Chapter 9
The liquor flowed freely the Friday evening that began the last orgy I was to have in my parents' house. I sat by myself, out of the way, clutching an ever-freshened drink to my bare breast, its icy cold matching the chill in my heart. Charley left me alone that night, only casting an occasional speculative glance my way, kept off by my obvious depression.
After a while the lubricious scenes before my eyes excited me enough to make me leave my lonely corner and approach Bob, who had just finished with Carrie. She had returned to her glass, and Bob, looking for Sarah, had found her impaled on Jim's ropy member. As he headed for the doorway, I planted myself in front of him, cocked my hips, and, thrusting my breasts toward him, said, "Maybe I'll do, Bob?"
"Hi, Penny." He slapped my fanny, slid an arm around my waist. "Not just yet. That bitch pretty well finished me for now. But are you sure you want to? You haven't looked very gung-ho this evening."
"I've had just enough to drink, Mister Considerate, so I can forget my troubles for a while. And I want to forget 'em good. Maybe tomorrow I won't feel so bad. Like maybe I'll feel worse! Like ashamed instead of sorry for myself." Drink made me bold and brash, let my despair drive me to seek such solace as I could, even though it might be only temporary.
"If that's what you want, you should be propositioning Charley instead of me." I didn't want his solicitude. I wanted him!
"Oh, he'll tend to me before this weekend's over. Yessirree! You can be sure of that. He just loves to plant it in some nice young thing. Or have that nice young thing chew him dry. Oh, yes! He'll tend to me all right."
"You've had a lot to drink, Penny. I was going to go lie down for a while myself. Why don't you come along, too? You'll feel better later."
"I sure will, on both counts. I thought you'd never ask me. I wanted to start with you first anyway. Oh, why does a girl have to fall in love? Why can't she just be a bitch like Carrie?"
"I'm afraid I can't answer that," he replied as he pulled me through the door with his encircling arm. We found a bedroom and stretched out on the sheets. I pillowed my head on his broad chest, angled one thigh across his belly, and hugged myself closely to him as the tears threatened to come.
He seemed content to lie there forever, gently stroking my back, murmuring soothing words. But, as the hectic glow of alcohol calmed and settled into a sense of some well-being, I began to caress him too. I fondled his flaccid limpness, crusted with former juices, licked his nipples with the damp roughness of my tongue, kissed his neck, and snuggled closer.
My passions rose, kindled by his warm presence, till they drove out all depression, leaving me aglow with desire. I redoubled my tender kneading of his prick, was rewarded by seeing it stir within my grasp, rewarded it by leaping, turning, straddling his chest and planting a gentle kiss on its swelling tip.
His arms, flung aside by my hasty movement, clasped my hips and pulled me down. I yielded to his urging, wondering what he wanted, started briefly when I felt his lips press against my dewy love-nest, and then let him pull me down to meet his thrusting tongue. When it penetrated, slithering between the folds, flickering over the sensitive flesh, I gasped and bore down harder to let him reach more deeply and salve the neglected surfaces of the core of my being. I only rose again to let him breathe when he nipped my soft skin, making me shriek and jump.
I did find a position, eventually, that let us both pursue our interests of the moment. He could breathe, and I could wallow in the delightful sensations he was arousing in me with his loving and attentive tongue.
I returned his attentions, lavishing all my swiftly rising lust on his weary prick, joying in its slowly growing stiffness. When it had grown its utmost I drew it in completely, began to work at it in earnest, while he swabbed the walls of my love-nest with an urgent enthusiasm. Our pulsing rhythms only stopped when he had driven me to the very heights of happiness, letting me view the scene I had thought beyond my reach since Rod had been taken from me. I crested in beautiful agony, coasted down to lie in grateful sprawl upon him, his throbbing prick tightly gripped in my hand, probing the entrance of my ear. He wasn't Rod, but my feelings were as good. My soul was not involved as with my love, but the symphony sung by my nerves was enough, for the present.
When I'd recovered, I raised my head, looked adoringly at his kingly scepter, and kissed its head softly, imploringly. I then rose off him and turned to face him, obeying his whispered plea. He took my head in his hands and joined his lips to mine for a moment before pulling me down beside him. I grasped him firmly and tugged him over me to lie between my widespread and receptive thighs, guided him into the bower he had so well explored, canting my pelvis to open wide the gates.
