The late Ian Fleming's James Bond and the highly rated television series, The Man From Uncle and The Girl From Uncle, offer vivid examples of the fairly recent popularity of the tales of swashbuckling espionage agents who perform many a "mission impossible". During the 1950s, we had the feature movie Foreign Intrigue and a TV series of the name.
However, the general theme of "foreign intrigue" has been with us for centuries, and fascinated the imagination of many a writer. In his Canterbury Tales ("The Knight's Tale"), written in the fourteenth century, the renowned Geoffrey Chaucer introduced to the world the term "Cloak and Dagger" as being associated with the business of international espionage.
One might wonder if the producers of the World War Two movie, Cloak and Dagger (starring the late Gary Cooper), knew the origin of the title. "The smylere with the knyfe under the cloke" was the way Chaucer expressed it in his middle-English style over 500 years ago.
Since then, the spy story in a setting of foreign intrigue has remained a successful staple of the fiction writer. A more contemporary theme to be found in many novels is that of the airline stewardess as a type of female whose life is filled with adventure, high romance and also a bit of foreign intrigue, if she works for an international carrier.
Within the last several years, the frequency of real-life drama provided by the airplane hijack has added still another factor that can be combined with the elements of foreign intrigue and the stewardess to produce potent fiction. But it is surely fiction based on fact as much so as the documented books of the same nature which occasionally appear on the market today.
In her novel, The Hostage Stewardesses, Jacqueline Bourdeaux has neatly combined the three themes into one story that is as timely as today's (and tomorrow's) headlines. Of course, not every airline stewardess is a Lorna Fontana or a Sharon Dunlap. Not every espionage agent is like Boris, Julian or the others in Miss Bourdeaux's gripping tale. To mention the others would be to give away the story's most unusual climax, as well as the unique twist of circumstances that makes it so different from all other reading in this range.
It would, indeed, be difficult to fault The Hostage Stewardesses by attempting to take the characters less than seriously. For every hundred or so stewardesses, who lead routine and average lives at work and away, there are undoubtedly one or more whose reactions to life are similar to those of Lorna and Sharon. For every hundred or more espionage agents who dully pound the pavements, interview everyday people, research foreign press and broadcast reports, there are two or three who may commit overt acts of sabotage, torture, sexual degradation, and even murder.
Who is to say that these two minority types of stewardesses and agents might not clash in an act of international airline hijacking? Miss Bour-deaux has created just such a situation, and she knows and exposes the roots of her character's behavior in a highly interesting and intriguing format.
The Publisher
CHAPTER ONE
"A hijack! Another hijack!" the twenty-two-year-old blonde screamed as she ran into Lorna's bedroom from the kitchen. "I just heard it on the all-news station! Arab terrorists again! They blew up one of our tran-Atlantic flights! Over a hundred people killed ... including the co-pilot and two stewardesses! What will we do, Lorna! My first time out is on the Paris flight tomorrow...."
"Don't be childish and ridiculous, Sharon!" the twenty-six-year-old Lorna admonished her new apartment mate, strutting around the room provocatively in a sexy new outfit. "I've been flying the trans-Atlantic since Dad was a pilot on the old DC-6s. I was born to fly, Sharon! And I don't even want to hear about hijacks! The radio station must be handling old news, anyway. That hijack happened yesterday. I read about it in the morning paper. Sure ... it happens. But it won't happen to us! I'll be with you on the Paris flight tomorrow. We're working first class together. I'll protect you, little girl."
"I'm glad, too ... glad you'll be with me on my first time," the perky, pleasingly top-heavy young blonde said, naively unaware that her black, hotpants romper set and over-ankle white boots made her as erotic in appearance as the shapely and more worldly and sophisticated brunette. "I'm just so excited! I've flown to Europe a dozen times ... and I spent a year at the Sorbonne in Paris! But coming on as a stewardess is something else! I've always wanted to be a free soul ... like you! I used to just idolize the pretty stewardesses when I flew. It's a dream come true now...."
Lorna Fontana tossed back her long, black hair and smiled at the rookie "stew". Sharon was so innocent and fragile ... or was she? Lorna knew that the younger girl had come from a rich family, had a degree in languages, and had a turn-on personality. In fact, Lorna realized, she might be secretly jealous of the blonde Southern girl. The Captains and First Officers would love her, try everything to take away the cherry that Sharon swore she still had.
The skimpy toreador outfit that Sharon wore competed for sexiness with Lorna's purple nylon sleepshirt, which revealed most of her full thighs but prevented a look at her coveted pussy with a pair of ultra-briefs in the same color. Lorna measured 36-34-36, but her breasts were firmly in proportion. She could get by easily without wearing a bra, although her excited nipples usually pushed through the outer fabric tantalizingly.
Sharon was built differently, but no less excitingly. She had lost her innocence temporarily one night by proving to Lorna that she taped in at 34-20-33. And Sharon was a smaller girl, too. Her oversize breasts demanded at least the holding-pattern of the white nylon top that she wore under the gaping black toreador jacket.
The two girls looked each other in the eyes for a moment and each experienced a strange and incredible excitement. Lorna looked away and posed her olive-toned body suggestively in the full-length mirror on the closet door. She had known so many girls like Sharon during her several years as a stewardess on the New York to Paris flights. Some got married; others had uncontrollable crotches and were fired because they put the make on male passengers too obviously. And Lorna had known a few stews who were simply incompetent and were fired after their three-month probabation.
Sharon was something different, and Lorna had at least subconsciously sensed it from the first day that they met. The young blonde was beautiful, sexy, lovable, and she seemed the type of girl who would never let the more unpleasant parts of being an airline stewardess get her down. She could probably smile very prettily while helping mothers with dirty diapers on the seven-hour flights. And, Lorna thought, the twenty-two-year-old could handle herself admirably in the presence of the groping hands and hungry invitations of moneyed businessmen who commuted from New York to Europe as easily as they might take the club-car to and from Manhattan and Long Island daily.
Sharon had intelligence, too, being fluent in German and French, as well as her native English, which was a must for the stews on the trans-Atlantic run. But while Lorna had learned to get along in many languages and had lived all over Europe with her trans-Atlantic pilot father, because her mother had died of complications during her birth, Sharon had learned it all at the most expensive schools and colleges in the world. Sharon had received more money from her parents as a mere allowance while studying at the Sorbonne in Paris than she would earn as a stewardess.
Yet, Lorna couldn't help but like and admire Sharon Dunlap. They shared a similar craving for adventure, a need to escape from the more mundane and unpleasant vicissitudes of life by total involvement, daring. They were desperate to be different from the "average" girl, but wanted to retain a very maximum of femininity. Sharon could have married any of dozens of rich and handsome young men. Instead, she fled from the financial luxury and security that her father could provide indefinitely. The famous millionaire was a manufacturer of the most sophisticated guidance systems. J. Joseph Dunlap was also known for his invention and exclusive patent of the strategic TABM, the acutely accurate Tracer Anti-Ballistic Missile guidance system that could spell the difference between American or Soviet superpower supremacy.
The differences between the two girls were actually minor, Lorna felt. She wanted to befriend Sharon and perhaps help in "molding her life," bringing out her sense and feeling for adventure and kicks, until it equaled her own.
Lorna had readily agreed to partner with Sharon at her one-bedroom apartment in New York's East Forties and at the more Continental suite that she had rented just off the Boulevard St. Germaine on Paris' Left Bank. Her former parther had married a rich passenger, and Lorna needed another stew on the same flight to share expenses. The airline provided hotel bills on turnaround, which was in Paris, but Lorna liked to have her own place in both cities. She was able to maneuver her schedules so that her Paris turnarounds could be stretched to days instead of hours. And Lorna loved Europe because she had been brought up there with a procession of nannies and governesses.
More than anything or anybody else, though, Lorna loved her father, the man who had always taken care of her, provided her with the best things in life that he could, let her sit up in first class on a space-available basis from Europe to the U.S. since she had been a toddler, and the DC-6 stewardesses treated her like a real V.I.P. Why? Lorna only realized later that her father had been the most sought-after Captain on the airline. The stews had wanted him for a lover, or more, so they did everything possible to make his daughter happy and comfortable, hoping that the girl would put in a good word for them.
"Lorna?" Sharon said with a sudden question mark that brought back reality, admiring both their scantily clad bodies in the mirror. "You must have been thinking about your father. Have you heard anything new from Jim? Do you think your father may still be alive?"
"Maybe ... but it's only grabbing at long-range possibilities," Lorna replied, a pained expression disturbing her naturally beautiful face. "Jim's my doll. But I don't think he could find out anymore from the Air Force than I have. 'Missing in Action' ... 'MIA'. They've brought back the POW's from Vietnam. How could my father possibly still be alive....?"
Lorna suddenly threw back her hair and twisted her hips seductively, slapping Sharon lightly on the creamy ass. The older girl was jealous of the way that the younger blonde's upper thighs vibrated in such an intriguing counterbalance to the swaying breasts. Lorna was also desperate for escape! She didn't want to remember that her handsome, lovable, wonderful, forty-seven-year-old father had remained in the Reserves and had been called back to active duty a few years before.
It was a genuine struggle to force back the tears. Bomber Pilot, Colonel J. S. Fontana, had been reported missing in action over Hanoi. Why hadn't he resigned his commission? Why hadn't he forgotten the glory-years of World War Two when he was a Captain in the former Army Air Force at the age of twenty and had flown so many missions over Hitler's Nazi Germany? Lorna knew that J. S. Fontana wasn't made that way. He was a flyer, a pilot! He was born to fly and he was born to serve his country. She knew that he exacted a great amount of personal glory. But he was sincere, unafraid, a real man!
Could it be possible that her father was still alive, that he was a POW? The Commies had released all the other pilots, so the reports indicated. Could it be that Colonel Fontana hadn't been released because he was also an Intelligence officer? In that case, they would have tortured him to death by now, Lorna figured. No matter what Jim Dutton told her to keep up hope, there was the awful, nagging, logical situation that kept her in a turmoil. He must be dead, but she couldn't deny the hope, the desperate wish that Jim Dut-ton might know something that she didn't.
Who was Jim Dutton? He was the sandy-haired, lean and muscular co-pilot with whom Lorna flew to Paris and returned with from Paris several times a month. Jim was the kind of man that Lorna turned on to with no prompting at all. He was so virile and potent, and he could fuck her better than any male that she had ever known! The thirty-two-year-old "God's gift to females" brought her orgasms that she had previously considered unobtainable, impossible! And Jim was in the Air Force Reserves, too. At the same time that her father had been flying over the Communist enemy in Vietnam in a bomber, Jim had been providing fighter support.
Was Jim Dutton a father figure? Lorna wondered. He was probably married, she had guessed, although he usually stayed in one of the hotels that the airline had reserved for flight personnel, whether it was Paris or New York. But when Jim was in the States for several days or a week, he always smoothly disappeared for a while. He was the kind of man, Lorna figured, who could well lead a double life-perhaps wife and kids in Jersey or Connecticut, but unable to play the homey husband role all the way. During her few years as a trans-Atlantic stew, Lorna had learned a lot about men.
"Wheee! Woweee! Who's the new sexpot?" Jim Dutton's live voice suddenly interrupted her as he walked into the bedroom in the flesh! "If this is your new stewmate, baby, maybe we should try some three-way loving!"
"Who ... how did you get in here?" Sharon shrieked with genuine embarrassment, her cheeks flushing as she spontaneously thrust her hands in front of her tightly clothed crotch. "Go away! Go...."
"My fault entirely, darling," Lorna admitted with a husky laugh, walking over brazenly to Jim and giving the uniformed First Officer a wet, tonguing kiss while she ground her pelvis wantonly against his. "Mmmm ... he tastes good! Jim's my lover, lover, lover! He's got keys to both apartments. Don't worry, Sharon, you'll be seeing a lot of him at work, too. Jim's co-pilot on our flight 8A75 to Paris, frequently. And he'd be a Captain, too, if it wasn't for the big energy crisis and all the layoffs...."
"There's only one kind of 'lay' I can think of now," Jim said, his eyes eating up Sharon's young and revealed voluptuousness in the wild toreador outfit. "I've got a fifth of good Scotch here that I just brought back on the flight from London. Why don't we all retire to the bedroom and get cozy? I'll show you how three can have a lot more fun than two ... or even four!"
Sharon's big blue eyes widened in awe. She had been around. She had lived in Paris for over a year. But her millionaire father had always seen that she was heavily protected-lived at well-chaperoned dormitories and introduced to young men from the "right" kind of families. The blonde wasn't without normal emotions, however. She had admitted to Lorna after a few drinks the day before, that she on one occasion went so far as to go down on a married man whose daughter was her girlfriend. Sharon also confessed to experiencing pleasure when "special" boyfriends had fondled and sucked her mammoth breasts. The married man and two youths, on separate occasions, had eaten her succulent blonde pussy and made her "scream happy!" Otherwise, Sharon vowed that she was still a virgin. Only tongues and fingers had enjoyed the wetness of her pussy, but none had penetrated!
"Pardon his manners," Lorna said with a natural enough laugh, although she was intensely jealous of the way that Jim continued to stare at Sharon and lick his sexy lips. "This is First Officer Jim Dutton! If you're sleeping on the sofa bed in the living room and he comes through to get to my bedroom at some crazy hour after a flight, don't worry. I've never heard of him raping anyone yet...."
"But I might be tempted!" Jim said, his eyes still savoring the young blonde's mobile and seductive body, while his hands cupped and caressed Lorna's full breasts and squeezed them roughly through the nylon sleepshirt. "When I come to sack out with lover girl here after a grueling flight ... I'll be quiet ... but I just might not make it past that sofa bed where you're having wet dreams about...."
"And maybe you'll get knocked on your conceited ass by Sharon's boyfriend in bed with her!" Lorna shrieked, slapping his face angrily, yet pretending to be playful. "Sharon's a beautiful square compared to us, darling. Look at her blush! That's real, Jim! You've upset her. Maybe I should have the locks on the apartments changed and...."
"Oh, bullshit!" Jim shouted, slapping Lorna's firm buttocks with enough force to let her know that he had been drinking on the way from Kennedy and was in one of his free-sex moods. "What about you, little blondie? Oh ... great! You look good enough to eat raw if I could get those hot pants off! What a fucking pair of thighs! Ummm ... let me lick up those alabaster beauties until I can taste the sweet delight of...."
"Oh, no! Get away from me!" Sharon screamed in a fit of building hysteria, backing away as Jim crawled to her naked thighs on his knees and licked at the warm moist junction. "You ... you're Lorna's boyfriend! Don't ... oh, don't put your mouth one me there! You ... You're an animal!"
"Yeah! I'm an animal!" Jim admitted in a sex-starved whisper as he looked up at her terrified yet curiously intrigued face. "I'm the big-bad-wolf! I eat little girls."
"Jim!" Lorna yelled at him with sudden anger that tore at her insides, then she moved between him and Sharon until her upper thighs were against him. "Jim, you're drunk ... and I think I know why. Bob Connors was First Officer on the flight that was hijacked yesterday! He was killed! He was one of your close friends, and you can't...."
"Close friend?" Jim interrupted, seeking out Lorna's haunting green eyes as he stood up against her and hugged tightly. "What's a close friend, if he's dead? Bobby and I went into the Air Force together right after college. He saved my life when he ducked his finger under me near Haiphong and intercepted the fucking SAMS they had trained on me! He was lucky ... hit their missiles with his own air-to-ground rockets! Oh ... oh, fuck! Let's get drunk and ball! Let's make a trio of love and...."
"Come on in the bedroom, darling," Lorna said softly, tonguing his ears arousingly as she held him in close embrace. "I know how you must feel ... and you know why-my father. But don't upset Sharon ... she knows about the hijack ... she's upset enough as it is. Bring the bottle in the bedroom, Jim."
"I'm sorry," Sharon interrupted, standing up triangularly between the two, her lips slightly parted, her emotion showing. "I didn't know you were such a close friend of the pilot who was killed. Will you forgive me for being so childish ... so square?"
"Why not?" Jim replied, wrapping his arms around both their waists and bringing all three faces together so that he could tongue and kiss the warm, feminine lips and mouths. "Oh ... oh, Sharon, baby! I'll forgive you for anything ... if you come to bed with Lorna and me! Great! What a great threesome we could have! How would you like to have Lorna suck that blonde, virgin cunt while ... you suck on this rod with those hot lips? Here! Feel it!"
Jim quickly grasped Sharon's right hand and pushed it against the hard, bulging crotch of his trousers. For a split second, her fingers wrapped around the covered cock, her tongue pushed symbolically into his mouth until it met Lorna's. Her grasp suddenly loosened and she pulled away from the pair, refusing to admit to herself that the voluntary contact with Lorna's passionate mouth had excited her.
"Go ahead, you two ... go to bed and screw!" the blonde said, the words erupting hesitantly from her succulent young lips. "I'm a ... a rookie in this business ... and I'm worried about whether I get hijacked tomorrow on my first flight. I don't know ... last week I had a dream about being hijacked and raped on my first time out! Oh, my God! I know! I can tell! Lorna! We're going to be hijacked by terrorists on the Paris run tomorrow."
"Don't be adolescent! Ridiculous!" Lorna screeched at the girl, aware that she was very jealous at the way that Jim licked his lips and actually drooled as he looked at Sharon's naked thighs and bulging titties. "Our Paris run has never been hijacked! It has the best security check of any flight in the world! Don't worry, darling ... you're a graduate stew now."
Jim blew a kiss toward Sharon and amplified it with his disarming smile. He knew that he would have her body eventually. And if she was really a virgin, he would delight in being the first to corrupt her. Even though he readily followed Lorna's swaying body into the bedroom, his mind remained on the young blonde in the toreador hot-pants outfits, her oversized and firm breasts bulging and seemingly begging for his tongue and lips on their slightly hidden nakedness. He even imagined what a kick she would get if he fucked her between those pulsing, titillating globes of flesh, and creamed his cum all over her strawberry nipples and the "vanilla ice cream" mounds.
"Jim, darling! You completely, lovable, debauched bastard!" Lorna sighed with a shudder of her fabulous body after Jim closed the bedroom door and they were alone at last. "Why do you always torture me when I have a new stew sharing my apartments? Can't I give you enough?"
"Oh, Lorna, baby ... I'm a real, live, male chauvenist pig!" Jim bragged with a laugh, tossing back his virile mane of sandy hair and combing it with his fingers as he watched the full thighs swaying in front of him when Lorna went to the dresser and filled two shot glasses with his Scotch. "You know me well enough by now, huh? I'm like you maybe ... drown my sorrows in booze and sex when I'm not in the cockpit. Yeah! It's the same way you went when your father was reported MIA. Colonel Fontana? I still think he's alive after all these years. But Bobby Connors is dead for goddamn sure! Your father went down in a blaze of glory."
"Forget it, Jim ... please?" Lorna insisted loudly, turning to face him and hand over a drink. "Let's love and do ... and screw! You know you can sleep over here tomorrow if you don't want to go to your hotel room ... or to your wife. But don't fuck up Sharon's life any more than it's screwed up! She's a real virgin."
"Bullshit!" Jim broke in, coming up to Lorna and palming the backs of her naked thighs beneath the sleep shirt. "She may be a virgin in that hot little cunt of hers, but her mouth can suck cock, I'll bet, and maybe her ass has had it, too. Come on now ... tell me. You girls don't keep many secrets from each other. She loves to eat cock, doesn't she? I can tell by the girl's mouth, Lorna! She's a natural cocksucker!"
"No ... she only did it once with a man ... she knew," Lorna told him, trying to catch his attention by parading around the dimly lit bedroom in her plunging sleepshirt and briefs. "Do ... do you want to fuck her so much because she's younger ... because her titties are so big and nice? Aren't you satisfied with me, Jim? You know how I feel about you!"
"Oh, cut out that crap, sweetheart!" he responded, unbuttoning the sleepshirt until Lorna's titties came out and the hard, juicy, pink nipples looked up at him! "The whole world is a fucking orgy! Sharon can have her deathwish ... hijack fantasies! I want to see that mouth of yours ... that crazy beautiful pair of hot-red lips cover my cock!"
"Yes, my darling ... yes!" Lorna said with a hiss of genuine passion as she wriggled the unbuttoned garment over her smooth shoulders and dropped slavishly to her knees. "Jim ... I want your cock! Oh, I do love to unzip you and pull it out ... your balls, too. Oh! So hard! It must be seven inches hard! Here ... let me help you get off that uniform ... naked together, darling."
In less than a minute, Lorna had stripped Jim and pushed him back on her bed. She stood between his legs and teasingly lowered her briefs until the upper strands of her thick, dark pubic triangle came into view. She saw the look of raw passion in his fluorescent eyes! She saw his prick pulse and swell even more as she lowered the briefs to her crotch and lay bare the oozingly wet lips of her throbbing and milky cunt.
Jim, his legs dangling over the side of the bed as she stood between them, moved up on his elbows. The dim light from the bed lamp was enough to reflect from the moist lips and surrounding, black, glistening pubic hairs! He watched in fascination as he had so many times before. His tongue ran around the lips of his mouth while his eyes went from Lorna's wantonly facial contortions to her excited cunt!
The young pilot's cheeks reddened with arousal. He looked on enthralled as the liquid sex juiced from inside her pussy and seeped out through the swollen, reddened cuntal lips! The slightly viscous fluids slid down to the well of her vagina, then began to drool slowly down her inner thighs, the liquid pumping in a tempo with the sexually agonizing movements of her tall, passionately trembling young body. Her nakedness could almost overwhelm him when she came into heat like that.
Lorna's eyes smiled down at Jim and she tongued around the perimeter of her full-lipped mouth. She looked with wide-eyed awe at his raging cock! Her entire face took on a sex-crazed expression, and her saliva secreted so fast that some of it dripped over her chin to the floor. Jim's organ was slim and long, symbolizing something that Lorna refused to remember. She had seen and enjoyed much bigger ones, but long before Lorna had learned that size alone meant nothing.
One of her temporary lovers in Paris over a year before had only five inches. But the man knew how to use what he had so well that he brought her to orgasm after orgasm. And Jim had seven inches, Lorna guessed, and a very unusual ability, a technique that made her want to beg for it sometimes, or lie in bed alone and cry while squeezing her upper thighs together until she self-climaxed a half dozen times and left her crotch almost as juicy as if she had been fucked by five men! She was a phallic worshipper! She had a mania for Jim's sexual equipment and the personality and talent that went with it. She could and did enjoy him vaginally, orally and anally!
"You're ho hard, darling ... so good!" she exclaimed breathily when her eyes were fixed on the purple-headed penis and she tortured herself deliberately by not using it right that moment. "It moves ... and has a pulse beat, my lover! The veins stick out ... you're desire-bloated! Yes, darling ... you like to watch me when I'm hot like this ... don't you? Could that little hung-up virgin blonde do for you what I do? Could she, Jim?"
"What a ... a crazy fucking question at a time like this!" Jim panted, lifting his legs horizontally so that he could surround her upper thighs with his calves and maneuver her body, caress the fulsome firmness of her underass. "You feel good, baby ... damned good. And you like those hairy legs on your body ... don't you?"
"Yes ... oh, yes!" Lorna hissed with amplified feeling, looking down between them and moving her hips slowly from side to side until she cried out and trembled. "Mmmmm ... an orgasm! How do you do it, Jim? Sometimes ... when I get a hot feeling and we're out at a party together or something ... I can just look at you, smile at you, pull my thighs together tightly ... and cum! And ... when you were dancing with that French pilot's wife in Paris last month; I saw you were making her hot ... dry-fucking her on the dance floor! It made me cum then ... just watching ... knowing...."
"Sexy ... sexy!" Jim broke in, pulling her buttocks apart with his heels. "What if you saw me fucking Lorette? How would that have psyched you, baby?"
"I ... I don't know ... really don't," Lorna insisted curiously, her breath short. "I like sex, darling, but I'm not a ... a Les or a nympho. It makes me feel kind of...."
"And what if you watched me throwing this cock to your little blonde stewmate Sharon?" Jim asked, pushing the subject mercilessly upon Lorna, knowing that she was so hot and ripe for new ideas at the moment. "How would it hit you if you saw me fucking ... fucking ... fucking my hard muscle in and out of her virginal blonde cunt? What if you saw her grab me ... and scream out for glory when she got her kicks ... her big titties grinding into my chest hairs? Wouldn't that psyche you ... make you want to join us ... lick my cock and taste that young pussy, too ... while I fucked it?"
"No ... oh, no, Jim!" Lorna cried out, dropping to her knees and grasping the hard prick with her right hand while her left played with his big balls. "I want you, darling! Ummmm! When I lick up the side of it and my tongue presses on the gorged veins ... I love it! Your balls ... they're taut, Jim! That makes me know how hot you are for me. They don't dangle ... they're firm and I can feel the goose pimples pricking out all over them. Jim! I'm going to lick them ... and lick all the hair around them...."
Jim relaxed his body more so he could take the full measure of pleasure that he could always expect from Lorna. But the juicy way that her tongue swiped and licked around his super-sensitive testicles, the way that the pointed tip probed under them until it almost touched the rim of his excitable asshole, only stimulated him more, excited him to the point of wanting to put it in her. On the other hand, Lorna was such a creature of sex that Jim maintained delightful memories of shooting off into her navel, over her belly, between her firm tits, or watching it splash all over her cherry-tipped breasts as she licked down to retrieve the large contribution!
Spontaneously, Lorna leaned over and buried her mouth in th pubic mass above his cock. She licked and drooled her saliva through the hairs and up the side of his elongated organ until the liquid lips surrounded the desire-bloated head. Jim reached over to grab her firm titties, but they were too far away at the moment. Her mouth formed a liver-liquid suction over the top of his cock and the sensations reverberated through his whole turned-on body!
"What a mouth ... what a fucking mouth!" he panted breathlessly as he looked into her searching eyes momentarily and then grabbed her behind the neck with both hands, massaging the silky, thick, black hair into her scalp and forcing her mouth to engulf the whole of his blood-engorged cock as it palpitated on the brink of climax deep in her cavernous throat! "Oh, baby! Let it soak in that mouth ... wiggle your palate over the head! Oh, shit, you're good, Lorna! Call up the Chief Stew and tell them you ... and Sharon, too ... have leprosy and can't come to work tomorrow! Cunt! Crazy cunts!"
Lorna tensed slightly, letting the swollen cock fall from her dripping mouth. She spit on her fingers and grabbed hold of the shaft, letting the natural lubricant aid her up-and-down thrusts. She slaked her wet tongue around the sides of his balls, the hard nuts drawn up tight and hot!
"Just a second! Hold it! Hold it, you goddamn cunt!" Jim suddenly screamed at her, unaware of the shadow that crept minutely under the door from the hall, although he realized that Sharon was probably fascinated as well as shocked by Lorna's conduct. "You nearly had me there, baby! But you don't want it in your face tonight ... right now ... do you? Hell, no, you don't. You telegraph your kicks like Western Union. Come on here...."
Jim reached down between Lorna's perspiring armpits and pulled her over his body. Their bellies and chests were oiled with sweat and the trip was sensually stimulating. Her hard-nippled breasts slid over his pulsing belly until the excited projections moved against his own. Their faces met and their hot breaths mixed in a suffusion of raw, uninhibited passion!
"Put it ... in me ... ," Lorna gasped just before their mouths joined and their lips and tongues fought for the most salacious contact.
Strong hands slid around the bottom contours of Lorna's tensed, firm buttocks. Jim delighted in the feeling of the perspiring undercreases where they joined the full-fleshed upper portions of her shapely legs. Nakedness thrilled him! The contacts of their bodies, hands, genitals-the whole package made him rage with desire!
As their mouths tangled to seek out new and stronger orally liquid sensations, Jim pulled her body over his completely. Lorna's hand squeezed down between their pelvises, desperate to move his hotly throbbing cock into her hungry cunt! But suddenly, Jim flipped her whole body over! She was underneath him on the bed. He moved back his pelvis until the purple head of his uncontrollably stimulated cock found its way forcefully between her warm thighs. With experienced accuracy, the mobile, swollen cockhead found the preciously wet and begging lips of her pussy!
Lorna could only gurgle as she attempted to cry out into his mouth when the long, hard, throbbing prick penetrated her anxiously spasming pussy like a pile driver! She sucked his thick tongue into her mouth and tried literally to gulp it into her throat as far as she had done his prick!
"Oh, Jim! Oh, Jim! In me! Fuck me!" she screamed, not caring who might be outside the door listening to her wanton expressions of passion in action. "Jim! Oh, Jim ... Jim ... Jim! Make me cum like that again! Fuck me hard, Jim!"
Obediently, yet masterfully, Jim drove his powerful organ in and out of the excessively sweating walls of her tight, hot, young vagina! He thrust like a master cocksman, forcing the big head of his swollen penis against the resisting gate of her womb! Lorna had never been pregnant. She had been through physicals twice a year. She received goosepimpling thrills, in fact, when a doctor dilated her sex organs and peered into the womb to tell her that she was very healthy and normal, that an active sex life wouldn't bother her a bit. One doctor had gone down on her, and she had always thought of it as a supreme compliment.
Jim was finely attuned to the desires of Lorna, and was aware of many of the reasons behind her sexual demands. He was smart enough to know that she equated him with her father. And he often wondered if anything physically sexual had ever taken place between them.
Wanting to prolong his pleasure, Jim got back into control and drilled her spasming cunt slowly, delighted by the moans and cries of her multiple orgasms. Although Lorna was solidly built, he enjoyed the way that he could smash against her pelvic bones with his when their bodies slammed together in screeching search of impossibly ultimate climax!
