Chapter 10

But Charley, too, grew used to me, bored with me, and one night in January he proposed a small party. I learned of it when I overheard him inviting Jim to come over for the night, tempting him with promises of wild debauchery. I didn't think the promises were necessary. I remembered Jim's expression the day I had left home, and thought he must have been waiting for such an invitation.

I didn't know what to expect. Charley had laughingly excluded Sarah from the invitation and his look of gleeful anticipation as he fed me drinks while we waited for Jim made me tremble with fear. Two men, and me, for Carrie showed no sign of wanting to take part. She sat aloof, matching me drink for drink, while Charley was carefully restricting himself. Two men, I thought, could only do to me what they had done before. It wouldn't be new, though I wouldn't like it. I held to that thought, and refused to see that Charley's eyes saw something new, something to excite him as I had when I had first come to his house.

Carrie stayed aloof when Jim arrived. The rest of us undressed, though I had to be told, but she remained clothed, staring at us over her drink.

When Charley had made fresh drinks, Jim was quick to seize a glass and cast his lecherous eye over my bare body, loitering on my hairy mound the most, rising to my swelling breasts, whose rosy tips were withered, shrunken, in foreboding, finally staring me boldly, appraisingly, in the face. But Charley stopped him with an upraised hand when he reached out to pull me close.

"What the hell's the matter with you, Charley? Isn't this going to be that kind of a party? It's sure starting off like one." He was indignant.

"Just never you mind, Jim boy. I'm running this. You can wait till the time's right." He turned to me, beckoned. "We're going to have us a private little orgy here, Penny. Just like the ones your Papa used to throw." His grin was grim with unintentional irony. "You're going to make Jim and me real happy, aren't you?"

"Oh." Understanding struck Jim, though not me. "You mean...."

"Yeah. Now come here, Penny. You can start by sucking me off. Then him."

I glared. I didn't want this kind of a scene; I didn't want to be used, like some kind of mechanical thing. It may have been all I'd ever seen, except with Rod, but it seemed more repulsive now.

"You know, Carrie, I think she's going to be uncooperative again. She's got that surly, stubborn look. And I've had about as much of that as I want. Why don't you go get the whips?"

"Sure, honey. I've been wanting to use them for quite a while now. She has been getting pretty uppity." Her gruesome smile sent a sudden shudder up my back. "We're not good enough for her, I guess."

As she left the room and I realized that they meant this, I gasped. "You can't do this! You can't!"

"Oh, yes we can," answered Charley. Jim stood to one side, sipping his drink, an evil pleasure radiating from every smirking pore of his face. "We will, too, if you don't cooperate."

He seemed in deadly earnest. "I'll cooperate. I'll do it!" I rushed forward and fell on my knees before him, his body suddenly tall above me, legs spread. I took his rigid organ in my mouth, frantically working at it. I squeezed it with my palms, massaged it with my lips, strained with every fiber of my being to show my change of heart. How I dreaded the thought of a whip!

A drop of moisture from his glass struck my neck, and his prick began to pulse, but even as his muscles clenched and his hips surged, pounding the meaty pillar against my throat while I drew on him with ever greater energy, I heard Carrie returning.

"It's about time. Give her a lick. She changed her mind, but she's not convinced enough. I want her real compliant." I spun, wide-eyed, to see her standing in the doorway with several long thin things, rather like riding crops, in her hand. They looked innocuous.

"Go on, Carrie. She didn't finish me."

I heard the first lash whistle invisibly through the air, and when I felt its stinging touch I leaped, screaming, to my feet.

"Hey, that was cute! Give me one of those, too. I want to see her do it again." The sudden painful caress of Jim's whip made me scream again, but, as Charley joined their sport, I could no longer tell whose lash was biting in.

Three dancing tips stung and burned my flesh, my back, my thighs, my breasts, the very core of my tender womanhood, doubled me over with excruciating pain, straightened me up again with a goosing sting. I lurched across the room, impelled by sudden agonies, brought back to the center of their demonic group again and again, guided by those deadly whips.

