The Spider's Web

"Would you like some champagne?" One of Claude's other models was walking around with a tray of fluted glasses. She was dressed, if you could call it that, as cat woman -- a cap with little ears on her head, whiskers glued to her cheeks, her arms and legs covered in gloves and stockings that looked like orange fur. Her torso was completely bare. She had a little cat tail sprouting out her butt. On the other side a little cat face had been painted around her pussy.

Tom reached for a glass, but Yvette intercepted him. "Time to go. The natives are getting restless."

"Getting restless?" Jan muttered. "I'd hate to see what they're like when they get rowdy."

"Oh, you will my dear, you will. But not out here. We worked too hard to get everything set up to let it go to waste."

"Set up? Where?"

She didn't answer. She just dragged them off the table and into the next room. Well, it wasn't a room exactly. It was an area that had been separated by heavy black curtains that went all the way up to the loft ceiling. Inside it was dark, so dark it took a few minutes before Tom's eyes adjusted.

"What the fuck?"

The room was dominated by two huge spider webs, made of thick rope, each centered about ten feet off the ground. The floor beneath them was covered with thick pads.

"You two will be hanging in the webs -- the poor trapped flies. Naked, of course, spread eagled and helpless. The spiders will crawl up and ... well, you can guess the rest."

"We're going to be tied up?" Jan was trying to break the grip Yvette had on her arm. "No one said anything about being tied up."

"I explained it to you," Yvette sighed. "You just were not paying attention."

"You told me about the web. You never said anything about being tied up."

"You agreed to let yourself be used in any way our guests desired. Not in so many words, but you knew why you were coming here, did you not? What did you tell your boyfriend?"

"She told me we were going to get fucked a lot. She didn't way anything about being tied up."

"Well, there is no way you would hold your grip all evening. I will secure you so that most of your weight is supported with your thighs. You will really be quite comfortable."

"But our wrists and ankles will be fastened to the web?"

"Of course. Your vulnerability is the prize. But to attain it the spiders must climb up to you. It should be a fascinating experience."

"Fascinating," Jan muttered. "No way in hell." But Tom was already climbing into position.

"You see," Yvette was saying, "there is something almost like a strap on harness attached to the center of the web. Slip your legs into it. See how that supports you?" She climbed up in front of him. There were soft straps already in place to secure his wrists and ankles. "See now, isn't that comfy?"

"I cannot believe that I am doing this," Jan grumbled. She climbed up and put herself into the harness on the other web. They were so close together that Yvette could swing over to her to fasten her in.

"Think of it as an amusement park ride, my dear. Like going on a roller coaster. Just relax and enjoy it."

"Yeah, sure."

"Your boyfriend seems be looking forward to it." Yvette reached over and tried to pull Tom's web closer, but it was too heavy to budge much. He strained forward as far as he could, but the tip of his erection was still about a foot short of its target. Yvette leaned out from Jan's web to give it a little kiss. Then she clambered down beneath Jan to give a little lick between those spread eagled legs.

"Merde!" Yvette was wiping her face off. Jan had peed on it.

"I'm sorry, it just happened. I'm scared," Jan whimpered.

"Scared? I'll show you scared, you little bitch." Yvette dropped to the mats and went over the edge of the room. She returned with a long metal rod. "Do you know what this is?"

"A cattle prod?" Tom said.

"It is the spider's sting," Yvette said. "Do you have any idea what this will feel like, against that cunt you have made so conveniently wet?" She zapped Jan's left foot to unleash a shattering scream. "We will have a little contest. The one who fucks you in the most creative way will have the honor of wielding the spider's sting."

"You're kidding," Tom ventured. "Aren't you?" Just the fact that she was walking around with a cattle prod, that he was tied up watching her walk around with a cattle prod, was bad enough.

"Am I?"

She lifted it up and stuck it under his balls. She pulled the trigger, but the voltage setting was very low, no more than a pleasant tingling. Despite that, he let out a blood curdling scream. Yvette was so startled she dropped the cattle prod. And Jan ... he had literally scared the shit out of poor Jan, not that there was that much left after she had been swabbed out by him.

"Merde! Fusking asshole!" Yvette's comments seemed merely descriptive. She went running out of the room cursing, leaving them hanging, so to speak. A couple minutes later the model dressed up as a cat came in, with a mop and pail. She cleaned the floor, then stuck the mop up to swab out between Jan's legs. Then she went over and retrieved the cattle prod.

