Stories
Eighth Avenue in the Rain
Eighth Avenue in the Rain
Wet, bedraggled. The desperate eyes, sallow complexions of the compulsive masturbators, drunks and thrill seekers. Hooded blacks, beer-soaked Hispanics in tee-shirts, unshaven middle-aged men in dirty raincoats. Wide-eyed college boys gaping at the marquee displays, horny French and German tourists, groups of Japanese businessmen like schools of goggle-eyed fish, all listening to the barkers' unlikely pitches. Looking around to hustle or to score. Perverts of every sort.
Maybe I fitted in nicely, too.
A Saturday night in Manhattan, a couple of blocks from the Port Authority on Eighth Avenue. It's been raining for ten days now, and traffic is stalled. I'm already tired of El Nino.
Soon all these sleazy businesses will be driven away. Some are already gone, further south, further west. But for now, it's still a magnet for those who hunt sleaze. And now, round 9pm, is prime time.
I met her right outside Ray's Real Pizza, stepping out into the pavement throng with a steaming slice in her hand. Short, in her late twenties, in black halter shorts and a low-cut white blouse. Stockings and clumsy high-heeled shoes, with thick soles. Huge candy-striped umbrella held high in the other hand. Big hair, lots of eye make-up, thick purplish lipstick. Through it all, rather pretty. Cute, and slutty. At first glance, I thought she might be Central American, but no, it turned out she's Italian. Dressed down for the neighborhood.
She saw my assessing glance and said: "Hey, good looking. Yeah, you. Want a bite? Don't you like it when it's all greasy and dripping?" A Jersey accent.
"Pizza or what?" I replied in my trademarked laconic style.
"Oh, you're a fresh one, huh?"
"Some say."
"Here, wanna get under the umbrella? You're looking like a wet rat."
Rain was dripping down the back of my neck, so this wasn't unwelcome. "Squeak squeak," I said.
"Going somewhere in particular?"
"Oh, just looking around. You know, the Saturday night thing," I reply.
"You been in one of those places?" she motioned, over her shoulder at a 'buddy booth,' 'all tastes' video store.
"Not tonight," I told her. "No point. You end up spending $20, and it's all a big nothing."
"Tell me about it," she said, meaning 'don't.'
Turning into a side street a couple of blocks up, she stopped, and said: "Here, hold the umbrella for a minute."
She unbuttoned her shoulder straps, started pulling her shorts and panties down. I sheltered her with the umbrella, looking round nervously. Then decided, what the hell. It was her idea, not mine. Her white ass on display as she squatted and pissed in the gutter, oblivious to the scuttling passers-by. She gave a gasp of relief. "Oh, I was bursting. Beer just does that to you, huh?"
She was looking up, a mischievous grin on her face. My eyes were on what she was showing. A furry bush. I nodded. She chuckled. "Go on, say it. I'm the crudest fucking woman you've ever met, aren't I? Tell me. I don't mind."
I replied: "Maybe. Maybe not. But look, just so we don't uh, have some kind of misunderstanding? I'm not in the mood for paying, if you don't mind."
"Paying? What do you think I am? A hooker? You cheap bastard! Shit, I'm just a girl out for a good time. Thought you looked the kind who might be too. But you're just another miserable perv, I can see." She was pulling her shorts up, tucking herself in. A nice trim body. Shame to see her covering it up again.
"Look, I'm sorry."
"Shut the fuck up."
"No, no. Don't be insulted. I didn't mean it. Can I buy you a drink, or something?"
She shrugged. "Maybe. Let's go in that place over there."
A long narrow bar. Men's heads turned as she came in. Turned back to their beers or the TV as they saw me in close attendance. I ordered a martini; she took a Four Roses, straight up.
"Cheers," we both said. A little gleam was in her eye. "Here's to something or other."
"Like, money and fame, and an end to this fucking rain?" I suggested.
"Or, profound enlightenment and a good time, or some such shit," she offered.
"Now you showed me your ass, you going to tell me your name?"
"Mary."
"From 'round here?"
"No, New Jersey."
"Which exit?"
"Very funny," she smiled. "Secaucus. Just over the river."
"Yes, I know it."
"So I don't have to explain why I'm here then?"
"No, I get it. You're on your own? Isn't it dangerous?"
