Chapter 8

"Get up, my dear." DeWilde spoke in a courteous, pleasant tone. Gasping, Karen managed to haul herself to her feet. She stood facing him. Measuring the distance between them with his eye, DeWilde moved a few inches closer, drew back his right fist and landed a solid punch squarely in the pit of Karen's stomach. It wasn't a hard blow for a man of his strength; if he had really put his weight behind it he would have killed her. He contented himself with just connecting solidly, driving his fist into the soft flesh of her belly until his knuckles were buried in her.

The wind was driven from her and she sank to her knees; fell forward onto her hands. When the first gasping breath of air returned to her she vomited. It had been so long since she had eaten that she had no solids in her stomach to throw up. Instead, sour green stomach bile poured from her mouth to dribble on the floor, gagging her. Nauseated by her own ejection, she threw up again.

Expertly DeWilde grabbed one of her supporting arms, twisted it behind her back and shoved her hand up toward her shoulder blade. Holding it in this position with one hand, with the palm of the other he pounded upward sharply on the point of her elbow, driving the twisted arm up further. Karen screamed. Dragging her by the twisted arm, he pulled her to the adjoining dining area, throwing her roughly on the floor.

She lay on her back looking up at him, eyes wide with terror. DeWilde leaned over her, grabbed one of her knees to pull her legs roughly apart, then with a vise-like grip reached between her legs to ram his thumb up her vagina, his index finger up her rectum both as far as they would go, then pinched them together until the fingernails tore into her tender inner flesh. With this strong grip he shook her body back and forth, as one would swing something he was trying to tear out.

Karen howled and tried to twist away from him. No use-it only made her pain more intense. Satisfied, DeWilde gave her tender organs another couple of shakes and turned her loose.

Still speaking in a kind, almost friendly tone, DeWilde said:

"That bit with the razor blades was a very, very foolish thing for you to do, my dear. I had planned to send you home in a few days with a present in the form of a sizable sum of cash, but if you feel so desperately about things, I'll have to make other arrangements."

Despite his pleasant tone, inside DeWilde was seething. This dumb fucking broad was making such a big thing about a little balling. Plenty of girls would be damn glad to accept an invitation to one of his auction parties. Women came up to him all the time and hinted how they'd like to participate. Some young girls, when they saw the thousand dollars in cash he had sent home with them, had announced they'd like to be invited back the next weekend.

Now this one had been on the verge of killing herself; would have succeeded if he had been a few minutes later getting home. It would have meant an inquest and the spreading of all sorts of stories. He gave an inward shudder at the thought.

Well, he'd have to see that this broad made the same trip which a little girl named Elsie had taken a few years back when she had put up a fuss. He'd gotten her pregnant during a week-long fucking session between just the two of them. He remembered how she had told him she adored the size of his prick, that she couldn't get enough of it, and the more it stretched her the better she liked it. It had been great fucking, that week, and he had outdone himself.

Only thing was, the little bitch either forgot or deliberately neglected to take her daily pill. Two months later, when she knew for certain she was knocked up, she had come to him. He had offered to pay for an abortion but she had refused, saying it was against her religion. Instead, she had demanded he sign an agreement of child support until the little bastard was twenty-one.

So, instead, he sold her for two thousand dollars, he recalled with grim satisfaction. He had driven her up to a small town in Nevada and turned her over to some friends of his who operated a whorehouse in that state. A good looking white girl was currently bringing that amount, even if knocked up. A young beauty like Karen would fetch three thousand easily. They'd have to tame her first, slam her around a bit when she tried to escape as some of them did. Then they'd send in a succession of men to her room in one evening-trainers, they were known as in the business-who would ball the hell out of her. After a few such evenings she'd accept herself as being a whore and obey docilely until she was too old to serve as a semen receptacle anymore.

Yes, DeWilde reflected, Karen would have to make the same trip which Elsie had taken. He'd keep here for a few more days and enjoy her, meanwhile making a few phone calls to his Nevada syndicate friends. A broad this good would be worth shopping around, taking competitive bids.

He glanced down at her. "Now that you've caught your breath, my dear, I want you to clean up the mess you made in the kitchen and then come to my room." He smiled at her pleasantly but waited until he saw her begin to obey his orders.

In the kitchen, hunting for a rag, Karen could see easily into the dining area. She heard Brace's voice saying something like good-bye, Ted, heard the front door open and close; saw Brace, fully dressed, come into the dining area to stand firmly in front of DeWilde.

"Say, what is this? What was the screaming I heard?"

"Oh, just a little family discipline. Sometimes young people need straightening out, you know."

