David Brooks set down his empty glass and leaned back on the couch. "Undress, Morgana."
The dark woman with the great flowing mass of black hair flashed him a swift smile of pure lechery. Then she rose from where she'd been sitting beside him on the couch. Stepping directly in front of David, Morgana met his gaze with her soft eyes. They were a deep chocolate, nearly black; dark as mystery.
Then she backed away, pace after swaying pace, without taking her gaze off his steady, blue-eyed stare.
Her eyes on his, the big woman tugged open the sash of the long, red satin robe he had given her. The two ends of the cord swished down to dangle along the vertical ridges in the gown, where her full thighs pressed the fabric from within. She raised her arms, very slowly, extending them gradually from her body. The gleaming gown rippled, shimmered, shifted, and whispered open. A long vertical gap appeared.
His eyes dropped from hers to take in the stirring glimpses of her luscious body. The dark cleavage of her high-mounded breasts, rising above the black center of her bra; a line of tawny flesh below, swelling into her rounded belly, holed with a round dark navel like an unexplored crater; a flash of jet-black panties; the very inner curves of her fleshy thighs.
Her hands moved in to spread the gap between the two sides of her open robe. More and more of her big amber-hued body was revealed to his intent gaze.
Buttery flesh seemed to overflow everywhere, especially from her straining bra. Morgana : a big woman, a big-titted and big-hipped woman, her tawny, lusty curves hardly contained in the shining black bra and tight-banded panties.
Quite a contrast from his willowy blond wife!
She peeled the gown back over her shoulders and put her arms back, and straight down. A rushing, rustling torrent of red satin cascaded to the floor and she stood before him in her brief underwear.
She wore fancily figured black stockings. The supporting straps rose up her roundly swelling columns of thighs to vanish under the black nylon of her panties. Even low-slung as they were, they covered her garter belt. They also bulged fantastically, the fabric turned shiny by the excitingly swelling protrusion of her love mound.
Her mouth spread into another smile. Then she turned, turned and bent, slowly. Her voluptuous body wove from side to side in a hypnotically slow, sensuous sway as she bent forward with her back to him. The black band of her panties tightened more and more across the prominently bulging cheeks of her voluptuously ripe butt. The almost transparent black nylon was snugged tight, and as she bent, the elastic leg bands eased upward to reveal a bulge of tan flesh below the thin bands.
His mouth went dry and he licked his lips. His penis firmed and began thickening and hardening up into a turgid hammer. His pants started to grow uncomfortably tight.
Putting back both hands, the lushly formed woman slipped her thumbs into the tops of her black briefs, where they cut into her hips and pushed up a sexy ridge of strained flesh. She continued her sensuous sway while she pushed her panties down, slowly exposing more and more of the deep dark crack splitting her ass into two big rolling halves.
She stopped with the deep crease and its jutting frames only partially revealed. She straightened, still with deliberately provocative slowness. Then she turned back to face him. Again her dark eyes attached themselves to his. She reached back and opened the double catches of her broad-strapped bra.
He watched it sag slightly as it came loose. She lowered her arms and it eased down a bit more. The deeply tan mounds above its black cups rippled excitingly with her breathing.
With the precision slowness of a dancer, she began bending forward. The two halves of her bra strap swung down and around. Her big breasts were jammed together as she moved her arms inward, bringing her palms together. The shoulder straps hesitated, started to slide, plummeted down her arms.
Her bra fluttered to the floor.
The flowing globes of her tits jumped out naked.
She straightened, and the curvaceous immensity of her chest became long, pointed cylinders of tremulously swaying, rippling flesh, each tipped with great dark halos and nipples so dark they looked like smooth, polished rubies.
She smiled at him again. She loved this slow teasing strip as much as he did, and they both knew it.
He returned her smile, puckered his lips, and mimicked a long-distance kiss to each juicy-looking crest of her breasts. Instantly she clapped her hands over them. Their flesh jiggled liquidly with the smacking impacts. Her fingers moved and her palms pressed as though crushing his kisses into the towering hills of her bosom.
Again she showed him her back. Again she bent partially. And once again she hooked her thumbs into the band of her panties. Swaying wantonly from side to side, she backed toward him as she pulled the black nylon down over her bouncy, broad pair of ass cheeks until they were completely naked and she had to bend to force the nylon panties over her rounded calves.
The big tan bulges of her deeply cleft butt thrust up inches from his face. He could not resist. Clapping a hand to each taut-skinned, perfect hemisphere, he tugged her back and began trailing kisses all over her upturned ass. She shuddered, sighed, shuddered again when his hand slid in to press the rounded plumpness of her bushy mound. Finding the softly yielding furrow easily, he let his fingers ease up it and roll over the rubbery little node of her clitoris.
The warm, musky smell of woman teased his nostrils, and he felt a ready dampness beneath his fingers.
"Oh, my darling," she sighed, with still another shudder.
She straightened and whirled to bend over the seated man, clasp his lean face in both hands, and press her lips warmly to his. Hers drifted apart. Squirming in sensual pleasure and aroused desire, she sent her warm tongue darting in and out of his mouth.
His hands came up to her dangling breasts. They were huge tits, curved, swollen, and unbelievably tempting. He worked on the heavy pendants, caressing, massaging, soothing the soft skin and firm flesh. His sexy attentions soon had her nipples feeling all tight and diamond hard.
Her mouth jetted low-throated moans into his as her senses converged to concentrate on the tingling alertness of her tit tips. The aroused peaks stood up hard and fat.
"Do you want to be sucked?" he asked into her mouth.
She was trembling and revolving her hips. "No!"
"Don't want your sweet pussy eaten?"
She shuddered tumultuously, but the answer was the same. "No!"
"Don't want this" he shoved his tongue between her lips and wiggled it inside her gasping mouth" in between those fat hot cunt lips of yours?"
His hand found those thick pliant lips, pressed and squeezed them. Flesh like oiled silk seemed to ooze between his fingers.
Another shiver. "No. No-stop!"
"Stop? Jesus Christ you hot-cunted witch, what do you want?"
"I want you to make my hot cunt hotter! I want you to fuck me!" she told him intensely. "I want that lightning rod in me, to the balls! It has been too long. I want every inch of your cock in me, up my pussy, and I want you on me, crush me, squash me under you!"
He was enormously excited by her fierce outburst, but he teased, "You can't wait?"
The reply was a swiftly grasping hand. Its closing on the great bulge in his crotch was enough to make his rapidly burgeoning prick tear clear through his pants. He felt pain on the swollen crown. But still he teased: "You don't even want my mouth on you, my tongue in you . .. suppose I want yours on me?"
She shivered. "Please, David, lover! I will do it later. I will suck both our juices off your beautiful cannon. I will lick your ass and suck your balls-but please, now, fuck me now!"
"Hit the floor."
She chewed at his lips a last time, straightened, backed hurriedly away, and hit the floor. Her butt thumped. Her eyes stared up at him as he rose, scorching him with a torrid look that bespoke frenzied passion. Her knees rose, her legs bending, then spread wide to reveal the tantalizing V of her crotch, covered with gleaming black hair.
He gazed down at that black mountain of lust as his fingers rushed down the front of his shirt.
She had a fantastic pussy. Her full hips cradled a big enticing bulge crowned with a profusion of black curls. The mat of hair rode a long, strongly swelling hillock that jutted out dramatically from the gradual swell of her belly. Within that black jungle he could just see -dropping his shirt and unbuckling his belt -fat, puffy lips of a very dark, brownish-tinged pink.
His pants dropped. She stared at the straining pouch of his white briefs.
His shorts dropped. Big and hard and long, his cock jumped out and loomed over her like a horizontal flagpole halfway up a high, slender building. She moaned and shifted her weight from one big curving ass cheek to the other, rocking her parted knees and the sable-furred cradle of her crotch. Lifting her arms, she extended her hands to him.
He dropped to his knees between her widely parted thighs with a jar that made his rampant, blood-swollen cock jump wildly. Her hand rushed out to grasp it.
"Ah! Mother of God-like hot iron! Why does it not tear me open?"
He smiled. "Your cunt was made for fucking, nothing else. It was made for me-and I'm going to fuck you bowlegged."
She jiggled her ass and forced her thighs still farther apart, forcing her pussy to pop pinkly open. "Do! Fill me up and fuck me bowlegged!"
He moved a little closer, on his knees. Then he dropped over her. His palms slapped down beside her upper arms.
"You fill you up."
Her white teeth flashed in a smile of pure pleasure. Her hand tightened on his beautiful rammer and tugged. The hot, round-swollen head cruised over her thick black sporran. The feel of that soft bush and the heat of her crotch against his supersensitive glans fired and inspired him. She only tucked it in. He rammed.
He felt her tremble beneath him as he pushed the swollen corona past the liquid-saturated folds of her deeply pink, open cunt. She groaned loudly. His single quick lunge had spurred his thick cock all the way between her open, wet lips and deep up her guts.
Tumultuous sexual response surged in her. Heat flared through the bursting buds of her breasts and into her belly. She grabbed him with anxious slapping hands.
Now he was forcing it deeper and deeper up her slit with swift, short prodding thrusts. The soft fleshy ridges formed folds deep inside her, parted, like her mouth, in abandoned ecstasy and welcome.
She was not still. She was not that kind of woman. She was not fucked by her man; she fucked with him. She moved strongly, grinding and twisting her pussy up onto his hard-driving prick, returning his strong fucking with gyrating hips.
The entire length of his inflamed truncheon was in her now, sunk to the balls in her slippery cleft. He lifted himself above her on his hands, soaking himself in the wet, raw inner flesh of that deep gorge.
"Ah-ungh!" she gasped. Her black eyes sparkled. "I've got it all!"
He pulled it half out and rammed it back with a jarring blow to her pubis. "I think you've got it all, yeah."
She smiled and writhed sinuously beneath him, her vulva throbbing and her body meeting his in happily unbridled lust. Her movements made certain he felt every inner wall of her cunt rubbing his sensitive cock head, while she gloried in that slippery abrasion.
He remained motionless, poised above her on palms and knees, while she screwed herself.
Her sweaty buttocks made soft swishing noises on the carpet, rumpling it as she jerked. Violent thrills tingled through her torrid torso. She surged her belly, making ecstatic sounds deep in her throat and filling the thirsty hollow of her womb with hard, throbbing cock.
She treated herself to the marvelous sensation of fucking herself, of hot male meat gliding hotly in and out of the wet, gushing slit she churned up and down.
He hung there above her while she plunged up and down, until he felt the strain in his arms and saw that she was tiring.
Then he began spiking it to her.
His body moved hard, ramming, driving himself deep into the lusty hole of her loins. He cushioned himself on the warm strutting supports of her breasts as his body moved strongly up and down on hers.
Whimpering and whining for more, she squirmed beneath him. Each breath burst from her in a gasp. Her curling fingers slickened over his back and clutched at his driving butt while he drove her own superbly padded ass down into the carpet with the force of his thrust. His hands squeezed her full hips, starting to slide in their sweat.
Their bodies pounded at each other, almost viciously in the wild abandon of sexual need.
Her pussy depths contracted around him in rippling, undulant waves that seemed to pump his cock.
Without breaking for a moment the rhythm dictated by unquenched desire, he worked a hand under her and delved his fingers into the sweat-slick crease of her ass.
"Ah-uh-agh!" she gasped. "Put it in! Put it in!"
She twisted and turned, sighing and gasping. Sweat ran off her panting body. Sweat ran down her hot rearward crack, over his fingers. She squirmed her hips up to make it easier for him-and to swallow his pleasuring length all the way up her belly, trying to suck in the hairy scrotum as well.
With his cock all the way up her vaginal channel, he pushed his middle finger against the puckered portal to her bowels. It was sweat slick. His finger was sweat slick. He felt her anus squeeze, but he grinned and pushed.
"Ahhhhhhhh . . ." she gasped out. Her hands clutched him and she stiffened.
Soft pink membranes expanded with slow reluctance to admit the stiff length of his invading finger. With her cunt completely cock stoppered, his finger felt as big as another swollen prick coming up her back. She worked to control the frantic fearful cringing and tightening of the little ring of her asshole.
Then his palm jammed up against the voluptuous, curved mounds of her buttocks. His longest finger was implanted all the way up her asshole. His prick was anchored all the way up her cunthole.
She shuddered and lay otherwise very, very still while her body accustomed itself to the dual piercing.
Muscles relaxed. Membranous walls fluttered and stretched to loosen up. Secretions flowed.
"Ah, God," she gasped tightly. Her hands roamed lovingly over him. Her head suddenly jerked up and she planted a full-lipped kiss on his left nipple. Then her head fell back. "Ah, God, I love you, Americano! Now . . . now . . . ball me blind!"
He tried. He drove cock and finger repeatedly into violently twitching cunt and squirming rectum, massaging the quaking tissue walls. He could feel the bulging hardness of his cock against his entrenched finger as though they were separated only by an expensive glove.
He began pounding up and down, spreading her soft inner walls with hard, massive thrusts of his cock's throbbing great knob. Every movement he made scored her deeply. Every stroke rammed her rectal tunnel down on his finger. Her buttocks mashed out and the finger drove deep. A minor orgasm made her quiver.
Warm inner juices laved the deeply planted sex pole in the heat of her frothing pussy. Fused together in a wet pulsing mass of sweating writhing flesh, they screwed each other with convulsive jerks of their pounding bodies.
He wiggled his ass-held finger.
"Ah! Ah! Keep it in, keep it in deep, deep . . . I am ... I am going . . . I . . . a-a-ahhHHHH!"
The dual piercing and probing of her body hurled her over the edge. A heavy shudder seized her entire body and she hit the blissful summit.
He watched the long-shuddering rapture come and go as her desire was slaked. He felt every twitch and tremor that ran through her. The big orgasm tightened her asshole around his finger and her cunt around his cock.
Her beautiful culmination wound down slowly. It left her drenched with sweat, dizzy.
He was seized with a wild ache to fuck her blind and fill her with squirts of hot, sticky fluid. He rammed hard, ravishing her contracting vagina that made her grunt with every penetrating stab of his prick up her sated gash His pounding, humping body shoved it in and out until its swollen length was coated and glistening with her love fluids. The soft, fluid-saturated folds encased the jabbing pole of his rigid and thick flesh like a tailor-made cock sheath.
He felt the sudden new sensitiveness in the head of his penis, the tightening up of his whole sweat-soaked nut sac. It was happening, and he went totally still again, raising himself above her on his palms.
"Fuck it off!"
Her face leaped into a smile like a neon sign. Closely watching his face for the final signs of his coming, she began slamming her body up and down. The liquid silk of her palpitating inner cunt rushed up and down his swelling, expanding cock shaft.
She saw his eyes bulge, his face tighten. He shivered and went all stiff. Then he groaned.
He came, groaning and shuddering and immersing her cunt in semen as icy sparks jolted from his crotch. He drenched her with the milk of his balls, squirting it inside her in strong muscle pulses.
Then he sagged down onto her, feeling as though his whole body was flowing down into the orgasm-relaxed softness of hers. She held him happily, and both of them felt the separation when his blown prick slid limply out of her cum-drooling gash.
It was too hot, they were too sweaty, and he had to roll from her. He lay on his back on the rug of her apartment and gazed unseeingly at the ceiling.
"There is some very cold beer," she said, raising herself on one elbow. One big breast slapped his arm and trailed sweatily over it.
"I would love a very cold beer," he told her.
She smiled and bent to kiss his forehead. "I will get it. Shall I put something on?"
He slid a hand over her naked haunch. "Absolutely not. Stay naked. I don't have to go yet."
She kissed him again and got up to go for his beer. Her big ass cheeks wagged and juddered. Semen drooled stickily down the dusky smoothness of her inner thigh.
CHAPTER TWO
Raul Herrera was filling in time by hand drafting a memo about the party's progress in Espania. He had just glanced at his watch for the tenth time in the past half-hour when he heard Edmunto's car pull up.
Raul himself met the balding man at the front door.
Edmunto didn't waste time with the pleasantries. Grinning broadly, he said, "Comrade Herrera! Ambassador Brooks is with his mistress!"
Raul allowed his thin, taut face to crease in a smile. "Good. Go in and pour yourself a drink until I return. I am going to advise the Senora Brooks at once!"
"Careful," Edmunto said, as his employer started across the porch in the direction of the gleaming Mercedes parked near his big country house. "The princes may faint at news that her husband abandons such a beautiful, so-slim aristocratic woman at home while he fucks one of our lusty Espanian women . . . and one of peasant stock, at that!"
The thin Herrera glanced back. "Careful yourself, Edmunto. One does not refer to peasants and aristocrats these days . . . comrade!"
Edmunto looked abashed. "I am sorry, comrade. A . . . slip of the tongue. Old habits, you know."
Raul Herrera said nothing. The door of the expensive German car closed behind him with a solid chung. Then he backed around and drove rapidly down his driveway.
"Turd," Edmunto muttered, entering the big house. "I shall drink his best-just hide another bottle in the car. He has so much from his Russian masters!"
He went to Herrera's royally stocked liquor cabinet, trying to visualize what the tall and slender Yanqui ambassador would be doing right now with his big, supersexy mistress. What a fool, Edmunto thought. Big black-haired Espanian women were plentiful. But a slim and regal blond beauty such as Claudine Brooks-why would a man leave her bed for the likes of Morgana?
"Do you ever do this sort of thing with that blond statue you're married to, David querido?" Morgana asked. She writhed a little as he forced still more of the thin nylon of her panties up between her damp labia and into her slippery slit.
"The Princess? Don't be silly. She's a lady. She wears it like a badge. Twenty-four hours a day, Claudine is a lady. That's why I'm here with you, querida, and you know it."
"Missionary position?" she pursued. She trembled. Now he was working his wet tongue into her navel and playing lingually with the deep depression.
"Missionary position, si," David confirmed, in an exasperated tone. "Two or three times a month, that is, when we . . . get together."
She sighed and slid her hand in between his thighs. "You are a hot-blooded man, David, a macho lover. A man who needs loving, and sex . . . and who needs a woman whose blood runs hot."
"Like you." Half-turning her voluptuous, tawny body, he let his hand wander up the silky backs of her thighs to the great divide.
She shuddered violently as he pulled down the wet panties and his fingers crept over the full, voluptuous curves of her naked haunches.
"Yes! Like me! Why-ah! Uh-um! Be careful, please .. . just... put it in a-uh! Ummm! -a little at a ti-i-i-ime! Oh, lover!" A great shudder rippled the ripe luxury of her body. "Why did you . . . marry her?"
"You being pushy, luv?" he asked, gently raping her throbbing anus with a stiffened finger that imitated a long slim penis. He watched the quake and twitch of her well-padded buttocks.
"Um-ahhhh! No, no, my darling. I make no demands . . . have I ever?" Without waiting for him to answer, she said, "No, I only wonder. She is so much more beautiful, and I am so happy to have you. It does not seem a marriage of passion, yours and your Claudine's."
He thought about what she'd said, while continuing to slide his finger steadily in and out of the intense heat of her tight ass slot.
He could feel it growing less and less tight, loosening up as his gently sawing finger tranquilized her anal sphincter and persuaded it to relax. Good. It was buggery he wanted this second time, not the normal black-bushed slash of her cunt.
He loved watching his cock moving in and out between the swelling tan mounds of her voluptuously ripe butt. He loved the feel of it, the extreme tightness around his prick and the fine padding cushions her buttocks provided for his driving crotch. And he knew she loved it, too. She was his mistress precisely because she loved sex, loved men, loved cock-and loved it up the back. Her opulently curved body; the rich waving mass of her black hair; the swell of her big jiggly tits, like footballs wrapped in satin; the womanly girth of her hips; and her juicy, jutting behind . . . those were part of it too. But many women looked sexy. Not all of them lived up to the promise of their bodies, or even to the enticing way they decorated themselves. Morgana, though, was born for sex. And she lived for it.
Probing her relaxing, opening asshole with his finger, David Brooks answered her question about his wife, Claudine . . . the Princess.
"I was twenty-one when I went to work for a company back in the United States," he said. "Nine years later I was vice-president. And still single. A man named Attenborough founded that company, and the family still owns forty percent of it-and many millions of dollars. My wife Claudine was an Attenborough."
Is an Attenborough, he thought. Once an Attenborough, always an Attenborough. It's a way of life, a state of mind, a permanent blessing . . . and a curse.
"The Princess is only a nickname, because of the way she looks and acts."
"You married her for her money?"
He slapped one juicy ass cheek and watched it jiggle. "It was ... an alliance. Both of us wanted it. Obviously I was going to be president of that company. Her father-and more importantly, her grandfather-wanted me in the family. And I certainly wasn't against marrying the most beautiful Attenborough in three generations!"
She writhed on the bed, sighing, not even tensing up as she felt another finger join the first up the warm, narrow, throbbing sheath of her anus. It pushed on, ignoring the mild threat of her sphincter, and both fingers eased on into her rectum. "I am sorry I said that about the money, lover. But if you were to be president of a company in los Estados Unidos, why did you come to South America?"
"On orders of my government," he chuckled. "Both the Attenboroughs and I made nice contributions to our president's campaign. I was offered this job. We talked about it
"
"You and the Attenboroughs."
"Yes. And I accepted it."
She sighed, squirming contentedly on the bed like a giant purring cat while his fingers searched for her bowels. "Well. She does make an extremely handsome ambassador's wife. She must have been the most beautiful woman in America." Most beautiful ice statue, she was thinking.
"Close to it, I suppose. And one of the wealthiest. And we are happy. I like your country, Morgana, and Claudine likes being the wife of the ambassador to Espania."
"Um . . . oh . . . you are getting to me ... so much, so much! I want you in me, lover, soon! But-Espania is the smallest country in South America."
He chuckled. "One has to start somewhere, darling. Monaco is tiny, too . . . but Claudine would love for us to be assigned there. She's been told too many times how much she resembles Princess Grace. I think Claudine is even sorry she's so . . . Christ. She deemphasizes her breasts and round fanny."
"Are her tits as big as mine?"
"No, Morgana." With his other hand, he reached under to stroke through her full bush of jet-black pubic hair.
"Is her ass as round as mine?"
"No, Morgana." He massaged the soft indentation of the gorge between her cunt lips.
She wagged her hips. "Ah-oh, oh, amante, lover! And does she like fingers in her, like me?"
"No, Morgana." He slipped two into her cunt. Turning his wrists, he rubbed the two fingers embedded in her asshole against its slippery floor, and the two up her silky cunt against its upper surface. He felt his own fingers, sliding over each other, separated only by slippery inner membranes like oiled satin.
She groaned aloud and arched her back, lifting her head and moving it slowly to and fro.
"And ... ah!-does she . . . like cock up her ass, lover?"
"No, Morgana." I mean I don't know, he thought. How'd I ever find out with a woman like Claudine? She even acts like a princess in the bedroom!
He wore a huge new hard-on now, like a vein-decorated club standing before him. Just her words made it jump and darken with inflowing blood.
"Well, I do!" Morgana husked out throatily. "And you have got me so hot my ass sizzles and burns! Please . . . please fuck me now, mi amante!"
He smiled, more than pleased at her impassioned invitation.
"Get it up and ready then," he told her harshly. His throat was clogged with lust.
He watched while she moved to obey, swiftly. In an instant she was on hands and knees. Her distended, long tits dangled like rich pendants beneath her. With her crack aimed straight at him, she waved the jutting half-moons of her ass in the air.
A jolt of scorching lust blazed through him and tightened up the loaded nut sac that felt like a heavy weight dragging at his groin. The wagging of her sexy haunches enticed him. His cock yearned out in a heaving erection that pushed toward the so-tiny back hole between those exciting cheeks. He watched them soften and drift even more apart as she made a conscious effort to relax them. The deep valley dividing the flaming cheeks widened as he stared into it. Then he was gazing at the pursed, wrinkled little crater, the outer mouth of her hot pulsing asshole.
With one hand on one big surging cheek and the other guiding his hard, swollen cock, he leaned in to press its head into the furrow of her backside.
She shivered. He was heightening the hot pulsing sensation at her anus by rubbing the silky, swollen crown over the tiny and sensitive opening. As always, the head of his cock felt very hot and very large.
Then he attacked the resisting ring of muscle. She moaned aloud. Slowly, his cock was oozing into her ass.
He pushed and continued pushing until his prick was firmly enclosed in the narrow hole, which throbbed deliciously all around him. He could feel that narrow anal canal yielding up admittance, step by step.
Then his prick drove through her sphincter anus and wallowed in her rectal canal. Its presence in her, even though it hurt a little, was indescribably erotic. But God, it was so huge and it felt so hot!
He held it there a long time while her tender asshole flowered around it. His hands smoothed and caressed constantly over the slightly quivering cheeks of her soft and prominent ass. Then he began to move.
He drew it far back, watching her lipless anal mouth pucker and flow out with the inflamed shaft, stretching out like a virgin cunt that gripped his cock with helpless fervor. Then only the swollen, sensitive knob remained inside her, clenched hotly in the sultry recess and feeling as if a big heated rubber band had been forced tautly over it.
