Chapter 5

Alone in her own bed, the spell worn off, Karen began to realize what a perverse act Vincent had forced her to commit. No. Forced wasn't the right word. He had pushed his cock at her, then he titillated her until she had willingly sucked him off. She had, in fact, become voraciously involved at one point. Her own weakness made the act of cock- sucking seem even more horrible. Was there no limit to what she would do when she wasa sufficiently aroused? God. And to think that she had once been repelled because her father had made a few simple advances toward her!

It made her doubly bitter because she had been forewarned by Becky. She was a fool to have ignored the girl's words of wisdom. She was indeed becoming a zombie. A wanton, flesh-loving zombie. Vincent was gaining control of her mind and her body.

She made a firm decision. Even if she was penniless and homeless, she had to get away from the mansion before it was too late. She didn't want to end up like Becky--bitter lines around her mouth and an empty expression in her eyes.

Karen swallowed nervously. The taste of Vincent's cock-sap lingered in her mouth. Finally, she slept, and her dreams were filled with gigantic pricks coming at her from all directions.

She moaned to show her fright and disgust, but she knew that she loved the sight of them.

The next morning, about an hour after Vincent had left the mansion, Karen took out her small suitcase and packed it. She was wearing the same skirt and blouse that she had worn upon arriving at the mansion, and the battered suitcase contained none of the pretty underclothing that Vincent had purchased for her. When she left, she didn't intend to be carrying anything that would remind her of him.

She crept cautiously down the stairs. As usual, Torne was out of sight and hearing, and she proceeded to the front door. She paused between the tall white columns, suddenly filled with a sense of reluctance. She actually hated to leave!

She fought against her own flesh. Her cunt-mound was itchy and congested, and her nipples tingled with forbidden excitement. She would never forget the things that had happened to her here, and she could not truthfully say that Vincent had not been good to her.

Karen took a deep breath. She knew that she was trying to rationalize, trying to build justification for staying. It would be so easy to say that everything was good, that nothing was wrong, but this was always the argument of the totally corrupt. Dear God. I don't want to be totally corrupt! With this thought she leaped down the steps.

She looked over her shoulder, expecting to see Torne lurching after her on his bad foot.

When he did not appear, her heart beat more easily. It was going to be a whole new world for her. She could hear the birds singing and the dew was still fresh on the grass. She approached the tall iron gate. It was locked. Her heart did a slow flutter.

"You can scale the wall."

She turned to see Billy Denim coming from the gardener's cottage. "Open the gate for me," she said. "You must have a key."

"No can do," he said. He wasn't wearing a shirt and his arms were crossed against his hairy, slightly perspiring chest. "Vincent would have my ass if I even gave you a little push up the wall."

"I've got to get away, Billy," she said desperately. "I can't stay here any longer. You don't know what it's like."

"I think I do." He grimaced. "Vincent is getting to you?"

"No," she blurted, ashamed to tell him the naked truth. "I... I've just decided to go home."

"I've heard about his fuck-sessions," Denim said. "I sit down here in this lousy cottage at night and I can almost hear the pretty girls moaning with pleasure as he makes love to them. Two damned years I've sat here and wondered what it would be like to be in Vincent's shoes--or drawers. Young, naked girls dancing around me and doing all manners of things to make me happy."

Karen blushed hotly. She wished to God that she could stop telegraphing her inner feelings. "It isn't that way," she said. "It isn't that way at all."

"Oh, shit." Denim scowled darkly. "Why do women do the things they do if they value the aura of innocence so much? You can find one with a ten-inch prick shoved up her snatch and she'll proclaim her innocence."

"Don't be vulgar," Karen said.

"Then don't be lying to me," Denim said. "Becky told me how it was."

"You talked to Becky?"

He nodded. "She stopped and chatted for a while when she was here. Even came into the cottage for a few minutes. Now me, I'm truthful. She's a pretty fair piece of ass considering that Vincent had already run her through the wringer."

"You... " Karen was blushing again.

"I never could refuse anything that was offered to me for free," Denim said, grinning. "Oh, stop blushing, Karen. I'm sure that Vincent's taught you all the ABC's of sex."

"Oh!" Karen stomped her feet like an angry child. "Just open the gate."

