Chapter 5

Lucille Bryson hadn't heard their terse conversation. She was still sobbing breathlessly as her scarlet, well-paddled bare behind wriggled uneasily in the still-painful aftermath of its anguished ordeal. But she was beginning to become aware of things other than her feverishly inflamed gluteal region: embarrassedly aware. The heat in her buttock-flesh made the rest of her body feel chilled, and during her frantic-but-in-vain struggles to evade the paddle she had perspired freely deep in her cleft. With the cessation of the paddling and the subsequent loss of heat, the evaporation of this semi-concealed perspiration created an additional chilly feeling. Arrays of goosebumps appeared and disappeared on her body.

So it was with a sense of real fear that she felt the thump of someone reclining on the bed. Perhaps her punishment wasn't over yet. She blinked the tears from her streaming, reddened eyes and raised her head slightly.

She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Poised just feet away was a red-bushed vagina fully disclosed by uplifted and parted thighs. Lucille would have known it was Jo Tucker even if she couldn't see blue-black-orange-yellow stripes covering the disclosed lower part of the buttocks. Her own head was so low on the bed that Lucille couldn't see Jo's face, the upraised legs blocking out the upper body, but she could certainly see all of everything that only Jo's husband should have been permitted to see.

Lucille's neck ached in its strained, uplifted position, but she couldn't look away. She swallowed hard as a man's hand appeared from nowhere and began to fondle Jo's well-developed vaginal lips. Jo's thighs began to open and close as a blunt finger slipped inside her crack. Lucille closed her eyes. The indecency of it! But immediately she found herself opening them again.

The finger plunged deeply in and out of the redhead's sex-chute. Then the bed was jarred heavily, shaking the disgusting goings-on from Lucille's field of vision. When she could focus again, a swarthy, hairy male body was clambering between Jo Tucker's naked thighs, a thick, powerful-looking penis projecting at her unguarded sex. Lucille stared. It was monstrous!

The male still had his boots on, she noted. The swarthy hips surged forward, and the rocklike-seeming robust penis disappeared inside Jo's channel with apparent effortlessness. At once the lusty shaft began to submerge and emerge in metronomical plunges upon Jo's reddening receptacle while the male's hairy testicles swung freely beneath.

She had to stop looking at this grossness, Lucille told herself, but she found herself unable to turn her head away. The brawny sex-prong had churned up a milky foam around the lips of the entrance of the hideaway it was swooping into with fierce thrusts matched only by the well-timed upthrusts of Jo Tucker's plump bottom as she encouraged her attacker.

"Oh, God!" Lucille heard Jo Tucker's strangled cry. "Oh, Jesus, Wade, that's good! That's-oh, Wade! Wade! Ooooh! WADE! Oh, God, fuck me! Fuck-the ass off-me, Wade!"

Lucille tried to close her ears to the blasphemy and the profanity but she was no more able to do so than she was to close her eyes to the tremendous sexual effort being expended within inches of her nose. An unexpected twitch deep in her own interior startled her; it was the first bodily sensation she had experienced recently not connected with her still-smarting nude body-globes.

"WADE!" Jo half-shrieked. Her frantic assistance of her own degradation appalled Lucille. What was that male brute doing to her to cause her to react like that? "Ohhhhhh, I'm coming! Wade! Oooooh! I'm--COMMMMing!" Jo gasped.

Her frantic cooperation wrenched her upper body to one side, out of line of the male body plunging furiously upon her belly, and Lucille saw Jo's face for the first time. It was flushed, and the lips were working, and the eyes were rolled back in an expression of ecstasy that Lucille had never seen before. At the same time the man pounding her sluice-box roared like a lion and powerdived his hairy buttocks staccato-fashion as his ejaculation overtook him.

Lucille could see that Jo's hands clutched him tightly to her.

She marveled as all movement ceased and was succeeded by heavy breathing. She could still see Jo's face, which had been overtaken by a look of peace. Jo stirred finally beneath the masculine weight pinning her to the bed. "Do you think-she watched us?" she asked huskily but in a half-whisper.

"Who the hell cares?" Wade Sampson said loudly. "We could've charged admission to that one."

