Chapter 10
A Sadistic Overture
Most of us can, I suppose, remember some perfect day in our lives-some ideal period when life seemed almost unbearably sweet. There was no friction. Every moment was superb. Well, in my own memory that Friday afternoon with Rebecca and Janet stands out as such. I learned about love. I learned about pain.
Janet, as I've said, initiated the first dalliance. But I didn't mind. I felt blissfully patient, and Rebecca's mouth offered itself as an exciting and pleasurable preliminary. I kissed her. A light, lip-teasing kiss. She groaned slightly.
"Lick my face, Doris," she whispered urgently. "Everywhere! My eyes, my nose, my cheeks! I love being licked."
And so, with the tip of my tongue, I traced the lines of her cheeks and the hollows of her eyes and lingered long and ardently over her lips, forcing them apart with my tongue and sliding it in and out of her mouth slowly, sinuously. Her eyelids were faintly salty and her lips had the honeyed fragrance of ripe peaches. She moaned and sighed and, though she was probably responding more to Janet's kiss than to mine, I felt a surging acceleration of pleasure in knowing that she was pleased and happy and that I had evoked (at least partly) those ecstatic moans and sighs. Pulling her lower lip into my mouth I chewed on it and sucked on it; then up to her nose, biting it gently, sucking it greedily; then her ears, kissing their lobes, biting them, reeming them out with my tongue. I made love to her face! I licked every inch of it, gently, then hard, then hungrily, savagely. Nibbling down her chin I began to take small vicious nips at her throat. She seemed to like that. She put her hand to my head and caressed and stroked it as if I were a pet, an animal, a kitten. "You, now, Doris.
Change places with Janet. I want you to kiss me, Doris. There."
"Oh, yes, yes," I heard my terse reply, and it was the voice of an utter stranger.
We traded places. Janet, as she rose, was smiling that silly smile one sees on the lacuna faces of idiots. "Like a pot of honey," she murmured, and then I was out of ear-shot; indeed I was out of everything save the mindless bliss that my inchoate kiss engendered. Thigh enveloped, I was unable to resist a sort of gurgling cry of victory as lip met lip in that most arcane of fleshly contacts. "There" I was. Finally. I'd made it. I'd arrived. I nestled in and cooed like a homing-pigeon. Home. In labyrinthine quarters. Soft throbbing assailed me and I felt the gentlest most unaggressive tenderness that I've ever felt in my life. The words of a rather infamous Lesbian's poem wafted through my mind zepher-like:
The cradle of my woman's thighs, The lambent flame that lights her eyes, These attributes though fine and fair, Are secondary when I'm ... there. Her sighs, her flow, her delta's flare, Where I panting lay my head to rest, Are sweet and taunting, wild and rare. And down again to lordly sin To plumb the riches of that nest To seek the ravings of the blest. I was in no-man's-land and I traveled with the light-footed buoyancy of the contrite prodigal. I luxuriated like a sybarite. A ravenous gourmand I wallowed willfully and with the joyous zest of fulfilled yearning; my delights the delicious ones that are detonated by a realized desideration. The land of milk and honey. The scented undergrowth where dire and deadly vapors rose like steam from hot pavements and where melifluous mucilage libated like the lascivious sweats of a succubus. Excuse my poesy. But "tongue-tied" as I was then, my memories of that tryst demand I use mauve words. And then, as she began to speak to me (like an angel dropping words of encouragement to a lowly outcast), I felt that I was receiving the fondest compliment of my life (but I wondered why she didn't throw at least a crumb to Janet who, above me, was nibbling at Rebecca's breasts).
"You love your work, Doris. I can tell. Believe me, you're an artist. You were born to kiss. And you've been much on my mind, Doris. And I've been on yours. I can tell. That's good. We'll have adventures, you and I. We'll explore every devious path and try every so called perversion before I leave. Oh! Oh, yes, Doris! I love it when you do that. Bite a little. Yes. Oh, yes! No, Janet. Not you. Don't bite. My nipples are tender. Oh, yes, That's nice. You're both terribly sweet."
My ears began to ring and I was beginning to pant so hard that I became a bit uncomfortable. I couldn't seem to get sufficient air. Suddenly my head began to whirl and I felt drained of strength; I felt myself falling backwards. I reached for her thighs but my hands slipped. I felt the helpless lassitude and stupid weakness that one feels after a prolonged bout of laughter. The next thing I knew I was on my back and Rebecca and Janet were peering anxiously down at me. I knew I'd blacked-out for a second or two.
"Are you okay, Doris?" Janet was repeating solicitously. I nodded and sucked in several great draughts of air and my strength returned.