I soon found myself weaving, fatigued and blind with fiery pain, before Jim. "Get down!" I heard a voice cry out, and I fell to the floor. A lash touched the back of my head, and I rose to meet his one-eyed snake. I knew what they wanted, but I wasn't allowed to finish, for the spur of that lash spun me around once more and drove me to kneel at Charley's groin. I worked at him a moment, while he cried joyously, "Join us, Carrie! This is fun! Take off your clothes and take a turn. We'll drive her to you."

All too soon the lashes fell again and urged me on to apply my weary tongue and lips to her stinking gash. She moaned and ground against me, but again the whips fell, driving me around and around that small circle. They all came, again and yet again, until their juices overflowed my chin and dribbled down to stain the carpet. At last it ended, when I fell exhausted to the floor.

When they found the whips could not rouse me, they too rested, but only till they could catch their breaths. Then Charley, still rigid from his whipped-up excitement, rose and hauled me to my feet. My breath had returned, but every movement roused the pains of a thousand cuts and bruises.

"Here, Jim. Hold her up. We'll show her something now." He lay down at my feet and called to Carrie, gazing lustfully at me the while. "Hey, sweetheart, guide me in." She held him stiffly upright while Jim lowered me to deep impalement. I slumped down upon him at first, but a cut of Carrie's whip soon roused me enough to support my own weight, my breasts, streaked with the marks of the whips, dangling over his face.

He paused briefly to nurse on my bloody nipples, then spoke again. "We're going to show you something special, Penny dear. It wasn't so hot the last time wc tried this."

Jim, flushed with impatient passion, commented darkly, "Yeah, you were too drunk then." That sparked my memory; now I knew what they intended, and I knew, too, that Jim was right. I had had as much to drink that first time as now, but, older, my tolerance was greater, and their whips had churned my blood to whirling action despite the depressing effect of the alcohol.

Charley was impatient, though, and would not let me remember all the details of the past or prepare myself for the coming ordeal. His throbbing pillar lodged within me seemed to lift me with its urgent pulse as he tugged my shoulders down to lift my ass. "Right up her, Jim. Now, both at once."

"No!" I groaned at the first bulging pressure on my tight asshole. "No!" But he came on. I felt the separating membrane squeezed and stretched by the double engorgement. They began to move, and I moaned and cried, feeling that I would surely burst under the awful pressure. It hurt, but I dared not struggle. If I tried to escape, God only knows what might have happened to me next.

Seeing that I did not respond, but lay like a piece of liver on a two-pronged fork, Carrie began to wield her lash. I lurched and wailed, but began to heave my bottom in time with the thrusting movements within me, even as I noticed that I was not the only object of her attentions. The men, too, began to move with greater violence as her whip touched them.

I was approaching that frantic summit, that crest of desire, that had till now marked only my unions with Rod. This novel act was burning my nerves into joyously surrendering spasms. I screamed in culminating joy, but at the same time was inundated by a sense of shame that such people could force such a mighty response from me. I felt disloyal to my dear lost Rod. I felt that I had disgraced us both, and my feelings drove the joy from my mind.

Two gushing fountains bloated my bowels as I collapsed, beyond response to word or whip. Vaguely, I sensed the sucking pull as they withdrew and rolled me to the floor beside them, where they lay gasping like pale beached fish.

Carrie stood above us, legs apart, whip hanging idle in her hand, flushed and panting, eyes glowing with desire. But when she saw our helpless postures, she cried out in despair and, inserting the whip handle into herself, began to work for her own relief.

That was the end of the evening's entertainment. My vulnerable body had sated three awful lusts and had hopefully dulled their appetites for a while. I didn't want to have to go through that again, ever.

While they lay sprawled in satisfied contentment, moist and withered, and nearing sleep, I crawled away, groaning in pain beyond belief, and reached my bed.

When I went downstairs the next morning, Carrie was waiting for me, whip in hand. Now that she had introduced me to it, she must have wanted to enjoy herself. I'll never forget the look of unholy glee upon her face when I first saw her swing it, and again when I came upon her in the kitchen.

I limped toward her, grimacing with the pains of the night before. She only smiled.

