Chapter 6
In Paris Connie and Clem were en-joying themselves. This is an understatement for at that particular moment they were both in the throes of a particularly powerful orgasm. The situation was an unusual one because Connie was dominant in more ways than one. Firstly, she was above him, and secondly she held the whip handle literally. Spread-eagled on a bed with hands and feet tied to the posts, Clem, his back a bloody patchwork of vicious whip strokes, was fren-ziedly rubbing his penis on the cheap hotel blanket. Wildly slashing at his back and buttocks, her hand a blur between her open thighs, Connie was coming. The orgasm rose to a pitch of unbelievable intensity, one so powerful that she collapsed over him as it reached the climax, half unconscious. Clem too had had few to match the one her flogging had caused and shouted his pleasure as he came.
It hadn't taken Connie long to discover that he was a masochist. The Apache show that he had taken her to had excited him beyond words and on the way back to the hotel he kept telling her how much he would have liked to play the part of the beaten and kicked man. Realizing that this was the one sure way of keeping him interested in her, and answering a latent streak of sadism in her, she had persuaded him to ask two prostitutes back home with them.
They sat together on a large sofa with pulled up skirts and hands slowly moving between their legs. Plump, with the sensual face that sometimes seems to distinguish the Paris prostitute, they had provided the whip that Connie had so savagely thrashed him with.
Wiping a spot of Clem's blood off her arm, she sat up and looked around her. The two whores stopped their activities and waited to see what next she wanted them to do, polite smiles on their faces. Beckoning to them, she indicated that they should undress. The shrugged and unzipped their dresses. These crazy English!
Connie really had no idea what she was going to do, just the vague sexual itch that still remained unsatisfied telling her that she required more stimulation before she would be content. Pushing the darker and larger of the two back until she half sprawled open-legged over the unconscious Clem, she knelt down in front of her and with trembling fingers separated the lips of her much-used cunt. It was wet, and quite obvious that she had come at least once already. Telling the other to sit with her legs either side of her body, and toss herself off at the same time as she manipulated her clitoris, Connie began sucking gently at the cunt in front of her. Instinctively she knew on which parts to lavish special care and on which to lightly touch merely as a preamble. The delicate fingers of the one behind her began drawing out sensations so sharp that she almost gasped every time they moved. It was exactly as she would have done it herself, without the effort of doing so.
Burying her tongue deeper in between the warm lips again, she began teasing at her clitoris, circling it, rubbing heavily across it, up and down, and finally with the most delicate motion vibrating her tongue across it. Somehow the passive one communicated her pleasure to the one behind Connie and she speeded up both her own fingers and the ones buried in Connie's. All three began to rock and twist their hips as they began to come.
There was little Clem could do beneath the plump whore but try and stop himself from screaming with pain. He had regained consciousness when she had leant back against him, and now every time she moved it felt as though she was deliberately rubbing herself across the weals to give him yet more pain. The beating, the most savage he had ever had, was pleasurable but this, this was something different. He couldn't untie himself, his arms were too far apart and tied too tightly and he couldn't roll himself out of the way without causing himself more pain. Still, in his heart of hearts, he had to admit that he was enjoying himself. For all that, the idea of being first humiliated by Connie and then being subjected to the indignity of having a where roll over him, appealed to him immensely. This was what he had been looking for-the absolute non-admittance of his existence of his being there, the total disregard of his presence. In a spasm of retrospective lust the whole scene flooded back to him.
She had a whip in her hand and was going to beat him, was going to whip him. He shivered, and pressed himself harder against the bed, the pain in his back magically disappearing.
Squatting with legs stretched wide apart Connie pressed back against the hand behind her. Two fingers were thrust deep in her vagina and were sending blinding spasms of pleasure through her at their every movement. She was on the bring of an orgasm, and to judge by the dripping wet cunt that leapt up to meet her tongue, the plump whore was, too. The one behind her was moaning, her garlic-laden breath coming in sudden gusts as her fingers accelerated their movements.
Connie's face was suddenly deluged, as with slow passionate movements of her powerful hips, the whore spread her thighs even further apart and came. Clutching the sagging thighs in front of her, her face a mask of lust, Connie let herself come on the subtly thrusting fingers behind her. The orgasm rocked her, tearing small cries out of her throat, and then, when she felt she could bear no more, gently subsided, leaving her breathless and weak. She didn't hear the one behind her come-she was too shaky to notice anything.
