The Accumulator

"I did with the last one, love," he said, "and I had to fuck her tight little cunnie to get her heart going again." He laughed again. "Would you like me to do the same to you?"

Maude regarded his organ like a mongoose might observe a snake. It had been a few weeks since she'd last been serviced and she was very horny, and the bulbous purple head bobbing in front of her promised a great deal of pleasure, despite the risk. She nodded quickly, a tight ball of excitement in her belly at the thought of being ravaged.

"All right, but don't cum in me."

"I won't."

"I mean it." Maude reached under her petticoats and slid her undergarments down her ample thighs. "I don't want another little brat."

"I won't Love. Honest...I'll be as good as gold."

"All right." She lay back on the bed. "How do you want to do it?"

"Every way," he said, "but we'll start just as you are." In a moment his trousers were down and he climbed aboard in gleeful anticipation.

*****

"I have a favour to ask, Mother." They were sitting at the dining room table and, observing her mother was in an unusually good mood, Millie sought to take advantage of it.

"Yes, Millie. What is it?"

"Well, Stanley -- Mr. Greenhough -- has asked if I might go to the theatre with him one evening, and I wondered if -"

"Of course, my dear."

"Really? I thought you didn't like him."

Maude laughed -- a short snorting noise devoid of humour. Stanley Greenhough was, in her opinion, the most boring young man she'd ever met but at least he had no lustful thoughts towards her daughter. In truth she couldn't imagine him having any lustful thoughts at all, which was just fine by her. She remembered Roger Smith's cock burrowing into her channel that afternoon, forcing aside the sucking embrace of her tight little tube. Despite his nondescript appearance he'd turned out to be the best lover ever, and her toes curled at the thought of how long and how hard he'd fucked her. No, Stanley wasn't cut from that cloth at all.

"Oh, no Millie," she said, "I think he is a very nice young man, and I feel sure he will look after you."

"Well, thank you Mother," the girl smiled. It was unusual to see her so well disposed and she wondered what had caused it. Still, it had presented an opportunity and she was glad to have unwittingly seized it.

She wasted no time in slipping on her hat, and walking briskly around to Stanley's house. She knew he was next door as she heard energetic hammering from the garage, which was another reason to call to see what he was doing.

Stanley opened the door at the third ring and his eyes widened as he perceived Millie Brown standing on his doorstep. She was looking utterly delectable in a dress of power blue with lace trimmings, and her face was shining with excitement.

"Stanley, I have something to tell you," she said. Her eyes dropped involuntarily to his crotch to see if there was any sign of what Nancy Philpott had described.

"What is it Millie?" He could not remember a time when she had stood alone on his doorstep and imagined it could only be bad news.

"My mother has agreed we might go out together -- that is, if you would like to." A stain of embarrassment spread across the girl's face as she realised Stanley would have seen where she was looking.

"Uh...well, that's nice."

Millie gathered her composure and regarded him with exasperation. "Is that all you can say, Stan Greenhough?"

"Well, I mean it is amazing news, Millie. I was just taken back a little because I never thought your mother would agree."

"Neither did I," the girl acknowledged, "but she did. She was in an uncommonly good mood this afternoon, I must say. So, when shall we go out together?"

Stanley's eyes fastened on her throat, just above the button of her blouse. In the soft evening light her neck was a pale cream, and he fancied he could see the beat of her pulse in it as she stood smiling up at him. He was mesmerized by the tiny movement, aware it was her heart causing it -- the same heart he must capture if he was to possess her.

He felt the familiar surge of lust, a keen knowledge he'd much rather go into her than out with her. Perhaps he could persuade her to see his machine first, and sit in it with him. And if it did what Wilhelm Reich had said it would, the only place he would take her was to his bed.

"Well, how about Saturday, Millie?" he replied, "I could fetch you from your house at say, seven o'clock?"

"Oh, yes! I'll be waiting for you."

"Perhaps you could spend a few minutes in my workshop before you leave?" he continued smoothly. "I have something to show you."

