Chapter 6
Amy awoke and went to her morning duties with dazzling energy and a sense of physical well-being. Her mind and emotions... these were different matters; but she had the power to set aside her internal conflicts when there was work to be done and there was lots of it.
She'd never seen so many breakfast patrons and was soon buried in her work. Calvin, in the kitchen, did his cooking duties until the last of the crowd disappeared about ten o'clock. Then he threw off his apron.
"That's enough. I'm not going to open the garage today. If you need me I'll be down at the old hermit's cabin. See you at dinner." He took off.
She wasn't surprised. That left her alone to handle Mountain Rest, but lunch was mostly sandwiches and she felt especially strong today. Let him follow his bent. Since their fight Calvin had transferred his attention from her to Old Nickerson's cabin and the supposed money. She refused to think what he'd do if he found it.
Tim Hathaway and Lydia came down for breakfast about ten-thirty. Amy felt a sharp pang to realize that she'd had intimate relations with both of them, that neither knew of the other's affair with her; now each had a special shy look for her. She tried to be impersonal to cover her own shyness. It was like the aftermath of an intimate party where you feared you'd revealed too much to other persons and now wanted to pull back to a more distant focus.
Tim said he felt a cold coming on and planned to go back to bed to lick it, while Lydia said she felt great. She wanted to wash her Caddy and then drive down to Crescent Valley to pick up a new dress she'd seen there-an item for her honeymoon. They were very warm to one another and Amy limited her contact to telling Lydia that Calvin wasn't available for car service in case the Caddy was still acting up. Lydia assured her that the car worked fine and then Amy was swept back to work by another three carloads of tourists, all wanting late breakfasts.
Up in his room, Tim undressed and got into bed; but he wasn't sick. Two important projects pressed on his mind-first, the money in Old Nickerson's cabin, which he couldn't search for today with that idiot mechanic down there, as Amy said. Yet that made possible his second project, to get his prick in that most beautiful of all asses-Amy's. If Lydia took her drive alone to Crescent Valley... well, he'd wrestled with his conscience and won. A bachelor deserved a final fling before marriage and just one more trip wouldn't hurt at all. He dozed, dreaming erotic dreams...
Lydia came downstairs dressed in old jeans and got Amy's help in setting up the hose to wash the Cadillac. "I guess I'm a little crazy about my car," she told Amy. "Like some young guys that treat a car like a hot blonde. I like to wash it, keep it as clean as I do myself."
"Why not?" said Amy. "It's a beautiful car. Everyone should appreciate beauty."
Their hands touched and a spark seemed to jump between them. For a second their eyes met. It was over in a second but Amy went back to her duties with a shivery feeling that she could lesbian fuck the redhead again if she wanted to and it was just possible she's want to.
Looking at the figure of the woman she found it miraculous that such a dainty body could contain such passion or set her on fire so much. It was both exciting and frightening...
To Lydia, the fantastic lesbian experience of the night before had been a healing antidote to sex with the mechanic. Calvin had pulled her back to another time and opened old, secret passions she'd thought she'd overcome. But the glorious explosion of sex with Calvin's wife somehow restored her faith that she'd moved on past Simmons Garage. She felt free and open, relaxed and friendly and soon found an audience when a hippie and his girlfriend appeared at Mountain Rest. They rode together on a small motorbike and they stopped to talk to her before going into the restaurant.
The girl was hardly more than a teener, not yet fully developed and a little hard in her language, Lydia thought. Certainly she wasn't going to grow up to be a lady from the way she talked!
The man was older, nineteen or twenty and he had a golden body, tanned by a summer in the sun. Quite handsome, really. Lydia was curious about him because the day of the hippie had come and gone without touching Oakdale or her life there. She knew there were a few still around, young people who floated along the highways in the summer, living out of backpacks. She was glad he stopped to talk to her.
For his part, the young man, who said his name was Chris, seemed fascinated by her Cadillac. Soon he was helping her wash it while pointing out to her what a snobbish machine it was, wasteful of energy; yet his hands stroked it lovingly.
