Wilhelm Franz-Ruller saw the two girls standing in the middle of the road, waving their arms at him. Automatically he put his hand to the horn. They jumped quickly back to the verge as he swept by them.
He put his foot quickly on the brake. He had seen that they were very beautiful. He had also seen that they were both wearing leather jackets, and he had a strong perverted fetish for leather jackets that were worn by beautiful women. With no memory of his decision of a few minutes ago not to take chances with hitch-hikers, he put the car into reverse and backed towards the bridge.
The girls picked up their ruck-sacks and opened the doors of the Rolls. The red-head got into the front, the blonde into the back. They disposed their ruck-sacks on the other end of the back seat.
"Thank you very much," said the red-head in German. "You are German, aren't you? You have a German number."
"Yes," said Wilhelm Franz-Ruller, his eyes on their leather jackets, "I am German. But you are not, huh?"
"No, we are Swedes. And we don't speak German very well."
"You speak it beautifully."
"Thank you, but that is not true."
"Where are you heading for?"
"Kiel."
He made sure that their doors were shut, and drove off again. "How nice for me. I am going to Kiel, too."
They drove for some time in silence. Then: "Are you going to Kiel for a holiday?" he asked.
"A sort of holiday," answered the blonde, from the back of the car. "A friend of ours is a governess there."
"A governess? With which family? Perhaps I know them."
"A Swede called Per Petersen. Do you live in Kiel?"
"Yes. And I know Per Petersen. His wife died six months ago."
"That was when our friend became the governess of his children."
"I see. Yes, I remember something about that. How curious our meeting like this."
"Yes, isn't it?" said the blonde. "Will you forgive me if I speak to my friend in Swedish? I find it rather a strain to go on in German."
"Of course. Please do so."
"Do you speak Swedish yourself?"
"Unfortunately not."
The blonde crossed her legs. "Fortunately," she said in Swedish, "not unfortunately. What do you think of him?"
"Very nice," said the red-head. "Young, tall, handsome. Yes, nice."
"Very nice indeed," said the blonde, drawing her breath through her lips. "I want him." The red-head turned quickly in her seat. "No! For God's sake,-get a hold on yourself. Don't be stupid. This is our ride to Kiel, without any further trouble."
"I want him," repeated the blonde stubbornly. She drew the pistol out of her pocket and covered it on her lap with her hands.
"Are you completely off your head?" said the red-head angrily. "Put that thing away. Do try to control your damn nymphomania!"
"I want him," said the other again. She spoke in a voice that was almost without expression. "And you can do to him the things that you like doing."
"I don't want to do anything to him at all."
"Don't you? What about that lovely whip in your bag that's crying out to be used? And what about the dildo?"
"You really are absolutely mad! Don't you remember? You told him where we're going. You told him we're going to Per Petersen's house to see Margarete."
"So what? Don't you want to use your lovely whip?"
"Oh, for Christ's sake! I couldn't now, even if I did want to. He knows who we are."
"No, he doesn't. He doesn't know anything about us, except that we're friends of Margarete. And that doesn't prevent us having him, does it?"
Wilhelm Franz-Ruller cleared his throat. "You seem to be quarrelling." He took out his cigarette case. "Do you smoke?"
The red-head took two and handed one to the blonde. "Thank you. No, we're not quarrelling. We're just having a difference of opinion."
He produced his lighter. His eyes were on her jacket as he lit her cigarette. She passed it to the blonde and took back the unlighted cigarette. She tent her head again to light the second cigarette. "That's a very beautiful coat," he said.
"Thank you," she said, and smiled suddenly. "But I wonder why you say so. There's nothing very special about it. It's just a leather jacket."
"It's a very beautiful one," he said. He wished he could run his hand over its surface.
She stared quizzically at him. Then, slowly and deliberately, she put her hands flat upon the surface of the jacket above her breasts. She let them remain there for a moment and then she drew them downwards towards her stomach. "If you don't look where you're going," she said, "we're going to have a nasty accident." His eyes had been fixed upon her for some seconds.
He jerked his head back to the road.
"Fortunately," she said, "it's a fairly empty road. But you must keep your on eyes on it-and not on my jacket." She paused for a moment. "Have you a fetish for leather?"
He seemed to swallow. "A fetish for leather? No, of course not. What do you mean?"
She chuckled, and turned her head to the blonde. "All right," she said, in Swedish. "I'm with you, you nymph! Let's have him, and to hell with everything else."
"I was hoping you'd see reason," said the blonde coolly. "But I don't understand why you change your mind just because he's got a fetish for leather."
"Nor do I. But I'm all for it now."
The blonde uncovered the pistol that had been hidden in her hands. "And what about all your objections because he knows who we are?"
"As you said, he doesn't know who we are."
