Chapter 8
Arnold Montfrey Jones, the father of Bert, the husband of Mona, and uncle of Anita, was one of the truly clever men of the 20th century.
It would be hard to define his cleverness except to say that he seemed to have started life at the bottom of the human pile, and that he shot to the top with all the ease of the man on the flying trapeze. He acquired not only a hefty personal fortune, but also a social position that made him warmly welcomed everywhere by royalty and potentates of wealth.
Rumor had it that his father had come out of a mid-European ghetto to the teeming sidewalks of New York, where he did more philosophizing than working. His son from the beginning showed a wizardry that sometimes erupts in out-of-the-way places.
His mother had gotten swept away by the flu, and the father was stupefied to discover that he had nurtured a noble prodigy of ten. From the start the boy exhibited astonishing talent, and by the time he was ready to graduate from public school, he appeared to be on his way to becoming a math wiz, a gifted musician, a literary scribe, and a super athlete. His teachers, aware of these formidable qualities, called on the principal to be sure the young boy did not waste his intellect on the desert air. The principal wrote to a friend on the faculty of a great Eastern prep, and they invited the boy for an interview. The school authorities then were so dazzled by the boy's mental gifts, they instantly offered him a four-year scholarship. Arnold, without half trying, for his memory was encyclopedic, made a four-year average of A plus, and finished at the head of each class, from freshman to senior.
He played quarterback for the football team, catcher for the baseball team, edited the school literary magazine, and wrote articles for the nationally prestigious Science Monthly.
He was easily a mental and physical phenomenon.
He entered Harvard with his name legally changed to Arnold Montfrey Jones, and swiftly repeated the dazzling achievements he had garnered at Groton.
The one conspicuous feature about Arnold was his amiable personality. He had an intuitive feeling about people and handled the most varied types with consummate skill.
After all, he had been circulating for some time among the sons of the country's aristocrats of wealth and social position, and found himself a focal center of the most intellectual societies. His subjects were physics, literature, math, and most especially philosophy, for which he had acquired a sharp thirst.
One might think that a young man, gifted with such qualities, might neglect the world of girls. Instead, his appetite for them proved quite formidable, and there were many who tried to flip him into matrimony.
At Harvard, one of his cronies was Thomas Pierpoint Woodbridge, Jr., son of the multi-million-dollar president of the Hawks Holding company, maker of the super-plane FX2, a phenomenal new fighter.
Thomas Jr. was an astute observer of men, who felt it would be clever to snare Arnold for the company. His old man was impressed, and authorized a lifetime deal that would eventually bring Arnold into the key executive group.
With the passing years, Arnold got assigned to the prize markets where super tact was called for, as well as total grasp of the company business, the ability to evaluate a client, and above all, the talent to offer a bribe that would, without offense, always bag the deal, usually on a multi-million-dollar level.
In the interim, Arnold married Roberta Anderson, daughter of the famed Southern governor, and they produced Bert, who, compared to his gifted father, was appallingly average; at eighteen, he seemed to be a jock, a sex athlete, and incurably lazy.
It didn't matter to Arnold, who felt that each of us designs his own destiny.
He met Mona in Athens, to which he had come to sell planes, and even more important, to stare at the Acropolis, which epitomized to him Greek beauty and thought.
Mona, at the time, had been on the crest of her fame and beauty, and when her marriage collapsed because of the death of the French magnate, she felt peculiarly vulnerable.
Arnold knew that beyond her impeccable social connections, Mona didn't have a pot to pee in. So, when she put her hot hand on his pocket and his pecker, in that order, he smiled and thought it might be a fun thing, even if it did not go a long way. She was a sizzling sexpot, and he liked such women. He figured that she might make a couple of discreet sex trips on the side, but that she would be guided by good sense.
He loved her great body and her talent at cock-sucking, and he liked her taste for gentle bondage.
Actually, they enjoyed playing far-out passion games in the bedroom, and his imagination liked to run the spectrum of light bondage. Each took a turn at playing master and slave, finding it kinky.
So, on this night he flew in from Israel, where he had discussed the hardware needs there, since he didn't like to see the tiny country smothered by an all-out attack from its enemies. He discussed the value of the atomic weapon as a deterrent, just in case there was a gang-up of enemies in a position to annihilate the small country.