He shoved his cock back up her ass.
Her big rump wiggled high in the air, tensing before the straining discomfort as he forced his bulging, bloated length of tubular masculinity into the splayed cleft of her ass.
He gave her asshole as much strain as it could take, as much straining meat as it could hold.
She was cloven and split and spitted on his turgid fuck pole.
He began ramming, then. He drove his heavy cock into that salacious hole in a passionate ass-fucking that soon had her jerking and bobbing her ass in several directions at once.
He stayed right with her. His prick stayed right in her.
Fiery tingles raced through her and barely recognizable words flowed from her sagging mouth. She began thrashing wildly, bucking back against his pumping prick. The intensely narrow slot swallowed every hot swollen inch of him.
Her luxuriant black locks streamed down in a head-enveloping curtain that swished and shimmered with her movements and his. Hanging long and fat and pointed, her tits swung and jostled, feeling heavier and heavier.
He reached around her to grip and press and fondle them. Gathering up twin fistfuls of heavy-tipped tit, he pressed and manipulated them with a fascinated ardor. She felt the sudden rush of blood into her nipples and they throbbed as they pouted out into impudent hard-ons.
The tight clinging membranes of her asshole were molded tightly around his imbedded cock, a bar of heated iron up her rectum. He stared down the long deep crack to watch every lunging thrust up her back. He knew he was making it throb, and ache-as his balls were beginning to do.
He swung his hips without force, sliding his prick smoothly into the little mouth and listening to the sexy sucking sounds as he slipped deeper into it.
Her writhing, heated body squirmed in reaction to the demanding sexuality of the burning probe in her rectum. It split the sexy hot furrow wide open to accommodate its thickness and length. Her asshole became more and more loose and easy to drill in and out of. Her annular muscles gave way. Her rectum swallowed inch after inch of cock.
He pumped harder and harder, battering into the hot valley of her ass with turgid strokes.
The firm, prim muscles of that delicious anal tube commenced tightening convulsively as she sought to squeeze his potent piston in the soft confines of her asshole. He drove through them with strong pummeling lunges.
Her groans increased in volume. She circled and jogged her hips so as to caress and press his engorged cock every time it plummeted down the long wet tunnel of her back. A roaring flame of lust threatened to gut her. A wave of voluptuary pleasure ran through her and she shivered in delight.
Releasing her mauled, nipple-stabbing knockers, he let them swing loose and heavy beneath her. His hands returned to the corpulent beauty of her juddering, smoothly curved cheeks.
He gripped her butt with fingers and knuckles going white with the force of his clasp.
And he hunched, ass-fucking her in a hard, fast, reckless rhythm until he heard the sounds of her dangling tits, jiggling and slapping each other with sweat-wet, pulpy sounds.
She was jerking, rocking, as he impaled her hot rectum and made her wince at his vitality and the hot skewering width and thickness of his thrusting cock.
She felt it swell to a new throbbing girth. He felt his balls tighten, starting to draw up into his crotch.
She jerked her ass wildly and pumped back and forth. That sudden activity triggered his guts into a volcanic orgasm. Suddenly warm semen squirted up the tender, humid depths of her asshole in violent spasms.
She could feel the pulsing of his cock in the semen-filling tunnel of her asshole, could feel the surging ejaculations of incoming male juice.
He gasped and shuddered, jamming the huge swollen bulk of his spitting cock as far up her rectum as he could get it, shooting warm cum along the humid, gripping pathway to her bowels.
They lay together for a long time after he had emptied his balls. She did not tell him she loved him. She knew that he knew she did. But it was not for her to say the words. He was married to another woman, and she felt, without being able to understand it, that her ambassadorial lover did love his wife. The Princess.
At last it was time for him to begin to dress to go home to that tall, slender blonde. Morgana watched him go with sadness.
Morgana was never to see him again.
CHAPTER THREE
Claudine Brooks, Raul Herrera thought, looked like a bouquet of fresh white roses. Better.
Long, slim legs supported a sleek-hipped, slender-waisted body set off by the sharply concave lines of her breasts. Even late at night, when she had obviously not been expecting visitors and wore a flowing, all-covering negligee, she retained her look and bearing of haughty superiority.
There were both true beauty and a regal aspect in her fine-boned, very fair-skinned face. It was capped by coiled, soft-looking hair, like a moving flash of sunlight.
She made his mouth go dry. How he'd like to have this long-limbed, haughty beauty naked and at his disposal! How magnificent she would be sprawled on a bed, his bed, deliciously disheveled! He tried to picture the unclothed whiteness of her gently rounded hips, the smooth, muscularly taut expanse of her creamy belly. What did her breasts look like? Were they spherical or oval? High and firm or long and soft? And her cunt; how pretty, what a cock teaser it must be, lightly furred with the silken strands of pale hair, the lips like pink blossoms.
He almost smiled. If only the over proud bitch knew what he was thinking! She might show passion then! Her well-known icy cool might be broken then!
In a way, it was now. Her large blue eyes were like sapphires, with the same scintillating stars in their deeps-and just as cold as she stared at him.
"Is that all you have to tell me, Senor Herrera? Is that absolutely it? This is what brought you out on such a rainy night in New Madrid?"
He had to work to maintain the hooded gaze of his narrowed eyes. How intimidating beauty was, when it was aware of itself and its power! "I . . . have told you nothing, Senora Brooks," he said. "I merely asked, Do you know where your husband is?"
She heaved a contemptuous sigh and wrinkles and stress lines rushed up and down her quilted, loose white peignoir. But it was too loose; he still could not make out the shape of her tits beneath. Because of the careful-and expensive -way she dressed, no one knew what her breasts looked like. Except Ambassador David Brooks, Raul thought. But he wondered if even Brooks, the husband of this woman called the Princess, knew what she looked like naked. Beautiful or not, it was significant that this woman's husband kept a big dusky mistress of mixed Spanish and Espanian Indian stock.
"Of course I know where my husband is, Senor Herrera!" Claudine Brooks said. "Do I look such a fool? Do you think that the United States ambassador and his wife would leave themselves open to this sort of visit from the head of Espania's Communist party ... an obvious prelude to blackmail? Come, Senor Herrera, how naive you are! Of course, I know where my husband is. He is in an apartment on Cortez Street, the apartment of his Espanian mistress."
Herrera sat there and stared at her, astonished and feeling totally stupid.
"Dolfo!" she called. "Come and show Senor Herrera out-he is just leaving!"
Dolfo came in to show Raul Herrera out. The head of Espania's Communist party was quite incapable of speech. And he had driven over here and entered with such arrogant confidence, thinking he had at last gained a hold on the American ambassador, and his high-nosed wife.
Then Dolfo returned to the living room, a short, thick man who looked just a bit out of place wearing a black suit and necktie, with his black hair slicked back like a movie actor of the 1930s.
The tall, ethereally beautiful wife of his employer had poured herself a cognac with her own white, slim, long-fingered hands.
"A regrettable interruption, Dolfo," she said with perfect control. "We should never have let him in!" And swirling her brandy, with her long white gown swishing about her, she left the room and seemed to drift up the stairwell.
Dolfo stood at the foot of the steps and licked his lips. Then he hurried off to the pantry. Even Estrelita would do, in a pinch. He'd ram his cock so far up her unwashed snatch she'd taste her own urine in her throat!
Claudine carefully locked the door of her large, white and pale blue bedroom. She warmed her lips with a small sip of cognac, then went to her big closet, opening her peignoir. She peeled it from her shoulders and hung it away amid thousands and thousands of dollars worth of clothing. Beneath the negligee she wore a sleeveless gown of white satin, full length. It gleamed on the high, firm cheeks of her rump and fell in long ripples and folds from the silken firmness of her haunches.
Opening the shoulder closures, she let the gown slither from her pink and white body. After putting it away, she spent several minutes massaging her stomach and then her breasts, smoothing upward. Next she took down her ever-piled hair, and its shimmering blond length would most probably have astounded even people who saw her every day, such as Dolfo and Estrelita.
She occupied herself for fifteen minutes, brushing that beautiful cape of spun gold hair.
From a shoe box in the floor of her closet she withdrew a novel. Its presence there, along with several others, would have been a further source of astonishment for those who thought they knew the Princess. Even her husband, who was terribly busy as well as occupied with his mistress, did not suspect the contents of that shoe box, nor was he aware of his wife's private reading habits.
She sprawled her naked body on the bed and opened her book to the marked place. As always, she read partially aloud, in a faint murmur that was for her ears only. She felt and saw what she was reading more that way.
She had last ceased reading in midscene, because she was already . . . sufficiently aroused by the book.
"She tried to move, to escape. But sharply severe pain singed into her dangling tits. Helpless, forced into her utterly servile role as a vessel for his driving, rutting lust, she could only stand where she was, impaled in both shoulder and rectum, and suffer herself to be skewered in pain and crushing degradation.
"She stood in the open, naked and quivering, with her ass in the air, while he stood straddle-legged behind her and brutally caressed himself in the depths of her quavering, stuffed ass. The rough bark of the tree he'd secured her to, abraded the top of her head."
Claudine's long, slender but nicely rounded thighs drifted farther apart, opening the milky-white cheeks of her upturned rump. The delicate amber-pink hole in its center crease flexed, squeezing convulsively as she read of the vicious ass rape of a helplessly bound girl named Peggy. Holding the book open with one hand, she slid the other beneath her, sliding her fingers over her lightly haired, fleshily thrusting and spongelike mound.
"Her muscles gave way before his driving power. Her internal tissues relaxed. Despite her cries and feeling of horrified humiliation and pain, a glow of pleasure began to warm her belly. She hated it. It infuriated her. Could her body like anything, everything? The glow expanded. Her body quaked. Her breasts shook and slapped wetly together, sweating rubbing beneath her. She moaned steadily, emitting an unending unh-unh-unh-unh noise that served to fire his lust.
"To her horror, the straining girl began to sigh as rapturous feelings built inside her. Realization of her growing pleasure in this defilement was a hateful new pain in her mind.
"Fuck me! she thought. I am your whore make me a whore fuck me-e-e-e. Fuck ME!"
Downstairs in the Brooks house, the heavy-hipped cook, Estrelita, threw her fleshy thighs apart in complete surrender when Dolfo's fingers reached down to cup her bulging vulva.
The black-tufted triangle tickled at his palm as he rubbed it. She sighed and moaned and urged it up to his hand.
"Unh . . . unh ... ah, fuck me, fuck me!"
Dolfo grinned, parted her juicy cunt lips. One hairy finger tickled its teasing way in between the moist dark-fleshed flanges, seeking the treasure-trove of her musky sex. She grunted when it slithered up her cunt, grunted again and sagged back on the kitchen table when he began to move that finger vigorously in and out.
She was secreting vaginal fluid in streamlets, and he thrust a second finger into her with slithering ease. Then a third. Lying back on the table, she flexed her hips against his palm, sighing in libidinous pleasure and need as she sucked his questing fingers strongly, down inside the hot wet passage they explored.
"Get it in me! Put your cock in me, Dolfo, damn it! I'm so hot my pussy's sizzling! Drop it in and fuck me dead!"
Her big buttocks caught and squeaked as he pulled her toward him, along the table. Her fleshy legs dangled. Within their shielding mass of hair, the moist red flesh of her cunt's puckered lips gasped, just at the table's edge.
She came up into a sitting position and grabbed at his big broad-headed cock. Her tugging hand dragged the foreskin back over that fat glans, even as he shoved it at her.
The pressuring lobes of her open cunt pushed it back and again bared the shining cock head as he shoved it into her. She trembled when she felt that fat silky crown of his big cock poker wedging into the pink-red furrow between the glowing lips of her lower belly.
"Ah! Christ-it feels so good!" She groaned, and fell back onto her elbows. She grinned delightedly at him. All that beautiful big life-giving pussy-reaming cock coming into her needy hole!
She groaned and lifted her big soft buttocks clear of the table, shoving her capacious pussy up the hard flesh of his cock. It went deep, and she felt it all. She strained hard, quivering with effort, to cram herself all the way up the belly.
Dolfo endeared himself to her by having a big, unusually thick cock. The thick root of his cock caressed her elongated clitoral budlet and dilated petal soft vulvar lips even more than they had been forced to part for his strong humping entry.
She groaned aloud. Hot stabs of flame were beseiging her throbbing clit.
While he continued plowing recklessly in and out of her flooding vaginal swamp, she responded in an unreserved abandon.
He was fucking her good and hard, in the grip of an imperious lust that smashed all resistance and opened her cunt wide and made her weak with desire and blind need.
Raising his hips, he drew far back until she frowned and whimpered at being bereft of good hard cock. Then he lashed into her again, driving and driving, seeking her womb, probing for the very center of her. She fell back on the table and her head banged. She didn't care. She hunched hard to her standing fucker. The table rocked and wavered and its legs moved slightly along the floor with the force of his fierce spasmodic thrusts.
A minor orgasm rippled through her; one of several cumlets she usually enjoyed while being fucked. She didn't always get the big one. Dolfo fucked fast and hard and deep, and he had a thick cock that pressured her clit as it steamed in and out of her. But that was the only touch he vouchsafed to her sex button. Macho and machismo meant being male, and in Espania that meant not worrying about the female sex partner. She should be grateful to get herself plumbed and her womb tickled by macho meat.
Estrelita was grateful. Estrelita was overweight, everywhere but in the chest, and she loved to fuck.
Sensations jerked her luscious body and inflaming lust throbbed through her as he writhed against her lush, sweating curves. The thickness of his burning pole split the anxious mouth of her cunt like a knifed melon.
She wriggled, undulating, squeezing his engulfed prick within her boiling cunt.
Panting, he plunged himself up her dilated cunt as deeply as he could spear into it. She moaned, feeling and loving the truncheon of hard muscle caught in her soft encircling labia and their warm grip.
She sighed, grooving on a bellyful of hot cock.
Another cunt-clutching orgasm flashed through her and her up-mounded belly rippled.
Then, closing his eyes tightly and trying to imagine that this was not heavy, sweating Estrelita but her blond mistress, Dolfo crammed his dick deep and started coming.
A spurting flood of hot sperm slammed into her already gaping cunt as he spunked off hard and deep into her. Semen began dribbling out of her angry-looking cunt lips, overflowing and oozing down between her buttocks, from one dark crease into another. It formed a shining coating on the tabletop.
Upstairs, Claudine Brooks' hand was raking viciously at the little bud at the top of her firm, pink-tinted cunt lips. Her cunt was wet and drooling and already her clitoris was sore. But she went on rubbing and squeezing and jerking desperately at it as she continued reading in a low but excited voice: "'That thing slipped right into you, huh?' And he chuckled.
"She stared horrified, then started to move forward, to draw her stinging, smarting broadly expanded anus off the ham-smeared branch stub impaling her. But his hand slapped her hip, holding her firmly in place against the tree.
"She stood, shifting her feet and trembling in agony and horror. She could feel the rough bark of the tree against her buttocks. That meant the stub of the broken branch, which he'd said was six or seven inches long, was all the way into her.
" 'God! Oh, Go-o-o-o-o-od! How could you do this to me?'"
Claudine read on, rubbing hard at her sore clitoris, while Peggy's callous captor called her a "goddam naked drool-cunted whore" and slapped her hip, "which rammed her another half-inch or so onto the impaling stake, as her resilient buttocks flattened against the tree."
Shuddering, full of fire in her excitement-laden belly, Claudine let the book riffle closed. She wallowed naked on her bed, working at her reluctant love bud and the thirsty orifice of her cunt with both hands.
It wouldn't come. Tears formed in her eyes, tears of both frustration and pain. Her clit felt like a tiny piece of raw hamburger. She knew fear, too.
She was beautiful. She was desired by everyone. But her own attitudes and unconquerably cool hauteur made it impossible for her to let herself go in the embrace of her own husband. She could only lie there on those steadily decreasing occasions when he screwed her, wishing, wishing; wishing that she could let go, that he'd make her let go, that he'd make her come.
She sobbed uncontrollably at the realization of her complete helplessness. She could not respond to him as a loving, sex-needing woman, and she could not bring herself off either. The pressure of her urgently rubbing fingers on her quivering vulval flesh was an agony that did nothing for her tormenting state of extreme senusal arousal.
Her clitoris was terribly sore, a bright red button peeping frustrated up out of her pretty pussy. She was tired and her arms ached from the constant rubbing.
But when David came home and knocked softly on her door, she pretended to be asleep.
She heard him go down the hall to what had been one of two guest bedrooms. They still called it that. But now it was his bedroom, as this one was hers.
Then she turned over, wincing at the harsh feeling of the sheet against her genitals-the sheet was satin-and she cried herself to sleep.
Edmunto knew that Raul Herrera's visit to Claudine Brooks had gone far from well. But he dared not ask what had happened.
Herrera slammed open the door of the liquor cabinet and jerked out a bottle of cognac.
"Tomorrow is the eighteenth birthday of George Buchanan's daughter," he said through clinched teeth. "You and Gaston and Caballo are to give her a birthday present."
"A . . . birthday present."
Herrera poured, drank, poured again. "A seminal gift, Edmunto. My name is not to be mentioned. But she is to know, 'Munto, enough to tell her father to stay out of politics."
"No more?"
"She is not to be hurt, Edmunto. Just . . . fuck hell out of the little Yanqwi bitch!"
CHAPTER FOUR
Bobby had parked the car only for a moment. The engine was still running and eighteen-year-old Amy Buchanan sat well over in the center of the front seat, wondering if it was too late for her to invite Bobby in to neck a little. After all-this was her birthday.
Then the doors opened on both sides of her, almost at once. A mustached Espanian slid under the wheel; the balding one shoved in on the other side of her. The knife he showed her, down near her thighs, closed her mouth although her eyes remained wide.
The mustached man drew away from the curb.
"Hey-stop! This car belongs to Robert Collins of the Foreign Service-and I'm George Buchanan's daughter!"
"We know. Be quiet." The knife moved up and just touched the spot where the very tip of her left breast stretched the cloth of her blouse. "Be very quiet, Amy, or we'll find out if your tit is fat enough to keep this knife out of your heart!"
The car turned a corner and rolled down the street.
"Oh, no-please! What do you want!"
"Less noise."
The car turned another corner and they were on a dark and seemingly deserted street. Halfway down it a car was parked, an old Buick. The mustached driver pulled in behind it. The driver started to get out. With terror gripping her heart, Amy opened her mouth wide to cry out.
The man beside her tickled her tit with his knife-and shoved a wadded handkerchief into her mouth.
The girl was still spluttering when the balding Espanian flung her into the back seat of the other car. The mustached man had already gotten into the back seat, and her flailing young body fetched up sharply against him. A third man was already behind the wheel, and the car was running. He gunned off.
As Amy floundered about, the mustached man grabbed her blouse-covered breast in one gloved hand. A new lurch of terror jolted through her. She had told them who she was, and they had let her know they already knew. They had meant to kidnap her, then; her specifically, the daughter of George Buchanan, manager of Vespa Copper's Espanian operation. Dad had been having all that trouble with the Communist organizers at the plant, even at the mines. There had been definite sabotage, and he had at last ordered several of the ring leaders fired!
She wasn't being kidnaped for ransom then, the shivering girl realized. This was political.
Or . . . steel fingers seemed to grip around her heart. Or . . . retaliatory!
"What-what do you want?" she managed to squeak out, twisting her breast out of Mustache's gripping fingers.- The other man- Half-bald-slapped her rump where her skirt was tightest, and she yelped and started wiggling in a new direction.
"We want you to remember one thing," she was told, in thickly accented English. A hand squeezed her upper arm, hard. He shook her. "Are you listening, gringa? Do you hear me?"
"Y-y-y-e-e-e-ess!" she assured him, the word emerging spurtily as he shook her.
The car swung sharply around a corner. She tumbled against Mustache. His hand skidded over her blouse, trying to grab her taut young breast again. The other man didn't yield his grip and a thrill of pain leaped through her arm.
"Good! Remember this, then. Remember to tell your papa that he'd better just run his copper business and stay out of politics," he said, emphasizing the word by jerking her arm, "or next time will be worse than this!"
"Ow!" Her head was pounding. She felt sweaty, and she'd never been so scared in her life. Mustache had now grasped the front of her blouse and was squeezing viciously, sending hot flashes of pain shooting into her throbbing helpless tits. Her father was old-fashioned, and she'd been brought up that way. Not even when she and Bobby were necking on the couch had his hands been so callously intimate; he knew better.
"B-but Dad isn't IN politics!" she cried miserably. She tried to twist away from Mustache. That just made both men squeeze harder, at breast and arm.
Half-bald slapped her face ringingly. "Don't be smart! He will know!"
Her cheek burned from his slap. "I know!" she whimpered. "You're communists, aren't you? You're trying to take over Dad's plant!"
"Right now," Half-bald said, "we're taking over Dad's daughter! Easy up there, Cab-" He broke off without pronouncing the driver's name. "This road's full of potholes."
"Where are you TAKING me-e?" the girl wailed.
"Just about . . . here," the driver snapped, and he slammed on the brakes. Her body was catapulted forward. She heard her blouse rip -her birthday blouse!-and then her throbbing breast was free and her head banged into the back of the front seat. She saw a sudden flaring spray of bright lights.
The door opened to her left; Amy made a wild, totally unreasoning break for the open space; Half-bald grabbed the collar of her blouse.
Her violent movement was arrested and there was new discomfort to her bosom as the blouse went very tight across the thrust of her firmly muscled young breasts. Then cloth ripped loudly again, unable to withstand his gripping hand and her forward movement. She went flying through the open doorway of the car, with every button of her blouse ripped right through their holes.
Her head butted into the belly of the mustached man, who was waiting with ready arms. He caught her with his hands ramming into both her armpits. At the same time his knee came up and sank into her belly. The impact sent pain leaping through her again and drove every gust of wind out of her.
She went to her knees, gagging. Only his hands in her fear-wet armpits kept her from falling flat.
Getting out behind her, Half-bald finished the destruction of her brand-new, imported-from-America blouse.
"Uh!" Mustache said. "Nice-stuffed brassiere on this little bird!"
"Fuck the bra," the driver's voice snarled. It was a deep voice. "Let's see her tits, Edmunto!"
"No, no, NO!" Amy cried out, struggling.
She stiffened and her eyes bulged when she felt the cold kiss of a steel blade against her back. But it was only the back of Half-bald's -Edmunto's-knife. It slid up under her bra strap. She squealed and jerked. Unwise; the strap parted and her tight-skinned pair of upward-pointing breasts bobbled free. She felt the rush of cool air over the pink tips, and they tightened instantly up into jutting buds.
Her shocked mind reeled. Her terrible shame and humiliation at the exposure of her shapely titties was as nothing compared with her fear. Hot tears rushed down her cheeks in hot rivulets.
"Hum . . . nice!" the driver commented. He reached down to surround her breasts with enormous hands.
"Ah-Ayaee! No-oh-h-oh-oh-h-h. NO!"
She squirmed frantically and new groans of humiliation and pain escaped her quavering lips. Her tits were silky-skinned clay in his hands, and he seemed bent on molding them into exotic new shapes.
Inexpressibly shocked and revolted, the young girl wriggled and squirmed in an agony of shame and hot pain.
Pulling at her tits, the huge man dragged her to her feet. He shoved her back against Edmunto, with a harsh chuckle. Edmunto grasped her at the waist, wiped his hand down over her thrusting left buttock, and shoved her to Mustache. Her tits flopped and jumped and she sobbed.
Running a hand up under her skirt, he squeezed the firm-fleshed bulge at the crotch of her panties. She squealed and flailed at him with one hand, grabbing at her rising skirt with the other. Chuckling, he shoved her back against the giant driver-who grabbed her arms with hands like steel bands.
Then, while he held her firmly back against his hard, towering body, the other two ripped and tore and dragged off her skirt and panties.
She was naked before three pairs of burning eyes, and her every muscle and nerve quivered in fearful anticipation. She tried to kick Mustache-who slapped her breasts, back and forth and back again, filling the helplessly thrusting ovals with a fiery pain, both from his stinging fingers and her tits' violent jouncing.
She sagged weakly, sobbing in helpless defeat against the driver's body-and shuddering at the feel of the great bulge of his fly against her lower back, just above the delectable morsels of her wiggling and now naked bottom.
The man with the mustache and the balding knife wielder called Edmunto stepped back. As if they had never seen a naked female before and had just discovered the nudity of the girl they had forcibly stripped, they stared.
Her shoulder-length, honey-colored hair was straggling now, and strayed across her face. Marked with glowing red fingerprints from the slaps they had received, her fully rounded breasts jiggled furiously with her panting. Their eyes ranged downward, over the soft curve of her belly and its shallow navel, to the sleek little triangular nest of her pubic hair. Hot gazes seemed to sear sturdily rounded, naked thighs and the quivering cuntal crevice at their tops.
"Like to eat that, Gast?" Edmunto smiled.