"Nope," Denim said. "This job beats pounding the beat and having some beefy-faced horse's ass with a badge giving me hell all the time. If I let you go, I'm out of work. Vincent, bastard though he is, pays better than the city council."

"I'll do anything, Billy," she whispered desperately.

"Anything?"

"Anything!"

His eyes ran up and down her body, mentally undressing her again. "I believe you would," he said.

"I don't mean... " she stammered.

"Sure you do," he said. "You mean exactly that. Anything. Anything old Billy wants." His arms snaked around her narrow waist and he pulled her to him. His prick was hot and pulpy against her pussy-mound. She struggled for a brief moment as he kissed her deeply, and then she let the suitcase fall at her feet.

"Don't, Billy," she protested, but she could not put together a great deal of resistance. His prick stiffened against her pussy. She felt a glow in her pussy-slit and buttocks.

His fingers dug at her ass-flesh, and then he suddenly released her. "Right now, honey," he said hoarsely, "you're too hot for me to handle."

Karen noticed that Billy was looking toward the mansion. She turned. Torne was standing in the doorway, looking toward the cottage.

"You better go back," Denim said, obviously unnerved by the sight of the big Negro.

"I can't, Billy!"

"You have to," he insisted. "Torne's as strong as three men. I can hold my own in any street brawl, but I'm not crazy enough to go up against Torne without a billy in my hand.

Even then, I'd probably lose."

"You're afraid?"

"Shit, no!" Denim spat. "I just don't want to lose my head over a piece of ass."

"Oh, shit," she said miserably.

"Don't look like it's the end of the world," Denim said. "You can try again tomorrow, when Torne isn't looking. I'll see that you get out the gate-if you keep your end of the bargain."

Karen could almost feel his stiff prick-shaft still probing at her cunt, although he was standing several feet away from her. She had made no agreement with him, but she knew what he meant "I'll keep my end of the bargain," she said.

"Before you leave?" His lust-filled eyes were intense and his mouth was a hungry line in his face "Before I leave," she promised, then picked up the suitcase and slowly walked back toward the waiting butler.

"I'll carry that back upstairs for you, Missy," Torne said solemnly, taking the suitcase from her hand.

"Torne," she said, "I wasn't going to... "

"Makes no difference to me what you was going to do, Miss Karen," he said. "You didn't.

That's all that counts. Mr. Kingston would've been mighty displeased to come home and find you gone."

"Would he have blamed you?" Karen asked, following him inside.

"He'd have blamed everybody," Torne said. "Heads would've rolled."

"I don't want to make you lose your job, Torne," she said.

"I do need it, Missy," Torne said. "Don't nobody care about hiring a crippled black man, even if he can do the work of a mule."

"I'm sorry, Torne."

"If you're sorry, you won't cause me no more aggravation," Torne said. "And you'll stay away from the cottage. Ain't nothing down there for you but trouble. Trouble for me, too."

He limped up the stairs and left Karen standing in the living room.

That evening, as usual, Vincent made love to Karen. She responded ardently, not because of Vincent's technique, but because she did not want to arouse his suspicions.

Obviously, Torne had not told him of her attempted escape from the grounds.

"You're homy tonight, baby," he said, thrusting his cock-meat into her deeply.

"Hot... hot," she murmured, whipping her ass at him in a frenzy of make-believe passion.

Then, on the verge of climax, she discovered that the make-believe passion had become the real thing. Her thoughts were suddenly centered on Billy Denim and not on the man who was fucking her.

She could not believe the things going through her head. She was being loved by one man, yet she was wantonly thinking of another. It only went to prove that Vincent had indeed made a whore of her.

It was not a very nice thought. She wasn't educated in the psychology of sex, but she knew how society would judge her. A man who desired variety was virile. A woman who desired variety was a slut. It was discomforting to think of herself as a slut when she had not yet reached her eighteenth birthday.

"Fuck me, Vincent," she cried, trying to shut out the image of Billy Denim's laughing face and bulging cock-lump. "Oh, fuck me!"

She shuddered ecstatically as Vincent ejaculated. But it wasn't Vincent who was coming in her pussy. It was Billy Denim. And each hot jet of cum was putting her one step closer to freedom. Once, the final drop was spent, he would rise from between her legs and fling open the iron gate.

"Oh, Billy!" she almost exclaimed, but stifled the sound by biting her tongue. Vincent caught the final desperate nibble of her pussy-walls against his cock-head and never knew the difference.

