She'd forgotten about the parole, about the possibility of being sent back to the State Home for Girls. By the time Daddy found her – getting it out of Lew: beating him up some, she suspected – the grumpy old man she was supposed to report to each week had already signed the recommitment papers. Daddy was furious with her. But after the initial scolding and a kiss to make up, he suggested she hide, and go away to an aunt's home out of the state until she was eighteen. But that was no good, either, because the aunt was Mummy's kid sister, and she suspected there was more than blood ties involved in the summer vacation relationship.
"It won't be so bad," she told Daddy. "I know most of the girls, and – well, I don't know."
"Four years," he whispered, crushing her to him, tenderly patting her bottom. "They can keep you till you're an adult. It's my fault, honey. I shouldn't have whipped you that night. I wish… Goddammit, I wish we could turn the clock back. All the fucking way back to the day Lew and Penny Ogden told those lies about you in court."
Wendy rested her head on his chest, listened to his heart thump, and thought about what he'd said. It was almost a month since she arrived at the house and met Miss Alberta. A grueling month of fucking and sucking every way imaginable. A month of shame and wonder. She was exhausted, and needed a place to rest and think out the mixed feelings. She needed the home, she decided; it was a place where she could sit and evaluate the past.
"Four years isn't so long," she said at last. "At least I'll be grown up. There won't be any more parole, and then we – well, you and I…"
She looked long and lovingly into his tortured face. He wanted her, she thought, wanted to take her right there in the whorehouse. He was almost crying, and sorry, and worried sick, she could see. Still the hand on her ass was exploring, tracing the crack between her melons. The prick in his pants was growing, arid in another minute he'd have her bent over the foot of the bed.
"Then we can do as we please," she finished, pushing him away. "Me, you, 'n' Mummy. It'll be fun waiting for."
The State Home hadn't changed. The red bricks were still gray, and the halls still smelled of pissy disinfectant. The dorms were drab, and the girls still pushed mops that left muddy streaks on the scuffed floors. She was greeted at the door to the strip-frisk room by Crazy Inez, who, because the matron was watching, merely wagged a wet tongue suggestively over thick, painted lips.
"You know the routine," barked the same tank like creature who'd dug rough fingers up her pussy on the fateful day more than a year ago. "Take it off, honey. Strip."
Without hesitation, Wendy peeled. The tips of her breasts hardened as the nylon panties slipped from her hips, exposing the little red triangle that held the answer to all the confusion inside her head. She bent forward, spreading her cheeks, the hot blood of lust gushing into her pussy as the matron stepped close. She watched between her legs… watched the fingers. Then she bucked – purposely impaling herself on the inquisitive darts, sighing.
The ugly old woman seemed pleased. But she was one of the secret dykes, and the fingers remained only a second longer than was necessary to ascertain that there was nothing hidden up the tight niche. Then she stepped back. "Put some clothes on yer ass," she snapped, feigning indignation.
Wendy grinned. Everyone wanted her: men and women, young and old. Her little red bush was the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. She stepped slowly back into her panties. Glancing shyly over her shoulder, she watched the matron lift a hanky to her pug nose, pretending to blow as she drank the wet cunt juice from her hand.
Doctor Bruce was next. She was so anxious to get there – but only to "talk" to him, she told herself she almost tripped while entering the office. He was slouched behind the desk, just as she'd seen him the first time. She grinned. Without having to be told, she quietly closed the door and moved to the deep leather chair opposite where he sat.
"Well now," said the doctor, eying her in that same horny way she remembered. "Another one of my girls come home for a visit? They always do, you know. Once they get a taste of our hospitality, they just can't seem to stay away." He sank into the chair, apparently expecting an explanation.
Wendy was beginning to wonder why men wasted time with innuendos, and then, after the clothes were shed, why they changed so much. It was fun talking about one thing and meaning another. Like the word taste! She knew what that meant; she knew that out of sight under the desk the doctor's ramrod was growing, that he was remembering how her lips had chopped down on his knob. But there were other things on her mind: psychiatry! He was the only one she knew of to ask about the mix-up inside her small, troubled head.
"I… I came back because – well, me 'n' Daddy 'n' Mummy… and then Lew and the whorehouse and Gus, and the others. What I mean is, I don't really know actually how it all happened." She looked helplessly into his thick glasses, where the two Wendys tugging her this way and that were reflected.
Sitting far forward, the doctor braced his forearms on the cluttered desktop. "What you're trying to say," he offered in a low, soothing voice, "is that you had to come back because of what was done to you here… in the dorms… in this office."
"No!" She frowned, trying to put her thoughts into words and coming up with nothing. "I… I don't want to, then I do, and it's simply awful, is what."
"Oh?" The doctor's glasses slipped low on the bridge of his nose. His watery eyes blinked at her.