Sensing that he was about to move, Lucille buried her face in the bedcover. She would just die if they knew she'd been watching everything! And watching avidly. Now she had a belated feeling of apprehension again. Finished with each other, they would turn their attention to her once more.

Wade rolled off Jo with a satisfied grunt. He rose from the bed and slapped his hard belly with a satisfied grunt. "How are you going to keep her from talking about us, Wade?" Jo asked. "We shouldn't have done it."

"I'll stop her the same way I'll stop her from talkin' about the whalin' you gave her ass," Wade responded. "Slip on your dress an' run out to the cruiser in the back an' get the Polaroid on the back seat."

Lucille heard the bedsprings creak as Jo got off the bed and then the rustle of her dress being slipped over her head. In a moment the bedroom was quiet, and Lucille realized that she was alone in it with that dreadful man. And both of them were naked!

Her worst fears were realized when she heard him walking around the end of the bed behind her. "Well, sister," he said in the hard tone that passed for joviality with him, "you're bleachin' out pretty good. Your ass is just kind of ruby-colored now." He chuckled heavily. Lucille almost screamed when she felt his hands on her sore bottom. He spread her voluptuous globes with his thumbs and exposed her fissure and anus. "Plenty white flesh the paddle didn't reach," he assured her, probing at her rectum with his thumb. Lucille moaned in mortification and renewed pain at the rough handling.

He was still standing with his hands holding her buttocks apart when Jo re-entered the bedroom. "Did you ever see a twat with so much hair on it?" he demanded of her. "This broad could make herself a wig."

"Here's the camera," Lucille heard Jo's voice.

"Yeah, okay. Let's see now. I'll take it at an angle-" There was the sound of shuffling feet. "-like this, so I can get her ass and her face in the same picture. Put a pillow under her head to raise her face up a little from the bed." Lucille remained motionless, hardly daring to breathe. They were going to take a picture of her shame? She felt her head lifted and a pillow thrust under it. "Yeah," Wade Sampson said. "That's got it."

Even through closed eyelids Lucille saw a quick flare of light. "Give it a minute now," Jo's voice said. There was a long silence and then a sound like ripping paper. "Look at that!" Jo marveled. "You're quite a photographer, Wade."

"If you'd taken as many pictures as I have of automobile wrecks, you'd be quite a photographer, too. Notice how her ass looks even redder in the picture?"

"It certainly does. I was thinking while you were screwing me that we probably should have taken the picture first."

"Anything red comes out redder in Polaroid color. Don't ask me why. I better take a couple more for insurance."

Lucille cringed internally as the pair went through the same process twice more. "Do we let her go now?" Jo asked at last. "Now that she knows we can show the pictures around if she talks?"

There was no answer from Wade Sampson. Then Lucille gasped as she felt her smarting behind in his big, hard hands again. She squeaked in dismay when he crowded in behind her and she felt his bare stomach against her bottom. For a second she couldn't understand the pressure on her upper thighs that was moving upward. "Ohhhhhh!" she cried out when she realized that his erection was renewing itself and working its way between her legs.

Wade paid no attention to her outcry. "Damn, she's got an ass!" he said fervently. "You know what, Jo? I got to fuck this one. I just got to."

"Do you think it's a good idea?" Jo asked doubtfully. "She might holler rape."

"She ain't gonna holler nothin'. Not with the pictures we've got of her whipped ass to show to her husband an' his flock. Say, you can get a couple while I'm fuckin' her, too. Stand up on a chair an' get a good angle shot of her face while she's treadin' water on my beef."

There was a clinking sound, and Lucille felt the handcuff on the calf of her leg released. Wade slapped her sore bottom and she squealed like a schoolgirl. "Up an' at 'em, sis!" Wade told her. "Spread that fat ass on the bed."

Afraid not to move, Lucille stifled a groan as she straightened up gingerly. Sore muscles pulled in her scarified behind. Wade stepped close to her and unlocked the handcuff containing her wrists. She rubbed them fumblingly, then crossed her arms over her breasts when she sensed Wade staring at them.

"On the bed!" Wade said peremptorily. "Or would you rather try the paddle again?"

From the corner of her eye she could see his sinewy erection without looking directly at it, and her stomach fluttered queasily. "Please!" she appealed to Jo. "You've had your-your revenge. Won't you let me go now?"

