Chapter 9
Vincent had finished fucking Karen, but Torne continued to hump the exhausted Becky, who was now too weak to respond to his pounding cock. "She's getting more than she bargained for," Vincent said, then took Karen by the hand and led her down the hallway.
Karen jerked at her panties and tried to pull the cum-soaked crotch out of her slit. "Where are we going?" she asked.
"You gave a fine performance," Vincent told her, "but I'm not forgetting your punishment."
"The pink room?" she asked, not taking him too seriously. After all, he had just made passionate love to her and that meant he loved her too much to truly hurt her.
"Yes."
"The cellar?" Karen frowned as he opened a door and pointed down the stairway.
"Oh, you'll find all the comforts of home down here," he said, guiding her down the stairs toward a thick oaken door. He swung the door open and pushed her inside. "Your bra and panties, please," he said.
"Oh, Vincent," she said tiredly, "a joke is a joke, but... "
His voice was suddenly stern. "It isn't a joke, Karen. Your bra and panties. Give them to me or I'll take them."
"Naked, Vincent?" she said. "You want me to stay down here completely naked?"
"It's always been the rule when I punished one of the girls," Vincent said.
"Not even a robe?"
"Don't worry," he said. "You won't be seen, and certainly you won't be entertaining any guests." He extended his hand. "Now, your bra and panties."
"At least let me keep my panties," she begged. "Something to keep from being completely naked. The idea of going all night and all day in the nude makes my skin crawl."
"Damnit, I mean it, Karen," he said. "Everything."
"Oh, all right." Karen removed her bra and panties and gave them to Vincent. He left immediately, and she began to become truly disturbed as she watched the heavy door closing and then heard the iron bar slam into place. The ominous click of the lock followed.
She looked around the room, decided that she had nothing to fear, and went to the large refrigerator. After a light snack, she retired, and she slept very soundly for the first time in days. It was, she thought upon arising the next morning very refreshed, almost good to be locked away for a while.
She was quite content until noon, and did not pay much attention to the pink walls and ceiling until about five that evening. And then the boredom of the color began to gnaw at her. She noticed for the first time that the tile beneath her feet had dull pink streaks in it.
And even the refrigerator and stove were painted pink enamel.
It could indeed drive a person nuts in time.
She tried reading a book from a well-shocked shelf beside her bed. Somehow, it didn't seem comfortable, lying on her back with a book propped up against her naked tits. And when she raised the book a few inches, she could see clear across her pale belly to her pussy-mound. The sight wasn't conducive to serious thoughts or good reading. She felt like a nudist in a one-woman colony.
It was about seven when she heard the bar being lifted away from the door. Vincent came in, hardly gave Karen a glance, and went through the two-fingers-of-Scotch routine.
"Plenty of whisky in the cabinet if you get bored," he said, then left without further conversation. The bar clanked heavily.
Karen was disappointed. She had hoped that he would fuck her. Not that she especially desired it, but it would have whiled away an hour or so. There was no way for her to know that an evening fuck-session with Vincent had always been a part of the prisoner ritual. He had, for some reason known only to himself, changed the routine in Karen's case.
For two days Vincent did not show. The food supply proved adequate and Karen did not lack for nourishment, but she was feeling the urge to climb the pink walls. On the fourth day of her confinement, she turned to the whisky cabinet for consolation. She did not drink heavily. Only enough to warm her belly and kill some of the tenseness in her limbs.
Vincent visited that evening, said a brief hello, had his Scotch, and left. Karen cried herself to sleep that night.
It had been five days. The sun had risen and the sun had set. Karen could see the darkness through the single barred window at ground level. She went to the cabinet, poured herself a drink, then decided to take the whole bottle to bed with her.
Three drinks in succession only added to her misery. It was then that she heard the sound of conversation overhead. She tried to determine the room from which it was coming, finally deciding that it was the guest bedroom on the first level. The voices weren't as difficult. One was Vincent's, the other was a girl's.
