Chapter 11
"Like me, eh?" he flashed a smile of pride. He stood up, looking every bit a young Grecian god, with a power that flowed from his handsome young face, through his athletic physique, down around his bronzed loins and his muscular legs.
May was sobbing. Her breasts were riding high on her chest, the slopes of her lower tummy kept dancing up and down with each anxious breath. She struggled. Her wrists were secured as tightly as though a pair of iron manacles had secured them to an iron hoop. Her lower limbs were tight-so tight against each other-she could scarcely move.
The recording star derived an almost narcisstic pleasure out of letting his hands run up and down his body, drawing self-excitement and erotic self-induced stimulation. "Took me a lot of exercise in gyms to build myself up." He still looked pitifully un-manful in comparison to what should have been his main fixture! Apparently, he wanted to make up for this deficiency of Nature ... one which could not be corrected by any means.
He crouched down low, squatted, deliberately flaunting his power at her. "Sure didn't mean to whack you," he mumbled. "But some girls can act stubborn-nothing like a leather whip or belt on the back to make a girl understand things."
From somewhere, the faint sound of car honking was heard; a few loud shrieks, the sound of tires crunching on gravel; then it all faded in the distance. Above, the patch of blue sky pierced the topmost branches of the towering redwoods. Forest thrushes and bluebirds and a katydid added to the symphony of the woods.
But to May Kramer, there was no beauty. There was only savage splendor.
How could this be happening to her? In the midst of civilization, with a hundred people a few dozen yards away to rescue her ... and here she was, bound helplessly naked except for her tiny black lace panties, in the iron grip of a naked recording star!
"What ... are you going to do to me?" She found the courage to ask.
"You're awful stupid," he lamented. "I keep telling you-I want to show you a good time. And I'll pay you ... I gots lots of money. More'n I can spend in a lifetime. I'll spend some on you if you'll just relax a little. Say, you look kind of hot. Want something to cool off?"
He got up, his turgid manhood wavering lewdly in its forest nest. The recording star's bronzed buttocks, rock hard in taut anxiety, flashed in masculine vigor as he went to the station wagon.
"Hey, what's the matter, girls?" It was the first time he had paid attention to them. It was obvious that he derived a weird satisfaction out of standing, his hands on his hips, his legs far apart, exposing himself nakedly before the frightened girls.
"Scared, eh?" He shrugged both shoulders, sending a throbbing power into the upper twin halves of his rock hard chest. "You'll get over it." He took the ice cream float from its receptacle and then went back nakedly to the bound May Kramer.
He crouched down low. his legs brushed against her thigh and the tremor was unavoidable. "Guess I've been rude, May baby."
Her lips trembled so much that she could scarcely mouth her words. "N-no, it's all right ... just let me go, please." If she could appeal to his sense of chivalry, if she would plead and humble herself, arousing his pity, that surely would call forth his sense of pity.
"I will ... just a coupla more minutes." His handsome face looked over the victim. He raised high the cup of ice cream float and turned it over.
The splash of cold soda was like an electrifying shock to her system. It poured over her breasts, down around her navel, then soaked her wispy black lace panty. The gooey ice cream soaked all over, even in the tight shadow-thin line between her smooth thighs.
She began shivering. Spasms tore through her loins. Her bonds were tighter than ever. "B-but ... what are you doing?" She was stricken with fear.
He was crazy!
"Cooling you off." He finished soaking her from her shoulder blades down to her thighs. Then he tossed the carton away. His eyes were smoldering with passion. His voice became husky. He ran his tongue over his lips. Each breath sent a powerful ripple of strength through his torso.
He parted his upper thighs in his crouched condition, looking every bit like a young savage animal in rut heat.
May Kramer felt the throbbing sensation, it was coupled with a more demanding reaction as she saw the way the recording star, the idol of a million screaming fans, bending his darkly handsome head.
Suddenly, his mouth fastened down on the upper breast of his bound girl. His tongue began sloshing around, licking and loving the soda splashed mound. He was actually lapping up the ice cream and flavored soda!
A thousand licking devils ripped through May's loins. It was impossible to control herself. She twisted and twitched and the spasms made her body wrench in agony.
He said nothing; he had become sorely fascinated with this depraved act. He had deliberately splashed the sweet soda and melted ice cream all over her breasts so that he would now be able to lick and kiss and do everything else to "clean" her up!
