From hnh@juno.com Mon Apr 14 01:21:38 1997 Path: news1.infoave.net!news-dc-10.sprintlink.net!news-dc-26.sprintlink.net!news-east.sprintlink.net!news-peer.sprintlink.net!sprint!news-pull.sprintlink.net!news.sprintlink.net!news1.epix.net!enews.uucom.com!news.clark.net!europa.clark.net!news.fred.net!gail.ripco.com!news.wwa.com!news-out.internetmci.com!newsfeed.internetmci.com!demos!demos2!hermes.sovam.com!sovam!cam-news-hub1.bbnplanet.com!cpk-news-hub1.bbnplanet.com!news.bbnplanet.com!ix.netcom.com!news From: hnh@juno.com Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: Re: Mafia (nc, s/m, b/d, racism, bad stuff) Date: Mon, 14 Apr 1997 05:21:38 GMT Organization: Netcom Lines: 1132 Message-ID: <3351bdc0.19857026@NNTP.ix.netcom.com> References: <33385f97.7228135@NNTP.ix.netcom.com> <3335bddb.6173295@NNTP.NETCRUISER> NNTP-Posting-Host: nyc-ny47-23.ix.netcom.com Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-NETCOM-Date: Mon Apr 14 12:33:38 AM CDT 1997 X-Newsreader: Forte Agent .99g/32.339 On Sun, 23 Mar 1997 23:38:16 GMT, badwrenc@ix.netcom.com wrote: >On Sun, 23 Mar 1997 16:56:31 GMT, hnh@juno.com wrote: > >This looks like a good story..... but could you please repost it as >plain text.... we dont all have wordperfect as a word processor. > >bw MAFIA 1 Ralph was acting most strangely, and Bryll did not know why. But darling, why do I have to go to this thing? Bryll asked again. If it's just going to be one of those boring family business things... You do, Ralph said shortly. My father wants us both there. It's important. But why? It just is, Bryll. That's all. You'll find out. Now get ready, I don't want to be late. Sighing, Bryll put on a plain but attractive black dress which came down to mid-calf. Nothing too fancy or too daring for Ralph's family. This was obviously going to be a formal gathering, though not really a social affair. Family business. Usually a big bore, and why they insisted that she attend this one tonight Bryll could not imagine. But no way could she say no to the family. La famiglia. No way at all. Sighing, Bryll finished dressing. How do I look? All right, Ralph said, but he was frowning. What was wrong with him? What was going on? It couldn't be....no. No way. No way he...or his family...could possibly know...about David.... Down to the first floor. To Ralph's father's sanctum. Ralph knocking at the door. Come in. It was a fairly big room, dark, still, but now lit with many lamps and populated by what seemed at first to be many men. Family. Don Ricardo, Ralph's father, sat behind his big wooden desk. To his right stood Don Palladino, his brother and consiglieri; to his left, Bruno Montera, his bodyguard, large, still, mountainous and menacing. Looking around, Bryll saw most of the other Dons of the family standing and sitting about the room. Don Francisco, Ricardo's other brother, fat, gross-looking, cigar-smoking. Don Alberto, his oldest son. Don Gabrilli, Don Louis, Don Cabrini. And others. Cousins. Uncles. In-laws. And by a window, old Don Padrone, Ralph's grandfather, the patriarch, the wasted but still powerful family head, once boss of bosses, now a distant god. All the family men, it appeared. Waiting. Watching. For what? And why was she the only woman? If this was just business, why was she here? What was going on? Don Ricardo, as always, was most polite and soft-spoken. Ah. Good. You are here. How are you, Bryll? I'm good, thank you, Don Ricardo. And you? Bryll had to admit she was nervous. But why? I am not too well, alas, Don Ricardo said. Not too well, Bryll. His eyes, always bright, always formidable, almost scared Bryll. As did the way he said her name. Always. And now again. Her waspy, non-Italian name. Bryll. An outsider. Not even a catholic. Brought into his family by his son, accepted, she knew, provisionally, for Ralph's sake, but always an outsider. Suspicious. Not to be trusted. Bryll's throat was suddenly dry. It couldn't be.... No, Don Ricardo was saying. Not well at all. Looking at Bryll, his gaze boring holes in her brain. Betrayal, Don Ricardo said. Betrayal makes a man ill. Do you understand me, Bryll? I--no, Bryll said. But she was shaking just a little. Striving to breathe evenly, Bryll got hold of herself. What do you mean, Don Ricardo? Don Ricardo waited. Betrayal, he said. Betrayal of my family. Of my son. Of our honor. Our traditions. I think you know, my son's wife, that in our family that is not tolerated. I think you must know that. It is not accepted; it is not condoned; it is not permissible. And it does not go unpunished. I--I'm--I don't know what you... Bryll said. Don Ricardo stood up. We have something to show to you, Don Ricardo said. Sit down, Bryll. Sit right here. Coming around his desk, motioning her to a chair in the front row of chairs lined up across his room. Front and center. The other chairs filled with family, waiting, watching. Smoking. Still. But for one chair to the right of Bryll's, in which, once she was seated, Don Ricardo sat. Ralph had gone to stand in the back, now standing against a wall. Why was he not with her? Don Ricardo to her right. Don Palladino to her left. And now, in a chair just behind her, Bruno Montera. What? What was it? Bryll was frightened now. A signal from Don Ricardo. A wall panel opening, showing a television. A flickering. And it began playing. A tape. It was a tape of...it was a room, and it looked familiar, it was....no...dear god, Bryll thought, it's a dream, let me wake up, please god... But it was not a dream. Now there was David. In bed. Calling. Bryll? Sound. Sound, color, vivid, clear, god no, it can't be, please... I'm coming, darling. Her voice. And now Bryll on the screen. Christ. That nightgown. No. No don't... She was taking it off. Posing for David, smiling, turning, walking for him, slipping the nightgown off. A black skimpy bra. Black skimpy panties. David looking. Silence in this room now. Utter stillness. Bryll shaking her head, trying to deny, to block this out. It couldn't be. No please. If this was...but it was... Oh Christ. Bryll almost screamed. She started to get up. Don Ricardo put a hand on her arm. It was tight. It hurt. It was a warning and a promise. Bryll stayed as she was. Shaking hard now. Almost choking. Almost vomiting. And on the screen Bryll took off her black brassiere. Chairs creaking in the room, the dons shifting, leaning forward, gazing. And Bryll on screen taking off the skimpy black panties. Slowly. Rolling them down. Slowly. For David. Who was saying, oh yeah, baby. That's it. Show it all to me. Now bring it to me, baby. And Bryll walking to the bed, to him, lying down with him, and now the camera had a very good view, and Bryll's head was spinning, her heart was pounding as part of her insanely was figuring the location of the camera and most of her was drowning in fear, in shame, in horror, in humiliation, in frantic, pounding fright. No please. God please, it's not real, ohhh Christ.... It was real. Around her now loud breathing, audibly loud, shifting of positions, low murmurs, as on the bed Bryll and David kissing, bodies rubbing, entwining, now David on top of her, his hard cock, putting it in her and christ she was moaning, on the screen Bryll was moaning and saying yes, yes David, oh jesus yes.... and now Bryll's long luscious legs around his body, tight around him, clutching, pulling, and David moving, doing it to her, and both of them twisting, squirming, pounding, and Bryll now in her chair trying to scream but unable to produce sounds, trying to get up now, but Don Ricardo holding onto her arm, fingers digging, and Don Palladino clutching at her other arm, and now, behind her, Bruno Montera had hold of her long tawny hair, pulling at it, pulling her head back, holding her down, straining her scalp, and Bryll was moaning now in the chair as well as on the screen, but moaning not with passion, but with fright, and pain. With terror and agony. Sitting and moaning and shaking and hurting, with aching arms held fast and scalp burning as Bruno held her hair, pulling just enough to allow her still to watch that tape... I am dead, Bryll thought, they will kill me, as now she was on top of David, sitting on his hips, moving up and down, naked breasts bouncing, thighs churning, fucking David joyously, laughing. David's hands on her body, David arching and coming and Bryll crying out, throwing back her head, writhing in ecstasy. Christ. Ralph was standing back there, watching too, would he allow them to kill her? Would he have any say in it? Probably not. Probably he wouldn't want to stop it anyway. Now she was--oh god. Jesus. Going down on David now, all up there, all of them watching, murmuring now, her mouth on his body, going down, kissing his cock, moaning, licking it, David grinning and arching, now taking it in her mouth, taking it in in a way she had never done for Ralph, oh god, Ralph watching, all of them watching, that moaning mouth swallowing his cock, twisting on it, now sucking it, slowly, lovingly, sucking, up and down, up and down, faster, slower, David groaning, up and down, David pulling at her but Bryll staying