The Cycle Sadist
by Frank Unger


FOREWORD 

The pulsating roar of the throbbing motorcycle engine, the monstrous 
mechanical beast, whose control defies an average man, strikes terror in the 
hearts of the listeners. Of all man's mechanical masterpieces, the 
motorcycle embodies his very essence: Man, The Animal. Pure Raw Sexual Man. 

The cult of motorcyclists and their individual clubs is the dreaded fear of 
every small town and every large city in this country. And at the same time, 
their fearless freedom is the envy of every man as they hurl through towns 
and cities, wreaking havoc in a cloud of ear-shattering noise and breakneck 
speed. They are irresistible to young girls with their lusty physical 
defiance of society, of law, and most important, of death. 

Mitchell Latimore and The Stompers Motorcycle Club are not unique. The wild 
orgiastic parties at their clubhouse--drugs and alcohol and sex flowing 
freely, partners interchangeable (What else can you do with a woman but 
fuck?), the inevitable disintegration of the "brothers" in torturous battle 
with tire chains and studded belts are an undeniable, however appalling, 
part of our society. 

Psychotics? Misfits? Lost Children? Whatever they are, our society created 
them and they will not be denied. The next time your local newspaper details 
a gory, torture slaying, by a suspected motorcycle cult, remember that the 
slain was there by choice and he--or she--understood the laws of the cult... 


CHAPTER ONE 

Mitchell Latimore was twenty-two, tough, wiry, and the undisputed leader of 
a weird assortment of vicious bikers who called themselves the Stompers. 

Most of his days were spent in the Stompers clubhouse, which is to say, in 
the garage where many of the members, including Mitch, lived and worked. 
Their work consisted of stripping three or four motorcycles a month and 
reassembling them in new combinations. The bikes were simply taken off the 
streets, adorned with new engine cases, painted, chromed, and chopped. 

They were then delivered to a local motorcycle dealer for resale. The dealer 
provided the bill-of-sale and no one was the wiser. 

Cathy, who was Mitch's female counterpart as well as his girl, was a 
luscious redhead who had more or less complete control over the motorcycle 
gang's dozen or so names as well as nominal control over the members' 
individual girlfriends whenever they participated in any of the club's 
activities. 

Mitch saw her walking in the street one hot summer day and immediately 
approached her. When Cathy coyly accepted his curt invitation to go for a 
ride, she had no idea that the handsome young motorcyclist was about to 
change her whole life. 

She marvelled at Mitch's cool and confident handling of the monstrously 
powerful machine as they weaved and twisted through the city streets. The 
roaring motorcycle's seemingly endless capacity for acceleration and speed 
amazed and frightened her. 

Mitch tooled the machine into a secluded park and turned off the thundering 
engine. The silence was deafening as he escorted up a path that led into a 
thickly wooded glade. 

He grabbed Cathy by the arm, pulled her down onto the bed of pine-needles, 
pinning her there with his body. She struggled, trying to scream, but he 
clamped his mouth tightly over hers, forcing her lips wide with his lips and 
tongue, sending his probe driving into her soft, warm mouth like a cock 
driving into a vagina, like his cock was soon going to be driving into her 
tight little hole. The terrified young girl continued to struggle, but each 
motion only crashed her body harder against his and she could feel the 
hardness of his masculinity pressing against her bare thigh through the 
cloth of his slacks. He was going to rape her! She knew it, could sense it! 
She had often dreamed of the first time she would do it with a boy, and it 
had always been dreams of good, tender, gentle lovemaking... not to be 
ravaged by somebody she liked and trusted who had suddenly gone mad... 
noooo! 

But the young teen-age girl was helpless beneath the powerful arms and body 
of the lust-crazed Mitchell Latimore. Holding her tiny hands together above 
her head in one of his own massive hands, the dark-haired youth pulled her 
T-shirt up with his other hand to expose the taut, bra-encased globes of her 
budding breasts. Then brutally, he hooked his fingers in the bra between the 
twin mounds of teen-age loveliness and jerked downward once, twice; finally, 
the thin material of the bra gave way, ripping free, exposing her breasts 
completely to his fevered gaze. His eyes feasted on her trembling flesh, and 
the one hand went up to the small, perfectly round breasts, pinching one 
tiny coral nipple until it stood firm and erect and then repeating the 
process with the other. And then his mouth pulled away from hers, swooping 
down to engulf one breast greedily, paying no attention to her gasping cries 
of protest and fear... they were too far away from the cabin here, no one 
could hear her... 

Mitch licked voraciously at the chaste, pliant flesh of the teen-age girl's 
breasts and nipples, his cock near to bursting with desire, demanding to be 
freed. Cathy's body twisted and jerked beneath his fiery tongue, and he 
sensed somehow that her motions were not all due to fear, that at least in 
part his mouth on her naked tits was having some kind of arousing effect on 
her. Faster and faster his mouth and tongue licked over the trembling young 
globes, setting them afire with his liquid firebrand. Then his hand dipped 
down, caught the waistband of her shorts, and began to tug them down, down 
over her squirming buttocks and thrashing legs. Cathy tried to resist, but 
her twistings only succeeded in eventually helping the lust-fevered youth 
drag her shorts and panties down her quivering thighs, over her jackknifing 
knees and triumphantly off. She was naked now, except for the bunched 
T-shirt at her throat, and he cried out with desire at the sight of her 
young, developing teen-age body, the light tawny-colored down of her pubic 
mound, the tight wet pink slit of her virginal cunt. The sight sent him 
almost mad with desire, and his fingers crawled over her soft, fleecy pussy 
hair, dipped between her palpitating thighs, pushing them apart with cruel 
inexorability so that he could cup and squeeze the pure, hotly wet pubic 
mound and innocent pussy slit with wild abandon. 

"Ooohhhhhhh!" Cathy cried out in fear, flailing her head from side to side 
as she felt his merciless touch on her secret parts. "Stop it, Mitch... oh 
God, help me, stop itttttttttt!" 

But he held her wildly straining body helplessly pinioned to the bed of pine 
needles, imprisoning her with his weight like a great stone upon her. Her 
long silken hair was thrashing almost insanely from side to side beneath 
him, her lovely young face twisted grotesquely in terror. Her wide-open eyes 
stared up at the passion-contorted features of the dark-haired boy, and her 
brain screamed torturedly, helpless, No, no, no, please don't let this 
happen, I don't want it to happen, not like this! Oh please Mitch, don't do 
this, don't rape me, don't hurt me, oooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! 

But as if in the telepathic contempt of her mute plea, Mitch began digging 
at the fastenings on his slacks, dragging them down, pulling his undershorts 
away from his huge, rock-hard, throbbing cock. Through fear-widened wet 
eyes, the lovely teen-age girl could see its massive girth, its hard 
blue-veined head, the wet droplets of seminal lubrication oozing from the 
glans opening. She tried to scream again, but her throat muscles failed her 
and she could only thrash insanely, futilely, under the heaving weight of 
the lust-incited Mitch Latimore. 

Suddenly, the dark-haired boy moved over on top of the tortured teen-ager, 
forcing himself brutally between her slender legs, his hips falling heavily 
to wedge her tender young thighs into a wide-spread position, securing her 
jerking buttocks to the spongy ground. The soft down fleece of her pubic 
hair brushed tantalizingly against his throbbing cockhead, inciting him to 
unintelligible babblings of frenzied, uncontrollable lust which drowned out 
her low, tormented cries of fear and anguish. He placed his knees to hold 
her open to him, grinding his pelvis hard into her defenseless, squirming 
crotch. He clutched his cock and worked it teasingly up and down until he 
split the moist, tightly virginal slit of her cunt with his prick's swollen 
tip. Mercilessly, then, it discovered the snug, undefiled opening to the 
soft warm passage between her legs, poised there-- --And rammed home! 

His long sleek cock slid into her tight, vainly resisting little cunt with a 
roaring fury, pushing the soft, moist flesh of her vaginal walls in 
pressured waves before it, deeper and deeper, tearing her hymen like so much 
tissue paper before its heinous assault. Her naked passage felt as if his 
plunging weapon had ripped it into a thousand tiny, painful shards, and then 
his balls slapped harshly off her wet furrowed buttocks and he was filling 
her completely with no thought of mercy or injury. His shaft lay sunk deep 
in her belly, like a white-hot pole of living fire rammed into her, and 
there wasn't one tiny ridge of its flesh the soft, tender walls of her cunt 
couldn't feel, a thundering weapon enclosed in the moist warm sheath like a 
lance driven deep, deep into a cowering victim. 

Mitch lay unmoving for a moment, peering lustily into her wet, contorted 
face, his breath thudding into her face like that of a satyr's, mingling 
with hers, and then, suddenly, she felt a throb from deep inside, the 
breadth and length of his virile cock jerking up into her another half-inch 
as he flexed it into her virginal passage. Then he began a slow, rocking 
motion between her thighs, searing her soft sensitive flesh with waves of 
pain as his expanded prick widened the tight narrow passage with each short, 
smooth stroke. Cathy's legs jackknifed out wildly in a crazed effort to 
escape the barbaric impalement but it only served to worsen her position. 
Mitch heard the guttural screech of further pain which came tumbling 
piteously from deep in the subjugated young girl's throat as his rock-hard 
shaft battered deeper and harder into her warm, yielding flesh. 

"Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!" Cathy wailed again and again. 

Her hapless cries of pain and fear only drove Mitch on to greater chargings 
deep into her soft, tight pussy; nothing was on his mind now, nothing except 
the tremendous load of semen which weighted his heavy balls. The twin blocks 
of lust slammed against her moist flesh as he withdrew his giant rod and 
plunged forward again, withdrew and plunged. Faster and faster his pelvis 
slammed downward against the sweating, defenseless loins of the naked young 
teen-ager, without giving her womb the opportunity to adjust itself to his 
cock. There was nothing for him but cumming, cumming... 

Cathy's brain was awhirl with skittering thoughts, with pain and now, 
strangely, perversely, something else. It's inside me, she thought, a man's 
thing is inside me for the first time, sawing in and out of me and it hurts, 
ooohhhh it hurtsssss. It's so hot and hard in there, I thought it would kill 
me when he shoved it in but now it doesn't feel so bad even though it still 
hurts... it's so hot inside me, oooohhhhhhhh so hot and hard... 

Then, all at once, her body, as though it was severed from her futilely 
resisting mind, began an involuntary reaction to the fierce hammerings of 
Mitch Latimore's monstrous weapon inside her tight, tender vagina. Her whole 
being began to twist and writhe beneath him and she groaned incessantly. 
Mitch's hot, hungry mouth sought hers, closed over it, and she moaned into 
the moisture of his mouth and then shoved her tongue reflexively, wildly 
deep into his throat. Faint mewls of animalistic, servile acceptance raised 
from her young chest in torrents, her face wrung with passion, mouth 
toiling, neck straining, nostrils flaring as lewd flames of desire began to 
flash through her, consuming her, causing sweat to burst out all over her 
thrashing body. 

She was liking it! 

She was enjoying Mitch's penis inside her! 

The revelation that this was truth struck the lovely teen-age girl with the 
impact of a kick in the stomach. It couldn't be true, it couldn't, and yet 
it was, undeniably so! Her pussy had adjusted itself to the girth and length 
filling it, and the pain was gone, and his cockhead resting against her 
cervix on the instroke was like a firebrand of delicious heat. Her entire 
body was tingling, and she could feel sensations she'd never known before, 
sensations that were unmistakably sensual passions that had been stored in 
this child's body just waiting for release, just waiting for the opportunity 
to transform her from a little girl into a hedonistic weapon. 

Just waiting for a man's cock. 

Involuntarily, giving herself up completely now to the wild sensuality 
taking control of her flesh, Cathy flung her legs wide to give Mitch more 
access to her throbbing, aching pussy. She no longer was aware of fear or of 
pain, of any knowledge except the swirling heat which had attacked her body 
like a raging inferno. Her hands clutched convulsively at his back, nails 
raking across it, drawing skin with them and raising small welts in her 
ardor as she sent her tongue screaming hard into Mitch's mouth, their saliva 
commingling and flowing wetly from the corners of her soft, pink lips. 
Crazed with passion and arousal now, the lovely young teen-age girl flung 
and rolled her hips beneath the hot shaft submerged in her young, no longer 
innocent belly, her pussy walls completely attuned to his pistoning shaft 
now, accepting everything he could give to her newly-conquered cunt. The 
twin swollen sacs of his testicles rammed harder and harder against her 
quivering buttocks as he sought his release. 

And as he neared the brink of orgasm, it penetrated to Mitch's 
passion-saturated brain that Cathy was no longer fighting him, was no longer 
afraid, that her scratchings on his flesh were done out of desire rather 
than fear. She was helping him, fucking with him now... son of a bitch if 
she wasn't liking it! The way her tongue flared into his mouth, the way 
she'd thrown her legs wide, the way she was twisting her body in the 
newly-discovered rhythm of a sensual woman first experiencing sexual 
intercourse... they all told him that she liked him fucking her, liked it, 
wanted it, wanted him to cum, to cum and fill her up with his hot molten 
seed... 

That was the trigger of the dark-haired youth's crashing climax. His cock 
began jerking insanely in her soft, elastic pussy as he bucked and heaved 
above her; great billows of heat swirled through his loins as he emptied his 
burgeoning balls of his seed, as the molten cum raced along the length of 
his cock and exploded inside the virginal belly of the squirming young 
teen-ager beneath him--again and again and again, a never-ceasing flow of 
liquid fire filling her chaste cunt, despoiling it with its lusting 
intensity, overflowing it to pool between her legs on the pine needles 
below. 

And Cathy accepted his cum, mewling wildly into his mouth, her legs kicking 
and jerking in the air in spasming jolts as the hot fire of his cum jarred 
her womb again and again. Never had anything felt this good! Never had she 
known such intense feelings! Oh God, was this what doing it was like all the 
time? Was this the way it was, this crazy wild abandoned feeling? Oooohhhh, 
so good, so good, now if only she could cum too, experience an orgasm for 
the very first time in her life even as Mitch was spewing his fire into her 
belly... 

But she was to be denied that experience, denied the release she strove for 
with every muscle in her young, inexperienced body. Mitch's prick gave one 
final, jetting spurt of his fiery cum into her pussy and then he collapsed 
over her, pinning her down. His rapidly deflating cock slipped from the 
tight sheathing warmth of her no longer innocent cunt with an obscene 
sucking sound, trailing a thread of semen across her virginal white thigh 
like the trail of a snail as he rolled off her, still clasping her tightly 
to him. 

"Oh Christ, oh Jesus, Cathy!" Mitch breathed raggedly, covering her sweating 
face with moist, hot kisses. "That was wonderful, the best I've ever had! Oh 
Cathy, honey. I'm sorry I was so rough but you were driving me crazy... I 
had to have you, I just had to!" 

Far from being upset, Cathy had responded to his ungentle handling of her 
lavishly pliant body with unbounded enthusiasm. She enjoyed being forced to 
accommodate to the uncouth outlaw's every whim. He screwed her twice in 
rapid succession, sinking his throbbing shaft deep into her succulent snatch 
and virtually mangling her lithe body with his powerful hands. 

Cathy couldn't get enough. She begged him to allow her to suck his soft, 
spent prick in order to arouse it once again. Mitch made her beg on hands 
and knees before he let her have it. She managed to cram its entire length 
into her hungry mouth. Her tongue was like hot fire as it caressed the tip 
and worked itself down to the very root of Mitch's manhood. She gulped his 
semen eagerly as Mitch's pulsating prick sought the back of her thirsty 
throat. 

They spent the entire afternoon exploring each other and romping on the old 
and scratchy army blanket. They enjoyed themselves immensely and without 
reservation. Cathy had never felt anything like it before. She loved Mitch 
and didn't want to ever lose him. Mitch, for his part, had never encountered 
such a willing chick and knew instinctively that he could do anything his 
little heart might desire with her beautifully supple pink-skinned body. 

They'd been together ever since, although Mitch would also take on just 
about any other broad who struck his fancy and sometimes made Cathy give 
herself to some friend or cohort or even to some paying john. Cathy accepted 
it all willingly and without question. She was Mitch's girl and proud of it. 

Within a year of his meeting with Cathy, Mitch assumed the leadership of the 
Stompers. He naturally elevated Cathy to supremacy of the club's female 
contingent. She responded to this great honor by arranging the biggest and 
the best orgiastic bash the club members had ever seen. 

One of the featured events was Cathy herself, loaded on L.S.D., making mad 
and passionate love to a righteously chromed "chopper" before the entire 
audience of assembled outlaws. They went wild. She offered herself to anyone 
who cared to take her. Four Stompers stepped forward simultaneously. 

She managed to take them on by inserting one cock in her cunt, one in her 
ass, one in her mouth, and one in her hand. She used her remaining hand to 
maintain her precarious balance as she struggled to please the four men. 
They spiked and rammed her mercilessly as she fucked and sucked and stroked 
their rampaging pricks. 

Mitch watched impassively as one after another of his comrades took their 
place in line around Cathy. She'd been fucked at least twenty or twenty-five 
times, front and rear, when Mitch finally called a halt. He betrayed no 
element of emotion as Cathy continued to writhe and undulate on the old 
mattress for several minutes after the last of her ravishers had withdrawn. 
She was covered from head to toe with sweat and semen. 

Mitch pulled her roughly to her feet and propelled her over the greasy floor 
to the bike she'd been caressing earlier. He forced her naked body over the 
seat. After removing his two-inch wide garrison belt, he proceeded to whip 
her mercilessly across her twitching buttocks. 

She cried and pleaded with him to stop but he merely intensified his attack. 
He called out for Janet, one of the club mamas, to come blow him. Janet was 
a mama who'd been around for a long time. She was fairly pretty, with 
ash-blond hair, shapely well rounded breasts, and more than ample thighs. 
Her belly bulged slightly above the small mound of curly hair which covered 
her puss-lips between her lovely hips. 

Janet came forward and immediately dropped to her knees in front of Mitch. 
She loosed his pants and worked them slowly down over his hips. She cupped 
his hanging balls in her gentle hands and traced his eight-inch cock with 
her juicy-moist tongue. 

As Janet's mouth sank over Mitch's rock-hard dick, he began stroking Cathy's 
now beet red ass with renewed vigor. She squirmed and wiggled but made no 
real effort to escape the stinging bite of the belt as it tore into her 
cringing flesh. She begged and pleaded with Mitch to spare her but he only 
flogged her harder and harder as Janet's sultry mouth brought him nearer to 
orgasm. 

While spattering his cum into Janet's eager warm mouth, he smashed his still 
booted foot into her flabby-soft belly, sending her sprawling onto the cold 
cement of the greasy garage floor. 

 CHAPTER TWO 

Mitch was enjoying the panorama of exploding sex when his eyes happened to 
behold a cute little dish that he couldn't recall having seen before. She 
was preoccupied with fucking Crazy Willie Whitehouse. Willie was known as 
Crazy because he'd been thrice committed to the State Mental Hospital at 
Greystone. Crazy Willie knew more about psychology than the psychiatrists 
and claimed he could fool them every time. He must be right, Mitch 
reflected, since they always let him out. 

Willie was certainly one of the most dangerous of the Stompers and the 
members had great respect for his fighting prowess. He was truly demented 
and would kill or maim an opponent without a thought before or a regret 
afterwards. He was truly vicious and Mitch was a little afraid of him. 

The chick he was fucking had long blond hair and was built like a brick 
shit-house. Her face was buried in Willie's skinny shoulder but Mitch was 
sure that she had to be beautiful. 

Her lush, fully-ripened ass was bobbing like hell as she rode Willie's pig 
sticker. Her boobs, large and well formed, peeked out at Mitch even though 
they were partially crushed up against Willie's bare chest. She had her arms 
locked tightly about Willie's dirty neck as her sweet love-box slid up and 
down his pulsing prick. 

Mitch sauntered over to where the couple were wildly fornicating and 
remarked casually to Willie on his fine choice of woman. Willie made no 
reply and seemed not to have heard Mitch. Mitch kicked him in his side and 
repeated his remark a bit louder. 

Willie smiled up at him and said, "You're welcome to her--as soon as I'm 
finished, you can have her." 

Mitch thanked Willie nicely and then. 

without warning, he pulled the pretty blond-headed bitch from her perch and 
threw her to the ground. She and Willie both looked up at Mitch in 
dumbfounded amazement. 

"What'ya do that for?" asked Willie in hurt indignation. 

Mitch laughed and called out to Stickman Johnson, the club's finest pool 
hustler and one of their strongest street fighters, who was just then 
rambling past the trio in one of his usual alcoholic dazes. 

"Whadda'ya want me for, mother fuckers?" he asked the threesome in the 
standard jargon of the bike riders. 

"Dig this bitch, man," said Mitch pointing to the naked blond sprawled on 
the cold cement floor. 

The girl looked from Mitch to Stickman with stark terror in her big blue 
eyes. Her eyes fled in an effort to find help. There was none forthcoming 
from any quarter. In desperation she turned them on Crazy Willie. 

"Do not be afraid, nor even fret, my pretty little wench. These two uncouth 
ruffians shall harm you not!" said Willie employing his classiest language 
to calm the girl and lessen the genera! tension. 

Stickman grabbed Willie's thin arm and poor Willie seemed to sail into the 
air and onto his feet alongside Stickman's giant frame. "What the Hell do 
you mean by that?" asked Stickman clutching Willie's fragile arm in a vise 
like grip to insure an answer. Willie countered by stomping on Stickman's 
somewhat tender toes but since Willie had forgotten that he was bare foot, 
in fact, totally without clothing, his courageous gesture failed to produce 
anything even remotely resembling the intended effect. 