"Screw the Caddy," said the girl. "We came here for a decent meal, Chris. We also came here to get a for-Christ's-sake hot shower. Let's go in."
"You go ahead, Tippy," he said. The girl made a face and went on into the restaurant. After a while Lydia said: "Hadn't you better go in and join your girlfriend for breakfast?"
"I had mine," said Chris. "Some nuts and wild berries. It would sicken me to watch Tippy eat pancakes smothered with syrup."
They finished the washing chore and Chris slid behind the wheel, his eyes shining. "Going to take a trip, Mrs. Clark?"
"Well, I was planning to drive down to Crescent Valley."
"Hop in. You've got a chauffeur." His hands lovingly touched the controls.
"Chris!" She laughed. "Your girlfriend is waiting."
He grinned back at her. "Tell you how it is, Mrs. Clark. You go camping with somebody, you spend a lot of time together alone. After a few weeks you yearn for a new face, a new voice. My Tippy now- she's happy inside yakking it up with Mrs. Forbes. She'll be glad to have me out of her hair for a couple of hours. Come on."
Lydia hated to drive mountain roads and knew she couldn't count on Tim today. She was sorely tempted. "I'd have to think about it."
For an answer he got out, scooped her up bodily and put her in the passenger seat. "You see how easy it is? You just go!"
This was the way she'd always thought hippies were-impulsive, impatient with normal morality. It excited her to feel his strength when he scooped her up. He smelled so clean, outdoorsy. He was almost like a Greek god. Why not? Tim was letting her down-why not go ahead and have this adventure?
"All right," she laughed her consent.
They never reached Crescent Valley. As they drove along Chris began to sing in a high, mellow voice. This made Lydia feel very good as the sun shone down on the vast green forest. They floated through patches of light and shade and around sweeping turns with Chris singing his melodies, not any songs that she knew, but happy ones.
"I like that," she said after they'd gone away. "I never learned to sing."
He lectured her then. People raised in the city were afraid to sing, for fear other people would criticize them. City people rushed about and never took time to see their surroundings. If they did, they'd change the ugly cities to pretty ones. People of the city used little imagination and they wore clothes to hide their beautiful bodies from one another. All they thought about was money, money, work, work.
"I make necklaces," said Chris. "Also mood rings, bracelets, love amulets. Objects of beauty. I write songs and I give myself to nature."
He stopped the car in a small gulley and reached out a hand. "Come on. I'll show you a beautiful spot."
"If we're going to make Crescent Valley-"
"Damn your city!" he cried passionately. "There's got to be a time in your life to stop everything and go worship beauty."
He pulled her out of the car. Laughing at this unusual man, she allowed herself to be pulled into the woods. The spot he led her to was beautiful indeed, a wooded dell that was almost an outdoor chapel, where birds sang and squirrels stood shivering on forest logs to stare at them.
"Chris, it is beautiful. I-what are you doing?"
"I never wear clothes in the woods." His T-shirt was gone and his cut off shorts followed that. And that was all Chris wore. Lydia swallowed, seeing more of the nude golden man than she thought proper.
"I don't... can't... you shouldn't," she gulped. But he was already at the buttons of her shirt. "Oh, no, no!" she cried in fright. "City people!" he snorted in anger. "Nudity is dirty. Nudity is sex. I tell you, dear woman, that there's nothing more innocent nor pure than a wholesome human body without clothes. You'll see."
She kept protesting, but not nearly enough. Chris was very strong and she was intrigued and only half-scared and that wasn't enough to keep her clothes on her body. He assured her he had no personal intentions against her, so she found herself stepping out of her panties, naked in the forest.
"It's pretty... cool." She shivered, standing there awkwardly.
"We walk," he enthused. "We meld with nature." He took her hand and strode off.
"Our clothes!" she cried in panic.
"We'll get back to them," he said easily.
