A Bestiary of Unnatural Women Page 2

  Roy waited for the hammer to fall. She wasn't offering herself to them without a plan.

  Her plan was revealed when she unbuttoned, unzipped, and then dropped her miniskirt to her ankles. As Roy had noted, her stockings were supported by a black garter belt. But he had not guessed what she would be wearing in place of panties. He laughed. Felicity was no fool.

  “Is that metal panties?” Timothy's voice sounded confused.

  “It's a chastity belt,” Roy replied. “Nobody gets into the lady until she unlocks it.”

  “Who's got the key?” Stan's calm demeanor had taken a sudden turn to the nasty.

  “She's got it herself,” Roy replied. “Contrary to popular myth, medieval ladies were not locked up by their husbands against their will for long periods of time. They locked themselves into the belts during dangerous moments to keep from being raped. They were free to unlock themselves any time they wanted to make love. She's using her chastity belt exactly as intended – to protect herself from violent rape.”

  Felicity smiled. “To make this perfectly clear. If there's only one man in the apartment at seven o'clock, then I'll give him the key and he can unlock my treasure.” She gestured to the small radial lock that was set into the front of the belt. “If you haven't made a decision by then, the belt stays on until everyone is gone and I can go to bed alone.”

  There was another minute of silence while the men thought about the implications of this latest development. Again, it was Stan who broke the spell. This time he addressed the half-naked woman directly. “What if you decide that you don't want any of us and welch on the deal? If only one of us is here at seven, there's nothing to stop you from keeping yourself locked up. Any time you've decided that you've had enough fun for tonight, you can slip away and leave us here with our dicks in our hands. In fact, that was probably your plan from the beginning.”

  “I gave you my word that one of you will have me. If you can decide which one, then that one will get the key.”

  “Like you said, yourself, words don't count as much as physics.”

  She smiled again. “Okay. I'll give you a little more physics to make my promise irrevocable. Come on, boys.” She walked through the arch into the living room. The men followed. Roy looked at the metal strip that passed between her buttocks. It would chafe if she tried to walk too far because it was wide enough to ensure that nobody used her back door without the key. The only orifice that was available was her mouth and that was guarded by her lovely white teeth. He did not doubt that she would Bobbit the man who tried to take her mouth against her will.

  In the living room, Felicity walked to the mantel and picked up a light silver chain with a key attached. She draped it around her neck so that the key hung down between her breasts. Then she walked to the couch where there was a pile of chain and leather waiting.

  She buckled one wide leather cuff about each wrist, threading a metal loop through the straps near the buckle. She threaded the hasp of an open padlock through one end of the short chain. “If one of you gentlemen would be so kind as to lock the chain to my cuffs.”

  Stan took the lock and threaded the hasp through the two loops. When he snapped the lock closed, her wrists were locked into the cuffs in front of her and the cuffs were locked together at the end of the chain.

  She walked to the far corner of the room. “Now, if one of you would like to hook the last link of the chain to the ceiling.”

  Roy looked up and saw that there was a heavy hook screwed into the ceiling above her head. He would bet that a hanging plant was sitting in a spare room right now. Looking down, he saw a two-step stool next to the wall. She had thought of everything, but the stool was overkill. Timothy was tall enough to reach the ceiling without the stool. When he took the end of the chain, she obligingly raised her arms over her head so that he could reach up and snap the last link over the hook. When she was secured, her hands were held loosely together over her head, elbows bent slightly and breasts pulled upward in a most fetching way.

  She looked down at the key that was hanging between her breasts, rising and falling with every breath. With the chain and leather cuffs keeping her hands above her head, there was no way for her to reach it herself. It was almost cruel that she had made herself wear the means of her release where she could see and feel it but not reach it.

  Timothy took the opportunity to caress the perfect curves of her tits. Despite his eagerness to brawl with the other men, he touched the woman with surprising gentleness, giving the impression that he genuinely cared about her feelings. She closed her eyes and moaned softly at his touch, giving every man in the room the impression that she was looking forward to an evening of hot sex.

