Chapter Three - Mister Stein

Between the time of Wally’s departure on Saturday morning and her phone call to Harry’s Bar on Wednesday afternoon, Kathy thought continually about Stein. Each evening she went to bed early and slept late. She was sure she had disturbing dreams, but except for the feeling they included her uncle, she could not remember them. Her cunt was constantly wet, but she did not touch herself.

The weather turned bright and hot. During the day she could hear Wally’s grader across the street, but she didn’t look out of the windows. In fact, she pulled the drapes shut. Once, he came to the door, but she did not answer.

When Jeff returned from his trip to Philadelphia, he wanted to know all about her Friday night. Although he had accepted the arrangement, he now seemed very jealous and hurt. She could sense in him an angry rage he had so far been able to keep under control. She told him her evening with Wally was okay but nothing special. When he pressed her to be more specific, she said she’d been disappointed. She assured him that he was the only man she loved which was absolutely true. She convinced him that this thing with Wally was some kind of crazy impulse and that it would never happen again. He stopped questioning her. He wanted to make love. However, she invented an excuse, which he also accepted. She half wished he would slap her and then throw her down and pound his cock into her. But, of course, he wouldn’t do that. He would wait until she was ready, and then he would be grateful.

When Jeff was at home she either napped or shut herself in the bedroom pretending to read. She bathed twice each day and spent hours brushing her hair. She found herself wishing her summer tan would disappear completely. She wanted her skin to be perfectly white. She had an intuitive feeling that Mr. Stein would want to see the thin, blue tracery of her veins. The thought caused her to shudder, but at the same time she became hot and excited.

On Tuesday she decided to remove the polish from her nails. She cleaned and filed them, meticulously rounding the points that had dug into Wally’s scrotum. She experimented with a very light shade of lipstick and a colorless gloss. She washed and pressed her white silk robe and cleaned her white heels. But, then, she put the heels away, thinking that he might find shoes somehow offensive. She would wear the white robe and nothing else.

She never thought of the night with Wally except for his parting promise to talk to Stein. She spent her waking hours recalling the fat man’s smooth, puffy skin, his quick, bright eyes full of cunning and hate, the pendulous lips, the coagulating glob of cold saliva that had seemed to sear her breasts as it slid between them. She found herself touching, almost reverently, the place where he had spit on her. Sometimes she repeated aloud her uncle’s admonition, “Shame, Katherine, shame.”

The days passed quickly, yet by Wednesday it seemed as if the experience with Wally had occurred in some other life. She was polite to Jeff but avoided him. There had been, she knew, another business meeting scheduled for Washington D.C. However Jeff informed her that he didn’t have to attend. She suggested that he go anyway. He balked and seemed suspicious. Once more she persuaded him that the experience with Wally was meaningless and would never happen again. She kissed him warmly and told him she loved him. When she saw that he trusted her, she convinced him that it was in his best interest to attend the meeting and promised that they would go away for a few days as soon as he returned. She’d make arrangements at a romantic country inn. Finally, he agreed.

Late Wednesday afternoon she called Harry’s Bar. Her hand trembled so much she got the wrong number and had to try a second time. She asked for Ezra Stein. Instead, it was Wally who came to the phone. “Stein wants you to write him a letter,” he said.

“Won’t he talk to me? Is he there?”

“He’s here but he won’t come to the phone. He says to write him a letter. Mail it at the local post office tonight. Send it here, to Harry’s Bar. He will get it by Friday and decide after he reads it.”

“Did you tell him about our night? Did you tell him...that...that I would do anything.”

“Yeah, I told him. He just said for you to write a letter then he’d decide.”

“But what should I write?”

“How the hell should I know?” There was a pause. Wally began again, “Anyway, you’re not to phone here again. If he wants to see you, he’ll take a cab out to your place. He don’t like to drive.”

“Do you think he’ll come, Wally?” She couldn’t keep the desperation out of her voice.

