Taxi To Torture

NINE The consuming madness of that weekend took its toll of us, both physically and emotionally. Pat was too stiff and sore to go to work the next day. I managed to make it, but I was yawning all day long, and I had a deep weariness inside me that made me feel a hundred years old by the time I got home. We were both very subdued that evening; there was no thought of fun and games. We didn't even refer to the past two days, except perhaps by our unusually restrained manner with each other. We spent the evening mostly watching television, and went to bed without making love. The next couple of days were more normal, except that there was still no sex between us. Pat went back to work. We put the twenty thousand into the bank, saving it for tuition and school expenses. When we went to bed Wednesday night, I felt a strong desire to make love to her; but something kept me from reaching out for her. The past weekend already seemed almost to have been a dream--or a nightmare?--but still... Then, on Thursday evening, as we were eating, Pat said, in a voice just a little too flat: "We've been invited to dinner." "Oh?" I said. "Where?" She took out an envelope and handed it to me. "It came in the mail today." It was from Emma. A brief note, written by hand, simply asking if we would care to join her and her husband for dinner at their apartment the next day, Friday, suggesting I call to let her know. I put it down. "I wonder whose idea that was," I said. Pat said nothing. She went on eating. I said, "Do you want to go?" She put down her fork. There was a pause. Then she said, not looking at me, "Do you think they mean...just dinner?" "I don't know. With that bunch, it's hard to know anything." She nodded, then resumed eating. After a while she said, "You decide." I finished my dinner thoughtfully, wondering what I was going to do. Or maybe just pretending to wonder. I made the call after dinner. # Friday evening we prepared, a little tensely, for our evening with the rich folks. I put on a tie and jacket, which is about as dressy as I ever get, and Pat wore her nicest dress, a kind of pale orange with tiny dark stripes. The dress set off her skin and her shining dark hair, which she wore loose. She looked beautiful. We arrived promptly at seven o'clock, and after the usual preliminaries in the lobby we were admitted by Jessica, who wore the brief see-through maid's uniform which I had first seen her in. But her manner was perfectly correct and formal as she let us in and led us down the hall to the living room, where both of the Harrises were waiting for us. They rose to greet us. Harris came forward effusively, took Pat's hand and kissed it with almost comic courtliness, and then shook mine. "I am delighted you could come, both of you," he said warmly. "Simply delighted. Please, sit down, sit down. What would you like to drink? Oh, I'm sorry--you two haven't really met. My wife, Emma. Emma, this is Miss Patricia--I'm afraid I don't know your last name, my dear. Oh well, it doesn't matter. Patricia is such a lovely name." We sat down, and Harris served us drinks. It was strange to think that the only time Pat had seen her before, Emma had been tied down to the floor, being gang-fucked under her husband's direction. And that the last time we had seen Harris, Pat had screwed him and sucked his cock in exchange for an enormous sum of money. Yet here we all were, acting like normal people. So far. Emma was wearing a light green dress, belted at the waist, which set off the slender elegance of her figure. I had half expected to find her wearing her handcuffs, or fettered in some way or other. And I wasn't sure whether I was relieved or disappointed to see that she was not. We proceeded to make small talk. Harris asked Pat about her studies, and me about mine, and then turned the talk to more general things. Emma joined in the conversation, but after a while I started to notice something a little strange about her manner. She began to talk less frequently, and when she did her voice seemed a bit strained. I thought she was looking rather pale. And she shifted too often in her chair, as if unable to find a comfortable position. I tried not to watch her too openly, but as we continued to talk I was sure there was something wrong. Harris noticed me noticing finally. He gave me one of his little smiles. "I see you have discerned some discomfort on the part of my wife, Mr. Wulf," he said. "I have instructed her to endeavor to be discreet, but Emma is not a very accomplished actress. I am attempting to train her to the point where she can be a charming hostess for an entire evening, with no one ever suspecting whatever distress she may be in. However..." He sighed. I looked at Emma more closely, and she smiled at me, a little tremulously. "Yes, I'm being punished again," she said. "Bernard and Jessica keep coming up with such clever ideas. This one is really lovely. But I'm afraid it's difficult not to react to it. I'm sorry." "The fact is," Harris said, "Emma is wearing a special garment, one that I designed myself. It is quite ingenious, if I may say so. It is a brassiere, fitted especially and precisely to her measurements. It is quite snug, and the insides of the cups are studded with a number of very tiny steel spikes." I heard Pat draw in her breath sharply. Harris turned his smile on her for a moment, and something flickered in his eyes. Then he turned back to me. "As I say, the spikes are extremely small, though sharp, and are precisely calculated to prick the skin, even to puncture it under pressure, without