Chapter 9
Suddenly the man in the black domino mask took his hands off her shapely hips. She felt his firm thing jiggling against her buttocks, then she felt it soften and fold. "Ah hah!" he roared. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make fun of you. It's just that it struck me as so goddamn funny. Now we'll have to shoot the whole sequence over again, damn it!"
Kay's relief at her deliverance was mixed with a certain annoyance. "What's so funny?" she grumped. The more she thought about it, the more degrading it seemed for a man who had been intent on robbing her of her virtue to suddenly collapse on the job.
"What's funny? Oh, I don't know. Here you are getting fucked ... raped. Losing your cherry, and who do you ask for help? Some old cunt who was a professional virgin and some dippy guy that walked around in a nightgown ... never wore a pair of pants in his life and never went out without twelve other guys. Oh, Christ!" He exploded again in uncontrollable laughter. "Sometimes this crazy business is just too much!"
"I don't think it's funny," Kay said. But the hell of it was, the longer she thought about it the funnier it got. Against her will, Kay felt the corners of her mouth turning up in an impish smile. It sounded like the kind of thing old Sam would have said when he was younger. Remembering him, she stopped smiling.
The naked man in the domino mask went back to the camera. He turned the lights down while he changed reels, and Kay used the interval to poke her bobby pin into the lock again. It was hopeless. Glancing back covertly, she saw the man's tremendous thumper was relaxed again. Suddenly she realized time was passing. If she didn't get this ordeal finished by morning and get back to the apartment, anything might happen. Looking at the relaxed man, who hummed as he fiddled with camera and lights, Kay wondered if her slight, sixteen-year-old body was enough woman to hold any man's attention. Certainly she hadn't been doing as well with this man as she had with Tommy Taskoosh.
Her mind went back to their momentary encounter an hour ago. What was the Indian boy doing in Anchorage? Did he somehow know that she hadn't told the authorities how he'd tried to rape her? Did he know his rash wooing had killed old Sam?
"Okay," the man in the domino mask said, "Let's try it again. You're fiddling with the keyhole. Stoop over a little farther. Now I'm going to sneak up behind you and slip it in. Pretend you don't see me."
Stooping over the keyhole, still poking helplessly at the lock, Kay gritted her teeth. She felt his large hands grasp her hips again, felt his masculinity nuzzling at the crack between her buttocks. Involuntarily, she clenched them together, hoping to delay the moment of truth for another instant.
"Cut that out!" he snarled, delivering a stinging backhand slap to her upturned rump. "I'm having trouble enough getting it up without you gettin' cute."
Kay realized how hopeless her situation was. She tried to relax. The sooner he did it, the sooner she could have those other films and be free of the whole terrible business.
The man in the domino mask spanked her upturned bottom again, and Kay thought fleetingly of the way Mr. Veely had bound Miss Purlett's ankles together and had a field day slapping her satiny buttocks to an angry-looking, inflamed pink. She hoped the blackmailer wouldn't mistreat her that way.
Apparently he was ready now. She felt his revived meat nuzzling at the crack of her buttocks. She fought against the natural inclination to flinch and tighten up. Cameras whirred faintly in the background as she felt his tremendous blunt instrument probing, feeling its way inward.
Contrary to a lot of convent girls, Kay had watched enough sled dogs to know which hole he would put it in. She remembered grimly the hours she had spent kneeling in a corner saying Acts of Contrition for having tried to put some sniveling little tattletale straight on this elementary fact. No girl who had helped whelp pups could seriously believe children came out of the same hole as last night's supper.
Yet, unless Kay was sorely mistaken, that was where the man in the domino mask was putting it right now! Didn't he know any better? She wondered. Surely he knew better than that. Oh well, Kay decided, I've made a fool of myself often enough. She decided to wait and let him discover his own mistake.
Meanwhile, cameras were grinding away. She also wondered if the red wig and the orange makeup made her different enough not to be recognized on the street. Maybe a stranger wouldn't know her offhand, but Kay suspected anybody who really knew her wouldn't be fooled. Irrelevantly, she wondered if Tommy Taskoosh would ever see the film.
Whom else did she know well enough to worry about? Sadly, Kay realized there was nobody else who was close enough to her to recognize her in a bareback movie.
The man in the domino mask was still augering at her backside-at the place old Sam had always called "your bung". His hard-on seemed to be failing him. He bent over her back and grasped her firm, upstanding, young thirty fours from behind, fondling them in an effort to preserve enough rigidity to ram his rod past Kay's tight anal sphincter.
It had hurt when he had first started ramming her, but now his skewer had secreted some lubrication. She assumed it was the same slick juice that had flowed a few hours ago when she and Miss Purlett had turned one another on. The lubrication was serving the purpose. Little by little Kay felt her anus stretching as the blunt head of his tallywhacker inserted itself. It felt like she was going to the bathroom in reverse.