“I wouldn’t count on it. He just don’t give a shit about people, especially women and particularly women like you, well off and all, and living in fancy houses.” Wally hesitated. She knew he had something else to say. When he spoke again his voice was lower, guarded. “Mrs. Ryan, the guy’s no good. I mean he’s scary. I think you’re crazy to...”

She cut him off. “I’ll write the letter, Wally. How should I address it?”

“Okay, okay, it’s your funeral. Send it to Ezra Stein, make that Mister Ezra Stein, care of Harry’s Bar. You know the zip. Stein also says for you to get your husband to go away just in case he decides to come to your place.”

“Thank you, Wally.” She replaced the receiver and sat back in the chair, trembling.

She wrote several drafts of the letter until she produced one that satisfied her. There was no need to describe herself or her night with Wally. Stein had already seen her and she was sure Wally left out no details in recounting their night together. Through Wally, she had promised Stein anything and everything. The fat man had not been impressed. And so it seemed clear that he wasn’t interested in the quantity or even the quality of her sexual appetite.

In her letter she told him about her Catholic childhood, the deaths of her mother and father, the hickory post, the priest-uncle watching but reprimanding her only after he had seen her come. The peeping priest who punished her with no more than “Shame...shame”. She told him about her marriage. She wrote, that hard as it was to believe in these times, she and Jeff were virgin bride and groom. She described the masturbatory fantasies that led to her appearance at Harry’s Bar and culminated in the night with Wally. She wrote of her love for her husband and of his gentle nature and his kindness. But she also mentioned both his and her own growing disinterest in the sexual aspect of their marriage. She described her disgust at Wally’s submissive pleading.

Her letter ended with: “I can only guess why I am so powerfully drawn to you, why I am both excited and repelled by you, desiring you yet very much afraid. I can only guess at why I feel this overwhelming compulsion to subjugate my will to yours. I’m not even sure that’s true. I suppose sometimes it is but at other times I know that such a desire is wrong...obscene...terrifying. I can only guess at the reasons for these feelings, but I think you know what these reasons are. I’m sure, if you are willing to accept my invitation, you will give me what I seem to need. And for my part, I am

Yours,

Katherine”

It seemed a bit overdone but was, she finally decided, the absolute truth.

Throughout the week she had been in a semi-convalescent state: sleeping a great deal, bathing often, and eating very little. By Saturday she had, indeed, lost much of her tan. She did not feel weak or tired, but she moved slowly. When she thought about the possibility that Stein might be here in this house, her heart began to race and the warm flow oozed from her cunt. She could feel the blood rush to it, swelling its lips, gorging her clit. She felt that she could make herself come simply by brushing her finger over her clitoris. Her mouth would suddenly go dry, then just as quickly fill with saliva, making her swallow rapidly.

On Saturday morning Jeff left for the airport without waking her. However, she heard the garage door shut and then the sound of his car backing down the driveway. She did not bathe until late Saturday afternoon. She shaved her pussy again and rubbed it and her body with scented oil. She made up her eyes, startled at how large and softly luminous they seemed. She applied the pale lipstick and a shiny gloss. Stroking the familiar place between her breasts, she watched her nipples harden beneath the light touch of her trembling fingers. Finally, she put on the white silk robe and at seven o’clock sat down in the living room to wait. She refused to let herself consider the possibility that Stein might not come.

At ten-fifteen she heard a car in the driveway. As she opened the door, the car was backing out and Ezra Stein, in spite of his weight and age, was moving quickly and, she thought, gracefully up the walk.

She stepped back from the door. When his short, bulky frame filled the entrance, she quickly turned to face the wall. She waited. She heard him close and bolt the door, place something on the coffee table, and cross to stand behind her. She turned to face him. His eyes were as she had remembered: hard and bright and cruel. There was a slight hint of a smile on his thick lips. He looked at her and nodded, “Always follow your instincts, Mrs. Ryan. It seems they do not misdirect you.”