May felt as if she were being bathed by waters that were not waters but the mouths of a thousand kissing and loving devils. They were devils because they were evil.
They were making her feel reactions that she did not want to feel. They were forcing her to respond. She did not want to respond to such a depraved method.
If only someone would come!
But no-
That would be disastrous!
To be discovered like this-with a recording star who was excitedly kissing and licking every part of the ice cream soda from her creamy white body, nearly naked, with her arms and legs bound together in a savage captivity!
The scandal would never be lived down. She cared naught for his reputation. But her own-it would have been a shocking circumstance and it would haunt her to the end of her days.
He was fascinated with her breasts-a strange fixation of his. He kissed them, loved them, was completely oblivious to all else around him. All he wanted to do was to nuzzle them, to bury his handsome face between the milky white globes, breathe in their warmth, lick away the last traces of the gooey ice cream.
"Strawberries," he laughed hoarsely, not even looking up at May whose face was screwed up in horrifying terror. "I like strawberries with my ice cream. Too bad you didn't have them in the float you brought me."
His mouth yawned wide and then closed down upon one hard strawberry breast tip.
May felt the sharp bite of his teeth. The taut wire snapped and she was hurtling through a mystic void, being bathed in sensuous rapture. Everything was a mirky darkness-a soft, smooth and intimate darkness that kissed her warmly.
The recording star's lips lashed her nipple, bit it, captured it, and aroused fires that May knew would have to be quenched.
If not ... she would scream from the growing tensions. The other breast was not spared this torture. The recording star seized it between both hands. He had such strong hands-they squeezed the breast, mauled it, shaped it into a cone and as he hoarsely gasped.
"Like a strawberry tipped ice cream cone," he proceeded to devour it, capturing it all the way until May squirmed and wanted to sob out that he was going to take it away from her!
Now she was on fire!
She was threshing wildly, straining against her leather bonds that held her wrists, palms together, completely bound. She tried to free her ankles, vaguely surprised that his bikini could be so strong.
He did not even heed her sobbing pleas. They were mostly gibberish and incoherent. On the one hand, May begged to be liberated ... on the other hand, she was pleading with him to release her-but not from her bonds-instead, to be released from the tensions and mounting desires.
He was fascinated with it all, mumbling and making soft, moaning sounds. When he reached her lower tummy, he ripped the black lace briefs apart. Now she was stark naked-and he was taking every advantage of it. He was being cruel and kind. He was biting hard, kissing, teasing, fanning the flames and then deliberately refraining from bringing her merciful release. It was savage and cruel.
May Kramer loved it.
She hated it.
She kept begging for it, not even knowing what she was saying. The recording star did not even hear what she begged. He was using his mouth and hands to really bring her to a high peak-one that was towering above all other peaks. As she would stand up in the peaks that pierced heaven ... she would be pierced just as well-and she would glory in it, knowing that as she flew upward ... she would experience the most heavenly bliss ever imaginable. She would be one glorious mass of sheer ecstasy.
Then he was kissing her-kissing her the way a woman wants to be kissed.
It was the way a lesbian would kiss another lesbian.
And he was doing that to her!
A manly recording star, a top rock 'n' roller, the big name in twistin' and stompin' and guitar twanging'-a body of an Apollo-but the desires of a hermaphrodite-She loved it. She hated it.
And when the summit was reached, a series of low moans escaped her swollen lips. She erupted into violent spasms-her hips trembled, then went up and down ... up and down UP and DOWN!! She was floating in the clouds ... She was floating in the deep sea ... Every part of her was alive with devilish desire. A sharp knife-like pain that was also pleasure, ripped through her loins. "Oh-oh--oh-oh-ohhhhh...."
Writhing and twisting, she was in the throes of agonizing joys. She knew it was sheer ecstasy-and it may have been bizarre-but it was exciting!
When her senses returned, she swooned dizzily. Everything was a black void. Mirky darkness swirled. May Kramer tried to differentiate between reality and a dream. Slowly, she roused herself. Dizzily, she sat up.
Sat up!
She was free!
Her bonds had been removed. This, in itself, was all she needed to revive herself. Free.