Their sex-fevered eyes met for a moment as Jim pushed himself up from the grinding contact with her swollen titties whose red nipples stuck out like succulent cherries waiting, begging to be relished! Quickly, his eyes were followed by Lorna's down the lengths of their hotly spasming bodies. They both watched entranced as the long, vein-coursed cock worked in and out of her voracious cunt again with the precision strokes of a perfectly oiled piston!
"Sharon ... couldn't ever take your cock ... like me!" the twenty-six-year-old girl panted passionately, her wild eyes trying to search out his as she arched her naked body to him in vigorous fuck! "Oh, Jim! You've made me cum six times already! I could cum with you in me all night
... if you'd screw me all night."
Jim had heard that song before. Sometimes, it had come from the highly neurotic lips of a beautiful nympho, a girl who could never be satisfied by any ten men gang-banging her for days. But he knew that Lorna had her limits. He knew that Lorna liked the affectionate aftermaths and the long, long-distance of intercourse by a man who had control.
"Juice me! Jet me with your cum, darling!" she shrieked, but Jim plowed away slowly and cleverly, forcing her to more orgasms. "Oh! Oh, my loving God! All right, Jim! Don't stop! Fuck me till I pass ... pass out."
Plumbing the depths of her juicy sex chambers and groaning with joy at the continuing and building sensations, Jim still held off. He dug his fingers into the yielding, moist buttocks and let them slide inward. The tips touched Lorna's puckering asshole and briefly invaded the sensitive entrance. He watched her almost flat stomach squirm and undulate. He would withdraw his prick on an outstroke occasionally so that it slipped up through her thick mass of pubic hairs, but Lorna would beg him with tears in her eyes not to shoot off there, to "fuck me with your sperm!"
Lorna's sharp mind began to work overtime. She realized that she could become a veritable sex slave to a man like Jim. But she also knew from previous experiences that Jim didn't want a permanent lover. Marriage wasn't Lorna's goal, she kept telling herself, but she had great need of a man like Jim, all the time. Did she want to become a masochistic sex slave? Somehow, that role seemed to fit Sharon more than it did her. Sharon, Lorna realized, was more masochistic, but didn't realize it at all. How would the younger girl discover her sexual potential?
Suddnly, Lorna forgot all about Sharon. She sensed the unmistakable pulsations of the swelling cock that told her that Jim was about to explode! She knew that he couldn't hold out any longer, that he was on the verge of an explosive ejaculation! How long had they been fucking? It seemed like hours. However, Lorna knew that the actual penetration of her cock-starved body had been going on over half an hour. It was close to midnight, but there had been Jim's late arrival, the teasing with Sharon, the foreplay, and the sex-talk that they both liked so much.
"Fuck ... fuck you, Lorna! Fuck your beautiful ... cunt!" Jim cried with trembling emotion, his cock plunging as it enlarged to climax and then began to shoot streams of searing hot liquid cum into her wanton cunt. "Fuck you! Fuck Sharon! Goddamn ... I'm gonna fuck both of you together."
As Jim's panting breath faded out, Lorna threw her arms around his lean back and gouged her fingernails uncontrollably into his flesh while she forced out a satisfying climax! "Oh, darling ... so beautiful!" she moaned, her slippery vaginal muscles milking every drop from his wildly throbbing penis. "Yes ... I'll call in sick tomorrow. I won't go."
* * *
Lorna had almost passed out with rapture when the ringing of the telephone at her bedside ruined it all. She had a horror of answering it for some reason that she couldn't understand. Finally, Sharon picked up the phone in the living room. Jim and Lorna heard a few words, but didn't understand the drift of the conversation. In another minute, there was the distinct sound of the phone being hung up, and then they heard footsteps, and a light knock on the bedroom door.
After Lorna told her to come in, the light from the hallway and living room out-lined every detail of Sharon's exciting young body as she stood in the doorway in a gauzy peignoir. Jim's mind was wild with ideas, but he had an omen of what the phone call would be about before the blonde spoke.
"Lorna ... it was Jim's answering service," Sharon almost whispered into the semi-darkened room, her eyes hungrily searching for a glance at their nakedness. "They said the airline called. Jim has to be co-pilot on our 8A75 to Paris. Bob Connors ... the man who was killed in the hijack ... he was the one scheduled to...."
Lorna couldn't feel the spectre of death that went with Sharon's announcement to Jim that he was to take over for his deceased buddy. She was strangely elated and thrilled that Jim was going to be the First Officer on their flight to Paris, and would probably have a long turnaround there, too. Sharon's fear of another hijack was ridiculous, Lorna thought. But then the underlying threat of a hijack added a sudden sense of high-adventure to her thrill-demanding personality.
And then she went to sleep in Jim's arms.
CHAPTER TWO
The passengers on flight 8A75 began to look out the windows for the first signs of the coast of Brittany at eight in the morning. They had just finished a sumptuous breakfast. A few were still sipping from the glasses of Champagne that went along with the early-morning meal for first class passengers. There were no clouds below. The flight was smooth. It had been smooth all the way from New York and less than an hour from the scheduled landing at Orly Airport outside Paris, conversation among those who had never met until the night before was as easy as among old friends.
"Almost thirty years ago ... ha-hah!" a middle-aged and well-dressed businessman said to the twenty-four-year-old girl at his side, cursing himself for giving away his age, but forced to continue. "We were only a bunch of kids ... teenagers. We took over Brest from the Germans. You'll see it there in a minute ... as soon as we get over the coast."
"Oh, you couldn't be old enough to have been in World War Two!" the cute grad student, going to Paris for a year at the Sorbonne, exclaimed. "Why ... why, Mr. Bennington! When ... you kissed me last night ... and thought I was asleep ... you reminded me of my boyfriend."
"That blonde's a cute little thing, huh?" a smartly dressed young lawyer remarked to the French doctor in the seat beside him. "A little nervous, too. I hope she comes back up from the galley long enough for me to get her address. That's a stew who'll put out ... I'll bet."
"Put out?" the suave Frenchman queried with a look of disgust, twitching his upper lip as if about to sneeze. "You must understand, sir, that I have nothing against Americans in total, but must you use so crude the expression 'put out' when only you are thinking of simple love ... sex. It is a part of life as much as ... as eating and sleeping."
"My God! Will this plane never land?" a forty-year-old woman, whose dress and makeup were supposed to make her look younger, asked of her forty-five-year-old husband as she squeezed his hand. "I've ... I've always wanted to see Paris ... to travel to Europe ... we've saved for it all our lives, Henry. But ... we've been in the air over six hours now...."
"Don't worry, my dear," her squeamish spouse said, licking his lips with hidden voraciousness as he spotted the French coast and let his mind drift back twenty-five years. "I know how flying upsets you. We'll just relax for a while when we get to the hotel. I think you should take one-maybe two-of those sleeping pills that your doctor gave you. And then tomorrow we can go shopping and sightseeing."
"Oh, no, you don't, Henry!" the matronly woman interrupted him like she was scolding a small child, her "air sickness" suddenly gone. "You want to drug me so that you can see those ... those whore-girls on Pigsalley! I've heard about those ... those things they do in France! We're going to see the cultural parts."
* * *
In the lower lobe galley of the jumbo-jet, Sharon Dunlap smiled to herself as she lit a cigarette and stashed away the breakfast trays and carts. Her first flight was almost over. Perhaps, the young blonde realized, she had been a little nervous and uncertain at times, but it wasn't the grueling ordeal that she had imagined it would be. She hadn't spilled supper or breakfast all over a passenger's lap. Her knowledge of Continental cuisine and drinking habits had been a tremendous help as she had served the late supper upon leaving New York the night before.
Sharon realized that she was tired, very exhausted. Her adrenalin was keeping her going, and it also gave her a feeling of unusual elation mixed with relaxation. She was feeling very cool and pleased with herself as she walked over to the galley lift that would take her back up to the main cabin of the huge airliner.
"Surprise, blondie!" Jim Dutton's voice greeted her from the descending lift. "How about a cup of that real coffee before we land? That precreamed stuff in the container in the cockpit is cold. I like mine black and hot!"
"Yes, sir!" Sharon said, looking away from his disarming smile, although she had seen him naked with Lorna only the day before, served him coffee at their apartment when he sat at the breakfast table in only his shorts and let his penis hang out shamelessly. "Here you are ... right from coffeemaker ... real!"
"Ummmm!" Jim sighed after his first sip of the steaming brew, the blazing blue eyes sweeping up her miniskirted body and then staring her in the beautiful young face. "You realize you're one of the luckiest girls who ever wanted to be a stew, don't you? Right in the middle of the energy crisis, when flight personnel are getting laid off by the thousands ... here you are! Who're you fucking, baby? The president of the airline?"
"Oh, Jim!" Sharon shrieked at him, doubling up her delicate hands into white-knuckled fists and forgetting that he was First Officer of the huge jet. "You ... make me feel cheap! I want to cry...."
"Go ahead and cry ... baby," Jim told her with his smirking grin, gulping down the hot brew while he viewed the backs of Sharon's luscious thighs as she reached down to pick up an empty cigarette pack that he had deliberately thrown behind her. "You put on a good show. The other stews like you. They think you're okay for a broad who comes in cold while their best friends, with five years of service, are being furloughed. Now, be honest with me, Sharon! I'm no dumb hick. Who the hell are you fucking to get this job?"
Sharon tried to back away, but the galley was just too small. Jim trapped her against one of the ovens that was still warm, and she was helpless but to twist away in his direction. Her young body wanted to explode! The excitement of her first trip and of being pursued by the lovably handsome pilot, whom her apartment mate considered personal property, made her tingle! She watched Jim gulp down the last drops of the strong black coffee as he held her tightly around the waist with his other arm. What was he going to try to do barely forty-five minutes before they were scheduled to land? He was going to kiss her, yes! But what else? How should she react?
"Jim, please," she begged, trying not too hard to get away from his firm hold on her. "Don't tell the other girls ... not even Lorna knows it. My father ... he knows the Executive Vice President of the airline ... that's all. Please, don't tell."
"Ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha!" Jim broke up with laughter, then pulled her body so tightly against his that she couldn't help but feel his throbbing cock through their clothing. "You know, Sharon ... I believe you! I really do! You're almost as innocent as Lorna thinks you are. When you leaned over to pick up that cigarette pack, you showed me your ass, baby-nude pantyhose and a pair of white briefs. You must have been giving the male passengers hot nuts all night."
"I ... I didn't mean to," Sharon insisted verbally, but she was helpless to resist the advances of the man who had thrilled her vicariously for almost two days! "I ... I know they told us at stewardess school to always wear thick-panty pantyhose or full panties ... but I just ... just forgot, Jim. I didn't realize our uniforms had such ... short miniskirts ... oh, Jim...."
His lips met hers and both mouths were open! She welcomed his tongue and sucked on it, but very lightly and curiously, like a junior-high-school girl only beginning to learn about kissing. Jim withdrew his tongue and sucked hers into his mouth with more firmness. Saliva seeped from their hungry mouths. A second of turbulence forced their bodies closer together. Jim lowered himself so that the head of his hard cock probed into her mini between her thighs.
Their lips clung together as Sharon cursed herself for being so "weak". She wanted desperately to break away and ring the bell for Lorna, the Chief Stewardess on the flight. At least, that was what she kept telling herself while she enjoyed the wet kissing, the feeling between her legs, the crazy desire to reach down and take it out, feel it, perhaps even ... kiss it!
"It's wrong, Jim!" she cried out, reminding, him of a voluptuous thirty-seven-year-old American School teacher that he had met in Paris when he was twenty-eight. "Jim! No! Don't do that!"
Sharon was amazed at the way that she couldn't help but react to Jim's pelvic pressure, the return of his gyrations, the wonderful feel of his clothed organ pressing into her excited crotch! The girl almost froze at the feel of his hands coming up the backs of her stockinged thighs. But she seemed to enjoy the sensations more than she should, particularly when the fingers probed down between her buttocks and rubbed the nude nylon sheerness over her bare flesh.
"Baby, baby," Jim sighed, blowing his breath into her mouth, grinding his pelvis upward and inward until Sharon was breathing as heavily as he. "Oh, what a body ... what an ass ... what legs! If you were brought up in a small town, you'd have been 'Miss Fire Department' with no competition!"
"Don't, Jim ... I'm all confused! I mean it!" Sharon exclaimed, trying to sound very serious. "I'm Lorna's friend ... and she's your ... your lover. Please, let me go, Jim."
"Lie to me, baby!" Jim responded, tossing back his mane of wavy, sandy hair. "Tell me this doesn't feel good."
He kept massaging her firm and shapely buttocks until he had strained the nude pantyhose beyond their stretch limits. His fingernails tore through the material until his fingers and hands were palming and fondling and squeezing the bare cheeks of her ass even under the white briefs.
"No ... no, Jim!" Sharon objected, no more than he expected her to. "I'm ... just a rookie ... confused. No! No, Jim...."
"Didn't want me to feel how juicy you are, did you?" he asked with a throaty, sensual laugh. "No ... the sweet little virgin doesn't want the big man to know she's juicy and hot between her legs."
"What do you want to do to me, Jim?" Sharon asked in sudden desperation, realizing that she might be missed up in the cabin or the lounge. "I ... I like you, Jim ... I do! But Lorna...."
"Can you remember an address ... in French?" Jim asked, digging his fingers effortlessly between wet lips surrounded by silky hairs. "Can you?"
"Yes."
"The Bradford Hotel on rue deValois ... near the Louvre," he stated quickly. "Can you remember it?
"Yes ... yes, Jim!"
"Now ... one little joy for Jim," he said, raising the front of her mini uniform, unzipping his trousers and letting the throbbing cock seek her entrance through the shredded pantyhose. "I won't break your cherry, sweetheart ... if you've really got one."
"I swear, I do! I never...."
Sharon said no more. It was too late, and she also decided that she trusted Jim. She was far too gone to worry about Lorna, anymore. That bridge would have to be crossed when it confronted her. She sighed. She cried. But she couldn't deny the joyful feeling that enveloped her when Jim's gorged cock sliced through the torn place in her pantyhose and found its way under the edge of her tiny briefs. She hugged and squeezed him like never before, never before with any man. She reached down to feel the long, hard, slim rod as it went in and out of her pussy only an inch at a time.
"Oh! Oh, Jim!" she cried out in orgasm, loving it every second, every thrill, and so thankful that he didn't try to really penetrate her fully, "Cum, Jim! You've got to! I have to...." And then everything happened at once! Jim came, and she welcomed the warm, viscous liquid shooting into her hot vulva and providing another orgasm.
At the same time, Sharon was aware of a loud buzzing noise and the flashing of the red light by the intercom phone that connected the lower galley with the stews' positions as well as the cockpit.
"Sounds like a problem, baby!" Jim said, yanking a handkerchief from his pocket and trying to catch his cum with it, then handing it over to Sharon to mop between her thighs. "Jameson's Captain tonight. He never calls unless it's a problem. Maybe there's bad weather over Orly ... but the last forecast was 'clear'."
Suddenly, Sharon felt abandoned. Of course, the safety of the flight was all important. But what could it be? She, too, had heard the weather reports on the radio and everything had seemed so perfect, so wonderful. What could happen to disturb her first flight? Unless it was the one thing that she feared above all else!
"It's a hijack!" Jim told her, after hanging up the phone and motioning her toward the door of the lift to the main cabin. "Jameson gave me the code ... and the word. There'll be a guy waiting for us upstairs with a gun in our faces. He's threatening to kill Jameson unless we take him to the Middle East. Cool it, baby ... there are at least three Arab terrorists up there itching to blast our guts off. They got three .45 automatic pistols through, buried in the earth of carry-on potted plants ... didn't even go through the damned metal detector. Come on, Sharon ... this is your baptism by fire!"
"Those three men with dark mustaches ... dark complexions!" Sharon exclaimed as she squeezed in the lift tightly with Jim and tried to push down the skirt of her short uniform to cover the tears in her pantyhose. "I just knew they were Arabs ... but they were all sitting separately ... never even talked to each other. I don't think any of them ever said a word to me when I served them ... just nodded and smiled."
"All the better to keep us off guard, dammit!" Jim cursed through gritted teeth, the lift starting its climb. "You remember one thing, girl! Keep out of their way! Make yourself as anonymous as possible, but do anything they say without an argument. If they're real terrorists, Arab or otherwise, they'd just as soon kill you if you make the slightest indication that irritates them."
"Come out! Come both out, with hands high!" a gruff, foreign-accented voice ordered them when the lift stopped in the main cabin. "You, co-pilot! Take off your uniform! You, pig of American girl, be naked! I take no chance you have concealed guns."
Sharon, trembling as her eyes flitted from left to right, almost protested. But Jim squeezed her hand so hard that one of his fingernails penetrated the skin of her palm. They both began to undress. Sharon was aware of three sets of eyes glued to her with sex-crazed interest. The passengers, most of them, politely looked away.
The man in the doorway of the cockpit was obviously the leader. He was swarthy, big, had a thick black mustache and appeared three days behind in shaving the rest of his face. The small eyes glanced from the cockpit to the cabin continually. The big automatic pistol that he held fit his own personality-lethal, sadistic, deadly!
When Lorna, who was standing just to the left of the man whose left hand gripped firmly her right arm, looked at Sharon's shredded pantyhose crotch with fiery jealousy, the much slimmer and younger man to her left began to laugh at her embarrassment. He wore a cap and was dressed more neatly than the swarthy man at the cockpit door. His eyes, too, were going from left to right, from the tourist to the first-class sections as he stood in the doorway between them.
But it was the crude, ear-shattering "howl" of the slim young man on the stairway between the first-class cabin and the upper lounge that made Sharon shudder! He was tall and lanky, a little nervous with jerking gestures. He bellowed and bleated, his eyes staying on her as he pointed his big pistol back and forth from the lounge to the cabin.
"Filth! Trash! Yankee scum!" he sneered at the almost naked, trembling blonde, then howled again before adding, "You are disgusting! Come here! I spit on you!"
"Enough!" the big man in the cockpit doorway shouted at his accomplice, then spoke to him in Arabic briefly before motioning to Jim and Sharon to come forward. "You are First Officer! Look out to your Second Officer ... if he is bad hurt!"
"Oh! Oh, my God!" Sharon screamed helplessly when she first noticed the bleeding body of the flight engineer on the carpet in front of the cockpit door. "What ... what happened to...."
"Ha-ha! Ha-ha!" the swarthy man in the lumber jacket dress laughed unmercifully as he indicated that Sharon and Jim could put their clothes back on because he was then certain that they were unarmed. "That man was to be a hero! He try to grab this gun from me ... but I smash his face!"
Sharon stifled another scream of terror when she saw the man's face, after Jim rolled the inert body over and tore open his jacket and shirt. Other passengers gasped at the sight of the blood flowing from the shattered head.
"He ... he's dead," Jim announced solemnly, standing up and looking right into the bulky terrorist's face. "What about the Captain?"
"He is okay ... flying the plane," the chief hijacker said, sneering at both Jim and Sharon, then shoving Lorna aside and releasing her. "You come sit in pilot seat! You make reason to your Captain! We do not land in Paris ... go to Mid-East."
"To Cairo? Damascus?" Jim asked, holding out his hands desperately. "We don't have enough fuel! We're scheduled to refuel in Paris when the crew changes. We couldn't get to Frankfurt with what we've got in the tanks."
Suddenly, the hijacker smashed the side of the steel pistol against Jim's cheek. His face started to bleed. Sharon stepped toward him. Lorna pulled her back. The burly Arabic-appearing man told his two accomplices to watch the passengers and stewardesses carefully, to shoot anyone who made a suspicious move.
"Oh, Lorna, Lorna! I'm so scared! I knew this would happen!" Sharon whispered as she tried to grasp the older girl's hand and seek sympathy from her eyes, from her facial expression. "Lorna, What can we do? They're going to kill us ... I know it!"
"Maybe they will," Lorna responded coldly, looking down at the terrified little blonde with nothing but hate in her big brown eyes. "Won't it be nice to die after accomplishing your purpose? How is Jim at stand-up fucking now, darling? It's been a long time since he screwed me in flight. We have more comfortable places now!"
"Don't torture me, Lorna ... oh, please!" Sharon begged, finally clutching the brunette stew's hand and searching out the bitter, hateful eyes that seemed to mellow just a little at the contact with the trembling girl. "Whatever happened ... didn't mean anything, Lorna. But ... oh, my God ... how awful, how degrading to have to take off my clothes in front of those beasts! And the one on the stairway! See how he looks at us? They're going to rape us and kill us, aren't they? Talk to me, Lorna! Those Arab terrorists are going to rape us . ... "
"Keep your voice down, damn you!" Lorna hissed through closed teeth as her eyes looked from the man with the bushy mustache, that seemed too thick for his age, to the youth at the door between the two cabin areas. "There's something very odd going on. I lived in Cairo for over a year with my father. I know Arabic well enough to carry on a conversation with an Arab-speaking passenger. These men speak Arabic worse than I do ... Arabic with a Slavic accent! The boy on the steps ... speaks it with an Amer-can accent."
"You lie! You lie!" the voice of the chief hijacker screamed from the cockpit, and both Lorna and Sharon moved forward and peered inside as a gun blast shattered their hearing!
"Oh, no ... no," Lorna moaned in a low voice, covering her suddenly wet eyes.
In contrast, Sharon screamed aloud until her face turned purple! They both saw the hijacker blow open the guts of Captain Jameson, saw the dum-dum bullet tear through his uniform and leave his bleeding intestines dangling over his lap like wet snakes! Sharon looked at the tensed muscles in Jim's neck as he took over. His hands moved, his fingers pushing several buttons. Perspiration rolled down his arms and moistened the edges of his three-striped sleeves.
Jim had seen Captain Jameson's gruesome death from a closer range than the girls, but he took over with a degree of confidence that both stews couldn't help but admire in the midst of the gore and screams, and the yells of the big hijacker that followed!
"We go to Mid-East!" the more swarthy of the three men growled at Jim, knocking his hat off with the tip of the gun barrel. "You tell Orly in Paris you are in hijack!"
"Oh, for God's sake, man! We don't have enough fuel!" Jim said, hs voice cracking as he tried to keep his mind on the controls and lights in front of him. "Orly's asking our position! We're coming into the flight pattern! It's almost two thousand air miles to Cairo ... or Damascus. Where do you want to go in the Mid-East?"
"We don't say here!" the big man with the overgrowth of beard yelled in Jim's ear. "I kill great airplane Captain because he lies is no much fuel! I kill you, too!"
"It's impossible to go any farther than Paris!" Jim stated firmly, looking back at his hijacker with a forced grin of contempt. "Go ahead, you bastard! Shoot me! Who's going to take this plane anywhere if you kill me? I'm the only man you've got left who can do anything ... except to let it crash and kill us all!"
The chief hijacker was seemingly stunned for just a moment. He looked from Jim to his accomplice on the stairway, to the other one standing between the first-and tourist-class sections. Sharon tried to avoid the gaze of the young man on the stairway because the other junior hijacker looked at her in a way that she found interesting. Yes! Interesting! With the threat of death, of a crash-landing, Sharon was almost sure that the young man between the two cabin sections was looking at her in a different way, a way that excited her in the midst of her greatest fear of flying.
"God damn you! What do you want me to do?" Jim broke the momentary silence dramatically. "Orly control is asking for response! Do I crash us into a field or village ... or do I answer?"
"Answer!" the big man said, patting his thick shirt against his perspiring chest, appearing disturbed, trying to think. "Tell them hijack by Arab terrorists. You land at end runway ... we get fuel to go to Mid-East! No destination, but Mid-East."
"Hey, you ... blonde pussy-cunt!" the slim man on the stairway yelled toward Sharon and Lorna when his "boss" was out of sight in the cockpit. "You come up here, okay! Okay? I want you see something."
"Do what he says," Lorna whispered meaningfully, pushing Sharon away from her. "We'll worry about other things later. After all ... I like you, and I adore Jim. I can't blame you for falling for him, too."
"Come here, blonde pussy!" the voice on the stairway commanded, and Lorna obeyed, facing the slightly nervous and slim, dark-complexioned man with the incongruous mustache. "That's a baby, yeh! Come up to lounge. I show you plenty!"
The awful sneer and look of contempt in the young terrorist's face reminded her of a boy that she had known in high school, but the boy wasn't Arabic. He was a straight Anglo-Saxon type. Why was there such a similarity between the boy and the terrorist?
"There was an old man ... and he had an old wife-ho-dee-ho-dee-ho!" a well preserved woman in a plunging gown sang out at the piano in the lounge. "Oh, do ... let's have another Scotch ... light a match ... and go down in flames with these bloody Arabs!"
"She ask for trouble," the gunman said as he escorted the terrified Sharon up into the lounge and massaged her buttocks through the torn pantyhose. "You be trash! You fucking in downstair galley with co-pilot! Cheap slut!"
Sharon ducked and dodged the pistol whip that he was going to give her face. He pushed her down on the posh carpeting and literally spit on her as he had threatened to do before. Yet his interest of the moment seemed to be the singing, tipsy, frost-haired woman who had sat down at the piano to accompany herself. When she began to sing her risque limericks again, the slim youth walked over and tore the top of her dress apart! Two large and only slightly sagging breasts fell into view!
"Slut!" he screamed like a madman, and then Lorna almost passed out as two dum-dum bullets were unloaded between the nameless woman's breasts! "Die! Die! Slut!
The firm breasts became bloody masses as the woman rolled over onto the floor, as dead as the Flight Engineer and Captain Jameson. Some of the other passengers screamed along with Sharon. Others dropped their drinks and stared with disbelief. A man and his wife passed out.
"Ha! Stupid Americans!" the young man with the smoking pistol cried out, looking at the passengers with a sneer, utter contempt. "Now! Now, who will defy me?"
As the crazed voice raged on, Sharon began to understand what Lorna had meant. The accent of the young man was fairly convincing, but his mannerisms were American. His voice had almost a delicate sound, his movements New Yorkishly exaggerated. She strained to recall an Arabic student that she had dated at the Sorbonne, and knew that the voice quality and accent weren't quite true, either. Why? Why was the hijack more mysterious than it seemed to be.
"Oh ... oh, God!" she cried, when her voice came back to her and she looked away from the woman's bloody breasts. "Go ahead! Shoot me, too! Isn't ... that what you want to do?"
Sharon looked up into the cold, dark eyes of the youth. He aimed the gun directly between her thighs and broke into crazed, hysterical laughter. He asked her how she would like her "pussy" shot off, but the young blonde was too terrified to make a coherent response.
"Show the nice people your pretty pussy!" he demanded immediately. "You have blonde hairs on pussy. Look! Everybody look! It is an order!"
Remembering Jim's words of caution, and trying to deny the awful humiliation, Sharon reached up under her mini and pulled the shredded pantyhose and white briefs off together. She cried out when the young terrorist slapped her painfully across her upper thighs with the barrel of his gun-cold steel!
"Look! Young pussy! You! You, Mister ... I let you suck it for ten thousand dollars!" the youthful hijacker said with a crazed laugh, waving the big gun around at all of the horrified passengers and in particular at the middle-aged man to his right. "Please ... be my guest. If she does not let you suck it ... I kill her."
Along with most of the first-class passengers in the lounge, Sharon became sick at her stomach. There was no more gaity, no more yelling. The blood kept pumping out of the woman's chest of the floor, and the horror of reality silenced everyone.
"You tell Orly we must get refuel! We land only on end of runway!" the chief terrorist's voice sounded over the speaker system unexpectedly. "You tell we have refuel ... or I kill all two hundred passengers!"
The slim youth with the American accent let Sharon walk down the steps to the cabin. But his eyes never left her, and his last words-I kill you with bullets in your cunt!-remained with her, too. The young stewardess was too terrified and confused to understand it all, but she knew intuitively that she was somehow closely involved in more than a routine hijack!
"Strip your body naked! Dance!" he commanded, and Sharon denuded herself and was suddenly dancing around the first-class and tourist sections like a humiliated, degraded, corrupted slave girl!
Men ogled her naked body, but they were too afraid to do more. Women looked at her naked dance in disgust (except for one obvious Lesbian who was enjoying the view). The young terrorist in the doorway between first-class and tourist sections, however, looked at Sharon longingly, not as a lecher.
"Dance! Dance, slut!" the slim and swarthy youth with the gun that had killed the singing woman insisted. "Pick up the right foot...."
As soon as Sharon obeyed, a blasting bullet passed just beneath her raised foot! Another blasted out when she raised her left foot. The pistol holder was crying with brutal, sadistic laughter, telling her in very much of an American Midwestern voice to lift both feet simultaneously. Sharon jumped upward, all her lost ballet lessons coming back to her, and another bullet came so close to her feet that she could feel the air pressure.
"Come down! Let that woman go!" the chief hijacker's voice boomed through the loudspeaker system to save her. "You have fun ... we have fun with her later!"
"Oh, Lorna ... my God ... what will I ever do?" Sharon cried out to the senior stewardess as she clung to her after putting back on only her shoes, bra and short uniform. "I ... I just want to die! It's more than ... than anything I've ever had to take! I can't even look you in the face. Don't ... don't let the passengers look at hie ... they've seen me naked! Oh, God, what will we...."
"Tell that man I kill everybody on airplane if they no give us fuel!" the big hijacker's voice reached them clearly as the two girls huddled in each other's arms by the open cockpit door. "Who is that idiot who says they will not send fuel truck?"