Karen listened carefully.
The girl was very, very young. Probably no more than fourteen or fifteen. And a country bumpkin.
"I never seen so many pretty pictures," the girl said. "Are you a... an artist, Mister Kingston?"
"A collector," Vincent said. "I collect all beautiful things."
That same tired old line. Karen wondered how many times he had used it.
"Girls, too?"
"Why do you ask that, Teressa?"
"Just talk, I reckon," the girl said. "Besides, Pa always told us girls to stay away from here.
He said all sorts of bad things happened here."
"Good things, Teressa," Vincent said softly. "Only very good things." He laughed. "Your daddy just doesn't like rich people, even if he does work for me."
"I guess," she said.
"Are you afraid of me, Teressa?"
"I don't know, Mister Kingston. Would you like it if I bought you a real pretty dress?"
The girl giggled. "Ma says never to take nothing from no man. She says he always wants something for it."
"That isn't necessarily so, Teressa," Vincent said. "Maybe I want to buy you pretty things because I like you."
"I... wish you wouldn't rub my leg like that, Mister Kingston," she said. "It makes me feel funny all over."
"You have very pretty legs, Teressa," he said. "Soft and slim, and white like milk."
"Please don't push up my dress, Mister Kingston!"
"Ill buy you some new panties, too," Vincent said huskily. "You will?"
"Yes. Pink and red and blue. All colors. With flowers and butterflies on them. And so thin you can see through them."
"Ma wouldn't let me wear them. She thinks pretty underthings are sinful."
"Do you, Teressa?"
"No."
"Yours are cotton," Vincent said. "Cheap cotton. You deserve something better--a pretty little girl like you. You're growing up, honey. Becoming a woman. You already have a woman's breasts."
"Your... finger tickles," she giggled. "Anybody ever tickled between your legs like this, Teressa?"
"Just once. Ummm."
"Your daddy?"
"No, just a boy I know."
"Did he take your panties off?"
"He tried to."
"But you didn't let him?"
"No. My sister came in before he could." She giggled. "He had his thing out and you shoulda seen him trying to stuff it back in his britches. It was funny. All hard and stiff and he couldn't do nothing with it."
Karen fumed in the basement. Vincent was going too far. She didn't know where the girl had come from, but he had deliberately brought her there to add to Karen's own misery.
Karen put the, whisky aside and stood on the bed, trying to get her ear closer to the ceiling.
"Why are you taking your clothes off, Mister Kingston?" the girl asked.
"You have your dress off, Teressa."
"But you took it off."
"So I did," Vincent said. "But I'm going to get you another one. A pretty new one."
"It makes me feel funny, just sitting here in my bra and panties," Teressa said. "And I ain't never seen a man plumb naked before."
He laughed. "Well, what do you think about it, seeing a naked man for your first time?"
"All tingly and warm," she said.
"I'd like to see all of you, honey."
"Oh, I can't take everything off, Mister Kingston!"
"I gave you fifty dollars to come here with me," Vincent said. "We should have a little fun."
"You said you just wanted to show me your big house," she said. "You didn't say nothing about fun."
"Another twenty dollars if you'll take off your bra and panties, Teressa."
"Well... " She paused. "But you can't do nothing but look. I mean, you can't touch me or nothing like you was doing before."
"Why?"
"It's different--a man touching you when you're plumb naked."
Karen jumped from the bed and kicked the thick oaken door until her foot hurt. She feared that she had broken it and that she would have to hobble around like Torne for the rest of her life. Vincent was needlessly putting on the sex show. She wasn't going to listen to him seduce that moronic teen-ager. But, moments later, she found herself standing on her tiptoes on the bed.
The bastard had worked fast.
"Oh!" the girl moaned. "Don't suck it so hard, Mister Kingston. Oh, my titty!"