"I was with some friends, girlfriends from work. But they wanted to go into this dike club they know, and tonight, oh I dunno, I wasn't in the mood for it."
"Oh?"
"Just that. I don't mind it. And I don't mind going dancing, either. But that wasn't my mood tonight. More hetero, more into hanging out. So, yeah, I'm on my own. Or not, huh? Are you still here?"
"Sure. But, uh, what kind of people can you meet here? Is it safe?"
"What's the problem? Safe, sure? Cops everywhere if there's a hassle. And people, right? Interesting ones. It's not the same in Times Square since they cleaned it up, Disneyfied it. I like funky people. Look around. The real world. And hey, what about you, huh?"
"Sociological research."
"What? You a college professor or something?"
"Novelist. Writer."
"Ah, I get it. Looking for characters."
"The only way to find them, in the real world. The ones in your head, well, they're not real."
"Have I read anything of yours?"
"Maybe."
"Not going to give me a clue?"
"Well, I use several names."
"Thomas Pynchon? Danielle Steele? Alexander Solzhenitisyn?"
"MrSpraycan."
"Doesn't ring a bell."
"Thought it might not."
"Sounds like a graffiti guy."
"Maybe. Fits what I do though."
"Which is?"
"Erotica."
"Oh, dirty books. Love 'em! What sort?"
"All kinds."
"Such as?"
"S&M, femdom, lots of spanking stuff. Some extreme things, too."
"Cool."
"But I don't do anything illegal, and I don't write any of the usual romance-type gush. It has to be edgy to interest me."
"Uh huh. Me too. And I guess that goes for real life, does it?"
I shrug. "Sure."
"So, where did you look for characters tonight? Anywhere good?"
"Just a couple of the review places on Eighth."
"Waste of time," she sniffs. "All too formalized. Too predictable, whatever the windows suggest. Like those midtown places with the table dances and stuff. Just money down the drain. You need to get deeper in for good stuff."
"What's good stuff?"
"Oh, you know exactly. Women who are real. Who aren't making five times as much money as the typical punter? Who have some control over their stuff? Face it, there can't be anything worse than having some chick do a lap dance, then refuse you the little extra."
"Such as?"
"Oh, putting your fingers in them? Fucking them? Giving you a blow job? Whatever," she shrugs.
"Reason it doesn't happen is too many undercover cops, too many shakedown artists, right?"
"That's part of it. But it's self-regulated, too. It's an industry and they sell what most people will buy. Which is mostly, a cheap thrill rather than a real experience. But hey, if you're into the kind of stuff you said, I know just the place."
"Really?"
"Right near here."
"Expensive?"
She shrugs. "Not such a big deal. Like, $10 to get in, drinks at sort of ordinary prices."
"Oh, yeah?"
"C'mon, I'll take you there. That is, if you're not ashamed of being seen with me?"
"No, you're fine," I told her. "More than fine."
She smiled.
"And, let me ask you something. The dike thing?"
"Oh, worried I'm going to play hard to get, is that it?" She lit a cigarette. "Uh, I do various stuff, alright? Don't worry about me and hetero, all that crap. I'm fine. You'll see."
I signaled for another round, and put a twenty on the bar.
"Hey. What do I call you? Mister? Spray?"
"Ray."
"Okay."
"So, what do you do, Mary? Apart from look cute, I mean."
"Hairdresser, at a place in Soho. Luna Eclipski's"
"Don't know it. Not a bad commute?"
"The pits, sometimes. Apartments are so fucking expensive. But it works. The hours are flexible. And it's a good salon. Means I'm already in the city, on nights when I want to go out afterwards. Like now."
"So, what's this place about?"
"Oh, you'll like it," she said mysteriously. Looked at her watch. "Let's make a move. Show time."
We poured down our drinks and left, a little unsteadily.
We headed out. A couple more blocks west, in one of those mostly unlit, rundown residential streets. To a basement entrance at the bottom of some stone steps. The brownstone above, mostly darkened. There was a faint pulse of music from behind the flat steel door. In a window on the ground floor a small violet neon sign, the word "Tovarich" in a script that had Cyrillic flourishes.
"Russians?" I said suspiciously.
"The owner might be. But he's never here. The girls, from all over. And the customers? Hey, it's New York. Choice selections from the scum of the earth, huh?"
