Chapter 7
When Clara woke up it was almost evening. The sun was setting and she stood at the window while the sky turned from flame red to bright pink to milky lavender to palest silvery gray. Then, as the colors darkened, she began to dress. She put on a princess gown-with pink lace setting off its white chiffon loveliness at her throat and at the hem-stepped into pink pumps and wandered out into the hall and past several bedrooms to which the doors stood invitingly ajar. But it was a room at the very end of the corridor, whose door was firmly shut, that Clara finally entered. She had knocked timidly, waited for a moment, then tried the door. It opened, and she found herself inside a room more than twice the size of all the others on the floor.
The room was sumptuously furnished in green and black: pale green wallpaper, black fur rug, green velvet drapes covering a window which was set into the small, L-shaped alcove at the far end of the room. The main feature was obviously the bed, which stood on a dais in the exact center of the chamber. It was huge--at least one and a half times the size of an ordinary double bed-and its black satin cover accentuated its enormity, as did the green velvet canopy which hung over it, supported by four black-veined green marble posts.
Clara crossed the room slowly and ascended the marble steps which led to the colossal love-couch. She peered up at the canopy: her own face peered back at her, reflected in the mirror which was very cleverly inlaid into the pale green sateen lining of the canopy. Whoever had designed this room hadn't missed a trick.
She hastily quitted the dais and went into the reshaped alcove. Suddenly, Clara was not alone in the room. While she had been standing by the window, hidden by the thick velvet drapes, a man and a girl had entered. Clara stood stock still, as though she were rooted to the spot, and remained there, protected from sight by the curtain, which was hung in such a way as to afford anyone standing in the alcove a perfect view of the bed. Unaware of their captive audience behind the curtain, the two players in the comedy that was about to unfold prepared to speak their opening lines.
The girl was about six years older than Clara and very pretty, with honey blonde hair which fell gracefully about her shoulders. The man appeared to be about thirty, and in a lean, dark way was as handsome as the girl was pretty. Both of them were slightly out of breath, as if they had been running before their entrance into the room.
"Close the door," the girl said. "And you'd better lock it." She was wearing a white skirt and a white sweater with a red fleece college letter sewed on to it. She removed a black leather belt from her waist, then pulled the sweater over her head.
The weave of the wool had left its mark on her bare breasts. She rubbed them briskly with her palms. The man came up behind her and began to fondle her breasts, saying: "You know you don't have to do that when I'm around."
She laughed, and he suddenly lifted her, still wearing her skirt and stockings and shoes, and carried her to the bed. She laughed again, and he began to strip, while she slipped out of her skirt in one quick, graceful motion. "I knew you weren't wearing anything under your trousers," she said. "I could see the shape of your penis right through the fabric."
"You were looking at it, were you?"
"Of course I was-and at every other man's, too. I was wondering how much longer I could last without a man inside of me."
"It hasn't hurt you to wait," her companion grinned. He took off her shoes, studied her for a moment, then put them back on. "You look more like the filthy bitch you are when you keep them on," he smiled tightly.
"I am a filthy bitch, aren't I?" she asked, smiling back. "What's more, next time I won't wait. I'll go and have a ball with whoever wants me."
"You're getting next time mixed up with last time. Last time you didn't wait"
"Aw, Roy, there were only three of them. And the whole three of them together didn't please me as much as you could have."
"But you liked it enough to ask them for a second round-and a third."
"That was just because I was so excited." She took his shaft in her hands as he lay down beside her. 'You know how excited I get when strange men make love to me-especially when there are more than two."
The man felt between the girl's legs as she spread them wide. Then the couple's bodies curled toward each other, heels to head. They kissed each other's bellies.
The girl rubbed the man's organ gently, holding it between the palms of her hands. Then she began to rub it harder, licking the tip.
"Are you going to let Hanley make love to you any more?" the man asked her.
"Yep."
"I thought I told you not to let him anymore."
"I know you did, but I'm going to let him anyway." The man made an exclamation, and the girl quickly jumped from the bed. "Wait, wait," she cried. She ran across the room to the spot where she had discarded her belt. Swiftly she snatched up the black leather strap and ran back to the bed, flinging herself down and handing the belt to the man simultaneously. "Go ahead," she cried, "beat me, beat the daylights out of me.