"Yeah? Well, not my young people. That girl belongs to me for the rest of the week, so you keep your hands off of her."

A pause. DeWilde spoke. "You know, I'm beginning to regret that deal already. I think I had too much booze in me when I was running that auction. What do you say I cancel your verbal I.O.U. and we just call it square? That way you've had a free ride last night and today, and neither of us owes the other anything."

The reply was prompt. "Fair enough. It sounded great to me last night too, but today is a different matter."

There was a awkward silence, which DeWilde broke by asking:

"Care for a drink?"

"No thanks. I think I'll split for home now. Barbara and Gwen will probably be wondering where I am."

DeWilde was all affable charm. "Come back soon. You know how to let yourself out."

Bruce went back to the bedroom for a minute; emerged carrying his travel bag and left. The front door seemed to sound more final in its closing than it had at other times, Karen thought.

"Now it's just you and me, my dear, and I'm sure you won't try anything foolish again. How about a nice steak and a tossed green salad for dinner? Got to keep your strength up, you know." He patted her cheek gently before striding into the kitchen. Somehow the pat was more offensive than his abuse of her had been. Her skin crawled at his touch.

DeWilde mixed himself a double vodka martini before starting his kitchen chores. He sipped it appreciatively; set it down to light the gas burner beneath the char broiler and pushed the switch to start the vent fan whirring above it.

"Guess we'll have them char broiled tonight," he chatted. "Just fresh lime juice on the salad and a glass of cabernet sauvignon with which to wash it down. How does that sound?"

Dumbly she nodded agreement.

"By the way," he went on casually, "I'm going to invite some friends over tonight after dinner. Just a few of the boys-it'll be a stag party."

He paused. "Except for you, my dear-except for you."

Karen dried the last of the dishes and began methodically to put them away. DeWilde had stalled while making dinner, enough to give himself time to drink three more double martinis before eating. He hadn't gotten drunk but the four strong drinks did serve to make him more expansive, more affable, and somehow terribly menacing. He had finished off most of a fifth of the dry red cabernet wine during the meal, ending the repast with a golden glow. He had leaned back with satisfaction in his chair at the dining alcove table, watching her in a half-doze as she busied herself cleaning up.

The outfit she was wearing bothered her because she felt ridiculous in it. From somewhere he had dug up this costume before they had begun to eat, telling her to put it on; explaining briefly that it had been left over from a costume party he had given. She could only describe it to herself as a harem girl's outfit. It consisted of two pieces; pantaloons of a flowing cut which belled but were fastened tightly around her ankles by embroidered cuffs. Their waistband too was of embroidered satin; a wide one, which fitted tightly around her hips but came up only to just below her navel. The pantaloons themselves were made of a sheer diaphanous material, a sort of gauze, which could be seen through plainly. She glanced down now and saw clearly the little mole on the front of her right thigh. She could also see the dark mass of her own pubic hair pushing out slightly the front of the gauzy material.

The top piece was a sleeveless vest made of heavy satin richly brocaded in gold thread woven through the ivory colored cloth. It had no fastenings down the front and was cut to hang open slightly. Since DeWilde had given her no other garment to wear beneath it, when she stood perfectly still its open front revealed the curves of her breasts. If she moved at all the vest swung free to reveal her breasts almost in their entirety.

Practically speaking, she was nude, she knew, and she realized it portended another evening of horror for her. She thought with regret of the chance she had missed today to end it all and wondered if she would get another chance tomorrow morning, or perhaps even tonight. It all depended upon how deeply DeWilde would sleep when the evening was over.

Finished dishwashing, she stood uncertainly. DeWilde noticed; roused himself enough to stand up and beckon to her to follow him to the living room. Once there he sank into a large overstuffed chair, waving her to a seat opposite him on one of the huge cut-velvet divans.

"You look very pretty in that outfit, my dear," he told her. "Far more lovely than the woman who wore it the first time."

She tried to say a perfunctory thank you but the words stuck in her throat.

"I hope you'll like my friends that you're going to meet tonight," he went on. "There'll be three of them. Karl and Emma- they're German, originally, but have lived in this country for some years. The third will be Lorenzo, whom we call Larry. Some people might think they are-uh-odd types, but they do take an uninhibited joy in their own type of pleasure."

He paused, reflectively, then went on, almost as if apologizing: "Once in awhile, not often, I find a certain pleasure in joining their fun."