"She hasn't got a goddam thing to say about it!" Wade said angrily.

"And wouldn't if she could," Jo interjected. She smiled wickedly at Lucille. "You know the saying 'Don't knock it if you haven't tried it'?"

She laughed outright at the expression on Lucille's face.

"B-but this is a-this is a terrible thing you're d-doing to me," Lucille stuttered. "You -" She broke off with a yelp as Wade slapped her nude rump hard.

"One more word out've you an' it's the paddle," Wade informed her.

"No, no, no," she said hastily. "I'll-I'll do it." She sat down on the bed, stifling a whimper as her weight on her body cushions increased her distress.

"On your back," Wade demanded.

Obediently Lucille dropped onto her back. The position was actually a relief since it took her weight off her behind. But her face turned scarlet when she saw Wade staring gloatingly at her thick black curls twined over her belly and vagina. "Get the goddam camera ready," he said, and climbed onto the bed.

Almost before Lucille realized it he was lowering his thick body upon hers and fumbling with his meaty penis between her parted legs. "She's wet already," he informed the watching Jo. "But I'll still betcha she squeaks when I shoot this to her."

Lucille closed her eyes. Could this actually be happening to her? Could this-this beast actually intend to use her so animalistically? Her mouth shaped itself into a little round O of apprehension as she felt the thick rod between her legs slip into her opening.

Wade lunged into her with a half-snarl.

With the first lunge he went into Lucille's hairy cunt so deeply that he found himself lodged to the hilt. "Sonofabitch!" he exclaimed in surprise. "She must be usin' a table leg on herself in her spare time." He began to fuck the minister's wife with long, slow strokes.

Lucille tried not to think of what was being done to her, but inevitably she found herself making comparisons. She felt that Paul's penis was longer if not quite as thick. Wade seemed to rest higher on her stomach than Paul, and his plunging rod penetrated her at a different angle. So much so, in fact, that a faint tremor seemed to be starting in her-

Her guilty reverie was rudely interrupted when Wade reached down and cruelly pinched a flaccid paddled buttock. Lucille squealed and thrust herself upward to get away from the twisting pinch. "That's-the way!" Wade barked in a hoarse rasp. "Move that thing, sister! What 'n 'ell d'you think you got it for?"

Afraid of another pinch, Lucille bucked herself upward again. She winced inwardly at the fleshy sound of his stomach on her own, but she dared not stop. She thrust her hips upward with a will, out of synchronization at first, but speedily timing her movement to Wade's. Instantly she realized she had never felt so deep a penetration. The hard gristle rhythmically immersed in her violated chasm stirred an immediate sensation she had never experienced before.

Lucille's breath caught sharply in her throat. The previous faint tremor lodged deeply within her broke into a glowing flame. "What's-happening?" she breathed faintly a second before her vagina suddenly took on an independent life of its own. "Ohhhh!" Lucille cried out as a series of throbs, pulsations, and flurried vibrations convulsed her inner flesh. Her legs climbed involuntarily and met over Wade's back. "What's-HAPPENING?"

"Shut--your mouth an'-move your-ass," Wade snarled.

He pounded her so hard that she heard herself grunting inelegantly, but nothing seemed to interfere with the quick fever spreading inside her. She felt herself standing tiptoe on the edge of an unknown abyss, and she tried to draw back. Instead, a hot tide of sensation enveloped her completely as she matched Wade's powerful surges.

And then somewhere a dam broke. "Ohh!" Lucille cried.

"Ohh! Ohhhhh, AhhhhhHHHHHH! AHHHH-HHhhhhhh!"

Her legs treshed wildly as an internal explosion convulsed her. Her breath stopped as she tried to raise herself higher to experience more of the sudden blissful palpitation assaulting her vagina. She squeezed her thighs and her vaginal walls desperately, trying to make the sensation last. Then the deep throbbing died out and left her feeling drained.

She sank back upon the bed, breathless, trying to understand what had happened. She sensed Wade reaching to pinch her out of her new quiescence, and she hurriedly resumed meeting his downthrusts. She caught a glimpse of Jo Tucker standing on a chair aiming downward with a camera, and felt almost indifferent. What had happened to her?

