't look at food before nine a.m. Velma would lay him out a healthy snack at about ten, which would get him to lunch, after which things would pretty much stabilize. Saturdays, well, he tended to party on Friday nights... The upshot of this was that he'd missed certain antics at breakfast. Boris proceeded to fill him in, "Da. The young Miss has several houseguests, and they want to use the pool. The back hedges will wait until tomorrow; I have been asked to supply you for lifeguard duty." Pete rolled his eyes. "Thrills, chills, and spills..." Boris grinned. "It should not be so bad. There are just two couples -- the young Miss and her lover, and another couple the same age. They are all... romantic?" "Romantically involved?" Pete supplied. "They're sleeping together?" "Da. Romantically involved. You are not a chaperone. As Charles put it, your job is to ensure that no one stays on the bottom of the pool." Pete shrugged. Chaperoning might have been better; now he'd probably have to watch them neck... Boris scratched his grizzled chest and rumbled reflectively, "There are some... compensations?" "Oh?" Pete knew enough to be suspicious. "Da. Little Bianca will be playing hostess." Boris grinned at Pete's expression as he took THAT in. "And Leticia will be seeing to their needs." That threw Pete. "So?" "Leticia made some comments about the young Miss and her friends that angered the Boss and... Sharon." Boris hadn't come up with a standard form of referral for the new mistress of the household. "She's being punished by having to serve them while dressed... oddly." Boris's smirk told Pete that this would no doubt be a sight to see. "You will get -- how you say? -- an eye full." Pete blinked. Well, things were weird around here, off and on -- it was all part of the fun. "Okay. Any idea when?" "No. Put on your suit, and wait here on call, I think. I will tell Leticia to let you know." Boris disappeared down the hall, leaving Pete to wonder when Boris had reached the point of being able to tell Leticia ANYTHING. That skinny bitch was pretty stuck up, and Boris wasn't in her chain of command... Shrugging, he went digging for his swim trunks. ------- Paul Matheson's cell phone burped and he went digging for it on the night table, moving gingerly to preserve the unaccustomed sound of snoring coming from the other side of his bed. Easing the bathroom door closed behind him, he announced himself, "Matheson." It was Scott. "Mr. Wilson wants to see you and your girlfriend for lunch at noon," he needled Paul. "My what?" "Mistress?" "Awright, cut it out!" Paul suffered Scott's fit of laughter. "What for?" "I think they're going to talk over what to do next about Rodday," Scott replied. "I'll be there with the surveillance reports." "And the plan?" "Not formulated yet, I gather. They'll be looking for input from both of you. That's what the Boss says," Scott replied. "Great." Paul rolled his eyes. "Okay, we'll be there. I don't THINK we're going to need a support team, but we're still both holding trackers." "Davis and Chase replaced Christensen and Allenby across the street at eight a.m.," Scott replied. "We weren't about to take any chances that Rodday's people were any better than they appeared." He paused, then, "Anything you want to tell me before their report goes through the office like Grant through Richmond? How was she?" "Jeezus!" Paul rubbed his face. The whole world would know by ten o'clock. "Well, let's just say that practice makes perfect. Since she was into it and not trying to get me off in record time -- something unusual, for her, I gather -- it was pretty damned incredible, actually. Best I've had in a loooooong time, if ever!" You could hear Scott's grin over the phone. "Kinda surprising, since she don't look like much." Paul shrugged. "She's well worn -- but apparently that means broken in. She certainly has better control over her various parts than any woman I ever slept with! That thing LOOKS like it's seen a million cocks, but it FEELS like you're the first! Well, maybe the second..." Scott chuckled. "Maybe I'll take her up on her offer for a run-in." Paul laughed. "Better put her in your budget, because after the freebie, you'll be addicted!" Scott snorted, then moved on, "See you at the Wilson place about eleven-forty five." "Right." Tabitha had stopped snoring. As Paul approached the bed, she opened one eye, "We got trouble?" "Depends on what you call trouble," Paul answered blithely. "Mr. Wilson wants to have us for lunch. Just to visit -- not to eat." "We hope," Tabitha chuckled. "Is it jus' ta be sociable?" "I think it's to figure out the best way to rap Rodday's knuckles." "Huh! THAT'S gonna be fun..." She patted the bed. "Well, we got a while. C'mere an' snuggle up." Paul shrugged and climbed into bed beside her. "I s'pose we're s'posed ta have ideas?" "Probably." Paul absorbed the feel of her hand wrapping itself around his already half-hard cock. "Got any?" "Not so's you'd notice. Mmmmm." Paul had palmed her right 'fun bag' and was gently toying with her pierced nipple. "Never thought I'd say this, but that hurts SOOO good! Makes me wet. Y'all think ya can go again?" It had been -- what -- four, five hours? But Paul was rock hard, already... "Looks like it." "Damn sure feels like it, too! You got a coupla gallons stored up? You gonna kill us both!" Tabitha chuckled. She spread her narrow thighs, dragging him over her by her grip on his erection, rubbed it up and down her slit to open it up, and plugged him in with practiced motions. "You do that like a pro," Paul observed, grimacing at the faux pas. "Plenty 'o practice," Tabitha grunted, ignoring the gaffe. "I ain't practiced at enjoyin' the whole thing, though -- that's new! Y'all take your time, so's I can git me another one. An' if ya can, keep up the nipple work..." "Let's see..." Paul dropped low, putting his elbows on the bed, which got his hands into position to tweak her nipples. He'd have never been able to do it with a more substantial woman, and even now there was the issue of moving to get in a stroke. "I don't think this is gonna work." "Mebbe I can drive." Tabitha managed to wrap one leg behind Paul's knees and one over his lower back; by tightening them both, she could bury him. Relaxation and gravity handled the out-stroke. "Yeh. This'll work." She impaled herself a few times. "Yeah, I'm likin' this! Okay fo' you?" With another woman, the lack of control might've sucked, but Tabitha's pussy was college educated at Whore U -- everything was fine. "I'm good. I'm probably gonna be all show and no go, anyway," Paul assured her. "I bet not, but we're gonna play by the new rules, so I'm gettin' mine first, okay?" "Sure." It felt great, anyway. "Watch Mama work," Tabitha gasped. "Maul the left a little harder, willya? MY left..." "Oh..." Paul twisted the nipple in his right hand, laying off the one in his left. "Ummm, yeah..." Tabitha found that if she relaxed the tension on the leg draped over the small of Paul's back, she rode lower and got more clit action -- but he didn't get as much penetration, either, and there was a possibility that she'd back off too far and he'd pop out. It took some tuning, but she worked out this every other stroke thing where she went low and shallow, then high and deep. This kind of fuckin' was WORK, though -- it was like doing sit-ups, or something! Usually, all she had to do was wiggle it a bit and work her pussy, and pop! It was all over! On the other hand, she had a LOT of control, and she rode Paul's cock against ALL of her itchy spots... The nipple work was icing on the cake; soon, her ears were roaring and her legs were jumping, threatening to interfere with her final approach to a BIG one -- but that didn't happen, and clit friction set of the bomb: "WAAAAAA! Holy shit, Baby! Damn!" Tabitha started bashing herself against her husky partner to beat the band as the big one dragged her in, "Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh, fuuuuuck!" She crashed back to the mattress, gasping, "Whew!" Panting, she got out, "Gimme a minute, Lover, an' I'll see you get yours... Leave off the nips an' stroke fer a bit." Paul let go and raised himself onto his hands to take over the active part of the act, and murmured, "Don't worry about me -- I'm probably two weeks ahead of schedule," -- but it didn't keep him from stroking. Tabitha recognized the demurral for what it was. "Shut up, Baby. You pleased Mama, an' now Mama is gonna please YOU! If y'all run outta spunk, it'll be somethin' for ya to remember when you're all clogged up again, won't it?" With that, she put her pussy to work again. Now, it had NEVER been BAD, exactly. In fact, it remained Number One in Paul's experience all through the act, and the pulses she gave off at orgasm had been something -- but Paul was into thirds, and while he felt like he could stroke all day and get pleasure from it, he didn't REALLY see a third shot coming. Tabitha changed all that. She put her twat to work, and suddenly, there was a rolling pulsation to her clasp that made every stroke just a bit different -- not a lot, that might have been too distracting. No, this changed things just a bit, taking the flange of his glans at a different point of every stroke and providing all of the variety that he needed to feel like he was being caressed EVERYWHERE without Paul having to make any adjustments of his own. Paul gave in to the imperative to speed up, then to pound as the urgency rose and rose in him. Tabitha suddenly wailed, "Shit, you're gonna get me again!" and wrapped her legs around him, bucking against him -- and Paul was over the peak, not fighting to get there, but rather fighting to hold back! That only lasted three strokes before he lost control and began spurting into Tabitha's clasping tunnel. He looked up to chide Tabitha about treating him like a john -- acting all worked up so he would get off -- but he got a shock; Tabitha's eyes had rolled up and he could see every tendon in her neck as she fought to get hers. Paul kicked it back into gear and Tabitha let out a series of strained grunts before collapsing, exhausted. Paul let up. All in all, he was amazed: First, he'd managed to get another shot off -- and second, Tabitha had OBVIOUSLY had a helluva time! Okay, maybe she was a consummate actor, but... She wasn't. Looking up at him, she gasped, "Damn, Baby, how do you DO that? I jus' don't get 'em like that!" Paul shrugged. "Nothing magical about me..." He rolled off and crashed beside her while they both thought about it. Sex had been good before Nate's daddy had got Tabitha in trouble -- but it brought painful reminders of her stupidity afterward. Welfare sucked -- and it didn't pay for dope, which she'd gotten more and more into after love went out the window. She got broke and hard up for something to take the edge off and gone begging to her connection, Weasel Bronson -- and he'd offered to dole out a little if she gave him a piece. Next thing she knew, he'd handed her off to ol' Myra Westlake, who taught her the tricks of the trade -- but it was already dead; she'd gotten nothing out of her couple of run-ins with the Weasel except gooey between the legs. Things went up and down while she tried this and that and finally learned to control her habit somewhat, but sex was just mildly pleasant when she had a buzz on and a reasonably simple way to pay the bills when she didn't. This last night had been a real surprise! Paul, who claimed to be nothing much (and probably wasn't, Tabitha admitted, given her vast experience), had managed to scratch her itch -- what? -- three, four times? What the fuck? What was so different? Well, her moneymaker hadn't been busy since that bastard in the mask tore it up, but so what? Hell, it was a little sore! Was it the fact that she was tryin' to have fun? Her hand stole down to her clit and she gave it an experimental rub. Usually, if she got tense, she'd rub herself off -- and it'd take a while -- fifteen or twenty minutes if she had peace and quiet and no major worries about being busted in on. This morning, five minutes off a good-sized cum, it was -- twitchy! Damned thing was SENSITIVE! She glanced over at Paul; dammit, he was watching! Shit! She caught his eye, embarrassed. "Something wrong?" he asked. "Damned thing's lit up like a Christmas tree, an' I got more nuts than I've had in years overnight -- an' one five minutes ago! Don' make sense..." She mused a moment. "Look, I wanna try an esper'ment; can you, umm, diddle me an' keep an eye out how long it takes?" "Sure." Paul reached down and took over, running a finger along her gash and over her clit hood. "How's that?" "Good. Nice. Kinda circle on it, willya? An' get a time -- you've started..." Tabitha moved a bit, her breath catching. "How long should it take?" "Forever, I figger," Tabitha grunted. "If I do it, it oughta take twenty minutes; somebody else, who don't know what's good and what ain't, oughta never get me there..." But she was already breathing hard, and Paul could feel her clitoris growing larger and harder as blood suffused it. "Shit!" "What?" Paul almost stopped. "I ain't gonna last no twenty minutes..." She had a handful of sheet and her hips were tensing. "I figger maybe five..." "Let's party, then." Paul concentrated on his finger work. Over the next couple of minutes, Tabitha became more and more agitated, gasping and cursing and moving everything but her crotch, which she was obviously holding in place to make it easy for him. "Want anything else?" "Mebbe y'all could kiss me or sumpthin'..." "Wouldn't that ruin the experiment?" Paul teased. "Oh, shut up and..." Suddenly, there was a hand cupping the back of his head, and there was no fighting it. Tabitha's lips opened and he slid his tongue between them -- and immediately another sinewy arm pinned his to Tabitha's torso while she bucked and squealed into his mouth. In a moment, she released him and collapsed, panting. "Shit! How long?" "About six minutes." "Damn!" So what was it? Paul? Nah. Being tenderized by her attacker? She doubted it. So what else? "Don' make sense. All of a sudden I'm hot to trot?" "Well, you're feeling things more intensely," Paul offered. "Usually, you're on something, to pad the sharp edges; now you're not. It works both ways, you know." "What?" "Dope," Paul replied. "It keeps things from being too awful -- but it also keeps things from getting really good! Dulls the senses..." "Oh." Tabitha reflected a moment, scratching her ribs. "I dunno. It was kinda broke already when I started doin' dope..." "When was that?" "Seriously? 'Round the time I got pregnant wit' Nate." Paul shrugged. "Could have been pregnancy. Sex is in the head, though. Who was Nate's daddy?" Tabitha shrugged. "Some shit-talker. I don' remember any more. Don't matter -- he hit the bricks as soon as I come up pregnant." Paul nodded. "You don't WANT to remember. You were probably pretty unhappy at the time, and sex and romance were what got you into trouble. That probably spoiled the mood for you for some time. Next, you were proving that you could do sex without being emotionally involved -- and dope only made it easier." "Mebbe." Tabitha squinted at the ceiling. "I was hot to trot in High School -- Nate's daddy wasn't my first dick, by a long shot. I got stupid an' sloppy an' fucked up..." "... And that put a damper on things," Paul posited. "A LOT o' things!" Tabitha agreed. "Well, it's old news by now," Paul pointed out, "and you're working on feeling, instead of NOT feeling. All in all, it kind of makes sense." "So it's good again." Tabitha frowned. "DAT could be a problem!" Paul shrugged. "I can't advise you on the issues of the world's oldest profession, but I know that I enjoy sex a lot more if my partner does..." Tabitha shrugged. "High end shit can afford that -- but when you're goin' for volume, ya cain't lay in bed tellin' him how hot he is; it's a waste of valuable time!" "So, being a class act is attitude?" Tabitha waved deprecatingly at her narrow form, "I ain't NEVER gonna be a class act, startin' THIS late. Things are pretty tore up." Paul shrugged. "I dunno. You just TOLD me it's all attitude. I know that I've just finished the finest night of sex I've EVER had. Looks can be deceiving, and word of mouth..." "... Will get me arrested again," Tabitha chuckled. "Mebbe I'll jus' move in with you an' live in sin." "You'd kill me," Paul grinned. "But I'd die happy." Tabitha chuckled. "That's a fair crack at a compliment -- for comin' in the back door! Le's get a shower." Paul nodded and watched the narrow black woman pad un-self- consciously toward the bathroom, her ass-cheeks managing to produce a saggy jiggle. Well, it had been great -- stupendous -- but it was over... ------- Chapter 45B: Morning Sex and Camel Fights Darla Jean and Randall were pretty subdued as they departed Mary's place in Randall's car. It had been a long, busy, strange night. Both of them would probably be facing some amount of questioning from their parents, and both of them were preparing their defenses for those encounters, but first there were some other issues to be dealt with. "So, umm, wild night," Darla Jean kicked it off. "Yeah, pretty surprising." Randall appeared to be concentrating on his driving. "Good surprising, or bad surprising?" Darla Jean queried. Had she run Randall off? That would suck -- he was, well, pretty incredible... "Good, I guess," Randall replied. "At the start, I figured I'd just maybe get a chance to apologize, and that would be it. Everything else..." Darla Jean pushed her hair back out of her face. "Well, I wasn't thrilled with the whole conspiracy thing, but I wasn't REALLY unhappy with the results." "I learned that," Randall mused. "Then everything got crazy..." Darla Jean nodded. Everything had. First, there had been the pool party -- a wild scene if there ever was one -- then that crazy blowjob experiment... Finally, something that just missed an orgy, largely by virtue of the fact that each group (Teddy, Mary, and Stick weren't a couple, after all... ) stuck to their own partners... Question was, where did that leave THEM? "Too crazy?" "Um. Well..." Certainly, things had gone a great distance beyond anything Randall had envisioned, on a number of fronts. If his Dad learned that he'd sucked a cock... Randall shuddered, something Darla Jean detected and took no comfort from. "Do you see that kind of thing as 'normal'?" "Huh! Not even!" Darla Jean exclaimed. "Who knows when we'll do something like THAT again?" Last night had gone some distance beyond anything she had conceived of previously... "Well, it might leave a taste for such things..." Randall said guardedly. Darla Jean flinched. "There wasn't much more that could have happened..." But there was, and both knew it. It could have been Darla Jean in the daisy-chain between Teddy and Stick, for instance. Both of them saw flashes of different combinations of themselves and the other three -- the kinds of things that a real orgy would have produced. Randall gave voice to the though, "Oh, I dunno. There were a bunch of things..." "Yeah." Darla Jean gathered herself. "What if... ?" Randall grimaced. "Well, we got that far, but..." "Are we still okay?" Was their agreement at the pool still in force? Or had things gone too far? Randall frowned into the windshield. "I think so. I'm okay if you are..." Was he wild enough? She'd encouraged it -- but what about all that queer-bait stuff? "I'm good." Darla Jean paused a moment. "If I'd..." Randall scratched his head. "I dunno. I just dunno." "Well, we talked about others..." "Yeah," Randall nodded. "We did. But last night would have been too soon -- 'way too soon. I'm not... comfortable... yet. As it was, we pushed the edge of the envelope pretty far, don't you think?" Darla Jean relaxed. "Yeah, we did. REAL far! I think you're right -- we should concentrate on each other for a bit and get grounded. I don't figure we'll see a night like last night any too often... Want to meet Mom?" Randall thought about it as he pulled up to the curb. "Think that's smart?" "Probably not," Darla Jean sighed. "Not at the moment. Give me some time to prepare her a bit. You'll need to work on your folks, too, if I'm gonna get seen over there..." "Yeah, that'll be interesting," Randall agreed. "Let's not mention the blowjob experiment, huh?" "Good plan." Darla Jean leaned over and kissed him quickly, and was gone before he could recover. "Bye!" she waved over her shoulder. Randall waved back, then put the car in gear. ------- It was nearly eleven before everyone got motivated and pointed at the swimming pool; first, the couples had to go back to their rooms and change, and almost no one was thrilled with the idea of wearing some swimsuit someone else had previously worn under God knew what conditions. Oddly, the males complained the loudest, Nate worrying about crabs and Draper mumbling about color. Bianca met them at their rooms and led them out back, past the sauna and the sunroom where two hot tubs sat burbling under protective covers, and on out onto the deck, which fronted a sizeable swimming pool. The pool was half-surrounded by the house, two wings extending along half of the length; the other half was made private by a sizeable hedge a few yards beyond the far edge that merged into the fencing surrounding the rest of the formal back yard. Invisible behind the hedges was a substantial wall -- but no one present except Bianca realized that. "Eh, pretty nice!" Nate commented. Draper nodded and Tenisha murmured agreement as they wandered along the edge, exploring. "I swim here a lot in the summer," Bianca offered. "It's very nice, especially in the afternoon." "How deep is the deep end?" Draper asked, covering a bit of agitation. Draper was a poor swimmer. "Deep enough for diving," Bianca replied, missing the concern, "but it comes back up to five feet very quickly -- see the red line? Although for me, five feet is deep..." At five foot three, Bianca was easily the shortest of the group. Draper nodded, and Nate, who knew that his friend wasn't that comfortable around water, moved on, "So what do ya do out here, 'sides swim?" Bianca colored a bit. "Well, sunbathe. It's usually just me..." Now that Miss Nora was going to be around periodically, maybe things wouldn't be so boring. Leticia arrived, leading a somewhat bemused Pete. The tail thing was pretty wild, and looked good swishing along her dark chocolate legs as she walked. Leticia had been a whole lot less snooty than normal when she came to get him too; maybe she should wear the tail all the time... Looking up, he took in his charges. Miss Nora was there in a blue and white bikini that wasn't really able to hide her odd proportions -- still, there were a lot of good parts on display, and if you were an ass man, she was a dream. The black girl was pretty thin, but she had a nice, round ass. The top of her light magenta bikini was obviously loose, but there were serious points poking out the cups. Pete had seen worse. Bianca was a vision, as usual. Shorter than the other girls, her curves nonetheless had both of them outclassed, largely because her proportions were closer to the norm than Nora's. The red-trimmed white bikini she wore managed to look less demure than it actually was. Pete reflected that they would all look good in wet T-shirts -- even Tenisha, with those nipples... The guys were, well, guys. Nate, Pete had seen before, but not in this state of undress. Thin and hard, showing ribs above his six-pack, he looked like you could ram him right through a sheet of plywood and not hurt him. The other teen was a good deal huskier, sporting a lot of smooth muscles -- not someone you wanted to pick a fight with. "Hi, I'm Pete," he introduced himself. He was greeted by wary nods among the blacks and a quiet, "Hi, Pete," from Nora. Clearly, they weren't absolutely certain of his purpose. "You guys go on with whatever you were up to," he said nonchalantly, "I'm just here to see to it that nobody stays on the bottom of the pool too long and clogs up the filter." He turned and took up a lounger, and the younger set relaxed visibly. "So you're not like a chaperone," Nate asked guardedly. "Nope. I hear you guys are all couples and have already had advanced anatomy, so I don't have to be your moral guardian," Pete replied airily. "You all can do as you like, all right?" "Yeh." Nate nodded and turned his attention to Nora, "Let's go swimmin', then." It took a few minutes, but soon everyone was splashing around and playing grab-ass -- except Bianca, who was dangling her legs in the water on the deep end. None of the others had a whole lot of pool time, so serious swimming was out. Leticia stood by, trying to look impassive; Pete watched her try to settle herself in a settee, grimace, and get back up -- apparently, the tail wasn't any too comfortable to sit on. Mostly, Pete tried to scope Bianca without getting caught at it -- something difficult, since Bianca was trying to do the same thing. The little fox's eyes always seemed to be there -- never locking on him directly, just taking him in as background -- or pretending to... Leticia might have caught the pair, but she was too busy wallowing in embarrassment and humiliation. Miss Nora's beau, Nate, made a point of eyeing her every few minutes, boldly, somewhat angrily, keeping the heat turned up. What Leticia DIDN'T know was that it was all a put-on -- Nate wasn't that wildly angry. More than anything else, he felt sorry for the woman, but this was a prime opportunity to rake an older woman over the coals, and he couldn't pass it up! "Was she really that bad?" Nora whispered in an aside. "Nah. I'm just pullin' her chain. It's good for her, I bet. Besides, I'm gettin' a kick out of it," Nate whispered back, favoring Leticia with another quick glare. "It's mean," Nora insisted. "Your Daddy'd do it," Nate replied. "If we don't punish her enough, he'll think of something else. I'm doin' her a favor." "Maybe," Nora agreed half-heartedly. "For sho'," Nate insisted. "Your Daddy'd get a kick out of me gettin' her pregnant -- except that it'd screw us up. He as much as said so!" Nora thought about it. "You're probably right," she granted. "Why does he get a kick out of such things, do you think?" Nate scratched his head. "Power. It's really personal -- an' really intense. I don't wanna be on the receiving end, that's for sure!" "Mmmm," Nora agreed. She turned another look on Leticia, and worked it into a glare. "Might as well help, I guess." "Hey, let's do somethin'!" Tenisha yelled across the pool. "Play a game!" "Marco Polo?" Nate rolled his eyes. "Ugh!" Draper grunted. "Naw, that's kid stuff!" Tenisha agreed. "Something else?" "Camel fights?" Nate suggested. "Only two couples?" Draper shot it down. "Maybe not..." Nora interjected. "Hey Bianca! Wanna do camel fights?" Bianca blinked. "Camel fights?" "Yeah," Tenisha explained. "You get up on somebody's shoulders and wrestle, trying to throw the other team off-balance!" Bianca thought about it. "I don't have a..." "I bet Pete would carry you!" Nora interjected. All eyes swung to Pete. "Uhhh..." Fuck, yes, he'd carry her! But was that smart? Best act reluctant. "Well, I could, I guess... If she wants me to..." "Sure." Bianca worked hard at not showing any wild excitement -- but it WAS difficult! "Okay," Pete took charge. "Three teams, then. Do we want to swap around?" "Nah," Nate argued, something that brought relief to both of the new combatants, "Le's stick with what we got." "Okay. Keep it in the center of the pool -- we don't want anybody cracking their head on the edge!" Pete admonished. If you back off to the edges, you're out of it -- but you lose, too!" He hadn't done this kind of thing in a while; it should be a kick! And carrying Bianca... "Yeh." "Sounds good!" The other two males were in full agreement. Nate added, "Awright, then -- let's mount up!" The girls were busy giggling. There was a concerted rush for the edges, and everyone got organized. Early on, it was clear that there were some mismatches. Climbing atop Nate's narrow shoulders accentuated Nora's oversize fundament, but neither complained, Nate limiting himself to, "Let's work from deeper..." That would make Nora easier to carry and, more important, balance. Nate was fully capable of carrying her, but they'd need every advantage. Trying to haul Tenisha around with her seated atop Draper was going to be a project! "Hey! Can mounts help?" Nate hollered. "Yah." Draper agreed. Frankly, it was just another advantage for him... "Sure." Pete wasn't likely to argue, either. Bianca was gingerly working her legs over Pete's shoulders, hoping that he couldn't smell her excitement at settling her crotch against him. Fortunately, the chlorine masked quite a bit. But she was damp, thinking about Pete's beautiful cock... That cock was rampant, too; Pete was glad for the cover of the water, for he was sporting serious wood! He put a hand up on either thigh to steady her; it seemed like the junction pressed against his neck was running twenty degrees hotter! "Le's wander around a little bit -- get used to shit!" Nate suggested. Bianca was obviously unused to her seat -- and maybe sorta distracted... "Good idea," Pete returned. He pushed out into the center of the pool. Rubbing Bianca's left thigh, he said, "See if you can get used to being up there. The best thing is to try to keep yourself upright above me no matter what I do." He began leaning back and forth, forcing her to lean in the opposite direction. Bianca squealed and her eyes popped, but she compensated for his movements. Nate and Nora and Tenisha and Draper were running the same series of experiments. Leverage was limited for Nate, but he was damned if he'd complain. Draper had it easier, but Tenisha wasn't gifted for balance; she managed to overbalance and topple off of him without even coming into contact with another couple, to the laughter of the others. Pete looked up at Leticia and announced, "I think you'd better go get some towels, don't you?" What the snooty black woman was going to do about the suggestion was open to question... Well, not as far as Leticia was concerned -- not today, anyway. She nodded meekly and strode off. "Everbody ready?" Draper queried. Despite Tenisha's spill, Draper figured they'd have it easy. "Yeh, I guess," Nate agreed. Nora nodded solemnly. Pete patted Bianca's thigh, "Ready?" "Okay," came the meek response. "Then let's go get 'em!" Draper and Tenisha bore down on Nate, but true to plan, he kept himself and Nora in deep water. Nate and Nora's withdrawal kept Tenisha focused until Pete and Bianca could arrive, at which point Tenisha had to turn her entire attention to the off-side attack. Bianca's initial attack was tentative, but Tenisha's response was ferocious, so she rapidly got into the swing of things, grabbing for skinny arms, pulling and pushing. Pete swept them past, keeping Draper busy -- and allowing Nate and Nora to commence another attack! Tenisha, overbalanced from turning to engage Bianca and Pete as they drifted past on her right, fell screeching victim to a push delivered by Nora from her left and behind -- but an instinctive grab turned up part of Nora's bikini top and almost unseated HER, too! Everybody backed off while Tenisha came up, sputtering, her bikini top wedged under her armpits and both nipples showing. She started hauling at it, but caught Draper's grin, stopped and pulled it off, tossing it onto the pool deck. "One less thing for you two to grab onto!" she announced defiantly. Nora, who'd almost had her top jerked from her by that last grab, stopped trying to get her left breast seated, frowned eyeing Bianca for a moment, then deliberately reached back and undid her top, too. "You don't have to, but they're a liability," she told Bianca. Bianca thought about it -- furiously. Arguably, she was the most well-developed female present, and these boys had never seen her breasts. Pete might have -- she kind of hoped he had; there had been a couple of deliberate sunbathing exposures for that sole purpose... The other guys were in steady couples, though, and having Pete see her was a plus, so... Reaching up, she peeled her top over her head. Pete really, REALLY wanted to see the results of that move, but his position sucked for making THAT happen. Still, there ought to be some way... He swung them around so that they were facing the sunroom, and got an inadequate glimpse in the reflection from the glass -- but Tenisha was re-mounted, and Nate and Nora were bearing down on them, so he swung back to his right to allow Bianca an opportunity to take them more or less head on. The two of them went at it, Nora's size and age granting her an advantage that Pete worked on Nate in an attempt to undercut -- but he discovered that Nate was every bit as hard as he looked, his wiry frame resistant to Pete's efforts. Ultimately, however, Nate had to shift positions, and Nora, refusing to disengage, overbalanced -- but she maintained her grip on Bianca and ripped her from Pete's shoulders to fall into the water with her. Laughing, Pete asked, "Everyone okay?" but he wasn't looking around -- his eyes were glued to Bianca and her bobbing breasts! He collected responses by ear as he followed her to the pool edge and helped boost her out; Bianca made sure he got an excellent view while she rearranged herself and prepared to re-mount. Nora watched this procedure in some surprise; evidently, Bianca had no problem with having Pete get an eyeful. Of course, Pete was a hunk... On the other hand, Pete was older -- a LOT older than Bianca. Heck, he was a lot older than herself, Nora figured -- mid- to late- twenties, anyway -- it would be like her chasing a college senior, or maybe an assistant professor! For Bianca, well... She shrugged; surely it was out of the question... Pete looked up and discovered that Leticia had returned and was placing a stack of towels on a lounger. Looking at her, he got to thinking... Well, it worked before... "Leticia, you're overdressed! Nobody else has a top on..." Leticia looked blankly at Pete, then turned to pick up Nate's eyes. Normally, she'd have lit into Pete for the suggestion, but this wasn't normally -- and Nate's narrowed eyes told her what her response should be. In fact, Nora's arched eyebrow would have been enough in and of itself. Leticia reached back and undid her bikini top, revealing her small breasts. Nate nodded satisfaction and went back to what he was doing; if he didn't know any better, he'd think that all black chicks belonged to the itty bitty titty committee, he thought, smirking. Of course Draper preferred that kind of thing, so Tenisha watched him narrowly, but he had better sense than to make any obvious moves. The three couples reorganized and went at it again; this time, Nora took a spill first, and Tenisha and Bianca were in the final. Tenisha was tenacious, and eventually managed to upset the technically smaller Bianca, but it was a near thing; she ended the bout waving comically as she fought to retain her balance, and only a solid brace from Draper kept her from dunking herself again. Round three was heavy combat. Nora and Bianca double-teamed Tenisha, Nora using her tendency to follow too far to tip her over Draper's shoulders with a strategically applied push while she was attacking Bianca frontally. Then Nora and Nate closed on Bianca and Pete and the real fight began. Pete was a stable platform, and Bianca, although smaller, was every bit as voluptuous as Nora -- and she had the good sense to disengage when it looked like she was going to overbalance! Finally, Pete got a foot behind Nate's right knee and forced a collapse, and Nora hit the water. That put an end to things; the various couples made for the edges of the pool to sit and rest, dangling their feet in the water and laughing and bragging about their various engagements -- an activity cut short when Sharon stuck her head out the patio door and announced, "Nate, your mother's here!" ------- Chapter 46: Plans, Confrontations, and Bad Memories Precisely at noon, the phone rang at the McGrath home. Caitlin picked it up, as the bedside phone was at hand while she got ready for work. "Hello?" "Hello." There was a pause. "Is Erin there?" "Um, yeah. I'll get her." Caitlin carried the phone to Erin's room, where she was draped across her bed watching TV. "It's for you." "Who is it?" Erin asked suspiciously. She didn't feel like dealing with Mary or Louise -- especially if Toby wasn't going to call... "Well, I THINK it's that boy..." "Gimme that!" Erin snatched the phone from her mother's hand. "Hello?" "Erin?" "Yeah." "Hey, so, what's up?" "Nothing." Erin frowned and waved her mother away, but Caitlin stood there grinning. "You?" "Nothing much. Just goofing off." Actually, Toby had spent the past hour anxiously watching the clock. "Wanna do something?" "Sure. Whatcha got in mind?" Shit! Think, quick! We did a movie last night, so... "Ummmm, nothing much. We could go hang out at the mall or... I dunno... go skating..." Not that his current finances could handle much in the way of high living. Erin frowned; those options were 'way too public... "I dunno. Maybe we could just hang out here and watch the tube..." Huh! That was a LOT better -- and not just because it wouldn't cost anything! Best to play it cool... "Sure. What about your mom?" "She has to be at work in an hour." Erin grimaced; that wasn't the smartest thing to say with Mom standing right there... "After last night, I'd probably better stay out of her sight," Toby agreed, unaware that the word was already out. "When should I come?" "Oh, any time..." Erin replied, eyeing her mother. "Okay. Twenty minutes?" "Yeah. See ya then!" Erin hung up. Caitlin stood there, arms folded. "You two need to keep it..." Erin just looked at her. "Oh, never mind!" Flustered, she stomped out. She'd be closing the barn door after the horse left anyway, and besides, in theory, at least, Erin was doing better... Toby dropped the phone in its cradle and headed for the hall closet to get a jacket. His mother looked up from the cooking show she was watching, "So, you're off, then?" Toby had been wearing a groove in the floor... "Yeah, I'm going to see my g--..." Toby stopped dead. How to finish this? Too late. Mom was on full alert. "Toby?" Head on, then. "I'm going to see a girl." "To do what? Help her with her algebra?" Mild amusement painted Mom's features. Toby passed on the temptation to lie. "We're just gonna hang out for a while. Watch TV or something." "Really?" Was he pulling her leg, trying to prop up his ego, or had lightning struck? Penny Brillstein's eyes narrowed. "Be home for dinner..." Time to give Jean Braithewaite a call... She'd know, if anything was up -- or she'd pry it out of Randall. Toby nodded and was gone, leaving an aura of relief. Erin didn't get ten feet before the phone rang. This time, it was Louise Bryant. "Oh, hi Louise," Erin mumbled, rolling her eyes, "What's up?" "Uhh, what do you think of Dwayne Hansen?" Louise blurted. Louise had salivated over some boy from a distance every few days FOREVER! Erin sighed, "He's okay, I guess. Why?" "Hey, I'm serious!" Louise complained. "I need to know!" "Why? You gotta date?" Erin returned sarcastically. "Yes." Louise's monosyllable was smug. "What?" The shoe was on the other foot now! "Tell me!" "Well, I went to the basketball game, and got to talking with Mary Eikenberry -- she's nice, did you know that? Anyway, she said I wasn't advertising properly and dragged me down to the girl's lockers for a makeover." Louise giggled. "IF you consider gym clothes a makeover! Anyway, she called Rob and the next thing I knew Dwayne was standing there with his eyes bugging out!" "No way!" "Way! Dwayne took me home -- well, we hung out at the park for a little bit, getting to know one another -- and I have a date tonight!" "Way cool!" Erin was shocked! Louise mostly hid in the corner and dreamed... "So, about Dwayne..." "Well," Erin got serious about it, "he's a jock, which isn't always a good thing, I've learned. And wasn't he in on that thing with Ted Phipps and Darla Jean?" "Well, yeah," Louise admitted, "but I have it on good authority that Ted lies a lot, and Dwayne was a boy scout by comparison." "Really?" Erin had heard the same thing, but... "Really." "So why did you suddenly get interested in Dwayne?" Erin didn't have to see Louise to know that she was blushing. "Well, it was the Darla Jean thing. No matter who you listen to, he's... experienced. And my sources say he's pretty nice, too." Erin's sources said the same thing, actually -- probably because they were basically the same sources. "Okay, so why do you need my opinion?" "I'm scared." "Well DON'T CHICKEN OUT! When's this date?" "Tonight. We're going to the movies. What should I do? What should I wear? What movie should I pick?" Erin rolled her eyes. Louise was SUCH a dishrag! "You'll think of something. Say, what were you wearing that caused Dwayne's eyes to bug out?" Louise laughed. "I was braless under one of Mary's low-cut tops! That and my gym shorts -- without undies. And flip-flops. Doesn't sound like much, but Dwayne noticed!" "No, that'd do it," Erin mused. Louise had a lot more up top than Erin did, even though she hid it under high-necked stuff and squashed it in bras that were too small. "You got pretty brave, then!" "Well, it was Mary's idea." "She was right. So, how far did he go?" "In the car?" Louise giggled nervously. "Well, he got a good feel of my titties. And he brushed a finger over my fur patch once. I pretty much invited that -- I was showing wispies." "So did you have to fight him off?" "No. He was pretty cool about it. He's a good kisser, too!" Erin chuckled. "You should try Toby!" "Brillstein?" "Uh huh. We had a date last night." Now it was Erin's turn to be smug. "Did you..." Louise was well aware that Erin was, well, loose... "No. But we necked something torrid! I spent thirty minutes with Buzz, afterward!" 'Buzz' was Erin's pink vibrator... Louise laughed. "So when do you see him again?" "In about ten minutes, I figure. I just got off the phone with him!" "Wow! We'd better hurry then! What about Dwayne?" "Ummm, well, it doesn't sound like he's rolling right over you. Try to hold onto your cookies until next time, if you can. But it's your call -- do what seems right. Don't let him run everything, though, like you usually do with people..." "Well, we talked about it. I think he understands." Louise murmured diffidently. Erin rolled her eyes. Why didn't Louise just spread herself on the car hood, for Pete's sake? She handed the boy all of the keys... "Well, tonight will probably tell you what you need to know. Honey, some people don't like to run other people's lives -- it's too much responsibility. You need to, like, dress yourself, and breathe on your own every once in a while..." "Oh, God! What am I gonna wear?" Louise wailed. "Clothes." Erin knew Louise's problem. "A blouse that buttons up the front -- that you can unbutton. And a skirt with a stretch waistband that you can roll up?" "Okay. Shoes?" Louise asked. "Don't worry about it. Anything. His attention should be above your feet. Oh, get out of that bra as soon as you can!" "Dwayne's already mentioned that," Louise related. "How?" Erin was suspicious. "He can't understand why I hurt myself like that..." Erin frowned. That could be really cute, or really sneaky... "What about panties?" "He said that was too much of a temptation, and that I should wear them." "Well, wear nice ones!" "You KNOW I don't have any!" There was a knock at Erin's door. "Toby's here! Good luck!" "But--" Erin hung up, ending the conversation. ------- Peter Braithewaite looked up as his son came through the door, "So, how was Astronomy Club?" "Uhhh, good." Randall's demeanor said that there was more to it than that. "What did you do?" "Well, we looked at observation data from last week and some stuff from JPL." "Doesn't sound like an all-nighter." "We kind of hung out after that, fooling around in Jimmy's pool..." Peter was pretty sure that the cat STILL hadn't gotten out of the bag. Given how things tended to be, he suspected that the boys had probably been watching blue movies and jerking off or something. It was a situation he felt that he had to tolerate, given Randall's limited social opportunities, but it bothered him some. In particular, it worried him that things might go beyond that -- so his son's next question made him seriously uneasy... "Dad, were you ever, um, raped?" Peter went white. There was a dead silence that went on for some time. "I... don't want to talk about it. Why?" "It's, um, how you react to certain things, like gays, and jocks..." Peter got a grip on himself. This could be serious. "There was an... incident. We don't speak of it." Concern flooded his features. "Why? You haven't -- you aren't... ?" Randall smiled easily. "Not that you'd notice. Astronomy Club has gone co-ed. I... have a girlfriend..." Peter breathed a sigh of relief while he took in his son's demeanor. There was more to it than that; Randall was displaying a certain confidence. Apparently, not only did he HAVE a girlfriend, he was sleeping with her! THAT was the reason for the all-nighter! "Anyone I know?" "Darla Jean." "She's a little wispy, isn't she?" Peter remembered a narrow, freckled tomboy with pigtails pinned down in rings on her head. "She's, uh, blossomed some." Randall replied. "Well, that's good, I guess. I can remember you guys laughing about how you put her out on her ear the last time she tried to get into the club..." Randall scratched his head absently. "Well, like I said, things have changed. The guys have mostly collected girlfriends, so the all-male thing became a problem, rather than a goal. Besides, Darla Jean is smart enough to contribute in her own right." Peter nodded sagely. He didn't really see Randall maintaining a relationship with some air-head girl. This kind of explained some strange behavior on Randall's part over the last week or so, too. "You're taking the proper precautions?" "Yes." Randall was surprised; they hadn't discussed THAT! "It's all over your face," Peter managed a grin. "Don't get in too deep; boys seldom settle down with their first, you know." "We're... both aware of that," Randall replied guardedly. "Good." Randall got out of there, leaving Peter sorting through his emotions. Jean would have to be told, diplomatically, so she didn't get overly excited. Thank God the boy wasn't... Memory set in... Peter's high school career had been an academic triumph and a social disaster. Girls... He just couldn't bring himself to interact with such angelic creatures! He was horny one hundred percent of the time, which made for problems here and there, like the time he got caught beating off in the boy's room by one of the teachers. He was terribly shy, and feared that the other boys would call him a freak due to the size of his cock (it was around the size of Randall's), so the showers were a problem for him -- one he didn't handle well, attracting unwanted attention. Add to that his GPA and the fact that he shared last period gym with the jocks, and you have all of the makings of a major disaster... Peter was trying to closet himself in the corner shower when someone shoved underwear over his head and brawny arms held his from behind. "Gimme that tape," a voice murmured, and Peter's eyes were further blinded by sticky wrappings and his hands were similarly bound behind him while a hand over his mouth muffled his pleas for help. Moments later he was thrown across a bench in the locker room and the torture began. "Well, Little Peter, we figure it's time to check out the problem with your queer-bait ass!" a voice rumbled. "No! Please! Don't--" Peter began, but the hand was back, first slapping him, then covering his mouth. "Shaddap! Fuckin' do what you're told, queer-bait, an' you might leave here in one piece! If ya don't, Coach is gonna wonder why you're havin' sex with broom handles!" "Oh, God! Noooo--" Slap! Peter saw stars. (Later, Peter would remember his whining and crying with humiliation, but for now there was only fear and pain.) "Open your fucking mouth and stick out your tongue!" Peter refused, more out of fear than bluster, and got pummeled. Finally he acquiesced, wondering, 'Okay, so, what are they going to stick in my mouth? Soap?' It wasn't. Peter knew immediately EXACTLY what it was when the meatsicle settled on his tongue! He squalled and retracted his tongue, but the nasty thing was already between his teeth, leaving the musk of its lubricant on his tongue. Strong hands held his head rigid; he had nowhere to go. The abortive attempt to close his mouth got him another slap and a growled, "You bite me and I'll jam a broom ALL the way up your ass, fuckhead! Now, suck!" So the ordeal began. Initially, they held him rigid and fucked his face, but soon the fight went out of him and they could nod his head over their erections. He was never certain how many there were, how many cocks got jammed in his mouth, how many horrid blasts of semen he choked on. One reason was the distraction introduced during the second blowjob; suddenly, a hard, oblong object was being forced aganst his asshole! Peter screamed and fought, bringing on a momentary hiatus while his tormentors reorganized things... "Shit! This thing's too big! Wrong shape, too!" "Okay, so it's a bar of soap. What do you expect?" "I gotta reshape the fucker, or I can't use it! Chop it in half lengthwise, maybe..." "What the fuck you gonna use to do that?" "Hey! Gimme your pocket knife!" "What you gonna do with it?" "Don't worry..." Various noises met Peter's ears, but he was otherwise engaged. Only later did he recognize the sounds of the knife working a bar of soap. "There! That's better. Got one for the other queer-bait, too!" Only then did Peter realize that he wasn't the only victim -- that the thrashing noises and grunts across the room represented another attack. But he didn't have much time to think about it; the wet bar of soap, now trimmed down and rounded, was again being forced against his protesting anus -- this time, successfully! Peter grunted and thrashed, but the soap was wet and slick and it got past his sphincter. Peter forced it out, and one of his assailants gleefully chased it across the floor, wet it, and re- inserted it. This happened three or four times before somebody grunted, "Okay, he's slick enough," and Peter suddenly realized that he'd been helping them! Oh, God! But it was too late -- the blunt head of a cock began pressing where the soap had paved the way and Peter howled in agony as it tore through, causing the soap to burn his rectum. Peter forgot all about the cock sliding in and out of his mouth -- the REAL horror was the one now tearing into his ass! This went on for -- minutes? Centuries? Peter wasn't sure... There was more than one visitor, though, at each of his portals. But the final humiliation was yet to come! "He likes it! Jeezus! Lookit that boner!" Peter realized that they were talking about HIM! How could he be aroused by all this? The horror intensified. "Whoa! Guess you ain't Little Peter after all, queer-bait! Get that other queer-bait over here to suck him off!" Moments later, soft lips wrapped themselves around his erection and Peter came, copiously, almost immediately, his iron-hard member gouting into the anonymous mouth. Peter's shame and humiliation knew no bounds! Moments later, it was apparently over. They rolled him onto the floor and taped him to the other victim, leaving them there until apparently the last of them was dressed and ready to leave, then cut part way through their bindings and left. By the time the pair broke loose, their assailants were long gone, and they were left with their embarrassment, pain, and humiliation. The remainder of Peter's senior year was one long wait for the episode to repeat itself, punctuated by the nightmares. Worst of all was the fact that he'd enjoyed parts of it, physically! Was he queer? God! The other victim, Germaine Brown, a slight black boy, DID become a homosexual -- or maybe he just was, originally -- even to the point of accosting Peter once for a re-match! Peter actually threatened him with violence -- something unheard-of in Peter -- and the boy left him alone. The only positive thing to come from the experience was the fact that the taunts of 'Little Peter' went away -- but Peter wondered just how many people knew why. He couldn't face his schoolmates; the uncertainty made his life a living Hell until he got out of high school. In fact, he was almost completely without a social life for his first two years of college! Finally, Jean had rescued him... Peter fixed himself a scotch. Those memories always left him stressed out -- and Jean was going to get a serious riding tonight while he engaged in a bout of self-affirmation! Peter grinned without humor; recognizing what he was doing didn't keep it from happening... ------- "Hi, Mama." Nate strode through the door, followed by Nora, Draper, and Tenisha -- all of whom were working towels over their bodies. "Boy," Tabitha favored her offspring with a nod. "How you doin'?" She punctuated this with a glance around their surroundings. "Fine." Nate's face closed. "Takin' the day off. Gotta work tomorrow... What 'bout you?" "I'm rediscoverin' sex!" Tabitha replied, with a glance at Paul. Paul's expression said he'd suddenly rather be elsewhere. "Huh?" Draper grunted. "I, uh, thought you, uh, knew quite a bit 'bout that..." "What I do for work ain't sex, Honey. Least for me it ain't. Mostly it's about lettin' somebody beat off in me." Tabitha grunted. "Last night was the first time in a LOOONG time that I went lookin' fer mine -- an' I found it, jus' fine! Sex is, well, between the ears, I guess. You gotta have some interest in what you're doin' an' who you're doin' it with..." Belatedly, she looked around at the girls present. "Sorry, gals." Nora shrugged. "I've learned that for Daddy, the 'regular' part of sex isn't as important as what else is going on -- and I'm beginning to think that might apply to Mom, too." "What might apply to me?" Sharon asked, re-entering the room. Tabitha moved in smoothly. "She was jus' sayin' that you probly understood that sex is between the ears more than between the legs better'n most." "Oh." Sharon examined this comment for negative content, but left it when results turned out to be inconclusive. "Okay." Armand's rumbling chuckle sounded behind her. "Such wisdom..." He eyed Tabitha and nodded toward Nate. "I'll give you a moment or two with your son, then I'd appreciate it if you joined us in my study." "No problem," Tabitha replied. "We ain't got that much ta say to one another, anyways, bein' we're both doin' okay. Right, Boy?" "Yeh." She stepped up and gave him a peck on the cheek and he offered a hug. When she stepped back, she took in Leticia, who had recovered her bikini top, since everyone else had -- but was still sans bottoms and sporting a tail. "Well, THAT's interestin'! You run 'round like that alla time?" "Um, no," Leticia returned hesitantly. With Armand in the room, she didn't dare be unresponsive. "Le's see the back," Tabitha directed. Freshly mortified, Leticia granted her the view. "Looks better on you than it would on me, I bet," Tabitha commented. "So howcum?" "I insulted your son and his friends. Mr. Wilson is punishing me for it." "Uh... huh..." Tabitha eyed Armand. Yeah, the rumors were true. This shit could still come down around her ears... "Well, least it looks good. Could be worse." Turning to Nate, she said, "I'll see y'all later." Nate nodded, and she followed Sharon out of the room. Paul brought up the rear. "We probably oughta go," Tenisha announced. Draper nodded. Nora got the pair organized, getting them back to their room to change and ordering Draper's car brought around. On the way out, Draper pulled Nate aside. "Hey, 'bout jobs, Man..." Nate nodded. "I'll ask." "Cool." ------- The group that gathered in Armand's study consisted of Armand, Jason, Sharon, Scott, Paul, and Tabitha, with Witherspoon on the phone. Armand kicked things off as they settled in various couches and chairs, "How is your health?" "I'm comin' up," Tabitha replied. "Better'n expected, after that run-in I had. Thanks." "Unfortunately, Mr. Pinkham continues to be a slow learner," Armand announced, resuming control of things. "We're gathered here to discuss what can be done about it." Turning to Paul, he said, "Why don't you brief us on this latest incident?" Paul nodded. "We went out to get Tabitha some fresh air and to get her seen in her old haunts -- largely to ascertain Rodday's reaction. One of his hired help detected us almost immediately, and set up an ambush in the parking lot. From what we got later, the intent was to penetrate Tabitha's protection and give her a more visible and lasting reminder of who was in charge -- a broken bone, perhaps. We detected it, and our personnel on the scene proved superior to theirs. Rodday's people retired with a couple of broken bones, instead of Tabitha." "I see," Armand murmured. "Then what happened?" Paul looked distinctly uncomfortable. "I took Tabitha to my apartment." "Why?" " 'Cause I wheedled him inta it," Tabitha supplied. "I needed ta see if my money-maker was workin'. Paul was a project -- he wasn't gonna jus' fall in the sack wit' me, which made it more of a challenge, like." "Okay, I see your end, but was taking her to your apartment sensible? Was she covered?" Armand pressed. "Thoroughly," Scott replied, again deflecting Armand's attack. "Rodday's people had no idea where Paul lives, and we had a full team on site across the street, constantly. The surveillance equipment at the safe house was an issue with Tabitha; at Mr. Matheson's place, they had a bit more privacy, but good coverage, including personal trackers." Armand nodded, but again shifted his attention to Paul. "Okay, so, it was safe. Was it professional?" "Absolutely not," Paul replied, "but..." "I wasn't takin' 'no' fer an answer!" Tabitha insisted. "It's true!" Scott piped up. "I was there for some of it! You'd have to be dead not to be interested..." "Okay, okay!" Paul waved him off. "It wasn't right. And I knew that, going in." "Goddam it! I TOLD ya, he fought the whole thing! I coulda had Scott, here, probly on the first pass, but Paul argued, and hid out, and ducked and dodged... I didn't LET him say no! I bet I could get YOU ta fuck me quicker'n HE did!" Tabitha ranted. Scott nodded solemnly. Paul just sat there, waiting. Armand sat there for a moment, watching Paul. If he'd blustered, Armand would have had him hammered; instead, since he was obviously awaiting a reprimand, it was just as obvious that one was not required. "All right. Are you two at all romantically involved, at this point? Or was it just sex?" Paul's eyes shifted to Tabitha's. To be fair, it was a bit early, a couple of bouts in the sack notwithstanding; besides, Tabitha was a professional... If pressed, his answer was a clear 'no'. But it was Tabitha who answered, and surprised him with, "Yeah. The big lug makes my pussy itch. I'm chasin' him." "All right," Armand replied blandly. "In that case, Mr. Matheson is going to be hampered somewhat in your protection. Scott, you're in charge, although Matheson continues to be the close-in coverage. This is a decision arrived at for professional reasons that I'm sure Mr. Matheson realizes; I've been adequately convinced that he has been acting in good faith and no stigma or reproach is implied. Witherspoon, do you understand?" "Yes, Sir." "Let's move on, then." Armand tented his fingers. "To recap, we've visited Rodday and discussed his tactics with him after the initial incident, and we've reproached his minions on two occasions now, one of which followed an attempt to abduct or injure Nate and Nora. I'm thinking that it is time the gloves came off." "Well, mebbe," Tabitha argued, "But I gotta live wit' him around afterwards. He's already pissed..." "And he'll just keep trying to get control of the situation until it is impressed upon him that the losses that he will incur are unacceptable," Armand replied. "Things have already escalated to the point that he has lost face. The problem that we have here is the amount of resources that it will take to discourage him permanently. If Rodday wishes to play the fool, nothing short of his termination will dissuade him. We need to try to find something short of that that is adequately discouraging. Failing that, we need to find a way to defray the expense of your ongoing protection." "Huh." Tabitha grunted. This could suck... "I figgered Rodday for smarter than the average pimp. Not sure whether that's good or bad, now..." "It's both, I think," Armand replied. "In the near term, he may be convinced -- but he may bide his time, which could be a long-term problem." "So it'd be cheaper ta kill him," Tabitha summarized. "Well, yes, but it's not within my normal operating parameters. I try to keep things generally legal. A little mayhem here and there is one thing -- gang wars are another. For one thing, I'd not engage in anything like this with local assets -- better to bring in someone from the outside, if it comes to that." "Armand, I don't like where this is headed," Sharon announced. "The intent is to keep it from going there," Armand replied smoothly. "Let's look at what we'd LIKE to do to punish him. Tabitha?" "I'd LIKE to kick the bastard in the nuts -- HARD! But it might be better to jus' keep him from makin' money as the Pimp King..." Armand tapped tented fingers together. "To do that, we have to compete. I'm not sure I want to start supporting streetwalkers, wholesale. And once we got going, we'd have to protect the girls from Rodday -- something that would take considerable manpower on the street... I want to see you on your own two feet -- something you can't be if you have to pay for bodyguards." "Um, so, I need a pimp..." Tabitha cackled. "Sounds like 'Night Shift'," Sharon burst out. Armand gave her a quizzical glance. "It's an old Henry Winkler movie. Guy meets a hooker whose pimp beats her up, and ends up taking her and several other girls on, running an outcall service out of the city morgue. He was giving them 401Ks, health insurance, better lawyers... Naturally, there were problems with the criminals, and it fell apart..." Tabitha looked thoughtful. "Still, you gotta idea. If we set up a cathouse, everbody's in one place -- an' easier ta protect. And everbody can help pay for it..." Armand frowned. "One static location makes you a target for the police." "More'n usual?" Tabitha countered. "Sniffin' out vice cops is part o' the job... 'Sides, I know whose palm ta grease, if I got money ta do it with, Honey." "Perhaps they could all rotate between safe houses," Witherspoon suggested over the phone. "Big problem with hookin' is gettin' found by johns," Tabitha grunted. "An' if ya put yourself out so a john can find ya, so can a cop. Ya can pay off cops, but the same ones who'll take your money are the ones that wanta be in politics -- so they'll fry ya if it means a promotion or a shot at bein' elected dogcatcher." "So you need to filter your clientele before they get an address," Armand mused. "Even then, you're not safe from arrest." "Somebody wit' a good nose for trouble an' who knows the ropes could keep shit to a minimum..." Tabitha mused. "Like you?" Armand pointed out. "I couldn't work, then." Tabitha flashed a glance at Paul. "Much, anyway." "You'd just have a different job description," Armand replied. "Madam, perhaps." Tabitha cackled. "An old whore's dream!" "Well, during the initial phase, you'd probably have to pull in traffic off the street, examine prospects, and forward them to the house," Armand replied. "The only difference would be that you wouldn't be actually doing the servicing. The inside girls would have to support you." "Um, yeah. But better girls, a better place -- that kinda shit means ya can charge more. I like the movin' around thing..." "My people know a few tricks for confusing people," Witherspoon added. "In urban areas, sometimes you can cut through a door into the next building that clients would pass through without realizing it. You can close it off in times of trouble -- not to mention the fact that police with a search warrant would have the wrong address..." "I like THAT!" Tabitha cackled. "Simple things can confuse things," Witherspoon continued. "In developments where every home is alike, you can change the house number, for instance. Many of these are two lots to the house, so that house numbers jump by four, such as 1910 to 1914. On working days, you change the house number on a simple plaque to 1912..." "... Which don't exist!" Tabitha nodded. "Shit, great idea!" "We do similar with safe houses on occasion." "One problem wit' a cathouse is neighbors," Tabitha mused. "Agreed," Witherspoon murmured. "Sometimes it isn't enough to have one house -- you need for the surrounding properties to be controlled by you or people beholden to you." "Do you have anything available in the vicinity of existing safe houses, where this is all taken care of?" Armand asked. "Mmmm, actually, I can think of at least three sites," Witherspoon replied. "We might have to expand our sphere of influence a bit, but having three sides covered is better than having none... If we, uh, got into bed together, we might be able to set up mutual escape routes between our safe houses and your, uh, businesses..." Tabitha chuckled. "We might hafta barter 'til we got off the ground..." Scott looked thoughtful. "Mmmm, yes. Undoubtedly, some of my people are already in your customer base," Witherspoon replied. "Private detection and security make for a poor family lifestyle." "I hate to say it, but our old place meets the cookie-cutter development criterion pretty exactly," Sharon chuckled. "It's also thoroughly covered from a surveillance point of view," Scott pointed out, then shut up abruptly. "Yeah, I know." Sharon glared briefly at Armand. Armand ignored that component of her glance. "You wouldn't have an issue with turning your old place into a gathering place for hookers, then?" Sharon made a face. "It wouldn't be my first choice -- but I can't go back there." "Actually, the installed surveillance equipment could help secure the safety of Ms. Adams' staff," Witherspoon pointed out. "I believe that whorehouses in Nevada have in-room surveillance to ensure the safety of the employees and that customers are not fleeced in some manner." "Hmph. Yeh, good idea -- on both ends!" Tabitha grunted. "Why don't you start there, then?" Armand suggested. "Witherspoon, any issues?" "No. I've pretty much already agreed in principle," Witherspoon chuckled. "We'll need to ink some kind of agreement..." "That might be hard, since I cain't go downtown an' register a hookin' business. Too bad, though, that 401K thing'd be pretty neat. Not to mention health insurance. Doctors rip you off if you ain't got insurance." "Well, maybe not 'rip off', but they charge full rate, because you can't bring the same pressure to bear an insurance company can," Armand agreed. "Still, I imagine that we might discover work-arounds. Jason?" Jason nodded. "We have some template plans for our employees who remain unacknowledged in the official table of organization. I'm sure some of them are adaptable. It might still be wise to register a corporate entity for certain purposes, like home purchases." "Then there'd be taxes an' shit," Tabitha grunted, leery. "If I got income, no welfare..." "If you're successful, you won't need it," Armand assured her. "Lotta money, here..." Tabitha mused. " 'Bout a ton if it goin' out..." "If the business is even adequately run, the flow will turn around rapidly," Armand assured her. "I'll front you for 90 days for the physical plant -- Witherspoon, three locations, including Sharon's old place -- and we'll see where we are at that point." "If it sinks..." Tabitha ventured. "I'll own YOU!" Armand replied. "Fuck, you do, anyway..." "All right, let's discuss the mechanics of our visit to break the news to Rodday..." Armand moved the conversation forward to the tactical plan for their 'visit' to Rodday's club. ------- "So," Pete murmured, squatting on the end of a lounge chair and drying his hair, "Think they're done?" "For a while, anyway," Bianca agreed. Toweling her own hair was leaving it a mess -- but she hated bathing caps... Pete had helped her back into her top after the group exited the pool, and he'd been a perfect gentleman about it -- but she wished he hadn't. Their excuse to be together out here was gone, but neither was in any hurry to leave; the tone of Pete's question had made THAT clear. "Maybe we should hang out for a while, just in case..." "Maybe. Got a brush? I'll help you with that." Bianca's hair was thick, luxuriant, and fell to her shoulder blades -- when not wadded and kinked from chlorine and rough usage by a towel. Pete's offer was an interesting one, on more than one level. "In my room -- which is some distance from here." Bianca started combing through her hair with her fingers. "Well, I have fingers, too..." Pete stepped around behind her and started working lower down, toward the tips, while Bianca pushed things down and back from her face. Pete tried to concentrate on hair, but a cleavage shot was just over her shoulder, there -- and he was enough taller that it wasn't work. The things were like melons, round, fat... The bikini top pressed them back toward her chest, creating this odd tunnel where they were pressed together over her breastbone. Pete jerked his eyes away; he was pulling another boner... "It's too wild," Bianca announced after a moment. "I'll go dunk it again..." She slipped free and dove into the water. Pete stopped himself from following, contenting himself with the observation, "Now you're wet again," when she surfaced. Bianca tilted her head back to allow her hair to float free again, "Well, it was out of control. It needs conditioner to keep it from tangling -- especially if I'm going to work it over with a towel! We'll just wrap it when I come out this time..." The effort, however, surfaced another issue -- apparently, Pete had missed something when he'd helped Bianca back into her bikini top! Pete's eyes popped as Bianca's roll backward surfaced a pair of taut brown nipples; apparently, the dive had stripped her top from her breasts and left it floating around her waist. Bianca discovered the whole thing when she rose back up; a combination of Pete's expression and the feel of loose fabric drifting around under her breasts led her to look down at her exposed chest. While her first reaction was an effort at embarrassed cover-up, she was swimming in deep water; the moment's reflection compensating for that gave her an opportunity to remember that she WANTED Pete to see them! "Oh, well," she smiled into his eyes, "you've seen, them, anyway..." "Well, um, I'm sorry," Pete replied. "I must've missed something, buttoning you up..." "It's okay; I should have checked it. Bring me a towel?" Bianca started swimming toward the ladder. "Uh, sure." Pete took two. Bianca climbed out and completely ignored the displaced bikini top while she tucked her hair in a towel -- granting Pete an eyeful of her orbs hanging pendulous as she bent over -- then proceeded to remove it entirely. "That's one less set of tan lines I have to worry about, " Bianca remarked. Why anyone would worry about tanning such honey-gold skin was beyond Pete. Pete had long since determined that he had a thing for Hispanic girls -- and Bianca had it all! Jet black hair -- the soft down on her arms was black, too, and Pete had heard some of his contemporaries describe it as a shortcoming, but he thought it was cute -- after all, it wasn't coarse, like the hair on HIS arms... Undoubtedly, at some point, Bianca's shape would shift toward her mother's -- not that Pete considered THAT to be any too objectionable in an older woman -- but right now, at this moment, Bianca was undoubtedly at her peak -- and she was incredible! Pete couldn't take his eyes off her -- and that brought on other problems... Pete's swim trunks did an exceedingly poor job of covering his erection, plastered as they were against his wet legs. The thing was HUGE, nearly erupting from the waistband of his trunks, and Bianca needed no other indication that she had his attention. In fact, she was so busy scoping it out that she missed the fact that he was staring. "Maybe I'll sunbathe a bit," she mused, then inspiration struck: "Maybe you could oil my back?" Pete's brain was screaming that he was over the line, but his brain wasn't running things. Bianca was bending over again, digging in her beach bag for suntan oil, and Pete just couldn't look away! When Bianca straightened up and waved the bottle, locking eyes with him, he just took it. He was seriously busted in any case, since Bianca locked eyes with him. 'This is fun!' flashed through Bianca's mind, accompanied by a serious rush. That she had Pete's attention was more than clear; how far could she push this? How far did she want to? Pretty far -- the red tone to her skin as she toweled off wasn't because of the towel! Bianca was in full heat! What could she get away with, reasonably? Consequences were now irrelevant... Skinny-dipping had come up a number of times that morning, and Leticia had been running around buck-naked -- with a tail, for God's sake! Maybe... Bianca rearranged a lounger, making it flat so that she could lie on it face down, then stepped out of her bikini bottoms, croaking, "While I'm getting rid of tan lines..." She couldn't face Pete --the look on her face would give her away totally -- so she just stretched out on the towel-covered lounger. This was 'WAY too much for Pete -- but he wasn't able to work up the will power to back off -- not after watching that sweet, round ass pop out of those bottoms! Girls came easily to Pete, normally, and he'd seen quite a few since his first conquest at age fourteen -- but this... This whole thing had a forbidden aura to it that brought on a full, teenage-level case of rut! That she wanted the attention was clear -- that it was insane was irrelevant! Pete mechanically poured a dollop of suntan oil on his palm and went to work on Bianca's shoulders, bending low over the lounger. When her shoulders and neck were done, he picked up her limp left arm and went to work on it, enjoying the feel of her skin. He was curiously detached; part of him was savoring every opportunity, while the rest sat back and analyzed the whole thing without interfering. The suntan oil thing was a total cliché; Bianca might as well have said, "Grope me," and gotten it over with. And therein lay the issue: His little head demanded a full vote, and he had Bianca's vote -- Hell, even the big head had a hard time under those circumstances coming out with a 'nay'! The only downside was what others might think of the whole thing -- and that might go really badly, or it might be a total non-issue! Ultimately, it seemed safest to play the silly game and pretend that he was innocently applying oil... These ruminations got him through oiling both arms; now it was time to work her back, which wouldn't go well from the side. Gingerly, he straddled the lounger and settled himself just below those pert, round cheeks... "You're dripping on me!" Bianca complained. For Bianca, the cold drips had been the first discordant note in several minutes' bliss, while strong hands worked her arms, neck and shoulders. "I suppose you want me to take MY swimsuit off?" Pete popped off. Bianca let out a strangled gasp. Would he? Her gasp brought Pete up short. No, that was DEFINITELY too much! "I don't think that would be a good idea," he mumbled distantly. Bianca made another noise -- but there was a distinct note of disappointment to it. 'Damn!' Bianca thought. If he'd done that, they'd have done it, for sure! It would have been so easy; all she'd have had to do would have been raise her ass a bit... Oh, well... Pete started working oil into Bianca's back, starting in the middle and spreading it around to her sides. Since she continued to allow him full access, he took advantage of the fact to the point of working the outsides of her breasts, something Bianca not only allowed, but raised her arms to get more of! He worked his way down to the small of her back and dawdled while he tried to decide whether she REALLY wanted his hands on her ass... Bianca clarified things. "There, too," she husked. "That needs oil more than anything else back there!" Pete scooted back, and Bianca spread her legs to let him settle between them. That left both of them breathless. Would he take the invitation? Bianca waited with bated breath. Pete stopped dead while he took in the view -- a bright pink opening framed by soft black curls. After a moment, he shook himself and began the thoroughly enjoyable task of applying oil to her firm ass. It didn't REALLY need the kneading that Pete gave it, but Bianca was thrilled to death at the attention, so it didn't matter. Finally, Pete decided that any reasonable person would accuse him of loitering, so he moved on, hopping up and working on Bianca's right leg, starting at the foot and moving slowly upward, bracing himself on a knee that continued to be wedged between Bianca's. Bianca became more and more excited as he worked his way up her thigh -- would he touch her, there? The tension was unbearable... He didn't. Instead, Pete began working her left leg, with the same attention to detail that he'd applied to her right. Or, at least, his hands were providing that attention -- his eyes were fixed on that pink exclamation point of soft, wet flesh, the dot at the base of which was Bianca's pea-sized erect clit! It was... juicy -- in fact, as he watched, a clear drop extended itself from the inside of her inner lips and dripped slowly onto the towel beneath her. It was... fascinating... Pete extended a forefinger at the top of a slow sweep up Bianca's left thigh to gently touch a soft petal of the open flower. Bianca was so hot her insides were quaking. She wanted Pete to do something -- anything -- that would allow her to surrender to him! Those hands on her back, and sides, making her breasts tingle, then rubbing her ass... Heaven! Now, after a respite that merely added to her tension, his hands were working her thighs -- and the flesh of her inner thighs welcomed the feel of those firm fingers as they got closer and closer... Pete's extended finger touched her left inner lip and Bianca let out a gasp of lust. Her whole pussy pulsed, the lips closing together for a moment before springing back open -- but the effect on the mesmerized Pete was totally unexpected! Suddenly, his rock hard cock gave a mighty pulse, and semen went everywhere! A splash blasted across the back of Bianca's sensitive left thigh, Pete's cock having actually pushed open the elastic waistband of his trunks enough to fire it's payload into the open! Pete lurched up, shocked, took a swipe at the back of Bianca's thigh to recover the evidence, and ran to jump into the pool in a panicked attempt to avoid detection of the hideously embarrassing explosion of his cock in his trunks! Bianca, just as surprised, surged up from the lounger. What on Earth got into Pete? Everything was going so well... "Pete! What are you doing?" she screeched, rolling over to expose herself frontally while she challenged him. "Why did you do that?" Pete, the cold water having returned some measure of sanity, whined, "I'm TRYING to be GOOD!" Bianca sputtered, "But I don't WANT you to be good! I want you to be... GOOD!" "Bianca..." "NO! Why do we have to pretend and play silly games?" Bianca stormed. "I want you -- there, I've said it! I want you to... do me! Is that clear enough?" Pete sighed and hauled himself out of the pool, surreptitiously checking to ensure that he wasn't leaving white streaks anywhere. "Yes, Sweetie, it's VERY clear -- and I'd LOVE to do it -- but there are laws. You're not old enough to give consent, legally, to me to have sex with you. I could get arrested!" Bianca threw herself to her feet and stomped one of them. "That's silly! In Mama's village, girls get MARRIED at my age!" "That's Mexico. They have different laws. Your Mama would NOT approve of me having sex with you -- and she could have me thrown in jail as a result! It's just not a good idea! Besides, I'm..." Pete couldn't call himself 'old'... "A lot older than you." "So? That's a GOOD thing! Do you think I want anything from boys my age? They're all... idiots! What do they know about what a woman wants?" She snatched up her top and began putting it on, then flashed him a glance. "What if Mama approves? Is it still illegal?" "What?" Pete gasped in shock. "I, uh, I don't know, actually..." "I'll go ask her, then," Bianca announced, stepping into her panties. "Come on." "B-but..." Pete started thrashing his way out of the pool. "But what?" Bianca, hands on hips, was waiting by the door. "Don't tell me you don't want to..." "No, it's not that..." Jeezus! What was he saying, exactly? Wasn't he admitting to wanting to be some kind of child molester? How old was she? Sixteen? "Well, she's gonna say no, and then life's gonna be pretty embarrassing, for a while..." '... at least... ' he added in his head. "We'll see." She was off, head high, stalking. Pete got it in gear, snatching a towel and trying to get some semblance of dry while basically running after the charged-up teen. Having made up her mind to force a confrontation, Bianca lost no time, racing from room to room in search of her mother. Pete followed along behind, wondering just how he was going to escape the ensuing bloodbath. The look of resolution on Bianca's face told him that stopping her wasn't an option, short of a gag and a length of rope; the best he could do would be to be present and hopefully keep them both from paying too high a price for this exercise in insanity. Mama wasn't in the kitchen. "Have you seen Mama?" Bianca asked Velma. "No, Honey. Mebbe she's wit' Mistah J?" Velma caught the look on Pete's face, "Whatchew doin' Hon..." It was too late -- Bianca was gone. Velma fixed an eye on Pete, "Yo' done sumpthin'?" "No -- well, maybe. I gotta go..." Pete ran to catch up to Bianca, whose ass was jiggling and swaying enticingly to her determined stride. Jason's office. Mister Jason was seated at his desk, but apparently not doing a lot. Bianca burst in, drawing a frown, but she was beyond noticing. "Have you seen Mama? I need to talk to her. Do you know where she is?" "Well, yes," Jason replied, dropping his right hand into his lap, apparently. "Is this something I can help with?" Pete was hanging there in the doorway, and the look on his face said he wasn't prepared to enjoy whatever encounter Bianca and her mother had. "Well, Mama's my parent, so I think she has to do this -- no offense..." Faced with her mother's scary boyfriend/master, Bianca began to wind down. "But you know legal stuff, and Mama won't, so maybe I should ask you before I ask her -- if I want to be with Pete, is it okay if Mama gives permission?" There was a choking sound and a struggle; Jason reluctantly released the hand he'd used to hold Inez to her work vacuuming his erection when this conversation started and Inez thrashed her way up from behind the desk. "What?!!" Inez switched languages and started spitting Spanish at a machinegun rate. Jason was unable to follow it, but he detected a couple of curses and could guess the rest. Nonetheless, Pete should obviously be party to the conversation, and he obviously had no Spanish... Besides, the whole thing was impolite! "Silence!" he roared, slapping Inez on the ass for emphasis! "No!" Inez whirled on him. "This is a... parent... thing! I MUST--" "You MUST speak ENGLISH!" Jason roared. "There are two people in this room who are party to this conversation who cannot carry it on in Spanish! You will speak English, or you will say NOTHING!" For emphasis, he pounded her ass again, HARD! "Master, I... have not the words!" Inez complained. "Bianca does. Translate that harangue for us, please," Jason turned his attention to Bianca. "Mama asked why I insisted on acting like a common..." Bianca trailed off. "Whore," Jason supplied. "I got that part." "Uhn huh. And why did I want to sleep with a gringo who was twice my age, and did I not understand that only a slut does not go to her marriage bed unsullied..." Bianca supplied. "Ummm. Pretty tall talk for a woman in her situation, huh?" Jason grunted. "Yes, Sir." Bianca gave her mother the fish eye. "I do not want her to make the mistakes that I did!" Inez burst out. "Gee, I wonder what YOUR first mistake was?" Jason replied sarcastically. "Maybe tying yourself to that fool Raoul?" He nodded apology to Bianca, "Sorry." Turning back to Inez, he continued, "No doubt you were a virgin to YOUR marriage bed -- how EXACTLY did that improve your life?" "Ah..." Inez's eyes bulged. Only temperament carried her forward. "It kept all of the women in the village from calling me a puta!" she rasped. Jason nodded, suddenly an arbiter, rather than a prosecutor. "But that was in your village. You're not there, any more. In fact, you are unlikely to return. Bianca is growing up in other circumstances. For that matter, YOUR circumstances have changed, too! Perhaps you should adjust to reality..." "The rules of my village..." Inez began hotly. "Do not play here," Jason cut her off. "And you, of all people, are fortunate that they do not! Come here! It appears that you need to be reminded of your station! What do you think that these two think you were doing under my desk, slut? Picking up staples? Vacuuming the rug?" He snatched her wrist and dragged her before him, facing the others. "Tell them what you were doing!" Inez stood there with her mouth open. Jason raised her skirt from behind and walloped her ass again. "Tell them!" "I... was... sucking..." Inez's features reddened deeply. "And that makes you not a slut -- how?" Jason challenged. "What?" Inez shook her head. "I do not..." "He is asking you if this is different than what a slut does, Mama," Bianca supplied. "Oh." Inez hung her head. "No." "Good." Jason was all business. "Now that that is settled, back up here and resume your duties." Jason slid the chair he was sitting in back further from his desk, then pulled the unresisting Inez to a position before him. For the next few moments, his activities were shielded by Inez's voluminous skirts, but neither Bianca nor Pete had any illusions as to what he was doing. Inez settled onto his lap with that look that said she was feeling more than seeing -- and she was. She was feeling Jason's erection penetrate her, right here in front of Bianca -- and, more embarrassing, Pete! "Move a bit, here," Jason growled. "Keep me happy." Inez started slowly raising and lowering herself, blushing fiercely. "Continue your conversation," Jason waved magnanimously. Inez attempted to concentrate upon her daughter and the outrageous request she was making. "This is wrong, my flower -- you should wait until you find a boy..." "But I don't WANT a boy!" Bianca burst out, "I want a MAN! Boys -- what do THEY know?" "She HAS a point," Jason murmured. "Shhh, Master!" Inez was so thoroughly distracted that she didn't even realize what she said! Jason let it go -- fine-tuning her conduct could wait until she'd finished dealing with her offspring. Gathering herself, Inez continued, "This is love, then?" Bianca blinked. "Ah, I don't know..." "And you?" Inez challenged Pete. "Is it love for you? Why are you here?" "I, ah, think it's early to call it love," Pete temporized. "It's a mutual attraction. But there are a lot of obstacles... I wouldn't be here, despite the attraction, if Bianca wasn't pressing the issue." "Yes," Inez's eyes were hooded. "How old are you?" "I'm twenty-seven." "Almost twice her age!" Inez emphasized, then turned to Bianca. "What do you know about love at fourteen?" "Fourteen!" Pete burst out. He'd thought she was sixteen, anyway. How could a girl with a figure so lush be fourteen? "Si," Inez smiled, knowing she'd made another point. "Mama, girls get married at fourteen in the old country!" Bianca burst forth. "What do THEY know of love?" "Nothing, usually," her mother supplied. "We arrange marriages in the old country, many times. Love is expected to happen afterward." She smiled, bitterly. "But we are not talking about marriage, here, are we?" Pete was just standing there, bewildered. Things were moving 'WAY too fast! Bianca was the one to respond, "No, Mama. This isn't about marriage." "What is it about?" Inez asked. Jason took this moment to deliver another swat on Inez's ass. "Keep it moving!" Against this moment of distraction, Bianca replied, grinning, "It's about sex, I guess." "Sex? Just sex?" Inez asked. "Is it ever 'just sex'?" Jason asked rhetorically. "Go ahead, Bianca, explain." "Pete is hot, and I KNOW that he's a good lover!" Bianca erupted. "I don't want my first time to be with some high school guy who's done it about twice -- I want it to be good!" "Master, this is your fault! Yours and Lord Armand's!" Inez berated Jason over her shoulder. "Making Bianca follow the puta around has ruined her!" Jason grunted. "I disagree. This thing between you and Pete isn't new, is it, Bianca?" "No, Sir," Bianca agreed. "It's been growing for a while. Neither of us could make the whole leap, though. There were some breakthroughs over the last couple of weeks..." "See?" Inez pressed. Bianca undercut her, though, immediately, with, "The thing between Mama and Papa and her coming out into the open with you, Mister Jason -- those were big..." Inez stopped in mid stroke, aghast, but Jason wasn't having any. He hauled her down onto him, then started directing her with his hands on her hips. "Pick it up! I want YOU to remember what it is we're discussing here, slut! What do YOU think of sex?" Inez tried to gather her dignity. "It is something I do for my..." "If you lie, I will beat you!" Jason warned. Inez was going to get a beating anyway, over this episode -- but she apparently didn't know that yet. "Okay! I like it!" Inez admitted. "The why do you seek to deny your daughter?" Jason pressed. "She's too young!" Inez wailed. Faster motion, humiliation, and the direction things were headed were taking their toll on her, spurring arousal where she had been able to stave things off. "She doesn't think so," Jason murmured. "He's too old!" Inez whined. "In your village, they marry young girls off to old men all the time, just because they are rich!" Bianca argued hotly. "Pete is MUCH younger than any of THEM!" "But this isn't marriage!" Inez argued. "It's sex -- and that makes you a puta!" "Marrying young girls to old men isn't sex?" Bianca argued. "Actually, it's something worse! In this country, they have a word for old men who chase young girls -- pedophile!" "Is that what he is, then?" Inez wanted to know, waving at Pete. "By the letter of the law, maybe," Jason interjected. "But he's really too young, and Bianca is really too old -- especially between the ears -- for it to be true. From what I can see, this isn't a case of him taking advantage of Bianca as much as it is Bianca wanting to take advantage of their mutual attraction to get a fulfilling sexual experience. Speaking of which..." Jason started lunging up into Inez from below. Inez, forced to react, began to lose the thread of things -- what was going on between her legs was too distracting. Bianca shut up, biding her time; she and Pete watched while the sex act between her mother and Mister Jason became more and more intense. With the end of the conversational challenge, Inez's attention went solely to her Master and his efforts -- and her own. Bianca had seen them have sex before, and Pete, well, Inez forgot about Pete totally! The waves of pleasure began to rise in her and she began to put more and more effort into pleasing her Master -- and, by extension, herself. Bianca waited until her mother was obviously close to orgasm, her gaze turned blankly inward and her movements manic, before challenging her again: "If sex is so terrible, why do you enjoy it so much?" "It isn't..." Inez gasped out. "Then why do you go to such great lengths to deny it to me?" Bianca railed. The challenge was perfectly timed; even if Inez WANTED to stop to argue with her daughter, she couldn't -- experience told her that her master was approaching his completion even as she approached hers! "Go!" she gasped, waving, "Do what you must!" Jason began swatting her on the ass, and she sensed the rising of the tidal wave before her. Bianca turned, pleased with herself, and collected Pete's hand -- but Pete only let her haul him out of sight before he planted himself and brought them both to a stop. "This isn't the time," he announced. "It isn't?" Bianca blinked, surprised. "No. Think about it; do you have the feelings you had when we started out? Is the urge REALLY still there?" "Ummm, I guess not," Bianca admitted. The argument with her mother had bled away their animal desire, replacing it with fear and aggression. "Let's wait," Pete counseled. "Doing it now, just to be able to say we did, defeats the purpose of what we were trying to do. You don't want to remember that the first time you did it mostly to spite your mother." In the background, an unearthly moan of completion poured into the hallway from Jason's office. "Besides, we might have to talk to her again when she's not... indisposed..." "Oh, all right!" Bianca didn't REALLY want to run the risk of her mother changing her mind, but Pete was right. Besides, Mama caved once -- she'd cave again. "When do you want to... ?" "Umm, let's not rush it," Pete murmured. "It'll happen when we're ready." The reality was that Pete was doing serious soul-searching since discovering that Bianca was so young. While he knew that it would be unwise to let on, his ardor had cooled quite a bit. "We can go swimming again tomorrow, or whatever." "Okay, I'll see you then." Bianca reluctantly let him go. There was still some question in her mind whether the golden opportunity had been allowed to slip away or not -- but that had really happened in Mister Jason's office, not out here in the hallway. Sighing, she headed back toward her rooms. ------- Chapter 47: Various Motherly Reactions to Changes in Status "Mama's sure actin' weird," Nate observed. "Well, she's had a tough week," Nora replied. The couple had returned to the Media Room to watch TV, with Leticia in tow. Nate gave Leticia the eye and grunted, "You've had a tough morning." "Yes, Sir," Leticia agreed. "This isn't the end of it, either, Sir. Mr. Wilson has punished me in other ways, and I expect that it will go on for a while." "Well, we're done with ya, for now, anyway. I guess you can go do whatever else y'all oughta be doing." Nate waved her away and Leticia backed out of the couple's presence. "Oooo, Mister Magnanimous!" Nora giggled. "Yeh, well, I'll harrass her ass when your Daddy seems to want it, but it ain't a full time job, or even a whole lot of fun," Nate replied. "Let's cuddle up and watch the tube." ------- Elsewhere, another couple was 'watching the tube'. Toby had arrived at Erin's and the pair were on the couch, channel-surfing while they awaited Erin's mother's departure for work. Caitlin kept an eye on them whenever possible, but they were keeping things pretty innocuous. Finally, she had to leave -- but Toby and Erin suddenly didn't seem to require heavy petting; Erin merely snuggled up tight to Toby on the couch while they watched whatever suited them. The seed Toby planted with his mother bore odd fruit for Randall. The phone rang at the Braithewaite home, and Jean answered it, "Hello? Oh, hi, Penny. What's new?" "Toby seeing girls, apparently," Penny Brillstein replied. "Has Randall mentioned it?" "No, Randall hasn't mentioned Toby and girls in the same sentence in some time," Jean replied -- but then Peter got her attention. "Hang on a second, will you?" Peter looked up. "What's this about Toby and girls?" he asked. "I'm not sure yet," Jean replied. "Toby claims to have a girlfriend, I guess." "Well, I gather that the Astronomy Club is suddenly co-ed," Peter replied, "and if Toby is sporting a girlfriend, he's not the only one." "Oh? Who else?" Jean asked. Peter just eyed her until the light dawned. "Oh! Penny, I'll get back to you -- apparently, there may be some truth to the tale. I'll let you know..." There were hurried goodbyes, and Jean cradled the phone. "Randall is seeing a girl? I need to talk to him -- the games some of them play are just evil..." Jean headed for the stairs. Boys like Randall -- well, girls had little use for them, in general, except as a butt of humor. The fact that she'd dated Peter on a bet with a sorority sister was a guilty secret that she carried with her always. Poor Randall -- obviously, he was being set up in some manner... Bursting into his room, Jean found her son stretched out on his bed in his underwear. "What's this I hear that you're seeing a girl?" "Mom!" Randall snatched a corner of the comforter over his underclothes, then gathered his wits for a reply. "It's about time, isn't it?" "Well, maybe, but people can be cruel. How long has this been going on?" Randall thought about it. "About a week." "Is there some event coming up? I know you've seen all of those movies where somebody gets dumped on by somebody out to win a bet or something..." Jean pressed. "No. No events. I'm pretty sure this is on the up and up," Randall replied carefully. "Well, I'm just concerned that some girl might lead you on and then hurt you -- or make big promises -- you know." Randall shrugged. "Thus far, things are pretty good. No one has made any commitments they couldn't back up. This thing is new to both of us, so we're being careful..." '... Even if we're NOT going slow, ' he added mentally. Jean was skeptical. "So, do I know this person?" "Yeah. Actually, you do. It's Darla Jean." "The Nevins girl? She's quite a tomboy..." Not tremendous looking, either, as Jean remembered. A scrawny redhead who dressed in boys' clothes -- Jean remembered her from several years before, when the division between male and female was primarily an issue of childish silliness. She'd been a partner for intellectual pursuits, at that point, and the female thing had been largely ignored, since she'd basically presented herself as one of the boys. That had been pre-puberty, though -- Darla Jean had drifted out of sight when the boys had started noticing girls as something other than a nuisance; she could have drifted in any direction in the years since... Still, what were the chances that she was really up to Randall's standard? Not that finding a girl who was both willing to date him AND worthy of him was going to be easy... Randall grinned. "She's filled out a little, and discovered that she's a girl. It'll be all right. Actually, we're pretty well matched." "Well, maybe. But there's more to life than chess, you know. Or astronomy." "Uh huh. I'm aware. We both are," Randall insisted. Jean knew that Randall was; she'd been discovering the evidence of his autoerotic stress relief for years, despite his careful efforts at cleanup. But Darla Jean hadn't ever presented herself as anything resembling a sexual being, never mind something of a class that could handle Randall, if he was anything like his father. "Well, I'd hate for you to settle for someone who might be a disappointment in some areas, just because." "That's, uh, not an issue," Randall replied, then abruptly shut up when his mother blinked in surprise. 'Oh, shit!' he thought. "Does that mean what I THINK it means?" Jean asked. "Uuh, yeah, I guess it does," Randall admitted. Jean pondered this development. Earlier fears that he might be being used gave way to new fears over promiscuity, diseases, pregnancy... Was this a good thing, or a bad one? She started cautiously, "Are you using protection?" Randall's answer wasn't encouraging. "Well, Darla Jean is on the Pill..." of course, she'd only been on it for a couple of days, and they were having sex like they knew it was already fully effective -- which was NOT the case. "What about diseases?" Jean pressed. "Um, we're each other's first," Randall temporized. Unfortunately, they were neither the last nor the only, in either case... "You're sure?" "Positive." Well, it was easier to tell, with a girl... Still... "Even if you consider this to be a committed relationship, it may not stay that way." "Mom, neither of us is a COMPLETE idiot," Randall groused. "We've discussed... contingencies. Open communication is big." "What does THAT mean?" "We promised to be honest with each other if... something else... came along," Randall said carefully. "That's very... adult... of you," Jean replied, "but what about hurt feelings?" "Um, there's kind of a 'hold blameless' clause," Randall replied. "So is this a relationship, or something else?" Jean asked skeptically. "We're being real careful," Randall replied. "Neither of us is the 'put all of your eggs in one basket' type. But things are off to a great start." "I guess," Jean grunted, "if you're having sex." "There are other dimensions," Randall said defensively. "Darla Jean is VERY sharp -- a great partner. She isn't some dumb bimbo who doesn't understand what I'm up to and couldn't care less." "Well, okay," Jean grunted, thinking, 'Like I have a choice... ' "Is Toby suddenly collecting girls, too?" "Very suddenly," Randall grinned. "We sicced Erin McGrath on him yesterday afternoon so he'd get tied up and be unable to go to the astronomy Club meeting. Things went pretty well, apparently." "Isn't Erin, um, 'loose'?" Randall thought about it. "I don't think it's as bad as advertised. She's a little slow, and it got her one high-profile run-in, and she's been stuck with the reputation ever since. While she's not above having sex on the first date, it would be because she thought things were going well, not because she's a... slut." He eyed his mother to see how THAT word went over. Jean flinched, but took it without comment. "Toby says they didn't get any further than heavy petting last night -- and he was good with that." "Apparently they're seeing each other today," Jean revealed. "What do you figure is going to happen?" "Mom, what are you asking me?" Randall exclaimed. "Do I think they'll have sex? Yeah. Soon, if Toby doesn't get stupid and Erin is comfortable with things. After that, anything can happen; if it's good, they'll probably be a couple for a while. If not, it'll be over." He eyed his mother, then added, "Both of them have sex on their minds -- and they're both old enough that interference from Toby's mom will just drive them underground." Jean smiled grimly. "Pandora's box is already open, isn't it?" "Yes, it is," Randall agreed -- and the emphasis that went with it said that the statement applied as much to himself as to Toby. "So what are your plans for the day?" Jean asked. "Nothing solid. I need a nap." "Busy night?" Jean needled. "Mom, do you REALLY want to know?" Randall pushed back. "I guess not," she temporized. "I'll wake you in a couple of hours." She let herself out. Time to make a phone call... ------- Phone calls and parental interference were apparently the order of the day; Frieda Frick got a very unsettling dose when HER phone rang. "Hello?" "Mrs. Frick? This is Irma Nally, Mary's mother." "Hello..." Irma leapt right in, "I'm calling to inform you that your son is having sex with my daughter!" "Oh, my!" Teddy was doing 'that'? Already? But he was only -- what -- almost eighteen? "Oh, my, is right!" Irma pressed. "That's not the half of it! Twice, I've caught him in bed with her with another boy present!" "My goodness!" Frieda felt faint! That sounded distinctly wild -- not her little boy at all! "Are you sure it's Teddy?" "Positive." Given a moment to regroup, Frieda asked, "What are you doing about it?" "For a start, I'm calling you!" Irma retorted. "Why?" Frieda shot back. "From the sound of things, your daughter..." Frieda let that trail off before she said something specifically insulting and tried again, "My Teddy wouldn't take an active role in such a thing -- he'd have to have been... encouraged..." THIS wasn't going well. The real irritation was that Irma knew that Teddy's mother was right -- having met Teddy, Irma would've been willing to bet that the only way Mary was going to have sex with him was if she held him down, undressed him, got him erect somehow despite his fear, and mounted him! But her eyes had taken in different... "Be that as it may, I felt you should know, so you can take appropriate action," Irma huffed. "Thank you," Frieda said faintly. "My real concern is the other boy," Irma related. "He's... black..." "Oh, my!" Frieda considered herself to be a twenty-first century woman, but this kind of direct challenge to her belief structure took her aback. "Uh huh," Irma grunted fatuously, pleased at the success of the attack. "God knows how HE figures in things! He's probably directing these... perversions!" Frieda frowned. Anyone who talked with her for more than a minute knew that Mary was 'worldly' -- and, frankly, that was the only type of woman Frieda saw her son ever entering into a relationship with. The black boy was an oddity, something that Frieda couldn't quite make fit into the puzzle, but her initial shock had dissipated. Besides, Mary was unfortunately heavy, and you saw her type with black men all of the time! Once again, the only person apparently indicted for anything was Mary. "I'll... speak to him about it." "See that you do!" Irma hung up, satisfied that she'd undoubtedly rocked the boat for Mary and her pervert boyfriends. "Theodore!" Teddy's name was Teddy, not Theodore -- but an early childhood convention had set the precedent -- when his mother called him Theodore, he was in trouble! Teddy, who'd arrived from Mary's after dropping off Stick (in broad daylight) had crashed for a nap after his bout of sexual Olympics the night before. Now, he struggled up, rubbing his face, "Ma?" "That Nally girl's mother just called -- and she says you're having sex! What do you have to say for yourself?" Ma was standing there with her hands on her hips, glowering down at him. "I--I, we--" Teddy was in no shape for an inquisition. Mary's mother had called Ma? God, what ELSE was out? "Yeah." Teddy hung his head. "Whatever were you thinking? The girl's own mother admits she's a slut -- why can't you date nice girls?" Ma's idea of a nice girl was this vague image of someone who wouldn't compete with her and didn't know what sex was -- some idealized creature who would let him live at home... "Ma, I don't think there are any girls out there who would meet your standards -- and if there WERE, they wouldn't want anything to do with me! Besides, Mary isn't a slut!" "Why wouldn't they? You're a wonderful boy! Or at least you were..." Ma gave him the fish eye. "And of course she's a slut -- I hear she was taking on another boy with you there!" "Ma! You don't know anything about it!" "Irma Nally does, and she says her daughter is having sex with you and another boy! That isn't being a slut? What about that other girl, Nora something?" "Nora has a boyfriend, Ma. Girls don't take me seriously. Heck, I have trouble getting BOYS to take me seriously!" Teddy grumbled. "Well, I guess this other boy doesn't take you seriously if he's having sex with Mary while you're there!" Frieda exclaimed. "Actually, he takes me VERY seriously!" Teddy shot back. "More seriously than just about anybody -- except Mary!" "Right." Her poor boy; he was so small, so fragile. "It's really considerate of him to try to take your girls away..." "That isn't how it is! We SHARE Mary! And Stick is considerate in... other ways..." Holy shit! Better watch the mouth! Too late! Frieda pounced. "What other ways? What on Earth can a young black boy do for YOU?" "We're... friends..." Teddy got out. "Since when? How come I've never seen him? Is he in the Chess Club? The Astronomy Club? And by the way, WAS there an Astronomy Club meeting last night?" Oh, boy -- THIS was going downhill FAST! "Umm, since the Prom. It's a new thing. No, he's not in the clubs -- but he went with me last night -- and there WAS a meeting!" "So, no clubs. So what do you have in common? What does he do for you that is so worthwhile that you SHARE a girl? What did he do at the Prom that made you such fast friends?" "Ummm, he sorta protects me from people. Sticks up for me. Prom Night, he sorta protected me from Mary -- she can be kinda overwhelming..." "So, he's your bodyguard? And you pay him off in sex with Mary?" "No, no, it's not like that!" Teddy protested. "We all have a relationship! We each get something from the others!" "And what do you get from this... Dick?" "Stick, Ma. Stick Williams." "Stick? That's his real name?" "It's all anybody ever calls him..." "Sounds like some kind of hood," Frieda grunted. "So, what do you get from him? What do the two of you have in common except sex?" Teddy got mad. "Nothing, I guess." "So what do you two do when you're not having sex with Mary?" "What a lot of Mama's boys do, I guess," Teddy rasped. Frieda blanched. Teddy didn't take that tone with her; he was a good boy! And the 'mama's boy' comment had something ugly sticking to the underside; if she took it up, God knew what would surface! "You're not a mama's boy!" "Yes, Ma, I'm a mama's boy!" Teddy returned. The cat was out of the bag; he might as well go for broke! "And girls ignore mama's boys -- or treat them as one of the girls -- unless they're looking for someone to control! And guys do the same thing, after their fashion -- either they beat the snot out of you or they ignore you -- or they treat you like one of the girls..." There it was again, that ugly thing, lurking. Teddy was totally out of control; whatever it was that was eating him she was going to hear it, now! "So..." "So we have SEX, Ma! Stick and I have sex!" Teddy shrieked. "You... Oh, God!" Frieda's face collapsed. "You're gay?" The worst of it was the complete lack of surprise, once she got past the denial... "What?" Teddy was deep in the sway of pent-up emotion. "I dunno! I THOUGHT I was -- but it's good with Mary..." "Then you're not!" It's all a bad dream, then... "Well, it's good with Stick, too!" "Oh." Frieda sat down -- or maybe collapsed -- in the only chair in the room. She sat there, silent, while Teddy wound down. After a bit, Teddy took in his mother's slumped state in her chair. Obviously, she was blaming herself. "It's okay, really." "Maybe you're just confused," Frieda offered. "You probably haven't tried... everything..." "Maybe not everything," Teddy agreed. "Some things I don't seem to be built to do." "Sorry?" Frieda looked up, puzzled. "I'm... built funny." Teddy cocked his head. This, finally, was the 'sex talk'; it'd never come up before -- Ma couldn't seem to approach it. She hadn't seen him naked since he was ten, probably. "Are you sure you want to get into this?" "It seems like we're too late, but I can try." Built funny? He was probably embarrassed because it was little... "Just because you're not huge... It grows, you know." Frieda's late husband hadn't been gifted in that department, but they made due with what he had. Besides, it had worked just fine; the boy standing before her was living proof. "Yeah, I know. Mine's... different, though. I've seen a few, and mine... Well, it makes some things hard to do." Frieda's face got quizzical. "Like what?" "Like normal sex with girls. And some other things." "I don't understand, Honey. It gets stiff, right?" 'God, I can't believe we're having this conversation... ' "Yeah, it gets stiff -- and it gets thick, too -- too thick, maybe." Frieda shook her head. "I don't see how it could be anything too abnormal..." "Well, it is. Everybody says so!" Teddy insisted. "Everybody?" "Well everyone who's seen it. Girls are nice about it, but they don't exactly line up to get it..." Frieda shook her head. What were other kids filling poor Teddy's head with? "Well, Mary does, right?" She couldn't believe that she was bringing THAT up! Given the alternatives, though... "Well, yeah, but she needs a warm up." Teddy grinned despite himself. "That's one of the things Stick helps with." "I don't understand. You're not making a lot of sense." "Look, I don't know of any good way to explain it -- look, can I show you?" Was this going too far? Given the fact that Teddy already apparently thought he was gay, maybe it wasn't far enough... "If you think it'll help, Sweetheart." Frieda couldn't imagine what kind of issue Teddy thought he had. "Okay, I've got to get it to grow -- you wouldn't notice it like this..." Teddy spun around and began rummaging around in his sweats, thinking, 'IF I can get it up with Ma sitting there... ' It turned out that it wasn't a problem, after all; like most boys, Teddy had filled the occasional masturbation session with maternal fantasies -- in fact, given his limited access to females and the fact that her matronly form included a pair of sizeable breasts that weren't always adequately fettered, he'd spent a lot of time dreaming of a situation with at least some similarity to this one. In any case, his little soldier went right to attention. "Okay, THIS is the problem," he announced, turning to face his mother and lowering his sweatpants. Frieda's eyes bulged. "Oh, my!" The mushroom head of Teddy's... thing... was the size of half a tennis ball! "That's... amazing!" "Well, maybe, but it's tough to get in a girl," Teddy replied. "Stick says I'll never get a virgin with it." "Well, girls DO stretch..." Frieda hazarded. "Yeah. Mary does, but we have to work at it." "So," Frieda gingerly took up the challenge, "if normal sex with a girl is difficult, what isn't?" Teddy eyed his mother for a moment. She really wasn't going to want to hear what was coming, but she was giving him a chance to get it out, anyway... How to put this, so it didn't offend Ma's ears too much? "Well, oral sex seems to work pretty well, all around." That went over okay, so he added, "Stick isn't really into it, but he'll do it -- and it doesn't seem to bother Mary, except that I cum a lot." "Oh." Frieda shifted her attention to the pair of fat, heavy- looking balls hanging below Teddy's odd penis. "We should probably get you roomier underwear -- don't your briefs bind you?" "Yeah, sometimes." "Why didn't you say anything?" "I couldn't really talk about it, either." Frieda eyed the exposed display. "Now that I think about it, you probably got some of your equipment from your Grandpa Peterman." 