"Driving Daisy Crazy" - читать интересную книгу автора (Unknown)

Chapter Seven

"Are you sure?" Cranston asks.

"The reason I'm asking, Randy, is that this seems like quite an acceleration over your original plan."

Buck shrugs.

"I could be wrong, but I don't think I am.

"The Baroness suspects me of something.

"Maybe even more than suspects.

"So I want to progress the game a little faster.

"That way, if I have to bring it to an end, to go in a different direction, at least I'll have had the satisfaction of getting through that phase.

"Hey, if I'm wrong about the Baroness, which I hope I am, if she's got nothing, if she's the one on a fishing expedition tomorrow, then no harm done.

"In fact, it'll be a test of the degree to which I've succeeded in messing up Daisy's mind if we can slow down the ‘progress' of our little game, go back to the previous step with no harm done."

"Still, you know, she'll know tonight.

"Won't be a doubt in her mind as to who we are."

"True, true.

"On the other hand, will it have been the real us, or merely a development in this series of dreams she's been having?"

Cranston grins.

"You see my point, n'est-ce pas?

"If we have actually succeeded in fucking her up so far that she can't tell the difference between dream and reality, just think, Cranston!

"Think what that would mean, by way of control!

"Consider the implications!

"Why, there could be not just one, but a hundred, a thousand Daisies running around, all fucked up by yours truly!

"I would almost be tempted to turn her loose in the world, a walking tribute to my genius, to the expertise with which I pursue my hobby, my pastime, that leisure to which all us hard working executive types are entitled.

"I would follow her progress at a distance.

"Perhaps even keep in touch, you know?

"Maybe go so far as to invite her back for a return engagement.

"Ah, Cranston, I should have indulged myself in this way long ago!

"To torture and destroy the body-what is that?

"The pleasure of a few hours, a few days.

"But to attack the mind!

"To allow the body to survive, to function, while changing the very world in which it exists forever-that is power indeed!

"I do so hope to be able to see this thing with Daisy through.

"If not, well, still there is the delicious pleasure of seeing her shock, her terror at the denouement when all, all is revealed!

"Only one thing more to do then, of course.

"No choice, so it can't be helped.

"Still, sooner or later-well, no use saying the obvious, is there?

"So. Bottom line, we go tonight with just the half masks.

"Where is she now, by the way?"

"By the pool."

"Well. I just may join her for a swim before supper.

"Interesting, you know, to be with a person and to know something that is going to happen to them of which they have no suspicion."

"I've noticed that."

"Yes, well, if you'll excuse me-"

And Buck leaves the den, his robe flapping open as he heads toward the pool.

"She missed yesterday afternoon, as you can see, but I called the chopper this morning and she's back out there, looking good as ever," Vanessa says.

"I'm sure we need have no qualms concerning her until after my lunch with Randy tomorrow," Cynthia states.

"Then, of course, depending on the reaction I get, or more accurately induce, we'll see."

"You mean we might still scratch the operation?"

"Oh, no, no.

"That's a go, regardless.

"The worse that could happen is that we look ridiculous, warning the girl and offering rescue where there is no perceived danger."

"Not to mention the little matter of breaking and entering," Nancy interjects.

"Oh, come now. Randy Buck may be many things, but petty is not one of them.

"No, we break in and there's nothing happening, we end up with red faces and he gets a good laugh out of it.

"I doubt he'll even stoop to cashing my check for the damages."

"But then, what about the girl?

"What if she doesn't believe us about the danger she's in and decides we're a trio of nuts?"

Cynthia shrugs.

"If she stays, she's dead.

"Buck is just perverse and perverted enough to see to it and then throw it right in my face, no doubt in full detail, having so arranged it that there's no proof."

"He'd kill somebody just for a ‘gotcha'?"

"Knowing him, you have to ask?"

And knowing you, Nancy thinks, I don't have to ask if you realize that you may be creating a mortal danger for the girl which might not otherwise exist, pushing Buck over an edge he possibly would not have wandered near, on his own.

Randy Buck sits on the edge of the pool, leaning back on his hands, knees parted.