“You approved of the letter,” she asked, bowing her head slightly and lowering her eyes.

“Yes, the letter and also how you've prepared yourself. I approve of both.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stein.” She felt herself blushing. She lifted her head but was afraid to look directly at him. “Won’t you sit down,” she said. The burning in her crotch became intense.

He chose Jeff’s large leather chair and put his feet up on the ottoman.

“May I get you something?” Her voice trembled and was so low she wasn’t sure if he understood.

“No, not at the moment.”

She sat on the edge of the couch, her bare feet peeping out from under the hem of her robe. She saw him looking at them, and the color rose to her cheeks again as she quickly pulled her feet back.

“I also find shoes uncomfortable,” he said. He shoved the ottoman out of the way and placed his feet on the carpet. He sat looking at her, waiting. She didn’t move. He glanced down at the floor and tapped impatiently.

“Oh!” she said, jumping up, “forgive me.” She knelt at his feet. She unlaced the black, worn shoes and slipped them off. His socks were thin black nylon. Carefully, she removed one, then the other. His small feet, like his hands, were soft and white. She rubbed them gently. The smooth skin was cool and damp and smelled faintly of sweat and talcum. This was the first time she had touched him. It seemed right, somehow, that it should be this way, kneeling before him performing this humble act of tenderness and contrition.

After a few moments, he stood up. “Does you husband have a dressing gown?” She nodded. “Bring it, please.” She returned immediately with Jeff’s velvet robe. He took it from her and held it up. “It is long, but I like the color, burgundy. Is the bathroom down this hall?”

“Yes, and to your left.”

After several minutes, he was back. The robe dragged on the floor, and the sleeves were turned up in two wide folds. He had pulled the belt tight across his huge stomach. “And now, my little penitent, there is nothing but a thin piece of cloth between my flesh and your adoration of it.” He chuckled. “And nothing but a thinner piece of cloth between your flesh and…well, what shall we say...my use of it? Or would ‘abuse’ be a more precise word?” He stared at her. “Abuse, I think.” He lowered his bulk into the leather chair once more.

She took her place on the couch, the coffee table between them. She thought of his naked body under the robe, his white distended belly, his cock and balls, his words about adoration and abuse, his absolute authority over her, and his undisguised contempt for her. This fat, ugly, pig of a man had come here to humiliate and, no doubt, hurt her. Yet she was prepared...how might her uncle have phrased it? She was prepared to celebrate his body and, if need be, consecrate her own. ‘Celebrate’ and ’consecrate’...how often had she heard those words. The desire between her legs was almost painful. She had the urge to rip open her gown and rub her throbbing cunt, the wish to masturbate for him. Instead, not daring to look up, she asked, “How did you discover what I need?”

“It was obvious right from the start. The way you subjected yourself to that fool, Wally. And, of course, your letter: the guilt you felt about your parents’ deaths, the strict Catholic home, the voyeuristic uncle who refused to give you what you really wanted. What exactly was it you longed for after those steamy sessions in the basement?’’ He did not wait for her reply. “You wanted to be beaten. You wanted him to remove his belt and whip you with it. You wanted him to punish you for your sins. And then there is your weak husband jumping through whatever hoop you hold up. Did he have to be absent this weekend or did you send him away?”

“I urged him to go.”

“Ah, yes. And finally there was Wally begging for your kisses. Three men in your empty life and all of them emasculated.”

She lifted her head and for the first time looked directly at him, “I knew that afternoon in Harry’s Bar, that you were different. I knew you would not be like...like other men.”

He leaned forward, his eyes narrow slits, “Of course you did. You understood that to me you are nothing. You are of no earthly use other than to be used. Your face is beautiful, but I’m not interested. Your small, young body is exquisite, but it doesn’t excite me. Your innocence is as rare these days as honesty, but it is of little consequence to me...except...” He left the sentence hanging, incomplete. The color had risen to her cheeks. She looked away from him. He smiled. “Tell me,” he said, “have you ever seen the old film version of ‘The African Queen’?”