'That would explain some of the comments Mama used to make about being able to give birth to twins and the smile she always had whenever the conversation approached the subject of sex, however obliquely -- and maybe that weird reference to 'fisting', whatever THAT was... ' Frieda mused. Her mother had been 'robust', too -- and had pumped out four girls (including the twins) and a boy before Papa did something and the baby making stopped. Certainly, Teddy's father, God rest his soul, didn't contribute much to that display; he'd been, well, small -- but very hard... Frieda, who had never had anyone else, had always been a bit confused as to why everybody went on and on about sex... "I've only seen your father, and he wasn't... big. How odd is this?" She waved a hand at Teddy's equipment. "Well, usually, they're longer," Teddy replied, embarrassed. "An inch or so, anyway, sometimes by several inches. And usually they're thicker through here..." He fingered his shaft. "That's your father's contribution, I'm afraid," Frieda murmured. "But the head is oversize," Teddy staggered on, "Maybe twice as big as normal -- from what I've seen." Frieda gathered herself. "So, Mary... sucks you. And Stick does, too..." She waved for him to pull up his pants. Teddy saw where she was going, "And I do them. Both. In fact, that's how Stick and I got together -- I sucked him off at a glory hole." Frieda's pinched expression said she'd gotten too much information, but she gamely asked, "Glory hole?" "Um, yeah. It's a waist-high hole, usually in the wall between two stalls in a public Men's Room or sometimes between two little video viewing rooms in adult book stores called peep booths -- no, I've never been in one, I've just heard of them. Anyway, you stick... yourself... through the hole and the person on the other side sucks you. You don't see each other, so it's anonymous sex." "Oh." Frieda absorbed this for a moment. "If it's anonymous, how did Stick find you?" Teddy grinned. "That's where Mary enters the story. She caught us both coming out of the Men's Room with funny looks on our faces, added two and two, and blackmailed us into going to her place." "So, you weren't drunk Prom night? It was just an excuse?" Frieda frowned. "I was drunk all right -- on one beer. I was scared sh--, uh, stiff, so Mary gave me a beer. I took it to the bathroom and drank it, real fast. I was loopy when I came out, but my worst fears were realized, anyway -- Mary had outed me to Stick. But she'd covered me, too, threatening to out Stick if he did anything stupid." "Okaaaay..." Frieda pondered a moment. "What did Mary get out of it?" "Well, I was off and on scared of Mary, because she had an agenda. She wanted a boyfriend, and she knew too much. She's invited a couple of guys up to her room, and then tried to tie them down afterward -- and she ALREADY had blackmail material on me..." He sighed. "Anyway, what Mary wanted was a tryout, preferably more than once, by each of us. She figured that if we both were with her a few times, one of us might get interested -- and since there were two of us, we could kind of keep her from getting all grabby over one of us." He grinned fondly. "It worked, too -- on both of us. Neither of us had ever had a girl, and Stick's experience with gay stuff was limited to that one time with me, so it was a chance for everybody to compare..." Frieda picked up on what hadn't been said, "Stick wasn't your first." "No," Teddy agreed, eyeing his feet. "There were a couple of others. Enough for me to know that I liked it." Frieda gathered herself. "What else have you done?" Teddy looked up. "The other thing. I've done the behind thing a couple of times, with Stick." Frieda shuddered. "You on him? Or..." "Him on me. That's another thing I can't do. Besides, Stick is REALLY skinny -- that's why they call him Stick. He couldn't take it, even if he wanted to, which he doesn't. But I can -- and I like it." "What about Mary?" "What about... ? Oh, there? Well, it's possible, I guess -- and she might be willing, but it's quite a stretch. But the regular way is pretty good, once we get going." Tears were streaming down Frieda's face, but she stood and gathered her son in for a hug. "I know enough to realize that you can't just wish this kind of thing away, so I'll learn to live with it. Is everything okay?" "Yes, Ma -- it's good, actually. We're like a couple, only there are three of us. The worst part is the embarrassing explanations." "I imagine so!" "Well, I think the worst one is behind me, now..." "Who else knows?" Frieda asked. Was Teddy exposed? Was he taking a lot of abuse? "Well, most of my close friends, and Mary's -- and a couple of Stick's closest friends that are in our group. Most of Stick's friends wouldn't be forgiving, so we pretend that he's pimping Mary to me for favors like rides to school. It keeps most people from asking embarrassing questions..." "It can't be pleasant for you or Mary..." "We don't mind. Our friends all know and understand, but Sticks wouldn't. Still, it's gonna come out, sooner or later. It's a storm we'll have to weather." "Well, I'm here if you need me. Perhaps I should meet Stick..." "If you want." Teddy was surprised; he didn't expect Ma to take it all very well. "I need to learn to deal with reality, Sweetheart, and if this is how it is..." Frieda squeezed her son. "Thanks, Ma." Teddy squeezed back. Then he leaned back, "What about Mary?" "She's welcome, too, of course -- but I've met her, at least." She frowned. "Why do you think her mother is going to such lengths to slander her?" "She wants to break us up," Teddy replied. "Mary's dad is cool, but her mom is up in arms." "Why?" "Well, partly, it's the threesome thing -- but mostly, it's Stick. She has this racist thing..." "Oh. Bad." "The good news is that Stick's folks already have a slanted version of the story, so if she were to call them, it wouldn't do any good." Teddy grinned. "Slanted?" "They think he's pimping Mary to me." "Ah. Well, you all can at least meet here. I don't know if I'm comfortable about sex, but I won't harass you." "Thanks, Ma." ------- This, of course, led to another phone call... "Mary?" "Teddy? Hi, Hon. Forget something?" "No. We've got trouble. Your Ma called my Ma and told her we were sleeping together -- and she mentioned Stick." "Oh, shit! Are you okay?" "Well, it kind of cleared the air, actually. I told Ma. Everything." "Everything?" Mary was aghast. "Everything. Well, I left out some details, but she pretty much has it all." "Are you okay?" "Yeah. She wasn't thrilled, but I don't think she was THAT surprised, either. We're cool. We're ALL cool, at my house -- although I don't think Ma is gonna want to put up with us doing stuff..." "Well, I'm grounded, anyway, at least until Pop gets home. Mom probably hit me up right after she lit into your Ma." Mary grumbled. "Better call Stick and warn him." "Okay. I figure, though, it won't be a problem -- his folks already know the slanted version, and your Mom doesn't know the parts that would get him into trouble." "Yeah, that's right. I'd warn him, anyway, Hon." "Okay. Let me know when you've been freed!" "Sure. Bye, Hon." "Bye, Mary." ------- On to the next call: "Stick, you gotta phone call!" Rose Williams yelled down the hallway. "Awright!" Stick clambered up off the couch; he wasn't sleeping well, anyway, with the twins raising Hell. "Yeh?" "Stick?" "Ted?" "Uh huh. Look, I'm calling to tell you that Mary's Ma called mine and tried to get me in trouble -- so she might try you, too." "Shit." "Yeah. Mary's grounded, too, although she expects that her Dad is gonna overrule her Mom." "That's gonna make life fun 'round her place." "Yeah, but we've got a fall-back. My place." "Huh? What's yo' Mama gonna say 'bout that?" Stick was amazed! "Well, you can pretty much figure that we had a looooong talk... In fact, we had THE talk -- and Ma's... cool with the whole thing." "Everything?" "Everything. In fact, she wants to meet you. Want to come over tomorrow and hang out?" "Shit, I guess! Better than listening to my twin brothers tearin' up the place!" Stick enthused. "Okay, one o'clock? We can watch football or something." "Cool. You're SURE it's okay?" "Well, Ma isn't much into sex at any level, so..." "Gotcha. Okay, you comin' by, then?" "Sure. About one." " 'Kay. Later, Ted." "Later." ------- The next call was totally unrelated: Helene Bryant picked up her kitchen phone, "Hullo?" "Is Louise there?" a male voice asked. "Who wants to know? Is this the boy with the pickup from yesterday?" "Well, yes..." "My daughter is a God-fearing girl! I won't have the likes of YOU ruining her virtue, do you hear me?" "Well, okay..." Dwayne was nonplussed. What had they done, in sight of the house? Had Louise's mother given her the third degree and heard about that bit of necking they'd done at the park? "Can I talk to her?" "No!" Helene slammed the phone down. Then she went off to rant at poor Louise. THAT call led to THIS call: "Rob?" "Dude! So, how does little Louise look in the morning?" Rob Graham was feeling pretty pleased with himself; Mary Eikenberry had spent the night spooned against him in bed and his mother had been routed in her attempt to abuse his new girlfriend. "Well, Louise is cuter than I ever expected, but her Mom's a psycho bitch -- some kind of born-again man-hater! I tried calling Louise to set up our date tonight and she answered the phone. I got this rant about how I wasn't getting into Louise's pants and she hung up on me!" "Man, THAT sucks! So..." "Well, guys aren't gonna get a call in there, obviously. Could you get Mary to run interference for me? Pass Louise my phone number, and see if the coast is clear?" Dwayne asked. "Sure. Give me a minute. I'll have her call you. If she can't, I'll call you back, ok?" "Great! Thanks for the assist, Man!" "No problem." Mary was working hard at NOT explaining to her mother where she had spent the night when Rob called. The look on her face when she answered and said, "Hi, Rob," however, gave the game away. Kimberley Eikenberry knew well who Rob Graham was, and was well aware that Mary had been meeting him here and there for a couple of weeks; Mary's glow said that things had escalated well beyond the 'just friends' stage. Rob was a catch; the question was, had Mary caught him, or was she just another number on the tote board for Rob, whose reputation was ALSO known to Kimberley. This wasn't the moment to ask THOSE questions, however, so Kimberley bided her time... "Hi, Babe," Rob's voice smiled. "Hey, you need to baby-sit your matchmaking project." "Oh?" "Yeah. Dwayne called. Louise's mother went all psycho-bitch on him over the phone. Dwayne doesn't know which end is up, and he can't get to Louise. Wanna give her a call, pass Dwayne's number, and help her get out of the house?" "Sure, Sweetheart. It's the least I can do! Let me get a pen..." She scrawled Dwayne's number on some scratch paper by the phone. "Am I going to see you tonight?" "Well, I don't particularly want to stay home and watch Mother sulk... How about a movie?" "We don't have to go out..." "And you don't have to be insatiable, either, Babe. Let's work on the other pieces; you've got that one down pat." "Compliments will get you an extra helping..." "Which I'll greedily accept -- but we need to do the other thing, too, in order to put a BUNCH of people in their places. I'll be by about six." "I'll be ready. Love you!" 'Oops! It slipped out!' "I love you, too, Babe. Bye! Don't forget poor Dwayne!" Mary turned around to discover, belatedly, that her mother hadn't gone elsewhere in the interim. "So, the Graham charm is on, full force!" Kimberley simpered. "Don't you think it's a bit early for the 'L' word? You could be on your way to the trash bin!" "Well, I've exceeded the usual shelf-life of Rob's girlfriends by about a week, and I met his mother last night..." Mary replied. The contents of that meeting were something best swept under the rug, but... "Oh? Anything else you want to tell me? When did you leave Rob's?" Mary's sister had accidentally selected the wrong girlfriend when generating Mary's alibi; things had already been unraveling, but now there was nothing left but to own up. "A little while ago." "What did Rob's folks think of that?" "Well, his mother wasn't thrilled, but apparently a lot goes on that she doesn't like, and the reason why is because she's kind of two-faced. Rob's Dad..." "... Is a known Lothario. I'm aware." "Well, apparently, that's because Rob's mother is all show," Mary replied. "She's only there for appearances and a meal ticket. Rob can't quite figure how he ever managed to be born, and having met her, I can't either." "Back to YOU!" Kimberley pressed. "How long do you figure Rob is going to hang onto YOU before he dumps you?" "Well, there's never any certainty, but I'm angling for something permanent." "Like Claudette Pinkersley had?" Kimberley scoffed. "How many girls did Rob do behind HER back? It's a wonder she didn't catch something from him..." "Actually, Mom, it would have been surprising if she HAD, since she never slept with him! Claudette is also big on appearances -- that's why he slept around, and that's why she lost him. All she wanted was to be able to say, 'I'm Rob Graham's girl'!" "And you? Are you for sleeping with, or being seen with?" Kimberley pressed. "I manage to combine those functions," Mary replied loftily, "And THAT is how I'm going to keep him!" "Right," her mother scoffed. "When are you going to be seen in public again?" "Tonight," Mary replied. "Rob wants to go to the movies. We'll probably hit Gino's on the way home. Sex isn't on the official agenda." "And the unofficial agenda?" "I like it. He likes it. We'll see." Mary looked at her watch. "Rob asked me to do a little something to expedite a matchmaking project I started a couple of days ago. Can I go ahead with that?" "What does it entail?" "Making a phone call." "Oh, go on, then -- but don't be any too sure you're going anywhere tonight! I should ground you for what I KNOW you did!" Kimberley growled. "Mom! Jeez! I'm eighteen!" "Do you want to be eighteen and pregnant?" "I'm on the Pill!" "Honey, Rob's got to convince me that you're not just the latest member of Bang Nation before I can get happy about all this! Otherwise, it's risky business!" "Yes, Mom." Time to back off. "Besides, you lied to me!" There was no answer for that. Mary gave an embarrassed shrug, and Kimberley waved her away. "Go take care of your business." "Yes, Mom." Sighing, Mary dialed Louise's number. Helene answered the phone, "Bryant residence." "Hi, Miz Bryant, is Louise home?" Mary asked brightly. "Yes," Helene grunted, disappointed that it wasn't Dwayne, "Who is this?" "Mary Eikenberry, a friend from school." "Louise!" Helene screeched, "There's a Mary Berry something on the phone! "Hello?" Louise said faintly, taking the phone. "Mom's on the warpath, huh?" Mary asked. "It's me, Mary Eikenberry." "Oh, Hi, Mary! What's up?" "Well, I'm acting as a go-between. Dwayne told Rob that your mother ranted and raved at him and that he couldn't get to you." "Oh. Yeah, that's true," Louise murmured, glancing around for her mother. "Okay, well, I'm gonna give you Dwayne's number so you can call him, and if you need me I'll alibi you for the movies tonight, okay?" "Great! Thanks a million!" Louise enthused. "Okay, here's my number," Mary rattled it off, "and here's Dwayne's." A second string of numbers followed. "Call him up and get organized, and call me if you need anything, okay?" "Great!" Louise agreed happily. "I may need you to ask..." "No problem. You two agree on the show and the time and let me know, okay?" "Okay!" "Good luck!" "Thanks!" Louise hung up, glanced around again, and dialed Dwayne. "Hullo?" "Hi." "Louise?" "Yes." "Is your mother around?" "Yeah, somewhere," Louise sighed, adding, "I have to be careful." "I can see that!" Dwayne rasped. "She almost took my ear off? Did you tell her anything? She seemed to think we were having sex." "No, that's just the standard reaction. She's real suspicious," Louise related. "No shit. Okay, so, did you look at the movie schedule?" "Yes." "What do you want to see?" "I dunno, whatever you do, I guess." Dwayne rolled his eyes. "How did I know you were going to say that? All right, how about..." He named a current science fiction thriller. "Okay." "Do you like sci-fi?" "Some." Dwayne scratched his head; she'd gone limp again -- but she was good at it and he was hampered by the phone. "Do you like anything else out there better?" "No." There was a romantic comedy on the list, but you didn't make a guy go to a chick flick if you wanted to keep him, did you? Dwayne wasn't buying. "What about..." He named the chick flick. "We could go to that." "Okay, if you want to," Louise answered carefully. Dwayne sighed. "Tell your mother that we're going to that one, anyway. Maybe we'll make the final call at the theater. Okay?" "Yes, D--" "Don't DO that!" Dwayne yelled. "Yes-- Okay." "Okay, how are we gonna do this?" Dwayne asked. "I'll call Mary and finalize things, then walk over to her house. It's only a couple of blocks toward Thames Street..." Something in Louise's voice didn't sound right. "It isn't, really, is it?" "No," Louise agreed. "Okay, so I'm picking you up two blocks over, right?" "Right." "Okay, I'll pick you up at six-fifteen for the six-forty show. Okay?" "Okay!" "See you then -- or call me if it crashes!" "Okay!" "Bye!" "Bye!" Louise dialed Mary back. "We're either going to..." the sci-fi flick, "or" the chick flick. "Either or?" Mary asked. "Well, I don't want to..." Louise started. "... Stand on your own two feet?" Mary finished. "Dwayne's giving you ground and trying to be nice to you. Don't go all floppy on him!" "Well, okay. For our purposes, it'll be..." "I know which one!" Mary cut her off. "Go prime your Mom and hand her the phone. I'll wait." "Mom, Mary's asked me to go to the movies with her tonight," Louise announced. Helene felt that it was her job to be suspicious. "Who's this Mary, and why has she cropped up all of a sudden?" Louise had a tough time keeping friends -- and Helene was a good bit of the reason. "She's a friend from school. We have a couple of classes together and went to the basketball game together." "Hmph. Isn't that where you met that boy? I'll want to talk to her." "She's on the phone." "Hullo. This is Louise's mother. Where are you going?" "To the Cineplex," Mary replied carefully. "We'll be seeing a movie that starts at six-forty." "Are you inviting any boys along?" "We're going to see," Mary filled in the chick flick's title. "What do you think?" "Don't get smart with me!" "Sorry!" "All right. Don't do anything stupid, and have her home at a decent hour!" "Okay. We were looking at going for burgers after -- is eleven okay?" "It'll have to do." Helene handed Louise the phone. "If you screw this one up, there won't be a repeat, understand?" "Yes, Mom." Helene stormed off. She was certain that Louise would be exposed to SOMETHING unwholesome during the evening, but she WAS eighteen. Sooner or later she'd have to do these things on her own. Why couldn't she meet a NICE boy at church? (Of course, Helene killed all of THOSE contacts, too... ) "Okay, I guess we're set," Louise told Mary. "Call me if you need coverage for something specific," Mary warned. "Your Mom's a BITCH! I feel sorry for you! I got you covered for burgers after -- you're good to eleven." "Thanks, Mary. I owe you BIG time!" "I'm glad to help -- you need it! Be good, now, and try not to let Dwayne into your panties tonight -- it's better if they suffer a bit, first." "Gee, when, then?" "The third time's the charm. You can give him good reason to look forward to it, though... Let his hands roam a bit more -- maybe get a feel of it, you know?" Mary looked around; HER mother might take exception to discussions of cocks... "His cock?" "Oh! Okay!" "That's not an instruction, Louise. That's, like, if you feel like it. You need to decide these things for yourself. If it seems like a good idea, go for it; if not, don't. Are you on the Pill?" "Gawd, no! Mom would FREAK!" Belatedly, Louise glanced around to see if the outburst brought a reaction. "Well, then rubbers are ABSOLUTELY REQUIRED! Unless you want to be pregnant! If you draw NO OTHER LINE with Dwayne, he has to know THAT!" Louise sighed. "I hear they suck." "They don't improve things, that's a fact. And, look, you're gonna get urges, and with you, one of them might be the idea that if you got preggers, it'd tie Dwayne down. That's DUMB! That kind of thing doesn't happen any more, and with your Mom, you'll find yourself out on the street! If you want to ride bareback, you're going to have to get contraception! Understand?" "Yeah." Louise's sigh said a number of things. "Look, how old are you?" "Eighteen." "Cool! You can go to the doctor on your own, then!" "That costs money." "So do lots of things." Mary giggled. "If Dwayne wants to ride bareback bad enough, it'll surface..." "You're kidding!" "Well, who benefits?" Mary chided. "I gotta go -- keep me informed!" "Okay, bye!" "What costs money?" Helene's voice sounded behind Louise. Louise jumped a foot! Thinking fast, she responded, "Theater food." That defused things. Helene started ranting and raving about paying ten dollars for popcorn and a soda, eliciting a promise from Louise that she wouldn't waste her money on such things, and the threat dissipated. ------- Howard Silverman stuck his head through the door. "I'm going to go get something to eat -- can I get you anything?" "Where are you going?" The phones were quiet -- Caitlin's usual excuse that things were too busy wouldn't work -- but then Caitlin remembered a recent discussion with her daughter. Howard was balding, and his nose was a little long, but she'd let worse pick her up in bars... Howard met her regard with a look of surprise. Caitlin was looking at him! Usually, she just hunched her shoulders and mumbled about how busy she was, handed him a few bucks, and dismissed him. Today, that look... "Pizza, maybe?" Caitlin liked pizza... Caitlin registered the surprise -- and a couple of other things, in flashes. Hope? Fear? She made up her mind. "Phones are dead. Maybe I'll go along, if you don't mind..." Howard's eyes popped, his throat constricted, and he gasped quietly. "Mind? No, no, not at all!" Caitlin eyed him. It seemed like fourteen expressions had flickered across his face. "You're sure?" "Absolutely!" Howard looked down at his hands. Were they shaking? God, he was going to sweat like a pig! "Do you want your coat?" He was already reaching for it... "I don't know -- do you think it's cold?" "No telling -- I haven't been out since noon." Howard stood there, holding the thing. "Well, since you have it..." Howard pushed it toward her limply, then turned away. "I'll get my hat." Caitlin watched him head back toward Accounting, almost running into things as he staggered up the hallway. Was he really that clumsy? No, she knew better... What was up with him? Howard was bemused. Lightning had struck! Caitlin was in his top five for fantasy women, and she'd just up and invited herself along on what COULD be loosely described as a date! Unbelievable! Well, okay, that might sound odd, but the fact was that Howard didn't HAVE to be in the office on a Saturday -- he was an accountant, and they only worked nine to five during the week. But the closest that Howard came to a social life was at work and temple -- and he HATED going to temple, where all of those hook-nosed spinsters and their mothers salivated over him because he was an accountant. It was... repellant. If a woman was still out there at his age, beauty didn't enter into it -- and the attitude that went with it -- like he was a prize calf at the meat market -- made him shun THAT particular pool. Work, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. For one thing, most of the women there weren't Jewish; for another, at work, he was apparently part of the wallpaper. Why he preferred those dismal prospects was beyond him, but there it was... The pool changed regularly, as customer support and telemarketing, right next door to the accounting department, had heavy turnover. But Howard had poor skills (none, actually); he couldn't understand why a woman would avoid an honest, quiet man and fall into the arms of some boisterous loudmouth with a slimy line -- but it happened all the time... So, there were a couple of executive secretaries, the one girl in shipping (despite her hulking size), the new girl in the back (whose star was waning already -- she was just TOO blonde... ), and Caitlin. Basically, Howard rotated through them about once a week, getting up the guts to offer his services in some innocuous task and hoping. Somewhere in all this ramble, he collected his hat and returned to Caitlin. "Ready?" "Sure." He waved his arm and Caitlin preceded him toward the door, wondering why he was acting so odd -- wasn't this sort of what he wanted? Then she remembered Erin's comment about how smart guys don't always know what they're supposed to do... She added a little wiggle to her step, and Howard, picking it up, admired it. The pants she had on were thin, cottony, and they picked up the jiggle of what might objectively be a bit of a saggy ass and transmitted it as an item of interest. Outside, Howard directed her toward a relatively new BMW -- a surprise, since she'd basically figured he drove an old Ford or something. There were some papers and stuff in the front seat, but he dispensed with them quickly, helped her in and surprised her by closing the door. Caitlin buckled herself in, remembering Erin's comment about how smart guy did things without expecting any return... Things were quiet on the way to the pizza joint; Howard couldn't think of a thing to say, and Caitlin was watching him drive. The guy behind the wheel wasn't the Howard she knew; somehow, he was shifting the car with little levers on the steering wheel while sweeping the car in and out of holes in the traffic in a manner that could only be described as competent and aggressive. Caitlin began to wonder how Howard acted when he was in his element -- whatever that was... They got to the joint and parked, and there was some confusion as Howard appeared at her door just as she was opening it; Caitlin just wasn't used to the trappings of chivalry. But she smiled, and said, "Thank you," and Howard smiled back. Inside, Howard dealt with the waiter, ordering her favorites from memories generated by dozens of trips for take-out, insisting on anchovies, "I don't care for them, but I know that you do..." Caitlin took issue with the idea that he should ruin his pizza for her and got them on the side, wondering whether he'd been picking anchovies off his half of take-out pizza for the past three years... They managed shop talk during the meal, most of it consisting of Caitlin ranting about having to train a succession of idiots how to handle customer service calls. Howard sat and beamed and laughed and seemed to get over his nervousness, to an extent. Prodding him to relate issues with his job hit a brick wall, though. "Nothing I do is that terribly exciting, in first person. It's just juggling numbers. If I save the company a hundred thousand dollars a quarter, it just means that I keep my job..." "Don't people drive you nuts, sometimes?" Caitlin asked. "Managers do. They'll spend ten thousand dollars to go to a seminar on how to save five dollars on office supplies. I work closely with the CIO, because he has problems quantifying the business benefit of IT improvements," Howard grinned. "If I didn't, we'd all be using adding machines -- management around here is hopeless!" "They sure are!" Caitlin related a couple of cautionary tales, and it was time to go. There was a tussle over the check, but when Caitlin realized how important it was to Howard, she gave up and let him pay. Caitlin waited until they were in the car on the way back before she asked the question, "Howard, why on Earth do you work weekends? I know you don't have to..." Howard blanched. "Nothing better to do," he mumbled. "Oh, there must be SOMETHING," Caitlin rejoined. "I haven't been very nice to you, have I? Yet you still come around every few days, and offer to get lunch, or to help with something..." "Have I been too forward?" Howard asked abruptly. Caitlin watched him cringe, obviously castigating himself for going wide open. "Nooo," she murmured thoughtfully, "Maybe not enough..." ------- Chapter 48: The Visit to Rodday's Witherspoon's people began infiltrating Rodday's club around two- thirty; by four o'clock, everyone in the place had an agent in place to neutralize them. When the door opened and Armand, Tabitha, Paul, Scott, and four others walked through the front door, the bouncers and barmaids had no shot at a warning. The guard at Rodday's door made an attempt, but he was double-covered; the female agent who had been engaging him in conversation took him out quietly, and the male standing by made sure he didn't hit the floor any too loudly. Customers were told that if they wanted to leave, they'd end up being sequestered somewhere else for their own protection, so why not have a drink on the house? Nobody left. Video surveillance of the club gave Rodday no warning, either; Armand's agents had sabotaged it with a loop, but Rodday wasn't paying any attention, anyway. At the moment, he was watching Flood and two of his enforcers abuse a couple of his whores who had performed poorly the previous night. Flood was seated in a swivel chair with his cast propped on a desk; the whore was fishing in his sweatpants for his cock, having been told that if she didn't get him off quickly, she would be beaten. Flood was on painkillers, and doubted that he could even get an erection, so the result was a foregone conclusion... Suddenly, the door swung open, and there were eight more people in the room. While his people disarmed and tied Rodday's goon's wrists with plastic cable ties, Armand announced, "Mr. Pinkham, we have a problem." "YOU have a problem," Rodday blustered. "I'll have backup in here any second!" Armand smiled; as usual, it wasn't pleasant. "I doubt that. There are thirty seven of my people in the club and on the grounds, and every one of your known associates is either neutralized or under surveillance." One of the agents made to escort the whores out the door, but Tabitha touched Paul's arm and shook her head. Paul stopped him. "They stay. Untie them." The whores, who would have been just as happy out of the line of fire, went to stand along the far wall. "So what do you want?" Rodday growled. "When we first entered into communication, I assumed that you were sophisticated and had some common sense," Armand said blandly. "Ms. Adams, here, informed you that she had protection, but you ignored her and made her the star of that little epic of yours." Rodday glared at Flood over this particular charge; it had been Flood's responsibility to ensure that Tabitha wasn't just running her mouth, and he'd apparently fucked THAT up. "I considered that to be an honest mistake, but I assumed that my position was clear when we met to discuss it." "I don't let others tell me how to run my business," Rodday grated. "An admirable sentiment." Armand nodded at Flood and Thud Thompson dumped him out of the chair, righted it, and placed it for Armand. Looking over his shoulder at Flood, Thud grunted, "You scream like a girl." There was a general chuckle. Armand continued, "All of us must bow to economic pressures at some point, however. Besides, Ms. Adams is an independent businesswoman." "I thought you just said you were running her?" Rodday grunted. "No, I'm merely her insurance agent," Armand replied blandly. "Unfortunately, I'm seeing repeated claims, and thus must take action to keep from losing money and to properly protect the insured." He gathered himself and glared at Rodday, "Why did you assume that I was not serious at our meeting?" Rodday grunted, "You're not big on the scene around here..." "I'd like to keep it that way, wouldn't you?" Armand reposted. "Well, yeah," Rodday replied, surprised. Armand sat back. "Since then, things haven't gone too well, have they? There was the incident at Ms. Adams' apartment, which I am certain will stick in the memories of some of your employees," he said blandly as his eyes swept over Flood, who had been allowed to arrange himself against the wall. "One of your problems is your lack of an intelligence-gathering apparatus. Do you have any information on the identity of the young woman whom your representative offered to rape during that encounter?" Rodday shrugged. "No." Armand surprised everyone by leaping up and smashing his foot down on Flood's cast four times, once to emphasize each word, "SHE IS MY DAUGHTER!!!" Flood screamed like a banshee and passed out. In the stunned silence that followed, Armand resumed his seat. "As you can see, I take some exception to threats delivered onto my family; still, I believe that I delivered a measured response, don't you?" "Uhhh, yeah." Rodday, who had to date seriously underestimated his opponent, now began to wonder whether he would leave the room alive. "But that didn't stop you from attempting ANOTHER attack on Ms. Adams last night! Tell me, what did you plan to accomplish?" Armand was again all reasonableness. "She recovered too quick from the other thing," Rodday grunted, "and was out thumbing her nose at me! I figured a broken arm might cool things a bit..." Armand nodded. "Your original effort was a masterpiece, except for the unfortunate choice in victims -- which I felt was an honest mistake. But the follow-up has been classic strong-arm tactics without thought behind them -- perhaps I've over-estimated you; what do YOU think?" Rodday thought about it; this shit could get him KILLED! "I think maybe I underestimated YOU. Mebbe I should re-think things a bit..." Armand gave a nod of agreement. "Perhaps. Certainly, you've been your own worst enemy, here..." "Well, I can't afford to have some old whore thumbing her nose at me -- bad for business!" "Well, business has already gone south," Armand replied. "As a result of these little depredations, Ms. Adams must reorganize her business to handle the increased costs involved in protecting herself from unscrupulous competition. Since she would be unable in any case to defray those expenses on her own, she must take on employees to add income. In other words, you have created a serious competitor." "Yeah, right," Rodday sneered. "Ms. Adams won't be streetwalking, however -- you may maintain your exclusive franchise on that; instead, she'll be setting up more comfortable places of business where the customer need not bring along his own facilities and where other services can be provided -- all at a higher price, of course." "Y'all can call me 'Madam'," Tabitha interjected. "Ms. Adams may be posting personnel in popular locations, but they will not be conducting retail business -- merely advertising the competitive product. Your low-end cash-and-carry customers will continue to utilize your staff -- others, more interested in comfort and safety and pleasant surroundings will utilize hers." Armand leaned forward and glared, "You will NOT interfere with Ms. Adams OR her staff, or I will remove any requirement you have to conduct ANY type of business! Are we clear?" "Yeah." Rodday grunted, but he didn't appear to be convinced. Armand eyed him. "You have thus far assumed that my bark is worse than my bite, despite a loud growl and a couple of nips. I recommend that you re-assess the situation, as I have lost patience. Your people have yet to even score against mine -- and mine could have easily left you with embarrassing piles of dead bodies to clean up. The gloves are off. Next time, the consequences will be unsupportable. Do you understand?" "You can't talk to me like that!" "I just did. Now we come to the portion of the entertainment wherein Ms. Adams gets her due..." "Whoa! Whoa! You can't do that!" "He's right, ya know," Tabitha interjected. "If I git mine in front o' witnesses, ya might as well kill him, 'cause he's too fuckin' stupid ta stop..." Armand sighed. "Another object lesson, then. Arrange that pair on the table, there. On their backs. Heads over the edges." The pair in question were Rodday's other two bulls. There was a certain amount of struggle, but the pair were positioned on their backs on a table, one head dangling off either end. "Okay. Ladies," he waved at the pair of whores. "Come over here and divest yourselves of your underclothing, please. We're going to turn the tables a bit, here." The women fearfully stepped out of their panties. "Gentlemen," Armand addressed the pair of thugs on the table, "and I use that term loosely, this is what is going to happen. The ladies here are going to present their genitals for service, which you will accomplish with your tongues." "Shit, I ain't doin' THAT!" one of them roared. "You know where them things have been?" "I'm assuming that they've been cum-dumpsters for the likes of you," Armand murmured blandly. "Nonetheless, you'll do as I ask, I think, for the alternative will be... unpleasant. Ladies, if your chosen partner fails to bring you an orgasm in a reasonable amount of time, my associate, here," (Jason stepped forward, leering evilly as only he could), "will emasculate him." Jason brandished a wicked-looking surgical device. "As for you," Armand addressed the noisemaker, "we can move right to that if you like..." "NOOOOO!!!" "Then I suggest that you shut up and bend some effort to proving that you are capable of pleasuring a woman!" Armand snapped. "I dunno," one of the women murmured. "Ah. Do I detect some concern that Mr. Pinkham might visit some vengeance upon you?" Armand queried. "He won't. Anything that occurs to you will be visited upon him -- with interest. Do you understand?" Armand eyed Rodday. "In fact, he'd better see to it that you're babied, because my people will assume that no little accident that befalls you is coincidental, and will react swiftly. If they make a mistake, well, we'll just put it on account..." "Y'all can come to work for me, Wilma," Tabitha added, "An' I got THIS fer protection!" She took in the room's contents with a wave. Wilma turned to Rodday, who growled, "Yeah, yeah -- you're a pain in the ass anyway! We're done! But you'll have to get your drugs elsewhere..." he added craftily. "Ms. Adams' organization will pay for detox," Armand replied. "Unless you wish to continue drug abuse -- which I guarantee you will interfere with your employment." Tabitha nodded agreement. Wilma eyed Tabitha in disbelief. "I been to parties with you, Tab... You're..." "Clean," Armand interrupted. "and likely to stay that way, in the main, given the decrease in her personal safety if she doesn't." Tabitha's eyebrows shot up, but she nodded. "Awright," Wilma replied. "But I'm hard to get off..." "Well, this is for you, remember, not a customer. Enjoy yourself!" Armand urged. "How long?" the other woman piped up, sidling up and exposing herself to a tongue. "Let's just say that I don't want to get bored," Armand replied. "Tabitha?" He picked up Rodday with his eyes. "Nah. We've already discussed it. Push him too hard, an' he'll get stupid." "Getting stupid would be severely career-limiting for him," Armand replied. "His troops have borne the brunt of past failures, and I'm uncertain that he has a visceral understanding of his position. I think that he needs some... personal reminder of this visit." "I wanna use them on the bastid," Tabitha growled, glaring and waving at the emasculators, "but he'd jus' kill hisself tryin' ta git even! I gotta live wit' him as a competitor, even if I don' hafta be scared o' him. Le's not set him up ta get dead." Armand glared at Rodday. "Remember who your benefactor is; I still have a matter to settle with you over your attempted attack on my daughter! Only Ms. Adams' concern over your goodwill protects you here..." In the background, one of the whores moaned in pleasure. Tabitha turned an amused glance on the women. "Don' be shy! Git yourself off! Do what ya hafta! An' if you boys wanna keep your balls, y'all better be workin' it!" Armand waved her over, grinning, and Tabitha started shucking the trousers off one of the hoods with practiced hands. "Well, lookit that! I wonder how big THAT gets when it's stiff?" She started jacking the shaft of a decently-sized black cock, which rose to something over seven inches. "I wonder if it'll still get stiff after them balls come off?" She fondled the heavy testicles in their fat sack. "Sure will be a shame, makin' a eunuch outta THIS stud!" The victim's tonguing became frantic; the recipient, (Wilma) began to pant and rub her breasts. Tabitha circled the table and undid the pants of the other victim, who thrashed to the point that one of Armand's men had to pin him to the table. "Damn, boy! It ain't like you got as much ta lose!" Tabitha chided. Fear was obviously at work on this one; his cock was shrunken and limp in Tabitha's grasp, even after a bit of manipulation. "Mebbe you oughta be suckin' cocks!" The whore being serviced, one 'Bunny', leaned over at that point and braced her hands on the hood's upper thighs, gasping; apparently, his efforts were bearing fruit. "Good tongue, Hon? Mebbe we oughta hire him ta cunt-lap female customers after he's cut..." This went on for a good ten minutes; even Wilma was showing signs of arousal, and Bunny finished once, Tabitha making a running commentary on the horrors of turning men into eunuchs the entire time. Armand looked around, "I'm getting bored. Wake up Flood." Paul poured water on Flood's face, and the big black sputtered and opened his eyes. "Welcome back," Armand smiled sardonically. "Put him up on the table; Put that one (the hood who had succeeded with Bunny) on the floor. You (Bunny) can continue to use him -- just kneel over him." Two agents wrestled the hood off the table and replaced him with Flood; Bunny, who was getting off on more than one dimension of the current party, knelt over her victim and started rubbing herself off on his face and tongue. Armand came to stand over Flood. "How long have you been awake?" he asked. "I--" "That long, huh?" Turning to Jason, he added, "Cut him." Jason stepped in, wielding the cutters. Flood screamed bloody murder as the cutters bit into his scrotum, and wailed and moaned afterward. Armand, watching blandly, remarked, "If you had indeed raped my daughter, I'd have cut off your cock; be happy that you still have some of what you had..." Turning to Rodday, he announced, "We'll be leaving now. The next visit won't be as pleasant." Turning to Wilma and Bunny, he added, "Ladies, it might be sensible for you to accompany us." Finally, he turned to Paul, "Take them out. Painfully." Glancing at Thud Thompson, he said, "Thud," and nodded at Rodday. Rodday never knew what hit him, but the others did. There were several broken bones before it was all over -- but Armand and everyone but the heavy hitters were long gone. Outside, Armand remarked to Jason, "I wonder how long it will take Flood to discover that you DIDN'T emasculate him... Perhaps we'll clue in Rodday by telephone tomorrow so that he doesn't stew too much..." Howard Silverman was a wreck! Caitlin's remark about his not being forward enough had effectively silenced conversation; Howard had no idea how to proceed from there, so nothing happened on the drive back. Now, two hours later, Howard was alternating between pacing his office and sitting behind his desk in a funk. Obviously, there was a major opportunity of some type here -- and he was letting it slip away due to a total inability to develop a coherent strategy! Objectively, he couldn't really figure out what the draw was; Caitlin was thin, a little bowlegged, knobby kneed, and she had those tits that seemed to kind of be sliding down her chest. The face was a mixed bag, too -- the nose was good, but the teeth weren't, the eyes were nice, but the hair was kind of thin, if dirty blonde. She was only a little more robust than the fragile bird type -- which wasn't hard to find at temple. On the other hand, the fragile bird type tended to be high-strung, among their other issues, and Caitlin appeared to be pretty placid in temperament. Also in the good news column was that even though she'd apparently borne a daughter (from the picture on her desk -- Howard had never been able to ask her about it), she hadn't spread to half her height -- something ELSE easily found at temple, among other places. Howard HAD a heavy housefrau of a mother, and it had taken him until he was twenty-five to escape from home; another mother was something he DIDN'T want. Maybe it was sex -- the grapevine said Caitlin liked to go out and enjoy herself, and occasionally took a lover, although she never went out with anyone from work, so it was just hearsay. That information made her appear available, which could be a major source of hope. Howard's sex life consisted of an occasional depressing cash-and-carry run-in with a hooker punctuating long periods of dating his right hand. He'd tried gay sex briefly at one point, but his looks and personality led others to think he was a bottom, and he wasn't -- blowjobs were great only as long as he was on the receiving end, and FORGET the other thing... He had a substantial collection of porn and was always surprised at the variety of women who could be induced to have wild sex in front of a camera -- but the vast majority seemed to be some boring variation on big-breasted bleach blondes -- the same type that exploded to twice their original size after a pregnancy. Howard had deliberately taken to hunting the racks at the local porn shop for movies that featured other ethnic groups -- blacks, Hispanics -- even just women who were brunette and apparently proud of it -- for the variety involved, rather than any real interest in dating women of other races. Howard's boredom might have been a down-check for Caitlin, except for three things: She was real, the hair was undoubtedly NOT a bleach job, and, as previously mentioned, she had NOT exploded after childbirth. Reality was a big thing; Howard knew well the difference between reality and fantasy -- he did a lot better in the latter arena. But there was something else about Caitlin, something that it took a while to get a grip on; as far as Howard could tell, it was best defined as independence. Caitlin wasn't marketing herself for a husband, even passively; she was doing her own thing, and had been for some time, and she appeared to like it that way. This was a refreshing change from the general run of women that Howard was exposed to; either they were ALREADY married and making their husband miserable, or they were riding hard after anything that appeared to be both male and reasonably successful. Discussions with his male friends suggested that the price they paid for sex was too high; the occasional roll with a partner who was aging as rapidly as they were was paid for with responsibility, children, mounting bills, and the expenses that come with keeping up appearances. Howard probably got as much and as good from hookers, to hear them tell it -- and he didn't have to put up with what went on for the other twenty-three hours and forty-five minutes. Caitlin also had a refreshing tendency not to resort to duplicity; Howard didn't know how many women she had outlasted in the office by the simple technique of not leading him anywhere by the nose. She'd held him at arm's length, and been forthright about it, not taking advantage of him while accepting his offerings out of politeness. Most others would drift for a bit, then begin sponging off him before either moving on to taking serious advantage or suddenly turning and treating him like a toad (usually, there was another man involved, in this case). Today had been a sea change, but it had still been vintage Caitlin; the argument over the check at the pizza joint was a prime example. Somewhere, somehow, Howard had done something right -- that much was obvious. What WASN'T obvious was what it was -- and without that information, Howard had no idea how to capitalize upon success. Howard's agitation was highly visible in Customer Service because he would show up at the door every half-hour or so and rock indecisively from foot to foot. Since it was a quiet day, he attracted quite a lot of attention from bored staff. Finally, Ginger Behrman hopped up and approached Caitlin, "What is Howard's problem? I don't even understand why he's here today, never mind why he keeps coming around and looking jumpy. Is somebody planning a layoff, or something?" Caitlin had a pretty good idea what was up; Howard was tracking Erin's theory pretty closely. Caitlin was amazed at the insight her daughter had provided her; she could predict Howard's reactions -- or the lack of them -- precisely. When it seemed like she'd let the cat out of the bag in the car, she'd left it at that and held her peace, allowing Howard to do what he would with the information. Historically, a gaffe of that magnitude would have been automatically jumped on by a male companion, with predictable results; without Erin's input, she's have decided that Howard was gay by now, since nothing else made sense. Now, however, things were clear; Howard's agitation came directly from the fact that he didn't know what to do and was virtually paralyzed by fear that any action that he took would screw things up. There was really only one thing to do for the poor dear (when did he become that?) -- let him off the hook... "I don't think so. Let me go talk to him." Howard, seated at his desk, looked up from a blank study to find Caitlin standing in the door. "Howard, you're making the troops nervous. What's the problem?" Howard opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. "Uuhhh..." Caitlin shook her head. "You're over-thinking this, and you're going to have a stroke or something. Why don't you just ask me to dinner?" Howard's eyes popped. "That's what you want, isn't it?" "Y-yes." "Well?" "Would you like to go to dinner?" Howard got out. "When?" "I-- Uh, I don't know, how about..." "Tonight? Tonight's fine. I should go home and change. Where are we going?" Howard's mouth moved, but nothing came out. "How about Andrea's?" Caitlin picked up smoothly. "It's a bit dressy, but I can dig out something, and you're already prepared..." "Okay." "We can leave after work and you can follow me to my place. I'll change clothes and we can go from there, and maybe beat the dinner rush. How's that?" "Good! Fine! Great!" Howard couldn't even move, he was so weak and shocky. "Okay, I'll see you in thirty minutes." Caitlin turned and walked out, smiling to herself. If Howard didn't grow a spine, she'd own him -- but if he didn't have a cock, it wouldn't matter, anyway... Howard sat there, his insides quaking. Suddenly, he was driving in the high-speed lane, and he was unfamiliar with the vehicle's controls -- shucks, he wasn't even sure what kind of vehicle it was! Better take it easy... He got up and headed for the washroom to check to see if he looked as shaky as he felt. ------- At the McGrath home, activities had drifted in a predictable direction, i.e., away from serious TV viewing. It had been a slow thing, and neither of them was totally to blame, but things had heated up considerably. Erin hadn't exactly walled herself in; she'd met Toby at the door in a sweatsuit that more closely resembled a pair of pajamas -- an item with a loose top in soft fabrics with an elastic waistband. There had been a bra and panties under the rig, but without a rigid defense the whole outfit would be ineffective. That defense was totally lacking; currently, Erin was lying atop Toby, who had a firm, bare ass cheek in each hand. Toby had inadvertently made himself a much tougher nut to crack in jeans, a T-shirt and a long-sleeved shirt over that, but Erin had been persistent and everything was loose and in disarray. The dress shirt was wide open and the T-shirt halfway up his chest; his belt and fly were open and sagging below his hips, and his cock was out through the opening in his boxers, prodding and oozing pre-cum all over Erin's bare belly. Erin raised herself a bit and gasped, "I've been warned that I oughta hold out until the third date..." Toby shrugged. "Okay. Promise you won't get grossed out if I juice all over your stomach, though." It wasn't as if just making out with Erin wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever done... Erin fluttered all over at the idea of Toby getting that excited over her. "I promise!" "Cool." He went back to nibbling her ear, something he'd discovered caused her transports of delight. Ten minutes later, she lurched up, "God! I'm burning up!" The sweatsuit jacket went flying, followed by the bra, which had already been riding loosely above her well-pawed breasts. "Uh uh!" Toby warned. "Go get the jacket! If your Mom comes home..." "Oh, all right!" Erin flounced off and collected the top, dragging it on but leaving it unbuttoned. "It's Saturday -- maybe she'll go out..." Then grinning like an imp, she shucked out of the bottoms and panties, dropped the damp panties on the floor and stepped back into the thin sweatpants. Toby just held his breath and watched, bug-eyed. Sweet! Crawling back atop him, Erin murmured, "Now, where were we?" Fifteen minutes later, she was gasping and hunching atop him; the sweatpants hung below the twin hills of her ass and she was rubbing her furry crack along the underside of Toby's furious hard-on. "I'm not gonna make it!" she gasped. "If I get off and you don't, I'll suck you, okay?" "Do you want me to lick you out?" Toby gasped. "Mmmmmm," Erin moaned. "Have you ever done it?" "No, but I don't mind learning!" Toby gasped. "That'd be SOOO cool!" Erin moaned. "I don't think I can resist! You won't think I'm a slut, will you?" "Nah. We won't be doing it, so maybe you'll make it to three," Toby grunted. "But I wouldn't come down on you anyway -- this is tough to control!" "Oh, God! SOLD!" Erin started kicking out of her sweatpants and turning around. Moments later, Toby was pulling her twat down toward his face, and Erin was getting her first good look at what was QUITE a nice cock, (much nicer than Scotty's and not as gooey from pre-cum). Erin could feel Toby's breath on her pubes; she settled her lips on the bulbous cock head -- and a key scraped in the lock, and the door popped open! Erin was facing the wrong way, but she knew what she was hearing. "Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! DAMMIT!" she wailed, sitting up. "Erin!" Caitlin's rebuke actually came more as a result of her daughter's vehement cursing than the fact that she was sitting bare-assed on her new boyfriend's face -- that hadn't really registered. "MOM!" Erin's total exasperation masked everything else -- fear, frustration, shame... How DID Mom manage to arrive at JUST the wrong moment? Caitlin rooted herself in the door. "Get dressed, you two. I have a guest!" She pulled the door shut and gave vent to her own exasperation, "I have an eighteen year old daughter who is... sexually mature, and has a new boyfriend. Will you give me a moment?" "Certainly," Howard shrugged. Caitlin smiled reassuringly at Howard and stepped into the house, closing the door behind her. Toby was about half put together, giving off waves of embarrassment, but Erin was throwing on her sweatpants without panties, her movements jerky with anger and frustration. "I thought you two were going to wait a bit," Caitlin observed mildly. "That's easy to talk about when we're not together, but it's HARD when we are!" Erin ranted while she snatched her underclothing from the floor. Crushing the wad in her hand, she wailed, "We came up with a compromise, and were all set, then YOU..." "Well, you're just going to have to develop better timing, or be a little less public," Caitlin returned. "What was this compromise? Oral sex?" "Yes, Ma'am," Toby nodded. "We figured it would take the edge off." The boy's erection hadn't gone down despite his embarrassment, Caitlin noted; it was clearly visible tenting his jeans. Poor boy! Poor Erin, too, apparently -- she'd NEVER erupted in an outburst like THAT before... "All right," Caitlin sighed. "I'm sorry, but you're going to have to throttle it back for a few minutes. I have a guest -- someone from the office -- and he's a little shy. I'm going to run upstairs and change clothes, and we'll be going; after that, you can do... whatever you like." "I can leave..." Toby offered. "NO!!" Erin screeched. "Don't you DARE!" She dashed across the room to clutch him to her. Caitlin pursed her lips. "That won't be necessary -- Toby, isn't it? You two can even engage in some subdued necking if you want -- I think I want to raise Howard's blood pressure a bit -- just keep it reasonably clean and try not to embarrass him TOO much, okay?" "Okay!" Erin dragged Toby to the couch by the hand, then sat there looking at the wad of her underclothing that she was clutching as her mother turned away. Caitlin re-opened the door, waving Howard in and murmuring, "Young love -- they're always in SUCH a hurry!" Howard entered, to see the pair sitting on the couch, apparently tucking something under the seat cushion between them. Caitlin settled Howard in a chair opposite the pair and murmured, "I'll hurry," dashing for the stairs. 'This won't hurt anything, ' she mused. Getting Howard's blood up might make him a bit braver... Howard sat gazing at the couple on the couch; Caitlin's daughter was a chip off the old block, apparently -- the similarities were astonishing. The young girl was clearly excited, too; whatever that rig she was wearing was, it didn't conceal her flush or a pair of nipple dents in the top. After an awkward moment, she let go of the hand she was clutching and came across to introduce herself, "I'm Erin." "Pleased to meet you, Erin," Howard managed. The top, which wasn't zipped up enough to really be decent when she was sitting, gaped when she bent to offer her hand, displaying a nice pair of teacup titties, the nipples pink and tight over puffy caps. Howard jerked his eyes away. "Oops! My fault!" Erin turned to wave at the still-seated boy. "This is Toby. My boyfriend." "Hi." Toby nodded, but didn't get up; it was fifty-fifty which was worse, embarrassment, or his hard-on, which would NOT go down! The older guy obviously got an eyeful of Erin's tits, but just as obviously he wasn't a total lech -- just a guy who got a view. 'Heck, I'd have done it... ' Toby thought. As to Erin's characterization of him as her boyfriend, hey, if she was good with that, so was he; the way things were going, they were gonna be steady, at least... "Can I get you anything?" Erin offered. "No, I'm fine, thanks," Howard replied, and Erin retired to the couch, snuggling up to Toby, who started trying to fill the silence with SOMETHING in the way of a stilted conversation. "So, you work with Erin's mom?" Toby asked. "What do you do?" "I'm an accountant," Howard replied. Toby nodded, "Decent, but not mathematically challenging." "True," Howard agreed, barely missing bridling at the innocently dismissive comment. "The challenge is accuracy and the ability to interpret the laws and tax codes in the most favorable manner without crossing over into something illegal... That part of it approaches art, rather than science." Wups! Was this 'Weird Howard?' "I'd better check on Mom!" Erin excused herself and dashed for the stairs. Both of them watched her go, wondering who started the fire... "Hey, is that the weird guy from work?" Erin demanded the minute she hit the bedroom door. "Yes, it is, as a matter of fact," her mother agreed. "Some of the things you said yesterday started to make sense, so I thought I'd try out your theory." "How's it going?" "He's pretty shy, but he's basically admitted that he's been hanging out, waiting for me to notice him for a long time." Caitlin giggled. "You're right about THAT part -- he seems to know NOTHING about women! Either he's gay and living with his mother, or you're right about smart guys!" "He's not gay," Erin replied. "I didn't zip up enough, and accidentally gave him this..." she leaned forward as she had for Howard, exposing her breasts. "He was embarrassed and apologetic -- but that was AFTER he got a good look!" "This blouse had better be competitive, then," Caitlin chuckled, leaning forward to display her décolletage. "Can't have him passing me up for you!" Erin giggled and nodded; Caitlin's breasts had slid a bit, but she had almost a full cup size on her daughter, and the same slippage that caused them to ride low when she was vertical gave her a nice, deep cleavage when she bent over. A push-up bra to keep them riding a bit higher had them well displayed in the open neckline of her white blouse. "You'd better be right about the other thing, though -- this is the first office romance I've started in a LOOOONG time, and if he's tiny, it's going to make life tough..." "Well, I'm batting a thousand," Erin replied. "Toby's... nice sized." "Aren't you two in a godawful hurry?" her mother asked. "We're TRYING to go slow -- both of us -- but it's HARD!" Erin replied. "Besides," she added, her voice hardening a bit, "you only usually do one date..." Caitlin nodded acceptance of the rebuke. "That's about sex, though, not a relationship. You need to have more than one thing in common. Besides, I doubt that he's being THAT good!" "Oh, but he is!" Erin argued. "I'm the one who keeps giving ground! If he was pushing, you'd have found me riding his OTHER end! What you caught us at was a compromise!" Caitlin sighed. "What are the chances you're gonna make it through the day without sex?" Erin picked at her fingers. "If you're talking about the whole thing, well, not good. If you're talking about us finishing what we started, zero!" Caitlin rolled her eyes. "Well, it's your funeral. Don't kill yourself over it. But use a rubber, you hear?" "Yes, Mom. Umm, is this a bad time to ask about the Pill?" "Well, we can't do anything about it -- that's for sure! Besides, the Pill doesn't protect you from stuff you get sleeping around. If this one lasts a week, THEN we'll talk about it!" "Cool!" Erin turned and pranced back to the living room. Moments later, Caitlin followed in a black bolero jacket and skirt set that went to just below the knee and a white blouse. Collecting Howard, she asked, "Ready?" Howard nodded and headed out the door. Caitlin stopped to address the young couple. "All right, stop pretending you don't have an agenda and take him somewhere more private, if you're going to get in deep -- I'm tired of walking in on sex scenes. And remember what I said!" "Which part?" Erin asked. "RUBBERS!" Caitlin swept out. Back at the Wilson mansion, the family was getting the after-action review. "So, do you think this will end it?" Sharon asked. "I hope so," Armand replied. "I'd rather avoid that ultimate in violence that will occur if he continues to obstinately pursue my family. In the meantime, no one goes anywhere without proper security -- if you're not sure your team is in place, call. Matheson, pass the word, and get a contact number to Sharon, Nora, Nate, and of course Tabitha. I'll want some coverage for the household staff when off the property, too -- ensure that Witherspoon gets the word and the existing arrangements are upgraded." "Yessir." "What if it don't?" Tabitha asked. "What if the dickhead jus' keeps on comin'?" Armand sighed. "Then I'll have to arrange for him to remove himself from the playing field. Should that come to pass, the less anyone knows about it, the better." "Awright," Tabitha shrugged. "We done here?" Armand nodded. "Then take me home, Big Boy!" Tabitha cackled, batting her eyes at Paul. "Your place?" Paul replied. "Not safe." "No, YOURS, Silly! I want you addicted to pussy, so I won't have to move back inta that rat-trap o' mine!" Paul looked nonplussed. Armand reminded Tabitha, "You'll have several residences soon..." "Them are workin' places -- I cain't get attached to 'em. You let me have my fun, now -- work's comin' an' I ain't sure yet that workin' an' playin' with the same equipment's gonna work," Tabitha replied. Armand waved it off. "Do as you please; this is between yourself and Matheson as long as neither of you is adversely affected." "I can go to work tomorrow, right?" Nate asked. "Certainly," Armand replied. "I was thinkin' -- what if I took Draper over there?" "It probably won't hurt anything," Armand replied, flashing a glance at Jason that said, 'Handle it.' "If he can capitalize on the opportunity, the warehouse can certainly use two more hands. Young Mr. Travis looks like he can handle himself." "You be sure he stays away from you know who!" Nora admonished under her breath, "I don't want to have to explain Stella to Tenisha!" Nate grinned. "Awright, le's go!" Tabitha hauled on Paul's arm. "Boy, you behave yourself!" she directed at Nate as a parting shot. "Not that he don't," she added as an aside to Paul as they headed down the hall, " 'specially now he's getting' his itch scratched regular. Havin' a boy runnin' around the house with blue balls an' a nervous temperament be some dangerous shit!" Armand eyed Sharon. "We're done here, then. Dinner in thirty minutes?" "I'll see to it." Sharon got up and headed for the kitchen. ------- Six-fifteen. Dwayne turned off Thames Street headed for Louise's and picked her up, standing there, in seconds. "How long have you been waiting?" he asked as she slid across the seat toward him. "Maybe ten minutes. Can we go by the park? I need to use the Ladies Room to change..." "Sure." Dwayne gave her the once-over; a white blouse, with an extra button undone, and a pleated skirt, almost ankle-length. Given her issues at home, this was pretty good -- it wasn't one of those sacks she usually wore. "What did you bring to change into? That's okay..." "No, it isn't -- I need to get out of the bra. That's it, mostly, unfortunately -- but doing it in broad daylight probably isn't smart," Louise replied diffidently. "Oh. Okay!" Apparently, the injunction to avoid that truss she wore while she was out with him was in full force. "Maybe you and Mary ought to go shopping and get you something that fits -- I just hate to see it, knowing it hurts you!" "How sweet!" Louise smiled. "Um, come to think of it, maybe there is something else..." "What?" "The panties." "I dunno if that's smart..." Dwayne began. "Hear me out!" Louise insisted. "Mom checked them on the way out, and it would be just like her to check them AGAIN when I get back! If we get to necking, I'll get... wet..." "Jeezus." Dwayne shook his head. "Okay, that makes sense, I guess." "Um, Dwayne?" Louise blushed furiously, "Do you have any..." "Rubbers?" Dwayne thought fast -- was it better to admit it, or to lie? "Yeah. But let's not rush into things..." "Okay. Better safe than sorry, though." Louise sat looking out the window to cover her embarrassment. "Yeah, that's for sure." They were at the park; Dwayne pulled up in front of the public restrooms. "Need any help? I could unsnap it..." "In the Ladies' Room?" Louise giggled. "You'd scare some little old lady to death! Then we'd have the cops there, and the coroner, and the eleven o'clock news -- How would I sweep THAT under the rug with Mom?" "Guess you're right," Dwayne grinned. Those things were SOOO fine -- was she going to let him play with them again? God, he hoped so! Louise thought about giving Dwayne a peck on the cheek as she got organized to exit the pickup, but she settled for a wave; best not to rush things and scare him off! The rest room was empty; she hit a stall and pulled off her blouse, settling for draping it over the partition when it became apparent that the clothes hooks had been removed. Off came the monster, and Louise dragged up her skirt so that she could step out of her panties. The skirt was ungodly long, but at least it was roomy; she really had NOTHING else that Mom would have let her out in. She pointed her toe in Mary's flip-flops, gazing at the flow of muscles in her calf and thigh; she hoped that Dwayne liked his girls muscular, because she didn't have narrow, super-model legs. Field hockey left her calves and thighs lean, but substantial, and her ankles were a little thicker than was perhaps the standard. She looked good in a swimsuit -- well, a one-piece. Mom would give birth to puppies if she ever saw her in a bikini! As it was, she tended to have to wear suits with those ridiculous poodle skirts designed to cover fat bellies -- something she didn't REALLY have, (okay, there was a bit of a bulge there, but it was more like a six-pack than a roll of fat... ). Enough wool-gathering; Louise slid back into the blouse, tucked it, and made to cram the bra in her purse -- something it resisted fiercely. Louise stepped outside preoccupied with the fight, and Dwayne's heart nearly stopped! The lowering sun pierced Louise's blouse as if it weren't there, revealing a pair of sweet golden orbs with dark centers. Man! What a vision! Still, he'd have to do something... Louise queried him with her eyes as she entered the vehicle, "What's wrong?" "Wrong doesn't describe it, but that blouse is apparently thinner that you thought it was," Dwayne replied. "You're kidding, right? Mom wouldn't let me go out in anything even CLOSE to indecent..." "Maybe it was just the light," Dwayne murmured doubtfully. "Just the same, maybe you'd better wear my letter jacket -- open, of course..." "Well, okay." Heck, THAT was a good deal in and of itself! Dwayne fished the jacket from behind the seat and put it beside her on the far side. "Not until we get there." Meanwhile, his eyeballs did a drop shot between those surprising breasts. Louise caught it. "You like them?" "Very much." "Well, here, then." She opened another button. "You have to look at the road every once in a while, though." Dwayne cackled, and Louise continued, "Have you got anywhere I can put this?" fishing the bra from her purse. "It will NOT fit in here..." The panties came with it, caught by a clasp. Dwayne eyed the assemblage. The items weren't that sexy -- a truss and a pair of granny panties -- but then Louise wasn't wearing them right now, was she? THAT was sexy... "Put 'em in the glove box -- and DON'T forget them!" "No way!" Louise shuddered to think what her mother would say and do if she did! "Okay, so what movie do you want to see?" "We'll do the sci-fi one." Dwayne shrugged. "Probably blood and guts." "I'll be okay." She didn't sound sure. "Look, Louise, if I ask for your input, I want it. I may reject it, or I may not bother to ask, but if I DO ask, I want an honest answer." Something about what he said and how he said it brought a tingle to Louise. "Okay, well, the sci-fi flick looks more like a horror thing." "That happens." "But I can't expect..." "Okay, you don't expect it," Dwayne cut her off. "But if I decide it's okay, then it is. In this case, I like the actors, so it's okay. Besides, I want you cuddled up, but not poking holes in my arm..." "Okay." That seemed to work. ------- Draper's phone rang. He picked it up and got, "Hey, Man." "Nate?" "Yeh. So, you wanna lug some boxes tomorrow?" "For money, fuck yeah!" "Okay. I'll be over 'bout eleven thirty." "Cool." "Later." Nate went back to rubbing Nora's bare ass. Nora, draped over his lap on the couch, just looked up and grinned; he was getting hard, so this position wouldn't last long. In the meantime, having someone actually enjoying her oversized ass was a pretty good thing... She turned her attention back to the TV -- apparently. But women seem to have a knack for splitting their attention; TV wasn't top priority. ------- Her mother followed through on her threat to ground Mary Eikenberry, so Rob offered an alternative solution: "Can I come over there?" Kimberley was tempted to say no, but how ELSE was she going to discover his intentions? When the doorbell rang, however, there was a surprise in store; Donald Graham was standing there with his son! "Donald!" "Kimberley," Donald murmured pleasantly, "How good to see you!" He took advantage of Kimberley's surprised withdrawal to enter smoothly. "Well, er, the same, I'm sure -- but it IS quite a surprise!" Kimberley worked on recovering her poise. "What brings YOU here?" "I must be the apologist for my son, I'm afraid," Donald replied. "I'm a poor example and my reputation stains him unjustly." "Oh?" Kimberley replied. "I thought that he was operating on his own..." "Well, perhaps," Donald agreed cautiously, eyeing his son, "but both his mother and I gave him this idea that appearances are more important than their underpinnings in reality. Miss Pinkersley was a serious mistake, but she might have been survivable, if Rob had only known that sometimes you just accept the fallout. Instead, however, I'm afraid that he applied methods attributable to me..." "Well..." Kimberley found herself following Donald's train of thought; she shook herself, thinking, 'God, he's smooth... ' Donald gathered himself. "Rob learns more quickly than I did, however. The young ladies he dated who were all too happy to part with their innocence to have a period in the limelight lacked an essential ingredient. Rob couldn't commit to the cash and carry relationships offered any more than he could the beautiful cardboard cutout. Fortunately, Mary, here, came along..." He turned and beamed at Mary. Kimberley eyed Donald suspiciously; the man was slippery as an eel... "So what are you saying here?" "I'm saying that Rob's intentions are honorable. That he has a deep emotional interest in your daughter that he is seriously pursuing. And that while relationships come and go without much in the way of guarantees, this IS a relationship he's working on, not a one-night stand." "I... see..." Kimberley's eyes shifted to Rob, who was standing there looking earnest. "Now, we can all settle in in the living room, and you can get to know Rob," Donald continued, "or we can let the kids go out and talk about old times..." Everyone but Donald blinked. The fact that Kimberley and Donald had dated a couple of times before Millicent arrived on the scene was unknown to both of the younger generation -- and that Donald would allude to it was a surprise to Kimberley. Instinct, therefore, generated her answer: "Maybe we should let them go out after all..." God knew that she didn't REALLY want Mary to know how close she came to falling for Rob's smooth-talking father! Donald turned to his son and admonished, "Don't overstep yourself, Son; you're on probation! Have Mary home on time!" He turned to Kimberley. "And what time is that?" Kimberley, caught flat-footed, glanced at her watch. "Eleven, I guess." "Eleven it is." Donald punctuated this with a counterfeit stern look. "I'll get a sweater," Mary yelped, and ran for her room. Fortunately, she was adequately dressed... She was back in moments, intent upon escape before her mother changed her mind, but Kimberley was watching Donald like a hawk, and had little attention for her escaping daughter. Donald kept Kimberley engaged until the younger generation had piled in Rob's Jeep and escaped; now, safe, Kimberley asked, "Why on Earth did you bring THAT up?" Donald sighed. "I guess that I should be happy that she's available to him to date; if we'd married, she'd be his sister." The comment rocked Kimberley, "Wh-what?" "You were a mistake," Donald sighed, "or, at least, letting you get away was a mistake. I should have never stepped aside for Bernard." He smiled. "Ah, well, water under the bridge..." 'Yes, Donald is scarier than ever, ' Kimberley thought. 'How I managed to keep him out of my panties, I'LL never know... ' Bernard was probably the reason; he'd seemed so safe, by comparison. But NOTHING was safe, and Bernard had been gone for six years, now. And Donald? Donald was married... "Would you care for a drink?" "I shouldn't." Donald smiled that catty smile. "I've shocked and embarrassed you enough for one evening. Besides, you'd be worried about your safety, something I'm, alas, incapable of REALLY endangering..." He stepped to the door, and looked back. "The boy is serious; they make a fine couple." "They're having sex." "And he's not the only one initiating it. Given some of Bernard's tales, she probably takes after her mother." Donald left Kimberley gasping her surprise in the entry, closing the door behind him and walking to his car, whistling. Damn him! And why was she wet? ------- Chapter 49: Dating Smart Guys... Caitlin and Howard beat the dinner rush at Andrea's by just enough that they could get seated immediately without a reservation. When they were settled, Howard's mind returned to the question that had been eating him for hours -- and while it remained unvoiced, it was written all over his face. Caitlin leaned forward, deliberately giving his eyes the drop-shot between her breasts (he was so cute about it, too, looking and then catching himself and pretending he hadn't), and asked the leading question, "What's wrong, Howard -- you're being awfully quiet..." "I'm wondering..." "Why?" "Yes." Howard sat for a moment. "What has suddenly changed?" Caitlin pursed her lips, and said, "Well, this is going to sound silly, but I suddenly realized what you were up to! I mean, I guess I knew all along, but you're terrible at trying to pick up girls, you know? It was easy to believe that you weren't REALLY trying to accomplish anything..." Howard sighed and looked exasperated. "So what made you realize..." Caitlin sipped her wine. "Um, well, it was my daughter, actually. Her new boyfriend is, well, somewhat different than her usual choices, and when I asked her why, I got some surprising answers. She said that she'd discovered that smart boys don't know how to pick up girls; something about seeing more ways to do it and getting confused, or something. Apparently, they're looking for a better way -- only THAT doesn't work because girls aren't expecting anything seriously new, and just think they're weird... I don't suppose I'm explaining this well..." "Well, the bits and pieces I'm getting seem to fit the puzzle..." Howard replied, frowning and shaking his head in incredulity. "She also says they tend to be really honest and not to expect anything much in return when they do things for you -- apparently, it has something to do with this better way..." Caitlin shrugged, obviously at a loss to understand that particular piece. "Caitlin, have you ever run across the concept of chivalry?" Howard's exasperation overflowed. "Huh? Oh, sure. That's when guys open doors for girls and such... Oh! OH!" Suddenly, the lights came on. "It's like THAT?" Howard nodded. "Yes, it's like that..." His tone said that Caitlin was more than a little dense. "You poor thing!" Caitlin started a move to touch his hand, but aborted it. "Then again, I'm not the only one, am I?" "Well, no." "Surely you've gotten lucky occasionally?" "Not so you'd notice," Howard looked away glumly. "Oh." Dinner arrived, forcing a pause while each of them assessed the situation. After a bit, Howard observed, "Now you're thinking pretty hard, over there. Can I ask what about?" "Um." Caitlin covered her mouth and dispensed with the piece of fish she'd been chewing. "Sorry. Well, I'm in kind of a pickle. I'm as bad at picking guys as you are at attracting women. I've long since given up on relationships -- I've learned that staying independent keeps me from ending up black and blue. On the other hand, I still like, um, to be with a guy occasionally. Usually, I can handle that by going to a bar..." She gazed at him pensively. "Now, here I am out with you -- and there are... problems. One big one is that we work together -- if things don't work out, I could end up needing a new job!" Howard blinked. "Oh, I'd NEVER cause THAT! Chivalry, remember?" "Oh -- so, it's like, no harm, no foul?" Caitlin confirmed. Howard pursed his lips. "Yeah, like that." "Okay." Caitlin sat a moment. "Um. I guess the other thing is not doing relationships. I don't. But if things go really well, I might change my mind... I'm just not sure how to approach the whole thing." She frowned. "If we go at it like I usually handle these things, then I might... ruin something better..." Howard smiled. "If it'll help, I've always been attracted by your independence. The few women I've ever attracted were looking for marriage to a CPA -- matchmaking by someone's mother, usually." Howard rolled his eyes. "You can imagine, I bet. Anyway, that's never been a thing with you, and it's... refreshing." Caitlin laughed. "Being a CPA doesn't get you hot babes?" Howard shook his head, smiling. "Being a movie star gets you babes. Being a CPA gets you Grade C gold-diggers with grasping Jewish mothers..." Caitlin giggled. "So what else attracts you to me? I'm no doubt Grade C, too..." Howard's expression indicated that he was only semi-serious when he replied, "Well, I'd have said you were a good Grade B -- and Grade A isn't worth the trouble, even if it WAS attainable." Caitlin laughed and rolled her eyes. "Grade B? Me? I don't even want to SEE your Grade C! Omigawd!" Howard's face turned serious. "What do you think is so wrong with you?" "Howard, I've been out on the shelf at the meat market many times -- I know I'm not anybody's number one choice! If I was a horse, you'd avoid me for my teeth, and my legs are, well, hopeless..." Howard blinked in confusion, and Caitlin detected it, but she was on a roll, "I'm skinny, and these things on my chest might look good with a bra to prop them up, but they aren't exactly bikini babe hooters..." Howard pursed his lips. "Okay, that's YOUR opinion. Want to hear mine?" "Sure." 'This'll be good... ' "You have a beautiful, carefree smile that lights up your face -- I can't really remember ever worrying too much about your teeth -- besides, it looks like they're all there... Your legs are adorable -- they make you look like a pixie. They're different, but I love to look at them. I find them to be an endearing feature, not anything hopeless. You've borne at least one child, yet you didn't puff up like a toad and stay that way, which says good things for how you take care of yourself. As for your breasts, well the parts I've seen look good to me..." Somewhere in the middle of this dissertation, Caitlin's mouth slammed shut and her eyes got big. There was something about the mixed bag that Howard presented... "Goodness! Either you're a silver-tongued devil or..." Waitaminnit! She KNEW he wasn't THAT! What had Erin said? 'Smart guys don't lie' or words to that effect... That left... "So, uh, just how bad have you got it?" Howard shut up suddenly and looked away, embarrassed. "Oh. My. God!" "It's not like that," Howard muttered defensively -- but he wouldn't meet her eye. "It isn't? I feel awful -- not to mention stupid -- for not having noticed, but I think you're off your rocker. Why me? You could do better -- almost anywhere!" "I'm not hopelessly in love or anything..." "It's probably a crush. God, that's terrible! I'll NEVER live up to your daydreams!" "Oh, come on! You're exaggerating here!" But he still avoided her eyes. "And you're an AWFUL liar! Do you know that?" "Look, you don't expect me to admit to any such silly thing, do you?" Howard was quite proud of that little piece of misdirection until Caitlin shot it down. "Maybe not," she chuckled, "but the fact that you won't admit to it doesn't make it false..." Nothing seemed to be working, so Howard shut up, shrugging. More argument would be just that; nothing would be resolved. Yes, he had a thing for Caitlin, but he was an adult, and you didn't let such thing get away from you, did you? Especially if they're going strictly nowhere... On the other hand, here they were, at dinner together, on what most people would call a date; this was the closest to success that Howard had been in some time... "So, after dinner? What kind of plans do you have?" Caitlin asked. Howard blinked. Caitlin had more or less run things thus far; he'd not even thought about it. "Whatever you'd like, I guess." "That covers a lot of ground," Caitlin replied. "Do you dance?" "Uh, not really." Howard blushed. "Hmmmm. Want to learn?" "Fast stuff?" He'd look like a donkey or something. "Some. Some slow stuff, too -- it's more fun and easier to keep your feet under control." Caitlin replied. "Okay. I'm not exactly up to speed on the modern stuff." "I know a club for old fogies like us. Nothing too new and embarrassing." "Okay, then." ------- Dinner at the Wilson manor was a small family gathering -- just Armand, Sharon, Nora and Nate. Jason ate in his quarters; Inez shuttled back and forth between there, the dining room, and the kitchen, servicing both her master and the family. Leticia served, too, still in her somewhat altered bikini. Except... Armand glanced at Leticia and frowned. "Where is the tail?" "Boris told me that I should remove it, Sir," Leticia said carefully. "Really?" Armand's eyebrows went up. He punched the intercom. "Yes?" Consuelo answered. "Get me Boris." "Boss?" Boris, eating in the kitchen, answered the page. "Did you tell Leticia that she could remove the tail?" "Da." "Why?" Boris chuckled. "I don't want her -- how you say? -- bung ruined before I get in there. It is for me to have fun in, nyet? I want it to close up again, first." "Ah. Carry on, then. See that she cleans it well." Armand went back to his dinner, as did Boris. Bianca ate in the kitchen with the servants, under Velma's watchful eye. Pete was there, too, but he avoided eye contact and escaped quickly. "Wat's wit' yo' girl?" Velma asked, seeing Bianca's glum expression. "I don't want to talk about it right now," Bianca replied, glancing around. "Pete, then?" Charles asked. The Wench, kneeling at his right and accepting forkfuls of food from him, grinned around her mouthful of baked sole filet. Bianca glared at Charles, but Inez, bustling in from the dining room, had caught the reference. "You don't look any different," she rasped. "Sex with the handsome gringo child-molester wasn't the big thing you thought it would be?" "It didn't happen, Mama," Bianca replied. "Somehow, you spoiled the mood!" "Good!" Inez retorted. "He's twice your age! What future do you have with him?" "So suddenly age is a big thing?" Bianca complained. "In the old country, girls my age are married off to nasty old toads all the time! At least Pete isn't a toad!" Inez sniffed disdainfully. "This is not the old country, as you are SO fond of pointing out to me! And those old toads have money -- something Pete does NOT! Besides, you are not planning marriage -- you are merely planning to lay with him, like a puta!" She glared, "That is NOT what your father and I planned for you when we came here! You could be a puta in the old country!" Charles opened his mouth, shut it. This was entertainment... "And I could be a puta HERE, like YOU!" Bianca screeched. "At least I am not married! I do not disgrace myself and my husband, carrying another man's babies!" Bianca stopped short, her eyes popped, and she covered her mouth -- but the truth was out. Inez wilted visibly. "I--I..." Her face collapsed, and she ran from the room. "My," Charles murmured blandly, "THAT was interesting..." Velma rounded on Bianca, "Gal, yoah innit deep! Yo' bettah git goin' an' apologize to yoah momma fo' DAT!" Her eyes widened. "Yo' know who else yo' in trouble wit?" "It's true, then?" Phillippe burst out. "Oh, shit! Jason!" NOBODY wanted to be on Jason's shit list! Bianca hit the door at a dead run, "Mama! Mama, come back! I'm sorry..." Velma hustled out behind her, as fast as her legs could carry her. Charles thought about it a moment and followed. Armand was first apprised of the pending altercation when Velma came hurtling through the dining room door. "Boss, Bianca an' Inez was goin' at it an' Bianca let go sumpthin' 'bout Inez bein' pregnant. Ah figah Mistah J goin' ta go WILD!" Armand wiped is mouth. "Probably. Get Charles." "Here, Sir." "Let's go." The dining room emptied. Bianca figured that her mother would go to her old quarters to sulk, but Inez knew her duty; she went straight to her master. When she got to Jason's quarters, Inez was crying anew from Jason's angry, "See what you have visited upon us?" and Jason's expression was thunderous. "YOU!" he roared. "And to think I took your part in your recent fight! This is how you repay me? By embarrassing me before the staff?" "I--I'm sorry!" Bianca wailed. "I was angry -- Mama was accusing me of things she shouldn't have been and acting superior. My mouth opened..." "... And your idiot father leaped out!" Jason snarled, advancing on her, his expression menacing. "Jason!" Armand stood in the door. "Bianca has done you a favor. How much more embarrassing would it be to have to acknowledge the child at the birth?" "If it's female, I may have it drowned!" Jason ranted. "Faithless bitches..." But he'd stopped advancing on Bianca. "Jason, you're exaggerating this. The staff won't be teasing you; they know better. That pleasure is basically left to myself, alone. Besides, most of them are grateful to Inez for acting as a buffer against your more extreme mood swings." "That may be," Jason snarled, "but..." "It might be wise if you didn't extend this visit, Bianca," Sharon advised, peering around Armand's shoulder. "Bianca, make your apologies and come see me. Obviously, you can't expect immediate absolution..." "Yes, Ma'am." Bianca replied. Turning to Jason, she added, "I'm REALLY sorry! But..." "But nothing! You had a weapon, and you used it -- and more than your target was injured! See that you remember that! I will discuss your mother's behaviors leading up to it with her, but for now, you are not welcome here!" Jason pointed at the door. Bianca hung her head and made for the door. Jason turned to Armand, "If you'll excuse me, Sir, I have domestic issues to attend to." "Don't damage the merchandise," Armand warned. Jason nodded tightly, and Armand backed out, closing the door. "Charles, my study." "Sir." Charles followed Armand. "Velma, call for Felicia," Sharon directed. "Bianca..." "Yes, Ma'am." Bianca followed Sharon meekly to her office. Once they were seated, Sharon began, "That was unwise in the extreme. Jason is a powerful friend, and an even more powerful enemy. From what I've seen, he's been doing well by you -- whatever possessed you?" "My temper got away from me," Bianca sighed. "Mama accused me of being a puta -- a whore -- because I want..." "What?" "Pete." "WHAT?" "Well..." Bianca stubbed the carpet with her toe. "Boys my age are idiots. I want my first time to be romantic, and done right. I know there is the age thing, and we probably won't make it, but Pete and I... click." She sighed. "Mama was spouting the old country morals -- staying a virgin until your wedding night, blah, blah, blah... It's a tissue of lies, and it covers evil things -- and she can't even hold herself to those standards, but she waves them at ME!" Steam had been building slowly throughout this second part. Sharon sighed. "Your mother is a pragmatist. Her situation -- while certainly in part her own fault -- isn't totally of her own making. And while she fatalistically accepts her own lot, she hopes for better for you -- all mothers do!" "But following those idiot rules is what got her into trouble in the first place!" Bianca burst out. "Papa was no catch -- it would have been better if she'd known that they weren't any good sexually BEFORE they were married for ever!" Sharon sighed. "Certainly, Catholic morals enforce a certain pig- in-a-poke mindset, but there is more to marriage than sex. There was love there, once, I'm sure. Hindsight is 20-20; nobody knew where they were headed, going in. Besides, had they not married, you would not be standing here." She pondered a moment. "I gather that Jason took your part in an earlier altercation?" "Yes." "You have severely damaged yourself with him. I think that Jason has issues with women in general -- and you DON'T want to be a target in particular!" Sharon paused. "What about Pete? Does he know about this... crush?" "Well, yes. It's sort of mutual." "And what has he done about it?" Sharon asked dubiously. Bianca stiffened. "Nothing. At least nothing that I have not clearly invited. I know that this is... dangerous for him. He is very concerned about that. I... got Mama's permission to proceed earlier today, but it was... under duress." She smiled, briefly. "Mama assumed that we had rushed right out to do something, but Pete -- well, I think the whole thing upset him..." "I see," Sharon replied, "I think. No matter what you want in this matter, Pete is exposed to some danger from the law. Even with your mother's permission, he might still be prosecuted, if news of the relationship should get out. The age of consent in this state is sixteen, I think; how old are you?" "I'm fourteen." "Hmmmm. Well, you don't LOOK fourteen, but you sometimes ACT fourteen -- today being a prime example. You haven't moved in with Jason yet, have you? No? Good. Run along and hang out with Felicia for a bit, and stay out of Jason's way. I'll see if I can find a way to tactfully remind him that young girls and their mothers have fights over adult issues." Sharon shooed Bianca in the direction of the Wench, who was standing in the doorway. "Why don't you do her hair or something, Felicia?" ------- Sharon had indicated to Bianca that she intended to intercede with Jason, but her first action was to put in an appearance in Pete's bachelor quarters. "Pete? May I have a word with you?" "Yes, Ma'am." "Don't 'Yes, Ma'am' ME! I'm not THAT much older than you! Certainly the difference in OUR ages isn't as much as the difference between yours and that of a certain young girl..." Pete hung his head, mumbling, "I haven't done anything." "Hmmm, yes, well, certainly not as much as she apparently wants you to, anyway." "Well, I can't see anything happening, now," Pete murmured. "Why? Just because she had a run-in with her mother and broadcast to all and sundry that her mother was pregnant with Jason's child..." "What? Who's pregnant?" Pete blinked. "Inez. It was SUPPOSED to stay secret for a bit longer, I think. Jason is on the warpath because Bianca has publicly embarrassed him before the servants." "Oh, boy!" Pete exclaimed. "Is she safe?" "For now," Sharon replied. "Jason will cool down, eventually. Back to you; I though Bianca got permission to do whatever it is she's Hell bent to do..." "Well, maybe she did, but -- I can't, anyway. Not a fourteen year old! It was bad enough when I thought she was sixteen or so! Now... I'm not a child molester!" He shook his head. "How could that body be only fourteen years old?" "Well, she fills a mean bikini; I'll admit that," Sharon replied. "Hispanic girls tend to mature early, I think. How long have you been slavering after her?" "Well, it isn't really like that -- but if it was, I'd still be only one of a group that did. She's... hot!" "How is it, then?" "Well, a guy would have to be dead not to notice her!" Pete replied defensively, "But I've been keeping it all under wraps, until today. Strictly proper. But today..." He sighed. "Today, we were doing camel fights in the pool, and the girls were topless. Then she wanted me to help her with her hair. Then she decided to sunbathe naked, and wanted me to oil her... Hey..." He shrugged. "Um. How far has it gone?" "No farther than some, well, inappropriate touching. And I was invited, honest!" Pete eyed his boss' supervisor earnestly. He REALLY didn't want to lose this job... "Now that I know how young she is..." Sharon had gone there with the intent of upbraiding Pete -- but when you add Bianca's admission that she had been frankly chasing him to the transparent attempts at entrapment that Pete described... "Pete, what is Bianca to you?" "Huh? Well, she's cute, even when she's not falling out of a bikini. With her daddy gone and her momma moving in with Jason, she sorta needs a protector. I was trying to limit it to that, actually." "She wants more, obviously." "Well, maybe, but how MUCH more?" Sharon frowned. "She wants you to be her first. I don't think she's gotten much beyond that. I don't think it's love as much as lust -- and I guess I can't blame her; you're a slick package..." Pete was, too. He was built, had dark, curly hair and blue eyes, a certain brash boyishness... "What am I supposed to do?" he asked, exasperated. "Guys don't really defend themselves well in the presence of a determined woman! I mean, it's what you want to do in the first place..." "Well, maybe you go with it, if that's REALLY what she wants. But aside from your looks, I think she's attracted to the idea that you know what you're doing. You DO know what you're doing, right?" Sharon fixed Pete with a skeptical eye. "I get plenty of offers for repeat engagements," Pete replied carefully. The skepticism continued. "Bianca considers boys her age to be infantile -- and in my experience, she's right. She's apparently in full heat, but she wants her first encounter to go RIGHT, not just be some screw- up in a back seat. That's apparently where you come in; she trusts you not to just tip her up and dump in her, then walk away whistling, with another notch in your belt, while she lays there unfinished. How many hymens have you taken?" "Only a couple." Pete replied defensively. Sharon eyed him. "Given the tools you could bring to bear, I'd have figured you for getting your share and that of about two dozen other guys." "Well, I don't GENERALLY rob the cradle!" Pete replied. "In this day and age, even girls MY age have had their first couple of experiences. Not that all of them apparently went well..." Pete dated a lot of girls only once; too many of them didn't really LIKE sex -- it was just a way to attract a guy. He'd like to think that he had fixed a few, but who knew? "In general, I'm probably past cherry-picking." "So what is it about Bianca... ?" Pete shrugged. "Well, it goes beyond age, I think. Any guy would tell you that some girls are just hot. I mean, if Bianca was a flat-chested redhead with braces, I'd never even see her -- but it's like she's wearing a billboard that says, 'I'm ripe -- pick me!' Usually, that happens in late high school or in college -- and it doesn't happen to every girl. But when it does, guys -- especially guys for whom she fits the idea of perfection -- are gonna look, at least. Age has nothing to do with it -- or maybe everything to do with it, since it only happens within a certain age range..." "So, Bianca is 'ripe'?" Sharon scoffed. "What do you think?" Pete challenged. "Maybe you're right," Sharon returned, more seriously. "What are you going to do about it?" "Nothing." Pete's face was glum. "Absolutely nothing." Sharon thought about it a moment. "Maybe that's not the way to handle it after all..." "What?" "Maybe you should give her what she wants -- get it off both of your minds. Once it's dealt with, both of you can move on..." "I could get arrested!" Pete howled. "Who's going to complain?" Sharon shot back. "Inez!" "No..." Sharon pursed her lips in thought. "Not after Jason gets done with her. I'd think about it if I were you. No one here is going to stand in your way, given how certain Bianca is that she wants it." She chuckled. "Who knows? It might be the only way you can be rid of her... She's probably going to be in your hair until you do, you know. Knowing you really want it, she's not going to take no for an answer." "We'll see," Pete argued. Sharon merely shrugged and continued her departure. Having talked to Pete, Sharon saw no reason not to let the two get on with it. Bianca had a point -- it was much better to get your first sex from someone who knew what he was doing. Pete wasn't just out to take advantage of the girl, so why not allow it? Six weeks earlier, Sharon would have condemned the whole thing without thought, but recent events had broadened her horizons somewhat... Sharon knocked on Jason's door perfunctorily, and threw it open, "Jason?" Jason was standing there, with a strap in his hand. Inez, eyes wild, was bent over the back of the couch, nude, but with her wrists bound behind her and a ball gag inserted in her mouth. "I'm busy," Jason grunted. Red splotches all over Inez's back and thighs told Sharon what he was busy with... "Yes, well," Sharon began, bemused. "I don't want to interfere in your domestic affairs, but I thought that I'd point out that teenage girls REGULARLY fight with their mothers -- it's a rite of passage. Being a bachelor, you don't have much in the way of parenting experience..." "Thank you," Jason said frigidly. "I have also discovered that this one started things by provoking Bianca. While I am displeased with her reactions, I can't expect Bianca to have learned respect and obedience in the household where she grew up. Between that idiot Raoul and THIS one..." He whacked Inez with the strap for emphasis. "She'd have learned nothing but foolishness. If you'll excuse me?" Jason again raised the strap. "One more small item?" Sharon asked. Jason looked long-suffering, "Yes?" "I think Bianca's idea is a good one." "So do I," Jason replied. "So does Inez, now, don't you?" He menaced Inez with the strap and Inez nodded, wide-eyed. "Bianca may return, whenever she cares to. Now..." He waved the strap at the door. Sharon got out. ------- Encouraged by her mother's parting comments, Erin had let out all of the stops. Her clothing, what there was of it, was wide open, her sweatpants nearly completely off and the top only in place by virtue of her arms being in the sleeves. Toby's state of undress had made significant strides, too -- once Erin got her hand on his erection again, she wanted nothing in the way. Jeans being more restrictive than sweatpants, Toby had been shucked; his jeans decorated the floor, and his boxers were around his knees somewhere. His shirt was off, and the T-shirt was up around his neck. Currently, Erin was worshiping his cock, much to Toby's mixed delight and trepidation. She hadn't quite taken it into her mouth, but she was rubbing it all over, and the sensations were incredible -- which caused the nagging worry that he'd shoot all over her face if she kept it up... Casting about for something to say, he came out with, "We're gonna get caught again..." Erin was up like a shot. "No we're not! Get your stuff! We're going to my room!" "What about..." "Tobyyy..." "Awright, awright!!!" Like he was gonna pass it up... Moments later, they were in Erin's room. Erin's top went flying and she stepped out of the puddle made by her sweatpants when she shoved them over her hips, leaving her gloriously naked to Toby's wondering eyes. Not stopping there, she shucked Toby out of his shorts and stepped in to whip his T-shirt over his head, then, while he was still unbalanced, pushed him back into the bed. Toby barely struggled back onto his elbows before Erin had knelt, grasped his throbbing erection, and engulfed it with her mouth! "AAAUUUUGH!!!" Toby had no shot at holding back his cum; Erin's hot mouth produced an instant overload! He grabbed her head in both hands and shot and shot and shot... "Oohh, MAN!" Completion brought sanity; Toby unclutched Erin's head. Erin rocked back on her heels, grinning, her mouth gooey from his spunk, "Wanna kiss?" "Uhh..." "Just kidding." Erin licked her lips and swallowed. "Gee, that wasn't bad! Quick, too!" "Um, yeah." Toby wondered if he'd just finished for the night. Erin seemed to read his mind. "It'll come back," she commented, jacking it experimentally. "Heck, it isn't gone!" She leaned forward and licked up some leftovers the jacking squeezed out onto his still-purple cock head, causing Toby to shudder. "Okay," Toby gasped. "Let's see what we can do for you!" He dragged himself into a standing position and nodded at the bed. "You don't have to," Erin replied, but she sat down, spread her narrow legs, and parked her heels on the edge of the bed, leaving her tiny twat fully exposed. "Oh, yes I do!" Toby argued. "Besides, what better way to get a good look down there?" He knelt and feasted his eyes on his first real live pussy... Below the (blonde!) fur, it was pretty compact, zipped closed, the extra fold of what was undoubtedly her clitoral hood fairly prominent. Toby stuck his tongue out, instinctively going for just below the juncture. "Uuuuhhh!" Erin clutched her knees and went stiff, trying not to fall over backwards. Wow! Tongues were a LOT better than fingers! "Wow! I'm gonna lay back before I fall!" "Okay." Toby went back to work; a little pink pearl had appeared at the opening of Erin's hood, and Toby's tongue was there to lash it. Erin gasped and shuddered, "Aaugh! There! Oooh!" She rolled her hips, almost dislodging Toby. Her hands dropped from her knees to clutch Toby's head. Toby grinned into her labia. The taste of the fluids here, the smell -- he wondered initially whether he was going to be able to do this, but it turned out to be not only easy, but exhilarating! His boner was like rock... Toby's tongue was kicking ass, as far as Erin was concerned! He'd been at it maybe twenty seconds, and she was running like a faucet and chasing a BIG one! Tongues were sharp, focused, and jazzy, just like fingers -- but SO much more intense! Shit, she was ALREADY THERE!!! "AAAAAHHHH!!!! OMIGAAAAAWD!" She started bouncing and jittering and going nuts, leaving Toby wondering, 'This is a dead lay?' Erin pushed Toby back, "Easy! Too intense! God!" But the fire was lit, and Erin wanted more! "Rubber!" "Huh?" "Get a rubber! I want it! Now!" "Oh!" Toby dove for his jeans. A three-pack flipped open in his hand. "Gimmee!" Erin squawked. Toby tore one foil-wrapped rubber off the strip, and Erin snatched it, feverishly tearing at the cover. "C'mon!" She started backing onto the bed. "Bring it here. I'll suck you a little more and put it on while you keep me going..." Moments later, they were head to crotch. Erin had one leg up and Toby was busily working his fingers in her slot. Erin wrapped her lips around his glans and tore at the rubber. Obviously, Toby was still hard -- man, that was one hard cock! Scotty hadn't been that hard... The others had been in her before she could really make serious physical measurements... Randall had been hard like this, and even bigger, but he hadn't shot off once, first... Recent experience made installing the rubber easier, the distraction of Toby's fingers notwithstanding. When it was done, she gasped, "Ready?" "Uh huh!" "Let's go!" Toby whipped around and Erin guided him into a surprisingly tight cavern. "Ummm," she moaned, releasing him and fingering her clit, "I'm gonna diddle a little while you get settled, okay?" "Uh huh." Toby was busy cramming himself into Erin's tight opening. It was so... hot! Incredible! To be fair, he probably wasn't as gentle as he could have been, but Erin wasn't complaining, anyway... Toby was GOOD! He wasn't as big or as long as Randall, but that was a blessing, actually. Erin was re-lubed in seconds and enjoying Toby's movements in her hot box. The joy that Randall had given her was back, without some of the stretching and depth-bashing she'd gotten from Randall's larger probe. If anything, though, Toby was harder, and his somewhat smaller stature (whole body) made him a better fit between her narrow hips, bringing him into better contact as he started to seriously pound her pussy. Toby was in gear, pounding his very first piece of pussy -- and it was everything he ever thought it would be! Erin was just SOOO hot; the incredible feel of her echoed by the jiggle of the puffy caps of her teacup titties. Very seldom did you see the kind of puffy areolas that she had; Toby had seen pictures of nipples like that only a couple of times in pictures and never in video -- but he'd always gotten stiff, looking. Now, heck, they were in reach! Well, he needed both hands to brace himself up, but there was always... "Ungh!" Toby's lips on her right nipple sent flashes through Erin's whole body! "Ummm!" She reached up and clutched his head to her breast, encouraging him to continue suckling. 