"Exactly. And Margarete can't be made to suffer for what her friends may or may not do."
"No, of course she can't." The red-head seemed to tremble suddenly. "How are we going to do it?"
The blonde said: "You just leave it to me." She raised the pistol in her right hand and put its muzzle lightly to the ear of the driver. "Do you feel this?" she asked, in German. "Don't turn round."
He turned round immediately, as he felt the cold steel against his ear.
"I said that you must not turn round," said the blonde. "Look in front of you. Do you want us to have an accident?"
"What do you want?" he said, his voice showing the fear that had struck to his bowels at the sight of the gun.
"Just do as you're told, and everything will be all right."
"But, damn it all!" he began to bluster. "You can't get away with-"
She pressed the pistol harder against his ear. "Just do as you're told."
There was a silence for a few moments. Then: "If you want money," he said, "I'll give you what I have. I'll give it quite willingly. But do please put that pistol away. It makes me nervous."
The red-head laughed. "That's very nice of you. But we don't want any of your money."
"The car, then?"
"Neither the car. What should we do with a car like this?"
"What do you want then?"
She cupped her hands to her leather-covered breasts again. "You'll find out soon enough."
"Now, in fact," said the blonde suddenly. "Turn off the road there at that lane on the left."
"Oh Christ!" murmured the man, and put his foot to the brake. He was remembering again the story of the Swiss business-man. But these were girls, he told himself. There must be some other reason for their wanting to turn into a side lane.
He swung the car into the lane, and proceeded slowly.
The blonde looked about her. "Yes," she said. "You see those woods up there on the left. Drive up there."
He began to feel sick with fear. "Why? Why do you want to go up there? What are you going to do?"
She chuckled. "What I'm going to do to you myself may be rather pleasant for you. You'll probably like it very much. What my friend is going to do to you is quite a different matter."
"What are you going to do?"
"I?" She drew on her cigarette. "I'm going to let you make love to me."
He turned his head again. "You can't be serious."
"Look in front of you. Yes, I'm quite serious."
"But you don't have to pull a gun on me to make me do that. It's a wonderful idea."
"Good. I'm glad you think so. But the gun makes sure of everything. I didn't want any argument. And a man sometimes does argue very stupidly when a girl makes a pass at him. He likes to be the big he-man and make the pass himself."
The red-head interrupted. "My friend, you see, is a nymphomaniac. Anything in trousers will do very well for her. The fact that you're presentable makes things a good deal better-but I don't think it would have made any difference if you'd been a dwarf."
"I see." He was silent for a moment. "She said you're going to do something different."
"Yes."
"What are you going to do?"
"Whip you," said the red-head simply.
"What?"
"I'm going to whip you."
"Why?"
"I'm a sadist."
"Good God!" The fear, which had begun to recede, now flooded back. "'Good God! I've heard of women like you."
They had reached the edge of the woods.
"Drive off the road," ordered the blonde, "and find some secluded spot."
"But," he protested, "look at that ground. It'll ruin the car. It'll break a spring or something."
"Not if you drive carefully. Go on. Do as I say. I don't want a car like this standing at the side of the road and bringing the whole countryside snooping around."
He looked for the most even surface, and slowly drove the car off the road. It bumped up a small incline and was soon inside the woods.
"Stop here," said the blonde. "This'll do very well." She held out her hand. "Give me the car-key."
He took the key from the dashboard and handed it to her silently.
"Thank you," she said, and opened her door. "Come on. Get out, and meet your fate." She looked at the red-head. "Why don't you tell him what else you're going to do to him?" She continued to speak in German.
The red-head shook her head. "Let him find out, after his whipping. Do you want him first?"
"Yes, please. But there's no reason why you shouldn't stimulate him a bit while he's doing it."
"No, there isn't. I'll give him quite a stimulation, too. The red-head was out of the car too, and was fumbling with the zip of her ruck-sack.
The man watched her with narrowed eyes. He thought he knew what she was looking for, and tried to persuade himself that he was wrong. When she drew a long coiled whip and several lengths of rope out of the rucksack he felt sick and cold. "For Christ's sake," he said, "you're not going to use that, are you?"
The red-head uncoiled the whip. It was about a metre in length. "Yes," she said silkily. "What else?"
"Get your clothes off," said the blonde.
"Now, look!" he protested. "This is all going too far. I'd love to make love to you, both of you-but please put that whip away. I'm sure you're not serious."
"No?" said the red-head softly. She raised the whip and brought it down hard across the front of his legs. He yelled with pain. "What would you say now?" she asked. "Am I serious or not?"
"Yes," he gasped. "But please don't be."
"That's better. Now get undressed. Quickly."
"We'll have to gag him," said the blonde. "That noise could be heard a long way away. What'll happen when you really start?"