even drawing blood. However, they are quite painful, particularly if the garment is worn for any length of time." "I'll bet they are," I said. I glanced at Pat. Her face was slightly flushed. Then Jessica came in to announce that dinner was ready. We went into the dining room, where we sat around a long table as Jessica served us. The dinner was delicious, and very elaborate by our simple standards. We had soup, and then some kind of smoked salmon, then the main course, which was beef and vegetables in a wine sauce with a French name. After that came a salad, and then dessert. There were several wines served, too, though Pat and I merely sipped at ours, neither of us being big wine drinkers. Throughout the meal Harris kept the conversation going, and he seemed to particularly enjoy drawing Emma into it. As the dinner went on, Emma got paler, and she squirmed almost continually in her chair. Her voice shook a little when she spoke, and by the end of the meal she was perspiring, though the room was not particularly warm. I saw Pat watching her. As she got paler, Pat's color seemed to deepen. At Harris' suggestion we adjourned to the living room, where Jessica served us coffee. Emma, mumbling an excuse, stayed behind. I wondered if she was going to take the brassiere off. The three of us chatted, a bit awkwardly now, until after a while Harris put down his cup. "And now," he said, smiling at both of us, "I propose that we return to the dining room for the REAL main course of the evening." Pat looked bewildered, but I had a suspicion about what was going on. We got up and followed him. As I had supposed, the main course was Emma. She was laid out on the dining room table, face down, with her head just over the frong edge of the table, facing us as we came in. Her hands were tied behind her, and her legs were splayed widely apart, so widely that her feet hung over the sides of the table. Ropes were tied to each of her ankles and fastened somewhere beneath the table's surface. She was still wearing her dress, but it was rucked up around her waist, and from there down she was completely naked. Pat gave a little cry of shock. My throat was dry. "A most appetizing dish, I think you will agree," Harris said dryly. "As Emma told you, she is being punished. The reason does not matter. Part of her punishment is serving as our entertainment this evening. Of course, it is well-nigh impossible to find any punishment which, for Emma, is not actually a reward. She loves it so. Ah, well--one can't have everything. If you will take a seat, you will have an excellent view of the proceedings." "Does she..." Pat began, a little breathlessly. "Is she still wearing..." "The brassiere? Oh yes, certainly. That's part of the idea. In that position it will be terribly painful. Isn't it, Emma?" "Yes, Bernard," Emma said softly. "And you love it, don't you, you silly bitch?" "Yes, Bernard," she whispered. "You see? But let us waste no more time. Jessica!" he called. "We are ready now." Jessica came in. She was carrying a riding crop. Emma's eyes closed for a moment, and she made a faint mewling sound. "The crop is a remnant of Jessica's English childhood," Harris said. "She uses it very well, although with less precision than her brother Rudolf, whom perhaps you will meet later." "You're a fool," Jessica said to him. "Perhaps," he said equably. "And now let us proceed." He unzipped his fly and casually pulled out his penis, which was semi-erect. "A few preliminary strokes, if you please, Jessica, to get me in the proper mood." Jessica positioned herself by the side of the table, then swiftly raised the riding crop and brought it down hard on Emma's naked ass. Emma's body jerked, and she cried out in pain. "Good," Harris said. "One more should be sufficient." The blonde woman did it again, with the same result. Harris' cock was fully erect now. Mine was too. I sneaked a glance at Pat. She was sitting tensely in her chair, breathing rapidly. Harris now stepped up to the table and lifted his wife's head by the hair, then stuck his hard cock into her mouth. She took it with no protest, and began to suck him as he rocked slowly back and forth. "All right, Jessica," he said. "Until she makes me come, if you please. I expect your usual tender competence, my dear. You will be careful not to bite, won't you?" As he spoke, Jessica raised the crop and brought it down, harder than before. Emma's cry was muffled by Harris' cock. Jessica now began to beat the bound woman's ass with a slow, steady rhythm, pausing a second or two between blows. She left red stripes across Emma's buttocks. Emma's cries got louder with each stroke, though the smothered sounds came out as sharp, nasal wails. Through it all she sucked on her husband's cock. He had let go of her hair; he stood with his hands on his hips and watched her work on him, her head moving slowly up and down. I wondered if he'd had the dining table manufactured at precisely the right height for this activity. Each time the wicked little whip landed on her ass cheeks, Emma's body jumped sharply in its bonds. I began to understand why she had been tied with her hands behind her, rather than spread-eagled. This way she had more freedom to writhe and roll under the lash; but if she did that, she inflicted even more pain on her breasts, already flattened against the surface of the table inside Harris' studded brassiere. I lost track of the number of times the crop came down. Harris wasn't in any hurry, though Emma's head was moving faster now, her lips clasping his prick tightly as they slid back and forth