As Amy Wilkerson struggled, trying desperately to keep the man's hands from going under her skirt, she began to whimper. She wasn't prepared for his sudden show of aggressiveness and his apparent inability to take "no" for an answer. All evening he'd seemed so nice, so thoughtful, so well-mannered, but as soon as she let him kiss her, he thought he had the green light to go all the way with her, to take her then and there in the front seat of his late model sedan. She could tell he was more than ready to do it, too. In the eerie greenish light of the instrument panel, she could see a massive bulge in the front of his slacks. If she'd been observing his reaction to her at a distance of fifteen feet or so, that heavy pulsing lump in his crotch probably would have amused her, even flattered her, but trapped in the close confines of the car, with him trying his best to force her down on her back on the seat, it's hulking, threatening presence terrified her.
"Stop! Please, stop!" she bawled, her voice shrill, grating, ugly with panic. It was the exact same cry she'd used so many times to stop the advances of her former husband, Burt. It didn't fail her now, either.
"Hell!" Chuck said, sitting up. "What's with you anyway? One minute you're hot, the next you're cold. I thought you liked me?"
"I thought so, too," she said, fighting back the tears as she straightened her dress.
"Look, honey, we're both adults," he said, putting his hand on her knee. "We can do whatever we feel like doing. We don't have to answer to anybody."
She pushed his hand away. "I don't feel like it," she said. "I hardly know you."
"Can't we get to know each other afterwards?" he said. The joke was weak and he knew it.
"I don't know what kind of girls you usually pick up at work, but you've picked the wrong one this time," she said, glaring at him. "I'm not going to let you go any further with me. I don't care if you fire me because of it. The job isn't that important."
Chuck shook his head and wiped his face with his hand. "I can't fire you, Amy," he said. "I'm just a training supervisor. And I wouldn't fire you even if I could. I'm not that kind of person. I'm sorry if I came on too strong, I just thought...."
Amy knew what he just thought, that as she was a recent divorcee, she'd be an easy mark, a fast weeknight lay. She wasn't easy and never had been easy. In a perverse way, she prided herself on that, despite the fact that, if there'd been a single reason for the break up of her marriage to Burt, it was sex. She didn't especially care for it and couldn't understand why Burt needed to have it all the time. When she tried to make her feelings known to him, poor insensitive Burt totally misunderstood, thinking that she wanted more attention from him, that he was failing her as a love partner. His subsequent excesses led her to ask him for a separate bedroom, which, in turn, drove him into the arms of his all-too-willing secretary.
"Can I see you again?" Chuck asked. "Couldn't we sort of start over?"
"You'll see me tomorrow at the Training Center," she said, opening the car door and stepping out.
"I don't mean that. I mean the two of us, alone, another date?"
She looked at him carefully. He was a good looking man, a sharp dresser, nice even features, striking blue eyes and a handsome build. That he would almost beg her for a chance to redeem himself, pleased her immensely.
"I'll think about it," she said. She didn't bother closing the car door, but just turned and walked up the concrete ribbon that led to her apartment building, her platform heels clicking briskly.
When she tried to fit her key into the lock on her door, she found that her hand was trembling something awful. She had to steady it with her other hand to open the door. She closed the door behind her and locked it, securing the safety chain across it.
As she walked into her bedroom, a crawly, prickly feeling moved over her skin. It was so strong that it made her shiver. All the grappling with Chuck had left her with a "dirty" sensation. What she needed, she decided, was a long, hot, cleansing shower. She reached back and unzipped her dress and stepped out of it. As she did so, she moved closer to the big mirror on her bureau. She unhooked her sheer tricot bra and let it fall from her breasts, pushing the sweep of her long auburn hair out of the way so she could examine herself. Her nipples were all shriveled and taut, sticking out like pink pencil stubs. When she touched one with a fingertip, she found it very tender and hot. She turned from side to side, viewing the firm, pear shaped mounds, checking to see if Chuck-had bruised her with his greedy clutching fingers. She could not find a mark on them.
She peeled her panty hose down over her round hips, then down her legs. After kicking off her shoes, she removed the feet of the hose and put the wadded up garment on the dresser. She then hooked her thumbs inside her lime green bikini panties and peeled those, too, down over her hips. The fabric of her panty crotch came away from the lips of her sex all sticky and she felt the heavy moisture between her legs. Looking down, she saw that the narrow band of material was saturated with viscous fluid. She quickly looked up in the mirror. Under the fan of fine, reddish pubic hair on her pudenda, the double pair of labia were visibly swollen, the thicker outer lips actually pouting, puckering away from her mound, and their color was not the usual pale pink, but crimson.
"Ooh!" she cried, tearing off the wet panties, balling them in her fist and throwing them at her reflection in the mirror. She stormed into the bathroom and turned on the shower, adjusting the water to just below scalding. Then she got in and let the burning spray sear her body, turning round and round so no part of her would go unscorched. The jet of water buffeted her face, her throat, her breasts, tummy, crotch, thighs, buttocks, back. It was so hot in the shower and the steam was so thick that she could hardly breathe, but Amy wanted it that way; she wanted to get clean.
It was so unfair! she thought, reaching for the soap. Unfair to be a woman alone in a man's world. She wasn't prepared to deal with life on her own. No one had ever told her that it might be expected of her. She had always assumed that she'd be somebody's wife and therefore taken care of. She had never bothered to acquire and marketable skills, no typing, no shorthand; she couldn't even file. She'd never thought she'd have to. She thought her life with Burt was secure; that separate bedrooms would solve all their problems.
"Ha!" she said, over the sizzling jet, rubbing the bar of soap over her neck, working up a creamy, sudsy lather.
For a woman out on her own for the first time with no skills to speak of, she hadn't done so badly. She'd landed a job, or what seemed like it might eventually work into being a job. She'd answered an ad in the newspaper for salespeople. The ad was right up her alley because it specified "No experience necessary." It turned out to be a county-wide hiring/training program for a national cosmetics company, Soft 'n' Glowin', that did most of its sales door-to-door. She was interviewed and they liked her a lot, telling her on the spot that she'd qualified for the training program. Before they enrolled her in the course, however, they made her sign a contract which said she agreed to do the entire two-week training session for nothing and that she would be working on commission for the first six months after her graduation. She knew it was an iffy thing, but she had some money coming in from Burt and there was nothing else nearly as promising on the horizon, so she took it.
She met Chuck Hardy at her first training class. He was her instructor for the initial five meetings. He'd come on to her right away, trying to sweep her off her feet. It didn't occur to her until later, after she'd accepted the date with him that he'd seen her application and the little box on the front page which she'd checked that had "Divorced" written under it.
She stepped back out of range of the spray and soaped her breasts. As the slick bar of soap slid over her still-erect nipples, a tingling sensation exploded in the knob ends of her fleshy pears and she shivered. The tingling felt good so she continued to tease herself, rubbing the hard edge of the soap round and round her aureolas, making icebergs of white suds slide down over her rib cage, over her sleek, wet belly.
Chuck, she thought, fighting through the pleasure fog that slowly enveloped her, trying to concentrate on something other than the delicious feeling spreading from nipples to tummy to between her legs, had been so reserved, so polite all through dinner. She did notice the way his eyes kept dropping to her breasts when the conversation lulled. For an instant, before he realized that she was watching him, the look on his face was incredibly intense, as if he were trying to burn through the intervening fabric to get at them. She should've known he'd be an animal with her when they were alone. She could imagine him tearing the top of her dress away with his hands, shredding her bra, then grabbing her breasts in both hands and stuffing them, one then the other, in his hungry mouth, sucking and biting her nipples, making them stand out, long and hard.
"Ooooh," she said, softly, seesawing the silky smooth soap over the end of her nipple. It seemed to be getting steamier and steamier in the shower; her face was burning up and the air seemed thinner, much thinner than before.
Amy cupped her breasts in her hands and squeezed them, mashing them up against her chest until they looked like snow white moons. They were so amazingly smooth, so supple, filled with luscious liquid velvet. She squeezed them hard, the way Chuck wanted to squeeze them, milking them from the base to the tips in a single rolling motion of her hands. Flurries of delight danced down her tummy and little sparks flashed in her fork.
As she let go of her breasts and slid her soapy hands down over her flat stomach, she had a twinge of doubt. She knew what she was about to do was very wrong, but she couldn't stop herself. She didn't want the all-over glow to end, she wanted it to blossom, to billow all over her body, do drive away the anxious, jittery feeling she knew lurked somewhere just under the surface of her consciousness.
"Ummm," she said, sudsing her tummy, watching the creamy foam slip down over her wet pubic hair. It ran down the inside of her legs from thigh to ankle, like ... she smiled ... clean cum. Would Chuck Hardy have clean cum? Would it sparkle as the light reflected off a million tiny, perfect bubbles? Would it stream out of her vagina in a glistening clean torrent?
Her hands moved lower and the bar of soap touched the sprig of hair atop her mound. More suds. More clean cum; She imagined Chuck Hardy's cock, large, but certainly not menacing, the swollen head a bubble gum pink color, a brand-new, unused color, the shaft thick and smooth and laced with intertwining veins of bright blue. She imagined his balls, heavy orbs in their smooth, furry sack, snuggled uptight against his crotch, ready to unleash their gushers of hot, clean cum. Gushers that would bathe her whole fork in gleaming white, even as her busy, busy fingers were bathing it now.
The bar of soap slipped down over the summit of her mound. It had long ago ceased to be merely a bar of soap. Now, it was the smooth middle finger of Chuck Hardy.
"Oooooh!" she cooed, clutching at the towel rack for support, as the slick middle finger of
Chuck Hardy pushed down over the lips of her vagina. The fingertip teased round and round the outside edge of the furious oval, drawing a part through the few sparse hairs that fringed it, covering it with warm white foam.
Amy shuddered violently every time the fingertip neared the mouth of her sex, threatening to push into her. Between her legs, there was a rush of sparks, a sudden heat, followed by a rhythmic muscle spasm. She could feel the mouth of her sex opening and closing reflexively, trying to suck the taunting digit inside. She carefully stood on one foot and, still holding onto the towel rack, put her other foot on the rim of the tub, spreading her thighs wide apart for "him."
The slick finger moved in concentric circles, narrowing in on the slit between her labia. It seemed to take a million years for the digit to touch the edge of her outer lips, but when it did, the effect was pure fireworks.
"UHH!" Amy cried, her hips tickling with a will of their own, hunching into the bar of soap that was more than soap, forcing it to push between the heavy flaps, to dip into the top of her slit.
One touch was not enough. The slippery finger began to move rapidly up and down the narrow opening, pushing aside the sleepy petals, pushing into the grip of the thinner, tighter inner lips. A crazy smooth thing massaging her pussy, peeling back the spongy lips, revealing the flaming pink lining of her sex.
"Uhh! Uhh! Uhh!" Amy wailed, each time the moving finger slit to the nadir of her gash, poking at the fluttering orifice. The fever in her blood raged full blown, fantasy was reality, and her smooth, round buttocks began to shift, rocking back and forth, jamming the mouth of her vagina into the tip of the soap.
When she felt her sphincter finally yield, stretching from the pressure, the heat, the lubrication, to admit the thick end of the bar, she stopped, gasping for air. It was no longer soap, no longer finger; it was cock, bubble gum pink cock pushing up into her pussy.
Tentatively, the smooth probe moved forward, making the drooping outer lips turn in, sliding through the quivering ring.
"Oh, yes! Yes! Amy whimpered, her face twisted with pain from the size of the tool slipping up her.
But Chuck was, of course, relentless. He pushed deeper, parting the walls of her moist channel with the tip of clean member.
Amy looked down. Her eyes were glazed with pleasure, glazed and unfocused, but she could see. She could see the flaring rim of the brand-new penis cap disappear between her labia; she could feel the smooth, velvety edge of that ridge moving against the sides of her passage, forcing it further and further apart. The thick shaft followed the head, sliding between her distended lips, vanishing into the depths of her belly.
Then, the knob stopped abruptly and Amy jerked as if she'd been given a massive electric shock. The great smooth dickhead had bumped into her clitoris, her thrill center, a small, wrinkly clump of erectile tissue on the upper surface of her channel, and that collision sent rippling waves of pleasure flying over her belly, her breasts.
"Oh, darling, yes!" she gasped, as the knob bumped her clit again and again, as the waves of Joy lifted her higher and higher. Her knees began to tremble and the even, rhythmic rolling of her hips fell apart, became wild, spastic humping.
Though she imagined she was receiving Chuck's wonderful cock, she was, in fact, receiving what was left of a fresh bar of Ivory. There was no in-out movement, no deep penetration of her vagina; instead, she held the bar of soap just inside the mouth of her sex, with the edge pointing up, and moved it from side to side, rocking her wrist, making the slippery edge sweep back and forth across the super-sensitive surface of her clit.
All at once, the bottom dropped out of Amy's world. A spark much brighter than all the rest exploded in her mound, igniting a chain reaction of Joy that pushed her over the brink. She tumbled through the blackness, head over heels, and the only thing she could feel, she could sense was the powerful rhythmic seizures of her pussy sucking on the tip of the thing that spitted her, powerful seizures and ecstasy that blocked out all thought.
When she opened her eyes, the bathroom spun round and round. Her heart was pounding horribly, as if it were trying to climb up out of her throat.. But between her legs, there was a wonderful afterglow, a pleasurable radiance that licked up at her belly. She looked down at herself and saw the thing, the end of the white bar of soap protruding from between her angry petals, sticking out lewdly like a horrid white tongue. Guilt hit her at once, racking waves of it that negated the pleasure she still felt. She reached for the soap, but before she could touch it, her vagina had yet another seizure and the constricting action sent the thing squirting from her gash, flying out of the tub enclosure and skittering across the tile floor.
"Damn! Damn!" she moaned, miserably, turning off the water, reaching for a towel. She'd known it was wrong to do what she'd done. She'd had a chance to stop herself and she hadn't taken it. She knew what she'd feel like when it was over, how cheap, how low ... and still she hadn't stopped.
She rubbed the towel over her body with a vengeance as if trying to scour the evil from herself. When she was done her body was a ruddy pink, but not nearly as ruddy as the meat of her sex. She looked down at herself in disgust. The whole oval mound of her pussy was a fiery red, the lips drooped pendulously, hanging down like the flaps of a tiny tent over the gaping, much-prodded orifice.
She hated herself for her weakness, for her stupidity. Masturbation never did any good, never relieved the tension; it only made things worse, made her feel worse about herself. She'd heard that sex was supposed to be so wonderful, so relaxing, so desirable, but it'd never been that way for her. When she made love with Burt, there was the horrible, sticky mess afterwards, a mess that sometimes leaked out of her for days; when she made love to herself, there was the awful, paralyzing guilt. She cursed her luck for being born the way she was, born frigid, but the sound of her own voice ringing in the room sounded so small, so pathetic, that it only infuriated her more.
She searched the room for something, anything to take her rage out on, but there was nothing. How can you hurt a towel? A bathmat? What can you do to a roll of toilet paper that will make it think twice? Her failure to find a suitable, inanimate object brought tears to her eyes. She blubbered and babbled, burying her face in her towel.
Then her foot touched something, something cold and sticky. She peered down at it, squinting through swollen eyes.
"Damn you!" she cried, bending down and snatching it up, strangling it with both hands as she rushed it to the toilet. "Damn you, damn you, damn you!" Tears streamed down her face as she flung open the white plastic lid.
"There!" she shouted, hurling the object into the pool of still water.
Liquid splashed out onto the floor, but she didn't care, she was about to take her revenge on the perpetrator of the vile act; she was about to consign him to a grisly and altogether fitting fate.
"Go to hell!" she hissed, throwing the flush lever, watching the sliver of soap vanish down the throat of a rushing whirlpool.
CHAPTER TWO
Amy's session at the Training Center the next morning was short and sweet. It was Graduation Day. She was handed her diploma and her sample case, given a pat on the head and shown the door.
Waiting at the door for her was Chuck Hardy.
"All ready to face the hard, cruel world of business?" he said, smiling at her.
Amy lifted her genuine suede vinyl case and said, "I carry the very best, what else do I need?"
"Hey! I can use that," he said.
"Help yourself," she said, starting to move past him.
"Wait," he said, touching her arm.
She didn't exactly recoil, but it was close.
"Sorry," he said, drawing back. "It's about the date. You said you'd let me know about another date?"
Amy sighed. "Look, I've really got a lot of other things on my mind today. like where I'm going to start on this list." She held up the list of addresses in her assigned territory.
"If I give you a hint that's not part of the program, will you go out with me again?"
"That's blackmail!"
"No, it's barter," he corrected her. "Well, what do you say?"
"If it's something that will help me, sure."
"Great!"
"The tip?"
"Sure. Get yourself a good street map and find the area in your territory that has the wealthiest people, the biggest homes," he told her. "That's where to start if you want to make it."
"You think that's worth a date?" she said. "Anybody could figure that out."
"Had you figured it out, yet?"
"Well...."
"Then a deal's a deal, unless you're a welcher," he said. "I'll pick you up tonight at eight."
"No," Amy said, "that's too soon."
"Too soon?"
"I'm still recovering from last night's wrestling match," she told him.
"Hey, no more of that, I promised, remember."
"No more?"
"Well, only a round or two," he said, grinning.
"It's too soon, then," she said, walking away.
"Tomorrow?"
"Still too soon."
"The day after tomorrow!"
She could feel his eyes burning over her bottom, over the sweet, inverted heart-shape her buttocks and hips formed under the tight skirt. She wondered, with no small thrill, whether she would actually go out with him again, or whether she would "welch" on the deal and stand him up. She decided that it all depended on how many tubes of Soft 'n' Glowin' lip gloss, how many sets of eye shadow she sold today. She knew for a fact, though, that if she did go out with him again, she wouldn't let him get as far as he did with her the last time, no fondling of her breasts, no sudden gropings under her skirt. As she walked to her car, her inner thighs brushing, the nylon of her panty hose made a crisp but slithery sound, an exciting sound that made her feel very alluring and aloof.
She followed Chuck's instructions to the letter, first going to a stationery store and picking up a detailed street map directory, then sitting down with her territory list and picking out the ritziest section. It wasn't a difficult choice. Most of her area was in the east part of town, which took in the old downtown, the new sports stadium, and rows and rows of clapboard houses put up in the late Forties, stuccoed over in the late Fifties and left to rot in the Seventies. Above the eyesore of downtown, overlooking it and the Bay beyond, was the Windsor Park section. Built around the turn of the century, it was originally known as "Banker's Hill," for the simple reason that all the stately homes had been constructed to house the financial titans of the community. The bankers were still there, only they didn't just come from the lower slopes anymore, they came from all over the world. They were joined by wealthy industrialists, physicians, merchants. Windsor Park was definitely the place for Amy to start.
Her first few contacts were anything but encouraging, however. She parked outside the large stone and wrought iron gate that blocked the single street that wound through the park. Originally, the gate had been operated manually, by the chauffeurs, who'd had to get out of the limousines, unlock it, drive through, get out again, and relock it before they could continue on. The gate was operated by electronics from inside the car. It should be added that this barrier was only to automobile traffic, that the sidewalks on either side of it were open to anyone.
Amy walked past the gate and up to the first house on the left, a magnificent Tudor mansion. She rang the bell and waited, then rang again.
When the door finally opened, a butler in full livery stepped out.
"Good morning," Amy said, cheerfully. "Is the lady of the house at home?"
"Are you a solictress?" the man asked. His tone implied that he lumped "solictresses" in the same general category as lepers.
"I represent Soft 'n' Glowin' cosmetics," she began, giving her sample case a friendly pat.
He didn't let her get any further. "Can you read, madam?" he asked.
"Of course," she said, taken aback by his unexpected question.
"Then perhaps you didn't notice the sign by the bell?"
"Sign?" she said, her eyes darting to the wall beside the door. Sure enough, there was a sign. It said, in raised letters on polished brass plate, "Absolutely no solictors."
"Oh! I'm sorry," she said, blushing furiously.
"One would imagine so," the man said, stepping back inside and closing the door in her face.
It was like that for the first half dozen houses, even though she scrupulously avoided all the places that had signs posted. The doors were always answered by servants, some male, some female, and she was always given the quick brush off as if she had some kind of awful, communicable disease. She was beginning to feel rather depressed about her chances as she turned down the horse shoe drive of a huge Italian style home. Amy had never been to the Rivera, but she'd seen pictures of it on TV. This mansion looked as if it'd been moved, stone by stone, tile by tile, from some towering cliff and reconstructed on the spot. It was painted snow white and arched doorways and windows were decorated with rows of beautiful tile. As she stood on the curving apron of flat stone that formed the front stairs, she could see that at least one of the rooms in the house was two-stories high and that the ceiling was magnificently beamed. Above the bell was a small metal plaque. It didn't say anything about solicitors, though. There was just a name: "W. Mueller." Amy rang the bell.
One of the double doors opened and a woman appeared. She was strikingly beautiful in a Mediterranean way, her skin a tawny brown, her hair jet black and falling in loose curls to her shoulders, her cheekbones high and wide, eyes so dark as to appear almost black and heavily lashed. She was wearing a standard maid's outfit, a short black top skirt with a white long sleeved blouse, dark nylons and black patent leather shoes with three inch heels. Her figure was even more striking than her lovely, kitten face: the luscious curves of her full breasts and jutting hips were accentuated by the narrowness of her waist. Her legs were very long and slender, and her feet remarkably small and delicate.
"Yes, can I help you?" the maid said, giving
Amy a smile that turned up the corners of her full, sculptured lips and showed the even edge of her white teeth.
It was the first real expression of politeness, that she'd had all morning and it was so welcome ... and unexpected ... that she fumbled her opening line.
"Good morning," she said, "I represent the Glowin', no, the, uhh, uhh..."
"The Soft 'n' Glowin' company?" the maid offered, pointing at the embossed letters on the side of her attache case.
Amy blushed. "That's right," she managed to say. "Is the lady of the house at home?"
The maid seemed to consider this for a second, then said, "There is no lady of the house at the present time, unless you mean me."
"Would you be interested in seeing our line of fine, quality cosmetics?" Amy said, hopefully. "They really are inexpensive because we have no retail outlets, no store overhead."
"The owner of the house, my employer, Herr Mueller, doesn't like for us to use the main house for our personal business," she said. "Would you mind going around the side of the house, down the walkway to the back? That's where I live."
"No, of course not," Amy said. "Straight down the walk?"
"I'll meet you at the door," the maid said.
Amy turned and headed for the side of the house, opened a low, iron gate under an archway, and passed through, moving down the walk. She was not prepared for the panoramic view she found at the end of it. The back of the house opened onto a lush, sloping hillside and the whole city filled the lower part of the horizon, above it was the bay and then the Pacific.
"Lovely, isn't it?" the maid said to her back.
Amy turned and saw the woman standing in a doorway to the right of the lavish, glassed in rear portico.
"Yes, very," she said. "You are lucky to be able to enjoy it."
The maid smiled and nodded, then said, "Please, come in."
The interior of the house was very cool and it smelled of well oiled wood, fine furniture, expensive things.
"These are your quarters?" Amy said, unable to keep the astonishment out of her voice.
The maid laughed. It was a husky, warm sound. "As you said, I am very lucky. Herr Mueller treats his help very well, but he expects a lot in return."
"I can imagine," Amy said, her eyes darting from the Persian carpets on the hardwood floor, to the overstuffed couch upholstered in a bold, flower print, to the unique, arched fireplace in the center of the room's longest wall.
"I doubt that," the maid said, cryptically. "My name is Consuela. What's yours?"
"Amy. Amy Wilkerson," she said. "This is my first day on the job. Would you believe it? Boy, am I nervous!"
"Please, Amy, sit down, relax. I won't bite you. I'm just a poor working girl like you."
Amy took a seat on the couch and Consuela sat down beside her.
"Show me what you have," the maid said, tapping on the side of the case.
"Oh, yes, of course," Amy said, putting the case on her lap and then opening it. "I'm supposed to ask you if you have any complexion problems that you're having trouble with."
Consuela smiled.