When she left the house the next morning, Karen was wearing her housecoat. She wanted to make it appear that she was going for a stroll in the garden. Underneath she wore a skirt and blouse, and she had purposely left her suitcase behind. If Torne saw her, he would suspect nothing.

She made a wide circle through the greenery and came out beside the cottage. Billy Denim was standing in the doorway, looking toward the mansion. "You should have been a commando," he said. "Did Torne have his eye on you?"

"I haven't seen him this morning," she said.

"You can bet your sweet ass he's around somewhere," Denim said. "Well, let's get inside before he does spot you." He led her into the cottage, bolted the door and pulled the shades.

"Mmmmm," she sighed as he kissed her in total darkness. He had named his price and she meant to pay it. And, strangely enough, she felt no reluctance to do so.

Denim released her and turned on the light. "I'm not rushing you," he said, "but I wanted to know if you were just leading me on."

"Do you think I am?" she asked impishly. "No." He grinned. "I liked your response. You kissed like you meant it."

"You bet I did," she whispered. "And I'm not ashamed of it."

He kissed her again. Karen took off her housecoat, but did not attempt to remove the clothing she wore beneath it. She didn't deny that she wanted Denim to make love to her, but rewarding him with her body made her feel cheap. The warm trembling in her belly pushed aside any reservations. She couldn't wait for Denim to start.

"We... we'd better get it over with," she said. "I mean I have to get away quickly if I'm going to go."

Denim was already barefooted and shirtless. His thumbs were hooked near the zipper of his jeans. Karen could see the magnificent cock-bulge forming at the tight crotch of his pants.

"You sure you want to?" he asked.

"I have to, don't I?" She thought it was kind of him to make it appear that she had a choice, that she wasn't really trading her body for her freedom.

"I was just thinking it might all be for nothing," he said. "Even if I let you go, Vincent might send Torne after you."

He wasn't kidding. He was sincere!

Karen began to fear that he wasn't going to fuck her. "I'll chance that," she said quickly, then backed toward the bed without further encouragement from Denim. She sat on the edge of the mattress. Jittery. Time was an important factor. "Oh, hurry," she whispered.

Denim skinned his jeans and shorts across his narrow hips. Karen caught herself lusting over his body. His belly was flat and muscular, his thighs strong and lean. His prick-shaft protruded long and thick from his hairy groin. It was lovely to look at. Even his balls excited her. So pink and virile-looking.

He sat on the bed with her and put his hand on her knee. "You want to take your clothes off?" he asked.

"Not everything," she said softly. "It'll take too long to undress, then dress again. Just my panties."

"Well?"

"You do it." She smiled.

She lay on her back and Denim reached beneath her skirt, searching for the waistband of her panties. She lifted herself while he peeled the panties over her trembling ass-flesh.

And then she stared hot-eyed at him as he pushed her skirt high on her belly. The sight of the pale female belly leading to lush dark hair on her pussy-mound caused his hard-on to twitch.

He caressed her flat, quivering belly. His hand was damp against her skin. "I'm a little nervous about the whole thing," he said.

"Why? Torne?"

"I just can't believe my own good fortune," he said. "That I'm finally getting one of Vincent's girls. Besides Becky, I mean. She doesn't count, having already been thrown out. But you're prime stuff, honey. He still wants to keep you. That's enough to make me get my rocks off. Vincent's girl in my bed!"

"Don't talk about Vincent anymore." Karen continued to he on her back, her face flushed, her eyes misty with desire. She liked the way his hand traveled around her body from the waist down. His fingers were not demanding or brutal. They were simply touching, gently exploring each curve and crevice of her ass-flesh, thighs, and pussy-mound. Her clit was beginning to throb and her cunt-slit was becoming moist with excitement.

His hand clutched her furry cunt-mound and she sensed his desperation. "You're so damned beautiful," he croaked. "But... you're just a kid."

"I'm a woman," she whispered, wanting him, arching her pussy toward him.

His smile was tight and serious. "When I was a cop, I wanted to run every boy in that I saw trying to seduce a young girl like you." He continued to rub her, his fingers caressing the lips of her pussy.

"I... I've already been seduced," she said urgently, wishing he'd hurry and put that big delicious-looking prick-shaft between her legs.

