BDSM Library - Torture The Widow

Chapter 2 – Ask The Sergeant

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only. If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now. This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc. Copyright 2003

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It's surprising how much saliva and mucus I can produce when someone is gagging me by shoving his dick down my throat. I'd created a puddle on the towel that Denise had thoughtfully placed over Robbie's lap before he grabbed my head and forced me to bend over and take his cock in my mouth.

The others were watching me gag or choke then spit out a mouthful of the product of my salivary and mucus glands. It was dripping out my nose too. The General was staring at me, taking an occasional sip of Jameson's. You could tell he really got off on that kind of shit. Lois, always the dutiful wife, was stroking his trouser covered cock.

I wondered whether Robbie would blow his load before I choked to death. He'd force his pecker as far down my gullet as it would reach. Robbie was hung like a horse and I could feel my neck bulge every time he achieved maximum possible depth. I'd gag causing my scrapped raw throat to grip his cock. My stomach was doing flip-flops. Air would become scare after a while and I'd struggle to rise up and get a breath. Denise would help Robbie hold my head down as I kicked and thrashed about for air. Finally, they'd left me up and I'd take a loud deep breath then spit out a mouthful of saliva and snot. Tears were pouring down my cheeks causing my mascara to run. I was a fucking mess.

I had good reason to question my survival. The General had once shown me a video his Special Ops unit made when they were questioning some VC prisoners near Quang Tri, Vietnam. Two of the VC were women and that meant the GI's were going to have some fun with them.

On the rare occasions when the Donaldson's were on leave at the same time, the General liked to have everyone gather downstairs in his ‘play room' and watch torture and snuff videos. He'd acquired an enviable collection over his long career. A French general had provided some extraordinary films of Legionnaires using electricity on Algerian rebels. In Haiti, he managed to liberate an entire videocassette library of Papa Doc Duvalier's Tonton Macoutes working on enemies of the regime. There were some black and white classics from the Gestapo archives including the famous ones where the Wermacht officers who tried to assassinate Hitler were slowly strangled with piano wire. There were even a few grainy films from the USSR that a former KGB general had made in the Lubyanka. I never knew that being submerged in ice water could drive a person insane that quickly.

But the crown jewels of the General's archives were the ones he'd made personally. And the one that seemed particularly relevant to my predicament was where his unit snuffed the two VC cunts. I recalled how the girls were naked on their backs tied to tabletop. Their heads were hanging off the end of the table and someone had placed a belt strap on their foreheads to bend their heads back. You could see the strain in the ligaments of their neck.

The video had begun with a vicious gang rape by the eight GI's. The General was a Captain then but as the unit's commander, he went first. When he finished, he took out his K-bar and cut their nipples off as souvenirs. He probably still has them somewhere in his box of keepsakes.

After the girls were brutally raped, two Sergeants forced their mouths open and pulled all their teeth with a pair of dental pliers. I remember the loose bloody teeth scattered on the floor underneath the table. The snuff part consisted of Afro-American corporal shoving his long thick black cock in their throat. He'd keep it there until the last minute then withdraw. After this torture went on for a while, he just left it in until the girl expired. The odd part to me was that after the second girl was dead; the Corporal slowly fucked her throat until he blew his load. You don't often witness necrophilia. I'd sat there masturbating with the rest of the Donaldsons.

I didn't think the family would snuff me until after the funeral but you never know. My answer came quickly when I felt Robbie's cock jerk and sensed the familiar taste and smell of semen flooding my mouth. They held me down as he pumped his loads down my throat.

When they finally let me up, there were black spots in front of my eyes. Semen, saliva, mucus and stomach bile dripped from my nose and mouth. I fought for breath as Robbie pushed me off his lap tumbling me to the limousine's floor.

“Oh baby, you were fantastic,” said Denise to Robbie as she handed him a wet-wipe to clean his cock. I was lying there covered in my own secretions attempting to breathe normally.

“Ready to go inside, Gable dear,” said Lois?

“Not quite yet. Let's wait until everyone arrives then we make our entrance together,” said the General.

Generals, especially this one, are overly fond of showmanship and theatre. Having the whole family march in together with the General in the vanguard was exactly the kind of thing you'd expect from my father-in-law.

“Rozz, Trace emailed me those pictures of you making a whore out of yourself,” said the General.