"Oh, but your skin is so smooth, so perfect," Amy told her. "I guess that doesn't apply, does it? I can see I'm going to have trouble with all this because I memorized the little speech. I don't know how to ad lib it, yet."
"That's all right," the maid said, reaching out and patting Amy on the back of her hand.
It was a reassuring pat, a friendly pat and the woman's fingers were remarkably soft; Amy didn't mind it one bit.
"And, confidentially," Consuela went on, "I do have a few small problems."
"Really?" Amy said, incredulously.
"Yes. And they aren't the kind of problems I would consider discussing with a clerk at a drug store or even a pharmacist."
The implication was that she was considering discussing the "problems" with Amy. Amy was very flattered.
"I'd be only too glad to help, if I can," she said.
Consuela gave Amy's hand a squeeze and held it. "It's really quite a personal thing and if you don't want to hear about it, I can understand."
The look on the woman's face was so appealing, so open, that Amy couldn't help but give a squeeze in return. "It's my job to try and help people with all sorts of problems. I've been trained to be professional. Please, go ahead."
Consuela gave her a searching look and for an instant those huge black eyes of hers seemed incredibly sad, then she smiled. "It's a real relief to talk to someone I can trust about this," she said. "It's about my boyfriend..."
"Boyfriend?"
"Yes, Vincenzo. He's the chauffeur here."
"I don't understand," Amy said. "He has a skin problem?"
"No, it's nothing like that. It's, well, I don't know how to say this. I know it's going to sound horrible and you'll think awfully of me."
"Please, trust me."
"Vincenzo is a wonderful man, really he is, thoughtful, kind, loving, but he-likes me to do certain things that are, well, different...."
"I don't understand," Amy said. "What has this to do with Soft 'n' Glowin'? "
"Amy, I'm so ashamed! He-likes for me to put cosmetics on my private parts before we make love."
Amy's lower jaw dropped and her face flushed crimson.
"There!" Consuela moaned, miserably. "I knew it, I knew you'd loathe me, if I told you."
The woman's torment was so moving that Amy fought down her initial revulsion and began to stroke the backs of the hands that clung to hers so desperately, to speak soft words of comfort.
"Please, don't cry," she said. "It did shock me at first, but I'm over it. Tell me about it, get it out of your system." Amy reached out and brushed a tear from the woman's cheek. The silky skin of her face was very hot and it sent a disquieting shiver down Amy's arm when she touched it.
"He really is wonderful," Consuela said. "But he needs for me to do this thing before he can make love to me. I was stunned when he first asked me to do it for him. I refused. Then he explained it all to me. It has to do with the nuns at the parochial school where he was educated. I don't understand it. I don't think he does, either. But I did it for him. I was mortified, but I did it. Since then, I've become used to it and it's a matter of course. Everyone has some kind of problem, Amy. I thank God that Vincenzo's is as harmless as it is."
"What exactly is it that he makes you do?" she asked. There was a stirring in her crotch and a tingling at the tips of her breasts that was highly unprofessional. She squirmed on her seat uncomfortably.
"He-likes for me to use lipstick and eye shadow on my nipples and the lips of my vagina," Consuela said. "My anus, too. Sometimes he wants three or four shades circling my slit like bulls eyes. He-likes to kiss it when it's all painted up."
Amy shivered, though the room was quite warm. In her mind, she could visualize Vincenzo kneeling between Consuela's long legs, pressing his open mouth to the garishly adorned pudenda, moaning as he rubbed his tongue over the soft puffy petals.
"The problem is," Consuela continued, "that he is very forceful when he's kissing me and all the cosmetics get smeared together, all over me and all over his face, his tongue, his teeth. After he's done kissing me, we have to go through a whole routine of washing all the mess off, then repainting me before we can continue. He-likes to see it neatly painted while we're actually doing it. He pushes up off my tummy and watches it going in and out."
Amy didn't quite understand what was happening to her. The images that Consuela's words conjured up in her head were graphic, startling, and they made her heart pump laboriously in her chest and her face burn with a kind of feverish glow. The tips of her breasts tingled and itched and every time she moved her legs even the slightest bit, the slithery nylon on nylon feeling sent a quiver of excitement rushing up her thighs and into her fork.
"What do you want from me?" Amy said. It took a second or two for it to register on her that she'd said the wrong thing in the wrong tone. It was not so much a question as a statement, a declaration of submission erupting from her subconscious. She blushed furiously.
Consuela smiled. "I need some lipsticks and glosses that won't smear, but that come off easily. They should be hypo-allergenic, too."
Amy blushed even deeper. She realized with a start that she was disappointed that all the lovely woman wanted from her was a few paltry tubes of lipstick. She had expected, hoped for more, only she was not sure what that "more" consisted of.
She carefully turned the case around on her lap, letting go of Consuela's hands to show off the merchandise. The maid seemed to need the intimate contact, however, and put her warm, dry fingers on Amy's arm.
"This is our non-smear, hypo-allergenic line," she said, pointing to a rainbow of pinks, purples, reds, oranges. "Do you see anything you'd like?"
The maid glanced over the selection and picked out a few tubes, apparently at random, choosing a pink, an orange and a garish maroon. Holding the bright metal tubes in her hand, she said, "You do have a mirror, don't you?"
Amy fumbled with the catch inside the lid of her case. Finally, she opened it, dropping the partition, showing the maid her built in mirror. "Wonderful," Consuela said, gingerly unbuttoning the front of her dress, exposing the eek, heavy mounds of her breasts in sheer, smoke colored bra cups.
Things were moving way too fast for Amy to keep up with them. The crazy, sexy story about the chauffeur and his penchant for lip stick painted pussies, and now, this unbelievable strip show. She wanted to get up, to walk right out the door, but she couldn't budge from her seat; she was transfixed, mesmerized by the beautiful woman before her, but the sight of those big, round, soft brown nipples under the gauzy fabric.
Consuela slipped her fingers inside the right cup and scooped out her breast. It was marvelously firm for its size and stood out proud and jutting, actually up-thrusting from her smooth chest. The maid picked up the orange lipstick and twisted the case until the glistening, pointed tip protruded. Then she pushed on the resilient flesh of her tit, just above the nipple, making it tip up further so she could see it. As she applied the bright color to the wide ring, it began to visibly shrink, to wrinkle up, and the tiny central bud began to grow, pushing out from the end of her breast. Consuela made the greasy tip go round and round her nipple, but kept it away from the rapidly lengthening nubbin.
"Could you hold the mirror closer, please?" she asked, smiling at Amy.
The saleslady blinked her eyes, tearing her gaze from the glistening ring. "What?" she said, her mouth very, very dry.
"The mirror, closer," Consuela said, softly.
Amy moved closer, so their knees actually touched.
"Now for some of this, I think," Consuela said, putting down the orange and picking up the maroon. By this time, the ring of her nipple had shrunk up to practically nothing and all of its surface area had gone to the growing stub, so that the hard tip was already half-painted. When she touched the stub with the tip of the lipstick, she jumped slightly. "Ooh," she said, looking up at Amy, "that was naughty. It's not supposed to feel that good, but it sure does. This lipstick is so slick!"
Amy could not smile, could not nod.
Consuela quickly finished with the nipple, daubing the tip with the garish maroon. Then she licked her fingertip and pressed it to her bud, rubbing herself with it. As her fingertip pushed the hard stub back and forth, her dark eyes narrowed to slits and there was a touch of rose pink under the tan of her cheeks.
After a second or two, she stopped and examined the end of her finger, then the gaudy peak of her breast. "It doesn't seem to smear," she said, looking deep into Amy's eyes. "But that isn't the true test. I mean, it isn't the same as sucking, is it?"
Sucking! Amy licked her lips, moistening them with her tongue. Was it a reflexive gesture brought on by the dryness of her mouth or did she really want to suck that hot, hard nubbin, to squeeze that supple, silky globe?! The answer shamed her. That painted stub beckoned to her, begging for the warm, wet caresses of her lips, her tongue, the gentle nibbling of her teeth.
"I suppose I should try this everywhere," Consuela said, taking hold of the hem of her black skirt and raising up over her thighs.
Amy watched spellbound as the woman exposed the tops of her black nylon stockings and the snaps of the garter belt that held them up. The band of tighter knit nylon at the top of the stockings dug into the smooth, creamy flesh of her upper thighs, making it swell gently above the constriction.
Consuela didn't stop there, either. She lifted her skirt up over her tummy, exposing her entire fork.
It was naked! Amy's face burned with embarrassment ... and something else, something she did not want to recognize ... but that was not enough to make her look away. She gazed down at the fat hummock between Consuela's tan thighs. It was broad and protuberant, crested with a thick thatch of shiny black curls. At the very peak of the mound, the hairs grew much longer and took off on a wild, curling tangent, so that there was a soft cowlick just above the top of her slit. The tendrils of hair weren't just on the top of her pussy, either; they feathered out down the sloping sides of her sex, bridging the distance across her labia in a fine fringe. The lips, themselves, were tan like the rest of her on the outside, but on their inner edges, they were touched with the same rose pink as her cheeks. Fat and thick at the top, they tapered down to a thin, double ribbon at the base of her slit, a ribbon shaded by coal black fuzz. Under the downy sprig of hair, were the fat, round moons of her buttocks and the deep crack between them.
"Oh! I'm sorry," Consuela said. "I didn't mean to startle you. It's just that I never, ever wear panties. Vincenzo won't stand for it. He always-likes for me to be ready."
The maid moved down on the couch, scooting until her bottom barely rested on it, then she opened her legs wider, lifting her right foot from the floor, bending her knee and carelessly allowing the leg to lay against Amy's. Amy did not protest the contact, the warmth of the other woman's body was delicious, exciting. She stared down, almost unblinking, at the outspread crotch.
"First, the orange," Consuela said, taking up the lipstick in her right hand and with her left, holding back the tuft of black hair that blocked her view. As she pressed the tip to her outer labia, she made a small, muffled sound and the roses in her cheeks grew darker. The orange tip dragged over the puffy lips, painting them with raucous color, glistening color. As it moved, it pushed into the spongy meat, pulling at the soft hairs, gently tugging the heavy outer lips apart. When Consuela reached the bottom of her slit, she paused, breathing with difficulty.
Amy unconsciously moved further forward, for a closer look at the single shocking bracket, at the greasy pointed tip of the lipstick poised at the mouth of the woman's vagina.
Regaining her composure, the maid raised the lipstick and pressed it to the other side of her slit, drawing a band of color down it to match the first. By the time she reached the bottom, her composure was gone again.
"Ohhh!" she said, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. "It's so slick!"
The lipstick had effected more than just her pulse rate, too. The dragging, downward pressure had peeled her outer lips wide apart. Amy could clearly see their rosy inner surface, and from between them, the tighter inner labia puckered, beads of clear moisture forming on their prim edges.
"Now for the maroon," Consuela said, thickly, taking up the lipstick and pushing the tip against her slit, moving it down over the outside edges of her inner labia. She bit her lower lip as the point neared the entrance to her pussy. The further application of pressure had forced the narrow flaps apart, so that a band of darker rose showed between them, shining with heavy fluid. The bottom of her slit, the place above which the lipstick hovered, was bathed in wetness and the soft sprig of hairs was soaked, clinging to the smooth domes of her buttocks.
But Consuela was not finished. She raised the point again and pushed it between the thin lips, forcing them wide apart, peeling them back against the swollen outer ones, coloring them with rapid strokes. She worked her way down, spreading her vagina wide open.
Amy gaped at the yawning chasm, the wetly gleaming lining of Consuela's pussy, the small, flexing sphincter at its bottom, the entrance to her sex. It was all there for her to see, all painted shocking orange and maroon. Amy's heart pounded up under her chin, her head swam with the heat of the fever in her blood, and she could not seem to get enough air. She knew what was coming, knew it as sure as she knew anything, and yet, she couldn't run, couldn't escape. Deep down, she knew she didn't want to escape.
Consuela leaned back, and closed her eyes for a second when she finished. Her nostrils were flared, her lips pursed tight. Then she opened her eyes and looked at Amy, looked into Amy.
The saleslady felt like a small bird before a weaving cobra. Her will power seemed to flow out of the soles of her feet.
Consuela lifted her other leg from the floor and held her knees wide apart, offering her vagina to the panting Amy.
"Go on," she said, her voice smooth as silk, despite her obvious excitement. "Go on, baby, do it. You know you want to. You want to kiss it, to suck it. Your mouth is getting wet, isn't it? Your body is telling you to do it."
Amy swallowed hard. Her mouth was flooded with hot saliva, her lips tingled in anticipation, her tongue kept moving against the back of her teeth.
"Here, baby, here," Consuela cooed, reaching out, taking hold of the unresisting woman's dress, pushing it up over her waist.
Amy felt the fingers pulling at her pantyhose, dragging the waistband down over her hips, down around her knees, but she had no strength to make them stop. They burned over her tummy, hooking down under the band of her panties. Those, too, slipped down to her knees. Her hot fingers brushed the lips of her pussy and she shuddered as the surge of pleasure exploded between her legs.
"Noooo!" she moaned, her voice little girl small, little girl weak. She managed to take hold of the woman's wrist, but she could not keep the hand from moving.
"Easy, baby," Consuela crooned to her. "Easy. It's going to be wonderful, you'll see. Oooh! You're so wet, already, so sticky wet!"
The hot finger parted Amy's tender lips, pushing them back against the meat of her fork. Amy writhed and whimpered at the lewd caress, but she could not deny, even to herself, the incredible joy it was giving her. Her own body was betraying her. As the stroking finger neared the nadir of her slit, her pussy convulsed in a powerful rhythmic seizure and a rush of slick, clear juice slipped from its font, pouring down over her buttocks, down into the crack between them.
"Ooh, baby, yes!" the maid said as the fluid bathed her probing finger. Gently at first, but with a gradually firmer, more insistent pressure, she began to twist her finger up into Amy's vagina.
Amy began to sob and she clutched the wrist harder, but just held on to it, making no attempt to push it away. The small, smooth probe bored up into her secret place, slipping easily into the juicy channel, pushing deeper, twisting, turning. Then it touched her cut. The explosion was like nothing she'd ever experienced. It flattened her consciousness and filled her skull with crisscrossing volleys of skyrockets. Her hips scooted on the couch, lewdly thrusting into the intimate caress, urging another.
"Ooh, we like it, don't we?" Consuela said, flicking her clit again.
"Uhhh!" Amy wailed, her bottom squirming with a will of its own.
"I've found it, haven't I?" the maid said, thickly. "I've found your little buzzer. And you're going to cum for me, now, aren't you?"
The finger rubbed furiously over the small, wrinkly bump and the explosions in Amy's pussy were nonstop.
"That's the way, baby! Move it, shake it! It's so good, it's good, isn't it?"
"Uhhh! Uhhh!" Amy cried, hunching into the pistoning finger, digging her nails into the pumping forearm. She could feel her pussy start to flutter, to suck at the diving probe; she could sense the nearness of her oblivion, taste it in the back of her throat, sweet 'like honey and thick, so very thick.
Consuela could feel the spasming orifice, too, and she knew the woman was almost cumming, so turned on that nothing on earth would stop her from finishing it.
"Now, lover, now," she said, hoarsely, taking hold of Amy's long hair, pulling her face down, down towards her outspread fork.
Amy knew what was happening. Somewhere beneath the gasping, frantically humping form, she knew what it was all about, what she was expected to do now. Her stomach churned at the thought, but she could not make the finger stop, could not make the explosions stop, could not keep her hips from lunging into the flicking digit, could not keep her head from being dragged down between the spread legs.
"Now, kiss me, lick me, love me," the maid moaned, pulling Amy's face down against her thigh, scant inches from her gaping slit.
The feel of her smooth skin against Amy's cheek made the saleslady's mouth flood once more with drool.
"Go on!" Consuela cried, releasing her head, but fingering her pussy with an unholy zeal, as if trying to rub the clit right off her.
Amy moved. She told herself that it was not of her own volition, that she was being driven to it by the thrusting finger, by her need to finish, but the little voice inside her head would not agree. She wanted it, she needed it as much as Consuela. Amy moved, moaning balefully, her hands sliding down the backs of the maid's thighs.
"Go on! Go on!" Consuela wailed, her hand a blur between Amy's legs. Unable to bear the tension any longer, she grabbed hold of the back of Amy's head and pulled hard, jerking her face, her mouth against the steaming maw of her cunt.
Amy gagged with revulsion. It wasn't the feel of those hot, slick lips slipping over her mouth, daubing her face with unctuous goo; it wasn't the tickle of crisp pubic hairs against her nose, or the feel of a cuntal sphincter squirming desperately against her lips; it wasn't even the idea of kissing another woman's sex that bothered her, so much as it was the scent. Even the perfumed lipstick could not mask the raw, rasping, cloying odor of woman-in-heat. It was a rank smell, a dirty smell, and she could not bear it.
"NOOOM" she shrieked, tearing her face out from between the dewy flaps, jerking the finger from her wet and twitching channel, and shoving a very startled Consuela back against the couch.
"Easy, baby, easy," Consuela gasped, opening her legs again, pushing a pair of fingers into her own sloppy wet slit. "Come here, come on..."
"Oh, God!" Amy wailed, touching her face, feeling the sticky moisture, the stinky fluid that bathed it.
She ran for the door, sobbing, half-stumbling trying to pull up her panties and pantyhose as she ran. When she hit the door, jarring it open, she heard Consuela swear behind her. She kept right on going, down the walk, then across the front lawn to the sidewalk, straightening her clothes as best she could. She jumped into her car and roared away from the curb.
It wasn't until she was almost home that she realized she'd left her sample case behind.
CHAPTER THREE
Amy parked her car and trudged up to her apartment. As if the guilt over what she'd let the maid do to her, what she'd almost done to the maid wasn't enough, she somehow had to deal with the problem of the missing sample case, as well. Over and over at the training sessions, it was drummed into her that the one thing that was really important was the sample case. Chuck had called it "the store in a box," and the "moveable showroom." It was Soft 'n' Glowin'. She knew down to the cents what it would cost her to get a new one; that'd been drummed into her, too:
$255.43. Without the case, she didn't stand a chance of ever earning a commission, of paying for a new outfit. It was a vicious circle. The only answer was obvious and horrible for her to contemplate ... she had to go back and retrieve her property. The idea of returning to that place and facing the woman who'd fondled her so intimately, who'd wrung from her lips cries of delight that Burt had never heard, who'd used her so callously, like an object whose sole purpose was to give pleasure, to lick, to suck, made her skin crawl. She immediately went into the bathroom and took a shower so long that the hot water petered out and forced her to rinse off quickly with luke-warm.
She was putting off the inevitable and she knew it. There was no getting around the fact that she was going to have to make the trip, face the music, whatever. She glanced at the clock and saw ... with no small relief ... that the day was nearly over and promptly put off the trip until tomorrow. She would go tomorrow.
Tomorrow found Amy sitting in her parked car outside the stone gate. She sat there for a full hour before working up the nerve to do what she had to do. What kept her pinned to her seat was the awful fear that the whole thing might happen again, that the sultry woman might try to seduce her again, that she might succeed. She decided, after sixty minutes of paralysis, that if worst came to worst she could always grab the case and run.
She rang the front bell of the Mueller mansion and waited, trying to calm her frazzled nerves with the assurance that it would all be over very, very soon.
The door opened and Consuela appeared. As soon as she saw who it was that'd come a-calling, a broad smile formed on her lips. As there seemed to be no further need for coyness and trickery, the maid spoke with stunning frankness.
"Back again, baby?" she said. "Couldn't sleep a wink last night, I'll bet. I'll bet you changed your mind about kissing me, too." Her dark eyes flashed and her right hand went between her slim legs. The heel of her hand pressed into her fat pudenda, rubbing over the back satin of her maid's uniform.
As Amy watched the hand massage the cuntal mound, she had a mind-bogglingly vivid flashback of the previous day's happenings. The scent of aroused pussy once again seemed to rasp the inside of her nose. Her pulse rate soared.
"I've come back to get my sample case," she said, with difficulty. "I left it here yesterday."
Consuela paused in her obscene fondling, her eyes narrowing. "You didn't come back for me, then?" she asked.
The edge to the woman's voice bothered Amy. It was full of barely restrained fury.
"I have to have my sample case back," the saleslady repeated. "Please..."
"Very well!" Consuela snapped. "Have it your way..." She stopped teasing herself and marched out the front door, past Amy, and turned down the walkway.
Amy had to trot to keep up with the angry woman. She told herself that nothing else mattered except getting the case and making her escape.
"It's still right where you left it," the maid said, opening the door to her quarters.
Amy stood outside, hoping that the woman would hand her property out to her. No such luck.
"Well, do you want it or not?! " Consuela demanded from inside. "If you want it, you're going to have to come in and get it!"
Amy steeled herself and walked into the house. The maid stood to the left of the door; her sample case lay on the sofa. She quickly crossed the room and grabbed up the case. When she turned around, she saw Consuela bolting the door.
"No!" she cried, rushing at the black-haired woman. "No, let me out! I don't want to be here! You can't keep me here!! "
Consuela gave Amy a bone-jarring shove. "Stop that whimpering, you little idiot!" she snapped. "I want you to meet a friend of mine. Vincenzo!"
Out of the corner of her eye, Amy could see a large form step into the doorway behind her. She turned with a start, clutching the sample case to her chest for protection.
The man was tall and thin and dressed in a white athletic t-shirt, black chauffeur's breeches, and high black leather boots. His hair was shiny black and very dry looking and his skin was pale and sallow and for the most part covered with a dense mat of black hair. Hair curled over his bare shoulders, out of the throat of his t-shirt, down the backs of his arms and over his hands. His face was handsome in a ruthless way, his nose thin and straight, his chin broad and clefted.
"Well, well," he said, grinning at her.
Amy could feel his eyes roaming over her body, over her breasts, between her legs. It felt as though his gaze was leaving behind a sticky residue, a snail's trail. She shivered in disgust.
"Well, well, if it isn't the door-to-door whore," he said, chortling, folding his arms across his chest, making his dough-colored biceps bulge alarmingly.
"She came back for her case," Consuela said. "At least that's what she said..."
"All I want is the case and to be left alone," Amy said, moving closer to the door in a sideways, crab-step
"Is that really all you want?" the man asked, his hands sliding down to his narrow hips, drawing her gaze to the heavy swelling in the front of his trousers.
Amy felt her face flush with embarrassment and she jerked her eyes away. No, the lewd gesture was not lost on her; it filled her with a gnawing panic.
Would they force her to submit?! Was that the plan?! ! To get her back here in the back of the house where her cries for help would never be heard?! !
"Hey, she's nice with some color in her cheeks," Vincenzo said, moving close to her. He took hold of her chin in his powerful hand and forced her face up, forced her eyes to meet his. "I know how to really make 'em glow, baby. I can do it for you."
His fingers were rough and his body smelled of cheap deodorant. Amy recoiled from his invitation of sex as if struck. She shoved the edge of her case into his stomach, driving him back.
"Oww! Hell!" he croaked, clutching his belly, his eyes wide with surprise. Then they hardened. "This little cunt thinks she's too good for us," he said to Consuela. "She really does."
"I told you," the maid said. "Stuck up little bitch!"
Vincenzo's lips curled in a lewd smirk. "I get the feeling that it's all bullshit, though," he said, moving towards her again. "Like all she needs is a little push in the right direction and she'll come around just fine."
He reached out and put his hand on her breast, squeezing it hard, his thumb rubbing over the center of the supple cone.
Amy reacted to the assault instantly, without thinking. She slapped him hard across the face.
Vincenzo didn't even flinch. He took her other breast in his other hand and mashed them both up against her chest, kneading them salaciously, as if they were his own personal property.
"Real nice tits," he said, appreciatively. "And Connie, there, tells me that you got a real tight little pussy on you, too. We're gonna have us a ball, baby."
That the man did not react to her blow terrified her even more than the way his hands were mauling her breasts. She was not helpless! She would not submit to this obscene indignity! She brought her knee up fast, between his legs.
"Oooof!" he gasped, staggering back, clutching his crotch with both hands.
