Chapter 12
The house was in complete darkness and there was not a sound of life coming from inside. Still Sherry knew she had the right place. She had followed Denny's directions to the letter.
She climbed the three wooden steps that led to the front door, balled her fist and banged it almost timidly on the barrier. No answer. She waited a few seconds, then hammered again, louder.
To her relief a light came on inside the house and she could see the silhouette of someone coming through the rooms. Upon reaching the door, the person inside halted and without opening the door, called out, "Yes? Who is it?"
Sherry swallowed, took a deep breath and unconsciously reverted to her maiden name as she replied, "I'm Sherry Porter. I'm . .. I'm lost."
Sherry heard the night-latch thrown back and the door opened slightly. A woman in a full-length, white chenille bathrobe, belted tightly around her middle, peeked out at her. "You alone?"
"Yes, Ma'am ..."
The door opened wider. The woman standing before Sherry looked to be somewhere in her thirties, tall, with sleek black hair that she wore very short. Even though she wasn't wearing a speck of makeup, Sherry could see she was very pretty. Certainly she was not at all the type, Sherry had expected to find living alone in a beach house during the bleak off-season.
The woman gave Sherry an equally hurried appraisal then told her to step inside. After that biting wind, the warmth of the house felt good.
The woman took a moment to have another closer look at her unexpected visitor. In spite of Sherry's dark hair disheveled by the wind, her lips turned purple by the cold and her face spanked red by the wind and sun, the woman obviously was pleased with what she saw.
"You look half-frozen," she said with concern. "Better come with me."
Sherry followed the woman into a sort of den, that followed the design of ship's cabin with heavy, hand-carved furniture that looked capable of withstanding the ravages of year 'round beach wear. In the corner of the room was a massive built-in bar. The woman hurried Sherry to it, where she filled a couple of glasses with brandy, handed one of them to Sherry, who drank it down in one gulp, even though it burned her throat and started a fit of coughing.
The woman waited until Sherry's coughing subsided then she asked, "Feel better?"
Sherry nodded and set the empty glass on the bar. "Much. Thank you."
The woman reached for the bottle. "Like another?"
"No thanks--not right now."
The woman smiled and continued to appraise Sherry more intently. "Now my dear, I think it's time we introduced ourselves. I'm Isabel."
"I'm Sherry."
"Did I understand you to say you were lost?"
"Yes, ma'am," Sherry said, then went on to repeat the story that Denny had fabricated for her, almost word for word. When she had finished, she put on her saddest face and added, beseechingly, "I hope you'll help me get out of here, so I can find my way home."
Isabel smiled. "Of course, nothing can be done tonight. I wouldn't drive after dark."
Sherry glanced at the telephone in a small wall recess near the far end of the bar. "Couldn't we call and have a taxicab come out and pick me up?"
Isabel chuckled. "My dear, do you have any idea how far it is to the nearest town? Seven to ten miles, even after you get up onto the highway. It would cost you a small fortune to have a taxi come all the way out here--even if you could find a driver willing to make the trip." She shook her black-thatched head. "Sorry, darling. I'm afraid you're going to have to stay right here until morning."
A soft voice from the doorway suddenly interrupted. "Well, I had no idea we had company!"
Sherry snapped her head around to see another woman standing there. She was blonde and despite the fact she may have been a few years older than Isabel, she still retained more than a semblance of her fading youth and bold good looks. In a see-through, sea-green negligee, it was apparent that she took exceptional care of her figure. Her tummy was slab-flat, her breasts full and firm and her legs long and slim.
Isabel introduced the two women. "This is Amy. She and I live here together at the beach most of the time."
At Isabel's request, Sherry repeated her story for Amy, who listened as attentively as Isabel had listened. But there was something about Amy that made Sherry feel terribly uneasy.
She wasn't sure what caused the feeling. Whether it was the way the woman kept staring at her, or because Amy had nothing on under her flimsy negligee and made no attempt to keep the front of the covering closed, so that Sherry kept getting flashes of the woman's breasts and belly-button and veneris covered with a thickness of blonde hair. It didn't make Sherry feel any more comfortable when she stood between the two women at the bar, while they all had a nightcap and Amy kept tracing the line of her shoulder with an intimate finger.
"You're still shivering, darling," Isabel noted.
"Not really," Sherry rejoined, starting to feel the effect of the two brandies.
"Drink up," Amy encouraged. "Then we'll all get into bed where it's nice and cozy and warm."