  Roy noted that the hook in the ceiling had a spring-loaded safety latch on it that prevented the chain from slipping back off unless the latch was held open. Felicity was not tall enough to reach the latch herself. It would be impossible for her to pull the chain off the hook. She was trapped until someone released her.

  Stan kicked the step-stool away just to be certain that she could not hook it with her foot and pull it closer.

  “The key to the padlock is on my necklace,” she said. “I trust that the winner will release me after I tell you where to find the key to the chastity belt.”

  There was no question that Roy would unlock her. She would be a lot more fun lying on her back or bent over a table than standing in the corner with her arms stretched over her head. The other two men had undoubtedly already reached exactly the same conclusion because they both nodded eagerly.

  “Okay, guys, let's get down to business,” Stan said. “How are we going to decide who spends the night with the maiden and who goes home frustrated as hell?”

  “Draw lots,” Roy said.

  “Nah,” Stan replied quickly. “I don't want to leave it up to pure chance.”

  “Me neither,” Timothy replied.

  Roy knew what they were thinking. Stan didn't like the one-in-three odds. He wanted a sure thing. Timothy wanted to lobby for some kind of physical game so that he would have the edge.

  “Then what?” Roy asked.

  Predictably, Timothy said, “Let's arm wrestle for her. That's what real men would do.”

  Roy and Stan replied, simultaneously, “No!”

  Timothy laughed. “Wimps.” He turned to the woman hanging in the corner. “You really want to spend the night with one of these chickenshits?”

  She smiled but said nothing. It was clear that she was a spectator now. She had finished her part in the game and intended to spend the next hour just watching the fun.

  Stan gestured toward the couch and easy chairs. “Let's sit down and discuss this in comfort.”

  The three men sat but none of them felt comfortable.

  “So how about a game of poker. Winner take all.” He gestured toward the half naked women. “She's All.”

  The three men looked at the beautiful siren, each feeling more lust than they had ever before felt in their entire lives. The woman was practically in their hands. In one of their hands.

  The object of their lust looked back at the men impassively, apparently content just to wait and see which one would claim her in the end. Roy had the impression that she had specifically chosen men who were equally attractive to her so that she would have no preference for one over the other.

  “I don't know how to play poker,” Timothy said, keeping his eyes on Felicity's lovely breasts.

  “Wimp,” Stan replied, turning back to look at the other men and laughing. “It's easy. We'll keep it simple. Five card draw. I can teach you in a couple of minutes.”

  Roy shook his head. “We have only about a half an hour left to decide. If we only play a couple of hands, winning will come down to luck. We'd be no better off than drawing lots. If we try to play a proper game, we won't be finished until ten at the earliest. I've got nothing against playing a game for her, but it'll have to be a game that doesn't take longer than half an hour.”

  “Ro
ck, paper, scissors?” Timothy suggested.

  “Same as drawing lots,” Stan replied. “Pure luck.”

  “I don't want to play games,” Timothy said. “Not gambling games. Maybe find a court somewhere and shoot hoops for her.”

  “No time for that, either,” Roy said.

  “I know,” Timothy replied, sadly.

  The men were silent for another couple of minutes. It was clear that they would never agree on a game of chance or skill because each of them would want a game in which they had an advantage.

  A clock on the mantle ticked loudly.

  Finally, Stan said, “Okay. Tell you what. I'll pay each of you three hundred dollars to get lost. Cash, right now. You can call her back and set up another date some other time and use the money to take her out for a first-rate dinner and a concert or whatever she wants. We can all have her eventually.”

  Timothy looked tempted. Roy glanced at the woman to see how she felt about being bought like a side of beef but she continued to look impassive. He looked at her more closely and thought that he detected dry amusement under her poker face. “I'd rather have the woman than the money,” he said. “I'll pay you.”

