Chapter 15
For the next two days, Sugar neither saw nor received so much as phone call from Ordway. What happened after he dashed out of the apartment with his wife in close pursuit, she hadn't the faintest idea. She knew only one thing, if he didn't come back soon, she was going to be in one hell of a mess-living in an apartment that she couldn't even begin to pay for since she had no money to speak of and a car that wasn't even in her name. All of which meant, she didn't dare leave the apartment, not even to go to school, until she got some word from him.
It was shortly after midnight Friday, the third day following Sylvia Ordway's untimely visit to the apartment. Sugar had gone through an evening of watching TV, after which she undressed and put on one of her sheerest nighties. She had just turned out the light and gotten into bed-when she heard a key rattle in the front door.
She sat up sharply in bed, snapped on the lamp on the table beside the bed and waited breathlessly, her heart pounding until she saw Ordway come into the bedroom. He hurried to the bed and halted beside it.
His face was pale and drawn, and Sugar could see he didn't have his usual hard-on. She smoothed out a place beside her on the bed. "Sit down, darling. Tell me what happened."
He shook his head and moved back away from the bed as if it were on fire. "I can't stay. Sylvia's got the goddamn woods crawling with private investigators. Only way I could get up here, was pay the superintendent of the building to let me in through the basement and up the back stairs." He hurried around the bedroom, searching behind pictures, inside the lamp shades, back of the dresser, even under the bed and carpet.
"What is it, Cal?" Sugar asked anxiously.
"For all I know, she may have the whole fucking apartment bugged," Ordway said as he came back to the bed and accepted her offer to sit beside her. "But only for a few minutes. I've got to talk and talk fast before one of her goddamn gumshoes finds out I'm here and lets Sylvia know."
"I missed you," Sugar whispered, trying to placate his fears.
"And I missed you," he confessed. "Missed you so much I goddamn near went into the John last night and jacked off."
"Poor baby," she sympathized and placed a hand lightly on his thigh.
He jumped away from her and removed her hand from his leg with great reluctance, perspiration sprouting out all over his face. "Christ-don't do that! Please! Not that I don't want it-but if Sylvia ever found out."
She looked at him, puzzled. "You can't mean you're worried about her divorcing you?"
"That's exactly what I'm worried about."
"But you can't possibly love her."
"Love?" Ordway retorted with a grimace. "Who the hell said anything about love?"
"Then why-?"
Ordway took hold of Sugar's shoulders, fighting desperately to keep his eyes off her lightly covered tits and chestnut-brown pussy hair that crept out from beneath the bottom of her hiked-up nightie. "It's about time you understood a few of the facts," he said seriously. "When I first met Sylvia, I was pushing dress carts through New York's garment center. I might still be doing the same thing, if I hadn't married her. Her old man was one of the wheels in the garment industry. Had a fortune. It was his money that helped open our first dress shop back in the Bronx. His money that let us move out here and start De Moiselle Boutique.
"Sure, I'm the boss. I'm president of the company. But in small prints in all contracts, it says the business belongs to Sylvia. Every last share of it. That was the only way her old man would agree to back us. Which means that as long as Sylvia and I stay married, I'm loaded. Money, . property, cars-all mine. But the second either of us start talking divorce, I'll end up on the sidewalk holding my ass and nothing more. So if I hope to go on living in the style to which she's been keeping me, I've got to make sure Sylvia stays my wife."
"And me?"
Ordway studied her intently for several long moments, then he said, "I guess you know that during these past months that we've known each other, you've brought me an awful lot of happiness."
"I hope I have," Sugar whispered.
He nodded. "For which I figure I owe you something. I mean, after getting you used to a whole new way of life, it wouldn't be fair for me to just say good-bye and let it go at that."
Sugar kept searching his face, wondering what he had in his mind for her.
"Money and nice things must be very important to you, for you to have to put up with some of the things I've asked you to go through," he went on.
It was her turn to nod now.
He continued to hold her gaze intently. "I'm wondering just how important it is to you? I'm wondering what you'd do for a quarter of a million dollars?"
Sugar swallowed and blinked her eyes. "Did you say-a quarter of a million dollars?"
"On the barrelhead," he confirmed. "What would you do for that kind of money?"
"Anything!" Sugar blurted out.
"Anything?" he exacted.
"Anything short of stealing, or killing anyone," she modified.