"No!" the maid cried, seeing her lover doubled over in agony. "Stop this!"
Amy was not prepared for sudden retaliation. Consuela fell on her, slapping her, kicking and punching. The best she could do was retreat, her head ringing, her face stinging from the rain of blows. She retreated right into the hands of the furious Vincenzo.
"Beat her!" he growled, pinning Amy's arms to her sides. "Slap the shit out of her!"
Consuela did just that, dealing Amy a series of open-handed blows that sent her head snapping back and forth on her shoulders like a rag doll's.
"Oh! Oh!" the saleslady exclaimed, seeing stars at every impact, her face burning with the heat of the abuse.
"Enough!" the man said, twisting Amy away from the maid's reach. He shoved Amy to the couch and forced her to sit. "Connie is a lightweight compared to me, baby," he told the sobbing woman. "If you think you've just had some trouble, you ain't see nothing yet. You'd better do exactly as I say or they're gonna take you out of here in a garbage can. Do you understand?"
Amy trembled all over, as much from rage as from fear. The idea that she was treated this way, mauled and fondled and slapped, like some kind of totally worthless thing absolutely infuriated her.
"Now, take off your clothes, baby," the man said. "I want to see your tits and pussy."
"Go to hell!" she cried. "You can beat me, you can kill me, but you can't make me do what you want!"
"Well, I'll be goddamned!" Vincenzo said. "This stupid cunt thinks I can't make her beg me to fuck her!"
"He can," Consuela said, looking at Amy, her eyes glaring, full of hate. "He can make you do anything he wants."
"Ha!" Amy said.
"OK, baby, you fucking asked for it," he said, unbuckling his thick black leather belt and sliding it out of his belt loops. "I like it better this way, anyhow...."
She could see that. Amy could see the visibly throbbing bulge in his crotch. When he raised the belt in his hand, she instinctively covered her face with her arms.
"Get her, Connie!" the man ordered, lunging.
Though Amy struggled with all her strength, she could not keep from being dragged to the carpet, from being forced into a degrading, all-fours position, with her face pressed into the floor and her bottom stuck way up in the air.
"Oh, please! More!" she moaned, as Vincenzo's rough hands pushed her skirt up over her back, exposing her whole backside to his view. She tried to wrench herself free from Consuela's grip, but the woman held her fast.
"Well, would ya look at that!" the man said. "Pussy, here, wears pantyhose and panties, too. She must have something extra special in there, something she has to keep under wraps. Let's have a look."
"Noooo!" Amy wailed as the thick fingers caught hold of pantyhose and pantie waistbands and dragged them down over her buttocks, down over her thighs.
"Look at that!" Vincenzo groaned, staring down between her naked and lewdly outflung buttocks. "Wow, what a pretty cunt!"
He reached out with his free hand, cupping the plump pubic mound. As his calloused fingers began experimentally stroking the softly resilient pussy curls, Amy closed her eyes, crimson at the indignity of being held there, helpless, while this animal pawed her obscenely exposed genitals. She moaned softly in shame and humiliation as she felt the tip of Vincenzo's middle finger part the tender fleshy folds surrounding her vagina and push itself into the moist warm depths of her pussy. She felt the blood rising in her head until she thought her brain would burst from the pressure as he chuckled with lustful glee.
"Oh, shit, is she ever tight!" he exulted, twisting his finger, rubbing it over the juicy walls of her cunt. "This is gonna be something!"
Amy resisted the assault, if only mentally. She gritted her teeth and thought, over and over, how much she hated these monsters, these horrible lustful monsters.
"How about it, baby?" Vincenzo said, pushing his finger in and out of her pussy rapidly. "Do you want to fuck me now? Are you getting hot for some cock?"
Amy said nothing aloud, but in her mind, she was chanting, screaming, "Hate you! Hate you!"
Her silence enraged him. "Not yet, huh?! " he said, withdrawing his wet finger. "Hold her!"
Amy heard the hiss of the belt uncoiling overhead, heard the swish as it snaked down towards her upturned buttocks, and even though she steeled herself for the pain, when it came, it took her completely by surprise.
SSSSSWWHACK!! ! The sound of the impact of leather on naked flesh was like a pistol shot.
Nothing, nothing in her life prepared her for the pain of that blow. Her whole bottom jerked, quivered under the force of it, and she jumped, hopping forward an inch or two, her face pressed into the carpet. The agony was blinding, staggering and she bawled into the rug, her breath coming in ragged little gasps. She hadn't intended to scream, she didn't want to give them the pleasure of hearing her cry out, but she couldn't hold it back.
SSSSSWWHACK!! !
"YEEEEE!" she wailed, jerking horribly, pawing at the carpet in a futile attempt to escape the awful hurt that spread, billowing down over her buttocks, down the backs of her thighs. She was sure that if she looked around her hip, she would see her bottom literally hanging in tatters.
SSSSSWWHACK!! !
SSSSSWWHACK!! !
SSSSSWWHACK!! !
Vincenzo rained blows down upon her defenseless backside, gruntint with the effort. Time ceased to exist for Amy, even the searing strokes of the belt did not divide it, for her pain was constant and her pain was all that filled her mind. Her resolve not to submit melted under the torrent of lashes. She could visualize herself dying, there on the rug, being thrashed to a bloody pulp and tossed out with the garbage. Anything was better than dying like that, anything was better than enduring another instant of the awful hurt.
"Ohhhhh!" she wailed, flapping her arms feebly at her sides, unable to even articulate her surrender.
SSSSSWWHACK!! !
SSSSSWWHACK!! !
Something hot and wet rolled down the backs of her thighs. Blood? Urine?
"OHHHHH!! ! " she howled, pounding the floor with her fists, sobbing brokenly.
"What's that?" Vincenzo asked, leaning down over her. His face and arms were beaded with sweat and the bulge in his pants had become a long, thick rod down the right trouser leg. "Do you want to tell me something?"
"Uhhhhh-gggummmmaa!" she wailed, miserably.
"Speak up!"
"P-please! Oh, please stop it!" she said. "You're killing me."
"Beg me."
Amy froze. Even though she'd already decided that she could stand no more of the beating, she could not bring herself to beg this awful man to make love to her.
SSSSSWWHACK!! !
The belt never touched her. Vincenzo cracked it a good foot above her flaming bottom. But, oh, how she jumped at the sound, at the feel of the air gusting over her ravaged buttocks.
"Fuck me ... Yes!" she cried, the words coming out in a jumbled torrent. "Anything! God, I can't take any more. Fuck me, please!! ! "
Above her, Vincenzo laughed. "Don't mind if I do," he said. "But first, I think you'd better get out of the rest of those clothes. I like to see what I'm getting."
Consuela helped her, pulling the dress off over her head, unhooking her bra and releasing the resilient mounds of her breasts. When she was completely naked, the maid moved to one side, admiring her smooth, firm body. There was no need for Amy to be restrained any longer, all the fight, the spirit had been beaten out of her. She knelt on all-fours with her battered bottom facing Vincenzo, presenting it to him in an unmistakable gesture of subservience.
The chauffeur unzipped his pants and pulled out his blood-thickened cock, masturbating it through his closed fist as he stepped around in front of the dazed woman.
"I like the chicks to see what they're getting, too," he said, waving the rigid length of meat at her.
Amy groaned. It was huge! An iron hard, up-curving shaft of mottled, yellowish brown flesh, webbed with heavy, throbbing blue veins all along the underside, and crowned with a purplish, bulbous head that already glistened with seeping seminal fluid. Under the horribly broad root of the cock, amid the tangle of matted black pubic hairs, hung a pair of massive, sperm bloated balls.
"Like it, baby?" he said. As he spoke, the thing lurched in his grip, the drooling snout bucking up lewdly.
Amy could not speak. She was afraid to utter the words to describe her revulsion at the sight of the horrible instrument, at the thought that its gruesome thickness would all too soon be ramming up into the tightness of her vaginal passage.
"I said do you like it?! " he snarled, reaching down and grabbing a handful of her silky hair, twisting her face up close to the pulsing cap.
His loins smelled of sweat and something else, something rank and sour. Had he just finished fucking Consuela? Was he going to fuck again without even washing himself off? Fuck her with the spent semen and dried lubricant still clinging to his penis? Amy's stomach churned with disgust, but she answered.
"Y-yes! I like it!" she finally managed to say.
"She-likes it!" he said, chuckling.
"She'll like it more when it's up into her pussy to the hairs," Consuela said.
Vincenzo came around behind the kneeling Amy, kneeling around the outside of her legs, leaning over her smooth back.
Amy shuddered as she felt his weight come down on her, as she felt the blazing heat of his lust-thickened cock slip down between her outflung buttocks, as his rough hands caught up her breasts and milked them, pinching the pink nipples into erection.
"So fucking smooth!" he groaned, rocking his hips lewdly, forcing the underside of his arching cock to slide over the mouth of her vagina, the tight, wrinkled ring of her anus. As he humped on her, he pushed down on the back of her neck, forcing her cheek down against the rug, tipping her bottom even further up in the air.
The sensation of having that thick, slightly greasy cock rubbing over her entire fork while she was bent over her nose to the floor, like an ostrich, was horribly humiliating to Amy. She made no sound, no gesture of protest, though, perhaps because she knew that what was to come would be far, far worse.
Vincenzo pushed up off her and sat back on his haunches, peering into the cleft of her smooth, white buttocks. He put his thumbs to the inside of her cheeks and carefully spread them apart, as he did so, the pink ring of her anus came into view, and the outward pressure slowly drew her friction-reddened labia apart.
Amy groaned as she felt his fingers peeling her cuntal lips apart, opening her up for the assault. She groaned again as he suddenly thrust those paired fingers into her vagina, tearing at her innards, forcing them in and out, in and out.
"Juicy!" he exclaimed, working his hand faster. "Jui-cy!"
Amy began to sob softly. It was true. Her body was betraying her again. She could feel her vagina getting all wet, loosening under his insistent fingering. Her shame at the sounds, the moist, sloppy sounds, her pussy made around his plunging digits, knew no bounds.
"More, Vincenzo!" Consuela moaned. "This is getting me so hot!" The maid had her hand in under her dress and it was moving rapidly between her legs, making the fabric flutter up and down, up and down.
"You aren't the only one, baby," he said, "our little door-to-door whore is ready for a nice fuck."
The chauffeur pulled his shining fingers from her slit and daubed the slick fluid onto the head of his cock. Then once again, he climbed up on her back, bending his fiery rod down from against his chest, fitting the purple knob to the hot and slippery gash. The heavy bulb totally dwarfed the small opening, obscuring all but her red pubic fringe from sight. Then he ticked his hips, nudging her.
Amy closed her eyes. It was really happening, the horrible, unthinkable was really happening. She felt the monstrous knob push at her wet, warm pussy, felt her sphincter stretch, trying desperately to accommodate it. Instinctively, she clenched her buttocks together, attempting to block the entrance of the massive probe.
"Oh, yeah?" Vincenzo said, his breath coming hard and fast. "It's a little late for that, baby."
With that, he lunged, throwing his whole weight into the thrust, jamming his cock head through the mouth of her pussy.
Amy gasped at the stinging penetration, at the awful sensation of being filled past the limit, of being torn, ruined as never before.
"Yes! That is tight!" Vincenzo wheezed, gritting his teeth and pushing harder. Slowly, very slowly, his gruesome tool disappeared. The flaring rim of his cap caught on the petals of her cunt and turned them in on themselves, pushing them right up her cunt along with it.
Amy writhed under him. The burning! The awful burning as his cock drove relentlessly into her. For a split second, she was sure he was going to kill her with it, that he was going to tear her in two. There seemed to be no end to it; it just kept pouring into her, stretching her, tearing her.
"I can't stand it!" Consuela whined, dropping to her knees beside the lewdly locked couple. Her fingers slipped down between Amy's buttocks, down to the juncture of cock and pussy.
"C'mon!" Vincenzo moaned, as Consuela gripped his cock by the root. Fully, half of his shaft remained outside of Amy's body. It looked like a telephone pole jammed between her ivory thighs.
"Fuck her! Fuck her!" the maid cried, pulling on her man's cock, pulling it deeper into Amy's vagina.
The pressure was unbearable. It felt like the immense penis was going to push out through her belly. Then something inside her gave way.
Vincenzo's penis surged forward and Consuela squealed in delight, jerking her hand away, as the massive root slammed into the mouth of Amy's cunt.
"Uhhhhhh!" Amy wailed, as the heavy rod bottomed her, as the hairy balls slapped up against her pubic fan. She was broken!
Even as the chauffeur withdrew, his broad bulb tugging at the walls of her pussy, threatening to turn her inside out, Amy felt something push at her anus.
Consuela prodded the tight ring with a fingertip, then thrust, corkscrewing it right up her rectum.
The dual penetration was more than Amy could stand. She began to weep openly, whimpering as the awful finger rolled about over the walls of her anus, whimpering at the huge cock thrust again, burying itself into her quaking body to the root.
"Get out of there!" the chauffeur said, grabbing Consuela's obscenely pumping hand and pulling her finger from Amy's rectum. "That's mine!"
Amy howled as the slim, feminine finger was replaced by a thick, coarse masculine one. She tried not to move as she felt the pain easing with the stillness of her body, but the wildly excited
Vincenzo gave her no respite, drilling his finger deeper, circling it around the rubbery depths of her anal passage until she thought her rectum would split from the pressure.
Wheezing from his own frantic need, the chauffeur began fucking in and out of her with long, plunging strokes. His powerful hand grasped the round curve of her hip firmly, slipping the moist sheath of her broken, quivering vagina more and more easily back and forth over the throbbing thickness of his cock, as though he were thrusting a finger into a Vaseline-filled rubber glove.
But this still wasn't enough for him. He had to have even more. He wanted the sobbing woman bent completely to his will, nothing more than a slave to his driving hunger. Raising his hand, he brought it smacking down hard across her much-abused buttocks.
Amy jerked under him, whining like a kicked puppy.
"Move that tight little ass, baby!" he hissed. "Let's see you move it good!"
Amy shivered, then complied without hesitation. She knew enough now to realize that the first blow would only be followed by more if she defied his command. Her buttocks rotated slightly as she tried an experimental move. Feeling no pain, she allowed herself to follow his rhythm, grinding and twisting her ass back against his hard driving pelvis as he thrust more and more fiercely into her.
Again and again, she groaned aloud as she bucked at his command, feeling his finger pushing briskly in and out of her anus, pounding it even as his cock pounded her cunt.
He rammed his massive cock into her with a fury that grew wilder and wilder with each passing second, with each obedient thrust of her smooth hips. Her respiration had become one long continuous groan gasped out into the room with her face turned sideways to the floor so that he could watch with crazy, feverish eyes the total effect he was having on her. Her lips opened and closed half in torment, half in humiliation and shame at the sudden, uncontrollable feelings of wantonness and desire beginning to surge through her imprisoned body. The huge cock head buffeted her hard clit and the sensation of ecstasy, unwanted, loathesome, d is pi cable in this perverse situation, blossomed between her thighs.
Something moved in front of Amy, something touched her arms, sliding under her rib cage to touch her breasts.
"Oh, baby, you're going to eat me now," Consuela moaned, as she sat down directly in front of the kneeling woman. "You're going to eat me and love it!! "
The maid stopped squeezing her breasts and took hold of her hair, lifting her face from the floor. Amy watched through half closed, tear swollen eyes, as the woman ruffled up her skirt and spread her legs. There, directly under her nose was Consuela's pussy. And it was hot, too. The heavy flaps were all peeled back, the inner lips gaped, showing the sticky pussy lining, and the hair all around her vagina was a sopping wet beard.
"Suck me, lover! Suck me!" Consuela ordered.
Conditioned that disobedience meant pain, Amy quickly obeyed. She lowered her head into the outspread lap, pressing her mouth, her nose to the wet slit. Slowly, her lips began to nibble at the hairy flaps and as they did, the tangy woman smell invaded her nostrils, choking her, making her gag. She tried not to think about what she was being forced to do ... but it didn't work. Consuela's hips flipped up from the floor, slapping her moist vagina into her face, smearing the nasty fluid everywhere.
Behind the groveling woman, Vincenzo could feel himself building towards his climax. Every sensation in his body seemed to be draining away towards his pelvis, suffusing his veins with liquid fire. It couldn't be long now, he thought wildly. And he began fucking the upturned cunt still harder, increasing the tempo, battering mercilessly with his hips at her quivering ass-cheeks. His hand slipped under her belly and feverishly gripped her breasts, squeezing the soft tender flesh into distorted shapes beneath his fingers. With his lips bared back against his teeth, he stared lustfully at her slender, bucking body and bobbing head. The sight of her sweet face buried in the angry red maw of Consuela's pussy rocketed chills of lewd sensation along his spine, and with his fingers, he tore at her buttocks, stretching the twin moons wide apart so he could watch his finger flying in and out of her puckering pink pore, watch his thick, gleaming cock disappearing between the moist pink flanges of her cunt. "More, more!" he gasped aloud.
As the chauffeur lunged behind the ravished woman, his eyes flickered wantonly back to her face, to her small, pink tongue sweeping over the enflamed drapery of Consuela's cunt.
Amy worked in a daze, following the command of the maid's fingers, thrusting into the flips of her hips, into the searing wetness of the pussy that smacked into her mouth. As she licked and sucked, her mouth was filled with the thick juice and she was forced to swallow it, again and again, or strangle.
Consuela humped Amy's face with wild abandon, fitting her sizzling pussy directly over the snuffling, snorting woman's lips so she wouldn't miss a single tongue thrust, throwing her long legs around the back of Amy's neck, dragging her face deeper and deeper between the gaping lips.
Amy had never felt so utterly used and debauched in her entire life, and she sucked wildly with her mouth, jabbing her tongue into the wrinkly nub of Consuela's clit, gyrating her buttocks in a frenzied effort to end the torture as quickly as she could. That was all that was left now: To please them as well as she could and pray that it would be all they'd demand. Yet, somewhere and this was the most horrifying thing of all deep down in the depths of her consciousness tiny flickers of forbidden pleasure were beginning to tremble in response to the savage misuse of her body.
In front of her, Consuela jerked suddenly as if she'd received an electric shock, snapping her hips up into her face to sink the full length of Amy's stiffened tongue into her churning pussy.
Amy fought for breath as the cuntal sphincter clamped down on the root of her tongue, threatening to rip it out with the force of its milking seizures.
Even as the rapidly fluttering ring gripped her tongue, as Consuela thrashed out her orgasm against her face, from behind her there was a low, menacing growl. She felt her thighs and buttocks swept apart in one last, buttock-crushing rush as Vincenzo, fucking mercilessly into her from the other end speared his throbbing penis as far as it would go up into her naked belly and began spewing his hot, sticky semen against the walls of her womb.
He groaned aloud with lustful satisfaction as the steaming torrent of his sperm flooded out to fill her vaginal passage in rapid, violent spurts.
Amy could feel it shooting hotly into her and filling the depths of her belly until she thought her insides must burst, and then oozing slowly back out again around his still jerking shaft. After several convulsive throbs of his cock between the softly quivering cheeks of her ass, he fell forward over her back, pushing her face down into the loose and sloppy wet crotch of the maid.
CHAPTER FOUR
Amy lay intertwined with her tormentors as they gasped and sighed, trying to catch their breath, basking in the afterglow of orgasm. Her face was pressed against Consuela's smooth inner thigh and the pussy that she'd licked and sucked to climax lay open, glistening, just under her nose. Amy could not make a move to free herself. She had never felt so debauched and lost in all her life and to add to the confusion of her thoughts was the unmistakable and growing conviction that something was very wrong. The memory of Vincenzo's mammoth knob rasping over her clit, of
Consuela's warm, wet cunt all velvety smooth under her tongue made her shudder ... and not entirely from disgust. The uninvited devils of desire first aroused by Consuela's probing finger and later incited by the twin rape of her mouth and cunt were clamoring for recognition. Unbelievable as it seemed, the brutal violation of her defenseless body had stimulated a lust, a passion that still mouldered in the quivering depths of her loins.
Gradually, her captors stirred. The chauffeur pushed up from her back, his once proud penis now shrunken and limp, the balls hanging low in their hairy sack. She could not help but stare at it, at the thing that had broken her. Even in its flaccid state there was power in it, power in its ugliness, power in the thick white drizzle that still slipped from its slot.
"Well?" he said, towering over her.
Amy blinked up at him, flinching at the sound of his voice. Her eyes darted from his face to his cock and remained there. She stared at the translucent patina that shrouded it from tip to root. That was her lubricant, her slick juice.
"Go on!" he said.
Meekly, Amy raised her face, opening her mouth, extending her tongue. She touched the tip of his penis with it, licking at the milky seminal fluid. The raw, manly flavor exploded on her tongue and she lapped harder, swirling her moist tool over the fat cap, cleaning it.
"She does that very well," Consuela said, leaning down to inspect the activity more closely.
Amy opened her mouth wider and took the entire head inside, working her tongue over the underside of the bulb, over the heavy folds of his nerve bundle, sliding her sucking lips down over the sticky shaft.
"You're damn right, she does," Vincenzo said, leering down at her. "She's my whore!"
The sound of that word sent a quiver of feeling rushing up her spine. She didn't understand it, but it was so strong that it made her whimper.
"Get it all, whore!" he told her, bending his knees.
Amy pushed her lips down over the soft shaft, down to the root. Her nose was buried in the matted hair of his groin, his penis pushed over the back of her tongue and into her throat, choking her. She did not gag. Slowly, she disgorged the limp cock and as it slid between her lips, it pulsed, throbbing, growing. When the head was once again laying on her tongue, it filled her entire mouth, pushing against her cheeks.
She started to force it down again, but the man stopped her.
"Enough of that!" he said, pushing on her forehead, pushing her lips from his bulb. Free of the hold of her mouth, his cock jerked up, slapping moistly against his chest.
Amy gazed at the straining, arching length of his meat and swallowed hard. Did she really want it? Did she really want to take it in her mouth and suck it until it exploded, until it drowned her with gobs of sticky, rank sperm? Or was it just the aftermath of all the terrible things she'd been forced to do? Was she grateful to him for stopping?
"Are you going to fuck her again?" Consuela asked, her eyes flashing wantonly.
Vincenzo looked down at Amy, smirked and shook his head. "No, I don't think so," he said. "Not again, today. She's still too tight and it hurts my cock. You can go home, whore."
Amy just gaped at him.
"You can go home, now," he said, "but you're not off the hook. You're mine, one hundred percent, until I say different, understand? No other guys, nothing. Just me. Me, whenever I get the urge for some of your cunt. And when I come for it, you'd better be ready, too. Open house, wet and willing, the whole thing, or else!"
Amy reached for her clothes, nodding her head "yes" to his every demand.
"You're sure you don't want to give it to her again?" Consuela asked, as Amy slipped into her panties.
"No, I want to give it to you!" he said, grabbing her.
Consuela went rag doll limp, allowing the man to bend her over the arm of the couch. He quickly pushed up the hem of her skirt, exposing the tan moons of her ass. Then, grabbing his cock with one hand and bending it down from his chest, he put the fingers of the other to her buttocks spreading them, revealing the yawning mouth of her cunt and the tight ring of her rectum.
"Ooooh!" Consuela cooed, as her lover jabbed the massive head of his cock not in her ready pussy, but into her anus.
Vincenzo grunted, hunching into her, inching his great rod into her ass. When it was about half way in, the maid's mewls of pleasure turned into cries for mercy, but he kept on shoving it to her until his hairy root rasped against the distended ring. Then he slowly drew back and thrust, fucking her rectum in an even, rhythmic tempo.
Amy was mesmerized by the sight of all that furious meat slogging up Consuela's ass. She stood there, fully dressed, her sample case in hand, and stared.
"Git!" Vincenzo barked at her, his hips lunging.
As she moved for the door, she heard the maid give a sudden howl of delight and was astonished to see her actually hunch back, driving the awesome tool into her rectum.
"GIT!"
Amy ran out the door.