Once he was well ensconced we began to surge happily together. I relaxed completely under the magical influence of that smooth and slippery sliding back and forth in my sensitive sheath. His tonguing goad to joy had robbed me of none of my ability to appreciate the lilting beat of the happiness he brought me.
I was in no condition to respond when I heard a voice say "Can I play too? Or is this a game just for two?" I opened my eyes and moved my head to see, though Bob must not have heard: he was concentrating with all the effort a man could bring to bear on such a task. Sarah was standing there, beside the bed, her arms akimbo, legs apart, the nipples of her smoothly swelling breasts standing forth in excitement at the sexy sight of our enjoyment.
Startled by my movement, Bob raised his head and stopped his wonderful motion. "Sure, dive right in. The water's fine. What's with the rest of the crowd?" He only halted for a moment though, and I closed my eyes again in bliss, uncaring for the new addition to our loving. As long as he kept going, it was all right. She might even improve things, though that didn't seem possible at the time.
"Charley's gone to sleep, and Jim's petting with Betsy, though I think he's about had it till tomorrow. Carrie's passed out on top of John, and Harriet's in a corner thinking dark thoughts. I don't think anyone is going to bother you." As she stretched out on the bed beside us, she ran a hand in between our bodies, down my belly, stroking smoothly, and encircled Bob's prick with thumb and forefinger, her little finger plucking across that sensitive twig of mine. "Hmmm! Nice and tight in there. Can I get in too?"
Bob raised his belly above mine in reply, and she slid her head between us to flick her tongue across my nipples, setting up an incredible chorus of delight in my nerves. This extremity of thrill may not have been due to any special skill in her tongue, but rather to the utter novelty of this combination of smooth, female skin against me with the contrasting roughness of the rasping beard and horny hands of the man who held me fixed penetratingly to the bed.
I lay still, rapt in fascination at the contrast her smooth hands and knowing lips made with all I had known before, as she released my breasts and slid downward toward our juncture, planting soft and thrilling kisses on her way. When she reached Bob's planted root, her moist lips and active tongue stirred him to greater, faster, efforts. When she flickered over my clitoris, I heaved with sudden spasmodic joy, nearly hurling him off the bed. I knew her head must have been unmercifully smashed by our pounding bodies, but she gave no sign of discomfort, only kept to her self-imposed task of increasing our pleasure.
Her hand stroked down my thigh, up his, and over, caressed our shuttling junction, insinuating a slender finger between the frictioned surfaces, raising my delight to an ever higher pitch. Bob's too, judging from his increasing fervor as he stroked us both toward the approaching goal of our lust and toppled us over it, to slide slowly into the valley of bliss.
While we lay entwined, limp and panting from that mightiest climb of all, Sarah pulled away and left the bed. She soon returned, though, with sponge and towel, and gently wiped away all traces of our loving labors. All thought of Rod was gone from my mind; my attention was wholly centered on the marvelous attentions of these two wonderful persons who, together, could wreak such wonders on my nerves. Her touch, even as she wiped me clean, expunged all memories of sadness, of Charley's heavy touch that I feared so much, and left me wanting more. Bob's caressing touch, following in the path she left behind, turned me into a mass of desire. The orgasm he had wrought in me was gone, forgotten; I was ready for more.
When she had finished, and set her cleaning tools aside, Bob pulled her down between us, and, covering us both with his long body and enfolding us in his arms, said, "You two make Charley's dictatorship bearable. I'd love to have Sarah for a wife and Penny for a mistress. Betsy's not much good as either. This business has frozen her up, as far as I'm concerned. But you two are a pair of delights." He kissed us both resoundingly and then let himself fall between us, turning to keep an arm around each of us, holding us close, cupping a breast with each hand, thumbing the nipples gently, making me squirm anew.
I wished he'd look on me as a wife. That's the way I wanted him at the time. He was a substitute for Rod, and a good one, for I had known him first and liked him all along, but still, I would rather have had him all to myself, without sharing, no matter how delightful that sharing might be. I didn't say anything, though; Sarah had known him longer than I, and my jealousy wasn't really reasonable. I resolved instead to make the best of it and enjoy myself while I could. I didn't expect my release from depression to last. Far from it. I knew it would return, when I was sober and remembering Rod more clearly. Probably, I thought ruefully, it will be even stronger from guilt.
