Chapter 4
I rose to my feet and stood back while Charley buckled his belt.
"Don't worry, you guys. You'll all get a chance. I'll assign you each a girl. You can do whatever you want with 'em. There're a few concessions, too. How about you, Harry? You want one? I can give you the kitchen; every meal you get to collect from anybody you want. The girls do all the work. All you gotta do is collect."
Harry, self-important, balding, and portly, smoking a fat cigar, nodded eagerly, almost drooling.
"You can have the dining room, and the waitresses, Dick. You can collect after every meal. Jack, how about the housemaid section? Jeff, the bar." These three, with Harry, were the most important looking men in the room. They might have been Charley's chief lieutenants, or maybe people he owed favors to.
"Now there's just one other concession, and this one's not up for grabs. There's just one guy here can take care of it. If there's anyone here that doesn't know him, meet my bodyguard. Stand up and take a bow, Kurt. Kurt's a big boy, folks. I always give him the graveyard deal. Not much work to do, but watch out when he collects." He laughed, was answered by a few chuckles, throatily grim, from those who knew what he meant, a few low moans from the women.
Kurt was a big boy, enormous. My eyes widened when I saw the thick, long bulge that ran halfway to his knee. What an erection he would have, I marveled, though I doubted he could use it. It would be just too big. His beetled brow and slack jaw, his vacant gaze and slouching posture, showed the dimness of his mind. A hulking brute, fit only for carrying out the simplest of orders, for guarding his master.
"Let's see now. I still have to assign you all girls, don't I? I'll stick with Carrie myself. I'll be pretty busy just with the rent." He grinned at her, she shrugged and looked away.
It didn't take him long to make up his mind. Quickly, he called off the names, countering the few protests efficiently, till nearly every man there had, if not his favorite, at least one that satisfied him.
I was given to a grossly folded mass of flesh blessed with the name of Pig-eye. His eyes were almost hidden from sight in the crevices of his jowly face. His body was a mass of fat and flab; I wondered how he could walk. His legs were stubby pillars, his belly hung down to hide his crotch. I couldn't see how he could make love. Surely it would be impossible for him to get close enough to a girl. It would be difficult to satisfy him, I knew, but I was curious to see how he would propose to do it.
Natalie, my roommate, wound up with a fairly handsome fellow. He had a rather hard and ruthless look about him, but she didn't seem unhappy with him; she submitted to his exploring hands as soon as she was called. I felt a twinge of jealousy at the thought that some other would soon be enjoying the pleasures of her beautiful body.
When Charley finally paused, only Hank was still left out. Every other man in the room had a girl beside him or on his lap. He sat still, glaring, gripping his glass so the knuckles whitened from the pressure, as Charley carefully looked over the remaining girls, pointing to one of them at last, motioning her over toward Hank.
The style of his words didn't change, but the mirth left his voice. One could almost see black robes settle about his shoulders as he drew himself up to say, "You, Heloise. That's right. You haven't been a very good girl lately, have you? Well, perhaps that will be fixed soon. You take good care of Hank, hear. He hasn't been very good either. In fact, he's been real bad. You'd better hope he learns better."
She blanched and quailed at the thoughts he must have given her, but still she moved to Hank's side, afraid to disobey. Comfortingly, he put an arm around her, pulled her down onto his lap, and ceased his glaring momentarily to soundly kiss her. She calmed, but his tension showed in the tight grip he kept on her.
"Okay, girls, let's get on the ball. Dinner's supposed to be cooking, and I'm getting hungry. It'd better be ready soon. In the meantime, go get your party outfits on. If you haven't got any decent ones, get fresh ones from Oscar. He'll see to it. I don't want anything in the way when I'm after a fun time." He relaxed, now that the formalities were over, and called for his drink to be freshened as he sat down again.
