Chapter 16
By the time they had reached Avignon the heat had become withering.
Not all the ice-cubes mat Althea's tiny little refrigerator could produce was sufficient to cool the drinks that everybody was demanding. Up and down the aisle went Althea, bearing emptied glasses to the little galley, there to rinse them and re-charge them for the perspiring passengers. And up and down the aisle they passed her, in their turns, to the tiny toilet situated in the rear.
To cope with the heat, Althea had opened all the vents to maximum, so that air swirled, forcefully and cool, through the interior.
She wore the bare minimum of clothing. Her nylon blouse, a flimsy, transparent garment, opened to deep below the cleavage of her luscious, triumphant tits. Through the thin material, each breast was dearly visible in all its full, nubile statuary. She had scorned a brassiere, and her youthful body bobbed, entirely unbound, to each movement of the bus. Her uniformed skirt was her only concession to her "position*' of tour courier. Beneath this skirt she wore no panties, and her hot twat was clothed only in the sanitary pad which she found herself frequently obliged to change.
Her passengers were, many of them, equally bared to the current of cooling draft that swirled through the bus. Most of the women wore thin nylon, cotton, or silk blouses, almost all of them opened and totally unbuttoned.
Alouetta and Berenice were forced into wearing of brassieres, solely for the support these gave to their mammoth tits against the lurching and bounding of the vehicle.
Hildegarde, in a central rear seat, had gone furthest of all in her quest for relief. She had discarded any semblance of upper garment. Her huge tits jounced bare to the breeze, and her unzipped skirt indicated she was bare of panties as well. She was sitting, naked to her waist, between Thespie Jones and Rhoda Langtry who, like Althea herself, wore nothing beneath the lightest and most gossamer-revealing of blouses.
Never had Althea seen so much tit exposed publicly in the full light of day-so much flaunting of breast and bosom, and all of it flaunt?" so uncaringly. She remarked as much to Istvan, bearing him a can of chilled beer.
"Take a look in your mirror," she whispered, softly. "All that tit! Have you ever seen so many naked bubs in your bus in all your life I"
Istvan grinned, gesturing with an eloquent look towards Althea's own exuberant mounds, straining below the flimsiness of her blouse.
"Sure it wasn't the way you're got up that started it?" he asked.
She directed a glance down her own corsage, proud and reassured by what she saw.
"But look at Hildegarde, there in the back! She's gone the whole hog-Christ, she's bare to her crotch, I'll swear!"
Istvan reached for a moist handkerchief on the dashboard shelf. "I don't blame her," he said, mopping his brow. "God, but it's hot. The people want to stop for lunch, do you think?"
Althea took up the little microphone.
"Your attention, please," she announced, her voice falling musically through the ceiling loud-speakers. "Istvan, here, has a problem. He wants to know if you want a luncheon stop. There are plenty of excellent restaurants just off the main road around here. Shall I count hands?" She stood up and faced the passengers.
"Press on," called Reginaldo, limply. "I'm so exhausted, I could die, right here!"
"On we go," said the baroness, finally, when nobody spoke.
Althea took up the microphone again.
"That seems to settle it," she said. "In the meantime, I've some champagne, chilled, and a few cans of beer. Then there's some cheese, some cold sausage, some pickles, and one or two nice fresh rolls. Ill serve these in a moment."
They ate, then lay back, languid suit, but refreshed. Althea came forward to her courier's seat. Wordlessly she relaxed and watched the rolling Chateauneuf countryside disappearing behind them.
At last the turretted rococo outlines of the Chateau Cloisy itself came into view. Minutes later, the bus rolled to a smooth, unfelt stop outside a proud sweep of noble stairs. At their foot, Hermann von Wildersee awaited his guests. They trooped now, wearily, down from the vehicle, following the baroness.
He eyed them quizzically beneath a delicately arched brow as they were presented.
