Chapter 5
Sharon had to restrain her giddy feelings. She told him a somber and fanciful tale. A cruel husband fond of vicious beatings. That would explain her still-painful welts if, as she hoped, she was able to lure Dexter Chatsworth into bed.
He was eying her lush body with more than casual interest. She said nothing about the innocent daughter she'd left behind or the well-hung son she'd run off with in a fit of wild passion. Sharon belabored the beatings she'd suffered, the chains and stinging electric shocks, all without saying how that came about.
That sparked Dexter Chatsworth's interest even more. Several times he clicked his tongue and muttered sympathetically, "You poor dear." The last time he added, "Such a soft and delectable creature made to endure unthinkable abuse. You probably dread the thought of a man even touching you now."
"Oh, no!" she blurted quickly. "I-I long for a man who's gentle and kind."
Chatsworth smiled. "I'm on my way home. Will you join me for dinner and more of this ... enlightening conversation?"
"Oh, yes. Yes, of course!" Sharon had to strain so as not to seem overly anxious. "I mean, I have no money and no place to stay."
"You'll have things you never dreamed of with me," he said with smiling assurance. "I'm anxious to see what you look like in an elegant long gown, diamonds and furs."
"D-d-diamonds and f-furs?" Sharon Parker had long dreamed of such luxuries, but her husband's salary was never enough to afford them. Not with two kids to raise.
"There are closets full of things I think you'll like," Chatsworth said. "My lovely wife died years ago, but I've never had the heart to dispose of her things. They should fit you perfectly. She was young and ripely curved like you. She even had the same long auburn hair." Then his deep voice became more wistful and sad. "She was also struck down by a speeding car. You can imagine what flashed through my mind when I first saw you stumbling in the headlight glare."
Sharon felt an uneasy lump in her throat. "You must have loved her dearly."
"Yes, I did. And it thrills me to meet someone so much like her."
That uneasy feeling increased. Sharon didn't like the idea of trying to fill another woman's shoes, but she was desperate and decided to play along with Dexter Chatsworth's romantic illusions. She edged closer and rested a hand lightly on his thigh. "You must have been terribly lonely all this time."
He nodded. "There's never been anyone who could take her place. Not until now, that is."
Sharon asked softly, "Was she sexy?"
"Oh, yes," he said with a grin and a sideward glance. "Very sexy. At times it was hard for me to satisfy her desires."
She slid her hand a little higher and said, "I don't think it will be difficult for you to satisfy me."
Sharon could feel the swelling of his half-erect cock. Anxious fingers teased the long prickshaft through the pants of his tailored suit.
"You've found something you like already," he remarked. "Something you might like better diamonds and furs?"
"Ooooh, yes! Much better!" With her breath quickening, Sharon eased down the zipper of his fly and carefully lifted his swelling cockshaft out. She stroked his prick fondly and made purring noises of lewd delight. "I've never seen one so big!"
Dexter Chatsworth grinned contentedly and headed the car into the hills west of town. Traffic thinned. The houses became larger and set farther apart. They passed homes with spacious lawns, tennis courts and swimming pools, but Sharon's rapt attention was focused on his astounding cock, which had to be a foot long.
Chatsworth's home was larger and more spectacular than any seen along the way. Sharon might have expected that, but the sight of the hilltop estate still dazzled her. She was happily sucking the millionaire's enormous hot prick when he pulled the car to a stop.
He leaned back then and let Sharon's swirling lips work their magic on his long prick. She used some of the intricate moves Veronica had taught her, and she secretly blessed the lewd bitch for having freed her from Mike's cruel and self-indulgent demands.
Chatsworth sighed and moaned in delight. Her head bobbed between his hard-muscled belly and the tilt steering wheel which now he could move a little farther out of the way. He reached under her chest and fondled her luscious big tits.
"Hhhmmm," she purred.
His touch was loving and kind. He teased her nipples hard through the fabric of her blouse and bra, then worked his hands to free her lush creamy tits.
With hands cupped on her naked breasts, he whirled her distended nipples, pumped his hips and came in her mouth.
"Grungh!" he roared, bucking his hips as his huge cock fired. Sharon's lips gripped the root of his mighty prickshaft and felt the fiery spurts of cum shoot deep into her throat.
She fondled and milked his balls, fleshy orbs almost the size of a hen's eggs.
He grunted fiercely and pumped cum into her for a full minute. Sharon's throat pulsed and heaved wildly, swallowing hard to keep up with his gushing flow. Salty-sweet fuck cream kept rising and made her cheeks bulge. Silver dribbles escaped from the corners of her mouth. Frothy cock-whipped fuck cream glossed her chin and upper lip. Just a moment before she thought her lips might burst, the jetting spurts slowed and stopped.
