Chapter 4

"There, I guess that does it," said DeWilde as he checked over the sideboard. "That's enough to give 'em something to munch on between drinks. My crowd isn't much of an eating bunch anyway."

He turned to survey the liquor layout on the matching sideboard. A variety of bottle, mixes, silver ice buckets and glasses had been arranged by Karen under his direction.

"That's what they'll go for. Plenty more bottles in the cabinet in the kitchen if they drink those dry."

He turned to Karen. "Time to get ourselves dressed. Come with me."

In the last few hours, Karen had gotten into the habit of doing exactly what he told her to do as soon as he said it. Even her nudity seemed natural, as if she had never worn clothes. It was almost a surprise to her when he mentioned dressing.

She followed him to the master bedroom, off which was a huge bathroom. In addition to the bathtub it contained a stall shower; a king-size one, Karen noted, as he opened the glass door and turned on the water. On the wall alongside it was a handsomely made sign with gold lettering embossed on a mahogany background. It read:

Help Conserve Water -Take a Shower With a Friend.

He stripped off his clothes, dropped them on the floor and motioned to her to enter with him. He lathered himself and then her; scrubbed her back with gentleness and seeming affection. He gave her a washcloth with which to scrub his and she nearly vomited as she worked the lather up in the coarse black hair which covered his back, seeing the soap foam up until it looked like a shampoo. Taking it from her, he lathered it again, using it to wash his private parts well and then hers. A stab of pain went through her when he touched her bruised flesh but no trace of it crossed her face. Finished, they emerged and dried each other.

"Now, see what I've got for you," he told her pleasantly. "A very attractive white outfit, two piece, which will look great against that fair skin and blonde hair of yours."

Karen looked at the clothing he held toward her. It was snow white, of a very soft and sheer knit jersey; flared trousers with the waistline cut low, hip hugger fashion, and a halter top having a plunging neckline.

"It might be a trifle small for you," he told her, "but the material has a lot of stretch to it."

Silently she took the two garments from him. She spoke the single word:

"Underthings?"

He shook his head.

"Don't have any, I'm afraid. But it doesn't matter. Lots of women in our crowd don't wear them and with that beautiful young body of yours, you don't need anything to hold you in."

By now Karen had been in this house, in this man's presence, for a little over thirty hours, and already she had become accustomed to obeying him completely, without arguing. She had abandoned self; had become his robot. She put on the top and trousers, struggling a little to get into them and having to work them up over her slightly-damp body.

"They fit beautifully," DeWilde said approvingly. "They look like they were spray-painted on."

Karen looked at herself in the full length mirror. The deep-vee in the neckline plunged down to the bottom of her bust, slightly revealing the inner curve of each breast. A little collar stood up around her throat. The bottom of the halter top was elasticized and clung to her ribcage tightly just below the bottom of her breasts, giving some support. However, the material was so sheer that the pink coronas around her nipples showed through as a darker circle, while her nipples themselves pushed prominent peaks outward from the cloth.

She looked at the reflection of the pants. The waist was cut low; so low that the tops of her pelvis bones stuck out above them. The rest of the trousers clung to her like skin to a little below her knees, at which point the flare of the legs began. They had no fly or zipper; simply clung because of the elasticity of the material. The cloth was so sheer and clung so tightly that every curve of her lower body was revealed. The rising bone of her mons pubic stuck out like a mound, while her pubic hair showed as a dark patch in the crotch. She looked at herself with utter distaste and then dismissed her image.

Quite calmly she said: "I have a comb and some cosmetics in my handbag, Mr. DeWilde."

He pointed to where it lay on the bed; it was all that remained of what she had brought into this house with her. As she picked it up, he entered the bathroom ahead of her and rummaged around in the medicine chest on the wall.

"Here," he said triumphantly, "I knew there was a tube of Clearasil in there someplace. A little teenager used to visit me who had a bad complexion and used this to hide it Try it on those scratches and the bruise on your cheek."

When she emerged a few minutes later DeWilde appraised her closely. "You look just beautiful," he told her. "The lighting in the living room is much softer than this and no one will see a thing."

He handed her a pair of silver clogs; strap-backed, with high, clubby heels, thick sole and a big silver buckle for decoration. "Put these on," he directed.

When she straightened up after complying, he took a deep breath and said to her firmly:

"Now, I want you to listen to me, and listen carefully, without interruption. From now on you are to call me Roger, or Roge, and not Mr. DeWilde. Furthermore, I want to be proud of you this evening. I want my guests to have fun, and I want you to have fun, and I want to have fun myself. For that reason, you will do exactly as you are told whenever I speak to you, and you will do whatever I tell you to do the second I tell you to do it."

He cleared his throat before finishing his instructions.

"If you should fail in any respect, after my guests leave, I would probably take a notion to put that pretty face of yours in such condition that no amount of Clearasil could ever make it look nice again. Understand?"

Without a second's hesitation Karen replied:

"Yes, er, Roger."

"Good. Now let's go have a drink."

