Chapter 6
Blonde Betty McDonald lay across Gregson Torrance's lap, her face covered with her hands, her pale white oval-shaped bottom salaciously upturned. He sat up, propped against the pillow and beyond he could see the twinkling multicolored lights of Manhattan. Only the little bed lamp light diffused its soft glow on the young secretary's naked flesh. But from that first ferocious fuck they had just enjoyed, he already knew volumes about her aptitudes and amorous temperament.
She was direct, passionate, and amoral-and this last attribute was the most important of all to the banker. Such a girl could be selfish and predatory as desired, and if it suited her interests to aid him in his secret plan to strip Diane Wilson of all her prestige and finances and snobbery just as he meant to strip her voluptuous, patrician, virginal body and subject her to the most intense kind of humiliation and degradation, he foresaw that she would be a perfect foil in this alliance. She was sensual enough to appreciate the sadomasochistic pleasures of subjugating the young heiress, particularly since she had already met Diane and been unpleasantly treated by the snobbish beauty. At the same time, while certainly not a gold digger, Betty McDonald was looking out for Number One avowedly, and so if it would be to her particular profit to take part in an enterprise which would provide her with amusement and a kind of revenge as well as sexual pleasure, she would certainly not veto the idea.
After they had smoked a cigarette and had a sip of brandy or two, following their fucking cohesion, Betty had scampered off to the bathroom and then returned, a lithe, saucy nymph with her eyes glowing and lips curved in a crooked little smile as she huskily whispered, "Didn't you say something about giving me a good spanking, lover? Maybe it will get us both in the mood for something as nice as we just had, hmm?"
And so she had made him sit up and even helped him put the two pillows behind his back. "Now you can be my daddy," she murmured evocatively, as she crouched before him on her knees, leaning so that her beautiful pear titties dangled temptingly before him and so that he could reach out and squeeze them fondly with his avid fingers.
"And you're going to paddle my heinie because I've been a naughty girl and won't do what you want. And of course I'll have to do it because I just can't stand being spanked Forever. Would you like that, Greg honey?" She had dropped the "son" of his name, and he suddenly found that he preferred the more intimate abbreviation. Myrna hadn't ever called him that, as he could recall. So right there was a differentiation between his two mistresses-and now he knew that he was going to maintain Betty McDonald just as devotedly as he had done the beautiful mulatress whom he had saved from gang rape and who had become his devoted confidante as well as concubine.
And from the sensory viewpoint also, Myrna and Betty furnished deliciously divergent qualities of pleasure for him. Not that Myrna, despite her partial Negroid blood, was ever too musky, but there was a kind of earthy rawness to her, in the heat and moisture of fucking. Yet Betty was warm and dry, though her mouth and cunt were moist, and the two contrasting opposites excited him enormously. He put his left palm on the small of her back and ran is right hand lingeringly over the resilient assovals, while she made them quake and tense and flex with her agile gluteal muscles. She wiggled her toes and her heels, shifted herself a little closer to him. He could feel his prick already hardening again, and he knew that this second fuck of theirs would be even more thrilling than the first one.
Slowly he began to spank her, but with no set rhythm or pattern. The first slap for example, decorated the top outer edge of her right hip with a bright pink splotch; the second took nearly a minute before it fell on the base of her left bottomglobe. Then followed three or four crisp, rapid slaps all down the crease of her bottomglobes, a sinuously broadening crease which let him have a glimpse of the soft fig of her cunthole and the shadowy groove which led to that other temple of Sodom. These were sensitive areas indeed, judging by the way she kicked up first one leg and then the other, and she sighed and squirmed again. Now he could feel her hairy bush rub against the tip of his straining prick and knew that he was becoming reinvigorated to a renewal of their coalescence.
He ran his left hand up along the deeply hollowed cleft of her spine and then back to the chink-bone, pressing down hard to tell her that he was about to resume this voluptuous chastisement. Then his right hand fell sonorously, once to each bottom summit, feeling the springy white flesh jump and start under the impact of his hand and then seeing the gradually pinkish hue imparted tc the pale white skin. She caught her breath at each of these, kicked up one leg and then the other again, and wriggled herself even closer to him. Now he could definitely feel the silky fronds of her cunt-hair rasping against his agitated prick.
