Chapter 9
Sally Durmont had started work at her new job as secretary and general girl Friday to Henry Wadsworth. Her duties were light, because there weren't too many phone calls and not much more mail. He was just struggling along, she decided, and she felt a little guilty about taken even sixty dollars a week from him. Still in all, she guessed that maybe the balance of her pay would be in his efforts to find her missing sister, Laura.
As for Henry Wadsworth himself, he didn't want to give Sally any false hopes. His visit to the elaborate house of Dr. Weirath had given him a hunch, but you didn't go into a courtroom with a hunch, and you certainly didn't tell a beautiful girl who was worried to death about her missing sister that you were pretty sure her sister might be somewhere in that house. Because if she wasn't he would just be getting Sally's hopes up too high for an awful letdown.
' He found himself worrying a great deal about whether Sally would like him and like being around him, because he felt from the opposite point of view that he was an awfully lucky man to have such a gorgeous piece of pussy so close. He was wondering how he could get even closer to her, and he figured that the best way would be to find her sister. Then she would be so grateful and if he made a pass, she would receive it in a very happy mood, out of gratitude alone. And from there, he was pretty sure that he could steer his way clear to paradise between those lovely thighs and grabbing onto those gorgeous titties and feeling his mouth to hers. The thought of having her legs wrap round and her arms lock him tight while he slowly thrust himself back and forth inside her tight young warm cunt was enough to give him a hard-on just thinking and dreaming about it.
Meanwhile, Ernestine Helms was just about ready to drive her borrowed slave girl back to dear Dr. Weirath. Of course, she still had about two hours left, and maybe if she let Uncle Harold work this red-haired bitch over, they would find out at last what her name really was. The girl was up in the attic, where she had been all the time. This time, she was stark naked and had a black bandanna tied around her eyes and knotted at the back of her neck. Just so she couldn't get away, Ernestine had put a noose around her neck and hoisted it up over a ceiling beam and then tied the end that came down to an old hook driving into the opposing wall. If she moved around too much, the noose would tighten and strangle her. Finally, she had tied a cord around the girl's ankles. And her hands were tied behind her back.
Ernestine had fed her this morning, just some soup with crumbled bits of bread dropped into it. The marks made on the redhead were fading now, and there was just time enough to put some nice new ones on before it was time to take her back.
Ernestine lit a cigarette and stared at the whimpering captive. All she herself had on was a pair of blue linen playshorts and sandals. Her titties were naked, and she was cupping them lovingly, looking down at her figure and admiring it. She liked especially the combination of her pink skin where she was fondling herself and the tan over her shoulders and arms and legs. It made Uncle Harold very hot just to see her like this. On second thought, it might be an excellent idea to get Uncle Harold up here for a last workout.
She squatted down now, plunged the fingers of her left hand into the redhead's hair and yanked at it: "Are you awake, bitch? Good! You're going back to that nice place we got you from, dear. But before you do, I think that Uncle Harold will want to give you another spanking. And I'm sure he'll want to fuck you or maybe bugger you after that. You really have a gorgeous ass, I'll say that for you. Are you sure you still won't tell me your name?"
"I'd rather die," the girl on the floor moaned. "Well you won't die. You'll suffer, and I'm sure that-well, I almost said the name of the man who rented you to me, didn't I?-but anyhow, I'm sure that he'll have other ideas for you. You see, honey, you're going to go on being rented out until you're worn out, and then maybe we'll find a way to dispose of you. Maybe like sell you to a South American whorehouse where you will disappear forever. So don't worry about dying, pet." So saying, Ernestine Helms opened the door of the attic, walked down the stairs, and put her hands to her mouth as she called out, "Uncle Harold, darling, can you come up here for a few minutes, please?"
