Chapter 18
I, Dee Dee Summers was certainly no babe in the woods when it comes to a hot screw in the hay, but the fuck workout I had just had was absolutely the top session in my young life. I fell asleep and slept like, a log. I didn't even dream about Vic Vellick. How could I? After the five fabulous cocks I had taken on -he was built like a midget. Well, live and learn.
It did my girlish heart good to know that there were virile young pricks like that right under the same roof with me in the Tabernacle. I would sure never be lonely, no matter what happened. I really had to congratulate Sibyl on what I had seen and sampled of her cock-stable so far. I also wondered what my ultimate humping capacity as far as men were concerned was. Here I had just frigged five in rapid succession. Just how many cunt-crazy males could I handle without throwing in the sponge?
I was awakened in a highly unusual manner. I had fallen asleep naked and someone was kissing my pussy-lips in a highly expert manner. As I felt the nibbles of warm lips and the darting delight of an eager tongue and mouth, my cunny and buttocks went into undulating rhythm. I closed my eyes and let the glorious sensation continue. Before I even knew who it was, my twat was convulsing ecstatically in a surge of warm flooding come bliss.
"Open your eyes, sleeply head, and follow me to my office," Sibyl was saying tenderly. "You are now a Full Cuntessa."
When we were in her office and I had signed my contract with Sibyl, I said, "Seems to me I made it the hard way, no pun intended."
"Not at all, Dee Dee," Sibyl explained. "It was the usual tough-ass tryout. I've given you a posthynotic suggestion to give yourself sexually to any man, or number of men, no matter what they want. The boys were treating you rough deliberately. The fact that you were powerless to refuse to fuck for them in any way they demanded, even though you wanted to consciously, shows that the subconscious post-hypnotic command is working.
"I understand," I said. "Uh, how long will this post-hypnotic command last?"
Sibyl glanced at a calendar on her desk. "Four months. For the next four months you will find yourself unable to deny any man any pussy favor he may request. Or even hint at. The more depraved and obscene his request -the more you will feel compelled to obey him."
"Listen," I said, "you didn't have to give me a post-hypnotic order like that-I mean, I wouldn't anyhow refuse to hump in any unusual way with a man. Even something shocking and depraved. Especially something shocking and depraved. So long as he asked me nicely, that is."
Sibyl's lip curled. "Some of my suckers -converts, I mean -are old men who can't even get a real hardon anymore. And, in the delusion and hallucination-ridden state to which I frequently reduce them for my ultimate financial profit, they are not likely to ask you for humps nicely. And it would shatter their willing suspension of disbelief in my synthetic pagan religion if any of my Primary Cuntessas or Vestal Virgins should suddenly get coy or run screaming from their futile fuck tools. Understandably, I can't risk that happening. Hence all my Vestal Virgins are, as it were, post-hypnotically brainwashed. It is pussy a man wants -pussy is what they give him. Any time, any way, any how. Whether they .feel like fucking or not. Yes, a question?"
"Yes ma'am. Am I a Primary Cuntessa or a Vestal Virgin?"
"Do you know what their functions are?"
"Oh sure," I said. "She -well -no, I don't know."
"I didn't think you did. Vestal Virgins, my dear Dee Dee, were -utilized -by a remarkable number of old pagan religions all over the world. Their function was simple -and effective. The pagan executives who ran the old pagan religions were shrewd enough to realize that most men spend most of their waking hours thinking idly -or intensively -about cunt."
"That's true," I said. "At least from my personal humping experience."
"Quite. Well, this bugged the pagan bigshots who ran the old pagan religions. How, they asked themselves, can a man pay proper respects to our pagan idol if half his mind is occupied with pussy thoughts. They hit upon a simple solution: Vestal Virgins.
"Outside their pagan temples they constructed sumptuous -well, we'd call them cathouses of joyous repute. And they stocked them with young luscious, twats, scantily clad maidens. Get the picture, before he could even get to the pagan temple of his choice, the would-be pagan worshiper had to walk through a corridor with these fuck-ready pussy-peddlers -each urging him to sample her charms. For free.