'Oho! She likes that!' Toby thought, then he got around to wondering again, 'How could anybody think Erin's a dead lay?' Heck, her hips were moving and she was gasping and holding his head against her chest... She was pretty excited! In fact, Toby was pretty excited just from feeling her obviously begin heating up -- and that led to another problem; he was gonna pop over the top and cum again, already! He strove for control, but he didn't have it, so he went for the next best thing, jack-hammering Erin in an attempt to get her there, too! He needn't have worried. Erin's advancing arousal wasn't feigned, and she was hovering on the edge BEFORE Toby raised the ante! "OoooooooooOOOOOOOOHHHH!!!!!! WHUUUUNNNNGGGGGGHHHH!!!!" she howled, going rigid, the onset of her orgasm actually bringing her into a more perfect position for Toby's attack to bring them both over the peak! "AAAAAAAAWWWWW!!!!" Toby crushed himself against Erin's pulsing crotch, erupting in rubber-filling gouts while the earth shook and the stars wheeled in the heavens for both of them! In a few moments, Toby abruptly returned to reality, collapsing against a still-rigid Erin, his first sight that of her eyes rolled up in a bright red face while she crushed him to her crotch with a hand on each butt-cheek. That lasted about two seconds before Erin, too, collapsed, her expression returning to something near normal. "Wow! You okay?" Toby asked. "Ooohhh, yeah!" Erin gasped. "That was Heaven! God!" "Really?" Toby's head started to swell. "Really! It was great! Incredible!" Erin paused a moment. "I was okay, wasn't I?" "Huh? Awesome! You were great!" Toby effused. "C'mon, really?" "Absolutely!" "So, maybe we'll do it again sometime?" "God, I hope so!" "You're so sweet!" Erin pulled Toby to her lips. ------- The movie theater was comfortably dark; Dwayne thought about staying in the lower seats, but decided that Louise would be more comfortable under less observation, so they went high. A couple of minutes later, another couple moved in a couple of seats over, a source of mild trepidation until Dwayne recognized Rob Graham. Louise caught Dwayne's chuckle as he relaxed, "What?" "It's Rob and Mary." Dwayne caught Rob's eye for a grin and a nod. Louise leaned forward for a look just as Mary did the same from Rob's far side, prompting a mutual giggle and a wave. "You go, Girl!" Mary hissed. Rob snorted, and Dwayne grinned while Louise blushed. The letter jacket had gone on the seat beside Louise; she wasn't interested in denying Dwayne access, at this point -- at least, not above the waist. Dwayne didn't really know this, however, so it took him forty minutes to reach the point of surreptitiously fingering the outer curve of her right breast. Louise settled as close to him as the seats would allow, granting him more work space; only the occasional fearful glance around broke things up as Dwayne grew more and more confident in his fondling. The grapefruit-sized orb in his hand had him rock hard and uncomfortable, but retreat was unthinkable; when Louise moaned softly and offered her lips during a slow scene, Dwayne thought he was going to shoot off in his pants! "Are you okay?" he asked, after the kiss. Clearly, the question had to do with how comfortable she was with the situation. "Mm hmm," she replied, then leaned up for another quick glance around. This was a minor source of irritation to Dwayne as it broke his contact with her breast, but she fixed that; when she settled back in the seat, she undid two more buttons on her blouse, and murmured, "Here...", encouraging him with her eyes. The message was clear; Dwayne slid a shaky and somewhat clammy left hand into her blouse, getting his first unfettered contact. Louise released a sigh as a thumb and an index finger automatically settled around an erect nipple and reflected that removing her panties had been reasonably smart, given the rush of wetness the tweaking triggered. For a couple of minutes, all pretense that they might be actually watching the movie vanished while they kissed hungrily and he fondled her breast, but then someone lost control of their popcorn container and cursed, and the pair froze and returned to a somewhat normal position -- the location of Dwayne's hand being the exception. Dwayne instinctively refused to secede the territory, and Louise didn't fight it; the hand continued to cup Louise's breast. Louise leaned forward to check for the source of the disturbance and to see if they were being observed, and discovered Mary leaning past Rob, grinning at her. The first thing that Louise detected in the dimness was that Mary's blouse was open, too; the second, as Mary leaned down and her tongue snaked out, was that Mary had Rob's erection out in her hand! Omigawd! She was licking it! In public! Louise gasped, and Dwayne turned and got HIS eyeful, which produced an involuntary snort. Rob rolled his eyes and got a grip of the back of Mary's neck, pulling her back. "Put it away, Sweetheart," he hissed. "This isn't the place." Meanwhile, Dwayne, encouraged to show that he, too, was doing well, contrived to bare Louise's breast (and his hand gripping it, of course), grinning at Rob. "Hey!" Louise whispered, but Dwayne let her sit back and reorganize things (somewhat -- the hand remained), whispering, "You've seen worse from Mary -- let her have a little blackmail material, too, Babe." That made a weird kind of sense, so Louise let it go. A couple of minutes later, Mary leaned across Rob, "Pssst! Let's go to the bathroom!" Louise nodded and Dwayne reluctantly extracted his hand so she could button up. Mary crossed in front of them, and Louise fell in behind. Rob waited until the girls were out of sight, then popped up and shifted across the intervening seats to sit one seat over from Dwayne, "So, how's it going?" "Pretty well, I think. What's up with Mary?" "Oh, she's got a wild hair or something. She's been getting away with murder for the past couple of days, so now she's cocky. I'm going to have to remind her that we still have appearances to keep up..." ------- Mary WAS riding high, having survived run-ins with both Rob's parents and her own, and it was showing! Louise checked the stalls coming in and then shrieked, "Mary! What on Earth do you think you're doing?" Mary passed it off, "Okay, maybe it was a bit much, but I wanted to encourage you some. How's it going with Dwayne?" Louise snickered, "Well, he loves my breasts..." Mary giggled. "They're a handful, I guess..." "Yeah..." Louise turned toward the mirrors. "Is this blouse too thin?" Mary frowned. "No, not really. I can't see anything much. Why?" "Dwayne says that in the sun it gets transparent..." She displayed herself for the mirrors, orienting herself in different directions. "Must have been a one-time thing," Mary passed it off. "What are you doing after?" "Burgers or something, I guess. What I want to do and what I want HIM to KNOW I want to do are still two different things..." "That's probably smart," Mary agreed. "Thank God I'm beyond that! Sometimes I think I want it more than HE does!" "I think I'd be worried..." "I'm not! I met his mother AND his dad -- and his dad actually sprung us from my mother!" Mary became conspiratorial. "I spent the night at Rob's last night!" "Omigawd! Aren't you worried about, you know, getting caught? Or having people think you're just a member of Bang Nation?" Louise worried. "Well, maybe you're right. Of course, Claudette has half the senior class believing that, anyway..." "More reason to not give them anything to whisper about!" Louise cautioned. "I guess," Mary sighed. "I just wanted to run wild for a little bit..." "Yeah," Louise agreed, "that'd be fun. I'd like to do that, too, but I'd end up on the street. Momma would FREAK!" She shook her head. "At least it sounds like you can run wild at Rob's house..." Mary nodded. "Maybe mine, too, now. No, you're right -- I can't get seen doing wild sex acts with Rob in public. People will diss me. It'll screw up Rob, too." She sighed. "Thanks, Louise. So, hey, how are YOU going to handle it?" Louise shrugged, rolling her eyes. "I wish I knew! If I DID know..." "What?" "Dwayne's been good -- REAL good! And it's not like I don't WANT to do it..." Mary giggled. "Maybe we can double, sometime! We could give you the back seat of the Jeep..." "Ugh! Back seats!" Louise groaned, running a brush through her hair. "There has GOT to be a better way!" "There is," Mary rejoined, laughing, "but your mother is likely to frown on happy squeals coming from your bedroom! Maybe Dwayne's folks are more easygoing?" "Yeah, right!" Louise laughed. "Ready?" ------- Meanwhile, the guys were still talking: "So, how is Louise? Are those hooters for real?" Rob queried. "Oh, yeah," Dwayne nodded. "They are unbefuckinglievable! And she's fine with me playing with 'em, too!" Rob grunted. "Not to sound like Ted, Man, but Louise has a little bit of sheep in her. You could probably just tilt her up any old time, and the worst you'd get would be kind of a look of shock in those big brown eyes..." "Yeah, I know," Dwayne agreed. "I don't want to do that, though. I want her to say 'Please'!" "No shit?" Rob chuckled. "Well, THAT'S cool. Is it gonna happen?" Dwayne shrugged. "I think so. I don't want her to remember that I took advantage of her. I want her to remember that she offered it up, and I accepted it. I think, long term, it's a better thing. I mean, you KNOW she likes to be led around. That's cool, but I don't want to have to haul on her leash all the time -- I want her to follow along, docile, chasing the carrots in my back pocket..." Rob cracked up. Dwayne sat there grinning, rather proud of his spin-doctoring. After a bit, though, he sighed, "Of course, it's not REALLY that cold-natured. Louise is sort of a dream come true -- a hot babe who is into me and... pliant." "Pliant. Good word, Man." "Yeah." Dwayne shrugged. "I'm not Superlover, or anything, and that shithead Ted spooked me. I'm going to want to not have to fight the next girl I have sex with. I don't want to see that look on her face. I don't want to see myself as another Ted. Louise, well, I think that's going to work with her. It'll be easier. On the other hand, it'll be harder, because it'll be so easy to trample her." He scratched his head. "Does this make any fucking sense?" Rob nodded. "Yeah, actually, it does. I liked the front end, it was some seriously good bullshit. But the second half sounds like my friend Dwayne." He paused. "You know, at some point, you're gonna have to be up- front with her." "Oh?" "Yeah. If you aren't clear -- and you aren't clear WHY -- she's just gonna wait around, getting more and more confused -- probably go into this 'he doesn't really want me' tailspin, you know? You have to tell her how you want it handled. Once she understands that it has to be her move, well, she'll probably ask permission, but she'll make it." Rob advised. "Oh. Yeah, I see that." Dwayne grimaced. "When, do you think?" "Dunno. Has it come up?" "Um, well, she DID ask me if I was packing..." "Soon, then. She wouldn't ask a question like that except for two reasons -- she's an innocent, and has no idea that she's just TOLD you she wants to fuck, and, well, she wants to fuck!" Dwayne grinned. "Guess you're right..." "Still, if push comes to shove, she might NOT want to tonight..." "No pushing and shoving. Besides, the pickup ain't cutting it." "Yeah." Rob ruminated a moment. "That sucks." "Louise's mother is, like, straight out of a psycho ward, too. If -- WHEN she gets wind of it, all Hell will break loose!" "What about YOUR folks?" "Mine are the 'do the right thing' type. We could end up married -- even if we don't like each other!" Rob shook his head. "Man, oh man! The things some people have to do to get it wet..." Rob didn't move back; when the girls arrived, Mary took it in stride, taking a seat on Rob's far side, and Louise settled in her original seat. Having the other couple in such proximity made Louise nervous, initially; Dwayne cursed that fact that the girls had left and screwed up his playtime. But in a couple of minutes, Louise leaned furtively forward, only to catch Mary's eye. Mary deliberately reached up and began unbuttoning her blouse, and Louise settled back and did the same. And Rob and Dwayne stopped watching the movie... ------- "Leticia?" "Mistress?" Recent memory of a strap-on session made Leticia respectful. "Report to Boris," Sharon instructed. "You're his until he releases you." "Yes, Mistress." A short curtsy, and Leticia shot off down the hallway. Why she was clattering down the hall as fast as her heels could carry her wasn't clear to Leticia. Certainly, Boris wasn't anyone likely to make her top ten list; having experienced him close up, she wasn't even sure he was a MAN for God's sake! Big, thick, shambling, hairy, full of primitive power -- he seemed more beast than man -- maybe a bear... Certainly, he was hung like some kind of animal -- the cock he'd presented her with the night before had been like a soda can or a beer can -- thick, solid, huge in her mouth. But when it spewed down her throat, the product more closely resembled condensed cream of mushroom soup for consistency than it did beer... Then, almost without any time for recovery, he'd shoehorned that fireplug in her poor pussy! She thought that he was going to split her in half, but her pussy stretched and stretched and suddenly the pain was gone, and it was good! And they were going at it like animals, and he lifted her against him like she was a rag doll and pounded and pounded and she'd screamed... Leticia came back to herself, almost panting from the memory of the most intense sexual encounter she'd ever experienced, her bikini bottoms soaked at the crotch. Okay, THAT was why she was in a rush to see the big sonofabitch! Even if she DID know that he planned to put that fat cock of his up her ass, sometime tonight... Gathering herself, she tapped on his door. In a moment, it opened, and Boris stepped back, rumbling, "Little One! You return to Boris, eh?" "Yes..." Like she had a choice? "Good. You are in bathing suit -- Boris will put on bathing suit and we will go to the baths, yes?" "Okay." Baths? What baths? Oh, well... In a moment, Boris returned in a worn set of bathing trunks, a towel draped over his shoulder. "We go now. First a rinse in the bathrooms, then the sauna, then the sunroom and the baths." "Oh." Taken in context, Boris must mean the hot tubs. Well, whatever. Leticia followed along meekly as they headed down to the pool area. Boris snapped on the sunroom lights with the ease of long familiarity, then turned toward the men's shower room. "Come with me, Little One." Leticia opened her mouth, then shut it. Boris knew what he was doing. If he wanted her in there, no one would care -- it wasn't really a public facility, anyway. Boris turned on both showers, stepping under one for a moment before moving off. "Wait here." Leticia did as she was told, sticking herself under a shower head. In a moment, Boris came back with an unmistakable red bag and tubing. "Charles gave me this to clean you out with," he announced. Leticia sighed. An enema bag. Great. Well, Mr. Wilson HAD directed it. Boris shoved the bag under a shower head and began filling it with warm water, rumbling, "Charles gave me mineral oil, also. You have had these before, nyet? Does the oil help?" "Ah..." Leticia thought about it. "Maybe." "Okay." Boris surfaced a small bottle that he had apparently been holding in his big paw the whole time. "We add it, then." He spun off the cap with two fingers and emptied the bottle into the bag, then resumed filling it. "Clothes off. Hands and knees, I think. Over there at the bench." He pointed out a bench placed for dressing and undressing. Leticia moved to obey, bemused by the easy command in his manner. It was a side of him she'd never seen before the previous night; now, she was frankly amazed that she had missed it. She stepped out of her slit bikini bottoms first, then undid the top, laying them on the end of the bench. Boris followed, shaking the enema bag to mix the contents. "Okay, over the bench, if you like." "It's better if my... ass... is high," Leticia responded. Boris shrugged. "Okay. Make it so." Leticia knelt on the hard tiles resting her head on her crossed arms and swaying her back. Boris, who had never administered an enema, nonetheless understood the principles involved. Squatting, he inserted the tip, holding the bag high and releasing the clamp. The insertion wasn't that pleasant, but Leticia didn't fight it, knowing that things could only get worse. Boris wasn't gentle, but he wasn't rough, either; once things were running, he stood, holding the bag. "It works, yes?" "Yes..." Leticia's primary attention was on the invasion of the warm oily water as it surged into her bowel. There were people who swore by this as a method of staying clean and regular -- but Leticia figured that they were all masochists. For her, an enema meant instant cramps, and even a small one felt like five gallons, flooding her belly... Boris watched the red bag slowly deflate. "Is it working? It is slow -- should I press on it?" "No! Please!" Leticia wailed. "It's a narrow hose, so it runs a bit slow. It's working, I swear! Just give it a minute!" "Hmph. Okay." Boris resisted the temptation to press the bag, anyway; he'd have to roll it up... Besides, the tip might go shooting out of her ass... Finally, the thing looked pretty much drained. "Is done, I think." He fished out the tip and tossed the bag aside. "Okay." Leticia's reply was a strained grunt. Her lower intestine was one big knot, it seemed; it was hard to breathe. "Now, we wait," Boris announced, plopping on the bench. "Charles said ten, fifteen minutes." At some point, he'd dropped the worn swim trunks, and his stubby erection was up and running. "Entertainment. Come suck." 'Thanks, Charles, ' Leticia sighed inwardly as she crawled forward to accept Boris's thick sausage. Well, at least she had this to help take her mind off the cramps... ------- Sharon had reported to Armand as soon as she sent Leticia off on her evening errand; now, she was kneeling next to Armand in his office while they watched the action in the sunroom area. "This might get to be a regular TV series," Armand chuckled. Sharon nodded, smiling. Better Leticia than herself! "Do you think the other pair are going to go at it again tonight?" Armand tented his fingers. "Ed and Velma? Perhaps. But aside from their total lack of any clue as to how to conduct a relationship, their entertainment value is lacking." He chuckled. "If we discover the comedy show running, we can always watch it until they get to the more mechanical activity..." Sharon nodded reluctantly. Armand was right; once they were in bed, the mechanics of watching an older man fornicate with an extremely fat black woman took a back seat to the aesthetics, which were somewhat lacking. Basically, if you weren't a direct participant and drawing pleasure from the act, it wasn't that exciting. "I imagine that you're uncomfortable," Armand observed. Kneeling on the carpet wasn't incredibly comfortable, but Sharon had done worse -- and complaining was unlikely to get her a positive reaction. In fact, experience told her that Armand could be laying a trap... "I'm okay." "I was thinking that perhaps we could retire to my quarters..." Sharon made the effort to tread carefully, "If you would like to do that, I'd be happy to join you." Armand sighed. The new Sharon was a different animal, and she was learning rapidly. "Let's go, then. We can be organized by the expulsion, if we hurry." "Clothing?" Sharon asked. She was nude; Armand had made her undress on entry. "No." Armand swept out. Sharon assumed a poker face and followed. Some things just weren't worth the hassle, and clothing was rapidly becoming one of them. The question had been deliberate; she'd asked, knowing he'd spike her. That way, he got his dominance fix, and maybe she would avoid something worse, later. Of course, if he ever guessed that she was manipulating him... Actually, the thought DID flicker through Armand's mind -- and it amused him. If Sharon was developing subtlety after all these years of mindlessly challenging him, the results might prove highly entertaining. Since he could continue to humiliate her at will, if she managed a few small victories, he would let her have them, as long as she wasn't too blatantly obvious and public about it. It changed the game from something resembling WWF wrestling to chess -- which was fine with him... Perhaps he would encourage the Switch thing, too... "Where is the Wench?" "I have her entertaining Bianca," Sharon replied. "Actually, that's no longer urgent..." Armand nodded. "Why don't you release her and have her join us?" "Yes, Armand." Sharon struggled to rid her voice of any excess emotion. More group sex? Or was she going to be made to watch Felicia service Armand? And why did that bring on a twinge? She picked up the house phone in Armand's bedroom while Armand tuned the video system. "Felicia? Sharon. You can tell Bianca that the immediate danger is over and that Jason has said that she can return. In fact, why don't you pass her the phone?" Then a thought occurred to her; turning to Armand, she said, "You know, something else might just pop up..." "Oh?" Armand turned, interested. "One moment, Dear," Sharon said into the phone. "You know why Bianca and Inez had their little fight this afternoon, don't you?" "Not clearly." Armand replied. "Bianca and Pete have developed a, ah, mutual admiration. Bianca wants Pete to take her virginity." "Oh. THAT's interesting..." Armand motioned for more input. "Pete was willing until he realized that Bianca is only fourteen. Then he started getting child-molester's guilt. Bianca went to Inez to get her permission, and she got it, but somewhat under duress -- Jason was working her over. Inez lit into her in the kitchen, later, over the whole thing, assuming that they'd rushed right out and done it -- and Bianca counterattacked." "I see." "Inez has since AGAIN granted her permission -- again under duress, but Jason was beating the Hell out of her with a strap for baiting Bianca and pretending to be superior to her when I got it -- but, as I said, Pete is going to be reluctant..." "And you're thinking of triggering a confrontation?" Sharon ducked her head and drew lines in the carpet pile with her bare toe, but she was smiling. "Yes..." "Put the phone on speaker," Armand directed. "I want to hear this." "Bianca?" Sharon spoke into the mouthpiece, "I've spoken to Jason, and he's backed off. You can return, he says. When I left, he was busy chastising your mother for provoking you and pretending to be superior." "Chastising?" Bianca asked. "With a wide leather strap," Sharon confirmed. There was a giggle in the background; obviously, the other end was on speaker, too, and Felicia was getting this. "I have another assertion that you have permission to carry out your little pet project -- and while your mother was again under duress, I think she's learning better than to recant such things..." "I see." Bianca's voice was carefully neutral, but there was another snort in the background. Now came the fun part. "Unfortunately, you may be out of luck; Pete is having second thoughts -- it appears that he thought you were a little older. Now he's afraid of being labeled a child molester..." "B-but..." "We discussed this earlier, Dear. Physically, you're not a child, but mentally and emotionally there are open questions. Legally, there ARE no open questions; legally, you're a child." Bianca stood at the phone, fuming. This was ridiculous! Boys would stand in line to take her virginity, but a MAN couldn't! Sharon sank the barb. "Personally, I've come around. I think you're being very adult and showing good sense. Personally, I don't have any information regarding Pete's capabilities..." "I do, Mistress," Felicia piped up, announcing herself. "He's good! Well-equipped, too!" "Okay." Sharon pretended to absorb this. "All the better. I believe that you're taking a sensible course. But if Pete is unwilling..." "I can fix that," Bianca said tightly. "All right," Sharon replied. "I should tell you that if you should change your mind at the last minute, or something, no one is going to rush to your aid. You've made yourself very clear on this subject, and we all plan to look the other way, for BOTH your protection. Do you understand, Dear?" "Yes, Ma'am. Perfectly." Bianca's face was a study in resolution. "Oh, and Dear? Please try not to make the whole thing a spectacle. There are other men in the house who might get the wrong impression. Phillippe comes to mind..." "Yes, Ma'am." "Good night, Dear. Please pass the phone to Felicia." "Good night." Bianca handed off the phone. "Mistress?" Felicia answered. "Please join us in Armand's quarters," Sharon intoned. "Am I in trouble?" "Not that I'm aware of." "Coming!" Felicia hung up. "My Master calls. Mistress, too, evidently. Are you all set, Honey?" "Uh huh." "What are you going to do now?" "Go see Pete." "Not going to take no for an answer, either, are you, Hon?" "Nope." "Well, if it doesn't work out as planned, I imagine that Master will kick me out sometime overnight. If you get all worked up and decide you want a tongue ride, let me know..." "Felicia!" Bianca grimaced. "Don't knock it until you've tried it!" Felicia grinned and sprinted off. ------- Chapter 50: Various Projects Below Stairs Felicia (a.k.a. the Wench) knocked on the door to Armand's suite, "Master?" "Enter!" Sharon called out. Felicia entered and immediately knelt. "You called?" "I did," Armand agreed. He was fast-forwarding through some video of Leticia giving Boris head. "I haven't quite decided what use I have for you as yet, but a continuation of Sharon's education is in order." He turned to face Felicia, "What did you think of the phone call to Bianca, Wench?" "Master, if Mistress was trying to dissuade Bianca, she failed." "And if she wasn't?" "Umm, wild success?" Armand chuckled. "What do YOU think of Bianca's little project?" The Wench blinked. "I think she needs to get laid. And I think Pete is THE guy to do it!" "Apparently, it's unanimous -- with the possible exception of Pete," Armand observed dryly. He turned to Sharon. "What was that last bit about?" "Phillippe?" Sharon smiled. "I thought maybe I'd give Bianca a weapon." "OH!" the Wench giggled. Armand turned a quizzical glance on her. "Explain." "Master, if Pete refuses, Bianca can just say something like, 'Okay, I'll have Phillippe do it... ', and Pete will have to cave..." "Ah." Armand turned a burning gaze on Sharon. "Subtle." "I kept Nora in line for a long time," Sharon replied. "I speak teen." "I see," Armand observed. In fact, he saw quite a bit. "Let's get arranged. Sharon, you're on me, but arrange yourself to facilitate a view. Wench, service Sharon. You need not see the video. I think we're reached the present." ------- They had. In real time, down in the men's showers off the sunroom, Leticia was snuffling and sucking, trying to service Boris properly through the pain and urgency brought on by a good quart of oily water distending her lower abdomen. The cramps were awful, but worse was the fight her already sore sphincter was waging to hold back the tide... "One more minute," Boris grunted. "Charles said not less than ten. I am to beat you if you fail to hold the water in, too! You might as well stop sucking -- you are terrible at it when distracted..." "I'm so sorry!" Leticia wailed as her mouth came off this thick member. She was, too! God knew that she didn't want Boris telling Mr. Wilson that she was bad at ANYTHING, but the pain and the urgency... "See if you can..." Lacking the word, Boris made a jacking motion. Leticia waded in, one-handed, sliding Boris's foreskin back and forth on his meaty shaft. "Lick the tip," Boris directed. "Da!" This was better! "Lips, only. Do not go deep!" The skinny little negress kept forgetting herself and letting her teeth get in the way. This way, there were no accidents... Leticia applied herself in the new manner, jacking him and lipping his glans, whirling her tongue around the tip under his foreskin. It wasn't as gamey as yesterday, probably due to the cleaning it got then. Boris was flinching and wriggling, rumbling, "Daaa... Daaa..." Leticia figured she would be drinking cum soon, at this rate. Maybe that would spare her poor, cramping ass... But Boris gathered himself and fended her off, yelling, "STOP! We let you empty, now!" Imperiously, he pointed to the door. "Other shower room. You will not stink up MINE!" Leticia made to struggle up, but he pushed her back down. "Crawl. Go!" A swat on the ass scared her into rapid, knee-scraping motion. Boris followed her right through the door; the fact that it was marked 'Ladies' concerned him no more than the fact that the other was marked 'Gents'. Leticia crawled past the showers to the back where the three stalls were situated. "The big one," Boris ordered. He followed her in, waving for her to go ahead and seat herself. "Okay, go!" he ordered. "Suck some more. Try not to make BIG smell..." More cramps, mixed with blessed relief as the water poured out of her abused sphincter, carrying fecal matter with it. It was rank, but Boris didn't leave; he stood there cradling her head while she again worked his erection. This time, when she wasn't reaching back to flush, she had a hand available to cradle his heavy balls, something he apparently enjoyed, by the grunts he emitted. Gratitude had her working hard, but Boris had no intention of losing a load in her mouth; no, he had his sights set on her ass, and if he could scrape together enough for a second pass, he'd batter her pussy again! The previous night's encounter had been the best Boris had had in ages, and he was determined to repeat the performance! In any case, one or two more repetitions and the little black slut would be addicted, anyway, and life would improve quite a bit around the dacha... That thought process nearly undid him; he backed off, suddenly, roaring, "Nyet! Not here!" Leticia, thoroughly terrorized, let go. "Awful stink," he muttered, covering. "Who will clean you up?" "I can use the bidet!" Leticia offered. "Bidet?" "That," Leticia amplified, pointing at a stall across the way. "It squirts water up..." "Good," Boris rumbled. "What about rinse, inside?" Leticia swallowed, grimacing. "I don't know..." ------- Armand surged up. "Wench! Get down there with a bulb syringe. I want to see you wandering around before they get settled! Tell them Charles sent you, having forgotten the thing. Go!" "Master!" The Wench ran out, wiping Sharon's juices off her face. Sharon made no sound; the fact that she was inhibited by the situation had made Felicia's work more difficult, but she HAD been making ground. Now, Sharon wanted to conserve the effort... Armand caught her hand shifting to her crotch. "Keep the hands where they were," he admonished. "Next time, maybe you'll appreciate it more, eh?" Palming the back of her head, he grunted, "Go a little deeper. Long-stroke it. Give me tonsils on one end and lips on the other." He returned his attention to the screen. ------- "How much longer?" Boris grumbled. He didn't want to lose his hard-on either way -- via inattention, or by ejaculation. "I'm close, I think," Leticia replied. The cramps had backed off, and she was starting to feel emptied. Of course, her ass hurt -- it was unused to such treatment. Oh, similar had happened before, with Mr. Wilson -- and she hadn't done as well, frankly. She'd made an ungodly mess and had to clean it up... But that was just an episode, not a series. Boris grimaced, stepped forward, and made jacking motions. "Easy. You do not drink from Boris tonight. You just keep him... entertained." Hard was the wrong word to use here -- it might give the little slut the wrong idea. "Yes, Sir." Leticia put her hands back to work. "Do you want me to lick?" Boris thought about it, nodded. "Da. Remember!" He shook a warning finger. Leticia nodded and went back to work. In a minute or two, she decided that her stay on the toilet had reached the point of diminishing returns, so she looked up at Boris, "I should move over there." "Good!" he grunted, shambling back. He was MORE than ready to move on... Leticia wiped carefully and got up, sidling around toward the bidet. She felt... messy. "You don't want to see, I think." Boris waved a hand in agreement. Leticia circled around and busied herself trying to set the water temperature on the bidet. Boris watched, shaking his head. Just as she settled over the bowl, a soft voice began calling, "Bo-ris! Oh, Bo- ris!" "Huh?" Boris shambled to the door. It was the Wench, holding a bulb syringe. "Charles sent me. He said you might need this for rinsing Leticia out..." Boris nodded, accepting the bulb and turning it in his hands. "Da. Thank him for me." The Wench smiled, nodded, and got out of there. Boris returned to the changing room, holding the bulb. "This for inside." Leticia puffed out a sigh. Obviously, she was NOT going to get a break! "Okay." "How?" "A couple of quick in an outs, I think," Leticia suggested. "I can do it here, since most of the mess is gone." "Okay," Boris waved for her to continue. "I am bored. We are done soon, no?" "Yes. Just a few more minutes." Warm water made her tortured ass feel better, but now she had to use the damned bulb... Ah, well... She flushed, sucked water out of the bowl, inserted the bulb gingerly in her cringing rectum and squeezed. Making no attempt to retain anything, she evacuated the small amount of water and the minor mess it carried with it and repeated the entire process. On pass three, things looked pretty good, so she spent a short time in the flow of the water and rose. "I think that's it." "Turn around," Boris grunted. "Bend over." He took a good look, then ran his hands over her ass for good measure. "Wet." Leticia shrugged. "No towel." "Get one. We go to sauna now." Christ! He was going to do her ass in a sauna? What an evening! Sweating like a pig while he shoved a baseball bat up her sore ass! God, she wished she'd never opened her big, fat mouth! But it didn't happen that way. Boris settled himself on the sauna seat and rumbled, "Come! Give me titties. We sweat a little before we go to baths." She straddled him, feeling his thick cock rise and fall at her crotch while he fondled, nibbled, and suckled at her erect nipples. "These too small," he rumbled. "I will talk to Boss about making you milk cow so you get decent sized titties. How you attract a man with these things?" Oddly, it didn't stop him from working them over... After ten minutes, he leaned up and whiffed her armpit, surprising her. "You smell... like negress," he grunted. Slapping her might have been kinder. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she started to blubber. "What?" he asked, confused. "I... can't help it..." "No." Boris shrugged. "Is what you are. I am Georgian, you are negress. These are facts. You live with them, no?" His eyes narrowed. "You want white?" "What? Yes. No. Maybe. What do you mean?" "You want to BE white? Or you want white man?" "I can't BE white. But..." "So. Little brown babies thing is for real with you?" "Well, yes." "Hah." Boris waved his arm. "Too hot in here for serious conversation. Go to shower, quick in and out -- wash off sweat. Meet me at baths." He swatted her on the ass. "Go!" Boris did as he directed, and was in and out of the shower in no time. Leticia, however, stopped to soap her armpits, her twat, and, gingerly, her ass. Boris stuck his head in the shower room and roared, "Soap later! Get wet, come out! NOW!" Leticia hustled her ass to the hot tubs and helped him remove the cover from one. Before stepping in, he came around, grabbed her and smelled her armpits again. "Is not white. Is soap, or is maybe nothing. You are nothing?" "N-no." "Have some pride." He got into the tub, and waved her to follow. She settled opposite him, but he shook his head, pointing to a spot by his side, under his burly arm. "Here." Leticia shifted around and settled in next to him. "Okay, now we can talk serious, nyet? Warm water feels good on tushy?" "Uh huh." The warm current was a balm on Leticia's abused ass. "Okay, so, what does skinny, flat-chested negress have to offer white mans?" "Negress?" "Is what you are, is it not?" Boris murmured. "We call it black." "Huh. Okay. So, answer question." "The same things skinny, flat-chested white women, do, I guess." Boris grunted. "Why bother? Skinny, flat-chested white women not in demand, either. White men like titties." Boris was off to the races. "Black womans do not have a lot to offer. Either they are giant big, like Velma, or they are skinny and flat-chested, like you. White mans want woman with nice titties, orange, grapefruit, maybe cantaloupe. Giant big black womans have pumpkins or watermelons -- too big, like big balloon in parades. Even fat white womans usually don't blow up like parade balloon -- have grapefruits, or cantaloupes. White mans prefer that. Black mans prefer that." He eyed Leticia. "You are on other end. Skinny, flat-chested. Plenty of skinny, flat-chested white women -- mostly nervous types. Plenty skinny, flat-chested chinks." He scratched his head a moment. "How you say -- Orientals. They smaller, too. What makes you different?" He pursed his lips in thought. "Besides, I forgot problem with all black womans." "What's that?" "Bad temper." Boris grinned while Leticia worked through being furious. "So, I have no drawing cards? I was a model!" Leticia insisted. "Not for white mans. No titties." Leticia felt his hand on her thigh under the water. "Spread legs. I want to play with cat." "Pussy," Leticia corrected. "Right. Pussy." A meaty hand dragged her leg atop his. "You can play, too." Leticia reached into his lap, knowing that it was an order. Meanwhile, a thick finger began sliding between her nether lips. "Okay, so what am I supposed to do? Get breast implants?" Boris made a face. "Bah. When they find out the titties are fake, you are worse off! Grow titties naturally -- have children! Breast feed!" "You're kidding, right?" "Nyet. Be wet nurse, milk cow. Titties swell up, you attract mans." Boris was apparently deadly serious. "That brings me back to the starting point, though!" Leticia pointed out. "I have to have a man before I can get pregnant!" "Da." Boris nodded. "Is problem. What else do you have to attract white mans, then? Hmmmm." He eyed her up and down. "Big, soft lips -- you give good blowjobs. Maybe you start using cat -- pussy -- more often..." The thick finger had found her clit, and was riding it. "You are on pills, yes?" "Yes." "You will not have babies that way." "I won't anyway, at this rate..." Boris shrugged. "You had sex with white man last night. You will again, tonight. That is not too bad..." He eyed her. "Maybe I will breed you, if you ask nice." He pretended to look at the manicure of his free hand. "Otherwise, I just fuck you. You know that this will not be the last time you come to Boris..." This last was accompanied by a sidelong glance that begged a reaction. He got it. "I'm here because Mr. Wilson told me to be!" Leticia asserted. "Da," Boris agreed. "That is only reason?" "Of course!" But the assertion lacked force. Leticia didn't believe it; Boris didn't either. "We shall see," Boris rumbled. "Play more." Leticia resumed jacking his thick cock. In return, Boris's thick finger continued to bore its way into her vagina. Boris's heavy thumb settled on her clit, and Leticia found her arousal level rising, which led to more serious efforts on his cock. In a few minutes, though, the timer went off and the jets stopped. "Okay, we are finished. Time for REAL shower," Boris announced, leading Leticia out of the tub. They replaced the cover, then Boris took her hand and led her back to the men's changing room. "We will both shower here." Once the water was running and adjusted properly, Boris handed her the soap. "Wash me." Boris shampooed his thinning hair while Leticia handled everything else. Boris allowed her to avoid nothing, insisting that she wash his cock, his ass, his heavy balls. When he was rinsed to his satisfaction, he stepped away, "Now I watch YOU!" He did, too, even critiquing her efforts. "You will be clean, at least, to start..." he rumbled. When she was finished, he pointed back the way they had come. "We go now." "My bikini?" Leticia asked. "Is dirty," Boris replied. "Use towel, like I do. Show little titties." Boris had a towel around his ample middle. The injunction to display her upper body stopped an attempt at a more traditional wrap in its tracks. Well, she'd been topless a lot already today -- a little more wouldn't hurt her. She draped the towel at her waist and preceded Boris back through the halls to his rooms. ------- "Funny, at times, but this is apparently going to go slowly," Armand commented on activities in the sunroom. "Perhaps we should check on Bianca? Wench, get up here and take over; Sharon's mouth is getting tired." Armand started looking for Bianca, starting in the bachelor quarters. ------- "Pete!" Bianca rapped on Pete's door. "What the--" Pete, watching a ball game in sweats, hopped up from his couch and went to the door. "Who's there?" "It's Bianca, Pete. Open up." "I don't know if that's a good idea..." "You don't want a bunch of people seeing me here, do you? They'll get ideas..." "All right." Pete opened the door, looked both ways, and waved Bianca in. "Why are you here?" "I... heard that you were upset," Bianca replied carefully. Pete waved her into a chair, then carefully settled himself on the couch with the coffee table interposed between them. "Well, I don't know if I'd go that far. But I've cooled down a bit." "What does THAT mean?" "It means, I'm thinking, instead of feeling. Bianca, I should never have gone as far as I have with you! Guys who seduce fourteen-year-old girls are child molesters! I'm... not into that..." "Seduce? You seduced me? Ummm, Pete..." "Okay, so, maybe you were doing most of the seducing. But other people won't see it that way," Pete insisted. "Other people will make assumptions..." He smiled. "Besides, you weren't doing those things with someone else. I have to assume I had SOME hand in it..." Bianca dimpled. "Well, okay. But still, you worry about other people. Other people KNOW! And they don't care!" "Your mother cares -- and she doesn't think it's a good idea!" "Mama was living in some old-country fantasy! Jason gave her a good talking to!" Bianca insisted. Pete grimaced. "At least!" He shook his head. "Miz Wilson was down here to give ME a talking to!" "I spoke to her," Bianca said. "She made it clear that if I wanted it, no one would stand in the way. In fact, she told me that I'd better be sure, because if I chickened out at the last minute, no one was going to come running to my rescue!" "That's some deal!" Pete rolled his eyes. "Well, she was making a point," Bianca replied. "She said that my fight with Mama was childish -- but that she had decided that my approach to sex was very adult." "But you're NOT an adult! You're fourteen!" Pete insisted. "That's a number, Pete!" Bianca insisted. "Before you knew it, it didn't matter! Look at me! Do I look like a child?" "Well, no..." "What DO I look like? And don't lie -- I know too much!" "Okay." Pete searched for terms. "You look like some kind of fertility goddess. You look like you should be having sex this week, and babies next week. A lot of guys would just take one look and howl..." Bianca smiled ruefully. "In the old country, that's probably what would be happening! Pete, girls my age DO have sex where I come from -- and children, too! And many times, they don't get to pick who they do it with. Here, I have choices..." "Well, I don't. It's against the law." "The law is there to protect girls from child molesters, not to keep them from having sex with someone they WANT to have sex with!" Pete sighed. "Actually, the law doesn't discriminate. You're right about why it's there, but the assumption is that below a certain age, young girls are not competent to make such choices. And that means the adult is considered guilty of taking advantage of her, no matter what!" Bianca's face twisted. "That's ridiculous! I could have sex with a boy my own age..." Pete sighed. "Yes, you could -- and probably, he would escape any trouble that might come of it because HE, too, is considered to be too young to make the proper choices." "But that's insane!" Bianca hopped up and stamped her foot. "I agree. From what you tell me, several others in this household agree, too. But it's the law." "B-but..." Bianca's face fell, and tears began to well up. Pete stood and moved to comfort her. That was his first mistake. "Shhhh. It's all right. There's no mad rush..." Bianca collapsed against him, tucking her head into his shoulder -- but that brought her breasts against him, and her crotch against his thigh... The embrace was fierce; she shook with her sobs, but got out, "You don't understand! I--I feel the way you say I look! I can't go waiting four or five years! I'm ready NOW!" Pete had no answer for that; all he could do was to cuddle her and rub her back -- which was probably his second mistake. For several minutes, there were just the sobs -- but slowly, they subsided, and Bianca began to move against Pete, reacting to his caresses. Pete, lulled by the mechanics of the effort and the fact that they appeared to be calming her, missed the point. He also initially missed the subtle shifts in position that got her crotch wrapped around his right thigh -- until it started to get seriously warm! Even then, his brain was running behind when the alert went off in his OTHER head, which called his erection to action, straining against his sweatpants! The sudden realization that things were too good dawned, but Bianca wasn't letting go of Pete; if anything, she clutched him tighter. Somehow, she neatly scotched his efforts to keep his cock out of contact with her left hip, too! Raising her face from his shoulder, her look disheveled but sultry, she murmured, "How long must I wait?" The little minx opened up a drop shot for Pete's eyeballs with the move, too, right down between a pair of plush brown orbs with a hint of a flush on their upper surfaces. Moving his eyes up to her smoky ones didn't help, either. "How long until you're fifteen?" he croaked. "Two months. Less." "Uhhh..." When did math get so hard? "Fourteen months?" "Pete, mi amour," Bianca breathed, her face serious as she rubbed his cheek, "that would kill us both! Be reasonable!" "I'm trying!" Pete croaked. "No, you are being gallant, but foolish. I--you know I cannot wait that long!" Somehow, she managed to crush her heated crotch against his thinly covered erection. "Others -- ones who care less for propriety -- those will make offers. I am weak; watching Felicia enjoy you all, watching Mama carry on with Mister Jason, the other things that go on in this house... One of them -- Phillippe, perhaps -- will catch me in a weak moment, and I will succumb. But I will be wanting you..." Phillippe? If anyone was certain to make a complete botch of things for his own gratification... "You would sleep with Phillippe?" "Not willingly! But if you persist in this silliness, I could fall prey to him! Can you not see that this silly legal thing will bring evil upon us? The thought of opening my body to another while dreaming of you..." Bianca shuddered. "I am... vulnerable. You sense it. Do you not realize that others do, too? Phillippe is only one of several dangers..." "Uuhhh..." She had him on the ropes, his fevered imagination drawing pictures of her body spread beneath Phillippe, while he pounded away, uncaring -- or worse, Jason, who practically owned her mother, or Mr. Wilson, who tastes were arcane, to say the least... "Please!" she pled, "Put aside your worries over silly laws, and do what you KNOW is right! Please!" "I-I'll think about it." "Oh, thank God!" Bianca began to weep again, this time in joy -- and Pete was lost... Raining kisses on his neck added a physical component that reinforced the 'decision'. Pete's hormones were going nuts, but he WAS a good decade older than Bianca, and he DID have SOME control... "Let's sit down," he croaked. But Bianca had the initiative, and she draped herself over him, rolling him onto his back. ------- "Determined little thing, isn't she?" Armand remarked. "Uh huh," The Wench mumbled around her current task. "Not you!" Armand delivered a swat to the Wench's ass. "Pay attention to what you're doing!" Sharon giggled. "Well, it sure looks like it, but who knows whether she'll get him there tonight?" "Perhaps not," Armand grunted. "Back to Boris. Wench! Keep those lips tight, or I'll go for the throat!" He swapped over to Boris's quarters. ------- Leticia was kneeling before Boris in his quarters, swallowing his erection. "Da!" he grunted. "Make Boris hard! The next act will be easier if I am hard..." In a moment, he gruffly offered, "You can play..." Leticia, however, was using both hands already, and had none left over for herself. One hand balanced her against his heavy hip while the other massaged his sizeable balls. Her mouth was more than busy, suctioning his thick erection. Boris encouraged her efforts with a hand on the back of her head, buried in her springy comb-out. It was difficult for her not to fight his increasingly intense pressure on the in-stroke as his excitement increased; fortunately, he lacked the length required for a serious run at her throat... "Okay!" he grunted, "Up on couch! Point tushy at Boris -- we begin!" Leticia did as she was told, cringing at the thought of the act in the offing -- but she had no choice, so she might as well take advantage of all that preparation... Boris had one last bit of preparation to carry out, however; Leticia's first inkling came when a warm wetness dribbled along her ass crack. "Boris remembered oil," he announced, matter-of-factly. "This way maybe not break things." In a moment, a stubby finger violated her anus -- but at least it wasn't the torture it could have been. "Open up, little slut," Boris warned. "You will be getting much more than finger!" "Yes, Boris!" Leticia overrode instinct, pushing to open herself up. Boris dribbled a bit more oil from the bottle over his fingers and the going got easier; in a moment, he had two fingers inside her already tortured ass. The plug had NOT been pleasant, and she was pretty irritated, inside -- but then, this was a punishment, wasn't it? Leticia gritted her teeth and set herself to accept Boris's invasion. ------- The Wench was getting the same attention from Armand -- without the benefit of oil! "Come over here and give your sister a little spit," Armand directed Sharon. 'My sister, huh?' Sharon thought, but she kept it to herself as she attempted to work up a little lubrication for poor Wench. Fortunately, the Wench was trained to this activity, and was tolerating it better than the black woman on screen, despite the lack of lubrication; besides, there was that extra element of masochism in the Wench's make-up... ------- On-screen, Boris was obviously trying to decide whether an attempt to insert three fingers in Leticia's rectum was worth the trouble; after a couple of attempts, he desisted, instead preparing his thick cock for the main event. "Okay, now, do not fight..." "Uuuuuuhhhhh!!!" Leticia grunted into the couch pillows as the blunt head of Boris's cock replaced his fingers. The thing was like a baseball bat going in, stretching her beyond her limits; the only thing that kept the exercise going was his foreskin and the lubricating layer of oil that he'd applied to it. Leticia wanted to scream, but it felt like he was pushing the air out of her lungs; instead, she chewed the corner of the couch pillow and moaned as he slowly forced his girth into her protesting colon. It burned, and felt like she was being shredded -- but then the plug had, too, earlier in the day, and she'd survived that; in fact, there had been very little blood, despite the incredible raw soreness the thing had inflicted on her. Boris took his time; the skinny negress had quite a bit to do to take him, and there was no rush. If she stayed anywhere near this tight, he wouldn't last long, anyway... Watching his cock disappear into her narrow ass was very exciting! "Da! Is tight! Take it, little slut! Take Boris to hilt!" ------- The Wench, on the other hand, emitted a high whine as Armand inserted himself in HER ass; Armand wasn't taking near the care Boris was, for one thing, and the amount of lubrication available was minimalist, for another. Much greater experience allowed the Wench to do her job, however, and as for the noise, Armand liked it that way, anyway. Sharon sat off- side, watching, glad that poor Felicia was taking the heat... ------- Once seated against the thin padding of Leticia's ass-cheeks, Boris began sawing back and forth in short strokes, looking for some freedom of movement. Leticia gripped the couch arm tightly, working to minimize the agony caused by any movements she might make -- Boris was bad enough without adding to things! Her ass would never be the same -- that much was certain! Taking Boris up there was like taking a pipe, or a telephone pole -- no mere woman was made for this! She did, however, recognize that things could be worse; Boris had a sizeable foreskin, and it was taking most of the friction of his movements. Had he been without, the friction of his motion would have been a LOT worse! "Unk, unk, unk," Boris grunted, pistoning in and out. The little slut was tight, very tight! Even though he was fully in and moving, her tight ass had given very little ground, and it was providing him with intense sensations as he sawed back and forth. In very little time, Boris felt his heavy balls begin to draw up to deliver their load, and the pleasure boost that presaged his orgasm arrived -- but he controlled the berserkergang that provided the final peak of his ecstasy, knowing that Leticia would likely be ruined by it. Still, Leticia knew his power as he reached his peak, shooting globs of jism into her colon -- he pounded her hard during those last few strokes. But it wasn't the full release of the night before, and Boris recovered fairly rapidly, collecting a towel and wiping the oil from his hands. "Come, little one, clean my cock," he ordered. Leticia turned, dazed by the pain, and collected the towel -- but that wasn't what Boris intended for her. "Nyet, nyet!" he roared, snatching back the towel, "with your mouth!" "Ugggh," Leticia gurgled, and her stomach heaved -- but Boris gave her no time to resist, burying his hand in her hair and dragging her forward. Leticia failed to get her mouth closed in time, and got it impaled -- but surprisingly, the primary flavor she encountered was semen; the thorough cleaning she'd gotten before her bout of anal sex made the whole thing a lot less repugnant than anticipated. Gratefully, she licked and sucked, only picking up an occasional taint of the awful taste she expected to find. Once it was apparent that she was going to do as she was told, Boris released her and let her work. Leticia had no fight left in her, anyway; the interlude had been horrible! There had been no pleasure at all in it for her; her ass burned and stung, and was undoubtedly ripped and bleeding -- and she wasn't certain that it was ever going to close properly again! There was no way she was EVER going to do ANYTHING that would incur such torture again -- so it was with some horror that she received Boris's next comment, "Hmph. Maybe we do that again, sometime..." She froze, her eyes popping in horror; fortunately, her mouth was full, so she couldn't give more that a moan of shock! Boris, who had been deadly serious, caught her reaction and burst into laughter. "Ho, ho ho! Little slut no like, eh? Maybe Boris should only fill your other holes, yes?" A response appeared to be required, so Leticia backed off his cock and furtively replied, "Please?" Boris rumbled another chuckle while dragging her head back into place. "Boris will think about it. You have tight tushie, though; maybe Boris save it for enjoyable punishments..." Again, Leticia vowed NOT to do anything deserving of serious punishment! Boris might think her ass was tight, but right now it felt like it was hanging wide open, and a nasty mess could fall out on the floor, any minute! Fortunately, there was nothing up there... ------- In the master suite, the Wench was nowhere near as lucky as Leticia; Armand was used to taking women anally, and used to enjoying the pain he inflicted while doing it. He was nowhere near as quick to orgasm as Boris, therefore, and the Wench continued to be brutally ridden all through the cleanup in Boris's quarters. Armand kept her tight and cringing by the simple expedient of swatting her on the ass with a ping-pong paddle that he kept handy in the night table drawer (one never knew when a partner/victim might need an additional incentive... ). Finally, after some short stabs that worked the Wench's cringing sphincter over the sensitive area at the base of his glans, Armand socketed himself and erupted, grunting quietly. The Wench gratefully made shift to milk him with what was left of her anal muscular control after ten minutes of abuse. This was the pinnacle of her purpose in life, directly servicing her Master -- and, painful as it was, she gloried in it. In fact, she even managed some pleasure from the act, although in this instance an orgasm would have required more stimulation. The Wench knew what was next, too -- one look at what Boris had required of Leticia told her that events here in the master suite would continue to mirror those in Boris's rooms. The Wench, however, had not been as carefully prepared as Leticia; she wasn't going to be as lucky in the cleanup phase, either. Nonetheless, when Armand backed off, she spun and, without coaxing, took Armand's shit-stained cock into her mouth. It was repugnant, but whatever Master wants, Master gets... She allowed her expression to reflect her response to the taste deliberately, knowing it would add to Master's enjoyment to know that she wasn't enjoying her work; she could have maintained a bland expression, but she'd become aware at some point that Master preferred to see the effects of the suffering he imposed -- martyrdom annoyed him. Therefore, she grimaced and allowed her distaste and discomfort to show -- and was rewarded by a look of amusement from Armand. Sharon had been around the block, too. An exclamation from her would have seen her on her knees, taking over from the Wench -- so she deliberately maintained a poker face while watching the slave perform her onerous task despite her inner disgust. Armand was predictable, that way... "Time to swap back, I think," Armand announced. The big show was apparently over, anyway... ------- Bianca had lost no time consolidating her gains on Pete; wriggling atop him on the couch, she managed to bring her breasts to bear -- despite the fact that they were still in her brassiere -- and Pete seemed unable to avoid having his erection rubbed by her smoking crotch. The pair had moved rapidly from early kissing to advanced French kissing and were verging on a requirement for a fire extinguisher when Pete muscled himself out from under Bianca, nearly crashing to the floor before gaining his feet, "Whoa! We're not killing rats, here! If you want things done right, doing them in a mad rush is not the way!" Bianca sat up. "B-but..." "Shh," Pete admonished, his hands on her shoulders. "You've convinced me. But trust me, we can go a little easier, and it will be a lot better, okay?" "Okay." "I need to collect a couple of things, anyway. You sit tight, unless you want to come with me in there..." He pointed to his bedroom. "I-- Can I?" "Well, yes, but I wasn't planning on entertaining. Give me a sec, will you?" "Okay." Bianca began immediately to fidget. "Want a soda? There are some in the fridge. Help yourself -- I won't be long..." Pete disappeared into his room. Bianca, given an option, wandered over to the refrigerator. Pete apparently preferred Coke over Pepsi, but you couldn't have everything... Bianca sipped from the can and examined her next move. Was she being a fool? Pete seemed to have given in, but was this the wise thing? Was he going to put her off? Did she really, REALLY want this? She closed her eyes, and the memory of Pete's cock pistoning in and out of the Wench's vagina replayed before her eyes; yes, she wanted it. How could she ensure that things continued moving forward? She eyed her reflection in the glass covering a picture hanging on the wall; short skirt, sandals, sleeveless blouse displaying her considerable cleavage... Of course! She went to work, unbuttoning two buttons on the blouse and working through it to extract the bra beneath -- that would be better, all around! A second thought had her kicking her way out of her sandals; barefoot, she should seem more vulnerable... Meanwhile, Pete straightened the bedclothes on his bed without making it and kicked dirty clothing into the closet. Should he change clothes? Bianca was already working him through his sweat suit; probably, that would be easier to deal with, all around. Rubbers? He had some, somewhere around here -- and planning to go hunting for them at the last minute was a sure recipe for riding Bianca bareback -- and probably fulfilling the fertility goddess fantasy, which WOULD get him jailed! Bathroom. Yeah, that's where they were. Pete moved into the bath and dug in the cabinet, finding three rubbers (more than enough!) and checking the toilet seat for drips -- no time for anything TOO thorough, but she'd need it, afterward, and there was no need to give her the idea that he lived nasty... not that he had any REAL expectation of a repeat performance! In fact, what COULD he expect? If things went more or less according to plan, he was going to deflower a virgin -- fine. She was pretty young, but she was also better upholstered than some of Pete's regular girlfriends -- which certainly helped his efforts at self- justification! If Bianca had been some tiny, flat-chested slip of a girl, there would be the nagging worry that he might develop a taste for young stuff -- but Bianca's insistence that she was a woman despite her age had a lot of visual justification. Pete had the hots for her -- that was inarguable. But would that extend past the first time he had sex with her? What about Bianca? Was this the point of the exercise? One shot, a good experience, a broken hymen, and she moved on to other boys -- or other men? Viewed objectively, they had NO long-term future -- was it smart for either of them to pretend that they did? Pete suddenly realized that his woolgathering was slowing him down. What else should he be looking for? Ah. Lube. Hmmmmm. Not good. He didn't have any -- or at least, nothing specific to the act that would be effectively sterile... Well, he'd baby her, and if he could, he'd put it off a day so he could get something. Heck, Mr. W. probably had a case of the stuff around, somewhere... Straightening his clothing, he popped open the door and stepped through. Bianca was sitting on the couch again, sipping soda from a can. There were changes, though... The blouse hung a bit different -- oh, yeah, that was it -- Pete could see a scrap of white cloth tucked behind a seat cushion. Bianca had pulled off her brassiere! Pete grinned in spite of himself; she was certainly in a hurry! "Okay, so, you want to hang out in my room for a while?" "Sure." Bianca blushed like crazy, but she padded off toward his room. 'Where have her shoes gone?' he wondered -- but there they were, by the couch. He gave the room a last visual sweep; the TV had been shut off long since -- there was something tacky about molesting a fourteen year old to the roar of the crowd -- and everything else looked like it would survive the night. He followed Bianca into his bedroom. Once there, Bianca ran out of steam. What was she supposed to do now? Should she... Her hands went to her blouse buttons, and the thought flickered through her head that the brassiere thing had been a waste if she was going to undress right away, anyway... "No," Pete murmured. "I refuse to get cold-natured about this. We'll get that far tonight, or we won't, but this isn't surgery, or anything, and this isn't a doctor's office. Sit, let me find something on TV or some music, and let's talk a bit." "Where?" Bianca looked around for a place besides the obvious one. "On the bed. Prop some pillows against the headboard, if you like." Pete turned to his bedroom TV. What was appropriate? Romance? Soft porn? The on-screen guide said network was all crime dramas and 'reality' shows, but there were a couple of classic movies on the secondary networks. Movie channels... There was a pretty racy series on that one in fifteen minutes or so... Pete set the dial and turned it down to a murmur. In the meantime, Bianca had arranged herself on the bed and was recovering her drink from the nightstand. "Comfy?" he asked. "I guess," she replied. Nervousness was masking any physical issues. Now what? Pete settled on the edge of the bed beside her and turned to face her -- awkward, but they needed face-to-face. "So what are we doing?" "I don't know," came the toneless reply. Things had gotten a little cold-natured in the past couple of minutes, and her determination was fading. "Is this a one-time thing?" "I don't know," Bianca got out. "It wasn't supposed to be. I think... I think we're over-thinking it." "Oh?" "When you take a girl out on a date, do you make marriage plans?" "No. We don't agree to have sex at the outset, either, now that I think about it," Pete grinned. "Uh huh. Well, maybe you do plan on it, but you don't tell each other, right?" "Right," Pete agreed. "Okay," Bianca stumbled along, "We have a -- a thing. It could turn into something big, or it could go away tonight. Everybody's been busy telling us how stupid it all is, but the... thing is still there, between us. I want to... just let the... thing... happen..." "Now THAT makes sense to me!" Pete exclaimed. "And it explains why I'm trying to slow things down! We want the 'thing' to develop naturally, not push it... Otherwise, we get something else." "Okay, but..." Pet shushed her. "I have agreed to go ahead, okay? Wherever we're going." "Okay." Bianca settled back, then patted the bed next to her. "Here?" "Huh?" "I think this is the next place you're going." She smiled tentatively. Pete faked a sober analysis, then grinned. "I think you're right." He crawled up next to her and settled himself with an arm around her shoulders. Bianca put her head on his shoulder for a moment, relaxing against him, then looked up, "Pete?" "Hmmmm?" "Don't feel like you have to... goof around, trying to figure out what I want. I really want to be... touched." "You'll tell me, if..." "Yes." Pete took her at her word, caressing her cheek with his right hand while undoing the buttons of her blouse with his left. Reaching in, he cradled her right breast; the "Mmmmmm..." she uttered answered any questions on his mind about whether he had gone too far or not. For Bianca, this was the stuff of her daydreams! Pete's practiced fingers found the brown bud of her nipple, and she gasped quietly as it thickened and extended while the areole surrounding it crinkled. Pete, ever attentive, stopped at the sound, but she reached up to cover his hand. "You okay?" he asked. "Uh huh," she managed, her attention distracted by the wash of wetness that the sensations kicked off in her vagina. "Okay." He put the hand back in gear. Pete's choice in TV viewing was perfect; some show featuring women making brave talk about their sexual adventures, spiced with the occasional bit of nudity or uninhibited activity. Bianca absorbed this bit or that, but her main attention was on feeling Pete's hands drift here and there. When he offered his lips again, she was more than ready; this time, they took it slow, not attempting to devour each other -- and Bianca had to admit that it was better. Fifteen minutes in, Bianca's breasts were thoroughly conquered territory; she would arch her back when his hands left them momentarily for other targets. The blouse was there, but it merely acted as a frame; both of them were wondering just how they were going to defeat the next obstacle -- her skirt. Pete decided to take the traditional route -- up her leg -- and Bianca facilitated this by pulling her right left up and turning a bit toward him, which opened up access to her inner thigh pretty naturally. She wanted his hands on her cunny in the worst way; it was hot and wet and itchy and just begging for a touch! As his hand slowly took possession of more and more of her inner thigh, her breathing spiraled up to a pant. Finally, his fingers drifted across the soaked crotch of her panties, and she moaned in mixed excitement over the accomplishment and anticipation of more to come. Pete's finger scratched at her nether lips through the soaked fabric and she clutched herself against him, urgency transmitted clearly by her tension. Orgasm hovered close... Pete's finger began working to defeat the leg band of her panties, and Bianca's grip tightened. He paused. "You okay, Sweetie?" "Oh, yesssss..." "I think we're starting to race again..." "I don't CARE!" Bianca wailed. "I want you to touch me! I want to touch YOU! I'm... so close..." "Oh? Well, in THAT case..." Pete slipped his finger inside the leg band and dragged it up and down along her labia, quickly finding her clit and teasing it. THAT took no effort at all! Bianca went rigid, and her lungs constricted as she leapt over her peak under the unexpected impetus of Pete's fingers! Fireworks exploded before her eyes (which rolled up, not that it caused Pete any worry; he'd seen THAT once before... ) "NNNNNGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!" Pete held her while she surged and bucked against him, wondering if, when the time finally came to give her what she was asking for, he'd manage to improve on the performance of a fifteen-year- old... God, she was hot! In a moment, she relaxed against him, cuddling up. "How was that?" Pete asked. "Mmmmmm, so good..." Bianca slurred. "You were 'way too tense," Pete observed, thinking, 'Now, if I can avoid the same problem... ' Bianca, however, was ahead of him; her lips were working his neck, and her hand rubbed his erection through his sweatpants. "Now I want to see it," she murmured in his ear. Pete thought about it briefly, and could come up with no good reason not to let her, so he slid the sweats down his legs; Bianca had both hands on his erection before he could kick them off. "Mmmmm," she murmured. How to describe the thing? She'd seen it -- and three others -- before; it was amazing just how different they could be! But Pete's was, well, she didn't know -- could you call a penis beautiful? Her hands couldn't get enough of it... "Where did you learn to do that?" Pete gasped. Those soft hands were incredible, running up and down his shaft! She was doing this weird swap-off thing with them, one following the other down until she let go with the first hand as the second got to the bottom, then she reversed direction, coming up, the bottom hand coming back as soon as there was room and the top hand coming off to allow the bottom one to finish the stroke... "Hmmm?" she replied, not looking up at him; she was fascinated by the look, the feel -- soft, yet rigid; this would be better than anything she could think of, inside her! "You're, umm, masturbating me -- and it's really good! I've never seen that move before..." "Really? Is it good? Will you... cum?" she asked, glancing up. "Probably," he grunted. "You're not the only one who's a little tense..." "Want me to lick it?" Bianca asked. "I watched Felicia..." "Felicia?" "The Wench," Bianca supplied. "That's her real name." "Oh. Well, you don't HAVE to..." Pete temporized. "Maybe I WANT to!" Bianca replied. "Tell me what to do!" "Okay..." Pete watched, mesmerized, as the young woman's head lowered itself toward his glans. "Ummm, no teeth. Lips and tongue, and pull in your cheeks so that you get the maximum amount of contact. There are... places..." Sensations made speech difficult as her tongue swept over the tip. "Places that are more sensitive. The head. Just behind the ridge, especially. Underneath the tip there is especially sensitive... Uhhh... Yeah, there..." Bianca loved it! She'd had a flash of momentary concern over what the taste might be -- 'after all, he pees from there' -- and it WAS different than expected -- but it was good different. His instructions dictated a particular orientation, so she rolled up and straddled his knees, which allowed her to see both his... cock... and the expressions flickering across his face as she toyed with the spongy head of his probe. Pete got a pair of big brown eyes watching him over lips that managed to quirk in an impish grin while they absorbed and released his glans. A small hand managed to continue to sweep up and down his shaft, and in the background Bianca's golden orbs, framed by her open blouse, swayed gently to her movements. Who on Earth could pass THAT up? And that was just the visual feast; the things her lips and tongue (and right hand) were doing to his dick... "Uuuuuhhhh! You've never done that before?" Bianca backed off enough to deliver a flat-tongued lap to the sensitive underside of Pete's glans, "No." "Well, you're a natural!" Pete wheezed. "I don't know how long I can last!" He sucked in another breath, groaned. "When I cum, I can't control it. You should..." Bianca pulled back to talk again, lapping intermittently, "Felicia says, (lap), that I should, (lap), swallow, (lap)..." That did it. "Oh, shit!" Pete started to quake, muscles jumping. Bianca dove on him; what was coming was clear. She was going to get a taste of cum! Pete had been leaking something intermittently for the last couple of minutes that wasn't pee, but wasn't white goo, either; given the way it coated her tongue, it must be a lubricant. Now, though, Pete's penis got HARD and started throbbing... "I... It..." Pete tried to get out a warning, but Bianca's eyes said she knew what was coming, anyway. "Huuuunnnnnnngh!" Bianca, who had shifted to working her lips back and forth over the ridge of his glans while playing the underside with her tongue, felt the first mighty pulse, then tasted the result. It was... complex; smooth over a vague saltiness, with a bitter aftertaste. Not awful, but it would take some getting used to... The second pulse made disposal an urgent issue, so she swallowed -- and discovered the stickiness of the fluid as it coated her throat. Pulse number three was smaller, and after that, there was more throbbing than product pouring from Pete's penis -- which was a good thing, since the sticky goop was trying to make her choke -- but Bianca's eyes shone! She'd given her first blowjob, and apparently it had been a wild success! Pete, who had gone totally rigid, relaxed. "Wow! That was something! I don't think I've EVER cum that fast!" Maybe he had back when he was a kid, but certainly not lately; Amy, for instance, wasn't much for giving head -- dicks were for riding and getting her rocks off, not sucking the stiffness out of, in Amy's opinion -- and Pete couldn't blame her. Most girls just didn't seem to see much benefit to cock sucking other than as a way to stave off the penetration of their panties -- but Bianca had taken to it like a duck to water, and Pete KNEW that SHE wanted her little pussy plowed! "Are you okay?" "Yes," Bianca choked out, swallowing hard. "Sticky..." "Where's your Coke?" Pete was instantly solicitous, chasing the can from the bedside table into her grip. "Here, wash it down. Sorry about that..." Bianca took three big gulps and set the can down, "That's okay -- it was fun!" She surged forward into Pete's arms. "We'll have to do that again!" 'You're gonna make some lucky bastard one helluva wife!' Pete thought. Undoubtedly, it wouldn't be him, but... It was all the more reason to make her experience the best it could possibly be... "Okay, well, now that everybody's a whole lot less tense, we can settle back and enjoy ourselves." "Okay," Bianca replied, pulling off her blouse. "Let's get under the covers!" She hopped up off the bed and shucked out of her skirt, following it after a moment's thought with her pair of pink panties. "Um, okay..." Pete watched, bemused. God! What a body! Bianca has S-curves where a lot of girls barely drifted from straight lines! "You, too!" Bianca prompted. "Are you sure?" Pete asked. "Of course! Why not?" Bianca plopped back onto the bed. "Well, no reason, I guess. It's gonna be a bit before I can go again..." He stood, getting out of his sweats, basically without ceremony. That bodacious blowjob had triggered a serious load, and his trouser snake wasn't exactly at its peak... Bianca crawled across the bed to eye his now flaccid member up close. "Wow! That took a lot out of it, huh? Well, it'll be back. See?" Pete's cock was already swelling under her regard. "I guess if I want to feel it while it's soft..." She reached out to take it in her hand. "Wow! It IS soft! Silky! It's pretty amazing how hard it gets..." Pete was thoroughly embarrassed. How long had it been since he really did the discovery thing with a girl? It was so cute... "Well, it's not going to stay soft with you playing with it -- but I will still take a bit to recharge..." "I'd read that," Bianca related. "But it can't be much -- you did Felicia twice in what? Twenty minutes?" "Okay, you got me, there," Pete grinned. "Still, I've got a little bit of performance anxiety..." "I've seen you, mi amour. I know it will be wonderful." Bianca settled back on the pillows. "Let's not get under the covers after all. I want to... explore..." "Me, too." Pete crawled up beside her, and started toying with her pubic hair. "I guess we've got all night..." Bianca's expression was full of determination when she replied, "I'm not leaving until we do it -- if it takes until Tuesday!" "It won't," Pete replied. "But I want us to have fun, and I want you to be fully prepared. It's not always pleasant, initially. I want to keep the pain down and the pleasure up, so we're gonna stoke things, okay?" "Okay." Bianca's legs were drifting apart. Pete was well-prepared to take advantage of her cooperation. "Okay, I'm going to get a good look at the patient, then, all right?" "Uh huh!" Bianca started sliding down in the bed, opening her legs in the process. "I want to see your... tool, too!" she giggled. "Your hymen reduction tool..." Pete chuckled. "It's more of a vaginal stimulation tool," he related, arraying himself beside her with his head at her crotch and his crotch within her reach. "Oh, boy!" she sighed as his fingers began gently tracing over her mons, "I can't wait for the treatment..." ------- Armand settled back. "Determined, isn't she?" He dragged Sharon closer and resumed mauling her left breast. "She gets that stubbornness from her father, I think," Sharon observed. "Not that I had anything to do with him..." The Wench, collapsed on Armand's opposite side, asked with her eyes for permission to speak. Sharon picked it up and nodded in her direction, pointing her out to Armand, who murmured, "Speak." "I agree with Mistress. Inez doesn't have that; she tends to go with the flow -- a fatalist." "She has a bit of a temper, too," Armand continued. "Both of her parents have THAT!" the Wench chuckled. "I think Bianca controls it better than her daddy." "Mmph. Tend to agree. Wench, you're released." "May I stay, Master? You and Mistress are both here; I feel that this is my place..." Armand thought about it. The episode of 'Innocents Abroad' being beamed from the servant's quarters had made him feel mildly romantic, and brought on vague plans for more or less recreational sex with Sharon -- but maybe it was better if he didn't QUITE surrender to sloppy sentiment... "So, I haven't abused you enough?" "Ummm, I was thinking that Mistress hasn't..." the Wench replied guardedly. "Ah," Armand chuckled. That HAD been part of the early plan, before they got on to voyeurism. "Perhaps you're right. Crawl over and give her a good tongue-lashing. If Sharon approves of your efforts, we may let you sleep at the foot of the bed..." Sharon papered over her exasperation with a poker face. What WAS the purpose behind this pattern of setting her up for girl-girl sex? Ah, well -- at least Felicia knew EXACTLY what she was doing... Sharon looked down to where Felicia, apparently pleased with this turn of events, was gently prying her legs apart. Fighting the whole thing was a waste of time... Armand pulled Sharon against him, necessitating slight adjustments below, and shoved his tongue down her neck. Well! Maybe... ------- Chapter 51: Things that Happen Between the Planned Entertainment Rob and Mary entered Gino's Greasy Spoon, followed closely by Dwayne and Louise. Rob stopped in the main aisle and looked around, muttering, "Can't do the back booths -- they've got a rep, now. Besides, they're a zoo..." Sure enough, there were a number of even younger couples fooling around back there, obviously intent upon living up to the recent local legends. Rob negotiated briefly with the waitress and the two couples ended up in an off-side booth along the window -- highly visible. "Maybe this is a bit public for you two to come out, but we need to do this -- it's a response to Claudette's bullshit, mostly..." "It's fine," Dwayne assured him. Louise was VERY nervous -- but also highly excited! This was just about as public a claim on Dwayne as she could make -- and the jacket draped over her shoulders made it even more clear... Others noticed, too -- in fact, Dwayne and Louise eclipsed Rob and Mary somewhat. This was all pretty unexpected, and brought stony expressions to the faces of one or two females present while they suffered under the dual realization that Dwayne had been eligible for some time and they'd missed it, and that arguably he was already taken! And by Louise, for God's sake! How did THAT happen? Girls couldn't get a handle on it at all; boys instinctively assumed that sex was involved, especially given the fact that Louise was suddenly looking halfway decent... Claudette Pinkersley was there, surrounded by her coterie of hangers-on. Having Rob and Mary there, obviously doing well, was a major thorn in her side, but she held her peace on the subject, because anything she said at this point would merely ruin her credibility. The discovery that Dwayne Hansen had apparently managed to secure feminine company was equally unwelcome as it limited her available targets; Dwayne would have been easy to cow and would have made a decent escort, properly instructed, even though he lacked Rob's charisma. Well, she would bide her time -- something else would come along... Something else was Ted Phipps. Granted, he didn't present himself to Claudette directly -- but he made himself highly visible by leaning on the end of the booth the two couples were occupying, actively ogling Louise's cleavage, and remarking, "So! It IS you! When did you decide to come out and play with the big kids, Louise?" "Excuse me?" Louise blinked confusion. "Those hooters still healing?" Ted leered. "What other plastic surgery did you get? Did they puff up your lips?" "N-no..." Louise stammered. Dwayne started to fume. "Louise didn't get any surgery, Ted." "Right," Ted declaimed dubiously. "I'll believe THAT when I see it." He leered at Louise, "Wanna show me, Sweet Thang?" "N-no," Louise sputtered. "See?" Ted argued, grinning. "If they were real, she'd have no problem..." "Baring her tits in public?" Rob scoffed. "What planet are you from, Ted?" "Hey, I'm just trying to get at the truth!" Ted argued. "You can't tell me that she managed to hide them all this time, even in those scarecrow outfits she wears! This is, like, the second time I've ever seen her in anything approaching decent..." "It's true," Mary argued. "If you'd seen the bra she's been wearing -- it's a truss, and two sizes too small, at least!" Ted made a mock grimace. "Ouch! Sounds painful! You into masochism, there, Sweet Thang? You like pain?" "What?" Louise was having a hard time keeping up, struggling against amazement at Ted's rude comments and overbearing personality. Ted shook his head. "I can't believe that you went to all this effort for Dwayne -- no offense, Buddy, but jeez..." Dwayne went red at the implied disparagement of his sexual capabilities. "Don't get all tied down, now, with the first boy who looks at you close! You need experience! Come around and see me, and I'll show you how guys do it who know what they're doing!" "I don't think that Louise is gonna be interested in anything you've got to offer, Ted," Dwayne interjected, his voice ominous. "I've seen how you treat girls." "Me, either," Louise slipped in quietly. Ted grunted. "Huh! I've seen YOU, too, you know!" He shook his head, smiling superciliously. "You couldn't hold onto Darla Jean even with help! All I have to do is sit back and wait..." "Man, stay away from Louise!" Dwayne growled. "Or you'll do what?" Ted taunted. "He'll collect three good friends and pound your ass to a pulp," Rob interjected. "Since I'll be one of them, finding two more shouldn't take any effort -- especially with YOUR track record!" Overmatched, Ted started to disengage. "It'd take that!" he offered as a parting shot. "It'd take a good deal less, actually," Rob countered, "We just wouldn't want to exert ourselves too much to do a good job." Dwayne sat fuming, grateful for his friend's ability to win verbal engagements. Louise sat eyeing Ted as if he were a snake. Finally, she said quietly, "I don't like him..." "You should stay away from Ted," Dwayne warned. "He hasn't treated a girl right yet, and I'm not sure he ever will! If he bothers you -- at all -- you tell me right away, okay?" "Yes, Dwayne." Louise's instinctive response embarrassed both of them. Mary took it up. "Ted is tricky, and he's a blackmailer. He'll try to manipulate you into doing something that will give him leverage over you -- and then things will get worse and worse. Stay away from him -- and if he starts something, and you don't feel like you can tell Dwayne about it, tell ME, and I'LL put the dogs on him, okay?" "Okay," Louise said quietly. This little incident had scared her no end, largely because he HAD tried to manipulate her, right there in front of everybody -- and if they'd been alone, undoubtedly it would have worked, if only because she would have reacted to his aura of control... ------- Claudette watched all this from a distance. She didn't have to hear the exchange to know what was going on -- the visuals were plenty. But they pointed up Ted, who was, frankly, better looking than Dwayne, anyway, with his dark, curly hair and handsome face. Besides, Ted had an aura about him -- a dangerous aura, to be sure, but anything was better than nothing, and Claudette was certain that she could find uses for it. "Wait here," she said to her entourage, and she got up to intercept Ted on his way to another table. "That didn't seem to go well," she observed. Ted was seriously irritated, but he controlled his temper. "Just learning who my friends are," he grunted. "You can't say nasty things about people and expect them to be in your corner," Claudette replied. "Surely you know that. You've been stepping on Dwayne pretty hard..." "Yeah," Ted grunted. "I guess not." Why had Miss Cotton Candy accosted him? "But he didn't back my action over our little party with Darla Jean, so now there are two stories. I figure he screwed me first." "I don't," Claudette countered. "I hear you didn't treat Dwayne any better than you did Darla Jean at that 'party'..." "Maybe," Ted grunted. "So -- what? -- you're my conscience or something?" "I just thought I'd offer you some advice," Claudette replied coolly. "Sometimes, you slip up and mar what could be a pretty good reputation." She eyed the foursome at the table. "Why are you bothering to try to steal a wallflower like Louise from Dwayne, anyway?" Ted stopped to examine his motives: Revenge, ego, mild irritation at a missed opportunity... "I only wanted to borrow her for a bit and get a good look at those fake..." Claudette's frown of disapproval stopped him. "What?" "Not in public. Not that loudly. Shall we go sit somewhere?" Ted blinked. The Snow Queen had already passed more words with him than she had ever done before, even when politeness dictated it because she was running with Rob. Just what did this mean? "All right." He led her to the booth where he'd dropped his jacket. Claudette seated herself with great ceremony after tugging his wrist momentarily in a successful effort to get him to remain standing during the procedure. Ted opened his mouth, shut it, and glared -- but this was better than the loud corrections to his manners she'd delivered while she was running with Rob. In fact, it was more like the subtle stuff she used to keep Rob tuned... Warily, he settled across from her and waved for her to continue. Well aware of the visual evidence of conspiracy, at least, Claudette leaned forward, "You were going to say that you think that Louise has changed her physical appearance?" "Yeah. Those..." Ted thought about it -- did he stand to gain anything by playing Claudette's little games? No... "... tits of hers..." Claudette's mouth twisted in distaste, but she said nothing. You had to give them SOME room, or they got all prickly... "I'm pretty sure they're all natural, Ted -- she's just been hiding them." "How do you hide THAT?" he demanded. "Well, you've SEEN what she WEARS..." Claudette clucked her tongue. "Louise is... repressed... at home, according to rumor. I know from gym class that she wears some pretty restrictive foundation garments -- and that they're a bit too small..." Ted shrugged. "Doesn't matter. It LOOKS different, which gives me an opening to claim it IS different, and it puts it on her to prove otherwise..." He grinned. 'Subtle, ' Claudette thought. This was actually an improvement over Rob, who sometimes missed nuances of manipulation and presentation. Ted moved up a notch. She nodded. "I see. That isn't it, is it?" "No, but why should I tell you?" Ted asked archly. "I'm thinking that if we can be honest with one another, maybe we can help each other," Claudette replied guardedly. What? Was this what it sounded like? The Ice Queen offering an alliance? For what? A setup to get Rob's (or Mary's) ass kicked? Ted eyed Claudette suspiciously, but decided that he had nothing to lose. "That jerk Dwayne didn't back me over Darla Jean -- so I figure if I do Louise, I'll be getting even. Besides, she's made herself... interesting. Should be easy; she's such a wimp, she'll roll right over, I bet. And Dwayne will probably ditch her if he has to put up with the idea of her comparing me to him in the sack..." Claudette nodded, amused but surprised. She'd expected Ted to come out with some disorganized gabble that either started or ended with, "Because I feel like it." Instead, his motives seemed to be pretty well organized. They still added up to, "Because I feel like it," but the support structure was clearly defined... "Was Dwayne's backing that important?" "It was if Darla Jean decided to scream, 'Rape!'," Ted replied. "She's a smart girl, though -- she knew that I would be able to create a reasonable doubt..." He mused a moment. "Decent fuck, too..." Claudette sighed. "Ted!" "Well, I wasn't 'making love' to her!" "Fine." Obviously, Ted was going to be a handful. It would probably be just as impossible to keep him out of other girls' panties as it had been Rob, especially after they got going and his popularity was on the climb -- and if you believed the rumor mill, he'd be making a lot of messes on the way, something Rob had somehow avoided in the main. On the other hand, Ted seemed to have a lot more sensitivity to the nuances of social situations... "I don't suggest that you repeat that, though. Darla Jean appears to have collected some interesting friends." "The geeks?" Ted waved them away. "Not a problem." Claudette shook her head. "In a direct physical encounter? No. But they are the one group most likely to outsmart you and leave you painted into a corner -- and they'll team up to do it!" Ted thought about that, and Claudette watched his brain take two out of three falls from his ego. "Maybe." "Certainly," Claudette argued. "In the short term, it would probably appear that you got away clean, but they would set some subtle trap..." Still, she was impressed; Ted was cunning, and he was NOT stupid! "Yeah." "Darla Jean is already recovering her reputation," Claudette argued. "Between Dwayne's defection and your reputation, your story becomes less believable daily." She mused a moment. "I don't suppose you took his feelings into account when you injected yourself into their encounter?" Ted cracked up. "Injected!" Sobering a bit, he replied, "No, I guess not. I kind of stuck it to him, too, I guess. The temptation was too great..." Claudette nodded. "See? You're your own worst enemy!" She sat back and eyed him, "I might be able to help you with that..." Ted's eyes narrowed. "What's in it for you?" Claudette sat forward. "I need a... partner. Direct attacks on Rob and Mary for their fickleness are starting to bounce off, and I'm not showing that I'm unaffected by the whole thing because I haven't replaced Rob yet. You're... credible, as a replacement, and if we work together you'll get even better, which benefits both of us." Ted frowned. "You're offering me a position as a boyfriend?" Suspicion darkened his features. "Like the deal you had with Rob?" "Yes, exactly. Only Rob reneged on it," Claudette insisted. 'Well, SOMEBODY did', Ted thought. "I operate a little different that Rob," he grunted. "Hmmm, yes," Claudette had the temerity to smile. "And it doesn't always help you. I propose to help you tune things, while maintaining your basic direction. In some ways, I'm finding that you are actually superior to Rob -- in your understanding of what is going on and how to take advantage of it, in particular. That certainly makes things easier..." "I guess..." Was she that blind? "So, this is for show, like with Rob?" Claudette frowned. "Rob wasn't for show. But you guys are... animals. Rob insisted on being... overly familiar... in private, then started wandering off with those -- you know -- Bang Nation." She assumed a prim expression. "I'm saving myself for marriage." Ted schooled his features. "That's... admirable, I guess. So, am I supposed to like, be with you all the time, or fool around with Bang Nation like Rob?" Claudette grimaced. "Are you kidding?" "Well, what are you going to do different to keep that from happening?" "Excuse me?" Claudette blinked in surprise. "Well, Rob went elsewhere because you weren't offering him any incentives to hang around," Ted replied. "What are you going to offer me?" He paused, then added, "There are other, lesser, things..." "Oh," Claudette murmured, obviously entertaining something new. "I'll have to think about that..." She sat for a moment, musing. Ted watched her, poker-faced, while he laughed inside. If she was really considering offering anything, it was probably empty kisses, or maybe being felt up a bit. Ted had other things in mind; if she wanted to keep her cherry, she'd better plan on blowing him, or offering him some of that bubble butt of hers... Better yet, he'd melt the Ice Queen -- or crush her, which was just as good -- and maybe better. Rob hadn't gotten through her chastity belt -- but he hadn't brought serious tools to bear, either. Ted would succeed where Rob had failed; THAT would show them all, once and for all, who was to be reckoned with around here! And then, once he had Claudette properly broken and on a leash -- and everybody knew it -- maybe he would accept a few interviews from Bang Nation... Claudette looked up. "So, why don't I present you to the girls, then?" "Why not?" Ted waved her out of the booth, then got up and followed, smiling sardonically. ------- "Check this out!" Rob nodded at the scene a few tables over, where Claudette was inserting Ted into her little group of hangers-on. Mary glanced over, chuckled. "THAT's a fine pair! Wait till they find out they're both sharks..." Rob shook his head. "I'm continually surprised that I put up with Claudette for as long as I did -- not only is she petty and self-centered -- now she's OBVIOUSLY stupid..." "I don't understand," Louise murmured weakly. "Claudette is obviously roping Ted in to be Rob's replacement," Mary amplified. "She probably figures that if she props him up and keeps him learning manners from under her thumb, he'll be a good puppet. But Ted's a bastard; Claudette may discover that SHE's the one with the strings..." Dwayne chuckled. "They deserve each other -- and while they're tied up dancing with each other, everybody else gets a break!" Rob shook his head. "I almost feel sorry for her. If she tries to treat him the way she treated me, Ted's gonna land on her with both feet!" Dwayne nodded sagely, and Rob continued, "This thing will end up either with Ted in jail for rape or Claudette on a leash -- one or the other!" Dwayne grinned. "Everybody wins!" Louise was aghast. "Really? Why don't you warn her?" Rob shrugged. "Why don't I warn HIM? Although I bet Ted knows, already -- he's a lot better grounded in reality than Claudette..." Mary reached out and patted Louise's hand. "Some things are better left alone, Honey. Dwayne is right -- they're both sharks, and as long as they're chewing on each other, nobody else is getting hurt. Since we're all four apparently targets, we're better off letting them learn about playing with fire on their own." ------- Rob and Mary were content to look on, amused, as Claudette went through the motions of inserting Ted into the consciousness of her hangers- on, but Louise was uncomfortable, and Dwayne sensed it. As a result, they very quickly finished their burgers and by mutual consent parted company with Rob and Mary. Once in Dwayne's pickup, they headed back to the park so that Louise could dress -- but the public restrooms were locked, so Dwayne headed for the local convenience store. On the way, Dwayne asked, "Are you okay? You seem... kind of antsy." Louise shuddered. "It's that Ted -- he's scary. The way he leans on people..." "Yeah," Dwayne agreed distantly. Rob had done him a major favor, interceding when he did against Ted. If they'd been alone, things might not have gone as well... Louis's next comment echoed the same thoughts. "He was so -- I don't know -- sneaky... If he'd caught me alone, I might have..." "Showed him your tits?" Dwayne picked it up. "He'd have liked that -- and he'd have never let up until you were absolutely ruined! You need to do as I say in this -- stay AWAY from Ted, and if he bothers you tell me immediately! And if you can't tell me, tell Mary, and she'll get Rob! Understand?" "Yes, Dwayne," Louise replied obediently. Then she added, softly, "Dwayne, I have a weakness for that sort of thing..." "Being bossed around? We'll get around it. I can do it, if it needs doing." Dwayne sighed. "That brings me to something, though..." "What?" Real fear colored Louise's expression. Was she going to lose Dwayne already? "It's about sex, and how you are, and how I am," Dwayne related. "I'm going to ask you a question, and I want to know the honest answer. Don't tell me what you think I want to hear, tell me the truth, okay?" "Okay." Louise's eyes were solemn. "If I told you that I wanted sex right now, you'd give it to me, wouldn't you? Whether you wanted to, or not?" "I..." Louise stopped, played scenarios in her head. "If you TOLD me?" "Yeah," Dwayne agreed. "If I TOLD you we were having sex -- not asked you -- TOLD you." "Yes," Louise agreed softly. "I would." The cab of a pickup truck wasn't Louis's dream location, but if Dwayne insisted, she'd cave. Especially if there was ANY indication that if she didn't she would lose him... "I figured that," Dwayne replied, nodding. "Now, YOU need to understand that that's NOT gonna happen! Okay?" "Okay..." Louise absorbed this, puzzled. She'd been mentally preparing herself to undress and lay back... "Look, you know about the Darla Jean thing," Dwayne amplified. "It wasn't my first time, but it was kind of a weird episode, right from the start. But until Ted showed up, the whole thing was consensual -- in fact, Darla Jean was more or less pushing things along!" Dwayne stared at the road a bit. "But then Ted showed up, and, suddenly, it was a rape scene..." He shook his head. "Darla Jean was gutsy; I can't believe how well she handled it -- but I didn't protect her properly..." Guilt weighed heavily on him, Louise could tell from his expression. "I was in no position to fight Ted, so I let it ride. I can remember her expression... betrayal, humiliation... Darla Jean is, well, hot, in bed -- I don't think I could keep up with her. Ted abused her -- and she took it, and still managed to enjoy herself -- and it wasn't something you let somebody who's raping you know, you know? Ted loved it -- like it justified what he was doing, or something..." He looked sad. "Ted kept taunting me about how lousy I was doing, and Darla Jean seemed to agree, the way she was acting -- she kept urging me on... Now I know that she was just trying to salvage some good from the whole mess, but at the time..." He shook his head. "I got mad and rammed her -- and she took it -- and later Ted teased me into making her give me head again -- and she took that, too! But it made me as much of a rapist as Ted..." "I don't think so," Louise said quietly. "In fact, I heard you took care of Darla Jean, pretty much..." "Well, maybe. Before and after. But while Ted was there, I'm not sure there was much difference between us." Dwayne glanced over at Louise. "Look, I know that you like to be told what to do -- and, normally, I don't think that will be a problem. But the first time, you're gonna have to ask for it, understand? I need to get past the whole rape thing, see? I can't have you looking at me like that..." "I--I guess," Louise nodded. "You're right; I'm going to want you to tell me what to do -- it's just the way I am! When you talk about that thing with Darla Jean, it's exciting to me, you know? Maybe someday you'll tell me the whole thing... I understand the rape thing, though, I think." "Well, I want to be clear," Dwayne replied. "It's like this -- I don't want you to look back on our first time and remember being reluctant, or doing anything you didn't want to. After that, well, maybe it will make it better for you if I boss you around -- but the first time, it's gonna be because you want it. You're gonna have to ask. You understand? You're gonna have to ask!" "Okay," Louise murmured, surprised by his intensity. "I--I can do that..." Actually, she was pleased, both ways; the idea of Dwayne controlling her made her hot, but she had fears regarding her first time. This was perfect... Speaking of perfect -- Dwayne found the turnoff he was looking for, a dirt track leading off a back street not far from Louise's home. Turning in, he followed it for some distance, while Louise sat beside him, watching, mildly nervous at being removed from 'civilization'. A clearing opened up on the left side, and Dwayne pulled into it, "Think this is private enough?" "Uh, enough for what?" "A little necking," Dwayne replied. "Not sex -- I don't want to do it in the cab of this thing. But I figured it might be nice to cuddle a while before we put you back together..." "Oh! Cool!" Louise cuddled right up, offering her lips. THIS was what she'd been waiting for, all evening! "One second -- what time is it?" "Ten-fifteen," Dwayne replied. "How long to get me home?" "Ten minutes," Dwayne replied confidently. "We should plan on fifteen. Do you have some kind of alarm? If I'm late..." "Ten already includes some padding," Dwayne related. "But we'll do fifteen, just to be safe..." He whipped up his wristwatch and set an alarm. "Okay, we're good." Louise's smile lit the cab as she crawled into his arms. Two minutes later, despite the fact that their lips never separated, Louise's blouse was open from neck to waistband, and Dwayne was teasing the living daylights out of her right nipple. Louise broke the kiss, locking eyes with Dwayne as she shrugged out of the blouse, "I have to put the bra on, later, anyway..." Dwayne smiled and leaned forward, capturing her nipple in his mouth -- and Louise gasped as she clutched his head to her chest. If he knew what that did to her! God! "Stop! Stop!" "Huh?" Dwayne rose up, perplexed. He'd TOLD her he wasn't going to do her in the pickup... "I need to do something about my skirt!" Louise explained, rucking it up around her waist. "I don't get it..." Dwayne was thoroughly confused. "Sucking my nipples like that makes me... wet," Louise amplified, blushing. "I can't stain my skirt..." "Oh!" Dwayne got it, but wasn't sure where that left him. "Um, do you have something I can put on the seat?" Louise asked, holding her skirt bunched at her waist. "Uh... Yeah!" Dwayne reached behind the seat for his gym bag and extracted a towel. "Kinda smelly..." he mumbled as he unwadded it and spread it below Louise, who was holding herself up by pressing her ass into the seat back and pushing against the dashboard. "It's gonna get even smellier!" Louise giggled as she settled her bare ass on it. "Now, where were we?" She reached up and tugged a bemused Dwayne back into contact with her breast. "I thought you wanted me to stop?" Dwayne murmured. "Only until I could catch the drips," Louise gasped, as he resumed nibbling and suckling. "I love this!" "You get that wet?" Dwayne asked, surprised. "Yes," Louise gasped. "I get really drippy when I... masturbate. I have to be careful -- Momma has fits if she thinks I'm doing it!" She threw her head back and groaned; another few minutes of this, and Dwayne was going to end up doing her right here, after all... Further questions were superseded by a chewy nipple, as far as Dwayne was concerned -- but the drippy thing did sit in the back of his mind... It sat a lot closer to the surface with Louise. The mouth working on her breast caused wash after wash of damp sensation in her vagina, and wave after wave of sensation in her clitoris. And that itch surfaced a craving... "Dwayne? Can I... see it?" "Huh?" It was obvious what 'it' was -- but Dwayne was surprised, anyway. "Uhhh, well..." "No?" Louise obviously wasn't happy to hear the reluctance in his voice. "Well, if you do, I might..." "Really?" Louise's tone said it was a compliment. "If you touch it, I might... probably would," Dwayne admitted, embarrassed. "And that's bad?" "It could be... messy." Dwayne had substituted fingers for lips and teeth while he made replies. Now he sat back a bit, without letting up, so he could look Louise in the eye. "Your mother would REALLY freak if you showed up with THAT on you!" "What if I..." Louise didn't have to finish. Dwayne thought his cock was going to rip a hole in his jeans! "Uuhhh... What about you?" "We'll... think of something. Please? Pretty please?" Dwayne sat there, amazed. Never in his life... "Well, okay. I probably won't last. But I guess then I can work on you..." "Get it out! Get it out! Please!" Louise was beside herself! This would do it -- this would cement Dwayne to her! But even aside from that, the idea was so incredibly arousing! A cock! SHE was going to make a boy cum! Dwayne scooted out from under the steering wheel and undid his jeans, raising himself and fighting and tugging to get them off. Louise had her hands on him before his shorts hit his knees, leaning in close, her hot breath blowing across his sensitive glans. "It's big. And the tip -- what a beautiful color!" Jacking him seemed to come naturally to her. Dwayne gritted his teeth. "I won't be able to hold out long if you keep doing that!" "Okay, just tell me..." "You'd better... cover it..." Dwayne's voice held a note of strain that Louise had never heard before. "Okay." Her tongue flicked out to sample the stuff oozing from the tip. "Jeezus!" Dwayne went stiff as a board, and his hand cupped the back of Louise's head, but didn't press. Louise took the hint, though, and lowered her mouth over the tip. "EEEYAAAAAAHHHH!" Dwayne wailed as a wet furnace descended over his sensitive glans. "I'm gonna... Hrrrgh! Hrrrgh! Hrrgh!" Louise felt the throb of the first pulse of Dwayne's ejaculation, rather than really hearing his exclamation. She was fully focused on the amazing, stiff handful of flesh whose spongy tip lay on her tongue. It was a little gamey, but, hey, it HAD been living in underwear, after all! Heck, SHE was a little gamey and she was just DRIPPING! Knowing it was coming, and FEELING the underside of his cock pulse and TASTING the flood of ejaculate that poured out of it were two different things, though, and she was taken by surprise despite all of the warnings. Still, there was an obvious requirement to swallow, and she had no problem fulfilling it. There were three more big pulses, then things trailed off, Dwayne's cock still throbbing, but not delivering much, allowing her to evaluate the taste of his seed. It was... okay, salty and thick, meaty -- she decided she liked it. This she would do again, if he would let her -- many times! A tremendous feeling of accomplishment suffused her, and she washed his erection with her tongue and looked up at him, smiling happily. "Was it good?" "Was it!" Dwayne gasped, shuddering through the aftermath. "It was GREAT!" Louise continued to milk his hard cock, slowing down the realization, but it came, eventually, "What about you?" "I'm okay." The nature of Louise's smile said she was willing to settle. "No, you're not. You yourself said you're dripping. I want to see it!" Dwayne insisted. "Turn around and face the other way -- that's about the best we can do in here... "Are you sure?" Louise was dubious, but excited. "Yeah, it'll be okay." "Okay..." Louise, on hands and knees, began carefully rotating, working to keep her long skirt up off her ass. "This is pretty embarrassing..." "It'll be worth it, I bet." Louise got past the tight part and her ass came into view -- and Dwayne thanked God for the bench seats in his somewhat antiquated pickup! Louise had a nice, round ass above a pair of big thighs that nonetheless Dwayne could see the tendons flexing in as she adjusted herself -- they were muscle, not fat. The calves had the same mix of size and definition, and the ankles sported the thickness one would expect, attached to those legs. Dwayne remembered the whole rig looked pretty athletic in gym shorts the day before... Her main attraction, however, was a heavily bearded clam. Dwayne's experience with real pussy was limited, but not nonexistent -- and Louise had by far the most luxuriant patch of pubic hair that Dwayne had ever seen! On the other hand, it wasn't obscuring anything; Louise's inner lips were open, showing her pink center in the dim light of the instrument panel. Dwayne advanced a finger toward it and encountered dampness from the outlying wisps before ever making contact with her channel itself -- obviously, Louise hadn't been exaggerating when she said she got VERY wet... Louise gasped, and Dwayne contented himself for the moment with running a horizontal finger up and down along the very edges of her inner lips, tickling the hairs there. Louise reacted by grunting and pushing her ass back, which got her firm contact on her clitoral hood as his finger swept down, eliciting a second grunt. When he started moving his now soaking finger back up, Louise lowered her torso toward the seat to facilitate following the contact with her ass. Dwayne chuckled. "I thought you were good to go?" "Ungh! I changed my mind!" Louise gasped. This whole finger- chasing thing had her SOOOO hot! "Please... Please..." What she wanted was pretty clear, but Dwayne hadn't done much of it. "Let me know if I'm doing okay," he admonished, then laid his knuckle over the bump at the base of her wet slit and began to rub, thinking, 'I'm gonna nickname her Honey; she sure makes a lot of it... ' "Oooooooohhhhhh!!" Louise managed to get out before converting to labored breathing. Ninety nine percent of her attention became focused on the act of maintaining contact with that teasing knuckle; the other one percent was vaguely grateful that Dwayne couldn't see her face, which was bright red, veins bulging as the novel experience of having someone ELSE bring her to orgasm brought her to white heat. This situation went on for about ninety seconds before she gasped out, "More?" "Oh, sure!" Dwayne thought about it. Working with his right hand wasn't the perfect thing, given the way they were arrayed on the seat; maybe he should use his left... He brought it into play, gently swiping the index finger along her wet, pink slit, then seating it to the first knuckle in the narrow opening at the top and replacing the knuckle on her clitoris with his thumb. Thus anchored, he started wriggling the thumb over the bump of her clitoris. Louise took the passenger armrest in a death grip and started to shake all over. Sparks were flying; she couldn't see the door for the waves of them washing the air before her eyes, "AaaaaAAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!" Louise's vaginal mouth started pulsing around Dwayne's finger, and suddenly his whole hand was soaked! Louise undulated, her ass clenching and unclenching while she grunted, "Ungh! Ungh! Ungh! Ungh!" In a moment, she went into a semi-collapsed state, gasping, waving an arm back over her waist in an effort to push Dwayne's hand away, "Too much! Too intense!" Dwayne grinned from ear to ear. That was EASY! Louise lit up like a Christmas tree in no time! This deal was gonna be GREAT!!! He reached down between her calves to collect the towel and wipe his hand, finding the cloth to be seriously soaked; he KNEW she hadn't peed; no, Louise was one of those legendary squirting women! Just when he thought things couldn't get any cooler... "You okay, Honey?" "Oh, God, yes!" Louise gasped. "How bad is the mess?" "Well, it's surprising, but I don't think too much escaped the towel," Dwayne guessed. "You're pretty amazing!" "Is that good or bad?" Louise asked timidly. If Dwayne was totally grossed out, she was done... "It's GREAT as far as I'm concerned!" Dwayne exclaimed. 'Oh, thank God!' "Can I sit up now?" "Give me a second to make sure..." Dwayne swiped vigorously between Louise's splayed knees with the wet towel. "That's about the best I can do with this -- hang on..." He reached behind the seat and fished out a sweatshirt, pressing it into service as an impromptu towel. "That's better. Here, why don't you sit on it..." Louise raised herself and gingerly reoriented to settle on the sweatshirt-covered patch of seat. "I got real drippy, didn't I?" she asked anxiously. "Yeah," Dwayne grinned. "Pretty cool..." "What time is it?" Dwayne's wristwatch started beeping in answer to her question. "Oh, boy! We'd better get me back into my clothes!" Ten minutes later, primly dressed, she leaned into the cab to get one last kiss from Dwayne before walking up the block to her home. "I'll call you later!" "Only if it's safe!" Dwayne admonished. "I don't want you grounded!" "Okay!" Louise waved as Dwayne pulled away, then rounded the corner and trudged up the block to her door. Mother was right there, hovering, when she came through the door. "It's about time! Three more minutes, and you'd have been grounded, Young Lady! Why couldn't your girlfriend drop you out front?" "She had to get back onto Thames Street, headed the other way," Louise lied. "Besides, I made it..." "Hmmph! It was probably a boy!" Helene groused. "God help you if I catch you with one!" She frowned a moment in thought. "Let me get a look at you! Open up that blouse!" "Mother!" But Louise's fingers were already at the buttons. "Don't argue with me!" Helene wasted the warning, anyway. She examined Louise's brassiere for disarray, but they'd been careful; there was nothing amiss. "Out of the skirt!" Louise did as she was told. Fortunately, she'd been pantyless when she flooded the seat with her secretions; that was innocent looking, too. Helene could have SWORN that she'd gotten a whiff of something, but there was no obvious evidence... (Actually, the front of Louise's skirt hadn't QUITE escaped the flood -- but it was all but invisible, due to the color.) "All right, get out of my sight! I have to get up early to go in to church and prepare for the first service by seven-thirty -- no doubt while YOU waste your morning in bed! You be sure to make the eleven o'clock, or else! I won't be embarrassed by your tardiness!" Louise's, "Yes, Mother," went ignored as Helene stalked off, mumbling to herself about youth and ingratitude. Louise went upstairs to her room and flopped on the bed in her bra and panties, remembering the incredible taste and feel of Dwayne's cock and the feel of his hands manipulating her pussy. She couldn't WAIT to feel him inside her, even if it meant that she was a total slut! The very first opportunity that came along, she was going to give Dwayne the green light, and she did NOT care AT ALL what anyone ELSE thought about it! Of course, she'd be old and gray before she got it, the way things were... Louise wanted to masturbate, but that took some preparation, the way she got wet -- besides, Mother might hear her if she got noisy, and then she'd be in to complain about how she'd been disturbed and how she'd be tired at church. Louise couldn't get in the way of her mother going to church -- Sunday morning during the early services was the only peace and quiet Louise got... Wait a minute! Dwayne's cell phone rang as he pulled into his parent's driveway. "Hello?" "Dwayne?" The timid voice on the other end was familiar. Might as well try out terms of endearment. "Yes, Honey?" There was a pause while Louise's breath caught. 