Authors: William Doughty
So she would promise. He removed her gag. She bit his right index finger and he howled. Only when somebody struck her across the arse with the leather cat was David able to pull his finger away from Mary’s vengeful teeth. Three women rushed over in a fury, and replaced Mary’s gag.
‘Take her to the next stage,’ David gasped, clutching his finger. ‘You’re an animal, Mary. But you’re going to be cured of wanting to be in my bloody bathroom.’
When Mary’s arms were released from the wooden frame, she resisted, but was helpless in the clutch of so many hands. Her wrists were shackled behind her back and, when her legs were released, the crowd soon transferred her ankles to the restraint of a dark, heavy wood leg stretcher, which held her legs far apart, forcing her to display her swollen cunt. Then the excited men and women carried her off like a trophy to a large bathroom, dominated by a huge black bath sunk into the floor. It was full of foaming hot water. A pair of ravishingly beautiful young women with long blonde hair were in the bath, playing with waterproof vibrators.
Laughing like cruel mermaids seeing a sinking ship, they welcomed Mary as a new toy to play with. Her gag was removed, and a swimming mask was put over her eyes and nose. She opened her mouth to speak, but could only shriek as she was picked up by a dozen hands and placed into the deep waters of the bath.
Slowly, very slowly, Mary came to her senses. She was lying in bed. She reviewed the beds of her life: was she in her parents’ home? No. Her flat in Leeds, or David’s house? No and no. All at once the events of the day and night before hit her mind like a blow, the hammer blow of wakefulness, the end of sleep, the resumption of suffering. She lurched out of bed and staggered to the window with its closed curtains of green. Her movements were slow and clumsy, her thinking a chaos of humiliations, her limbs ached, her pussy and nipples were tender, and her thighs, arse and back were smarting.
Opening the curtains she saw an unfamiliar view. Trees and fields on a lovely summer’s day. It would have been better if it had been cold, grey and drizzly, to reflect her mood. Suffering was always harder to bear when the weather was good, and what made it even worse was the feeling that somebody somewhere was happy, the selfish bastard. Mary thought that she herself might have been capable of great joy if only everything in her life had gone differently, from her birth to the present moment. Was that so much to ask?
Dazed, she looked around the unfamiliar room and saw a large sheet of paper on a desk next to her bag. The large, confident handwriting on the paper was also unfamiliar:
Dear Mary,
Thank you for a wonderful time. I paid for five nights in advance, so you can stay here and have a good rest. The money is in your bag, and your car is in the car park. I tell you all this because you had a bit too much to drink last night. This hotel is near Reading, in case you forgot that as well.
Thanks for everything,
Rex.
Mary put down the note, looked in her bag, and found a thousand pounds in fifties. Her first impulse was to flush the money down the toilet, but then it struck her that if she were ever to take revenge on David, it would be of real use. She had to think clearly first. Now she could not think at all, let alone think clearly.
Her mouth was very dry. She saw a small fridge and opened it, to see cheese, butter, salmon, ham, her favourite chocolates. And there were two large loaves of wholemeal bread on top of the fridge. Mary drank some water, sat on the bed, and was asleep again before she knew it. When she awoke again, she found her watch and saw that it was nearly five. She felt a little less dizzy and confused. It dawned on her that she had been sedated in order to get her here without her being able to make a fuss. At the end, had there not been an elderly man who assured her that he was a doctor, and given her an injection?
Tea. She wanted tea. When love has gone, and gone in stereo at that, Jack and David as twin speakers, and you have lost all faith in the human race and in life itself, when you hate yourself and see clearly that all the world is just evil, stupidity and suffering, nothing but a big piece of shit, there is still tea. So Mary pulled on some clothes, rang room service and had a pot of tea brought up.