"Sex!" she supplied, fidgeting. Even saying the word made her cunt wet. But that wasn't the bad part. The worst thing about it was the horrid acts men made her perform, and the agonizing fact that she loved it once a big, stiff cock was fucked up one of her hot, hairy holes. Tears of confusion flooded her eyes. She set her small jaw, and sat up tall. "How come I like it when I really don't?" she blurted.
The doctor extended a bony hand toward her. Hesitantly she reached, allowed the long fingers to close tight around hers. She didn't resist when he coaxed her out of the chair, and around the desk. She saw the bulge in his pants, the hungry look magnified by his glasses. He indicated his lap with a nod. She chewed her lip, stared for a moment, and sat.
For the next half-hour, Doctor Bruce filled her head with the technical explanations for perverted compulsions. Sex was for the female a basically masochistic act, he explained. And for a man, any man – even her wonderful daddy – a degree of sadism was as natural as feathers on a duck. She thought that was cute, and told him so. He replied by hiking her dress up, cupping his hand at her pussy, and saying that was cute too.
There were too many big words to remember, and some of it was confusing still. But she was beginning to understand that pain and shame – even shitting the bed, as she'd done with Lew – was to her, to her makeup, her psychology, as necessary to achieving an orgasm as was the need to have a man toy with her titties. Doctor Bruce demonstrated by pinching her nipple so hard it brought fresh tears to her eyes, and more juice to her cunthole. He then stroked her bush, as he might have done to a small pet. That was nice. But when he took firm hold of the hair, trying to pull it out by the roots, it seemed that the thrill which followed the pain was ten times more exquisite.
"D-Does that mean I… I'm sick?" she whispered, opening her legs for his fingers and sucking one, two, three bony lengths up her twat.
"Sick?"
"Ummmmmmm!" Her voice quivered almost as much as her clit. "Am… am I one of them whatyamacallits? You know!" She tapped the side of her head, wiggled, and pulled the last of the four bony darts up her smoking cunt. "D-Does it mean I'm one of those girls in high leather boots and like that?"
Doctor Bruce laughed. "It means whatever you want it to mean, young lady. Some dig whips. Do you?" He lifted her dress high, to her waist, gripped the tender flesh of her belly, and squeezed and squeezed.
Wendy's eyes opened wide and her jaw dropped. She squirmed in his lap, noting the degrees of sensation: first the unbearable agony, then the slight tingle, then the magnificent electric thrill flooding her loins. It was true! The other Wendy was a girl who demanded beatings and hurt, welts and red bruises, degradation that left her so sore and exhausted that the healing power of cum washed through every pore, every nerve ending. That fucking became more than a mere cock up her belly; and orgasm, she and a man cuming together, was a religious experience as sacred as the resurrection.
"Enough psychology," said Doctor Bruce. "Your mouth's been much, too busy talking. What it needs is something to suck on – a lolly! Remember?"
Did she ever remember! She remembered too that she didn't like doing a blowjob. But all that was different now. Now she knew that not liking something made the things she did like so much better. It made fucking that much more wonderful when the cock finally crept in. It made her cunthole sing, her ass chum and dance. Like a nimble ballerina she leaped from his lap, and knelt. She unzipped his fly, and her hand dove inside, captured his rod, and exposed the fat purple glans for her eager, wet kisses. "Lovely lolly," she cooed, forming a wide "O" with her lips, breathing moist warmth on the thing that resembled a ripe plum. "Make your big lollipop pop off in my mouth – dear, dear Doctor Bruce."
Moving to the edge of the chair, the doctor placed one hand at the back of her head, the other at the roots of the stiffness bobbing so close to her face. "This'll do you absolutely no good," he told her. "This time you'll have to serve the rest of your sentence. There's nothing I can do. Nothing!"
"Oh, but you're wrong," countered Wendy. "You've done so much already."
"Me?"
"Yes…" She swirled her wet tongue over the tip of his cock. She licked the stem – up and down. She circled the fat jacket of skin marking his circumcision, and eyed the speck of lint trapped in the tiny pisshole. One flick disposed of the intruder; the doctor's hips shot forcefully forward. "You made me stop feeling dirty about sex," she added. "Now I can do anything. Even this." Again she opened her mouth, forming the cocksucker's "O". She let it slowly down over the cockhead.
"Ohh! Hee! Oh!" Like a tall comical jack-in-the-box, Doctor Bruce went rapidly up and down in the seat. The hand at the back of her head pressed down. "Oh, my dear girl," he sighed. "Yes. Ah, yes, suck it in. My! Wonder of wonders – a self-educated lolly-licker, you are."