"None of that, Penny! You can't expect to get out of your chores that way. If I catch you shirking, you'll taste this lash again. Get busy! There's a lot of cleaning up to do after that party." She lashed out in emphasis, stinging my belly with awful pain.

She did let me eat some breakfast, but then she drove me from chore to chore. I staggered from table to sink, from kitchen to living room, gathered up rubbish, spilled half in unconscious protest, and felt her lash again. I couldn't move fast enough to suit her after that. Always that terrible thong drove me on, while she found chores for me, work that would usually only be done once a year.

The day ended only after I'd been broken to tears and my dress nearly torn from my body. Racked with pain on pain, at last I refused to move. My sobs and cries brought Charley to the room, I hoped to halt my tortures, but he only watched while Carrie stung the cloth from my back.

I cried and screamed, writhing in agony before them, and at last he stepped forward to rip the remaining rags away. I was almost grateful for the sudden breath of cool air that soothed my broken skin, but that feeling ended when he dropped his drawers and seized me, flattened me beneath his weight, and plunged his tool to the hilt. I screamed and wailed again, but his cruel assault took no notice of the raw bruises left from the night before. His abrupt invasion brought on a fresh flood of pain, and I fought to free my loins from his tyranny.

He quickly came. My writhing struggles as I sought escape only hastened his triumph. He let my frantic movements pump him dry, then hurled me from him, rose, and said, in apparent disgust, "Leave her be, Carrie. She'll never go for this. We'll just have to get rid of her, too."

Rigid panic struck. Suddenly, I couldn't move, blind with fear of what he might mean. Would they take me for a "ride", as I had read of gangsters doing? No! They couldn't! From what he'd said there had been others, and it would be impossible to kill so many. At least, I hoped so. No, they could only throw me out, tell the world my, and my parents', secrets, let me suffer the cruelty of the world.

I lay there, paralyzed with uncertainty. What had he meant? I couldn't think, but after they left the room I calmed down. Then I could tend my new wounds, and think that the future could be no worse, and even its horrors could only last till Rod returned. Then we could flee! But, I thought, how much happier we both might have been if only I had trusted him before.

When dinner came, I sat and hung my head, avoiding their eyes, hardly daring to enjoy the food. I couldn't even taste what I put in my mouth, so great was my dread. Eventually he spoke. I hoped that he would tell me the answer to my fate, but I feared the worst.

"Penny, you just won't do. We've kept you with us much too long; we're all getting just a bit bored. Maybe we should have shown you the whips earlier. Maybe then you'd have been able to play the masochist to our sadists. Well, it didn't work that way, and I fear it never will." I damned his pompous words. Would he never get to the point? I knew their boredom! What would they do?

"Every once in a while we find someone who can, but they never last very long. They always have to leave eventually. And now you, too." He said this mournfully, apparently not noticing my face, contorted with dreadful apprehension. I think he regretted only having to find another candidate.

"I'll miss you." Would he get to the point? No, he only opened his mouth to take in more food, chewing thoughtfully for some moments. I didn't say anything; I couldn't trust my voice not to scream with the suspense.

"Yes, I'll miss you. But I'll still see you occasionally. I'm going to put you in a place I own up near Millinocket. It's a sort of year-round resort, but only for my friends. I send people like you there to work and take care of the guys I bring up there for parties and such. You'll be all right."

I finished the meal in silence, though my heart leaped against my ribs with relief. My fears had been groundless! I supposed this place must be some sort of a private whorehouse and I would be an inmate, but still, the relief from the fear of exposure or death was heady.

I wrote a letter, after dinner, to my parents. All I could bear to say was that Charley was sending me away to a place he had near Millinocket. I couldn't tell them more. I didn't want them to worry and grieve for me, since I was going partly for them.

The decision was made and I was left to myself-no chores, no whips, no demands of any kind. They had forgotten my existence as soon as they had resigned themselves to my unsuitability and I was able to rest for a week before I was taken away. The sores soon healed, and my spirits soared as the pain died away.

The time came, and Carrie stayed at home while he drove me north to his hideaway. Two hours on the road and little was said. Only rarely did he break the silence to point out some pretty view or famous site. Only once did he say anything more about our destination.