She caught my slightly dubious look. "Come on, don't be a chicken. It's safe. You'll see some good stuff. Far out stuff."
"Not that old woman getting fucked by a dog shit, I hope."
"Puh-leaze! No, none of that. Come on, it'll be fun. And look at it this way, you've got me along too, if you get totally desperate," she smiled.
I gauged my chances and took a gamble. Wrapped my arms round her and kissed her. She didn't resist. Smaller than I'd thought, and yielding easily to the hug. Her mouth tasted of beer, cigarettes and cheese. I bet mine did, too. Our tongues flickered a little. Yes, there was some contact here. Some empathy. A good chance.
Tovarich isn't your typical clip joint. But it's not the Russian Tea Rooms, either. The entrance routine was the same as everywhere, a sullen pair of musclebound meatballs at the bottom of the food chain, glaring at every customer. They preferred cash. She, to her surprise, was admitted free. We walked in. A feeble attempt to make the place like a Soviet worker's club, circa 1923 has been made. Lots of heroic revolutionary art. A scatter of tables, a small bar. A stage. Dimly lit, and crowded. The air blue with cigarette smoke, billowing around the slowly revolving ceiling fans like storm clouds. Most of the customers were men, on their own. On stage, nothing happening right then. Eyes kept flicking that way, expectantly. A waitress came by and we ordered Coronas.
When the show resumed, it lived up to her description. At first, it was just a generic take-them-off scenario. A rather bored looking woman in a military uniform who got down to a pair of boots and peaked cap in about three minutes flat. Several more joined her. And then, I felt my cock hardening. The women were caressing each other, displaying themselves in vulgar ways. I leaned over and whispered in Mary's ear: "Sure this isn't the dike's place?"
"Very funny. Most men like this stuff. Don't you?"
"Sure."
"Then calm down. In a minute, their victim will be coming out."
"Ah." That sounded better.
And then, there she was, a waif-like girl in peasant rags. Barefoot, hair tucked in a scarf. The others leaped on her, and ripped the clothes to shreds. The musical backdrop to this was some gloomy symphonic stuff, Shostakovich in all probability. Makes a change from "You Can Keep Your Hat On," though. When their victim was naked, like them, she was dragged, struggling feebly, to the front of the stage and held aloft, legs spread to show us her genitals. With an eye for detail, I placed her at about thirty, but she was skinny enough to be a teen. That was the idea that they were trying to project. Two hooded helpers, guys, rolled a big wooden framework out on stage. The women carried the waif to it, and proceeded to strap her down. Legs and arms spread wide, facing us. Whips were produced as the music turned even darker. I felt Mary's hand on my thigh. Heard her whisper: "She's going to get it now."
A multi-tailed flogger for her back, a long paddle for her backside. They slowly dragged the framework 'round, so her back was facing us. And proceeded to slowly and methodically whip her. I found myself fidgeting uncomfortably. Mary glanced sideways and whispered: "Look around." I wasn't the only one with a hard on, but I hadn't unzipped to take care of pumping mine. She breathed: "I won't be offended."
"I'll wait," I replied.
"Me too, but I'm getting a wet patch."
The audience members who weren't jerking off started stamping and cheering, becoming very unruly. Shouting advice in various languages. The victim was letting out squeals of operatic volume, but doubtful musical content. And the women took turns with the flogger and paddle, stroking themselves lewdly in between sessions. It was over quite soon, with the victim released to kneel sobbing at the edge of the stage, kneading her welted backside with a look of dismay.
We ordered two more beers.
"So, like it?" Mary asked.
"Excellent. Is that it?"
"Oh, there's more," she replied.
"Don't you ever wonder where these women come from?" I asked.
"No, I know."
"And?"
"Russians, as you guessed earlier."
"Backbone of the local sex industry. An infinite supply of desperate white whores."
"Exactly. But that just accounts for the dominants in this place. Local junkies, mostly, the ones who get whipped."
"Paid in product?"
"Exactly. A week's worth dished out in daily doses, gives them time to recover. The marks to fade."
"That is, uh, rather exploitive."
"What isn't? Just another job, right? Take it or leave it. Everyone gets what he or she needs." She shrugged, and I nodded. And indeed, that seemed a fair recapitulation of capitalism, millennial flavor, to me.