"You darling!" Rebecca's eyes were wide with reverence. "You let me nearly smother you! Are you sure you're all right now?"
"Yes," I said, "I'm fine."
"Good," she nodded. "Just take it easy for awhile. Relax. I'll come down there and ... do you."
An involuntary moan escaped my lips when I felt that first feather-touch of hers. The muscles in my buttocks and thighs contracted and I rolled my head from side to side like one undergoing some exquisite form of torture. And for a few tense moments I actually was in pain. The realization of what she was doing combined with the first tenuous touch of her lips and sort of turned me inside out. It was as if every nerve-end in my body had congested there and they were as over-sensitized as the petals of some fantastically fragile flower. I doubt if she was there more than half a minute before I felt the first faint pulsing of pinnacle. And from those first faint stabs to the gigantic jolts of journey's end was a trip of perhaps a mere ten seconds.
But during that evanescent span I experienced a lifetime of sensation! Every erogenous zone in my geography was tickled by ten-thousand feathers and my very teeth gnashed together in the biting, snapping convulsions where madness and sanity coalesce in blind brotherhood.
I screamed. I remember Janet's look of fear and resentment as I rent the air with my siren-shrill squeals of ineffable torment and joy. She looked at me as a woman or a child looks at a slimy reptile or as a prejudiced southerner looks at a Negro who has just cursed him obscenely or like one who has just bitten deeply into an apple and found it to be rotten and wormy to the core. I flinched inwardly.
"Good lord, Doris! The neighbors! They'll think someone's being murdered!" she cried down at me, frowning deeply.
"I'm sorry, Janet," I hissed. Then I closed my eyes and silently enjoyed my slowly ebbing spasms and I eased down into those soft after-pleasures of finality and relief.
As the last little twitches died away I opened my eyes in surprise and chagrin to see that Janet was crying. She was standing there over us, sobbing, and tears were flowing down the deep lines in her cheeks. She appeared dreadfully agitated.
"What's wrong, Janet?" I asked, pushing gently at Rebecca's shoulders so that I could rise.
It flashed through my mind that she was probably hurt or jealous; most likely because of Rebecca's obvious preference for me. But in the next few seconds she dispelled that doubt and it was my turn to look at her with vast surprise and dismay.
"It's because of what I want you to do. You'll both hate me for it," she shrugged, and then loosed several heart-broken sobs.
I had risen; so had Rebecca. I glanced at Rebecca and was further amazed to see that she was smiling. "I know what Janet wants," she said. "She wants us to spank her. Right, Janet?"
Janet's tear-filled eyes opened wide. "How'd you know that, Rebecca?" she asked.
Rebecca shrugged and smiled. "I could tell by your look when I was flattering Doris. You enjoyed being left out. You like being hurt, Janet. That's why you don't mind having me stay with you. You'd enjoy it if John made love to me in front of you. In short, Janet ... you're somewhat of a masochist. Oh, don't get me wrong. I approve. I myself hate being hurt ... but I do love to hurt others. I'd love to spank you, Janet."
To say that I was confused and astonished is putting it lightly. I had known Janet for nearly five years, and I'd certainly never suspected that she'd enjoy being-mistreated. And now-to learn that Rebecca (who'd said she hated force or violence) derived pleasure from punishing someone ... it was just too much to absorb all at once. I was more than a little shocked.
"You're both kidding, aren't you? I ... mean ... neither of you really like that sort of thing;" I looked at them, from one to the other.
Janet's face was beet-red. She nodded slowly and said, "Yes. I can't help it. I like to be spanked. John does it for me now and then. But ... I'm sure I'd enjoy it more from a woman."
I looked at Rebecca. "And you actually get a kick out of ... hurting people?"
She laughed. "Not just anyone," she said. "I need to sense that the other person wants me to.
You, for instance, Doris. You'd hate being spanked or hurt by any form of sadism. But somehow I've got this sneaking hunch that you'd enjoy helping me spank Janet right now."
"No," I replied. "I wouldn't. I'm sure I wouldn't."
Rebecca suddenly seemed to be regarding me with an almost supercilious distaste and irony. I shivered and looked away from her. She snorted. "How can you be so sure, Doris? What makes you think you really know yourself? None of us do, believe me. We're too close to ourselves to be objective. We're full of preconceived ideas about ourselves that are usually completely divorced from the real truth. I know you, Doris. I've met you before in other women. like I've said before ... every woman has a little sadism in her. You're a tease, Doris. Just like I am. The way you ... kissed me awhile ago ... I could've never made it and you knew it. You nearly drove me crazy, Doris. Oh, sure, it was good. It was fabulous! But it was a form of pure torture. Pure sadism." She paused and shrugged, then went on. "But that's okay, Doris. You'll see. Just watch me while I oblige Janet. Perhaps you'll change your mind, Doris. Come on, Janet. I'm going to give you a damned good spanking. I know that's what you want. You're panting for it. And I'm just the gal to give it to you. Come to mama," she beckoned to Janet, and I was reminded of the fable of the spider and the fly. (But what a ravishing spider! And what fun it had been being tangled in her web.)