Karen's head buzzed with the noise of conversation, the smoke in the room and the throb of music from the stereo. Not from drinking-she had told DeWilde that she'd never had a drink with alcohol in it and he had replied bluntly that she should stick to ginger ale; that there was nothing he detested more than a drunken woman, especially an inexperienced drunk.

She remembered Roger had introduced the first few guests by name as they arrived but had soon given it up, telling her that she could never remember them all. That was George and Lorraine, she knew, and over there were Gregory and Martha. Bruce was the one who had walked in with two girls, Barbara and Gwen, apparently not married to either of them. All of the rest were just a blur.

When the first couple arrived she had remained seated, arms crossed over her chest, hoping to conceal her near-nudity in the see-through outfit she was wearing. As others joined them she got over that feeling, since most of the women were far more scantily clad, once they shed their summer wraps. Karen was agape at some of the costumes, having no idea that people wore such things in public.

Lorraine had seemed the most modestly dressed at first, in a green cover-up dress with a long wraparound, ankle-length skirt and a neck-high bodice with a buttoned collar. However, when she moved, it became apparent that the skirt was split clear up the side, to her waist, and that she had no undergarments of any kind on under it. When she turned her shoulders the front of the bodice swung open, since it was slit from waist to collar, revealing her breasts alternately, free of the restraint of a bra.

Barbara and Gwen were both wearing tight but sheer sweaters, revealing their breasts as clearly as were Karen's, and mini skirts without any panties on beneath. Bruce had been dancing with them alternately, his arm tightly around them, turning his wrist a little every few seconds so that he hiked the girl's skirts up in the rear. So short were they to begin with that in a very few steps the curves of their buttocks were clearly revealed, to the delight of men and women guests alike. Barbara and Gwen were well aware of what he was doing, although pretending to be obvious, and made no attempt to pull them down.

The men were all wearing short sleeved sports shirts, wash slacks and loafers, of every gay color and pattern imaginable. No one seemed to be paying much attention to the near-nudity; not even to one girl named Eloise who was wearing a scoop-necked dress with the collar cut very full. She had no brassiere on beneath it and was leaning over at every opportunity, which exposed both breasts fully to anyone who cared to look.

The music changed to a hard-rock piece with an insistent beat. A tall brunette with long, flowing hair stood up. She had very large, firm breasts, only partially concealed by a thin silk blouse, unbuttoned down the front but with the tails tied in a knot in front. She began to gyrate wildly to the throb of the music, swinging her head from side to side so that the flowing hair formed a crown of movement around her head. The generous breasts also swung, partially freeing themselves from their concealment. Pagan sensuality expressed itself to the primitive musical structure. Both men and women watched, fascinated, as the writhing, twisting dance of extemporaneous lust continued. The knot worked loose and she flung it off. Her short skirt flapped around her strong, straight thighs as her breasts jiggled in rhythmic counterpoint to the beat of the music.

The music ended and the woman stopped, breathing deeply, her fine breasts rising and falling. The group applauded, sincerely, for she was a good dancer.

Roger stepped forward immediately, took her by the hand and, raising it above her head, called out:

"Okay, men, what am I bid for this fine specimen?"

Karen didn't understand what was happening. Some man shouted "thirty bucks" and another quickly raised him to forty. The bidding ended at seventy-five, with a man called Harold being the winner. When Roger declared the bidding ended, he took a silver bracelet from his pocket which had a short leather leash attached to it. He snapped the metal band around the brunette's wrist and handed the leash to Harold, who promptly led the girl away by it to a corner of the room.

The girl made no move to retrieve her missing blouse. Nothing about the auction made any sense to Karen. She noticed that Barbara and Gwen were sitting alongside each other on a couch which backed up to the chair Karen was in, at a slight angle. They were talking earnestly and Karen found that by listening quite closely, she could hear what they were saying in spite of the music, which was now a somewhat softer melody.

Gwen was asking Barbara:

"What was that all about? I've been to parties here a couple of times before but never to one of these auctions."

"Well, that's Deirdre, and Harold just bought her for seventy-five dollars. He gives that money to Jerry, who brought her. Now, for the rest of the evening, she is his slave and has to do anything he tell her to do."

"Anything?"

Firmly: "Anything."

Gwen, thoughtfully: "Gosh."

"Oh, of course, she could tell everyone to go to hell and walk out if she wanted to. She'd never be invited again and Jerry would probably bawl hell out of her when they got home, but she can always quit the game if she feels like it. Only nobody ever has."

Gwen was still curious. "What does Jerry do with the money?"

"That's his capital for the night. Now he can bid for another girl. Or, he can add some money to it and buy two girls; as many as he wants."

Gwen giggled. "Could he handle two or three of them?"

"Maybe or he might be out to make a coup-corner the market. About a year ago we had a guy who had lots of money and he bought up seven or eight of them-I don't remember how many. The other guys didn't catch on to what he was doing until he had most of the girls in the room on his leash. Then he rented them out by the hour. He made a bundle that night. He was never asked back again, either."

"Is Bruce going to auction us off?"

"Sure. It'll be a lot of fun. He might offer us as a matched pair and get a big price for us."

Gwen looked speculatively around the room. "They all seem like nice men."