  “I don't need your money,” Stan replied, contemptuously. “How about you, tiger?” He asked Timothy. “You want a quick five hundred in cash, tax free, to walk out that door and not come back?”

  He licked his lips. Timothy would not be a good poker player. But he wasn't a complete sucker, either. It occurred to him that five hundred might not be Stan's final offer. “Not for five hundred.”

  Roy wondered if Stan would be willing to go as high as a thousand to reduce his odds from one in three to one in two. But Stan had a different idea. “I'll tell you what. It's not about the money. The money is just for a show of good faith. Let's just auction her off. Who ever bids highest gets her and the other two can split the money and then just split. Free enterprise is the American way.”

  Timothy grinned. “That sounds good to me.”

  “If it's really not about the money, then we shouldn't care who gets it. I say, if she's the one for sale, then she ought to get the money,” Roy replied. “That's true free enterprise.”

  That proposal cooled Timothy's jets considerably. “She's giving herself away for free. It's us who lose out, so we ought to be the ones to profit from our loss.”

  “How much cash do you have on you?” Roy asked.

  “I don't know, exactly. A hundred bucks, maybe,” Timothy answered.

  “How about you, Stan?”

  “More than that,” Stan admitted.

  “Are you going to take a personal check?” Roy asked.

  “I don't think so,” Stan replied. “Anyone can write a check for a million bucks and let it bounce like a rubber ball. The NSF fees would be worth it.”

  “So this auction'll come down to whoever has the most money in his pocket right now.”

  “That's not fair!” Timothy cried.

  “No, it sure isn't,” Roy answered.

  The three men sat silently for another couple of minutes. The clock ticked. Felicity shifted her weight restlessly from one foot to the other. Standing for a long time with her arms above her head in those high-heeled pumps couldn't be all that comfortable.

  Finally, Roy said, “Okay, this is like some kind of reality game, let's do what they do on television. Let's vote for the winner.”

  “Yeah,” Timothy said, enthusiastically. “This is a democracy. Let's vote.”

  “You have paper and pens?” Roy asked.

  “In the kitchen by the phone,” Felicity said from the corner of the room.

  Roy left the living room. “Hey,” he shouted from the kitchen, “I've got to use the can. I'll be back in a few minutes.” The other men waited impatiently, silently watching the mantle clock tick off the time from six thirty-two to six thirty-eight. There was about twenty minutes left when Roy finally returned with three pens and a small notepad. He tore off a sheet for each of the three men, handed them the pens and said, “Okay. It's simple. No voting for yourself. Just write down the name of one of the other two men who you think most deserves an evening of mutual pleasure with the lady in the corner. Let's try to imagine who she might want.”

  After a minute, Roy collected the ballots, unfolded them and spread them out on the coffee table. There was one vote for Timothy and two votes for Stan.

  “That's it, then,” Stan said, standing up. “It's been interesting. You guys can let yourself out. Be sure to lock the door behind you.”

  “Damn,” Timothy said with a tragic look on his face, standing up and starting to walk across the room.

  Roy stood up as well, but made no move toward the door. “Not so fast, Stan,” he said. “We have a problem, here.”

  Timothy stopped moving and turned to look at Stan and Roy.

  “No problem,” Stan replied. “We agreed to abide by the vote. We voted. I won. You leave.”

  “The rule was that we couldn't vote for ourselves. Otherwise everyone would vote for himself and it would have been a three-way split. I voted for Timothy. The only way that you could have got two votes is if you got both Timothy's and your own. You voted for yourself so the vote is invalid. It doesn't count.”

  “We all agreed to vote,” Stan argued, “But not voting for yourself was just something that you said. I never said that I agreed with it.”

  “I agreed with it,” Timothy said, moving toward Stan menacingly, “otherwise I would have voted for myself, too. He's right. The vote doesn't count.”

  “So there we are,” Stan said. “I guess we have to vote again.”

