“Your mind’s been twisted, love. Let it go now,” he said gently, “and we’ll heal it all when you return.”
He held her close to him, so that her head fell against his chest. She could hear his heart beating, feel it pulsing all around her. She knew this was good-bye, though she wouldn’t let him think so. He’d know soon enough.”
***
Armand: I pushed the thought from me a thousand times, and yet everything my darling said pointed to that fact. I had only to confirm my suspicions.
I walked the street for nights after she left, looking into windows, into vacant storefronts and the well-washed chrome and glass of restored motor cars. I was dwelling on pictures of her; everywhere I went, it was Delila’s face coming to me with all the horrid fascination of her admissions seeming to tease me, and beckon me further. But beckon me where?
I conjured pictures of her having her way with men, fornicating with harlots, being made slave to masters that forced her to do these unspeakable things. The pictures were all too easy for me to see. I don’t know why because I’d never known of such things as this; but still, they haunted me all day, and took my dreams from me at night.
Delila had pulled us, unwittingly perhaps, but pulled us nonetheless into a curious world where all the evil that had been preached to us was abruptly thrown into our faces, as if there was some way we could welcome it. I thought of her admissions to me, and as much as they should disgust me, they seduced me. My own body betraying me with erections that required my attention more times than I would ever admit to anyone. Was it possible that she was right? Perhaps this wasn’t evil at all, this great hunger for sex. That wasn’t something I’d ever considered, but to have her with me, to pull her out of this dire despair, I needed to consider it now.
Worst of all, in my infernal musings, I feared for her, knowing she wasn’t strong, or thinking as clearly as she should. For so long I thought she was safe enough in the State’s hands, but I knew the State. I shouldn’t kid myself. She was afraid for herself and for me, and that was why she drew away from me our last visit. There must be a very good reason.
Chapter Thirty
Delila buried herself in the leather rooms and orgy pits of Outer Island, determined to think of nothing but her body’s pleasure. No matter how abject and spiritless that pleasure might be, she wouldn’t speak of her trials to anyone, except to tell Degas in a haughty tone that she loved her husband more than she did her life. Some three weeks back into the hands of her depravity, Fier pulled her away from fucking three whores and three men in one of the loneliest of Outer Island’s many chambers.
“Where are you taking me?” she snapped.
“Where I’ve been ordered,” he snapped back, as his leather strap hit her ass hard.
“You hit me again, I’ll scratch your eyes out!” she seethed at him.
“Then I would vent on you with a whip and cane, and you’d love that,” he retorted.
“So you’ll do it anyway?”
“No.”
He refused to tell her where he was taking her, but then it didn’t matter, since they’d reached their destination: Lexia’s boudoir.
“Tie her to the post,” Lexia ordered the valet, when she saw the two standing at her door.
Delila didn’t comprehend the words, though her eyes did record astonishment when Fier strung her up to a marble post, her wristbands fixed to an eyehook. The valet left Delila in Lexia’s hands, and though he was curious to know the Madam’s complaint against this whore, he said nothing.
“So, my dark beauty,” Lexia began. There was a cane baton in her hand, and as she moved behind the strung up woman, she ran the tip against Delila’s skin. “You’ve been whipped rather severely, I see. Are you planning to permanently mark yourself, so that only the most desperate and corrupt will have you?”
Delila kept her feelings to herself.
“Suppose you tell me what excessive fires burn in you that make you so bereft of any joy at all?” Lexia tapped the cane on Delila’s buttocks. When she didn’t answer her, Lexia let the baton rap harshly across Delila’s upper ass, and an impassioned groan replied.
“Tell me,” she insisted again.
The young woman was silent still.
“You will not bury yourself in this place, Delila Armand. I will not let you. If I have to beat the truth from you, I shall!” The woman let the baton speak for her, delivering a dozen stinging shots until Delila was sobbing and Lexia stopped again, coming to Delila’s naked side and whispering into her ear. “Tell me.”
There were tears streaming down the young woman’s cheeks. “I’m here forever, doesn’t that say enough,” she answered.
“No, you lie,” Lexia replied, and rapped her again where it hurt the most.
“How can you say that? How can you, who live here and love it, not know that I can’t go back. You couldn’t.”
“I’m not you.” The timbre of Lexia dark rusty voice purred in her ear, like a big cat’s purr, like that of a mother panther. “I said you were going to triumph, bitch, and I mean that.”
“How can I? You and Mira both knew you couldn’t go back there and survive for a second?” She was pleading, with tears and wailing, a proverbial floodgate unleashed.
“There are other ways!” she roared. “And you will find them!” Lexia swept out of the room, as if on a broomstick, her long dress trailing savagely behind her, only confirming Delila’s suspicions that the woman was a sorceress.
Delila: The last thing Lexia told me when she returned to cut me down was not to submerge myself in this place. I could almost hear her voice begging. If she hadn’t been so tough and harsh and steadfast, I might have heard sorrow where I’d never heard it before. She gave me courage, at least for a few days, to accept her simple thesis on trust alone, since there was nothing else in my experience that was changing my feelings about my life.