There was a movement at her shoulder. It was the waif, still naked, with a collection bowl. Close up, I could see that my guess about her age was right. And there were needletracks on her inner arms. I gave her a ten, got a blank 'cheap fucker' stare and a flat-voiced "thank you" in return.
"How did you find this place?" I asked Mary as the waif moved to the next table, sullenly allowing the fat business type there to slip his chubby ringed fingers in her vagina for a twenty dollar contribution.
"Research," she replied. "And, uh, other stuff."
"Some dike brought you here?"
"Oh, spot on!"
I grinned. "I'm not being judgmental, okay?"
"I know you're not."
"Bisexual women are fun."
"Oh, we are yes," she laughed.
"Is that multiple personalities, or have you been making a survey?"
"Oh, a bit of both. But I know others, sure."
"And what sort of women do you go for?"
She grinned, then closed her eyes and purred: "Real hard ones. You know the sort? Nose rings, crew cuts, tattoos. Mmm."
"I know the type. Very good, Mary. Yes, I can see you being into that."
The next act began. Another scenario, of female Cossacks and a fresh victim, this time a woman in elaborate period costume, with hoops and stays and corsets to remove. She was stripped, and bent over and buggered with a dildo before the spanking began.
"Oh, very authentic, huh?" I murmured after it was over. "Very."
"You don't seem to think so, either."
"Yes, everything I know about history I learned in titty bars and buddy booths."
"Oh, I don't believe that for one minute."
"Well, I did go to college, if that's what you're fishing for," she says.
"I could tell. That's where you learned to piss in the gutter, right?"
"Exactly," she laughed. "Spring break stuff."
Something dawned on me. "Have you ever performed here?"
She laughed loudly. "Smart guy. Yes, once, about two years ago. It was a dare. They do an amateur night on Tuesdays."
"You were whipped?"
"And fucked, yes. Very intense it was, too. I got incredibly turned on. And I made $250 in tips, too."
"That, I would have liked to see."
"Everything comes to he who waits, is that how the phrase goes?"
"Would you do it again?"
"I might, yes."
After an hour, Mary nudged me. "Had enough?"
"Sort of."
We both felt the urge growing, I could see. To not just watch. My boner wanted to make itself useful. She had looked at her watch a couple of times before. Squeezed herself when she thought I wasn't watching. I got the message.
"So, somewhere else? Or can I give you a lift home?"
"Oh, going to Jersey too? Yes, sure."
We got lucky and found a cab dropping some people at the corner. We cuddled in the back as we were driven the few blocks to the park and lock.
"How do you know, when you pick up guys -- or women I suppose -- that you're not getting into something that'll be dangerous? You know, rapists, serial killers?"
"Oh, I trust my instincts. You're okay, I think."
"Thank you. But you don't know."
"I can tell."
We found my car quickly, climbed in. I saw her memorizing the registration number.
"Oh, neat car. What is it, a Mercedes?"
"Volvo."
"Real expensive, though. I thought you weren't short of money."
"Don't let that be the deciding factor, huh?"
"No, no. I'm impressed. Erotica pays well, then."
"No I have a regular job that buys the groceries and such."
"Real leather seats. Wow."
She started to undress as we drove down the exit ramp.
"Don't mind, do you?"
"Well, your clothes are wet, I guess, right?"
She grinned: "If I say I'm soaked to the skin, can I take them all off?"
"Sure. Absolutely."
"Good, 'cos I'm going to, anyway."
She was naked before we're through the Lincoln tunnel. "Where are we going?" I asked her. "Let's figure it out."
"Your place, mine or hey, somewhere quiet we can park and do as we want."
"How about yours?"
"Okay, if you can handle it. I didn't tidy up, though. Don't want to get the seats sticky, huh?"
"Doesn't bother me, love. It's uncomfortable fucking in a car, that's all. I can clean the seats."
"Alright then, I won't feel guilty then." She started to masturbate. "Tell me what you liked best tonight. Which girl?"
"Apart from you?"
"Very funny."
"No, I meant it."
"Well, thank you."
"I guess I liked the first girl."
"Did you notice, she came?"
"I wasn't sure if it was faked, but yes."
"It wasn't. Women can come from being whipped," she assured me.
"Sure they can. You?"
"Oh, you better believe it."
"Mm, that smells good."
"Should do, I've been having a very horny day today. Thank you."
"Why?"
