Mind Blower (3 page)

I lowered myself onto her and felt my cock immediately sink into the sticky hot pussy. It was as paradisical as I expected. The natural space between her thighs made her cunt like a snug harbor. There was nothing between me and total penetration. I pushed all the way in, and then out. I moved the tip of my cock around the fringes of the outer lips. I teased at the cunt hole, and then rammed violently in. I moved from side to side, came in at a dozen different angles. And only when I got in from above, rubbing her clitoris with the shaft of my cock as the head penetrated her, did she move. It was an involuntary spasm, but that tiny response was more exciting than most of the thrashing around that is usually done. I kept riding her high until the tension mounted past her ability to control, and she opened her legs wider, pulled her knees up to her chest, and exposed the deepest part of her box. I drove all the way in, to that spot where the symbolic virginity perpetually lies, and rode home until the hot sperm spilled out of me and splashed against the walls of the inside of her body.
 

Unexpectedly, as I lay in her arms, I fell into a peaceful sleep, and when I woke up a half hour later, we were in exactly the same position. My cock was still inside her. I roused myself and stretched my cramped limbs a bit, and she stirred too. We gingerly disengaged our bodies and sat up.
 

I looked at her for a long time. She seemed even younger now. "What's your name?" I asked. "Anita," she said. There didn't seem to be too much else to say.
 

"You're new here, aren't you?" she asked. I lit a cigarette. "Yes, and you?"

"I've been here . . . quite a while."

There was something very odd about the way she spoke, as though she weren't really interested in herself or in me or anything. "When did you come here?" I asked. "What brought you?"
 

She laughed nervously. "The stork brought me."

"No, really," I implored.

"It's true," she said. "I was born here. Doctor Tocco is my father."

My eyes bugged out. "Your father! And you mean he lets you ... I mean ... do you ... I..." I trailed off.

"It's all right," she said, "sex isn't a bad thing. And I like it. But . . ."

"But what?"

She drew in a long soulful breath. "It gets kind of boring after a while, doesn't it?"

"Well," I said, getting polemical, "that's the purpose of the research here, isn't it? To solve the problem of boredom? Besides, you didn't seem bored a half hour ago."
 

She grew very sad. "No, it's always exciting the first time with someone. But I want to be able to stay with somebody. I want to get married and have children. I want a man that I can love all the time."
 

Poor Tocco, I thought. Here he is with the world's most far-out sexual scene going, and his daughter wants to go live in a house with a white picket fence, cooking and fucking for a nine-to-fiver, when she could have the pick of any kind of relationship she wanted.
 

I felt kind of sorry for her, even though I didn't begin to understand the complexities of the situation, and had no desire to go into them. It all seemed too much like a Gothic soap-opera. To be polite I asked, "Well, why don't you leave?"
 

She looked at me and my scalp tingled as I got a precognition flash on what she was going to say before the words were out of her mouth. "I can't," she answered. "He won't let me out."
 

"You must be joking," I said.

"You too," she responded. "You can't get out either."

I looked wildly around the room. Of course, that was the odd thing that had bothered me without my being able to put a finger on it. There was no window. And the building was soundproofed. I started to get up but she put an arm on my shoulder. "Believe me," she said flatly, "you can't." And I believed her, for her tone was that of someone who is telling an unpleasant but necessary truth.
 

What kind of man is Tocco? I wondered. But my thought was distracted by a sensation, and I focussed in to see Anita leaning over and swishing her long silken hair over my thighs. Slowly she lowered her head further and further until her hair lay like a sand-pile on my legs, and then I felt her warm, lush mouth cover my genitals entirely. And as her tongue began lapping at the base of my cock, the erection began to grow and throb with anticipation.
 

I lay back and let her suck me off while I pondered my strange situation. Perhaps Tocco.was a madman, but there was nothing to do about it now. If I were to be shot in the morning, I might as well enjoy the night. And I turned all my attention to the beautiful face which seemed to be staring with such intensity at my pubic hair as the mouth moved in easy glides up and down the shaft of my prick.
 