as she was, looking up at him and sucking him, sucking him, on and on, until David came in her mouth and christ his gism spilling out of her lips and running down her face and Bryll sucking and licking and rubbing.... Closing her eyes, ohh christ, and now Don Ricardo digging his nails into her skin and saying, Watch, Bryll. Watch it all. Watch it, slut pig. Watch! And she did.... It was over. Silence. Don Ricardo and Don Palladino released her arms. Bruno let go of her hair. Bryll didn't move. It was no use. She wasn't going out of that room, she knew, until she was told she could. If she ever was. Don Ricardo now going back behind his desk, sitting. Looking at Bryll. A whore, Don Ricardo said finally. A whore in our family. A fucking Protestant whore. She had not known him to swear before. Bryll was shaking. Forcing sounds from her choking throat, Bryll said, Are you going to kill me? Don Ricardo gazing at her. Killing is too good for you, Don Ricardo said. Killing is vengeance. It is not punishment. We will punish you. In this family we punish betrayal. Not to say we may not kill you still. But that is for another day. For now it is to punish you. How will we do that. Don Ricardo looked around. Father? he said. Old Don Padrone stood slowly. His voice was a soft croak. Whipping, Don Padrone said. Whipping to within an inch of her life. And branding, Don Padrone said. And sat down. Palladino? said Don Ricardo. Don Palladino did not stand. Whipping, he said. And branding. Don Francisco? Whipping. Don Cabrini? Whipping and branding. Don Louis? Whipping. Branding. Whipping. Whipping. Whipping and branding. Branding and whipping. And finally Bruno Montera. The woman is a whore, Bruno Montera said. She should be used like a whore. Ralph? Don Ricardo said. And Bryll caught her breath, having almost forgotten Ralph. A long pause. Yes, Ralph said. All of it. Yes. Bryll was almost numb as two dons lifted her from the chair, pulling her forward toward Don Ricardo's desk. Placing her against it, facing Don Ricardo, they bent Bryll across it, pushing her body down so that her breasts jammed against its surface, her chin also touching it as she fought to raise her head, looking with panicky eyes into Don Ricardo's impassive face. Don Ricardo took hold of Bryll's wrists, pulling at her arms to hold her in position, pinning them down as he sat there. Bryll's body was sharply bent, her posterior sticking up and out, her dress skirt hiking slightly on her shaking calves. Bryll was gasping with fright, pain and shock. What-- she started to say. What--what are you-- Bruno, Don Ricardo said. Bruno moved behind Bryll and stooping slightly, pulled up the bottom of her dress. Now he was ripping it, splitting it up the back to the waist. Letting it fall, hanging now in two halves on either side of Bryll's lower body, showing naked calves and thighs and that round jutting protruding rump tightly encased in thin white panties. All of it, Don Ricardo said. Bryll was suddenly struggling almost unconsciously, fighting against his grip on her wrists, pulling, tugging, but to no avail. And Bruno Montera had his hands on the waistband of her panties, and now ripped them from her, baring her behind, dropping the ruined cloth to the floor. Bryll was crying now. Ralph, Don Ricardo said. Ralph came forward. Bryll was still frantically pulling at Ricardo's grip, but it was no use. Turning her head Bryll saw Ralph advancing, saw him unbuckling his belt, saw him pull it off. Holding it by the buckle, winding it around his hand a few times, finding the right length. No, Bryll said, whinnying, gasping, no god no.... Ralph, Don Ricardo said. Do it right. Don't stint. Don't worry, Ralph said. Bryll gave a cry like a terrified animal. Which is what she was, she thought, as Ralph raised his arm. No please....she got out. A swishing. A crack. A scream. A line of fire across her behind. It was her screaming, Bryll realized and she was already screaming again. Screaming first in pain, then in anticipation as Ralph swung again. And then in agony. No. No no it couldn't no. Swish. Crack. Scream. No. Swish. No. Crack. Scream. The pain unbearable. Swish. Crack. Bryll was screaming continuously now. She couldn't stop. Again and again, swish and crack and agony exploding across her behind and throughout her body. Swish and this time on her thighs, crack! Swish, never stopping, on and on, again and again, and Ralph panting now and the strap rising and falling and Bryll was twisting and kicking now, trying somehow, anyhow to get away from that ongoing horror, stamping her feet and kicking and flailing her legs until Ralph said, Hold her legs, keep the bitch still. And two of them, Bryll couldn't tell which, stooping, right and left, each taking an ankle, pulling her legs open, holding them wide, holding them tightly, off the floor so that she was resting on the desk, its edge cutting into her stomach, crying and howling and twisting and trying to beg as Ralph's whipping went on and on, and the dons now voicing approval, watching, urging him on, swish, crack, swish crack swish crack Crack CRACK CRACK CRACK..... Had she lost consciousness? Bryll didn't know. But Ralph had stopped whipping, though the agony was hardly diminished, and she was still in position, Don Ricardo holding her wrists, two others holding her legs apart, and now Don Ricardo was saying, Look at me, whore. But she couldn't. Look at me, pig. And now a hand in her hair, it was Ralph, pulling her head up sharply, Bryll crying out horribly with the pain in her scalp and looking now forcibly into Don Ricardo's face, his furiously burning gaze, whinnying in agony, gasping and sobbing. Cocksucking cunt whore, Ricardo said. And Ricardo spat full in Bryll's face, hard and copiously, spat as Ralph's brutal pulling hand kept her that way. Bryll took it as though struck by lightning. But Ralph still held her hair. Cock-loving whore, Ricardo said. All right. You like cock, slut? You like that maricon's cock, that one you were fucking? That man you sucked off, that motherfucking bastard you betrayed my son with, betrayed my family with, you got off on sucking his cock, right? All right then. All right, whore of Babylon, cheating worthless slut whore. All right. Suck it now. Suck it all you want. Here it is. This is his cock. His cock and his balls. All for you, cunt. All for you. Here!! And Don Ricardo took from a drawer what looked like-- And Bryll was screaming, a sound dissimilar to the sounds she had made under the whip, a new sound, an unconceivable sound, a cry of horror so profound that it sent chills through all of them. And almost fainting, but that Ralph still held her head up by her hair. For what Ricardo held was a cock and balls, a human cock and balls, bloody still, soft with horror, and Bryll knew it was David's, knew without a shadow of a doubt, David, oh good Christ, they had killed him. Castrated and killed him, and Bryll was crying and almost vomiting, and Ralph was pulling still harder at her hair, dragging her head far back, forcing her mouth, no, jesus god NOOOOOOO...forcing Bryll's mouth open and Don Ricardo saying All right, slut pig, suck this. Suck on it all you want. Eat it up, whore! And no, he was stuffing it in her mouth, no god no, pushing it into her wide gasping sobbing screaming mouth, noooo please christ, stuffing it in brutally and Bryll gagging and choking and almost vomiting NOOOOOO...and god Bruno Matera was there with a gag, Ralph holding her head still, Ricardo pinning her wrists, two dons still holding her ankles apart, Bruno placing the gag over Bryll's mouth and pulling it tight and tying it off and it was so tight and it kept her from spitting the thing out of her mouth, held it in inexorably and Bryll was still choking and gagging and retching, mouth filled with David's dead cock and balls and struggling through all that pain and agony and horror struggling not to vomit for now she knew if she did she would suffocate and probably they would let her, would enjoy watching her slowly agonizingly choking to death on her own vomit, so she had to fight it down, the disgusting bloody flesh filling her mouth, its taste on her tongue, in her throat, Bryll making awful muffled throat sounds through that tight gag, twitching and bucking and bridling as they watched, struggling to breathe slowly through her nose, and finally Ralph let go of her hair and Bryll's face hit the desk again. Ralph? Don Ricardo said. No. Ralph's voice. I won't touch her. Bruno, Ricardo said. Fuck her ass. No. All the saints in heaven stop this. For god's sake it couldn't... Bruno stepping behind her, no, his hands, his huge hands on her buttocks, christ no please...spreading, pulling apart, showing Bryll's anus my god you can't, please anything, you can't let this... Bryll struggled to raise her head, to look into Ricardo's face again, to plead, beg, to say she would do anything, that she was sorry, that anything at all no for god's please jesus but now Bruno unzipping and Bryll felt his christ so big no and she tried to scream and couldn't, nothing but tiny whimpering