"You should like it up here, Penny. There are only a few others and there isn't much to do at all. I don't come up very often. Just about like at your house. Most of the time you'll be able to do whatever you want."

We were driving through a long flat area. The ground stretched away from the road in a sea of heath, cranberries, maybe a few blueberries, unbroken for miles except for an occasional low rise and clump of trees.

He noted my wondering look, and waved his hand. "You see all this? Ages ago it used to be a big lake, or maybe a piece of the sea, but now ... just like the bogs you can see all over the state. They've got a puddle in the middle, and moss, bushes, trees on the edge. They get like this after a while. The middle fills in, but all that moss still shakes when you step on it, till the water underneath goes away and you have a wet boggy place like this. This was all open water once. Look at it now."

Even he seemed sobered by the depressing lack of detail: no hills, no trees, and little traffic. It lacked all those things that are so common in the more populous parts of the state. Finally he sighed, breaking the spell that held us quiet, and waved his hand again. "It'll be thousands of years before anyone can grow anything but blueberries on this stuff. But you, well, you cooperate, do what you're told, and you'll be just fine. My manager will tell you just what the set-up is." He must not have wanted to be around when I found out just what I was being thrust into; he certainly didn't seem to want to tell me any more.

Wc reached the place, about five minutes the other side of the town-so close, and yet so far: the houses ended, leaving our goal isolated in a more hilly wilderness.

It was a large building, plainly built as a hotel, a bit rundown, with large grounds enclosed by a high stone wall. He drove me once around the drive, showing me the small groves of trees, bushes, lawns, the small brook with its many pools, one of them large enough to have been given a sandy beach.

In one corner of the grounds I noticed a small cemetery. He noticed my glance, and commented, "We take care of our own here. We have a guy for an undertaker and there's a doctor, too, of sorts. We don't need to bother the town." His smile was sly, but his voice was soft, concerned, though why I didn't know. I couldn't have escaped. My last chance to resist had vanished, really, when we had left Millinocket behind.

An ominous shudder passed down my back, and he hastened to reassure me. "We don't have many deaths here. It may look like a lot of headstones, but there was an old family plot here when this building was first put up. Nobody disturbed it, and we didn't either. And of course, we only bury natural deaths here." That didn't soothe me. With his own doctor, he could bury anyone and call it natural.

We stopped in front of the building and got out. He led me in, one hand on my elbow, and as we stepped through the door a portly little fellow rushed up to us from a door to one side. He reminded me of nothing so much as an animated bowling ball.

"Ah, Mr. Mathews, have you come to inspect? Everything's in perfect order. We're so happy to see you!"

"No, Oscar, no. I'll only be here for a minute. Here's a girl to add to the staff. Penny, this is Oscar Frimble. Oscar, Penny Pandergast. You take good care of her and see that she gets settled in all right. I've already shown her the grounds."

"Yes sir! She'll know the whole score an hour from now. But really, can't you stay, at least for a drink?"

"No, I've got to get back to town right away. There's a deal on tonight. Can't miss that, you know." They both laughed.

Charley didn't look very comfortable around this fellow. His words were curt and snappish, and his eyes avoided him. Oscar looked a little effeminate to me, but I didn't find him offensive. I had grown up too isolated, had seen too little of the infinite variety of mankind, and whenever I met a new kind of man, I was too curious to be hostile or afraid.

"You take care of Penny. Don't worry yourself about me or my affairs. Her suitcase is in the car. Get it!" Hardly had he snapped out that last word than Oscar was running. He was back with my suitcase more rapidly than I would have thought possible, and as he came through the door Charley turned and, with a curt nod of his head, left. I watched his car purr down the drive almost with regret. At least I'd known him.

But now it was time to face the unknown.

"That bastard!" I heard Oscar mutter beside me. "You're not here on your own hook, are you? No, you wouldn't be. He owns us all. I'd rather be in jail," he added morosely.

"What do you mean?"

"You wouldn't know it, but I used to be his right hand man. Then he decided he didn't need me; maybe he thought I knew too much, or maybe he just decided he didn't like me, and he put me here. Said if I didn't go along he'd have me arrested for being queer. That hadn't made any difference before, but I guess he thought it would make me a safe man to run things here. Except it's not much of a job. I can't leave, and I don't have any friends here. All he ever sends here are girls."

