textfiles/sex/EROTICA/D/doorman.txt

                      THE DOORMAN

                    by V.P. Viddler






     Crrrrrrrrack!

     "That's one," Victor said. "Very good, Dominick. Nice and 
hard. Not at all bad for a start, don't you think so, Sylvia? I 
know you can't answer me, darling, but your twisting and 
wriggling and those painful sounds you're making are answer 
enough, don't you agree, Dominick?"

     "Christ," Dominick said.

     "Indeed. And you will do still better as you get the hang of 
it, I'm sure. Such moaning, Sylvia! It's really to bad that we 
can't do away with that gag, you know, so that we might enjoy the 
lady's full-throated groans and cries and sobbing, and her 
pleading for mercy, and all that. Not to mention, of course, the 
screaming which I'm sure you will be able to elicit as you go on 
with this. But alas, arousing as that would be, it would be too 
hazardous for us. It might prove awkward if passers-by, hearing 
those beautiful screams, were to follow the sound and interrupt 
us. Of course, anyone might come in at any time as it is. But 
that is part of the excitement, isn't it?"

     
     "What if someone comes in?" Dominick had said, how many 
years ago? And Victor had said the same thing: "That just adds to 
the excitement, don't you think?" And she had been so horrified, 
so humiliated and frightened and dumbstruck at what was going on 
that this only intensified that horror. As she had stood there 
actually shaking, trying to form words which might sway him from 
what he had in mind, knowing it was futile, already crying, as 
Dominick, the building's doorman, stared in wonder, amazement and 
lust, unable to credit the reality of his good fortune.

     For six months he had watched her, by far the most 
attractive tenant in the building. Passing him every day in the 
lobby. "Good morning, Miss Rockham." "Good morning, Dominick." 
"Shall I get you a taxi, Miss Rockham?" "Thank you, Dominick."

     He was the doorman. Not young. Not thin. Not rich. And she 
was Miss Rockham. All of that. And more. With her long straight 
brown hair and her almost scornfully aristocratic face and her 
sensuous body and high sumptuous breasts and long luscious mouth-
watering legs. Fantasizing about that body, of course, but not 
for a second thinking that he might ever--and it was four o'clock 
in the morning, two days before Christmas, and he was alone in 
the lobby, everything dead, nobody around at that hour, nothing 
happening or likely to, and she came in with Victor. Who he knew 
was her man. And who had something about him that said he was 
more than that. And now he saw right away something was wrong. 
The way she was walking, the way he was looking. A fight. 
Something.

     "Good evening, Miss Rockham."

     "Good evening." Softly. Muffled.

     And Victor. "Good evening, Dominick. Working at this hour?"

     "It's quiet."

     "Indeed." Looking around the big empty lobby. Looking at 
her. She not looking at him. But frightened. Suddenly wary, as 
though knowing he had an idea, a notion that was bad news for 
her. Dominick was mystified. But watching.

     "Sylvia," Victor said. "Have you given Dominick his 
Christmas tip this year?"

     Looking at Victor now, definitely frightened, definitely 
wary. "Not--not yet. I--I was going--"

     "Now would be a good time to do that, don't you think, 
Sylvia?"

     "I--I don't have--I don't have much--" Fumbling with her 
purse.

     "Put the purse down, Sylvia," Victor said.

     "But--"

     "Now," Victor said.

     Dominick was watching, curious, a bit confused. Sylvia, 
suddenly swallowing hard, put the purse down on the curving 
marble desk with its bank of monitors at which Dominick was 
sitting.

     "Dominick," Victor said. "Do you think Miss Rockham is an 
attractive lady?"

     Taken aback, Dominick hesitated. "Yes. Sure."

     "I thought so. And do you find Miss Rockham...sexy? The 
truth now, Dominick."

     "Well...well, yeah, I mean--I do, I--"

     "I thought that too. For she is, isn't she? Sylvia, say 
thank you to Dominick."

     Sylvia--Miss Rockham--wasn't looking at him. She was, he 
thought, trembling a little. And now swallowing again. "Thank 
you," she said, so softly he hardly heard it.

     "Tell me, Dominick. What is it you like most about Miss 
Rockham. Is it her breasts? Her behind? Or her legs, perhaps? I 
myself am a leg man. Are you a leg man, Dominick?"

     "I--I don't--"

     "Miss Rockham has beautiful legs, Dominick. Most luscious. 
All the way up. I have seldom known legs as good, and I am a 
connoisseur."

     "Victor--"

     Victor didn't bother to acknowledge her interruption. "Would 
you like to see them, Dominick? As a Christmas tip, you might 
say. Would you like to be able to look at them? All of them? 
Right here and now?"

     "Victor--please--you can't--"

     "Can't I, Sylvia?" Victor said.

     And she said, "Victor, please--please--for god's sake--"

     "What do you think, Dominick?"

     And Dominick said, "Yeah. I--yeah. Sure. I sure would."

     "Victor, what--no--listen--please--"

     And Victor said, "Open your coat, Sylvia."

     "Victor--"

     "Not another word, Sylvia. Not one. All right?"

     "Oh god." It was a whimper of despair, of degradation.

     "Open your coat, Sylvia."

     And she did. Unbuttoning the fur coat, pulling it apart in 
front. Standing in black gown and high heels. Standing and 
shaking. And starting, silently, to cry.

     "Step back, Sylvia. So Dominick can see all of you. Back. 
That's it. Do you have a good view, Dominick?" Which was when he 
said what if somebody comes in and Victor made his reply and Miss 
Rockham was crying softly. And Victor said, "Pull up your skirt, 
Sylvia."

