Opal Andrews - The chamber of pleasures

The three monsters of the woods then beat my naked and defenseless aunt.

Lois' breasts leaped high and shuddered down, bouncing, as she raised a three-thonged whip and brought it down with what I could plainly see was considerable force. The thongs lashed vertically down the gleaming white, trembling right hemisphere of my aunt's bottom, and rose again to sweep down once more, this time vertically striping the left half-globe of white flesh. I saw Isobel clench those whipped cheeks tightly together, and I saw the dark lines left by the the whip.

Lois stepped back, handing the whip to Miles. Lois watched, each of her hands cupping her own naked mammary globes and squeezing them, her eyes flashing and her bosom heaving in excitement as she stared at the helplessly upturned target.

In Miles' hand, the three-tailed lash whistled down to sear its way across both striped and quivering cheeks of Isobel's upturned bottom. I saw her twist frantically back and forth, quivering and doubtless screaming… and bound helplessly. Her naked body shook in pain and fear, quivering in hysteria, while he directed another lash down to lay what I knew was a path of excruciating pain across both her soft hemispheres.

Forgetting myself, I sobbed aloud to see the force of the blows, the abject slavish helplessness of their bound victim, my own aunt who fed and clothed me and treated me more kindly than had my own parents. My face, I am sure was as contorted as hers, as tear stained, my throat as choked with horror. I could practically see the pain shoot, my mouth gaping open and working like that of a fish jerked from the water it needed for life, as the lash had its way with her helpless and pinioned body. Her hips jerked and her rump's sweet round halves trembled, exacerbated by the burning, coiling caress of the whip. My scalp crawled as I watched her eyes squeeze shut, leaking tears, and her lips, so recently invaded by the terrible members of both her male tormentors, work and gape wide so that I knew agonized shrieks were pouring from her mouth.

She jerked in renewed pain, looking stricken and utterly defeated as Miles brought down a third vicious lash onto soft, rippling, cringing flesh.

Now Erik Parker, brown-robed and monkish, took the whip. He raised it on high and delivered a fearful lash that made her start and wince as electric pain jolted and sizzled through her trembling bottom. I watched shudders and tremors writhing through her excoriated body, and I felt them ripple my own flesh, as though I were a mirror-image of that poor whipped woman. Blood rushed angrily to the lashed surface of her satiny skin. Her eyes dilated, her nostrils flaring in convulsive breaths. Tears were falling down her cheeks.

Erik whipped on. His arm rose and fell. Her rounded backside became no longer white, but red. He snapped the whip just across the bases of those poor hemispheres, no more than the whips own breath from the silken flesh of her thighs. She jerked herself, pushing at the floor with her toes, plunging her belly and naked breasts against the sawhorses on which she lay bound. I could almost fancy I beard her scream, like a child's, high and shrill and agonized.

He did not care. He was a monster, an iron man, a machine, a thing with no heart, a whipping-machine. Stepping back a pace or two, he swung the lash down once more, so that it descended like a blazing brand onto the upper portion of her right buttock. She screamed her noiseless… to me… scream, and went on, I am sure, groaning. Her head sagged, her eyes pouring tears down her hot cheeks. I knew that her body boiled. Her soft thighs quivered against the rough wood of the twinned sawhorses. Her belly fluttered against it. Her dangling breasts, each still pinched with a clothespin clamped onto the fiery tip, shivered and heaved.

Fondling herself like a common whore in her whore's clothing, Lois turned and walked away, out of my line of vision.

Erik struck on.

Lois returned, and I gasped with horror.

Her thighs and waist were constricted with leather straps, buckled in place. They formed a harness that supported the strange black cylinder, shining like plastic or metal, that jutted from her in an incredibly obscene parody of the two men's sexual parts.

"No, oh-h-h-h n-o-o-o-o-ooo…" I murmured, somehow knowing at once what that bobbing monstrosity was and what she would do with it.

She did. Slapping her hands down, onto Isobel's well-marked hindcheeks, she hunched her pelvis and forced the knobby head of her awful dildo between the helplessly-spread lower lips of their victim. As I watched in absolute honor, the thing slid in, and in, and in, until fully seven of its nine or ten inches had passed within the soft open body of the bound woman.

Clinging to her buttocks and hunching her pelvis against them, Lois then stood there and drove that unyielding obscenity in and out and in and out of my aunt until the black length of it was coated and glistening in the cellar lights with her inner juices.

I watched Miles, his own fleshy shaft still fantastically swollen and angry-looking, step behind, the girl without realizing what he intended. I soon learned. With only a slight bending of his knees and a swift forward jerk, he plunged his own organ into Lois just as she had pierced Isobel with the artificial one.

They achieved a rhythm.

Miles withdrew a little, though clinging to Lois' hips, each time she lunged forward in brutal impalement of the bound woman whose soft sexual lips she ravaged. Then, as Lois withdrew for her next stroke, Miles lunged forward against her back, slapping his lower belly against her naked buttocks that jutted from her black body-stocking. I could tell he was ensconced in her to the very hair that curled about his pelvic area.

My poor eyes bulged and my breath came in ragged gasps as I stared at them as though hypnotized.

"Uh… uh… uh… uh…" I was gasping, in unconscious rhythm with the thrusting participants in that licentious scene out of a medieval dungeon. Unconsciously my thighs drifted apart to alleviate the terrible heat between them. Without my awareness my own hands caught and massaged my bosom's soft round bulges, unconsciously crushing and worrying the swollen tips until I find them still tender as I write this scene here in my diary of… horror, and rampant, licentious sexuality!

Erik now stood close to the other end of the sawhorse, and my aunt had to strain her neck to do as he doubtless ordered. I could clearly see the emergence of her pink tongue, see it lap at the big crown of his throbbing sexual spear, like a kitten lapping cream. I saw her lave it, cover it with her own saliva, and all the while she was being violently jerked and rocked as Lois raped her from behind.

Then Miles was quaking, stiffening, his arms rushing around the girl to hold her hard against him, deeply impaled and forced forward to deeply impale Isobel. I saw Miles' face become red, watched him jerk and quiver and strain, saw, with a little frown, his weakening legs and his sudden sagging.

When at last he stepped back from the shivering girl, his great organ was no longer standing before him, but swinging wetly, ponderously between his thighs. Depleted and empty! I crammed my knuckles into my mouth knowing that he had filled her palpitating belly with the boiling essence of his sexuality.

She, too, withdrew her "organ" from her rape victim. But it was not flagging, still as ramrod stiff and huge as before. She turned to kiss him, but Erik's lips moved and gestured.

The girl went immediately to him, kissed him, and turned to press her lower parts against the face of the bound woman.

My stomach lurched and again I clamped my lips against my rising gorge. I knew that they were now forcing poor Isobel to lick from that obscene girl's thighs and lower lips the sickening ichor that Miles had pumped into her.