"That's too bad, but if jail would be better, why don't you just run away and let him turn you in? At least jail's not permanent." I was sympathetic, but I didn't think I was offering any new advice. He must have thought it all out himself.

"Sure. It isn't that easy for him to get me into jail for being queer. But there are other things. Or he could set up some kind of a frame for me. But if he thought I had the nerve to do that, he'd have me taken care of, but good. He likes to run things by keeping people scared, though. He doesn't have to make things any more final very often. Though he's not above it if he has to, you understand. But come on, I've got to tell you how things work here." He led the way to a lounge where he put down my bag and invited me to take a seat.

"Might as well be comfortable. This will take a little while. Would you like a drink?" I nodded, and he went to a cupboard bar to get bottles and glasses.

"Sherry all right? A little Scotch for me. Here. Cheers." He took a seat across the room from me, raised his glass and took a hearty swallow. Maybe he was queer; he paid me less attention than I was used to from a man.

"There are fifteen girls here, and one man-me. You'll make the sixteenth and you'll share a room with one of the others. I'll pick one and you can change later if you want to.

"Usually we're left pretty much to ourselves, though no boy friends are allowed and you can't go anywhere. You're stuck here for as long as Charley Mathews wants, and that can be a long time. You girls take turns on cooking, cleaning up, housework, and so on. You even do the yard work. It's not too bad, though. There are plenty of appliances and power tools." He went on in this vein for quite a while, though he didn't mention my purpose at all. Finally he called in the other girls, introduced me around, and settled on an attractive redhead named Natalie as my initial roommate.

We talked for a little while over drinks, covering the generalities, getting acquainted. I was beginning to wonder when someone would get to the point when Oscar rose and said, "Natalie, why don't you show Penny where your room is and let her get settled in. Rose and Marie should have dinner ready in about an hour. Will that give you enough time, Penny?"

"I think so. I would like to get cleaned up a bit."

"Come on then, Penny," said Natalie as she got to her feet. "Our rooms are really kinda nice. You'll like them." I picked up my bag and followed her out of the room and up the stairs.

The rooms were nice, I found when we entered the one I was to share with her. A small living room greeted us as we went through the unlocked door, and off it lay a bathroom and a large bedroom with two double beds, side by side. There was plenty of closet space, and the living room had a small bar, fairly well stocked. There were also a TV set and a few books that must have belonged to Natalie. She pointed out an empty bureau and closet into which I could put my meager belongings.

When I entered the bathroom to wash off the road dust, she crossed her arms beneath her breasts, raising their smooth weight and stretching the cloth over the tips so I could see she wore no bra, and leaned against the door frame. "You can use my stuff if you want. We can get some for you later. Oscar keeps a lot of things in the storeroom."

"Thanks. I will. This is a pretty nice set-up, really. Better than I expected. It looks like they went to a lot of trouble with it."

"Yeah. When Charley bought it, it was an old hotel. He had a few walls torn out and fixed it up. Money doesn't matter much to him." She shrugged, one conical breast sliding with the movement under the material of her blouse, the nipple stiffening from the friction.

Dryly, I muttered, "Yes, I know. I've never really known how he got so much though."

"Oh, he's got a few rackets, but most of his money comes from loan sharking. Almost everyone manages to pay him back somehow, but if you can't pay, and you're young, pretty, and female, you wind up here. That's how everyone gets here." She didn't know as much as I did.

"Except Oscar."

"Yeah, him."

"Well, I don't owe him any money. My parents do. He got them into orgies first, and then he got me. He made me come here or he'd tell the world about everything."

"Orgies, huh? You should be all right here then. Nothing new. Some girls almost crack up the first time he and his buddies come around." She seemed almost envious of me. It must have been rough on her.

"I've been thinking this was some kind of a private whorehouse or something, but nobody's been very specific."

