Chapter 3
Serena was having the shit pummeled out of her. She was lying in a private room, in the very exclusive health club to which she belonged, and which she had seldom visited, except for the swimming parties, and the cocktail parties which were sometimes held there.
Serena had been acting very strangely, according to her family, for the past two weeks. She had absented herself from dinner and breakfast. She had excused herself from most of the public affairs which she attended. She hadn't even been seen at any of the auctions, nor at the horse shows which were held every weekend.
She had pleaded exhaustion, and "a slight touch of anemia, according to Dr. Tate," the fashionable physician who attended all the women in the exclusive society in which Serena had traveled so uncomplainingly for so long.
Actually, she had visited Dr. Tate for a crash diet, which she got, and told him that she intended to stick with the diet, and therefore, was going to avoid all the haunts that might prove to be too much temptation too soon. Dr. Tate had readily agreed that a medical excuse would make it easier, and as he palpated, and examined the women who came to him, boredom breeding all sorts of superficial symptoms, and the women gossiped he gave ready credence to the story Serena had spread.
So, aside from some slight anxiety as to her state of health, Serena was readily forgiven for her withdrawal.
At home, at this hour, her family would be just stirring in their beds. It was six-thirty a.m., a sure time to make full use of the new-found freedom which Serena was relishing.
She loved the time alone, which she guarded jealously, to re-discover who she was, to peel off, layer by layer, the coating of social conformity which had distorted her personality behind a mask of social graces which Serena was beginning to realize were absurd.
Clowns aping other clowns, each one trying to out-do the other in social irrelevancies. There must be more to life, thought Serena, totally alone with her thoughts, in spite of the brutal beating her body was getting at the hands of the determined masseuse.
She was very happy to get away from her old friends. It was as if, in their presence, Serena ceased to be herself, and took all her cues from them.
Serena had become a kaleidescope of a dozen or more personalities, each one with some input into her basic emotional make-up, each one having something to say to establish her mind along certain lines.
And what about her? What about the Serena, who knew what a fact was, knew pretty well who people were, knew very well, who and what she was.
Submerged!
There's no arguing with taste, and right now, there was no arguing with Serena. That's why she determinedly got up early, to use the facilities of the health spa, without encountering any of the old biddies she was avoiding.
As she lay on the massage table, the Swedish masseuse doing an excellent, if brutal, job, Serena examined her conscience for the thousandth time. She doubted, as she had always doubted, her sexual inclinations. How could it be normal to want a man and a woman, too? And how come she enjoyed pain so much? She had always lived her own life, and done pretty much as she pleased, but sometimes, something whispered to her heart that maybe she went too far.
Brutal as this Valkyrie was, who was kneading her flesh as if it were so much insensitive dough, Serena was enjoying every minute of it. She especially liked it when the woman accidently pinched her in her squeezing and plumping of her rapidly dwindling flesh. She never cried out for fear the woman would ease up in her enthusiasm. Serena couldn't stand the idea of her stopping.
She closed her eyes, and left her torturing self-doubts alone for a moment, as she closed her eyes, and gave herself up to the growing pleasure the pain was creating.
The masseuse had reached her buttocks. Serena flinched a little, remembering some of the acts that had been committed on her behind. The whippings, the beatings, and the very faint scar that had been occasioned by a very hard bite, that left her bleeding. That incident had scared her away from some of her kinky pursuits for awhile. She figured she had gone too far.
It was the day before her wedding, which was the social event of the season. Serena had plotted and planned and schemed to capture James, and having got him, proceeded to get terribly restless. The day before her wedding, she had gone out into the city streets, and wandered. She didn't really care what she did.
James was having his bachelor party that evening, and she was feeling resentful. Why didn't women get bachelor parties, too? No, they only got silly things like showers, with lots of women squealing over lots of gifts that one really didn't need.
Serena had decided to absent herself from the state of propriety into which she had bound herself when she became engaged to James, and have a little fling of her own.
And she decided to go whole hog. No mincing little half-assed fling, but a raging brawl, was what she was after. Might as well have a really good memory to carry to her marriage bed.
Memories! It seemed as if that was all that was left of nine years of living with James. The children really didn't mean that much to her. She cared for them, but she hadn't wanted them as young as she had them.
But that was the way it was done, and James was as unimaginative in social spheres, as he was in bed. She was about to change all that. She was about to harness some of the energy and innovative wit that he used in his business, to her pleasure, and her needs.