"No," Gaston said, and his voice quivered with lust. "I just want to fuck it."
"Oh, no-o," Amy moaned quietly.
"Suppose it's been fucked much?"
"Shit, it's her eighteenth birthday, stupid! Of course she's been fucked." Gaston stepped forward and extended a hand to her honey-hued pubic bush.
"No! No, I haven't!"
He sneered and she could hear his heavy breathing as he bent to her close-pressed legs. Teasing her, he bypassed the furry patch at their apex and ran his hand freely up and down her soft rounded thighs.
"Nuh-uh . . . don't . . ."
Grinning, he slid his hands over onto her mound. She went stiff and sucked up a sharp breath. The lecherous fingers stroking over the gently curling thicket of her pubic hair and over her tight-clenched labia brought shame-filled moans and pleading little gasps from her quivering lips.
She glanced wildly around. Trees. Underbrush; bushes. The parked car. Three men- she gasped. Her eyes had passed over Edmunto, and now they swerved back. The balding, dark man had brought out the semihard shank of his uncircumcised penis from his pants. With his eyes fixed on her lewdly naked young body.
Then Gaston opened his pants and took out his own cock. She stared down at it, wide-eyed, both fascinated and revolted. Her eyes rose to his face. It showed her only the need of his inflamed lust for her inexperienced young body.
She seemed to go into shock, sagging limply as the huge man holding her arms from behind lifted her. He raised her body with ease, pulling her up until she was on tiptoe. Then she grunted as her feet left the ground completely.
With his cock in one hand, fully clothed Gaston stepped close. Her breath hissed in between her teeth as she felt the heat and pressure of his swollen tool against her pubis. Still she was silent. Her breasts rushed up and down, jiggling softly with her panting lungs.
His cock separated the swollen flesh of the soft, juicy flap of her cunt and slid on in. Again her hissing intake of air; she felt her intimate flesh dilating around the redly swollen head of his penis. It pushed on, upward and in, and pierced her vaginal vestibule with its knoblike glans.
"Uh . . . oh!"
"Easy, easy, little pussy," Gaston grinned. "It only hurts for a little while." The other two men laughed at the old cliche.
"Please . . . please don't. It hurts. . . ."
"Blame it on your father," he told her and shoved.
The big man holding her loosened his grip on her arms, let her slide down until her feet smacked the ground, and then clamped her arms in his steely fingers again.
"Nnng-aaa-AAAAGHH!"
Parting hair and lips and inner membranes, one of which he burst and retired forever, he plowed deeply up her hot cleft, far far up into the long-closed furrow. The tight-drawn ring of her outer cunt slammed down onto the base of his cock. He ground up and in, jacking his knees, pressing until his hard crotch chewed into her soft, splayed nether lips. Her belly quaked, her body flexed, and her hips twisted wretchedly from side to side.
"Oh, God, tight," he announced to his wide-eyed associates.
"Mother of God," Edmunto gasped, "she was virgin! Look at the blood trickling down those thighs."
The girl seemed to have accepted the pain and the degradation, the forcible smashing of her virginal barrier and the entry of another body into her own. But now, reminded of that broken membrane and the fact that the scarlet proof of her perforated virginity was oozing down her quivering thighs, she broke into desolated tears.
Gaston laughed-and began obeying Raul Herrera's command to fuck hell out of her.
Standing before the girl the big man held so firmly, Gaston swept open her thighs and hunched his body strongly back and forth to gouge his hard cock in and out of her slender, burning slit. He twisted his body without letting his meat emerge, scouring her soft inner flesh and bringing a gasping, whimpering groan from deep in her throat.
The tight circle of the lips of her throbbing little pussy held and squeezed as he lunged into her with lust-dictated strength and ferocity.
Trapping one of her rosy nipple bumps between each thumb and forefinger, he clamped on and tormented them as he pounded her body with his.
Her back-forced bottom rubbed against the rough cloth of the pants of her captor, making her flesh smart and tingle . . . and reminded her that the hard, bulging pressure she felt was another big male demolisher, awaiting its turn.
She groaned and sobbed softly. Her pinched, constantly twisted nipples ached hotly. Her breath came in ragged gasps.
He pinched hard, gripping her squirming body by the tits and forcing her liquid cunt to engulf and enfold the churning staff he plied her with.
"Uh," he grunted, "ah-arrghhh!"
And his lurching body bathed her virginal pussy with the squirting fluid of his tensing balls.
"Ah, ah . . . good fuck," Gaston grunted throatily, and he staggered weakly back.
The girl, too, sagged. Only the powerful grip of the huge man's arms held her on her feet. Now pink-tinged semen trickled down her thighs. She felt it. It tickled.
Over her forlornly lolling head, Edmunto's eyes met the even darker ones of the man called Caballo, "Horse." Caballo looked a question at him. Edmunto grinned, wagged his big erection, and made a sweeping "After you my dear Alphonse" gesture.
Caballo released the girl's arms. With a frightened little moan of surprise, she dropped to her hands and knees. Her hair and tits swung down loosely. Grinning, Caballo gazed down at the round pink halves of her naked rump-as he opened his pants.
Out jumped enough cock to pleasure a whore of thirty years' experience. Even on a man of Caballo's gigantic proportions, it was an impressive prick. A horse cock, on a man named Horse.
"Don't move, girl," he said, in barely recognizable English. "Jou do and I weel tear off jour teets!"
She trembled beneath the words as though they had been lashes from a hard-swung whip. She was weeping softly, so that tears coursed down her cheeks and plopped softly to the ground beneath her. But there was no fight in her. She remained still, as he ordered. She knelt before him humbly, her tender young bottom upturned, her head bowed in submission.
Caballo dropped to his knees behind her.
"Uh!" Her head jerked up and she lurched slightly forward as the swollen head of his big bludgeonlike penis banged her buttocks. Then it flopped on down their crease to nuzzle the furry split of her violated vulva.
He pushed, his hands rushing out to grasp her hips.
"Guh!" The gouging, dilating ramming of that huge cudgel drove her forward. It felt as if she had been miraculously restored to maidenhood and were being opened anew.
She felt every instant and every millimeter of the slow, grinding, difficult entry of several inches more-than-normal cock length.
The tender folds of her pretty pink pussy stretched over the corona and the flaring ridge at the base of the peach-sized glans. His hands had to leap around her, big fingers digging into her waist and belly, to hold her in place.
Her thighs flexed and undulated spasmodically as she moaned. God, O God, the pressure!
The stiff, probing tool forced itself deeper into her quivering hole. It felt hot, incredibly and intensely hot and sharp edged.
It came in deeper, and deeper.
Her eyes blazed wide.
Caballo kept pushing. She had about half of it. She was going to get it all, if he had to use his big prick head to drill a hole in the bottom of her belly.
Her crotch's pulsing pink lips were stretched around the full breadth of his great steaming prick like a tight rubber band.
And the bulbous head was still pressing in, and in!
Her head rolled weakly and her belly tightened and rolled above her cannibalized cunt.
Thunk. "Vnnnnnnnghh!"
"Girl, jou've got all of the finest cock in all Espania up jour poossy! Jou're espoiled for all other men, forever!"
"Vh-gahh!"
Caballo held that enormous cunt spoiler in place. He did not move his body, other than to straighten his kneeling body.
Instead, he gathered up the American girl's thighs, clamping them up against her body so that she grunted out a strained, ugly noise. Then he began sliding her back and forth on his cock.
The swollen slippery mass of his huge dong slapped and poled in and out of her drooling, horribly stretched vagina, far into the damp softness of her.
She groaned unendingly.
His hot slippery prick head thumped jarringly into her spongy cervix and sent a jolt of mingled pleasure and pain through her feverish body.
She couldn't help it. He was stirring her innards. It hurt. It stretched her terribly. And it sent strange, pounding waves of pleasurable heat flowing throughout her despoiled doubled body.
Ambivalent feelings assailed her. If only it would end ... if only he could go on and on, without tearing her like wet paper, until this strange hard knot in her lower abdomen would go away. . . .
But he was huge, and she was thrillingly young and tight, and with a deep sigh he started blowing his warm male cream up in her fiercely expanded pussy to join Gaston's semen.
Gasping and quivering throughout his giant frame, the man called Caballo lowered Amy Buchanan to the ground with a thump. Slowly, he withdrew his drained fuck pole; it at last emerged, great even in its flaccidly flagging state, with a loud liquid plop.
"Ugh." She crouched there with her knees drawn up and her forehead on the ground between her flat-pressed palms.
Edmunto was waiting impatiently with an impatient cock. As Caballo rose, Edmunto stepped to him and motioned. The big man bent his head and Edmunto whispered in his ear. Caballo grinned and nodded.
Then he went over and sat down on the ground with his flopping peter just at the crown of her bent head. Straightening his legs out on either side of her, he slid his hands in beside her head and under her. She hardly moved when his huge hands wrapped themselves around the almost hard, dangling pendants of her tits.
"Be steel, leetle cheecken," he bade, "or I squeeze jour teets een two!"
He held her thus while Edmunto slid to his knees behind her upturned bottom. He stroked the quivering rounds of the firm cheeks, patted them, then gripped his cock.
The honey-haired hole he steered its big knob toward was well open, lips furled and bright red, and the pale yellow-white fluid of Caballo's warm cum dribbled obscenely out of it in a steady trickle. Edmunto smiled, nodded, and ran his cock straight into the long, parting slash of her open, semen-drooled gash.
"Uh." That was her only vocal reaction. Her body quivered; that was her only physical reaction.
Edmunto ran his cock easily in and out. He felt hardly any friction at all. Caballo's big horse cock and his and Gaston's combined seminal alluvium had left a warm, slushy mush of what a half-hour or so ago had been a tight-lipped, hymen-stoppered virgin's vagina.
At the same time as he pumped himself in and out of the lake of semen, he peeled open her buttocks like a great peach. The dainty little brownish-pink blossom of her anus winked at him. He grinned at it.
Then he pulled his cum-coated cock out of her flooded cuntal gap and shoved it up her ass.
The head plunged all the way inside the muscular ring.
For a moment she was quite still, as if she hadn't noticed the entry into the extreme constricting tightness of her firmly muscled young asshole.
Then she uttered a long low scream and did her best to ram her head straight through Caballo's gut.
"Hold her, Caballo!" Edmunto cried.
"She ... goes ... nowhere," Caballo said, and the girl's scream of sudden agony curdled in her throat; he crushed her breasts too tightly and agonizingly for her even to cry out.
Fighting the tight-clenched, rubbery vise of her sphincter all the way, Edmunto forced his inflexibly tumescent prick all the way up her virgin ass.
He was clever enough to hold it there awhile, knowing that no matter what she did, the grip of her protesting asshole would slacken up and the pain of his invading rod of flesh would be less and less fiery. He knew, too, that if she were any sort of woman at all, the pain would slowly meld into an inextricable marriage with pleasure.
But he would not wait for that. He had a plan for this daughter of the man who represented the strongest resistance to his master's plans for Espania. His plan did not call for her accepting her embuggerment, did not call for her liking her sodomizing, but for her to love being ass-fucked!
Wrapping his hands around her hips, he began running his fingers gently up and down the wide-forced furrow of her vulva. His fingers sloshed through the semen of her two previous rapists, smeared it up over the top of her cunt split and onto her lower belly. He matted her soft tan pubic hair with it, coated her clitoris.
She sighed, moaned when he slid his prick out until her anal band housed only its swollen head, sighed again when he strained again to toy with her hot, wide open sheath and run a fingertip gently over her clitoris.
Again he sank his cock up her rectum, and again he paused to soothe her twitching, slowly erecting bud of sensual feeling.
Again he withdrew the tumid shaft, and again he held it just inside her anus while he slithered his fingers down between her puffy, reddened cunt lips and drew them up, sperm smeared, to caress her slit.
Now Caballo was doing his part. His big fingers had become gentle on her breasts, smoothing, soothing, caressing, gently drawing their nipples downward.
The girl's nipples lengthened. Her clitoral bud rose.
Actually straining to reach around while continuing to move his pelvis, Edmunto began moving his slick hard tool in and out of the grippingly slender track of her rectum. His fingers grew busier on her clit and Caballo's drew, tugging gently, at her nipples and petted the entire rounded surfaces of her down-swinging tits.
Smoother and smoother, easier and easier became the passage of Edmunto's gliding penis in and out of the kneeling girl's relaxing asshole.
The kneeling victim now shivered and made distinctly unvictimlike noises. Little moaning sighs escaped her lips; they were not of pain. Quivers ran through and through her bowed form; they were not of fear. Little warm tingles zipped around in her vagina, through her hanging, fondled knockers and into her belly; they were not of pain or fear either.
The clever manipulations of her clit, combined with the stroking of her now-relaxed ass, filled her with the widening glow of rapture. It built and built in her. She began to tighten the long oval buns of her pierced backside.
Her body began moving backward and forward as well, sliding the long, slippery, warm channel of her asshole to and fro along his cock.
It sawed in, and each deep glide was a new stroke of a poker, stoking up her inner fires.
They flared, blazed up, and she moaned and jerked out her orgasm.
She had never known anything like it. The exquisite splendor of her rolling orgasm raised her to heights of sexual satiation she had not dreamed existed. She went utterly limp and hardly noticed as a torrent of hot sperm gushed up into her bowels.
Smiling, gasping in postorgasmic weakness, he pulled his slimy, flaccid prick out of her ass. She quivered.
She was limp when they loaded her back into the car.
She was only just coming to her senses when they stopped just beside New Madrid's largest cemetery and pushed her out.
Edmunto was laughing softly.
"Oh, that little Yanqui bitch is going to beg to have her sweet little ass fucked!" He slapped his leg.
"I hope we get another assignment like this," Caballo said in his deep voice. "Why are you so quiet, Gaston?"
Gaston sighed. "I was just thinking. You know who I'd rather have on a job like this than even that squirmy little virgin?"
"No, who?" Edmunto asked.
"Virgin Mary," Caballo suggested, chuckling.
Gaston didn't laugh. "The Princess!"
"Ha! Which princess?"
"Senora David Brooks-Claudine!"
The others laughed more loudly. Then, slowly, they sobered. They thought about that. It was a sobering thought. Also an erecting one. They rode on, wishing they hadn't dumped Amy Buchanan out so soon . . . but thinking of Claudine Brooks.
CHAPTER FIVE
George Buchanan had a barely controlled mop of tightly curled red hair, a pair of blue eyes that could strike terror into the hearts of his employees, and a temper. Manager of Vespa Copper, largest American company in Espania, he was also accustomed to getting his way. Communist attempts to organize and anger his employees had resulted in his leaving his coat in his office and entering the arena himself. Attempts to intimidate him had brought sneering, snarling replies. Threats against his family had finally forced him to fire the ringleaders and call both the Espanian interior minister and the United States ambassador.
Today he did not call; he came to Ambassador C. David Brooks in person, and his eyes were blazing. David's soft-voiced attempts to remind Buchanan of international politics had failed to quiet the man-which David could understand.
"They were locals, Mister Ambassador!" George Buchanan raged, as he'd been raging for the past fifteen minutes. "God dammit, three lousy dirty Espanians grabbed my sweet virginal daughter and RAPED her! What the shit is the use of having a big powerful government like ours, and an ambassador here, if you can't protect American nationals in Espania- and do something about it when they're abused!"
"Mister Buchanan, the situation here is such that
"
Buchanan shot to his feet. "You and I both know those bastards were in the pay of the communists, Brooks! They've been creating trouble for over a year now and I just canned the ringleaders. You and I also know there's one man in Espania who can control them. Now are you going to Raul Herrera, or am I?"
David gazed at the red-faced man. Christ, his daughter! The dirty bastards! He'd been pussyfooting long enough!
"Mister Buchanan, this is horrible and I promise you I am going to chew some asses and get some action. Right now we can't prove it was Raul Herrera . . . but . . . will you give me forty-eight hours?"
Buchanan stood there and stared at him, his flushed face working. Then he vouchsafed the ambassador a single brief nod. "Forty-eight hours," he said, looking pointedly at his watch. And he left.
David called Premier Avila and accomplished the usual: nothing. It was obvious Avila had a genuine fear of Herrera. After he'd put down the phone, David sat there drumming his fingertips. He'd have loved to call the Soviet ambassador, Yuri Babaikov, and tell him he'd damned well stop backing Herrera. But David didn't dare. A United States ambassador didn't have the power to threaten a Russian one, and for excellent reasons.
The ringing of the phone startled him. So did the identity of the caller: Raul Herrera. So did Herrera's words. The Espanian communist did not refer at all to last night's horrible and fantastically high-handed gang-bang of Amy Buchanan.. No. But it was too obvious that he had indeed been behind it. He was calling to suggest that he and David get together to discuss "working something out" in the "unfortunate attitude" of . .. Vespa Copper, Buchanan's firm!
David chewed him, gently and then angrily. At last he told Herrera he was going to hang up.
"I would not advise you to hang up on me, Mister Ambassador!" Herrera snapped. David hung up.
He picked up the phone to call Washington. It was time-no, past time to get permission to use the information he had on Raul Herrera. He frowned. It was an ugly thought, but . . . he decided against calling. How could he be sure Herrera didn't have a tap on his phone, or operators in his pay? Instead, David called the airport and made a reservation. He'd fly to Washington, get a fast hearing, and fly back as fast as he could swing it. The plane would leave at six A.M.
He got through the day as best he could. It was hard not to think about Amy Buchanan.
He and the Princess had one of their late, antiseptic private dinners, and afterward he told her he was flying home.
Her face came alive. "Oh, good! It'll be good to see some people up there!"
"Darling . . . don't forget the dinner we've got scheduled for Friday night. It's Annik Barreau's birthday." Annik Barreau, fat and gossipy, was the wife of the French ambassador. It was one of those things they were doing because it was part of the job. "Anyhow . . ." And he told her why he was going, and that it would be a fast and brief trip.
Claudine sighed and her lovely, fair face darkened. But she only nodded. She never said anything about the distasteful necessities of the job. She, after all, had wanted it very much and both she and her grandfather had put on the pressure, two years ago, when David had considered turning it down.
Playing Dutiful Wife, she helped him pack, doublechecked the travel list with him, and went into the bathroom to bathe.
It's her wifely duty, David thought bitterly, to get all clean and perfumed and "have sex" with her husband before he departs.
But his desire rose when she emerged from the bathroom, a regal and very desirable vision in flowing white net. One thing about balling this undemonstrative woman (balling, not balling with), she just couldn't let go. He knew he was the envy of every man in Espania, fully half those in Washington and Arlington-the Attenborough home-and probably a third of the males of the United States: all those who had seen her picture.
Too, he knew some things they didn't. The firm jutting bulge of her vulva, the pale pink slit showing so clearly and sexily through the sparse blond wisps of her silky pubic hair. The tensile strength and girlish firmness of her thighs and calves. The beauty of her hair when it was freed, a pale cloak like a moving flash of sunlight. The drum-taut plane of her belly and its shallow, almost perfectly round navel and the way it pulsated so slowly and gently with her breathing. The shocking jut and tight muscularity of her round buttocks-which she girdled under her clothing, so as not to flash that shapely, sexy ass at the world, even clothed. And the strange moons of her breasts, which were large and with little sag, and yet that thrust outward so little. Because of that odd-ness about them, she also prevented the world from knowing what she was: a woman with large, sexy tits, quivering bowl shapes of silken flesh that were very restless when naked.
Not that David often saw them naked. She had slept with him before their marriage because that was the thing to do. In the dark.
The farthest they had progressed beyond that, now, was that she agreed to leaving the light on in the bathroom. With the door not quite closed.
Now, as he took her nylon-enveloped loveliness in his arms and kissed her, her hands rested lightly on his shoulders. She allowed him to draw her willowy body as close as he liked, but she did not press to him.
He had tried going down on her, once. She had stiffened up and gasped in shock, and she'd been withdrawn for days. Both cunnilungus and fellatio, she had let him know, were perversions. And she had used those fancy words for cunt-lapping and cock-sucking.
"You'd have to force me to indulge in such perversions, David!"
He had thought about those words, more than once. It was an exciting prospect. But he wasn't that sort of man-and she wasn't the sort of woman that anyone made do anything. So he got his fiery sex away from home, and though she never mentioned it, he was sure Claudine knew about Morgana Tovares.
She was the perfect nineteenth-century wife. She was a good and dutiful woman to her husband. And she overlooked the fact that his male biology made him want to do things that he did with a mistress. That did not concern her, or him, really. That was biology. That was a man for you.
With the room not quite dark, Claudine and David Brooks, mates but not mates, lovemakers but not lovers, undressed on opposite sides of the big old-fashioned bed. Then they slid onto the sheets.
She lay on her back. Her sighs and little twitches let him know that she was aware of his attentions to the large round domes of her breasts.
He cupped those soft and firm breasts in his hands, crowding them together in the center of her chest, fondling and squeezing and lifting them and their pale pink, softly rumpled crests to his mouth. He tongued them, sucked them, let her nipples feel the warmth of his tongue and the gentle grip of his lip-shielded teeth.
She sighed and twitched. Her hand rubbed his arm.
Her nipples swelled up fat and sassy in swift response to the loving pressure and suction. He smiled, gently nibbling at one jutting pink erection. He loved her tits, loved her nipples, loved the way they erected so readily and remained swollen and tumid for so long. It was one response, by God, that he could damned well get from the Princess, the ... ice princess.
"I love your breasts," he murmured, for a woman like Claudirte Attenborough Brooks had breasts, not tits.
"I'm so glad," she purred, patting his head.
Arf, he thought, and began stroking her thighs with one hand. God, 0 dear God, the sleek firm smoothness of those thighs, the absolute silken texture of her ungenerous amount of pubic hair, the nuts-tightening sexiness of her tits in his hands and mouth and under his tongue!
"Umm. Come in me," she said softly. She always did. She had discovered he liked her saying that, long ago. By now he wished she'd just once vary the pattern. ... He slid his fingers up the silky little slit between the delicately tinted lips of her cunt. (Her vulva, she said. Her vulva and his penis. She referred to it, occasionally.)
He couldn't help it. As always, he was extremely aroused and wanted her desperately. And he would again, despite her passivity, despite Morgana's fire. He couldn't help it; this was the woman he loved. He really did.
He tickled between the delicate folds of her love lips.
She jerked. "No! You know I can't stand that! Come in me!"
So he went into her. With or without any fervor or ecstasy on her part, he would slake his sexual thirst at the wellspring of her pussy.
He peeled open her legs, which always parted readily, but never of her own accord. His hands opened her silky, cushioning cunt bulge to the pushing, probing cock so hungry for its hot clutch.
She grunted and shuddered when he shoved it into the soft, fleshy target of her pussy. Christ but it was good, so slick and warm and pressed firmly all around his broad, bulging cock.
All the way inside, he stretched over her with his elbows supporting his body. He lay there rocking away in the cradle of her hips, widening the swollen lips of that elastic pocket of flesh.
He began ramming in and out, penetrating all the way in long, steady and rhythmic strokes that fucked her on the upmost length of his hard-throbbing cock until his pubic hairs abraded the soft protective folds of her cunt.
She moaned and sighed. Her hands moved restlessly over him. Her palms were dry and her fingers cool.
His body rose onto his palms, suspended above her. His toes dug in. He thrust hard into her, deep up inside her moist fleshy inner walls.
His butt tightened and his hips jerked and pushed his long shaft of meaty cock into her with a constant wet, soppy sound.
She groaned aloud. She could feel that swollen knob cleaving into her, way up her sucking cunt. She loved it. She loved being fucked, loved his body over hers, joined with hers inside hers.
She tried. She arched her warm, vibrant body up to his as his big organ glided sensuously in her cunt. Her arms pressed him and her hands worked restlessly over his rocking, sweat-dampened body.
Hot waters were rising behind her un-breached dam in peaking, madly teasing desire. She uttered little squeaks of mingled pleasure and need.
Now he was pounding, acting as if he were trying to smash her pelvis, to nail her with her own clitoris. It pulsed and she strained, reaching for ecstasy. Her entire body seemed to yearn out, seeking to achieve sexual pleasure, seeking to achieve the ever-elusive goal of final pleasure: orgasm.
She knew how hard he tried. He varied his pace, slowing down, and she knew he was holding back. Sweat filmed him and transferred itself to her. He maintained the marvelous movements of fucking for a long long time.
At last he gasped, stiffened, shuddered, groaned, and she held his hot, sweating body close as it jerked in orgasm.
She held him there for a time after he had ceased jerking and pumping hot wet seed up inside her. Then he moved, leaving her body open to the cooling air, and she went into the bathroom. She wasn't even sweating.
As always, she was gone a very long time, and David went to sleep. When she at last emerged, her vagina emptied of his semen, she stretched out beside him and stared upward into the darkness. There were tears in her eyes and sobs that wanted to escape her throat, but she wouldn't give way to them.
She was still awake when it was time to get him to the airport. She roused him, they dressed, and although he told her it was unnecessary, she rode with him in the car Juan drove to the airport. And she kissed him good-by.