He says he's Inspector Sydoux!" Jim yelled over the roar of the slowing jet engines as the huge plane set down on the end runway. "Look, man, it's not me who's giving you a bad time. I'll fly this thing to the moon if they get us refueled. But this Inspector in the tower says he won't give in to hijackers."
"Hold me ... squeeze me tightly, darling!" Lorna insisted as the crying Sharon clung to her, like a baby to its mother. "Rub your body to mine ... your big breasts to mine! We need each other, Sharon ... let me make you warm ... protect you."
As the male voices in the cockpit continued to scream while Jim relayed the messages from the tower that he had received through his earphones, to the desperate hijacker, Sharon responded affectionately, lovingly to Lorna's embrace. She did feel safer and more protected to have the sophisticated and older girl sharing the terror with her. As she clung to Lorna, she saw the bitter sneer in the eyes of the young hijacker who had so humilated and degraded her. He watched them with a look of utter contempt, but managed a smile, too ... a smutty smile!
"That bastard!" Lorna whispered, her eyes following Sharon's to the sneering youth as they still clung to each other. "He's evil ... corrupt ... a fiend! I'd kill him myself if I could. Did ... he shoot the drunk woman in the lounge ... who was singing?"
"Right ... through her breasts," Sharon replied in a soft voice, trying to stop crying. "Oh, God, Lorna! He ripped off the top of her dress! Her breasts were so beautiful ... but then blood ... just blood and torn flesh."
"Easy, darling," Lorna cautioned as Sharon showed signs of becoming hysterical again. "We'll get out of this yet. I heard Jim mention Inspector Sydoux. He's a wonderful man ... very clever. My father knew him well. He's not from the Police, but from something like our FBI and CIA rolled into one. He's chubby ... a little bald, but a very wonderful man. I think he wanted to fuck me when I was fourteen years old."
"Yes! Yes!" the chief hijacker's screaming voice drowned out Lorna. "I will change the mind if that Inspector wants to play a game! Tell him to send out one taxicab to airplane! The driver must get out with hands high and walk away! We will take two of the stewardesses with us for hostage, and drive away in taxi. If you follow ... we kill both girls! Kill dead! If you do not believe, come to plane later and see dead engineer, dead Captain, dead woman in lounge already!"
"He means us!" Sharon exclaimed, stifling a scared, high-pitched shriek! "Lorna! That man who made me strip ... and dance! He'll rape me! He'll kill me ... make me do awful things with my body! Oh, dear God, I knew we'd be hijacked by Arab terrorists! I had a dream!"
"Are you sure they're Arbas, Sharon?" Lorna asked.
"No ... no," the younger girl responded after several seconds of thought, aware of sensuous comfort that flooded her body as her big breasts pressed against Lorna's. "That ... that beast upstairs ... talked like he might be from ... from Kansas City or St. Louis ... after he let himself go and get kicks out of degrading me so ... so utterly...."
"Precisely," Lorna muttered, glancing through the window and seeing a taxi slowly coming to the end of the runway where Jim had parked the jumbo jet. "The other two sound like...."
"Cheap American sluts!" the big hijacker addressed the two girls sharply. "You walk to front of us. You get kill first if that Inspector try to trick us!"
Sharon grasped Lorna's hand, her eyes so filled with tears that her vision was blurred. They had to exit the plane by sliding down the emergency escape chute because there was no ladder and the plane to pull up to the airport's raised boarding lobbies. Why, Sharon asked herself silently, was the big, gruff hijacker so easily talked into Inpector Sydoux's only alternative? Didn't they really want to fly on to the Mid-East?
"Inside ... in back, cunts!" the wiry youth of the trio, who had so humiliated Sharon, ordered. "I sit in back of taxi with you ... and have four more bullets in this gun to tear you to pieces if you get smart!"
Quickly, the two girls obeyed. Sharon entered first, then Lorna. The sneering youth crowded in beside Lorna. The other door opened and the second youngest of the trio, the young man with the haunting blue eyes, sat down next to Sharon. Their burly leader opened the front door at the driver's side, but looked up to the cockpit window of the big jet and saw Jim observing them.
"You tell that Inspector ... to call the father of this blonde girl in New York!" the hijacker yelled, gesturing toward the back seat of the taxi. "For ten million of his American dollar, we give her back to him! He can afford! No ten million ... we send back one tit! I cut it from her body! No ten million again ... I cut off other tit! And last ... I cut off her dirty American cunt!"
As Sharon sobbed, her flowing tears wetting down the bosom of Lorna's uniform, the chief hijacker jumped into the driver's seat and drove the taxi down the runway at high speed. Two gendarmes saluted him as he drove right through the open gate and headed for the N305 expressway to Paris.
"Open legs!" the young hijacker next to Lorna ordered, and the older girl felt the fear that Sharon had known earlier. "Do now! Remove hose and panties! See cunt!"
Sharon felt very strange as she moved more closely to the other young man and felt the warmth of his excited body through their clothing. Her eyes, though, couldn't leave the scene of Lorna's naked pussy. For the first time she heard Lorna break, screaming hysterically as the youth rubbed the barrel of the big .45 in and out of her moist cunny, laughing insanely!
"I be careful, hah?" he sneered like a madman, probing the barrel all the way in. "I get nervous and pull trigger ... no more pussy! Ha, ha."
Sharon bit her lip and looked away. She had seen one woman gruesomely disfigured and killed. She couldn't bare to see it happen to Lorna. At the same time, she found a strange sense of comfort as she huddled next to the young hijacker who had said very few words. She remembered the way that his eyes had met hers in the plane.
"The next road ... has to be right," the big man in the driver's seat mumbled out loud, then turned off the expressway at the suburban village of Bicetre. "Yes! There is the car! We must make quick...."
The taxi swerved in front of a big Citroen limousine parked on a side street. There were people moving about. The day was well underway. But they paid little attention at the sight of the five people emerging from the Paris City taxi and getting into the back seat of the big black Citroen.
The limousine allowed them much more room, but Sharon and Lorna were forced to sit in the jump seats and look their two youthful and one older captors in their faces. The man driving the car headed it toward Paris, but used backroads instead of the expressway. The unmistakable voice of a French woman also came from the front seat.
"Quick ... you take off clothes and put these suits on," the feminine French voice said in fractured English. "You clean off those face this...."
"My name is Boris ... Boris Kowsky!" the chief hijacker said with a smile, smearing cold cream over his bewhiskered face and removing an unkempt wig. "And I like that you meet my two friends-the young boy who likes pussy-gun so much, he is Julian Smith ... from Chicago. And the man who is enjoy the body of the sexy Sharon next to him, he is Ivan Borschev. He speak little English, but he know what feel good! Eh, Ivan?"
"Yesss!" Ivan responded with a hiss, trying to pronounce the unfamiliar word too well.
"All three of you are about as much Arabic as I am!" Lorna broke in, regaining her authoritative personality for the moment. "Boris and Ivan ... Communist Europeans! And Julian Smith! You must be an American Communist ... you shit...."
Julian's gun barrel smacked against Lorna's cheeks. No bones were broken, but the look in his eye told her that the next time would be different. Lorna said nothing. There was no talk at all for several minutes. The three hijackers removed their dark makeup. Julian and Ivan took off their false mustaches. They all put on the very average European business suits that Lilli had handed to them from the front seat. And while there was little conversation, Sharon and Lorna learned that the driver's first name was Igor, and that he was almost mentally retarded. Lorna could understand most Slavic languages, but Igor spoke with much difficulty and little intelligence. Later, one glance at the man indicated that he was both mentally and physically troubled. But there was nothing wrong with the oversize brutality of his sexual equipment.
"How ... how did you know my name?" Sharon asked naively, breaking the silence as the big car pulled into a spacious villa along the Seine in the fashionable Parisian suburb of Ivry close to Quai M. Boyer. "You ... you know Lorna's name, too ... don't you? You're Communists ... not Arabs...."
Only Boris, with his overgrown whiskers and real mustache, could possibly pass as Arabic. Julian had flowing, soft brown hair. His complexion was so white that it seemed sickly. On the other hand, after removing his dark wig and makeup, Ivan was a very handsome and virile appearing youth with blond wavy hair and a disarming smile that could almost melt Sharon under different circumstances.
"Yes, we know very much about you!" Boris announced believably, smirking at both the girls as the car came to a stop at the back of the main house of the villa. "That stupid Inspector Sydoux! Like all Frenchmen, he will throw up his arms and tell the press it was just another Arab hijacking. And your father, Sharon Dunlap, will see press reports in paper, that we want ten million ransom! Good! That is way should be for press ... for public. Only your father, Sharon Dunlap, will know that the real price of your ransom is all detail and secret of his Tracer-Anti-Ballistic-Missile...."
Sharon cringed and fell back into her seat. She wished that all it had been was the ten million dollars they wanted. Her father would have paid that, she knew it! But the secret of the TABM? J. Joseph Dunlap would never give the Communists that!
"And you, Miss Fontana!" Boris said, looking at Lorna with a cruel smile as he opened the car door and motioned them toward the main building. "Your father is listed to be missing-in-action in Vietnam. We have good advice from Hanoi he is still alive. Perhaps ... you, too, might be of great help to us. I would hate to let Igor ... or Julian, do with you what they wish...."
CHAPTER THREE
The villa at Ivry-sur-Seine was a Command Post for the Communist underground in Western Europe. Lorna and Sharon managed a short glance up the stairway to the second floor as they were escorted inside. They saw a room filled with radio communication equipment. They heard voices over the loudspeakers coming back in Russian, Polish, Czech, and German.
"Downstairs!" Boris commanded, obviously upset at their curiosity about the second-floor operation. "You like your room very much, I think. Is in basement, very sounding-proof. But ... very comfortable. Ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha!"
Boris' laugh was indefinable, unlike the sadistic howls that occasionally came from the American, Julian. Boris seemed to be a man who could be trusted, who was fairly stable emotionally. Not only was he the leader of the hijackers, but he also seemed to be in charge of the entire villa. He ordered Lilli and Igor to stay upstairs. And while Igor was both mentally and physically deformed at first glance, Lilli was something different. There was a scar across her left cheek, but it didn't detract from her petite French beauty. Her face was sultry and could telegraph hatred and meanness. But it had its charm, too, framed by long, black hair, accentuated by thick eyebrows that needed little makeup.
But it was the woman's body that appeared to intrigue Lorna. Lilli was no more than five feet tall. She wore a very plain print minidress and had a beautiful pair of legs. Her breasts were very small, but the tight dress made it obvious that she wore no bra, the small and excited nipples out-lined so clearly. Lilli could have been anywhere from nineteen to twenty-nine years old, Lorna thought.
"Take off clothes!" Julian suddenly ordered in his fake accent when they were in a large empty room downstairs, his voice echoing from the concrete walls. "Be naked, Miss Dunlap ... like on plane!"
"Do you have to keep up that ridiculous accent?" Lorna asked daringly, perhaps jealous because the young American didn't want her to strip and show off the body of which she was so narcissistically proud. "You're from Chicago, Julian dear. You sound like a child trying to imitate The Volga Boatman and Ahab the Arab at the same time."
"Shit on you! Fuck you!" Julian screamed in a sudden rage, then knocked Lorna to the cement floor and stood over her, the miniskirt above her waist. "Okay, you cunt! How would you like to get real excited in that joybox of yours, huh?
I'll give you some sex!"
The slim youth mercilessly dug the sharp, studded tip of his shoe between her naked thighs. It invaded her hairy, slightly moist cunt, and he rubbed the upper part against her clitoris. Boris looked on with interest, but said nothing for the moment. He knew that Sharon was also naked and exposed vulnerably between her thighs. His eyes caught the strange look on young Ivan's face. Did the youth want her, too? Did he want to degrade and corrupt her as much as Julian and him?
"Oh! Oh! Oh, rub it! Rub it!" Lorna cried out in a sudden change of emotion as Julian continued to excite her clit. "Oh, make it cum! Make it cum, Julian! Fuck me with your foot!"
"Ha-ha ... ha-ha-ha!" he teased her with his cruel laugh and withdrew his foot. "I knew you were a common cunt! You had to play your role as Senior Stewardess on the plane! But underneath, you're like every other cunt-common! Cheap! You're pure shit, Miss Fontana! I hope they find out your lousy father's dead! I hope he was tortured to death."
"You'll pay for that ... or I'll die trying!" Lorna said, bursting into a rage as she stood up to face the youth. "My father was the best pilot the Air Force or the commercial lines ever had! You bastards couldn't even pilot a Piper Cub!"
Boris came between the two and grabbed Lorna's arm when she was on the verge of striking Julian with a clenched fist as the American boy reached for his .45. The brows of the pudgy Slav furrowed as he glanced quickly from Julian to Lorna, trying to convey a message of simple, factual warning.
"You both be stupid!" he told them angrily, pointing toward a door. "The Misses Dunlap and Fontana are our guest! Put that gun away, and we will show them to their room!"
Julian cursed in basic Anglo-Saxon terms that weren't familiar to Boris. But he put away the gun and followed the others into the underground room. It was beautifully furnished with two large beds, dresser, bureau, dressing table, and a desk. A door at the rear led into a powder room and modern bathroom. There were no windows, only the air ducts that warmed the otherwise chilly room.
"You have a private television, too!" Boris announced, flipping on the TV to a French ballet performance with nubile girls displaying their legs over their plush buttocks as they pirouetted and performed suggestive pas de deux with male partners. "And you have much luxury! Now, Sharon, pull up dress to let us see great pussy!"
Sharon glanced at the three staring men, then to Lorna. She began to cry. There was no choice but to do as her captors demanded. She stood up proudly and yanked the mini to her waist. Her thighs were full and shapely, yet there was just enough space at their junction to penetrate with a thick pencil. Light from behind her tensed buttocks showed through, and smutty smiles formed on the lips of both Boris and Julian.
"How cute!" Julian remarked as he stared at the trembling blonde's nervous, naked cunt. "I could fuck you right in the hole between your thighs ... just below that dirty pussy! Have you ever been fucked there?"
A long silence ensued, then it was interrupted by some sounds outside the closed door. There were squeaky, grating noises, as if furniture were being moved across the floor of the big basement room that opened to their posh underground quarters. Sharon still trembled, terrified, yet afraid not to do whatever they asked.
"Answer me!" Julian demanded, stomping his foot on the soft carpeting, almost feminine in his impatience. "You have a beautiful thigh-hole for fucking. It makes me hot to look at, my dear. Have you ever been fucked between your thighs there?"
"No ... no, I'm still a virgin."
"I don't mean in your cunt, blondie!" Julian yelled angrily at her, then stepped toward her and lowered his hand to her pussy. "I mean between your thighs!"
"No! Wait, young Comrade!" Boris called to Julian just as his extended fingers were about to penetrate her upper thighs and vulva. "It may be possible, she for tells the truth! I will check. Stand still, Miss Dunlap!"
"Please ... please don't put your hands on me there!" Sharon screamed, her face turning crimson as she looked away from Boris and into the sympathetic eyes of Lorna. "Please ... I'll just die ... I will! Oh! Oh, you're hurting me! My God! No man ever...."
Lorna looked at her in a way that conveyed a message, "Don't panic ... don't object! The more you cooperate, the easier it will be on you." Sharon still whimpered and cried but tried to stifle her emotions at the extreme humiliation that she was suffering. Strangely, the burly Slav's big thick fingers were more gentle than she had suspected.
They moved between her thighs and into her vulva, slowly and teasingly going deeper between her cuntlips. She was wet! Why? Why, Sharon wondered, could she be juicy between her thighs at a time like that? She stopped trembling, and her body became stiff. She realized how shamed she was, standing there in the room and holding up her skirt, while Boris had his fingers in her preciously virgin pussy and others were watching!
"Oh! Oh, that's too far!" Sharon cried out as the two, long, thick fingers sluiced up her juicy channel until they pushed against the remains of her hymen. "I'm a virgin! I am a virgin! I swear it!"
Boris grasped her chin with his free hand and forced her to look at him. He blew his hot breath in her face and rubbed his trouser-covered raging erection against her naked hip. His breath began to come faster and Sharon wondered if he was going to cum in his pants.
"Yes ... your cherry still be there," Boris breathed with a viciously sexy smile, his fingers moving up to pinch and twist her clit gently. "But you are wet with fuck juice! Your cherry be partly broken because fuck juice come from in you cun ... vagina ... way deep in it. I no make you bleed now! We see how you behave. Stay there! And Miss Fontanal. You come stand right side by her, pulling skirt above hips, too."
"Oh, her thighs are so full!" Julian commented aloud when Lorna had obeyed, and both Boris and Julian were rubbing the crotches of their swollen trousers. "There's no pretty little hole that goes all the way through...."
"Very sexy American girls, huh?" Ivan commented, but there was a forced sound to his voice as if he felt that he had to say something after remaining silent for so long. "I like blonde pussy ... brunette pussy. Good for fuck love."
"I don't think I can stand this another second!" Sharon whispered desperately to Lorna as they stood side by side, exposed to their waists. "I'm going to scream and go mad! I can't help it."
"Forget it! Forget everything except survival!" Lorna whispered, managing to painfully pinch the rear of Sharon's left buttock while still helplessly holding her own skirt up. "We're going to get out of this, Sharon. I know we are. Just do what they say and forget about that damned cherry! Would you rather lose that cherry and be alive ... or have your tits blown off by that maniac's gun?"
"Igor! Lilli! Come in to see what have we here!" Boris called out after opening the door. "We have one girl who is an absolute honest virgin! The blonde child! Ha-ha! Yes ... real cher ... uh ... cherry, yes?"
"Virgin? Blood fuck!" Igor exclaimed, his bloodshot eyes widening. "You want Igor fuck ... with this?"
Lorna, too, gasped when she saw the hulking, ape-like Igor reach into the fly of his wrinkled trousers and withdraw a huge cock! Not only was it long and thick, throbbing and coursed with pulsing veins, but it also had an almost semicircular curve to it when hard and excited. The monster played with himself and the prick swelled even more.
Boris, Julian and Lilli looked on with amusement as the two American girls shrank back in terror. Sharon steeled herself, desperate to carry out Lorna's advice of obedience, and knowing that her young virgin cunt was going to be raped by the awful, deformed penis of Igor!
Lorna realized that she was fascinated in a way, that she wanted to look at the monstrous cock and inspect it with her sensitive fingers. But she turned away quickly and tried to deny her own feelings. The door to the room was open and she saw a wooden desk with a telephone on it in the big empty basement outside. That explained the noise that they had heard-Igor had brought the desk up by their door. The phone she assumed, must have been there already, or was perhaps a plug-in type that went with the desk and was then connected to an outlet wherever the desk would be placed.
The desk was to serve as a guard post, which meant that someone would be assigned to stay there and make sure that no one escaped. Lorna's mind became very active. Would Igor be on guard that night? Would it be Lilli? The way the French girl licked her lips and smoothed her hands over her miniskirt let Lorna know that the scar-faced girl was either lesbian or bisexual.
"Igor! Enough!" Boris yelled at the grotesque figure, just as the huge, blood-engorged cock touched Sharon's young cuntal hairs. "Later ... maybe, Igor! Maybe I will let you fuck this virgin ... maybe to death fuck her! Ha-ha! But now, I think maybe is enough. Miss Lorna Fontana ... I think she like Igor prick. Maybe we watch her suck that tomorrow. Maybe!"
"Boris?" Lilli's breathy voice interrupted.
"Yes?"
"I want to see that titty naked ... big ones!" she said, her eyes burning into Sharon's as the short, tightly clothed Frenchwoman walked forward. "Just one suck, Boris ... please?"
Boris nodded and Lilli unzipped the front of Sharon's uniform. She literally tore the brassiere apart in front and cried for joy at the sight of the resilient breasts that sprung forward. All eyes were intent, transfixed to the sight of the small French girl opening her cavernous mouth to almost unbelievable proportions and take in one of the purple-passioned nipples and almost half the tit!
Lilli's cheeks sucked inward as her mouth was filled with the gloriously young flesh of Sharon's ample-size breast. As Sharon stood motionless, she couldn't help but feel the lewd and forbidden sensations of sexual response ripple through her quivering body! She almost forgot to cry out in objection when the hot French girl put the palm of her left hand at the crotch area.
Skillfully, Lilli took advantage of the slight space between the tops of young Sharon's thighs. She formed a suction up against her almost virgin pussylips and squeezed. It was a very awkward sensation at first. Sharon was too naive by far to have any idea of what Lilli was trying to do. And then as the young girl's cunt became more excited, the suction became complete! When Lilli squeezed to break the suction, there was a distinctly juicy plopping sound!
Lorna's eyes trained on the observers, her mind trying to analyze them. Igor sat on the floor and masturbated his huge cock, bending over almost enough to put the head of the blood-distended tool into his own mouth. He grunted and groaned. He kept talking to Boris in Russian or Polish or Czech, but Lorna was unable to detect exactly which language it was. But there was no need to know the language; Igor was obviously begging Boris' permission to "rape" Sharon.
While young Ivan stood in the background watching it all with a curious degree of seemingly confused emotion, Julian had taken out his cock and balls and was stroking the erection gently, his eyes moving from Igor to Lilli and Sharon with a strange gleam. But the eyes were diverted when Boris stripped naked and revealed a very muscular, brown body that was extremely hairy. His chest, belly and upper thighs were covered with thick hairs. His prick was big-headed and pulsing, but still almost surrounded by a dense forest of black hairs. Lorna gasped when he walked over by Lilli and Sharon so he could lean down and watch the French girl's fingers at work on the blonde pussy.
The hairs were thick on the backs of Boris' legs, too, and up over his manly buttocks. When Lilli reached behind and opened the cheeks of his ass, Lorna could see that the hairs were almost as thick around his anus as they would be around a young girl's pussy.
Lilli was well on the way to an induced orgasm. One set of fingers still played at Sharon's open cunt, almost bringing the blonde to a subconscious climax. The fingers of the other hand crept into Boris' asshole and sent his cock on a more feverish rampage. Lorna couldn't resist reaching down to feel his manly prick and finger his hairy balls.
"Ha ... ha! I gone cum!" Igor cried out, frantically masturbating the oversized penis and drooling like a sex-crazed idiot. "I ... I can cum in mine mouth! You like to watch ... yesss?"
"No!" Boris called to him, his hairy body moving back and forth with the two feminine hands at his most sensitive and juicy spots. "You wait! Do as I say!"
Lorna tried to guess what Boris had in mind. Her imagination went wild! The sweating secretions of her cunt drooled down her inner thighs. A slight draft that was coming through the room chilled the moisture on her legs and brought out goose pimples all over her. She was almost consumed with a demanding desire to sit on the floor and suck on Boris' cock, drain dry the raging, pulsing blood-inflated prick that she manipulated so pleasantly with her fingers.
As the tempo to ultimate climax rose within all of them, with the possible exception of the curiously strange young Ivan, Lorna noticed that Sharon was still as passive as a statue. Oh, how Lorna wanted to sit on the floor and suck Boris' turgid cock, gulp down his sex juices while looking up at Lilli's fingers liquidly fucking Sharon's cunt, letting the drops of her secreting dew fall down to be felt or swallowed!
But that wasn't the way Boris wanted it. Not for that spontaneous group-sex orgy, at least. He immediately pulled away from Lorna, disengaging her fingers from his almost bursting penis as he jerked his buttocks around to force the wantonly lewd French girl's fingers from his anal cavity. She begged and cried, but Boris slapped her cruelly across the scar on the left side of her face. Lilli got up and backed away in such terror that Lorna felt sure that he had been responsible for the deep cut that had caused the scar.
Julian grabbed Lilli and forced her to the carpeted floor. The girl obediently grabbed hold of his slim, wildly jerking cock and fed it into her cunt, both of them screaming! Boris pushed Lorna to the floor and stuffed her juicing cunt with his erupting penis! Lorna was insane with desire! She welcomed the sudden fuck from the virile and hairy Boris. But as Boris fucked his searing hot semen into her educated cunt, she felt something huge and pulsating at her mouth!
Igor was over her! He twisted his awkward body around until his curved cock invaded her mouth and went down deeply into her throat. It wasn't nearly so bad as Lorna had anticipated. She swallowed and swallowed and gulped delici-ously at his long discharge of viscously creamy cum! She heard Lilli cry out in orgasm! Only Ivan remained physically away from it all. But she could tell by the look in the youth's eyes and at the pulsing, bulging crotch of his trousers that he wanted also to be a participant.
* * *
Two hours later, Lorna and Sharon were alone in their underground suite. They had been fed a very sumptuous meal by their captors and had been told to help themselves to the liquor in the small bar at the wall, and partake of the canapes if they were hungry. The large twin beds looked very comfortable, but Lorna recalled that Sharon's doctor had given her some sleeping pills to help her relax after the excitement of her first flight.
"I think I could use one of your sleeping pills too, Sharon," Lorna mentioned as they came out of the bathroom together, clean and fresh. "We might as well relax while we can, and worry about other things later. I don't think they'll be back to bother us tonight."
Sharon readily handed her a pill, then gulped down two of them herself before passing over the glass of water. The poor blonde was completely unhinged, unable to comprehend anything except that the kidnappers wanted her father's TABM formula. But the suspense dug at her! They were degrading her, humiliating her slowly and treacherously. What would happen next? Lorna only pretended to take her pill.
"Lorna ... this is your father, Lorna!" a voice suddenly surrounded them from hidden loudspeakers spaced throughout the bedroom. "I'm in Hanoi ... and they ... they're letting me make a broadcast to you."
There was a lot of static and fading out of the voice, but it did sound like Lorna's father!
"Yes, Lorna Fontana," Boris' voice interrupted. "We have just recorded this message from your father in Hanoi. He knows that he was wrong to be a bomber pilot and kill hundreds of innocent Vietnamese."
Lorna lost track of all else. She hadn't heard her father's voice in years. It did sound like him!
She suddenly broke down and cried. Sharon clung to her as they lay together down on one of the beds. It was her father's voice! But maybe not! Would Colonel Fontana ever say such things as she was hearing?
"The Communists have been very good to me, Lorna," his voice was saying, the full rich tones that she remembered coming through more clearly. "I had a broken leg after I fell through some trees when I parachuted. They have good doctors who put it in a cast and treated me well. I can almost walk now without a cane or any help.
"Lorna ... I love you so very much! Please, help me, Lorna! We must both help the cause of Communism, my darling. We must!"
Lorna's scowl turned into a smile as her father's voice faded briefly and was drowned out by static. There was no more doubt in her mind. It was him-Colonel J.S. Fontana. And he had slipped in one of their code words-"cause".
The day before he had left for Vietnam, he had told Lorna that if he was ever captured and able to write or communicate with her in any way, the "cause" would mean that he was being forced to say things that he didn't mean, to lie in order to please his captors but not fool his loving daughter or Air Force Intelligence.
"... be able to see you soon," his virile voice came back so clearly over the tape of the shortwave transmission from Hanoi. "Tell the American people, Lorna, that the communists are not bad or viciously unfriendly people. They only want peace ... to live in peace."
"Oh thank God!" Lorna cried out, feeling Sharon's arms relaxing and slipping from her body as she whispered to herself. "You said it, darling! 'Unfriendly!' I remember, my darling ... all these six years. 'Unfriendly' means that you're safe ... you have hope!"
Lorna clamped her hand to her mouth, hoping that Boris hadn't heard her, realizing that if there were loudspeakers hidden in the walls, there were probably microphones there also. She twisted around in the bed until she was facing Sharon's beautiful, naked, soundly sleeping young body. She caressed the girl, kissed her silky blonde hair, her forehead, her cheeks, her mouth. Even though Sharon was totally passive, drugged in a heavy sleep from the two pills that she had taken, Lorna couldn't help but put a hand between the young thighs and feel the dampness of her blonde pussy.
The voice of her father had faded out completely, and Lorna became obsessed with passion. She could see him standing on the bathroom scales naked, with his big penis dangling. She could feel his kiss on her lips, his hands caressing her. Spontaneously, Lorna grasped one of Sharon's big breasts with her other hand. The nipple wasn't soft! It was stiff! It had a very slight pulsing that only acutely sensitive fingers like Lorna's could detect.
"Oh, God, what a body you have!" Lorna whispered so softly that she could hardly hear her own voice. "Father would have loved you, Sharon! Oh, how he would have loved to suck your titties and rub his big cockhead over your wet clit. He could have taken your sweet cherry ... and you'd have begged him to...."
Lorna was breathing very heavily, sucking in the lovely nipple as her fingers worked deeply into the tube of the blonde's secreting vagina. Lorna slowly turned around, her tongue leaving liberal deposits of warm saliva over Sharon's naked navel and belly and in the soft cunthairs. In another moment, the searching tongue found the moist cuntal lips. Lorna spread the younger girl's legs apart and put her arms around the firm, slim thighs. Her tongue invaded the juicy depths and sucked and swallowed the juices deliriously, only wishing that there was more.
It was a strange and new sensation for Lorna, using a beautiful femme's body with her being unconscious, yet alive and breathing, and obviously enjoying the feelings of love in her sleep. Lorna slipped over on top of Sharon's body. She put her arms around the upper thighs and brought the ass cheeks apart until she could see the responsive dilation and tensing of the pink, barely moist little asshole.
It was so basically sexy that Lorna opened her mouth and let the juices from her cunt-sucking flow down into the lower crater. The woman spread the viscous liquid with her finger, and then juicily penetrated the puckering pink hole. At the same time, Lorna abandonedly let her own cunt down on the blonde's face. She licked inside the cunt deeply, synchronizing her tongue movements with those of her finger that penetrated the anal opening.
