And she pitched forward in a dead faint on the fake mane of the steed.
"Get a bucket of cold water," Magda ordered Theo. "Wake her up. Her fun is just beginning."
* * *
Indeed, they kept Jackie on the horse all day, forcing her to have twenty-five vaginal orgasms, several of them multiple—before they turned her around and forced the sodden pommel up her rectum. Here she had eight more, begging now.
"Oh, stop! Please, God, stop, before you drive me completely out of my mind!"
But when she sensed the horse's movements beginning to slow down, she begged twice as fervently.
"Oh, please, please! Don't stop the horse! Just one more time! I've got to come just one more time!"
But, finally, after nearly sixteen hours on M'sieu LeCoq, exhaustion overcame her and she fell sound asleep, still astride the wooden pony with its huge, sodden phallus deep in her swollen pussy.
Her cum coursed in little rivulets down its flanks and dripped off its belly to form a pool on the floor beneath it.
"Shall I take her back to her cell now, Miz Magda?" Theo asked then.
"No, leave her there," Magda smiled her cruel smile. "She'll probably wake up with that cock still inside her. That'll remind her of what fun she had today. She might even come again just for old times' sake."
And they doused the lights and left Jackie for another day.
* * *
As predicted, Jackie did awake, still blindfolded and bound to the horse. For a moment, she was totally and terrifyingly disordered in time and space, but then her pussy twitched involuntarily against her wooden tormentor and every moment of her day came back to her.
It had been such a day of delirious highs and unfathomable lows, swinging without warning from one to the other, from emotional and physical zeniths to nadirs, that she didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
So she did both, alternately chortling maniacally and blubbering inconsolably…her emotions now as inchoate as her senses.
And this, of course, was exactly what Magda had planned for her.
Chapter Ten
"Good, good," Magda chuckled in the morning as they entered the Studio to find the disoriented girl mewling and giggling irrationally. "We've pretty well finished taking her apart now. Only one more big step to Phase One before we can begin Phase Two. All right, Theo, take her down off that horse she's messed so terribly and make her kneel before me on all fours."
Somehow, Jackie was able follow Theo's quiet and simple instructions and kneel, still blindfolded, on the floor. Then she smelled Magda's strong perfume and felt her gloved hands slip something around her neck.
"You will wear this leather collar for the rest of your stay here," Magda said. "It will remind you that you are an animal…always an animal, no more than that. You understand?"
"Y…yes." Jackie mumbled.
"Then tell me."
"The…the collar will remind me I'm an…an animal."
"Only an animal."
"Only an animal."
"Nothing more."
"N…nothing more. You mean, like Cleo?" Jackie hazarded a guess.
"No, lower than Cleo, who at least, serves some purpose. You serve none. So, in addition, you will, for the most part, be a blind animal. For you will continue to wear that hood…except for certain brief occasions when I will decide it is important for you to see."
"B…but how will I find my way?" Jackie mewled.
"As blind animals do. By being led…and by their noses and their sense of touch. For instance, I want you to find me."
"Th…that's easy," Jackie sighed in relief. "Your perfume."
"A particular part of me," Magda said.
"What…part?" Jackie asked hesitantly.
"My pussy. Find my pussy by its smell, Animal. Find it and I will reward you. Fail and I will beat you with that flat strap. You remember it? The one that stings for hours afterwards? You have one minute, then, to find my pussy. One minute…starting now!"
And Theo gave her a slap on the behind to start her in the right direction.
Jackie inched hesitantly forward. The perfume aroma of Magda was stronger from directly in front of her so it stood to reason…yes!
Her hand came against the front of the dais on which Magda's throne stood. She was probably sitting there.
"Thirty seconds."
The voice was to the left of the platform. She was wrong,
God, she had to find Magda or that whip…
Jackie threw her head up and back and sniffed the air.
And a faint smell of musty urine reached her nostrils, urine and the nauseating stink of stale cum.
She scuttled quickly forward, skinning her knees on the cement floor.
And then her cheek grazed the top of what was unmistakably Magda's leather boot.
Slowly Jackie climbed Magda's leg, finding it naked to the waist and sniffed at the furze of rough hair that nestled in the V where Magda's two legs met.
"Congratulations," Magda said emotionlessly. "You've earned your reward."
"What…what is it?" Jackie stammered.
"Breakfast," Magda chuckled. "You get to eat my cunt."
"What?!" Jackie gagged.
"You heard me!" Magda barked. "Eat my, cunt, bitch! And make me cum, or I'll make goddam sure that Theo whips the ass off you!"
Bending her knees a little, Magda trapped Jackie's head between her thighs, forcing Jackie's mouth against her already dripping labia.
"Now, bitch, you have exactly two minutes to make me goddam come!" she panted in her need.
Then Magda sagged to her knees and bent backwards, exposing her pussy to Jackie's searching mouth. Hesitantly, Jackie's tongue flicked out, its tip toying with the tiny, blubbery folds of flesh in Magda's groin. The matted hair in Magda's crotch smelled rancid and her labia tasted worse, but the thought of that whip made Jackie swallow her bile and keep on, tantalizing the older woman with her tongue.