His question surprised her. She’d watched it for the second time just two weeks ago. “Yes, once at the movies and recently on television.”

“Which scene do you remember most vividly?” He sat up as if her answer were important to him.

Before thinking about it, she answered, “The part where Humphrey Bogart is pulling the boat through the swamp and those...those...”

“Leeches,” he supplied the word.

“Yes,” she said, closing her eyes and shaking her head, “they were horrible. I couldn’t look.”

“I take it you don’t care for leeches?”

She was confused, not understanding the unexpected direction his questions had taken. “Well, I...I never thought about...”

“Don’t you know, Mrs. Ryan, it isn’t fair to make hasty judgments about any of God’s creatures: rattlesnakes, scorpions, those of us who are obese and no longer young. Even leeches, disgusting as you may find them, are creations of the God who made both the lion and the lamb.”

“Yes, but...”

He interrupted her once more. “It’s too bad you feel as you do. About the leeches, I mean. I happen to be quite fond of them. In fact, I have a small but select collection. However, I don’t like to think of them as a collection. They are pets. You know how people feel about their pets?” He waited for her to respond. She didn’t know what to say. “I’m asking you a simple question. I’m asking you to tell me how people feel toward their pets.”

Tears came to her eyes. She began to stutter, “They...they...love them.”

“And just how do pet owners show their love for these poor, dumb creatures?”

“They...they talk to them, I suppose, and play with them. See that they don’t come to any harm, feed them...”

He slapped his hands down on the arms of the chair startling her. “Ah, yes,” he said, “feed them. There we have it.” He looked at the ceiling for a moment, then placed his hands on his knees. “Most pets like variety in their diet and require daily nourishment. Did you know there is a type of leech that needs to be fed but once every six months?”

“No,” she said, “I...”

“And did you know that leeches subsist on only one kind of food?” She shook her head. He paused, rocking back and forth slightly. “Yes,” he continued, “only one.” He folded his hands over his stomach and leaned back. “It’s too bad you have such a negative attitude regarding leeches. I was hoping we might find that we share a common interest. However, people have been known to change. An open mind. A willingness to accommodate new experiences.” He closed his eyes for a moment and smiled. “Familiarity,” he went on, “does not always breed contempt. Quite often it has the opposite effect. Don’t you agree?” He leaned forward, staring at her.

“Yes,” she answered, nervously, “I...I...guess that’s true.”

“Of course, it is. We hate and fear the things we don’t understand. Knowing leads to caring.”

“Yes, but...”

His upraised hand stopped her. He shifted in his chair and sank back, closing his eyes once more. After what seemed a long time, he began to speak, “Well, then, Mrs. Ryan, in the matter of my leeches, don’t you think you might alter your unfair opinion if you had the opportunity to, well...to get...to get closer to them?”

The fear curled round and round in her stomach. She opened her mouth to speak but could not. She felt the heat between her legs. When she did not answer, he began with more questions. “As a child, Mrs. Ryan, did you own a pet?” She shook her head yes. “A dog?” She nodded again. “And you played with him, and bathed and brushed him, and saw to it that he had a clean, warm place to sleep?”

“Yes,” she said.

“But what did you do for him that really proved you were his loving and trustworthy friend?” He waited, his eyes still closed. She formed the words but could not speak them. “What, Mrs. Ryan, did you do?” he asked sharply.

“I...I...fed him,” she whispered so softly he made her repeat it. “I fed him.”

“Yes, that’s the way with pets,” he went on as if they were discussing the weather. “It’s the same with babies. You’ve had no children?”

“No,” she said, “I...I can’t.”

His eyes bore into hers. She could not look away. “Then, it seems, the delight in nourishing another life at your breast is to be denied you forever,” he smiled slightly. “If I recall,” he leaned forward, “you have such healthy breasts, small but full and firm.”