“Yes, General,” was the only reply I made. What else was I going to say? They had me cold. I was thankful they had just one set of pictures. The Fourth of July party was only one of the dozen or so orgies that the doctors and nurses had organized while I was there. And that didn't include all the times; I'd been tumbled into an unoccupied bed for a quickie.

“I though you understood that sex was forbidden outside of the family,” said the General.

“I don't have any excuse.” That was the only type of reply that might keep me alive, no lies, and no excuses, admit your guilt like a soldier.

“You seem to enjoy what you and Lt. Colonel Rodney were doing,” said the General. The General was referring to the doctor who was in most of the photos with me. I'd screwed dozens of other soldiers during my tour. But Lt. Colonel Cecil Rodney, MD, 6'4” of hard muscled ebony perfection was the one that sensed I needed something extra. I'd lost count of the times, he ordered me to drop my fatigues and bend over his desk. Cecil usually began by setting my ass on fire with a thin whip-like bamboo cane. After my butt was covered with red stripes, he'd order me to hold my ass cheeks apart while he worked my anus open with the skilled hands of a board certified surgeon. Once my butt hole was opened up and yearning for his cock, he'd give it to me fast and hard while I stuffed a towel in my mouth to keep from screaming. We did some kinky shit, the doctor and I. My nipples still tingle when I recall him clamping them in a hemostat and using them as handles to drag me around the room at one of our ‘parties' forcing me to suck every cock and lick every pussy in the room.

“Yes, General.” Hell, he'd seen the photos. He could tell from the look on my face I was enjoying myself. What kind of girl doesn't enjoy a hard cock?

“Would you like to be fucked some more while we wait,” said the General?

“Whatever the General decides,” I replied. I knew I was going to wind up doing what he wanted anyway. Why fight it?

The General pushed a button on the limo's control panel and the partition between the driver and the passengers slowly descended. The General's driver, Master Sergeant Cordell Amesbury, had been with him for a number of years. He turned at the sound of the partition and looked expectantly in our direction. He glanced down toward the floor where I was lying with my skirt up around my waist.

I'd been forced to wear this slut costume by Mary Ellen. When I protested and said no way was I going to my husband's wake dressed like a hooker, Mary Ellen had stuck a 9MM H&K in my mouth and gave me the choices of dressing according to her directions or eating a bullet. I'd decided to go with the slut look.

The dress was an expensive St. John's knit and would have been appropriate except it was short enough to almost show my ass and tight enough to reveal every possible bump, nook, and cranny of my body. With no bra, my breasts and nipples were all but exposed.

A black lace garter belt held up my hose whose lace tops were visible when I stood upright. Seated, I was showing white thigh practically to my crotch. Mary Ellen adamantly refused to let me wear panties even though I begged her. A pair of spiky high heels, lots of make-up, and dangling earrings were my accessories. My appearance was more suited to selling my ass on a street corner in downtown Boston than attending my husband's funeral.

The Donaldson's were making a statement about their relationship with their daughter-in-law. They were informing the rest of the family I was a whore and a slut. I suppose it was true. However, the thought of being paraded around in front of the family that way was deeply humiliating.

“Rozz, ask the Sergeant to fuck you. But first show the Sergeant your pussy,” said the General.

Making me do the asking added to my humiliation. The General could easily have ordered the Sergeant to hop my bones but he wanted me to degrade myself. I turned around to face the Sergeant, hiked my skirt up even further and spread my legs so Sergeant Amesbury could view the goods before he took the plunge. I used my fingers to open my labia so he could get the full gynecological view.

“Sergeant Amesbury, come back here and fuck me,” I said knowing I had no alternative and might as well get it over with. I heard Mary Ellen whisper ‘what a pig slut' to Denise.

“I bet she fucks his brains out. Trace should never have married the whore, “ whispered Denise back.

“Yes, Ma'am,” replied the Sergeant who immediately existed the vehicle then opened a passenger door and stepped into the limo. The Sergeant knelt down on the limo floor in front of me.

“Well, Rozz, take the Sergeant's cock out and get busy,” ordered the General.

Chapter 3 – Whore On The Floor

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

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“Rozz, what a disgusting little bimbo you’ve become. An officer and a lady doesn’t behave that way,” said Denise digging into my rib cage with the pointed toes of her Ferragamo pumps.

“Poor Trace, it’s good he can’t see you now with your face covered in filth,” commented Mary Ellen taking a cue from her sister-in-law and pressing the heel of her Bally stiletto heel into the back of my hand. “He obviously made a huge mistake when he married you.”