Arnold flew back to his place at Southampton to be alone with Mona. She had given the kids tickets for a hot new porno picture in New York to be sure that she and Arnold could be alone that particular night.
She really craved his big cock.
Even though, on occasion, she did condescend to eat Bert, there could be no comparison between the boy's cock and that of the father. Arnold was marvelously hung, with a splendid tool, the balls and cock of a stallion in heat.
They had a great dinner first, with lots of champagne, and he told her some of his adventures overseas.
Arnold believed in pacing his pleasures, and he didn't go in for copious copulation with Mona. He didn't want his bedroom experiences with her to become boring.
They undressed and bathed and soaped up everywhere, then went into the bedroom, where he bound her hands together and her feet, too.
She sat on the chair, her tits flowing out, looking perfect. He got out a whip, a feather whip that would not leave a welt, and waved it.
"You're a promiscuous slut," he said. "It will be easier for you if you confess your crimes rather than have me extract them from you. I rather like beating a slave, so it would be nice if you didn't confess."
This was the game.
She stared right in his eyes, "No, I don't think I'll tell you anything."
"Nothing?" A grim, sadistic smile twisted his lips. And his hand went up and slashed down, bringing the whip across her breasts.
It was actually a symbolic slash, for the whip, being mostly feathers, obviously had anything but a ferocious impact.
But she acted as if she had been really slashed.
"Oh," she groaned. Then, as he watched her, she again looked straight into his eyes. "Well, I admit that I have sucked a couple of cocks. Even a cunt. But you've been away too long. And I'm not a plaster saint."
He strutted round her, his cock upstanding, red and angry, slapping the whip in his palm.
"You pretty little monster. You seem unable to control your debased appetites. I find it urgent to discipline you. I'm going to whip your pretty ass.
And he brought the whip down sharply v and severely down over her marvelously shaped white ass.
She let out a few shrieks.
Then he said, "And now, just to teach you your place, kindly put your tongue up my ass, and give me a good licking."
He stepped in front of her, turned his tail to her. With an eagerness that had no threat of force behind it, she inserted her tongue in his anus and proceeded with a passionate licking.
He could, by bending over, get his finger into her hot pussy and stroke it, which so excited her, that her tongue did some devastating turns up his ass.
After a bit of this backward fun, he pulled away and started again to strut back and forth, again pounding the whip threateningly in his palm.
"You have been unfaithful, and for that I should pound your ass till it's bloody red. But you've done dirtier deeds than that! You've been evil, done the ultimate evil."
She stared at him. "What do you mean?"
He slashed at her wickedly with the whip. "I like this pretense of innocence. You know exactly what I mean. You've fucked your own son, and your own daughter!"
She cowered in fake terror. "But Bert is only my stepson, and Anita is not my daughter!"
He sneered at her, "Just quibbling, quibbles."
He raised the whip threateningly, and shoved his big, angry cock at her mouth. "Kiss and lick my balls immediately!"
She bent down slavishly and began a fiercely erotic tonguing of his cock and balls, as if out of both fear and desire.
He watched her lustfully for a while, then withdrew his cock from her mouth.
She grieved at her loss of the huge, living lollipop.
"How did you know about them?" she asked curiously, for she was mystified that he picked that up so fast. He had, after all, not even seen the kids since his return.
He smiled maliciously, "My poor darling. You mustn't imagine that you can deceive me."
He brought a tape machine into the room, a small electronic marvel that began to project images on the wall with a flick of a button. The images were in vivid color and showed a playback of her passionate encounters with Bert and Anita.
Her eyes popped at the sight of herself on the wall, the sensual beauty of her body exaggerated in size.
Arnold, she realized, had concealed some electronic eye device, that, sensitized to movement, picked up their sex encounter?
Together and silently Arnold and Mona studied the fiercely erotic scenes as they were played back, the jostlings of the beautiful bodies, the movements of mouth and tongue as they sought to maximize their pleasures.
Arnold smiled. "Someday, Mona, she may be as beautiful as you."
For the moment he had dropped his sadistic mask.
"I suppose," she said, "that means you will be after a bit of incest." Her voice was sarcastic.
He stared at her thoughtfully. "I don't know. But let's admit that these taboos are obsolete and stupid."
Then, as if aware he had slipped out of the master role, his face hardened.
He swirled his whip. "Meanwhile, you little slut, I'll thank you to give me a ferocious blowjob or I may exchange this feather whip for hard, black leather."
