Chapter 10
That was the end of the orgy. We all slept well that night and worked hard in the orchard the next day. And the days after that. Pietro relaxed the rules and there was sex once again in the Great-house.
But sex in our commune--in the Jilkes Group--would never be the same again. We would never return to the shy, halting, secret affairs of prior times. There was no secrets any more. There were no favorites, except that I felt a strong and growing yearning for Marella. Every guy in the Great-house felt the same way--and so did the girls.
Pietro and Marella stayed away from the Great-house for the next two weeks. I figured Pietro was keeping her to himself in the small cottage. I envisioned him beating her every night after tying her to the wall or the table, then fucking her brutally until her body virtually exploded in a massive and continuing orgasm. I wanted to be in his place very much.
Our sex was not listless, but it was not violent the way it was during the infrequent orgies. We reserved our strength for the next big orgy, and for work in the fields. Plowing time had come and we got out the old horses and the plows and started in about the end of March. There was also winter hay to be made and half our crew was involved in this activity.
The days were brilliant with warm spring sunshine. The hills were green already, as they always are in this part of the country in every spring, and the streams and springs were running quick and clear. The water was delicious, unpolluted, as. was the en-tire valley. It was our intention to keep it that way--peaceful and clean. It seemed strange as life began to burst once more from the earth that we had ever considered taking life. But we had. We had deliberately and coldly plotted the murder of Pietro, the big Sicilian motorcycle rider, and we all felt remorse when we thought of it.
Thank god, though, we had not carried it out. We could have killed limn and buried him someplace in the valley where he would never be found. Then, we would have had Marella all to ourselves and wouldn't have had to put up with Pietro's arbitrary limitations on our activities.
But everything was smooth now and we were a content commune again. Even more content that we had been in the beginning.
We were careful at night not to make too much noise and get carried away with our sexual endeavors. We didn't want to take a chance on arousing Pietro again and having him barge in on us. We were convinced that he no longer cared if we indulged in a little sex at night, but we didn't want to take any chances on anything. He was a strange man, full of deep and foreboding thoughts. He was unpredictable as he was strong, as mysterious as he was gruff. We were very careful.
Our sex during those two weeks was probably about as frequent and about as violent as it is with the average married couple, but it was far from dull or common or dutiful. It was exciting and satisfying, although we missed the dildos and the whips.
It was good because we were young and healthy and suited to much sexual activity. It was good be-cause we swapped off from time to time--I slept with six different girls during that two weeks, to give some example of the variety of our sexual life.
It was good because we used it sparingly and interspersed our work-and-sex activities with good sound discussions on philosophy, world problems, pollution, war, peace and politics. We never discussed religion. There is really nothing much to discuss.
The days grew balmy and warm breezes flowed up the valley, night and day. We opened the windows of the Greathouse and let the fresh air eradicate all signs of winter with its stultifying atmosphere, its musk, its staleness. It was not uncommon, on moonlit nights, to see bare buttocks glistening on the cots, either sleeping peacefully or rising and falling rapidly in the heat of passion.
It was about the first of April when Pietro made an unexpected appearance in the Great-house. He had been working with us each day, although Marella stayed in the small cottage all the time, but he went to the small cottage at night for his meals and stayed there with Marella until work time the next day. They were quite mysterious in their activities and we never heard a sound from the cottage at night. And Marella seemed quite pale. I remember coming up to the house to sharpen my axe one day in late March and seeing her at the window of the cottage. She looked sad, and pale. She smiled a Mona Lisa smile at me and disappeared from the window. Strange, indeed.
And now Pietro was in the Great-house. The dishes from dinner were washed and put away and we had started a poker game at the big table. Pietro opened the door slowly, almost timidly, and came quietly across the floor to the table. We all looked up.
"Marella wants a good time," he said with a funny catch in his voice. "There is a good moon tonight: We have it in the orchard. Okay?"
We nodded. Hell yes, it was okay. We would have it on the moon itself, if it involved Marella. Pietro nodded and tried to smile, and went out again. He came back and opened the door.
"In ten minutes," he said. "In the orchard. Don't wear no clothes."
It took us just thirty seconds to get naked, so we had nine and a half minutes to sit around in our skin and ponder Pietro's strange appearance and timid demeanor.
We couldn't figure it, so we didn't try.