"Just move your legs apart," Vincent urged. "That's it. No. Don't jerk them back together like that. Let me get between them. There."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm just going to... "
"No, you can't, Mister Kingston!"
"Now, Teressa, don't be frightened. It won't hurt."
"I'll tell my pa!"
"I've a hundred-dollar bill in my wallet," Vincent said. "Do you want to see it?"
"I've never seen a hundred-dollar bill before."
"Well, it's yours, Teressa, if you let me put my cock in just once."
"I... never done nothing like this before," she whimpered.
"Don't cry, Teressa. There. See? It just slips in real easy, a little bit at a time."
"Oh! It's so big. Don't push it so hard. Uhhhhh!"
"There. Doesn't it feel good? Now I'll just move it up and down a few times. Like this."
"Oh.
Uh. Oh. Uh!"
"There. That's it!" Vincent cried. "Push your pretty little ass up to meet it. That's the girl.
Ah! Hunch. Rotate it. Shove your furry little pussy way up on my cock!"
Karen almost fell, clutched-at the wall for support, then fell anyway. She lost precious time getting her ear back to the ceiling. The bedsprings above her were being vigorously assaulted by two bodies.
"Ahhhh!" the girl cried. "Put it all the way in. Put that big cock way up in my belly. Fuck.
Oh, blow your big balls. Uhhhhh. Oh, God. You sweet bastard. I ain't never come like that before. Ahhhhh!"
A brief moment of silence. The springs squeaked slightly. A long moment of silence followed.
"You lied to me," Vincent said angrily. "You're about as inexperienced as my grandmother, and she had fifteen children."
"Just give me my money."
"A fifteen-year-old whore," Vincent gritted.
The girl laughed, and her laughter was more brassy than childish. "I ain't never given away a piece in all my life, Mister. Now, are you gonna give me my money?"
"Hell, no!"
"Let's see," she mused. "What will the charges against you be? Molesting a minor? Carnal knowledge? Statutory rape?"
"Take the fucking money and get your ass out!"
Karen sank down on the bed, shaking with laughter. Vincent Kingston, shrewd, lecherous bastard that he was, had been taken by a child less than half his age. Karen reached for the bottle, then had second thoughts. After being thoroughly embarrassed, Vincent would be ashamed to show his face for days. Karen didn't know whether that was good or bad.
It turned out bad.
• i The sixth day of loneliness and pink was pure agony.
On the seventh, in a drunken stupor, Karen climbed onto a chair and hammered the glass from the barred window with a small iron frying pan. She screamed like a banshee, again and again, then fell to the floor and pressed her face against the cold pink tile. The deep sobbing racked through her body and culminated in her violently quivering buttocks.
Oh, God! she thought. What she wouldn't give to be back in her father's bed. What she wouldn't give to be back in anybody's bed! Being so alone was unbearable. Being alone was worse than all the perversions Vincent had practiced upon her. If only someone would hear her--help her--she would pay any price!
She arose, staggered to the bed, and slept. When she opened her eyes, she looked at the luminous face on the clock beside her bed. The red hand swept around and around. She squinted her eyes. It was two in the morning.
She buried her face in the pillow, listening to her own breathing. A sound came to her ears. She sat up. Someone was on the other side of the oaken door. The lock rattled loudly, then was muffled. And then she heard the bar sliding away.
The door eased open and then closed. Someone was in the room with her. She could hear a man's deep, passionate breathing.
"Vincent?"
No response.
She flung herself at the dark figure and threw her arms around him. Tears were streaming down her face. "Vincent. Oh, Vincent!"
She clung to him, pressing her face against his chest. The smell oi him was familiar. The arms that held her were strong and comforting. She had made a mistake.
"Do you want Vincent?" Billy Denim asked. He spoke with a lump in his throat, with hurt and disappointment.
"No, no," she said quickly. "I... I'm sorry. But I was driven to wanting anybody."
"Even Torne?" he asked.