And then Magda snarled,
"Don't toy with my snatch, you bitch! Eat it with your whole mouth! Tongue, lips, teeth and everything!"
Then she must have made some hand signal to Theo for, without warning, the horrible strop came smacking down on Jackie's bare bottom.
"Ahhhhhhnnnnnn!" Jackie moaned and pressed her head deeper into Magda's groin, teeth gnawing at the dominatrix's labia, tongue probing in and out of her pussy like a piston, lips sucking at the pre-cum that flowed freely from Magda's vagina.
And, finally, Magda came in a violent orgasm, locking Jackie's head between her thighs as the spasms jerked her body so violently that Jackie feared her neck would be broken.
Then it was over at last and Magda lay panting on the floor, Jackie's head still between her thighs, her mouth and chin coated with Magda's foul cum.
"How long did it take her, Theo?" Magda asked.
"Five minutes, Miz Magda," Theo's voice answered.
"Three minutes over the limit," Magda's voice sneered. "I thought so. String her up."
Jackie felt her wrists being grabbed by Theo's rough hands as she was hauled to her knees and led across the room by the collar on her neck. Then her hands were slipped into two leather manacles and she felt herself being raised until she was hanging by her wrists, arms feeling as if they were about to be torn from their sockets, with only her toes grazing the floor.
"What did I promise you, bitch, if you failed to bring me off within two minutes?" Magda asked.
"The…the strop."
"Did I say two strokes for each minute overdue?"
"N…no."
"Well, that is what it will be. Six strokes in all. You do it, Theo. I feel too relaxed right now."
Jackie had felt the strap before, so she thought she was prepared for it.
But there are some things one never gets inured to…and this degree of pain was one of them.
"Ahhhhhnnnnggghhh, God!" she grunted aloud as the first blow struck her buttock and, by the time the sixth came—for the first time lashing a
cross her tender breasts—she was screaming multo forte, in the mindless agony of one verging on madness. Gone, gone, was all sensation but that awful pain; gone was all ability to think about anything but the agony of her burning flesh.
"Theo is stronger than I am, right, bitch?" Magda's strident voice cut through the fog of her agony. "I understand his beatings are quite special? Wouldn't you agree?"
Jackie felt Magda's gloved hand graze her tender breast as she took up the slack in the gold chain that still hung, almost forgotten, between Jackie's nipples. She gave it a tug, straining the recently whipped, red aureoles.
"I said, 'Don't you agree?'" she repeated.
Jackie nodded, knowing she'd weep if she tried to talk.
"Good. We'll have him beat you regularly, then. Maybe tonight. For now, however, I am tired. Take her back to her cell, Theo. On all fours, of course, like the animal she is. In fact, to assure ourselves that she does not try to stand or walk when we're not watching her, hobble the girl."
"Yes, Miz Magda," Theo answered.
Then Jackie felt his rough hands tying some sort of padding around her knees, after which he took both her ankles and bound them up to her thighs, forcing her to kneel on the padded points of her kneecaps with her soles pointing upwards when she was on all fours.
"Good. Now, take her to her cell," Magda said.
That journey seemed interminable as Jackie crawled along with Theo's fingers grasping her firmly under her collar and guiding her along. Going down the stairs to her cell in the blindfold, with her head below her buttocks, was particularly difficult and unpleasant. Twice her hand missed the edge of a stair and she slid down a stone step or two, scraping her already tender breasts and belly.
Finally, however, Theo grunted,
"Here we are."
She heard the metal door of her cell bang open.
Immediately, her nostrils were filled with the aroma of fried chicken and her stomach tightened in anticipation.
"Yes," Theo said, noting her sudden physical alertness, "there is food in here. If you can find it and…if you can manage to eat it."
He took her wrists then, and bound them tightly behind her back, so that she could not use her hands either to find or eat the food she knew was there.
Driven almost frantic by her hunger, however, Jackie scrambled around on the floor, almost tearing the padding off her knees and scraping her breasts brutally on the stone floor until her head hit the side of what could only be her wooden bed. Here the smell of the chicken was strongest and she slowly managed to raise her head and shoulders and flop over the edge of the pallet. Here, she sniffed around until her lips found what was unmistakeably a chicken leg lying on the bare wood. And she picked it up in her teeth and chewed on it voraciously, like a starving mongrel, spitting out the shards of bone.
Then she managed to locate another leg close to where the first one had been and demolished that.
And after that, there was no more food to be had. And Jackie's stomach was still aching with a terrible, gnawing hunger.
"Sorry," Theo's voice startled her, for she had forgotten he was there in her frightful need to eat. "Mustn't make you fat!"
She heard his mocking laugh as his boots crossed the floor and the metal door clanged shut behind him.
Too exhausted to even attempt to crawl into her so-called bed, Jackie rolled sideways and lay on the floor.
And she prayed she would not hear that door open again…perhaps ever.
* * *
Perhaps that was the Time Out of All Time—she didn't know whether it was day or night or how long she had been in this awful place—that Jackie was awakened from a fitful sleep and dragged blindfolded to somewhere—it could have been the room with the dais— and thrown down on the floor.