"Well, kid," she must have been all of 24, "it's kind of a funny system. It's like a big game that everybody takes real serious. Most of the time we're quiet and peaceful here, like a convalescent home, but when he and his buddies come, it's all different. Like, nothing's free any more. Every girl gets assigned to one man for as long as he's here. Charley usually brings his wife and keeps her for himself. Whenever the man wants something he has to pay for it, with your sweet bod. One of the guys will have the food concession, another one the liquor, and so on. Charley's the landlord."

She paused for a moment to light a cigarette and find an ashtray. "The funny thing's how they don't use money. A guy has to pay for anything, and he turns his girl over. There's a set scale of things she has to do to pay different prices, though nobody pays much attention to it."

"I guess a girl just doesn't have any say at all around here." I had been busy while we were talking and had just finished in the bathroom. She followed me into the bedroom and watched as I undressed. "What kind of things do you have to do?"

"Oh, the little things are just a kiss, and the biggest are a screw, but the position varies. The hardest ones are worth the most. A meal's a screw, or whatever, but the guy can't collect from everyone. He gets his choice.

"The rent's the same way, too. Charley just gets what he wants. That's the price. The everyday stuff's not too bad. It's when they get a poker game going that it's rough on a girl, especially if her guy's a loser. That's about the only place they pay attention to that scale."

I wanted to change before dinner, and was down to my bra and panties when she said, "That looks like a good idea. I think I'll change too."

She started stripping, but when I was naked she paused and looked at me, her eyes glowing slightly with sudden interest. "Hey, you're real pretty! They're all going to want you." She went back to her own undressing, straightening only when she was done.

She was a natural redhead. Every hair of her body was a light russet, giving her form lovely highlights when the light, as now, was behind her. Her breasts were full, standing out in smooth plump cones supporting elongated nipples, stiff now, jutting like the spires on twin cathedral domes.

She responded to my searching gaze by reaching out and cupping one of my breasts, softly squeezing it, thumbing the nipple as she looked inquiringly into my eyes. She stepped closer, wrapped a hand around her own breast and rubbed its turgid nipple against mine. This novel stimulus thrilled me strangely. My mouth went lax; my knees began to melt. She saved me from collapse only by stepping back, smiling in a strangely happy way, and saying, "I think we're going to be real good roommates, don't you? We'd better hurry. Dinner's almost ready, I'm sure." Businesslike again, she turned to dress.

I could only nod. Good roommates? If the way I felt was any indication, we'd be the best. But how could I react like this to a complete stranger, and a woman? Carrie had almost turned my stomach, had soured the feelings aroused by Sarah. But Natalie promised to redeem them, and I found myself wanting her as badly as I'd ever wanted any man besides Rod.

We both dressed quickly and went downstairs. The meal itself proved to be very simple, almost spartan, but well cooked. Apparently the best was saved for festive occasions, perhaps as one of the few bright spots in our lives. Just meat, potatoes, and apple pie, with water and coffee, but it quelled my hunger.

Throughout that meal I was the only topic of conversation. Newcomers weren't frequent, I was sure, and a new face must have been welcome. Everyone wanted to know my history, what I thought of Charley, how I'd been caught, and so on. I let them know most of what they wanted, leaving out only my early education and Rod.

It was satisfying to talk about myself, and their questions made me think that I might be happy there, or at least, as happy as one could be in that kind of a situation. Never before had I encountered such interest in myself as a person, except, of course, with Rod, and I was flattered, giddy with their attentions.

After dinner most of us gathered in the lounge, where Oscar served drinks as he had before. From the way these were received I guessed that he was celebrating the new arrival, and his opening toast confirmed my thought. Perhaps he felt obliged to ration the alcohol, though from my observations, I knew there was plenty. I could see that alcoholism might be a welcome retreat from a life like this.

I found out later that drinks were limited. The bars couldn't be restocked at will, only just before a party, and then the men would drink most of the liquor. Oscar did, though, manage things well; he kept the girls sober and fairly happy, even under their peculiar feast-and-famine sexual regime.