CHAPTER ll
Nudist Perfection
My thoughts were conflicting as Rebecca sat down and Janet lowered herself like an overgrown child across her lap. I was, as I've said, shocked to learn that the two of them could derive enjoyment from so seemingly brutal an act. But the fact that they appeared so pleased and anxious to begin the thing (for "thing" it was to me then) confused me more than it shocked me. What possible pleasure could one get from either absorbing or administrating pain? (I was, of course, terribly naive at that time.) But I learned. Very soon.
Janet's plump ass looked as vulnerable and soft as two pink balloons; she wriggled restlessly and then, in a voice I scarcely recognized, cried, "Swat me, Rebecca! Hurry! Spank me hard!"
Rebecca's usually warm eyes had grown cold as gems. Her mouth, I noticed with a twinge, was pulled grotesquely awry. She looked savage, mean, vengeful. But it came to me on the instant that I had never seen her look quite so much in character before. It was as if savagery and viciousness were her normal nature and that now, for the first time, I was seeing her fly her real colors. She was breathtakingly beautiful! That glint in her eyes lent an authority to her features and enhanced them (a look that was somewhat missing in her usual rather pliant, half-smile of acquiescence).
Rebecca raised one hand high to strike the first blow; Janet gasped and lifted her bottom as if to shorten the distance. Down came Rebecca's open hand! Crack! And the swat brought an immediate red flush to the cheek she'd hit. Janet loosed a growling moan from between clenched teeth and I saw a rippling spasm pass over that spanked rotundity. Crack! Crack! Wack! Three more blows fell, reminding me of the sounds a large book makes when it's closed hard in anger. And with each blow Janet jerked and moaned like a tormented cat.
On and on it went. Rebecca's hand would rise, hesitate for a moment, then come down in a blurred arch and make a resounding smack, and I would shudder and Janet would moan and Rebecca's eyes would glitter like a cat's in the dark and her mouth would twist in a savage snarl. It was madness! But a greater madness was soon to follow.
Suddenly Rebecca stopped. Both hands resting on Janet's sorely abused buttocks, panting heavily, she looked at me and said, "Does this really sicken you, Doris? Come, tell us the truth. Admit you'd like to get in some swats of your own. Come on. I'm sure Janet won't mind turning the other cheek. Try a whack or two, Doris."
"Well, I ... don't know, Rebecca. I ... I just don't know," I stammered foolishly and looked down at my hands.
"Yes you do, Doris. You're lying to us and to yourself. Come on. Just a little swat or two. I know you'll get the surprise of your life if you do. Be a sport."
"Yes you do, Doris. You're lying to us and to yourself. Come on. Just a little swat or two. I know you'll get the surprise of your life if you do. Be a sport."
I wanted to. And Rebecca knew it, too. A strange welling feeling had gradually set in as I had watched Rebecca's flailing hand. I had begun to feel that fearful excitement that you feel as a kid before jumping off something high on a dare. I'd recognized the feeling as a form of passion (or lust). But it was a weird sort of passion and it scared you as much as it pleased you. It tempted and frightened at the same time.
"Go ahead, Doris," Janet spoke up. "I'd love it if you would. Oh, please, kid. I'd do it for you if you asked me. Go ahead. Spank me, Doris! You'll be doing me a favor, believe me. Just try it once, please."
I walked up to them and Rebecca obligingly removed her hands. "Give it to her, Doris," she urged. "A nice swift swat. You won't be sorry."
I looked down at those upturned cheeks and saw how red and welted they were and a feeling of anxious pleasure surged through me. I knew she was in pain. Those raised welts must've stung like hell. But by some mysterious twist the knowledge and sight of those hurts combined to bring me joy and pleasure. My forehead felt cool and clammy with perspiration; my hands (seemingly of their own volition) opened and closed tensely, slowly. My throat became dry. I bent over slightly, raised my right hand, hesitated, then brought it down viciously against the reddest of Janet's quivering cheeks. Crack! The sound and the feeling of impact were one and the strangest sort of thrill went vibrating up and down my entire length. (I literally felt it all the way down to my toes.) It was sort of like the chill one feels after a bad scare, except that it left me feeling strong and anxious instead of weak and anxious. And in its wake there followed an emptiness that evoked a powerful hunger to feel it again.