I rolled onto my side and reached for him, only to find him already responding to Sarah's touch. I had to settle for caressing his heavy balls in their gooseflesh sack. I pressed my mouth to his, trading tonguing stabs, exploring, and suddenly felt fingers combing through my damp fur. My fingers found his staff, deserted now, and curled around its length, began to squeeze it rhythmically, hoping to arouse it to its useful glory. When Sarah found my rigid bud, I moaned, thrusting against her probing fingers.
Soon we were entwined together, a tangled knot of limbs and bodies. Sarah had command again of Bob's swelling organ, mouthing it into shape. Bob's hands were roaming freely over two pairs of breasts, stimulating all. I stretched my legs apart to allow her hand free play, while mauling his lips. Her own legs clamped my hand in place, refusing to allow me any other choice, keeping my fingers dabbling in the flowing juices of her desire.
At last Bob had enough and twisted free with a roar. He seized Sarah and laid her beneath him, impaling her with a speed that left her gasping. With one arm he maneuvered me into a position that let him dip his lips into what he must have thought was a pot full of honey, so great was his hungry avidity. So great was our suddenly roused hunger that we all soon peaked, thrashing in our ecstasy, moaning out our happiness.
We fell asleep in that same position. No one moved; his breath bubbled in my damp hairs, my hand cupped his cheek in silent tenderness, his sleeping organ nestled in her warm folds, awaiting only rest to surge again.
Once that night I awoke, disturbed by movement against my thigh. My fingers were pushed from his chin by cool and long nailed fingers, and when my lap was bare they returned, to stroke lightly over the damp membranes, to bring moisture back, to send a shudder through my loins and up my spine. Goosebumps rose, and a moan crept forth.
"Easy, Penny. Don't worry, this'll be good, too." Slow, soft, calming and sensuous.
"Oohh, Sarah. That's nice. Don't stop." Half asleep, tongue thick with rising lust, I was hardly aware that this was a woman, not a man. I was ready, eager, and my nerves were beginning to burn.
"I won't." Her weight slid down across my thighs; my arms went out and up to welcome her, pull her down. She moved between them; languorously, they closed, softly holding her shoulders as she bent her mouth to mine. We kissed, soft lips and tender tongues, exploring gently, slowly.
Her hands stroked smoothly up my sides, her pelvis canted down, bringing her wiry thatch to bear on my sensitive bud. Her hips began to rotate slowly, pressures growing on our loins, her hands closing around my breasts, lips never leaving mine.
Her nails scraped gently over my nipples, pinched and rolled, raising them to rigid turrets, ready for the lips and tongue she moved to them, while my hands slid down her back to clasp her buttocks, holding, pressing her onto me more tightly.
Her lips and hands paid tender homage to my breasts; her lips slowed as she slid down to reach and caress my chest and belly. My hands moved free to find her breasts, ample, soft, diamond tipped. My hands cupped her breasts, felt their weight, as she dipped her tongue into my navel.
She moved again, withdrew from my grasp, left my hands to caress the smoothness of her head and cheek. Her lips and tongue parted the fur of my love-nest, kissed and delved. The sudden electric thrill of her tongue parting the membranes made me gasp; she moaned in reply, nuzzled deeper, and I could stand no more. I tugged at her shoulders, pulled her up to lie beside me.
She rolled to her back, tugged me over, guided my lips and hands to spots she had visited on me. I needed little urging; silently, tenderly, I worshipped her smooth, loving body. My lips found her core, my fingers delved beside my tongue, exploring, discovering the nature of a woman; I felt and tasted, loved the smooth undulations of her tissues, rolled her bud upon my tongue, between my lips and teeth, made her stiffen, moan, and cry, just as I.
She gasped and reached, pulled me over her, brought my weight upon her, foicing her ample breasts into my belly, soft cushions holding me up for her to serve. Her tongue, like mine, delved deeply again, rubbing and curling around the standing clitoris, driving me, as I drove her, into a frenzy of curvetting lust.