     Now how she looked at him, not saying anything, just crying, 
just sort of gasping and begging with her eyes, god, it had to 
turn him on, how Miss Rockham was standing there in the middle of 
the lobby, standing so he could see all of her, absolutely 
gorgeous and absolutely shaking with horror and humiliation and 
degradation.

     "Pull up your skirt, Sylvia. Slowly. All the way up. Do it, 
Sylvia."

     And now she wasn't looking at him. Now she was standing in 
that lobby and grasping her skirt in both hands and pulling it 
up. Up. Slowly up. Exposing to him her calves. So luscious. 
Knees. Round, beautiful. Slowly now.

     "All the way," Victor said.

     Miss Rockham pulling that skirt higher. Baring her thighs.

     "You may note,"Victor said, "that she is not wearing 
stockings. I don't allow her to. I prefer those legs naked. 
Always. You don't mind, I hope."

     He didn't mind. The legs, naked, gleamed at him. Rounded 
marvellous thighs, the skirt going higher and higher. Stopping.

     "All the way, Sylvia. Around your waist. And hold it there. 
This is Dominck's Christmas tip, and we must be generous. I want 
him to look as long as he wants to."

     Sylvia was sobbing now, audibly, and she was pulling the 
skirt up around her waist, showing her small black panties. And 
all of her fantastically sensuous legs.

     "I told you they were good," Victor said. "You can look at 
them as much as you want."

     And Dominick did, fearing as he did that someone might come 
into the lobby, but not able to stop looking at her legs, her 
tight hands holding her skirt at her waist, her shaking, sobbing 
body, her debasement. But at last he did.

     "Next Christmas," Victor said as they started for the 
elevator. "Next Christmas I'll have her show you her breasts."

     A sound from Miss Rockham, a sound indescribable. And the 
sight of her face until the elevator came...


     Crrrrrrrraccckkk!

     "That's two," Victor said. "Wonderful. Ah, hark at the sweet 
stifled song of agony. Painful, my darling? How she squirms. I'm 
going to have to hold her hands to keep her properly bent over 
this desk, am I not, Sylvia? What? I just can't make out what 
you're saying through that tight gag, darling. I know you want us 
to stop, but we've only just begun. You know we promised Dominick 
at least six. At least. It's Christmas again, you know."


     That first Christmas--how many years ago--she had been a 
young girl. And now she was a woman. But just as sexy, just as 
gorgeous--and just as helpless. After that night she had not been 
able to look at him. "Good morning, Miss Rockham."  Nothing 
showing in his voice. But she knew he was thinking about it. 
"Good morning." Inaudibly. Because she was thinking about it, 
knowing he was. About her standing there with that skirt hoisted 
high for him. And about what Victor had promised him for next 
Christmas.

     For a year it went on. But he didn't know if Victor would 
actually-- And then again it was two days before Christmas, four 
in the morning, the lobby deserted, and they came in. Stopping. 
Victor smiling. She white and tense. Victor saying, "Time for 
your Christmas tip, Dominick. Have you been looking forward to 
it?" Nodding silently. And she moaning. Just moaning, looking 
sick, looking faint, and moaning so softly, so pathetically, as 
Victor again made her stand back, made her face him, told her to 
open her blouse. "I particularly told her to omit a brassiere 
this evening to make it simpler," Victor said. "Show him, 
Sylvia." And she moaning, crying, unbuttoning the blouse, pulling 
it open, spreading it open for him, and he staring at the bare 
round high fine soft firm pink-nippled breasts. Staring for it 
seemed hours, as she stood holding the blouse open, and Victor 
smiling, and she whimpering, and when it was over Victor said, 
"Next Christmas," and Miss Rockham gave a little terrible cry, 
"Next Christmas I'll have her strip completely naked. All 
right?"...


     "I'll hold her hands," Victor said. "Do it a little higher 
this time. Across the back. And harder."

     Sylvia's head now shaking wildly, awful sounds coming 
through the gag, sounds meaning no, no, but coming out as NNNPHH 
NNNGHHH.

     Crrrrrrrrrraaaaacccckkkkkk!

     "Look at that," Victor said, smiling. "You nearly jumped 
right off the desk, darling. And see how she's still flopping 
around. Ah, you did well, Dominick. That's three. And through her 
clothes too. Why don't I just pull up this blouse a little. Stop 
fighting, Sylvia. Or shall I turn you over and let Dominick have 
a shot at your breasts? Oh look, Dominick, that's calmed her 
down, hasn't it? Just listen to that fearful moaning. Now. That 
naked back looks like a perfect target. Maybe we'll save her 
breasts for next Christmas. Maybe."


     Recalling now those breasts as he had looked upon them, and 
then recalling the following year. When Victor had indeed made 
her strip for him. Totally. In the middle of the lobby.

     Miss Rockham had not wanted to do it. She had gone down on 
her knees to Victor, pleading, begging, sobbing. And Victor had 
bend down and whispered into her ear. Miss Rockham had gone 
white. And then Miss Rockham had stood up, unsteadily, swaying, 
and had taken off her clothing. All of it. Piece by piece. Facing 
Dominick. Standing there as long as he looked at that body. And 
turning around at Victor's command, showing him all of her.

     And Victor saying, "Now, what's left to give Dominick next 
year?" And smiling. And making her put her clothes back on in 
front of him. "What would you like, Dominick? Her body?" And 
Sylvia made a small whimpering noise that struck him to the heart 
and at the same time made his cock throb. "I don't know," Victor 
said thoughtfully. "It may be too soon for that. But maybe part 
of it. A nice part. Would you like that, Dominick?"

     "Yes."

     "All right. You think about it, Dominick. Think about which 
part of her you want. And it will be yours. Next Christmas."