'Honey?!' Louise got control of her runaway glee and asked, "Ummm, look, I know it's kind of weird, but can you come see me tomorrow? In the morning?" In the morning? "I guess. Where?" "My house. Mother will be at church from like seven-thirty until noon..." "Oh?" The lights went on. "Okay, sure!" "I have to go to the eleven o'clock service, but still..." Louise amplified. Dwayne did the math. Two, two-and-a-half -- maybe three hours... "That's cool..." "Great!" Louise enthused. "You might want to park around the corner or something and walk up, but she should be gone by seven-thirty. Oh, and Dwayne?" "Yeah?" "Bring rubbers. Please?" Holy shit! "I'll be sure to!" "Okay. Good night!" "Good night, Honey." Dwayne fired up the truck and backed out of the driveway; he was off to the all-night drugstore! No sense in messing things up by relying on those old, moth-eaten rubbers in his sock drawer... Louise hung up, sat there a moment, and whispered, "Honey," to herself, smiling fondly. Things were going REALLY WELL with Dwayne! She sneaked back to bed, but that didn't work -- she was too excited! Off to the bathroom, to sit on the toilet and run her fingers over her dripping gash where it wouldn't make a mess... It took three rounds, splayed across the toilet, her hand a blur while her eyes rolled up and she whined and panted into a rolled washcloth jammed between her teeth, before she was exhausted enough to drag herself to bed... ------- The music was still loud, but the crowd was beginning to thin -- older couples just didn't do the three a.m. thing any more. Caitlin sat drinking her fourth strawberry daiquiri and awaiting Howard's return from the men's room. Things had been pretty good, actually; Howard had no idea what he was doing at the start, and he still made like a scarecrow, occasionally, but mostly he was okay, especially during slow dances. Once he'd gotten past serious worries over where his feet were and started carefully cuddling, she'd let him gain ground slowly until they were probably ready to try kissing if the big chicken could manage to get up the guts. Certainly, he was a major improvement over some of the drunks who'd pawed her here in the past... At this point, Caitlin's big worry was work on Monday. If things went poorly, she might end up out of a job -- certainly, things would be uncomfortable for some time... And if they went well? That had a range of solutions, too. In Caitlin's experience, it was almost better if things went poorly -- then she wasn't saddled with some guy who thought they had a relationship... Howard came back, moving carefully. Caitlin suspected that he was well-lubricated, despite only having had four or five drinks. Maybe he'd pass out, after... Caitlin couldn't remember exactly what caused her to decide to fuck Howard despite the possible issues -- but she had made the decision, and once committed to it, had begun looking forward to that part of the evening with more and more anticipation. Now, it was time to push things a bit, so they could enjoy the whole thing more without running out of energy. One more dance, and then she'd start dropping hints about going back to his place. Howard had been in the men's room for the past five minutes, nerving himself for the challenges of the approach. Sex didn't concern him that much -- oh, sure, he WANTED it, but he wasn't CONCERNED about it. He'd had sex before, a number of times, and even if the hookers involved had lied about his capabilities (and they undoubtedly had), he was still experienced. No, Howard was worried about kissing -- something he had an experience level of zilch for! Hookers didn't kiss, and Howard's dating skills -- well, he was here, wasn't he? At his age? Somehow, he had to thread his way through a maze of increasing intimacy without stepping on a land mine and get to the point where Caitlin would consider sleeping with him -- and, preferably, more... The band struck up a fast dance as he crossed the floor, and he gamely reached for Caitlin, who apparently enjoyed them, but she pulled him into his seat, "Let's do the slow stuff. The fast stuff is pretty impersonal." Howard sat gratefully, but all he could do was fidget -- speech was impossible for the next couple of minutes. Caitlin just smiled and maintained control of his hand, which gave him something stupid to do -- mostly patterns of subtle squeezes. He glanced around at the bouncing couples, envying them their energy, then looked back at Caitlin, who was sipping her daiquiri and watching some couple or another -- until she detected him; then she would turn to him and smile for a moment before going back to looking at others. In a bit, however, something slow came on, and Caitlin cued him that it was time to dance. Howard was only capable of the simple stuff, but it was VERY pleasant, and he had been slowly cranking Caitlin in closer since he started getting confident about where he was putting his feet. Caitlin was somewhat bony, but then so was he -- who was he to complain? Besides, she was a major improvement over what he had come to think of as his pool of available females in THAT department! 'Corpulent' and 'grasping' was usually descriptive of THAT bunch of husband-hunters -- and Caitlin fit neither of the descriptors... Caitlin short-sheeted Howard's slow approach curve by getting her right thigh between his, offering the opportunity to ride his leg a bit. Howard, who had been concentrating on the top half of things -- and had just reached the point where her unimpressive bust was against his chest fairly regularly -- was taken somewhat by surprise, but he had seen others on the floor doing it and he had a good idea how to handle it. The breasts went away, which was too bad, but it was amazing what you could do anchored more or less at the crotch; things got downright nasty in no time. Howard found himself grinding a hard-on into Caitlin's hip -- and her smile said that she knew it was there; besides, his thigh was becoming intimately familiar with her pubic bone, and if he couldn't FEEL her breasts, he had a fine view right down that open blouse. He nerved himself -- time to do something brave... Things were looking up from Caitlin's viewpoint. The stiffy in the hollow of her hip appeared to be decent-sized and Howard was taking full advantage of opportunities offered him to rub her clit on his leg. Caitlin was ready for dick, and when Howard took advantage of a point in the song to pull her in and lay his lips on her neck, the slot-machine came up with three sevens -- it was time to stop fooling around! "Ooog! There's an animal under there! I think we'd better stop trying to dance before I fall down!" A somewhat bewildered Howard let himself be led from the floor, but Caitlin only stopped to pick up her purse. "Come on, let's go -- it's getting late," Caitlin amplified, seeing his confusion. Howard moved mechanically through the coat check while he tried to figure out what had gone wrong. Was it the kiss? How should he recover? He handed Caitlin into the car and started off. Caitlin caught his tension and misunderstood it; she assumed that he was trying to nerve himself to ask her back to his place, and had no idea that he was under the impression that he had made a mistake! Her comment rescued him, anyway, though: "Let's go to your place -- I do NOT want to find those two kids naked on the couch again! It's too distracting!" "Oh! Sure!" Howard busied himself altering course, as he'd been instinctively heading for Caitlin's. Caitlin reached out and rubbed his leg. "What's wrong? You're so quiet..." "I thought I'd screwed up," Howard replied. "Oh, no!" Caitlin replied. "You're doing fine! What made you think that?" "Well, I kissed your neck, and the next thing I knew we were outside..." "Oh, THAT! That's me, I'm afraid. I'm... not used to slow romance. Actually, I think you could say that it worked better than expected. I told you that I don't do relationships; I have a habit of cutting to the chase when things look good..." "Okay." Howard looked perplexed. "I know NOTHING about seduction..." "Why don't you just consider me seduced, then? I want to have sex, Dear -- okay?" "Okay..." "Look, I know it's ass-backwards, but it avoids problem areas for both of us..." "Uhhh, you'll have to overlook my mistakes," Howard replied nervously. "Ummm, what about the other piece?" Caitlin patted his leg. "Maybe we can backfill it, if it looks like a good idea. How's that?" "Okay." Howard shrugged in mixed confusion and exasperation. Caitlin shrugged out of the bolero jacket and started unbuttoning her blouse the moment she was inside Howard's apartment, while she was still glancing around at the mild disarray -- which both surprised and upset Howard. "Stop!" "Excuse me?" Caitlin frowned. "Look, I, uh, can't just jump into bed like this -- it's too much like being with a hooker," Howard confessed. "It's not what I want for either of us..." "Oh." Caitlin stopped and re-assessed the situation. What DID Howard want? "So..." "Ummm, kissing might be nice." "Oh, okay! Foreplay! Cool! Great idea!" Caitlin had been afraid that Howard was chickening out -- something that would leave her with an itch and lousy prospects of getting it scratched, at this time of night. She moved into his arms, "More dancing, maybe?" Howard frowned. "I probably don't have anything slow..." "The radio? I think I know a station..." "Okay." Howard led her to the stereo, and soon soft music was coming from the speakers. "Nice." Caitlin flowed into his arms, which was even nicer, and they took up where they left off at the dance club, locked together. "You can do that neck thing again," Caitlin murmured. "I like that." Her hands started roaming his back. "I think dancing is about as close to sex as you can get with your clothes on, don't you? Uuummmm..." Howard's lips on her neck silenced her for a time, then she started pulling his dress shirttail out of his trousers at the back, murmuring, "We don't have to worry about getting messed up, here..." Howard pulled back, but that only set up a clumsy kiss... ... Which got better, quickly. Caitlin forgot about shirttails and wrapped her arms around what was apparently a suddenly ravenous Howard -- the man had eight arms, and she couldn't see them, anyway, while kissing him -- and that was VERY pleasant. His back was harder and more muscular than expected, too -- but then, he was as thin as she was... The first time his hands drifted over her ass and increased the pressure of her mons on his thigh, Caitlin decided that it was time to shelve all worries over their working relationship. When his hands wormed under her blouse at the waist, she went back at his shirt, wanting to feel his skin, too. The pair basically stopped dancing, merely swaying to what may or may not have been the beat at any given moment -- they were dancing to a different tune, one playing to the beat of the drums in their chests. After a few minutes, Caitlin pulled back, gasping, "NOW the blouse? I'm getting all sweaty... In fact, I should hit the bathroom for a minute..." "Okay." Howard was wild-eyed and sounded strained -- and his eyeglasses were visibly smeared. Wiping them on his shirttail, he asked distractedly, "Want something to drink?" "Sure. Where's the bathroom?" Howard pointed, and she took off. "Just something wet," she threw over her shoulder. "A Sprite or something?" "Okay." Howard headed for the kitchen. Wow! Whatever it took, he HAD to get more of this! Caitlin was just HOT! This went 'way beyond anything he'd imagined! Hmmmm, Sierra Mist, or Seven-up? Caitlin plopped on the toilet seat and took stock. This was better than her last half-dozen run-ins, and they hadn't had sex yet! If Howard was ANY good, she was probably going to make a fool of herself! Oh, well, it would be worth it, during the affair, and a great memory, afterward... She stood, dropped the skirt, pantyhose, and panties, and plopped back down on the toilet to pee. The pantyhose she could ditch, but she'd better keep the panties, so as not to seem too anxious; the poor dear had that hooker thing... Well, the bra could go -- she'd throw the blouse back on as a sop to propriety and let him get under it; hopefully, the saggy things wouldn't turn him off... Humming, she started on the wardrobe adjustments. After that, she wiped, wondering how rank she was down there -- well, some guys liked it... She took a second dab at her damp crotch, stood, flushed, adjusted the skirt, and made her way out, leaving the discarded underclothes -- she hadn't brought in her purse, and wandering back out with a handful of undergarments was a bit too obvious for poor Howard... One look told Howard that Caitlin had made wardrobe modifications -- although he wasn't sure what, exactly. No, hold it, there was a certain jiggle -- yes, things had changed in the chest area! That might not be it, but it was plenty, especially since the blouse was still (or again) unbuttoned more than it normally was... Caitlin took the soda, but kept coming until she was in Howard's arms, "That's better -- not so bound up..." Her breasts rubbed his lower ribcage, feeling soft without the support of the bra. They hit a bit lower, but Howard wasn't about to complain, given the change in texture. "As long as you're comfortable," he murmured tonelessly, then grimaced. What a stupid comment! Caitlin, however, never noticed. Instead, she backed off, putting the soda on the coffee table, and went for his shirt buttons. "You must be a bit sweaty, too! Why don't you come out of that shirt? You're wearing a T-shirt, right?" She cocked her head, eyeing him archly. "You could quite properly go with less..." "Well, maybe," Howard murmured, stepping back instinctively, "but we haven't gotten there yet. I'll stick to the shirt, rather than showing off my sunken chest without a T-shirt." He started unbuttoning the cuffs of his dress shirt. "Okay, you handle that while I keep the blood flowing..." Caitlin reached up and collected his head in her hands for a kiss. 'Like I need THAT... ' Howard thought. His dick was about to rip a hole in his slacks... He accepted the kiss, got out of the shirt, and closed in on Caitlin, who started worming her hands under his T-shirt immediately. Howard defeated the blouse similarly, reveling in the feel of her smooth skin, ridged from beneath by her ribcage. Her breasts were out of play for the moment, pressed between their bodies -- but he had plenty of skin to feel... Caitlin did, too. She'd settled for the less-than-appetizing on a number of occasions, unable to obtain better; Howard felt better, smelled better, tasted better -- well, you name it, he apparently did it better than recent competition. Now, if he only fucked better... ------- Chapter 52: Various Completions There was a knock on Mary Nally's bedroom door. Mary levered herself up on the couch, "Come in!" "Hi, Punkin." "Hi, Pop." "Your mother's all proud of herself for her meddling." "Yeah, I know." Mary had stayed upstairs when she detected the roaring fight her parents were having at dinnertime. "How bad is it?" "Bad. I let it all hang out, since she was. Let her know that things weren't peachy and that I wasn't a monk." Arthur settled in the recliner and started polishing his eyeglasses with his tie. "As far as I'm concerned, you're no longer grounded -- but your mother is another matter. Who knows? There may be divorce in the air..." "Really?" This WAS bad! "Yeah." Arthur sat a moment, musing. "I think your mother may have seen someone, 'way back, and she decided that I wasn't anything much... I've tried to be good, but that just meant I drifted into odd territory." "Like?" "Peep booths. Adult theaters. Anonymous meetings with others who needed sex as much as I did." Mary nodded. "Guys, right?" Arthur nodded. "I was trying to justify things -- to say I was being faithful, after a fashion... Of course, it's easier that way -- women want the exclusive thing. Guys just want sex..." "Yeah, I know," Mary agreed. "Did you give Momma anything specific to worry about?" "No." "Maybe she'll cool down." "The racist thing has her going hot and heavy -- and the homosexual aspects are icing on the cake." Arthur shook his head. "Look, I'm not giving them up!" Mary insisted. "I'm not asking you to," Arthur replied. "But your mother can make trouble for them..." "She already tried!" Mary rasped. "She called Teddy's mom, and tried to get him into trouble -- but it didn't happen. Teddy came clean with his Ma and everything is cool!" "I heard about that," her father replied, "although she presented it differently." Mary mused a moment. "If she calls Stick's folks, his daddy is likely to laugh at her, since we already gave them the cover story." She grinned. "Maybe he'll make some comment about her being jealous of me over black dick..." "Oh, man!" Arthur rubbed his face, but he was grinning. "What I wouldn't give to see THAT!" "Which one, Pop?" Mary rejoined, "Stick's Daddy teasing Momma, or her taking some?" Arthur sobered. "Well, both, actually. It might take the heat off of me... Besides, if someone got past her crap and got that thing working again, we ALL might be happier!" He sighed. "In the meantime, things are out in the open. I called her a hateful, frigid bitch, a racist, a homophobe, and fourteen other kinds of intolerant cunt -- but she wasn't doing a lot of listening and she assumed the worst when it came to MY activities." He sighed. "My secretary is likely to catch Hell -- and she doesn't deserve it -- but she's almost sixty, and if Irma has any sense, she'll realize..." "You ought to go out and get something nice, Pop," Mary declared, "while there is still time!" "It's probably already too late," Arthur sighed. "Well, don't let ME hold you up if you need to move on -- I love Momma, but she's not good to you -- and if she's going to go after me, too..." Mary shrugged. "We'll see. Good night, Punkin." "G'night, Pop." Arthur headed for the den, having decided that sleeping in his recliner was preferable to being in the same room with his wife. That left Irma plenty of time to scheme about ways to be rid of Mary's black boyfriend... ------- Leticia was pretty sure that Boris was asleep, but unsure what that meant for her. She'd not been allowed to leave after the ass-fuck; instead, Boris had made her crawl into his lap while he reclined in his recliner, wedging his softened cock against her extremely sore ass while he watched soft porn on cable and played with her nipples -- all the while complaining about her small titties... Now, he appeared to be asleep, and she needed to pee -- what was the answer, here? Well, the bladder thing was urgent; she would cross the other bridge when she came to it. She struggled up carefully; Boris continued to snore gently. Pleased, she padded off to the bathroom. That business was easily handled. Leticia returned to the sitting room and stood over Boris, eyeing him in the flickering light of the softly murmuring television. Now what? She couldn't imagine getting back onto Boris's lap without waking him, and was uncertain what the outcome of that might be. On the other hand, if she returned to her quarters without a release from the big bear, Mr. Wilson would punish her even if HE didn't! Idly, she took him in; he was wide, squat -- but not fat -- she had learned THAT the hard way! Oh, he was thick in the middle, but he could toss her around like she was nothing while pile-driving her with that fat cock of his... Boris did not open his eyes, but suddenly he rumbled, "You should be kneeling on floor..." 'Oh, shit!' Leticia's knees gave of their own accord; she cleaned up the position after they thumped on the floor so that she was kneeling properly upright, legs spread, hands on her thighs. Boris made a production of opening his eyes. "Good. I would not want to have to open your tushie again tonight..." Leticia couldn't agree more! "No, Sir." "Go to the bed and make yourself wet. I wish to do things the regular way." Leticia nodded and rose. "Little one! Crawl!" Leticia stopped, dropped to hands and knees, and resumed heading for the bedroom, chastening herself. Had he told her to crawl everywhere? She didn't remember that... Boris levered the chair to its upright position, silently amused. Best to keep her jumping, and set high standards early. So, should he get another blowjob? Enjoy those thick negress's lips? Or fuck her again? Fuck. Definitely. He got up, scratching his chest, and ambled into the bedroom, flicking off the TV on the way. Leticia, flat on her back with her legs splayed and both hands in her crotch, watched the big bear enter the room. Getting wet wasn't that hard tonight; she was already working three fingers in her tunnel while whipping her clit with her other hand. It was as embarrassing as Hell to masturbate like that, but, hey, if he liked it... Besides, she'd done it the day before. Boris DID like it, too! "So, you know what it is to get ready for Boris, eh? Good!" he approved. Walking around to the side of the bed, he took her head in his hands and repositioned her using it as a handle, causing her to scramble a bit. "Continue, but give Boris your lips... Ahhhh... Little titties you may have, but you know how to suck..." His thick cock disappeared into Leticia's mouth. Holding her by the head, he pumped himself in and out a few times, then held still while she laved him with her tongue. More pumping, for a half-dozen strokes, then another pause while she sucked and lapped on her own... Something about the involuntary portions of the blowjob -- when he manhandled her head and jammed his thick cock into her mouth -- set off washes of wetness in Leticia's vaginal passage -- along with making her more than happy to conduct the more voluntary actions. The whole thing enhanced her masturbation, which fed back on the blowjob, too. Leticia was taking big breaths through her nose, not because Boris was interfering with her breathing, but purely from excitement. Boris withdrew his cock from Leticia's mouth, the pop as her lips let go an indication of just how into the blowjob Leticia had gotten. "We fuck, now." He circled around and got up on the bed. Leticia stopped masturbating; it was apparent that foreplay, such as it was, was over -- but then, she was in pretty good shape, anyway, from the masturbation and the face-fuck. She raised her knees, Boris knelt up and placed his blunt cock at her opening, and Leticia reflected that this night's effort probably wouldn't compare with the previous one; after all, Boris had already cum in her ass... She was wrong. "Grab your knees," Boris grunted, then proceeded to grasp her by the hips and pull her onto his thick joint as if she were an inflatable doll. Leticia's eyes popped, and her mouth opened to emit a squeal of pain brought on by the abrupt insertion, but Boris grunted, "Nyet! Silence!" and she removed the vocal component, settling for a whooshing breath. At that point, the fucking machine went to work and Leticia realized that Boris's energy didn't seem to be sapped by his earlier efforts after all! He shoveled his hands under her just above her narrow hips, keeping her from being pushed up the bed by his pounding attack as his battering ram of a cock forced her open again and again, penetrating her until his pubic bone smashed into hers over her clit. There was no escape, and the pounding was relentless; Leticia HAD to react! Boris was ironing her inner lining and crashing into her clit twice a second; Leticia hauled on her knees, hunching herself -- which lessened the impact on her clitoris, but gave Boris a straighter shot into the depths of her quaking tunnel. That penetration and the fact that softer was better where clitoral contact was concerned put Leticia on the rollercoaster ride to her first orgasm of the evening. Thirty seconds later, Leticia lost it, dropping her grip on her knees and instinctively arching herself as she wrapped her arms around Boris's neck and crushed herself to him, wailing out her completion. Boris took this interruption in his own quest for orgasm in stride, chuckling, "Little slut enjoys her work, eh? You like riding Boris's cock?" Since Leticia was obviously unable to respond for the moment, Boris merely chuckled again and resumed pounding, powering right through her period of rigidity and the collapse that followed. When she started showing signs of resuming full consciousness, Boris grunted, "We are not done yet, Little One -- you must take Boris's seed again! Be ready -- Boris will get HIS now!" With that, he slid his hands up under Leticia's shoulders, lowering himself, and resumed jack-hammering her twat -- faster, if anything. He began nibbling and sucking at her neck, something that started gently but escalated until he was nipping her and emitting guttural growls -- but Leticia was already far gone on the way to her second cumming, and all the work on her neck did was raise her temperature! Leticia started shaking, a sure sign that a big one was coming -- and Boris rose up and howled, "Now it comes! Now you take it! Now you be WOMAN!!! HAAAAAA!!!!" Once again, he scooped her up and manhandled her up and down on his hot poker the half-dozen times that it took to bring him to his final extremity, then erupted inside her, flooding her distended gash with his boiling cum. Leticia felt the first shot blast into her passage, spurting onto her cervix, and she went wild, the promised orgasm stiffening her in a frozen arch supported by Boris's heavy cock and his powerful hands. Boris continued to pound himself into her crotch, howling, for a half-dozen strokes before grinding her crotch into his while she undulated to the waves of her orgasm. Finally, she relaxed, and went limp -- and Boris rode her dead weight to the bed, collapsing atop her, his energy finally leached away, his last thought as he rolled off the skinny negress a vague intention of offering a word of approval that was snatched away by unconsciousness before it reached his lips. ------- Bianca was soaked! Pete had given her a thorough examination, even working his index finger slowly into her cunny -- and it had been SOOOO good, but she was holding his beautiful cock, and it was SOOOO big! "Pete, I'm scared... It's so big!" Pete shrugged. "Okay, then we won't..." "No, no! That's NOT what I meant! But am I wet enough?" "Well, you're pretty wet, but you're also pretty tight -- I'd like to have some lube available, but I don't have any..." "Don't you have anything oily around here?" Bianca whined. "Not that I'm aware of. I could go looking for something elsewhere, but..." Romance had been killed once today, already. Damn! She looked good enough to eat! Waitaminnit... "I think maybe we'll just supply a little more stimulation..." Pete lowered his face to Bianca's crotch. "Dios mio!" Pete's mouth -- his tongue -- washed over her labia, then delved into her channel. Bianca barely had time to react to that before Pete's tongue found her clitoris and things got REALLY intense! Her hips rolled and she moaned aloud, "Oh, my God!" Her hands settled onto his head, burying themselves in his dark curls as wave after wave of sensation rolled over her, "Oh! Oh! Oh!" His cock was there, in front of her face, and it was irresistible. She sucked in the tip and closed her eyes, transferring the sensations flooding her back to Pete -- not really working at it -- she didn't have the available attention for that -- just sucking the head and washing it with her tongue. This was a minor distraction to Pete, but it was pleasant; he let it ride and concentrated on the tongue-lashing he was giving Bianca's crotch. Saliva wasn't an incredible lubricant, but when he worked his finger back into the entrance of her channel, it was clear that Bianca was juicing. Bianca's hymen wasn't really intact -- he could work through it with his finger -- but there was plenty there to tear when something larger entered. Still, from her strained grunts, thrashing legs and surging abdomen, and the death grip she had on his head, Pete's tactic was working and it was getting to be time to take advantage of that success. Backing off for a second, he asked, "How about now? Are you ready?" "Ooogh! Yessss!" Bianca wailed. The finger in her vaginal mouth caused the occasional twinge, but it was also doing wonderful things -- and that tongue! My God! "Okay, I need a rubber. Get it from the nightstand..." Bianca didn't react immediately, so he cajoled, "C'mon, Sweetie, we have to be safe..." Bianca was barely there. She had an orgasm on the way, and trying to do something was going to put that off. Still, it was what she was here for... She struggled to get at the drawer and fish out the little foil packet, fought to tear it, then examined the ring-shaped rubber owlishly, trying to determine which side was the inside and which was out, while her clitoris itched and tingled and screamed its urgency and the promise of suffusing her with pleasure. "Give it to me, Sweetie," Pete murmured. He hated the things, but there was no way he could risk making Bianca pregnant. He had to withdraw the finger in her vaginal mouth, which caused a mewl of disappointment -- but he needed both hands to fit the rubber. Now to get her over the top... He repositioned and knelt between her legs, opening her up with his thumbs while he worked her labia and clitoris, avoiding her vaginal mouth as he figured that her natural lubrication was superior to spit. Bianca opened her legs as widely as she could, lifting her knees and rocking as the orgasm Pete had been creating rushed at her, "Oh! Oh! Oh..." Then it hit -- that wave of ecstasy! Pete's tongue created an orgasmic release in her unlike anything she had ever experienced; she surged and hunched herself against Pete's head, clutching him to her while she rode it out, "UuuuuuuuUUUUUUUGGGGHHH!!!" The thing seemed to go on for hours -- and DID for a good ninety seconds; Pete was in a fine position to know, since she wasn't giving him a whole lot of room to breathe. Finally, she collapsed and relaxed her grip on his head, "Oooooohhhh..." Pete raised himself. "I think it's time now, Sweetie..." It was best to get her now, while she was relaxed from the aftermath... "Yesssss..." leaked from Bianca's lips. Pete didn't know whether she was agreeing with him or still on another planet, but either way he figured that he had the go-ahead. He repositioned, wedging the head of his stiff cock in her entrance. Bianca looked on, watching the procedure through the valley of her desire-flushed breasts with a curious detachment brought on by the aftermath of her tremendous orgasm. There was a distant twinge of fear, but the lassitude in her muscles didn't allow her to make the instinctive move to close her knees. Neither did it grant her the capability of uttering an intelligible response when Pete asked, "Are you ready?" -- all she got out was "Uuhhmmm..." Her eyes were washed out, too; Pete took that calm expression and her mumble as confirmation, and initiated the procedure, snapping his hips to bury the first two inches of his cock in her. Pete had considered taking it slowly, but that seemed to merely prolong the inevitable and ultimately provide more pain... "Ow!" Despite the warning and the expectation, the stinging flash of pain and the certain realization that something had been damaged surprised Bianca. Pete stopped moving immediately, though, so things backed off pretty quickly -- except for an unprecedented feeling of fullness. That Pete wasn't fully inside her was obvious; could she take it all? "Let me know when we can continue," Pete gasped. "The worst should be over, but I want you to get used to things..." Bianca's vagina had his glans in what felt like a death grip -- like a cork in a bottle -- but it was also hot and wet enough to feel just about perfect. Bianca merely nodded, wide-eyed, thinking, 'My God, I'm a woman!' They hadn't gotten to the fun part yet, but that rip -- that was it! The protective seal was off; she was 'used'! Even at her age, she knew enough to realize that many women never got to the 'fun part' and that Pete was working hard to see to it that she wasn't one of them -- but the deed was done; if Pete went no further, she was still deflowered. Only then did she suffer a momentary pang of buyer's remorse; it dawned on her that now that her status had changed, childhood was gone, in some ways, and in the race to adulthood she might have undervalued what she had... And then Pete moved... Actually, he backed up a bit; it was just too good for him to be able to not move at all, so he backed up just a touch. And, yeah, there was still a raw place -- but it was sort of itchy, like a paper cut, and every OTHER nerve in contact with Pete's cock was reporting that something with a new, different, and thoroughly pleasant texture was stimulating it! "Oh!" "Are you okay?" Pete was instantly solicitous. Dammit! He should have waited! "Oh, yes! In!" Her hands went to his hips to coax him, but she retained SOME caution, "Easy..." "Let me know..." He started forward. Her hands encouraged him to recover the territory he'd vacated and a bit more before shifting to applying pressure to halt him. Pete got it, stopped, and slowly reversed. The back-stroke was good for both of them; Bianca's lining clutched the flared crown of his glans, and her ruptured hymen complained less about being pulled on than being pushed on. Still, Bianca was tugging as soon as the ridge passed her opening, so Pete headed back in. This time, he got about halfway before Bianca signaled a halt -- and it WAS a halt; she resisted him backing out, too! "Stay there a second," she panted. The shreds of her maidenhead were giving her grief on the in- stroke -- something that the rubber was undoubtedly not helping -- so she called a halt to give herself a chance to lubricate. The fact that this was her first time got her a bit more lubrication than she would normally gotten, too -- in the form of blood -- but she didn't know that. All she knew was that it got wetter, so she coaxed Pete back into motion. Pete started backing, but Bianca signaled that she wanted deeper penetration, so he eked out another three-quarters of an inch before her hands requested a reversal. This time, they savored his full retreat before her hands told him it was time to piston forward. This time it was easier on her -- smoother, and a little faster. Pete was instinctively kicking it up a notch as the urge to bury himself to the hilt in his hindbrain struggled with his conscious desire not to hurt his partner any more than necessary. He took another full inch of territory before she got her hands placed to stop him; it was a bit more than she would have let him have if her control had been better, but ultimately it didn't hurt anything. The withdrawal was faster, too -- and the new depth and time and other factors brought to her eyes a dark stain streaking the shaft of Pete's piston. That caused another signaled halt; Pete glanced down to track Bianca's widened eyes, "Oh. It's... not a lot..." Bianca nodded tentatively and released him. Since the in-stroke continued to be less pleasant, Pete opted for a quick one -- and hurtled right past his previous mark. Obviously, Bianca was adapting... Her eyes popped, but Pete backed out more slowly, and she began to smile. He stopped naturally at the normal point -- the crown of his glans gripped by her opening -- and powered forward again, this time going to the hilt and granting a little clitoral stimulation. Her eyes flickered in surprise again, but she was beyond attempting to control him and he was beyond requiring it; clit bashing was a good thing, and he hadn't QUITE bottomed out inside her -- and the irritation to her ruptured hymen was just that -- an irritation. One side-effect of Pete's sharp in-stroke was that the tissues were unable to resist, and thus were rapidly abrading away and becoming less and less of an obstacle. He continued to stretch the out-stroke until it was clear that she had accommodated him to the point that they both required more friction, at which point he went into more steady motion. Bianca experienced her first sex with a male as a series of amazing changes of state; she was full -- she was empty -- she was full -- she was empty -- full -- empty -- full... Fullness was satiety, the impact of Pete's pubic bone on her clitoris (the only stimulation she had known, previously) the cherry on top; emptiness left her unsatisfied, pining for fulfillment -- and the friction of the transitional phases brought pleasure... Very quickly she stopped watching Pete's cock pistoning into her -- now it was time to FEEL it, to concentrate on the pleasure. She rubbed his flanks, watching the expressions flicker across his face; some of them would have been hilarious, except for the obvious fact that Pete's entire being was focused on feeling his cock, tuning its action as an instrument of pleasure. At this moment, Pete WAS his cock -- everything else was merely the delivery system. Amazing to her was the fact that she could process any thoughts at all, floating on an ever more urgently rising plateau of pleasure -- but then, maybe it was instinct -- after all, her hips were rolling, tuning themselves to Pete's motions in order to get the maximum amount of pleasure, her feet on the bed so she could hunch and lift her pelvis to meet his more and more powerfully pounding strokes. She didn't think about it -- her body just did what her vagina said was the most pleasurable thing... Pete was beyond conscious thought, too; it had dropped away when Bianca started spurring him on with little touches, lifting her pelvis, and murmuring "Ummm... ummm... ummm... ummm... "; (Interestingly, she was basically unaware of two of those activities... ). Now, what capacity for attention that wasn't focused on his efforts at providing them both with pleasure was focused on her eyes -- eyes which seemed to get larger and more luminous by the minute. Was it any wonder that when they got huge in the realization that the most powerful orgasm she had ever experienced was rolling down upon her, then went flat and unseeing as the explosion swept her consciousness before it, that he experienced a sympathetic detonation, riding the first wave of his ejaculate in it's race to her womb? Pete was the first to recover. "I'm sorry, Sweetie..." "Huh?" Bianca looked confused. "Why?" "Well, I hoped to give you two..." "But it was wonderful! Perfect!" Bianca gushed. Pete shrugged. "I'm glad you feel that way. But there might have been more, if I hadn't gotten all caught up in your excitement..." Bianca smiled and hugged Pete to her. "That wasn't a BAD thing! That was a GOOD thing! It... adds to it -- I was good for YOU, too!" "Oh, yeah! Very!" Pete agreed. "See?" Bianca preened a bit. "I was ready, after all." "So you're all right?" "Uh huh. Great! I feel... complete!" Bianca smiled sunnily. "It didn't hurt too much?" "Oh, no! You did everything just right!" "I was worried that I got away from myself, there..." Pete admitted. "It was time... If it hadn't hurt at all, that might have been better -- but then it would have been no big deal, either! No, this was just about perfect..." She hugged him to her. "Let's go to sleep." "Ummm, not a good idea," Pete countered. "We need to get rid of the rubber. I'm gonna shrink, and then there could be a mess -- even, potentially, a failure... If your belly started to swell, your Mama would be VERY unhappy..." He grinned to lighten the mood. "Besides, I'm gonna have to pee..." Bianca grimaced. The idea of having Pete withdraw from her brought instinctive resistance -- she LIKED that full feeling! But he was probably shrinking already... "Oh, all right. I'm gonna ask Mama for birth control." "I'd insist on it, if I were her," Pete agreed, "but she's Catholic..." He started backing off, reaching down to ensure that the rubber was coming with him. "Then I'll go through Mister Jason!" Bianca insisted, mildly petulant. "That'll probably work," Pete agreed, his attention more on rubber extraction. He'd FLOODED the damned thing! There was semen halfway back up the shaft! "Wow! I really loaded this thing..." Bianca sat up to watch, and noticed the other issue -- bloodstains. "Oops! We should have used a towel! Your sheets..." Pete looked up from peeling off the rubber and smirked, "Does either of us need a souvenir?" "Pete!" "Just kidding. Don't people in your country have some kind of tradition of showing it off?" "Well, that's after a wedding, to prove that the bride was virginal to her marriage bed. I'm afraid that this would be a negative thing..." "Oh. Sorry!" "I wanted it this way." The aside put a damper on things for a moment; Pete got up and disposed of the rubber, washed himself off, got in his post-coital leak, and returned to Bianca bearing a wet washrag and a towel. "Let's see to you..." There ensued a period of cleanup and examination; the damage didn't seem to be any too extensive, and most of the blood was either on the sheets or had been carried off on the rubber. "Okay, now what?" "I still want to sleep with you." Bianca replied. "I'd have kept you inside me, if I could..." "That's a great way to become a mother..." Pete chided. "That's so bad?" "Wait a couple of years," Pete advised. "Why don't you climb on top?" "I'd like that!" Bianca did so, arranging the blankets over them. Pete got the light. "G'night, Sweetie." That was the last thing said, but a lot of necking and skin on skin contact followed before the pair drifted off... ------- Paul Matheson lay awake in bed, pondering the changes that had occurred in the past couple of days. Tabitha had drained his balls -- again -- and had been manic about it, riding him cowgirl style, hard and fast; Paul smiled at the memory of her titties going every which way while she bounced up and down, giving him the play by play: "Oh, shit this is good! Damn, Lover, I just LOVE this pecker of yours -- it seems ta have just the curve in it ta rub on my G-spot! Shit, I'm gonna have two black eyes from these things floppin' around..." Paul didn't have a history of serious success in this position, for a couple of reasons -- the vast majority of his partners of late weren't built for it, and it surrendered a little too much in the way of control -- once they got going in that position, women generally started sliding back and forth on a cock, rather that running it in and out, which could be painful for the male. But Tabitha managed to get hers without succumbing to temptation and while allowing him to hunch into her from below; add the grip of that amazing pussy and you got an incredibly satisfactory ride... Tabitha made it fun, too -- the crazy crap that came out of her mouth indicated that she was there for fun, not because she expected him to be romantically interested in her -- and the 'fuck buddy' approach had him actually feeling around inside the door of the trap, rather than defending himself. Now, while she lay atop him, boneless, snoring softly, Paul was going back and forth with himself over how insane it was versus how good it was. Rational thought told him that there was no reasonable expectation of a future to the relationship; there were a ton of obstacles, including color, her profession, his profession, her addictive personality, the fact that both of them were more or less set in their ways... On the other hand, Tabitha seemed fine with most of that shit and kept insisting on crawling into bed with him. What to do about it wasn't clear; if he continued to accept those advances until she changed her mind, was he taking advantage of her? If he was, (and his gut told him so), could he bring himself to make commitments, given his track record? Tabitha gave a snort and a start, then settled back down -- but one eye opened. "Yer awake..." "Yeah." "Bones pokin' ya? I'll get off..." "No. Well, maybe a little, but that isn't it. What are we doing, here?" "Well, we WAS sleepin' -- least one of us was." Tabitha rolled off Paul and onto her side, then propped herself on her elbow, "What'cha so fuckin' worried about?" "Bad habit. Any time things start looking too good..." Paul muttered. "When are you gonna start wanting things from me?" "Y'all mean besides twenty-four hour protection from pissed pimps, a roof over my head, and a lotta good dick?" "Um, yeah, besides that." Paul chuckled. "I'm getting paid for the first two," he pointed out. "Yeh," Tabitha agreed. "An' if I understand the bidness agreement, I'm gonna hafta pay ya." She eyed him. "But that ain't the important part, is it?" "Well, things are getting gray in spots..." Paul allowed. "Awright." Tabitha sighed. "I don' suppose y'all believe I let you stick your dick in me purely fo' the fun of it, do ya?" "Well, you've been pretty convincing," Paul admitted, "but I'm not CERTAIN..." "An' you probly never will be, willya, Honey?" Tabitha eyed him. "Well, I'm a suspicious character," Paul admitted. "Goes with the territory. It IS the working assumption -- but the reasons..." "Hmph," Tabitha grunted. "They ain't clear, huh? Hell, they ain't real clear to ME! Le's get a look..." She started ticking off things on her fingers, "I fucked a few, an' I gotta feel for somebody who's up-front an' no bullshit." Tick. "Bruthuhs tend ta be silver-tongued bullshit artists or they jus' try ta keep ya in line by kickin' yo' ass -- so I done developed a thing fo' white boys." Tick. "Y'all don' talk shit, but y'all make it happen -- an' it's there, like, in jus' 'bout everthing ya do! Y'all don' make no promises ya cain't keep, and when ya do make one, ya deliver. Dat puts ya above jus' 'bout everone I know..." Tick. "Last, but not least, jus' lookin' at ya makes my pussy itch. Cain't explain it -- it's jus' there..." She managed to shrug, despite her position. "I ain't got a goddamn thing ta offer ya 'cept twat -- an' y'all been clear 'bout the fact ya won't take it in trade -- which is pure you, an' somethin' I'm pleased about, but it leaves me fuck-all fo' a grip on ya..." Paul shrugged. "You're better off. If you HAD something, I'd be busy breaking clear..." "Yeh." Tabitha's eyes were hooded. "Le's hear your piece." "Big thing is that I compromised my professional ethics," Paul grunted. "That's bad, in my business. PIs don't get credit for much as it is, and when you DO have a rep for doing shit right, you want to keep it..." "I still ain't clear on what's so bad..." Tabitha mumbled. "Well, it's like this -- if I'm in too close, either I can get emotionally involved, which clouds my judgment and makes me less effective trying to protect you -- or I'm just flat-assed taking advantage of you. Neither one of those options is a good thing, for you." "Well, I got no complaints 'bout how I'm bein' protected -- seems like it's bein' handled pretty well. As to the other thing, if I stick it out there an' I beg ya to do it up, you ain't 'zactly stealin'..." Tabitha opined. "What else?" "Well, no offense, but black women weren't even on my radar last week, and even if they had been, I dunno if I'd have picked YOU out of a lineup, but..." Tabitha grinned. "But? Or is that butt?" She swatted herself on the ass. Paul chuckled. "Both, I guess. You're, well, a different animal, I guess. The way you come at things tickles me, or at least is generally something I can agree with. And, hey, no matter what my opinion of your female parts as far as appearance and wear and tear, they sure work!" He shook his head. "That kind of thing is hard to pass up -- REAL hard, when it's THAT good!" "If ya hadn't made me sound like a garbage scow on the front end, I'd be blushin' an' shit!" Tabitha grinned. Paul shrugged, embarrassed. "I'm just trying to get the truth out there..." "Dat's fine..." Tabitha nodded. "I figure we're both kind of stuck in our ways. I'm pretty much a straight-arrow..." "... And ain't much straight on me at all!" Tabitha laughed. "Workaholic..." "Lazy cunt..." Tabitha chuckled. "Y'all forgot neat -- so I could admit to bein' a slob! Honey, if opposites attract, it's a wonder we can move -- we oughta be glued together!" She shook her head. "Is it that bad?" Paul ran his hand through his brush-cut. "That's the fucked-up thing -- I can't get excited about most of the bad stuff! On the other hand, there ARE a couple of killers out there..." "Awright, le's see if we can work through this shit!" Tabitha waved for him to continue. "Go on, le's hear the deal-breakers..." "Dope." Paul got it out of the way first. "Dat weed, or jus' shit ya shoot or snort?" Paul thought about it. "I haven't smoked in quite a while, but I might look the other way over an occasional doobie. That's OCCASIONAL..." Tabitha nodded, ruminating. "Been doin' pretty good, without... No guarantees -- ya might hafta hang me out a coupla times before I get totally over it, but it's a plan..." "Really?" Tabitha shrugged. "Shit seems ta look better seen clear; didn't useta be like that, but it's sorta lookin' that way now..." "I can't figure out how to handle your profession..." "Got sumpthin' against hookin', or datin' a hooker, or what?" Paul frowned. "Nothing philosophical against hookers, that's for sure. I've been using their services for too long. As for dating a hooker, the jury is out..." "Honey, I gotta earn a livin', an' I owe a few people a piece. I ain't gonna stop. On the other hand, you be the first man I been bareback with in five, six years -- maybe longer! If ya hang around, that's the way it'll be..." Paul nodded slowly. "I wondered about that." "Wasn't no accident." She waited a moment, but he'd clammed up. "What else?" "Well," Paul fidgeted. "It's this protection racket. The agency's been in kind of a gray area before -- the kind of surveillance we do is 'WAY too intrusive to be legal -- but a long-term deal supporting hookers? It seems like -- I dunno -- the line's been crossed..." Tabitha scratched her head. "You got trouble bein' a bodyguard, or you got trouble bein' a bodyguard while bein' a private dick?" Paul rubbed his jaw. "The latter, I think. I feel like a PI ought to have a nodding acquaintance with the law. If I were to hire out as a bodyguard, or do private security, then it's more, I dunno, 'us against them', I guess -- and if 'them' is the cops, so be it. But as a PI, I can't think that way -- the cops are a resource. Witherspoon's agency is very professional -- a great team -- but they're almost totally caught up in Mr. Wilson's affairs -- and now that his daughter and his wife have moved in, I figure that there will be layoffs..." Tabitha made a face. "Ummm, actually, you be kinda hittin' 'round sumpthin' I gotta deal with. I'm gonna need a security dude -- somebody that can keep us girls from steppin' in shit an' to deal wit' that Witherspoon fucker. He'd be puttin' shit over on me alla time -- I got no idea how that shit works. I need a dude dat knows that shit inside an' out -- an' can keep us up an' runnin' even if Witherspoon heads off somewheres." She eyed him sidelong. "You know anybody like that? Company man? Salary might be shit ta start, but the bennies? Woo Hoo!" Paul grinned from ear to ear. "I'll sleep on it -- maybe a name will pop up..." ------- Ed stuck his head out his door, looked right -- clear. Then he looked left, and surprised Velma in her nightie, about halfway between his room and hers. 'Great minds think alike, ' went through his head, and he rasped, "You lookin' for what I THINK you're lookin' for?" Velma looked bashful. "Well, yah." "Turn your big ass around, and head back to your room, then," Ed instructed. "Awww, Ed!" Velma whined. "Just shut up," Ed interrupted, "I'm right the fuck behind ya!" "OH! Well, in DAT case..." Velma began retracing her steps. Hot damn! Moah dick! Ed shook his head in self-disgust. What wasn't apparent was which of them was worse -- her for suddenly developing an itchy pussy, or him for being unable to resist it! Ridin' Velma was like ridin' a moped to a biker's meet -- you were gonna get laughed at when the others saw ya! But, hey, what the fuck? Good pussy available forty feet from his door an' he was gonna pass it up? Not fuckin' likely! Shaking his head, he closed Velma's door behind him. ------- Caitlin McGrath came up for air. She and Howard had gone from 'dancing' to necking standing up, to necking on the couch. Now they were going back and forth; first Howard would lean in and maul her, kissing fiercely so she couldn't anticipate where those four hands of his were going, then he would back off and she would chase his lips until she was draped on him, playing basically the same game. It was great --Howard was all over her tits, and her unbuttoned blouse might as well not be there -- but it wasn't getting them to dicks and pussies! Caitlin's twat was a swamp, and she wanted to see Howard's tool in the worst way... "Let's go in the bedroom where we can stretch out!" The look on Howard's face said she'd surprised him by stretching the envelope -- again -- but his "Okay," was game. He got up and waved her toward what turned out to be a reasonably neat bedroom; the bed wasn't 'made', but the spread was flipped up fairly neatly. Laundry was confined to the laundry basket, and there weren't any SERIOUS stacks of this and that lying around. Caitlin plopped her purse, which she had collected in passing in the living room, on the nightstand, prompting a questioning look. "Supplies," she murmured, stripping out of the totally defeated blouse. Howard shrugged. "You don't mind, do you?" she asked. "The blouse is just in the way. So is the skirt, for that matter. Wouldn't you be more comfortable if you got out of those trousers?" 'I want to see your dick, dammit!' "Okay, I guess. Want me to turn the heat up?" Howard asked. "I'm plenty warm, Dear -- you've been doing a FINE job of keeping MY blood pressure up!" Caitlin undid and stepped out of her skirt, draping it on a nearby chair while Howard absorbed the compliment. That didn't keep him from turning his back when he shucked out of his trousers, though. Caitlin, who had crawled up onto the bed, watched, amused, as he first methodically emptied his pockets, then sat and took off his socks, before standing, removing his trousers, and hanging them neatly in the closet. "I keep looking for your mother." "She's a slob," Howard replied, "a constant embarrassment. I learned that organization is more efficient, early." "I hope I'll measure up!" Caitlin backpedaled. "If things keep going as they are, I suspect that I'll discover that you bring things to the table that Mother doesn't," Howard grinned. 'Always the high-end approach, ' Caitlin mused distantly while she took in the banana-sized bulge in his briefs. Either he spent a lot of time storing fruit in his underwear, or there was a serious stiffy there... 'Doesn't he ever just talk like regular people?' Caitlin's regard embarrassed the Hell out of Howard, so he minimized things by moving rapidly onto the bed. Caitlin pulled him in tightly as he leaned in to kiss her, and only released him fractionally when he finished, locking eyes with him and querying, "Howard? Promise me you'll get into my pants? You've been teasing me for HOURS and I really, REALLY want you to..." Howard jerked in surprise. She'd done it again -- pushed things beyond the step he was preparing for and on to something several further on... Working to compensate, he remonstrated, "I'm surprised you left them on..." Still holding his eyes, Caitlin started struggling with the bit of nylon. "I'm just trying to keep from pushing you too hard..." The panties got beyond comfortable range for her hands; she was working them off her legs by rubbing and kicking -- but Howard didn't look. "You're not succeeding." Caitlin froze. "Oops! Sorry!" Now, her panties were at her knees and basically unrecoverable with anything resembling grace... "Why are you in such a hurry?" Howard demanded. "This whole deal has been this sudden rush job... Did I win the lottery or something, and I just don't know it yet?" "No." Caitlin's shoulders slumped and she looked away. "Look, I'm a simple girl where sex is concerned. I can't pick a man for a relationship with a computer and a stack of personnel files -- I learned that a LONG time ago -- so I generally go for the quick hit. I get horny, pick up a man, and have sex. Generally, that's it. Generally, it's better that way, because the man I picked up is no catch." She turned back to him, continuing, "You're different. You're not a stranger, and you're a LOT better than the class of guy I've been collecting lately. But I have bad habits -- when I want it, I want it. You've given me about six times the amount of foreplay that I'm used to, and..." She looked away again. "This is complicated. I let my hair down; now you know I'm a slut. We have to work together, and you're a nice guy -- heck, if I believed in the relationship thing I'd be floating! More likely, though, I'm going to have to go looking for a new job..." "What?" Howard blinked. "Why?" "Well, you can ruin me," Caitlin pointed out. "I doubt that -- your girlfriends know you sleep around. I knew you slept around before tonight. So what?" "What if, say, things go well for you, but not for me?" Caitlin countered. "That could bring about a LOT of hard feelings..." "What about the opposite?" Howard countered. "Unless you wanted to spend a lot of time smearing me, I don't see it as an issue..." He shook his head. "If you consider the whole thing to be so dangerous, why are we here? Why did you suddenly decide that it was time to push me into doing something more than just looking?" "I TOLD you!" Caitlin wailed. "My daughter has this... theory... and I thought..." "What were you looking for?" Howard pressed. "A one-nighter? I don't think so. Every indication says you were looking for more..." Caitlin suddenly realized that she'd been drifting all over the map. "What I WANT is for you to be 'the one'! But what I expect..." She shook her head. "From where I sit, you're dead on track to fuck this up -- mostly through low expectations. Has anything gone seriously wrong yet?" Howard demanded. "No..." "Ever since you blind-sided me earlier today, you've been running things. Since you seem to have lost track of where you're going, why don't you let ME run things for a while?" "O-okay..." THIS was a new and different Howard! 'What's next? The discovery that he's an axe-murderer?' Caitlin thought. Howard took charge. "These aren't doing anything but getting in the way, now," he pointed out, snagging her panties with a finger. "Might as well shuck 'em." He shifted toward Caitlin's feet and slipped them off. Kneeling at the foot of the bed, he cocked his head and shrugged. "What's good for the goose is good for the gander, I guess..." The T-shirt went flying, then Howard backed off the bed and dropped his briefs. Silence reigned. Howard was staring at Caitlin's dirty blonde bush, wondering if it was time to start exploring it -- and Caitlin was happily eyeing a VERY nice cut cock! Oh, boy! Caitlin had experience with the average -- and more experience with the less than average -- even a little experience with the more than average! She'd tried blacks, Chicanos, Orientals... All varied widely, but you could generalize. Blacks tended to have size on their side, but to be kind of flexible -- and real problem children OUTSIDE a bed. Hispanics tended to thick, stubby cocks -- or small ones -- and had ego issues. Orientals tended to be built like kids -- all over -- but very stiff and hard. That left white guys -- who varied, but tended to be so-so -- bigger than Orientals, longer than Hispanics, but less than competitive in size with larger blacks -- although they tended to be solid when erect. Howard was bigger than the average white guy. In Caitlin's experience, white guys floated in just under six inches, on average, despite reports that they should be a bit more -- but Howard looked to be at least an inch and a half beyond the average -- into black territory, actually... Caitlin triggered the next act by the simple expedient of raising and spreading her knees; it wasn't deliberate -- more or less an automatic reaction to the sight of that beautiful dick. Given proof of Caitlin's receptiveness, Howard crawled onto the bed between her legs and slid his hand up her right thigh to engage her twat -- something that might have taken some time, had he been left to his own devices. Caitlin drew in a gasp as his fingers traced her droopy inner lips; Howard glanced up, but she was good -- in fact, she was still busy eyeing his cock! "Problems?" "Uh uh!" Caitlin denied with some fervor. Howard started seriously exploring Caitlin's womanhood, asking questions as he examined her both visually and with his hands, "So, do you go out looking for sex often?" 'Where is THIS headed?' "Every couple of weeks, I guess." Caitlin craned her neck to get another look at Howard's dick. Was it really that big? "So, you've seen a lot of guys' equipment?" Howard's thumb settled over Caitlin's clit while his middle finger probed her hole. "Well, yeah..." The fingers felt great, but the conversation was making her uncomfortable. "Look, if it's a problem..." "Noooo... I just kind of wondered if you figure you have a good statistical sample..." "Well, yeah, I'm embarrassed to say..." "So, I'm deformed, or something?" "What? Why?" Caitlin shook her head. Dammit, did they HAVE to play twenty questions while he was rubbing her off? "Well, you keep eyeing it..." "You don't make it easy!" "Oh." 'Might as well get it over with... ' Howard circled around to his left, putting himself beside her while trying not to disengage his hand -- which didn't work, because her raised knee was in the way. Reaching through between her legs brought him almost over her, his cock bobbing over her right breast. "Better?" "Uh huh." Caitlin's look of fascination was impossible to ignore. "Okay, what's so weird about it?" "Weird? Nothing!" "Then why are you staring? Is it too small or something?" "What? Oh, no!" Caitlin deliberately engaged Howard's eyes. "I just can't get over it -- it's the most beautiful dick I've ever seen!" "What?!" "It's beautiful!" It WAS! Up close, it only got better! Howard's dick had a beautiful purple head over a long, smooth slightly curved shaft that had to approach eight inches, gently bobbing to his heartbeat -- which told Caitlin that it was rock-hard, too! Caitlin had seen bigger scrotums on guys -- Howard's balls were loose and baggy, but dangled well -- but usually on guys who were shortchanged in the dick department. "It's... got to be kind of average..." Howard mumbled, surprised and embarrassed. "Oh, no," Caitlin basic simplicity and honesty led her onto what could be shaky ground. "This is world-class for a white guy! Can I touch it?" Howard blinked. 'For a white guy?' "You've been with black guys?" Caitlin turned a 'deer in the headlights' look on Howard. "Y-yes." Howard pursed his lips. "Are the legends true?" "Well, yes and no. They DO run a little bigger, on average -- and some a LOT bigger -- but they tend to be kind of... lank." "Lank?" "Droopy? Flexible? Bendy?" "Bendy?" Howard smiled in spite of himself. "Go ahead." Caitlin visibly switched tracks and shifted her attention back to Howard's cock, gently reaching for it. General familiarity was obvious; Caitlin started jacking him almost immediately, wiping her thumb over the tip when her hand reached it. "Am I bendy?" "No. This is... quite nice." Caitlin continued rubbing Howard's dick. "Ummm, would you like me to... lick it?" This sat somewhere directly in the middle of one of Howard's favorite fantasies. "Okay..." He shifted a bit more to his left and watched in thrilled amazement as Caitlin leaned up and wrapped her lips around his erection. "Oh, man!" Caitlin backed off. "You don't get blowjobs?" "Well, they're cheaper, but if I'm going to have sex... And the few women who offer sex for free aren't usually interested..." Howard hissed as Caitlin re-enveloped his cock with her lips. "You don't mind?" Caitlin disengaged again with a loud pop. "A beautiful thing like this? Besides, what you're doing for me..." Howard remembered his hand and put it back to work, "Am I doing all right?" "Mmm hmmm..." Howard had actually managed to combine a couple of very pleasant activities, and Caitlin was warming up rapidly. Backing off again, she asked, "You do that a lot?" "Shit, no! I'm just guessing!" "Wow, no shit? You're a natural! It's GREAT!" Caitlin enthused, smiling as she recaptured his dick. "Well, you're no slouch!" Howard was beside himself! Caitlin's mouth was doing such incredible things -- how on Earth was he going to hold out? "Look, I don't get this a lot, you know? What if I..." The withdrawal pop sounded. "Cum? Well, I dunno. Can you cum twice?" "Uhhhh..." Howard stopped dead. "Well, once is usually all I can pay for..." Caitlin shook her head. "What about when you jerk off?" "Oh! Yeah... actually, I tend to do that first, since hookers are all about making it last six seconds..." "Okay, just enjoy yourself. I will." Caitlin went seriously to work on that beautiful hunk of meat. It was soft and clean and sweet, with a nice, spongy tip -- and it was drizzling just a little bit of pre-cum... Caitlin started vacuuming it, sending chills through Howard as she worked the underside with her tongue and ran her lips over his shaft and the sensitive head. Whether she intended to swallow or not was an open question -- and one that Howard was afraid to ask. The whole thing was just incredible; Caitlin OBVIOUSLY knew JUST what she was doing, leaving Howard in agony and ecstasy. Catching his eye, she directed a significant look at her crotch. "Oops! Sorry!" Howard restarted his hand, which he'd forgotten to keep moving when Caitlin got going. Howard was amazed; the reality had improved upon his fantasies by a considerable margin. Caitlin was just... hot! Caitlin would have been hard pressed to disagree. Howard was managing to set fire to her twat, one-handed, while providing additional impetus to her arousal through his obvious enjoyment of her oral attentions. This really couldn't have been better; Caitlin had, over time, learned to put up with quite a bit from her lovers, and even to enjoy some things that other women might consider objectionable. As a result, Caitlin inhaled the musk of Howard's arousal, enjoying both it and the fact that the smell of a clean body bearing a whiff of cologne underlay it. The musk aroused her -- and the fact that it wasn't fighting with less-than-perfect personal hygiene only improved things. Howard's pre-cum was coating her taste buds, which dulled the flavor somewhat -- but Caitlin had a cure for that! Engaging Howard's glazed eyes, she deliberately impaled herself on his erection, forcing it deep and confirming that, yes, it was long enough to require deep-throating... The process wasn't smooth, something Howard could tell both by feel and by the effort reflected on Caitlin's face. But he popped through and she held him deep for a moment, obviously gagging -- and Howard was just overwhelmed! This went some distance beyond his fantasies... 'That did it, ' Caitlin thought, backing off. Gagging had turned on the spit machine, which helped wash the pre-cum off her tongue while providing additional lubrication. From the look on his face, it hadn't hurt Howard any, either... Deliberately, she lodged him in her throat again, this time only momentarily, before taking a few more short strokes over his glans. Then she went for thirds... Howard's eyes bulged. Caitlin had upped the ante significantly in the previous thirty seconds, and the combination of WATCHING her do something that for him only existed in legend and FEELING it shot him right over the edge! "GAAAAHHHH!!!!" Caitlin got the point milliseconds before control was lost and pulled back, washing the underside of his dick with her tongue as it went diamond hard and started to buck. When the load came, it wasn't huge, but it was potently flavorful -- and Caitlin LIKED the taste of jizz! It was no accident that she was giving Howard head -- she gave most of her men head, because she liked collecting the product! Cum differed from man to man, and even from day to day, but it was all good to Caitlin; in college, she'd been a serious cum-dumpster. Howard's juice was thick, meaty -- almost chunky -- obviously, HE wasn't getting laid NEARLY often enough! Howard came to his senses and tried to back off, but Caitlin got a hand on his hip and followed him, milking him dry -- and incidentally nearly driving him insane by not allowing him to escape while in post-orgasmic over-stimulation. "Oh, shit! I'm sorry! Ooohhhh! Easy! Easy! Aaahhh!!!" By the time she let go, it was clear that the apology was unnecessary; in fact, Caitlin looked pretty pleased with herself. "That was..." Words failed him. Howard could count the blowjobs he had received in his life on one hand; hookers made short work of him that way, so as he had already indicated to Caitlin, his habit was to masturbate, then go out looking for sex from a hooker -- and he would get vaginal sex, rather than a blowjob. The quality of this effort, however, had been over the top -- there just wasn't any comparison. Caitlin hadn't tried to hurry him, either -- it had just happened. Caitlin licked her lips, grinning. "Good stuff!" Then she looked anxious. "Hey, uh, are you gonna..." Her eyes again swept to her crotch, where his hand had once again stopped working while he was distracted. "Oh, absolutely!" Howard put the hand back to work. "Hey, how about if I... ?" Howard stuck his tongue out. Caitlin's eyes shone. "That'd be GRAND!" "Okay. You'll have to talk me through it -- I'm not exactly an expert." The few girls he'd managed to bed had mostly come from the "EWWWW!" school -- and hookers weren't appetizing... The first issue was position -- did he climb atop her, or circle around from below? Caitlin came to his rescue. "Why don't you climb on top and we can sixty-nine? Then I can give this guy a little more TLC..." She jacked Howard's still semi-hard member. "Okay." Howard stifled concerns over his weight being atop Caitlin's narrow frame, promising himself that he would carry the load on his knees, and began to reposition. He had to extract his right hand; having it between her legs meant it was in the way. Since she WAS narrow, straddling her turned out to be less of an issue, anyway... All of this was a side issue to Howard's primary focus: Caitlin's dirty-blonde pubic bush and the loose-lipped slit below. Braced with his forearms run through under Caitlin's upraised knees, Howard had no problem nosing into Caitlin's gash -- which was fairly good sized, considering the woman it was mounted on. The aroma of her arousal wafted up -- rich, but not pungent -- inviting his tongue to join his nose. The loose, wrinkled inner lips were much more prominent than the outer ones -- a less than compact design -- but it made finding her clitoris no problem at all. Howard went to work on it, discovering in the process that when fully erect it was about the size of a nine millimeter bullet -- which is sizeable, and enough to actually be able to suck on -- and that when he lapped it, his nose tended to poke at her vaginal opening -- something ELSE she seemed to be pretty pleased about, if you went by the moans and groans she was emitting! "Uuuuhhh!! God!" Howard's fingers had been pretty smart, but his lips and tongue were SOMETHING! Getting her pussy licked wasn't something Caitlin got a lot of; usually, her one-nighters got their rocks off once in her mouth and/or once in her pussy -- and that was it. Twat-tonguing was seldom on their short list. Howard hadn't hesitated (detectably), and he'd gone to work with some relish -- which actually surprised them both! -- causing Caitlin's hips to jump and roll as she danced between the urge to get it all and over-stimulation. Howard's position above her made additional work on his dick difficult -- even when she pulled him down a bit, the more erect he got the harder it was to get at his tip with her mouth -- but the things he was doing to her twat made that kind of concentration absolutely impossible! Caitlin settled for sucking and tonguing the underside at the root and sucking and lapping at Howard's dangling balls -- both of which were novel sensations for Howard -- but it was an effort in the face of serious distraction; Caitlin was well on the way to a BIG cum, just from a tongue job! "O God, Lover! You're killing me! I'm gonna explode!" Howard wasn't about to stop! He was having a ball! Caitlin's fluids were tasty, and the way she reacted to his efforts was a powerful inducement to continue controlling her through pleasure. He was as hard as nails despite his recent orgasm and Caitlin's less than dedicated efforts, just from the excitement of feeling and controlling her climb to orgasm -- could he do it? Oh, yeah! Howard sucked her clit between his lips and began drubbing it with his tongue, and Caitlin went nuts! "OOOOOOOWWWWEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!" she wailed, arching her back and picking Howard right up as the shockwaves he ignited rolled through her. Howard hung on, maintaining his lip-lock while she undulated like a bucking bronco, wailing, "OGOD! OGOD! OGOD! OOOOHHHH!!!!" This went on for about fifteen seconds before Caitlin started frantically scrabbling to get Howard away from her burning clitoris, something Howard did only after a fight. "Oh... MY... GOD!!!" she panted, "That was..." Words failed her. Howard offered a return grin, but it was strained. "I, uh, think it worked for me, too..." Caitlin re-focused on the penis dangling above her head. "Oh, yeah! Well, turn it around, Dear, and let's go for it!" ------- Chapter 53A: Ted and Claudette Begin Defining their Relationship Claudette sat primly in Ted's front seat, second-guessing her plan to replace Rob with Ted. Certainly, Ted had mellowed as the evening went on, going from sardonic at his arrival at her table to genial by stages -- but Claudette was uneasy. Things had gone well until closing time, and allowing Ted to take her home was the proper thing to do to set him up as heir to Rob's position, but... Claudette glanced over at Ted -- a fearful flick. Nothing obvious had occurred, and Ted was still genial, but there was a darkness to him... Claudette's radar was a little late picking up anything, but she was right on target. Ted WAS still genial, but the reason for it was anticipation -- anticipation of putting HIS spin on their budding relationship... "It's just up here on the right," Claudette offered hopefully. "Right there?" Ted pointed. "Yes." "Good." Ted kept right on going. "Ted! Why didn't you stop?" Claudette demanded. Ted smiled at the windshield. "Because I think we need to talk some more about our 'partnership' before we get too involved in it. I have a number of concerns that we should address before we really hit the street. Besides, you're not expected right away at home, are you?" He eyed her for that final query. "Well, no..." What was there about his eyes that dragged the truth out of her? If she'd been able to lie... Actually, it probably wouldn't have helped -- but Claudette lost a battle of wills, right there. Ted didn't go much farther; Claudette lived in an affluent area on the edge of town, and just a bit beyond was an access to a dirt road leading to the local quarry. Ted didn't stay on that road, however; he opted for an even less well-defined path that wound through some old-growth forest to a small clearing. Stopping there, he shut off the engine. Claudette knew fear from the moment he entered the quarry road. She had only a vague idea where they were, and really couldn't come up with any GOOD reason for them to require so much privacy... "Why are we here?" "Peace and quiet," Ted replied genially. "Nice, don't you think?" "I guess." Claudette cautiously glanced around. "Why so remote? We could have talked at my house..." "Too public," Ted grunted, shaking his head. "Parents, servants -- I'm not like you; I don't have people waiting on me hand and foot all of the time. While you might be able to ignore them, they would keep me from being able to hold up my end of the conversation. This is better." "I see." Claudette entertained Ted's line of reasoning, which appeared on the face of it to be fairly reasonable. Relaxing a bit, she murmured, "This is better, then?" "Much," Ted agreed. "It will allow me to assert myself properly." Ted was grinning inside; he seldom got such an opportunity to play tricks with his vocabulary. Moving on, he started circling for the kill, "All right, I guess I might as well get started. You confused me earlier when you said that your private relationship with Rob was supposed to be genuine; one of Rob's big complaints was that you were, uh, unapproachable in private. How do YOU see this?" Claudette frowned. "What do you mean by 'unapproachable'?" Ted shrugged. "Rob insisted that he got less -- affection, let's call it -- from you in private than he did in public. I really can't operate like that -- it's a sham..." Ted added loftily. "Well, he was busy chasing those loose girls..." Claudette temporized. "The way I hear it, he started chasing them because you weren't offering enough..." Ted chided. "It's not true!" Claudette asserted, flustered. "I... He... I TOLD you, I'm saving myself for marriage!" "Were you planning on marrying Rob?" Ted pressed. "Well, yes. Eventually..." "... And when was that?" Claudette shrugged. "After college, sometime..." "So, Rob was supposed to do without for four or five more years?" Ted glared at Claudette. "Do you have similar plans for me?" "Well, no..." Claudette turned away. Ted was a short-term solution; he just wasn't suitable, in the long run. Claudette only REALLY needed Ted until the fall -- but of course, admitting THAT would cause things to crash and burn... Claudette fooled Ted not at all, so his disgruntled, "I should hope not!" was a prime piece of acting. But again, he'd won the point. After a moment's counterfeit petulance, he pursued things, "So, how often did you two kiss in private? Did you do any French kissing? In public, you guys seemed to be limited to close-mouthed pecks..." Under pressure, Claudette began to see that she hadn't managed Rob well. "Well, no..." "No, you didn't kiss, or no, you didn't French?" "Um, we kissed, occasionally -- you know, at the end of an evening. No, we didn't French." Ted shook his head, "I really fail to see what you're offering me, here." "Well, there will be a certain enhancement of your reputation from the two of us being together..." Claudette replied carefully. Ted grunted. "Anyone who knows you and knows how it was with you and Rob will merely assume I'm having my balls cut off..." "Ted!" "Well?" Claudette was becoming vexed. Certainly, Ted had a point; it was becoming clear that she had bungled things with Rob badly -- but then Rob was such a charmer; if she had given an inch, he'd have taken her virginity and made her into one of his sluts, for sure! Meanwhile, what was she to do in the present situation? Well, at least Ted wasn't as overtly charming... "What do you want?" Ted shrugged. "If you're going to inject anything resembling realism into our relationship, you're going to have to be a bit more cuddly in public. And in order to properly project the idea that we're being restrained in public, we need to be going a bit further in private..." Claudette shook her head, perplexed. 'Cuddly', 'restrained' -- The terms seemed innocuous enough -- why did they bring on such foreboding? "We don't have to rush right out, do we?" Ted shrugged, feigning indifference. "It's your rep you're trying to rescue..." Damn! She was over a barrel again! Either she put up with some kind of intimacy, or she was a cheat and a liar -- and everyone would know it! "All right. I suppose we could -- I don't know -- kiss, or something..." "Good." Ted popped open the car door; time to take things a bit further... "Where are you going?" Claudette asked, puzzled. "It's a nice night. I'm sure you'd like to avoid any clichés. I have some stuff in the back..." Ted circled around and opened the trunk, collecting a tarp, a heavy blanket, a folding chair, and a short hunk of rope. Claudette watched, puzzled, as he spread the tarp, spread the blanket above, and sat up the chair. The rope he tossed negligently under the chair. Then he came around and opened the passenger door. "Come on out -- get some air..." he said, taking her hand and pulling her from the car. Claudette didn't resist; curiosity had a grip on her. "What's up with the chair?" "Well, you COULD sit on my lap," Ted replied, seating himself and pulling her there. "I don't think so," Claudette jumped up and backed away; the position was just a little too intimate, and access under the skirt she was wearing a little too easy... "I didn't think so, either," Ted chuckled, "but it was worth a try. There's always later..." He waved at the blanket. "In the meantime, let's sit out here, then." He lifted himself from the chair far enough to drop onto the blanket. "Come on; you need to show me that you're serious about all this." He patted the blanket beside him. Claudette settled in gingerly, and Ted wrapped an arm around her -- something which generated an instant flinch when his hand touched her torso. Ted moved his hand to her arm, but manufactured an aggrieved tone, "This is nuts! How are you going to carry off the idea that you've found something better if you're going to act like a block of ice when I wrap an arm around you? Are you that hung up?" "N-no..." Actually, she was; her mother, Charlotte, had been vicious about instilling rules of behavior from a bygone age since her early childhood. At about age twelve, her independence brought them into conflict, and open war ensued between mother and daughter until one memorable confrontation when Charlotte announced, "One day, a man is going to worm his way into your knickers -- and he'll discover just what a total SLUT you are! When that happens, you'll not be rid of him until he's taken everything you have to offer! If you follow the rules I've tried to instill in you, you'll be able to PICK the man who does it, and you can live like this..." She waved her arms at the Pinkersley's palatial living room. "Or, you can let HIM find YOU -- and you'll end up barefoot and pregnant in a trailer park with three other snot-nosed brats and no husband, looking the prospect of spreading your legs for a living in the face!" "Mother!" Claudette had screeched, "How would YOU know whether I'm a slut or not? I certainly don't! And you won't even let me touch myself!" "That's right!" her mother had sneered. "And you'd better not, either, because I'll know when you do -- and so will every bad boy in town! You'll give off slut in heat vibes, and the first boy with the balls to do it will make you his bitch -- and you can kiss your future goodbye, because he'll be a bastard -- it goes with the territory!" The pair had railed at each other for another hour, but her mother's words had had their effect -- because no matter how vehement her denials, a little voice in Claudette had agreed with her mother's assessment, one hundred percent. That little piece of her nodded its head wisely and licked its chops. That little piece of her pointed out temptation by attempting to embrace it, licking its chops at every attempt to penetrate her defenses. The conflict with her mother died away; Claudette was too busy protecting herself, sharpening her tools and stiffening her defenses. But Claudette had an Achilles heel -- the very tools she used to protect herself could be used to cut her! Claudette was a master manipulator, capable of shaping her audience's perception of reality to meet her needs -- but she had BEEN manipulated from an early age, and anyone capable of pushing her buttons would have control over her in short order. Ted had been discovering buttons since her first overture that evening; by now, he had mastered several, and had his sights set on controlling several more. It was all a matter of technique... Now, for instance -- he had her dropping her defenses, not because she wanted to, but because he'd convinced her that she MUST to succeed in her plan to recover from Rob's loss. The truth had been an effective tool in Ted's hands; pointing out her failures, the errors that had lost her her partner in popularity and threatened to make her a laughingstock were forcing her to re-evaluate her tactics -- which was a good idea, on the face of it. Unfortunately for Claudette, the test case for her new behaviors was Ted -- and Ted had a totally different agenda... Ted kept up the pressure. "Is it me, then? Why did you offer to be with me if you can't stand me?" Now, as far as Claudette was concerned, the jury was still out on Ted -- but she couldn't admit it. She decided that it was best to fall back on the truth, to a point, "Okay, maybe I AM a little hung up. I'll try to do better." "Okay," Ted replied, still somewhat petulant. "You really need to be able to let me inside your space." That said, he again shifted his hand to her ribs. The proximity alarm for her breasts went off again, but Claudette silenced it. Her little beast was watching and gibbering, though, throwing up outrageous fantasies, distracting her. "That's better." Ted deliberately moved his hand all over her side, drifting from her stomach to her back and back again, conquering territory, but staying carefully away from areas that would be contested, like her ass or her breasts -- that could wait. "That's not so bad, is it?" "No." It felt good, actually, once her defenses were overridden -- and Little Beast was doing handstands. Slowly, she relaxed; Ted was keeping his hand in the proper areas, and he hadn't stepped outside the line or become too aggressive. Confidence returned. Ted lulled her for fifteen minutes or so, then decided to move on. "Okay, on to intramural kissing," he announced. "What?" Claudette was taken by surprise. Ted rolled his eyes. "Come on! You've been trading little sanitary pecks with Rob for months! We HAVE to improve on THAT!" He waited a moment while her features again reflected her internal struggle -- but he was right, of course, even from her perspective -- then he took her chin in his hand. Claudette made to duck away, and it took willpower not to clamp down on her, but he didn't -- and she came around. He pressed his lips to hers. It seemed to Claudette that maybe they were moving pretty quickly, but Ted was right, damn him! They needed to be convincing -- and she was going to have to give him something she hadn't given Rob, or he was gone, and her chances at recovery with him. She quelled her flight impulses and accepted his lips. ... Only they didn't go away. What should have been a peck went on for about five seconds, then Ted started massaging her lips with his. This generated a full-fledged case of angst in Claudette; on the one hand, he was pushing things pretty hard -- and on the other, it, well, felt nice... The Little Beast was quiet, waiting -- but it did that all the time, so Claudette didn't worry. But her frontal lobe was missing a bet -- the silence was gloating, anticipation; Little Beast was waiting for the Big One, and was pretty sure it was coming... Claudette misinterpreted the source of her excitement and, deciding that the exercise was pleasant and non-threatening after all, loosened up, responding to Ted's actions. The kiss was still close-mouthed, but it was at least a 'real' kiss... Pleased with progress, Ted let things ride for a few minutes and several kisses -- until Claudette appeared to be used to the level of contact. Then he began intermittent lightning penetrations of her lips with his tongue -- not yet open-mouthed French-kissing, but merely slipping through her lips. In the original mode of tight-lipped pecks, this would have been impossible, but now that their lips were moving, Claudette couldn't seal hers against him. Claudette's first reaction was to flinch backward, putting a hand to her lips, "Ted!" "What?" Ted feigned innocence, then smiled. Claudette thought about it for a moment, then smiled back -- the contact had tickled, and as long as her mouth was closed, it didn't really change anything... She leaned back in and Ted resumed the kisses, thinking, 'Blondes... ' Kissing went on for a bit longer, but Claudette started getting restless, so Ted figured it was time to shift tactics, "So, how are things thus far?" "Ummm, fine, fine..." Thus far, there had been no major breach in her defenses, and Ted was proving to be generally more tractable than she'd feared. She could do this; in fact, she could do this in public! And if this was all it took to keep Ted happy... It wasn't. "Okay," Ted drawled, settling back a bit. "I think we're making some progress -- but I told you that Rob and I don't operate in the same manner. That's probably good, since you never made it this far, but I still feel like we're playing to the crowd. I can't do that -- there has to be a real basis to what we're doing..." Claudette schooled her features. As pleasant as the past little bit had been, Ted had no REAL place in her future -- but she was going to have to convince him otherwise, or else her plan would fail. "I think we're coming along famously," she replied innocently. "I mean, these things need time to mature. What do you think needs to happen, really? I mean, it's kind of tough committing to a mature relationship based upon one date..." She smiled ingenuously. Ted pretended to take this seriously, but he was grinning to himself. The REAL entertainment of the evening was about to begin! "Well, there should be more to us than the public sees, don't you think? I mean, that's where you went wrong with Rob..." He let that sink in a bit. "Besides, we need to project that, anyway, and the best way is through reality, don't you think?" "Um, well, yes, I think..." It sounded good, but there was something slippery about it. Alarms were going off, and the Little Beast was showing long, glowing fangs... "Great! In my experience, for you to be able to believably pass off a little hugging and kissing in public, we need to have exceeded that by an order of magnitude in private..." "A wha... ? Ted!" Confusion turned to outrage as the hand at her waist moved up to cup her right breast. "What? I need to know if these are real to even PRETEND to be familiar with them to the level we're talking about..." Claudette started bucking and grabbing at his hand, so he pulled her against him with his free hand, muttering, "You sure do pad the shit out of them, Sweetie..." "Ted! TED! Stop!" Claudette screeched. What had happened? Everything had been going fine -- and now, suddenly, she was being molested! She started pushing her way out of his grasp. Ted rolled his eyes. "I KNEW you weren't serious! Fortunately, I planned for this..." He let her push off, then pushed her face into the blanket with one hand while reaching for the hunk of rope he'd put under the chair with the other. It had a plastic device on it that allowed for quick fastening; in no time, he had collected both of Claudette's wrists and cinched them together behind her back. Once that was done, he amused himself by pushing her face back into the blanket every time she struggled up while she carried on a running commentary about how insane he was and how he couldn't possibly expect to get away with this and how it was rape... That one he didn't let slide by, "I haven't raped you... yet. Do you want me to? Is that it?" "What?" Claudette whuffed out a lungful of air as a result of another push to the blanket. "No, no!" She gathered herself. "Come on now, Ted! What do you expect to accomplish by this?" "Actually? I expect to GET a relationship from you, one way or another!" Ted sneered. "You're an awful liar -- even if you have some concept of what a relationship is, you OBVIOUSLY never planned to do anything serious -- just toss me a few bones to keep me in suspense until you were done with me in the fall! Now that I think of it, I wonder if you ever REALLY had any honest plans for Rob!" Claudette lay there, silent, tasting fear. Ted was pissed! Was he right about Rob? Certainly, he was right about himself... Ted shook his head. "You know, if you'd offered the thing as a straight-up business proposition, we'd have at least gotten off on the right foot -- but, frankly, we'd have gotten to something like this, eventually. I don't do things for free, and I don't take cast-off shit! You OFFERED a real relationship, and I said I was interested. Now, I'm gonna do a little credit check -- and if I like what I see, then you'll be getting my services -- but you'll be paying a LOT more than what you thought you were going to, and in the end, I may end up owning YOU!" Claudette was thinking rapidly. Obviously, Ted was going to do something rash -- what were her options? Could she talk him out of it? Probably not -- Ted's reputation said that he followed through on his threats -- just look at Darla Jean! Maybe if she took the high road... "Ted, let me go this instant, or I'll scream!" Ted sat back and grinned. "Okay! Do you want to try different pitches? How far do you think you can be heard? C'mon, don't keep the wildlife waiting!" He reached out and prodded her ribs with a foot. "Go ahead! Belt one out!" Claudette blinked, stupefied. No fear, none. If Ted was that certain that no one would hear, it wasn't worth the effort, obviously... But Ted wasn't letting her off the hook. He rolled up onto his knees beside her and menaced, "We're waiting..." "Uh, I changed my mind..." Claudette eyed him over her shoulder. "Nope. Can't do that. Scream." He slapped her on the ass. "Ow!" "That's a scream?" Ted swatted her ass again, harder. "Ow! Please don't, Ted!" "Scream, then! Get yourself heard by the owls and the coyotes!" He delivered another, harder slap. "No, no! Please!" But Claudette felt her skirt being lifted above her waist, and Ted went to work, one hand and then the other, using her poor ass as a tom-tom! "Ow! Ow! Please! Please! Stop, please! Ouch! Ow!" Finally, Claudette gathered a lungful of air and let out an ear-splitting screech, "AAAIIIIIEEEEEEE!!! Stop! God, stop!" Ted sat back and made a production of listening for rescuers. "Do you hear anything?" he taunted, craning his neck this way and that to listen. "Anything at all?" "N-no," Claudette sniffled. "Care to try again?" "N-no." "Okay, then." Ted rolled Claudette over onto her back; she flattened her palms on the blanket to brace her sore ass above the cloth. "Time to do that credit check." He started hauling at her panties. "What are you doing?" Claudette whimpered. Her knees came up to block Ted's efforts. "Open up!" Ted swatted her thighs, brutally, alternating between them five or six times, while she rolled back and forth, trying to escape him -- but the hand he had on her belly had her pinned, and was pushing the breath out of her, anyway. "Okay, okay!" she gasped tearfully. "Please, don't..." "Relax!" Ted grunted, "For now, I just want to see the merchandise! Are you REALLY a blonde? Do the curtains match the carpet? Hold the fuck still, now, so I can pull those panties down..." There were pantyhose, too, which were a total pain in the ass... "I ought to cut this crap off of you!" An idea dawned, and he hauled her erect. "YOU get 'em off! Hurry up, or I'm gonna go find a stick to beat you with!" "But I'm tied!" Claudette wailed. "Yeah? So?" Ted settled into the chair. "Hurry up! If I get tired of waiting and get up, you're gonna have stripes from your ass to your knees!" Claudette was in reactive mode, no longer thinking about resistance; God knew nothing in the way of resistance had worked for her thus far! The pleated skirt she was wearing made getting at her pantyhose with her bound hands difficult; she floundered around until Ted yelled, "Look, Stupid, I'm gonna see your twat, anyway. Why don't you save yourself some pain and drop the skirt? I'm getting bored, here..." "Ummm..." Claudette bit her lip. Ted sounded just like Mom, scornful of her idiocy, calling her names... Her fingers flew to the button and zipper; she was stepping out of the puddle of fabric in moments, and hauling at the top of the pantyhose. Ted watched the ensuing struggle with some amusement. Claudette fought the pantyhose to her knees before looking up, "Is this enough?" "Might as well go for the whole thing," Ted replied. Claudette bit her lip and continued, sitting and twisting her legs under her to get the clinging nylon off her feet. By the time she finished she was exhausted, flopped over on her side, panting. Ted let that go for a second, enjoying the disarray -- Claudette's carefully coiffed hair was a mess -- before directing, "All right, bring it over here, Sweetie, so I can get a look at it." Claudette eyed him for a moment, weighing her options, then struggled to her knees. When it became apparent that she was going to climb to her feet, Ted stopped her, "No, no! Stay on your knees! It's not THAT far..." Claudette gingerly approached the chair. Gawd, what was he going to do? She stopped a couple of feet away. "Uh uh. Bring it in close, Sweetie -- we're SUPPOSED to be intimate!" Ted waved her forward, and Claudette really had no choice... She crawled closer, then settled back on her haunches. Ted rolled his eyes. "You just put yourself out of reach again! That's your whole problem, Sweetie -- you're unreachable! Work with me, here -- we're TRYING to cure that!" He crooked his finger. "Bring it right up to the chair..." Fearfully, Claudette followed instructions. Ted's aura of danger enveloped her, leaving her breathless. Her imagination was going nuts -- and so was Little Beast! What was THAT all about? She made to settle back onto her haunches, but Ted shook his head, "No, keep it up here where I can see it. So! Either you're coloring IT, too, or you really ARE a blonde!" He ran his fingers through the small kinky patch of somewhat darker, but undeniably blonde hair on her mons, grabbing a handful and holding it when she attempted to flinch away. "Naughty, naughty! Hold still!" Claudette's eyes widened and her mouth opened in a silent scream, but nothing came out; when she stopped trying to get away, he released her. "That's better." He fluffed and played with the patch of fur with the fingers of one hand, "Are you that smart -- that much of a fake? Or are you REALLY just a blonde?" "J-just a blonde..." Claudette offered timidly. Ted nodded, satisfied. "Yeah. All of the OTHER indications are that you're just a blonde," he sneered. "You're a little idiot, and THAT'S a prime indicator -- not to mention how BLATANTLY self-centered you are... Spread your legs!" "Ted..." Claudette, desperate, instinctively offered sweet reason -- Ted was sounding a LOT like Mom when she got pissed. Nasty insults... "Shut up!" Ted warned. "You don't want to piss me off any further, because at this point, I can up the ante pretty easily! Now DO what the FUCK I TELL you!" "Yes, Ted." It was time for a show of obedience; Mom would slap the shit out of her at this point... Claudette widened her knees. Predictably, Ted's hand slid under and started rubbing the lips of her cookie. Claudette had a tight, compact clam with an annoying, itchy bump at the top -- a bump that Ted's fingers found right away... Claudette assumed an absolutely desperate expression, and began to wriggle. "Hold still!" Ted barked. Claudette tried, but the itch was driving her nuts! She managed to hold still for about three seconds before moving again, "Sorry! I-I just can't..." Worse, she could feel a trickle of dampness gathering inside her cookie -- and the way Ted was feeling around between her lips, he was going to discover it soon... "So, slave to the joys of masturbation, are we?" Ted sneered. "I'm glad -- I figured you for totally frigid!" Claudette's eyes popped. "Mas-- I don't DO that! Mom doesn't..." Ted blinked. "You don't rub yourself off? Ever?" "N-no!" Claudette shook her head vehemently. "Mom said she could tell if I ever did -- and there would be Hell to pay!" "Well, I'll be..." Nonetheless, Ted stopped teasing her cookie -- something Claudette instantly missed. That itch just wouldn't go away... Little Beast whined and cried -- using Claudette's mouth! Claudette's eyes popped as she realized that she'd actually whined... "Whoa!" Ted absorbed this new information with some surprise! The little involuntary whine Claudette emitted when he stopped rubbing her clit revealed a whole box of secrets! 'Obviously, her mother is a whirling bitch -- and she's paved the way for me! No wonder the Ice Princess acts the way she does... ' Obviously, he could fuck Claudette tonight -- and get away with it, too, if he handled it properly! But that went a touch beyond the current plan... "Okay, lean forward..." Claudette did as she was told, and Ted grabbed her blouses -- she was wearing two spaghetti-strap tops in complimentary colors, something weirdly in fashion -- and pulled them up over her head (with some difficulty, due to her hands' position behind her) and let them slide down her arms behind her. "Time to get a look at the hooters..." Claudette, frozen by surprise when he lifted away her blouses, was galvanized, throwing herself backward -- but Ted was already in too close; he grabbed her bra right between her breasts and dragged her back forward, then delivered a vicious, roundhouse slap! "I SAID lean up! NOBODY said you could lean back!" Claudette, rocked by the blow, came back to a neutral position, her left cheek flaming red and eyes teary -- but she wasn't as shocked as one might expect... 'Uh huh, ' Ted thought. 'She's been slapped before... ' "Now lean up!" Claudette did so, obediently, and Ted wrestled with the clasp on her substantial brassiere, then pulled off the cups and managed to get it over her head. Then he settled back in the chair. Claudette made to move to an upright position, but Ted put a hand on top of her head, stopping her and nearly causing her to overbalance and flop into his lap. "No! I want to see how they look when they're drooping..." 'Drooping' was a misnomer; Claudette's breasts sagged little, if any. They were quite nice, too, 36C, round, and made a sweet bulge of cleavage when pushed up a bit by a brassiere -- and she had a pair of nice pink nipples that, unfettered, would make a nice dent in a blouse. Ted got what had to be one of the best looks at them by a male to date, since they were virtually always well-hidden. There, in the woods, with a slight breeze blowing, the areolas tightened up and the nipples extended, giving Ted a fine view of what they should be like at the height of passion. Leaning forward as she was made the shape of her breasts shift slightly toward the conical, rather than the hemispherical -- but it wasn't a major shift. Ted, still holding her head in place, reached out and cupped her left breast, catching her stiffened nipple between his thumb and forefinger while he gently squeezed. "Nice," he grunted, nodding approval. Letting go of her, he directed, "Turn sideways. Wriggle your shoulders." ------- Chapter 53B: Ted and Claudette Begin Defining their Relationship Claudette did as she was told; trepidation kept her from asking why. "Bend forward some and wiggle again," Ted prompted, and Claudette did so, clumsily because she was in danger of overbalancing. Ted picked up the question in her glance. "I'm looking for evidence that they're fake -- are they?" "No!" Claudette managed to project outrage. "They're all me!" Ted grinned -- he'd needled her successfully again. "Well, you're so full of shit that I don't figure I can take anything for granted... Turn around and show me the back side." Claudette did as she was told, but she was getting back some capability to offer a challenge. "Ted, why are you doing this?" "I TOLD you!" Ted replied. "I'm doing a credit check. I'm looking to see if what you bring to the table is worth my time! If it isn't, I walk, and your plan to show the world that Rob was dependent on YOU and not vice-versa goes in the crapper. If it is, then we work out just how expensive my assistance is going be to you, and you start making payments." Claudette eyed him nervously over her shoulder. "What kind of payments?" Ted reached out and rubbed Claudette's ass. "That's a fair question. I think I've already told you most of it; basically, if it's worth it to you to show Rob up, it's going to have to be worth it to you to actually put out the effort to HAVE a relationship with me, not just fake one. Naturally, that means you're gonna have to try to keep me happy and believing that you have some commitment to me --and for THAT, we're off to a rough start!" He swatted Claudette's ass, hard. "Ow!" Claudette managed to transmit a look of pain and betrayal. "Please don't do that!" Ted took a shot at her other ass cheek. "I will do as I please -- and you'll like it, understand?" "Ouch! Yes, Ted." "Better." Ted stood up. "Turn around and put your front end on the chair seat." He stepped around her. "Hurry up!" Claudette did as she was told -- it was too late not to, anyway -- watching him fearfully over her shoulder. "Ted, umm, you're not..." "I wouldn't give me ideas, if I were you!" Ted warned. "Raise your ass! Put your chest on the chair, there... now spread your legs!" Ted squatted behind her, waiting while she reluctantly widened her stance. Putting one hand on her ass, he leaned in to examine Claudette's holes closely. The camel toe of her compact twat sat below the little pink, wrinkled bud of her asshole, making a delightful picture... Ted ran his finger around the ring, watching as well as feeling her flinch and clench before dragging his finger down into her slit. Claudette had amazingly thick outer lips for a fairly slim, athletic girl; Ted usually saw twats like this on chunkier stock. Darla Jean, for instance, hadn't had much in the way of outer labia, but had thin, rubbery inner ones -- and Ted had more or less expected to see similar on Claudette, given their relatively similar builds. Claudette's twat began to swell and the lips opened as Ted dragged his finger up and down in her slit, exposing her pink interior and vestigial inner lips. Claudette lay across the chair, quivering. She couldn't SEE what Ted was doing, but she could certainly FEEL it! First, he'd played with her heiny, making her clench up, and now he was messing with her cookie again! She closed her eyes, afraid to look at Ted for fear she would see his amusement at her embarrassment; she KNEW she was opening up down there and getting wet... Little Beast was unchained, dancing around in anticipation; Ted was running his fingers over her bump again, and the itchy urgency in her was becoming maddening... Ted was somewhat amazed. Despite everything -- cold, fear, embarrassment, nudity, crude fingers in her twat -- Claudette was wiggling her ass! And it wasn't to get away, either -- when his touch got lighter, she backed up! He fingered her clit -- a decent, pea-sized item peeking out of its hood -- and got a gasp and a muffled grunt! How in Hell had Rob failed to put the meat to this little bitch? With a little thought, the answer became obvious; Claudette was adept at working people, including Rob. As long as she kept him at arm's length, he was never gonna know... More rubbing elicited more grunting -- and more finger-chasing. In the chair seat, Claudette lay with her eyes closed -- and a flush that didn't look like embarrassment, especially when you added in the distended nostrils! "You're cherry, right?" Ted confirmed. "Cherry?" Claudette opened a glazed eye. "A virgin," Ted amplified. "Of course!" Claudette managed to project wounded dignity. "Will I be in an hour?" "That's not as clear as it was..." Sticking his dick in her was looking more and more inviting to Ted. "No, please!" Claudette gasped, "I REALLY need to stay a virgin! Mom will KILL me!" "Raise up!" Ted directed, hauling on Claudette's arms from behind. Claudette did as she was told and resumed a vertical position -- but she was seriously missing Ted's fingers! Ted circled around and sat for a moment, then pulled Claudette's head toward him -- not enough to unbalance her, just enough so that when he leaned forward, they were eye to eye. "Okay, you pass the appearance tests; now we're getting to the performance part of the exam. Now before you start yammering about your virginity, I want you to listen to me; if you do, some of your questions will be answered, and you might avoid pissing me off! Understand?" "Um, yes, Ted." Claudette nodded, a model of compliance. "Okay. There are two scenarios here. Scenario one is that you fuck around and act up, say and do stupid shit and piss me off. If that happens, anything goes -- I've got nothing to lose, so you'll end up fucked up at the very least! Understand?" Claudette nodded. Ted had a short fuse, just like Mom. The same rules applied to him that applied to her -- not that Ted knew that... "Scenario two says you're a good girl, and do what I tell you and genuinely try to make me happy. That being the case, I'm going to want to keep you around, so you can continue to do things that make me happy. You'll be, like, a renewable resource, get it? In return, I'll need to do stuff occasionally that makes YOU happy -- like being your perfect escort in public. If you're REALLY good, I have a few ideas for making our private time something you look forward to, too! Understand?" Claudette was almost cross-eyed, they were so close. "I--I think so..." she answered, nodding. "Okay." Ted pushed her back on her haunches and stood up, straddling her, tilting her head up by the handful of hair he was holding at the back of her head. "Now. Remember earlier when I mentioned that there are things you can do to keep your man happy without losing your virginity?" Claudette blinked. Had he said anything like that? He must have... Yes, he did! "Uh huh." "Okay, then. You're going to learn to do one of them now." He squatted down a bit and got in her face again, holding her head in place with that hand in her hair, "Now when we get started, I figure you're gonna freak, so I'm gonna go over this REAL SLOW and try to be REAL CLEAR! You can do this my way -- and if you do, I'll be considerate of your comfort to an extent and I'll try not to make it TOO miserable. On the other hand, you can freak out totally -- in which case, I'll be a LOT rougher! And, frankly, if shit goes downhill too far, losing your cherry is gonna be a minor issue! