Chapter 8
Linda strolled up Bond Street. On Sam's advice she had dressed in a summer frock to avoid looking common or over-sexy. Her red hair fell almost down to her shoulders, the dress fitted her closely enough for her bottom to round outward through it as she walked, the soft, white flesh of her breasts visible above the square-cut low neck. She looked young, virginal almost, fresh and pretty.
Everything had gone well, except that now she was so nervous that her legs felt weak as she walked.
Betty had played her role and her mother and father had shown an indifference which was more or less normal. She had simply told
Betty she was going to spend the night with Sam and get high. Betty had still been treating her as if she was a hard case and she hadn't dared tell her the real motive for her night out in case she made a fuss.
She and Sam had come in on the Tube. She'd insisted he come with her to make her feel easier and he hadn't taken much persuading with his eagerness to see her safely paired and making the money they needed. He had become quite normal now that there was hope and Linda's nervousness had pushed her need slightly from the foreground of her consciousness.
There were not many strollers in the long street. She walked slowly, occasionally glancing around to see that Sam was still wandering along a couple of hundred yards behind her.
One or two women out with dogs stared at her curiously and passed on. They were the regulars, but she looked so fresh they failed to recognize competition.
She saw their lack of recognition and wondered if men would realize what she was up to. At the thought that they might not, that she might not get picked up, the need for horse reasserted itself over her nervousness and she stepped into a doorway and stood looking out.
After a few minutes when nothing startling happened, she resumed her leisurely stroll.
She had only walked up the street once and was turning back when she realized that a man on the opposite side of the road was watching her in the glass front of a window, his back toward her. It was clear by the fixedness of his stance.
Linda glanced nervously away and then looked back cautiously as she drew level. He was of medium height and looked elderly. He wore a light overcoat in spite of the warm weather. She noticed that his walking stick had a silver handle and then she was past and walking slowly away from him. Sam had turned and was retreating in front of her.
She glanced back after several yards and saw the man staring openly across at her. He looked ugly even from that distance. Her heart began to beat madly and she felt a hot flush rise in her throat. If only Sam had had a bit of horse, she thought desperately, just a tiny little bit to make it easier. It was worse than when her stepfather had been alone in the house with her.
Suddenly afraid, she walked on without looking back. When eventually she did so he had turned away and was looking in another window.
Again she underwent a sudden and complete reversal of feeling. The hope for horse slipped away. She saw it receding in the uninterested back of the man.
With quick decision she stopped outside a doorway and faced the street, staring back in his direction.
After a few seconds he turned, saw her and advanced calmly down the street with his eyes on her. He was elderly. The thought of having to spend the night in bed with an old man, skinny and smelling of age filled her with disgust.
She retreated into the doorway which cut back deeply between the two sides of the shop. Immediately she felt trapped, as if she was in a cave but she was too petrified to move, feeling she would break into a run if she did. She stood, staring at the entrance illuminated by a street lamp, terrified and trapped. Here she was out of Sam's sight; the man would trap her. And even as the thought clouded in her head, his shadow fell across the doorway and he was there, blocking off all hope for escape.
He came towards her and she waited for him, staring at him, breast frozen.
His face in the dim light was heavily jowled and wrinkled. It looked yellow. His eyes were bright as they fixed her, pinning her still until he reached her.
"You're very young."
His first words filled her with apprehension. They were calm, confident, made her feel a very small girl. She wondered if he were a police inspector in disguise and the thought brought her to her senses, reminded her of her role, her need.
"What of it?" She felt she should not have spoken like that immediately after the words were out. If he were a prospective client, her tone would hardly endear her to him.
"Sorry if I offended you, my dear. It was really a compliment; you're in such superb contrast to most of the slack, aging ladies in this street although they do their best and put on airs of youth."
Now he was close up to her and she could see him more clearly. He was ugly. His lips were thin and hard, his nose big and covered with tiny red lines, hairs dropped blackly from the nostrils, flesh hung from the drooping line of his chin, the hair swept scantily from his narrow forehead trying vainly to cover the near baldness of his head.
Yet his eyes, like his voice, contained a power of command, a gleaming, magnetic confidence which made it difficult to keep her voice steady and cool when she answered him. She wished she had the experience of the aging ladies of whom he spoke.
His eyes were taking her in, prying, in an insolent agedness, into her young flesh.
"I've never seen you before," he went on. "But, I forgot, you dislike questions."
He grinned at her and the grin revealed discolored teeth and she caught a whiff of whisky. She remained silent, not knowing what to say, wishing Sam would pass the doorway.
"Well would you like to come home with me?" he said after a silence in which he had stared at her with amusement, as if torturing her by withholding food.
With a flood of relief she saw Sam walk slowly into view on the opposite side of the street, peer into the doorway and then turn to look in a window.
"That depends."
"Depends on what my dear: my copulative capabilities or the size of my bank balance?" He laughed mirthlessly.
"How would 30 pounds be?"
Linda fought hard to hide her astonishment and her feeling of triumph. Was he serious? The sum was immense.
"All right," she agreed after a moment's mysterious hesitation.
The man smiled and showed his brown teeth again.
"I had better explain," he added, "that there are three of us, myself and two companions and we are not completely normal in our desires."
Linda looked at him with a sinking chill. Thirty pounds and now it was going to be spoiled by half a dozen attached strings. It would have been bad enough just with the one. Her stomach turned over with the thought of three of them messing her about and God knows what they wanted to do to her.
