Chapter 3
Linda never knew how long she remained prostrate upon the pillowed kitchen table after the departure of Carole and Charlie. The whirling tumult of her frenzied thoughts hammered at her dazed brain: surely a girl had never been so unspeakably humiliated and abased. She felt mortified beyond words.
She stirred herself to movement when despite the nagging burning-smart in her poor bottom her thighs felt chilled. Linda passed a hand behind her cautiously and placed it upon a hindcheek. She moaned piteously when she felt the hot, roughened, pebbled surface which had replaced her usually silky-smooth buttock-skin.
Linda raised her head with an effort and brought both hands forward to brace herself preparatory to rising. She pushed herself upward and gave a soft little howl as the movement jerked muscles beneath the surface of her spanked rump. She persisted, however, until most of her weight rested upon her legs whose trembling threatened to refuse to support her. Linda clutched the end of the table and held on, breathing deeply.
Directly below her eyes was that portion of the pillow upon which her stomach had been resting. Linda's gaze widened as she saw-the unmistakably wide damp spot upon the pillow. There was no longer any doubt about it; incredibly, in the midst of that dreadful spanking she had somehow come more copiously even than when induced by the artful tongue and mouth of Helen Dickinson. Linda averted her eyes quickly in acutely embarrassed distress.
She tested her legs gingerly and found that they would support her weight. She wobbled into the bedroom, clutching at any support. She opened the closet door, disclosing the pier-glass, then turned on the light. Immediately she turned around and looked over her shoulder to see her spanked behind.
She moaned aloud in a muted burst of panic as she saw the rose-pink, scarified-looking hind cushions. She put both hands behind her and gently laved the hot-looking surfaces with her palms. She had to admit that the flaming burn of the immediately-after-hairbrush-descent had already departed in favor of a lower-keyed smarting sensitivity which somehow seemed to have spread well beneath the surface.
Linda bestirred herself again and went into the bathroom. She squatted above the toilet, unable to force herself to bring her sore behind into contact with the wooden seat, and directed a torrential stream into the bowl. Her pee seemed to go on and on and on. She raised herself painfully and bent over the tub and turned on the hot water, the movement forcing another gasping yowl from her lips as fresh muscles pulled under her tautly stretched spanking-area.
She mopped at her teary face with a towel and shuffled tiredly into the living room en route to the door to put on the chain latch. She paused in mid-stride; the devilish Carole had left the recently used hairbrush centered upon the living room table.
Drawn despite herself, Linda picked it up gingerly. It was unbelievable that such an innocent-looking object could create such furnace-heat that it turned a girl into a mindless animal. Linda stroked its smooth-backed surface timidly; in her mind's eye she visioned its smarting descent upon her own upturned nudity, and she shivered.
Impulsively she thrust it under her nose and sniffed at it, curious if any of her own effluvia clung to the hard wood. Then ashamed of the thought, even, she thrust the hairbrush away from her and continued on to lock the bathroom, she eased herself gently into the steaming water, whimpering when her buttocks touched down despite the towel she had placed to cushion herself.
Immersed to her breasts, she relaxed with a long, tremulous sigh. The hot water was wonderfully soothing; its heat seemed somehow to draw off the heat in her flesh. She stared unseeingly at the white bathroom wall while the events of the past hour ran through her mind like the re-run of a recently seen movie. She cringed internally at the spectacle she knew she must have presented to mockingly searching eyes.
She stayed in the tub until the hot water turned cool, then climbed out, her movements much less inhibited. There was no full-length mirror in the bathroom for her to see herself as she patted herself dry. She washed her face at the sink, scrubbing at her reddened eyes. Then she returned to the bedroom and immediately presented her nude backside to the pier-glass again.
She was surprised to see how much the scarlet globes had faded. Most of the spanked portion was now reduced to a light coral-pink. Linda pressed her fingertips to the surface lightly and found them only slightly tender to the touch. She was still aware of heat in her behind, but it now seemed to be interior heat. She still felt like dancing no fandango, however.
