From Wed Mar 12 14:44:06 1997
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Subject: Doorman by V.P. Viddler M+/F, NC, Humliat
Date: Wed, 12 Mar 1997 14:44:06 -0500
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                            (nc, rape, torture, etc)

WARNING: All Fantasia stories contain some or all of the following:
Non-consensual sex, rape, bondage, heavy pain, torture, incest, degradation,
underage characters. If these things offend you, don't read.


                                  THE DOORMAN

                                by V.P. Viddler
                                    Part One


      "That's one," Victor said. "Very good, Dominick. Nice and hard. Not at
all bad for a start, don't you think so, Sylvia? I know you can't answer me,
darling, but your twisting and wriggling and those painful sounds you're making
are answer enough, don't you agree, Dominick?"

      "Christ," Dominick said.

      "Indeed. And you will do still better as you get the hang of it, I'm
sure. Such moaning, Sylvia! It's really to bad that we can't do away with that
gag, you know, so that we might enjoy the lady's full-throated groans and cries
and sobbing, and her pleading for mercy, and all that. Not to mention, of
course, the screaming which I'm sure you will be able to elicit as you go on
with this. But alas, arousing as that would be, it would be too hazardous for
us. It might prove awkward if passers-by, hearing those beautiful screams, were
to follow the sound and interrupt us. Of course, anyone might come in at any
time as it is. But that is part of the excitement, isn't it?"

      "What if someone comes in?" Dominick had said, how many years ago? And
Victor had said the same thing: "That just adds to the excitement, don't you
think?" And she had been so horrified, so humiliated and frightened and
dumbstruck at what was going on that this only intensified that horror. As she
had stood there actually shaking, trying to form words which might sway him
from what he had in mind, knowing it was futile, already crying, as Dominick,
the building's doorman, stared in wonder, amazement and lust, unable to credit
the reality of his good fortune.

      For six months he had watched her, by far the most attractive tenant in
the building. Passing him every day in the lobby. "Good morning, Miss Rockham."
"Good morning, Dominick." "Shall I get you a taxi, Miss Rockham?" "Thank you,

      He was the doorman. Not young. Not thin. Not rich. And she was Miss
Rockham. All of that. And more. With her long straight brown hair and her
almost scornfully aristocratic face and her sensuous body and high sumptuous
breasts and long luscious mouth-watering legs. Fantasizing about that body, of
course, but not for a second thinking that he might ever -- and it was four
o'clock in the morning, two days before Christmas, and he was alone in the
lobby, everything dead, nobody around at that hour, nothing happening or likely
to, and she came in with Victor. Who he knew was her man. And who had something
about him that said he was more than that. And now he saw right away something
was wrong. The way she was walking, the way he was looking. A fight. Something.

      "Good evening, Miss Rockham."

      "Good evening." Softly. Muffled.

      And Victor. "Good evening, Dominick. Working at this hour?"

      "It's quiet."

      "Indeed." Looking around the big empty lobby. Looking at her. She not
looking at him. But frightened. Suddenly wary, as though knowing he had an
idea, a notion that was bad news for her. Dominick was mystified. But watching.

      "Sylvia," Victor said. "Have you given Dominick his Christmas tip this

      Looking at Victor now, definitely frightened, definitely wary. "Not --
not yet. I -- I was going --"

      "Now would be a good time to do that, don't you think, Sylvia?"

      "I -- I don't have -- I don't have much --" Fumbling with her purse.

      "Put the purse down, Sylvia," Victor said.

      "But --"

      "Now," Victor said.

      Dominick was watching, curious, a bit confused. Sylvia, suddenly
swallowing hard, put the purse down on the curving marble desk with its bank of
monitors at which Dominick was sitting.

      "Dominick," Victor said. "Do you think Miss Rockham is an attractive

      Taken aback, Dominick hesitated. "Yes. Sure."

      "I thought so. And do you find Miss Rockham... sexy? The truth now,

      "Well... well, yeah, I mean -- I do, I --"

      "I thought that too. For she is, isn't she? Sylvia, say thank you to

      Sylvia -- Miss Rockham -- wasn't looking at him. She was, he thought,
trembling a little. And now swallowing again. "Thank you," she said, so softly
he hardly heard it.

      "Tell me, Dominick. What is it you like most about Miss Rockham. Is it
her breasts? Her behind? Or her legs, perhaps? I myself am a leg man. Are you a
leg man, Dominick?"

      "I -- I don't --"

      "Miss Rockham has beautiful legs, Dominick. Most luscious. All the way
up. I have seldom known legs as good, and I am a connoisseur."

      "Victor --"

      Victor didn't bother to acknowledge her interruption. "Would you like to
see them, Dominick? As a Christmas tip, you might say. Would you like to be
able to look at them? All of them? Right here and now?"

      "Victor -- please -- you can't --"

      "Can't I, Sylvia?" Victor said.

      And she said, "Victor, please -- please -- for god's sake --"

      "What do you think, Dominick?"

      And Dominick said, "Yeah. I -- yeah. Sure. I sure would."

      "Victor, what -- no -- listen -- please --"

      And Victor said, "Open your coat, Sylvia."

      "Victor --"

      "Not another word, Sylvia. Not one. All right?"

      "Oh god." It was a whimper of despair, of degradation.

      "Open your coat, Sylvia."

      And she did. Unbuttoning the fur coat, pulling it apart in front.
Standing in black gown and high heels. Standing and shaking. And starting,
silently, to cry.