The moon was indeed good. It was full and silvery and bright. It cast long shadows across the fields and forests of the big valley, and it illuminated our skin as we walked down the big slope toward the orchard. I walked with Sofia, who was still my favorite, next to Marella, and I glanced sideways at her breasts as they bobbed and glistened in the moonlight. Ahead were the others and I watched the gleaming buttocks of the girls and boys, strangely drawing pleasure from both sights. My god, I thought, am I becoming bisexual?
Anything was possible.
"Wonder what the big man has planned for tonight?" I, said casually, as we threaded our way down the path.
"Anything he does will be fine with me," Sofia said. "If I don't get you tonight, Ronnie, I hope I get Pietro."
"How about Marella?"
"I don't even hope to get her. She's really precious, isn't she?"
"Yes. Very precious."
It was obvious that the girls in the Jilkes Group were just as enamored of Marella as they were of Pietro. There was something indeed precious about the big Sicilian girl with the Amazon body. She excited men and women alike, and she made them spread their desire far and wide, to other men and other women. It was a marvelous gift and we were glad she had been brought to our commune. She had added something vital that had been missing before. But we still could do without Pietro.
We assembled in a clearing near the orchard where the moonlight streamed in like bright lantern light. It was fresh and clean there in the night air and we could see each other clearly. A few couples were kissing, but their activities were not violent--they were in no danger of reaching a premature climax. Two of the girls--Suzanne and Mary--were necking and rubbing their breasts together, and giggling with plea-sure. I noticed that big Wayne, the fullback from Purdue, had his hand on Jimmie's prick and was jerking him softly, but there was no danger in that either.
Marella and Pietro finally came down the path. Pietro had Marella's footlocker on his back and I felt my skin quiver as I thought of the good things inside it. But my eyes were on the bright, moonlit skin of the Amazon. She was positively ravishing and her high breasts with the large dark nipples jiggled with delight as she came across the meadow to the group.
Lucky bastard who gets her tonight, I thought. I knew it wouldn't be me.
Pietro put the footlocker on the ground and opened it. He passed out whips to several members of the group, but didn't bring out the dildos. He turned to us and grinned.
"We start," he said in his old snarling voice, "with a good little act called running the gauntlet."
Then he described how it went. Two lines of people wielding whips were to line up in the meadow. The rest of us would circle to the opposite end of the two lines and run like ,hell back to the footlocker. Sitting on the footlocker would be Marella, with her legs spread wide. The idea was for each of us to run through the two lines of people with whips and kneel down in front of Marella, our queen. We were to kiss her snatch as passionately as we could for three seconds, then rush around and get in line to run the gauntlet again.
Each person would run the gauntlet three times, then take a whip from someone in the line so that that person could run the gauntlet and kiss Marella's pussy. There was nothing clever or original about the game, but it proved to be damned exciting after the first run.
When everyone had run the gauntlet, Pietro said, he would explain the next phase of the game. So we started.
I didn't get a whip at first. I was to be the first to run the gauntlet. The idea was for each person in the double line to get in one good whack with his whip, while trying to avoid hitting the runner in the face or eyes. It wasn't an easy task.
I stood at the far end of the meadow and got ready for the run. Far in the distance, perhaps fifty yards away, was Marella, sitting like a glorious naked ruler on the footlocker. In the bright moonlight, I could make out her heavy breasts and the dark thatch of her cunt.
"Go!" Pietro yelled.
I ran. By the time I got to the first two people with whips, I was going at full speed. But I wasn't fast enough to avoid the whips.
Crack, crack, crack.
The snapped like firecrackers in the crisp moon-light. I felt them, like vicious hornet stings, on my shoulders, back, neck, buttocks and legs. One whip tangled temporarily around my erect cock, but it did no damage. It felt good, as a matter-of-fact.
Crack, crack, crack.
Down the line I ran, my eyes on the delectable target at the proposed terminus of the run. Marella smiled as I came out of the lines with the whips still cracking at my heels. My whole body was afire with pain and lust--I don't know why the latter became a part of the picture, but it did.
I fairly leaped to Marella's feet and grasped her heavy thighs. I slid my hands around her buttocks and, while my body still stung from more than a dozen whip blows, I sank my mouth into her hairy snatch and found her parted cuntlips.
I kissed passionately and sank my tongue deep into the dark cavity.
One and two and three and . . .
Up and running again as the next person--pretty little Lila from Kent State--came squealing up be-hind me.
The taste of Marella's musky cunt was still on my lips as I ran back down the meadow and took my place in line behind lovely Carla.