Fear tapped at Sherry's brain as she saw the way the two women kept watching her, almost hungrily. She wondered what she'd allowed herself to get into now.
"I--I don't want to put either of you out," she stammered awkwardly. "I don't mind at all sleeping right here on the couch."
"We wouldn't dream of such a thing," Isabel insisted.
"Of course not," Amy agreed as her eyes followed the neckline of Sherry's dress, her hand moving down to rest on Sherry's hip. "You're our guest. You'll share our bed with us."
Whatever excuses Sherry tried to make, were lost on the two women and before she knew it, she was in the bedroom with them. It was easy to see how nervous she was.
Isabel tried to put her at ease. "If you'd like to undress in the bathroom, darling, it's right there."
She pointed to the half-open door.
"I-I don't have anything to wear," was the weak excuse Sherry offered this time.
Amy went to the dresser, opened a lower drawer, dug out a sheer black nightie and tossed it to Sherry. Sherry hurried into the John and closed the door. She wished she could have locked herself in and stayed there for the rest of the night. But she knew that was impossible.
She couldn't afford to antagonize either of the two women. She needed their help. Without them she couldn't hope to get away, or even hide out and she might have need to hide out. In the morning, when Gus and the others found out she was gone, they'd unquestionably start searching for her, combing the beach and every house along the way. Without the cooperation of Amy and Isabel--!
Sherry took off everything she was wearing except her black lace panties, wiped off the sand that clung to her feet and legs and then put on the nightgown. Not only was it transparent, it also was several sizes too large for her and the straps kept sliding down off her shoulders. After running a wide tooth comb through her long hair to make it look a little less wild, she opened the door and joined Amy and Isabel in the bedroom. They were both in bed, waiting for her with the lights on. They eyed her with considerable interest as she moved toward the bed, falteringly.
She found herself clutching shyly at the bodice of the fragile nightie, knowing they could see everything she had through the diaphanous material. Her heart was hammering and her stomach had that queasy feeling that accompanies uncertainty and fear.
She swallowed and in a strained voice that sounded nothing like her own, asked, "Shall I--I put out the lights?"
"You get into bed, darling," was Isabel's sweet response. "I'll take care of the lights--later."
Sherry could see they had cleared a place for her on the big bed between them. She tried unsuccessfully to control the trembling of her body as she climbed over Isabel and stretched out on her back in the place they'd reserved for her. She turned and saw they both were naked.
"Poor baby," Amy whispered in motherly fashion. "You're still shaking . . . still cold."
"No . . . I'm not. . . not really ..."
Amy leaned over Sherry, her voluptuous, stiff-nippled melons swinging freely.
"Gotta get our baby warmed up," Amy purred as she swept one of the straps from Sherry's shoulder, pulling it down to bare one of Sherry's lovely, ripe, young breasts. Then she swung her own dangling breast in position so that her nipples brushed against Sherry's.
Sherry remembered it was an old lesbian trick that Margo used many times to excite her, just as Amy was doing right now--in spite of her fears and reluctance. As Margo did, as soon as the nipple began to stiffen, Amy put her lips to it and sucked it the rest of the way to rock hardness. At the same time, Sherry could feel Isabel's hand roving her thighs, slowly working the bottom of her nightie upwards.
"Let's get this silly thing off," Amy said impatiently, indicating the nightgown.
"No," Sherry protested, but she might have saved her breath and her struggling. With Isabel's help, Amy removed the nightie easily.
"Ill be damned--she's wearing panties, too," Isabel discovered. Needless to say they went the way of the black nightie.
Amy lost no time climbing atop Sherry and covering the girl's nakedness with her own nude body. Nipples to nipples, veneris to veneris, Amy began to grovel against her. Sherry tried very desperately to fight back the arousal Amy was causing her but it was a losing battle.
"She's about ready," Amy panted finally as she rolled off of Sherry and knelt beside her a moment to look down at her beauty. "She's so young and sweet and lovely."
"This time we're lucky," Isabel commented as she ran a hand over Sherry's soft, perspiring flesh.
Sherry was unaware of what was happening until she realized that Amy had clamped a metal-cuff on one of her wrists. The cuff, in turn, was fastened to one end of the headboard.
"What--what are you doing?" Sherry blurted out in terror.
"Be surprised, darling," was all Amy would tell her with a little laugh. Then before Sherry could begin to make a move, Isabel at the other side of the bed, snapped a cuff on her other wrist. They followed through by doing the same thing to both of her ankles and she lay there on her back on the bed, arms and legs outstretched as if she were on a rack. Too panic-stricken to cry out, Sherry just held her breath, waited and prayed.