      "Step back, Sylvia. So Dominick can see all of you. Back. That's it. Do
you have a good view, Dominick?" Which was when he said what if somebody comes
in and Victor made his reply and Miss Rockham was crying softly. And Victor
said, "Pull up your skirt, Sylvia."

      Now how she looked at him, not saying anything, just crying, just sort of
gasping and begging with her eyes, god, it had to turn him on, how Miss Rockham
was standing there in the middle of the lobby, standing so he could see all of
her, absolutely gorgeous and absolutely shaking with horror and humiliation and

      "Pull up your skirt, Sylvia. Slowly. All the way up. Do it, Sylvia."

      And now she wasn't looking at him. Now she was standing in that lobby and
grasping her skirt in both hands and pulling it up. Up. Slowly up. Exposing to
him her calves. So luscious. Knees. Round, beautiful. Slowly now.

      "All the way," Victor said.

      Miss Rockham pulling that skirt higher. Baring her thighs.

      "You may note,"Victor said, "that she is not wearing stockings. I don't
allow her to. I prefer those legs naked. Always. You don't mind, I hope."

      He didn't mind. The legs, naked, gleamed at him. Rounded marvellous
thighs, the skirt going higher and higher. Stopping.

      "All the way, Sylvia. Around your waist. And hold it there. This is
Dominck's Christmas tip, and we must be generous. I want him to look as long as
he wants to."

      Sylvia was sobbing now, audibly, and she was pulling the skirt up around
her waist, showing her small black panties. And all of her fantastically
sensuous legs.

      "I told you they were good," Victor said. "You can look at them as much
as you want."

      And Dominick did, fearing as he did that someone might come into the
lobby, but not able to stop looking at her legs, her tight hands holding her
skirt at her waist, her shaking, sobbing body, her debasement. But at last he

      "Next Christmas," Victor said as they started for the elevator. "Next
Christmas I'll have her show you her breasts."

      A sound from Miss Rockham, a sound indescribable. And the sight of her
face until the elevator came...


      "That's two," Victor said. "Wonderful. Ah, hark at the sweet stifled song
of agony. Painful, my darling? How she squirms. I'm going to have to hold her
hands to keep her properly bent over this desk, am I not, Sylvia? What? I just
can't make out what you're saying through that tight gag, darling. I know you
want us to stop, but we've only just begun. You know we promised Dominick at
least six. At least. It's Christmas again, you know."

      That first Christmas -- how many years ago -- she had been a young girl.
And now she was a woman. But just as sexy, just as gorgeous -- and just as
helpless. After that night she had not been able to look at him. "Good morning,
Miss Rockham."  Nothing showing in his voice. But she knew he was thinking
about it. "Good morning." Inaudibly. Because she was thinking about it, knowing
he was. About her standing there with that skirt hoisted high for him. And
about what Victor had promised him for next Christmas.

      For a year it went on. But he didn't know if Victor would actually -- And
then again it was two days before Christmas, four in the morning, the lobby
deserted, and they came in. Stopping. Victor smiling. She white and tense.
Victor saying, "Time for your Christmas tip, Dominick. Have you been looking
forward to it?" Nodding silently. And she moaning. Just moaning, looking sick,
looking faint, and moaning so softly, so pathetically, as Victor again made her
stand back, made her face him, told her to open her blouse. "I particularly
told her to omit a brassiere this evening to make it simpler," Victor said.
"Show him, Sylvia." And she moaning, crying, unbuttoning the blouse, pulling it
open, spreading it open for him, and he staring at the bare round high fine
soft firm pink-nippled breasts. Staring for it seemed hours, as she stood
holding the blouse open, and Victor smiling, and she whimpering, and when it
was over Victor said, "Next Christmas," and Miss Rockham gave a little terrible
cry, "Next Christmas I'll have her strip completely naked. All right?"

      "I'll hold her hands," Victor said. "Do it a little higher this time.
Across the back. And harder."

      Sylvia's head now shaking wildly, awful sounds coming through the gag,
sounds meaning no, no, but coming out as NNNPHH NNNGHHH.


      "Look at that," Victor said, smiling. "You nearly jumped right off the
desk, darling. And see how she's still flopping around. Ah, you did well,
Dominick. That's three. And through her clothes too. Why don't I just pull up
this blouse a little. Stop fighting, Sylvia. Or shall I turn you over and let
Dominick have a shot at your breasts? Oh look, Dominick, that's calmed her
down, hasn't it? Just listen to that fearful moaning. Now. That naked back
looks like a perfect target. Maybe we'll save her breasts for next Christmas.

      Recalling now those breasts as he had looked upon them, and then
recalling the following year. When Victor had indeed made her strip for him.
Totally. In the middle of the lobby.

      Miss Rockham had not wanted to do it. She had gone down on her knees to
Victor, pleading, begging, sobbing. And Victor had bend down and whispered into
her ear. Miss Rockham had gone white. And then Miss Rockham had stood up,
unsteadily, swaying, and had taken off her clothing. All of it. Piece by piece.
Facing Dominick. Standing there as long as he looked at that body. And turning
around at Victor's command, showing him all of her.

      And Victor saying, "Now, what's left to give Dominick next year?" And
smiling. And making her put her clothes back on in front of him. "What would
you like, Dominick? Her body?" And Sylvia made a small whimpering noise that
struck him to the heart and at the same time made his cock throb. "I don't
know," Victor said thoughtfully. "It may be too soon for that. But maybe part
of it. A nice part. Would you like that, Dominick?"


      "All right. You think about it, Dominick. Think about which part of her
you want. And it will be yours. Next Christmas."

