Monique had to press Denise's head between her muscled thighs. The other girl was coming so violently under the violence of Max's assault that she forgot completely to caress her friend. Both girls came together and only then Max stopped. He gave Denise a couple of minutes break. Then, removing his hard penis from her slimy vagina, he put the head of his tool against the puckered and narrow mouth of her ass. He pushed himself in slowly but firmly. At first Denise was scared, even hurt, but oh, what a sweet feeling for Max to be penetrating in that nearly completely virgin ass. Max's forces were renewed at the mere thought of what he was doing, and he accelerated his pace. The girl was not feeling any pleasure-it was all pain for her-but Max was enjoying himself thoroughly and he did not release her before coming another time, and spitting his hot sap in her insides.
After a little trip to the bathroom, the three of them, naked, took some Champagne and that liquor somewhat revived the temper of Denise. Once again Monique came under the expert sucking of her girl friend's tongue and Max enjoyed the pleasures of her warm cunt. But he did not come before Monique had been satisfied and then when Denise could concentrate fully on what was being done to her, he slowly but powerfully fucked her once again, bringing her to the edge of madness in pleasure, giving her all the joys she could expect from love. Once again then they met around a bottle of Champagne, then they dressed and got up to go. Max took out of his wallet two twenty dollar bills, and stuck in their middle part two long gilded needles. He slowly came to Denise…
She looked at him, then at the banknotes, and at the thin needles, and suddenly she understood. She lowered her head, still hesitating, then Max murmured:
“Up to the head… in the nipples.”
The girl gave the needles another close look. Very thin, about 2/3 inch long, the metal was shining in the light of the room.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Monique behind Denise, opened the blouse, and pulling the girl's arms behind her back, propped the arrogant breasts. Denise put her head on Monique's shoulder, and nodded affirmatively to Max. Then she closed her eyes and waited.
“There?” inquired Max.
“Yes,” was the whispered answer from the girl.”
She uttered a short moan, the kind of cry a hurt kitten would utter, and then as if it were glued to the firm breast, the banknote was concealing the whole mass of the globe. The girl was shivering; she looked at her torso, then at Max, intensely, straight in the eyes. She panted again when he pinned the other bill on her other teat. Monique then took her friend by the hand and brought her in front of a wall mirror. Then Max took the needles out of the tortured breasts and he buttoned the blouse.
Denise burst out in tears. Monique tied the coral beads around the neck of Denise and gave her the shawl. Half forgetting the pain, the girl tried to smile.
Max took both girls, one to her hotel, the other to her villa. He did not know what to do to thank Monique for what she had just been doing for him, but she was as happy as he was from the whole story. They parted, each of them perfectly satisfied over an exciting evening.
Monique dreamed all night about the girl, her rape, and her fabulous teats.
The next day she received from Chang, through Max, an invitation card:
“In order to celebrate the sublime feast of the sacred Hevea, at the time when the bountiful sap runs from the trees, Tai and Chang will receive their friends, and are inviting the pearl of the Occident to come in front of them to open her deep flower and receive the tribute of the supple lashes, according to the rites of Annam.”
The second page of the invitation showed in an exquisite manner, a woman knelt at the feet of the impassive Buddha, her thighs wide apart, displaying her most intimate charm to the eyes of a row of Asiatics kneeling behind her…
Already shivering with anticipated pleasures, Monique admired the little painting, and immediately telephoned Max to tell him that she was accepting. They agreed that she had to be completely dressed in black. And later in the evening Monique went and met Max, who, in his best tuxedo, was waiting for her in the nearby woods.
After the ritual welcome they entered the main living room, following the little bare-breasted Asiatic girl. On the threshold, Monique, a little shy, looked inside. They had replaced the sardonical smiling Buddha by the luminous glass one; he was assuming the same attitude, and his stretched arms seemed to call for Monique's embrace. He was propped on the huge mirror, and was reflected in its clearness as in some deep lake.
On each side of the Buddha, were Tai and Chang, in their best ceremonial attire. In half a circle, were six Asiatics, squatting on cushions. In front of each of them a cup, and in front of the cup a little bulb, dark purple…
Tai got up to greet the visitors, and holding their hands, brought them in front of the Buddha. They halted in front of the idol, and Tai seemed to pray. Then they went by Chang, who asked Max to sit by his side.
Tai took Monique with her on the other side of the Buddha, then showing her a china teapot, she said:
“At the solemn celebration of the feast of the Hevea, it is customary, when a European woman is invited to our rites, to give her the honor of serving the tea to other guests. However to do so she has to assume the same position that the women in our countries do, when they take care of their homes. That is, squat on the ground, your knees must not touch, and it is also part of the rite that the lamp of the ancestors must be between your feet.
Tai gave Monique the teapot and bowed in front of her, then she sat down. Monique quite upset came to the first Asian and stood her feet on each side of the luminous purple bulb. The man, without any expression on his face was looking at the elegant curves of the legs and thighs. Monique understood then what Tai was expecting from her, and in the silence of the room she opened her legs and placed her feet on each side of the little lamp.
Then slowly she squatted on the ground, her knees wide apart. Her dress, in a half circle, concealed to the other guests the little lamp, but in front of her nothing was concealed. The material of her dress was rolled up on her legs, and the man could see under the skirt, the thighs, white over the black silk stockings and the crotch, with its golden fleece, and under it the pubis, and even far deeper, the puckered mouth of her asshole.
Monique was hesitating; she felt at the same time, rebellion, shame, and desire. She did not know to which feeling she had to surrender. She was so absorbed in her meditation that she nearly missed the man's cup, and thought that she had poured the tea out of the cup. She looked at the man, but he was not paying any attention to his cup-he was watching Monique between her legs as if hypnotized. Otherwise his face did not betray any emotion, and his hands were concealed by the long and wide sleeves of his ceremonial dress. Little by little the cup was filled up to the brim, and Monique finally got up. The man did not even so much as look at her when she did so. Monique however noticed that he had closed his eyes, perhaps in order to keep more clearly in mind the vision of that treasure that he had been contemplating while she was pouring the hot drink in his cup.
Slowly Monique walked in front of the next guest and then again she knelt and squatted on the ground, revealing to the eyes of the oriental the secret of her intimacies while the hot tea was filling his cup.
One by one, each cup was filled, and at each time Monique felt a strange voluptuousness in exposing to the eyes of those perfectly unknown men, her most secret parts. Then suddenly, when she had just finished pouring the tea in the last cup, a strange melody was piped in the room. And the young Asiatic girl that had introduced them in the living room mimed in front of the guests a ritual dance.
But had that dance been created to be danced in such a way? The young girl was completely naked. On her a sort of turban was posed on her hair, as a crown, and a long necklace of black pearls, with a huge stone encrusted at the end of the loop. She wore bracelets with the same motif. She was barefooted. Monique could not understand all three symbols of the so-called sacred dance but she could see the looks that the men were giving the girl.
Their eyes attached to her cunt, watching any movement that could open that sweet and pink mouth. The Annamite was quite supple and it really was a pleasure to see her body twirl around the men; she did not reveal her most secret part in that dance.
Monique leaned over Tai's shoulder and asked:
“How old is she?”
“Fourteen. Supple isn't she? Her breasts are a little too small as far as the Master's taste is concerned, but she has other qualities.”
And Monique saw Tai smile for the first time.