Sitting alone again, she looked out of the window at the lovely blue sky with fluffy white clouds, at the trees and the birds and the fruitful fields, and she suddenly decided not to fall into complete despair after all, no matter how tempting and basically right and true it was to despair. This, she thought, is the only truly important decision it is possible for any human being ever to make: I decide not to despair. All other decisions, by comparison, are just yesterday’s vomit.
Appetite had she none, but she ate anyway. Surely life was nothing but a miserable, lonely and pointless fight to the death against overwhelming odds, but so what? She would eat to keep up her strength for the fight.
Her bum and thighs stung a little, but not too badly. She undressed to study her skin, and saw only some reddened areas, nothing dramatic. If she went to the police, they would think she was making a fuss about nothing. The marks did not seem as bad as Mary expected, remembering more details of last night, and she wondered if some soothing cream had been applied after she had been sedated. Those perverts really were methodical to a fault, indeed a whole bunch of faults.
Really, there was no point, Mary decided, in going to the police. It was not simply that she could prove nothing about her terrible ordeal, but also that she had in fact consented to it. David had set out the terms, she had agreed to them and the terms had not been broken. Besides, she was not even truly angry about the physical, sexual domination she had voluntarily endured. Rather, it was the way David had so thoroughly humiliated her in public and then discarded her like a piece of dirty rubbish that shocked her to the core. She could have enjoyed the whole thing if it had been done by David with love instead of hate – no, contempt. Hate is a fresh and invigorating emotion compared to contempt.
Wonder and a kind of pleasant fear filled Mary as she realised she was not sure what to do now, or even where to go. Everything had come to an end. That was frightening, but it was also a kind of liberation. She had always loved freedom, and to bring everything in her life to an end was freedom. Her job had come to an end when she lost her temper, Jack had been well and truly ended when she dominated him in that hotel room, and now the story of her and David had gone from her mind because he had brought the whole thing to a shattering climax. Usually people thought it was sad when anything came to an end, but even in her dazed and unhappy state, Mary wondered if there might not be at least as much good in ends as beginnings. An end was the end of suffering, a beginning was only the bloody start.
What did you do when everything came to an end? It seemed to Mary that she must not fall back into old ways and habits, but instead be new, fresh. Not start anew, as she could not even think of anything to start, but be new. That was fine, but what was she actually going to do, and where was she to live? The idea of going back to her flat in Leeds seemed ridiculous. Even that flat seemed to have come to an end, she could hardly believe it still existed. She felt she had no more reason to be in Leeds than anywhere else. As for people, who the hell cared about people? It was so much better to be alone. The human race? What was that? A lot of people straining their guts out to win and so make everybody else look and feel bad? What were the prizes for this race? Who were the organisers, where was the audience? It all seemed pretty fishy to Mary, this whole business of the human race. The fix was in, some of the runners were doped, the handicapping system was a fucking joke, the whole thing was rigged. She refused to believe for one more second in this crap race from the rubbish tip to the graveyard, from being bullied at school to being drugged and mistreated in an old people’s home. A race against time, the race of the century. Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off.
Before 10 p.m., Mary was asleep again. When she awoke next morning she had a hearty breakfast, then went for a long walk. Her various aches, her soreness and tenderness, had almost faded completely. How full the world was of things to look at, touch, smell, and listen to! And there were people everywhere, though most of them seemed tired and discontent. What stops us, Mary wondered, from being happy, right here and now? Are we missing the point? Why are so many people, especially me, so well and truly fucked up? She decided to be strong and competent from then on, but when she got back to her hotel room she felt so lonely and depressed that she cried for an hour, then ate a lot of chocolate and had a nap. For the rest of the evening she stayed in bed, thinking about all the people she had ever known.
David, for instance. Of course he was a crazy, evil sadist, but how hard it was to hate the little creep, or even to despise him as he deserved. Other people seemed so boring and stupid by comparison, even if they were good. She would just have to try harder to hate him, or forget and ignore him, or to take on him a sickening revenge, not that he was even worthy of her vengeance. And all the other people? It was hard even to think of her friends in Leeds, they seemed so ordinary and foolish that they hardly seemed to exist. Everyone she had ever known except for David, Carol and Faye seemed just silly and pointless.
