The Erotic Quest of Dirk and Honey (14 page)

Disa stepped forward as if greeting an old friend.
“Madame Nadezlida Filaretovna, I would like to present a dear friend, Honey Wildon.”

The woman strode to them with surprising grace, her large round hips swaying like a chorus girl’s. “Are you Honey Wildon,
the writer?” she asked in a gruff voice quite at home in the lower registers.

“Yes I am,” Honey hastened to say.

“No writers allowed,” the madame said, and turned to Disa with a friendly grin. “But you, my sweet, are always welcome.”

Honey pulled herself up to her full height. “I am not here as a writer,” she protested. “I came to ask you a personal favor.”

The beefy madame swung her masked head back to stare openly at Honey. “I do not trust the duplicity of writers.”

“But I assure you on my parents’ graves, I have not come here as a writer but as a woman who needs your help.”

“
My
help?” the madame questioned in obvious amusement. “All my people come to me for help.”

Honey smiled warmly. “But I do not seek sexual help, only information. About one of your regulars. Henri Bouscaral.”

In the holes of the mask, the madame’s eyes narrowed. “I
never
divulge anything about any of my clients.”

“Even if it might mean saving an innocent child?” Disa broke in, all golden charm and enticing persuasion. “Honey, show Nadez
the photo.”

Hastily Honey displayed Dirk’s snapshot of Kolina and explained her fears that the girl had been kidnapped and was being held
against her will by Henri Bouscaral. The madame looked to Disa for confirmation. “Is this true?” she asked. Disa agreed readily,
adding that she wouldn’t have brought her there if Honey were not trustworthy and
loyal. The madame eyed Honey with new appraisal and took a sip from her long-forgotten goblet. “If you want information, you
must pay dearly for it.”

“Anything you ask,” Honey replied, opening her purse.

The madame laughed heartily. “Not with money, but with your body. You must prove to me that you are truly an aficionado of
all kinds of pleasures. Only then will I speak of Henri.”

Honey tossed a titillated glance at Disa, who shrugged, smiling her agreement. “It seems only fair, Honey. Madame, I will
leave her in your very capable hands and go myself to partake of your palace of fine arts.” She hurried to the hall door and
threw a wink at Honey. “Enjoy yourself,
liebchen
. I’ll meet you back at the hotel.” With that she exited.

Honey shrugged at the huge madame and decided what the hell. There was very little that she hadn’t tried, and even less that
she hadn’t enjoyed. “Where do I begin?”

“By stripping at once.”

Honey, eager to prove her worth, pulled her Pucci dress over her head and stepped out of her heels, displaying her perfectly
formed breasts with a bold grin. “What next?”

As if surprised at the suddenness with which her request had been met, Madame Nadezlida Filaretovna stared at the flawless
body before her. Her eyes widened with wonderment in the mask holes, and a stubby pink tongue ran over her thick lips. Slowly,
deliberately, she made a complete tour around Honey and returned to face her with a pleased grin. “What a pretty package you
are, my sweet. A welcome addition to any house. Follow me.”

Knees quaking with anticipation, Honey managed to move after the heavy body crammed into the tight corset. Nadez touched a
concealed release in the gold-flocked wall, and a hidden panel slide back noiselessly, revealing a narrow passage. The big
woman squeezed into the opening,
and Honey followed. At once the panel closed behind them. A flight of stairs led downward, and the farther they descended,
the warmer it became. On a lower level, the madame stopped, turned to her captive audience, and pulled a small half-mask over
Honey’s face. “This is your first test. Remember, I will be watching your every move.”

Honey smiled gamely. “I’m looking forward to proving my worthiness.”

Nadez pushed a spot on the wall and another panel opened. Honey stepped through the doorway and found herself in a steamy
communal shower. People were soaping and lathering each other’s bodies, the men’s pricks as hard as the white bars of soap,
which were in plentiful supply. Almost immediately, Honey was surrounded by slippery, rubbing bodies. She was sandwiched between
two men—one tall, with a rigid cock the size of a good-sized cucumber, the other short but possessing an even larger tool,
fat and brown like a potato. The men soaped her ripe body with loving care, not missing a centimeter of her fair skin as they
slid their hard members up and down her limbs. Loving the tactile sensation, Honey returned their amorous attentions and,
grabbing their cocks, jerked them to an easy climax.

