Keywords: M/F, M+/F, anal, oral, nc, BDSM
Author: W R Jenkins
Title: Trapped in Vudu Hell

Disclaimer:(standard) Do not screw up. Do not do anything illegal.
This includes specifically (but not limited to) reading on if you are
under 18- 21 in some localities If you are underage you must leave
now. If you're young and curious, this is not the place to get the
straight story. You act like this and people will look at you strange
and give you a wide berth. Also, don't try this at home. Some of this
stuff is just plain wrong, most of it is unsafe in the present viral
climate and some of it doesn't work in this universe. They are stories.
They deal with ideas, fantasies and thoughts that might not even be
pleasant in real life. Thoughts are like that. Fantasies are there so
we can toy with the sensations without feeling or inflicting the pain,
despair or humiliation. End Sermon.

Trapped in Vudu Hell: The Janice Ichorn Story - (trapped.txt) -
Not the kind of thing you're going to see on a Lifetime special even
if it does have women in peril, because there isn't enough left when
you cut the naughty bits out. But it is that kind of potboiler
melodrama, only dark, very dark from the heroine's point of view. M/F,
M+/F, anal, oral, nc, BDSM

Trapped in VuDu Hell
The Janice Ichorn Story

Lilah had been gone for a week. Even in her cute little fits of
rebellion she never stayed away that long. It was usually some
dangerously romantic night, or two at the most, going off with some
boy that caught her fancy or drugging herself silly and doing who
knows what at some rave.
Janice was sanguine about the process. She remembered her own
wild culling of the truth from the bullshit so few years earlier. It
was not a time when Lilah was going to listen to anyone, not even her
older, wiser sister who, incidentally, shared her sister's thirst for
freedom and excitement.
But Lilah had been gone for a week. There were dangerous things
out there that were not romantic as Janice well knew. Hoping the
feeling she had was wrong, Janice set out to find her sister.
Last known sighting, going out the door. No one knew anything. No
one had, or would admit they saw her. She wasn't with anyone, she
hadn't gone anywhere, but she had vanished. Janice stopped asking
questions and began to observe for herself.
Feeling ridiculously like some spy from a bad 60's genre movie,
Janice traced the movements of two of Lilah's friends to a brownstone
in the shabby part of the city. Two out of four windows boarded, the
fire escapes a disaster of rust, it was outwardly deserted, but within
its heart, the central rooms of the ground floor, there was life.
Decorated with whatever furniture could be carted off before the
trash truck arrived and having the permanent ambiance of the aftermath
of a drunken brawl, it looked like the last refuge of crack addicts
and violent crack addicts at that. Lit with candles that added their
dripping as if gore to the unsavory feel, it gave Janice a chill.
There were several, four or five, huddled over a censer breathing
the smoke from leaves a bald man in a red robe with epauletts shaped
into ridiculous horns was dropping on the coals. He was obviously their
leader as they looked up to him in supplication when the smoke was low
and they wanted him to drop another leaf.
Her friends were one thing, but Janice didn't believe Lilah was
mixed up in some drug cult. Her sister might indulge but she was too
independant to crawl under some heavy enslaving drug. Janice was about
to abandon the building to start her seach elsewhere when the bald man
in the red robe raised his hands. The others, she could see they were
five, stood up in a semi-circle around him. She didn't dare move for
fear one of them would notice.
He was spouting some kind of gibberish in a deep, important voice
and the others were swaying and calling back some chant. They raised
their arms and shook their heads. At that point the bald man led them
into the next room.
Drawn by this strange behavior, Janice wanted to see more. It was
like finding her way in a maze to discover the ruined wall that would
let her slip between joists and make her way to a chunk of missing
wall in that other room.
This room was different only in having what Janice supposed was
the same trash furniture covered by yards and yards of blankets,
sheets, drapes and other cloths. It gave the impression of some other
worldly terrain. There were more candles here, lending a glow that let
her see the inhabitants more clearly.
They were abandoning their clothes in a glassy-eyed state. There
was neither joy nor reluctance in the act. They became matter-of-factly
naked. Counting the bald man, Janice noted the two girls were
out-numbered two to one.
