Chapter 3
"Premier Building and Loan, Mister Alston's office. Oh yes, Mrs. Alston-yes, this is Roz. I'll get him right on, Mrs. Alston."
Roz punched two buttons, waited, told John Alston that his wife was on line two and instantly put down the phone before she heard a word of their conversation. Then she returned to folding mailers and stuffing envelopes, a mindless job that left her free to think.
John Alston was such a good man to work for. Such a... a nice guy, she thought. That summed him up best: a nice guy. Considerate, patient, seemingly always calm.
It isn't fair, she mused. It just isn't fair-what a shame that a man like that has to have such a-a lousy marriage! That fact had been apparent to her for a year at least; nice guy John Alston had definitely failed to marry a nice guy wife. And now it was even worse. Mrs. Alston was always ailing and when she called the office, Roz knew it was to make some complaint to her husband and ask him to pick up this or that prescription or patent medicine on his way home.
Rosalind sighed. It did not really occur to her that what John Alston needed and deserved was a giving woman-like Rosalind herself. It was where she was at, in a neo-slang that was already fading; it was her thing; she dug giving and doing for. That sort of relationship worked out well with Charlotte. Charlotte was happy to take.
But-Roz knew something was wrong. Char hadn't been so considerate. Oh, she had loved and brought Roz off, that lovely evening two nights ago. But she hadn't called since and that night she hadn't paid Roz a single compliment. Something was wrong; something had happened. Roz determined to be even more amenable and malleable. She had to keep Char...
... who dropped the bomb on her, three nights after that. Rosalind had been trying too hard to be agreeable and attentive and Char hadn't seemed to respond and at last Roz knelt at the bigger woman's feet and with her hands on her large thighs, asked what was the matter.
Char looked down at her. "OK. I don't think I should lie to you-I don't see why I should. We're both free. I've found a new lover. Or rather she found me."
"Char!"
"Oh stop. You knew we weren't permanent. She-"
"My God, don't tell me about her! I don't want to kno-o-ow!" Rosalind wailed. Her hands clutched at her lover's legs. "Char, Char-no... tell me you're just kidding!"
"I'm not just kidding. And stop scrabbling at my legs."
"CHAR!!"
The scene had grown worse, with Roz unable to control herself-and Char left.
Shattered, Roz cried and cried, beat her breast mentally and physically, told herself it was all her fault, cried some more, broke a little vase and then snifflingly cleaned up the mess, cried some more, vowed to kill herself, cried in sadness and sorrow for herself, poor Rosalind and at last wound down and washed her face. Then she called Char and she apologized and was soon pleading.
"All right," Char said coolly. "I'll come over Friday night."
"Come over for dinner."
"Nope. I'll be there at about eight. And I won't be staying over."
And Char hung up and waved a hand at the huge-titted redhead. "Get me an RC, slut. And then go put some more paprika on those nipples of yours. I like the way it looks-and it's about all worn off."
"B-but-but Char," the overbusted redhead said in a pleading little voice, "It stings, where you bit my nipple. It isn't healed yet."
Char had not yet taken her hand off the phone. She stared at her new playmate. Significantly, she let her eyes shift to the phone.
"All-all right, Char darling," the girl said-she was eighteen and all tight of skin and before Char, had made it only once, when a welfare woman had seduced her. She scurried, her big jugs jumping, naked, the way Charlotte liked them.
Rosalind looked forward to Char's coming over in the same way a girl does to the visit of a boy she's particularly fond of. She cleaned the entire apartment. Bought a pound of cashews, because Char loved them. Spent a lot of time deciding what to wear, then changed her mind and changed into something else. When the bell rang, she practically flew to the door.
Charlotte wore a loose green blouse and black jeans. Her stare froze Roz's arms even as they started out to embrace the big woman with the jet-black hair.
Only a few minutes passed before Roz asked what the new femme had that was so much better than she herself.
"For one thing, she's new."
"We can do new things!"
