Chapter 13
It was past two o'clock in the morning when the first of them, lying spent and recumbent where they had collapsed, began to stir. They were Thys and Alouetta van Grondwijk.
Surprisingly lightly for people of their bulk, they tiptoed up, felt for their clothes, and minced their way over the mass of bodies toward the door.
Two alone, in that room, saw them go.
One was Capt. Jackson Willoughby. His senses were so trained to the alert in the face of every danger, real or imagined, and every unusual situation, that Alouetta had barely inched her vast womanhood to a standing position before he was aware of it. Being aware, he decided to watch her departure from his position, recumbent now, over the naked and glorious body of Felicity Velda.
He did not relax the even rhythm of his breathing by so much as a single quicker aspiration.
As Jackson Willoughby felt the van Grondwijks leave he felt the body of Felicity stir beneath him. He silently rolled over and off his beautiful prisoner of love. Without uttering a word, the two of them collected up their scattered clothing and, stepping warily, trailed the two Hollanders into the adjoining bedroom.
Capt. Willoughby sensed that Felicity no longer wanted him, sexually. There was something else now.
He took Felicity's elbow as they stepped delicately over the tangle of bodies, some nude, some semi-nude, their garments awry and creased over their twisted bodies. And, the door of the bedroom scarcely closed behind Thys and Alouetta, Capt. Willoughby opened it again.
In the Maze of sudden light, Felicity seemed to the captain to have become wide-eyed, and in the grip of an obsession he could not fathom. It intrigued him.
Thys and Alouetta turned. They had eyes only for Felicity.
"Please," said Felicity. She spoke the word haltingly, imploringly. Her lovely arms were extended before her at shoulder-level, in an eloquent gesture of supplication. Beneath those arms, the fulness of her superb breasts, now raised, was divinely apparent. Her torso heaved and collapsed, betraying the intense emotion under which she was labouring.
"Felicity 1" said Alouetta, gently. And Thys said: "Why, child, what's the matter?"
"The matter," breathed Felicity passionately, "is that I want you two-so very much!"
"Sexually?" asked Alouetta.
"Sex!" howled Felicity. "No! Not now. Any more sex, tonight, would revile me-digust me! But the baroness said-Lillian said, that you two... Ah, sweet Jesus-can't you see, please! I implore you... the whip! I want the whip! Please, Thys,-Alouetta-won't you? She quivered, throbbing, in the grip of her emotion.
"The whip?" echoed Thys, naked, magnificent. "Now? This minute? Do you realise it is past midnight?"
" Midnight-schmidnight!" screamed Felicity, howling 128 like an animal. "When you want it, you gotta have it! Don't you understand?"
How could they, accomplished in the art of flagellation, not understand ? They knew. An unspoken exchange of words took place between husband and wife.
Thys reached for the heaving, undulant body of the actress. He drew her toward him. "But do you realise, child-the cries! The torment! It's past midnight! We'll be heard-and if we are, what of that, hey?"
"Ill be brave!" squealed-Felicity. "I'll utter no sound! But please, Thys-Alouetta-please, whip me!"
"Nobody can be brave, Felicity," said Thys, imperious as he added, "when it is I, Thys van Grondwijk, who wields the lash!"
"Then let's go somewhere-the beach!" panted Felicity. "What about the beach? Nobody's there-at this hour?*"
"The beach," Jackson Willoughby put in, "is out. She'll scream. With this whip business, they always do. One scream-somebody picks up a phone-and in two minutes the cops are on our backs.
Felicity shuddered, involuntarily, in anticipation.
Willoughby went on: "I think I've got a better idea. About three miles from here, on the back road to Nice, I've got an old glass-house. Side-line of mine. I had a partner once, in the flower business-you know, carnations and stuff. Well, it didn't work out. But I've still got the property. The sheds are empty now, but they're still there. And I've still got the keys."
"But how'll we get there?" asked Thys. "Taxi? At this hour?"
"Personally," said Captain Willoughby. "I was thinking of the bus. And that fellow, Istvan. I like the boyand that girl of his, Althea."
Wonderfu!" beamed Alouetta. "Good idea. Tho* two have a great capacity for new experience." "That's the way I feel about them." While he went black to the salon to wake Istvan ant Althea, Thys poured a stiff round of cognacs. "This'l wake us up," he grinned, as he passed the drinks around He stopped before the still-nude Felicity. The actress') eyes were bright, her lips parted-her whole frame tensed by anticipatory excitement
"Your dress," he commented, thoughtfully. "You have something in satin?"
"Not the white," said Thys. "Go put on the whispered.
"I've one in black and white-both satin," she black one. And nothing-nothing at all underneath."