"You poor people," he murmured solicitously as his roving eye took in the deshabille of all, particularly the women, while his expression betrayed nothing but the utmost in suave, cultured hospitality. "You seem utterly exhausted!"
"The hottest day of the year," said the baroness. "And such a long stretch!"
"Still, you made it," smiled Hermann von Wildersee, as he helped the final straggler, Hildegarde, to earth. She was wearing a blouse by now, shirtwise, but loose and open to the very bottom button, leaving her shuddering tits naked to the gaze of anyone who cared to look. "Let's see if we can find something to cool you off with."
While servants busied themselves with baggage, he led his guests to a vast porch, screened in with netting, and set on the windward side of the gracious old home. The weary tourists sank gratefully into easy chairs.
Tall drinks appeared. Iced gin mixtures, with cubes tinkling in long, squash-filled tumblers. Champagne, in buckets of crushed ice. Chilled beers. Von Wildersee saw to everybody's comfort.
"When you've recovered," he said, finally, "I suggest a drive down to the river. Perhaps a swim. Meanwhile -welcome to Cloisy, all of you."
Carotti set down his glass.
"That was splendid," he said. "That swimming idea sounds like another winner."
"Not for me," said the baroness.
"You, Felicity? Theophilus? Berenice? Van Grondwijk? Anybody?"
"Count me in," they chorussed, already recovered from the fatigue of the journey.
The pool at Chateau Cloisy was a remarkable piece of engineering.
The'prince had made what use he could of what was, in fact, a natural pool-into which the Rhone tributary flowing through his estate began to widen just below the chateau itself. Using bulldozers, he had diverted the stream, leaving the pool itself free to drain. Then he had lined the entire bed in concrete, tiled it, and reset the course of the strongly-flowing stream into the basin he had constructed.
He allowed the setting to remain undisturbed-a sylvan glade of rich, lush, close-cropped grass, sun-dappled in the shadow of great elms, willows and all the natural greenery of the place. The effect was that of an Elysian fairyland.
Rhoda and Thespie were first to strip. Casting their few garments over the lawn, they raced naked, titties abounce, into the cooling water.
Jackson Willoughby helped Althea to undo her backfastening skirt-zip. Then he stiffened into sudden surprise, as did Von Wildersee, to see her crotch encased in the stark and unexpected crudity of Kotex.
Expertly she clicked the pad free of its elastic band, and tossed it nonchalantly into a wicker wire-basket bound to the trunk of a nearby elm. She flicked the clastic band over her fluent buttocks-and was off to join the others in the water.
Thys and Alouetta disrobed more slowly. There being more flesh to both of them, their stripping was a tease of incredulity as each exposed more and more of their vast bulks. Finally, however, both the Hollanders were naked. Thys stood, hewn and monumental, his massive tool already erecting at the sight of the general stripping going on.
Alouetta was, however, the cynosure. Her tits, huge, and both of them still cross-crossed by fading, bluish weals, bespoke their cruel mishandling a few evenings ago* Her great belly seemed to reach up to the mounds of her ample breasts as well as down into her hairy cuntstit. None could take their eyes from so massive and lewd a display of nakedness.
Von Wildersee's eyes narrowed. It was the only sign he gave of the slowly rising tide of sexual anticipation seeping through his veins.
Then Felicity began to shed her clothes. With the trained sense of theatrical timing, she had allowed the other women to precede her in their stripping. Agonisingly slowly, before the gaze of every man present, she took off garment by garment, and cast these idly upon the common heap. Finally she stood, stark naked, and as if she sensed the delicious shock it would provoke, she turned slowly to reveal her back, Livid, angry welts of skin stood up from her caned buttocks. Arching down from her shoulders, deep into the hollow of her back, and spreading again over her buttocks, lay the weal of the cruel S which Thys had inflicted upon the alabaster perfection of her skin.
