Chapter 9
Hugo was forced to postpone his exciting evening with Carla and Midge when a delegation representing the owners he had been attacking with vigor, wanted a meeting with him.
They were a sorry looking lot, he thought as they sat around a table in his newspaper suite. He had hit them hard where they lived, in their wallets, and they showed it in the bitterness which showed clearly through what they thought were composed expressions.
He knew their spokesman, vaguely, as well as he wanted to know him. The man was then in his late fifties. He had graduated as a lawyer long before, but without any of the dreams which can make a lawyer a champion of the oppressed and the downtrodden, a defender of the judicial system and of society.
Early in his career, he had discovered how much money could be made in second mortages. At first, he used other people's money, manipulating it and allowing some of it to ooze off onto him. In time, he had enough money of his own to go it alone.
Hugo knew the type well. Let a poor man be even a day late with his payment and he faced the alternatives of foreclosure or heavy interest penalties. There was no sympathy. To him, Hugo thought, sympathy was a word in the dictionary, a word located between shit and syphillis. He wondered why the legal profession kept such men on the rolls since they were, in his opinion, far less respectable than the ambulance chasers who at least practiced law, not usury and legal banditry at the expense of the helpless and the desperate.
He listened to their case which turned out to be no case at all, but merely a rehash of their previous whining that they were being picked on, that they provided housing to the poor who would have no place to live without the slums. He heard the same old story about how the people who lived there deserved no better, that if the houses were repaired them would soon destroy them again because they didn't care, didn't want or deserve anything better.
Hugo allowed them to talk themselves out, then he delivered the kind of editorial he liked best, one that would never be printed and so allowed him to use any and all words he liked to tell them just what he thought of them and of their arguments, of their lust for money wrung from the bodies of the helpless and the hopeless. When he was finished, he warned them that he was just beginning to fight and that he was out to destroy them as they destroyed others.
After that, he didn't quite throw them out of his office, but he permitted them to cringe out, tails between their legs, angry and frustrated that they could not stop him, but even more, terrified that this troublemaker threatened their easy way of making a lot of money.
Alone in his office, Hugo seethed with anger and contempt. He started to write an editorial, then saw that he was too angry to compose anything readable in a family newspaper, so he closed up the office and went to the club.
Although it was only nine o'clock, The Club was hopping. Seeing that the main floor was jammed and realizing that he felt less than charming, he warned himself that he should avoid it and wait for another evening to charm the public.
On the second floor, the members only dining room, bar and lounge, he found a quieter atmosphere and sensed it would be just right to help him unwind. There were a few men gathered around the bar and he joined them for a chat about nothing in particular. They gave him a chance to talk about his slum campaign, but he carefully let is pass.
When one of them challenged him to a game of gin at ten cents a point, he accepted. Normally a good player, Hugo was untouchable. All the right cards came, he held the right ones, drew the right ones and kept catching the ones he needed to gin.
At the end, his dazed opponent who had given him tough competition in previous games, had been schnidered in two games and dropped a little over a hundred and thirty dollars. Sensing that a second game would work out much the same, he didn't ask for a return go.
The game relaxed Hugo completely, much as a well played game of chess always did, and he felt at peace with the world as he took his opponent's check and went up to the third floor to check the scene there and see who was around.
He had been primed for the session with Carla and Midge that evening, resented having called it off for the fruitless meeting with the property owners group, and he felt a vague gnawing in his loins which would not go away, he knew, until he did something to make it do so.
For a moment, he was surprised at not finding Midge in the lounge, then he recalled that when he had called off their private party, she and Carla had decided to make a night of it, planning their special party in further detail and going on from there to have a little party of their own.
He thought of crashing it since the night was still young, then decided against it. There was a do-it-yourself bar in the lounge, so he found a bottle of Canadian Club and did it himself.
When he spotted a group of three beautiful, off duty waitresses chatting animatedly, he decided to join them, chat for a while, then take one to his penthouse, but before he could do so, another one came into the lounge and he changed his plans.