She eased away from them and, pushing through the wet tangle of human flesh, exited the shower at the far end, to find herself
in a warm room whose walls and floor were covered entirely in soft gray carpet. Thick white towels were folded neatly on a
bench next to a standing young man whose towel was draped over his stiff pole as if it were hanging from a special wall rack.
Playfully she grabbed the towel from his pleasing prick and began drying herself. The masked young man slipped behind her
and gently bent her forward over the bench. She gasped with pleasure as she felt his hot, hard meat slip with ease
into her still-wet channel. Simultaneously toweling her luxurious locks dry, she pushed back onto his driving dick and felt
herself rocketing upward into the fleecy clouds of lustful enjoyment. She placed her hands on the bench and, her breasts swinging
beneath her, rode his pounding peter for all she was worth. Soon he creamed into her with such a load that she felt her ditch
overflowing. He pulled out and patted her ass with a friendly “Thank you.” She swung upright, still unsatisfied, and wiped
the damp towel between her legs.

The other door leading from the gray-carpeted room brought her into a dimly lit corridor of many doors, each containing a
small sign labeling the room behind it, as well as a small window through which one could view a portion of the goings-on.
Brimming with curiosity and unfulfilled desires, she made her way down the hall, glancing both at the signs and through the
small windows.

Shaking her head in wonderment, but not as yet inclined to partake of anything she had observed, Honey reached a carpeted
staircase and climbed it. At its top she found a large room filled with medieval torture devices. Flickering torches cast
a gloomy light over the damp brick walls, revealing a number of naked, heated bodies in various stages of orgasmic delight.
One fat man who looked like a judge was laughing loudly while being birched repeatedly by a tiny woman who swung the thin
stick with enthusiasm. Another man was being fist-fucked by an aggressive young woman, and still another man had his cock
wrapped in leather thongs tied to a revolving wheel, which was pulling him off. The ecstatic grin on his face assured Honey
that he too was enjoying the hell out of his “torture.” One woman was hanging from the ceiling by her heels in leather stirrups,
and she was blowing a man lying beneath her on a large block of ice. A guy with
overdeveloped muscles, like a Greek statue come to life, was beckoning to Honey, his small hard cock bobbing at her.

Entranced by his welcoming smile as well as his body, she sashayed over to him and he pointed to an oddly designed leather
sling chair hanging from the ceiling on slender silver chains. Definitely curious, and remembering that she was being tested
by Nadez, Honey clambered into the contraption, which had a hole in it for her ass and vagina to hang down. The cool leather
sling was more comfortable than it looked, and she was just adjusting her position when it rose in the air, lifting her upright,
her sexual organs swaying in the breeze. Below her on a small table, the body-builder lay on his back, holding his dinky dork
upright. Slowly she was lowered over him until she felt his tiny tool enter her wide-open pussy.

Gradually the sling chair began to swing in a slow circle, revolving her around on the muscleman’s meat. The sensation was
so unique, to be floating in the air while being serviced, that she began to feel her labia moistening with joy juice. The
guy’s dick may have been small, but it was positioned perfectly; each revolution of her cunt brought his cock in contact with
her clitoris, raising the temperature of her pussy to unbelievable heights. Hanging on to the chains holding her sling chair,
she swung around and around, feeling dizzy not only from the constant circular motion, but also from the lusts raging in her
furnace. Abandoning herself to the absolute bliss of the moment, she threw back her head and hung on, her eyes closing with
rapture.

The intensely pleasurable agony kept building within her, and she longed to be free to jump up and down on his deliciously
delicate dork. But she was a captured prize and could only hang on for the duration of the funhouse
ride. Each maddening slow revolution inched her closer to climax, and the exquisite sensation soared her higher and higher.
Just when she thought she would go insane from the intensity of the experience, she suddenly reached her longed-for goal.
Shrieking her relief and delight, she began to come, whirling round and around, flooding the budlike head of the small prick
embedded in her.