sounds, so frantic, so desperate, and straining, pulling, hands holding so tightly, fighting with no strength left to her and his huge thing at her anus and straining no and..... Ringing in her ears and her body and her soul and loud but faint but distant but distinct sounds of men laughing, shouting, urging him on, praising him, Bryll floating on agony and horror, as Bruno fucked her ass. Hard. Brutally. Savagely. Uncaringly. Plunging, raping, lunging, ripping, in crass deliberate violation in front of the family and Bryll praying to pass out but not doing so, howling like an animal around the bloody dead flesh in her mouth, against the numbing stifling gag at her lips, unearthly sounds coming out, inhuman sounds, and Bryll's body out of control but imprisoned by hands and now animalistically violated for their satisfaction, for their delectation, for their vengeance and for their lust. When finally with a roar Bruno finished in her Bryll was suddenly released and slid to the floor, lying prone, sobbing, moaning, retching, twitching, half naked and filthy. Stand up, Don Ricardo said. She couldn't. Could not move at all. Stand up, whore. Floating toward unconsciousness. Ralph, Don Ricardo said. Ralph standing above her. That strap, no. Rising, no. Coming down. Across her back. A piteously muffled scream. Now Ralph's hand again in her hair, pulling. Merciless. Bryll with cries of pain scrambled somehow to her knees, Ralph pulling upwards, Bryll standing now, swaying, shaking, whimpering. A nod from Ricardo and Ralph now ripping the tape from Bryll's mouth. Reflexively Bryll spat out the thing in her mouth, pushing, retching, spitting, getting it out and gasping frantically for air, mouth wide, bosom heaving. Strip, whore, Ricardo said. Bryll swimming at the brink of fainting. Dress torn from the waist down, lower body exposed, she stared at Ricardo. Show it to us, cunt, Ricardo said. All of it. Show it to us like you showed it to him. Pointing contemptuously at the still bloody piece of flesh on the floor. Bryll was trembling, shaking her head without knowing she was doing it. Looking at Ralph, standing with the strap still in his hand. Almost unconscious now with horror and agony and humiliation, Bryll lifted a hand, two hands, to the front of what was left of her dress. Turn around, Ricardo said, face the family, show all of us. And Ricardo rose again and came around and sat in a chair and Bryll was facing them all, all of them watching, waiting, and they had seen it all anyway on the tape, but this was different, this was in person, and personal, and it was for shaming her and violating her and degrading her and Bryll sobbed and began to unbutton the buttons. In a sudden profound silence. All the buttons. Down to the waist. Pulling the dress apart. Slipping it off, dropping it. Facing them in only a brassiere. Black. Waiting. Silent. Bryll was crying openly. As she reached in back of her and pulled the hooks apart. Now slipping off the straps, hesitating but not long it was futile, and Bryll dropped the bra and dropped her hands helplessly and stood for their inspection. Now gasps and murmurs and soft groans and shifting in seats. Standing for a long time. Until Ricardo said, Don Padrone? Yes, Don Padrone said. Ricardo said, Go to him. Walking across the room. Bryll did not know how. She was numb. But now standing in front of the small old man. Who raised his wrinkly spotted hands and placed them on her breasts. Bryll made a sound. The old man's fingers found her nipples, taking them in thumb and forefinger. And squeezed. Hard. Bryll screamed. Don Padrone pulled downward, forcing Bryll to her knees in front of him, writhing in pain and moaning. Take it, Don Padrone hissed. Take it out, girl. Still pinching her nipples. Crying, Bryll got his fly open and his small half limp cock into the air. He let go of the nipples and clutched both hands in her hair. Hard. Do it, girl. Do it now. And with no choice the kneeling Bryll brought her mouth to him and took his twitching cock into it and began to suck him, sobbing, shaking, watched by all, sucking the ancient cock, making it grow hard in her mouth, hearing his stertorous breathing above her bobbing head, feeling her own tears coursing down her face, the pain in her scalp, the bile in her throat, the lustful shouts of watching men, the gasping commands of the old man. Lick, girl. Lick it for me... Doing it, using her tongue, taking all of him, frantic to finish and stop the pain, but knowing it would never stop and now he was coming in her mouth and down her throat and Bryll had to swallow, she knew she had to swallow and she did, trying not to gag, to choke, taking it down, swallowing, and as finally he was done Bryll sinking again to the floor, gasping for air, curling, writhing, spasming in shame and terror. To me now, Don Palladino said from the other side of the room. Bryll slowly trying to stand, knowing she couldn't but trying, but now Ricardo said, No. Don't get up. Crawl, whore. Crawl to him. Crawl for us all. And all of them waiting. Watching as Bryll got somehow, painfully, slowly, awkwardly, onto her hands and knees, and then, slowly, painfully, awkwardly, began to crawl across the room. On all fours, like an animal. A dog. A pig. Crawling in front of the watching men. Crawling along the floor. Naked. Crying. Shaking. Crawling. All the way across the room. To Don Palladino. His cock was already out. Don Palladino also grabbed her hair and made use of Bryll's mouth, grunting and groaning as she pleasured him, but soon pulling away, pushing Bryll down onto her back on the floor, stripping himself rapidly, and Bryll crying out from who knows what unexpected depths, No oh god no please no don't do it please please I can't.... Why that outcry now, why when obviously it was futile, much too late, christ why, but jesus Ralph was standing above her and the strap and no no please I'm sorry, but too late and Bryll tried to roll over, roll away, and Ralph said, hold her. Please, Bryll said, moaning, bleating, please no I... But two of them taking her arms and somebody holding her legs and holding her spread out, sprawled out and helpless and it was no use, this time Ralph was going to teach her, and the strap rising high and coming down and cracking viciously across her breasts, and Bryll howling and almost pulling away from the hands, bucking wildly, but the strap again, CRRRAAAACCKKK on her breasts and again and Bryll screaming and saying please and Ralph almost mad with rage and WHAP CRACK SWISH CRACK! Her breasts on fire and Bryll shrilling herself hoarse. Okay, Ricardo said finally and Ralph stopped and sat down and Ricardo said Now. Bryll. Whore. All right, Bryll said, gasping, sobbing, All right all right all right allright please god yes anything, and Ricardo said, Let the bitch go and they did and Ricardo said, Ask Don Palladino to fuck the shit out of you, and Bryll said, got it out somehow, said, Don Palladino please...sobbing but saying it. Please fuck the shit out of me, Bryll said. Spread for him, Ricardo said. Spread it all out for him. For all of us. And Bryll did, spreading her legs apart and opening her arms and arching her body, that aching, tortured, pain-wracked naked voluptuous body. And Don Palladino took it, fucking the shit out of her just as Bryll had asked him to. And then all of them did. All of them taking her, taking her in every way, using her cunt and her ass and her mouth. Singly, and in twos, and in threes, and in groups. Raping Bryll constantly. Making her crawl. Making her suck. Making her do anything they could think of. All night long. All of them but Ralph. It went on and on through the night. At one point they took her into Ricardo's small bathroom and put her in the bathtub and pissed all over her, washing the gism off her body with piss, soaking her body and face and hair with piss, making her drink it, laughing, joking, asking her if she liked it, and Bryll said what they wanted, did what they wanted, and so they let her wash off and clean up and then it began again. Raping. Fucking. Sucking. Crawling. And they said Are you a whore, Bryll? And Bryll said yes. Say it, they said, and Bryll said, I am a whore. Again and again she said it. I am a whore, I am a slut, I am a cocksucking cunt bitch filthy whore... And she was. And at dawn it was branding time. Don Francisco lit a fresh cigar in honor of the occasion. Bryll was whimpering. Shaking. Don Francisco was smiling. Wait, Don Padrone said. All night the old man had not participated, as though that initial sucking had used up all his lust. But now he stood and took off his clothing and lay down on his back on the floor. I want her as she is branded, said Don Padrone. As she is taught whose she is. As that sign is burned into her forever. Ours. La famiglia. La cosa nostra. Burn it into her flesh and burn it into her brain. His cock was hard and quivering. Bring her to me, said Don Padrone. And four of them picked Bryll up and brought her to him and pulling her legs apart slid her down onto his upright cock, Bryll moaning and shaking, and they twisted