She was suddenly conscious of the blood pulsing in her nipples. Abruptly, he got up and crossed to stand before her. He untied his robe and it fell open. After a moment, she slid off the couch to her knees. Her face was not six inches from his crotch, which was as hairless as her own. His cock hung limp and fat like a pale sausage. His testicles were enormous smooth white globes. The skin drawn tightly over them seemed almost transparent. She could see the network of their blue veins crisscrossing and intersecting like a detailed road map.

She inched forward to lick him. He slapped her, not hard, across the face. More surprised than hurt she fell backward. She huddled between the couch and the coffee table like a frightened child.

“I am not your uncle or your husband or Wally,” he said. Unable to speak, she nodded. He lifted his dead, white cock and let it go. “You want to suck this?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“And these?” He cupped his huge testes.

“Yes,” she said, getting to her knees.

“How much?”

The burning between her legs was unbearable. She shut her eyes and clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking. “Very much,” she said.

He closed his robe and retied the cord. Then he returned to the leather chair. “There is a jar in that paper bag on the table. A gift for you.”

She knew before she opened the bag what she would find. It was a squat, wide-mouthed glass jar with a screw-on lid. It contained approximately two quarts of murky water and three flat worm-like creatures. Two were brown-gray and at least six inches in length. The third was longer and brightly colored with bands of orange and yellow and blue. The sudden light caused all of them to expand and contract. They propelled themselves listlessly, sliding against the curved surface of the glass container.

She drew back, pulling her robe together, her hands instinctively covering her breasts. She stared at the bloodsuckers, hypnotized by their slow contractions. Even through the dirty water, the light glinted on the slime that covered their bodies. Stein watched her intently for a few moments then sat back and folded his hands over his stomach again, apparently satisfied.

“My pets,” he said, “phylum-annelida; class...hirudinea...common name, leech. But they are most uncommon, don’t you think?” She continued to gaze at the jar, hardly hearing him. “I believe I mentioned that they have a tiresome diet, subsisting on just one food. Can you guess what it is, Mrs. Ryan?” She did not answer. “Mrs. Ryan,” he spoke forcefully, “I’ve asked you a question!”

“Yes,” she said, her face gone pale, “yes, I know what it is.”

“They are hungry, Mrs. Ryan, not weak yet but hungry nonetheless. It’s been about five months since they’ve eaten.” She shuddered visibly. “Do you really want me that much?” he said pointing at the jar. “Does the disgusting thought of holding this limp, white, shriveled cock between your lovely lips excite you that much? Are you so anxious to lick these,” he lifted his testicles, “that you would...” he did not finish the sentence.

She stood up, facing him, the coffee table and the jar between them. Her trembling hands loosened the belt of her gown. Her high, firm breasts rose and fell rapidly. Without taking her eyes from him, she unscrewed the lid of the jar.

“Yes, Mr. Stein,” she said, “I would like to feed your pets.”

If her response surprised him, he did not show it. “Come here, Mrs. Ryan.” She stepped around the coffee table and stood between his open legs. He reached up and squeezed her nipples between his thumbs and index fingers. At his touch she gasped and her breath came faster. “Yes,” he smiled up at her, “they will enjoy these.” He pointed to her crotch. “Let me see it.” She spread the lips of her shaven cunt for him. The pink membranes were dark with blood, and he could see the come beginning to ooze from her vagina. Her clit stood up, red and hard. He pressed it with his forefinger. She thrust her hips forward. He quickly withdrew his hand and looked up at her angrily.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I couldn’t help it.”

“Perhaps we can take care of that.” She glanced at the jar and drew in her breath sharply. She shut her eyes. Stein watched her closely. “Yes, Mrs. Ryan, I’ll leave it up to you. I will always leave the choices up to you. Tell me, how many of my little companions do you want?”