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" Claudette gulped. "Yes, Ted!" Gawd, he was just like Mom when he got worked up... "Good." Ted stood up, and his voice became conversational. "Tonight, you're gonna learn all about giving a guy a blow job..." He started undoing his trousers. "What?" Claudette leaned back, gaped, and started to back away. SLAP! She never saw it coming, but Ted rocked her. "I TOLD you that you would probably freak..." Claudette was still seeing stars when he re-collected her hair to keep her from moving away. He cranked her head back again. "Are you back with me?" "I-- A blow job?" Claudette gasped -- but she wasn't moving. She merely gazed up at Ted incredulously. Ted shook his head. "You and vocabulary. How about if I call it 'giving head'?" "Ted, I can't. I--I..." "Well, it IS clear that you never have!" Ted grunted. "But you're going to learn, and you're going to learn tonight! Understand?" "No, I can't..." Suddenly, it felt like Ted was going to pull half of her hair out! "AAAAAUGH!" Ted was down in her face again, and his expression was just mean! "You can and you WILL, one way or the other! You have two choices -- you can make an honest effort to blow me -- or I'll slap the piss out of you and use your face for a fuck hole, then roll you over and take your cherry and finish up in your ass! You get me?" "Y--yes, Ted!" "Now shut up! From now on, 'no' is not in your vocabulary -- not when you deal with me! Do you understand?" "Yes, Ted!" Ted let go of her hair, but Claudette knew better than to move as he worked his trousers down his legs and stepped out of them, kicking off his shoes in the process. That left his boxers, and they were tented; Ted was having a Hell of a time working the Ice Princess over! Flicking them down over his thighs, he let them drop to his ankles and kicked out, deliberately waving his erection right in Claudette's face. Taking it in his hand, he menaced her with it. "This is a cock -- or a dick, or prick, or man-meat, dork, Johnson -- whatever. You would probably call it a penis, but I call it a cock. Why? Because nobody ever called a person who does what you're going to do now a penis-sucker..." Claudette had instinctively looked away, so Ted took another handful of her hair and re-oriented her. "Open your eyes and get a good look, because you're gonna get REAL friendly!" Claudette looked up at him, blinking watery eyes; Ted shook his head, rolling his eyes before directing them at his crotch, "It's down there..." Claudette surrendered and took a look, grimacing. "It looks like a snake!" It did -- a big, pinkish snake with a purplish head... Ted snorted laughter. "Weird Willie, the one-eyed wonder worm! Give him a kiss, Sweetie -- you're gonna make it up to him for being kicked out of the Garden of Eden..." Claudette eyed the... thing... sticking up from Ted's crotch. He COULDN'T be SERIOUS! He wanted her to SUCK that? But his hand in her hair was driving her forward... "Okay, okay! Let me..." "What?" Ted was running out of patience. "Well, get used to it..." "Pick up the pace!" Claudette leaned in close and smelled it. Musky. Kind of interesting, though... Down a bit... The smell got stronger as she got closer to his body. Suddenly, she over-balanced, flopping over head-first into his crotch! "What the fuck!" Ted started hauling on her hair. "Ow! Ow! Wait!" Claudette howled. "What the fuck are you doing?" "I fell, okay? Don't rip my head off! Give me a second!" Claudette inhaled -- and her nose was right across the root of his member. Wow! Something about that smell... Ted was about to jack her back up by her hair when Claudette's tongue came out and started washing the base of his cock and his balls. "That's, uh, not exactly what I had in mind, but I'm gonna let you run with it..." he murmured distantly, letting up on her hair. Nobody had ever really gotten in there and messed with his balls or the hair at the root of his cock -- it was all new -- and pretty cool, too! Claudette was distantly amazed at herself, but the smell of Ted's crotch gave her this buzz... Suddenly, the whole thing wasn't so bad! He tasted kind of nice, too -- weird, but nice... She started trying to lick up the shaft, but she couldn't get up... "I'm stuck..." Since she was being a good girl, Ted lifted her by the shoulders. "Not so bad, huh?" "Uh uh." Claudette extended her neck so she could get a lap at his glans. "Can you scoot up or something? I can't get at it..." Suddenly, it was urgent that she suck this thing -- lick it -- whatever. The feelings that washed over her when she smelled Ted's musk -- just wild! She felt energized -- free! Free to do what he wanted her to do, free of any worry about what someone might say. Suddenly, that wasn't important; what WAS important was enjoying the feelings that Ted's aura imparted... Ted was somewhat confused. He'd expected that getting Claudette to actually graduate to cock sucking was going to take a bit more time -- and a LOT more abuse! Instead, here she was, lapping at the underside of his cock and asking, "What do you want me to do?" "For now, pretend it's a lollypop -- no teeth!" Ted directed, before curiosity got the better of him. "What happened? Why did you change your tune?" Claudette stopped lapping, screwed up her face in thought, and shrugged. "Smells good." Then she engulfed the head. "Ooookaaay..." Smell? He was half expecting to hear that his cock smelled gross! Instead, she was all over it! Maybe... What were those things a body gave off -- some kind of triggers? Pheromones! That HAD to be it! His smell made Claudette hot! Weird, but it gave them something real in common -- which was better that just the blackmail pics he was going to take... And she was certainly sucking! Claudette was, too! Ted's... cock... tasted, well, great! She couldn't explain it, but the texture was nice, and the taste was nice -- and the SMELL was CERTAINLY nice! It all seemed so... natural. What else was going on? Claudette thought about it, vaguely, sucking the spongy tip of Ted's cock. Why did she feel so free? She wasn't... conflicted... Little Beast was gone -- or something... No, she was there -- they just weren't fighting... Thank God she was kneeling -- her cookie was becoming a sloppy mess, and it itched and burned and tingled... Ted was busy re-evaluating. Claudette was fighting him not at all -- something unexpected, to say the least! She seemed to be perfectly happy doing lollypop-time on the head of his dick -- which was a source of total amazement to him. Well, time to up the ante... "Okay, now, cock sucking is all about pretending that your mouth is a talented pussy. When a guy fucks, he runs his dick in an out of your pussy. That does things for you and things for him. Cock sucking is all about doing for him; you want to take it as deep as you can, then back all the way off, with your lips tight and your tongue working. Sucking is good, but sucking really hard isn't, because it causes too much friction and you tend to mash his cock against the harder places in your mouth. Pussies don't have hard places; the hardest place nearby is your pubic bone, and it's kinda padded. Understand?" "Ugm huh," Claudette mumbled around his glans. She'd been all attention during the instruction. "Okay, try it." Ted still had his hand in her hair at the back of her head, but Claudette apparently needed no encouragement at all -- she immediately started vacuuming her way up his shaft... "Breathe through your nose," Ted hissed. "Real sluts learn to take it right down their throat, but I don't expect anything like that tonight..." Actually, if she had fought him, he'd have used her mouth and throat for a fuck hole and would have enjoyed it -- but her willing cooperation was forcing him to take another path... "Back all the way to the tip. At the very least, you want to run your lips over the ridge, because the area just behind the ridge is REALLY sensitive! Okay, bring it back. Long-stroke it; remember, you're fucking me with your mouth..." Ted had to admit that Claudette was being a real trouper -- AND she was doing a real fine job! Claudette really didn't need any encouragement to go deep; that got her nose into his pubes, and she LOVED that! Licking his hard shaft, tasting the goo that was coming out of the tip -- these were all well worth the effort. She rode her lips up and down the shaft a half-dozen times, going as deep as she could, nearly gagging to get in there close. But there were questions, and there were issues... She released his tip with a pop. "Can I ask a question?" "Uhm, yeah..." DAMN, this was good! She was back on him before he had time to react, too... She went three before asking, "What's the stuff you're dripping?" "Huh? Oh. It's generally called pre-cum. I think it's a lubricant, primarily." Claudette went a few more strokes. "Can I have my hands?" "What?" Ted was instantly tense. "No, no! Wait! Listen!" Claudette dived back onto him, obviously highly motivated. After four more lavings of his shaft, she came up for air and speech again, "I'm having trouble staying balanced!" Back on, for three. "I could hurt you -- or me!" On for four. "Put a rope around my feet -- or my neck, if you want!" On for three. "I'll be good! I want your... stuff..." Tim didn't know which should come first -- confusion, or suspicion! She WANTED him to jizz? "In your mouth? You're gonna get it in a couple of minutes, anyway, the way you're going..." "Really?" Claudette's eyes lit up. "Cool!" She dove on him twice, then turned on the charm, "Please! I want to try the throat thing, but I need control..." Ted's amazement knew no bounds! But he knew better than to get TOO cocky. "I want a picture first -- with your hands behind you so the rope doesn't show." Claudette wasn't happy with this; she paused, lipping his glans while she thought about it. Backing off, she whined, "A picture? Why?" "You KNOW why! Blackmail material! My insurance policy that you don't dash off and yell rape!" "Oh." Claudette absorbed his cock twice while she thought about it, then insisted, "You don't need it for this -- you can have this anytime you want it..." "That's... good to hear..." 'EXTREMELY good!' Ted added to himself. It was getting hard to think... "But things are kinda out there, right now. I can't REALLY take your word for it that everything is hunky-dory. Since you got silly on me, I've slapped you around some, made you get naked -- all kinds of shit that could get me in trouble unless I have an insurance policy..." Claudette grimaced. "But if pictures get out, I'm screwed..." "Riiight. That's my lever." "But you could just show them for spite..." She was right, of course. "That's why you need to be sure and keep up you payments..." "Think you can cum twice? Maybe I can get ahead..." Claudette smiled engagingly for a moment before recapturing his glans. This was out of hand... "What if I want something else?" Claudette released his cock, leaned forward and buried her nose in his pubic hair. She inhaled deeply; calm suffused her. "You're in charge, Ted. I'm sure that whatever you want, you'll get..." She started laving his balls with her tongue. Thirty minutes ago, the suggestion that she do something like that would have caused Claudette to rant shrilly that Ted was insane -- but now she really, REALLY wanted to... ... And it tickled like mad and was VERY arousing. Ted wondered vaguely if this mindset of hers extended to rim jobs -- she was DAMNED close, at this point! He shook his head to clear it. "I want a picture of you sucking my cock!" "Yes, Ted," Claudette mumbled into his crotch. So he had a picture of her being a cock sucker -- so what? Did it matter? It was true... Ted, rattled by Claudette's compliance, dug in a pocket of the folding chair for the digital camera he kept there -- usually for fishing trips and such, but tonight he was trolling for bigger game... "Okay, let's do it!" Claudette backed off. "Will you undo my hands after?" "You're gonna get the neck rope." "Okay." She leaned forward and cradled his glans on her tongue, "How'th thith?" "Uh, yeah. Look at the camera!" Ted snapped the shot. Whatever he had that was doing this to Claudette, he needed to bottle it! "Okay, get a mouthful..." Claudette did as she was told, and the camera flashed again. Ted shifted to display mode to see what he'd gotten, his fingers clumsy because Claudette had put her mouth in gear again. The first picture was better than he imagined; where did Claudette get that hot-eyed look? The second left Ted ambivalent; Claudette had closed her eyes -- but she was visibly smiling around a mouthful of cock meat! "I want another one," he croaked, finally. "You closed your eyes." "Thowwy." Claudette obediently endured the flash, then sucked while Ted fumbled with the camera. "Kay?" "Yeah." This one had it all -- the hot eyes, the smile, and something else, something servile... Hell it was enough to get you to blow a wad in your pants, just looking at it! He put the camera away in the chair pocket with shaking hands; Claudette was learning, moment by moment, which spots on his cock to tickle... Lurching up, he grunted, "Go deep and hold it while I get you untied..." Leaning over her back, he fumbled with the plastic clasp that held the rope tight. 'Here we go, ' he thought, but when he settled back. His hand on the back of Claudette's head to keep her in place, she merely puffed and blew air in and out of her nose and gagged a little. Ted could NOT believe this; if he'd been her, he'd have bit his dick off and taken off running, hoping he'd bleed to death; instead, Claudette just sucked... He let her up, dropping the loop over her head. "This thing has a quick-release, but it's made to tighten..." He demonstrated; Claudette's face got a little red before he got it loose, and she looked a bit faint before he fumbled it off. "Whew! Based on that, I'd say the thing will cut off the blood to your brain, not just choke you! You're gonna want to be careful!" Claudette's eyes were big. "You, too, please! I just want to suck your..." "Cock. For your purposes, it's a cock. And you're a cock sucker." "Uh huh." Claudette didn't argue. Ted latched the rope collar with a couple of finger-widths of free space; a tug would snug it, but there was no need to take unnecessary risks. "Suck." Claudette crawled up, put her forearms on the chair on either side of him, cradled his ass in her hands, bent her neck and went to town! "Uuuuhhh! Holy Shit!" Ted erupted. Claudette looked up, stricken. "Something wrong?" "No, no! You got something going, there, Baby! Go for it!" Ted gasped. "Ummmmm!" Claudette dove on her new toy. Ted sat hunched, rigid. Never in his life had he been DEVOURED like this -- it was intense! It was a bit before he could get beyond the sensations Claudette was causing and take in her efforts; when he did, he noticed that she was choking, regularly. "Swallow!" "Mmmph?" "You're trying to get me into your throat, aren't you?" "Mmmm hmmm." "When you get it there, swallow. And take it easy, when you try -- right now, I'm hitting the wall back there!" God knew if she hadn't been pounding him against her palate occasionally, he'd have blown his nut already! Red-faced, panting and blowing, drool all over, Claudette pulled him in. The veins in her neck stood out; she was gagging something awful. Then he watched her swallow -- and her FELT the result! The Ice Queen had taken him into her throat! Who the FUCK would EVER believe THAT! "Wow, Baby -- that's impressive! Don't hurt yourself, now -- that's not something you have to do all the time..." Ted could NOT BELIEVE that he was being solicitous -- but on the other hand, the only way he had ever envisioned Claudette doing deep throat was as a result of him jamming his cock down her croaking throat! This... this took re-evaluation. This required that he start looking seriously at actually being NICE to Claudette! How do you take advantage of someone who GIVES you your wildest fantasies? In the back of his head a voice told him that was STUPID -- it was killing the goose that laid the golden eggs... Claudette tried two more times in the sixty seconds that elapsed before Ted's balls started to draw up in preparation to blow his nut -- and succeeded once. It looked like she was going to go for three, so Ted forestalled her, "I'm gonna blow in a second! Back off and just give me head..." At this point, he was cradling her blonde locks, not holding a hank of them. Claudette could feel his urgency; the rod of flesh in her mouth was hardening, the spongy head swelling -- it was one of the most thrilling things she had ever experienced! And then it happened; Ted hunched himself and gave out a strained grunt and his cock surged, pulsed, and spat a flood of thick goo into her mouth! Claudette swallowed, but not before a second blast followed the first! There was a third, but it was already gentler, while still copious, and the fourth and fifth tailed off; after that, Ted's cock pulsed, but it was no longer a delivery system. Claudette savored her mouthful of product, smiling; a lot of people wouldn't like it, but she did. It was Ted, and the taste of it agreed with her, just like his smell... For Ted, the whole thing had just been incredible! He'd gotten his rocks off before, but never so intensely! He'd always had to keep an eye out for his partner to do something wrong -- to try to escape his power, or try to rip him off. This time, he lost track totally during the eruption; belatedly, he realized that he could have killed Claudette by accident while in the throes of his orgasm! On the other hand, she probably could have bit his dick off and he'd have been unable to react! Neither had happened, though; Claudette was contentedly suckling his cock head -- something he could just barely stand, after blowing that load -- somehow managing to smile around it... "Uh, that's enough, Honey. It's real sensitive, now." "Okay." Was that a pout? Claudette pulled back and engaged Ted's eyes. "Any time you want that, you let me know, okay?" "Yeah, sure." Ted agreed distantly. "You really seemed to like that." "Uh huh," Claudette agreed. "I did -- a lot!" She was basking in the glow of her accomplishment -- Ted had squirted all over the place! "Come here..." Ted undid the rope. He HAD the pics, after all -- besides, Claudette was -- what? This wasn't the Ice Princess -- it was another, different girl -- one who stood up, smiled, and said, "Want to take some more pictures?" "Well, yeah, actually..." Shit, if she was gonna stand there... Collecting her blouses, he said, "Hey, you don't need both of these, do you?" "Huh?" Claudette blinked. "I guess not..." "Come here, then." Ted separated the pink top from the green one and used it to wipe off Claudette's chin and chest where she was shiny with her own spit. "Might as well take NICE pictures..." Her hair was a bit of a mess, but she seemed to be coming out of her daze, somewhat -- time to get what he could in the way of additional evidence... Fishing in the chair, he came up with the camera, "Okay, smile!" He got two full-length photos of her, gloriously naked, and a close- up from the tits up -- any one of which was undeniable evidence that he'd melted the Ice Princess. Toward the end, Claudette started frowning, and Ted concluded that whatever high she was on was beginning to fade. "Come on, Honey, let's get you back into your clothes..." Somewhere during the past half-hour, they had both changed. Ted's plans for Claudette had shifted from immediate gratification and eventual demolition to an honest attempt to sustain things -- while covering his ass, of course. "Sweetie" as a nickname went away during that period, because that was the nickname Ted always applied to his victims. Claudette was no longer quite that; in fact, to a certain extent, he was responsible for her continued well-being, if he wanted to continue using her. He needed to go ahead and help her with her little popularity projects (not that he gave a shit about such things), and maybe he even owed her a little something... Claudette was wrestling her clothing into a wearable condition, looking more and more troubled; obviously, reality was leaking in. Time to put it off a bit; besides, Claudette hadn't earned punishments and she HAD earned rewards! "Leave that for a minute and come over here, Honey." Ted settled onto the blanket with his legs crossed and motioned her over. "Mom's gonna be worried..." Mom wasn't the only one! Gawd, what had she been doing with Ted? Things had been good, then they'd gone terribly wrong, and Ted had gotten mean -- and then they got better again, largely because she stopped worrying about the small stuff. But it WASN'T small stuff -- It was BIG stuff, and she'd done some crazy things... This was all going to come back to haunt her... All this went through her mind while she walked over to Ted, who pulled her down beside him. "You okay?" he asked. "I--I don't know..." "Shhhhh, relax, lay down on my lap..." Ted murmured. Claudette, still malleable, did as she was told. Ted had put his undershorts back on, but he wasn't much ahead of Claudette. The head in the lap thing was an experiment... ... And it was successful. Claudette let Ted press her head into his lap more or less against her better judgment -- experience with his violent side had been the clincher. But once there she slowly began to relax. "God, you smell good! Is that after-shave or something? Cologne? Body spray?" "It's just me." Ted went from rubbing her arm to rubbing her side to cupping her right breast inside two minutes -- all he got was murmurs and wiggles. Blatant nipple play brought gasps. "Remember when I said that if we had a relationship, sometimes I would do things to make you happy?" Ted asked conversationally. "Mmm hmmm..." Happy like now? Like when he mauled her nipple with his fingers and shooting flashes of pleasure went everywhere? Like the way her cookie was drooling and the nubbin at the top was making her rub her legs together? "Okay, Honey, you've been real good, and this is one of those times. Roll over on your back... Now spread your legs a bit..." Ted switched hands, using his left to go to work on her left breast while his right headed for her crotch. Christ! She was soaked! Ted ran three fingers up and down between Claudette's legs. Claudette hunched her back and lifted both knees. He was going to need more room; Ted gently extricated himself, settling Claudette's head on the blanket. Claudette moaned, but didn't put up a fuss. Ted put those three fingers to work, massaging Claudette's twat while working her left nipple with his left hand. "Omigod..." Claudette undulated. She remembered being worried about the future, but Ted had calmed her. Then she got incredibly... aroused... and Ted said he was going to make her happy -- wasn't that nice? And he played with her nipple -- that was nice! -- and her cookie started itching like mad, and Ted started rubbing it. Now it itched worse than ever, but Ted's rubbing it felt SOOO good... "Mmmph... Mmmph... Oh, God..." Ted smiled. Claudette's wild side was just simply amazing! The Ice Princess was a sex pistol! There was no way was she going to make it to marriage with her cherry! Kneeling over her, he lowered his lips to hers and husked, "Give me a kiss now, Honey! Do a good job! Suck my tongue..." He pressed his lips to hers and they flowered open immediately. He darted his tongue inside and she moaned into his mouth and her tongue started playing tag with his. Meanwhile, she humped his hand more and more furiously. One hand came up to wrap around his neck and the other grabbed his wrist, anchoring it while she thrashed harder and harder! When Ted got up and moved his crotch away from her nostrils, Claudette began to recover again -- but that was all irrelevant, because she was in the grip of a new stimulus -- one every bit as powerful, if not more so! Ted's hand in her cookie was making promises, promises Claudette wanted fulfilled in the worst way! The kissing -- that wasn't anything she could control -- it seemed to go with everything else... Now, the urgency was mounting -- she knew what was coming in general, but had NO IDEA what it would be like in particular... "Mmmf... Mmmmf... MMMMF!! MMMMMF!! MMMMMMF!!!! MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMEEEEEEEEEE!!!!" Claudette screamed into Ted's mouth as the whirlwind took her. The scream was Little Beast declaring her freedom, ascending from Claudette's galvanized body and taking her consciousness with her. ------- Chapter 54: Late Night at the Pinkersley's The Claudette who awakened after that cataclysmic orgasm wasn't the one who participated in it; she came up slowly and reality leaked in before she opened her eyes. Ted knew the difference; the first thing Claudette did when her eyes opened fully (she'd cracked them to see who was cradling her head and Ted had detected it) was to snatch her remaining blouse from the pile of clothing nearby and cover her breasts -- something Ted found amusing. "Are you okay?" he asked. "I guess so," Claudette replied carefully. She had several recent reminders of the effects of crossing Ted. There were questions, though, many of which started with 'Why on Earth... ?' "Did you drug me?" Ted looked thoughtful. "I guess so. Maybe. Inadvertently." Claudette eyed him suspiciously. "You did or you didn't..." "Well, I didn't set out to. Ever hear of pheromones?" Claudette frowned in thought. "Umm, smells animals give off that trigger behaviors in other animals. Usually sex..." Her eyebrows went up. Ted nodded. "Yeah. You like the way I smell. A lot!" "That's ridiculous! Did you get something in a chem lab or something?" "Nope. All natural. You smell me and you forget to be hung up. Everything else works, mostly -- but your defenses go down and it's open season!" "No way!" "Way!" Ted adjusted his position to his left and lifted her head to his crotch. "Smell." "Your crotch? You're kidding, right?" Ted waited; she'd drawn a breath, anyway... 'Ted has to be nuts!' Claudette thought. 'Pheromones! Well, I guess it won't hurt anything... ' She inhaled deeply. 'It's kind of unique... ' She lifted her head; Ted shifted his hand to support her neck, but didn't press. She reached across with her left arm, grasping Ted's hip and rolling over to engage him further. 'Wow! REALLY rich... ' When Claudette started snorting and burrowing her nose under his balls, Ted figured his point was made; he gently extricated himself, muffling her whines by means of a deep kiss and fondling her left nipple, working her while she came back to herself. When she let go of him and grabbed his arm, he released her lips and smiled into her eyes. "How do you feel?" "Hot. And foolish. How long does it last?" "Plenty long enough to get into your pants," Ted replied. "And once I'm there, you're busy thinking about other things." She'd grabbed his arm, but she hadn't pulled his hand away from her breast. And she was receptive when he leaned in and kissed her again. "So I smell you and I get all hot and bothered? How embarrassing..." Ted nodded. "Once you're jump-started and the juices are flowing, it's sustainable. By then you're horny and the walls stay down." Claudette frowned. "So I'm defenseless?" "You already were." "That's overconfidence." Ted shook his head. "Think about it. I had you naked, tied up, and thoroughly cowed BEFORE we discovered that your nose loves me. What it DOES do is make both of our lives easier!" "It does?" "Sure. I wanted something genuine from you -- but frankly, I didn't think I was going to get it, and I was going for the short-term victory. I was all set to fuck you over and leave you flat -- and then TOTALLY destroy you by leaking the news! But this -- this changes things. I have something from you that could generate a long-term relationship -- something genuine and tested that you can't be faking. That being the case, it's in MY best interest to make commitments of my own, rather than just fucking you over. See?" Claudette grimaced. "You think we have a future after what you did to me?" Ted shrugged. "I prefer to look at what I DIDN'T do. Except for a short period when it looked like you had nothing to offer and I had nothing to lose, things have gone pretty well." He locked eyes with her, "Besides, you still have your cherry -- and you've been slapped around before." Claudette put her hand to her mouth, shocked. "You don't know that!" "If I didn't, I do now!" Ted replied. "Besides, I could tell before -- slapping you around didn't cause anything in the way of hysteria. It was old news -- and you knew what to do afterward, too!" "And what was that?" "Obey!" Ted's eyes bored into hers for a moment, then he settled back. "I think we've covered a lot of ground, actually." "Oh?" Ted nodded. "How many boys have seen you naked?" "Besides you?" Claudette set about trying to cover her whole midsection with the skimpy blouse. "Yes." "None. But that was under duress." "Taking photos wasn't. That was your idea." Ted smiled. "How many boys have kissed you like I just did? How many have played with your tits? How many have made you cum?" "Ted!" "Well?" "Okay, but you used dirty tricks!" "To get you naked, maybe. Kissing we were doing already. You didn't fight me feeling you up. And you CERTAINLY didn't fight me getting you off!" "I was drugged!" "So you say." Ted grinned. "In any case I made no deliberate effort to alter your consciousness -- it was merely an extremely fortunate coincidence. Oh, and while I had it in mind to force you to suck my cock, I didn't have to do THAT, either!" He looked smug. "Ted!" "Okay, I'll quit needling you. But you need to quit pretending you haven't been enjoying yourself!" "But..." "But nothing! It's too late to close the door, Honey -- I'm inside!" He squeezed her breast gently. "See? Who else can do that?" "You shouldn't be!" "You've had I don't know how long to push me away..." "You'll go nuts and beat me!" Claudette cast about desperately for an excuse. Ted shook his head. "I don't think I have to." Ted removed his hand from her breast and caressed her ribs. "You're making excuses for the fact that you've surrendered. You're NOT fighting me -- and I'm no longer forcing myself on you!" He leaned over and kissed her. ... And her mouth opened and she felt like a fool! "Mmph! Okay! You made your point!" she whined, pushing him away. "Can I get dressed now?" "Yeah. Time you went home and got your beauty sleep." Ted stood up and offered a hand to help her get up. Claudette thought about refusing, but it was clearly a waste of time. Once vertical, she said, "You said a lot of nasty things, earlier. I'm just supposed to forget them?" Ted shrugged. "You make me mad or you cheat on me and you might be better off remembering." "Cheat on you?" "You're mine, now." "I am not!" "Think about it -- wasn't this what you wanted? Me telling everyone we're a couple?" "Uuh..." "But at least one of us was supposed to be lying, right?" "We've covered that." "But is it fixed?" Ted pressed. "Yeah, I guess." Claudette flounced over to her discarded skirt. Damn him! Apparently, he could make her bark like a dog, if he wanted to -- and like it! But remembering his hand on her breast, the taste of his lips, the WILD feelings he awoke between her legs... "Okay. How often are you gonna make me whiff your underwear?" "If you're a good girl, I won't HAVE to!" Ted looked smug. "Or were you looking for a number to look forward to?" "Ted!" Claudette spun on him, exasperated. "Do you HAVE to needle me?" "Well, no, but it's a lot of fun..." Ted's smile would have done credit to a crocodile. Zipping his pants, he added, "C'mon, let's get you home..." "Mom's going to FREAK! What time is it?" "A little after one." "Oh, shit!" "How unladylike!" Ted scoffed. "Mom's going to beat me to DEATH! I won't be able to wear a bathing suit for a month!" Claudette wailed. "I guess I'll have to ride to the rescue..." "A BOY? Ride to the rescue? Why don't you just SHOOT me?" Claudette was inconsolable all the way home. Her green blouse was okay, but the pink one was slimed; her nylons hadn't survived removal, and her hair was a tousled mess! There was NO WAY she was going to escape the inquisition, unless... There were no visible lights at the Pinkersley home on their arrival. "This looks good," Ted opined. Claudette nodded; even if Mom strung her up for being late in the morning, it would be better than having her SEE her this way! They tiptoed up to the door, and Claudette worked the lock. "Good night," she whispered. "What? No kiss?" "Ted!" "Arguing will just make noise..." "Oh, all right!" She tried to give him a peck, but of course, he wouldn't settle for that -- and she didn't fight THAT hard... Ted stood there grinning while she slowly opened the door -- which insisted on creaking something awful... She stepped inside and turned to make shooing motions when a voice out of the darkness rasped, "Claudette..." Claudette whirled. "Mom!" The lights came on, blinding her, while her mother's voice directed, "Invite him in..." Claudette looked like death when she turned to wave Ted inside. Ted went poker-faced. Well, he was going to meet the Medusa at some point, anyway... He stepped through the door and meticulously closed it behind him. Claudette had turned back to her mother, an anxious look on her face. "Mom, this is Ted -- he brought me home..." "I see that," Charlotte Pinkersley replied flatly. "I can read a clock, too!" She stood there, taking in Claudette's state of disarray and her handful of clothing items with a jaundiced eye. Claudette decided to take another run at things. "He..." "GO TO YOUR ROOM!" Charlotte's voice boomed. "I'll deal with YOU later!" Claudette opened her mouth, but Charlotte's arm came up and her finger pointed off down the hallway. Claudette hung her head and stepped off. Ted watched her go, noting that she didn't try to say anything additional to him. Obviously, Claudette was thoroughly cowed... Charlotte turned her attention on the dark-haired boy in the entry hall. "I assume that there was some misadventure? Flat tire? Out of gas?" Clear brown eyes in a wary but untroubled face met hers. "No." "Why was my daughter carrying clothing?" "It was no longer wearable." Ted knew better than to lie or grovel -- the Medusa would eat him alive if he did. Better to engender some respect. He eyed the woman, an older version of Claudette, but with sharper features -- the face of a woman who measured others regularly and found them wanting. Interest sparkled Charlotte's eyes; apparently this one was a tough little bastard... "So what happened?" "We were conducting a negotiation, creating a partnership designed to deal with Claudette's current social problems," Ted replied. He smiled grimly. "I turned out to be the superior negotiator." Charlotte's eyebrows quirked. 'Impressive... ' "Join me in the parlor, won't you?" She turned and stalked away in a cloud of flowing nightclothes. 'I'm still alive... ' Ted followed. Charlotte waved Ted into a seat, then reclined regally on the couch. "So, what is the nature of this 'partnership'?" "Claudette has lost her boyfriend -- basically the most popular guy in school. He replaced her pretty easily, which made her a laughingstock. She decided -- and I agree with her -- that I was the only suitable replacement." "Hmmmm, yes. Robbie wised up, didn't he?" "Yeah." Ted nodded. "Some time before he actually made the move. It took him a while to figure out what he DID want." He sighed. "He did pretty well -- I don't know if even I can help Claudette get back on top..." Charlotte looked mildly amused. "What did my daughter offer you?" "Squat." Ted said flatly. "The 'boon of her company' in public, mostly. And she lied about whether she intended for the relationship to be long-term and whether there would even BE a private facet to the relationship." Remembering brought an echo of his predatory anger. "I see," Charlotte replied. "Since you've already indicated that you knew that she wasn't making an offer in good faith, were you?" She smiled grimly. "You may speak freely." "Huh! No!" Ted grunted. "I decided to teach her to pick her opponents carefully if she planned to use them out of the gate! I led her on for a while, then made demands -- and when she got stupid, I got rough with her!" Charlotte rolled her eyes. "I did my best, but there wasn't much to work with. She's SUCH a little fool! Too much of her father in her..." She waved to take in their surroundings. "Her father... Old money. Old boy network. Old school. Unfortunately, he also had old ideas, old plans -- but little intelligence and not a spark of imagination! He had one thing going for him when I met him -- well, maybe two, when you count the money. He still has both, thanks to me, and I get to do everything else..." In an apparent non-sequitur, she observed, "And yet the little twit wasn't wailing and gnashing her teeth over the indecencies you inflicted upon her -- and didn't you two kiss on the porch?" Ted shrugged, smiling. "We were in the middle of making it a night she'd long remember when she surprised me, out of nowhere. After that, I decided that maybe she DID have something to offer, after all -- something I could actually take control of -- so I decided to hold out for the long haul." Charlotte's face became unreadable. "And what offering did she end up tendering that changed your mind?" Ted smiled tightly. "She gives a helluva blowjob..." 'He isn't that smart after all, ' Charlotte mused to herself. 'I should be able to get rid of him then, and maybe salvage things.' But Ted read the flicker in her expression and realized that he was flunking a test. Time to recover... "So, does Claudette react to any guy's pheromones by turning into a slut, or is there a limited audience?" Charlotte froze. The little sneak DID know! HE'D been testing HER! She relaxed again, deliberately, and locked eyes with the eighteen year old. "If things run true to form, probably about one male in twelve can roll right over her defenses -- IF he can get close enough to deliver the product." She eyed him for a moment, pensively. "I don't suppose you come from good stock?" "If you're asking whether my family is wealthy or not, the answer is no," Ted replied. "I'm going to have to fix that." Upstairs, Claudette was cleaning up and dressing for bed; knowing Mom, she'd let her stew until the morning before delivering whatever godawful punishment she decided to mete out. A lot was going to depend upon what information Mom got from Ted -- and she was probably peeling him like an onion... She shuddered; well, he'd get what he deserved... But what DID he deserve? Okay, he'd slapped her around some -- but he was right, she'd been slapped before -- although how HE knew that was an open question! He'd embarrassed her and gotten her naked and tied her up -- and generally rode herd on her. But on the other hand, he had been right about a number of things -- mistakes she had made in manipulating Rob, for instance. Probably one of her first mistakes there was not bothering to realize that she WAS manipulating Rob, and really had no long-term plans for him... She remembered everything she had done while under his sway, too, and realized that he must have understood very early what was happening. She remembered sticking her nose in his crotch and suddenly having NOTHING matter as much as getting more of that enticing aura and scratching the itch between her legs -- an itch that Ted had used magic fingers to scratch, by the way -- something he really didn't HAVE to do... Little Beast was gone -- or maybe just merged back into her personality; in any case, now there was nothing separating and pointing up 'inappropriate' urges as opposed to more normal, everyday thoughts. As a result, Claudette didn't really give the negative aspects of slipping her hand into her frilly nightie bottoms much thought -- it happened more or less naturally as a result of thinking about Ted's magic touch and the explosive sensations it gave her. It took no time at all to discover that HER fingers could light up her cookie, too! They felt good, but Claudette realized almost immediately that concentrating on the mechanics of the operation made the whole thing a little disgusting and masked the pleasure. Fortunately, Ted had given her a smorgasbord of experiences... The taste and texture of his cock, the amazing, exciting feel of it becoming rock-hard, swelling, and blasting his tasty juice in her mouth... The feel of his hand on her breast, kneading, toying with her nipple, (her hand moved to recreate the remembered sensations without thought). How had she managed NOT to realize that the occasional itchy tingles she got in her breasts and her cookie and a couple of other places were the tip of an iceberg of sensation? And kissing -- deep, tongue-filled French kissing -- what an amazing thing, especially when it was accompanied by touches here and there in other places? Claudette remembered Ted's lips, his tongue invading her mouth to do battle with hers while his hands worked on her other soft spots, tweaking and rubbing and... Oh! Oh!! OHH!!! Lightning flashed and thunder rolled; Claudette whited out to the tune of her first self-induced orgasm. Guilt arrived with the aftermath; if Mom really COULD tell that she'd been touching herself, she was done for; maybe the whole Ted thing would mask it for a few days, though. Claudette had NO IDEA what Mom would do when she discovered the fact -- but Mom had always promised dire consequences... All this didn't keep her from teasing her little nubbin to extend the lovely feelings it had given her, either, even as she attempted to envision her mother's awful response to the infraction -- it was just too good... Conversation had come to a halt downstairs with Ted's most recent remark; Charlotte was busy jumping to conclusions... Ted detected it. "Sorry -- that was a general comment. I'm not looking to, ummm, trade on this..." "What DO you intend to do with our dirty little family secret?" Charlotte asked sharply. "I really hadn't gotten much beyond domesticating Claudette," Ted replied. "Domesticating?" Ted shrugged. "Once you get past the Ice Princess thing, she kind of grows on you. I was having fun even before the pheromone thing surfaced -- I just didn't see any future in it, the way things were going. We made a lot of ground tonight..." "And if I disapprove..." "That will make things difficult..." Ted's body language said the he wasn't going to back down without a fight. 'Impressive little bastard', Charlotte thought. It might be a whole lot better to dump responsibility on him for the family's continued well- being than to expect Claudette to do a better job -- either in managing things herself or in selecting a mate... Actually she HAD picked him, hadn't she? "Let's get to the particulars. What indignities DID you impose on my daughter?" Ted frowned. "I'm not sure what kind of idiot telling you would make me, but I probably ought to avoid that." Charlotte smiled. "I don't know if you're aware of this, but you've been in this room a good ten minutes longer than I expected you to. Believe me, I've had my hands full with that silly little cow, and she'd certainly benefit from having someone keeping an eye on her who had both a brain AND a spinal column! I put up with Robbie because he was a fine choice from a social standpoint -- but Claudette's unconscious assumption that he wasn't going to be around for the long run probably came from me. YOU, on the other hand, have been consistently impressive, thus far -- but I DO need to know just how far you'll go, one way or another. Consider that you have a general amnesty..." Ted gave her a hard stare in return. "I DO have, um, certain items of insurance..." Charlotte produced a predatory smile, "See? Come on -- you KNOW you want to!" "Good reason NOT to!" Ted grunted. "Okay, one final question, first. You called Claudette's odd behavior 'our dirty little family secret'. Is this, um, oddity genetic? Does it extend to you?" Ted knew the answer before Charlotte uttered it; she was unable to school her expression. 'DAMN, he's sharp!' "Let's just say that I won't be allowing you to stand over me any too closely. And that my husband, who benefits from the situation also, wouldn't take too kindly to such an action. It's one of the very few areas where he knows EXACTLY which side his bread is buttered on..." Ted shrugged. A weapon was a weapon was a weapon... "Okay. Let's see. I hauled her out to the bushes so we could have some peace and quiet, read her chapter and verse on how she fucked up with Robbie, and started beating on her defenses, warning her that she couldn't do to me what she did to him in public OR in private. Mostly, it was just to soften her up and make things easier later, since there was NO WAY I was going to get sucked in to a no-win situation! When she got balky -- which took longer than I thought it would, even though I was playing with her pretty gently -- I dumped her on her face and tied her hands behind her back. She ranted and raved a while about how awful I was, and threatened to scream -- so I made sure she did, and that she realized that it wasn't going to help her. Somewhere in the process I discovered that she'd been slapped around before and knew how to deal with it -- which made things easier..." He delivered a significant look to his victim's mother before continuing, "I made her shuck out of her skirt, panties, and pantyhose, then hauled off the rest of her stuff, basically holding out the carrot that if she was a good girl maybe shit wouldn't roll too far downhill -- not that I expected much. I gave her this lecture about how she needed to be cool about blowjobs, because they were something she could offer me for my help with her little social problem, but, frankly, I expected to throat-fuck her while she screamed bloody murder or some such. Imagine my surprise..." Charlotte smiled grimly. "I don't have to -- I've seen it first- hand a couple of times... I wasn't lucky that way; I didn't know in advance that it was going to happen and I had no one looking out for me. I got kicked out of my house, and I changed colleges three times before I got some control over things..." She shook her head. "So, suddenly she was all about delivering a great blow job?" "Yeah," Ted nodded, "with all the trimmings. Right away, I noticed that the numbers didn't add -- but it gave me a handle on her, so I backed off. Besides, she was giving me a REALLY good blow job!" He shook his head, remembering. "She starts begging me to free her hands so she could do a better job -- and I'm thinking 'Yeah, right -- this is where she does a Bobbitt on me and runs!' -- but she offered to take the rope around her neck, and it has a quick-release. So I demonstrate to her that fucking up is serious shit and let her have what she wants -- and she doesn't seem to care about anything but putting her nose in my pubes! By the time we were done, she'd graduated to deep throat!" He mused a moment. "The Ice Princess sucking me dry and smacking her lips -- THAT was a picture..." He gathered himself. "Anyway, I backed her off and we started cleaning up -- and it became obvious that whatever she was high on was wearing off, so I tried an experiment -- pulling her into my lap to calm her down. Worked like a charm, so I decided, 'Hey, what the fuck', and diddled her and got her off..." Charlotte, who had been fine until then, grimaced. "Damn!" "What?" "I've been deliberately shielding her from Sex 101; when I discovered that I could rub myself off at a little younger than she is, I had one hand in my panties thirty-six hours a day! Only one thing kept me from doing myself; you can probably guess what THAT was!" "Um, something better?" "Oh, yeah." Charlotte rolled her eyes. "And since I was already pistol-hot, it didn't have to smell right, either! THAT'S what got me kicked out of the house!" "Oops!" Ted grimaced an apology. "You weren't to know," Charlotte sighed. "It's going to take both of us to keep the silly cow from ruining her reputation!" "Both of us?" Charlotte nodded, smiling grimly. "I have to give her credit -- the silly goose went about it wrong, but I think she picked the right boy! You appear to have a number of... valuable qualities... that I probably would not have been able to select for by merely looking for popularity and income." She eyed him. "Unless you've had your jollies and you're not interested in herding the silly cow..." Ted shrugged. "Like I said, she grows on you." "One other thing -- you're, uh, 'adequate'?" Charlotte asked delicately, one eyebrow arched. Ted grinned like a shark. "So I'm told. I'd show you, but you might misinterpret it as a threat..." "Wise," Charlotte agreed. "Could you ballpark the length?" Ted measured out an approximation of his more than adequate length between his hands, "Like so?" "Good." Charlotte nodded, pleased. "One thing we can do is introduce her to the real thing before she becomes too reliant upon her fingers. Better that she daydreams about phallic objects than having her sit around all day with her hands in her panties!" She sighed. "The 'saving myself for marriage' thing was merely a preventative measure; now that Pandora's Box is open, we may as well fill it. I assume you're up to fucking her?" Ted goggled. "Yes!" "You realize that this makes you responsible for her sorry ass..." Charlotte admonished. Ted nodded. "She's on the Pill -- it helps... attenuate things... Upstairs, second door on the right." She rose. "Now I have to brief her father..." Ted nodded again; it wasn't his problem. No doubt the whole thing had been war-gamed extensively. He turned and bolted for the stairs. Charlotte watched him out of sight, sighed and swept out, headed for her bedroom. She'd have to awaken Hubert, and he'd be grumpy even before he knew why -- but he would mellow, and she'd have had to awaken him, anyway; she was horny... ------- Claudette was idly running her fingers through her pubic thatch, wondering if she dared play with her nubbin again. It was SOOOO relaxing... Well, afterward, anyway -- during, she got pretty tense. Those musings came to an abrupt end when a voice rasped, "Get your hands out of there!" from the doorway. Claudette jumped a foot, then jumped again upon seeing the owner of the voice! "Ted! Have you killed my mother?" It was literally the only way she could fathom having him darken her bedroom door... "Nooo..." Ted drawled. "Actually, we kind of hit it off. She went to bed, I think." "Ted, you're NOT supposed to BE here!" "Oh, but I am!" Ted looked smug. "No way!" "Way!" Eyeing Ted fearfully, Claudette reached for her cell phone -- but he just stood there. "Who are you calling?" "Mom." "Cool. Nine one one would be embarrassing." The phone rang five times before her mother picked up. "Mom, are you all right?" "I'm fine, Princess. Why?" "Well, Ted's in my room..." "Yeah. I'm proud of you, Princess -- I think maybe you brought home the bacon with this one!" "I-- What?" "Well, you picked him out, didn't you?" "Well, yeah..." "I can see why you did -- he's pretty good in social situations." "Well, okay -- but he's HERE in my BEDROOM!" "Oh, that. Well, you've advanced a good distance tonight in some directions. Ted and I are agreed that you're going to require assistance and support in order to avoid the kinds of problems that I had at your age -- and he's uniquely qualified to deliver it..." Claudette sat there, getting more and more flustered. "I don't understand!" "Princess, a lot of the things I've done in the past were for your protection, as mean as they seemed to be -- but tonight you moved beyond my ability to continue to protect you properly." "But..." "You were forced? You were, and you weren't, Princess -- I'm sure you realize that. Right now, you're extremely vulnerable." There was a pause. "You've touched yourself already, haven't you?" 'Damn.' "Yes, Mom." "That continues to be a no-no -- for your own good, I assure you! But it'll be tough, without proper support -- and Ted is there to provide it." "How? Is he supposed to beat me when I do it?" There was a laugh on the other end of the line. "Well, that might be necessary -- and at this point, I trust him to make the correct decisions -- and execute them, for that matter! But that's not what we're up to, here. Surely you realize that fingers are a substitute?" "Well, yeah..." Claudette rolled her eyes. "Well, then. Ted will be providing your initiation to the real thing." "He WHAT? What about saving... ?" "Princess, surely you realize by now that that isn't going to happen! That was a technique that I was using to keep you headed in the right direction and forestall the inevitable -- but you're beyond that now, and we must take other measures." Claudette was nonplussed. "What do you want me to do?" "I want you to have sex with Ted," came the amazing reply. "I want you to enjoy yourself -- as many times as you like! I think you'll find that Ted will be amenable to your direction in social situations -- and he'll probably mellow, somewhat, anyway -- AND he will help you keep your private cravings under control and private!" "I... I STILL don't understand!" Claudette wailed, frustrated. Charlotte sighed. "I know, Princess. Let's talk about it at breakfast. For now, put the strategic piece away and put yourself in Ted's hands. Okay?" "Okay." Claudette hesitated. "I'm nervous." "Lay with your head on Ted's lap for a bit." "Mom! You don't... You DO!" 'Omigawd, she knows about his smell!' "Yes, Princess. What do you think I've been up to? Run along now -- I really need to pay some attention to your father..." Charlotte's voice developed a distinct strain. "Yes, Mom." Claudette folded the phone, bemused. "All better?" Ted asked perfunctorily. "I guess. What are we going to do?" "I think you know. Do I need to be graphic?" Ted replied. "Earlier this evening, when things weren't going well, I'd have probably made it sound awful, just to keep you terrorized -- but at this point, that's not what we're up to." He settled on the bed beside her. "How about this? I'm going to show you real sex, so you accept no substitutes." "I'm a little freaked right now," Claudette admitted. "Mom suggested that I lay in your lap for a bit." Ted frowned. "I'd like to minimize that." "Why? It works for you..." "Because it papers over what you're really feeling. We're looking at the long haul, here -- if you can't stand me, well, that's gonna suck. I'd rather not tie us up like that." "That didn't seem to be a problem, earlier..." 'Gee, he's sounding all soft, or something... ' "Well, it works -- and it gave us a shot, despite the way things were going. But the further downstream I follow this, the more I think that you really need to have feelings for me that don't come from how I smell to you..." Ted rubbed his temples. "Where are we on that?" "Well..." Claudette thought about it. "You can be a real piece of work..." Ted shrugged, nodded. "That may come in handy, actually." Claudette eyed him dubiously for a moment, then moved on to other things, "Why did you, uh, masturbate me?" "I felt like you deserved it. You'd gone out of your way and been real good. I felt kind of... obligated." "Obligated?" "Well, now that I think about it, that's going too far. I just felt like giving you something back." Claudette pondered this. "So what do you think of me?" Ted grimaced. "Well, things have changed. Before tonight, I only knew what I'd have to call the 'old' Claudette, okay? The old Claudette wasn't any too impressive, from my point of view. The old Claudette approached me earlier this evening with some vague plan for me to become her boyfriend so she could one-up Rob and Mary. I took the old Claudette out to the boonies to give her what she deserved, basically, for being a manipulative bitch. You follow so far?" "Yeah." Claudette looked distinctly unhappy. "Once we got out there, though, I started seeing a different Claudette. You were listening to me and paying attention and trying things. I still didn't really have any hope of getting what I wanted out of the deal, but I started looking at a back-out plan -- and the more you hung in there, the more serious about it I got. Of course eventually I pushed you too far -- which was part of the original plan, I admit -- but I was still pushing for you to be cool about stuff, in the hopes that I'd find some way to pull it out. Remember that long lecture I gave you before the blowjob? That was going to pretty much make or break things, I figured. Earlier in the evening, I wouldn't have bothered; I'd have just stuck my dick down your throat and slapped the shit out of you any time you gave me any trouble. But by then I was thinking that if I could just find some handle on you, I could go ahead and try to make the deal..." Ted shook his head, remembering. "Then you delivered -- MAN, did you deliver! I pretty much figured something was weird when you first started sniffing around my crotch, but the thing was, I was seeing a whole different Claudette! I mean, sure, I got the blowjob of my life -- but I also got a look at how you really were, inside the wall, you know? That's REALLY why I kind of turned it around..." Claudette smiled crookedly. "So, I'm supposed to like you because you stopped slapping me around and didn't rape me and leave me stranded in the middle of nowhere?" Ted scratched his head. "Well, I might have tried to spin it a little differently, but I guess that's it..." Claudette shook her head. "Weirdly, I get that, sort of." She snickered. "Maybe you'd better let me lay in your lap..." Ted rolled his eyes, "Oh, shut up and kiss me!" Claudette let it happen; she let him pull her to him and accepted his lips, then opened her mouth when his tongue demanded it. She let herself enjoy it, too, and was a little breathless with arousal when they broke the kiss. That, more than anything else, told her that the pair of them would be okay. It was gut instinct more than anything else, but she felt that she could go with that. Besides, Mom liked him -- how weird was THAT? Sighing, she murmured, "I guess we should get undressed again..." Ted took this for the acceptance it was and hugged her to him. Claudette mused, "And I do still want a smell -- just a little one, to help with the hard parts. Do you think it's just a crotch thing, or it's other places, too?" Ted shrugged. "Who knows? Where else is good -- pits?" He sniffed himself, then offered her an armpit for testing -- and was mildly amazed when she leaned in and sniffed. "Kind of rank," she observed, smiling, then paused to analyze things. "Ummm, I'm not horny..." ... But she was still leaning against him, Ted noticed. "Feeling better, though?" "Ummm, a little calmer, I guess." She lay quietly against his shoulder for a moment. "You have a reputation. Everybody says you're rough... You were rough with me, some, too..." "That was different." Ted's voice was gruff. "Different, how?" Claudette felt like she was walking on eggshells, but something was keeping her calm and granting her the ability to ask these questions... Ted sensed that Claudette was getting something from proximity to his armpits, after all. "I was taking something, then. Now I'm giving something. Was I rough when I got you off?" "No." "I was giving something then, too." Claudette absorbed this. "Okay." "I'm gonna pull off my shirt. Why don't you come out of those -- what are they, anyway?" Ted pointed at the ruffled panties that went with Claudette's baby-doll nightie. "Panties, Silly. Well, maybe bloomers." She leaned up so that Ted could whip off his shirt. "What about the nightie?" "Probably a good idea," Ted agreed. He stood up. "Here, let me help with the bottoms." Claudette eyed him a moment, shrugged, lay back on the bed and lifted her hips. Ted had been wondering how he could get Claudette going without fingering her or letting her whiff him again. Her mother had been pretty clear about the fact that she wanted masturbation de-emphasized... Leaning in to pull off the bottoms, he murmured, "I bet you smell good, too..." Claudette said, "What?" But a light had flashed in Ted's brain, and he was going to run with it! Ted finished removing Claudette's bloomers, then dropped to his knees beside the bed and slid his hands under her hips. "I SAID, I bet YOU smell good, too!" he replied, hauling her forward. "Ted, I..." Claudette started to struggle -- but then Ted's breath washed across her cookie. She froze. 'Omigawd, he's going to eat it!' It was too late to close her legs -- Ted's shoulders were wedged between her knees. "Relax," Ted murmured, "You're gonna LOVE this!" And with that, he lowered his tongue to Claudette's box. "Ooooooohhhhhh!" 'And I thought fingers were good!' Claudette's head swam. Ted's lips settled over her bump and his tongue flicked along the bottom of it and into the crack of her cookie, and Claudette forgot to worry about Ted's possible behavior -- THIS would make up for just about ANYTHING! She didn't think about crossing her legs on his back or burying both hands in his hair -- she was too busy concentrating on that magic tongue and the INCREDIBLE things it was doing to her cookie! "Oh, Ted! Oh, God! Ohhh! Oh, yes! Oh, God! Yes! YES! YYYEEEESSSSSS!!!" In no time, Claudette arched herself into Ted's questing mouth, screaming as an orgasm ripped through her, one that made previous experience pale by comparison, causing her to clench and jerk and grunt and gasp while clutching that magic mouth to her suddenly juicy cookie! She bucked and rolled for a good thirty seconds before the shock waves settled back and she could collapse. "Omigod!! That was..." Ted raised a wet grinning face, "That was just the appetizer!" Claudette's eyes popped. "Surely not!" Ted nodded, grinning. "Wait until we get to the real thing!" "Let me catch my breath!" Claudette gasped. She levered herself up and started pulling off the nightie. "Are you staying the night?" Gone were long-term concerns; Ted -- the here and now Ted -- didn't inspire fear in her. Whatever had gone before, the things that he'd done to others -- the Ted she had with her here in her bed hadn't done them. That other Ted might show up again -- and he might not -- but she would cross that bridge when she got to it. "Yeah, it looks like it." Hell, it was already two or three in the morning... Ted kicked off his shoes and started working his way out of his pants. Claudette scooted up to help -- which put her basically nose to crotch with Ted as she worked with Ted to get his pants and his underwear down his legs. Ted's cock surfaced -- already stiff and hard -- and Claudette's cookie, already wet and drooling, got seriously itchy again! "Awright, you've had your nose full," Ted chastised, but Claudette leaned forward and took the mushroom head of his penis between her lips, anyway. Ted hissed in pleasure, but gently pushed on her shoulders, disengaging her. "This load isn't going down your throat, Hon -- this one's going where it belongs!" Then a thought occurred to him, "What about rubbers?" "I'm on the Pill," Claudette replied huskily, "to keep me from cramping during my monthlies." She reached out and slid her fingers up and down the hot shaft before her, more or less mesmerized. She'd already been aroused; the wash of his pheromones was a multiplier. 'Monthlies' Ted grunted to himself. 'Talk about sheltered. Can't even say period... ' It didn't take much in the way of a mental leap to realize that her mother had probably used that as an excuse to put Claudette on the Pill as insurance -- in case she discovered sex on her own and managed to keep it a secret. Actually, now that he thought about it, she'd said Claudette was protected... "Lay back and open up -- it's time we put the parts together properly!" Claudette did as she was told, her face a study in happy anticipation -- even instinctively grabbing her knees! Ted stopped dead for a moment to admire the picture -- which was a porn magazine fantasy come true! There she was -- blonde, busty, and beautiful, spread in invitation, with the mother of all 'fuck me!' looks on her face! And him without a camera... While he climbed onto the bed, he remembered the other incredible piece -- she was cherry, too! Already, given the waves of lust she was throwing off, you could forget the fact that she was inexperienced -- but it was Ted's job tonight to NOT forget; it was Ted's job to make sure she looked forward to the NEXT fuck as much as she was looking forward to THIS one! Ted got his head on straight and knelt up, not trying to insert himself yet, but sliding his pipe along her slit. Kneading her sweet, rounded breasts, he murmured, "Okay, Hon, we're gonna do the cherry-picking thing now. It's probably gonna hurt for a little bit, but it'll get better quick -- okay?" "Okay," Claudette gasped. Did he have ANY idea what sliding his penis along her cookie felt like? The thing felt like silk sliding along her love bump, pushing her lips open so it could come right into contact with the most sensitive part... She was shaking, and it had NOTHING to do with fear! It seemed to Ted that Claudette's twat sprang open; one second her little clam was closed up tight, and the next he was running along the pink channel between her thick outer lips. He sawed his cock back and forth along it a couple more times and looked up, "Ready?" "Uh huh!" Claudette could barely get the acknowledgement out; excitement had her breathless. If this was as good as advertised -- and she KNEW it was going to be... Ted reoriented, pressed his glans against her tiny opening, and began to apply pressure. Not much happened -- except that Claudette's face started reflecting dismay and discomfort. Okay, wrong tactic -- so how was HE to know? This was HIS first cherry, too! All of his other 'conquests' had been already used sluts of one stripe or another... "Sorry," he muttered, easing up and making sure of his point of aim. "We're gonna try a different technique..." Nerving himself, he swayed his back to give himself the necessary power and snapped his hips. "Auugh!" Claudette wailed. Ted was surprised; he'd done the job, but only barely! His glans was wedged in the opening and a warm wetness was leaking past the shaft -- something he didn't have to look at to know that it was blood... Claudette was wearing a look of mixed violation and betrayal; Ted held still and caressed her cheek. "I know. I'm sorry, but you had the real thing, there, and it was tough. It'll get better in a minute. I bet you don't even use tampons..." "No..." Claudette looked puzzled, and Ted detected another dimension to her mother's efforts to keep Claudette from blooming too early. There seemed to be no end to them -- plans within plans within plans -- Charlotte must have been a real slut in her day... Ted held himself in place and worked on rubbing Claudette's stiff nipples to keep her stimulated while her surprisingly tiny twat adapted to its intruder. The effort was a good choice; Claudette maintained her level of arousal and the tweaking triggered an ongoing flow of dampness and relaxation. In only ten or fifteen seconds, Claudette was wriggling experimentally, wincing but obviously getting something out of it. "Ready for more?" Ted asked. "Uh huh," Claudette replied. "Is it all going to fit?" "Yes, Honey -- remember, babies come out of there..." Ted forced a chuckle. "Yours is just unused. Next time, it won't hurt and we can go straight to the fun part." "Okay." Claudette felt full NOW -- but Ted was right, obviously. And as for the fun part, well, she was already getting hints... Ted backed a bit before pressing forward, which surprised her -- but then, she didn't have Ted's experience with a lack of lubrication, garnered from a couple of run-ins with sluts who got nervous and changed their minds at the last minute and had to be brought into line to ensure that they followed through. Okay, maybe that wasn't EXACTLY how it had gone -- but it certainly hadn't gone like this... He took his time, savoring the incredibly hot, wet tightness of her channel and not forcing things, amazed at his patience. Maybe it was the fact that Claudette wasn't thrashing around and wailing for him to stop after giving him the come-on... No, Claudette had her eyes locked on his and her lower lip caught between her teeth -- and was obviously living in her twat as much as he was living in his dick! They developed a pattern; he would back a bit and she would lift her hips -- then he would sink it until there was a certain amount of resistance, stop, and she would lower herself and they both would relax while she flowered open some more. Six or eight repetitions later, their pubic bones came into contact and Ted announced, "See, I told you. Ready?" Claudette was certain that Ted's penis was all the way to her chest, but nothing had gotten in the way and she KNEW there was a cervix in there, somewhere... "What now?" "Now I start moving." Ted did so -- not anything resembling long strokes, just short back and forth movements in her tight tunnel. "Oooohhhh!" Claudette's eyes closed, but her lips curled up. "Is that how it's done?" Ted felt just wonderful rubbing back and forth inside her, and he kept bumping her sensitive cookie bump with his bony pubic mound. It was... mmmmmmm... hard to think, even to come up with a description... "Well, it's a start. Wait until I can really get going..." Man! Talk about tight! Ted was gritting his teeth; he'd have blown a nut by now if she hadn't drained him earlier. As it was, he'd almost completely recovered -- and maintaining until Claudette got her nut was gonna be Hell... ... Well, maybe not, after all. The whites of Claudette's eyes were showing all around the irises and her mouth was open, but nothing was coming out -- and she appeared to be panting through her nose... "Honey?" "AAAAIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!" Claudette's eyes rolled up, her head went back, her back arched -- but her legs wrapped around Ted's thighs, making sure he didn't go anywhere too far! The dance she did on his dick for the next twenty seconds exceeded anything he had done thus far -- but was so erratic that he managed to maintain control through it; it seemed like he was in a different place in her twat every time she took a bounce! Hell, he wasn't driving -- he was just hanging on while she tore things up from below! Finally, she dropped back and surrendered control, babbling, "Omigodhogodohgodomigodohgod..." Obviously, this had been a signal event for her... First, there had been fingering. New horizons had opened for Claudette when Ted did magical things in her crotch with his. Then tongues had come along, and it had been better by an order of magnitude -- and hard to imagine anything that might be any better. Ted's penis hadn't been encouraging at the start -- and Claudette was still getting twinges -- but they just blended into the smorgasbord that his movement in her brought and BANG! Suddenly she couldn't control her hips and wave after wave was crashing over her; her body was on automatic, throwing itself at her lover and it WOULD NOT STOP!!! Finally, she collapsed back onto the bed -- but Ted started moving again, and his very first stroke (a longer one than he had been using before the uproar) told her that it would all happen again, very soon... "How are you feeling?" he asked. "Oh, I want to do this FOREVER!" 'Oh, holy shit!' "Really?" An answer wasn't required; the beatific look on her face told it all! 'I've created a monster!' Already, she was throwing herself back at him in a manner that reminded him of his recent run-in with Darla Jean -- who had to have been his hottest conquest to date, until now... The way she was moving, rough wasn't going to be an issue -- avoiding painful might be, though... The next forty-five minutes were a revelation; Ted COULD fuck that long with Claudette, because she did half the work -- and she was all over the place half of the time! About the time he thought he was on the fast track to getting a nut, Claudette would go completely wild and rhythm and stroke went out the window, and took his nut with it. Finally, almost raw, he managed to ride her home -- largely because she was as exhausted as he was -- and such was his level of stimulation that when he finally went off, the geyser soaked the sheets as it foamed out of her around his pulsing cock. Ted totally whited out; the cum was like nothing he'd ever experienced before -- but when he came back to himself his dick was so sore he was sure it was blistered. "Jesus, Honey, you're gonna kill us both!" "Um hummm..." Claudette mumbled, clearly somewhere else... She couldn't move -- but then, she didn't want to! Such bliss... Ted rolled off of her and crashed flat on his back; Claudette's immediate response was to roll over, throwing one arm and one leg over him, put her head on his shoulder, and to begin to snore. Ted was exhausted, but sleep didn't arrive immediately. Being wrapped up in a female (literally) was part of it; he'd never shared a bed. But his brain was racing -- was this Heaven or Hell? It apparently depended solely upon his attitude; sure she was a challenge far beyond anything he had ever encountered -- but the rewards... Back and forth... Finally, post-coital bladder urgency demanded that he gently slide out of her grasp and he staggered off to pee. When he returned, it was to stand over a beautiful, golden-haired angel. Before that evening, she'd been 'that bitch'. Of COURSE she was beautiful, she was the queen of local society -- a blonde Barbie doll with an uppity attitude that needed taking down a peg. But she always managed to dress as if she was a display piece in a chastity belt -- nice cleavage, but heavily padded bras so you couldn't see her nips, short skirts, but serious pantyhose... She was something right out of a toothpaste commercial -- little Miss America, unsexy because she was untouchable. The girl on the bed, however, was a beautiful collection of sweet, naked curves caught in the innocence of sleep. And not only was she touchable, he'd done THE single most intimate act anyone would ever do with her! If her mother was to be believed, she was going to be exceedingly high maintenance from a sexual standpoint -- and she'd probably get out from under his thumb at some point and put horns on him. But for now, this was his girl -- no, this was his WOMAN! -- and he would stay in the saddle for as long as he could... He slid back into bed, and Claudette cuddled up, spreading golden hair over his shoulder and pushing a pair of soft, round breasts into his side. Ted drifted off to sleep, smiling -- satisfied with his lot in life for what may have been the first time ever. ------- Chapter 55: Various Consummations Caitlin McGrath had her knees up around her ears, pressed there by Howard Silverman's hands while he leaned on them to support himself as he jackhammered her twat. Her breasts wobbled like jello, but fortunately they weren't big enough to damage anything, so she just let 'em go, rubbing Howard's upper arms while he made like the Energizer Bunny! Howard was wishing he could get his lips on the pinkish brown, thick nubs that stuck bullet-like up from the center of Caitlin's wrinkled areolas, but they were out of reach. Her pussy wasn't though, and he was in it, driving deep -- and the responses he was getting from Caitlin said that she was VERY happy about it! "O, BABY! OGOD! YEAH! GET IT! TAKE IT!" Caitlin wailed in accompaniment to pelvic lurches that somehow managed to increase the force of the impacts that Howard was already delivering. Howard was amazed at Caitlin's total lack of inhibition; once she got going, she just couldn't contain herself, apparently. But it was hot -- incredibly exciting -- and it matched her personality perfectly; Howard had no fears that she was faking her responses. Caitlin hadn't had a dick like this in over five years -- and THEN it had been a one-nighter with a young kid too horny to pass up a run-in with an 'old woman'! Howard was hammering her like an eighteen year old, and while she KNEW she was making a fool of herself, she had no control over her mouth -- or her feelings! Howard was hitting her cervix, for Christ's sake -- and her clit, too! And he just kept coming... Caitlin hit overload; her face became a rictus, her eyes wild while she clutched his arms and wailed, "Gimmee! GIMMEE!! GIMMEEEEEEEEE!!!!! AAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!!" In a moment she relaxed and went limp, panting breathlessly, "Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! Oh, Howard!" Howard, wondering if she was done, asked, "Are you okay?" "Uh huh," Caitlin panted. "Gimme a minute... DON'T STOP!" Howard, who had slacked off momentarily, put it back in gear. "Are you okay?" Howard nodded. This was more exercise than he'd had in a while, but he wasn't hurting for it -- and he hadn't cum. If she hadn't drained him earlier, he probably wouldn't have lasted this long, but she had and he was still in the running... "I've got a little bit left..." Erin got her 'babble mode' from her mother -- and Caitlin was plenty stimulated; she had already bottomed out and was climbing the slope again. "Well, I want it! I want ALL of it! I want EVERY DROP!" She was hunching her back, driving her twat up at him again. "If you need something, you let me know! I want you to cum -- BIG -- 'cause I just did, and if you keep that up, I'm gonna do it again!" There's nothing like hearing you're doing a good job; Howard's cum clock jumped from 'eventually' to 'soon' under Caitlin's verbal encouragement. Howard adopted a two-cycle stroke -- alternating a short jab with deep penetrations -- and Caitlin's eyes popped. "Good God, where did THAT come from? Oh, SHIT that's good! O God! Oh! Oh! Oh, wow!" Something about that stroke was just hitting her EVERYWHERE! "Oh, fuck! I'm gonna cum again! Cum! Cum! CUM! OH, FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!" Howard was right with her, dragged along by her excitement and the change in texture of her pussy as it started milking him. He tried to hold out for thirds, but the sensations were exquisite; his whole cock was one big buzzing nerve ending! He gritted his teeth, fighting it, riding the edge -- until every move was a torturous mix of exquisite pleasure and pain -- and Caitlin was literally hanging from him, having hauled herself off the bed by her grip on his shoulders in an effort to get more of him inside her. He backed off one more time, then hurtled forward like a freight train, exploding on impact. "Oh, GAWD!" Howard drove Caitlin into the mattress, and the unmistakable feel of his load being delivered under pressure right at the door to her womb added two stories to the tower of her orgasm, just as she leaped off! "Oh, YESSSSS! Shoot in me! CUM! CUM!!!" Her legs, which Howard had released for his final thrust, wrapped themselves behind his ass, pulling him deep while she clutched him to her and rocked, immersed in pure animal joy. Howard felt as though he was totally wrapped up in her, being carried forward right inside of her -- and he came and came and came, dredging semen from God knew where! It was a wet mess, but Caitlin was beside herself with joy -- and every pulse added a cherry to it! Howard was dazed; you just didn't cum like this with a hooker, and his short list of amateur partners hadn't come close! When he was more or less grounded in reality again, he ventured, "Are you okay?" "Okay doesn't come close!" Caitlin gasped. "Wow! We made a flood!" Only in the aftermath did she realize that in the heat of the moment, they'd forgotten rubbers. Ah, well, that's what the Pill was for... "Yeah..." Howard made to move. "Forget it. There's no real fix, and I don't want to move right now. Can you reach the blankets?" "Yeah." Howard managed to haul them up, bit by bit, without being allowed to escape Caitlin's comforting embrace, then collapsed bonelessly atop her, merging with her, wondering how such a thin woman managed to make him feel cocooned... ------- Charlotte Pinkersley let her mind drift in post-coital relaxation; Hubert was already snoring, but he'd done his job... Charlotte had been lucky finding Hubert; she'd been facing the scenario she'd ladled out to Claudette on that memorable day when the girl was fourteen... Sex had ruined her at home and ruined her at high school. College had been a fresh start, but she was too green and too lusty. When she met Hubert, she was a senior in college, and on her fourth school. Frat parties were a guaranteed source of at least one guy whose smell could make her get naked -- and from there, she tended to take on all comers. She collected a reputation as a party slut by the second semester of her freshman year, which had its positive and negative aspects. Her behavior wasn't something that invited scholarships, and she was on her own -- so she had to work. But there was work and there was work; after running short several times too many on her salary from waiting tables she waded through several bouts of self-justification to end up with the realization that being a party animal was a marketable skill. After that, things got easier; she could count on one frat house or other collection of males a weekend to pass the hat and cough up a thousand or so for her services, and while she couldn't just drop her panties, she had a rule that she got to pick her first partner -- and in any group of over ten or so guys, there was one who could jump-start her. After that, the engine was running, and she tended to last longer than they did. Parties her freshman year paid her expenses for that year and tuition and fees for the new school the next -- a pattern that got her to her senior year with considerable savings that she was eking out slowly to pay expenses while trying to 'go straight'. That was a result of the down side of her activities; a 'party slut' was a great thing for frat boys to have around -- but no one wanted to DATE one! She was shunned by females twenty four hours a day and by males in any social situation; her few friends tended to be other 'party girls' -- usually unfortunates willing to spread their legs to be paid attention to at all -- and with issues to match. While that made her queen of her little group, it was an acknowledged group of losers... Now, a senior at a new school, Charlotte was keeping her nose clean -- and wearing out a sex toy a week. Trying to stay celibate was hard, at the very least -- and she'd underestimated her budget at the expensive school she'd picked out to graduate from. Hooking wasn't something she could get into -- it was one thing to have fun and get paid for it, and another to play Russian roulette looking for the one guy in twelve whose looks didn't matter and pretend for the other eleven that she was having a good time. Oh, she could enjoy herself just having sex, but not while trying to make a buck... Besides, no normal guy stood any chance of keeping her interest! Hubert had come into the club where she was hanging out, desperately hoping to find Mr. Right, (defined as someone who could effectively scratch her itch and optionally provide her with some support), obviously along to be the butt of the jokes the four other smooth Ivy League characters he was with kept pumping out. It was sad... Since she was easily one of the top ten women in the bar for looks, one of the sharks wandered over to collect her as his due, inviting her to join the group after a few minutes of what he chose to believe was sparkling conversation. Charlotte suffered through fifteen agonizingly boring minutes of their self-congratulation before 'accidentally' dropping her lipstick case and diving under the table to collect it. The 'boys' thought this was hilarious, one of them making the inevitable gauche comment -- but Charlotte actually WAS surfing for cock... Imagine her surprise when she surfaced above the table and discovered that the little already balding guy with the eyeglasses eyeing her owlishly could trip her trigger! Charlotte surprised everyone present -- including herself -- by running with the ball and concentrating her attention on the unprepossessing little guy -- which turned out in short order to be a good choice, since he was the most genuine specimen present, when you got right down to it. Four hours later, they were in Hubert's room at the upscale frat house he and his friends occupied. Hubert then delivered his second surprise of the evening; it turned out that, exposed to the smell of wet pussy, Hubert delivered the speed and stamina of a thoroughbred racehorse! He was VERY well-equipped (around eight inches!) and seemed capable of thundering along forever! By the time they finished, it was five in the morning; Hubert had managed three orgasms, and Charlotte had lost count, having been used better by one man than she'd gotten in some gangbangs! In the morning, his native caution surfaced, (he was, after all, wealthy -- and had been approached before on that basis), forcing guarded admissions from Charlotte regarding the odd reasons why she had settled on him the night before. Charlotte was disinclined to be forthcoming, which caused him to be suspicious -- but she was also a babe, and the hottest thing in the sack he'd ever seen... There followed an uneasy period in which they dated periodically and satisfied each other, but couldn't come to trust -- but Hubert slowly put the pieces together, eventually dragging the whole surprising truth from Charlotte after destroying her inhibitions by overdosing her on his emissions. It had taken him four months to put together fluctuations in her behavior and the incidence of blowjobs -- or merely enthusiastic sniffing at his crotch -- but he was still thoroughly amazed at the answer he got: "It was your smell, Sweetheart. I'm built funny; when I smell certain guys, I come unglued..." Charlotte resumed blissfully laving his testicles with her tongue for a moment before continuing artlessly, "That's why I went hunting for my lipstick that night -- I was looking for that smell..." "So you sniffed my crotch?" Hubert asked incredulously. "Yes," Charlotte replied blandly. "Surely by now you've noticed..." Her voice took on a whining note, "Can we puhleez fuck now? I really, really want it..." Two fingers working in her gash kept her licking and talking; Hubert interrogated her for fifteen minutes, and found himself thoroughly satisfied with her truthfulness. But one revelation was truly surprising... "Why do you keep coming back?" he asked. "If others possess this trait, you can do better..." "Uh uh!" Charlotte had argued. "Sweetheart, I've had football teams -- and NOBODY keeps up with me like YOU do!" If Hubert had any doubts about Charlotte's answers that night, the roller-coaster ride he got from her for the next week cleared them out. Charlotte was by turns hurt and disgusted at him over the betrayal, angry and disgusted with herself over letting herself be lulled into dangerous admissions, scared shitless that Hubert would brag to his frat buddies and ruin her, scared that he might use her, fearful that she might lose him. He'd call her and she'd yell at him, then she'd call him and beg... Hubert would have been a fool not to realize that he had a major lever on his babe -- and while he wasn't the quickest horse out of the gate in the intelligence race, he was no fool. Sufficient arm-twisting revealed Charlotte's entire closet full of skeletons -- but it also left Hubert confident that he understood his trophy girlfriend's motives in staying with him. At that point, the whirlpool of marriage slowly sucked them in... NOT without a pre-nup, however! That proved to be an obstacle, in the long run; Charlotte was more worldly, more innovative, and ultimately smarter than Hubert, who had the sense to grant her more and more control of the family interests as time went on. Now, he was mostly a figurehead around the company business, and he liked it that way -- it left plenty of time for golf and hobnobbing with country club pals that netted an occasional nugget his canny wife could turn into additional income. Two years after they were married, there was a birth control slip-up and Claudette was conceived. Charlotte carried her, happily looking forward to motherhood -- but discovered that she was totally inept at it. Children got on her nerves and distracted her from the things she loved -- and were just generally a nuisance. Add the fact that Charlotte had finally wormed out of her mother that her problem went back several generations in various strengths and guises and undoubtedly would be passed to her daughter, and the reasons that Charlotte became adamant that she get her tubes tied, even without producing a male heir, were obvious. Hubert acquiesced; given that having one child made Charlotte act like a troll, he certainly didn't want to add to the load... In general, though, the marriage was rock-solid. Charlotte was generally faithful; occasional slip-ups due to what Hubert referred to as her 'infirmity' were overlooked, as a little outside sex had no effect on their basic relationship. They even 'entertained' periodically, hosting swap parties with a tightly select group of friends and associates of proven discretion. Claudette knew nothing of her parents' sex life -- which is not unusual, if you think about it. A deliberate effort to minimize her exposure to sex was undertaken at an early age, reinforced by training in genteel manners and social conventions from a bygone age, reinforced by various nannies and companions. Charlotte and Hubert's rooms were on the opposite side of the house from Claudette's, and meticulously soundproofed. Entertaining was done in even more secure locations. Tonight, however, much of this activity had come to an end. There would be no protecting Claudette from sex, now; the best they could hope for would be to keep her from ruining her reputation. Fortunately, the rules of behavior drilled into her would stand her in good stead, here. The other issues -- masturbation and a now serious requirement for steady sex -- required closer supervision than Charlotte could possibly supply. Thank God for this Ted! He had already proven to Charlotte that he had the balls to keep Claudette in line; properly supported, he might be able to keep her out of anything major in the way of a scandal. Who knew? Ted had been the up-side of Charlottes briefing to Hubert; they'd been congratulating themselves on getting this far for months, so the collapse of the house of cards was a blow. Once wide-awake and briefed, however, Hubert provided Charlotte with the emotional stability required to calmly discuss her situation with her daughter and move things on to the next level -- then he had fucked both their brains out, leaving them both more relaxed about the whole thing... The morning would bring answers to the most important questions; for now, it was time to get some rest... Charlotte drifted off, smiling. ------- The fucking bed was moving -- AGAIN! Talking, too! Ed struggled toward full consciousness to a soft voice murmuring his name in his ear. His initial inclination to be cranky had the juice drained out of it when a pair of soft lips latched onto his neck. "Jesus! WhattheHell time is it?" "Bout fahve." "An' you're wakin' me up outta a sound sleep -- why?" "Ah gotta git up soon, but Ah wuz hopin'..." "Damn, Woman! You want dick at five in the fuckin' mornin'?" "Well, yah..." "I created a fuckin' monster..." Ed lurched up and rolled off Velma and onto his back. "Now, ya drained the motherfucker 'bout five hours ago, an' I ain't a mornin' person. I dunno..." "Mebbe if Ah... sucked on it?" "Well, maybe..." The bed started moving, prompting Ed to think, 'Goddamn woman is an elephant... ', then a hand swept along his flank and closed on his cock. "Can y'all scoot ovah a bit? Ah gots ta get mah laigs turned aroun'..." "Yah." Ed lurched over. There was more motion, then a big soft thing settled against his side just above his right hip and another just below. 'Titties, ' Ed guessed, just before soft lips enveloped his still limp meat. "Aaaahhhh!" The lips lifted away. "Dat okay, Honey?" "Yah," Ed grunted. "You do that fer a while, an' I'll get stiff, eventually." Shit, he was already growing... "Mmmmph." Bitch had a big soft tongue, too! If this shit wasn't so embarrassing... Ed worked his arm into the crease between Velma's husky mammary and the roll of fat beneath, then wormed it around, questing for the fat nipple he knew to be there. It wasn't THAT hard to find -- and Velma went "Mmmph!" again, when he started working it between his fingers. It took Ed about ninety seconds to get an erection resembling an iron bar. "Awright, I'm up! One a these days, you're gonna finish that an' swallow my stuff, by God! You got real talent!" "Dat's okay, Honey, y'all kin have dat any ol' day -- long as y'all got enough left ovah fo' mah cooze!" Velma replied. "Awright." Here he was, wrestling with a black woman in the pitch dark -- but Velma hated having him see her naked... There were no windows in her rooms and the alarm clock wasn't exactly a beacon. Ed got up. "Settle yourself -- I'll get ya from behind..." More movement in the dimness, while Ed mused to himself, 'I'm gonna get that ass, too!' When she appeared to be settled, he crawled back onto the bed from the foot and went about setting up for some doggy-style. "Hurrgh! Shit, dat's SOOO good!" Velma moaned as he sank into her. "Uuuummmmm, make mah cooze happy!" The tone of her voice was enough, actually. Ed couldn't ever remember fucking a happier bitch. It certainly fluffed the ego to know your efforts were appreciated... He anchored himself, grabbed two handfuls of heavy hip, put the trip-hammer on twice per second, and took off. Velma held still for a little bit, then she started throwing herself back to get that little bit extra. "Ooohhhh, Lawd, Ahm in Heaven!" "Yer noisy enough," Ed puffed, grinning to himself. "Gimmee, gimmee, gimmee, fook, fook, fook!" Velma wailed. "AWWWWWWW, HUUUUUUUUHHHH!!! HUNGH! HUNGH! HUNGH!!!" She locked down and stopped moving on the outside, but her twat made like a wringer! Ed gritted his teeth and plowed on... Ed managed ten minutes of long-stroking and two more sets of happy squeals from Velma before the sap level in his root reached critical, "Awright, ya silly bitch -- don't go nowhere, I'm gonna shoot!" "Ah be heah, Honey! Put it wheah it belongs! Cum in mah cooze!" Velma hollered. Ed took a couple of short strokes to max out the sensation around the base of his cock head, then, guaranteed a nut, he jammed away a half dozen times, buried himself, and started pouring out spunk. It was just fucking great, and that twat-clutching shit Velma did while he shot off made it that much better... 'That twat-clutching shit' was Velma getting another orgasm, purely from the effects of Ed's final effort and the knowledge that she was taking his seed! They say that sex is largely mental -- something that goes double for the female; Velma was doing THE THING that made her happiest in the world -- sucking in her man's seed -- and she was flying high from the effects! It wasn't the hot blast of sensation that came while he was pounding her; this was more like sinking into a warm bath of satisfaction -- different, but every bit as good! "Awright, I hope that's good enough, 'cause that's all I got for now!" Ed wheezed, backing off. "Dat's real fine, Honey!" Velma affirmed, shifting herself off the bed. "Jus' what Ah needed! Y'all lay down now, an' Ah'll bring ya'll some coffee 'bout six. How's dat?" "Make it six-thirty," Ed groaned. Damn woman was gonna kill him -- but at least he'd die in the saddle! He collapsed on the bed with an arm across his eyes -- sooner or later, she'd have to turn on a light to dress... Velma headed off to shower, humming. There was goo running down one leg, but it wouldn't hit her ankle any time soon. She smiled; Ed sure dumped a load! This was a LOT better than playing with herself in the shower! Ed didn't have to deal with anything more disturbing than the light under the bathroom door; Velma had a habit of laying out her uniforms on the counter in the bathroom the night before. His next interruption was warm lips on his neck, "Ah'm goin' now..." "Mmmph." Ed was wasted; intelligent response was beyond him. But a hand came up, listless, and rubbed her neck. Velma left the room, humming to herself. People started straggling into the kitchen of the Wilson mansion at about seven-thirty, to find Velma working smoothly, humming, surrounded by stacks of this and that. Phillippe arrived first, and eyed Velma suspiciously while she efficiently saw to his needs. Boris and Leticia were next; Boris had required Leticia to bathe him again, and then allowed her to dress in her normal uniform -- but he had followed her to her room and sat watching the entire procedure as she readied herself for the day, obviously enjoying the view. Now, as he settled at the kitchen table, he asked, "Where is Ed? We have..." "He's in bed," Velma interrupted. "He was up late." Her eyes twinkled. "And he was up early, too!" Phillippe, who wouldn't fuck Velma with Boris's dick, shook his head, grinning. "Ah'll go git him in a bit," Velma added, driving home the point. Boris wasn't missing anything; he compared Velma and Leticia with his eyes and decided that, skinny or not, the Little One was a closer fit to his requirements -- but to each his own... "Soon, then." "I can pop up and run down to his room..." Phillippe offered. Velma pinned him to his seat with a glare, "He ain't there." Phillippe, unable to contain himself, burst out laughing. Charles, from the doorway, asked, "So, Velma, you gave Ed the day off?" "No, Suh. But lahk Ah said, he was already up dis mornin', early... Ah'll go git him." Velma handed off responsibility for kitchen operations with a glance at Inez, poured a cup of coffee, and headed for the door. Charles stepped back so she could clear the door and eyed her, amused, as she headed off down the hall. "So, you're telling me that Ed is fucking that?" Phillippe wanted to know. Boris shrugged. "It is all -- how you say? -- pink on the inside." Charles nodded. "There is the matter of their relative ages, too. Ed probably has fifteen years on Velma." "Yeah, but she's..." Phillippe held his hands out to his sides and puffed out his cheeks in a parody of Velma's proportions. "... And therefore all the more grateful for an opportunity to be properly serviced, " Armand's voice sounded over the intercom. "I'm afraid that I may have put ideas in Ed's head upon discovering that both of them were somewhat short on sources of gratification." "Sorry, Boss." Phillippe mumbled. "Don't apologize to me," Armand replied. "Have pity for the less fortunate. You are fully capable of luring unsuspecting females into your clutches, I'm told." His voice became more brisk, "Who is running things down there?" "I am, Lord," Inez replied. "Family breakfast at nine o'clock -- I'll have my usual. Lay out places for Sharon and Nora and Nate. Somebody put a call in to the younger generation. And send a tray down to Pete's room." "My lord, Pete doesn't eat breakfast," Inez essayed. "Bianca does," Armand replied. The intercom shut off, but the cameras didn't. Armand got to enjoy the look on Inez's face. ------- Soft lips at his neck -- Ed awoke to chills. "Ed, Honey, time fo' y'all to get up..." "Lemme get another five..." he mumbled. "Ah already did," Velma replied, "it's almos' eight." Ed came fully alert; his internal clock agreed that it was AT LEAST well beyond any six-thirty. "Jeez, why didya do that?" "Y'all needed it," Velma replied breezily. "Dere's coffee on da table -- I gotta get back..." She swept out. Grumbling, Ed climbed into his clothes and set out for his room and a quick shower, slurping his coffee. Twenty minutes later, he made it to the kitchen, drawing another cup of coffee and plopping down at the table. Boris ignored the issue of his late arrival, drawing Ed immediately into a conversation regarding some lattice replacements in the garden, but the minute things were silent, Phillippe set the needle, "So, Ed, you wanna tell us all about your new girlfriend? Chasing pussy wear you out?" Ed glared at Phillippe for a moment. Velma, who was behind Phillippe, had turned around and looked like she could cheerfully murder him; when she picked up Ed's glance, her expression changed to one of anxiety. Ed grimaced, considered a moment, and replied, "CATCHIN' pussy kinda saps your energy a bit, I guess. I notice you're pretty bouncy this mornin'..." Phillippe's mouth flopped open for a moment, then her recovered -- or he thought he did. "Catching THAT couldn't have been any too difficult..." Ed shifted his glance to Velma again; Phillippe was 'WAY too confident, for someone with his back to a 320 pound woman with access to a room full of knives... He grinned into his coffee cup, "I ain't seen any evidence YOU could..." "Why the fuck would I want to fuck a cow? I ain't a vet..." CLOP! Phillippe went sideways out of his seat and onto the floor! "Ah hope y'all get AIDS from onea dem scumbuckets y'all drag in, ya asshole!" Velma screeched. "Ah might be big, but Ah ain't nasty!" "Velma," Ed said quietly, "Y'all think you could make me an omelet? I think maybe Phillippe understands that it ain't polite to talk about a person like they was a dog in their presence, now..." Velma stood a moment over Phillippe, clenching and unclenching her hands, then mumbled, "Yeah. Whatchew want in it, Hon?" "Onion and mushrooms, I guess. And cheese." Ed got up and poured himself more coffee, then stood over Phillippe, ruminating. "Bein' I got ta face the music, I might as well at least hum a note. Fer your fuckin' info, it's prime shit -- an' I DON'T haveta worry about getting' crabs -- or worse -- from it! An' there don' seem ta be any doubt that she treats me better before, durin', and after than some 'a them skanks I seen you drag in!" "Muffler burns, maybe," Charles observed, grinning. He had deliberately not interfered, to date. "What?" Ed looked up, glaring. "You've got a pretty serious hickey, there, on the right side of your neck..." Ed whirled on Velma. "Dammit!" "Ah'm sorry, Hon -- Ah got carried away!" "I'd love to see THAT!" Phillippe observed from his seat on the floor, rubbing the side of his head. Ed shifted his attention back to Phillippe. "You got ANY sense?" Phillippe shrugged. Ed rolled his eyes. "Fuck you, awright? You're just jealous. I don't hafta know algebra to know how many dicks been in MY woman's twat -- can YOU say that? Don't knock it 'til you've tried it." He turned and deliberately made his way back to his seat. Moments later, Velma sidled up with his plate, putting it down before him and whispering, "Ah'm yo' woman?" "Till I say different," Ed grunted. "Don't get all moon-eyed..." "No, a' course not..." Velma replied, and moved off to the sink to do dishes -- and cry a bit... ------- It was seven fifty five at the Hansen home. Dwayne was out the front door, rolling -- it was time to get clear, before the folks started looking around... ... Only it didn't work. "Son?" Dwayne, halfway into his pickup looked up to see his father standing on the porch. "Pop?" "Where you going?" 'Do I lie, or just stretch the truth?' "I'm going to help out a friend." "Girl, huh?" Dwayne frowned. "Huh?" 'How 'd he do that?' "You took too long thinking about it." "Okay." Dwayne admitted it. "So, homework?" This time, his reluctance to lie was Dwayne's undoing. "Biology, huh?" his father asked before he could nerve himself. "Yeah." "Advanced biology?" They were on dangerous ground. "Maybe. Dunno yet." "Anything you want to tell me?" "Why, Pop?" Shit was deep enough; why was Pop fishing for something else? "You've been acting weird, last couple of days. Your sister says there's some buzz about you, your friend Ted, and some girl..." Mark Hansen eyed his son. "Am I gonna be fishing you out of jail?" 'Thanks, Becky!' "No, Pop. I was... invited. The jury's still out on Ted, though -- and he's no friend of mine." "Invited?" Pop quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah." "How old is this girl?" "Old enough." "Were you protected?" "Yeah." The pair eyed one another for a moment. Mark's disapproval was palpable. Finally, he kicked things off again, "This the same girl?" "No. We... didn't hit it off." "Two girls in one week..." "It's unusual." Dwayne didn't want this going in this direction. "This is totally different." "Is this related to the other thing?" "Well, maybe." "Oh? You some kind of gigolo, or something?" Mark grinned. "No!" Dwayne frowned denial. "Just the opposite!" "Doesn't sound like it," his father observed. "Two girls in a week..." "No, this is totally different," Dwayne insisted. "I've already got a lot more invested in this." "So, what's the connection?" "Reputation, if there is one," Dwayne replied. "I, uh, came out of the other thing looking good. Ted didn't, with good reason." "So, this wasn't a performance thing?" "More like how I handled it." "Okay, so what about THIS girl?" "Too early to tell. But it's not about that. Or at least it's not JUST about that." Dwayne paused. "I'm gonna be late." Mark eyed his son for a moment, then nodded. Dwayne got the truck started, backed out of the driveway, and was gone, trying not to look TOO hurried. The door opened and Donna Hansen joined her husband on the porch. "Where's HE going?" "You don't want to know," Mark replied. "Yet." 'The Hell I don't!' Donna thought. Looking back over her shoulder, she yelled, "REBECCA! Come here!" Mark rolled his eyes, sighing. ------- Dwayne parked down the block and walked up; Louise met him at the door in a floor-length quilted housecoat that zipped up the front and could have concealed just about anything -- but the smiling face above it was radiant, the smile wide enough for Dwayne to discover that Louise had really good teeth... "Hi," she husked." "Hi." "I wasn't sure..." "I wasn't, either," Dwayne replied, sparking an expression of dismay in Louise. "My Dad gave me the third degree and I didn't think I was going to escape!" "Is everything okay?" Parental problems were bad, but they weren't what Louise had automatically assumed were the issue when Dwayne indicated that he had almost stood her up; she had assumed that her behavior had given him second thoughts. Alongside that, parental issues were a relief... "For now." Dwayne looked troubled. Louise frowned. "They're gonna get worse?" Dwayne shrugged. "Pop said a couple of things that make me think Mom is gonna mix into it. My sister Becky apparently ran her mouth about Darla Jean..." "Could you get grounded?" "It's certainly possible..." That made this morning all the more important. Louise backed up and stood in the middle of the room, deliberately unzipping the housecoat. When she was done, she shrugged out of the sleeves and let gravity take it from her form, then stepped out of the bulky puddle of cloth, watching Dwayne's face. Dwayne's eyes bugged out! Louise was, well, curvy! The whole package was pretty incredible, all in all; she wasn't model-thin, but he'd known that -- she was athletically built. Field hockey and swimming had given her thick thighs, calves, and ankles -- but they weren't fat, by any means -- you could see the play of the muscles as she shifted nervously from foot to foot. The hips were as wide as they needed to be to take the thighs; above that, Louise narrowed quite a bit, but showed just a bit of a curve to her belly -- something that made Dwayne unaccountably horny to look at, especially when you considered the microscopically thin trail of hair that ran from her bellybutton to the jungle of her pubic thatch! Above that were the globular breasts that Dwayne's hands were thoroughly familiar with, but his eyes couldn't get enough of -- and of course, above that was a beautiful face, now frowning anxiously. "Is something wrong?" Dwayne puffed out a breath. "Not hardly!" Louise dimpled momentarily, then went serious. "This is about as close as I can get... I don't know if I can just ask..." Dwayne shrugged. "It's easy. Just say 'Please make love to me'!" Louise looked solemn. "Please make love to me." Dwayne took a breath. "See, that's out of the way -- but if you change your mind, you have to tell me -- and be clear about it. I'll respect 'no'." "I will," Louise affirmed. "Did you bring them?" "Yeah." Dwayne fished three rubbers out of his jacket pocket. "Are you gonna come over here?" There was a bit of a whine to Louise's voice; obviously, she needed reinforcement and support. Dwayne said nothing, but he moved forward and took her in his arms and kissed the lips she immediately offered. Louise's voice was husky when she drew back, "Let's go to my room, now." Dwayne held one hand while she collected the housecoat with the other and led him deeper into the house. Dwayne ignored his surroundings until they arrived in Louise's bedroom; he was watching the play of her movements -- the tiny jiggle of her sweet, round ass in particular. When she turned, he shifted his attention to his surroundings, more out of embarrassment than anything else. Some items in the room were VERY feminine -- the canopy bed, for instance. Some were very utilitarian. There was a shelf with a couple of trophies on it above the corner, where a field-hockey stick stood against the wall. Now that she had him there, Louise wasn't sure how to proceed. She bit her lip, watching him as he scanned the room. When his eyes came back to her, she started to fidget. Dwayne got it; time to take charge. "I guess I should catch up," he announced, reaching for his shirt buttons. "Let me help." Galvanized, Louise moved forward and took over, unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off, then pulling off his T-shirt. Stepping back for a moment, she took in his muscular chest, pleased, then knelt to take care of his pants. Basketball had made Dwayne lean and hard, and Louise gloried in it, given the pasty-looking boys that tended to populate her classes. Dwayne let her do what she wanted. It seemed to be important to her -- or at least pleasurable. Dwayne wondered if this was the kind of control thing that she would enjoy responding to -- telling her to do things that serviced him personally. She seemed eager enough... Louise had Dwayne's pants undone in no time; pushing them down, she helped him work his legs free. That left his tented boxers. Carefully, she pulled the waistband free of his jutting erection and lowered them to the point where they dropped free and pooled around his ankles. There it was again... Louise reached out and grasped Dwayne's cock without thinking about it. "Mmmmmm!" She leaned forward and rubbed it against her cheek, leaving a streak of pre-cum. "Easy!" Dwayne did a little dance. "I thought you wanted it inside you?" Louise looked up and nodded emphatically. "Will it last?" "Maybe, with a rubber." Dwayne grew doubtful. "Maybe not." "Then I can suck it -- it'll come back..." "Yeah." Experience with Darla Jean argued that it might even twice... "Do it!" "Goody!" Louise's lips rolled over his glans without further preamble. Dwayne hissed in pleasure. Louise backed off, watching his eyes, and murmured, "Tell me what you want..." "Suck it!" Dwayne threw his head back as Louise recapture his cock with her lips. "Yeah!" He looked back down at Louise, who was watching his face intently as she worked. "Take a little more. Yessss... Easy! No teeth! Uhhhh! Use your tongue on the underside... There... That's good... Run your lips back and forth over the head. Yessss... Go deep, then come back..." The whole time, her eyes held his as he watched her take him in and work him, following his instructions. "Uuuuuuhhhh!!! I'm close! Yesss... So close! Hungh! Cumming... CUMMING! NOW!!! HRRRGH! HRRGH! HRRRRGH!!" Dwayne's knees went weak as his cock spasmed, spitting semen into Louise's waiting mouth. "Oh, SHIT, that's good! AAAHHH!!!" For the second time in twelve hours, Louise had a mouthful of Dwayne's semen -- and she was all but smug about it! This was THE THING -- giving her boyfriend pleasure! Even better was the way he had stepped up and started directing her, rather than being passive! Life was good -- the only way she could think of to improve it was to feel his cock in her drippy snatch... Dwayne staggered back, hunched over against the flood of sensation to his now over-sensitive cock. Louise grasped one of his forearms and he rotated to a position where he could sit on her bed instinctively while he took in the Mona Lisa smile on her face. "I guess you liked that?" "Mm hmmm." Louise was holding a puddle of cum on her tongue, savoring it. Dwayne took a breath or two and patted the bed beside him. "Crawl up here and we'll see if we can't get you started." Louise got up and made for the bed, swallowing her mouthful of nectar so she could talk. "How do you want me?" "On the edge, with your feet up, I think." 'Suddenly, I'm King of the Hill or something... ' Louise arranged herself as requested, feet on the edge of the bed, knees splayed -- and gripped her upright knees for leverage so she could lean up and see what was going on. "I should have shaved..." "This?" Dwayne ruffled her thick tuft of pubic hair. "I like it. In particular, I like this..." He drew a finger through the thinner wisps alongside her open pussy lips. "Besides, wouldn't your mother have a hissy fit?" "Only if she looked..." "How likely is that?" "She did last night," Louise admitted. "Then I guess you'll be furry for a while." He continued to play with her hair-fringed lips. "Oh, God that feels good!" she exclaimed. Shivers ran up and down her spine, and her tunnel fluttered and oozed. Dwayne pulled back wet fingers. "About the drips..." "Oh! I'd better get a towel!" Louise was up and running -- a treat to Dwayne's eyes in and of itself! Such delicious jiggles! He made to follow her, but she spun at the door and put up her hands. "I'll be right back!" Dwayne nodded, grinning -- did she have any idea what those tits were doing? In moments, she was back with two towels, that she carefully deployed along the edge of the bed, then rearranged herself on them in her original position. "Is this okay?" "Yeah, fine." More than fine, actually, but Dwayne had a feeling that he needed to be sparing with praise and compliments. He moved back in. "So, you're a virgin?" he confirmed. "Well, yeah, technically." Louise looked troubled. "Technically?" Dwayne looked confused. "Field hockey can be rough! I've bled from there before..." "Oh. Well, it might make things easier..." He started working her opening with a finger; there was a membrane there, but it had a pretty good- sized hole in it. Still, it wouldn't take two fingers, and it wouldn't take his cock... "I think you're gonna notice me." "Good." Louise WANTED to be a virgin. She WANTED to give Dwayne the whole virginity-taking experience! It was the least she could do... Dwayne wormed his finger around in the opening. "How does that feel?" She was certainly wet... "G--good!" She'd never really mucked around up inside before. It felt really different... and really good! Dwayne grimaced and shrugged. "I don't know how much farther we can go..." "How are YOU doing?" Louise asked, craning her neck to get a look at his erection. "I'm... fine..." He was like steel, actually. Hell, he was fingering a pussy -- how ELSE would he be? "I think I'll get you a bit more of a jump-start. Tell me if this is good..." He put his thumb on the bump of what he figured must be her clit and started rubbing. "Ooooooohhh, yeah!" Louise shuddered. "It... won't take much of that... I want it. I want it!" "Damn! Got to get a rubber!" Dwayne disengaged and rushed to his jacket to collect the packets. Rushing back, he virtually jammed his middle finger into her opening while waving the strip of rubber packets with his off hand. "Open one of these!" He tossed them onto her belly, just under her heaving breasts. Louise let go of her knees, flopped back and started tearing at the first rubber with shaking hands. "Dammit!" Louise NEVER cursed -- her mother would have FREAKED -- but frustration changed things... The plasticized foil gave, "Yes!" "Okay..." Dwayne glanced around, flustered. Was he going to have to stop again? No. He stepped in close to work his arm between Louise's upraised knees, then knelt up on the bed. "Put it on!" "Ummm..." Louise was seeing everything through a haze, already. Which way did it go on? She tried one way, and it stopped going anywhere almost immediately. 