Chapter 4
Things were not always as happy and good-tempered as Alec's Twelve-fold Fuck. I told you we had three soundproof rooms in the basement, where Don Marco would hide in the narrow little passage behind the false wall, and watch the proceedings through the see-through mirrors. 'Algolagnia Alley', he used to call it. It's an odd thing, Max, this 'pain-pleasure' business. To me, it says absolutely nothing at all: but I know that you and Janice wouldn't feel satisfied without it: and certainly we had plenty of it at my place in Boston.
I'm going to tell you something that Don Marco himself arranged; and it used to take place regularly once a month, and at a very nice fee too, thank you! Don Marco sent for me one day, to come to the steward's office: and shortly afterwards, the four Negroes arrived, sweating with nervousness in the presence of the Big Boss, who could have them beaten up, or slashed, or even killed, if they stepped out of line. He told us we were to look after two personal friends of his, and that he would be very cross if they didn't get full satisfaction: and then he started going into details.
To my astonishment, his two friends were a married couple! (And imagine how even more astonished I was later when he told me privately that it was the Mayor's son and his young bride, and that therefore absolute discretion was essential. ). After less than a year of marriage, they had found that their pleasure lay in personal pain and degradation: they had met Don Marco through a mutual friend, and asked for his assistance: and 'Algolagnia Alley' was to be their solution.
He briefed my Negroes patiently for half an hour, telling them exactly what they must, and must not, do. With a paternal smile, he promised them that any attempt at funny business would see them at the bottom of Boston Harbour that very same night, with a lump of concrete round their ankles. No blackmail; no photography; just the routine he had prescribed. no more, no less. And so it was, with five $100 bills in an envelope slipped into my hand every time.
An odd, sad, unhappy business, Max: they were nice people, good-looking, well-educated, polite. I could have wished them something better for their jollies: but they seemed to enjoy what we did to them. and in any case, it was what Don Marco wanted. so that was that! This is how the routine went: it never varied. (I can't use 'He' and 'She' all the time, or 'The Man' and 'The Woman'; and I mustn't mention their real names. so let's call them 'Mr. and Mrs. M.'. M's short for Masochist, of course).
They stepped out of the elevator and walked hand-in-hand along the corridor until they reached the room whose number I had given them; then Mr. M. rapped firmly on the door. Immediately it was flung open from inside; and my four Negroes, clad only in loincloths, darted out and dragged the startled pair inside. Sam, the leader of the quartet, who acted as my unofficial 'foreman', promptly immobilized Mrs. M. by clutching her to his chest from behind, with one huge hand clamped over her mouth. The little blonde struggled helplessly in his grasp. without, of course, making any impression on the huge Negro, who must have been more than twice her weight. Meanwhile the other three swiftly overcame the token resistance put up by her husband; and within the minute he had been bound hand and foot to a stout chair, and heavily gagged. One Negro stayed on guard beside him: then she gave an inarticulate little cry, and a curious look flashed across her face. half terrified revulsion, half pleasurable anticipation. The three Negroes had discarded their loincloths; and the stiff black pricks were pointing menacingly at the slim body of their little victim. From his captivity on the chair, Mr. M. made a strangled noise behind his gag as the big hands went out towards his wife.
With infinite care and patience, moving as if in an inexorable slow-motion dream, Sam's two assistants took her by the arms from either side and held her rigid, her arms spread in a cross. Sam's hands came out: slowly, he undid the buttons of her jacket, one by one: gently, the other two maneuvered her arms so that the jacket could be slipped off and cast aside. Again the cruciform position; once more Sam's hands came out. this time, to her blouse, slipping the buttons slowly through the button-holes; once more, the maneuvering of the arms ending in the jettisoning of the blouse; and now the smooth white shoulders were laid bare. Slowly and tenderly, Sam fondled and stroked the alabaster flesh: while on the chair the husband, bound and gagged, struggled futilely, his wide-open eyes glued to the spectacle of his helpless wife.
With a little smile, Sam let his hand fall slowly to the fastening of the skirt: his strong fingers dealt expertly with button and zipper, till suddenly, with a soft rustle, the garment slipped downward to the ground. At once the other two lifted her by the arms for an instant: Sam bent swiftly, and whisked the skirt away, leaving the woman standing in her chemise. She was panting with emotion now, her beautiful eyes wide open and liquid as she stared in fascination at her strong well-muscled tormentor.
Again the little smile: and now he bent down and took hold of the chemise at the sides. Slowly he skinned it up, up. In his chair, Mr. M. made an animal noise into his gag as the long slim thighs came into view, clad in their shimmering silk: and then the sweet curves of the loins, imprisoned in a pink girdle over silken briefs: next, the smooth golden flesh of the stomach and the tiny waist: then the twin mounds of the breasts in their dainty brassiere. Now they raised her arms above her head: up, up went the chemise. past the lovely neck; past the beautiful face, mouth open and panting; over the crisp blonde curls and up the arms, where the other two took over, shifting their grip to free the chemise completely and cast it aside before lowering the arms to their previous cruciform position.
Sam knelt down on one knee, and freed the girdle-grips from the tops of the stockings: then slowly, tenderly, first the left and then the right, he ran his cupped hands down the golden thighs, over the rounded knees, down past the well-turned calves to the slim ankles, taking the stockings with him as he did so. Again the momentary lifting, by the arms: and one! two!. the high-heeled shoes were slipped from her feet, together with the silken stockings.
Next came the Playtex girdle: as this was rolled down over the curve of the hips, Sam leant forward and delicately, deliberately, licked the inner reuses of the little navel now displayed. The woman shuddered at the warm contact, and struggled futilely for an instant. The girdle fell to the floor: again the momentary lift: and now the lovely body was clad only in silken pants and brassiere. Sam stepped closer, and put his arms around her: in this position, his rigid prick lay close against the front of her pants: he worked his pelvis forward once or twice, so that the hard rod rubbed up and down against the silken fabric: she shuddered at the contact. A quick movement of his hands behind the sculptured back released the hooks of the brassiere, which fell forward as if in relief at being freed from its load. Slowly, slowly her arms were bent inwards, and the straps slipped off: then once more the cruciform position was imposed. only this time her arms were held a little back and up, so that her firm and lovely breasts were jutted proudly upwards. Sam cupped them in his two hands, and rolled them round and round: then his fingers drew together, and the beautiful coral nipples were lightly pinched and kneaded till they stood out in sharp relief. Slowly his head came down, and each nipple vanished in turn between his lips, as he tongued it gently and skillfully for a moment.
The silence of the room was broken only by the panting of the woman and the creaking of the chair in which Mr. M. was writhing helplessly as he watched the slow methodical despoliation of his wife.
Finally, with infinite care, Sam slipped the silken pants down over her hips, down her thighs, and dropped them on the floor. The little blonde was now stark-naked, and at the mercy of her three tormentors.