Robert Taylor - Whipped bitch

"Impossible!" Barbara whispered to Janey. "The men are fags, hot for each other. Maybe they don't know it. Anyhow they can't admit it in the wife's presence."

She resolved the problem by leaving the men alone, taking the woman to the other room. As she and Janey smeared salve on the wife's ass welts, the woman came alive and showed full-blown lesbian tendencies.

Janey's hairy twat made the woman frown with distaste, however. Sent from the room, she looked back in through the one-way window and saw the wife gobbling at Barbara's shaven cunt.

In the black-horse room the lover was sucking the husband's cock. The husband, Janey thought, looked bewildered, as though the truth of their situation was only now dawning on him.

That night in bed she told Grace about it.

"They're so crazy, it makes you wonder about yourself," Grace murmured, her face buried between Janey's breasts, her hands squeezing the nipples. "I'm beginning to think I always liked pussy best."

"But don't you go wild with a good, hard cock in your cunt?"

"Sometimes."

Janey, though caressing her sweetheart's back, was thinking of Bill. She had heard that his vacation had ended, he and Alice gone home. Surely the thing with Bill had been mere first-rate fucking. She had no reason to feel any other attachment; clearly his heart had been with his wife even when his splendid fat cock reamed her cunt. Probably she had need of a decent man to cling to. Both Burt and Akito had made her cum, but she didn't want to submit to either of them again.

So what she had was darling Gracie, now idly licking a nipple that stood like a thumb tip.

The following evening one of three men sitting in a booth asked Janey to dance. She checked with Barbara, who gave permission.

It was the first time for her on the little dance floor. The man, Harry was his name, was tall and strong and rather handsome, and she liked the raincoat pocket; she had felt under his arms for a gun.

She could only calculate that Mrs. Claymore had used the cop named Harry to test her, to see if she would spill the beans about Palm Cove.

Thank God for Gracie's warning.

Janey wished it had been otherwise. She would love to feel Harry's cock pushing into her cunt.

In the evening Burt appeared behind the bar.

His gaze met Janey's. His eyes slitted, and his lips twisted in a grin.

Janey shivered.

Barbara did not look toward him. But she was flushed, and Janey thought her more hurt by him then angry. Most likely she would renew their affair if he approached her in the right way.

Gazing at the Apron Girl's bare behind, Janey sighed with envy. If only she could become an Apron Girl, with the right to refuse distasteful clients, to take days or nights off, go to the beach or to town… But how?

No Ribbon Girl knew how aprons were chosen, though apparently all aprons had served their apprenticeships in ribbons. Barbara had mentioned an incident that occurred when she wore them.

"Is he looking at me?" Barbara whispered to her.

Burt was serving drinks, half hidden by people at the bar.

"He's busy."

"I had a man last night – didn't satisfy me at all. But Burt is such a shit, he's always been one. Then trying to cheat me!"

At seven o'clock clients entered with raincoats dripping.

It was raining outside.

Janey's nerves were tingling.

Worse after Barbara told her to dress in black leather, and go to the horse room.

Fully costumed, high boots and black belt and mask with hood, carrying a black strap whip, Janey entered and found, leaning against the horse, Burt dressed in the same fashion, not wearing an apron, his long cock dangling in full view.

She saw his eyes glittering, full of hatred, laughing at her.

"Oh yes, that's the bitch," the woman said.

She was small and rather skinny, Janey thought, her hair straw-colored from too much bleach. She stood by the bed. The man beside her looked beefy. Both wore domino masks. The woman went on, "The hooded mask she's wearing doesn't fool me. I know those big tits and how she walks chin high so they flounce around, those fat tits!"

The beefy man said, "But Martha, I've only looked at her. Everybody looks at her."

"Don't tell me, she's like all the secretaries you hire, fat-titted so you can suck them."

Bewildered, Janey glanced at Burt, who stood with hands on hips, whip dangling from his hand, grinning at her.

The beefy man said, "Martha, you've had too much to drink."

"Just enough, Howard. Just enough. I'll show you. I've hired myself a prick that's twice as long as yours. Look at it hanging down between his boots. Well, Howard, I'm going to have that prick inside me, and you're going to watch, and I'll get even for all the times you've fucked your secretaries!"

The woman lost her balance, stabbed out with a foot.

Drunk, Janey thought.

"I feel humiliated," the man said.

Martha smiled. "How would you like to be chained to that horse? I can do it. I have my own money and I'll hire that, Oriental to tie you up in knots and then I'll take the whip…"

He sighed. "Martha, Martha…"

"Mr. Burt says I can do what I want. I've paid. And there will be a nice tip for Mr. Burt. Yes, that big-titted twat there with all that bushy pubic hair, I'm going to whip her like I wanted to beat all the secretaries you've fucked!"

With that, Burt said, "Then take the whip."

He tossed it to the woman. Stunned, Janey saw it fly past her face.

Then Burt was upon her. He seized her wrists, his grip as hard as steel handcuffs. He yanked her to the horse and dragged her over it.

Her booted toes barely touched the floor. Burt's weight was on her wrists.

The woman screeched, "I'll cut your fat ass to shreds, girl!"

Janey heard the whip whistle, but the woman lost her balance, staggering. The snapper struck the thigh of her boot.

She felt the bum of it through the leather.

"Drunken bitch!" the woman's husband snarled. "I hope you trip over it and break your leg."

The woman braced herself, swung, and as the whip lashed into her buttocks Janey felt the sear, a strip of fire burning the cheeks.

"Wait," Burt said. "Mrs. Smith, I have to get a hard-on. I'll have her suck my cock while you whip her. Then I'll be all ready to fuck you."

"Yes, yes!" the woman shrilled. "Make the cunt suck it!"

Her husband said, "I could throw up."

But he made no move to stop them, and Janey knew they all lied, that maybe "Mr. Smith" was getting kicks from seeing her whipped.

Burt stepped to her, pushing the long flab of his cock into her face.

Janey had clenched her fists as she fought to endure the pain of the burning stripe across her ass. And now she realized that in her right hand she held the handle of her whip. She had a weapon.

Rage, built up over these days, grew to a raging fire in her. She would not do this! Burt could get away with it, yes, because sometimes clients paid to beat Ribbon Girls. But the drunken Mrs. Smith and her indifferent husband were too much, and the evil Burt… Burt said, "Wait, Mrs. Smith, she hasn't got my prick in her mouth yet."

He raised on tiptoes, lifting the head of his prick to Janey's lips.

She lipped it, getting it into her mouth.

And then she bit it.

Burt's scream of pain shattered her ears. He clutched his injured cock.

Janey, screeching as loudly as he in her anger, flung from the horse, raised her whip, up to shoulder height, then flung it at his face, striking with all the strength in her arm.

It cut an angle from his ear to nose to jaw, left a crimson stripe in the middle of which blood spurted from both nostrils.

Janey whirled on the woman, who backed away from her, wide-eyed with fear, lost her balance and fell heavily on her backside.