The bald man was to count, she saw. He did not remove his robe,
but swung it open so he was framed from his horned shoulders to the
floor by the red drape. He was the only male in the room fully erect.
Janice was certain an orgy was to follow. Just another disgusting
old man who used drugs to attract young girls and their followers to
have his way in exchange for enslaving them. But as she determined to
move away, she found her feet would not move her.
She watched as the man stretched out his arm, palm vertical as if
to divide them. The others fell back as if his hand had force. Two boys
and a girl on one side, one boy and a girl on the other, they were
laying on the draped surfaces stuporously.
Then the bald man brought his hands to the level of his shoulders
and clapped them once in front of his face. The others became alive
like maggots on a corpse and began crawling over each other. It was
the orgy she anticipated.
Only it wasn't. The boys finally became erect in their crawling,
rubbing, turning over each other but there seemed to be no interest in
insertion. The bald man watched and didn't join in. As the groupings
became more animate, more heated, he raised his hand again and spoke
more gibberish.
Janice didn't see the door in the far wall until the man led his
thralls to it. That was a problem. On her side there was nowhere to go.
As she watched them leave her view, she understood. They were not going
to a next room. The door was to stairs that descended.
She had given up on Lilah's friends leading her to Lilah. There
was no reason to see what would happen in the basement. But something
pulled her to retrace her steps until she could enter the first room
and then the second and stand at that door going down.
Lilah was not down there. If she still wanted to follow Lilah's
friends, she had only to wait until they emerged and resume her
surveillance. As her mind fought every move, Janice stepped forward
and peered down the stairs.
It was quiet down there. There wasn't even the sound of
breathing. They must have moved deeper into the underground. Still a
prisoner of an unwanted curiosity, Janice began to descend.
They had moved on. In happier times this must have been the
maitenance department. There were double doors ahead left hanging
uneven by the ravages of time. Janice crept to the gap at the edge of
one door and looked in.
The orgy was in session. Both girls were being taken front and
rear. One was on her hands and knees as two of the thralls thrust into
her mouth and rear. The other was squatting over the last thrall
bouncing up and down as the bald man stood in front of her and let her
suck his prick.
But that was not the revelation that sent chills through Janice
and made her hair stand up. Below the squalor and garbage that had been
the other floor and behind deteriorating doors, some one had built an
evil temple. This room was shining white with clean hangings and
illuminated by strings of golden lights. Even where rude cement
intruded, it was new, clean and cared for.
The intrusion of cold stone in the white surroundings and warm
light that most disturbed Janice sat atop three steps that formed a
bowl around the level where the orgy was occuring. It was a raised slab
a bit larger than a coffin and fixed with glinting hooks of steel.
Janice had no doubt about its purpose. Nor did she believe that
the rude copulating participants had anything to do with its
construction. These were stooges, flunkies, thralls. Behind them, above
them was an organization of means and power they only served.
She was no longer bound by her curiosity. All parts of her were
ready to flee. She carefully climbed the stairs and ran from the
building as fast as she could go.
The revelation troubled her. As days passed and her search for
Lilah was fruitless, she thought about it more and more. Was it
possible, just possible that Lilah's friends betrayed her to this
faceless group for some favor or consideration?
As much as she hated to think of Lilah in their power, for she
had no doubt as to the purpose of the ritual room in the basement, the
possiblity grew in her mind as she exhausted other possibilities. She
finally had to think of carefully inquiring about any group that might
be behind such a cult.

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Such investigation was more difficult than it seemed. You had to
ask a question that was an embarrassing admission in itself and you
had to open your mouth and speak to ask it.
Janice found herself failing to open her mouth several times
when she had steeled herself to ask someone she thought might help. One
lonely voice in her mind kept reprimanding her that she knew enough to
make an investigation on her own, but she was terrified of the idea.
The voice reminded her that she could be abandoning Lilah to
their intentions whenever it forced its way into her consiousness.
