Michael Jaeggers - Honeymoon hotel

Lord Medwell clapped his hands together in dismissal. "Then we really have nothing more to discuss. The photographs will be mailed tomorrow." He turned to the door.

"Please. Have pity." Sue screamed.

Lord Medwell did not answer. He opened the door and stood in the archway. "Good evening, Madam. And sweet dreams." He started to close the door.

"No," Sue shouted in desperation and fear. "No… come back." Her body was wracked with shuddering sobs of distress, as she buried her face in her hands.

"You'll do it?" Lord Medwell's voice was cold, inflexible.

"Oh, God forgive me… yes!" she screamed. "Yes… you, you beast… I'll do it!"

Lord Medwell closed the door behind him. His face was red in rage and his voice tight in poorly suppressed fury. "Watch your language, slut, or I shall have second thoughts about my generosity. As it is, you will pay a little extra for your persistent use of the odious term."

Abjectly, knowing she must be on his good side to get the photographs, Sue said, "I'm sorry."

"That's better, immensely better. Now my dear, take your hands away from your pretty little face. Do it… now!" The last word cracked like a whip and Sue's body jumped as though struck.

Lord Medwell handed down photograph number one. "Shall we begin? Recreate this… and you may have the picture to do as you wish. Burn it, tear it, or keep it among your treasured souvenirs. Look at it closely."

"Oh, God…" she moaned in shame and distress.

"Take off your clothes." It was an order, there could be no disobedience. She rose, silent, unable to speak for the humiliation she felt. The man's eyes burned huge holes in her breasts and pelvic area. When she hesitated – hoping against hope that he would change his mind, that this was really a monstrous nightmare from which she would soon awaken – Lord Medwell narrowed his eyes in warning. Quickly then, she took off the peignoir. Then, eyes closed and unable to look at him, she slowly lifted the gown over her head to stand naked and trembling abjectly before him.

"Beautiful, just beautiful. Now stand there until I get my clothes off." For the first time the old man began showing real signs of impatience. She watched him, horrified, as he removed his coat, tie, shirt and undershirt, and then unbuttoned his trousers and dropped his pants and drawers to the floor. A moment later, he stood before her with only his shoes and socks and garters on. His huge white erection grew like a poisonous toadstool in the grey tundra of his pubic hair. "All right, my dear. Picture number one: on your hands and knees… crawl to me."

It was going to be even worse than she had thought. She kept saying over and over again in her mind, "This can't be happening to me; this can't be happening to me." Lord Medwell was a hideous creature seen in some nightmare as he leered down at her with those horribly hot and unbending eyes. She would die before she did this. "No… I can't." She clenched her eyes tightly shut as if she could erase the scene from memory and make it cease to exist.

"If I am forced to put my clothes on, I swear to you that nothing – absolutely nothing you could offer, no matter how far you crawled – could obtain the release of these photographs. Do you quite understand?"

"Please?" she pleaded, looking at him once more in supplication. "Please…"

Lord Medwell merely stroked his waiting cock and answered. "I'm waiting. On your hands and knees. Quickly!"

It was hopeless, she knew it was hopeless. All was lost. It didn't matter. She would die of humiliation if the photographs were released; she would die of humiliation if she were to undergo the cruel debasement in order to retrieve them. It didn't matter except… the pictures would kill Dick's love for her, would destroy her mother, would be traumatic for all her friends receiving copies. This way only she would be hurt. Slowly, she sank to her knees and began crawling like a wounded animal toward his naked loins.

Now all she could think about was getting the execution of her soul and dignity over with as rapidly as possible. Lord Medwell misunderstood her suddenly speeded up crawling. "Don't be so eager, my dear. You are acting as hungry as you were last night." He laughed and backed away when she reached him. She crawled forward two more paces, then reached up for his cock. He backed away again, laughing at her. "Come on," he coaxed, and moved back until his hips were against the bed. He sat down and spread his legs. Sue could see his testicles dangling like ripe, flesh colored fruit above the brown puckered opening of his anus. His cock stuck up in the air at an outrageous angle, and occasionally it throbbed and jerked spasmodically.

Sue crawled up on the platform and to the bedside, no longer conscious of moving or acting. She was merely an automated robot, incapable of independent action or thought.

"Now, my dear. For the first photograph…"

She shuddered in revulsion as she bent forward to pay unwilling homage to the waving, purple and white penis. She could see angry red veins running up its white and blue trunk and the throbbing purple hooded head already seeping a white thick fluid. His balls were high and tight now in his purple scrotum; his gray pubic hair lay like white foliage struck down by hail. Inside her mind a voice kept crying out, "Ask him once again."; but she refused to heed it, knowing instinctively that it would be useless. Besides, she knew her abject begging and pleading only added to his sadistic enjoyment. She closed her eyes and swallowed, muttering a silent prayer, "Dick… forgive me. Please forgive me, darling, for what I'm about to do."

Her lips closed wetly about the smooth rubbery head. Lord Medwell groaned. His eyes were bulging in unconcealed lust as he stared down at the top of her blonde young head. The knob of his cock tasted like sweet soap, the viscous fluid seeping from the glans was slightly saline with a faint odor. He moved the rod in her mouth. "Suck a little, nibble a little, my dear."

"I was dreaming… I am dreaming… I am dreaming," Sue said to herself with each thrust of the hated cock in and out of her mouth. She had dreamed of doing this last night; it had been terribly exciting, terribly enjoyable… but that had been with her husband! She felt nothing now but despair and humiliation. She followed his directions, mindlessly licking and nibbling and tongue teasing as he ordered. She was sure that it would never end, but it did with Lord Medwell's saying, "That's enough for now."

She removed her mouth from his cock. She kneeled there, head down in subjugation, waiting for whatever cruelty was to come next.

"Get on the bed," Lord Medwell said. Spiritlessly, Sue did as she was instructed. She lay there, legs slightly apart, staring up at the ceiling – not making any effort to cover her body. Lord Medwell gazed speculatively down at her. "You aren't showing nearly enough enthusiasm, my dear. Perhaps we should turn that little furnace of yours up higher." He walked away from the bed and came back a moment later with the second photograph. He held it before her yes. "Shall we try for number two?" When Sue did not answer, he slapped her with the picture. The sharp edge of the paper cut the underside of her chin, drawing a thin line of blood. "Answer me," he snarled.

"Yes…"

"Yes, what, you slut?"

"Yes. Let us do number two."

"There is a vulgarism – American, I believe called 'eating pussy'. Some of our lesser educated Englishmen call it 'cunt scouring'. Now you must ask me in a nice way – using either of those vulgarisms."

Sue closed her eyes and sighed. "I want you to eat pussy."

"Whose?"

"Mine."

"Say it then."

She sighed again and said, without any inflection at all, "I want you to eat my pussy."

"Please?"