Chapter Thirty-One
“You’re a smarmy beast, de Angeles.” Armand was drinking the offered shot of clear liquid the detective poured into his coffee mug.
“This stuff is superb, hardly leaves a scent on your breath.”
“Where’d you get it?” Armand asked.
“Where did we always get it?”
“You’ve been north?”
“Just returned.”
“So, how’s the operation up there?”
“You know I can’t say a thing, since you’ve been ‘de-classified.’“
Armand shrugged and returned to the stack of papers on his desk.
“Must be getting on your nerves by now,” de Angeles pressed, pouring another shot of liquor in Armand’s mug.
“You better watch it with that stuff,” Armand said.
The man smirked.
“Just in case you wondered, friend, the rumors are true.”
“What rumors? What are you talking about?”
“The ladies.”
“What ladies?”
“Women of the night, the condemned sluts that sell what men yearn for here.” He spoke in whispers.
“Humph!”
“The brothel.”
“So, you’re certain now?” Armand jibed, remembering a dozen times the swarthy man had drunk his contraband spirits and mused about having women with no shame.
“I’ve been there,” he said.
Armand looked at him with one eye peering coldly.
“It’s a joke really, the people you’ll find on the guest list.”
“You were there to close them down, or join the fun?”
“Close them down?” He looked furtively over his shoulder. “Why would I want to do that when it’s an easy fuck, as many times as you want?”
The conversation was making Armand sweat, making the skin between his thighs prickly hot. His cock made a quick jolt, though he tried squelching the reaction.
“I can get you in?” de Angeles said.
“Me? Condemned by the State? Me? They only keep me around to keep an eye on me.”
/> “But you’re a perfect customer. You’re not going to sell out.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’ve watched you, friend. Two years I’ve watched you. You’ve been ruined and disillusioned.” The man shook his head in amazement. “You should see it; there’s every kind of unspeakable thing accomplished in that place.” De Angeles was in awe.
“Yes, and it should make you wonder, the stories of woman that would degrade themselves so,” Armand replied.
“Tis a wonder,” de Angeles agreed. He eyed Armand knowing his friend was simply being cagey. “I’ll take you. You just give the word.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Ah, I plant the seeds of creation and they germinate so well,” Degas murmured in his Madam’s ear.
“What are you playing triumphant about now?” Lexia murmured back.
The two stood at the entrance to the main chamber gazing at the festivities as if they were seeing them for the first time.
“My precious, Delila. Tonight will secure her future with us.”
“How is that?”
Degas chuckled darkly. “That little slip of a husband, who she moons about so, tonight he’ll see her defiled as she’s been for months. He’ll be defiled himself before this night’s over. Can the happy couple survive such a horror?” He began with merriment in his voice and eyes, and ended with a rapturous chill. His visage turned to stone as he rested his eyes on his working whores.
“You’re a despicable ass,” Lexia said, as she was about to walk away.
“You watch your words, or I’ll break my vow and cane your ass.”
“You watch your threats; you know I have more power over you than you have over me.”
“Yes, but you can’t use it without ending all this.” He gestured broadly. “And you wouldn’t want to; you’re having too much fun.” The merriment returned to his eyes as he completed his barb.
“What you don’t know,” she snickered, and walked to her next customer, placing a hand on a new man’s crotch, and pulling him away with her into the bowels of the Island to screw.
***
“You brought a friend with you,” Degas noted, seeing de Angeles with Armand at the entrance door.
“He’s been a man without a wife for a long time. I think he needs some comfort.”
“By all means then, enjoy,” Degas answered. “The place is yours; don’t forget to discover all its finest treasures. You will show him around, won’t you?”
De Angeles smiled and sauntered to the center of the main chamber where there were dancing girls to marvel at.
Armand: My wildest imagination couldn’t conjure this place in my thoughts. No equivalent in the real world, like some degenerate jewel, this haven of sumptuous sensations attacked me with a violent charge, seducing me into its heart, even when part of me was repulsed.
My cock, attacked by the blatant sexuality, sprung up hard inside my pants. With de Angeles pushing me toward cubicles in the back of the monstrous room, I found myself planted between a woman’s legs too quickly for me to remember making the choice. Her fragrance was criminal, such perfumes, just one small reminder how against the Law this Outer Island was. That knowledge didn’t keep me from ejaculating happily in that woman’s cunt. So wet and warm, I was thinking of Delila only an instant. Staring at the harlot’s face, I was surprised to see contentment in her eyes, and that expression took my thoughts away and made them stay with her.
In the back of my mind, I knew I’d succumb, even when I vowed otherwise. In that first hour, I succumbed twice: once with the imprisoned whore, and then again when I returned to the main chamber, and an ash blonde vixen with a pixie set of eyes and a superb pair of red painted lips began to fondle me through my pants. She led me away, into some incense-filled room where there were others moving in the naked heat against each other, their bodies entwined like the vines of summer, and such fragrance that would rival the smell of springtime where the earth still reveals such aromas.