Janice didn't want to think if she was choosing her safety over her
sister's well-being and kept up her failed attempts at asking
questions.
Finally Jarvis Christian offered to help. It was like providence
because he began to ask her the questions that were trapped on her
tongue. He started by watching her research over her shoulder. He had
great suggestions where to find facts.
Together, it was like placing stepping stones leading from the
firm that managed the building to the corporation that owned it to the
conglomerate that wrote it off. It was all a tidy circle and both good
news and bad news.
The good news was Janice's suspicions had weight. Someone had gone
to a great deal of trouble to cover their trail. The bad news was the dilapidated building was the only lead.
There was no longer any decision over her safety and her sister's
well-being, unless she decided to choose her safety. There was only
one course if she wanted to find Lilah.
Jarvis volunteered to come along. She would have suspected it was
some macho gesture meant to win her, but Jarvis had never shown any
sexual interest. She was glad not to have to turn him down, because she
needed support.
Such support it was. They had gone nowhere before Jarvis clapped
a strong-smelling rag over her face and the world went black.
Even through the haze of waking she knew what room she was in.
The architecture was unique. With less evidence she knew where in the
room she was. Some sense of doom or intuition told her she was on the
raised platform that chilled her on first look.
There were rows of white-robed figures on the tiers that she
could see without raising her head. She was sure she was surrounded
by them. As she became more aware, she felt the bonds that held her to
the steel hooks she had observed.
She had no illusion that she laying unfettered, so it didn't
surprise her any more than her nudity. When she had seen the platform
she knew it was an altar for some sacrifice and, at the moment, she was
undecided whether she'd rather it was a sexual sacrifice or a human
sacrifice. If she just died, then she wouldn't have to think about
what happened any more.
Alive, she was left to wonder if her sister had been the
sacrifice before her and how she could have trusted Jarvis and how he
could have been so cold-blooded in his betrayal. And then there was how
she was trapped so easily and given up her chance to save her sister.
The buzz was in the room, not her ears. She became aware of that
when it grew louder and became a chant-like string of vowels:
Ahh-Ohh-Eee-Ahh-Ooo aoeau? It meant it was starting. There was a haze
in the room and she wondered if it was responsible for the way things
occured to her one thought at a time.
She was tied to stone, about to be ritually, somethinged. She
didn't think it mattered if she lifted her head. She was bad at numbers
like that. It was about 100 standing three rows deep on about 270
degrees of arc around the altar. She could count five- three behind the
priest in red and white paneled robes and two off to the sides in the
red robes she had seen before. They seemed like assistants to the main
guy in the two-colored robes leading the chant.
The man in black was behind her head at the back and she didn't
see him. She saw the censers giving off the haze. She saw the three
in red behind the priest feeding them. It strenghtened her belief the
smoke was making her thoughts slow.
She was also unmarked and unadorned. She turned her attention on
herself in the last moments it was true. The chant became a shout.
Bash-da? Mosh-da? Bosh-tah? Mash-ka? Or maybe all of them from
different mouths coming together? It was most significant because the
man in the red and white was approachng with a bowl in his hands.
Something, something, splat, he invoked and splattered her breast
in what was very much like blood with somthing that was the end of
a tree branch, more than a twig, less than a whole branch. Something,
something, splat, on the other breast, then a sharp, but more shocking
than painful stroke on one thigh, then the other.
She saw where this was going and waited for the slap between
her legs, but the priest started rattling a whole speech as he touched
the branch lightly between her breasts and drew it down. He was on
route to the suspected destination, but he was taking his time. It
seemed he had a lot to say in gibberish before he got there.
When he finally stroked it through her pubic hair and over her
sex, he had a lot more to say and louder. Then he brought a fresh dip
to her crotch and wetly covered her from back to front. She had the
impression the big finish was imminent.
That was when she saw the man in the black robe and knew why he
was here. He came down the center of the columns on her left and
when he came in sight, she saw, in profile, that his robe was open in
the front and he had a huge cock. He came, bent forward at the
shoulders, face pushed forward and turning from side to side, as if he
was searching for, or scenting, something.