"'Cause lots of guys get offended, Ray. At girls who rub, or a female smells. You're very cool about it."
"I like both. Like them a lot. It's sort of a trademark of my stories, actually. Rub as much as you want."
"How do I recline the seat?"
"There are some buttons on the side, it's all electric."
She slid back, and put her feet up on the front shelf.
"Oh, high tech. This is great. I'm getting so hot."
"Maybe the heated seat is on? Let me look. Nope."
"What? Oh, you're kidding. No, it's me, that's why."
"Yes, that's friction for you."
She gasped rhythmically for a few seconds, then speaking in a strangled tone said: "And that stuff we saw was good. You enjoyed it, huh? Told you it would be cool."
"I was impressed, yes. That your scene, maybe?"
"Which part?"
"Being a victim."
"Could be. Yes, it would make me feel good."
"Ah."
"You don't go for that?" she said anxiously. "Well, damn."
"Did I say anything of the sort? No. Sure, we can get into that. You like rough stuff? Is that what you're saying?"
"I do, yes. If you're sincere. Don't just play around though. Be rough, not just some sugar daddy being mean, yeah?"
"Oh, I'm rough by inclination, so you're in luck. You don't mind if I fuck you too?"
"Fuck me? Oh, yeah! I'm counting on it. Been counting on it for a while now. But, I want more than just that."
"So what do you want?"
"I want you to beat me, of course. And hard, understand?"
"You won't sit for a while after," I promised.
"Good. But not just my ass, either."
"No, that wasn't my plan at all. Do you have a whip, or am I going to use my belt on you?"
"If you want. You're welcome to use any of my stuff. I have lots," she invited. "You'll be pleasantly surprised."
We fell silent. Exiting Route 3 at Meadowlands Parkway, we drove to her condo complex. She handed me a passkey for the security gate, and in we went. She directed me to a row of duplexes, and I parked near the entrance to her place. She brought the seat to its regular position and gazed around. Looked at me, looked down at her nude body and said: "No sense getting dressed."
"It's your place, Mary. You figure it out. Want to risk it?"
"I've done it before," she grinned. "Join me?"
"What, take mine off too? Streak in?"
"That was the idea. But not streak, just walk in calmly. As if we own the place."
"We'll be seen. It's lit up like a prison yard."
"I doubt it."
I contemplated this foolish idea for a moment, rejected it as too crazy. She looked at me and said: "Dare you."
It didn't take long to get my sweater and shirt off. Kick off my shoes and socks, unbutton my pants and slip them down. My clothes joined hers on the back seat. Now we were both naked. She studied my semi-erect prick with great interest. "Alright! Yeah!"
"Like what you see?"
"Oh, you bet." She leaned over and grasped it in her left hand. It hardened in tribute. Bent lower and sniffed deeply. "Mmm. Almost as good as mine."
"You suck, I hope."
She grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Oh, I do everything, baby. You won't be the least bit disappointed."
We kissed hungrily, murmuring inconsequential words. I stroked her breasts, but I was finding the logistics of the car rather awkward. Why mess around, when we could be inside?
She pointed to the brightly lit apartment entrance. "Let's go, huh?"
She led the way, each of us with no more to cover ourselves than a bunch of keys in our hands. Up a staircase. I hurried, nervous we'd be seen. She was far more relaxed. I walked past her door and she called me back. "No, this one." She unlocked, with maddening slowness. The apartment was dark, smelled of cat food and Chinese takeout. There's a subtle difference. She flicked on a tiny light over the door. Beyond, the usual chaotic mess of real people's lives. Magazines, clothes, empty glasses.
"Big place," I said, looking around.
"Suits us," she replied with a mischievous twinkle.
"Us!?" I must have jumped six inches in the air. Looked round frantically. Suddenly conscious of being naked in someone else's space.
"Yes, I share. Oh, don't look so fucking panic-stricken. For God's sake. Men! It's dark, so she's either still out, or maybe she's asleep by now. We're okay, I'm sure."
"Mary, that's not funny."
"Really? Come on, don't be such an old prude."
"Well, I mean...I left my clothes, and..."
"Shy?"
"Sort of, uh..."
"Wouldn't have been much of a dare otherwise, huh?"
"I guess not, but..."
"Kiss me, and shut the fuck up."