"What about me?" Clem's voice floated over to her and it was all she could do to raise her head.
"What about me?" he asked again, urgently.
"Haven't you had enough?" she asked wearily.
"Not after that I haven't. Please Connie, do something for me."
Without letting him see her she picked up the whip again. Imagine him wanting more after what she had given him. Imagine it!
"Slowly, her legs shaking, she stood up, concealing it behind her. "This will teach you to ask for more!"
Savagely she slashed at his buttocks, watching with fascinated detachment the way his face contorted with pain. "This will teach you!"
The two whores, amazed at the indefatigable Connie, eyed each other and returned to the sofa. They should worry; they were getting paid to be there!
Again Connie raised the whip, unmindful of the screams that were torn from him. Selfish bastard, he is only concerned with his own pleasure, she thought. "This will teach you!" she said aloud. "How's that for pain, Clem, darling?"
"My God! Connie, you're killing me!"
"How's the pain, angel?"
"It's too much. Stop! Stop!" "Not now, darling. You've goaded me too far!" "I beg you!"
"That's right, darling." She raised the whip again, "Beg me!"
Something clicked in her and she felt a spasmodic twitch in her aching cunt. This was what she had been missing. She hit him again, savoring his shrieks. This was the ultimate in sensation; there was nothing to match the feeling of sexual power that the whip brought on in her. The heavy crack and the tremor in your arm when you hit him! Her eyes bright with lust and her hips jerking at every stroke, she belabored him with increasing fury.
"There, you-bastard! How's-that-for-pain?" Up went her arm and down came the whip, flecks of blood spattering the bed clothes. Up, down, up, down.
Amidst the fierce pain which he bore with necessary stoicism, Clem was aware that his penis was painfully erect and that every time he writhed it pressed and rubbed on the blanket. Would it ever stop? Did he want her to? He looked at her through tear-filled eyes.
Wearing only stockings and suspender belt, with her feet planted well apart, she was imagination made real. Those heavy swaying breasts and broad hips! And that arm as it rose!
Her hand clamped between her thighs and one finger furiously rubbing the half-exposed clitoris, she felt as if she were going mad. There was no stopping now-nothing could halt the flailing arm. And the nerve wracking-pulsing in her cunt. The sight of the blood on his torn buttocks would have normally made her feel slightly sick, but now it only excited. If only I could do this to John, she thought. If only I could tell him how much I'm enjoying it.
It was impossible for the two whores to remain detached for long. Their sensual natures had become inflamed at the sight of a Connie so abandoned as to be totally disinterested in their presence, so they fell upon one another with renewed ardor. Lying head to toe, they curved their backs and buried their faces between the thighs of the other, and began lapping at them like cats starved of milk.
Connie had climbed on the bed and with feet either side of his shoulders was aiming between his buttocks trying to hit the most delicate places. Judging from his screams, she was finding them. Her cunt seemed to swell and the familiar sucking sensation in her vagina warned her that she was about to come. Her arm was tiring, but she still managed to make every stroke hurt as much as before.
Poor Clem, for his condition was pitiful, was at breaking point. Praying that an orgasm would deliver furiously on the bed, hoping desperately that she would come before she inflicted any more strokes. Miraculously his penis swelled and the pain left his shoulders, only pleasure filling him. The whip felt only like a light tattoo on his scrotum, a feeling so new and pleasurable that he almost fought against the orgasm it was producing.
A red haze before her eyes, the orgasm welling up in her, Connie flailed at the bloody mass in front of her like a woman possessed. Her fingers flying over her twitching clitoris, she half squatted over him, preparing herself for the final humiliation that she had thought up for him.
"The pain-how's the pain?" she muttered half to herself and half to him.
"The whip-oh my God!-I can't stop ... I'm coming!" She began babbling with lust, forcing herself to slash at him with greater force.
"The pain you're having! I'm coming! I'm coming!" Spreading her legs even wider apart and squatting lower, she held the lips of her cunt open wide.
"Here's something for you, Angel-it's here, oh! it's here! I'm pissing on you ... I'm pissing! Fuck, it's so hot. Pissing on you!"
