Al Leeds led a complex existence. At the age of fifty-nine he was worth, were he to liquidate all his assets, somewhere in the area of five million dollars, cash. The amount he controlled was at least twenty times that. He reminded himself at least once a day that at the age of twenty-three he had been a copy boy for the Herald Tribune, earning seventeen dollars a week for sixty hours work.
His rise in wealth he attributed to a single factor—luck. At one point he accidentally became privy to a deal that involved a certain shuffling of securities, and he was nicely rewarded for remaining silent. As a result, he had later been approached to serve as the front man for an operation that tested his ability to remain cool under intense police pressure. He had since moved horizontally, being placed in nominal control of bigger and bigger enterprises, some legitimate, some not, advancing as his ability to take orders and channel them was more thoroughly proved at each step. He had two indispensable qualities: he was entirely self-serving, which kept him from ever playing favorites; and he was free from any taint of greed, he merely accepted and enjoyed what fell his way and did not reach for more. When things were slow, he patted his belly, lapsed into a numb trance, and watched time pass.
His image of himself was at variance with the world’s image of him. To others, he was fat, ugly and mean; to himself he was a man robbed by destiny of physical attractiveness but compensated by that same destiny with immense wealth and power. He was able to buy the counterfeit of any human feeling by paying people to exhaust themselves at his bidding, while he chose from their outpouring of expressions those gestures and sensations that he desired. This was inevitably done in a sexual context.
From his religious training as a child, he carried away one thing, a deep appreciation of Ecclesiastes, whose wisdom he translated into a single sentence. “We all go to the same grave,” Al Leeds told himself, “so it doesn’t really matter what we do until we get there.” He had found nothing in his experience to contradict that insight. He held in contempt anyone infected with abstract morality, or anyone who followed a moral code because of fear of divine retribution. He had on one wall of his office two wooden plaques. The top one was inscribed with the words of Mammy Yokum: “Good is better than evil because it’s nicer.” The one under it had the words of Leo Durocher: “Nice guys finish last.” That pretty much summed it up for Al.
He now sat in a small room which adjoined the basement in Helene Benson’s Brooklyn brownstone. Helene sat next to him in a deep armchair. They were looking through the one-way mirror at a woman of about twenty-five who was lying in the middle of the floor fucking herself with a huge dildo. Al smoked a cigar and watched with lidded eyes. His breathing was slow and regular, his heartbeat normal. Helene was slightly distracted. She had had an intermittent pain in one of her back teeth for over a day, and like all people who have reduced their lives to monitoring the state of their physical bodies, everything that happened outside of her was seen as a mere backdrop to the internal phenomena.
Al visited the place from time to time. He owned the building, and Helene was on his payroll. The orgies she held and the swingers’ parties she organized were sponsored by an organization called Siege, part of a nationwide network joined by a magazine, membership cards, and word-of-mouth recognition. It was one of the offshoots of the conglomerate of companies of which Al’s distribution wing formed one portion. The people who belonged were all innocent of anything more far-reaching than their immediate gratification; they had no notion that even orgies were part of big business.
Al never took part in any of the parties himself but often sat in the small hidden room and watched. Occasionally, if he saw someone who tickled his appetite, he would have Helene approach the woman and discreetly proposition her. If the quarry showed some interest, she met Al. And usually he was able to estimate within fifty dollars exactly how much he had to offer to get the woman to do what he wanted.
“I’m very rich and I will pay you to do things which will probably disgust you,” was a line he used frequently. He enjoyed it best when there was a tension between revulsion and greed.
The girl in the next room was one such. She was now lying on her back, the dildo two-thirds inside her. It was a perfect replica of a cock in shape and detail, but it was eighteen inches long and four inches wide. She had jammed it in as far as it would go and with both hands was twisting it around violently, her legs split in a wide V. From the contortions of her torso and the expressions on her face and the deep groans that spilled from her lips, one would be certain she was experiencing profound sexual revelations.
But Al was bored. “She’s too pat,” he said.