Once she was safely back in her car, she locked all the doors and threw herself down on the front seat and tried to cry. It wouldn't happen. She'd cried herself out. Inside of her, there was a vast emptiness. She was void of any kind of feeling. Even when she recalled the things she'd been forced to do, the indignities to which her body had been subjected, she could not summon up so much as a shudder. It was the shock of the incident finally hitting her, acting as a buffer, a shield to protect her sanity. She drove home like an automaton, safe behind her mental barrier.
It was only when she got home and undressed, that the real gut-wrenching terror set in. There was no way her mind could deny the existence of all those terrible bruises on her breasts, bruises from greedy, clutching fingers, or the hideous crisscrossing of purpling welts across the flesh of her buttocks, welts from Vincenzo's lashing belt, or the horribly swollen donut of her vagina, battered, torn by his thick, savage cock. She sat down on her bed, wincing at the sting as pressure was put on her sore bottom, and began to shiver and shake.
Worse than the things he had done to her, the things he had made her do to him, was the promise of things to come that he'd made. There was no doubt in Amy's mind that the two of them, Vincenzo and Consuela, were crazy, psychotics, dangerous.
As she slipped in under the covers, curling up in the fetal position, her mind raced ahead. Was there any way they could find her? Suddenly, she knew with a sickening certainty that there was. The sample case! It had her name and address on the little tag that hung about the handle. She curled up into a tighter ball, pulling the covers over her head. Her shivering made the whole bed quake. If they could find her, they could do it all over again ... and worse. She didn't want to be the slave of anybody. She wanted to be her own person. What if they came for her?! ! If she was alone, they could just take her away! She couldn't be alone! Then she remembered Chuck. He'd wanted a date with her, but that wasn't supposed to be until tomorrow. Tomorrow would be too late if Vincenzo got in the mood for her.
When she called Chuck on the phone and asked to push the date up one night, he was overjoyed. He said something about how she couldn't stand to be without him. It was supposed to be a joke, but Amy didn't laugh.
After she hung up, she realized that there was no way she could tell him what had happened to her. It was too degrading, too humiliating. And besides, it didn't sound real. Couples didn't go around kidnapping and raping door-to-door salesladies. It sounded made up, and she knew if she heard that story coming from someone, she'd think they needed help and fast.
When Chuck arrived at eight, Amy was all fresh and clean, dressed in a lavender terry cloth robe.
"You're not going out in that, I hope?" he said, looking at her slender legs, her narrow waist and the swell of her breasts under the fabric.
Now came the hard part. Amy had to convince Chuck to stay with her in the apartment. Going out was too dangerous. Anything could happen in a parking lot or on a dimly lit street. She had to stay behind closed, locked doors. The hard part wasn't thinking of some way to convince him to stay; it was forcing herself to do it.
"I thought we'd stay here this evening," she said.
Chuck got the picture immediately. His eyes lit up. He reached for her, slipping his hands around her waist, then sliding them down over her buttocks, pulling her up against his chest.
"Ooh!" she said, softly, groaning at the touch of his fingers on her bruised bottom.
Chuck pressed his mouth to hers, slipping his tongue between her lips and into her mouth. He darted it back and forth like a tiny cock and swept it over her tongue and the inside of her cheeks.
She let him do as he liked, gently nursing on the root of his thrashing tongue. It was almost as if he was doing it to someone else. His touch was so light, so delicate compared to Vincenzo's that she could hardly feel it. But when he pushed his hand into the front of her robe and caught her sore nipple between his fingers, she could feel it and then some. She jerked away from him, pushing his hand from her breast.
"What?! " he said, in disbelief. "Hey, if we're going to start that pricktease routine again, I'm going home."
"No!" she said, grabbing him by the arms and pressing her breasts against his stomach. She could feel the heat of his skin through the shirt, through the terry cloth, and it made her tender nipples stiffen. "No, please stay!"
"Hey, are you all right?" he said, looking down at her with genuine concern. "You look so pale...."
"I'm fine," she lied. To prove her point, she reached back and dimmed the room lights, then undid the buttons of his shirt.
"Ooh, that's nice," he said, as she slipped her warm, smooth hands inside and massaged his chest and stomach.
"This'll be nicer," she told him, undoing the top of her robe and taking out her breasts. In the dark, Chuck would not be able to see the finger marks. She once again pressed her body to his. This time, her taut nipples dug into his stomach. She squirmed against him, rubbing her silky mounds, the hot buds over his skin.
"Yea!" he groaned, wrapping his arms around her, thrusting his tongue down her throat.
She sucked contentedly on his tongue, moving her torso back and forth, caressing him with her breasts. She could feel his excitement building, not only in the way his kissing grew more and more energetic, but in the way his cock pushed against her thigh, lengthening, thickening. Soon, she thought, she would have to do something.
Chuck's hands moved over her bottom again, ruffling up the hem of the robe. His fingers slid down over her bare buttocks, down into the hot crack of her ass, down until they touched the soft hairs, the tender meat of her pussy.
Amy jerked again as he prodded the swollen oval of her vagina, stroking the puffy, bruised petals.
"Oh, darling, it's so hot!" he croaked, pulling away from the kiss. His finger pushed into the mouth of her pussy.
A horrible stinging pain lanced through Amy's vagina. She gasped and reached back, pulling his hand away. Chuck froze against her. She didn't have to see his face to know what he was thinking, that he was about to leave her.
"Please, not that," she said, rubbing his chest and neck, "not tonight. We don't have to do that, do we?"
"Dammit!" he swore. "You've got me so turned on I can hardly stand up straight. That's not fair. It's just not fair to leave a guy hanging like that."
Amy didn't want to be the aggressor. She never had been with Burt. The idea of it repulsed her, but the thought that Vincenzo might be outside, waiting in the brushes until Chuck left repulsed her more. In the split second between the time she moved her hand down toward the hard length of Chuck's cock and then actually touched it, she had a flash of blinding, horrible insight. Wasn't
Vincenzo making her do this, too? Driving her to degrade herself with yet another man to keep herself safe from him? Then her hot fingers closed on the heavy knob. She could feel it throbbing through the material of his pants.
"Oh, baby!" he moaned, his hips reflexively hunching, pushing his cock into her grip.
She squeezed the bulb and was stunned when something hot and sticky seeped through the fabric and onto her hand. She didn't want to go on with it. She wanted to run to the bathroom and wash off her hand. But the thought of the demented chauffeur drove her onward.
"That's it! Oh, baby, that's it!" Chuck groaned, tossing his hips in a lewd rolling motion.
Amy rubbed her hand up and down the length of the double knit shrouded cock, trying to keep her fingers away from the sticky seepage at the tip.
"You really know how to do it, don't you?" he said, his voice thick with lust.
In the dark, Amy's face burned with shame. Over and over she told herself, he had to stay, to protect her.
"Here, wait," he said, unzipping his fly and pulling his rock hard cock out. He wrapped her fingers around the neck of his penis, just below the flaring rim. "Isn't that better, now?"
She didn't answer. If she had, she would've told him the truth. That the feel of his sweaty penis and the slimy fluid oozing from its tip and all down over the shaft made her want to throw up.
"Go for it, baby," he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and leaning against her.
Amy began to pump the long rod between her hands, squeezing it hard, making the loose outer sheath of skin twist and turn over the solid inner bone. She knew what he thought of her, what he had to think of her, that she was nothing but a horny divorcee, an easy lay, after all. She wished to God that she'd told him the truth right at the start, instead of going through this disgusting game. His disbelief or revulsion at her story of forced sex and slavery could not possibly have hurt her more than what was happening now. She liked Chuck and she'd wanted to win his respect. That was all over now.
"Why don't we sit on the couch?" he said, taking her face in his hands and pushing down, making her mouth touch the moist end of his cock. "You know...."
The sticky stuff smeared over her lips and she had to bite her tongue to keep from crying aloud. He held her mouth tight to the head of his cock and she continued to pump on the shaft, to pump up more and more of the milky seminal fluid which billowed over her tightly closed lips and ran down her chin.
He let go of her head and pulled her to the couch, sitting down and pulling her down beside him. "Here you go, baby," he said, thickly, shoving her face into his lap. "Go to town."
He said it as if he were offering her some kind, of special treat. Amy shuddered, taking the broad root in her fist and pumping it furiously, trying to bring him off without taking his cock into her mouth.
"Hey, no. Not that way," he said, stopping her frantically jerking fist. "Do it right."
He caught her by the hair and used it as a handle to force her lips onto his cock, which stuck straight up in his lap like a flagpole.
She whimpered as he dragged her mouth up and down the slimy underside of his penis, shoving her lips all the way down onto the pebbly, chicken skin of his scrotum, then pulling them all the way up to the broad, smooth bulb. He masturbated himself with her face like that until she thought she was going to scream. Then he let go.
"Suck me," he said, wheezing. "Finish it."
In the dim light, she could see his arching cock thumping up against his stomach, gleaming with seminal ooze. She didn't want her mouth filled with his milky stuff. She didn't want to be choked by the heavy spurts as they spattered against the back of her throat. She didn't want to be the thing, the receptacle for his glandular garbage.
"Finish it!" he growled, impatiently.
His grating, demanding tone caught her off guard; it threw the neural switch that Vincenzo had spent so much time constructing. Amy had her order and she was conditioned to expect pain if she did not obey and quickly. She thrust her open mouth down on the slippery knob, taking it into her mouth, twisting her head so the heavy cap rubbed over the slick flesh inside her cheeks, over the surface of her tongue. The sharp, biting flavor of his juices rasped her taste buds, causing her mouth to fill with hot saliva.
"Suck, baby, suck," he crooned, taking hold of her ears, making her bob her head.
As her cruelly stretched lips popped back and forth over his cock's thick rim, she did, indeed, begin to suck. With her tongue pressed tight against his nerve bundle, she sucked, sucked until her cheeks went concave, sucked until the flow of his semen was nonstop, until it flowed in a steady river into her mouth and down her throat.
He moved her head faster, forcing her mouth down lower over his shaft, jamming the head of his cock against the back of her throat. Amy whined at the horrible, stinging impacts, but if anything, her shrill protests only increased his excitement. He twisted her head to one side, adjusting her neck by trial and error, until he could ram the massive bulb over the back of her tongue, deep into the slick tightness of her throat.
Amy could not do anything. She was terrified. The huge blood thickened rod surged down her gullet, strangling her with its girth, stretching the walls of her throat, forcing her jaws to open to a point near dislocation. The pain was absolutely unreal and in the back of her mind, she knew that the awful, sticky, warm deluge was soon forthcoming.
She could not have guessed how soon! As her lips, stretched to a thin, bloodless line, slipped down to the base of the hulking cock, the whole length of it flexed, jerking against the inside of her throat. The sudden hurt made Amy see stars.
"Mother-fuck!" Chuck howled, releasing her ears as joy exploded in his balls, as his penis spasmed in climax.
As soon as those fingers left her ears, Amy disgorged the monstrous cock, gagging as it pulsed between her slobbery lips. She twisted her lips off the great, glistening knob just as the first spurt of sperm spat forth.
"Uhhhhhh!! ! " she moaned, as a searing strand of cum flopped over the side of her face, running in a gooey trail from the bridge of her nose to her ear.
"Hey!" Chuck exclaimed, furious at the sight of his semen going to waste. He caught her face and twisted it within range of the jerking cock.
"UHHHHH!! ! " Amy whined, as the awful, ropy spurts spattered against her lips, her nose, her chin, her cheeks. She kept her lips tightly closed and her face twisted up in a horrible grimace as Chuck bathed her with his juices.
When he was finished, he shoved her away from him and stuffed his cock back in his pants. You are a no good bitch, Amy," he snarled, getting up. "A no good, cock teasing bitch. I hope I never see you again."
Amy was up like a shot, tears streaming down her face, mixing with the creamy residue of his orgasm. "No, please! Please don't go!" she wailed.
But Chuck was already unlocking the door, already stepping out of her life. She rushed after him in a blind panic, out onto the concrete ribbon in front of her building.
"I'm sorry!" she called to his back.
Then a huge, rough hand clamped over her mouth and another grabbed her waist.
"You're going to be sorrier, whore!" Vincenzo hissed into her ear.
CHAPTER FIVE
Amy was absolutely numb with fear. She could've struggled; she could've perhaps gotten her mouth free from his smothering grip and screamed, hoping that it would draw the attention of her neighbors. But she did nothing, made no defense, put up no fight. She clung meekly to Vincenzo's powerful arm, as he half-dragged her to the waiting limousine. With his free hand he opened the front door, then shoved her onto the seat like a sack of soiled laundry.
"Don't move a muscle," he warned her as he closed the door.
Amy lay on the seat, trembling, while he rounded the car and got in from the driver's side.
He slammed the door and turned on the ignition, revving up the big engine, then throwing it into gear. He peeled away from the curb, with such speed that Amy was thrust back against the seat. He didn't say a word to her until they were on the expressway headed towards Windsor Park.
"You really got a licking coming, you know that, don't you, whore?" he said, with obvious relish.
Amy didn't answer, but pressed her face into the glove leather upholstery, trying to disappear.
"I told you that you're my property now, didn't I?" he said, reaching over and untying the belt to her robe. "I said I didn't want you messing around with any other guys, unless I told you to."
Amy lay huddled on the seat, listening to every word, realizing to her horror that once again she was in the power of this depraved maniac, that she would have to do his bidding or suffer the consequences.
"I never should've let you go so soon," he said, ruefully. "I like to have a whore cum a few times before I let her go. You didn't cum, did you?"
He pulled at the collar of her robe, jerking it down over her smooth, white shoulder.
"I'll bet you've never cum," he said, rubbing the back of her neck in a rough caress. "Have you?"
Amy gasped as the iron fingers closed around her throat. When she tore at them with her own, the grip tightened. She stopped struggling; the fingers relaxed.
"No," she whispered, shamed and humiliated by the admission forced from her by this beast.
"Well fix that, don't worry, whore," he promised her. "Once I get you cumming, I'm not going to let you stop, either. I know how to make it go on and on. And when I get tired, I'll throw an open house and let you fuck whoever comes to the door."
Amy moaned softly. She knew it was true, knew he was capable of anything, any depravity. In her mind, she could see him standing beside the bed where he'd tied her spread-eagled, watching gleefully as a whole row of strange men, one after another, mounted her and fucked her until they climaxed. He would undoubtedly urge them on.
"I should never have let you go," he repeated. "I had the hots again right after I finished with Connie. I got the hots right now..."
Amy whined piteously as he grabbed her head by the hair and lifted it from the seat. It felt like he was going to rip her scalp off.
"Take off that robe," he ordered.
Even as he spoke, a huge diesel truck pulled up in the lane opposite. The driver looked down at Amy and smiled.
"B-but ... " she said, pointing weakly at the grinning observer.
Vincenzo ducked his head down so he could see what she was pointing at, then he straightened up. "So fucking what?" he said. "Take it off. Give the jerk a real show."
Amy's face burned with embarrassment. It was one thing to be humiliated in private, but this public degradation was too much.
"DO IT!" he bellowed, his face wild with rage. "And if you don't show him everything, I'm going to stop the car and beat you silly."
She slipped out of the robe, tears streaming down her face. The truck beside them swerved crazily as its driver got a look at the lovely naked woman in the front seat.
"Turn towards him, look at him," the chauffeur said.
She obeyed. The trucker driver's face was split by a lewd smirk. As his eyes flicked over her bare breasts, he licked his lips hungrily. Amy felt like an animal, a caged animal on display.
"Show him all of it, whore!"
Amy's gaze jerked back to Vincenzo's face, pleading with him. Pleading did no good.
"On your back and spread 'em!" he commanded. "Throw one leg over the back of the seat and put the other up on the dash. Let him see every hair on your tight little cunt."
The woman did as she was told, moving stiffly, slowly. She hooked her right leg over the seat and put her left foot on top of the dash, so that her entire crotch was visible to the driver of the truck.
Again the diesel swerved, nearly sideswiping the limo.
"You've got that jerk so hot for it, he can't even stay in his own fucking lane!" Vincenzo laughed. Then, in a hushed, almost conspiratorial tone, he said, "Would you like to give it to him, baby? What say I pull over and we let him take a little ride?"
Amy knew it was in his power to do just that. "If you like..." she said, flatly.
Again the chauffeur laughed. "That's good, real good," he said. "You're learning, not fast, but you're learning."
Alongside them, the truck driver blew his air horn.
"Ha! The jerk wants more of a show!" Vincenzo said. "Let's give him one he won't ever forget. Start playing with yourself."
Amy stiffened.
"Dammit, put your fucking hand on your pussy or I'm gonna shove your whole arm up your fucking cunt!"
Her fingers slipped down over the curve of her hip, creeping down over the soft whiteness of her tummy, and into the sparse fan of hairs atop her mound.
"That's it, get down in there," he told her. "Get those fingers wet."
Amy touched her labia, stroking them gently, working her fingertips down over their tapering length, down to the entrance to her vagina. To her dismay, a ripple of delicious sensation burst over her outflung crotch. She tried desperately to cut off the feeling, biting the tip of her tongue, stopping the stroking motion of her fingers.
"Put 'em in!" Vincenzo said. "Stick 'em way in there and go to town. I want to see you work out. I want to see that ass moving!"
She inserted a finger into the mouth of her pussy, groaning to herself at the copious moisture she found there. She was sopping wet and her labia came apart easily, smooch-up over the knuckle of her digit. At Vincenzo's command, she slipped a second finger in beside the first and began to push them in and out, rubbing them over the walls of her cunt, over the febrile nubbin of her clit.
"Is it getting good?" he asked, leering at the shining, thrusting fingers.
"Uhhh!" Amy groaned. It was getting good. Her fingers kept scraping over her thrill center, kept sending marvelous surges of tickling energy up over her tummy. She loathed herself for the pleasure she felt at her own degradation, but she could not make her fingers stop dipping into her juicy slit.
"OK, now hold the fingers still and fuck..." he said, reaching over to the instrument panel.
Amy's sleek buttocks began to flip up from the smooth leather seat, forcing her pussy to swallow the stationary fingers. Her labia clasped them hungrily, the pink lips clinging to their glistening surface as they slipped back.
"Showtime!" Vincenzo said, merrily, flipping on the dome lights.
Amy froze. In the harsh white light, the driver could see everything, not just the wet fingers, half swallowed by her pussy, but the expression on her face, the hunger to climax.
"GO!" the chauffeur howled, slamming his fist down on the seat for emphasis.
Amy went, all right. Her bottom snapped up from the seat and slammed into her hand.
"Uhh! Uhh! Uhh!" she puffed, whipping her cunt back and forth over her fingers, gyrating her ass in salacious circles that made the sides of her digits rub over her creamy pussy walls.
Vincenzo only let her go for a minute or so before he snapped off the light. "Enough!" he said, slamming the gas pedal to the floorboards, leaving the truck behind.
Amy lay back on the seat and panted, her sticky hand laying close to her cunt, on the inside of her thigh.
"Get you hand away from there!" he told her. "You don't touch that thing unless I tell you, understand?"
Amy licked her dry lips. She was a living puppet, his puppet, not by choice, but by the power of his will, the strength of his body, by his ability to terrify and dominate her. There seemed to be no end to his perverse imagination, either.
Each task he required of her was more disgusting, more degrading than the last.-It wasn't bad enough that he forced her to expose herself to a stranger, that he demanded that she masturbate for the stranger's amusement, but he could make her stop, shut her off cold, at his whim, and leave her hanging, panting, as she was now.
"You almost got over, didn't you, whore?" he said, chuckling. "You get a kick out of showing it, damn if you don't. But we can't have you cumming around those fingers of yours. Nope. This is the only thing my little whore cums around." He patted the bulge in the front of his trousers.
That seemed to give him an idea.
"Look over her," he told her as he undid his fly.
Amy slowly rolled to her side, with her back against the seat, and watched dutifully as he pulled out his half erect penis. Just the sight of that hideous engine made Amy's belly quake.
He drove with one hand and masturbated with the other, slogging his rubbery cock through his fist, pumping vigorously, making the spineless thing slap against the sides of his hand.
As Amy looked on, the penis grew stiff, curving through the ring of his clenched fist like an enraged banana. Then he let go of it. The thing snapped up and slapped against his chest with a heavy thump!
"Come over here," he said, patting his thigh. "Come over and give me a blow job."
Amy came, crawling across the seat on all fours, crawling like some small, spineless, pedigreed pet. She hated him. She hated the horrid purple snout of his cock, which was always wet, always dripping white semen, hated the thick, pain-bringing shaft, hated the sour sweat smell of his balls, hated the sudden choking rush of slobber that filled her mouth as she lowered her head in his lap.
Amy, who had once been a person, but who was fast becoming something less, took hold of the thick root of the chauffeur's cock and squeezed it. It was like an iron bar and blazing hot and as she applied pressure to it, it responded, almost like a separate entity, throbbing, pushing outward against her grip.
"That's it. Treat my cock right," Vincenzo said, patting the back of her head as one might stroke a favorite cocker spaniel.
The gentleness of his touch startled her, confused her. She was glad that she was pleasing him, grateful that the hand was caressing and not hurting, but there was something else, too, something shocking, mind-racking in its implication. His sudden change in treatment of her stirred feelings within her that she never considered she might have towards him. That he might have some small affection for her offered the same possibility to her. The prospect did not repulse her, quite the opposite, it filled her with a sense of optimism, despite her rather gruesome predicament. Perhaps she was grasping at straws, but there was nothing else to cling to.
She bent the straining shaft down from his chest and pressed her open mouth to his bulb, sucking up the rank seepage, shutting off her revulsion. Without prompting, she sucked the immense cap into her mouth. It filled her face from cheek to cheek, pressing down on her tongue and upwards against the roof of her mouth. The sour, musty flavor of his meat rasped over her taste buds. It was underpinned by something else, a smell more than a taste, a nasty, musky smell. She moaned plaintively as she remembered where the cock in her mouth had last been, but she did not attempt to remove it. Vincenzo knew where it'd been, too, and if he wanted her to have it that way, then have it she would. She opened her mouth wider and a rush of hot slobber slipped from her lips, cascading down the hard shaft.
"Mrararamm," he sighed, stroking her bare back.
A tremor of ecstasy shot up her spine as his fingers gropped her buttocks, feeling down in the steamy crack. Whining through her nose, she swallowed more cock, pushing the heavy knob end into the back of her throat. Already, her jaws were beginning to ache and her throat seemed to tremble in anticipation of the tremendous organ it was about to accept. The toying fingers, gently toying fingers, teasing the damp mouth of her pussy, urged her on, coaxed her to take more, more.
Amy twisted her head to the side, so that the curve of his cock would follow the curve of her throat. Then gripping the hairy base with both hands, she drove the horrendous tool over the back of her tongue and down into her screaming throat. It felt like the seams of her gullet were about to split, but she pushed on, her tightly compressed lisp squirming down over the gross root. She took him all in, every monstrous inch, and held him in her throat, despite the agonizing pain, the danger of strangulation, she held him there and fondled his heavy, sperm-bloated balls, rubbing her fingers over the coarse hairs, squeezing them with a gentle but firm touch.
"Hot li'l whore," he murmured, pushing his index finger into her anus.
Amy did not fight the burning penetration, did not try to hold out the thick finger. Instead, she relaxed and let it happen, let him shove it all the way up her ass. She held her sphincter flaccid and lose as he began to push the probe in and out, to diddle her with a wild, corkscrewing motion. It did not feel good to her. His calloused finger rasped over her tender innards, her rapidly fluttering pore. It was a degrading violation, but she would keep on trying to please him, accepting whatever horrible act he performed or asked her to perform, in the hope that somehow it would make things better for her.
She began to disgorge the massive cock, to allow it to slip from between her lips. The sensation of relief as the pressure on her throat eased was unbelievable. She got her mouth halfway up the shaft, when he grunted and gently pushed down on her head. If he wanted more, he would have more, she thought, dreading the agony, but steeling herself against it, driving her lips back down. With her mouth pressed against the saliva-matted hair at the base of his cock, she started to raise and lower her head, driving her lips up and down the lower two inches of his shaft, forcing the rest of his meat to slide through the quivering embrace of her moist throat.