      And again a year of knowing, both of them knowing. Each day, passing him,
she knew he was visualizing her naked, standing crying swaying nude in the
lobby, and that he was visualizing what she would look like next time. What she
would be doing.

      What he wanted was her cunt, but he knew he couldn't ask for that. Not
yet. Her ass was as yet forbidden also. Too soon. Victor could stop this
charade at any time. But her mouth? Could he ask for her mouth? No. Probably
just a breast. Or a thigh. When Victor asked him Dominick almost said her
mouth, but he was afraid. "A thigh," he said. Victor smiled at him. And at her.
"You may have them both," Victor said...


      "That's four," Victor said. "Look at those legs kicking. You've rucked
your skirt right up to your hips, Sylvia, did you know that? Still has the best
legs in town, doesn't she?"

      And she did. And Dominick recalling the first time he had used those
thighs. Skirt hoisted high, legs bare, Victor had forced her to use those
thighs on him however he wanted. And she had. Sitting on that desk and giving
him the use of them. Helping him. Victor watching. Smiling. Miss Rockham
crying. And masturbating him with her thighs, rubbing him with her soft smooth
silky gorgeous tan thighs, moving as he told her to, until he was spurting hard
and high and all over her legs, his gism splashing across those lovely round
sensuous thighs and Sylvia sobbing with degradation as Victor told her to rub
it into her skin. All of it all over her fine long thighs until it was

      The following year it was her breasts he used. That she used on him. That
he shot onto, that she rubbed his gism into. In the lobby.

      "All right, Dominick," Victor said. "Next Christmas you get a hole. Pick
a hole, Dominick."

      All year he had thought about it. Thought about fucking that fine
lubricious body. Thought about his cock in her tight resistant ass as she lay
over the hard marble desk. Thought about how she would look on all fours, an
animal at bay. And thought about having her crouching before him on her knees,
with his cock in her mouth. It had been difficult to decide. But Victor had
assured him, in Miss Rockham's presence of course, that what he didn't do the
first Christmas would still be available to him in the year following. "Sylvia
isn't going anyplace," Victor said. "Are you, Sylvia?"

      Sylvia was not looking at him. "No." Whispering, hating him. "I'm not
going anyplace."

      "And I don't expect you are planning to quit this job, are you,

      "Hell no."

      "I didn't think so. So I'll tell you what. Why don't we do it this way.
You think of everything that you'd like to do to her. Or that you'd like her to
do to you. And we'll make straws with them, and each Christmas we'll draw a
different straw, until they're all gone. How does that sound to you, Dominick?"

      Dominick was watching Miss Rockham cry silently. "Fine. Just fine."

      "How about you, Sylvia?"

      "Victor -- if I -- please --"

      "Now darling. It's fine with you, isn't it? I want you to tell Dominick
that it's fine with you."

      It took time for her to control herself enough to do it, and then Miss
Rockham looked at him. "Yes," she said, not hiding anything, not the pain, not
the hatred, not the shame, not the horror, not the debasement. "Yes. It's fine
with me."


      "That's five," Victor said. "How does it feel, Sylvia? It hurts, doesn't
it, darling? It's just agony, isn't it? It's so nice to see you this way,
Sylvia. Hurting and helpless. Twisting in pain. Trying to scream through that
gag. It turns me on something awful. And I know it turns Dominick on too.
You're going to have to do something about that, Sylvia. For both of us. Maybe
for both of us at once. Do you hear me, Sylvia?" Victor now let go of her
wrists and moved his hand into the sobbing twitching thrashing shouting woman's
hair, then pulled on it, forcing her head up so that she had to look at him,
bringing further muffled howls and cries from the stopped-up mouth. "Do you
hear me, Sylvia? Are you paying attention, you pain-filled slut?"

      Hurting, writhing, Miss Rockham frantically tried to indicate assent,
babbling desperately into her gag and even trying pathetically to nod her
straining head.

      "Why don't you fuck her, Dominick?" Victor said, still clutching her long
brown hair. "Rip those panties off and fuck her ass for her. You don't have to
stop whipping her either. Right, Sylvia?"

      He had fucked her ass first. That was the first straw. It was the first
time Victor had gagged her, because she couldn't stop screaming, bent over his
desk with his stiff cock all the way up her tight little anus. And the
following year he had fucked her cunt. No gag then. And then finally had come
the day when Miss Rockham had sucked his cock in the middle of the lobby, on
her knees, stark naked, crying, sobbing with each movement of her slowly
bobbing head, sobbing and moaning as he had told her to go slower, go faster,
use her tongue, swallow his gism. Victor had made her crawl that night too,
crawling on hands and knees around the lobby. Victor had made her lick the

      In following years he had had her in many ways. And finally, when their
imaginations had been exhausted, Victor had said, "All right, Dominick. Next
year you can punish her."

      "I don't want her ass," Dominick said. "I want her mouth. I love it when
she has to take my cock into her crying mouth, and how she has to suck on it
while she's sobbing because she hates it so much, and she's hurting and she's
degrading herself and how she has no choice."

      "She's got another lash coming," Victor said. "At least one more. But if
you don't want to stop, that's all right, isn't it, Sylvia?"

      Frantically shaking her head, howling with the pain in her scalp. Victor
with his free hand slapping her face hard, hard, back and forth, and again. "I
said isn't it, Sylvia, you cocksucking cunt whore? Isn't it?"

