Chapter 4
Delia seldom felt such vindictiveness as she experienced now. She was furious at Horace. She had been worked up to wanting and needing a good ravishing fuck and he had disappointed her. Damn him, damn him to hell!
Her hands stung from slapping him. It was ironic that he had turned out to be a masochistic creep. She never would have dreamed the truth before tonight. But here he was, crouched on his knees before her and accepting her punishing blows without resistance. She was stunned that he could take it. She had been pointedly slapping him with all her might. His only response was a sharp intake of breath and a short, impulsive cry of pain. It did little to relieve her bitterness, but it helped some. She wished she had a leather whip. She'd like to whip this kooky Mr. Horace Hayden to within an inch of his life.
He deserved it, too. He deserved all the degradation she could put on him. He had degraded her in the office before the other employees, embarrassed her with his sarcastic criticism of her work when she made the slightest error. He had driven her to despise him. He claimed now, of course, that he acted as he did because he was struggling not to fall in love with her. Love! Did he call this love! This having her beat on him until his face was beet red? Some love! It was ridiculous. No, it was hilarious!
She realized, however, that she found a certain element of pleasure punishing him. It stimulated excitement, made her nerves tingle, gave her a feeling of vengeance. She decided she rather liked the idea of torturing the creep. She'd been denied a hard cock in her, a frustration in its own right. So perhaps she could find some manner of relief in a different direction.
Yes, she definitely wished she had a leather whip. She thought of something. She clambered around until she was leaning over the back of the seat, on her belly. She found Horace's trousers. She jerked the belt from them. While she was doing this her ass was in Horace's face. He plastered the backs of her legs and buttocks with hot-breathed kisses. She supposed he was again jacking his cock while ravishing her ass, working his prick up to a new hard-on. She hoped so.
Delia returned to her former position. Yes, the creep was fondling his cock and he looked absurd. Her laugh dripped sarcasm. She folded the belt, held it by the buckle and other end. His large eyes stared.
"You fist-fucking bastard," she hissed. "I'm going to give you plenty of what you've got coming."
"Please," he babbled. "Oh God, please."
"You want me to whip you, don't you? You love it, right? Answer me."
"Yes! Oh, yessss!"
"Beg me," she said. "I want to hear you beg."
"I beg you! Please, Delia, please! I'll do anything, I'll say anything! I'm begging, I'm begging!"
She threw back her head and laughed. Then she swung the belt on vicious impulse. It struck him across his big shoulder. He made a short cry of pain. Her lips curled in a cruel smile. He remained motionless on his knees, only his hand moving, stroking his rising cock. The whipping turned him on, apparently. The pain stiffened his big prick.
She hit him again, the belt slapping over his shoulder and against his back. He winced visibly, issued a small yelp, sharp and tortured. She began flaying him with steady, studied purpose. His cock got larger and harder with each stinging blow, and he kept pumping it amidst his gasps of pain-pleasure. Her excitement reached a new high. It was fun whipping him. She hadn't imagined it could produce such titillating sensations.
"Take that!" she gritted, hitting him as hard as she could. "And that . . . and that . . . and that!"
Finally he started groaning. He fell forward, his face in her naked lap. His back was streaked red from her inspired lashings. "Delia . . . oh, Delia," he muttered as he swung his head from side to side, mouthing her upper thighs. "You bring out all the worst in me . . . " His voice was a quaking sob.
"And you bring out the worst in me, too, damn you. Have you had enough? I have. My arm's tired enough to fall off from swinging this silly belt. I want to go home."
"No-not yet." He suddenly sounded different. He reached and jerked the belt from her hand. He dropped it, then rose higher on his knees, pushing her back against the car seat His big hands grabbed her tits and squeezed the resilient flesh. The harshness of his grip felt delicious to her. Her large firm boobs and pointed nipples were exceedingly sensitive to fondling, especially when she'd been turned on erotically. She felt her nipples flare instantly now, and quivers streak from them to emanate through her body clear down to her toes, delighting every inch of her flesh.
His hands encircled her tits, tightened around them, forcing her nipples to stand up straight and hard. He covered one of the pink buds with his mouth, sucked it hungrily. His tongue lashed back and forth across the sensitive bud and she trembled and sighed in heavenly response.
