Chapter 15

It was the old hag in her gold bikini panties and her gold leather boots. She was with Ann, the bitchy looking woman in the waist-pinching corset of leather with the chains, with her tanned-parchment tits thrust up by a ridiculously tight bra, and the black-mesh hose. The old hag had a vicious looking whip in one hand and with the other she had hold of a strap that was tying Ann's wrists behind her back.

"Oh, Robin, my sweet girl," the old hag cooed. "You are so helpful. I knew right from the start you'd make a wonderful maid. One of these days you're going to make an old woman like me very happy."

Robin didn't know how to respond so he simply smiled.

"There now dear girl-Oh, I say, you have grown up since I saw you last-I need your help sweet girl. This young girl over here"-and she indicated with a toss of her hairy old chin the middle-aged Ann in front of her-' this young girl has been very naughty and I need you to help me punish her."

The old hag gave her instructions and Robin helped her take the woman named Ann to the steel frame in which he had been spun. He figured out how to strap her feet into the proper place. Then he undid the straps at her wrists, brought down the spring-laden shackles from overhead, and fastened her wrists into those. He started looking over the controls to see how to do things right, but quick as a wink he found someone to operate it. It was the portly man who had operated the revolving monster when he had been strapped to it. The stout man was dressed now, very unconvincingly, as a woman with flared ballerina dress and dainty dancing shoes fastened up his fat legs with satin ribbons.

The stout man took over and soon had the woman called Ann going through the various movements as the steel circle spun once in this plane then in that. The old hag cackled delightedly.

The stout man stopped the spinning circle and at her request Robin helped the old hag climb into it the way Milton had climbed into the circle with him. The old hag cackled, wrapped her spindly legs in their golden boots around the neck of the tortured ex-torturer and wrapped her arms around the woman's thighs. Her golden panties had come off earlier and now she pressed her rank cunt into the mouth of the woman, Ann. Her hands meanwhile pulled at the other woman's panties and when she had ripped these off she glued her lips to the woman's crack.

Robin turned away.

There were more men in the room again. He saw Milton in drag and took steps to avoid him. He saw the big black giant, now wearing a tiger skin over his shoulder and a studded club in his hand. The record player had been turned on and now there was loud rock music blaring forth stereophonic ally from concealed speakers. Lights were flashing and turning from a series of projectors and light machines. The place was bathed in eerie colors and sounds.

The crowd had started dancing. They danced in various styles, the erotic dominating. Tall and short, thin and fat, men or women or in between, in groups of one or two or three or four, they raised themselves off the floor and off the cushions, off the sofas and off the mattresses and joined in the dance. Some interrupted for a moment as he passed, to demand fresh drinks or a sandwich or a piece of fruit. He served them all. He was happy now. It seemed like a gay and happy party and he was in his element serving them.

Arbella danced with the big black giant and he admired and envied them both. His longing glances cast around the room in search of Lizbeth. He couldn't see her for a long time and then he saw her dressed in a jerkin and mini-skirt of shiny black vinyl that clung tightly to her figure. She was dancing in a circle of fight, by herself Robin thought at first, dancing wildly and flinging her body around like a savage. Then he realized she was dancing as partner of a statuesque black woman whom he hadn't noticed before in the swelling crowd.

The black girl wore what amounted to just a thin long shawl of stridently bright, tissue-thin silk, that seemed somehow fastened at the right shoulder and draped from there in two loose folds down either side to the ground. She had on thigh-high white leather boots with high heels but under what passed as a dress she wore nothing, absolutely, but absolutely nothing.

She had a magnificently molded body. Full and ripe and curvaceous, luscious and inviting. A body made for love and loving. Her breasts were huge but firm as they bounced in her erotic dance. Her thighs were long and firm and ripe. Her belly was small and her bottom was like two huge water melons, juicy, inviting a bite or a refreshing suck.

He stared at her with awe and desire. There seemed to be something familiar about her, something terribly, terribly exciting, something that appealed both to his present desires and to his memory of past pleasures. Then his eyes took in the huge fuzzy mass of her Afro hairdo that stood eighteen or twenty inches around her beautiful ebony head, like a fiery halo of dark lightning. And then he remembered her: the girl he had admired on Eighth Street that long ago afternoon when Elizabeth had picked him up. The girl in whose generous bums he had rested his head while admiring the view and then entered into conversation with Lizbeth. The girl whom Lizbeth had called Coryn-and had invited over for the evening. It all seemed so remote now and so strange and different.

And this was Coryn, and she'd taken up Lizbeth's invitation. She was one of those too, obviously, and Robin wasn't at all surprised. In fact he was quite glad.

"Hi! You! Girl! Waitress!" It took Robin a moment to realize she was addressing him. He approached her through the dancing shuffling crowd that threatened to knock him off his high-heeled shoes with each step that he took.

