I had reached a fair old clip in the three or four paces it took to reach the wall and was rewarded with a satisfying 'Oof!' from Bambi as she took the brunt of my irresistible object meeting the immoveable architecture. The grip on my neck broke and she sank to the floor.
Not far though. I lifted and twisted her, and grabbed one wrist and a shackle.
'You bas…!'
Bambi regained her senses, but not in time. I caught hold of her other wrist and stretched her to tiptoe. Snap! She was pinioned with her face to the rough dungeon wall. I stepped smartly back to avoid a wildly swinging foot.
'Harry…'
The small voice from the bed was barely audible above the sound of twanging bedsprings and Bambi's snarls. I ignored it. There was work to be done.
I looked around for a suitable implement of retribution. There! Perfect – a sjamboek, the short handled whip beloved of cruel South African overseers. I took the whip from its hook and tested it with a sharp crack.
Bambi glared at me over her shoulder. I gripped the neck of her shiny blue dress and ripped it in half. Her magnificent back and buttocks were sheened in sweat.
'Harry! No!'
Bambi's eyes had fear in them now. I drew back the whip and lashed it across her shoulders. Bambi cried out in pain, then again and again as I whipped her back. Weals appeared and almost merged. She twisted and turned but the shackles held firm.
Her head began to fall and I shifted my aim. The rawhide bit into her muscular behind and thighs. She arched her back and her lips drew back from her gleaming teeth. I rained down blow after blow, concentrating now on the tender tops of her thighs.
At first Bambi cried out with each blow, but now she whimpered with eyes tight closed. I stopped for a few seconds, considering the raw stripes on her sweat-slicked skin. She trembled and her knees sagged.
I drew my arm back and brought the rawhide down from on high, all the Neptune beef brought to bear on her reddened backside. The crack of leather on sweat and flesh echoed round the dungeon.
Bambi's back arched impossibly. She screamed. Her head was thrown back so far her face hung upside down looking into the room. She hung at that angle for a full half minute, her terrible cry filling the room longer than any human had the right to feed it with life breath.
At last she convulsed forward and lay with her face against the wall, all her weight on the shackles. She panted desperately and tears poured down her cheeks.
At last Bambi half raised her head and looked up at me through swollen eyes.
'Harry – that was de best ever!'
I kissed Bambi's forehead and released the shackles. She sagged against me with her arms around my neck. I kissed her again and looked over her shoulder at the bed.
Jay was still tied to the brass bed head, but now she was twisted face down with her knees drawn up to her side. A pair of legs with flexed knees protruded between her thighs. Jay's bottom was moving up and down to a familiar rhythm. I caught a glimpse of rumpled blue sarong and recognized Clara.
Botti lay on the bed beside them, the dildo gone. Her wet cleft gleamed through dark curly hair. From the angle of Jay's and Clara's hips, and from various movements, noises and other subtle clues, I gathered that Clara had commandeered the dildo and had adopted the recumbent male position to Jay's girl-on-top.
Jay's legs were spread over Clara, the black dildo just visible between her spread buttocks with each thrust. Jay has a lovely bum, well enough cushioned to be one of Ruben's less statuesque and more attractive models.
Yes – a lovely bum.
I spotted a tube of SupaLoob on a shelf by the bed…
I've been to some hectic orgies but even the most frenetic tangle of sex-crazed bodies could barely rival the melee in Henryk's dungeon. Bound to the bed and manically shafted by Botti Boobsy, who had an up and down stroke like the piston of a high-speed locomotive, I was already struggling to catch my breath when my dear husband burst into the room with the matching Boobsy. Sometime during the ensuing sadomasochistic fracas, which made a Bruce Lee movie look like The Sound of Music, a familiar Latin figure slipped into the room, snatched Botti's monster dildo and insinuated herself beneath my writhing body. Things were looking up. Actually down, as there proved to be just enough slack in my wrist bonds to allow me to turn over and straddle my South American amor. I had a feeling I shouldn't be turning my back on Botti but as she was at least temporarily disarmed, I decided to let down my guard. I eased my traumatized pussy over the enormous dong and began to grind rhythmically, with less speed and strength than Botti had employed, but a good deal more feeling. Clara pushed her fingers through my sweat-soaked hair and I kissed her, keenly aware of a sudden, rather portentous silence in the dungeon. It seemed that Harry had stopped thrashing Bambi and I was just about to turn my head to see what they were doing, when something slippery and cool pressed against the cleft of my bottom. Strong fingers pulled my head back, out of Clara's grasp, and upwards, making me arch my spine until I felt it would break. I felt a warm, hairy torso against my naked back. This was no Boobsy. Slowly, as if seeking to imprint some message indelibly upon my mind and body, Harry pushed his cock into my ass. I felt my face burn, a fine sheen of perspiration misted my skin as he entered me, filling me full, stretching me painfully wide. I could feel where the hard shaft of the dildo met his cock, separated by the merest slippery wall of flesh. Suddenly, I was incoherent, my insides crammed full of wet, solid, thrusting. Afterwards, Harry told me that I cried and swore, but all I recall is being entered, smooth and sweet and sharp and hurtful, painful, piercing, endlessly wet and full, so full… it wasn't long before we came, all three of us, although it was quite impossible to determine whose orgasm came first or lasted longest in the achingly beautiful vortex of desire. Eventually, one of the Boobsy's voices filtered through my consciousness and I realized that I lay alone on the bed. Dazed, I looked up as Harry leaned over me to unfasten my wrists and I shivered violently as the dungeon door opened and a large figure loomed in the entrance.
'Found ya! Jumpin' Jehosophat, watcha bin doin' down here? Y'all look like you bin ten rounds with Mohammed Ali.'
I manfully focused on the rotund form of Chad. His baseball cap was rather rakishly skewed over one eye and there were several lipstick kisses of varying hues upon his chubby cheeks. The Boobsy Twins adjusted their miniscule dresses to a remote semblance of pseudo-respectability and linked their arms through his.
'We'll come quietly!'
Chad grinned.
'Ah doubt that, ladies. How'd ya think ah found y'all? Ah never heard such a whoopin' and a hollerin'…'
I appeared to have lost the use of my legs. Clara had disappeared again and I thought I saw a brief glimpse of a blue sarong vanishing up the stairs to the main floor of the building. I swung my feet over the edge of the bed and wiggled my toes to regain the circulation.
'The lady vanishes. My goodness, that was quite a session.'
I looked up at Harry, who was ruefully examining his shirt, which was missing a couple of buttons and sported a semi-ripped sleeve. I slipped into Mae West mode.
'Goodness had nothing to do with it! I'm afraid you're going to have to carry me, darling.'
With a primeval grunt, my beloved swept me off the bed and over his shoulder. With luck we would conquer the stairs without a hernia.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: COMING TOGETHER
Fortunately there weren't too many stairs, or my Himalaya act may have come unstuck. Thrashing Bambi had been a strenuous process, and having Jay's ass without squashing her and Clara into immobility had put stress on yet another set of muscles. I was still half-hard too – I ration my entries to Jay's rear end and this had been one of the best.