Stickman roared out in that peculiar laugh of his that always meant that 
someone was about to be crunched. Willie's eyes looked suddenly sick and his 
stomach dropped clear down to his naked toes just before the lights went out 
for him. 

Stickman was merciful because Willie was a good friend of his. He merely hit 
the much smaller man three or four times. He hit him just enough to knock 
him unconscious and bust his nose. When Stickman finally released his grip 
Crazy Willie sagged to the floor like a used up rag doll. 

Mitch, meanwhile, had dragged the pretty blond onto the mattress and was 
merrily making love to her as Stickman wandered off only dimly aware of what 
had actually transpired. Willie, crushed and shattered, was out of it for 
the duration of the most gala event of the Stompers' social season. 

Mitch balled her first in the conventional position but tired of this sport 
quickly since her already gooey twat was not quite so tight as he had 
assumed it would be. He had her kneel on all fours and launched himself 
deeply into her very tight ass hole. He found especial delight in the way 
her ass-cheeks twitched as he drove his prick in to the very hilt. 

There was nothing Mitch liked better than a big ass, and the blond had 
inflamed his lust beyond all rational bounds. 

He pushed the pulsing head of his superheated cock down into the deep, soft 
crease of her cushiony buttocks, delighted with the way her pliant flesh 
gave under the pressure. He slid his cock lower, and the texture of her 
flesh changed subtly, became softer, and he felt the tickle of the first 
downy wisps of her pubic hair. 

Mitch pressed his prick against the tight, wrinkled lips of her asshole 
now--and she screamed as it dawned on her just what he planned to do. 

"No! Not in there--God, you're hurting me!" she sobbed. 

"That's what I intend to do, you pig," snarled Mitch, pushing harder and 
burying the head of his cock in the forbidden passage. 

The blond writhed and squirmed beneath him, her lush flesh quivering, and 
that only increased his pleasure. There was no danger of her getting away, 
not while he held her as a rider controls a horse--and his other hand was 
clutching an overflowing handful of the flesh of her big tits, squeezing 
hard to remind her that he was in charge and that he'd conquered her 
defenses. "Please--I'll do anything--I'll suck you off, if you want me 
to--everyone says I'm terribly good at that," she babbled, her voice choked 
with the unbearable, searing pain his cock was inflicting on her as it 
squeezed deeper into her behind. 

"That's right--you'll suck me off--you'll do everything I'll tell you to," 
Mitch gritted between clenched teeth as he shoved harder, "and you'll do 
this, too--and when I get through with you, I'll make you beg for it, 
because it's nothing compared to what I have in store for you." 

The girl sobbed as despair flooded over her. 

It was obvious that no man had ever fucked this broad up the ass before, and 
Mitch had his work cut out for him. As the achingly tight passage stretched 
the skin of his cock back painfully, tiny beads of perspiration broke out on 
his forehead. 

"Give, bitch! Open it up," growled Mitch, clutching her big tit so tightly 
that his clutching fingernails drew blood. 

She could only moan. She tried desperately to relax, knowing that the 
agonized tension of her own body was making this so painful, and that it 
wouldn't hurt nearly as much if she let him do it--but even though she told 
herself this, doing it was something else again. Her whole soul rebelled at 
the thought of letting him commit this horrible act on her. 

She squealed and cried out that she didn't like to take it that way. 

Mitch punched her and told her to shut up. The harsh tone of his voice plus 
his already demonstrated brutality convinced the girl that discretion was 
perhaps indeed the better part of valor and so she meekly submitted even 
though it hurt like hell. She had no real wish to be thrown over the nearest 
motorcycle and whipped as she was sure she would be if she denied him his 
sexual satisfaction. 

When he withdrew his still erect prick Mitch noticed that the very tip of it 
was slightly brown. He commanded the frightened girl to lick it clean. This 
was more than she could bear and she protested. 

Mitch answered by smashing her across the face, twisting his hand in her 
hair, and forcing her head down upon his penis. He beat her pretty rear end 
with a belt until he felt her hot, moist tongue complying with his request. 
She licked it clean. 

"Now suck it, you rotten whore. Suck it good or I'll bash your fuckin' head 
in," he ordered the reluctant girl. 

Tears came streaming down her face. She made little gurgling noises deep in 
her throat as she sucked at Mitch's cock. She made Mitch laugh. He laughed 
uproariously at the pitiful sight the girl presented as she sucked and cried 
and gurgled all at the same time. 

He laughed so hard that his prick went limp in her mouth. Mitch couldn't 
control the laughter as the shapely blond continued to loll the soft roll of 
Mitch's dick around and around with her tongue. He fell back on the mattress 
laughing hysterically with his aching sides and belly heaving convulsively. 
He finally managed to disengage the terrified girl's sucking mouth from his 
soft cock, but for the life of him, he couldn't stop laughing. 

The blond's eyes were pools of uncomprehending terror. Crazy Willie was bad 
enough but for Mitch's unexpected outbreak of insanity the girl was totally 
unprepared. She hadn't really minded his seeming cruelty, for she was 
honored that the handsome leader of the Stompers had selected her from among 
all of the other girls present at the party. While she didn't appreciate his 
forceful buggering of her tender rectum, it hadn't really hurt that much and 
she had even begun to enjoy it. Her tears were more for what might happen 
than from anything that had already happened. 

When Mitch had started she had become confused about what he wanted her to 
do. When his prick went soft, she didn't know whether to keep sucking it or 
what. Now she was scared. She was only fourteen even if she was 
magnificently proportioned. She wished fervently that she'd never even heard 
of Willie, Mitch, Stickman, or for that matter, any of the stinking 
Stompers. She wished she were home. 

Mitch, who was finally regaining his shattered composure, regarded the bitch 
with a baleful eye. His sudden lapse made him feel uneasy inside. He would 
have to show the little slut that he was still in command. He glanced around 
checking to see if any of his fellow club members had observed his descent 
into the shadowy realms of insanity. 

Nothing had changed. Willie lay in a heap in the same unnatural position as 
before. The other Stompers were dancing, balling, drinking, or smoking pot 
just as before. The bitch was the only one with the exception of Mitch 
himself who knew. He would have to impress upon her the prudence of keeping 
her mouth shut and forgetting the entire episode. 

Mitch looked down at the sniveling slut who shrank before his hard stare. He 
took her head between his hands with a gentleness that took her by surprise. 
She was expecting to be severely beaten. Instead he wiped her forehead with 
his fingertips, pushing her disheveled hair back from her moon-shaped, sky 
blue eyes. She couldn't believe Mitch's radical change of behavior. 

He seemed so kind and gentle that she could scarcely imagine how he had 
treated her so roughly just a few short moments ago or that he was actually 
the leader of such a motley array of animalistic motorcycle riders. 

Her heart went out to him. Stella felt that Mitch was trying desperately to 
reach out to someone to share a part of himself with someone he felt he 
could trust. She wanted him to trust her. 

Mitch had judged her correctly as a pushover for this type of approach. He'd 
played the game before. Different broads and different circumstances, but 
the exact same game. "Great Earth Mother, save the poor misguided child." He 
knew she'd fall for that. He could see it in her eyes. She was a sucker. 

Mitch flashed on his very best little boy look. He projected the very soul 
of innocence as he asked, "How'd you like to come riding with me?" 

Stella, who was by this time totally captivated, answered in the affirmative 
without a second's hesitation. "Oh, that would be nice," she said. She hoped 
secretly that the ride would lead to a long and fruitful romance. Maybe, 
just maybe, they might even get married sometime. Mitch told her to go 
outside and wait while he got the bike out and took care of some business. 
She said okay and kissed him on the cheek before heading for the side door 
that led to the street. Mitch glanced about the over-large garage which was 
still the scene of the wildest orgy he'd ever seen. 

Too bad he had to split he thought to himself as he eyed yet another 
attractive and unfamiliar chick who was making it with two of the newer 
members. She was on her knees sucking Cat Guts' tremendous penis while 
Beautiful Bob was Greeking her twitching ass like a mad dog in heat. For an 
instant Mitch thought Beautiful Bob was almost as pretty as the bitch he was 
spiking in the rear. With his smooth and practically hairless body, and his 
long, golden locks of curly hair, he looked like some Viking god. 

"Jesus Christ, I'm really cracking up," Mitch said to himself out loud. He 
felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and nearly died of fright because it had 
been so unexpected. It turned out to be Dirty Dewey Culver. 

"Want some acid, Mitch?" he asked conspiringly. "It's fukin' good," he added 
as he pressed a few tabs into Mitch's hand. "It ain't cut. It's just plain 
pure, and good as hell." 

Dirty Dewey was the club's foremost proponent of the glorious benefits of 
L.S.D. as well as the primary example of how badly it can mess people up. 

 CHAPTER THREE 

Mitch quickly located his own bike and kicked it into sputtering life. The 
cold engine coughed resentfully as Mitch backed off the spark advance and 
fiddled with the choke. The engine settled into a purring idle when Mitch 
found the right combination and he yelled for someone to open the doors. 

When the doors were at last swung open, Mitch revved-up his thundering 
engine into a crescendo of shattering sound that filled the garage. The 
Harley's twin pipes, trumpeting the energy of the powerful engine, 
overwhelmed Mitch with a feeling of well being. It was like music to his 
ears. Mitch spotted Stella waiting patiently at the end of the block. As he 
approached her he jammed on the foot brake and skidded to a fish-tailing 
halt directly in front of her. He could see she was impressed. 

"Get on!" he told her simply, without looking at her. When she was safely on 
behind him Mitch roared off in the general direction of New York City. 

Mitch and Stella avoided the turnpike and other major highways and took back 
roads screaming along at the fastest possible speed. His head was beginning 
to buzz and he realized that the acid was rapidly coming on. Stella clung 
tightly to him as Mitch leaned the swiftly charging bike hard into a series 
of torturous curves at high speed. 

As Mitch tooled the snaking motorcycle skillfully through the heavy traffic, 
he was acutely aware of the booming engine laboring jubilantly beneath him. 
The engine's powerful throbbing made him feel like a king. A prince among 
lesser men. A knight of the road. Mitch was exalted and exuberant. 

He had to stop twice for red lights before he finally reached the Interstate 
Parkway that winds along the Jersey side of the cliffs above the Hudson 
River. He wheeled his iron into the second parking area and shut down its 
galloping engine before it had even stopped rolling. 

He became aware of the girl for the first time since leaving the gang. He 
climbed off the machine and she did the same. They stood for a moment 
studying one another without speaking. Mitch was conscious of her youthful 
good looks and sex. 

Mitch said nothing but stretched his arm tamely out, encircled her plump but 
firmly formed waist, and pulled her to him playfully. He pulled her down a 
tiny path which led away from the parking area and into the woods by the 
edge of the cliff. He didn't even bother to chain his bike. 

They walked silently for about two-hundred yards along the meandering trail. 
They came upon a bare spot by the edge of the cliff which was fairly 
secluded from any prying eyes. Mitch scouted the entire area surrounding 
them for any signs of other people. They were alone. 

He returned to the clearing and seized Stella's wrists in his strong hands. 
The crushing pressure forced the over-matched girl to her knees in front of 
him. She looked up and beheld nothing but the hard eyes of the unregenerate 
motorcycle tough. His look frightened her and she wished for the second time 
that night that she had stayed at home. She ceased her efforts to struggle 
with him and started to whimper. 

"You think I'm insane, don't you?" Mitch asked her. "You think I'm insane 
and don't know what I'm doing, don't you?" he repeated. 

Stella didn't answer. She didn't know how to answer. She wasn't sure what 
Mitch wanted to hear. She wished that he would let go of her. 

Mitch let go of her wrists and began to dance around her chanting, "I'm 
insane! I'm insane! I'm insane!" and laughing like someone gone berserk. 
"Insane! Insane! Insane!" he screamed as he jumped around like a hot-footed 
Indian. 

The acid was filtering through his brain and he felt like a burst of 
sunshine on a cloudy day. The trees and bushes surrounding the clearing took 
on new and unfathomable dimensions. They seemed to bask in Mitch's own 
radiant glow as if dependent upon absorbing some life giving energy which he 
alone could supply. 

Mitch felt he was no longer insane. He felt more like God. It was good to be 
God. God is everything. Everything there is, is God. God is everything, 
Mitch thought. He turned to Stella and said, "I am everything! Everything 
there is." 

Stella had remained kneeling where Mitch had left her. She didn't know what 
else to do. She was afraid to move a solitary muscle. She hoped that Mitch 
would soon calm down and make love to her. 

She desperately wanted the feel of his prick in her cunt. She wanted to feel 
his rough hands on her rosy-pink nipples. She wanted the sensation of his 
hot tongue inside of her yearning mouth. She wanted him. She loved him. 

Stella didn't say anything but placed her hands by his crotch rubbing the 
half-hard bulge which was concealed within his tight fitting dungarees. 
Mitch felt a languid yet pulsing surge spreading through his whole body as 
he felt the slight pressure of Stella's hand caressing him. 

"Suck it," he told her. 

She fumbled with the buckle of his wide, silver-studded belt with anxious 
trembling fingers. She got it undone and hurriedly released the top clasp of 
his pants. She was clumsy in her haste to experience the warmth of his 
palpitating cock in her mouth. 

"Oh, Mitch," she moaned as her nimble fingers worked down the zipper. 

Stella could just trace the outline of Mitch's burgeoning prick head against 
the dark background of his jet black pubic hair as she lowered the elastic 
at the top of his underwear with panting expectancy. She could scarcely 
contain herself as she worked his tapered pants down over his rigid knees 
and began to lick the very tip of Mitch's beautifully erect member. 

Her Sodomite mouth slipped over it and her yielding lips sank down to the 
very root of Mitch's rampaging cock. He grabbed her working head and held it 
as Stella bobbed it back and forth over his entire length. Mitch's 
excitement was shared with Stella as she sucked furiously at his throbbing 
prick and groped passionately at his free hanging balls. Stella pushed his 
straining balls up against his body so hard that Mitch actually had to 
squirm to lessen the pressure. 

Mitch looked down upon the young blond's pumping head and thought to 
himself, "I am God! I am God! I am everything and she is nothing!" 

She felt the first surge of his creamy come splattering the back of her 
throat and slid her slobbering mouth back a tiny bit so that she wouldn't 
choke. Mitch pressed her tight up against him so she would. She didn't. 
Mitch gave out an immense quantity but she swallowed it all greedily. 
Mitch's body relaxed as she licked the last remnants of semen from the 
dripping tip of his penis. He looked down upon Stella and smiled. 

"How proud he looks," she thought as she looked up into Mitch's face and 
wiped the last remaining traces of his juice from the moist corners of her 
mouth. Mitch was still standing before her with his legs slightly spread and 
firmly planted on the leafy ground. His limp dick hung just a fraction above 
her adoring face. 

"You're a good little cock-sucker, but otherwise you're nothing at all," he 
said to the kneeling girl. "You're nothing! Nothing at all!" he told her 
with a dispassionate tone of voice. "Say it," he ordered her. "Say 'I'm 
nothing and you are God.'." 

Stella was scared again. "You're crazy," she said. 

Mitch's right hand exploded across her face and sent her sprawling across 
the dirt. 

"Admit it, you filthy slut, admit it now or I'll kill you!" Mitch screamed 
at her in a towering rage. "Say I'm God and you're nothing! Get down and 
worship me or I'll kill you here and now. I mean it. I ain't bullshitting." 

Stella started to speak but Mitch interrupted her before she could say 
anything. 

"Crawl to me, you bitch. Crawl to me and kiss my feet!" 

Stella knew he meant it by the tone of his voice. She flopped over onto her 
knees and crawled across the dirt and leaves. She was down on all fours and 
the little twigs and rocks cut into her knees and the palms of her hands as 
she crawled forward. She stooped down in front of Mitch and began to lick 
his feet. She was holding his ankles and crying as she said what he wanted 
to hear. 

"You are God!" she said. "You are God and I am nothing. I worship you!" 

Mitch's eyes took in the gratifying sight of the groveling girl at his feet 
and he knew that what she said was true even if he had had to force her to 
say it. He felt the acid coursing through his system and he felt the power 
of being God. He hoped the magnificent feeling would last forever. 

'Take off your clothes!" he commanded the sniveling girl. 

Stella stood up and began to strip. She pulled her sweater over her blond, 
tussled hair revealing her well formed breasts in all of their undraped and 
free hanging glory. She wore no bra and the unbridled beauty of her stunning 
twin orbs filled Mitch with lust. 

The lush blond shimmied out of her contoured slacks while her back was 
turned towards Mitch's dilated eyes, showing him the crescent cleavage of 
her derriere in lurid detail as she bent over to pull the tight pants over 
her feet. The temptation was too much for Mitch to withstand and he planted 
his foot on her warm ass and sent her reeling awkwardly to the cold, hard 
ground. 

Mitch's brutal kick had caught the unsuspecting Stella by surprise and had 
not allowed her to get her hands up in time to break the fall. She landed 
squarely on her unprotected face on the rough ground. 

A sharp cry escaped her throat as she lay in terror of what he might do 
next. She realized belatedly that Mitch was indeed insane. He was nutty as a 
fruitcake and she was hopelessly alone out in the shadowy woods with him. 
She knew she was utterly defenseless. Stella decided to play along with him 
in the hopes that he would eventually return to normal and take her home. 

Mitch, meanwhile, was drinking in her luscious, naked body. He knew she'd do 
whatever he wanted. "Stand up!" he ordered, "Come over here!" He noticed the 
way her titties bounced as she approached him in the moonlight. 

"Pull the belt out of my pants and hand it to me!" he said. Stella did as he 
directed. He took her roughly by the arm and led her to a nearby tree. 
"Stick out your hands and put 'em around the tree!" 

The tree was not overly thick and when Mitch had tied her securely with the 
belt Stella's body was still a few inches from the rough bark of the tree 
trunk. Mitch disappeared into the surrounding woods leaving the hapless girl 
to speculate as to what might lie in store for her. 

He returned after a few moments armed with switches and sticks of varying 
diameters and stiffnesses. He took painstaking care to show these 
instruments to the petrified girl and explained in vivid detail how each one 
could be best applied. Stella begged him to let her go and threatened to 
scream if he didn't. 

Mitch stuffed the girl's own undies into her mouth so that she couldn't cry 
out. Stella struggled vainly against the binding belt and tears were 
streaming from her eyes. Her muffled sobs could be heard in spite of the 
frilly panties Mitch had crammed into her mouth. 

Mitch's prick was rock hard and felt three times its normal size. He could 
still feel the acid pounding through his veins, but decided to drop another 
tab for insurance before he got down to the happy business of avenging 
himself on Stella's body. He almost couldn't wait to begin. 

Mitch walked over to his crumpled pants and rummaged around until his 
groping fingers contacted the tiny tabs of mind expanding chemicals. He 
swallowed the pill and returned his attention to the girl. Stella watched 
his every movement with horror-filled fascination. 

Stroking his erect prick Mitch picked up a thin switch from among the 
half-dozen or so he'd collected earlier. 

"You're gonna dig the shit out'a this," he told the squirming girl. He 
walked slowly around the bound and gagged girl until he was positioned at 
her soft looking ass. 

Still masturbating lightly he took the switch and applied it ever so gently 
to Stella's ripe buttocks. He slowly accelerated the tempo stroking her 
twitching behind harder and harder until she was jumping and dancing around 
trying desperately to avoid the stinging switch as she fought against the 
leather tether which held her strapped to the tree. Mitch stopped pulling 
his own prick and reached down and picked up a stick. He rammed it up and 
into her ass hole. Stella leapt right up into the air, scraping her pussy 
terribly on the scaly bark of the tree. 

She tried to plead with him to let her go but the gag prevented even her 
loudest screams of agony from being heard more than a few yards distant. She 
was in panic as Mitch twisted the three-inch thick stick deeper and deeper 
into her inflamed anus. Searing pain flashed through bowels and intestines 
as she was forced to accommodate the branch. It plunged deep inside her. She 
screamed and screamed into her gag. 

Mitch worked the stick with increasing gusto as he neared climax. Mitch 
gloated at the sight of the bleating girl as her body contorted in spasms of 
intense pain. 

Just before reaching his climax, Mitch pulled the stick and penetrated the 
unfortunate girl's bleeding asshole all the way up to his straining balls. 
Stella could feel the warm liquid being discharged into her in spite of the 
intense pain. She felt it overflow and begin to spill. She felt the hot 
sperm trickling out and running down her thighs. 

She was thankful it was over. Although she was still suffering immensely 
from the whipping and the rough handling of her bung-hole, she was happy 
that she'd been able to give Mitch a climax. Her own unhandled pussy had 
been disgorging girl-goo simultaneously with Mitch's thrusting attack and 
climax. She decided that it hadn't been all bad after all. 

Mitch withdrew and walked around to face Stella. He was smiling as he said, 
"You liked that, didn't you? You'd like to do it again, wouldn't you?. You 
stupid bitch. I can do whatever I want with you. Yeah, I can do whatever I 
want with you and you'll eat it up, won't ya?" He turned and sat down on a 
rock a few feet from where she was tied and gagged. 

Stella hung her head and didn't look at him. She couldn't, for she knew he 
was right. 

She would let him do it all over again if he wanted. She'd do anything for 
him. She'd fuck, suck, kiss his ass or take beatings from him. She loved 
him. Her ass was covered with welts and burned like fire. Her ripped ass 
hole would be sore for weeks and yet she still wanted him. She wanted him 
now more than ever. She cried quietly as she knelt and hugged the base of 
the tree. 