"The male pagan worshipper smiled at the Vestal Virgin of his choice, allowed himself to be dragged into her private chambers -and there she flung off what few garments she was wearing. And the would-be pagan worshipper rammed his hardon between the willing thighs of the Vestal Virgin. Pagan bedsprings squeaked for an hour or so and then, temporarily hump-satisfied -and hence able to think of other things besides pussy -the pagan worshipper tottered into the temple to pay his respects to the pagan idol"
"Hey," I said, "what a swinging, if horny, concept"
"Exactly. I have revived the practice of employing Vestal Virgins. And man, does it pay off." She chuckled. "Obviously, in the phrase 'Vestal Virgin' the word 'virgin' is not taken seriously. It represented, one might say, one of the earliest pre-Madison Avenue pieces of bullshit."
"Yes ma'am, I said. "I think I'm going to like being a Vestal Virgin. It's the kind of job I've really got the physical equipment for."
"So I intuitively decided the moment I saw you. Now, to return to the terms of your enlistment." She tapped my Enlistment Papers, which I'd already signed. "Your enlistment, as you may have surmised, is for four months only. If I kept any of my horny staff longer than that, my more jaded, uh, converts would begin to complain. It i® essential that I regularly inject new, ah, talented ass on my team." "Oh," I said.
"During the four months you will serve on my team I demand unswerving obedience and a willingness, nay, eagerness to screw my pagan converts at any hour of the day or night. In return I will supply you with bed and board -and give you five thousand dollars, tax-free, on the day of your discharge. Agreed."
"You bet!" I said.
"Splendid." She picked up my Enlistment Papers and stuck them in a desk drawer. "I'll take you on a complete tour of this establishment later. Suffice it to say, for the time being, that this house is an old mansion near Atlantic Beach which I have completely remodeled. On this floor is my personal suite and business offices. The second floor has been converted into sumptuous living quarters for my staff -that's where you'll live. The first floor, of course, consists of synthetic pagan temples wherein I cock and cunt-craze, then fleece the suckers -I mean converts. Come, I'll introduce you to your co-workers".
I followed her downstairs to the second floor and got introduced to my co-workers -ten shapely teenage Cuntessas and five lusty-looking teenage cocksters. The males, of course, I'd already met -or at least had up my love nook -the previous evening.
Everybody was very nice to me. The boys apologized for having given me a hard time. I told them to think nothing of it, that I understood now that they'd just been following orders, and the girls slapped me on my behind and shook my hand and welcomed me to the Order. It was all real friendly.
I decided I was going to like working at the Tabernacle of the Cosmic Consciousness. For one thing the Recreation Room, where I met the Order, was a real comfortable looking place -a huge room with easy chairs and magazine racks and color TV sets scattered all around the place, along with a couple of pingpong tables.
"Come." said Sibyl, "I'll show you your room."
Which she did. And my room looked just great -a big, comfortable bedroom with a double bed and a wonderful view of the Atlantic through the bars on the window.
"The Atlantic!" I gasped. "The ocean of my dreams! I can hardly wait to go out and stroll around. Uh, when am I off duty?"
Silence. I turned around. Sibyl was sprawled on the bed lighting a cigarette. "Obviously," she said, you didn't read the fine print in your Enlistment Papers. For the four months you will be employed here, your ass so to speak is continually on duty or at least in a state of standby alert."
"You mean," I said, "I'm a prisoner here -I can't go out?"
"You cannot go out, no -but you can hardly consider yourself a prisoner. You have all the comforts of home. TV. Radio. Newspapers and magazines of all kinds. Pingpong. A swimming pool in the basement. Excellent food and drink. Plus, uh, companionship. By which I mean my Pagan Choir Boys and Vestal Virgins are quite free to fuck it up among themselves -on their own time. Just consider yourself a permanent -and well-paid -guest of mine for the next four months.
"I don't like not being able to go out," I said.
Sibyl's eyes flashed -and for the first time I realized that she had a hard, mean streak in her. Real hard and real mean. "Like it or not," she snapped, "that's the way it is." Then she relaxed and said in a more friendly tone of voice, "Consider things from my point of view, Dee Dee. I've invested a fortune in this establishment -and I'm paying you and your co-workers big money. I can't risk losing all or any part of my potential profits. And I'd be risking everything if I permitted you -or any of your co-workers -to wander around, fucking strangers for free."
