The Lisa Series (39 page)

I knew I should have said ‘no’. Instead, I nodded. “Well,” he continued, “after I came in her ass she wanted to get cleaned up, wanted to take a shower. We both went into the bathroom. I like to see her pee. She don’t like for me to watch, but I made her do it. When she was done, I made her lay down in the tub, naked. She’s so damn small but that tight little body’s perfect, you know. She got that tiny waist, and them titties was stickin straight up. She looked scared. I climbed in the tub and stood over her. I told her she was gonna watch me pee. She was gonna get a shower, a golden shower.” He nudged me with his elbow and laughed. “I’d been drinkin beer all night so my bladder was ready to bust. She started yellin and was tryin to get out of the tub. I held her down with my foot and asked her whose woman she was. She got quiet, you know, like she does. Finally, she said she was my woman. I told her again about the golden shower. She didn’t say nothin. She just laid there, real scared, lookin up at me, hoping I wouldn’t do it”

“Shut up,” I said. “I don’t want to hear anymore.”

We drove in silence for a few minutes. “You sure, Billy?” Silk grinned across at me. I didn’t answer. “Try to see the picture, Billy,” he began again. “Here was your little wife all naked laying in my stained old tub and me there, one foot on each side of her waist, wavin my limp prick at her. She was wet between the legs, Billy, and her nipples was pointin straight up. So, Billy, I pissed all over your pretty wife.”

“She...she...didn’t...” I stammered.

“Drink my piss? No she kept her mouth closed tight. I could have made her open it, but I didn’t. But, goddamn, she sure got a fuckin shower. Yellow piss, Billy, must of been a gallon of it splashin all over her titties and belly and runnin down into her shaved cunt. I even pissed on her face and her hair. She shut her eyes and squirmed around, but there wasn’t nothin she could do.” We sat in silence for several minutes. Silk had leaned back and closed his eyes. He sighed, “Ahh, yeah, Billy, that was a real treat, pissin all over your wife’s pretty face and watching how fuckin hard her nipples was getting while I did it.”

The limousine swung off the Expressway and then turned onto a narrow, winding road, which I guessed was taking us north toward Long Island Sound. “I don’t think it’s too much further,” Silk commented. “I’ll tell you the rest of the story.” He shifted in his seat, getting comfortable. “Frank was sending Dooley over to pick us up. Me and Lisa, we ain’t had no breakfast yet. Lisa was really begging me to let her take a real shower now, but I wouldn’t. And I wouldn’t let her dry herself.”

“Goddamn you Silk,” I said.

“Yeah, well, I see your prick is almost bustin out of your pants,” he answered. “I made her put on one of them see-through white blouses she has, and a short skirt, and the heels. Jesus, Billy, she was still soakin wet so the blouse stuck right to her body. You could see her titties like they was bare. Dooley was right on time. We let Lisa wear a raincoat cause it was cold out. When I told Dooley to stop at the Pancake House for lunch, Lisa got upset and started to bawl. But she knows who’s boss, so in we go. It was crowded. I picked us a table right in the middle. You should of seen the people who was havin their Sunday lunch when they got a load of this good lookin young woman between big black Dooley and old Silk.”

He leaned back again and shook his head, remembering. “I made her take off the raincoat. She sure didn’t want to do that but, finally, she took it off. There she was wearin this blouse, like in a wet tee shirt contest. It was plastered against her tits and her nipples was almost pokin holes in it. Then the people near us started to sniff like they smelled something bad, which they did. It was old Silk’s beer piss. When the waitress come to our table, her face got as red as a fuckin tomato. She couldn’t take the order fast enough. Before she come back, Dooley had his hand under the table and was finger fucking little Lisa.” He laughed. “You ever finger fuck your wife in a restaurant, Billy?”

“No, you bastard,” I said.

“Shit, Billy, you don’t know how to treat a woman like her. Well, Dooley, he’s good. He got what they call a ‘slow hand’. He knows how to keep a woman on the edge of cumin for a long, long time. That’s the way it was all through lunch. Lisa’s blouse stickin to her tits, her nipples stickin out, and by now it’s known to everyone around us that she’s gettin finger fucked by the bald black stud sittin next to her. She couldn’t eat nothin. She just sits there with her head down. But she can’t help makin these little noises when Dooley gets her almost ready to cum.”