Mitch sat there for a long while watching her. The second tab of acid was 
coming on in giant waves which were giving him headaches such as he'd never 
experienced before. 

Mitch stalked up behind her and inserted the bottom part of his hand into 
her cunt and his thumb into her burning rectum. As she tried to pull away, 
she succeeded only in smashing her belly hard up against the tree trunk. 

Rubbing his thumb and forefinger together, Mitch was sending thrills of 
erotic pleasure throughout her tingling body. From deep within her innermost 
recesses the rubbing pressure of Mitch's fingers brought messages of 
rapturous delights through her body. She couldn't control herself. She 
struggled instinctively for a freedom that she knew was hopelessly beyond 
her reach. The belt binding her wrists cut painfully deeper as she tried to 
escape the inescapable. 

Stella couldn't bring herself to believe that all this was actually 
happening. Her knees began to buckle under her as Mitch massaged her 
tenderest parts, transmitting waves of passion through her. She could never 
escape herself. 

Mitch sensed what was happening and removed his hand. Stella's ravenous body 
sagged as if Mitch had pulled a plug that was her only source of current. He 
took the dirty gag from her mouth and told her to kneel. 

"I'm going to piss in your mouth. Open it wide or I'll bust your stupid 
teeth down your mother fuckin' throat." 

She looked up at him from her kneeling position and obediently opened her 
mouth. Mitch stood over her waiting patiently for the piss to come. 

It splashed over her teeth and into her mouth and nose. She had trouble 
swallowing the liquid which Mitch supplied in a huge quantity and she almost 
vomited before she managed to get it all down. 

"Please Mitch, let me go. I've done what you wanted. Please, oh please. 
Can't you let me go?" she pleaded with him as soon as her throat was clear 
again. 

Without saying a word, Mitch released the binding belt and freed the 
wretched girl. "Oh thank you, thank you," Stella wailed as she crumpled in a 
heap at his feet. 

"How'd you like to fuck?" Mitch asked her casually, as if nothing had 
happened. Rolling over onto her back, Stella stretched her arms out towards 
him. She wanted him. She wanted him to fuck the shit out of her. She was 
hot. Mitch searched around until he located the very same stick he'd used 
earlier on her ass hole. "Use this on yourself until I'm ready," he 
commanded. 

Stella reached for the stick eagerly and without hesitation. She knew that 
Mitch was using her but she didn't care. She took the stick and inserted it 
quickly into her love box with one hand while she gently massaged her 
heaving tits with the other. 

Mitch made no move towards her but watched as Stella thrashed about on the 
dirt and leaves as if she were rollicking with a lover. 

"Get on your knees!" he ordered, and Stella quickly turned over onto her 
knees. As she crouched she worked the stick vigorously plunging it in and 
out of her cunt with ever increasing rapidity. Mitch took up a switch and 
slapped it across her gyrating ass. 

Stella moaned and her ass-cheeks twitched as the switch bit into her flesh 
but she made no other protest. Mitch beat her harder and harder as Stella 
worked the stick shoving it deeper and deeper into her moist twat. Beside 
herself with passion she hardly felt the stinging switch and wanted only the 
feel of a real prick inside her lusting pussy. 

Mitch stopped whipping and ordered her to turn over. Stella flopped eagerly 
onto her back still working the stick. Removing her hand from the stick, 
Mitch watched the girl as she writhed and twisted in the height of her 
passion. She was a pathetic sight as she lay quivering and moaning with the 
impaling stick protruding from her love-hole. Her sensuous lips were parted 
slightly and her mouth was watering as she awaited him. 

The acid was in full force as Mitch finally lay down atop her panting body. 
He teased her callously by moving the stick gently and lightly when he knew 
that what she wanted was to be torn apart by it. He reamed her once with a 
savage plunge and then removed the stick. He pushed it into her mouth. 

Mitch teased the deliriously ravenous girl by brushing the head of his 
bulging prick softly up against her fiery cunt. He didn't put it in until 
his own arousal got the better of him and then he plunged his throbbing 
prick in up to the very hilt. 

As the cock sank deep into her, Stella was besides herself with passion. A 
feeling of oneness flooded over her. Mitch's powerful soul overwhelmed and 
submerged her. The stick she'd been sucking dropped unnoticed to the ground 
as she turned her head to the side moaning. 

Stella wasn't sure whether or not Mitch would like to kiss her. Not thinking 
that he would after all that had happened she buried her face in his chest 
and nibbled at his nipple. She fastened her mouth and tongue around it as if 
she were a weaning baby. She wrapped her legs around his back as he fucked 
her. She met his downward thrusts by straining her body upward to meet him. 

Mitch was moving rapidly, trying to hurtle his fire-brand up into her 
innermost parts. He wanted to rupture the guts of the dirty bitch! This 
filthy whore who was, by her own admission, nothing; nothing at all! His 
hands about her throat, he began to squeeze. 

Stella was reacting wildly, trying desperately with all of her strength to 
twist Mitch from his perch. Her arms flailed about in a last unreasoned 
attempt to free herself from him. Her stiffening body was contorting into 
strange and unnatural positions as she tried to separate herself from the 
maniac who was crushing her very life out She had a massive orgasm. 

After he'd spent himself into her quivering snatch, Mitch stood and brushed 
the sweat from his forehead. "Come on, get up and I'll take you home," he 
said. The blond didn't move. Her head was lying at a strange angle to the 
rest of her sprawled body. "Get up, you dumb whore!" Mitch repeated, 
irritated by her lack of response. 

He kicked her with his unshod foot but she still didn't stir. "Get up, get 
up, you mother fucker, or I'll really kick the shit out of you!" Mitch 
screamed, his anger mounting. 

Stella's face was turned away from Mitch and she continued to lay stock 
still. Not a muscle moved as Mitch grabbed the girl by the hair and yanked 
her head around so he could smash her face. He recoiled in horror. Inside 
her frozen face, her eyes were bulging from their sockets unseeing and wide 
open. Stella was dead. She'd made good her escape in the only way she could. 
She died. 

Swirling confusion beset Mitch from every crevice of his reeling, dope 
crazed mind. "What should I do? What should I do? The rotten bitch. The 
dirty, stinkin' rotten, lousy bitch. What'd she have to go and do that for? 
The dirty bitch!" was all Mitch could think of. Over and over the same 
thoughts tumbled through his brain. 

Mitch finally decided that he should try to get rid of the body. Since he 
didn't have a shovel he figured he would just cover her over with some 
leaves or something. Dragging the naked body off into some bushes he covered 
her as best he could with whatever was lying near to hand. 

When he was finished, he dressed quickly and began to make his way back to 
the spot where he'd left the bike. "How many centuries ago was that?" he 
wondered as he staggered towards the parking area. He heard voices off to 
his right whispering in the darkness. 

"Damn! Damn! I can't let them see me!" Mitch thought silently to himself. 
Like a streak of lightning, Mitch flashed that people might decide to play 
their games in the bushes where he'd stashed Stella's cold and lifeless 
body. He decided to move it. 

But where? Where do you stash a dead whore's body in a place as full of 
people as this one? He asked himself over and over as he uncovered the body 
and wondered why. What was he going to do with it? 

He dragged Stella's body to the edge of the cliff and not knowing what else 
to do unceremoniously threw her off into the yawning void. Mitch listened 
intently but did not hear her land. After waiting a few minutes he buried 
her clothing as best he could and hurriedly returned to the parking area. As 
far as he knew he hadn't been seen but Mitch knew that his bike with its 
long, lean lines and shining chrome was sure to be noticed and remembered by 
anybody who happened to be passing by. 

"Well, it's too late now!" he thought as he tromped down on the kick starter 
and sent the gleaming stroker into coughing, spitting life. 

The engine was cold and a shiver went all through Mitch's perspiring body as 
he worked the choke to regulate the flow of gasoline into the starving beast 
idling roughly beneath him. As the engine settled down Mitch cranked the 
throttle open and flew out onto the deserted highway. He began to laugh 
softly to himself as the wind caught in his hair and lifted his spirits. 

Although the acid was still with him, Mitch felt clean and fresh as he 
piloted his machine down the empty parkway zig-zagging erratically from lane 
to lane with sudden bursts of exuberant speed. He began to laugh harder, 
harder and harder until it was all he could do just to stay on the bike and 
keep it on the road. He let the motorcycle have its head and took off into 
the clouds. Mitch was flat out in fourth gear as the sun peeked over the 
tree lined horizon. He felt reborn and free. 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

"Where'ya been, Mitch?" It was Dan, the club's vice president, speaking in a 
soft voice which was strangely incongruous to his grubby appearance. 

"Out riding," answered Mitch curtly not really wishing to engage in 
conversation. 

"Man, ya missed quite a party," Dan said excitedly. "After ya left, things 
got really hot. We hadda take a bunch of people to the hospital. The bash 
broke out over some stupid hot-dog rider's broad be'n raped. What a riot it 
was. Crazy Willie got his nose busted all over his dumb lookin' face and 
Tonto caught a piece of chain in his eyes from some dirty mother fucker who 
was help'n the hot-dogger. We fixed them mother fuckers good though. They're 
just barely alive and their broads were turned out. One of 'em is still 
here. Poor fuckin' Tonto never knew what hit him. He wasn't even in the 
action. He was really stoned and didn't know what was goin' down until the 
other jerk hit 'em. We took him and Willie to the hospital but Tonto 
couldn't see nutt'in and the doctor said he was in bad shape. He might be 
blind." 

Mitch gave Dan a cold look and turned towards the street without uttering a 
single word. As Dan gaped after him Mitch walked through the double doors 
and across the street to the dilapidated diner that served the Stompers as a 
feeding place and hang out. 

Mitch owed Tonto a lot. When he'd first met Tonto Mitch had been a mere 
prospect for membership in the Stompers. It had been Tonto who'd sponsored 
Mitch's induction into their midst as a full fledged member and it was Tonto 
who'd taught him the rules and regulations of an outlaw motorcyclist's mode 
of life. 

When he'd first met him, they'd both taken an immediate dislike for one 
another. After two or three brutal fights they had become the best of 
friends. Tonto even invited Mitch to come live with him. Tonto was shacking 
up with three lesbians who welcomed Mitch enthusiastically. 

Patti, the butch chick of the threesome, was a knockout redhead who was also 
a supreme sadist and an abandoned exhibitionist. Patti had one of the other 
broads, a fat, juicy blond whose name was Joyce, parade around the apartment 
in a sort of bottomless mini-maid's uniform. Patti had trained the blond to 
be her personal slave but was fond of giving her to other people, male or 
female, for an evening's entertainment. 

Alisha, the third member of the odd ball trio, was an unabashed bisexual 
nymphomaniac who didn't seem to care how she was used or treated. During 
Mitch's stay, he'd never been able to figure whether Alisha preferred making 
it with men or women. Her devotion to Patti was obvious and Alisha would 
often participate in sexual games that she didn't like just to please her. 
Patti didn't whip her nearly as often as she whipped Joyce. 

Joyce's constantly exposed, meaty buttocks were covered with long, thin red 
marks from the time of Mitch's first arrival until the time he had forced 
Patti to blow him and cut his stay in the beautiful six room flat. It seemed 
as if Joyce was whipped almost every night. People that Mitch had never even 
seen before would appear at the apartment at night just to whip her. 

Patti and Alisha both had well paying jobs while Joyce stayed at home to do 
the housework. Tonto and Mitch both took delight in the way Joyce moved 
around the house half naked performing her chores. Patti had given Joyce 
strict commands that the boys were honored guests and should be given 
everything they desired. They desired quite a bit. 

Joyce always attended them in the bathroom and always licked the last few 
drops off their dripping cocks after they pissed or wiped their asses, 
sometimes with her tongue, after they shit. Mitch and Tonto would get a blow 
job almost every time they went to the bathroom. Whenever they took one of 
their extremely infrequent baths or showers Joyce was there to towel them 
dry. Joyce served them humbly and happily. 

Being by nature generous, Mitch and Tonto would often have some of their 
fellow Stompers up for fun and games with Joyce. She once was forced to give 
nine blow jobs in a row while masturbating with the bathroom plunger and 
being whipped mercilessly across her blubbery, upturned rear. Mitch had to 
admit that Joyce was a good slave as slaves went, loyal, obedient, and more 
than willing. After a beating or a few strokes of the whip she'd do 
anything. 

Whenever Patti would enter the apartment Joyce would fall to her fat knees 
with her head bowed waiting for Patti to acknowledge her existence. Now and 
then Patti would leave Joyce in this position for a whole evening until she 
needed her for some domestic or sexual function. Often she would lead the 
docile girl into the master bedroom, which was fitted out with some very 
clever devices, for a round of torture as soon as Patti came through the 
door. 

Many times, Joyce was so badly mauled that she couldn't perform her duties 
that night or the following day. Before Patti had mastered the finer points 
of sadistic torture Joyce had had to be sent to the hospital on a fairly 
regular basis. The doctors were always suspicious about the causes of her 
injuries but Joyce would be adamant in her outrageous lies as to how her 
injuries were inflicted. 

In the three months that Mitch lived with them, Joyce had to go to the 
hospital only once and that was to remove a quantity of sliced peaches which 
had become lodged in her vagina. The peaches defied all of their ingenious 
efforts to remove them at home and Joyce was finally trundled off to the 
hospital. Patti enjoyed it immensely when Joyce related the hospital staff's 
reactions and made Joyce repeat the story for weeks whenever she had 
company. 

Patti was also fond of putting on shows and throwing orgastic parties. The 
huge master bedroom was always a focal point at these affairs. Although off 
limits to Mitch and Tonto during Patti's absences they'd both been inside 
many times. The first time he'd seen the inside of the room Mitch had been 
reminded of a movie he'd once seen in one of those Forty-Second Street movie 
theaters. 

The movie had been about Medieval times with knights and castles and naked 
girls being tortured by half naked men with hoods over their heads. All of 
the castles had torture chambers where horrible things were done to the 
prisoners, mostly female. 

Patti's bedroom had been carefully constructed to resemble one of the bad 
king's torture chambers. The walls were covered with slimy looking bricks 
which everyone knew were plastic but which appeared very authentic. There 
were chains and iron loops hanging at various points around the room and 
some sort of weird looking table with ropes at either end. The room was very 
large, the biggest room in the flat, even bigger than the more than ample 
living room and was kept very dark. Mitch wasn't sure to this day if it had 
windows or not. 

Somehow the room always felt damp, and clammy. The atmosphere was truly 
oppressive, stifling even to Mitch and Tonto. Perhaps the most outstanding 
attribute of the dank room was the oversize, four-poster bed which dominated 
the entire scene. The massive wooden posts had chains attached to them which 
led to what could only be thought of as wrist and ankle cuffs. The chains 
were very thick and strong. 

Suspended from the ceiling, directly above the ornate bed, were more of the 
same kinds of chains along with several ropes. Some of the ropes were 
attached to large pulleys and dangled menacingly in the gloomy room. The 
only lighting was provided by a few electric torches affixed to elaborately 
adorned holders set on the gruesome walls and a few large black candles 
arranged strategically about the morbid chamber. No one actually slept in 
the eerie room except Joyce who sometimes was locked in as punishment. Mitch 
had been there less than a week when Patti threw the first of a long series 
of parties, if they could be called that. Mitch had no idea of what to 
expect other than what Tonto had told him, "Patti's gigs are really weird, 
man, like far out, mother fuckin' weird." But as the guests arrived Mitch 
knew that it would be interesting if nothing else. 

The guests, mostly female, ranged from teenagers to people pushing the far 
side of middle age. A milling group of five were the first guests to arrive, 
four broads and a gigantic black man who had a shaved head that seemed to 
have an ominous gleam as it reflected the overhead lights. He had small 
pig's eyes and a totally repulsive appearance. Patti ushered them into the 
bedroom closet to the room of the devilish devices and shut the door. 

Another group followed close on the heels of the first and disappeared into 
the same bedroom. This group, Mitch noticed with satisfaction, was younger 
and at least two of the girls were exceedingly beautiful. People were 
arriving now every few moments and all were vanishing into one or the other 
of the two bedrooms. The master bedroom remained unoccupied except for Joyce 
who was apparently preparing it for something. Mitch kept asking Tonto what 
was happening but Tonto merely evaded Mitch's queries. 

"Come join the party," Patti's jocular voice called out from the hallway 
separating the bedrooms. "Everyone's here now who's coming!" she added as an 
afterthought. 

Mitch waited until Tonto had laboriously risen before he attempted to stand. 
When Mitch finally struggled to his feet, a tremendous rush from the wine 
and pot nearly caused him to fall back upon the overstuffed couch. Tonto 
stretched out a helping hand to steady him but Mitch shrugged it off. 

"I'm okay," he told Tonto. "Let's go!" 

Tonto led the way down the short hall to one of the bedrooms and flung open 
the door. Mitch's eyeballs nearly leaped from their sockets. Everyone in the 
room was stark naked. 

Everyone was stripped and there were a minimum of twenty people standing 
around in small cliques, talking quietly. As his wandering eyes traversed 
the crowded room, they suddenly were filled with a stunningly beautiful 
Negress who towered magnificently above all of the other females in the 
room. 

She was at least six foot tall with a tawny, dusky, and well endowed body 
which she carried haughtily as she glided gracefully from group to group, 
overshadowing each one with her beauty. She looked like a Greek statue with 
her iridescent black skin reflecting the shimmering torchlight. A tiny patch 
of jet black hair curled enticingly about her lovely pussy in a small mound 
of love. Mitch's eyes had become riveted to the dark beauty and he'd just 
made up his mind to approach her when Patti's voice interrupted him. 

Mitch allowed his mind to linger for a few minutes more on the rapturous 
delights of the tantalizing, Amazon spade chick before he turned to face 
Patti. Her words sounded strangely muffled as she clapped her hands and 
called for the attention of the guests. As she waited patiently for the 
guests to come to order, Mitch speculated as to what it might be like to 
partake of the delectable fruits which the black beauty so obviously had to 
offer. 

He wanted very badly to cop some of her more than luscious nookie. 

As more and more guests became aware of Patti's intention to speak an 
expectant hush fell self-consciously over the assembly as they waited for 
their high priestess to speak. 

"Now you all know why you were invited here," Patti told them, "so what do 
you say, shall we get it on?" 

Nobody stirred and Mitch wondered what, exactly, was supposed to happen. 

"Don't worry about noise, this room is sound-proof and the neighbors can't 
hear a thing," added Patti as if bewildered by her guests' lack of activity. 

A loud slap was the next sound that Mitch heard, followed by a girl's 
whining, pleading voice. "Please don't do that. Oh, please don't do that. 
I'll do anything, anything you say, but please don't tie me up there." 

Mitch stood on tip toes in order to see what was happening but his view was 
blocked by a ring of people surrounding the bed. He heard a loud scream. 

Suddenly, he saw a very lovely girl being hoisted up into the air by her 
wrists which had been securely fastened to two of the ropes which were 
attached to pulleys affixed to the ceiling directly above the bed. The thick 
ropes swayed and twisted violently as the victim struggled like a fear 
crazed animal to free herself from the cutting fetters as they hauled her 
painfully upward. Mitch couldn't see who was working the ropes as the girl's 
body was jerked ever higher over the heads of the jeering onlookers in small 
and excruciating stages. 

Tonto, still standing next to Mitch, poked him playfully in the ribs with a 
mischievous grin and beckoned for Mitch to follow him as he meandered around 
the room. Several of the girls were now hung by the various chains, ropes, 
and iron rings which were scattered profusely and conveniently about the 
chamber. Screams of pain filled the air as imprisoned females were whipped 
and abused. Many girls were being forced to submit to such great sex acts 
that Mitch and Tonto knew that they could do anything within the scope of 
their imaginations and get away with it. 

As they neared the center of the room Mitch noticed that the feet of the 
girl who'd been left dangling on the ropes didn't touch the velvety black 
bedspread which covered the surface of the bed. Her feet were a good four or 
five inches above the bedclothes. Her pretty face had a glazed, dreamy 
appearance that Mitch could just barely make out in the translucent 
semi-darkness of the room. 

The brawny bald headed black, who'd made such a deep impression on Mitch 
when he had first arrived at the apartment, had his immense black hand 
thrust volcanically up into the hanging girl's distended pussy. With his 
free hand, the giant spade was spanking her across her creamy-white bottom 
with a leather riding whip, raising long thin strips of crimson red wherever 
it made contact with the flinching flesh of her voluptuous asscheeks. 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

Tonto was fondling the ripe, full breasts of a girl who was pinioned in one 
of the iron neck rings which lined the walls. She was big-boned and her face 
was oval with thick, red lips that were slightly parted. Her tongue would 
flick sensuously between them whenever Tonto would squeeze her rosy-pink 
nipples between his rough fingers. In addition to the neck ring, her chubby 
arms were captured in another ring which protruded about two and a half feet 
above her head. Long, swirling blond hair ran down to the small of her back 
and a few strayed strands curled delectably about her heaving breasts. 

With her head slightly inclined, the obliging blond watched Tonto's fingers 
as they massaged her taut nipples. Her body swayed rhythmically as Tonto 
teased her cunt-lips by brushing up against her soft and yielding hips with 
the very tip of his jutting prick. 

The big blond was moaning softly as Tonto, still massaging her breasts, 
rammed his spear into her juicy cunt. He had her plump ass pinned to the 
wall as he shoved up against her rounded tummy with ever increasing 
determination. He meant to pierce her innermost recesses with his blunt 
blade. She tried to push herself up to meet him but her knees began to 
buckle and she would have slid to the floor if it hadn't been for the rings 
which held her painfully and securely in place. Mitch could hear the 
squishing sounds as Tonto's rampaging member slid in and out of the blond's 
honey-sweet love box. 