Harold Buttridge slowly walked up the stairs, grunting with the effort. He was wearing just a bathrobe and slippers, and had already had a sumptuous breakfast of oatmeal, half a pound of bacon fried very crisp, hashed-browned potatoes, coffee and toast and melon. He was an excellent cook, and for that reason did not employ a housekeeper. In that way, he avoided any annoying dangers of having some stranger notice that he and his niece were somewhat more intimate than the law allowed.
"Well, good morning, my dear. I see our little playmate is just about ready to go back, isn't she?" he cackled.
'That's right, Uncle Harold." Ernestine stood, her hands on her hips, squaring her lovely dimpled shoulders so that her bubbies would stick out. His eyes glinted as he noticed them and she saw him lick his fleshy lips. There was an unnatural color in his wrinkled cheeks, and she could see his adam's apple moving in that scrawny neck of his. How awful it was to be old, she though to herself. Now Dr. Weirath wasn't old, he didn't look that way, and he certainly had terrific young ideas. Her pussy itched just thinking about working for him or being associated with him in any way. Well, when she took this bitch back, she was going to see if she couldn't work on the dear man.
"How would you like to give her a spanking, Uncle Harold, and then brown her?" his silver-blonde niece artfully suggested.
"Very much, my dear. You really think of your old uncle, don't you?"
"Of course I do, darling. You're the only kin I have. I rely on you a great deal, you know." Ernestine Helms stepped closer to her uncle, and slyly sneaked a hand into the folds, finding his cock at once and beginning to caress it. Her magical touch made him throb and swell with desire, and his unhealthy color grew darker than ever.
"Well, go ahead, then, show me how good you are, Uncle Harold," she teased.
"If you'll help me untie her, my dear, I'll be happy to show you that I'm still quite active in such sports," Harold Buttridge chuckled. Now he removed his bathrobe entirely, and Ernestine made a grimace of distaste at the sight of his emaciated legs and his pebbly grainy skin, and all the veins which were the sign of old age. But there was nothing wrong with his prick, she had to admit to herself. It stood out ferociously now, as he bent over the quivering and moaning red-haired girl on the floor, adroitly removed the noose, and then began to cut the cords binding her wrists and ankles with a penknife which lay on the little old table where Ernestine had put several flips and a pair of metal tweezers, which she had used to amuse herself in pinching the unfortunate young captive's inner thighs and calves and belly.
"Here, I'll give you a hand, Uncle Harold, don't strain yourself," the silver-blonde beauty purred. Between the two of them, they lifted the tottering, still blindfolded redhead and led her over to a wicker armchair, with very solid legs. They forced her to kneel down on the seat, and then Ernestine grabbed the victim's wrists and squatted down and pulled them down as hard as she could. The victim began to groan and sob: "for God's sake, kill me and be done with it, I can't stand anymore!"
"I'm sorry, pet, it's too bad you have such a sensitive skin," Ernestine giggled, looking up at the blindfolded tearstained face and gloating in her sadistic and perverse anticipation. "But you see, you haven't any right to say anything because you're just a dirty slave. We paid a lot of money to have you to ourselves this nice lovely weekend, and we have to get our money's worth, don't we? Go ahead, Uncle Harold. How do you want to spank her, with your hand or a hairbrush or maybe a nice leather strap?"
"I think," he nursed his chin pensively for a moment as his eyes feasted on the redhead's squirming and beautiful bottom, "that a strap makes a lovely noise and will get me quite eager to do something about it after I have finished."
"I would have chosen that myself, dear Uncle Harold!" was Ernestine's reply.
The girl kneeling on the chair bowed her head and groaned again. Ernestine dug her fingernails into the girl's wrists and hissed viciously. "You can cry all you like once you feel the strap. I want you to cry. I just love watching you cry, bitch. And you're so stupid, really. If we don't find out who you are, your next renter will. And maybe somebody will buy you and take you far away, like maybe to Australia or possibly even Alaska. How would you like that, pet?"