"Yes," said the red-head. "We'll gag him." She put her hand back into her ruck-sack and took out a pair of silk stockings. "These will do very well."
He stood there watching her, wondering what to do. He could quite easily overpower them if he chose his moment carefully. He turned his head to the blonde. The pistol was still in her hand.
"I think I know what you're thinking," she said. "But I'll shoot you if you make any trouble. Not to kill, of course. But I'll shoot you in the leg or the foot. And I'm quite a good shot. Look down at that leaf beside your left foot."
He looked down at the leaf.
She pulled the trigger.
He jumped at the unexpected noise. A small round hole appeared in the centre of the leaf.
"Do you see what I mean?" she said.
The red-head said angrily: "Are you crazy? Do you want to bring the whole neighbourhood? For God's sake don't use that thing just for the fun of it."
"You're right," said the blonde. "Sorry. The sooner we get him tied up the better."
"Will you please-?" he began.
"No," said the red-head. "We won't, whatever it is. Now get undressed, damn you." She swung her whip again. It cracked across his shoulders. He gave another yell. "Quickly! Come on, strip!"
He drew a quick breath and began to take off his clothes. When he was naked, the red-head put down the whip and took a length of rope in her hands. She went behind him. "Put your hands behind your back." She tied his wrists expertly. "That's better." She looked at the blonde. "Now you can put that damn gun away."
"All right," said the other, and put the pistol into her pocket. She undid the zip of her jeans and pushed them down to her ankles. Stepping out of them, she said: "This ground is a bit rough. We'd better have a blanket or something." She turned to the naked man. "Have you got one in the car?"
"Yes," he said, his eyes on her shapely legs. "In the luggage compartment."
"Where's the key?"
"It's open."
She went to the back of the car and fetched a rich-looking plaid rug. "You must be quite well-off," she said, as she spread it on the ground. "Everything you have is very expensive. Who are you?"
The red-head stooped and took his wallet out of the jacket he had thrown to the ground. She opened it and took out a card. "He is the Baron Wilhelm Franz-Ruller of Koburg-See. Hmmm. Is he, indeed? It's the first time I've whipped a baron." She put the wallet back into his pocket. She picked up the whip.
The blonde lay down on the rug and wriggled out of her pants. She held up her arms. "All right, my baron. You can come and excite me now."
"Wait a minute," said the red-head. "I must gag him first."
"Not yet, for God's sake. I need his mouth too."
"Yes, of course. But he's going to make a lot of noise."
"Don't whip him too hard, then. Just stimulate him a bit. In any case I don't want you whipping him into impotency. Wait till I've finished. You can gag him afterwards when you start on him yourself."
"All right," said the red-head. She swished the whip through the air. It made a fearful seething noise. "But don't take too long."
The man gazed at her in awe. He had till that moment been half-hoping that she was not serious about whipping him, that she had only been trying, for some reason or other, to frighten him. Now he saw the look in her eyes as she swished her dreadful whip. It had a terrifying light of calculated cruelty. He watched her draw the whip slowly, almost caressingly, through the fingers of her free hand. His faint hope died away. He shivered.
He looked wildly around the clearing, pulling at the ropes that bound his wrists. They did not give as much as a millimetre. He wondered whether he should run for it. He was so frightened that his nakedness did not matter in the least. But he doubted whether, with his hands tied behind him, he could run faster than the girls. He would probably lose his balance and trip. And then what would this terrible girl do to him with her whip? Anger would be added to calculated cruelty. And yet… if he could reach the road… and start shouting… Somebody might-just might-be within earshot. But then, what about the gun? Would the blonde dare to do as she had threatened? She had proved she was a good enough shot, but surely she wouldn't dare…
The red-head seemed to read his thoughts. She picked up another length of rope. "It would be most unwise to try to run away. But you're probably frightened enough to try it. So I'll just tie your ankles and make sure of you. I don't want that damn gun being used." She moved beside him, looped the whip round his neck, and stooped to his feet. She quickly tied his ankles tightly together. "Now you'll have to jump when you want to move." She stood up and took the whip back into her hand.
"Come on, come on!" said the blonde, from the rug. "What are you waiting for?"
He turned his head and looked down at her. She had let her arms fall to her sides. She had opened the front of her suede-leather jacket and her silk blouse. Except for a tiny brassiere she was naked underneath them. She wag very lovely. He caught his breath sharply and felt desire flood through him. Momentarily he forgot his fear of the other girl and her whip. He gazed at the blonde hair of the mound, and at the long shapely legs stretched lazily out on the rug. And he gazed at the soft suede-leather jacket and wished his hands were free to touch it. His penis began to grow.
He made a number of small hops until he reached the side of the rug. He bent his legs and knelt. "It's damned difficult with my hands and legs tied like this."
