Chapter 8
When Frieda regained consciousness the second time, she was beginning to wonder if she weren't reliving The Perils of Pauline. What had happened to her was something straight out of those 1930 hokey mystery-dramas...admittedly a little spiced up, of course. Blackmail, rifling through locked desks at night for illegal documents, being knocked out, recovering in a basement only to discover she was tied up, forced to submit to...ugh! She didn't want to think about it. Then drugged and dragged to...Frieda looked around. The room she was in was unfurnished. Apparently it served as a storeroom, since a dozen or so bags of Purina Dog Chow and a corrugated carton of rawhide bones were stacked against one wall. Frieda winced as she thought of those German shepherds in her basement. Her cunt still hurt from the bite of the first dog. She reached down to check out her twat. Except for some tenderness she seemed to be all right. Well, at least she had on her clothes. Max had done that much for her. Frieda was about to sit on the bare concrete floor...she had gotten used to them by now...when the door opened and a middle-aged woman, slightly heavyset and rather masculine in appearance, stuck her head inside.
"Take off your clothes," the woman said in a businesslike manner. "I'll be back in a few minutes to search you."
Search her! What were they looking for, and who was she? Take off her clothes? Again? This was becoming a habit. At least they were letting her do the unzipping. Frieda had begun to look for small favors.
In a few minutes Frieda heard a key being inserted in the storeroom door's lock; the door opened, and the middle-aged woman stepped inside.
"I'm Miss Hudson," she said. "Bend forward at the waist and spread those cheeks."
Frieda was a little slow to comply, despite her knowledge that she had no other choice than to cooperate. She was a little shy about exposing her ass to a perfect stranger. But she obeyed when the woman gave her a hard smack across the ass. The vibrations carried to her sore cunt and made her wince.
"Bend over!" Miss Hudson said again, more sharply than the first time.
Frieda reluctantly did as she was told. She blushed as she was forced to hold her asscheeks apart while Miss Hudson inserted a well-lubricated finger into her asshole. Frieda thought she was drilling for oil. Whatever could she be looking for?
"Good; nothing there," Miss Hudson said with obvious satisfaction. "Turn around, now." Frieda turned around and spread her thighs when Miss Hudson told her to. The older woman then inserted a finger in Frieda's cunt and felt around for God-only-knows-what. Frieda decided to ask.
"For Christ's sake," she said, almost giggling in :his grotesque inspection. Miss Hudson was tickling her. "What are you looking for?"
"Checking for weapons, drugs, jewels," she said mechanically.
"Didn't you see how I came in? How could I have stashed away anything like that?"
Miss Hudson didn't appear to like Frieda's tone of voice, and pinched her sore cuntlip. Frieda screamed out in pain, falling to her knees.
"Watch how you speak to me, or anybody else here. Mr. Berger's told me plenty about you. I'm going to have to watch you, I see that. I can get good use out of your body, but I'll have him take care of you if you give me any more lip or trouble. Understand?"
Frieda shook her head.
"You're a little sore down there, but I can use you for other things until you heal. Follow me; I'll take you to your room. It's in one of the storage buildings further down."
The room wasn't a room at all, but a garden shed with the roof gone. There were two straw mats at either end of the shed, obviously to sleep on. She glanced at the pile of shit in the corner and shuddered; that was probably why there was no roof...to let out the stink. So, this was what Max was reduced to. Bill and his squad must have busted his operation too quickly for him to have taken much with him. So, he had set up a kind of temporary place...but what a place! It was more for animals than for people.
Frieda was sitting naked on the straw mat opposite the door when an equally nude girl was catapulted into the shed by Miss Hudson. Frieda gasped in surprise to see someone brought down to the same level she was.
"Hi," the girl said shyly. There was something open, almost innocent about her smile.
"What's going on here. I can't understand..."
"Why you've been brought here? To take care of their customers...fucking, I think they call it."
Frieda didn't particularly care for the girl's almost flippant attitude. Then she looked more closely at the girl and noticed teeth marks on one of her asscheeks.
"What on earth happened to you?" she asked, pointing to the tiny bruises.
"Oh, that was just one of the customers. He has this thing for asses...he just can't get enough of tbem. Loves to stick his tongue up them, even eat any shit we can force out into his mouth if we can. These are the marks of his affection."