"Does that mean anything in the sex line?" he wanted to know.
"Yes," she replied without hesitation.
"Good, because that's what you'll have to do," Ordway told her.
Sugar frowned. "I'm afraid I don't understand."
He smiled faintly. "I have a friend. Lives north of Beverly Hills, in Benedict Canyon. He's a multimillionaire. I play golf with him and he's done me a great number of favors. He has a standing offer-a quarter of a million dollars to any girl who'll live with him and do anything he asks-in the sex line."
"For how long?" Sugar asked.
"Six months," Ordway replied. "If she completes the order, fills the bill-she gets a check for the quarter-million. If not, he pays her off pro rata. Meanwhile, she'll live in the style of a millionaire. A style a lot better than I could ever hope to keep you in."
"His name?"
"Clyde Cummings."
While Sugar had no first-hand knowledge of the man, the name "Clyde Cummings" was not foreign to her. He was always popping up in the newspapers and on TV. Airplanes, movies, oil, art deals, politics and real-estate developments-he was involved profitably in all of them. As Sugar remembered, he'd had six or seven wives, each of whom he'd divorced with some stratospheric settlement.
Sugar couldn't help but wonder if this search for a "girl to do anything" could possibly be his way of finding wife number seven or eight, whichever the case might be. Not that she was particularly concerned with whether or not she ever became Mrs. Clyde Cummings. A quarter of a million dollars would suit her very nicely.
Sugar took a moment to consider and found it difficult to conceive of anything that Clyde Cummings might ask her to do that she hadn't already done with Yale, her uncle, Nick Damon or Cal Ordway, with whom she'd really run the gamut. Besides, as Ordway just told her, if the going got too rough for her, she could always walk out on the deal.
"Well, what's the answer,?" Ordway asked impatiently. "Think you'd like to try it?"
Very slowly and thoughtfully, Sugar wagged her head.
Ordway smiled broadly. "I thought you would. That's why I set up an appointment for you to meet Cummings at his place in the canyon. He'll send a car around for you tomorrow evening at about seven to pick you up and take you there. And I knew you're going to do me proud."
What Ordway neglected to tell her was that there was another clause to the deal. That anybody who sent Cummings a girl who was willing to try for the quarter of a million dollars would receive a ten-thousand-dollar bonus-if she was accepted. And another forty thousand if she lasted out the six months, which so far no girl had done. But Ordway didn't tell Sugar that, either.
Whether it was the thought of that windfall, or visualizing what Sugar might be in for when she met Cummings the following night, Ordway momentarily forgot all his good intentions and all fear of his wife. He pushed Sugar backward onto the bed, took out his cock and fed it to her hungry pussy for what they both knew full well would be the last time.
It was a big, black, chauffeur-driven limousine, and it came to call for Sugar at her Santa Monica apartment at exactly seven o'clock Saturday night. Ordway had told her to look provocative, so she put on the most recent addition to her wardrobe. An elegant, silver lame evening gown that clung to every swell and indenture of her curvaceous body. With a delicious décolletage that showed off her voluptuous tits to within an inch or so of her nipples, Sugar was absolutely radiant.
Apparently accustomed to picking up young ladies and driving them to Cummings' place in the canyon, the chauffeur nevertheless paid due homage to her abundant charms as he showed her into the car. Then he got into the front seat behind the wheel and drove her in discreet silence to her destination.
Even though it was night and the mansion was hidden away from curious eyes in a rustic cul-de-sac, Sugar could see the splendor of the huge mansion. Located on a hillside above breathtaking Benedict Canyon, the estate covered several heavily wooded areas.
The locked wrought-iron gate that barred the uninvited from the spacious grounds opened for Sugar and the chauffeur as they approached it. Then they followed the winding driveway, flanked with overhanging trees and flowers, to the great stone main house in which Cummings lived.
A uniformed butler greeted Sugar at the front door with polite impassiveness and invited her inside. In her whole life, Sugar had never seen anything quite like the interior of the big house. Everything about it was costly impressive, from the massive cut-glass chandeliers that hung down from the sky-high ceiling to the pornographic original oils that adorned the sparkling marble walls. Case-hardened as Sugar may have imagined she had become, while waiting briefly for the butler to announce her arrival, some of the sex acts depicted in the paintings actually made her drop her eyes and blush.