Helene had offered the woman two hundred and fifty dollars to fuck herself for a half hour with a dildo, knowing that a man would be watching from another room, and deciding whether he wanted to use her personally. “If he takes you,” Helene had confided, “it means another five hundred on top of what you get for the first part. But you have to be really good and convince him that you want him to use you.” It was a cross between what’s told an actress who is trying out for a part, and the bait that is given to housewives on daytime quiz shows, in which they get a chance to win extraordinary prizes if they answer one question correctly.
“I think she’s sincere,” Helene told him. “She’s married, and her husband brought her to our last party. She’s just starting to break loose. And if he knew she was doing this he’d have a stroke. I think she understands what it is to be dirt, and she likes the smell of money. I think you can use her,”—all this delivered in the tones of an agent selling a particular model to an ad agency.
Al peered through the glass more intently. The woman was now on her knees facing away from him. He could look straight into the crack of her ass. She had grabbed the dildo from between her thighs and was ramming it into her cunt. Her cunt lips yawned obscenely around the thick bulk of the rubber shaft. She looked over her shoulder at herself in the mirror, her face distorted with dry lust, brought to a head by the knowledge that someone was looking at her, that she was being paid to exhibit herself in this way. Like so many others who act out the manifestations of the sexual Zeitgeist without any understanding of what forces compel them to act as they do, she had no way to explain her behavior except to tell herself that she was depraved. Technically speaking, of course, this was not so. She did not have the depth of intelligence to grasp what true depravity involved. But that she believed it was enough for Al, for it was a woman’s sense of her own lowness that he most appreciated. He was incapable of enjoying sex unless it involved the degradation of the person he was doing it with. He stared with unblinking eyes at the woman who did not know that he sat behind the mirror she was using to watch her exposed ass and violated cunt.
Al leaned back after a few moments, leaving the woman to continue without the benefit of his unacknowledged attention.
“Did that other one ever come back?” he asked.
Helene raised one eyebrow. “She works for you,” she said.
“For me?” he repeated, and for the first time that day a twinge of sensation shot through his cock.
“Well, for Lou,” Helene told him. “That’s the same as working for you, isn’t it?” She lit a cigarette and when she sucked in the smoke, she pulled it over the area of her aching tooth. “Jack invited her. You know, Lou’s salesman. And she’s one of the copy editors in the office.”
Al cocked his head to one side. He was in an attitude of thought but what was going on in his mind was more like a form of preconceptual scheming.
“So, if you want her, ask Lou. I don’t think she’ll be coming back here. It was just a curiosity visit.”
“She was good,” Al said. “Still fresh. And dirty. You know what I mean? Clean outside and dirty inside. She’d do anything, and hate it, and love it. And then come back, and beg for more, and need it. She’s a smut junkie. Her head is filled with pictures, and she wants to act them out. And she’s so prim and luscious.” He looked over at Helene. “Can you imagine how lovely she would look with my cock in her mouth?”
Helene stifled her retort. It did not pay to be too blunt with Al. But she could not resist letting some air out of his balloon. “I sat on her face,” Helene said, “and her mouth didn’t feel any different from any other mouth.”
“That’s because you’re only interested in the physical,” he told her. “You don’t understand about the imagination.”
In the next room the woman had pulled the dildo from her cunt and was licking it clean of her own secretions. She had shoved it into her throat and gagged violently. She was picturing herself, naked, open, a vile rubber cock in her mouth, being watched by she didn’t know who or how many. And she intruded into her own imagery by asking herself why she was doing what she was doing. When Helene had put the proposition to her, an unmistakable twinge of forbidden pleasure had spanned her thighs. The whole notion of exhibiting herself and prostituting herself touched a vital chord inside her. And the fact that her husband wouldn’t know, that this would be her secret, pushed her over the edge. She was a strikingly attractive woman, with red hair, breasts exactly the size of her cupped hands, deep thighs, sparse pubic hair, a large spongy cunt, and buttocks that curved a full hundred and eighty degrees. When she had married Jim, she had no idea of how sexy she was, and he had brought her out, little by little, and finally introduced her to swinging.