"I don't know about the others," I said. "But if you think I'd blab about my profitable if horny job to strangers -why, you're dead wrong. I have a strong sense of company loyalty, especially where my pussy is concerned."
"No doubt," purred Sibyl. "But it isn't the chance of your humping out of turn that worries me -so much as your being seen. To the rich, usually elderly suckers -I mean converts -who patronize this pagan temple, you and your fellow fuck-artists are mysterious, exotic, erotic Vestal Virgins. Think how disillusioned they'd be if they bumped into a Vestal Virgin strolling through a dime store or eating popcorn in a movie lobby. That girl looked like a mysterious and dedicated pagan during the Ritual Revels last night, they'd say to themselves. But now I see she's merely a common-looking teenage piece of pussy-They'd begin to suspect I was running a racket. Right?"
I thought over what she'd said. She was right. It wouldn't do for her Vestal Virgins and Pagan Choir Boys to be seen in p*ublic. Also, it suddenly struck me that, while I didn't like the idea of not being able to go outdoors for four months, it probably would be the wisest thing, all things considered. Like, if the cops were looking for me, they'd never find me in The Tabernacle of Cosmic Consciousness. In a way it was a perfect setup. I could have a good time fucking all corners in perfect safety and near luxury for the next four months. And when I left, not only would the heat be off, but I'd have five thousand bucks free and clear. More than enough to finance my plan to unload my diamonds.
"Okay," I said. "I accept the terms of my enlistment. I won't try to leave the premises." I looked around my new room. Even though it was comfortable, it was kind of bare looking. Like, there wasn't even a closet or a chest of drawers. "Uh, where do I put my clothes?" I asked.
Sibyl rose to her feet, smiling. "You don't. Your clothes -I had Sardar Parker pick up your belongings from your former rooming house -will be returned to you on the day of your honorable discharge. Until then you won't have need of clothes. A further safeguard against you or any of your coworkers trying to slip out for a stroll. Surely you noticed that all your co-workers were sitting around the Recreation Room stark naked?"
"Well, yes," I admitted. "But I figured they were just being informal."
"Clothes," repeated Sibyl, "are not needed or worn by my Team when off duty. On duty, of course, you will wear a costume, just the merest cunny covers and asshole protectors. Your costumes are in there." She pointed to a small wooden box on my table.
I opened the box. A tube of liquid adhesive and a bunch of synthetic diamonds, rubies and emeralds.
"These are costumes?" I asked.
"Precisely. The working costume for a Vestal Virgin consists of a single jewel set in the navel, in addition to the twat and asshole protectors.
"Oh," I said.
"I must leave you now," said Sibyl, glancing at her wristwatch. "I'll give you more detailed instruction concerning your penis duties later. Meanwhile, why don't you stroll down to the Recreation Room and get better acquainted with your co-workers? They're a grand bunch of kids. Around here," she added, "we're just one big fucking family."
With that she went out. I took her advise and strolled down to the Recreation Room where I spent the next few hours chatting with those Vestal Virgins and Pagan Choir Boys who weren't on duty which was most of them. Mornings, I learned, were a slack cock and cunt time around the Tabernacle of Cosmic Consciousness.
Like Sibyl had said, they were nice kids. Most of them were a little older than me -eighteen or nineteen -and, aside from a couple of whores Sibyl had discovered in a house of joyous repute, they were just about all would-be TV actors and actresses.
They all seemed to like their jobs, too. As one of the Pagan Choir Boys -Tony, his name was put it, "A deal like this is a real cock-happy ball for me. As a struggling actor I was having it real tough before I answered a blind ad and got hired by Sibyl. Sure I'm out of circulation for a few months. But I'm not really out of touch. Variety and the Hollywood Reporter get delivered here every day. And we have a flourishing amateur dramatic society. Also I'm studying books on acting -Sardar Parker goes to New York Public Library twice a week; just give him a list of the books you want and he brings them back. Sibyl encourages us to improve our minds in addition to our humping techniques. But best of all, when I leave here I'll have five thousand bucks -enough to grubstake me a year, if I'm careful."
"I'm happy for you," I said. A thought struck me. "You've been here a month," I said. "Have any of the old, uh, graduates been back to see you -or written?"