It was with considerable relief that Sugar finally followed the butler into the library where he introduced her to the master of the sprawling estate, who arose from a massive leather chair to welcome her.
Sugar had seen photographs of Clyde Cummings in the newspapers, magazines and even on television. But this was the first time she had ever seen him in person. To say that she was impressed would have been putting it mildly. It would have been impossible for anyone not to be impressed by the striking figure he presented.
Somewhere in his mid-forties, Cummings was a tall man, somewhat over six feet with a lithe, slender figure, a ruggedly handsome face, silvered temples and a streak of platinum gray that ran through his crop of thick, black hair. His eyes, too, were penetratingly black and almost scarey. His upper lip was thinner than usual, the lower lip full and sensuous.
Apparently Cummings was pleased with what he saw, too, as his eyes appraised Sugar from the top of her lovely brown head to the toes of her spiked heels. When he had finished his appraisal, he smiled warmly and said, "Well, I see old Ordway finally came up with a winner ... in looks at least."
Sugar guessed that meant she wasn't the first girl whom Ordway had sent here to try for the quarter-of-a-million-dollar jackpot. But she made no comment.
Sugar very soon discovered that Cummings was a man of quick action. He didn't go in for subtleties or long, drawn-out preliminaries. Perhaps that was the secret to his tremendous success. As soon as the butler left them alone, Cummings got right to the point.
"Since we both know why you're here, Miss Kane, we may as well get right down to the business at hand," he said. "There's little point in wasting your time and mine-if you aren't qualified. Agreed?"
Sugar tensed a little and nodded her head.
"You appear to have a very beautiful body," he went on. "But most any woman would look good in a gown like the one you're wearing-so let's begin by taking it off."
Sugar hesitated a moment as she watched him return to the big leather chair and sit down facing her. Strange. After all the times she'd appeared naked in front of Ordway, his son, Nick Damon and even her uncle, Sugar had believed she had little or no modesty left. But it wasn't true. She was as bashful and jittery as she'd been that very first time she disrobed in front of Yale.
Cummings frowned disapprovingly at her hesitancy. "We aren't getting off to a very promising start, are we? A girl who's reluctant about even taking off her clothes can hardly be expected to begin to earn herself a quarter of a million dollars, can she?"
The mention of the money he was offering immediately shook Sugar out of the momentary freeze that had gripped her. She reached the zipper at the back of her gown, slid it open and worked the top down to her waist. She wore no bra, her jutting, pink-nippled breasts exposed to his lustful gaze.
He made no comment but beckoned her forward until she was within arm's length of him. Then he reached out and cupped her quivering tits in both hands. He lifted them, testing their weightiness and resiliency, fingering the nipples to hardness, causing her sensations that by now were all too familiar to her.
She fought to control herself, hoping that her body wouldn't betray her, until she found out whether he liked a girl who was so easily aroused, or one who took a while to warm up. When he was through handling her tits, she stepped back from him and continued to remove her gown. Ordway had cautioned her never to wear a garter belt under lame because of the unsightly bumps it made, which meant no stockings either. So that once the dress was off, all she had on was a pair of gossamer bikini panties and her tall heels.
"Leave on the heels, darling," Cummings told her. "A girl always looks more beautiful in shoes. But take off the panties. Okay?"
She obeyed and after his eyes roved her nudity, he brought her forward again to run a hand through her bush, then down between her legs and over her moist labia. He looked up at her with a faint smile.
"You excite easily, don't you?" he asked. He seemed to end every statement with a question. This question Sugar didn't bother to answer. She simply looked away and ran her tongue over her dry lips.
He reached behind her and put the flat of his hand on her bare buttocks, drawing her closer as his fingers worked their way into her spreading cunt. "You seem very young, darling. Exactly how old are you?"
"Eighteen."
"For sure?"
"For sure."
"I hope you're right. The laws are damned strict in this state," he said. "They'd just love to throw the book at somebody like me."
"I'm eighteen," she insisted.
He stood up, facing her. For the first time she noticed what a hard-on he had. She was sure it must have been the angle at which she was looking at it. Because it seemed abnormally large. No man possibly could be such a size, she told herself.
"Okay, let's get over to the divan," he said and led the way across the room to a sprawling, brown-leather-covered sofa that matched the huge easy chair he'd been sitting in. With no armrests or back, it stood against a floor-to-ceiling mirrored wall, in direct contrast to the other three walls laden with bookcases and mounted wild animal heads.