Bryll's arms back and down so that her body was arched backwards, that writhing squirming terrified body pulled tautly back, breasts standing out, standing up and out, nipples hard with fright, and struggling vainly as Don Francisco puffed on his cigar, making it burn and glow redly, and crouched down in front of her as Bryll writhed on Don Padrone's cock, the old man's hands sliding up and down her thighs, savoring that soft smooth curvy flesh, savoring Bryll's fear and helplessness. And now Don Francisco raised his hand, bringing it forward, and now as he smilingly brought it into contact with Bryll's straining, quivering body, as he slowly pressed it home and ground it deliberately, painfully, mashingly, twistingly into Bryll's nipple and aureole, burning, grinding, twisting, branding her for life, Don Padrone shot his ancient dessicated gism triumphantly up into Bryll's jouncing, squirming, desperately straining bucking spasming agony-dominated body. Bryll thought they would kill her, but they didn't. They put her in a room upstairs, locking her in, and kept her there for a month. During that time anybody who visited her had a right to have his will with her. And they all did. But Ralph. All day they would stop in to fuck her. To rape her. And Bryll had to do anything they wanted. To stay alive. And she did. For a month. One at a time or two or more. Fucking and sucking and crawling and taking it in the ass and doing what she had to do. To stay alive. Why? She didn't know. When Don Francisco brought in the dog Bryll said no. Don Francisco gave her a choice. A free choice. Not fucking the dog and dying. Slowly. Or fucking the dog after being hung up by her wrists and whipped on every part of her body until he could no longer raise his arm. Or fucking the dog after being tied down and having him use his cigar again. All over her body. Bryll chose the second way. Long before Don Francisco was tired she was begging to fuck the dog. Bryll's screaming on that occasion attracted most of the dons to the room, so all of them ended up watching her with the dog. Fucking it. And sucking it. And fucking it again. All of them found it most satisfying. Finally as that month was up Bryll was let go. She could not walk. Bryll crawled all the way to Ralph's room. Crawling to Ralph, begging him to take her back. Sucking his cock. Licking his ass. Promising to be faithful always, and to be his slave. Ralph hung her by her wrists from the ceiling and had her watch as he fucked through the night with his new young girlfriend. Ralph asked Bryll if his girlfriend could watch him whip her. Bryll said yes. 2 Bryll was eating Don Francisco's shit. The fat cigar-smoking capo had defacated into a bowl and put the result, two long thick brown turds, on the table in front of the chair Bryll was sitting in, naked, with waist, torso and legs bound tightly so that she could move only her arms. Clamps, agonizingly tight, cruel alligator-tooth clamps, bit into her nipples, making her squirm and writhe continually in the chair. Ralph had given Bryll to Don Francisco for the day, to be his property, to do whatever he wanted with her or to her. Ralph did that a lot, giving her to various of his family and friends, and sometimes to virtual strangers. It was probably Don Francisco whom Bryll hated most to be lent to. Don Francisco could hurt her unimaginably, could think up the most agonizing torments; and that was what he enjoyed doing most. It wasn't enough that the clamps kept her body in awful pain, or that he could make her scream horribly for him any time he wanted to, which was often, by grinding out his ubiquitous cigar on her shrinking helpless body; he must show her how low, how degraded, how debased, how insignificant she was by making her do things no human being with any thought of dignity or self-worth could possibly do. But Bryll had no dignity or self-worth any more; it was not allowed. Not if she wanted to stay alive. Don Francisco put his shit in front of her. "Eat it all, girl," he said. "All of it, understand? I don't care how long it takes you, I don't care how much you throw up, I don't care how sick you get, I don't care if it takes all day and all night. You sit there till you got it all down. Clamps and all. And if I get bored I'll just burn you a bit, that's always fun. Or use the whip. Or think up something new for you. Now eat it." Don Francisco did not give Bryll a knife and fork; she had to use her hands. Bryll thought it would not be possible for her to do it. Just the sight of the turds was sickening to her, and the smell turned her stomach. But she had no choice. Bryll began. As soon as she put the first tiny bit of shit into her mouth, she vomited. Bending over as best she could to try to avoid splattering herself with vomit and shit. Don Francisco laughed. You can clean it all up later, girl, Don Francisco said. At that rate you'll have a big pile of it to work with. It will be fun to watch you clean it up. With your hair maybe. Or with your tongue, how's that? Bryll vomited again. Don Francisco laughed. It took Bryll hours to eat it, hours of retching and gagging and vomiting and crying and vomiting and hurting and writhing and desperate swallowing. Hours of agony and horror. But she did it. Don Francisco took away the ropes, but not the clamps, and then made Bryll get down on the floor and roll around in the vomit and soil she had made. Bryll rolled for him. Don Francisco said he would wash her off, and he pissed all over her, his piss splashing on her filthy body and her aching breasts and her sobbing gasping face. Drink, Don Francisco said, pissing at her mouth, and Bryll drank. Finally Don Francisco took her into the bathroom and bound her to the shower head and ran hot steaming water on her body till Bryll was screaming loudly enough to attract attention from the whole house. Don Francisco was happy about that, wanting them all to know his power, his mastery, his skill with her disgraced and dishonored body. Clean, Bryll lay down on the hard bathroom floor as Don Francisco delighted in taking her body, crushing her with his punishing weight, pulling at her hair, mauling her breasts with the clamps still on them, ramming her with his hard rampant merciless cock and making her twist and buck and flail and cry out in pain and agony and horror and degradation. Fucking her front and back, raping her vagina and her ass and her mouth, laughing at her pain, laughing at her violation, making her suck him for an hour, slow, fast, hard, soft, demanding her tongue, her lips, her throat, and Bryll did it all, knowing that finally he would give her back to Ralph, who would hang her swinging from the ceiling all night before giving her tomorrow to....who....oh god....who..... 3 How she was to knock on the door Bryll did not know. Turning, knocking with her elbow, not too loud, three times, turning back, waiting. Hoping nobody would come down the hall. What would she do? What could she say? Who is it? A man's voice. Probably Jim Ray Bursachi. That was the man Bryll had been sent to visit. A man she did not know. Had not seen. Who had not met her. But a man to whom Ralph was indebted. Bryll swallowed. It--it's Bryll. Bryll Dallaccio. Who? Oh god. Please, Bryll thought. I--I'm Bryll Dallaccio, Ralph's wife. I--didn't Ralph tell you I was coming? What the hell-- And footsteps now approaching the door, the door opening. A man standing there. Annoyed. A not very good-looking man, not young, not old. Not fat, not thin. A man. Looking at her. Looking at Bryll standing there at his door in a thin tight pullover and a short tight skirt. High heels. No stockings. No bra. And with her hands tied tightly behind her, bound securely with strong thin rope. The man looking, starting, staring, looking her up and down. Jesus, the man said. What-- A pause. Ralph, huh? Ralph sent you? I thought he told you, Bryll got out. No. So okay. Come on in. Bryll did, and he was closing the door, turning, looking up and down again. So what's this all about? Jim Ray Bursachi said. Bryll took a shaky breath. I--Ralph...says he owes you. I don't know what for. He is giving me to you for the day. And night. As a gift. A gift, Jim Ray Bursachi said. A gift, huh? And just what am I supposed to do with this gift, can you tell me that? What's your name again, honey? Bryll, Bryll said. Bryll. Okay, if you say so, Bryll. Now can you tell me what Ralph wants me to do with this gift of his? Not that it's not a nice gift, mind you. Not that it's not pretty and damn sexy and all wrapped up in a fine bright package...complete with string... But what's it for, can you tell me that, Bryll. For...for...anything you want, Bryll said. That's what it's for. Anything you want. Anything? Jim Ray said. Anything at all? Yes, Bryll said. Jim Ray nodded. Uhuh. Uhuh. Okay. I get it. Kind of a payoff, only without Ralph having to put out any cash money, is that it? Kind of a bribe, maybe? I don't know, Bryll said. I don't know anything. Uhuh. But you know you came to me all tied up and said I could do anything with you I wanted, isn't that right, Bryll? Yes, Bryll