Why didn’t he tie her down or something and drop them on her? Why must she help? Why must she agree? Her eyes were still closed and her head bowed. “Two,” she said softly.

“What?”

“Two. I want to feed two.”

“Well, Mrs. Ryan, you are very kind indeed. Feed them, that’s what you said, wasn’t it, feed them? Feed them from your sweet virgin breasts?”

“Yes.”

“But they don’t subsist on milk, do they?” She didn’t answer. “However, I’m sure they will find some nourishment, Mrs. Ryan. Won’t they?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Shall we go to the bedroom?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“Will you take them?” He motioned toward the jar. She picked it up carefully but did not look into it. From the paper bag, he removed a pair of rubber gloves and followed her down the hall. “Oh,” he said, entering the bedroom behind her, “candles. How thoughtful. Will you light all of them, please?” She placed the jar on the end table and, in a few moments, the room was flickering in candlelight. He switched off the floor lamps. “Good,” he said, “bright enough to see and yet softly romantic.” He touched her arm. “Perhaps, in these matters, you have the habit of making last minute preparations?” He smiled.

She sat at her nightstand and took up her lip-gloss. Her hand trembled, but she willed herself to steady it. She brushed her hair and turned to him holding up a vial of perfumed oil.

“Yes,” he said.

She began to rub the oil over her body. Her skin glowed, reflecting the warm light. “Is this what you do before receiving a lover?” he asked.

“I...I…want to look...attractive.”

“For them?” he pointed at the jar and chuckled.

“Yes,” she said. She cupped her breasts as she had done that afternoon at Harry’s. She crossed to the jar and, kneeling, pressed one of her nipples to it. Perhaps sensing the change in light or heat, all of the leeches stopped circling and hung suspended in the water just opposite her breast. They undulated slowly. She stared at them. They were flat, narrow at one end and wide at the other.

Stein watched her. “The broad posterior contains the primary sucker,” he explained. “It is large and serves to attach the body firmly to its host.” She could see the suckers sticking to the glass. “The head and, of course, the mouth is at the narrow end,” he continued as if he were giving a lecture. “There is a smaller but very powerful sucker at the head as well as three small teeth. The punctures they make heal very quickly.” She stood up, almost knocking over the jar. “Are you afraid?” he asked.

“Yes, very.”

“Well, then, why do it? You have a choice, you know. We can simply put the lid on the jar and…”

“No,” she interrupted.

“Good,” he smiled. “I must admit, Mrs. Ryan, you surprise me. Yet, there is something of the Old Testament in this don’t you think? I mean, the beautiful and innocent Eve seduced by the serpent.” He pulled on the rubber gloves. “Will it be necessary to restrain you?”

“No,” she said.

“Then perhaps you’d better lie down. They have been waiting for a long time.” He patted the side of the glass and turned to her. “Are you ready?”

All week she had been thinking of him, of Stein, knowing that he would...would...do something, would be different, would understand what she needed. But no one could possibly have imagined this...this giving herself to those slimy bloodsucking creatures, offering them her breasts, making herself beautiful for them, the lip gloss, the perfume...good God, it was insane. She pushed the robe from her shoulders, and it fell to the floor. “Yes,” she said, “I’m ready.” She lay on the bed, her arms at her sides, her legs slightly parted. She heard him reach into the water with his gloved hand. As he leaned over her, she felt drops of the warm water on her stomach. Her nipples seemed twice their normal size. Under her breast she felt a cold stinging sensation as the sucker adhered tightly to her skin. Then, she felt the long glutinous body stretching over the curve of her breast.

Stein pressed the leech’s head against her nipple, “Here, my pet, is what you’ve been waiting for. What both you and your gracious hostess have been waiting for.” She felt a slight pinch as its teeth punctured her skin. He attached the second leech in the same manner to her other breast.