"Oh, God," she said miserably. "Even Torne. Any human at all!"
"What has he done to you?" Denim asked bitterly. "What have you become?"
She slid down his body, her hands clinging to his hips. "I don't know, Billy," she whispered passionately. "I just know that I need to feel wanted. I need you. Oh, love me, Billy!"
He stood immobile and silent, still hurt because she had cried out for Vincent Kingston.
Karen buried her face against his groin, wetting the front of his jeans with her tears. She cried for a while longer, pleading with him to speak to her, to make love to her. f He took a deep breath. "I went through a lot of trouble to get in here,' he said finally. "The lock wasn't the easiest thing in the world to pick."
"You came," she said. "That's all that matters."
"I didn't know what had happened to you," he said. "I thought you'd gone the way of all of Vincent's girls when I saw him bring that little young slut into the house."
"Seven days," she murmured. "I've been here seven days. Staring at these screaming pink walls and drinking like a fish."
"And yet you cry out for that bastard," Denim said harshly.
"I'm sorry, Billy," she whimpered, pressing her face more firmly against his groin. "I... didn't know it was you. I don't care for Vincent any more. Believe me, I don't. What... can I do to prove it to you?" He was silent again.
She sensed the warm bulge of his prick against her face. It was nestled up against his balls, but it was definitely becoming hard.
"Anything," she murmured. "Anything to prove it." She fumbled for the zipper on his jeans, found it, and pulled.
She reached inside, extracted his pulpy prick and kissed it feverishly. It stiffened abruptly.
"Ill prove it... prove it," she gasped. Her fingers worked frantically. She undid his belt and deftly peeled both his jeans and shorts down his lean tensed thighs.
He sucked in his breath.
She drew his balls toward her mouth and licked the warm curve of them, and then she kissed along his huge cock-shaft until she came to his glans. Then, almost furtively, she faced his stiff penis and took his throbbing cock-head into her mouth.
He hissed between gritted teeth.
"I'll prove it... prove it," she said, her mouth making a slurping noise. "Glaaaa... oh...
prove it!"
"You don't have to prove anything," Denim groaned, but he did not physically protest her unexpected cock-sucking. Her warm sucking mouth fully enclosed his glans, and he groaned more loudly. Had he known that this ecstasy had awaited him, he could have broken through a door of solid steel with his bare hands.
Karen was captivated by the nearness of him, by his very presence. It was great not to be alone .in the world, to know that somebody cared for her.
"Mmmmmmmmm."
The small light from the face of the clock reflected eerily on his balls and the hair bunched around his thick cock-shaft. She drove her face inward, making guttural sounds as she took in as much of his prick-shaft as her mouth would hold. He fucked his glans against her throat.
She returned to his blood-engorged knob, licking and sucking. "I love it, I love it," she mewed.
"My God, Karen," he exclaimed as the suction of her mouth became voracious. His glans felt as if it was being torn from the end of his prick by the red lips that hungrily clasped it.
He ejaculated.
She caught the first jet against her curling pink tongue. "Mmmm," she sighed. Another struck more deeply into her mouth. "Mmmmmmm." She tenderly sucked his hot stalk, drawing the come-juice from deep within his balls. He came again.
She cooed over his glistening cock-head, then licked it like a cat.
They lay side by side on the bed, resting. Denim had his hand between Karen's thighs, and the contact was comforting to her.
"Vincent had that young girl upstairs to spite me," she said.
"A little whore," Denim said. "I ran her daddy in on a carnal-knowledge charge when I was a cop. The girl was twelve at the time."
"Carnal knowledge?"
"Yeah. He fucked hell out of Teressa."
"Oh."
"Her old man works on the loading platform at the trucking terminal," Denim said. "I guess she was visiting and caught Vincent's eye. He probably worked her old man late and offered to take the girl home. He brought her here instead. Vincent didn't know it, but the girl and her daddy probably had it all set up between them. It'd bring in a few extra bucks, and Vincent certainly couldn't fire the daddy after fucking his young daughter." Denim chuckled. "That's one cherry Vincent didn't get."