His giant cock quaked softly in the snug hollow of her sleek throat.
"No one has ever sucked my cock better," he said. "Not even my loving wife. She was never able to swallow it all."
Sharon raised her head and licked her lips, downing the last traces of quicksilver cum with a satisfied smile.
"My pussy will please you even more," she promised. "Sucking your beautiful big cock has made me so hot!"
"We'll get to that later," he promised. "A man my age needs a little time to rest between rounds. Come inside, I'll show you to your room."
Chatsworth took her to an elegant suite on the second floor. The main room was huge, at least thirty feet square. There was a marble fireplace with a gas log already aglow and next to that a canopied bed spread and trimmed with white satin and delicate lace.
On the left there was a dressing room and a closet larger than the rundown apartment she'd left in despair. Through the open door, Sharon could see the soft glitter of silk and rich brocade-more beautiful dresses than she'd ever seen in a store. The opposite wall was lined with sleek furs, at least twenty long coats, jackets and stoles in every conceivable color.
"Nothing in this room has been touched since my dear wife departed," Chatsworth said.
He worked the dial on a wall safe in the closet, opened the heavy steel door and displayed a black velvet-lined tray filled with glittering diamonds, rubies and pearls.
Sharon gaped in awe and fondled the sleeve of a silky dark mink. The jewels glittered like stars before her eyes. She was almost too excited to breathe.
"Wear what you like best," he said. "I know you'll look ravishing. Now I must tell the cook to fix a special dinner for two. I'll send the maid for you when it's ready to be served. And after we've dined by candlelight, my darling, you and I will return to your bed chamber. It's been so long!"
She smiled in delighted anticipation and watched him leave the room, no caring that she was playing a role in some kind of twisted fantasy. If Dexter Chatsworth wanted to think of her as his long-lost wife, she was more than willing.
Sharon tried on a dozen different dresses and furs before finding what she thought was just the right combination-a long gown of soft, clinging chiffon, snow-white and virginal looking. She topped that with a flowing straight stole of silky blue fox so long that it almost reached the floor.
Standing before a full-length mirror, Sharon admired the results, idly stroking the rich fur that reminded her of Veronica's long hair.
She then studied gems worth a king's ransom and chuckled. "The poor man, indeed. He has all this and a twelve-inch cock! He has everything I want in this world, and I'll soon have him wrapped around my little finger!"
The maid arrived moments after Sharon had selected a necklace, bracelets and earrings to wear. She was a tall, hawk-faced old woman wearing a somber black uniform that draped her gaunt figure like a shroud. She gawked at Sharon and gasped, "Ooooh, dear!"
Sharon looked back at the most repulsive old biddy she'd ever seen. She felt like a young beauty queen standing beside the woman.
"Is something wrong?" she asked sweetly, stroking the fur with a hand heavily weighted in precious stones.
"No, ma'am, it's just that you look so much like her. His former wife, I mean. I'm sure the master will be quite pleased."
"More than pleased, I hope." She would give anything to be the mistress of this grand house, and that look showed in her cool green eyes.
"The master is waiting for you downstairs," the ugly old maid said without emotion.
Sharon followed her down to the main floor, then down again on a narrow stairway lined with cold gray stone.
"I don't understand. Didn't we just pass the dining room?" she asked.
"I know best what the master wants," she replied snippishly. "I was his faithful servant before you were born."
Sharon vowed then to fire the old bitch as soon as she had the power to do so. Surely Dexter Chatsowrth would indulge his new wife to that small extent.
The stairway curved and descended into a chilling gloom. It looked more like the route to an ancient dungeon than to a room where a wealthy man would want to entertain a special guest.
"Are you sure you're taking me to the right place?" she asked.
"I'm certain," the maid said. "There have been others like you."
"Others like what?"
They had stopped outside a heavy steel door at the base of the stairs. The maid unlocked it and pushed Sharon roughly inside.
She stumbled into total darkness, shrilling a scream of terror that echoed hollowly in what had to be a large room. Behind her, the maid cackled like an old witch as she closed and relocked the door.
"I mean greedy fortune hunters," the maid said in a voice sharp as broken glass.
The maid must have had eyes like a bat. She grabbed Sharon's arms in the dark and wrenched them into a pair of cold steel bands.
Sharon screamed in horror, recalling the manacles Veronica had used to restrain her. These were larger-broad metal bands linked by two feet of heavy chain that weighed her arms down and made it useless to struggle. She shivered as the ice-cold ratchet jaws clicked tightly shut and heard Dexter Chatsworth's deep voice chuckling some distance away. His laughter was cold and steely, hard as the shackles that encircled her wrists.