Horace went to the other pushed-up tit, sucked it and tongued it also. Delia thought she would swoon. "Oooo," she purred emotionally. "Oh, it feels so marvelous.. . . "
Horace started darting from one tit to the other in rapid succession, biting her nipples and quickly sucking away the pain, going side to side in a rhythmic motion of his head and mouth, biting and sucking, sucking and biting, his lips making a juicy "pop" deserting one for the other.
Delia thought she'd explode if he didn't stop ravishing her boobs, explode into orgasm. She quivered in bliss. She knew she'd die if something didn't happen soon.
"Fuck me!" she shrieked. "Fuck me, Horace! Fuck me!"
His large hands went down her sides, shoved roughly around her and down to capture a firm ass-cheek in each hand. He gripped tightly, his strong fingers digging, hurting her. She felt divine excitement.
He moved up, clasping her ass to his belly as he drew her to him. She felt the bristles of his coarse hair ruffing her pussy as he rose higher. She spread her legs as far as she could, aching to feel his thick cock slide inside her. He bit her neck and shoulders, grunting and growling and his breath was hot on her flesh.
"Come on, Horace! Hurry!" She strained and trembled, bucked her hips, wanting his prick in her. She felt the stone-hard knob punching at her pussy hair, trying to find entrance. It started in once, then slipped out from the over-eagerness of her bucking hips. She felt like screaming obscenities.
He got in suddenly, the huge knob parting her cuntlips, and for a moment they both froze and forgot to breathe. Her cuntlips were very wet with her flowing juices, soaking the throbbing head of his prick. She could feel the knob just inside her vagina, swelling and throbbing. Her heart raced a mile a minute. The suspense was unbearable.
"Give it to me! Give it to me!" she shrilled. In sudden fierceness she sank her teeth in his shoulder and bit hard. He gasped. His grip on her asscheeks became two vise-grips, and he roughly yanked them closer, at the same time driving his cock inside her to the base of his ribbed shaft. Delia gurgled with the ecstasy of it, issued sharp little cries of happiness. She clamped her arms around his neck, strained, arched her hips to engulf more of the thrilling cock, using her neck-hug for leverage. Her clit danced against his shaft.
He began driving his swollen cock in and out with deliberate, slow movements. Her brain reeled. Her sharp nails dug and scraped his back and shoulders. Her gasps of anticipation sounded like reptilian hisses in her own ears.
She felt an overwhelming orgasm washing over her, and she shrieked, "I'm cumming! Oh God! Give it to me! Fuck me-fuck me!"
Horace came alive to her need. He hunched faster, sliding his marbled shaft and bulging cockhead in and out of her hot, juice-filled vagina. It made gurgly-bubbly noises, lustfully obscene sounds of wild, uninhibited fucking.
Delia's excitement reached incredible heights. Her brain reeled, her flesh sang pure rapture, her body strained for ecstatic release. She bit and clawed and squealed her mindless bliss. "Oh God! Oh God!"
She orgasmed twice in quick succession, and once more when Horace pumped his load inside her. She floated back down to normality by degrees, sighing deeply, happily. Horace's cock remained comfortably inside her, bathed in warm, flooding juices of their cum. It felt very pleasant. His cock, deep within her, made impromptu surges for life, and she squeezed her vagina muscles about it, milking it for every last drop.
"Now," she said finally, "can we please get dressed and go?" She pushed at him. "Whew! I'm suffocating! You're heavy!"
"Do we have to?"
"Yes! Now come on, be a good boy. This heat is too much! I'm soaking wet with perspiration and we're getting jism all over the car seat."
"How are you going to feel about me tomorrow? At work?"
"I don't know. I haven't had time to think about it"
"Friends or enemies? I'd like to know."
Delia exhaled miserably, felt she was smothering beneath his weight felt her body drenched slimy slick with sweat. She struggled briefly. "Friends if you get off me, dammit! Enemies if you don't! I can't breathe!"
"Okay, okay . . . " He lifted off her. "But I sure hate to. I'd like to keep you here and fuck you till daylight. You're terrific. And I may never get another chance. How about it? Will you?"
"Wait and she said, sitting up beside him. "I'll think about it. Get me your handkerchief, I've got to wipe off this seat. Thank God, it's vinyl I'd hate to sit in a puddle and ruin my dress."
He got out of the car, opened the rear door, fumbled with his trousers, then gave her his handkerchief. He stood dumbly watching her rub the seat clean. She finished and threw the handkerchief on the ground at his feet. "Put on your clothes; Horace! What are you waiting for?"