Claudine watched the plane vanish into the dawn-pearled sky. Then she went home to her secret books.
CHAPTER SIX
Edmunto turned away from the thrice-buggered, blood-smeared body of Morgana Tovares. He glanced around her apartment.
"Break a few things. Take any money you find and throw her purses around the room, Caballo. We will make this look like a robbery."
"But he will know," Caballo said. "Brooks will know!"
"Of course he will. But knowing and being able to prove are two different matters," Edmunto smiled.
"And the big bitch told us nothing," Gaston muttered, staring at the naked, mutilated woman that his whip and Caballo's knife had cut up magnificently.
Edmunto shrugged. "It is a shame, but no less than I expected. Brooks is no fool, to tell secrets to his mistress. Besides, it doesn't matter. We knew when he left for Washington, and we knew thirteen minutes after he arrived."
"Is a shame," Caballo said, overturning a chair and hauling the mattress half off the bed. "We have cost the American ambassador a perfectly fine and serviceable mistress-and for nothing!"
Edmunto heaved an exasperated sigh and shook his head. "Not for nothing, estupido! This is one more warning to Brooks. Perhaps he will heed this one!"
Gazing down at her as if he wished she'd suddenly show a sign of life so that he could use his whip to snap off her other nipple, Gaston nodded. "Si' And besides, she was not one of us. A traitor to her people. Perhaps the Americana's next mistress will be more cooperative and not such a blind tool of the imperialist money worshipers!"
"And keep her beauty," Caballo said, wiping his knife on the bedspread and storing it carefully away in his clothing. Then the three of them left.
After dropping his men off, Edmunto returned to give Raul Herrera the news. While he was there, the phone rang. Herrera snatched it.
"Herrera. Si' Si-ah, Buchanan! Link me in!" And, very carefully, he placed his hand over the receiver. He looked over at Edmunto, who was eyeing the liquor cabinet. "Be very quiet. David Brooks is calling George Buchanan from Washington! Maria is plugging me in to the circuit. I shall hear everything they say!" Then he rolled his eyes to the telephone he held. His mouth closed and he listened as George Buchanan answered. "Buchanan. This is Brooks in Washington.
Because of our agreement, I thought it best to call you. Are you alone?"
"Yes, Mister Ambassador," Buchanan said without respect, "I'm alone. You've got some- thing to tell me, do. I'm oiling
"
"All right," Brooks interrupted. "I've talked with State, and I've been to the White House for a meeting. I have their OK, now ... to reveal to the people of Espania certain facts they should know about the influence of certain people on their government-and their relations with the United States."
"That sounds like doubletalk, Brooks," Buchanan growled.
There was a long pause, then Brooks said, "All right. I'll tell you this much. Raul Herrera drives a Mercedes that costs eighteen thousand dollars American in Espania, and he lives very comfortably on an estate. And I not only know where the money came from-and keeps on coming from-I have the papers right here with me. And just as soon as I can fly back to New Madrid, we'll see that the Espanian people aren't left in the dark any longer about their . . . hero of the common man."
Edmunto could not hear. He could only see his boss's knuckles go white on the phone; see Herrera pale and start to exude sweat on his high forehead.
"OK, Mister Ambassador," Buchanan said. "But just in case, I'll keep on oiling."
"I'll be there, George. It will be as I said. I have the document, and there are no copies down there. But there are now several sets in Washington! Just hang on, and let's do this the proper way."
"The proper way! Shit! Thanks for calling," George Buchanan said, and he hung up.
"Buchanan? George?" David Brooks' voice said in Raul's ear. "Well, damn him!" And there was another click. With a shaking, sweating hand, Raul broke his end of the connection and sat there staring at Edmunto.
Then he told the balding man to go out onto the porch while he made a phone call.
It did him no good. He was out on the porch, ten minutes later, still pale and still shaking. Yuri Babaikov had assured his government's Espanian tool that he would deny everything- and help the American smash Raul Herrera. Sorry. That was the way things were. I am thrown to the wolves, Raul thought. He had to find a way to stop Brooks. Not from getting here, but from doing anything with whatever documents he had. Somehow, he had to get a grip on the American.
There was only one way.
Edmunto looked up questioningly as his boss came unsteadily out onto the porch.
"The Princess!" Raul snapped.
She was lying on the bed on her side, naked, when the three men came in. Her back was to the door. Like worshipers who had just entered a famous and truly beautiful cathedral, they stopped to stare. The smooth whiteness of her skin . . . the fine swooping curve of her upper body, flowing down into a small waist and then leaping up into the superb flaring beauty of her hip . . . the perfection and shocking beauty and succulence of fine naked buttocks, standing firmly and brashly out. They were shocked at the beauty of the woman they had known was beautiful. Who'd have thought she'd be even more beautiful naked, Edmunto mused. Who'd have expected the shocking beauty of that naked ass?
They had entered silently, but Claudine, even involved in her book, sensed their presence. She turned over to stare at them-and that swiftly, Gaston pounced. His were the finest reflexes among Herrera's trio of dirty workers.
She lay there with one hand thrown across the white swell of her breasts, in protective modesty. She was defenseless and powerless, and Gaston was holding a gleaming knife to her throat. She felt icy fear and her head spun, but she showed none of it.
"Who are you? What can you possibly be doing here? Do you have any idea where you are?"
"We know exactly where we are, Senora Brooks. And we have come for you," Edmunto said quietly. The light from the handsome chandelier shone off the broad expanse of naked skin atop his head. "Be absolutely quiet and do as you're told and you will not force us to hurt you."
"Be absolutely quiet-you must be insane, or think I am.
I'll do nothing of the kind!" She pushed Gaston's arm away and sat up, still holding one arm across her bosom. She kept her thighs close pressed to conceal her vulva from their lustful gazes. "Get out of here, and quickly!"
Edmunto sighed. "Gaston."
Her mouth opened wide as Gaston reached for her throat. He took time out to slap her face. No one had ever slapped her face before. It wasn't just pain that assaulted her, but shock. She, Claudine Attenborough Brooks, had been slapped!
Then Gaston seized her by the throat. The back of his hand forced her chin up. She met his cold dark eyes.
"Be still and quiet and put your hands behind you, Senora Brooks, and I will not choke you until you must be quiet."
She blinked. A little shiver rippled through her admirably proportioned body. She felt fear, rage, frustration . . . and utter helplessness.
"You're kidnaping me?" she asked quietly.
"Yes."
She sighed. Glanced around at them. "All right. Let me put some clothes on."
They laughed. Slowly, her face took on a red glow. The hugest of the three men approached, holding lengths of slim rope. They were beneath her, they were lower class natives of this backward little country. It hurt her to say it, but she had to.
"Please," she forced out. "Let me get dressed."
"You will not need clothing, Princess," the huge man said, trailing an immense hand over her shoulder as he moved around her. "Stand up and put your hands back."
Gaston's hand tightened on her throat and he pulled. With a choking sound, she flowed to her feet. After a moment's quivering hesitation, she put both hands back.
"Mother of God," Gaston said softly, "look at the tits!"
That did it. That she could not bear. She kicked at his leg at the same time as she jerked her head backward to free it of his hand. He grunted, wincing, automatically half-doubling at the flash of pain in his leg. She tried to dodge sideward, to run. "Juan! Dolfo! Estrel Caballo flipped a loop of rope over her head, snapped it in under her chin, and jerked. Her voice was turned into a gurgling gasp. The back of her head banged hard against his chest. Her hands leaped up to try to loosen the rope at her throat. Her mouth came open. Her eyes bulged. Her face reddened. Her mouth gasped and her tongue appeared. Her clutching, clawing hands grew jerky, weak. Her tongue came thrusting out of her mouth. Then her bulging eyes rolled up and she sagged.
Caballo let go one end of the rope, immediately. He caught her with one hand and held her up with two fingers pressing into the yielding white flesh of her breast. Beneath it, her heart pounded.
"She will have an ugly mark on her throat," Gaston said, tying her ankles.
"She will have more marks on her than that before we're through with her," Edmunto said, walking over with the big white laundry bag. "Our only instructions are not to kill her and not to do anything to leave scars."
Caballo folded the limp body over and Gaston tied her wrists to her ankles. "What tits! What an ass! She has disguised her body under clothing, amigos!"
"No secret from us, now," Gaston said. "There." He straightened. "A nice package."
"And soon no secrets from us anywhere," Caballo said, with a leering grin. "Soon we know her inner flesh, too."
They gagged her with a stocking and stuffed her into the laundry bag. Caballo shouldered it. Then they hurried downstairs and out across the porch to the waiting car.
As they were putting the sack into the trunk, Estrelita appeared in the lighted doorway, nearly filling it. She was just in time to see them jump into the car. She screamed as they slammed the doors. The car's tires squealed and it lurched away. Dolfo came running.
"I think I heard the Senora cry out-those three men put a laundry bag into the trunk of their car, Dolfo! Do you think
"
He frowned, staring after the car. "Can you recognize any of them?"
"Si! I would recognize two; one of them is a huge man and another have a great scar all down his left cheek, so!"
"Most unfortunate," Dolfo said.
Something in his tone made her turn to him with a questioning look. She didn't even see the low-held knife. But that way she got it in the gut, rather than the back. Her eyes went very wide and her mouth dropped open. She made sick noises.
"Most unfortunate, fat sow," Dolfo said, and he twisted the knife.
She sank at his feet. Her mouth remained open but she could not speak. Blood poured out of her paunch, flooding between her clutching fingers. Her eyes remained on him, but soon they saw nothing.
The chauffeur, Juan, came running up, and Dolfo held the bloody knife behind him until Juan bent over the dead cook. "Madre de Dios," he muttered, and stood up, and got the knife twice. Low in the belly; then even lower, in the balls. Blood spurted and his face contorted, first in surprise and then in pain. He went to his knees, clutching his crotch while blood poured out of the hole above.
Dolfo stepped carefully back as the man pitched forward.
Dolfo squatted beside Estrelita's corpse and drove the knife, very carefully, into her again. Just as carefully, he slipped it into Juan's hand and folded his fingers around the hilt. Then he rose and gazed speculatively down at the bodies. Turning, he closed the door and turned off the porch light. Then, staring down at the big woman's body, he turned it over with his foot and used the toe of his shoe to lift her skirt, exposing her big bare ass.
Smiling and licking his lips, Dolfo opened his pants and reeled out his enormous hard-on.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Smiling and licking his lips, Edmunto opened his pants and reeled out his enormous hard-on.
The beautiful American woman lay on the bed, staring at him with eyes like ice, full of hate and contempt. Her arms were drawn out and bound to the bed's metal-railed head. Her legs were parted, too, in a wide V, with ropes running from her ankles down to where they were knotted about the bed's iron legs. She was entirely nude, her naked femininity obscenely, degradingly exposed to the gazes of her three captors.
Her spread-eagled body was flawlessly white except for the dark line around her throat, where Caballo had rope-choked her into unconsciousness, and the similar thin red line across her belly, where Gaston had lashed her with his whip, once. After that she had lain still on the iron bed in the old cabin to which they had brought her.
But she showed neither tears nor terror. She only lay there, dazed and degraded and waiting helplessly and hopelessly to be cruelly used- but staring daggers at her rapist.
She maintained that terrible icy stare even when he mounted the bed between her forcibly spread legs. But he saw the tension in her arms as she tried to be unobtrusive in her tugging at her bonds. Tensing muscles ridged the firm, snowy flesh of her inner thighs, too.
He smiled. "She is not so calm as she wishes to appear," he told his men. "Note her arms and legs-tug away, Princess. You'll not break those ropes-you'll only mark your pretty wrists and slender little ankles! Nor will anyone come," he said, making her twitch as he ran a hand up one thigh and over her light-haired vulva, all pink and wet-looking where her bound ankles forced its mouth ajar. "This mine has not been in operation for two years. But we have kept this cabin up, and furnished, you see. No one knows we are here and no one will come."
He wanted to make her jerk and cringe and whimper before he rammed his cock up her haughty pussy.
"We will not be interrupted. First I will push my cock up your little pink fuck hole, and fill you full of good Espanian seed! Then it will be Gaston's turn. And then Caballo and you will see then why he is content to wait until last. Imagine the amount of slime that will dribble out of your well-fucked gulley, then, Princess! Hm?"
She stared at him. She shuddered. That was all. And he was tired of waiting. Teasing her, trying to break her was fun. But lust was a stronger force in him. He wanted, very badly, to fuck this proud American bitch and make her squirm and whimper.
Most of all, he wanted to plug himself into her and lie on that entrancing, sensuous body!
Bending over her on his knees, he set the darkened, distended crown of his cock between the dainty love lips, in the half-open slit they hemmed. Her breasts trembled as she pulled in a deep breath in apprehensive anticipation of his entry.
But he paused there for a moment, gazing down at their linked flesh. The pretty pink of her splayed-apart labia was so delicate, so small and vulnerable-looking on either side of the bloated glans. Even the moist, rather more red flesh inside the gorgeous crease of her pussy was not so dark as his fat Espanian cock. The little inner lips, red and raggedly scalloped, seemed to flutter fearfully in expectation of the fiery pole of thick, hard flesh he would soon drive between them.
"You decided to wait till tomorrow, Edmunto?" Gaston snarled. "Come, drop it in and fuck her ragged before I jizz off all over the ceiling."
Edmunto jerked his heated gaze from the enticing spectacle of her open, waiting cunt. He stared at Gaston, who had his own big hard-on out and was fondling it nervously.
"If you're in such a hurry, amigo, jack it off over her face and see if she licks her lips."
Gaston clamped his mouth and sighed. The scar down his face was dark as his face flushed with lust. "Ah, I'll wait. But
"
Thinking she was sufficiently off guard to give him a nice reaction, Edmunto chose that moment to drive his cock up the cunt of the Princess.
The thick knob-headed bone stabbed home in a rush. It stretched and strained dainty tissues as it steamed way up inside her. She groaned beneath the lashing fury of his deep-driving horn ramming murderously up the deep hollow of her vulva.
Then he drove the breath completely out of her by falling forward onto her, full length. Lancets of pain jammed through her chest as he came smacking down onto the fleshy domes of her tits. The resilient flesh desperately sought relief without splitting, squinting out to either side in distended white ridges.
The membranes of her helplessly accessible cunt had been far from erotically stimulated, far from lubricated sufficiently for the ravaging brutality of that sudden jolting entry. It hurt. Her sensitive sexual folds flinched and fluttered around a hot throbbing sex pole that felt like a burning wooden brand up her belly.
"Uh . . . unnnnngghhh," she groaned out through the stocking gag, in pain and revulsion and the humiliation of total helplessness.
Riding her tits as they rolled around beneath his shirt-clad chest, he began fucking strongly, swiftly in and out of her cunt's flinching, quivering flesh. He shoved his burning cock in and out of the gaping lips with rapid thrusts of his pelvis that carried him all the way into her.
She shuddered and quavered under him, feeling her unprepared cunt stretch hugely around the impatient joint he rammed violently in and out of her. "Ah, agh!" he grunted, and tunneled far up inside her with brutal lunges.
"Do you feel it, cunt? Can you feel that big piece of Espanian meat up inside your pulpy gulch? Do you? Then-act-like-it!" he grunted, slashing ferociously in and out of her straining, flinching cunt with each word.
Suddenly he wanted to hear her groans and sighs, and he reached up to jerk the stocking out of her mouth. Her tongue ran around her lips several times, trying to assuage the arid dryness of her long-gagged mouth.
"I .. . feel your . . . putrid organ, cerdo!"
His eyes blazed. "Cerdo!" He stared around at the other two men. Caballo was unconcernedly cleaning his nails with his knife, the same one he had used on Morgana Tovares. "Cerdo!" Edmunto repeated. "She called me Pig-'"
Gaston shrugged, gave him a thin smile. "In her country, it means 'Policia,' " he said.
"Not in my country!" Edmunto stormed, and he reared above her, getting onto his knees.
There was fear in her blue eyes, now. She knew she had gone too far. She felt a sudden sharp pressure at the very top of the slit he had plumbed so violently. Strained by his kneeling up, his cock popped out of her and snapped up against his belly with a loud smack.
Kneeling over her, he then slapped her breasts repeatedly, back and forth. The stinging slaps smarted and throbbed wickedly. Shot through with excruciating anguish and pain, she screamed and pleaded for mercy.
"No, stop, plea-A A AH! OH-AOWWW!"
He loved her cries and the wild look in the poor girl's eyes. Her contorting face and loud cries filled him with exultation and a feeling of power. His cock pounded and jumped wildly.
He smacked her tits, again, again, until they were quivering balls of fire and felt swollen twice their size. Both boiling mounds of flesh were reddened from the violent contact of rough, calloused hands.
Yet . . . hot flickers danced in her belly and the deeply pink points of her tits lengthened and hardened, helplessly and without her will, into twin red thrusts of desire that attracted his eyes.
He bent and worried both of them with his teeth, bringing renewed cries and thrashings from his helplessly bound victim.
Then, crawling forward to rub his trousered butt over her drum-taut belly, he wrapped his hand around his cock and jerked it furiously.
It was something she had never seen before. She knew it was male masturbation. He was jacking off! He disdained to shove his tool back up in her pussy, which was secreting in anticipation of his entry. Then her eyes flared as realization hit her. But-he was so close! It would
It did. Suddenly the little red hole in the end of his tumid cock opened up like a tiny cunt. Instantly a hosing squirt of white syrup leaped out and struck her full in the face.
"Cerdo!" He grunted, as another jolt of hot cum rifled up the barrel of his cock, arced through the air, and struck her-mouth! "Cerdo!" he grunted again: "Pig! Pig!"
Another spurt of semen splatted warmly into the hollow of her throat. Then another, plopping into the valley of her reddened breasts, part of it smacking the inner surface of one throbbing bowl-like mound and trickling down into the cleavage.
The rest of his load, less violently shot, dribbled over her upper abdomen.
She was utterly degraded, trying to stifle the sobs that racked her as he spurned her womanly hollow and spermed off over her face and bosom. She gasped in shock and a terrible humiliation and refused to acknowledge the sexual thrill that went through her beaten, semen-spotted, defiled body.
He left her, dragging his shod foot over her cringing belly as he got off the bed.
"Give me that!" He snatched Gaston's whip and whirled back to their quaking captive. He brandished the whip, staring into blue eyes wide with terror.
"There is cum on your lip! I shot it there, from this cock that is too good for your slimy snatch! Lick it off, bitch, American bitch, lick it off and swallow my cum, cunt, or I'll use Gaston's whip to cut your puddings of tits open! Now!"
She had seen the glob of semen coming. She had felt it strike her lip, as the previous one had struck her cheek, just under her eye. She still felt the wetness on her mouth. His come, he had said. His semen, his sperm, his sticky slicky male seed. A half-million potential Espanians. And he wanted her to lick it, to swallow it, like the girl Peggy in the book she'd been reading when this half-bald man and his minions had burst in on her. Peggy had even been forced to accept male organs in her mouth . . . Claudine shuddered.
One drop. One drop of slimy male seed. She must either demean herself by letting them see her put out her tongue and lap it up like a cat lapping milk, or ... he would whip her breasts.
No! She couldn't!
He could, and would. The whip flashed down and fell in a slashing jolt of paralyzing pain. Its leather kiss snapped across both her tormented tits and its tip was like a pin stab when it slapped her side, just below the bulging, pain-filled mound "of her right breast.
She convulsed violently, every muscle going taut as she jerked at her bonds. Her gaping mouth released an anguished cry.
He dragged the whip back. It slithered across her heaving, pain-seized tits like a slim, obscene black serpent. The fiery pain remained, throbbing in its wake. His eyes were bright; the sight of her flesh quivering under the lash excited and stimulated him. And . . . more forceful than the throbbing pain, something like a torrent of fire swept over her belly and into her seething cunt.
She wished David were here. Her cunt burned with a growing longing.
My God, my God, she thought, they're defiling me, smacking me, making a slave of me and hurting me-and I want sex! I want . . . penis! Penis up my . . . my ... up my . . . my cunt!
"Aggghhhrrr!"
He had struck again. New fire sizzled through the luscious white hillocks of her silken-skinned tits. New fire swept through her belly and loins.
Utterly and nakedly exposed, cruelly and humiliatingly demeaned and beaten and commanded, she gave them a display of cringing humility.
Her tongue slithered out from between her quivering lips and swiftly picked up the little drop of sperm. She transfered it back into her mouth, trying not to taste it.
She frowned, amazed. It was tasteless. She swallowed, more than once.
"Jesus!" Gaston cried, rushing around Edmunto and mounting the bed. "Let me in this sexy bitch!"
He came into her as fast as he'd come onto the bed. Immediately propping himself above her semen-glistening, whip-marked jugs with his palms on the bed, he began pummeling his cock in and out of her.
It sluiced about in a squishy sex hole that was an absolute lake of oily cuntal secretions. He fucked rapidly, frantically, with fierce jerking thrusts of his tight-clenched ass cheeks and ramming hips.
His piercing. strokes sent his big hard tool slithering deeply into the wet, encompassing hole of her loins.
The red lips peeled back, seeming to cringe softly as he fucked between them.
His butt jerked up and down and in and out. He punched hard into that satin-sheathed crevasse, reveling in the heated, juicy wet flesh slot his eager cock plunged hotly through.
It was marvelous. It was every man's dream, pile-driving his swollen tool into the sloshy pink pussy of the beautiful and haughty wife of the American ambassador! Gaston fucked her fast and hard, so fast and hard that he came in a minute, like a seventeen-year-old, and shot her softly rippling belly full of good old Espanian baby juice.
"Ah-a-a-ahhhh!" he gasped, flopping weakly onto her magnificent body and pressing his lips to the quivering line of her jaw. He tasted salt, from her tears. Her tears, he thought. Tears. She was not even sweating.
Angrily, he pulled his flaccid, semen-dripping cock out of her. "She isn't even sweating! She's a woman of ice."
"A woman?" Edmunto said. He had lighted a cigar, put down the whip, and was more relaxed as he sat in an old wicker chair. "Woman? No, Gaston, amigo ... she is only a body. A hole with a body built around it. Pity the American ambassador, Gaston . . . for he had for a wife only a beautiful but lifeless Barbie doll!"
On the bed, Claudine burst into a new fit of anguish, weeping.
Caballo stood up. "I," he said, "want her from behind."
Edmunto walked over to look down at their weeping captive.
"You hear that? Caballo wants to fuck your cold cunt from behind. He does not care to look at you while he fucks you. He wishes to fuck you from behind . . . like a dog, like a female dog . . . bitch!"
She rolled her head loosely back and forth, whimpering in fear and humiliation and feverish anguish.
Bending, Edmunto seized one naked breast, squeezing the foam-rubbery flesh viciously before bringing one sweet pink tip into quivering life with the rough movements of his fingers.
Wretchedly embarrassed, she turned her head to the wall.
His pincer like fingers tormented the tremulous lilac petals until she groaned at the sharp, stabbing pain. A series of chills seized her.
For God's sake . . . why did this sort of bestial treatment fill her loins with thrilling sensual excitement?
The huge man called Caballo was untying her ankles. When they were both free, she dragged them together-and sobbed at the squishy sound and the feel of sticky wetness on her inner thighs. She went silent in shocked horror at the ugly realization that she was lying there leaking the semen of two men.
And soon . . . three. . . .
Edmunto left off tormenting her quaking tits. He released her right hand while Caballo untied the other. Caballo loomed over her. She stared up at his massive face.
"Turn over."
Very willing to hide her naked breasts and the semen-trickling slice of her vaginal mouth from them, she turned over onto her stomach. But she grunted when she felt a swift prickle of pain in her lashed, squeezed, mauled tits.
She lay there with her legs together, trying to pretend they weren't all looking at her naked ass, trying to avoid the stark, ugly reality of what was happening to her.
A hand passed over the upthrusting hills of her naked, gloriously swelling butt. A disbelieving shudder of terrible anguish rippled through her; otherwise, she didn't move.
The hand was very big. It was warm. It patted her ass.
"Up on your hands and knees," a voice said. Caballo's. His voice was strangely tenor, for a man his size. "Get your ass up." She trembled.
"Please," she choked out. "Please leave me alone. Please don't make me do that. Just . . . oh, please let me alo-o-one!"
The hand that smacked down on her bare bottom made a frightfully loud noise that stung viciously.
"Ah-how?"
"Up on your hands and knees," Caballo repeated.
Why didn't he just drag her up, she thought. There were three of them and she was naked and completely helpless. Why did he have to add to her shame and anguish by ordering her to assume an obscene and degrading position with her tits hanging and her smooth, well-arced arse in the air like . . . like a bitch in heat, waiting for every panting dog in the neighborhood ?
"You'd better get your white ass in the air, Princess," Edmunto said, "if you want it to stay white!"
She whimpered. She closed her eyes tight and tightened her fingers in the bed's age-gray sheet. Her body trembled as she firmed her mind and sought the strength to do what they told her to.