Serena remembered, as she winced under the brutal fingers of the masseuse, that night to end all nights. Any porn on the market today, Bocaccio, Rabelais, paled in comparison. It was the highlight of her sexual career.
She had had her final fitting on her wedding gown that afternoon, and the seamstress was going to deliver it to her apartment by seven. Her maid of honor was staying overnight, in order to help her with her arrangements in the morning.
She had called Carol, and told her, quite frankly, that since James was out on the town, she was going to have a final fling herself, visit some old friends, and re-live some of the career she had given up. It was unthinkable, given James's position in society, that she would continue to be a chorus girl.
Carol understood, asked no questions, and reminded her that, although there was enough make-up to cover the ravages of her night on the town, that she had better be at the apartment by seven the next morning, since that was when all the bridesmaids-all fucking twelve of them!-were going to make their appearance, along with the hairdresser, the florist, and the photographer for the standard pre-wedding rituals.
Serena winced as she thought of the accumulated habitual garbage surrounding a legal license to fuck and make babies-like you couldn't do it otherwise (even though people always did).
She thanked Carol for understanding, and, hanging up the phone, started walking to the red light district of the town. If she could be called a demi-mondaine-a woman living between two worlds, and belonging to neither-she couldn't really claim any kind of familiarity with the lower orders of society.
And she decided to give it a lick and a promise. She wound up down around the docks, and walked into a bar on a corner of a dimly-lit street. She walked in because she liked the name, blaring at her in red neon, "Sucksie's Swinging Pub."
She wondered how they had got away with the name, and decided that the place was not only God-forsaken, but man-abandoned, as well. The long fingers of the law probably never snaked this far down, and probably nobody cared, except for an occasional clean-up campaign.
The place was noisy, smelly, and crowded.
"Hi!" husked a beer-drenched voice.
Serena backed away slightly, and looked up into the be-whiskered face of a monstrously tall, and wide dock worker. His arms were as big around as Serena's thighs, and then some, and every inch of his beefy body was muscle. He rippled, and exhibited a lithe grace when he moved, which surprised Serena, given his weight and girth.
"Hello," Serena husked back at him. He grabbed her roughly around her waist, his encircling arm moving downward, as his huge, beefy-hands groped. "You'll do," he said, grinning at her. "C'mon and have a drink with my friend."
Serena let him drag her bodily to the bar. "Give the lady what she wants," the man bellowed.
"Thank you," she said.
"Oh, don't worry, you'll pay for it-in the end," she heard a burly man roar. He was sitting at the end of the bar, in the general direction in which her assailant was leading her.
"Sam," the muscle-bound man howled to the burly man who had promised that she would ante-up for her drjnk, "This is ... I don't know your name. I guess I'll give you one for the night. This is ... ummm...."
"Pussy!" the other man laughed.
A slow, evil grin spread over the face of the muscle-bound man. "Yeah, that'll do." He turned to Serena. "Pussy, my name is...."
"Dork-man," Sam laughed.
Serena's pussy was twitching. This was really the lowest she had ever traveled, as crass and unfeeling and blatant as anything she could think of. It didn't occur to her, in her headlong pursuit of kinky sex that there could be anything dangerous in this encounter.
It never occurred to her that she could be hurt, or so brutalized that she wouldn't survive the episode.
Serena was a survivor, and she sailed into and out of situations that would have left other, milder-tempered women, emotionally, if not physically, scarred for life.
Serena ordered a bourbon on the rocks, and sipped it, listening to Sam and dork-man get bawdier and bawdier, until their raucous humor turned downright obscene, at which point the long-awaited invitation came.
"Wanna come with us and meet two snakes with one eye?" husked Sam, slurring his words.
"Sure...." purred Serena.
"Good! I knew you was what we was lookin' for. We kinda wanted to have a little party, see? A special party," said dork-man, his hands now frankly exploring every inch of her ass, his thick, meaty fingers running up and down her ass crack.
"I'm your woman," smirked Serena, thoroughly delighted with her adventure. The men paid up, and they left, Serena squashed between the two bruisers who were both staggering slightly. They wound their way through filthy, foul-smelling alleys, to a run-down boarding house. Sam let them in with a key, which he had trouble inserting in the keyhole.