over its length. Tears were running from her eyes, and she gasped for breath through her nostrils between her muffled shouts. At last I saw Harris' body stiffen. "All right, Jessica," he panted. "I'm going to come. Make her feel it now." The crop whistled. Emma's shriek was strangled by his cock in her throat, but her body twisted helplessly. She got two more of the same before Harris finally emptied himself into her yelling mouth. She didn't lose a drop. Harris removed himself from her mouth and calmly tucked himself back in and zipped up again. Jessica, hardly breathing hard, sat down in a chair, still holding the crop, a pleased expression on her face. Emma lay still, her head bowed over the edge of the table, moaning softly. Pat was sitting erect in her chair, motionless. I could tell she was trying not to show her feelings, but her hands were clenched on the chair arms and her breasts rose and fell a little too rapidly. "Well," Harris said cheerily. "I hope the banquet is not yet over. Mr. Wulf, would you care to partake? I should like to see Emma taken from behind in this position; it would bring out the advantages of my little invention even more, don't you think? Will you do the honors?" It was a hell of a temptation, but I fought it down. I didn't want to be a pawn in his little games; if I did anything, it would be my own idea. "No, thanks," I said. He raised his eyebrows. "No? What a shame. Well then...." He turned to Jessica. "Perhaps Rudolf would oblige us. Do you think he might?" "Rudolf is working," Jessica said flatly. "I think we can interrupt him for a little while. Would you fetch him, Jessica?" "No," Jessica said. Harris sighed. "Jealousy does not become you, my dear. I suppose I could fetch him myself, in which case I would of course have to tell him about your lack of obedience." Jessica got up, her eyes blazing. "I'll make you suffer for this, you old idiot." "I shall look forward to it," Harris murmured. Jessica went out. Harris chuckled. "Jessica's brother Rudolf is the only person I have even known of whom she is afraid. She also hates to see him make love with anyone but her. They share a room here--and a bed. We keep him around mainly to keep her from getting too far out of hand. And for times like this. He is a remarkable stud, as you will see." Jessica came back, followed by a very large, burly man a few years older than she was. He was built like a weight-lifter, but his powerful body moved with the grace of a panther. He wore an open-necked shirt and no jacket. His hair was darker than his sister's, and his eyes were a very deep brown. They seemed to glint with a mysterious perception as he glanced swiftly around the room. Harris introduced us. "You will have to understand," he told us, "that Rudolf does not speak. Not that he is physically incapable of doing so; but he prefers not to. It is a vow he took some years ago." "Get on with it," Jessica said sharply. "Of course. Rudolf, I would like you to bugger Mrs. Harris. It will not be necessary to move her--I believe the table will hold both of you. Please do not worry about hurting her--oh, and use your weight on her as much as possible. Thank you." Rudolf didn't seem at all surprised by these instructions. He simply took off his clothes. He did so without self-consciousness, putting them on an empty chair. His muscles bulged and shifted with his easy movements. And he had the biggest cock I'd ever seen, unbelievably long and thick even though it was still soft. I saw Pat's eyes widen when he took off his shorts. He stepped over to where Jessica was sitting, and, as though out of long habit, she leaned forward and started licking at his cock. It grew rapidly under her tongue, and she took it briefly in her mouth, sucking it until it was so long that she could hardly fit her lips over it. It was a truly amazing tool, and I marveled at the thought of it going into Emma's tight asshole. But I had the feeling it had been there before. Rudolf, fully erect now, turned from Jessica and climbed easily onto the table, kneeling between Emma's outstretched legs. Without hesitation, he lowered himself toward her, guiding his cock with his hand. It poked between her striped ass cheeks, probed, and found its goal. Rudolf pushed. Emma gasped loudly. Then she raised her head and howled like a skewered animal as Rudolf proceeded to press slowly, powerfully, inexorably forward. I watched in amazement as that monstrous pole disappeared inch by inch between her quivering buttocks. He was forcing his way into her anus through brute strength; but she was taking it, and though her agony was clear, I could see on her twisted face the same kind of unholy joy I had seen there before under similar pain--and that I had seen in Patricia's face even more recently. Then, in obedience to Harris' instructions, Rudolf lowered his weight onto her body, pressing her into the table, crushing her bound hands beneath him and mashing her upper torso nearly flat against the hard surface. I couldn't even imagine what torment her breasts must be undergoing inside that devilish brassiere. But as I was wondering whether the pain might be too much even for her, Emma's howls took on a new quality, and I realized that she was about to come. She came at least six times before Rudolf was finished with her, each time more intensely than the last. Rudolf fucked her steadily and expressionlessly, never letting up or varying his pace. I had the feeling that he could have gone on forever, and that he simply allowed himself to come when he figured it was time. After which he got down