All I have to do is push up with my hands, she told herself, and then bend my knees. . . . Oh, no! She heard the whistling song of the whip, tensed, then shrieked as the fiery lash slapped crisply across the matched mountains of her ass.
Her entire body jerked, rocking with hot waves of pain, the streaked bottom flesh dancing even as she tensed the cheeks together. She felt the whip slide across her smarting skin and she wriggled her ass in helpless provocation.
Then, keeping her eyes shut, she lurched up onto her hands and knees on the bed. She got her knees under her, thrusting out the succulent swells of her tremorous bottom.
Caballo caught his breath. This was beauty! This was an ass to put a pain in a man's balls like a knife thrust! Licking his lips, he reached out and placed both hands on that lovely, proffered bare bottom. The kneeling blonde gasped and her soft rearward curves yielded, wobbling a little and tightening automatically.
The tense taut muscularity of those large white ovals astonished him. Under the unwonted caresses of his hands, she contracted them to the hardness of white footballs. Beneath their exciting curves was slung the blond-furred purse of her vulva, the lips well-defined, slightly parted, wet and flecked visibly with the semen from Gaston's cock.
She had come to terms with herself. Wretched with trepidation and shame, she resigned herself to do their bidding. Otherwise, she knew they would only force her, and that would mean more pain. Perhaps if she put up a show of resignation, willingness, they would not be so savage with her.
There were three of them. They had brought her here naked, bound, and in a big cloth bag. Even if it were possible for her to elude them somehow, she had no place to go-and she'd still be naked and barefoot. They wanted her body. Her only choice was to cede it to them. That way, though they would use it as their plaything, they at least would have no cause to whip and tear at her with their rough hands and hornlike nails.
So she knelt there with her ass in the air while Caballo pulled out his cock.
Perhaps it was a kindness he had done her. At least on her knees this way, she could not see the prodigious proportions of the mighty organ he was about to send plowing into her silky little furrow!
And it was time. The sight of that lovely, submissive body with the beautifully upturned naked ass had Caballo's lust boiling, and he didn't wait another second.
He parted the tremulous lips and started shoving his mammoth cock into her intimate cleft. She grunted, moaned . . . but took it, remaining still, kneeling there while he dicked her from behind. His vastly swollen knob pushed aside tendrils of blond hair like nylon thread as his big prong sought out the soft, pulsating vaginal tissues.
She knew it was big. She could feel the terribly hot shaft distending her soft sexual flesh as he drove deeper to anchor it in her. Farther and farther it pushed, into that moist, dark cave . . . the bludgeoning thickness of it was a burning fire deep in her stretched cunt.
She knew she was spreading around a very big cock.
But had she been able to see the hugeness of that swollen, bulging, blood-distended club, she would undoubtedly have screeched in fear, knowing it was impossible, and lurched forward on the bed of her sorrow and humiliation.
But she couldn't, and a woman's cunt was well designed to spread to a capacity undreamed of by its owner.
Claudine Brooks' cunt took Caballo's big horse cock, all right.
Her inner vagina opened to accept his thickened log and actually seemed to gulp at the hot, rigid thickness that slid into the fevered pink-ness of her love pocket.
Then he ground it in, squashing her ass cheeks and forcing the full length of that fleshy pike up her humid, clinging cunt.
She took it with deep embarrassment, a bit of pain, and a sheer delight of a need that she hated to admit even to herself. And she wondered, would her cunt return to its normal slitted beauty, after being dilated by this mighty organ? Would the beautiful curved slopes of her outthrusting ass ever be the same again, after the grinding of his huge body?
Involuntary gasps issued from her pretty pink mouth as he began rummaging in and out of her snatch, probing the red wound between her legs with a cock capable of digging its own wound.
Her eyes stared down at the bed.
She dared not raise them. She did not want to see the leering of Edmunto and Gaston as she knelt naked with her ass in the air and was fucked like a bitch in heat.
There was no way for her to avoid pleasure. A frigid woman or a virgin might have. But Claudine was far from frigid and far from virginal. She was a woman who had been fruitlessly in search of an orgasm for sixteen years, ever since she was thirteen.
He kept rocking back and forth behind her, pushing and shoving each inthrust, making certain that he was completely submerged in the now-gaping hole between her thighs.
He pulled, and the clutching lips of her tremulous slit clung to the retreating girth of his enormous prick, the sweet, shell-pink folds distending outward from her vulva.
His hands clutched the inner surfaces of her tensing thighs. His hairy knuckles brushed her belly. He felt it shaking and squirming as he poled in and out of her with passion-driven strokes.
His eyes bulged wide in hot desire.
Her thighs and buttocks were swept wide by the big hot pole of the man tunneling mercilessly up into her body from behind.
His hands clutched pulpy white flesh as he drove it in. He tugged her back and felt the warm, soft flanges of her cunt close moistly over him.
The ragged edges and membranous walls of her inner pussy caressed his huge throbbing cock.
She moaned and squirmed as the hot thick truncheon in her violated vagina grew and expanded with his ferocious assault until she was stretched and filled beyond anything she had thought possible.
But her body was betraying her, whorishly moistening, flowering, welcoming the big probe into its tight depths.
Make me come, big cock, she thought, wanting to move but not doing so because she was, after all, being raped. Make me come with that big hot cock, you big hot cocksman!
A sound of pleasure and hope gurgled in her throat. Her whole body was enveloped in the seething lust of unappeased desire. She was trembling with passion and she sought some way to move without their knowing it.
"Uh!" Caballo grunted, in surprise and something approaching pain.
Her cunt had squeezed him. She had actually exercised control over the muscles inside her sexual sheath to make her tight cunt clamp even more tightly!
It was the wrong thing to do. Better to have hit upon some means to prolong his fucking, rather than increase the pressure and friction around his already boiling cock.
He groaned again, dragged her back against him, and shivered all over as he went into a strange orgasm. He could feel her contracting, squeezing cunt, slowly sucking out his semen!
It went on and on, with his belly and big thighs pressed tightly into her buttocks while her cunt sucked him off.
Emptied at last, he pulled his cock slushily out and watched his cum drool, like rich yellow-white cream, out of the gaping mouth of her pillaged pussy. He's gone, she thought desperately. It was over. She hadn't made it. She'd gone so high, come so close, and once again she had failed to achieve the exquisite soul-shuddering release of climax.
She sank forward and lay pitifully on her belly with her face turned to the wall. They saw the quaking of her body and they heard her sobs. But none of them guessed, this time, the reason for her sorrow.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Internal Security Chief Martinez gazed sadly at David Brooks.
"It happened something like this, Senor Ambassador," he said. "The doctor took a sperm sample from the, ah, anus of your late cook. The flesh of her, ah, canal had been torn, but there was very little blood. She had been buggered-after she was slain. A little checking and we learned that the semen came from your man Dolfo. He has advised us, after a bit of . . . persuasion and a few promises that it was he who killed both Juan and Estrelita."
"And my wife? What about Mrs. Brooks?"
Martinez sighed and shook his head. "All Dolfo has told us is that two men named Gaston and Edmunto promised him much money to aid them in kidnapping the Senora Brooks."
"That's it? That's all-kidnap? Christ, that's enough, but
"
Martinez spread his hands. "Naturally we suspect as you do, Senor Ambassador. But Senor Herrera is most powerful, and he is feared. We suspect him in this case, as we do in the rape of Senor Buchanan's daughter. But -we cannot prove anything. And we are unfortunately unable to . . . use any form of persuasion on Senor Herrera."
David nodded, with his jaws clenched tightly. "I'll stay at home. Hopefully I'll get a phone call demanding ransom."
He and Martinez stood, Martinez told him how sorry he was and promised to do all possible, and David went home. Somehow, he knew that ransom wasn't what the kidnapers of his wife were after-at least, not ransom for money.
He telephoned the Soviet consul, Yuri Babaikov. They were not enemies ... in truth, who could say whether their countries were?
David could tell that Babaikov's emotion was real: the Russian was horrified.
He had no way of knowing that Babaikov, as soon as their conversation was ended, telephoned Raul Herrera.
"You would do well to return the Seiiora Claudine Brooks to her home or deliver her to a telephone at once," Babaikov said coldly. "Then you would do well to make yourself very, very scarce!"
Herrera began packing at once.
The mine had been abandoned years before. Much of what had been left had been carried off. But this cabin, high up in the San Juanito hills, had been preserved, and its furnishings maintained. The three men in Herrera's eraploy, Edmunto, Gaston, and Caballo, had taken Claudine to the cabin in one car, which was now well hidden. Too, Edmunto kept the keys in his pocket at all times. They had plenty of food, and both water and wine as well as some brandy, and they had the ethereally beautiful woman they had all raped.
Naked, Claudine Brooks remained beautiful, though "ethereal" was no longer the proper word. Her blond hair, thick but very fine, hung loosely down her back in a mist-in a way she had never worn it in public. Her large moon-shaped tits jiggled free and unfettered and erotically, humiliatingly naked. The womanly swell of her hips was a constant delight and sensual goad to her captors; the firm twin jut of her buttocks was an irresistible challenge.
Edmunto decided to enter the delicate little tubeway between them. He would fuck the unattainable Princess again-this time up the asshole.
The brief nap she had enjoyed after all three of her captors had depleted their sexual resources in her body rejuvenated Claudine. She made a valiant effort to return to her former self.
Imperiousness does not go well with nudity. Even the former American president had lost much by displaying his appendectomy scar on his naked, sloppy fat belly. He was never again the same image to the millions who had seen that picture. He was just another fat old man, peasant enough to hike up his shirt and show his operation scar.
Claudine wasn't just another naked woman, she was a magnificent and sexually thrilling one. But she was bedraggled, straggly of hair and still semen-stained, and she could not play the haughty role of the ambassador's wife, not with the three men who had shoved their lustful cocks up her soft damp pussy and turned it slimy with their sperm.
"Oh, shut up and stop being silly," Gaston said, and he slapped her face so that her hair flew.
Absolutely astounded at being slapped in her face, Claudine froze, staring, for a few seconds. Then she struck back.
She was swiftly grabbed, slapped across the breasts, forced down onto her knees before the bed with her hands outstretched and firmly gripped by Caballo, on the other side of the bed. Then Gaston gave her five excellent whiplashes across the cheeks of her helplessly upturned bottom.
SWISH, and SPLAT, the leather strap snapped across the snowy ovals of her flanks. The kneeling woman ripped out an awful groan and shivered and writhed as her body radiated urgent messages of pain to her confused, reeling brain.
Thick dark welts spanned the tight crack of her ass as the leather strap smacked her bare cheeks and slithered obscenely down the steep curves.
Her attitude and demeanor changed quickly. She groveled, moaning. Another blow fell, then another, the final lash that made her butt bounce and left still another scarlet stripe. Rearing up convulsively, she screamed. Then she slumped helplessly back down and lay weakly forward across the bed, moaning softly. Her butt remained upturned, the cheeks drawn very tight and the whole broad expanse of luscious ass flesh wagging slowly in an apparent attempt to cool itself.
The sad eyes that gazed across the bed at Caballo were tearful and supplicating. She was miserably spent, weakened, and her whipped backside stung abominably. She knew that the palpitating mounds of leather-marked flesh poked out in an obscene, wanton posture.
All pretense of fight and hauteur had fled her tormented, quivering body.
She acknowledged defeat and captivity. These men were her masters, they and their whip and their cocks. She could only wait now, to be impaled and used as they wished.
And something about her degrading weakness made her breasts tighten and throb and her cunt itch.
From behind, Edmunto reached down to her. His hand shot out to seize the mass of pale hair. He yanked it back and down, forcing her strained and tear-stained face to stare up at him. She was gasping, her Adam's apple thrusting at her throat. He held her immobile in that painful, neck-straining position, knowing quite well that he was cutting off her breath. Her straining tits jutted excitingly, and Caballo grinned; their pretty pink noses seemed to be pointing directly at him, as if choosing him for their attention. He gave them his, realizing that they were slightly distended.
He frowned slightly. He had known a woman once, whose nipples hardened and fattened when she underwent pain and enforced submission. She had been a superb sex partner, but after a few years he had tired of her- mainly because she was also stupid-and he had given her the supreme agony: he beat her to death.
"Senora," Edmunto told her, "my cock wants sucking. You have a choice, of course. You can begin now, immediately, or you can take a few more lashes across your ass. I feel that I should tell you, though, that it is already striped and another ten lashes may well wash your so-soft flesh with blood."
She shuddered. Her face and throat worked. She tried to reply. But because of the way she was held, with her neck bowed, she was incapable of speech.
"I need no answer," Edmunto told her, determined to break her utterly. "If you refuse, I shall know when I seat myself on the edge of the bed in front of you. I shall also know if you choose cock over more lashes-because you will at once put your mouth to work on my organ!"
"I hope she refuses," Gaston said quietly, and the whip made a little slithery-swishy noise on the cabin's plank floor.
Edmunto released Claudine's hair. Her face and shoulders flopped forward onto the bed and her naked body quaked as she swallowed and gasped for breath, again and again. Behind her, Edmunto dropped his pants, kicked them off. Then he stepped around her, mounted the bed, and scooted forward so that his legs flanked her kneeling body.
"Well?"
Slowly, the shamefaced woman raised her head. Her cheeks were streaked and shiny with tears of suffering, both mental and physical. On her quaking knees before the seated man, she stared at his crotch.
She sobbed in her shame and despair.
His prick was a long thick worm, a dark-skinned slug that was neither totally relaxed nor erect. Its base was a riot of wiry black hair that nearly obscured the long, wrinkled bag of his balls. The glans was like the head of a cobra, a rounded heart shape with a single reddish eye.
A male organ; a penis, a prick, a dork, a cock. Waiting for the soft caress of her mouth. She had never had a cock in her mouth. Not even her husband's, and this was a stranger's tool. Also . . . she knew that it had last been housed in her cunt, and that it had not been washed since. It must contain the dried remnants of her own secretions, as well as his semen. This relaxed, rather vulnerable-looking emblem of masculinity had last been before her eyes when it spat its sticky seed onto her face and breasts.
He had made her lick the semen off her lips. She remembered that it had been nigh onto tasteless.
She swallowed and licked her lips. Her eyes rolled up to his dark ones. They stared implacably at her. Then they lifted to look past and behind her.
"Gaston
"
She jerked as though she had already felt the whistling descent of the lash. "No!" she groaned. "No! I-I will!"
Slowly, her lips parted. Her tearful blue eyes stared. Her naked body trembled and she was aware of the bed's pressure against the chalky skin of her bosom. She knelt before him like a slave. And she could not even take her time; she had to begin at once, or suffer another stinging flash of pain across her backside.
With tears streaming unrestrainedly down her cheeks, she tilted her head forward to his crotch. Her dainty tongue slipped out to wet her lips nervously.
Edmunto shuddered when he felt the coiling pressure of her moist tongue encircling his swollen cock crown. Sniffling in her humiliated anguish and enforced phallic worship, she began licking and sucking her mouth full of hot, pulse-pounding cock.
Her nostrils quivered as they were assailed by the acrid odor of musky, unwashed crotch.
Her mouth absorbed the livid head of his cock. She could feel it growing in her face.
He sighed and stared excitedly down at the beauty, the intensely arousing spectacle of those tight little lips closing over the head of his meat.
"Suck it," he ordered. "Put some skin around it, Yanqui cunt!"
With a little shiver and a muted whimper, she began sucking his cock up. It twitched. She felt his heartbeat pulsing through the now swelling length. She sucked. Saliva filled her mouth and she swirled it around his thickening, vibrant pole of lust.
The seated man's prick thickened, lengthened, throbbed, and gave little twitching jerks within the sweet chambering haven of her mouth.
His cock became too much for her face. As it grew thicker and longer, more and more of its dilated length appeared. It formed an obscene bridge between his crotch and her face.
His hand rushed out to grip her hair and he tugged it closer. At the same time he hunched a bit, and she got an extra inch of meat far back in her mouth.
She gagged. Her hands twitched at the bed, trying to push back and not daring to do so. She fought back, desperately, the contents of her roiling stomach.
"Bite it," he said quietly and without audible malice, "and I will slap you silly and then jam it down your throat."
Her head lifted. Her mouth was wide stretched to accommodate his straining hugeness. Her gaze met his.'
"Now," he said, "be still. Hold your mouth very wide, while I fuck it."
She blinked and strained her jaws. He-he was going to ... to fuck her mouth?! He began shoving his big, fatly turgid cock in and out of the oscular pit of her head while he watched her face with eyes that were smoldering pools of lust; watched her distended mouth engulf his tumid meat while her eyes spilled tears.
He shoved in and out, feeling her lips and watching them tuck back as his cock staff ran in, then stretch out along it like the lips of a tight cunt when he pulled it partway back again. He felt the softness of her tongue, quivering along the lower surface of his throbbing meat. He felt her teeth, but their abrasive slide along the fucking shaft was not painful, only an additional sexually arousing pressure.
He felt a pressure in his nuts, too, as his loose-swinging ball sac drubbed her chin and smeared it with her own saliva.
Beginning to experience spasmodic little tremors and flashes of lust of his guts, he remembered his intention to bugger the gringo, bitch. So he ceased his movements. Waiting until she rolled her eyes questioningly up to his, he pulled his bulging tool out of her head.
Then he pushed her pretty cock-sucking face down onto the bed and rose, straddling her as he moved off the bed and around behind her.
"Give me the whip, Gaston," he said. "And take my place. It is your turn to have your cock sucked. She isn't a bad cock sucker. A bit inexperienced, perhaps, but she is willing, and she does try. Also, as we have all known for years, she has a big mouth!"
The kneeling blonde quaked. But she made no sound. Fear of the whip had reduced her to fearful submission. And besides . . . there was a frantic yearning in her. . . .
Gaston dropped his pants and took up Edmunto's place on the bed. His dark-furred legs slid around her soft naked body. She did not look up at his scarred face. She only stared at his cock.
Then, numbly and without hesitation, she showed them that she was completely conquered.
She shoved her mouth up his prick.
It had no need of being aroused, as Edmunto's had. Gaston's penis had come up into fine erection while he whipped her, and watching her suck Edmunto, watching Edmunto fuck her face, had kept it that way.
Now, seated comfortably on the edge of the bed in the spot warmed by his cohort's naked ass, Gaston watched his own great shaft of angry red flesh split her delicately pursed lips to be swallowed up inside her gently sucking mouth.
"Suck, cock," he told her roughly. "I want to feel your tonsils all around the head!" She sucked cock.
Behind her, Edmunto bent and slipped his hands in between her kneeling thighs and her bowed body. He began to lift her. With a moaning sound, she maintained her oral grip on the other man's penis while her ass was elevated until her legs were straight up and down and her torso was a long, smooth line running down from her tight-stretched, unturned butt to the great swirl of blond hair all around Gaston's cock.
Gaston sat there delighted. He had never in all his Espanian peasant's dreams pictured a time when he would sit with his thick dark tool sticking out of the beautiful face of a blond north americana, and especially one who was the daughter of much wealth and the wife of the ambassador-a double symbol of both the United States and of capitalism!
Behind her stood Edmunto, gazing down into the crack of the whip-streaked white ass cheeks that swung in the air before him without hesitation or interruption-or any protection whatever for her dainty little asshole and the lightly furred pouch of her sex slit that seemed to push backward as if in invitation.
He trembled all over at the thought of the girl standing thus, bent far forward in total submission, her mouth in use by Gaston and her anus and pussy waiting to be used as Edmunto wished. He locked his hot-eyed gaze on her full ass. The skin was stretched very tightly over the large white ovals. He noted the way it swooped into a waist that looked as though it had been cinched from birth to make it abnormally tiny and waspish.
He put his hands onto the flaring rounds of her ass.
She jerked at the touch, and her buttocks clenched together against the pressure of his thumbs. He eased off only slightly, pulling the cheeks apart without viciousness, maintaining a steady tension for many seconds until he could see the straining muscles of the girl's snowy inner thighs relaxing, slowly, tiring and easing their clench, little by little.
Now the hair-lined slit that opened into her smoldering, pliant vaginal passage parted. Her spongy, pink cuntlips moistly unfurled. Willingly or otherwise, her cunt was flowering open to him.
He stepped forward and, easily, shoved his cock into the long pink-lined slit.
"Uh!" the girl grunted, as she felt her warm nest once again prodded open by the solid cylinder of a lust-congested masculine probe. He sank it in until he stood with his body pressed tightly against her upturned ass cheeks.
Gaston dropped his hand to her head and threatened her by gathering up a handful of blond hair.
"Suck, bitch! Keep your hands on the bed beside my legs to hold yourself up-this is what it's like to be a whore and accommodate two men at once!"
She made a sobbing sound-and sucked cock while she was fucked from behind.
Edmunto was pleasantly surprised to find her pussy's channel full of her secretions, wet and very warm. He pushed his cock in and out several times; making sure it was coated with her cunt juice. At the same time, he slid both hands around her hips and got a firm grip on the sweetly rounded fronts of each of her thighs. They were quivering with the strain of holding her up in this strange position-and with the slippery sliding of his cock in and out of her drenched cuntal pocket.
Now their captive was pleasing both Edmunto and Gaston very much. She was making little moaning sounds from the throat, emerging around Gaston's big prick, and she was moving slightly-definitely in a sort of rhythm with Edmunto's skewering fucking movements against her back as he slicked his powerful penis in and out of her slitted pussy.
Holding the girl so that she would not be able to jerk away in mindless reaction, Edmunto pulled his cock out of her.
He smiled. Yes, she definitely pushed herself back a little, an almost imperceptible movement that sent her cunt after his retreating cock. He smiled, too, at its appearance: it was all glistening and slimy-looking, utterly coated and practically dripping with pussy juice.
Raising his arm slightly, he shoved. The blond woman was relaxing, having accepted his cock into her cunt with apparent relish, raised in spite of herself to a voluptuous excitement dictated by her sensuous body.
She was relaxed . . . everywhere. The tight flesh ring of her anus oozed firmly over the head of his prick, without a fight! But she felt it!
"Umm-m-m-mmmMMMHHH!" she moaned, jerking violently.
Gaston grabbed her hair in both hands. "Be still, Yanqui bitch! Suck cock!"
"Mmmmmmf f-gl-lllff f mmm!"
She could feel the pain, like icy stabs, of his great cock opening up a passage that had never been entered-not even by so much as her own husband's finger. She remembered he had started to slip a finger up her there, once, when they were balling. She had stopped him, violently.
Now she was sure she felt a yard of thundering male tool inside her squirming asshole.
He could feel her tightening up, now. At the same time she was straining forward, so that he had to hold her back by exerting both hands against her thighs and lower belly. His fingers gouged into satiny-soft skin. He strained forward with his body; pulled back with his hands.
Twisting, he watched with flushed face as his powerful grinding shoves made his plundering cock disappear slowly up her reluctant asshole. His intense urgency began to become an overpowering need.
Caballo watched while their lovely captive sucked Gaston's big root and took Edmunto's up the ass. He was still thinking about her apparent reactions to the hard whip strokes; her thickened, hardened nipples. Nodding to himself, he walked around the bed to join Edmunto behind her. The two men exchanged glances.
Then Caballo sat down on the floor, beside the upside-down V of the woman's strenuously bent body. From here he could see that her large bowl-shaped milk wagons had lengthened into elongated white cylinders. They swung beneath her, forced into a swinging joggle now as Edmunto began fucking her ass, attaining its depths.
Caballo reached out and up and caught hold of both her fulsome, pendulous tits. Her body jerked as she felt this fresh violation of her helplessness. He squeezed. Her entire form jerked and rippled with tremors as his big fingers dug into the spongy resiliency of her dangling tits. He began moving his pressuring fingers, varying the individual pressure points that deeply dented the soft white skin and threatened to crush the firm flesh inside.
He mauled her lovely, juddering jugs until she moaned and shuddered and felt her blood coursing through her veins like hot wine. Spasmodic tremors flailed her inner cunt, creating a hot liquid seething within the warm chamber.
Caballo ducked his head and twisted it until he was able to see the pretty lips of her blond-furred pussy. They were gaping open, and even as he looked at them they seemed to be pulsing, working slightly, as though her pussy were seeking something to suck on.
This time she hardly jerked as he released one of her pain-filled tits and ran two fingers up her vaginal canal. His fingers pressed the soft, damp labia well apart and thrust deep up inside her.
"She likes it," Caballo said quietly. "She likes sucking cock and being fucked in the ass, aminos! She likes having her milk wagons hurt- and she likes having a couple of fingers up her pussy!"
"Your fingers?" Gaston asked. "Jesus!"
The moaning shuddering girl felt his cock lurch in her mouth. He was pressing it hard and deep, and she was slobbering all over the shaft so that spittle ran down it and matted the hair of his crotch. Tears flowed from her eyes and she sniffed; mouth and nose and eyes were all running with the pressure.
Behind her, Edmunto's big hard prick was exploring the depths of her bowels, spreading her wider and wider with each long stoking stroke.