      "MMMMMPHHH! MMMMPPHHH!" Agonizingly jerking her head up and down, saying,
trying to say, yes, yes, yes, as her eyes said oh god no please god no no
please god I'll do anything no no no no no --

      "See that, Dominick?" Victor said. "Sylvia says you can go on whipping
her as long as you want to. But if you want to fuck her mouth I'll have to take
out the gag, obviously. So you should finish whipping her first. Of course we
can always put the gag back in and continue the whipping afterwards, can't we,

      Choking babbling incomprehensible sounds from behind that saliva-soaked

      "But do finish the official six first, Dominick. Just one more to go. And
I do think it should be a climactic one, don't you? On the breasts? Wouldn't
you like to whip Sylvia's breasts, Dominick?"

      Sylvia's eyes, wide, wild, frantic with terror. Horrifying sounds from
her throat. Trying to shake her head, squirming, writhing, kicking. Victor
slapping her again, hard, back and forth. "Be still, Sylvia. Just be still.
Still!" And with the worst sound yet, a diminishing moan of utter despair and
surrender to horror, Miss Rockham now stopped struggling, stopped moving, and
lay still on her stomach across Dominick's hard marble desk.

      "Now," Victor said, very softly. "I'm letting go of you, Sylvia." And he
did. "I'm not touching you." And he didn't. "I don't have to hold you, I don't
have to hit you, do I, Sylvia? It's fine, but it's not necessary. You will do
as I say without that. You know it and I know it, and Dominick here should know
it by now. You must do as I command, Sylvia. Anything and everything. Say yes,
Sylvia. Nod your head."

      And Miss Rockham nodded her head. Sobbing softly.

      "Show him," Victor said.. "Turn over, Sylvia. Roll over onto your back so
Dominick can whip your breasts."

      Miss Rockham's sobs turned to whimpers.

      "Now," Victor said so softly.

      Whimpering. Mewling. Shaking. Miss Rockham rolled slowly over. Dominick
looking down at that beautiful aristocratic twisting tear-wet face. Rolled all
the way over and lay on her back. With her skirt riding high on those fabulous
long legs and her shirt crumpled up to reveal her smooth stomach.

      "Unbutton the shirt, Sylvia. So Dominick can whip your bare breasts. Open
it, Sylvia."

      Fingers shaking, fumbling, whimpering. Unbuttoning the shirt. Pulling it
open. Hands hovering fearfully over the gorgeous high quivering taut breasts.

      "Hands down, Sylvia," Victor said.

      Sylvia lay there, whimpering. Eyes closed. Tightly.

      "Open your eyes, Sylvia."

      And she did. And Dominick raised the strap...

      How many years? Growing from young nubile girlishness to ripe luscious
womanhood and all of it his on Christmas, and Victor had said that soon he
would give her to him whenever he wanted her. Any time he could go up to Miss
Rockham's apartment and have her. Any way he wanted. He could call up first and
say, "I'm coming up. I want you to come to the door naked." Or "I want you on
your knees with your mouth open." Or "I want you spread on the bed on your
stomach with your pants off and your skirt around your waist." Or he could make
her come down to the lobby. God, he had visions of making Miss Rockham kneel
behind his desk, hidden from sight, sucking on his cock as people came in and
out, or he spoke to them and announced them and did what he had to do, and all
the time she sucking him on her knees...

could. Right across the hard pink nipples.

      "That's six," Victor said, as Miss Rockham's screaming howl was hardly
stifled by the gag, as Miss Rockham's body bucked and arched with agony, and
then Miss Rockham rolling uncontrollably fell off the desk and landed hard on
the floor. Moaning, crying, gasping through the gag, and writhing on the floor
like a cut worm, twisting, squirming, wriggling. With her skirt around her
waist and her shirt pulled half off, her round sensuous legs kicking
spasmodically, body curling up into a ball, then straightening spastically,
writhing, thrashing, helplessly jerking.

      "Look at that," Victor breathed. "Just look at that."

      And Dominick did, cock throbbing.

      And just at that point the thing that had haunted him down the years but
had never happened. Now happened. Three people came in to the lobby from
outside. Youths. College boys. Who had been out on the town. Loud. Boisterous.
Half drunk. Came through the doors and saw Miss Rockham mostly naked squirming
on the floor.

      They stopped short.

      "Holy Christ!" Staring.

      Dominick now dropping the strap, ready to fight them. Sylvia moaning
frightened into the gag, trying to rise, falling, trying to scrabble to her
knees. Victor calm though, reaching down to rip the gag from Sylvia's mouth.

      "Oh my god!" one of the boys said. "What the shit is going on here!"

      "It's all right," Victor said. "Everything's just fine. This lady is just
having a little party with us, that's all. Isn't that right, Sylvia?"

      "Christ, I know her! That's that rich lady on the top floor --"

      "Be cool, fellows. It's okay. Tell them it's okay, Sylvia."

      Miss Rockham now had managed to push herself onto all fours. She was
panting and gasping. She didn't raise her head, didn't look at any of them.
"Yes," she said, croaking, breathless. "It's all right. Oh god."

      "Jesus," another boy said. "Look at that."

      It was quite a sight. Miss Rockham on her hands and knees, head hanging,
hair loose and falling about her face, legs bare, breasts hardly covered by the
remains of the open shirt, panting.

      "Yes," Victor said. "It's something, isn't it, boys?" He was smiling. And
what was in his voice had communicated itself to Sylvia, who now began to
whimper again.

      "Now boys, we wouldn't want this to get around," Victor said, watching
them. "So maybe we can all join in the party. What do you think?"