"You bet," said Tony. "They drop by all the time. Just last week old Hank -he left a month ago -ducked in. Looked great. Said he was working steady at TV jobs. Not having to hold down part-time jobs had really helped his career. A lot of the old grads drop by from time to time. Julie. Grace. Mikey -people you wouldn't know. Why do you ask?"
"No reason," I said. But for some reason I felt a whole lot better.
"Yes," said Tony, "Fucking for a living sure is great. Short, zippy working hours -and lots of hump time off. Speaking of hump," he added, reaching out and grabbing my breasts, "are you fanatically prudish -or do you feel like having a ball?"
"Any time," I said, snuggling up close to him and letting my hands cup his balls and rub the foreskin on his blooming dong. "Uh, shall we tear off a piece in my room -or yours?"
"Why bother?" said Tony, pulling my ass down on the floor. "All the kids are hip. Hey, kids!" he yelled. Dee Dee and I are going to have a little fun. Wanna join in?"
"You bet!" everybody yelled, and all at once they started piling on top of Tony and me. On top and all around and in between. And then -well, you wouldn't believe all the swinging, pagan things I did. Like there was this big penis that zoomed right up my asshole, then the cock that filled my mouth full of come at the same time, and the juicy cunt pressed to my lips before I could swallow the male love-juice . . . and then somebody put some chocolate syrup on my cunny and Tony started to lick it clean again ...
So what with one thing and another, the morn ing passed real fast.
What a wonderful job! How could I have been so dumb as to feel vaguely uneasy about this frigging set-up?
In the afternoon we had a going-away party for a girl named Georgette, a slender -though wel stacked -dark-haired cunt who had completed her four months as a Vestal Virgin and was being hon orably discharged. In fact, my pussy was replacing hers.
We all got slightly drunk and sang songs like Till We Fuck Again, and got real maudlin and sen timental. Then Georgette excused herself and came back, smiling through her tears, all dressed up in a sweater and skirt. She looked real conspicuous, considering the rest of us were all stark naked.
"Good-bye, gang," she said, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. "I'm on my way upstairs now to get my five thousand dollars and say good-bye to Sibyl. But I won't forget you -and I'll be back every week to tell you how I'm doing on the outside."
And with that, dabbing at her eyes, she walked out of the Recreation Room.
Everybody waved good-bye to her. Everybody but me, that is. Me, I felt vaguely uneasy.
"Excuse me," I said, wriggling the cock of the naked teen-age boy I was sprawled under out of my pussy. "I'm just going to my room for a moment."
But once out of the Recreation Room I turned and sneaked, quietly, upstairs. And as I sneaked I suddenly realized why I felt vaguely disturbed. What was disturbing me was the thought that, if Sibyl couldn't risk having her Vestal Virgins and Pagan Choir Boys walking the streets while they were employed -how come she didn't mind them walking around after they'd been discharged? The obvious implications made me shiver all over.
Upstairs, on Sibyl's private floor, I paused outside her half-open office door and peeked in. Georgette, still dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief, was standing in front of Sibyl's desk.
"And I," purred Sibyl "Owe you quite a bit, too." She turned, opened a wall safe behind her, and took out handfuls of greenbacks. "Five thousand dollars," she said. "Plus," she added, "a thousand-dollar bonus for perverted fuck services beyond and above the call of duty."
"Oh thank you -thank you ever so much!" sobbed Georgette, while Sibyl stuffed the money into a large manila envelope. "You're so kind and generous and -and generous."
I shrank back a little, feeling guilty. How could I have suspected a generous super-madam like Sibyl? After all, there is such a thing as the code of the cathouse.
"Perhaps," I heard Sibyl say, "you'd like to take this with you as a souvenir. It's the synthetic diamond you used to wear over your cute bush. Look at it. Pretty, isn't it?"
I peeked through the half-open door again. Geogette was staring at a synthetic diamond Sibyl was holding in front of her. The light sparkled almost hypnotically on it. Georgette stared at the glittering stone -and then suddenly went stiff and rigid as one of my teen-ager's hardons.
"You are in a trance," crooned Sibyl. "A deep hypnotic trance."
Georgette nodded her head mechanically.
