The Red Scare

by Lynn Lake

  She moaned, ‘Please! Please!’ Ambiguous as to whether I should pull back or plough forward.

  I proceeded full steam ahead, plunging the plastic dildo through Constance’s slickened lips and deep into her luscious pussy. Sealing the deal with the setting on “High”.

  She shrieked, her body buzzing like the fuck-toy inside her, her breasts and flesh shivering, nipple clamps just about popping off. I fitted a black leather bit into the girl’s mouth and managed to fasten it around her thrashing head.

  Then I rolled her over onto her side, leaving the vibrator inside her doing its dirty work. I snatched up a varnished miniature cricket bat and whacked Constance’s boisterous butt cheeks with the flattened paddle. She jerked and quivered, her bum blushing deliciously. It wasn’t all about getting answers any more; it was also about getting satisfaction – in the worst, most depraved way possible.

  I was on fire, blazing with strange, raw emotions that stormed through my body and welled out my pussy, set my breasts and brain to burning. I’d been turned on by Constance’s bondage and domination escapades from afar, and now I was aroused like never before by becoming a first-hand participant in her sinful games. It was all a new, raunchy experience for me, with the reigning, gush-inducing star of the twisted genre.

  I went wild, unleashing my inner kink on Miss Cumming, like she wanted it on paper and in reality. I paddled her thick, mounded bottom, fanning her porcelain back-hills red and searing. Then I dropped the bat and grabbed up the riding crop, smacked the flexible leather across Constance’s tremoring buttocks. Her body spasmed with each strapping blow, gasps drooling out from the bit between her clenched teeth, her handcuffs grating on the iron rails.

  I was way overdressed for this kind of work. I ripped off my jacket and tie and shirt, kicked off my shoes, tore away my slacks and panties, setting my superheated flesh free. I was even more nude and lewd than laid-out Constance, her balled-up dress and black leather boots still covering a little of her awesome body. I didn’t feel one iota cooler, however; in fact, I felt even hotter.

  I straddled Constance’s legs, turned the riding crop over to my left hand and kept on spanking her cheeks, as I roughly fondled her tits with my right hand. The dildo buzzing away deep in her cunt.

  She rolled her eyes at me, her lips writhing around the bit. She wanted to scream something. But now I wasn’t at all ready to listen. Instead, I flared red stripes onto her quivering rump, groping her shuddering tits and pulling on her elongated nipples.

  Finally, I tossed the crop aside and rolled Constance back over. Her heated bum hissed through her lips against the relative cool of the bedspread.

  I pulled the vibrating dildo out of her pussy and the fur-lined clamps off her nipples. Then I jammed one end of a huge, 18-inch, red dong into her cunt. I plugged the other end of the two-woman c-saw into my own steaming pussy, taking the plunge. Constance squeezed her eyes shut and thrust out her tits. And I fell over the top of the glorious girl, onto her welcoming breasts, embedding the two-headed dong inside the both of us.

  Our bare skin sucked together, hot and moist and shimmering, breasts and nipples squishing, clits kissing. I yanked the wettened leather bit out of Constance’s mouth and slammed my hungry lips down onto her gasping ones, pumping my hips, fucking us together.

  Her tongue wrapped around mine inside her mouth, her body undulating beneath my body to the pumping beat of the dong in our cunts. It was confession time, my subject now punished and primed to spout information.

  I jerked my head back, my tongue out of her mouth, and grabbed the sides of her semi-flattened tits, locking the pussy-cocking motion in with my hips. ‘What’s with all the Red-baiting material, Constance?’ I tried again, the pair of us melding red-hot.

  Her eyelashes fluttered, and her eyes gained focus. She rattled the handcuffs hooking her wrists to the railings, her body pinned beneath mine, glued pussy to pussy. And then she sighed, breathing sweet relief all over my strained face.

  ‘They’re Adele’s. She’s using her dirty book company to publish and distribute pro-Soviet literature, and blackmailing me to help in her dirty dealings.’ Her voice was thick and throaty, as deep-down sexy as the rest of the girl.

  Our hearts and pussies beat together.

  ‘Blackmailing you how?’ I queried, pumping the double dong into us, pumping the truth out of Constance.

