17
One of the members of the Council was in real estate, and he supplied
them with an apartment where they could keep her for the two weeks in which they
were to have the ownership of her. She was not sure what her status would be
after that, and she was afraid to ask.
The apartment was large and luxurious, a penthouse duplex. They stocked
it with plenty of food and drink, and with Joyce. She could not leave. There was
a guard outside the door, twenty-four hours a day, whose sole duty was to see
that no one but the Council members went in, and that she did not go out. There
was no telephone. And there were no clothes, not even the ones she'd worn that
first night. They kept her naked, all the time, naked and ready to receive them
whenever they appeared.
She never knew when one or two of them might drop in during the day,
demanding her services. She might go the whole day without visitors--although
this only happened once or twice--or she might be kept busy all day long,
servicing five or six of them as they dropped in whenever they had the chance
and the inclination. But the evenings were the worst. In the evenings they would
gather together, most if not all of them, and stage a repeat, with variations,
of the scene in the meeting room, until she was so exhausted that she could
hardly move. But she had to be good for them. If she showed the slightest sign
of slackening, of not putting everything she had into her performance, they
would punish her.
Not that they did to her what Collins had done; although the threat of
that, or of their calling him in to deal with her if they weren't satisfied, was
always in the air, and kept her obedient. But they had no qualms about being
rough with her, and some of them seemed to get especially aroused by spanking
her, or hurting her while they took her. They never forgot why they were doing
this to her, never lost their anger at her for trying to destroy them by
exposing their dishonesty.
One day near the beginning of her period of servitude, Trifford had
appeared at the apartment, along with another councilman, George Kalinkos, the
real-estate man. Trifford was surly and scowling, evidently upset because of
some business deal that had gone badly. He dropped moodily into a chair and
ordered Joyce to fix him a drink. She did so, self-consciously, feeling the eyes
of both men on her naked body. Even after all the things she had done, she could
still not escape the feeling of shame at having her nakedness so casually
exposed to the gloating, lustful eyes of the men.
Kalinkos sprawled on a sofa as Trifford sipped his drink, his gaze
travelling over the girl's enticing body. She stood waiting for orders, knowing
she would have to do it with both of them, the only question being which way
they wanted her this time. Which openings they would use. In which position. And
whether they would take her separately or together.
But Trifford was looking at her now with something more than plain lust
in his eyes, something that made her fearful. "You're a real sexy piece, all
right," he rasped. "But you're too smart for your own good. Women like you
should stick to fucking and making babies, not go around messing in things that
are none of your business. You damn near ruined us, you little bitch. You tried
to take us down. We've been so busy fucking you, we haven't really dealt with
that, now have we?"
Joyce swallowed. "I--I apologized," she forced herself to say. "I'm
sorry. I--I retracted the story. I'm sorry."
"Maybe that's not enough," Trifford said. He put his drink down and
stood up. "Come here, Joyce."
She was trembling, but she made herself move toward him. She was within
arm's reach of him when he told her to stop.
"You fucking busybody whore," Trifford snarled. "That's what you are. A
fucking busybody whore. Aren't you?"
"I--I--"
"AREN'T YOU?" Trifford demanded loudly.
Joyce looked at the floor. "I--Yes."
"Yes, what. Tell me. Come on, tell me. Say, 'I'm a fucking busybody
whore.'"
"I--I'm--" She swallowed hard. "I'm a fucking busybody whore."
"Right," Trifford said, and raised his hand and slapped her hard across
her left breast. She screamed and reflexively brought her hands up to cover her
bosom.
"Put your hands down, Joyce," Trifford said. "Down, I said. That's
right. Now. You're also a dirty nosy cunt. Isn't that right, Joyce?"
"Please..."
"Tell me, Joyce."
"Yes... please..."
"Yes, what, Joyce? Say it."
"I'm a--a dirty nosy cunt."
Trifford slapped her with his other hand this time, hitting her right
breast. Again she screamed, and again her hands came up automatically.
"I told you to keep your hands down, Joyce. Didn't I tell you that?"
"Yes," Joyce said. Slowly, she lowered her hands. "Please..." she said.
"Please what?" Trifford said.
"Please don't hit me any more."
"No, Joyce, you don't understand," Trifford said. "If I want to hit you,
you don't ask me not to. Because if I want to hit you, that's what you want,
too. Isn't that right?"
"I--"
"Isn't that right, Joyce?"
"Y-yes..." she whispered.
"Right. So don't ask me not to hit you, Joyce. In fact, what you should
do is just the opposite. You should be asking me to hit you, because that's what
I want to do. So do that, Joyce. Ask me to hit you."
Her eyes widened. She looked up at him, then down again.
"I'm waiting," Trifford said.
Her voice shook badly. "Please... please hit me..."
He did, slapping her left breast again, even harder this time. Her legs
buckled, and her hands came up on their own before she could think to stop them.
He slapped her face.
"You don't listen, bitch," he snarled. "George. Come here and hold her
hands for her."