THREE

THE FOLLOWING morning brought anxiety. After Anita left I lay in bed for a while, and then prowled the corridor. The door to the downstairs was solid oak and bolted shut. The other rooms on the floor were similar to mine, but I only got a dim impression of their contents, since the light switches weren't functional. Some seemed to be outfitted with leather couches, mirrors and videotape equipment; others were either totally bare or covered from wall to wall with mattresses; one looked like a miniaturized laboratory. At one point a door opened and Susan came out into the hall. Her hair was dishevelled and her nightgown was obviously just thrown on in haste. I sensed that there was someone in her room, and for an instant I felt a totally irrational pang of jealousy and possessiveness. She looked at me oddly, then said, "I heard doors opening and closing."
 

I tried my best cheerful manner. "Just looking around," I said. I edged toward her door, feeling slightly malicious. "Uh, is it too late for us to have a drink and talk?"
 

She fixed me with a long hard stare. "Don't play games, Michael. I am in the first stages of fucking someone, and your knocking around out here has interrupted it, and I don't feel like a threesome tonight." I smiled, and it felt like a mule shitting briars. "No need to get touchy, Susan." She shook her hair out. "I'm always annoyed when men are coy." And with that she went back inside and slammed the door shut.
 

I stood around foolishly for a while, and then decided that there was nothing I could do about anything, and went to bed where I began counting backwards from a million until I fell asleep. When I woke up there was not the slightest indication of what time it was, but my internal clock told me it must be around ten. I began going through my catatonic dialogue, in which the intellect attempts to convince the body that there is a valid reason for getting up, and the body lies there knowing full well that the notion of activity is a prejudice best done away with. This morning the conversation became unusually dull, the body was about to win by filibuster, and I began dozing back off to sleep.
 

Suddenly the door burst open. I sat up and saw an eerie sight. It was Tocco, dressed in spangled Bermuda shorts, flanked by two absolutely beautiful men. One was tall, black, and deeply-muscled, while the other was pale white, thin, and soft as a deer. Behind them came Susan, dressed as a nurse, carrying a tray of vials, syringes, vaporizers, and small bottles. They sailed in majestically.
 

Tocco was his usual exuberant self. "If you are at all normal, Michael," he began, "you are now in a state of anxiety and suspicion. You are convinced that I am a madman who has locked you in to wreak strange tortures upon you. And in one sense, that interpretation is entirely correct. You may feel your mind slipping. And that is just as it should be. Our intention this morning is, in fact, to give it a little push. Your worst habit is this constant effort to rationalize things, to figure them out. As though the universe made sense! A preposterous preoccupation."
 

I started to protest that I hadn't even told him why I had come to ISM, but my efforts were brushed aside. The four of them surrounded the bed, and I twisted my head frantically, trying to read some kind of intent in their eyes. The two strange men, at a signal from Tocco, took off their clothes and came to sit on either side of me on the bed. I realized that I could, at any moment, jump up and be free, but morbid curiosity riveted me to the spot. A kind of powerlessness overcame me, and although I knew that I had control, pretending to lose that control sent a thrill of sexual undercurrent through my body.
 

"Lie back, Michael," Tocco said. "You are still half asleep, still in dreams. Not only this morning, but through your entire life. You get through your days and you have flashes of insight, but you are not yet able to perceive things as they are. Now, outside this building, the sun is shining, and civilization is making its rounds, but here we have cancelled time; the only time which exists is the rise and fall of desire." I closed my eyes and the words washed over me like waves. "Here, there is only desire . . . overwhelming, blind, endless, insatiable desire. And you are its manifestation, its slave."

As he spoke, Susan slipped a hypodermic needle into my arm, and I felt the first speed flash almost before I could flinch. The great rush of indescribable bliss poured through me. I was flushed with longing, with an immense love which expanded through all space and embraced everything that existed in the entire universe. My arms and legs became heavy and my skin grew sensitive to the air; I lay back open, uncaring, ready to accept whatever the universe wanted to give.
 