His hands held the perfection of those resilient demiglobes well apart. His fingers moved to dimple their softness again and again in constantly applied pressures. All the while, his sweltering cock reamed her ass.
In her adjacent hollow, Caballo's big hot fingers were waggling around inside her cunt. Then, with his fingertip and harsh nail, he tickled her trembling, cringing cervix, deep inside her!
Half losing the cock in her face, she cried out and jerked violently.
She stood there, practically hanging over Edmunto's grasping hands, quivering and panting. Her body jerked again when Caballo popped both fingers all the way out without care for her discomfort at the sudden departure of his delving digits.
With that same wet hand, he reached out to slap her sharply across one hanging, swinging tit. The football-shaped beauty juddered and heaved in convulsive agony. Caballo watched it swing wildly back and forth, slapping against its twin.
Sweat streamed out of her armpits and rushed down the long thick cone of her pendent breasts. Sweat rolled off her face to add its wetness to the saliva in Gaston's crotch. Sweat rolled down her inner thighs and welled up internally to ease still more Edmunto's passage up her ass.
She began to move. Whining and whipping her body back and forth, she sucked hard at Gaston's cock and ran her asshole back and forth on Edmunto's. Her cunt drooled clear, thick liquid. Her tits swung and shuddered, and Caballo slapped them several more times, low, across the down-spearing nipples.
Gaston was nearly there. Her tongue-wiggling mouth ran over the turgid knob of his prick and she sucked hard. Her mouth slicked up and down the saliva-running pole. His nuts were tense and throbbing with passion and the need for release.
Then his cock went off up her mouth like a salvoing cannon.
A white jet stream of semen pulsed far up inside her hungry, clasping mouth until it foamed out between the soft lips spread so broadly around his upstanding prick.
Still moving her ass in swift little jerks, she kept working at the spurting cock, forcing out every drop of Gaston's semen. He panted and writhed in ecstatic fatigue.
Grasping her silky blond locks again in both hands, he pulled her head up off his spent peter, which came out of her mouth with a sound like an empty suction pump.
Thfs time she did not have to be told to lick the cum off her lips.
He stared at her flushed face. She sniffed. Her eyes and mouth and nose were running all over her face. She disgusted him. Shoving himself back, he slapped her face. His drooling cock dragged across the sheet between his thighs as he backed away.
Her head jerked sharply with his slap, and her hair flew in a pale cloud, although many strands now clung sweatily to her forehead and cheeks and neck and shoulders.
Caballo kept slapping her tits with one hand and teasing her pussy lips with the other.
Edmunto kept ramming his cock in and out of her squirming, enormously expanded asshole. It took his like a cunt, and felt no less capacious.
Forcing her to raise herself from the waist, Caballo slipped up beneath her, between her arms, and got his butt onto the bed. For a moment his dark eyes met hers. She blinked, still leaking tears.
"Put your hands on my thighs and keep them there," he said.
She did, biting her lip, and he slid his arms in between hers to get at her fiercely throbbing breasts again. He slapped, then squeezed, dragging his tight-clenching fingers down the dangling ovals until he was pinching and tugging at the scarlet nipples with the thumb and forefinger of each hand.
She gasped loudly. Then she moaned out, in a strangled whisper: "Yes! Hurt them! I- I'm going to make it-don't stop, oh don't stop!" Her voice was extremely intense.
She was piteous in her supplication and in her agony of both pain and joy. She had learned what it was her body wanted-and though she hated to admit it and had resisted with all her might, she now had to.
She began jerking back and forth, tearing her own breasts in and out of his hot painful grasp and ramming her own delicate anal passage along the sounding probe of Edmunto's cock.
Her mind was clouded with panic and fear and pain and the dizzying assault of lust. Thrills surged through her belly. Unappeased desire made her cunt drool and snap like an angry mouth. She had never been subject to such violent sexual excitement.
Her empty cunt, her full rectum, her lurching belly felt as though they would burst with passion and need. She squealed aloud, again and again.
"Jesus!" Edmunto grunted. He lunged into her moving asshole with all his might. His hard-plunging organ rammed like a pile driver into the deep cleavage of her sleek-cheeked ass, stretching it obscenely open.
The full pumping length of his cock stabbed deep between the white moons of her ass and filled her with each stroke, nestling itself far inside her quivering rectum.
Certain that she had it, that she had captured all of his meat and imprisoned it in her expanding asshole, she thrust herself swiftly and wildly back to swallow it utterly.
His cock started gunning sperm up her rectal channel. The swollen knob burst a flood of the glutinous liquid into the warm moist dark. She felt every spurt of it, her eyes and mouth bulging wide as it came rushing hotly into her, filling the depths of her bowels until she felt that they would burst with the sudden pressure.
Raised to a pinnacle of excitement by her sudden obvious lust, his balls utterly drained by her tight, sucking asshole, Edmunto sagged. His prick came flopping out of her anus with a sloppy sound and snapped down onto his emptied balls. Staggering, he backed up and sank into a chair. He sat there and stared at the gaping gulf between her buttocks. It was leaking his sperm down the crack and onto the furry pouch of her open-mouthed cunt.
"No, no, no!" she screamed. "Not enough- not enou-u-uugh! I didn't MAKE it! Ah-" And she began to sob loudly.
Jerking her forward onto him by pulling her tits, Caballo flopped backward onto the bed. She felt the big knob of his huge cock prod hard against her belly as she came down onto him.
"Stick it in," he told her. "Shove it up in you and ride it till you do make it, then!"
The frantic woman whimpered.
Now it was completely up to her. Now she not only had to admit her needs and her excitement-she had to take action to do something about it. Either that, or . . . languish here where she was, tetering on the very brink of the cliff of orgasm.
She sobbed aloud, hesitating, staring down at his big face.
CHAPTER NINE
David Brooks could think of only one thing, his kidnaped wife. He was with the police when George Buchanan tried to call him. Then Brooks went home to wait for the call from the kidnapers. He did not think of calling Buchanan at all. And Buchanan went after Herrera.
He was walking up the driveway toward the communist leader's big country house when he heard the throaty roar of the Mercedes engine. Buchanan stopped dead still. Lifting his rifle to his shoulder, he stood spraddle-legged, waiting. Not for long; the big car appeared around a bend in the tree-lined drive. Herrera was already accelerating recklessly.
He saw Buchanan, saw the leveled rifle, and swerved-even as the gun spat fire. The windshield starred in front of Herrera's face, all around the small hole in the glass. But Raul Herrera never felt the deadly shards of flying glass that cut his face to crimson ribbons.
Buchanan's bullet had taken him directly in the left eye and Raul Herrera was dead even before his car skittered sidewise into a tree that stove in the driver's side of the car. More blood pumped from his crushed body.
"Shit," Buchanan snarled. "In the movies the cars always burn!"
Then, knowing he was a murderer and feeling wholly justified, he trudged on up the road to Herrera's big house. He had committed a crime: murder. He'd never forget it. But- justice had been served. Courts only mucked things up; so did waiting for ambassadorial intervention. He, personally, had got the dirty bastard who had ordered the rape of his little girl.
Now he strode purposefully up onto Herrera's porch . . . the late Herrera's porch. What he wanted now was the names of Herrera's hirelings; the slime who had done the actual raping. Where would they be-they and Brooks' snooty wife, the Princess?
Feeling closer to orgasm that she ever had in her life, Claudine Brooks made her degrading choice. She could impale herself on the thick hard horse cock of the man called Horse, or she could stay hung up on the painfully anguishing brink of orgasm, as she had all her life.
Hair streaming, sticking to her with sweat, her mouth slackly open and her beautiful breasts bouncing and joggling, she crawled hurriedly up the body of the giant sprawled on his back on the rumpled old bed. He was smiling at her.
The man was so huge, his thighs so thick, that she had to strain her own to bestride them. When his upstanding club of a cock was directly beneath her loins, she squatted swiftly.
The luscious softness of her mound and its delicate pink lips rammed down, swift and straight, onto the plum-colored and lemon-sized head of his cock. Her resilient labia, glistening with the oil her cunt was secreting so copiously, were forced wide around that knobby head, then even wider around the thicker portion of his cock shank.
"Guhhhh!" she groaned, her eyes bulging, as she felt that big glans ram straight up into her, all the way into her, and bang into the spongy inner neck of her uterus.
Vibrating with passion, her vagina swelled and spread to incredible new dimensions, as long as the deepest well and hugely distended, to take all of him up into herself.
The whip-streaked white rounds of her sexy rump slapped down onto his thighs with a loud plop.
The head of his cock skidded off her cervix and found a new lodging place, hot and wet. She jerked, grinding herself down onto him as if to impale herself to the eyeteeth. That was her goal, to take him all and suck at him with her open, swollen cunt, seeking still more length of hot cock up the churning, hungry hole of her loins.
She began exerting the muscles in her thighs and calves, sliding her cunt up and down his scorching tool. Every up-and-down movement she made drew the throbbing invader up and down inside the soft-layered flesh of that humid funnel to her womb.
She bounced fiercely on his bludgeoning cock like a wild woman, like a female rapist, a beautiful blond barbarian who had somehow conquered this outsize male and was now trying to tear her pussy apart on the outsize weapon stabbing up between his legs.
All the while she never ceased moaning and gasping and grunting. She felt afire with the desire for lustful gratification that was raging in her boiling, juice-spurting cunt.
Caballo lay there happily on his back, watching her and thoroughly enjoying the sight and the sensation of this beautiful woman, once haughty and imperious and now aboriginally cock happy with an apparently insatiate lust, fucking herself on him with an absolute insanity of self-stabbing up-and-down plunges.
Edmunto and Gaston exchanged disbelieving glances. Then both of them grinned.
"Help her out, Caballo, you lazy bastard," Gaston grinned. "It isn't gentlemanly to let a woman do all the work!"
"Yeah, Caballo," Edmunto chuckled, "don't just lie there while she masturbates on you! Fuck the swivel-assed, gape-gashed bitch!"
Claudine shivered at their callous, demeaning words. But she heard her own voice, screechy and ugly: "Yes-yes, Caballo, damn you, oh, damn you, fuck me!"
He swung up one arm and slapped her left tit. After a loud, smacking sound, it was hurled against the right shapely half-globe with a new loud slap of flesh on flesh. Both satiny breasts swung and jumped wildly.
"Don't talk like that to me!" he snapped.
She moaned aloud, feeling the stinging pain and the gush of sexual pleasure. The pink hot flesh of both her nipples was swollen and bulging so colossally that she felt they must burst open and bathe the man beneath her with a gush of blood and the clear fluid of her milk ducts. The fatly engorged crowns ached ... as did her needful cunt ... as did her twitching clitoris.
"Move, you lazy bastard," she cried, bouncing, jamming her cunt full of hugely swollen cock. "Fuck me, damn you!"
"I said don't talk like that to me!" he snapped again, this time he slapped her tits harder.
Again her face contorted in pain and again both reddened jugs leaped and swung and rippled liquidly.
"Ah! Oh-oh, you low woman-hitting impotent son of a bitch!"
He reached up with both hands and grabbed her jiggly breasts. His firm, constricting grip made her groan huskily and roll her eyes as a fiery seizure of pain lanced through the shapely roundness of her taut tits.
Still riding his big cock with frantic plunges up and down her sweat-streaming body, she groaned at the pain. She clenched her teeth as she felt her inflamed, heaving breasts sending electric thrills through her entire nervous system.
They throbbed painfully and had her squirming in distress.
They throbbed sensually and had her squirming in pleasure.
She rode his crotch, cramming and pulling the entirety of his cock into her like a length of deeply pink hose. The sexy pink tips of her tits strained out above him, pulsing hotly out between his gouging fingers.
Flames of lust glowed in her eyes as his plunging pole pushed to its full slippery length up into her anxious cuntal hollow. Her flailing ass beat down on his thighs with noisy, sweat-wet smacks.
The swollen tissues of her swollen, pulsing pussy sank down over his meat and the pale nest of her vulva was pressed firmly against his own hairy crotch. She ground her loins down on his, circling his mighty cock around in herself. Convulsive twitches jerked through his well-clasped meat, and it pulsed and jumped up inside her.
With his big hairy hands wrapped around her aching breasts, he jerked her down onto him. She came with a gasping groan of shock and pain.
Gaston stood there and stared at the undulating, twin pillows of their captive's sexy butt bouncing and slithering around over Caballo's supinely sprawled body. With a sudden grin on his scarred face, Gaston grabbed a couple of pillows and tucked them in against each of her hips, over Caballo's big hairy thighs. Then he snatched up his whip. He raised it, swung it.
A terrifying jolt of pain ripped through her sexually squirming ass. It seemed to drive her down onto the cock that already probed her so deeply. Her body convulsed spasmodically and her blue eyes tried to pop from their sockets as the searing thong slithered from her.
Tightening his arms across her back, pinning her own arms to her sides, Caballo held her down on him. With short, sharp little twitches of his hips he jiggled his big prick in her.
The swollen, silky flesh of his powerful cock's swollen crown cruised maddeningly over her cervix. It nudged her with spine-tingling threats to invade her very womb. Cock was a smarting, pressurized pain deep inside her, bringing forth groans and tender sighs from her parted lips. Her cunt drooled around his prick and constant surges of pleasure made her move involuntarily on him with convulsive twitches. At the same time, the thick hairy root of his cock ground into the gristly nubbin of her clitoris.
He was up in her, balls deep, with a cock that felt like a ship's mast.
Gaston struck again. The slim black whip snaked out like thunder and lightning, crashing across her dimpled back just above the strong swell of her buttocks. "Arrrr-aghhhhh!"
Hot pain swept like a forest fire through her buttocks and pelvis. Her bottom jumped and tightened. Her cunt rammed down onto Caballo's cock so hard that new pain jarred through her; in her pelvic bone, this time, from the hardness of his.
Panting, groaning in pain and pleasure, she was so excited she thought her entire system must overload like a lightning-fed power line. Something was happening inside her. Something was happening in her belly and in the depths of her febrile, drenched and flaming cunt. Her clitoris felt big as her thumb.
This time Gaston's whip gave her its biting caress between the trembling cheeks of her ass, snapping sharply into the shiny crease.
"YAAAAAAGHHHHHH!" Her cry was hideous and her entire body convulsed. Her crotch rammed violently down onto Caballo's. New pain, like liquid heat, exploded in her crushed clitoris.
Then she screamed again. And again. Her cunt began contracting, rhythmically and repeatedly, milking at Caballo's engulfed cock.
A wave of pure ecstasy swept through her, ignited by the intensifying spasms of her erupting body.
For the first time in her life, she came.
She went rushing high on the very crest of that pounding tidal wave of unknown joy. Her muscles twitched uncontrollably. Every inch of her superb flesh twitched and jerked.
She came and came, twitching, sighing, her fingers clenching, her toes curling, her legs jerking as if she'd been stabbed. She shuddered, she moaned, she cried out, and her body tried to convulse.
It was too intense, her first orgasm, and when Caballo's big prod started pumping its hot load up into her contracting pussy she didn't even know it. She had withstood the horror of kidnap, the anguish of humiliation, the pain of whip and clawing hands, the physical and mental torment of rape in every channel of her body.
But she could not maintain consciousness in the berserk throes of her first orgasm. She fainted.
His balls gloriously emptied for the second time into this superbly curved pink and white body, Caballo lay there gasping. Then he realized his so-willing partner was much heavier, a completely inert weight on him. He shoved one hand into her hair and lifted her head. Her mouth hung open. Her face was covered with sweat and tears and the strands of wet blond hair plastered to it with sweat. Her eyes were closed.
"Christ," he muttered. "She's unconscious!"
And he rolled her unceremoniously off his sweaty body-most of the sweat having flowed down onto him from her. Then he rose from the bed.
The three men stood there and stared down at their captive. She lay on her back where Caballo had rolled her. Her legs were far apart, the wispily furred bulge of her cunt lewdly displayed. The puckered fullness of its ripely swollen lips lay well apart, obscenely displaying her sperm-inundated gash. The lips were fiercely red from their constant distention and grinding on Caballo's huge dork and his wiry black pubic hair. Out of that open-yawning mouth of her crotch came Caballo's yellow-white semen, in a steady trickle onto the old sheet.
"She came," Caballo said, with masterly understatement.
"That," Edmunto said, "is a hot woman."
"She liked me hurting her teats," Caballo nodded.
"She likes being whipped!" That from fiery-eyed Gaston.
"She likes it all," Edmunto said thoughtfully. "All of it. Taking it in her mouth excited her. Yes, Caballo, the rough attentions to her milk jugs excited and pleased her. She loved my cock up her hot little asshole." He shook his head. "She climbed on you, Caballo, to fuck herself more than willingly! That was her choice, completely her choice. And yes, the whipping you gave her pretty ass, Gaston, added to her sexual pleasure."
"I could love a woman who loved the whip," Gaston said quietly.
"Si . . . that woman, amigos, loves sex and a male who is mucho macho . . . much man! For sex, she would do anything."
Caballo was shaking his head, looking at the peacefully unconscious woman and the red marks of his fingers on her pretty titties. "Why would Brooks have a mistress, with this waiting at home?"
Edmunto sighed. "Who knows about americanos? Come-let's have a bit of wine and meat and see what's on the radio."
"What about her?" Gaston asked.
Edmunto waved a hand. "Leave her. She has been hard used. Let her rest. I am willing to grant rest to such a sexy woman while I fill my belly with red wine and red meat-food for the balls!"
The wine was good. The peppered beef was good. The radio was bad.
The news told them Senor Yuri Babaikov, the consul from the Soviet Union, wished to make it perfectly clear that he had no ties whatever with Raul Herrera, head of the Espanian Communist party. The three men stared at each other, paying no attention as the newscaster went on to say that there had been no word from the kidnapers of Senora Claudine Brooks.
Edmunto snatched up the telephone, called Herrera. The phone rang and rang. Caballo and Gaston waited, leaning anxiously forward, staring at their leader, who was calling his leader. Suddenly his eyebrows shot up and his jaw clenched. He put the phone down hurriedly and returned their stares.
"Someone answered. It was not Herrera. It was a Yanqui."
"A Yan-Brooks?"
"I don't know. The phone rang many times. Then-the voice. A norteamerica"
"Brooks," Gaston said fearfully. "Police . . .
Brooks . . . the Russian threw Herrera to the wolves . . . Herrera was not there
"
"He may be on his way here," Caballo suggested.
Gaston pounced to his feet. "I do not think so! I am not waiting! We must get out of here! Suppose-suppose Herrera makes a deal-himself ... for us?"
"What about her?" Caballo said, nodding at the doorway into the room where Claudine still lay in fucked-out satiation.
Gaston shrugged. "Kill her, of course."
"You idiot," Edmunto raged, "if we are in trouble, she is our ticket out of here, to a plane. . . ."
Gaston shook his head. All of them had put on their clothing; now he buttoned his shirt. "I do not care about that. Edmunto ... I am leaving. Come."
"You are not in charge," Edmunto told him, "and I say we stay."
Gaston picked up his whip. "I am leaving, Edmunto!"
Caballo stood and placed a huge hand on a shoulder of each of the others. Gaston looked apprehensive, his knuckles white around the grip of his whip.
"It is a bad time," the huge man said. "If we must part . . . then we must part. Let him go, Edmunto. A man must do what he thinks best."
Gaston and Edmunto stared at each other. Then Edmunto glanced up at Caballo, back at Gaston.
"Adios, mio amigo," Edmunto said.
Steering Gaston with his left hand on the man's shoulder, Caballo seemed to act as escort. He walked Gaston to the door. Just outside the cabin door, Gaston turned back.
"Edmunto ... I am sorry ... go with God, Edmunto."
"Si. Vaya con Dios, Gaston," Edmunto sighed.
Frowning slightly, looking guilty, Gaston at last turned and started on. Caballo's left hand slid from his shoulder. Caballo's right hand moved swiftly up.
Caballo's knife drove into Gaston's back just above the buttocks, all the way in, to the hilt. With an unbelievably strong hand, the big man ground the knife up, gave it a swift little twist, and jerked it out.
Without a sound beyond his initial grunt as the knife severed his backbone, Gaston stood there a moment, shuddering. Then he dropped to his knees. Then he fell full length, face forward.
He heard Caballo turn and re-enter the cabin. He lay there, unable to move. He wondered what it was going to be like, the rest of his life like this, a helpless paralytic with severed nerves in his backbone.
He lay there thinking about that while he bled to death. It took perhaps twenty minutes.
CHAPTER TEN
When Caballo stepped into the bedroom, their captive was awake. Still totally naked, even to her feet, she was on her way out the back window. One bent leg was on the sill; the other was stretched stiffly beneath, pushing at the floor with an effort that beautifully bulged the calf and tightened her fine ass cheeks into two hard-looking ovals.
Caballo strode across the room, grabbed her by the waist and hair, and jerked her back into the room. She emitted a despairing moan and jerked, kicking with both feet. Backing up a couple of steps, Caballo plumped his big buttocks down onto the rumpled, semen-stained bed-with the naked writhing woman across his knees.
"Bad girl," he said, and proceeded to treat her like one.
Holding her face down across his knees with one hand pressing into the silken skin at the small of her back, he swung his other hand up and brought it forward and down onto her left buttock with a SMACK!
Caballo was big, his arm strong, his blow hard swung, and his hand huge. It completely covered the dimpled hemisphere it slapped. His fingers extended nearly to her hip, while his thumb actually snapped down into the crack dividing the creamy halves of her full butt.
The struck cheek trembled in his grip and she cried out, as much in outrage as in pain.
Staring down at the perfection of those resilient demiglobes of female ass, watching how her naked rump tightened fearfully, he swung another splatting spank-onto the same cheek. Again his strong, capable hand flashed pain down into her left buttock. This time her cry was a moan, barely audible, confined to her throat as she bit down hard on her lip.
But she could not stem the thrashing and squirming of the silken length of her naked body. He felt the softness of her tit when it smacked his calf, the soft dainty hair of her cunt rubbing his thigh. He watched the way her buttocks danced in protest at his ignominious treatment of their soft curves, then tightened up so as to close completely the narrow valley between the hills of white flesh.
He slapped again. And again. He spanked her bouncy bottom fervently, until it tingled throughout the fleshy, provocative curves. But every time he smacked the same tensed, reddening cheek, totally ignoring the snowy right buttock.
He enjoyed it. He enjoyed watching her tighten her sexy ass in anticipation of each new smack, then relax slowly, reluctantly, when it did not come-and then he would strike again.
Tremors of pain shot through her sensational seat. She moaned at his touch and grunted at each hard-swung slap.
Tremors lurched through the liquifying depths of her vagina, too. She was panting, wiggling and wriggling her rounded plump butt around on his lap, scrubbing her bulging mount of Venus against his hairy thighs. Whimpering, sobbing softly, she wondered why he was concentrating all his attention on her left buttock. It was so hot-and its twin was so cool.
But her untouched right cheek was not the twin of the left, now. The burning that pervaded her tormented ass was reflected visibly in the form of livid fingerprints. They seemed almost to glow, spreading and becoming one great red splotch that completely covered the cringing skin of the gentle hillock.
Pain coursed through her in waves of . . . rapture!
She squirmed and her moans and cries became whimpering sighs as she wiggled harder and harder, with a new purposefulness.
Abruptly he left off spanking her. She lay across his legs, still squirming, still rubbing her mounded, sparsely furred pussy against his hairy leg. Tremors rushed up and down her back. She sighed and sobbed and whimpered.
Then he slid his hand down her silky back. Slipping his fingers into her tendrils of blond hair, he tugged. With a gasping moan, she slid backward along his legs until her breasts caught painfully at one thigh. It strained, stretched, popped free, swung down, slapped into his other thigh. Then her knees thumped to the floor. She knelt to his right, facing his right thigh with her soft white tits draped over it.
Her eyes rolled to him.
"Tsk, tsk, little pussy cat," he said, shaking his head. "Why would you want to leave us?"
"Please . . . you've hurt me, shamed me so- you know . . .you know something about me that n-nobody knows . . . please . . . please let me go now. You know I'll never tell who you are, where you are-I couldn't! I couldn't bear to have you tell-about me."
He shrugged. "That you like being treated rough? That you like eating cock and getting it up the ass and riding it like a vaquera?" He smiled. "Nothing there to be ashamed of, Princess! You are a supersexy woman, that's all! Oh-and when you come ... do you ever come!"
She dropped her head. Tears rolled softly down her cheek. Her shoulders slumped.
"Stand up," Caballo ordered. His voice was quiet, but firm and implacable. She dared not disobey or even plead with him. Using his thigh for leverage, she pushed herself to her feet. Her tits jumped and bounced. Her well-spanked left ass cheek smarted fiercely.
He made her stand directly before him, facing him, and told her to put her hands behind her.
"Keep them there," he warned. "Best to grasp your own wrists."
"Wh-what are you going to-oh, no, not my breasts again!"
He smiled, gazing up at her-a very short distance, even with him sitting while she stood. Then he shoved his thumb up her cunt.