"Please do it harder, Greg," she murmured softly, without removing her hands from her face. And then she spread her thighs lasciviously, arching up her naked behind as if inviting all the slaps that he could bestow upon her. He felt his blood boil in his veins and he reached for the scruff on her neck with his left hand while at the same time he brought his right hand down sharply on the base of her right bottomglobe, then on the corresponding area of the other cheek. And this time he was rewarded by hearing her groan, "Aahhh, oh yes, that's it, Daddy!"
He paused now, keeping his hand pressed against the warm tingling flesh where he had last slapped it, and demanded in a hoarsening voice, "Tell me, Betty, because I don't really know too much about your back-ground, did you and your father get along well?"
"My father? Oh yes. My stepfather? A real bastard, Greg. So when I say Daddy, I mean my real one. Of course he never did this to me, but I often wanted him to. He died when I was just a kid, just a little before I first started having my time of the month. You know, the age-old curse every girl gets because darned old Mother Eve had to go and eat that apple in the Garden of Eden,"
"So I'm a father image for you am I, young lady? That's not too bad. Incest has a certain spice and fillip to it, you know."
"uh huh, I know that very well. That's why I'm so squirmy. Can't you feel me rubbing against your boy?" she giggled softly. "Go ahead, make me cry, teach me to be a good girl because I've been so naughty. Make me do something I don't want to do just because I can't stand how my poor little bottom's going to feel. Please!"
And this was a kind of spiritual catharsis and he could understand it. For he had his own to work out, and it involved Diane Wilson. True, what he was proposing to do to her was highly criminal: skillfully and yet legally rob her of her inheritance, though perhaps he really didn't need it. He was wealthy in his own right, but he had such an obsession about her insolence and arrogance that he wanted to see her reduced to nothing. He wanted her to be across his lap, but in chains, and that was the difference. With Betty, it would be a sweet symbol of a kind of bondage which would be playful and therefore more meaningful in such a relationship. But his thorough sadism and his rutting lust could be best expressed by subjugating Diane Wilson into the lowly status of a bed slave, a piece of furniture who would serve him perhaps as a living hammock or a footstool or a book rest or even a table for his meals.
As he closed his eyes, he could see her in his office, sitting with her legs crossed, smoking a cigarette, hunching her shoulders and giving him that petulant look which always indicated that she was bored and disgusted with even having to talk with him. She would do more than that before he was done with her.
And now his hand came down with gusto on Betty McDonald's luscious naked ass, really stinging, applying to the tops of each bottomglobe in turn, then to the base and then to the roundest, plumpest curve of each luscious assoval. Ten good hard swats with hardly any respite between each, and this time she groaned and sobbed and arched and twisted her bottom frantically, while the reddening marks spread over the white escuthcheon of her flawless jouncy, tempting behind: "Ouchoohhh, oh, Daddy-oooh, that stings so-I'll be a good girl-oh please-I'll be so good-awrrrr-oh Daddy!"
"So you're beginning to feel it at last are you, Betty girl?" he huskily asked. His right palm caressed her naked, now stridently marked bottom-cheeks, found them palpitating and shivering under his touch. His left hand edged along her side to feel the outer curve of her mashed-down tittie against the soft damask cover of the bed. He had put a huge Turkish towel under her for their fuck, without removing the cover-it was an idiosyncrasy of his and one he had often used with Myrna. To get entangled in the sheets and to rumple them when he later would sleep in them was something alien to his fastidious nature. And the scratchy roughness of the towel helped, Myrna had often told him, to get her even more randy. And Betty McDonald was proving the same theory in his own delicious, lithe-agile way.
"Would you like to do this to Diane, baby?" he suddenly put it to her as he lifted up his right hand and gave her a good hard spank on the lower summit of her right ass-cheek.
"Ouch-oh I certainly would, Daddy! I'd just love to tan her ass for her, see if I wouldn't But that's just a daydream, and you know it is."
"I wouldn't be so sure, Betty. Stranger things than that can happen. But I'm asking you, if I put you in position to tan her ass, as you so succinctly put it, do you think you could do a thorough job? Could you make her cry and beg for mercy, agree to do anything at all, even lick your toes and kiss your hand and thank you for the spanking?"