"Join the party, baby!" said Patti as she led a meek and tender young 
brunette past Mitch and the grappling couple he was watching. 

Mitch felt a warm hand on his erect cock. 

"How'd you like to whip somebody, honey?" It was the gorgeous spade chick 
whom Mitch had noticed earlier in the evening. "Come over here with me!" she 
said as she pulled Mitch along by his prick. 

"This is Terry and my name is Gloria," she said as she placed her supple 
black arm protectively about the well-knit shoulders of a tiny white girl 
while still maintaining her grasp of Mitch's rock-hard dick. "Terry wants 
you to whip her while she's eating me out," said Gloria as she relinquished 
her grasp of Mitch's cock somewhat reluctantly. 

"Will you whip me?" asked Terry in a soft voice. "Whip me all over while I 
make love to Gloria and afterwards, if you whip me hard enough. I'll do 
whatever you'd like to please you." 

Gloria was already stretched out with her well formed and muscular legs 
spread widely apart waiting eagerly for Terry to begin. Terry gave Mitch a 
raw hide strap and told him to use it unsparingly no matter what she might 
later say. He wasn't to stop until ordered to do so by Gloria. 

Gloria had been unable to wait and had started to masturbate before Terry 
had bent down between her shapely thighs. Terry knelt and fastened her mouth 
immediately to Gloria's gaping pussy as the black's tapered fingers 
continued to massage the top of her clit directly above Terry's hot and 
probing tongue. 

Mitch employed the strap on Terry's exquisite rump as soon as Terry's tongue 
had made contact with Gloria's lusting snatch. He brandished the stiff 
cowhide expertly up and down Terry's quaking body and tried repeatedly to 
make the leather thong touch the area of flesh where the cracks of her pussy 
and asshole almost met. Each time he succeeded, Terry's lissome body would 
arch upward from the waist down while her head would literally burrow into 
Gloria's spacious thighs. 

Gloria grabbed her knees and pulled them back exposing her twat more readily 
to Terry's plunging tongue which was sending waves of rippling pleasure 
through the sweat sheened body of the reclining Negress. The tip of the 
raw-hide bit into the small, delicate circle of flesh enclosing Terry's anus 
making her ass twitch with sublime pleasure-pain arousing Mitch to an almost 
uncontrollable height of heated passion. 

Panting loudly, Gloria was kneading the paps on her heaving breasts as she 
heaped verbal abuse on the girl who was eating her. 

Gloria called Terry every vile name that came into her mind. Terry seemed to 
thrive on abuse and her tongue sought Gloria's love juice with insatiable 
greed. 

Mitch, working the lash vigorously over Terry's creamy flesh, wished the 
nigger bitch would hurry up and come so that he could get next to some 
pussy. Although the black woman was far more beautiful Mitch wanted Terry's 
poontang much more. He knew it was her he had to have and he couldn't wait. 

Terry's fingers were manipulating her own fur-box and her tongue was buried 
as far as it could go when Gloria finally released a long sigh of contented 
climax. Terry's mouth drank from Gloria's running snatch for several minutes 
before Gloria pulled the sucking girl's head up onto her belly. 

'Turn over!" Gloria ordered the prostrate girl. Mitch had stopped whipping 
her and was waiting patiently for his promised turn with her. "Whip her 
pussy! Whip the shit out of it! Whip it hard!" Gloria fairly screamed at 
Mitch as she twisted the head of the girl so that the back of her head was 
nestled on her still wet cunt. Terry had to turn her body upward or break 
her neck. 

The raw hide sliced through the air with a shrill whistling noise and landed 
right on the intended spot. Terry gasped and cried out as Mitch bought the 
grim strap down on its tender target again and again. Gloria was holding the 
wriggling girl by the hair as Mitch worked the devastating lash with deadly 
precision. 

"Whip her titties! Whip her titties!" called Gloria above the wailing of the 
sorry girl. "Whip her nipples! Get her nipples! Hit her hard! Harder! 
Harder!" Gloria yelled as she pulled the hysterical girl's hair with gleeful 
callousness. 

The leather strap was flying through the air as rapidly as Mitch could 
maneuver it. It fell time and time again across the tits, belly, and pussy 
of the tormented girl as she lay captive between the strong legs of her 
mistress. She wailed and screamed as the stinging whip tore into her 
lacerated flesh. 

Mitch, his arm weary from the exertion of the prolonged flogging, finally 
allowed the raw hide strap to drop from his hand. He fell heavily atop the 
breathless, masturbating girl who seemed to have an insatiable desire for 
sexual encounters. Terry was still lying, face up, between the luxurious 
legs of the tawny Negress. She grabbed Mitch's cock and stuffed it quickly 
into her devouring pussy. 

"Don't move," Terry whispered into his ear as soon as she had saddled him 
upon her. "I'll take care of everything." 

Mitch felt her feverish pussy slowly tightening around his excited cock as 
Terry nibbled his ear and licked his neck with a relishing tongue. She very 
obviously had complete muscle control over the fiery furnace of her 
femininity and she was using it to hold fast to Mitch's cock. She used the 
muscles expertly driving Mitch to the very edge of ecstasy with her clinging 
up and down motion and her rippling abdomen. 

When Mitch looked up over Terry's head he had an unobstructed view of 
Gloria's heaving stomach and breasts. He plunged his tongue into her still 
damp nookie after pushing Terry's head to one side. Gloria raised her legs 
slightly to allow Mitch easier access to her hairy honey dew. 

When he came into her tight twat Terry groaned with delight and pushed him 
gently from his perch. She straddled Gloria's face and held her torn and 
bleeding puss-lips apart while Gloria's searching mouth sought Mitch's hot 
sperm from its resting place within Terry's body. 

When Gloria had obtained a fair amount of the scum within the lush folds of 
Terry's pungent love-hole, the two girls kissed passing the full-flavored 
fluid back and forth between them until each had swallowed some. They sat 
together in a lover's lingering embrace ignoring Mitch completely while 
their eager hands explored their own bodies and their mouths merged with 
renewed passion. Mitch watched the spectacle for a few moments, then resumed 
his wanderings. 

Even Mitch was shocked by the sights which confronted him at every turn. 
Naked bodies were everywhere engaged in all manner of sexual deviation. 
Girls were being whipped, beaten, tortured and forced to perform all sorts 
of sexual acts. 

The noise of suffering, pleading voices could be heard throughout the entire 
length and breadth of the sweltering room. The grossest carnality was 
everywhere evident and every now and then a shrill scream would split the 
air. The shrieking cries would usually be followed by the sadistic laughter 
and harsh voices of butch-type females barking orders or berating their 
unfortunate comrades. 

"Hey, Mitch!" It was Tonto. He was waving his hands frantically in an effort 
to distract Mitch's attention from a couple in front of him. 

The couple, a big butch broad who had an enormous dildo attached to her 
bushy twat and a slim, frail looking girl who was bent over in front of her, 
seemed oblivious to their surroundings as the butch prepared to skewer the 
slim one's ass hole with the huge dildo. She held the stooped girl's thighs 
in her mammoth hands as she made a brutal stab directly on target. The 
spiked girl arched her back and tried to straighten up but the butch held 
her firmly in place as the dildo tore up and into her tiny bunghole. 

"Did ya ever see anything like this?" Tonto said, sweeping his hand in a 
wide arc to indicate the panorama of sex which surrounded them completely. 
"Man, it's hard to believe that they do this almost every weekend," he said 
as he latched onto a naked broad who was chained to the wall. "What a gas! 
We can do anything we want to at least a dozen broads around here. What a 
gas!" Tonto was getting excited as he tormented the girl who was chained by 
pinching her nipples. 

Tonto began punching another girl who had tried to scurry by him. "What a 
gas! what a gas!" Tonto said over and over as he smashed his balled fist 
into the girl's soft under-belly causing her to double over in 
breathlessness. He sent her sprawling across the floor with a rabbit-punch 
on the neck and laughed merrily at the sorry sight she presented as she 
picked herself up and hurriedly sought to disappear in the crowd. "Quite a 
party!" Tonto told Mitch. "Quite a party!" he reaffirmed as he returned to 
the girl chained to the wall. 

As the long night wore on Mitch had several more encounters and got his 
rocks off repeatedly by alternately whipping then fucking the shit out of 
one broad after another. He made them do everything he wanted. At one point 
he was lying on the floor with one nice piece of fluff sucking madly away at 
his prick while he caressed and fondled two others. He made them change 
positions and would have one of the girls hold his cock while another sucked 
the tip and the other licked his balls. They kissed and licked his whole 
body. They were a good team. 

 CHAPTER SIX 

Mitch's next shack up was with Cathy, where she lived with her sister, 
Trixie. 

Trixie was a hooker and about two or three years older than Cathy. She had a 
good body and was very adept at the art of pleasing men. From the looks of 
the clothes in her closet Trixie was doing very well in her chosen 
profession. Mitch had been to bed with her a couple of times and he knew 
that she'd be able to bring in the bacon for a long time to come. Trixie had 
some real talent. 

The first night that Mitch had slept over in Trixie's flat, Trixie had 
clambered eagerly right into the bed with them. This was when Mitch had 
first met Cathy and had had no other place to live. The three of them had 
slept together every night for a whole week before Mitch had decided to 
leave because the girls wouldn't let him sleep. He always slept, or tried to 
sleep, between them but somehow he never got any shuteye! 

The two sisters looked very much alike and they were both exhibitionist 
nymphomaniacs. They had no qualms about engaging in dual sexual 
relationships. That first night had been a real ball with the sisters 
competing with one another for Mitch's attentions. They'd even worked on him 
as a team, with one sucking his cock while the other played with his ass and 
balls. That first night, he'd fucked them both two or three times. 

When he'd fuck Cathy, Trixie would go down with her hot, moist tongue on 
Mitch's balls and ass hole. They always took turns and would complain 
petulantly if Mitch seemed to show any favoritism between them. They vied 
with one another to see who could please him the most, each girl trying to 
outdo her sister and be the one to give Mitch a climax. 

Sometimes Trixie would lick at Mitch's cock as he was sliding it in and out 
of Cathy's love hole. Cathy would often do the same when he was fucking the 
hot blooded and uninhibited Trixie. Between them they really knew how to 
turn someone on. 

Trixie would straddle Mitch's hips and ride his bulging prick allowing it to 
slip to the very tip, almost coming completely out, before bringing her 
luscious love box down around the very root of Mitch's pulsing spear, 
slamming her ripe ass right into his straining balls. While this was 
happening Cathy would be perched on Mitch's face, rubbing her delicious 
sweet honey box into Mitch's mouth as he reached up and pinched the heaving 
pair of breasts dangling enticingly from each of the sex stoned and wanton 
sisters. 

One time Mitch had Trixie kneel on the bed and while he fucked her in her 
ass hole, shoved her face into Cathy's fur box and pulled Trixie's head 
around by her hair as her tongue went deep into Cathy's body. Cathy massaged 
her own pear shaped boobs as her sister's face was forced harder and harder 
up against her bawdry twat. As Mitch pumped his cock harder into Trixie's 
grateful booty, her tongue savored the potent juices of Cathy's spring-tide 
of passion. They had a triple climax even though Trixie's twat was left 
untouched. 

Trixie also liked to lie on her back with Mitch straddling her chest so that 
she could massage his jutting prick by rubbing it between her lovely 
knockers while she masturbated herself. She knew how to jerk Mitch off as 
she worked her tits but Cathy would be required to masturbate her since she 
needed both hands to work her breasts. Trixie would raise her head and lick 
and suck at Mitch's tip as her soft warm flesh brought him to peaks of 
passion. She would often be looking right down the tube as Mitch released 
his load splashing into her face as she tried to get her tongue on it. 
Whatever she missed was never wasted, since Cathy would lick it from her 
sister's neck and face. 

He would send them out in the early evening and tell them how much they had 
to bring home. If they didn't bring in enough money he'd make them whip one 
another. If just one came back with enough money she whipped the other, but 
was not whipped herself unless she failed to whip her sister with proper 
enthusiasm. Whenever one sister was lax in administering punishment Mitch 
would think up a new and ingenious punishment that she would have to submit 
to. 

He really enjoyed watching the sisters whipping each other's ass just 
because he told them to do so. They'd both do anything he told them. 

Mitch recalled one night when Cathy and Trixie had both come home empty 
handed. It had been raining, and they'd been unable to turn any tricks. 

"Mitch-it's no use-I just couldn't--" Cathy began, sobbing, anticipating 
what was in store for her. 

"Shut up!" snarled Mitch, clubbing the back of his fist across her face and 
knocking her down. "There's no wine, there's no grass, there isn't even any 
fucking food in the house, and you can't even turn a trick. I hope you did 
better, big sister." 

Trixie cringed against the door. She was unable to speak, but her eyes said 
it all. Mitch kicked her in the twat with his heavy motorcycle boot. He 
looked down at the gasping, sniveling girls, relishing the thought of what 
he'd make them do to each other as punishment. It was almost better than if 
they'd come in with some bread. 

"Get on your feet," he said, "and take your fucking clothes off." 

Cathy and Trixie stripped, as ordered, still sobbing. They knew what Mitch 
was like when he got in this kind of a mood, and they were so frightened 
they couldn't even speak. He led them to the tiny kitchen, where he ordered 
Trixie to lie on top of the electric range. 

"Mitch-you can't-l won't!" sobbed Trixie, trying to get up, but Mitch 
knocked her back down with a blow of his fist that brought a spurt of blood 
to her lips. 

"Lie on top of her," he ordered Cathy, and she complied meekly. 

Mitch tied them together, hand and foot, Cathy on top of Trixie. Then he 
switched on all the burners of the range to the "Low" setting. He was 
getting carried away with his fun, but he still had sense enough to know 
that they'd be no good to him as whores if he scarred them up too badly. 
Even so, every fiber of his being longed to flip the dials to the "High" 
setting and send them on the ultimate pain-trip. 

The nude, voluptuous beauties lay there for a moment, sobbing, before it 
struck them just what he was up to. It struck Trixie first, as all four 
burners of the range heated up and began searing into her naked back. She 
began squirming and bucking, trying to turn herself away from them--and she 
succeeded in pushing Cathy's back against the burners. 

"Oh, wow, outtasight!" howled Mitch, who was whacking off furiously as he 
watched them. His come splashed out and happened to spatter over Trixie's 
nude back, reddened in four round spirals from the heat of the range, and 
when Cathy managed to flip her over again, the sizzling sound his semen made 
on the hot burners turned him on again. 

The girls struggled back and forth, neither one of them able to win a 
decisive victory and keep her sister firmly pinned against the hot burners. 
The thought soon entered their heads that they ought to work together and 
roll off the range completely, rather than fight each other to see who got 
burned, but Mitch anticipated that, and he threatened to carve them up with 
a butcher knife he held in his hand if they pulled any of that stuff. They 
knew he meant it. 

Mitch's sexual excitement increased as he watched them writhing about like 
that, trying to keep their backs out of contact with the electric coils. 
Finally he couldn't stand the stiff pressure of his bone any longer, and not 
wanting to jerk off again, he climbed on top of the pile. Trixie happened to 
be on top and shoved his meat into her asshole. 

Cathy screamed with despair. Now, with Mitch's great weight added to the 
pressure Trixie was applying on her, she was pinned down on the burners just 
as securely as she could possibly be. The odor of burning flesh rose to 
Mitch's nostrils before he finally pulled his cock out of Trixie's asshole. 

He hadn't come yet, though, and he went to the sink and ran cold water over 
his stiff prick until he was sure he'd desensitized it for the time being 
and was ready for another round. 

Cathy had fought her way back to the top as soon as Mitch had left, and now 
it was her asshole that was the recipient of the hard, searing, inward 
thrust of his oversized tool. Trixie was pinned down, meanwhile, and she 
screamed wildly even as Cathy moaned from the unbearable squeeze that Mitch 
was subjecting her to. He rammed his cock in and out of her rectum until 
finally he came. 

It was only then that he decided to let the girls off the stove, and he made 
them both lick his prick good and clean before he at last untied their 
bonds. 

Mitch remembered that Trixie had one john who liked to watch her make love 
to his German shepherd dog. Mitch and Cathy had been there on one of the 
evenings during which Trixie was to entertain this guy and his dog. He would 
pay one hundred dollars just to jerk himself off while Trixie made love to 
the dog. Mitch couldn't understand it. 

Trixie would spread herself out on the bed while the john would stuff a 
small quantity of hamburger meat up into her cunt, working his fingers as he 
did so to arouse her before the dog was allowed on the bed. The dog strained 
at his leash. As soon as the john felt her body beginning to respond at the 
prodding of his fingers he patted the bed and allowed the dog enough slack 
to jump on the bed. The giant dog reacted immediately to his master's signal 
by leaping on the bed between Trixie's twitching legs and beginning to 
nuzzle at her hairy little quim. Her body jerked spasmodically as the dog's 
long tongue sought out the bits of hamburger meat trapped deep up her snatch 
and the dog's pointed fangs chaffed the tender skin and tangled the hairs of 
her cushy succulent snatch. 

When the dog began licking her box, Trixie, aware that all eyes in the room 
were riveted to the sight, went wild in a frenzy of open-mouthed eruption. 
The john hovered in the corner playing out the dog's leash, avidly engrossed 
in the sight presented by Trixie's twisting contortions as she attempted to 
drive the dog's flashing tongue deeper into her quivering body with her own 
gluttonous body movements. Masturbating rapidly and holding the dog's leash 
so he had at least some control of the action, the wide eyed john would spit 
large globs of saliva on his fingers so that it sounded as if he were 
fucking a juicy cunt. 

After a fair amount of time had elapsed Trixie slid her body around so that 
her head was now very close to the dog's tail. She slipped her hand under 
the dog's stomach and began to rub his cock and balls. The dog rolled over 
and lay with his hind legs out and his paws curled, as if playing dead, but 
his tongue was still going in Trixie's pussy. The dog was laying the same 
way that many dogs lay on hot days, on his back with legs outstretched. The 
room was really hot by now anyhow. 

Trixie began to suck at the dog's round tight balls as she continued to rub 
his prick with her hand. When a thin dripping tube emerged from the covering 
sheath, she quickly covered the gloopy looking pink thing with her mouth and 
worked her tongue over its entire length. 

The john had moved to the foot of the bed and was pounding his prick so hard 
that Mitch thought that it might come off. The dopey bastard had his fat 
face so close up to the scene of action that his onion head was blocking 
Mitch and Cathy's view. When Trixie flipped onto her knees and guided the 
dog into her glistening sodden cunt, the dog seemed to go insane. Trixie 
obviously loved it as the dog pumped himself into her wiggling excited body. 
The fact that she was the center of attention fucking a wild beast and 
degrading herself simultaneously only served to enhance Trixie's all 
consuming lust. She enjoyed being the key performer and she also liked to 
have her sister in the audience. Trixie was sure that Cathy understood 
because they were so much alike. 

Cathy reached for Mitch's erect cock and started to stroke it vigorously as 
she watched her sister and the dog was rapidly approaching a withering 
climax. The dog lunged himself viciously into Trixie's love trap as he 
neared completion. She cried out and collapsed with the dog on top of her as 
the dog's sperm flowed into her hot welcoming body. Her back was gouged with 
long scratches where the large dog had held himself mounted upon her. His 
tapered claws had tore into Trixie's flesh but she was too far gone into 
passion to notice. As the dog withdrew Trixie buried her disheveled head in 
her languid arms and burrowed her blushing face into the bedspread. She was 
whimpering. 

"I'd pay another fifty bucks to see your sister there eat the come out of 
that sweet pussy of yours and pass it back to you by mouth," the john told 
Trixie without glancing at Mitch or Cathy. He called his dog and the mutt 
left the bed and began to lick his master's cock. Mitch went into the 
kitchen as Cathy was getting undressed. 

Mitch didn't return until the john had left. The two sisters were still 
naked and lying together on the bed as Mitch came through the bedroom door. 
He removed his clothes and lay between the girls. Stretching himself out he 
ordered them to lick his body from head to foot. He made them get out of bed 
and worship him. They knelt on either side of the bed and begged to be 
permitted to lick his body. Mitch graciously allowed them to take turns 
sucking his cock. He pretended they were his slaves and he treated them 
exactly as if they were chattel. Cathy and Trixie really dug it. They were 
eager to please. 

Mitch hadn't seen Trixie since he'd arrived in the apartment. She must be 
out working, he thought. He'd heard that Trixie was now working for some 
spade cat who had a string of girls out hustling. Mitch believed it since he 
accepted the premise that spades had larger cocks than white guys and there 
was nothing Trixie liked better than a big cock. The black man probably even 
beat her and treated her like dirt which would make Trixie love him even 
more. The more you mistreated Trixie, the more apt she was to love you. 

Mitch really didn't understand how these girls could reconcile being treated 
poorly, shit and spat upon and still believed themselves truly loved by 
those who did it. He knew only that he did love Cathy in spite or because of 
their rather bizarre sexual habits. When Cathy gave herself to him, she gave 
herself totally and without reservation. 

She called to him from the kitchen to come and eat. He pulled his body 
slowly and painfully from the snug security of the warm bed. He was still 
shaky. Wafting into his nostrils from the direction of Trixie's tidy kitchen 
the tantalizing smell of the cooking food lured him forward. Mitch was 
hungry after all. 