She was not released from the confining leather sling until after the muscleman had also climaxed with a healthy spurt. Shaking
dizzily, she climbed out of the sporting chair and kissed the man gratefully. She staggered out of the room and walked directly
into a large, darkened orgy room carpeted with writhing bodies.

Drained but still game, Honey piled onto the amorphous mass of flesh and soon felt greedy, wet mouths on every part of her
body, as well as exploring fingers and toes. Hard pricks pushed into her soft skin everywhere, and she found new energy coursing
through her aroused system. Latching on to the first available pussy, she began eagerly to suck at the tender lips. In no
time her liquids were flowing again, and she longed for one of the hardened cocks to be inside her. Almost at once her wish
was granted twofold. One shoved into her pulsating pussy, another inched into her anus. A different mouth was chewing on each
of her breasts, and her own mouth was eating the tasty cunt hovering over her face. Honey’s sensual circuits were soon overloaded.
She felt as if she were one large orifice, filled to overflowing with an immensely enjoyable ardor.

She had no idea how long she had been indulging her desires, but when she finally managed to extricate herself and stumble
out of the room, she caught a glimpse of the rising sun through a leaded-glass window. Sweet exhaustion blanketed her as she
showered in still another area.
Emerging from the drying area, she was pleased to see a smiling Nadezlida Filaretovna standing like the Rock of Gibraltar
before her.

“My apologies, Miss Wildon, for not trusting you,” the madame said jovially. “You are a true connoisseur of kink. Come with
me, please.”

Bolstered by the praise, Honey followed her down the stairs into a private dressing room, where her own clothes were neatly
hung. As Honey pulled on her dress, Nadez lit a cigar and puffed thoughtfully. “You ask after Henri Bouscaral,” she began
in her thick Russian accent. “What is it you wish to know?”

“Merely where I might find him,” Honey said breathlessly. “I only want to help the girl, not bring any harm to him.”

Nadez nodded silently and blew a ring of smoke in her direction. “I have no idea where the Prince of Kink is. But perhaps
I can tell you where you might eventually find him. There are two things I know he has on his schedule of worldwide pursuits,
two areas he has often mentioned that he would like to experience.”

“Any clue would be a help, Nadez.”

“The first is a trio of Chinese acrobats in Shanghai, a set of triplets widely known for their sexual athletics. I only know
them by name—the Mee-Lan triplets.”

Honey quickly made a mental note and stepped into her heels. “And the second possibility?”

“Henri often said he wanted to partake of this year’s debauching of the Sisters of the Moon,” the madame replied. “A strange
order of nuns whose convent is in the mountains outside of Sofia, Bulgaria.”

“When does this debauching take place?”

“Every ten years, on the first full moon of May.”

“Why, that’s in less than a week,” Honey exclaimed, and spontaneously kissed a plump cheek of the Queen
of Kink. “Thank you, Nadez. I thoroughly enjoyed my evening at your establishment.”

The mountain of womanhood laughed heartily. “
That
was most obvious. I never saw a newcomer get into the swing of things with so much enthusiasm. Please, come again. You are
welcome anytime, my beauty.”

Nervously she patted her cheeks, making certain the false beard and mustache were firmly in place. Hiking up the belly pad
that helped transform her decidedly feminine body into a closer facsimile of a man’s, Honey joined the line of men on the
rocky path. The chartered bus from Sofia had just dropped them off at the end of the state road. Now the rest of the journey
was to be on foot. As the winding path was steep and treacherous, Honey was glad she’d been able to locate a pair of sturdy
walking shoes in her size.

The boisterous pilgrims soon quieted down as the trek up the heavily wooded mountainside became more arduous. Soon they were
strung out single file, with Honey laboring near the tail end, just in front of the more elderly men. She was dressed in baggy
old clothes she’d purchased that very morning in Bulgaria’s capitol city of Sofia: a large checked sports coat worn over a
garishly patterned
Hawaiian shirt and plaid wool pants. On her head she wore a floppy slouch hat, her hair tied up with a scarf under the short-cut,
scraggly brown wig. Spirit gum held the itchy full beard and mustache in place. Thus far her odd disguise had drawn little
attention, and she’d been readily accepted by the stalwart group of men as merely another sexually curious male.