Chapter 7
Sally didn't remember much about being taken out of the shackles that had made her ankles and wrists so swollen and sore. She had very little recollection of the Kuafman couple wrapping her in a fur coat and paying an enormous sum of money to the head mistress for her.
She did remember bobbing and weaving in the middle of the room. Feeling still hot and bothered, aroused, slightly bemused, very abused. And hurt. God, was she hurting.
"Where are you taking me?" she asked as the couple escorted her out. Again the beige and brown tones of the reception room glanced past her. She felt as if she were on a roller coaster. A roller coaster going up and down, but leading nowhere, nowhere she wanted to go.
"We've taken a little suite, just for the occasion," the tall, reddish-blonde woman said. They both edged her out the door and down the long corridor. Had someone drugged her? The hall was pitching and rolling like a ship on a storm-tossed sea. And she was seized with a bout of nausea, to accompany the bad trip.
"I think, I think I'm gonna throw . ... " she broke away from the man's grasp a moment and felt herself heave up and over the side rails as she tossed her vomit onto the fire extinguisher perched on one side of the hall.
"This is a sick girl," Bob Kuafman said, wondering why they had picked her anyway. But as the fur coat slipped off her back and he glimpsed the gorgeous drop-dead delectable figure on the little slave, he nodded to himself in understanding.
Funny thing, too, she looked a little like his own wife. The same coloring. Though his wife's hair was more reddish and straighter. They were both willowy. And stacked. Then, too, they both turned him on just looking at those voluptuous tits of the girl's and thinking about the big, stiff upturned ones his wife had.
"Let's get her to the rooms right away," Charlene said, grabbing her around the wrist and guiding toward the "Fire Exit' door.
Somehow the three of them made their way out it. They sped down the hotel hallway toward the elevator. The vista did look familiar to Sally, but in her vague dazed state of awareness, she couldn't quite place it.
When the elevator opened, however, it came back to her a little. There were those black men again, with the red fezzes, bobbing and grinning to each other. Until she got on. Then they stiffened up and stared blankly ahead. The whole scene made Sally think she was in a marketplace in Marakesh or Tangiers. The black men were slave traders, the couple gripping her wrists were white slave kidnappers. She was going to be taken to some mysterious port of call and forced to live with a eunuch in a harem or some other despicable Asian fate.
"Help," she tried to speak through parched, dried lips, "I don't want to live in a harem."
Again, the stony passengers of the elevator ignored her outburst.
The elevator chugged up to the thirty-fourth floor and opened as Sally felt herself being nudged off. She tried to wave a limp goodbye to the black men, the last humans she was afraid she would ever again see on this earth before she was banished to the interior of a sheik's palace. How sad, how romantic, how painful. And speaking of pain, those welts on her back were really starting to have their way with her.
"Owwwwwwww," she said as the couple and she made their way down the hall.
"We'll have to do something about those bruises," the woman said, quite calmly, "right away."
Sally was aware that they weren't moving any more. She watched impassively as the man turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open. He kicked at it with his foot as he caught her just before she slid to the floor.
Suddenly, the three of them were inside and someone was running the shower. She heard ice being poured out of an ice bucket. Hell of a time for a drink, she thought to herself. Then, she felt the ice, now wrapped in a cool terry cloth towel, being applied to her head. Another pack was slapped on her back.
She knew a few moment later that she was standing under a cool shower. And then she was being dried off. Very thoroughly, too. She could hear giggling and talking, someone even started stroking her breasts, not bad, if she had been in the mood for it. She wasn't at that particular moment.
"Let's get her to bed," the woman's voice spoke up, "Then let's slip this down her."
Sally wondered what the hell they were going to slip down her, but she was unable to do so much as ask.
She felt a pair of smooth, massaging hands rub a little balm onto her welts and some of the pain went away.
"Here," a male voice said, "drink this."
She felt her head being held up and a glass of liquid come up to her lips. She drank eagerly, only dimly aware that the liquid had a sweet, sticky undertaste. She lay her head back on the pillow or something soft and felt herself nod, nod, nod off into a deep, dreamless sleep.