“Baby, you don’t know how much it would turn me on to see another man’s cock in your mouth,” he had told her.
And then he brought her to the orgy, where she had almost gone berserk at the glimpse of the seemingly infinite sexual panorama that opened before her. Of course, Al had spotted that. It was an old story. And he had pointed her out as the one for Helene to ask. In a rush of enthusiasm, the woman had said yes.
If anything troubled her now it was not that she was debasing herself too much, but that it wasn’t enough. In the four days since the invitation, she had lived in a sea of fantasies. Her imagination became sore with attempting to picture what would be done to her, what she would be made to do. And she carried on a silent conversation with her husband in her mind. “Want to see me with another cock in my mouth? Wait until you see me with three men in me at once. Wait until you see me with my tongue up another man’s ass.”
But after arriving at Helene’s, getting undressed, and performing for her hidden fan, she was becoming anxious. For there is just so much juice that can be derived from any sexual structure, and even lying spread-eagled with a giant dildo up one’s cunt before the eyes of an anonymous lecher had its limitations as a source of excitement. Her worst fear was beginning to be realized—that she would let herself go to the farthest extremes of excess, and that nothing would happen.
“Her time’s almost up,” Helene said. “Do you want her?”
“I suppose I’ll take her,” Al said. “Maybe I’ll have Mike and Larry work her over, get her to screaming a little bit.” He relit his cigar. “I suppose if she is loosened up she won’t be too bad.”
Helene shook her head. “Well for God’s sake, Al, what do you want? The poor bitch is practically tearing her tendons as it is.”
“No,” he said in a voice that, for him, was loud, although it barely rose above conversational strength, “it’s not the physical part. You keep misunderstanding that. It’s the look in their eyes. It’s when they realize they are helpless, when they know they are lost—even though they aren’t tied down, and no one is forcing them—when they discover that they weren’t doing it just for money, but because they like it. They like to lie at my feet and see the contempt in my face, and then wriggle up and lap at my cock. It’s not the sensation. I’ve had every conceivable sexual sensation, at least a thousand times each. I don’t care about their bodies. I want to suck their souls.”
He got up heavily, walked over to the counter at the back of the room, and poured a cup of coffee from the pot that had been steaming on a small hot plate. He put in four teaspoons of sugar, sipped it, made a face, and sat down again.
“What’s her name? The one that works for Lou?”
“Joan,” Helene told him. And then added, “By the way, I hear Lou is on his way out.”
“That’s right,” Al said.
“And Margaret is taking over?” Her tone contained a balance of surprise and envy. “She must be very good.”
Al saw no reason to expose the sexual aspect of his arrangement with Margaret, so he pretended that Helene’s last remark referred only to Margaret’s editorial and business abilities.
“She’ll do all right,” he said. “She still has a few fancy ideas about dirty books, but she’ll adjust. And maybe even give the place some class. Lou was getting tired. He wants to cash in and go enjoy himself in the sun. I’m half tempted to do the same thing.”
“So this girl Joan is now Margaret’s property,” Helene said, not bothering to hide the cattiness in her voice. “Do you think she’ll let you have her?”
“I went to see an analyst once,” Al said in a seeming non sequitur. “I lay on his couch every day for three weeks and then I got annoyed. I asked him to tell me, as succinctly as possible, what he saw in me. He told me, ‘You have such an extraordinarily low self-esteem that the only way you can feel decent is to watch someone else get lower than you are.’ It cost me almost two thousand dollars for that sentence, but it was worth it. Now I understand why I do what I do, and a couple of grand isn’t too high a price for peace of mind.” He turned to face Helene and squinted at her through the smoke rising from his coffee. “People who work for me do what I tell them,” he said, “or else they no longer work for me.”
Helene heard the assertion of supremacy in his voice and she realized she had pushed just a little too hard. Changing the subject quickly, she asked, “What do you want to do with her?” and pointed to the woman in the next room who was now lying face down on the rug, not moving.