It may have been the periodic orgies that kept them sane. I noticed that nearly everyone liked them to some extent, though a few, like me, longed for freedom. Natalie, who had first joined the group about six months before, was among the loudest complainers, but she also seemed to know how to enjoy the inevitable. Her tales showed she didn't really care who the man might be; she relished the sex. Her main complaint was the isolation and regimentation; avidly she hungered for freedom, but she would not leave. She feared the punishment that would surely come, but she feared the loss of a regular supply of men more.

They were all looking forward to the next orgy, though, and I could hear occasional scraps of talk about who they'd be paired with, would there be any new men, what would they be like, and so forth. I didn't relish the prospect myself. It seemed all too likely that Charley's friends would all be like Jim, and I didn't want to be reminded of him.

Not long after I'd showered and gotten into bed, Natalie came in. She turned on a small light, so as not to disturb me, and undressed. When she came out of the bathroom, she walked gracefully over to me, a slight frown adorning her face. "You're in my bed, Penny."

I sat up abruptly, holding the sheet automatically to my chest, and looked up to say apologetically, "I didn't know. It had clean sheets and the end table's between them, so I really couldn't tell."

"Oh, it doesn't matter really. No, don't get up. You don't have to change. It's a lot better to sleep beside someone anyway."

"Oh, no, I'll move." I began to slide toward the edge of the bed, but she forestalled me with a restraining hand.

"No, no. It's all right. I like company." Still holding me back, she pulled away the covers and slipped into the bed beside me. The warm length of her body felt good, and I hesitated before worming my way back to the other side of the mattress. She followed, though, and stayed pressed close against me.

Her arms went around me, held me close. She murmured, "It's a long time between men around here, honey. We have to make do, and this can be even better."

"No, Natalie, no. Let's just sleep. I don't like this." I was afraid of her, my only memories of such love being what they were. But she ignored my half-hearted plea. She bent her head to my breast, and I felt her plucking lips. "Don't worry, honey. I found out it doesn't have to be so bad, and so will you. Just relax."

Her lips settled more firmly to draw me in, pressed and pulled at my nipple. Her hand swept smoothly down my side, coursing gently over hip and mound, fingers tangling slowly in the thatch surrounding the sensitive lips of my pussy. Her finger dipped and found moisture, lingered to spread it over the tingling flesh. Her words, and now her touch, stilled my fears. My protests died unuttered in my throat, gave way only to a low moan of pleasure.

Her gentle hand and skillful lips stroked me up to rigid, throbbing rapture. I gripped her head and held it tightly to my bosom, softly screamed and fell limply apart while she prodded me to swift completion.

Afterward, I lay quietly enfolded in her arms, enjoying the playful touch of her lips on mine. Slowly I became aware of the soft curves impinging on me and reached out to stroke them in return. She did not protest. If I wished to return her favors, it was all right with her. Unlike Carrie, Natalie obviously believed in mutual loving. She knew the pleasures of giving as well as of receiving.

Her full breasts filled my palms, warming and soothing the hurts of the past as I cupped and stroked them, fingering the long nipples till they hardened and rose. My hands moved on, searching out the curly russet covering of her joy, and found the jack in her pulpit. I rolled it gently between my fingers, listened to her throaty moan. I kissed the softly vibrating column beneath her jaw, and shifted my position to nurse luxuriously on her swelling bounty. She responded with another moan, and her hands sought me, trailing lines of cool fire over my breasts, settling more intimately against me. Our fingers tangled as we tried to bring each other mutual happiness in this lonely house of quiet desperation.

Our lips met, and tongues entwined to aid our hands as we lifted each other to the heights of pleasure. Her fingers left my hungry, craving core and wrapped around my hips to turn me gently onto my back. She was mounted then like a man, but there was no insinuating pressure. I embraced her avidly, and she ground her loins against me. Our hairs matted together, but spread under the pressure till more sensitive surfaces could meet, to spread and merge, the frictions of our clitorises sending messages of excruciation to our brains. Only after we had loitered thus for minutes, bathing in pure sensation, and the edge had begun to fade, did she begin to move, gently, oscillating against my hips.

The sensation was tremendous. Our tongues darted back and forth faster and yet faster as we both neared the summit. Our hands mauled our breasts lovingly, adding what we could to our impetus. Her grinding pressures grew and speeded up. I surged beneath her weight, arched my back to increase the depth and breadth of our contact. We stiffened in each other's arms, soaring to the dazzling realm of sky-rocketing glory, crying out our satisfaction till the room echoed to our joy.