Lorna realized that Sharon had never been fucked there, probably never even touched or played with there. The idea seemed to consume her! "Oh, it's so good, darling!" she heard herself say softly, but realizing that there was a long remembered feeling of the first time that anyone had ever penetrated her at the anus, and made her enjoy it. He had handled it all so easily and gently, just the way he had taken her cherry. There had been no pain, only deep emotion, love, and the discovery of the wondrous pleasures of exploding climax after long bouts of sexplay.
"That make you look much sexy!" Boris' guttural voice blasted away Lorna's revierie, and she rolled off of Sharon and tried to search the walls and ceiling for signs of a television camera. "Ha-ha ... yes! You never was know it, sexy girl! We see you take bath together ... see you love up to your girlfriend! Lilli, she is mad for you! She mad also for Sharon! At this moment, she watch, too, and be very hot! I will fuck her three times tonight."
And then there was sudden silence. No more voices, no more lecherous laughs, no more short wave from Hanoi. Lorna moved off the bed and let Sharon's inert body stay there. She pulled the top sheet from under the girl's nakedness and arranged her more comfortably, then covered her body up over her shoulders.
Lorna knew that she was probably still being observed, but having seen the desk set up right outside the door, she was fairly sure that they would be monitored by the hidden TV cameras only while there was something sexy to look at. Lorna turned off the desk lamp and maneuvered her way back to the other bed. She sighed aloud, as if relaxed enough to drop off in deep sleep, and at the same time she slid between the fresh-smelling sheets. She faked her breathing, making it slower and slower.
The room was quiet, not even a hum from the hidden loudspeakers. The door to the bathroom was open. The light around the bathroom mirror was still on, and Lorna's eyes soon adapted. She could make out clearly the two small flight bags that the kidnappers had allowed them to bring along. They were still unpacked, on the floor by the closet.
She had a pair of spike heels, bikini pants, pantyhose, and a very short, low-neck minidress in soft green knit, in the bag. Lorna almost regretted for a moment that she hadn't taken the sleeping pill. But she had made up her mind before hearing her father's voice that she had to escape! Her own apartment off Boulevard St. Germaine was only about twenty minutes away by car.
Lorna did a lot of deep thinking. Would they hurt her father if she escaped? No, she decided, because if she escaped, they wouldn't know where she was, and thus any threat to her father would be useless. She would have to be there, to hear and know of the threat, for it to be effective.
Slowly, her ears alert for any slight sound, Lorna slipped out of the bed. She nakedly walked across the carpet, with her feet bare. A smile crossed her lips. Her passions were roused. The sex liquids began to flow and she could feel them inside her hot body and trying to seep through the lips of her dark-haired cunt. She rubbed her thighs together and sighed in self-induced orgasm after her spike-heel shoes were on. Lorna stood in front of the mirror on the bathroom door to admire her hi-heeled nakedness.
Who would be on duty at the desk outside the door? If it was Boris, he might be suspect, but she wanted sex, too, and perhaps that would satisfy her until another escape plan worked. If it was Lilli, Lorna realized that she could easily manipulate the frantic French girl. If it was Igor, only his massive strength could overpower her, The monster was obviously such a sex fiend that she could take care of him in the same way that she had taken care of one of the airline Captains who was big and strong and had tried to force himself on her.
Lorna walked to the door in nothing but her spike heels. She put her ear up to the slight opening at the jamb. She held her breath. There was someone at the desk outside! She could hear breathing and a sound like the turning of pages in a book or magazine. She knocked on the door lightly and held her breath. Nothing. She drew her knuckles tight and knocked much louder. There was the shuffle of feet! The sound of a bolt-lock being opened!
"Da? What want you?" the unmistakable voice of young Ivan Borschev greeted her. "Comrade Kowsky say you go to sleep now."
"I'm not sleepy, Ivan, Lorna said softly, smoothly, readily exposing herself to him as she stepped into the light streaming from the partially opened door. "Comrade Kowsky ... Boris ... probably went to bed after he watched me go to bed ... through the television camera ... yes?"
"Da," Ivan answered, his jaw dropping at the sight of her full nakedness. "All be in bed to sleeping, but me to stand watch here. Where ... is your girl blonde friend?"
"She took sleeping pills ... uh, sleeping drugs from doctor," Lorna spoke slowly, wanting to be sure that he understood everything. "Nothing would wake her up. But ... she's sleeping naked! Would you like to see her?"
Ivan moved into the room, combing back his long blond hair with his fingers, his eyes still ensnared by Lorna's nudity, and going wild when she squeezed her full thighs together and reached down to feel his raging cock pulse about in his trousers. She pulled back the sheet over Sharon. The girl was lying there with her hand clutched between her thighs. The tendrils of her silky-blonde cunthairs growing lewdly between and around her fingers.
"Oh ... da ... dasvedonja!" Ivan exclaimed, unable to translate his feelings into English fast enough. "Pretty ... girl! Oh ... you pretty sexy, too. You two girl like Ivan? Ivan like you ... oh, much, much!"
"Ivan has beautiful cock!" Lorna said, her big, brown eyes meeting his excitedly, her fingers unzipping his fly. "The other men ... too rough. But you ... you are nice, Ivan. Kiss Sharon's titty ... see how stiff it is?"
"Oh ... much good," he sighed, leaning over the bed as Lorna sat on the floor and teased and licked the young sex-hungry cock. "Oh ... beautiful ... yesss...."
Lorna's body swelled with intensely erotic desire! She desperately wanted to suck off the young man's cock and taste and swallow the delicious, creamy, searing, hot semen that she knew he would very soon discharge. She took his raging, pulsing cock into her mouth and sucked. He moaned and sighed and cried at the pleasure of sucking on Sharon's young tit and being eaten so skillfully at the same time!
But Lorna had to deny herself of pleasure! She had to escape! Escape! The very thought of the word meant freedom! Lorna wasn't the type who could stand imprisonment or even undue regimentation. She had to escape, get back to her own apartment, even though she was aware that they might break Sharon and make her tell where it was. Lorna was selfish, but she didn't care at the moment. They would probably torture Sharon no more with her absence than with her there. In fact, she rationalized, they might torture her less because of the absence of her closest and dearest friend.
So, as she continued to suck Ivan's young cock and wonder how much of a totally dedicated Communist he was, Lorna took off her left shoe and raised it over his vulnerable head. With all the strength that she could summon, she brought the sharp heel down on the part of his head that she had been taught was the weakest. There was a gagging sound from his mouth! His body went limp, and he slumped to the floor.
Lorna hoped that she hadn't killed him.
CHAPTER FOUR
"No, Lorna ... it's wrong," Sharon's delicately young voice sighed as the tongue kept going in and out of her naked pussy until she couldn't help but orgasm! "Oh, no ... it's wrong ... they're going to make us both...."
Her words stopped cold when she woke up and saw the fiercely and enraptured eyes of the French girl, Lilli, gazing up at her from between her thighs. The drugged effect of her sleeping tablets blurred her vision slightly. It appeared that the French girl was naked. Boris, Julian, Ivan and Igor stood at the foot of the bed watching. Ivan's head was wrapped in a big bandage, and she wondered why.
"Go! Go! Make it!" Julian cried out with a strange look in his eye. "You've got her now! Keep it up! Make her cum!"
Sharon turned her head to the pillow and tried to pretend that she hadn't reached orgasm by Lilli's expert sucking of her wet and quivering cunt. The French girl brought Sharon to what the girl thought was a climax. Sharon thrust her box at the girl's slurping mouth and experienced a "zingy" feeling between her legs that was as good as when she played with herself, or when Lorna was between her legs. Lorna? No, Sharon denied silently. It had been a crazy and very mixed-up dream! Lorna had never sucked between her legs!
But if it had been a dream, it had been a very vivid dream! Lorna's mouth had been between her legs. Lorna's tongue had licked over her clitoris and brought her to heights of passion that she had never realized. Sharon had a mental picture of Lorna-naked and sex-hungry-eating out her virgin pussy like ... like....
"No! Don't make me do it again!" Sharon shouted, scrabbling to pull up the top sheet over her completely nude body. "Please ... oh, please, don't do things like that to me! Mr. Kowsky ... Boris ... please don't make me have to suffer like that! I'm not that kind of a girl! I'm a stewardess, but I'm not...."
"Shut cheap mouth!" Boris said, then whacked Lilli's naked bottom with a stinging blow as the French girl reached for her robe on the floor. "You are cheap, American cunt! Your girlfriend Lesbian be cheap American cunt, too! Lilli be cheap French cunt! Ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha!"
Boris' crude laugh faded out and Sharon intuitively glanced at the bed beside her. Lorna wasn't there. She stifled a scream, thinking that they might have done something indescribably awful to her. But her thoughts were uncomfortably distracted by the sight of Julian's genitals!
The young American Communist had taken out his penis and balls unashamedly and moved toward Lilli. The French girl immediately went to her knees and engulfed the throbbing mushroom head with her mouth. Sharon watched the scene, feeling passion, but not realizing the cause. She gasped aloud when Lilli sucked on the young, clean, long prick until it erupted!
Sharon saw the sexy girl, naked except for the robe that gaped open and revealed uptilted nipples on shapely naked breasts, suck harder and faster! Boris stripped his clothing away completely to reveal his hairy body! But Sharon was totally enraptured by the sight of Julian's cock disgorging its large load of semen into Lilli's ravenous mouth!
Ignoring Boris' nakedness and the hard prick that was rubbing over her navel, Sharon was completely fascinated by the sight of Lilli swallowing, gulping and sucking at Julian's cock! Some of the creamy sperm was oozing out around her lips. Julian slapped the French girl brutally across the face. The semen disappeared as Lilli literally sucked it from the cockshaft, while most of the throbbing organ was still in her mouth!
"Where ... what have you done with Lorna?" Sharon asked almost subconsciously, realizing that they would probably lie to her. "Lorna was in...."
"Yes ... Lorna was suck your pussy!" Boris exclaimed, standing beside her with his erect cock staring her in the face and scrabbling her emotions. "You be double-sex girl for men and women, too."
"No! No! That's not me!" Sharon screamed as the handsome, hairy, naked Slav with the bloated cock looked down at her. "You proved it! I'm a virgin! I'm a virgin girl! I am...."
The girl glanced from Boris' piercing eyes and raging cock to Lilli's face. A small portion of Julian's cum was still splattered on her chin. She hugged the young American tightly, but there was something in the way that she did it that caused Sharon to believe that the sexuality of the girl was insincere. While Sharon sensed that sexual activity could be her weakness, and a weakness she would have to fight with all the strength at her command, it was apparent that at least some of Lilli's erotic motions were faked. It was very clear that Lilli dearly loved to suck pussy, and was an expert at it. Why, unless Lilli was being blackmailed in some way, did she so willingly do anything in the way of sex that Boris and the others commanded?
"When did Lorna escape?" Boris asked suddenly and just as unexpectedly as the biting slap of his hand that made her scream when it whacked her left breast! "This young fool let it happen! Would you like to see me cut off Ivan's prick piece with a straight razor?"
Sharon was unable to make words come out of her mouth! Boris whipped out the razor from his clothing on the floor and opened it. The dim lights from the bathroom and a small desk lamp reflected and sparkled from the surgically sharp steel blade. Boris laughed cruelly as he honed it skillfully back and forth over his hairy leg, the dark eyes boring into Sharon's horrified look. She closed her big blue eyes quickly, but the terror didn't fade away, even though Ivan himself remained stoic.
"Igor suck cunt?" the slavish monster asked Boris, his breath heavy, grunting during pauses in his speech. "Igor suck young girls good! Igor suck Lilli sister ... only thirteen. Sister have no much hair to cunt ... young! She virgin, too."
Sharon opened her eyes to see Igor standing by Boris at the foot of the bed. He was naked, the powerfully curved cock ragingly erected, the bloodshot eyes staring between her legs, the twisted lips drooling obscenely, grotesquely, more like those of a rabid animal than anything human!
"Your friend, Lorna ran out on you, my dear!" Julian informed her with a smirk on his almost boyish American face. "Poor Ivan was fooled by her ... thought she wanted sex and let himself be seduced by your shitty girlfriend! Lorna smacked him with her shoe heel, or something just as hard. It knocked him out for a while, but now it hurts ... doesn't it, Ivan? Fool!"
The blond youth screamed and cursed in his own language when Julian smacked his hand hard across the compress portion of the bandage that covered part of Ivan's head. He screamed even louder when Boris snarled at him and struck the same tortured and tender spot harder, and again, and again! The young man backed away, covering his crying eyes, but audibly sobbing from the searing pain of each blow!
"We have word that your father has been contacted in New York," Boris spoke, ignoring Ivan's sobs and screams and looking down at Sharon again with his piercing eyes. "He is very worried ... very willing to pay ten million dollars for your release. But ... it is not money that interests us. It is the TABM! I must have agreement from your father that he give us TABM manufacture secret!"
"He'd never do that!" Sharon cried out.
"Igor suck cunt?"
"You fucking, Mongoloid idiot!" Boris shouted at the hulking giant, chopping at his hard, deformed cock with a subdued karate gesture! "Go in the corner unless I call for you."
"Yes," Igor mumbled, his sad eyes hungrily eating the area between Sharon's thighs.
"No! Don't! Don't expose me!" the young blonde cried out suddenly when Julian grabbed the top sheet that she was trying to cover herself with. "No! Oh ... oh, my God! What ... are you going to do to me?"
No words were spoken for several seconds. Sharon drew up her legs and put her arms around them, concealing her breasts while unknowingly almost pushing her anus and cunt from her deliciously taut bottom. Only when she saw the men's eyes, as well as those of the oversexed Lilli, did she realize how foolish she was. There was no escape! She was their naked slave!
For some strange reason that she couldn't at all understand, Sharon found herself wanting to look at the pitifully deformed and sad-eyed Igor in the corner of the room. He was stroking his hard cock. His eyes were zeroed in on her exposed bottom just as the others were. Did she feel sorry for him? No! She was fascinated by his monstrous organ, recalling vividly how the man had forced it into Lorna's beautiful mouth when they had all been naked the night before!
"Your father, Miss Dunlap!" Boris shouted, drawing her attention immediately. "You are aware that we have agents in New York who could kill him! They would do it very slowly ... use razor blade like this ... cut away his penis and testicles by only a few centimeter every day. Blood ... drips slow ... very slow. In one week, or maybe ten days ... he dies! Sometime, I have known a man to live ... but only so long that he watches his cock and balls fall away."
Just as the full terror of Boris' vividly described message reached her, she screamed long and loudly. Two fingers suddenly gouged into the front of her moist pussy, but were careful not to penetrate too far. Julian was leaning over the foot of the bed. The raw contempt and sadistic glare in his eyes matched the deliberate scratching of his long fingernails on the insides of her vagina. The young American's glistening cock showed signs of full recovery, and Sharon hated herself for thinking how she might like to feel it.
Something was all wrong, Sharon theorized. She was still relaxed from the two sleeping pills and ... and the fact that she had experienced an orgasm in a state of helplessness. Being a captive relieved her of any moral blame! If she didn't do as her captors ordered, they would kill her! They would kill her father!
Boris started to say something, but held off. He was too engrossed by the sight of her lasciviously exposed young cunt lips and the truly pink asshole puckering in rhythm with Sharon's spasming body. He honed the straightedge razor over his hairy legs again. The look in his eyes increased Sharon's fear, yet made her feel very strange sensations between her thighs. She realized for the first time that she could see herself in the mirror on the dresser behind Boris and Julian!
The lips of her cunt seemed larger and more swollen than when she had masturbated in front of a mirror once. With her pulling up her legs behind her knees, she had a different view of her crotch than ever before. And the obscene sight of the strange Julian fucking two fingers in and out of her juicing sexhole made the young virgin feel even more wanton! His thumb rubbed over the oily pearl of her clit with more skill than her own desperate fingers had sometimes done.
"Out of cunt, Julian!" Boris barked angrily, his big cock sprouting out hard and veined and purplish from the masses of hair. "I think we like to look at her other way, you understand?"
"Of course," the slim American replied after he reluctantly pulled his cunt-drenched fingers from her secreting vaginal lips. "Sharon! You must turn over. Get on your elbows and knees and let us see your beautiful behind in a more natural position. Now, be a good girl and don't argue."
As she obediently and shamefully turned over and positioned herself so that her raised ass was pointing lewdly toward the two men, Sharon saw Boris and Lilli leave the room. By the time that Julian had further humiliated her by forcing her legs apart and making both her open cunt and anus, Boris and Lilli had returned with a small cart. It contained what appeared to be a small television set and a television camera!
"That's a videotape machine, my darling," Julian explained, prying open her globular asscheeks gently and massaging the sprouting orbs. "I think Boris is going to make a few TV tapes of you that will convince your father that we will stop at nothing to get his TABM secrets. How would your father like to see a perfectly clear videotape on his home TV screen ... of Igor trying to put his big thing in your pretty little pussy?"
"Oh ... God, no!" Sharon cried out in terror, realizing that they could humiliate and degrade her in more ways than she ever dreamed of. "My father ... would die! My parents both taught me that I must never have sex, or even be naked with a man ... until I married! That's the one thing they could never take! It would kill them both! Not ... not even when I was in Paris alone going to school ... never let a man do that...."
"It might even be more acceptable if a young and attractive man like myself was fucking you," Julian said, his hateful smirk in evidence as he stripped naked like the others. "But Igor! What if they saw that huge, monstrous cock of a deformed idiot fucking their sweet baby girl?"
"No!"
"And what if they saw Lilli?" Julian added when he saw the terror in Sharon's eyes accompanied by a slight tensing and releasing of the muscles around her asshole and vagina. "How would they react to seeing you suck her pretty cunt?"
Sharon couldn't speak! She was petrified! Looking between her legs, she saw her exposed bottom again, noticed the twitching between the cheeks of her big, shapely ass. She also saw the "too big" cuntlips pulsing, and she was filled with complete shame! She tried to convince herself that it was a nightmare, a bad dream from which she could wake up as chaste as she had been the day before.
Boris put the tip of his tongue along the sharp edge of the razor, his eyes boring into hers. Was he really going to cut her up with it? Was that what he used to put the scar on Lilli's face, perhaps to terrorize her-into sexual slavery?
"And maybe ... you would look good on the videotape as a naked bald-headed blonde!" Boris said with his brutal, cruel laugh as he placed the open razor on a night table between the two beds and walked over to where Lilli was standing. "See? See what is our French Communist girl looking like with no hair!"
Sharon gasped and swallowed uneasily from the almost upside down position of her head. Boris had yanked off the wig of beautiful black hair that had seemed so real. The scar-faced girl showed no emotion. She was beyond showing any feeling at being shamed or humiliated, Sharon reasoned as she stared at the grotesque bald head!
The young blonde gasped again when Julian tore off the fake eyelashes. Lilli's bald scalp was slightly uneven in shape, every contour of her skull emphasized by the overhead light that Igor had turned on. The scalp was shaved so close that there was no evidence of hair at all, just a gleaming, naked head on a naked face. From the neck down, there was still the petite and stacked body, the excited, firm breasts and the shapely hips and slightly trembling thighs.
"I think maybe should shave cunt also," Boris said very casually, looking the French girl over. "How would like you that? No hair at all?"
"Please ... don't ... ," Lilli responded in a very weak and helpless voice, using the one language that they all understood, English. "You could shave the American girl cunt...."
"I'll cut off her left tit ... if it is my want!" Boris snarled, slapping the French girl so hard that she broke into a wail of tortured crying and brought her hand up against the bruised scar of her face. "Now! Stay you in position on bed, Miss Sharon Dunlap! You do what I tell ... or I shave your head and cunt and ... maybe I cut off just end of one nipple ... huh?"
"No ... I'll stay here ... do whatever you want," Sharon said, sticking her ass up more provocatively and exciting both Igor and Ivan.
She almost screamed aloud again when she noticed that the nipple on Lilli's right breast had been molested cruelly. Just a small bit of the tip end had been sliced off and had a flat appearance. Unless she had been naked and close, Sharon might never have realized it without Boris' sadistic threats.
Boris picked up the hand-held TV camera. Ivan turned on the overhead lights to their maximum brilliance, then undressed according to Julian's orders. Lilli reached for the electric cord on the cart with the videotape equipment and plugged it in the wall. They all seemed to be doing something that was carefully rehearsed, or that they had done so many times that the movements were automatic.
"Spread your knees a little more and look between your thighs!" Boris ordered, and Sharon obeyed. "Very good! With this lamp here ... your face can be of precise recognition."
Sharon cried in an impotent whimper. Would her own father-and her mother, too-really be shown this vile, obscenely lewd videotape of her? Even if she knew for a fact that the tape would be flown to New York the next day, Sharon was utterly helpless! Her body trembled with fear, and also with a very strange tingling sensation. How could it all have happened to her?
"Ivan!" Boris called out, his eye keeping the camera aimed just right. "Fix the girl! What is the matter in your head tonight? Your prick is not hard."
"No is a wrong with me," the young and handsome Ivan replied, then walked up by the side of the bed and leaned over Sharon.
The youth grabbed her elbows and made her shoulders and face lie down on the bed in a grotesque position. He brought the two pillows down to the girl's body and placed her shoulders on them, the result being that her creamy asscheeks projected up and out a little more, and her hands and arms were relatively free.
Sharon turned her face toward the young man and detected how different an expression glowed from his eyes than from the others. He reached down and fondled her breasts, his prick rising. He rubbed his other hand beneath her belly and down to the silky mat of her pubic hairs, his breathing heavier, penis hardening until the head moved out of the uncircumcised shaft and seemed to wink its eye at her.
"Idiot ... stupid, Ivan! Are you in some love with that American cunt?" Boris railed angrily, which made the youth cower and move away. "You look like a lovesick fool! Her father would maybe be glad to see a clean young boy like you fuck her."
"You want me ... fuck her?" Igor asked eagerly, understanding but uncaring about his inhuman appearance, his bestial, curved, throbbing cock. "I fuck her blood out ... okay?"
"Shut up!" Boris knocked him back verbally, then reached down to rub his own inflamed and raging cock while holding the camera with only his right hand. "Miss ... Sharon! I want that you put back your hands to ass ... pull apart. Now! Ah-h-h ... so beautiful is the pink asshole in color ... full color."
"Can I play with her ass, Boris?" Lilli asked sincerely, but with a certain tone of resignation, as if forbidding herself from becoming too eager and excited because of so many past disappointments. "And ... put on my wig and eyelash?"
"Leave off wig and eyelashes!" Boris barked, his body beginning to perspire as he wielded the camera in a grotesque burlesque of true cinema artiness. "It makes to shock her father more! If we have to use these videotapes ... he will give us whatever we want to deliver his only child from this cruelty of sex."
Lilli ignored Boris. She hefted her firm and taut breasts. She threw back her bald head with a peculiar gesture of pride. She rubbed her thrusting, stiffened nipples with her thumbs. She squeezed her shapely thighs together, her buttocks shaking like two mounds of quivering gelatine dessert. As she came into camera range she looked toward the lens, smiled wantonly, and licked her lips.
Sharon had pulled apart the trembling cheeks of her magnificent ass until the pink petal of her anus was open like a crater that became more red and inflamed at the center. Her wet cuntal lips glistened in the floodlight that Boris had trained on her sensitive bottom. The lips were excitedly red, too, and moist folds of firm inner vulval flesh were exposed.
"Move ass up ... body down, my love ... my Lesbian fuck!" Lilli said, aware, too, that the microphone was turned on and that the video tape would reproduce all sounds. "Tell me, Sharon ... it is so necessary I know! Do you love me?"
"Yes ... I love you, Lilli," Sharon said in a monotone, then decided to continue. "I love to suck your pussy, Lilli ... and to be fucked by Igor's cock!"
She moved her head back on the pillow and began to cry. Why had she said those things? Why had she given her captors so much more than they had demanded? Didn't she care? Did she want to get all of it over with, convinced that they would kill her or force her to commit suicide before the living nightmare was over?
Boris quickly moved to the side of the bed when Lilli slid under Sharon's undulating body and kicked the pillows out of the way. The bald brunette's veteran cunt was just below Sharon's face. She seemed fascinated by the open lips, the clearly defined pearl that protruded stiffly and liquidly from its hood. And the black hairs surrounding the lips! Was it all real?
"Suck my pussy ... darling!" Lilli said in her impassioned French accent, thrusting her open cunt toward Sharon's face. "You love my pussy, darling! Suck ... and maybe Igor ... he fuck you from back."
Sharon was too fascinated with Lilli to even hear the mention of Igor's name. Had they drugged her. Yes! It was during the night. It hadn't been a dream! There had been a sharp, quick, stabbing pain in her arm. And then she had passed out again. It had been a woman, not the petite and sexy Lilli, but an older woman in a nurse's uniform of white nylon!
Lilli put her arms covetously about Sharon's upper thighs and brought the virginal cunt to her hot lips and tongue. Skillfully, she opened the taut, juicy, young lips and let her eyes search out for the clit that was almost hidden behind two firmly folded pieces of red and juicy flesh at the top of her silken surrounded vulva. The French girl moaned with pleasure! Boris moved the camera back to the swelling orbs of lusciously creamy flesh and panned down between them. He was just in time to catch the sight of Lilli's long, Lesbian-like tongue splashing into the blond -rimmed cunt and do a hard rub-job back and forth across the swelling clit.
Boris groaned and uttered words of passion in his own language, frustrated because he had to use both hands to keep the camera steadied. Lilli's tongue looked like a snake crawling in between the wet and taut lips and mingling in the firm folds of flesh that made up Sharon's young and unfucked cunt!
Ivan stood to the right, Igor to the left. Both were preoccupied with all else but the heavy scene of the two girls. Both rubbed their bulging, throbbing cocks, but in different ways. Julian, seeing Boris' frustrated plight, reached over to grasp the man's cock and milk it up and down. The American's depraved eyes looked from the sight of Lilli's plunging tongue and Sharon's raging ass, to Boris' immensely, blood-distended prick!
Sharon had never felt or dreamed of anything like it before! She bucked her ass up and down and screamed in orgasm at the educated working of the French girl's fervent stiff tongue! It worked slidingly over and around the spot that responded so much to her very own fingers on rare occasions. Oh, but Lilli's tongue was far superior! Sharon felt the girl's entire mouth kiss her cuntlips juicily, as if a date was French kissing her over-eagerly.
For the tenth time, Sharon looked down into the oozing well of Lilli's open pussy. The insides were sweating and gooey, the thick creams leaking out and down between the taut little globes of her sexy ass! And it was at that moment that Sharon cried out in helpless orgasm, felt herself cumming so sweetly and then shuddered in ecstasy as the tongue moved from her liquid pussy to her asshole and pierced it!
"Oh, God! Oh ... what's happening?" Sharon cried out with a twitch of her body, unable to understand her strong response to such an act. "Do ... it ... more...."
Sharon's willpower seemed to give way. She abandonedly and wantonly sunk her pretty face into Lilli's dripping, steaming cunt. She was awkward, but her passion was genuine. She lapped and sucked and lipped and slurped gurglingly at the cream-filled, slimy insides of Lilli's supercharged crotch. She sucked and swallowed the juices ravenously, like a starved dog! And Boris was right there for close-ups with the VTR camera, but Sharon wasn't aware of his presence.
The viscous fluids of Lilli's resilient pussy caused plopping, slopping noises as Sharon invaded it voraciously and slurped at the juices as if she were mad! Julian, still stroking Boris' big cock, moved the microphone down to the Lesbian connection. The sensitive videotape machine picked up every slurp, every gurple! Almost reaching his own limit, Julian asked if he should spurt his cum all over Sharons' neck and into her beautiful blonde hair. But the hairy Communist had different ideas.
"Igor! Come here, you idiot!" he called out to the monster, motioning him toward them. "Don't bloodfuck the girl ... but let Lilli guide it ... just the head ... into her pussy ... and ass."
"No! No! He'll kill me! Tear me apart!" Sharon screamed, suddenly back to cruel reality after experiencing several orgasms that were shamefully wicked, yet sensuously exciting and satisfying. "Don't make my parents look at...."
"Daddy won't like Igor ... da?" the human beast said with a crazed laugh as he eagerly approached the foot of the bed and moved up on his knees until he could push down the monstrously curved and raging cock to Sharon's genitals. "Poor Igor ... no can fuck American girl ... yet! Ha-ha! Igor cock go inside intestines when fuck ass ... hurt...."
"No ... no ... no ... ," Sharon sobbed pitifully as she turned her head and saw it all in the big mirror beyond the foot of the bed. "Oh, kill me! Do kill me! I'm too debased and corrupted to ever look anyone I've known in the face again."
"Life is too sweet for that, Sharon," Julian's voice interrupted her, and she watched him approach the side of the bed with the grace of a ballet dancer. What a strange man, she thought. "When you really feel near death ... or beyond redemption, beyond going back in time ... then you will beg for life!"
Julian's philosophy reached Sharon only sub-liminally, but it did reach her. She was aware that her asshole was being obscenely and wantonly penetrated by Lilli's tongue again. The feeling plumbed through her entire body and made her cry out in what she could only describe as agonized ecstasy! In the mirror, she watched tensely as Lilli's delicate fingers caressed Igor's mutated cock and pushed the head of it against her pink, sensitive anus!
"I'll die! I'll die!" she screamed in sudden terror as Igor moved forward and the head of the purplish mushroom actually pushed into the tightly muscled hole. "He'll kill me! Oh, no! I ... I can't stand it!"