"Good," snapped Sibyl, opening the manila envelope, removing all the money ,and shoving it back into her wall safe. Then she pulled open a desk drawer, pulled out a handful of blank white paper, and stuffed that into the envelope instead. After which she carefully resealed the envelope.
Then, humming cheerfully to herself, she picked up the telephone and dialed. A pause. Then, "Hello, Jack? This is Sibyl. Now don't talk that way, Jack. Sure I snatched Dee Dee's naked and voluptuous twat away from you -but only because my need for her cunty charms were greater than yours. You'll get her back, eventually. Yes. Of course. Certainly you can do anything you want to her naked, writhing ass. After I'm finished with her, that is. Okay. Now, I have another surplus teen-age pussy-package on my hands. Name of Georgette. Rather slim but well-stacked. Want to buy her from me? No, I don't give a damn what horrible things you do to her -or how loud she screams while you do them. All I want is five hundred dollars for her first-class fuck equipment. Oh. You're too busy working on a missile-training movie for General Defense Corporation to shoot any realistic screw movie scenes? Yes. No, I can't keep Georgette on ice for a few days. I'll have to dispose of her some other way. No I can't stuff her alive and screaming into the giant garbage-disposal unit in my basement -the damn thing's out of order and I can't get a plumber. All right. Never mind. I'll manage some other way. Okay, I'll call you next week. I'll have another sexy slut to dispose of by then. Good bye."
She hung up and then stared at Georgette who was still staring hypnotically into space -in a morose, speculative manner.
Then she brightened. "Georgette," she said cheerfully, "when I snap my fingers hypnotically, you'll come out of your hypnotic trance and walk briskly out of this building. You will not, however, so much as glance into the manila envelope full of, heh, heh, money -instead you will use this ten-dollar bill -" She fumbled in her desk drawer, came up with a ten-dollar bill, and thrust it into Georgette's hand. "You will use this ten-dollar bill to hire a taxi to take you to the Brooklyn Bridge. In Brooklyn you will walk briskly to the rail and without bothering to divest yourself of clothing, you will jump from the bridge. You'll heh, heh, like it in Brooklyn, Georgette. Got that, Georgette?"
Georgette nodded mechanically.
"Good," chuckled Sibyl. She snapped he: fingers. Georgette came out of her trance instantly. "Uh, good-bye for now, Miss Sibyl," she said, dabbing at her eyes again. "I'm off to Brooklyn for some reason. And from there I'll go to the Bridge -for some reason. Anyhow, good-bye -and thank you!"
"Don't," chuckled Sibyl, "thank me. Have a good swim -I mean trip."
And with that, Georgette, bowing and blowing kisses toward Sibyl, backed her way out of the office. I turned and sprinted silently down the corridor and then down the stairs to the Recreation Room.
Then I found Tony curled up in an easy chair watching TV. "Tony," I said, tugging at his peter to get his attention. "Tony, I'm new in New York. How far is the Brooklyn Bridge?"
"I don't know," said Tony, his eyes still glued to the TV screen. "Thirty or forty miles, maybe."
"Oh," I said. "Tony if a girl -a girl such as Georgette -jumped from the Brooklyn Bridge would she make it?"
"Of course not," said Tony. "Especially not Georgette. She can hardly swim a stroke, providing she didn't die when she hit the water."
"That," I said, "is what I figured, Tony. Those former Vestal Virgins and Pagan Choir Boys who came back to visit you and the rest of the gang just how well do you recall their visit?"
Tony turned and glared at me. "Do you have to talk while I'm watching Singalong With Larry? Well, let's see. The last old grad I saw was -Grace. I remember the occasion very well. I remember I got very drunk that night, went to my room and passed out for a while. Sort of wavering she was. And I remember her saying, in a real funny, kind of ringing voice, 'Don't beleive any of those awful rumors about nobody leaving this place alive, Tony. I left and I'm still alive -and happily humping a rich sugar-daddy, too. Then she seemed to waver and dissolve -I guess I was awful drunk -and that's the last I saw of her."
"Uh-huh," I said. "Tony, did it ever occur to you that maybe you didn't see any of the former Vestal Virgins and Pagan Choir Boys alive -that you merely got post-hypnotically suggested into thinking you'd seen them?"
