* * * *
At this point in the narrative Mrs. Neptune succumbed to the temptations of Sappho. As her tongue was half way down the tour guide Clara's throat, I must pick up the slack.
My stoned and inebriated cargo hoisted themselves into the bus with the air of Texans about to grab a few minutes shuteye. Jay and friend clambered onto the front seat beside me and started snogging. Disgusting, I call it. They didn't invite me. Just wait though, Harry will have his moment...
"Put the bus back where you found it, Harry, me old mate! Oi'll take the survivors on to the delights of Nelson's Dockyard and a bit of fresh air."
"Enjoy yourself, Hardy! Pop in for a swift half on the way back."
"Oi might well do that, Harry old lad, oi might well indeed. Give me regards to Henryk!"
That latter request, as Kismet Hardy well knew, would be difficult to accommodate. If there ever was a Henryk he was long gone, and Henryk's was now owned by a Cabinet Minister, a senior police officer, and a democratic sprinkling of ladies of ill repute, waiters, and cooks.
As I started the engine the passenger door slid back. Mrs. Gigi Goldfinkel and toy boys clambered aboard, shoving a couple of Texans to the rear to make room for themselves.
"Press on, you naughty boy! Gigi's had a cocktail and she'll want a tinkle when we get there!"
One toy boy picked her up and plonked her on his lap, so I guess we all know how they were going to while away the journey. I was starting to feel quite left out.
I bade Rasta farewell and he trotted off up to the road to find his next lift. No doubt a new tale about loony honkies would be born tonight in the rum shops of Old Road. As I drove off I saw he had commandeered Gigi's scooter and was flying up the road with dreadlocks streaming in the wind.
The last time I was in Henryk's was for a wake. An Irishman had perpetuated the legend by drinking himself to death in the record time of eleven years on the island (most go much quicker). There was much crying, much drinking, and much giving of solace. Or so I am told.
I headed back past Jolly Harbour, Bolan's Village and Jennings until I came to the road to Five Islands and carried on instead of turning into town. My head was clearing with the breeze and I felt ready for the next challenge.
"Oh, Clara!"
"Oh, Jay!"
OJ? Oh, I see. Jay had Clara pressed up against me and was vigorously doing something under the guide's sarong. I had a surreptitious feel of her thigh and no one complained. There was a stirring in the trouser department. I pressed on the loud pedal and reached across for a fondle of an orange bikini'd breast.
In a jiffy we juddered to a halt in front of the big low building known to all and sundry as Henryk's.
"Missah Neptun'! Missah Neptun"! You got plenty stamina today?"
A double vision in double bounty stood guard at the wide front door. I never could work out which Boobsy Twin was which, but I had had a lot of fun trying. They wore short dresses with the deepest of deep octoroon cleavage, the better to air their magnificent assets.
"Darling girls!"
I leapt out of the driver's seat and into their arms. Jay and Clara were still at it, now sprawled across my newly vacated seat. I made up for their lack of attention by kissing first one Boobsy then the other, then all four Boobsy boobs.
"Gigi's coming!"
"I bet she is ... Girls, meet Mrs. Goldfinkel, Toy Boy One, and Toy Boy Two. Call them Humpty and Dumpty for short. Where's dinner? I'm starving. Must be something I smo ... drank."
"Weed! Weed! Little weed!"
Miss Lawrence and Clara had decided to rejoin the world, and the former was regaling me with a ditty from an ancient children's television program. No doubt she thought it was appropriate.
A Boobsy unzipped my shorts and slipped a hand inside.
"Lunch, Harry! Got to keep yo' strength up to keep Harry up!"
"Indeed, my dear. I phoned ahead for the famous buffet. You might send some of the boys out to waken the rest of our passengers. They seem to have been overcome by the heat or something. I'm sure some lobster and jerk goat will bring them back to life. They're from Texas you know – everything is very big in Texas."
"Not as big as this thing, Harry! You been exercising!"
I smiled, as might any man with a beautiful hand caressing his pride and joy while affording a view of the most delightful chasm north of Dominica.
The other Boobsy took my hand and we led the crocodile of lust indoors.