No wonder she had always found David so fascinating. He was not the same as everybody else, and nearly everybody else was so bloody boring and stupid.
Carol and Faye stood out in Mary’s mind too, for being so good, so nice, so happy with one another. Maybe she would visit them, since they were the only people she still liked, and she had nothing else to do and nowhere else to go. So what if they lived near David? She was a free agent, she could go where she liked. He was nothing to do with anything in her life, not any more. It was all over, and she would never think of him again. Forget the past. Burn it. Follow a scorched earth policy, leave nothing behind. Destroy everything.
Think of all the things he had done to her! No, better not to, it would make her horny. Too late. Mary decided she would masturbate while thinking of David one last time, to say goodbye to all that, to methodically clear it from her mind once and forever. David and all those creeps in that house in London where so much had happened. Truly her mind and body were full of that experience, and she had to have an orgasm just to be able to think clearly about other things and come back to herself. So for nearly two hours she masturbated in every way she could think of, and it was refreshing.
She used her fingers, her toothbrush, the shower. She rode two pillows as if they were a man, and she bound her breasts, waist and thighs tightly with a sheet. She masturbated in positions she had never masturbated in before, and after she had come three times she rated the operation a success, and slept the good sleep of the orgasmed.
Next day, Mary drove around and did some shopping, though she was careful not to spend much. One of the things she bought was
Space Opera
by Jack Vance, David’s favourite author. It was not that she wanted to understand David better, she told herself, rather she needed to broaden her horizons. Just because David did something or liked something was no reason for her to avoid it. That would be petty, and giving David too much importance. She found the novel insane and funny.
It was raining hard when Mary awoke next morning. She performed her routine exercises, a habit she had briefly allowed to lapse. She resolved never to be so distracted and confused again. Discipline was the key to life, self-discipline and methodical behaviour. All those other things people talked about, like being nice and helpful and sociable, and all that New Age pigshit about magic, astrology and so on, was all crappy lies, which was why so many people liked it. What counted was self-discipline, method, skills and strength.
Mary slowly ate a hearty breakfast while staring out of the window at the rain-drenched landscape of England, and even more she stared at the window itself, visible with drops and rivulets of water that trembled, shivered, flowed and merged, glistening with light, heading down and down. As a child, Mary could look at rain on the windows for hours on end, which was one of the reasons her parents secretly thought she was a bit touched. But really, Mary thought, watching rain on the window is far more interesting than most of the things people do. It struck her as strange that nobody ever told you the useful facts that life is only a solitary fight to the death against overwhelming odds, but that sometimes you can have a rest by watching rain on a window. Who gained the advantage from keeping the truth a secret?
After she finished breakfast it was still raining hard, so she practised karate moves for a while, then showered, dressed, packed and checked out. By then it was only drizzling.
As she drove along, she had an idea that filled her with true horror: what if all her experiences with David were the most exciting part of her life, her whole life? What if, after David, there was nothing but trivialities, normality and boredom?
Drizzle was so English, Mary thought, as she arrived at Carol’s family house. It went on and on for no reason, it was neither one thing nor the other, it veiled everything in vagueness to avoid any unwelcome clarity, and it was so cold and damp and depressing that it made you wonder what the point of anything was. It was hypocritical and puritanical. Mary had recently read that Spanish women had the most orgasms of any women in Europe. Of course they do, she thought, and why not? Spain is noted for its lack of drizzle.
Everything about the big house and garden said money. A former farmhouse swallowed up by the suburbs, it had been largely rebuilt. Carol’s parents were both geneticists, and Mary knew they must be as good as Frankenstein to afford such a great place. Carol and Faye’s parents alike were away, but the two girls were spending most of their time at Carol’s, as it had everything, and everything it had was the best. Mary thought it would be a good place to recuperate and regroup, but she was determined not to repeat the mistake she had made with David. This time, if she were not sure she was welcome, she would leave at once. There was plenty to do back home in Leeds. Such as the washing-up she had abandoned in the sink.