"Idiot! Out, Igor! Out!" Julian screamed at the hulking monster as if he were on a par with Boris. "Grab it, Lilli! Don't let him tear her ass open ... yet."
Lilli took firm hold of the awkwardly curved cock that writhed and undulated like a snake in the throes of death. She lowered the head until it slipped between the outer lips of Sharon's cunt. The French girl sensed the tempo of his pulsations ever increasing. She looked back to Boris, who nodded his head. Lilli let the tip remain in Sharon's pussy as Igor screamed like a wild, inhuman madman, and let go his voluminous discharge!
The yellowish load of sticky cream spurted first into Sharon's throbbing, desperate pussy, then squirted and drooled out over Lilli's face. The French girl sucked it and slurped it down obediently until the last gushes. And then Boris turned off the camera, but only briefly.
"Ivan! Julian! The grande finale!" Boris called out, holding the camera with one hand as he crawled up on the bed by Sharon's sobbing, reddened face that Lilli had turned around after moving from beneath her. "Open your mouth, cunt! Sharon! Open lips!"
As soon as the sensuous, wet lips opened, three raging, pulsating cocks emptied their frustrated loads of searing hot semen. The creamy fluids jetted into her mouth. They spurted over her beautiful young face, across her cheeks, into the her eyes and even into the honey-blonde hair over her smooth forehead.
Sharon swallowed all that had been deposited in her mouth, then began to lick around the outside of her lips for more. She cried, but she didn't know why she cried. She knew that she had lost her soul, but she also remembered Julian's words. Perhaps she was beyond redemption. Perhaps ... she thought.
"Wipe it off, you American slut!" Boris' voice shattered her thoughts as he threw a wet wash-rag at her face, then continued to talk, more slowly than usual. "I tell you this, Miss American.
The tapes we have made would kill your father! You said it so! But he no has to see that. You put on nice dress ... we make videotape to your father. You tell him he must come to Paris ... bring TABM designs with. Tell him, you will be killed very dead if he not do that! Okay, American cunt?"
"No!" Sharon blurted out after wiping her face and forehead and throwing the slimy washrag in Boris' face. "I was crazy ... you drugged me! But I would never tell my father to...."
"You want him to see videotape of you with Lilli? With Igor? With three men cum in your mouth and face?" Boris barked at her. "No ... I think you do that,"
"And tell us where Lorna's apartment here is in Paris!" Julian interrupted, slapping the reddened left cheek of Sharon's face so hard that it began to turn blue! "You share an apartment with her on the Left Bank! That must be where she is! You, my little darling, must tell us where it is! You must tell us!"
"I ... I don't know! This was my first flight overseas," Sharon both lied and told the truth. "And if ... if I asked father for the TABM design ... he'd never give it up."
"If he sees those videotapes, he would give up much to save you," Boris said, then slapped the same pained side of her pretty face that Julian had abused. "It was not nice for girlfriend to run out and leave here you to be punish! She is no true friend. Now ... you tell us where is apartment!"
"No!" Sharon tried to say stoically, but her naked, trembling body gave her away.
"I think we need some more persuasion, Comrade Boris," Julian said with that awful gleam of hatred in his eyes that told Sharon he would just as soon kill her. "Lilli! Bring the cord ... the extension cord ... around from the videotape machine!"
Sharon's big, blue, terrified eyes widened! Julian was holding a brand-new soldering iron in his hand. She recalled her father wiring complicated circuits with them when she was a child! She knew what it was! She cried out when Julian inserted the cold metal between her legs. It was a wide, bulbous soldering iron and there was no tip on it. A tip would have penetrated her hymen, and the one thing that Boris had stressed was that she should remain a virgin ... for the time being.
"Okay, Lilli ... plug it in!" Julian told the French girl as Boris sat on the bed beside her and looked at her face as if he pitied her. "It will be hot enough to melt metal in two minutes, Sharon ... unless you tell us where your apartment is ... and make the videotape for your father."
"No ... never!" Sharon screamed, and then felt the long, metal phallus begin to heat up inside her sensitive vagina.
CHAPTER FIVE
The horror picture came through to Lorna in a hazy fog. She was running, running, running. Three big German shepherds were barking at her. Their teeth were sharp and she saw them clearly as they snarled at her. She ran some more, but there was a high stone wall around the entire villa. Only when she found the front gate of ornamental iron bars, shaped deadly sharp at their tops, could she see out into the street.
In desperation, she clambored up the cold bars of the gate in her soft, green minidress, and was able to laugh to herself. The dogs couldn't appreciate the sight of her almost bare ass as they yapped up toward her. But could she hang on the iron bars of the gate forever? She couldn't possibly get over the spiked tops by herself. But miracles did happen! A Paris taxicab cruised by. When the driver saw her predicament, he immediately braked his vehicle and walked up to the outside of the gate.
"Trouble, Mademoiselle?" the wiry mustached driver inquired, then continued in English, realizing that Lorna was American and not knowing that she spoke French. "I will help you to escape."
The man pushed her feet up by putting his hands through the ample spaces in the iron gate. When she was at the top horizontal rail, Lorna looked down in terror at the vertical spikes that came up beyond her knees. With some gentle coaxing from the cab driver, she managed to turn herself around, holding her breath as one of the spikes almost slid right into her crotch, threatening to impale her on the top of the gate!
Trembling, she finally faced the big house and lowered her right leg until she felt the reassuring hand grab it. Her heart raced heavily! She stifled a scream! Rooms in the big mansion began lighting up. Two floodlights of superpower shined on her face so brightly that she was momentarily blinded!
"Must hurry, Mademoiselle!" the cab driver insisted nervously. "Your rich boyfriend is come to search for you. Hurry ... drop other foot."
When she was halfway down the outside the gate, Lorna discovered that the man wasn't in such a hurry that he couldn't take advantage of his situation. She slid downward, his hands palming the backs of her legs until they massaged her firm, semi-chubby buttocks through the sheer mesh of her nude panty hose and the silky bikini pants.
When her feet hit the ground, the cabbie rushed her into the front seat of his car, saying that the back doors were locked. In another moment, he was heading the vehicle down the Quai de la Gare along the river, and there was no sign that they were being followed. Lorna was aware that the man was breathing heavily. Her peripheral vision told her that his little mustache was twitching, his eyes eating up her stockinged thighs that were exposed almost to her lap as the mini rode up the fulsome upper legs.
"Oh ... I almost forgot," Lorna finally broke the quiet as they drove for almost a mile with the river to their right, the deserted rail yards to their left. "I ... I want to thank you for saving my life. I don't have much money with me, but I'll send you a check for a hundred dollars, at least ... if you'll just give me a card with your name and address. I'll do it first thing tomorrow.
"Poof!" the French cabby responded, and Lorna saw the sneering lips gloating over the exposed cleavage of her tingling breasts, down to the silky promise of the area between her creamy thighs. "You send me a check, eh? You think I am a fool? If you think so ... I take you to next Police Station and tell them I see you coming from that big house ... run away!"
"No! Not the police!" Lorna screamed, grabbing the driver's arm and almost forcing him to veer the cab up over the curb. "That would ruin everything! They would kill Sha ... my girlfriend ... if the police go there. Oh ... do you remember the address, the name of the street where you picked me up?"
"Maybe," he said with a leering, winning smile, his right hand rubbing her sheerly stockinged thighs and underass. "But I think we can first have a little fun."
The taxi driver had Lorna at his complete mercy. She was afraid to tell him the address of her apartment, so he angrily made a left turn into a large, dark lot in back of the Gare d' Austerlitz train station. Without being asked to, Lorna slipped off her bikini briefs and pantyhose and put them in her pocketbook.
But there was more to the man's plans than a simple, offbeat fucking in the cab! He pulled on the parking brake behind a row of seven or eight other taxis, their motors idling. To the side there was a small shack with a cot, two chairs, and a telephone. An old wood or coal stove took up one corner, and obviously provided a warm place for the men to wait for a call during the wintertime cold.
When the driver brought in the miniskirted American, they dropped their cards that they were playing. Their idle chatter ceased. The driver pulled up the front of her mini and exposed her moist cuntlips and the mass of black, thick, pubic hair. He told the others in French that she was a "cheap American" that he had caught, while trying to run out on her rich French "patron." He collected three dollars worth of francs from each man there.
They stripped Lorna and tossed her bodily on the dirty cot. Tongues lashed out at her white, satin smooth body. A twitching cock slipped into her mouth, and immediately unloaded its potent and bulky discharge of creamy, boiling semen into her mouth. With resignation turning to passion, Lorna let the viscous, pumping fluids roll over the sensitive taste buds of her tongue and down her throat.
Immediately, another man too eager to wait, plunged an abnormally long and slim penis down her throat. She sucked it hard, wanting to feel it in her mouth, use it, manipulate the blood-engorged snake to satisfy her oral cravings for cock! But he, too, unloaded his contribution after only a few seconds.
Lorna was crying with more passion than fear! The man who had picked her up was tall and thin, but his organ was big and veined. She was fascinated by the abnormally large and almost fluorescently purple head. They made her get on top of him, and she cried with bittersweet emotions as he thrust upward into her belly!
A squat, chubby, smelly man of about forty climbed up on the foot of the cot and made it groan to the brink of breaking up. She saw his head disappear behind the body of a tall man who leaned over her and masturbated his impatient discharge on her naked back. At almost the same moment, the fat man blew a mouthful of spittle on her ass, just between the outstretched orbs of creamy flesh, and into her anus, which was distended from the position that she was in.
"Let me ... see it!" Lorna moaned fitfully, her body in a tempest tossed rage of passionate mania! "I want to see your cock!"
The man didn't understand English, and she didn't want to divulge her knowledge of French. In the next moment, Lorna screamed louder than she had in days! She couldn't see the man's bloated organ, but it felt as if he were tearing out her asshole when he forced it past her spasming stricture muscle and deep into her rectum.
Lorna's nymphomania was brought to full awakening! She pivoted, pivoted and swiveled her ass to take full advantage of the double fuck. As the fat man's bulging cock penetrated her bowels, the other man's prick stroked outward from her dripping cunt that responded to each sluicing thrust over her sensitive inner lips and wantonly unhooded clit.
Deliberately, Lorna changed the pace of the tempo that they had established until both cocks were gouging into her excited fuckholes at the same time. Her whole body seemed suddenly flooded with the strongest orgasms that she could ever recall. The two rock-hard pricks drove into her until their heads smacked against one another's through the thin membrane that separated the plumbed depths of her vagina and the bottom of her rectum!
A young man, who reminded her of Ivan by his boyish face and blond hair, wanted her to turn her head toward him. He squatted on the cot and let his heavily hung balls droop on Lorna's face. As she continued to fuck the two cocks below, she willingly licked up between his thighs as he pulled them apart so she could tongue his young asshole.
He was a clean youth, the depraved and corrupted Lorna found out, so she licked into his backhole as she reached around to grasp his throbbing, raging, yet small cock. It was so small that Lorna felt obscenely wanton, as if seducing an underage boy. And, as she continued to probe the little asshole with her tongue, the boy shot off his creamy discharge helplessly over her and the men flipped her over, reversing their sex sandwich position so that she faced upward.
In a state of almost hysterical passion, Lorna began to scream and cry with joy, rubbing the cum all over her firm and ample tits. Another man ejaculated over her, and then another, and another! Her whole body was soon smeared with contributions of semen. Men and youths came in from the freight yards, each paying off the driver who had rescued her from the Communist villa.
But Lorna wasn't a real nympho. An hour or two of being gang-banged by the sex-crazed Frenchmen was enough! The trouble was that they kept coming, and handing over money to the man for the privilege of using and abusing her!
"No! No more! No!" she cried.
No one listened or cared. Why should they? The only thing that they were told was that she wanted to be fucked by as many men as possible, that she was a "crazy American cunt" who couldn't get enough French cock! The telephone over at the little desk kept ringing and ringing. Lorna was aware of it occasionally, but the men were too excited to hear it.
It was only when the taxi supervisor appeared at the door that all the men vanished so quickly. Lorna was breathless, breathless and in a sea of sticky cum that covered her thighs and belly and breasts and face! The man spoke some harsh words to her. He tried to wrench the pocketbook from her grasp to find identification. But Lorna was dressed by then.
The supervisor, who was looking at her sex-slaked body with the same interest as all the other men-the stinking Parisian cabbies and the grimy freight yard workers-suddenly howled with intense pain! Lorna had brought her knee up to his bulging crotch with all the force that she could muster. The man cried like a baby and grabbed at his bruised balls through his trousers.
It was still pitch dark outside. Lorna ran scared, all the way down the Quai St. Bernard to Boulevard St. Germain. Was it a mile? Was it two miles? Lorna had no idea. A policeman tried to stop her and ask if she needed help. She shot back at them, "Am I breaking a law? Go away!" Several cabs slowed down as the drivers asked her if she wished a ride, or made lewd suggestions.
Men in private cars asked, "You fuck ... fuck for me?" A drunken bum lunged out of a dark doorway on the Boulevard and tried to crawl along and lick her naked legs and crotch! A butch Lesbian ambled out of a bistro nearby and said in French, "One hundred francs to suck it ... suck it ... suck pussy."
Would it never end? Lorna thought as she raced on. Finally, there was the street, the little side street between Boulevard St. Germain and the river. Her apartment was only a block away, her very own apartment with her very own fresh clothing and bathroom and....
"Jim! Who ... ," Lorna cried out as she opened the door to her bedroom and saw Jim Dutton in bed naked with the new French stewardess who had been in tourist class. "I ... Sharon's still kidnapped! Why ... what...?"
Lorna remembered the first part so vividly-the embarrassment of the nineteen-year-old French girl, her beautiful body with small nymphet titties but a full-size pair of buttocks that jiggled so nicely, the dark-red hair on her head as well as her young pussy, taking a long and warm bath with them, Jim fucking the girl's unusually sexy and unshaved armpits. And then Jim had forced her to eat the young girl, who had responded so well. She had a small set of cuntlips but was continually wet, hot, and willing to do anything that Jim wanted. When Jim had decided to screw Lorna from behind, the little French girl got beneath them, sucked and licked her clitty and Jim's banging balls, as the big, long, lovely cock slid in and out of her body.
* * *
"Jim ... Jim! Where are you?" Lorna cried out when she awoke in her own bed the next day.
The apartment was quiet. She was all alone with the terrible recall of the night before still so vivid. But where was Jim? And the French girl? Why had they left her there with no message? Had Jim taken the girl to his own place?
"Oh, my head!" Lorna moaned aloud to herself, unable to understand why Jim had been there with the teenage stewardess so soon after the hijack and the kidnapping. "The first cunt that looked good, and he could have cared less whether I was dead or alive! Damn him! Or ... could he have known where I was? Oh, that's stupid ... I couldn't find it myself. All I know is it's out in Ivry somewhere."
Lorna's head felt like it could split open if she moved it too much. She got up from the well-used bed and went to the bathroom. She took a double dose of headache medicine that a French pharmacist had told her was more effective than anything sold.
* * *
"Lorna ... this is your father, Lorna. The Communists have been very good to me. I can almost walk now without a cane or...."
"It can't be true, darling ... ) it's too much to hope for!" Lorna cried, adjusting the shower and then stepping under the warming jets and sudsing herself. "It was a trick! They're trying to make me help them get the TABM secret from Sharon's father. It's not your voice, my darling ... my love...."
Lorna suddenly began to shiver all over as she brought the wash rag between her cuntlips and rubbed the nubby, sudsed cloth across her clit. She backed into a corner of the shower stall and masturbated herself. She remembered so well. She wanted to believe that it was true. Quickly, she turned the water control to COLD and let the almost icy spray deaden her hot spasms that the beautiful memories inspired.
"Forget it, Lorna!" she scolded herself aloud when she stepped from the tub shivering and began to mop at her body with a thick white towel. "Six years! He's dead! Don't let those Communists con you, Lorna! You're too smart! All they want is that missile design from Sharon's father. They know you like Sharon ... so they try to play up to you, too."
Lorna finished drying herself quickly and walked about the apartment naked, fixing a big breakfast, eating it quietly and enjoying a second cup of coffee as she turned on the radio just in time to catch the noon news.
"Much mystery still surrounds the kidnapping of the two stewardesses at Orly yesterday by three men described by police and witnesses as Arab terrorists. The Paris Prefecture says that Inspector Sydoux, who was seen in the control tower talking with the co-pilot of the American flight from New York, says he has no comment ... the girls' lives are in danger.
"From New York it is reported that the millionaire father of one of the hostage stewardesses, Miss Sharon Dunlap, has agreed to pay ten million dollars for his daughter's safe return. However, he refuses further comment, fearing for the safety of his young daughter at the hands of the terrorists, who brutally killed the plane's pilot, engineer and Mrs. Evelyn Furneaux of both Paris and New York.
"The second stewardess kidnapped, Miss Lorna Fontana, is the daughter of an American bomber pilot believed to have been killed when shot down in the Vietnam War over six years ago. Miss Fontana has no other close relatives...."
Lorna turned off the radio and returned to her bedroom to light her sixth cigarette since awakening. She took a dark blue, button-front dress from her wardrobe and lay it across her bed.
Slowly, almost languorously, Lorna pulled on a fresh pair of off-black pantyhose, deciding to wear no panties or briefs. In spite of the intense experience of the night before, possibly even because of it, she felt very erotic. Her body shuddered at the feel of the silky nylon covering her upper thighs and sleeking up tightly into her crotch. She pulled them even higher than usual for just a moment and reveled in the touch of the nylon across her anus, across her exposed clit.
"Oh, damn! Will I never get enough sex!" Lorna sighed, but then relaxed again as she finished dressing. "There's one damn thing for sure ... I've got to get out of here ... go to a hotel maybe. If I don't...."
There was a sudden and insistent knock on the door of her apartment. The bell hadn't rung from downstairs, so she assumed that it must be someone who lived in the building. Maybe the sexy Russian artist who lived upstairs! Maybe the concierge wanting next month's rent. Maybe ... maybe the concierge's sixteen-year-old son whom Lorna had often thought of seducing when she would have time and was in the right mood!
Eagerly, anxiously, Lorna quickly put on the dress, smoothed it down until it was tight against the bulging contours of her body, then slipped her feet into a pair of high heels. The knock came again. But Lorna only smiled, her mind full of erotic, lewd, deliciously obscene ideas. A touch of lipstick and two dashes of eyebrow pencil was all else she needed.
"Miss ... Fontana!" the deep sonorous voice of a strange but elegantly handsome young man of about thirty intoned when she opened the door and he stood there with a key, just about to insert it. "I hardly expected to find anyone here! Much less you! The Police and American agents ... they're looking all over France for you!"
"How do you know who I am ... and who are you?" Lorna demanded indignantly, noticing the almost formal dress of the tall American from his tailored gray suit to his diagonally striped tie. "You'd better show me some identification or ... or I'll call the police."
"Brian Marshall, Deputy Security Officer at the United States Embassy!" the handsome young man announced, flipping out his ID card for her inspection as he walked right in, closed the door and threw the bolt from inside. "I recognized you from your passport picture on file at the Consulate here. Why the devil haven't you reported yourself safe to the Paris Police or to the U.S. Embassy?"
"You have no right to come in my apartment this way!" Lorna protested vigorously, handing him back the card case that held his ID. "I should report you to the Paris Police."
"Yes, they'd appreciate that very much," Brian Marshall mused, removing a piece of electronic equipment from his attache case and walking all around the room with it. "Well! We're lucky on that count. No bugs. My first question, Miss Fontana, is where did the kidnappers take you? Where is Miss Dunlap?"
"How do I know? They blindfolded us," Lorna insisted, noticing the way that his eyes devoured her scantily covered body. "They didn't want me! They wanted Sharon ... and ten million dollars from her rich father! What the hell do all of these terrorists want? Money!"
"Let me level with you, Lorna," Brian said with a disarming smile, accepting her offer of a drink as he sat down. "I'm a Lieutenant Colonel in the Air Force ... assigned here by the CIA. I know a lot about you, Lorna ... and about your father."
Lorna took a long gulp from her Bloody Mary and sat down across from the interesting and handsome embassy man. How much did he know about her and her father? Was he trying to milk her for information?
"My father is dead!" she announced solemnly, stoically, trying to appear as unsexy about the subject as possible. "If you're an Air Force Officer, you know he was reported MIA years ago. The POWs are back, and he wasn't with them! Now ... tell me something I don't know!"
"You don't know for a fact that your father's dead," the smooth and sophisticated American said calmly, logically, smoothing back his almost crewcut, slightly graying hair "I can't say anything officially, of course. But even the newspaper have hinted that many of the MIA men are still prisoners. Your father had a very high security clearance, knew all about the engineering and design of our latest jets...."
"I can almost walk now ... without a cane. This is your father, Lorna...."
"No! Shut up! My father's dead!" she cried out, hiding her tears by turning around and trying desperately to detect the discrepancy in her father's message. "You're just like the goddamn Communists! You want to make me think he's alive, too! It's his voice ... but there's something wrong about it ... what he says...."
"The Communists?" Brian interrupted, his voice low and unemotional, yet distinct and very clear. "I thought you were hijacked and kidnapped by Arab terrorists. The Arabs are notoriously anti-Communist. Tell me more about your father's voice ... and the Communists."
"Arabs ... Communists ... is it a crime that I got my words mixed up?" Lorna asked, pouring herself another pre-mixed Bloody Mary and wishing that Brian's glass needed a refill, too. "Sure, the Communists tried to let me know he was alive. He ... my father ... sent a letter to me after he was first captured ... and a tape recording, too. That was years ago."
"Any relative receiving mail from a POW was visited by Defense Intelligence," the man quietly and smoothly interrupted her as he offered her a cigarette and lit it. "The record shows that you never heard a thing from or about your father except that he was missing in action during a bombing mission over North Vietnam. The last letter you received from him was written and mailed at the APO on his base in Thailand ... almost six years ago."
Lorna tried to keep from trembling, laughing hysterically, or exploding. When Brian stopped talking, the silence was almost enough to drive her crazy. She paced the floor, taking deep drags on the cigarette. Why were they all trying to tell her that her father was alive? If he wasn't dead, she reasoned, he'd be worse off than ever-being tortured to reveal military secrets!
"You know ... you have one of the most attractive figures I've ever seen!" Brian broke the silence suddenly with the kind of remark that didn't fit him. "Why don't you sit down and relax, Miss Fontana ... right across from me there...."
Lorna tried to respond to his smooth, melting smile, but the muscles in her lips twitched uneasily. Why did he want her to sit across from him on the couch? Did he just want to see as much of her legs as possible? Was he like all other men when it came to admiring her body, wanting to fuck her? Could she very easily seduce him, obligate him, get him to help her? How much did he know about her father? Did he know about the two of them before he had gone to Vietnam?
"That's much nicer, Miss Fontana ... Lorna," Brian said with a pause, waiting to see if she objected being called by her first name, his eyes glowing at the sight of her crossed thighs in the nude pantyhose. "You look much more at ease sitting down. You know, I'm still quite mystified at finding you here as if nothing had happened. The concierge told me he didn't think you were here. He even gave me the key to your apartment when I explained who I was and ... dropped a few francs in his hand. Now, Lorna, no more lying! Where is Miss Dunlap? Where did the hijackers take you?"
"They let me go," Lorna began, but her nervously high-pitched voice was interrupted by another loud knock on the door. "Who ... who the hell can that be?"
"Bon jour, Mademoiselle!" the smiling voice of Inspector Pierre Sydoux greeted her after Brian unbolted the door. "This is a very illuminating surprise for me. Perhaps the kidnap is some kind of strange U.S. conspiracy, eh? Or ... why do I find you with Monsieur Marshall from your Embassy? Yes, I know ... he is only the Deputy Security Officer. But ... we French do not fool any easier than you Americans. We know he is CIA. Your CIA knows identification of our security men at the French Embassy in Washington. C'est la vie!"
Lorna felt very strange in the Inspector's presence. They hadn't seen each other since she was a teenager and Sydoux was a friend of her father's. As the man kept talking in his intriguing French accent, he walked softly around the room, gesturing with his hands for emphasis or expression. Lorna had recalled that he was a pudgy and almost prematurely bald-headed man about the same age as her father. But the man had changed. Athough his speech and gestures were just the same, he wasn't pudgy, anymore. He had a full head of hair, either a wig or a transplant, and he looked so much more virile, more worldly than before.
There was something else, however, that hadn't changed at all. When she had been only fourteen and fifteen, he always stared at her, the beady eyes searching up and down the length of her body. She didn't recognize the look then. But at the age of twenty-six it was unmistakable-lust!
"... on French soil, so I have the priority, Monsier Marshall," Sydoux was saying when Lorna became conscious of his words again. "The kidnap, too, was on French soil, and not on yours. So, I will respectfully request that I be able to talk with Miss Fontana ... alone!"
"Look here, Sydoux!" Brian showed his first hint of anger as he raised his voice and wagged his finger at the older man. "Lorna Fontana is a U.S. citizen, traveling with a valid passport, with permission of your government. She has a right ... a guaranteed right to seek assistance from her Embassy! This isn't your...."
"May I please use your telephone, my dear Lorna?" Sydoux asked with a confident smile, his eyes still eating her body naked! "Just a quick call to our Liaison representative at the Foreign Ministry ... and he makes a quick call to the American Ambassador."
"Forget it!" Brian snapped, still greatly perturbed, looking at Lorna as if to communicate a message of non-cooperation with the French. "I'll remove myself from this precious French soil of yours for now, Sydoux! But I think you at least owe Miss Fontana the courtesy to address her properly! I don't think Supervisor LeFevre would approve of your calling Miss Fontana 'my dear Lorna'!"
"Ho-ho! Ha!" Sydoux laughed, grabbing Lorna, hugging her briefly, and depositing a very quick and friendly kiss on her reddened cheek. "I have known Lorna since she was fourteen years! Perhaps ... you are jealous because you do not feel free to give her a kiss ... to this beautiful American female creature!"
"Please give me a call at The Embassy as soon as you're free, Miss Fontana ... my dear Lorna," Brian said in parting, turning on with a charming smile that she had hardly expected but enjoyed wonderfully. "Good day, Inspector!"
Sydoux became immediately informal, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top of his shirt, acting more like an American than a Frenchman. He accepted a snifter of Cognac, lit a cigarette, and sat down across from Lorna, who had supplied herself with a fresh Bloody Mary.
"Nothing to say, my child?" he questioned after a long sip at the brandy. "The whole of the Police in France are looking for you. Your picture, along with Miss Dunlap's, are in all the newspapers ... television. A mob of Americans and some few Frenchmen almost began to riot outside two of the Arab Embassies this morning.
A very bad situation. Did you talk to them before you escaped, Lorna? You know many languages. Did they speak Arabic?"
"They spoke English!" Lorna answered, wondering why she was disturbed with the intimacy of his eyes, the suggestive gestures of his expressive hands. "I told Brian ... Mr. Marshall ... they let me out somewhere out ... out near Orly. It was Sharon they wanted ... for the ransom."
"And you have no concern for her? You simply come back to your apartment? You do not call Police? Do not contact your Embassy?" he asked, talking down to her as if she were still a little girl. "No-no ... Brian Marshall did not come here because you called. He came for the precise reason as I do ... to gain information from something in your apartment. Neither of us expected to find you here, Lorna. Tell me the absolute truth ... were the men really Arab terrorists?"
"What else could they be?" Lorna responded, wondering how much the security organization knew about the men. "You've undoubtedly seen their names on the flight list. Their passports were checked before they boarded at Kennedy."
"Yes ... very interesting," the cunning Inspector remarked, passing his glass to Lorna for the refill that she offered, his voice mysterious and in character. "Shafez-el-Hamid, Del-ma-Shafa and Too-dra-el Dahmi ... but with Canadian passports ... forged Canadian passports! The Passport office in Ottawa has no record of their names, and the passport numbers belong to those of three, natural-born French Canadians."
"Well ... they could have fooled me," Lorna said with a shrug, pouring another Bloody Mary from the pitcher, then walking around nervously, her body feeling sexually alive in a way she denied. "And even if I did know where they took Sharon ... do you think I'd tell the authorities? The Com ... the terrorists would kill her!"
Sydoux's dark blue eyes followed her body wherever Lorna went. What was going on? Oh, how stupid I am! she thought to herself silently. I keep looking on him as a father-figure. He seemed more like a parent when I was only fourteen than my own father did. Lorna continued to think, to analyze her feelings as she paced the floor in the deadly silence, the eyes never leaving her.
No, she tried to believe, how could she have any sexual interest in a man his age? Did he represent her father in more ways than one? He was certainly a more handsome man than she had remembered. And it had been true that she used to think nothing of his kissing her, even on the lips. And when she playfully sat on his lap that time, just before she had started to wear longer dresses! Yes! She remembered! Her father had been drunk, gone to sleep. Sydoux had fondled her thighs, reached between her legs! He had kissed her thighs, too, but carried it all off so playfully as if she were even younger and smaller than fourteen.
"Do you want me to sit in your lap again ... like I used to do?" she asked brazenly, relieving the tension of silence and taking a long drink from her glass. "I think you should come over here and sit in the big chair. That's where it happened ... didn't it?"