"Hope ya don't have that kind of trouble with yer prick, sonny," slurred dork-man."
"Ahh, stick it up your bung-hole," snarled Sam, finally getting the rickety door unlocked. They staggered up three flights of stairs, smelling of urine and unwashed bodies, past several drunks, lying in varying degrees of inebriation in the hallways, to a door at the end of the hall on the third floor.
Sam opened it without applying a key to the lock. The room was the worst possible example of filth and degradation that Serena had ever seen. A shiver went up her spine, as she walked in and saw the littered floor, smelled the foul odor of unwashed body, saw the unmade, filthy sheets on the tousled bed.
Her breath was starting to come in short little spurts, little puffs of wind. Her breasts were jiggling, braless, under her thin cotton dress, with her excitement. The door wasn't even closed, before she felt the meaty hands of dork-man, kneading and pawing at her shaking breasts.
She felt her nipples pucker with excitement, and let out a little squeal, as dork-man pinched one of them-hard.
Then she felt his meaty hand on the collar of the dress, and felt it ripped from her body.
"Ohhh...." she whispered, never having felt quite so intensely so fast. She was shaking and her knees were threatening to give out from under her.
Her eyes wandered to Sam, who was removing his clothes. He pulled off his stained trousers, stiff with dirt, and watched his monstrous, thick ugly-looking cock pop up. He wasn't wearing any underwear. He stared at her, standing nude, and trembling in the middle of the room, and his big paw reached for his dork, and started pumping it.
"Wanna taste cock?" he husked.
"Yes," she said, going over to him and kneeling down in front of him, where he had sat on the edge of the bed. The smell was overpowering, and Serena, for all her twitching pussy, felt a retching sensation in the pit of her stomach. She took a deep breath, held it, and plunged down on the cock.
She felt her head imprisoned by the big, beefy hands of Sam, as he pressed her face, her lovely, clean face, into his foul-smelling unwashed groin. The hairs around his groin were matted with dirt.
And Serena exulted in the degradation.
Suddenly, she felt two hands on her hips.
"Hey," she heard dork-man growl, "git up on the bed, durn ya, and let me at her ass."
"Unnhhh!" grunted Sam, still holding Serena's head. He wiggled back on the bed, keeping Serena's head pinned to his hairy groin. Behind her, Serena felt dork-man's beefy hands pushing on her ass, forcing her over the side of the bed, as Sam pushed backwards, until Sam was lying full on the bed, Serena's face still buried in his groin, her ass stuck way up in the air.
She suddenly gasped, or tried to, and only succeeded in choking herself, as she felt dork-man's massive cock head placed at the entrance to her asshole.
Now, Serena was no ass-virgin, but still, a little lubrication and a little gentleness would have eased dork-man's passage. But dork-man had no such ideas.
He shoved.
Serena's scream was buried in Sam's cock, as dork-man plunged, half-burying his cock in her screaming, burning rectum.
Serena felt every bit of the humiliation of knowing that she was being treated as an object. A mere merkin to quell the riotous lusts of these two beasts.
And she had asked for it. She would have left gladly at this point, and yet, as she felt her pussy juices pouring out of her, she wondered if she really would have, given the opportunity arose.
She didn't think that Sam or dork-man would even think of it, as they continued to saw into the delicate membranes of her mouth and asshole as if she were no more than a thing of plastic-a doll to be mauled, and played with, and mutilated as they wished.
Thoroughly miserably and defeated in her illusions of grandeur by these two thugs, Serena surrendered to Sam's cock plowing her mouth and throat as it had never been plowed before, and dork-man's mindless sawing in and out of her shit chute.
Christ, she hurt! The tears trickled down her face. This was a new quirk in Serena. She never cried. She was a blatant Stoic, and figured that whatever happened, to date, in her kinky, and very independent life, was her own fault, and her own responsibility.
Serena didn't like it, and tried to relax, to give dork-man more access to her hot, aching asshole. Serena could feel the walls of her rectum being pushed as the man's cock plowed into her screaming nether channel. The agony was almost more than even Serena could enjoy.
In the meantime, Sam was yanking her hair, demanding that she suck him off. Serena obliged reluctantly. The pain in her ass was making her faint, and she was feeling nauseous. She wondered if she had done the right thing to take these men on.