Frieda shuddered. What kind of place was this? Bill must have been right. Max was running a whorehouse for weird people, the kind of place no girl, no matter how hard up she was, would work willingly...unless she was strung out on drugs, or kidnapped, liked her. Frieda wondered how long it would take them to find her. Suddenly, she realized that no one knew where she was. Even if Tommy succeeded in showing Betty the ledger and, Betty took all the documents to Bill, there was no guarantee that they could find her. Max could skip town just like he did in L.A., and could hide out here...wherever that was...or run again. But then he'd have to do something with the girls here. Already, Frieda guessed that there were more than just the two of them. Her heart sank as she thought of the options available to them, whatever Max decided to do.
"Have you ever made it with a girl?" the girl asked breezily.
Frieda felt this was no time for modesty, so she nodded her head yes.
"Well, it shouldn't be too bad for you then. ne of the girls resist at first, but Miss Hudson has her way in the end...and front, if you know what I mean."
Some joke, Frieda thought.
"And sometimes they get us together to watch one girl gang-banged...sometimes for disciplinary reasons, sometimes for, for, well, I guess I don't know what for. Last week Claudia in the next shed got it in the mouth, the cunt and up the ass at the same time. It was bad, like a free-for-all. They were hitting her, biting, chewing her cunt, sinking teeth into her..."
"Stop it!" Frieda cried. "This is sick! I've got to get out of here," she said desperately, spinning around and jumping up to her feet. She nearly crashed into Miss Hudson who was standing at the door. Behind her were two men with riding crops. Frieda guessed what they were for, and backed up to the center of the shed.
"Boys, I think this one needs a little reminder that she's to respect the rules around here."
Frieda looked at the girl and saw her eyes fill with pity. "What rules?" Frieda pleaded as the men walked around Miss Hudson and approached her menacingly. One grabbed Frieda's left arm and twisted it behind her back while the other placed his crop gently across her tits. Frieda shuddered as she felt the cold leather sliding across her nipples. Then, he took the crop off and swacked her tits sharply. Frieda felt a numbing shock explode through her tits, and she screamed in fear and pain.
"That's enough," Miss Hudson ordered, and the men let Frieda fall to the floor. "Now for the rules. No talking after nine o'clock...you'll know what time that is when you see the outside lights go out. You're not to leave the shed for any reason...for a piss or a shit...until morning. And that's when you get a chance to eat. You'll learn the rest of the rules soon enough. Now, get to sleep!"
Frieda crept into her corner and curled up as best she could on her mat. It was cold. The chilly night air swept in, making her shiver. Well, at least no one will bother me until morning, she thought as she gradually lost consciousness.
Frieda was given breakfast at eight a.m. Bread and water, she said to herself as she looked at the mess handed to her by one of the guards, and those bastards left the damned bread in the water. Christ, this is incredible! she thought as she picked up the pasty, gooey substance from the water and tried to eat it. The bread dissolved into a pulpy mash before it got to her molars. On this they expect us to live? she wondered.
"Hurry up!" she heard Miss Hudson say. Frieda looked up and saw her standing two feet away from the open shed door. The same guards were with her, cracking their crops smartly against their black leather boots. "There's somebody waiting for you."
For her? Frieda figured that it couldn't be help. She'd better steel herself for the next ordeal, for an ordeal she was sure it would be.
"Eat it now. You won't get anything else until supper time."
Frieda felt that her big problem was to keep alive until Bill could get there with his squad and arrest this whole bunch. She was afraid that if she didn't obey or got sick, they might decided to do away with her. Death. She shuddered as she faced that possiblity. God only knew if help would come on time. If? She mustn't think that. When, not if. Frieda had to take a piss. She went outside and squatted on the grass. A young man, one of the guards, was standing only a few feet away, talking to one of his buddies. He grinned as he noticed her halfway through her pissing. Frieda blushed, looked down at the ground and saw the grass absorbing her piss, and looked around for a piece of paper or cloth to dab her crotch dry. Of course, there wasn't any. God help her when she had to take a shit!
Miss Hudson came back quickly with her two helpers. "Let's get moving. We can't keep him waiting."