As he was eating he told Cathy to get dressed and go down to the corner 
newsstand for a paper. Mitch hardly ever read the paper. He saw no pressing 
need to follow what was happening in a world that was alien from his own and 
over which he exerted no control. He wanted it to see if he was in it or if 
they had Stella's murder written up. 

Cathy came back with the paper and handed it to Mitch giving him a light 
kiss on the cheek as she cleared away the breakfast dishes. Mitch knew that 
Cathy loved him and it gave him a strange feeling of inner calm as he 
realized for the first time how close they really were. He knew Cathy as 
he'd never known anyone else. 

He knew that he must always treat her roughly and she knew it too. There was 
no pretense between them. They never talked about it, though they both knew 
it had to be this way. She may have been the world's biggest whore, but she 
was Mitch's whore. He owned her body and soul. 

There was no mention of Stella's murder in the paper. Mitch felt relieved as 
he read the stories of other murders and other incidents scattered 
throughout the printed pages. He laughed at the cartoons. If they hadn't 
found her body by now, maybe they never would. When he'd finished with the 
paper, Mitch sent Cathy over to the Stomper's clubhouse to find out if any 
police had been around looking for him. He didn't trust the papers. 

Cathy, who knew nothing about the murder, wondered why Mitch was acting so 
peculiarly. 

Mitch and Cathy walked towards the gas station where Mitch had stashed the 
bike. He was fairly bursting by the time they reached their destination. 

"Hello bike, you beautiful thing you. Look Cathy, look how his chrome 
shines. Oh, you beautiful, beautiful bike you. I am going to take you for a 
glorious ride. You can't wait, can you, bike? Well, are you ready?" Mitch 
addressed the bike as if it were flesh and blood. The bike, it seemed to 
Mitch, had been waiting patiently, leaning on its kickstand, for the entire 
night for Mitch to come along and endow it with the life that Mitch, and 
only Mitch, could give it. 

Mitch kicked the starter pedal twice, flipped on the ignition, kicked the 
pedal again and shattered and rent the darkness with the mighty engine's 
crescendo of cascading sound. 

It was music; beautiful music and the feel of power. Mitch's head was a 
kaleidoscope of unleashed and naked power. As soon as Cathy was mounted 
behind, he headed his frothing beast out into the pregnant night. 

He rode fast but being careful to avoid the known cop hangouts. He wasn't 
wearing his colors. It was safer that way and he attracted a little less 
attention. Most of the Stompers were in the habit of hiding their colors 
when they were riding alone or in very small groups. Wearing the colors was 
similar to waving a red flag in the face of a bull as far as its effects on 
the cops were concerned. 

Mitch felt as if he were sailing in air as he swept past the Ballantine 
Brewery and up onto the Pulaski Skyway. A short while later he found himself 
at the George Washington Bridge approaches in the company of four other 
machines. He couldn't pinpoint the precise moment the other riders had 
joined him but they seemed to be beckoning to Mitch to ride with them as 
they went into the toll booths. They even paid the bridge toll for Mitch and 
Cathy. 

They looked like swishes, leather boys on full dress hogs. Mitch had nothing 
but contempt for them but he tagged along behind them anyhow. The five bikes 
raced across the bridge and down to the West Side Highway. Mitch was lost in 
the clouds as the roaring monsters careened along the highway threading 
their way through mazes of red taillights. Faceless persons stared out at 
them through sheets of rolled up glass as the riders weaved and twisted past 
the clumps of graceless metal containers that held the people imprisoned in 
their own luxury. They cut off the highway and sped across the city's ill 
kept streets heedless of the shattering thunder of their combined exhausts 
as they echoed and re-echoed in the concrete canyons of New York. 

They were at a bar in Greenwich Village. There were perhaps twenty machines 
of all makes and models aligned in neat rows along the curb outside. 
Tourists and street people intermingled with the natives on the crowded 
sidewalk in front of the honky-tonk. Mitch, inside the bar, had a drink in 
his hand and one of the leather boys he so despised was talking to him. He 
wanted to know how to chop his bike and was asking Mitch's opinion on what 
needed to be done. He seemed to feel some sort of kinship with Mitch. Mitch 
didn't give a shit about the queer's motorcycle and he let the words drop 
over him without paying attention. He hated this type of person. They were 
all carbon copies and stereotypes, none of them were real. They were 
phonies. He left the fruit in mid-sentence, grabbed Cathy by the arm and 
pulled her out into the street. Drink still in hand, he straddled the bike 
backwards and watched the endless parade of people passing by. 

Somebody who looked pretty real came by after a half-hour or so. He was a 
tall cat with buccaneer boots, a sword on his hip and wearing a leather hat 
with plumes on it. He was very weird. He looked like Robin Hood or some 
other character. The far-out looking dude asked them if they wanted to buy 
some dope. 

Before they knew what was happening, Mitch and Cathy were walking down the 
street with the exotically attired drug peddler. Two or three people stopped 
the trio to make buys before they got to an old ramshackle building on 
Bleecker Street. Sure enough, as the drug peddler had told them, there was a 
party going on. 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

The sticky sweet smell of grass floated through the conversations which 
Mitch picked up on beneath the overlapping layers of a mean blues harp 
beginning another set on the blasting stereo. The room which Mitch entered 
was like another world. It was different from anything he'd ever encountered 
before. It was filled to overflowing with a host of alien beings. The whole 
place was jammed to the rafters with weirdos of every conceivable 
description. 

Mitch was still speeding along as he gulped down an acid that was given him 
by a lush. 

dark skinned chick who looked almost Asiatic. The dusky beauty had long, jet 
black hair piled high atop an oval face with very slightly slanting 
eyebrows. She wore a peek-a-boo blouse and Mitch drank in the loveliness of 
her taut, pink tipped nipples which contrasted sharply to the ebony richness 
of her full ripened bosom as she strained up at him from the sheer 
transparency of her garment. She seemed very friendly. 

Cathy was lost. Mitch could feel the advent of the acid. He would be stoned 
for quite a while, he reflected as he began to search for Cathy. 

"Cathy, Cathy?" he called as he bumbled about the room. She had disappeared, 
vanished into thin air. 

Mitch's perception of the room was as if he were thirty million miles in 
space looking at it through the wrong end of a telescope. A myriad of 
reflected images surrounded and encased him. He was very hot and sweating as 
he got caught up in a cluster of gesticulating fanatics. Mitch never knew 
what they were fanatics about, but he could tell unerringly that they were 
fanatic. He couldn't find Cathy. 

"Where's Cathy? Where's Cathy?" Cathy was lost. Mitch got lost in the hall. 
He was hallucinating and he didn't realize it. He wanted Cathy. Where the 
hell was Cathy? 

Mitch saw Jesus leaning on a doorway up against the wall. "Are you Jesus?" 
he asked him incredulously. 

"Not lately," he answered handing Mitch a super fat joint as he did so. 
Mitch took a deep drag and passed on. As he went by Jesus blessed him. 

Mitch spotted Cathy. She was pinned to the wall by a huge and horrible hulk. 
The ugly hulk sent bad vibes through Mitch's still painful body. Well, his 
body wasn't all that painful Mitch thought as he grabbed the hulk's fat neck 
from behind. He could barely get his hands all the way around the immense 
neck and he had to stand on tip-toes to reach it. 

He squeezed until the hulk turned away from Cathy to face him. Without 
giving the hulk any time Mitch lifted his knee into hulk's groin while at 
the same time rabbit punching him on his thick neck. The hulk collapsed in a 
heap on the floor. Many people applauded as Cathy hugged Mitch and led him 
away into another room. The battle was over. 

Mitch felt very good. He held Cathy close and was glad he'd been able to 
save her from the evil hulk. Cathy was extra beautiful as she covered Mitch 
with kisses and sucked at his lower lip. Mitch's whole being unwound and 
intermingled with Cathy's. Their two separate souls intertwined becoming 
one. 

They kissed for an eternity of unbounded bliss and when they looked into one 
another's eyes, they laughed as they saw only one another reflected back. 
They saw only themselves as they explored each other. Mitch thought he was 
going to explode with an undefined and nameless happiness. 

The walls of the room they were in were papered with posters. Posters were 
everywhere in the house, everywhere in the city and everywhere in the world. 
Even the stinkin' rotten Chinese Communists had posters. Everybody had 
posters. Mitch had no posters, but even worse he had no walls. He laughed 
and tried to share the joke with Cathy. She wanted to neck. Mitch studied 
the posters. 

One of the posters was of Cathy! She was lying nude on a gleaming gold 
chopper. Her body was painted in luminous colors that blended perfectly with 
the royal bike's somewhat muted color scheme. She looked beautiful and 
radiant. Mitch turned her face and pointed up at the picture so they could 
share it. She smiled as she at last recognized it. The poster brought back a 
lot of memories. 

Mitch had been there the day the picture was taken and after the 
photographer was finished Mitch had driven Cathy with the multi-colored 
paint still on her body to a quiet and secluded wood. He'd been on acid then 
too, and Cathy had been quite a sight as she pranced naked through the woods 
with her many hued body shimmering like a rainbow. Mitch had run after her 
and she'd fled before him mockingly. He chased her around and around the 
giant trees, but she managed to elude him until he was half crazy with 
desire. 

As they romped through the woods, Mitch and Cathy found an abandoned 
windmill, and they decided to explore it. They were shocked at what they 
found. The big stone room inside had been converted by someone into a 
torture chamber, with all sorts of instruments of torment lined around the 
walls. 

"Gee, Mitch," said Cathy, "who do you suppose this all belongs to?" 

"I wouldn't know, but I think this is just what the doctor ordered at the 
moment." 

"Wha--what do you mean, Mitch?" 

Mitch didn't answer. He was looking at a sturdy ladder fastened securely 
into the slimy stone wall. The most unusual thing about it was that it 
didn't go anywhere. It just ended, with no door or ledge or anything but the 
blank wall. 

Then he noticed something else: at the base of the ladder was a thick wooden 
roller, which could apparently be turned by a crank through a system of 
wooden gears. 

"I read about one of these things in a book once," said Mitch, "and I've 
always wanted to see how they worked." 

"Jeez, Mitch, I wouldn't even begin to guess!" 

"Well, kid, you're going to find out." 

"What do you mean?" 

Cathy started as something hard and cold touched her wrists, and she 
realized that Mitch had got a pair of handcuffs that were hanging on the 
wall and had cuffed her hands behind her back before she'd even realized 
what he was up to. He turned her around until her back was to the ladder. He 
did it gently, smiling at her all the while, and that reassured her, because 
Cathy knew that Mitch loved her and whatever he did to her was groovy, as 
long as he did it. 

"Climb up the ladder backwards, doll," said Mitch. "Don't worry. I'll catch 
you if you fall." 

Cathy did as she was told, as always, somewhat clumsily, but Mitch steadied 
her by holding her nude hips. She stood on the fourth rung of the ladder 
now, some five feet from the ground and that ominous roller at the base of 
the ladder. Mitch went behind her, and she felt that he was fastening the 
shackles on her wrists to one of the rungs at the small of her back. She was 
secured tightly to the ladder now, unable to move her arms, as Mitch 
reappeared into her field of vision. 

Mitch took a thick rope from the variety of those things hung about the 
walls and bound her right ankle, making several firm loops around her ankle 
and calf before finally tying a knot so tight that it made her wince. He 
tied the other end of the rope to a pin in the roller beneath her, and then 
repeated the procedure with another rope around her left ankle. 

"Please, Mitch--don't get carried away, will you?" Cathy asked hesitantly. 

"Don't give me none of that shit, you stupid broad," snarled Mitch, punching 
her savagely in the stomach. "I'm always completely in control of myself. I 
never get carried away." 

"Whatever you say, Mitch," sobbed Cathy, when at last she was capable of 
speech again. 

Mitch bent now to the crank that turned the roller. Cathy had been standing 
on one of the rungs, but as Mitch turned the crank, the ropes on her feet 
were wound around the roller, the slack was taken off them, and her feet 
were pulled off the rung. She screamed, knowing now what the torture 
was--all her weight was supported on her arms, shackled behind her back, and 
they were being pulled up by her own weight, strained in an unnatural way 
that made it feel as if her shoulder blades were being pulled out by the 
roots. 

"Jesus, kid, if you scream like that, you won't have no strength left when 
the going really gets rough. I always said you was my girl because you could 
take it." 

"I--ahhh!--I'm sorry Mi-ih-itch!" gasped Cathy. "I'll try to do better." 

Cathy made a real effort to stop screaming her lungs out and conserve her 
energy. And there was always a chance that her screams might attract some 
jerk who'd misunderstood all this, who wouldn't see that she wanted it 
because Mitch wanted it. 

It was hard to keep from screaming though, because Mitch was turning the 
roller again, and the pain in her shoulders was becoming more than just a 
localized pain--it was as if all of her bones were being pried loose from 
the flesh, and she felt the agony of it from the tips of her toes to the top 
of her head. She couldn't even scream, even if she'd wanted to, now, because 
her heart had seemed to stop and her voice was paralyzed by the excess of 
pain that was tearing her body apart. 

She couldn't see Mitch any more, and that was the worst torture of all. Her 
body was thrust forward, her head hanging down, as her arms were raised 
behind her until they were almost stretched out at right angles to her 
torso. Every effort to ease the pain by shifting her position only served to 
increase it--it was a horrid, unnatural position--she was being bent and 
stretched in directions that the human form hadn't been designed for. She 
couldn't move a muscle without increasing the flood of pain that threatened 
to drown her at any moment. 

"Keep a tight asshole, kid," said Mitch. 

"Here goes nothing." 

The worst scream yet was wrenched out of Cathy's ruby lips as Mitch went 
back to his grisly work and turned the horrible crank a couple of more 
notches. She felt the sockets of her arms being ground and torn by the 
wrenching, upward pressure as her body was dragged down the ladder, and the 
strain on her elbows and forearms had become almost unbearable, too. 

"How's it goin', kid?" Mitch asked, looking up at her. "You're starting to 
turn a little blue around the edges." 

"Oh--Mitch--I--" 

"Yeah, I know, you want more. Cheest! You dames. This ain't the easiest 
thing in the world, you know, turning this motherfuckin' crank." 

Mitch had caught his breath, and now he bent over the crank once again, 
jerking it around a few more notches and forcing Cathy's contorted arms up 
higher behind her back. It felt as if the muscles around her shoulders and 
armpits had been hooked onto white-hot wires that were drawing them out, 
spindling them and rending them. Something was surely on the verge of 
giving--she didn't know what it was, but she was sure in the next instant 
that a bone would break, a joint would be dislocated, or a bunch of tendons 
would snap like over-extended rubber bands. 

"Please, Mitch--no more, please--I'll do anything you say--anything you 
want--" 

"You'd do that anyway, so save your breath," gasped Mitch, who really had to 
struggle to turn the crank, now. 

He began sending fresh waves of pain through bones and muscles that she 
thought could have stood no more. She was being drawn back toward the ladder 
as her arms were raised impossibly above the horizontal point. She could 
raise her face and see him again, and that was something, at least. She 
wondered how high he planned to raise her arms, how far down he planned to 
drag her body--or, more to the point, how far he could go without killing 
her or crippling her for life. She'd never be able to ride pillion on his 
chopper again, if he turned her arms into spaghetti. The thought made her 
sob. 

"I guess that's about enough," said Mitch, climbing up the ladder until he 
was above her and his thick, hard cock was pressing against her mouth. "Give 
me one of your really great blowjobs, and then maybe I'll think about 
letting you down." 

Cathy threw her whole soul into sucking his cock, laving the thick meat in 
her mouth, massaging it with her lips and tongue, and when Mitch's hot cream 
spurted out, she knew that she'd given him the best she could give. She 
swallowed greedily, and Mitch at last untied her. 

When they left the windmill, they went back to their romp through the woods, 
and Mitch once again chased Cathy through the trees. 

When he caught her, Mitch threw her down and licked each inch of her lithe 
little body, every nook and cranny. No part of her escaped his ravenous 
tongue. Cathy had gone completely berserk with passion. They did everything. 
They had an orgy which defied description beneath the lofty canopy of the 
forest. Mitch remembered and smiled at Cathy. Cathy remembered too, she'd 
been sore for a week afterward but she wouldn't have traded that memory for 
anything. The couple were very happy as they stood looking into each other's 
hearts and eyes. 

In the corner of the room he caught the faint sounds of people speaking 
softly. He tried to see into the darkened recess from which the muted voices 
could just barely be traced. Cathy, hearing it too, half turned and their 
four eyes probed into the murky blackness trying to embody the floating 
words. The acid was making a shambles of Mitch's senses as he peered into 
the darkness of the pitchy textured room. After a brief period his dilated 
eyes were able to perceive the dimly naked forms of two unknown figures 
huddled together alongside a chair in the darkest corner of the far wall. 

"Well, now that you've discovered us, why don't you flick on the light, 
dearie?" crooned a huskily feminine voice. 

Another fuckin' queer! Mitch thought to himself as he groped alongside the 
wooden door casement looking for the light switch. His searching fingers 
slid across barren plaster. "Mother fucking switch," he grumbled out loud. 

"The switch is in the hall just outside the door," advised the same voice 
from the dark. Mitch felt around the outside and finally located the elusive 
switch, the room suddenly burst into brightness. Mitch and Cathy blinked 
into the blinding whiteness in a futile effort to discern the features of 
the two naked bodies whose vague outlines they had seen earlier in the 
darkness. 

"How long have you two been standing there?" asked the still disembodied 
voice. "Oh well, I guess it really doesn't matter," the voice added after a 
brief pause. 

One of the forms which Mitch and Cathy could only now begin to recognize was 
the body of a rather tall and splendidly proportioned female. Her sparkling 
hair was jet black and descended in spiraling cascades over her well favored 
face and wide white shoulders. To Mitch she looked like a vision of wondrous 
pulchritude. 

"Hi, there," she said brightly. She didn't seem in the least concerned at 
her total lack of apparel. "My name's Holley and that over there is L," she 
said indicating with a stretched thumb the other form huddled in the corner. 

Mitch tried to introduce Cathy and himself to the stunning girl but the 
words refused to form themselves. The acid he'd ingested was coming on 
heavily in densely overlapping waves, scattering his thought processes and 
wreaking absolute havoc on his communication devices. Mitch stammered and 
stuttered, but still the words eluded his groping mind and tongue. The 
harder he tried, the more confused he became. 

Holley and L were naked and seated directly across from him, fondling one 
another with semi-tender caresses as they spoke. Mitch's rapidly expanding 
head encompassed the universe and then shattered into tiny fragments as he 
watched. 

"They couldn't be doing that. They couldn't be sitting there and doing 
that." His mind revolted at the incongruity before him. He had to pull it 
together, had to assemble and arrange. Panic stalked him while confusion 
defied him. Chaotic ramblings converged upon his unwilling consciousness and 
trampled it. Blind and unreasoned fear pervaded every level of Mitch's 
disarrayed thought pattern. 

"What was happening? What was going on? Couldn't be doing that. What?" Mitch 
couldn't decide, couldn't interpret. Didn't know! He didn't know and 
couldn't decide. Decide what? Didn't know! He didn't know. Know what? Know? 
What? Didn't know. What? What?" 

"What!?" The sound of his own voice startled him. 

Cathy flashed him a strange look. Holley and L were kissing. "Holley's 
invited us up to her house in the country." 

"We can leave now if you'd like," enjoined Holley. "We can take my car if 
you want. It's about a four hour drive but we usually stop for coffee and... 
" Her voice droned on and on. 

Mitch finding his powers of locomotion rose off the bed. "Let's go," he said 
as he made ready to depart. 

Holley paused in her monologue. "To the house, you mean?" 

"Yes, we'll wait in the other room for ya." Mitch grabbed Cathy by the arm 
and fled into the living room. 

People were filing past them in a constant stream as Mitch and Cathy huddled 
unobtrusively in the doorway which led from the swarming living room to the 
back part of the house. Mitch's head was still spinning and he felt he had 
to escape the house. Even so, he waited. He wasn't sure why, but he felt 
compelled to wait. He had to wait and had to leave. His mind was in a 
quandary of indecisive indecision. Holley and L appeared just a split second 
before Mitch would have split himself asunder. 

"Let's go," he said and made for the exit. 

"We have to say good-bye," they said. 

"Wait outside," Mitch muttered dragging Cathy along. 

Once outside, Mitch's head began to clear a bit. It must be the air, he 
thought to himself. He remembered from reading the paper that they were 
ruining the air, polluting it until no one would be able to breathe. "Damn 
bastards," he mumbled to himself. Ruining my air. Well, he could always wear 
a gas mask. He chuckled at the vision of everyone wearing a gas mask and 
looking like Martians. 

"Wait for me," Mitch instructed Cathy. 

Cathy was loath to let him loose in the streets, but she knew that there was 
no way she could stop him. She let him go without asking him where he was 
going or how long he'd be. Hoping that she wouldn't have to wait all night 
for his return Cathy sat down on the front stoop. She would wait as long as 
necessary. 

Mitch walked at a leisurely pace in the general direction of the bike. He no 
longer felt speed and his thoughts were arranging themselves in familiar 
patterns. His mind seemed crystal clear as he surveyed the environment of 
the city. The streets and buildings seemed almost hospitable and the passing 
people friendly as Mitch rounded a corner and caught sight of the bike. His 
bike, beautiful bike. His mind's eye had pictured his gleaming iron steed 
long before it had actually hovered into view. He really loved the damn 
thing. 

He took the bike for a short, brisk ride before he headed back for Bleecker 
Street. As he shot around the corner he caught sight of Cathy and L standing 
about three doors down from the house where the party was still in full 
swing. He wheeled up to the curb with a screech and felt magnificent as he 
basked in the attention which the two girls lavished upon him. 