She leaned over the seat, retrieved her dress, sat back and maneuvered it over her head. Horace was stepping into his trousers, watching her. He stumbled and nearly fell. "You're so beautiful, Delia. So incredibly luscious."
"I know it," she said testily. "I'm gorgeous, I'm the original femme fatale, I'm sweeter than candy."
"You are-you really are."
"You should know," she answered meanly. "You've had a double sample. Now shut up and finish dressing, will you? I want to get away from here!"
She got the dress on and had to stretch out to work the hem down over her hips. It proved a difficult task. She had the hem tugged halfway down her thighs when she paused.
"Damn," she said fitfully, "I'm still dribbling between my legs . . . Do you have another handkerchief, Horace?"
"No-" He still watched her intently, her struggling into the dress having fascinated him as her ass and legs strained in his direction. "I'll take care of it, though!"
With that he drove his head between her thighs and began licking the juices from her cunt. Stunned at the abrupt attack, her first impulse was to object, but then she hesitated. His tickly tongue was busily doing an excellent job. Finally she couldn't help it, she had to laugh.
"AH right, you pig, clean me out At least this'll save my dress."
She sighed and lay back.
Thirty minutes later Horace drove her home. He insisted on seeing her to the door of the eighth-floor apartment in the new beach-front high-rise complex where she lived. She shared the expensive flat with another girl because neither of them could afford the exorbitant rent otherwise.
She hoped Vivian didn't have a party going this late. Delia felt bushed after her trying evening with her boss and all she wanted now was a hot bath and a comfortable bed.
Horace pleaded to come in and spend the night. Pleaded pitifully. "I can't let you go! I just can't get enough of you!"
She smiled very sweetly, patted his cheek and said no. "Go home and dream about me," she taunted. And then she closed the door firmly in his face while he still whined and begged. It felt delicious to cut him off so cruelly. She smiled again. It did marvels for the feminine ego to have some man suffering for you, she thought happily. She loved to keep at least one on the string at all times. Kept a girl's spirits riding high.
She turned from the door and headed toward her bedroom next to Viv's. She frowned. The small sitting room was a shambles. That screwball redhead! she thought, seeing the dress flung carelessly over a chair, pink panties and bra askew on the sofa, ashtrays filled to overflowing with butts and ashes. She shook her head. Vivian Knight was one for the books, no doubt about it. Wild, flighty, spoiled and reckless, the nineteen-year-old girl's sole purpose in life was to have fun and ball. Her wealthy family had kicked her out, she'd confided, and she'd been forced to go to work. She sold dresses in a smart shop catering to the tourist trade and did some modeling as part of the deal. She had the face and figure for it, no one could argue that.
The two girls had met when Delia ran one of those "Girl to share apartment" ads in the local newspaper and Vivian had contacted her. That had been a month ago. So far they'd gotten along famously. The only problem was the harum-scarum redhead's refusal to keep the apartment tidy, leaving most of the cleaning up to Delia. Delia had reprimanded her several times, in a friendly way, of course, but it did no good. This was no big thing, however. Delia supposed it was fortunate they got along as well as they did. Things could have been a lot worse.
Delia didn't see any men's attire scattered beside Viv's, so she assumed the girl didn't have a guy sleeping with her. Not that it mattered. The two girls had settled the sex subject in the very beginning. Each to her own private affairs and the other wouldn't interfere. That suited Delia just fine.
Delia went in her own room, undressed, bathed and crawled in bed, feeling much better and refreshed after the orgiastic interlude with her horny boss. She smiled to herself, thinking about him. She'd sure fixed his goose.
But it hadn't turned out too badly after all, she reflected, once he'd managed to turn her on. Actually she'd had fun in a gory sort of way. That was one thing about her, she realized. If somebody got her all hot and aroused, even someone she didn't like, she couldn't help it, she'd let her hair down and go the whole route. If her fuse was lit she had to enjoy the explosion.
She could fight it all she wished but she never won. Sometimes this particular weakness of character got her in more trouble than she bargained for, and it was all so terribly frustrating. She wished she could hold a stronger reign on her sexual urges. She'd be a lot better off.
She sighed defeatedly and closed her eyes. And that's when she heard the crazy sounds coming from Vivian's room.