Our motions must have awakened Bob, for I suddenly felt his hands grip my hips, steadying me for the lunging penetration of his passion gorged tool, stiffened into madness by the sight of our activity. As he sank into the cushioned depths, her mouth left off its intimate probings to lave sensuously our slowly moving contact. Her tongue swabbed gently round the lips that held him, making them contract in shuddering gooseflesh, moved to kiss and lick his balls, sucking them into her mouth, tenderly caressing them there. We rocked and sucked like that until, vanquished by the rising tide of completion, we fell apart into deep sleep once more, waking this time only with the call to breakfast, brought by a cynically smiling Betsy.
When we trooped into the kitchen I was staring bemusedly at Sarah's bare breasts and looking around at the others on display, for, despite the renewal of my depression with the morning, I was wondering about the new erotic possibilities she had opened up. The female form had taken on new meaning and I was noticing it as I never had before. Sarah's breasts sagged slightly with the weight of years, where mine stood up-tilted in the pride of youth, offering themselves for tender womanly kisses in my imagination then. I had never dreamed that my body could be so pleasantly receptive to another woman, nor hers to me.
My reflections were interrupted, however, by Charley's rude leer that greeted my arrival. He seemed more interested than usual, as though he might have some designs on me. And so it proved, for when we had all finished our meal and were sitting back with our coffee, looking at each other and seeing how unattractive so many bare bodies really were in the cold gray light of morning, my father shifted in his chair, cleared his throat, and, on a sharp glance from Charley, started off.
"Uh, Penny. Uh, Charley has offered me-us-a way out of our ... our problem. He ... harumph, says he'll cancel our debt and give us enough money to move away from here if ... if you'll, harrumph, agree to go with him, be his, uh, concubine until he lets you go, uh, off on your own."
I was astonished that he would even think of letting such a thing happen. My face must have shown my feelings, for he suddenly exclaimed, "Don't look at me like that. Your mother said we should put it to you anyway. Uh, after all you're old enough to look after yourself."
"Yes," put in my mother. "You can go away and get a job a long ways away from here. You can leave us here to suffer for your letting people find out. At least Charley's thoughtful enough to see that everyone here isn't from the same neighborhood."
This was my mother? It didn't seem possible. I knew she was jealous, of me and of all the others too; we all robbed her of her husband; but how could she be so jealous? So jealous that she could let me go to such a fate, that she could think Charley thoughtful? Our recent troubles must have hurt her far more than I had suspected.
"Well, if you're going to act like that, maybe I will go away. I was thinking that if I did, Charley would take it out on you, but right now I don't really care."
"Penny," Charley interrupted, "if you run off, I will take it out on them. And I'll follow you wherever you go, so everyone will always know. The only way to keep your secrets is to come with me."
The bastard was actually smiling. He was enjoying watching us squirm beneath his goading control. Suddenly I saw what it was that made him what he was. He craved power, craved it as other men did drink, and when he had it, he wielded it with vast delight, using it to make himself feel big, greater than the people who became his victims.
I didn't want to see my parents suffer, any more than I wanted to suffer myself. I couldn't desert them, and open myself to a retribution of the most lasting, vicious sort I could imagine. Nevertheless, I didn't have to submit happily. I had to capitulate, but I did it sullenly.
"All right. I'll go. I don't want to stay where I'm not welcome anyway. And anyhow, I'm not going to be happy again till Rod's out of jail. I can be miserable anywhere."
Carrie's paradoxically soft voice carried through the embarrassed silence. "You'll forget Rod, girl. He's just a puppy-love, just a high school infatuation. You'll forget him soon enough, with everything else you'll find with us." Charley smiled as she finished, but I, choked with the self-centered rage of frustration, couldn't speak. I could only shout, in the reverberating silence of my skull: how can that be? Rod was all the world to me. How could it possibly end? I wouldn't forget him,I vowed, I wouldn't. I would wait till we could both be free.
I got up then, without answering Carrie's implicit challenge, and, choking back the threatening tears, went to my room and dressed to go outside. I didn't want to see any more of them until I had to. I spent the day wandering around our land, revisiting the sites of past happy hours with my dear Rod, soothing my offended soul in the leafy shade of brook side trees, letting the feel of the earth we'd lain on soak into my flesh and strengthen my memories against the coming erosion so awfully promised.
When I returned, hungry from the hours alone, I found Charley and Carrie ready to leave. Mama had packed a few things for me and they were already in the car. They allowed me just enough time to eat and then hustled me off. No one wanted to prolong the ordeal.