There was a sudden slipping and sliding that Kay felt as his thumper slid its full six firm inches up her anus. There was a sudden sensation of fullness, as if she had to defecate badly and right now. She conquered the sensation and remained bent over the forgotten keyhole. The first time he pulled it back out, Kay thought all her insides were going to come out with it. But he stopped short of forcing his tremendous knobbed head back out past her sphincter muscle. Kay held her breath and waited.
Very slowly and gently, he began pushing it back in again. At the end of his stroke, she felt the furry mat of his pubic patch tickling her smooth buttocks. There was another gentle tickle which she finally realized was his dangling scrotum bumping her at the bottom of each stroke.
He was poking her slowly, taking his time and holding for a moment at the outer end of each stroke. Finally the edge of her consciousness heard the whir of the camera and she realized why. He wasn't doing this because he liked her. He wasn't even enjoying her body. He was doing it to make a movie and make money. Someday when lonely men would sit in theaters watching her get buggered, they would get more of a thrill watching her than either Kay or the man in the domino mask were getting right now.
Then abruptly, Kay knew this wasn't true. It wasn't the same exquisite torment that she had experienced trading thrills with Miss Purlett. As Kay stooped before the keyhole, listening to the whir of the cameras, feeling his tremendous tool slide in and out of her, feeling his large capable hands fondle her dangling breasts, she wondered if it wouldn't be possible to do it just a little faster. Half-horrified, she felt her buttocks rear back to meet his slow slide into home base.
"Like it, huh?" he asked. But he didn't speed up or ram any harder. Kay found herself comparing this man with Tommy Taskoosh. Tommy had been violent ... Tommy had tried to rape her. But at least he was doing it because he wanted her-wanted Kay's body more than all others. This man didn't even seem to care much for women, and he was raping her, too, only in a different way. This man in the domino mask held her by bonds tighter than Tommy's iron grip, even if the bonds were only of color film.
But he was going at it so slow! Kay's bottom had accommodated to the tremendous bulk sliding in and out of her. It still hurt a little, but the hurt was something like the lovely wounds Miss Purlett had given her. It was a hurt mixed with a joyous anticipatory tingle that made Kay realize she was actually waiting and wishing for more.
Kay wondered if any of the saints in heaven had enjoyed their offering. As long as she looked at the keyhole, she didn't have to look into the lens of that whirring camera. She bent over the lock, poking idly with the bobby pin and trying not to think about the large capable hands that grasped her dangling breasts and fondled the smooth skin of her firm flat belly. She wanted to forget the tremendous thumping knob-tipped thing that was sliding in and out of her bunghole with the passionless motions of a piston rod.
Kay's breath was growing shorter. She was growing so excited, so desperate for some change and variety from the endless pumping that she was beginning to gasp. In her bent over position, it wasn't easy to breathe. She wanted to buck, to slam herself back against him each time he bottomed. She wanted to do anything that might awaken some emotion in the domino-masked man-something to prove that she was a human being.
"That's right," he encouraged. "Twist and squirm like you're suffering. Now turn around and look at me like you were asking for more."
Kay gave a shriek of despair as she saw her soul descend irretrievably into hell. "I am asking for more!" she sobbed. "Won't you hurry up and do it?"
There was a sudden flapping noise, and the camera whirred louder. "Balls!" the man growled. Kay felt him start to pull his enormous red knob all the way out. "No!" she shrieked, remembering how it had hurt going in.
The photographer laughed. "All right," he said. "Stick close while I change a reel." With his hands on Kay's buttocks, he steered her in front of him like a wheelbarrow as he walked to a cabinet and got out another reel of film. As he concentrated on getting one cartridge out of the camera and another in, Kay could feel his thing shrinking. He turned suddenly, and she wasn't quick enough. There was a thuck like the sound of a cork coming out of a champagne bottle, and Kay was disconnected. She stood up straight, trying to ignore the feeling of desolation and emptiness between her buttocks.
Somehow Kay knew all the hot water and soap in the world could never rid her of the feel of dirtiness. She found herself wishing that he would finish loading the damned camera so they could get back to work. Ironically she remembered Miss Purlett. It had only been two hours ago that the elegant blonde saleslady had explained to her that, "Some of them enjoy the work so much, they don't even ask for pay."
Finally the camera was ready again. This time he focused it on the padded bedspread in the middle of the big bare room. Kay knew she wouldn't be jabbing bobby pins in the lock any more-as if it had done any good. The man in the black mask walked about relaxed, his equipment dangling as if he had no knowledge of a naked sixteen-year-old virgin within grabbing distance. Horrible as the thought of rape was, Kay somehow felt even more insulted and degraded by his very failure to be aroused by her.