"Where is Sharon Dunlap? Where are the Communists you let slip from your mouth?" Sydoux demanded to know with sudden forcefulness, trying to keep his eyes off her seductive body. "Those three men were not Arab terrorists! Deduction ... they would have killed more passengers, insisted upon refueling until they forced us to obey them! And they are here in Paris ... or immediately closeby. We know every hideout of the Arabs ... every last single one! The Communists are more elusive. Many of them are French. My dear Lorna! You recognize accents! You are a ... a very clever and intelligent girl! I must know-were they Arabs? Were they Russians, Polish ... what? Please, Lorna! No ... no, Lorna! You must tell me. I have to know."
The dominating smile crept across Lorna's full, moist, pink lips instead of the Inspector's. As he was talking, she licked her lips, twirled her tongue like a real bitch in heat! She had pulled up the mini and taken down her pantyhose as he watched her. The man couldn't keep his eyes off her. He was weakening. Lorna had the power to make him cringe, to make him do anything to go down on her pussy like he almost had twelve years before!
"Come over to the chair here, darling," she asked breathily, stripping completely nude and sitting in the overstuffed chair and throwing her legs over the arms at either side. "There! Titties! Pussy! Ass! I'm wide open for you, Pierre."
The man gulped down his Cognac. His eyes were entranced by the naked, pink tips of her fulsome breasts. They were stiff, and Lorna giggled childishly and pinched one of the buds. But what kept the usually unflappable Sydoux captivated was the sight of her open thighs. Lorna's legs were so creamy and alabaster, the thighs so full and firm as they led to the junction where the swollen and juicy cuntal lips lay open, inviting him!
Sydoux licked his lips and took off his coat. Lorna began to massage her own breasts, spitting on her thumbs before using them to rub the swollen nipples. She smiled at him, beckoned to him, knowing that she had the formula to stop his questions, knowing that they could both forget the kidnapping, while going back years in time.
Lorna's magnificent orbs rubbed up to the edge of the cushioned chair. She reached down and pried open her taut asscheeks so that Sydoux could see simultaneously both of her silken-haired sex entrances. The man didn't take off his trousers, but tremblingly removed his thick, bursting red cock from them and slipped on a contraceptive. Lorna was puzzled for a moment. Had she misjudged his strongest desire?
"I'm going ... to eat you!" the man exclaimed in a delirium of sexual madness, and Lorna knew that she was right. "Twelve years ... you've tortured me since you were a child! Now! Now, I...."
Lorna pulled the slippery lips of her excitingly, hair-fringed pussy further apart. It might not be true of all Frenchmen, she mused to herself, but she knew that Pierre Sydoux had wanted to go down on her since the first day that he had seen her.
Panting like a hungry beast, he crawled across the rug until his face was up between her splayed thighs. His dripping tongue paid liquidly tactile homage to her pink asshole, then sluiced up to her gaping, pulsing, frustrated cunt. Like a master of French love, the Frenchman tongued over her inner and outer lips, bringing on orgasm for her, but teasing her, making her wait and almost beg to suck and lap her big clit.
The voracious man reached up and slipped three fingers from each hand into each side of her pussy. He pulled the lips so far apart that Lorna almost screamed from the new experience. She looked down to see his whole face in her vulva! His nose titillated her clit, while his tongue went deeply into her vagina. She began to have multiple orgasms.
The sounds of sex psyched Lorna, too. She thrilled at the juicy slurping and popping noises that Sydoux made at her cunt. She cried out again with another strong orgasm when the man sucked her clit between his teeth and bit it. And then his whole face went into her again! He pulled her lips apart, like they were rubber, and buried himself as if trying to literally crawl inside her body.
Lorna looked down as she could tell that he was on the verge of a violent eruption! The rubber that he put on was to keep from messing up the rug or his clothes. Even at the height of passion Sydoux was the clean, orderly and meticulous Frenchman.
"Ya-a-a-a!" Lorna screamed in a wild and final climax for the session.
Sydoux continued to stretch her cuntlips apart until it seemed as if she could give birth easily. She still climaxed! And then she drifted off to a drowsy, relaxing state of beautiful unconsciousness.
CHAPTER SIX
Sharon's naked body was slaked with perspiration as she lay on the bed and looked up at her captors. Only Ivan's young blue eyes were not grinning at her sadistically, wantonly. The thick soldering iron that Boris held in her deep vagina began to get warmer, and then uncomfortably hot. Her tear-filled eyes begged them for mercy, but only the look in Ivan's eyes held any pity for her. And Ivan was the lowest ranking person there ... except for her.
"Take it out! I can't stand it!" Sharon cried out when she could no longer bear the increasing heat of the metal. "You'll kill me! Take it out!"
"If take out ... you make videotape for father, and tell where is Lorna Fontana apartment here in Paris?" Boris asked, his fiendish eyes bearing in on hers. "We have to get that girl before she tell Police."
The idea suddenly occurred to Sharon that they would kill Lorna if they found her, a fact that was later established by blatant threats. But the soldering iron wasn't only torture, it would also ruin her entire set of treasured sexual organs if it came to full heat!
"Yes! Yes! Let's talk about it!" she screamed, then broke down sobbing when Boris let it stay in her, beginning to burn her flesh stickily. "Yes! I'll tell all! I'll make the tape! I swear I will!"
Thirty minutes later, Sharon was freshly bathed, douched, her blonde hair combed out prettily by the jealous Lilli, and she wore a clean stewardess uniform. Julian and Boris seemed like professional theater people-the young American applied makeup to her face with the skill of a veteran beautician, adjusting the tones just right for the videotape camera and the lighting available in the bedroom.
Boris had Ivan put clean sheets and a blue-velvet spread on the bed where Sharon had been so tortured and humiliated. He set up three large lights and continued to adjust them like a perfectionist, occasionally checking the view from the camera that was set up on a tripod with wheels. He could pan right to left, up or down, move in for close-ups, back away for the full views and long shots.
"Here ... you have more drink ... feel better," Igor's booming and moronic voice almost frightened Sharon as the huge Ukranian filled her highball glass half full again. "Look sex ... with clothes, too. Igor fuck you later! Then ... you be real woman ... bloodfuck! Heh-ha! Heh-ha! Heh-ha!"
Sharon's body trembled at the look in the monster's bloodshot eyes, the way that he smuttily rubbed at the huge hard bulge of deformed cock in his trousers. Quickly, she took a drink from the glass. There wasn't much ice left, but the warming liquor did relax her. As she looked in the big mirror of the powder room area of the bath, she actually smiled. She was a completely different person. Julian, too, smiled, very proud of his expertise with female cosmetics.
A half hour more, and Lorna had memorized her speech, at least the outline of it, as Boris insisted that she ad-lib it in her own words, try to feel as if she were right in the room with her father. She sat on the side of the bed and crossed her pretty legs. Julian pulled the skirt down so it covered more than half of her thighs.
"Hi, Dad ... and Mom," Sharon said with a pleasant smile after Boris cued her, and she felt the relaxation of the three strong drinks. "I want you to know that I'm perfectly all right. I'm being taken very good care of by a nice family. See? See the nice room that I have? It's really pleasant here.
"But, Dad ... I must talk to you very seriously for a moment. Do not let anyone see this tape except you and Mom. They ... they're nice to me, it's true, but they would kill me ... oh, torture me to death and tear out my teeth with pliers and mutilate me horribly with knives! Please, Dad...."
Boris grinned with delight at Sharon's performance and moved in for a close-up of her face so that they could see that the tears were real, the sudden change of mood not faked. He gestured to her to keep it up, sound more desperate and afraid.
"And they have Lorna, too. You remember I told you that her father was an Air Force Colonel shot down in Vietnam. Oh, Dad ... they're going to kill him unless you come through. That's the secret, Dad! And if you tell anyone else, they'll kill us right away! They don't want ten million dollars! They're Communists and they want the entire design and a working model of your TABM! They want you to come to Paris this weekend and stay at the Blandorn Hotel. Remember, Dad-the Blandorn ... all the cabdrivers know it. And be sure to bring a working model and a very detailed diagram. They'll want you to explain some things about it, too.
"You can get the Friday evening flight to Paris and be here about nine on Saturday morning. You can leave here very late Sunday night, and get back to New York in time for work on Monday. No one has to know you've been away, Dad. I know ... how you feel about things ... but I know you ... oh, God, I hope you love me enough not to let them torture me to death!
"This is Lilli," Sharon continued, reaching for the French girl's hand and clutching it tightly as the camera dollied in for a close-up of the horrible scar on her cheek, highlighted even more by Julian's clever makeup. "That's what they did to her ... before she told them secrets about the French Atomic Energy Program ... she's secretary to the top scientist there!
"Look at the things they torture people with, Dad!" Sharon exclaimed, a horrified expression twisting her lovely facial features as the camera panned to a table covered with a white towel, instruments laid out in a row. "If you don't show up at Blandorn this weekend, they ... they'll put this soldering iron in my ... my sexual parts! Oh, dear, darling Dad! You know I'm still a virgin ... something like that could ruin me for any man ... forever! And that's the long straight-razor they used to slash Lilli's face! Those are the pliers they'll use to tear out my teeth! And ... and they'll strap me up with these leather confinements and ... and ... oh, dear God! They'll make this ... this beast rape me!"
Boris panned to the right of the table and pulled back enough so that Igor was visible naked from his chest to his knees. He gurgled with crude laughter and stroked his bestial organ!
"How would you like to see Sharon raped with that?" Julian's voice spoke into the microphone off-camera. "After she's raped with that ... and burned out with the soldering iron ... and had her nipples sliced off with that razor ... and her face mutilated ... she'll be glad to die! Save your daughter, Mr. Dunlap! Save her from all of this ... and from death."
"Yes, Dad ... oh, please, Dad!" Sharon cried, her tear-stained face showing terror and pain. "They won't hurt me at all ... they'll treat me nice and let me stay in this beautiful apartment ... unless you don't show up with the designs and model Saturday morning. Please! Oh, dear God, I want to live! I want to be a human being! I beg of you, Dad ... and Mom ... don't let them torture me to death slowly and suffer! Please, don't."
"Maybe we would not kill her!" Julian's voice interrupted off-camera again, his tone dreadfully threatening. "Maybe we could send her back to you ... one piece at a time! The razor is long and sharp, Mr. Dunlap. Maybe we would slice off her left breast and put it in a bowling-ball box to send to you."
"Har! Heh-ha!" Igor grunted from the background. "Bloodfuck ... virgin ... I like bloodfuck young virgins! I do with thirteen-year-old sister from Lilli."
"Dad! Oh, Dad, you've got to save me! Please! Dear God, please save me!" Sharon cried desperately after Boris panned quickly to a close-up shot of her tortured face. "You're ... my only hope...."
"You were simply marvelous, you bitch!" Julian complimented her smilingly before going back to his attitude of sadistic hatred toward her. "Frankly, I hope your father doesn't show up. I'd like to slice off that juicy tit myself!"
Sharon fell back on the bed and broke out into a hysterical fit of crying. The making of the tape had been a draining, demanding, exhausting emotional experience for her. She was afraid of being raped, cut up, burned up, killed! She continued to sob as Boris rewound the viodeotape and spot-checked it. Her tear-logged eyes picked up a translucent image of the clear color reproduction! She knew that she had told the truth, that they would cut off a breast and send it to her father. They would do each and everything that she had described.
For them, her life meant nothing in comparison to the secret of the TABM missile. Sharon tried to justify the value of her life as opposed to the millions who might be killed if the TABM was used in a first-strike offensive against the United States. She cursed herself for being so weak, for having made the tape. Yet, she shuddered when she realized that the alternative was for the soldering iron to burn up her cunt! They would have pushed it to the depths of her vagina and her whole crotch would have been a bloody, gory mass of seared, adhered flesh. And they would eventually kill her probably, if not leave her a living nightmare, a disfigured vegetable!
Sharon burst forth in a new delirium of hysterical crying! She cried no longer for relief from her own pains, but with the deep, consuming sense of guilt that pervaded her distraught mind. She twisted and turned her young body all over the bed. Her miniskirted stew uniform worked its way over her hips, exposing her plumpish buttocks that quivered along with her firm upper thighs. The little stew cap worked loose from where it had been pinned to her hair, and fell onto the floor. She unbuttoned the top of the uniform, realizing that a sense of passion was flooding her body.
"Oh ... oh, I'm so miserable!" the sexy young blonde cried out, reaching for the clasp that would unleash her sensitive and oversized breasts from the confining uplift bra. "I didn't mean it! Don't send that tape to my father ... kill me! Don't send it."
Her protestations were ignored. And through her own wailing, she could hear Boris' firm voice ordering Ivan to take the tape upstairs to "the General," who would personally fly it to the United States and present it privately to Mr. J. Joseph Dunlap.
"Igor bloodfuck now?" the monster asked, his big lips drooling saliva as he breathlessly watched Sharon's blonde pussy moving around under the sheer nylon of her nude pantyhose. "Fuck now for blood ... no be virgin girl...."
"Yes! Yes! Fuck me, Igor!" Sharon screamed shrilly, realizing that she was passionate almost beyond recall, that she wanted to be debased and corrupted as a penance for the awful betrayal of her father and her country! "Igor! Fuck me with your big thing! Bloodfuck me! I'm hot and crazy for your ... prick!"
"Da! Bloodfuck!" he yelled like an animal, his eyes growing bigger as he moved onto the bed and pushed the deformed, raging, blood-engorged organ toward her nylon-covered sex lips, already moist and leaking throughout the crotch. "Igor.
Suddenly, Boris threw his arms around Igor's waist and pulled him from the bed. The heavy body fell with a thud to the floor. The huge cock began to disgorge spurt after spurt of stringy, thick, almost yellowish semen over his hairy belly. The beast held his disfigured head in his hands and began to cry.
"Get the idiot out of here!" Boris screamed at Ivan, who had just returned. "Use the whip on him ... make him go upstairs and go to bed! I don't want anyone to penetrate the virgin hole of this girl! We save that for one of the last things, if her father tries to be hero for country."
"Oh ... ohhh ... oh ... ," Sharon wailed, putting both hands between her stockinged thighs and pulling up against her moist crotch. "I ... I want to be fucked! I don't ... want to be a virgin, anymore."
"Ha! Ha-ha!" Boris laughed crulley as he looked down at the wildly undulating body with her stew's uniform still clinging to parts of her body, actually adding to the basic sexiness of her wanton display. "You will beg for fuck more than now! You will want to die for fuck! You very hot! I like watch!"
Sharon wondered when the change had come over her. She had resisted for so long, tried to think of her parents, her former boyfriend who did no more than kiss her goodnight out of "respect", although she could feel the hardness of his cock when he embraced her. She squeezed her thighs tightly together, her hands still at her crotch. Had the soldering iron really burned her? she wondered. No! It had warmed her inner sex parts to what was left of her hymen!
The douche powder that Lilli had given her made her insides feel excited, too. And there was something about the fear, the degradation, the humiliation, the whole terror of what she was suffering, that made her horny! The frustration was tearing at her unmercifully, exacerbated by the sight of Boris undressing, Julian undressing, and fondling their cocks as they looked down at her with lewd sneers and excited laughter.
"I'll take off these ... ," Sharon panted, reaching up behind the elasticized waistband of her pantyhose and pulling them down over naked hips and legs. "Now ... now ... fuck me ... take my cherry...."
Her body trembled. Her liquid crotch throbbed and oozed. She pressed her thighs together and rubbed them because she was so close that she thought she could cum that way. The two men watched, entranced. Sharon's oversize, firm breasts were falling out of the unbuttoned top of her uniform. The big, bulging globes were creamy smooth, the nipples stiff and red, but without the wrinkles of girls like Lilli and Lorna who had engaged in highly pitched sex for years.
Sharon rolled back slightly and put her legs way up in the air! She grabbed a thigh with each arm and pulled them apart. Once again, she was entranced to look down at her own genitals. The small lips were swollen and pinkish-red, glossy with the juicy secretions from inside her body. But the lips didn't part like those of older or more sexually experienced women. It was only when she was on her elbows and knees, bucking her plumpish young orbs up into the air that the lips opened by themselves.
Boris licked his lips! He spontaneously reached over to grasp Julian's young cock. Julian immediately returned the gesture, pumping away at Boris' prick as they both watched Sharon continue to perform, to beg, to cry out and plead!
"Jul ... ian!" she gasped breathlessly, admiring the youth and freshness of his young organ that Boris' hand silently and slowly pumped. "You'll put it in me, won't you?"
Sharon heard the words come out of her own mouth, yet she couldn't believe it! How could she, Sharon Dunlap, sworn to virginity until her marriage, be begging for a man to penetrate her sexual parts? Her face was inflamed. Her whole body was red with shame! Or, she tried to think, was it passion? If so, was it real passion? Did she want Boris or Julian to take her? Would she prefer that Igor rape her quickly and get it over with, tear open her gateway to juicy sex and expand the sweating walls of her yearning vagina in one or two thrusts? And would she like to feel his searing hot, yellowish semen spurting into her virginal cunt?
"Sit up, my dear," Julian coaxed her with his pleasing, comfortable voice. "Let's get the rest of these clothes off, so you'll be deliciously naked like Boris and I. There ... we go! Oh, don't fret, sweet thing ... I'll hang the uniform ... and the bra ... and also the pantyhose, right over the chair here."
Sharon raised herself with her hands until she was sitting on the side of the bed. She spread her legs as far as she could, both fearing and hoping in some inexplicable way, that Boris would suddenly go wild and rape her with his blood-engorged cock! But it had been Julian's younger penis that had intrigued her before!
"Boris ... will you fuck me first?" she asked in a breathy, pleading whisper, while Julian was still putting her clothes neatly over the back of the chair. "I want you to do it, Boris! Your ... prick ... in me!"
"She like prick now, she say!" Boris forwarded her words to Julian, who came back beside him at the bed. "We got two prick, eh, Julian? We give her, eh?"
Sharon's deep-blue eyes darted from one penis to the other, from one face to the other! What was wrong? she wondered. Was it just because they wanted to save her cherry for Boris to break when and if they needed to videotape it to send to her father ... if he refused to honor her first request?
"I think you're a very disappointed nymphomaniac, Sharon," Julian said with a smirk as he grabbed Boris' cock again and began to pump it. "Yes, you're just like Lilli. She can't get enough. Hear the 'bzzz'? She's using a vibrator on her pussy in the bathroom. She'll fuck or suck anything-man, woman."
"Suck ... ," Sharon murmured, the word strangely thrilling her. "She ... sucked me...."
"Da!" Boris voiced, moving up until the pur-plishly bulging head of his dark, hair-forested cock was barely two inches from her face. "If you be cock-crazy American girl like you friend ... you like suck...."
Sharon's eyes bulged at the close view of his penis. The slit in the middle of the fascinating mushroom head appeared to be a very tiny mouth. It moved! It opened and closed, and very minute driblets of thin, milky fluid pushed out the miniaturized "lips". When the pressure was too great, the drop moved and slid down the underside of the bloated, pulsing, purple-headed organ. And the "lips" almost closed. But then, more of the thin milk oozed forward and opened them again.
Julian, noticing her interest, milked out Boris' cock until several of the driblets fell on two fingers of his left hand that he had placed beneath the man's organ. Sharon threw her head back and to the side as he tried to put the driblets from his fingers to her wantonly open, full and slightly moist lips. Slowly, she turned her beautiful inquisitive face back toward them. Her eyes looked at their genitals. Her lips licked the pre-secretion from Julian's fingers as if she were in a trance, not realizing what her mouth was doing.
"You ... you don't want to ... to screw me?" she asked, looking into their eyes with pitiful hurt, awe and wonder. "You ... you're not going to ... are you? The one thing ... right now ... I want! I want to be defiled, raped! I want to hurt! And ... you won't do it ... will you....?"
"Oh, I couldn't think of raping you, dear girl," Julian said, pushing his youthful, pulsingly hard and smooth penis up to her until the tip touched the head of Boris' organ. "But I dearly love soft lips on my cock!"
"I'll make you cum, cheri! I suck your pussy!" Lilli cried out as she walked from the bathroom naked and proudly displayed her jingling titties and the full, small body, her thighs and creamy belly quivering. "You go ... suck pricks! is good...."
Boris and Julian moved toward her and she closed her eyes for a moment. She felt the lubricated bulb of the Slav's cockhead, and she was forced to open her eyes again and look down over her nose. The dark penis slid into her mouth from her left, the young and sweet cock pushed in from her right. A strange and forbidden rapture filled her body! She pushed one big tit between Boris' legs, the other between Julian's.
"Oh ... awgh ... glub!" Sharon gurgled at the feel of Lilli's tongue in her crotch, moving her splayed thighs further apart to receive optimum entrance.
"No! We don't want her to cum!" Boris barked harshly, squeezing Sharon's right breast between his thighs as he tried to kick the French girl away. "You go to bed ... it's late!"
"Please, Boris ... I have so little pleasure is mine alone ... to suck young and beautiful pussy," she said, almost crying. "I do all for you ... your friends, the General, everybody...."
"Oh, let her do it," Julian insisted in his flamboyantly breezy manner that Sharon tried to figure out. "I like to hear pussies being sucked, Boris! It's so juicy sexy!"
"Please ... yes, Boris....?" Lilli begged.
"Da, go ahead!" Boris yelled at the girl with sadistic amusement, watching her clutch at her breasts where he had kicked her. "You suckoff ... she suckoff! Ha-ha! Crazy French cunts...."
Lilli maneuvered her small, firm, stacked body until she was sitting on the floor, her legs under the bed, her mouth in perfect alignment for access to Sharon's wet, young cunt. She stared at the beauty of it for a moment-the small, slightly puffed, pinkish lips and the silken blonde hairs surrounding them and trying so hard to grow up into a big triangle over her puffy mons and belly.
Sharon didn't quite know what to do. She opened her mouth wider so that the two cocks could slide in at an angle, yet squeeze into a side-by-side position as they fucked farther in. Her mouth felt so filled, so bloated. She wanted to resist, but she liked the sensations, too. Boris thrust almost down to her throat! She thought she would gag! But she began to suck and, at the same time, reach out and fondle their weighty balls-an unexpected thrill! She sensed that later on she might want to put her fingers back to their assholes. But, no! How could she think of lewd and sexy-awful things like that?
"Ah-Ah! Mouthfucking ... good!" Boris exclaimed, slapping his hip bone against the soft cheeks as he forced the gorged cock in her and reached down to maul her tit brutally. "Julian ... ha! Have a tit! We make it good for her."
Sharon gulped and sighed when Lilli put her femininely soft arms around her splayed thighs. Lilli's tongue gently parted the lips of her swelling, pulsating pussy! And when the wet, searching tongue slid noisely through her inner cuntal flesh and then laved the tiny clit, Sharon knew that she had orgasmed! She began to suck harder on the two cocks that were fucking her mouth. They were so bulbously swollen! And they throbbed as they pushed in and out of her mouth until she could feel another blast of super-passion begin to rack her emotion-thrilled body!
"Out! Out, Julian! Out, Lillian!" Boris ordered with completely unexpected suddenness as he grabbed Lilli by her hair and tore her mouth away from Sharon's swollenly tender young cunt. "Ha-ha! How you feel, girl? No cock to suck ... no Lilli to suck-fuck pretty fucking-hole!"
"Please ... please rape me! Come back ... oh-ho-ho! I'll go crazy ... oh-ho-ho ... ," Sharon sobbed pitifully when suddenly denied even the touch of another's flesh on her naked, moist, hot body, and especially the oversize globes that jutted forward. "I'm ... I'm going crazy! Got to ... to cum...."
"Stop it! I forbid!" Boris snarled at the cowering Sharon as he moved forth and knocked her arm aside with so much force that she thought it was broken! "You no play that pussy to cum ... feel good. No! You now tell us where you think is girlfriend, Lorna! Where is that apartment in Paris you would share with her. Speak!"
"I ... oh-ho-ho-ho ... honestly don't know!" Sharon lied loudly, the pain twisting her facial features as she clutched at her injured arm. "I told you...."
"Where is that apartment?" Julian demanded, slapping her tear-streaked face back and forth in a steady rhythm that made her reddened cheeks swell, the tears splattering all over. "I'll cut off a nipple with that razor, you cheap bitch! What's the address?"
"Honestly ... don't know ... ," she lied, crying and in mental and physical torture, turning almost hysterical when young Julian cleared his throat and spit right in her face. "Can't tell you because ... don't know...."
"A lie! A filthy American lie!" Boris screamed at her, then ordered Lillian to go in the bathroom and bring out two damp towels. "How can be you not know where you live when in Paris ... eh? What address you tell taximan take you to?"
"Lorna and I ... were together!" Sharon shrieked, trying to imagine what Boris would do to her with two damp towels as she heard the water running in the bathroom. "Lorna was going to tell the cabdriver...."
"Liar! Filthy slut of American trash!" Boris yelled impatiently, slapping her tender, pained cheek and forcing her to cry out again. "Get on the bed ... roll over ... over! Be on your belly! Now ... we put some two pillows under your cunt...."
Sharon sobbed weakly, resignedly. How could they be so certain that she knew the address of the apartment? Her story was so logical, she thought. But then her mind was distracted as the petitely stacked French girl came from the bathroom, her body undulating with excitement, her small waist and creamy belly with the large forest of cunthairs reminding her of Lorna! She wanted suddenly to see Lorna naked! She wanted to be forced to do something nakedly lewd and deliciously, juicily obscene ... with Lorna!
"Oh, what a beautiful ass!" Julian cried out, clapping his hands together at the sight of Sharon's upraised hillocks and deep crease in between them. "Pink! Her asshole is really pink! Look, Lilli! It's so young and pretty it could belong to a thirteen-year-old ... girl or boy...."
While Julian stood' at the foot of the bed and looked up between the backs of Sharon's young, slightly spread thighs and fondled his throbbing cockshaft and the moist softness of its mushroom head, Lilli handed over one of the wrung-out towels to Boris. The towels were of the large Turkish variety familiar at steam baths and on the beach. The hairy-bodied Slav doubled the big, wet towel and it was still over two feet in length and rolled up in almost the same position as when Lilli had wrung it out.
The French girl joined Julian at the foot of the bed. They only noticed the pitiful look of erotic terror that twisted up the lovely features of the blonde's face. Their main interest was her ass! Lilli reached behind Julian and smoothed her hands teasingly across his almost hairless buttocks, realizing how much like a woman's they felt-sexy, fatty, firm!
When Boris spread Sharon's beautiful legs apart more, all three sets of eyes were almost mesmerized! They traveled from the shapely smooth calves, over the backs of her knees, and up the perfectly formed thighs that grew into the rounded, milky-white hillocks of her upthrust asscheeks! The valley between the nervous orbs began almost at the small of her back. As the mounds became higher, the puckered pinkness of her clean, young, barely-moist asshole came into view. A fraction of an inch below, the silky strands of shorter, blonde, pubic hairs appeared. As the hairs became longer, they surrounded a pair of swollen lips that were almost bald because of the sparseness and sheerness of the blonde growth. The lips were almost closed, but swelled out and puffed, appearing just as deliciously oversized for such a young girl as the tits of which she was so secretly and subconsciously proud.
"You leak, pretty girl ... tramp!" Boris complimented her, then scowled as he held the twisted wet towel over his shoulder. "Just a little now ... I see you cream drizzle on pussylips. Now! You tell us where is Lorna apartment?"
"I ... I don't know!" Sharon cried out, then screamed in terror at the unusual force and surprise of the first blow of the wet towel that hit her left buttock. "No! I don't know! I swear it! She ... was going to take me there...."
Julian and Boris laughed to see the violent twitching of her plump and reddening backsides as the sting of the flipping wet towel traversed from one to the other. At the moment of impact, a very strong quiver would erupt from both plump cheeks as well as the backs of her fulsome, firm thighs. Then, her legs would tense, she would cry out, and press her upper body so hard against the bed that the huge breasts bloated out at either side of her chest, squashed against the sensual feel of the velvet bedspread.
"You punish right ass ... I punish left ... together!" Boris told Lilli, then slapped her hard across the tender scar when she didn't move. "You do!"
"No ... I can't," Lilli said, about to cry herself as she continued to frig Julian's throbbing organ with her hand and squeeze her thighs together erotically and with a liquid plop sound. "You'll make her go mad, Boris ... like you did me last month ... and to the German girl the next day ... and the Japanese stew...."
Without missing a single beat of the tempo he had achieved in popping Sharon on her buttocks, Boris slammed the edge of the wet towel against Lilli's cut nipple with a zinging, stinging flip! The French girl screamed, then fell to the floor in a frenzy of abandon and began to gouge at her black haired cunt furiously with both hands. She was like a woman possessed, mad! But Boris paid no attention, the next cruel flip of the towel stinging against the left cheek of the tortured Sharon's beautiful, swelling orbs.
Julian picked up the towel and folded it like Boris'. He cleared his throat and spit nastily toward Lilli's nympho pussy as the girl continued to almost mutilate her genitals to make herself cum. When Boris wielded his towel against the right buttock on the next cycle, Julian bore down with a hard slap on Sharon's left buttock.
"Ow! Oh, God, no!" she wailed in genuine pain! "I can't stand anymore! But ... if I told you an address, it would be a lie! I don't know the address! I swear to God in Heaven, I don't know!"
Lilli rolled around on the floor, still masturbating herself, still screaming and crying. But the men paid no attention to her at all. Their eyes were absorbed by the big bouncing orbs of Sharon's buttocks. The shimmering, quivering globes of her backsides were turning from a pink to a deep red. They swelled temporarily from the constant pounding with the two wet towels. The young girl's sexual secretions were doing far more than just "leaking."