I whimpered from the physical and emotional pain I was suffering. The Donaldsons excelled at a great number of things involving BDSM. One of their core competencies was humiliation and degradation. At the moment, they were acting as a well-trained unit focused on making me feel like a worthless piece of shit. Of course when you’re on your back with your face and hair covered in drying spit, snot, and cum, that’s not difficult. When I looked around, I could see that the entire family was enjoying my situation.

The Donaldsons were seated on both sides of the limo smiling down at me. Mary Ellen, Denise, and Lois were sipping Dom Perignon from Waterford’s Chantilly flutes. I recognized the crystal pattern because Trace and I had service for eight, a wedding gift from a Saudi prince the General had befriended. Robbie and the General were downing Jameson’s Reserve from matching crystal tumblers. I would have killed for a drink of hard liquor to numb my pain but keeping me on alert and on the edge was all part of their plan.

I was on the limo’s floor, face and hair covered in my own saliva and mucus, sucking Sergeant Amesbury’s black nuts while I stroked his hardening cock. Mascara and eyeliner was smeared down my cheeks. Robbie had made a point of using his thumb to smear my lipstick around my mouth before he face fucked me. I must have looked God-awful.

“As I recall Sergeant Amesbury, you enjoy ass play. Is that right, Sergeant?” asked the General deciding to make a game of it.

“Yes Sir,” responded the Sergeant.

“When was the last time you took a dump?” asked the General.

“Right before we left, Sir.”

“So your anal region may be a little stained,” said the General.

“That’s more than likely, Sir.”

“Would you like the Captain to clean your crack of any fecal material, Sergeant?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Captain, you heard the Sergeant, “ said the General.

We all have our preferences and licking fresh shit off someone’s asshole is low on my list of wants. However, if I refused, Mary Ellen just might take me somewhere and empty a clip in my body. Trace had told me she’d already killed one man, a fellow student who dumped her in high school.

“The poor bastard though he could play the four F’s with my sister,” said Trace referring to the ‘Find her, Feel her, Fuck her, and Forget her’ cliché. “He was a jock, took her out on the fifty yard line one night and busted her cherry.”

“And she was upset?” I asked surprised that Mary Ellen gave a damn about loosing her virginity.

‘Well, she had a thing for the guy, you know, first love and all, she was just a freshman,” said Trace.

“You sister felt scorned,” I said.

“Yep, especially after he told everyone how easy she’d put out and how much she loved to suck his dick and swallow his load.”

“And she got a away with it?”

“No one ever found the body. She fabricated an alibi that the police couldn’t shake. She took him into the woods and started by putting a Black Talon slug in his ankles, knees, elbows, and wrists,” said Trace.

Being a nurse, I can imagine the agony associated with having eight bone dense joints shredded by a bullet designed to break up on impact.

“Then she gave him a while to consider his sins, even making an audio recording of him screaming and begging her not to kill him.”

“Does she still have the tape?” I asked the question in order to confirm my worst suspicions about Mary Ellen.

“Probably, Mary Ellen liked to jerk off while she listens,” said Trace that night on our Hawaiian vacation when he’d gotten drunk out of his mind and ran his mouth.

“Mary Ellen finished the guy off with a set of antique skinning knives that were reputed to belong to Kit Carson, the legendary buffalo hunter. You should hear him scream when she took his nuts off one-by-one. That’s on the tape, too,” said Trace.

Knowing that my sister-in-law was capable of castration was not a comforting thought. That night in Maui, I was slowly sucking my very drunk husband’s cock as he recounted Mary Ellen’s tale of revenge.

“Afterwards, like the true soldier she planned to become, she buried him in a very deep foxhole. No one ever found the body. Mary Ellen says the secret is to bury them deep, six feet or more,” said Trace.

One thing I also learned was that Trace was a little afraid of his baby sister. He should have been. I started out to become a psychiatric nurse then switched to OR because the pay was better. But I know a psychotic when I see one. Trace also let out that she had killed all the family pets on multiple occasions and set the family mansion on fire after she got a low grade on a math quiz. Any normal human being ought to be scared shitless by Mary Ellen Donaldson, soon to receive her commission in the US Army.

Following orders, the Sergeant knee walked a one eighty and leaned forward so his butt was in my face. There was no point in pleading with the Donaldson’s. The prospect of watching their daughter-in-law degrade herself eating an enlisted man’s shit was too much of a turn on.