"So damned young," he said.

"It doesn't matter!"

"Once a cop, always a cop, I guess." But even as he was talking, he was easing his finger against her love-flesh.

"Oh!"

She put her hand over his, holding it to her cunt.

"I mean, I keep thinking you'd have been jail-bait in the old days," he said. "Before free love. Before the Lib movement. Now it's considered chic for a girl to fuck as soon as she has hair on her little pussy." His finger tenderly caressed her asshole, then slipped back through her seeping pussy-slit. He slipped a third of his finger into her pussy-channel.

"Uhhhh... oh!" She lifted her ass, pushing her cunt toward his probing finger. "Don't be so moralistic!" she cried.

"Damnit!" he gritted. "I've been trying to give you an out. I've been trying to tell you that you don't have to go through with the deal. You don't have to fuck me! I'll get you through the gate, anyway."

"But I want to!" she cried, eyeing his big hard-on. Suddenly, her hand snaked toward the thick prick-meat and she captured it in a viselike grip. His cock-head surged beyond her fingers.

"You... asked... for... it." With a groan Denim rolled between her spread white thighs.

She lifted her body to meet his initial fuck-thrust, and he fed his cock-meat quickly into the gaping, twitching lips of her hot little pussy.

"Oh, my sweet!" she sobbed, throwing her arms around his neck and nibbling hungrily at his mouth as his huge prick sank to the hilt in her pussy. "Oh, fuck me, Billy Denim. Do it because it feels so good. Fuck me because... because I love you!"

His prick amply filled her hungry, clutching cunt-channel. She felt as if her body had just received a badly needed injection. They were perfectly matched. Her cunt was like a snug wet glove against his cock. Her pussy-walls gripped his smooth, slippery glans, and her clit slithered deliciously against his thrusting cock.

"Oh, God!" Karen was ecstatic. She felt wonderful, and it wasn't just lust. Vincent Kingston had done all manners of things to her body, but he'd never managed to make her feel quite like this. Denim was pounding furiously into her cunt, and her rapidly working ass was making vigorous movements as she tried to match his fuck-thrusts.

There was a tapping at the door. Karen tried to sit up, but Denim's pounding cock forced her down again. It was too good. She couldn't leave it. The thick cock-shaft was slick with her love-fluids, moving freely and easily into her expanding pussy-channel. The ballooning had started. The terribly wonderful congestion was growing. She was very near a climax.

"Somebody's... ummmm... knocking," she managed to say.

His cock-thrusts deepened. "The door's locked," he groaned.

"Oh, keep fucking me," she whined, and tried to open the front of her blouse so that he could kiss her breasts. Denim was trying to help her.

"Damnit." He tore the buttons away and her bra was exposed, the heaving tits pushing over the cups.

The tapping continued.

"It might be Torne," she gasped, trying to writhe from beneath the bra. Finally, her tits popped out of the cups. The nipples were hard and pointy.

Denim screwed her furiously.

"Don't stop," she cried, lifting her tasty globes toward his straining, reaching lips. "Oh, suck my titties!" Her desire at the moment was more powerful than her fear of the black giant.

Denim began to smother her tit-flesh with kisses as he fucked frantically. "Deeper," she sobbed. "Oh, put that big prick way up in my pussy and... oh, God! I'm coming, Billy!"

Her come-fluid spurted around Denim's embedded cock. He made guttural sounds. His teeth clung to one nipple, his lips sucking just beyond the areola. He jammed his prick- shaft in to the balls and ejaculated, then took a few short quick afterstrokes to completely drain his cock-juice into her clasping pussy.

"Bravo," she said, commending his efforts. "That was wonderful, Billy Denim."

Denim groaned, stiffened his legs, and reluctantly withdrew his cock from her pussy. The hammering at the door had grown more forceful. "Torne... " he said.

Karen sat up. She searched for her panties, couldn't find them, and jerked the hem of her skirt over her cum-streaked thighs. She looked toward the door. She regretted not having been able to lie in Denim's arms and enjoy the aftereffects of her orgasm, but her heart had begun to pound with a new kind of excitement. She heard the loud thump of a man's shoulder against the door. Once. Twice. Three times.

The door splintered open and Torne stood spraddle-legged in the doorway. He glared at Denim. "You just had to do it, didn't you, boy?" he said. "You just had to get in the pretty Missy's pants."