The shout grew louder, faster, more intense. As he came toward
her, she saw he was wearing a mask like a child might wear on Halloween
with holes for eyes. It was triangular, pointed and looked like a black
devil. She forbid herself to look lower.
It was all very nerve-wracking. She braced for that huge thing
to plunge into her, but it seemed he stopped on the very verge. He
wanted inducement. It was the faithful he was teasing. She was being
kept on the edge of terror. As he waited for the exhortions to grow
louder and more raucous, she was plagued by a growing fear of what
pain and damage he would wreak on her.
To say it was a foot long would probably offend him. She knew
her panic must make it loom larger, it was at least her hope, but she
knew it could be no less than that and most probably half again more.
When it came, she had not overestimated her trouble by much. It
did not split her in twain, but it was an impalement she could not have
anticipated from experience. Much too big would have suited a cock
half its size. She felt almost betrayed that she had been able to
stretch to admit it when he managed to lodge it a normal man's six
inches inside her.
The crowd was unruly, beginning to move and dance. The shouts
were no longer unison making a roar bounce off the hard walls. He
moved again and went deeper. Her eyes felt they would jump from their
sockets and her thighs ached with stretching. Trying to open for him
didn't help. It only provided her a distraction as she suffered the
intrusion she couldn't escape.
She wasn't sure how she felt when he was in her. Too many of the
things she were feeling were nonsense. She couldn't separate the
impossible from the ludicrous. She was sure the impossible was true.
Havoc broke out in the arena. Now he had fully skewered her, the
others were throwing off their robes and engaging in their own rites.
They weren't there just to see him fuck her. She was like the
entertainment for their own orgy.
They came down in waves. The females first, throwing themselves
on their knees and pitching forward with their hands on the first level
of the dais. Men came behind them and drove into them from behind.
They ringed her in a semi-circle of undulating flesh, shoulder to
shoulder, hip to hip, copulating madly in the way that they all could
watch as the horrid man defiled her.
It didn't mean he desisted. He wasn't there to put it in and
start the festivites and then take it out and go away. He fucked her.
That was the technical term because it didn't feel anything like sex
she'd ever had before. It was more like being cleaned with a bore brush
from a canon.
In fact, he persisted. He seemed bent on extending her torture
as long as he could. It was something number, dimmer by the time she
saw the celebrants begin dropping out. But he went on. He didn't even
get serious until only a few stragglers were left screwing on the
floor.
By that time, mercifully, the damage was done and Janice only
felt the rock of her body on the rock as he picked up tempo. It wasn't
a porn film. When he reached his climax, he arched into her, and, if
his pause was any measure, pumped out the jizm appropriate for his
triple-long congress with his triple-long cock.
She lay there and seeped semen while the priest said some more
gibberish and everyone that wanted, which was nearly everyone, filed
by to touch the black-robed man's cock. For luck or something she
supposed. She wished it would pop up to pick the next victim because
at the moment she wished every one of them was getting that cock-
hard and eager in one orifice or another.
Dizzy, drugged, exhausted; she didn't examine her surroundings
when she was taken to a round room behind the altar and thrown to
the floor. It was an obscenely long time before she heard a timid
voice calling her name.
[Cue orchestra] She looked toward the voice and saw Lilah naked
in one of the cages surrounding the round room.

"Lilah?" some sister she turned out to be. She finds Lilah but
by getting trapped by the same fate and offering no hope of rescue.
"How did you find me?"
"I don't think I did," Janice said. "I think I was tricked into
coming."
Janice got up jerkily. Her hip where she landed might carry the
only exterior bruise, but she was certainly battered internally. She
turned to her sister, but Lilah shrank away from the bars of her cage.
"No! Don't look at me!" Lilah begged.
Nothing could hurry Janice to her quicker. Then she stumbled to a
shocked stop. Something was very wrong.
Happily, Lilah seemed untouched, but also well-fed, clean and
wearing make-up. As she took in these disturbing incongruities, Janice
looked to the back of the cage and noticed something more sinister.
There was a pile of clothes, underwear on top, lying in the back corner.