off the table and went over to Jessica, who dutifully took him into her mouth again and licked him off. "Thank you, Rudolf," Harris said. "That was most satisfactory. And now...Mr. Wulf, are you sure you would not care to undulge?" By that point I wasn't sure of anything, except that my cock was throbbing like crazy and I couldn't seem to take a deep breath. I was more than just horny; a familiar undertow was tugging at me, and I was going under without much of a struggle. I looked at the bound, half-naked woman on the table, the marks of the crop on her buttocks, gasping and moaning in post-orgasmic agony and bliss. I looked at the blonde maid with the spectacular figure and the bare, luscious legs, just pulling her mouth from her brother's gigantic prick. And then I looked at Patricia, my Patricia, her face flushed with secret arousal, her hands tightly clutching the arms of her chair as she struggled to maintain the appearance of compusure. As I looked at her, her glance met mine. We gazed at each other for a long moment; and then suddenly I saw her eyes widen, and a change came over her face. Her lips quivered slightly, and her tongue came out to moisten them. I felt my heart beating. For several more moments we looked at each other. And then her eyes dropped, and she sat there. Waiting. Harris was watching us. "I think the main course is over," I said. My voice was not quite steady, and I took a breath. "and now I think we should...have the dessert." The old man's eyes gleamed. "I was hoping," he murmured, "that that would be the case." "Patricia," I said hoarsely. "Stand up." She looked up at me again. After a second, her eyes darted like a startled animal's about the room: to Emma, to Jessica, to Rudolf, to Harris, and back to me. And then, slowly, with that air of graceful submission that set my head whirling, she rose to her feet. She stood there, her eyes demurely lowered, beautiful in the softly clinging dress, with her hair flowing over her shoulders. "She is lovely," Harris said softly. "Like a sacrificial lamb." "She's a sacrificial slave," I said. "Aren't you, Paricia?" Slowly, without raising her eyes, she nodded. I said: "Strip." There was complete silence in the room, except for the sound of Emma's labored breathing. Pat's hands were trembling slightly as, after a long, tense pause, she brought them up behind her neck to undo the fastening at the back of her dress. She got the zipper started, then lowered her arms and reached back to pull it down. She slipped the top of the dress off over her arms, and then slid it down over her hips and let it drop to the floor. No one moved. The silence was deeper than before. Even Emma seemed to be caught up in the moment. Pat, in pink bra and panties, hesitated again. Then her hands went behind her back and opened the brassiere clasp. Her movements were slow and almost dreamlike as she pulled down the shoulder straps and let the garment fall. A faint flush suffused the delicate flesh above the fine, firm breasts, but her red nipples were stiff and thrusting. She was turned on by the degradation of revealing her naked body to this strange gathering. Only a second went by before she reached for her panties and lowered them, exposing the fine, dark pubic triangle. She bent to slide them down her thighs, then stepped out of them with an awkwardness that only added to her desirability. Then she stood still, naked and trembling, a nervous, eager victim, ready to debase herself in whatever way I chose for her. "Get down on your knees, slave," I said harshly, "while we decide what is to be done with you." She sank slowly to the floor and knelt there, her eyes still lowered. "Is she not beautiful," Harris murmured. "Even my memory did not do her justice. So young and fresh. And obedient." "Mr. Harris has paid you a compliment, Patricia," I said. "Thank him." "Thank you, Mr. Harris," Pat whispered. "Eager as I am," Harris said, "to be thanked in a more... tangible manner, I leave it to you, Mr. Wulf, to direct the... dessert. I only hope I may be allowed to partake." I had something in mind for Pat that I was sure she didn't expect. I wondered how she would react. "Before she leaves here tonight," I said, "Patricia will have been had by everybody in this room--women included." Pat caught her breath swiftly, and her startled eyes leapt up to mine. I saw her face pale. "She has never been had by a woman," I said, keeping my eyes on hers. "In that way, she is still a virgin." "How marvelous," Harris breathed. Jessica suddenly spoke. "I want her," she said. The mixture of fear, submission and helpless need in Pat's eyes was so erotic that I nearly came in my pants. "Take her," I said. A tiny whimper came from Pat. Jessica stood up. She put the riding crop, which she still held, on the table, between Emma's legs, and then with a quick movement opened her flimsy uniform and took it off. Naked, she moved toward the spot where Pat was kneeling. Her wonderful body in motion was a wet dream in itself. Pat watched her like a hypnotized bird. She lowered herself to the floor near the trembling girl, then reached out and pulled her down beside her. Her hands moved greedily over Pat's body, coming to rest on her breasts, squeezing them, testing their texture and resilience. Then she put her arms around her. "Kiss me," she said. Pat swallowed. "I...I..." she stammered. "Do what she says, slave," I said sternly. "Everything she says." Hesitantly, tentatively, Pat brought her mouth to Jessica's. The two of them kissed each other. Jessica kept the kiss going, at the same time pulling