Von Wildersee stared at the incredible woman-a Grecian marble statue into which life had inexplicably been breathed. He was mesmerised. His jaw sagged. In his first exhibition of bad taste since his guests had arrived, he gaped openly. But it was excusable. Felicity, naked, was enough to cause a gasp from any man. Scarred as she was by the lash, something sacred that had been gruesomely profaned, the sight of her was revolting-yet it was, at the same time, the most exciting vision imaginable.
Satisfied that she had caused the impression she wanted, Felicity darted into action. Tossing her mane of hair, she danced away, and frolicked, splashing as she went, into the water. She swam to the other side of the pool. Here the tiles sloped the bottom gently upward to the lawn-edge. Easing herself gently over on to her back, the statuesque actress lay supported upon her elbows in the shallows, her two breasts floating like lazy waterwings.
In the sheer joy of the summer afternoon, she lay back and drunk in the beauty about her.
Then she jerked suddenly rigid, as she felt an arm over her thighs, and a hand steal, caressingly, around her buttocks.
Who could this be? she thought. She had seen nobody swimming across to her side of the pool. She knew in a moment, when Von Wildersee's head broke surface. He gazed, unwaveringly, at her, admiration beaming from his eyes.
Felicity relaxed. She and the prince were old acquaintances-veterans of many revels.
"Oh," she said. "It's you-you scared me for a moment. Did you swim all the way under water?"
"No," he said, breathing easily, still firm and athletic in spite of his forty-five years of libertinism. "I came across in short stretches. Slowly. I didn't want to startle you.
"Relax," said Felicity. "It's O.K. now."
She looked at him in amusement. He had all the social graces, she reflected-he was courteous, charming, intelligent, well-born and wealthy. But there was something about him that put her off. What it was, she did not quite know.
Now she gave his head a pat, tousling the wet, crisp curls affectionately.
"God, Felicity-you've never looked lovelier. Back there, when you stripped, I could have prayed that you would petrify into marble-to remain here, in this setting, for all time!"
She patted his head once more. Compliments pleased her at any time.
He floated himself up to her, urging his body into contact with hers. It was then that she discovered, with some surprise, that Von Wildersee was already hard and rigid in erection.
Understanding dawned upon her, but at the same time an urge to wound him, to dominate him.
"So?" she said, simply.
"Can't you feel?" he panted, hotly. "1 want you soso very much. Now!"
Felicity was flattered. Her nipples hardened as a shudder of delight tormented her. From her cunt she could fee! the warm sexfluid starting to exude.
"You mean-naturally? Normally? Like a lover would want a woman? That's odd, coming from you, isn't it, Hermann?"
Von Wildersee was impatient. "What's odd about it?" he demanded.
"Well, it's just not like you, is it? Wasn't it a fetish kick, last time? High heels and black corsets, I seem to remember... And before that, the ordure business-the blood and the mud and the shit. Like the time you took Anita down to the pigsties and shovelled this thing" -she broke off to give his prick a vicious twist-"into the mire before you rammed it into her backside, poor kid!"
Hermann was panting, his eyes wild, his mouth aslaver. Felicity's hand, still gripping his penis, was electric, pulsating current through his hot, flushed body. He tugged at her beneath the water, pulling her roughly out of the pool, until she felt her back being scratched uncomfortably by the bristly, close-cropped grass.
"God damn it!" he panted. "What if I did? Sex doesn't always have to be something perverse. When there is beauty such as yours, surely you realise that even I can become tender?"
Felicity was playing with fire, and she knew it But she flung back her head, and laughed, teasingly.
"The more beautiful they were, the more you used to revel in grinding them into the filth," she said, viciously. "I know you too well, Hermann-and I want no part of that jazz!"
But she persuaded herself to be urged out of the water, and taken to where a patch of lilies hid them from the eyes of the others. She faced him there, taunting him with a mocking smile.
"And you-what about you?" he panted. "Look at those whip-marks! Where'd you get them, hey?"