  The next vote was one for each of them. Roy had voted for Timothy, Stan had voted for Roy, and Timothy had voted for Stan. Roy was shocked He fully expected that, after Stan had cheated the first time, Timothy wouldn't vote for him on principle. And Roy had already said that he preferred Timothy. That meant that Timothy and Roy should have exchanged votes and Stan provided the majority for one or the other of them. Apparently Timothy had figured that out and decided that Roy did not need his vote, he preferred a standoff to losing if Stan voted for Roy, which he had.

  The men stared at the ballots for a long time, as though they could change the outcome just by wishing it. Felicity laughed softly from the corner of the room.

  “We could vote again,” Timothy suggested.

  “Are you going to change your vote?” Roy asked.

  “No.”

  “Me neither. It'll be a tie vote every time, now.”

  Stan laughed loudly. “Looks like we're snookered, guys.”

  Timothy glanced at the clock on the mantle. “Ten minutes to go.”

  “Are we just going to wait it out?”

  “I don't see what else we can do,” Stan replied. “Short of fisticuffs, I don't see any way out.”

  Roy nodded. He understood exactly what Stan meant. They had arrived at the point where all three men would rather see the prize go unclaimed than see one of the other two win. “Look,” he said, “if we're still here when the clock strikes seven then we're all going to feel like fools. Why don't we just leave now and save ourselves the embarrassment of hearing the damn clock ring?”

  After another few moments of silence, Stan said, “Yeah. That sounds like the best idea, all right. What about you, Tim? You on board for getting out of here now?”

  “Yeah. I'm good with that.”

  The three men stood and began walking toward the front door.

  “Hey, guys, what about me?” Felicity asked from her corner.

  “What about you?” Stan asked.

  “Are you going to let me down from here?”

  “I don't think so,” Stan replied. “You're so smart, you figure out how to get down. I'm sure that you have another trick up your sleeve.”

  “I don't have sleeves,” she said wriggling her arms in their cuffs, her little dance making her naked breasts shimmy most agreeably. “I meant it when I said that I wasn't giving myself any way to keep from
being claimed by the winner. I keep my promises.”

  Stan shrugged. “It's your game. So it’s your fault that your rules didn't let one of us claim you. Good night.”

  Roy looked at her, shrugged, and followed Stan to the front door.

  Timothy didn't even look at her when he followed the other two men.

  She whimpered miserably at their backs but they were unmoved.

  Stan opened the front door and gestured to Roy and Timothy. “After you, gentlemen.”

  Roy stopped dead in his tracks, Timothy almost bumping into his back. “After you, Stan.” He gestured to the open door. “I insist.”

  Timothy looked at the two men, suddenly realizing what was happening. “You think that you can get us out of the apartment and then slam the door on us, leaving you alone inside?” he growled.

  All three men heard Felicity laughing at them in the living room. Then they heard her say, “This is the Hotel California. You can check out but you can never leave.”

  Stan took a step back toward the living room. “I'm gonna pound that bitch.”

  Roy put a hand on his shoulder. “I wouldn't advise it. She's a planner. She knows who we are. If she did to you what she did to me, then she got your phone number so that she could call back and give you a final time and address?”

  “Yeah,” Stan said. “So what?”

  “So that means that she made sure that we were who we said we were. I guarantee that she left a letter somewhere with our names and phone numbers on it in case anything happened to her.”

  Felicity's voice rang out, “You're a smart man, Roy. Nobody puts anything over on you, do they?”

  He laughed and called back, “At least I'm not hanging helpless and almost naked in my living room waiting for someone to discover me.”

  “Unlock me and we can all be friends. The key's on the mantle. I can see it from here.”

  “Yeah,” Timothy said. “Let's unlock her and then she can do all of us.”

  Roy shook his head. “She doesn't mean that kind of friends. She means friends like when your girlfriend breaks up with you and 'friends' is a code word that means that she doesn't want to fuck you any more.”