"You wouldn't date." Her eyes blazed at him.
He laughed, amused at her response. He actually had small interest in physical punishment, the flesh-beating which seemed to be at the core of sadism, but he did find something delicately comic in the game of master-slave.
This, it seemed to him, touched some deep psychic cores in the human creature, as if there were some yearning to be either dominant or dominated.
Arnold had always been amused at the pecking order that he found in the barnyard and in corporate structures. There were lines of force set up in the world of hens and of people.
He thought that the push of power found its fiercest expression in bed, when two human creatures, very complex, jostled each other's psyche to find out who would play master to the slave.
The master, of course, always pictured himself as using the slave for his personal pleasure, but Arnold understood that the slave, in a perverse way, got kicks from the enslavement.
Males, Arnold thought, like the domination game mostly, for it pandered to their egos, their little conceits. They liked pussy-whipping!
Still, Arnold considered Nature had a joke in the game, for her goal was to impregnate the female, even the cockroach, so the species could survive.
These ideas went through Arnold's head even as he picked up the whip and slashed it threateningly through the air.
Man, he was thinking, has triumphed over nature because he has turned sex into a game of fun, instead of blindly submitting to the boring cosmic force of begetting and begetting.
Arnold enjoying thinking, for he was aware that thinking was the most human of human activities, unique to man on the planet earth, and he thought often to increase his amusements in life, which led him now to the use of the electronic visual.
So now both he and Mona watched the playback of the bedroom pleasures that the trio had enjoyed during Arnold's absence.
Arnold noted with sharp enjoyment the sophisticated style of Anita's cocksucking. It really turned him on, and he made a decision to sample her talents, as well as that enchanting cunt that showed mostly in the pictures as a gleaming slit.
But just now, his focus was fastened on Mona, who looked luscious tied up, and obviously at his mercy. He felt a ferocious triumph in that he could order her to do anything, and that she would have to submit.
She was celebrity, and that face of hers would be recognized anywhere, yet he had her in his power, and right now could pee on that famous face, if he wanted!
It was a nice idea, and it stiffened his cock even more.
He stood in front of her with his, tumescent tool pointing at her, as if she was the target for his arrow.
"Okay, bitch, start sucking, and don't stop until you really get every drop of cum out of my balls!"
And Mona, aware that he had her in his power, and that she rather liked being commanded to do things, abased even, by her lord and master, stooped down, took his giant cock in her mouth, and used her tongue in a most violent way, working under the meat of the head, down along the long monstrous shaft, all pumped with blood to his balls, which she got into her mouth and licked frantically, too.
I love it when he commands me, she thought, frantic with desire. She loved to feel his meat in her mouth, to take so much of it that her felt stuffed.
She tried, in her braver moments, to that famed actress of porn who made a spectacular feat of totally swallowing her partner's giant tool.
It was a delicious sight for Arnold, seeing his huge cock seemingly disappear down the length of her throat. She must have, he thought, the throat of a goose.
He loved the sensuality of it, of course, but there was another dimension to his pleasure that went back to his earliest sex memories.
For he had an obsessional thing about famous women giving his cock oral pleasure.
There had been a time, when he was about seven, when he got pushed about badly by older boys and girls who collected in the backyards to trot out their sex parts for study.
He was, at the time, two years younger than the other boys, so when they urged him to show his pecker, the petite size of it sent them into cruel gales of laughter. The presence of the girls did a bit of enlarging for the boys, so they felt superior and mocked Arnold mercilessly.
Little Arnold assumed that he was a sexual dwarf, that he had a stunted pecker, and could only be an object of fun to women.
When, during the games, the boys and girls tried to imitate their parents and put little peckers onto little cunts, nothing would happen but hysterical laughter.
The girls, noticing Arnold's puny pecker, treated him disdainfully, aware that this insignificant weenie could never be enough for them.
It all had had a horrendous impact on little Arnold, who did not know that two years earlier these boys, had also had tiny weenies. The little monsters, eager to feel big, would not reassure Arnold that very shortly he would be just as big as they!
It was at that moment, in a mood of childish fury, that Arnold swore to become rich and powerful in spite of his tiny pecker, and afterward, to have the world's most beautiful women lick his puny little pecker. To show them later how he despised them, he would pee over them, too!
In that way he would revenge himself.