"What do you want me to do?" she asked, and, as if to add to her case, "I'm used to normal activity."
"Well my dear, we're not as young as we were and we take a certain amount of arousing. We also hate each other, really, deep down, although we've been living together for years and we like to see the others suffer. My friend M, for instance,-likes to be tied up and tickled with a feather. You can start with his feet and work upwards. It becomes excruciating for him but it gives G and myself great pleasure to see him undergo such discomfort."
Linda stared at him as if he were a lunatic. She recollected herself and let her eyes wander to see that Sam was still there. She'd heard of these strange perverts. Sometimes, Sam had told her, they didn't even want to fuck, or they came before they got down to it and then couldn't raise the energy for a second time. Easy money. But it made her feel uncomfortably out of her depth. She didn't know quite what would be expected of her and she was not sure that she believed the old man.
"Of course, if you think it's a little out of your normal routine, I can always call on Elsa down the street here," he went on suavely. "In fact, she rather expects it as a duty. She'd be quite annoyed if she knew someone else were usurping her place."
Linda felt slightly reassured, but she decided to let a demand of her own weigh the balance for her after all there were three of them.
"I'll come with you for forty." She held her breath afterwards, wondering at her daring, feeling immediately that she had made an outrageous demand.
"Well, really, I should have thought thirty was extremely reasonable." He was smiling still and she was about to say that she had been joking, suddenly afraid to lose thirty, three times as much as she'd hoped after all, when he added:
"But of course, youth; so hard and demanding nowadays. Youth running the roost. All right, we'll say forty."
Linda's eyes gleamed with triumph. Forty pounds! She'd never imagined such a sum before. She wondered if she could have asked for fifty and got it.
"Come on then, my dear. Let's get a taxi."
Sam was still staring into the window as they came out of the doorway, an incongruous couple, looking like grandfather and granddaughter with an incomprehensible change in hereditary looks.
Linda glanced at Sam. She was churned up inside from the thought of the money and the strange activities it seemed she would have to indulge in. But as Sam straightened and turned she managed to give him a wink. He looked up and down and then strolled off in the opposite direction.
"I do believe I just managed to rescue you from a wolf across the road," her companion chuckled.
By the time they had picked up a taxi, Sam was out of sight and Linda felt very afraid, as if she was three years old and left in a new kindergarten with hostile strangers.
In the back of the taxi the man talked to her in a smooth, confident fashion and eventually put his hand on her knee as if testing it, and moved it up her thigh.
She suffocated her disgust and let his bony fingers travel up to the top of her thigh where it creased into her hips. To her surprise he then released her and looked out of the window at the lights and traffic, humming to himself. She felt like a slave who had been tested and found satisfactory.
She found herself quite unable to talk to him. She wished again that she had the confident savoir-faire of the professional prostitute. Sam had told her to be nice, to talk, to let them see that she was something out of the usual run, but she felt simply like a frightened little girl who wanted the whole thing to be over.
She even thought of running away when the taxi stopped, but she knew she wouldn't because of the money. She would reluctantly go right on with it. In twelve hours' time it would be over. The thought of the horse would keep her going.
The taxi put them down in Mayfair and he let them into a smart mews flat. The luxury, the evidence of money, added to her greed she wished she had demanded more but added also to her fear. Where there was this money and luxury there was bound to be power. She felt helpless beside it.
He left his coat on a stand in the large vestibule and led her down a short, broad corridor at the end of which a huge, oak double door blocked the way.
"Wait here a minute, will you?" he said and slipped through the doors out of sight.
I could run now, Linda thought, left startlingly alone. If only Betty had been with her to go through the same experience.
She brushed her dress straight over her hips and looked at herself in a long mirror beside the coat stand. Her eyes looked a little dull, but apart from that she was probably the most attractive thing this old man had ever picked up. She turned, looking over her shoulder at her back view, noting the buttocks straining against the tautened dress. The thought that the old man and his companions would soon be looking at, have their hands on God, maybe even their pricks up that bottom filled her with nausea. She glanced again at the door through which she could still escape but then a voice behind her was saying: "Come this way."
She walked through the double doors after the man, who had changed into a dressing gown.
Inside the big room two men were sitting, also in dressing gowns in big armchairs. A fire was blazing in an old-fashioned fireplace in spite of the summer warmth.
She took in these few details only, for her eyes were drawn to the other two men. They too were elderly and were just as ugly as the man who had picked her up.
One of them was small and bony with weak eyes with traces of a yellow mucus liquid in the corners and weak, vicious features; the other was a gross, fat-faced individual in a green smoking jacket and bow tie to match. He looked utterly debauched and slightly younger than the other two. His thick lips pouted pensively at the young girl who stood uncertainly in the doorway. When he spoke it was with a husky, consumptive voice.
"What a dainty little morsel H, I thought you'd be bringing Elsa."
The man addressed as H, who had picked her up, turned to her and indicated the other two men. "My friends," he explained, "G and M." He indicated first the fat man in the green smoking jacket and then the small one with the weak face.
"And what may we call you, sweet maid?" asked G, a supercilious pretense at gallantry.
Linda searched for her voice. She felt sick.
"Linda," she said, completely unable to think of another name.
"B'linda Blue-eyes," G said airily. His eyes were hard as he looked at her. She could see his one thought was the use to which she was to be put. In spite of his mocking familiarity, she was a piece of putty, no more, as far as he was concerned.