said. I had to. I have no choice. Ralph owns me. Right. And now I own you. For today and tonight. Is that it? Yes, Bryll said, whispering, shaking. That's it. All right, Jim Ray said. Good. Fine. Terrific. Go stand against the wall. Stand... Right. Against the wall. Right over there. Go on. Back up against it, stand straight. Good. That's it. Bryll darling. That's the way. Now. Walking toward her, smiling, talking. And as he reached her Jim Ray without warning drew back his fist and punched Bryll as hard and as powerfully as he could in the pit of her stomach. Bryll was on the floor, not knowing how she got there but rolling spasmodically against the not-too-clean carpet, unable to breathe, trying vainly to gasp for air, choking, gagging, retching, jerking, legs flailing, arms instinctively pulling at the unyielding ropes, turning purple, body curling into a ball and uncurling, kicking, bucking, gurgling, rattling noises coming from her throat, the agony that suffused her body overshadowed by the necessity to pull in air, to breathe again, until finally with a great heaving gasp she did, letting it out with a loud moaning cry of pain and fear and shock and helplessness. Jim Ray was watching. Looking down, smiling slightly, nodding pleasantly as Bryll's rolling, twisting, spasming body writhed for his delectation. Okay, Jim Ray said finally. Good show, Bryll. So. Is that the kind of thing Ralph had in mind, do you think? Bryll could not say anything. Bryll? Jim Ray said. I'm asking you a question, Bryll. You don't want to be rude to me, do you, Bryll? Bryll did her best to still her gasping pants. Yes, she said finally. Yes, I think it is. And now Bryll was crying softly, but soon stopped herself. She was in for it. This was a man like Ralph, like Don Francisco, like Ralph's father Ricardo, like...like all men. All of them. Wanting to see her in agony. Wanting to make her scream. And crawl. And grovel. Wanting to degrade her, to destroy her, to violate her body and mind and soul. Which was what her life was now about. Damn, Bryll, Jim Ray said now. I love the way that skirt thing climbs up your legs as you're twisting around like that. I mean the damn thing is so fucking short anyway, isn't it? And now I can see practically everything you got down there. And Bryll honey, you have got the most fantastic legs I ever saw, and I'm not just saying that, baby, those are truly gorgeous gams, all the way up, at least as far up as I can see, which is pretty far up. But I'd like to see still more, so why don't you pull that thing up still further for me, okay, Bryll? Pull it up all the way. Go on, darling. But--but I can't... Bryll said fearfully. My--my hands... Oh I know, your hands are tied that way, and I want you to know I do appreciate that little touch, Bryll, because it makes your tits push out so beautifully and thrust so tight against that top that I can almost make out your nipples. And you're not wearing a bra either, isn't that right, Bryll. Yes, Bryll got out. Still panting slightly. I mean no. I'm not. Ralph... Yes, good old Ralph, Jim Ray said. Well. Anyway. The thing is, I don't think having your hands so sweetly tied up that way is really going to stop you from pulling that skirt up for me if you really try, Bryll. And I do want you to try. Do it, Bryll. Go on. Because I don't want to have to punch you again. That was just to get your attention, you might say. I could kick you though, Bryll. The way you're lying there on your side, I could just stand here and kick you right in the tit, to show you I'm not kidding about what I want you to do. Wait... Like this, Jim Ray Bursachi said, and swiftly he drew back his right foot and did just that, kicking her hard and fast and viciously with all the power at his command, the toe of his shoe sinking cruelly into the springy vulnerable yielding flesh of Bryll's right breast. Bryll screamed loudly and shrilly, agony bursting through her straining body, which now rolled onto its back, rocking, writhing, arching, going crazy in its pain, her arms pulling so hard that her wrists scraped themselves raw against the unmoving bonds. Howling. Bucking. Jim Ray stood over her. Bryll now pulling with more purpose at her bound wrists, straining her arms, grabbing frantically for her skirt at the back, pulling it up, desperately bunching it in her hands, babbling. I'm doing it, Bryll cried hopelessly, please I'm doing it, and bunching the skirt in her straining aching hands, until it was pulling up over her thighs, all the way over her panties, pulling up to her waist, pulling. Ah, Jim Ray said. God, those thighs. Those legs. God. Bryll. Open them. Spread them out for me. Go on. All the way. Spread yourself. Bitch cunt whore cocksucking slut twat shit fuck baby. Do it. Do it. And Bryll, crying, sobbing, shaking, did it. With his words pouring over her, with her bound helpless body lying at his feet, with her hands crushed beneath her, with her body arching and straining and squirming, Bryll spread her gorgeous naked fabulous voluptuous fantastic wonderful mouth-watering shapely curvy sensuous scrumptious legs far apart, as far apart as she could, the muscles and tendons of her magical thighs standing out against the soft smooth flesh, the sculpted molded calves tightening, flexing, thighs splaying, and Jim Ray Bursachi reaching down to rip the flimsy panties from her loins, laughing as Bryll's gaping vagina awaited him, now throwing himself down on top of that body, between those straining stretching legs and looking into her eyes and grabbing her hair and pulling her head back and saying, Kiss me, Bryll baby. Kiss me good. And I mean good. And pulling at her hair and crushing her body and raping her cunt with his cock and his mouth was on hers and Bryll was kissing him, kissing him for all she was worth, moaning with agony and shame and horror into his mouth and giving him her tongue and probing his mouth with it and taking his down her throat and twisting under him and kissing him and wrapping her legs around his body and kissing him and pressing her lips against his and playing with his tongue and crying and groaning and sobbing and gasping and fucking him fucking him fucking him fucking him fucking him as Jim Ray was raping her and ripping her top open and mauling her breasts and biting her lips and plunging into her again and again and Bryll crying and fucking and whimpering and writhing and clutching him with her legs because she didn't want to die and she had to do what Ralph said and this was only the beginning for Jim Ray and she had to survive and Bryll was kissing and fucking and arching and Jim Ray was coming and he heaved up above her and stuck his throbbing cock in her face and Bryll took it in her mouth and licked it and sucked the gism out of it and took it down her throat and on her face and Bryll was screaming as he clamped her nipples and it was just starting, the day was young, the night was coming, and Bryll crawled for him all night long and in the morning she fucked his dog and then went home to Ralph. 4 Bryll was standing at the foot of Ralph's large bed, stark naked, her body stretching tautly with arms and legs spread wide and bound tightly to the two tall bedposts at the bottom corners, facing inward so that she could watch Ralph and Cindy lying on the bed, fucking. Ralph was lying on top of Cindy, who was young and curvy and blonde and whose hands were tied behind her back, and who was crying and moaning and struggling vainly as Ralph had his way with her. Ralph found it stimulating that Cindy was bound that way, and that she was so unwilling; and he found it still more stimulating to be raping the girl in front of Bryll, his wife, particularly in the present circumstances. Standing behind Bryll was Bruno Montera, Ralph's father's personal bodyguard, a huge hulk of a man who at the moment was holding a thick black vicious-looking leather strap, with which he was whipping Bryll, at regular intervals, with all the strength of his arm. With each sound of the strap whistling through the air, accompanied by Bruno's grunt of effort, Bryll would gasp or whimper or moan piteously, her body flinching, pulling instinctively and vainly against the ropes that held her body spreadeagled; and with each loud terrible crack of that strap across her back, she would scream loudly and shrilly, a sound of such agony and horror that it was obvious that the pain was almost inhumanly unbearable. Bruno Montera's eyes glittered as he whipped the strap again and again, tirelessly, relentlessly, across the cringing flesh, hitting Bryll's back, striping it from shoulders to waist, with an occasional lash at her curving buttocks and her deliciously splaying, fabulously curvacious thighs. But mostly on her back, up and down, again and again, hard as he could; and every scream was adding to Ralph's pleasure, giving him additional thrills as he went on fucking the bound and sobbing young girl beneath him. Oh yeah, Ralph growled, his hands moving roughly over Cindy's twisting body, his hips pounding his cock harder and harder into her squirming