The crunching sound of a car turning up the driveway was followed by the chimes of the front door. Roger rose to open it, greeting warmly the single man who arrived. Karen could see the two of them standing together in the entrance hallway. The man seemed to be a larger version of DeWilde himself. Some two or three inches taller, he too was pudgy, with thin, almost transparent white skin stretched over chubby rolls of fat. His hair, however, was blondish-white, and thin; quite thin and sparse, worn tightly plastered down to his domed, arching forehead. His suit, too, was a little too tight for him, giving him the appearance of a monstrous kew-pie doll which had been dressed in clothes too snug for a good fit.

"Come in, come in," DeWilde boomed as he led the man back to the living room. Karen tried to shrug herself into the jacket but it failed to cover her bulging breasts completely. "Karen, may I present Larry, one of my best friends. Larry, meet my latest little charmer."

"Beautiful, absolutely beautiful," Larry beamed down at her, a cherubic smile lighting up his face. His lips were thick, pouting, sensual, and he licked them with the tip of a pink tongue. "How very nice to meet you, my dear."

The American ceremony of offering a drink, its acceptance and selection, the mixing of it and the serving were complied with. Larry sipped the scotch-and-water he had requested and stared at her, devouring her with his eyes.

Again the car crunching, the wait, the pealing of the chimes. Roger rose to admit a couple who paused only briefly in the hallway, practically sweeping past him directly to the living room.

Something about them was a shock to Karen. The woman was tall, nearly six feet, and was wearing a coal black leather coat whose skirt swirled around her ankles. She wore a black leather hat of a Cossack cut, long blonde hair swinging free over her shoulders. In one hand was a thick, black leather case, somewhat like the one in which a trombonist carries his horn.

Behind her was a man at least a foot shorter than she, wearing a pearl grey trench coat of a military cut. He, too, was blond and fair skinned; carrying himself with the same military bearing as the woman in spite of his short stature. Without saying a word, both seemed fiercely intimidating.

DeWilde spoke. "Emma, Karl, this is Karen-a newly-found friend."

Both of their faces creased in what were intended to be smiles. Both murmured a greeting with a thick German accent. This much politeness over with, Emma handed her black case to Karl and swept off her coat. Beneath it Karen was somehow shocked to see she was wearing a sort of black leather suit having extremely short hotpants. Her leather boots with high heels fully covered her legs up to her knees but above them was a long expanse of bare flesh up to the shorts, which were cut so they covered her crotch and pelvis but no more.

The top of her outfit was a black leather bodice with long sleeves cut up high around the neck where it fastened with a high-standing, military-type collar. The woman was slim, wiry, except that she had a huge bust: great jutting breasts which the garment had been carefully cut to fit, so that they could stick out as if she were concealing a couple of cantaloupes.

Karl struggled out of his coat unaided and threw it over a convenient chair.

"Schnapps, as usual?" DeWilde inquired. They nodded vigorously. He poured, handing the two glasses of fiery liquid to his guests. Both of them tossed the drinks down with one movement. They stared fixedly at Karen, taking in every detail of her body. Her skin crawled under their staring gaze.

Seconds, minutes, or maybe they were hours which passed; Karen didn't know. It was quiet, deathly quiet, and her breath seemed to be terribly noisy as it whistled in and out of her lungs.

It was DeWilde who broke the trance. "Well, shall we begin?"

Larry jumped at his words as if he had been shot. He seemed to squirm under the eyes which were turned to him. Slowly he began to undress, dropping his clothing on the floor as he took them off. He had trouble untying his shoes because of his pendulous belly but finally succeeded. Standing before them naked, he seemed somehow ridiculous.

Karen stared at him with growing shock. Was it a woman? she wondered. This man seemed to have no cock or balls at all. A fairly thick growth of curly blond hair sprouted from between his legs but only a little lump of pink flesh poked out from somewhere near the top of it. What might have been a scrotum was pulled up tightly against his groin and only two small round lumps indicated what might have been testicles.

Emma spoke positively. "Ja, ve begin." She unbuttoned the leather tunic and pulled it off, handing it to Karl who folded it carefully. Now the gigantic breasts poked straight out like twin mountains. She had broad, strong shoulders and arms muscled like a man. Bare except for the brief shorts which fitted her like a second skin and her high black boots, she seemed to be the incarnation of strength and evil.

Karl opened the long, black case and extended it to her. Emma studied its contents thoughtfully before reaching in. Making her decision, she removed something from the case and then turned to face Larry. Now Karen could see that she had some sort of whip in her hand; a leather whip with a stiff butt about four feet long and a flexible braided lash on the end of it perhaps six feet in length. This she held in her right hand and with a flick of her wrist she made the flexible portion of it wriggle on the floor in front of her like a frenzied snake. She spoke.

"Now, Lorenzo, you must be disciplined. There's nothing wrong with you that a little discipline won't cure."