The vicious-featured man in the chair hadn't uttered a word. He simply stared at her with eyes which, despite their appearance of weakness, never faltered.
"Come in my dear, come in," H invited her. "You're soon going to know us very well. Don't be shy."
He addressed the other two.
"She really seems remarkably indifferent to the sophistication of her profession," he said with a grin. "Tell me my dear, are you a virgin?" They all guffawed at his joke.
Linda hated them and their tone of mockery. She wished they would get on with whatever they wanted and get it over with.
The gross man suddenly pulled the front of his dressing gown open and came towards her. He flopped his long, lank penis in front of her.
"You see this B'linda Blue-eyes. Well, like those of my friends, it's half impotent. It takes a lot of arousing and, as you can see it's really worth the trouble."
He held it in his hand towards her.
"Feel it," he insisted. "Isn't it a fine thing? And once it's up, ah? then it's almost as long again and a great thing to have shoved in you."
Linda had obediently taken the long, limp flesh. It had thickened, stiffened slightly in her hand and then remained at a half-erect stage.
"And look at those testicles." He opened his dressing gown farther, revealing a great mass of coarse black hair covering his belly in a forest. His belly was like a humped hill with thick black scrub.
"You must admit they're magnificent," he went on. "I sometimes think it's their weight which prevents my phallus from leaping to attention."
The other two laughed and he glanced around at them.
"But as H said, you mustn't be shy. We want to see whether you can challenge us in excellence. I'm sure you have a pretty little hole, pretty as they come."
They all laughed again and Linda felt terribly helpless against them. She was afraid to speak, afraid to move. They were totally unlike anyone she'd ever met. They could have been some weird characters from a bizarre film.
G touched her breasts and she felt them sway under the dress, without a bra as usual.
"And such beautiful big junkets. And have you been putting breast developer on your buttocks?"
Linda felt that if he went on in his peculiar, superior tone she would burst into tears, but H butted in at this point.
"Don't you think, G, that M should be made to suffer first?"
"Ah, how right you are, H. I always suffered from an impulse to be unorthodox, but the usual pattern is best in this particular matter."
The man referred to as M raised himself from the chair in which he'd been mutely contemplating Linda. He took off his dressing gown without a word.
Linda gazed at the old, white body which was revealed. The skin was crumpled around his belly and thighs, the bones showed through and the flesh hung on him flabbily like pouches. She saw his stubby, limp penis, crinkled and uncircumcised. She averted her eyes, afraid that she would run from the room if she continued to look at the corpse-like apparition.
"Right. Take off your clothes, my dear," H said with a lascivious expectancy in his voice.
Linda felt the horror of a woman debased. She kept telling herself of the money. Forty pounds, forty pounds, forty pounds! The words kept running through her head to drive back her nausea.
"Come on B'linda. How can you tarry at the sight of such a delicious Prince Charming?"
M looked at G wearily as if he had once hated him but could no longer raise the energy. Then he strolled to a big rug near the fire.
Linda, with a flash of despair such as one feels when diving from a height into water, pulled up her dress, wriggled it over her head. They all stared at her large, upright breasts with goggling eyes. It was the first time she'd reached such a stage with any man and left him still with a limp prick.
Quickly she slipped out of her briefs, lifting first one leg out and then the other. Their eyes raged over her, taking in every roundness, every nook and cranny. H and G moved around her. She felt their hands smoothing over her buttocks, her back, belly, breasts, thighs, getting to know her, brushing their half-limp pricks against her as they moved, breathing ugly breath on her.
"There is hope for us yet," G said. He quoted: " "Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated.' Old Oscar would have climbed another step up the cultural ladder had he seen this beauty."
They caught hold of her and led her to the rug on which the heat from the fire fanned gently.
"Now, my dear, you'll learn what it's like to really tickle someone's'imagine."
M lay down on his back on the rug and stretched out his arms and legs towards the corners. He looked fiercely up at Linda as his two companions rolled back the extreme corners of the rug to reveal small, strong staples in the floor with thick, strong cords attached.
"There lies ugliness one of the seven deadly virtues," G said scornfully.
"I wish you'd read someone else than Wilde," H said, but with a certain indifference.
"There's none other worth it," G snapped back. "They're all too frivolous or too serious. He was the only one who understood what life was all about."
"Nonsense, he changed his mind too often."
"But he never changed his style."
"Shut up and get on." The words wheezed from the petulant mouth of M, the first he had uttered.
"Patience M: don't take yourself so seriously."
Both chuckling they bent down and began to fasten his skinny wrists and ankles to the cords of the staples while Linda stood, naked and flushed pink by the fire and embarrassment, behind them.
When it was done and M was firmly shackled to the floor, with the rose glow of the fire turning his limp penis to a sunset shade, H went to a drawer in a desk at one side of the room and returned with an enormous feather which he handed to Linda.
"An ostrich feather," he announced. "Very delicate, to be used with a fairy touch. You can start with the balls of his feet and work your way up, ignoring his phenomenal phallus until the last by which time it should be ready for you to impale your vagina on.' He leered at her and he and G turned the armchairs inwards to the fire, and sat in them, watching.
Linda looked with distaste on the feeble, prostrate body beneath her. It all seemed so silly and disgusting.