jouncing pussy, oh yeah, do it Bruno, whip the shit out of the filthy adulterous bitch. Scream for me, baby, Ralph would say, and Bruno would make the strap whistle and crack against Bryll's back, and Bryll would scream for him. For them. And Ralph would laugh and fuck Cindy harder, finally turning Cindy over and forcing himself into her tiny ass, as Cindy howled, but not as loudly as Bryll. How is it, Bryll darling? Ralph said, fucking Cindy's ass. It's good for me, I'll tell you that. You whore slut bitch, yes, scream, baby, it keeps me so hard, it makes me so fucking randy to hear you yelling like that. Don't stop, Bruno. You can have her when it's over. Can't he, Bryll? Bryll was screaming. Ralph stopped fucking Cindy for a moment and turning to Bryll's outstretched form raised himself up and reached out to clasp her outthrust breasts, her soft pink quivering nipples, in his hands. Squeezing. Can't he, Bryll? Ralph said, grinning at her. Say it. Say it, damn you! Pinching with all his strength, and Bryll howled YES! YES YES YES HE CAN YES PLEASE GOD YES!!!.... Good, Ralph said, and now pulling out of Cindy's ass he turned her again and grabbing her long blonde hair, pulling it back and down so that the girl's twisting face was turned up to him, forcing her mouth open with the pain and pressure at her scalp, Ralph rubbed his big hard straining cock across her face, and then brought it to her lips. Take it, girl, Ralph said. Take it in, Cindy baby, suck it for me, or do you want to be where Bryll is? And he rammed his cock hard into that moaning, gasping, sobbing mouth and laughed as Cindy began to choke and gag. Bruno, Ralph said, and Bruno swung the strap, and Bryll's body stiffened and bucked and Bryll was screaming louder than ever. Yes! Ralph said, pumping away into Cindy's retching face, yes, that's it baby, you scream all you want. Ralph...Bryll was gasping, quivering, frantic. Ralph please. Make him stop, please. Please, Ralph no more. I can't. Ralph. I'll do anything, please. God. Ralph. No. No. NOOOOOOOO... Ralph was holding hard to Cindy's hair, making her cry out in torment around his cock as now he shot his gism into her mouth and down her throat with the inspiration of Bryll's latest scream. Sweet baby, Ralph said, and pushing Cindy away from him lay her down on her back and began slapping her breasts. What will you do, Bryll? Ralph said, his hand swinging back and forth, cracking rhythmically across Cindy's round high mounds as the girl twisted weakly, kicking her thrashing legs and trying vainly to get away. What can you possibly do that you haven't done for us? Or won't do if we want you to. What, Bryll? Nothing, that's what. Not a damn fucking mother-grabbing thing, right, Bryll, baby? Ralph...god....I'm begging you...begging you... A little pity...oh god please...just a little pity... HAAAUUUUGGHHHHHHH.... Good boy, Bruno, Ralph said, and now he gave Cindy a vicious shove, so that the girl rolled off the bed and landed hard on the floor, writhing and kicking. You can fuck this one first, Bruno, Ralph said, and as Bruno, grinning, moved to the helpless naked form on the floor, Ralph took the strap from his hand. Pity? Ralph said, facing Bryll now. Pity, is it? Bryll's eyes widened as Ralph wrapped the strap around his hand, leaving just a short length dangling. Swaying. Swinging. Bryll shook her head pleadingly. Pity, Ralph said, raising his hand. Ralph, Bryll cried out fearfully. Ralph for god's sake... Was it pity you had when you fucked that bastard son of a bitch David? And now Ralph swung the strap and lashed it hard, hard, hard, across Bryll's right breast. Bryll screaming and writhing. Was it pity when you sucked him off, Bryll? Swing. Whap! The left breast. Bryll howling, trying to plead. Was it pity when you got on top of him? WHAP! And fucked his brains out? WHAP!! And came with him, you filthy whore, and sucked him again? WHAP! WHAP!! WHAP!!! Bryll pulling desperately at the ropes till her wrists were bloody, her breasts bouncing, torso bucking back and forth, mouth wide and screaming, screaming, screaming, as WHAP!! WHAP!! WHAP!!! again and again across her agonized bounding breasts, and then Ralph stood up on the bed and grabbed Bryll's hair and pulled her head most painfully downward and forced her mouth over his cock. Fucking her mouth, raping it, raping it relentlessly as Bryll's howls were muffled by his hard stiff meat, and at the same time Bruno Montera was bringing howls from Cindy, mauling her breasts and holding on to her straining thighs, pushing them back to the breaking point as he raped her asshole. Ralph shot his come into Bryll's mouth, then lay down to watch Bruno pulling Cindy's face to his crotch, fucking Cindy's mouth while pulling her arms up behind her, making her moan around his cock, and finally starting to pull back her fingers slowly until they broke, one by one, laughing and cracking each finger in turn, relishing Cindy's horrible screams of agony around his cock with each snap, until all Cindy's fingers were broken and Bruno played with them until Cindy's twisting spasming moaning howling mouth made him come down her throat. At last Ralph cut Bryll down and told her to crawl to Bruno and suck him until he was hard again. And Bryll did that. And then crawling to Ralph and doing the same thing. And then sucking both of them in turn, crawling, sucking, sobbing, and screaming as from time to time they whipped her, front and back, to inspire her to suck them as skilfully as she could, and Bryll did that, sucking and crawling and swallowing as they shot into her fine sweet moaning gasping sobbing crying twisting pleading begging screaming yelling gorgeous sensuous quivering aristocratic mouth. Then Ralph and Bruno had Bryll use that mouth on Cindy, who with her hands still tied and her fingers broken and her life ruined, came uncontrollably, coming and coming and coming and sobbing and coming as Ralph and Bruno laughed and Bryll saw them growing hard again and began to cry... 5 Cunt cocksucking niggerfucking twat whore, Ralph said. Is that what you did, Cindy? Bryll said, licking Cindy's face, licking Cindy's mouth. You fucked a nigger? Is that why they did this to you? Cindy could not answer, lying as she was in a semi-conscious state with her bound hands and broken fingers crushed beneath her young luscious quivering body, the agony still possessing that once springy vibrant form. Bryll was crouching over Cindy, also in extreme pain, with no broken bones but with her back and buttocks and thighs and also her breasts striped with whip marks, wrists bloody from being bound not long ago, ankles chafed, limbs aching with strain from which they had only a short while ago been released. Bryll was licking and kissing Cindy on command of her husband Ralph and of Bruno Montera, who stood watching, Ralph still holding the thick hard leather strap with which Bryll had been beaten by both of them, Bruno grinning and flexing the huge hands with which he had deliberately snapped all of Cindy's fingers while fucking her mouth. Bryll was doing what she was doing in order to avoid being hurt again, at least for now. Obeying Ralph's commands, as she must always do. Bryll had licked Cindy's twisting aching violated vagina for a long time, causing Cindy in her ruined state to climax helplessly again and again, coming and coming and coming as Ralph and Bruno laughed and laughed. Now Bryll was kissing and licking Cindy's face and body and Cindy was half-consciously squirming and writhing and moaning and begging. Fucking a nigger, Bryll said, god, how was it, Cindy? Did he have a big cock? Was he good, Cindy? Cindy was moaning as Bryll put her tongue in Cindy's mouth. I have never fucked a nigger myself, Bryll said, and Ralph said, But you fucked that asshole shit David, didn't you, cunt, and Bryll said Yes I did, and David raised the strap and brought it down to crack viciously across Bryll's back, and Bryll screamed into Cindy's mouth. Sit on her fucking face, you whore, Ralph said. Bryll said, I'm sorry, Cindy, and crawled up and turned to face Ralph and Bruno and sat down on Cindy's face, splaying her thighs so that her cunt was pressing directly down over Cindy's gasping panting moaning mouth. Cindy could hardly breathe, and Bruno laughed, saying, lick her Cindy doll, lick that cunt for us, go on. But Cindy could only whimper and twitch weakly, until Bruno got down and took Cindy's foot in his hands and said, all right, maybe your fingers didn't do the trick, maybe you want your toes broken too, and Cindy made a terrible animal sound of fright and horror and pleading and her body bucked, but Bruno said, do it, baby, and bent Cindy's big toe back until it snapped. Cindy began to buck and jerk and flail in agony, screaming into Bryll's vagina, and as Bruno took hold of her second toe Cindy frantically put out her tongue and was licking, licking and moaning and making stifled muffled begging noises. Do it, Bruno said, and broke the toe. Cindy's thrashing tormented body bouncing helplessly up and down on top of her tightly bound and broken torturously