But the girl kneeling on the wicker chair only groaned and sobbed as the naked debauchee walked over to the table and selected a thick leather strap of about twenty inches in length, whose spanking end was formed in a kind of arrowhead, so that it stung with cruel impact upon tender skin already so well sensitized. Stepping back of the unfortunate girl on the chair, Harold Buttridge drew back the strap, measured his distance, and then lunged forward. The brown leather strap clung across the tops of the captive's hips and drew a stifled cry of pain from her. She jerked at her wrists, but Ernestine held them as in a vise. "Did you like that one, darling? That's just a start. Give it to her hard, Uncle Harold, I'm getting sick of the snotty way this bitch keeps trying to pretend she's somebody important so she won't tell us what her name really is. Lay it on her ass, Uncle Harold, warm her up for her browning!"
"I shall try my best, my dear," he said with a chuckle. His eyes were narrowed, and bloodshot from his excesses. His prick continued to be as rigid as ever, and Ernestine again passed a covert look at it. Her pussy started to itch, but somehow she didn't want to have sex with Uncle Harold today. She would much rather hold herself back for dear Doctor Weirath.
The strap fell again and again, up to a dozen lashes. Broad angry red bands marred the pale white skin with its lovely rosy flecks. The captive was twisting and wriggling frantically, trying to lower her bottom to her heels, but when that ocurred, Harold Buttridge swept the strap across the very base of her behind with all his force. The victim promptly arched up her bottom and let out a wail of pain and began to sob harder than ever.
Then, flinging away the strap, and panting hoarsely, the elderly roue dug his bony fingers into the flaming bottom-cheeks of the sobbing, squirming captive, gaped them apart, and thrust the tip of his cock against the shrinking petals of her asshole.
"Oh don't-aahhhrrr-oh for God's sake, stop it, please or kill me, kill me, I want to die!" the young woman screamed as she tried frantically to pull her wrists away from Ernestine's grip. But once again the silver-blonde niece of this viciously depraved old man punished her for that by gouging her sensitive wrists with her fingernails, and by hissing. "Just for that, before we go back there, I'm going to give you a little extra myself, you'll see!" And then, with a giggle. "Give it to her good, Uncle Harold, make her feel it!"
"I shall try my best. She's quite tight, you know. Aahhh, there, now we are in the way we like to be-it's quite tight and it's delightful, Ernestine. In some ways, its too bad you're not a man. You could really enjoy this bitch," the old man panted.
By now he had forced himself halfway into the victim's bum hole, and her piteous cries were deafening.
"How thoughtful of you to soundproof this entire old house, dear Uncle Harold," his niece crooned. She squatted, holding tight to the redhead's wrists, and her thin tight shorts rubbed against her cunt and made her realize that she was getting very excited. But she didn't want Uncle Harold to take care of it. No, this afternoon she was going to talk to that wonderful man who had founded "Les Masques" and brought about such a wonderful revelation of pleasure in her young life.
By now, her uncle had forced his way into the very depths, and the girl's cries were hoarse and trembling. Her head lifted, then bowed, and great tears rolled down her cheeks.
Having planted himself vigorously, Harold Buttridge now began to draw himself back slowly, just to the very brink where her sphincter muscles were most active. Her sobbing cries told him that she was feeling the pangs of this sodomy very satisfactorily.
But now his own furious rut betrayed him. He could not sustain a long-drawn fucking for much more than two or three minutes, a fact which had made his niece plainly contemptuous of him. On the few occasions when she did let him fuck her, he always had to pay some forfeit, whether it was a new bracelet or a new dress or to do something particularly self-denigrating to satisfy his imaginative and wickedly perverse young niece.
Only last week, for example, in order to persuade her to come to bed with him and use her mouth on his cock, Harold Buttridge had had to play "horsie" for her. On all fours, a dog collar around his neck and a leash clipped to it, which was held in Ernestine's hand, he was obliged to go around the room on all fours with her mounted on his back. She had mocked him and jeered at him, slapped and pinched him. But the humiliation was compensated for by those times when she was as viciously passionate as himself, and when even though he knew she was closing her eyes and pretending that some much more handsome and younger man was doing it to her, he could feel his cock dig to the very depths of her tight warm pussy.