L's eyes seemed to be an open invitation for Mitch to conquer her, to lay 
her right there on the sidewalk, to overcome and subdue her, to bend her to 
his iron will. Mitch could read these things in her eyes as L examined him 
and licked the corners of her ripe mouth with a quick darting of the tongue. 
She had the most seductive smile that Mitch had ever seen. 

"Holley's gone for the car," Cathy informed Mitch without the slightest 
trace of annoyance at being left on the sidelines. She knew that Mitch would 
always come back. He always had and always would. Cathy was sure he loved 
her and didn't mind sharing him with others. There was plenty of him to go 
around. 

"The garage is around the corner. You could park your motorcycle there," L 
told Mitch while drinking him in with hungry eyes. 

She pointed in the direction of the garage and Mitch, feeling he wanted to 
make a still deeper impression of his masculine virility performed a 
two-thirds perfectly executed "wheely" as he gunned the bike down to the end 
of the street. He laid the bike over so far leaning into the sharp corner 
that he very nearly lost it coming out of the turn. He saw the garage and 
made a vain attempt to frighten the attendant by missing him by a mere 
hairbreadth after twisting the throttle for a final burst of convulsive 
speed. The man merely sidestepped him as Mitch screamed into the interior of 
the garage. Mitch saw Holley standing by the large entrance, waiting for her 
car to be disgorged from within the vast steel and concrete vault. 

 CHAPTER EIGHT 

Cathy's eyes widened as she took in the obvious splendor of the immense 
house. Mitch was more or less unimpressed by it and this fact was well noted 
by his hostess although neither of them said anything. Cathy fairly gushed 
about how beautiful it all was and how lucky she and Mitch were to be there. 
Mitch glared at her as if he wanted to cut off her flow of praise and 
gratitude which was visibly embarrassing him. She didn't seem to get the 
hint. Finally, in desperation, Mitch stomped down on her foot bringing an 
audible "Ow!" leaping from Cathy's throat. 

Much to Holley's and L's amusement Mitch shoved her towards the house with a 
vile invective. 

Once inside the house, Mitch too was impressed. He'd been in a few rich 
people's houses before, usually surreptitiously, but this one was totally 
beyond his ken. The room was like nothing Mitch had seen before. A huge 
crystal chandelier supplied the mammoth room with light. Rich paintings 
adorned the walls and Mitch's heavy boots sank into a carpet that seemed to 
be suspended on a cushion of air. A massive set of engraved doors stood open 
to reveal a room that was covered with bookshelves and dominated by a desk 
that looked as if it had once belonged to a king. Scattered about this room 
were several pedestals supporting busts of various funny looking people whom 
Mitch didn't recognize. He had probably seen them when he was living in the 
street and had gone to the museums to use the toilet. He liked to use the 
museum bathrooms because they were always spotlessly clean. 

Through another set of doors a wide mahogany staircase wound elegantly to 
the upper floors. Mitch wondered what the rest of the house was like. He 
wondered how much he could get for the furniture and other stuff if he got a 
truck up here some day and hauled it all back to Newark. Probably not too 
much, he thought, who did he know who could afford to buy it? 

Holley led the gaping pair into yet another room while L disappeared in 
another direction. The room they were led into was as equally lavish and 
Mitch shrewdly surmised that the entire house must be chock full of the 
savory trappings of affluence. He felt as if his ship was finally coming in. 
He meant to make the best of it. Holley asked Mitch to build a fire in the 
large stone fireplace that stood at one end of the richly paneled den. 

The fireplace was so huge that Mitch could have almost stood erect within 
its grey-black wrought firepit. The small shelf of the mantle was 
constructed of white marble that blended perfectly with the stone. Directly 
in front of it was a small cluster of comfortable looking furniture around a 
white polar bear rug. Mitch found the wooden logs already stacked. Mitch 
soon had a respectable fire ablaze in spite of his inexperience. He didn't 
even have to sprinkle it with gasoline. 

L entered the room bearing a swelling tray heaped to overflowing with a 
choice variety of gourmet food. Mitch didn't recognize any of the delicacies 
on the tray but he recognized the featured delicacy of the day. It was L. 
She was carrying the tray on one shoulder balancing it with both hands. Her 
right arm was crooked up under it while she used her left to keep it from 
tipping or spilling. She was as beautiful and graceful as the finest Greek 
statue. 

Having discarded her clothing, L was naked as she entered the room. L's taut 
nipples stood bold and brazenly upright as her pear-shaped breasts swayed 
gently as she glided across the slightly chilled room. The lush curve of her 
pinnacles sloping upward made her lithe body appear as if it had been 
moulded by some ancient sculpture on the rolling hills of the Acropolis. Her 
ripe buttocks revealed the faintest traces of having been whipped or beaten 
with some form of stick or strap in the not too distant past adding 
immeasurably to her vibrant desirability and demonstrating her ready 
willingness to be subjugated. Mitch knew he was going to enjoy this visit. 

Holley proposed that Mitch and Cathy allow L to undress them before eating. 
Mitch and Cathy had no objections and L performed her task with such eager 
alacrity that both Mitch and Cathy were completely naked before Holley was 
even half finished. 

"How about a little entertainment while we eat?" Holley suggested as she 
walked to a switch on the wall. She turned a knob which controlled and muted 
the amount of light being shed into the room. There was a strange heat 
raging in the light being shed into the room. There was a crackling fire 
raging in the fireplace which shimmered the room with a warm glow. Holley 
walked to a chest and lifted the lid exposing an intricate assortment of 
dials and switches. She fiddled with a few of them and closed the ornate 
cover of the hand carved chest. 

Music began to filter into Mitch's ears. Mitch scanned the room but could 
discern no speakers of any kind. He couldn't even pinpoint from which 
direction the music originated. It seemed to flow from everywhere at once to 
immerse him in resonate sound. The music was classical, but Mitch liked it 
anyway. It was very soothing and pleasing to Mitch's ears. 

While still trying to locate the source of the music, Mitch stared in 
shocked amazement as a large section of the wall slid soundlessly to one 
side revealing a movie screen with a lighted picture already upon it. The 
movie was obviously running and yet Mitch could see very plainly that there 
was no projector. 

"Back projection. The projector is behind the screen. It's all automated. 
Daddy's in the business," Holley answered Mitch's unvoiced question. "Daddy 
promised to put in a sound projector and get a good supply of sound film as 
soon as he can find the time. It's been over a year now since he promised," 
she said poutingly. "I bought a sound camera and everything and now I can't 
even run my latest movies." 

You can imagine how sorry Mitch felt for her. The poor, poor little rich 
girl who couldn't have sound for her pornographic movies. She must be 
totally devastated, the poor thing. Mitch noticed that the unclad couples 
presently cavorting across the set-up were in vivid color. They were the 
first stag films Mitch had ever seen in color and he was a connoisseur of 
home made sex flicks. 

Mitch loved sex movies. Ordinary feature films and television bored him to 
death, but he could sit and watch porno skin flicks till times got better. 
All sorts of delicious fantasies would flood his head as he watched. 

He liked to watch almost as much as he enjoyed participating. It always gave 
him a tremendously vicarious thrill to watch others engaging in sexual acts, 
in person or on film. As long as broads were readily available in case he 
should be overcome by horniness. 

One of the movies was going to be a sado-masochistic flick, Mitch could see 
it coming, from the way it was set up in a dungeon, and from how the woman 
who was apparently in charge wore boots and a leather corset and was 
cracking a whip when the scene opened. He clapped his hands and whooped with 
joy, because nothing turned him on like the sight of people getting the shit 
beat out of them, even if, unfortunately, he wasn't the one doing the 
beating. 

She had a man and woman hanging from chains in this dungeon. The man was a 
big bruiser, and he was glaring angrily at the chick with the whip, but 
Mitch could tell his heart really wasn't in his anger, because he had a bone 
on. The other one, also naked and hanging from chains, was a stacked blonde. 

First the woman with the whip knelt in front of the man and slipped his big 
cock into her mouth. She cupped his balls with her hand, and there was a 
nice zoom close-up of her sucking his cock and tickling his balls. She 
slipped her lips up and down on his cock for a while, and then she pulled 
her mouth away. Mitch's erection stiffened perceptibly as he watched, 
wishing the woman would suck him--and then he realized that the woman was 
Holley! Wow! She sure would suck him! 

She stood up, now, running her fingertips up and down the man's stiff prick. 
It was stiff and swollen and almost purple, and it gleamed with her saliva. 

Now Holley walked up and down in front of the two of them, as if trying to 
decide whether she wanted the man or the woman. She gave the blonde a good 
feel, on her tits, on her ass, and on her cunt, and the blonde closed her 
eyes and sighed like she really dug it. 

Now Holley had apparently made up her mind, because she lowered her parted 
lips to the blonde's crotch, sliding her cheek down the girl's white 
stomach. Now the blonde closed her eyes--her thighs parted-- "Christ, what's 
all this dyke shit?" cried Mitch. "When does the whipping start?" 

"Shut up, you cretin," said the real Holley. 

Mitch didn't like any broad to tell him to shut up, but he forgave her. He 
knew that Crete was somewhere off the coast of Greece, and she was comparing 
him to a Greek god by calling him a cretin. Mitch was Polish, actually, but 
he took it as a compliment. 

"Wow!" cried Mitch--because it wasn't going to be just a dyke scene. Holley, 
as soon as the blonde opened her thighs, jammed the thick leather handle of 
her whip deep up into her cunt, hard. It was obvious that she was hurting 
the piss out of the blonde, who seemed to be screaming her lungs out and 
wiggling like a fish on a line in her chains. She couldn't have been acting. 

Holley continued to twist the thick handle and shove it upward, screwing it 
into her unprepared cunt. It was nearly twice as big as any man's phallus, 
even Mitch's, but she ground it in with all the strength of her arm, 
clutching the blonde's plump buttocks with her other clawed hand so that her 
fingernails drew blood. The blonde flung her head back and flailed her legs 
wildly in a hopeless effort to escape the tearing intrusion. Holley flung 
her hair back out of her eyes and paused to wipe the sweat from her brow. 
She was really working the poor broad over. 

Holley began pumping the handle up and down, shoving it in and out, 
stretching the inflamed lips of the blonde's cunt so wide around it that 
Mitch thought they would burst. She kept fucking her with the makeshift 
dildo until a greasy sheen of blood gleamed on the leather. They couldn't 
have faked that, no way, thought Mitch. 

At last the blonde seemed to have lost consciousness, and Holley reluctantly 
pulled the bloody whip-handle out of her cunt. She beckoned to someone off 
camera--and who should show up but L! These were really the kind of home 
movies Mitch liked. 

Mitch noted that L was made up like some broad in a cheap girlie-book, with 
black mesh stockings, spiked heels, a flouncy garterbelt, a little black 
mask, and nothing else. She'd clearly made up her tits and her cunt with red 
lipstick. 

Holley whipped her, making bloody lacerations in her ass as she knelt down 
in front of the man and sucked him off. When he finally came, they zoomed in 
for a close-up: his cock spurting juice into the air in a little arc to 
splash against L's face. Mitch could have watched more of this, but the 
movie ended there. 

"Aw, fuck," said Mitch. "Is that all?" . 

Holley laughed uproariously. "Mitch, we could sit here for days, and we 
wouldn't even scratch the surface of my stock of films. Just sit back and 
watch this one." 

As Mitch relaxed and nibbled at the food, he watched the activities 
transpiring on the silver screen with intense interest. He caught sight of L 
lying on a bed surrounded by men. She had a very large roundish looking 
object, sort of like a narrow baseball bat, jammed up between her legs. In a 
well shot camera close-up you could actually see how the bat like object was 
chaffing and distending the pink walls of her juicing twat. 

L was groaning, although no one watching could hear her, and massaging her 
sumptuous boobs with her hands. She was wiggling all over the bed as a man 
standing on the floor leaned over her. L immediately grabbed his giant cock 
and began to suck it with abandoned passion. After a few minutes she was on 
her knees, kneeling above the stretched out man, still sucking furiously. 
The photography was excellent, zooming in and out with distortion free 
clarity and perfect lighting. The technique of the photographer was 
absolutely flawless. Mitch certainly had to admire the fine work he was 
doing. 

Now the man manipulating the shaft encased in L's sodden love-garden was 
also visible working the long lance with sadistic precision. Whenever he 
rammed it deeper into L's quaking crotch, her tight little ass would jump 
and her moist mouth would cover the entire cock right down to the balls. A 
third man began to whip her buttocks with a thin riding whip. He whipped her 
without mercy. Her twitching flesh became a grillwork of scarlet crimson 
within minutes. 

The whip bit into her savagely and the man working the shaft plunged it 
deeply into her as L's mouth clamped down around the base of the man's 
throbbing prick. He contorted into an obvious orgasm. He spewed his come 
into her thirsty mouth as his legs jerked spasmodically into the air. L's 
arms were wrapped tightly around the man's bull-like flanks as the camera 
panned back to get a rear view shot. It was beautiful, revealing to the 
audience the full spectrum of L's torment as the shaft pierced her trembling 
body and the whip flew into her cringing flesh. The last vision on the 
darkening screen was of L's simpering mouth dribbling the man's semen as the 
other man continued to work her over. Her half closed and lustful eyes made 
her look ecstatic as the screen gradually faded out. It was the finest 
quality movie that Mitch had seen in a very long time. 

When the movie had officially ended, Mitch glanced about the semi-dark room. 
He had a hard on and he had to piss. The drugs he'd taken earlier were still 
with him and seemed to be coming on heavier. He once again had that curious 
feeling of detachment, as if he weren't really there. He felt exactly as if 
he were part of a play. Well, at least he knew his role. It was a simple one 
and well rehearsed. 

"Come 'ere," he said to L. 

The movie screen flared up and exploded into multi-colored brightness as L 
came over and sat humbly on the floor by Mitch's feet. She was already 
quivering with excitement. Holley got up and sat next to Cathy. 

"Where's the bathroom?" Mitch asked no one in particular. He'd decided that 
piss took precedence over hard-ons. The drugs were severely hampering his 
efforts to control himself and he didn't want to wet his pants. 

 CHAPTER NINE 

L took him silently by the hand and led him quickly from the room as Mitch 
caught momentary sight of grappling couples flashing across a backdrop of 
psychedelic color. It looked like another good movie and Mitch was sorry he 
had to leave. He stumbled blindly through room after room, fantasizing away 
into new worlds of sexual phantasy and holding tightly to L's comforting 
hand. 

Mitch followed in L's wake like a little boy afraid of becoming lost in a 
strange and alien place. L's small hand was like a beacon in the wilderness 
filling Mitch's tumbling mind with a solid sense of inner security as the 
chaos plaguing him began to dissolve and dissipate into the void of 
nothingness from which it had originally sprung. He felt safe. 

They walked for hours, for years, for eons before they finally arrived at 
their elusive destination. Mitch felt wearier than he'd ever felt before. 
The full length mirror, which stretched from floor to ceiling revealed a 
strange and haggard apparition staring out at him. He stared back out at 
himself in stubborn and disbelieving amazement. He knew it couldn't be. 

Mitch's eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of his head and roll 
across the tiled floor. He threw his hands over them. He held them tightly 
to keep them from bulging out of their sockets. Mitch was terrified. He held 
his eyes with all his might to keep them in. He didn't want to lose them. He 
needed them. He would never let them go. 

He tried to run out of the bathroom, but because his hands were over his 
eyes he couldn't see where he was going. He bumped into L nearly bowling her 
over. She tried to steady him rubbing his head and crooning soothing words 
into his still intact ears. She coaxed him back to the unreal edge of 
reality in minute and gentle stages. The lulling tones of her richly 
feminine voice soothed and calmed him more than the message content of the 
words she whispered softly to transfix him in a definite time and place. 
Stupid Mitch didn't even know where he was as L skillfully maneuvered him 
into a velvetine chair that stood by the washbowl. Mitch's head sank down 
onto her chest and he began to sob as she ran her hands over and around his 
reeling head pressing him to her as she would a frightened child. She rocked 
him to and fro rhythmically treating him exactly as she would a crying baby. 
Mitch was acting like a cry-baby. 

Several minutes elapsed before Mitch found it within himself to regain his 
shattered composure and pull himself together. He knew the acid had done it. 
He realized with his sharp instinct that his eyes were not going to fall 
out. It was his own personal self that had fallen out. He knew it and he 
cursed himself. 

Mitch felt acutely embarrassed at having allowed himself to fall apart in 
front of a stupid girl, even one that was an obviously slavish slut that 
paraded naked in front of a movie camera where just anyone could see her. It 
was disgusting. Why? Why had he broken so completely down? And in front of a 
nympho sex maniac to boot. How could he have done it? Damn it, he'd show 
her. He'd show them all. 

In a blind fit of unleashed fury Mitch pushed L away from him with such 
tremendous force that she spilled head over heels backward and landed 
sprawling on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. She lay there trembling, 
her terror struck eyes looking up at him begging for pity. Mitch surveyed 
the frightened girl who lay cringing before him with an unrelenting glare. 

L was in abject terror of him afraid of Mitch to the very depths of her 
being. She knew instinctively that she could make no effective resistance to 
the wild beast that Mitch had suddenly become. She knew that he would have 
his way, that she would have to satisfy his every whim. She licked her lips 
in anticipation and hoped he wouldn't kill her. 

Mitch was still seated on the closed seat of the toilet and he no longer 
thought about taking a piss. He had more important work at hand. Snapping 
his fingers he called L to him as he would a dog and she crawled obediently 
towards him. He could hear her whimpering as he laced his fingers into her 
hair. Her tongue caressed his hardened penis as he guided her mouth onto it. 
Her lips widening to accommodate him, her hungry mouth slid slowly down upon 
its entire length. She gagged. 

Mitch thrust his buttocks upward and simultaneously shoved her head down 
upon him. He wanted to cram it all the way down her cocksucking throat and 
he nearly succeeded. L was gagging violently as it jammed against the back 
of her throat. She couldn't breathe and the freely flowing juices were 
literally drowning her. She couldn't raise her head because Mitch was 
holding it down and the gurgling noises she made as she choked on his 
ramming spear only incited him to greater and greater cruelty. 

"Suck it. Suck it, you dirty whore," Mitch gasped. 

L's mouth worked his dick. Mitch's excitement and brutality had kindled a 
rousing fire within L's very soul. Her feverish mouth bobbed with hammering 
urgency as Mitch's passion infected and consumed her. His prick became her 
universe. There was nothing but that prick, that beautiful powerful prick. 
Nothing else existed. Nothing else mattered. L ceased to exist except as an 
instrument of sexual exploitation. She wanted his come, wanted to feel it 
splashing into her mouth. Nothing else mattered and nothing else existed. 
She had to bring him to climax. L had to satisfy him so that she herself 
would be satisfied. She searched desperately for Nirvana. 

Just before he would have climaxed Mitch pulled L's head from him. "You like 
to suck?" he asked her mockingly. "You love to suck, don't you? You'd 
swallow it whole if you could, wouldn't you?" he taunted. "Come on, beg!... 
beg to suck it," he commanded. 

L, who was half kneeling, half sitting on the cold floor tiles, began to beg 
in a quavering, almost childlike voice. "Please, Mitch. Oh please let me 
suck you. I want to blow you. I want to make you come. Please, please. Let 
me suck you until you come. Come in my mouth. Oh please, Mitch, come in my 
mouth. Right now Mitch. Please, oh please, let me suck you until you come in 
my mouth. I have to have you. I want you. Oooh, please," she begged him. 

Her pretty chin was covered with drool and her rippling breasts were heaving 
with passion as she tried frantically to get Mitch's prick back into her 
hungering mouth. Mitch was holding it and rubbing it all over her face as 
she tried to get her mouth on it. Mitch teased her mercilessly and each time 
L turned her head so that his prick could be inserted, Mitch would maneuver 
it away from her ravenous mouth. L was insane with desire and she continued 
to beg, pleading with Mitch to put it in. 

Mitch pushed her away again and again but she kept coming back for more. She 
had to have him, she just had to. Mitch began to beat her but L barely felt 
the stinging blows raining down on her. All she was conscious of was Mitch's 
prick and she continued to beg to be allowed to suck it even as he hit her. 
She wanted desperately to feel his warm, thick liquid flowing into her mouth 
and throat. 

He knocked her completely to the floor and placed his foot like a conqueror 
upon her stomach. She squirmed and tried to hug and kiss his feet and lower 
legs as they crushed down upon her. Mitch tried to squash her like a bug. 
She managed to wiggle out from under him and Mitch sent his foot smashing 
into her soft under belly. 

The sight of the pitifully suffering girl, curled up on the floor clutching 
her abdomen and cringing in pain served only to intensify Mitch's 
uncontrollable compulsion towards cruelty. He wanted to make her pay. He had 
to make her pay. He had to make her pay in blood for having witnessed his 
relapse into weakness. Mitch felt he had to expunge the memory of his 
weakness from her mind with the force of his brutality. He pulled her 
roughly up from the floor and propelled her through the bathroom doorway. 

"Where's a bedroom?" he demanded as L bounced off the wall directly opposite 
the doorway. She quickly led him down the long hallway and into a nearby 
bedroom. Mitch drove her before him as if she were a lamb. 

"Get on the bed," he harshly ordered the submissive girl who still wanted 
his sex more than anything in the world. 

There was a large mirror positioned directly over the bed. It was 
strategically stationed so that anyone looking towards it from the general 
area of the bed could see the entire surface of the huge zebra striped 
bedspread. Mitch wrung his hands in gleeful anticipation. 