Boris was so inflamed when he saw the thin drool of erotic juices seep out from the puffed, but still almost closed cuntlips, and make a big spot on the dark-blue velvet of the bedspread, that he lost control! Like a wild man, he dropped the towel and jumped on top of the stunned blonde. His thick, creamy semen jetted out over the sore orbs and in between them, forming a pool at her anus.
With his cock still hard and erupting dribbles of searing hot semen, he pressed the head of it between her cheeks mercilessly! He drove the head into her asshole, forcing along with it, the lubricous warmth of the slick, slimy liquids! Sharon was beyond screaming or crying because the pain was too unbearable! She began to gag and choke! Both Lilli and Julian tried to pull Boris away, but he was slaked with perspiration, his face a blood red.
"Give me ... address!" he managed to grunt as he felt the head of his cock stretching and stretching the ring-muscled entrance to her rear. "I break your ass apart! What address?
What...?"
"Boris! She may be telling the truth!" Julian yelled, not because he cared about what the man did to Sharon, but because he genuinely felt that she might not know. "You could rip her stricture muscle, Boris! I don't think she knows...."
"Fool! American ... fool!" Boris railed, his face turning almost purple as he kept pressing forward. "She has to give ... address where stay in France ... to French custom and ... immigration...."
"But she didn't go through customs and immigration!" Julian reminded his Communist colleague. "We kidnapped them...."
"No ... she must have to give address before ... before leave New York...."
"Maybe Lorna gave them the address for both!" Julian tried to rationalize, believing Sharon. "Take it out, Boris! You know the General will be just as mad if you split her ass as if you break her cherry!"
"Alyeee-oh-oh-oh!" Boris yelled in frustrated anger as his cockhead was suddenly forced out by the muscular push that Sharon managed to. give it with her tight sphincter at just the right moment. "You bitch! Whore! I should kill you now. Oh, that fucking General! How will he know? He will be in New York when we fuck her cherry, if he not get Mr. Dunlap. And ... if Mr. Dunlap comes ... ha-ha ... General will not care what we do with her...."
With the awful pressure and pain gone from her tensely tight virgin anus, Sharon managed to look over her shoulder. She was amazed to see that Boris' bulging cock was still almost completely hard! Julian's, too, was hard! And Lilli was lifting herself up from the floor, her look of misery turning into a smile as their eyes met.
Boris snarled curse words in a language that none of them understood, his eyes trained on Sharon's frightened face. "I got to fuck in your body! Yes ... it is forbidden to break you open in front or back! Anyone who take cherry before Sunday ... he get killed! But, by God ... you going to get fuck in mouth!"
Julian grabbed Sharon's arm and pulled her up into a sitting position. Boris helped to drag her over to the side of the bed as before. Their bodies glistened with perspiration. The two men approached her face, guiding their raging cocks to the open lips. Sharon spread her legs as Lilli came between them and flipped the blonde's clit with the tip of her tongue until Sharon felt alive again!
"No!" Julian ordered, jabbing Lilli's sore and throbbing tit with his knee. "We don't want her to enjoy this too much...."
Lilli moved out and stood in the background. The petite French girl turned her head and licked her shoulders and upper arm. She raised the arm high and licked underneath in the hairy, un-shaved pit, too. With her other hand, she played between her thighs, letting her middle finger concentrate shamelessly on her clit. Who would believe that only a few months before she had been the highest paid private secretary in the French Atomic Agency, that she had a college education in science, and that she had been engaged to marry one of the handsomest young Majors in the French Air Force, a brilliant pilot who flew exclusively for the Agency in relation to their nuclear testing?
The French girl's eyes were weary and a little bloodshot. But their fascination at watching the wildly wanton sucking of the pretty American blonde's mouth was too much to resist. Both big pricks were fucking in and out between the small lips from either side. The men would sometimes vary their strokes, and Lilli could see Sharon's right cheek puff out when Boris went in forcefully from her left, then the left cheek bulge with Julian's wet and squishing penetration from the right.
Lilli began to sigh audibly as she worked her slushy, slimy, frustrated cunt to yet another orgasm. The two men stood on tiptoes and put their right hands behind Sharon's head. They thrust downward until the blonde was gagging terribly! But the lips never ceased sucking, the throat muscles never stopped milking the cocks down. Lilli recalled the bittersweet sensations of having her sex-crazed mouth and throat stuffed with two raging and pulsating penises in the same manner. And, as she pinched her big clit until it hurt before slipping away from her fingers, she cried out in one of the best climaxes that she had ever made for herself!
"Maybe ... I let Lilli make some sex for you," Boris panted heavily as Sharon reached between their legs to fondle their sperm-laden balls and finger in the moist flesh behind them. "But ... you must tell if know where co-pilot Jim Dutton stay in Paris this time. He make a room in different hotel ... not always same one. You tell?"
Sharon's big blue eyes searched the men's faces.
More than anything else, she wanted to have her pussy sucked ... or to be raped. Yet, she had no idea where Jim Dutton might be staying, unless it was with Lorna. And why? Why did they want to know about Jim Dutton? He was no part of her father's TABM work. Of course, both she and Lorna had a personal interest in Jim, but it wasn't important enough for them to be concerned with. Did they suspect that he might be at the apartment with Lorna? No, certainly not, Sharon reasoned. They wanted the name of a hotel! What was Jim Dutton's connection? How could he possibly be involved?
The idea frightened Sharon momentarily, but then she felt the two, gouging, raging penises plumb the depths of her throat again! She realized suddenly that she wasn't gagging anymore, that the sensations were so acutely erotic, so lewd and basically sexual, that she was responding orally!
"No can hold again!" Boris yelled, cursing himself for the lack of staying power that the sweetly delicate and big-titted blonde cheated him of. "Okay! Both ... same time ... ah-alyeee ... yee ... yee!"
Lilli stopped frigging herself and walked up to them after Sharon had gestured dramatically that she didn't know where Jim Dutton might be staying. The long pricks bloated to their limits in Sharon's eager throat. Lilli could see the shafts pulse and engorge her mouth, the throat muscles "milk" at the bulbous heads buried so deeply. The double explosions of the viscously slimy, slippery and thick-creamed discharges were too much for a mouth and throat not used to such fullness.
The sperm began to ooze out around the young stew's lips and drip to her chin. She leaned back just a little, and more of the cream-oil fluid collected all around her mouth, inundating her lips with creamy goo that began to slide over her cheeks, too. She gulped and swallowed as fast and as suckingly as she could, reveling in the obscene role that she was playing!
"Now, darling Lilli ... go!" Julian said with a very satisfied grin on his evil face. "Lick up the good, pasty cream and ... fuck her!"
The two men looked on with keen interest, but little passion. The crotches of both girls were pools of feminine liquids. Like a rutting, slavering, crazed, male animal, Lilli pushed the surprised but excitedly aroused Sharon back on the bed! She moved the young girl's body so that it was all on the bed! She pounced on the blonde! She ground her distended inner cuntlips into the top of the warm, wet, silky-haired pussy. Lilli's inner lips could actually "fuck" Sharon's oversexed clit.
Their legs were slightly parted, and Lilli had her left leg almost on top of Sharon's so that their flooding sexual organs could slosh and sluice together at optimum contact! There were also plopping and slopping noises when one cunt would create a lubricous vacuum with the other, then break away!
While Boris seemed more intent on observing the fleshy, red, juicy, hair-fringed cunts going at it in dyke-and-femme flatfuck style, Julian was excessively excited by observing the two girls' faces making love. Lilli hungrily licked and sucked the creamy sperm from Sharon's swollen lips, from her chin and from her cheeks. And then their tongues began to play a game of tag with each other. The saliva from Lilli's full-lipped mouth floated down to Sharon's, and she swallowed the sexualized juices as if she were starved!
It was obvious from their sloshing contacts, liquid kisses, mutual tit-rubbing, and plopping bellies that both were having multiple orgasms. For Lilli, it was a dream come true. Since she had been at the villa, she had never wanted to make it with another female so desperately. Knowing that Boris and Julian were observing brought out the exhibitionist in her, too. Her hands caressed Sharon's head and drew their mouths even closer.
"I love you ... love, cheri!" Lilli panted breathlessly into Sharon's mouth, then put their lips back together in a strong French kiss as their lubricated crotches worked together to another screaming pitch of orgasm. "Do you love me, too?"
"That's enough love for you! It gets late," Boris broke in, pulling them apart. "You go upstairs to bed ... Ivan brings food for Sharon girl...."
Sharon seemed more terrified than pleased by the way that Lilli used the word "love." It was wickedly abnormal! True, she had enjoyed sex with Lilli. She could justify that by thinking that it was better than being penetrated by a man! As Lilli blew her a kiss uopn leaving, and Sharon returned a weak smile, the blonde had no idea that the French girl was thinking of next time, the time when she would be called upon to lick and love her backsides after Boris ass-fucked her.
"Thank you, Ivan," she said an hour later when the youth with the smiling eyes brought her supper. "I think I'll go to sleep after I eat. You needn't worry about taking out the food cart until tomorrow."
* * *
It had been after midnight before Sharon finally drifted off to sleep. She knew that Ivan was on duty right outside the door. She was turned on by the way that he looked at her, smiled at her, seemed to want to help her. Yet, with all the humiliation and degradation that she had been put through, her basic nature superseded her newly acquired boldness and obscene brazenness. She couldn't bring herself to tap on the door and try to have a pleasant talk with the youthful, blond, East European Communist.
"Oh ... that's nice ... ," Sharon found herself saying in a half sleep at about two in the morning. "It feels ... good, darling ... so good. Yes ... I'll turn over ... it feels good there, too...."
When her eyes finally opened, she couldn't believe that she was awake! The room was dimly illuminated by a night-light and the light that came from the open bathroom door. It was Ivan! He was leaning over her, turning her body over and around, and he was cleansing her sexual areas with a damp, warm towel. The nubby cloth aroused her as it rubbed over her clit, her inner and outer lips, all around her crotch and anus and over her buttocks where dried areas of Boris' sperm still clung to her.
"I only try make feel better ... cleaner," Ivan said breathily, and her eyes searched out his face, his body. "They do dirty things ... Ivan make you clean and sweet ... eh?"
"Yes ... you do, Ivan," Sharon said with the most sincere smile in days as she reached up to put her arms around the welcome youth's strong back. "You make me feel very good, Ivan. I like you...."
"I liking ... loving you, too," Ivan said, his body a little tense as if ashamed or embarrassed to accept her embrace. "You are most pretty American girl I ever see ... and see five or more since be here."
Sharon felt suddenly consumed by feeling, affection, sexual emotion. If anyone of them took her cherry, she wanted it to be Ivan! She let her sensitive hands roam around his clothed body. He wore no undershirt, and the trousers and shorts were thin enough to allow her a sensual feel of the configuration of his body as well as a cock that was bursting!
"Oh, Ivan ... I want you!" Sharon blurted, and her face turned red immediately, but her fingers unbuttoned the fly of his cheap trousers and searched desperately for his young penis. "I trust you, Ivan! I'd trust you with anything! You ... you do want me ... don't you?"
"Da ... oh, da!" he exclaimed when her fingers found his naked pulsing cock and squeezed around the shaft. "But ... I am a Communist, too, like ... like the others...."
"Ivan ... darling ... you're as much a prisoner here as I am ... or Lilli ... or poor Igor," Sharon panted breathlessly as their faces almost met and she looked into the wide blue eyes of the youth who was no more than a year or two older than herself. "You have to do everything they say! They treat you like a slave! You're no better off than I. Don't be afraid, darling ... do it to me."
"It ... it is forbidden," the young man said, but proved too infatuated by the sight and feel of the beautiful face and body to move away. "I hear Boris tell you be virgin. If he find out ... I do that with you ... he kill me, too. I am only Sergeant. He is Colonel!"
"The closet's full of clean sheets and bedspreads!" Sharon whispered breathily, her hands stripping his lean, firm body naked. "And ... and there's a furnace in the big room outside. I saw the glow through the little window when we came in ... you keep it going for hot water in the summertime ... don't you?"
"Da," he admitted, on his knees between her legs and proud of the bulging, throbbing, huge-headed cock that he owned, proud that it was circumcised.
"If I get blood on the sheets ... you can burn them in the furnace!" Sharon told him, amazed at her own aggressiveness and strong, loving, natural desire to be fucked by the handsome young soldier. "And I can make up the bed with fresh sheets. Please, Ivan ... I know I can trust you. And ... if they try to make Igor take my cherry ... I can pretend it's killing me! He's so big, he might even make me bleed again...."
Ivan said nothing for the moment. His panting breath blew soothingly across Sharon's perspiring face, neck and breasts when he moved over her turbulent body. She thrust her firm, fat, pink-tipped globes toward his mouth until his lips touched her left nipple. She sighed aloud, her whole body shuddering wildly with that single contact! It was like fire coursing through every nerve-end from her sensitive nipples to the pit of her moistening, red-fleshed cuntal interiors that began to swell immediately.
"Ivan could love American girl as you!" he told her with an emotionally choked voice, sucking in air through his teeth when the mushroomy head of his six-inch cock first contacted her juicy, puffed cuntlips. "Oh ... oh, Shay-rawn! You like feel my sex in your sex place?"
"Yes ... yes, I love it!" Sharon whispered, breathily and excitedly, her hand reaching down to touch and hold the mighty male organ, to fondle the taut young testicles. "You're ... so different from the others-Boris, Igor, Julian ... even Jim...."
"Jim Dutton?" Ivan asked with a little frown, joying in the feel of her rubbing his cockhead around in the juicy cuntflesh and abrazing her excited clit with deliberate force. "He not good man. He want kill you, too ... kill Colonel Boris, General, me ... kill all, your girlfriend Lorna also. You ... like Jim? Make sex love to him?"
"No ... no, I swear it, Ivan!" Sharon vowed with sudden fright that melted with her intense sexual excitement and the feel of his iron-strong cock. "He ... he tried to kiss me ... and feel me on the plane. He took out his ... thing ... but that was all. He's Lorna's boyfriend. Why ... why would he want to kill us? Why, Ivan?"
The handsome youth was silent for a moment. He put his hands beneath her oversize, gravity-defying breasts and squeezed and milked them with his talented fingers. He gritted his teeth at intervals so that he wouldn't prove himself to be the Ukranian version of a "yokel" and shoot off his load of semen that begged for release from the tender testicles that Sharon fondled, until he was about to go out of his mind!
"It ... is a secret ... Jim Dutton ... ," he panted, pushing his cockhead a little further inside the juicy, fleshy cunt until his bulbous tip was straining against the entrance to her virgin vagina. "They kill me if I tell...."
"They'll kill you if they find you doing this, Ivan!" Sharon exclaimed, forming her thumb and forefinger in an "O" shape and sliding them up and down the shaft of the cock that she had moistened from her own sex parts. "Trust me ... tell me...."
"You trust me ... first?" Ivan questioned, then joined his mouth to hers in their first kiss that was a teasingly delightful exchange of tongues and saliva and pressing, excited lips. "Now ... oh, you kiss ... but now ... you trust Ivan? You tell Ivan where is apartment in Paris ... you have with Lorna? No ... you no trust Ivan...?"
"Yes, I do! It's the second building on the right of Rue de Poissy as you turn off Boulevard St. Germaine! Number 33 ... I think. Lorna's name is on the door ... the second button. Our apartment's on the second floor. And Jim's probably with her right now...."
Sharon stopped suddenly as the look in Ivan's eyes seemed to change! Had she been fooled completely by the good-looking youth who had made her silly, romantic emotions aroused since she first saw him on the plane, disguised as an Arab? Were they going to get from her with honey what they had been unable to wring from her with torture and the most obscene degradation?
"Ivan! Jim Dutton? You were going to tell me the secret about him?" she said questioningly, almost afraid what might happen to her since she had so foolishly told him where the apartment was. "What is it about Jim? Is he an American spy ... CIA? What is it? You promised...."
Her voice choked off as Ivan's healthy, strong, young body bore down on her. He pushed her plumpishly firm and sexy young thighs apart with his knees. He let his cockhead slide forward until it was touching the unpenetrated hymen, the sex gate that had been loosened, but never opened. She wanted so desperately to forget about Lorna, Jim, the whole miserable spy business, including what might happen to both her and her father within the next few days! She wanted Ivan to do it, to ram his blood-engorged penis into her belly and tear loose the last vestiges of her physical adolescence! She wanted him, and she wanted him to desire her, as the throbbing beat of his cock just over an inch inside her told her that he did.
"Jim Dutton is work for ... for Albanian and Chinese ... ," Ivan said, then threw his arms around her yearning body hungrily! "He want that TABM secret from your father, too...."
Sharon couldn't hear Ivan's last words, and she was too overpowered to worry about his blowing of Jim Dutton's cover for the moment. She thrust her cunt upward and Ivan was helpless but to push down fiercely and pierce the wall of thin flesh that meant that she would never be a virgin again in her life!
The pain was surprisingly mild and beautifully bitter-sweet. She felt the flesh tear, but when Ivan's blood-inflated young cock filled her tight vagina with the gentle slowness of trying to pull a pair of tight leather gloves over her fingers, it became a sensual experience. The pain numbed the invasion of her virginity, and, in turn, the pain was numbed by the unbelievably beautiful explosion of her excited young passions at the hands of the only male that she had admired for so long.
"Ivan ... Ivan ... tell me you love me!" she begged him, wanting the kinkiness of Lilli's "love" statement to be washed away. "I love you, Ivan...."
The youth was too spellbound to speak at first. The blonde, millionaire American's daughter was so different from the Ukrainian farm girls that he had known. She had the delicate beauty mixed with the physical warmth and desire of the most beautiful young show girls and movie actresses of Kiev and Moscow. He remembered a nineteen-year-old ballerina in Kiev, who was also blonde and sweet and so sexy! He had tried to meet her a dozen times. But how did a twenty-two-year-old Army Corporal meet such a girl? Not in a Communist country. There, it could only be a dream.
"Love you ... Ivan love you," he panted breathlessly, beginning to stroke his fiery, raging, bloated cock in and out of the tight, virginal cunt that grabbed and squeezed mightily at his organ. "See ... beautiful! Only very small blood...."
"Oh, Ivan! Ivan! Ivan!" Sharon cried, desperately wanting to have an orgasm. "Make me ... know I'm a real ... woman!"
Ivan thrust his almost bursting cock into the liquidly lined tube of her clinging vagina. The other virgins in his life had been transitory lovers whom he would never want to take home to mother. Thus, it was almost with disbelief that he was actually taking the maidenhead of such a beautiful, sweet, yet passion-laden young American girl! When he pulled back on the outstroke, a suction broke and made a wet "pop" noise. But it was music to his ears! It was what he had always wanted-a girl to fuck and love at the same time!
"You ... real woman, Sharon!" he whispered breathlessly, then felt his whole body twitch when she put her hand down over his left buttock and fingered to his anus! "Dosdgradia! You make ... you make me...."
"Yes! Cum! Cum, Ivan!" Sharon cried out, her eyes ablaze! "Cum inside me ... give me a beautiful baby ... fuck it into me, Ivan! I love it!"
The youth was as much stimulated by Sharon's words, at her wildly wanton and yet personal attitude in sex, as he was with the physical act itself! She was perfect for him! And he readily obeyed her wish by thrusting his bulging, bursting cock deep into the creamy depths of her cunt! He played with the big titties and squeezed the temporarily stiff and elongated nipples of the huge globes of flesh between his thumbs and forefingers!
The double titillation surged through Sharon's bucking, twisting, thrusting body! She joyed heavily at the feeling between her legs, the huge and bulbous-headed cock stretching her virgin, sweating vaginal walls to their limits. He moved slightly upward! His shaft rubbed over the oily pearl of her awakened clit, and Sharon went over the brink!
"Love me! Hold me! I'm cumming, Ivan!" she cried out, the liquid splashes of their fluids beautiful sounds to her enthralled ears. "Don't stop ... fuck a baby into me!"
The young Communist let out a shrill yell of his own when he felt the semen explode from his tight balls and course through his cock and into the bouncing blonde's young belly. It spurted again ... and again ... and again!
"Oh ... oh, Ivan, I love you! Don't leave me!" Sharon pleaded, wrapping her legs around his thighs and keeping the throbbing meat of life as deeply inside her organs as possible. "I don't care what they do to me now, Ivan ... If you'll love me...."
"Ivan love," the youth said, but Sharon thought that she detected a flatness in his voice. "Ivan be good to you . ... "
They were both exhausted and Ivan rolled over on the bed, beside her. He was asleep, but Sharon clung to him desperately! Their perspiring bodies made the head-to-thigh contact so much more personal for Sharon. She was very sleepy, tired and relaxed, also. But two things kept running around in her mind, keeping her from drifting off to sleep so quickly as Ivan had.
Could it be possible that he had tricked her, made love to her and taken her precious cherry just to find out the address for his bosses? And what of Jim Dutton? If what Ivan had said was true, Jim might have extracted some very vital information from Lorna! Lorna could unknowingly cause the death of herself, Sharon, and the giving over of the TABM secret to Communist power!
Would Lorna lead Jim and his group to the villa in Ivry and intercept the plans of the East European Communists? Worse yet, if Ivan was telling the truth and really had committed an act of love, what would happen to them if Boris found out that she was no longer a virgin?
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lorna slid off the side of the bed quietly, pushed her feet into a pair of fluffy slippers, and walked to the bathroom naked. Jim was still very sound asleep on her big, comfortable bed. Another day had gone by with no word about Sharon. Brian Marshall had persuaded her to let her own whereabouts be known to the Embassy, to the airline, and even by cable to an old-maid aunt in Arizona, who was her closest living relative and might have read about the kidnapping.
"Dirty old men ... ha!" Lorna laughed gaily, thinking of how easily she had rid herself of the inspector's snooping by seducing the indomitable Sydoux. "You eat pussy beautifully ... maybe you should have tried it when I was fourteen."
* * *
The full-bodied brunette adjusted the temperature of the shower water, then stepped from her slippers and into the steaming jets. Suds! Mountains of creamy suds cleansed and refreshed her body. She made the water much cooler and watched the taut nipples of her breasts turn stiff as the 36-B globes firmed up even more.
She frowned as she came out of the shower and stood on the thick bathmat to dry herself. She had wondered so often during the last three days what might be happening to Sharon? But she hadn't worried a great deal, which made her realize how selfish she was. So long as she was enjoying life, and the particularly exciting phase of the present, she didn't want to think about Sharon.
Within the past seventy-two hours, Lorna Fontana had made the vaunted French security agency do her bidding, she had met Brian Marshall, and she had been thoroughly fucked by Jim Dutton. A smile covered her frown as she combed out her long black hair. Jim could satisfy her like no one. But Brian Marshall was so very anxious to get in her pants. And Brian was the kind of man that a girl like Lorna wanted for a husband. So she had rejected his urgent pleas no matter how smooth and teasing they were. He was to be saved for the real thing. Yet, Lorna found herself wondering how good he was in bed. Was his hard cock, that she had let him force her to squeeze one time through his clothing, really as big as she imagined, or as durable and sex-blasting as Jim's?
Lorna heard some movement in the bedroom and began to dry herself more quickly. How lucky she had been to stay away from reporters of the newspapers, TV and radio who searched for her. She had rented the little apartment from a French stew who had become the mistress of a rich American industrialist. Everything except the names on the doorbells and mailboxes were still registered to the name "Annette Cheblanc."
"I wish all women looked as good as you when they crawl out of a bathtub with no makeup on," Jim greeted her naked and yawning. "Damn! We must have slept eight or nine hours! And you still won't tell me where Sharon is. You think it's a game those bastards are playing? They're out for blood! You know they want her old man's TABM design ... and they'll kill her to get it, if they have to!"
"I know ... I know, Jim!" Lorna responded, admiring his naked body and the big cock. "What you don't understand is that I'm doing the right thing. If the CIA, the Police ... anyone shows up there, the first thing they'll do is kill Sharon! I realize I feel helpless, Jim ... and I really am helpless."
"How's that?" he asked, the shower door partly open as he talked loudly and gave himself a steamy sudsy bath. "You know when you get on that flight in a couple of days, the honeymoon's over! The police and reporters will all be after you ... hounding you!"
"I don't want to think about it!" Lorna cried out, cupping her breasts and turning toward him. "You've done it again, you know, Jim! You came in here naked and with your cock at half-mast! I've got to have you again!"
"You're a nympho!"
"And you love it!" Lorna snapped back, jiggling her titties in his face when he came out of the shower. "I only wish I knew where Sharon is. I've been telling all of you the truth-its some place out in Ivry, but I'd never recognize it. You don't believe me ... do you?"
"You're the only nympho I know that I would believe," Jim said with a conceited smirk, toweling his body and opening the door to the bedroom to clear out some of the steam and condensation. "Well ... there's that married cunt in Frankfurt. She couldn't afford to lie to me ... not with what I know about her...."
"You prick! You contemptible, self-centered bragging bastard!" Lorna screamed, losing her temper seriously and gouging her knee into his naked groin while the towel was over his face. "I can take care of a shitty son-of-a-bitch like you ... just like I did the guy who tried to rape me when he was the only passenger on first class last year! Remember that? You had to come back and give him first aid!"
Jim blinked his eyes uncertainly and felt softly around to the place where his head had hit the side of the lavatory, while his rear had thudded down on the thick bathmat. He shook his head, then looked at his fingers. No blood. Probably not a concussion, he figured. But his other hand clutched at his balls and he rocked back and forth in agony from the excruciating pain.
"Why don't you go ahead and cry, little boy?" Lorna asked with a snarl, still mercilessly bitter. "Men are so goddamn vulnerable. Everyone of you has an Achille's heel ... two of them! Except that they're right between your legs! I could kick you there again and again ... right now! You're helpless! Look at that symbol of your manliness! Ha-ha! Nothing but a long, limp flab of skin hanging between your legs! It looks ridiculous! I may be a nympho, Jim ... but if I am, it's for damn sure you couldn't do me any good now ... Limpy!"
Jim still clutched at his balls and rolled back and forth. But most of the pain was bearable. He only wanted her to think that he was still helpless, vulnerable, an impotent male. While she still cursed him and stepped closer, Jim threw out his right leg abruptly and banged at the shins of her calves! Lorna screamed and came tumbling down into his arms. He grabbed her instantly and twisted her around on the slippery towel, bringing her right arm up behind her back until she was crying for mercy.
"All right, Miss Women's Lib Militant!" he yelled into her ear until it ached. "I knew I'd get you to blow it sometime! You are a nympho ... but you really hate all men! You've got a hang-up on your father! Maybe you used to fuck with him or eat his cock when you were a kid! Or, maybe it's just something in your mind! Maybe you just wanted him to fuck you so badly ... that you hate all men because he never did screw you ... wouldn't do it even when you walked around him naked and tried to get him hot! Look, baby ... I wasn't born yesterday! I took a little psych in school. I knew your problem the second time I fucked you ... which was the same night you gave me blow-job number thirty-they were all in the plane, remember-in the cockpit or down in the galley! You're...."
"What ... whatever it is, Jim, don't say anymore!" she wailed at him helplessly as her arm was still twisted tightly behind her shoulder. "Just ... let me live with my hang-ups! Don't try to psych me out! I went to a shrink for three months after my father was shot down...."
"So! You had been screwing him!" Jim broke in, digging deeper and twisting the "knife" in her mind. "How long had it been going on ... huh? How old were you when he first did it? Was it good? Tell me! Tell me, or I'll break your goddamn arm off!"
Lorna let out a sudden shriek of pain when he pushed her twisted arm up to the very limit. Jim eased up slightly. He was breathless, panting at her, so weirdly excited at the idea of incest, wanting to hear each detail of a juicy father-daughter sex affair. Perhaps, Lorna thought to herself, he has a hang-up of his own in that respect, wanted, his mother, or had sex with his mother. Yet, it seemed more likely to Lorna, who had also been in a psych course at college, that Jim's excessive "cunt chasing" and bragging about it, went with a "Madonna complex." In his own highly prejudiced mind, there were only two types of females-those to have sex with, and those to respect, just as he had worshipped and respected his mother. He was in a constant chase to prove that all other women were whores! But with Lorna, he was a little confused. Even knowing about most of her past, he liked her, too. Then he would get mad at himself for liking her. And if he could make her confess to a love affair with her own father, that would make everything fit in place for him again. Lorna would be just as cheap and evil as all the other "cunts" that he had sex with.
"Tell me!" Jim demanded, twisting her arm again.
"I ... I can't ... ," she said, crying heavily to see if she could buy time. "I loved my father, Jim ... it's true I adored him, and ... and ... oh, Jim, I can't talk about it now. It tears me up inside! No matter what you say ... all of you say-my father's dead!"
"You told me you heard a message from him broadcast from Hanoi when you were at the villa!" Jim reminded her, yanking the arm up almost an inch and making her scream even louder. "Don't lie to me, Lorna! Tell me how the handsome man put his hands up your teenage legs and under your panties! Was there just a little fuzz around that pretty cunt then? Could he get a whole tit in his mouth and suck it? Did he show his big, hard prick ... and get you to kiss it ... put it in your sweet little mouth ... suck it?"
"Not ... now, Jim," she pleaded tearfully, wanting to believe that it had really been his voice that she had heard, yet trying to figure out the one thing that seemed out of place. "It ... it was his voice, Jim. But I still can't ... oh, just don't make me talk about it now! When we're in bed naked ... drinking ... very, very horny and hot so that cock of yours is about to burst and ... I'm having orgasms by the second ... I'll tell you...."