  ‘She’s threatened to send some of the photo-books of me to my parents back in Nebraska. So they can see what their daughter’s really doing in the big city.’ The girl’s eyes moistened, and her cute chin trembled. ‘She’s trying to force me to … meet with certain politicians and government officials, plant some of the photo-books on them. And … do other things with them. So she can blackmail them for national secrets she can send back to Moscow.’ Constance sobbed softly with shame.

  That putrid Bolshevik! And to think I’d freely fucked the woman. Adele Katz was putting the “filthy” into the filthy book business, selling our country down the slimy river. Using her lovely model to turn her dirty tricks. Just thinking about men pawing at Constance’s ample feminine charms made me see red.

  I gazed down into the girl’s frightened, watery eyes, my heart and pussy melting. ‘So, that’s why you were meeting with all those women today – to try to gain access to the movers and shakers who Moscow can then shakedown for information, to further their nefarious revolution?’ It was all becoming as clear as a U-2 spy plane photo.

  ‘You know about that?’ Constance snuffled, sheepish at learning she’d been caught in the act.

  I nodded.

  ‘And while Adele’s trying to make me sell out my country, and my soul, she’s also always trying to make me, herself.’ Constance batted tears from her lashes and set her lush mouth. ‘But I’ll never sink that low.’

  I admired everything about the girl, all over again. It was time to turn the interrogation back the way we both wanted it. I grinned and pumped my hips harder, and Constance smiled and pumped back, the pair of us riding the dong of delight.

  Constance kissed me, licked my lips. I clutched her tits tight to my boobs and sucked on her tongue, then rained wet kisses and sharp bites down on her long, supple neck. She rolled her head around on the pillow, moaning and groaning just as loud as me.

  The cunt conflagration roared inferno, the velvety friction intense, both of us drilling deep into our molten sexual cores. The bedsprings squeaked with a raucous urgency, the iron railings rattling right along. Constance and I bounced together, joined at the pussies, stuffed to the G-spots. Our mouths sucked together and our scrambling fingers entwined, bodies and souls merging.

  Then our swollen, sensation-overloaded clits flicked once too many times and we shuddered and screamed, jolted by mutual orgasm, vibrating together with utter joy. Ecstasy churned through us in crashing hot wave after wave. We were made for each other, fitted together at fever pitch.

  Constance didn’t like my idea at first. But as we cuddled together on her toy-strewn bed in the sweet afterglow of our erotic elation, my right hand playing with her nipples, my left gently smacking her bottom, she came to see that my plan had merit. However personally distasteful to her.

  ‘I’m as patriotic as you are, Megan,’ the girl protested charmingly. ‘I really love my country. But seduce Adele Katz?’ She wrinkled her adorable nose and shivered with disgust at the very disturbing thought.

  ‘It won’t take any seduction on your part,’ I assured her, remembering my recent lusty interlude with the Cumming-obsessed publisher. ‘She wants you in the worst way – you told me so yourself. If you can just hold your nose long enough, tease her to the breaking point –’ “like I did with you”, I didn’t bother to add ‘– and get the information out of her early, then that’ll be as far as it has to go. For the good of your country.’

  ‘Who she reports to? And who else is involved in her filthy fifth column?’

  ‘Right. So we can smash this spy ring.’ I gave the girl a squeeze of her
plush tits and buttocks. ‘Adele must be taking her marching orders from someone, have other contacts in the Washington area. She might be just a small twig in an elaborate Communist spy nest.’

  I didn’t have to hold my nose to smell the Congressional Medal of Honour I was going to earn if we pulled this thing off.

  Constance shuddered endearingly against me. Then she turned her lovely face up and smiled with nationalistic resolution. ‘OK, I’ll do it. I’ll sacrifice my body for my country. It’s the least I can do.’

  And the most, I exulted. ‘Good girl!’

  Then I rolled Constance over on top of me for a final pep-fuck.

  Chapter Three

  Constance had a photo-shoot scheduled with Adele for the following day, so the timing was perfect. This book was going to be titled Down Mexico Way, Constance getting bound and gagged and fondled and flogged by a couple of sleazy señorita-types in an equally sleazy motel. The good innocent American girl going south of the border for a fun-in-the sun vacation that takes a nasty lipstick Latina turn. I tingled all over just hearing the promising premise, as recited by its star.