As I got into the car, I noticed Bob's pitying look; he saw no happiness ahead for me. Sarah, too, seemed sorry. My mother wore a look of sad triumph, my father one of shame, while Jim licked his lips in mysterious anticipation and Carrie showed signs of unalloyed pleasure. Betsy and Charley weren't visible just then, but I was sure they didn't share my father's mood.
That very night I was put to use.
On the way to Bucksport, where Charley lived and tended the strands of his web, he'd told me that I was going to do everything they wanted. Everything. Housekeeping and cooking, bed-making and warming. "For both of us," Carrie had put in with a leer. The housekeeping I knew I wouldn't mind; I'd been taught well at home. But the rest of it? Well, my education was pretty complete, and though I didn't expect to enjoy it, I was sure I wouldn't be shocked by any of their demands.
Carrie's comment made me think that perhaps that scene with Sarah hadn't been so spontaneous as I had thought. Had she been told to join us, to steer things in the direction she had? It didn't really matter, but I was curious. I'd been used ever since Charley had first noticed me. The prospect of more of the same didn't bother me. I only hoped to keep myself occupied until Rod could return.
When we had arrived at their small house, they showed me the tiny guest room where I could sleep when I wasn't otherwise occupied and told me where things were for my household duties. Then Carrie, with Charley hovering in the background, smiled and mused aloud, "You know, I've always wanted a maid. Perhaps you'll do, Penny dear. Come on. And Charley, you can get lost. She's mine now."
It didn't sound very real, somehow, but when she beckoned peremptorily, I followed, thinking that her words sounded as if she had said them before. Maybe there had been other girls in my situation, girls that had gone on, been let go. The thought made me feel a little better; a despair I had hardly recognized lifted and left me a little hope.
She led me to her room and sat down at a vanity covered with small jars and bottles, the mirror surrounded by lights. The quilted plastic skirt on the table didn't match the flowery bedding and drapes, and neither matched the orange carpet. Pink, orange, white, all engulfing the red and green shine of the modern painted furniture.
"Penny, take my hair down." It wasn't very long, but she had contrived to get it up just enough to say that.
"Unfasten my dress, dear, and take it off." I did, peeling the fabric from her pasty skin.
"Come on now. Don't stop there. A maid has to do the whole job." Her voice was coy, and, grimly, I set my teeth, unfastened her bra, let it fall down the flabby arms, struggled to remove the girdle, stockings, panties. She cooperated with my efforts only just enough, so that, to take advantage of the slight clearance she allowed me between her bottom and the seat, I had to press myself closely to her, breathing the sweaty musk of her body, suppressing the impulse to recoil from her clammy skin.
When I was done and standing back, holding her clothes as I thought a good maid should, she rose and turned, smoothing her hands down her sides. "Aren't I lovely, honey? This is what the men like, not you skinny things. All the great painters, like Reubens and Rembrandt, and lots more, used girls like me for their models. Voluptuous, that's me. Don't you think so?"
I looked at her doughy flesh, her hanging breasts, puffy eyes and lax mouth, and suddenly asked myself: is this why Charley is what he is, to feed this overweening vanity? Or is she like this because he feeds her aging hopes with the men he catches? She hadn't been pretty when I had first seen her, I remembered, but she was much worse now. At any rate, I thought it would do no harm to agree.
"Oh, yes. I can see why you have so many admirers."
I tried to keep my face straight, but I must have failed, for her face suddenly twisted in an ugly snarl and she cried, "No you don't. You think I'm ugly. Well, I don't care, you scrawny bitch. You'll do what I want anyway, or I'll see you and your parents ruined. Maybe I'll even do something about that boy friend of yours. Maybe I'll do that anyway, just to keep you from running off as soon as he gets out of jail."
Sudden consternation flowed over my face, and she laughed. "Or maybe that's a better threat to keep you in line. Charley's got contacts." Her breasts rose slightly as the flesh firmed and the nipples stiffened. "He can see to it that he never gets paroled. He could even arrange to have him die there."
"You wouldn't!" I gasped. This was too horrible. How could I live if that were to happen? The only hope I had to stay sane in their clutches was the hope that Rod would someday be free and we could break loose together.
"Oh, wouldn't I? But if you behave yourself and do what you're told, maybe we'll leave him alone." She was gloating, enjoying my anxious confusion, my trembling fear. She wanted me to break, to cry, to have hysterics. It would amuse her!