Al gazed on the inert form. He had lost count of how many thousands of naked women he had seen, and yet, the sight was always exciting, if it was a new woman each time. He had tried to pierce to the heart of what the attraction was, for it pulled him powerfully even when he wasn’t horny. He looked at the body. Two legs, nicely tapered, but nothing extraordinary. Her back and arms and hair left him cold. Then his eyes went to her ass. And that was it, that was the source. There was something in the shape of a woman’s ass that contained a profound secret. Yet it seemed simplicity itself. Two globes and the space separating them. There was no way to grasp what precisely held so much fascination that each new ass seized his will, as though it were the first one he had ever looked at.
“If a man could understand the ass,” he thought, “all the mysteries of creation would become clear to him.”
He thought of Joan again and his cock stirred. He could picture her perfectly and was taken by a momentary ache to have her young body under him, her ass wrapped around his cock, as he split the twin orbs and sank himself into its depths. He shook his head. He didn’t want to get fixated on Joan or on any woman. That was the road to defeat. And yet, now that he had remembered her so vividly, her image was stuck to his mind like a fly on sticky paper. She was there, bending over in front of him, and again, sitting on his face, and again, leaning over the edge of a bed.
Al pondered the woman who awaited his word. And thinking of the contrast between her lying there and how she probably went about her usual day, he was struck once more by the split between the dull agreement which defines social reality and the full potential that people are capable of. For, of course, sex was only one of the many ways in which human beings kept themselves from total expression and feeling. And if an average housewife could be seduced into becoming the ragged, lascivious creature this woman had just shown herself to be, then the possibilities for people to realize themselves in an infinite number of ways were staggering. And yet, the species continued to stumble about in a condition of sleep and slavery.
“Send her to the equipment room,” Al said.
Helene got up to go into the next room, but Al crooked his finger and motioned her to come stand in front of him. She sighed and walked over to the chair. He made a motion with his eyes and she lifted the front of her dress, revealing bare legs and the fact that she wore nothing underneath. Al reached forward and cupped her cunt with one hand, and slipped one finger between her pussy lips. Helene showed no expression. Al brought the finger to his nostril and inhaled deeply.
“Beautiful bouquet,” he said. “Now get that bitch ready for me.”
Helene dropped her dress down around her knees again and went into the basement. Al stood, stretched, and went out another door into the adjoining room, which looked, at first glance, like a small gymnasium. But it was not like anything anyone would find at the YMCA. What seemed like massage tables were finely sculpted fuck slabs. A person could climb on one, and the table could be split apart, tilted, and bent in several dozen ways, so that the body on it might be presented in any attitude and position desirable. The exercise pulleys along one wall were actually free-swinging racks. A person could be tied and hung in any of a dozen ways, and weights hung from his or her body to attain certain specific effects.
Al was not interested in any of that today. Rather, he undressed and stood next to a wide, raised cot in the center of the room. Above him hung an intricate halter suspended from the ceiling. It was a variation on a device he had discovered in a Hong Kong whorehouse, where it was called the Chinese Basket Fuck.
A small door opened and Helene entered, leading the other woman, who had been blindfolded. Helene pushed the woman forward and then shoved her to her knees in front of Al. She seemed to vibrate somewhere between fear and wanton anticipation.
Al grabbed her hair and yanked her face up. Her mouth fell open. “You’re a dirty little slut, aren’t you?” he said. “Your husband opened you up, but he didn’t know what was underneath, did he?” He pushed her face into his crotch. “Suck that cock,” he ordered.
Her trembling mouth closed gently over his limp prick and her lips and tongue began to work it slowly.
“Doesn’t matter to you whose cock it is, does it?” he went on. “You’ll suck any cock for money, and for the thrill of it. You like being a whore, don’t you?”
Helene yawned discreetly. She had heard this litany many times. It astonished her how effective it was. For as so many times in the past, the woman had begun to whimper and was cupping Al’s balls with her fingers, sucking his cock, now almost hard, with urgent slurping sounds. Al was staring down at her, watching his cock disappear between her lips and slide out wet and glistening.