"Uh!" she grunted, and her hands leaped around her body toward him. They stopped in midrush. The look in his eyes warned her silently. Biting her lip, leaking glistening tears, breathing hard through her nose so that her nostrils flared, she slipped her hands again behind her back.
His thumb slid out of the deep crack between her soft and resilient vulval folds. "Ah," she gasped, then was forced to gaze at his thumb as he held it up before her face.
It glistened. It was wet. Her teeth sank harder into her lip.
"You see, supersexy little pussy cat?" he said. "Your pussy wells up like a crying eye- but not in sadness! No, a pussy leaks this way in joy, in happiness and eagerness for fucking!" He shook his head. "Oh, how you have fooled and misled the people of Espania, Princess!"
Including my husband, she thought dismally. But that was not the half of it: Oh, how I have fooled MYSELF!
"Keep your hands well behind your back. Open your legs."
She wiggled her feet a little farther apart.
His hand suddenly clutched her plump, springy mount. "Farther! I said open your legs, not wiggle your feet!"
With a sobbing little sigh she parted her thighs for him, giving him a far more intoxicating view of her bulging, swollen-looking vulva. It was bisected by a tight red slit that was beautifully fitted and framed with the dainty pink fullness of her dewy love lips.
Bending forward interestedly, entranced by her pretty cunt, he peeled back the close-seamed labia and smiled at the appearance of the fluted inner folds. They were almost scarlet in the deepness of their blood-engorged excitement.
His thumb was gentle as it wriggled inside her again, while he listened to her sighs and little moans. The well-toned muscles in her thighs tightened and stood out boldly. Her legs quivered and her belly rippled. Her arms quivered, too, with the strain she exerted, clutching her wrists with each hand to keep them behind her.
Then he ground his thumb in, driving it up into her pussy with a squirming and crushing of his palm against the pink-lipped crack.
She whimpered ... and a movement attracted her gaze to the doorway. Edmunto stood there, watching. She averted her eyes quickly.
"Move," Caballo bade her. "Move your hips and your shoulders and bend your knees. Move -ride my thumb! Fuck yourself on my hand, 0 Princess."
With a little moan of humiliation and shame, she began to obey.
The movements of her squirming body fucked her on his thumb as if it were a cock- and indeed it was nearly as big as a normal penis, at that. She closed her eyes. Now she could imagine that it was a cock. She was riding it as she had ridden his, earlier. Riding, riding, fucking, fucking herself, fucking her cunt, fucking her slimy pussy. . . .
She could feel it, deep inside her vaginal well where he worked it in and out of tight liquid hotness. She gasped and panted, pounding and grinding herself onto his thumb cock, fucking her own silk-lined sex hole with swinging gyrations of her hips and up-and-down movements of her jacking knees. Her own movements and the thickness of his thumb up her hungry snatch sent a blaze of fierce hunger through her.
On the ends of her jiggling, jouncing, shimmying breasts, her pink nipples budded, then blossomed into darker-hued flowers. They danced in the air before her.
She groaned loudly when his big thumb popped squishily out of her churning cunt. But then his hands were sliding around her hips, jerking her closer. His fingers slipped back to dimple her buttocks and hold her pussy close to -his face!
Her eyes snapped open and she stared down at the top of his huge head. She could not see his face. It was pressed firmly into the intersection of her thighs, and his forehead was a hard pressure against her belly.
"Ah! Oh-uh! unnnnh-ah, oh, oh, o-o-ohh . . ."
She had never felt anything like it. He was slicking his tongue over the hardened sliver of flesh that peeked coyly out between the tops of her cunt lips. She sighed ecstatically. She moaned and jerked in irresistible lust and response to his marvelous loving mouth. Every supple, sinuous inch of her spectacular body responded to his kissing lips and slickering tongue. Her body jerked and trembled. Her clit swelled up and twitched. Her buttocks flexed against the fingers that dug into them, holding her pressed so firmly against his face. She could actually hear him lapping up the oily cuntal secretions that oozed out to mingle with his saliva. He lapped up every droplet, coasting his tongue over and over her pubic hair and the soft wet lips of her gaping pussy. He slid his tongue down to the very bottom of that fleshy, fat-lipped crack, then licked back up its ever-widening, ever wetter aperture.
She screamed aloud. Her hands rushed out from behind her and ran urgently over her own tits, trying to crush their rubbery flesh as he had. Her tremorous body jerked wildly as he thrust his tongue into the hot red hole, framed by the white, sweating columns of her thighs. Her hands plucked and writhed and squeezed as she played mindlessly with her own breasts and the firm pink mushrooms that tipped the lush masses of white flesh. She grunted and writhed, hunching her flowing cunt into his face.
Beneath his tongue, the pulsing little hard-on of her swollen pink love button throbbed in ardent response to the lust that permeated her body like fire.
"Uh!" she grunted, hunching harder against his face when he let one finger slide down the sweaty crack of her ass and enter her snug little anal mouth.
Continuing to lick and suck her cunt, he pressed his finger farther and farther up her ass. She groaned and shuddered, feeling it slither up her rectum, inch by inch.
Her gaping mouth poured out gasping, tremulous, high-voiced cries. Sweat poured off her. Her fingers sank harshly and deeply into the soft silken flesh of her tits, mauling them now rather than fondling and stroking herself.
He deserted her clit long enough to let his tongue ram into her anxious gap and swing around and around. His finger up her asshole moved about in a similar movement.
Her thirsty cunt seemed afire. She jerked forward, trying to impale it to its liquid deeps on his tongue. It was woefully small. She whimpered, grinding her hips against his head and wishing his tongue were a cock. With her eyes closed and her head back, her hands urgently squeezing her nipples, she did not see Edmunto enter the room, did not see the enormous hard-on that bounced before him. She did not even hear him when he stepped up behind her.
Now Caballo chewed softly on the pulsing lips of her pussy, making her gasp as every muscle twitched and contracted.
"Uh!" She grunted aloud when his finger popped out of the ring of her ass.
"Uh!" She grunted aloud again, as it came back, seeming bigger, now, and making her suppose that he now had his thumb planted up inside her anal hollow.
Except that it kept coming. And kept com- ing, sliding and making her asshole flower and dilate as it came and came up into her, making her whine like an anxious bitch in heat, Cabal- lo's mouth sucking the hot sticky juices out of the slippery cleft of her loins and his thumb pressing farther and farther up her squirming, smarting asshole and her clitoris pulsing, pulsing at the very top of her open cunt And then Edmunto slipped his hands onto her hips from behind, and Caballo let his own hands slide around her, and her pelvis was ground harshly against Caballo's face as Edmunto sank the last inch of his cock up her welcoming asshole.
She knew, then, and she sobbed aloud-but her hands only tightened on her tits. She continued squirming and sighing. It was all far, far too good to run the risk of losing it by crying out or trying to get off the big throbbing chunk of swollen flesh that was now rammed so far up her rectum-a long-sheltered rectum that had been quite virginal only yesterday.
Her nerves seemed afire as Caballo began licking and sucking her nubbly love button again. Her blond-pelted loins moved up and down against his face, squirming.
Behind her, the other man's hunching and plumbing of her anal depths made her quiver and jerk in little spasms. His big livid tool utterly filled the soft, warm sheath of her ass. She moaned with the stinging pain and the glowing pleasure of it.
His pelvis impacted her firm-fleshed buttocks with a loud slap, but his clutching hands kept her from being pounded forward into Caballo, who still sucked away at her throbbing little cock imitator.
Her hands pushed and thrust and pulled and squeezed the sexily soft, plastic pads of her breasts, gripping their hard nipples and seemingly trying to wring them off. Her hips undulated, swung back and forth. As she swung her pelvis forward her clitoris was rammed hard against Caballo's tongue; as she mindlessly jerked it back again, Edmunto's inflamed root snaked into her, probing deep up her ass, and she grunted and jerked forward again.
Her soft body trembled and her mouth oozed little moans. She had never known such glory. She had an asshole full of cock, fucking it like a tight round cunt, and a cunt full of tongue, kissing and tonguing it like a pretty pink mouth, and she felt not like a princess, but like an absolute queen, a magnificently enthroned creature who was the subject of the beautifully ardent attentions of two men!
With that thought, her entire life fell apart around her, shattering like a glass palace that had so long sheltered her as if it were a real one. She began at once to put the pieces together again, but in a different shape. She knew what she was all about. She knew what sex was all about. She knew what being a woman and needing men and being needed by men was all about.
Smiling up at the ceiling, her hair caressing Edmunto's naked chest, she began ramming her body forcefully back and forth. That final flurry of furious pounding of her pelvis against Caballo's face did it.
Once again she came. Groaning and jerking as she reached the pinnacle of ecstasy, she spent her lusts to the full. It shook her, drained her, left her numb and exhausted. Her knees buckled-and all of a sudden only the big probing bar of Edmunto's cock up her ass kept her on her feet!
Pushing her back a little, forcing Edmunto to take one backward step with her, Caballo rose. He was far too tall and she far too short, even this willowy woman, for him to enter her this way, with both of them standing.
So he bent his knees and guided his hugely swollen cock with one hand while he tweaked open her flowing pussy lips with the other. He peeled one soft labe back and held it there, dark and glistening with the juices of her lust and her satiation, and he straightened his legs.
The long thick ram of his bulgy shaft of cock slid straight up into her orgasm-contracting cunt.
She groaned and her eyes bulged. His outsize organ felt even bigger in her than before, now, with her vaginal passage pressed tight by the presence of the cock in the adjacent channel of her ass.
She stood there weakly, her mouth open and her arms dangling at her sides, held up on her feet only by the tensile strength of two male shafts filling her body's contiguous holes.
Caballo wrapped his arms around her. All the way around her, so that his big hands slid over the narrow hips of the man behind her. Edmunto gasped in surprise and glanced down, suddenly still with his straining prick anchored up her asshole and subjected to even more pressuring friction now, by the other man's cock in her cunt.
Then Caballo straightened his legs. At the same time he allowed himself to fall backward onto the bed. It creaked and groaned as all three bodies toppled onto it.
Claudine's mouth gaped wide, but she could not cry out. She was crushed between them, lying atop Caballo with his huge stem thrust all the way up her vagina, and mashed down onto him by the weight of Edmunto, lying on her back with his stiff penile staff sunk all the way into her asshole.
Caballo could not move to fuck her, nor could she move atop his body. For the time the three of them lay there in that strange pile of flesh, two dark-fleshed men making a sandwich of the lusty white meat of their blond captive. Then Caballo pushed at Edmunto's right hip, at the same time twisting his own body that way.
Hanging onto Claudine, Edmunto slid onto his side. She went with him, gasping, utterly full and stuffed and dilated with cock, both of them in her so far from two different directions that she felt as if it were one huge shaft of red-hot maleness, completely transpiercing her quaking body.
Now she lay between them, and she could breath again. For a time there was a hurtful, exasperating flurry of activity. Then Edmunto was still.
"Caballo-pull out," he said.
"I will not!"
"No, no, my friend-pull out partially. We must slide our cocks in and out of her one at a time, not both together. Pull out to the head of your cock."
"Uhhhhh-nnnngh!" the meat of their sandwich groaned, as Caballo moved his butt forward, pulling six or seven inches of his oversize tool out of her distended pussy. Then she sighed, feeling a considerable relaxation of the terrible pressure. She was still very much- and very pleasantly-aware of the pressure of Caballo's swollen glans between her cloven cunt lips, but now the far deeper presence of the other man's tool in the depths of her rectum was much more welcome.
Edmunto slid his hands up over her tits, making them flop around and rub the other man's chest with their fat tips.
"Now," he said, "push in, while I pull!"
"Ohhh-" she said, on a rising note, fearful .. .
But it was beautiful, and she lay there and grooved on it, the slow slithering slide of Edmunto's bone out of her body's rearward channel, matched in reverse by the pushing back up her marshy cunt of Caballo's big horn. Her "Ohhh" gave way to a pleased "Ahhh."
The two men began fucking her that way, in unison. Edmunto pushed while Caballo pulled and Caballo returning his dork to the febrile embrace of her smoldering pussy while Edmunto eased back along the long hot channel of her ass.
I'll never feel this again, she thought, squirming a little to rub her breasts against the huge man facing her, fucking her cunt. Never -I can just see myself suggesting to David that he bring another man home so I can get it in both directions at once! Lord, we've never -we've never even . . .
Her eyes brimmed with tears.
We've never done anything, she realized in desperation and deep sorrow. He has no idea! Oh, how I want to suck on his dear cock, how I want to feel his darling sweet hands bring heat to my tits! How I want to say things to him . . . talk dirty to him-fuck my cunt, stick your cock up my box, tickle my tonsils with your peter. Let me eat you, fuck my . . . fuck my . . . fuck my asshole!
Edmunto did. He screwed furiously up her ass. His balls banged against the lower curves of the sweet, cringing, squirming cheeks. Then, after grinding his hips against her a moment to probe her intestines with his prick head, he began the long slow withdrawal, while Caballo's enormous tool slid back into the wet, clinging enslavement of her cunt.
Oh, David, she thought, David-where are you? What are you doing? Will I ever see you again?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Buchanan had been forced to walk back to Herrera's car and, trying to ignore the bloody, lifeless body, take out the stuffed briefcase. It took him a long while, but he found it. There were three men named Edmunto, Gaston, and Caballo. And there was a cabin up in the hills, at the old mine where several of Buchanan's employees had once worked.
Rifle in one hand and evidence in the other, he hurried back to the dead man's house and telephoned David Brooks.
Brooks answered excitedly, hoping that this was the long-awaited call from the kidnapers.
"Brooks? This is George Buchanan. Herrera's dead. The-what? Never mind. Just take my word for it, he's dead. He's been paying three jokers named, ahh . . . Edmunto, Gaston, and Caballo to do his dirty work. A bit of killing, a bit of rape-and they've used the cabin of the old Anaconda mine, up in the San Juanito hills, know where that is? Um-now my bet is that there's where those three are right now- and I'd bet money they've got your wife there.
Brooks! Yeah, well-oh, shut up and listen a minute, Christ, it isn't as if the Princess were a virgin, like my Amy! Listen, Mister Ambassador, sir, I'm gonna go up there, and I mean right now, with a rifle, and you're invited. Now. Either that, or . . . forget it. I'll take care of those three!"
Buchanan jammed down the phone, stuck the papers in his pocket, gripped his rifle tightly, and set out for the abandoned mine. He didn't give a damn if David Brooks came along or not. Son of a bitch was probably waiting for the fucking State Department to tell him what to do!
It had all been so incredibly lovely, both of them fucking her and then feeling both of them jerk, hearing them groan in pure pleasure, and feeling their cocks jerk inside her body as they pumped their semen into her willing holes!
Now, what she overheard made her knees go weak and was like the slamming of a fist into the pit of her stomach.
The two men were in the other room, drinking wine or something. They thought she was asleep on the semen- and sweat-smelling bed. Caballo had nailed a single wide plank across the window. But she was not asleep, and she was even more shocked by Caballo's words when she remembered the sweetness with which he had sucked and tongued her slit.
"-but now I think poor Gaston was right! They may have Herrera. He may well make a bargain with them, they'll go light on him if he turns us in!" the big man was saying. "No, no, Edmunto, I say we cut off Claudine's tits like we did Morgana's and get out of here- muy pronto!"
She heard the sound of a hand slapping the table, in exasperation.
"No, idiot!" Edmunto countered angrily. "She is our safety! She is the Princess-the wife of the American ambassador, not just a peasant whore we can use and destroy, or that the police would ignore if they really wanted us! Think. Caballo! Claudine is our safety! We will escape, we will leave the country-and we will use her as a shield and a hostage!"
"She will merely slow us down," Caballo said, disgruntled.
"Have some more wine, amigo, and think about it," Edmunto urged. "For heaven's sake -think!"
In the other room, the shivering captive took his advice. She thought, working her mind furiously.
She had to mollify Caballo. She had to get killing her out of his mind. She had to
She sighed, tightening her lips. Yes. She knew how to do it, too. Just yesterday she wouldn't have been able to do it. But now, now she knew how, and she also knew that she could!
It was he who came in to gaze at her, hungrily, and she had arranged herself so that the soles of her feet pointed at the door. Gazing at him along the length of her naked body, smiling, she moved her legs well apart. She held out her arms.
"My big macho lover! Come and fuck me again!"
"A man cannot fuck all day! A man can do only so much with his tool, bitch!"
She wiggled, then slid her hands over her breasts, making them wiggle enticingly, tugging upward at the nipples to let him see the sexy stretching of the pink buds.
"Then come here," she said, "and let me ride you as I did last night! That way you need only rest, my superman!"
He glanced down at the front of his trousers. "That is of no use," he told her, glancing rather slyly back into the other room, "when the tool is not high like a bar of iron."
She sat up, bent her knees to flash him an even better look at her naked, open pussy, and then swung her legs over to the floor. Sitting there on the edge of the bed, she extended a hand in his direction while she smiled at him. Her voice was very soft.
"Then come here, great cocksman, and let me see if my mouth and tongue can't make a bar of iron of your darling cock, so that you can stick me with it!"
Again he glanced into the other room. Then he returned his gaze to her-and she pursed her lips in a kiss, gazing at his fly, and showed him the wiggly tip of her tongue.
No man could have resisted that invitation.
Caballo moved swiftly to the bed, opening his pants as he walked-quietly, she noticed. Was Edmunto drowsing? Coming up to stand before her, Caballo dropped his pants and stepped out of them. His flaccid tool dangled there before her eyes. It looked gentle this way, and vulnerable.
He wants to cut off my breasts, she thought. I'd like to bite off that damned horse cock of his!
But she didn't. She reached out to cup his balls, raising them and the long thick stem, and she bent her head to lick it. It twitched and she heard his little gasp. She smiled, secretly, with her blond head bent over his crotch.
Then she bent her head still more to fill her mouth with his flaccid flesh.
Her hands remained busy, manipulating his hairy, throbbing scrotal flesh and making the eggs inside roll around while she moved her head slowly back and forth, thumping his belly with her forehead while she used her mouth to draw the slack flesh of his cock backward and forward in the wet hollow of her face.
She sucked. She played with his balls. She licked the crown of his meat, the long flexible shaft, the little wrinkles behind the helmet. She worked hard to get him up, without appearing to. Her heart pounded.
I'll give him good reason to keep me alive, she thought, and she reminded herself that this unpleasant experience would serve her and David well: she was practicing, for him!
Besides ... it wasn't all that unpleasant, not at all, if she hadn't overheard what the owner of this thickening weapon of flesh had said about her!
She did it well, and Caballo was a lusty man who was far from immune to the beautiful blond head bent over his groin while that sweet mouth and tongue worked over his relaxed tool.
The tantalizing fervor of her mouth soon brought his cock springing up into quivering life.
It started coming out of her mouth, pushing her back as it grew inside her head. More and more of its spittle-shiny length appeared before her widely rounded lips-and then he grinned and reached down and grabbed her head.
"Uglkkk!"
He gagged her, ramming his big new erection into her face, bouncing the fat plumlike head off the back of her throat and making it convulse in retching spasms.
It wasn't just the length of his cock, the hugely rounded head trying to force itself down her throat. There was more: the girth of his mighty organ. Her mouth was terribly strained. Her lips were forced wider than they'd ever been. She felt the painful strain in her jaws. She felt the pressure of her lachrymal glands and knew she was leaking slow tears, just from that pressure. She was sure he felt her teeth, and that frightened her. But-what could she do? She was afraid to thrust him back, at the same time withdrawing her head. She had set out to win him. He wanted to kill her. He wanted to-to cut off her tits. Just the thought of that filled her with horror and made her shiver.
She had to take this vicious, obscene probing. She could not afford to anger him, or even come close.
She wished she could talk. She wanted to remind him that she couldn't suck with her mouth forced open this way. She felt like a crocodile in a Tarzan movie.
The big bastard smiled down at her, clutching her face and driving into its painfully straining wetness and warmness as if it were a particularly tight cunt he was skewering. Even so, with his cock's crown probing her throat and making her lurch and fight desperately to keep from vomiting, his balls were inches away from her chin.
He had a lot more cock.
If he shoves the rest of it in, she thought, it will go down my throat and I will die. Oh, my God-maybe this is the way he's chosen to kill me.
"You see," he said suddenly, "there is a disadvantage to having a cock like this. It's a damned horse cock. That's why they call me Caballo. No woman can suck me properly." His massive chest heaved in a sigh. "Well, hold your mouth as wide as you can while I pull it out. Otherwise it'll scrape on your teeth."
She held her mouth as wide as she could while he pulled it out. The knob caught at her teeth just the same, and she saw him wince as she did; she was cracking her jaws to open even wider. Tears streamed.
Then his huge plug popped free and she was gasping and swallowing and sniffing, panting for breath. She got over it as fast as she could, then slipped her hands up under his balls and looked with sweet submission up into his face.
"I'd rather have this big thing in my body," she said, "but I could suck on the tip and slide my hand up and down it if you want-like this."
She lodged half the huge glans in her mouth, sealed her lips around it, and sucked it with all her might. At the same time she fondled his nuts with her left hand and slid her right up and down, up and down the long thick shaft.
"No," he said, and pulled his cock free. Then he reached down, slid his fingers into her armpits with this thumbs gouging her tits, and lifted her to her feet. She thought he meant to kiss her. He didn't. His hands moved quickly down her sides and around, roaming her brash-ly jutting buttocks. Then he clutched the very tops of her thighs, just at the bases of the satiny cheeks of her arched ass.
He lifted her. His fingers dug in and she grunted. Her body slithered up his, her breasts catching on his chest, being pulled downward and forced to slide upward through the mat of hair. One side at a time, he flipped his hands forward along her thighs until she was seated in the air with her thighs cradled in his hands.
Instinctively, she gripped his big barrel of a body with her legs.
He smiled. "That's good," he said. "That's the way. Now in it goes-I'm going in you so deep this time your snatch'll rip!"
He raised her more, then lowered her a bit. She felt the heavy, broad helmet like head of his ponderous prick nudging her outer cuntal lips. They parted, slightly.
"Reach down and guide it in," Caballo told her.
"It-it's in," she said tremorously. He grinned, nodded, and let her drop, several inches.
"Uh," she gasped, then, "Ump!"
Her cunt ran straight down his cock. The inflexible ramming horn filled her up, stretched out her hair-rimmed slit and the inner furrow of her hot belly until she was spread all around it and felt strained with cock.
"Ha-have I ... got it all?"
He smiled-and shook his head. He lowered her another inch. The weight of her body forced another inch of thick dick up her vagina. She groaned and clutched him with tensing calves and gripping fingers, locked behind his big bull neck.
Then he fell forward onto the bed with her and she screamed.
The slick head of his unyielding bone imbedded itself deeper into her with a ramming lunge, snuggled itself against the spongy neck of her uterus as he strained to push ever deeper into the liquid satin of her pussy and his great, heavy body squashed her into the bed.
She felt the tremendous pressure deep inside her; a firm, fat cock head trying to force itself up her uterine tunnel!
It was impossible. It hurt. She had too much cock in her.
Pain welled-and with it the rising sensation of excitement, exhilaration.
It was pain, and she both needed it and loved it.
He slid it halfway out, rammed it back, then again, and again. Her cunt flared into an inferno of pain and rapture. She groaned and squirmed beneath him. She moaned under him, thrashing her body sinuously beneath his, pushing strongly up at him while whipping herself from side to side. He gave her more freedom of motion by propping himself on his elbows. His toes pushed against the floor.
Her naked ass hissed over the sheet it rumpled. The raw, smooth flesh of her cunt clasped and pulled like a heartbeat around his thick, hot meat.
Then he robbed her of movement again, bracketing her tightly with his big arms as he reached beneath her to grasp her buttocks. He pulled her up, and again his glans banged into her cervix. She grunted and flailed her head on the bed.
Her eyes bulged and she gasped loudly when he forced a finger up her asshole without any sort of preamble. Again, it hurt. Desperately her long tight anal channel flowered around the intruder to accept it without pain. She succeeded. Her ass took his thick finger just as her cunt accepted his thick cock, willingly, lovingly.
She accepted the dual probing with squeals and sighs of joy and pure ecstasy.
She felt herself rushing up toward the soaring heights of rapture and knew she was being aided by his roughness with her, the sensation of rape in the way he had entered her, both fore and aft. She hunched, deeply fucking herself and loving every moment of it.
His cock poled in and out of her cunt.
His finger slithered in and out of her asshole and rubbed its walls against his plunging prick.
He thrust into both receptive channels as deeply as he could, his body smacking hers. Their stomachs slapped and ground together, sliding slickly in their own sweat. He ground his chest down into the twin balls of hers, crushing the perky nipples that poked fiercely up into him.
She was almost there, almost making it, when he came, and what seemed to be gallons of hot juices flowed into her in jerking, spurting ejaculations of his liquid seed.