But she dragged against him again. "I'm afraid my feet are too tender, Chris."
They stopped and he looked exasperated. She hated to ruin his enthusiasm. She drew a lungful of crisp mountain air, beat her breast and gave an imitation Tarzan cry; then she smiled shyly at him. "How's that for a start."
He had to smile. "Pretty citified, but the spirit is willing."
At that moment she became aware that Chris had a hard-on, looking at her nude body. She felt a blush mount to her face. It was a straining, luscious hard-on that made her temples throb. His golden prick was so stiff it could've been cast in bronze.
"Oh, my goodness," she said.
"It's merely a tribute to your beauty, Lydia," he said. "It means nothing, except that nature is pure in me."
Well, it was making her cunt hot, but she thought it best not to let him know. He took her hand again and they walked a few steps and then he swung her around into his arms and kissed her. The feeling of his warm, strong, naked body pressing her, the feel of that hard cock digging into her soft stomach, made her gasp.
"I know," she managed. "It means nothing. You have no evil intentions. But C-Chris, I'm engaged. I can't let you k-kiss me."
"You're full of 'can'ts,'" he said. "How about this one? There's a pool up ahead near a waterfall where we could swim."
Her pulse still pounded. "Oh, Chris, I could never walk that far barefoot."
"Very well. There's an old hermit's cabin nearby. We'll go there." And he picked her up as easily as if she were his backpack and took her to Old Nickerson's cabin.
The cabin was a litter of old-fashioned stuff but not too messy. He told her the old hermit had died and no one lived here now. He said that there was supposed to be money buried here. His girlfriend, Tippy-he called her his nature wife-wasted a lot of time looking for the money, but that didn't interest him.
"Now we're going to play a game," he said and led her to a small bedroom.
"Chris, you said you had no intention to-" Zip! Before she understood what had happened, he'd forced her hands behind her and tied her wrists. While she protested and began to panic, he shoved her down on the bed, pulled her legs together and tied her ankles.
"Oh, my God, Chris!"
She began to twist and cry. How had she gotten herself into this impossible situation? She was naked, she was trussed on a bed in an isolated mountain cabin with a hippie madman. Terror began to possess her.
He stood above her, hands on his hips, cock jutting up. "City people!" he snorted. "Serious, scared, dull." He rolled his eyes. "I told you we were playing a game."
"What... game?"
"We're pretending that you're a slave girl in a small Arabian nation. I've bought you at an auction and brought you to my oasis to examine."
"Why, Chris... why must we play this crazy game?"
He sat on the bed and glared at her. "Because you can't sing. You can't discuss great philosophy, only what your next dress purchase is going to be. You can't walk or run in the forest or swim in the pool. At least we can use our imaginations and play a game."
"I don't want to be tied up."
"You've been tied up all your life, Lydia. And will continue to be. You play a couple of my games and you'll remember them with fondness when you're eighty."
At least he didn't plan to kill her.
"I won't have sex-" she began but he was already running his hands over her body.
"What're you d-doing?"
"Examining my purchase from the slave market. Ah, not bad. A little too weak to work in my fields, but a very soft skin, very soft."
His stroking hands were stimulating her. "Chris, this is-"
"Open your mouth. That's how I tell if any slave is healthy." He forced her mouth open, ran his fingers insolently over her teeth and gums and felt her tongue. He calmly wiped her saliva on his prick and she saw its satin gleam.
"Oh, Chrrrr-" He had seized her tongue and pulled it out of her mouth so far it hurt. She felt her sex burn rise at this arrogance, his familiarity of one of her body openings. She tried to pull her tongue back but he held it firm while she made protest sounds in her throat. Without her tongue to talk, she was reduced to being a squirming animal, she realized.
He had more insults for her. He ran his free fingers into her mouth to her gag point, making her surge up and try to free herself. He made her gag, not once, but several times, each time more of her adrenalin freeing, her body and nerves getting more stirred up. At last he released her tongue.
"So far, so good," he said.