"Oh, they are. This is the finest crowd of people on the Island. You'll like any fellow you wind up with. I've been bought by most of them from time to time and always had an enjoyable evening."

The music stopped and George was pushing Lorraine forward. Roger stepped up, took another bracelet from a side table where a pile of them lay, and started again.

"What am I bid for this luscious specimen of womanhood? Beautiful, obedient, graceful-a slave of whom any man would dream. Do I hear fifty dollars?"

The bidding started. It was rather more cautious, perhaps because there was a long evening ahead, hut DeWilde finally worked it up to an even hundred. The successful bidder came up, took hold of the leash and passed some bills to George. He then turned to his purchase and said eagerly:

"Let me see what I got for my money. Take 'em off."

Fumbling at her waist, Lorraine undid the snaps and swung off her skirt in a swirl of green silk. Next she loosened her bodice at the throat and slipped it off of her shoulders, sliding it down the leash toward him. As he pulled the leather through it and dropped the bodice on a chair he looked her over and said approvingly:

"Beautiful. Worth every penny of it."

He turned her around again by the leash, stared down between her legs and said: "Wow. Look at that beaver."

Lorraine was one of those girls with luxuriant pubic hair. A veritable forest of long, curly, black hair grew between her legs, covering the entrance to her womanhood completely. Not the vestige of a slit could be seen beneath the heavy patch of brush.

Her purchaser put his hand on it and combed the growth with his fingers. The hairs were at least six inches long as he extended them.

"It's beautiful," he smiled up at her, "but is there a place for me beneath it?" He stuck one finger probingly into the mass and then gave a whistle of mock relief.

"Yep, she's got one. Just wanted to make sure I didn't get shortchanged."

Satisfied with his buy, he led her away to show her off to some of the others.

Karen felt like she was going to be ill and hoped desperately that she wouldn't do it and draw attention to herself. Barbara and Gwen seemed to be amused were giggling at the byplay between Lorraine and her buyer.

They made the circuit of the room and dropped down to the floor not far from Karen's feet. Lorraine was calling him Marvin, so she must have learned his name. His wife was the next to go on the block. Roger got the bidding up to one hundred and twenty-five dollars for her. As Marv stuffed the currency into his pocket Lorraine said to him:

"Well, you got me and twenty-five bucks profit. You're a winner."

Marv was fondling her pubic hair with his other hand, twisting it around his fingers and twirling it into long mustaches which extended out to each side.

"My wife shaves her pussy, except for a little tuft of hair over her clit. I can't get her to stop doing it. It makes her look like a little girl and I feel like I'm banging a kid. Besides," he added, "the stubble irritates my tongue."

Lorraine laughed; stopped in mid-chuckle as the bidding began again. A man was pushing a girl toward Roger; a slim, rather short redhead with a tiny but voluptuous figure, fiery hair worn in a tousled little boy's bob, and the florid complexion which usually accompanies hair of that hue.

"Isn't she cute?" Lorraine asked Marv. "Who are they?"

"Gregory and Martha. They're new on the Island, comparatively. I've seen them just once before at one of Roger's auctions."

The bidding was slow on the little redhead and DeWilde had trouble working it up to an even fifty dollars. In a low voice, Lorraine turned to Marv and said: "Why don't you buy her? I'll bet you can get her for seventy-five."

"What the hell would I do with her? That beautiful beaver of yours is all I'll be able to handle tonight. What would I do-take her home in a doggie bag for tomorrow?"

Lorraine leaned toward him and said softly: "Buy her for me. I'll go halvers with you. I've always wanted to try making it with a woman and something about her turns me on. She seems so-well, childlike."

"Anything you say," he replied and firmly bid seventy-five. There was no contest; she was his and DeWilde led her over to where they were sitting.

After giving him the cash for her, Marv pulled her down to the floor beside them. Martha seemed bewildered at joining him and the nude Lorraine but sank to the floor, unresisting.

Marv pulled her to him so that she lay across his thighs and began to undress her. He unzipped her dress and slipped it off over her head. She was wearing a half slip, brassiere and panties, which he also removed. Naked now, she lay on her back looking up at the two who were peering down at her in interest.

Marv caressed her thighs, then ran his fingers experimentally over her pubic hair. "Look at that pretty red stuff, Lorraine," he said. "She's a real redhead all right-this is just as flaming as what's on her head."

Lorraine reached out both hands to Martha's breasts, cupping them in her palms. "Beautiful," she murmured. "Two little globes that just fit my hands."

Karen was unable to tear her eyes away from the scene being played out before her. Every word spoken came to her as if they were shouting although they were speaking in quite a low tone.

It was Martha who spoke next. "Both of them together wouldn't make one of yours." Lorraine continued to massage the little breasts. She cupped her hands around their base, letting the nipples escape through the circles made by her thumbs and forefingers. The nipples stuck up proudly, the coronas around them puckered up until they were dotted with little goosebumps. In response, Lorraine's nipples were erect, sticking out like twin prongs of passion.

Marv was watching the two of them keenly. He spoke in a low tone to Lorraine. "You really are going to fuck her, aren't you?"

Gleefully, the girl replied. "Honey, I'm going to fuck the hell out of her. You can have me later."