We obeyed the wave of his hand, some of us heading for the kitchen to finish readying the meal, the rest of us to don the skimpy, almost transparent aprons we had to wear for his parties. They were the only things we could wear, covering us from our nipples to just above the crotch. The color and pattern varied slightly with the jobs we filled, gauzy black for the waitresses, white for the cooks. My own, since I had no real job to do that weekend, was a bright red panel in front, with nothing but the neck strap and the bow at the waist in back.
The meal was better than anything I had seen there before: shrimp cocktail, new potatoes, snow peas, baked Alaska, and the main event: venison chops, very much out of season and very fresh. Oscar must have found a poacher to provide it.
With all that was spread before us I felt a bit cheated. It was so good, so much better than our usual fare. This resort was certainly for Charley's benefit, and no one else's.
These thoughts, though, were quickly driven out of my head. Hardly had we sat down, each pair having to find first the name tag of the man, than Harry stood and announced his intention of collecting his first payment right away. Charley gave him the go-ahead and he looked the room over carefully for a moment before seizing Natalie by the arm, declaring he liked redheads best. Her partner didn't like it, but could only shrug. You couldn't argue; you had to pay for things with your girl's body, and if it was usually only the junior members of the gang who did the paying, well, the boss ran things his way.
Hastily sweeping aside the dishes, Harry lifted her onto the end of a table and exposed his thick pillar. Those seated near drew back their chairs and settled down to enjoy the show as he drove his chest between her knees, forcing them up to her chin so that her thighs were spread and the rosy nest gaped wide.
He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her to him, forcing her against his swollen spearhead, impaling her so deeply I could almost hear the stretching tissues creak with the strain. Once he was well seated he rocked forward, putting all her weight on the table, surging back and forth, plunging and withdrawing. The sounds of their moist slappings and suckings reverberated through the room as he pounded on, racing toward the finish.
Natalie had seemed to submit out of patience at first, as though she were only willing to put up with him because of the pressure on her, but as he quickened the tempo her face became transfigured. Her mouth gaped wide, she began to pant, her brow contorted. I could see her thighs and buttocks begin to clench and squeeze spasmodically as his carnal motions heated her senses. As the end approached she began to writhe actively, throwing the tablecloth askew. Her knees locked around his neck, her nails clawed down his back, a climactic wail rent the air. He tensed and thrust, holding in the depths while his satisfaction spurted forth. Her muscles visibly pulsed as she drew out every drop, leaving him spent, drained.
The same release could be seen in the spectators as well. The intensity of their stares, the tension of their postures, the firm set of their mouths as they sighed in unison and licked their lips, all relaxed with the waning of Harry's rigor.
Limply, he withdrew, leaving her gasping wearily where she lay, her apron rumpled and awry, damp with their mingled sweat. The juices of their passion bedewed her hair for all to see, trickled from her cleft, following the downward leading groove like water from a hillside spring. He turned, panting, dangling, and approached another, demanding that she revive him. She tried, but all to no avail; with lips and fingers she fondled and tickled, but he remained quiescent. Natalie's skills were too much for her.
Harry turned to yet another, and another, and then two at once, but though they tried every trick they or he knew, it was still no use. From his face, their attentions pleased him, but his pleasure had to end there. Natalie had wrought too well.
Only when he gave up and stalked in defeat to his seat was the signal given to bring in the food. It was good, though too soon gone.
We dallied over the meal, talking quietly, though we girls had to be content mainly with listening to the men. Their conversation was dominated by talk of the weekend and what they would do during it. Most of the time was left open, the only constraint being Charley's custom of evening poker and the short business session the next day. They found their coarse jokes about poker bets under Charley's "system of bawder" very amusing, though I, and many of the other girls, I'm sure, thought it deserved more tears than chuckles. Again I would be used, and this time, probably, to the point of pain.
When the jokes reached their peak, or, rather, depths, Pig-eye patted my knee reassuringly. I wasn't sure what he might mean. Was he promising worse or better than the jokes implied? His face was hard to read, hidden as it was in the residue of many meals like this one, but I took heart when I realized what I had missed in my self-absorption. He, alone among them all, had told no jokes, and laughed only politely, if at all.