"Keep it up," that's good!" he croaked, his hips ticking slightly into her thrusts.
Tears sprang from Amy's eyes as those small ticks sent his meat slipping even deeper in her gullet, forcing her lips to part to the splitting point. The hurt was indescribable, but she took it, as she took the rapid darting thrusts of his finger deep in her ass.
Every thrust of his cock was just a bit harder until she couldn't bear the pain, until his pubic was bashing into her teeth, his buttocks snapping up from the seat to plunge his meat in her throat to the hairs. She raised her head slightly and stopped moving up and down, letting him use her throat any way he wanted, and sucking, sucking as hard as she could on the pistoning shaft. "Uhhhff! Uhhff!" he grunted, fucking her throat with complete abandon, churning his hips, screwing her at blinding speed. "Your ass!" he croaked. "Move it! Move it!"
The sucking, weeping girl obeyed, grinding her buttocks back into his jabbing finger, thrusting her rectum down over its vibrating length.
As both of her orifices were disgracefully abused, painfully pounded, she told herself that it didn't matter, that nothing mattered but his pleasure, that if she could make him happy, he might let her go. She knew that he was going to orgasm very soon. Her mouth was thick with the salty taste of his seminal fluid. She knew that she would have to swallow it, every drop. Somehow, that didn't bother her. She knew that after it was done he would have to leave her alone for a little while, if only to gather his strength.
Then, Vincenzo made a soft groaning noise. Between her raped lips, the great cock quivered. The chauffeur jerked suddenly, slamming his foot down on the gas pedal, snapping his hips violently, cramming the full length of his cock deep into her gasping throat. As she fought for breath, the bulging rod erupted in the warm wet interior of her ovaled lips, hot hot thick sperm squirting into her mouth in raging gusts. The engine howled and there was a sickening sensation of speed as more and more of the viscous, cream-like fluid pulsed into her mouth. She swallowed and sucked, sucked and swallowed, her cheeks inflating and deflating as she fought to rid herself of the choking deluge of sperm. Amy had lost all sense of time, her mind racked by the endless gulping, the unstoppable tide of pungent fluid, when at last his cock jerked a final jerk and began to soften beneath her swirling tongue.
A moment later, his deflated cock slipped wetly from her lips and his hand pulled her head limply forward to lie trapped against the whole of his trembling loins. Vincenzo took his foot from the gas pedal and the heavy car slowed. They rested like that for a long moment, the woman captive seemingly content with her face pressed up against his flaccid cock and sagging balls. She had pleased him; she knew it. When his hand dropped once again to her hair, she closed her eyes and a serene look crossed her face.
"You did that just fine," he said, stroking her. "I think you're coming along better all the time. I may be able to sell you sooner than I thought...."
CHAPTER SIX
All the way back to Windsor Park, Amy lay curled up on the seat with her face against his cock. She didn't have the nerve to pipe up and ask him what he meant by "selling" her. Perhaps, because she was afraid that any direct question concerning her fate might provoke another lashing with his belt; or perhaps because she was afraid of the answer. She wished she could shrink up to the size of a flea and disappear in his pubic hair, anything to avoid facing what she had just done. She'd thought that by going along with his whims, by pleasing him, she might be able to stimulate some kind of affection between them, and thereby "earn" her freedom. How stupid could she be?! All he cared about was that she submitted to his debased excesses without a struggle! By willingly giving him her lips, her anus, she had only convinced him that she'd finally "come around," that her personality was so shattered by his domination that she would do anything he asked without question. By giving in, she'd humiliated and degraded herself, rather than being degraded by another; by giving in, she'd consigned herself to perhaps a much more unpleasant fate.
Vincenzo turned the limousine into the Mueller driveway and parked in front of the house. Almost immediately, the front door opened and Consuela came out, opening the passenger door and helping Amy out.
The nude girl was quickly ushered into the front of the mansion. The chauffeur and maid took her through several rooms before stopping in the hallway. Had Amy visited the place under different circumstances, she would've found much there to interest her, as the place was full of antiques, art and curiosities. But all things as they were, the best she could do was shiver and keep her eyes on the floor.
"Why is she shaking like that?" Consuela said, eyeing the trembling woman with concern. "Is she cold?"
Vincenzo laughed. "No, she's hot. One hot little whore. I must've fed her a quart of cum on the way over here."
"Let me get something to throw around her," the maid said, turning away.
"Bring some rope, too, while you're at it," the man said to her back.
Amy glanced up at Vincenzo, her eyes huge with fear.
"Easy, baby," he said, pulling her up against him, slipping his hands down to cup her buttocks. "Everything's gonna work out fine. I wasn't sure at first, but now I know it is."
Amy buried her face in his chest.
"Nice little ass," he said, fondling her cheeks, spreading them gingerly. He rubbed his fingertips down the middle of her crack, over the hot bud of her rectum, over the soft spongy mouth of her cunt. With careless ease, he parted her slit and pushed his finger inside, twisting it, turning it, straining to touch her clit.
"Uhh!" Amy whined as the thick probe flicked her clit, as a crackling thrill arced up her spine. Her hips bucked lewdly, with a will of their own, forcing her pussy down over the digit to the knuckle, then back, leaving behind a sticky trail of fragrant juice.
"Better and better," he said, removing his finger. "I'm going to make you cum, just like I promised. Cum and cum until your brain goes to jelly, until you'll fuck a dam sheep if I put one between your legs."
"Here's the rope," Consuela said, handing it to him. She threw a blanket over Amy's shoulders.
"I take it he isn't back yet?" Vincenzo said.
"No, not 'til later. The flight was delayed," the maid said.
He looked at the cowering woman and smiled. "I think this one's ready to go tonight, if he's interested."
"He always-likes to sample the merchandise, anyway," Consuela said.
Vincenzo nodded. "It probably would do this one some good, too. A little round robin would just about seal her case."
"What're you going to do with her until he comes?"
"Hell, I wouldn't mind ripping off another piece..." he said, " ... but it might spoil things for later. I guess I'll just tie her up and stick her somewhere for now."
With that, the chauffeur took the blanket from Amy's shoulders and turned her around facing the wall.
"She sure has a sweet little cunt," Consuela said, appreciatively, peering down between Amy's buttocks.
"Hey! You stay away, understand?" Vincenzo said. "I don't want anything messing up this one. None of that lezzy stuff before he gets a hold of her. After you get done sucking on a nice, fresh pussy it's so loose that even an elephant couldn't feel the walls."
"I do make 'em cum," she said, beaming.
"Right, only not this one. Got it?"
Consuela nodded, gazing wistfully at the fine sprig of reddish hair protruding from between Amy's buttocks.
Vincenzo grabbed Amy's arms and pulled them behind her back, tying them together with the rope. Then he bent down and did the same to her ankles. When he was done, he examined his handiwork.
"She can still hop away," he said, shaking his head. "This whore is worth too much to let her slip off into the night." He took a short length of rope and tied a slip knot in it, then put the impromptu noose over Amy's head. "OK, down on your ass," he said.
When Amy complied, he attached the free end of the noose to the rope about her ankles, cinching it down so she was forced to remain in a curled up position.
"That's better," he said, bending down and scooping her up like a rag doll.
Amy leaned against his chest as he carried her down the hall. The bonds hurt her wrists and ankles, cutting into the flesh, but she was oblivious. Her mind had fogged over, refusing to accept her present plight, refusing to hear the conversation between the maid and the chauffeur that clearly had to do with the disposal of her body. She didn't want to know her fate; she wanted to retreat beyond the reach of pain, of humiliation, degradation.
Vincenzo opened a closet and Consuela put the blanket down on the floor.
"Everything's going to be fine," he told the whispering Amy as he deposited her on the blanket.
Then he closed the door and the lights went out.
There, in the dark, tied hand and foot, Amy had a golden opportunity to do some serious soul searching, but she could not.. or would not ... avail herself of it. She steadfastly refused to consider her motivations, her responsibility in the situation any further. Perhaps she was right. It was clear that Vincenzo planned to get rid of her very soon, even tonight, so what good would it serve to continue to prod and poke at her mental wounds ... especially when she might have a brand-new set to deal with before morning. The only thing her mind would agree to ponder was the identity of the mysterious "he" in their conversation. "He," she reasoned, was most likely Hen-Mueller, himself, the owner of the mansion. There was no doubt in her mind what the man looked like. Despite her dazed state of mind when she was taken through the house, she could not have failed to see the great, life-size portrait of him in the foyer. She made a small, mewling sound as she reconstructed the man's face in her mind, the massive brows, the tiny blue eyes glinting from beneath them, the heavy, square jaw, the tree trunk of a neck. There was something oppressive about the face, more than just the sum of the features, something about it that said greed, gluttony, excess. He was a huge man, too, both tall and broad across. To Amy, who knew little of such things, he looked like a football player, a lineman gone to seed, the awesome power of his chest and arms, the muscular development having slipped slightly due to age and lack of use so that his broadest point around was no longer his chest but his abdomen. No lineman, no matter how highly paid, however, could've accumulated the amount of wealth evident in the mansion. Herr Mueller obviously had more than physical power, even psychic power; he seemed filthy rich.
Amy didn't exactly know what the "round robin" that Vincenzo mentioned was, but she had a pretty good idea. She could see herself spitted, impaled, ripped apart on insolent, mindless length of blood-thickened penis. What had she done?! ! What horrible crime, against Nature, against humanity, to deserve such abominations?! ! She had never done anything to anyone! She made a soft keening sound and rocked back and forth on the floor, mourning her own fate. It was a million times worse because it made no sense ... except to gratify some hyper-glandular male's ego, to glorify his skill with battering cock, with probing finger. She had done nothing, hurt no one, but they were going to destroy her, she knew that. They were going to rape and degrade her until she really did give in, until her mind snapped, until she became a smooth little sexual puppet to dance at their whim. They were going to do all that to her and there was nothing she could do about it.
Not so! she thought. She could cheat them!
Amy straightened her knees and leaned back at the same time. The slip knot tightened about her throat, cutting into the flesh, shutting off her wind. She strained at the rope, her head filling with blood, blood under tremendous pressure. It felt like her eyeballs were going to pop from their sockets. It was only when she tried to inhale that she realized that she had accomplished what she'd set out to do. Nothing, not a wisp of air could pass through her horribly constricted throat. The heat from the trapped blood in her head was awful, but worse was the burning sensation in her lungs. Her body clamored for mercy, for air, her chest heaving, lungs trying frantically to suck air through the impossible passage. Amy welcomed the pain this time. It was pain that would end all other pain and it was pain that she felt she deserved for allowing her own humiliation to go on this long. Only when her vision began to blur, to darken around the edges, to tunnel in, did she fully realize that her end was in sight. The black tunnel closed in on her until she could only see a small circle of light way off in the distance and then she seemed to float free of the trembling, strangling body, to hover overhead. Her spirit looked down on the poor dying Amy. It was a pitiful sight: the lovely naked woman's face all distorted by pain and the hideous noose which had almost disappeared into the soft skin of her throat.
"Easy," she told herself, unconsciously mimicking the words of her tormentor. "It's going to be all right."
Then the closet door opened.
"Dammit!" Consuela swore, quickly reaching down and removing the choking cord.
Amy gasped for breath, her eyes terribly bloodshot and streaming tears.
"What in the world got into you?! the maid said, leaning down and taking the still-purple face between her hands. "Are you craay?! "
"Y-y-you're driving me c-c-crazy!" Amy bawled.
Consuela's face hardened. She let go of the weeping woman's head and smashed her open hand against the unprotected cheek.
"UHHH!" Amy cried, her eyes huge with terror. The pain, the pain was starting again.
"Idiot!" the maid hissed, smacking her again and again, making her head snap back and forth from the force of the blows. When she finally stopped, the helpless victim uttered no sound and her eyes were distant and glassy.
"Can you hear me?! " Consuela demanded, shaking Amy by the shoulders.
Amy's only response was a minute nodding of her head. To her, the horrible woman, the closet, the hurt was a million miles away.
"Then listen, and listen good," Consuela said. "Don't ever make that mistake again. Don't ever speak up for yourself or complain. If Vincenzo had heard you, he would've flayed you alive with his belt. He would have whipped you to death, do you understand?"
Amy nodded, dully.
"I don't know why he thinks you've come along as far as he does ... you still seem to have some spirit left to me ... but that doesn't make any difference now. The point is, he thinks you are ready. If you disappoint him, he will kill you, most unpleasantly; it is as simple as that. So, whether you are ready of not, if you want to stay alive, you must pretend to be ready and do everything he asks without question and as quickly as possible."
Amy knew she was totally defeated. She knew they'd never give her another chance at suicide. She could, of course, defy Vincenzo ... she shivered at the mere thought ... but she knew that it would give him great satisfaction to lash her to death and she didn't want to die just to provide the animal a cheap orgasmic thrill. It was horrible enough that she had to live to do that. Everything Consuela was telling her was true, even in her dazed, fragmented state, she recognized that. To survive, she would have to continue to play the part of the docile slave.
"And, most important," the maid went on, "you must enjoy what he tells you to do."
Amy blinked.
"That's right. Whether you are faking it or not, you must convince him that you are reveling in the acts he forces you to perform. And when he tells you that it is time to orgasm, you must orgasm, orgasm like you never have before or you will be very, very sorry. Do you understand that?"
Amy understood. She knew all about faking orgasms. When she and Burt were first married, she really worked at convincing him that he was making her climax, but when it was clear that her orgasms, or pseudo-orgasms, only made him more excited, made him want to mount her a second or third time, she put an end to the act. She'd just lay there with her legs apart and let him rut about in her pussy until he finished; she wouldn't even bat an eyelash. Burt didn't seem to mind much, didn't care one way or another whether or not she had any fun, especially towards the end of their relationship. But in the beginning, she'd fooled him, she knew she had. Those shrill cries bubbling from her lips, the rapid rolling her hips to meet the bone-jarring thrusts of his lust-filled cock, the digging of her nails into his bare buttocks, all convinced him that she was in seventh heaven. She knew in her heart that she'd have to do a lot more to fool Vincenzo, a man with so much more experience than Burt, a man who knew what to expect.
"I wonder if you do?" the maid said, her dark eyes dropping from Amy's tear-stained face to her pert breasts, all pushed together by the pressure of her bound arms ... so that there was cleavage between them from nipple to chest.
Amy felt the woman's gaze move lower, down over her belly and between her legs. The look on Consuela's face as she leered at the fine red fur, the pink petals, told Amy that another ordeal was about to begin.
The maid gently but firmly pushed the helpless woman over onto her side on the blanket with her back facing her.
"You have such lovely skin," Consuela cooed, stroking Amy's silky back.
The touch was so light and feathery that Amy could not help but squirm under it. The maid laughed and continued to tickle her, to tease her long fingernails over the sensitive skin beneath her armpits, over the base of her supple breast, down along her side to the curve of her hip.
The tickling sent shivers racing all over Amy's body. She bit the tip of her tongue to keep from crying out at the maddening feeling.
"You like to be touched, I can tell," the maid said, her fingers creeping down over the dome of
Amy's buttock, inching towards the tuft of red hair sprouting at their base. "And I like to touch you."
Amy bit her tongue so hard that her mouth filled with the taste of blood, hot, metallic. She dared not move, not squirm to evade the finger that dipped into her crack, pushing against the moist mouth of her pussy.
"Oooh, you do like it, don't you?! " Consuela said in delight, feeling the wet petals, the thick seepage of Amy's cunt with her probing finger. She deftly inserted her digit into the quivering orifice and wriggled it, making it slowly squirm up into the slick channel.
Did she like it? Did Amy like it?! Even she couldn't answer that question. It was not a thing to like; it was not even a thing to dislike anymore. It was just an experience.
"Pretty soon," Consuela said, her voice thick with emotion, "pretty soon, you'll be wet like this all the time. I know it doesn't sound right, but it is. I'm that way, now. He makes you that way, so you're ready all the time. You're ready now, aren't you?"
It was not a question that Amy intended to answer. She didn't even consider responding. But the maid had other ideas: she scratched Amy's clit with her nail.
"AHH!" Amy cried, her whole body jerking violently as the explosion of delight lanced through her pussy.
"That's it," Consuela crooned. "Show me, show me." She touched the thrill center again.
"OHHHH!! " Amy wailed, unable to keep her hips from bucking back obscenely into the probing finger.
"Show me, baby, show me." The buried finger flicked again and again, forcing a series of horrible, baleful cries from Amy's lips, making her smooth, supple buttocks flip anxiously ... a gesture that practically begged for more flicks, more intimate caresses.
Amy tried to retreat, to crawl back down in the hole of her mind, but she could not. The sensation of pleasure billowed in her loins, lapping up at her tummy, washing over her breasts in delicious waves. She had lost control of her own body!
"Here, baby, here," the maid said, hoarsely, pushing at Amy's legs, making her bend her knees up to her breasts so that her entire pudenda was sandwiched between her out-thrust buttocks, so that the fat pink mound protruded from between the smooth white buns.
Amy moaned as the woman pressed her lips to the back of her ass, kissing her way down over the silky domes, down into the tightly compressed crack.
"Oh, yes, yes," Consuela said, thickly, putting her thumbs to the clamped cheeks, parting them so that all of Amy's crotch was exposed, from the tight, winking ring of her rectum to the glistening flanges of her pink cunt. Then, once again, she dropped her mouth.
"UHHH!! ! " Amy howled, as the mouth, the hot, moist mouth fell on her anus, the smooth lips sucking, the blazing, pebbly tongue licking, swirling over the tender flesh, pushing at the tightly closed entrance.
"Give it to me!" Consuela ordered, gasping from her own terrible heat.
Amy cringed. And when the mouth dropped again, when the sucking resumed, the tongue started jabbing, she forced her anus to relax.
"Nuhhhhh!" Consuela groaned, in demented animal ecstasy, as the tiny ring opened, like the bud of a baby rose, to admit her slathering tool. Gripping the trembling buttocks in both hands, she jammed her tongue deep in the super-heated tube, sweeping it round and round over the rubbery flesh of Amy's rectum.
"OH! OH!! " Amy exclaimed, her eyes popping wide open, as the slippery instrument buried itself in her ass. The sensation was devastating! It did not rack her body with pain as when one or the other of her tormentors had penetrated her with their fingers; it did not burn or rasp. It pushed in with incredible ease and as it flapped about within her, darting through the fluttering grip of her sphincter, a bonfire burst into life in her pussy, a raging holocaust of pleasure.
"Nufff! Nufff!" the maid puffed, bobbing her head, driving her stiffened tongue in and out of Amy's rectum.
Amy's anus did not burn from the obscene contact, but her face did. That the lewd act was giving her any kind of good feeling at all was horribly shameful, that it was pushing her inexorably, thrust by thrust, closer to the brink of climax made her want to die again.
Finally, the maid withdrew from the velvety ring. She paused to stare at it, to admire her handiwork. Gleaming with saliva, it visibly squirmed and flexed, trying to squeeze the tongue that was no longer there.
"Ooh, baby, you are really hot," Consuela said, pushing a finger into her anus with no effort, watching as the wrinkly pore tugged rhythmically at her knuckle. She thrust the digit in and out vigorously, delighting in the way it clung to her finger on the backthrusts, sucking its way down the stiffened length.
Amy could feel the finger flicking in and out, pushing into her ass like a tiny cock, and every time the maid's knuckle jammed against the overstuffed ring, the impact set off dynamite in her cunt.
"Yes, it's getting so loose!" the maid cried. "I think you could take another..."
Before Amy could even blink, Consuela was cramming a second finger in beside the first, then working them in unison, fucking her ass with long, probing strokes.
It hurt! It hurt like nothing else! It felt like her entire backside was being worn apart by the wild pistoning fingers. The pain howled in her brain and she could not make it stop, she could not move to defend herself from the horrible stretching, ripping penetration.
"That's it, let your ass suck it!" Consuela wheezed, holding her fingers buried to the knuckles in Amy's battered anus. Reflexively, in and effort to force the impossible burden out, the pink sphincter squeezed and squirmed about, actually milking, sucking at the base of the paired digits.
Every squeeze, every spasm brought a fresh dagger of agony to Amy's backside. All the pleasure was gone, buried under the terrible weight, the avalanche of hurt.
"Oh, baby! Baby!" the maid moaned, her voice suddenly high pitched, frantic. The sight of the poor, tortured anus, the feel of its slithery flesh nursing at her fingers was too much for her. She had to have her release, her satisfaction. She grabbed Amy's bound wrists, forcing her hands into her crotch, pushing her helpless fingers into the sticky mouth of her pussy.
Somewhere, beneath the haze of agony, Amy could feel Consuela's cunt upon her fingers. The meat was blazing hot and covered with slick, viscous fluid. She could feel her fingers being forced into the gaping slit, crammed deep into the churning channel.
"DO ME!" Consuela shouted, gripping Amy's wrists, jamming her fingers in and out of her buttery cunt.
The harsh, grating sound of the order cut through the captive woman's revulsion, through what little will she still possessed. Slowly, tentatively at first, but with rapidly increasing energy, she stuffed her fingers deep into Consuela's vagina, rubbing them over the hot bud of her clit, then jerked them back, dragging them through the slick grip of the spasming orifice. like an automaton, Amy finger-fucked the black-haired woman's pussy, watching through horrified eyes as the gap between the wet petals widened and shrank, as the hot, sputtering cunt yielded to her darting digits.
"YES!-YES!" Consuela cried, her smooth hips flipping, driving into Amy's glistening fingers.
If anything, the fingering of her cunt only made the maid attack Amy's poor rectum with even more savagery. She twisted and turned her fingers as she thrust them, greedily, through the tortured sphincter.
Would the debauchery never end?! ! Amy began to sob brokenly, her raped buttocks quivering under the violent impacts of Consuela's fingers, her own hands bathed in the slippery, nasty fluids of
Consuela's cunt. The answer was: No.
The grunting, groaning maid reached down and fitted Amy's wet thumb to her own anus and flipped her hips. As the other slick digits went back into her hot pussy, the thumb slipped up her ass. Poor Amy was unable to stop moving her hands, thrusting, thrusting, now fucking both ass and pussy, two convulsing orifices swallowing her fingers simultaneously.
"Uhhhhhhngh! Uhhhhghh!" Consuela growled, rolling her buttocks lasciviously as she fucked herself, making Amy's pistoning fingers sweep over the rubbery lining of pussy and pore.
Still it was not enough! The maid dropped her hungry mouth down on the sticky wet entrance to Amy's pussy and her lips parted, her long, hot tongue flicking frantically between them, she began twisting and turning her mouth against the quivering hole, moving her whole head back and forth and round and round in her passion.
Hot tears splashed down Amy's face as the insistent tongue pushed into her vagina, darting over the wrinkly surface of her clit, pushing past it, rasping over it to reach the delicious velvet of her depths. She was being sucked down, drawn into a whirlpool of black muck, from which there was no escape; Her body was no longer her own. The most secret, private recesses of it had been plumbed, probed, pummeled by these awful monsters. They had turned her inside out with their inhuman lusts and hungers; they had worn away, with every passionate, mindless thrust of immense blood-thickened cock, every groping, searching stab of stiffened fingers, every sweep of hungry tongue, the shell of her being, the shell that protects us all from the demands of our surroundings. As the sloppy vagina closed about her fingers, as the anus squashed her thumb, as Consuela whinnied and humped out her endless ecstasy, Amy realized that she was really naked for the first time, her protective sense of self only a dim memory. She was utterly defenseless, unable to block, to filter the inputs of her captors. If they said black was white, to her it would be the unquestioned truth. If they said pain was pleasure, she could not deny it; it would be so.
The maid was still wildly humping, still tonguing, still finger-fucking, still climaxing when the door to the closet opened.
"Damn you, bitch!" Vincenzo bellowed, towering over the intertwined couple.
Consuela came out of her orgasmic stupor instantly. She disengaged from the sobbing girl and peered up at the furious chauffeur.
"You couldn't keep your stinking lezzo hands off her, could you?" he said, his lips white with rage. "You had to go and get that fucking queer tongue of yours up her cunt! You know what's coming, don't you?! You know what you're going to get?! ! "
The maid's tan cheeks took on a blanched hue. She did not answer, did not nod, but only stared, wide eyed, unblinking up at the madman's face.