Wendy barely heard the words through the roar in her head. She was busy trying not to gag, trying to breathe through her nose and think only of the good fucking to follow. She didn't know why it had to be this way, why she was what she was. She supposed all that had happened, her introduction to sex, was the basis of her uncontrollable drives. She sucked noisily, from deep in her throat. She braced herself between his long, gaping legs, inhaled, and let the hand at the back of her head push her lips all the way down.
"Ahhlihhhh!" Doctor Bruce slumped in the chair, letting his prick soak. His fingers moved affectionately through her hair. "Play with my nuts," he whispered. "Take the poor things out of hiding, dear. Make them happy."
Wendy complied. Looking up, watching his face contort with the wonder of her sucking, she reached inside his fly and hefted his sacs. The pants were in the way. Holding him in one silky palm, she undid his belt, opened the pants wide, and freed the rest of his sex. The glans of his dick throbbed at the back of her throat. Still she went further down, her lower lip turned outward to wash the wrinkled flesh in her hand.
"Ah. Ah!" Doctor Bruce bucked and thrashed, jarring her head, mashing cockhair into her face.
Was he cuming already? wondered Wendy. Was she that good? She lifted her head, watching the slick cylinder cum slowly, smoothly out of her face. She sobbed. Again she gobbled it down, loving the way he groaned and trembled.
Suddenly Doctor Bruce had both hands at the back of her head. "Oh yes! Oh, yes, yes! Ah! Suck it! Don't stop… suck it all!!"
He was indeed cuming, filling her mouth and throat, pumping cream into her gullet with all the force in his loins. She gulped. Kneading his balls, she closed her eyes and imagined how good it would be the next time – up her tight pussy! But it was good now, she realized, amazed. It was suddenly the most marvelous cum in the world. It tasted of salt, and of piss, and of thick, curdled milk. And she was drinking it down without gagging; sucking him off without shame; eating and adoring every inch of his meat, wanting more.
When at last it was over, when the doctor had taken his cock out of her mouth and she was once again settled in his lap, he hugged her and kissed the last cumdrops away. She rested her head at the crook of his shoulder, waiting, too expectant to speak or think or do more than pant for the half-hard thing swelling again beneath her.
"That was spectacular," he choked at last. "I don't believe there's a girl in the place who was ever so good." His hand returned to her thigh; slowly it inched up. His fingers met the legband of the baggy drawers, now sopping wet with her juices. He pushed them aside, returning to the task begun earlier.
Even his fingers felt better now. It was as if the suck off had sensitized the hair follicles, and the hidden root of each pussy curl was another clit. Sighing, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, she moved sensuously, a sitdown belly dancer, bringing him up hard again with the soft halves of her bottom.
"I think it's time we took these off." Doctor Bruce's free hand went to the waistband of the drawers. He inched them down her round, restless hips.
She lifted, first one cheek, then the other, making it easy for him. The veiny shaft of his dick settled in the pinched crack of her ass, and the tip throbbed at her asshole. Her sphincter breathed to take him in, to cheat her eager cunthole. "Hurry," she gasped, shifting again, bringing her vulva within reach of the fat dickhead she'd mouthed a moment before.
Rearranging her legs, thighs gaping wide at either side of his, the doctor took firm hold of his rod and steered the head to the hot, pink gash in her belly. He slouched down in the chair. "This what you want?" he asked in a strained voice, fucking the knob in. "Up… ummm! Up here?"
She couldn't answer; she couldn't do more than mumble incoherently, and sob, grinding down, wiggling to take the rest of the stiffness in.
The doctor's hand covered her pussy. His fingers hooked at the top of her slit, stretching her turning the puffy cunt lips outward to expose her tight channel. His big prick went slowly up, up.
"Hurt me," Wendy heard herself say. "Pinch my ass. Hit me. Hit me!!"
The doctor grunted obscene laughter. Gripping a fistful of tender thigh flesh, he squeezed until the mark of his fingernails were imprinted on the smooth surface, until she whimpered. Then he opened and lifted his hand, and brought it down with a loud smack! Again and again, the sound reverberating through the office, making her reddened thighs quiver like Jell-o. His thumb and forefinger became a giant ant's pincers, nipping her buttocks, leaving cuts like teeth marks, some oozing blood. All the time he was humping, driving cock up her forebelly, planting his long, rigid member in the satiny depths of her pulsing vagina.
Wendy closed her eyes and was back in the room at Miss Alberta's place, with Lew punching her thighs. Now the pain was exquisite, a raging flame in her cunthole bringing on orgasm. The hurt wasn't hurt any more. It was like when she was little and didn't like milk and slowly, as she grew older, the taste seemed to change. The creamy white fluid got good. So good she couldn't stop drinking it. Like the good cream she'd sucked out of Doctor Bruce's huge, hairy cubes. Like the jism she'd taken from Daddy, Lew, and Gus and the others at the whorehouse. Like the stuff in the front seat of the car, from the man who raped her the same night Larry tricked her up to the point for the surprise gang-bang. So good! Better than anything – every stiff prick that had planted cum in her guts…
Suddenly Doctor Bruce stood, taking her with him, bending her over the edge of the desk. "Lovely!" he proclaimed, his hands allover her plump, uptilted ass, his dick soaking, savoring her sweetness.