Over our dessert and coffee, Dick, master of waitresses, selected his payment and collected it on the floor. He didn't use a position as originally contorted as Harry's, though he still had his choicelush Mona, a sturdy, big-boned girl with some Indian blood, judging from her high cheekbones and straight black hair. Her pleasure was not as great as Natalie's. She put none of herself into the act, but complied with his demands in a very workmanlike manner. Plainly, he had no more effect on her than a tickling feather, arousing only reaction, never passion. I wondered then how a man could enjoy such an automaton; even though she tried to feign the passion, it must have been obvious that she wasn't enjoying him.
When he withdrew, I knew I was right. He stood above her, scowling down. "Bah! A doll's as good as you! Ptaah!" He spat and turned away.
She blanched in horror when she realized what she'd done, and only recovered slightly when Charley winked at her. I thought I could see why. In a house like ours, a girl would have to please, and if she didn't, whether couldn't or wouldn't, she might be in danger. I didn't know how a girl might be removed, but I could fear the worst. Was this Heloise's sin? I might never know.
With dinner over, a few of the men took their girls away to pursue their pleasures privately, while the rest adjourned to the lounge and got out the cards.
The table was large enough to hold us all, each girl sitting beside her man, just as at dinner. Some of the men started to fondle their girls, but Pig-eye, and a few others, sent theirs after drinks. We obeyed quickly, so that when Charley sat down we were all ready.
As he took his seat, he cast an eye over the uninhibited groping surrounding him. "All right! Cut out the fooling around, you guys. We're here to play poker."
"Yeah," put in one fellow, relinquishing his girl to her seat. "How does this bawder stuff work for poker, anyhow?"
"It's easy enough. You use these chips, see?" He spoke sarcastically, earning a general titter. "White, red, and blue-one, five, and ten. You win less than a hundred, you get that many seconds of mouth from any girl you like. A loser's girl, that is. You win over a hundred, then divide it by ten and you get that many seconds of cunt. You can take it a hand at a time or all at once at the end of the game. Big winner gets to ram it up an ass, if he wants to. Hah! Now come on, let's get down to business. We've got to play strip till everyone's naked, the girls too. Then we can go for real." He laughed again, and quickly shuffled and dealt, pausing only to have the cards cut.
It didn't take us long to be stripped. They seemed to be trying to lose, to get to the sexy stakes they wanted to play for. By the time their first drinks were gone, they were ready. No rest for the weary, but back to our singular chores.
I was lucky to have Pig-eye. He must have had enormous card sense, for he seemed able to win almost whenever he wished. We were the first to be stripped, and his smile seemed to say it was deliberate. I was shocked to see what he looked like without his concealing coverings. His face told the world that his bulk was formed in rolls of flesh, but what rolls! You might be able to get something a little bit like him if you molded a man out of clay and then squashed it down to half its height, or perhaps if you took a stack of blankets and folded them sloppily into a squat, manlike shape.
His penis was almost invisible, hidden in the rolls of fat. The little I could see made me wonder how he could ever use it. It was buried so deep that I felt sure I would have trouble reaching it even with my mouth.
He didn't seem embarrassed, or even aware of the sight he made. As they settled down to serious playing, he nonchalantly scratched himself, hiding his hand in his palm, and concentrated solely on the game.
Throughout those long evening hours he consistently won, losing only enough hands to keep the others happy and satisfy the laws of chance. He often dropped out, wisely appraising his hand and cutting his losses. I knew just enough of the game to tell that he was a very good player. I don't believe he cheated in any way, and the lack of rancor on the part of the others supported that belief.
It was a shock when he collected his first winnings. He picked the girl at the end of the hand, and as she came to him I could see his rising excitement. It was fantastic! So small and hidden, yet under the spur of lust it rose a full six inches beyond its shadowed niche. How much stayed out of sight I could not tell.