I put a hand on each of his butt cheeks and widened his crack. There was a wide brown streak on each side and a good size dollop on his asshole. Sergeant Amesbury’s crack hadn’t been visited by toilet paper after his most recent defecation and that was no doubt a deliberate act. When my nose was six inches away, the strong aroma of fresh shit filled my nostrils. I breathed outward to clear my nostrils and dove face forward into that musky crevice. My nose, lips, and tongue immediately came in contact with a thick coating of shit. It had been a put up job. The General had worked everything out with the Sergeant before we left. Eat it or die I told myself.

“Make sure there’s a good layer of shit for the cunt to eat,” was how he probably expressed himself to his driver.

I didn’t have a choice. I started on the high end of his crack and licked downward, swallowing whatever gathered on my tongue.

“Shit eater, shit eater, Roz is a shit eater,” sang Denise in a singsong little girl’s voice. She was becoming intoxicated. Robbie was already half blown away. This was going to be some night. There wasn’t too much on this earth that a drunken Robbie and Denise weren’t up for.

“Trace told me he made her drink her own piss the night he met her,” said Mary Ellen.

“Eating feces comes natural to some women, like dogs,” added Lois in one of those inane indecipherable remarks that I never managed to fathom. Sometimes I think my mother-in-law checked her sanity when she married into the Donaldsons.

It took several minutes for me to ingest the layer of shit surrounding the Sergeant’s anus. My stomach did a couple of flip-flops but I kept it down. After he was reasonably clean, I tongue fucked his anus while I reached between his legs to stroke his hardening meat pole. Sergeant Amesbury was well endowed and ordinarily the anticipation of taking his meat rocket in my manholes would have gotten me excited but I was distracted by the possibility that I might not survive the evening.

“She looks like she’s been eating brown gravy with a crooked spoon,” announced Denise when I’d finished and the Sergeant turned around. His shit was smeared all over my nose and cheeks.

He tumbled me on my back placed my ankles on his shoulders, positioned his cock head at my opening and drove it home in one swift downward plunge. No woman’s cunt can take that kind of all at once intrusion painlessly especially when the intruder is the large economy size.

I yelped as I felt a searing pain travel down to my cervix, hit a wall of flesh and bounce off. The Sergeant must have been briefed that causing me pain would get him a three day pass. He rammed his groin against my pubis as if he were trying to sink a nail in an oak board. I groaned in agony each time he reached bottom. To add to fun, he tugged up my knit dress, took my nipples in his giant hands and proved that he could lift me off the floor solely by pulling them upward. I screamed in pain as my breasts caught on fire. He pounded away until I heard the General speak.

“Finish in her ass, Sergeant,” said the General.

Mary Ellen helped the Sergeant turn me over by the simple act of inserting her fingers in my nostrils and twisting. I thought she was going to rip my nose off or at the least break some of its delicate bones.

I heard and felt the Sergeant hawk a gob of spit on my anus. Five seconds later, I put my fist in my mouth to muffle my screams as the Sergeant split my rectum open and sunk it home to the point I felt his balls smack into my labia. The Sergeant reached forward, grabbed my hair in his hands, pulling my head back to where I thought my neck would break. I could feel some of my hair tearing free from my scalp. Thank God, the Sergeant didn’t last long. He announced his climax with a scalp tug that almost left me bald.

The Sergeant slowly disengaged, straightened his clothes and returned to the driver’s seat. The General closed the partition. I was on the floor breathing heavily and hurting in a dozen places. I didn’t know how much more I could take.

I heard another whirring sound and looked up to see the sunroof panel sliding back.

“Stand up,” ordered Mary Ellen.

I wearily climbed to my feet. When I stood up, I was looking out over the limo roof. There was a crowd of people entering the funeral home.

“Tell her to clean up. She can’t go inside with shit on her face,” said the General from below. “She’ll smell up the place.”

“Powder your nose, dear,” said Lois passing up my purse and a handful of wet wipes.

I used the wet wipes to clean the shit and dirt off my face. I was combing my hair when I felt my dress being raised. I started to lower myself to see what was happening but Mary Ellen barked out for me not to move. I felt a leather belt being tightened around my naked waist as I flipped open a lighted compact mirror and started brushing my hair in place.

“Spread them and don’t move,” ordered Mary Ellen.