Martha moved as if to draw away but Lorraine threw herself down on top of the redhead, pinning her to the floor beneath her larger, heavier body. She forced Martha's legs apart, getting her body between them, and mounted her like a man, pressing her long black pussy hair against the delicate red cover of the girl beneath her. Lorraine began a coital movement with her hips, like a man, massaging her womanhood against that of Martha's.

At first the redhead resisted but slowly began to respond with hip movements of her own. Soon she spread her legs wider, slid both hands between them and with her fingers pulled back the lips of her vagina. She reached her fingers upward to do the same to Lorraine's, then pushed her hips upward to place their clitorises in firm, direct contact. Done, she pulled out her hands to lock her arms around Lorraine's thrusting body and pull it tightly to her. Together the two girls rocked in a frenzy of sexual passion.

Marv was watching them in fascination. So were Barbara and Gwen, still seated on the couch. Gwen murmured to the other girl in a tone of admiration: "God above, that's real fucking."

Barbara nodded; replied: "It's giving me a hard on myself."

Without rising, Marv began to slip out of his clothes. Naked, he sat cross-legged on the floor beside the panting girls, an erection making his penis stick up from his loins. Karen looked at it; to her, it seemed as if it were only half as big as the awful thing with which DeWilde had abused her. It was still a horrible sight; red and ugly, puffed up and inflamed, but at least it was nowhere nearly so big.

Lorraine and Martha were beginning to reach climax now and several more people in the room were watching them with interest. The big-breasted girl who had done the dance which got the bidding started, her leash still in the hand of Harold who had bought her, was watching them intently as was her owner. She was sitting in his lap in an overstuffed chair, playing with herself as Harold nursed on one of her ample breasts. As the girls' tempo increased, so did hers as she manipulated herself. Harold had disrobed; removed his mouth from her breast just long enough to say: "Here, work on that too," as he thrust his erection between her legs where she sat on his lap. It stuck up between her loins, almost like a penis of her own. She pulled it tightly against her, stretched the lips of her vagina around it and began to massage both organs simultaneously, with one hand, while Harold resumed sucking on her breast.

The girls were reaching climax now, frantically clutching each other tightly. Lorraine came first; the shuddering jerks of her buttocks and the tensing of her back muscles proclaiming to every person in the room that she was having a gigantic come. Seconds later Martha erupted beneath her, spasmodically thrusting her hips upward to gain every last ounce of pressure to enhance her glory. Still shuddering, both girls experienced several lesser orgasms, then rolled away from each other on then-backs on the floor, side by side, arms clasped around each other.

This was what Marv had been waiting for. He mounted Lorraine immediately, desperately thrusting with his cock. She obligingly reached between them to take it in her hand and guide it to her opening, moving it up and down across her slit once or twice to lubricate the head of it. She spread her legs wide to permit him easy entry and held it by the base to guide it well into her.

Marv's prick entered easily because of Lorraine's thorough climaxing with Martha. As it slammed home and their pubes banged together, she locked her arms around his shoulders and said to him:

"I'm afraid you're sucking on a mighty dry orange. That redhead fucked me out until I won't be able to come for a week."

Marv was taking long, gentle strokes in her, completely composed and unhurried. In a conversational tone he replied:

"That's all right. I'm enjoying being in that lovely crotch of yours, with all the beautiful hair around me. I can feel that bush of yours crushed between us, and it's great."

She lifted her long, lovely legs in the air to lock them around the small of his back. "Well, if you don't mind my not coming, please be my guest."

Lorraine rocked away beneath him for a few minutes, expertly matching her thrusts to his. The others in the room were no longer watching, having lost interest in this more mundane activity. Marv was enjoying himself hugely but with composure, lifting himself up on his knees to withdraw almost completely, then plunging his cock back into her again so vigorously that their loins made an audible slap when they came together.

Martha had rolled over beside them and lifted herself on one elbow to watch them, as if with envy. Marv noticed her and removed one hand from Lorraine's shoulder to place it between the redhead's legs, where he began to fondle her cunt.

After a few more strokes he stopped his thrusting to lift himself on his arms, the fingers of one hand still between Martha's thighs. Speaking down to Lorraine he asked her: "No chance whatever of my making you come?" She smiled up at him in a friendly fashion and patted him on the shoulder. "None whatever. I'm absolutely numb down there. Maybe later in the evening, but not now."

"Okay, then. If you don't mind, I think I'll shoot my load in Martha. I'd like to try a little of that redhead stuff too."

"Not at all," Lorraine replied. "That's a hot little pussy. I can vouch for that."

Martha lay down on her back and spread her legs. Marv pulled his still-stiff cock out of Lorraine and moved from her body to the tiny redhead's, who promptly seized it and guided it to the place as Lorraine had done. Marv grunted as he shoved it in; hesitated, before beginning a slow, almost hesitant thrusting.

"I'm afraid this won't take very long, Martha. I'm so aroused this thing is going to go off pretty quick."

"That's all right," she said soothingly. "I couldn't come for hours. You just go off whenever you feel like." She put her fingers on the nape of his neck and began to caress it, crooning to him very softly.