At the foot of the bed directly across from the enormous mirror was a set of 
doors. They were white with inlaid gold trim and very elegant looking. Mitch 
didn't really notice as he yanked open one door and found an impressive 
array of women's clothing. He rummaged clumsily through the overstuffed 
closet until he located a rather thick leather belt. He removed it from the 
closet and cracked it in the air as L, who was eyeing him in the mirror, 
shifted uneasily around on the bed. She was anxious. 

"On your knees," Mitch commanded in a gruff tone. 

L immediately and without hesitation tucked her knees up under her exposing 
her naked buttocks in a most appealing manner. Mitch stood on the side of 
the bed near her tempting upthrust hindquarters. Cupping her entire rear in 
his left hand, he slid his forefingers into her moist pussy and sent his 
thumb up into the hot warmth of her asshole. 

L's thermal body jerked and shook violently because of the ungentle 
roughness of Mitch's dual insertions. She watched in the mirror as he 
brought the menacing belt directly above her body with his otherwise 
unencumbered right hand. Mitch strapped her very lightly across her tingling 
ass-cheeks as he massaged her twin love holes with the fingers of his left 
hand. She began to moan with pleasure as the fingers and the belt began to 
be wielded with perfect harmony and expert force. Mitch, sensing her 
inflamed body's arousal, deftly withdrew his hand and increased the tempo 
and the force of the wide stiff belt. L's body was rocking as the loud 
slapping sounds of leather against flesh reverberated through the room. When 
combined with her grimacing face and cowering body the sound of the leather 
and her sharp little cries were like music to Mitch's ears. 

As Mitch moved farther away from the edge of the bed the arc of the singing 
belt grew wider causing it to slice into its victim with greater force. Each 
time the leather strap bit into her flesh L's pain wracked body pitched 
forward and her grievously exposed ass twitched and contracted. Mitch kept 
alternating the rhythm of the flailing leather so that L, who was watching 
him in the mirror, would not be able to prepare herself by contracting her 
ass-cheeks before the belt had actually made contact. He held back several 
times, waiting for her reaction before bringing the belt down upon her 
reddening buttocks. Mitch enjoyed watching her ass twitch whenever his 
feints were successful and then bring the belt down upon her just as she was 
relaxing. They both enjoyed the game and L began to masturbate as Mitch took 
another step further away allowing only the very tip of the hard belt to 
make contact with her tender skin. 

Several times during the course of the whipping, the stinging tip of the 
cowhide belt would just touch the rosy-red ring of sensitive flesh enclosing 
her thrilling anus or the seething pink sides of her lusting pussy sending 
L's body into convulsions of pleasure-pain. She was in a frenzy of 
masochistic martyrdom as the belt repeatedly tore into her most tender 
flesh. 

Whenever a particularly well placed blow would catch her L would cry out and 
leap about on the bed trying to escape the next blow. The intense pain sent 
L so far out into the realms of celestial bliss that she could only with 
difficulty return to reality. Mitch, although on a very different plane, 
went there too. 

It was during one of these trips that Mitch grabbed her head and forced her 
once again to suck his prick. They both knew she was eager to suck it but 
Mitch went on the assumption that he'd get a higher quality blow job if L 
was coerced into it. As she sucked, L masturbated while Mitch worked the 
scourging belt over her back and shoulders. He watched her body thrash about 
as her hand tore at her pussy and her mouth drank from the implanted 
fountain of Mitch's manhood. She once again submerged herself within the 
pulsing vibrancy of the worshipped organ lodged in her mouth. 

"Suck it, you whore. You filthy bitch. Suck it till it bleeds. Rotten Slut. 
Suck it while I beat you. You like the whip. You like being beaten. Come on, 
suck it, you slut. You disgusting whore." Mitch heaped verbal abuse on her 
as she sucked and writhed under the belt. 

He disengaged her mouth as he felt he was about to come and twisted her over 
onto her back. Mitch made L beg to be whipped. She begged. He brought the 
belt down on her breasts and over her belly. He sent it smashing into her 
cunt. He grabbed her tit and twisted it violently. He sat her up with a 
solid punch in her stomach and sent her crashing back down with the back of 
his hand. He climbed up on the bed and bending her legs back upon her forced 
his throbbing spear up into her searing cunt. He mauled her with his hands 
and body. He sank his teeth into her shoulder and nearly bit off a large 
piece of flesh. She yielded to everything as if she was a piece of clay. 

They lay exhausted on the bed. L was whimpering and rubbing her sorely 
abused body. SLAP! Mitch's hand streaked across her sniveling face. 
"Shadd'up, you whore. Shadd'up before I break your head," he snarled. 

L, cowed by the fierceness of his tone, buried her face in the contours of 
the pillow. Mitch jumped from their bed, cursed her, slapped her penitent 
buttocks playfully and went looking for the bathroom. Damn if he still 
didn't have to piss. 

As he sauntered out of the bedroom, L sank her bruised body deeper into the 
soothing folds of the luxuriant bedspread. A strange feeling of serenity 
crept over her as her fingers toyed with her ravished love-box. She was 
happy as she closed her eyes and put her exhausted body to sleep. 

Mitch found the bathroom and stood over the toilet. The piss wouldn't come. 
He tightened his insides girding them up to force the urine out. They felt 
as if they were on fire. His entrails all screwed up, Mitch still couldn't 
piss. He fingered his penis absent mindedly. He thought about L. Thought 
about the house and how he was going to rob it. He thought about Holley. He 
knew he had to fuck her, too. His mind drifted from one thing to another 
with no particular pattern. It landed squarely on Stella! 

"Stella! Stella!" He'd forgotten all about Stella. That rotten whore. That 
rotten mother fucker. She was going to screw up his whole life. Miserable 
Slut. She just had to go and die. Couldn't take it, that filthy whore. Panic 
swept over him as his mind was flooded with ghastly visions of apprehension 
and jail. They must have found her by now. Were they after him? Where could 
he hide? How could he escape? Where could he go? What could he do? What 
would they think of him when he was exposed? He pissed. 

The rushing jet of water sent a burning sensation through his testicles, 
jarring him back to the general vicinity of the bathroom he was standing in. 
He watched his reflection ripple in the turbulent waters at the bottom of 
the toilet bowl. It felt good to piss, very good. "What the fuck," Mitch 
thought, "It's too late now." He'd just have to see what could be done when 
he got back. At least he might have a little bread. That rotten slut, why'd 
she have to die? Perish, that's a better word. Stella didn't die and he 
didn't kill her. She perished. She perished all by herself! Mitch was 
innocent, Stella was guilty, guilty of the crime of perishing. How could she 
have done that to him? 

Mitch felt much better as he left the bathroom and lurched down the hall in 
the general direction of the music that could be faintly heard playing in 
the distance. As he made his way, he looked in every room taking inventory 
and appraising the value of everything he saw. 

"Well, well, where have you been all this time?" Holley asked curiously as 
Mitch re-entered the den. Holley and Cathy, both nude, were sitting together 
on the white fur of the bearskin before the glowing fireplace. They looked 
very enchanting as the firelight bathed their naked flesh. Mitch had the 
acute feeling of having interrupted something. He wasn't sure what. 

"Where's L?" Cathy asked without much interest. 

Mitch mumbled incoherently and flopped down on the couch. He closed his eyes 
and waved his hand in a signal he wished not to be disturbed. 

"Wow! Your boyfriend's really grouchy. Is he always that way?" Holley asked 
Cathy. She didn't bother to answer and the two girls turned their attention 
back to themselves as Mitch dropped into a hazy sleep on the fringes of 
reality. The very last thing he thought of before sleep overtook him was 
Stella's violated body hurtling through space. 

He could hear their voices. Whose voices? Whose voices? They were coming! 
Coming! Coming for him. No! No! He didn't do it. He didn't. Didn't. Do it. 
Didn't do it. Didn't mean to do it. Didn't mean. Didn't mean to do it. Yes, 
yes. Did mean. Did do it. No! No! Didn't do it. Didn't mean to do it. Didn't 
do it. Didn't happen. Voices! Voices! Did it, did it, do it, do it, do it. 
DO It. DO IT! DO IT! DO IT! Mitch awoke with heart stopping suddenness. 

Holley's husky voice was groaning, crooning "Oh, do it. Do it, oh, do it to 
me. Oh, oh, do it, do it, do it," as Cathy was between her legs eating her 
and jamming something or other into Holley's ass hole. They'd woke Mitch up 
with the sounds they were making and for an instant, Mitch thought of 
killing them both. He would have, but he was too tired to get up off the 
couch. He just lay there and watched them. 

Holley's body was shivering from head to foot. Her buttocks pinched 
themselves tightly around a thick, black object that protruded from her 
rectum. Cathy plunged it deeper and deeper into Holley's quivering body 
while her tongue smothered Holley's palpitating vagina with sloppy wet 
kisses. Holley's hands seemed glued to Cathy's head as she pushed her 
quaking body up into her face. She kept moaning "Do it. Do it." over and 
over as Cathy worked the black shaft and her wet tongue ever deeper into 
Holley's arched body. It was quite a sight. The firelight played over their 
bodies and the bearskin added immeasurably to the erotic effect of the 
sexual games. Mitch relented and decided not to kill them. 

He roused himself from the comfortable couch and ambled over to the front 
paw of the rug. Holley watched him approach but her mind was too preoccupied 
with the pleasures of passion to acknowledge his presence. Cathy couldn't 
see him. He watched the two girls for fifteen or twenty minutes changing 
vantage points frequently so as to not miss anything. As he moved about to 
change perspective, both girls were aware of being watched. It only served 
to enhance their arousal. They made no effort to draw Mitch into their 
heated lovemaking being content to merely have him watch. They even began to 
perform especially for him. 

Mitch eventually became bored by their antics and began to order them about, 
telling them in vulgar specifics what they were to do to one another. He 
kept physically apart from them as they followed his directives to the very 
letter. After putting them through everything he could think of he staged a 
grand finale by having them spank one another soundly. After both their 
asses were beet red, Mitch, satisfied that he'd done a good job, returned to 
the couch and fell fast asleep as the two girls licked and kissed his body. 

 CHAPTER TEN 

It was daylight before Mitch awakened from his deep and dreamless sleep. He 
was still on the couch but a blanket had been thrown over him and the room 
was now deserted. The room itself looked vastly different than it had the 
night before. The dying embers in the fireplace were almost out. The room 
was totally devoid of spirit or cheer. It was downright gloomy. He tried to 
shake the lethargic remnants of sleep from his brain. 

Mitch felt strangely heavy. His head refused to clear. The murkiness 
clouding him seemed to be lodged deeper than he could ever reach to exercise 
it. "Where is everyone?" he asked himself. No sounds of life could be heard. 
The house was oppressively quiet. 

Mitch crossed the room and opened one of two glass doors that led to a small 
outside balcony. Bird chatter deafened him as the cool early morning air 
invigorated and refreshed him. On the lawn stretched out beneath him, Mitch 
caught sight of a rabbit bounding along as if on some important errand. He 
thought of the White Rabbit in Alice In Wonderland and a smile crept across 
his scowling face. How he wished he could step through the looking glass and 
into another world. He was damn tired of the one he was in. 

Well, here he was, stuck here. Stranded in a world of senseless games and 
meaningless mediocrity. His only escapes were sex, drugs, and violence. He 
was tired of all three. "What the fuck was there to do in this world?" he 
wondered. Ever since he was very little the world had confused and 
frightened him. He had reacted by becoming tougher and harder than anyone 
else, inuring his soul to the hardships and injustices that had always 
surrounded him. He had managed by sheer force of will to abolish every soft 
and tender emotion which ever assaulted him. 

Well, at least it was a new day. It might be one of the last, but it was new 
and as yet unspoiled. He might just as well make use of it. Yes, why not 
make the best possible use of it. Why not really live while he still had 
some time? Why not explode with vital life? Yes, use every minute of it. Use 
every second of every minute of every hour of every day for the whole rest 
of his life, starting today. Why not? He had nothing to lose, he'd already 
blown everything else. 

He took a few deep breaths of the crisp air, shouted an obscenity into the 
blazing newly risen sun, turned abruptly on his heel and stomped back into 
the house. He began to shout. He wanted company. He wanted breakfast. He 
wanted life. 

"Rise up. Rise up and come alive," he shouted at the top of his lungs as he 
tromped through the still sleeping house. He looked in this room and that as 
he traveled along looking for somebody; anybody! 

He finally found the three girls huddled together in one of the upstairs 
bedrooms. "Get up! Get up!" he screamed at them. He leaped on the bed as the 
three surprised girls tried to unscramble their sleep induced confusion. 

Holley was the first to pinpoint her senses and the immediate annoyance. 
"Get off the bed, you crazy mother fucker," she screamed at him. "Get off 
the bed or I'll call the cops," she said without thinking. Cops were the 
very last thing she was in any mood to see. "Get off this bed or I'll, 
I'll... " She searched her considerable repertoire for an appropriately dire 
threat. There was none. "I'll castrate you, you mother fucker," she blurted. 

Mitch roared with good-natured laughter. "You gonna bite it off and swallow 
it while you're blowin' me?" he taunted her. Cathy and L were more or less 
silent during the exchange although they both grumbled considerably as they 
wriggled around on the bed trying to avoid Mitch's dancing feet. 

He jumped from the oversized bed to the richly carpeted floor. "Get up! Get 
up, you lazy bitches," he yelled at them jubilantly. He pulled Holley, who 
was on the outside, down onto the floor. 

She struggled with him valiantly but landed, squarely on her rear, with a 
loud and jarring thud. She cursed him mightily with a vile oath but Mitch 
was already dragging Cathy out of the sanctuary of the still warm bed. She 
fell kicking and protesting Mitch's gross inhumanity in an attractive heap 
beside Holley's half-risen form. The sudden arrival of Cathy's flailing body 
caught Holley off balance and sent her reeling back down to the floor. L 
climbed hurriedly out of the far side of the bed, her small hands raised 
into the air as a signal of her surrender. 

Mitch sat down on the bed above Holley and Cathy, who were still trying to 
regain their feet, and beckoned L to join him. As she scrambled across the 
bed to join him, Mitch ordered Holley and Cathy to go and fix breakfast. 
Cathy quickly obeyed but Holley refused. 

"Who the hell you think you're talking to?" she demanded. 

Mitch stood up and cocked his fist. Holley immediately changed her tone from 
one of stubborn belligerence to one of humble supplication. Here before her 
was a real man, she thought, dropping to her knees. 

"Please let me stay. I'm sorry. Please let me stay here with you. I'll be 
good. I promise. I'll be good, please let me stay," she begged him as she 
crawled on her hands and knees to where he was standing. "Please, oh 
please," she whimpered as she cupped Mitch's balls with both her hands and 
centered her mouth over his jutting prick. 

Mitch said nothing as Holley's ripe lips closed softly around his penis and 
L, who was kneeling on the bed, leaned her body outward and began licking 
and kissing Mitch's buttocks. Holley sucked Mitch's great cock with 
admirable abandon, savoring the juices of her labors with wonder. Her tongue 
was extremely imaginative and she applied it with tremendous enthusiasm. L 
was also more than equal to her chosen chore. She had an unquenchable 
appetite. She didn't just lick and kiss Mitch's ass, she adored and paid 
homage to it. 

After a few moments Mitch decided to rearrange the scene. He ordered L to 
quit licking his ass and lie down on the bed face up. She just kept right on 
lapping, she hadn't heard him in her passion. He told Holley to stop 
sucking, she also ignored him. He was about to climax and he didn't want to. 
He wanted to live a little more. He slapped Holley and disengaged himself 
from her vampiric mouth and deprived L of his rear end. He repeated his 
earlier instruction to L, who quickly complied by flipping eagerly onto her 
back as Holley remained heartbroken on her knees before Mitch's rigid prick. 

Mitch straddled L's face so that his ass covered it completely, so 
completely that L could scarcely breathe. He had Holley kneel over L's 
outstretched legs and allowed her to resume sucking his prodigious 
projectile as L raised one knee up between Holley's legs. L made contact 
with Holley's cunt as she simultaneously reached her arm around and grasped 
the root of Mitch's dick just below the working mouth of Holley. L tried to 
work her hand in unison with Holley's pumping head and mouth, following 
Holley's lips as they traversed the length of Mitch's shaft. Her own mouth 
and tongue covered Mitch's ass, her tongue darting into his bunghole as her 
knee rubbed Holley's pussy. Holley's fingers sought out and penetrated L's 
already sopping wet and still lubricating vulva. The three of them went at 
it in earnest and after Mitch had drained himself by squirting his semen 
into Holley's willing mouth, he removed himself and allowed the girls to 
fuck one another while their merged mouths passed his man-juice back and 
forth between them. 

"Breakfast's ready!" Cathy's voice drifted up to them from downstairs. 

Mitch waited patiently for Holley and L to untangle and then accompanied 
them into the long hallway that ended with the stairway. Holley dropped off 
to go into the bathroom. L didn't bother. She didn't want to let Mitch out 
of her sight. They arrived in the kitchen holding hands and giggling like 
naughty schoolchildren. Cathy wasn't in the least annoyed as they both 
ignored her and sat down to a table liberally heaped with steaming food. 

Cathy didn't care that Mitch didn't notice her. She was happy because he was 
happy. That was all she really needed. She loved him unselfishly, body and 
soul. She lived in him and through him. She had no other reason to exist. 

After a few satisfying mouthfuls of the hot food, Mitch realized that Cathy 
was wearing an apron that left all of her sexual apparatus clearly visible. 
He contemplated her lush ripe body as he ate. "Cathy's really beautiful," he 
thought to himself and he wondered why he so seldom noticed how beautiful 
she really was. In a rare moment of tenderness he complimented Cathy on both 
the high quality of the food and upon her striking appearance. 

Cathy, taken aback by the unusual sentiments, hoped Mitch was not sick or 
something. She hoped fervently that this was not another prelude to Mitch's 
fantasy trips. 

Holley entered, still undressed, and positioned herself directly in front of 
a large tray piled to overflowing with toast, pancakes, bacon, and eggs. 

"Where's the grapefruit?" she demanded of Cathy. "I want grapefruit!" she 
said emphatically. "Why didn't you prepare any grapefruits? I always have 
grapefruit in the morning." Her tone was harsh and stern. "What kind of a 
stupid girl are you anyway? Don't you know enough to make grapefruit? What 
kind of a girl have you got there, Mitch? Doesn't even know enough to 
prepare grapefruit." 

Mitch, noting Cathy's apprehensive glances at him, ordered her to get some 
grapefruit and bring them to him. He seemed totally emotionless. 

"I'd beat the piss out of her for that if I were you," Holley told him. She 
really wanted to goad Mitch into beating Cathy. The grapefruits didn't mean 
a damn thing to her. She wanted Cathy to have a beating and she wanted Mitch 
to do it. She didn't know why. 

but she knew she wanted it. 

When Cathy returned to the table with a half-dozen neatly sliced 
grapefruits, she expected the worst. She expected a beating, if not from 
Mitch, then surely from Holley. She trembled as Mitch calmly ordered her to 
place the grapefruit before Holley. Holley glared at her as she set them 
down. Mitch got up very slowly from his chair. 

"Well, what are you waiting for. Go on and eat them. Eat them all, you pig!" 
Mitch snarled at Holley. 

Cathy was overjoyed by Mitch's seeming vindication of her while Holley's 
eyes flared in anger. Aghast and confused by Mitch's hostility and the 
ruination of her plan to have Cathy beaten, Holley picked up the tray and 
heaved it in Mitch's direction, scattering the intended repast not only on 
Mitch's person but upon everyone present. 

Mitch reacted like an enraged bull. Holley realized, too late, that she had 
gone too far. With a single bone jarring yank, Mitch snatched the cowering 
girl from her perch and hoisted her into the air. His balled fists covered 
her entire body with massive blows. Blood spurted from her mouth and nose. 
She was screaming in terror as Mitch, sparing no part of her body, 
relentlessly pummelled her. He pounded her until she was as yielding as hot 
wax. Her body was as limp as a rag doll's as Mitch knelt over her and 
smashed the back of her head into the cold hard tiles of the kitchen floor. 
The horrible picture of his insanely contorted face was the last thing she 
saw as she finally lapsed into merciful unconsciousness. 

She'd ruined his day. She had ruined his whole new beautiful day. The dirty 
bitch. He'd kill her for that. She'd ruined his whole concept of his new 
day. She'd pay for that. She'd pay and she'd pay plenty. Mitch made a 
conscious and irreversible decision to kill her. He was going to kill her 
and have fun doing it. He began to think of the many ways he could do it. 

Cathy and L stood staring at the bloody scene before them. Transfixed by 
terror, they made no move, no effort to help Mitch's unfortunate victim as 
she lay under him. Mitch was just calmly sitting on top of Holley's listless 
body. He wasn't doing anything, nothing at all. He had a far away and dreamy 
look in his eyes. 

Tears were streaming down L's face and she didn't dare to make a single 
move. Cathy was also scared but she approached Mitch cautiously from behind 
and placed her hands gently on his head. She wanted to bring him back, to 
return him to his senses. "Mitch. Mitch," she crooned softly. 

Mitch turned on her savagely. She had interrupted his vision of Holley's 
body hanging from a meat-hook like a side of beef in a butcher store. He was 
furious. He pounded her with his fists as L looked on in helpless terror. 
Cathy made futile efforts to defend herself against the force of Mitch's 
flailing hands. He kicked her and smashed her into the wall. Cathy bounced 
off and Mitch picked her up into the air and threw her completely over the 
kitchen table. In a seething rage, his mind beyond reach or control, he 
began to choke her. She sobbed and pleaded for mercy but no longer tried to 
defend or save herself. Her head rolled to one side as Mitch, realizing for 
the first time since he'd attacked her that it was Cathy, released his grip 
on her throat. He had no wish to kill Cathy. She hadn't done anything. 