She went into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator door, looked in irresolutely, then closed it again. She didn't feel like eating. And she certainly didn't feel like going out. The kitchen table caught her eye. The pillow, mute witness to her awful degradation, still rested upon its surface. Linda picked it up and without thinking passed it under her nose as she had the hairbrush. She thrust it hurriedly away from her as the unmistakable odor of her own spend was wafted to her nose. Her face turned scarlet. "What can you be thinking of?" she murmured to herself as she returned to the bedroom.
She changed the pillowcase and turned down the bed. Without bothering with a nightgown, she slipped nude under the top sheet and stretched out on her right side. With her left hand she reached behind her to stroke soothingly the uppermost hind cheek which no longer felt pebble-grained but seemed to be fast returning to its pristine condition.
Evidently a girl's behind is a much tougher object than it looks, Linda thought, still caressing herself gently.
Now if she could just rest for an hour she might feel almost up to par.
Cradling her left breast in her right palm, she closed her eyes.
And slept.
Morning sunlight was streaming in the window when Linda woke. She stared at it in disbelief. She had slept the whole night through! Slept like a baby! Memory of the previous afternoon's events rushed over her like a flood; she blushed furiously as she passed a hand behind herself and tentatively explored her bare bottom.
She couldn't believe it when she felt no pain. She swung herself from the bed and padded to the pier-glass. Bright sunlight illuminated her reflected hind cheeks with such crystal clarity that individual little hairs showed on the sleek surfaces which appeared as naturally alabaster-white as before the spanking. Only by the closest scrutiny was Linda able to observe the merest trace of shadowy subcutaneous marks where the hairbrush if wielded any harder might have created bruises.
Linda bent down exploratively and touched her toes. There was a pulling sensation in her backside, but no pain. She went into the bathroom and sat down on the seat gingerly. Again, there was sensitivity, but no pain. She couldn't get over it. Linda was sure she had received a much harder than average spanking, yet visible and tangible aftermaths appeared to be negligible. Truly, a girl's bottom was a resilient article.
She went into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator door, and as she had the previous evening, closed it again. She felt ravenous, but she didn't feel like fussing with breakfast. She'd dress and walk to the restaurant on the comer and have scrambled eggs. Or perhaps French toast.
Linda returned to the bedroom and dressed. Her only concession to the previous day was in not putting on her panty-girdle. Instead, she encased her plump hips in lace-edged pink panties, surveying the result in the mirror. Her bottom certainly wasn't swollen, but her hip area felt larger-than-life somehow. Probably just because I can't get out of my mind what happened yesterday, Linda thought. She examined with approval the snugly fitting panties clasping her crotch revealingly, then finished dressing in what she called her week-end clothes since it was Saturday morning.
She picked up her handbag in the hallway and walked down the stairs. It was a beautifully clear morning, and she breathed deeply of the summery air. She felt almost lighthearted as she walked to the restaurant. Eventually she was going to have to give thought to Carole, she supposed. Should she tell Annette? Did she want to tell Annette about her humiliation? And if she did tell her it would undoubtedly lead to further complications. There might be a better way. She put it out of her mind altogether for the time being.
The scrambled eggs tasted as good as she had hoped, and Linda lingered over a second cup of coffee. The sunlight streaming through the restaurant window made her feel pleasantly drowsy despite her many hours of sleep. She roused herself finally and walked back to her apartment. She removed last night's newspaper from the box and climbed the stairs.
She unlocked the apartment door, humming to herself. Should she call Helen Dickinson and see what Helen had on the docket for the weekend? Linda couldn't understand why she felt so well. After yesterday she had expected to be sore and lame for days. She wished she could tell Helen about the sensation of the spanking without going into the shame of it. She was sure that Helen, always avid for new sensations, would get a kick out of it.
Still carrying the newspaper, she walked into the living room. Perhaps she really should call Helen. Perhaps She stopped in mid-stride.
Her heart fluttered in near-panic.
It was like seeing the same movie twice.
Almost.