  The location for this lusty snapshot session was the Boulevard Motel on C Street, the set Room 17. I arrived an hour before the 3 p.m. start time and rented Room 18 next door for myself, after taking a quick peek into Room 17 while the maid was changing the sheets, scouting things out.

  One winding drill-bit later, and I had a nice, round sightline through my room wall and into the dark rustic painting hanging on the wall of Room 17. If you’re not a registered voyeur when you start out in the private eye line, you very quickly become one – professionally first, personally next.

  Adele soon arrived and set up shop. Two portable Klieg lights, a tickle trunk full of bondage and beating equipment, and a Leica camera with plenty of flashbulbs and film. The dyed-in-the-Red bottle blonde was decked out in a tight white blouse and billowing tan whipcords, laced-up brown leather boots. She looked like a pint-sized Cecil B. DeMille with a pussy, a cigarette glued to her bright red lips rather than a megaphone.

  The señoritas showed up about ten minutes later – two dark-haired, olive-skinned, slatternly-looking lovelies already in make-up and costume. They had more eye shadow, rouge, and lipstick on their faces than any ten real whores could ever afford, false eyelashes that dusted their brows. Their attire was white, red and green-embroidered peasant blouses and flowing, multi-coloured skirts. Red Light Mexicali come north.

  My breath condensed a wet spot on the wall, my prying orb glued to the spyhole. The two women played with the chains and whips, while Adele sketched out the jerk and jill-off plot for them. Until the star of the whole “she-bang” made her erotic entrance.

  Constance looked absolutely smashing in a red, white, and blue dress and white pumps, her shapely legs bare, her picture-perfect face free of make-up except for some eyeliner for camera purposes, her shiny dark hair tied back with an equally American-coloured ribbon (just in case you missed the symbolism of the dress). She looked like she was about 18 years old, fresh and delicate as a daisy, hot and juicy as apple pie. Waiting to be plucked, deflowered, and devoured by a pair of wicked Mexican whores.

  Adele’s lips kissed Constance’s charming cheeks in greeting, lingered, her grasping hands tightly squeezing the girl’s buff shoulders. I could see how excited the woman already was – I’d seen that lustful look in her office the previous day, felt her throbbing want all through my own body at her touch. Even the two made-up chicas were mightily impressed by Constance in person, the pair licking their tarted lips, eager to get to “work”.

  The sleazy motel room surged with sexual energy. I could feel it with my body pressed to the wall, my shimmering tits flattened against the plasterboard, stiffened nipples almost drilling two new holes, pussy panting a wet spot like my mouth now.

  Adele called “Action!” and the two sluts shoved sugar-pie Constance back and forth between them, pulled on her hair, slapped and spat in her face, tore her ribbon and her dress away. They sandwiched the stricken, semi-nude girl in between their own large, bared breasts and pantied pussies, and roughly fondled her, squeezing her full, ivory breasts, rolling and pulling on her rosy nipples, her snow-white skin a stunning contrast to their tawny hides.

  Adele danced between the two Klieg lights, snapping away with her camera, as electrified as I was by the action, yearning to join the fray. The women broke out the Mexican bullwhips and lashed Constance’s breasts, arms, and legs, bent her over the foot of the bed and slashed at her sheer-pantied bottom, spanked her heated, humped buttocks with their blazing bare hands. The camera caught the hot red stripes and white handprints searing into Constance’s bum mounds, as excitedly as Adele and I did.

  The two women affixed black leather masks to their eyes and jerked crying Constance up and spun her around, stuffed a red rubber ball into her smeared mouth. Their own breasts shuddered and jumped as one smacked Constance’s tits with a flat paddle, the other paddling her bum in behind.

  Poor, lucky Constance, her cheeks shining with tears, thrust her defiant breasts out in front and stuck her impudent butt out in back; the naïve, virginal, all-American girl now getting into this foreign depravity, turned on to the tourist dark side of sexuality by her two kinky guides. Her gleaming eyes reflected the discovered ecstasy of illicit sex as the women spanked her, slapped her, bit into her gloriously edible tits and ass. Hot, wet cracks of inflamed flesh were echoed by wet, hot cries of pain-pleasure.

