Chapter 11

Marie took us from the Room of Gentle Restraints to an elaborate gym. "Top physical conditioning is very important to us in our profession," she explained in response to the wide-eyed look of surprise Laura and I gave the room. But we quickly discovered she hadn't taken us there for a workout. We followed her into another room opening off the gym and found there a big sauna bath, a steam room adjoining, and a Roman bath as large as a small swimming pool.

I stooped and dipped a finger into the water, expecting to find it warm; instead it was freezing.

Marie chuckled at my startled look. "It's refrigerated," she explained.

"Refrigerated?" I exclaimed. "Why?"

"To pull the water temp down almost to freezing," she told me. "But why?" I insisted. "So you can do like the Finns and other Scandinavians do at their rural bathhouses."

"Do what like they do?"

"First steam yourself in the sauna or steam room until you look like a lobster," Marie explained, "then run and jump into the icy water and splash around a minute or two before you have your rubdown."

"That's complete insanity!" Laura exclaimed, expressing my sentiments exactly.

"You'd be amazed how sexy it leaves you feeling," Marie said. "Practically all Scandinavian people practice it in one form or another. Of course, they usually don't have this kind of convenience, particularly in rural areas."

"I don't want to hear about it," Laura declared.

But Marie kept on as if she hadn't heard. "They have to break a big hole through perhaps two feet of ice over the water of a river or lake. Then they all go into the bathhouse and sit around steaming themselves, men, women, and children, all together, all bare-assed nude."

I said, "If they'd get smart and leave the kids at home, that sounds like it could get real sexy."

Laura chimed in, "I'll bet it can get sexy even with all the kids right there. That's probably why someone came up with the idea of jumping into cold water, to keep it from turning into an orgy. I'll bet that may even be where the expression about throwing cold water came from."

"Anyhow," Marie went on, "they race from their steaming bathhouse into below zero weather outside and jump through the hole in the ice into that freezing water."

"Just think how many hundred thousands of beautiful masculine hards that must have completely wilted," Laura wailed, "That's real sadism or masochism!"

"That's real insanity!" I exclaimed.

"It probably originated as a primitive method of birth control," Laura suggested with a giggle.

"It's really not all that bad with all the comfort and convenience we have here," Marie insisted. Turning to Uncle Malcolm she proposed, "Come on, Malcolm, let's show these two sissies."

He nodded. "Whatever you say, fearless leader." Marie gave him a half frown, half smile, protesting, "Don't you start that!" Then she pointed to a big shower stall, glancing at Laura and me, suggesting, "You two can be square and conventional and wash off the perspiration in there, if you want to, while Malcom and I get steamed."

Fifteen minutes later Laura and I had finished our shower so long before we'd almost forgotten about it. I, for one, had begun wondering if Marie and Uncle Malcolm had sneaked out somewhere and left us there like two snipe hunters.

Then the steam room door flew open abruptly and Marie appeared from the cloud of steam that came billowing out. She was beet red all over. Tits swinging, she sprinted to the Roman bath and jumped into the freezing water. Just watching it made me cringe. Right on her heels came Uncle Malcolm, just as lobsterlike all over as Marie. He went into the cold water with an even greater splash than she'd raised. I expected them both to have heart failure, turn stiff as boards, sink to the bottom, and drown. But an instant later they both surfaced, gasping, teeth chattering. The lobster look was entirely gone, leaving Marie's skin a creamy white and Uncle Malcolm's looking like it belonged to a marble statue.

Laura and I grabbed big towels and ran to help them climb from the freezing water. I happened to draw Uncle Malcolm. I began rubbing him down as he walked shivering to a nearby table. He grabbed a towel and began drying his hair while I toweled off his legs and lower belly. His penis had shriveled up into little more than a soft thumb of flesh, the head of it a purplish-blue from the cold, I guess.

Impulsively I bent over it and kissed it. I giggled at the little gasp that brought out of Uncle. He stood frozen for a moment, both hands still holding the towel to his head, neither of them moving. As if surprised, I said, "You felt that!"

Uncle nodded, then murmured, "He may look frozen to death, but you could thaw him out real fast if you decided to give him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation."

"Would you enjoy that?" I asked coyly.

"Why don't we experiment, find out?" he pro- posed.

"That won't violate your promise to the boss lady?" I asked.

"I'll risk it," he murmured. One of his hands came down from his head to cup one of my naked boobs gently. "Sweet Trina," he said in a husky whisper, you look delectable."

I let my knees hinge, sinking toward the floor. His hand lowered with me, continuing to firmly cup my tit, his thumb and forefinger caressing the nipple between them. When my mouth was level with his shriveled cock, I discovered it no longer was quite so shriveled; it was starting to show signs of renewed interest in life. I stuck out my tongue and gave Uncle a drooling lick, starting at the bottom of his balls and ending at the purplish-blue tip of his reviving cock. For an instant he shook like a chill had hit him. I closed my lips around the head of it. As I started sucking it, I teased the sensitive underside with the tip of my tongue. I felt his cock begin to swell in my mouth like a balloon being inflated. A gusty gasp exploded from Uncle Malcolm. I pulled away instantly, releasing him from my mouth, and looked up to ask innocently, "Did I hurt you?"