When she woke up, she felt alert and a whole lot clearer. She blinked and stared up at the ceiling. Now, if she could just remember who she was and how she got here, everything would fall naturally into place. She was sure.
"Welcome back to the world of the living," a satiny smooth voice said down to her reassuringly.
"Oh," Sally said, hopefully, "It's good to be alive."
"I think so, ' the dark, curly-haired man with the build like Apollo said to her.
"By the way," she said, batting her eyes and fluffing her hair up, "who are you?"
A long pause. Then the honey voice of the sexy woman came to play like a zither in her ears. "You can think of us as, well, as your captors."
"What?" Sally said, sitting hard up in bed and feeling for the covers, which were no where to be found.
"Relax," the barrel-chested man said, "perhaps that word makes you frightened. And we wouldn't want you to be. At least, not yet."
Sally stared at the pair in horror. What were these two doing here anyway? They were dressed beautifully. That was evident. The woman was wearing a long black gown with a very revealing dip in the front. The man had on a smoking jacket, and a pair of black satin pants underneath. They looked like they were about to take brunch on the terrace. Only there was no terrace and it wasn't time for brunch.
"What do you want from me?" she said with those big, green innocent eyes that invariably got her into hot water. "What am I supposed to be doing here?"
"Just exactly what you're doing," the man said, smiling a sexy smile out of the corner of his mouth. He looked like Rhett Butler.
"I'm sitting in a strange room with two strange people, and I don't mind telling both of you, I feel strange about it," Sally countered, wondering if that argument made any sense whatsoever.
"You're pleasing us," the woman crooned, "by your presence. Can that be bad?"
"I don't know," Sally said, wishing she had more on that a flimsy towel wrapped around her like a sarong, "I've stopped thinking in terms of good and bad ever since this morning."
"Like us," the man said, pacing the floor at the foot of her huge, brass bed. "We've also stopped thinking in terms of good and bad. You see, we, my wife and I that is, we have come to believe only in the states of pain and pleasure. We make no value judgments about either of them. As far as we are concerned, good and bad are matters of personal choice. '
Sally thought hard about that one a moment. And she didn't like it one bit.
"Does the phrase "consenting adult" mean anything to you?" she asked, with one eye on her peek-a-boo terry cloth sarong. It seemed to be slipping off of her. "Or how about the word, "kidnapping." You like that one? Maybe the term "federal offense"? She felt suddenly that her sarong was not slipping at all. It was being pulled off. Pulled off her battered and abused gorgeous little body. Yanked right down over her popping big tits and silky pussy mound. By the woman sitting right there beside her.
"You are tasty," the woman said, bringing her hand up and pinching one of Sally's rosy round nipples. "I'd like to play with you."
"I don't think you want to play," Sally said, feeling her nipple respond despite her attempts to discourage it. It bobbed up like a life buoy in troubled waters. Hard and bouncing. "I think you have something else in mind."
"Don't be too cynical" the man said, "just because you've been through a rough patch."
"Rough patch?" the girl said, incredulously, "I've just been beaten to within an inch of my life. And you call that a rough patch?'
"The question," the woman said now, prowling her hand over toward Sally's other succulent big nipple, "is not whether you were beaten or not, but if you enjoyed it."
Sally bit her bottom hp and wished to hell she could button it there. She thought hard before she responded.
"Yes and no," she said, feeling a little creamy in her jeans. The woman was getting her more than a little aroused with her insistent fondling. "On the one hand, it hurt like hell. And I won't deny it. On the other, it was sort of...."
"Kinky?" the man interrupted her.
"Yeah," she said, nodding her head and feeling her nipples harden like clay in a kiln. "How did you know?"
"Because I've been there, Sweetheart," the man said, standing up and pulling his robe off.
Sally caught a glimpse of his he-man chest before he turned around so that she could see the welt scars on his back. They looked so cruel and heartless. Also, they looked intriguing.
"Oh," she said, feeling the woman's hand slither down toward the crack between her legs.
"You've gotten a little bruised down here," the woman purred, "I'm going to rub some salve in. It won't hurt."