"Fucking bitch!" she snarled. "I was going to be the next big thing. Now all I'm good for is to clean up your shit! Bitch!" She stuck the prod up where she had just swabbed. "Shit! How does the fucking thing work?"

"Pull the trigger," Tom suggested. That was enough to provoke a scream of outrage from his beloved. That was followed by a gasp of relief. The prod was still on low voltage. Then Jan had the presence of mind to scream in agony.

"Yeah bitch! Take that!"

"Lucy!" It was Yvette. "Later."

Some of the guests had ventured into the spider den. Yvette whispered instructions and they stripped off at least the lower half of their costumes. A couple of them removed their masks. Tom found himself wondering what it would be like the next time he saw them. Then his view was obscured as one of them clambered up and stuck a cock into his mouth. After that, about all he saw was one hairy belly after another, bearing a cock that had often just come out of some other orifice. How often had he fantasized about being fucked at both ends of his digestive system, of being helpless as his flesh was plundered? He was not resisting, not in the slightest. He was opening his throat and bowels as wide as possible. He wanted more, he wanted bigger cocks, deeper penetration, harder thrusts. His bowels were on fire. He was trembling, shuddering. His whole body was tingling. It seemed like he would come forever. Then someone took his cock into their mouth, and he exploded. That ruined it for a while. The pounding continued, but he wasn't really feeling it. He needed a break, and he wasn't about to get it.

For a moment, no one was covering his face, and he could see what was happening to Jan. Actually, he couldn't really see her. There was one guy up around her face, with his legs scrunched up to make room for another guy who was trying to fuck her. The lower guy's face kept bumping in to the first guy's balls. There was a third guy behind her. It seemed like all three had been at it for quite a while. They were pumping away with more determination than desire. As he was watching, the three of them, on some sort of signal, started to clamber around to rotate positions, and he got a good look at his beloved. She was glistening with sweat and semen. The one on the way up to her face paused to lick her groin, and she rewarded him with a very noisy climax. "Fuck me," she was sobbing, "don't stop." The one who had been fucking her was behind her now, and she gave a little gasp of satisfaction as he slid into her bowels.

The sight was enough to restore Tom's erection. Of course, he was still being fucked. That had been so constant that he was more or less taking it for granted. It was going to feel strange not to have a cock wedged in his flesh. But now, watching Jan, he was once again noticing how good it felt each time that cock slid into him, how impatient he was for the next thrust, how he was wishing that whoever it was behind him could get just a little deeper, be just a little faster, a little harder. "Fuck me!" He was actually saying it out loud. "Fuck my fucking asshole!"

"Fucking whore," a voice growled behind him. "I'm going to fuck the shit out of you, you fucking whore!" And he was battered for about thirty seconds, and it was glorious, but it stopped after one long plunge. There was a breeze on his back. He was left hanging.

"Oh, honey, it looks like you have a problem." Wonder Woman was staring up at him. "Momma's got the cure for you." She started to clamber up the ropes to reach him. The web was heaving with each of her moves. Somewhere nearby there was shrill, high pitched laughter. Jan wasn't busy at the moment. She was watching him. She was laughing at him.

Some of guys had been pretty flabby, although mostly the flabby ones had been interested in Jan. That hadn't bothered him. Even if it had, it would have not made much difference. They were fucking him, not the other way around. But how was he supposed to keep up his interest when this huge, well, fairly large, black tit was being shoved into his mouth?

"Come on, boy. Momma is here to help you." She was grinding away with her pelvis. She could not spare a hand to guide him in, but somehow he thought that the flesh around his prick changed character, from sweaty flab to hot slick cunt, too loose for him to get much sensation. "Oh, boy, that makes Momma feel good. Hey boy, don't punk out on me now. Hey, Larry honey, come give me some help here."

"You want me to fuck your butt?"

"Ho, honey, I want you to fuck his butt. Perk him back up again."

"I ain't fucking no boy's butt."

"Honey, everybody's been fucking that butt. Don't tell me you haven't been watchin'."

"Watchin' is different than doin'." But Superman was climbing up the web behind him. Superman was rubbing a large, limp prick against his ass. The soft tip was rubbing against the anal ring, and Tom was so loose by now that it was just sliding right in, even though it was still not hard. Then all of a sudden it was hard, and he was being fucked once more.