'Okay, flip it over... Yes! Thank God!' She began rolling the sheath down Dwayne's shaft. The excitement was killing Dwayne, too! The moment her hand reached the base of his shaft, he started backing off the bed. "Okay, it's time! Here we go!" Louise grabbed her knees again, this time pulling them back to her shoulders. Dwayne nosed his cock into her opening and began to push. Louise felt the membrane start to stretch. "Okay..." She was going to tell him to take it easy, but things were just moving too fast! There was a tearing sensation, "Ow!" Dwayne stopped dead. "Uuuuhhh, sorry! Should I stop?" "No." There was a difference between 'broken' and 'hurt'; Louise was experiencing the former, but not the latter. "Come on!" She felt full already, and she KNEW he was still in the entrance! "Slow? Fast?" "It's yours, Sweetheart! Take it!" That was all Dwayne wanted to hear; he bore down on her, forcing his girth into her vaginal tunnel, spreading open her tender tissues. Lubrication wasn't an issue -- Louise was soaking wet --it was purely a case of wedging her vagina open, something that wasn't quite painful to either of them, although it bordered on it for both. The pressure on Dwayne's cock was intense -- but he couldn't seem to let up -- and Louise's inner lining fought being forced open fiercely. But it only took a few seconds for Dwayne to seat himself in Louise's depths, at which point both of them paused to take stock. "Okay?" Dwayne gasped. "Uh huh! Just... just a second..." "Okay." Clasped to the hilt in that hot, wet grip, Dwayne had no reason to go nuts moving. Instead, he waited for Louise to relax, something which happened pretty quickly. After only thirty seconds or so, Louise was visibly more relaxed. "Ready?" Louise nodded tightly. She wasn't hurting, but the fit was so tight that that she feared that her inner lining would split under the assault. But very quickly her vaginal walls relaxed and she went from stuffed to comfortable. Now it was time to get on with it... Dwayne had gotten control while holding still. Now, pleasure erupted immediately when he began moving -- for both of them. "Mmmmmmm!" Louise moaned. Dwayne started a series of slow thrusts. "Like that?" "Uh huh!" Louise nodded, wide-eyed. "Nice!" Louise had done her clit a million times -- the very fact that it was forbidden added spice to an act that was already one of the few sources of relief she had -- but penetration hadn't been on the agenda, for several reasons -- not the least of which was the odd inspection by her mother! This act was rich in sensation -- not just the flashes from her clit when Dwayne ground his pubic bone against it, but the feel of him moving through her opening, in and out, and the deeper feeling of fullness he brought and then took away with every stroke. Going slow seemed to heighten the effect, making the whole thing easier to experience without letting anything get away; Louise started to feel herself being swept up in the urgency, the intensity. Dwayne was timing his stroke for the same effect; it was better to feel things than to just hammer away -- at least until Louise accommodated herself fully. But then, wasn't it overdoing it to assume that Louise would loosen up TOO much? For one thing, she was thoroughly virginal -- and for another, she was VERY athletic! Dwayne, watching Louise's face, watched as she got more and more agitated -- but she didn't SAY anything, which surprised him. Instead, she seemed to pant more and more harshly, her nostrils distended and the most amazing look on her face -- a total intensity, tinged with surprise. Little whines got out -- that was it -- but her eyes got wider and wider... "Are you okay?" Dwayne asked. Louise nodded her head emphatically. "Can you talk?" This time, he got a head shake -- no. "Do you want me to stop?" Emphatic shake of the head. "Okay..." At about that point, Louise started seriously whining and panting and shifted her grip on her knees to include Dwayne's hands, which he found reassuring, given how tightly she was winding herself. And then she went off! Louise arched her back, and if she had opened her mouth, the sound she made would have been a scream -- but since she didn't, Dwayne was hard-pressed to describe it. Her eyeballs rolled up, which Dwayne found scary -- but the amazing thing was how she clamped down on him! Her stomach got as hard as a rock and her pussy clutched him so tightly that he almost had to stop thrusting -- but since it was milking him, anyway, there was no real loss... And he could FEEL the river that gushed from her -- a warm wetness that poured over his balls. THAT was the ONLY thing that allowed him to continue to move in her -- no amount of pressure could overcome the lubrication of that flood... This didn't last long -- perhaps ten seconds -- and then Louise collapsed, heaved a huge breath, and wailed, "Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh!" The next thing he knew, Louise had reached up and grabbed his head and was raining kisses on him -- that or trying to devour him... "That was wonderful! Oh my God!" "Well, I'm not done..." Dwayne resumed his interrupted rhythm. Louise, eyes glowing, seemed to have six hands -- she was stroking and petting and urging him on... This went on for maybe a minute and a half, then it slacked off -- because Louise was getting manic again. She clutched herself to him, raising her mons to meet his attack, her body begging for an increase in speed without benefit of her voice, which was apparently gone again... The first orgasm had been cataclysmic; Louise could feel the second one coming and knew what to expect -- but that seemed to merely enhance it! Dwayne, recognizing the signs from round one, gave her a bit extra on the down stroke -- which triggered her all the faster! This time, she managed to go "Hrrrrgh! Hrrrrgh! Hrrrgh!" through constricted lungs as she arched and pulsed; Dwayne knew that only her recent blowjob and the attenuation of the rubber kept him from shooting as he rode out her second cumming -- but the signals were there; he wasn't sure he was going to be able to give her three. The urgency having taken him, Dwayne picked up the pace as soon as she released him to move again; the effect on Louise was that she never really bottomed out! "Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!!" she wailed, clutching herself to him. Dwayne was now bent over her, legs splayed to keep him at bed level, knees bent; as he continued to jack up the pace and the power, Louise wrapped muscular thighs behind his using a snapping motion to augment his power. Things spiraled upward, out of control until Dwayne lost it, suddenly emitting a strained grunt and slamming himself deep into Louise's clutching vagina. It could have been a disaster, but apparently Louise was merely waiting for a trigger. She went over the top, clutching him to her with both arms and both legs, pulling him off his feet, all the while arching and wailing, "CUM! CUM!! CUM!!" while her pussy milked his spurting cock! When rational thought returned to Dwayne, he was still clutched in Louise's embrace while she caressed him here and there, humming. Exhausted, he mumbled, "Let me up..." "Yes, Dwayne." It was a purr. Dwayne managed to flounder up a bit and roll off her -- and she rolled onto her side so she could continue to touch him. "What are you doing?" he asked. Louise paused. "Just touching you..." Fear claimed her face; was he rejecting her? Dwayne caught it. "Oh, okay." He pulled her against him. "That was heavy duty! I have to rest a minute..." "Yes, Dwayne," Louise purred, rubbing his back. Sex had been everything she anticipated, but giving herself to Dwayne was just as -- if not more -- important to her. There was something SO satisfying about giving Dwayne her body... The first two orgasms had been incredible -- but that third pop? It shouldn't have happened; she should have been left hanging, but Dwayne came, and that seemed to be all that was required. And it satisfied her, too, where the other two had fed the flame. The only remaining question was, had she been good enough for him? She had laid it all out in a timeframe that justified her mother's poor opinion of her -- but it hadn't been ALL about finally having her pussy pumped. No, it had been about Dwayne, whom she had wanted since the moment he stood before her, eyes bugged at her cleavage, validating that yes, she WAS desirable -- and to someone important and popular, too, not some third-stringer! Dwayne seemed to be elsewhere, but he wasn't, really. He was congratulating himself for his good fortune! Dwayne's interactions with girls hadn't been any too encouraging until this week -- and the Darla Jean thing had been both positive and negative. While he had dimly perceived that the positive impacts on his social life might outweigh the cloud that being splashed with the overflow of Ted's reputation as an accused rapist cast over him, what he expected to get was Bang Nation -- skinny, bucktoothed slips like Erin McGrath, or fat, pimply chicks willing to do whatever to be seen with him. While at first glance Louise fit that crowd, the more he saw of her -- and he'd seen it ALL by now! -- the more everything about her sweet muscular curves said 'Babe!' Add in her personality -- which would take some getting used to, but Dwayne could stand to have a relationship where his control of things went unchallenged -- and this looked very much like a gift from the gods! Whatever he'd done right, he was certainly thankful for! And the sex! Holy shit! Amazing! Tight, sweet, flexible, strong -- and she cums like a racehorse, and SQUIRTS! He squeezed her against him, smelling her hair. "What are you thinking?" she asked. "I'm wondering how I got this lucky..." Dwayne had to stop there, because Louise rolled atop him and was all over him, squirming, kissing and rubbing -- obviously THAT was the right answer! ------- Chapter 56: Explanations and Accusations Louise wasn't the only one who wondered what the end result of her uninhibited behavior was going to be that morning. Caitlin was lying next to Howard, propped up on one elbow, watching him sleep. Howard had been a surprise on just about every level -- and that made things difficult for Caitlin. First and foremost, she had made a ton of mistakes, she now realized. The proper thing to do would have been to do the standard dating thing -- a first date with a bit of a tease at the end, a second where she let him make ground and whet his appetite, and a third where she finally, with great (fake) reluctance, allowed him to nail her. But Caitlin was habituated to one-night stands, and she'd approached Howard as an experiment -- and that meant that she kept throwing challenges at him. And every time he rose above a challenge, she moved on to the next! So, in twenty-four hours, Howard exceeded expectation in every category of her one-night-stand Olympics -- and in the process, she had laid herself wide open, presenting herself as a slut looking for a one-night stand -- obviously not a situation conducive to a long-term relationship. Any chance of earning Howard's respect was gone -- he had seen everything, done everything (okay, maybe not quite EVERYTHING, but plenty enough!), heard everything... "Will you respect me in the morning?" was a question that hadn't occurred to her until it was too late... On top of that, her job was probably forfeit -- unless she wanted to live in the shadow of his ability to blackmail her. She could see herself, pimped by Howard as the party girl for executive get-togethers, taking on three at a time, sucking Old Man Connors' dick... Caitlin grinned to herself; okay, maybe the imagination was going a bit wild, this morning; besides, she might suck Connors' dick if it meant she could sleep with Howard again... Who would have thought that the skinny geek would not only be an adequate fuck-buddy, but a treat? Now, she cast about desperately for some bit of mystery to hold him and bring him back -- and didn't find squat. Oh, sure, she could offer her ass -- but Howard didn't strike Caitlin as an ass man -- and he might even find the offer offensive! Acting the way she felt wouldn't help; she'd pretended to be enamored of a guy more than once as a reverse psychology tactic -- and laughed after they all but ran out the door! Letting him know how sweet she thought he was would undoubtedly backfire. Even just playing it cool and acting only vaguely interested was probably a fifty-fifty proposition, at best; 'Yeah, that was nice, blah, blah, blah... ' would probably make him think he was inadequate, even after he'd witnessed her reactions (and she KNEW that he had a thing about hookers and faked orgasms!) The thing that was a pain about the whole thing was that she hadn't faked ANYTHING -- it had been the best sex she'd had in YEARS! So, what to do? Reverse psychology worked pretty well to get rid of a guy; maybe... Yeah, that was it! She'd play the old, 'That was wonderful, but... ' card! And he'd argue and wheedle and she could reluctantly agree to another date... It was too late to lock him out, but, Hell, she WANTED him reaming her pussy! She just needed to make it less than easily attainable. Yeah, that would work... She reached out and touched him, gently -- that was all it took, since Howard was unused to having other occupants in his bed. His eyes popped open. "Hi." "Hi. How did you sleep?" Caitlin grimaced to herself; morning- after conversation could be so inane... "Okay -- guess I was tired." Wasted, more like! He'd ridden Caitlin HARD, and it caught up to him -- but it had certainly been worth it... "Well, we were up late, and neither of us was exactly napping..." Caitlin ventured. "Yeah." He reached out and touched her arm. Time to play poker; Caitlin pulled away and sat up, sighing. "Back to the salt mines..." Howard didn't quite go, "Huh?" -- but he thought about it! "Sorry?" "Well..." Caitlin had no problem sounding reluctant. "Last night was great, but it won't play at the office." THAT again! Howard had some difficulty seeing how it was relevant; she didn't work for him, after all. This wasn't any boss sexually harassing his assistant scenario... Still, if it was that much of a concern for her, the thing for him to do was to let it ride... "Oh. Okay." Okay? Aw, shit! Maybe she hadn't laid it on thick enough? Okay wasn't what he was suppose to say! "Well, surely you can see the problem -- I'm wide open, especially after last night..." It seemed to Howard that the damage was done; if she wanted to date him, it would be a case of getting more, not getting in deeper. But he remembered that one-nighters were her thing; she was just closing him off, like the other guys. "If you say so." 'If I say so? FUCK!' This wasn't going well! Caitlin turned a look of exasperation on Howard. 'Jesus, how can he be so dense?' This was followed by uncertainty; 'Was I that bad a fuck? Nah... ' What was up with the woman? She wanted it chopped off -- the thing to do was to let it go, no matter how much he personally thought it sucked... Actually, this was one of the things he liked about Caitlin -- her ability to separate sex and her ambitions; most women, in his experience, would have used last night as a tool to connive her way into a relationship... The look on her face said that he had stepped in it, somewhere, though... "What's wrong?" "Was it that bad? Didn't you enjoy it?" "Hey it was GREAT! Incredible!" "... But I acted like a total slut -- is that it?" "No. That was refreshing! You were straightforward, totally uninhibited -- I've never had anything like that! But you SAID..." "Yeah..." Caitlin was confused. So he was just letting it go because... Suddenly the lights came on. Erin had said, "Smart guys don't use the regular playbook..." She eyed him suspiciously for a moment before saying tentatively, "What would you say if I told you that last night was great, and I really, really wanted to see you again?" "Gee, I don't know. Something on the order of, 'Great! When?' Something like that..." "So you wouldn't, like, suddenly remember that you had to go to church or play golf or something and rush me into my clothes and dump me at my house and tell me you'll call, but avoid me like the plague?" Howard sat through this open-mouthed. At the end of her amazing scenario recital, he sat for a moment, blinked, and said, "Oh." "Oh?" Real fear surfaced in Caitlin. Howard scratched his head. "I'm kind of stupid that way. I don't think it would occur to me. If I didn't want to see you, I think I'd try to find some way of breaking the truth to you gently." He shook his head. "So guys really do that, huh?" Caitlin shrugged, grimaced. "I've learned to count on it as a way to get rid of a guy..." "Soooo..." "So the rulebook says if I tell you no, you're SUPPOSED to try to change my mind!" Howard looked perplexed. "We're both up-front people -- why would we want to go in circles like that?" "Something about the thrill of the chase?" Caitlin replied. Now that he mentioned it... "Although, I haven't left much..." Howard chuckled. "I've been chasing you for years! Ever think about that?" "Ummm, yeah, forgot about that." 'Courage, Girl!' "Okay, fresh start. I'd, uh, like to do this again, sometime..." Howard smiled. "Me, too! The whole thing -- dinner, dancing, pleasant company... The rest, too, of course -- but there is no requirement to skip the preliminaries..." He grinned wickedly, "Unless you're itchy, of course!" Caitlin grinned back. "I made a regular spectacle of myself, didn't I?" Howard shrugged. "I was thrilled to death! Nothing sucks worse than making love to a woman who is either obviously faking or has this Mona Lisa rictus on her face... You yell and scream all you want!" ------- Armand was amiably presiding over the family breakfast. "So, Nate, working today?" "Yeh," Nate nodded, absorbing some scrambled eggs. After chewing, he added, "Gonna take Draper around, too." Armand nodded. "He'll probably be welcome." Sharon sat quiet, toying with a waffle. "Is something wrong?" Armand asked. "Nooo..." But she continued to play with her food. After a bit, Nora and Nate passed a glance, and Nora directed a significant look at her father, flicking her eyes toward her mother. "I think we're all set, Daddy. May we be excused?" Armand, surprised at the formal request, granted it. "Certainly." Nate and Nora got up and left, Nora kissing her mother on the shoulder on the way out and Nate giving the lie to the completion of their meals by snagging a banana on the way out. Armand let them get clear for a bit before querying, "All right, out with it." Sharon wouldn't look at him, but she opened up, "Things seem... easier, this time..." Armand grunted. "You've grown. And I'm sharing the wealth, a bit." "There are the... other things..." Sharon muttered. "Felicia, Leticia..." Armand nodded. "I've detected some other latencies in you; we're going to explore them." "Lesbian?" "Not necessarily." Armand mused for a moment. "I thought we might start that way and see where it goes -- easier than starting you with a man." "I don't understand..." "I think you might be a successful switch, properly brought along. It will help you manage things around here, for one thing, if you establish your dominance over some members of the staff," Armand amplified. "Why is this important?" "Jason is tough to compete with; besides, since it appears that he is going to produce a family, it will be more efficient if I can remove one of his foci so that he can continue to be effective while dealing with fatherhood. I want you to step into this role, and dominating female staff members is a start." "Felicia isn't really a staff member." "No, she goes a bit beyond. But the pair of you hit it off and she both doesn't mind girl-girl sex and she needs to stay in practice, so I want her to continue look to you as her Mistress. That gives her something important to look forward to -- serving me at one remove." "What about the male staff?" Sharon asked. "Charles and Boris have this in hand for now," Armand replied. "It may be of value for you to be able to dispense rewards to them, periodically, either using Charles or Boris as an intermediary, or directly. Some of them would not respond to feminine dominance; some will, properly applied. We can discuss this on a case-by-case basis." He eyed her. "This is about the strap-on, isn't it?" "Yes." "How did you feel about that?" "Conflicted." "Go on." "I can't say I didn't enjoy parts of it. But I was abusing another woman..." "Well, there is abuse and abuse," Armand replied. "Leticia bought into the lifestyle that happens in this household a long time ago. And periodically she acts up deliberately in order to get attention." "Well, she's gotten plenty in the last couple of days!" Sharon exclaimed. "True," Armand chuckled. "At first, I planned to teach her a lesson she would never forget, but I think Boris is good for her. If we throw them together a couple more times, I think she's going to submit to him totally." "But he has that idea that if he gets her pregnant and turns her into a milk cow, she'll grow big breasts!" Sharon exclaimed. Armand waved dismissal. "That plays to her favorite fantasy -- she WANTS to have children by a white man. Boris is perfect for her because he has totally dominated her and that feeds her white master race fetish. Back to you." "I don't guess I hurt her..." "No, I don't think so. But you established dominance over her in a very personal way -- in a way that I have used effectively time and time again on you! How did it make you feel?" "Well, in some ways I liked it. I didn't feel right about it, but I liked it." Armand smiled. "All of the women in this household -- with a couple of exceptions, both young girls -- are here, in part, because they understand submission. You aren't doing anything to them that they didn't sign up for. That being the case, you can put any guilt you might feel right out of your head. Does that help?" Sharon thought about it. "I guess it does." She looked up at her ex-husband. "Will you be importing more women?" Armand shrugged. "I really haven't decided. At this point, it seems unnecessary -- but you may decide that you want me to if things become too intense again. Besides, it's entertainment..." He eyed her. "I may import the occasional man, too. You need to grow in that direction." "For me?" Sharon asked, incredulous. "Yes. In both roles. I may wish to see you used, and I may wish to see you develop as a dominatrix. In either case, I will demand compliance from you. I may require your cooperation in order to further a project, whether it be a business dealing, or merely entertainment with a toy. I expect you to rise to the occasion in either case." "I don't know..." "I do. You have grown quite a bit in a short time. You can -- and you will -- do as I ask. You will step into your role as Mistress of this household. I suspect that it will be convenient that I not again bind you to me legally -- but nonetheless, you are the agent of my will and the premiere female in this household. Do you understand?" "Yes, Armand." Sharon knew better than to argue -- besides, he was stroking her ego pretty thoroughly. Over the past few nights, she had spent more time in Armand's quarters than her own, too -- and it hadn't been particularly arduous, either. Armand continued, "One of the alterations in our relationship is that I need not abuse you intensively at odd intervals to remind you that I control your destiny whether you are in my presence or not. As a result, we can deal with one another much more informally, which is critical to your ability to support me. That being the case, you may ask me questions regarding my plans for your development without unreasonable fear of reprisal. Shall we finish dining?" Sharon nodded and returned to her breakfast with better appetite. ------- Erin was watching TV when Caitlin attempted to sneak in the front door. "Hi, Mom," she ventured, pretending to be blasé, "How was your date?" "It was... very good, actually. How did you do after we left?" "I didn't put it off any more, if that's what you're asking!" Erin replied archly. "And I'm REAL GLAD I didn't! WOW!" "Well, based on MY experience, YOU should write an advice column!" Caitlin replied. "The only problem I have with last night's date is how to get him to repeat it -- many times!" Erin giggled. "So, Weird Howard is..." "VASTLY underrated! Omigod!" Caitlin exclaimed. "And I'd have never, EVER given him a second look! He's cute, he's funny, he's reasonably well-coordinated, he doesn't drink like a fish or beat women -- and the SEX! MY GOD!" Erin tittered. "I think we're batting a thousand with smart guys..." "You can say THAT again!" Caitlin agreed. "I'm going to run upstairs and soak a bit -- I haven't been ridden like that in YEARS!" "Don't use all the hot water, please!" ------- "Princess?" Charlotte Pinkersley rapped on her daughter's door, then stuck her head in. What greeted her eyes was -- in the foreground -- her daughter's bare ass. Beyond that, her head, bobbing up and down -- and beyond THAT, Ted's face, bearing a somewhat strained expression. "Oh." She sighed, gathering herself. "How many times?" "We're, uh, trying for four..." Ted grunted. "Okay." Charlotte assumed command. "Princess? Ted is a renewable resource -- but you have to feed him and ensure that he doesn't get friction burns. Ted, you HAVE to keep her out of your lap! She's functionally insatiable if you don't..." "Yeah, right." Ted hauled Claudette forward by her armpits, being sure to nestle her in his. "That's good -- hold her until she settles down -- it might take a bit," Charlotte advised. But Claudette settled quickly, snuggling up. "That was quick! What... ?" Ted grinned tightly. "There is a variant on the pheromone, which has a calming effect without the sex piece. Comes from the pits..." Charlotte looked surprised. "That's a new one..." She gathered herself. "Princess, I want you to throw on a robe and bring Ted to breakfast, now. He's going to need his nutrition -- and you will, too. We need to talk about how things have changed." Her voice hardened. "Princess?" "Yes, Mom." Claudette raised her head. "Twenty minutes." Charlotte swept out. Claudette levered herself up, and Ted took a breath. "Do we have time for a shower?" "You do," Claudette sighed. "I would never get my hair back together in time..." She went to the closet. "Mom said a robe..." Ted blinked. "Apparently, we're being literal..." "Mom tends to be," Claudette replied. She fished out a robe and threw it on. "Are you going to shower, then?" "Yeah, actually." Ted got up. Twenty minutes later, Ted seated himself in a sunny dining nook with Claudette, her mother, and a balding fellow with eyeglasses in pajamas and a robe. Charlotte was apparently dressed similarly to her daughter - but Ted was willing to bet there was a nightgown under HER robe. "Juice? Coffee?" Charlotte asked. "Uh, both, I think. Orange, or something else?" Ted asked. "We have several," his hostess replied. "Orange, grapefruit, tomato..." "Tomato." "Bridgette! Tomato juice!" Charlotte raised her voice and got an immediate response from a maid waiting near the door. Turning, she added, "I believe that introductions are in order. Ted Phipps, isn't it? This is my husband, Hubert. As you may have guessed, you have something in common..." "Sir." Time to turn on the charm. Hubert Pinkersley nodded regally. "I understand that you share certain olfactory markers with me and certain predatory instincts with my wife," he observed dryly. "Ah. Um, yes." Ted had the grace to be embarrassed. Hubert sighed. "Probably a good thing..." Bridgette arrived, delivered the juice, and Charlotte shooed her away. "Privacy, please!" Turning to Ted and Claudette, she urged, "Eat, eat!" Ted started filling a plate from a reasonably decent layout on the table while Charlotte turned her attention to her daughter. "Did you enjoy yourself, Dear?" "Yes, Mom. How bad a trouble am I in?" Claudette asked. "You're not, Princess," her mother replied, "Today is the first day of the rest of your life. We're here for some explanations, Dear -- and to make some plans. Tell me about Ted, here." "I don't understand." "Tell me why you chose to offer him a relationship last night. What separated him from your other candidates?" "Well, I..." Claudette shrugged. "He has a certain dangerous charm. And he also seems to be able to read people. And he has a knack for getting himself out of serious trouble." She shook her head. "Actually, I underestimated him." Charlotte nodded. "And is that a bad thing?" "It almost was." 'Given the way things are, do I want to get Ted into trouble?' Claudette wondered. "So Ted related to me last night," Charlotte replied smoothly. "Your empty-headedness almost landed you on the endangered species list!" "Yes, Mom." Claudette hung her head. "All's well that ends well, though -- and I think you did a good job, actually," her mother added breezily. "After last night, I'm sure you have questions, Dear." "Well," Claudette replied. "I don't understand why you let Ted stay, exactly -- and I don't understand why you encouraged us to have sex! Not that I'm upset, or anything," she added. "It's all fairly simple, Dear," Charlotte replied. "Your father and I have been shielding you from sex -- and from your sexual nature -- for your own good." "Doesn't every parent try that?" Claudette replied. "Certainly most try," her mother replied. "But you are exceptionally vulnerable, as you have no doubt discovered." "Ted's smell?" "Ted's smell." Charlotte sighed. "This pheromone thing isn't limited to Ted, Princess -- about one boy in twelve can excite you to the point that you lose your ability to make rational decisions. That's why we took such harsh measures to ensure that you distanced yourself from boys." She turned to Ted. "Claudette's ignorance in matters sexual is deliberately appalling -- you're going to need to teach her just about everything. We either lied to her or kept her in ignorance about every aspect of sexual behavior that we possibly could -- and attempted to instill superstition and prejudice where we could not." Charlotte turned back to Claudette. "Those old-world southern belle manners I instilled in you were designed to keep you from attracting boys and gathering any real understanding of sex while obtaining a social standing. Now, we're going to allow you to flower -- but hopefully, we can maintain your social standing and reputation in the process. When I was your age..." She sighed. "When I was your age, I made many mistakes, and it took a long time to fix some of them -- some I may never live down." "Okay," Claudette sipped her coffee. "So what changes? And this was all because of me sucking Ted?" Charlotte frowned. "Actually, if it had been ONLY that, we might have taken a different tack," she replied. "You're probably lucky; I'd have abused you with what a slut you are and closeted you from boys totally. No, you giving someone else gratification would have put you on the road, and we would have changed tactics, but it is what Ted did for YOU that REALLY requires that we change things." "It does?" Claudette flicked a glance at Ted. "Which thing?" Charlotte regarded her daughter for a moment, her face expressionless. "How long after Ted brought you to orgasm with his hand did you wait to touch yourself?" "Oh." Claudette looked guilty. "An hour -- maybe two." Charlotte nodded. "Exposure to the pheromone awakens you sexually, but until you actually have an orgasm, things do not get out of hand. When you do, though, things really take off, and you start needing regular release. Like you, I did not obtain my first orgasm through intercourse -- and I was secretive, anyway; my mother did not discover that I was touching myself, my teachers did -- and that was not until I was habituated and could not keep my hand out of my panties, even in public! I shamed my family and got kicked out of several schools -- not to mention the reputation I acquired. Of course, that reputation brought me opportunities for intercourse, which set me off and running..." She shook away the memories. "You needed to know early that your fingers are no substitute for a penis -- or even a tongue! That's why I sent Ted up to finish the job last night -- it is really fortunate that you managed to find him." Claudette frowned. "You've said that a couple of times now, Mom. Why?" Charlotte sighed. "In the first place, there are the attributes that you have identified. In the second, there is the issue of his smell. And finally, there are the attributes that I discovered in my conversation with him..." "Like what?" "You're an adult now," Charlotte replied, "so I plan to limit my verbal abuse of you -- but there are certain realities, here... He's smarter than you, for one thing." "Mom!" "I wasn't being nasty, I was stating facts. He also has a certain predatory instinct, and the grit to do whatever is necessary to move forward with a plan once it is conceived. This could be invaluable, not only to you, but to all of us." Charlotte replied. "I fail to..." "Surely you see that you will require continued supervision," Charlotte pointed out. "Trust me, where sex is concerned, you CANNOT trust your impulses! You need someone to watch your back -- and Ted, for both the reasons you picked him for in the first place and the ones I've enumerated -- is an excellent choice. He can support your social position, and he can keep you from ending up on your back with the wrong boy..." She smirked. "Of course, this will only work if he's the RIGHT boy -- perhaps I'm setting you both up for failure..." Claudette looked at Ted. The reasons that she had originally picked him still held force -- but he had tricked her, lied to her, abused her -- basically raped her... On the other hand, she had lied to him from the outset, and according to him it was the primary reason for a number of his actions. Then, when you looked at the flip side, he had proven that he COULD be gentle with her, and he was a VERY satisfactory lover... She wasn't going to be able to manipulate him -- but he DID respond well to direct dealing... "Well, he oversteps himself, sometimes -- he's TOO aggressive. But he listens..." Charlotte cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. What she WASN'T hearing was 'no'. "I think maybe the pair of you have gone over this a bit already, which is a good thing. The only thing that might have changed for you is the realization that Ted is not unique in being able to trigger your worst behavior. On the other hand, Ted may BE unique in the fact that he combines that with his other attributes..." She turned to Ted. "And you?" Ted shrugged. "Claudette is right; I can be an extremist. But she's offered good advice in that area, and I think I was smart enough to take it. Each of us tends to see the exploitable parts of a social situation -- and each of us can benefit from a second opinion. Claudette brings a lot to the table; she did, actually, before last night, but it was unattainable, so it was useless to me." He took a sip of coffee. "That's all changed -- actually, it did before we got into sex, and I started recognizing it while I was still setting her up to teach her a lesson; once you get inside her shell, she's pretty decent. I think we have a helluva lot better shot than we did last night when she hit me up -- although, to be fair, there WAS something to be had, even then." "You need to realize that this isn't going to be any walk in the park," Charlotte cautioned Ted. "For one thing, there will be times when you will be unable to keep up!" She turned to her daughter, "Princess, by the time I was your age, I'd pulled my first train -- and it wasn't the last, by a LOOONG shot!" Claudette's face said she probably didn't want to know, but... "Pulled a train?" "Gang bang -- multiple guys," Ted interjected. "Ewwwww!" Charlotte shrugged. "You'll get the urge -- and nothing less will do! But we'll help you keep it... anonymous..." She turned to Ted. "We WILL help. We can arrange venues where she can handle this kind of thing in a secure environment -- or at least anonymously -- but she'll probably slip the leash at some point. Besides, you'll want to be there, anyway, unless I miss my guess..." She sighed. "In the right mood, she's not safe with girls, either, although it's less of a trigger situation; without a male present, she CAN control herself -- but under certain circumstances, she may not want to. That will be something to keep an eye out for." She turned back to Claudette, "I was a slut -- I turned pajama parties into lesbian lick-offs. I'd hate to tell you how I put myself through college!" Hubert roused himself. "Let's not succumb to the urge for true confessions, Dear." Charlotte sighed and nodded. Hubert turned his attention to Ted, "You're gonna wear horns, Son. Charlotte gets caught short periodically even now. Claudette is in her prime; we're talking about wild sex parties, hanging out while she takes on a couple of dozen boys three at a time..." "Daddy!" Claudette ranted, "You make it sound like I'm some sort of wild monster, or something!" "Sorry, Princess, but he deserves to know what he's getting into! You do, too, for that matter!" Hubert insisted. Ted was rubbing his forehead. Hubert offered some solace, "She'll be back, after, and she'll be sorry, and she'll look to you to make her hurts all better." He turned a gimlet eye on his daughter, "And she has NOTHING to say about anything YOU do while she is entertaining herself!" Neither of the young people looked particularly happy. Ted was thoughtful, and Claudette looked distinctly unhappy. But Ted looked at Claudette and husked, "I can handle it, all things being equal." Claudette shook her head. "I'm not like that! It's not going to happen! Really!" Charlotte passed a significant glance with Hubert, who nodded and looked at Ted, raising his eyebrows. Ted pursed his lips and thought about it for a moment, then drew Claudette to him, deliberately tucking her into his armpit. Charlotte took over the rebuttal, murmuring, "You don't understand, Princess. Functionally, you have a disease, like depression, or gambling. It's not your fault that you're a slut..." Claudette, now relaxed, responding to the gentlest of pressures, dropped her head into Ted's lap, protesting petulantly, "But I haven't done anything like that!" "Are you sure, Princess? What about last night? How did you feel about sucking Ted's cock?" "It's a penis, Mom." But Claudette was rooting in Ted's lap. "What's wrong with saying penis?" "Nothing, Dear. But there are other names -- or nicknames, if you will. You should learn them -- words like cock, dick, peter, joint, Johnson, prick, rod... There are a whole bunch. Do you know the parts?" "Ummm, no..." "Well, it's fortunate that you have Ted to teach you, don't you think?" "Umm hummm..." Ted was hard; he couldn't help it with Claudette rubbing her face all over his crotch and feeling him up through his pants. "It's fortunate that he can teach you all about yourself, too, don't you think?" Charlotte added blandly. "Do you know all of your parts? Do you know the difference between a nipple and an areole?" "Mmmmm, think so..." Claudette started digging at her robe. In a moment, she had it half off, shrugging out of the left sleeve. "You shouldn't touch yourself," Charlotte reminded her daughter. "Tell Ted what to do..." "Nipple is the pointy part," Claudette mumbled, taking Ted's hand and placing it on her breast. "Areole is the dark part around it, right?" "That's right, Princess," Charlotte agreed reasonably. "Does it feel good when Ted plays with it?" "Oh, God, yes!" Claudette moaned. Her cookie was a swamp! "What about below? Do you know the parts?" "Not all... Ummm, vagina... Claudette took Ted's hand and moved it to her crotch, going so far as to straighten a finger and direct it into her channel. "Other parts, not sure..." Charlotte nodded at Ted. "Ted will help point out other things. There are lips down there, or labia." Ted ran his finger up and down Claudette's pink channel, then caught one of her thick outer labia between his thumb and forefinger. "Girls differ in this, but there are two sets. Your outer lips are thicker, see?" "Um hum..." Claudette was gazing at the hand working her crotch, owlishly. "Up at the top, there, that little bump that gives you such pleasure is called a clitoris, or a clit. Nice, isn't it?" Charlotte droned. Hubert was looking away... "Do you know any slang names for your womanhood?" "I call it a cookie..." Claudette mused. "That's an unusual, little girl name for it. Ted, if you would?" Charlotte asked. "Um, okay. Pussy is pretty standard, but there are others, like cunt, twat, snatch, cooze, slot, furburger... Probably a dozen more..." Ted racked his brain. "In any case, you're probably too old for cookie, Princess. You should really pick something else out," Charlotte chided. "And you should really learn about boys..." Claudette needed no further encouragement to start tearing at Ted's belt. "Princess!" Charlotte admonished, "Be polite!" "Please show me..." Claudette's expression was wistful. Charlotte shrugged, waved a hand. Fortunately, she was a foot or two distant. She glanced up at Hubert, who was watching her, instead of her daughter. 'Good. He'll keep me out of trouble... ' Ted suffered the opening of his belt, the unzipping of his trousers, and a bit of tugging before asking, "Are you sure you want to do this?" "Uh huh." Claudette was thoroughly focused. Ted shrugged and raised himself; Claudette slipped to the ground, dumping the robe off her other shoulder in the process. "So, Princess, what parts do you know? Ted, do you have a foreskin?" "No, I'm circumcised," Ted replied. "Well, you'll have to learn about that another day, Princess -- basically, it's a layer of skin that slides over the tip, protecting it. Do you know what a cock tip is called? The head, there?" "Um, no..." Charlotte waved at Ted, who responded, "It's called a glans." "Nice, isn't it?" Charlotte asked. "Uh huh." Looking wasn't enough; Claudette was smelling it, rubbing against it with her cheek. "Of course, sperm doesn't come from there," Charlotte murmured. "No," Claudette husked. "Testicles." "Right," Charlotte agreed. "Testicles, balls, nuts... Do you know what the little sack they're in is called? That thing you're licking?" "Ummm..." Claudette continued licking. "Scrotum," Ted supplied. "I can't think of any nicknames -- everybody sort of goes for the balls... Easy! Gentle!" Claudette was sucking his tender testicles between her lips. Hubert sighed. "I think our work is done here, for now." Charlotte disagreed. "Not quite yet, Dear -- she'll need the full impact." Ted frowned. "You did this so that later..." Claudette was actively sucking his cock, now, and clutching his left hand to her right breast. Charlotte nodded. "Yes..." Turning her attention to her daughter, she queried, "Do you know what you're doing now?" Claudette backed off with a pop. "Blow job?" "That's right. The technical name for it is fellatio." "It seems pretty natural to her," Ted ventured. "When she comes out..." "We're not going to rely upon memory," Charlotte replied. "See there?" She flicked her eyes at a room corner -- and Ted discovered a camera. "There are two others," she added, "When we debrief this, we'll have plenty of evidence, I think." Shifting her attention to Claudette, she murmured, "Fellatio is fun, but it isn't that physically satisfying, is it, Dear?" "Uh uh." Claudette's loins had been on fire for several minutes. She knew what she was doing -- but everybody has sex with their boyfriend, right? Besides, this was sex education... She pushed Ted's chair back until it was clear of the table, stood, and mounted Ted's erection, cowgirl- style. "Aaaahhhh!! God, I needed that!" "I'm sure you did," Charlotte simpered. "Do you know what that is called? If you love the boy, it's making love -- if you don't, it's fucking, or screwing, or getting laid... The technical name is intercourse." "Uh huh." 'Shut up, Mom! I'm busy, here!' Claudette set up a good, solid bounce, driven by flexing thighs and her hands on Ted's shoulders. Ted forbore making any movement himself -- it was a waste of energy he might need later. "There are lots of ways to have sex," Charlotte rattled on. "Many positions. The one you're using is called 'cowgirl'..." "Uh... huh... I'm... real busy... Mom!" Claudette got out. 'Why won't she shut up and let me enjoy myself?' Her first orgasm was already there, hovering. Ted's cock was SOOOO good! He was so sweet, holding still so she could get everything the way she wanted it! She could feel it, now; she perceived her orgasm rushing down on her like the headlight of a train in a railroad tunnel. Annoyance flickered across Charlotte's features, but it was minor. She got up and approached her bouncing daughter. "One final question, Princess, and Mom will let you alone. Are you fucking, Dear, or are you making love?" Claudette's eyes locked on Ted's -- and glowed. "I'm making love..." Ted smiled back. That was sneaky... In the meantime, Charlotte was rubbing his shoulder, beaming. Ted enjoyed it for a moment, then a thought impinged on his consciousness and he became uneasy. Was Claudette's mother getting a little pink? "Mister Pinkersley?" "Coming..." Claudette's father appeared behind Charlotte, wrapping an arm around her and deliberately cupping her breast through her robe. "Yeah, you're right. Call me Hubert, Son. I'll take care of this..." Hubert put his lips on his wife's neck and murmured, "Come away, Dear. I'll take care of you in private, so that you're not embarrassed later. Okay?" Charlotte allowed herself to be pulled away from the now wildly bouncing couple. "Bend over a bit, and I'll give you a treat while I talk to Princess for a moment..." Both Claudette and Ted watched as Hubert opened Charlotte's robe, reached in, and collected a dangling breast. "There, how's that?" he asked, rolling a nipple. "Nice," Charlotte husked. Hubert turned his attention to the rutting couple. "You two are generating quite an aura," he observed. He cupped Claudette's chin. "You don't want to hurt Ted, Princess -- let him get his, then stop and let him eat so he can keep up his strength. You want to be able to enjoy him again and again, so don't be greedy!" "Yes, Daddy. I-- AAAAAUUUUUGGGGHHHH!!!" Claudette's eyes rolled up and she went manic. The concept of again and again pushed her right over the edge. "Come along, Charlotte," Hubert murmured, releasing his wife's breast. "Let's go upstairs..." "Have a good time, Princess!" Charlotte threw over her shoulder. "I'm going to go upstairs and get your father to fuck my brains out!" Hubert locked eyes with Ted and rolled his, but kept Charlotte moving. Claudette was in no shape to respond, anyway... "We'll reconvene at lunch and discuss the results of this demonstration. In the meantime, if you need anything... You might want to check in with your parents, at some point..." Charlotte was dragging Hubert as they disappeared. Claudette was coming down from her first orgasm. "Uuuhhh! Legs gone..." She bounced weakly, obviously unbalanced. Ted grinned. "No problem. I'll just teach you another position..." He lifted her off, turned her, and draped her over the table, scattering dishes everywhere, then plugged himself in and took over the stroke, "This is called doggie style, Hon..." Maybe he'd managed to hold control long enough to cum, this way... ------- Louise Bryant hummed as she loaded her bed linens into the washer; the two towels she had draped on the bed had proven totally inadequate to collect the gushers she created when she came around Dwayne's pounding cock -- and there was an issue of bloodstains from her now fully-obliterated maidenhead, something thoroughly incriminating, should her mother discover it. Pushing Dwayne out the door at ten had been one of the hardest things she had ever done, but she HAD to get ready for the eleven o'clock service; if she didn't show up, Mother would kill her! Okay, maybe not KILL, but GROUND, certainly -- and that was intolerable, now. Being there for Dwayne was now an issue of the utmost importance, and if it meant being angelic in Mother's presence, so be it. Louise waddled to her room and began to dress; she was sore from the morning's exercise, but it was a good sore -- a very satisfactory sore. It was another thing she would have to hide, but it was well worth it; she hadn't been so happy since... Gee, since when? Still humming, she waddled out the door, headed for church. ------- Nate wheeled his battered car up in front of Draper's place, and Draper, already out on the steps, hopped in. "Hey." "Hey," Draper grunted. "So, dis is all cool?" "Yeh. All cool. They got plenty of work, Man." The drive to the east side of town went pleasantly, like old times; Nate and Draper could talk about anything -- even pussy. Once, it was ESPECIALLY pussy, but that was when they were doing without... Stick was a subject of conversation. "I cain't believe that shit!" Nate grunted. "You're readin' too much inta it," Draper counseled. "It's like this -- Stick likes getting' his dick wet. This Teddy is white meat what don't mind suckin' a dick. I hear tell dat dudes suck better, 'cause dey know what da fuck dey doin'..." Nate grinned. "I thought you was cleanin' up your language..." Tenisha wanted Draper showing his true colors, not playing 'Boyz in the Hood'. Draper grinned back. "Practicin' fo' work. Might come in handy bein' 'dat stupid nigger'..." Nate shrugged. "Don' think so. They're cool." "Whatever. Anyway, upshot is that Stick's got two bitches to poke. Don't make him queer. Shit, this Teddy likes pussy, too..." Nate chuckled. "Fat Mary's pussy..." "Jus' 'cause it be packed in blubber don' mean it ain't no good! She's getting' two dicks -- mus' be somethin' good about it!" "Yeh, I guess. What about that asshole shit?" "Booty is booty. One day I'll turn 'Nisha up..." Draper grinned. "Looka here -- just pretend Teddy is inna dress an' don' fuckin' worry 'bout it!" "Yeah, I guess. I just get caught up in the idea of Stick suckin' dick..." "You be makin' a problem where one don't exist. Even if he is doin' Teddy -- and I ain't sayin' he is -- it's probly more like lickin' clit. An' it's between them, an' not goin' nowhere else." Nate grunted. "Yeh. Guess so." DiAngelo was on the dock, smoking. "Brought a frien'," Nate related. "Yah. Gotta call." The 'Didn't like it' went unsaid. "Least he looks like he can carry shit. What's your name?" "Draper Travis." Draper thought about adding 'suh', but decided it'd be taken for bullshit. Too many other bruthuhs around, some of 'em grinning. Fat little muthafuckah must be cool... "Awright. Ride with Nate and Roland. Roland says you pull your weight, we'll talk about it." DiAngelo dismissed them both with a wave. "Roland! Ya got two! Lemme see ya do two more stops!" "Yeah, yeah, yeah..." Roland scratched at his cast. "That's right, saddle me with newbies, then tell me I gotta make up fo' 'em!" Diangelo rolled his eyes. "How much time you gonna waste, standing there makin' like a bitch?" "Whyn't you go pork Stella an' let us git shit done 'round here, efficient like?" Roland rasped back. DiAngelo grunted. "There's a plan..." He stumped off. Roland swept his eyes over the pair. "Awright, Nate, you know where shit is -- no excuse. Le's git goin'!" The pair set to, with Roland making corrections in his inimitable manner, and they were soon on the road. ------- Dwayne was happy -- until he got home. Louise was a joy; all she seemed to want was to make him happy. And the sex -- wow! Dwayne's run-in with Darla Jean had left him with a certain amount of performance anxiety, but Louise had certainly changed that! She'd cum three times, washing his balls with a river of pussy juice each time -- so much that they had to strip her bed and wipe up the rug! You don't fake pops like THAT! No, Louise had a lot going for her -- one of the really nice pieces of which was her athleticism! Girls like Claudette -- or even Darla Jean -- looked nice now; they were thin and smooth, everything under control -- but let's face it, they got pregnant -- and after that, ninety five percent of them forgot all about exercise and turned into something that resembled pudding. Louise was round and smooth and solidly built -- and a bit thicker here and there than those skinny pin-up types -- but to FEEL her was to feel toned muscle! Her calves... She'd stood on her toes to get laundry soap off the top shelf and her legs went tight -- and Dwayne got chills! The girl had a SIX-PACK, for God's sake! You could see it when she came! Tuesday, they were gonna play tennis -- and Dwayne expected to get his ass whipped! One on one basketball was gonna be a bitch too! Dwayne wished he had seen Louise play field hockey; maybe she would go out for a team in college... It was in this distracted frame of mind that his mother caught him just inside the front door, "So, tell us all about Darla Jean Nevins!" "Who?" "You have sex with a girl in the Boys Locker Room and you don't remember her name?" "Uh... Wait a minute..." Dwayne made an effort to get his head together. In the background, his sister Becky was smirking. "Dammit, Becky!" "Hey, it's YOUR turn to sit in the hot seat!" his sister replied. "I've been there for HOURS!" "If you'd kept your big fat mouth shut in the FIRST place..." "That's enough, young man! SHE'S not engaging in irresponsible sex!" Dwayne's mother rasped. "I wasn't, either!" Dwayne retorted. "What do YOU call it? I don't know why you didn't go to jail for rape!" "STOP!!!" Dwayne yelled. "I had NOTHING to do with... Okay, I was there... Just hold on!" "I think maybe you'd better tell your side of the story, Son," his father interjected. "Yeah," Dwayne agreed, glaring at Becky. "Me, too!" "I'm waiting..." Donna Hansen glared at her son. "Okay, it goes something like this..." Dwayne sat down on a dining room chair. "Darla Jean -- for reasons known ONLY to her -- decided to start stalking me this week. Why, I dunno." He shrugged. "Wednesday night, she was there at basketball practice and Coach had to leave. I volunteered to lock up, and she stayed with me. One thing led to another, and the next thing I knew, we were having sex..." "Unprotected sex?" his mother accused. "No, Ma'am! We were using rubbers!" Dwayne shook his head. "You don't understand -- Darla Jean was driving! I'd have never managed to make it happen like that -- it was all her idea!" "Darla Jean said it was a rape!" Becky accused. Dwayne glared at his sister. "Oh, it was a rape, all right -- but I wasn't the rapist!" "Who was?" his mother sneered. "Darla Jean?" Dwayne rolled his eyes -- and ducked a swing from his mother for it. "Stop! Are you going to convict me before you hear ANYTHING but noises from that tattletale over there? LET ME FINISH!" By the end of this, he was holding his mother's forearm while she furiously attempted to extract it. "DONNA!" Mark Hansen roared. "THIS IS OUR SON! Act civil!" "I don't know if I want to claim him!" "Shut the Hell up and find out!" "Fine!" Dwayne let go of his furious mother's arm and she stepped back. "Now." Dwayne composed himself. "The rapist was Ted Phipps! He hid himself somewhere in the gym, and he waited until we were busy, then he forced himself on Darla Jean!" "Right!" Donna rolled her eyes. "Why didn't you stop it?" "Ted can be a real bastard," Dwayne replied. "He has a reputation. In a stand-up fight, I'd probably get my ass kicked -- and I was buck naked and, well, busy..." "So you just got yours and let Ted have his way," Donna sneered. Dwayne sat a moment, looking unhappy. "There's a lot of truth to that. I've been beating myself up over that for a few days -- but Darla Jean made the call, actually -- she wanted us to finish." "Do you HEAR yourself?" Donna sneered. "You're absolutely disgusting! What a tale! Darla Jean lured you into sex. Ted came in and had his way with her, but Darla Jean let it happen because she wanted you to finish! Who are you? Casanova?" Dwayne sat there, fuming. "This sucks! My OWN FAMILY treats me like this! Look, only one person can tell you how it happened! Darla Jean!" "Oh, right! Like I'm going to call that poor girl!" "No, you'd rather call ME a liar!" Dwayne roared. He got up and stomped toward the door, but Mark interposed himself. "Dad, dammit, I do NOT have to put up with this! It's an inquisition! There is no proof, and no interest in getting any!" "If you walk, Son, you're not coming back..." "Then I HAVE to be allowed to vindicate myself!" "He's right, Donna," Mark insisted over Dwayne's shoulder. "You're stringing him up over hearsay. And the police have NOT darkened our door..." "Look what he's asking!" "We'll approach it carefully." ------- "Hello?" Darla Jean picked up the phone on the eighth ring -- it NEVER rang on Sunday. "Darla Jean? This is Becky Hansen." "Hello," Darla Jean replied carefully. "Look, I'm Dwayne's sister..." "Uh huh..." "I'm hearing stuff at school. Stuff that makes Dwayne sound bad. Stuff about you..." "I really don't want to talk about it..." "Look, is Dwayne gonna get arrested?" "Huh? For what?" Darla Jean finally opened up. "That bastard Ted Phipps ought to, but I'd never get a conviction..." "Look, Dwayne's in a lot of trouble at home. I need to know things..." Becky entreated. "Okay." Darla Jean sighed. "It was all my fault. I chased Dwayne down and lured him into having sex with me." "Really? Why?" "If I told you, you'd think I'm some kind of slut or something. But trust me, I showed up out of the blue and did everything but stick it in me." Darla Jean didn't know she was on speaker; Donna was amazed -- and disbelieving. She waved at Becky, who got the hint. "That's kinda hard to swallow. How am I gonna convince my parents of that?" "I don't know if even the truth would do that," Darla Jean sighed. "You see, it was a science experiment, more or less..." "A what?" Everyone was taken aback, including Dwayne! "Yeah, I know. Look, Becky, you know I'm in honors classes, right? Science and math? Well, I do things a little different. Last weekend, I discovered sex -- and it was absolutely fabulous! But I didn't know whether it was sex in general, or it was the boy, you know? Was this guy really Superman, or was it the act itself? Could I do better? So I set out to get a statistical sample; Dwayne had a reputation as a median -- or maybe a bit less than median -- performer. So I chased him down to get one shot with him and see how it compared..." Donna was glaring at her son. How did he get this reputation, exactly? How many other girls had he had sex with? Still... "That's pretty weird," Becky opined. "Yeah, it is -- but it is the way I did it and it's the real reason. I can prove it -- but I'd prefer not to." "So, why am I hearing about a rape?" Darla Jean sighed. "We managed a set-up -- Dwayne got to lock up the gym. I got totally shameless, we got organized, and we were doing it, you know? Look, you can't blame a boy if a girl gets naked in front of him and says 'Let's do it... ' They're not really built to resist that -- and it's basically what I did. Anyway, we were busy, and Ted Phipps comes out of hiding and starts messing us over. Dwayne and I kind of made the call at the time by instinct, but it was the right one; Ted would have probably beat the crap out of both of us, and maybe even done something MORE dangerous! Besides, Dwayne and I were close to finishing, and I wanted my sample..." "You're kidding!" "I wish I was. I was all hot and I needed to finish -- so I encouraged Dwayne to go ahead and I put up with Ted until he was done. Then, of course, Ted had to take his turn... He's a real piece of work; on top of everything else, he's just NASTY! I didn't want him, but he wasn't going to leave -- and it WAS another sample..." Darla Jean paused. "Isn't this the damnedest thing you ever heard?" She was sniffling into the phone. "So Dwayne..." "Dwayne was an angel! He took care of me afterwards, and helped me clean up -- even cuddled me some to help me with the jitters! You tell your folks that bad things went down that night, but Dwayne wasn't one of them!" "They'll never believe this..." Becky murmured. "Look, I'll talk to them if I have to -- but I'd rather just put this behind me. I have a boyfriend now -- turns out it WAS the boy! -- and I just want this swept under the rug." "So, Dwayne..." "Dwayne's only guilty of being a boy. A NICE boy, actually!" "Well, thanks..." "Sure. Becky? Can we not have this go around? The experiment thing -- That would surely embarrass Dwayne, and it's not his fault..." "Sure. No problem. I'll try to keep that out of things at home, too." "Thanks loads! Bye!" Darla Jean hung up, relieved that the conversation was over. Mark Hansen puffed out a breath. "It appears you owe Dwayne an apology, Donna." ------- "Not yet I don't. Where did this reputation for being 'less than median' come from?" Donna was still sneering. "That's enough!" Mark growled. "You don't insult a man about his prowess -- especially if you don't know anything about it -- and you DON'T for DAMN sure!" "So, he's a man now?" "It appears so, from several measures..." "I STILL want to know!" Dwayne smiled wryly. "I can guess where the poor review came from. Last year. One of the cheerleaders got wild after an away game and took on all comers. There was... considerable peer pressure..." "Yeah, right!" Donna Hansen wasn't giving her only son ANY breaks! "I tried to apologize later," Dwayne added, "but she passed it off. Said something like, 'Next time, go twice -- maybe I'll remember you... ' She's gone -- she was a senior last year..." "Just the one?" Donna prompted. "There were... a couple of others," Dwayne admitted. "Look, if you're going to want to track my movements for the last four years, you're 'WAY too late!" "I trusted you!" Donna screeched. "To do what?" Dwayne returned. "I haven't hurt ANYBODY!" "So you say!" Donna jeered. "Where were you this morning -- with this Darla Jean, setting up your alibi?" "What?" Dwayne was nonplussed. "What IS it with you, Mom?" "THAT... IS... ENOUGH!!!" Mark roared. "Donna, apologize to your son! NOW!" "I WILL..." But Mark was glaring at her. "Oh, all right! I'm sorry!" Clearly, she wasn't. Mark nodded, but turned to Dwayne. "We still need to hear about this morning, Son." "Pop, I told you I was going to see a girl before I left. And I told you it was a different girl. None of that has changed." "Did you have sex, Son?" Dwayne shook his head. "Look, the trust is gone. Her mom is a piece of work who will have a fit if she even discovers I exist -- and now I can't bring her here, or really even talk about her. That really sucks." He got up and stalked out. Mark followed his son outside. "Son, your mother has a thing about guys who spread themselves around. She got burned pretty bad by a guy in school who was supposedly just hers, but was really dipping a lot of girls. The guy got some other girl pregnant, and there was a lot of fallout." "Pop, I never really messed with a girl who didn't put it out there on her own -- and I never lied to any of them. There really were only a couple, anyway, and they were looking to be, you know, my girl -- the popularity thing. It didn't work, and we parted ways -- and they weren't really surprised, anyway. You know what I mean?" "I think so. Low-grade stuff, looking for the brass ring?" "Yeah." "Still, your mom isn't really going to want to hear about it." "Okay, that's cool." It wasn't; an angry young man was talking. "But you know, I want to bring home the real thing, and I just can't, now." "The real thing? Since Wednesday?" "Pop, it ought to be clear by now that Wednesday wasn't a normal day!" "So you knew this girl before?" "Well, we weren't dating before." Dwayne shook his head. "Wednesday, well, kind of made me a new rep." Mark blinked. "As a rapist?" Dwayne got mad. "If Becky would bother to bring home a straight story every once in a while... No, Pop -- I picked up a rep as a nice guy who cared and treated girls nice and took care of them! Where the fuck WERE you for that phone call?" "Dwayne..." "Well, shit!" "Okay, okay! So, you go see a girl on a Sunday morning. Why?" "Because her mom is some kind of holy-roller who thinks if she breathes the same air as a boy she's gonna go to Hell, or something!" "So, her mother is at church?" "They both are, now." "Okay, so, she goes to church. That's nice. How many times have you seen her, since Wednesday?" Dwayne took a count. "Three. The first time wasn't so much a date as just me taking her home, but we hung out a while, first." "Hung out?" "Yeah. Talked. Okay, maybe smooched a time or two." "On the first date?" "You didn't kiss girls goodnight? C'mon, Pop!" Dwayne looked back toward the porch -- and found the Inquisition standing there. "Okay, so, you dated again..." "We went to the movies last night -- with another couple." Okay, it was a stretch, sort of. Actually, though, it WAS how it worked out... "Another couple..." sounded from the porch. "Yes, Mouth, why don't you get on the phone to your spy network and discover who was out at Gino's last night with Rob and Mary Eikenberry?" Dwayne sneered at Becky. "Rob and Mary?" Becky was incredulous. "Rob and Mary." Becky turned to her mother. "He HAS to be telling the truth! It's too easy to check! Heck, it'll be all over school tomorrow, anyway!" But she picked up her phone, anyway. "Okay, so, three dates, including this morning. That's not a lot, Son." "Well, we're not engaged..." "LOUISE!" Becky cut across the conversation. "Louise Bryant? Dorky dyke?" "Hey!" Dwayne shouted. "Well? Have you SEEN what she wears? Like something out of the old west or the fifties!" Becky turned to her mother. "She wears stuff that makes her shapeless from her neck to her ankles -- but I bet she's fat! She's GOT to be a dyke!" Dwayne started laughing, and he laughed so hard the tears rolled! Mark approached his son, "Are you all right?" "Yeah. Yeah," Dwayne raised up from the bent over position emptying his lungs left him in. "Sis, if you can't get it wrong, you don't even bother, do you?" "What do you mean?" "You're so superficial! Did you ever think that the way she dresses might be out of Louise's hands?" Dwayne shook his head. "Louise's mother is some kind of psycho holy-roller type who thinks all boys are demons and dresses her deliberately in stuff that makes her look bad!" "So she's a dyke, right?" Becky kept pushing. "Her mother might be, but Louise isn't," Dwayne replied. "Not even close, although she pretty scared of boys in general." He glared at his sister. "Obviously she gets a lot of help with that from other girls..." "So, about Sunday mornings..." Mark prompted. "It's the only time her mother is out of the house..." Dwayne replied, "and that means it is the only time I can visit her there." "Visit her for what?" Donna prompted. "For ANY purpose!" Dwayne replied. "But what did you do this morning?" "Why, nothing! She's a dyke, remember? That's what your perfect source of information says!" Dwayne grated. "Dwayne!" "No! This is over! It is none of your business! You don't trust me to do right, but you'll listen to her mixture of lies and prejudice -- even in the face of other information!" Dwayne spat. "I thought I had a family!" "But you're having sex with girls!" Donna screeched. "And you had sex with boys at my age, obviously!" Dwayne retorted hotly. "And I DON'T hear you asking HER to account for HER activities!" He pointed a finger at Becky. "Of course, she'd lie to you, anyway!" He turned for the truck, "I'm out of here!" "ENOUGH!" Mark roared. "The boy is right, Donna! You're painting him in dark colors and you have NOTHING to support it with! Boys his age have sex -- I did -- and so do girls! They date, they have relationships, and they get married, for Christ's sake! Lay off! Becky has been VERY busy spreading rumors -- and you're sucking them in, hook, line and sinker! What the Hell is your problem?" "I want to see this Louise," Donna sulked. "I don't think you've earned the right!" Mark retorted. "Mark!" Donna whined. "I've got a funny feeling Louise is a nice girl -- and NOT a dyke!" Mark replied. "Not that the two are mutually exclusive. Becky, aside from her wardrobe, do you have any evidence of her sexual preferences?" "No, Sir." Becky knew when it was time to shut up. "Okay. She's at church with her mother -- who doesn't know you exist?" Mark queried Dwayne. "Yes." "Do you know what church?" "No." "What do you know about it?" "Ummm, her mother had to leave at seven thirty to prepare for the first service, and she had to be there at eleven to attend a later one." "You figure they're kind of extreme?" Mark asked. "Well, her mother is -- but maybe the church isn't." "Let's go for a ride." Mark opened the passenger door of the pickup. "We'll be back," he told the women. ------- Chapter 57: Some Ugly Confrontations Teddy picked up Stick on his third lap around the block; he tended not to park -- it was an invitation to get noticed. "Hey." Stick hopped in. "Hi." They did nothing besides the greeting, which bothered Teddy a bit, but a lot of things weren't smart in THIS neighborhood. Besides, they really hadn't gotten to being demonstrative -- and maybe never would... "What did your Mama say?" "Well, it started out bad, but eventually it all shook out. She knows we're seeing each other, um, as a relationship..." "Like, for sex?" Stick queried. "Is that all there is to it?" Teddy shot back. Stick slumped in the seat, puffing out a sigh. How far DID they go? There were things that he felt comfortable about, but mostly that was about stickin' his dick in poor Ted. Swapping spit and that kind of thing embarrassed him, when he thought about Ted as a guy -- but he was easy to think of as a bitch... That was something they really needed to work out -- should he be treating Ted as a bitch? Was that right? And could Ted handle it if he wanted to do things that way? Finally, he grunted, "I don' think so, but we gotta talk about it. I'm kinda fucked up over it." Teddy shrugged. "Okay, that's fair..." Teddy was confused, too, actually. "Is today a good time?" "Might be..." The pair shelved it, however, until after their arrival at the Frick home. Stick met Ma Frick ("Call me Frieda,") a thick- bodied woman no taller than Teddy with eyeglasses and graying hair tied up in a bun. After a few pleasantries, however, neither could think of anything to say, so Frieda left the boys (that's how Frieda thought of them, anyway) in the living room. Exhibition baseball was on; the pair flopped on the couch to watch -- or pretend to. Stick had arrived in a sweatsuit -- well, sweatpants and a muscle shirt that exposed his narrow frame and bared his arms. Teddy was in jeans, and felt uncomfortable about it -- largely because he could see so much of Stick. "Hey, I'm gonna run upstairs and change -- these jeans are too tight." "Cool." Stick nodded and went back to the TV. Ted's crib was a lot nicer to hang out in than his own, and he didn't have to fight with the twins to hear TV, so he was luxuriating a bit. Only when Teddy returned, similarly dressed, did Stick start putting two and two together. Maybe they oughta have that talk..."Hey, Ted, about earlier. Look, I'm new to this stuff, you know? Some things I'm just not up for, yet." "Okay, like what?" "Well, swappin' spit's a problem. I don't see me getting' there unless I think of ya as a girl. An' I'm not sure you're up with that..." "You mean like act like a girl, dress like a girl..." Teddy frowned. "Scream and act silly and talk funny?" "No, it's more of a head thing -- my head. I just think of you bein' a chick. You don't hafta pretend to be one." "I dunno," Teddy replied. "I'm not sure kissing is important. I think I'd feel funny, too -- and I CAN'T think of YOU as a girl!" Stick shrugged. "Okay. What CAN we do?" Teddy squinted at the carpet. "Touch each other?" "Like how?" "Like at the movies the other night." "Like hugging? An arm around the shoulder? Mebbe rub your back?" "Yeah." Teddy's face said he wasn't sure, but it sounded good. "Shit, that's cool..." Stick waved Teddy over. Teddy seated himself, and Stick wrapped an arm around him. "How's that?" "It's... good..." Teddy nodded confirmation. "Cool with me..." Stick nodded, too. The two settled back to watch baseball. Once they had gotten past the 'don't touch me' barrier imposed by cultural homophobia, Stick wasn't really satisfied to just wrap his arm around Teddy's shoulders. The primary issue seemed to be the contrasts between the two young men; color aside, they were still physically very different. Stick was taller, narrower, and harder, more firmly muscled. Teddy was shorter and, by comparison, more softly fleshed. This was the kind of contrast that made for manual voyages of discovery; Stick started rubbing, first Teddy's shoulders, then his back, feeling the texture of his flesh. Teddy enjoyed the attention, and wanted to return it, but he wasn't in a position to rub Stick's back and shoulders. The only thing really in reach was Stick's leg... ... And that had an almost immediate effect. "Shit, Man, I'm getting' a boner! Sorry 'bout that..." Stick apologized. "It's okay," Teddy replied. "Actually, it's kind of a compliment." Stick thought about it. "Yeah, I guess. But it's kinda outside what we was tryin' to do..." Teddy shrugged. "Yes and no." "Okay." Stick dropped it. If Ted wasn't gonna get pissed, he might as well enjoy it. He put a bit more into the back rub, feeling around. Ted was just a little bit soft, just short of pudgy. Mary was softer, but she WAS pudgy -- and actually a ways beyond; it was something you dealt with, though, and Stick didn't really go there, mentally -- besides, it didn't change the fact that Ted was pleasant to rub on. Stick was getting a serious tent in his sweats, though. He hadn't bothered with underwear, so his pecker was unrestricted under the sweatpants, which were the drawstring type without a fly. Now it was stiff, running at about forty-five degrees because the fabric wouldn't let it climb any more -- and it was bothering him. "Shit, Man, my shit's like..." "Hurting? Looks uncomfortable." "Yeah." "I'll get it." Ted pulled the drawstring, which helped -- but he didn't stop there. Next, he lifted the waistband; Stick's cock rotated through the vertical and slapped his abs. "Better?" He lowered the waistband gently, since letting it snap would strike Stick's cock; when he was done, the tip stuck out. "Yeah, thanks." Both of them went back to what they were doing. Stick's cock fought the loosened waistband of his sweats any time Teddy's hand approached it, bringing a smile to his face. Soon, baseball was forgotten -- he was busy trying to see how long at a time Stick's cock could hold his waistband in the air. Stick gave him a look. "You havin' fun, drivin' my ass nuts?" "Yeah." "You break the fuckin' thing, we ALL lose out! Mary'll kick your ass!" Teddy giggled, reached in and grabbed a handful of cock. "How's that?" Stick hissed a breath, throwing his head back. "That's what I'M talkin' about!" "Raise up." Teddy was committed; he had a handful of warm meat, and he didn't want to let go. "What about your Mama?" But Stick raised his hips, anyway. Teddy pulled the sweatpants halfway down Stick's corded thighs. "She won't bother us, I don't think. Besides, you can always snatch them up..." "Yeah..." Stick had no willpower while Teddy worked the fat plum of his cock head with his palm. How do you fight pleasure like that? Stick's nuts were begging for relief, anyway; since he got going with Teddy and Mary he'd basically stopped beating off... "Shit, that's good!" Teddy began steadily jacking his meat, long-stroking it with his hand. "Fuck!" He slumped back against the couch, spreading his legs and letting Teddy work. "What if I bust a nut?" "I'll catch it," Teddy grinned. This was a lot of fun; the feel of Stick's cock in his hand was very satisfying, as was watching the look on Stick's face as he gloried in the attention, sucking up the sensations. "Like that?" "Love it! Only one thing better -- well, maybe two or three..." "... But I know what you're angling for," Teddy chuckled. He slid off the couch and went to his knees before it, not letting go of Stick's erection, glanced at the door -- and froze. "Oh, go ahead," his mother said in a strangled voice. "My fault..." She'd been standing there with a couple of cold sodas in her hand since the waistband loosening, unwillingly mesmerized. "Uh, Ma..." Teddy made to get up. "Don't." Frieda crossed the room and put the sodas on the table behind him. "You two were doing fine. I'm sorry I intruded." She put her hand on Teddy's back. "Go ahead. Nobody's forcing you. I'm kind of pleased that I got to see that for myself -- I was worried about it. But I can see that it's all very natural..." What she didn't mention was the fact that she was getting to see the object of Teddy's affection close up -- or the weird effect it was having on her. Teddy's penis had been an oddity -- besides, it was Teddy's. Stick's was, well, a good distance beyond her experience. It was twice as long as her husband's -- God rest his soul -- not to mention the pretty purple and black colors... And it brought feelings to her that she hadn't had in years! "I'll be running along," she choked out. "You boys have fun..." "Ma..." "Teddy, it's OKAY! Stick, don't let him get stupid, now! You two have fun!" Stick reached out and cupped the back of Teddy's head -- not dragging him in, just keeping him from backing off and getting up. "Relax, Man! Don't look a gift horse in the mouth! My Pop would shit a brick, and my Mama would probably throw a conniption! Everything's cool!" "Maybe." Teddy was troubled. Why was Ma being so accommodating? He watched her move slowly out of sight, looked up at Stick, bit his lip, shrugged, and lowered his mouth to Stick's bursting cock. Frieda stood just out of sight around the corner, getting her breath. Something about that whole scene had her totally caught up in it -- hot -- itchy about her womanhood in ways that hadn't surfaced in a long time! And Stick's reaction to her admonition not to let Teddy move had sent an unexpected flash through her -- something about the control... She knew better than to look right away; Teddy would be watching the door. But she could hear... "Uh, Ted?" "Mmmm?" "Look, this is uncool, but I gotta ask. How long has it been since your momma's been with a man, do you figure?" Teddy's eyes popped. Backing off, he asked, "Why on Earth... ?" Stick held up his hands. "Easy! Look, Man, she was lookin', okay? Like she was seein' somethin' she ain't seen before!" "Well, she wouldn't have seen a black one..." Teddy scratched his head. "And if she's seen ANYBODY, it's been a deep, dark secret. Since Dad died, she's been pretty much off the market. You don't think about that with your mother..." "Hey, I, uh, hate to ask..." Stick blurted, eyeing his meat significantly. "Oh! Sure..." Teddy started jacking him. "Gee, I guess that actually, you do... I mean, I don't think about her having sex with guys, but sometimes, when I jerk off..." Around the corner, Frieda's eyes popped. "Yeh," Stick agreed. "I think we all do that. After all, who is the chick we get closest to? My Mama is kinda chunky, like yours. Big, fat hooters. When you're lookin' at skin mags, well, they're nice, but they ain't real. Only ones I ever seen in action would be Mama's -- not that I ever seen 'em bare." "Yeah," Teddy agreed. "Sometimes in the summer Ma goes without a bra in those thin housedresses. I mean, those things are ugly, but in the right light, they're see-through..." "Yeah. Know what you mean. They wear them things and they don't even know." Frieda stood rooted. Events in the next room brought surprise after surprise! Teddy had lusted after her? Omigawd! "Ma just doesn't seem to have any interest in sex," Teddy related. "Not that I've seen. Stuff she sees on TV, she just shrugs and shakes her head." He paused, ruminating. "Come to think of it, something she said yesterday has me wondering. I guess Dad wasn't any too well hung -- like my size, without the head..." Stick shrugged. "That might explain it. That'd be pretty puny. Maybe your Dad wasn't any too good at it, you know? Lotsa women never ever cum, I hear. Shit, if you never cum, sex ain't anything great. Mebbe the only thing your momma ever got outta sex was you!" "That'd suck," Teddy replied, thinking about it. "Yeh. Uh, speakin' of suckin'..." "Greedy." Teddy grinned as he lowered his lips over Stick's length. "Aaaahhhh! Damn, that's good!" Stick groaned. "Mebbe it wasn't so much it was black -- she probly don't have no thing for bruthahs -- but if it was the biggest one she's ever seen..." Teddy popped up. "Maybe that's it. It's a nice enough one. If she'd only seen Dad's before..." He didn't mention his own. "Yeh," Stick agreed. "That's probly it. Sex Ed -- at your momma's age!" Teddy backed off with a pop. "And we're giving her the advanced course, when she hasn't had the basics! We need to be more careful..." Stick shrugged. "Mebbe she'll wake up an' get a life! She dresses like somebody's grandmaw..." "Hey!" "Dude, if she was out chasin' dick, she'd be colorin' her hair, at least! She's, like, totally off the market!" "What about YOUR ma!" Teddy pressed. "Mama has Pop to take care of her shit -- an' he does, too! Walls are too thin at my house..." Stick replied. Teddy giggled. "I bet THAT fueled some jerk-off sessions!" "No shit!" Stick replied. "Now, will you PLEASE..." "Whiner!" "You don't want it?" Teddy started bobbing. "Thought so. Damn, you're good at that!" "Mmmm mmm." "Shit! Any time you wanna hum like that..." Teddy started humming 'Home on the Range': "Mmmmmm mm mm mm mmmmmmmmmm..." "Oh, Man! You're killin' me!" Frieda's feet were moving; she couldn't seem to stop them. They were moving slowly, but that was to keep things quiet... 'I shouldn't be here -- this is some kind of perversion... ' Heck, it was SEVERAL kinds of perversion, but the past five minutes had been just amazing... She peeked around the doorjamb. Teddy had a handful of that monster erection that the black boy sported, and was bobbing his head over several inches above that! Hubby -- she remembered holding his length in one hand and running her thumb over the tip -- something that drove him wild! It had been better than getting all worked up and having him go nuts between her legs for about thirty seconds... After she became pregnant with Teddy, she very seldom let things go that far -- it was too high a price to pay! But she'd never thought to suck on the thing -- what was Teddy going to do with the mess it made? From ten or twelve feet, the whole thing was simply amazing -- God, she wished she could get closer! She actually stepped through the door -- and the black boy turned and looked right at her! She froze... "Hey, Man, mebbe we shouldn'ta run your momma off!" Stick suggested, turning his attention back to Teddy so as not to telegraph her presence. "What?" Teddy blurted. "You want to fuck Ma, or something?" "You miss the point, Man! She needs to learn! She can get her own dick, once she realizes she wants some. I got you, an' I got Mary -- that's plenty!" Stick assured Teddy -- and Frieda, too, back-channel. "Hey, you think she plays with herself?" Gurk! "What?" "Well, she ain't getting' any dick..." "I think she's shut down. You want me to finish this?" "Yeah." "Then stop driving me nuts with stupid questions about Ma's sex life!" Teddy nipped Stick. "Ow! Hey!" Stick sat up. "Remember where that thing is when you talk about my Ma!" Teddy warned. "Okay, okay!" Stick settled back, looked. Teddy's Ma was still standing there with that dazed look on her face... Teddy started going to town on his hard-on, and his momma was burning holes in the air, trying to see; Stick started getting that feeling that said he was gonna hit his peak. "I'm close, Man! I'm gonna blow!" Frieda watched intently. What was Teddy going to do with that white slop? Maybe she should go get him a towel... In her daze, she forgot that she wasn't supposed to be there... Teddy just raised a hand in acknowledgement. Stick started getting really agitated, hunching forward, waving his arms; obviously, he wanted to grab Teddy's head and poke his penis down his throat, but was restraining himself. Frieda remembered Hubby getting this excited, and what it meant... "Yeah! Yeah Oh, shit! I'm gonna juice, man! Take it! Take it all! YEAAAAHHHH!!!!" Stick virtually hunched himself into a ball while his nuts crawled up in their sack, then he let go the first gusher, "AWWWWW JEEEZUS!" Frieda watched the black boy lurch, amazed. Even more amazing was watching Teddy -- he was SWALLOWING that stuff! Frieda was horrified! Wouldn't that hurt her boy? Stick clutched and jerked a half-dozen times -- just like Hubby used to when he squirted -- or 'came', as he called it -- then settled back. "That was awesome, Dude! As usual. You gotta train Mary -- she just doesn't get it!" Teddy swallowed, turned, and collected a soda -- fortunately away from the door! Sipping, he said, "Give her a break! She doesn't know what it feels like! And she hasn't caught on that you should fuck with your mouth..." "Yeah," Stick agreed. He was afraid to look at the door, now. Teddy's Ma might STILL be standing there, looking stupid... "She don't have a guy's perspective, I guess." "She does fine for me," Teddy argued, "but then, I'm not normal, being so short and fat..." "Yeh..." Stick REALLY wanted to look; did Teddy's Ma know what his cock looked like? "Well, at least she knows about fuckin'." "Yeah," Teddy agreed. "If I wasn't so thick, I wouldn't be much of a ride at all! You're probably right about Ma -- Dad probably couldn't please her. That's sad..." Teddy shook his head. "I mean, they had sex -- I'm here. But if he just climbed on and squirted..." "Yeh. Like a rabbit, or sumpthin. No fun for the woman..." Frieda got out of there. Initially, it was inch by inch, but the speed slowly ramped up to the point that when she hit the back door, she was almost running! She went to her 'quiet place', a bench under a tree in the back corner of her little garden, and sat down to try to absorb everything she'd seen and heard. First, boys -- almost EVERY boy, apparently -- lusted after their mothers at one point or another. This was a powerful temptation, given the OTHER things she'd learned... Second, Hubby had been embarrassingly poorly equipped for sex. From the way the boys were talking, she had missed out on something thereby. Apparently, young Stick approximated the average for penile growth. Both boys had sex with the girl Mary, and she apparently found some way to enjoy it. They apparently both felt sorry for her because she had not experienced whatever it was that Mary (and perhaps some other girls of their acquaintance) had. Third, boys masturbated -- apparently as often as the infamous Dr. Ruth insisted -- and they believed that girls did, too -- and expected that, again, she was missing out on something. As for the thing that Teddy did for Stick, apparently that was not unusual, either -- and not just a gay thing. Obviously, Mary did it, but she lacked some understanding of the nuances. When you thought about it, it made sense that a boy would know what felt good to a boy... Frieda was embarrassed about it, but she really, REALLY wanted a good look at Stick's... member. For some reason, just looking at it produced an odd longing... Apparently her body knew something her head didn't. Come to think of it, her behavior during the whole episode in the living room had been compulsive, obsessive, or both. If anyone had told her that she would act like that, she would have laughed in his or her face! As it was, she had no idea how she was going to face young Stick again... ------- "This would be my number one choice," Mark Hansen murmured as they drove past the meticulously painted little cookie-cutter white clapboard church. "Think they're out yet?" "Pop, what are we doing?" Dwayne asked. "We're looking for your girlfriend and her mother -- that's what we're doing!" Mark replied. "Why?" "I want to see 'em. God knows whether you'll get a break from your mother, but I think I can make up my own mind..." "She's gonna look godawful," Dwayne warned. "If she's with her mother, she'll be in a sack dress, wearing a bra that's two sizes too small and is squashing her..." "And how do you know that?" his father asked archly. "I've seen her in different clothes," Dwayne answered lamely. "Son, have you seen her without clothes?" "Pop!" "Why won't you just tell me?" "Because it isn't right! And YOU taught me that!" Mark nodded. THAT was a good answer. "Hey, somebody's comin' out the side door." Dwayne took a look; two women, one older, one younger, dressed nearly identically in shapeless dresses that extended from their necks to their ankles. Dwayne squinted. "Yeah. That's Louise. I don't know for sure about the other one..." "Okay, pull over there." "Why?" Dwayne did as he was asked, anyway, but couldn't see where any good was going to come of it. "Some things you go straight at, Son." ------- "What is up with you today?" Helene Bryant bitched. "Why are you so slow? And I swear you're waddling or something..." "It's nothing," Louise lied. The reality had everything to being stiff and sore as a result of her little sexual escapade -- something Mother could NOT be allowed to guess... "My pad is slipping, and it's binding me a bit..." 'THAT will kill any curiosity Mother has... ' "That's disgusting!" her mother replied, totally predictably. "Can't you do anything right?" "Excuse me." Two men had crossed the street and now approached the women. Helene Bryant didn't know either of them from Adam, but Louise experienced shock! "Miz Bryant?" "Yes?" Helene's voice was frigid. "How may I help you?" "My name is Mark Hansen," the older of the pair announced, "and this is my son Dwayne." "And?" Helene found herself wondering if she looked like a sucker. Christian charity was one thing, but... On the other hand, they didn't LOOK like panhandlers... 'Tough bitch. Bitter, ' Mark assessed his opponent. The hair she had pulled back in a bun was graying and had obviously never seen dye. Frown lines were deeply etched in the face, whose natural expression appeared to be righteous anger. Apparently Dwayne was right... He flicked a glance at the younger of the pair, discovering her to be much more sweet- faced, her complexion a soft brown. She looked scared to death, but there was hope there... "I thought that we should discuss parental concerns," Mark said carefully. "You see, my son is looking for permission to date your daughter." "What?!" Helene was rocked. "Well, he can get in line with all of the other horny little scumbags!" she snarled, recovering. "There is no line, Mother," Louise declared, "but if there was, Dwayne would be at the front!" Attacked from the rear, Helene spun on her daughter, examining her as if she'd suddenly sprouted two heads. Then anger surfaced, and she aimed a roundhouse slap at Louise. "How DARE you speak like that to me!" Louise ducked -- and Mark deflected the sweeping arm. "What's this?" "I am disciplining my daughter -- something I'll thank you not to interfere with!" Helene announced haughtily. "It looked like an assault to me," Mark observed. "Spare the rod, and spoil the child!" Helene quoted -- or maybe misquoted. She turned her glare on her daughter. "I suppose that you know this... person..." "Yes, Ma'am," Louise replied carefully, "We know each other." "And were you aware of this?" "Well," Louise temporized, "I didn't expect his parents to make a formal request. That's nice, don't you think? Isn't that an indication that Dwayne is a nice boy?" Louise gambled shamelessly that if she could get her mother to think about it, this incident would be a positive thing... Her mother turned her glare on Dwayne, measuring him -- and, predictably, finding him wanting. "Not necessarily. It merely proves that he possesses a certain amount of audacity." A new thought occurred. "These things don't happen without a build up -- are we closing the barn door after the horse has escaped? Were you with HIM last night instead of being with your suddenly new girlfriend? You SLUT! Have you spread your legs for him already?" Louise hesitated -- and was lost. To be fair, the thought that flickered through her mind was that her mother would conduct a gynecological exam on her as soon as they got home, in any case -- and the evidence would be clear. But the hesitation was damning... "You DID!" Helene screeched. "You little bitch! After all I've done for you! You disgusting little SLUT!" Helene grabbed Louise and shook her so hard her teeth rattled. Whirling, she pushed Louise into Dwayne, causing both to collapse to the sidewalk. "Take her! You've despoiled the little slut -- you can take responsibility for her! You'll find her things on the step in a cardboard box later today! I don't ever want to see the little bitch again!" With that, Helene stomped off. Louise collapsed against Dwayne and began to cry; Dwayne immediately took up the gauntlet, comforting her, hugging her. "There, there, Honey. She'll cool down and this will blow over. It'll be all right..." Mark stood there, watching the whole mess, amazed. Helene Bryant stomped around the corner, never looking back, while Dwayne cuddled her daughter and absorbed her tears. "If this isn't the damnedest thing..." "I knew that this was going to happen," Louise sniffled. "There really wasn't ever any other ending; Mother was never going to let me see a boy. But I'd hoped that we would get farther, first..." "Do people in your religion HAVE children?" Mark asked Louise. "Only hypocrites, in Mother's opinion," Louise replied. "And HER religion isn't necessarily what comes from the pulpit -- although I could stand to do without THAT, too!" She sniffled a bit. "I'm really sorry about this -- I'll run along, now." She made to get up. "And go where?" Dwayne asked, clutching her to him, refusing to allow her to stand. "She's serious, isn't she?" "Well, yeah," Louise agreed. "I'm probably out of the house for a couple of days, at least. And she'll probably break half of my stuff while she packs it..." She pushed her bangs back. "I'll go to church, and they'll put me up for a while..." "No, you won't, either!" Dwayne declared. "Your mother passed responsibility for you to me -- and I'm good with that!" He swung eyes like shotgun barrels on his father. "Pop?" Mark was between a rock and a hard place -- he'd triggered the confrontation. Still, there was an item to be clarified... "You two have had sex?" "Yes." The answer was unanimous, but Louise carried it forward, "It was my fault, really -- I made it very clear this morning that I wanted it. It was my first time -- Mother is probably going to hit the roof again when she finds my bedclothes in the washer. But if I'd lied, it wouldn't have lasted any longer than it took to get home, because Mother would have insisted on checking me..." Mark shook his head. "That's a crock... She'd have really checked to see if you were still, ummm... ?" "Yessir. I probably wouldn't have made it that far, come to think of it. She was already ragging on me for waddling, and she's not stupid." Louise flashed a glance at Dwayne. "I'm a little sore..." Dwayne blushed. Mark rubbed his forehead. "Get in the truck." "Yessir." Dwayne released Louise and she was up like a shot, lifting her skirts clear of a pair of athletic calves so she could run to the pickup. Mark watched her. "Your mother is gonna kill us both..." He shook his head. "You'll be DAMN sure responsible for her as far as SHE's concerned!" Dwayne smiled crookedly. "Yeah." Mark rolled his eyes. "Go get in the damned truck!" Dwayne walked to the truck and got in the driver's side; Mark eyed the pair as he circled around front. As soon as Dwayne was settled, Louise plastered herself to him and started glowing. "Jeezus." This could get complicated. What if they turned out to not be a couple? Well, it didn't seem likely at the moment... He got in. "Let's go. Better swing by her house." Louise's smile dimmed quite a bit at that... Dwayne did as he was told, but it was obviously a wasted effort. They parked down the block and watched Helene arrive -- and things started flying out the front door onto the porch almost immediately. Mark just could not believe that anyone could be so vicious! "Is she like this all the time?" "Well..." Louise hedged. "Not ALL the time... I've slept in the cellar a few times, though..." Mark eyed her. "Locked in?" Louise wouldn't respond -- and wouldn't meet his eyes. "Still, I figure we must've hit a hot button..." "She's never done THIS before," Louise admitted. "But she's been getting worse and worse. Things used to be a lot better, but lately, well, it's like she's been waiting for this..." "Self-fulfilling prophecy kind of thing?" Mark guessed. "Yessir. Other girls in church..." Louise trailed off. "Reading the writing on the wall, was she?" Louise nodded. "They'd get married, or Mother would come home cackling about some scandal -- and then yell at me for a while, making threats. I've ruined her at church, when it gets out -- at least, that's how she'll feel about it..." She nerved herself, "I'll go talk to her -- maybe she'll settle down..." "We'll wait," Dwayne announced, locking eyes with his father. Mark chose not to argue; he got out and held the door while Louise worked her way past him. Then he climbed back in and settled in to wait. "Sounds like she catches quite a bit at home." "Yeah." It could have been exaggeration -- but the evidence said otherwise. "She's pretty meek; she brings out the protective instinct in me." Mark grunted. "Didn't know you had one." "Me either." Louise trudged up the hill like she was headed for a gibbet; Mother was unlikely to cool down any time soon, given her recent behavior. But she needed to try, for Dwayne and for his nice father... The porch was littered with all kinds of things; stuffed animals seemed to be the only items that were surviving being thrown out the door, which was propped wide open. Louise ducked as her alarm clock whizzed by. Apparently, it was the first installment of an armload; her mother approached the door, ranting and raving, caught sight of Louise and tossed the rest onto the porch. "What do YOU want?" "Mother, it isn't that bad..." "It's WORSE! How long have I been trying to instill some morality in you? Answer me that!" She cocked her head suspiciously, "Where are your bedclothes?" "In the wash..." Helene went absolutely purple. "Under MY OWN ROOF! You shameless SLUT! Get out of my sight! Take this crap and LEAVE!" "Mother, I can't go anywhere -- there aren't any clothes here..." Clothing was conspicuous by its absence on the trash heap." "SLUTS don't WEAR clothes!" Helene screeched. "In fact, sluts shouldn't have ANY clothes!" Quick as a rattlesnake, Helene whipped out a hand and snatched at the bodice of Louise's baggy dress, shredding it. Louise lurched backward and Helene chased her out into the yard, slapping at her. "Get out of my sight! Come back after dark for your things, like the low-life you are! I don't want to ever see you again!" Louise ran, clutching her ripped dress. Helene picked up the broken alarm clock, hurled it after her, and returned to the house, slamming the front door behind her. "Holy shit!" Dwayne exclaimed. "Damn!" Mark had never seen anything like the scene that unfolded up the block in his life! "That woman's insane!" Louise was pelting down the block, crying her eyes out and clutching her torn dress. "Go get her -- I'll drive!" He got out and circled the truck. Dwayne had already hit the pavement, running. He collected Louise, who ran smack into him, blinded by her tears, and cuddled her to him. Louise burrowed in and Dwayne spent the next couple of minutes slowly moving her toward the truck while cuddling her and rubbing her back, waiting for the worst of her crying to subside. Slowly, things settled back to a sniffle and she became more pliant. "Come on, let's go," Dwayne directed, releasing her but directing her up into the cab. Louise turned and stumbled aboard obediently, then reversed herself and glued herself to Dwayne as he got in. ------- Draper nudged Nate on his way back to the truck. "Hey, don't those two look familiar?" There was a pair of guys unloading another truck, two vehicles down the loading dock. "Yeh." Nate squinted. "Ain't that the Weasel? And Tank McGovern? What the Hell are THEY doin' unloadin' a truck at a supermarket?" Tank and the Weasel were low-end dope dealers whose area of operations fringed on Nate and Draper's neighborhood; they didn't normally stoop to actual work... "Weird. Who they unloadin'?" Draper took a look. "Staffordshire Farms..." "Competition, I think," Nate murmured. He wandered over to Roland. "Ain't Staffordshire the competition?" "Yeah. Why?" "We're noticin' somethin' weird..." "Other than the fact that their crap gets four times the shelf space that ours does?" Roland grunted. "Yeah. Maybe. Be right back." Nate wandered over to where the other truck was being unloaded and pretended to be stacking things. Tank and the Weasel were busily unloading under the watchful eye of the driver. After a couple of minutes, the driver grunted, "We're about done. Box thirteen." Weasel collected the box -- but didn't stack it with the others. Instead, he handed the driver a wad of cash, and he and Tank left, carrying the box. The driver took the cash, peeled a few bills off the roll, and approached the warehouse manager, handing him the peeled off bills. "Well, what do ya know..." Nate mused. Roland was waiting; they were done, having less to unload. "Le's git outta here," he grunted. "Can we follow the Staffordshire truck?" Nate asked. "Why?" Roland wanted to know. "Mos' places don' want us to arrive together..." "There's something up with it, Man. Money changing hands. Dope dealers unloading trucks." "No shit?" Roland's eyebrows went up. "Yep." "Awright. Let's get to their next stop first..." Roland signaled and changed direction. ------- Mark Hansen hit his front door, moving quickly. "Donna!" "Yes?" Donna was still pissed off from the earlier incident, and she allowed it to show. Mark frowned. "Put on your company face -- you get your wish." Turning, he waved Dwayne and a girl through the door. "This is Louise. Get used to her -- she might be hanging out here for a while. REBECCA!!!!" Donna stood there gawking at the girl holding the top of her frumpy dress together. "Uhhh..." Dwayne was glaring at her over the girl's shoulder. "Hello..." There was a series of thumps and Becky appeared at the top of the stairs. "Pop?" "Louise, here, has a problem with her dress. You two are at least sort of close in size; see if you can help her..." Mark directed. "Uh, sure..." Becky stood blinking. "Hi, Louise. C'mon up to my room..." 'What the fuck?' Louise directed a fearful glance at Dwayne, who nodded. "She won't bite -- but don't believe any gossip she tells you." He directed a glare at his sister. Louise nodded and moved to the stairs. Becky waited until she got to the top, then turned, waving her to follow. "What happened to you?" she asked as they moved out of earshot. Donna turned to Mark. "What DID happen? Who tore her dress?" "You'd never believe it," Mark shook his head. "I wouldn't have, but I saw it..." He sighed. "Dwayne said her mother was Hell on Wheels -- I didn't really believe it, and I wanted to see for myself. Turns out he under-represented her. I figured I'd get her to look on Dwayne favorably by making a request on his behalf -- come to find out males of any stripe just weren't welcome. Things went to Hell in a hand basket in no time; the woman started jumping to conclusions -- and unfortunately, they were the correct ones." Mark arched an eyebrow at his son. "Basically, she disowned the girl, right then and there. We tried to take her home, and the woman threw stuff at her, tried to beat her and ripped her dress." "My God!" Donna exclaimed. She turned on Dwayne. "See what this kind of thing breeds?" "Hold on!" Mark interceded. "In the FIRST place, Louise made it clear that she invited Dwayne, specifically, to do what he did." He looked at his son. "Maybe you'd better tell your mother just exactly what that was..." Dwayne sucked in a deep breath. "Louise um, presented me her virginity." "She WHAT? And you took it?" Donna was nonplussed. "Look, I could spend two weeks explaining myself, but it boils down to the fact that I told her that I was not going there until and unless she basically offered me a printed invitation. I won't go into details, but it was engraved in gold, not just printed... She offered me her most precious gift -- and I accepted it. To do anything less..." "I'll believe that smoke screen when I hear it from HER!" Donna said flatly. Mark grinned. "I already have!" He sobered. "I recommend that you pay some attention to how your son just phrased his response. If you offered a boy your virginity and he passed on it, how would you feel? And would you expect to actually HAVE a relationship afterward?" "She TOLD you that?" "Absolutely. I spent an hour trying to get Dwayne to admit to something -- but HE doesn't kiss and tell! On the other hand, she admitted responsibility right off, and said that she asked for it." "When?" "This morning. Our instincts were good." Mark grunted. "So, now we have..." Donna began. "I'm not sure what YOU have, but I have a girlfriend -- and I'm responsible for her welfare!" Dwayne piped up. "Something you're not prepared to handle!" Donna shot back at her son. "WE have a houseguest -- for a few days, at least." Turning to her husband, she added, "I don't suppose this is going to blow over any time soon?" Mark shook his head. "You should have seen it. The woman should be put away, in my opinion!" He shrugged. "I guess we'll see..." Donna sighed. "Would this have happened if you hadn't horned in?" "You caused THAT!" Mark replied, "but, no, probably not. They'd have gone on sneaking around for a while, at least. The time bomb was there, but I set it off." Upstairs, Becky was questioning Louise, "Who tore your dress?" "My mother." Louise replied shortly. "Well, get out of it, and I'll see what I can do to help..." Becky replied. "Why did she do that?" "I made her very angry." There was a pause while Louise worked her way out of the dress, which left her in a half-slip, a bra, panties, ankle socks and her flats. "Jeez, doesn't that hurt?" Becky gasped. Louise was obviously being squashed by her bra... "You get used to it -- but it isn't fun." Louise dimpled. "Your brother asked me the exact same question." "Why don't you let 'em out?" "Can I? I don't want to embarrass anyone..." "Hey, no problem, really. It's just us girls..." 'Oops! What if she's a dyke?' Becky stepped around behind Louise and undid the hooks. "That's ridiculous! Why don't you buy stuff that's the right size?" "My mother wants me... deemphasized," Louise related, embarrassed. She turned around. "Holy shit! No wonder!" Becky blurted. "If my brother gets an eye on those..." She picked up on Louise's Mona Lisa smile. "Oho!" "Uh huh..." "Wow! They're nicer than mine. Who'd have thought..." "Yeah." The monosyllable contained a world of rejections. "Okay, what do you want to wear? Maybe you ought to shuck out of that slip and the shoes and socks..." 'Gawd, those are ugly shoes!' "Okay." That left Louise in a gawdawful pair of 'granny panties' -- but Becky could see clearly that she'd been taken in by the awkward outfits that Louise regularly wore. "Jeez, Louise! You're a stone fox! Why do you wear that awful crap?" "My mother wanted me, um, off the market." "That sucks! How do you meet boys?" "I didn't. Until Dwayne." Becky picked up the rag that had been a dress, sort of. "So what happened? Why would your mom do this to you?" "That's the least of it," Louise sighed. "I've been kicked out of the house!" "What on Earth did you do?" "I had sex with Dwayne." "Holy shit!" Becky took off up the hall. ------- "Let's see if we can put her in with Becky..." Donna suggested. "They've had sex!" Becky shrieked from the top of the stairs. Dwayne flinched. His mother rolled her eyes. "Thank you. We knew that. Now go do what I told you." "I can't do too much for her," Becky replied. "She's at least an eight. And she needs a better bra -- hers is about two cup sizes short." She turned on her brother. "Big brother is a wolf! There is a stone fox under that granny garb! How did you sniff her out?" Dwayne rubbed his forehead. "Thanks again, Sis. I had help. From her -- and a couple of others." "You make it sound like SHE wants YOU!" Becky grimaced. "Why on Earth would SHE want YOU?" Dwayne gave in to exasperation. "Lend her some sweats or something so she can come back downstairs, willya?" "No problem, Wolf Man!" Becky cackled and sped back up the hall. ------- "Why did you DO that?" Louise demanded. "Are you kidding?" Becky cackled. "That stuff is a gift from the gods! Anyway, Dwayne suggested sweats or something..." Becky's eyes flashed. "Hey, ever wear a crop top? With those..." She grinned and started digging in drawers. "What I can't understand is why you'd have sex with Dwayne! EWWW!" Louise smiled. "I guess little sisters aren't really equipped to appreciate some of their big brother's better qualities. It was wonderful, actually. And now that I'm no longer a virgin, I expect the next time to be even better!" Becky's eyes popped and her jaw dropped, "No longer a..." She turned for the door. Louise grabbed her arm, "They know THAT, too!" "Oh," Becky sighed. "Bummer." "You two have real feud going!" Louise observed, slipping into the blouse. "Yeah. Right now, I'm up on points..." Becky grinned. "Here, put these on." She fished out a pair of red shorts. "Shuck out of the panties -- they won't fit underneath." She turned to Louise and blinked. "Jeezus! You don't shave that briar patch? Clip it or something?" "Uh, no..." Louise colored. "What did Dwayne say?" "He likes it." "Another surprise! Well, get dressed..." ------- "Okay," Donna announced. "For now, Louise stays with Becky -- and YOU, Young Man, will sleep downstairs on the couch!" "What?" Dwayne exclaimed. "Why?" "Do you think I'm going to let you sleep upstairs -- right next door to her? Obviously, you have no self-restraint..." "I don't get it," Dwayne replied. "I've been hanging here for eighteen years, with you and Becky, and I don't remember doing anything too objectionable -- but suddenly, I have fangs, or something! Besides, Louise is... different. She's... important to me. You act like I rushed out and took advantage of her -- that I was just looking to get laid! Well, it just didn't..." Something caught his eye; he looked up and his eyes widened. More important, his face lit up! Donna looked back over her shoulder. At the head of the stairs stood Louise, in a top that wasn't much above and barely extended below her breasts, exposing a muscular golden brown midriff over a pair of red shorts that were too tight for her muscular thighs. Donna took one look and screeched "Rebecca!!!!" "Yes?" Becky's voice was innocence personified -- but her face, appearing behind Louise, was a mask of unholy glee. "Get her into something with a bit more coverage, Young Lady!" "Oh, all right!" Becky tugged on Louise's arm. "C'mon. Did you SEE his FACE?" She cackled happily. "What a picture!" Below, Mark's attention had been collected when Dwayne's was. 'Holy shit! A bod like that -- and muscles?' "Swimming?" he murmured to Dwayne. "Field hockey." "Damn." "Boys!" Donna was glaring. ------- "Here, put this on..." Becky handed Louise a purple sweatsuit. "This should hold you." She giggled. "Big brother lit up like a Christmas tree!" Louise, halfway into the sweatpants, smiled fondly. "Yes..." "Oh, shit! You're really into the big dork, aren't you?" "Uh huh." "Pitiful." Becky shook her head. "Come on." "There you are!" Mark interrupted Donna's latest tirade over the men's reaction to Louise's appearance. "Why don't the three of you go in the other room and watch some TV. Your mother and I have to make some plans." Becky led off; Louise collected Dwayne's hand and the couple followed. "How long are we going to have to support this?" Donna asked. "I don't know. It's an explosive combination. They're NOT going to stay apart," Mark pointed out. "Don't I know it! Did you see his face?" Donna asked. "Did you see hers?" Mark replied. ------- Irma Nally looked around carefully before getting out of her car. 'Nasty looking neighborhood... ' It was no surprise, given the kind of people who lived here... It had taken some thought and planning to collect the black boy's telephone number and link it to an address, but here she was... In the door and up the stairs, to the sound of some raucous and vulgar rap music, to apartment 4A. There was a knock at the door. Grumbling, Thurnock Williams got up from his recliner in front of the round ball game and threw open the door -- and blinked in surprise. 