While Amy got off the bed, hurried to the dresser, opened an upper drawer and fished something out from inside, Isabel stood at her side of the bed. She ran an exploratory hand upward over Sherry's tummy to her breasts, feeling their soft firmness and plucking playfully at the nipples to keep them aroused.
Isabel hadn't taken as good care of her figure as Amy. She had a slight pot and while her breasts were big enough, they were inclined to sag a little.
As Sherry continued to tremble under Isabel's hand, the woman soothed, "Nothing to get alarmed about, darling. Amy and I do each other up like this all the time. Makes it more exciting to be completely at another person's mercy and not know for sure what they're going to do to you."
"What--what are you going to do?" Sherry fretted.
Isabel's face became a smile. "Make you feel nice ..."
Sherry then began to shake her head from side-to-side on the pillow, her voice laced with hysteria. "No . . . please . . . don't... I can't take anymore--not tonight..."
"Tonight?" Isabel was quick to echo as she cocked a quizzical eyebrow. "I thought you said that man you were with, wasn't successful in his attempt to rape you. I thought you told me nothing happened ..."
"No, nothing did happen," Sherry got out unconvincingly. "What I mean is--"
"What you mean is--you're lying," Isabel supplemented. "There never was any man in any car, was there, darling?"
"Yes--there was."
"No, darling. You're the girl whose been living with those five men about a mile and a half down the beach," Isabel dropped in her lap, out of the clear blue.
Sherry's mouth dropped open and she stared up at the black-haired woman, dumbfounded. "What--what do you know about them?"
Isabel smiled softly. "We watched through our binoculars that day all of you arrived. We were very curious. It isn't often that we get visitors here at the beach during the off-season."
"What else do you know about them?" Sherry managed, fearfully.
Before Isabel could reply, Amy came back and halted at her side of the bed. She kept both hands behind her so that Sherry couldn't see what she'd brought with her from the drawer.
Isabel moved to the foot of the bed. Sherry hadn't been aware that there was a small crank there. As Isabel began to turn the crank slowly, that part of the bed directly under Sherry's buttocks lifted, not unlike a hospital cot. Only this one had been especially made for Amy and Isabel so that it raised the crotch several inches off the bed and held it there, at the same time spreading the legs wide apart, offering easy, unobstructed access to the entire genitalia area.
In her whole life, even with Gus and the others, Sherry had never felt so completely helpless. In her petrification, she didn't even notice what Amy held in her hands until the two girls got onto the bed, one at each side of her. That's when she saw the two long peacock feathers Amy was holding. Amy passed one of the feathers across to Isabel.
Sherry had heard that in the hands of an expert, feathers such as these could drive a woman slowly insane. In view of this, her scream was an automatic reaction as she felt Isabel dust the feather lightly over her tingling nipples. However, it was nothing to the sensation she experienced a moment later, when Amy drew the tip of the feather back and forth over her clitoris several times--and then took it away.
Sherry felt her tiny erectile grow stiff and reach out as if seeking further stimulation from the feather, the juices starting to flow freely in her vaginal passageway, moistening the labia. She jumped and made a tiny squeal of passion as the feather again brushed over her core, awakening every nerve and membrane in her body.
"Oh ... ah ... " she kept moaning in a kind of delirium, in cadence with each maddening stroke of the feather. The volume of her unintelligible mutterings grew louder and louder as the tantalizing feather seemed to increase in weight each new time it brushed over her clitty. The harsh sensation was like an army of voracious, thousand-legged insects crawling relentlessly through her womb to continue on through her entire body. She twitched and turned every which way, trying to- free herself from the cuffs that bound her. Tears streaked her cheeks and sobs of passion filled the room. It was as if every feeling inside her were converging on the same spot--to finally crash head on with devastating violence somewhere in her vulva. She arched upward with the impact and let out a shrill, ear-shattering scream . . . then she collapsed onto the bed in a delirium of ecstasy as her orgasm ran its devastating course through her body, gutting every conscious thought from her brain . . .
Somewhere in the gentle twilight sleep that followed, she heard one of them explain, "Wow! Is she ever a hot one. Are we going to have a ball with her!"
Exactly what the "ball" consisted of, Sherry wasn't sure. She knew only that she'd doze ... be awakened by some new far-out sexual act they were performing on her. . . stay awake long enough to climax . . . then fall back into precious sleep . . . never fully aware of precisely what it was they'd done to her ....