And then it started again! First the deep tingling feeling at which her breath caught in her throat; then the quick tremors and the glowing vibrations that expanded to fingertips and toes; and then the mind-bending soft explosion which convulsed her and left her temporarily mindless from the surfeit of sensation amidst which she felt she was drowning. Delightfully drowning.

In the midst of it she heard Wade snorting and heaving just as Paul did before he ejaculated. She found herself holding his furry shoulders as he emptied himself into her with fierce grunts. Her own feeling was that of a watch which had run down.

Wade blew half a dozen hard breaths before raising himself from her perspiring stomach. He looked around for Jo. "How'd you like me makin' her come twice?" he said proudly. "Get any pictures? They ought to be beauts."

"Two of them are," Jo replied. "In one your shoulders got in the way."

"Hey, that's a dandy!" he exclaimed after a look. He laughed loudly. "Give her a look."

Jo thrust the picture at Lucille, who was still on her back. She found herself looking at a clear likeness of herself-in color-taken at an angle which showed the rigorous penis halfway into her wet-moss furrow at the same time it showed the most extraordinary expression on her face: head thrown back, eyes closed, mouth open, the whole thing looking like nothing so much as though she were being tickled with a feather.

She tried to get indignant about the picture, but she seemed to have run out of indignation. Everything about the afternoon seemed stopped in space. Embedded in plastic. The worst thing in the world that could happen to a woman had happened to her, and-dare she say it? Even think it?-it hadn't been so bad after all.

Wade somehow sensed her mood. "You're not a bad fuck at all, once you get it in gear," he told Lucille.

She felt no shock as she would have an hour previously. She was still trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. How could this brutish, ignorant, uncouth man have aroused in her sensations never before experienced? Of course he had done it to Jo Tucker, too.

Wade was still standing beside the bed. Lucille's eyes went to the sticky-looking shiny knob of his penis protruding from the foreskin, and then she quickly looked away. She was becoming absolutely shameless! There was no other word for it. She had drawn her thighs together after recovering from the unexpected heights of sensation during Wade's brutalizing of her, but aside from that minimal cover-up she was still needle-naked on the bed long after he dismounted from her, and right out in broad daylight, too. All of these things had simply never happened to her before. She knew she should be furiously angry, justifiably angry, but she wasn't. She couldn't even begin to analyze how she felt.

"You better be on the Pill, sis, because I don't shoot blanks," Wade announced. When Lucille made no reply, he looked at his watch. "Okay, party's over. I got to give the taxpayers a little somethin' for their money." He slapped Lucille lightly upon a plump thigh. "If you do any talkin', girlie, we show the pictures to your husband. It's that simple. Understand?" Lucille nodded. "Okay, rack it up an' drag it out've here."

Lucille got up from the bed on legs that trembled. She knew it wasn't from the paddling. Almost like a sleepwalker she picked up her panties from the floor after cleansing herself with a tissue taken from her handbag. It was only afterward that the intimacy of the ritual performed in plain sight of two strangers dismayed her. She must be losing her mind.

Then she found she couldn't get the panties on. Her paddled bottom was definitely swollen, and the constricting panties were far too uncomfortable. She didn't even attempt her girdle. She donned slip, blouse, skirt, and jacket, then fluffed out her disordered hair. She rolled up panties and girdle and put them under her arm, then looked around the bedroom, her eyes lingering longest on the bed, before confronting Wade's light blue eyes examining her curiously. Jo was standing to one side. "Is-is that all?" Lucille asked uncertainly.

Wade nodded. "Roll it," he said.

Lucille walked from the bedroom through two other downstairs rooms to the foyer, where she let herself out the front door.

Wade Sampson and Joe Tucker watched her go. "How come she took a strange prick like a kitten?" Wade demanded. "You had me think-in' she was a lioness. You reckon the paddle softened her brain along with her tail?"

"I don't understand it," Jo declared. "Could she be scheming something?"

"Damned if I know." Wade strode to a window through which he could watch Lucille Bryson getting into her car. He chuckled when he saw her edge herself cautiously under the wheel. "Man, you really teed off on her with that paddle. Although I still say my little quirt stirs up more action."

"Yes, dear," Jo said with mild irony. "I know."