Me and Boobsy's in the van, Jay and Clara holding hands behind, then Gigi in a chair of the toy boys" arms, and finally a straggling procession of Texans supported by Henryk's grinning bouncers.
* * * *
"Who's for a nice game of Charades?"
I reluctantly disengaged myself from my sultry South American compadre and stared at the large man in the loud shirt. He looked vaguely familiar. Oh yes. My husband. He had a half-naked busty black beauty under each armpit and a serious swelling in his shorts. I swiftly adopted my supportive wifely role of chief heckler and straight sidekick.
"Have you gone completely nuts, Neptune? This is a brothel not a holiday camp!"
Harry pretended to ignore me and the Black Widow uttered a piercing shriek of delight.
"Oh! Oh! I do love party games! Don't you dare start until I'm back from my tinkle!"
The vision in bubble gum pink shorts and matching sparkly T-shirt disappeared through a door marked "Sluts." I couldn't see the gentlemen's washroom and wondered what the sign on that door read. For a sex-themed restaurant and club, it was certainly to-the-point. Meanwhile, my spouse had procured a large cloth bag labeled "TOYS" and was rummaging feverishly. The buxom brown brace began to giggle as Harry stood up, brandishing a large strap-on dildo in one hand and a set of handcuffs in the other. Things were looking up.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Bambi and Botti Boobsy, the dynamic, nay, pneumatic, duo who have single-handedly reinvented the humble party game as we know it. What shall it be, girls? Postman's Knockers? Hunt the Fondle?"
The girls conferred briefly and I took in their outfits. They both wore bottom-skimming skintight mini-dresses with lace-up bodices. Bambi's dress was metallic blue, Botti's a similarly shiny bright pink. Six-inch stiletto pumps completed the look, although both girls were already anything but short in stature. In their heels, they stood as tall as Harry and he is well over six feet. Idly, I wondered how Botti got her name and how long it would take their monumental breasts to escape from the straining lacing of their tightly stretched bodices. Finally, Bambi whispered in Harry's ear and he grinned and patted her bottom.
"An excellent choice, my dear. OK, pardners, it looks as if we are going to have a spot of Hide & Seek before we partake of Henryk's delicious buffet lunch. Who's going to be It?"
"We should draw straws, Harry, sweetie. That's only fair. Oh, I do hope it's me!"
Mrs. Goldfinkel had re-emerged from the ladies" powder room. She rushed over to the partially laid buffet table and swiftly plucked a large handful of brightly colored plastic straws from the drinks section. Executing a rapid head count, she carefully selected the required number of straws and slipped them into an empty beer jug.
"Now then! Everyone closes their eyes when they take a straw from the jug, then stirs up the pot for the next person. Most of the straws are pink but there's one blue one in there. The person who takes the blue straw is It. Oh! Oh! I can barely stand the excitement!"
Obediently, we formed a straggling ring and passed the jug. It wasn't long before one of the Texans, a rather overweight chap named Chad, drew the blue straw and the game began. Bambi Boobsy found a sequined blindfold and a set of Mickey Mouse headphones in the toy bag and Chad was divested of two of his senses. I turned to Clara, who had slipped a friendly arm about my waist.
"This looks more like Blind Man's Buff than Hide & Seek."
My Latin lover smiled knowingly.
"Watch!"
Botti Boobsy added a pair of large furry mittens to Chad
's regalia. They looked as if they'd been made up from an old fake-fur coat. A mental image was beginning to emerge and I recalled some of the more interesting "party games" we used to play at the Pink Pussy Lounge.
Suddenly the lights went out and we were plunged into a surprisingly dense darkness. Although it was daytime and dazzlingly bright outside, the windows were completely obliterated by heavy blinds. Harry's voice emanated from somewhere behind me.
"Righty-ho playmates, time to scatter and find yourself a nook or cranny. Chad will stay put and loudly count up to sixty before commencing the hunt. The kitchen's out of bounds as the cook is Greek and somewhat temperamental. Off you go!"