     And again a year of knowing, both of them knowing. Each day, 
passing him, she knew he was visualizing her naked, standing 
crying swaying nude in the lobby, and that he was visualizing 
what she would look like next time. What she would be doing.

     What he wanted was her cunt, but he knew he couldn't ask for 
that. Not yet. Her ass was as yet forbidden also. Too soon. 
Victor could stop this charade at any time. But her mouth? Could 
he ask for her mouth? No. Probably just a breast. Or a thigh. 
When Victor asked him Dominick almost said her mouth, but he was 
afraid. "A thigh," he said. Victor smiled at him. And at her. 
"You may have them both," Victor said...


     Crrrrrrrrrrrraaaacckkkk!

     "That's four," Victor said. "Look at those legs kicking. 
You've rucked your skirt right up to your hips, Sylvia, did you 
know that? Still has the best legs in town, doesn't she?"



     And she did. And Dominick recalling the first time he had 
used those thighs. Skirt hoisted high, legs bare, Victor had 
forced her to use those thighs on him however he wanted. And she 
had. Sitting on that desk and giving him the use of them. Helping 
him. Victor watching. Smiling. Miss Rockham crying. And 
masturbating him with her thighs, rubbing him with her soft 
smooth silky gorgeous tan thighs, moving as he told her to, until 
he was spurting hard and high and all over her legs, his gism 
splashing across those lovely round sensuous thighs and Sylvia 
sobbing with degradation as Victor told her to rub it into her 
skin. All of it all over her fine long thighs until it was 
absorbed.

     The following year it was her breasts he used. That she used 
on him. That he shot onto, that she rubbed his gism into. In the 
lobby.

     "All right, Dominick," Victor said. "Next Christmas you get 
a hole. Pick a hole, Dominick."

     All year he had thought about it. Thought about fucking that 
fine lubricious body. Thought about his cock in her tight 
resistant ass as she lay over the hard marble desk. Thought about 
how she would look on all fours, an animal at bay. And thought 
about having her crouching before him on her knees, with his cock 
in her mouth. It had been difficult to decide. But Victor had 
assured him, in Miss Rockham's presence of course, that what he 
didn't do the first Christmas would still be available to him in 
the year following. "Sylvia isn't going anyplace," Victor said. 
"Are you, Sylvia?"

     Sylvia was not looking at him. "No." Whispering, hating him. 
"I'm not going anyplace."

     "And I don't expect you are planning to quit this job, are 
you, Dominick?"

     "Hell no."

     "I didn't think so. So I'll tell you what. Why don't we do 
it this way. You think of everything that you'd like to do to 
her. Or that you'd like her to do to you. And we'll make straws 
with them, and each Christmas we'll draw a different straw, until 
they're all gone. How does that sound to you, Dominick?"

     Dominick was watching Miss Rockham cry silently. "Fine. Just 
fine."

     "How about you, Sylvia?"

     "Victor--if I--please--"

     "Now darling. It's fine with you, isn't it? I want you to 
tell Dominick that it's fine with you."

     It took time for her to control herself enough to do it, and 
then Miss Rockham looked at him. "Yes," she said, not hiding 
anything, not the pain, not the hatred, not the shame, not the 
horror, not the debasement. "Yes. It's fine with me."...


     Crrrraaaaacccckkk!

     "That's five," Victor said. "How does it feel, Sylvia? It 
hurts, doesn't it, darling? It's just agony, isn't it? It's so 
nice to see you this way, Sylvia. Hurting and helpless. Twisting 
in pain. Trying to scream through that gag. It turns me on 
something awful. And I know it turns Dominick on too. You're 
going to have to do something about that, Sylvia. For both of us. 
Maybe for both of us at once. Do you hear me, Sylvia?" Victor now 
let go of her wrists and moved his hand into the sobbing 
twitching thrashing shouting woman's hair, then pulled on it, 
forcing her head up so that she had to look at him, bringing 
further muffled howls and cries from the stopped-up mouth. "Do 
you hear me, Sylvia? Are you paying attention, you pain-filled 
slut?"

     Hurting, writhing, Miss Rockham frantically tried to 
indicate assent, babbling desperately into her gag and even 
trying pathetically to nod her straining head.

     "Why don't you fuck her, Dominick?" Victor said, still 
clutching her long brown hair. "Rip those panties off and fuck 
her ass for her. You don't have to stop whipping her either. 
Right, Sylvia?"


     He had fucked her ass first. That was the first straw. It 
was the first time Victor had gagged her, because she couldn't 
stop screaming, bent over his desk with his stiff cock all the 
way up her tight little anus. And the following year he had 
fucked her cunt. No gag then. And then finally had come the day 
when Miss Rockham had sucked his cock in the middle of the lobby, 
on her knees, stark naked, crying, sobbing with each movement of 
her slowly bobbing head, sobbing and moaning as he had told her 
to go slower, go faster, use her tongue, swallow his gism. Victor 
had made her crawl that night too, crawling on hands and knees 
around the lobby. Victor had made her lick the floor.

     In following years he had had her in many ways. And finally, 
when their imaginations had been exhausted, Victor had said, "All 
right, Dominick. Next year you can punish her."...



     "I don't want her ass," Dominick said. "I want her mouth. I 
love it when she has to take my cock into her crying mouth, and 
how she has to suck on it while she's sobbing because she hates 
it so much, and she's hurting and she's degrading herself and how 
she has no choice."

     "She's got another lash coming," Victor said. "At least one 
more. But if you don't want to stop, that's all right, isn't it, 
Sylvia?"

     Frantically shaking her head, howling with the pain in her 
scalp. Victor with his free hand slapping her face hard, hard, 
back and forth, and again. "I said isn't it, Sylvia, you 
cocksucking cunt whore? Isn't it?"