      Miss Rockham started to cry.

      "Christ!" a boy said. "You mean she'll --"

      "Let me show you," Victor said. "Sylvia."

      Sylvia said, shaking, "Victor please anything I swear please no not that
please no Victor don't make me do this you can't oh god I'm Victor no for god's
sake anything I oh I god I I I --"

      "Sylvia," Victor said. "You see these fine young men over there? I think
they should have a Christmas treat too. Crawl to them, Sylvia. Don't get up.
Crawl to them on your hands and knees."

      So Sylvia, sobbing, moaning, gasping, crawled on all fours across the
floor of the lobby, until she was crouching near where the boys were standing.

      "You want to see what she will do?" Victor said. "Lick the floor, Sylvia.
Show us all what a low filthy whore slut obedient degraded cunt you are. Lick
the filthy floor with your tongue. And don't stop until I tell you to."

      And Miss Rockham licked the floor. With her tongue. And she was still
doing it when Victor said, "All right, guys. Anybody want that tongue to make
them happy now?"

      "Shit!" One boy unzipped his pants and let out a long thick hard cock.
"I'd fucking love it!"

      "Do it, Sylvia."

      Sylvia raised her head, looking at him. "Please." Whispering it. Shaking.
"Victor for god's sake please don't."

      "Do it," Victor said with such a tone that Dominick shivered. Miss
Rockham looked at him helplessly. Then turned her head in the direction of the
waiting youth. And opened her mouth. Taking that thick cock into it. And
licking it and sucking it. And choking as he thrust it hard into her throat,
and gagging, but holding on, crouching there on all fours as he fucked her sexy
mouth. Until he shouted and came. And Victor said, "Swallow, Sylvia. Swallow it
all. Let us all see you swallowing." And Miss Rockham swallowed what he gave
her. Slowly, so they all could watch.

      "All right," Victor said. "Who wants to fuck her in the ass?"

      The second boy did that, as she crouched for him, after she had pulled
her panties down for him at Victor's instruction. The third boy lay down on his
back and Miss Rockham got on top of him and straddled his hips and put his cock
into her vagina and fucked him. It got them all hard again, watching her,
moving up and down on him, moving slow, then fast, thighs pumping, breasts
bouncing and rolling, and she crying all the time, crying and gasping and
moaning, but fucking, until they all did it to her again, all at once, one in
her cunt, one in her ass, one in her mouth.

      Victor told them all to come back next Christmas.

      And then Victor made her suck Dominick off and then himself.

      "Do you want to whip her some more?" Victor said.

      "No. But --" And Dominick told him what he wanted. About his promise to
make Miss Rockham perform for him on command.

      "Why not?" Victor said. "You hear that, Sylvia? You will make yourself
available to Dominick any time he wants you, any way, any place. Understand? As
he says, he calls you and says I'm coming up and I want you naked, you do it.
He says I want to find you on your knees with your mouth open, you say yes,
sir. He wants you spread out on your stomach with your pants off and your skirt
up, you lie, you spread, you prepare. And if he wants you down here to suck on
his cock for a couple of hours as he sits behind his desk, you'll come down and
you'll do it and do it well. Is that all clear, Sylvia?"

      "Yes," Miss Rockham said flatly, expressionlessly, hopelessly. "That's

      "Good. I want you to take good care of her, Dominick. I want you to put
her through her paces. I'm sure you can keep her in her place. And if at any
time she gives you any trouble at all -- well, you just tell me. But I don't
think she will. Will you, darling?"

      Miss Rockham was beyond tears, but not beyond fear. She was sallow. "No,"
she whispered. "No. I won't, Victor. No."

      And she didn't.

                            (nc, rape, torture, etc)

WARNING: All Fantasia stories contain some or all of the following:
Non-consensual sex, rape, bondage, heavy pain, torture, incest, degradation,
underage characters. If these things offend you, don't read.


                                  THE DOORMAN
                                by V.P. Viddler

                                    Part Two

      Dominick was living in a phantasmagorical dream of lust. And power. He
did call her to say he would be at her apartment in five minutes and that he
wanted to walk in and find her on her knees in the hall with her mouth open.
And he did.

      The first time he made Miss Rockham hide under his desk and suck him on
her knees for hours as he did his job, he came six times down her throat. At
times he was afraid that people passing might hear her muffled sobbing, but
nobody did. At one point he had to piss badly, but didn't want to leave his
position. So he used her mouth.

      "I'm going to piss down your throat," Dominick said when nobody was in
hearing distance.


      "I didn't tell you to take your mouth away, Miss Rockham."

      "Oh no -- no -- you can't -- please --"

      "I am. And you take it all, you hear? Swallow it down. And don't throw
up. You got it?"

      "Please I can't no I can't do that look I please just --"

      "I can call Victor," Dominick said.

      A gasp. A whimper.

      "Should I do that?"

      "No! No. Please. No."

      "Will you do it, Miss Rockham? Will you swallow my piss all down?"

      "I -- I -- Yes." So softly.


      "Yes I will. Yes. Oh you filthy --"

      "Right now, Miss Rockham. I want that mouth around my prick right now."

      And he heard her sobbing as he felt her sweet soft trembling obedient
mouth take him in again. And with a great surge of exaltation Dominick pissed
into that mouth, pissed down that gasping throat, pissed and pissed until he
had no more piss to piss, and felt her swallowing, crying as she did, and he
laughing, loving the feeling of that throat working, working to drink his hated
disgusting piss into her belly. Gagging sounds. Sobs. Gagging. But that mouth
not moving from his cock.