He was frowning to himself. "If she's plannin' somethin'-naah, what could she do?" He thought for a moment. "We could copper the bet a little, though." He looked at Jo. "Whyn't you pay a call on the Reverend Bryson? You know, the lost sheep askin' for guidance? Lean on his shoulder an' give him a look at your tits. If he made a pass at you we'd have all the protection we'd ever need."

"Dr. Paul Bryson make a pass at me? Are you out of your mind, Wade? That man wouldn't make a pass at Cleopatra, the original or Elizabeth Taylor."

"He's a man, isn't he? You do as I say. It would be cheap insurance until I can figure out why that wife of his was such a meek little fuck. C'mon, let's go."

He locked the house up carefully when they left by the front door.

Lucille Bryson lay in her conjugal bed and listened to the snoring of her husband, Paul. Sleep had evaded her for over an hour after their retirement for the night. She had returned home in a subdued mood. She had forgotten her reddened eyes, and while Paul commented upon them, hastily fabricated a story about a sudden head cold.

She wondered what he would say if he saw the condition of her bottom. Hours after the paddling it still hadn't returned to its pristine whiteness, and the usually velvety skin was still roughened. She had examined it carefully in the bathroom mirror. Soreness still persisted, although not to the touch now; she experienced a quick thrill of pain only when she sat incautiously or put other undue stress upon that portion of her anatomy. She was sure that a couple of days would reduce the present aftermath to only a memory.

But what a memory! She drew a long breath. Had it really happened? Had she actually let that boorish Wade Sampson use her so whorishly? She should have fought and kicked and screamed and bit. That was what any decent woman did when faced with rape. Well, semi-rape. Why hadn't she, Lucille Bryson, reacted similarly?

It was no good telling herself that the smarting burn in her paddled bottom had robbed her of her judgment. She still knew right and wrong. She had experienced fear, yes; but when had fear ever excused the proper choice? No, she had succumbed like a-well a whore.

And how explain the marvelously stimulating thing that had happened to her during the ugly act? She had heard the expression "Riding the crest of a sexual wave." Actually, it was in her marriage manual. She had never believed it, but this afternoon she had experienced it. Why did it have to happen in such sordid, demanding circumstances, so crushing to ladylike behavior?

Lucille Bryson sighed tiredly, turned over carefully in bed, and sought once more for elusive sleep.

Tommy Johnson knuckled the sleep from his eyes as a persistent series of knocks at his door penetrated his subconscious. He bounded from his bed in his underwear and went to the door. "Hi sweetie," Jo Tucker greeted him when he opened it. "How about letting me in before one of the neighbors sees me and begins talking?"

"Hi, Jo," he said automatically, standing aside to let her enter. "Something else has happened?"

"Nothing else has happened except that I promised to stop by and give you a little treatment, remember?" she asked archly.

He felt foolish standing in front of her tousle-haired and crummy-mouthed while she looked cool and crisp and fresh as a daisy. "You look wonderful," he said, eyeing her colorful linen dress.

"I'm a working gal now," she said lightly. "I'm on my way to work now, and I just thought I'd stop in and see if I couldn't repay my friend Tommy for the favor he did me the other night."

"Listen, Jo," he said uncomfortably. "You don't owe me anything. You were damn nice to me then, if you'll remember. You were-"

He stopped when she came over to him and kissed him on the cheek. "I know where the favor lies," she said firmly, then smiled at him. "You mean you're refusing my expert services?"

"No, no," he said quickly. "I mean-hey, let me run down the hall to the bathroom! I'll be right back."

He took his morning piss, brushed his teeth, and slicked down his unruly hair before returning to the room. Jo had removed her dress and placed it on the bed. She came to him in her slip and with perfect naturalness slipped down his jockey shorts until they collapsed around his ankles. She placed his balls on her palm and jiggled them lightly while he drew in his breath. "Men's pricks are so darling when they're all the way down," Jo observed. "Like little boys'."

"That one's not going to stay down long with you playing around like that," Tommy said tensely.

"That's the idea, sweetie," Jo said calmly. "Why don't you sit down in the armchair?"

He allowed her to lead him to the chair and seat him in it to her satisfaction. She dropped to her knees in front of him after raising her slip to keep from kneeling on it, parted his knees, and advanced her face until her warm breath was tickling his thighs.