"Yeah," Char said, popping some cashews, "that's another point. I never even knew this was in me, but... Joanie digs playing tie-up games, you know and... I enjoy it."
"Tie-up games?" Big ash-gray eyes studied Char's face beneath frowning brows.
"Yeah. You know." Charlotte waved a hand. "Like, we play slave, or captor and captive. I tie her up. She's my slave. She has to do what I say. You know."
No, Rosalind didn't know, but she brightened. Her heart was pounding with hope when she said, "That sounds like fun!" She made it sound very enthusiastic and hoped she hadn't overdone it. "You've always been the decider, the director-that's just taking it a step further, isn't it?"
"Uh-huh." Char popped some cashews and licked greasy salt from her fingers.
"Well... well, let's us play slave-captive, Char! You-you just tell me what to do. I mean, I've never played before. But I was in a high school play. I know how to play roles. What should I do? What would you like to tie me with?"
Charlotte studied her. "Hmm. I... just don't... know, if you can... do it right. I mean... you're not slavish."
Licking her lips, Roz dropped to her knees and bowed her head. "I-I've been sent to you, Mistress," she said in a tiny voice. "I displeased the-the sultan!"
"Who wants the sultan's goddamned cock-slimy leavings?"
"The Baroness's, the baroness's," Roz corrected hurriedly. "She-she said I didn't obey fast enough, or lick her well enough and she sent me to you for... training."
Abruptly Char reached out and gave her a hard push, her hand against Roz's breasts, that toppled Roz backward. Her legs seemed to scream at the pull on her tendons, before she got them straightened from their kneeling position.
"I AM the Baroness," Char snapped.
"Y-yes Baroness," Roz said in an even tinier voice. "What-what is the Baroness's pleasure of her... her slave?"
"That you get up, groveling slut and go and bring me a pair of your stockings. And when you return, be naked. You have one minute."
After a moment's hesitation, Roz scrambled to her feet and flew to the bedroom of the little apartment. She popped a button in her sweaty hurry to undress. Jerking open a drawer and whipping out a pair of hose, she raced back to the other woman, breasts swinging. She paused, staring.
Char had stripped to open-crotched black panties. That is all. Roz had never seen the underpants before. They were extremely sexy. She stared at the way Char's bushy crotch bulged out of the opening. Oh-Char also wore black driving gloves.
"Stop staring, slave and hand me those stockings!"
Meekly, submissively, playing the slave, Roz did. Char bade her turn and put back her hands. She did. Soon the stockings were hurting her wrists, as Char bound her hands together behind her back. Turning her, Char roughly grasped one of the naked floppy tits of her slave. She squeezed, hard and with a gasp Roz looked down at the way the black-gloved thumb and fingers were contrasting with her breast, making it look pasty white, sinking into its malleable flesh.
"My other slave," the Baroness said, "is firmer."
Roz felt as if she'd been struck in the stomach. The words hurt long after the sound had faded from the air. She bit her lip and said nothing.
"Kneel, slave and let us see if your tongue is any better than it was before I sent you to detention! This time you can't use your hands- your mouth had better be good."
With her hands bound behind her, Roz nervously bent her legs and eased down onto her knees. She stared at the great black bush of the other woman's cunt and she tilted her head forward, slowly.
Suddenly, Char turned. She bent a little, planting her hands on the arms of the chair she had just quit. The black panties, Roz saw, were open in back, too, displaying the inner cheek curves and bifurcation of the brunette's backside. Char put back a hand and parted those large butt cheeks. "First the kiss of slavery, slave. A nice long lingering tonguey kiss!"
Roz had to please. She did it. Her nose slipped into the crack of Char's butt and she was grateful that the big woman had almost a fetish about staying clean. It would have been a good trick to have presented a smelly ass cleavage, Roz mused. But Char hadn't done that-she loves me, she's not going to be really nasty. It is just a game. Why-I don't mind kissing and licking her bottom at all! After all, I've kissed and licked the other side enough!