"You just go ahead, big daddy, and juice your little redhead as soon as you feel like it." A continuing slow roll of her hips, punctuated by the words: "My, but that's a nice big stiff prick you've got inside me. It feels wonderful up in me, even if I can't get my gun off to show you how good it is to have it up there."

That did it. Marv tried to hold back, at least for a few more strokes, but without even moving his hips he ejected into Martha. When she felt him come she tightened her thighs to give him a solid friction against which to eject. Spewed empty, breathing heavily, he rolled off between the two girls.

Content, Marv spoke to both of them. "I wish you two girls would come over to my house and give my wife fucking lessons. Both of you are the greatest lays I've ever had."

Lorraine laughed. "That's just because we're strange stuff to you. I'll bet the man who is balling your wife is saying the same thing to her right now."

Martha contributed: "I'm beginning to think no man really enjoys his own wife in bed. That's why Gregory insisted we start coming to Roger's parties. He said if he and I were going to bang, he wanted me to learn how to do it right."

"I think you do it great," Marv told her. "You too, Lorraine."

Modestly, both girls replied, "Thank you."

Karen was listening to all this and by now had gone beyond the stages of surprise and disgust and, ultimately, fear. At this point she was perilously close to what a doctor would diagnose as the edge of shock; true shock, which incapacitates by depriving the individual of voluntary movement or resistance. She glanced around the room; saw couples everywhere, nude, locked in sexual embrace. Others, apparently having completed a sex act, were laying in each other's arms; smoking, sipping drinks, talking, watching others.

Barbara and Gwen had abandoned the couch and Karen saw them now, on the other side of the room. Bruce had put a bracelet and leash on each of them, tying the two leashes together. These he handed to Roger, who was waiting for a recording to end before commencing the bidding. Karen's attention was drawn back to the trio because Lorraine was asking Martha:

"Does your husband really tell you that you are a lousy lay?"

"Oh he's not really nasty about it, but he does intimate in a kidding-on-the-square way that I'm nowhere nearly so good as a lot he's had."

Marv spoke emphatically. "Well, I've had my share of tail too, and I'm telling you that you're as good as the best."

"You're also very good at balling a girl," Lorraine grinned.

Martha was a trifle embarrassed. "That was a first for me. Maybe that will help me improve."

Marv asked her very seriously: "Do you suck cock?"

"I'm trying to learn but I don't seem to be much good at it. Greg says I either bite him or don't come on strong enough."

"Well, I'll bet you're good at that too. Let's wait an hour or two until I get pumped up and have a go at it."

Lorraine spoke up: "I can help you with that, too, Martha. That's one thing my husband says I'm good at." She giggled. "You know I really enjoy it. I like to have a man's thing in my mouth between my teeth, and know I could bite down on it until he screamed. Maybe it gives me a feeling of power to know I could bite it off if I wanted to."

Marv looked at her a little askance. "I don't believe I'm going to let you go down on me, if you have ideas like that in your head."

"Don't worry," she assured him. "I've never done it to any man. Just thought about it a few times."

The music ended and DeWilde began his patter. "Only a few more items to be disposed of, and as usual we've been saving the best for the last. Here's a lovely matched pair. They'll cost you money but they're worth it. They work singly or in double harness; get two for only slightly more than the price of one and have the time of your life. Let's start the bidding off at a hundred and a half for the pair."

He got his hundred and a half which quickly moved up to two and then two and a quarter. It hung there for a time. To keep it moving, De Wilde interjected: "This lovely girl is Gwen, and it's her first time on one of our auction blocks. Her chum is Barbara, one of our long-time friends and always a joy to every man who has ever bought her. Their purchase price goes to a very worthy charity- namely, their mutual boyfriend Bruce." A general laugh at that, followed by a bid of two hundred and fifty dollars, where the action died. DeWilde knocked them down at that price to a tall, sandy-haired chap named Edgar.

He promptly paid his bill and led them away to a wide Oriental divan in an alcove off of the main body of the room, in a direct line of vision from where Karen was sitting, just beyond where Marv, Lorraine and Martha were still reclining on the floor. Edgar was the first to speak. "I've been waiting all evening for Roger to put you two on the block. I was determined to go to any price to have you.

Barbara replied: "You bought me at one of Roger's auctions a few months ago, didn't you?

"That was almost a year ago," he replied, "and I've never forgotten it. I've been away a lot and when he invited me tonight, I hoped you'd be here." A grin-"I had no idea I'd be lucky enough to get a parlay out of it."

Gwen giggled. "I've been laid a lot of ways but never parlayed. How do you do it?"

"Let's find out," he suggested. "Both of you take your clothes off."

He started to disrobe himself and was stripped as soon as they were. Together the three of them stretched out on the divan looking at each other's nakedness. Edgar lay on his back, his erect penis standing stiffly upright, and Karen could see both it and the shadow it cast on the wall behind them. Both girls reached for it at the same time, to caress its swollen length.

It was about the same size as the thing she had seen sticking out of Marvin, she noted, but seemed to have more of an upward curve to it. It, too, was considerably smaller than the tool DeWilde had used on her.