Frieda wondered who "him" was as she was escorted by the three of them through the grounds to what appeared to be the main house of this enclave. Frieda felt that she'd better look around. Anything she saw she could testify to later on in court...if she made it!
She saw sheds along the path like hers. Most had their doors closed, but a few were open, some of the girls squatting by the side or near the rear in an attempt to have some privacy for a piss or shit. Miss Hudson and the men enjoyed stopping and watching the girls complete their pissing and shitting, taunting them with words or, worse, pushing them into the dirt or their own shit. Frieda couldn't be sure, but if there were two girls to a shed, there were at least forty girls here, all of them relatively young, pretty, and kept under strict control. She wondered where Max and Miss Hudson got them as she obediently followed the woman up the front stairs and down a long corridor, at the end of which was a large, sunny room. Its cheerfulness was a nasty bit of irony to what Frieda felt she'd be forced to perform there.
"Your honor?" Miss Hudson said politely. "This is the new girl I told you about. I think you'll like her. She just came in last night, and she's not hooked on any drugs or alcohol. She's clean in every respect."
Frieda felt that Miss Hudson was talking about a shipment of cars...certainly not about a human being, and who was "your honor"? A judge? Bill said that Max catered to a kinky clientele, but obviously they were well-heeled too. This one was a white-haired man, dignified-looking, who sat in a leather easy chair facing her. He smiled at her kindly. Maybe he wouldn't ask her to do anything too repulsive.
"Blow me, bitch," he said softly, still smiling. For a second, Frieda couldn't believe her ears.
Could that respectable-looking old man sitting there still smiling at me have said that? She looked at him and saw that he was groping himself.
"I'm telling you again to give me a blowjob."
Frieda still stood there like an idiot, refusing to move. Miss Hudson shifted position uneasily but did nothing.
"Come over here and unzip me, bitch!" The judge wasn't smiling any longer, and the softness had disappeared from his voice.
"No." Her voice was quiet, but firm.
"Blow me!"
"Fuck yourself!" she said loudly. God only knew she was making it worse for herself, but Frieda couldn't help it. She had had enough of being raped by men, by women, by dildos, by dogs. She had to put her foot down somewhere.
The judge gasped and looked inquiringly at Miss Hudson. "I thought you said she'd cooperate?"
"She will," Miss Hudson said acidly, signaling her two guards to hit Frieda. Instinctively she put up her hands to protect her tits, but they had other plans. Miss Hudson and one of the guards held her while the other moved around behind her and shoved his riding crop up her ass.
I can take it, she said to herself, but the guard shoved it deeper and deeper until Frieda was afraid that it would tear apart her intestines.
"All right!" she screamed, pitching forward in pain.
"Blow me," the judge said again calmly. He had unzipped his trousers, and a long but shriveled cock, surrounded by straggly tufts of white hairs, dangled from his opened fly.
"I, uh, I..." Frieda saw one of the guards walking op to her again, and walked slowly toward the naked cock.
"On your knees," the judge commanded when she was a few feet from him. "I want you to crawl to me the rest of the way. And swing your titties. I want to see your titties hanging, swinging like a cow's tits when you come to me."
Frieda took one look at Miss Hudson, who was fingering one of the guard's riding crops menacingly. She decided that it would be wiser to obey. Really, what choice did she have?
God, what complete obscenity! The judge had taken off his shoes, and when she was directly in front of his chair he ordered her to kiss his feet.
"First the socks, then take them off with your teeth and kiss the skin."
Frieda almost retched in disgust as she did as she was told, puckering her lips against the smelly, sweaty cotton material that she was sure he'd purposely dirtied for this.
"Now, take them off with your teeth."
That was something she never learned in college. But at least the socks had no elastic bands and were relatively low. She did her best, pulling the rim down over the ankle, although she had to crouch to the floor on her elbows to get the material around the ball of his foot. She felt her nipples brush against the cold wood of the floor as she pulled the sock over the arch to the toes.
Frieda did the same with the other foot, then started kissing the naked foot gingerly.
"Now the other foot," he commanded.
For what seemed like hours she struggled with the left sock, finally tugging it off with her teeth and smothering that foot with kisses.
"Now, rub my feet between yours tits. I want to feel that skin rubbing across my ankles," he cooed, throwing his head back.