Sure enough. She reached for a tan jar of something or other and scooped up a gob of it onto her fingers. Then she proceeded to ply Sally's crack with the most elegant, smotheringly suggestible hand movements. Her little lingers were everywhere. Covering and fondling and probing and circling. Her cunt lips felt like they were being kissed by a herd of butterflies.
Sally felt a little tinge of embarrassment as she realized her cunt lips were clacking together again. They always insisted on doing this at the slightest provocation. And right now, they sounded like a freight train on a loose track.
She wasn't too sure, but it felt like the man's hands had joined the woman's. One person couldn't possibly be touching her in all those places at once. She felt herself melt like a weeping candle. She was so ready, so completely ready to give herself over to the care of these two, and it felt so damn good to have two such adept people working on you, bringing your cunt lips together and out, together and out. Getting your clitoris worked up like a steam shovel.
"Oh, God," she heard herself say as she slumped down onto the bed, "would one of you like to fuck me?"
She opened her eyes immediately as soon as she felt the absence of that delicious stroking. There was no one plying her cunt lips together or pinching her nipples. She looked up to see the man slipping out of his silky pajama bottoms. She saw his schlong dangling between his tree trunk thighs. She blinked in disbelief. At least maybe he was going to fuck her, that would feel good just about now.
She could see the woman at the other side of the next bed slipping out of her gown. Her tits looked like two snow-covered ski jumps with red flags waving atop them. She had the most lustrous strawberry blonde bush and the straightest, creamiest legs. Curvy in all the right places.
Christ, Sally thought to herself. Maybe they're both going to fuck me. Okay. I guess I'm up for it.
Then she watched as the man slipped into a black leather jock strap with an ugly steel zipper mounted on front. He tucked his enormous whang inside and zipped the thing up with a huge, steel roar.
The woman was getting into her own set of black leathers. A whale boned corset with grommets in the front and laces that she had to pull in tight and tie off. The thing looked like leather, and it certainly clung to her like it was.
She reached down and retrieved a black bikini bra from the bed. She could barely stuff her gigantic tits into it, but after a struggle, she snapped it up in the back. Then she sat down and eased her legs and calves and thighs and stunning white hips into a tight little leather garter belt with long free-swinging garter. She reached over and grabbed a pair of web-meshed stockings and began to stretch them on tantalizingly over her toes, then inch by inch up her legs.
Sally was aware that the man was binding his waist with a huge leather cinch belt. Gigantic steel loops hung from it. Then she noticed that one of those steel loops wasn't empty. A thick English riding crop was stuck in it.
The woman stuck her leg up high and pulled a skin tight leather boot with crisscross steel stays on it onto her foot. Then she zipped it up. The heel was about as thick as a mattress. She repeated the procedure on her other foot.
The blonde girl sighed and wished to hell her cunt wasn't as wet as it was right now. Then she saw the woman stand up, take a mask off the night stand and put it on over her face. Her lovely features disappeared, and in their place, a mean-looking black leather mask adorned with silver sequins.
The man grabbed a similar mask, only without the sequins and popped it on over his handsome features.
Then the two of them advanced toward Sally as she cowered down in the bed.
"Follow us, Slave," the woman commanded, "do our bidding as we order you to, and you will survive this ordeal. But if you cross us, if you attempt to defy us in any way, we will be forced to retaliate mercilessly. Do you understand?"
Sally nodded her head meekly.
She felt the man's knee thrust up into her groin. And that hurt!
"Address your mistress as 'Mistress', Slave!" the man roared.
Again, the wave of hopelessness hit Sally square in the face. These people meant what they said. And she didn't want to try to defy them in case they didn't.
"Sit," the man said, going over to a swivel chair at the enormous hotel room desk and twirl it toward her.
Sally wished she had something more to put on her rear end. Or something to cover her breasts or her open exposed pussy, but she was fresh out of luck. She held her head down and made for the chair. She climbed up on it and felt the brisk stiff leather seat intrude on the white soft sanctity of her ass cheeks.
"Kiss my boot," the woman shot down from her lofty heights. She was standing on eight inch heels and they made her dizzy with power.
Sally sat with her head bowed as the woman brought her leathered foot up sharply and stuck it right in her face.
"Lick it, Slave!" the man coaxed as he elbowed her with the brunt end of his riding crop.