I felt hands, many hands, begin to caress my body. I didn't know whose they were and it didn't matter. It was flesh, it was alive, it was wanting. Lips came down and covered my mouth, and a large, rough tongue worked its way under my lips, around my teeth, into my cheeks, on my own tongue. The mouth was insistent, hungry, and I was ready to give it everything.
 

Simultaneously, hands parted my legs, and fingers groped between the cheeks of my ass. I couldn't restrain myself. I flung my legs open and kicked my feet into the air, exposing myself, writhing, yearning, moving. Teeth bit at my nipples with little tearing bites, hurting but not damaging, almost damaging, sending waves of sensitive resistance through me. Then they moved down, gnawing at my ribs.
 

Another mouth covered my cock and began sucking, pulling, lapping. I was spent with spasms of ecstasy. All the sensations merged, and suddenly I flashed a high stone altar at noon under a scorching sun. Aztec priests chanted over the sacrifice; their great gold mantles shone like fire. Below, ten thousand people roared, and that roar blended with the pounding in my ears. I was the sacrifice; I was the body being offered, the flesh which was being torn and eaten. I was smothered with bodies and breath and movement. I laughed in triumph. Willingly I gave myself. Let the stone knife penetrate my bowels. I heard myself moaning, "Give it to me, do it, do it, fuck me, kill me, eat me, give it to me, yes, yes . . ."
 

Then everyone suddenly pulled back and stood again by the side of the bed, coldly, quietly. It was as though they had thrown cold water on me. I opened my eyes, unbelieving. I felt like a lunatic being objectively observed by psychiatrists. Immediately, I felt my nakedness, my physical nakedness, my psychological exposure. I was ashamed, and from the shame grew anger. And then I felt sick to my stomach. I began to get off the bed when Tocco put a restraining hand on my shoulder.
 

"Now, remember what you are here for."

"I don't know what I'm here for!" I screamed. "I wanted to find out more about sex, and I heard about this underground society. But now I'm locked in with a bunch of sadists, and being humiliated, and . . ." But I heard the sound of my voice, and I admitted to myself, much to my chagrin, that it was no different from that of a whining child. I subsided, and the feelings must have shown on my face, for Tocco said, "Yes, I'm glad you saw it yourself. Of course you are to be humiliated. That is not the least of what will happen to you here. Do you think we have time to waste in simple orgies?
It is the shock which teaches.
And the shock does no good if you are expecting it, or are able to take it in stride. But we will save the theoretical discussion for later. For now, I want you to observe what a will-less puppet you are."
 

With that the black man came up onto the bed and pushed me back down. He knelt with his knees at my ears. He had an enormous cock, even limp, and it hung over my face like a curved banana. The others watched. Inside me my emotions and the speed churned, and I was in no mood for sex. But he leaned forward and just barely touched the edges of my lips with the head of his cock. Immediately upon contact I succumbed. Desire grabbed me like a balled fist. I felt myself go soft, and then moved my head from side to side so my mouth would just touch the very sensitive opening in the tip of the prick, giving him the most exquisite of light sensations. The pressure in my chest increased.
 

I felt my face change. I attempted to contact the inner feelings, and realized that I was suddenly sixteen, and a girl. I had become a skittish young virgin, much like the kind that I used to date, the kind whose defenses provided their greatest source of eroticism. I realized that I was reliving a projection, and now I was to learn first-hand about those defenses. But I would also have control. I was the dispenser of pleasure, and I could play with him as delicately as I wanted. Revelations surged through me as I put my tongue out ever so slightly and inserted it into the opening of his cock. I could hear him pull in his breath quickly. I moved down and put my tongue at the crack where thighs and balls meet, the most sensitive part.
 

Then I heard a snap, and the sweet smell of amyl nitrate filled the room. An inhalator was put into my nose, and as I breathed deeply, a voice said, "Go down on him, baby, go all the way down. Lick him good."