     "MMMMMPHHH! MMMMPPHHH!" Agonizingly jerking her head up and 
down, saying, trying to say, yes, yes, yes, as her eyes said oh 
god no please god no no please god I'll do anything no no no no 
no--

     "See that, Dominick?" Victor said. "Sylvia says you can go 
on whipping her as long as you want to. But if you want to fuck 
her mouth I'll have to take out the gag, obviously. So you should 
finish whipping her first. Of course we can always put the gag 
back in and continue the whipping afterwards, can't we, Sylvia?"

     Choking babbling incomprehensible sounds from behind that 
saliva-soaked gag.

     "But do finish the official six first, Dominick. Just one 
more to go. And I do think it should be a climactic one, don't 
you? On the breasts? Wouldn't you like to whip Sylvia's breasts, 
Dominick?"

     Sylvia's eyes, wide, wild, frantic with terror. Horrifying 
sounds from her throat. Trying to shake her head, squirming, 
writhing, kicking. Victor slapping her again, hard, back and 
forth. "Be still, Sylvia. Just be still. Still!" And with the 
worst sound yet, a diminishing moan of utter despair and 
surrender to horror, Miss Rockham now stopped struggling, stopped 
moving, and lay still on her stomach across Dominick's hard 
marble desk.

     "Now," Victor said, very softly. "I'm letting go of you, 
Sylvia." And he did. "I'm not touching you." And he didn't. "I 
don't have to hold you, I don't have to hit you, do I, Sylvia? 
It's fine, but it's not necessary. You will do as I say without 
that. You know it and I know it, and Dominick here should know it 
by now. You must do as I command, Sylvia. Anything and 
everything. Say yes, Sylvia. Nod your head."

     And Miss Rockham nodded her head. Sobbing softly.

     "Show him," Victor said. "Turn over, Sylvia. Roll over onto 
your back so Dominick can whip your breasts."

     Miss Rockham's sobs turned to whimpers.

     "Now," Victor said so softly.

     Whimpering. Mewling. Shaking. Miss Rockham rolled slowly 
over. Dominick looking down at that beautiful aristocratic 
twisting tear-wet face. Rolled all the way over and lay on her 
back. With her skirt riding high on those fabulous long legs and 
her shirt crumpled up to reveal her smooth stomach.

     "Unbutton the shirt, Sylvia. So Dominick can whip your bare 
breasts. Open it, Sylvia."

     Fingers shaking, fumbling, whimpering. Unbuttoning the 
shirt. Pulling it open. Hands hovering fearfully over the 
gorgeous high quivering taut breasts.

     "Hands down, Sylvia," Victor said.

     Sylvia lay there, whimpering. Eyes closed. Tightly.

     "Open your eyes, Sylvia."

     And she did. And Dominick raised the strap...


     How many years? Growing from young nubile girlishness to 
ripe luscious womanhood and all of it his on Christmas, and 
Victor had said that soon he would give her to him whenever he 
wanted her. Any time he could go up to Miss Rockham's apartment 
and have her. Any way he wanted. He could call up first and say, 
"I'm coming up. I want you to come to the door naked." Or "I want 
you on your knees with your mouth open." Or "I want you spread on 
the bed on your stomach with your pants off and your skirt around 
your waist." Or he could make her come down to the lobby. God, he 
had visions of making Miss Rockham kneel behind his desk, hidden 
from sight, sucking on his cock as people came in and out, or he 
spoke to them and announced them and did what he had to do, and 
all the time she sucking him on her knees...


     CCCCRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCKKKKKKKKKKK!! Just as 
hard as he could. Right across the hard pink nipples.

     "That's six," Victor said, as Miss Rockham's screaming howl 
was hardly stifled by the gag, as Miss Rockham's body bucked and 
arched with agony, and then Miss Rockham rolling uncontrollably 
fell off the desk and landed hard on the floor. Moaning, crying, 
gasping through the gag, and writhing on the floor like a cut 
worm, twisting, squirming, wriggling. With her skirt around her 
waist and her shirt pulled half off, her round sensuous legs 
kicking spasmodically, body curling up into a ball, then 
straightening spastically, writhing, thrashing, helplessly 
jerking.

     "Look at that," Victor breathed. "Just look at that."

     And Dominick did, cock throbbing.

     And just at that point the thing that had haunted him down 
the years but had never happened. Now happened. Three people came 
in to the lobby from outside. Youths. College boys. Who had been 
out on the town. Loud. Boisterous. Half drunk. Came through the 
doors and saw Miss Rockham mostly naked squirming on the floor.

     They stopped short.

     "Holy Christ!" Staring.

     Dominick now dropping the strap, ready to fight them. Sylvia 
moaning frightened into the gag, trying to rise, falling, trying 
to scrabble to her knees. Victor calm though, reaching down to 
rip the gag from Sylvia's mouth.

     "Oh my god!" one of the boys said. "What the shit is going 
on here!"

     "It's all right," Victor said. "Everything's just fine. This 
lady is just having a little party with us, that's all. Isn't 
that right, Sylvia?"

     "Christ, I know her! That's that rich lady on the top  
floor--"

     "Be cool, fellows. It's okay. Tell them it's okay, Sylvia."

     Miss Rockham now had managed to push herself onto all fours. 
She was panting and gasping. She didn't raise her head, didn't 
look at any of them. "Yes," she said, croaking, breathless. "It's 
all right. Oh god."

     "Jesus," another boy said. "Look at that."

     It was quite a sight. Miss Rockham on her hands and knees, 
head hanging, hair loose and falling about her face, legs bare, 
breasts hardly covered by the remains of the open shirt, panting.

     "Yes," Victor said. "It's something, isn't it, boys?" He was 
smiling. And what was in his voice had communicated itself to 
Sylvia, who now began to whimper again.