She knelt down at the old man's feet and began to flutter the feather against them. His toes began to twitch and he wriggled on the rug. She looked up after a while to see that the limp, rose penis had risen into a low-trajectory cannon and fallen rather sideways over his old-fleshed thigh.
Wondering if it was generally aphrodisiac to have one's feet tickled, she began to move the feather, dusting it up his skinny, veined old legs and up the-haired thighs. For some time she brushed it gently along his thighs, but without appreciable difference to the penis. The old man had his eyes closed, his forehead furrowed with concentration as if he were trying to create an erection from sheer willpower.
Gently she moved the big feather over his hip and revolved it on his slack belly. She hoped he wouldn't get an erection and then she wouldn't have to degrade herself by fucking him in front of the two eager watchers. But then again she remembered the forty pounds. Nothing had been said on the subject but it might well be that they would only pay her if they had complete satisfaction.
Once she looked up at the other two, seated, almost lying, in the armchairs with their legs crossed, their gowns open, fingering their unmanly pricks. Their eyes were intense as they watched every advance of the feather, watched the shadowing of faint muscle in her young body as she bent to her task.
She crawled alongside the old man, presenting a full, exposed bottom to their eyes. She moved the feather gently up his ribs, over his chest, around his neck, his shoulders and back again to his belly. She glanced at his organ. It had lifted from his thigh, seemed to be straining to reach the vertical in search of the more-than-vertical.
"Now his balls," G rasped suddenly.
She pulled the feather over his hips, down his thighs and frisked it around the two skinny pendulums. She saw the almost imperceptible movement of the prick and brought the feather up the underside of his penis, gently gliding.
A thin whine came from his lips and he wriggled his hips, the pouches of his buttocks brushing against the rug. His penis moved up.
Overcoming her squeamisliness, Linda took hold of the thin stick and pulled the yellow skin back from the pink knob. She began to run the feather softly against the knob, tickling it so that the whine came from his mouth again.
His penis was erect now, a long thin groping stick. She wondered if she should get on it, but, as if divining her hesitation, H said:
"Let him have a bit more, otherwise it'll go down as soon as you get on it and that'd be such a disappointment for both of you."
G gave a hoarse laugh which choked off at the end. He was still fingering his penis unsuccessfully.
Linda moved the feather up and down the rod of flesh, over the testicles, the whole of the pelvis. Did he really need this to get an erection? But, of course, he was an old man. Perhaps only the lightest of touches could get him going.
There was a disgusting obscenity about the whole thing. The old man with his loose flesh, erect now and squirming against the floor like a youth in passion; the other two, ugly and debauched, writhing in their chairs, gloating at the spectacle, at her young naked flesh, trying vainly to arouse themselves; the warmth of the room with its rugs and drapings an atmosphere of evil if there was such a thing.
"Get on, get on," M barked suddenly.
At the peremptory order, she was suddenly struck motionless, as if elastic bands held her in her place. She knelt beside him, the ostrich feather immobile in her hand, unable to take the step of swinging her thigh across his belly and descending onto his piercing rigidity. The ravishing of youth by age; there was horror in it, degradation and disgust.
M began to curse volubly, his penis to slacken. There were sudden gusts of laughter from H and G and then H's voice ordered her in cutting tones to resume.
"Your timing is not what it should be my dear," he said. "You must take what he has to offer as soon as you're told or you'll miss your pleasure to say nothing of your fortune." He added the last words in an undertone and Linda started. For the moment the thought of the forty pounds had slipped from her mind. She pulled herself together. She could do anything for such a sum.
She flicked the feather over his genitals again, with increasing dexterity, tickling his exposed flesh with concentration, forcing herself to forget the general, the whole, by concentrating on the specific, the part.
Perspiration was gathering in a film over his forehead. She fancied she could feel a youthful heat from his loins, but perhaps it was the fire.
His phallus was erect again, his body writhing as far as his shackled limbs would allow it.
"Just another touch to his feet," H said.
The feather whisked over his feet, under the arches, the soft skin at the base of the toes.
He began to squirm furiously.
"Enough, enough!" he cried.
"Carry on continue!" H's voice cut in.
M squirmed his feet, straining his ankles against the bonds which held him. His penis seemed to be expanding all the time as she tickled and he wriggled and complained.
"Now this time when I tell you to get on, get on immediately," H added. "If you want your pay, that is."
Forty pounds, forty pounds, forty pounds! After all, if she closed her eyes it would only be like any other prick, Linda told herself, and she'd experienced enough of them by now.
"Right, get on!"
Trying to make her eyes unseeing, concentrating only on getting the erect prick into her passage, she swung her leg over him, still tickling, so that she was astride him. She caught the hot stick of flesh, arranged her loins above it and then crushed down on it, with a searing flash of hopeless degradation storming her in the moment she felt it run thickly into her slow on the resistance of her vagina, then with a firm smooth pressure which was her own doing.
She threw back her head and heard M wheeze through his teeth and the others breathe quickly and coarsely as they strained in their chairs.
The degradation lasted only a moment while she was still able clearly to think of what she was doing. Then, with that familiar feeling of a prick inside her, she was lost in sensation.
Her buttocks squashed right down around his organ, full and heavy with the strength and energy of youth on him, bringing out a moan of pain.
Linda had pushed right down, taking all he could give in one descent and it was not enough for her. She knew immediately it was not going to satisfy her. Already, as she oiled up, it became lost, just a pressure without much backbone.