With her balance in constant danger because of her backbound hands, with her nose pressed necessarily into Charlotte's rearward cleavage, Roz began licking up and down the long crack, letting her tongue slide over the coiled little anus. She felt Char shiver and knew that what she was doing was good. Just on the point of proving her devotion and willingness by pushing her tongue into that little orifice, she remembered Char's reaction to her inserting a finger there and hurriedly changed her mind. She contented herself with licking.
While the big, stooping woman held her muscular ass cheek well apart from its mate, the kneeling slave let her hot flickering tongue move freely, titillatingly about between the cheeks, licking the valley of her mistress' ass, teasing at the tight little rosette that led to her elastic anal chute.
Abruptly Charlotte released her own buttock, which snapped against its twin in a way that slapped Roz's face and lightly pinched her nose. For a moment, her tongue was painfully caught. Then she resumed licking-but Charlotte straightened and turned so that once again she presented her fluffy bulge of curly black pubic hairs to the kneeling girl.
"All right, Clara Blow-now do me with that ass-licking tongue of yours!"
Roz did, bound and kneeling so that she could use only her mouth and tongue, resting her forehead now against the big woman's lower belly and then, twisting her neck a bit, against one meaty thigh.
She slid her tongue over the gently curving stomach, right over the nylon of the tight-fitting underpants and into the soft coal-black pubic forest. The fur was downy, the pink-tan lips like wet satin once she'd got her tongue in through the mass of hair, which she first had to slick down with her saliva. It smeared her mouth, her cheeks, her nose.
Her lover's feminine essence wafted to her nostrils and she liked it. She licked. Firm warm olive thighs quivered on either side of her face while the standing woman accepted the slavish tribute. Roz licked and licked, stabbed at the rising clitoris and rolled it under her stiffened tongue, stabbed it into the salty hole and slurped forth its rising sap. She licked and licked and she felt the tremble of the bracing thighs and she heard the moans Char tried to hold back and she licked and she made Char come faster than she ever had before in their entire six-month relationship.
Char's legs sagged. She collapsed back into the easy chair. Sitting there spraddle-legged and with her great chest heaving, she pressed a hand over her steaming mound. For long minutes there was no sound in the room save her own stertorous breathing. Roz's wrists tingled.
Then Char lurched to her feet. She bent to shove a hand into Roz's armpit-a nail scratching the round outward swell of her breast-and haul the girl to her feet. Roz groaned and winced.
"Muh-my wrists hurt. The stockings are so tight and cutting in-please, Ch-Baroness... "
"Turn."
She turned and was very grateful and filled with warm feelings and thoughts of love and triumph over that "Joanie", while Charlotte picked at the knots and got the silk stocking off her wrists. They tingled madly with the return of circulation, all the way down to her finger tips. Not over forcefully, Char slapped the smaller woman's naked bottom.
"Into the bedroom with you, slave and onto the bed. Lie face down. " Roz did that and was soon tied down, with a pillow doubled under her stomach, a little uncomfortably, as it lifted her parted bottom. Char teased her, slapped her bare butt a few times, tickled at her anus and at the opening between the lips of her never-opened cunt. Roz was nervous, but it was OK. Char wasn't hurting her, really. Char wouldn't hurt her. She was submissive and giving and she Wanted to keep her big lover-or get her back! When Char got off the bed and left the room, Roz wriggled a little and wondered... but she was tied down and she could only twist her head around and watch the doorway for the return of her big, dark-skinned lever-"mistress."
Char returned. Roz gasped and her eyes went very wide.
Before the other woman wagged a great, dark-brown shaft with a head larger than its stalk. It was strapped in place so that it appeared to be standing forth from the brunette's crotch. A false cock, a leather-covered something made to resemble a Negro's cock and affixed to a broad padded base and straps to turn a woman into a strange androgynous or bisexual creature with an instrument for fuckery. With Charlotte's big frame and height and the smallness of her tits, it was not so weird as that obscene instrument would have been strapped on Rosalind.