Well, it's better than kissing them, she thought as she propped his feet on her thighs, rolling her big tits up and over, around and around his twitching feet.
But the worst was yet to come, she realized, as he told her to get into a kneeling position. She stared at his cock, which had swollen into semirigidity as she had sucked his toes and rubbed his ankles with her tits. Frieda winced. I've got to suck that withered, sick old thing? Christ, what an ugly cock!
The judge nodded majestically to his prick. Frieda shuddered and bent forward. It was uncircumcised and a leathery sheath of skin covered most of the knob, and Christ, didn't he ever wash it? It smelled of old piss and stale cum and God only knew what! She nearly retched into his lap, but knew that she'd have to perform if she was going to live and try to find a way out of there.
Frieda took the prick in her right hand and pinched it gently. She glanced up at the judge; he was already smiling, propelled in another world while she knelt there. Holding the cock between two fingers of her right hand, she pushed the foreskin back with the thumb and index finger of her left. She felt as if she were skinning some repulsive snake, and she gagged at the thought.
"What's the problem?" he said, looking down severely at her.
She glanced at Miss Hudson, who looked as if she were about to intervene.
"Nothing, nothing," Frieda said quickly. The cockhead was ruddy and glistening with something, maybe sweat; she didn't particularly like the idea of putting it in her mouth, but she had already surrendered, and she certainly didn't have much choice now.
Lips open, teeth apart, tongue poised for action. She moved forward, her mouth sliding over the cockhead, closing around it, lips tightening and applying suction, her lower teeth digging gently into his cock's underside at its most sensitive spot right behind the knob.
"Aaaaaah!" the judge moaned.
A little more suction. A droplet of something, probably cum, spilled from the cockhead's piss-slit and landed on her tongue where she could taste it. She opened her mouth wider, moving the right hand farther back on the cock. She pushed forward with her mouth, swallowing as much of the prick as possible, three inches, four inches, five inches. Oh God! Her lips were against his sweaty groin!
His cock was becoming rigid now, and its stiff length was pressing against the roof of her mouth. She had to suck harder, run her right hand along the spit-slicked trail on his cock with her mouth to make him cum quicker. Frieda didn't know how much longer she could take this before she gagged.
She let a finger slide along the perineum toward his asshole to make him feel more excited, to hurry that bastard up, to get his jism out of his balls and onto her tongue so that she could get that withered prick out of her mouth.
Frieda moved her left hand into action now. Her fingers dug between his asscheeks while the fingers of her right hand moved back to his balls and stroked for a minute before wandering back up to the base of the cock so that she could finger and suck his cock at the same time.
The judge was groaning loudly now. He liked it, all right. Frieda sucked hard, as hard as she could, the sound of squishing filling the sunny room as her head bobbed back and forth faster and faster. She pushed the foreskin back with her lips or with the tip of her tongue, occasionally changing her stroke until, oh God, she could feel his ass rising off the chair. She could tell that his muscles were stiffening and his breath was coming in short wheezes and now. He was digging his fingernails into her scalp and slamming his cock hard against the back of her throat and crying out in agony.
She felt it spatter against the back of her throat.
Cum, spurt after spurt of it oozed onto Frieda's tongue. Finally he slowed down as his cock quit spurting. Frieda breathed a sigh of relief.
She pulled back, letting the judge's softening cock fall from her lips. She glanced at his face and saw how he was grinning stupidly. She spat the mingled saliva and cum onto the hardwood floor and grabbed her stomach just in time to keep from vomiting.
The judge scratched his left ear and looked down at Frieda, who was still kneeling at his feet. He laughed softly. "I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did."
Frieda wanted to say something, but decided that under the circumstances it was unwise.
The judge nodded to Miss Hudson. "Ann will take you away now," he said in a businesslike tone. The blowjob that had sickened her was just another piece of business for him. She wondered how much he had to pay for her little service.
Frieda and Miss Hudson were almost out the door when she heard the judge call out: "You're the best one I've had so far. I'll be sure to ask for you next week."
"If she's still around, your honor," Miss Hudson said meaningfully. Frieda looked up and saw the woman smiling at her. She guessed that Max had left instructions as to what was to be done with her. The two guards had to support her the rest of ihe way back to the shed.