I couldn’t see what was happening below but I felt something slippery ease past my sphincter and go on a long journey that ended deep in my colon. Whatever it was it was thick but flexible because it traveled along my lower GI track like it was on a search-and-destroy mission. It left a dull ache somewhere above my belly button. As a nurse, I’d threaded tubes down patient’s throats and up their assholes. This dildo was inside my small intestine knocking on the door to my stomach.

“I’m surprised that didn’t come out her mouth,” was Denise’s comment from below.

“Hold it in while I do the other one,” said Mary Ellen.

I could feel Denise’s hand in the crack of my ass keeping my muscles from involuntarily expelling the unwelcome intruder. Another hand parted my labia and I felt another well-lubricated dildo that seemed far too wide for my pussy cram itself in the opening.

“Don’t move, Rozz, you are about to get the thrill of a lifetime,” said Mary Ellen.

Mary Ellen started to push. The proverb about ten pounds of shit in a two pound bag leaped into my mind as my vagina was wedged open. Mary Ellen was pushing so hard she almost lifted me straight off the ground. At first the dildo only moved an inch or so. It hurt so bad I put my Coach handbag in my mouth and bit down on it.

“It’s not going to go. I told you it was too big,” said my mother-in-law.

“Yes, it will,” said a breathless Mary Ellen. Fortunately, the dildo began to move again. Inch by inch it traveled inward forcing out the walls of my cunt. Later that night, when I saw the girth of what Mary Ellen forced inside me, I almost fainted. It was the size of salami.

I was trembling and sweating by the time I heard Mary Ellen announce the Eagle had landed.

“There, nice and snug,” commented Mary Ellen.

“I bet she walks bow-legged,” said Denise.

“Rozz was never a graceful girl,” added Lois.

“She likes having big dildo rammed in her holes. Trace said she was the biggest pain slut he ever met. He used to dildo fuck her ass for hours. He married her because he thought she was such a hot piece of ass. What he didn’t realize was that she’d fuck anything with a pecker,” said Robbie.

“This will hold them in place,” said Mary Ellen. I felt her attaching a narrow leather strap to the back of the belt, hooking it through an eyelet on the top of my anal dildo, then the same with the dildo in my pussy. She completed her circuit by attaching the end of the strap to the front of the belt then tightening it to where I was in acute pain from the force of the strap running down my ass crack and surfacing right at my navel. My clit was uncomfortably trapped under the leather strap. There was no way those dildos were coming out until someone detached that strap. I took deep breaths trying to control the pain.

“That’s right, Rozz, breathe into the pain and don’t whimper. The General hates whimpering,” said Denise. “So be quiet and still during Trace’s eulogies.”

At that moment I understood that I was going to Trace’s wake with a pair of dildo’s inside my cavities. However, they weren’t done.

“Now for the catheter, we can’t have you pissing yourself during your husband’s wake,” said Denise.

I felt a sharp pain as Denise guided the narrow tube into my urethra. In a hospital, a nurse would never catheterize a patient that wasn’t sedated. It’s dreadfully painful to feel that tube progress through your piss pipe to your bladder. I hoped that Denise knew what she was doing. If you feed in too much tube, you can puncture the bladder and the patient dies of infection. I clinched my teeth and prayed as the tubing wound its way to my bladder and stopped. Next I felt a plastic pouch being connected to the catheter and then fastened to my waist belt. I felt my labia being stretched out. When I looked down I saw that Denise had my labia fully parted.

“Be real still Rozz, this is going to pinch,” said Mary Ellen.

I saw that Mary Ellen was holding a Purple Heart in one hand. I watched in terror as she forced the pin on the back of the medal through my labia. That hurt like all hell. Mary Ellen screwed the back on the other side of the lip while once again I chewed on my purse to keep from screaming.

“Here’s Trace’s other Purple Heart,” said Denise.

That brought about another moment of exquisite agony.

“And his Kosovo Peace Keepers NATO medal,” said Mary Ellen.

My God they were pinning my dead husband’s medals to my pussy lips.

“And this is the Bronze Star he won in Nasarif,” said Denise.

My cunt was on fire. I felt dizzy. I wanted to reach down and rip Trace’s medals from my labia.

“Have you two finished fucking around? We need to get inside,” said the General.

“Yes, except for a couple of pictures. Spread your legs wider, Rozz and smile,” said Denise.

That’s pretty clever, General,” said Robbie. “It also looked damn painful.”