      So now he could force Miss Rockham to do anything he could think of. And
one day he called her up. "What I want today," Dominick said, "is something a
little different, okay? You with me, Miss Rockham?"

      "What is it," she said wearily. It was such a thrill knowing that she had
to do anything he said, and that she knew it, and that she knew he knew it, and
that she hated it and had to do it anyway.

      "What I want," Dominick said, "Is to come up to your apartment and find
you hanging from the ceiling. By your wrists, you know? Your wrists tied
together and you dangling from that chandelier in your living room. Doesn't
that sound delicious, Miss Rockham?"

      "What -- how -- it --"

      "Stark naked, of course. So I can see that gorgeous body pulled all tight
and straining, and those fine round breasts pulling almost flat and your
stomach taut and your legs swinging -- your feet will be off the floor of
course -- just all of you hanging there, waiting for me. God, I can't wait to
see it!"

      She was panting. Fright. Fear. Hatred. Humiliation. "But it will --"

      "Hurt? Oh yes, I'll bet it will. Victor would love it, don't you think?"

      A gasp. "Oh god! But -- but how can I -- I can't do that -- I won't be
able to --"

      "Ah," Dominick said. "That's right. You won't be able to do that by
yourself, will you? I guess you'll just have to find help."

      "H-help? What -- what --"

      "Tell you what, Miss Rockham. You recall those three guys who were down
here in the lobby last Christmas?"

      "Oh god. Oh god no. Please no."

      "Now don't worry, see, two of them don't live here, they're just friends
of the third guy. But that guy, his name is Barry Trull and he lives in
apartment six J. Now, I think if you were to go down there and knock on the
door and ask this Barry Trull very nicely, he might just be willing to do that
little thing for you."

      "Oh my god! You can't -- you can't be --"

      "I can't? Why not, Miss Rockham? You're not shy, are you? Old Barry
didn't think you were shy when you were humping him in the lobby and sucking on
his friend's cock and taking his other pal up your ass."

      "Dominick -- please --"

      "Remember what I said, Miss Rockham. Stark naked. Hanging by your wrists.
Swinging. I'll be there at six o'clock. Don't disappoint me, Miss Rockham.
Because Victor said --"

      "Oh god wait please I can't I can't no listen I'll --"

      But Dominick had hung up.

      Trull knew why she was there. Dominick had told him obviously. A scraggly
pimply unattractive youth with bad breath. And she had to get him to put her
into bondage for Dominick.

      "Just what do you want me to do?" Trull said, and she had to tell him. in
detail. And she had to do it on her knees. He wouldn't allow her to talk
without being on her knees. So she knelt in front of him and she told him
exactly what Dominick wanted him to do with her, although he already knew. And
Trull said, "Sounds like an awful lot of trouble. What's in it for me?"

      "What --" holding back her tears and her shame and her disgust because
she had to do this. "What do you want?" Not that she didn't know, it was only a
question of which way and how many times and how horribly humiliating it was
going to be.

      "Old Dom is showing up at six," Trull said. "That's four hours from now.
I want you till five-thirty. At five-thirty I'll string you up just the way he
wants you and leave you for him. But until then I get you. All to myself. And
you do everything I want. And by god I'll use all of you, I can fucking promise
you that. Is it a deal?"

      Sylvia couldn't talk. But she nodded.

      And in those three and a half hours she did everything for him. From
licking his ass to drinking his piss. From wiping his gism off his cock with
her hair to taking him in her ass with her head in the toilet bowl. From
crawling at his feet to sucking off his dog. And finally he took her back
upstairs and obligingly bound her wrists tight and flung the rope over the
chandelier in her living room and hauled her up until her feet were well clear
of the floor, her arms pulling almost out of her shoulders, her body taut and
straining and helplessly arousing, her breasts tight and high, her legs kicking
wildly, then dangling, all of her swaying, stretching, turning slowly, slowly
in the wind.

      "Notice I didn't put a mark on you," Trull said as he was going.
"Dominick wants you unmarred. I had to restrain myself. But --" And he was
grinning at her --  "but that's okay. I'll have you again when he's finished
with you. He's going to leave you right there for me, just that way. He told
me." And Sylvia started to scream, and, laughing, he was out the door.

      It was sheer agony hanging there. Horror. She must pass out. But she
didn't. And at six o'clock Dominick came in.

      "Christ!" Dominick said. "What a sight! What a fucking fantastic
tremendous fabulous sight!"

      "Please," Miss Rockham said, moaning. "Oh god what -- what are you going
to --"

      "I'm going to hurt you," Dominick said. "I was thinking about how much I
enjoyed hurting you with Victor, and now Victor isn't here, just us. And I want
to hurt you, Miss Rockham. I thought about your snobby stuck-up asristocratic
body for years and then I got to fuck it. And now I've had that body over and
over, in every way there is. And I've hurt it too. But not like I'm going to
hurt it today. Down in the lobby Victor always had to gag you so you couldn't
scream and attract passers-by. But there will be no gag today, Miss Rockham.
Today you can scream all you want. And you will. You're going to scream your
sexy little guts out for me, Miss Rockham. And I'm going to love it. I'm going
to drink it in like music."

      "I'll give you anything," Miss Rockham said. She was sweating and hurting
and her voice was shaking and strained. "Listen, Dominick, I'll give you
anything you want. I can make you rich, Dominick. I can make you into a rich
man, and --"

      "Do you want me to call Victor?" Dominick said.

      "No. No! God no."