Felicity quivered, gloriously, at the thought This was a perversion in which she often indulged, preferring, when this mood was upon her, to stroll provocatively up some crowded avenue or boulevard like the Cor so, or the Via Vencto-some street alive and vibrant with thousands of jostling people. The more people the betteramong whom she could flaunt her glorious, unconfined body, her lovely woman-nakedness.
Felicity swallowed her cognac at a single gulp as Istvan and Althea, followed by the captain, arrived.
"Right" said Alouetta. "Go and change. Don't be long. Then come to our room-it's number 307. That's where we'll meet."
Within five minutes, they were gathered in the Van Grondwijks' apartment
The buxom, superbly-fleshed Alouetta was at that moment divesting herself of brassiere and panties and as she dropped these items to the floor, she swung about, stark naked once more.
She was an awesome sight. Her enormous breasts stubbed forth, twin mountains of white meat, from her waistless trunk. A sparse triangle of cunt-hair arrowed down at the junction of her thighs. Everything about her was enormous-her belly, her buttocks, and, above all, her breasts, each with their chocolate-circled nipple, risen now to nut-like hardness as she faced the others.
She reached into a cupboard and selected one of several black satin gowns. Drawing this from its hanger, she slid it over her head, smoothing it down, alt the way, over her massive body.
The skirt was slit to the hip, and, parting as she moved, revealed the whole of one enormous, trunk-like leg, startling in its whiteness against the black of her dress. The gown fitted like a second skin. She might have been wearing nothing at all.
Thys opened a dresser and took out a long, Hat case, silver-butted around the corners. From the case he drew out three wicked-looking whips.
The first was a short-thonged riding-crop, flexible only toward the tip as it tapered to a point twenty-four inches from its handle, a whip of the type they call a sjambok in South Africa, made from an elephant's penis.
The second whip had a short silver-and-leather handle, from which cascaded a number of foot-long thongs.
The third was a whip used by circus ringmasters. Long-handled, it tapered to a six or seven-foot thong which fell to the floor and snaked ominously at its tip.
Felicity's eyes glazed in lust.
It was two o'clock in the morning by the time they reached the sheds, on a plot about four hundred yards back from the roadside. They were now in the main shed. Captain Willoughby turned the light on.
But Thy* demurred. "Switch it off," he commanded.
There was enough illumination in the full moonlight coming through the glass walls of the shed.
Felicity was now obviously in the grip of her obsession. Her glorious figure writhed and undulated under her gleaming satin dress, in an ecstasy of expectation. Alouetta too, nerve centres of memory recalling to her a score and more of such experiences, was slack-mouthed, breathing heavily, panting lustfully.
Felicity stood a moment or two, then impulsively came to Thys van Grondwijk. She threw her arms around the massive Hollander, grinding her pelvis into the man's loins.
"Take mc!" she sobbed. "Ravish me, Thys! Ah, but I'm so ready for it-so randy for it! Ill be good-I'll be brave! I promise!"
She reached for his vast hands and drew these to her hot, hard-nippled breasts, cupping each bosom into a single hand. She wriggled and pressed herself seductively against him.
But Thys brushed her peremptorily away.
He tossed the whips to a working shelf which extended the full distance of each wall of the shed. The centre of the abandoned shed was bare.
Then he stripped his shirt from his huge, powerful torso. He stood only in bis trousers. Alouetta's eyes dilated in pride and in the wonder with which she always responded to the fleshy nakedness of her man. She dropped to one knee, encircled her husband's hips with hungry arms, and buried her face into his groin, feeling the semi-hardness of his erection through the material of his trousers.
"Ah, Thys?" she moaned. "Me? Me, first?"
Thys's smile bespoke the detachment which comes with complete control of a man over his body and his mind. Gently he pushed Alouetta's face from where she slobbered into his hips.
"No," he said, with finality. "Felicity first. You know what it's all about. She doesn't. She might scare off. Your turn'11 come, skat!"
"Oh, but I do-I do know what it's all about," sobbed Felicity. "Five times already. But never once by an expert-never yet I Amateurs! Botchers-people who didn't know what they were doing!"
"Get over there, then," commanded Thys. "Thereagainst the shelf. That's right. Turn around-face the wall. Now grip those two uprights. Grip them-hard! Don't let go!"
He took up the largest of his three whips. It was the whip used by circus ringmasters. Expertly, he tested it for balance. Then, with no more than the flick of an upraised arm, be caused a clap that echoed through the shed like a rifle-shot.
Felicity quivered, her buttocks jouncing beneath the smooth garment she wore.
Thys raised his arm once more. He turned, imperceptibly. Then, with incredible speed for so gargantuan a man, he snaked the thong suddenly, viciously, toward the quite unprepared actress.