She felt a sudden tinge of annoyance that not only should they put her through such an ordeal with their disgusting, decrepit bodies, but then be unable to return the full pleasure. Male entry had brought about an immediate volte-face in her feelings. Savagely she plunged down on him, spreading her thighs on either side so that their insides, near her pelvis, flattened also against his hips. She'd make him suffer. He wouldn't get his pleasure neat. She'd make him curl up with suffering.
She heard the heavy breathing of H and G, heard them shuffling on the chairs. Up and down she rode like a rider breaking in a wild horse only the horse was tame, just lying there gasping.
With her eyes closed she could forget the room, the old men, the obscenity of the juxtaposition of youth with age, and just live in the delicious sensation of a prick surging into her orifice towards the desired climax.
Her breasts bobbed as she rose and fell, her neck fell back, curving in a graceful arch, her thighs rippled with light muscle, her buttocks sucked in and then blew out in upward and downward movements, and all the time, every second, this pole shot up into her.
She had intended to keep her eyes firmly shut, but his wheezing gasps made her open them, half forgetting where she was. It was then she felt the full debasement of herself.
His mouth was open and the dirty teeth showed yellow, through the dry lips. His eyes were fixed on her with a baleful look of savageness and passion. He was watching the contortion of her passionate face, letting her feeling flow from her to him.
Automatically she continued to rise and fall on his searching prick, her body seeming to have no connection with what her eyes saw. They both stared as their features worked in their passion. She was unable to take her eyes from him and so they stared, watching each other's agony portrayed on their faces.
While she watched she saw his eyes gleam in an almost beseeching expression as if he were a young man imploring his beloved to remain with him forever. She felt his thin hips rotate under her thighs as they pressed down, his thighs gyrate against her buttocks.
But his prick wasn't enough. She could feel the stirring in her loins and she closed her eyes again, but it seemed the excitement had met a barrier which it would not cross.
She put her hands down in front of her and caught his thin penis as she rose off it. She squeezed it, feeling its inadequacy with her hands, trying to expand it with the touch of her fingers and then she descended and felt it run inside her until it petered out and left her with a vacuum to be filled.
Behind her closed eyes a fury grew. She needed it now the way she needed horse and this dirty old man was going to deprive her. She felt as if she'd been defrauded.
"Can't you make your bloody thing any bigger?" she gasped out. "More, I must have more!"
She crooned the words out without opening her eyes as if in a trance and the pricks of H and G suddenly rose up to a nearerect state.
"What a savage little beauty," G gritted between his teeth.
Linda quickened her movement on the old man, bludgeoning his prick with her rushing down-movement. He was sweating profusely, his hips felt crushed and it gave him a stifling sensation in his throat.
He tried to croak out to her to be gentle, but no words came only a muffled explosion of breath.
Linda's mouth was open, her head back. She caught hold of his hips on either side and tried to pull him into her, unaware now of the thin bones, hardly covered with flesh, as anything more than an inanimate substance.
"Oh, oh stop, stop!" The old man found his breath at last and panted out a plea which brought hoots of lustful laughter from G and H.
"No mercy, no mercy!" H ordered.
Linda would have had to be pulled off him anyway. She was almost oblivious of her surroundings now that she needed that something extra to satisfy her. She wriggled her hips, screwing them down on him, slightly this way, slightly that, rubbing her buttocks against his flesh, trying to make his thrust greater than it could possibly be.
M was moaning, his cracked lips moving in protest, his body protesting against this ravishment. He'd never had such energy and force used against him before.
Nonetheless, his prick was throbbing as well as feeling swallowed and sore. He felt he couldn't stand it, that he would die; he could feel his heart fluttering, but he knew he was going to come. If he could only last out until that moment when the throbbing broke into a thousand stars of delight.
He glued his eyes on Linda's breasts, watched them jump loosely up and down; he moved his gaze to where his old prick, more excited than it had been for a long time, disappeared and reappeared, swallowed by her body one moment, thrust out the next. If it wasn't for the pain he could have enjoyed the sight, voluptuously reveling in the thought that she was young enough to be his granddaughter. But his heart was fluttering and he felt weak, except that his prick seemed to be growing and growing and there was a spiraling activity in his loins, snaking its way down, down with ever-growing strength, opening his mouth, dazing him, going to his head, his prick, making him dizzy...
Linda opened her eyes, hearing the strange animal noises issuing from the old throat. She couldn't get it to fill her; it was no good. She gave her hips a good downward thump and another in petulant fury and the half-arousement of passion. The old bastard, the old eunuch.
She heard the gurgle like disappearing bathwater gush from his throat and felt the liquid warmth in her passage as she flopped downwards ; she felt him tense as if in a fit and then he went limp and even paler than he had been before. The inadequate pressure in her vagina dwindled quickly to nonexistence. She sat on him like a victorious wrestler. She felt cheated.
G got up and waddled over. His penis was nearly erect and pointed out of his dressing gown.
"Good God, H, he's fainted!" he barked. He looked at Linda with a leer. "She's not only a beauty, she's one of the devil's flock," he said in tones of satisfaction.
Linda climbed off the limp body. She felt like crying now. She was back in reality, and except for the itch in her loins it was a very unpleasant reality. The fact that the old man should have fainted was more obscene than comic.
G kept his eyes on her, his penis still at three-quarter mast while he untied M's wrists and ankles.