When Arnold's body and brain developed a bit later, he swiftly outdistanced the idiots who had mocked him. But they say the earliest psychological scars are the most lasting. And so he developed his lust to have very beautiful women give blowjobs wherever he found them.
The sight of a beautiful face, a famous face, an actress or a socialite doing the indelicate job of licking his cock, somehow wiped out remnants of the humiliation of his childhood.
So, whenever he traveled in the great world, by dint of magnetic charm, great contacts, or the power of money, he would find some beautiful woman to give oral worship to his cock.
It did much indeed to soothe the old wound.
He was just now soothing the wound as he I looked at beautiful Mona, that famous face that peered over and over from magazines, who was just now giving his cock a great blowjob.
Now he had this famous bitch in bondage, her arms tied to her legs, and she in a crouch so her cunt was spread apart for him to look at or penetrate, whatever his whim.
He loved looking at her full lips firmly creased around his cock, the blood pumping strongly through the veins. He liked to see her pink tongue passionately fluttering under the head of his dick, to see her licking his balls.
Then he felt the gism in him build up for a gigantic spurt, so he grabbed her head, held it steady to fuck her mouth. His cock swelled mightily, then, as he spurted, he pulled it from her mouth to shoot his cream over her face, her lips, her cheeks, her breasts.
He then unloosened her bonds, and she smeared the spunk over her skin, for she had heard it held proteins to keep the skin and flesh young.
Then Mona fell to her knees, kissing his balls, licking his cock clean, in a state of anguished joy because the psychological kicks of bondage had triggered for her a tremendously intense orgasm.
This was often their private game, a play in which abasement brought her ecstasy.
Once she had read the famous Story of O and felt a curious kinship with the woman who could find some pleasure in pain. Though naturally Mona would never go to the degraded depths of pain that the woman "O" choose for herself, she did think that light bondage had its fascination. And she took from it a delicate and delicious pleasure.
Now Arnold picked her up, dumped her on the bed, spread her thighs, and began to eat her. She had sweet-tasting meat to her cunt, he thought, and he believed it to be beautifully shaped.
In Arnold's vast experience, he did find a difference in the shape of cunts, that some were homely and some exquisite.
He dug his tongue into her delicious pussy, probing to her clit, hitting it over and over. He caressed her enchanting buttocks while licking her. It gave him delight to touch Mona, for she kept her body in super shape with tennis and swimming. She had been gifted with a great body, and sports kept it firm and flawless. He got his finger in her crotch, jiggled it cleverly then slipped to her charming tail, easing his finger in to work the nerves.
He toyed with her body, titillating it until he could feel the swell again in his cock, and then he had her give it a swift licking just before he it into her hot cunt.
He always felt great when finally he slid all way into her cunt and had his arms around her body, which seemed to be a perfect fit to his own.
It made him think with a smile of the old Greek legend. The human creature, according to that legend, was once four-legged, with two heads each facing out, and a round body. To punish this creature for arrogance, the God cut him down the middle, making two separate creatures. Since then, the two halves searched frantically for each other, male and female, to get the feel of wholeness when finally they coupled in sex!
That, in a way, was the feeling that swept over Arnold at special times when he fucked Mona. She gave him this delicious sense of being complete.
And now, riding her cunt, holding her ass fiercely close, to pump his pecker into her as deep as he could, he got this delightful feeling, and it made him feel he had done quite nicely to nail down Mona, and bring her home to Southampton.
As for Mona, she rode his cock with squeezed muscles, aware of the delicious pleasure of being fucked by a man whose body and brain she could admire. Although Mona was a sensuous woman she also hated to be bored by men, and Arnold always had the capacity to keep her entertained. His fucking was never boring, and even now he had turned on the tape machine, which sent visual images up against the wall, so that they could see the sucking and fucking of Anita and Bert with Mona. It gave them an extra dimension of delight in their fucking. It was, in some sense, a fantasy orgy, as if the others were present during their own dynamite fucking.
Mona felt her sensations crest, and grabbed Arnold fiercely around his ass, forcing him to drive in harder, and aware that she was going off, he put on an explosive performance, so that the cream spurted from his cock into her vibrating cunt.
She groaned with the bliss of it, feeling the pleasures go through her body in a flow of waves. She couldn't help thinking that, somehow, Arnold could give her orgasms that were intolerably exciting.