“You don’t suck your husband’s cock like this, do you?” he continued. “You don’t love it when it’s respectable. What you want is to be an open mouth, a cocksucker for whoever wants you.”
In the woman’s mind, however, were a different range of thoughts. She wondered whether she would be beaten, and hoped that no photos were being taken, and planned what she would do with the seven hundred and fifty dollars. Al’s words wove in and out of her stream of thought, and when she heard them, they sent her off on a brief flurry of clutched excitation. To be naked on her knees, blindfolded, sucking a strange man’s cock while Helene looked on, and then to be told that she was a bought cunt, gave her some of the thrill she had hoped would result from this adventure.
Al motioned to Helene, and his cohort grabbed the woman’s hair and pulled back, until her lips were only an eighth of an inch from Al’s cock. Al leaned forward and grazed her mouth with the tip of his cock, and the woman tried to reach forward to take it on her tongue. But Helene kept the pressure steady. They did that several times and then Al rasped, “Reach for it, bitch, reach for it with your tongue.”
The game was then clear. She was to yearn for his cock, openmouthed and tongue-curling, while Helene pulled her head back, and Al kept himself just out of range. Like any demonstration of the James-Lange hypothesis, the behavior gave rise to the concomitant feeling. And within a minute, the woman was actually straining to take the cock in her mouth, having been worked up into a somatic belief that she had to have it. She started to bleat, begging him to put his cock in her mouth.
A tired smile of satisfaction played across Al’s mouth. He had vindicated himself again, and reduced a woman to her most basic responses. His feeling was not unlike that of a rat psychologist who has finally trained an animal to leap when a certain color is flashed. He pushed his pelvis forward, and his cock jumped into the woman’s mouth. She gulped it voraciously, swallowed its entire length, spewed it out, swallowed it again, let it slide halfway out, and then kissed and sucked it with smacking sounds. Al let her suck his cock for several minutes, and then he made another gesture to Helene.
Helene pulled the woman away. Dragged back from the cock that was filling her, the woman protested, but Helene was too strong.
“You can use her for a while,” Al said.
Helene pushed the woman onto her back, and with a single motion squatted over her, tenting her torso and head with her dress. Under her dress, her cunt came down onto the woman’s mouth. The woman gasped, but Helene only pressed down harder. Her pelvis rocking, Helene fucked the woman’s mouth with her cunt, until she could feel the warmth beginning and the juices flowing. The woman started to lick the demanding pussy, and to suck its center. Helene rode her dispassionately until she felt her climax approach, and then closing her eyes, took her brief, small, neat orgasm, and let all the tension flow out of her legs. She sat heavily on the woman’s face and then stood up again.
“Put her in the straps,” Al said.
Helene guided the woman up and helped her climb into the halter that was hanging down from the ceiling. It was so constructed that the woman had to half lie in it, something like sinking into a hammock. Except that there was no bottom, and when she folded in the middle, her arms and legs extended, her buttocks hung down, exposed. Helene strapped her in tightly so that she was held in that position.
“Grease her up,” Al said.
Helene fetched a jar of Vaseline and, using two fingers, covered the crack between her buttocks and then inserted them into her vulnerable asshole. The woman, who had been told on her way to the room that she must not speak at all or not get paid, squirmed slightly. There was a kind of voluptuous pleasure which came from hanging down in such an inviting position, and then to have Helene’s fingers penetrate her anus and thrash about gave her the first real sensual glow she had had all day.
Al pressed a button next to the cot and the woman rose several feet in the air. Then Al lay on the cot beneath her, moved about until he had the proper position, and then pressed another button, lowering the woman down onto him. Her body descended until it was less than a foot away from Al’s, and then he stopped its fall with the appropriate button. Helene came over and put her head between Al’s thighs. She covered his cock with her mouth and sucked it slowly from its semierect state into hardness. When it had attained the necessary rigidity, Al pushed her head away, pressed the button, and watched the woman’s ass come down on his cock. He took his cock with one hand until he had positioned it right at her asshole, and when the halter descended its full course, the woman was impaled, her ass split on Al’s upright rod.