Fire flashed from her eyes.
"My business!" she spit. "If you can run the full gamut-run it your way. Let me get my kicks the way I want them!"
Suddenly she spread her legs, and her cunt leaped into view. Lips parted, it gaped redly and glistened in the sunlight.
"Vile bastard!" she lung at him. "Pervert! Old roue 1 Pig of a thousand pigs! What makes you think you'll ever lay me?"
His chest heaved as he absorbed her insults. Into his eyes had come another look, now-the onset of anger.
Felicity recognised this. Perversely, she continued, however.
"That's right!" she flung at him. "Pant! Pant your heart out, you lusting old ape! Pant for me-but you won't get me into your pig-sties! No! Take your Anitas there, though-grovel in the piss and the shit with them! That's all you deserve!"
A dangerous glint was in Von Wildersee's eyes now. His nostrils distended. As he struggled for control, her voice rose in fury;
"And go down to the brothels of Marseille! Go on! Winkle out the filthiest whores you can find in those dens. Bring them back here to Cloisy. Put them into black corsets, lace them up in lingerie, gird their legstheir filthy, syphilitic legs-in black silk stockings, and make them prance around you in ten-inch high heels! Pervert! Filth!"
Von Wildersee had endured enough. He hissed out one word only.
"Stop!"
It was like a whiplash. Felicity shuddered.
And then he came at her-slowly, inexorably. As he felt himself in grappling distance, he sprang at her, lithely and with the muscular grace of a leopard, bowling her over to the grass, and, with the same movement, sought to plunge his raging penis deep into her cunt.
But Felicity had just had time to cross her legs, and she kept them crossed, resisting the probing of that angry rod. Could Hermann have seen the look in her eyes then, he would have gone even more berserk-for in her expression was the mocking glint of triumph, the knowledge that she had succeeded in provoking precisely the reaction she had wanted from him.
Provoked now beyond all endurance, Von Wildersee brought up his knee viciously into the girl's groin. She wriggled free. Frustrated, he now hit out at her, but Felicity, seeing the blow coming, managed to tuck her face into the hollow of one shoulder over which his balled list sailed harmlessly.
Now it was her turn-and she scratched from his upper arm a great weal of flesh, feeling the meat curl into her fingernails as she scraped it from his body.
The pain of this assault drove Von Wildersee mad. He strained at her, sinking his fingers deeply into her flesh, cruelly bruising her.. He thrashed about over her body, driving her back into the grass, so that her whipweals opened and began to bleed. And all the time he sought to part her closed, locked thighs.
Felicity goaded him into fresh assaults, and managed, each time, to avoid the full wrath of his attack. She absorbed just as much punishment as she felt herself fit to endure.
And then, when she could endure no more, when she felt so close to orgasm that she could no longer keep up the resistance, she contrived to unlock her thighs in a gesture of submission so natural that Von Wildersee thought it was he himself who had finally won entrance into her now slimewet cunt.
With a howl of triumph, he bore down into it. And, as if she had gone suddenly insensate beneath the vigour of his rape, she sensuously lay back in feigned defeat.
Von Wildersee exulted in his victory. He bore down and into her like some demonic thing, intent now only upon his own satisfaction.
Little did he realise by what consummate use of her theatrical talent the actress-bitch beneath him had contrived every movement of their coupling. For she had wanted to be raped. A sadist at the best of times, she could hurt-and she knew it. But now she had found an even greater joy-a delight in being hurt-and she was loving it.
Deliciously, in great streams, she felt herself coming and coming and coming-non-stop-as her clumsy, excitable rapist gasped and spluttered to his own climax inside her hot, ravished cunt.
They slid, satiated, back into the water, bits of grass and mud clinging to their panting bodies.
Idly, using the current to help them, they swam back to the opposite bank, where they collapsed, Felicity lying in a patch of sunlight, and the prince in the shadow of a spreading willow.