"I thought people only fainted in the Marquis de Sade," he went on suavely. "Indeed, you must have venom in your charming little channel. Perhaps we'd better pay some begger to come in and suck it just to make sure before we proceed."
H had come up behind Linda, meanwhile, and was pressing against her as she stood up beside the mantelpiece.
She felt his prick, which also seemed to be almost completely stiff, brushing against the warmth of her buttocks.
"You have the most springy flesh," he said in her ear, licking it. "It's a wonder you weren't flung to the ceiling every time you gave his petrified penis a bit of air."
Linda felt his breath, which smelt of a mixture of bad eggs and whisky, surround her in an aura of foulness. If only she didn't have these conscious moments. Forty pounds, forty pounds! She forced the words through her head as if she were trying to think of other things while she had a tooth pulled.
"He's living still," G said sorrowfully, from the floor. "He wouldn't know how to make such a magnificent exit."
H had pulled Linda's reluctant hand around her back and placed it on his penis. He began to jerk his penis in her hand and after a second or two she responded to his wish and began to rub him gently.
"Delicious, my dear," he whispered with a catch in his breath. "I must recommend you to Ram Gopal for those wonderful finger movements."
Linda felt the bulbous flesh thicken spongily in her hand. She wondered how long it would be before he filled her. It would be too terrible to be left unsatisfied and without horse, even though it meant enduring his beastly old embraces.
"I really don't think we can wait for him to recover," G said. "It's a pity to think that he might be robbed of another erection that should really finish him off but I personally believe in striking while the iron's hot and all I need is a little blowing on my iron for it to reach a white heat."
He went back to his chair and sank down in it, with his prick rearing uncertainly out.
"Bring her here H," he said. You can limber between her thighs while she tastes my nectar."
H pulled her away from the mantelpiece and pushed her onto her knees in front of G's widespread thighs. She saw the fat man's eyes as he looked at her. They were cruel and in-turned, bent on his own satisfaction.
"Now suck, B'linda, until you're blue in the face to match your eyes."
Linda moved her head down, fighting once more against nausea. The black scrub-covered belly came towards her, she smelt the sweat of lust and then her lips were against the end of the great, knobby prick.
It smelt, too, of sweat and there was a salt taste as her lips went over it and it was shoved upward into her mouth. She closed her eyes against the fat, hairy belly, the jungle of the thighs and tried to close her mind to everything but a mechanical movement of tongue and lips.
A few seconds later she felt hands closing her thighs from behind and the warmth of another hairy body against her back. A half-limp staff prodded between her thighs and began to intrude there, pushing against the milky flesh, backwards and forwards, hot as a long doughnut just cooked. Hands came round her and played with her breasts as she worked her mouth on the tip of the fleshy rod.
The organ began to swing up under her and she had to move her head forward as she felt it suddenly on the roof of her mouth.
"Aaaah," G let out a stream of breath in satisfaction.
The prick which rubbed, more fiercely now, between her thighs was also thickening, hardening like cooking pastry.
"Say when," grunted H, behind her. "It'll take me a bit longer yet."
"Ready, aaaah, ready!" G was lunging his great oozy belly at her.
"Over on the other rug," H said, getting up from behind her.
"All right B'linda, you can leave your labor of love for two seconds and then we'll see who faints first," G gasped softly.
H pulled Linda to her feet and G swung heavily to his. She stared at his prick. It was the biggest she'd seen. If that couldn't satisfy her, nothing could.
"Let's not go out into the wilderness for our pleasure," G pleaded, looking with distaste at the rug on the far side of the room. "Here within the fire of civilization. You can lean on the chair, H. I'll swing her on my bough."
H obediently arranged himself against the side of the chair, turning his back on Linda and slipping out of his gown altogether. He put his hand on the back of the chair and spread his legs.
Now, B'linda. With your left hand you will continue to give rise to his hopes, with the other you will explore his anus up to the last finger joint he-likes that. In fact, H, I don't know why you don't let Simon have a go with you. Your Grecian tendencies are more than clear."
"I've told you before, G, that a tender female finger gains in comparison with a gross male member."
"Very well," G continued with a coarse chuckle. "And you'd better bend well down, B'linda, because I'm going to thrust my venom in your womb the way Baudelaire would have loved to I might even write a poem to you afterwards, but I expect I shall be too busy looking for smelling salts for you."
Linda stood behind H and began to toss him off gently. But she could not bring herself to push her finger through the dark mass of hair into his anus.
G stood behind her, looking at her behind and making kissing noises with his lips.
"You've forgotten your orders," he said after a few seconds. You must really obey to the letter unless you want us to impose a surtax on your earnings. Do not forget, B'linda, that for the time being you are our employee, our slave."
Linda concentrated on the penis which she could not see, as, tentatively, she brushed her middle finger through the backside hair. The hair was coarse and a warmth came from the long crack between the loose-fleshed buttocks. H wriggled his feet farther apart in anticipation. Her finger came to a halt against a firm, resistant flesh.
"Push!" H ordered, jerking his behind back at her.
It had to be done. Linda pushed, her nail digging into the walls of the anus, making H squeal. Then the portal had given way and her finger was in just the tip of it enough to feel the nipping pressure and then the softness of the inside. H clamped his buttocks together and his prick seemed to lunge out into space over the arm of the chair, pulling her hand right down to its base.