He struck a match and lit a torch slanting out from the stone wall of the room in an ancient-looking, wrought-iron holder.
Chatsworth stood at the edge of the circle of light, but Sharon could only recognize him by his voice. He was clad from head to toe in a hooded black leather suit so tight that it might have been sprayed on.
There were slits in the hood for his eyes, a narrow oval to expose his lips and an open ring in the crotch that let his cock and balls hang out.
The maid snared the chain between Sharon's wrists with a hook that dangled from the high ceiling above. Then she pulled on something in the gloom. Gear teeth clanked overhead and the hook began to rise.
Sharon's arms were yanked up, her lush body lifted until her toes dangled an inch off the floor.
Chatsworth said, "Thank you, Olga. You've served me well, as always."
The old woman flashed a snaggle-toothed grin and said meekly, "It's my pleasure, master."
By then Chatsworth had lit three more torches, one on each wall of the underground chamber. If it wasn't an authentic medieval dungeon, it was at least a frightening replica of one.
Sharon dangled with arms stretched painfully above her head. She revolved slowly, taking it all in with a frightened gasp. The woman had never seen so many ominous torture devices assembled in one room before.
He strode toward the anguished beauty with an ominous-looking cat-of-nine-tails tucked under his arm. Her long wrap of blue fox had slipped off when Sharon's arms were yanked overhead. The maid Olga grabbed it and scurried away.
Chatsworth glared through the narrow slits in his leather hood.
"I don't believe a word you said in the car," he said bluntly. "Now I want the truth!"
"Most of what I said was true," she moaned, still revolving slowly before him. "My husband did force me from our home."
"Then I assume he must have had an excellent reason. Why else would a man rid himself of such a luscious treasure?"
"I can't tell you the reason. I'm so ashamed," she sobbed.
"You were not much troubled when preening before the mirror in the room upstairs," he said. "That mirror is actually a pice of one-way glass. I was watching you dress from only two feet away, and the room is wired so that I heard every word."
Sharon trembled and cried, "Oh, my God!"
"I gather there was incest between you and your son. Is that why your husband threw you out of the house?" He brandished the nine-tongued lash in a black-gloved hand.
"Yes, that's the reason," she said fitfully. "Now please let me down. My arms are being wrenched out of their sockets."
"You'll know far greater pain before this night is through," he said with a wicked cackle of laughter. "You're a worse slut than even my faithless wife. And she's a cheap whore worse than the one you were talking to just before that kid pushed you in front of my car."
"I thought you loved your wife. I thought she died."
"You weren't telling the truth at first, why should I? I treated that bitch like a princess, and she ran off with my fucking chauffeur. She bragged that his cock was even bigger than mine, and I think you're the same kind of cunt!"
Chatsworth's arm flew back and the cat's nine tongues all hissed. It blurred forward as Sharon's helpless dangling form turned to face him again. The soft white chiffon covering her tits flew in tatters. Nine strands of knotted black leather striped pain across her tender tits.
Her howling scream echoed to fill the room.
"If you'd been honest with me, we'd be dining by candlelight, sipping vintage wine with broiled lobster tail. All the treasures in that room upstairs might have been yours. But since you tried to deceive me--" He broke off with an angry grunt and the lash flew at her again.
Biting tongues of leather ripped more fabric of her sleek gown. Sharon blubbered a pleading cry of torment, so stung by the fiery pain that she lacked strength to scream.
He whipped her again and again in a frenzy of vengeful rage.
Fan-like patterns of blazing welts streaked her shivering skin front and back. Sharon's head tossed with each smarting crack of the lash. Her long hair swirled as she spun faster, propelled by force of the whip. She gasped faintly and her head fell limp.
Chatsworth snapped the fingers of his free hand and said, "Olga, douse her with ice water. We don't want the miserable bitch to pass out."
The scrawny, snaggle-toothed maid rushed forward with a bucket. She hurled the chilling cold water with a fiendish grin.
Sharon's welted body convulsed. She snapped alert, wide eyed in shock. "That's salt water!"
It made the crisscross pattern of blood-red welts burn worse than before. "Pull off her wet panties, Olga. We don't want her to catch cold."
Sharon snarled and used the last of her waning strength to kick at the maid. Olga ducked to the side, then lunged forward and ripped her panties off with one swipe of her claw-like right hand.
"Taste her cunt for me and see if you think it's fit to eat." Sharon's body was hanging limp, racked by numbing pain. But she twitched and jerked when the beady-eyed old bitch parted her legs and buried her crooked teeth in her drenched crotch.
"Yugh!" Olga hacked and spit in disgust. "No, master. She tastes awful! Her pussy is full of stale cum."