"Did it hurt?" she asked, a little breathlessly.
"Like crazy," I said, "but worth it. Worth every lash."
"Oh god, I'm scared," she said.
I slipped my cock up between her tender thighs and nudged it into the thicket of her pussy. She trembled and squeezed her thighs against my shaft. The run through the two lines of whips and the kissing of Marella's cunt had aroused me greatly and my cock was already dripping with pre-seminal fluid. Carla put her hand down and felt the moisture. She dabbled it with a finger and spread it luxuriously around the head of my dick.
We moved together like that, up toward the lines of whips. Behind me, Lila clung to my back, her firm breasts pressing against my hot skin, her bushy snatch brushing my buttocks that still flared from the heat of the lashes from, my first run.
And then it was Carla's turn. She leaned down and quickly kissed my cock for courage, then ran like a frightened deer between the lines.
The whips cracked and crackled in the moonlit air.
My second run was far superior to the first. Every whip found its mark, some of them twice. My body was on fire when I emerged from the end of the lines and my bobbing cock was throbbing with desire. I had a tremendous impulse to ignore the rules and to ram my hot cock into Marella--anyplace into her--instead of kneeling almost politely to kiss her twat. But I fought that impulse and dropped gratefully to my knees in front of her. She grasped my head and pulled it to her with gusto. She was hot and writhing on the footlocker now, greatly aroused by the many kisses and caresses she had received.
Her pussy was open and fluid now. It fairly snapped at my tongue and lips as I pressed a hot kiss into the moist cunt-flesh. I pushed my tongue in, found her clitoris and pressed it before I began the count.
One and two and three and . . .
Off and running again.
When I started away from Marella this time, I was so unnerved and passionate I stumbled twice getting back in line for my third run. Carla was there in front of me and I couldn't stand it any longer.
The line moved slowly, so I took the opportunity to give my prick a kind of treat. I bent Carla over and found her pussy with the tip of my cock. I pushed and she squealed. The head popped through her cunt-mouth and slid deliciously up through the walls to the bottom.
Ah, sweet pleasure in the shimmering moonlight.
The uncoupling was a brutal surprise. I was so lost in the passion and ecstasy of the moment that I didn't realize it when Carla's time came to run the gauntlet. She realized it, however, and she took off like a jet plane. We uncoupled with a loud pop and it felt as though part of thy prick had been wrenched off. But the pain down there only enhanced my pleasure and the memory of having been buried deep in Carla's pussy; and heightened the anticipation of my final run through the gauntlet.
That run was pure pleasure and pain, all gripped into one tight ball of pleasure. I ran slower than usual, although the prize at the end was no less desirable. The whips rained on me and I felt blood oozing down my buttocks and onto my testicles and thighs. I noticed also, during this run, that all the guys in the line were erect and all the girls were panting and heaving with passion. They were getting as much pleasure from the skit as the runners--or almost, anyway.
When I reached the end, Marella held her arms out to me and I melted. I fell to the ground, not minding the fact that my stiff-prick was being bruised by the weight of my body on the rough earth. Weeds with prickly seeds ground into my cock and groin and stomach, but I didn't, care. I crawled on my belly to the gaping cunt of the big Amazon and lifted my head to plant a long, hard-sucking kiss on that beautiful organ.
"Bene, bene, bene," she said softly.
I almost fainted with pure ecstasy.
It was my turn in the line now and I took a whip from a very eager little Ludith, from Antioch, and watched as she skirted the lines and ran to be next to run the gauntlet. I hefted the whip in my hand to get the feel and weight right, then raised it as beautiful Tonia came rushing through. I aimed for her breasts, missed and caught her square across the thighs. She squealed as the whips flashed across her body, raising lovely welts, inflicting pinprick pain that shot through to the very core of her existence.
And then she was through and I saw her upraised buttocks as she knelt to kiss the queen's cunt.
There was no time to observe all that was going on. I was aware that Pietro was sitting on a stump off to the side, not participating in the game he had created. It was no matter. I was getting too much pleasure out of the game to even care what he was up to.
One after another they came down the line and my arm raised and fell. I put everything I had into the lashes with the whip, but most of my blows seemed to fall on air. I concentrated then on accuracy instead of strength.
Sofia ran through, sluggishly, and I aimed for her buttocks. I scored perfectly and was rewarded with a sudden oozing of blood from the long lash across both cheeks of her ass. She roared with pleasure and pain as the whip bit into her skin and I felt my cock jerk involuntarily as I derived a considerable part of that pleasure.