Men? They were beasts of the worst possible sort. Dork-man was well-named. His cock was as thick, and muscle-bound, and beefy as he was, and having hit balls-deep into her rectum, he was now pulling out of her unlubricated asshole, dragging the membrane with him. Serena could almost feel her bowels being dragged out of her belly with the force of dork-man's monstrous cock.
The yanking on her hair was getting very insistent, so insistent that Serena was afraid the man would pull her hair out at the roots. She started pumping up and down on Sam's filthy cock, trying to time her pumping to match the humping of dork-man behind her.
She was moaning all over Sam's cock, the tears running down her cheeks. It was almost too sudden, and too obscene, too filthy, and yet here she was, at the nadir of her pursuits, in the worst possible position she could be in.
And her untended pussy seemed to be taking care of itself.
Serena licked the thick, throbbing shaft of Sam's tumescent tool, running her tongue up and down the under side of it, using her mouth as a vacuum, striving to drag out the spunk that must be churning now in his balls.
As she took care of Sam's cock, dork-man was taking care of his own, beating away at Serena's ass as if it were the scapegoat for all his ills. And Serena's pussy was purring! She reached down with her hand, knowing full well, that both of these men would take care of their own needs, and leave her high and dry.
And Serena did not intend to be left out!
"Fuck her dork-man, fuck her!" bellowed Sam, pressing his head back into the filthy mattress, as he felt his orgasm rising within him.
"Yeah, I'm going to fuck her shitless, ha! Ha! Ha!"
Dork-man's brutal laughter reverberated off the walls over which cockroaches crawled, and from which the plaster filtered in a fine white spray.
"Mmmmmm...." moaned Serena, and the scene was so wild, so degraded, so unbelievable to her, even given her penchant for the sordid stuff, that she didn't know if the moan vibrating against Sam's sticky, throbbing cock was for pain or pleasure.
But her pussy was telling the real story. She could feel her come dripping down her thighs as her first orgasmic spasms hit her suddenly, and fast. Even Serena, with all her experience had never come this fast. It scared her in a way, the whole thing was so perverted, and so unlike any image she had of herself.
In the fury of her confusion, and the growing fright she was experiencing, Serena applied herself with double effort to Sam's now dripping cock. She could feel the veins pulsing against the back of her mouth, as she vacuumed the come up out of his balls.
Sam came with a roar. He bucked his hips up into her face, smearing it with the come that was pouring out of her mouth as she strove to keep sucking. He fucked her mouth with a fury.
And dork-man was far from idle. Serena's ass felt like a furious fire, as dork-man's cock raged in and out of her rectum, abrading the tender walls, pummeling her bowels in a way that surpassed even her own perverted imagination.
Her orgasm mounted in pitch and frenzy, died away and built up again in a never-ending spiral that caused her to break out in a cold sweat.
"Yeaaaggghhh!" bellowed dork-man, grabbing Serena's soft white hips in a crushing grasp, as he started to come. He spewed his spunk deep, deep within Serena's bowels, until Serena couldn't tell if the spunk in her mouth was Sam's or dork-man's or a combination of both.
She screamed in a gargling, wretching noise against Sam's cock, as the fury of her orgasm mounted still higher, and she passed out.
She was unconscious while the two men finished spewing their spunk into her mouth and ass, and she didn't feel them collapsing, as their balls were relieved.
What brought her back to consciousness was a rough slap.
"Hey, bitch, don't pass out on our party, yet. We ain't finished." It was dork-man. Sam's cock had fallen out of her mouth, and Serena's head had just plunked on Sam's stinking groin, when she passed out.
Dork-man was straddled over her crumpled form, a hank of her hair in one hand, and he was slapping her violently, back and forth across both her cheeks with the other.
"Huh, whaaa...." Serena gasped, tasting blood from a cut lip. She licked her lips, and struggled to a sitting position, her body shivering with fear, anticipation of the degradation still to come, and her ass aching fiercely. The back of her throat hurt, too, and she suddenly realized how big Sam's cock had been.
Her mouth tasted foul.
She screamed, as dork-man's thumb and forefinger pinched one of her nipples. It wasn't a tweak, he was grinding his rough, calloused fingers heavily into the tender skin.
And again, she felt her perverse pleasure rise. Her pussy was still twitching heavily, and the speed and intensity of the twitching was turning into another nightmarish orgasm. She had never passed out before when she climaxed. She really didn't expect to again, either!