aching hands, adding to her pain, Bruno snapping each toe in turn, going to Cindy's other foot, Cindy howling and licking and shrieking and arching and slamming back and screaming and tonguing and kissing and gasping for breath and Bruno laughing and Ralph watching and Bryll squirming on Cindy's face and going crazy with Cindy's tongue in her cunt and Ralph swinging the strap to whip her across her bouncing shuddering breasts. You want to fuck a nigger, you whore? Ralph said. You will all right. You will, Bryll, you will fuck every nigger I can find, you got that? And Bryll was yelling, howling, YES! YES YES I WILL YES ALL RIGHT PLEASE RALPH I WILL YES ALL RIGHT I WILL FUCK ANY NIGGER YOU WANT ME TO PLEASE GOD RALPH STOP I'LL FUCK THEM ALL I'LL SUCK HIS COCK I'LL LICK HIS ASS I'LL EAT HIS SHIT PLEASE RALPH I'LL WRAP MY LEGS AROUND HIM AND FUCK THE SHIT OUT OF HIM I SWEAR I WILL RALPH PLEASE HHHHHAAAAUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHHHH..... And she did. 6 When finally Ralph decided to kill Cindy off he brought in the black man that she had fucked and on pain of death made him cut Cindy's nipples off and feed them to her. He forced Cindy to chew them and swallow them, and Cindy quite visibly lost her mind, mewling like an animal, all sanity obviously diminishing under the agony and inconceivability of what Ralph was making her do. Ralph had the black man fuck Cindy in the ass as she was dying, continuing even after she was dead, finally coming in the anus of a corpse. That was your last fuck, nigger, Ralph said, and had Bruno castrate him. That is what I will do to you, Bryll, Ralph said, if you ever try to run away from me. I will cut off your nipples and fucking make you eat them. I'm not shitting you, Bryll. I know, Bryll said. I will not run away. I will stay with you until you kill me, or you give me to someone who kills me. Lick Cindy's cunt, Ralph said. Oh jesus, Bryll said, oh good christ, Ralph, she's... I know, darling, I know she is dead, but that's the fun of it, you know? Making you do something disgusting like that. You fucking slut cunt. Ralph, I'm sorry about David, I'm sorry, it was just that one time, that's all, it was only... I saw you, Bryll. In that film. I saw you fucking him. And sucking him. And kissing him. And coming for him. But...you killed him, Ralph. And I'll kill you too, Bryll, if I want to. You know that, don't you? Yes, Ralph. I know that. Now I want to watch you licking Cindy, okay? See if you can make her come now. You did it so well, you made the bitch climax again and again, in spite of everything, didn't you? Real good tongue you have there, Bryll. I remember it. I'll never feel it again, I wouldn't touch you with a thirty-foot log, Bryll, but I know it's a great tongue. Now you can use it on Cindy again, and if you make her come this time it'll really be something, won't it? Go on, Bryll. Do it right now. And Bryll crawled to Cindy's body and spread the lifeless thighs apart and taking a long breath put her mouth on Cindy's dead pussy and licked it and licked it and licked it and licked it and kissed it and licked it until at long last Ralph had had enough. Bryll threw up. Ralph laughed. Lick that all up, Ralph said, and Bryll did. 7 I'm giving a dinner party tonight, Ralph said. For a group of the boys from out of town. About thirty or so. It's a bachelor party, of sorts. I want you to be my hostess, Bryll. All right, Bryll said. How formal is it? What do you want me to wear? High heels, Ralph said. Black high-heeled shoes. All right. And what else? That's all, Ralph said. Oh, Bryll said. At the time Bryll was hanging by her wrists from a hook in the ceiling of their living room, the tips of her toes just barely touching the floor. Ralph was walking around her, swinging a long thin whippy cane through the air. Ralph now paused, standing slightly to one side of her, raising the cane to tap its springy tip lightly against Bryll's high, outthrusting right breast. You don't have any objection to that plan, do you, Bryll darling? Ralph said. No, Ralph, Bryll said. No, I have no objection. Good, Ralph said. Tapping the cane against her nipple. Tap. Tap. Tap. I'm glad to hear that, Bryll. Because if you did, then I would have to do this. Ralph's arm swung back. Bryll closed her eyes. A loud grunt from Ralph. A sharp whistling sound. A vicious crack of wood against flesh. And a terrible shrill ear-shattering agony-filled scream. Bryll's legs kicking spasmodically beneath her twisting writhing body as the blow knocked her forcibly off her toes, putting the whole flailing, swinging, squirming weight of that body on her rope- bound and abraded wrists. 8 It was Christmas eve. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, and so was Bryll. Hanging by her wrists, body taut and straining, breasts pulled up, skin tight, in front of the roaring fireplace, with her legs spread wide and pulled to either side of the hearth. Hanging that way as the fire burned happily, singeing her backside. Bryll was gagged now, as Ralph and Donald had grown tired of her moaning and pleading, and were most content just to look at her, watching happily as she hung helplessly, unable even to writhe very much, just enough to amuse the two of them, and whoever else they might bring in. We can take the gag off again later, Ralph said. If you wish to hear Bryll scream, which I know you will enjoy. Thanks, buddy, Donald said. Just look at that! I'm so hard I could screw Santa Claus. You can screw Bryll instead, Ralph said. All you want. I know, Donald said. I know I can. And I will, buddy. You can be fucking damn sure of that. I will. But just look at her now. Christ. Look at her eyes! I know, Ralph said. He moved close to Bryll, looking into her eyes. Bryll darling, he said softly. How you must be suffering. Ralph raised his hands and put them on her breasts. Bryll shook her head. Hopelessly, reflexively, knowing it wouldn't stop him. Ralph smiled. And squeezed. Hard. As hard as he could. Bryll's taut body went tauter. Ralph did not stop. Bryll whinnied behind her gag. The ropes creaked. Ralph did not stop. Donald was watching and grinning and almost panting. Look at that body, Donald said softly. Look at how her thighs bunch up. Look at her head moving. Listen to that sound, god, I can't stand it. Build up the fire, Ralph said. When her back starts to blister, you can fuck her. Can't he, Bryll? Bryll nodded, mewling. Merry fucking Christmas, Ralph said. 9 Bryll was crying. But not for herself this time. She was crying for Trisha, who was lying on the floor on her stomach and moaning around Ralph's cock. Trisha's hands were tied tightly behind her back, and her remarkably curvy legs were spread apart, with each ankle bound to a ring in the floor. Ralph was sitting on the floor with Trisha's head in his lap, his hands clutching her curly dark hair, holding it still, with his hard cock deep inside her sobbing mouth. Trisha was young, a high-school senior who Ralph was breaking in for his family. Trisha's skin was a deep cocoa color, smooth and silky and brown. Bryll was crouching on the floor between Trisha's straining thighs, and at Ralph's instructions was burning the girl's thigh with cigarettes. Packs of cigarettes lay around her within easy reach, and discarded crumpled cigarettes lay in a pile nearby. There was a line of burn marks along the back of Trisha's right thigh, a straight, almost continuous line. Bryll had a cigarette in her right hand, burning slowly. She was holding it above Trisha's thigh and waiting for Ralph's command as she was crying in sympathy with the moaning, crying, writhing agony-filled young girl in front of her. Now, Bryll, Ralph said. Bryll heard Trisha trying to mewl, trying to beg, trying to cry out in panic at the anticipation of what was coming; saw Ralph's hands tighten in the girl's hair as Trisha automatically reflexively attempted to pull her head away; saw Trisha's body tighten and begin to tremble. But Bryll must not disobey. Her hand moved down. Slowly this time, Ralph said, grinning, holding Trisha's hair, and Bryll made contact with the shaking brown flesh and slowly, slowly, twistingly, agonizingly, pressed the cigarette into it, ground it in, mashed it in, turning it, grinding it out, grinding it to extinction in that soft tender thigh, as Trisha went wild, twisting and squirming and arching and bucking hopelessly, helplessly, writhing and spasming in pain, and now screaming, screaming, again screaming, around Ralph's cock, screaming muffled by that big cock all the way inside her twisting mouth but loud and fierce and terrible. Bryll was crying. Yes, Ralph said. Yes, darling, yes, that hurts, doesn't it, Trisha? Hmmmmm? It hurts so bad, it makes you want to be a good girl from now on, doesn't it, Trisha? It makes you want to do what we tell you from now on. I certainly hope it does that, Trisha. Bryll? Ralph said. And Bryll hastily, hearing the note of warning in his voice, got out another cigarette and put it in her mouth and lit it up. Always be ready. At the striking of the match Trisha gave a stifled cry, still half-screaming, still moaning and sobbing, and Ralph said suck me, darling, and let go of Trisha's hair, and Trisha did, crying, moaning, her mouth tight around him, her head bobbing vigorously. Good girl, Ralph said. You're learning. Sweet-mouth nigger gal. I'll have Bryll whip you tonight. And Bryll was still crying. 