"Never mind. Come on. Put your mouth to my breasts." She put a hand to the brassiere and pulled the breasts free. They were large and firm.
Still kneeling, he bent his body downwards and* put his lips first to one and then to the other.
She put up a hand and took hold of his penis. Due to his condition of fear it had been only half-erected. Now, at her touch, it grew to its full erected size. She caressed it lightly and then let her fingers play delicately with the bag of his testicles. She began to breathe in quick gasps.
The red-head also began to breathe quickly as she looked at the man's kneeling posture, his head down to the blonde's breasts and his bottom high up and tightly stretched. She drew her whip through her fingers again and moved into position a few feet away from him, on his left. She raised the whip slowly to the height of her shoulder, poised it there for a second as she took careful aim with her eye, and then brought it down quite lightly across the exact centre of his buttocks.
In spite of the relative lightness of the lash, he jerked upright as though he had received an electric shock. He had been more surprised than hurt, for he had temporarily forgotten about the whip. "No!" he exclaimed. "No, no!"
"Yes!" said the red-head, and struck him again in the same place. "But what are you complaining about? These are loving caresses."
"Damn you!" said the blonde. "Get your head down here again. Don't stop like that. I'll thrash you myself if you stop again. Get down here. Lie down over me." She pulled hard on his penis.
He rolled heavily over on to his side and straightened himself over her body. He wriggled himself downwards until his lips came again to her breasts. He opened his mouth and sucked a nipple on to his tongue.
The red-head changed her position and struck again with her whip. He gave a flinch but did not move his lips. He instinctively thrust his bound hands downwards as though to protect his buttocks. The next lash caught him across his knuckles. He quickly took his hands out of danger; the pain to them was worse than the pain to the muscles of his bottom.
The blonde was gasping again. She put her hands to his head and pushed. "Go down to my fanny. Lick my fanny."
He obeyed at once, receiving two more lashes before he was in position. He put his face to the silky blonde hairs of her mound. She opened her legs, lifted them over his shoulders, and then closed them tightly against his head. She took hold of his hair with both hands and pulled it, forcing his face closer to her vagina. She began to utter long moans of pleasure.
With his tongue he felt for the lips of her vagina. He licked them up and down lightly at first and then, as his passion mounted, roughly. He twisted his jaw against the pressure of her legs and took the lips in his teeth. She gave a little cry. He moved his head down a little, buried his nose between the lips and thrust his tongue into her passage.
The whip continued to lash across his buttocks. He found that the pain was not by any means unendurable. He would not have said it was pleasant, but it gave a stimulation to his passion. He wished his arms and legs were free. He would not now have run away. He would have used them to improve the efficiency of his love-making. It was a pity, for instance, that his fingers could not be playing with her nipples.
The red-head went on swinging her whip quite lightly, but she felt no interest, no excitement. She wanted to hit with all her strength. Then she would feel the savage uplift of delectability, the straining rapture of pure pleasure. She wished the blonde would hurry up. She tried not to look at the naked back of the man, with its weal across the shoulders from the hard lash she had given him before he undressed. She knew that she would not be able to control herself if she looked at it. Its expanse of unwhipped flesh would magnetise her too much. She would be forced to give at least one hard lash across its centre, and that would assuredly reduce his erection to immediate limpness. And that would mean that the blonde would take even longer to finish.
The man was beginning to feel a good deal of discomfort from a lack of sufficient air. The blonde's legs gripped his head ever more tightly as her excitement mounted. He tried to lift his head for a second, but found it firmly locked into its position. The blonde looked up at her friend. "I've forgotten a french-letter. Be a dear and get one for me, will you? I don't want a baby."
"Are you ready to have him?"
"Almost."
The red-head went to her ruck-sack and took out a small packet. She came back to the rug and tore off the silver paper. She put the rubber to her lips and blew gently. The teat filled up at once with air. "Yes," she said. "It's all right."
The blonde opened her legs. She sighed deeply. "That was very nice. Now turn over on your side for a moment."
He did as she said.
The red-head looped the whip round his neck again and knelt to put the letter on his now gigantic penis. She gave it a small slap with her palm.
"Wet it a little, please," said the blonde.
The red-head worked her tongue to gather some saliva, and then spat into her palm. She rubbed the moisture over the tip of the rubber. "Right," she said. "You're ready." She took the whip back into her hand.
"Hutch up, then," the blonde said to the man. "And make it very sweet for me or I'll make it very painful for you afterwards."
"Can't you untie me?" he said.
"No. I like the idea of your being like that. Come on, hutch yourself up." She opened her legs.
With some difficulty he moved himself jerkily into position over her. She took his penis in her hands and guided it to her vagina. His penis grew even larger under her touch. He felt it nose against the mouth of her passage. He pushed. She was tight. He pushed again.