"Gimme a drink! That's right. A screwdriver. A double one. Don't spare the vodka!" Then she went back to her wild sensual gyrations.

Robin brought it back as quickly as he could. The black giantess took one look at it and threw it into the brick fireplace. "What sort of a screwdriver is that?" she asked, fixing Robin with an angry stare. "You'd think you were new to this. Don't you remember how I like mine?"

The anger and authority of her voice thrilled Robin-the-parlor-maid to the quick. "I-I-I-" he started stammering.

Lizbeth, perhaps out of some feeling of loyalty, some dim memory of what had transpired between them so long ago, came to his rescue.

"Oh no, she's new," she told her partner, indicating the sad-looking maid with the white caplet on top of his short blonde hair. "She only started with us today. Her name is Robin."

Coryn, the big black giantess, stuck a cigarette into a long diamond-studded ebony holder and brought it slowly to her lips. Then she lit it casually, inhaled, and blew the smoke into Robin's face. He coughed and the tears welled in his eyes.

"I've seen you somewhere, though. I'm sure of that. You must have waited at enough orgies in the past to know what I want."

"I-I-I-"

"She's a new one," Lizbeth laughed. "Used to be a he. Met it at Eighth Street during lunch. Hey, you must remember. You were there, too. That's when I invited you."

Coryn screwed up her eyes in thought, applied the cigarette holder to her full luscious lips, took a deep puff that made her twin boobs quiver, then let out the smoke again in Robin's face.

"Why! Now I remember. It's you!" Her voice was larded with venom. "You're the sneaky so-and-so who was trying to cop a feel all the time! You're the one who was trying to sucker up to my hams all the time I was bent over. You no-good conniving son-of-a-whore!"

Robin blushed under his make-up.

"Pretendin' you was some kind of a man who can make it with chicks, eh?" the black beauty kept up her taunting barrage at Robin.

"Now they got you doin' what you ought to 'of been all your life. O.K. my pretty little ex-masher, my nice little serving maid, now bring me another drink and mind you put that slice of orange just on the edge of the glass, NOT in it. And quick!" She gave her last order with a snarl and turned back to dance with Lizbeth.

Robin shuffled off, dejected.

When he brought back the drink, Coryn seemed satisfied. "Well," she asked Lizbeth with a mocking tone. "Has our naughty boy become a good maid? Does she do what you want of her? Does he give you much lip."

"No, no lip. Not that kind of lip."

Both women laughed.

"Oh, that kind of lip," Coryn repeated her friend's phrase. "I think I prefer that kind of tongue. What the hell! It's been laying for me for so long-eh baby Robin?-and I'm in a fine sweat, I think I'll put me this maid to some use. Here, Robin, come and service me. I feel sweaty all over."

For a moment Robin thought he must have misunderstood the request. Service her? All over? With his tongue? The thrill spread up from his groin and grasped him by the throat so that he choked and couldn't say anything.

He didnt have to say anything or to ask. Coryn had flopped back on a leather reclining chair with her booted legs forward and her thighs widely spread. Her thin gown was completely parted and her body was entirely bare. She parted her thighs where the sweat had made them stick together near the top. She parted the hair and she parted the lips of her cunt. The glistening pink folds of flesh inside contrasted sharply with the dark of her skin and the white of her boots.

Robin adjusted his black nylons and the skirt of his black dress and knelt obediently between the proffered thighs. His tongue was ready and he probed deep into the cunt that was gamy from much dancing and perhaps much fucking during periods that Robin hadn't noticed. His tongue probed deeply and licked out all the hidden flows and fluids and then, with tongue and lips he coursed all around her crotch, his nose buried in her prickly black hairs. He roamed all over, luxuriating in the soft flesh and the heady odors, licking along the thighs, licking up the belly, licking into the crack further back, between her luscious round buttocks.

Coryn slipped off the recliner onto the carpeted floor and raised her thighs high. It brought her round bums into fuller view and exposed the full long line of her pinkish-purple cunt. Her legs, in white leather boots stretching half-way up the thighs, were thrust high into the air and she kept them there with her hands pushing from the back of her hams.

Robin knelt again between her thighs. Now he could get at it all, see it all delectably spread in front of him. His tongue reached out again to dip itself in the honey-pot at the center of her cunt. Then, with the steaming nectar he had picked up in her twat, he applied his tongue to its task, running slowly down and backwards, a fraction of a delectable inch at a time, tongue left, tongue right, tongue full in, tongue make circle. The taste, both bitter and sweet combined, like a thick gamy gravy, with an accompanying smell. The luscious feel of voluptuous flesh. Tongue going back and lapping all round. The new maid learning her new job to please her new mistress.