Am I that bad? Good heavens, Kay thought, I'm sixteen. If I can't attract a man now, what'll it be like when I'm an old woman of twenty-or thirty! The makeup table had a mirror. Kay stood before it, studying herself. Under the red wig her milk-white skin seemed much darker than usual. But her slight young body was still smooth and without blemish. She studied her tiny twenty-inch waist, comparing it with the smooth swell of her firmly rounded hips. She wasn't a big girl, so her breasts didn't sag. They were only thirty-fours, she knew, but above her tiny waist their perky arrogance should be able to get a rise out of that black masked cameraman's languid lance.
"All right," he called. "Your makeup okay?"
"I ... I guess so," Kay answered fearfully. She wondered if a wig and false eyelashes and all the guck on her face was really enough to make her unrecognizable.
Remembering those two pictures of her peeping surprisedly from Miss Purlett's crotch, Kay knew that whether she liked it or not, her disguise had better do the job.
"Now we get to the moment of truth," the cameraman said. "Lie down on the spread."
Kay took a deep breath. Might as well get it over with, she decided. She could guess what the moment of truth was going to be. After all the other things that had happened, losing her virginity didn't seem all that important. She had heard that some girls bled. She hoped it wouldn't hurt as bad as it had when he had first pushed his thudding blunt instrument into the crack between her buttocks.
"Not that way," he was saying. "Put your feet toward the camera. No, damn it! Face up!"
Obediently Kay moved, until the camera was centered on the sparse black hairs of her tiny pubic triangle.
"Now cringe."
"What?"
"I'm gonna whack you in the ass with this whip. Act like it really hurts-like I'm killing you." Before Kay could absorb what the cameraman was saying, the whip cracked loudly.
It was a long black whip, and it reminded her of the things men were supposed to use driving stagecoaches. The cameraman had popped it with a pistol-sharp crack in the general region of her already tender anus. Involuntarily, Kay drew her legs up. The whip popped again. This time it felt as if a knife had carved a piece from one of her tight-stretched buttocks. Kay screamed.
"Spread your legs!" he yelled. "Let's get a good view of that cherry."
From the corner of her eye Kay saw his thing starting to rise as he raised the whip for another slash.
CRACK!
This time the lash popped over her firm flat belly. Suddenly Kay knew that he was going to kill her. He wasn't paying any attention to the camera any more. Abruptly, he dropped the whip, and Kay was almost relieved when she saw him kneel to aim his quivering bargepole straight at the delicate membrane she had spent sixteen years saving and protecting.
Suddenly she didn't care. He knelt between her legs as Mr. Veely had done to Miss Purlett. Remembering the scene she had witnessed through the bathroom keyhole, Kay bent her knees to make it easy. She felt his thing pushing into her. He was twisting, grinding it against her hymen membrane, poking and lunging ineffectually.
Finally she raised her head to see what was wrong. She gasped. Already his rod had wilted. Each time he poked, it betrayed him, bending double or scooting off.
Good heavens, she thought, Aren't men interested in me at all? Then she remembered Tommy Taskoosh. Timidly, Kay reached out and grabbed the masked man's thing the way she had Tommy's.
"Naw!" he growled, slapping her hand away. "You're a reluctant virgin getting raped. What the hell you grabbin' it for?"
Kay didn't know. "I thought I could help," she finally said.
"Have to cut that out," he growled. "You're sure a hell of a reluctant virgin."
"And you're some rapist!" Kay shot back.
"Yeah," he said disgustedly. "A man can only do so much. Oh, well. You can blow it a while and use up the footage. Then we'll work something out."
Kay had been about to ask what he meant, when she remembered the way Mr. Veely had straddled Miss Purlett and, instead of putting it in like this man had tried to do and failed, the little lawyer had waddled all the way up her supine figure until he had it in her mouth. Kay wondered if she was going to vomit. Then she remembered her strange mixture of revulsion and fascination as she had watched the balding lawyer and Miss Purlett. She wondered what it would be like to have something that big in her mouth.
The man in the domino mask was standing in front of her. In the background she could hear the camera whirring. "Up on your knees," he instructed. "Now crawl toward me."
Dying inwardly, Kay did as she was told.
"Balls, this is no good!" he said. "Back down again."
Kay got back down on the padded bedspread, trying not to cry. If she did, he would probably get mad and hit her again. Even if he didn't, her tears would lose her false eyelashes and ruin all the bright-orange makeup. When she looked up again, the man had the whip in his hand.
"No!" Kay screamed, "Don't hit me again! I'm doing everything you want!"
"You ain't gettin' it up, kid," he said grimly.
Kay glanced down at his relaxed muscle. Before she could look up again, the whip cracked. She screamed as it flicked across the tip of one nipple.
"Now!" he yelled, "Forward quick ... on your knees ... and start gobbling!" Through a mist of pain and tears Kay could see his jock was beginning to jive again. Before he could hit her again, she rushed to cram it in her mouth.