Now Edgar was rubbing Gwen's buttocks. She was speaking to him. "You're not circumcised. I like that. I like to feel a foreskin rubbing up and down in me."

Barbara lowered her face to his loins and rubbed her cheeks against his cock. "Mmmm good," she murmured. "I remembered you had a very nice one -big enough to fill me up but not big enough to hurt."

Edgar pulled Gwen's head down until it rested on his belly. "Sweet little baby, come blow my horn."

She laughed as she slid her head lower, opened her mouth and engulfed the head of it with her lips. Grasping the shaft with her hand, she massaged it with long, slow, steady, full length strokes while sucking greedily. After a few seconds Edgar moaned; said:

"Take it easy with the tongue action, Gwen- that's a sensitive little thing." She must have complied because he relaxed and a smile of contentment crossed his face.

His next words were to Barbara. "How about a little bitty tittie?" Laughing, she swung around so that her body was over his, braced on her elbows, and lowered her chest until her right breast was draped across his mouth. Edgar's tongue appeared to trace a lazy circle around her corona with the tip, tickle the nipple for a second or two, then his lips closed over it as he began to nurse on her.

Soon Barbara spoke. "Now you're giving me a hard on." In response, his left hand slipped beneath her body, searched and found her crotch, began to manipulate the center of her sensations where it stood up, tiny but proud, at the top of her gash of womanhood.

She wriggled her hips in appreciation.

It was Gwen who spoke next. Lifting her head from his belly, she asked: "Edgar, are you leaking or coming? It's really running out of you."

He had to remove Barbara's breast from his mouth to reply. "You're playing such a beautiful tune on my organ that you've got me ready to shoot. Better quit for a little bit or you'll put me off."

Gwen continued to play with his balls, keeping her mouth away from his penis head and her fingers off of the shaft. He breathed deeply, then pulled her hips toward him. Spreading her legs, he buried his face between her legs as his searching tongue probed for her slit. Finding it, he began to lick the tiny little penis at its top, her clitoris, moving alternately down and away from it to run his tongue the full length of her womanly opening; probing inside it to titillate its delicate inner tissues as deeply as he could reach.

"Ooooh, God, that's so good," she moaned. "Oooh, God, that's just heaven," she sighed as she wriggled her hips in joyous response.

Without stopping the probing of his tongue, Edgar reached out a hand to Barbara, urging her over to lie beside them. She did, and he began to manipulate her pussy with his fingers, spreading its lips with his fingers, elongating the folds of flesh and rolling them backward so that her moist red inner meat was exposed. He manipulated her until she, too, was writhing in the beginnings of arousal.

At that point he lifted his head from Gwen's cunt, placed his hand behind Barbara's neck and urged her toward the place he had vacated. A sort of stricken look came into her eyes as she said:

"Oh, please, Edgar-I've never eaten pussy. I just couldn't."

Soothingly he urged: "Go ahead, Barb. It tastes just like cock only it's got more vitamins in it."

She hesitated a long second, staring at him, then slowly, obediently, lowered her head to Gwen's loins and put her tongue to work.

Edgar moved out from between them to station himself alongside Gwen's head. Gently but with great strength he grasped Barbara's hips in his arms and lifted the lower half of her body into the air, moving it sideways and lowering it over Gwen's upturned face so that Barbara's bent legs were on each side of it. Reaching between them from the rear he spread the lips of her vagina, smoothed the pussy hair back and said to Gwen:

"Here. Eat."

Gwen's protest was merely a startled look upward at the exposed womanhood above her. Edgar soothed: "Just go ahead and do to it what feels good when someone does it to you."

Tentatively, experimentally, Gwen extended just the tip of her tongue and barely touched the wet, red flesh above. At the contact, a quivering began in Barbara's loins and her hips lowered to make a more solid contact with the exciting tongue. At the same time she increased her own activity in Gwen's womanhood. Gwen's response was a more wholehearted probing of Barbara, and soon the two girls had abandoned themselves utterly to the joy of bringing and being brought to climax.

Edgar sat on the divan beside them, watching with enjoyment the struggling pair, occasionally rubbing his hands with a soothing motion over parts of their bodies. He massaged Barbara's upturned back; ran his hands up and down Gwen's extended thighs.

Both girls reached climax at the same time, each in her own way. On the bottom, as she exploded Gwen reached her arms up to clasp them around Barbara's buttocks, at the same time locking her legs around the girl's neck as if trying to strangle her, or to absorb her utterly. Barbara thrust her face deeply into Gwen's pussy as if to tear it out of her by the roots, meanwhile beginning a rapid pumping of her hips which rubbed her cunt against Gwen's mouth as if trying to shove her womanhood all the way into her throat.

The violence of their lust spent, Barbara removed herself from Gwen and swung around to sit, facing her and Edgar.

"Well my goodness, that's really something, isn't it?" she said to both of them.

Musingly, Gwen replied: "I knew a lesbian once who told me that no man can make a woman as happy as another woman can, because only another woman can know exactly what feels right, and how much, and just where and how to do it."

Barbara answered: "I never believed stuff like that-not until now." A grin-"Maybe the next time I don't have a date and I get real horny, I'll call you up and ask you to ball me again."