Karen giggled, both at the joke and at the fact that Denim's finger was tickling her love- flesh.
"You almost got my cherry," she said.
"Yeah?"
"Just Vincent before you." She sighed and ran her hand along his prick. "I wish you had been the first with me, Billy." She turned on her side and slid one leg across his body. His stiffening prick lay just against her inner thigh. "Fuck me, Billy," she whispered. "Like it was my first time with anybody." v Astride him, she leaned forward and lifted her ass, searching for his prick-tip with her cunt.
She found it and pressed firmly against his hot knob until it began to penetrate.
"Ah... "
Denim slammed the remainder of his cock into her cunt. "Ahhhhhh!"
They made love gently until her warm cunt-fluids trickled along his shaft and began to gather around his balls. She jammed her ass at him a bit faster as he continued to thrust into her hole. The pleasing friction was too much. She couldn't wait. "Now bang me, Billy!"
she cried. "Really bang me!"
Her lovely young tits swung like pendulums, but Denim could not see their perfection in the darkness. Occasionally, the light from the clock would catch a taut pink nipple and he would thrust his tongue at it, trying to capture it. Karen became more frantic as she pressed for orgasm. Denim could feel the cunt-fluids dropping from her churning pussy in small hot globs that splattered against his balls and thighs.
He gripped her ass, trying to slow its vigorous movement. He was about to ejaculate. His fingers caressed her warm ass-crack, digging at her asshole. Impulsively, he rammed one finger inward. The tight membrane was lubricated with her cunt-fluids and his finger slipped in easily.
"Dear God, Billy!" she sobbed, crushing one breast against his mouth. "Suck my tit... I'm about to come!"
Karen thought that she would probably never experience another orgasm exactly like this one. His mouth on her tit, his cock deep in her belly, his finger pushing into her asshole.
Vincent had never matched it.
"Ah. God. Wonder... ful!" She came in gasps and gushes, then let her soft, quivering curves sink against Denim's hairy chest and muscular belly.
"That was good," she said moments later.
"Damnit, little girl," he said wearily. "I think I love you."
"Enough to take me away from this place?" She kissed him, then stuck out her pink tongue and licked at his ear. His prick had gone soft, but it still rested in the warm folds of her pussy. She wished that it had stayed hard, that it could remain in her belly forever and feed it a continuous stream of his come-juice.
"Do you really want to go?"
"I've tried twice, haven't I?" she said. "I'm tired of being a part of Vincent's collection."
Her ass-cheeks came firmly together in a clenching action. Denim's finger remained in her anus. It felt delicious. "Don't," she protested as he tried to withdraw it. "Leave it in. I like it."
He began to massage the tight membrane and it loosened to his caress. "You know we can't just walk out, dont you," he said. "Not this moment."
"I don't have any clothes," she said.
"Right," he said. "And if we try to get them tonight, it'll surely awaken Torne. He sleeps with one eye open."
"Are you afraid of Torne?" she asked.
"No," Denim said grimly. "Just cautious. If he discovers us, I know I can't whip him in a fair fight. I'll have to kill him."
"No! I don't want that," Karen said quickly.
"Not that I wouldn't like to smash the bastard's thick skull," Denim said. "But I don't want to spend the rest of my life running, when there's an easier way."
"Well... uh... oh... what do we do?" His finger in her asshole was becoming more pleasurable as Denim continued the probing. It was even making her clit throb.
"I'll go into town tomorrow and buy you a dress, shoes and panties," he said.
"Umm... ah... oh," she said. "And... and a bra," she managed to add.
"Yeah," he said. "Got to .have something to hold up those cute tits." Denim grimaced. He couldn't keep his mind on the conversation. He had another big hard-on and Karen kept squirming her hot little pussy against it. He pushed his finger deeper in her asshole.