Except that this time instead of Carole and Charlie sitting in her living room awaiting her entrance, there was Charlie and three boys she had never seen before. Her shocked gaze went from Charlie's thick-thatched blond hair and handsome face, as he lay sprawled on the couch, to the newcomers. As she looked, one boy, apparently much younger than the others, rose from his chair and sidled to a position between Linda and the hallway, effectively barring her from the telephone.
Her heart thudded loudly in her chest.
Charlie broke the pregnant silence. "Wonder-in' how we got in?" he asked genially. "Easy. When Carole gimme the key yesterday to check out who was in the buildin', I slipped around the comer an' had a duplicate made." He grinned at Linda comfortably. "You know I just had a feelin' it might come in handy sometime. Like before you had time to change the door lock."
One of the other boys snickered, and Linda tried to get a grip on herself. Don't panic, she thought. That's what they want. That's what they expect. "Wh-what do you want?" she asked. She heard the tremor in her voice and despised herself for it. The way to handle these animals was to hold her head high and admit no possibility of the purpose she felt sure was behind their visit.
"I thought we'd drop by and check on the condition of your ass," Charlie explained easily. "In case it needed any attention." He smiled, and the same boy snickered again.
Linda glared in the direction of the snicker. The boy, a nondescript scruffy-looking type, returned her look coolly. Sitting silently in another comer was a dark, good-looking boy who hadn't said a word. Linda felt panic returning. Good God, she thought wildly, is yesterday to become common knowledge around town? She'd be a laughing-stock. She might lose her job. She Uncannily, Charlie read her mind. "No one's gonna know a thing except us," he said soothingly. His clean-cut handsome face broke into another sunny smile. "If you're nice to us."
Linda's hands started to tremble. "N-nice?" she said tensely.
"Yeah." Charlie rose from the couch and approached Linda. It took every bit of willpower she possessed not to retreat. "I forgot you haven't met the boys," he continued. He waved a hand at the younger boy in the doorway. "That's Mousie." The boy grinned, a grin both sheepish and excited.
"An' that's Carl." Charlie pointed to the snickerer. "An' Edmondo." To Linda's surprise the good-looking dark boy rose from his chair and made her a polite little bow.
Linda's throat felt dry. "What do you really w-want?" she asked. Despite her best effort it came out as a whisper.
"I told you," Charlie said patiently in the manner of one explaining matters to a backward child. "You took a real whalin' yesterday, right? Mebbe you need your butt cold-creamed, right? To get it back in shape again. No reason at all why we can't take care of it for you."
Linda looked from the grinning Mousie to the staring Carl to the quiet Edmondo and finally back to the hulking Charlie. He was close enough to her now that his unwashed odor again filled her nostrils. "That's not really what you want," Linda said quietly.
Charlie rubbed his chin. "Well, no." he agreed. "Let's say it's part of it. I really didn't get to see as much of you yesterday as I would've liked. I really would like to cold-cream your butt. An' then-"
"Yes?" Linda asked despite herself when he paused.
"Why then I reckon we'd like to fuck you," he drawled.
She flinched as though from a blow. The pit of her stomach felt hollow. She didn't feel the panic she had felt at first sight of the group; her inspection of the other members of the quartet had induced a numbing sense of helplessness.
Charlie had been watching her reaction. "That's the girl," he said approvingly. "No hysterics, right?" His voice lowered and took on a sing-song quality. "You're pretty girl, right? Beautiful, even. Gorgeous. Ever seen what brass knucks do to a pretty girl's face?" He smiled. "Teeth splintered. Face all lumpy. For months. Mebbe permanent. Mebbe an eye gone. Or a crooked nose." His steady stare impaled Linda. She felt almost hypnotized by the light blue eyes and the sing-song voice. Charlie continued without looking around. "Show her the knucks, Carl."
Linda didn't look in that direction, but even so she half-saw, half-sensed the glint of light on metal. Her throat had dried up completely. She could feel a quivering in the backs of her knees. She tried desperately to swallow and couldn't.