The red-head raised her whip. "I'll help you," she said softly. She lashed again across the buttocks, but this time the lash was considerably harder.
He flinched violently with the pain, and cried out for the first time. His flinch drove his penis deep inside the blonde. She flung her arms around his neck and sank her nails into the flesh of his shoulder-blades. She gave a cry of pleasure.
He withdrew a little, preparing to make another natural thrust with his hip muscles. He buried his head into the leather of her jacket.
The red-head struck again, as hard as before.
His flinch made the thrust for him. He felt he had never before been so far inside a woman. He realized that his penis was fully engulfed.
Another hard lash showed him he was wrong. It went even further inside the passage. He left it where it was, waiting for the next lash. He felt it could not possibly go any deeper.
The lash showed him that he was wrong again.
He began to realise why so many men willingly submitted to a thrashing while making love. Without the stimulus of a whip nobody could ever penetrate as deeply as he had now done. He found, too-much to his surprise-that the pain was becoming less unbearable with each lash. His bottom felt as though it was on fire, and white-hot needles seemed to be stabbing at its nerves-but there was at the same time a suggestion of pleasure beneath the pain, some hitherto untasted pleasure which he realised was quite extra, which had no direct relation to the ordinary joy of love-making, and which was caused by the now-agonising, now-stimulating, lashes of the whip. He began to withdraw and thrust with his hip muscles now, but he timed his thrusts with the hiss of the whip as it descended. He felt his gathering ejaculation sending its waves of ecstasy through his loins, and fought to control it. He did not dare to think of what would happen if he finished before the blonde.
She lay tense, in another world. His penis, with its violent thrusts, seemed to reach up as far as her stomach. Her body quivered from head to toe as she answered his thrusts. Once, the tip of the whip curled too far round his bottom and cut into the side of her leg. She hardly noticed the pain. She was as though anaesthetised by sheer bliss.
Suddenly her body stiffened. She sank her nails deeply into his back as the poignant ecstasy possessed her.
He at once abandoned his control of himself, and allowed his violence a free rein.
The red-head gave a sigh, the sigh of one who has waited too patiently and too long for something badly needed. She shifted her position a little and aimed her whip at his back. With all her force she brought it down across the shoulder- blades. It was quite safe now. No pain could interrupt an ejaculation once it had begun.
He gave a sort of shuddering groan as the new agony struck him, but otherwise he took no notice. He sank himself into the savagery of his fulfilment, marvelling, with some small conscious corner of his brain, that such wondrous sensations could exist.
The sensations lasted for quite a long time, and the redhead was able to deliver several more lashes before the spasmodic convulsions of the two bodies began to lessen in force. Only then did she let her whip fall to her side. She paused for a moment and then threw it lightly down beside them.
She wetted her lips. Her own time had come, and she was very ready for it. The last few hard lashes had considerably increased her appetite for what she was going to do. She went to her ruck-sack again and took out another length of rope. She put it on the ground and rummaged about at the bottom of the ruck-sack. She took out a package that was wrapped in plastic. She removed the plastic and looked hungrily at the object it had been protecting.
It was a large double dildo made of a V of hard rubber. The part of the V that would slide inside her own vagina was ten centimetres long; the other part, the part that would stand up in front of her like an enormous erected penis, was fifteen centimetres long. To its base was attached a thick, flat piece of rubber that would lie upon her mound when the dildo was secured into its position by the various straps that now dangled from it.
She balanced the apparatus upon the coil of rope, making sure that the part which would go inside her own passage did not touch the ground. She unzipped her jeans and slipped them down to her ankles. She pushed her panties down after them, and stepped out of both at the same time. She picked up the dildo, parted her legs, and put the shorter end to her vagina. Slowly she pushed it into herself, feeling a sweet rapture as it made its way fully home. She fastened the straps into position round her legs, thighs and waist. She put, her hand to the enormous hard rubber penis that now stood away from her stomach at a slight angle. She agitated it, feeling the answering genital sensation as the agitation communicated itself to the end of the V which lay snugly inside her. She began to breathe fast.
She was not a lesbian. She had never yet used the dildo on a woman. Her use of it would probably have given a good deal of surprise to its manufacturer. She used it on the men she whipped. Her supreme sexual gratification came from tying a man into a totally helpless position-face down and with his legs wide open-giving him a merciless thrashing, and then savaging his bottom with her dildo. This action gave her mental as well as physical pleasure. The mental joy was that of subjugating a member of the so-called superior sex with a flogging and a rape; the physical pleasure came from the agitation of the part of the dildo that was inside her as she thrust the other part into her victim. The victim had to be a male man, however; she had no interest in pansies.