We stood in the darkened kitchen and hugged. I felt her body sliding against mine, her hips bumping me. "Baby," she said hotly, in the approved fashion. Our mouths met and explored. My cock was much stiffer now. I wanted her, and soon.
Then, to my alarm, I heard faint footsteps. Before I could react, the fluorescent lights flickered, caught and snapped on, dazzling us.
And there she was. A young woman in a long flannel nightgown, clutching an empty glass. She dropped it in surprise, exploding into fragments.
"Ohh!!" the three of us yelped at once.
"Mary!"
"Connie!"
"What are you doing here?" they both said, simultaneously.
Her sleepy-eyed housemate was astonished. She had both hands pressed to her mouth now. And she was staring at the naked couple as if we were alien abductors. Most of all, at me, a hairy naked male whose prick had stiffened even more, betraying my lust.
Connie is tall and thin, with long black hair spilling over her shoulders. Prettier than Mary, but more conventional in her looks. Shy, but straight from whatever she'd been up to in bed -- and I think I know from her bedraggled hair and sweaty face -- she was showing unguarded interest in what she was seeing. I could have covered myself, or run from the room. But that's not my style. I decided to be what I am, an old goat. I'd been invited here, and I decided to let Mary make the excuses, thinking Connie would probably turn and leave.
"I stayed home. Too wet," Connie motioned. The sound of rain on the roof made her point.
"Oh, I figured you'd be out," Mary said lamely. "Sorry."
"Really! You're incorrigible, Mary," Connie told her, blushing red. "You could have called, you know."
"Forgot my cell phone this morning," Mary replied. "But listen, he's staying. Any problem?"
"Well, okay. Now you're here," she made a vague wave.
"Sorry, Connie, but it's going to be a noisy night."
Connie snorted. "Oh? Well I'll listen to Tori's new album, then." A martyred expression crossed her face.
Mary smiled gently, then told her: "Don't be disappointed. You can join us later, if you like."
Connie pursed her lips. "I might, but I don't approve of this whipping stuff, you know that. I take it that's what you meant by noisy, yes?"
"Uh huh," Mary smiled. "Exactly what I meant."
Silence.
"My new stud. Ray."
I nodded politely.
"I want him to break me in," she told her friend, with a faint tremor. She gave a hungry gaze at me. "As roughly as he wants."
Connie blushed again. "Oh Mary."
"He's equipped for it."
"I see, yes," Connie breathed. Her eyes were fixed on my cock. Envy and disgust.
Mary shrugged. "Fine, well feel free to visit. If I'm having a problem, you'll hear me."
She took my wrist and led me out of the kitchen, down a corridor to her bedroom. Another chaotic jumble.
"What's the deal with her?" I asked, wrapping my arms round Mary, and pushing her back against the wall.
"Oh, what can I say? Schoolteacher from Jersey City. We went to junior high together."
"And uh, are you a twosome?"
"Oh no. Nothing like that. Well, yeah, we do sex sometimes, and sometimes we don't. It's more a question of when we're between things, or if one of us is feeling lonely. You know, the sisterly thing. Why, do you mind?"
"Me? No. I approve, really."
"So, can she?"
"Join us? You already invited her, remember?"
"Right, but can she? Bother you?"
"I don't mind at all," I shrugged. "But what'll she do?"
"Sit and play with herself probably. She usually does."
"Oh, you've done this before?"
"Once or twice. With other girls, though. No guys."
"And she likes to rub, and watch? While you get fucked?"
"Yes, and so we can see her doing it. She's pretty inhibited, but once she gets started, it's okay."
I started fingerfucking Mary with short vigorous strokes. "And does she participate in other ways?"
"Yes, if she is excited enough."
"She will be, when she sees how much you are getting turned on."
Her reply is a groan of contentment and a plea: "Harder."
"Nice. So, reckon I can get her to sit on your face while I fuck you?"
"Oh, yes. I'm sure she'd love to. She loves to eat pussy."
"So do I. Juicy and ripe."
"Plenty of it for both of you, then," Mary said with a wicked grin. "Feel it running down your arm?"
"Yeah. And what about you? Want her hairy cunt on your face?"
"Oh baby, I'd like that a lot. With you in me, too? You bet."
"So, let's see these toys of yours, Mary..."