She let out a sigh of surprised delight. This was something utterly unique in her experience. She had been fucked in the ass before, but never like this, with the combined sensations of helplessness and weightlessness. She wished she could look in a mirror and see herself, suspended and sagging, covering her strange benefactor’s cock with her hanging ass.
Al pressed yet another button and a double motion began. The halter began to spin and to rise at a slow rate, an eighth of an inch for each revolution. The woman gasped audibly and Al let out a grunt of pleasure. She spun about effortlessly, the rotation making her slightly dizzy and causing her to glide more deeply into her feeling of disconnectedness. The sensations in her asshole were excruciatingly erotic. As she turned she was reamed out completely, the shaft of Al’s cock a steady friction in her anus, while the head hit all the surfaces of the canal inside. And as she turned, she was lowered so that at each instant a different portion of her was being fucked. It went so slowly and so steadily that she could give in to it thoroughly. It was the single most delightful experience she had ever had.
After what seemed like an eternity, she stopped and hung there, rocking gently, her ass grasping the very tip of Al’s cock. And then he pressed another button, and she started moving in the opposite direction, this time coming down instead of going up, so that each revolution meant a new level of penetration. She cried out in sheer anticipation of joy.
It was outrageous, insane. It went far beyond what she had ever considered when she thought of sex. It was so mechanical, so impersonal, so manipulative, that she should be turned off by it. And yet she couldn’t get enough. It was free and abstract sensation, and she was totally won over by the experience.
Al glanced at Helene, indicating that he wanted her to take the controls, while he lay back, his eyes closed, and enjoyed his end of the episode. The woman’s ass got hotter and hotter, looser and looser, and each ride up and down was like a lava flow on his cock. In his relaxed state he could lie there for a half hour before coming, and by that time the woman would be screaming. She would be taken to the outermost limits of her capacity for excitation, and then kept there for a very long time. And she would try to get loose, which would only cause her body to rock back and forth on his cock, adding one more motion to the up and down and circular activities already going on.
Al lay back and went into deep relaxation, almost dozing off, as one woman swung in graceful anal pirouettes above him, and the other handled the controls and buttons with the precision of an engineer at Cape Kennedy.
“It’s extraordinary what money will buy,” he thought. He conjured up an image of the woman’s husband. “Probably knocks himself out taking care of her, worries about her, tries to please her sexually, thinks he can turn her into a swinger and still have her be somehow faithful to him.” Al was filled with scorn for the entire swinging scene. “They’re all phonies,” he had remarked more than once. “Bored with marriage and too scared to step out of their emotional and financial bondage, they run around swapping and tell themselves that it makes their marriages stronger.”
He opened his eyes and looked at the body circling above him, the arms and legs swinging wide, the ass a steady blur.
“And for a couple of hundred bucks she’s ready to eat shit if I tell her,” he mused.
He treated himself to his favorite luxury, working up an intense hatred for everything and everyone, beginning with people who, he felt, had wronged him when he was a child, and progressing to his associates, political figures, and ending with a generalized blistering anger that pumped adrenaline through his system. And when he was cursing all creation, he focused the feeling in his cock and directed it right at the woman who was now giddy with disbelief at the reality of her situation.
“Scummy bitch cunt,” he hissed as he exploded in her bowels, his ejaculation pumping into her ass.
After a measured wait, Helene threw another switch that lifted the woman straight up without spinning her. Al’s cum dripped from her asshole and onto his thighs. He blinked several times, stretched, rolled to his side, and slid off the cot onto his feet.
“All right?” Helene asked.
“Sex,” he said. And in the grim articulation of that one word, he summed up a lifetime’s philosophy.
He walked off, heading toward the shower. At the door he turned and addressed Helene. “I want to see you later,” he said.
She glanced up at the woman who still hung in the air.
He shrugged, indicating he didn’t care what was done with her now.