Lilah shrank back further and followed her sister's eyes to the
pile of clothes.
"I couldn't help it!" Lilah said, and seeing Janice still staring
at the clothes, added, "I couldn't stand you knowing."
Janice was still stunned. She wasn't sure what her sister was
admitting to her. She kept looking and finally noticed that not only
clothes, but a door was at the back of Lilah's cage.
"I'm sorry," Lilah pleaded, "I don't know what they did to me.
They made me tell. They made me weak and got it out of me."
It still was making no sense to Janice. It sounded like Lilah was
saying she had a hand in Janice's capture, but that was absurd. She
had been missing for weeks. And she hadn't put the rag over her face.
"That's silly. Whatever they did to you, they did while they were
holding you here," Janice told her. "You can't blame yourself."
Janice's attempt to shoulder the blame was interruped by the
door and the back of Lilah's cage opening.
"Hey - like the outfit. That what you're wearing?"
It was the skinny, scraggly boy she had followed to the abandoned
building when she first set out to find Lilah. He was as scruffy as
usual and Janice could see some of the others from that first drug-
induced orgy standing in the doorway behind him.
Lilah was hanging her head and then looked pointedly away. With
the eagerness of going to her own execution, Lilah walked to her
clothes and dressed. Janice was still trying to make sense out of it.
When she was dressed Lilah looked back and said, "I tried to tell
you. I'm sorry. I really am."
Then Janice was left alone in the round, cold stone room
surrounded by cages. She couldn't work out how Lilah had betrayed her,
even if she accepted her sister's words, and she was loathe to do that.
It was easier to believe that she had been brain-washed by the people
that staged the bizarre orgies in which she had just had the central role.
At least her troubled confusion took her mind off the discomfort
she still felt between her legs.
She must have slept because she was awakened by a squeak and the
scrape of metal on stone. She was alert much quicker than she had been
strapped to the altar, but not quick enough to avoid the grasp that
pulled her to her feet.
"I'm afraid we can't offer you the excitement of the full
assembly," said a man in red robes, "You'll have to make do with just
a few of us."
Janice was being held by another man and was pushed toward the
cage her sister had been in as the red-robed man who spoke led the way.
There was another small chamber outside the door which opened on some
kind of quarters.
Unlike the cold cement of the ritual chamber, this large room was
like the apartments above, only not ruined and with new furnishings.
There were rows of beds along each wall at the sides and assorted
chairs and tables which had been pushed aside to make a space for a
raised dais in the middle of the room.
Janice was taken to the dais and held as the man turned to her
again.
"No chains, you see?" he indicated the dais. "You may try to
escape if you wish. Pointless, and will bring punishment, but I hope
you try. I like punishing bad girls."
It was all too clear before she saw two or three others shedding
red robes and coming forward. It was the priest's turn. She had been
exhibited for- what had he called it?- the full assembly and now,
behind closed doors, they wanted their fun.
She counted five and it was no leap to assume they were the ones
in red robes on the platform. They were in robes no longer. They were
naked and crawled up on the dais when she was thrown down. The leader,
or at least the one who spoke, was still robed and stroking an evil
whip lovingly.
There was no escape. She feared the whip. When one of them
pressed his cock to her lips, she opened her mouth in resignation. If
she fought them she would be whipped, she didn't doubt the man who said
he liked it, and then abused anyway.
It made a good excuse for her to let them paw at her and do
what they wanted. She was still tender and that seemed to amuse them
in their sport. Sport it was, because she suffered rude penetration and
then some rapid thrusting before the one over her gave way to another
and it was repeated.
Likewise with cocks, one was thrust in her mouth to suck and then
replaced by another. They were reveling in their full rein over her
body. It seemed to go on forever before she noticed the subtle shift
to more serious pursuits.
She wasn't sure if he was first or last among them, if it was a
prize or a lesser pleasure, but one of them mounted her as the others
knelt around. He was not there for rapid thrusting and withdrawing.
She kept her face turned away as he labored over her, growing in
passion until he finally jerked and spasmed and was done.