     "Now boys, we wouldn't want this to get around," Victor 
said, watching them. "So maybe we can all join in the party. What 
do you think?"

     Miss Rockham started to cry.

     "Christ!" a boy said. "You mean she'll--"

     "Let me show you," Victor said. "Sylvia."

     Sylvia said, shaking, "Victor please anything I swear please 
no not that please no Victor don't make me do this you can't oh 
god I'm Victor no for god's sake anything I oh I god I I I--"

     "Sylvia," Victor said. "You see these fine young men over 
there? I think they should have a Christmas treat too. Crawl to 
them, Sylvia. Don't get up. Crawl to them on your hands and 
knees."

     So Sylvia, sobbing, moaning, gasping, crawled on all fours 
across the floor of the lobby, until she was crouching near where 
the boys were standing.

     "You want to see what she will do?" Victor said. "Lick the 
floor, Sylvia. Show us all what a low filthy whore slut obedient 
degraded cunt you are. Lick the filthy floor with your tongue. 
And don't stop until I tell you to."

     And Miss Rockham licked the floor. With her tongue. And she 
was still doing it when Victor said, "All right, guys. Anybody 
want that tongue to make them happy now?"

     "Shit!" One boy unzipped his pants and let out a long thick 
hard cock. "I'd fucking love it!"

     "Do it, Sylvia."

     Sylvia raised her head, looking at him. "Please." Whispering 
it. Shaking. "Victor for god's sake please don't."

     "Do it," Victor said with such a tone that Dominick 
shivered. Miss Rockham looked at him helplessly. Then turned her 
head in the direction of the waiting youth. And opened her mouth. 
Taking that thick cock into it. And licking it and sucking it. 
And choking as he thrust it hard into her throat, and gagging, 
but holding on, crouching there on all fours as he fucked her 
sexy mouth. Until he shouted and came. And Victor said, "Swallow, 
Sylvia. Swallow it all. Let us all see you swallowing." And Miss 
Rockham swallowed what he gave her. Slowly, so they all could 
watch.

     "All right," Victor said. "Who wants to fuck her in the ass?"

     The second boy did that, as she crouched for him, after she 
had pulled her panties down for him at Victor's instruction. The 
third boy lay down on his back and Miss Rockham got on top of him 
and straddled his hips and put his cock into her vagina and 
fucked him. It got them all hard again, watching her, moving up 
and down on him, moving slow, then fast, thighs pumping, breasts 
bouncing and rolling, and she crying all the time, crying and 
gasping and moaning, but fucking, until they all did it to her 
again, all at once, one in her cunt, one in her ass, one in her 
mouth.

     Victor told them all to come back next Christmas.

     And then Victor made her suck Dominick off and then himself.

     "Do you want to whip her some more?" Victor said.

     "No. But--" And Dominick told him what he wanted. About his 
promise to make Miss Rockham perform for him on command.

     "Why not?" Victor said. "You hear that, Sylvia? You will 
make yourself available to Dominick any time he wants you, any 
way, any place. Understand? As he says, he calls you and says I'm 
coming up and I want you naked, you do it. He says I want to find 
you on your knees with your mouth open, you say yes, sir. He 
wants you spread out on your stomach with your pants off and your 
skirt up, you lie, you spread, you prepare. And if he wants you 
down here to suck on his cock for a couple of hours as he sits 
behind his desk, you'll come down and you'll do it and do it 
well. Is that all clear, Sylvia?"

     "Yes," Miss Rockham said flatly, expressionlessly, 
hopelessly. "That's clear."

     "Good. I want you to take good care of her, Dominick. I want 
you to put her through her paces. I'm sure you can keep her in 
her place. And if at any time she gives you any trouble at all--
well, you just tell me. But I don't think she will. Will you, 
darling?"

     Miss Rockham was beyond tears, but not beyond fear. She was 
sallow. "No," she whispered. "No. I won't, Victor. No."

     And she didn't.


     Dominick was living in a phantasmagorical dream of lust. And  
power. He did call her to say he would be at her apartment in 
five minutes and that he wanted to walk in and find her on her 
knees in the hall with her mouth open. And he did.

     The first time he made Miss Rockham hide under his desk and 
suck him on her knees for hours as he did his job, he came six 
times down her throat. At times he was afraid that people passing 
might hear her muffled sobbing, but nobody did. At one point he 
had to piss badly, but didn't want to leave his position. So he 
used her mouth.

     "I'm going to piss down your throat," Dominick said when 
nobody was in hearing distance.

     "What?"

     "I didn't tell you to take your mouth away, Miss Rockham."

     "Oh no--no--you can't--please--"

     "I am. And you take it all, you hear? Swallow it down. And 
don't throw up. You got it?"

     "Please I can't no I can't do that look I please just--"

     "I can call Victor," Dominick said.

     A gasp. A whimper.

     "Should I do that?"

     "No! No. Please. No."

     "Will you do it, Miss Rockham? Will you swallow my piss all 
down?"

     "I--I--Yes." So softly.

     "What?"

     "Yes I will. Yes. Oh you filthy--"

     "Right now, Miss Rockham. I want that mouth around my prick 
right now."

     And he heard her sobbing as he felt her sweet soft trembling 
obedient mouth take him in again. And with a great surge of 
exaltation Dominick pissed into that mouth, pissed down that 
gasping throat, pissed and pissed until he had no more piss to 
piss, and felt her swallowing, crying as she did, and he 
laughing, loving the feeling of that throat working, working to 
drink his hated disgusting piss into her belly. Gagging sounds. 
Sobs. Gagging. But that mouth not moving from his cock.