"Chris, how dare you-"
"Shut up, slave, or I'll gag you." His hands palmed the nipples of her breasts and hot sex signals flashed down to her belly.
"I can't s-stand this game!" she moaned. "Untie me at once. I-" Chris paid no attention. He turned her over and examined her back closely. To her embarrassment he even pulled her buttocks apart and ran his finger along her seam. "No disease," he said. Then he turned her over, put his hand on her pelvic shelf and casually ran his finger into her cunt.
"Oh, God!" she moaned, lifting her loins. Pure sex fire raced through her body. She was already wet since first seeing his hard-on. The caressing hand started her oils to flow and she had the further shame of his now knowing he'd made her hot.
He just sat on the bed, smiling and jacking her off. "Did you know that old slave masters used to do this? A slave girl with a hot cunt would not only offer pleasure, she was probably eager to make new babies for the master's growing wealth."
"Chris... I'm... you're... you... mu-mustn't do this to meeeee!" The last as she shuddered and rose to fuck his plunging finger. It felt so good! Her sexual tension was higher than she could ever remember because of being tied, wrists and ankles, with her skin feeling hot and sensitive. She was totally helpless, vulnerable and open to a male as she'd never been in her life. Tied like this, she was absolutely under his control; the idea made her richly excited. Yet she wanted to maintain a shred of dignity and control.
"Really, Chris, I can't allow-oh, don't. DON'T!"
But he hummed merrily and fucked her faster with his finger. He was taking her body away from her.
She tried to be reasonable now. "Chris... you see... it's silly really, but I can't s-s-stand. She began to thrust back to his fingers, faster and faster, going into her hungry sex bitch. "Please- don't use me... " she begged.
"Slaves are bought to be used," he said. Then he bent over and sucked her standing nipple. Pure sex fire tore at her.
"OH, CHRIS!" She arched up and paid off for him, in strong, pulsing throbs. "Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah!" Her mind was in a turmoil as her body surrendered its sex treasure against her will. This callous use of her body humiliated her... and gave her an incredibly deep orgasm. She really felt like his worthless slave and it felt great not to have to be responsible for her dignity any more.
What he did next surprised her completely. He untied her and offered her the same dirty old neckties he'd used on her wrists and ankles.
"Tie me," he said, turning to offer his wrists. "Turnabout is fair play."
"What?" She sat up on the bed weakly, trying to adjust. "Oh, no Chris, this game-playing is too much-"
"TIE ME!" he roared. "I'm your helpless male slave bought at an auction!"
More to assuage his anger than from desire, Lydia bound his wrists and then his ankles, while he supervised the operation to make sure she got his bonds tight. Then he was on the bed in her former position, bound and delivered to her. It took her a while to adjust to this sudden reversal, one minute being used sexually by him and the next his offering to be used by her.
Lydia stared at the golden cock, still jutting up and suddenly her anger burst out. "All right, you... you... crazy hippie! I'll fix your water. You've spent all morning scaring me and attacking me. You'll be sorry!"
She looked around and found an old leather belt. She struck him across the stomach.
"Oh, please don't do that!" he begged. She couldn't tell whether he was acting or not, but suddenly she was into it with a rush of delight. Men had used her and given her trouble all her adult life. Now, by a freaky circumstance, here was a perfect example of the dominating breed delivered into her power.
Smack, smack, smack! At first her blows were light, but they got stronger and stronger as she punished him. The belt lay red welts across his belly and thighs. She knew she was really hurting him now as he twisted and begged for mercy.
"Please... don't... oh, mistress, I'm dying!" he moaned. His tears of pain looked real.
Her demon possessed her. "Drag me here, strip me, use my cunt! You vile male worm! Take that! That! That!"
She grunted in her effort, wildly stimulated to be so suddenly thrust from the slave position to that of the master.
"Oh, my God!"
He rolled in pain. His cock was softening now. Her anger seemed to peak and fall away. She was aghast at those red marks she'd put on his handsome body, at his groans of pain. She went for his mouth.