  Everyone was flushed and perspiring with full-blown realism; by the time Adele finally snapped up a shaking hand and shrieked, ‘Cut!’ The ribald action halted, she gestured at the two women who’d been dishing out the perversion so well. ‘You girls take a break. Constance and I have to rehearse the bed scene. Be back in half an hour.’

  The two wound-up women looked at each other and shrugged disappointedly. Then they took off their masks and shawled themselves back in their Tijuana streetwear and departed the oestrogen-soaked motel room.

  This is going to be as easy as muff pie, I thought to myself, tearing my eye off gasping Constance to gander the raw longing portrayed on Adele’s face, exuding from her quivering body language.

  The smutress set her camera down on the tan carpet and touched one of Constance’s bare arms with trembling fingers. ‘In the next scene,’ she rasped, ‘the girls will tie you to the bed, spread-eagled, and then –’

  ‘Are we going to use this?’ Constance interrupted, bending down and pulling a new toy out of Adele’s trunk.

  It was a black leather strap-on harness, with a foot-long pink dildo attachment mounted up front. Constance coyly rubbed the dildo over her reddened breasts, tracing her jutting nipples with the curved tip. Adele and I both blew a gasket in our hotboxes.

  ‘Y-yes!’ Adele yelped. ‘Mary will put it on and pretend to have sex with you, while Karen sits on your face.’

  The woman sure knew her naughty business, I gave her that much. Constance offered her more, in exchange for some information about the other side of the Bolshevik’s nasty business – and the threat to our nation she presented.

  The beauteous brunette/redhead sensuously stepped right into the harness and affixed the leather straps to her curvaceous hips and buttocks. Then she sexily secured the dildo platform and attached pleasure tool tight to her pussy as she cinched up the straps. ‘I’ve never worn one of these before,’ she cooed. ‘I wonder what it feels like getting fucked by one?’

  A purely filthy question out of a purely lovely mouth. Constance bounced up and down in the wicked rig, making her breasts jounce deliciously and the dildo wag rakishly. She smiled like it was all good clean fun, no matter how far she took it.

  Adele stumbled towards the seemingly guileless girl and grabbed hold of the dildo. ‘I-it feels wonderful,’ she stammered, staring desperately into Constance’s bright blue eyes. ‘Would you like to try it out – on me?’

  Constance bit her lip and wrinkled her nose. Then she reached out and gently
stroked Adele’s shoulder, undulating the pink dildo back and forth in the woman’s hand. I could hear the plastic phallus squeak against the smut-dame’s damp palm, Adele’s sharp eyes and nose flaring with undisguised wanton desire.

  ‘Adele,’ Constance murmured confidentially, ‘I was, um, just wondering who you work for? I mean, who you report to? You know, outside of the dirty book business.’

  ‘R-report to?’ Adele stepped even closer, breathing up into Constance’s face, bending the dildo down slightly so that the tip touched her pussy. She grunted.

  ‘Yes,’ Constance went on, soothingly, sexily. ‘You know, who –’

  The unscripted seduction scene was just too intense for the horny camerawoman. Method acting inspiring method madness. Before Constance could even complete her line of enquiry, Adele clutched the girl’s bare shoulders and shot up onto her toes, mashed her open mouth against Constance’s open mouth. Their wet lips jammed together, their arms coiling around one another.

  I wanted to pound the wall with my bare clit; to stop or encourage the passion, I wasn’t sure. Adele was sure, though, very carnally sure. She consumed Constance’s pincushion lips, moving her mouth hungrily against the girl’s mouth. She dove her hands down off Constance’s shoulders and onto the girl’s breasts.

  Adele clutched up and squeezed Constance’s hot, heavy mounds, thumping her pussy bunny-like against that Constance dildo stretched up along and pressing into her slit. Constance, my sweet Constance, had no option but to hold on, her butt cheeks rippling as she pumped the dildo against Adele.

  I was flat to the wall like a squashed bug, eye bulging through the round hole. I so wanted to strip off my clothes and bare-hand my breasts and finger-drill my pussy; but that meant pulling back from the peephole for precious lost seconds of sex scouting I’d never get back, and there was no way I was going to do that. So, I watched, wanting as badly as lucky Adele on the other side.