“Yea, I suppose so,” said the General. “Rozz’s got some serious pussy lips on her. Did I ever tell you about the female VC Major we caught in Sixth Corps? She had these loose, saggy pussy lips like she’d fucked every VC from Uncle Ho down. It was right after I arrived for my second tour. I was assigned to MACV, working with General Diem. He liked to perform his own interrogations. Problem was, the Major was a tough bitch and hadn’t said a word. General Diem used a soldering gun to slowly burn her pussy lips off. Took those suckers right down to the surface without a drop of blood. She screeched like a banshee. Smelled like somebody had burnt the Thanksgiving Turkey to a crisp.”

“Did she talk?” asked Robbie.

“Yes, after he burnt her clit off. Waste of time though, we already knew what she told us. General Diem shot the screaming bitch in her pussy hole. Rammed the barrel of an AR-15 in as far as he could shove it and unloaded a full clip General Diem was a creative bastard. You girls finish making those photos and let’s get inside.”

I stood there while several automatic flashes fired. When I bent over to look, there were four medals pinned to each side of my labia major. There were drops of blood on my thighs. The plastic bag was hanging there waiting for me to fill it. The pain of the dildo’s and medals was all I could think about.

Mary Ellen squeezed up through the sunroof beside me. She placed a wide leather collar around my neck and buckled it. I could barely bend my head.

“Ready, General,” said Mary Ellen fastening one end of a leash to the collar. I wanted to die from the pain and humiliation. I was walking into my husband’s wake dressed like a whore, stuffed with dildos, and being led on a leash by my sister-in-law. There was a catch bag hanging below the hem of my skirt. Trace’s medals were pinned to my cunt and would show when I sat down.

“Let’s go. It’s time to bury my son,” said the General wearily.

Chapter 4 – Whip Her Bloody

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

I felt a wave of sexual pleasure as I stepped out of the limo. Given my circumstances, that was the last thing I should be sensing. There are all kinds of people in this world and I was one of those rare statistical anomalies that are turned on by pain and humiliation. I was so far at the outer edge of the bell shaped curve I could get rained on.

Somewhere in my brain there was a miss-wired synapse. It turned pain into pleasure and humiliation and degradation into joy.

Most people would consider me a sick human being in need of multiple sessions on an analyst's couch and a Prozac prescription. But they were wrong. I was getting what I needed and the fact that the super sized dildo in my cunt was starting to squish around on all the lube my Bartholin glands were secreting said it all. I was in serious pain, on the verge of being degraded and humiliated on a scale few would ever experience; and my irrational self loved it. Even thought my rational mind said I should scream for help and attempt to run away.

Mary Ellen was leading me on a short leash into Trace's wake. I was wearing a ridiculously short dress with a piss bag hanging below the hem for all to see. All in this case would be the fifty or so of the extended Donaldson family and close friends that were invited.

My halting wide-legged walk would tip them off that I was wearing dildos in my cunt and ass. In spite of the discomfort from having eight of my dead husband's service medals pinned to my labia, I was emotionally transforming negatives to positives.

The step down and out of the limo caused the foreign objects in my body cavities to ache and the medals scraped painfully against my vagina. I took a deep breath and told myself that the pain was pleasure and the upcoming exhibition of my status was my own personal heroin.

Sergeant Amesbury stood at attention holding the limo door. He was looking at me with a nasty smirk on his face. Why not, his jism was deep inside my asshole. Even though I grabbed a swallow of Robbie's whisky before I stepped out, there was still the taste of the Sergeant's shit lurking in the back of my throat.

“Pretty poor piece of ass wouldn't you say, Sergeant,” said Robbie as I stepped on the payment.

“Yes sir, fucks like a tired old street whore,” replied the Sergeant.

I ignored the Sergeant's remark as I walked straddled legged toward the entrance to the funeral home. The dildo in my cunt was causing me to walk slowly with my legs spread apart. Mary Ellen jerked the leash a few times to speed me up.

“I hope you haven't forgotten any of the family,” said Denise. “If you have, we'll have to have a retraining session when we get home.”

My mind immediately began to recall the faces, names, and relationships of the extended Donaldson family. Learning to identify the Donaldsons had been my introduction to their bizarre world. It had been anything but pleasant.

After Trace and I got engaged, he invited me home to meet his family. For a girl who grew up in a three-decker in Winthrop, Massachusetts, the very idea of staying at the Donaldson's estate in Weston, MA was a thrill. Weston was known as the wealthiest town in the Commonwealth. On four-day leave, I'd flown into Boston's Logan Airport late Thursday night.