Instead of inviting her to sit down, he sat on the edge of the divan himself. His eyes traveled slowly upward over her nude body, drinking in some of the more interesting parts-her pubic hair glistening with the first hint of her passion, her nipples a glowing bright pink from his fingering, her mouth wet and partly open. Then his eyes flickered. He caught her eyes and let his gaze wander to his lap-to the throbbing lump concealed in his trousers.
"Get down on your knees and take it out," he told her.
Sugar wavered a moment. Then she remembered what he said about being shy and uncooperative. She dropped to her knees before him, a hand on each of his thighs. He still looked unusually big.
She took a deep breath to bolster her courage, then moved her hands slowly upward over his thighs to the throbbing bulge. She was amazed to find that he not only looked big, he was big. Frighteningly, yet fascinatingly big. She suddenly found herself curious to see what it looked like as her hands went for his fly and opened it. She slipped her right hand inside his trousers through the opening of his shorts and found his cock. It was hot and hard and seemed incredibly large.
She didn't try to ascertain just how big it was by measuring it with her fingers. Instead she used both hands to bring it out into the open. Then she stared down at it as if mesmerized.
It was a tremendous thing, twelve to fourteen inches long and fatter around than her wrist. The glans was still sheathed, peeking wet and redly out from the wrinkly opening in the foreskin.
"Suck it," she heard him say to her.
She glanced up at him, then dropped her eyes back to the leaking head of his cock. Her emotions were strangely confused. She was repulsed at the thought of what he told her to do, even though she'd done it with Yale and his father. At the same time an unexplainable excitement began bubbling inside her as she tried to imagine what it would be like to have her mouth filled with so much cock, what a tremendous, unforgettable experience it must be when a thing that size began to convulse and come.
She felt a blinding, building pressure in her loins, a simmering, expectant ecstasy in her cunt. Suddenly delirious with an excitement she didn't understand and wholly unmindful of what she was doing, she reached out and grasped the base of his throbbing dong in her fingers. Then greedily, like a great cat, Sugar rubbed the head of his cock against her cheek, closer and closer to her lips.
His pungent male odor and the heat of him started her moaning with anticipation. She couldn't be sure in her own mind whether the emotional excitement she was feeling was genuine or simply a buildup in her mind of wanting to please him. To qualify, as Ordway put it, by acting the way she thought he would want her to act.
She had never performed fellatio on a man who wasn't circumcised and she wasn't sure what to do. But instinctively, she pulled the foreskin all the way back until the bulging purplish knob slipped free. Sugar didn't have to ask what to do next. She opened her wet, red lips wide and swooped down on her enormous prey.
She thought her mouth would split as the great head of his cock slithered inside to lie throbbing wildly against her tongue. She glimpsed herself in the mirrored wall, as she had done with Yale, and saw her cheeks puffed out with his immense organ.
She heard him moan, then felt him grab handfuls of her long hair roughly, forcing her mouth into a deeper embrace. He kept her face locked there against his loins, jabbing into her mouth with short, deliberate thrusts.
Her head bobbed furiously, in the throes of a masochistic passion, her sharp teeth grating over the slippery surface of his cock. Her tongue curled around the juicy knob to lave the sensitive cleft on the underside, the way both Yale and his father had taught her.
Sugar could feel her own warm, sticky fluid running down the insides of her thighs. Her cunt ached for that fat hunk of throbbing meat in her mouth, but she knew by the sounds he was making and the gyrations his body was going through, it wasn't going to happen-yet.
A few moments later, in a long series of violent spasms, Cummings spewed forth his steaming load into her mouth. It was all-and more-than she thought it would be. It was all she could do to keep her fevered lips clinging to his pulsing cockhead, the spurts coming as fast as she could swallow.
What amazed her most of all was that after the gobs of sperm she sucked out of him, his cock remained hard. To her own secret delight, he lifted her onto the divan, took a moment to remove his trousers and shorts, then got back onto the divan atop her.
For a moment, Sugar panicked as she visualized the gargantuan dimensions of his prick and wondered if she could possibly accept him. Then she remembered she'd had the same fear about Yale, her uncle, Ordway and even Nick Damon, who fucked her in the ass. She guessed there must be some truth to the adaptability of the female body, because each time she had adjusted to their size. Same as she would adapt for Cummings now, stretch her cunt walls until she accepted him. But it proved to be not all that easy.