Laying back, she closed her eyes and gave herself over to the subtle but oddly powerful sensations that the feeding leeches produced. Gradually, at her breasts there was a quiet subsiding of tension and, in a way she could not understand, her initial feelings of revulsion changed to tenderness. With the index finger of each hand, she began to stroke their bodies. They squirmed slightly under her touch but continued to feed greedily. The pressure of their suckers increased. She spread her legs and reached down to touch her clit.

Stein quickly pushed her hand away from it. “I was hoping,” he said, “that the other one might be invited to feed there.”

Stein’s voice seemed far away. She shook her head, “No, no...not that,” she whispered.

“Very well, then, perhaps some other time.” She did not respond. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the leeches at her breasts. She could feel the flow of juices between her legs. She lay like that for several minutes before opening her eyes. At the foot of the bed stood Stein, his pig-eyes bright, his robe open, and his flaccid cock beginning to stiffen. It seemed to her that she was starting to come, but it wasn’t like any orgasm she’d ever experienced. It was slow, almost imperceptible but nonetheless a tickling and burning coupled with a delicious draining at her nipples and between her legs.

She began moving her hips and making small whimpering sounds. At one point she bent over her breasts and brushed her lips against each of the feeding leeches. “There, there,” she whispered softly. As they sucked, she became aware of the increased weight of them. They had embedded their heads deep into her nipples. She could feel acutely the pressure at the points where they were anchored to her body. And all the while there was this euphoric flow inside her cunt, seeming to be drawn out in a long thin strand, a liquid thread, opalescent and shimmering in the candlelight.

She closed her eyes again. When she opened them, Stein was standing over her removing one then the other bloated creature from her breasts. “You’ve been generous,” he said, dropping the thick leeches back into the jar. “They will not require feeding for a very long time.”

“And what about me?” she asked rolling on her side and reaching out to touch his cock. It had become limp again. The skin covering his huge testicles was tight. She drew her fingernails lightly across it. His skin felt smooth and dry like rice paper. He looked down at her.

“Do you think you can make me hard?”

“Yes, I can try. But...but...first I want...I want.”

“What? he asked. “What is it you want?”

“The other one. The big one with the bright colors.” The two she had fed lay quietly on the bottom of their container. The third still clung to the glass, its extended body almost circling the jar.

“It’s quite large,” Stein said. “A pisciolidae. They are different. Teeth bigger and sharp. The suckers are very strong and their appetite, well, it’s voracious.”

She lay back on the bed again and spread her legs. “Here,” she said, and she raised her pelvis. Stein put on his gloves. He had some trouble detaching the leech from the glass and was forced to hold it with both hands. She could see it wriggling and the light glinting off its brilliant colors. She moved to the edge of the bed so that Stein might have easier access to her cunt. He was preparing to position it so that its head would be on her clitoris.

“No,” she said. Stein paused, thinking she had changed her mind. “No,” she said again. “I mean turn it around.” He looked puzzled. “Place the large sucker on my clitoris. Direct the head up...up there...up inside me.”

Stein stared at her. “You mean...”

“Yes,” she said. “I want it inside me, deep inside.”

The posterior sucker covered her clit and immediately fastened itself with such force that she could feel her clitoris swell with blood. Stein didn’t have to direct the head. Sensing the warm, dark, liquid place, it slid quickly into her open vagina. She watched as the snake like creature oozed into her. She could feel it move in the dark passage, pulling itself along by attaching and releasing the smaller sucker. Finally, it was stretched tight against the furrow of her cunt. Three-fourths of its length had disappeared inside her. She felt the head sucker anchor itself firmly. She waited. As it bit into her vaginal wall, she winced and cried out.

When she looked up at Stein again, his cock was thick and hard as a club. Very carefully she got to her knees, keeping her legs well spread. Her mouth filled with hot saliva. She licked his dry balls until they dripped with it. Bending her head lower, she licked the underside of his cock, first with the tip of her tongue, probing and flicking the base of his glans, the long teasing runs down its thick length, circling his balls, gradually lapping at the underside of his cock, stroking and licking it with her tongue. Finally, she opened her pretty mouth wide and took the head of his pale cock into it.