"Up!" he commanded her, making a lifting motion with his huge hand. "Up, quick! He is here, there is no time to waste."
Consuela came to a full, standing position in front of him. Her lower lip trembled uncontrollably as she watched him pull his heavy belt through the loops.
"Around! Let me see it!" he said.
The maid submissively turned and bent over at the waist.
"Lower!"
Consuela gripped her knees with her hands, pulling her body into a contorted shape. Her full buttocks stuck lewdly up in the air and between them, dripping with hot juice, was the angry maw of her vagina.
Even to the quivering wreck that was Amy Wilkerson, it was obvious what the target of Vincenzo's wrath was going to be. She watched, goggle-eyed, as he raised the hand with the belt. A grim smile twisted his lips ... and the front of his trousers was all pushed away from his crotch by the size of his erection. As the belt descended, hissing through the still air, Amy shut her eyes tight. As the cruel tip exploded against Consuela's tender body, Amy jerked ... and jerked ... and jerked.
CHAPTER SEVEN
When Vincenzo finished with Consuela, he slipped his belt back through the loops and fastened it. Then he bent down and scooped up the naked Amy. Without a look behind him at the shuddering hulk on the floor of the closet, he turned and kicked the closet door closed, locking the door with a flick of his finger.
Amy lay across his arms like a doll, or a little child, with her head resting against his huge, warm chest. Nestled there, she felt safe, protected. If her hands had not been still bound, she would've thrown her arms around the man's neck and buried her face in the hollow of his throat.
Vincenzo carried her through a maze of rooms, all in the Italian style, cool and spacious with high ceilings and tile floors, until he came to a set of double doors, ornately carved, with handles that were the heads of lions done in brass. He set her down on her feet and knocked on one of the doors crisply.
"Come!" said a gruff voice from the other side.
Vincenzo then opened the right hand door and once again scooped up the unresisting Amy to carry her inside.
It was a library of sorts, with rich looking books lining the floor-to-ceiling shelves, a persian carpet on the parquetted floor, some bronze statuary, a large oak desk, and to the left of the desk, a strange looking couch, which was occupied by an immense, naked man. Without asking, Amy knew that the couch was an antique from a psychiatrist's office ... it had no back to it, only an upraised portion at one end for a headrest and it was upholstered in black, diamond-tufted leather ... and that the man was Herr Mueller.
Vincenzo put her down on her feet in front of the seated giant. His small, pig eyes darted over her nude body, pausing at the main points of interest: the stiff, swollen peaks of her breasts, the smooth swell of her tummy as it sloped down into her fine pubic fan, the hint of a hot pink mound between her tightly closed thighs, the silky columns of her legs.
"Why is she bound?" the big man asked, his voice naturally hoarse, as if he were a heavy smoker. "She doesn't look all that dangerous to me...."
"Sorry, sir," the chauffeur said, immediately bending down and untying Amy's ankles. But when he started to undo her wrists from behind her back, the naked man stopped him.
"No, that's enough for now," Herr Mueller said, grinning. He had a huge, ravenous mouth, but his lips were thin and sparse, ribbons of purplish red. Then he rose.
Amy could not help but jerk her eyes down from the great face, down to the monstrous engine that dangled between his hair covered thighs. The sight of that thing made her want to faint. Even in a limp, flaccid state, it was impossibly huge, almost inhuman. And adding to the inhuman appearance was its bizarre shape. Amy, though her experience in such matters was severely limited, instinctively knew that men's penises weren't supposed to look that way. The grotesque length of meat hanging before her was more closely related to the cocks of stallions and bulls than to those of men. For one thing, in its relaxed state, it had no discernible head. The entire tip end was shrouded with a heavy foreskin, a pointed hood of brownish, wrinkled flesh. Behind the sharp nozzle, the skin of his shaft was dark and mottled, covered with pale, bumpy warts, laced with a mass of amazingly thick blue veins, like soda straws, and sprinkled with errant, wildly curling iron gray hairs. The massive organ was surrounded by a crisp shock of hair of the same color. Hanging below it, swinging to his mid-thigh, in a wrinkled, pebbly sack of furious red, were two balls so immense that they made her groan aloud as she took them in. Through the paper thin skin of his bag, she could see the intertwining mass of tubes from which the bloated orbs were suspended, pipelines feeding blood in and semen out and up the hulking shaft.
"Come here!" Herr Mueller said, pointing to the carpet at his feet.
Amy moved, her body responding automatically to the low command. When she was on the spot he'd indicated, he put his massive hands on her slim, white shoulders and began to stroke her skin.
"Nice," he said, appreciatively, his thick fingers pushing into her flesh.
Amy stood there and allowed herself to be touched. The coarse hands caressed her throat, her arms, slipping down over her supple, pear-shaped breasts hungrily, making his fingertips dig into the resilient flesh, making her puckering nipples rub into his hot palms.
Amy shuddered as the grinning man's lingers slid down over her naked belly, down over her soft pubes, and came to rest at the point where her thighs were held tightly closed.
"Open your legs," Herr Mueller said, leering into her face.
As she did so, as the rough fingers pushed down over the tender flesh of her sex, rasping over her velvety labia, Amy realized that her humiliation was not yet complete, that there were miles and miles to go before it was going to end. She stood there, quaking with shame and revulsion, as the man fondled her vagina, teasing the sticky lips apart with a fingertip, peeling them back against her mound so he could look into the hot, creamy flesh of her cunt. She was being treated like some kind of lower animal, a creature to be poked and prodded at will, to be examined with careless, hurting fingers.
Herr Mueller fitted his broad finger to the mouth of her vagina and thrust.
"Uhh!" Amy gasped, biting her lower lip to cut off the cry of agony, as the thick digit jabbed up into her warm, rubbery folds.
"She's not a virgin," Herr Mueller said, giving the chauffeur a sour look, working his finger about inside Amy's channel.
"Not there," Vincenzo said, shrugging.
The horrible finger kept going in and out, in and out, rubbing over her poor clit, making her slick juice seep out and run in hot rivulets down the inside of her thighs. Amy wanted to scream at the vicious, perverted violation, but she knew better.
"Down," Herr Mueller said, pushing on her shoulder with the hand that was not busy, busy in her cunt.
Amy didn't understand the command. She just blinked at the giant. Vincenzo came up behind her and pushed down on her shoulders, forcing her knees to bend, making her assume a lewd, squatting stance before her tormentor.
Herr Mueller removed his finger from her vagina and groped lower, further between her outspread buttocks. Amy jerked like a puppet on a string when his huge, wet fingertip found her anus, when it drove up into the blazing depths of her rectum. The pain was impossible. It was like he'd shoved a red hot poker up her ass. The muscles in her thighs began to quiver and tremble from the terrible strain and she could feel her tortured sphincter gulping, clutching frantically trying to push out the deeply probing finger. Though she fought to control herself, she could not. She began to sob and blubber.
"What?! " the huge man said, continuing to push his finger over the rubbery walls of her rectum, driving it into her to the first joint. He peered closely at the look of anguish on her face, at the tears rolling down her burning cheeks. "You said she was ready..." he said to Vincenzo.
The chauffeur opened and closed his mouth but no sound came forth.
"If she was ready, she'd be enjoying this," Herr
Mueller growled, pushing his digit in and out of her anus. "Damn you, Vincenzo!"
"But, sir, earlier, she ... " the chauffeur babbled at top speed, moving his hands in small, rapid circles.
"I don't care about 'earlier,' you imbecile! When you say you have something for me to examine, it should be ready!"
"I know, I know, sir. And she is ready, really. She's completely broken in, except for there," Vincenzo said, indicating with a nod of his head the finger darting in and out of her rectum. "She'll do anything you ask of her, anything anybody asks of her...."
Herr Mueller shook his massive head. "You should know better, Vincenzo. I think you do know better. The people I deal with aren't interested in flesh and blood robots. She must not only do anything anyone asks of her, she must love it! You thought I might let this one pass because she so ... well, choice. You're too greedy, Vincenzo. I'm going to have to do something about you very soon."
"Sir! Please!"
"Don't grovel, you moron!" he barked. "I have a client coming in tomorrow, a very powerful man in West Africa. He could buy up all the defective tractor parts I have stored in Morocco if everything goes right. He will want his kick back, of course, for having been the middleman between his country and myself, and perhaps a little something extra to sweeten the deal ... " He gave Amy's anus an extra hard thrust, burying his finger in her to the second joint.
"Ohhh!" she wailed, her eyes wide with pain and horror.
"She is ready, sir," Vincenzo said, getting control of himself. "I can promise you that."
Behind her, Amy heard the rasping sound of a belt being pulled through its loops. That rasping cut through the very core of her being; it filled her mind with images of Consuela, Consuela jerking, throwing herself against the closet wall in a futile, pathetic attempt to evade the machine-like strokes of the belt.
"She had better be," he said, removing his finger with a brisk pull. He sat down on the edge of the couch and spread his knees. His huge cock and balls dangled in mid air. "Let's see what she can do..."
Amy looked back over her shoulder at Vincenzo, her eyes pleading, begging him not to make her do it. They said "You can have me, I am yours, but not to give away."
Vincenzo's upper lip curled back in an animal snarl. He shoved her in Herr Mueller's direction. "Go on! Do it, whore!" he ordered her. "Show him how much you appreciate the opportunity!! "
Amy stopped short of the seated man, her eyes glued to the hideous length of his penis.
"Down on your knees!" Vincenzo howled, his voice booming in the room.
Amy obeyed. Anything was better than the pain, she told herself. Anything. She knelt in front of the flaccid penis, staring up at it like a penitent before a vengeful, pagan god.
"Untie her hands," Herr Mueller said. "She'll need her hands, too."
Vincenzo quickly freed her wrists, then gave her another shove in the seated man's direction.
Amy was so close to the massive organ that she could smell it. It gave off a sour, cloying odor like chlorine mixed with stale sweat. The very thought that she was about to be forced into taking that gross thing between her lips made her stomach churn.
"Go on," Herr Mueller said, his voice suddenly gentle and soothing. He reached out and touched her hair, catching a handful of it in his fingers and pulling her face closer, closer to the hooded tip.
Beneath the gentle tone, there was an edge, a razor's edge. Amy could feel it like it was a tangible thing, feel it up her spine. There would be no further requests, she knew; there would only be agony, agony until she begged to be allowed to submit, agony long after she'd had enough.
Loathing herself, she reached up and took hold of the huge penis, trying to wrap her fingers about the broad base. She could not even lap it! It was hot and slightly greasy to the touch and the little bumps that marked it made her skin crawl. Steeling herself, she gripped the shaft tighter and gave it an experimental pump. As she pulled the thing toward herself, it flexed in her hand, throbbing like a living thing. It stretched out easily and when she slid her fingers back, the nozzle tip arched up feebly towards her chin. She pumped again and again and the shaft grew firmer and firmer with every stroke. As the penis grew in length, the hood about its tip seemed to shrink, to pull apart. When Amy slipped her fist to the root, she could see under the cap of skin. The head of his cock was there, concealed by the heavy folds of his foreskin. She pumped harder and the shiny, purple dome of his cock appeared. It was tremendous; it was cleft by a deep slot; it leaked a steady flow of thick white ooze. And suddenly the awful smell was a thousand times stronger.
Amy blew air out her nostrils to force the odor from them and then breathed through her mouth to keep from gagging. She put her other hand to the shaft and pumped him double handed, gripping his cock as if it were a baseball bat.
More of the huge head appeared. It looked like a monstrous plum perched atop the mottled brown shaft. And Amy began to be afraid that she would never be able to handle such a penis. It was so much bigger than Vincenzo's, both in thickness and in length! She could die with a penis like that lunging down her throat! She panicked totally. Her only chance seemed to be to make the thing orgasm before it became fully erect. Her fists jammed up and down the rigid shaft, working the loose outer sheath of skin back and forth over the inner bone, bunching it up under the broad, flaring rim of the purple cap.
"Shit!" Vincenzo swore. "Would you look at the little whore go!"
Whimpering, Amy pushed her lips over the slimy tip, thrusting them down as far as she could. The rank, salt taste of his semen flooded her mouth as his blazing cock head rubbed over the insides of her cheeks, the roof of her mouth, her tongue. The bulb, alone, filled her mouth to the bursting point and she could feel it pulse and throb ominously between her tortured lips.
"I told you she was hot," Vincenzo said. "Didn't I tell you?"
Amy was not hot; she was terrified. And when the big man pulled on her hair, making her thin, bloodless lips slip down over the rim of the spongy cap, down onto the thick shaft, her fear increased a thousandfold. The massive head pushed deeper in her mouth, bumping into the back of her throat, shutting off her air like a drain plug. It had to be done quickly! Quickly! She bobbed her head furiously, jamming the nasty, slick knob through the tight, sucking ring of her lips, pumping with her doubled fists, mashing the loose skin of his sheath up against her mouth, her nose, her chin in her frenzy.
The huge thing in her mouth began to belch thick wads of semen over her tongue. It was not orgasm, but pre-orgasm, Nature's way of providing a bit of extra lubricant to the action. Indeed, that's just what it did, too. Though Amy gulped and swallowed, to rid her mouth of the awful, sour taste, though her mouth filled with heavy slobber to rinse it away, there was just too much of it and its consistency was too sticky, too viscous. Her whole oral tract, from lips to gullet, was washed with the seminal ooze.
"Uhhhhghh," Amy groaned, her stomach revolting from the swallowed cum. She stopped moving her head, her hands, and with his gross dick head in her mouth, her face turning a deep red, she looked up at him piteously. Her soft eyes pleaded for mercy. She had failed. She couldn't bring him off. It hurt too much and it tasted too awful. Her whole throat burned with the heat of his discharge and her head spun from the odor of his balls.
She looked to the wrong person for mercy.
Herr Mueller bucked his hips, thrusting his thick rod deeper into her mouth.
"Ulp!" she croaked, her eyes slamming shut, her jaws opening automatically as the cock pushed between her lips, over the back of her tongue. As her mouth slipped down over his shaft, as the bulb squeaked against the walls of her throat, she knew he would not be satisfied until he had all of her ... whether it killed her or not, he would debauch her mouth totally, forcing her to swallow every gullet-busting inch of his cock.
The heavy lubricant he had oozed eased the way for the penetration to such an extent that even though she tightened her throat against the intrusion, she could not hold him out. His cock surged down her throat and the pain made her squirm, made her whinny through her nose. She knelt before him, her little hands balled up into fists, her arms flailing, her whole body quaking from the awful strain as the massive penis stretched her throat to the limit.
"Let's see more!" Vincenzo exclaimed. "I can see it pushing into her! I can see it right through her goddamn throat!"
Herr Mueller paid him no heed. He was staring fixedly at the distorted lower half of the lovely woman's face, watching his shaft disappear between her gaping lips. When he had forced a third of his penis past her lips, he drew back. Amy's mouth clasped wetly at the retreating cock, her lips making sloppy, sputtering sounds as the rim of the cap popped between them.
"Now, little bitch," Herr Mueller said, lunging.
The red telephone pole of his cock rocketed down her throat. Amy clawed the air frantically, seeking a handhold, some way to climb away from the horrible, horrible hurt. Her lips slipped down, down, down to the gross root; her nose was tickled by his coarse pubic hair; and her gullet screamed.
He only allowed her lips to rest there a split second before he drew back again and thrust, drew back and thrust, working his stiff meat against the walls of her throat, the surface of her tongue, her cheeks with animal passion, totally heedless of her safety or comfort. From the way he attacked her, one would've thought he was fucking the vagina of some loose, tired old whore. He savaged her mouth, holding the back of her head between his hands so she could not pull away, pumping his hips into her face, making the thick root of his cock dart in and out of her lips.
"Oh fucking hell!" Vincenzo swore, gaping at the pistoning shaft, glistening with drool, as the pink lips clasping and unclasping to the beat of the terrible lunges. The sight of Amy's debasement stirred something in his demented mind. He unzipped his fly and pulled out his already half-stiff cock. Wrapping his meaty fist about its neck, strangling it in his excitement, making the head swell and purple with rage, he moved closer, lowering his face to the level of Amy's overstuffed lips, peering at the shining stream of slobber and semen that dripped from the corners of her mouth ' and trickled down her chin, her neck.
Amy was oblivious to the observer, oblivious to everything but the demands of the hard penis. It demanded that she yield totally to its brutal lunges; if she did not, if she did not relax completely and let it happen, let this monster bottom her throat with his lust-thickened cock, the pain was excruciating. Even when she relaxed, it was like a horrible dull hurt that spread from her ravaged throat down over her shoulders and chest. And the deluge of thick lubricant was unending. It poured into her mouth faster than she could swallow it and with the pistoning of his shaft, it was forced, bubbling, out between her lips and the sliding meat, bathing her lower face in sticky goo.
On and on he humped, his sweaty pubis bashing against her lips, her teeth, his cock churning, rubbing over the slick, rubbery walls of her gullet. Amy thought it would never end, that she would never live to see it end. She could barely breathe and his hands were clutching at her head, pulling it into his animal lunges.
"Unnnff! Uhhhffffnn!" the big man grunted, his face turning beet red, his small eyes rolling up in their sockets so that only the whites showed. He rammed himself into her face, rolling his hips, making his terrible cock rub over her throat, making the heavy knob cut tight figure eights in the very bottom of her being.
And then his thrusts were coming so fast that there was no break in the hurt. Amy shuddered and writhed under the ceaseless impacts, her hands reflexively reaching up to grip the jerking, bucking hips. The nasty, sticky skin of his scrotum slapped her chin, slap, slap, slapping out the tempo of her degradation.
"SHEEEE!" Herr Mueller gasped, his whole body going suddenly rigid, his hands holding her lips pinned to the base of his cock.
The horrible thing in her throat flexed, jerking against the slick walls, throbbing between her lips. Amy knew it was going to happen. It felt like she was atop a volcano about to explode.
Gritting his teeth, grimacing like a madman, Herr Mueller drew back quickly, pulling his bulb from her throat to her mouth. As his climaxing cock slipped over the velvety flesh of her tongue, it spurted once, a tiny comet of semen shooting down her throat.
Amy's whole body jerked as the sticky, hot fluid belched over her gullet. Let that be all of it, she prayed, gulping the vile stuff down.
It was not all.
"Ahhhh!" the orgasming man sighed, letting go with a second volley. The first was a mere trickle compared to this torrent.
"Ulllllk!" Amy gagged, as the tablespoon of semen flooded her mouth. There was too much of it, it was too awful, she could not swallow.
"Uhhhhh!" Herr Mueller groaned, sending a third spurt after the others, then a fourth, fifth and sixth in rapid succession, his climaxing cock spasming between her ovaled lips.
The sudden deluge choked her and she had to swallow or suffocate. But it was too late. There was far too much fluid. And more on the way. The burning semen gushed from between her tightly clasped lips and his shaft, dripping down from her chin in yo-yoing gobbets; it backed up in her throat, surging up into her nostrils.
"Holy shit!" Vincenzo cried, watching twin streams of thick, white fluid pour from her nose, his fist pumping maniacally on his rigid cock.
When the orgasming finally stopped, when the great dickhead gave its last throb and spurt, Amy began to weep brokenly. Her entire face was awash with the aftermath of the man's climax, her nostrils were aflame with its liquid fire, her mouth filled with the taste of it, her stomach grumbling, churning from the load it had received. She had been used again, used like a living garbage can, a place where these animal-men could rut at will, giving vent to their bestial hunger, unleashing their seminal fluids at their pleasure.
"Hmmm," Herr Mueller said, removing his wet penis from between her lips, gazing down at the dazed eyes, the slack expression on her face. "She seems a bit lethargic to me."
"Anybody'd be 'lethargic' after a session like that," Vincenzo said, his cheeks flushed with heat, his cock a curving red staff in his stroking fist. "You really pumped the stuffing out of her. But she was enjoying it, I could tell."
The big man eyed him suspiciously. "And how could you tell?" he asked.
The chauffeur chuckled ... it was a nasty sound ... and let go of his cock. He put both hands on Amy's shoulders and pulled her back on the floor, then pushed her thighs apart.
"Look at that hot little pussy," Vincenzo said. "She's really ready for it now."
Amy groaned. She did not have to look down. She could feel it, feel the tingling prickles of heat dancing over the swollen flanges of her cunt, feel the heavy seepage of her juices slipping from the bottom of her slit, trickling down between her buttocks.
"Hold her still!" Herr Mueller barked, dropping to his knees between her outspread thighs.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Vincenzo pressed down hard on her shoulders, pinning them to the floor and the big man, leering at her wet cunt, put his fingers to the silky skin on the inside of her thighs, sliding them up to the point where her legs joined her crotch. His thumbs brushed the dewy flaps, peeling them back, exposing the creamy entrance to her pussy.
"Uhhh!" Amy whined, cringing as a thick, coarse finger jabbed up into her vagina, pushing over the rubbery walls, feeling all the slick ridges and valleys.
Herr Mueller only prodded her a few more times, working his finger in and out from tip to knuckle, before he took it out. "This bitch is wet, but she's not ready for me," he said, glaring at Vincenzo. "She doesn't want me badly enough."
"She does!" Vincenzo protested. "Damn, I can see her pussy winking from here! She wants you, ask her, you just ask her."
Vincenzo's fingers dug into the sides of Amy's throat.
"Well?" Herr Mueller said, teasing the mouth of her cunt with a lewd circular caress of the thumb. "Tell me, how much do you want my cock?"
"I-I-I w-want it!" she said, wincing at the hurt the chauffeur's grip.
"No, that will never do," Herr Mueller said, shaking his massive head. "She is terrified and that is not enough. She must be pushed beyond fear. She should've already been driven that far, Vincenzo. You know how much I hate having to do your work for you. But, in this case, there is no other way. Hold her tighter!"
Vincenzo put all his weight on poor Amy's shoulders. Then the big man gripped her right calf and twisted it, making it cross over her left leg, and then pushed farther, until the lower part of her torso was turned ninety degrees, until her right hip was pointing straight up in the air, until around the side of her hip, he could see her saucy buttocks and the damp slit of her pussy below.
"You're going to enjoy this, bitch," he promised her. "And you're going to climax before we're done. Whether you want to or not makes no difference. We will make you cum..."
Amy's mind reeled at the man's words. Could they really do it? she thought. Could they make her orgasm? Could they do what Burt had never been able to do? The idea that she could be forced to climax sickened her and terrified her. The other things she'd been bullied, beaten into doing were for the pleasure of others, not herself. If she actually got pleasure from her own debasement! She swallowed the bitter bile that flooded her mouth. That, she knew would be the finish of Amy, the lowest she could fall: to be like a dog bitch-in-heat in a vacant lot, mindlessly taking on cock after hard, ruddy cock, crazy with the fever in her blood, being fucked to the point of orgasm again and again, being fucked until, whether there was a penis jabbing into her vagina or not, her hips would continue flipping, hunching into thin air.
" ... And after you cum around our cocks," Herr Mueller went on, "you will have no will of your own, only a need to be taken, a need to give all of yourself, mouth, pussy, anus, to whomever orders it of you. And you will love it, you will revel in the abuse, you will plead for more..."
Amy could not meet the big man's stare. The look in his eyes was crazy, like a wild animal's, an animal that pulls down its prey by the throat and shreds arteries with its teeth to make the kill.
"It will be wonderful for you," he said. "But first...."
Amy knew what was about to happen even before the man raised his right hand overhead. Something deep in her bowels told her it was Pain Time again. She didn't want that. She couldn't face it again.
"Noooooo! Please!! ! " she wailed, miserably. "Don't hit me! Don't hit me again!! I'll do it. I'll do anything you say!! ! "
Herr Mueller smirked at her. "Not enough, bitch," he said. "You must be more than merely obedient. You must love what we make you do. You have to be taught how to love it. In order to know pleasure, you must know pain."
The broad hand came down in a blur and landed flat against her unprotected bottom.
TTTTHHWACK!! !