His winnings were small, so the poor girl had to engulf it with her mouth. His winnings were large enough however, to give her time to bring him to completion. He poured forth his tribute to her talents, filled and overflowed her ivory-bordered embrace, and then shrank swiftly out of sight, dismissing her without a word.
It wasn't long before he won another pot, though he didn't collect so readily that time. It was funny to see his choice root out his manhood from that furrowed field and slowly rouse it to its full extent, but time ran short and she had to leave him standing. His understanding mien tempted me to help him out, but I wasn't needed. He quickly solved that problem by himself, for he won again, and gained release from the tension of his badge of triumph.
After that he slowed down, winning just enough to stay ahead and keep me by his side.
I watched, though, as others lost and paid, won and collected. One fellow, who won and lost his hands almost alternately but managed to win more than he lost, would let his chips accumulate until he had just over a hundred, then claim a cunt to plunge briefly on his lap. He kept himself in a state of nearly constant erection this way, and with every episode he seemed closer to completion. At the end of the game he had only enough chips for a brief oral visit, but that was all he needed. Her mouth had hardly touched him, the lips had certainly not yet closed, when he burst with a yell. The pumped up pressure propelled a jet of fluid, thinner than normal, into her mouth with such force that it sprayed back, as when a hose is aimed into a bucket. He relaxed then, but when he left with his girl his eyes still glowed amorously.
For the rest, it was endless repetition of lustful snacks. The same scenes, the same cries, the same slaps of flesh and splash of fluids, till at the end no one had enough winnings to claim the supreme stake, though several had become horny enough to want it.
I was glad to leave when they were done, though a little leary of my guardian. True, he had kept me by him in the game, and it had seemed on purpose, but was that from any regard for me as a person, or did he only want me fresh for his own purposes?
When we reached his room I put down the clothes I was carrying and turned to face him. "What now, Pig-eye?" I asked defensively. I knew the answer. It was inevitable. It was my purpose here.
"We go to bed, Penny. It's getting late, and it's time again for bed. Don't look so stiff. I'm not going to bite you." He laughed, a gentle laugh, full of sympathy, as though he understood my plight. "Screw you, maybe, but not bite you. My tastes aren't anywhere near as fierce as some, like Charley. Relax, please. I'm nowhere near as bad as Hook."
He might have read my mind! His voice was so tender and apologetic, as if he feared I might scream, that I did relax. It was suddenly unthinkable that I should fear him, fail to trust him. He sounded like he might have a soul, know how to treat a woman, arouse her, satisfy her, in more ways than sex alone.
"I know, I'm fat, repulsively fat. At least, most people seem to think so, but I like to eat." He grimaced self-consciously. "But enough of that. I like to screw too, so show me what kind of a girl Charley's given me. You'll have to get me ready first, though. I'm afraid that kind of poker takes the iron out of my poker."
He spoke slowly, shyly smiling at his little joke as he pointed to his invisible tool. The look on his blubbery face, belying his words, made me think of some chubby little boy asking a favor, and my feelings softened.
I went slowly to my knees, fascination leading my eyes over the gross folds of smooth dry flesh, that should have been oily and greasy, but weren't. I pressed my face against the overhanging slope of his belly, burrowed beneath it into the cave it sheltered, rooting with mouth and nose like a hog seeking out the precious truffle.
I found the tip of his twig, grasped it with my lips, curled my tongue around it, licked down the side. As it grew in length and latent power, I was startled to find how deeply it extended. I held only the tip, and that was forcing my head away and my jaws apart with its swelling, but my tongue could not find its end. I probed with my fingers, feeling its sinewy strength, seeking its source, and found it only when the heel of my hand had passed my mouth.