I pulled my fingers out, sniffed, and wiped them on her belly. She led me across the room. Opened a drawer, pulled out some hardware. I made a selection. "I'll use this, for now." I held up a fat leather paddle. Waved my hand across the riding crop, cane and flogger. "Later, we'll figure out what's best."
"Please," she breathed, clinging to me. "And remember, hard. Really hard."
"Now, where shall we start? Over my knee, I think."
"Yes," she gasped eagerly.
I found a chair, pushed a heap of clothes on to the floor, and dragged it to the center of the room. Sat down and beckoned her forward.
"Come on, stop wasting time." She draped herself over my lap. I tucked my penis between her thighs for comfort. Felt her juices drooling down. "Hands flat on the floor, Mary. And I want that ass up high. Understand?"
"What are you punishing me for?" she whimpered.
"Just for being a slut. That's what you are, isn't it? A whore?" My fingers were between her thighs, sampling her dribbling cunt. I licked my fingers, and growled: "This is a whore's hole, isn't it? Well, I know how we can get this a lot wetter, Mary." I tickled her anus with my little finger, and she pleaded: "Yes, sir. I'm a slut. A complete slut. Beat me, please."
"How does fifty strokes sound, for a start?"
"Oh, God," she gasped. Then let out a shriek as the first one landed, with a loud crack. I steadily pounded her, ignoring her protests. Her buttocks turned pink, then a deeply satisfying crimson. Sobs and moans escaped her now, but she choked back her yells. I worked over both buttocks, from the faintly indented mark of the elastic waistband of her panties to the backs of her thighs. And soon, her humping motions told me that my efforts were paying off. Before I got to the magic fifty number, she groaned passionately, squeezing my prick firmly between her thighs.
I dragged her to her feet, stared into her tear-filled eyes.
"Was that the beating you deserved?" I asked, smiling at her fear.
"Yes, oh thank you," she spluttered.
"It's not over, yet."
"Oh, please. Yes, don't stop."
"See what happens when you give yourself to a rough guy, instead of playing games with other girls? So much better, Mary."
"Yes, oh, my. Thank you," she panted.
I began stroking her breasts. Pinched her nipples hard, thumb and forefinger. "I think we need to slap these around too, soon," I threatened.
"God, no, you mustn't," she pleaded. "That's too cruel."
"You'll beg me to, before long," I told her, enjoying her shudder of fear. She knew she would.
I teased her. "How shall we do it? I know, I'll make you sit at your desk over there, with your tits laid flat on it. Tie your hands behind you, perhaps? I could do a nice job of slapping there."
She gasped at that. "No!"
"Or would you prefer to hold them for me, and let me use the cane on them, hmm?"
"Oh, you bastard."
"Yes, I am. And that's what you want from me, isn't it?"
She sobbed: "Oh, yes. You know that."
"Now, get on the bed, and stretch out flat. You need your back flogged, don't you?"
She wiped her tears, and whispered: "Yes."
"And why's that?"
"Because I'm bad."
"Not just that."
"Uh, because you're trying to break me in, aren't you?"
"Exactly. Spanking games are fun, but you need a lot more, Mary."
"You're the kind who possesses women, aren't you? Won't give in till they're completely yours? I can see that now."
"Right. Is that a problem? I don't think so."
"No, not at all. You're going to make me your slave, aren't you?" There's a hopeful look in her eye, a fresh lust.
"You like that idea, I see."
"I... I don't know, but..."
"Well? Would you oppose that? Can you resist it?"
"No," she gasped. "It's what I need."
"Slavery?"
"Yes."
"Well, it's not just a word. You'll have to earn it. Submit completely."
"I promise I will."
I shook my head. "Promises won't do it. Pain is what qualifies. You have to be beaten into submission."
She lowered her face and gave a sob. "Yes."
"And accept every humiliation I want to subject you to. All the vile and disgusting things I like. No use begging, once I get my mind made up. Just accept that, Mary."
"I will."
"Yes, you will. It's hard to humiliate a woman who's a total slut, but I'll do what I can."
A gentle tap on the door interrupted us. It was Connie, dressed in just a thin wraparound, the flannel nightdress gone. "Tori not so hot?"
"No, it's really great, but, y'know..." She stared at Mary's reddened backside, and swallowed nervously. Gazed at my hairy body, my insolent erection. "Come in, if you want," I told her. "Care to watch her being flogged?"