‘Mary! Good to see you! Come on in,’ Carol exclaimed when she opened the door.
Mary had been prepared to leave rather than make a nuisance of herself all over again but, to her surprise, Carol and Faye really were pleased to see her, indeed they even seemed excited. The strong welcome filled Mary with suspicion and, ironically, she felt like making her excuses and leaving.
The three of them sat at a table in a beautiful room where everything seemed to be made of golden wood. It was, thought Mary, like being inside an advert for something. Life, perhaps. Over tea and biscuits they talked: Mary said that she had argued with David, and they had broken up for good. To her surprise, she suddenly started sobbing violently, though it would have been hard for her to explain exactly what she was crying about. How kind Faye and Carol were, how well they tried to console her and reassure her! They hugged her, patted her, said all the right things, held her hand and kept saying she had to stay with them for a holiday, she really had to. Both Faye and Carol would make great mothers one day, Mary thought, and she felt tempted to give up for a while and pretend to be their infant daughter. It would be nice to abandon the hardships of adult life, just temporarily, and be a child again, though not of course with her real parents. She was not that crazy.
‘Stay here for a long time,’ said Carol. ‘Please say you will. My parents won’t be back for another four weeks, you know. They’re going to a conference and then they’re taking a tour of America before they come back. They’ll visit some institutes and universities as well, it’s partly a working holiday. This house is so big, there’s tons of room. And we can use the swimming pool when the weather improves. And we’ll go out. The three of us can have a nice time.’
‘Please stay, Mary,’ Faye insisted with shy and charming intensity. ‘It’ll be good for you, I can sense it. If you go away now you’ll only get depressed. Remember when we told you you were the only person we trusted? We really meant it, you know. And we like you so much.’
‘If you’re sure I won’t be a nuisance, I’ll stay a couple of days,’ said Mary. She wiped her face and blew her nose. Already she had an instinctive feeling that she had come to the right place, the right people. Mary trusted her instinct even if it did get her into one mess after another. What else was there to trust?
So charming were Carol and Faye, and so splendid the house and garden, that Mary, over the next two days, began to feel better almost despite herself. The three young women had got on very well when Mary had stayed at David’s house years ago, and now they seemed even closer, sharing a basic feeling of contentment in simple pleasures, and a fundamental integrity. Intelligent and sincere, they all hated stupidity and insincerity. There are strengths, there is a kind of goodness, that can be recognised and shared without the need to speak of the understanding.
So they went shopping, drove to a wood and walked, watched classic movies on a stupendous home theatre and did some housework. Mary sensed though, that Carol and Faye had something they were holding back for the right moment, something they wanted to talk about. She guessed it probably had to do with their strange adventures in David’s bathroom, and hoped her guess was wrong. Not only did she want to forget David, but she felt terribly guilty about getting these nice girls into that creep’s weird bathroom so he could put them on tape. She must have been insane. How could she have been stupid enough to think up such an immoral idea just so David would find her more interesting? It was pathetic.
But Faye and Carol had certainly been fascinated by David’s bathroom and his equipment, and they probably needed to talk it over with Mary. They would find it difficult to talk about with anyone else, that was for sure, as bathroom domination was such an odd combination of fetishes. Mermaids and masters, serious bathing, wet and hot and slippery, floating and coming – no, she would not even think of it, let alone ever get involved in it again. She was nothing like David, she was not crazy.
‘What are you brooding about, Mary?’ Faye inquired.
‘Nothing,’ Mary lied, nearly dropping the cup she was washing.
‘You were thinking about David, weren’t you?’ said Carol. ‘Don’t deny it, I’ve been hearing you think for the last two hours at least.’