As Daisy sucks his cock.

It was her idea, begun playfully enough, a natural development of body contact as they swam nude together.

And Buck wants this.

He wants her to become intimately familiar with the details of his body.

He wants to impress upon her this particular shape, that specific texture.

So that, if she encounters it again, say, in a dream, she will recognize it as being him.

But Daisy thinks that this is just an affirmation, after having had time to think it over, that he wants her, wants to be intimate with her.

So that she can become mistress of the manner, and queen of all she surveys.

So that her enthusiasm as she sucks his cock has nothing to do with his sexual attraction for her, which she would consider, in her own parlance, "okay".

The important thing here is that she is making progress in their interpersonal relationship.

Not that she is sucking him, but that he is going along with it, with her, is what matters here.

Which, of course, fits in perfectly with his plan for tonight, not only on the score of recognition through familiarization, but also because she will take the edge off, will give him staying power in the free-form, free-for-all action he has in mind for tonight.

So that he will not be a "fast pop", even though that too will serve just as well for his overall intentions toward her.

But it would not be as much fun.

And he intends to have a lot of fun tonight.

So that, at his meeting tomorrow with the Baroness, he will be calm, relaxed, contented.

And present the very picture of the aging, overweight executive, distinguished and benign in his later years.

And convince her that his past… indiscretions are truly in his past, not to be repeated, enlarged upon, or otherwise undertaken anew.

Or, on the other hand, that they are being so cleverly, so covertly conducted that she has not a prayer of discovering them, let alone trying to stop him.

He does not know, has not yet decided; he will play it by ear, and with the advantage of a thoroughly drained crankcase to clear his head.

Speaking of which Daisy warms to her task.

She actually surprises herself by feeling the warmth of initial arousal deep in her abdomen as she continues to suck his thick organ with its great, broad head.

As she explores the indentation of the eye with the tip of her tongue, then sends it round and round, over the surface of the head, taut and throbbing with vibrant life, then around the thick, flaring flange at the rear.

And now, she is bobbing up and down, sucking the thick shaft, lowering her head until the battering ram of the head bumps the soft palate at the back of her mouth, at the entrance to her throat each time.

Up and down, up and down she goes, her wet lips and tongue sliding in full contact with his turgid organ at all times.

And he is beginning to respond with his mind, so deft, so effective is her cocksucking.

So that he no longer looks down on her as from a distance, a cool observer of the hot action, his brain compartmented to permit arousal in the midst of scheming.

Rather, now he allows his mind to give in to the exquisite sensations of sexual pleasure, relaxing, surrendering to the mindless absorbtion of the pleasure which inundates his rampant intruder from every direction as it disappears and reappears in her tirelessly working mouth.

Higher and higher he rises, through level after level of pleasure, each more intense, more exciting than the last.

So that now; he is floating in the delicious, lascivious lap of sexual luxury.

He is permeated with the surfeit of his voluptuous, erotic stimulation.

Gone for the moment his perverted schemes, his exalted position, his wealth, this world.

Gone is everything, including time and space, up and down, replaced now with delight become ecstasy, with ecstasy transformed into rapture.

Gone is all but the feeling and the feeling and the feeling.

And now, head thrown back, chin in the air, the sunlight turning the insides of his closed eyelids into a rosy light show, chest heaving in his sexual excitement, he comes.

He comes and comes, as Daisy swallows his load. And not until she is certain that the last spasm has passed does she relent, releasing his still tumescent organ, pulling her head back to look at it, close range, as, glistening with her saliva, it begins slowly to wilt.

And now, she ducks her head under the water, cooling it off, cooling her ardor.

And swimming under water until she reaches the far end of the pool.

And not looking at him as he gets up, puts his robe back on, and goes back inside.

Back and forth, back and forth she swims, easy, relaxed, dreamy strokes taking her buoyant body effortlessly from side to side.

As, high up in the cloudless, azure sky, the blades of a helicopter beat faintly.

Oh, no! she thinks, not again!

But she knows differently, her limbs unable to respond as she struggles to fight off the numbing, dizzying descent into unconsciousness which has become, for the third night running now, her method of falling asleep.