Tongue laps back further and further. Taste and smell become stronger and stronger. Tongue finds round wrinkled hole and licks around it. Coryn moans. Robin circles hole.

His tongue went in and pressed the inside of Coryn's ass. It was tight but slowly his tongue glided in, deeper and deeper, as he swept it around and licked up her special smells from here. He sucked deep and hungry, then he withdrew his tongue reluctantly and continued with his tongue-grooming of his new black mistress.

Coryn brought her thighs down. They caught Robin's head in their tight embrace. She wrapped them around his neck and brought her boots down to lie crossed along his back. She pressed tight. Robin felt his head spin. He was going crazy with desire. He brought his hands under and around her thighs and squeezed her bums and then worked his way up her glorious torso, past her waist and took hold of her enormous breasts.

There was a strain in his groin. A struggle that felt like bursting. The tight agony of restraint. He could feel the glow that seemed centered in the new hole that the old hag had created in his pubis, and it seemed to demand escape. Pressures were building up. He tried to see himself as the maid simply servicing her mistress but the image of himself as a woman was becoming difficult to visualize.

It was straining at his groin. It was straining past the folds of skin and past the sanitary pads and past the belts and hooks and fastening. It was...it seemed odd to think of it again in that way...it seemed like a cock, like his cock reborn.

He had an urge to find out and make sure but he knew that his present service to his black mistress permitted no such curiosity and no such luxurious extravagances. He remained the maid, devoutly devouring her mistress's altar of erotic desire. He remained between her thighs, tonguing her clit, sucking her cunt, licking her thighs, burying himself in her massive, masterful womanflesh.

He was doing his job well, judging by the moaning and sighing of his mistress. Her thighs rolled one against the other imparting a heavy massage to his head and cheeks. Her boots beat out a tattoo along his back. Her hands were grabbing for him everywhere. She sighed and moaned as if she could never have enough. Then she seized his head in both her hands and urged it up her body. His tongue traversed her cunt again, through her hairy triangle, up to the belly button as she tugged at his head with both hands. Her legs were still gripping him tight and as she pulled the dress was torn off his back, the caplet ouf of his hair. Her heels caught in the belts at his waist and tore them. The sanitary pad fell away and he could feel his prick jump into full readiness with the erective force of long-term disuse and pent-up energy.

Coryn's hands pulled Robin up her belly and to her breasts. He rested his head between the huge mounds, bringing these together with is hands to form an enveloping cushion from left and from right.

His cock was hard and ready. Her cunt was wet and open. When Robin had been pulled up to the right level, his cock automatically sprang into the open greased funnel of her cunt. She gave a start. So did he. He reared himself on his knees and started pumping his cock into her slippery exciting cunt. He was making long easy strokes from his knees and his cock kept going in and out while his face remained buried in the great mounds of firm black flesh that were her tits.

Suddenly a heavy weight pounced on him from behind. He felt the touch of a tiger skin. He knew it was the giant black man he had admired earlier with Arbella. Robin's heart shrank, cold with fear. He knew he was in for more torture but his cock refused to stop. It kept pumping in and out of Coryn's cunt as if with a will, of its own.

The black rose off his back for a moment, then rained a flurry of blows and lashes on his bared back. Robin's cock went in and out. He was a man again, taking a woman in a man's way, and no one could stop him now.

Then Robin felt the cheeks of his ass being spread. A load of grease was slapped into his asshole and then he felt the ramrod pressure, the awful, frightening, ultimate weapon that would take his manhood.

The black giant drove it into Robin's ass, drove it in all the way while Robin screamed and moaned with the excruciating pain. He was sandwiched in between the two giant ebony bodies and he was as no-one to them, just an amusing insert between them to heighten their enjoyment.

For Coryn and her man were humping, humping as any couple might hump, fucking straight missionary style, with the only exception that between Coryn's cunt and the cock of her mate they had inserted the insignificant body of Robin, once-proud male Robin, lately inefficient-female maid, now just an object for others' lust.

The man fucked, the woman fucked, and Robin got fucked in between. He was nothing. Not a man, not a woman, just something in between a real man and a real woman.

And something told Robin that this was how it was, this was how it should be, this was how it would henceforth and for ever after more be.

The couple fucked with Robin in between them and reached a wild simultaneous climax and Robin, with a cock up his ass and his own cock up the cunt, rejoiced and felt happy and let it all mount up out of his balls and spill from his cock into the woman's cunt while the cock up his ass was spurting and the muscles of his ass went into a dance of their own.

This was how it would be. There was no going back. He could wash and dress and walk out of there and go back to his old life but life would never be the same again.

He had been made a prisoner by these wanton men and wanton women.

They might let him go but he would forever be a slave to the new realities they had created for him. He would forever remain a prisoner of the new bizarre life.

Robin smiled contentedly.

That would be fun. That would be a lot of fun!