When H pushed his behind back at her again and her finger pushed in a little further, G caught hold of her shoulders from behind and pushed her down so that her back made a horizontal line and her inside shoulder pushed against the back of H's thigh which supported her.
Behind her she felt the presence of G moving round her, looking at her; she heard his breath sucking in sharply, blowing out again unevenly.
She tensed as she felt his hand explore between her legs and, as he entered her hole with one finger and loosened it, opening it, moistening it, a physical reaction made her shove her finger deeper into H's rectum. She heard his choke of recognition.
Then she felt G arranging himself behind her stretched behind which formed two arches of a bridge. He pushed her thighs apart and she was aware of the outside of his legs against the inside of hers. Her position was a little strained, but if they didn't take too long she reckoned she could stand it.
H's prick seemed to be rearing up at its fullest, now, but he gave no indication of wanting her in any other position. He continued to push his behind back just above her face so that her finger plunged in as far as the second joint.
The warmth of G's belly rested on her bottom and oozed around it and suddenly, with a hot, unexpected rush, his phallus made a furious breach in her, a breach which was consolidated immediately as she gulped with a second thrust carrying it smoothly, like a ship passing down a narrow canal, into her passage.
In the considerable shock of his deep penetration, Linda rocked forward and lost her hold on H's prick. But his thighs, against the cnair, held her up and he immediately replaced her hand on his organ and pushed his buttocks back against her hand once again.
The big prick in her moved up and up a long slide in and a much shorter one out, like a rowing stroke reversed. With each long in-stroke he pushed farther up into the depths of her vagina towards the cervix.
Linda moved her behind round circularly on the end of his bar of pulsation. She closed her eyes and forgot where she was. This was it; this was content, passionate content. Her vagina was being widened by the splitting penetration of his tool.
She continued to dig into H's ass. Her finger had gone in right up to the hilt now, but she didn't notice. She moved it around automatically in the soft, slippery depths of his hole, while her hand went on caressing his penis, slipping up and down, up and down on the moving, hard flesh.
Behind her G grunted and strained. She felt the whole bulk of his weight against her pelvis, almost lifting her off her feet, sending her head into H's thighs like a rugby player making a tackle according to the textbook.
His prick was so big in her now that it hurt, but it was a delicious, welcome hurt. Her stretched posture added to the hurt, the delight.
Her flesh winced sensually as his big, pudgy hands came down around her hips, and held them and pulled her hips back onto his prick as he thrust in. She was like some toy, some puny plaything into which he was pushing his penis.
And that was what she wanted to be. The thought of Des flushed through her mind for a moment. That was what she wanted to be: some puny plaything on the end of a man's prick, filled by it, helpless against it, completed, ravished.
Her dream-like thought was broken by H suddenly twisting round with a groan, holding her up by her shoulders while he lowered himself onto the arm of the chair. He pulled her head onto his lap, pushing his prick into her mouth, while G continued to punch his weight fully into her hole.
Both men could see each other, pumping, face convulsed at each end of her rounded full-fleshed body and she could see neither, only feel the entry of heavy, rigid lengths of flesh at each end of her upturned body.
Rocking on his feet, G began to push into her so hard, searching for ever further penetration, that she was actually lifted off her feet several times with whimpering gasps and flung forward onto H's prick which shot through her mouth and into her throat, almost choking her.
"Fuck her, fuck her," H groaned to G. "Throw her onto my prick. She nearly swallowed my balls."
"I've a good inch to go yet," panted G, still with a cruel facetiousness. "And they say an inch is as good as a yard. Stand ready."
Linda heard the coarse, impersonal conversation above and around her, the lascivious words bandied from one to another and now, in her agitated state, they served only to heighten her desire.
"Fuck me, fuck me with the other inch!" she heard herself moan from around the prick between her lips.
"Why, the sexy harlot she has a cunt like a well," G roared savagely and with a grip that made her squeal he pulled aside the flanges of her vagina and plunged in with the final inch.
"Oh oh oh!" she moaned.
She felt as if her womb had been pierced by some bulldozing instrument which was now going to churn her loins into a raging sea of flesh.
Again H's spear plunged down her throat, choking her, making her struggle and gasp as if she were drowning. She seemed to be impaled on that great prick up her cunt. She was sure it must be stuck there never to be withdrawn.
G pressed his great belly over and around her ass, jiggling against her without withdrawing, savoring the delicious sensation of flapping his prick around in the farthest depths of her, pulling her back tightly against his loins with his hands.
"Ooooooaaaah!" he breathed. "A wonderful fit. I could stay like this forever."
"And so could I, almost," Linda thought, "except that I need to feel the harsh pistoning into me!"
Sucking mechanically, she began to revolve her globes of buttocks, instilling a final desire in him to plunge in and out and in again in a glorious pain of movement.
She had all but forgotten about the prick in her mouth which had become almost an inanimate object, irrelevant to the delight at the other end of her, but suddenly H, with a whine of breath, reached down and pushed her head onto his stiff rod, running his hand over her hair, crushing it as if he'd like to kill her.
"I can feel it," he called, savagely joyful. "It's coming at last!"
She heard G wheezing against her ass. He quickened his stroke and the change in tempo made her tense. She felt sore and slightly aching, but both pains were subjugated by the overpowering pressure of desire to empty her loins.
H was tensing his legs under her, shooting them out under her bent body, pushing his hips up at her face. His flesh grazed against her teeth as she sucked and had sudden desires to bite.