There was a general scuffling, liberally punctuated with inebriated Texan mumbling and the excitable high-pitched squeals of the Black Widow. A smooth, cool hand grabbed mine and pulled me in one direction. I bumped into several well-padded torsos as dark figures stumbled hither and thither in the gloom. The clutching hand artfully maneuvered me through a heavy door and down a pitch-black staircase. It seemed to be Clara but I wasn't certain. Her hands had given out a lot more heat. Whoever it was seemed to be female at any rate. Suddenly, we reached another door and my shadowy captor pushed it open and pushed me inside. This room was dimly lit by a lurid red lamp, and I immediately recognized it as the brothel's dungeon. The couple on the low, darkly draped bed were familiar too. I gasped as Frippery Boner-Drippit glared up at me from her satin-sheeted vantage point. She was dressed in a black latex jumpsuit and wielded a rather vicious looking riding crop. Will lay prone on the bed, trussed up like the proverbial Thanksgiving turkey, a scarlet ball gag filling his mouth like an apple in the mouth of a roasted pig. He wore a short, floaty chiffon baby doll nightdress with matching panties. The cool hand thrust me further into the room and I turned to see Botti Boobsy smiling down at me.
"Maitre Neptoon want you here. He say this where you belong."
I looked from Botti to the Boners then back to Botti. Frippery remained silent, a rather unpleasant glint in her eye. Will writhed and grunted on the slippery sheets. I prepared myself for a hasty retreat but the big Boobsy blocked the door.
"Look, Botti – why do you call yourself Botti, by the way?"
"Is short for Botticelli."
"Oh, of course, silly me. Look, Miss Botticelli, normally I live for a good flogging but, as you can see, the rack's already taken and..."
A pair of enormous brown breasts descended upon my face and the cool, now surprisingly strong hands grasped my bottom. What was more, a long, thick phallus protruded from beneath the hem of the skintight mini-dress. With a surge of excitement, I realized that Botti Boobsy was wearing a large strap-on dildo.
"Ah got everyting you ever dreamed of, honey!"
She might have had a point there and I made an impromptu decision to let her impress it upon me. Finally, Frippery erupted, a lavish mushroom cloud of spittle liberally spritzing the little basement room.
"I booked thith dungeon for the day! Take that, that whore away! I'm not sharing thith spathe."
Botti Boobsy released me and, rather menacingly, drew herself up to her full stiletto-augmented height. Flexing a pair of well-defined biceps she strode over to the Boners and picked up one in each hand, as effortlessly as if they were a pair of soft toys. I helpfully opened the dungeon door and she promptly threw them out into the dark of the stairway.
"Now, baby, you gonna give me your sweet little ass."
My excitement melted and my stomach turned over. I realized why they called that Boobsy Botti.
* * * *
Chad was a-whoopin' and a-hollerin' as he stampeded blindly round the room. He may have born and raised in Ditchwater, Texas, but he was doing the Lone Star state proud.
"Ooh, who's that! Naughty boy!"
Gigi Goldfinkel's shriek overlaid the merriment at regular intervals. I had a feeling she was doing some Seeking of her own, toy boys or no toy boys. I also had a feeling the toy boys might have been more interested in the bouncers than the pink beclad yelping Mrs. G. Henryk caters for all tastes.
I had taken the precaution of establishing my bearings before the lights went out. There were a few parties in the room I would not have minded being caught by, but Chad was not one of them. I had done my duty in setting up the entertainment. It was time to head for the bar and a preview of the buffet.
"Viens ici!"
A hand grabbed mine and I felt myself dragged with considerable force across the floor, considering the voice spouting Dominican patois was undoubtedly female. Plan A, the bar and early buffet raid, went by the board. Harry Neptune is nothing if not flexible. And curious.
I heard a door close behind us then nearly stumbled as we descended a short flight of stairs. I stumbled again at the bottom of the stairs over what appeared to be two inarticulately moaning bodies, than a door opened and I emerged into dim red light. The door slammed behind me.
Plan B was revealed. My still-new bride was tied by the wrists to the brass head of a large and luxurious looking bed. She was naked from the waist down and her legs were wrapped around Botti Boobsy. Botti was also naked from the waist down, on account of her tight pink dress had ridden up over her hips. A black leather strap was visible round her waist. Her hips were pounding up and down and she made a grunt like an East European tennis player with each frenzied thrust.