She took cognizance of her surroundings. Everything stopped swirling. Objects came into focus. The hazy blurs were clear again. She was aware, first of all, that she was naked. The flush of shame returned. She saw the bronzed back of the recording star. He was stretched out flat, completely exhausted. His naked flanks twitched. He was breathing heavily.
May Kramer got to her knees. She was still dizzy and it took a few moments until her circulation was restored and she could gather her senses.
Her breasts were streaked from the gooey ice cream. Her body felt aohey. She managed to stand up; leaning against a tree, she breathed deeply and slowly managed to straighten out her thoughts.
With numb fingers, she picked up her shorts; they may have been tattered, but they could be worn-at least, it would give her decent covering until she got to her bungalow and could change. Hardly anyone would see her.
She took her torn blouse and was relieved, to a mild degree that it could be worn, too. Her bolero jacket was the final bit of protection.
Now she was ready.
Quietly, she went to the station wagon. The two girls were still there, completely terrified by what they had seen. May Kramer was experienced enough to know that they were girls who wanted to get into the movies. Falling prey to the perverted devices of film stars, they were compelled to participate in the most bizarre activities on the hopes that they could then get a coveted screen test and even a walk on part.
It was an old story. But to screen-hungry girls, it was the only thread to hold on to.
"Can you drive?" she whispered to the taller girl.
She nodded.
"Good-those are the car keys, aren't they?" When she was told that they were, she then asked, "Where's his wallet?"
The girl pointed to the glove compartment In a flash, May Kramer had it opened. She just took one swift glance over her shoulder to be convinced that the recording singer was still resting heavily. He was.
May took the wallet. It was a thick, billfold type, of expensive black leather. It was too expensive for such a young fellow, but then again, with money rolling it, it had to roll out in some direction. The wallet was stuffed with money-bills of denominations ranging from tens up to one hundred. She took some of the bills, folded them, stuffed them in her bra. Then she took the balance, pushed it in the hands of one girl and said.
"Drive on-go on U.S. 101 and it'll take you directly into San Francisco. Park this car on any side street Then take this money and go home-wherever you came from-go home."
Sobbing, the girl obeyed. She got out of the back seat of the station wagon, climbed in front. In a few seconds, she had gunned up the motor, was easing the station wagon backward, onto the makeshift path and soon was out of sight.
Holding the black leather billfold wallet, May Kramer went over to the face down recording star. He was breathing heavily. Strange, thought May. This experience had taken everything out of him. It appeared to have that effect on the most perversed of desires.
May looked into the billfold. She saw some identification cards and papers that looked rather valuable. With a peculiar smile on her pale face, May Kramer looked around. She saw what she wanted.
A few yards away was a small muddy puddle. She went over to it, then withdrew the valuable documents and papers from the billfold. She stuck these into the muddy puddle, deeper and deeper until the papers were completely soiled with dirty mud. Now she did the same with the black leather wallet--soiling it so that it was a gooey mess.
Just as she had been a gooey mess at the hands of this depraved monster.
Now she took everything together, smiled as she heard the squish and the droplets of mud oozing out-she took the wallet and papers and brought the muddy mess to the prone recording star.
She plopped them down at his side.
But May was not finished. She had something else to do! Searching around, she found his expensive shirt, the discarded trousers, the jacket as well as the ascot tie. She saw his imported shoes and socks. These were taken and thrown deep into the woods.
The rest of his clothes were dunked into the muddy puddle, soaked and drenched with slimy mud until they were gooey and disgusting. The muddy mess was tossed down at his side.
There was just one more thing to do. She found a branch-a stout branch that was also narrow. She held it tightly in her hand.
"Wake up!" she said harshly.
He shook his head. "Unh? What...?"
Good. He was awake. She wanted him to be wide awake for what she was going to do to him. She raised on sharp-heeled shoe. This was dug deep ... deep into the muscular folds of the small of his back.
A knife-like pain tore through his middle. This awakened him. "Hey-get off-get off!" he mumbled. He tried to turn over but it was impossible. The more he squirmed, the deeper was the sharp heel dug into his lower back. He screamed. It was a scream of livid pain.
"See how you like it!" snarled May Kramer, flushed with vengeance.
The heel kept him prisoner. And now she was going to punish him for what he had done to her. She aimed the sharp branch and suddenly inserted it.