A second clap rang out simultaneously with the biting of the leather for the first time, deeply, cruelly, into the flesh of the girl's twin buttocks, falling horizontally across both cheeks, cutting a livid weal equidistantly along the curve of both arsecheeks. The cruel pain of it was worse, even, than was the sudden, totally unexpected shock of it. Felicity was powerless to prevent an agonised scream of anguish. She twitched, body jerking, and as she started to collapse, Thys struck again. The flexible thong shot forward. A second deeply-incising weal was laid, a half-inch below the first, in the very instant before the astonished girl fell to the ground.
She screamed in anguish at the unbearable pain of it. She turned her enormous, imploring eyes upon Thys. But, incredibly, her look seemed to say: "Go on! Don't stop!"
Thys, master of his merciless craft, recognised that look.
"Get up!" he flung at her. "You wanted it! Get up then, bitch-and take it!"
Few men had ever spoken to the pampered Felicity like that. Yet, submissively, she struggled weakly to her knees. And, as she stretched forward her arms to reach the two upright posts, Thys struck, cruelly, once again.
This time he made searing contact with the very tip, the last quarter-inch of the thong. The whip met the satin and bored like a hole probed by a red-hot poker tip into Felicity's left arse-cheek, naked beneath its single layer of satin.
The pain must have been unbearable. Jackson Willoughby winced.
Felicity flung back her lovely head, tears streaming from her eyes. But she was smiling, ethereally. She was on her feet once more, gripping the upright posts, her fingers balled into white-knuckled fists around the wood.
Thys motioned Captain Willoughby and Istvan to either side of the quivering girl. Silently, they flanked her.
Then the flagellant let go two more mighty, searing lashes, placing them expertly one above and the other one beneath the two he had inflicted previously. The speed of their coming was so swift as to make their twin thunderclaps seem simultaneous.
Felicity shuddered. She quaked in pain and agony.
And, as she shuddered, she felt the sudden, insistent approach of orgasm-the wildest, most demonic she had ever known. She felt, in her cunt, the outpouring of her womanfluids. She threw back her head, and screamed in the agony of both pain and of her coming.
"Aaah-h-hl Oooo-ooh-oohl Ah, sweet God in Heaven -but this is unbearable! Only go on, Thys! Go on, for the sake of Fuck itself!"
Twice more, and mightily, Thys lashed at her. Then he stepped back the merest trifle on the balls of his feet. Poised perfectly, he sent a second of those darting final quarter-inch stings deep into the centre of the globe of Felicity's other arse-cheek.
She had now endured eight lashes, six of them searing, horizontal cuts. Thys knew that she could take only one more. He motioned Istvan and the captain to support the writhing, tormented, tortured girt-for she had slipped down, archbacked, slumping forward between the posts.
A drenching torrent of piss burst from her cunt.
"Oh, noo-oo-o-o!" she sobbed. "No-o-o! What are you doing to me, Thys ? I'm so randy-I'm coming-I'm pissing myself, I'm pissing!"
Althea gazed, wide-eyed herself now, upon the unbelievable ritual. Her own cunt was an inferno of desire, of violent, turbulent libido. But there was no release for her. Istvan and Jackson Willoughby were both occupied, supporting the tortured Felicity. Only Alouetta was available.
Althea sank to the concrete floor, dragging at Alouetta. She snaked her hand up the slit skirt of the enormous Dutchwoman, darting her fingers to the cunt. Silently Alouetta fell to the floor at the side of the raving Greek girl, acceding to the wordless request implicit in the caressing fingers at her crotch. Althea felt for the gaping, parted cunt, sloshy already with pre-come, and Alouetta closed her thighs rapturously over the captured, caressing fingers.
Thys now poised for the final, ninth stroke. He raised his arm slowly to shoulder-level. Then he let it fall and his powerful wrist sent the thong snaking out toward the black satin back arched before him.
It was the cruellest blow of all. This time the leather landed with the full final twelve inches over the girl's back. It landed in the form of a great S. It was a mighty lash. As the thong swished idly, after impact, to the floor at the piss-wet feet of the actress, she arched forward suddenly, demented and consumed in the throes of the most violent orgasm she had ever experienced. In violent, body-jerking paroxysms, she writhed and jetted load after load of her coming into the urine-soaked crotch of her black satin frock.
And as she thrashed about, torn violently from the grasp of her two captors by the fury of her spending, she became totally incontinent, suddenly discharging into her gown a brown turd of steaming, stinking shit!
Thys, his mighty chest pouring sweat, laid down the great whip.
Alouetta now sprang forward, obscenely facing her husband, over the quivering body of Felicity. Feverishly she tore at her corsage, dragging it down so that fram her frock her two monumental mammaries sprang out, their nipples hard and aching in erection.
"Me, Thys! Me now-my turn!" she pleaded.