      "Well now," Dominick said. "I can call old Victor, right here, with this
phone. Or I can hurt you. Which will it be, Miss Rockham? You choose. Which
shall I do?"

      "Hurt me," Miss Rockham said.

      "Ask me nicely," Dominick said.

      "Please hurt me, Dominick," Miss Rockham said. "Please make me scream for
you. Please."

      "All right, Miss Rockham. Sylvia. All right. I will do that."

      And he did. For a long time. And she screamed all right. Until she was
hoarse, and still she didn't stop screaming. And finally he fucked her. Not
bothering to take her down, just fucking Miss Rockham just as she was, standing
in back of her with his hands clamping her breasts, bringing howls from her
howling mouth, with his cock up her ass and her body bucking and twisting and
her long curving shapely smooth luscious soft alluring legs twitching and

      And at last Dominick was finished with her. Miss Rockham could hardly
talk, but when he picked up the phone to call Trull she begged him not to leave
her for him. "Oh, I won't," Dominick said. "I'm going to stay and watch." And
that's what he did too.

      "Not that," Miss Rockham was saying. "Not that. Don't let him do that.
Please, Dominick, don't let him. Please dear god I'm begging you. You can't let
him do that to me dear sweet god no."

      "Isn't it fine when they beg that way?" Trull said. His cock was hard

      "Yeah," Dominick said. "But hey, man, why don't you just whip her some
more? I was really digging the way she was jerking around and kicking and
howling when you laid that springy bamboo across her back. And when you whacked
it across her breasts, Christ, I was coming in my pants."

      "So now I'm gonna try something else. So what? This will really make her
shout, man."

      "But you're gonna mark her up that way. Not just those pretty stripes
acorss her body, man, but permanent marks, you know?"

      "So what? I'm gonna turn those tits into ashes, man. Charred black humps
of scar fucking tissue. And then I'll start on her legs, baby. Now if you want
to stick your cock inside that body while I'm putting some of these things out
on her, man, you'll get the wildest ride of your life."

      "Call Victor," Sylvia said. "I'd rather have Victor than that."

      "Why not?" Dominick said.

      "No," Victor told him. "I don't want Sylvia to have scars. But I am not
one to spoil a party. If you want to burn someone, I'll send a girl over for

      "Shit," Dominick said. "Too much."

      And Victor was as good as his word. In ten minutes the doorbell rang. It
was a girl. A young girl. A high school girl. Looking like the young Brigitte
Bardot with her long blonde hair and pouty lips and lovely face and superb
body. And she was trembling all over. And could hardly get out the words she'd
been commanded to say. "I -- Victor sent me for you. Victor says you can do
anything to me you want. He says don't worry about scars. Victor says you can
burn me all you want. And that I scream very loudly." She was crying. "And I
fuck like a million dollars."

      "Holy shit," Trull said. "What's your name, darling?"

      "Penny." Crying.

      "Can you suck cock, Penny?"

      "Yes." Crying.

      "I think," Dominick said, "I would like to stretch Penny out on Miss
Rockham's four-poster bed and tie her spread-eagled, very tightly, and strip
her body bare, and put my cock inside her and let you put out those cigarettes
of yours all over her young luscious voluptuous mouth-wateringly nubile body.
And I will lie on top of that body with my cock all the way up her tight little
cunt and I will feel that body wriggle every time you grind a burning cigarette
slowly out into Penny's delicious young flesh. Feel it bucking and twisting and
writhing and thrashing and squirming, feel it straining upwards, desperately
pulling against the tight unyielding bonds, all of it straining and arching and
spasming with pain. As she screams and shrieks and howls and shouts to bring
the walls down."

      Penny was crying and shaking.

      "I want her to suck me off with that crying mouth," Trull said.

      "Take me down," Miss Rockham said. "For pity's sake please take me down."

      "No," Dominick said. "You can hang there and watch."

      First they told the girl to strip for them, but as she was doing it both
of them whipped her, Trull whipping her round ass with his springy bamboo so
that she had to keep jumping and twisting around, and Dominick using a thin but
vicious cord to lash at her hands as she was trying to undo buttons and snaps
and laces. So that it was a most agonizing process for the girl and took a long
long time. But finally Penny was naked and crawling around the room on hands
and knees as they lashed at that pitiful crying degraded body. Then Trull
indeed got his wish as he fucked Penny's sobbing mouth and as he did so
Dominick took her up the ass, clutching at her round firm breasts, pinching the
nipples, clamping the breasts hard, making the girl cry out and moan around
Trull's cock until it shot its gism far down her throat. And finally they bound
her to the bed and did what they had said they would do and Penny's howls shook
the walls.

      "Take Sylvia down and put Penny up there, how about it?" Trull said.

      "Upside down," Dominick said.

      So Sylvia was put on her knees, wrists still bound, and Penny was hung up
by her ankles, her hair falling down to hang in midair, Trull pulling her up
until her face was level with his crotch. Holding her by the nipples to keep
her from turning, he was fucking her pouty crying upside-down mouth.

      "Miss Rockham," Dominick said. "If I told you to go down to the lobby
right now, just as you are, and suck off the doorman on duty down there, what
would you do?"

      "I would do it," Miss Rockham said.

      "Do you want to?"


      "Shall I make you?"


      "Do it, Miss Rockham. Right now. Just like that. Stark naked, wrists
tied, whip marks all over you, hurting and exhausted and shamed and sick and so
debased you can't even think about it. Go down there and go to your knees on
the floor and ask that doorman if you can suck his cock until he comes down
your throat. And give him the best blowjob you ever gave anybody. Go."