The singer screamed as he felt the branch-he screamed again and again as the sharp insertion was dug deeper and deeper-as if it were being used on him-as if he were being used as a woman!
"Let go!" he screamed, both legs flung apart, his hard muscled buttocks twitching in spasms. "Let go!"
But his pleas only added fat to the fire of revenge. May Kramer became a dynamic hoyden of power. She was victorious, conquering men-humiliating them-destroying them!
She used the branch with such sharp vigor that scream after scream made it evident that he was being punished!
After he was reduced to a helpless, sobbing mass, writhing on the ground, huddled in a crouch, May Kramer yanked free the branch.
"Be glad I don't really fix you!" Then she laughed shortly, a flash of memory coming back-how Ned and Max had battled and how Ned had been given the supreme torture, the most horrid mutilation that is the nightmare of all men! "I could ruin you-but you don't have much to be ruined, as it is."
Before she left him, she scooped up a few handfulls of gooey mud and flung this at him. He tried to duck, but sobbing, hurt, completely degraded, he could not even defend himself if he tried. The mud streaked his famous profile, soaked his hair, covered him with gooey slime.
A strange exhilaration flooded May Kramer when it was over. She felt a throbbing power. In that moment, she knew that she could never be the equal of men. Neither could she be lower than men. She would always have to be superior-and dominate them!
"You'll be happy here." Jo Laurence had finished tidying up the small apartment in San Francisco. "You have nothing to be afraid of. No one will hurt you."
May Kramer got up, went to the windows and looked out. She had finally made it-to San Francisco. Just why she wanted to come here, what waited for her, was something she did not even understand. Perhaps she just wanted to have somewhere to go. Someone to go to.
"I know I'll be safe ... after that awful experience." It was painful just to think about it.
Outside, she saw Telegraph Hill,' crowned by its cylindrical tower, capped by an observation platform overlooking the entire resplendent world of San Francisco Bay. The tower was a monument to the 19th century San Francisco firemen-in a way, it could even have been a monument to May Kramer and everything she had gone through.
She could imagine seeing the hilly streets of North Beach; Jo Laurence had taken her there-they walked among the Italian fishing families, among Bohemian writers and artists and the bearded beatniks; later they came down Taylor Street to Fisherman's Wharf.
May had been fascinated to see crabbers, sitting cross-legged, mending their nets by hand with long wooden needles; huge iron cauldrons simmered over open fires of boxwood. Behind the kettles were piles of crabs and trays of shrimps and prawns, just waiting to be boiled to order.
Most of all, May loved the fresh, clean atmosphere. All the streets of San Francisco appeared to have the blue sky at one end and the blue bay at the other.
She loved to see the screaming gulls as they waited for scraps to be tossed into the water. It was so wonderful that she could not believe it was real.
"I suppose I should have been careful."
"You'll remember what happened for a long time," said Jo Laurence sagely. "But it should serve to warn you about him. They're blinded by their own instincts. They rule out emotional, mental, spiritual-and they are concerned only with the base physical lusts. Maybe they can't help themselves. But that is no reason why girls should let down their guards."
May Kramer sat down on the contour chair facing the expensive glass-topped cocktail table in the living room. "I don't know how to thank you, Jo, for bringing me here, taking me in your home. How shall I ever repay you?"
Jo Laurence stretched; in her form fitting slacks and mannish shirt, she could have passed for a college boy-except that her breasts protruded. Her hated breasts, Jo had declared angrily. She came toward May. Her very movements were suggestive of a man. Her hair was combed back. She was going to have it cut-cut very short-and look every part of a young man; and those breasts would be painfully strapped down and otherwise obscured.
"But I want you to live here, May."
May moved aside to let Jo sit down on the hassock that was beside her own chair. "I certainly can't go back to work for Tony at the Willow Branch." She smiled. "That recording star sure looked funny, coming out of the woods, streaked with mud, carrying his muddy clothes."
Jo laughed lustily. "I'll bet he got a kick out of everybody seeing him like that. He's a born exhibitionist."
"But it cost me my job." She was downcast. "And mine too," informed Jo.
"But you didn't have to defend me." There had been an almost violent argument in the office. Tony Lindgren wanted to defend the recording star who usually deposited a hundred dollar bill with him if a girl was especially satisfying. Now Tony knew that there would be no more hundred dollar bills every other week or so.