"Oh…! Go in 'n' out," breathed Wendy. "Don't stand still. Fuck! Fuck out my pussy. Do it. DO IT!" She thrust back, grinding against his coarse cockhair, her cunt ablaze with desire. Now she wanted his cream. God! she thought, head spinning, there was nothing she wanted more – not Daddy, not freedom, not anything.
The doctor began to screw, slowly, making her crazy with longing. His fingers crept up to the top of the dress bunched at her waist. One by one, taking his time, making her beg and thrash on the desktop, he undid the buttons. He worked the garment off her shoulders, and undid the snaps holding her bra. Her titties leaped free, hanging down like ripe honeydew melons. His hands crept over her ribs, tickling, making her suck huge draughts of air while waiting for the nails, the talons at the end of his long, bony fingers, to close on her taut, hungry nipples. She felt his lips at the nape of her neck. "Tell me what you want me to do," he hissed. "Say, 'Squeeze my little-girl nipples, Doctor Bruce!' Say, 'Play with my boobs while you fuck me!'"
She repeated the words – adding some of her own, not sure any more what she was doing or saying. She was sure only of the ache in her loins; the need, the command being shouted by the other Wendy. She felt his hands cup her breasts, the palms rubbing, agitating the peaks. She felt his dick begin to dip, pulling back until the fat head almost jumped free, then gliding – so smoothly, so swiftly, as if it were made specifically for her little pink hole – back in up to the hilt. She felt his nuts slapping her upturned ass, his pants and cockhair and shorts – she couldn't tell which any more – bruising the plump, satiny cheeks. And inside her she felt the fulfillment: multiple orgasm. She was cuming all by herself, two, three, five times. More! So many more she lost count.
And it was only the beginning. By the time Doctor Bruce climbed the mountain, reaching the place she'd arrived at minutes before, her cunt was so wet, her body so sated, so limp and exhausted and used, that she barely noticed the cumload dripping down the inside of her trembling thighs. She was lost in a place drenched in bright flashes and thrills. She and the other Wendy were merging, becoming one. The "good girl" was being interred, put to rest beneath the truth about herself; beneath the need to be defiled, to be taken by force and hurt and abused.
"Fuck me!" she cried. "Hurt me! Beat me! Rape me! Do it some more!"
"Okay, you horny bitch. I'll do whatever you want, just give me the word. I'm no one to deny a woman what she wants in the way of sex, believe me!"
"No, no, I know you wouldn't… oh, Christ, do it, stick it to me… yes, yes, yes! Deep! Fuck me! Rape me! Hurt me, hurt my pussy, make it sore, make it feel this cock of yours for days and days – I don't care."
Her orgasm was still rising; going up like a rocket ship through the clouds of her dizzy brain, making her whole body spin with the wonderful thrill of it.
The doctor made a concentrated effort to stay with it for several more minutes, pumping, pumping away, wildly, in and out, back and forth, not letting up for a moment, stabbing in and out, back and forth, again, and again, till they were both totally out of breath. But still they continued, reaching another point of ecstatic communion, the sensations of orgasm rushing in and out of their every nook and cranny, setting them on an intense path full of screams and scratches and writhing movements from side to side.
"Ohhhhhh! Ahhhhhhh! God, God, it's too much, too fucking much! Yeeeeeeeee! Yes, yes, yes!"
It was still far from over. Her endurance was incredible. She could fuck for hours more, and if he couldn't hold up then she would find somebody else.
"Yes! Fuck me!" she screamed. "Don't stop! Don't ever ever stop!"
"I won't… unless I have a heart attack," said the doctor, with a trace of reality to his sarcasm. After all, he had never been with a lover who was so demanding. And she was that, and he hoped he was up to the challenge.
So far, his dick was holding up rather well, staying stiff deep within her cunt, moving back with the precision and strength of a piston.
In and out, back and forth, again and again he charged through her quaking loins.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" she screamed. "I'm starting to come again, Doc, I am, I am! Ahhhhhh! Don't stop! Don't ever stop, you wonderful man of medicine! Yeeee!"
"Ohhhh! I can't stand it! I'm going crazy! I'm going out of my fucking mind!"
Pounding, slamming, ramming in and out of her pussy. Again and again, on and on.
It seemed to both of them that it would never end. And it almost never did.
But when it did, they were both totally gone for days to come.