She rolled over onto her stomach, throwing her legs open so that her sex gaped widely between them, waiting for him to strike. The leather hissed and bit into the skin of her back and loins. She quivered and laughed. The belt fell again-across her loins and buttocks this time-and, where it had fallen, half a dozen red lines appeared. Her buttocks trembled.
Now the man began to apply all of his strength to the beating. The girl laughed loudly, and the laugh was the clear laugh of actual pleasure, not the uncontrolled shrilling of hysteria. "Harder," she begged. "Beat me harder!"
The request was obeyed. Time after time the lash whistled through the air and landed on her tender white skin. Welts rose on her back and buttocks, and, on the first welts, other welts, at crazy angles to the first ones. "Now ask me if I'm going to let Hanley have me," the girl exclaimed.
"Are you?" he roared.
"YES. I AM!" She laughed again, and he whipped her wildly, lashing her thighs and her calves, and even letting the blows fall between her legs.
The lash cut the tender parts, and bood suddenly appeared. At the sight of it, the man's member, which had been standing rigidly out and erect all the time, suddenly began to spurt and he stopped lashing for a moment. The girl whirled and flung her arms around his waist, lapping up the fluid as it spurted and getting it all over her face. Then she rolled over again-on her back now-and spread her legs, begging him to beat her on the breasts and between her legs. She opened and closed her grotto with both hands as she waited for him to recover from the effects of his orgasm and beat her some more.
After a minute, he resumed his whipping, but concentrating his blows on her belly and thighs. "I'm going to let Hanley take me," the girl cried, "and you can't whip it out of me! I want my bottom whipped some more." She rolled over and propped herself up on her knees and elbows, dropping her head and jutting her buttocks out. He slashed at the twin targets until they bled. The gleaming red liquid came down along the welts in little rivulets and slowly dripped onto the satin bedcover.
The girl kept her face buried in a pillow, while her hands involuntarily clutched at her own hair. Finally, she fell prone and writhed wildly as the beating rose to a climax.
"Oh, oh," she cried. I'll spend right now if you don't stop!"
"Are you going to let Hanley make love to you?" His voice was like thunder, his face a cloud.
The girl's answer shrilled like lightning: "Yes! Yes, I'm going to let Hanley make love to me. And anybody else that wants me. Go on and beat me. When I reach my climax I'll pretend Hanley is inside me and some stranger has his prick in my mouth!"
She thrust both her thumbs into her mouth and began to suck them noisily, while her hips wriggled and writhed wildly. The man flung the belt aside and threw himself on top of her, levering over and vaulting between her legs. She threw her legs high and dropped them on his shoulders, her body bent in half like a jack-knife. Their arms and legs tangled and they both began to laugh. The man's weapon drove into its target through the blood that was already clotted in the hair, and her buttocks became wet and shiny with love-juice as the big sword jabbed in and out of its sheath.
They remained locked together for less than a minute before the man's body began to jerk spasmodically and the girl dropped one leg to encircle his waist, bucking him high in the air with almost demonic strength as she screamed that she was coming to a climax. Then the man disengaged his limbs from the woman's and they both sprang off the bed, seemingly more energetic than they had been when they entered the room.
The man took a corner of the green velvet drapery which hung down from the canopy and wiped the blood and sweat from the girl's back and buttocks. Then they raced to get into their clothes, while the girl laughingly commented on how funny the man's buttocks had looked in the canopy mirror as they jolloped up and down while he was making love to her. The pair finished dressing and left the room in the same manner in which they had entered it-on the run.
As soon as the couples footsteps faded, Clara also quit the room. As she started to descend the stairs, she met Mrs. Mason.
"Why, hello, Clara," chirruped the hostess. "How are you getting along? Are you all right? You look a little pale."
"Hello, Blanca. Yes, I'm fine, thank you. I was just wondering about dinner."
"Dinner? Why I believe there are some people eating now. Join them if you like their looks. We eat anytime here. The kitchen is well-stocked, I believe. Somebody flew in some trout from the mountains just today. They're delicious. Or have some man cook a plate for you. Get one of the girlish-looking men. They're all marvelous chefs. And you'll find plenty of them to choose from."
She paused with her fine, white hand on Clara's shoulder and stroked the girl's silky black curls. "My, you really are pretty, aren't you?" she asked. She squeezed Clara's arm and went on, "Well, if you're only hungry you won't need me." And she continued up the stairs.