Beside me was Marianne and she was belting the runners with all her might. She was combining strength with accuracy--and she rarely missed. I studied her movements, enthralled with the way her breasts rose and fell with each violent lash of the whip. Just when I was learning her technique, pretty little Lila from Kent State finished her three runs and dashed up eagerly to take the whip from Marianne. Lila was pure energy--and little else. Her slim body jerked and danced about as she flashed the whip. She rarely landed a blow and occasionally tangled her whip in mine, but she was a delight to watch. She was on my left side, so I took my unoccupied left hand and slipped it up between her legs. I found her flowing cunt and slipped two fingers inside. That seemed to calm us both and we laid the lashes on heavily and accurately while I finger-fucked her.
When the last of the runners had made their three journeys through the lines, Pietro got up from his stump and stood on the footlocker beside Marella. The girl was still sitting with her legs spread and her breasts were heaving violently with an extreme of passion and lust. Her eyes exuded lust as she stared out at the assembled group.
She wanted satisfaction now and I longed hungrily to be the one to bring her that satisfaction. But Pietro had other ideas.
"And now," he said in his growling voice, "I run the gauntlet."
He lined us all up--thirteen on each side--and brought out more whips so that all of us were armed. We constituted a long and formidable gauntlet.
Marella took her place on the footlocker and Pietro walked to the far end of the meadow. He stood there like an immense statue, his big Sicilian cock jutting high and reflecting the beams of the ever-shining moon. Then he began walking, not running, toward us.
My god, I hissed under my breath, he's going to walk the gauntlet.
And that's exactly what he did.
We were so surprised when he came walking slowly . between the lines that nobody dropped a whip on him. When he was. a third of the way through, he shouted: "The whips! Use the whips!"
The lines sprang into action. Whips went up into the moonlight and flashed down on his slowly proceeding body.
Crack, crack, crack!
I had learned the proper movement now and, as Pietro approached, I put all the strength, venom and accuracy I could summon into my first blow. I caught him squarely on his broad, hairy shoulders and brought blood. It also brought a great deal of satisfaction. My second blow caught him around the thighs and, from the way he flinched, I think the tip of the whip bit into his upright cock. I hoped it did, anyway.
When he reached the end, he knelt almost reverently in front of Marella and kissed each of her waiting breasts. He kissed each for ten seconds and then slid down to her cunt and literally mauled it for a full minute.
Marella was ecstatic. She cried and squealed and clutched Pietro's bloody body to her.
Then Pietro slowly and calmly arose and circled our group for his second walk through the gauntlet.
We were ready for him this time. We heaped on the punishment, but he didn't quicken his stride. He walked slowly and deliberately through the cloud-burst of leather thongs. When he reached me, he was bloody from shoulders to ankles. It was impossible to find a spot on him that had not already been ravaged by whiplashes, so I lashed out indiscriminately, hitting any part of him that was handy. I caught him across the small of the back and the whip gave off a squishy sound as it bit into raw flesh and running blood.
After his third walk, he could barely standup. He stumbled the few remaining yards to Marella and fell between her legs. Even his face was bloody now and he bled on Marella's shimmering white thighs. The blood showed distinctly in the crisp moonlight and made our queen even more desirable.
Pietro lay there for a very long time and we thought the game had come to an end. He would bring Marella to climax and the rest of us would be set free to continue our orgy under our own terms.
But we were greatly mistaken.
Just when Marella seemed about to reach her fantastic climax, Pietro arose and stood looking down at her. He spoke and we could barely hear him.
"If that is what you want," he mumbled to Marella, "so be it."
He turned then and walked up to the lines. We didn't know whether to whip him or not, so we did nothing--which was the right thing. He came up to me and regarded me with a kind of disdain for a long moment.
"She wants you again," he said with a wide smattering of disappointment in his voice. "She shall have you. However, my friend, my good chief, you must walk the gauntlet before you can have her."
I knew then why he had walked instead of run through the two lines of whips. Marella was a demanding woman. The man for her must be the man who suffered the most. He had been afraid she would chose someone else and he had deliberately taken the most brutal punishment to offset it.
It hadn't worked.
She wanted me.
And I had to walk the gauntlet to get her. I stared down at the waiting beauty and wondered if it would be worth it.
It was--and I knew it.