Char was grinning.
"Char! What-no! Oh no, you can't mean to-Char DENT!"
The pleading girl on the bed struggled desperately against the bonds holding each ankle and each wrist. She was powerless. She succeeded only in hurting all four limbs.
She continued pleading while, without a word, Charlotte mounted the bed behind her, between her widespread legs, behind her upturned bottom and behind the tight virginal pussy that seemed as to project invitingly backward, just at the edge of the pillow that propped Roz... into position.
With her leather-bound dildo standing up before her, not touching the girl's helplessly proffered bottom, Char smiled down at those plump, upturned demiglobes of firm-packed flesh. A good ass. A nice ass. A very pretty little ass, a couple of pale pouting balls of really choice meat. They were clenched together right now, in Roz's fearfulness-her natural, understandable fearfulness. The cleavage that plunged between the pale, almost white pinkness of the cheeks was all but invisible, just a pencil-drawn line down the center of a heartshape.
And below-that darling protuberant pussy, so sparsely furred, its two lobes so fat and swollen looking, so deeply pink and again the crevice between them was tiny. No big round hole at the bottom like the whores in the pictures Charlotte had looked at, chicks out in California picking up their bread posing for beaver shots with stupid grins on their faces and their legs forked ridiculously wide to allow a clear view into the depths of their yawning, hard-used pussies.
No, this was a tight little vagina, a virginal slit and Char was determined to end its virginity, just like a man who didn't give a shit about this chick-but who did give a fuck...
"You better think sexy, Roz baby, because it'll hurt if you aren't juiced up in there!"
"Char! No-NO! My God, not this way-if-if you want to open me up, OK, all-all right, I'll agree to it, for you, Char... but please please, please, not like this!"
"Just like this, Rosalinda! Just like this. Pretend I'm a man-and get fucked, baby."
"Char-NO!"
But Char was adjusting the aim of the broad, shining mahogany head of the false cock with her hand, which looked pale by contrast, for she liked the idea of a Negro cock, not a damned nasty pink one such as the one that had so painfully opened her up so long ago.
She set the big head just at the tender pink pulp of the well-rounded lips that swelled from the soft light down curling on the bound girl's flamboyantly arching and jutting Venus mound. She eased it forward, watching what she did with glassy-bright eyes, watching the petulant petals shrink aside, pushed away by the dildo's broad snout. She propped open that little mouth a little more, making sure she was firmly ensconced just inside. Red cunt meat appeared, glistening and ragged looking.
It'll be a lot more ragged in a minute, Charlotte thought.
She gathered herself, making sure she was kneeling well up and had slack to lunge forward. As if in love with its probe, the squirming, sobbing young woman's cunt now embraced the dildo's "glans penis," so that it remained in place in the soft vestibule of her uncharted cunt.
"Char-please, oh please don't do this-how CAN you, Char, how-GIIIEEE!"
With a grunt, Char had lunged forward.
The thick leather dildo shot forward between the reluctant lips and slammed its unyielding, insensitive head into a hymeneal barrier thick enough to have brought pain to the head of a man's cock. It stretched, gave, tore, ripped and the leather cock smashed through the virginal barrier in that one swift hard-hunching lunge.
Roz's cry was at the pain of the stretching of her maidenhead; when it tore, the pain was so great that it took her breath away and she faded into an eerie silence. Charlotte worked her broad hips, making sure her big cock was all the way in the girl.
My cock, she thought. My cock. My cock. I'm fucking the little dummy with my big invincible cock, just like that guy fucked me behind Mom and Dad's store!
Her eyes glazed. She lost sight of what she was doing. What she saw behind her suddenly opaque eyes was herself, being raped that time ten years ago and now she saw herself as the man who had done it and who had obviously enjoyed it so much. She rocked her hips and snapped her big buttocks back, then forward in a swift second stroke. And again and again. Sending her cock in and out of the virginal hole, swiftly and deeply, again and again.