"Oh oh oh! Bliss, bliss! Oh oh!" He seemed to be in delirium. She wriggled a hand under her face and held the stem, squeezing it at the same time as she sucked.
The desire to empty her loins was growing, growing. Her vagina would be the trapdoor through which the whole of her loins would flow. She closed her eyes, the pressure of desire heavy under the lids.
G's thumbs were pulling apart the lips of her vagina, moving in against her clitoris as his prick moved in also.
"Nearly there, nearly there!" he gasped.
H was practically buckling on the arm of the chair. His body had fallen back across it, his head resting on the other arm. He was like a skelton in the throes of some macabre dance of passion. His penis was filling her mouth. It was very hot in spite of her saliva's cooling balm. She knew he was about to come as his hands reached again for her head and his breath seemed to halt in a complete stillness. There was a hesitation in the air with only the rocking, where G was fucking her back there, to disturb it. She knew he was going to come and she sucked voraciously, gluttonously and waited to receive the old man's aging sperm. The hesitation was rent by an agonized groan which sent a shudder along the whole of his body and she felt the hot, sticky liquid filling her mouth like a fountain and she swallowed, swallowed fiercely because her loins were gradually opening, ready to storm in a cloudburst through that already open trapdoor.
H fell back into the chair, slithering away from them, watching with dull eyes as she ranged her shoulder against the arm of the chair, contorting her face as she felt the emptying hesitate, waiting for the cloudburst.
She gasped and gasped into the furry arm of the chair, and she rotated her bottom, pushing back at him as he pushed forward and her mouth opened and with a gasp which filled the room, her loins emptied and flooded down through the trapdoor which opened a little more in its climax to allow the cloudburst to escape.
H's dull eyes watched G's great, black belly enveloping her conquered buttocks, his great mast of prick plunging fully into her. He saw G's face crease into a score of pained wrinkles. He wished vaguely that he still had it to come.
G pushed and pushed, savagely. He wanted to kill her, to destroy her with his maleness. He had heard her gasps. He knew he'd hurt her, but he knew also she had accepted the challenge and reveled in it and he wanted to hurt her, to have her cry out for mercy. But his penis was a great throbbing spear over which he no longer had any control and he could only bring dull groans from her now. His prick was reaching, reaching, his entrails a swirl of excitement, all mixed up together. He had to hold on. He gritted his teeth. He threw back his head and rocked his loins at her, pushing, pushing with a grinding gasp into her soft body, up, up her vagina into the very source of her. He gasped, gasped and gasped and then the gasp broke into a strangled cough and he had shot his burning volleys into her in a staccato rush of fury which grew, then waned, and died slowly away.
Linda leaned up, realizing for the first time how stiff her back was and then she leaned, worn out but satisfied, against the back of the chair.
G sank down onto the rug beside M who had come to and, unknown to the others, had been watching them throughout their last moments.
"A pleasing display," he said after a while. He was grinning. His orgasm seemed to have given him a good mood and a tongue in his head.
H stretched in the chair and looked down at his lank penis.
"So soon over, my dear M, so soon over."
"The great thing about things that please is that you can always do them again," G called unsteadily from his armchair.
"But not often enough, eh?" M said with a wry grin which made his vicious features like those of a stoat who's trapped the rabbit at last, "Speak for yourself."
"I think I speak for all of us. Our trouble is that we've already done them too often and a surfeit of anything breeds an impotence in connection with it."
"Give me an hour and we'll see."
"Ah, I'm sorry to see that, as well as quoting Wilde, you've fallen prey to his adolescent boasting. You're becoming a bore, my dear fellow."
"If boasting is solely concerned with adolescence then the teen-agers are supreme. Nothing helps one to rise in the world like the ability to boast well."
"Ah-to boast well, perhaps."
Linda, exhausted, hung over the chair and listened with half an ear to the conversation.
They amazed her still, these men. They seemed from another world. They had just finished having her, satisfying their lust and now they were indulging in the most ridiculous argument she'd heard-with a vicious undercurrent which they masked with their calm and their affected politeness.
G stood up and pulled on his dressing gown.
"The trouble with you M is that you've taken your years badly. You haven't even the energy to boast."
"I prefer to conserve it for more necessary occupation."
"You need to, M. They become more necessary as the capacity dies."
"Now children," H cut in suavely. "Don't let us quarrel in front of our charming guest, who is behaving so well towards us."
Recovered, now, Linda could not believe the past hour. It was unbelievable that the mere presence of a stimulant around her clitoris, a prick somewhere in her, should give her utterly different emotions, fill her with a disregard for everything but her need to be filled and to give pleasure and receive it. She felt freshly revolted. They had swum back again into the forms they had when she first arrived-except that now they knew her body, had seen her naked, used her. She shuddered, trying not to be drawn in by the sordid view of their debauched bodies.
"The poor child is cold," said H with mock sympathy, as if he divined her repulsion. "Here, take this dressing gown. We can't have you getting cold before the next performance."
Linda fitted herself into the gown reluctantly. It smelled of him. She wondered how long the night would be and the lack of horse set up a fluttering inside her. She wished they were three editions of Des or even that Betty was here with her. That would make it less horrible. At least there would be sympathy and they could even laugh about it afterwards. Now, it would always be a horrible memory.
Later, when the procedure began all over again in a bedroom with a fire as big as that in the other room, she kept repeating and repeating: Forty pounds, forty pounds, forty pounds!