She flopped loosely beneath him, sobbing. She hadn't come. She wanted to, so badly. And she had been so close. It was just-it was just that he had thought only of himself, he had worked too hard and come too fast. And . . . and perhaps . . . perhaps he hadn't demeaned her quite enough, given her quite enough of the illusion of forcible rape, hadn't give her quite enough . . . pain.
He propped himself above her and grinned, then made her jerk and gasp when he grabbed a softly bulging tit in each big strong hand.
"I didn't hurt you enough, did I?" he asked, and she nearly sobbed aloud, realizing that this man who had kidnaped and mistreated and raped her knew more about her than her own husband! All these years of marriage, these years of . . . waste!
"N . . . no," she moaned, averting her head.
He squeezed. "Tell me to, then."
She couldn't get the words out. She swallowed with a gulp and felt tears at the corners of her eyes, stinging. She tried again. "H-hur . . . hurt me."
He fingered and pawed and squeezed her nipples until they were enormous red extensions, puffy and fat and flushed with engorging blood. Then she lay there in fear and fascination and growing pain, while he wound a piece of thread around the very base of each nipple-and knotted it there, pulling and pulling.
"Ah-oh, oh-annnnnnggghhhhh-ah, ah- HURTS!"
"Yes," he said, "that's what you asked for!" Then he produced the rope with which they had tied her earlier, and he rolled her over. Her pursed, violently swollen and forcibly fattened nipples sent pain surging through her when they came in contact with the sheet. It felt like sandpaper.
He tied her wrists behind her, passing the rope twice around her and making sure it cut into her belly before he knotted it again. It was so tight that it constricted her breathing and was a constant stricture around her small stomach.
Then he rolled her over. She lay there, helplessly bound and with her thread-bound nipples lumping up redly, obscenely, while he rose and gazed down at her. She shivered. He went to the door, glanced into the other room, stepped quietly in, and returned. With the whip.
He began whipping her tits.
Pain like heated needles assaulted her and she moaned loudly.
The whip rose and fell, curled and cracked. Her mouth and eyes were wide with shock and terror and pain. Sweat oozed from her skin and trickled from her armpits and whiplashed breasts, the chill-sweat of horror and fear and pain.
The whip rose and fell. She felt it, fiery hot on her naked, totally defenseless tits. With terrified eyes, her vision dimmed with pain, she watched him draw back the leather strap and snap it forward. Fresh pain sizzled into her. Its length fell across both her breasts; its tip snapped the swelling right hemisphere viciously. She screeched, moaning and writhing.
She saw it now, the glassy look in his eyes.
It was lust, but of a different kind from that which he had slaked in her vaginal deeps. Blood lust. She remembered what she had heard him say to the other man: "I say we cut off Claudine's tits like we did Morgana's. . . ."
That, she realized deep inside a brain staggered and numbed with pain and horror and terrible fear, was what he was going to do.
He was going to keep on whipping her until the rising red welts burst and blood oozed and then flowed in streams and then in rivers and her defenseless tits were red globe shapes of bleeding horror!
She began to scream, shrieking, screeching at the very limit of her lungs. She had one chance. She screeched.
There was another horror involved, too. He struck again, and the whip burned like a laser across her jiggling, red-striped breasts-and her cunt felt like it had been pumped full of boiling water. Her belly knotted up even as she screamed. Her throat spewed out awful shrieks until it ached rawly-and she came.
Her whipped breasts bounced and rippled, her belly quivered. And then the luxuriant liquids of her orgasm came flowing out. The power of her climax hurled her into an orgiastic delirium that made her hunch her body upward to meet the whip's lash in midflight, seeking its harsh leather caress, its welts, the blood she knew would soon come. . . .
There was a roaring wind through her head, up and down the tormented hallways of her brain, and her eyes seemed to see through a red mist. She saw Caballo jerk and look at the door into the other room; heard voices, as if from far, far away, saw Caballo's face and lips twisting as he cursed and railed at the other man, saw him brandish the whip, and squat, and come up with his trousers, heard the faraway voices again, saw him drop his pants and saw that now there was a knife in his hand, saw him start toward the doorway.
She heard a sound like a ruler slapped down hard on a tabletop.
Caballo stopped his forward movement with a jerk. He looked totally surprised; astonished. He started forward again. There were two more of the sharp, slapping-cracking noises.
Caballo lurched, half-turned, and she saw the dark spots, one on his chest and two in his hairy belly. Bullet holes. Then he fell. Knife and whip handle clattered to the floor along with the heavy thump-bumping of his inert body.
Then Edmunto was walking into the room, a pistol in his hand. He stood over Caballo, gazing down at him. He looked at Claudine and she stared back, petrified, unable even to speak. Her whipped breasts felt as if they had been stuffed with tinder and set alight.
Edmunto bent, straightened up with Caballo's knife in hand, set a knee on the bed, and bent over the helplessly bound blond. Speechless with fear, she watched the knife approach her flaming breasts. Then she felt its steel touch. It was cold, icy cold against flesh turned burning hot by a dozen lashes of the leather whip.
Carefully, Edmunto sliced through the thread knotted about her nipples-and slung the knife aside. It clattered to the floor.
She was almost fainting in relief. Only the surging new pain, that of circulation returning into her nipples, kept her conscious.
"The big stupid bastard wanted to kill you, Princess," Edmunto said quietly. "Stupid, stupid." He turned her over. "You're my ticket out of the country! Ah, yes-he tied you well. I think we'll just leave your wrists like that."
He tugged at her, pulled her off the bed and onto her feet. Just the slight drop of her breasts to their normal position when she stood, only a matter of millimeters, was an agony. Her legs failed to do their job. They turned to jelly and she fell heavily, with her bound hands useless to break her fall. She hurt her elbow. Glancing over, she saw that she was about four feet away from Caballo's body.
"Looks like you bastards are doing a nice job of wiping each other out," a voice said, from the doorway.
She and Edmunto jerked their heads door-ward simultaneously, to see George Buchanan standing there with a rifle in his hands. It was pointed at Edmunto, but it appeared to be loosely held.
"I killed Herrera," Buchanan said, with pride. "Then I came after you three rapists.
But there's one dead outside the front door, and there's another-boy." He shook his head.
Edmunto dropped to his knees, as if in supplication-and fired.
Buchanan's rifle roared, then roared again. He was staggering, his face wearing that same idiotically surprised look as Caballo's had.
From his knees, Edmunto squeezed another shot from his wavering pistol. The rifle caranged again. Buchanan banged back against the door jamb. His eyes were staring, unseeingly. He slid down the wall. The rifle clattered loudly on the floor. His buttocks hit the floor and his head tilted loosely forward. He looked as though he were sitting there asleep. "Except that his eyes were open.
Edmunto rolled over on his side, kicked, and was still.
Claudine Brooks lay there shivering and trying to remain conscious. Many minutes passed. Then she tried to move. It hurt. Her wrists were very tightly bound, and the rope ran twice around her middle, and that hurt even more. She moaned. Her leg hurt, too, and she discovered that Edmunto's left leg lay across it. It was a dead weight.
"Help," she said, in a voice so weak she hardly heard it herself.
Help? Who'll help me? I've got to get up, and get out of here. I'm tired, and I'm naked, but I've got to get up and walk anyhow. I have to keep walking until I find someone. Or someone finds me.
She thought about that. Someone finding her. Naked, with whip-reddened, jiggling swinging naked tits, with her blond hair dirty and stringing loosely down over her shoulders and back and one breast, with Caballo's cum oozing in a tickling little trickle out of her red-lipped, much-ravaged pussy.
She sighed. Well, that might have been just too much for me a day or two ago-is that all it's been? It seems like centuries! But not any more. Not-any-more! No, I can handle it; who gives a damn? And if it's a man who finds me first, maybe I'll just ask him how he'd like a nice blow job or a good fuck!
That strange, un-princess-like thought touched off another realization in her-she was hot!
"Good God," she muttered, glancing around the room. "I'm hot! All this horror and death- and my body feels like a fire, banked with a few ashes but still smoldering and ready to flare at a second's notice, at the slightest chance or opportunity!"
She giggled. There was a rising hysteria in her voice. Then the giggle rose until it became a small cry, and then it died. Her eyes were huge, staring fixedly at Caballo. He was moving. He was not dead. His head rolled. His eyes fixed on hers.
She had never seen eyes like those. They were full of venom, full of hatred. He hated her! He was in pain, his comrades were dead and he was surely dying-and he connected her with all of it. She was the cause of their dissension and their leader's downfall and theirs.
She saw him glance around, saw him spot the knife that Edmunto had tossed aside to fall onto the floor.
Claudine watched Caballo wince as he made the effort. She saw his fingers clutch, flex spasmodically, then close around the knife.
She saw him squeeze it tightly in his hand, as if lovingly. Then his eyes met hers again. Hate seemed to radiate out from those staring dark eyes.
Then, obviously in pain and with tremendous effort, an inch at a time, he began dragging himself and that terrible knife across the floor toward her. His eyes left her face only to gloat over her naked breasts.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Claudine Brooks lay there, bound and naked, and watched the huge man called Caballo crawl painfully toward her, his glittering knife clutched in his fingers and his eyes on her shuddering breasts.
She was helpless. She could not even yell. Her throat was tightened up with terror.
He came closer and closer.
I'm going to die, she thought helplessly, and the worst part of it, in her new awareness, was that she'd never be able to prove to David what a sexy woman she was.
Caballo inched closer. He was no more than a foot away. She stared at him as if hypnotized, like a rabbit fascinated by the glaring eyes and weaving head of a great snake-that would soon kill it.
Then David Brooks came through the doorway, took in the entire scene in one swift glance, and bent to pick up Edmunto's pistol. He fired its remaining slugs into Caballo's back. The huge man's body jerked, his eyes bulged, then closed, then opened again-and rolled loosely. Then he sagged, and this time there was no doubt that he was dead.
Claudine began sobbing as David came over and kissed her. He worked fruitlessly at the ropes binding her wrists together behind her back.
"Oh-David, David, oh, darling," she kept saying, watching as he cursed, then forced the knife out of Caballo's fist and used it to cut the ropes off her wrists. Then he remembered to ask her if she were all right.
"Yes, yes, oh yes, darling, I'm all right now," she said, shivering as she rose and plastered her naked body against him. His safari shirt and belt buckle and whipcord pants seemed like silk against her skin. She held him very tightly, and when he at last loosened her grip enough to turn up her face and kiss her, she surprised him by trying to run her tongue down his throat. It was a long kiss, and both of them were panting when he broke it.
He gazed at her with a look of surprise, lack of understanding, and, she saw clearly and with delight, lust. She ran her hands down his back and onto his trousered buttocks.
"Let-let me check this bunch," he said tightly.
She stayed close to him, not looking at the bodies he examined, one by one.
He straightened slowly and slid an arm around her.
"Jesus," he whispered, "what a carnage. They're all dead-Juan, and Estrelita, and poor Morgana . . . Herrera, and all three of his henchmen, and . . . and George Buchanan." He shook his head. "He wouldn't wait," he murmured. "He just wouldn't wait. I started out the moment he hung up, but he was closer."
She didn't know what he was talking about, but she did know what she wanted. What she needed. She held him tightly.
"David."
"I've ... I brought your raincoat, Claudine. It's outside in the car."
"David."
"Maybe we should call the police," he said thoughtfully, "but, surely to God, Martinez can understand why we wouldn't want to wait here for him and his men!"
"David!"
His arm tightened around her supple, naked waist. "Yes, yes, baby, my poor baby."
She blinked and a little shiver went through her. It brought with it a tremor of rising passion she knew she would feel thousands, millions of times in the future. He hadn't called her "baby" since a month after their marriage. She had let him know she didn't like it. Now it sounded-beautiful. Warm. It made her feel very female and very much his.
He looked questioningly down at her. She had, after all, said his name three times.
She met his eyes. "Fuck me," she said quietly.
His eyes widened and then he blinked in surprise. His hand tightened on her waist, then loosened.
With a little twisting movement, she slipped out of the cradle of his arm and stepped back. She swept her hair back off her shoulders with a careless push. Then she gazed straight into his eyes.
"Doesn't the sight of me naked make your prick tingle, darling?" she asked. Suddenly her hands moved again, this time cupping her bare breasts from beneath and lifting their pale masses so that they swelled teasingly at him. Her eyes dropped; she saw the movement in the front of his tan whipcords, and she wanted to laugh delightedly. Instead, she said: "Yes, oh yes, David darling, please fuck me -now!"
"Clau-" He glanced around. "This place is -is full of bodies!"
"And the whip they beat me with, and the knife he was going to use to cut off my-my tits-" she let him see her squeeze them, forcibly-"and the smell of semen where they raped me."
His face took on a look of pain and he closed his eyes tightly. "Claudine . . ."
She slammed herself against him and her arms wound around his body. Her voice was an urgent, throaty sound of pleading.
"Yes, yes, oh, darling, they whipped me and tied me and spanked me and raped me and raped me, and you came and saved me from- him, and I want you! I want you to fuck me- I want you to rape me! I want you to stick your beautiful cock up m-my pussy ... up my ass . . . anywhere, darling, darling, just fuck me. I need it, please "
"Jesus Christ, Claudine!"
David broke.
Shuddering all over, he shoved her back onto the rumpled bed of her ravishing and was tearing open his fly even as she hit the twisted, ridged, semen-stained sheets and bounced. Her legs flew wide and her cry was one of both shock and delight. She sighed when she saw his cock come whipping out of his pants, and she saw that it was hard and long and thick with need for her. She kept her legs open.
She groaned aloud when he fell upon her, clothed, and rammed three times with his cock, desperately, hurting the soft-spread lips of her cunt and making both of them groan. Then the silky thickness of its swollen glans found the slit between those soft yielding sex lips and hurled them apart.
He rammed his fully clad body forward into her. He filled the hungry hole of her moist cunt with slippery cock in one gasping, slamming plunge. She grunted in mingled delight and pain and her arms swung around him.
His belt buckle slapped the soft round slope of her belly and shoved her slippery twat lips back into her as his poling prick plunged in and in, deeper and deeper into the wet inner sinews of her seething pussy.
His belt buckle hurt her. His shirt was rough on her naked flesh and the buttons of its flapped pockets dug and gouged into her naked breasts. The whipcord pants were like sandpaper against the silky inner curves of her thighs as he pushed and pounded into her flowing pussy. It all hurt.
And it all raised her swiftly into a state of pure lust.
She moved beneath him like a crushed cat, writhing and jerking and pushing jarringly up to him. Her arms found his neck, wrapped around it, and pulled him down so that his harsh shirt and pocket buttons crushed into the soft whiteness of her aching tits.
He sank his penis steadily and deeply into her until incoherent words escaped her gulping throat and her head flailed.
Thickly, his cunt-gluttonous tool bored into the steamy cleft, carrying his ravenous sexual hunger into her and feeding her own. She thrashed beneath him in sheer voluptuous joy.
He was filling her terribly hard and full, hurting her thighs and tits and belly, and she could feel his zipper track gouging at her clitoris. It throbbed and seemed to sing a song of lust between the wide-hurled cunt lips forced so wide around his deep-fucking shaft. He stroked her inner membranes with the entire length of his manly weapon, making her throb and vibrate on the delicious hot hole he pumped so wildly.
She felt so warm, so blissfully secure beneath his drumming body. This was her man. Sure, she needed cock in her-but this was the cock of the person she needed in her. This was totally different from the frequent carnal couplings she'd been forced into with her three captors. This man she loved.
This man, she thought, I drove into the arms of a mistress-because I was a princess in a self-contained ice palace. Well-never again! I'll keep him so busy there won't be anything in him for anybody else! I'll keep him fucked out!
She hunched and began scrubbing her clitoris painfully against his zipper as his prick pummeled in and out of her juicy gash. It hurt. Her clit would be sore tomorrow, and all red. She hoped she didn't cut it, break the flesh so that it would be too tender. But-meanwhile ... this was necessary. She had to rub it against his zipper, hard. She had to come!
So she rubbed her love button against the harsh metal teeth of his zipper, and he stroked and pounded and skewered her clasping pussy, and lust and the sweet, painful excitation of her clit drove her into a state of nervous frenzy, sexual frenzy, and he raised his body on his palms to stare down at her head tossing, jerking from side to side, her deeply flushed face and staring eyes and contorting face, and then for the first time he felt his woman contracting inwardly all around his cock, and he heard her scream out as he balled her, and he knew that she was coming.
That was quite enough to tip him over the edge. His balls started ramming semen up the gun of his cock so that it shot out into her in a spurting flood.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It was all just bloody awful, David Brooks thought, ascending the steps after the phone conversation with Washington. Buchanan's daughter . . . and now his wife was a widow and poor George was in the ground these three days, along with Juan and Estrelita. . . . And Dolfo was going to be shot, not hanged, because his country considered him not only a murderer but a traitor, and justice was rather swifter down here than up in the United States.
Yes ... the chief of the local Communist party was dead, and his underlings, all of whom they now knew, had both raped and murdered more than once. And Babaikov would tell his Kremlin masters they'd jolly damned well better just leave off trying to help communism in Espania!
David reached the top of the steps and turned to walk down the hall to the bedroom.
And . . . the Princess, he thought, wasn't a princess at all, she was a cock-loving wench just like poor Morgana-except that Claudine was very very alive and the Princess was as dead as Morgana. It had taken all this to make both her and David know it.
The Princess, he thought, opening the bedroom door, was dead.
Long live Claudine, cock-loving slut!
He entered the bedroom.
A naked woman lay on the bed with her white ass aimed at him. She was reading a paperback novel called Wet Dreams, about a bitchy female college professor who got herself taken down a peg or ten and entered into a sort of voluntary slavery to the man who had conquered her.
David knew about Claudine's secret stash of pornography, now. He had read one last night, and found that while it may not be necessary to read books to get turned on, these days, it was a source of excitement that put him in the general mood for sex-which was the mood Claudine seemed to stay in, now.
She didn't look up or turn around when he came in, though he knew she heard him. He grinned. He knew the game she wanted to play. Good. He liked it. It was not only fun . . . but he could remember all the bad nights with her, all the misery he had gone through, and gloat on the fact that he was at last getting even. Maybe that was an unworthy thought. But it was part of it, and it just got him that much hornier.
One thing he and Claudine agreed upon: anything that got either of them horny or hornier was not and could not be unworthy!
"Hey, Princess," he said, "turn over and greet your husband."
"Don't call me Princess!" she snapped pettishly, without looking up from the book. Her naked back was lovely; her naked butt was beautiful. Her hair was loose, a tendrilly cloud all over her shoulders and upper back. She'd be wearing it this way most of the time, now.
Smiling, nodding, he went to the closet and took off his shirt, shoes, and socks, then took it out. Since there was no one left of the three kidnapers to prosecute, Martinez had not needed evidence to produce in court. He had acceded to David's request for it-after David had agreed to Claudine's-with David saying that they wanted it as a sort of reminder, a souvenir. Martinez probably thought they were nuts.
How could he possibly think of the truth- that David would be using Gaston's whip on Claudine's silky skin because she wanted it?
"OK, baby," he said, "close up that book and flop over. It's time for some fucking!"
He saw a shiver of joyous anticipation run through her, but she gave her head a quick little jerk. "I'm interested in the book and I want to finish it," she said, in the same pettish tone, and still without looking around at him. "Don't bug me!"
"Close that book and get your ass off that bed and onto the floor, bitch!" he snapped, and he brought the leather strap rushing down to bite across the milk-white globes of her rump.
"AHHH-gaaahhhhhhh!" she cried, lurching violently and throwing her head back as the whip struck with a loud crack. The book closed itself, skidding across the bed. She bowed her shoulders, huddling and tucking her hands beneath her-and leaving her naked ass unturned and unprotected, letting him know she'd like another.
He gave her two more, making her groan and shiver and writhe her naked ass hills.
He remembered what she'd said that first night, just a few days ago when he had brought her home, her nakedness swathed in her raincoat, from that horrid charnel house cabin in the hills. They had been starting to get into bed when she suddenly sat on its edge and reached for his bare hips. She had just spent many minutes in the tub, insisting she was fine and promising to see Doctor Muniz in the morning.
"I need more fucking, darling," she had gasped out hoarsely. She pulled his hips closer. "I need this thing in me, darling-just be still, enjoy, while I suck it up for you."
She had, and their balling had been both passionate and beautiful.
Now, after striping her naked butt three times because she liked it and had made it clear by her actions that she wanted it this way tonight, he barked orders at her as if she were a brand-new girl in the harem.
"Now unless you want that ass bloodied, bitch, get it off the bed and hit your knees! Get my pants down and get some head around my prick, or . .
She rolled over, wincing when her harder-hit right cheek came into contact with the bed, then slid off onto her knees. She knelt there with her head down. He walked over to stand in front of her. Making a loop of the whip, he slid it under her chin and pulled her head up until their eyes met.
"You heard what I said, bitch. Down with the pants and in with the cock!"
"Yes . . . yes, sir."
And with a delighted shiver, she plucked open his pants, dropped them, lifted his feet out of them one by one, and shoved her face into his crotch.
He groaned and flipped her bottom lightly with the whip. She sucked hard. Another inch of his cock, already near to full erection, slid into her face. It jumped up to quivering hardness, almost instantly.
She sent blazes of lust into his passion-fired mind by sliding her wide-forced lips up and down his cock's swollen, slick length and moving her quivery tongue all around the hot shaft filling her face.
Her moist oral cavern clung to his prick, tongued it, sucked it, bombarding his senses with a thorough cock-sucking that brought a flood of warm sensation flowing all through his guts. Bobbing her head in rhythm with her steady suctioning of his big bone and kneading his balls, she worked hard to suck him off.
He began helping her, sawing in and out of the tight orifice formed by her straining, wide-stretched lips.
"Pinch your nipples," he bade her, teasing the sweet pink crack between her buttocks with the whip. They were widespread as she knelt before him, sitting on her own calves and heels, so that he looked down her back at the big white heart shape of her ass.
With a little humming groan, she put both her hands to her nipples and began tugging and twisting and pinching, without letting up her feeding on his cock like a straining succubus.
"I'd love to spurt off and give you a good drink of pure protein," he told her, stroking her soft blond hair, "but I think I'd rather jam it up your pretty pink pussy from behind while you kneel on the edge of the bed. That way I can reach around and try to drag milk out of those sexy tits!"
A wild tremor of sensual excitement rushed through her and her fingers clamped down on her nipples while she sucked his cock hard, drawing a bit more of it into the wet heat of her mouth. But she rolled her eyes up to his face, looking questioningly at him, waiting. The new rules of their new sexual relationship demanded that she stay where she was until he told her to assume the position he had described, not just mention it.
"All right," he said, giving her buttock a little snap and then dropping the whip, "that's enough. Get up and turn around-onto the bed on your knees, you cock-loving slut!"
She gave him a last hard suck, pressed his balls lovingly, and released her oral grip on his prick. Then she rose, squeezed him, and was starting to turn when he tipped up her chin with his hand and kissed her.
His mouth forced hers open. He kissed her cock-sucking mouth, licked her cock-licking tongue, tasted her cock-wetting saliva. She returned his kiss fiercely and squeezed him ferociously.
Then he let her go, and she spun around. She knelt on the edge of the bed, then moved a little farther forward until only her feet and the lower half of her calves extended out past the bed. She dropped forward onto her palms.
His guts went tight with lust as he stared down at the supersexy vista she opened up to him by widening the gap between her kneeling legs. Her lovely buttocks, bearing only the faintest of marks from the three whip strokes, were well parted to show him the deep valley that separated their pale whiteness. That snug pink crease ran on down to vanish into the swelling shape of her plump, rounded mount, lightly and blondly furred, deeply split by her sexual slash, and prettily decorated with the pretty, distended flesh from her shining love lips.
Clapping his hands to the soft flare of her hips, he shoved his cock into her easily available sex split and started hunching.
She moaned aloud and braced herself harder, staggering on her knees before the force of his hard drives into her already-flowing cunt.
He smacked hell out of her twinned balls of ass flesh, pile-driving his big prick into her glorious cuntal cleft with every ounce of his strength. She groaned and grunted and her tits jumped wildly up and down and swung to and fro. There were chunky, sweaty noises as they slapped each other in their restless dance beneath her bowed body.
She shivered and wriggled in a delirium of delight. He pulled apart the silky-smooth ovals of her butt, fucking strongly into the hole beneath them.
An almost savage fury of wanton delight seized her and she strained backward with her buttocks, working them against his hairy, sweaty groin.
"Fuck, fuck, oh, fuck me, darling!"
Her cunt swallowed his cock and squeezed it all along its long thick stem. Groaning and hunching in surging desire, shaking her hips to spiral her eager pussy around on the torrid length of his rugged flesh, she fucked herself.
He was happy in their newfound sexuality and in their new happiness together, and he was moving, screwing, with no less savage urgency than she. He belted it to her with great pistoning strokes that jarred her entire kneeling body.
Happy with himself and with his woman and with their new life together, he felt his lust rising and rising. He was coming, coming . . .