Lying almost still but for her shuddering and uncontrollable twitching, the impaled girl only sobbed and made wretched throat-tearing noises and was fucked.
The dildo was now smeared with blood, naturally. The twenty-five-year-old hymen had developed a toughness and it hadn't been thin. Blood trickled from Roz's cunt onto the sheet of her own bed while her cunt seemed to gasp around its invader and her face screwed and writhed in agony.
As if in a trance, Char kept fucking her.
Look at my cock going in and out of that tight virgin pussy!
The girl twitched, jerked, convulsed under the hammering might of the bigger bod against her silken skin. Her bonds hurt her when her body tried to close up, to seek refuge in the fetal position it could not achieve. She felt her tears spurt, felt blood suffuse her face as her rapist sank cock deep in her guts and ground it in with writhing hips and tightening buttocks.
The swollen, leather-wrapped head of Char's cock was imprisoned in the excruciating grip of the girl's belly, her cloven loins, carnally distended by that terrible shaft: leather wrapped and secured over a wooden dowel.
Steadily moving in the ancient movements of rearward fucking, Char reached up to begin pinching her own nipples until they quivered and stiffened and rose, red and spearing like little twigs. She pinched and pressed, squeezed and rolled them some more, all the while hunching to shove her thick brown blood-smeared cock in and out, in and out of the painfully distended soft inner flesh of the sobbing young woman's vagina.
The flow of blood eased off, but the driving dildo kept the skin raw and open so that it oozed.
In and out Char pounded, brutalizing the widespread burrow that had remained closed for so many years, stabbing her up the belly with that bulky, hard stick that was her own lewdly rutting cock.
Her victim whimpered, sure her bound, pillow-lifted body was being torn to pieces by the violent, wild fucking. The agonizing young woman could feel the straining, the back-and-forth abrading, the stretching, the forcible dilation of her narrow little furrow. She had an awful vision of its splitting before the pressure and of blood spurting in crimson gouts from her pussy, which was turning into a gaping, luridly red and ragged wound.
There was no chance of that, of course. The dildo was seven inches long-actually marked off into twelve-plus centimeters, like a round ruler and from behind this way there was no chance of its all being enveloped in the untrammeled deeps of Roz's cunt. Molded like a cock, it was also an inch and a half in diameter, meaning some four and a half inches around, hardly so thick as many male hard-ons.
That information would have been of value to the brutally fucked Rosalind, who was trying to hurl her previous awful thought from her reeling brain.
Bracing herself, she clenched her teeth and held her breath and was raped.
A man would have come swiftly in that tight, blood-hot vagina. But there was no feeling in Char's organ-and very little in Char herself as she ceaselessly lunged and lunged. Panting, she kept on skewering her former lover's new hole. The alarm clock on the table beside the bed, Roz noticed, had ticked off six minutes since she'd been entered. The pain subsided. She felt herself approaching numbness, wished it would hurry and come upon her and envelop her torn pussy in unfeeling anesthesia.
It did not, though the pain did grow less and less. Nine minutes. Ten and still Char strongly fucked her.
Though it was the big olive-skinned woman's intent to be vicious and give pain, to fuck her former lover into insensibility, she failed. She should have stopped after the destruction of Roz's hymen and the first ten or so in-and-out draggings of the ruptured vagina over her unyielding shaft. Every birth since the beginning of mammalian life on the planet proved anew the tensile strength, the ability of a vagina to expand and accommodate itself to any sort of dilation. Elsewhere in their same city, women and girls of various ages were being reamed at this same instant by cocks bigger than the fake leather one Char wore and most were enjoying the sensation.
Despite the roughness of the rearward fuck and her mental anguish, Roz began to realize that she was turning on to the strange new experience of her body's being propped open to house a foreign object that shuttled in and out, expanding her, inwardly massaging her, pressuring her clitoris with its glidings...