Between her legs she felt the drawing sensation of the large sucker and an exquisite draining. She felt the engorged body of the leech swelling deep inside her cunt just as Stein’s engorged cock filled her mouth. She placed her hands on his smooth white belly that hung above her. As he moved, it brushed against her hair. She took more of him into her mouth. His pudgy fingers gently directed her, pushing her head slowly into his hairless crotch and pulling it back just as slowly, her tongue sliding along the base of his cock, her lips and teeth stretching the skin tightly over its head at the end of each pull and firmly skimming it back as she moved her head down his shaft. The fat, ugly man and the beautiful young woman moved rhythmically together in slow motion. All the while she could feel the thing between her legs growing thicker.

Stein came in her mouth with several hot, short spurts. She dug her nails into his stomach. He stumbled back and sat down on the bench behind him, his cock going limp, the scratch marks flaring like welts across his white skin. She had hardly been aware of his coming. Her clawing at his stomach at the moment of his orgasm was accidental, a reaction to the intensification of desire between her legs. Her feelings were centered on her own vagina, the wet slit of her cunt and her clitoris.

Now, she fell writhing to the floor, her legs spread wide, her hands grasping and pulling at her nipples. The leech was the thickness of a cock. She squeezed her vaginal muscles. Perhaps somewhere in the dark recesses of the creature’s mind there existed a dim memory of another life that caused it to respond to her rhythm. Or perhaps the primordial patterning of its genes insisted that it move as she did. Perhaps it simply squirmed in fear. She felt it extending and contracting, swelling and moving there inside her. The suckers alternately drew and released. The large sucker covered her clitoris completely. It was like a small but powerful mouth, sucking hard at her clit, drawing it in and out. As she squeezed, the body squirmed inside her. The pleasure she felt was unbearable. The creature’s head buried itself deeper into her, and the swelling, undulating body filled her and slid up and down against her slit.

There was no man pressing her to the floor, no electrical device jammed into her opening, no dead hickory post rubbing between her legs. But, instead, this living thing moving with her contractions, the fierce mouth glued to her clit, opening and closing over it, sucking it.

Her orgasm exploded in a fury of spasms. She thrashed and screamed. The thing between her legs sensing danger yet not satiated increased its pressure to adhere, drawing her clit deep into its sucking mouth. Pain coupled with pleasure. She arched her back, shouting unintelligibly, tossing her head from side to side, squeezing her breasts. Orgasm after orgasm welled up inside her and flowed over and around the tumescent leech that finally released her and slid from her cunt blind and flopping about on the rug as if she had just given birth to it.

After a moment, Stein rose unsteadily and put it back into the jar. He then helped her to the bed where, immediately she fell into a deep and quiet sleep.

She did not awaken until one o’clock Sunday afternoon. Stein was not there nor were his pets. She touched her nipples and her pussy. There was no soreness. She felt rested and cleansed. As she was preparing for her shower, the phone rang. It was Wally. “Hey, I heard you gave old Ezra a good time last night. What about me?”

She smiled. “Sorry, Wally. I don’t need you anymore.”

“You goddamn bitch!” he shouted. “It ain’t gonna be that easy. Stein wants to talk to you.”

“Put him on,” she said.

“Mrs. Ryan, you exceeded my fondest expectations. I want you to come to my place. I have...”

She cut him off. “Thank you for what you did, Mr. Stein, but it’s over. I’m absolved.”

“Listen to me, Mrs. Ryan, women like you are never absolved, never. You will come crawling, Mrs. Ryan, crawling and begging.”

“Mr. Stein,” she said quietly, “it’s over.” She hung up.

The shower tingled against her skin. She thought of Jeff. Dear, kind, sweet, normal Jeff. She laughed out loud as the familiar hot rush began to flow from her stomach to her crotch.