When she saw that despite everything I was holding back the tears, she snapped, "You can hang up my clothes now. And get undressed yourself. I want you beside me tonight."
I bowed my head and went to do her bidding.
I soon stood downcast before her, blushing beneath her critical gaze. She nodded once, satisfied by my show of humility, and stretched herself out on the bed behind her, legs widely forked and head cradled in her hands. "Well, don't just stand there! I want to come before I go to sleep. You do know how, don't you?"
I nodded quickly, afraid to anger her, and stepped forward to kneel between her legs, my arms folded against my breasts, gazing dumbly into her suddenly eager face.
"Well? Kiss me. There!" She pointed imperiously.
As I bowed my head to the unsavory meal, I saw her hands cup her breasts, starting to massage them as my tongue dipped reluctantly into the dryness of her flesh.
My moist attentions, however, soon brought about a rich flow of acrid juices, glutinous and slippery.
"That's it! Harder!" My tongue probed deeply, swept back and around to meet and lave her clitoris. "Oh! More! Suck it!" I did. "Harder!" I did, and raised her to such a pitch that I nearly suffocated from the shackling grip of her hand and the imprisoning pressure of her skull-cracking thighs.
I freed myself with one judicious nip, breathed deeply, and returned to the task at her outraged command. I applied every lascivious caress I'd learned so recently from Sarah, guiding my choices by her moans and cries. When my tongue drilled into her, to urge her piercingly on to fulfillment, she shuddered in delight, and I had a sudden inspiration.
Briefly, I withdrew to catch my breath, but soon dove into her again. I affixed my mouth to her slimy gash, my nose against her stiffened bud, and abruptly blew, inflating her to the limits of her ballooning cavity, while shaking my head so that my nose, as if it were strumming the strings of a guitar, vibrated across that sensitive overhanging protrusion.
She went rigid in response, moaned once, and screamed aloud in sudden ecstasy, and then went limp as satiation struck her. I rose then from my cramped position, and, as I was slowly slipping from the bed, she murmured, "Don't go, Penny. Sleep beside me tonight. Ahh, you're the best girl I've ever had. That last trick was really something. I hope you never forget it." Her eyes stayed closed, and soon after I lay down beside her she began to snore. I had no intention of forgetting that happy inspiration. Maybe, if she didn't get accustomed to it, it would shorten my labors, free me from some of her demands.
For most of the time I spent in their house, Charley wasn't very happy. Carrie was so enchanted with my exotic talent that she kept me with her nearly every night; he was powerless against his wife. He had to content himself with forbidding me to wear underwear and catching me whenever he could.
For weeks I was apprehensive, dreading the moments when he would find me bent over my work, washing, scrubbing, waxing, and seize me, his rigid member prodding my sensitive core. I had to submit, and in time I actually came to relish his attentions, for Carrie never reciprocated my labors, and I became extremely horny. Charley, unpleasant and grasping though he might be, was the only relief to be had.
Eventually my body learned, and as I would bend to my chores the carnal juices would flow to make his sudden penetrations easier, penetrations heralded only by the sudden onslaught bearing me to the floor.
He was always sudden, often brutal, but sometimes playful; like a little boy playing round the supermarket doors, he would dash in at the entrance only long enough to make ready for the exit. And other times he would call upon that skill that had first impressed him, and I would find my mouth flooded with his salty slime.
This arrangement continued for about two months, until Carrie began to show some signs of boredom. She had become used to my few tricks, and I had no one to teach me more. Perhaps, if she had made our affair more mutual, I might have lasted longer with her, but she didn't want to demean herself by removing that distinction between mistress and slave. I was really afraid when I realized that she was wanting me less often, for I feared that when she was done with me I would be cast aside and exposed, together with my parents, to the glares of the waiting critics.
I needn't have feared, though. As her demands lessened, Charley's increased, and she let him take me to his bed.
The first whole night with him was an ordeal. All that he had done to me before, he did again, with time his ally now. The next day I could hardly move, but somehow I managed.
Later nights were less demanding. The spice of secrecy was gone and he soon exhausted the novelties of my body. He rarely wanted more than one style of sexual acrobatics in a night, though his imagination still soared, or rather, plunged.