Pat's body close to hers. They lay full-length on the floor, bodies pressed together, their breasts sliding and flattening against each other's, their legs entwined. Jessica pushed her tongue into Pat's mouth and began to grind her loins against the younger girl's. Small, high-pitched moans now started to come from Pat, and her body writhed as she clutched the blonde woman tightly. Then Jessica rolled Pat onto her back so that she lay on top of her. Still kissing her deeply, almost cruelly, she pried Pat's legs apart with her own, lying between them as if she were a man intent on rape. As if to foster this impression, she began to pump her hips up and down, battering her pelvis against Pat's crotch. Pat was moaning into the blonde's mouth. Jessica soon tired of this, however, and breaking the kiss, she rose from the girl's body to crouch over her, looking down with an almost triumphant expression at Pat's twisted face and open, panting mouth. Again Jessica began to explore Pat's body, more roughly this time, her hands moving hungrily, possessively over breasts and belly and thighs. One hand slid between the parted legs and found her crotch. Without warning, two fingers disappeared inside her cunt, while a third made contact with the tiny nubbin of her clitoris. Pat gasped sharply, and then began to moan as Jessica's fingers moved knowledgeably. The blonde's other hand was on Pat's breast, squeezing it and tweaking the stiff nipple. "Oh god!" Pat whimpered breathlessly. "Oh...oh Jesus... oh...oh...oh..." Her head was rolling back and forth, her eyes glazed. I wondered if she was too far gone to be aware of the fantastically erotic spectacle she made, helplessly abandoning herself to passion under the eyes of these closely watching strangers. Jessica was grinning, her hand busy at Pat's cunt. "Look at her," she said. "I think she's really a dyke after all." "She's just a slut," I said, hoping Pat could hear me. "She loves getting it from anybody." Pat was on the verge of climax now, but Jessica suddenly removed her hand. "Not yet, love," she said tauntingly. "It's Jessica's turn now." She lay down on her back beside the moaning girl. "Come to me, sweet. Come and make Jessica happy." Dazed and panting, Pat managed to roll herself toward Jessica, who pulled her down on top of her, kissing her gasping mouth. Then she put her hands in Pat's hair and tugged at it. "Down, love. Down you go. All the way down. But slowly. There's plenty of time." Pat made soft whimpering noises as she moved in response to the blonde's grip on her hair. Jessica guided her head to her left breast. "There you go, sweets. Kiss me there. Kiss me nice." Pat obeyed. "That's right," Jessica said throatily. "Now suck my nipple. Like that. Yes. Lick it and suck it. Oh, that's good. that's lovely. Now the whole tit. Open your mouth wide, love, and take all you can. Oh yes....Suck me....Oh you sweet little thing...." Pat followed Jessica's instructions slavishly, bowed over the blonde on her knees and forearms, her breath ragged. I was surprised at how aroused I was at seeing her paying homage to another woman's body. I took my eyes off them for a moment to glance swiftly around. Harris was sitting forward in his chair, his glinting eyes riveted on the pair of them, his mouth slightly open. Rudolf was more relaxed, but he too was watching intently, with that strangely all-seeing gaze. Emma, fastened on her table, seemed to be watching from some far-off place of her own, a place of eternal, exquisite pain. Jessica moved Pat's head to her other breast, where she put her through the same process as before. She was breathing hard now, and after a few moments she tugged at the dark head again, moving it down onto her stomach. "Lick me," she panted. "Lick me all over, little dyke. Lick your way down." She maneuvered Pat's head slowly over her belly, pausing at her navel, then continuing down, down. She lifted her knees and opened her legs wide. Pat made a peculiar sound when her obediently busy tongue encountered the blonde pubic hair. Jessica pulled inexorably at the hesitant head. "Now, you sweet bitch," she rasped. "Eat me. Eat my pussy!" With a cry of surrender and abandon, Pat allowed her head to be pulled between the spread thighs, her face to be mashed into the waiting crotch. Jessica gave a loud moan as Pat's mouth made contat with her open cunt. "Ahhh...Yes...Yes, you lovely little cunt....Suck it.... Ohhh...Your tongue...Put it in, bitch.... Deeper....Ah....Ahh.... Now higher. You know where...Yes! Ah!...Ahhh!...There, yes there....Lick it, lick it hard....Yes, keep it up....Don't stop, you sweet little dyke....Ooohh...Ahhh...AAHHH!!" She was rolling and squirming in the throes of orgasm, but she kept Pat's head pinned where it was; and when she had finished coming, she panted: "Do it again." I spoke up. "You do it to her, too," I said. Jessica looked up with glazed belligerence, as if to object. But she didn't bother. With a kind of shrug, she let go of Pat's hair and half-pulled, half-directed her into a sixty-nine position above her. It was lovely to see the two female bodies entangled, their heads, one blonde, one dark, buried in each other's crotch, their beautiful legs pointing in opposite directions, and to hear the passionate, half-muffled sounds they made as they sucked at each other's cunt. Before long, Jessica came again; and then she rolled over on top of Pat and concentrated on bringing her off. Pat started to go crazy. She writhed madly under Jessica's skilled tongue, crying out harshly and whipping her head from side to side so