Millie glanced at her mother's house across the fence, but there was no sign of her. Normally she would have expressly forbidden the girl to enter any man's house, but she was not there to see and besides, had she not just given her permission to spend an evening with him? She nodded enthusiastically. "Of course. I'm sure it will be very interesting."

She entered the hallway behind him, pleasantly surprised at the order and neatness of what she saw. The hallway was bright and clean with pictures hung evenly on its walls, whilst to the right the drawing room was furnished tastefully. He led her to the back of the house and turned left before entering the garage.

Surprisingly, it was lit by the new electrical lamps she had read about, whilst her own house still relied on gaslight. They illuminated every corner of the space which was filled with shelves upon which were stored all manner of things: books and tools and boxes filled with papers, and many pieces of machinery whose purpose was unclear to her. But it was the item in the centre of the room that caught her attention: a hexagonal cabinet of mahogany or some other rare timber that glowed richly under the overhead lights. It stood taller than she did and was trimmed with walnut panels and what she supposed was gold leaf, giving it a somewhat regal appearance.

"This is what I have been working on, Millie." Stanley stood aside to afford the girl a better view.

She approached the cabinet, perceiving it was not gold but fine strips of brass joining the vertical edges. Still, it was an impressive sight, made more so by the nameplate fastened above the door. She stepped closer to read the inscription: 'Accumulator No. 004. Dr. Wilhelm Reich Company Limited, New York."

The door to the cabinet was open and Millie glanced inside, noting the metal lining and the partially constructed bench spanning the device. It was clear it was a modification, as it was of a different material and she could see offcuts on the floor where he had trimmed the timber to length, but the workmanship was good. Other than that, there was nothing inside.

"It is amazing, Stanley," she said with feeling.

"It is an Orgone Accumulator,' he continued. His voice was tight with excitement and she glanced at him curiously. "You need to sit in it with another person."

Millie turned back toward the machine and rested her hands on the gleaming surface. The wood was tactile and she leaned forward impulsively and rested her forehead against it. For a second she thought it was emitting its own source of warmth, but then realised it was probably just heat from the overhead lighting.

"It's warm," she said, "and beautiful. What is it for?"

"It promotes well-being and health," Stanley said. He thought she'd never looked so alluring, and was desperately thinking of how he might lure her into the machine. He opened his mouth to ask but found his throat as dry as dust, and had to swallow several times before he could continue.

"Why don't you step inside," he croaked at last, "and tell me what you think."

Millie lifted one dainty foot to step over the threshold, glancing again at Stanley's face as she did so. His normal expression had been stripped away, replaced by one of malevolent intensity in his dark eyes. She was reminded of how a hawk might look as it fell upon unsuspecting prey, or perhaps a spider as it gleefully embalmed the corpse of a fly.

"Go on," he urged, "go on, Millie. Step inside...yes, yes, just a little further."

Millie stopped. There was something going on here she did not understand and the peculiar expression on Stanley's face only confirmed her unease. She lifted her hand from the structure and rubbed it briefly on her skirt, but the curious warmth imparted by the wood was still there, adding to her uncertainty.

"Not now, Stanley, I have to go," she said. "I'll see you on Saturday then."

Millie hurried back to her bedroom. The warmth had spread through her body and she felt feverish and flustered, but could not say why. She closed the door and lay on the bed, wondering if it had indeed been the machine that caused it, or because she'd been alone with Stanley for the first time. She remembered the look on his face, of hungry anticipation. It suddenly reminded her of a picture in the book she had bought.

The thought startled her and she quickly reached under the mattress and extracted it. The content was racier than she could ever have imagined, for it showed in pictures what Nancy Philpott had described in words: the act of coupling between a man and a woman, in various positions. At first glance she'd been shocked and had quickly closed it, but now the memory of Stanley's expression caused her to have a closer look and she did so with quickening breath.

Millie carefully examined the first pictures, showing a muscular young man pleasuring a virginal young maiden. In the first the man crouched over her, his body lean and naked whilst hers was shrouded in a thin gown. She was looking over her shoulder at his face, her eyes wide in surprise and shock as if he had suddenly appeared before her. His organ was exposed, thick and rampant and capped with a plum-shaped head the size of a small apple. The man's expression was one of carnal lust, just as she had seen on Stanley's face.