"Uh... uhhhhh!" she groaned. "Go on. With... the plan, I mean."
"I'll come back tomorrow night and pick the lock again," he said. "I'll bring the clothes, you dress, and well be on our way."
"About... uh... two?" she asked. Dear God. She wished he'd just shove all of his finger up her ass. "Ooooo!"
"Two," he said.
His prick-meat was pinned between her belly and his. She lifted herself and sat on his thighs, clutching his thick shaft with both hands.
"If I could see it, I bet it would be beautiful," she said.
"You'll see a lot of it," he laughed. "One more time?" she asked. "I cant wait until tomorrow."
"If I'm up to it," he said. "You're up," she giggled.
Karen lifted herself on her knees and pushed his prick between her legs. His cock-head slipped through the fluid-laden slit she presented. She continued to guide it deeper between her legs.
"Damn," he said. "Are you trying to break it off?"
She wiggled her ass. "Take your finger out." He did.
She probed at herself with his prick until his glans was against her asshole.
"I love you," she whispered. "Everywhere. Every way."
"You want to... "
"Like Agatha got it," she said, and her face wasn't burning at all. "I've never had it that way before."
"In your... "
"Oh, yes!" she cried. "In my ass. Shove that big wonderful prick in my ass!"
She eased higher on him, then began to carefully lower her buttocks against his cock- shaft. She bit her lips as she began to impale herself. Her lubricated asshole slowly opened to his huge knob. She added more pressure and felt a stab of pain. It was almost like committing suicide, she supposed, but she couldn't stop. The gripping circle of her asshole continued to spread around his cock-head, then the bulbous thing slipped abruptly into her hole.
"Whew... wow!" She came abruptly.
The quick climax wasn't enough for Karen. She wanted to be loved, and she wanted to be punished for loving so recklessly and so wantonly. There was no better way than to drive his thick prick-shaft into her very bowels. She hunched softly at it, then suddenly slammed her entire weight toward his testicles.
"Uggggghhhhh!" She groaned loudly. She had almost overdone it. How much, how many inches she had in her, she didn't know. But it was gut-bursting. It was painful, and it was out of place, and she was sorry that she had asked Billy to lend himself to such a perverse act. He probably thought that she had lied to him about being almost innocent. He probably thought that she was no better than the little slut, Teressa.
She tried to withdraw from the impalement, but Denim was pushing his stiff prick back into her tight asshole. His cock-head surged, hot and sensual, sending its lustful message to her private parts. She slammed her ass back at it, not wanting to lose the strange and wonderful sensation that was suddenly creeping over her buttocks, through her slit, and to her hot, wet clit. She panted and hunched. Sweat dripped hot and freely from her bouncing tits. Denim began to react, thrusting shortly and gently.
"Oh, fuck my sweet ass, Billy Denim!" she sobbed in a sudden outburst of heartfelt passion. She hammered her ass at him as mercilessly as he thrust his stiff cock into her ass-canal.
"Karen... "
"Hold me, Billy!" she cried. "Keep thrusting!"
When he drove his shaft to a stopping place somewhere deep inside her body, Denim came in strong, hot jets that bathed her insides. And she came with him. In waves that lapped one on the other. And it was totally perverse, and thoroughly sordid, and very, very wonderful.
"Enough?" he asked.
"Enough," she agreed. "Until tomorrow."
After Denim had gone, carefully locking the door behind him, Karen lay on the bed, too happy to sleep. Her body was drenched with perspiration, and his cock-juice still oozed from both orifices. She was glad everything had happened just as it had. At least, she had managed to give Billy Denim a part of her virginity.
She reached for the bottle of whisky next to the clock and put it to her lips. But she did not drink. Instead, she flung it across the room. She wouldn't need it any more. And another thing. She didn't even care if the fucking walls were pink. She could take anything for one more day.