Charlie smiled at her again. "But we're not gonna have any trouble, are we, sugar?" he went on in the same crooning tone. "We understand each other, right?" He waited a moment. "Right?"
Linda forced her voice past her dried-up throat. It sounded husky and unrecognizable. "I know I can't f-fight you," she got out in a voice she tried desperately to make steady. "And I don't want to be h-hurt, naturally." She wet her lips. Was this actually happening? But she had only to look at the greedy-eyed stares of the four boys. "May I-may I say something?"
Charlie swept his arm around in a large gesture that included the universe. "You got the floor, sugar," he declared grandiosely. "Speak up."
Linda searched for words. "Why me?" It burst from her throat before she realized was going to speak. She hurried on, afraid she was going to burst into tears. "I've done n-nothing to you. Why do you want to do this thing to me?"
"You drew bad cards, sugar." Charlie's tone was not unkind. He was stating a fact, Linda thought miserably. "It just worked out that you're the cute li'l rabbit in the big ol' trap. An' you wouldn't expect us to pass up a dee-licious li'l honey-nugget like you, now would you?" The big blond boy made it sound like the most reasonable thing in the world.
"There's been too goddam much talk around here." Carl declared from his comer. "How about a little action?"
"You see how it is, sugar," Charlie declared to Linda. He smiled at her. "How you want it? Hard or easy?"
Linda tried to speak past the lump in her throat. She had to swallow twice. "Ea-easy," she whispered. Her hands felt like ice.
"Now that's a smart girl," Charlie approved. "Ain't gonna be a thing happen to you ain't happened to a zillion fee-males since man took to walkin' on his hind legs. You c'mon out into the kitchen, sugar. I still got a hankerin' to cold-cream your ass."
He extended his hand and held it out in front of Linda until she reluctantly put hers into it.
His hand closed on hers, not hard, but firmly. She panicked at the feeling of strength in his easy grip. For a fleeting instant she thought of pulling away, of fleeing, but where? And then she thought of the cold shine of the brass knucks which had been returned to Carl's pocket.
Charlie drew Linda in the direction of the kitchen. "Bring a pillow from the bed, Mousie," he directed. "I told you guys I was gonna show you somethin', an' here comes the preview."
Linda stumbled along behind Charlie, her hand still locked in his. In the kitchen Mousie handed Charlie a pillow. Charlie placed it on the table in the same position as the previous day. The others crowded into the small space and stood expectantly. Charlie turned to Linda. "Unbutton it, sugar, an' hoist it up there. You're among friends."
Two big tears overflowed the comers of Linda's eyes and ran down her cheeks. She wiped at them angrily with the back of her hand. "I'm s-sorry," she said. "It's jjust that I'm-that I'm upset." Am I crazy, she wondered? What am I doing apologizing to this-this beast? But she didn't want to stir the banked fires she sensed behind his easy-going smile.
Charlie turned to Mousie again. "Look for the cold cream in her medicine cabinet." He returned his attention to Linda. "Don't sweat it, girl. What's the strain? Four stiff pricks to a healthy type like you isn't as bad as a mornin's wash. Now get it up on the table, right?"
His voice had risen slightly and Linda could see a different set to his still-smiling mouth. Would she feel any more virtuous afterward if she made them rip her out of her clothes, she thought despairingly? Seemingly of their own accord her hands went to the three snaps at the neck of her dress in back and unfastened them.
"That's the girl," Charlie said for the second time.
She barely heard him. Mousie had returned to the kitchen and silently handed Charlie a jar of cold cream. His eyes were locked on Linda. She tried to shut the whole room from her mind. Pretend you're alone, she told herself fiercely as she groped for the hem of her dress. Pretend you're alone.
Once started, she accomplished it quickly. One smooth flowing motion and her dress came off over her head and was draped over the back of a chair. Her slip followed, and Linda stepped closer to the table. She plucked the elasticized waistband of her lace-edged pink panties free and pulled the panties down her trembling legs while she dropped face down upon the pillow, scarcely daring to breathe.