Kalinkos rose from tbe couch and came over. Standing behind the girl, he
seized her wrists in his hands and pulled them sharply backward, holding them
tightly and twisting her arms up just hard enough to make her cry out. The
position arched her back and thrust her shapely breasts outward toward Trifford,
as if inviting his punishment.
"That's better," Trifford said. "Now ask me again, Joyce. Ask me to hit
you again."
"Oh god..." she moaned, and Kalinkos twisted her arms harder. "Aahh! No!
Hit... P-please hit me again..."
Trifford did. Her breasts were red with the marks of his hands.
"So," Trifford said. "We agree you're a fucking whore and a nosy cunt.
What else? How about a shit-eating slut. Are you a shit-eating slut, Joyce?"
"Yes..." she gasped as Kalinkos twisted her wrists again. She was
sobbing.
"Tell me."
"Ohh... I... I'm a shit-eating slut..."
Whap! across her breast. She shrieked.
"And a slimy little cocksucker," Trifford said. "Say it!"
"And a--" She could hardly speak. "--a slimy... little cocksucker."
Whap!
"AAAHHH! Stop! Please stop! Please!"
"And a piece of rotten shit," Trifford said. "Say it!"
"I can't! Oh, Jesus... AAAAHHHH!" Kalinkos had pulled her arms high up
behind her back, until she was forced up onto her toes to relieve the pressure.
"All right! All right! I'm--a piece of rotten shit!"
WHAP!
Joyce was screaming and sobbing hysterically, her body twisting and
jerking in Kalinkos' tight grip. Trifford watched her for a few moments, until
she had quieted enough to hear him.
"Now, cunt," he sneered at her. "You get this straight, you hear? When
you go back to that rag you work on, you write nothing but good things about us.
Right? All about what great civic-minded guys we are, how good we are for the
city and all that stuff. That way we won't have to deal with you again. You got
that, Joyce? You understand?"
"Yes..." she gasped out. "Yes... yes..."
"Good. Now I want you to do something for me right now, Joyce baby. I
feel like having my ass licked out. I want you to do that for me. I want you to
lick it out real good, get it all clean and shiny. You'll do that for me, won't
you, Joyce?"
Her face twisted with a mixture of disgust and despair which she could
not control, but her hesitation was brief. Not only was she at the mercy of the
two men and their punishing hands, but somewhere out there was Collins, with his
whip, and his cigarettes, and--
"Yes..." she choked. "Yes... anything..."
She ended up doing it for both of them. They both stripped, and they
took her into the bedroom, and Trifford knelt on the bed and Joyce knelt behind
him. Trifford reached back and pulled his buttocks apart to expose his anus.
"Now do a good job, Joyce baby," he said. "I want to feel your tongue right up
in there. I want to feel you swabbing me out like a Roto-Rooter. Let's go."
With Kalinkos looking on, ready to twist her arms again if she didn't
perform satisfactorily, Joyce forced herself to do what she had to do. Bending
down, she brought her mouth to the hairy cheeks in front of her. Her quivering
tongue crept out, touched the waiting flesh, licked reluctantly, and then, at
his urging, began to probe.
She did a thorough job. He kept demanding that she push deeper, until
her tongue ached at the roots. She jammed it in as far as she could, and then
followed his instructions as he commanded her to twist her tongue, to lick him
out, to thrust back and forth as though her tongue was fucking his asshole. All
the while she felt sick, and tears ran down her face. But she did it.
After a while he ordered her to reach around him and stroke his pulsing
cock at the same time. She tried to do that well too, and at last he pulled away
from her and turned around. "Keep playing with me, baby," he panted. "And use
both hands. No, keep your face right where it is." Her face was just in front of
his cock, and she realized what he wanted to do, but she didn't move away. Her
hands stroked him and caressed him, faster and faster, until he stiffened and
groaned, and strong jets of come spurted from his cock and splashed onto her
face, hitting her eyes and her mouth and her cheeks, spurt after spurt until it
was over.
He wouldn't let her wipe it off.
Then it was the other man's turn. Kalinkos was not as clean as Trifford,
and he smelled. The odor from his unwashed anus nauseated her, and when she
began to lick him, the taste of him was too much, and she had to run into the
bathroom to throw up. She was afraid they would punish her for that, but they
just thought it was funny. They just made her continue where she had left off.
She gagged and she retched and she had to work very hard not to throw up again,
but she probed and licked and finally tongued him cleaner than he had probably
been for a long time. She stroked his cock too, and when he was finally ready
and turned to her, he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her face to him,
ramming his cock into her soiled, gasping mouth. He exploded almost immediately,
and she retched again as she was forced to swallow his filth-flavored come.
Then they were finished with her--for the moment. "By the way," Trifford
said as they were dressing to leave, "we'll be coming back tonight, with the
rest of the boys. All of us. We'll be coming over kind of early, so we'll want
something to eat. There's plenty of food here, you can cook dinner for us." He
grinned at her. "You can be dessert," he said.