"I'd just love that-my goodness, Greg, if you put me in the way of that, I'd just about do anything you liked, I mean it. I suppose there's a certain chemistry between people, but whatever it is in her sort of rouses the beast in me, if you know what I mean." She dropped her hands from her face and turned it back over her lovely shoulder to stare at him quizzically. He saw that her face was flushed, her eyes wide and humid and that there were even tears in them. His prick was now prodding her lower belly and cunt-hairs agitatedly, wanting entrance to that tight warm humid cleft of hers. But this time it was going to be even more enjoyable, even more prolonged, till he would drain himself of his very last drop of gism and feel himself sucked up by the hungry, tightening and clenching maw of that seething twat of hers.
"That's all I wanted to know, Betty," he said with a chuckle. "You might just get the chance. And now to conclude your well deserved chastisement. I'm going to teach you to be a really good girl, believe me I am!"
And with this he began to spank her in earnest. Alternating on the saucy, resilient and now extremely reddened globes of her firm, enticing young ass, Gregson Torrance brought his hand down like a semaphore, falling abruptly and quickly and harshly, stinging all over the naked posterior as Betty, pressing her palms down on the cover of the bed, lifted up her face and stared out of the bay window, her eyes very wide and blurred with tears, her lips parted, her teeth chattering, her nostrils twitching and shrinking. Her hips jerked now at every spank, and her muffled gasps and "Ohhhs" and "Ahhhhs" filled the bedroom with their lascivious music of pseudo-martyrdom. And with each new contortion, with each new groan, with each new squirming peroration of her reddened ass, Gregson Torrance felt his manhood savagely restored, swept back over the years till he was supremely young and tirelessly virile once again.
At last he stopped, and he heard her sobbing and he saw her legs kick up and down, and her bottom weave frantically and uncontrollably. "Now do you think you can be good and do what I tell you to?" he panted.
"Ohh-oh yes-I will-anything you want-oh Daddy, my poor bummy hurts so-I'll be the bestest girl you ever had, just tell me what to do and I'll do it," she groaned.
"All right, young lady. Get on your knees then and bow your head and suck my cock," he commanded.
"Oh I will! I want to, anyway!" she breathed.
She wriggled off his lap and, one hand rubbing her furiously reddened behind, knelt down before him like a slave. And at that moment he saw in his mind's eye Diane Wilson humbled thus and equally forced to a degradation which for her would be a complete nadir of shame and loathing and revulsion. He felt the soft trembling lips and then Betty McDonald brushed the tip of aching whang, and her other hand caressed his inner thighs. He groaned and leaned his head back against the pillows, as she went on. Delicately now her tongue furled down his gnarled shaft, and now her right hand returned to abet his stimulus. With the tips of her delicate fingers, she traced patterns of evocative lust-arousal along the scrotum and the balls, while her tongue paraded now bare and then up to the meatus. Exquisitively and imaginatively she prodded the tip of her tongue against the urethral lips whence his spunk flowed, as if she would gouge out the nectured lust-lava, his very essence.
And then suddenly she raised her face, her eyes sparkling, and muttered huskily, "Do you want me to blow you all the way, darling, or do you want me to get on top of you and fuck hell out of you? You just name it, because you've got yourself a little slavegirl as well as a pretty good secretary if I do say so myself."
"Get on top of me and take it all away, you sweet bitch," he mouthed, reaching for her.
Betty McDonald gave a knowing little laugh, and then moved forward on her bare knees. Fitting her moist quim against the tip of his agonized, stiff ramrod, she slowly sank down, her fingertips tickling his paps, until she had impaled herself to his very balls. Then she slowly stretched out over him, and his-legs locked round her sweet, sinuous white calves, and then her reddened, stinging and still smarting bottom began to move in a rhythmic undulation as she taught him the sweet initiative of usurpation, taking the role of the male and herself setting the tempo of this glorious and prolonged fuck.
And when at last she quickened herself, greeting him with flurried little cries and groans to "Oh give it to me now, oh shoot it up into my cunt, Daddy," he knew that he had found at last the perfect other mistress who would complement Myrna Johnson's primeval passions and provide him between the two of them with all the delights of a harem ... to which not long from now would be added the most magnificent salve of all, the haughty bitch-virgin Diane Wilson.