Tommy placed his hands on the warm bare flesh of Jo's shoulders. "How's your ass?" he asked with attempted nonchalance, as though this was something that happened to him every day.

"Improving," Jo replied.

"Gettin' along with Wade?"

"We have an understanding," she said ambiguously before lowering her chestnut head and tonguing the golden hairs on Tommy's upper thighs. The touch of her tongue on his flesh produced an almost instantaneous reaction. "Mmmmmm, lovely!" Jo said as the circumcised prick shot upward with the purple-red head trembling and the blue-veined underside throbbing. "Lovely!"

She kissed the rubbery tip lightly, swirled her tongue over the slit in the head while the muscles in Tommy's thighs quivered, then took all of the head in her warm mouth. She rolled it from side to side while flirting her tongue underneath along the beginning of the cord, and Tommy's knees came up under Jo's breasts as she crouched over his lap.

Gradually she drew more of the vigorous young cock into her mouth, alternating licking and sucking. The soles of Tommy's bare feet began to tingle. "Oh, Jesus!" he groaned. Afraid his hard-clutching hands would hurt Jo's bare shoulders, he removed them and gripped the chair-arms.

Jo's mouth ovaled still more while she began drawing upon the rigid muscle as though it were a pipestem. Her tongue deposited saliva until she could slide easily from midpoint on his erection to the bulbous head which she lipped, sucked, and teased with a swirling tongue until Tommy threw his head back and stared up at the ceiling. "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus!" he said fervently. "I'm warnin' you, Jo, I'm gonna boil over!"

She removed her mouth momentarily. "Give me your undershirt," she told him.

He pulled it off over his head and handed it to her. Jo draped it over her front like a bib, tucking it into the front of her slip and letting the rest of it overhang. "Now!" she said, smiling brightly upward at Tommy. "Shoot your head off."

She swallowed his penis again and began serious suction. His toes curled up as her soft mouth, fiendishly knowledgeable about male tactile hotpoints, stimulated him right out of his mind. "Jo!" he gasped as her lips slid back and forth on almost the full length of his steely cock, pausing only to nip gently at the throbbing prick-head. "Jo, I'm-coming! Jo!"

She made a flirting motion with her head, throwing his cock from side to side, still inside her sucking mouth. He had been holding off desperately, but that did it. He came halfway up out of his chair as his orgasm started, his hands reaching blindly for Jo's chestnut head and holding it firmly to his jetting tube.

Not that holding was necessary. At the first preliminary throb of the prick in her mouth Jo swallowed eagerly and kept swallowing during the deluge that followed. Some of the surplus escaped the corners of her mouth and ran down her chin onto the protective, biblike undershirt. Once she choked momentarily but immediately caught up again.

Tommy sank down in the armchair again as the ejaculation which seemed to go on forever gradually slackened. "Hoooooooooo, boy!" he whispered through dry lips. Jo released her limp prisoner and looked up at him, greasy-mouthed but smiling. She removed the bib and used a dry corner of it to wipe off her mouth. She glanced down at her front, but none of the jetting male sperm had penetrated to her slip.

Tommy patted her head gently. "Thanks, Jo," he said sincerely. "That was something else."

"I thought you'd like it," she said softly.

"Jo?"

"Yes?"

"Bring it up again and let me fuck you?" His voice turned eager. "Please?"

"I'm having my period, Tommy," she said simply. "I'm sorry."

"Ahhhhhh, damn!"

"Otherwise I'd love to have you fuck me."

He patted her head again. "Thanks anyway, Jo. You've made my day."

She rose from her knees and went to the bed, picked up her dress, and slipped it over her head. "Zip me up," she said, turning her back.

He rose from the armchair, naked, and did her bidding. He folded her in his arms for a moment, cupping her breasts in his palms, before releasing her. "Look at that," he said ruefully, pointing downward to a half-established re-erection. "It didn't hear you."

Jo smiled, reached for his cock and gave it a quick squeeze, then walked to the door. "Thanks," Tommy said again, following her. "It was great. You were great."

She gave him another quick, bright smile before opening the door and descending the stairs to the back of the bakery.