Just the rubbing had been enough to restore Tom's erection, at least he thought so. It was hard to know exactly what was going on inside the soft vastness of the Wonder Woman cunt. She was pressing in and out, hopefully feeling more than he was, totally out of rhythm with Superman. The jerky motion was making Tom queasy. God only knew what had been forced down his throat -- semen, his own shit, maybe some of Jan's. Maybe even some urine. It was all churning in his stomach. He was going to lose it. He was going to puke all over Wonder Woman. Just as he was sure he was about to vomit, the lights came on.

"Refreshment time! We have some very interesting refreshments." It was Claude, not Yvette, making the announcement. He gave and exaggerated snort to emphasize just what the refreshments would be. "You know," he added, "things go better with coke!" At that, everyone left the room. Everyone, that is, except for Tom and Jan. No one had bothered to let them down.

After a few minutes, maybe it was only half a minute but it seemed like forever, the model dressed up as cat woman came in to see them.

"Lucy," Jan ventured. "Get us down."

"Bullshit. No one said anything about letting you down. They're just getting ready for the next round." Lucy was over in the corner looking for something. She gave a grunt of satisfaction as she retrieved the cattle prod. "I just came in to get first dibs. We have a little unfinished business, anyway."

"What next round?" Jan asked.

"Why, the spider sting." Lucy turned on the cattle prod. It was making a nasty buzz. She touched a finger to the tip and winced. "We've got three more of these. They're drawing straws right now to see who gets to be first. But it's going to be me. I'm going to shove this right up your puny little cunt and keep it going until the battery dies."

"You wouldn't," Jan ventured.

"You don't think so?" Lucy reached up to poke the rod into Jan's groin. "Guess what?"

Jan's answer was a scream. It appeared that Lucy had figured out how to adjust the voltage.

After about ten seconds, Lucy did stop. So did Jan's screams. But now there was a rhythmic chanting coming from the room beyond. "Spiders! Spiders! Sting! Sting! Sting!" The guests were working themselves into a frenzy.

"Sting!" Lucy shrieked, and the started to zap Jan again. But Tom came crashing down on top of her, knocking her unconscious. He had found that he was so slick with sweat that his hands came right out of the restraints. He had freed himself while Lucy was distracted with Jan.

"We have to get out of here," he stated the obvious while he was freeing his beloved.

"Just a moment." Jan paused, astride her fallen erstwhile friend, and let loose a cascade of urine.

Tom pulled her away. "That was uncalled for."

"She wasn't zapping your asshole. Bitch." She tried to give a kick and almost slipped on the puddle she had left on the floor.

The chanting had stopped. Somehow, that was even more frightening. The curtains that shielded them started to stir. "Run!" Tom grabbed her and pulled her into a closet at the other end of the room. The door slammed shut behind them. It was awfully drafty for a closet, and there was some lighting.

"Tom! You idiot!"

They were in the stairwell. Naked. The door had locked behind them.

"Our clothes," Jan moaned. "My purse. Your wallet. What the fuck are we going to do now?"

It was chilly in the stairwell. There was a broken window letting in the late October, by now early November, breeze. She sat down on the landing, shivering, and began to cry.

"We could go down, the steps, go out on the street, and get ourselves arrested," Tom said. "They'd probably have a blanket and maybe even some hot coffee."

"We'd never make it. This is a hangout for junkies."

"It is?"

"Claude likes it that way. He tolerates them and they supply him."

"Shit."

"Pimps too," she added.

"Other than Claude?"

"Very funny."

"Quiet," he hissed. "We've got company." But it was too late. Someone was coming up the steps. They could have retreated, up to the roof, but what was the point? It didn't seem like their situation could get more hopeless. But a very large black guy was coming up the steps so see what the commotion was. He let out a low whistle.

"Man oh man. Only in New York!" He climbed up so that his head was even with the landing -- at a level, that is, with their naked butts. Jan pulled her legs up and together, but that didn't really hide much of anything. She was still dripping from both orifices. Tom was in about the same pose, just as uncomfortably aware of how wet his asshole was. "Man! You two look like you've been fucked six ways to Sunday."

"We need help," Jan said. "Please?"

"Please?" That provoked a bitter laugh. "That don't cut it, girlie. Say, ain't you the perfume bitch?" Jan nodded. "Man, you don't smell like no perfume now." He gave a little sniff. "Jewish pussy. Well, little Jewish pussy, what are you going to trade for my help. And don't say your pussy, cause I don't like little Jewish girls. I like women with some meat on their bones."