She seems to hear a faint hiss from the vent near the ceiling, the one she had seen Cranston doing something with, the one behind whose grating she thought she saw the glint of something shiny.

But such minor details are forgotten as she lapses into unconsciousness.

Only to be awakened what seems to her like an instant later by the acrid scent of ammonia, which fades very quickly, forgotten by the fantastic scene now before her.

There are Eric and Randy Buck.

These she recognizes at once, even in the pale moonlight, behind their black half-masks.

Why did they even bother? she wonders, vaguely.

And that third one.

Could it be?

It is. Cranston. She is sure of it.

Even though with no clothes on, he looks larger, more muscular.

And that cock of his!

Even in her fear, she cannot help but notice its gigantic size.

And it figures that a creep like Eric would have an equally creepy cock, long and thin.

Eric especially unnerves her, his pallor making his body appear to have a gelid glow to it in the pale moonlight.

She looks at her hands.

She is not bound this time.

She is free to move.

Except that, no sooner she realizes this, than she is not.

Because they grab her, two of them, forcing her down on the bed from which she has only just sat up.

And Cranston, he of the monster cock, ploughs his huge erection into her so hard that he knocks the wind out of her.

And flips over, so that she is on top, he on the bottom.

And now, Eric is sticking his tongue into her ass hole.

Which can mean only one thing.

With a practiced movement, Eric grabs her hips and raises her up, off most of Cranston's ponderous prick.

And deftly inserts his precision instrument of a hard-on in, in, into her ass hole.

And now, Cranston thrusts up from below.

So that she has two fully inserted cocks inside her, fore and aft.

And Randy, not to be left out, grins as he gets on his knees at the head of the bed, then spreads them apart, lowering his body until his cock, which he bends down with one hand so that it sticks straight out, opposite her mouth.

As he grabs the back of her head with his free hand, yanking back on her hair, forcing her mouth open.

So that now, all three orifices are filled with big, hot, stiff dick.

And now, Eric begins bouncing up and down. Activating the springs of the bed, so that they provide the motion of the sandwich of which she is the meat.

So that the two cocks, in ass hole and cunt, alternate their piston action, one going in as the other withdraws, then vice versa.

As Randy pumps his cock into her mouth, fucking her face.

She cannot believe this is happening, on the one hand; on the other she finds it equally impossible to believe that this is merely a dream, and that it is not real.

Reality and imagination, awake or asleep, it would seem that the concepts are becoming unclear, merging into each other.

Is this real, or a dream?

Or is it a dream within a dream, so that, in order to get back to reality, she will have to wake up twice in a row, whatever that means?

Right now, she feels more confused than frightened.

Especially since her body seems to want to respond to what is happening.

That cock in her mouth, surely she could not be dreaming that! But then, why not?

Is this not merely an exotically erotic replay of what happened at the pool this afternoon?

Or was the pool the reality and this a subconscious or unconscious replay?

It's all so mystifying.

And here, now, her body, telling her to enjoy herself with these three, now revealed to her for who they are, but for those silly little masks which cover their eyes.

Or is this the next step in the dream progression from her waltzing fuck with the three hooded figures, whose cocks so resemble those which even now invade her orifices.

But whatever it is, the feeling is intense. Uncomfortable at first, now she loosens up, even managing to relax herself, by a (conscious?) effort of will.

How terribly convenient of her imagination, she thinks, to use three real men, rather than going to the trouble of dreaming up three abstract males.

Such as the hooded figures, a convenient device for delivering the male goodies while skipping over the details of the men themselves.

That showed real imagination, but hers or theirs? And why does it all begin with a dizzying fall into unconsciousness, awakening to an ammonia smell, and then lapsing back into induced unconsciousness.

"I believe it's your story anyway from here on in, isn't it, Belladonna?"

The discord between the two dominatrixes Lucrezia and Dominique over possession of the sadosexslave nymphette Belladonna resulted in Lucrezia's abandonment of her acting career, her flight to Casanegra and the establishment there of her jungle sex retreat, in partnership with Dominique's former slavelover Buster.