She looked now at the two bodies lying on the rug. They were so still that they might have been asleep. The man's back had livid weals across it, and two had begun to bleed a little. His bottom, which she had not hit hard, was crisscrossed by lighter weals and was a flaming red in colour.
She went up to them and picked up her whip. As she walked her great dildo swayed from side to side. "Come on," she said, giving the man a light kick in his ribs. "You've relaxed enough. Get up."
He turned his head and looked up at her. He gave a gasp. From his prostrate position the dildo seemed even larger than it really was. He gazed at it for several moments in shocked fascination, seeing at the same time that her legs were bare and her shiny black leather jacket was still being worn. He took his eyes away from the dildo and looked more closely at her legs. They were extremely shapely. He looked up at her leather jacket and caught his breath. The suede into which he had just been burying his face had excited him greatly, but he had a stronger fetish for soft shiny kid. He felt the faint stirrings of sex, and reflected that they must be in his mind; his body had been drained only a few minutes ago.
He looked back at the dildo and thought that perhaps he was not going to be whipped at once. The red-head must be a lesbian, and must now be waiting for him to get out of her way so that she could herself make love to her friend. If only he could wriggle his wrists out of their ropes while she was doing it… He could then quickly untie his feet and make a get-away. He might even be able to get away in his car. Then he remembered that the blonde had the engine key in her pocket. Never mind. He would grab some of his clothes and run. He could worry about the car later.
He raised his hips and pulled his now flaccid penis out of the blonde's vagina. She lay still with her eyes closed and made no sound. He rolled over on to his side.
"Would you help me up?" he said. "It's a bit difficult, tied up like this."
"With pleasure," said the red-head. "Anything to speed matters up." She put a hand under one of his arms and helped him to stand. "Now," she said, "hop over to the back of your car." She pulled away the wet french-letter. "Why?"
"Don't ask questions. Do as I say." He glanced at the whip in her hand and decided to obey her without further words. He hopped, twenty centimetres at a time, to the back of the Rolls. He saw her pick up another coil of rope.
So she's going to tie me up, he said to himself. That's a pity. But if she takes her time with the blonde I might still manage to untie myself.
"Face the car," she ordered. "And lie forward over the back of it."
The metal felt cold against his skin as he lay down over the curved luggage-boot. He wondered why she had to put him into this position. If it was simply to immobilise him, it seemed unnecessarily complicated. Unless-a wave of cold fear ran through him-she intended to thrash him before she made love to her friend. This would probably be a good position for him to be in, if she was going to do that.
He moistened his lips. "Why are you putting me over the back like this?"
"You'll see very soon."
He felt her untying the rope around his ankles. "Are you going to use that whip?"
She laughed. "What a silly question! Of course I am. I told you I was going to, didn't I?"
He made no reply. Hope died again inside him, and at the same time the burning pain in his back seemed to increase. He had been able to ignore it while there was a hope that he could escape. Now it began to claw at him. His heart thumped with terror.
He remembered the Swiss business-man again. He had been tied over his car, too. But it had been for a different purpose: a rape of the bottom, not a whipping-Perhaps the Swiss had been luckier. This fiendish girl would excite herself with her whip, would probably nearly kill him, and would then leave him in his agony while she flung herself and her monstrous dildo upon the body of her friend.
"Open your legs," she said. "Wide."
He opened his legs as widely as he could.
"Wider," she said.
"I can't." Why, for heaven's sake, did she want his legs open?
"You're asking for it, aren't you?" she said. "Do as I say, or you'll repent it so much."
He forced his legs open a few centimetres more.
She knelt beside his left leg and tied a length of rope around the ankle. She threw its free end under the car, beside the left wheel. She stood up and moved forward to the wheel. She knelt again and reached under the car to take the end of the rope. She pulled it tight, passed it round the front and side of the wheel, and knotted it firmly to the part that disappeared under the car. She went round to his right leg and did the same thing with another length of rope. She stood back and regarded her work. "Yes," she said. "You're safe enough like that."
Safe enough, he thought. She said safe enough. So perhaps all this is only to stop me running away. But why, why should she want my legs open like this?
"Now your arms," she said, and untied the ropes around his wrists. "I wonder whether there's enough rope." She gathered the remaining pieces and knotted them into one length. "Yes, perhaps." She tied one end round his right wrist. "Stretch your arm upwards, as far as you can." She went to the right-hand rear door of the car, opened it, and let down the window. She shut the door again, tossed the end of the rope through the window on to the seat, walked round the car, opened the left-hand door and let down the window, shut the door again, and reached through the open window for the end of the rope. She pulled tightly on it.
"Ouch!" he exclaimed, as his arm was stretched towards the window of the car. "You'll pull my arm out of its socket!"
"That would be nice," she said, and came back to his side, holding the rope taut. "Put this arm up now."
He stretched his left arm up in front of him.