"You're getting hump-happy," said Tony.
I didn't say a word. I just tiptoed out of the Recreation Room -I ripped one of the curtains off my window and tied it around me. It would pass for a wraparound skirt. I grabbed one of the silk cushions, tore apart the seams and poked two holes for arms, then pulled it over my head. It would pass for a poorly tailored silk blouse. The main thing was, I was dressed. True, I had no shoes -So I was a hippie!
I slipped out of my room and ran downstairs. Before me loomed the front door. I grabbed the door handle and twisted it and -wham! I was sitting on my ass five feet away, wondering what had hit me.
I got to my feet and grabbed the door handle again -and once again I was flung backward. Ob viously the door handle was hooked up to a highvoltage source. I glared at the door handle It it was made of glass! Even though I'd flunked high school physics, I remembered enough so that I knew glass couldn't conduct electricity. Which meant . . .
And at that moment the lights snapped on and there stood Sibyl, glaring down at me.
"So," she hissed, "you're already trying to escape. Though by the dazed, pain-ridden look in your eyes I see you've already discovered the strength of post-hypnotic suggestion number fourteen namely, that every time you try to open a door leading to the outside, you feel an imaginary current of high-voltage shooting through your twat. Fool! Nobody escapes me -alive. Follow me!"
"Like hell I will," I said. But even as I said it I was obediently climbing to my feet and following her. I followed her, reluctantly, all the way up to her office on the third floor.
There she turned and looked at me. Malignantly. "What," she said softly,"am I to do with you. Dee Dee?" She stared at me, then laughed. "It's obvious what you would like to do to me. You'd like to kill me, wouldn't you?"
She turned, took a wicked-looking knife out of her desk and handed it to me. "So kill me."
"With pleasure," I gasped, and shoved the knife right at her. Wham -the knife stopped halfway. Like it'd hit a wall of glass or something. I pulled it back and stabbed again and again. No use. I couldn't get the point within an inch of her soft, vulnerable tits. I just about wept with rage and frustration.
"Now," laughed Sibyl, "you realize that you are powerless to do me any physical harm. Post-hypnotic suggestion number forty-three -I gave you over a hundred post-hypnotic commands, by the way -prevents you from doing so. To repeat, what shall I do with you? You have just the kind of ripe, pagan pussy my depraved old whoremasters crave -yet there is a basic stubbornness in you. Proven by the fact that you are obviously resisting posthypnotic command number fifty-four, namely, that you should not suspect any of my actions."
I glared at her. She took the knife from me.
"So I'm posed with a problem. Should I attempt to tame you and brainwash you further -or merely dispose of you?" Her eyes gleamed with malignant humor. "I'd better dispose of you."
She turned, took a copy of the New York Times off her desk, and spread it carefully on the floor. "So your blood won't stain my carpet," she explained. She picked up a silk cushion, tossed it onto the center of the spread newspapers. "Kneel on that," she ordered.
"Like hell I will!" I snarled -but even while I was snarling my ass was obediently moving toward the pillow, then kneeling myself down on it.
"Sit back on your haunches," she commanded. I glared at her -and sat back on my haunches.
She handed me the knife again. "Grasp that with both hands," she commanded, "holding it so that the hideously sharp point is only inches from the lowest part of your soft, quivering belly, just above the triangle of your golden hairy bush. That's right. That's perfect. Now," she snapped her fingers twice, "obey post-hypnotic command number ninety-four." She snapped her fingers again. "You remember it, don't you?"
"No!" I gasped, but even as I gasped no I heard my own voice saying, in a real mechanical fashion. Post-hypnotic command number ninetyfour. I am a high class Japanese Geisha-girl who has disgraced herself. Consequently I am about to commit hari-kari.
"Good!" gloated Sibyl. "You remember. Now, commit hari-kari. You know how, don't you? A simple, two part movement. First you plunge the knife deep into the lowest part of your belly -then you bring it up with a sweeping cutting motion cutting yourself open from stomach to tits. Do so!"
"No!" I screamed, but even as I screamed I felt the muscles of my arms quiver -and then thrust inward. I felt the horribly sharp knife plunge deep, deep; into the lowest, most tender part of my body. I felt agonizing waves of pain shoot all through me as the sharp point plunged right into me until it all but grated against my backbone.