Still bent on destroying Lucrezia absolutely, Dominique subsequently invaded Casanegra in company with Belladonna. After a vicious struggle, which also involved jungle banditos, river pirates, and government forces acting as mercenaries, the two dominatrixes came to a rapprochement whereby they would share control of Casanegra's lucrative erotic enterprises.

Belladonna then returned to New York to manage the dominatrixes Stateside business affairs. Left to her own devices, the wily nymphomaniac evolved her own design to achieve sexual supremacy.

Her association with Doctor Sandor Kroughleigh, Slash Buckler, Dennis Marsfield, Asani Saba, and the man who in the United States was known as Nick Steel enabled her to bring together the disparate elements she required to execute her plans.

And Belladonna's introduction to Christabel had supplied Belladonna with the perfect foil.

After Belladonna had seen Christabel off on her jaunt to Casanegra-for which Belladonna had made the necessary travel arrangements-Belladonna was ready to undertake her own part of the quest.

Belladonna eased over the side of the motorized dugout canoe and glided up the slick riverbank toward the oiled, naked woman who stood spreadlegged, arms akimbo with hands on her waist, beneath a canopy of the wild orchids native to the surrounding rainforest. Belladonna recognized the thickly nippled tits, turgid clit, and florid snatchlips that tumbled from the flocculence of Florencita's bushy cunt.

"Greetings, my little gringa flower," Florencita said with a wide smile. "The message I received was ambiguous as to your intent. Is it love or money? The fuck or the fight?"

"All of the above," Belladonna said.

"I need a belt. I think you can help."

"Come to Florencita, gringuita. But be prepared to suffer on your path to redemption."

Belladonna slung down her backpack.

Wiped the grimy sweat from her face.

Drew her wet hair back into a ponytail. Twirled the tresses. Tied them into a topknot.

Then Belladonna snapped open her bush vest. Glossy boobs fell out, bared nipples glaring. Navel brimming with sweat.

Sharpening her gaze on Florencita's musculature, Belladonna opened her khakis. Stripped down to her jungle-camouflage combat boots.

"I'm going to fuck you, Florencita. Bitchkiss you with my cunnylips. Platypuss you with my snatch. Cuke you in the ass with my clit."

"Brave words from a fucksick little nympho. I should allow you to leave your boots on-you'll need every advantage you can get."

"I thought all was fair in love and war."

"So it is."

Belladonna sprang through the air. She brought one gam forward and pointed her toes.

Her snatch snapped apart as she landed athwart Florencita's neck. Florencita gripped Belladonna's assmeat and held the attacking gringa high on her face, chewing at her clit.

Belladonna wrenched herself from Florencita's grip at the same instant Florencita sought to throw her off her face. Florencita tugged one of her own tits and frigged through her cunt as Belladonna scampered in a crouch.

Florencita assessed the situation and made her move. Boobs bouncing, she swayed in close. Swerved as Belladonna reached out for her ankles.

Belladonna flew back as Florencita's foot caught her in the face. Florencita kicked her in the quim. Pummeled her mouth with her tits.

Belladonna yanked up at Florencita's nippletips. Drew the breasts our like taffy. Florencita's bazooms were elongated like two bananas as Belladonna hauled her in a circle.

Florencita broke Belladonna's grip. Her tits snapped back onto her chest.

Boobs bounced on her ribcage.

Belladonna renewed her onslaught.

Her mouth met Florencita's pussy.

Her hands creamed her fanny.

Florencita went liquid in her grasp.

"Aaaaah."

Belladonna sank the point of her nose into Florencita's posies.

The perfume of Florencita's pussy snapped into her flaring nostrils.

Essence of cuntoils sapped up Belladonna's nasal passages. Through her sinuses.

And into Belladonna's brain.

At that point Florencita came.

"Ngh eaugh yiiiii!"

The gush from her gash rushed over Belladonna's slavering mouthlips.

Florencita's body flushed.

Her ass shivered.

Quim quivered.