L, finding her legs, ran from the room. Mitch, seeing her exit, pursued her 
and brought her down with a well executed flying tackle in the dining room. 
They struggled briefly, but L was no match for the street fighting outlaw. 
She sought to save herself by offering to do anything if he would spare her 
and let her live. She thought Holley was dead and Cathy either dead or very 
near it. She had never been exposed to anything like it before and she was 
totally devastated by it. 

Mitch, exulting in the female's obvious dread of him, thought about killing 
her but decided that she might come in handy. She was too good in bed for 
him to kill her. He made her tremble by pretending that he intended to kill 
her. She made one outrageous offer after another in an attempt to interest 
him in sex and prolong her life. The idea of having sex with him appealed to 
her, no matter what form it might assume. L would much prefer to die having 
sex than to be strangled unceremoniously under the dining room table. She 
asked Mitch very seriously if he would have sex with her if he decided to 
strangle her on the spot. Mitch laughed at her and pulled her to her feet. 

L followed him as meekly as would a lamb being led to slaughter by the Judas 
goat. Her body shook uncontrollably. She felt giddy and nauseous as she 
entered the kitchen and caught sight of the two battered girls lying on the 
floor in grotesque positions. 

Holley was absolutely motionless, but Cathy, although her body remained 
inert, was sobbing softly. Mitch bent down and helped her up and into a 
chair. The look in her eyes said unmistakably that she forgave him. She 
could forgive him anything. Mitch, looking deep into her reddened and watery 
eyes, saw very clearly that he could do anything he wanted to do to her. 
Even if he killed her, Cathy would forgive him. She'd gladly kill herself if 
it would make Mitch happy. She kissed his belly as Mitch turned his 
attention to Holley's dormant form. 

"Get some rope," he ordered L who was simply standing there waiting for 
direction. "We're going to tie Holley up," Mitch added as she hastened to 
obey. She didn't understand why Mitch should want to tie up a dead person, 
but she wasn't about to argue with him. Mitch followed her to make sure she 
didn't try to get help or run away. He knew that Cathy would stay put in the 
kitchen. After some diligent searching, they found some heavy rope and 
returned to the kitchen. 

Mitch bound Holley's wrists and ankles with the thick rope and dragged her 
out of the kitchen by her feet. He took her into the den, the same room 
where they'd stripped and watched the previous night's movies. L and Cathy 
followed Mitch and their hog-tied sister into the room very timidly. They 
were afraid. Mitch was not himself and they were unsure of what he was 
planning to do. He seemed completely detached, almost trancelike. His eyes 
had a half vacant and faraway glint. Mitch dragged his heavy burden without 
seeming to be aware of his surroundings. He had no difficulty at all as he 
dumped Holley's body in front of the fireplace. He stood silently over her 
quiet body for a long time. He reinforced his decision to kill her. 

Mitch ordered L to fetch some water and she promptly left the room. He 
didn't bother to go with her since he was positive that she was too 
frightened to do anything or call for help. He had Cathy assist him in 
Holley's preparation without informing her as to his intentions. As there 
was no fire in the fireplace, Mitch set about to build one while his mind 
examined the pros and cons of the various methods that might be utilized to 
bring about Holley's death. Above all, he wanted it to be slow and painful. 
He weighed the possibilities of alternate plans of action as he tinkered 
with the fire and Cathy positioned Holley's body for the coming ordeal. As L 
returned with water, Mitch flashed that he'd probably have to destroy her 
also. While Cathy could be relied upon to help and keep quiet, L would 
undoubtedly go to the police. Mitch didn't really want to kill her but if he 
had to, he would. He'd wait and see how it went. Maybe she could be spared. 

"Wake her up," Mitch commanded and after a few moments of intense effort, 
Cathy and L managed to revive the girl by slapping her face and pouring the 
water over and into her. Holley came to, sputtering obscenities, in complete 
confusion as to what had happened or what was going on. She didn't know how 
she had gotten into the den. The last thing she could remember was Mitch, 
insane with rage, battering her head against the floor. Her head still hurt 
like hell. 

"Shut up," Mitch told her as he continued to manufacture fire by engineering 
the logs he tossed into the firepit. 

Holley, fully conscious, struggled vainly against her bonds and pleaded with 
the other girls to let her go. When this failed, she demanded to be 
released. She began to scream to be untied immediately. 

"Shut her up," Mitch ordered. 

Cathy picked up a blouse from the pile of clothes that had been left 
scattered where they'd been shed the night before. She ripped it into strips 
and fashioned it expertly into a gag. L assisted Cathy by holding Holley's 
tossing incompliant head still while Cathy inserted the gag. L felt like a 
traitor but she was too afraid to do anything else. 

Holley continued to twist and squirm about on the floor as Mitch approached 
and stood over her with a burning firebrand in one hand. The smouldering tip 
was red hot. He passed it back and forth over her body about one quarter of 
an inch from her flesh never allowing it to actually come in contact. Holley 
wriggled to avoid it. Her voice was not completely baffled by the gag and 
her muffled cries made Mitch horny. His prick jutted prominently out in 
erection. He threw the burning stick away and slammed his foot into her 
side. 

She wrenched her body in agony as Mitch's foot found her tenderest places 
again and again. The unclad girl writhed about like a fish floundering out 
of water. Mitch would pause, then bring his foot down again. 

 CHAPTER ELEVEN 

Tiring of this sport, Mitch commanded L and Cathy to sexually arouse his 
bruised and suffering victim. His two accomplices teased their female 
counterpart's sex organs with tongue and fingers. They tried their very best 
to make Holley insane with passion and she soon began to respond. Because of 
L's and Cathy's quite considerable expertise, Holley was groaning and trying 
to maneuver her hot and juicing fur-box into the most exposed position for 
the probing fingers and tongues which delightfully accosted her. Her eyes 
were half closed and she was going mad with resistless desire as Cathy and L 
deliberately and purposefully tormented her insatiable capacity for sex. 

Mitch ripped the gag from her mouth and knelt beside her. He led the panting 
girl's mouth into his bulging membrane. Holley began to suck it furiously as 
Cathy's tongue finally sank deep into her succulent and lusting snatch. In 
spite of her hatred of Mitch, and the suffering she'd been forced to submit 
to at his hands, Holley simply couldn't resist the overwhelming desire to 
taste his come. Bound and tied on the floor, two girls licking and kissing 
her abused body. Holley sucked Mitch's cock with a passion that was enhanced 
by her debased position of grovelling subservience to his whims and 
caprices. 

"Suck it, you bitch. Suck it good, 'cause when you're done I'm going to kill 
you." 

Holley didn't believe him and all she could think of was her own body and 
Mitch's throbbing dick. As she drank from the fountain of his manhood, she 
felt his manly power coursing through her pain and passion wrecked body. He 
ejaculated a large supply of his semen into her thirsty mouth and she gulped 
it hungrily down. As she swallowed, she had a tremendous orgasm that left 
her trembling for several long moments after Mitch had withdrawn. She rested 
as Mitch waved L and Cathy away from her slack and shaking body. 

Mitch procured his belt from among the piles of clothes strewn about the 
room. He stood quietly over the exhausted and unsuspecting girl. Holley had 
her eyes closed and her face was a mask of tranquil serenity. It wasn't 
until she'd calmed her body that the belt caught her directly in the labium. 
She arched her body upward from the floor in a surfeit of intense pain. The 
belt, buckle end, returned swiftly to bite into her abdomen and send her 
screaming back to the floor. Terrified out of her wits by the sudden and 
vicious attack, she screamed in agony and begged for pity. The slicing belt 
only came faster and faster and with ever increasing force as Mitch ignored 
her pleas. 

"S-Stop it. S-Stop it right now. L-Leave h-her alone," L's quavering voice 
came from behind him. 

Mitch turned to confront her with murder written in his eyes. He was greeted 
by a small, .25 caliber automatic pistol, cocked and pointed at his head. 
L's hands were shaking but she meant business. Without thinking, M itch 
lashed out with the belt and instantaneously charged her, throwing L off 
balance with the suddenness of his reaction. She managed to fire but the 
bullet whistled harmlessly past Mitch's head and into the wall. It 
splintered the wood as it landed with a dull thudding noise in the wall of 
the lavish room. It made a tiny black hole surrounded by powder marks. 

Mitch's right hand cracked into L's head before she had a chance to rejoin 
her balance. There would be no second chance as Mitch wrested the gun from 
her hand and tossed it to Cathy. He cursed and literally propelled L through 
the air as he pounded her body with his angry fists. He was incensed by her 
seeming audacity. She had actually tried to kill him. Of all the mother 
fucking nerve! 

"Get more rope," he yelled at Cathy. 

"Where is it?" she asked plaintively, glad that Mitch was still alive. 

"Look for it, you stupid slit!" Mitch roared back at her. 

He held the limp and unresisting L by the hair, dragging her about the room 
with him as he wandered about without any apparent purpose. Holley was still 
screaming so he reinserted the gag in her mouth. Cathy returned with several 
pieces of rope. 

"What're ya gonna do?" she asked Mitch apprehensively. Cathy was just as 
frightened as either of the two girls lying side by side on the floor. 

"First I'm gonna whip the shit out of them. Help me turn them over." 

Cathy helped Mitch turn L and Holley on their faces. She didn't want any 
part of what was happening, but she felt she had no choice. She had no 
desire to be thrown on the floor with the others. If she protested that was 
exactly where she would end up and she knew it. The gun she still had was 
absolutely of no use whatsoever. She could never bring herself to shoot 
Mitch. She loved him much too much for that. She just had to go along with 
him, no matter what. 

Mitch, standing alongside the prone and struggling girls, began to whip 
their asses with the heavy buckle end of his wide garrison belt. He'd hit 
one, then the other, and then both at once tearing the flesh off and cutting 
deeply into their ass-cheeks with unbounded brutality. Crimson rivulets of 
blood trickled onto the floor as he gouged their buttocks without pity. His 
victims' half-throttled screams filled the air as the biting buckle rent 
their cringing flesh. 

His arm sore, Mitch paused long enough to turn the girls over again and 
splash water on them. He didn't want them to pass out. He wanted them to 
feel every lash. He removed the gags and listened with glee to their 
pleading wails for mercy. They both offered to do anything, anything he 
wanted if he would only spare them. The girls were desperate to escape 
further beating. Mitch snickered at their displays of cowardice. He almost 
decided to untie them so he could put them through their paces when he 
changed his mind. He smashed the buckle across their breasts, bellies and 
into their cunts sending the girls into fits of useless struggling and 
screaming. They thrashed about in mortal panic, trying desperately to avoid 
the stinging lacerating tip of the cold steel belt buckle as it tore into 
their burning flesh. There was no escape. 

The sight of the two women fighting the tight bonds in their frantic efforts 
to avoid the inflamed tip of the fiery lash, instilled Mitch with a feeling 
of unrestricted power. He could do anything he wanted to them. There was no 
one to stop or hinder him. The girls were totally at his mercy. He had to 
stop whipping them as gales of mirthful laughter swept over and consumed 
him. He couldn't control it. His sides were bursting as he fell and rolled 
on the floor laughing uproariously at the girl's plight. 

He could do anything he wanted to. He was God. He was omnipotent. He was God 
and could do anything he wanted. The thought that he was God and could do 
anything he wanted except stop laughing was in itself funny to him. He 
laughed and laughed at the contradiction. He was out of breath and choking 
before he finally overcame himself. It was still funny. 

He lifted Holley up off the floor and carried her to an upstairs bathroom. 
Placing her strapped and bleeding body into the oversized tub, he turned the 
hot water spigot on full blast. Thick clouds of steam rose into the air as 
the jet of scalding hot water cascaded from the faucet head. His hapless 
victim screamed as the water splashed and rose all around her. She pleaded 
with Mitch to let her out as he laughed at her. Her mind balked and she 
fainted before the water was even halfway up her beaten, ravaged body. Mitch 
lifted her from the tub and carried her into a bedroom where he tossed her 
unconscious body onto the bed. He went back downstairs to fetch L. 

L was lying face up, battered and bleeding. She looked up at Mitch with wide 
and piercing eyes that cried out from the very depths of her soul for pity. 
Her voice cracked and barely audible, she implored Mitch to spare her. Mitch 
said he would spare her if she would drink his piss and she nodded her head 
eagerly. He knelt besides her face and she took his organ into her mouth. He 
pissed. 

"Now you need to take a bath," he told her as his urine dribbled from the 
corners of her mouth. He picked her up and carried her upstairs into the 
steam filled bathroom. L gasped in horror when she saw the bathtub was 
filled three quarters of the way up with scalding hot water. 

"Oh no, please. You promised. Please don't. Please. PLEASE!" she screamed as 
Mitch held her above the water. He dipped her body into the water twice 
before he finally just released it, allowing it to be immersed in the 
swirling, seething, near boiling hot water. She was gurgling water as she 
tried to scream. Her body was lobster red as she sank to the bottom of the 
tub and thrashed about like an eel. In a very few and agonizing seconds, her 
tormented body ceased to function. She was beyond pain. She was dead. Mitch 
watched her until the end and then turned and went into the bedroom where 
Holley was lying on the bed. He didn't even bother to shut off the still 
running water. 

He called for Cathy, who'd remained downstairs, to come and join him in the 
bedroom. Holley, fully conscious, was lying trussed up and had heard L's 
pathetic screaming. She asked Mitch what he'd done with her but Mitch made 
no reply. Instead, he untied her and then rearranged the ropes until she was 
again tied, only this time, she was tied securely to the bed face up and in 
spread eagle fashion. Her legs were spread so wide that they cramped as 
Mitch made fast the bindings. Holley passed out and Mitch went into the 
bathroom to get water. He checked on L, who was lying dead at the bottom of 
the tub. She was lying face up and the look of sheer horror frozen on her 
face made Mitch shudder with pleasure. He had really given it to her. He had 
taught her the ultimate lesson. He shut off the overflowing water and drew 
some cold water from the other tap. He was humming to himself as he returned 
to the bedroom and used the water to revive Holley. 

"Eat her," he ordered Cathy to give her something to do. 

As Cathy climbed onto the bed between Holley's outstretched legs, Mitch 
unplugged the light by the bed and tore the wire from the base of the lamp. 
He very carefully parted the cord, stripping them of their rubber coverings 
to reveal the tips of the two copper wires. Holley's eyes followed his every 
movement in terrible anticipation of his intention. She couldn't even feel 
Cathy's tongue working inside her torn and bleeding vagina as she repeatedly 
asked Mitch what he was going to do. Her pain was already immense and she 
was sure she was doomed to die even if Mitch did nothing else. 

"What is he doing?" she wondered to herself as she watched him approach with 
the wires in his hands. 

Mitch had plugged the wire back into its original socket and had the bare 
wires in his hands. He was especially careful to hold them around the 
insulation so as not to get shocked. Cathy was engrossed in her task so 
Mitch didn't bother to warn her. Holley's eyes grew wide with terror and her 
mouth open in a soundless scream as Mitch slowly, very slowly, lowered the 
bare wires until they made contact with the bare flesh of her taut nipples. 
She and Cathy were both victims of the tremendous surge of power unleashed 
by the completion of the electrical circuit of which they had become an 
integral part. Cathy couldn't disengage her mouth for almost a full second 
as the current passed through her body. 

Holley's body grew rigid and seemed to rise vertically off the surface of 
the bed in spite of the restraining ropes. 

Cathy jumped from the bed, dazed and shaken. There was no escape for Holley. 
Mitch picked the wires up, allowing her a short respite, only so that he 
could watch the horror in her eyes as he lowered them slowly down again. He 
did this over and over and each time, he left them on her nipples a little 
longer. 

Finally, becoming bored by her lessening reactions, he unplugged the wires, 
shoved them carefully up into her cunt, and plugged them in again. Holley 
screamed as the current pulsed into her body. Mitch took Cathy by the hand 
and led her downstairs. He didn't bother to unplug the wire. 

 CHAPTER TWELVE 

The couple rode back to New York in Holley's sleek Continental in complete 
silence. Mitch felt good. He felt clean. He felt relieved and strangely 
satisfied. He knew only very vaguely that he had killed both Holley and L. 
He didn't think about them. He only thought of how good and clean he felt. 
Their deaths had purified and cleansed him. Their sufferings had elevated 
him to godlike stature. Mitch was happy and invincible. He felt secure for 
the first time in many, many years. He was no longer afraid. 

There was one little detail that had to be straightened out, though, one 
more thing that Mitch had to do before he could feel secure and safe in the 
knowledge that he was God and nothing could hurt him. One little thing... 

"Where we goin', Mitch?" Cathy asked, as he wheeled the car off onto an 
overgrown dirt road. "Where we goin', huh?" 

"We're going to make it, kid. We're going to really make it." 

Cathy snuggled up against him, purring, as Mitch banged and slammed the big 
car through ruts and bumps and over fallen logs with no regard for it at 
all. He figured the car could take it. He wouldn't need it, after this. The 
road got worse as they drove around several curves. They'd gone about three 
miles when they finally lost it altogether in the weeds and undergrowth. The 
silence was complete, when Mitch turned off the engine. 

"Take your clothes off," he said. 

Cathy complied eagerly, slipping her sweater up over her head. Mitch pulled 
out his Zippo lighter and flicked it on and off, thinking that some secret 
might be hidden in the blue and yellow flame that he could find out if he 
only stared long and hard enough. 

"I'm ready, Mitch," said Cathy, sitting back on the seat, spreading her legs 
and exposing her big, hairy cunt. 

That's what he didn't like about women, he realized: they had cunts. Cunts 
were disgusting. He'd been inside one of those things once, trapped inside 
it, floating in a mixture of blood and goo and slime, helpless, and these 
damned broads were always trying to get him back inside of them. Ugh! They 
smelled like fish, and they were all wet and soft, and they pissed out of 
them. What could possibly be more disgusting? 

"What's the matter, Mitch?" asked Cathy, anxiously searching his face for a 
sign. 

"Your cunt makes me sick," said Mitch. "It smells like old fish." 

Cathy pressed her legs together. She lowered her head, sobbing. That was 
another reason he didn't like them. They were illogical. You made a simple 
statement of fact, and they took it personally. 

"Thank God you got a mouth and an asshole," said Mitch, trying to patch it 
up slightly. 

Cathy smiled, brushing the tears out of her eyes. "Thanks, Mitch," she said. 
"I thought maybe you didn't love me no more. You want to fuck me in the 
ass?" 

"No," he said, getting out of the car and slamming the door. He lit a joint 
and smoked it for a while, laboriously demolishing an anthill with the toe 
of his boot and watching the ants freak out. That was the world. He was God, 
and that was the world. Cathy got out and came up beside him, pressing her 
nude body against his muscular arm. God didn't need no nude broads rubbing 
their smelly cunts against his jeans when He was destroying the world. He 
knocked her down with a short, savage chop to the jaw. 

She lay there for a while, looking up at him with glazed, slightly unfocused 
eyes, rubbing her jaw. 

"You want I should blow you?" she asked. 

"No," said Mitch, and he gave her a vicious kick with his boot, right in 
that smelly cunt of hers. It made a squishy noise. Cathy tried to scream, 
but her lungs seemed paralyzed. She opened her mouth wide, heaving 
convulsively, and then she threw up, disgusting him even more. 

He opened the trunk of the car. He found just what he needed. Everything 
seemed to be going right for him today. Holley apparently had carried her 
torture equipment around with her, so she wouldn't get caught short if the 
opportunity to torture somebody came up. She had chains and whips, and a big 
thick rope, and some pieces of clothesline of varying lengths. Mitch 
wouldn't need anything more exotic than the rope and the clothesline--and, 
he decided, the bumper jack. 

He took these things back to Cathy and bound her arms securely behind her. 
He tied the rope tightly around her waist, and tied the other end of it to 
the bumper of Holley's big Lincoln. Then he tied the bumper jack to her 
right ankle. There was no point in making things too easy for her. 

She was out cold while all this was going on. Blood ran out of her cunt, and 
she lay in her own puke, another example of how disgusting broads could be, 
he reflected. He took out his Zippo and held it under one of her strawberry 
red nipples. Her eyelids fluttered. She woke up fast. She screamed and 
screamed, trying to writhe away from the flame that was .blistering her tit, 
turning it black. Mitch finally flicked it closed. No point in wasting 
lighter fluid. 

He pulled his cock out of his pants and stood over her. He spread his booted 
feet wide over her squirming body and began to jerk off. Nothing but the 
pure, clean air was good enough and clean enough to receive his seed. He 
didn't need to stick it in smelly cunts, or mouths, or assholes. He jerked 
it faster and faster, and finally it jetted out an arc of ropy semen that 
splashed onto Cathy's bosom and ran down her belly. 

"There, kid," he said, zipping his pants. "That's all you're going to get." 

"Mitch--Mitch--what are you doing? It's me, Cathy--remember? I'm your girl, 
Mitch, I love you, I helped you back there, I'll do anything you say, go 
anywhere you want--Mitch, for God's sake, DON'T DO THIS! I LOVE YOU!" 

Mitch slammed the door and turned on the air conditioning to drown out her 
noise. He looped the car around and started off down the road at a fast 
clip. The car banged and slammed violently at first, then suddenly all was 
calm. 

Mitch smiled serenely. No car could get the best of old Mitch, who was 
really God in disguise. 


THE END