Her face was twisted into a mask of pain, as dork-man, smiling evilly, kept twisting her nipple, as if he wanted to twist it off.
"Hey ... Sam ... you take her back this time, and I'll fuck her filthy cunt, O.K.?"
Sam's face twisted into a leer, and Serena watched, hypnotized, as Sam's beefy fist started beating his meat again. "Frig yourself, lady," Sam commanded. "I want you ready when I get to yer."
Serena reached down slowly with one hand, and her inquiring fingertip found her clitoris. She jumped as her fingertip stimulated the over-sensitized love bud.
It was sheer pain, and sheer pleasure, of a piercing, demanding, violent kind that Serena didn't even know existed. And the tears welled in her eyes as her passion mounted again, as she wallowed in the crassness, the filth, the humiliation of being so brutally mauled by two beasts. She closed her eyes to the painful sensations and felt herself, somehow, in some weird way, exalted.
Who could say they had experienced anything like this, either pleasure or pain, with this kind of intensity? No one that she knew of!
And who would be so daring, Serena the bold, the wild one, the hellion! While she was carried away with her ecstasy, dork-man gave off man-handling her nipple. It was red and bleeding where the skin had worn away from the force of the squeezing.
She moaned, as she felt him roughly throw her on her side. Her eyes closed, she felt rough hands pulling her legs apart, felt the hairy legs of Sam push between her white, tender ones, felt his rough cock roughly pushing at the head of her creaming pussy.
"Hey, she's wet," husked Sam. He pushed hard, and embedded his thick, filthy cock into her pussy. Then she felt dork-man pushing against her rectal muscles.
They gave with a relative degree of ease, having been terrifically stretched by dork-man's plowing prick. She squealed as she felt the weird sensation of two cocks, rubbing each other against the thin membrane that separated her pussy from her asshole.
The rest of the night passed in a delirium of pain, beating, and fucking. She serviced both men like a sow gone wild with lust, grunting slavishly to the tune of her own passion, and reveling in every degradation that the two men chose to visit on her.
As dawn was coming up, the three of them lay in the bed, the room heavy with the smell of sex and dirty bodies, exhausted. Serena tried to think. There was some reason why she should leave.
With a tremendous start, she reared up to a sitting position, letting out a cry of pain, as the pressure against her asshole shot the pain and the fire from a night of abuse, higher into her head.
Sam and dork-man were out cold. She disentangled herself from their prone bodies, and looked for her dress. There was no way she could ever wear it again. How was she going to get home?
She had a moment of panic before she discovered in the closet, hidden away in a cockroach-infested cardboard carton, and old housecoat. She put it on, and then stole a musty old trench coat to put over that.
Finding her purse, she slowly crept out of the room, and into the littered, abandoned, early morning streets.
It took her half an hour to find a cab, but she got home by six. Carol was appalled at her appearance. Serena was grinning from ear to ear, until a hot shower sobered her up enough to contemplate the night's excesses. Her heart shot into her mouth.
What kind of beast was she? She covered her face with her hands, shaking under the warm shower, and thought of calling James and canceling out.
The pain in her ass was unbearable, and it called her back from her stricken conscience. It seemed to be spreading. As she looked down in the white tub, she noticed rivulets of pink. Shocked, she turned around, and discovered the circular marks of someone's teeth. Somewhere in that night of madness, someone had bitten her ass so hard that the skin was broken.
There would be a scar. Serena almost went crazy when she saw the mark. She wanted to run somewhere and hide. She was appalled at the depths of her depravity, a thick, turgid stream that moved sluggishly in her belly.
She was afraid that she was going mad. Afraid of another outburst like that. That would cure her, she thought, gingerly tending to the wound. And to think she had not felt it, or noticed it until she got home, so swamped was she in the miasma of perverse pleasure she had indulged in.
Never again, she thought, weeping. There was an impatient knock on the bathroom door, as Carol summoned her to her nuptial festivities.
She was extremely silent on the way to the church. Carol understood it to be exhaustion, and the other bridesmaids assumed it was sheer pre-marriage nervousness.
But Serena was desperately searching her mind for a way to avoid the wedding night, and the discovery of the marks of her iniquity. As she got out of the limousine, she glanced back briefly, just to make sure that the wound on her buttocks had not stained through to the white gown.
Blood! That was the answer. Serena spent her wedding night alone.
And she had what was probably the longest period in the history of menstruation.