"YEEEE!! " Amy squealed, squirming frantically, futilely to escape the stinging pain. It was worse than the belt. A hundred times worse. His huge hand impacted over five times the area, the fingers smacking into her buttocks as the heel of his hand bashed into the mouth of her vagina, and the hurt was jarring, stunning.
TTTTTHHWACK!! !
"YEEEE!! " she bawled, her eyes brimming with tears, her face burning with shame and anger and disgust.
TTTTTHHWACK!! !
"YEEEE!! " The hurt kept building, blossoming, creeping down the backs of her thighs in rivers of fire.
"Hit her! Beat the shit out of her!" Vincenzo cried, his eyes bulging, his lips flecked with foam. TTTTHHWACK!! ! TTTTHHWACK!! ! TTTTHHWACK!! !
Herr Mueller laid into her like a monstrous punishment machine, pounding her bare buttocks, her naked pussy with his huge open hand. Her cries for mercy only made him hit her harder, laying on the blows until her ass was one furious red weal.
Through her tears, through the pain, Amy could see the face of her tormentor. It was livid with lust, the eyes hidden by slitted lids, the lips drawn back from clenched teeth, the nostrils dilated. She could see that he was living it, loving her every whimper, loving each stinging smack of his hand upon her defenseless backside. It was more than mere zeal, more than ardor; it was raw, seething hunger. It brought his flaccid, spent cock to full straining erection, the massive knob end bashing impatiently against his chest as the thick shaft throbbed and jerked; it brought his spent balls up from his mid thigh, brought them swollen and bloated up to snuggle against the root of his cock, lewd red eggs in a shiny, hair covered sack.
When it was clear that her cries were only enflaming him further, Amy bit her tongue to cut them off. She lay there for what seemed like a million years, jerking, quaking under the series of violent blows. After a bit, she realized that it didn't hurt quite so much. With fear glazed eyes, she looked up at the huge man. No, he was still hell bent on thrashing her, his hand still falling, hissing through the air. But undeniably, the' pain was less. It was as if her nerve endings were finally overloaded, fuses blown, backup systems shot down. What once had sent rivers of agony rushing up her back, now only sent an amazing warmth, a tingling sensation.
TTTTTTTHHWACK!! !
TTTTTTTHHWACK!! !
TTTTTTTHHWACK!! !
Amy felt no pain, only the impact, muffled by her short-circuited ganglia, only the intense heat spreading, billowing.
TTTTTTTHHWACK!! !
TTTTTTTHHWACK!! !
Beads of sweat trickled down Herr Mueller's heavy brows, down the sides of his face. He seemed to be able to sense that his blows were having less of an effect on her than before. So, instead of hitting her harder, he directed his brutal swats to a different target. He kneeled on her right leg, freeing his left hand for action, then clutched at her buttocks with it, pulling them apart, revealing the tight, puckering ring of her rectum and the sopping wet gash of her cunt. His right hand zeroed in on her pussy.
TTTTTTTHHWACK!! !
"YEEEE!! " Amy squealed, as the blow smacked into her pudenda, into the fat, pink mound between her legs. Her cry came more from shock than hurt, for the slap brought very little pain, only a jarring, stunning sensation ... and something else, something quite unexpected, quite unwanted.
TTTTTTTHHWACK!! !
TTTTTTTHHWACK!! !
"Jesus! Slap that cunt!" Vincenzo said, his voice breaking on the last syllable, his eyes glued to the gaping slit, to the blur of thick fingers whizzing down, crashing into the tender meat, fingers that came away gleaming, shining with slippery juice.
And Herr Mueller did just that. He wailed on poor Amy's pussy, smacking it again and again, until her labia dropped from her pubic mound, until her hot fluids were spattered all over the inside of her thighs, her buttocks, his wrist and forearm. He held her buttocks apart and did it, watching her face with hungry eyes.
Under the furious onslaught of blows, the same warmth that bathed her backside was creeping over the swollen flanged of her pussy. Along with it, there was a tingling, prickling feeling. Amy was awed by the gradual change in her body's response to the battering, awed and horrified. She could not deny that the steady pounding was beginning to feel good, that the much-abused flesh of her cunt was reacting to it as if it were a series of tender caresses. She tried desperately to regain control of herself. It was supposed to hurt! she thought. She wanted it to hurt! If it felt good, it meant that the enemy was gaining, that her mind was slipping. But the harder she tried to concentrate on the pain she could no longer feel, the more delicious was the pleasure she could feel. TTTTTTTHHWACK!! !
A tickling explosion thundered between her legs at the jolting smack and she could feel her pussy sphincter opening and closing rapidly, squeezing on the thin air.
TTTTTTHHWACK!! !
"Uhhh!" Amy moaned, unable to cut off the whimper of ecstasy. Her vagina glowed with delight, a tiny furnace nestled between her cruelly twisted thighs.
TTTTTTHHWACK!! !
TTTTTTHHWACK!! !
"UHHH!! " she said, gasping for breath as the slaps smashed into her slick flesh, as the jarring vibrations rippled through her meat, quivering over her hot, hard little cut. Great sizzling arcs of electricity leapt up her spine, pleasure washed up over her tummy, bathing her tits in its liquid fire.
"Go Baby!" Vincenzo groaned. "She's moving her ass! She's starting to move her ass! She's digging it!"
Amy could hear him and she didn't care. She knew she was moving her bottom, thrusting it up as best she could to meet each stinging blow, and she didn't care. Her veins were flooded with hormones, her face flushed with the fever. Her pussy was squirming and trembling like it never had before. This awful brute was doing with pain and humiliation what her husband had never been able to do with tenderness and respect! She was being pushed inexorably to the brink of orgasm, each successive blow shoving her closer with sudden, incandescent Joy that blossomed, faded, blossomed.
"OOOH!" she cooed, her lips pursed in a lewd, puckering kiss, her bottom twisting, writhing in delight.
And the sound his hand made as it impacted against her tenderest flesh was instantly changed. It was moister, sloppier. It sounded like a heavy boot slogging into ankle deep muck and then being wrenched, with a sucking, sticky noise, free.
"She's getting ready to cum!" the panting chauffeur exclaimed. "You're going to make the little whore cum!"
Amy shivered under the heat, the pleasure. She knew it was true. The great hulking monster of a man was going to slap her until she orgasmed.
"Uhhhhfff! Uhhhhfff!" she puffed, her cheeks burning, her mind alight with crackling sheets If flame. There was no question of faking it now.
Whether she liked it or not, she was being driven to the point of climax. There was no time to consider what was happening to her, the horrible truth it told about her weakness. TTTTTTHHWACK!! !
"YEEEE!! ! " she warbled, rubbing her cunt against the punishing palm. TTTTTTHHWACK!! !
"YEEEE!! ! " she whinnied, her yawning labia smooching out, sucking at the retreating hand.
Amy readied herself for yet another ecstatic blow. She thrust her reddened bottom up to meet its impact. The slap never came.
"Uhhh!" she whined, her eyes snapping open, so full of need, bloodshot with the fever. She raised her ass again, showing it to the huge figure looming over her, offering it to him.
Herr Mueller laughed, his deep voice booming, his little pig's eyes darting over the furious flesh of her backside, the gaping crevasse of her pussy.
"I think not," he said to her.
Amy closed her eyes and shuddered. Then it hit her, then the awful shame avalanched, burying her in self-loathing. She wanted him to go on! She craved the horrible abuse that would bring her release. His power over her was complete. He held her mind like a tiny bird in his massive fist. He could crush it with a single squeeze. He could give her pleasure ... or deny it.
"Man, does she want it now!" Vincenzo said, removing his right hand from her shoulder, putting his knee in its place. He pried his curving, ruddy cock from his chest and began masturbating himself with undisguised glee, sliding the blood-thickened shaft through his tightly closed fist. "And she's going to get it, too!" he added, leaning down and speaking directly into her face.
But Amy was not looking at him. She was staring at the thing in his hand. His fingers dug into the shaft, rubbing over the pendulous folds of his nerve bundle, turning them a fiery red, causing the slot at the tip of his bulb to leak thick white slop all over its blind face, all down over his hairy knuckles. Did she really want that? She could remember the pain, the awful feeling of her insides being torn apart, when that huge crescent of meat jabbed into her before. Did she want that pain? To be stuck again and again and again, spitted to the wet hairs by that tremendous girth, that throbbing length?
"Do you want it, bitch?" Herr Mueller asked, his eyes burning into hers.
Amy could not speak. Her mouth was dry, parched, and her brain was smoldering.
"Tell us. Do you want it?" he repeated, his rough fingers mauling her puffy external sex meat, clutching, pinching at her flaps, grinding his calloused palm against the mouth of her sex.
The flames roared higher. Amy's hips moved of their own accord, pushing into the rasping caress, mashing her cunt up into the groping hand.
"Do you want our dicks?" Herr Mueller said, pushing a pair of fingers into her vagina, twisting them back and forth over her buttery inner folds, seeking out the wrinkly nub of her clit.
"YESSS!! ! " she shrieked, as her entire pussy exploded with joy, as skyrockets zoomed between her ears. She thrust her hips into the stabbing digits, forcing her cunt to swallow more, more, more, craving the hurt, the sensation of being filled to the limit and beyond.
As Herr Mueller watched with lewd satisfaction the wild, screwing antics of the poor battered girl, as he felt the slick flesh of her vagina gobbling his fingers, sucking at them passionately, he, too, pulled his immense cock down from against his chest and began to masturbate. After a short dozen strokes, his gross purple bulb was leaking milky ooze like an old faucet; it was running down over his fingers in long, ropy strands.
Amy, deep down, knew what she was doing, knew that fucking herself on this brute's outstretched fingers was shameful and wanton, but she could not stop. The combination of the hurt and the pleasure was too much for her mind. All she could concentrate on was her own climax. She could see it off on the horizon like a technicolor sunset. Though she ran headlong for it, each stride the length of Herr Mueller's pistoning digits, she didn't seem to be able to get any closer. Then it dawned on her that she wasn't going to make it, not like this, not ever. She began to whimper fitfully, lunging her pussy into his hand faster and harder ... not to give herself more pleasure, but to punish herself for her failure to reach her goal.
"Damn! Would you look at that whore screw!! ! " Vincenzo croaked. He swung his oozing joint over her face and pumped, forcing the sticky streamers up from his balls, out of his slot, watching as they yo-yoed, then fell down onto her forehead.
Amy moaned as the hot gobbets splattered over her face, beads of milky white running over her cheeks, nose and chin. Though she twisted her head from side to side, she could not evade the nasty, sticky rain.
"Hold her legs!" Herr Mueller barked, grabbing one of Amy's ankles and handing it to the slack-jawed chauffeur.
Vincenzo took hold of her ankles and pulled her legs up over her head. Then he pushed down on the backs of her knees, mashing them into her breasts. Between her creamy thighs, all pooched out away from her body, hung her hot little cunt.
Amy could hardly breathe. She was folded up like a lawn chair, her torso horribly compressed. And she soon discovered that it was more than just her torso, too. Herr Mueller jammed his fingers into her and they felt like they were going to come out her mouth. The corrugated tube of her vagina was compressed, foreshortened by the contorted position she was being forced to assume, so that every thrust went straight to the bottom of her being.
The huge man finally stopped his hungry probing and withdrew his fingers. He peered down at her ravaged slit, pushing the spongy lips back with his glistening digits.
"I'm going to eat you like you've never been eaten before," he told her, licking his lips as if he were about to dive into a banquet.
"UHHH!! " Amy whimpered as he put his open mouth to her open gash, as he pushed his broad, thick tongue up into her pussy. Again, due to the compression, he was able to move his probe over the entire length of her vagina, to touch the very back of her womb with its waggling tip. Amy could not believe the pressure he put on the walls of her cunt with his flailing, squirming tool, on the mouth of her cunt with its gruesomely thick base. It felt like she was being fucked by some kind of crazy, spineless cock, a cock that could cork screw over her ridges and folds, that could wriggle and twist like a snake in a frying pan.
Herr Mueller grunted and snorted into her wet cunt, grinding his gaping lips over her crotch, rubbing his chin into her anus, feeling every tight wrinkle of her channel sucking up every drop of pungent juice her pussy let slip.
"Eat her! Chew the cunt off her!" Vincenzo babbled, scooting forward, straddling her head with his knees, dropping his hot, sweaty scrotum onto her unprotected face.
Amy could no more escape those sperm-bloated balls, than she could escape the writhing, churning tongue that spitted her vagina. She was inundated by the rank, sour smell of the chauffeur's crotch, the rasping, nasty odor of his rectum. To her horror, the demented Vincenzo began rubbing his whole fork over her face. His sticky balls slipped down the bridge of her nose, over the tip, onto her tightly closed lips. The tuft of thick, coarse hairs behind his balls tickled her forehead, moving down her nose, scratching at her cheeks.
"Oh, suck you whore. Suck my fucking balls!" he cried, grinding his scrotum and its shifting, churning cargo into her mouth.
The pebbly chicken skin pressed into her lips, the rank smelling hairs scratched up her nostrils, and against her forehead something moist and blazing hot squirmed and puckered. Nothing on earth would make her open her mouth, she thought. She was wrong.
Herr Mueller's swirling tongue rubbed over her clit, pushing the hard bud back and forth furiously.
"OOOOH!" Amy crooned, her lips forming an ecstatic oval.
That was all the invitation that Vincenzo needed. He stuffed both of his swollen balls into her face, cramming them between her lips with his fingers.
Amy groaned as she felt those hairy orbs popping into her mouth, as she tasted the raw male flavor of their sweat. And then her cheeks were all ballooned out from the girth of the mouthful and her sinuses raged with the odor of man-in-heat.
"Suck!" he commanded, mashing his crotch into her face, pumping his angry cock through his fist.
Under the tip of her nose something moved, squirming, puckering, something both hot and sticky.
"SUCK!! " he bellowed, jamming the horrible something against her nose.
Amy's whole body jerked as the seething, wrinkly ring parted over the tip of her nose. It was so awful, so absolutely awful that she couldn't bear it. She sucked, pulling her cheeks tight about their nasty burden, slurping with her tongue over the bumpy surface.
"JEEE-SUS!" the chauffeur croaked, his eyes bugging from his head, his fist going a mile a minute over his cock, turning the whole knob end into a red blur.
Herr Mueller looked up from his meal of sticky pussy, up over Amy's quaking tummy, her trembling, flattened tits, and saw that Vincenzo's entire scrotum had disappeared into the weeping girl's face. He could see her overstuffed lips nursing passionately just under the arching length of the chauffeur's cock; he could see the unmistakable double outline of the man's balls against the flesh of her cheeks. The sight of the poor creature's further debasement, degradation put wings to his sick libido. He jammed his tongue into her, bobbing his head, lashing her tender clitoris unmercifully.
"MmmmmmmghlU!! " Amy gargled, as the sweet detonations racked her mound.
The huge man groaned between her legs, groaned as the powerful muscles of her vagina closed up on his thrusting tongue, stopping it in mid-lunge. Then the rippling, inward spasm began. It was almost as if her cunt was trying to suck his tongue out by the roots.
To Amy, it felt like her whole lower body was convulsing, buttocks, pussy, belly. She could feel her cunt quivering, wringing out the length of the big man's tongue. The sudden constriction made her sphincter sputter and fart gusts of trapped air and juice into the man's face. To the tune of those ecstatic and sloppy explosions, she made love to the swollen balls in her mouth, sweeping her tongue over them, twisting her head as much as she could to make her cheeks rub over them.
In her helplessness, Amy was finding freedom, though she did not recognize it, yet. She didn't know why she was giving those awful testicles such a going-over, why she was moaning so balefully as she did so. All she knew was that the tongue burrowing in her pussy was caught up, held fast in that tender trap, and that her loins were seething with a kind of terrible lust that she had never before experienced.
Herr Mueller put his hands to her buttocks and pushed, pulling back his head at the same time. His thick tongue stretched and stretched, but would not come free. Groaning, he fitted his thumb to her winking anus and shoved.
"ARRRGLLLL!! " Amy howled into the drum-tight scrotum, as the digit lanced up through her tiny sphincter, boring deep in her bottom, bringing sharp, agonizing pain.
The big man winced as her pussy, in response to the hurt, squeezed even harder. Then, for a second, the entire constricted channel relaxed. He pushed on her ass and jerked his tongue free.
"Mmmmmm!" Amy bawled softly, unhappily, as her womb was emptied, as the mouth of her cunt gave forth with flurry of moist sputters, forcing the trapped air from it as it closed on nothing.
"That's it, fuck her! Fuck the pussy off her!" the chauffeur told his boss, watching with feverish eyes as the big man pried his huge cock down from against his chest and began rubbing the drooling knob over the fiery flanges of her cunt.
Amy shuddered as she was stroked, as her pussy was circled by the great, velvety, sticky bulb. It dwarfed her whole crotch and the heat that came off it was astonishing, searing not only the tender meat of her sex, but her buttocks, her thighs as well.
The big man toyed with her juicy cunt, rubbing his meat into the seething furrow, daubing its gruesome tip with her copious fluid. When the massive head gleamed, dripped with lubricant, he leaned into her, pulling her labia out from under the blind face, forcing the domed end against the mouth of her pussy.
Amy's heart began to race. It was too big! Too monstrously big! She was sure there was no way her little cunt could stretch to accommodate such a machine. She was sure that it would split her bottom from anus to navel on the first lunge. She groaned as the thumb in her rectum started to churn, to push in and out, in and out mindlessly bringing numbing waves of pain.
Herr Mueller gazed down at her through his lust-reddened eyes. His cock head was pressed against the buttery flesh of her vagina, the great purple knob pinning her pink petals back against her mound; his thumb was pushing through the tight, sucking grip of her anus, drawing that flexing ring far from her body on each back stroke. Her helplessness, her vulnerability excited him even more than the delicious contact. It made him want to rip his way into her tender channel, to tear and ravage it with powerful thrusts of his heavy cock. Unable to control the firestorm of need raging in his veins, the big man drew back a scant half inch ... and lunged.
Amy screamed into her mouthful of balls. The immense head slammed into her sphincter brutally and thanks to its-coating of her own viscous juice, it slipped in to the broad, flaring rim. Amy's pussy convulsed on the dome of his cock, trying frantically to push the huge thing out. It was impossible. His weight was all bearing down on her, jamming the knob against her cunt. She could feel herself start to split, to tear under the horrible pressure of all that meat.
"Unnnff!" the big man grunted, ticking his hips, thrusting his enraged penis deeper into her tight delight.
Amy screamed again at the hurt, her feet kicking feebly in the air. With a pop! that was audible as well as tactile, the thick, spongy rim of his cock shot into her pussy, slipping past the inner edge of her sphincter. Never in her life had she been so horribly stretched, so ruthlessly used. It felt like he was forcing her pussy to accept the end of a telephone pole! She could not even imagine anything more painful, more frightening.
But there was more to come, so much more.
Herr Mueller, his face turning beet red as the blazing heat of her pussy swallowed his cock, lunged again, driving deeper still, forcing her cunt walls to part over the tip of his massive knob, shoving a third of his throbbing shaft between her distended labia.
Amy gasped. He was killing her, she was sure of it. There was no way her body could withstand that incredible pressure, the awesome force against the sides of her narrow passage. Her whole body began to quake, to tremble, muscles going haywire, tummy rippling, buttocks jerking, as the immense bulb, the iron hard shaft stabbed, flattening every ridge, every valley, every wrinkle in their path.
"Give it to her!" Vincenzo shouted, grinding his ass lasciviously onto the terrified woman's face, pumping his own rigid cock with a frenetic, tip to root stroke. "Shove it up her cunt so far she can taste it!! "
Herr Mueller had just that intention. He put all his strength into a single, bone-jarring thrust, clamping his muscular buttocks together, throwing his weight into the lunge.
Under Vincenzo's gyrating ass, Amy made a shrill, piercing cry. The massive cock bashed its way to the very bottom of her cunt; it filled her contorted passage from wall to wall, from her belly to the torn cunt mouth. She was ruined, ruined as never before.
Wheezing with his own depraved hunger, the big man pulled back, dragging his penis through the slick grip of her pussy, making his bulb's thick rim bump over her tender clit.
Showers of sparks bathed Amy's loins as that hot ridge of flesh caressed her thrill center. Her pussy tried to respond, tried to squeeze down on the great knob, but the best its battered sphincter could do was to flutter weakly about the glistening neck.
The big man lunged, groaning at the tightness of her pussy as it slipped down to the root of his cock. He mashed his hairy pubis against hers, rasping her distended labia with his coarse fur, making his hips move in a lewd circle that forced her cunt mouth to roll about the base of his cock.
Amy cried out again at the stinging pain of the penetration. He was fucking her like a maniac, with no regard for her safety, not the slightest thought for her pleasure. All he wanted was to bury his hulking penis in her vagina, to feel her belly ripple with the impact of his mound against hers.
Herr Mueller reared back and lunged, reared back and lunged, drawing his cock almost entirely out of her cunt, until he could see the gleaming rim slip out from between her gaping labia, before thrusting it all, every tube-splitting inch of it back inside.
Every time that rim of his bumped her clit, Amy's pussy would ignite and the flames would lick up at her tits, her face. And suddenly, she realized that it wasn't hurting so badly, that a warm, tingling sensation was engulfing her whole fork, creeping up the backs of her thighs.
"Would you look at that cunt juice!" the chauffeur moaned. "I can smell it from here!! "
Amy knew without looking that it was true. Her pussy was seeping thick, hot fluid to lubricate the path of the monstrous cock. She could feel it welling up from the depths of her cunt, oozing out with every lunge, every backstroke, smearing all down over her buttocks, down into the crack between them.
The big man huffed and puffed, hunching his hips into her faster and faster, making his friction-reddened joint dart in and out of her glistening cunt mouth.
"Mmuhh! Mmuhh!" she gasped into the hairy sack, gasped at every impact of dick root, gasped as the thick ridge see-sawed back and forth over her thrill center. His penis was moving easily now, slipping through her buttery channel like a piston through a well-oiled sleeve.
"Get off her face!" Herr Mueller said to the wheezing Vincenzo. "I want to see how she's taking it!! "
Moaning, the chauffeur reluctantly raised his crotch from Amy's face, holding her chin down, pulling his balls from the burning embrace of her cheeks.
"Oh, yes! Yes!" the big man said, leering down at her passion-reddened features, never breaking stride with his flipping hips, his stabbing cock. "Yes, she's hot now. Hot and ready."
Vincenzo scrambled around to the side of the lewdly interlocked couple so he could see her pussy gulping the gross red tree limb of a cock. His own cock bucked up against his chest impatiently, spitting threads of white semen from its lust-bloated tip.
"Now it's your turn to do the fucking, bitch," the big man told her. He stopped moving his hips, leaving his cock thrust halfway into her.
Amy blinked up at him, her mouth open, her nostrils dilated.
"I want to see you move that tight little butt," he said, twisting his thumb over the smooth, rubbery walls of her anus.
"Uhhhh," Amy whined, wincing at the roughness of his touch, at the now all too familiar sting of an orifice stretching, yielding to an insistent probe.
He let go of her legs, allowing her to put her feet back on the ground, her knees touching the sides of his broad torso.
"Move it, whore, move it!" Vincenzo cried, pounding the floor next to her head with his fist.
The booming hurt her ears, made her head rattle against the floor. Experimentally, she nudged her hips towards him. The juice-moistened head of his cock pushed deeper into her. There was no pain at all, only the delicious sensation of being filled, packed with hot male meat. Encouraged, she pushed harder, lifting her hips from the floor to force all of his cock into her pussy, to spit herself to the hairs on it.
"That's the way! Shake it!" the chauffeur croaked, his hand returning to clasp his erect penis, to milk and pump the rigid shaft.
"Faster!" Herr Mueller commanded, punctuating his order by giving Amy a firm smack on the ass.
"UHHH!" she wailed. It was not the pain of the blow itself that terrified her; it was the memory of the past blows. She snapped her hips down, pulling her vagina down from the broad dick root, making her channel squirm the length of his cock. Then she thrust up, jamming it all back inside. Up and down, up and down, she moved her bottom, clinging to the sides of his massive chest with her knees and the insides of her thighs.