The strong right arm curled backward in a side-arm motion like a baseball pitcher's windup, then swung forward as the flexible lash on the end curled around Larry's pasty-white body. He made not a sound at the contact; did not even flinch. Again the arm swung up and back, flew forward and the lash wrapped around him. Back, forward, back, forward, and each time the lash encountered his flesh.

The first points of contact were glowing red now from the injuries the lash had done to his skin. Still he made not a sound. His eyes were closed and his teeth clenched. Karen, watching, was in a state of shocked horror at this vicious punishment of a fellow human being.

As she watched, she saw an amazing thing begin to happen. The little knob of pink flesh began to protrude. The twin mounds beneath it began to descend; to become more prominent. As the lashing continued more and more of the pink flesh peeped out until it became recognizable to her as a cock. The testicles had come down far enough to be clearly a pair of balls, hanging in a properly hairy ball-sack.

Her attraction was distracted by Karl who was moving toward her. He knelt by her side as he fumbled with the waistband of her pantaloons. She realized he was removing them; made no resistance as he pushed her onto her back and slid them down over her hips. He unfastened the cuffs at her ankles and slid them off of her. Satisfied, Karl returned to Emma's side.

The strongly-built woman continued her punishment of the man in front of her, whose back was now criss-crossed with a checkered pattern like a madman's game of tic-tac-toe. At her every stroke, her big breasts jiggled madly from side to side in an erotic dance of their own. Karen saw that now Larry's cock stuck up proudly before him, thin yet sinewy and long. It was at least two or three inches longer than Bruce's, but no bigger around then Ted's little-boy cock. It was an amazing thing to look at, more like a bare stick held between his legs than a real prick. Beneath it dangled two balls as large as apples.

Emma paused; stared fixedly at it, as if taking deliberate aim. Once more her arm swung back and then forward, this time depositing the curling lash directly between his legs, making the painful leather wrap itself around cock, balls and all.

Now Larry emitted his first sound. He gave a positive roar of agony, then hurled himself forward to land on top of Karen with crushing power. Automatically her legs opened to receive him. Like an animal, he jabbed at her until the head of it found the place, then with a hunching forward of his hips he stabbed her with the whole painful length of his long thin stick as a soldier would bayonet an enemy in a foxhole.

That was what it felt like to Karen, too. It felt like he had jabbed a sharp sword up her cunt, skewering her insides like a chicken trussed for broiling. It went all the way up inside her, further than any man had ever been, and the pain was so intense it exceeded anything she had ever known.

She was in such agony she couldn't cry out; she needed all the strength she had to bear the pain without fainting.

Larry began a mad thrusting in her, furiously punching his cock in and out of her as if trying to tear it off of his own body to leave it embedded in hers. There was no passion, no lust, no sensuality involved; he was merely in the grip of a mad desire to ejaculate in her as quickly as possible.

His violent movements lasted only a minute or two. In that time his loins began to stiffen, his muscles tensed and suddenly he was ejaculating in her shooting great gouts of hot seminal fluid into her body. Almost immediately it began to trickle back out again since the diameter of his fleshy plug was too small to keep it bottled up. He continued to flow in her and his fluid drained back out, to drip between her buttocks.

Satisfied, he rolled onto the floor beside the couch, groaning. Karl leaned over him with a jar of some sort of ointment in his hands, first daubing it on and then massaging it into the welts which decorated his back. Larry was free to express his pain now, and a groan greeted Karl's every touch.

Emma's voice filled the room again. "Now we teach discipline to the little one." Karl stopped his ministrations, turned to Karen and removed the scanty vest she was wearing. Now the shocked girl lay bare on the couch, Emma eagerly devouring the ripe young breasts with her eyes. She turned to the case to remove a short dog whip.

"We help the little girl with her learning," Emma declared positively. Roger moved closer to Karen and slowly started to remove his clothing.

The sound of a car coming up the driveway filtered into the room, followed by a squeal of tires whose brakes were hastily applied. The sound stopped Emma's arm in mid-air. "I thought you said we would be alone tonight?"

"We will be," DeWilde assured her. "I'll get rid of whomever it is." He rebuttoned the front of his shirt as a knock which somehow sounded timid came from the front door. It was a soft scratching as much as it was a knock. From their position in the living room, the group could neither see into nor be seen from the entry hall but they could clearly hear the sound of the chain being removed and the door opening. They heard DeWilde speak first.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" A man's voice replied in a shy, almost diffident tone. "I just hate to bother you, Mr. DeWilde, but something has come up that I felt you ought to know about right away."

Karen recognized who was speaking. It was Doug Morgan.