It was just the beginning, a teaser. The other three closed in.
The man with the whip was still robed and didn't seem interested. She
thought for a moment they had regressed to sport as each took a turn
jabbing their cocks in her for a few thrusts. Then she was man-handled
into position.
Surely such were only wild tales born in the mind of some sick
pornographer. There was no reason, no way, three of them could use her
at once. And yet Janice felt the cock of the man she had been placed
over touch soreness inside her, like prodding a bruise, and the other
two were moving to the front and rear.
The reason might be in doubt, but there was a way for three of
them to use her. In an oddly circular way it took three of them for
three of them to use her. The first blundering attempt to force a cock
up her asshole drove fear of the whip from her mind and she screamed
and tried to escape.
The one beneath her grabbed her arms. The one trying to force the
narrow way, pushed down on her back and the one in front grabbed her
head. She was help more motionless than she had been on the slab and
there was nothing she could do to prevent the invasion.
She thought bitterly of old stories in which the heroine was
'violated' and how easy something so simple seemed, compared to the
feeling of her anus being forced open and a cock making its painful and
stuttering way into her struggling asshole. Then she wondered if she
had not mistaken the stories. Perhaps those heroines were being
buggered and there was no romance in the rape.
There was nothing but degradation and a sick feeling of evil in
Janice as the cock won its entrance. Shortly after, as she gasped in
pain, the third cock went in her mouth. A stern voice and a strong,
two-handed grip on her hair warned her not to use her teeth.
A plaything, a most rudely crudely violated plaything was all she
was to them. Somehow it didn't fit. It clashed with the pseudo-
spiritual trappings and they were bad enough. Now she felt subjected to
a sham and that she was being abused for her gullibility. Only none of
it was voluntary: she was kidnapped; she was drugged; she was tied down
and used; that it was amusement was only another bitter facet.
Like it mattered- her brain rebelled. She was being held down and
violated in every sense. Where she had feared death at the hands of
religious fanatics, she now saw death as her only escape from a role
as a live-action fuck-toy in the hands of a worse group.
Her outrage stormed on but even its fury could not outlast the
determined cock stabbing into her bowels. She had surrendered her rage
and was moaning at the rhythmic invasion as finally, and with a fury
that roused her from her despair, the cock drove deep and quivered.
"Now it's my turn, bitch!" she heard and her head was given a
dismissive shove, "You suck for shit."
They were no longer three, but two seemed to bedevil her more.
They worked in concert, or maybe without the disconcercion of the third
and Janice was stuffed in both holes by their cooperation. They awoke
the pain front and rear, fore and aft, as she was nastily aware of
both cocks.
At first they shared, one plunging deep and then the other,
filling her vagina and then her rectum in turn. It was an awful kind of
mechanical imposition as she absorbed the rhythm and became lost in
the regularity. Then the one abusing her anus doubled his effort.
There was cock in her ass when there was cock in her cunt and
cock in her ass when the other pulled back. Still holding her arms,
the man beneath her was forcing her to move with them, to push back
and take them both deeper.
The slight upturn in her situation when the cock in her ass
couldn't sustain its doubled thrust was little comfort. Janice felt the
cum in her ass with minor irritation and the cock pulling out with
minor relief. There was no real comfort in knowing they were done with
her- for now.
That was emphasized when the man holding her arms threw her off
and got up to stand over her.
"Here- take this," he snarled at her, jacking his organ.
Janice had barely time to look away as his ejaculation followed
his words and she was spattered with his semen. Besmirched inside and
out, there seemed no farther for her to fall.

"Will you stop moping and pay attention to what you're doing?"
The scraggly guy yanked on Lilah's hair to put her head in motion
where it moved up and down his cock.
"There's nothing you can do now and I'm telling you, you'd be
dead if you didn't have anything to offer."
Lilah stopped sucking his cock to look up at him.
"But I feel bad," Lilah said, "What do you think they're doing
to her?"
"Just what I'm going to do to you," he said, "So how bad is
that?"