"FASTER!! " he bellowed, leering down at her sweet, ravaged pussy, watching it gobble all his glistening meat.
Amy whimpered and obeyed, flipping her ass with wild abandon. Everything down there was so wet! So sloppy, slippery wet! Her pussy was sputtering and farting and the feeling she got as she rubbed her clit over his dick's rim was almost indescribable. The feeling was pleasurable, yes, but it was different than any pleasure she'd ever felt; it was more concentrated, more intense; it blocked out everything else. She let herself relax a little bit, let herself go with the feeling.
"Yes! Would you look at that little whore screw!" Vincenzo said. "Yes," I'm getting so hot I can hardly stand it."
"Uhhff! Uhhff! Uhhff!" Amy panted, gyrating her ass, working her hips, making her pussy suck at his cock. She knew that she was acting like a "Little whore," a hot little slut and that the act wasn't solely for the benefit of her captors. She felt a twinge of guilt at her wantonness and the twinge operated the same conditioned response as the blows of the belt, the swats of the hand: she humped harder, faster, slipping her legs around his thick waist, locking her ankles over the small of his back.
"Dammit, I've got to have me some of that," Vincenzo wailed, his eyes pleading, shamelessly begging.
Herr Mueller sneered at him. "You'll fuck her when I let you and not before," he said. "Oh, but she is giving me a wonderful fuck! That's it, bitch, squirm, squirm!"
Amy did as she was told, jamming her vagina down over the pulsing cock, then, when it was hair-deep in her, she rubbed her pubis against his, grinding her pussy against the gross root.
"Oh, man, oh, man, oh, man," Vincenzo said, swallowing hard as he watched the small woman greedily impale herself on the lust-thickened cock.
"Faster, now!" Herr Mueller hissed down at her. "Fuck me faster, make me cum inside your pussy!"
"Uhhff! Uhhff! Uhhff!! " she gasped, her bottom shifting into high gear, her pussy swallowing cock like there was no tomorrow, gulping the entire tube-splitting length of it in a single, nonstop lunge, then jerking back, her friction-reddened petals clasping wetly to the straining shaft. Her hot little clit took a terrible buffeting and over and over, her crotch was racked with sudden, spine-tingling surges of sheer ecstasy. Every time a joy surge hit her, an image popped into her mind, filling it from temple to temple with technicolor glory, with glorious sunset. She panted and wheezed, sprinting for the fluorescent orange ball, for the flaming pink streamers of cloud, for the blinding turquoise of the sky beyond. She could feel the tropical heat of that swollen sun, feel it scorching over her pussy, her belly, her breasts, passing against her flesh in sheets of fire. It didn't matter that all this delicious sensation was being forced on her, that she was being raped, and leered at while she was being raped. Nothing mattered but that glowing ball; nothing mattered but that she reach it.
The face of the man looming over her, suddenly twisted, the tendons in his jaws showing under his flesh. Amy could feel the entire length of his penis pulse against the walls of her pussy. It was coming! she thought. Oh, dear, it was coming!
"Enough!" the big man growled, jerking his wet cock from her pussy's grasp. It snapped up against his bare chest with a moist smack, fountaining thick white pre-orgasmic fluid all down its gleaming shaft.
CHAPTER NINE
Amy lay there, her chest heaving, her tummy rippling, her pussy squeezing on thin air. Only her rectum held a hard probe, his thumb, and then it, too, was gone.
"Oooh," she moaned as the thing was wrenched from the grip of her sphincter.
"Can I do her now?! " Vincenzo asked.
"Shut up!" Herr Mueller said. "If you don't shut up, you won't get to do her at all!"
The chauffeur shut up, consoling himself by squeezing his own balls and masturbating himself with tender, wringing strokes.
"You almost climaxed for us, didn't you, bitch?" Herr Mueller said, running his fingertips over the sopping wet fur atop her pussy.
Amy shivered at his touch and her hips flipped, making her whole yawning cunt slap against the palm of his hand. It was true, she knew it. For the first time in her life, she had been so close to orgasm that she could taste it, sweet and thick like honey on the back of her tongue. That her near-ecstasy had been at the hands and cocks of these degenerates sent a sudden jolt of disgust straight to her belly. She knew she was on the verge of something too terrible to contemplate. Something infinitely worse than all of the torment, the suffering she'd endured so far. She fought a wild, last ditch struggle inside her mind, a battle for control, a fight to hold onto the tattered strips of her personality. I am Amy! she told herself. Amy! AMY!! Nothing they can do to me will shatter me. I AM AMY!! !
"What're you going to do to her now?" Vincenzo asked, his eyes licking over her naked, ravaged fork.
Herr Mueller smirked at him, reaching up to take the thumping penis from against his chest. He squeezed his own cock ferociously, making the great head puff out alarmingly, making it turn a purple so dark that it looked blue black. White ooze spilled from his strangulated cap. running in thick rivulets down over his clutching fingers, down over the shiny red sack of his balls.
Amy stared at the massive organ. If anything, it looked even bigger than before. All the friction against her pussy had made it swell, made even more hot, lusting blood pump into it.
Without a word, the big man gripped her legs and wrenched her over on her stomach, kneeling in between her thighs. His thumbs gouged into her crack, spreading the full cheeks so far apart that the crack, itself, disappeared, so that her tiny rectum protruded lewdly from between his fingers.
"Ah right!" the chauffeur cried, his fingers moving in a blur over his cock.
There was no doubt in Amy's mind what he was going to do to her, or where he was going to do it. To have that immense cock crammed balls deep in her anus would be the final humiliation, the ultimate degradation. Her whole spirit rebelled, revolted at the thought. Shrieking, clawing at the floor with both hands, she struggled to escape.
"What?! ! " Herr Mueller shouted, aghast that she would try to get away. He held her by the buttocks, held her fast, despite the violence of her thrashings.
"Oh, no, please! Please!! " she blubbered, exhausting herself with her kicking, writhing.
When she finally lay still, the big man gestured for his lackey to approach them. "Get her up on her knees," Herr Mueller ordered.
The chauffeur forced the weeping Amy to assume an elbow knee stance before the big man. Her buttocks were tipped up in the air, offering him total access to her backside.
"Hold her there until I tell you to let go," Hen-Mueller said, once again spreading her cheeks, peering down at the tiny, winking ring.
Amy was racked with choking, sobbing cries. She didn't care that her face was being pressed into the underside of Vincenzo's hard cock; it was her other end that was in desperate danger, her other end that was being presented lewdly to the panting animal.
The big man held her cheeks apart with one hand and took his cock in the other, bending it down, fitting the heavy cap to the pink ring.
Amy jerked at the touch of that blazing bulb upon the sensitive flesh of her anus. "Please, please don't do it!! " she bawled into Vincenzo's steaming crotch. "Please, anything else! Anything!! ! "
"Go on!" the chauffeur gasped, bucking his hips into her head, rubbing his penis against her face. "Go on! Fuck her in the ass!! "
Herr Mueller's face was livid with lust, his eyes glinting like a wild animal's as he stared at his tremendous tool crammed between her outspread buttocks. As he stared, his breathing became heavier, hoarser. He was working himself up into a frenzy of sexual anger.
Amy could feel him behind her, his hands on her hips shaking with fury, his great cock head pressed tight against her tightly closed sphincter. She knew that it was going to happen, that nothing on earth but sudden death would stop the monster who raged at her back from spitting her with that gruesome cock.
"Oh, no, no," she whimpered, clutching at Vincenzo's thighs in her terror.
"UHHHNFF!" the big man grunted, snapping his hips in a single, blinding lunge. The broad head of his cock punctured her rectum neatly, disappearing into the tortured hole past the thick cap rim. The astounding heat of her anus seared his knob and her poor sphincter tugged and pushed futilely about the neck of the shaft, trying to expel the monstrous intruder.
"YEEEEEEE!! ! " Amy squealed, as the lightning bolt exploded between her cheeks. Nothing that had gone before could have prepared her for the blinding agony she felt at that moment. Her sphincter was tearing! Stretching! Tearing under the awful pressure of the massive cock. Stretching like hot taffy to accommodate the hideous probe. And the burning! The horrible burning!!
Herr Mueller lunged again, quickly, taking advantage of her shock to drive more of his seething male meat up her ass.
As the cock sank halfway to the hilt in her rectum, Amy shrieked, digging her nails into Vincenzo's thighs, pulling her face harder against his angry dick, trying frantically to escape the awesome pain. It was hopeless. Though her legs flailed wildly on either side of Herr Mueller, she could not evade the inhuman impalement that was setting her belly on fire.
As her buttocks jerked and twisted beneath him, attempting to throw off his weight, the big man made a gurgling, chuckling sound. Her desperate writhing was only worsening her position. Every time she bucked and jerked, she skewered herself further on the cock ramming itself inch by inch up into her tightly resisting anus. Finally, she gave a long howling moan as the big man's great, throbbing penis slid the final inch up into the hot rubbery depths of her rectum and his hair-covered testicles slapped viciously against her cunt. For a moment she twitched spasmodically, still grinding her hips in a vain attempt to repulse him, and then she lay still to ease the pain of the cruel and complete invasion of her rectum. It was pointless to resist any further: each throb of her tortured body served only to widen and stretch the tiny cavern to greater and more agonizing dimensions.
"Yes, it's so tight! So fucking tight!" Herr Mueller growled, resisting for a moment despite his raging hunger to begin pumping into her ass at once.
Vincenzo, trembling with lust beside the obscenely coupled pair, was going out of his mind. His fingers slipped around her rib cage to pluck brutally at her belly and breasts, kneading insanely at the soft white flesh as his furious cock bubbled and frothed against his chest. "Let me in!! " he begged.
Herr Mueller glowered at the chauffeur, locking his hands around Amy's hips and rolling the both of them to one side, pulling her over on top of him with her back against his chest. His huge, throbbing cock was still embedded deep in her anus as she lay full length on her back. Her legs splayed out limply on either side of his as a low, pleading mewl slipped from her pain-parted lips.
Vincenzo scrambled into position, straddling the big man's knees, and pushing apart Amy's quivering thighs. As he gazed down at her fork, at the grotesquely huge base of Herr Mueller's cock jammed between her quaking buttocks, he moaned like a kicked dog. Then, grasping his hard, aching cock with both hands, he jerked it down towards the moist, gaping cavern of her cunt.
"NO!! ! " Herr Mueller howled.
Amy whimpered piteously as the vibrations of his roar echoed through her back, through the walls of her tortured rectum.
Vincenzo knelt there, his mouth hanging open, his cock in his hands.
"Eat her first!" the big man ordered. "Eat her pussy while I fuck her ass!"
A flicker of pure dementia passed over the chauffeur's face. Then, holding her knees wide apart with his hands, he thrust his face into her wet pussy, chewing and sucking at her swollen labia, biting her cunt with savage hunger.
"AIEEEEEE!! " Amy wailed, as the cruelly nipping teeth attacked her gaping vagina. When she reflexively jerked back, trying to escape the awful ravagement, she only succeeded in planting the cock in her anus more deeply.
Then Herr Mueller started fucking her. With rapid flips of his hips, he forced his cock to slide through the grip of her widely-stretched rectum.
The burning! The burning!! Amy's face was twisted in a grimace of terrible agony; her heels thumped pathetically against the floor, as the waves of pain rasped up her violated channel.
"Unnff! Unnff!" the big man grunted, thrusting hungrily into the searing heat of her anus, reveling in the feel of her narrow passage slipping over his blood-thickened cock. He reached in under her armpits and caught both her breasts up in his hands, pinching and twisting the horribly inflamed nipples with his fingers, mauling the supple slopes of her tits as he ravaged her ass.
Vincenzo growled and snorted at her pussy, licking up the steady flow of her sticky juice, pushing his tongue into the depths of her vagina. He pulled back, gasping, his face awash with her lubricant. "I can feel it!" he wailed. "I can feel your cock right through the wall of her cunt. I can feel it moving against my tongue!! "
As the squirming tongue thrust itself back into her pussy, sweeping over the quivering walls, rubbing her hard clit, the cock in Amy's anus began to move faster, with more authority. It felt like he had finally ruptured her, broken her sphincter. There was nothing to resist him any more, nothing to even slow the savage thrusts. His gigantic length of meat raged up her pore, pistoning in and out in powerful tip to root lunges. Amy wailed, but even she could not hear it, not over the horrid, animal gruntings and groanings, the snorting and snuffling of the beasts who assaulted her. She lay on Herr Mueller's hard belly, her entire body trembling from the ruthless attack.
Vincenzo went hard at her pussy, bobbing his head between her obscenely spread thighs, forcing his tongue to dip in and out of her pussy. He paid special attention to her clit, swirling his tongue tip over it, mashing his mouth down hard to her gash, trying wildly to get his snapping teeth on it. It was too much for the chauffeur to bear. Not only was he assailed by the feel of her convulsing pussy against his face, by the feel of her slick juice washing over his face, but by the scent of her dick-ravaged anus wafting up his nostrils, by the feel of Herr Mueller's hairy balls moving against his chin as the big man thrust and thrust and thrust.
"Let me have it!! Let me have her cunt!! ! " the chauffeur cried, his cock pounding against his chest, spitting long streams of premature cum over the top of his thighs.
"Well, bitch?! ! " Herr Mueller growled in her ear, plunging his cock in to the root, mashing her breasts up into her collarbones.
"NOOOOOOO!! ! " Amy screeched.
"Take her! TAKE HER!! " the big man bellowed.
Vincenzo was on her in a blink. He dragged his drooling cock down from his sternum and stuffed it straight up into the seething cavern of her cunt.
Gritting her teeth, the doubly skewered Amy tried to utter no sound, but a shrill squeal forced itself from her throat as the second man's rock hard penis slithered up inside her quaking belly to join the big man's staff already buried balls deep in her rectum. She lay there groaning with pain and shame, sandwiched obscenely between two degenerate sex maniacs, impaled on their two cocks with only the thin wall of flesh between her anus and cunt separating the throbbing lengths of meat.
Vincenzo, already inflamed with lust from witnessing his master's cruel rape of her anus, began to fuck furiously into Amy's hot, wet pussy while his companion started thrusting up from beneath her with hard, long strokes into the widely stretched depths of her rectum. Almost immediately, the two lust-crazed animals were hitting a reciprocating rhythm, one lunging while the other retreated, and vice versa; they buffeted her smooth, silky body between them like a sack of soft, resilient foam rubber, the throbbing poles of flesh shafting viciously into her like twin battering rams.
Amy let out a long, quavering cry of anguish, a cry that was made to vibrate, to undulate by the impacts of the mens' cocks jamming into her. The pain of the double ravishment was unimaginable; the shame of the terrible violation was even worse. They were taking her, raping her, using her tender orifices with savage abandon as if they owned her, as if she were nothing but a disposable thing, a thing to squirt their semen into and then throw away. There was not an instant when she was not impaled on one or the other of the two cocks, not an instant when one or the other wasn't moving inside her pushing into her, pulling out. She could feel the battered lips of her vagina drawing back with Vincenzo's cock on the out-stroke, only to be stuffed back inside as he plunged it home again, deep int her soft, white belly. And then the same thing was happening with the taut opening of her distended anus as Herr Mueller screwed into it from below with demonic fury.
The pistoning cocks of the two men thrust into her faster and faster, surging full length up her stretched passages on every lunge. The broad head of Vincenzo's penis battered her poor clit, pulling at it on each backstroke, pushing at it on every thrust. Battering, buffeting, faster and faster ... and then, suddenly, Amy reared up convulsively between them, her mouth opening to emit a long, wailing cry of subservience and shame.
JOY! Joy, like a fountain, splashed over her loins. Joy, as the wetly slipping bulb massaged her clit. JOY, OUT OF PLACE! JOY, UNWELCOME! They were making her do it!! ! Making her cum!! ! In that terrible next second, Amy realized that her body was about to make the final betrayal, the ultimate submission. She was truly helpless, not only physically, but mentally; she could not make the pleasure stop. The realization that the thing she most wanted and most feared was going to happen to matter what she did, had a strange, astonishing effect on her. The wild twinges of unadmitted desire that she'd been smothering all along, suddenly exploded in her plundered loins, taking control of her mind and body. The low whining moans gargling in her throat altered subtly to whimpers of passionate pleading. She felt all at once free to ... yes, to exult in the rape of her body! It was a strange kind of exultation, engendered by the very helplessness of her position, but the wantonly lewd thought that she was being fucked half to death by two men at once. But whatever it was, it was exciting beyond her wildest imaginings. And the guilt she felt because of that excitement served only to increase the lustful sensations flaming through her veins.
Her hips began to thrust backwards to meet the plunging strokes of Herr Mueller's cock crammed into her rectum ... and then forward again to swallow the whole wet length of Vincenzo's staff in her suddenly scalding pussy. Her entire body undulated wildly between the two men and her buttocks began a salacious gyrating rhythm of their own, squirming in desperate abandoned circles between the two, gleaming, impaling rods.
"Oooooooh!! ! Uhhhhhhhh!! ! Ooooooooh!! ! " she chanted in ecstasy. "Oooooooh!! ! Uhhhh-hhh!! ! Oooooooooh!! ! " Over and over, in time with the pile-driving thrusts into her cunt and rectum.
Even as the wildly flipping cock of Vincenzo brought wave after wave of pleasure crashing over her cunt, as the familiar vista of tropical sunset popped into view inside her skull, the frenzied chauffeur began biting and sucking her breasts, the breasts that Herr Mueller kneaded and squeezed with his massive hands.
"NnnnnarghT!" Vincenzo growled, nipping at the swollen, tender nipples that his master offered up to him.
"OOOOOOOOH!! ! ! " Amy shrieked, shifting her hips forward and back between the hard driving cocks, greedily taking all the hot, stiff meat they had to give her. She was running towards the great orange ball ... and for the first time in her life, she was gaining on it. It loomed larger and larger with every thrust, every rasp of penis over her wet clit. She could smell the awful, compost heap stench of the rutting men, of her own broached pussy and anus, the smell of their mingled sweat, which lubricated the fiery contact of their bodies, and it didn't disgust her ... she reveled in it.
Wilder and wilder the trio became, heaving and groaning and plunging on the floor with ever-increasing fury as their animal grunts of desire mingled with the obscene suck and slap of flesh on naked flesh in a mounting crescendo of abandon.
In Amy's pleasure-ravaged brain, the actual sounds of their frantic lovemaking became the sounds of her fuck dream. The moist slapping of their sweaty bodies became the sound of her bare feet as she ran headlong down the sand, headlong towards the immense orange ball of the setting sun.
"Sweet Jesus!" Vincenzo croaked, as the whole length of her pussy clamped down on his jabbing cock, then relaxed, then clamped, then relaxed. He drove his rigid meat into her convulsing pussy, wheezing as it milked and teased the tingles of joy from his bulb.
Under her, and getting the benefit of those same, powerful muscular contractions, was Hen-Mueller. Her rectum strangled his thrusting cock, wringing it out like an old dishcloth. He, too, began driving harder, forgetting about rhythm, about the other dick shoving up into her. He fucked into her at will, hunching as fast as he could.
The orange bah grew and grew, until it filled Amy's skull with blinding radiance and awesome heat. She rushed towards it, down the golden path it made on the gently lapping water. The warm liquid splashed up over her ankles, her thighs, and she kept on going, the sounds of the sea birds ringing in her ears.
"YEEEEEEE!! ! " she screamed, bucking between them. "YEEEEEEE!! ! "
The two men groaned as one as her quivering sphincters closed down on their jabbing cocks like an iron fist in a hot buttered velvet glove.
Amy was hip deep, the warm water lapping up against her naked pussy, when it happened. She started falling. Falling into the orange ball.
"Oh, man! MAN!" Vincenzo howled, as his penis was sucked and milked by powerful cuntal spasms, by orgasmic spasms.
"Cum, you bitch! CUM!! ! " Herr Mueller cried into her ear.
But Amy could not hear. There was only the sound of air against her falling body, the feel of the terrible heat between her legs. As Amy tumbled into her own personal sun, as the searing solar firestorm roasted her consciousness, she did begin to orgasm. It came from the bottom of her being, from the tortured ring of her anus, sweeping up over her cock ravaged pussy, engulfing her body in corruscating showers of pleasure.
"Yes!! ! " shrieked a voice much like Amy's, a voice that used Amy's throat. "MORE, I'M CUMMING!! DON'T STOP!! PLEASE, DON'T
STOP!! ! KEEP ON! FUCK ME! FUCK ME!! ! "
The old Amy, the Amy who was revolted at the thought of semen touching her body, the Amy who had to wash herself with scalding water every time someone touched her with desire, the Amy who could never, never orgasm, was gone. She would never return to the small, smooth, shapely body. The new occupant, also known as Amy, was out of her mind with desire, sobbing out an orgasm that seemed as though it would never end, begging and pleading with the grunting men to go on and on and on.
Vincenzo tried to maintain, tried to hold back, to drag out her climax to the absolute limit, but her wild cuntal quivering, her screeching cries of desire were too much for him.
"UHHH!" he shouted, his exclamation one of surprise and delight as the sudden, racking joy exploded in his cock. He pushed his cock to the back of her womb, pressing it against the hot, wet wall.
Even as the first powerful spurt of semen pulsed up the length of his cock, Amy was jerking between them. "NOOO!" she bawled. "SPRAY ME!! ! SPRAY ME!! ! "
The chauffeur ripped his orgasming cock from her pussy, grabbing it by the neck as it started to lurch up to his chest. The instant his gleaming bulb cleared her cunt, it shot a thick white comet of cum up over her yawning gash, over her sweaty tummy, over the tits so tightly squashed in Hen-Mueller's hands.
"YESSSSS!! ! " she whinnied, as the hot, sticky fluid spattered her face, her cheeks, lips, chin. She opened her mouth wide and waggled her tongue, catching the pearly gobbets as they continued to rain down upon her.
Vincenzo made sure the rain continued. He pumped his spurting cock through his fist, sending volley after volley splashing over her face, tits, belly and cunt.
The sight of Vincenzo's orgasming, the feel of Amy's rectum clutching the root of his cock, put Hen Mueller over the brink as well. He jerked up into her buttocks with a savage lunge, pumping the hot, thick sperm into her heaving guts.
"YEEEEEE!! ! " Amy yelled, clawing the air, as the molten seed flooded her bowels, filling her rectum with jet after jet of white lava. She humped back into the big man's thrusts with a vengeance, jamming the huge dick up her anus, twisting and churning her hips to squeeze every last drop of cum from it.
Finally, the three of them collapsed into a spent and thoroughly satiated tangle of limbs. They lay like that for a long time, breathing deeply. Then Hen Mueller pulled his softening cock from her anus, undamming a torrent of white goo. He struggled out from under the unmoving body of Amy and stood up.
"Hey!" he said, prodding Vincenzo with his foot. "Hey, get up."
Vincenzo opened his eyes and blinked, then groaned.
"I said, 'Get up!"' the big man repeated, giving the prostrate man a harder kick.
"Owww!" the chauffeur complained. "All right! All right!" He got to his feet, rubbing the spot where he'd been kicked.
"There's still a lot to be done before my client arrives," Herr Mueller said, gazing down at the spread-legged, thoroughly ravished form of Amy. "This bitch must be bathed, perfumed and prepared for him."
"I understand," Vincenzo said, leering down at the white strands of his cum that adorned the lovely woman's hair, her face, her torso.
"I hope so, for your sake," the big man said. "I enjoyed breaking this one in, but don't let that go to your head. From now on, they come to-me ready, understand?! "
"Yes, sir," Vincenzo said, contritely.
Herr Mueller looked down at her again and smiled. "But I did do an excellent job on her, even if I do say so myself."
"Excellent!" echoed the chauffeur.
Herr Mueller quickly knelt down and stroked Amy's face. She opened her eyes at his touch, but their stare was glazed, vacant.
"You are ready for Mr. Boomootu, aren't you, bitch?" he asked.
The expression in Amy's eyes did not change, nor did she speak, but the corners of her mouth turned up in a small, contented smile.