She had to admit, they both presented a powerful argument for doing exactly as they commanded.
She stuck her throbbing, hot pink tongue out and let it swoop down over the leather toe. She made contact with the smooth, black, shiny leather with her wet, pulsating tickler tongue. The connection was electric.
Sally felt her tongue go soft at once and begin to slobber and slaver all over the woman's big boot tip. The leather was exquisite to the taste and touch. It was so brutal, so forced, so inexplicably exciting. She was totally in their power, totally wed under their thumb. They could do with her whatever they wished and she would have to obey. She felt her eyes snap shut as she licked fervently. She could only hope they would be good to her. She was getting extremely excited doing this.
The man looked down at the girl's shapely backside as she licked and slurped his wife's boot. The sight of that girl humbling herself before the iron hand of his power-crazed wife made him instantly hard. He could not control himself. The sight of that blonde hair flowing onto his wife's harsh boot head made him unbelievably hard and throbbing and pulsating and huge. He could feel his cock thrashing against the metal zipper case. It was demanding to be set free.
Charlene Kuafman could feel the arousal rising and falling in her big, heaving tits. She could feel it well up inside her cunt, too, thickening her lips and making them weep with anticipation. The sight of this slender, voluptuous helpless young girl leaning down and humbling herself in front of her made her heady with power and desire.
"I think this slave is a born sucker!" she said, drawing her boot away from the eager girl's mouth. "Let's give her something more challenging to suck on."
She snapped her fingers and ordered her dominant over to her side. She pointed to his throbbing leather basket.
He straddled the girl's narrow white thighs and brought his hips up so hard he stuck the black pouch right in her face. It was hot and swelling up hotter every second.
"Now you," the woman snarled, "Open that zipper with your teeth!"
Sally felt shame and degradation burn onto her cheeks and forehead. How dare these two ask her to do such a low thing. It was unthinkable. She shook her head back and forth a few times, defying them.
"You dare to defy me?" the blonde temptress recoiled, "Never!"
She snapped her fingers and Sally felt a huge stiff neck bracelet encircle her tiny neck. It clanked shut and held her head so rigidly in place she feared her neck would snap if she moved in either direction. Then she felt her head being pulled back, probably by a leash hooked onto the neck cuff. They must have anchored it somewhere, because she really couldn't move her head. Terror gripped her. Fear covered her like the night and she began to shake.
"Again I command you, Slave," the woman said, bringing that big, thick riding crop down over her head in way she could see it, "Unzip your Master's pants, with your teeth."
Sally blocked out the pain around her neck by closing her eyes and trying to forget about it a moment. No good. And besides that, the smell and feel of hot leather was blistering her lips.
She must have hesitated a moment too long. She felt the familiar gripping against her wrists. The man was putting manacles on her. She looked to see them snap shut, but no. It was a rope. She was being tied up, tied right there into that chair, like a martyr to a stake.
"Oh, no," she cried out, "please."
"Do as we say, Slut," the woman crowed, "or worse will happen to you."
Sally swallowed hard and poked her neck out as far as the iron brace would allow her. She bared her teeth toward the silver steel zipper tab and opened her mouth wide. She brought her mouth down on the steel protuberance and gripped it hard. Then she began to tug at it with all the muscles in her mouth. It came down stiffly and with great difficult, but still she gripped and tugged and pursued it as far as it would go. The hot, hard bundle inside didn't make things any easier.
"Now, work his meat out with your tongue, Vile Wench!" the woman snapped, bringing the riding crop down hard onto the back of Sally's head. It felt like a guillotine blade.
Sally pried the man's huge cock out of its leather cage. It wasn't easy, either. His prick was so huge and stiff and throbbing and hard and pulsating, it practically defied touch. Her mouth muscles ached by the time she released the whole rock hard bundle from its hole.
"Now, Suck, Bitch!" the blonde siren wailed, "suck his cock and do it well."
Sally leaned over a little more and paused a moment. But it was one moment too long. The woman's hard, heavy hand landed a blow to her and the thudding sound of the riding crop came into her ears as the pain of the blow lit up her nerve endings.
"Owwww," she managed before the man stuffed his pecker inside her mouth.