"What's the difference?" A crease of a frown appeared on Jo Laurence's high forehead. "Besides, as I told you yesterday, I really don't have to work. My family is wealthy. The trust fund cheque comes every month-right on the dot. I only worked as a car hop because it put me in touch with a lot of people-especially girls."
"I'm glad we met." May felt Jo's warmth and the reaction was not only physically stimulating, but provided a mental balm that made her feel good.
Very good.
"Are you?" Jo was teasing. "Maybe I'm just a convenient thing for you, May." Her eyes took in May's form fitting silken sheath, brand new, bought with her savings. May's breasts were molded against the bow strung bodice.
"Convenient?"
Jo looked away. "I told you that there are no strings attached when you come to live with me. All I ask is ... your friendship."
"Now that's a big word."
"It takes in a lot, May."
They relaxed quietly for a while, after having eaten. Then Jo turn on the hi fi stereo. The apartment was soon filled with a soft, almost idyllic music. It was Handel's Water Music. The ripples of a lily dotted pond could be seen as two of them, May and Jo, stretched out on a white bearskin rug, staring into the glowing embers of a log fire in the fireplace.
"You've come a long way, May."
May snuggled against Jo, wanting to feel her closeness, the warmth of her body. She had a slight hesitance. Was ... was Jo a confirmed lesbian? It was obvious, from her appearance and all that, but Jo had not made a pitch for her. It was all on a straight friendship basis.
"Jo?"
"What?"
"Tell me something."
Jo sighed. "What?" A tinge of impatience. "Have you ... ever loved a man?"
Jo's arms stiffened. "Of course not!" May began to feel better.
"Why do you ask? I know you've been had by men. Do you think it matters to me?"
"Nothing seems to matter any more," May reflected soulfully.
"Don't talk like that!" Jo was becoming more and more aggressive but without the harmful effects of manishness. She would not, like the other men known by May Kramer, seek to violate her. "There are things that matter."
May wanted to know some examples. "At times, I wonder what is right and what is wrong. Could you help me, Jo? Help me draw a line between the two. I'm lost. I'm so very lost."
Jo held onto May; her arm was possessive around the girl's soft waist. Her hand brushed against her heavy breasts. "You aren't lost, May, when I'm with you. Do you want to know what is right and what is wrong? It is love-love can be right and it can be wrong. The love a man has for a woman is right, if it is unselfish. But a man's love is physical-and is selfish because it seeks to gratify his physical yearnings. He looks upon the woman as his means of satisfaction. That love is wrong. The love of a woman for a woman-it is right-because each seek the same pleasures and these can be obtained only by unselfish desires. There can be no deceit in that kind of love."
She was beginning to understand. "Then passion is wrong if it is selfish."
Jo nodded. "You're learning."
May stirred and looked up at Jo's face. In the darkening twilight coming through the bay windows, the face was almost masculine, yet had a softness that was pleasing. She looked every part the picture of a youthful boy.
"Jo?"
"Mmmm?"
"Do you love me?"
A slight pause. "Do you want me to love you?"
"Yes, Jo, oh yes-more than anything else in the world."
"I was waiting for you to say that, May. I want you to ask for my love. I'm not going to force it on you like the others did."
In a flash, May Kramer understood. Others had seized her, used her, cared little about her responses. But Jo Laurence would not take her-unless she, May Kramer, approved.
"Take off my dress, Jo." Then she said in a small voice as the excited Jo, the self-confessed lesbian, began pulling the dress up around her waist, exploring the lush confines of her upper thighs, "and make love to me. I want to be loved-and to love you, too."
It acted as an aphrodisiac to Jo Laurence.
Moments later, the two of them were naked on the bearskin rug. Jo Laurence was kissing May Kramer, stroking the soft contours of her lower back, cupping the slopes of her buttocks in her hands, massaging them with satiny gentleness.
Jo's mouth loved May's breasts-but it was a soft love, filled with kindness. Jo was more than just a lesbian lover. She filled the wells of happiness. She knew how to make May respond ... and May rallied to the call and loved Jo-she loved her as if she loved life, itself.
They fell asleep in one another's naked arms, dreaming of nymphs and naked maidens in the shaded groves of the courtyards of Sappho of Lesbos.
It was wonderful!