Cummings was inches bigger in every way than the average man, while Sugar was still just a teen-ager, little more than a child-woman. Experienced or not, she was still tight. She gasped, bucked and tried to retreat from the murderous kiss of his cock. But it obviously was an experience Cummings had gone through with every woman he had attempted to plow.
Clamping her hips forcefully in his strong hands, he gave Sugar no quarter. He pushed his outsized organ between the strangling walls of her cunt, applying a steady, agonizing pressure for her as well as for himself.
"Oh God!" she sobbed piteously, rolling her hips and pushing up at him with both hands. "Please stop! You must stop! I can't stand it! You're too big! You're killing me with that horrible thing!"
He paid no attention, pushing relentlessly deeper and deeper into her snug, unyielding cunt, seeming to get some sadistic pleasure out of hearing her cry out in pain. Was this what Ordway meant by "qualifying"? Was this why Cummings was offering a small fortune to any girl who could tolerate this torture for six months? She tried to close her mind to the pain. But it was impossible. The pain was too great. He was simply too big and she too small. And then all at once he stopped pushing and just lay atop her.
"You did it, sweetheart," he consoled her.
"Did it?" she asked dazedly.
"I bottomed."
She couldn't believe her ears. "You mean-you're all the way in?"
He rubbed against her and smiled. "My belly against yours. That means there isn't any more to give you."
Miracle of miracles. She had accepted all of him, every last inch of his prodigious cock. Whether she had blacked out the way she did that night with her uncle, she didn't know. But she could feel Cummings berthed within her, filling her cunt as it had never been filled before.
He lay there quietly atop her for several seconds, allowing for her to adjust still more. Then he began to move against her. She was still tight, excruciatingly tight, and the pain was still there. But it was nothing like it had been before. Then gradually as the fluid from his cock combined with juices of her pussy, her agony faded and her body became filled with delight. After that, it didn't take long. Due to the tightness of Sugar's wringing slit, he spilled quickly, his giant cock jarring her entire body with each round of white-hot sperm he shot into her, setting off her own orgasm that in its intensity threatened to tear mind and body apart.
Sugar lifted herself and clung to him until the last drop of his cum was inside her and she felt her own climax start to recede.
It was at that moment when she let go of him and he started to lift himself off her, that she saw his hand reach under the divan to press a tiny, hidden button. Then an incredible thing happened-the mirrored wall to the right of the divan suddenly became a blaze of light and what sounded like a roar of thunder burst forth, filling the library.
Sugar bolted up on the couch and stared into the sudden light dazedly. It took several moments for her eyes to become adjusted. Then to her profound horror she saw the sea of faces staring back at her. She shifted her gaze to Cummings in utter confusion.
He smiled as he sat there on the divan beside her, his cock hanging down soft and wet between his legs. Even in repose it was sizes larger than the average man's penis.
"I ... I don't understand?" Sugar managed.
"My guests," he told her simply. "Our audience."
"Audience?" Sugar echoed, horror-stricken as she searched in vain for something with which to cover herself, finally being forced to resort to her hands as she slid off the far side of the divan where those on the other side of the glass wall couldn't see her. "You mean they...they were watching us? Saw everything we did?"
Still smiling, he said, "Everything, darling. But more than that, they were sitting in judgment."
Sugar's head was reeling. "Judgment... of whom?"
"You, naturally. It's up to them to determine whether or not you're acceptable as a member of our group," Cummings explained unemotionally. "Because until you join the group, you can't hope to qualify for anything else." He turned away from Sugar and looked at their audience at the other side of the mirrored wall. "Well, what's your answer?" he called out. "Is she acceptable-yes or no?"
Instantly the library was filled with shouts of "yes" followed by another round of tumultuous applause.
Cummings reached down, took Sugar's hand and kissed it. Then with a smile he said, "Looks like you've been accepted-overwhelmingly."
Sugar was still in a mild state of shock. "But I ... I don't even know what kind of group I've been accepted into."
His smile spread across his ruggedly handsome face. "That's what you're about to find out," he told her and bade her to rise.
"But. . . I'm naked," she murmured, crossing her arms across her breasts.
"That's the order of dress, my darling," he told her enigmatically.
Then he stood up and pulled off the rest of his clothes until he was as naked as she.