Two soft whistles blended behind her. She didn't turn her head to see who the whistlers were. "Didn't I tell you?" she heard Charlie say proudly. "Ain't that a rump like a thoroughbred mare's?" He stepped up beside Linda and bent down to study the subject at close range. His voice sounded surprised when he spoke again. "Say, you really bleached out overnight, didn't you, sugar? Can't hardly see a thing. You guys should've seen this ass yesterday. Talk about a flamin' sunset, she really had one."
"May we ought to heat it up again a little," Carl suggested. "She looks chilly."
"Now I don't see no call for that," Charlie declared. "Long as she goes along with the action." Linda heard the slight whir as he unscrewed the top of the cold cream jar. "I don't really know why I want to do this, but I got a hankerin'."
Linda flinched as his cold-creamed palm cupped her right bare buttock. Charlie's big hand glided over the expanse of that side of her bottom, working the cold cream into the resilient flesh. He applied a fresh palmful to the other buttock and deliberately smoothed it into the skin. Linda could feel her buttocks swaying from side to side from the movements of Charlie's palm.
Charlie placed a dab of cold cream at the top of Linda's deep buttock-crease, then began to work it down into her crevice. She found herself holding her breath at the stimulation aroused by Charlie's fingers working the cold cream from the little hollow at the base of her spine down past her tightly clenched anus to her long split. "It ain't a bad feelin', guys," Charlie announced, stepping back. "Next?"
Linda turned her head slightly where it rested on her crossed arms. She was in time to see Mousie reach eagerly for the jar. The youngest boy began at once to re-cream Linda's pliant hind cheeks. He was clumsier than Charlie, and he used too much cold cream, but he worked it into her warm flesh. "Oh, man!" Mousie murmured. His voice was the only sound in the kitchen.
Linda tried to relax and ignore what was taking place in her most intimate body parts. Mousie dabbed more cold cream into her buttock-crack, then hurt her when his inexpert but eager fingers tried to work it into her crease. Linda's thighs quivered slightly, but she made no sound as the fingers jabbed at her.
"You guys'll have her ass slippery 'n a greased pig's," Carl declared. "Won't nobody be able to get a prick-hold if you keep it up."
"He's got a point," Charlie agreed. "Finish up, Mousie."
"Oh, Jesus!" The younger boy's voice was almost a whimper. "I never felt nothin' like this!" He moved away from Linda with obvious reluctance. Linda could see a bunched swelling at the front of his crotch, and she realized with a sense of shock exactly what she was in for in the next few moments.
Charlie tapped her upon a sleek buttock. "Into the bedroom, sugar. Drop your socks an' grab a cock." He laughed heartily at his own wit.
Like an automaton Linda rose from the pillow and followed the group into the bedroom. "She ought to take her bra off," Mousie said critically. "Let's see those titties."
Linda didn't even wait for Charlie's instructions. She unhooked the bra, shook it free from her breasts, and passed the bra straps down over her arms. "Jesus!" Carl exclaimed, eyeing the jutting mounds whose dark nipples stiffened in reaction to the chillier air of the bedroom after their warm confinement. "Ain't that a pair of boobs?"
He moved in beside her and took one in his hand. He squeezed too hard, and Linda's lips thinned at the sudden pain, but again she made no complaint. At her other side Mousie played almost reverently with the twin massive orb.
"Okay, onto the bed, sugar," Charlie directed.
Linda sat down on the edge of the bed with a renewed sinking feeling. She had known the situation really wasn't a raincloud that would blow away, but faced with the stark reality....
"Who goes first?" Carl demanded. "Do we draw lots?"
"We could, but I got a better idea," Charlie answered. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Linda saw him wink broadly, a wink that included Carl and the silent Edmondo. "Mousie here's been tellin' us what a hell of a cocksman he is, so I vote we let him go first an' show us some-thin'."
Mousie looked startled. Edmondo smiled, and even Carl grinned grudgingly. "I'm perf-perfectly willin' to go-to go after you guys!" Mousie stuttered.