But it was the remaining two pictures that fascinated Millie, for it illustrated just how the act of mating was done: the girl crouching, her arms pressed to a blanket cast carelessly on the floor, and he kneeling behind her, the head of his...thing pressed into the crevice between her legs. The angle of the camera showed it had half disappeared into her body and the lips of her cunny were grasping the shaft tightly. She was smiling back at him, so the act was obviously pleasurable, and this pleased Millie as despite what Nan had said she suspected mating was a painful and messy business. But then again, perhaps it was not a smile but a grimace of pain, for she could see for herself his organ was very thick and she knew from experience how tight the channel of a young girl was.

The final picture was of the girl beneath him, her legs raised over his back. It was taken from somewhere near his feet and Millie could see the taut cheeks of his bottom, and his sack pressed hard against her soft flesh. He was completely immersed in her, to the extent very little of his organ was visible. Millie studied the image intently to better observe the detail that interested her. She could see a gleam of moisture painting the girl's skin at the point of their union, almost as if he had kissed her there; or perhaps it was a feminine ooze such as she leaked when her own fingers stole to her privates in the moments before sleep. She had felt it again as she hurried home from Stanley's house: a pleasant warmth suffusing her groin and a wetness seeping into her undergarments.

The urge to touch herself became overwhelming and she quickly checked the door was locked before lifting her petticoats to lie on the bed. Her cunny was wetter than she could ever remember and her fingers slipped easily between the soft outer lips. She sighed contentedly and rested her eyes on the fourth image as she gently played with herself. She observed the man's muscular buttocks and his powerful thighs, in stark contrast to the limbs of the girl beneath him. She saw how slight she was, her slender legs splayed open as if she had been flung onto the blankets to await his desire. It suddenly occurred to her the girl was being taken against her will.

She thought aroused her and she quickly imagined how the scenario had developed: the maiden at home, perhaps sewing or reading quietly, unaware a farm labourer had been watching her, following; waiting until she was alone. The brief struggle before he pinned her to the floor, the tearing of clothes, the resignation on the girl's face. Millie saw she was young, for the breast peeping from the open camisole was small, barely more than a pubescent mound, and the nipple tiny. He was heavily muscled and it would not have been much of a contest -- and so she lay quiescent beneath him, her eyes closed as the felt the hardness of his organ nudging her, waiting with trepidation for the inevitable to happen.

And as her fingers played with her sex, Millie wondered if the man would be as hard if it were she who was lying beneath him, her pale loins exposed and her heart beating in apprehension. Would it hurt the first time? Would she scream as he plunged the thick, throbbing sword into her tiny opening? His organ was certainly long enough to reach up to somewhere behind her belly button. What was it like to have such a thing inserted so far inside you, a living, throbbing staff of thick flesh skewering you like a harpooned fish?

Another wave of heat enveloped her and she rose quickly to the dresser to seize her wooden hairbrush. She had used the rounded end to tease herself before, but never to slide in deeply. But now the book had clearly indicated a girl's cunnie could take such an object, and so she resolved to try.

The end of the handle was thicker than his shaft and it soon became clear it would not enter. Millie pressed it harder, feeling a twinge of pain, but it resolutely remained outside her body and so she simply rubbed it against her for a while, enjoying the feeling of the polished wood against her sensitive flesh. In the quiet of the room she could hear the small sucking sounds it made and this aroused her further.

But she still felt curiously empty, and so she withdrew the brush and examined its handle. It didn't look too big -- certainly it was shorter than the man's erect organ in her book. She saw too its girth was reasonable; so how was it he could bury his thing fully into the girl's body, when she could not insert this handle into hers?

Millie replaced the brush against her pussy and gripped it with both hands, like a Seppuku sword poised for the final stroke. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply for a moment, the breath whistling between her lips, and then she drew both hands sharply towards her.