Gwen's voice sounded sincere as she replied: "Any time, Barb, any time."

Edgar stretched himself out on his back in the center of the divan and interrupted: "Now me, ladies-it's my turn."

If his penis had been erect before, it was now monumentally hard. It stood up from between his legs like a flagpole, like a fence post, like a bridge piling waiting to be driven. Both girls giggled. To the observing Karen, it seemed to have grown in length and thickness during the girl's byplay.

"We're going to have a contest, to see who gets my load. Each of you is going to ride the pony, and you get ten strokes each, turn and turn about, to put me off in. I'm going to lie dead still without moving and let you jack me off with your pussy. Or pussies, I guess it should be," he added.

"Who gets into the saddle first?" Barbara asked.

Edgar considered. "Gwen, I guess, because I've never balled her before."

Gwen kneeled alongside of him, lifted her right leg and threw it across his body so that she was astride his pelvis on her knees. She grasped the head of his cock between her thumb and forefinger, placing it carefully in her hole, tucking the head of it in as far as her fingers could reach.

Then, with both of her hands on the shaft to brace it for entry, she spread her knees a little farther apart on each side of his body and began to lower herself onto the supine man.

"Take it easy, now," she cautioned. "That's a big stiff thing you've got and my pussy hasn't stretched to fit it yet."

"It's all yours, Gwen," he told her. "You're running the show."

Carefully the girl eased herself down on it, raising and lowering her body with her thighs to stretch herself and spread her lubrication, getting a fraction of an inch more inside her on every gentle down-stroke.

"Do these strokes count?" she suddenly inquired.

"No. We start counting after you've got it all the way in."

She continued her efforts and soon contained it all. She relaxed the muscles of her thighs so that the full weight of her body rested on his pelvis, fully stabbed by his tool, her rectum nestling against the top of his scrotum.

Gwen spoke. "Wow. That's a lot of cock up there, in this position. I think I can feel the head of it in the back of my throat."

"You're stalling, and that's cheating," Barbara accused. "Start pumping while I count."

Gwen grinned at her. She placed her hands on Edgar's belly to give herself balance, rolled her hips backward and forward for ten lazy, full length massages of his cock while Barbara kept score. When her ten was reached, she put her weight on one knee and swung her other leg up and off Edgar, thus dismounting.

Barbara practically jumped on him, to seize his cock with one hand, place it in her opening and slam her body down upon it with one movement.

"See, Gwen?" she said to the other girl. "That's the right way to take a man's dick in you."

"After I get it all slicked up, it is. I'd like to see you do it dry, to one that size."

"You know I was only kidding, honey," she soothed. "Keep count."

Ten languorous strokes later, Gwen took her place, this time slamming herself down on Edgar's prick as Barbara had done. She had her try, then dismounted. It went on and on, Karen watching as if observing the antics of a group of playful animals.

That was it, she thought. They were all animals, crazy animals. It didn't matter what they did because they were all crazy. She was in a madhouse and these were the inmates and if she didn't keep very, very quiet they would turn on her and kill her. Even stronger than the Puritanical inhibitions which had been ingrained in her during her upbringing was the basic animal desire for self-preservation; the urge to live, to survive at all cost. This urge was uppermost in her now, making her mask her disgust, her nausea, even her fear behind a completely expressionless face.

The turn-about riding contest continued, until all of a sudden Edgar's hands whipped up from his sides, grasped the waist of the girl above him and pulled her down fiercely to his body while his back arched to thrust his hips upwards in one seemingly agonized drive. His face contorted as he ejaculated. While he grimaced, a beautiful smile came to the lips of the girl as she felt his semen flow into her.

Turning to the other girl, she said: "I win."

It was Gwen.

Karen was not the only one who had been watching the riding academy session. Marv, Lorraine and Martha had been taking it all in, silently, Lorraine's hand in Marvin's lap absentmindedly playing with his cock as she watched.

When the trio on the divan had finished, Martha turned to her companion and said: "See? I wouldn't know how to do a fancy job of balling a man like that. All I can do is lay on my back and let a man fuck me." Morosely: "No wonder my husband would rather have any girl's ass than mine."

Marv was moved by this tiny, appealing little redhead. "He's crazy, honey. You're a great little bang."

"No I'm not," she insisted, "and I know it. George says that laying me is merely masturbation using my pussy instead of his hand to jack off in. He says I'm the kind of woman that makes them call the sex act a lay-I lay there while he does it to me."

Lorraine said, quietly: "I don't think your husband is very nice."

Martha didn't seem to hear the remark. Instead she turned to Lorraine and said: "Somehow I'm always the one laying on her back, looking up and taking it between her legs. Even with you, I just got on my back, spread my legs and let you fuck me."

"Did you mind it?"

"No-it just seemed the natural thing for me to do. Anybody wants it, in it goes."

The girl seemed to want to talk and both Marv and Lorraine were sympathetic listeners.

"I always wanted to be popular and well liked but somehow I never was. Maybe because I'm so little. In high school, most of the girls were as well developed as I am now, while I was an even skinnier little thing. My father used to say it didn't matter if I wore a topless bathing suit or not-nobody would notice."