She'd have thought it impossible.
It began to feel good. She began to sigh. No male rapist could have given her this experience-he'd long since have come.
Beads of sweat shone on the forehead Char could not see as her victim's ecstasy rose and built up until she was jerking as if in sensual convulsions. Half-blind in her unsane rage of fucking, Char thought it was pain.
No longer a victim, the bound girl panted and jerked in a desperate seeking to assuage the lust that now flushed her pink-and-white skin.
The brutally fucked and now wildly fucking young woman plastered her tits into the bed and ground them there with a strong arching of her back. She writhed her body in carnal bliss. Her surging, gulping love nest ensnared and ensleeved the lewdly ramming horn of leather.
And then Roz... came.
That phenomenon snapped Char out of it. She ceased, streaming sweat and panting violently and stared down at the girl she should have been hurting-and had instead sent into the spiraling pink grip of orgasm-by fucking her for sixteen minutes nonstop.
She covered swiftly. Char laughed, sneered.
"So you like fucking, hmm, you little whore? you love it, don't you? Well, get yourself a man, slut. You can't have MY cock anymore!"
She yanked her hips back. Sssshawwkhh!-and the dildo, blood washed by the vaginal juices that dribbled from it, emerged from that ravaged orifice. Roz cried out and Char was happy to have given her some new pain. Almost, she shoved her cock back in-but she decided against it. To hell with the little dummy.
She unstrapped her dildo, wiped it on a towel from Roz's tiny bathroom and slipped it back into her big purse. Returning to the bedroom, she used a kitchen knife to cut loose both Roz's ankles. Then, after thrusting a ballpoint pen into the girl's still-virgin anus and a spray can of deodorant into her still-gaping cunt, Rosalind's former lesbian lover left her.
Over two hours passed before Roz was able to get herself free and by that time her left wrist was bleeding and both of them were covered with deeply etched red marks from the sawing of the nylon stockings that had bound her.
With great care she eased the ballpoint out of her anus; her cunt had already expelled the deodorant can. Stumbling, walking carefully because she was sore, she went into the bathroom and turned the hot water tap on full in the tub. She added only a little cold.
Roz drank but little, though she kept alcohol on hand. The slug of Scotch nearly tore her throat out, but it gave her something else to think about, for awhile; a new pain. She poured bath oils into the water rising in the tub.
Two hours in that steaming tub full of soothing oil took away all physical pain. Mentally, she was miserable. Char had tricked her, used her, deliberately hurt her. She hadn't tried to bring on that delightful orgasm Roz had enjoyed. And what did it mean? That she liked impalement? That she enjoyed being fucked? Had she been in error all these years, turning away men and turning down offers of dates? Was she... was she not homosexual at all? All her sexual experience had been with her own sex. No male had so much as kissed her. No male hand had ever fondled her. And now...
"She's gone!" she remembered and she sobbed, great tears rolling down the valley of her breasts and into her bathwater.
Char was gone. And Rosalind needed her. Needed somebody; she needed a relationship, needed to give. She began thinking of women. Already she had thrust out of her mind the fact that she enjoyed being fucked, long and hard, half out of her gourd with pleasure-and coming.
She was sore in a half dozen places next day and she called in sick. The marks on her arms looked as if she'd tried to kill herself. Again she had a long, long soak in the tub full of hot water overly laced with oil. Her brain churned and whirled, raced and staggered, with thoughts racing in and out like a stampede of flame-fearful jungle animals. Nothing really came of it-other than her resolve not to call Charlotte, never to call Charlotte and to take refuge in and with herself. She would avoid contacts, any sort of relationship. And she would give up sex, forever.
By the following night she had smeared her vibrator with Vaseline and was anxiously pumping it in and out of her sobbing vagina. It didn't make her come. Only her own fingers on her clitoris did. But within the month she was helplessly addicted to fucking herself with the vibrator and wishing she had the nerve to buy a dildo like Char's. She hadn't.