They lay together for a time, enjoying the contact of body, feeling the slow ebb of sensation. Then after that they bathed, and dined regally. The cook and butler, though given the night off, had prepared beef stroganoff.
And while they dined, they talked.
"I do wish you wouldn't spend so much time away from home. I realize how much I miss you when you are back."
He sighed. "Perhaps you appreciate me more just because I'm here so infrequently."
"No. I just can't get enough of a good thing, Arnold."
He smiled. "In my experience, we can get of a good thing, if we eat it too often."
She studied him. "I suppose you are rarely bored over there. Where did I hear that one of the Arab sheiks asked you to enjoy his harem?"
"Yes, where did you hear it?" He raised an eyebrow. It was curious how she seemed to have a pipeline to some of his more colorful jaunts over? seas.
He thought with amusement of the harem. To be surrounded by ten naked women oiled and plump, and exquisitely oriental, whose entire lives were concentrated on increasing the pleasure of the sex coupling!.
Their tongues were snakes, and they developed muscles that were inconceivable, if you thought about it. He thought of the exquisite liquid eyes, the abundant bosoms, the delicate way they could use their tongues to accentuate and intensify the orgasms.
"The harem is a marvelous idea," he said. "It's a world of sex carried to its ultimate development. I think the East is enormously more developed than we are in the appreciation of the impulse to pleasure. The harem is the ultimate sex concept."
She raised an eyebrow. "Well, darling, as long as women had their personal collection of studs, I would agree."
He grinned. "Personally, I think it would be quite fair. On the physiological side, men wear out faster, and therefore, it would seem that women need one stud to replace the stud who has shot his load. However, since men have mastered the world, wherever you go on earth you will find that it is the stud who collects the females. Biology is destiny, darling. The phrase seems to be quite accurate."
"Biology is destiny," she repeated. "Well, it is in some cases. Some of us make our own destiny, though."
He grinned. "Mona, you're a special case. You have been able to shape your own fate. But only extremely beautiful or very talented women can do that. Most women are victims of fate, and of their sex, in my opinion."
She poured some brandy for them. "I suspect that in many cases, women are victims of fate, and men are victims of women."
He laughed. "It would seem that way. If you think of it. Men come to women full of fight and fury, and leave them with their tails practically between their legs. That's the victory that women win. Always."
He stared now at Mona opposite him, a super specimen of the western woman.
"Woman, he said, "is the total sexual creature. When she violates her destiny, when she tries to imitate the man, when she tries to get power, like men in the big world, something happens to spoil her nature. She then becomes neurotic. She goes to doctors, she can't get orgasms. She twists her head trying to be everything but what she can be. The result? Women lose the divine content and become the neurotic sex."
Mona took a cigarette, stared at him, then smiled. "That Arnold, is a very old chestnut. A stale idea since Adam. Let me explain. The most precious thing for the male is his ego. If you threaten his ego, you literally ruin him. Now, when woman get into the business world and compete very often successfully against man, she hits at his ego. He can no longer believe that he's better, that he's superior to women. He's no longer the boss. Suddenly, his power disappears. His ego is cracked. He can't tolerate that; if he has nobody to boss around, he's in a state of total misery.
"Therefore, he uses every weapon to get women back-in the kitchen, in the bedroom. He mocks her efforts at liberation. He writes dissertations on the historical and natural inferiority of women. He fights every advance they want to make to broaden their enjoyment of life. That's why you, Arnold, are selling me now the divine content of the harem female whose entire life mission, according to you, is to suck the male cock with exquisite artistry, then crawl into the wall, until the male cock is again ready.
"My poor Arnold. The day is past when you can victimize women. You can't put back the clock."
He lifted his glass of champagne in a toast. "Well I tried, darling."
"I expected you to, darling."
"Of course; Mona, I give you total freedom. But because I happen to be a civilized man. But I can't help notice that you have the instincts of the harem favorite. Admit that."
She laughed. "Not entirely, my sweet Arnold. My instinct to give you pleasure, obviously, has as its final purpose my own pleasure. In this way, we both get what we want. We are both happy. It's the best of possible worlds."
Arnold, of course, understood all, but was amusing himself at an evening meal.
Finally, he said, "I must confess that if you were only a sexual creature you would be a deadly bore. It's what happens between the fucks that really makes a relationship work." He grinned. "And darling, there is nothing dull about you."
"Or you, my darling.
She came to him, and planted a gentle kiss on his lips.