‘Don’t worry, just relax,’ Faye insisted. ‘And don’t think so loud, you’ll give us all a headache. Turn it down.’ She giggled, and gave Mary a hug. Carol joined in.
‘I’ll stop brooding,’ Mary announced firmly. She was surprised by the strong wave of desire that swept her just because the girls’ bodies were pressed tight to hers. Why, she wondered, did she have to be so easily aroused and always needing to come? What a bloody nuisance sex was. And it was all just a trick by genes anyway, so they could carry on for millions more years after she had died and blown away as dust on the desert wind. On the other hand, an orgasm would be nice.
‘Let’s watch a movie,’ Carol suggested. ‘And have a drink.’
Mary had cider, Carol had beer, and Faye chose red wine. Carol and Faye hardly ever touched alcohol, so seeing them drink now made Mary wonder if they were trying to create some kind of special occasion. Carol put on a DVD, a French lesbian movie which had the merit of not looking like teaching material for a course in gynaecology. Mary felt more and more aroused. She wished Faye and Carol would make a move. Even a tiny one.
‘Did you ever make love with another woman?’ Carol asked Mary, putting her arm round Mary’s shoulders and gazing directly into her eyes. Her gaze was cool, clear light blue, full of confidence.
‘Yes, and I enjoyed it,’ Mary replied, giving the shortest possible answer so she could cut to the chase. She kissed Carol, who responded passionately, then turned to Faye, saw her excitement, and shared a long kiss with her too. Mary’s hands were drawn at once to Faye’s huge breasts. ‘But,’ Mary gasped, ‘I never did it with two really nice girls before.’
‘This is amazing,’ Carol moaned. ‘It’s so different.’
All three women shared the same surprise and excitement, finding the reality of a threesome more intense and thrilling than they had anticipated. Hands seemed to be everywhere. Like echoes, their excitement bounced back and forth, and like mirrors they reflected each other’s arousal. For a long time, Mary had been struck by Faye and Carol’s attractions. Now she was freely enjoying herself with them, such nice girls and old friends, and it was a wonder and a delight to kiss those mouths she had seen many times, and to hear the rapid breathing and muted sighs of their ardour.
Soft and big, the sofa of dark-red leather that they squirmed rather than sat on served them as a fine playground. Kissing and caressing, they undressed very slowly because they could hardly bear to break away from one another even for a moment. Mary came when still in her underwear, lying on the sofa with Faye on top of her, fully dressed, while Carol alternately kissed Faye and Mary, and masturbated by rubbing herself on a pair of large cushions she straddled.
Amazement filled all three women after they had come, and they chattered excitedly. They had known intellectually that three women could do all kinds of things together, but the reality was overwhelming, and presented so many thrilling sensations to them that their minds and bodies seemed to buzz with energy like a hive of bees vibrant in the summer’s warmth. Simple joy surged through them, as they cuddled and kissed, sharing skin with reckless generosity.
Nowness felt like lightning. All was known, everything was real. The three women struggled out of their remaining clothes and saw dizzying potentials in so much nudity: kissing and groping, licking and touching, flying and floating away, they laughed from sheer happiness.
‘How beautiful, how beautiful you both are!’ Mary cried out, almost sang out. Suddenly there seemed to be songs everywhere, in everything she was and knew.
‘You two are perfect, but my breasts are much too big,’ Faye murmured.
‘You’re crazy,’ Mary protested. ‘I love your breasts.’
‘So do I,’ agreed Carol. She and Mary simultaneously suckled on Faye’s gigantic, yet surprisingly firm, udders.
Faye shuddered. ‘Oh, my God, that’s incredible,’ she moaned. ‘It’s more than twice as good. Stop, please, stop, I can’t stand it. No, no, don’t stop, I’ll die.’