She wound the end of the rope tightly round his wrist and made some expert knots.
"You have got him nice and helpless," said the voice of the blonde.
He turned his head sharply. She was standing beside the car, watching the actions of the red-head with a light of amusement in her eyes.
"Please," he said. "Please go and lie down again."
She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Lie down again? Why should I?"
"So that"-he hesitated, wondering whether he was being unwise to say it-"so that you'll be ready for her the moment she wants you."
"The moment who wants me?"
"Your friend."
"What are you talking about? Why should she want me? What for?"
"To make love to you. If you're not ready on the rug, she'll probably go on longer with that whip."
The blonde looked at the red-head, looked down at the dildo, and burst into laughter. "Oh, the innocent! He thinks you're going to use that on me!"
For a second he was puzzled. Then the truth dawned on him. So that was why she had opened his legs. So the Swiss had not, after all, been luckier. It was going to be both rape and a whipping.
"No," he said, weakly. "No, please. You're not going to put that into me, are you?"
"Yes," said the red-head. "Right into you. As far as it will go."
"No, please no!"
"But I'm going to warm you up first, of course. And I'm quite ready to start. Where are those stockings?"
"Here," said the blonde, and gave them to her.
"Please no," he repeated, desperately. "What have I ever done to you?"
The blonde laughed. "Nothing, my dear. But you don't have to have done anything, if you fall into the clutches of a nymph and a sadist. It's just your bad luck, that's all. But don't worry. She won't kill you."
The red-head took hold of a handful of his hair. "Open your mouth."
He gave up struggling against his fate, and opened his mouth. She thrust one rolled-up stocking into it, and tied it into place with the other.
The blonde took the whip into her hand. "Let me give him the first few, please."
"You're a greedy hog," said the red-head. "You've had your pleasure."
"Just a few little lashes. Please."
"All right. But be quick. I don't know why you want to, anyway. You're not a sadist."
"I'm beginning to be. It comes from watching you. And you told me yourself that every woman is a sadist at heart."
"Yes. All right, go ahead. But please be quick."
The blonde put herself into position and swung the whip. She aimed at the fleshy part of his legs, ten centimetres below his bottom. The stroke was very hard. A livid weal sprang to life, and with it some drops of blood.
A terrible, searing pain racked him. A choked moan escaped through the stocking in his mouth.
She swung the whip again, aiming this time at his shoulders. She put all her force into the lash. She felt a quivering pleasure in her loins at the thought of the pain she was giving. Her third lash cut across his buttocks. Her fourth and fifth across the centre of his back.
Panting with excitement more than with exertion, she handed the whip to the red-head. "Thank you. That was very nice indeed." She picked up her pants and jeans and put them on. "And now I'll watch you getting your own pleasure. It always gives me nearly as much of a thrill as anything else." She sat down on the ground and lay back on an elbow.
The red-head drew the now blood-wet whip through her fingers again, and looked hungrily at the naked body that squirmed and strained against its bonds.
She took up her position and drew a deep breath. She began to lash him across the upper part of his back. The lashes followed one another fast. The noise of swish-crack, swish-crack, swish-crack cut through the stillness of the woods.
He felt his brain reeling with the intolerable agony. He felt he would go mad with it… if his heart did not burst first. He tried to shriek through his gag, but could find neither the strength nor the breath.
The red-head's heart was also pounding madly. She delivered another dozen lashes and then threw down the whip. She threw herself over his bleeding back and legs, took the end of her dildo in her hands and put its tip to his anus. She gave a great thrust.
The dildo slid smoothly into the anal passage. She gave another thrust. The whole length of the dildo disappeared. She began to withdraw and thrust, savouring the blissful sensation inside her vaginal passage as the long end of the dildo communicated its pressures to the short end.
He hardly realised, at first, what was happening to him. The pain that burned his back was so intense that he did not notice the new burn inside his bottom. He knew only that the whipping had stopped. Gradually he became aware, however, of a thrusting and withdrawing movement in his bottom, and he realised that he was being savaged. His first reaction was one of revulsion, but this was followed quickly by the recognition that it was far better to be savaged than whipped. He hoped, dully, that she would quickly satisfy herself, and let him go.
She felt the juices of her culmination gathering. She reduced the speed of her thrusting and withdrawing, letting the impending culmination recede a little, titillating it, tantalising it. Soon it became demanding once more, and began to rise inexorably to its peak. She pulled herself abruptly away from him, and stood panting for a moment. The culmination receded again.
She picked up the whip.
Her lashes were given less rapidly this time. After each swish-crack she would pause for a moment, letting the rapture of flagellation do the titillating of the culmination. A wave of hot ecstasy seemed to pour itself over all her genital nerves each time the whip struck.