The woman was close to shock. The abruptness and violence of Al’s climax, coupled with the speed with which she was pulled from him, coming after such a long time in her surrealistic position, spun her into a space in which she had no familiar thing or idea to identify with. She was ready for imprinting.
Helene reached under the cot and took out a dildo that was the replica of the one the woman had used in the basement room. It too stretched a foot and a half long and was four inches in diameter at its widest point. Helene held it in both hands, feeling the heft of it, and she smiled to herself.
Pressing a button, she let the woman descend until she was the length of the dildo over the cot.
“Aren’t we finished?” the woman said.
“Al’s finished with you,” Helene told her, “but I’m not.”
“But I didn’t agree to do any more than what I did with him,” she complained.
“You’re not really in a position to argue the matter, are you?” Helene said, and fastened the dildo under her, the tip at the center of the tiny anus. The woman felt the object and tried to squirm away, but she had nothing to grab on to. Helene pressed the button and the woman sank down an inch, the phallus sinking quickly between her cheeks and into her asshole.
The woman let out a cry.
“It’s like the one you were using before,” Helene told her. “Only this time you’re going to take it up your ass, the whole thing.”
“Oh my God, no,” the woman exclaimed, remembering the size of the instrument.
Helene pressed the button again and the woman began to rotate, her asshole sliding around the bulk of the rubber shaft. As she descended, she got to the thicker part, and she began to gasp with pain.
“It’ll go real slow,” Helene told her. “And you should be nice and open after that long warm-up with Al.” She clucked her tongue against her teeth. “Poor Al. He thinks he’s the main attraction and doesn’t realize he’s only the introductory act.”
“Please, let me loose,” the woman pleaded. “I’ll scream.”
“Place is soundproof,” Helene said.
“I’ll go to the police,” the woman threatened.
“If you want to,” Helene said smoothly. “But when I’m finished with you, I don’t think you’ll want to do anything but get more of the same.”
The woman let out a loud keening wail as she spun slowly and descended on the immense dildo which was fastened to the cot. When she was six inches down she was close to fainting. But Helene urged her on.
“That’s a third of it,” she said. “And you’re just getting to the widest part.”
She descended inexorably, spinning. “It’s a real screwing,” Helene thought. The woman’s anus stretched beyond what seemed reasonable to encompass the surrogate cock. Like a spider gliding down a thin strand, rotating evenly, she swallowed the mind-boggling rod. And just when it seemed she must split apart, something in her gave way, relaxed, and what had been the edge of an excruciating pain transformed into the first rushes of heat and pleasure.
“Oh!” the woman said in surprise.
“That’s right,” Helene said. “Feels good, doesn’t it? And you want more, don’t you.”
Unbelievably, she did. And she said so, in guttural pleas.
Helene ran the tip of her tongue over her top lip, and pressed the stop button. The woman let out a gasp of disappointment.
“Turning into a size queen already,” Helene said. She reached up and slid her hand between the woman’s thighs. Her cunt was dripping.
“I have to do a little business with Al,” Helene told her. “But it shouldn’t take more than five minutes. And you just stay there, and feel how good that thing is lodged in your ass. And think about what it will be like when I come back and let you have the whole cock, all eighteen inches of it.”
The woman started to tremble.
“And then I can show you some of our other little toys,” Helene added. “Would you like that?” And tweaked one of the woman’s nipples.
“Please,” the woman said.
“Please what?” Helene asked her.
“Please, anything,” the woman replied.
Helene left her there, knowing that the woman would provide a few afternoons of interesting diversion, and then would have to be politely edged out. Unless she were serious, in which case some spot in the organization could be found for her.
And as she went out of the equipment room to see Al, he was slipping on his jacket, returning to his guise of businessman, and thinking, “I’ve got to have that other piece. I want to rip her so badly she’ll never be the same again. I’ll put her in that halter and leave her there for two days, and put a dozen men under her, and fuck her blind.”
Occasionally, as with Joan, when his passion was really aroused, he not only wanted to besmirch, he hungered to destroy.