For an instant there was resistance, and then a sudden feeling of something tearing. The handle sank deeply into her body until its rim reached her vulva, and a stab of pain as sharp as a blade skewered though her loins. She gasped with the intensity of it, her hands gripping the offending object like claws, and her eyes filled with tears. For a few seconds she was terrified the brush had damaged her, and then she remembered Nan's words: "You have to pop your cherry, girls, and it might hurt a bit -- but once it's gone you'll love the feeling!" Millie hadn't actually understood what 'popping your cherry' meant, but as she lay there with the handle buried deep in her throbbing sex she thought she understood; and so she rested quietly for a while, waiting for the discomfort to end.

At length the pain diminished to a dull ache and Millie tentatively moved the handle back and forth a little. The feeling of discomfort receded and a sensation of warmth and fullness replaced it. She could see herself in the dresser's mirror, her dress scrunched up around her hips and her lower body exposed. I look just like the girl, she thought, being ravaged like a common harlot. Look at me, with my thighs spread! They were slim and as pale as alabaster, each a study in perfection; and at their juncture she saw her busy hands and the furled lips of her cunny, soft and pink; and the brush thrusting back and forth between them in cadence with the soft, wet sounds in her ears.

She closed her eyes and the mirror's reflection was replaced by the man in the book. He was stood at the foot of her bed, gazing down with an expression of unbridled love on his face, and he held his rampant cock with one hand. It was large, its head suffused a deep purple. He toyed with it idly and she saw with a shiver of delight that moisture was oozing from its little eye, drooling downward in a silver thread to touch her naked belly.

And then he was crouching over her, whispering for her to lift her thighs, smiling and nodding in encouragement. With eager hands he helped her, raising her legs further still, tucking them behind her arms so she was almost folded double. She felt open, vulnerable, the shell-pink lips of her privates furled back and shining with moisture. She saw his expression of delight as he climbed over her, felt his breath upon her cheek and a moment later the silken touch of his organ against the trembling lips of her sex.

The image was enough to trip her over the edge and her orgasm burst in her brain like a super nova. It was sharper than any she had had before: a monstrous wave of almost unbearable pleasure bent her body like a bow, each muscle in her arms and back and legs like a steel cable.

Afterwards, Millie lay on the bed to catch her breath, her fingers playing idly with the thick wet lips of her sex. It had been the most intense climax she'd ever had, and she could still feel the last vestiges of it. But it had been disturbing too, for the face that filled her mind as she reached the very pinnacle of her pleasure had not been of the man in the book, but that of Stanley Greenhough, his eyes glinting as he plunged his rampant cock inside her.

****

Laura Robinson peered through her thick lenses as a blurred figure approaching her desk. She was the county librarian, an irony that didn't escape the local people as she was almost blind, but she was good at her job and, despite her severe appearance, was generally helpful.

Eventually the fuzzy outline swam into focus and she recognised Millicent Brown, one of her favourite students from her teaching days. The girl reached her a moment later and smiled warmly.

"Good morning Mrs Robinson."

"Good morning Millie. I didn't expect to see you here on a Saturday morning."

"I have a small matter I need to research before tonight," the girl said, "and I wondered if you might help me. I want to find out all I can about a Doctor Wilhelm Reich."

"Weren't you in here last week on the same task?"

"I was, but didn't find much. I was hoping you might guide me."

Mrs. Robinson smiled. "Of course I will, Millie. Now, is this Doctor of yours alive, or dead?"

"Alive, I think. At least he was recently -- and I think he lives in New York."

"And what sort of Doctor is he?"

Millie shrugged her shoulders, but then remembered the woman probably couldn't see her very well. "I don't know, Mrs. Robinson, but he has patented a machine that is to do with physics, or perhaps health."

The woman nodded. "Well, I'd suggest you look in Who's Who to start with, and then perhaps the Encyclopaedias. If you can remember the name of his machine we might find something in the papers, too."

By the end of the morning Millie knew as much about Dr. Reich as anyone. He'd emigrated to New York a year or two earlier, and the papers of the time were full of his controversial theories about sexuality. But one article interested Millie in particular:

'Shortly after arriving in America, Doctor Reich coined the term "orgone"— derived from the word "orgasm" and "organism". It referred to a biological energy he reportedly had discovered. In 1940 he started building Orgone Accumulators, devices his patients sat inside to harness the reputed health benefits of Orgone...'