The blonde began to frown. "Do be careful," she murmured. "You'll kill him if you don't stop soon."
The red-head heard her words but did not at first appreciate their meaning. Then she turned her bead. "Perhaps you're right." She spoke in a voice that did not seem her own. "But I don't want to finish yet."
"I think you'd better."
"All right. Just six more. I'll let myself come while I give them."
"I hope he doesn't have a heart attack or something. He's in a terrible state."
"He'll be all right. It takes more than this to kill a man of his size." She contracted her stomach muscles, and felt the culmination give a leap forward as the dildo moved inside her. She raised the whip again. As it struck she did not try to control the further leap of the culmination. She struck again. "I'm coming now," she murmured. "Oh, oh, oh!" She struck again, and again…
Her culmination rose to its peak and took her in its possession. It shook her and made her tremble from head to toe. And still she lashed with her whip, not knowing that she was doing so, knowing only that she was in another world, a world of unbelievable delight.
The blonde rose quickly to her feet and went to her side. She seized the whip in her hand. "Stop it, for God's sake! That's enough."
"Ooooh!" The red-head gave a moan of shuddering satisfaction and dropped, like a sack, to the ground. She lay there, her eyes closed, breathing very fast.
The blonde looked anxiously at the back of the victim. It was covered with deep weals and running blood. She moved forward and took a handful of his hair. She raised his head gently and looked at his face. His eyes were shut. She put a hand beneath him and felt his heart. To her intense relief it was beating, though far too fast. She began to untie the ropes of his ankles, wondering what they were going to do with him now. They couldn't just leave him in the woods in this condition.
By the time she had untied all the ropes, the redhead opened her eyes, shook her head gently, and smiled. "My, my! That was very nice."
"You went too far," said the other, crossly. "Look at him. Whatever are we going to do with him now?"
"What do you mean? What should we do with him?"
"We can't leave him here."
"Whyever not? It's what we always do."
"You don't usually go as far as this. Look at him."
"All right. I'm looking at him. What about it?"
"He needs a doctor, or a hospital."
The red-head sighed. "Oh, do stop being stupid. Are you suggesting that we should drive him to a hospital?"
"No. But we can't leave him here like this."
"What do you suggest then?"
"I don't know," said the blonde stubbornly. "But we can't leave him. It might be ages before anyone found him here, and he's in no condition to do any walking."
"All right, then," said the red-head, getting to her feet and unstrapping the dildo. "We'll put him on the back seat and drive him down to the main road. We'll leave him there. He'll be found in no time. But we'll have to look slippy ourselves, or else we'll be found in no time too. That's why I don't like it." She put the dildo back into its plastic, and picked up her jeans and pants. "Does that satisfy you?"
"Yes. It's the least we can do." The blonde went to where the rug was, picked it up and brought it back to the car. She opened one of the rear doors and spread the rug over the seat. "That'll protect his leather."
The red-head watched her with narrowed eyes. "Have you gone soft on him or something?"
"Don't be silly," said the other shortly. "It's a pity to spoil a car like this, that's all. Come on. Help me lift him." She moved to the back of the car and put a hand under one of his arms. "It's all over," she said. "Can you stand up?"
He made no reply.
"You've forgotten to take out his gag," said the red-head.
"So I have." The blonde untied the stocking at the back of his head and removed his gag. "Can you stand up?" she repeated.
There was still no reply.
"Come on," she said to the red-head. "Help me."
Together, they led him stumblingly to the back seat and helped him to lie down. He made a number of moans, gave a great sigh, and lay still. The blonde covered him with the free end of the rug.
"Time to go," she said. "Do you want to drive, or shall I?"
"You. I'm too exhausted."
"Good. I've always wanted to drive a Rolls-Royce."
They gathered their various belongings and packed them into their ruck-sacks. They climbed into the car, looked once at the silent man, and shut the doors. The blonde took the engine key from her pocket and started the car.
"What heaven!" she said, as they moved out of the wood towards the road. "It's almost as good as love-making."
"What is?"
"Driving this car."
"You're foolish." The red-head let her head fall back on to the head of the seat. She closed her eyes.
Twenty minutes later, the blonde brought the great car to a standstill. "This will do, I think."
The red-head woke up. "Are we on the main road?"
"Yes. And quite near a town. Let's leave him here. But I suggest we get a train or a bus as quickly as we can."
"Shall we still go to Kiel and see Margarete?"
"I don't see what's to stop us. When they find him he'll be bound to tell them something of what happened, but I don't think he'll admit it was done by girls. He'll think of the newspapers. He's a baron and obviously rich. He's probably important enough for the thing to make quite a splash anyway. His masculine ego will keep his mouth shut about us."
"What's left of it, yes. He'll say it was men who did it."
"Anyway, we'll telephone Margarete first to make sure."