She had been whipped so often within memory, and refused food and rest that she was quaking with exhaustion, residual pain, and hunger and she jumped when Magda's voice said,
"You may remove her hood, Theo. I want to see her eyes as she talks to me."
As the black hood came off Jackie's head, she blinked painfully into the harsh light that framed Magda's white-blonde hair in a kind of diabolically ironic halo around her head, casting her face into shadow, while Jackie sat, her naked, whip-scarred flesh exposed to its harsh glare.
"What is your name?" Magda asked suddenly.
"Jac…Jacqueline…" Jackie stammered.
"Wrong!" Magda snapped. "Try again."
"Jacynthe?" Jackie tried.
"Not yet. Perhaps, never. One last try. Who are you?"
"I am…Nobody," Jackie wept.
"At last! Why are you here?"
The question came so fast Jackie didn't recognize it as a new question at first.
"I asked 'Why are you here?'" Magda snapped again.
"Because…because Conor brought me here," Jackie gave the only answer she could think of at the moment.
"Why? Why did he bring you here?"
"To discover if I was his Jacynthe."
"And that's my job, right?" Magda nodded.
"Y..yes."
"Do you love Conor?"
"Oh, yes!" Jackie said earnestly. "With all my heart!"
"And he loves you?"
"Of course he does."
"That's why he sent you here?"
"Yes. Of course."
"Do you think he knows what I am doing to you here?"
"I suppose he does," Jackie allowed.
"And yet he allows the woman he loves to be whipped and raped and brutalized repeatedly?"
"I suppose that is necessary…or Conor wouldn't put me through it…" Jackie answered, though her voice carried less conviction.
"It seems a strange way to show love—to have the object of your desires viciously abused by others," Magda ruminated. "Some might say it didn't make sense."
"If…if I am to become a Jacynthe, his Jacynthe, I guess…I guess I must learn to…tolerate a lot of things that don't make sense," Jackie said hesitantly.
"But Conor loves you?"
"Yes…oh, yes!"
"You mean you hope he loves you…" Magda prodded.
"I…I guess that's what I mean…"
"But you are beginning to doubt it, aren't you?" Magda's words jabbed at her, opening wounds that were deeper than the whip marks, prodded deeper than any phallus could probe.
"I…have to wonder somedays…" Jackie reluctantly agreed.
"Does Conor really love you, Nobody?" Magda was almost shouting at her now. "Why should Conor love a Nobody? Why should he want to turn you into a Nobody? Can anyone love a Nobody? Look at yourself, you little fool! How could a man like Conor, who has everything, want a Nothing? Why should a man who could have any woman he wants, want you?"
"I don't know! I don't know!" Jackie blubbered. "I don't seem to know anything anymore!"
"That's all, for now," Magda curtly ended the interview. "Put her hood back on and take her back to her cell, Theo."
And Magda smiled crookedly as her orders were fulfilled.
And that was to be only the first of many such sessions that would end with Jackie crying,
"I don't know! I don't know! I don't know anything, goddamit!"
And Magda sneering in triumph at the progress they were making.
Chapter Eleven
Jacynthe had never felt more alive than she did tonight.
A thick ground fog was just beginning to rise out of the stagnant pools of the marsh as she padded along through the shallow water that would hopefully leave little spoor for the Hunters' dogs to follow. She was always at her best, she felt, when she was being hunted. Alert to every little sound, every rustle in the swamp grass that could mean pursuit. In fact, the only moment that was any better was when she suddenly reversed the roles of pursuer and pursued.
Now that was a glorious moment! When she saw the brief light of victory suddenly become the tremulous glimmer of defeat. When bravado became sheer terror. Nothing was better than that!
And
tonight, she sensed that moment would be soon.
Swamp gas now began to flicker green and sickly blue within the mist, creating distractions for her pursuers. How often they had been fooled into firing their rifles at those chimeras. She chuckled deep in her throat so that it came out as more a rumbling growl. It was almost a shame that today's hunters were a bunch of amateurs. Rather took the fun out of the chase.
Now, when Targus Stoddard had been alive…
Now there was a hunter!
And a damned good lay, to boot.
Jacynthe permitted herself a few moments of nostalgia…
* * *
She first saw Targus as he hunted one night in the swamp which she had lately called home. She had admired how quietly he moved through the water—almost as silently as she—and the way he never chose to set a foot on dry land where his spoor might be detected. There was, in fact, something almost animalistic in his reading of the night wind, his nose seeming to pick up scents of a kill almost before hers did.
But she had never seen him in a human context until that night when she caught sight of his handsome face across the Sportsmen's Lounge of the Hotel Central in Carleigh Falls. In that light she could see that he was even better built than she had thought, certainly better than most hunters, for, where they tended to be slack-jawed, round-faced, beer-bellied types, Targus was broad-shouldered, though tall and spare of build, and square-jawed. Moreover, his dark eyes held a gleam that reminded Jacynthe of someone in her past, though she could not at the moment remember whom.
Then Targus looked up and their eyes met. And a simple raising of his eyebrow was enough to say,
Nightwalkers Page 7