With jerking, thrusting hips, she splashed the heavy jet over the weals before her, the whip dropping from her nerveless fingers. The heavy smoking stream fell noisily, gushing out of her and slopping off his back to form pools beneath his threshing hips. "I can't stand this," she thought numbly. "I'm going to die if it doesn't stop."
It continued for a long moment in separate finer jets, and then finally stopped.
The urine burning his back triggered off an uncontrollable orgasm that almost made him lose consciousness again, never had he known anything so powerful, so nerve shattering. Nothing had ever compared with this, no self-induced orgasm after a fortnight of enforced celibacy had ever been so pleasurable. He al- most screamed as he felt the heavy bursts of sperm shoot out of his swollen penis, his voice unrecognizable with lust.
He could do little afterward but wait patiently while Connie untied him. His back burned like fire and every movement made him jump and writhe in agony. Through the pain he wondered whether it had been worth it, but when he felt her hand softly caressing his cheek, all doubts were dispelled and he smiled gratefully at her.
The two whores stood up, wiped their dripping thighs, walked over and began helping Connie to untie him. Supporting him, they helped him to stand up, hardly believing their eyes when they saw the still wet blood on his back. It was a mass of ugly furrows that dripped blood and looked as if someone had repeatedly dragged a sharp pointed grappling-iron across it. He gasped as she carefully sponged him down, shivering as drops of the cold water ran down his sweating thighs.
The whores holding him by the elbows sighed sympathetically, both glad they didn't get their kicks that way. So brutal! When she had finished she guided him back to the bed, stuck a cigarette between his lips and helped him to sit down. He grimaced and then smiled thankfully at her.
"You were wonderful," he said slowly.
"I hope I didn't hurt you too much; I want to do it again, before we leave Paris," she smiled as fear flooded his eyes, enjoying the new sense of power she felt.
"Not again for a few days- I couldn't stand it."
She patted his cheek absent-mindedly. "No, not for a few days."
"What about them?" He pointed to the two women who were putting the finishing touches to their makeup.
"They'll need some money, won't they?" she answered sweetly. "After that I think they'll need some!"
Reaching for his wallet, Clem extracted the equivalent of ninety pounds, handing them forty-five each.
"We'll have a night off, shall we, Lucette?" They laughed and thanked him, casting sympathetic glances at him as they left.
During the transaction and while they were leaving, Connie had been thinking. Clem was useless to her with her in her search for further excitement. The little flame of lust still burned within her as brightly as before, refusing to be quenched. Something had to be done about it.
"How's the back?" she asked sympathetically. "Not too bad now," Raising his arms to test it, he winced as the half-dry cuts re-opened. "It doesn't look too good." "Oh, it'll be all right," he replied bravely. A plan was forming in her mind, the pieces falling into place as she picked up the pieces of rope that had secured him to the bed. Reasoning told her that he wouldn't object if she tied him up again, and that he might even enjoy it. She had read somewhere that the pleasure of many masochists was to be tied up, abandoned, while their mistress was out enjoying herself, oblivious to their suffering. Secretly the idea appealed to her as well. Yes, she thought, leave him tied up here while I go out and search for something new-that'll really give him something to think about.
"Turn around, Clem. I've thought of something very nice to do to you. No, it won't hurt; don't be frightened."
"I couldn't stand another beating."
"I know you couldn't and I'm not going to."
"Why do you want to tie my wrists up again then?" he asked nervously.
"So that you won't run away, darling," she said cheerfully. "I want to make certain you're here when I get back."
Clem spun around, fear in his eyes. "You're not going to leave me here, are you?"
"Sit down and raise your legs a little. I want to tie your ankles."
"But I don't want to."
"I said, sit down!" she shouted at him, her eyes blazing. He was tied both hand and foot now, and even if he wanted to come with her, he'd have to come naked. Locking his clothes in the wardrobe, she pocketed the key and smiled at him, a feeling of satisfaction coming over her. That should keep him wondering, she thought, and then to him: "You'll have plenty of chance to sleep while I'm gone."
"How long will you be?" he asked urgently.
"I don't know, about four or five hours at the most."
"Good God, Connie!" he exploded. "You can't do this to me!"
"Can't I?" she replied distantly. "We'll have to see about that, won't we?"
Rolling him over until he was face downward in the soaking blanket, she looked at him pityingly for a moment, and walked toward the bathroom, wondering what the evening had in store for her ...