Beneath her, Felicity lay, still now in her ordure of piss, shit, and spunk. She had discharged, absolutely and utterly, from every orifice in her body.
Thys selected, now, the vicious-looking "cat"-that many-thonged instrument of torture so beloved of his wife. Wickedly he drew it back, and suddenly shot the snaking thongs out over the massive dts of his wife, bared now in her urgency. Alouetta shuddered.
Then, cupping each vast mound, she offered the majesty of her mammaries to the second lashing stroke. It snaked home to its twin targets, and angry red weals showed now, criss-crossing each breast. Tomorrow they would be purple. Alouetta shuddered again, bringing her thighs together in ecstasy to close the two labia over her raging, throbbing clitoris. She tore at her frock as the third lash descended. In a second she stood before them in stark nakedness. Then she collapsed to the floor, moaning.
Thys motioned the captain forward. "Part her arsecheeks," he commanded. "And get into her!"
Swiftly the captain stripped, tossing his garments over on to the shelf. He rolled the enormous, palpitating mass of Dutch womanhood over on to her back.
"Why the arse?" he grinned, impudently, "when she has all this?" He gestured to her huge cleft.
"Have it your way, then," said Thys. "Only that she loves one up the rectum when she's getting the whipthat's all. But suit yourself. Only-just don't get in the way I"
Alouetta, thrashing about upon the floor, instinctively parted her thighs to receive the erected penis probing for entry. And, as the entire length of the captain's staff vanished up her twat, Thys sent the third lashing down over the bare and exposed tits of his wife.
"Don't move!" he commanded Captain Willoughby. "Just you stay inside. Arch your back. Get out of the way of the whip. She'll do all the work you'll be wanting-just you keep dead still and enjoy it, manl'
A fourth vicious swish of the nine-tailed whip, and a further filigree of weals started from the huge, deadwhite mounds of his wife. And, with each successive paroxysm of pain wracking her body, the Dutchwoman clenched, even more tightly, her clamping cunt upon the prick inside it.
And then, with the very next unbearable lashing, the great woman suddenly erupted, like some vast volcano, into orgasm. The writhing of her mighty bulk brought the captain into sudden ejaculation as well. She was clutching at his tool within her cunt, sucking from him his palpitating discharges of hot, bubbling semen.
Now it was Istvan who could contain himself no longer. Senses confused by what he had seen-this strange, forbidden ritual in which two women had been flogged into sexual orgasm-he reached for Althea. The well-remembered contours of her eager young body, long since stripped for sexual participation, fell into his grasp. He clutched at her as she rolled beneath him to receive his aching penis.
As the two of them coupled, Thys van Grondwijk ripped off his flannels. He advanced, menacingly, upon the violated body of Felicity Velda.
Thys lifted her up as if she were weightless. Holding her as a father holds a baby, he unzipped her frock and threw the befouled garment, recking of piss, spunk and shit, into a far corner of the shed. Then he carried the limp, unprotesting actress over to a faucet and turned on a full stream of cold water.
The water was cleansing and refreshing. As it cascaded over her body, Felicity revived. She lay, limp and relaxed, as Thys laved her tenderly.
He marvelled at the superb contours of her incom parable physique. Each breast was a masterpiece. la every curve of belly, of buttock or of thigh, Felicity Velda was perfection itself. Thys found his cleansing becoming a caress.
Beneath his gentle hands, Felicity came to consciousness, and as Thys played the water from the faucet over her ravaged buttocks with their angry, fiercely-red weals, she began to feel desire once more.
She was thus more than ready when Thys set her down, lightly, upon her feet-and drew her woman-flesh to himself in an embrace surprisingly tender. She felt his prick hot and throbbing as it lay vertically up her belly. She sighed.
Instinctively she spread her legs and Thys, crouching now, but stilt standing balanced on his feet, plunged his thickened root, a thing of incredible girth, into her dripping bush. It slid through the angle of wet cunt-hair, then, making contact with the parted labia, it encountered the welcoming oiliness of Felicity's receptivity.
Wordlessly she gave herself to him, exulting in his enormous penis deep within her vulva.
Suddenly Thys hoisted the girl by her hips. Without decunting, he held her before him, boring into her now on straightened legs, as she wrapped her thighs about his waist, locking her crossed feet over his back. And it was in this position that they completed their fuck.
Mischievously she flicked at Thys* drooping penis as he slid it, semen-dripping, out of her twat. Even slack it was a thing of preposterous size, and she thrilled to the realisation of what she had contained within her.
On tiptoe-she went to the tap again, and the copious strands of come sliding down her opened, parted thighs were washed away in the stream of water.
None had heard, as they drove back in the early dawn, the putt-putt-putt of the Lambretta. behind them. Nor could they see the smirk of satisfaction on the face of its driver, Dino Carotti...