Lorna felt the "Limpy" penis that she was sitting on lose its nickname! It seemed to sprout like a fast, time-exposure film showing a tree growing from seed to ten feet in a matter of seconds. She had certainly turned him on with her teasing promise. But, she wondered, would he buy it?
"It's hot and horny now, baby!" Jim panted, answering her question as he let go of her arm and felt around her body until he was cupping both of her resilient breasts, titillating the nipples with his wet thumbs and slowly moving his gorged cock up and down the valley of her firm orbs, his balls grinding into her anus! "Now's the time, Lorna. Tell me in the kind of language I love to hear! Tell me all...."
Lorna tried to twist away from him, but Jim put an armlock on her again and guided her toward the bed in the next room. He kept his body tightly against her back, and the feel of his pulsating cock along her spine, the testicles bouncing with her upper buttocks, began to make her hot again. Jim turned out the bathroom light and there was only the soft glow of illumination from the dim light tubes that surrounded the mirror of her dresser. It was dark outside, and Lorna guessed that it must be 9:30 or ten in the evening. She had lost count of time the past few days.
"Did your father make the first move ... or did you tease his cock?" Jim asked breathily when they stopped at the side of the bed and he pushed his penis down into the valley of her ass. "Did you like to peep at him naked ... see his big cock?"
"Please, Jim...."
"No, baby, the time is now!" Jim cut her off, grazing his right hand over her smooth belly and through the thick patch of her pubes until he felt the juicy, dripping, sleek lips of her bulging cunt! "Did you eat him ... or fuck him first? Talk, baby!"
"Oh-ow!" Lorna screamed when her arm felt as if it would really break, her mind trying to decide whether to tell the absolute truth and torture herself by recalling it all again, or to lie heavily and still make it a horny tale for his sex-drenched mind. "All right ... I'll tell you, Jim...."
The hefty co-pilot released his grip on her arm and pushed her down on the bed. His eyes bore into hers. His cock was raging and swelling like a "crawling plant" that would reach out and grab her if she didn't go ahead and talk! Lorna used her elbows to get all the way up on the bed. Jim sat beside her and rubbed the huge, hard, blood-bloated prick against her hip and under her plumpish ass and fulsome upper thighs. He put two fingers in her mouth and she soaked them with saliva before he removed them and began to liquidly tease her left nipple until her breathing picked up.
"I was only about twelve when it first started," Lorna said softly, warmly, breathily, smoothing her hands over Jim's chest and pinching one of his little hairy nipples. "My titties were no bigger than lemons ... and just a little dark fuzz around my pussy. My father came into my room unexpectedly one afternoon when I was lying on my bed naked and fingering myself off ... oh, I'd started that about a year before when a seventeen-year-old babysitter taught me how. She was wild ... used to play with herself, too ... and we'd watch each other ... and she told me about men ... and cocks ... and fucking...."
"Oh ... oh, baby, keep going!" Jim moaned, rolling over on top of her and letting his iron-hard cock slide into Lorna's juicy, pulsing pussy. "More ... more...."
"I think he must have been watching me ... masturbate myself," Lorna picked up the story and fed one of her fiery-red, stiff nipples to Jim's mouth as she moved her ass sensually and slowly to "suck" the cock deep inside herself. "There was a big bulge in his pants ... and he was looking all over my naked body...."
"Goddammit! Who the fuck invented telephones, anyway! I'll kill him!" Jim blew up when the bedside phone began to ring.
"Don't worry ... just don't worry," Lorna said softly, pressing her pelvis to him until she could feel his moist balls gently squeeze against her underass. "I won't answer it. I'm in the mood now to...."
"You'll have to, dammit!" Jim said discouragingly, but left his hard penis throbbing inside her sweating vagina. "It could be the airline calling us in a day early. I left your number at my hotel in case I was needed."
Lorna answered the phone frustratingly. And she was even more upset when a foreign-accented woman asked to speak to Jim. She handed the phone to him. She strained her ears to listen. But all she could hear was Jim's side of the conversation.
"Yes, put him on ... Hello, sir! ... What? ... But I can't ... not just now ... Oh, that important? ... Yes, sir. I'll do the best I can. Check back with you."
"What's the matter?" Lorna puzzled when she hung up the phone for him and saw Jim move off the bed and grab at his clothes.
"Get dressed ... quickly," he told her seriously, a disappointed frown on his face. "You ... you know that I've tried to find out about your father through Intelligence ... that I have connections there. Well, that was an order for me to drive you out to Ivry and cover every street there until we find that villa where Sharon is! Hurry up! I can't tell you all ... and whatever I do tell you must be confidential...."
"I thought Lorna said with a pause as she struggled into a clinging, knit jumpsuit outfit with two zippers, both at the top that came down over the center of each breast to below her knees. "I thought Brian was working on this. He's Air Force, CIA, or something like that. The man from the Embassy, remember?"
"Brian?" Jim said, thinking hard, then laughing lightly as he helped Lorna zip up the exciting outfit and put on a pair of high heels. "Who ... who do you think that was on the phone? It was Brian. His secretary had tried to get me at the hotel, then was referred to this number...."
"But I couldn't find the place if I tried all night," Lorna insisted, locking the two zippers in place so that both mounds were exposed teasingly, adjusting her breasts in the light, built-in bra. "I've told both of you that."
"But you haven't really tried yet," Jim reminded her, guiding her out the door quickly and then down the stairway. "You said this taxi driver tried to get fresh or something when he pulled in a cab station behind the Austerlitz railroad station. You must have been coming down the wharf road that goes all the way out through Ivry! I don't see why we hadn't thought of that before!"
Lorna welcomed a drink right from the bottle of Cognac that Jim had left on the seat of his rented Citroen. She had tried to forget that awful night with the cab-drivers and freight-yard workers, had lied about what really happened. And, she thought, as Jim zoomed on past the Gare de Austerlitz on the quai road beside the river, maybe that was the reason she had refused to think of anything before the escape that she had made.
"Here come the city limits," Jim told her, frowning to see her gulping from the Cognac bottle again, not realizing that the numbing effect of the liquor helped her to remember. "We're in Ivry now. Does that first road to the right look familiar?"
"No ... no, I'm sure it's not that one," she replied tensely, her eyes searching through the night. "I remember passing that road now ... and going into Paris proper. But ... we turned onto the quai road just a little bit before ... There! Turn right ... Victor Hugo Street! Slow down now ... we turn left at a street named after another famous French writer ... but I can't remember his name...."
"Moliere?" Jim asked, slowing up to read the next street sign. "He was a playwright ... seventeenth century, I think."
"Yes! That's it ... turn left!" Lorna cried out, and then adding, "It's not the street the villa's on, but we go out here almost a mile ... and it's on a little side road...."
"Write it down," Jim directed her as he shifted the big car backward and forward to turn it around. "Write down the number at the gate ... and the street. There's pencil and paper in the glove compartment there ... and draw a small diagram of how we came out here."
"Aren't we staying here?" Lorna asked, her heart racing with excitement. "Sharon's in there! They may be killing her ... raping her...."
"Now, be sensible and write it down for us," Jim told her, rubbing his hand over her tightly clad thighs and between them. "You can't expect us to go storming in there by ourselves and rescuing her, can you? I have to get some reinforcements ... some rope, ladder and hooks."
It all made sense, of course, Lorna realized as she put the piece of paper with the address into her small purse and stuffed it back in the side-pocket of the jumpsuit. She recalled all too vividly the nightmare that she had gone through trying to get over the front gate, the barking, yapping dogs, the steel spikes. The Intelligence people would be able to get over the wall with their equipment, knock out the dogs with tranquilizer pistols or something.
"Mmmm ... darling, your hand feels good, but don't make me leak and have a wet crotch for everybody to see," she said softly, more relaxed and comfortable, feeling secure with Jim by her side.
"I thought you wore a tampon or something when you put on skin-tight outfits like that," he responded. "My God, girl! That thing fits so tightly I can feel the outline of your cuntal lips!"
"Yes ... and it's getting juicy ... don't Jim," Lorna insisted, trying to force his strong hand away.
"Eat me then!" he said, talking as if he owned her. "Nothing like driving along the quai at this time of night and being eaten by a beautiful brunette."
"I'll still get horny and leak ... damn you," she told him with resignation.
As the car sped on toward Paris' Left Bank, Lorna found it quite natural for her to lean over and unzip the fly, fish for the bulging cock, then reach under to bring out the balls. Her head dodged the steering wheel as she began to warm to her mission. She fondled the long shaft, teased her fingers along the underside until it began to pulse more strongly. She hefted the balls that she knew so well, then moved her face closer and lapped at the moist slit in the head with her tongue.
"Oh, baby ... Lorna ... suck it! I'm so damned hot, I'm almost ready...."
For just a moment, she was disappointed because Jim could usually last a long time. But then she felt the moisture between her legs, knew that she was making a big wet spot in the crotch of her purple jumpsuit. She sighed and experienced a very long, comfortable orgasm before gulping the cock up into her mouth and bobbing her head up and down the way that she knew Jim liked it in a car. He put his left hand at the back of her head and set the tempo.
Lorna thrilled at the feel of it in her deep throat, the gorged mushroom head trying to go for her stomach! As her tongue laved around the sides of it, the blood-bloated veins could be singled out. When Jim exploded, she closed her eyes and swallowed, swallowed, swallowed. She didn't stop sucking until every drop had beeningested and the very limp cock fell out of her mouth.
"Damn! You taste good, darling!" she said to him with a tender sigh as she put his genitals back down in his shorts and zipped up the fly of his trousers. "I could eat you all night ... could you give me that much each time?"
"Remember London?" he asked, glancing at her with a smile. "We didn't leave the suite at the hotel for two whole days. Was it sixteen or seventeen times you got me off?"
"There's Brian's car now!" Lorna shouted as they approached her apartment building. "He must be waiting for us with the equipment and...."
"That son-of-a-bitch!" Jim cursed mindlessly, screeching the car to a stop and then backing so he could turn around in the narrow street. "I lost him when he tried to follow us out there ... so he came back here to wait. What a stupid...."
"Lorna! Lorna! Stop him!" Brian's voice yelled desperately as he came running toward them with a pistol in his hand and followed by two other men with drawn guns. "He'll kill you, Lorna ... stop him!"
Lorna's head went into a dizzy spin! She had to make a decision within a split second. But when she saw Jim's hand reach in his coat and pull out a small, snub-nosed pistol, she deflected it with her left arm and grabbed the steering wheel with her right hand! They smashed into a parked car and, for a moment, everything was still.
"Watch him!" Brian's voice cried out. "He's got a gun!"
Five loud and blasting pistol shots rang out. Lorna covered her ears and screamed. She saw Jim slump over the steering wheel, blood pumping out of holes in his trousers and shirt! Brian's suit was torn at the left shoulder, but she heard him tell the other two men in French, "It's nothing ... hardly grazed me. You men get the ambulance here. Not that it'll do any good. Jim Dut-ton's dead!"
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, Lorna was filled in on the details, but she still felt in a state of shock. She took a long drink from her snifter of Cognac and began to undress and put on one of her more modestly short dresses, one that she could wear regular stockings and a garterbelt with.
From habit, she narcissistically admired her nyloned nakedness in the mirror after she was half-dressed and had cleaned up from her most recent experience with a man now dead! Brian had wanted her to come with him to a "safe house" while the French and American agents decided on a course of action, but she managed to get away by telling him that there was a rip in the back of her jumpsuit and that she had to go change clothes. In the darkness outside, Brian couldn't see the wetness of her crotch.
He had told her to stay right there in her apartment until he returned or called. He had filled her in on Jim's role as a spy for the Albanians, and probably some sort of Albanian-Chinese group. He had made her discover the address of the villa in Ivry for his own bosses. It hadn't been Brian with whom Jim had talked on the phone. Lorna had then given Brian the slip of paper with the Ivry address. She expected that he and the French agents would be by to pick her up and take her along for the raid, the raid that she prayed would save Sharon's life!
Lorna was on her third Cognac and fourth cigarette when the knock sounded at her door. She grabbed her purse, took one last look at herself in the mirror, then walked over to open it.
The last thing that she remembered was looking straight into the faces of Boris and Igor! She had frozen in place at the shock! Boris had grabbed her and put a white rag up against her face. It blocked off her breathing, except for the stupefying and pungently sweet smell of highly concentrated chloroform.
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Ivan ... Ivan, is that you?" Sharon's voice asked pitifully, weakly, as she felt the scented washrag and towel rubbing between her legs, over her big breasts, and back over her most sensitive and still oily clitoris again. "Ivan ... I love you...."
"I don't know what you're talking about, Sharon," Lorna told her girlfriend softly as she looked around the posh underground bedroom of the villa. "They knocked me out with chloroform and brought me here. They had already knocked you out with something when I came to, being fucked by Boris and ... Igor had his cock in you."
"Igor! Oh, I must be torn to pieces!" Sharon shrieked, hugging nakedly to Lorna, finding comfort in the feel of their breasts against each other's. "But ... how did you get back here?"
"You're all right, darling," Lorna told her, swabbing at the open cunt that still excited her. "The knockout drugs relaxed you. You bled a little bit ... but it's all right now."
"I did? I did bleed? Was ... Boris convinced I was a virgin?" she asked the older girl, grasping her thighs. "Did he believe it?"
"Yes, of course," Lorna told her, then smiled seductively. "Or ... did you bleed just because Igor's cock was so big and deformed?"
"I'll tell you ... later," Sharon said, blushing uncontrollably and trembling a little. "What are they going to do with us now? And ... you didn't tell me ... how you got back here...."
Lorna explained everything to Sharon, but whispered it in her ear because of the microphones obviously planted in the room. And Sharon filled in Lorna, but told her that she wasn't sure that Ivan could be trusted, that he might have given the apartment address to Boris and Igor. How else would they have known where to find Lorna?
"Oh, what a fool I was! Ivan acted so good and nice and ... loving," Sharon broke up aloud, and Lorna tried to keep her quiet, tapping her fingers on the night table because she had read somewhere that such noise could distort a bugged conversation. "I trusted Ivan so much! He was so gentle and sweet to me ... the bastard. Maybe I should be a Lesbian and fall in love with you. Your body feels nice ... and I'm ... horny...."
Lorna bit her lip, trying to think, rationalize, make some sense out of everything. She let Sharon lean over to caress and suck her breast, reacting between her thighs with that leaky feeling. If a male's love and worship for his mother could be so strong that it was one of the causes of his realized or unrealized homosexuality, couldn't it work the other way, too?
She thought of her father's voice on the radio, of how he looked the last time that she had seen him, been with him. Sharon's tongue licked back and forth over her belly, gradually approaching the thick hairs of her slightly puffed mons. Lorna knew that other females than Sharon had attracted her sexually, too. She had always blithely passed it off as "being a tiny bit bi" and going along with the wishes of a man that she liked, and Jim Dutton hadn't been the first, she recalled.
"I'm going to do it this time, Lorna ... because I really want to!" Sharon exclaimed, then pushed her face between Lorna's yielding thighs.
Lorna looked down at the pretty blonde mop of hair grazing over her black pubic hairs and belly. Sharon's no-longer-innocent tongue sluiced up one juicy cuntlip and down the other. Both of them began to breathe more heavily, move their bodies in a slow and subtle dance of desire. The excitement had psyched Lorna sexually, too. Like Jim had told her, she couldn't get enough. Maybe she was a nympho, she thought. Then she lay back with resignation and helped guide Sharon's young thighs and pussy over her head.
"Your lips open by themselves now," Lorna remarked, gazing up between the pink labia of the relatively small slit, then licking the inner thighs up to the spot where a little silken fuzz began to grow. "Let's enjoy it ... while we can."
Suddenly, the room was flooded with light! Boris and Julian wheeled in the cart with the videotape machine! Julian, a smirk of contempt for the two girls, plugged it in the wall socket.
Boris immediately grabbed the camera and directed it toward the bed.
"Don't stop!" he shouted when Lorna and Sharon started to break from their embrace. "Keep it up like you are madly in Lesbian love or ... I kill you!"
"Cunts ... cheap cunts!" Julian said, unzipping his slacks and producing his long, clean penis. "I'm going to shoot off all over you bitches while you sixty-nine! Go! Go! This is better than getting your tits cut off with a straight razor ... isn't it?"
Both girls went back to their lovemaking avidly. Sharon laved her salivating tongue continuously up and down Lorna's hairy, puffed, outer cuntlips. And then she dipped between them to suck and feel the juicy, slippery flesh inside the older girl's vulva that had begun to throb with pleasurable excitement.
Lorna pulled apart the cheeks of Sharon's plumpish young ass and admired their form and smooth resilient feel. She pushed her pelvis up to the girl's mouth, felt the soft young tongue go across her clit with deliberate stiffness, and suddenly had an orgasm. Boris came up by the side of the bed to film a close-up of what Lorna was doing. He brought out his own excited prick and its engorged, purplish head seemed to jump toward Lorna's face.
"Go ... lick the asshole of the young lady!" Boris commanded as he almost dropped the camera. "Julian! I have to make the camera with both hands. You ... you play with it hard ... ah...."
Lorna had no difficulty in following Boris' instructions. She eagerly sucked at Sharon's blossoming cunt, noisily, slurpingly, filling her mouth with as much of the juice as possible. She licked across the small piece of perineal flesh and then unleashed the natural liquids on the roseate crater of Sharon's tender young asshole. When the girl cried out in delight at the sensation, Lorna became more excited, too.
Boris put his knee on the bed and focused the camera so that the entire picture would show just the side of Lorna's face, part of Sharon's buttocks, and the long, hot tongue slipping in and out of the tight, pink, puckered anus. As Lorna withdrew her tongue slightly, the crater expanded outward with it. When the tongue invaded, it appeared as if Sharon was using her stricture muscle to "suck" it in as far as it could possibly go!
"Now! Now, we make tape of great assfuck!" Boris cried out with impassioned amusement, his raging cock hitting Lorna's ear sensually as her face almost disappeared between the full orbs of Sharon's rounded, bouncing buttocks. "Igor! Come here, you fool! You are going to break open a young ass!"
Sharon and Lorna tensed noticeably, but said nothing. They continued their act of semi-enforced lust with each other. Lorna withdrew her tongue from the blonde's anus and tried to squeeze her index and middle finger into the same space. She pressed and pushed, and only after great effort, and a grunt from Sharon, did the fingers pass the stricture muscle and enter the rectum.
"You'll tear her to pieces!" Lorna cried out when the hulking monster walked in the room naked, his huge, curved, deformed penis waving in front of him. "I ... I could hardly get my two fingers in there!"
When Lorna tried to drag Sharon off the other side of the bed, Ivan appeared in the doorway! Somehow, the boyish appearance no longer made his face a pleasure to look at. He came up beside the bed and smacked Sharon hard across her buttocks, then ordered the girls not to try to get off the bed. There was no semblance of the love and tenderness in him that Sharon had seen, or thought that she had known.
"You two girls stay there like sixty-nine!" Boris told them, his cock bulging and raging as Julian stroked it for him. "Igor! Up on the bed ... on your knee behind ... knee by both side Lorna face. Ah! Miss Lorna Fontana, you have make the asshole very juiced. You pull down Igor's prick and help!"
"No ... I can't do it!" Lorna objected, then screamed painfully when she felt Ivan reach between their bodies and gouge at her left nipple with sharp fingernails.
Lorna was crying as she saw poor Sharon move her lower body upward and let Julian put a pillow between the big breasts and her own belly. It projected the young girl's beautiful, smooth, rounded and quivering, creamy-white orbs and made her anus more in line with Boris' monstrous cock.
When she opened her eyes, Lorna was staring up at Igor's crotch. Occasionally, one of his dangling balls would graze across her nose. She grasped his thick, curved cock and brought the obscenely formed mushroom head to her lips. She sucked it into her mouth and felt the throbbing of blood that kept pumping it full and keeping it hard! She coated it as heavily as possible with her saliva, and secretly wished that she could suck it off!
"Stop that, damn you!" Julian yelled at her when Lorna began the rhythm of cocksucking aimed at forcing Igor to unload in her hungry, sexy mouth. "It wouldn't do any good if you did eat him off. Have you ever seen him really soft? Of course, not. He has priapism ... a physical problem. He stays hard about ninety-nine percent of the time, and the only thing that gives him temporary relief is to fuck with it ... or masturbate...."
Lorna pulled the deformed penis from her mouth and pressed the head against the tender, puckering, pink asshole that quivered in fearful anticipation. "Masturbate!" Julian had said. And the word seemed to be trying to tell her something! What could it be? Lorna had no time to think, although she saw that Julian was masturbating both Boris and himself as they gleefully, passionately watched. When she turned her head, she saw that Ivan was naked, his young penis throbbing up at an angle, straight and hard. He looked at Lorna with a smirk, then began to sensually rub Sharon's quivering asscheeks with one hand and massage Lorna's open armpit with his other hand.
Shivers ran up and down her body. She had been fucked more than once in the armpit by a raunchy European, and realized that the armpit was a strong source of sexual attraction for many Italians, Germans, Slavs, French....She kept trying to push the head of Igor's sex machine into the juicy, puckering ass, but she was fascinated by Ivan despite his smug and dominating expression as he continued to rub the two girls at buttock and armpit.
One thing was certain, Lorna thought, Ivan didn't need somebody playing with him to keep him hard as a granite rock! She moved her arm over and touched his well-built genitals, feeling first under his balls so that he could still have access to her sensitive underarm area. He put his knee on the bed and moved closer, his stoic "good-soldier" facial expression not changing at all. Yet, the pulsations of the young, full cock let Lorna know that he enjoyed the feel of her hand very much.
"Fuck her ass! Fuck it, you idiot!" Julian screamed shrilly at Igor, removing his left hand from his penis long enough to slap the monster cruelly across his open eyes. "I'll get the whip to you again tonight, Igor! Boris and I will both beat you for thirty minutes!"
"Umh-ugh! Da! Igor try ... ugh ... try!" he grunted.
"No! I ... I can't stand it! I'll do anything else for you ... but he'll tear me ... ooohhh ... apart!" Sharon cried out, begging for mercy, but the tears that dripped down between Lorna's full thighs had come from seeing the change in Ivan, thinking that she had been so cruelly fooled by a "nice" young man.
"She's bleeding! She's bleeding!" Lorna shrieked, having deliberately bitten her own lip and smeared some of the blood around the lower part of Sharon's anus when she pretended to lick at the connection above her. "What would your superior say if he finds out you've torn her up?"
"Stop! Stop, Igor!" Boris ordered, clearly disturbed as he pushed back the monster and inspected his penis. "Yes! You've got blood on cock. Blood is bleeding from the girl asshole! Get away, you idiot beast!"
Obediently, but disappointedly, the hulking Igor moved off the bed. Lorna sucked in at her lower lip to keep any of the blood from coming out of her mouth. She swallowed and was glad to discover only a very slight salty taste.
"Look! Look at that boy, Ivan! He's a real lover!" Julian exclaimed when he saw Ivan's hard cock standing alone while his hands still busied themselves with the two girls. "If our little Sharon needs breaking in, Boris, have Ivan fuck her butt first!"
"Sometime ... you American be brilliant man," Boris responded with a leering grin, his eyes fascinated by the way Lorna was fondling the young soldier's balls and cock. "Fuck the ass, Ivan! And, Igor! You go to other end bed. Miss Dunlap move her head by a little. You fuck Lorna Fontana at same time Ivan fuck Miss Dunlap ass! Great to put on tape for General! He will like that."
"Da ... is pleasure, sir Colonel!" Ivan responded as Boris and Julian took off their clothes, promising to join in later. "It may be tight ... it may. I don't caring. I fuck ass ... good!"
Lorna was more sexually excited than afraid. For the moment, at least. She welcomed the sight and the feel of Ivan's young crotch over her face. She readily grasped the cock again and fed the pulsing head into the puckering, juicy, inflamed depths of Sharon's young ass. He pushed forward, but seemed to be deliberately holding back, not using full force, but pretending to.
Lorna's mind began to work overtime, and neither Boris nor Julian seemed to care. Julian was fiercely gaining a synchronous rhythm as he masturbated both his cock and the blood-engorged prick of Boris. He was enjoying it! Boris was enjoying it! When their eyes observed Ivan trying to sodomize the screaming Sharon, and Igor clumsily forcing the end of his monster into Lorna's juicy, fleshy, pulsating pussy, what sight was it they enjoyed above all?
When the huge penis began to force its way into Lorna's experienced pussy and move back and forth, dilating her vagina, she suddenly remembered how Jim had tried to psych her out at her apartment, and how she had thrown it right back at him. Jim, she theorized, was really a latent homosexual. As for Boris and Julian, they were capable fuckers, but they never became excited unless they were looking at someone else's penis, looking at their own, or playing with each others'!
"Ha-ha ... oh-ha-ha! Boris ... you're a fag!" Lorna managed to say after a healthy laugh. "The Big Man Spy is a fag! Do you ever get horny unless there's a man using his cock? Don't you like it when Julian plays with you? He likes it! He loves to handfuck that cock."
"What is fag ... huh?" Boris demanded, clearly upset, putting down his camera and yanking Julian's hand away from his throbbing genitals. "What is that crazy thing you say?"
"She's out of her mind, Boris," Julian said, trying to sound real as he nursed his sore arm. "Come on ... let's go with this great scene!"
"You're a homosexual, Boris!" Lorna taunted him derisively, although she knew several homosexuals who didn't mind admitting their preferences and she enjoyed their company. "You really want to suck Julian's prick! Julian wants to suck your prick! You hate all women with such a strong passion that the only real sex you could enjoy is with another man! Admit it, Boris! Look at Julian's prick! You're a dumb shit to be a 'superspy'! You're a homosexual."
Lorna hated to put it that way, but the only homosexuals that she couldn't stand were those who refused to admit it. Boris was one of that kind, and she watched him squirm once he started to realize the truth about himself.
"You be fag?" Boris asked Julian defiantly, looking from one person to the other cautiously.
"I just like to help you out ... feel your cock ... so you can screw."
"You lie ... queer!" Boris raged, his mind bursting!
"Igor! Igor!" Ivan called out to the big man opposite him. "That American woman right! They treat you bad, Igor! Beat you! When tell me to beat you ... I only to pretend! Igor! I go to other side ... defect! You go with! Please, Igor!"
As if reality had suddenly opened up his retarded mind, Igor moved off the bed toward Boris and Julian. The two looked at him terrified. His hands, gnarled but with muscles of steel, grabbed them by their necks and banged their heads together until they fell senseless to the floor.
At the same time, the door was forced open by Brian Marshall and a half dozen French security and police officers.
* * *
"No, it wasn't Ivan who told them Lorna's address," Brian was explaining the next day as they sipped drinks in Lorna's and Sharon's apartment after a long night of sleep and a hearty breakfast. "What these two young lovebirds didn't realize, because they were so ... anxious to know love ... was that Boris was listening to every word and sound, but when he had the address, he probably quit listening. He may not have known that ... that the ... er...."
"That Ivan got my cherry?" Sharon blurted out, laughing gaily as she hugged the young defector and kissed his blushing cheek. "Tell it like it is, Brian. Don't be heavy and try to make it a bad scene!"-
"Yes ... that's what I meant," the diplomatic-type agreed, trying to force a smile, then changing the subject as he looked at Lorna and sat down on the arm of the couch beside her. "But ... I'm afraid I have to make one confession."
"My father?" Lorna asked with immediate spontaneity, then took a long sip from her snifter of Cognac. "Yes ... I loved him much more than the average girl. I never knew my mother. Jim tried to make it dirty and...."
"No, Lorna," Brian interrupted, putting his arm around her shoulder. "I mean his voice that you heard on their tape from Radio Hanoi."
"It was his voice! I know it was!"
"Yes ... it was," Brian readily admitted, squeezing her right shoulder with his right hand. "It was recorded about two months after he was shot down. The Communists had tried to mail it to you five years ago ... when he was still alive. It was intercepted, and they knew it had been intercepted. They simply used it to try to make you think he was alive today, and that he would stay alive so long as you obeyed them."
"The discrepancy!" Lorna shouted, almost dropping her brandy snifter on the carpet. "Yes! Dad said that they were treating him well ... and that he could walk without a cane since they had fixed his broken leg! That had to be five years ago or more!"
"Have you found out about my father yet?" Sharon asked.
"Yes, everything's quite all right," the tall, handsome American explained, refilling their glasses. "The General has been arrested. Your father never saw any of the tapes, and he knows that you're safe now. And Igor will stay here with the French ... a matter of jurisdiction, but they'll protect him. Julian they can have, too."
"Me ... I must stay here, too?" Ivan asked, almost bristling with anger.
"No, no, Ivan!" Brian exclaimed, calming him with a friendly smile. "You must understand diplomacy. I negotiated with the French. Actually, they did have jurisdiction over you, too. But ... if you are married to an American citizen tomorrow...."
"You two can have the bedroom tonight," Lorna said, motioning them toward the door. "Brian and I are going to have another drink and talk."
"Well ... I should be getting back to the Embassy," Brian said, looking at his watch as Sharon and Ivan disappeared hand-in-hand into the bedroom and bolted the door. "It's almost midnight again, but I do have some reports to get out and...."
"Mr. Marshall!" Lorna addressed him after walking across the floor in her robe that gaped open to reveal her total nakedness underneath. "I'm locking the door to the hall! Tell me, have you ever been raped before?"
"Uh ... no, of course not!" he replied hesitantly, then let go of his diplomatic stuffiness all at once. "But ... perhaps I rape ... easily...."