"Wonder Woman," Tom muttered.

"Yeah, Wonder Woman's okay. She's got a hard ass, but otherwise she's all right."

"Not the real one." Tom stopped. How could a comic book character be real? "The one in there." He gestured at the door.

"Oh no. I saw her going up. That's a little too much meat. So tell me boy, what you got for me?"

"My watch?" By some miracle, it was still on his wrist.

"What would I want with a fake Rolex?"

"It's not a fake," Tom snapped. But now he wasn't sure.

"Since we're going to get acquainted, let me introduce myself. My name is Clyde." Clyde unzipped his fly. "And this is Rodney. But I just call him Rod, for short. Get it? Rod?"

"Nice to meet you, Rodney," Jan said. Rodney was almost a foot long, and very thick. Jan, even after an hour or so of non stop rape, seemed to be finding Rodney very interesting.

"Back off, bitch. I told you, Rodney ain't got a taste for skinny little Jewish girls." That pretty much limited the possibilities. Tom was staring at Rodney now with a mix of fear and anticipation. It was half again as long as Mr. Pinky, and a lot thicker. He turned around to kneel over the top step. The stair treads were hard and cold on his knees.

"Yes sir, Rodney's got a hankerin' for little white boys. Never had me one of them. Whaddya think, white boy? Can you take me all the way?" Loose as Tom was, he was still straining to stretch around Rodney's thick bunt tip. It had been a long time since the sphincter muscles had screamed in protest, but they were complaining now.

"Easy, boy." Clyde was stroking his back. "Don't tear nothin'. Think about how nice it's going to feel. Oh yeah." Rodney slid in a little over half way, then stopped. Tom could work Mr. Pinky on into his gut, but this was a lot thicker. He gasped as he felt it push its way through the valves. And it kept going. He felt like it was going to be sticking out of his throat. It was, at least, pressing up between his lungs. Clyde pulled himself almost all the way back out, then all the way back in again, then he started to fuck, not as hard as Jan fucked sometimes, but there was so much flesh in motion that it was overwhelming. Tom had been completely drained. He couldn't manage more than tiny little spurts of semen, but those were coming out at each thrust. He was coming harder than he had ever come before, and Clyde just kept going, in a slow, steady, almost gentle rhythm. The two of them seemed to be in no hurry, but Jan was getting really cold. She started to cry again.

"What's the matter, little girl? We taking too long for you?" Clyde pulled all the way out. "You want to hurry things up?" He pulled her face to Rodney. Rodney was so thick she could barely get her mouth around it. Rodney was stained with Tom's bowels, perhaps with Tom's blood. But she was desperate. She let Rodney fill her mouth. She opened her throat. Rodney erupted, gagging her.

"Oh, man, oh man, you two ever want some action, you just give old Clyde a call." He handed Tom a business card, but of course Tom had no place to put it. "I can hook you into some real," that was accompanied with a sneer at Tom's watch, "money."

"You're a pimp?" Jan said. The fact that Rodney was wearing a purple knit coat and leather pants seemed to have made no impression on her. It was, after all, Halloween. "I mean, you're a real pimp?"

"As real as they come, baby. What about you?"

"What about me?" Jan seemed baffled. "I'm a student. I'm a model."

"You're a not quite," Clyde said. "But you got talent, baby. You too, boy. There ain't many can take Mr. Rodney like that and act like they enjoy it."

"He wasn't acting," Jan interrupted.

"All the better. You want real work, you want to go beyond just semi-pro -- I'm your man. Now, a deal is a deal. You took care of Mr. Rodney. Mr. Clyde is going to take care of you." He went across the landing to the door back into Claude's loft.

"It's locked," Tom pointed out.

"No problem." Claude took a knife, a switchblade, out of a pocket and pushed the blade through. He was humming something. Tom recognized the tune.

"I am, you back door man. I am, you back door man. The men don't know me, but the little girls know who I am."

"Miss Evie, she got a real hankerin' for Mr. Rodney." Claude interrupted his humming as the door swung open. "But she don't like me comin' up the front way. Scares off the customers."

The stepped into the spider room. It was brightly lit now, and filled with consternation.

"Clyde." Claude greeted him with some bewilderment. "I told you, I'll have the rest of the money for you by tomorrow evening ... oh. You've found them. You've brought them back. Thank goodness. The guests were very disappointed ..."