Belladonna bent over backward beneath Florencita's splayed thighs. She slimed her tongue up and down Florencita's slit, between the lips.

Worked her fingers into the split between Florencita's asscheeks.

Belladonna chewed through chocolate-scented cunt. Bristled beaver barbed between her molars.

"Unh."

Tufts of twat fur tore as Belladonna fanged cream coated cuntflesh with her canines. Incisors clicked together over cut.

"Ooooooh."

Then Belladonna felt the-hit.

At first it was a light flicker across the skin of her back. Like the scamper of an ant.

Then the snick against her neck.

The sublime thwack upon her spine.

Battering updn her buttocks.

Belladonna ripped her jaws away from Florencita's fragrant frouftou. Braced herself for the new taste. Swiveled her head around.

Took leather in the face.

"Chivito," Florencita sighed.

Belladonna grinned, groveled as the heavily scented young man snapped the beaded belt across her boobs. Chivito's prick pointed out from his billowing balls straight at Belladonna's teeth.

The taste of oiled leather disarmed Belladonna completely. She swooned headlong, defenseless, into the muck of the jungle.

"Waaaaah!"

Chivito's menacing mouthlips shot forth a straight red tongue like a snakeprick from his burgeoning facecheeks. Ballocks redolent of vanillaorchid pods hung low, clinging sweatily to the insides of his upper thighs. Teeming penis, on the rise, whipped into Belladonna's underbelly.

Chivito's ram charged as though enraged.

Curved horn bulled toward bung.

Prong probed pussmeat.

Dirked in fast.

Then gored her up the ass.

"Ni-ni-ni-ni-ni!"

The beak of the prick slipped out quickly, then goaded her groin. Grinning penis insinuating itself into her smirking quim.

Spilling semen into her fertile crescent.

"Uuuuu-eaugh."

Belladonna drooled as Chivito wrapped the leather strapping about her neck. He drew her across the moist soil toward Florencita's canopied divan, upon which the sexmistress sat cross-legged.

"Make no mistake, my gringa nectar-bud," Florencita said.

"And you shall walk away with what you came for. One mistake more, and you will never walk away: You will be my sex slave for eternity."

Belladonna kept her yip shut. There were all sorts of things she might have said. All she wanted was a fucking belt, after all. Something fancy to have someone hit her with.

But there was something about all the ritual, mystery-this sordid fantasy-that Belladonna saw as a route to the pinnacle of orgasm.

That elusive ultimate climax-the search for which had driven Belladonna to the depths of nymphomaniacal debauchery and depravity. Had left her desperate and deprived, so that even her yampirish depredations of flesh and sensual dissolution left her unsated by the fuck and suck.

So Ixchel was said to reign over daytime delights, her rainbow belt offering the frolics of pissmist, fancy-weave bondage. The belt of Ixtab held darker joys. For Ixtab's domain was the night, her belt of beaded jewels the starry Milky Way. As lxchel the rainbow was mother to the arts of refined weaving, decorative leather, metal, and gems, so Ixtab was sister to the oiled cord, the slimed twine. ixtab was the singing water snake who strangled as she suckfucked. Her devotees were denizens of the evening-hunters working their bows, blowguns, snares; assassins; persons with a mission.

And that mission was Belladonna's.

Lips gripped in determined paroxism, Belladonna dripped her snout at Florencita's briarpatch. Felt Florencita encircle her shoulders in embrace. Twitched to Chivito's switch of pliant leather against her rosy rumpmeat.

And the entry of hardwood pecker into her from behind. She lost her mind and whined.

Chocolatey labia now encased her face. Pyramidal nippletips hardened in her grasp.

Animated asscheeks.

Menacing mouthlips.

Labyrinthine labia.

Pullulating penis.

Pyramidal nippletips.

Orchidine ballocks.

All of this was hers.

All of this and more.

But it was leather she craved for.

Leather they gave her.

And Belladonna was grateful for this. For the belt of many powers thwacked across her face was Belladonna's filament of grace.

"When do I get it?" Christabel sniveled.

"I want one of those belts."

Yancey spoke to her gently.

"When you have earned it."