"If you did, please hurt me some more," he said tightly.

I glanced back at his cock. I was amazed to find it had more than doubled in size in just those few seconds and was still ballooning. As if reading my mind, he said, "Something about you shoves my blood pressure right off the scale."

I started to suck it back into my mouth, his obvious rekindling of excitement beginning to create a new buzz in me. Before my mouth touched his cock again, Uncle Malcolm caught me under the other armpit with his other hand, leaving the towel draped upon his head. He raised me until I stood straight before him. He suggested, "Why don't we make this an ex-perience of mutual pleasure?

I enjoy just giving you pleasure," I told him.

He countered, "But you'll enjoy it even more if I'm doing something to you too that creates pleasure."

As if to prove his point, he drew the fingertips of both hands forward from my armpits along my mannary glands. I was amazed to feel a rising tide of sensation being created throughout the rest of my full breasts, filling them with an electric tingling. My nipples were suddenly like two tiny male cocks, rigid with anticipation. And that anticipation skyrocketed the voltage of the sensations.

Before those caressing fingertips reached my nipples, already aching for their touch, he stopped their forward movement. I was ready to protest, but went mute when he again touched my breasts just under my armpits. He started another long, slow forward stroke along the swelling fullness of my breasts. The closer those caressing fingertips approached to my arching nipples, the more electrifying became the flood of sensation surging out of my breasts and down into my crotch. Suddenly my clitoris was burning with excitement. The lips and inner surfaces of my whole cunt were oozing with its slippery sweat of excitement.

Uncle Malcolm's magic fingertips bunched closely, nearing my tingling nipples. Thumb and forefinger on each side closed upon my nipples and began gently pulling them. I realized abruptly that my response to him was strangely intense and amazingly rapid. Something about him was shoving my blood pressure up off the scale, too. He sensed it and gave me a pleased smile. He asked, "Isn't that a lot better?"

I nodded mutely, then remembered how this had started and glanced down at his cock; it was standing proudly at attention. Uncle Malcolm noticed my glance and chuckled, explaining, "Nothing revives my sexual capacity faster than the stimulating sight of a beautiful young nymph like you responding to my caresses. That's the greatest aphrodisiac I've ever found. It does something magical to the male ego that makes the penis swell with pride, even sometimes when I don't really want it to."

Marie spoke up, declaring, "This may be a great place to take a bath, but this floor's not my idea of an ideal place to make love. Why don't we adjourn to my apartment? There's soft carpet on the floor. Even a big bed, if you want to use it."

"Good idea!" Uncle Malcolm exclaimed. He grabbed my hand. "Come on!"

"What about our clothes?" I protested as he hurried me toward the nearest door.

He pretended to misunderstand, declaring, "Clothes only get in your way when you're enjoying the fun and games we have scheduled. We won't need them until later."

We went tripping down a long hallway from the gym to Marie's personal apartment without running into any other patrons of the exotic establishment. The possibility of such an encounter seemed to only heighten my excitement. By the time the door of Marie's apartment closed behind us, I was burning with desire to be fucked. Not licked or sucked or fingered. Not even the sophisticated substitute of silk and velvet whipping in restraint would satisfy my craving. I felt a deep, gut-aching need to be treated to the joys of an old-fashioned fucking.

I gripped Uncle Malcolm's rigid cock gently but firmly, like it was a handle, and turned him to me there just inside the door. "I want you in me," I whispered. "I've had everything else except a good old-fashioned fuck, but that's what I really need. I haven't had a fuck since I left Wyoming and I've stood it as long as I can. Won't you--"

"I promised not to!" Uncle Malcolm interrupted.

"Your friend'll never know," I protested.

He chuckled with a wry expression. "That's what you may think. She has every move we've made on magnetic video tape."

"What?" I screeched.

He nodded. "Closed circuit TV cameras every- where. We'll see some of it later. Anything you do here is like putting on a performance in a fishbowl."

"Good Lord," I gasped, "what about blackmail?"

"That's the whole idea," he told me calmly. "What?"

He nodded. "A very limited or selective kind of blackmail. No one can talk about what goes on up here without inviting personal exposure with motion pictures and soundtract to render a denial impossible. Consequently, in all the years since the lady started this business, not one client or even a one-time visitor has ever breathed a word to anyone outside about its existence."

"Good Lord, where's my clothes?" I demanded. "I'm no exhibitionist! I can't enjoy sex in a fishbowl! Let's get out of here and find a nice motel where we can do whatever we want to without anyone taking pictures."

"I have a beach house and private beach above Malibu that will do far better for that purpose than a motel," Uncle Malcolm told me. "But let's not rush it."

"Rush it hell!" I snapped at him. "I can't get back into my clothes fast enough. I don't even like having candid pictures taken of me when I'm dressed."

I suddenly realized I still held him by his rigid cock; I jerked my hand away like it felt red-hot. I glanced around guiltily, searching for the gleaming eye of one of those damned hidden cameras.

"What about our little party?" Uncle Malcolm asked, disappointment in his low voice.