'Yes, Phillip,' she sobbed at last. 'Yes, Phillip.'
'Weep,' he hit her again. 'You've been trying to weep for days.
Cry, it's easy.' He struck her a final time and threw the cane into the corner of the room. 'Don't have me despise you, Carol,' he warned.
'It makes me want you too much, and then I'll never let you go free.
Not for a minute of your life. I can have you as long as I want you.
I've made you and I'll have you, and this will be no fairy tale, no Pygmalion. You'll never enchant me and go free.'
He knelt over her body and kissed her tenderly on the tear-wet mouth. 'If you want me naked, take my clothes off. Just ask nicely, baby, and you can have anything you want.' Her hands trembled, afraid to touch him. 'It's all right, go ahead,' he consoled her.
Once more she undid the scarf, this time gently, as if the patterned silk, too roughly handled, might bruise his flesh, as if it were a child's game, and he might suddenly pound her trembling hands fleshless. He nuzzled his mouth against the small tender depression at the base of her neck. He stretched out muscleless on the huge bed and whispered, exhausted and deeply excited, 'Undress me, my angel. Put me to sleep, my angel.'
He pulled her body flat on his, naked against his robe and trousers.
She hid her face on his exposed chest. Her body pulsated pain. 'My angel is hot,' he comforted her. 'She wants to be fucked, but she hates her Daddy.' He ran his finger along the wet sucking edge of her vagina. The finger traveled carelessly around and around the opening, not touching the feverish inner wall. Finally, almost thoughtlessly, he slipped against the small erect mound of feeling. She moaned with need, 'Phillip, Phillip.'
He removed his hand and mixed his fingers into her soft yellow hair.
'Maybe there isn't time for me to undress, baby?'
'No, no,' she begged, 'now.' And out of the maze of words, Phillip knew that she wanted him now. His prick was high and urgent and he quickly, wordlessly, forced his arm between their pressed hips and let his rod come free over the folds of his robe and the striped diplomat pants.
He forced the bone of flesh sharp inside her cunt, inside the hungry mouth. She howled and sucked it up. He was motionless under her and she rotated her ass eagerly, feeling him on every side and back to the wall of her womb.
Then he put a hand tightly on her buttocks, and held her stiff and paralyzed above him. She collapsed at his touch and waited, waited.
He moved up and down in her cunt, slowly, surely, all the way. Up and down till his prick was a narcotic, fucking all the way into her brain.
She stretched her arms free on either side of him and rolled on his stomach, fucked coolly and thoroughly into her soul.
The first time she shuddered and came, he kept the speed of his throbbing, penetrating prick unchanged, moving in and out as if he had not felt the trembling, screaming body above him. He kept the steady fuck that she thought could go on all night, that she wanted all her life, in and out of her with monster precision, rubbing the center of feeling with deadly detached accuracy.
The beat inside of her was as irrevocable, as essential as the uncontrolled thumping of her heart. His prick was a heart inside her, or a hand, or a mouth, or a spoon, shoving in food, feeding her poison.
Her second orgasm, hypnotized and uncontrollable, was coming from deep inside, from the well that was spilling her juices on the cover of the bed. Her hips got frantic, her vagina swelled and spread, incredibly wide, as big as the biggest black cave to get him all in, and to get more in.
Then Phillip cried, 'My God,' and came shooting into her before her time, a second before her time.
She shrieked, 'Phillip!' But he was spent, his fingers resting on her back, seemingly asleep. 'More, Phillip,' she demanded, ready for his mouth or fingers or the wooden bedpost. Anything, but more.
'Not now,' he said quietly, but he looked at her strangely. 'Why didn't you make it, my dear' You had plenty of time.' He was like a punishing father, but Carol knew he was afraid, terrified that she was lying there hot. He would not do with his mouth what couldn't be done with his prick. He buttoned his pants and walked to the adjoining bathroom.
He took a transparent hypodermic out of his medical cabinet and stuck the needle into a rubber corked vial. He walked back into the room, holding the needle straight up to pull up the colorless liquid.
Carol said, 'No,' her eyes wide and frightened. Phillip sat on the edge of the bed, took her arm nervelessly in his hand and pierced the blue vein with the needle. She watched him, fascinated, as the liquid disappeared into her flesh. Her eyes were wide and hysterical when they met Phillip's, but already she was too tired to speak.
'Go to sleep,' he warned, his voice not untender, but still strange.
She was watching him, her green eyes fading into sleep. He returned the questioning gaze. 'Go to sleep Carol. Forget about your empty hot cunt. It's good to be hot, gets you close to God.'
She was deep asleep when he left the room. He hadn't told her that tonight he'd leave for Boston. She wouldn't be awake when he took off. He poured a drink when he reached the study, still unwilling to think of the unsated plea. But he couldn't fuck her anymore; her cunt felt like a trap, like a swamp.
When he heard the door buzz, he remembered Harry. He walked swiftly to the bedroom, saw Carol deep in a trance, a prick-devouring angel. He locked the door from the outside, and put the key in his pocket. Harry was sitting on the couch in the studio when Phillip reentered. 'Harry, did you have a good dinner?' he asked.
CHAPTER VII
Sundown, and Harry was alone in Phillip's study, pacing the room, waiting for his call. It was restlessness again, creeping through him in that old familiar way. 'Things could get too involved,' he thought.
'Yeah, that girl, there was more to her than just being a woman.' She was weird, indefinable. It made him feel lost, a novel sensation for Harry. It made him restless, and he didn't want to upset anything between himself and Phillip. 'Not now,' Harry knew. 'I can't let anything interfere now.'
It was almost dark. Harry sank heavily into a large armchair. The always-present cigarette in the corner of his mouth, dangling, looking not smoked at all, just there and getting shorter as though by magic.
The mother-of-pearl chess set on the table before him looked inviting in the dim light. He thoughtfully began to move a few pieces about when the door to the study burst open. Harry sprung up, cat-like.
'You could get killed that way, walking into a room unannounced!'
Carol stood by the door, saying nothing, her eyes catching his angry stare through the twilight. Finally she spoke dryly, ignoring his outburst. 'You're going to burn your lips if you don't give up that butt.
You need a better light.'
She walked past him in the dark, toward the indirect light. He felt her brush by him; he could smell faintly the more spicy than sweet odor of her perfume. 'Yes,' he thought, 'Carol is definitely in the room.'
She turned on the light near the chess set. It was a hot evening, and Carol was dressed for the weather, wearing a short dress made of filmy material, like a little girl's jumper or perhaps more like a nightgown.
Harry remained standing in the same position as when she entered, not talking, not moving, the cigarette butt burning into his lip. He stood staring through her. She spoke softly, 'You've been working overtime.'
Harry walked back to his chair, and mashed his cigarette in one of the large alabaster ashtrays. He lit another immediately and returned to his chess game. Carol watched the side of his sculptured face, its muscles moving in and out as he concentrated on the board. In the back of her mind she wondered if that face would ever look at her with the same intensity and her heart turned over in between her breasts.
She put her portfolio and purse on another chair and walked back to Harry.
'Who's winning?' she asked toyingly.
Harry looked up at her as though she were a statue that had come to life. 'Who do you think?' he replied teasingly. Carol couldn't return his piercing stare. She sensed something else emanating from him.
She was unable to make the usual banter. Rather than melt away under his gaze, she turned her back briefly to him and stood still for a split second. In that moment Harry followed the curve of her ass from the tiny waist to the voluptuous full-blown thighs, then to the bottom of her heart-shaped ass.