     So now he could force Miss Rockham to do anything he could 
think of. And one day he called her up. "What I want today," 
Dominick said, "is something a little different, okay? You with 
me, Miss Rockham?"

     "What is it," she said wearily. It was such a thrill knowing 
that she had to do anything he said, and that she knew it, and 
that she knew he knew it, and that she hated it and had to do it 
anyway.

     "What I want," Dominick said, "Is to come up to your 
apartment and find you hanging from the ceiling. By your wrists, 
you know? Your wrists tied together and you dangling from that 
chandelier in your living room. Doesn't that sound delicious, 
Miss Rockham?"

     "What--how--it--"

     "Stark naked, of course. So I can see that gorgeous body 
pulled all tight and straining, and those fine round breasts 
pulling almost flat and your stomach taut and your legs  
swinging--your feet will be off the floor of course--just all of 
you hanging there, waiting for me. God, I can't wait to see it!"

     She was panting. Fright. Fear. Hatred. Humiliation. "But it 
will--"

     "Hurt? Oh yes, I'll bet it will. Victor would love it, don't 
you think?"

     A gasp. "Oh god! But--but how can I--I can't do that--I 
won't be able to--"

     "Ah," Dominick said. "That's right. You won't be able to do 
that by yourself, will you? I guess you'll just have to find 
help."

     "H-help? What--what--"

     "Tell you what, Miss Rockham. You recall those three guys 
who were down here in the lobby last Christmas?"

     "Oh god. Oh god no. Please no."

     "Now don't worry, see, two of them don't live here, they're 
just friends of the third guy. But that guy, his name is Barry 
Trull and he lives in apartment six J. Now, I think if you were 
to go down there and knock on the door and ask this Barry Trull 
very nicely, he might just be willing to do that little thing for 
you."

     "Oh my god! You can't--you can't be--"

     "I can't? Why not, Miss Rockham? You're not shy, are you? 
Old Barry didn't think you were shy when you were humping him in 
the lobby and sucking on his friend's cock and taking his other 
pal up your ass."

     "Dominick--please--"

     "Remember what I said, Miss Rockham. Stark naked. Hanging by 
your wrists. Swinging. I'll be there at six o'clock. Don't 
disappoint me, Miss Rockham. Because Victor said--"

     "Oh god wait please I can't I can't no listen I'll--"

     But Dominick had hung up.


     Trull knew why she was there. Dominick had told him 
obviously. A scraggly pimply unattractive youth with bad breath. 
And she had to get him to put her into bondage for Dominick.

     "Just what do you want me to do?" Trull said, and she had to 
tell him. in detail. And she had to do it on her knees. He 
wouldn't allow her to talk without being on her knees. So she 
knelt in front of him and she told him exactly what Dominick 
wanted him to do with her, although he already knew. And Trull 
said, "Sounds like an awful lot of trouble. What's in it for me?"

     "What--" holding back her tears and her shame and her 
disgust because she had to do this. "What do you want?" Not that 
she didn't know, it was only a question of which way and how many 
times and how horribly humiliating it was going to be.

     "Old Dom is showing up at six," Trull said. "That's four 
hours from now. I want you till five-thirty. At five-thirty I'll 
string you up just the way he wants you and leave you for him. 
But until then I get you. All to myself. And you do everything I 
want. And by god I'll use all of you, I can fucking promise you 
that. Is it a deal?"

     Sylvia couldn't talk. But she nodded.

     And in those three and a half hours she did everything for 
him. From licking his ass to drinking his piss. From wiping his 
gism off his cock with her hair to taking him in her ass with her 
head in the toilet bowl. From crawling at his feet to sucking off 
his dog. And finally he took her back upstairs and obligingly 
bound her wrists tight and flung the rope over the chandelier in 
her living room and hauled her up until her feet were well clear 
of the floor, her arms pulling almost out of her shoulders, her 
body taut and straining and helplessly arousing, her breasts 
tight and high, her legs kicking wildly, then dangling, all of 
her swaying, stretching, turning slowly, slowly in the wind.

     "Notice I didn't put a mark on you," Trull said as he was 
going. "Dominick wants you unmarred. I had to restrain myself. 
But--" And he was grinning at her-- "but that's okay. I'll have 
you again when he's finished with you. He's going to leave you 
right there for me, just that way. He told me." And Sylvia 
started to scream, and, laughing, he was out the door.

     It was sheer agony hanging there. Horror. She must pass out. 
But she didn't. And at six o'clock Dominick came in.

     "Christ!" Dominick said. "What a sight! What a fucking 
fantastic tremendous fabulous sight!"

     "Please," Miss Rockham said, moaning. "Oh god what--what are 
you going to--"

     "I'm going to hurt you," Dominick said. "I was thinking 
about how much I enjoyed hurting you with Victor, and now Victor 
isn't here, just us. And I want to hurt you, Miss Rockham. I 
thought about your snobby stuck-up asristocratic body for years 
and then I got to fuck it. And now I've had that body over and 
over, in every way there is. And I've hurt it too. But not like 
I'm going to hurt it today. Down in the lobby Victor always had 
to gag you so you couldn't scream and attract passers-by. But 
there will be no gag today, Miss Rockham. Today you can scream 
all you want. And you will. You're going to scream your sexy 
little guts out for me, Miss Rockham. And I'm going to love it. 
I'm going to drink it in like music."

     "I'll give you anything," Miss Rockham said. She was 
sweating and hurting and her voice was shaking and strained. 
"Listen, Dominick, I'll give you anything you want. I can make 
you rich, Dominick. I can make you into a rich man, and--"

     "Do you want me to call Victor?" Dominick said.

     "No. No! God no."

     "Well now," Dominick said. "I can call old Victor, right 
here, with this phone. Or I can hurt you. Which will it be, Miss 
Rockham? You choose. Which shall I do?"