Through a red haze of unimaginable pain, I saw Sibyl standing in front of me with sadistic pleasure. "Finish the job!" she screamed. "Cut yourself open all the way!"
"I won't!" I screamed, at the same instant as my arms jerked forcefully upyard -slicing the razor-sharp blade up through the whole length of my middle, all the way up to my breastbone. I felt the pain as I'd never dreamed of, felt blood spurt out over my clenched fingers, felt excruciating waves of agony pulse through me even as blood splashed and ran down my body. A wave of suffering passed over me, and then a wave of paralyzed weakness as I felt my life's blood gush from my gashed belly and I fell, dying, backward.
Dimly, as if a million miles away, I saw Sibyl's twat standing over me -laughing. "Get up!" she ordered.
"I -I can't!" I gasped. "All -all my insides would fall out if I did. I'm cut open from middle to breastbone ..."
"Get up!" ordered Sibyl.
Slowly, I got up. Weakly. I looked down at my self. No blood. Not even a scratch on my stomach. I looked at the knife still in my clenched hands. No knife. Just a hilt without any blade.
"The knife I gave you," purred Sibyl, "was a stage knife. The blade disappeared into the hilt the moment you put presure on it. All the horrible, agonizing pain you felt -was in your mind. Planted by my post-hypnotic command!"
"No," I gasped, dropping the hilt of the knife and patting my stomach to make sure it was in one piece. "No -it can't be! I felt the knife go into me!"
"Indeed you did, child," said Sibyl. "In your mind. Obviously," she chuckled, "you have never read even the most elementary textbook on hypnotism. If you had, you'd know that one of the most elementary -and dangerous -demonstrations of hypnotism is that in which a subject's hand is plunged into a bucket of cold water -at the same time as the subject is told that the bucket contains boiling water. The result? The subject screams with agony and -believe it or not -his hand instantly turns bright red and swells into a mass of burn blisters. All induced -effectively -by the subject's mind. Compared to such an actual physical reaction, your imagined pain is as nothing."
I stared at her, still patting myself above my bush to make sure my belly wasn't all sliced up.
"Go to your room," she commanded. "And remember the futility of trying to disobey my commands. That stage knife I handed you could have been a real one -in which case your stupid fat stomach would now be sliced up all the way. Go to your room. And remember, nobody can flout the wishes of Sibyl -High Priestess of the Tabernacle of Cosmic Consciousness!"
What to do now? My situation sure looked hopeless. I couldn't so much as touch a doorknob lead ing to the outside without a bolt of electricity shooting through my sensitive vagina. Hypnotically induced electricity it might be -but just as painful as the real stuff to my. twitching cunny.
And I couldn't so much as lift a finger toward Sibyl -I'd found that out already.
All I could do was remain her helpless prisoner. Remain helpless while she hypnotized and brainwashed me more and more -until she'd turned me into just the kind of fuzzy-minded, ripe-assed Vestal Virgin she wanted.
For a few months. After which she'd dispose of me. Most likely to Jack, who'd torture me sexually in just about the most horrible, agonizing manner imaginable.
And there was nothing I could do. I couldn't escape -or even try to escape. I couldn't slug or bump off Sibyl. I couldn't, in short, do anything.
Unless, that is, I thought of something real clever . . .
And, being an imaginative sort of girl, I naturally thought of something. Real clever.
A week later Sibyl stood tiffly in front of her desk, staring hypnotically at the synthetic ruby (designed to decorate my navel) which I'd cleverly tricked her into staring at, and said. "That, oh Mighty Dee Dee, is the last of my business secrets"
"Good," I said, scribbling a last comment into the notebook with a snap and settled my ass-cheeks comfortably in her leather chair. Sibyl, meanwhile stood stiff and obedient before me.
"You know," I said, yawning and pouring myself a drink of her imported gin, "where the one weak point in your cleverly constructed defenses was?"
"No, Oh, Mighty Dee Dee," said Sibyl in a real mechanical fashion -using the intonation that both
Krotzov-Kalinsky and Gebrunheidt-Gheronsky emphasize is so typical of a subject in a deep hypnotic trance.