Charlie placed a hand on Linda's bare shoulder. "Down on your back an' show him the platform, sugar," he instructed. Sensing the steely strength in the hand, Linda went down on her kick obediently and opened and widened her thighs. "There you are, Mousie," Charlie continued with another wink at the others. "How's that for a launchin' pad?"
"Get your pants off, for Christ's sake," Carl said as the bug-eyed youngster stared at Linda's disclosure. Mousie gulped and tumbled with his belt. He paused to kick off his shoes, then pushed down his pants. His shorts followed, and a modest-sized, red-eyed prick danced stiffly beneath his slender belly.
Linda was sure it was all happening to someone else as Mousie crawled onto the bed and moved in between her parted knees. She felt curiously detached. Mousie's hard breathing even evoked a flash of sympathy from her. She wondered if the boy was even sixteen. She could see the trembling tip of his young shaft as he maneuvered onto her belly. He seemed taut as a fiddle string. Plainly he didn't know what to do with his hands.
Behind Mousie's back Charlie winked again. "Look at that pussy hair, Mousie," he drawled. "Wouldn't you like to stuff a mattress with it?"
Mousie made no reply. The slender rigidity of his throbbing prick rested on Linda's lower belly. The boy started to lower himself onto Linda's soft breasts, and as he did so Charlie suddenly seized a boyish bare buttock in his hand and squeezed. Mousie screamed hoarsely and rose up. He grabbed for his prick but couldn't seize it in time. Thick jets cascaded from its tip and sprayed Linda's belly, breasts, and even up under her throat.
Mousie slithered off. Linda and bounded from the bed. "Goddam sonofabitch!" he screamed, stamping his foot on the floor. "I never even got it INTO her!"
Charlie was shaking with helpless laughter. The swarthy-skinned Edmondo was smiling broadly. Carl stood there shaking his head, looking disgusted. "You'll be all right again time the rest of us are through," Charlie consoled the almost-weeping Mousie when he could stop laughing. "Now go get a wet towel an' clean up that mess you made."
Mousie went into the bathroom and returned with a facecloth. He wiped off his sticky deposit from Linda's body while she stared up at him. His scream had frightened her since she hadn't known the cause. "Oh, Jesus, I wanted to fuck you!" Mousie assured her earnestly. "I never knew a girl could feel so soft an' warm an'-an' cuddly."
"Next," Charlie said. He looked at Carl. "You want to make it?"
"Don't mind if I do," Carl agreed. He scowled down at Linda. "An' don't you lay there like a piece of dead meat or you'll have my handprints all over your ass." Deliberately he unbelted and unzipped his trousers and stepped out of them. His undershorts were dirty looking, and Linda looked away. Carl took Mousie's previous place between Linda's legs without removing his shorts and pulled a flange-headed stout prick out into the light.
"Just like you to go rammin' a dry hole," Charlie said in disgust. He ran his big hand down over Linda's mossy curls and searched out with a finger her cunt hole. He frigged her steadily for a moment while Carl squatted on his heels in front of Linda without saying anything. Charlie pulled out his finger with a sucking sound and held it up to display the liquid shining on it. "There, that's a little better," he stated. "All aboard what's goin' aboard."
Carl crowded up against Linda, jabbing at her cunt with his stiff prick. She winced at his inaccuracy and tried to raise her hips higher to assist his aim. "Take it-slower!" she said from between her teeth.
"Don't you try to tell me what to do, you bitch!" Carl snarled at her. He finally lodged the tip of his prick in Linda's hole and began to shove. Linda gasped at the forced entry into her tight channel as Carl's gristle surged up inside her in a series of plunging, battering-ram tidal waves. "Goddam, she's really-tight!" Carl grunted, still intent upon his efforts to pierce Linda more thoroughly.
For some reason Linda felt more afraid of Carl than any of the others.
Suddenly mindful of his warning about lack of activity, she lifted her bottom and thrust upward vigorously. The combined movement shoved Carl into Linda to the hilt. Linda bucked it up into him again.
Carl ceased his movements and a peculiar expression appeared on his usually cynical-looking face.