Fascinated, the three women studied and played with each other’s bodies, and exchanged sincere praise. All of them exercised, and enjoyed various sports, giving their bodies a pleasing tautness, strength, co-ordination and grace, a fine confidence and correctness in movement. Faye laughed with delight as she fingered Mary’s nipples, so big and hard, and then showed Mary how big Carol’s clit was. Carol and Faye kissed Mary’s superb, strong round arse; Mary and Faye licked and stroked Carol’s impossibly long legs; Mary and Carol played with Faye’s huge breasts again and again. Everything was just so fascinating.
To Mary’s horror, she found herself thinking how wonderful the girls would look and feel in restraint, and how much fun she could have teasing them, ordering them to serve her, and making them come and come. Then they could bind her and take a gleeful, playful revenge. No, she was insane to imagine such crazy stuff. Surely David had not screwed her mind up that much? She would be normal or burst, Mary resolved, even as she imagined fastening straps around Faye’s exceptional breasts and touching their bulging tautness.
Lust mounting, they began to rub their bodies together, and to suck breasts and cunts, all so round and delicious. They played on the big soft sofa and, by putting cushions on the adjacent deep, soft dark-purple rug, they made an extended playground, moving from rug to sofa, sofa to rug, trying every position they could think of with mounting wonder and delight. Skins gleaming with fresh sweat, Mary mounted Faye, Carol mounted Mary, and so on in all six ways, and six ways too for mouth to pussy, but that was only the start of the algebra and geometry of three young female bodies straining themselves to splendid achievements: the opening lines of the introduction to tripleness.
There were so many ways to form threes: mouths to pussies to make a triangle, lying on their sides, or one lying across two, rubbing pussies with one partner and kissing the mouth or breasts of the other. Two lay face to face on their sides, pressing flesh to flesh, while the third straddled their waists, hips, or thighs, holding the pair together with arms and legs. So many joys that it made a couple seem so limited, some kind of a trick played on them by a society that always talked about two and never about three, as though two were not less than three, but more. And even if three chanced in the warm flow of events to become two and one for a while, the one could happily masturbate, or ask for a free hand or mouth. For hours that night, Mary, Carol and Faye learned a lot about the power of three, which is not a mere addition of one to two, but a surprising multiplication.
Awaking in the same bed next morning, they had the deep and true happiness of knowing each other’s bodies and pleasures, the extra sparkling energy and freshness which comes from stealing a few orgasms from fate. At first, each was a little shy, almost afraid that she had enjoyed herself more than the other two, so they would think it strange if she was sincere in her joy, but then each looked into four eyes, and saw that she was not alone and peculiar in the depth and strength of her pleasure, and they all three knew that what they had started would go on growing, for it had special roots and unique strengths.
Breakfast seemed delectable, with the most ordinary of foods taking on a new flavour. Eagerly, the three women talked over the events of the day before, and soon felt hungry for more.
‘Let’s have a bath together this afternoon,’ Carol suggested.
‘Yes, that’ll be lovely,’ Faye agreed. ‘There’s so many things we can do in the bathroom. Slippery, warm, wet things.’
‘We have a nice bathroom here to play in,’ said Carol. ‘Even if it’s not such a good bathroom as David’s.’
Mary felt Carol and Faye’s eyes on her like heavy weights as she chewed her toast, which suddenly became difficult to swallow. She felt sure the girls had been dying to talk about David’s bathroom with her ever since they had tried out its unique facilities, but they had managed to restrain themselves until now. Mary did not want to talk about it, or even think about it. The whole topic seemed to her to be repulsive, as it was the story of her own stupidity.
‘I’m sorry, but I’m not going to talk about it,’ she told Faye and Carol, breaking the thickening silence. ‘He and I are through. The whole thing was a disgusting mess. He’s crazy, and the bathroom shows his craziness.’
‘He wanted us to see it, didn’t he?’ Carol asked. ‘When you and he went out and we looked after Ellie.’
Mary wondered what David had done with Ellie. The cat’s fate would reveal something about David’s character. Stop it, she ordered herself. I already know his true character.