10 But it was not Bryll whipping Trisha that night. Bryll's arm was not strong enough to suit Ralph, and so he hung Bryll up by her hair to watch Trisha's whipping at the much more powerful hands of Bruno Montera. It was difficult for Bryll to concentrate on Trisha's pain through the almost unsupportable fact of her own desperate agony. Ralph said he couldn't wait to see if Bryll's hair was ripped right out of her scalp, and Bryll thought that was just what was about to happen every moment. Hanging with her hands bound behind her, her feet unbound but off the floor, swaying slightly in the air, scalp on fire, Bryll could do nothing but try to stay as still as possible, in spite of the unbearable pain and horror, hang as still as she could, dangling by her hair, moaning and whimpering uncontrollably, but trying hard not to scream, as even that might set her body moving, which might rip her scalp from her skull. Trisha, stark naked now, hung by her wrists, also swinging, but moving considerably more under the steady bite of the whip that Bruno was using on her. Her sensuous chocolate-brown body was pulled taut, her skin silky and tight over her curves and hollows. Her round young breasts thrust out, the position of her arms raising them so that their whole surface was deliciously and vulnerably exposed. But for now Bruno was working on her back. That sinuous body twisted and squirmed, arching, bucking, kicking, flailing frantically, as Trisha screamed out her agony. Bruno swung his arm steadily. Swish....CRACK! the whip went, singing through the air and landing with vicious power on the suffering flesh. Swish.....CRACK! Trisha screamed and plunged, screamed and tried to beg, screamed and went almost out of her mind, as Ralph watched, laughing. Swiiiishhhhh....CRRRRAAAACCKKK!! All right, Ralph said over Trisha's gasping groaning sobs and Bryll's moaning whimpers. Start on her front now. Trisha screamed loudly. Ralph grinned. No, Trisha? You don't want that, you stupid little nigger gal? That's what you are, isn't it, Trish baby? A little nigger gal. Isn't it? Say it, Trish. Tell me what you are. Ohhh god...Trisha gasped weakly. Bruno, Ralph said. Bruno moved around Trisha and raised his arm. Trisha said: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO PLEASE PLEEEEEAAAAASE JESUS GOD NOOOOOO.... Ralph grinned. SWIIIIISSSHHHHH....CRRRRaaaaaaaccccckkkkk!!! Across the tender helpless bottom curves of Trisha's breasts. Howling, plunging, creaking of rope, wild frantic kicking of legs, animal whinnying, bloody wrists, babbling bubbling choking incoherent pleas for mercy... Again, Ralph said. Harder. GAAAAAAA.... SWIIISHHHHHH......CRRRRAAAACCCCKKKKKKK!!!!! Right across Trisha's hard quivery pink nipples. And Bryll almost forgot her own pain in the spectacle of Trisha going crazy, her shrieks nearly bursting Bryll's eardrums. And now swish....crack! again, and a long wait for Trisha to settle down, Trisha finally swinging slightly, turning back and forth, sagging, groaning, her body a straight line of exhaustion and agony. Say it, Trish, Ralph said. Tell us all what you are. Go on. A mumble from Trisha. A sob. We can't hear you, Ralph said. Bruno. A moan of animal terror. Noooo...I...I'm...I'm a nigger gal... Again, Ralph said. Louder. I...I'm a nigger gal. A nigger slave, Ralph said. A--a nigger slave, Trisha sobbed. A filthy crawling cock-sucking nigger slave gal, Ralph said. I--please--- Bruno, Ralph said. NOOO! Bruno swung. Swish....crack! Wait. Horror. Chaos. Wait. I--I--I'm a...a filthy...crawling...cock-sucking...nigger...slave.... That's right, Ralph said. And I'm going to fuck the shit out of you, you sweet-mouth hurting little nigger. I'm going to fuck you while you hang there, and if you don't give me a damn good fuck I'll have Bruno whip your back while I'm doing it, just to put some life into you. And he did, and Trisha, to avoid more of the whip, curled her legs around his body and crushed herself against him and fucked him back as hard as she could, screaming out at his command how she was a filthy nigger slave gal... And Bruno, having nothing to do, moved behind Bryll and pulled up her legs and brutally, forcibly, mercilessly fucked her in the ass, ramming his cock up her anus, pulling at her thighs and fucking away at her as she still hung by her hair, his hands reaching around to her breasts and clamping them tight, tight, squeezing them and holding on to them as his hips moved rhythmically, all of it making Bryll nearly lose consciousness, but not quite, not quite, pain, agony, torment, horror, anguish, insupportable torture ripping, ripping through her scalp, her breasts, her anus, and her entire body and mind and soul, making her howl as loudly as Trisha was still howling, until two laughing men came into two helplessly writhing bodies, and two girls were finally cut down to crawl across the floor and forced to make reluctant, exhausted, agony-filled love to each other until the watching, grinning men got hard again.... 11 This girl wants to suck your cock, Ralph said. Dryfus blinked. What? I said this girl wants to suck your cock, Ralph said. Is that so hard to understand? Dryfus was looking at Trisha, who was crying. I don't think she does, Dryfus said. Trisha, Ralph said, tell him. I-- Trisha said. I...I want to...suck your cock. Crying. What is this? Dryfus said. Don't you like her? Ralph said. Shit--I mean, Christ...I mean... Don't you think this girl is good-looking? Ralph said. God, yes, Dryfus said. Even though she is a nigger, Ralph said. I don't care about that, Dryfus said. You should though, Ralph said. You can't go around not caring about people being niggers. Niggers are shit. Isn't that right, Trisha? Yes, Trisha said. Tell us, Ralph said. Niggers are shit, Trisha said, crying. I am shit. Go on, Ralph said. I am a cocksucking crawling filthy nigger slut whore cunt bitch slave, Trisha said, crying. What is this, Dryfus said. Do you want to hit her? Ralph said. Will that make you hot to have her suck your cock? Slap her across the face, hard as you can? Backwards and forwards? Again and again? Until she is screaming? Will that turn you on, Dryfus? Or would you rather strip her, or have her strip for you, and hang her up by her wrists and whip her and put out your cigarettes on her nipples? And watch her going crazy and twisting and squrming and kicking and bucking and thrashing and writhing in pain and agony, and listen to her screaming and howling and yelling and shrieking and begging and pleading and moaning and groaning and crying and sobbing and whimpering and whinnying and mewling and gasping and babbling in agony and horror? Is that what will turn you on, Dryfus? Then can she suck your cock for you? Or what. A black girl sucking my cock, Dryfus said. A black girl on her knees with her mouth around my dick. Hey, black girl, Dryfus said. And now he slapped her across the face, as hard as he could. Hey black cunt girl, you want to suck my cock, huh? Trisha said, yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. I do. Yes. Please. Please. On your knees, black girl, Dryfus said. On your knees, nigger, Ralph said. Show us your tits, Trisha nigger gal. Trisha sobbing gasping moaning shaking took off her blouse. She had no bra. Dryfus slapped her breasts hard. Back and forth. Trisha screamed. Dryfus took out his cock. Okay, black girl, okay, but you better do it good, and I mean good, and I want you to suck it slowly, very slowly, lovingly, using your tongue and your lips and your throat and your tits too, and he slapped her breasts again back and forth. Now. And Trisha sobbing and gasping and whimpering took his cock in her mouth and slowly slowly slowly did what he wanted and Dryfus was moaning and grinning and twisting and saying Shit shit shit this black bitch is such a good cocksucker, that mouth is just fabulous, yes bitch that tongue that's it that's it take all of it god slowly what a mouth what a girl. Ralph said, she can do it for hours, because if I start getting angry I will hang her up by her hair and whip her bloody. I love this bitch, Dryfus said, I love this black bitch, I want to buy her and use her fucking mouth forever. You want to buy this nigger? Ralph said. How much, Dryfus said. No! Trisha said, crying. And Ralph hung her up by her hair and whipped her for an hour straight, until she was begging Dryfus to buy her. How much? Dryfus said. Six million dollars, Ralph said. I can't afford that, Dryfus said. Okay, Ralph said, how about fifty cents? Sold, Dryfus said. And Trisha was crying and sobbing and sucking his cock. Slowly. Lovingly. Deliciously. Fantastically. Moaning and whimpering and mewling with agony and horror and sucking him slowly on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on.............