He didn’t say anything for several minutes. Finally, I asked, “Did she...did she.”

“Cum?” he answered. “Yeah, just before we left, Dooley let her get off. She grabbed the edge of the table and you could see under it, how she was pushin against his hand. She was bitin her lip and moanin. Them folks around us will be talkin about that lunch for the rest of their fuckin lives.” He was quiet for a few minutes. He had closed his eyes and leaned back. “When we left, Billy,” he began again, his eyes still shut, “I didn’t let her put on the raincoat till we was outside. I told her to stand straight and walk with her head up. She was still breathin hard cause she’d just cum. That pee soaked blouse stickin to her nice titties and them long nipples pushin out...you know how they get, Billy.” He sighed, “Ah, that was some fuckin sight.”

A little beyond Great Neck we stopped in a wooded area before a heavy iron gate. The driver inserted a card in the gatepost and the gate opened. After we’d driven through, I heard it clang shut behind us. The driveway turned and twisted through big trees for about a mile and finally ended in front of a huge stone mansion.

We were met at the door by a husky young man wearing a black suit and a bow tie. He led us down a wide hall and through a pair of tall oak doors into what had once been a ballroom. It was circular. High overhead arched a domed ceiling. Leaded pane windows were spaced evenly around the walls, however very little light filtered through them. There were sconces along the walls as well as elaborate candelabra. Placed between these were dark leather couches and chairs. The floor was polished hardwood. In the center of the room stood a circular platform with a single step leading up to it. The floor of the platform was also made of gleaming hardwood. Directly above the platform, against the ceiling, hung a circle of black cloth the same diameter as the platform. It was bunched together like drapery that had been pulled up.

Several men in expensive dark suits were gathered at one side of the room speaking in a language I couldn’t recognize. Other similarly dressed men entered and joined them. Most of the men were bearded and dark complexioned. They were all, I guessed, from the Middle East. Our guide ushered us over to the opposite side to sit with Frank and Dooley and an older man I had not met. “Ahh, Billy,” Frank said, “glad you could make it.” He touched the arm of the older man, “This here’s Mr. Stewart. He’s our lawyer. First thing you got to do is sign the divorce papers.”

He led us to a small table. Mr. Stewart opened his briefcase and took out a folder of legal papers. Leafing through the documents, Stewart explained, “Your wife, you will notice, has already signed them. You just sign under her name. No need to read them. It’s a standard agreement. Of course, she’s asking for nothing.”

“Of course,” I said. Under the fat round letters of Lisa’s signature, I quickly scribbled my name.

“It will take a few days for the court to legalize these.” Stewart put the papers into his briefcase. “By Wednesday you will be a free man with no encumbrances.” We were led back to our seats. I noticed that there were two large unoccupied leather chairs against the wall to our right. They were placed between two of the tall windows and rested on a thick red carpet.

“You’d think these rich bastards would at least spring for some booze,” Silk complained.

“They don’t drink. They don’t curse. And they don’t care,” Frank said.

“What the hell are we waiting for?” Silk asked.

“The Emir and his two sons,” Stewart explained.

“She’s being sold to an Emir?” I asked.

“Yeah, one of the richest,” Frank said. “He owns half the oil in Kuwait.”

“Will he be here?”

“I’m not sure.” Frank said.“He’s fucking old and in a wheelchair.”

“What’s he want with a young woman?” Silk wanted to know.

“I think he’s kind of kinky,” Frank said.

“He likes to watch?” Stewart asked, smiling.

“Yeah, in a way. My contact told me the thing on the tape we sent that really made him sit up was the scene with Arisha.”

“The whipping?” I asked.

“Yeah, Billy, the part where you shot your load halfway across the room,” Frank chuckled.

We were interrupted by the sound of chimes. The men at the other side of the room stopped talking and turned to face the entrance. The heavy doors swung open and two tall, dark, heavy-set Arabs in flowing white robes stood on either side of a wheelchair in which sat a small wizened old man. The doors closed behind them. The wheelchair was pushed by a woman dressed from head to foot in black. Except for her eyes, her face was hidden by a back scarf. Behind her walked another younger woman similarly dressed. She carried a long, narrow case.