There was to be a family dinner Friday night and an engagement party at the Weston Country Club Saturday night. Trace met me at the airport. My plane was very late and I got in after midnight. When we got to the Donaldsons, everyone had gone to bed. The estate was huge and surrounded by a stonewall that must have been twelve foot high. I was a little surprised that the family hadn't objected to our sleeping together. That should have tipped me off I wasn't meeting people with traditional family values.

Trace took me to his room and made me slowly strip for him. Someone had given us a new camcorder for an anniversary present and he made a DVD of me dancing around the room to the tune of Boogie Nights while I slipped a dildo he bought me in and out of my cunt and ass. He'd also bought a huge black one that had a suction cup on one end. He managed to stick that to the center of a straight char so he could take close-ups of me raising and lowering myself on that column of chocolate-colored latex. We hadn't been together in weeks so I was both horny and enthusiastic as I did squats to drive it deep in my pussy.

Trace kept recording while I sucked his cock and took a full load of his jism on my tongue before I swallowed it. After that he put a pair of clamps on my nipples and made me jerk myself off while he kept filming. Trace encouraged me to talk dirty as I fingered my clit telling him what a pig whore I was and how much I loved it when he fucked my ass and pissed in my mouth. It was normal loving couple talk.

After he strapped a penis gag in my mouth to keep me quiet, he pulled the clamps off. I don't mean he released the tension first. He just yanked them off practically taking the end of my nipples with them. The agonizing pain in my breasts created such an incredible rush my climax felt like a bunker buster bomb had gone off inside my cunt. I let loose a long muffled scream into the gag as my clit hammered out a tune to my brain using a kettledrum for an instrument. A good five minutes later it all ended with Little Rozz covered in sweat and dripping girl lube down her thighs. I lay there thinking its good to be a whore as Trace licked my thighs. Swallowing pussy oil was one of his things.

It was nearly two in the morning when we finished. I was a happy and satisfied bride-to-be. I curled up in Trace's arms and fell asleep.

You always assume that people are not into BDSM until you find out different. I'd certainly assumed that Trace's parents were straight arrows. After all, he was a general officer in the US Army and that's not the type you usually associate with the world of S&M.

Trace and I had pretty much played only with each other since we met; not that we had been together that much. There'd been one exception. On one of his visits to Fort Campbell, we'd gone out with a friend of Trace's, Major William Gooding and his wife, Doris. Bill Gooding was a tall good-looking career officer, graduate of West Point, and supposedly destined for a general's star when his time came. Doris was a Southern bell, cheerleader at Old Miss where she majored in communications. She was blonde, skinny, and certainly looked the part of a future general's life. You could picture her hosting teas at the officer's clubs for the other wives.

Surprise, they turned out to be in the lifestyle and after dinner at the Officer's Club, Doris and I had the shit whipped out of us in the basement of Major Gooding's off base housing.

I hadn't guessed that the Goodings were anything but vanilla until we got to their place. Trace and Bill took Doris and I down to the basement, made us strip naked, and perform cunnilingus on each other while they drank another beer. Then they shackled us to a pair of St. Andrew's crosses. To make things interesting, they agreed that Bill was going to work on me while Trace entertained Doris. Variety is the spice of life.

Bill was into hot wax; that was something new to Trace and me. He grabbed my nipples with hemostats and stretched them out until you could practically see through my flesh. I screamed for him to stop before he ripped them off.

“Trace, your bride's a screamer, listen to this,” said Bill as he took my nipples through a one eighty.

“Rozz loves pain. The more she hollers, the hotter she gets,” said Trace.

Trace was imitating Bill and Doris was emitting loud ear splitting shrieks with a Southern accent. Her involuntary vocalizing confirmed my husband-to-be was a talented sadist second to none.

“Yea, she's a pain slut,” said Bill who had stuck a finger in my vagina to check my oil. My Bartholin glands were going full out.

Bill was one of those sadists whose whole face lighted up and cock hardened when his victim opens wide and bellows in pain. I was screaming and begging him to stop the awful things he was doing to my boobs.