"Open your mouth," she commanded.
She seized his tongue and pulled it out so she knew it hurt him. But she didn't want to thrust her fingers in and make him gag. Instead she sawed against it with her finger.
"I'm using a knife," she told him. "I'm cutting off your tongue, slave. You'll never be able to seduce another female with your words and soft songs."
"Mrarrrr," he whimpered, pretending his tongue was gone.
Now she found that she was annoyed by his drooping cock. "How dare you go soft when I'm naked in your presence, you impotent fool!" she said. She was beginning to enjoy this game more and more.
She put her mouth on his cock and sucked it. The taste of his protein meat and the feel of the big cock rising to her mouth delighted her. When she'd covered it with rich saliva, she jacked him off, feeling the satin wetness, the sliding skin and the hard muscle underneath. What fabulous sex machinery he had!
"Let's see how high you can throw your worthless sperm!" she exulted, jugging his tool rapidly. He was hot now, his groans changed to sounds of sex pleasure. She felt under his cock to squeeze gently the large balls and felt her belly tingle at her realization that he carried a huge load down there that she could spurt forth to the world.
But she was too hot to jack him off. She pushed his thighs flat and mounted his hips.
"Slave, you are commanded to lie perfectly still. It is I who shall do all the fucking!"
Then she spread her legs and sat on his cock, oozing down on his hard-on. She almost went out of her mind as the golden prick parted her vagina and sunk into her so deeply that it touched her uterus.
"Ah, ah, ah, ah!" she gasped as she began to fuck up and down on his eager blade.
"Hah, hah," the "tongueless" man went under her. He was gobbling now in his pleasure as she slowly slid up and then down again with mind-blowing friction that set both their hearts to pounding. He thrust upwards, unable to hold still for her.
Lydia slapped his face. "I t-told you, don't f-f-f-fuck," she commanded.
It was delicious. She rode him at her will as her cunt expanded and thrilled and thrilled and he had to remain still, or try to. Every time she thought he moved too much, fucking up into her, she slapped his face. Every time she slapped his face, he dug his cock harder up in her in pain reaction. Wild!
But they'd reached the animal point. She glued her mouth on his and went into her animal bitch, fucking recklessly on his shaft and he sensed his freedom and thrust up into her full and willing. Just before she closed her eyes to go into her triumphant moment of glory, she thought she saw the door of the bedroom move, but she didn't care. Let the whole world walk in on her-she was getting off her cunt in a beautiful, dominating orgasm and that was that.
"Ohhh, Chris!"
"God!"
They froze at the same moment. They both whined their pleasure in harmony. Then her cunt spasms gloved around his cock like she had a free hand to work him, each throb driving her into a pink haze of pleasure. She felt his body-hot jism spurt into her, deep in her cunt as he gasped in pleasure. They twisted and spent copiously, he with his powerful balls, she with rich, squeezing throbs as her body jerked. When they slowed down they both panted and their bodies, belly to belly, oozed with sweat.
Her cunt was still hungry. "I'm going to fuck you again," she laughed. "Just keep it up in me. Don't go soft. Your master won't permit it."
To her utter delight and for the first time in her life, she achieved a double fuck, kissing him, licking his body, working her loins so that he never fell below half-hard and soon was straining up her channel with new vigor. That fuck was incredibly soft and delicious because they frictioned over her rich juices and his come from the prior orgasm. After a silken ride they slid into orgasm, not the wild payoff of the first time, but with deep, sensual and slow freeze that led to an incredibly rich spend. To Lydia, the feel of that cock fountain spurting for a second time with cream she'd worked up in his guts was a triumph of her sexuality and her mastery over him.
At last she got off him and staggered to the bedroom door. "I'll need a knife to cut your bonds," she said. "My fingers aren't nearly strong enough."
Beyond the bedroom door stood Calvin Forbes, his cock in his hand, his eyes wild with voyeuristic delight.