     "Hurt me," Miss Rockham said.

     "Ask me nicely," Dominick said.

     "Please hurt me, Dominick," Miss Rockham said. "Please make 
me scream for you. Please."

     "All right, Miss Rockham. Sylvia. All right. I will do 
that."

     And he did. For a long time. And she screamed all right. 
Until she was hoarse, and still she didn't stop screaming. And 
finally he fucked her. Not bothering to take her down, just 
fucking Miss Rockham just as she was, standing in back of her 
with his hands clamping her breasts, bringing howls from her 
howling mouth, with his cock up her ass and her body bucking and 
twisting and her long curving shapely smooth luscious soft 
alluring legs twitching and flailing.

     And at last Dominick was finished with her. Miss Rockham 
could hardly talk, but when he picked up the phone to call Trull 
she begged him not to leave her for him. "Oh, I won't," Dominick 
said. "I'm going to stay and watch." And that's what he did too.


     "Not that," Miss Rockham was saying. "Not that. Don't let 
him do that. Please, Dominick, don't let him. Please dear god I'm 
begging you. You can't let him do that to me dear sweet god no."

     "Isn't it fine when they beg that way?" Trull said. His cock 
was hard again.

     "Yeah," Dominick said. "But hey, man, why don't you just 
whip her some more? I was really digging the way she was jerking 
around and kicking and howling when you laid that springy bamboo 
across her back. And when you whacked it across her breasts, 
Christ, I was coming in my pants."

     "So now I'm gonna try something else. So what? This will 
really make her shout, man."

     "But you're gonna mark her up that way. Not just those 
pretty stripes acorss her body, man, but permanent marks, you 
know?"

     "So what? I'm gonna turn those tits into ashes, man. Charred 
black humps of scar fucking tissue. And then I'll start on her 
legs, baby. Now if you want to stick your cock inside that body 
while I'm putting some of these things out on her, man, you'll 
get the wildest ride of your life."

     "Call Victor," Sylvia said. "I'd rather have Victor than 
that."

     "Why not?" Dominick said.

     "No," Victor told him. "I don't want Sylvia to have scars. 
But I am not one to spoil a party. If you want to burn someone, 
I'll send a girl over for you."

     "Shit," Dominick said. "Too much."

     And Victor was as good as his word. In ten minutes the 
doorbell rang. It was a girl. A young girl. A high school girl. 
Looking like the young Brigitte Bardot with her long blonde hair 
and pouty lips and lovely face and superb body. And she was 
trembling all over. And could hardly get out the words she'd been 
commanded to say. "I--Victor sent me for you. Victor says you can 
do anything to me you want. He says don't worry about scars. 
Victor says you can burn me all you want. And that I scream very 
loudly." She was crying. "And I fuck like a million dollars."

     "Holy shit," Trull said. "What's your name, darling?"

     "Penny." Crying.

     "Can you suck cock, Penny?"

     "Yes." Crying.

     "I think," Dominick said, "I would like to stretch Penny out 
on Miss Rockham's four-poster bed and tie her spread-eagled, very 
tightly, and strip her body bare, and put my cock inside her and 
let you put out those cigarettes of yours all over her young 
luscious voluptuous mouth-wateringly nubile body. And I will lie 
on top of that body with my cock all the way up her tight little 
cunt and I will feel that body wriggle every time you grind a 
burning cigarette slowly out into Penny's delicious young flesh. 
Feel it bucking and twisting and writhing and thrashing and 
squirming, feel it straining upwards, desperately pulling against 
the tight unyielding bonds, all of it straining and arching and 
spasming with pain. As she screams and shrieks and howls and 
shouts to bring the walls down."

     Penny was crying and shaking.

     "I want her to suck me off with that crying mouth," Trull 
said.

     "Take me down," Miss Rockham said. "For pity's sake please 
take me down."

     "No," Dominick said. "You can hang there and watch."

     First they told the girl to strip for them, but as she was 
doing it both of them whipped her, Trull whipping her round ass 
with his springy bamboo so that she had to keep jumping and 
twisting around, and Dominick using a thin but vicious cord to 
lash at her hands as she was trying to undo buttons and snaps and 
laces. So that it was a most agonizing process for the girl and 
took a long long time. But finally Penny was naked and crawling 
around the room on hands and knees as they lashed at that pitiful 
crying degraded body. Then Trull indeed got his wish as he fucked 
Penny's sobbing mouth and as he did so Dominick took her up the 
ass, clutching at her round firm breasts, pinching the nipples, 
clamping the breasts hard, making the girl cry out and moan 
around Trull's cock until it shot its gism far down her throat. 
And finally they bound her to the bed and did what they had said 
they would do and Penny's howls shook the walls.

     "Take Sylvia down and put Penny up there, how about it?" 
Trull said.

     "Upside down," Dominick said.

     So Sylvia was put on her knees, wrists still bound, and 
Penny was hung up by her ankles, her hair falling down to hang in 
midair, Trull pulling her up until her face was level with his 
crotch. Holding her by the nipples to keep her from turning, he 
was fucking her pouty crying upside-down mouth.

     "Miss Rockham," Dominick said. "If I told you to go down to 
the lobby right now, just as you are, and suck off the doorman on 
duty down there, what would you do?"

     "I would do it," Miss Rockham said.

     "Do you want to?"

     "No."

     "Shall I make you?"

     "No."

     "Do it, Miss Rockham. Right now. Just like that. Stark 
naked, wrists tied, whip marks all over you, hurting and 
exhausted and shamed and sick and so debased you can't even think 
about it. Go down there and go to your knees on the floor and ask 
that doorman if you can suck his cock until he comes down your 
throat. And give him the best blowjob you ever gave anybody. Go."