All the clues were there. Neptune made the deduction and took appropriate action.
"Stop fucking my wife!"
I stepped forward and landed a stinging slap on Botti's gyrating rear end.
The next thing I knew I was whirled round by a taloned hand gripping my shoulder and a fist thumped furiously into my stomach. I gasped for breath and heard a voice through a mist of pain.
"Don't you hit my sistah!"
Bambi glared incensed at me and drew her fist back to land another blow, this time on my head. I grabbed her wrist before the blow could land and twisted her arm behind her back. Her knee rose viciously toward my crotch but I was ready for her and deflected the testicle-cruncher with my thigh. It still hurt. I put an arm round her waist and lifted her off the ground.
I staggered across the floor with my burden of the big black girl. I shoved her against the wall and leaned heavily on her to regain my breath. The Neptune midriff is fairly well padded, but the Boobsy fist had been applied with strength and precision. Her spare hand beat at my back. Abruptly she lunged to rip my throat out with her teeth.
That was it. I suddenly released her and stepped back, then before she could take advantage of her freedom I launched a roundhouse open-handed smack to her cheek. Before she could react I matched it with one on the other cheek, then two more. She sank to her knees looking dazed.
I turned to the bed where Botti if anything was humping even harder, sweat flecking her buttocks and her hands flexing under Jay's top. Jay's wide eyes were fixed on me.
"Harry! Help!"
Before I got halfway to the bed a fury landed on my back and hurled me to the floor. Bambi's arm encircled my neck and squeezed while she dug a knee into the small of my back and scratched at my face. Then I felt her fingers entwine in my hair as the beginnings of blackness spread from my crushed carotid.
Botti grinned at me through the red haze. She reached back to grasp Jay's ankles and push them up toward her head. Botti drew her hips back and paused for a moment. She looked into my eyes and licked her lips.
"Harry!"
Botti thrust mightily between Jay's legs.
"Harry!!!"
Jay shrieked as the dildo penetrated her deepest place, Botti yelled in triumph, and Bambi howled as she redoubled the pressure on my windpipe.
With what I may modestly describe as a heroic effort I struggled to my knees and then my feet with the manic Bambi clinging to me and howling like a dervish. I twisted round and lurched backwards at increasing pace to the wall of the dungeon and some useful looking ceiling-height shackles.
I had reached a fair old clip in the three or four pac
es it took to reach the wall and was rewarded with a satisfying "Oof!" from Bambi as she took the brunt of my irresistible object meeting the immoveable architecture. The grip on my neck broke and she sank to the floor.
Not far though. I lifted and twisted her, and grabbed one wrist and a shackle.
"You bas...!"
Bambi regained her senses, but not in time. I caught hold of her other wrist and stretched her to tiptoe. Snap! She was pinioned with her face to the rough dungeon wall. I stepped smartly back to avoid a wildly swinging foot.
"Harry..."
The small voice from the bed was barely audible above the sound of twanging bedsprings and Bambi's snarls. I ignored it. There was work to be done.
I looked around for a suitable implement of retribution. There! Perfect – a sjamboek, the short handled whip beloved of cruel South African overseers. I took the whip from its hook and tested it with a sharp crack.
Bambi glared at me over her shoulder. I gripped the neck of her shiny blue dress and ripped it in half. Her magnificent back and buttocks were sheened in sweat.
"Harry! No!"
Bambi's eyes had fear in them now. I drew back the whip and lashed it across her shoulders. Bambi cried out in pain, then again and again as I whipped her back. Weals appeared and almost merged. She twisted and turned but the shackles held firm.
Her head began to fall and I shifted my aim. The rawhide bit into her muscular behind and thighs. She arched her back and her lips drew back from her gleaming teeth. I rained down blow after blow, concentrating now on the tender tops of her thighs.
At first Bambi cried out with each blow, but now she whimpered with eyes tight closed. I stopped for a few seconds, considering the raw stripes on her sweat-slicked skin. She trembled and her knees sagged.
MASTER AND BABY : A Tale of Erotic Submission Page 32