They crossed to the leather chairs. The old man’s wheelchair was turned around, and the two younger men sat on either side of him. The women stood behind them. Everyone faced the double entrance doors. The chimes rang again and, once more, the doors swung open. In the entrance stood Lisa. It was a different Lisa than I had ever seen. Silk gasped and even Frank looked astonished.

She wore a black severely tailored pin-striped suit. The skirt reached just below her knees. Her jet black hair had been cut in a short bob that framed her pale face. Her make-up was perfect. On her feet were black leather high heels, but not as impossibly high as the shoes she was made to wear at Silk’s. Except for the fact that her legs were bare, she might have been taken for a young tastefully and expensively dressed American socialite. She stared straight ahead, her face an expressionless blank. I watched closely as Lisa walked to the platform, stepped up on it, and stood facing the old man and his sons. She looked at them for a moment. I saw a flicker of fear cross her face. Then, she lowered her eyes and bowed her head.

The older of the two women standing behind the wheelchair rang a little silver bell she’d been carrying. Lisa nodded. There were three large buttons on her suit jacket. Her small hand trembled slightly as she unbuttoned the first, then the second, and the third. She pushed the jacket down over her shoulders and lifted her head. The jacket made a slight whispering sound as it fell to the floor. As I had seen her do so many times before, she cupped her small breasts with her hands as if she were offering them to the men she faced.

I winced as I noticed that each of her beautiful nipples had been pierced to hold a thin gold ring. Her back was partly toward us, and I could see faded whip marks crisscrossing it. The color of the marks suggested that the whipping had taken place several days ago. I was sure Arisha had delivered the blows.

The woman rang her bell again. Lisa obediently unzipped the waist of her skirt, pushed it down over her hips, and stepped out of it. Her tiny body gleamed with a sheen of perfumed oil. She bowed her head, then raised it, but kept her eyes lowered. She placed both hands behind her neck as she’d been taught. Her breasts lifted. Her nipples had been slightly rouged, and the gold rings glinted in the light. She stood on display like that for several minutes. The two fat sons whispered together, then the older one leaned down to say something to his father. Frank nudged me and winked.

The woman shook her silver bell. Lisa turned so that her back was toward the three men. She bent over, placing her hands on her ass cheeks, then spread them to display for the old Emir and his sons her most private place. One of the sons smiled. The old man nodded his head. Lisa’s rounded ass cheeks, like her back, were marked by fading lash strokes. For several minutes Lisa remained bent over exposing her anal opening to the men who, it seemed, looked at her as they might a fine young colt they were thinking about buying.

The sons spoke to one another, and then each said something to the father. Without looking up at them, he shook his head. Again the old woman rang her bell. Obviously, Lisa knew what each of these signals meant. Once more, I saw a moment of fear in her eyes as she stood up. Again, clasping her hands behind her neck, she turned to face the three men. She closed her eyes and I was aware that her breathing was becoming more rapid. Her small breasts rose and fell. I was sickened by the thought of her perfect nipples pierced now to accommodate the gold rings. Who had made the holes for the rings? Arisha most likely, using a piercing tool with nothing to dull the pain. Had Lisa consented? She must have, but it was hard to believe.

The old woman shuffled to the platform and stepped up on it. She carried the elegant leather case and, stooping down beside Lisa, she opened it and drew out several black leather cuffs and several lengths of black velvet cord. These she laid out in a row on the platform floor. She stood and, taking Lisa by the arm, led her out toward the edge of the platform.

She rang the bell again. I noticed Lisa flinch. There was a whirring sound and slowly out of the center of the platform there rose a thick black column made, it seemed, of highly polished ebony. The post was about three feet in diameter. It continued to rise to a height of almost twelve feet. Embedded in it at measured intervals were stainless steel rings. The woman quickly fastened a pair of the leather cuffs to Lisa’s ankles. The other pair she placed on Lisa’s upper arms just above the elbows. She fitted a collar around Lisa’s neck and locked it. Finally, she cinched a wide black leather belt tightly around Lisa’s tiny wrist. Both the collar and the belt had a steel ring secured to the front and another attached to the back. Next, the woman picked up a ball-gag. Lisa opened her mouth to accept it. After it was pulled tight and buckled, Lisa stepped back until she stood against the pole.