Connie shivered. "If I must."
"I warn you, it'll be rough."
"That's what bothers me."
"Stay, please," Mary gasped. "I need it baby. You know that. Come and sit up here where I can see you."
"She likes to be dominated, she tells me," I teased Connie.
"So she says."
"Why? You've never been tempted?"
"No," Connie said hurriedly. "Not at all. It's, well, not my thing."
"Stay and watch, and you'll see, won't you?"
"Connie? Please?" Mary reinforced.
"Oh, alright," Connie conceded, scowling at me.
"Good, so let's get on with it. You can take that robe off, for a start," I told her. "'Cause, what she wants to see is you playing with your pussy."
Connie blushed, but slipped the robe off. She was very attractive, naked, in the brightly lit room. Even thinner than I'd suspected, and deathly pale.
"That's better. In fact, what she's planning, if it'll help you get in the mood, is for you to squat on her face while I fuck the living daylights out of her."
Connie and Mary gazed at each other, and gave mutual shudders of delight.
"Yes," the young schoolteacher sighed. "Oh, that would be so fucking good, yes."
"Then get stirring the pot, huh? Let's make it juicy for her."
And with that I brought the flogger down across Mary's shoulders.
Connie gazed with awe as I beat Mary's back. Concern furrowed her brow. But she sat perched on the edge of the bed, masturbating quickly, her thighs spread so Mary had a perfect, close up view of her friend's vulva. My expert eye told me that she had conquered her inhibitions because she'd been doing this alone, most of the evening already. Connie was breathing deeply, her mouth half-open, staring at the clusters of red lines appearing with each stroke.
It was Connie who made the suggestion that sent Mary over the edge for her next orgasm. Gazing at my erection, she murmured: "You should ram that in her asshole before you give her cunt any mercy."
"You girls are much cruder than I gave you credit for," I replied, giving my cock a squeeze. "Yes, that would be a pleasure. So tell me, do you two play with each other's assholes, too? Are you into dirty games like that? Can we give Mary an enema, and then really go to town on reaming her out?"
"You bet," Connie answered with a playful grin. "It's her turn for it, anyway. And your tool looks like it'll do her more good than the dildo."
"Well, thank you. That's very ladylike. Very diplomatic." I brought the lash down harder on Mary's striped back. "Perhaps we should pump it up, then cane her while she holds it in? Something that might not have occurred to you, Connie, being the kind-hearted sort."
"That's so mean," Connie gasped.
"Yes, I guess it is. But that's what she needs, isn't it?"
Both women moaned, for different reasons.
"Give me your hand," I ordered Connie. I sniffed her slippery fingers, blew a curly hair away, and lapped a drop of her dew from her fingertips.
"Delicious," I told her with my nastiest smile.
"So, here's the plan," I told them. "I think we'll save the buttfucking till later. There's no rush. Let's get stuck into Mary's cunt first. I'm getting to the point I need it. And you, baby, can saddle up on her face. You're kinda messy, but it's what she deserves. Enjoy the ride though, 'cause then it's your turn, okay?"
"Oh, that's so filthy," Connie protested.
"You trying to pretend you never ate each other before? Please, be real."
Mary pleaded: "Listen. I need to be fucked. Please, don't keep me waiting. It's cruel."
"That's what I'm famous for, girls."
Another stroke, across her buttocks.
"Are you really going to fuck her, too?" Mary gasped, wriggling and gripping the sheets in her fists. That had hurt, I could tell.
"I haven't been invited, but, uh, why not? Would she say no, hmm? Is she good and tight, or a slimy-cunted fuckslut like you?"
Connie was rubbing wildly now, and there was a spreading stain where she was sitting. "Oh," she groaned. "Yes, yes...fuck me, yes, you've got to." Her climax was seconds away, and she was red-faced with excitement. Her breasts pink, her neck blotchy.
"And you can suck my cum out of this bitch while I do it."
Both women shuddered with delight at this disgusting but lovely idea. "You're the filthiest man on earth, aren't you?" Mary croaked. Outside, the rain continued to fall. But so what? Rainy day women, to keep me warm. I'd be there for the night, I was sure. So many possibilities to explore.
"So they say," I replied with a shrug, starting to lash her violently. "I'm working on it, yes. It's my art."
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