'Big fuckin' fat white bitch... ' "Rose! Somebody at the door for ya!" But then the stupid bitch started talking... "Mr. Williams? Are you the Mr. Williams with a son named Stick? Is that really his name? Stick?" "It ain't -- but you ain't told me why I should tell you what it IS yet!" Pop grunted. "What're you sellin'?" The fat bitch blinked. "Why nothing. I've come to appeal to your better nature." "What if I ain't got one? Who the fuck are you, anyway?" By then, Rose was standing there. The fat bitch looked unsurprised. "My name is Irma Nally. Your son, Stick, is seeing my daughter. May I come in?" Against his better judgment, Pop Williams backed up. The fat bitch came in, looked around distastefully, and settled herself on the couch. This didn't fly with Pop -- Rose kept a clean house, what there was of it. "Okay. So. What you want with me?" "I want you to take steps to prevent your son from seeing my daughter!" Irma announced. "They're having sex, you know..." Pop squinched up his face, thinking. "This'd be Mary, right? Why? She got AIDS or somethin'? Why should I mix in shit if she can't keep her legs closed 'round my boy?" 'This isn't going well, ' Irma thought. 'I shouldn't be surprised, I guess.' Disgust slipped out again before she masked her features. "I would think that you would want your son looking for women within your... culture. And I would prefer that Mary look for boys within hers..." "We talkin' culture or race, here?" Pop bridled. "You fill your young'uns with white racist shit an' I'm s'posed to fill mine wit' black racist shit? Is that it?" "Well, no," Irma lied. "Obviously, Mary has no objection to sex with a black boy -- but I do! I don't think it's right!" "An' why not?" Pop countered. "She fucks around anyway, don't she? That's what I hear!" Irma grimaced. "Given her... issues, I encouraged her to be a bit more open in order to attract boyfriends -- or I looked the other way, at least -- but this is going too far! Wild parties with TWO boys... !" "This that Ted? You talk to his folks, too?" "Indeed I did!" Irma confirmed. "She was a bit easier to find than you were... If it was just Teddy, things might be different, but I can't have my daughter cavorting with blacks!" "So it's okay she fucks around wit' pinky white boys?" Pop countered. What I hear, this Ted ain't got enough dick to keep her happy! Mebbe she should drop HIM!" "Absolutely not!" Irma got red in the face. "My daughter will NOT spend her life as a milk cow for some lazy black in a squalid project like this one! I won't have her captive, spreading herself for his friends with loose morals! I just won't!" "Bitch, you got serious balls comin' in here an' talkin' shit like that to me an' my wife! You better git your ass outta here, before I slap it around some for ya!" Pop ranted. "Fine!" Irma replied coldly, rising. "But while you're at it, maybe you should think about what those two boys are doing? You know, I was pretty sure that Teddy's queer -- and I don't think I've actually SEEN Stick actually having sex with Mary..." "What?" Pop flipped. "You sit your ass down! NOW we got somethin' to talk about! Rose, gimme the phone!" ------- "Hullo?" Stick's phone rang, and he picked it up. Teddy muted the TV. "Boy? Where the fuck are ya? Are ya with that pinky white boy you're puttin' the horns on?" "Pop? Uh, yeah..." "Have him drag your ass home. Mebbe he oughta bring his folks, too!" "What's up, Pop?" "I got this big fat white bitch sittin' here in my livin' room, insultin' the fuck outta me an' your mother. Claims she's your cunt's mama. That cunt as big as this one?" "No, Pop. Not quite..." "Well, she's givin' me shit about how I should get in the way 'cause the little slut cain't keep her legs closed around black dick," Pop continued. "But now she's sayin' other shit -- shit I wanna hear answers for, from you an' pinky boy Ted." Stick looked to the skies for help, but didn't see any. "Okay, Pop. We're comin'." "While you're at it, call your cunt an' have her over, too -- and have her bring her old man; I wanna see what he says about how this bitch acts!" 'Shit!' "Okay, Pop. I'll call her." "You git her ass here, if ya have to roll it up the street!" Pop hung up. "You bastard!" Irma screeched. "I know botha my folks, thank you!" Pop replied smugly. "That'd make you the only one on your block!" Irma made to rise again. Pop pushed her back down onto the saggy couch. "Sit yer ass down! You started this -- you're gonna hang out for the whole damn thing -- including commercials!" "You can't hold me here!" "Fuckin' breaking and entering, assault -- shit, I can call the cops and have 'em haul your ass to jail! An' if real shit ain't good enough, I'll make up some!" Turning to his wife, he added, "Take them two yammerheads to one o' your girlfriends for a while. This is adult shit." "Are you sure, Baby?" Rose eyed the white woman. "I'm sure. Git." ------- Stick turned to Teddy. "We got trouble. Mary's Mama showed up at my house, talkin' shit. Now Pop is on a rampage. We got to get over there." He paused a moment. "Uh, look -- he asked for you in particular -- and your Ma..." Teddy blew out a breath. "Uh oh. I'll go get Ma." Stick got on the phone. "Mary?" "Stick?" "We got trouble. Do you know where your mama is?" "Oh, no!" "Oh, YES! She's pissed Pop off bad -- he wants us all over there -- including you and your Pop..." "Okay. I'll meet you there." "Don't go in 'til we get there -- I got Ted and his mama with me!" "Okay, Hon. See you there!" ------- Chapter 58: Irma Loses a Bet It was a good thirty minutes until the others began to arrive; Irma tried to leave on four separate occasions, but she lacked the speed and agility. Her tongue worked, though, and she called Stick's father every name she could think of -- and spun three or four tales of possible gay sexual combinations (since that seemed to set Pop off), some of which were unfortunately true. Stick collected everyone downstairs. After he and Mary made introductions, he said, "Pop was pretty pissed; I'm probably gonna end up out on the street, one way or another. Your mama didn't know anything, right? I'm not real clear on how this happened!" Arthur Nally popped up, "I imagine that she went looking for a sore spot -- but she may have guessed. It's hard to say." "Well, Pop DOESN'T know -- or he didn't. I don't know how this is gonna go." "Will he hurt anyone?" Mary asked. "I don't think so. He don't have a gun or anything. But your mama might have two black eyes..." Stick turned to the stair. "THAT wouldn't hurt her," Arthur mumbled under his breath. ------- "Pop, we're all here!" Stick called, outside the door. There were a lot of white folk in the hall -- eyes were peeking around corners everywhere. "Well, git in here, outta the hallway, then!" Pop called back. "You keep your ass on the couch!" he admonished Irma. Everybody filed in. "Git over there where I can keep an eye on ya!" Several of the new arrivals were pleased that there weren't any guns or knives showing. Pop turned to Stick. "Awright, who's who?" "This is Mary..." "That's fuckin' obvious." "And this is Ted." "Is it Ted, or Teddy? The fat bitch keeps sayin' Teddy." "It's Teddy, Sir," Teddy piped up. Pop nodded. "Little fucker's got manners, at least. Next!" "This is Mary's dad..." Arthur nodded his head. "Arthur Nally." "You put up with her shit regular?" Pop asked, nodding at Irma. "Too often," Arthur replied. "Arthur!" Irma screeched. "Shaddap! You had your say!" Pop bellowed. "I oughta duct-tape your mouth shut!" "And this is Teddy's mom..." Stick finished. "Where's your daddy, Boy?" Pop asked Teddy. "He's dead, I'm afraid," Frieda interjected. "I'm Frieda Frick." "Frick?" Pop looked amused. Teddy colored, but Frieda held her peace, nodding. "Awright. I'd like for this to be a man thing, but too many of ya got a right ta be here. Except for this nasty-mouthed twat," he waved at Irma, "I apologize in advance for anything too rough gets said. Okay?" Mary and Frieda nodded. "Awright, c'mere, ya slip -- Mary, ain't it?" Pop waved her forward. "Yes, Sir." "We gonna start with the basics. Everybody seems ta agree you been spreadin' it for Stick -- AND for Teddy! What's up with that?" Mary flashed a look at Stick and flicked her eyes to Teddy, but Pop wasn't buying. "You're talkin' to me, now -- it's too late for snow jobs!" "Okay. It started out more or less accidentally, but I get different things from each of them -- and I like it that way." Mary declared. "Who else you fuckin'?" "Nobody." "Stick asked ya to fuck somebody else, would ya?" Mary chewed this one over; how was it relevant? "Maybe. It depends." "On what?" "Circumstances. Reasons. If it made sense. If Teddy agreed..." "Ah. So, is this Slutville, or not? Don't sound like it, quite," Pop mused. "What's Teddy got to do with it?" "They're equals, in some ways." Mary decided that the truth was the way to go. Pop flashed a glance at Stick. "Ain't the way I heard it." "We figured we would start out with something you might swallow," Mary replied. "Huh." Pop's eyes took in both young men. "Equals, huh? Why is that? What's equal about ya?" "They're different," Mary worked to salvage things. "It's too difficult to compare them. Like apples and oranges." "What's so different? Besides one of 'em is a white boy..." "Really, it's kind of obvious..." Mary trailed off. Pop eyed Teddy. "I hear you ain't got much of a dick." "I lied," Stick said flatly. "It's 'Show and Tell'," Pop grated. "Show me." Teddy undid his pants. Predictably, he was shrunken to even smaller than normal. "That's not fair!" Frieda blustered. "He's scared to death!" "There's somethin' to see?" Pop grunted. "Can ya get it up, Son? This ain't about getting' hurt..." "I--I don't know..." "Get ya some help, maybe..." Pop's eyes flashed around the room; significantly, they lit on Stick, too. Stick knew some test would be coming... "I guess mosta the others wouldn't be right. Mary, you done this before, right?" "Yessir." "You figure this is the right circumstances?" "Yessir." Mary went to her knees before Teddy and took control of his cock. "Mary! You stop that this instant! My God!" Irma screeched. "Arthur, say something!" "Shut up, Irma," Arthur said tonelessly. "Mary wants to do this, I think." Mary, her mouth full, nodded. Teddy, thankfully, was showing some signs of life... Pop watched for a bit, then frowned. "What the fuck? Back off, Girl -- lemme see this!" Mary backed off, smiling; Teddy was in full flower. "See? THAT's what's different!" "Damn, Son -- that's the weirdest dick I ever saw!" Pop exclaimed. "It be different from Stick's -- that's for sure..." He sighed. "I hate to do this to ya, Boy, but we need to move on. Tuck it back in..." Turning to Stick, he asked, "So, you're fuckin' her, right?" "Yep." Stick's face was calm. "Okay, prove it. I wanna see it. Tip her up over there on the couch and give her a nut." "Pop!" "Ya been doin' it or ya ain't -- and if ya have, it ain't no big deal! You okay with that, Red?" Pop addressed Mary. "Uh huh. C'mon, Stick, your Dad's right -- it's not like we haven't done it before..." Mary grabbed Stick by the wrist. "Okay," Stick grunted. "Get your panties off. Dunno how I'm gonna get going, either, at this rate..." Too bad he couldn't use Teddy... But he started coming up right away, no problem, in Mary's hands. "This is an outrage!" Irma protested. "Disgusting! I can't watch this! It's horrible!" "Look away, then. Y'all okay?" Pop asked the couple setting up beside Mary's mother. "Um, yeah..." Mary was slouched back with her dress up and her legs spread; Stick was looking for the proper stance, adjusting his knees wider and narrower. Mary started rubbing Stick's glans against her slot, intent on her work. "Uh, if y'all don't want to see this..." Pop offered to Arthur and Frieda. "The fat bitch, there, says she ain't, so I figure it's important to her -- but y'all do as ya please..." "Fuck you!" Irma hissed -- but she was watching her daughter absorb Stick's length. "You'll never go back to dogs, Bitch!" Pop replied. He shifted his attention to Arthur and Frieda. Arthur murmured, "If she's fine, I'm fine." Mary nodded confirmation. "I don't understand how this is relevant..." Frieda murmured -- but her eyes were glued to the juncture of the black boy and the white girl. Stick was clearly just as excited to be in there... "That fat racist cunt on the couch doesn't like it," Pop replied. "That'd be reason number one. Second, she said that she never saw them fucking -- an' she implied that somethin' else was goin' on, instead. We're clearin' up whether Stick is queer or not, for one thing." "Oh..." Frieda couldn't tear her eyes away -- which was a general situation that included Irma. Pussy was pussy; Stick found that he COULD get it going, and once he did, it wasn't too bad. Mary started dry, but she was lubing up... She leaned up to kiss him. "Just get it -- don't let them bother you. I'm not..." Pop turned to Teddy. "I guess that brings us back to you. You queer, Boy?" Teddy fidgeted. "Not totally, Sir," he finally got out. "I like that." "Meanin' Mary?" "Uh huh. Stick usually goes first -- it opens her up. Otherwise, it's real hard to get in." "You an' Stick asshole buddies?" Pop asked. Teddy paused a long time. "It's not like that. Ma, cover your ears. You see, Stick likes to get his dick wet. That doesn't make him queer. If I lined up on you for a blowjob with a couple of girls, you'd probably pick me as best, if you were blindfolded -- and a lot of that is because I know what feels good. Believe it or not, we tried it." "You didn't answer my question." Another long pause. "Stick's been in me. He's been in Mary, too. An ass is an ass, I guess." Stick stopped dead. "Dammit, Pop! I can't finish what I'm doin' if I have ta worry 'bout you kicking the shit out of me!" Pop turned his attention on Stick, but he pointed a finger at Teddy. "You taken a dick up your ass, Boy?" Teddy shook his head no, and Stick, who could see neither of them, verbalized it, "No. Not my thing." Mary, watching Pop over Sticks shoulder, added her head shake to Teddy's. "You suck a dick?" Pop challenged. All three of them froze. But all three of them decided that they were safe in a lie. Teddy shook his head. A moment later, Stick said, "No, Pop." Mary added her agreement. "Go back to fuckin'," Pop grunted. "I think all three of ya jus' lied to me -- but that's sorta impressive." Teddy piped up, "You've seen me. I'm not going to be in an ass." "Boy, you don' know what I seen. But I'll buy it that you ain't tried it," Pop replied. Teddy shrugged. "It's just not Stick's thing..." "What's YOUR thing, Boy?" "Ma..." "Whatever it takes, Dear." "Okay. I like to fuck. I like to be sucked. I like to make other people happy, so I like to suck. I kind of like being fucked," Teddy went down the list. "So what does Stick do for you, Boy?" Teddy was ready. "He lets me make him happy. There's some more to it; he protects me and Mary. He makes the tough decisions. He shares." Pop sighed. "You still told me more'n you should have." Arthur piped up. "There's a range, here. It's called bisexual. It's not gay, and it's not straight -- it's more just... open. But it IS a range. I've talked to all three of them about it, and Teddy is well over the hump toward being homosexual -- but he isn't, quite. He's very submissive, and in a lot of ways almost female -- sorry, Ma'am." He nodded at Frieda, who said nothing. "Stick is the opposite; he's mostly into females, and completely into -- as Teddy says -- getting his dick wet. He won't do anything that endangers his position as top dog in the relationship -- but he'll fuck anyone that offers, within limits." Stick had stopped again. "Shit, Mary, I can't do this while they talk about me!" Mary sighed. "I can't, either. Let's just wait like this." "Why don't you two just stop that disgusting, unnatural act?" Irma ranted. "I can't believe..." "SHUT UP!" came from at LEAST three sources. "Boy, you can stop worryin' when you answer just ONE question so I'll believe it!" Pop rasped. "If ya don't, your ass is outta here, so you need to think about it REAL HARD!" He paused, then posed the question again, "Now, Boy, DO YOU SUCK DICK?" Stick locked eyes with Mary. Several seconds went by. Finally, he murmured, "One dick. Teddy's. Because he deserves it." Mary followed this up with, "And that's MY fault -- because I browbeat him that he was just taking from Teddy and not giving him anything in the relationship!" Pop sat there, looking at Teddy, who had tears running down his face. "This is fucked up." "If I had known it would come to this, I'd never have allowed it," Teddy husked. Stick turned around. "Pop, this ain't about queer or straight. It's about me, and him and her. That's all. Jus' me and him and her." Pop looked at Teddy. "That the way it is? Nobody else?" Teddy nodded. Pop turned to Stick, "Boy, take yo' friends up to you mama's and my room. Don't fuck the place up, but take care of business. The rest of us got adult shit to talk about." He sat looking at Teddy while Stick unplugged himself from Mary, helped her up, and collected Teddy, tucking him between himself and Mary as he led them out. When they were gone, he repeated himself, "This is fucked up." Irma opened her mouth, and he grated, "Shut up! You ain't brought nothin' positive to the table yet!" He rubbed his face and turned to Arthur, "You seem to know shit -- what happened?" Arthur shrugged. "Blind luck. I picked up on it early and got most of the answers. None of them is out doing anything or anybody else. Stick isn't gay, and hasn't done anything gay with anyone else. Teddy was in early experimentation; Mary probably stopped him from coming out confused. Mary -- Mary's happy..." he flicked his eyes at Irma, "generally." "I'll get back to ya," Pop grunted. He turned to Frieda, "What's your take on this?" "I was totally blind until yesterday," Frieda replied, "but I don't have a problem with it. I don't have a problem with either of them." "Well I do!" Irma piped up. "I think it's a crime against nature! It's sick, that's what it is! All this wild sex... Musical chairs... It's godawful!" Pop rubbed his face again and, ignoring Irma's ongoing tirade, turned to Arthur. "What's your name again?" "Arthur." "Arthur, this dizzy bitch has spent the past hour or so sounding like the queen of the white supremacists! She's insulted me about two million times in my own home, an' I wanna kick her big fuckin' white ass right up between her fuckin' ears! Being you be her husband an' all, I'm wonderin' if you want to take responsibility for the bitch..." Arthur sat there for a moment, looking at Pop Williams. Then he looked at Irma, who sat with her arms crossed, glaring at him. Then he turned back to Pop, "Ordinarily, I'd feel some obligation to support her sorry ass -- but she came here to make trouble and to ruin my daughter's life, so I figure she can get what's coming to her." Pop sat back. "You ain't wearin' a pointy white hood today? Or you jus' too chicken to mix it up wit' me?" Arthur took off his eyeglasses and gazed down at them. "If you feel you need to fight me, that's fine -- but I'd prefer that you save your energy for Irma; she's well padded. I don't know where this crap she's spouting came from, but I don't agree with any of it, and, frankly, I think you have a real fine boy!" "Arthur, you fucking traitor! I want a divorce! I'm going to take you for every nickel you ever made!" Irma screeched. "Jeezus!" Pop leaned up and slapped Irma right across the mouth, then sat back watching Arthur, who made no move. Frieda flinched, and Pop spared her a glance. "I'm real sorry you had ta see that." He turned back to Arthur. "But?" "But nothing," Arthur replied, shaking his head. "Stick had it right -- it's about the relationship. The three of them are growing something non-standard in the way of a relationship. Now, I have no problem with that. Frieda, here, has said the same. It's up to you and Irma -- and I'm prepared to fight Irma." "Well, I'M prepared to KICK IRMA'S FAT ASS!" Pop roared, getting up in her face. "Do what you like! I won't have MY daughter turning out a half- dozen half-breed babies and a bunch of God knows what for a couple of queers!" Irma spat. "Long as they be sharin' your daughter's pussy, they ain't queer!" Pop replied, his eyes slits. "What you got against black dick, anyway, bitch? You miss out when you was younger?" "You blacks and your big egos, trying to paper over your natural inferiority! You expect me to buy into the black sexual superman myth? Bullshit!" Irma screeched. "Big talk, bitch! You up for a wager?" Irma's eyes narrowed. "What kind of wager?" "I bet I got two inches of cock on your old man, there. If I'm wrong, I'll make Stick stay away from Mary. But if I'm right, I'm gonna poke it in every one of your skanky holes and blow a wad -- an' you'll suck it up an' run your little brown, kinky-haired grandchildren around the block in their stroller, all proud-like -- right with the white ones!" Irma's mind raced. She had no real concept of what 'normal' was for a cock; she'd had two, and the other one was longer than Arthur's. Still, she'd seen two more today, and Stick's, while longer than Arthur's, wasn't anything ridiculous. Pop, meanwhile, shifted his gaze to the others. Arthur put back on his eyeglasses; Frieda just sat there, petrified. Pop eyed her. "This is outta hand. If you don't wanta be here, you can go inta the next room, or somethin'. We got to fix this." "Will it be fixed?" Frieda asked, fearful for her son, rather than herself. "The gay parts..." Pop waved it off. "Special case. Don' want it getting' out in the 'hood, but..." He nodded at Irma. "Problem is THERE!" He turned to Arthur. "Okay, this is different. That's your pussy -- you got a say..." "It's MY pussy!" Irma insisted. "Only I get a say!" Pop's expression reflected sadness. "She like that alla time?" "Some. For a while, now." Arthur's reply was toneless. "This is the worst, by quite a distance." He looked at his wife. "I'm out of it -- let her make her own decisions." Irma grinned in triumph. "Okay, Superman -- two inches, huh? I don't think Arthur is average -- do you?" Pop just eyed her. "Three." "Three! Three inches? So the bet is that you're three inches longer than he is?" Pop nodded, warily. "Done!" Irma cackled. Pop turned to Frieda. "In the next room, in Rose's sewing cabinet, there will be a cloth measuring tape in the left-hand drawer. Would y'all get it for us?" Frieda, wide-eyed, nodded, and bustled off to collect the tape. Pop turned to Arthur. "I didn't ask you if you wanted to do this." "I see where it's going." "You packing any surprises?" "No." "Then she's fucked." "Yeah, sure! Whip it out, Superman! Show me the Black Master's super snake!" She turned to Arthur, "Pay attention, Dear -- no doubt it'll be longer than yours, anyway. I spent two years helping you keep your job by fucking that bastard Chase, before he moved on -- I've seen better than you before!" Arthur looked shocked. Pop shook his head. "Man, that sucks! I already seen more of YOUR home life than I wanna!" Frieda bustled back in with the cloth tape. "Okay, you're a witness, right?" Pop addressed her. "Yesssss." Frieda had no idea how things had come to this -- but she couldn't leave. Somehow, at some point, this black man had stopped being the enemy and started championing both their sons against the hatred and vituperation Mary's mother was putting out. Things were... weird... but she felt compelled to see them play themselves out... "You good with that, Bitch?" Pop prompted. "Maybe you want the kids to see you go down?" "She'll do to witness you eating crow, Superman! Let's go! I've got things to do!" Irma snarled. "Go ahead, Man," Pop directed. Arthur stood and deliberately unzipped his trousers, then lowered them to the floor. He looked first at Irma, then Frieda, then shucked out of his boxers. Pop took a look and grunted, "You suck, there, White Supremacist Bitch? Mebbe you wanna fluff him a bit before the measurement?" Arthur was only half-hard. "It's probably enough to handle the handicap already!" Irma countered. "Come on, stop talking and start embarrassing yourself!" Pop argued, "I'm serious! You're gonna want to get everything you can! You got five minutes once Miz Frick here says time starts -- but I get equal time!" "Five?" Irma looked disgusted. "Too long -- two!" Pop shrugged. "Two it is. Miz Frick, you clear on the bet?" "I think so. Your... equipment is to be at least three inches longer than Mr. Nally's. Mrs. Nally has two minutes to get the maximum erection possible from each of you." "That it, bitch?" "Fine. Christ, Arthur, you could make SOME showing!" Irma bitched. "Ya got two minutes to help him..." Pop pointed out. "Stop talking and get it out!" Irma ranted. "I need to take my daughter home!" "Fine." Pop unzipped and dropped his baggy blue jeans. ------- Stick, Teddy, and Mary weren't up to 'taking care of business' when they entered Stick's parent's bedroom. The previous half hour or so had been extremely stressful for them all; Teddy was openly crying and Mary was on the verge of tears. Stick couldn't seem to lift his various burdens THAT far -- release seemed to be denied him. "I dunno WHAT the fuck Pop's gonna do now!" "What do you figure they're up to?" Teddy asked fearfully. "I figure they're arguing over who is going to try to stop us and who isn't -- and how," Mary guessed. "Yeh," Stick agreed. "I'm thinkin' it's two against two. Mary's Mama an' my Pop against Teddy's Mama and Mary's Pop. Don't look good." He looked at Teddy. "Mebbe I can crash at your place. Dunno WHAT the fuck we gonna do 'bout Mary..." "Let's not buy trouble, Hon. My Poppa might carry things..." Mary hoped. "Ma isn't exactly committed -- and she isn't exactly gutsy," Teddy sighed. "In the meantime, what are we gonna do?" "I'm tempted to have one last blast -- but I don't think I'm up for it," Stick sighed. "Me either," Mary agreed. Teddy nodded his head. The three cuddled up on the bed for several minutes, trying to get control of their emotions. Finally, Teddy stopped openly crying and Mary stopped shaking. Stick grunted, "I can't believe it's takin' this long... Somebody plannin' to move outta town, or somethin'?" He hopped up. "I'm gonna try to get a look; y'all wait here..." ------- "Omigod!" Frieda exclaimed. Pop Williams organ as revealed was a good two inches longer than Arthur's, completely flaccid! Irma looked back and forth. Experience told her that Arthur had a bit more in him, but that much? She began to know real fear. "Come on, Arthur -- DO something!" "Uh uh," Pop admonished. "Ain't up to him. It's up to YOU! Best you get him hard..." Irma looked to him for clearance and Pop stood back, allowing her to get up off the couch. Irma ponderously got up and moved over in front of Arthur, kneeling before him and hissing, "You're embarrassing me!" Arthur shrugged. "You're the one that got yourself into this." Pop looked over at Frieda. "You gotta watch, Miz Frick?" "Do I have a watch, or do I have TO watch?" Frieda asked. "Both." "Yes." She positioned herself to Arthur's left (Irma's right), where Pop's monster organ was also in her field of view, looked at her watch, and announced, "You may start." Irma, with obvious reluctance, took up Arthur's cock and started jacking it. Pop murmured, "Keep an eye out, Miz Frick. I get equal time -- and whatever he gets!" Irma looked up, scowling. "You mean I have to do this to you?" "Yeh." Pop grinned. "EWWWW!!!" Irma dropped her hands. "You lose this bet, Bitch, an' that'll be fuckin' NOTHIN' to what happens!" Pop grated. Irma thought about it, eyed Pop's snake, and started jacking again. Arthur got hard against his will; even given the situation, any attention was better than none. Irma watched with satisfaction as his cock stiffened and the glans puffed out, filled with blood. Pop, watching, grunted, "Nothin' wrong with that. You be a picky bitch, ain't ya?" "Shut up," Irma rasped. "This is MY time!" She directed a venomous look at Arthur, who she was certain was holding back -- and which had a negative effect on him; he subsided a bit under the glare. "Dammit, Arthur!" "You aren't exactly making this a pleasant experience!" Arthur retorted. Frieda watched, fascinated. Both men present exceeded Hubby's capabilities by a significant margin; Mr. Williams was absolutely HUGE! Twenty-four hours before, Frieda could not have even envisioned this scene. A few minutes ago, she was scared to death, both for herself and for her son. Now, she was floating beyond all that, running on apparently unneeded adrenaline -- and succumbing to the fascination with male sex organs first experienced earlier in the day. Irma shut up and concentrated on Arthur's cock, managing to bring it to something resembling its potential. Pop, watching Frieda, recognized fascination and cleared his throat. Frieda looked up, blushed, checked her watch, and announced, "Time!" "How long was it really?" Pop asked. "Almost three minutes." Frieda looked away, embarrassed. Irma glared. Pop grunted, "Don' give her any shit -- you needed it! Git a measurement!" He grinned. "Best keep him fluffed up, there!" Frieda fumbled with the tape. "Top side," Pop recommended. "Bottom is longer, 'cause of the curve, but then you get inta arguments 'bout where the cock ends and the balls start..." With shaking hands, Frieda placed the metal tab of the tape against Arthur's pubic bone and rolled it out. "Ummm, six inches, right at." Pop peered over the top. "Decent. Take a look, Bitch. Satisfied?" Irma rolled her eyes. "It's all I'm gonna get, I guess." She directed another withering glance at Arthur. "Ain't his fault," Pop grunted. "That's 'bout normal. An' you ain't helped him much. Git your big ass over here -- it's my turn!" Arthur made to pull up his pants, but Pop waved him off. "Leave it -- she might want to go for best two outta three..." Irma turned, but squinched up her face. "I'm not touching that!" "Fuck you ain't, you dizzy bitch!" Pop growled. "You made the rules -- now you'll live by 'em!" Irma glared up at him. "You can't make me!" SMACK!! Pop lambasted Irma across the face, then grabbed a handful of her hair. "You in serious shit, here, an' you ain't got no friends! Git your shit together, Bitch!" Pop got right down in Irma's face. Standing back up, he flicked a glance at Arthur, who was frowning slightly, but said nothing. Irma turned watery eyes on Arthur. "He hit me!" Arthur's face went totally blank. "Did it knock any sense into you?" "What?" "How many times do I have to say this? You entered this man's home and insulted him, his family, and his race! I disagree with ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING you have said on this matter, and you haven't given me any reason to support you! I'm not interceding! Be happy I'm not helping him!" "But you're my husband!" "And you want a divorce! Frankly, I think that's a pretty good idea! In any case, you made a wager, here, in front of witnesses. You need to follow through!" Irma looked around; this wasn't the way things were supposed to be! Arthur was SUPPOSED to cave and do as he was told -- support her! Instead, he was just standing there with that iron-hard look on his face that he'd been displaying off and on for several days, now. Things were NOT as they should be! Now, this ugly black bastard was using her hair to turn her face away from her husband's, tilting her face up to his... "About time you got started, ain't it?" Pop growled. He drew back his hand. Actually, slapping the bitch around was starting to get him stiff, anyway -- some kind of reaction, probably... Irma continued to look stubborn... and found herself riding out the second slap! "OW!" "Git started! Do what ya said you would do!" "Oh, all right! All right!" Irma took up Pop's heavy club of a cock. It felt different than Arthur's, both because of its size and the fact that it was currently dead weight. "You jus' gonna look at it?" Pop grunted. Irma grimaced and started jacking the thing. Only the very tip exposed itself beyond the foreskin; she pulled it back until the head was exposed and let it retract. Pop thought it was a piss-poor effort, but he didn't need much... "Might as well start the time..." Frieda nodded. She'd flinched at both slaps; now Arthur gently drew her away to whisper in her ear, "I know this looks awful -- but you can't imagine how much she needs this dose of reality. She's been just awful for some time -- and there was that other thing... Very embarrassing. That she would tell me such a thing in front of witnesses... Remember what we're trying to accomplish, here -- it's for the kids..." Frieda nodded again, watching Irma pretend to work. She heard Arthur, and agreed with him, but the primary sensation she felt was his warm breath in her ear. Weirdly, she was tremendously excited; her nipples were rock hard, and she was wet between the legs -- something probably improper for someone who was witnessing what was from some standpoints an assault, and, if things continued as they were, was starting to look like the warmup for a rape... ------- Stick, creeping through the kitchen, nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of the slaps. He froze for half a minute before creeping forward to peek around the door. 'What the fuck?' Mary's Pop was standing there with his shit down around his ankles, whispering in Teddy's Mama's ear -- and both were watching... Mary's Mama jacking off Pop? Something really strange was goin' down... "C'mon, Bitch, you're cheatin'," Pop grunted. "Git it movin'!" Irma was deliberately taking her time to keep the friction down from her pseudo-hand job. It wasn't helping that much, because he was growing, anyway, but she was cheating -- and everyone knew it! "I'm gonna slap your ass again!" Frieda surprised herself by opening her mouth, "Is this how you prove that you're superior to him? By cheating? If you won't do it right, then I will!" "Good!" Irma dropped her hand. "Do it!" "Nope, she cain't," Pop argued. "Then you'd claim she cheated, someways. It's on you -- but if you won't even git me stiff, we're gonna go inta overtime." "Nope, two minutes!" Irma countered. "Nope, almost three!" Pop challenged. "Maybe I'll jus' slap your ass around for a while an' see if I stiffen up!" He raised a hand. "Okay! Okay!" Irma went back at it, using both hands, and Pop began to seriously rise to the occasion -- something thoroughly frightening! The thing just kept growing... Still, three inches was a lot for a penis... Stick continued to watch. Was this a game or something? There seemed to be rules... Mary's Mama was busy fuckin' it up, from the sound of things -- no surprise... Stick saw Pop's hand go up, and realized that he must've already slapped Mary's Mama a couple of times. Whatever the deal was, it was three on one, not two on two. Pop's meat was out there, slowly getting serious -- and everybody was watchin'! Fucking weird... Things started to clarify in a moment, though. Teddy's Mama stepped forward and said, "Time!" and Pop said, "Get the measurement!" and Teddy's Mama took a measuring tape and measured Pop's cock! Things were quiet for a second, then Teddy's Mama said, "Lordy! Ten inches! Maybe even a bit more!" Pop bent over Mary's Mama and said, "Get your look, Bitch, 'cause that's the last thing you do in this house that don't come from ME -- understand?" "T-ten inches! It c-can't be!" Irma wailed -- but it was! Her eyes told her the same thing Ms. Frick's told her! Ten inches! Actually, a bit more! Oh, God! "So! You lose the bet! You let the kids do whatever they're gonna -- an' that fixes everbody else -- but now I take ya down a couple of pegs an' you get ta see jus' what it's like, bein' ridden by a black man with a big dick!" Pop grabbed Irma by the hair, as she was attempting to take off. "Might as well get started! Turn your big ass around and suck!" "Arthur, help!" Irma wailed. Arthur looked at her, "I'm missing the reason why I should. This was YOUR brilliant idea, and it was made clear to you on several occasions that you would bear responsibility for it! Do what you told the man you WOULD do -- and stop whining!" Pop's grip on her hair hurt; Irma was awash in pain, anger, and betrayal -- and now, real fear! "You're not really gonna..." "Oh, yeah! I'm gonna enjoy it, too! Come in MY house and insult ME and MY RACE! Talk shit all afternoon long! Act like a total bitch! Time ta PAY, cunt!" Pop crowed, rubbing his cock against Irma's face. "Look out!" Arthur somehow knew what Irma was going to try even before she did -- and that was just soon enough for Pop to clear her snapping teeth. "Why..." SMACK! "You..." SMACK! "BITCH!!!" SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Irma was positively loopy! It had been a LOOOONG time since someone had slapped her and she'd NEVER taken a series like this! "AAAAAAHHHH!!!" Her head swam, and she tasted blood. Her ears rang and her eyes weren't quite working right... She gazed stupidly at Pop, who then shook her a good one to keep the confusion flowing before snatching her blouse over her head -- but leaving her arms in the sleeves. Pushing the bulk of the blouse behind her did a fine job of encumbering her arms... Frieda turned and buried her face in Arthur's shoulder, covering her ears; the violence was a bit much. Arthur found himself standing there with his pants down, holding a woman not his wife (by several dress sizes -- Frieda was robust, but not a 3X). Pop tilted Irma's head up. "Now, do ya remember why you're here, bitch? The payoff was me dumping spunk in all three of your holes -- and that one under your nose qualifies. You try ta bite me again, and I'll break your fuckin' jaw! Understand?" Pop was weaving in and out of focus for Irma, but she got the point, nodding, wide-eyed. Pop said, "Open your mouth!" and she did so, largely because her brain wasn't working. The next thing she knew, she had a mouth full of meat! "Gak! Glurp!" Irma threw herself backwards and turned her head to meet Frieda's eyes as she backed away from Arthur. "Help me!" Frieda glanced back at Arthur, whose face was a blank. "No. You... did this... to yourself... You made a wager. Pay up." By then, Pop had Irma's hair again. "Turn around, ya fuckin' cow! Now, suck!" A planned refusal to open her mouth failed due to a lack of courage when Pop's hand came up; Irma found herself again with a mouthful of dark meat. Since she had been disinclined to allow Arthur such privileges, he expected to see her flounder a bit -- but it turned out she knew how to suck a cock after all... Obviously, Arthur's old boss had been more persuasive. Pop set to guiding her with the hand in her hair, and when things appeared to be going well, he put it on automatic and looked up at Arthur. "I'm gonna owe you when this is over." Arthur wasn't sure, frankly, whether Pop meant some atonement for using his wife like a street tramp, or that he felt that he owed Arthur an ass-whipping; to be safe, he just nodded. Frieda turned around and was watching again. "I never did that for Hubby," she husked. "He might have liked it." "Irma never did it for me, either," Arthur rasped, then gave voice to his recent thought process, "Wonder where she got so good at it?" Stick had had an eyeful -- and an earful, for that matter! Gathering himself, he worked his way back to his parent's room. Mary met him at the door, "Well?" "You'll never believe it!" "Good, bad, or indifferent?" "Good, I think..." Teddy perked up at this. "What's up?" Stick shrugged, directing his answer at Mary, since she was the one most concerned. "Pop must've rolled over, sometime. Basically, he's stompin' your Mama's ass for bad-mouthing everybody. I'm guessin', but I think Pop bet her his dick was longer than your Daddy's -- and won -- and now she has to take his dick wherever he feels like sticking it. From the way your Daddy and Teddy's Ma are acting, everybody figures your Mama needs taking down a notch, and Pop's method is gonna do the job. Since she's got that black thing, it's gonna be a real kick in the gut bein' fucked by one..." "Is Ma safe?" Teddy worried. "Yeh. She was refereeing. She don't like the violence, but Mary's Mama is bringin' it on herself, trying to welch out of the bet. Pop ain't takin' no shit, an' he's collecting." "Is it bad?" Mary asked. "Well, she tried to bite him, so Pop slapped her around some. She seems to have settled down. I guess she said something to your Pop about fucking another guy. Pop is kinda apologetic to him -- but he ain't stopped, and your Pop isn't lifting a finger. I think he's pretty pissed." "Think we can go look?" Mary asked. Stick scratched his head. "Hafta be real quiet. This thing is private -- they might stop if they catch us watching. Personally, I think she deserves it." Second thoughts rushed in, and Stick appended, "Sorry." Mary grimaced. "Me, too." "Okay. Real quiet, then..." ------- Irma was trying to cope. Things had gone VERY badly; nothing seemed to work to get Mary shook loose from her two boyfriends -- even the exposure of the fact that they were more than friends... Then she'd let her mouth get ahead of her brain and said a bunch of things she shouldn't have, both to the bastard holding her by the hair while he impaled her on his cock and to her husband... Irma wasn't sure whether her long-term fortunes were going to be any better than the short-term ones -- which were bad enough! 'That black bastard' seemed to fit him better than 'Mr. Williams'; either way, he had an absolutely unprecedented amount of cock and he was busy trying to choke her to death with it! "Easy!" She lunged back to get some air and to bark a warning. "Killing me isn't in the bargain!" she yelled, fending him off. "Do a decent fuckin' job, then!" Pop sulked. "Might as well show me them melons, while you're at it..." He reached for her bra. "That wasn't in the bet, either!" Irma rasped. "Fine! Your other two holes are! Stand up! I wanna see what I'm getting' into!" Pop took her by the upper arm, and Irma found herself standing before her legs really got the word to move! Two seconds later, her stretch pants were a puddle on the floor, and her panties were floating down to meet them! "Hey!" "Hey, nothin'! Three holes you owe me, an' two of 'em are down below! Not that YOU can see either one of 'em!" 'Jeezus! I'm gonna have a helluva time tryin' to stay hard for THIS!' The white bitch was a sow -- thoroughly unappetizing. Well, he bought into this for the lesson she'd learn, not the sex... "Awright, git back down, bitch -- you ain't done suckin'!" A hand in her hair to convince her and she was on her knees again, opening her mouth for his joint. "Work it, Bitch! The sooner you get this one, the sooner we can move on! I thought you was in a fuckin' hurry?" Meanwhile, Pop was merciless about jamming his length at her. He had no expectations of her taking it all -- he'd had that once in his life, from a Eurasian whore who his friends swore could unhinge her jaw -- but he could make her miserable, and that was the point of the exercise. "You go a LOT of nerve, bringin' YOUR fat ass in here and callin' ME and MINE inferior! Jeezus! You ever look in a fuckin' mirror? You be a fuckin' SOW! I couldn't put yo' sorry fat ass on a street corner, buck naked, an' expect the dogs ta sniff ya for enough tips to feed ya dog food, let alone fuck an' make a profit! One look at Mary an' ya know she got problems -- an' ya know the fuckin' SOURCE, too! Where the fuck you come off judgin' other folk is fuckin' beyond my ass!" Irma couldn't respond to this tirade; even grunting got in the way of taking in air -- something Pop wasn't letting her do a whole lot of! That big, black cock seemed to go on forever, and even when it was gagging her and cutting off her air, there seemed to be a foot of it waiting... It was also a brutal lesson in reality. Pop might or might not be 'normal', but he was here, and he quite obviously WAS a black Superman... and she was fucked. And she was going to BE fucked, too! It was time to bow to the inevitable... Throwing herself backward at the end of a stroke, she croaked, "Hands!" "You want your hands? What the fuck for? You ain't in control here!" Pop ranted -- but he gave her a little freedom of movement. "More! Glurp! Better! Gla!" Irma tried to get an explanation out around Pop's strokes. "Jack! Ogla!" "Dis mean there's a limit ta how fuckin' stupid ya are, you fuckin' sow?" "Uhm..." Irma relied more on her eyes than her voice to convey her response. "Sounds fuckin' risky to me!" Pop argued. "What if you get stupid again? I bet shit won't last -- so what's in it for me?" She had to offer him something? More? Was he kidding? No, he wasn't kidding, dammit! What else did she have to offer? Oh! Might as well... "Bra!" "You goin' to give me titties? That's not in the deal!" Pop mimicked her sarcastically. "New deal! Glurp!" Irma got out. "It's fuckin' risky!" Pop grunted. "I need a guarantee!" He thought for a moment. "Gotta idea." He pulled his cock from her mouth, then dumped her forward onto her stomach by his ongoing grip on her hair. "Stay fuckin' here, Bitch! Don' go NOWHERE!" Turning to Frieda, he asked, "Sit on her, willya? I gotta go get somethin'." "Are you going to hurt her?" Frieda asked quietly. "More'n she asks for? No. But she'll bring enough shit on herself..." Pop whispered back. "All right." Frieda, dressed in a calf-length skirt, hiked it up and settled herself across Irma's broad back. "I know I'm going to hate myself for this..." "Wait," Arthur admonished. "The jury is still out." Irma, flat on her stomach with her arms more or less pinned behind her, had absolutely no shot at rising. "Oof!" She contented herself with getting whole breaths of air, something that Frieda's bulk atop her wasn't much of an improvement over Pop's cock in her mouth for. Arthur bent to recover his trousers; his piece of this thing was over, for now -- or maybe it wasn't... "Wait!" Frieda held up a hand. "Huh?" "It's... been a while since I've seen one, and I'm learning that Hubby wasn't gifted," Frieda's voice was careful, apologetic -- she was asking a favor. "In fact, I've shortchanged Teddy through ignorance -- I apparently know almost nothing about male... equipment. Do you mind?" "Errrr, guess not..." Arthur shuffled forward. Irma lay on her stomach, wheezing, her head turned to the side so that one eye could take in the sight of another woman fondling her husband's penis -- a blow to her, even if it WAS totally clinical -- something unlikely in this place at this time... Just how replaceable was she, where Arthur was concerned? Frieda was pretending clinical interest, though. She fingered Arthur's length, murmuring, "This is normal, then?" "It's in range, I think," Arthur replied. "Mr. Williams seems to agree..." "I notice that his has a covering..." "That's a foreskin. I'm circumcised. Teddy is, too, isn't he?" "Yes..." Frieda was obviously bemused. "You seem surprised at the variations, for a woman who has had children..." "I had really only seen Hubby's -- and babies, of course, and some small children's. Hubby was apparently remarkably small..." "May I ask how small?" Arthur queried. Frieda thought about it. "Could I see one of your hands?" "Sure." Frieda took the offered hand and went through his fingers, testing them by wrapping her fingers around each of them, one by one. Finally, she settled on his ring finger. "About this size." "Oh." Arthur looked at his ring finger, nonplussed. "Girth?" "About the same -- a bit thicker, I guess. Not much." She continued to look bemused. "I never really understood the hooraw about sex; now, I'm beginning to understand why..." "Yeah." What did you say to a woman who had apparently had children but never really experienced any joy from sex? There were a couple of obvious options -- but the fact that Frieda was sitting on his wife left Arthur somewhat inhibited. On the other hand, letting go of his cock didn't seem to be on Teddy's mother's to do list... The younger generation, having only just arrived at their viewing station just inside the kitchen door, had no shot at retreating before Pop Williams could discover them. Stick got out a hushed, "Oh, shit!" and Pop was standing there, with his hands on his hips. For a moment, Pop said nothing, obviously turning things over in his head, then he whispered, "Don't let the others catch you!" Turning to Stick, he asked, "Isn't Randy's collar and leash around here somewhere?" "Yeh." Stick grinned from ear to ear, and dashed off. Pop turned to Mary. "This looks like shit, I know..." Mary eyed him, "I notice Poppa isn't doing anything much. Either he's scared, or he's in on it." Pop blinked. "I hope it ain't 'cause he's scared..." He hemmed and hawed a bit. "Looky here -- this is kind of an attitude adjustment. I got her to promise to back off, but she'll backslide unless she gets a little lesson to go with it, ya know?" "And Poppa and Ms. Frick?" Mary asked. "They're mostly bystanders right now. They sorta need to be there, to add to things, but they ain't really in on it." "Umm, what... ?" Teddy asked, eyeing the byplay between his mother and Mary's dad. Pop took the bull by the horns. "I guess your Mama ain't seen any real dicks, Boy. No offense." Nonetheless, he could see that he'd hurt the kid. "I guess your daddy managed to get the job done, though; some dudes hung like horses cain't pump out a kid..." Teddy merely nodded. Fortunately, Stick hurtled back into the room, "Here!" In his hand was the choke collar and leash from Stick's childhood pet, a Rottweiler named Randy. Randy had generally been a good dog, but he disliked uniforms and could be uncontrollable around a person wearing one; as a result, they had purchased a choke collar for him with inward-facing tines that dug into the neck. Randy was a couple of years gone, but the collar -- and a leather leash -- were both still around. "Perfect!" Pop exclaimed. He stood there musing a bit more, then came out with, "It might bring things to a head if y'all show up sometime during the final act -- kinda lay a cherry on top o' thing, ya know?" He was looking at Mary as he said this, trying to detect her reaction. Mary obviously had reservations. "The guys can," she replied. "It might change things between Momma and I too much..." Pop nodded sagely, turned, and headed back to the party. "Awright!" Pop was all business by the time he'd crossed the floor. "We're all set!" He knelt down beside Irma. "Bein' you tend to act like a bitch, it didn't take much thinkin' to realize I can control ya like one!" He fished out the choke collar and adjusted a couple of links, then fastened it around Irma's neck, attaching the leash when he was finished. Irma took this poorly, wide-eyed, puffing, and pink with humiliation and rage -- so angry that she couldn't even talk! Pop recognized the situation, though, and was taking no chances. Looking up at Frieda, he asked, "Y'all wanna haul off that crap around her arms?" "Uh, frankly, no," Frieda got out. "I think I've already participated more than I want to." "Suit yourself," Pop replied. He tucked the leash under his foot and circled around to unbutton Irma's blouse cuffs so he could strip the sleeves down her arms and get the thing off. Then, bracing a knee in Irma's back, he undid her bra, too, then stood up. "Awright, y'all can get up." Irma lurched to her hands and knees and started climbing to her feet, "You bastard! You sonofabitch! This is uncalled for! GAK!" Pop had snapped the leash, clamping down the collar. "I don't think so. If it acts like a bitch and talks like a bitch, it mus' BE a bitch, I figger! You outweigh me a good bit an' you got a bad temper -- but you wanna use your hands. Well, I need insurance, an' this is it! Y'all can stay on your knees..." Numb fingers weren't capable of undoing the collar; choking, her neck feeling a dozen points digging into it, Irma settled back onto her haunches. Pop stepped forward and granted some slack to the choke chain, and Irma started gulping in air. "Now, where were we?" Pop asked rhetorically. "Oh, yeah, you was givin' me a throat fuck." He grabbed Irma's chin and swung her around to face him. "Take it in," he directed. "I'm kinda limp after the interruption, but I know y'all can fix that..." Irma, the fight momentarily leached out of her, opened up. "That's a good bitch!" Pop crooned. "Git Pop ready to mount your big fat ass!" Irma was at a total loss; apparently, she'd made ANOTHER big mistake! Now she was totally naked, wearing a dog collar, sucking the biggest black cock... Worse, there was nothing left to do BUT suck -- or whatever else Mr. Williams (she had no idea what his name was, and characterizing him as 'that black bastard' had apparently gotten her into this mess!) chose to do with her! Thoroughly humiliated and more than a little bit frightened, she looked up into his eyes. "I see you're startin' to get a sense for how you done fucked up," Pop said conversationally. "You gobble my meat like a good bitch, and I'll tell ya a story." He cupped the back of her head, "Keep goin' deep, I like feeling the back of your throat on the head, there... If ya bring your head down an' stretch out your neck, it's a straighter shot... Awright, work it -- I need ta juice!" Pop shook his head over Irma's breasts, which resembled Mary's only somewhat larger. "You even got tits like a sow. Pitiful." He took a few more strokes, then started a new class in humiliation, "Now, I know you're all het up over bruthuhs datin' fat white bitches. Dis ain't really a situation that can be fixed from the bruthuh's side, actually -- ya see, it's all because fat white bitches is such easy pickin's. An' the reason for THAT is 'cause they is desperate. You with me so far?" Irma blinked stupidly; something about this whole mess was turning her brain to mush. It seemed like Mr. Williams was telling her how she came to be here -- but it sounded like she'd planned it, or something, rather than the series of stupid mistakes that she remembered making -- well, come to think of it, she DIDN'T remember some of them; things just seemed to go to Hell... He made it sound like interracial sex was all the woman's fault -- was it? Meanwhile, she was sucking, sucking, holding several inches at the base of his cock in one hand and tickling his balls a bit with the other, like Chase used to enjoy... Mr. Williams seemed to want a response, so Irma let out an "Erk!" around her efforts. "Okay," Pop grunted, "Thought I'd lost ya. You're a right talented cocksucker, Bitch; we startin' ta get somewhere. Where was I? Oh, yeah. Fat white bitches is desperate for two reasons -- know what they are? Okay, I KNOW ya do, but you're busy, so I'll let it out. Fat white bitches is desperate 'cause white dudes don' want any. Dat's reason one. Reason two is jus' about as simple, an' it goes like this: Even when they can FIND dick, chances are it ain't long enough ta scratch their itch! Simple as that! Ta do a fat white bitch, ya gotta get past the fact that all that lard she be wearin' keeps her from bein' limber -- an' it makes the pussy harder ta get to! So ya got to have a coupla extra inches! Over time, the word's gone out that bruthuhs are more likely ta HAVE a couple more inches. Ya with me?" "Urk!" Why did this line of reasoning seem so reasonable? It HAD to be crap! HAD to be! Right? So why was it pouring in her ears, and her brain was going, 'Okay, that makes sense... ' Hypnosis? Anoxia, from having his dick in her throat too much? And why couldn't she seem to be able to look away from the bastard? Pop, grinning, continued making his case. The silly bitch was putty right now -- she'd taken too many hits and was just reacting. This shit was more fun than the blowjob -- watching her suck the line he was feeding her down with his cock... "Now, I know you be thinkin' 'That bastard be full o' shit!' but let's look at shit happenin' right here, right now! You come here to talk me inta pullin' Stick offa Mary -- why? 'Cause she won't do it herself, that's why! Then there be YOU! YOU squatted your fat ass RIGHT THERE an' embarrassed the shit outta your old man -- dude been payin' yo' bills for fuckin' ever -- that you had other dick an' his ain't long enough! Didn't ya? In front o' witnesses! Man, that's some sorry shit! An' last but not least, what kinda fool bitch makes a bet that if a dude's dick is long enough, she get fucked ever which way but loose? Huh? What kinda bitch does that? A BITCH THAT WANTS A BIG DICK! That's what kinda bitch makes a bet like that!" Irma was on the ropes! Pop might as well be beating her with a baseball bat! Mentally, she was out for the count -- Pop had pulled the rug out from under her and she had no idea now what her REAL motivations were! Had she set this whole thing up to get laid? No, that didn't make any sense... Unfortunately, Pop had an answer that DID make sense! "You know why you're here? It's simple! You're JEALOUS! You don' want Mary gettin' dicked while you get ta do without! THAT'S why you come here to fuck shit up! Pure jealousy! Suck on THAT!" Pop tilted Irma's head down a bit to break the eye lock and glanced at Arthur, who was looking seriously unhappy, and grimaced to let him know that it was all bullshit. Problem was, like all good bullshit, there were chunks of truth mixed in -- and they both knew it. Pop was showing the strain; Irma was really working at the blowjob -- her behavior probably a product of her distraction and helplessness. "I'm gonna shoot, now, Bitch. Close you eyes so you can feel it and know it's comin' -- and swallow every damned drop, or I'll slap the shit outta ya!" He concentrated on things, and three or four strokes later, he began to erupt! Irma took it on automatic; she'd swallowed semen before, and knew what to expect. If she'd been thinking about it, she might have made a show of choking or something to keep from embarrassing herself or humiliating Arthur further, but she wasn't really doing well with rational thought; Pop had her half-brainwashed -- dazed and confused. "That's a good bitch... Swallow... Swallow... So, how was dinner?" Irma just looked at him, dazed. "Awright, clean me up an' see if you can git me goin' again. We don't want to wait too long for round two..." A light tug on her leash and Irma kicked into gear again. Pop looked up; Arthur was standing there, looking seriously troubled. Obviously, the whole thing had been a serious blow to him. Well, he'd get over it, one way or another. Frieda was looking at Arthur's cock, which had withered in her hand to half the size. "It... shrank. Amazing!" Pop nodded. "Sex is in your head, a lot of it. Arthur, here, has taken some hits today, an' his head ain't in it any more. What he needs, well..." "What?" "Cover you ears, Bitch!" Pop roared. Irma did so, without thinking -- the tug on her leash reminded her of her status. Pop put his hands over Irma's and motioned Frieda to him, then said quietly, "His old lady told him he ain't man enough for her -- an' I as much as agreed with her, an' I'm busy doin' shit to her that only he ought to be able to. Understand?" "Oh." Frieda nodded. "Of course." Hubby was thin-skinned, that way -- with reason, she now understood. "What he needs is a good piece of ass -- mebbe right in front of Bitch, here -- to, like, validate his machismo, you know?" Frieda sighed. "I don't have much of a track record where sex is concerned. I could make things worse..." "Well, you know best. Still, he could use some attention -- an' it'd fuck with the Bitch's head..." "Um, yes..." Frieda flinched at the four-letter word. He'd been saying it all along, but directed at her, it was somehow more noticeable... ------- Mary's grimace toward the end of Pop's little speech indicated that she was hearing things that she found unpleasant. "What's the matter?" asked Stick. "Some of the stuff he's saying..." "Don't apply to us," Stick insisted. "Tell her, Ted." Teddy nodded agreement. "But it sounds like thoughts that went through my head a bunch of times," Mary replied. "Worse, in fact -- I wasn't even picky; I went fishing with a net!" "Might as well have been dynamite, where Ted and I were concerned," Stick grinned. "You had the right bait... Stop worrying about it. What we got don't match that. That's jus' Pop's rap -- he's filling her head with shit so she gets all confused about stuff -- and as long as she's confused, she won't have the guts to mess with us! Got it?" "What happens if Momma soaks this stuff up?" Mary countered. "She was messed up before -- she'll just be messed up different, I guess. She pretty much stuck it to your Poppa, I guess -- I think they're gonna split," Stick hazarded. "Maybe." Mary didn't want to go there. Even when your family is dysfunctional, it's still your family... "What about your Ma?" Stick asked Teddy. "I'm amazed," he replied. "Things are kind of scary in there, but she hasn't bailed or freaked or anything..." "I thought..." Stick glanced at Teddy. "Never mind." "What?" "I thought for a minute she was gonna suck his dick..." He nodded at Arthur. "I saw that," Teddy admitted. "Ma's had more sex in her face in the past day or so than she's had in years. I think maybe it's having an effect on her..." "Uuh, Dude?" Stick replied diffidently, "I, uh, didn't mention it at the time, because, well, I had a good thing goin'..." "Stick..." Teddy waited him out. "Your Mama came back, Man." "When?" "Remember all them crazy questions?" "Yeah..." "She was listening. She was watching, too." "No way!" "Way! I think she wanted to get a whole lot closer, too!" "Boys?" Mary was mystified. "I was giving Stick a blowjob. Ma walked in on us," Teddy explained. "She said it was okay, and she left -- except now Stick says..." "I swear, Man!" "What's it all mean?" Teddy shook his head. "Well, if your Daddy was as small as we think he was, regular sized dicks are probly a surprise..." Stick guessed. "Yeah." Teddy nodded. "Monsters like your Pop's are probably even MORE surprising!" "That's it!" Mary interjected. "She was looking at Poppa's, up close! Stick's was probably a surprise..." "Yeh. She kinda just stood there, with her eyes all big..." Stick grinned. "Now, she's seen a couple more -- all bigger than she's used to..." Stick chuckled. "I bet your Ma does some heavy thinkin' in the next few days, Dude!" ------- Chapter 59: Irma's Re-education "Awright, Bitch," Pop resumed, now that he was thickening back up, "today's class in what's real an' what ain't is in three parts. Ya had the explanation -- now it's time for the demonstration!" Irma looked up, confused. Sticking his horse-cock halfway down her throat and spewing semen into her mouth wasn't the main event? Pop was letting her do all the work this time, rather than jamming away; as a result, some sanity had returned. But she was STILL up the creek, buck- naked with a big black cock in her mouth and a choke chain around her neck. Arthur and Ms. Frick were STILL just looking on, letting Mr. Williams do whatever he felt like -- even helping in spots! The fugue state she'd been in at the height of the blowjob was fading, but the confusion over her motives continued, robbing her of strength. What if Mr. Williams was right? Even in general? Well, he had some things to prove... "Awright, hands and knees. Time for the second hole." Pop backed out of Irma's mouth. Turn your big ass..." Pop pondered a minute, playing to both of his audiences, "this way, I think..." The position he placed Irma in, tugging her leash to control her, faced the couch at an angle, giving Arthur and Frieda a view from Irma's front right and the kids in the kitchen a view of her right rear. Irma glared some, but she didn't fight things too much; the choke chain was a constant reminder of who had the upper hand. Her tormentor's voice sounded behind her, conversationally, "This is the demonstration. What is the purpose of a demo? Anybody? To prove you ain't jus' talkin' shit, for one thing. That would be most of what's happenin' here, now. We gonna do this doggy-style, Bitch, 'cause it's how ya do a bitch, and I don't hafta look at all them rolls you got this way. I got a view of your big ass from here to the fuckin' horizon, but that's maybe a good thing..." A finger probed her vagina, and she lurched in surprise -- a movement that stopped abruptly due to a tug on her leash. "Hold the fuck still!" her tormentor grated. "You know you're wet, Bitch? You're in fuckin' heat, here! Jus' goes to prove my point, don't it?" The finger slipped in, and Irma, mortified, realized that he was right. The invading finger wriggled around a bit more, then withdrew; the voice behind her murmured, "No call to do much to get ready..." -- and something the size of a telephone pole started nosing at her opening! Frieda and Arthur had a fine view of the flow of Frieda's facial expressions, from surly to surprised to embarrassed and humiliated to shocked. Irma's eyes bulged and she let out a squawk, then turned her head and gazed wide-eyed over her shoulder. Pop, grinning, was force-feeding Irma his length. It wasn't necessarily pleasant -- Irma wasn't THAT wet -- but he was deliberately making it an experience. There were a couple of additional factors, here -- Irma hadn't used her pussy in quite some time, for one -- but nobody was really looking at them. Pop's foreskin was helping him; where lubrication stopped between it and Irma, he could and did continue to slide through and challenge her inner lining using his own lubricated piston -- then he would back off a bit and push some more cock into Irma's little-used hole. The whites of Irma's eyes were showing all around the irises at this point; Irma's mouth was open, but all she could seem to get out was "Huh!" at every in-stroke. Pop just grinned at her, knowing that it was THE thing to do, psych-warfare. "As I was sayin'..." Pop's cock had been huge in her mouth, but Irma hadn't connected that with the idea of a pussy-expanding experience! No one else -- not even that bastard Chase -- had ever actually bored her open. In reality, the difference wasn't that much -- and having gone unused for as long as it had, Irma's twat had tightened up some -- but it was a new experience. And it kept coming... Ten inches exceeds the normal depth of most women's vaginal passages, and Irma was no exception -- so Pop's cock bashing into her cervix produced another eye-pop for Arthur and Frieda to see, followed by Pop's explanation, "Oops! Bottomed out! Gonna have to work a bit to stretch things..." Irma snapped her head around again, and got visual confirmation; her tormentor wasn't mashed against her ass, he was working free, and she could FEEL the tip of his cock punching her insides! Glazed, she turned her head back to the front, just as Pop started working up to full strokes, "Ohmigod!" Comparison of her current tormentor to Chase was an obvious jump for Irma; he was her last sex partner. Chase had been Arthur's boss for two and a half years -- and he was about as evil as they come. After spending a few months consolidating his position, he'd suddenly visited Irma at home one day. Chase loved to exercise control, and he could be smooth about it, or he could be rough; Irma was a fine target for several reasons. First, her weight problem led to low self-esteem. Second, there was Arthur, who wasn't rapidly climbing the corporate ladder and whose limitations and faults were things Irma tended to comment on in order to prop herself up. Since she believed in those limitations and faults implicitly, that belief was a lever... Chase showed up at the door one bright morning at ten a.m., catching Irma doing housework in a housecoat. After an initial exchange of pleasantries, Chase delivered the sad news, "It's too bad I'm going to have to can Arthur -- he's such a diligent worker..." The ensuing tale of how Arthur had no spark, no growth potential, fed directly into Irma's preconceived notions; only later did Irma come to wonder why he showed up at her home to deliver this bit of bad news. At the time, though, she was looking to preserve her seat on the money train, and she fell right into Chase's trap. "Isn't there anything anyone can do?" And the rest was history... Chase didn't use her often, but he would show up sometime during the week before payday every month and spend part of the day making her suck him and fuck him while abusing her with her physical issues and Arthur's nonexistent personality and intelligence failures. Irma developed a fine case of self-loathing that she transferred to Arthur -- who, after all, was the cause of the whole mess in her mind. Chase's more aggressive sexual style, married to the misconception that he was her savior, suffering Arthur's idiocy for her sake, made it easy to cut Arthur off, sexually; Irma conveniently forgot who was practicing infidelity, too, given her justifications for it. Ironically, when Chase left -- one of his other victims managed to expose his web of deceit and he was quietly bustled out -- Arthur succeeded him in his management position -- but Irma never bothered to put two and two together. The upshot of the whole deal was that Pop Williams wasn't breaking as much new ground as he might have; in many ways, he'd stepped into an old pair of shoes and taken Irma down a series of well-worn paths. As a result, the demolition of her anti-black prejudice (instilled by Chase, incidentally, partly by means of the holding up of one of Arthur's black co- workers as the individual more deserving of Arthur's salary) was given a rocket-assist by his adoption of means similar to his unknown predecessor. In short, Irma was somewhat used to being fucked and told what to think -- and she was being ROYALLY fucked! Chase had been a bit better lover than Arthur -- more size, more aggressive, more controlling. That had ultimately made Chase right in all things and Arthur an idiot. Pop had come in like gangbusters, and he had the equipment to back it up; when his cock hit bottom in Irma he was rolling over her -- physically and mentally -- like a freight train! "I dunno jus' how to deal wit' you, Bitch, you bein' some kinda cross between a pit bull an' a pot-bellied pig like ya are..." Pop grunted. "Guess I'll jus' pound on ya 'til ya howl..." For most people, the look on Irma's face as Pop got into his stride would have been priceless; her mouth was open, and she was gazing at the couch arm through wide, sightless eyes. Irma's whole attention was on her incredibly full pussy and the pneumatic drill made of flesh that was widening and deepening it. Pressure and pain -- except for the intermittent flashes when Pop bashed her cervix again -- were fading to something else; Irma was conditioned to enjoy sex while suffering pain and humiliation, so there were no barriers to the pleasure that began to roll in. For Arthur, though, the view was painful. He knew that look, and he knew that it exceeded anything he had ever managed to extract from Irma; now, fresh atop the admission that he'd been cuckolded by his old boss, he was watching Irma with a different man, and although he had passed on several opportunities to stop it, watching the whole thing and realizing that Irma was going to reap satisfaction from the act hurt. And Irma already was drawing pleasure from Pop's pounding. His thick tool was ironing her entire channel, and even though he wasn't balls deep, his swinging nuts swung between the chubby outer lips of her sex and slapped her clit as he hit bottom on every stroke. Pop dragged the huge, cellulite-pocked, shivering moons of her ass toward him on every stroke, and every stroke it got easier and Irma got more cooperative. Looking at her old man, he felt bad, but the plan was in place and he was makin' it happen... Irma started making little whining grunts at every stroke, and the look on Arthur's face told Pop all he needed to know about where she was... "Shit, Bitch, you even grunt like a pig!" Pop half-expected the comment to shut her up -- but, if anything, Irma got louder... About two and a half minutes in, Pop felt her pussy tighten up; a few strokes later, Irma threw her head back an howled, "Oh, GOD!" and started shaking like a leaf -- or maybe a big bowl of Jell-o. That triggered Frieda; she could contain herself no longer. She came forward and circled the rutting pair, examining the act, the junction between the black man and the white woman, the motions, touching each of them here and there -- not sexually, necessarily, but compulsively. She got down on her hands and knees to look, and circled to watch the play of expression on Irma's face as she chased a second orgasm, then looked up to watch Pop's concentration as he continued to pound Irma in a manner that Frieda had never before witnessed. Returning to Arthur, she murmured, "I never did that. Is it the position? Hubby always lay on top of me..." "I'm sorry?" "She's getting something... primal from this -- I can feel it. Is it because they're doing it that way?" "Oh." Arthur sighed. "No, it's not about position -- at least, not as long as you can actually complete the act. The position you're talking about works, too. It's about -- oh, I don't know -- being properly equipped, physically and mentally." "I see..." Arthur scratched his head. "We're a fine pair; you've never experienced orgasm, and I'm not very good at producing them..." He looked away at the rutting couple before them. Frieda sensed the darkness, the pain in him. "You're being too hard on yourself. There is more to whatever went on than you understand at this point, I think. As for this," she waved at Pop and Irma. "We bought into this without realizing, maybe, just how it was going to be. He's not trying to take her from you; he is just trying to subjugate her, pull her teeth so she cannot hurt anyone." "I know. But she hasn't been mine for a while. I've been hers, sort of -- a possession, a beast of burden, somebody to bring home money. But that's been it, for a long time." They were interrupted by the onset of Irma's second orgasm; Irma turned vacant eyes to the ceilng and moaned, "Oh God! OhgodohgodohgodohgodOHGOD!! OH!! GOD!!!" throwing herself manically back at Pop. Pop grinned, grunting as he continued to thrust through her climax, "Awright, you be takin' it all, now, Bitch! Now we goin' for puppies! Put your head down, Bitch -- I wanna feel your pubic bone!" Irma did as she was told, laying her head on her forearms. Pop picked up the pace, "Awright, this time, I'm gonna shoot in ya! You're gonna have twins from old Pop ta push around in a baby carriage with Mary's kids!" Having gotten that out, Pop looked up and made a throat-cutting gesture of denial, pointed at Irma's head and then whirled a finger beside his ear in the universal gesture for craziness -- but it really wasn't anything Arthur wanted to hear. "I think... I need to go sit down somewhere," he said faintly. Pop made urgent motions at Frieda, who collected Arthur's arm before he could wander off and brought him around -- something only possible because Arthur was beyond resistance. Pop took Arthur's arm and gave him a shake. "Don't run off -- I need ya for the ass-end of this. We'll fix things then so you get a leg up on her ass again, okay?" Arthur nodded, but there wasn't a whole lot of belief in him. Meanwhile, Irma started the final approach to her third orgasm of the session. Pop's pounding had stretched her to the point that now he was getting the whole length of his cock into her -- and bashing her clit with more than just his balls. Add the tilt when he instructed her to drop her head to the floor, and he was dead on her most sensitive spot -- and it was thoroughly effective! "Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!! Oh!! Oh!!! Oh!!! OH!!! OOHH!!! O GAAAAAWWWDDDD!!!!!!!" Irma screeched as the waves poured over her. Pop was in there, swinging, "HERE COMES THEM PUPPIES, BITCH!!!" he yelled, and proceeded to grind himself into her, adding little thrusts to the mix. Irma rode out her climax and basically collapsed as Pop withdrew; she had been lifted higher -- and dropped lower -- than she ever had before. Add a little physical abuse and a lot of psychological trauma, and she was washed out. Pop waved Frieda over and handed her the leash. "If she moves, either haul on this or sit on her -- I need to talk to Arthur, here." Waving Arthur after him, he headed for the dining room. "Awright, it's like this. I didn't cum in her; I ain't Superman, and I can't do three in an hour, so I jerked her chain. Now we're gonna move on to Phase Three. I'm gonna teach her a lesson -- an while we're at it, we're gonna remind her who's on top at your house. When I get goin', I want you ta circle 'round front an' get you a blow job. Git mad and fuck her face; teach her a lesson! She'll remember it later, an' you'll make some ground..." "I'll... think about it." "You should, Man. She owes ya. Might even fix things." Pop lifted the cover off the butter dish in the center of the table and collected a chunk, then grabbed some napkins from the napkin holder. "Let's git started." Irma roused a bit when she realized that someone was playing with her ass. She waved a hand back there, trying to bat whatever it was away -- and got a swat on her left ass cheek for her trouble. "You awake, Bitch?" her tormentor's voice sounded behind her. When she didn't reply immediately, she got another swat, "Pay attention -- I'm talkin' to ya!" "Yes!" she croaked. "Good." Pop started dabbing butter around Irma's brown pucker. "Now we to Phase three, where, havin' proved my point, I punish ya for bein' a bad bitch!" He laid the napkins on Irma's lower back and greased up his middle finger, then without further ceremony poked it as far as he could up her ass. "Any ideas how I'm gonna do that?" "AWP!" Irma's eyes popped at the unwelcome invasion, and she tried to crawl off -- but Pop was holding the leash looped around his left forearm. "Don't fuck around!" he cautioned, "My hands are greasy! You get caught up in that thing and I might be real slow getting' you out!" Irma stopped and concentrated on trying to find a way to move that Pop's finger couldn't follow -- but she wasn't that flexible. Pop pulled the finger, and she breathed a sigh of relief -- but it was so he could go to two, she found out a moment later. "Please... !" She begged. "Sure, sure, gimme a minute..." Pop deliberately pretended to misunderstand while he greased his dick with his left hand. "I know you're in a hurry to get your ass poked and get it over with..." "Wha... ?" What her tormentor had just said barely sank in before something large and blunt made its presence known at her sphincter. "Noooooo!" "Oh, yes, Bitch! Now's the time when you pay for all the shit you caused!" Pop tightened up on Irma's leash so she couldn't escape and began forcing his cock -- rock hard in anticipation of this event -- through the stubborn door to Irma's colon! "AAAAAAA -- URK!" Irma lunged forward and the collar clamped down on her neck, restricting her airway and causing her pain from multiple points -- and, of course, stopping her dead in her tracks. "Hate to say I told ya so..." Pop said, matter-of-factly. "I'll lookit fixin' your collar when I'm in all the way. Meantime, I guess you better not do that again, huh?" He jacked up the pressure on her abused anus, "Ya know, it'll go faster if you're headed this way instead of bein' headed that way! Hold still and back up!" But Irma couldn't do that -- she lacked the will to override the pain. Her virgin asshole was on fire, being ripped to shreds! That telephone pole of a cock... She had no problem visualizing Pop's violation of her protesting anus. Meanwhile, she was panicked, choking... "This be takin' some time," Pop announced. "Mebbe you should ask you old man for some help? I'd be real nice, if I was you..." Arthur! Yes! Looking around, she managed to get her husband's visage to swim into view and beseeched him, croaking, "Please!" "Whatcha gonna give him?" Pop taunted. "I'd at least offer him a blow job, if I was you, after all he does for ya... It's probly the least you could do..." Pop turned his eyes on Arthur. "Yes! Yes! Please!" Irma croaked. Spots were beginning to appear before her eyes. "Up to you, Man..." Pop said, waiting. Arthur strode forward and started wrestling with the collar. "Push on the tines, there, and it'll release," Pop instructed. Arthur did so and the collar loosened with a slight pop. Irma collapsed forward, her lungs pumping like a bellows. Pop hauled on the leash, tightening it again. "Git your ass back in the air, Bitch!" The collar didn't close far before Irma was scrambling backwards, kneeling up. "Better!" He realigned his cock and again started forcing it in through the out door. "Aaahhh! God! Stop! Please!" Irma croaked. "Ain't no stopping this piece, any more than there was the other two. Shit, this one's where I get even! You expect me ta back off that?" Pop grunted. Irma's anus slowly flowered open, continuing to fight its rear guard action in vain. "You're killing me!" Irma squealed. Pop tugged on the leash. -- not enough to tighten it -- just a reminder. "You ain't seen what I seen," he replied. "I could stick my arm up that muthafuckah to the elbow, and you'd be okay after a while... You need to shut the fuck up. An' I DON'T see you suckin' off your old man, yet! That'll keep that fat mouth of your busy..." "Uuh..." Irma, reminded, looked up at Arthur, her expression a clear entreaty to be let off the hook. But Arthur had taken Pop's advice, and let slip his anger. The potency that his shame and humiliation had robbed him of came back with it, and he presented Irma with a full-fledged hard on. "How many of these have you given away to others?" he grated. "Time to start catching up!" Chastened, Irma opened her mouth. Pop, who had paused momentarily to let things on the other end settle out, resumed the attack -- and Irma, caught off-guard, lurched forward. The result was Arthur hitting the back of her throat on no notice, causing her to choke. This demanded a withdrawal -- but to do that meant impaling herself on the hot poker in her ass! Survival brings its own imperatives, however; Irma backed up, coughing. The coughs caused her colon to spasm, and she ended up taking in two inches of Pop's probe in the process! Pop chuckled. "Mebbe you oughta choke her again!" "Maybe!" Arthur glared down at Irma; clearly, the worm had turned! "Suck!" Irma, eyes on her husband's face despite the pain being inflicted on her more than ample ass, set to work on his erection, eyes watering. Pop was deliberately making his effort less than pleasant, and Irma tried to scream "OW! OOH! PLEASE! IT HURTS!" but what came out around her husband's cock was a succession of emphatic moans, "MMM! MM! MMM!! MM MMM!" Pop grinned at Arthur sarcastically and said, "I think she likes it!" He continued jamming away, once again gaining purchase from the extra layer provided by his foreskin. The look this comment generated on Irma's face was priceless, but everyone was busy, so it went without comment. Her ass was on fire, and Arthur wasn't being any too gentle with her mouth, taking her by both sides of the head and ramming himself in and out, grunting, "Come on, show me how you do it..." She was choking, and her ass was shredded and no doubt bleeding -- and trying to handle both at the same time had her taxed to distraction! In an effort to get SOME control over SOMETHING, she put her hands on Arthur's hips. Arthur couldn't decide whether he like this or not, but Pop advised, "Let her work. If she fucks up, slap the shit outta her!" Irma heard him, and when Arthur released her head, she made certain that he could tell the difference. "Of course, you may wanna get in there occasionally to let her know what's good and what ain't..." Pop added. He was mostly inside her now, and moving back and forth in short strokes, opening things up for more serious abuse. "Awright! I'm gonna git mine, now, Bitch -- you make DAMN SURE your ol' man gits his! Thirty minutes with your fuckin' ass an' I KNOW you been fuckin' up by the numbers for YEARS an' you owe him PLENTY! You got me?" Pop swatted her ass with a buttery hand, HARD! "MMMMMMMMMM!!!!" Irma wailed, redoubling her efforts, watching her husband's glaring eyes and angry features. Frieda had backed off to a neutral corner; the violence level was up there a bit too high for her comfort. She continued to watch -- the sex act in front of her was an amazing spectacle, something she'd heard about vaguely but never hoped to witness. But she was happier distancing herself from the more aggressive aspects. Pop started digging in, driving, going for his cum, finally -- bumping Irma with every stroke, making her go "Mmph!" around Arthur's cock. But he had one more trick up his sleeve, and he intended to play it if he could... He'd extracted about as much intense pain from pounding her ass as he could; now, he could tell that she was conforming to him and the pain was banking, settling back to a burn. She didn't need his whole length to get the job done and neither did he, so he worked a hand past his groin and into her drippy slit, finding her clitoris without much of a problem. That done, he started working it between two fingers, adding a new dimension to her perceptions of the act. Arthur saw the move, and saw Irma's eyes pop. Pop grinned at him and winked. Now, bent over her back to work the hand, he hissed, "Yeah, that's right, Bitch! Slut that you are, I'm tearing your ass up -- an' I'm gonna make you ENJOY it!" The idea hit Irma between the eyes -- was that possible? Her tormentor said it was -- and Arthur's hard grin said that HE thought it was... The hand working her nub was giving it too much attention to ignore, and the pain was mostly gone... The telephone pole in her ass was starting to feel a LOT like a telephone pole in her pussy... Oh, Gawd! It WAS possible! Arthur grabbed Irma's ear, giving it a tug, "Hey! Suck, or I'll have him put his fist up your ass!" He wanted to slap her, but he didn't want to interfere too much with what Pop was doing. Irma went back to work, diving on him, and Arthur started to feel a familiar tickle at the base of his cock. "Better! MUCH better! I'm gonna bury this thing -- don't you spill a drop!" Arthur let his orgasm come to him, enjoying it fully, glorying in unaccustomed power over his partner. He cupped his hand behind Irma's head, stuck his glans in the opening of her throat, and started pouring ejaculate into her! Irma was stuck. She tried to swallow, and something happened; Arthur went even deeper! She wanted to gag, but really couldn't get the whole thing going; apparently, it was too late for that. She could feel the pulses from Arthur's semen delivery system on her tongue, but she couldn't taste anything -- obviously, it was going right down her throat! Dazed, she couldn't really digest how she felt about that... "Breathe through your nose, ya silly bitch!" Pop admonished her. He didn't want her passing out or getting any too distracted. Arthur staggered back and Irma took in a big gulp of air, hacked a couple of times, and settled down, looking confused, drool pouring out of her. "Have her clean it off," Pop recommended. "Get some more fun out of it..." Arthur nodded and waded back in, allowing Irma to nurse on him. It was time to finish this freak show. Pop got seriously back to work, both fucking and working Irma's clit, and in a few moments her hips started to dance. Pretty quick, she was going to go off again, and Pop was going to rub it in -- but first, there was one final item... Pop looked directly at the kitchen door and waved his unused arm. "That's our cue," Stick grunted, standing up. Mary nodded. She wasn't really sure she wanted to do this to Momma -- but then, she owed the support to Poppa and everyone else... Teddy stood and followed. Irma had tunnel vision. She was well beyond her limits -- but there was another orgasm coming -- a different orgasm, made of new, strange stuff, but an orgasm, nonetheless. She was sucking on Arthur's cock -- which really wasn't softening up that much -- while she got pounded and rubbed, pounded and rubbed... Pop hissed in her ear, "Hurry up and cum, ya silly bitch, so I can unload in your big, fat ass! Gonna give ya a black cum enema to match the load makin' puppies in your old, sloppy cunt! Can ya feel 'em in there? Can ya? Makin' puppies?" "Ooog! OOOG! OOOOGG!!" Too much imagination put Irma right over the edge! Her pussy spasmed, her ass spasmed -- and Pop got that last little bit he needed, and HE spasmed, pouring semen deep into Irma's colon! "That's it, Bitch! Suck me dry!" Pop jizzed three shots into Irma's rectum, pulled out and shot two more over her back for good measure, then picked up the napkins and wiped off his cock and his hands. Arthur backed off, and Irma collapsed, rolling onto her side, gasping. "Well, Bitch, congratulations! You're a three-hole whore! Say it! Say 'I'm a three hole whore'!" There was no fight left in Irma. "I'm a three hole whore!" she gasped. "Say 'I'm inferior to everybody'!" Pop prompted. "I'm inferior to everybody!" "Say, 'I want half-black grandchildren'!" "I want half-black grandchildren!" "Now roll over and say it again!" Pop directed. Irma rolled over, to find Mary, Stick, and Teddy standing over her. She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, looking at her daughter, then said, "I want half-black grandchildren." Mary eyed the wreck of her mother for a moment, then replied quietly. "Only about half of them will be, at this rate. Teddy's kids will be white. I hope that's all right..." Irma started bawling. Late lunch at the Pinkersley's was done casually in the TV room. Charlotte arranged seating with herself on one side of Claudette and Ted on the other and deliberately distanced a bit in a separate armchair. Charlotte led off, "So, Princess, wasn't breakfast interesting?" "Well, I leaned a few things," Claudette replied carefully. "I have to say the attitudes and the behaviors that you ascribe to this... issue you say I have seem a bit far-fetched." Ted's eyebrows went up; Charlotte, the only one to notice, smiled gently. "You think we're going overboard? Being over-protective, perhaps?" "Well, it certainly seems like it..." "I see. What about your behavior at breakfast, Dear. How would you characterize it?" Claudette thought about it. The conversation had gotten racy... After everyone left, she and Ted had had sex at the table -- but Mom and Daddy probably didn't know that... "Well, things got a little racy..." Charlotte sighed. "Princess, one part of the problem here is that when it's all said and done, some of the most outrageous things seem perfectly reasonable to you; remembering them, you tend to paper over details that others might find particularly memorable. THAT's why you need a keeper!" "Oh, Mom -- you're exaggerating!" "Am I?" Charlotte smiled crookedly. "Let's see, shall we?" She clicked on the TV and queued the VCR. "You see, I had this problem, too -- I really didn't take things seriously until presented with them graphically. Knowing this, your father and I took the liberty of taping our breakfast conversation for later viewing..." Charlotte shut up at that point; the VCR was running. Claudette watched; obviously Mom felt there was something to be learned by this. The first couple of minutes were pretty boring; after all, she'd lived through them that morning -- but after that... It got more and more embarrassing. She'd basically undressed at the breakfast table, more and more aggressively pursued Ted's cock -- actually sucked it! Oh, God! Mom and Daddy were still sitting at the table when she hopped up and started fucking Ted! Daddy stood right there and talked to her while she was... ! By the time it was over, Claudette was cherry red, leaking tears of embarrassment. "Shut it off! Shut it off!" Charlotte got up and went to cuddle her daughter. "There, there, Dear. You really HAD to know... It all seemed pretty reasonable at the time, didn't it?" "Uh huh," Claudette sniffled. "And later? A few minutes ago, you didn't think you had anything to be concerned about, did you?" "No..." Claudette choked out. "I remembered the sex, but I thought we waited..." "We paper over such things," Charlotte related. "You had to actually SEE it to realize that you edited it to get rid of the more embarrassing parts..." She sighed. "Obviously, you're not alone -- did you see the tail end, there?" "What do you mean?" "This." Charlotte rolled back the tape to the point where she got up to stand over the couple. "There! See that?" Claudette watched her father deliberately fondle her mother's naked breast -- right there at the table, with Ted sitting there! Of course, she and Ted were already fucking... "Ted was right on top of things," her mother related. "He noticed that I was losing it and called in your father... If your father hadn't been there, we'd both be rationalizing having shared Ted at the breakfast table -- and perhaps mother-daughter sex..." "Omigod!" "THAT's why you need a keeper, Princess. Do you understand now?" Charlotte asked. "That's why I need a keeper, too -- and it's why I run the business and your father limits himself to running me -- I'm a full-time job..." She nodded at Ted. "Ted has already proven himself; this morning was a case in point. Neither of us sees anything unreasonable in initiating sex ANYWHERE with a man who smells right -- but Ted knows the difference, and can even tell when one of us is slipping." The caution light was on for Claudette; she eyed her new lover closely. "But Ted is a bit of a shark -- what's in it for him?" Her mother chuckled, "Aside from the fact that he can have YOU whenever he wants? However he wants? Wherever he wants? That's power, Dear. Besides, I'm sure he's smelling more blood in the water than that..." Ted nodded warily. "We discussed this some at breakfast; those attributes will be of benefit to both of you." A thoroughly sober Claudette eyed Ted. "The last time I put my welfare in his hands..." "... You survived," Ted finished. "And that wasn't a given, going in. Actually, the LAST couple of times went better than that, I think..." Charlotte smiled crookedly. "Second thoughts?" Claudette grimaced. "No, I have to trust my instincts in this. The controllable ones." "It doesn't benefit me to smear you, Honey," Ted murmured. "That would be stupid, and would interfere with both our goals. I can avoid that temptation." He rose. "I need to leave; even MY folks start wondering, eventually. Give me a kiss?" Claudette rose. "I'll see you to the door." "Come back, after," Charlotte called. "We need to talk further." "Shit, even I know THAT fuckin' pair!" Roland grunted. They were on their third stop, shadowing the Staffordshire Farms truck -- something fairly simple to do, since their deliveries to the larger groceries were always smaller than Staffordshire's. They could come late and leave early -- or come early and just hang out... No one had twigged, yet. At every stop, the pattern repeated itself; the truck arrived, two or three guys who had no business unloading a truck appeared out of nowhere, one box went away, and someone in the store hierarchy got a wad of cash. Nate nodded. "I guess the reason why we don't get a lot of shelf space in the bigger stores is becoming clear..." "Yeh," Draper agreed. "Stores get some free labor and a chunk of cash; dope dealers get paid off in drugs. Regular supply chain. Everybody's happy." "Anybody keep a list of who's who?" Roland asked. "I got it," Nate replied, "And I know who to give it to." "Cops?" Roland asked. "Nah. I know somebody who knows somebody up at the headquarters. They'll want to make a buck off this," Nate replied. Roland shook his head. "Wondered how the fuck y'all just wandered in..." "Yeah, well... Bet you see a nice bonus..." Nate left it at that. "THAT wouldn't fuckin' hurt!" Roland said feelingly. It took twenty minutes to get Irma's emotions under control and get her back into her clothing. It was decided that Mary would escort her home, as it was generally felt that she needed some support. There was still some serious role-play going on -- Pop and Arthur held themselves aloof and would not accept apologies, allowing Mary, Teddy, and Stick to become her sources of sympathy and support. Finally, she was out the door. Pop flopped in a chair. "Awright, I think her attitude is adjusted. Mebbe that wasn't the way, but it worked..." Things stopped there, due to an unexpected interruption; Rose walked in. "Husband, what did you do to that woman? I just saw her getting into a car... What's that smell? Thurnock Williams, I smell SEX!" The end of this piece of dialog found Rose hovering over her husband with her hands on her hips. "Uuhh..." Pop, totally in control of things for the past hour or so, was suddenly thoroughly derailed. Rose turned to the other adults present, "All right, SOMETHING happened here -- what was it?" Pop sighed. "Been like Peyton Place in here. Lemme start at the startin' place..." He nodded at a chair. "Best sit down -- it's gonna take a while." Rose parked herself in a chair. "Go on..." Arthur whispered to Frieda, "I don't envy him when he gets to the part where..." "No kidding!" Frieda giggled, despite herself -- probably from tension. Rose glanced around, but Pop wasn't off the hook. She stared him down until he kicked it into gear. "Well, ya heard the early crap, an' ya know what set me off. An' ya know I collected everbody. Well, I got to the bottom of things, my way, an' found out that some things we heard was true, an' some was false..." Rose turned an eye on her son for a moment, but returned her attention to Pop, who saw an excuse to stop explaining... "Uh, that's Teddy. Woman over there is Miz Frick -- Frieda?" Frieda nodded. "That's Mary's old man -- name's Arthur. This is Rose, my wife -- Stick's mother." Rose nodded all around, but that was it -- Pop didn't escape. After suffering under the glare for a bit, he continued, "Upshot is this: Stick and Mary are fuckin' -- we got a demo." Rose raised a finger, but held it back -- best to get it all... "Teddy an' Mary are fuckin' -- more'n we were led to believe." Rose favored her son with another glare. "Tough nut to crack was whether Teddy an' Stick were fuckin' -- turns out they are..." "WHAT?" Rose was up out of her chair. "HOLD IT!" Pop roared. Rose turned to Pop, turned to the boys, turned to Pop -- and sat back down. "Nobody's dead here..." "Yeh." Pop nodded. "When it was all said and done, I bought in. Goes kinda like this -- ever hear of bisexual?" "Not really," Rose replied. "Sounds like a cop-out." "Uh, Arthur?" Pop wanted to shift things, if possible. This was an open door... Rose eyed him. "I thought you was tellin' this..." "Arthur explained it the first time. He's got a better handle on shit." Rose swung her attention to Arthur, who took up the explanation, "Sexual orientation isn't, uh, black and white -- forgive the pun. It's a continuum, with shades of grey. There are a lot of factors... Basically, it is a tolerance thing; someone who is really gay can't really get into a relationship with someone of the opposite sex, and someone who is really straight can't get emotionally involved with someone of the same sex. But there is a lot of area in between. Girls who aren't lesbians can still enjoy lesbian sex, and boys who aren't gay can enjoy sex acts that are gay in nature. When you look at it, except for actual intercourse, most of the other stuff we do for one another can be handled by a member of either sex..." "So getting butt-fucked don't make you queer?" Rose asked. "Would it make YOU queer?" Arthur responded. Rose flashed a glance at Pop. "I guess not." "Culturally, we have a big thing about this with males -- and it has more to do with dominance than anything else. You can't be top dog in your group if you're on your knees before someone else. Boys have to protect their position in the pecking order, so that kind of thing is basically out -- and they bend every effort to ensure that they don't appear approachable. Thus, we have homophobia. In other cultures, males hug -- even kiss -- as acceptable heterosexual social behavior -- but not in this country." Arthur paused a moment, while Rose absorbed all this. When he got the nod, he continued, "As an aside, the barriers aren't so high for females -- in some cases, males encourage it, and certainly without the discovery that they can become emotionally involved with another woman, homosexual encounters between females are peccadillo, by comparison. But boys have to be circumspect, or they're ruined, socially. Are we good thus far?" "Go ahead." 'When do we get to the important parts?' "Sexual experimentation occurs, anyway -- many times, it's between siblings, because of the trust involved. Or good friends. It goes on on both sides of the aisle, and it is usually early on, when they are just discovering that their equipment has pleasurable uses. Usually, they conduct a couple of experiments, gain some confidence with their sexuality, discover the opposite sex, and move on." "You saying they discover boys first? Girls discover girls first?" Rose asked. "I didn't..." "Well, many don't. It is only one scenario. You probably played doctor with a boy... Or you watched someone else..." "Okay, okay..." Rose didn't want to go there. "Boys who have homosexual experiences early tend to have them in an atmosphere of equality, before the pressures over social status become important -- and it all gets tucked under the rug as those pressures take effect. Boys who first experience homosexual sex later are more likely to be polarized into one of two groups. The first group is those individuals generally called tops -- they accept sexual favors from other males as a tribute, an enhancement of their status. They control their relationships. They may accept sex equally readily from males or females, or they may prefer one or the other -- and they may get a power trip from dominating another male. The second group is submissive, for one reason or another. Generally, they perceive themselves as having no shot at the upper end of the pecking order -- maybe they are weak, or sensitive, or merely do not have the proper skills or the will to use them. They are called bottoms. They will submit to a top, giving him the gift of their sexuality -- and usually accepting either protection or a validation of their lowly position and self-image in return." "And?" 'Jeezus! Psychological bullshit... ' Arthur sighed. "This is all a range, as I said before. But Teddy is a bottom, who started sex late in the game. He's quiet, none too strong, kind of lightly built, intelligent, sensitive... Being a jock was out. Girls weren't interested. So he started experimenting with homosexual sex in places where it was possible to do it anonymously." Arthur waved at the boys. "Enter Stick, who isn't doing any better romantically, but who has a different personality and drives. How much sex had you had before Prom Night, Stick?" 'Shit, I'm in enough trouble... ' "Couple a' bad blowjobs from Beulah Tyrone..." "So then you get a GOOD blowjob..." "Yeh." Stick's eyes were hooded. Arthur turned to Rose. "Do you begin to see?" "Some." Rose wasn't liking it. "Enter Mary -- literally five minutes after these two hook up," Arthur continued. "Mary had been considering 'reforming' Teddy for a while, but he was scared to death of her. Right, Teddy?" "Yessir." "Stick's friend Nate had just collected Mary's girlfriend Nora, which suggested an alternate option to Mary, too -- and she picked up the vibe, which gave her blackmail material on both boys. How am I doing, Stick?" "Battin' a thousand," Stick muttered. "Mary's mother and I gave her what amounted to a palace over the garage, and her mother had set a policy of looking the other way while Mary searched for boys -- a policy I was not in agreement with, by the way," Arthur continued. "But it provided the three of them with peace and quiet and an opportunity to compare apples and oranges -- so by the end of the night, both Stick and Teddy had experienced their first girl." "How do you know all this?" Rose asked. "I caught them, soon after," Arthur replied. "That night, nobody made any promises. They decided to experiment seriously, one on one and as a group until something fell out. But nothing fell out -- each of them cemented a relationship with each of the other two. Mary couldn't choose between them early on because she ran the risk of choosing wrong -- but the boys are very different, physically, mentally, and emotionally, and she found that she couldn't choose between apples and oranges. Teddy suddenly had two people who accepted him for what he was -- one male and one female. Being gay didn't seem like the only route any more, but there wasn't any reason to give up activities that he'd learned to enjoy -- especially since he was being cherished and protected by both of the others. Stick had two sex partners, both of whom looked to him for leadership and protection and each of whom offered something different in the way of sexual experience." "Okay, so they're all wrapped up in each other. How queer is Stick?" Rose asked. "Not very," Arthur replied. "If it weren't for the emotional bond, Stick could walk away at any time. Stick is acting as a top in this relationship, and he accepts more than he gives, from a sexual standpoint. I'm sure, for instance, that he doesn't get excited around guys. Stick see's Teddy as being almost feminine, I think." "Look, is he sucking dicks? Is he taking it up the ass?" Rose asked. 'How am I going to cover this with the girls?' "Stick?" Stick shrugged and glanced at Teddy, who had his head down. "Action's all going the other way. Mr. Nally's been rubbin' my nose in shit, while he gets us down to it. But things ain't changed, really. I'm not gonna want it in the ass, and Ted don't care about that, anyway. But, yeah, I suck dick. One dick. His. 'Cause he deserves to get it done. An' you know what? He's gonna get it more often in the future!" He glared at his mother. Rose sat still for a moment, then looked at Pop. "I'm back to being surprised that he's still here." Pop shrugged. "I come up satisfied that what he says is true -- an' I was impressed that all three of 'em was busy coverin' his ass. Last, I seen that Mary knew all about it and wasn't jealous or anything. The cock suckin' came hard -- and all three of 'em was in there swinging, trying to keep it buried. And when it came out, the first one to say anything was Mary -- takin' the blame for it!" "What would SHE have to do with it?" Rose asked. "Mary twisted Stick's arm because he wasn't giving Teddy anything back in the relationship," Arthur supplied. "Since then, I think they all realize that there are other dimensions where Stick is providing support -- but from a pure 'have you done so and so' point of view, the damage was done." "But they cain't continue like this, can they?" Rose asked. Arthur shrugged. "I guess it depends on how much support they get." "Oh." Rose turned back to her husband. "And you made up your mind, how?" "I'm gonna let 'em be. Shit, that wasn't the main event..." Pop shut up, realizing that he'd just blown his chance at distraction. "Well, Husband, let's talk about the main event! All I was worried about was how Stick avoided being strung up!" "The main event was neutralizing my wife," Arthur supplied. "That didn't look any too promising. Your husband's method of attitude adjustment... wouldn't have been my first choice, but it had the virtue of being effective." Rose turned back to Pop, and Pop started tap dancing. "Well, uh..." "Husband?" "She was still on the race kick and the sex kick, and made some Black Superman comment, so I..." "You didn't!" "I made a bet with her." "And the bet was?" "I bet her that my dick was longer than Arthur's, there. If she won, I'd make Stick leave her daughter alone." "And if you won?" "I turned her every which way but loose." Rose turned to Arthur. "She actually agreed to this bet?" "Yes. Your husband offered to take my feelings into account in the matter, but Irma was on a roll and insisted that I should have no say in the matter." "Did he bet even?" Rose asked. "He spotted me three inches." "Then what happened?" "She lost of course. Then, realizing her mistake, she tried to weasel out. She said some unkind things to me during the initial phases, though, and your husband appeared to have a plan, so I left her to her own devices," Arthur replied. Rose turned to her husband. "You had sex with this man's wife? In front of him?" "Yeh." "Let me guess: you ran that game you hit that fat girl in the bar with the night I met you." "Uh, basically. We tuned it a bit." Rose turned to Arthur, "That couldn't have been nice for you. That thing can backfire, you know! She could end up believing that crap and start chasin' bruthuhs!" "I'm aware of that," Arthur replied. "Given that she informed me in the heat of the moment that she had already been unfaithful for some time, there is some question whether that is even an issue." "I got him into it at the tail end," Pop interrupted. "Gave him a shot at gettin' some respect back from her." "You've had a lousy afternoon," Rose said to Arthur, "haven't you?" "Yes. But it... seemed justified. I'm pretty sure it worked." Rose turned on her husband. "And YOU slept around on me!" Pop raised his hands. "It wasn't for fun! Did you SEE her? No offense." "None taken," Arthur intoned. "I suppose your son saw all of this?" "Enough..." "Mama," Stick piped up. "I seen it, but Pop's right -- it was the thing to do at the time. It took all the starch outta her." Rose's eyes swept to Teddy. "Is that also your opinion?" "Yes, Ma'am. It was the finest piece of psych warfare I ever saw!" Rose turned to Frieda. "The males are unanimous. What about you? Was the whole thing justified?" "It was... very violent at times," Frieda replied. "But it was also impressive and effective. I don't know much about these things, but I felt good enough about it at the time not to interfere." Rose drew herself erect. "Husband, I can't overlook this. Something will have to be done, even if it WAS the thing to do! I have an idea..." She turned to Frieda, "Can you take the boys back to your house? We need to handle this in privacy." "Certainly." "Boys, go with Frieda. Stick, give us a call in a couple of hours." "Mama, you're not talkin' divorce, or anything?" "No, Boy. I'm just thinkin' of giving your father a dose of his own medicine. Run along." Rose waved to Frieda, who headed for the door, the boys trailing her. Arthur got up. "I should be going, too." "I wish you wouldn't," Rose replied. "Punishing my husband will be a lot harder if you do." "Sorry?" "Two people been hurt by this thing, whether it was good or it wasn't -- you and me. Time we put the shoe on the other foot." "You don't mean..." "I do. Do you have any problem having sex with a black woman?" "No..." "Good! HE can watch! Let's go! Come along, Husband -- I'M doing this in a bed! OUR bed!" Arthur looked at Pop, who shrugged. "She told me one time she'd do somethin' like this if I fucked up. I'm thinkin' it's fair, if that's the end of it. I TOLD ya I'd owe ya... Le's jus' keep it in the family, huh?" Arthur shrugged and followed Rose out. ------- Chapter 60A: The New Order Irma was emotional on the way home, apologizing and berating herself. Only one exchange really bothered Mary... "Mary, is Stick... hung like his father?" "You saw it, didn't you?" "I was busy being outraged, I'm afraid. It wasn't a good idea at the time," Irma replied. "Well, he's a bit above average, but nothing like his father. I've seen white guys Stick's size." "How on Earth do you compare him and Teddy? The poor boy..." "Momma, Teddy is totally different -- that thing is so wide... Believe me, it's good, too!" "Well, all right, Punkin, if you say so..." Mary got her mother home and cleaned up, but she was still an emotional wreck, so she put her to bed. Her father didn't show up until almost six, which worried her, "Poppa, what took you so long?" "Mrs. Williams came back and we had a whole new situation on our hands. It took a while to defuse that and handle the aftermath." Arthur smiled, "If your mother settles down, we may recover from getting off on the wrong foot with the Williams." 