      And Miss Rockham did just that. That.

      Dominick left Barry Trull happily fucking a screaming Penny on the floor.
By now there was harldy a square inch on the young girl's body that was not
marked by angry burns. Trull, fucking her, was deliberately thrusting and
grinding and pounding his body against hers, so that each thrust brought
unbearable agony as her tortured body was roughly abraded both front and back.
And yet Trull was making her curl her legs around him and move hard with his
rhythm, contributing to her own continuous pain. "Damn," Dominick had said a
moment ago, "there's a small patch of thigh right here that hasn't been burned
yet." "Well Christ," Trull said, panting. "Do something about it." And he had,
greatly adding to Trull's pleasure as Penny's writhings and twistings became
even more frantic with that glowing cigarette pressing into her soft spasming

      Dominick now went down to the lobby. The night doorman had a goofy grin
on his face. Behind his desk Sylvia was still kneeling, as he had last seen
her, naked, hands tied.

      "I take it you've carried out your commission," Dominick said.

      "Jesus shit Christ!" the night man said. "Do you know what she --"

      "Yes. I do. Was it the best you've ever had?"

      "Hell, yes!"

      "It's a good thing."

      "My wrists hurt," Sylvia said.

      "Good," Dominick said. "But actually, Miss Rockham, I think you would
look still better if those hands were tied in back of you."

      "Can I do it?" the night man said.

      "No. Sylvia. Go upstairs and ask Trull to do that for you. Do whatever
you have to do to get him to do it. Then come back."

      "Oh god," Sylvia said. "Oh you bastard." And slowly she got up and walked
to the elevator.

      It was a while until she came back. With her hands bound behind her.
Tightly. And walking painfully. Dominick watched her breasts jiggle as she

      "What did you have to do?"

      Sylvia swallowed. "I -- I fucked him."

      "That's it?"

      "No. First I had to -- I had to stand still while he -- he burned me --"

      "What! But Victor said no scars!"

      "I -- that was -- he -- did it where it wouldn't leave any scars."

      "Christ! You mean right up your --"

      "Yes. And then I had to fuck him."

      "Sounds damn painful," Dominick said. "And you can fuck me too. Right

      "Oh no."

      But Dominick was sitting down, his cock out. "Right across my lap, Miss
Rockham. Hurry up."

      "Oh you bastard," Sylvia said, coming to him. "Oh you filthy pig." Crying
now, awkwardly straddling his lap with her hands bound behind her. Gasping as
with her feet on the chair rungs she raised herself for his stiff cock. "Ah!
Ahh! God! Oh you -- ahhh!" Crying out in pain as she lowered that shaking body
onto him.

      "Holy Jesus H.!" the night man said.

      "Move it, Miss Rockham," Dominick said. "Up and down, that's it. Just a
bit faster. That's great. I bet it hurts, right, Sylvia? Oh yes, I bet that
hurts just awful."

      "You scum," Miss Rockham said, moving. "You filthy scum!" Up and down.
Sobbing. Gasping. "Oh god it hurts! Let me stop. Please let me stop."

      "No, Sylvia. Don't you dare stop." Dominick grasped a handful of her long
dark hair and with it pulled her head back forcefully.


      "If I want you to keep moving, you're going to keep moving. Aren't you,
Miss Rockham?" Jerking the hair down, forcing her head sharply back. "Aren't

      "Augghh! Yes! Yes! I am. Oh please. Yes. I am. I will. I'm sorry. Oh god

      "Harder," Dominick said. And Miss Rockham obeyed him.

      "Miss Rockham," Dominick said, as she, moaning, gasping, sobbing, did his
bidding. "I'm going to call Victor and ask him for one more Christmas present.
It's going to be a party. A Christmas party. Right here in the lobby. And this
whole building will get invitations. Actually it will be a sort of a Christmas
orgy. And who do you think will be the Santa Claus?"

      "No," Miss Rockham said. "Oh no. Not that. You couldn't --"

      "But Victor could. He might supply us with other girls, like Penny. I can
see them bound up against the walls, like ornaments. At the disposal of the
guests. But the main attraction will be you, Miss Rockham. A gift for
everybody. Anybody who wants you. In any way. All night long."

      "No no no no no no no."

      "Yes, Sylvia. Now kiss me, Miss Rockham."

      Kissed by a sobbing mouth, Dominick opened his lips so that Sylvia,
knowing she must, would put her warm quivering tongue into his mouth. Forcibly
making love to him with her soft lips and probing tongue and crying mouth.

      And on Christmas Victor had Miss Rockham submit to all who wanted her,
which included all the male tenants of the building and a lot of folks from
outside. All night long a sobbing, degraded, crawling woman was sucking and
fucking and using all of that spectacular body. And all Christmas day Victor
had Miss Rockham standing in the lobby like a Christmas tree, stark naked, her
body streaming with gism like tinsel, her nipples an angry tortured red like
ornamental lights, her magnificent legs spread apart to display her gift to the
public, hanging by her hair, which was lashed to the big lobby chandelier.

      "Dominick," Victor said. "I don't think I've gotten around to your
Christmas tip yet. Allow me to make up for that. This is Priscilla."

      She was young and beautiful with a body that stopped his heart. And she
was frightened.

      "Priscilla has the most fabulous legs," Victor was saying. "Don't you,
darling. Just step back so Dominick can see all of them. And lift your skirt."

      Priscilla was moaning.

      "Now next Christmas..."