that her hair flew wildly about her face. Her body went into convulsions as her climax crashed over her, and she pounded her fists on the floor, yelling uncontrollably. None of the onlookers in the room moved or spoke as Pat's powerful orgasm ebbed and subsided into a long series of gasps and shudders. Jessica, after a moment, rose calmly and returned to her chair. The rest of us, still caught in the erotic intensity of Pat's initiation into the world of lesbian lust, and curious as to her first reactions, kept our attention fixed on the quivering, panting girl. It took her a while to recover, but then the awareness of her surroundings seemed to come back to her with a sudden jolt. She sat up and looked around at us with wide eyes. "Oh my god," she whispered. Her eyes closed, as if ti shut us out, then opened again. "Oh my god!" For a moment I thought she was going to jump up and run out of the room. But then she suddenly drew in her breath with a hiss, and a long shudder went through her whole body. Then, with a strange, deep moan she lay back on the floor, spreading her arms and legs wide, wantonly exposing herself to everyone in the room. "Look at me!" she cried. "Oh my god, look at me! I love it! Mel, I'm a whore, you're right, I'm just a slut whore. I loved what that woman did to me. I love having them see me like this. Oh god. Watch me..." She suddenly brought her right hand down to her cunt and began to play with herself, her fingers moving on her clitoris. "Look...look..." she panted. "I'm a dirty cunt, I jerk off in pubic, I fuck men, I fuck women....I suck....I... I...Aaahhhh..." I watched in helpless amazement as she came again. Even with all that had happened before, I was not prepared for anything like this. Her climax seemed to calm her down. She lay quietly for a moment, then looked over at me. "Mel," she said softly. "I'm such a filthy bitch. I want to be punished." I had to clear my throat before I could speak. "Your punishemnt," I said as calmly as I could, "is to fuck the rest of the people in this room." "Mel...please..." When I said nothing, she sat up slowly, and then got to her feet. I watched, we all watched, in silence, as she walked gracefully over to the dining table, then picked up the riding crop which lay between Emma's open legs, where Jessica had placed it. Holding it with both hands, she walked across the room to where I was sitting. Then she lowered herself to her knees in front of me. In that position, she held out the little whip for me to take. After a moment, I took it from her. When I did, she rose to her feet again, and then drew herself up erectly and slowly raised her arms high above her head, holding them straight up in the air, lifting her breasts, tightening her belly, showing her whole lovely body to its best advantage. "Use it on me, Mel," she breathed. "Anywhere you want." My mouth and throat felt parched, and my head was pounding. As if with a will of their own, my eyes dropped to her high, firm, thrusting breasts. I licked my dry lips. "Anywhere?" I got out. She saw where I was looking, and caught her breath. "Oh yes!" she gasped, her eyes shining. "Yes! Yes, Mel. Please!" I started to get up. But Harris' voice stopped me. "If I may make a suggestion, Mr. Wulf..." he began. The interruption startled me a little; Pat had almost driven the others out of my mind. "Sure," I said. "I certainly do not wish to deprive you of your pleasure," Harris said, "and even less to deny Patricia the punishment she so desires. However, I gather that you contemplate using the crop on her breasts. A truly delightful idea; but I must warn you--I speak from a certain amount of experience--the breasts are most delicate and vulnerable objects, and their chastisement can be dangerous if undertaken with anything less than perfect control and finesse. Our object, I think you will agree, is to inflict pain--even extreme pain--but not to risk permanent injury. Especially to such a beautiful and...uninhibited young lady." He cleared his throat. "Now, as I mentioned to you earlier, Rudolf here handles the crop with an amazing degree of precision and expertise. He has a vast amount of experience in this regard; and, as I take it that you have little or none--as yet--I would strongly suggest that you allow him to fulfill Patricia's request. I can assure you he will do a thorough job." I hesitated for a moment, then looked at Pat, who had lowered her arms as Harris was speaking, and now stood motionless in front of me. She looked back at me steadily, but gave me no sign. She was breathing rapidly. I turned back to Harris and nodded. "Excellent," he said. "Rudolf, if you don't mind..." Rudolf, still naked, rose from his chair and came over to me, holding out his hand for the crop. I gave it to him. He stepped back, and Pat slowly turned so that he could have access to her body--and so that everyone could have a clear view of her being whipped. "I think three strokes will be sufficient, Rudolf," Harris said softly. "Three of the best. I suggest one on the upper surfaces, and one on the lower--and the third directly on the nipples." Rudolf nodded. Pat said, in a breathless voice, "Tie me." "I think not," Harris said. "If you will raise your arms again, my dear....That pose makes you look so enticingly vulnerable--and frankly, I would find it deliciously exciting to see whether you can hold that position throughout. Don't you agree, Mr. Wulf?" "You can pretend you're strung up from the ceiling," I said hoarsely. "Yes!" she breathed. And once again she raised her arms into the air, stretching them taut, and