But even that was not the end.

Quietly, we rested, catching our panting breaths, feeling the slow return of desire. Our lazy cuddling and slow, sweet kissing ceased when she pulled away to kneel beside me. She rested there, weight upon her heels, and softly glided her hands along my skin in loving exploration. Her fingers molded every curve and swelling, fleshy hillock, dipped into every crevice. Languorously I stretched and writhed beneath her sensuous touch, reveling in the symphonic chords evoked from my every nerve.

Hair cascaded over my chest, its russet beauty hiding the curving charms so attentively adored, tickling with its many tendrils, as her lips swooped upon my breasts, to tweak and pull and suck, arousing their turgid yearning to an aching height. She pulled away and swept a rosy stroke from head to toe and back again, dipping to touch with lips and tongue wherever flesh could burn. I writhed and turned, roused to the brink of ecstasy by her skillful ways, stilling, crying, clutching, when her tongue dipped into my lubricous well to dally with the guardian of my womanhood.

My ecstatic twisting brought me soon between her legs, my face angled into her groin, its delectable odors tempting me to erotic madness. When her tongue first stabbed into me I tried to return the favor, but the position was too awkward. She knew what I was doing, though; she wasn't lost in the throes of her passion. She shifted till our mouths were both applied to the worship of our joys. Her smoothly silken thighs rubbed against my cheeks as we rolled about the bed, bringing even greater pleasure to me, and stirring the drilling, lapping motions of my tongue into a frenzy of loving activity; I drilled into the humid depths, stroked the velvet tissues of her pussy, found and nibbled, sucked and swirled, her clitoris, rigid with desire, aching for a crest. Her enjoyment fed my own, and as she began to groan and writhe out her pleasure in approaching orgasm, I found my own response to her ministrations increasing beyond anything I had ever thought possible.

Our pleasure ended, as it always must, in a mutual screaming convulsion that left us drained, exhausted. That final satiation left me depressed and sad that it had to end, for the orgiastic frenzy of our loving was such that I could have spent a lifetime screaming on the brink, mindlessly rigid in everlasting orgasm. Though the end was a mighty spasm of joy, a mighty cap for an evening of love, it was an end, and I wished for more, more of joy and happiness, without the weary sadness of the aftermath, even though it might come tenderly, as now, when she slowly crawled around till we could lie stretched out to fall asleep enfolded in warm comfort.

The months passed. The hazy months of autumn, the lonely, snowbound months of winter. Throughout them all Natalie and I softened our sorrows and warded off loneliness in each other's tender arms.

We weren't the only ones to turn to roommates for solace. There were frequent reshufflings of room assignments that must have been for the sake of changing partners. Only Oscar lived the lonely life of celibacy. I think that anyone would have gladly obliged him, if he had but asked, but being what he was he couldn't, and there were no other men.

I believed then, and I still do now, that Natalie and I were the most successful, least often sad. We became the best of roommates, solicitous, sharing, loving, but still I yearned for Rod. The dread memory of Carrie's voracity dimmed, and the quality of Sarah's introduction grew clearer, though I still didn't trust her.

I grew to know and love every red-haired inch of Natalie's luscious form. I adored the whole of it nearly nightly with lips and tongue, eyes and hands. In truth she seemed to feel much the same toward me, and often it would have been hard to tell who was adoring whom.

In spite of our growing, saving love, however, I never stopped wanting Rod and freedom. No other love can take the place of a free love, enjoyed in pride and independence. Too, he could satisfy me much more deeply.

The orgiastic visitations came infrequently; in all that expanse of dying and dead seasons there were only two, one in the fall, the other just after Christmas. Happily we welcomed the diversion, and happily we saw it end. The men that Charley brought were eager to take advantage of his lavish hospitality. Only here would they ever find, as I heard one quip, "bed and bawd." Like children set free in a candy store, their appetites were phenomenal. They tried to strip the shelving bare, sating themselves so one would think they would be utterly incapable for months to come.