I encircled its girth with thumb and forefinger, squeezing softly in time with the pulses of my cheeks and tongue, found and caressed his swollen sack with the other hand, enjoying the spongy texture of its heavy burden. I squeezed gently, just hard enough to evoke a low moan. My attentively laving tongue and nibbling teeth brought on a sudden pulsation as his muscles clenched beneath their soft and slippery coat. He moaned again and pulled away.
"Enough! I'm ready. Oh! I'm ready!" Half lifting me from my feet, he pulled me up and led me to the bed. His passions spurred him on to hurl himself down beside me, quickly digging his stubby fingers into my sensitive flesh. I couldn't help but feel a sudden surge of passion, but his own urgent desires hardly let him take the time to rouse mine to the fullest. I was just at the edge of lust when he pulled away and, kneeling at my side, tweaked my short hairs and panted, "Up! Up on your knees! Hurry!"
"What's this? What are you going to do?" I was worried. The only way I'd ever before sapped a man's potency in that position was astride him, pulling him up into me, using his groin and thighs for a rocking chair, but that plainly wasn't what Pig-eye wanted.
Impatiently, he cried, almost shouting, "I'm going to show you how a fat man does it. On your hands and knees. Hurry! I can't stand it!" Intrigued and curious, I obeyed. Barely was I in position as he'd ordered when he swung in behind me, planting his knees between mine and hefting up his paunch to rest on the shelf of my buttocks.
I felt him probing ineffectually at me and reached back to guide him into my warm embrace. His weight upon my back almost toppled me, but I was deft enough to recover before he was unseated. Smoothly sliding through my guiding hand, he searched out the limits of my womanhood. He lunged, stretching me to the point of bursting, filling me entirely, but still his sturdy prick filled my grasp, my fingers curling in the damp and furry niche from which the beast reared its enchanting head, sandwiched between our most intimate surfaces.
With his paunch out of the way, his belly flattened by his position, there was no end to the joy he could give. I ground back to meet his thrusts, felt him press into my depths until I almost choked and had to use both my hands to keep from collapsing. I squeezed and twisted, rotating my hips and clenching my thighs, glorying in his moans of delight, ceasing only when his quickening movements forced me to brace myself and lower my head to the pillow, limp with the force of crescendoing sensation.
As I bowed in worship of his power, he crowed in triumph and pride and bent forward over my back. His cushioning belly kept him from bending much, but he was able to reach and stroke my loins, sending waves of glowing heat through me as I shuddered in response. Though I hadn't been thoroughly ready at the start, I was now. His fulfilling probes, exciting touch, had seared my nerves till I was ready to scream with ecstasy.
When his finger found the bud at the slippery border of my cunt and rapidly diddled it, I stiffened and cried out, nearly swooning. He had been quiescent while he sought my joy, but my cry must have been a signal, for now he raced into action again.
Never have I seen a man go so long, so powerfully, so beautifully. Again and again my screams of joy resounded through the room as I peaked in answer to his shuttling motions. As he finally tensed with the initial surges of his climax, I was galvanized into action, moving my hips from side to side, quivering my muscles, clenching, milking him of every drop as he plunged even more deeply into me, stretching me beyond all possibility, and flooding my womb, filling the loving cup, finally overflowing it. I fell forward then in a dead faint, his collapsing weight forcing me down into oblivion.
I knew no more till morning, when he shook me awake and led me down to breakfast. It was a quiet meal. Hardly anyone was fully awake, and those that were, were silent, thoughtful. Many eyes were bleary from drink and lack of sleep, but soon they became more alert.
No clothes were worn that day, except our aprons, and the men cavorted naked through the house, pinching, feeling, collecting all the debts that had piled up since the last orgy. Pig-eye had me twice more, just as he had the night before. He looked crude in his quivering corpulence, but crude his talents weren't. He knew only the one position that would accommodate his shape, but he knew it well. His skill and gentleness were such that I soon came to look on him with something akin to fondness. He would never be able to take the place of my dear Rod, but he could most admirably fill his place for a little while.