then crossed her wrists high over her head, as if they were lashed together and pulled upward by an invisible rope. I was breathing heavily myself now, and my heart was hammering against my chest. Harris' eyes were gleaming. "Very well, Rudolf," he said. Rudolf stood to one side of Pat and a little in front of her, facing her tense, expectant body, his eyes studying the uplifted and unprotected breasts, which rose and fell gently in rhythm with her accelerated breathing. Then he lifted his arm and with a swift, sudden movement sent the crop hissing through the air, to strike with a sharp, clear report across both of the thrusting globes, not more than an inch above the nipples. Pat screamed. Her face twisted violently, and sudden tears sprang from her eyes. Her knees buckled slightly, and her arms sagged--but she did not lower them. After a minute, gasping and trembling, she pulled her body erect again and straightened her arms as before. And waited. The naked man raised the crop again. His arm went back. The lash made a fearful whistling sound, and then it cracked cleanly and accurately over the lower curves of the quivering breasts. Again she screamed loudly. And this time her arms came down in spite of herself, and she cradled her breasts with her hands, her shoulders hunched, her head bowed, her body heaving with choking sobs. Rudolf stood quietly, the crop at his side. The air was charged with an erotic force that you could almost touch. Even Emma seemed to have come out of her own private ecstasies of suffering to watch the scene with vivid interest. Harris was sitting on the edge of his seat; in his own strange way, he was showing more emotion than I'd ever seen in him before. Jessica was twisting in her chair and playing with her own nipples. Then Pat lifted her head. Tears streamed from her eyes, but she brushed them away. She pulled herself up with an effort. "I'm sorry," she gasped, and raised her arms again. Her body swayed a little, and her breasts, now decorated with twin red stripes, heaved as she panted loudly. But she looked directly at the man holding the little whip, not even flinching as he raised his arm once more. Harris had not been exaggerating Rudolf's expertise with the crop. The third blow was the hardest of all, and it landed with deadly precision directly across both of her nipples. This time her scream was deafening. Her legs gave way, and she fell to her knees. She stayed there, bent over and hugging herself tightly as she moaned and sobbed and struggled for breath. Rudolf dropped the riding crop and turned to walk back to his chair. I saw that his huge cock was fully erect. he had enjoyed his work. Pat's bowed and heaving body rocked from side to side; her disordered hair fell chaotically over her face. As her moaning gradually diminished in volume, I became aware that she was trying to say something between her hiccupping sobs. "What's that, slave?" I asked roughly. I didn't recognize my voice. She made an effort to control herself. "...Fuck...me..." she groaned breathlessly. I wanted to fuck her more than anything in the world. But with an effort I said, "No." She gave a despairing cry. "Rudolf is the man who whipped you," I went on. "He should be rewarded. Show him how grateful you are." "Oh yes..." she gasped. "Yes!" She didn't try to get up. She crawled. On her hands and knees, she crawled slowly and painfully across the room toward the chair in which Rudolf was sitting. As she approached, Rudolf slid from his chair and lay down on his back on the floor, his enormous prick jutting up at a slight angle, looking like the leaning tower of Pisa. He was ready. Pat crawled right up over his body. When her head reached the level of his cock, she paused to pay it homage with her mouth, kissing and licking it avidy, then stretching her lips around its astonishing girth for a moment before she went on. When her crotch was above the throbbing tool, she reached for it with a whimper and held it as she lowered her body to meet it. She hissed sharply as the tip of it penetrated the open lips of her vagina. She had to struggle to get the massive thing inside her, but she squirmed and stretched herself until she had managed to take the head of it into her cunt; and then she forced herself down on it slowly, moaning as it made its gigantic way up into her belly. "Oh god!" she cried hoarsely when she had finally taken all of it inside her. "Oh Jesus...it's splitting me...Oh god, it's so good...so big...so good...." Her words trailed off into unintelligible babbling, and she began to move herself up and down on him, gently and tentatively at first, and then harder and more rhythmically. Rudolf just lay there and let her work over him, her torso writhing and twisting, her thighs pumping, her striped breasts bouncing and bobbling. She threw back her head, a high-pitched wailing sound coming from her mouth, and in a moment her body spasmed wildly as her climax jolted through her. After she had come, she stayed where she was, impaled on Rudolf's still stiff cock, panting like a dog in heat. Before long she was moving again, working up to her second orgasm. Harris rose from his chair suddenly. I could see the bulge in his trousers. He had already begun to remove his clothing when he spoke. "With your permission, Mr. Wulf," he said, a little unevenly, "I would now like to possess Patricia by way of the one aperture to which I did not gain access the other day." "Be my guest," I said. "And this time it won't cost you a penny." He was soon naked, and he walked over to the two bodies on the floor, his