'And if she doesn't, ' Arthur thought, 'Rose expressed some interest in seeing Irma pulling a train wearing a dog collar... ' Rose had turned out to be a demanding fuck; Arthur had learned a few things -- among which was the fact that women aren't really that breakable. She'd made Thurnock watch while she gave Arthur a little bit of everything -- even anal -- but the only cum Arthur got was where it belonged -- in her pussy. That was something Thurnock hadn't done to Irma, but Rose more or less insisted, and nobody else was in a position to say no -- Thurnock because he was being punished, and Arthur because Rose wrapped her legs behind his ass and wouldn't let him withdraw! Arthur figured that years of taking an elephant dick like Thurnock's would make Rose sloppy, but she was fine and tight and Arthur had a great time! When it was over, Rose assured him that he had nothing to be ashamed of in the sex department; he'd apparently lasted longer than her husband usually did and offered a bit firmer ride. "Besides, being a bit more considerate of your partner is a good thing, sometimes," Rose had said, glaring at poor Thurnock. Thurnock ('Call me Pop') had winced at the criticisms, but, hey, Rose was punishing him wasn't she? "Things don't look good for you and Momma right now," Mary ventured. "Certainly, she has some explaining to do," Arthur agreed. "I'm not going to live as I have been, that's for sure! Still, maybe this incident put a dent in her behavior. We'll have to talk. Where is she?" "In bed. She was still a little leaky, and Pop Williams was pretty rough on her physically, too!" "That was all part of the treatment," Arthur replied. "Has she settled down about you and the boys -- or is she backsliding, already?" "I think she's okay," Mary replied. "Well, I probably need to consolidate things a bit," Arthur announced. "If you'll excuse me?" "Take it easy, Poppa..." "I don't think so," Arthur argued. "I think now is the time to see to it that she understands which end is up!" "Well..." Mary wasn't thrilled, but this was beyond her control. "The boys are at Frick's," Arthur added, over his shoulder. "If you're uncomfortable staying here, I'm sure they'd love to see you!" Irma sat up in bed as Arthur entered the room. "Arthur," she moaned. Clearly, she was dreading the upcoming conversation. "Did you enjoy your visit with the Williams?" Arthur grunted sarcastically. "I have to say that it was interesting seeing you on the receiving end, for a change! Unfortunately, you managed to publicly humiliate me in the process! Fortunately, I guess, I now have witnesses for the adultery charge... Perhaps you should tell me about Chase?" Irma winced, for the fourth time since Arthur began speaking. "He said... he said he was going to fire you!" "Obviously, you believed him..." Arthur replied scathingly. "I don't suppose that it has occurred to you that it is a bit odd that I now have his job?" "Uuuhhh..." It hadn't. Irma had gotten into the habit of believing just about anything bad about Arthur -- and discounting anything good... "Was this once, then?" Arthur asked. "N-no," Irma replied. "He would come along a bit before payday and tell me all about how Mr. Sharp or Ms. Delaney was so much more qualified..." "And then what would happen?" "And then we'd have sex, and he would treat me more or less like Mr. Williams did -- not quite as bad, but along the same lines." "When were you going to get around to telling me?" Arthur wanted to know. "I don't know!" Irma wailed. "At first, it seemed like it should be a secret; later, I was pissed that I was carrying your poor dumb ass and you didn't even notice..." Arthur shook his head in disgust, "... Largely because that wasn't what was happening. How long?" Irma shrugged. "Two years?" Arthur shook his head. "Chase used people; he did it at work, and he did it outside. He got fired because he tried to run his game on someone with backbone, and the whole thing unraveled. If you had said something to me, it would have happened sooner!" "He was... very convincing..." "He played to your poor opinion of ME -- so you swallowed it, hook, line and sinker! The comments you make! You're unbearably embarrassing at company functions! You gave him everything he needed to know to be able to use us both!" Arthur worked up to a full rant. "So, how many times, do you think?" "Two dozen? Visits, not acts -- he always seemed to get in more than one... He would spend his time telling me how fat and skanky I was, how lousy my blowjobs were..." Arthur displayed anger at that, so she hurried on, "how he was doing me a favor by even bothering... I think I started gaining weight to make myself less desirable, not that it worked..." Arthur shook his head. "I don't think Chase could get Grade A -- besides, it was something else he could use against you -- your poor self- image." He eyed her. "Why didn't you recover after he left?" "He had me thoroughly convinced that you weren't worth it -- I'd been paying for you, covering your ass for two years... The fact that he was gone just meant that I didn't have to have sex to keep you in a job -- it didn't mean you were any more worthy." Irma sighed. "If anything, it took things out of my hands; the next time somebody realized you were worthless, I wouldn't be able to fix it." "So I didn't rate sex..." "ESPECIALLY not THAT!" Irma replied. "Although, now that I think about it, it might have been that I felt wrong about what I was doing..." Arthur nodded. "Maybe, if you looked at things closely, YOU didn't deserve sex..." He shook his head. "I think we can add stupid and ungrateful and untrusting to your list of issues." Irma looked like she was thinking about bridling, so Arthur added another charge, "I noticed that you had no trouble cumming while being abused and humiliated. Is that the new game, then?" "I, uhh," Irma stammered. THAT was embarrassing! She'd even managed to cum while having a cock -- a BIG cock -- jammed up her ass! "I think," Arthur continued, "that you've reached the point of getting off hearing about what a worthless cum-dumpster you are -- which plays into my hands, actually. From now on, you can hear all about that from ME! From now on, you're going to EARN your keep around here! You're going to keep me happy -- because the alternative is to be on the street without alimony! If you want something beyond the household budget I assign to you, you'll get my permission -- and by God you'll EARN it! And if you piss me off, you'll get punished like the cunt you are -- maybe I WILL put you out on the street to see if the dogs will sniff your ass! What do you think of that?" "Uuuuhhh, errrr..." He couldn't be SERIOUS, could he? "Get over here! I see I'm going to have to prove that I'm serious! Get up, get out of that nightgown so I can see your skanky ass, and blow me!" "Arthur!" But he had a hand in her hair, and was rubbing her face against his crotch... "Get it out! Now! You'd better hope you can coax a hard-on out of me, if you plan on eating this week!" Arthur didn't bother to mention that he'd been ridden hard and put up wet since she blew him the first time that day... Irma found herself tearing at Arthur's belt. God! The LAST thing she wanted was to be out on the street! While it occurred to her that she was being manipulated, who had more right than Arthur? Where was this new Arthur coming from, anyway? Probably, it was just anger; all she had to do was handle his immediate anger at her betrayals, and things would level out... That sufficed to get his cock into her mouth. But Irma was operating from a certain lack of vision; Arthur had watched a master at work on her earlier in the day, and recent revelations had exposed her as nowhere near the opponent that he had always assumed she was. Having gotten beyond her bluster and discovered that her armor was about as permeable as Swiss cheese, Arthur was declaring the new order; Irma could comply or, frankly, be replaced. The weapons he had made that a viable threat, anyway, and Arthur had recently discovered that Irma was more vulnerable to threats than previously believed. That being the case, he resolved to push wherever possible; having allowed her to absorb his semi- erect cock, he let her bathe it in saliva for a bit before reaching over her back and swatting her on the ass, "I SAID get out of that nightie!" "Ow!" Irma stopped to glare -- and Arthur took a handful of her hair and tilted her head back so she could get a better look. "Now would be good..." Disconcerted, Irma lumbered up, grasping the hem of the nightie; Arthur let go of her hair so she could follow through. When it was off, he grunted, "I'd say you were pretty successful at making yourself unappetizing. Suck!" He pulled her back down to his crotch. Irma shrugged to herself and re-engaged his penis, and Arthur announced, "You have thirty days to drop twenty pounds of that big ass of yours -- after that, you'll eat what I say you can, and to punish you I'll fuck that big ass of yours every night until you're one big hemorrhoid or you've lost the weight, one or the other! Understand?" "Urk!" Lose weight? Twenty pounds? What was this? "How many times have you had anal sex?" Arthur demanded. Irma went to back off, but Arthur had her hair again, "You can show me fingers -- it hasn't been THAT many, has it?" Irma held up one finger. "Just Mr. Williams?" Irma managed a nod. "So much the better." He cupped the back of her head, driving her forward onto his erection. "From here on out, I don't take any shit from you! You can shape up and do as you're told, or you can hit the street. And you owe me, so I'll be collecting, starting with about four years worth of sex! Understand?" "Ulp!" "Chase was right -- you suck at blow jobs. I think I'll ask Teddy to give you lessons -- he already knows what a slut you are..." Yeah, things were going to change around the Nally household... ------- The Hansens and Louise were sitting up the block from her house -- in a different vehicle, for a couple of reasons. First, Donna wanted to see this for herself; second, it was probably better not to return in the pickup, since it would be recognized. Becky whistled. "Wow! She really DID dump your stuff on the porch!" "Why is it that you two insist on assuming that either of us would lie about a thing like that?" Mark growled. "Welcome to the doghouse, Dad," Dwayne muttered. "Becky can tell any fairy tale she wants..." "Enough, you two!" Donna grated. Turning to Louise, she asked, "Do you want to try again?" "Well..." No, she didn't, but... "I will if you think I should." "I don't think you should!" Dwayne erupted. "You're not a parent," Donna replied. "I think you ought to give it a shot -- she's had time to cool down." Dwayne and Mark passed a glance. "Okay." Gamely, Louise exited the vehicle and headed up the walk to her home. This wasn't going to happen, but she knew that Dwayne's mother would only believe what she saw. If it supported Dwayne, it was worth it... Gathering herself, she knocked on the door, "Mother! I'm home! We should talk!" "Talk! I'm THROUGH talking to you! You never listen, anyway!" The door flew open and Helene stuck her head out, "You had SEX with a BOY in MY HOUSE!!!" "Mother, I had to meet a boy, someday!" Louise countered. "No boy has ever been good enough..." "They're animals! ALL of them!" Helene screeched. "What am I supposed to do, then, date girls?" "Are you into THAT, TOO? Is there no end to the crimes against God you will commit? Where did you get that outfit? Sluts are Us?" Helene shook her head. "You're eighteen -- I'm done with you! Don't bother coming back to ME when you're barefoot and pregnant and have AIDS! Take your crap and LEAVE!!!" The door banged shut. "Mother!" Louise tugged at the door, but it was locked. She tried her key, but the deadbolt was thrown, too. She hammered on the door, "Mother!" A front window opened and a gun stuck out. "Go away! Stop bothering me, or I'll call the police! Take your garbage and LEAVE!" The window banged shut. "Omigawd! Is that a gun?" Donna screeched. "Sure looks like it..." Mark agreed. "I think we can guess how THAT went..." He put the car in gear and pulled up next door. Turning to Dwayne, he said, "I imagine she needs help..." Louise, crying, was collecting an armload of her things from the porch and yard; the promised cardboard box was nowhere in sight. Turning to his sister, Dwayne said, "Keep an eye out, Mouth! I can trust you to yell if that gun shows up again..." Ignoring Becky's snort of outrage, he got out and went to help Louise. "I knew it wasn't going to happen," Louise sniffled, "but your mother wanted to see..." "It's okay, Honey. I appreciate it that you put yourself out like that. Let's get your stuff and go..." Dwayne's father popped the trunk, and they piled things in there. Again, there was nothing in the way of clothing; whatever bug that bit Helene on that subject was still in force. After they had collected everything that looked salvageable -- there were a lot of broken bits of this and that scattered about the yard from Helene's tantrum -- Dwayne and Louise re-entered the car. "I've never seen anything like that in my life!" Donna exclaimed as Mark pulled the car out and headed it toward home. "Do you two fight all of the time, or something?" "No," Louise sniffled. "Mother is just extremely strict. I do what she tells me..." "... But you didn't in this case, did you?" Donna prompted. "No. If I did what Mother said in this matter, I would never even MEET a boy, never mind DATE one! I've never been to a dance, or a party -- even the movies with friends until a few days ago! You've seen what I wear!" "She's right, Mom! Her stuff is godawful, and she has NO social life at all!" Becky interjected. Dwayne, seeing where things were headed, interjected, "Louise, is, well, a bit of a mouse. She does what she's told, basically all the time -- I ran into it early on. You'll notice it real quick..." "So did you tell her to... ?" Donna pounced. Dwayne colored. "We had a special case for that." "I bet you did!" "No, he's right!" Louise came to Dwayne's rescue. "Dwayne was very clear about it -- he didn't want me to ever look back on our first time and think about how I was pushed into it. I had to ask -- and I had to be very clear!" "You didn't push her?" Donna probed. "No Ma'am!" It was a chorus. "Dear, why would you want to rush right out and have sex with Dwayne?" Donna inquired gently. Louise looked puzzled. "Why would I NOT want to? Dwayne is wonderful!" "You don't have to give a boy sex to hold onto him..." Donna chided. "Okay..." Louise continued to look at Dwayne's mother as if she was dense. "You don't agree?" Donna asked. "Sure," Louise replied. "But I WANTED to have sex. And I WANTED to have sex with Dwayne!" "EWWW!" Becky interrupted. Louise turned to Dwayne, "Is there something wrong with you that you haven't told me about, Sweetheart?" "What? No..." "Then why do they act like you have some disease, or something?" "Umm, Mom pretty much figures I've suddenly become this fanged vampire thing that molests every girl in sight. Becky -- Becky's just doing the little sister thing," Dwayne replied, grinning slowly. Louise turned to Donna, "Don't you have sex with your husband?" "Well, yes, but we're married!" "Didn't you have sex before you got married?" "Maybe we should change the subject," Donna pressed, exasperated. "Well, this thing keeps popping up," Louise argued, "and it's WRONG! I want a relationship -- a FULL relationship -- with Dwayne. I want it ALL! Sex surfaced as soon as I realized how wonderful he is! He's had ample opportunity to make like a wolf, and he showed a lot of restraint." Donna snorted. "Restraint! You've been dating -- what -- three days?" Louise shook her head. "You don't get it! I'm... not very independent, and not very strong... If Dwayne had insisted, we'd have had sex Friday night!" "What!?" Donna was nonplussed. "I went to a lot of trouble to put myself out there for him to find -- and I was scared to death! Dwayne could have rolled right over me -- but he didn't." Louse put her hand to her boyfriend's cheek. "Last night would have been even easier -- but instead he told me that he wasn't going to push and that if and when, I had to be clear. So this morning, I was clear. VERY clear." Mark, in the front seat, rolled his eyes, "How clear were you?" "I got naked in the middle of the living room and asked him pretty please! All right?" Louise asked, exasperated. "Jeezus! Really?" Becky wanted to know. "Really! Now leave him alone!" Louise ranted. "Well, I never..." "You would if you loved him!" Louise retorted hotly. Then her eyes popped and she covered her mouth. "I mean..." Donna frowned. "It's a bit early for that, isn't it?" "Yes," Louise turned her head. "I... misspoke. I was talking kind of generally..." Donna eyed her for a moment, then turned back around to the front without saying anything. Becky was snorting, trying to contain laughter. Dwayne murmured, "Thanks..." "I'm sorry! I was trying to help!" Louise whined. "I know you were, Honey. But it'll take a bomb or something to get them to lay off..." He rubbed her shoulder. "Don't worry about it." He eyed her, "What about the other thing?" "I got carried away," Louise replied, poker-faced. The LAST thing she needed was to scare him off with wild love noises! Dwayne eyed her dubiously, and she continued, "That's my story, and I'm sticking to it!" Dwayne glanced around, got the all-clear, and leaned in to kiss her. Louise took it on the lips and let them flower open, going for a real kiss, not just a peck. Becky, of course, detected it within seconds -- and was disgusted. "EWWWW! Get a room!" Dwayne broke it off, but he didn't go far. As Louise turned her head back to the front, his breath warmed her ear, "Liar." "Yes." She blushed hotly while his hand squeezed hers. ------- "Awright!" Roland grunted. "Le's get this thing cleaned up -- I'm gonna go tell DiAngelo he's got another winnah..." They were back at the loading dock at the Wilson warehouse, the run completed. "How ya wanna handle the other bullshit?" he asked Nate. "We can tell DiAngelo -- but I'll pass the details to my connection. Boss should know what's goin' on, though." "Awright. Back in a bit." Roland wandered off while Nate and Draper got into rain gear and washed the truck. In a few minutes, he was back. "Awright, DiAngelo says drag your shit around tomorrow an' he'l put ya on the payroll for part-time, Draper. I wouldn't do it now; Stella ain't worth a shit with cum rollin' down her leg -- shit she's bad enough when she's concentratin'!" Roland chuckled and turned to Nate. "Y'all told him 'bout Stella, right?" "Yeh." Everybody chuckled. "I told DiAngelo you guys got some idea what the fuck is goin' on wit' the stockin' an' he'll wait ta hear somethin'. Cool?" "Cool." Nate nodded. "Awright. Later, then." Roland wandered off. Nate and Draper cleaned up, Nate clocked out, and they headed for the car. Once they were on their way, Draper asked, "What's Nora's old man gonna do 'bout this?" Nate shrugged. "Can't even guess -- but it'll be sneaky..." "Yeh, I bet." Twenty minutes later, Draper was home and Nate was pulling into the drive at the mansion. Jorge took the car, something that never failed to give Nate a chuckle -- it was a total waste of garage space. Nora was waiting inside the door; one kiss and he backed off, though, which surprised her. "Your Daddy around? Or that Jason guy?" "Both, I think. Why?" Nora asked, surprised. "Saw something today he's gonna want to know about." Nate pulled his notes out of his pocket. "Okay..." Nora was puzzled, but if Nate thought it was important... Ten minutes later, they were all in the study. Armand was poring over Nate's list of characters. He called Witherspoon. "I've got a list of names -- drug dealers, small-time ones. I need to know if they're Rodday's people." "Okay. Want to fax it?" Two minutes later, Witherspoon came back, "No connections we're aware of." "Get me Rodday's office number." Witherspoon did so, and Armand made another call... Rodday wasn't in a good mood. Half his lieutenants had something or the other broken, and the other half were spooked. Several of the girls were acting up, too. "Yeah!" "Armand Wilson, here." Rodday stifled the urge to hang up. "What now? I'm not bothering you..." '... for now... ' "I have a peace offering, of sorts. Care to listen?" Rodday counted to ten. "All right." "Okay. In the first place, Flood's manhood is in one piece. I was going to get around to telling you that, anyway -- we just faked it. The other, more important item concerns your other business -- the one I don't approve of." "I'm listening..." "Do you know these people?" Armand rattled off a half-dozen names. "Yeah." "They buy from you?" "No." "Do you know who their supplier is?" "No." "I do." "So?" "I can let you cut them off, and maybe make a profit out of the deal -- or I can let the cops do it." Armand offered. "I'm guessing that you like the supplier less than me." Rodday murmured. "Something like that," Armand agreed. "You aren't in competition with me -- he is. I'm willing to let bygones be bygones; if you hijack one or two of his shipments, I don't think he's got the wherewithal to do anything about it. Since he's theoretically legitimate, he can't squeal too loudly; he'll probably quietly drop out of the business, leaving you with more customers." "Why not do the cops?" Rodday asked. "There are people in his supply chain I'd prefer not to see get caught. If he runs into trouble, they'll jump ship -- but if the police are involved, they'll get smeared, which will be ugly. I just want the thing to fall apart." Armand replied. "What if he starts some shit?" "I will lend you resources," Armand replied. "I'll see to it that he gets cut off close to home." "Sounds like a plan. What am I looking for?" "A meat packing truck," Armand replied. "Some of the contents will be meat, but a significant part of the load will be pharmaceuticals. The driver knows the difference -- but it would add insult to injury if your people tore up the whole load, looking..." "Sounds simple enough," Rodday grunted. "Good damned thing -- I ain't got much in the way of manpower right now." "Regrettable," Armand replied, "but you weren't responding to other forms of persuasion. Perhaps I could offer you a couple of professionals up front? I think we have about a week..." "Awright. About Tabitha..." Rodday pressed. "Ms. Adams will be setting up her more lavish business as discussed. I'd like to see an attitude of cooperation fostered there," Armand replied. "You will maintain the streetwalker franchise; she will work a series of upscale shops with more in the way of services and physical plant. You will be king of your domain, and she will be queen of hers. Is that a problem?" "Nah, guess not. Where's she gonna get girls?" Rodday asked. "Many of yours would be... unacceptable, due to their personal history and their involvement with your other business," Armand replied smoothly. "She will probably be recruiting elsewhere, unless you have some cast-offs that meet her standard..." Armand replied. "I'll let her know," Rodday replied. "I'm plugged into some out-of- town supplies. Maybe there's a finder's fee?" "Perhaps." Armand agreed. "Rodday..." "Yeah?" "If she is unduly hassled and I find out that you are pulling the strings..." "Yeah, yeah, yeah..." "I'll be in touch." Rodday hung up the phone. "Smug bastard! Get Flood in here! Tell him he still has his balls! I need to talk to him about a job!" ------- Nate murmured, "Do you trust him?" Armand shook his head. "No. But we have him under surveillance. I'll know if he starts something." He smiled. "This was excellent work, Nate! It will benefit all of us! I will not forget this!" He sat forward, "I assume that Draper made the payroll..." "Yes, Sir." "He'll receive a nice little 'signing bonus' with his first paycheck, then, for his part in this. Is there anyone else who should benefit?" "Well, Roland, the driver, listened to us and altered his route so we could watch the whole thing go down. A buck or two wouldn't hurt him..." Armand eyed Nate. "In his paycheck? Or cash?" "He gets it all if it's cash, right?" Nate replied warily. "So he does, so he does," Armand smiled. "When do you go back?" "Tuesday." "See Jason before you go. He will disburse some funds for you to deliver. I was thinking something on the order of five hundred..." Nate nodded, "Sounds good." "As for you..." "I owe ya," Nate stated flatly. Armand nodded. "True. But this goes above and beyond. There will be some form of compensation, perhaps based upon the benefit we derive directly. You have proven yourself to be highly resourceful, Nate -- other opportunities will come along." Armand looked at his watch, "I think they're holding dinner in the kitchen..." "Thank you, Sir." Nate backed out of the room, past a glowing Nora. Armand nodded at his daughter, smiling, and Nora followed Nate out. When they were out of sight, Armand turned to Jason, "A car, I think. Nothing too ostentatious, but something they can be seen in in both his neighborhood and ours..." "Insurance?" Jason queried. Nate's rattletrap probably cost more than it was worth in insurance, since he was under 25. A more expensive vehicle meant more insurance... "It will be a company vehicle," Armand replied. "Insure it as such. It appears that the driver on these drug runs handles large quantities of cash -- since we're going to be providing manpower for the first raid, see that they confiscate it and that we retain a portion adequate to support the transaction." "Sir." Jason smiled his Death's Head grin. ------- Leticia, finally released from her punishment, was basically hiding in her quarters. The last couple of days had been fairly traumatic; peace and quiet and a bit of relaxation were in order. Maybe she would go down and soak for a bit in one of the hot tubs... She smiled, remembering that Boris called them the baths... Putting on her bikini was out; the slit in the panty for the tail was too much of a reminder of recent tortures. Leticia slipped into a white one-piece -- with any luck, she would be alone and could go without. Towels were downstairs, too; she let herself out of her room and padded off toward the sunroom. All was quiet when she arrived. She pulled the cover off the first tub, started it bubbling, and headed for the showers, where she pulled off the bathing suit, wet herself down, grabbed a couple of towels and returned to the sunroom. Settling into the tub, she sensed a change, but couldn't put her finger on it. Well, she was in no danger... She relaxed, closing her eyes, and let herself drift. "Is good, nyet?" a VERY familiar voice sounded behind her. Leticia jumped about a foot, "Oh!" "Sorry." It wasn't clear whether Boris was really sorry or not; now that she thought about it, she figured that he probably wasn't. After all, this had been one of his little solitary pleasures... Boris circled around before her -- predictably naked -- and looked in the tub. "I can open another." "That would be a waste." Leticia waved an arm and the big bear settled in across from her, making a production out of settling himself and making himself comfortable. "Is perhaps better not to be alone. Safer," he observed warily. "Yes..." Leticia left it at that. Silence reigned until the timer clicked off, stopping the jets. Boris looked up, "You will do sauna?" "Should I?" "Da. Cleans the pores. Then shower, then another soak in bath," Boris affirmed. "All right." Boris rose and exited the tub, then put out a hand to steady Leticia as she made her exit. Curiously weakened by the soak, she found herself grateful for it. Boris led her to the sauna, where he placed his towel on the seat and settled himself, again naked. Leticia thought about it for a moment, decided that he'd seen her before, and duplicated the action. Again, silence reigned; Boris got up once to pour water on the heater, but otherwise, his only comment came as he was rising to leave. "Heh, you look good sweaty." She did, too, her skin glistening with the moisture. Not having a response, Leticia merely smiled. Boris beat her back to the tub, silently watching as she padded back across the floor from the shower room, dripping. Neither of them had taken a lot of time in the showers, but Boris was an old hand at the procedure. It wasn't lost on Leticia that Boris had taken a seat that gave him ample opportunity to watch her approach; was it lust, or mere wariness? With Boris, it could go either way... This time, she settled across from him, instead of vice-versa. "We go shorter, this time," he announced. "Less endurance." Silence again. Leticia relaxed, but watched him. Boris didn't move. He seemed to be... Waiting! THAT's what he was doing! The insufferable bastard was waiting for her to make some overture... What kind of an idiot did he take her for, anyway? "What are you doing?" "Eh? Resting." "Waiting, more likely. Do you think if you just sit there long enough I'm going to fall into your arms or something?" "Eh, perhaps not," Boris muttered nonchalantly. Leticia became infuriated, "I'm not your slave!" "Not today." "Not ever again!" "Perhaps." Boris eyed her. "It is a matter of what you want -- and what you will do about it. You will decide this." "You're damn right I will!" Leticia stormed up -- and collapsed into the tub with a splash. Burly arms collected her and raised her head above water. "Parts of you are relaxed," Boris chuckled. "The spirit is fiery, but the flesh..." Leticia started scrabbling around furiously, and Boris reminded her of his superior strength by shaking her until her teeth rattled. "Stop being a fool! Move slowly. Get your feet under you. Get your balance!" He held her up until she did as she was told. "Now, slowly go to the edge and climb out. Things will be worse on the outside for a moment; take your time." Boris was right; Leticia barely had the energy to stand outside the tub. Leaning there, wasted, she nonetheless pressed the attack, "What do you expect me to do, anyway? Come to you and abase myself? For what?" Boris shrugged. "You know what you want. You know what you will do to get it. If you want it badly enough, you will do what you must. If you don't..." He eyed her for a moment. "It is not up to me. I am not the only source of that which you desire. But I am a PROVEN source of ALL that you seek -- this you know!" "You're insane!" Boris spread his palms. "I have asked for nothing! This is YOUR problem! I but sit here!" "Well you can STAY there!" Leticia staggered off. Boris shook his head. Women. Negresses -- black women -- in particular! It was not for him to come begging to her to spread her skinny legs for him to plant his seed between -- that was not their roles! The planting was not enough; it was not ALL that she wanted! No, she wanted to be mastered, and one did not master her from a position of weakness. Therefore, he would wait -- she would come... He hauled himself out of the tub and covered it, then shambled off to his shower. This time you did a good job -- got clean... Leticia was standing under her shower, crying. Damn him! He just sat there, like Budda, waiting for her to -- what? Ask him to fuck her? That was the least of it; besides, the last couple of days had seen more sex than the previous year. No, it was something darker, deeper -- and she knew what it was, but couldn't put words to it. Boris's wild idea to grow her breasts by making her pregnant was close enough to bother her -- it was doing the right thing for the wrong reasons... If Mr. Wilson had capitalized on the feelings and desires he'd awakened in her, she wouldn't be in these straits -- but he hadn't been interested, except peripherally. Boris got it right; Mr. Wilson had too many women available to him, and she wasn't a favorite -- but there WERE other men -- even in-house! Jason... No. She shuddered to think of it; how Inez put up with him was beyond her. Charles... He seemed to treat the Wench well, but there was something cold and distant there. Phillippe? She could get sex from Phillippe, but the other things -- things she couldn't seem to name -- he didn't seem to be able to provide. Ed? Ed had Velma, apparently -- and being cantankerous wasn't on her list of requirements. Jorge? What a joke! In the first place, he was Puerto Rican or some damned thing -- and in the second, he was the next thing to queer! That was it, in house... Nate didn't count -- too young, too in love with Nora, and -- mostly -- too black... THAT prejudice hadn't gone anywhere; in some ways, it had been reinforced! But it had been brought home to her that she was in no way Nate's superior. And that brought her back to Boris. Boris, who could apparently take her or leave her -- and who could discuss her faults quite dispassionately, (why was that a good thing?) Boris, who took to commanding her like it was the most natural thing in the world. Boris, whose 'go to Hell' sexual style set her off in ways she couldn't EVEN remember getting elsewhere. Boris, who had said, "Maybe I will breed you, if you ask nice." Damn him! He seemed to know ALL about her -- and could push ALL of her buttons, effortlessly! So what was the problem? Well, THAT was the problem, oddly enough -- the fact that Boris seemed to have all of her keys! If she went to him, he would take everything -- he'd settle for nothing less -- and her days as an independent woman would be over! Of course, part of the problem was that it wasn't clear to her why being independent was preferable... Was it fear? Inertia? It was instinctive, whatever it was. No doubt she would be waddling around with a basketball-sized tummy in six months, too -- again, something she wanted, but paradoxically didn't want. It had to be RIGHT -- she couldn't give up her freedom to be abused all the time! But Boris didn't strike her as the torturing type, either -- he might punish her, but he would also protect her. Maybe she could negotiate SOME kind of guarantees... ------- Chapter 60B: The New Order ... And that brought her back to a picture of Boris, cautiously out- waiting her. He KNEW, damn him! Did she have ANY defense from him? Not at this point. Maybe if she could survive the weekend for a few days -- but thinking about it was like watching her life slip away. Time would pass, she'd get stubborn, or stupid, or both -- and the whole thing would fade away, leaving... nothing. Nothing at all. That glimpse at a barren future fed her resolve; she would try to get some guarantees, but would make the attempt, rather than fritter it away. Shutting off the water, she reached for a towel. Things weren't silent; Boris was still around, apparently, singing some gruff song in his gravelly voice -- still in the shower, apparently. No need to get dry, then... Carrying the towel, she headed for the men's showers. Boris had moved on, mentally -- he was lustily singing an old Georgian drinking song about the vagaries of women. Nothing would happen tonight -- if ever; the little negress -- okay, black -- bitch was displaying the signature temper common to black women. She would come around, or she wouldn't -- what would be, would be... "Boris?" Boris turned. She was back. "No soap?" "No, I'm done." "You're wet." "Yes." Boris quit goofing off and started rinsing. "Shouldn't you dry off?" "I figured I might just get wet again." He kept an eye on her, poker-faced, while he rinsed. "You should dry yourself. I am done." "Okay." She busied herself with the towel; God knew it was easier than what was coming... Boris shut off the water and reached for his own towel. There was a temptation to open the conversation, but he knew better than to give in to it. He made a production of drying himself while he waited her out. Finally, it became apparent that she was going to lose again. "We need to talk," Leticia blurted. "Okay," Boris replied impassively. "Here? Somewhere else?" "Somewhere else." "You wore something here?" "A bathing suit. I'll go get it." "Okay." Boris tucked his towel around his waist in his usual manner; when Leticia met him in the sunroom, she was wearing hers similarly, leaving her breasts uncovered. Perhaps tonight WAS the night... "Where?" "Your rooms? Mine?" "Yours. You will be more comfortable. You do not look comfortable right now, eh?" Boris observed. "Okay." The pair headed back to the servant wing in silence, Leticia leading. The hallway turned out to be a minefield -- or at least an ambush site -- Phillippe's door was open, and he was sitting in his doorway, leaning on a reversed kitchen chair. Leticia staggered, breaking step, and glanced at Boris as he drew even -- but she didn't cover her breasts; Boris slid a hand down her forearm and she took the cue. "What are you doing?" Boris challenged Phillippe. Phillippe shrugged, ogling Leticia's exposed breasts. "This is more entertaining than TV. I WAS waiting to see who's room Ed was sleeping in tonight..." Boris grunted. "Why do you care where Ed sleeps? Velma interests you?" "No. Nowhere near the way Leticia does," Phillippe grinned evilly. "I had not noticed you taking an interest in either one," Boris replied. "Well, that was before..." "Before what?" "Before they started sleeping around, in-house." "Ah." Boris turned this one over in his head. "Both of them have slept with the Boss..." "That doesn't count." "You like negr-- black womans?" Boris queried. "I have never seen you with one..." "I like women," Phillippe replied, continuing to eye Leticia as if she were a piece of meat. "Womans have to like YOU!" Boris pointed out. "Maybe. Is that how you got Leticia?" Boris passed on several comments that might cause issues with Leticia, and settled on, "The Boss does as he chooses in these things. Leticia's punishment is over. Velma was not being punished, but I think she was not happy. Besides, you are already doing well finding womans, no?" "Not THAT well. So where are you two going? And where have you been?" Phillippe asked. "We were in the baths," Boris replied. "We arrived separately." "Right." Phillippe's disbelief was evident. "It's true!" Leticia insisted. "I got there first! Besides, I was being punished before! Why would I..." The problem with this line of reasoning became evident before she finished it. "I'm sure," Phillippe sneered. "So, where are you going?" "My room," Leticia replied. "We're going to discuss... recent events." "Can I go along?" Phillippe asked, rising from the chair. "No!" Both Boris and Leticia replied simultaneously. Boris added, "The Boss does not owe you entertainment. Womans in this house do not, either. If you want to start having sex with womans in this house, maybe you should start by being nice to them." "Women in this house don't get off on people being nice to them!" Phillippe replied. "Generally, they have sex because the Boss says to -- ain't that right, Leticia?" "Sometimes," Leticia allowed. "Not always." Boris shrugged. "So. You be nice -- or you wait for Boss. Better you go out, I think. Come." He tugged Leticia's arm gently. "Right -- like you two aren't going off to fuck," Phillippe scoffed. Boris wheeled on him. "This is... not certain. But it is also not your business." "Well, if you are, why can't I have some?" Phillippe whined. Boris ticked off the reasons on his fingers, "You are not nice to Leticia. She is not being punished. Boss has not said you can." He eyed Phillippe for a moment. "You should stop now. This is not a good thing. I think you have wrong idea; if you bother womans in this house without permission from woman or from the Boss, you will pay for it." "Yeah, yeah." Phillippe looked pissed -- but he sat back down and looked away. Boris nodded Leticia on up the hall. In a moment, they entered Leticia's rooms. Leticia, taking stock, found that she was shaking. "That was bad!" Boris was scowling fiercely. "Phillippe goes too far -- or he will soon. I will speak to Charles, Mr. Jason, Miz Sharon, and the Boss. He must be watched." "I think so, too," Leticia shuddered. Phillippe had been talking rape -- or gang-bang, at least. Granted, the rules got bent around here, and the women of the house accepted certain behaviors from certain of the males -- but Phillippe was on no one's short list. Apparently, that was the problem... "If he bothers you..." The look on Boris's face said it all. "You will tell me." "Yes..." Time to move on. "Would you like something to drink?" "Da." Boris eyed her sidelong. "Vodka?" Leticia shook her head, "Sorry." "Tea? Hot?" "Okay." Leticia busied herself in her tiny kitchenette, starting a kettle while silence reigned. Finally, turning to him, she asked, "Why don't you say anything?" Boris shrugged. "I wait. You want to talk." "It's... hard." Leticia watched the kettle. "Yes." She looked up at him, scowling. "I am a free woman!" "Yes." Arguably, she was not; the Boss held her leash. But if she wanted to pretend... "Why do you make this so hard?" "You must take these steps. You have said it -- you are free woman. Only you can change this." He looked about, "You have milk?" "Yes." Leticia went to her small refrigerator and extracted a carton, smelled it, and returned with it to the counter. Gathering herself, she turned to him, "I wish to negotiate the terms of my surrender." "Negotiate?" Boris's eyebrows shot up. "What is to negotiate?" "One or two small things..." Leticia started fiddling with the box of tea bags. "We should both be clear about what we expect. Why don't you tell me what you expect?" Boris frowned. "First, Boss must approve -- otherwise, not possible. You will be mine -- daytime, nighttime -- all the same. Sex, iron shirts, cook -- everything. I am Boss; you do as I say or be punished. Punishment is whatever I decide. You grow real tits -- get padding for hips -- have babies, nyet?" He grinned. "Little brown babies not problem, eh?" "No," Leticia agreed. "This is all?" "I missed something?" Boris replied. "I want EVERYTHING! Is clear?" "Yes," Leticia nodded. Turning, she popped tea bags into two cups and poured water over them. "Now, may I present my expectations?" Boris eyed her warily, but waved a hand. Leticia handed him his cup, laid out spoons and sugar next to the milk. "I want to be protected -- treated at least as well as valuable property. I should not have to worry about Phillippe, for instance." Boris took a moment, pouring milk and squeezing out the tea bag. "What if I do like Boss? Lend you to Phillippe?" "That is different than Phillippe molesting me," Leticia replied. "Da." Boris nodded agreement. "You will be used, like tool -- not misused. But I say what is use and what is misuse -- and punishment is special case." He sipped tea. "Agreed?" "Yes." Leticia nodded. "Phillippe can use his OWN tools..." Boris growled. "That is all?" "Ummm, not quite." Leticia steeled herself, then unleashed the torpedo. "About the little brown babies..." "Yes?" "I must have them," she insisted. "If we cannot have children, you must release me." Boris blinked. Upon reflection, this made sense, however -- if he could not father children by her, she would lose respect for him -- that was a given. "Da. How long?" "One year?" Leticia offered. "Longer, if we go for fertility work, or until a problem is found?" "Da. Is fair." If he couldn't father a child by her in a year, they would have issues. "You are on birth control?" "Yes." "Ninety days for it to flush out. Before year starts." "Done." She smiled. "Is all?" "Almost." She stood watching him. Boris smelled the trap. "I am waiting." "My babies... must be legitimate." "Legi-- WHAT?! You want to be married? You want to marry Boris?" Boris's eyebrows merged with his hairline. Leticia smiled at the way Boris said 'married'; it came out 'marri- ed'. "Yes. When I am pregnant the first time, I want us to be marri-ed. The children must be legitimate -- otherwise, why bother?" Boris was examining this from every available angle. "To be wife -- this does not change..." "No, it doesn't. I will still be what we have talked about to you. There will just be an additional legal dimension." She sipped her tea. "We won't do this until there IS a child -- although I'd like to be married before I show too much." "If you -- how you say -- miscarry?" "Well, we would try again..." Leticia gathered herself. "If something happened and I could not bear children, we could divorce." The whole concept left her feeling seriously solemn; divorce would be the least of the blows she would absorb, in that case... Boris knew this, too -- instinctively. "If is my fault, you are free. If is YOUR fault, you are NOT free -- I think maybe it is better that way, no? You will need things..." "Okay," she said quietly. "Okay. Children come, we get married." Boris eyed her. "NOW is all?" "Yes," Leticia nodded, smiling tremulously, "Is all." "Do not make fun of Boris," he chided. "English is YOUR first language!" "Yes, Boris." "Come here, Little One," He pulled her against him. "Skinny thing." He pushed her back to arms length, having had a thought. "We make agreement? Contract?" "I trust you." Boris rubbed his razor stubble. "Married is contract, no?" "Yes," Leticia agreed. "At that point, maybe we should do a pre- nuptial agreement -- for your protection." "Da." Boris took a breath. It was too early to get worked up... "Put on clothes -- time to see the Boss." "All right." Leticia headed for her bedroom. "You, too? I will come to your rooms..." "Yes. Come to my rooms." Boris slugged back the dregs of his tea, put down the cup, and shuffled out, his mind completely occupied with the turn of events. Married? What would his mother say? His father? His brother? The negress thing was best downplayed -- or maybe not... "No pussy tonight?" Phillippe chuckled as he passed. "Eh?" Boris shook his head. "You have no idea." He continued on; worrying about Phillippe was a waste of his resources at this point. ------- Armand was just settling in for a little recreational surveillance when his intercom lit up. "Boss?" "Boris?" "Yes. I -- We -- have urgent matter to discuss." Armand's eyebrows went up. This place was turning into a three-ring circus... "I'm in my study." ------- Fifteen minutes later, they were gathered. Leticia had blown by Phillippe as though he wasn't there, fully dressed -- then the pair, both dressed, had ignored him again on the outbound leg -- leaving him extremely curious. He followed, at a distance... Armand sat back at his desk. "Boris. Leticia. You have an urgent matter?" "I wish to own Leticia," Boris blurted. Armand steepled his fingers and swung his attention to Leticia. "And your position in this matter?" "We... have an agreement." "Ah. Provisional ownership." Armand sighed. "Boris, you are no doubt aware that you cannot REALLY own her -- well, you could, perhaps, but it would be illegal. That makes Leticia a volunteer." "Da. The law..." Boris waved dismissal. "All right," Armand turned to Leticia. "Under what conditions are you volunteering for slavery?" "I give him what he wants -- but I get children. Legitimate children." Armand blinked, turning this over. "That's marriage, not slavery. Arguably, it's slavery of a different nature -- and for a different person." "Da." Boris saw the humor in it. "Not until she is with child." "And if she is capable of misconception?" "Excuse?" Boris blinked. "Sorry, word games. If she doesn't conceive?" "No marriage. If is my fault, I release her. If is hers, I do not," Boris replied succinctly. "I suppose that you have agreed upon a time frame?" Armand asked archly. "Fifteen months," Leticia replied. "One year, plus three months for the Pill to get out of my system." "Okay, so, why are you here?" Armand asked. "You must approve," Boris replied, shrugging. "Ah. Who decided that?" "It was... agreed," Leticia said carefully, looking somewhat let down. Armand nodded, realizing that they needed the validation that only he could offer, here. "Good. You're right. She continues to have duties for me." "Da." "She also continues to be subject to my... other requirements. But you are responsible for her performance and behavior. Understood?" "Da." Boris was clear about this -- and it made sense. Besides, how often did the Boss use her before? No big loss... "Yes." Leticia nodded, looking happier. For a moment, there, it appeared that Armand didn't care AT ALL... "Da." "Anything else?" "No..." Leticia couldn't think of anything. "I wouldn't bless this thing if it wasn't already working so well -- bad precedent," Armand pointed out. "On the other hand, Jason has pushed me somewhat into a corner. There will be implications... Quarters?" Boris looked at his new woman; 'slave' wasn't quite his term for her. Leticia could see the 'two can live as cheaply as one' thought process running through his head -- and realized that it was flawed. "Well, Boris is down in the bachelor's quarters... And we won't need one right away, but later we'll need another bedroom..." "Exactly." Armand nodded. "Talk to Sharon; the servant wing is going to need an extensive remodel. I'm not unaware that Ed and Velma are... dating. We may need to shuffle things around quite a bit." He shook his head, "Who turned the love bug loose in here? Nora?" Leticia opened her mouth, but her eyes widened and she shut it with a clop. "What?" Armand asked. ""I was about to say that our situation isn't related..." Leticia murmured. Armand chuckled. "But it is, more or less directly, isn't it?" "Da," Boris chuckled, then frowned. "Boss? There is another problem." "Oh?" Armand asked, surprised. "Phillippe. He... misunderstands." Armand frowned. "What do you mean?" Leticia flicked a glance at Boris, getting verbal permission, then took up the explanation, "We had a run-in in the hall. Phillippe seems to think it is open season on the female staff. He doesn't seem to see relationships -- only that some of the males are having sex with some of the females..." "Ah." Armand nodded. "There is quite the list, isn't there? The two of you -- and your changing situation must be confusing -- Ed and Velma, Pete and Bianca, Jason and Inez... That is aside from more normal activity. What is his thought process?" "I don't think he understands that rape is relevant," Leticia remarked. "Too many of us have... special relationships. But if he tries to have sex with me -- or Inez -- without permission, it is an issue. And if he bothers Velma, or Bianca, or someone else not in a special relationship, it's even worse..." "So he's feeling left out?" Armand queried. "Da." Boris nodded. "He wants to know why he is not invited to fuck one of our womans." Armand nodded. "I thought that he was perfectly capable of finding his own?" Boris shrugged. "Da. But they are -- how you say -- skanks." Armand nodded. There weren't a whole lot of 'skanks' in the household; Leticia, the Wench, and Consuelo had been models; Inez wasn't prime stuff, and Velma CERTAINLY wasn't, but they were both special cases... "I will speak to him. Simple remedies offer themselves, but might make things worse; I could send the Wench, for instance -- but they do not have a relationship, and I don't think they ever would. Frankly, I don't want to foster any more relationships among the staff right now, anyway -- they give me headaches. And aside from for training purposes I don't want to get in the habit of providing female staff for the entertainment of male staff." The Wench and Charles came to mind, but Armand dismissed it -- the Wench was fixated on him, primarily, and Sharon both by proxy and in her own right; Charles was her Training Master and he derived benefit from it, but they did not have a relationship, per se. Still, the rules had too many highly visible exceptions... 'Dammit, Jason!' Armand thought, 'why couldn't you keep your dick in your pants? You owe me... ' He shook his head. "I'll come up with something -- but nothing comes immediately to mind. If someone offers him a piece in the meantime that might help, but it is going to be an ongoing problem, I think." Boris frowned, "Should I?" He glanced at Leticia, who visibly held her breath, awaiting her fate. The two men she answered to above all others were discussing her use... Boris and Armand passed a significant glance. This was a test; how would she react? Boris turned to her, "You will do this, if I demand it, nyet?" Perhaps a second elapsed before Leticia's face became serene. "Yes, Boris." Boris looked back at Armand, who replied, "I will not either ask or encourage you to do that, Boris. It's not a solution in my book -- it might only muddy the waters further. You may or may not, as you like -- but don't do it because you think I want you to, because I don't." Boris nodded, and Armand added, "Are we done, then? I want to retire for the evening, I think." "Da." Boris waved Leticia out; she curtsied to Armand and turned for the door, Boris following. Outside, Leticia turned to Boris. "Your rooms or mine?" she asked, adding archly, "Master." "Boris will do -- as long as you understand that the other is implied," Boris growled. He thought a moment, then, "Yours, I think. We will avoid Phillippe -- he will not understand." Besides, it would bring home to her that she was his wherever she was... Phillippe did NOT understand. From his hiding place around the corner, he observed this exchange, and it irritated him. "What the fuck?" He waited until the pair were a ways down the hall and eased out of hiding... ... Almost into Armand's arms. "Phillippe!" "Sir?" "What are you doing?" Armand looked down the hall; Leticia was disappearing around the corner. "Nothing." Armand let his disbelief show. "Let's go into my office." "What's wrong?" Phillippe pretended innocence. "Why don't you tell me?" Armand replied. "Perhaps recent events have left you feeling slighted in some manner?" He seated himself at his desk. "I, uh, well..." Phillippe stammered. "Phillippe, there has been a sudden increase in below-stairs relationships here," Armand began. "Some of them are of a special nature, in that one of the participants has released her civil rights to the other -- and some of them are of the more 'normal' variety. However, you should make no mistake -- just because a woman in this household makes herself subservient to a male, that does NOT mean that she is subservient to ALL males, in or out of this household! If you use a woman in this household without either her permission, her master's permission, or both, I WILL take appropriate action!" "But..." "Let's go down the list, shall we? And the least shall be first... Bianca is a minor, and technically a child. Given that she is in an equals relationship with Pete and is Inez's daughter, there will be about four of us you'll have to survive if you harm her. Inez will run you afoul of Jason. The Wench will run you afoul of Charles, Sharon, and myself, probably in reverse order. Leticia belongs to Boris -- rather permanently, as of a few minutes ago. Consuelo is under Sharon's and my protection. Velma is in an equals relationship with Ed that may or may not flourish. Who have I left out? You do NOT want to touch Sharon without my specific permission -- and you do NOT want to touch Nora at all! Do you understand?" "Yes, but..." "Those under the sway of someone else -- that being the Wench, Leticia, Inez, and Sharon, at this point, although technically Sharon outranks you -- may be made available to you at some point by their masters. If that occurs, it is their master's will, and therefore not rape, and you may do anything to them their master authorizes you to do. The other women in the household -- Consuelo, Velma, Nora, and especially Bianca -- theoretically may be approached as you would approach any normal woman outside this household -- and if she declines, the same rules apply -- meaning it IS rape, and you WILL be prosecuted, at least! I should point out, however, that only Consuelo is not currently in a relationship of some type -- and she is more slave to me than she sometimes appears to be." "Well, shit!" Phillippe grunted. Armand smiled grimly. "I am not without sympathy for your plight, but I was under the impression that you were selecting and collecting your own female companions. Is this not the case?" "Well, yeah, but it's not like I'm knocking off a piece every night!" Phillippe complained. Armand steepled his fingers. "I'm not prepared to support that kind of thing as a fringe-benefit to your job, Phillippe; in every case in recent memory, the principals got together under their own power. Those with slaves have a personality capable of dealing with them as such -- something that you lack, through no fault of your own. I have, in the past, provided professional sexual entertainment to male staff who wished to enjoy it on a periodic basis -- and I may soon be in a position to do a much better job of it, at lower rates -- but it isn't going to happen on a nightly basis." "Hookers?" "Hookers." Armand gazed at the younger man. "I think you are confusing the benefits of a relationship with the whole package, as it were. Relationships are give-and-take things; I haven't seen anything in you that indicates to me that you really WANT a relationship, as opposed to a place to drain your balls. Am I right?" "Ain't that what you get with a slave?" Phillippe argued. "No, it isn't, frankly," Armand disagreed. "Let's take a look around. I was married to Sharon, despite her predilections and mine. I'm obliged to support both her and my daughter. The Wench might seem like the pure case, but she is a Chinese obligation -- I ruined her for her past life, so now I must keep her. In case you have not heard, Inez is pregnant -- and unless things go awry, Leticia will be, soon -- it's what she wants, and Boris has agreed to it." "No way!" "Oh, yes! In fact, Boris has agreed to legitimize children from the union! Do you know what that means? It means that if and when Leticia has children, Boris will marry her!" Armand smiled grimly. "Frankly, Jason is staring that particular issue in the face, too!" "Shit!" Phillippe was taken aback! Armand smiled grimly. "Velma is of child-bearing age, you know..." He tapped his fingers together. "So you see, life isn't THAT simple..." "Shit, I guess not!" Armand sat forward. "The hooker thing is still an option. I might even get you some service in trade, now that I think about it. I can look at allocating the Wench to you on an infrequent basis, also -- but as a training situation for her, not as a sex partner for you, per se -- you understand the distinction?" "Uh, I think so." "Let me clarify. I might have Charles deliver her to you for a bout of anal sex -- or to be double-teamed with Charles -- that kind of thing. To keep her tools honed. Like the recent blowjob session." "Oh. Okay, I get it." Phillippe sighed. "The service I want trained might not be the one you want to enjoy, if you know what I mean." "Okay." "So, are we clear? If you sex a woman under this roof, the rules will be obeyed -- or else!" "Yessir." "We're done then. Good night." ------- Chapter 61: Various Couplings Dinner at the Hansen's was delayed by the chaos of Louise's settling in; Donna insisted that she move in with Becky, which meant finding an old bed and chest in the cellar and setting it up in Becky's room -- which cramped Becky's style, she insisted quite loudly. Dwayne would sleep on the couch in the den, for now; theoretically, his mother would let up at some point in the near future, when he had proven trustworthy -- but Dwayne wasn't holding his breath. Dinner was rushed, too -- again, Becky was vocal, this time in a positive way. "You KNOW Louise has no clothes, don't you? I mean NONE! MY stuff won't fit her -- we're gonna have to go shopping!" There was a certain amount of glee to that last announcement... Donna was forced to agree; Louise was one bra cup up on her, despite being about the same for bust measurement -- and clothing fit for a woman in her mid-thirties MIGHT fit Louise's more muscular frame, but wouldn't necessarily be that much better than the godawful floor-length stuff Louise had been wearing. Becky was smaller in every dimension -- with the possible exception of shoe size. Sunday evening notwithstanding, it was off to the mall... Donna made it a girls-only outing -- a convenience when probing for information. Out from under Dwayne's wing, Louise would be more responsive, Donna suspected. The tale didn't change any, however. "So what really happened?" Donna asked, in the car on the way. "When?" Louise asked cautiously. "In the beginning, I guess. How did you two meet?" "I went to the basketball game. Dwayne was playing. He was, well, already a target..." "Gawd! Why?" Becky asked. Louise looked at her like she had two heads. "Are you blind? AND deaf? Dwayne is good looking, athletic, a basketball star... Not that the sports thing is anything with a future, but at least he's not the Pillsbury Doughboy! And he has a reputation for doing right by girls..." Donna frowned. "What's 'doing right'?" "Being kind, gentle. The thing with Ted and Darla Jean was apparently a horror show, but he hung in there and took care of her." "Are we talking about in general, or as a lover?" Donna wanted to know. "Shut up, Becky," she added, heading off problems from THAT quarter. "Ummm, both," Louise replied. "Look, I WAS looking at his reputation as a lover! Sex was on the list of things I wanted to take care of before graduation, and things were getting tight!" She mused a moment. "Messy as things are, this is my big break! I'd already decided that it was high time I got out there and took some risks when I got to the game. But when I actually took a good look at Dwayne, and Mary Eikenberry offered to help me make an impression, well..." "When did you get tight with Mary?" Becky asked. "Isn't she a--" "A what?" Louise growled. "Naturally, YOU would listen to that bitch Claudette..." "Well, how did she get Robbie, then?" Becky countered. "Your question SHOULD be 'How did she KEEP Robbie?'!" Louise replied hotly. "The Bang Nation method does NOT work on Robbie!" Becky frowned, thinking. "So, it wasn't sex?" "Sex isn't enough with Robbie; it never was. Think about it -- how could Claudette have lasted so long?" Louise pointed out. "Is sex enough with Dwayne?" Donna asked sharply. Louise smiled. "I don't think so..." "Okay, so, you met at the game..." Donna brought things back on track. "After, actually. He took me home. That MONSTER Ted came over and acted like I was there for HIM..." Louise shuddered. "That's a date?" Becky laughed. "He took you home? That's what -- three blocks?" "Well, it might as well have been, given the preparation," Louise countered. "I was wearing my usual stuff; Mary took me downstairs for a makeover. Basically, it was a lot like the outfit you gave me to stand at the top of the stairs in -- there was a little bit more blouse, but it was yellow, and I was braless. The shorts were my gym shorts, so they were looser..." "Yeah, you'd look good in yellow," Becky mused. Louise looked like she lived in the sun -- apparently that was her basic skin tone. Certainly, she wasn't exposing herself to the sun... "Let me get this straight," Donna interrupted. "You went to the game intending to pick up Dwayne?" "Yes," Louise agreed. "Why is that such a surprise? Does everyone just haphazardly collect the first guy she rubs against, or something?" Donna laughed, "Well, no -- but I figured it all went the other way around!" "Oh, no!" Louise replied, seriously, "It was all carefully arranged! Mary even called Robbie to get him to bring Dwayne up to the bleachers!" She smiled, remembering. "It was all worth it, watching his eyes pop..." "You dress right and a LOT of boy's eyes will pop!" Becky laughed. "Maybe," Louise agreed, "but I'm good with the one I have, for now. He understands me." "Five minutes after the game is not a date," Donna observed. "You couldn't have learned much about each other in that time." "Well, no -- not if it had been five minutes. But we stopped at the park, and it was more like forty-five." Donna raised an eyebrow. "What did you do?" Time to hide a few details. "Well, we talked -- you know, 'Why didn't I notice you?' -- that kind of thing. I got really nervous, and went limp on him -- and he got suspicious that he was being played." "Limp?" Becky queried. "Look, I'm not real brave. I get told what to do -- always have. I let fear get a grip on me and just started agreeing with everything..." Louise explained. "I bet Big Brother LOVED THAT!" Becky chortled. "Actually, he was suspicious; obviously, he doesn't get that at home..." Louise eyed Becky archly. "It almost broke us up before we got started! But I managed to stammer out an explanation, and he settled down. He's still not used to it -- and he CERTAINLY hasn't taken advantage of it!" "Okay, so, you talked..." Donna eyed the young woman in the passenger seat. "Well, we necked some, once the misunderstandings were cleared up. That was... very nice." She sighed. "I got home late, and Mama had a fit -- just having a boy in sight was enough..." "Okay, so, date number one," Donna prompted. "Doesn't sound like much, but maybe that's a good thing. Date two?" "Mama wasn't going to let a boy come calling, so I got Mary to ask if we could go to the movies. Dwayne picked me up, but we ended up doubling, anyway." "How did that go?" Becky asked. "We sat up in the back..." Louise left the rest to imagination, smiling. "First? Second? Third?" Becky asked. "Third, after dinner at Gino's -- and after he told me that we were NOT having sex in a truck and that if and when I wanted it the first time, I was going to have to say, 'Pretty please'!" "Huh? That's weird. Why?" Donna asked. Louise shrugged. "The Ted and Darla Jean thing had him kind of messed up -- he felt like a rapist. He said he didn't want to see that look in my eyes..." "That sounds 'WAY too romantic for Big Brother!" Becky exclaimed. "Honest to God!" Louise insisted. "That's why I made a production of it this morning! That and, well, I couldn't wait..." Donna shook her head. "Eight o'clock on a Sunday morning?" "Mama went off to prepare for the first service at seven-thirty. It was REALLY the only time we could be guaranteed a nice place and peace and quiet..." Louise explained. "I just can't believe that Dwayne is such a Boy Scout," Donna argued. "I'm sure he isn't," Louise replied, "in fact, I'm counting on it, to an extent. But thus far you're doing him an injustice. He hasn't done anything with me that I didn't want him to -- nothing that I didn't plan on, or organize, or at least hope for..." She shook her head. "He's NOT a wolf -- I don't think he's even average! Last night, he asked me point-blank if I would have sex with him if he told me to. And I said yes, point-blank. And we didn't have sex. Does that sound like a wolf?" "I guess not..." Donna was nonplussed. "Then STOP STOMPING ON HIM!" Louise screeched. "How am I ever going to train him to take charge if you keep browbeating him?" "Uhhh..." Donna didn't know WHAT to say! "Hey, look -- there's the mall!" Becky rescued everyone. ------- Phillippe hadn't seen Ed or Velma because they were both in the kitchen; Velma was working, and Ed was sitting at the table drinking coffee, mostly. Everyone else was gone; Nate and Nora had taken their dinners to their rooms. Ed looked up from his ruminations, "I'm gonna go watch some TV." "Okay, Hon. Y'all got things ta do -- Ah don' 'spect y'all ta hang aroun' here all da time." Velma kept scrubbing the pot she was working on. But Ed continued to sit, scowling. "Velma, what the fuck are we doin'?" Time to reach for a dish towel... "Whatchew mean, Hon?" "Just what I said! How old are you?" "Y'all don' git ta ask dat!" Velma said huffily. "It's important, dammit!" "Thuty seven. Why?" "I got a dozen years on ya. Why you want to hang out with an old fart?" "Fook! Dey ain't a line!" "Might be. Phillippe talks shit, but I bet he'd dip ya." "What Ah want ta change up fo'?" "I might croak on your ass!" Ed grunted. "Ah might croak on yoahs! Y'all t'ink dis is healthy?" Velma waved at the expanse of her body. "Are we just gonna yell at each other and fuck? Is that all there is to it?" "Is dat really what we do?" Velma countered. "Ah don' nevah feel yelled at, afta..." She crossed to Ed, and started rubbing his shoulder. "Ah don' t'ink we can do love talk wit'out laughin' 'bout how stupid it be. Dis how we handle it." "Mebbe," Ed grunted. "Is it enough?" "Fo' me? It be bettah than anyt'ing ah evah had befo'... If Ah gotta choice 'tween dat an' nuthin', Ah'll take dat evah time!" "You sure? We don't either one of us seem ta have any fuckin' idea what we're doin'. Them kids seem to have a MUCH better idea..." "We kin git dere..." "Ya think so? I'm fifty, for shit's sake! To change up now..." Ed shook his head. "Ed, Honey, everbody don' do shit da same! Ah got shit ta do, an' yo' got shit ta do -- an' dat's FINE! But when we can be togetha..." Velma closed in and suddenly there was a lot of woman pressed against Ed's right side. He stuck out an arm and got a handful of ass cheek, and Velma cooed, "Dat's yoah's, Honey, if'n y'all wants it..." Ed wanted it -- Hell, yeah, he wanted it -- but should he have it? He squeezed his handful of ass meat. "I'm no fuckin' catch. You might end up wishin' you'd thrown me back!" "Fook! Y'all t'ink Ah be any diff'rent? An me as big as a fookin' house?" Velma chuckled. "Honey, we is MADE fo' each othah!" "Mebbe." Them watermelon jugs of hers were hanging over his face; he reached up, left-handed, and started mauling one through that truss she had to wear to keep 'em up... "Ed, Honey, y'all don' wanna git me started..." Velma husked. "Huh! I wouldn't be any too sure about that," Ed grinned. "Mebbe I'll fish out one'a them jugs of yours and try to get some milk out of it..." "Who's gonna clean up the puddle mah cooze'll drip on da flo'?" Velma husked. "Mebbe we should get a room," Ed chuckled. "How much longer you got here?" "Fook it! Ah cain't stand 'round washin' pots feelin' lahk dis! Le's go!" Velma's heart was beating about two hundred times a minute, it seemed like. "My room?" "Ah don' care! Lead da way! Jus' gimme dat t'ing! C'mon!" Velma hauled Ed out of his chair and pushed him toward the door. ------- Boris took charge the moment they hit Leticia's door. "Where are Pills?" "Pills?" "Birth control." "Oh, THOSE pills!" Leticia led him to her night table, fished a pack out of the drawer and brandished it. "Toss." "With pleasure!" She side-armed the pill pack into the nearest trash can. "No, pleasure now!" Boris moved forward, pressing her against the wall. "Get out of clothes!" "Yes, Boris!" It was easier said than done, pinned as she was. Jeans just weren't going to happen... "I have to move..." "Get top off. I want nipple. I start on those titties right now!" Boris grunted. Leticia managed this, and Boris ducked his head to get at a nub. Leticia found that now she had some space, but she couldn't bend. "I can't bend to get them off!" Boris, grinning around teeth set (gently) around Leticia's left nipple, pointed at the bed. Leticia nodded, cupped his head against her chest, and sidled to the bed. When the time came, Boris crawled up onto the bed, growling playfully while she managed to lift her hips and extract herself while lying flat. When she was done, he unlatched and observed, "Life is not easy for Boris's slut, eh?" But Leticia was grinning from ear to ear, anyway. "I just have to be resourceful." "Undress ME, now!" Boris demanded. Leticia went to work with a will, while he stood, pretending indifference -- but it was difficult; for the first time in his life he truly possessed a woman! When she was done (and coincidentally kneeling at his feet, having removed his trousers), he grunted, "You know what to do! Get essence from Boris! It will help you get hips, titties! Besides, it feels good..." He grinned. Leticia didn't argue; his thick cock and heavy balls were right in front of her face. She put her hands on his hips and wrapped her lips around his already half-hard stalk. "Aaaaahhhhh!" he groaned, throwing his head back. "Such lips! When the rest of you matches those, you will be truly incredible!" ------- "Aw, Ed, no!" Velma whined. "Y'all don' hafta see mah whole body ta stick yo' fook-stick in mah cooze!" Velma was refusing to undress with the light on, again. "Well, mebbe not --once, or twice, or a half-dozen times," Ed replied, "but lemme ask you this -- you gonna want it again tomorrow? Tuesday? Next week?" "Well, yeah," Velma admitted. Now that the door was open, the idea of doing without REALLY didn't appeal... "Okay, ya silly bitch," Ed replied. "Once or twice is a fuck -- but a bunch of times is a relationship, even if it's just fuck-buddies. An' you can't hide your ass from somebody you got a relationship with, forever." "Cain't Ah wait awhile?" "You mean 'til I'm addicted and it don't matter no more? Too fuckin' late! You're on track fer that!" Ed growled. "But when Ah stand up, it's... bad..." "I seen ya in that circus tent -- it don't exactly hide shit," Ed grunted. "Awright, I'll go piss an' you get undressed and do that sheet thing -- but I'm takin' it off when I get back, one way or another!" "Awright," Velma conceded -- but the light was off when Ed exited the bathroom. "Turn the goddamn light on!" Ed ranted. "Awright, awright!" The lamp clicked on, revealing Velma, strategically draped. She'd run the top sheet under her huge jugs again, which served to highlight them -- but very little showed below that above her thick ankles. "Y'all happy?" Ed grunted. "Well..." Velma temporized. "Cain't fuck like that." Ed snatched the sheet away with one swift tug. "ED! GODDAMN IT!" Velma wailed, vainly trying to figure out what to cover and how. "Told ya!" Ed waded in, wrestling with her to keep her from tearing up the bed to cover herself. Goddamn woman was STRONG! Ed finally had to sit on her to get adequate leverage, mostly by denying her air. "Settle the fuck down!" Velma's cheeks were wet, her eyes full of tears of pain and humiliation. "This jus' wrong! Ah cain't..." "Shut... up..." Ed leaned over and laid one on her lips, waiting for her to open up -- which she did after a moment's surprise. "How many times have I crawled on your big ass, now, huh? You don't think I got some idea how big it is?" "But..." Ed's lips sealed off another objection -- 'Dammit! How can Ah argue with this?' Surrender was inevitable. Ed waited until the fight was leached out of her, then raised himself up. "See there? Shit, I can't see nothin' from here, anyway..." Basically, he was working hard to straddle her midsection; those watermelon jugs of hers were off to either side... "I'm turnin' around and I'm gonna get up close and personal with your -- what the fuck you call it? Cooze." "Ed..." Velma whined. "Enough. Zip it. You're all flattened out, here, an' shit don't look too bad. Spread your legs -- I'm gonna look at your pink spot." Ed was up and rotated and back down before Velma could summon the will to fight. "Open them legs, Woman, or ya get no dick!" "Dammit, Ed! Dis is..." "Educational?" Ed supplied. "Yo' big hairy ass in mah face? Ah, don'..." "Awright, scoot down a bit, then." Ed crawled forward and hauled on her heavily padded hips -- and came to the realization that he'd never move her without her assistance. "C'mon, haul it down some!" "Whuffo'?" But Velma started moving, anyway, digging in her heels and shifting downward beneath him. " Because if I can muff dive, here, you can learn to suck a dick!" Carefully, Ed shifted until his knees were above Velma's shoulders. "Ed! Jeezus!" But there it was, dangling above her face... Meanwhile, Ed was getting organized down below. What otherwise might have been rolls had spread flat from her position -- but there WAS a roll there, virtually obscuring her pudenda. Positioned vertically above the area, though, he was able to get a look-see. A thin line of kinky ringlets ran from Velma's navel to a regular brillo pad over her mons; thinner wisps populated either side of her thick-lipped twat and -- Ed leaned over for a better look -- yep, all the way to her asshole. "How long's it been since you seen shit down here?" Ed asked. "Ed!" "Just answer the fuckin' question..." "It ain't easy, okay? Ah, cain't gen'rally..." Was it messy or something? "I don't s'pose shavin's an option?" "Ed!" Velma was thoroughly mortified. Ed just grinned. The thick lips of Velma's twat popped open at a touch; Her clitoral hood was clearly visible. Ed leaned in -- it smelled clean... "Ed, whatchew doin' down theah? Is it bad? Ah don' think -- LAWD A MERCY!" Ed grinned to himself as he sucked on her clitoris. It wouldn't be Velma if she didn't yell her head off... "LAWD, LAWD..." "So, you like that?" Ed raised up to take a breath. "Uhhhh! Uh huh!" "Best get to work on that pecker, or I'll stop!" THAT made up her mind! Velma put both big hands on Ed's ass and pulled him down; Ed gasped in pleasure as her thick, soft lips rolled over the head. "Nice! Work the head, suckin' a little -- no teeth! Run it in and out, some..." Velma seemed to understand what was wanted, so he went back to work on her clit. Velma could not believe how great having a mouth workin' on her cooze felt! Lordy! In some ways, it was better than dick -- so much more intense... It was hard to remember to suck, although that held it's own interest... In a minute or two, in fact, the battle was lost; Velma was too close and unable to summon further control, "Ed, Ah'm sorry, but Ah'm gonna..." Ed just let it ride; she could learn serious cock sucking later. He bored in, drubbing her pulsing clit with his tongue. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!" Velma jittered and jiggled and thrashed -- almost throwing Ed, but the arms she crossed across his upraised ass held him pinned. "Good, huh?" Ed chuckled. "Oh, Lawdy!" Velma went back to sucking -- with a vengeance! Ed had other things in mind, though. "Naw, let's fuck." Velma let go of his ass like it was hot, "All right!" Ed rolled off Velma (and perforce off the bed), circled around and approached her goodies from the foot of the bed. "Awright, here it comes!" Velma had her legs spread as far as they would go in invitation. "Ah'm mo' than ready! Uuuuhhh!" Ed, not one to stand on ceremony, went straight for the wet spot and pushed for depth. Velma just took it -- there was no reason why she shouldn't, and every reason why she should. As far as Velma was concerned, if Ed wanted to start across the room and take a running dive at her cooze, he was welcome to, if he could hit it... Ed's resulting position was kind of a push-up -- not something he was going to be able to maintain for long, but then neither of them needed a long time! It took him four strokes to get her opened up enough to long-stroke, and he took off looking for his, knowing she would get hers without any additional concern from him. "Damn, that's good shit!" "Y'all be welcome in dere, Honey -- you jus' pound dat t'ing! Oh, Baby! Dat SOOO good! Ummm! Ummmm! Ummm!" Her titties were shaking like jello -- and that wasn't everything on the list, by any means -- but it just got better and better and better... "Ah'm gonna get it agin! Ohhh! Ooohhhh!!! OOOHHH!!! OOOOHHHH, LAWWWWD!" Velma started her characteristic orgasmic shiver. Ed was ready. When she started to peak, he was right there, and the clutch of her pulsing twat brought him over the top! "YAAAAAHHHH! SHIT YAAAAH!!!" He grabbed her shoulders and crushed himself to her crotch while his cock pulsed goo into her. "DAMN! That has ta be THE best fuckin' pussy..." "Ohhhh... Ooohhhh, Gawd... Thank you, Honey..." Velma was all but drifting above herself -- and taking his juice was the cherry on top for the whole experience. "You're welcome..." Fuck, what kind of love handle should he call her by? Thus far, it had been 'you silly bitch' or some commentary on how fuckin' fat she was... Funny how her bein' black hadn't entered into things so much... "Sweet Thang..." Better than nothing... "Mmmmmm," she sighed, running her hands up and down his narrow flanks as he lay atop her. "Ed, dere's a buncha t'ings Ah ain't..." Ed interrupted, chuckling. "There's a bunch of things I ain't, too! Le's lookit the stuff you are -- that bein' about the finest piece of pussy I ever stuck my dick inta!" "Dat's nice... Yo' be 'bout da only one evah really went at it, serious! An' dat's sho' nice..." Velma sighed. "Looka here -- Ah'm spoilt, now..." "Meanin' what?" "Ah gots ta have it -- reg'lar." Silence, while Ed thought about it -- then a chuckle. "Heh, me, too. But I ain't exactly nobody's soul-mate, ya know? We better start slow, 'cause I cain't see how in the Hell you're gonna stand me, in the long run." "Awright," Velma agreed, "What we goin' do?" "Move in together, I guess -- playin' musical rooms sucks. Guess I'll come here -- the bed's bigger, an' it ain't across the hall from Phillippe..." Velma opened her mouth to reply, but she was interrupted by a screamed "OOOOOHHHH, GOD!" superimposed over a low, guttural roar! Ed blinked. "What the fuck?" "Leticia?" Velma guessed. "She's next door..." "That happen a lot?" Ed asked. "Uh uh. Fust time evah..." "Guess Boris made an impression on her huh?" Ed chuckled. ------- What they were hearing was the climax of the act that started with Leticia sucking in Boris's cock. Boris's intent was to ejaculate in her mouth, but... In the first place, Leticia was apparently having too much fun. The blowjob, inspired by a more positive emotion than fear, WAS inspired; her tongue was everywhere -- under his foreskin, tickling the underside of his glans -- and her lips milked him from glans to root. The effort threatened to drain him in less than a minute, at the rate she was going -- and Boris couldn't have that! "Stop!" Leticia obeyed, backing off and eyeing him inquiringly. "What are you doing?" Boris asked gruffly. "A blowjob?" Leticia replied. "Why is different?" "Different?" "You are very good -- but never THIS good! Why?" Boris asked suspiciously. "Oh! I'm happy!" Leticia shrugged and added a silly grin. Boris's brows lowered further. "Why is that? You are slave... You sneak up on Boris? Put one over?" "Noooo..." Leticia replied. "But I get what I want. I want YOU. I want your babies. I want..." She struggled with the concept of submission, "... to serve. It's... all good..." "Ah." Frankly, the concept that anyone would WANT to serve him was virtually incomprehensible -- but she seemed sincere... "Okay, slow..." Leticia moved back in, eyes locked on his as her thick lips absorbed his length and her tongue went to work under his foreskin. And it was good -- very good!! Leticia wasn't just giving a blowjob, she was making love to his cock, and Boris felt things he'd never felt before from a blowjob -- which made control difficult to impossible! Ninety second's worth of this action, and Boris was teetering on the edge -- but no longer interested in pouring his seed down Leticia's throat. No, it was time to pet the cat -- pound the pussy -- whatever... "Nyet! I change my mind! Get on bed -- we fuck!" "Mmph? Okay..." Leticia backed off; wasn't it good enough? She got up and moved to the bed, asking over her shoulder, "How?" "From behind! Kneel!" Boris was brusque; he was trying to get control of himself. Leticia did as she was told, and Boris ran into something that further slowed him down -- she wasn't REALLY ready for him. Oh, sure, she was wet -- the blowjob had seen to that -- but his thick length was something she wasn't used to yet. That meant forcing his blunt cock against her narrow opening and wedging it open. "Uuuuhhh!" Leticia grunted. It didn't hurt, quite, but there was a lot of pressure... Boris was in a hurry, apparently... Looking back over her shoulder, she asked nervously, "Is everything okay?" "Da, da," Boris grunted, his primary attention on the insertion. "I am... urgent..." "Okay..." Leticia lowered her head and concentrated on relaxing so that fat monster could enter her. In the end, it wasn't THAT much of a fight -- after all, she WAS already wet, and he had his copious foreskin to work with. In a moment, he was past the opening and slithering forward into her depths, nosing open her channel. After three or four slow strokes to get her fully accommodated to him, Boris took off, grunting, "You Boris's woman now. You get it ALL! You must be real woman, because Boris will not go easy -- Boris will TAKE what is HIS!" "Uuuuhhh! Yes, Boris! Take... what is... yours!" Leticia chanted to the rhythm of his pounding. God, it was good! "Take me! I am... yours!" For a few moments, there was no sound in the room except their pants and Boris's grunts and the rhythmic slap of Boris's stomach against Leticia's ass as he pounded her -- then suddenly, through the wall, a wail: "OOOHHH!!! OOOOHHHH, LAWWWWD!" followed by a deeper voice, "YAAAAAHHHH! SHIT YAAAAH!!!" Leticia giggled. Boris grunted, "Is Velma? You... Little Slut... are not... the only... negress -- ah -- black bitch... being ridden... tonight... I think..." "No..." Leticia agreed. Gee, did she prefer 'black bitch' over 'negress'? Oh, well... Such things didn't really matter at the moment -- in fact nothing much mattered but the cum her master was generating with his fat cock... Boris had both hands on Leticia's narrow hips and was dragging her onto himself as much as he was pounding her. The blowjob had left him virtually without control, and after a short hiatus for the insertion he was back there, again! Deliberately, he let himself go; the little slut had handled him twice, now, and if she could not handle him again and again, it was better to know it sooner, rather than later... Leticia heard his low growl and felt the increased power of his strokes, then the iron-hard grip on her shoulders as he pinned her to the mattress, "Fuck, bitch, take it! Fuck! Take it all! Grrrrrrr!!!" Instinctively, she knew what was happening -- but with the fear came anticipation. "Yessss!" she hissed. "Fuck your bitch! Cum! Cum!" Boris was elsewhere, mentally, berserk, raping her -- but you can't rape the willing! Her responses told him she was conquered, and fed his lust for power, thrusting him to the pinnacle! "RRROOWWWWWWRRRR!!!!!" He began trying to force his entire body into her quivering twat while his balls swelled and surged and his cock swelled and became diamond-hard as it collected his charge and then, after the briefest of moments of towering pleasure, discharged his seed into her! But Leticia wasn't experiencing this as an attack -- this was her master taking total possession of her, and nothing was more welcome! Pleasure and pain mixed and augmented each other and rose to a crescendo -- and she screamed in pleasure as he crushed himself to her and spewed his seed into her, "OOOOOHHHH, GOD!" The shock waves fired her nerves and she went rigid, her back bowed, head up, gazing at the wall with sightless eyes as her consciousness focused on her master's insane attempt to merge with her -- and worked to accept and welcome his efforts! The pair remained locked, rigid, for almost a minute while they experienced an almost complete congress; when he released her Boris knew that despite the brutality of his effort, Leticia was happy to have received it. Released, she slumped forward, slowly returning to reality, to hear, "Little One, are you okay?" "Yes, Master." Boris he might be in public, but he had just mastered her, thoroughly, and it was unthinkable that she not acknowledge it. She would have bruises -- not least, all along her crotch, as well as her shoulders -- but it had been good, SOOO good! Boris heard the tone, still dreamlike. When she was fully awake, she might feel differently, but for now, all was apparently well. And she was his -- there was no doubt of his possession of her. Post-berserkergang exhaustion was closing on him, so he crawled up beside her and dragged her to him to spoon. "We will sleep now, for a while..." " 'Kay." Argument never occurred to her. Leticia closed her eyes and drifted off to the snores of her bear-like master. ------- It was bedtime at the Hansen's, after a long day. Dwayne, grumbling, was dragging his bedclothes down the stairs. Donna felt bad; Louise denied categorically that Dwayne had done anything wrong -- but she had set the policy, and backing out now would cause her to lose face, both with Dwayne and with Mark, who she was ALREADY expecting to have a lengthy bedtime 'discussion' with. Given that she had clearly overreacted, and as a consequence caused Mark to overreact -- which ultimately led to their having a female houseguest for an extended period -- she didn't expect to escape unscathed. Louise tricked herself out in her brand-new baby-doll nightie. Having announced at the Mall, "I don't ever want to wear anything floor- length again!" Louise had proceeded to (after promising faithfully to find work to repay the generosity) burn $250 on a 'temporary' wardrobe that was a total departure from her previous look -- to the point of pushing the school dress-code a bit, if she wasn't careful. The nightie was only one featured item -- and theoretically, Dwayne wasn't allowed to see her in it. The light robe that went with it didn't cover much more; Donna wasn't sure she wanted MARK to see Louise in it! At least it came with a frilly panty; hopefully, Louise wouldn't substitute one of the thongs she had purchased and was threatening to wear as soon as she could get her pubic bush trimmed. In any case, Donna had ultimately forbidden Louise to present herself in front of males deliberately wearing it. Becky thought the whole thing was hilarious. "Boy, you'd set fire to Big Brother's eyeballs if he could see you in THAT!" she shrieked. Depending upon your point of view, Becky had been either extremely helpful (in Louise's opinion) or a total nuisance (in Donna's opinion) during the shopping trip, making daring suggestion after daring suggestion -- and Louise, in a mood to overreact, had been led again and again to follow them. Now Louise had a new wardrobe that was as daring as the old one was stodgy! Louise did a full turn in the new nightie, causing the short hemline to fluff out. The contrast between the lacy white of the nightie and her golden brown complexion was impressive, to say the least. Becky grinned and nodded her head -- Louise was HOT! Big Brother hit the lottery with her! Who'd have thought that ninety percent of Louise's problem was the stuff on her back? "I need to trim the fur..." Louise murmured. "I thought Big Brother liked it?" Becky argued. "Well, he SAYS he does -- but YOU helped me pick out all of those thongs!" Louise accused. Becky giggled. "All right, you two!" Donna's voice came from below. "It's late and you both have school! Get to bed!" "Yes, Mom!" Becky yelled back, rolling her eyes. Louise giggled. Six hours, and Becky was almost a sister to her; she'd never done an overnight with other girls, even, not being popular. This was a whole different thing -- and wonderful, in its way. The two girls got into bed and Louise laid in hers waiting for things to get quiet. Twice, she got up and went to the door, but murmurs from downstairs indicated that Dwayne's parents were still wakeful. Fact was, that 'discussion' that Donna had been dreading was in progress; Mark was trying HARD to peel her skin off with a dull knife for being such a total bitch to their son -- and he got a few chunks, too! For one thing, she was going to have to apologize in the morning, loss of face notwithstanding... Finally, things got quiet. Louise waited an additional ten minutes before quietly slipping out of bed and heading for the stair... ... Of course, if she had looked across the room, she would have seen the reflection of Becky's ear-to-ear grin! Louise hadn't been QUITE sneaky enough; the obvious glances at her wristwatch were enough to alert Becky -- and the forays to the stair were a dead giveaway! As soon as Louise was out the bedroom door, Becky slipped out of her own bed to follow her! Off they went, Louise leading, hitting the creaky third stair in the staircase, (Becky almost snorted laughter at THAT one!) tripping over the edge of the area rug in the living room, freezing every third step to listen... Finally, Louise made it to the den... "Dwayne..." Had something touched his arm? Dwayne struggled his way back to consciousness, having fallen asleep only ten minutes before. The couch was a real bitch to sleep on; cushions that made fine seats sucked as mattresses -- especially given the fact that there was more than one! Add in his proximity to his parent's little tiff and sleep had been slow in coming. Dwayne blinked. There was an angel in lacy white hovering over him. Was he dead? Christ! Just when things were looking up... "Dwayne? Sweetheart?" Did angels call you sweetheart? Nice. This one was a babe -- she looked just like... "Louise?" "Hi. Are you awake?" "I am now!" 'Ho Lee shit! What a get-up!' "Wow! That's..." Words failed him. Louise's smile was a glow in the dim light. "Do you like it?" "Do I!" "I bought it for you -- but your mother didn't want you to see it!" "I think I understand why!" Dwayne's cock was tearing a hole in his boxers! "Wait 'til I take the robe off!" Louise grinned impishly and turned around; when she turned back, the robe swept off her shoulders, baring a good deal more flesh, and hinting at more than that through translucent layers. "Omigod!" There was NO WAY he was going to sleep for the rest of the night with THAT image floating in his mind! Nonetheless, Dwayne wished for a little bit more light -- just a little! Louise seemed to read his mind. Pointing at the drawn window blinds, she asked, "Do those work?" "Yeah." Dwayne pulled himself vertical -- but Louise crossed the room first and twisted the control rod. Moonlight augmented the local streetlight; objects began to take on color. Beautiful color -- rich tan against lacy white... Becky snatched her head back through the door -- this was no time to get caught! Big Brother's eyes were as big as saucers, and the tent in his boxers was hilarious! Becky breathed slowly, trying to get control. 'Okay, one eye around the door... ' Louise had crossed the room and was standing over Big Brother, a huge smile on her face. "You like?" "God, yes!" Then reality crashed in. "You're not supposed to be here!" He flicked a glance at the door. Becky, warned by the outburst, was gone again. "No, this is all right," Louise argued. "Your mother said YOU couldn't come visit me in the room I share with your sister -- which is only wise, don't you think? She didn't say I couldn't visit you here..." 'Oh, she's good!' Becky chortled to herself, resuming her watch- point. 'She's VERY good!' Dwayne's response was an echo of his sister's, "Have you been around Becky too much already? You KNOW she would have if she'd thought about it..." "Sweetheart, I learned a long time ago that if I obeyed every IMPLIED instruction I was given, I'd probably have to stop breathing! She didn't tell me not to come down here, so... Besides, my first night in a strange house, I want to be with my sweetheart -- I need to feel protected!" She caressed his cheek. "She's still gonna crap -- and besides, this couch is godawful to sleep on..." But Dwayne was already lying back down and Louise was already crawling atop him; there are limits to just how far a guy -- even a nice guy -- will go to protect the chastity of a woman who doesn't WANT protection. "Do you know what's nice about this nightie?" Louise murmured in Dwayne's ear. "It's VERY accessible..." Dwayne was discovering that for himself; the lacy top was instantly defeated from below, due to its short length. Dwayne had a double-handful of soft, warm skin to add to the soft warm lips Louise offered him. "Mmmmmmm." Becky, watching, grinned from ear to ear. ------- Donna Hansen was busy; to deflect Mark's attacks, she had had to unleash her weapon of last resort -- not that it was anything serious in the way of an inconvenience -- and was busy posting on Mark's hard cock, cowgirl-style. Thank God for make-up sex! They were well along, Mark grunting softly while he thrust up into her and played with her breasts, in virtual silence, the way parents the world over handle sex if they want to get to their completion undisturbed. Mark was wonderful -- she'd gotten one small cum already -- but the focus was on making sure he was good and satiated, blunting the backlash from the whole 'down on Dwayne' thing, so she was holding herself somewhat in check while she got him there. Her ears perked up -- was that a sound? It was probably the girls -- they WOULD treat this like a slumber party! When she was finished, she'd go give them Hell, but for now things were too good to be hopping up and rushing off to shush a couple of teenage girls... Mark was grinding himself against her at the top of his stroke, a favorite tactic for both of them -- and it was SOOOOO good! When you knew each other's moves, there was a familiarity to things, which could be bad -- but there was also a certainty, a confidence, a state of knowing that you were going to get there, and so was your partner -- a state of anticipation that made up for the downside of the predictability of things. Donna gave herself up to the sensations, knowing from the rock-hard feel of Mark's penis stroking her tunnel that he was too close to miss his completion... In the den, things were rapidly becoming torrid; Louise was rubbing her soaking wet crotch against Dwayne's while they devoured each other's mouths and caressed each other's bodies. "Oh, God, I'm SO hot!" Louise moaned. "Uuuhhh! Me, too!" Dwayne gasped. Louise's rubbing against him was maddening! "I can't stand it!" Louise jumped up and stepped out of the frilly panties that came with the ensemble she was wearing. "Honey, we're not equipped, here!" Dwayne groaned. The nearest rubber was upstairs in his night table... "I don't CARE! I HAVE to feel you!" She was on top of him again, and her hand was worming its way into his shorts. "God, that's SOOO nice!" she moaned, squeezing his diamond-hard erection. "Gimmee!" She grabbed the waistband of his shorts, tugging. Dwayne was mostly beyond conscious thought and into rationalization -- where he was still able to put together the bits and pieces. Saying no to a willing woman just went totally counter to his defensive structure, since his whole focus was on getting her to say yes... Who gives up when they're winning? He lifted his hips before even thinking about it; his brain might know better, but other imperatives were in control. A moment later, Louise was again squirming atop him, her soaking wet gash a simmering groove that she rubbed up and down the underside of his aching cock, hunching and groaning. "God, Honey, I could shoot like this!" he gasped. "Goody..." She clamped her lips on his neck and started snapping her hips. Becky was thrilled to death! 'Holy shit! They're gonna fuck! This is SOOO hot!' Basically unnoticed, her hand slid through the waistband of her pajama bottoms. To call what the couple was doing dry-humping would be a misnomer; Louise was dripping wet and there was more than enough lubrication -- in fact, it was dripping into Dwayne's pubes, and running down along his balls and dripping onto the couch! The next ninety seconds was a symphony of quiet grunts, the soft liquid sounds of his cock sliding between her labia, and the quiet creak of the couch leather to their increasingly urgent motion -- thankfully muffled by the bedclothes. Then it happened. Louise started snorting like a thoroughbred racehorse; her hips became an absolute blur! Dwayne couldn't possibly maintain control; he went rigid as his balls climbed up into his scrotum to deliver their contents. Louise, too, went rigid, arching herself, shaking, while her eyes rolled up. Dwayne got out a smothered, "Jeezus!" before he unloaded, shooting streams of goo onto his T-shirt. Becky stood in the doorway, eyes as big as saucers! That was SOOO hot! The whole sequence -- the actions, the urgency, the obvious rise to completion... Becky's right hand was soaked with her own juices, her clit was stiff and screaming from the attentions of her fingers, and her left nipple was flashing spikes from the fingers tweaking it. Another minute or so and she'd have cum, herself! Donna, draped bonelessly across Mark's chest enjoying the aftermath of their bout, picked up a sound -- which could have been anything -- an explosive gasp, perhaps. 'Christ! They're still up, fooling around... ' "I think the girls think they're at a slumber party," she whispered to Mark. "I'll be back..." First, however, she would have to go to the bathroom and clean up the leakage... In the den, Louise was kissing Dwayne everywhere she could reach. "Oh, that was SOOO good! I have to have you in me!" she whispered. Some sanity had returned to Dwayne. "Honey, I just came all over the place! It's got sperm all over it! You'll get pregnant! Do you want babies?" "YES!" Louise replied, grinning from ear to ear. "But not tonight! I'll clean it..." She backed up and dove into Dwayne's crotch. Dwayne gasped as Louise's lips closed on his super-sensitive organ and he threw his head back, eyes closed. Meanwhile, Becky got a full-on shot of Louise's wet, open crotch, her pink groove wide open and dripping from her fluids as she raised her ass and lowered her head into Dwayne's crotch. That was wild, but it was girl stuff; fascination overrode caution and Becky circled around to where she could see what Louise was doing to Big Brother's dick... ... Vacuuming it, from the looks of things! Woo hoo! Big Brother was showing some stiff meat, too! Donna crept up the stairs; maybe if she scared the crap out of them, they'd settle down... The door was wide open; funny, it was awful quiet... She peered in. Vacant! Not only was Becky not there, but Louise was missing, too! And that meant... Donna headed downstairs. Meanwhile, Louise rose from cleaning Dwayne's cum off his cock and shifted herself to settle onto it. Dwayne made one more pass at sanity. "Honey, we're not using rubbers! Come on, now!" "Please! Just tell me when, and I'll jump off..." Dwayne made ready a denial, but he was too late; Louise's hot pussy engulfed him. Once he was inside, the will to stop her evaporated. "Aaaahhh!" Louise started moving and Becky, who had watched the penetration, transfixed, realized that she was too visible if Big Brother continued to act nervous. She crept back to the door, where she had a fine view of Louise bouncing up and down on Big Brother's cock, and resumed watching and masturbating. "Ohh, God!" Louise gasped in a whisper, "That's SOOOO good!" Dwayne, having given up the fight, nodded while gasping agreement. He ran his hands up under the nightie to maul Louise's nipples; she didn't need his help to ride him cowgirl-style. Instead, she was leaning forward to help him get at her breasts while catching drips of semen on his T-shirt and sucking them from her finger. "What are you doing?" he gasped. "I love your cum!" Louise gasped. Dwayne couldn't think of a thing to say... Besides, she was driving him insane with sensations from her hot pussy as it slithered up and down his pole... Louise stopped picking up semen soon after that -- she couldn't spare the attention! Another cum was coming; she could feel it! Just a little bit longer... Donna returned to the master suite as quickly as silence allowed. Mark, predictably, was sleeping... She shook his shoulder, hissing, "Mark! Wake up!" "Hrgh?" "I think we have a problem." Donna waved for him to rise and follow her, signing for silence. Louise was pumping like mad, impaling herself and rising on her muscular legs. It was a thing of beauty to watch, either from the front, as Dwayne was, or from the rear, which had Becky's rapt attention. Both she and Dwayne were breaking the silence only with quiet, panting gasps as they rushed toward completion, faster and faster. What little capability for conscious thought was left to Dwayne was in awe of Louise's endurance -- but it was clear that she was close; she was visibly flushed, and snorting, and her head was going back... She started going nuts on him again, speeding up -- and Dwayne started worrying vaguely about what he would do if his time to cum was in the middle of hers... No sooner did this flit through his mind than Louise arched herself, grinding herself against him, obviously cumming. Dwayne gritted his teeth, trying to hold back his release... Louise was deep in the throes of passion; Dwayne had given her again the gift of pleasure that she would do anything to repay. A million sparks flashed before her eyes in gently sweeping patterns... Donna crept into the living room, Mark following. There, in the door of the den, stood Becky, her feet more than shoulder width apart, staring around the corner. From behind, Donna could see the unmistakable indication of Becky's right hand working at her crotch; her left was visible under her pajama top, obviously working a nipple. Even in the poor light, it was obvious that she was flushed. Donna flashed a glance at Mark, who stood there, rooted in shock! Motioning urgently, she backed him out into the kitchen. "You realize," she whispered, "that if Becky is doing THAT..." "Oh," Mark grunted. "Oh, shit..." Donna turned for the door, but he grabbed her arm. "If they're all down here -- not up there..." "I know, I know -- it's not Dwayne's fault!" Donna hissed back. Obviously, he'd created a monster that morning, though, if Louise went looking for it less than twenty-four hours later... "Come on!" Becky's clit was on fire! Louise was obviously getting a cum as she watched off Big Brother's dick -- and Becky's fingers were right behind her... The waves began to crash, and he knees shook -- Ah, God! It was SOOO good! "REBECCA!!!!!" Becky, in mid-orgasm, was caught completely unprepared and ended up falling to the floor in a heap when her legs collapsed under her while trying to throw her three feet into the air! "MOM!" In the den, Louise literally leaped off the couch; Dwayne started fountaining semen all over the place. Louise hit the floor, blinked, and thinking quickly, kicked her panties and Dwayne's undershorts under the couch, hoping to brazen it out. Dwayne snatched at the bedclothes; his only hope was to get covered while his cock dribbled... Donna rounded on her daughter, "Go upstairs, Young Lady! Get out of my sight, you Peeping Thomasina! I'll deal with YOU later!" Turning, she strode into the den, "What you two think you're doing?" Neither Louise, nor Dwayne was really in any condition to match wits with Donna; both just stared at her, frozen. Mark came around the corner behind her, giving them two targets to stare at. Donna sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I can SMELL what you've been up to, you know! I don't have to SEE the evidence!" Turning to Louise, she added, "Do you want children, for God's sake?" Louise blinked a couple of times, then, "Eventually. Not tonight..." "And birth control -- it never occurred to either of you?" "I, uh..." Dwayne couldn't figure out how to extract himself without blaming Louise, so he shut up. Louise picked at her fingers. "There wasn't any. We tried to keep from going that far, but... Dwayne pulled out..." She looked miserable. "It's my fault; Dwayne tried to stop me, but it was SOOO good -- I just couldn't stop!" Donna turned to Dwayne, "And YOU, Young Man?" "I--I..." Dwayne spread his hands. "I was fighting both of us." He tapped his forehead. "Up here, I knew we were being stupid." He tapped the back of his head. "But back there, or maybe down there," he pointed at the general area of his crotch, still covered, "they say it's my job to, well, shoot in her. It was two against one." Donna glared, and turned an expression of disgust on Mark -- but he shrugged. "The boy's right -- birth control goes against basic instinct -- ESPECIALLY in guys!" "There's no especially about it," Louise said tonelessly. "If I come up pregnant from tonight, I won't be blaming anyone else..." Donna, still facing Mark, sighed. "Louise is right," she said in a dead voice. "If anything, the instinct is stronger in us." She turned to Dwayne, "Where do you think YOU came from? You father was diligent, but I kept forgetting..." Resignation aged her features. "Go upstairs -- both of you. Go in Dwayne's room and do what you have to. I assume that you have..." She eyed Dwayne expectantly. "Rubbers? Yes, Ma'am." "Lock the door -- Becky doesn't need any more X-rated entertainment." Donna turned her attention to Louise. "Rubbers aren't a long-term solution; they're uncomfortable, they attenuate things, and stopping to put one on can basically ruin the moment. That's why they're not a hundred percent effective -- because stopping in the heat of the moment to put one on goes against the grain." She eyed Louise, "You're eighteen, right?" "Yes, Ma'am." "Then unless your religion forbids it, I recommend that we get you to a gynecologist. "Yes, Ma'am." Donna swept her eyes over the couple. "I don't approve -- I think it's too early. But Pandora's Box is open, and it obviously isn't going to close. I want you both to be assiduous about birth control -- at least until you KNOW the relationship is going to last -- and don't rub my nose in it. Louise, your official address is Becky's room; Dwayne, I'll tolerate no hijinks in there, understood?" She got nods from both of them. "Go to bed." She turned, and led Mark out. "That was very... adult of you," Mark opined as they headed back to the master bedroom. Donna sighed. "There was no stopping them. Louise is suddenly free for the first time in her life; she's going to be a handful. Telling them they can't only drives it underground -- better to do damage control." "I agree," Mark said, then chuckled. "You realize that Dwayne's bedroom is above ours?" Donna nodded, smiling crookedly. "I'm sure we'll reap the benefits..." Oddly, despite having been granted what amounted to carte blanche, Dwayne and Louise did very little that night. They'd already had sex enough to tap their energy, and gotten some fulfillment from it; by the time they had put Dwayne's bed back together, Louise merely (merely?) wanted to spoon and neck, and Dwayne, having ejaculated twice in thirty minutes, wasn't certain that he could get there again. So aside from learning about sleeping with another person in bed with them, very little else happened until Becky hammered on Dwayne's door, yelling, "Big Brother! Big Sister! Time to get up!" Breakfast was... strained -- not due to Louise and Dwayne, but because Donna was having a hard time NOT lighting into Becky for her behavior the night before during a timeframe when nobody really had time to spare for a harangue. Becky got the point; when she got home, all Hell was going to break loose -- so she'd better plan on it! The three of them piled into Dwayne's truck to head for school, Louise in the middle in a pleated skirt just too short to be demure, and two tops over a brassiere that was both properly sized and designed to present her attributes, rather than hide them -- and flip-flops, something Louise had virtually never been allowed to wear and that she considered the height of casual wear... "I'd go barefoot, if I could," Louise remarked, eyeing her minimally-shod foot critically. "Barefoot and pregnant..." Dwayne chuckled. Becky snorted laughter; Louise, almost purple with embarrassment, whacked Dwayne on the shoulder, "Beast!" "Wild beast," Dwayne agreed, grinning. "I'm gonna have to be, to keep up with YOU!" Stick and Teddy arrived together, bringing relief to a worried Mary. Stick had ended up spending the night, and his Pop was still in the doghouse, he related. "What 'bout you?" he asked Mary. "I'm fine... Momma's settled down, but Poppa is Hell on Wheels, trying to make up for being crapped on for years." She shook her head. "I don't know how that's going to pan out. But you're both welcome, now." "I guess we can go jus' about anywheres," Stick opined, "except my house ain't really got nowhere to be private..." "Your folks are all okay with things, then?" Mary asked. "Well, they ain't thrilled, but that's general, ain't it? They're dealin' with it." Nate and Nora arrived in Nate's rattletrap about the same time as Tenisha and Draper arrived in Draper's Dodge. Given the possible repercussions, the drug dealer incident wasn't talked about, but Draper was highly pleased to be working -- and at a decent wage. "Mr. Wilson says you gonna get a hiring bonus, too!" Nate related. "Dunno how much, but I bet it's nice." "Cool." Over in the 'A' group, Dwayne's arrival with an almost unrecognizable Louise on his arm stimulated quite a buzz -- until Ted arrived and plopped down next to Claudette like he owned the place, and Claudette snuggled right up! Claudette's coterie of hangers-on sat there, looking shocked; Ted was taking liberties with Claudette that Rob had never managed in public, and, rumor had it, not in private, either! When he took her by the chin for a kiss -- and she cooperated fully, to the point of making it French -- shock waves blew across the crowd! "Isn't this maybe a bit much?" Claudette whispered quietly. Ted shook his head. "No. It's how we win -- trust me. I'm proving that you're not frigid, and that Rob is an inept lover, in one fell swoop. Our stock will go up." "I can see that," Claudette agreed, then got serious. "Ted? Please don't take advantage of me..." Ted smiled encouragement. "Don't worry -- it's not in my best interest -- or yours." ------- Armand sat at breakfast with Sharon and Jason. "Sharon, you have the household; Jason will support you as necessary, but his focus is elsewhere. Jason, you understand that this isn't a demotion -- you have a family, now, and family responsibilities. I want you to have time and energy to pursue them." Jason eyed Inez, who was serving. "Yes, sir." Inez sighed; she'd probably get a beating over this -- but then Master would probably sex her, too. "Sharon, get with Charles and Ed -- we need more servant's quarters suitable for families. Boris and Leticia are now a couple, after the fashion of Jason and Inez -- and there is an expectation of children from that union, too. If you quiz Ed, you'll probably find out that he and Velma are at least thinking about cohabitation..." "It's a regular population explosion," Sharon mused. "I'd better think about a nursery, day care..." Armand waved a hand, "Nannies and such, too. Be careful; whoever you get will need to be able to both handle the goings-on around here and shield children from the worst excesses." Sharon nodded. "Then there is Nate and Nora..." Armand nodded. "We'll be getting Nate a new car for his breaking the Staffordshire thing. He has exceeded expectation, and justified Nora's faith in him; I no longer consider him a houseguest, but family. If and when they decide to raise one, we will support it." Armand sat back, musing. "Things are in flux around here -- who knows where they're headed?" ------- The End ------- Posted: 2006-03-23 Last Modified: 2006-04-23 / 10:02:17 am ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------