"You seem to have known several nasty men in your life," Marv observed.

"Maybe. Anyhow, when I was fifteen, I went to the movies with this boy. My first date with him. He was sixteen. After the show, we drove out in the hills and parked. He didn't say anything to me at all. Didn't ask me anything; didn't even kiss me. He just parked, rolled up the windows, pushed me over on my back on the front seat and reached up under my skirt to pull my panties off. Then he turned the front of my skirt up neatly around my waist, slipped down his trousers and bogged his peter into me. All without even asking if I minded."

"Didn't you scream or struggle?" Marv queried.

"I thought I wasn't supposed to, I guess. I guess I thought he'd be angry if I made a fuss. I remember it hurt like hell going in, and hurt worse after he got it in and went to work on me, but I never let out a sound. I was afraid he'd get mad if I complained."

"The little bastard."

"Oh, he didn't do anything any other boy wouldn't. It just seems that-well, I seem to have been born to be the one on the bottom. Every boy who took me out banged me, and none of them seemed to think it was good enough to keep coming back for more. Not very many times, anyway. After a few years of that, a girl gets to thinking that she isn't really very much of a person."

Marv spoke very solemnly. "And when she thinks of herself that way, very soon it becomes true."

Lorraine said with conviction: "Well, I think you're very cute, and there are thousands of men who would agree. Not all of them go for a big horse of a girl with huge boobs. Lots of men are turned on by what they call the cute, dainty, petite, and you're all of those things."

"Look, Martha," Marv told her, "you are as cute as a bug's ear. You've got a perfect little figure and all the parts necessary to be rated as a complete woman. All you need is a little confidence in yourself and a man to show you how to do something else besides laying on your back and taking it between your legs. Now, I'll make you a proposition. We'll have to be very discreet because these parties are supposed to be one-night-stands only and it's against the rules to get anything started. However, just for a few months, let's you and me get together a couple of afternoons a week, while your husband is at work, and let me-well, get you up off of your back."

She seemed impressed. "Do you really think you could?"

"You can be as good at fancy fucking as any of 'em, if you will only get that defeatist attitude out of your head. You could be the star of these parties instead of an also-ran, if you just learn to turn yourself loose."

Martha smiled at him. "It's a deal," she said and, leaning forward, gave him an affectionate kiss on the lips to seal the bargain.

Lorraine nudged Marv. "Start now," she told him. "Give her a cock sucking lesson and I'll help."

Marv looked down at his groin and saw what Lorraine had already noticed; that his tool stood up straight and proud, ready for further action.

He stretched out on his back on the floor. "Come on, Martha, take that thing in your mouth and let Lorraine teach you how to polish my pole."

Karen observed both girls stretch themselves out across the man's recumbent figure, Martha taking his organ in her mouth as the other woman began giving her instructions in a tone too low for Karen to hear.

Her attention was drawn away from them by the voices of several men talking to DeWilde on the other side of the room. They were louder than usual; not argumentative, but persuading. One of the voices was saying:

"But when are you? You promised us."

Then Roger was saying something, and another man replied:

"Well, I don't believe it anyway. Nobody is these days, except maybe a little kid."

She heard Roger saying: "But it's true. I swear it."

A third man came back: "You mean, only twice?" Roger, positively: "Twice. And me, both times- once Saturday noon, and again this morning. That's all."

The first voice said: "Well, you've got to, or I'll never come to one of your auctions again. I'll start the bidding off right now at two hundred dollars."

Another cut in: "Cheapskate. I'll make it three."

Roger cut them off with: "Hold it, you guys. The bidding hasn't even started yet."

Several of them at once: "Well, it better." Karen's attention wandered; came back to the trio on the floor in front of her. Apparently Marv was getting ready to come in her mouth and Martha, to judge from the gleam in her eye and the rapid motions of her hands, was excited and happy about her approaching success. Karen didn't understand the conversation she had heard among the men on the far side of the room. It didn't make any sense, but then neither did any of the other crazy happenings in this house. They were all crazy and she would just have to endure until she could escape; escape without infuriating any of these madmen enough to make them kill her.

She saw Roger break off from the group and come toward her. He was naked, his pendulous belly swinging from side to side as he walked. His ugly thing was limp, hanging straight down between his legs, she noticed, still bigger in its softness than most of the other men here were in erection. He had something in his hands; a leash attached to a leather collar, not a silver bracelet like the other girls were wearing. He walked up to her and said:

"Come, dear Karen. You've been so quiet this evening I'll bet you have felt neglected. Here"-he extended both hands, slipped the collar around her neck and fastened the buckle-"let me lead you up to the auction block. A lot of eager suitors are waiting to bid on you."

She sat sill, absolutely frozen to her chair. Her eyes flew open to their widest possible span. She looked up at him in terror.

DeWilde urged her in the gentlest of voices. "Come on, my dear. Our guests are waiting." With that he gave a slight twitch of the dog leash in his hand and the collar jerked once against her neck.

Karen put her feet on the floor, rose on trembling legs and followed DeWilde to the other side of the room.