So with a cry he felt himself burst into the victim's asshole, and the victim was shaken by new sobs as she realized her degradation.
"Well, I guess I'd better get some clothes on this slut and get her over where she belongs," he said thickly when he had finished.
"Let me take her, Uncle Harold, please. I've been cooped up in this old house too long. I'd just love some fresh air and a car ride with this little bitch in the back seat all nicely tied up and gagged and covered with a blanket so she couldn't tip off the cops," his niece proposed.
"Well, I don't see any harm in that, Ernestine darling," he said after a moment of reflection. He moved now to pick up his discarded bathrobe and put it back on. She was glad for that, because she thought his body rather ugly. She hoped that when she got to be his age, she would still have a nice skin and at least something left of her fine figure. Who was that French woman-oh yes, Ninon de l'Enclos-who had men falling in love with her even when she was eighty or ninety?
Ernestine had read something about that, and it had fascinated her.
"I'd love to. Anyhow, I want to get some pairs of panties and maybe a new scarf, dear Uncle Harold," she cooed. She moved up to him now, and gave him a quick kiss. His hands rushed to squeeze her titties, and she allowed it for a moment. Then laughingly she pushed his hands away and whispered, "We'll be here all day and we'll be late and have to pay another rental if I don't hurry up, dear Uncle Harold." Reluctantly, he released his hold of her, and she hurried down the stairs to her bedroom, returning with an armful of clothes for the martyred redhead who knelt on the chair, abandoned in her desperate shame and degradation.
"Come on, bitch, don't dawdle!" Ernestine called impatiently. "You have to get your clothes on. Take that strap again, Uncle Harold, and lace it to her if she doesn't cooperate now."
"I think you had best do what my niece tells you to, young lady," he said as he stooped down and picked up the leather strap. Then, before the unsuspecting blondfolded naked redhead could anticipate what he was going to do, he raised his arm and slashed her diagonally over the ripest curves of her shuddering, welted bottom-cheeks.
"Ahrrrr!! Oh please don't, oh not any more, I'll do what you want, but stop beating me, oh please!" the captive sobbed.
"You see how we've improved her disposition, Uncle Harold?" Ernestine Helms laughed evilly. "All right, you take off the blindfold, and I'll help her get into her clothes fast-or else!"
Passively, the lovely red-haired captive made no resistance whatsoever as Ernestine put on her bra and then made her lift first one leg and then the other to get her panties pulled up. They were white cotton panties and very brief, and they showed off the base of her well spanked bottom in a most provocative manner.
She raised her arms listlessly when Ernestine drew a blue cotton dress over her, after first putting on a slip. Then she sat down on the chair, her arms behind her back as ordered, while the old man himself knelt down and lovingly drew her new stockings on, smoke-colored nylons, very sheer, and his fingers roamed into her pussy and the tender groin.
She only whimpered a little, but she did not struggle. When at last she was dressed, Ernestine had already hurried down the stairs and come back with her own armful of clothing which she now put on.
The silver-blonde had donned a pair of knee-length white calfskin boots, the kind that laced down and fitted snugly. She had also put on a one-piece matching white kid corselet, which took her between her thighs and covered her pussy, and developed her bottom in a most suggestive manner.
Finally, she put on a light cape, and thus arrayed, she made a gesture to her uncle, who promptly tied the victim's wrists behind her back again and made sure that the knot of the bandanna-blindfold still held.
Then Ernestine, an arm around the blindfolded and bound girl's waist, guided her down the stairway and out at the back of the house through the pantry into a garden. Beyond the garden, her own Impala was parked, camouflaged by growths of trees and bushes. She forced the sobbing captive into the car, and then got in from the other side and took the wheel. Then, starting up her motor, she turned the wheel and headed the car towards the home of Dr. Helmuth Weirath.