Knowing Lilah wouldn't change her mood and concentrate on
sucking, he pushed her back and climbed between her legs. She could
worry about her sister all she wanted while he fucked her. It wouldn't
interfere with him getting off.
What was her bitch? He was serious about the danger. When they
stumbled on the ritual chamber, he thought they were dead. These were
some serious heavy-hitters who wouldn't hesitate to kill them to
preserve their secrets.
He could see how betraying her sister was tough, but it had to be
that way. They had to have something on her bad enough to insure her
silence. And now they had the apartment to themselves and all the stuff
in it. It didn't seem like that bad a deal to him.
"Is that all you do?" came a voice from the doorway.
He stopped humping Lilah to look over his shoulder. There was
Jarvis grinning at him. This was the one bad thing about the deal.
"Get off," Jarvis said evenly, "you have all day for that."
Lilah looked up dumbly as Jarvis approached.
"No, I don't have any drugs," Jarvis said with annoyance, "you're
going to have to do this straight."
Lilah stirred slowly. It wasn't drugs she sought, although the
forgetfullness would serve. She wanted something, anything to break her
mood. She felt doomed as Jarvis unbuckled his belt.
"Do I have to tell you everything?" Jarvis warned as he stood
with his pants around his ankles.
Lilah slid out of the bed and went to her knees in front of him.
Perhaps she deserved this, she thought as she took his cock in her
mouth. It would be too horrible to escape unscathed while Janice
suffered who knows what. It was small comfort as she felt Jarvis's cock
grow in her mouth.
"You can watch," Jarvis said sternly to the scruffy boy who was
creeping toward the door, making him freeze in his tracks.
He was hard now. He grabbed handsfull of Lilah's hair and held
her as he drove his cock into her throat. She gagged pitifully and he
chuckled at her despair. He kept fucking her throat until her struggles
lessened.
"Now on the bed- you know the position," Jarvis said as he
released her.
Lilah crawled up on the bed on her knees. Jarvis followed to the
edge and pressed down on her back until she was level with his jutting
erection. He entered her easily, following the other boy, and began
to thrust.
Lilah let her head hang as she took his thrusts. She knew what he
wanted. She knew how it would go. He fucked her a while and then she
felt his cock pull out. She braced. The next thrust made her cry out as
Jarvis rammed into her ass.
He liked her to scream. He fucked her ass with the same thrusts
as before, using both holes the same brutal way. She was getting used
to it. Lilah wondered how much of a deal it really was. She wondered
how much worse it was for her sister.

"Hold it open now."
Janice was on her knees with her face on the mattress. Both hands
gripped her buttocks to part them. The man with the hard cock behind
her was holding it at the base and then plunged into her anus. He
pulled out to look at the squirming hole he had made for a second and
then plunged into her ass again.
"Are you going to fuck around all day? Some of us want a turn,
you know." came a contrary voice.
"Then wait your turn," the man fucking Janice snapped back.
He continued his deep thrusts and complete withdrawals a few more
times out of spite and then drove deep and fucked Janice's ass in
earnest. As well-traveled as this road had become, it was still hot
and tight enough for him to grunt happily as he pounded on her rear.
"There. You happy?" he asked after he had cum and pulled out.
The other man didn't answer. He had been waiting and now he
wanted to use Janice.
"Slut."
Janice looked up vacantly.
"Crawl over here and suck my dick."
Janice looked over at him. As if in a fog, she began to move
hands and knees, across the floor to where he sat with his limp cock
hanging down. It seemed she once had an opinion about this, but Janice
couldn't think what it was. She moved automatically to him and bowed
her head to suck his cock between her lips.
Suck cock. She knew how to do this. Tickle with the tongue, pull
a little. Get it hard and move up and down. There was no more thought
than that.
When she was done, she got up and moved where she was told. She
vaguely remembered another place, but it must have been a dream. She
could only really remember cocks- how to suck them, how to fuck them,
how to put herself so they could use her.
Yes, that was real. The other stuff- just made up. She lay back
and opened her legs. No one came to her, but this was her position in
case someone wanted her. She lay and waited.
###