"Just get the fuck out of here, Torne," Denim said. "What's done is done. There's nothing you can do about it now."

"I can whup your white ass," Torne said. "That's what I can do. Mr. Kingston ain't gonna like it when he finds out you been doing it with Miss Karen."

"She's through with Kingston," Denim said.

"I'm afraid she ain't," Torne said. "Not 'til Mr. Kingston says so."

"I told her she could leave," Denim said.

Torne looked at Karen, who was still searching around the bed for her missing panties.

"Denim tell you that you could go, Miss Karen?"

"Yes."

"Well, he's done told you a big lie, Missy," Torne said. "You got to stay right here until Mr.

Kingston gives the word."

"Until he tires of me," Karen said bitterly. "When will that be, Torne?"

"I don't know, Missy," Torne said, shaking his head. "I just know that you just got through trad in' Denim something for nothing. You got to go back to the big house."

"Wait until I find my... "

Denim said, "You're not going anywhere with this big buck," he gritted, placing himself between Karen and Torne. "I said you could leave, and a promise is a promise."

Torne gave out with a menacing grin. "A promise ain't a promise if you can't keep it, Denim."

"Wait," Karen said quickly, jumping from the bed. "I don't want any fighting over me. I... I'll go with you, Torne."

Her decision came too late. Denim had already swung a fist against the big black's chest.

Torne hardly lost his composure.

"You're just a fly, Denim," he said. "And I'm gonna swat you like one."

"Damn you!" Denim bravely swung again at the advancing butler. Torne took the blow squarely on his rock-hard chin. He blinked once, snarled, then picked Denim up and flung him bodily across the room. Denim crashed against the wall, tried to pull himself erect, then sprawled helplessly on his face.

Karen rushed toward her lover, but Torne stopped her. "He ain't hurt, Missy. Just got the wind knocked out of him right good."

"Let me see him, let me talk to him," Karen cried.

"Later," Torne said.

"Now!"

"No."

Karen fought him as he picked her up in his muscular. arms. He spotted her panties sticking from beneath a pillow, picked them up, and shoved them against her exposed tit- flesh. "Here," he grunted. "You might need these."

Karen blushed hotly. As Torne carried her out the door, she looked back to see Billy Denim getting to his knees. She was greatly relieved and she stopped struggling with the big Negro. "I can walk," she said.

Torne grinned broadly, his teeth like white pearls against his dark face. "You can run, too, Missy, and I ain't hankerin' for no race with this bad foot of mine." He lugged her toward the mansion, and she could see that he was trying hard to keep from looking at the pale globes of her exposed breasts. They were but partially hidden by the panties she clutched between them. The nipples shone redly.

"Do you like me, Torne?" she asked.

"I reckon I do, Missy."

"Better than Becky?"

"Never did care much for that honky," Torne grunted. "She was hard to get along with.

Always yelling at me, telling me something to do for her. You know. Like I was her slave or something."

"She said you wanted her," Karen told him.

"Never thought much about it," Torne said, averting his eyes. "Never thought much about any of Mr. Kingston's girls."

"Not even me, Torre?"

"Not even you, Missy." His big hand carefully pulled the front of her blouse over the tempting tits. "And you don't have to play up to me, either. I ain't gonna tell Mr. Kingston that you tried to run away. Don't want to see you get no beating. And don't want to see you put in the pink room."

The pink room. He had whetted her curiosity again. "Just where is the pink room, Torne?

Everybody talks about it, but nobody seems to have seen it."

"It's just a place that Mr. Kingston puts the girls when they're bad," Torne said.

"Is it really so horrible?"

"It all depends," Torne said. "Me, I wouldn't like it."

"Why?"

"Don't like pink and don't like going around naked all day," Torne said.

"He takes away the girl's clothes?"

"Better not talk about it anymore," Torne said. "I've done said too much already."

He carried her into the living room and lowered her feet to the carpet. He backed away from her almost cautiously, then turned and hurried down the hallway.

In spite of his stated disinterest in her, Karen had not missed the cock-bulge at the crotch of his pants. It almost frightened her. The huge hard-on Torne had achieved simply from carrying her to the house dwarfed anything she had ever seen on either Vincent or Denim.

She shuddered, and she wasn't sure whether the reaction was fear or anticipation.