"Your one weak point," I said, sipping her imported gin thirstily, "was in permitting -nay, encouraging Sardar Parker to go to the New York public library twice a week, there to check out any books your Order might request. It never penetrated your thick twat-head that I might have him bring me all the textbooks on hypnotism that the New York library possessed. Or that I might study these to such good effect that I could hypnotize you. No," I said, pouring more of her gin into my glass, "you really goofed there. And as a result of your goof, I'm in the driver's seat now."
"Yes, Oh Mighty Dee Dee," intoned Sibyl.
"Precisely," I said. "Now do you remember post-hynotic command number eight?"
"Yes, Oh Mighty Dee Dee," said Sibyl, jerking her head forward in the subservient manner so perceptively dealt with by both Makolosky and Von Schidthaus in their textbooks on hypnotic trances. "I am to drive at once to Long Beach, walk to the beach, and then commence to swim toward Lisbon, Portugal."
"Start to carry out my swim order," I commanded her.
As Sibyl walked out of the door on her way to Lisbon, Portugal, I turned my attention to the wall safe in the office. I had gotten the combination from Sibyl during one of our hypnotic question and answer periods. I whistled when I saw the neatly stacked money in the safe. This was a profitable racket. I began to study the private name and address files of Tabernacle visitors and whistled some more as I recognized some prominent names in politics, the professions and the entertainment world.
Any other young girl in my position, who had sort of turned the tables on a miserable death that was scheduled for her in four months, would have pulled up stakes and lit out, but fast. But as you have probably gathered by now, I don't mind taking a chance, especially when there is a possibility of profit. And the Tabernacle of Cosmic Consciousness looked like the kind of business I had a natural talent for, since pussy played such an important part.
I picked up the public address system intercom mike on Sibyl's desk and flipped the switch. "All Tabernacle personnel will report to the main ~ lounge," I announced.
When the male and female Full Cocksters and Cuntessas were gathered before me, I announced that I was taking over the Tabernacle and that I would now be Dee Dee the Sacred Twatessa-They bowed and intoned that I was Dee Dee the Sacred Twatesa as I had expected them to, since I had transferred Sibyl's hypnotic control over them to myself. They were my complete slaves now, but at the end of four months I certainly wouldn't do to them what Sibyl had done. They were all much too good looking.
"Rejoice," I told them. "I am declaring a one day free-for-all fucking period for everyone. Anything goes, so have fun for twenty-four hours kids."
I motioned to prick-pusher number five of my hazing period, my friend, Tony. He was the one who had made bull-prick Vellick look like a midget.
"Come into my private office, Tony," I beckoned him. "There's some unfinished business I want to take up with you."
I laid my lush ass on the couch in my private office after telling Tony just what unfinished business I wanted him to take care of. I thrilled as his handsome, muscular figure embraced me and his lips nibbled my deep pink nipples. As I became more and more excited they became stiff and jutted out to almost twice their normal size. I wriggled my belly and blonde bushed steaming slit invitingly and sighed as Tony's lithe body decked me. His strong hands kneaded my hot ass and then cozily cupped my quivering buttock cheeks. My vagina began to drool copious pussy-juice as he cutely shoved his index finger up my asshole.
I felt his super-cock lustily straining in my hands and impatiently, lifted my knee. As I guided his tremendous dong into my soft, hot orifice, he lunged into me right up to his two testicles and I gasped at what this boy had on the ball, so to speak. All thought left me in a flurry of dick-driving thrusts by Tony, that I matched with my churning cunt. I let out a happy scream as Tony's huge tool thrust to a climax, ejaculating torrents of sizzling come into the Sacred Twatess. Tony groaned in ecstasy as I twitched my trained vaginal muscles like a mouth around the big head of his come dribbling cock and began milking the very last drop out of his pee-hole. My pussy was drenched with a mixture of my own come-juice and Tony's semen.
"This is good to the last drop," I sighed as my twitching cunt kept collecting his drops of cock cream.
I rested in Tony's strong arms and came back to earth again. I looked at his fabulous, unbelievable prick once again and saw that he certainly had what it took to give me the business. "With your talent boy, you may become The Sacred Cuntmaster of this joint -just keep plugging away," I encouraged Tony.
I, Dee Dee Summers the Sacred Twatess was content for the moment