     And Miss Rockham did just that. That.

     Dominick left Barry Trull happily fucking a screaming Penny 
on the floor. By now there was harldy a square inch on the young 
girl's body that was not marked by angry burns. Trull, fucking 
her, was deliberately thrusting and grinding and pounding his 
body against hers, so that each thrust brought unbearable agony 
as her tortured body was roughly abraded both front and back. And 
yet Trull was making her curl her legs around him and move hard 
with his rhythm, contributing to her own continuous pain. "Damn," 
Dominick had said a moment ago, "there's a small patch of thigh 
right here that hasn't been burned yet." "Well Christ," Trull 
said, panting. "Do something about it." And he had, greatly 
adding to Trull's pleasure as Penny's writhings and twistings 
became even more frantic with that glowing cigarette pressing 
into her soft spasming flesh.

     Dominick now went down to the lobby. The night doorman had a 
goofy grin on his face. Behind his desk Sylvia was still 
kneeling, as he had last seen her, naked, hands tied.

     "I take it you've carried out your commission," Dominick 
said.

     "Jesus shit Christ!" the night man said. "Do you know what 
she--"

     "Yes. I do. Was it the best you've ever had?"

     "Hell, yes!"

     "It's a good thing."

     "My wrists hurt," Sylvia said.

     "Good," Dominick said. "But actually, Miss Rockham, I think 
you would look still better if those hands were tied in back of 
you."

     "Can I do it?" the night man said.

     "No. Sylvia. Go upstairs and ask Trull to do that for you. 
Do whatever you have to do to get him to do it. Then come back."

     "Oh god," Sylvia said. "Oh you bastard." And slowly she got 
up and walked to the elevator.

     It was a while until she came back. With her hands bound 
behind her. Tightly. And walking painfully. Dominick watched her 
breasts jiggle as she approached.

     "What did you have to do?"

     Sylvia swallowed. "I--I fucked him."

     "That's it?"

     "No. First I had to--I had to stand still while he--he 
burned me--"

     "What! But Victor said no scars!"

     "I--that was--he--did it where it wouldn't leave any scars."

     "Christ! You mean right up your--"

     "Yes. And then I had to fuck him."

     "Sounds damn painful," Dominick said. "And you can fuck me 
too. Right now."

     "Oh no."

     But Dominick was sitting down, his cock out. "Right across 
my lap, Miss Rockham. Hurry up."

     "Oh you bastard," Sylvia said, coming to him. "Oh you filthy 
pig." Crying now, awkwardly straddling his lap with her hands 
bound behind her. Gasping as with her feet on the chair rungs she 
raised herself for his stiff cock. "Ah! Ahh! God! Oh you--ahhh!" 
Crying out in pain as she lowered that shaking body onto him.

     "Holy Jesus H.!" the night man said.

     "Move it, Miss Rockham," Dominick said. "Up and down, that's 
it. Just a bit faster. That's great. I bet it hurts, right, 
Sylvia? Oh yes, I bet that hurts just awful."

     "You scum," Miss Rockham said, moving. "You filthy scum!" Up 
and down. Sobbing. Gasping. "Oh god it hurts! Let me stop. Please 
let me stop."

     "No, Sylvia. Don't you dare stop." Dominick grasped a 
handful of her long dark hair and with it pulled her head back 
forcefully.

     "Ahhh!"

     "If I want you to keep moving, you're going to keep moving. 
Aren't you, Miss Rockham?" Jerking the hair down, forcing her 
head sharply back. "Aren't you?"

     "Augghh! Yes! Yes! I am. Oh please. Yes. I am. I will. I'm 
sorry. Oh god--"

     "Harder," Dominick said. And Miss Rockham obeyed him.

     "Miss Rockham," Dominick said, as she, moaning, gasping, 
sobbing, did his bidding. "I'm going to call Victor and ask him 
for one more Christmas present. It's going to be a party. A 
Christmas party. Right here in the lobby. And this whole building 
will get invitations. Actually it will be a sort of a Christmas 
orgy. And who do you think will be the Santa Claus?"

     "No," Miss Rockham said. "Oh no. Not that. You couldn't--"

     "But Victor could. He might supply us with other girls, like 
Penny. I can see them bound up against the walls, like ornaments. 
At the disposal of the guests. But the main attraction will be 
you, Miss Rockham. A gift for everybody. Anybody who wants you. 
In any way. All night long."

     "No no no no no no no."

     "Yes, Sylvia. Now kiss me, Miss Rockham."

     Kissed by a sobbing mouth, Dominick opened his lips so that 
Sylvia, knowing she must, would put her warm quivering tongue 
into his mouth. Forcibly making love to him with her soft lips 
and probing tongue and crying mouth.

     And on Christmas Victor had Miss Rockham submit to all who 
wanted her, which included all the male tenants of the building 
and a lot of folks from outside. All night long a sobbing, 
degraded, crawling woman was sucking and fucking and using all of 
that spectacular body. And all Christmas day Victor had Miss 
Rockham standing in the lobby like a Christmas tree, stark naked, 
her body streaming with gism like tinsel, her nipples an angry 
tortured red like ornamental lights, her magnificent legs spread 
apart to display her gift to the public, hanging by her hair, 
which was lashed to the big lobby chandelier.

     "Dominick," Victor said. "I don't think I've gotten around 
to your Christmas tip yet. Allow me to make up for that. This is 
Priscilla."

     She was young and beautiful with a body that stopped his 
heart. And she was frightened.

     "Priscilla has the most fabulous legs," Victor was saying. 
"Don't you, darling. Just step back so Dominick can see all of 
them. And lift your skirt."

     Priscilla was moaning.

     "Now next Christmas..."