I ceased to think again, my heart beating a slow measured pace as I melded with the bodies, finding mine as quickly naked as my blonde hostess for this party. A cunt presented to my face, I took it in my mouth like a holy sacrament to devour. Someone at my cock had the organ deep inside their mouth, and it was swelling again. Nagging fears and guilt were gone so quickly from me, I couldn’t think of it at the time, though I would be astounded later to remember how easily I was lured to such perversions, how quickly I gave up that other place where my mind had been molded by the heavy handed vice-grip of the State. Later, I would also think, I’d been slipped some smuggled potion, although I was assured that Outer Island was clean of such bootlegged goods.
I have no idea how long I swam in the sea of such sexual luxury, having my body serviced by at least six whores. I wanted to stay to feel their ruby lips on me, where they were bold enough to kiss me places that even Delila had not ventured. In the deep cavern of my darkest place, in that recess between my legs, I was tongued by expert tongues, mouthed into erotic bliss more potent than I’d ever felt. When I ejaculated this time, it seemed an unceasing venture. Though I know it was only seconds long, it seemed hours the measure of satisfaction that consumed every pore of me.
I sat up with a jerk when my mind was returning me to my proper senses. Dressing in just my trousers, I anxiously returned to the main chamber, forgetting the whores, thinking there was something else waiting for me in this place, though I had no idea what it might be. After at time, I was drawn to it— to the sounds of shrill cries and then the familiar snapping of leather. I wandered toward the sounds, as if ancient sirens were tempting me with their voices stirring my memory.
***
When Armand approached the leather room, Degas joined the man and begged him follow, as he led the way through a small maze of rooms into the darker places of the Island.
“You’ve only seen a small portion of my domain until you have a few moments in these realms,” he said, speaking into Armand’s ear, his lips close enough to touch.
On first glimpse of that mystical place with burning candles and power scented smoke, Armand moved cautiously. The idea that something was coming out to capture him was not far from his thoughts. “You cane them?” he asked, seeing the implements on the wall.
“If it’s a cane you like, I have many. Though I recommend leather, the whips and straps; they don’t damage the flesh as easily.” Degas moved his customer to the side of the space where the implements hung like specters of things, ready to be taken in hand. “That girl in the corner should suit your fancy, the one over the bar,” he said, pointing to the hooded woman fastened over an angled padded bar. Her legs bound widely apart, her arms bound behind her, she looked as if she barely teetered on the top of the sloping rod; and yet she was amply secured, with a wide and heavy strap cinched around her waist. “She’ll want your thick cock in her ass.”
Armand: I stared at the captive woman. She’d become an orifice to use and nothing more. The idea of it was depraved; the cruelty of this place was unmatched. How could she want this, the debasing so complete? However, as much as I thought I should walk away in disgust, I couldn’t help but approach in fascination. After just an hour’s rest, my well-worked prick responded again.
The voice beside me kept encouraging me on with whispered appeals to have the woman as I would fashion. He suggested a scourge or whip, because she liked that treatment. He entreated me to be harsh because that’s what her servitude to me required. She could be my slave, so he said.
After my host knelt at the woman’s side and whispered in her ear, she begged for my attentions. And how she begged! I listened to her heart-felt murmurings, she was in some kind of ecstasy and I could not prevent my willing response. Coming toward her offered ass, I noted how well it was already marked. Even in the dim light, I could see that it had been well cared for by someone’s lash. The red blush was still hot to touch, and when I squeezed it, she let out the most delightful gasp.
; Her anal entry was readily available to me, having been well prodded at least once that night so that it was used to the penetration. My fingers slid easily inside the channel, opening with two, then three, then four. I fucked her with them vigorously. I thought I might invade her with my whole fist – that was how extreme my desire had gone. That might please her, but that wouldn’t please me as much as planting my thick organ in her dark channel. Just once before in Delila’s ass … I thought of my wife, but the instant was brief. My decision made, I took my erection and jabbed hard to the woman’s center.
“She likes it nasty, don’t you!” my host bellowed, inspired by my quick act. “Don’t you!” he bellowed again and he pulled at the hood that hid her face from me, jerking her neck back so I could hear her reply.
“Ah! Yes!” she replied whole-heartedly as I extended her present ecstasy. As best as she could, she ground her ass end into my groin, letting my prick nestle deep within her. She taunted me, implored me to continue, and I could think of nothing I’d rather do.
I felt as if I’d fallen off the planet into another world, where I recognized nothing except what my body knew was right. That knowledge came from the core of being where there was no mistaking the message.
I slapped this whore’s ass as we fucked. Then accepting a whip from someone at my side, I flailed her behind and her back until I could see the red rise even in the smoky dark. I let my most chilling cold prevail where clamoring things at times would surface from my soul’s depth, riding the wicked woman hard because she deserved this treachery. For an instant of time, I became the man that I’d been before my capture, the man I was when I was assigned dangerous missions for the State, and had to call up all the verve and power of elemental forces just to survive. Relishing this power in me, I flaunted it haughtily before the company of people that looked on. They applauded me with sneers and gibes aimed at the whore I defiled. However, the two of us so basely united, dove deeply into our common debauchery, and together claimed a conqueror’s victory. There was an all too familiar rush at the end, as my clouded consciousness began to recognize the true nature of my act.
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