Chatsworth grinned behind the oval mouth opening in his leather hood. "Then bring a hose and clean her out," he said. "And do her ass while you're at it. I'm sure her son has fucked that too."
The delighted old maid skittered sideways like a crab, clicking her crooked teeth in anxious anticipation. "Then would you like me to taste her again, master? Just to make sure that she's perfectly clean?"
"Yes, Olga. You can feast on her. It will take a lot to warm an ass and pussy that have been flushed with ice water."
Sharon sobbed. "Why are you doing this to me? I sucked your cock in the car and swallowed your cum. I'd have done anything you asked of me."
"You will yet, but not to get my money. After you satisfy Olga's hunger for fresh cunt-"
"Please don't let that old witch touch me!"
"It's better to be an old witch than a greedy young whore!" Olga snapped as she came back dragging a hose. The end was fitted with a gleaming brass nozzle molded to look like Chats worth's huge prick. She twisted the butt end and turned on a stinging sharp spray.
Olga turned the hose on their dangling captive and started her turning like a pinwheel. Sharon got dizzy and felt sick to her stomach. The maid stopped the flesh-biting spray for a moment, just long enough to ram the brass cock-like thing deep into her dripping pussy. Then she twisted the water back on and listened to Sharon's chilling scream.
Jetting cold water filled her sleek cunt with a force no man's cock could match. Sharon's eyes bulged and flooded with tears. Her tender insides strained almost to the bursting point.
Olga yanked the gushing brass nozzle out and leaped back. Sharon's water-filled pussy geysered itself clean. The maid whirled Sharon around while her cunt was still dripping and gave her ass the same treatment.
The wizened maid cackled lewdly, yanked on the brass nozzle and leaped back again. Sharon's strained gut voided itself with explosive force. She swayed, suspended, numbed by the cold, gut-wrenching pain.
Olga said, "Now let's see if you're sweet enough to eat!"
She parted Sharon's dangling legs and lifted to hoist one knee over each of her hunched shoulders.
Sharon winced at the thought of having her cunt even touched by the withered old hag. Olga's tongue lashed and her sharp teeth nipped soft pussy lips voraciously enough to draw traces of blood.
"Yyyuuummm," Olga purred. "She's cold as ice, but she tastes much better. Clean and fresh as a tender young virgin."
"We know she isn't that," Chatsworth said in sneering contempt. "She's a perverted son-fucker and a devious fortune hunter."
Sharon moaned, shamed and sickened by the old woman's wagging tongue. Her strokes were crude and quick, like a thirsty dog lapping at a water pan. Still she was able to make Sharon's clit tingle.
Dexter Chatsowrth watched the well-endowed beauty writhe and squirm with unwanted delight. His awesome cock swelled harder each time he heard her gasp a breathy moan.
Olga's arthritic hands clawed the soft cheeks of Sharon's ass and forced her splayed cunt hard against her lips. She hated the younger woman for having such a lush figure and a deliciously sweet cunt so sleek and fiery with desire ... all things time had taken from her.
Sharon felt herself rising toward a climax despite being repulsed by the gnarled old woman's fiendish hunger. She couldn't look at Olga without thinking of her own old age.
Because of that, Chatsworth's devoted maid was the most fearsome instrument of torture in the entire room.
Chatsworth watched with his huge cock throbbing, feeling quite benevolent for allowing the old woman her lewd pleasure. He owed Olga that much at least. She had been the first woman he had ever fucked as a boy.
"All right, Olga. You can let her down now," he said with a smile.
"Yes, master."
The chain slowly descended until Sharon could stand. She wobbled, unsteady of her feet from the pain of a severe whipping and the ravaging force of the hose. Her body ached inside and out.
"Now," Chatsworth said in a low voice, "I want you to suck Olga's wrinkled old pussy to a climax."
"No!"
"It's that or the lash!" he warned.
"I'd rather be whipped!"
"Have it your own way. Just tell me when you've changed your mind." He faked a sidearm swing of the lash low and she dropped her manacled hands down to protect her cunt.
He brought the hissing cat up and back, striking hard across her cheek. Sharon screamed and he struck her face again on the other side.
"All right! Enough!" she cried.
"Be sure to make Olga think this is something you really want to do."
"I'll try." Sharon's cheeks were both smarting, red with welts and blushing shame. How she wished now that she'd never left home. "Olga, come here, please. Lie down on the bed. Since you gave me such pleasure with your tongue, I want to return the favor. The master has given permission for me to suck your cunt and make you cum."
"How kind of the master," Olga said brightly. "But he must know that I haven't had a climax in more than twenty years."
"You will with me," Sharon said through gritted teeth, knowing Chatsworth would demand it-and that his whip hand remained poised in case she should fail.