Sally was aware that her air would be cut off if she didn't immediately begin to suck this man. This tremendous, heavy load that he plied in and out of her mouth. The dome felt like it must have been about the size of the one on the capitol building.
"Suck that load, Hopeless She-Devil!" the stormy blonde was at it again.
Charlene gripped her crop hard and ruffled the girl's tresses with it rudely. The sight of the blonde head going down on her husband's hard long dick was enough make her melt her leathers. She felt herself oozing come cream long before climax. The sight was arousing her tremendously.
Bob Kuafman felt the entwining, hot helpless lips embrace his huge, flailing cock rod. He rammed it in and out as swiftly and as hard as he possibly could. This was no time for easy fore play. His arousal sent spurs of pain shooting down to his boots. His cock felt like a diving rod stiffening the closer it got to the water source. Harder, harder, he plunged his heaving whang down her tiny sucking hole.
More, more of the man's hopelessly huge cock was worming its way down her slithering gullet. Where was she going to put all this? He was going to poke her tonsils out. Oh, Christ, Sally thought, as her cunt lips grew ever stiffer with the inflammation of heat and desire, where will this end? Where?
The man worked his ramrod in and out of those pouty pink lips. All the way to the head, all the way to the hilt. Hilt to head. Head to hilt. He fit the child purse her lips hard to disallow him entrance, but still he forced his way down inside. He looked up to see his wife's quivering pussy lips glistening in front of him. And he reached his whole big hairy arm down toward it.
Charlene felt her husband's giant fingers thrust right up inside her waiting, wet cunt. They circled up and around inside her, prying more joy juice loose from her pussy. The intrusion, the harsh poking, prodding hook thrust up inside her so roughly made her seethe with pleasure and agony. She looked down to see the girl's cunt lips quivering as hers had a moment ago.
"Here, Wicked Girl!" she muttered and thrust the brunt end of her crop right between Sally's puffed up cunt lips. Then she worked it back and forth stiffly, causing the heat of friction to do its duty on the helpless withering girl.
Sally felt the crude leather arm buffet and plummet against her outstretched cunt lips. She stroked the man's huge flesh rod with her lips, she fucked his giant pole with her mouth. She sweated and she sucked and she crammed the insanely hard, wicked tool down into her mouth and out her swollen, wet lips. She blew and sucked and tickled and licked the man's gigantic cock with every ounce of strength she had She felt her cheeks suction in and out, out and in as she continued to pull him down inside her throat. Then she let him back up again, only to swallow him another time, so far, he saw his balls disappear. Then he pulled back out a moment and held his rock hard schlong against the tip of the girl's seething lips. The tip of his big pecker rested there a moment, a moment in time and space, suspended, suspended in the height of arousal before he shot. He shot a load of mancome out the end of his waving ramrod. He sprayed the juice all over the girl's face, down her throat, into her hair. He shot and he sprayed. He sprayed as he shot.
"Oh, God," Sally cried out in pure agony as the hot load hit her broadside.
She felt the woman's riding crop ply itself back and forth across her raised clit knob. It worked back and forth hard enough to rub her raw. But it only succeeded in arousing her to a come pitch. She felt herself give way to the whole embracing blanket of orgasm that covered her. She let go and erupted into a torrent of squeezing hot orgasms.
"Christ," Charlene shouted as she felt the riding crop working itself at the other end of her grip. Then she felt her husband's hard hand find its mark. It pressed her button of arousal down so hard she blasted off into space. She felt her cunt split open and the come cream run out. She felt her insides head straight up into the sky as she fought to keep her boots planted on the ground.
The sights and sounds the three of them made became a moaning, groaning trio of weird instruments, aching, reaching for a single sound. That sound came as a knock on the door of the hotel suite.
"Tap, tap, tap," it sounded on the door wood.
The three of them could hardly hear it over their heavy breathing. Still it came again. "Tap, tap, tap."
"Room service," a girl's voice announced from the other side.
The voice intruded on Charlene and Bob's concentration. It broke their arousal as they spent themselves in heaving heavy gasps of air. But the voice was familiar to Sally. It was the voice of her roommate. It was Elaine's voice.