cock bobbing in front of him. He knelt down behind Pat and then put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her forward, gently but firmly, until she was lying on top of Rudolf, her abused breasts flattening against his chest, her hips still moving her cunt up and down on his prick. Harris crouched forward above her, spreading her buttocks with his hands. He pressed his dick between them, maneuvering it to the crinkled opening of her anus. "Sweet Patricia," he murmured, and then with a grunt he pushed himself forward. Pat gave a squeal of mixed delight and apprehension as she felt him stabbing at her asshole; and then she shrieked with painful joy as his cock forced its way through the tight opening. Determinedly he pushed on, plowing into her anal passage, driving Pat crazy as she was fulled to bursting by two cocks at once. "Aahhh!" she yelled as Harris began to move strongly back and forth in her ass. "Ahh yes!...Yes, fuck me....Oh Jesus, fuck me...kill me....Oh, your cocks...love your cocks...two cocks... inside me...AAAIII!!...Do it! Do it hard!...I...I'm going to... Ohh FUUUCK...." I watched her body go out of control, her hips slamming forward and back, whipsawing her cunt and asshole madly on the two skewering poles. She howled like a wild beast as she came a second time. Her climax did not cause Harris to lose a beat. He continued to plug away steadily at her asshole, each thrust forcing her down hard over Rudolf's motionless but gut-splitting cock. Sandwiched between the two men, moaning and panting helplessly, Pat was soon caught up again in the painful ecstasy of what was happening to her. I couldn't stand it any more. I had held back as long as I could, but watching Pat getting screwed fore and aft after everything that had happened, seeing her sweating, writhing body, her whip-marked breasts, her pain- and lust-distorted face and gasping, yelling mouth, was driving me out of my senses. I felt I was definitely ready to come in my pants; and that would be a hell of a waste. I stood up and went over there, opening my zipper on the way. My aching cock sprang out; it seemed to have been hard for hours. I sat down next to Rudolf's head. Pat looked up at me dazedly. "Mel..." she panted. "Mel... look at meee...." "I see you," I rasped. "Tell me what you are." She closed her eyes in ecstasy. "I'm a whore," she whispered. The word was like a prayer. I grabbed her head and pulled it over my crotch. "Show me." "Yes..." she moaned, and jammed her mouth down over my cock. I nearly came right then, but I gritted my teeth and forced myself to hold on. Her mouth had taken me all in with one gulp, and now she started to suck me hard, her head pumping, her tongue swirling on my prick, while her hips continued to jerk wildly back and forth between the two men who fucked her. "NOW look at you," I said gratingly. "Look at you, you cock-loving little slut. Screwing three men at once. Taking it from all sides. Cock in every hole. And you still can't get enough, can you? You want more. More cock!" Pat was whimpering and moaning around my dick, her head moving frantically, her body bucking and twisting like an unbroken bronco, her hips pounding like a triphammer. "Cunt," I went on, panting now. I hardly knew or much cared what I was saying any more. But I knew one thing, with a sudden, startling clarity. These abusive, hurting words were words of love. And Pat knew it too. "Bitch. Cocksucking twat. Look at you degrading yourself. Groveling, squirming, crawling degradation. Cock in your mouth. Cock in your cunt. Cock in your ass. Three cocks coming inside you, filling you with their sperm. Splashing you, soaking you, drowning you in come! Come on, whore. make us come. Make us all come inside you!" Pat was coming herself now, coming hard, her body wracked by jerking, wrenching spasms. And then almost immediately she came again. Then she went into a nearly continuous series of orgasms, coming over and over uncontrollably, helpless to stop herself. Unearthly sounds welled up from her insides, partly muffled by my cock deep in her gasping mouth. Perspiration streamed from her frantic body as it was buffeted mindlessly by an almost unbearable intensity of pleasure. I felt my last remnants of control starting to slip away, and I clutched at her to keep her head on my pounding cock. Then I saw that Harris was already coming. He was thrusting with all his strength into her madly bucking ass, and as I watched he emptied himself into it with a raspy groan. Almost at the same time Rudolf finally climaxed too. The only signs he gave were a slight arching of his hips and a gentle sigh as he shot his long-delayed load up her cunt. Pat shook with still another orgasm as she felt them filling her with their sperm. And I gave myself up to her clutching, twisting mouth, yelling loudly as I exploded again and again and again, in the longest and most intense climax I had ever known, shooting what seemed like gallons of sperm down my Patricia's gulping throat. # I don't know how much time passed before I heard Harris say weakly, "I thank you, Mr. Wulf--and Patricia, of course--for contributing so marvelously to our evening's entertainment." I sat up heavily. We had been lying on the floor like zombies. Harris was getting to his feet. I looked at Pat lying beside me, her breath coming in weak gulps, the perspiration drying on her body, fucked out, drained, hurting and utterly exhausted. "Hell," I said in a croaking voice, "it's not over yet. I said Patricia would fuck everyone in this room. She still has Emma to take care of...."