Her name was Henrietta, but she was known to all who knew her as Horny Henny. It was her frequent boast that there was nothing on earth she wouldn't do with any man or woman in the world and she earned fabulous tips proving her point. It was unusual for her to be around the lounge for more than a few minutes before someone claimed her, so Hugo made a snap decision and called her to join him before someone else grabbed her off.
"Ah, my lucky night," she greeted him as she came to stand beside him. "His majesty deigns to speak to me. How are things among the millionaires?"
"Ask yourself," he replied, "you're the only one I know who makes more out of this place than I do."
"That's only because I can't be with you, lover man. Since I can't have you all to myself, I've set out to destroy myself through sexual abandon. So I pick up a couple of bucks along the way, what the hell."
When she laughed, Hugo laughed with her and saw that her edge of bitterness was gone and that she would be in her usual fun mood. He poured her a drink and they went to sit on a couch in a quiet corner.
"Is it just going to be a drink?" she asked, a hint of tension in her tone.
"Not unless you want it to be," he told her.
She responded with a sigh which told him that the sparring was really over and that she was ready to be her old self, Horny Henny at her best. For a man who wanted nothing more than to wallow in sexual abandon, he told himself, there could be no better partner.
"Tell me about yourself,," he said. "What have you been doing lately? What new sex records have you set?"
"I haven't been doing much in the way of business," she told him, "but man have I been busy. I found the sweetest little chick. She's blonde, nineteen and looks about fifteen, has the face of an angel and is the most perfect masochist I've ever met."
"Sounds great. A partner who likes to have her little fanny tanned should be happy with you."
"Are you kidding? You're talking about spanking, but that's too tame for this little angel. She likes the works. She really digs the bondage and torture bit and I keep her tied up for hours. Her first few beatings were with things like a riding crop, switch and a birch, but that became too tame for her. She went down on her knees and begged for more."
"Jesus, I'll bet she got it, knowing you as I do."
"You better believe it. I graduated her all the way to rubber and leather. The first taste of it I gave her, I took her to the basement, stripped her, tied her hands over her head and really made her dance. I used a short martinet with rubber thongs. Jesus how she danced while I lashed her arse, hips and thighs."
"And she liked it as much as you did?" Hugo asked.
"More. She screamed so much I was afraid the cops would storm the place, so I had to gag her."
"You wouldn't settle for just a normal gag, Henny, how did you do it?"
"Oh, nothing special. I took my panties off, took hers and made a ball out of the two of them. It seemed too dry to stick in her mouth that way, so I let her watch me piss on the ball, then, while it was still dripping I shoved it into her mouth. She had to drink piss fast to keep from choking, then I went back to work on her with the martinet. Jesus, from her knees to her waist, she looked like a road map. I made the tips of the thongs bite between her thighs, right up close to her cunt, and gave her a few strokes over the fronts of her thighs and her belly. When I finally cut her down and took her in my arms, she must have cried for an hour, at least. After that, we ate cunt all night."
"Christ, Henny, you're going to kill somebody one of these days."
"No way, Hugo, I'm a pro as a sadist. It's the dumb, fumbling amateurs who fuck things up. Now she likes to get it with a buggy whip. I can flick that lovely little instrument up her crotch and draw a red line within an inch of her cunt and be sure it won't be any closer then that. From behind, I can bring the whip down between the cheeks of her arse and be positive that it will only cut the side of her crack without touching her hole."
"Is she satisfied with the buggy whip?" Hugo asked, his penis twitching in excitement at the thought of the young beauty with such a taste for pain.
"She is for the time being. She had to have blood before she could be satisfied. It's such a shame to lash that beautiful body and make it bleed, but that's what I had to do to hold her. I can't stand the sight of her back and arse right now, it's such a mess. I left her tied up in the basement and I won't look at her until sometime tomorrow."
"What will you do then?"
"Oh, I'll slap her around a bit, threaten to kill her, make her eat my cunt and tongue my arsehole for a while, then I'll squat over her and piss all over her. You know, just generally cheer her up and make her happy after her long night tied up in the basement."
"You're all heart, Henny," Hugo told her with a grin. "Come on, let's go up to the apartment before you make me go off in my pants."
Laughing, they pushed their glasses away and left the lounge.