"That's it, Doris!" Rebecca exclaimed triumphantly. "Now again! Give her hell! That's what she wants!"
Janet twisted her head and looked up at me; her eyes were bloodshot with repressed tears but she smiled and said, "That felt so good, Doris. Go ahead, now. Please, doll. Beat me. Give me all you've got."
"I'll help you, Doris," Rebecca said. "Come on, we'll alternate swats."
And so it was that a moment later I was whaling away at the already terribly bruised and lacerated bottom of my best friend. And my neighbor. (An energetic example of "neighborly love" in action.) And with each palm-stinging swat that strange thrill seemed to permeate my own flesh with every increasing intensity and pleasure. Janet was groaning loudly; you could hear pain and pleasure in the tone of it. Rebecca's hand, I noticed, was as red and raw as Janet's bottom. And my own hand was beginning to burn painfully. I ignored it though. Any pain was paltry compared to the sweet sweats of pleasure that my action evoked. And then, quite suddenly, I felt the beginning ticklings of peak. I reached for it by spanking harder and faster, and when I made it both Janet and Rebecca seemed excited beyond measure; they joined me, and the three of us snorted and squealed and groaned and hissed in an event that was precipitated entirely through the giving and taking of pain. And so acute were my own tweakings that my spanking arm went limp and I leaned over and plastered my mouth against Rebecca's. It was an electric kiss, that one. Our tongues fluttered together like the wings of a dying moth as we gibbered our climatic glee into each other's mouths..
Finally our kiss broke and I pulled away and straightened. Janet was still trembling and sighing; her bottom looked like raw hamburger. Rebecca smiled up at me and said, "You really got 'em, didn't you, Doris?"
"Yes." I said, feeling suddenly a bit uncomfortable. Somehow it was a little embarrassing to have achieved satisfaction in such a way. I wondered if it proved anything-that I had always been some sort of pervert but didn't know it? Rebecca read my thoughts.
"I know what you're thinking, Doris. And it isn't true. I mean you're not abnormal. You're just highly sexed, a bisexual, and Janet and I brought out your latent sadism. like I said though, Doris. Everyone has sadistic impulses at times. But it's Janet here who's really unique. There aren't nearly as many who like to be hurt."
"Oh, damn I'm sore!" Janet exclaimed as she slowly rose from Rebecca's lap.
We laughed at her. She looked so funny standing there rubbing her Ibottom: like an overgrown baby.
Not bothering to dress, I mixed us all another drink and we sat and talked. It was very pleasant to be sitting there that way. There was no tension or pretense. I suddenly understood the nudist claim that nudism increases rapport and the spirit of togetherness.
I was sitting across from Rebecca and Janet and I couldn't help noticing how much lovelier Rebecca's legs and breasts were than Janet's. Indeed, Rebecca's only imperfection was her voice-it grated too much and thereby lost a good deal of its feminine quality. I realized, though, as I let my eyes sort of drift over her delicious curves, that I was probably exaggerating everything through obsession. (No one could actually be as perfect as Rebecca seemed to me.)
But right then, oddly enough, Rebecca paid me a compliment.
"Your legs are marvelous, Doris. I've never seen legs that long have such lovely curves. They're perfectly dreamy."
"Aren't they something?" Janet spoke up. "Doris tends to underrate herself, Rebecca. John's always telling me how he thinks her legs are so sexy."
"Speaking of John," Rebecca began. "I'm all for us getting together with both him and Charles for an evening of ... you know ... kicks. You girls are fine ... but I'm sure you'll agree that we could think up all kinds of interesting fun and games if the five of us got together."
"Swell!" Janet exclaimed. "But give me a couple days to get rid of my soreness. Then I'll be raring to go. How about you, Doris. You're all for it, aren't you?"
"Me? Oh, sure. Of course I am. Sounds great. I'm ready anytime." I smiled and nodded emphatically.
But was I really ready? I asked myself. Somehow the idea of sharing Rebecca with three others didn't appeal to me. It wasn't so bad with just Janet. But with Charles and John there would be (inevitably) that selfish masculine element to contend with. Before my eyes she would be the willing victim of that rutting selfishness: moaning and writhing beneath one of the other of them in an act that would exclude me completely. It had been fun, a wild scene, that first night with just the four of us-it had lent spice to what was becoming somewhat of a dull bedroom routine with Charles. But now, now that Rebecca had entered the picture, I wasn't at all sure that I'd enjoy such a free-for-all romp.
Alone with her I'd reign supreme, And spill my treasure trove of love.
We'd kiss away the hours 'til'
What's down below would rise above.
Our thighs entwined we'd lie and be
Alone through all eternity.
Just me and she ... Rebecca.