Bill lighted a tall beeswax taper and allowed it to slowly drip on my over stretched nipples. You could almost hear it sizzle when it landed on my paper-thin tissue. I was surprised it didn't burn through and drop to the floor. My pain centers flashed agony in bright red letters and my mouth opened to let out a long plaintive scream. In a matter of seconds, I was pleading with Bill as I watched him slowly tilt the candle toward my other nipple. He was a merciless bastard who worked with an agonizing slowness. I would have sworn it took a full minute for him to turn his wrist. I watched the clear bee poop slowly trickle toward the wick until gravity took over and a half dozen drops touched down. It takes a few seconds for the pain of a burn to gather its energy and signal to your nerve endings that something very serious has happened. I took in deep breaths thinking I could control the pain. On my exhale, the nerve endings sounded the alarm. My exhale ended in a chortled scream. My next inhale was dedicated to collecting enough breath to power my vocal chords through the full throated scream that my brain had decided was appropriate for a woman who had just suffered a serious burn on her breast tissue.

Bill worked on my tits until I thought I was going out of my mind. He applied more hemostats to my labia and clitoris. Trace was following Bill's example and dripping large splats of searing hot wax on Doris' breasts and pussy.

“Watch and learn,” said Bill as he angled a candle toward my armpit. Any well-trained nurse will tell you that a person's armpits are one of the very most sensitive parts of the body especially to a burn.

“No,” I yelled but I was too late. The wax landed right in the center of my armpit. I screamed as loud as humanly possible. To reward my performance, Bill took his time doing my other armpit. It was days before I could raise my arms above my shoulders.

After the guys tired of the wax torture, Bill unlocked a nearby cabinet and showed Trace his extensive collection of whips, canes, floggers, etc. Most of the whippings I'd received had been from the type of product you buy in an Adult Products store, overpriced and cheaply made. Bill's collection was on a different level entirely. I heard Bill answer Australia and Turkey when Trace asked about the country of origin of some of the whips.

They began with ridding crops that were actually used by jockey's who won one of the Triple Crown races. Military men have a sense of history. I got hot as a firecracker when Bill snapped the crop across my nipples causing a tidal wave of fiery pain to engulf the end of my breasts. I was pumping out girl lube by the time he landed the business end of the crop on my labia and clit. My pleasure centers climbed up to the top rung of the pain ladder and stayed there as the guys kept switching implements of torture. For a pain slut, there's nothing better than being whipped into a state of semi-consciousness. Your brain is controlled by your need to feel pain and each time the whip lands, that need is fed. I submerged my mind and body into the experience.

There was a point where Bill landed the barbed tip of a bull whip on my vagina that sent me into such a paroxysm of muscular contraction, it felt like I was about to break my own back. Doris was hysterical by this time screaming for Trace to stop but not shouting the safe word that would make him halt. You can always tell a true pain slut. We never shout the safe word. We just keep screaming and cumming hoping the agony never stops.

After I'd had almost every known type of whip used on my most tender and sensitive parts, our two warriors made us kneel down with our mouth open while they emptied their bladders of all the beer piss they'd been accumulating all evening. It was a dessert of degradation after a full meal of suffering. Doris and I were so thirsty we practically fought to see who got to swallow the most mellow yellow. Our guys must have pre-planned it and avoided the urinal because they just kept filling our maws, pausing so we could swallow then continuing the flow.

For the finale, the two dommes took their pleasure. The guys fucked us in both our holes. They kept switching between Doris and me calling us whores and sluts. Each of us was double penetrated and had to perform ass to mouth or ATM as Bill called it. It was the first time I'd ever sucked a cock that one second before had been up another girl's ass. Neither Doris nor myself had been cleaned out so I got to taste Doris's shit and she mine. It's definitely hardcore when a guy pulls his shit-covered dick out of a nasty asshole, grabs you by the hair and shoves it down your throat. You can't ignore the smell and taste of the gritty brown feces that covers his cockhead as it coats the lining of your throat.

Bill took some kind of diet supplement that he swore increased the volume and taste of his semen. I knelt there while Doris jacked him off onto my tongue. Since I was company, I got to take the host's load.

“Get it all before you swallow it bitch,” said Bill as he ejaculated. I felt a large gob hit the back of my throat and another flood onto my tongue. I waited patiently mouth open and tongue extended until he finished before I gulped it down. Doris used her long tongue to lick the insides of my mouth to savor her man's leftovers.

All I can say it was the most jism I'd ever taken in a single orgasm. And the taste was odd, almost medicinal. It definitely went way beyond the normal two tablespoons I'd experienced since I started giving blowjobs in the ninth grade.

It wasn't my first S&M group activity but it had certainly been the hottest. The four of us slept in the Gooding's king sized bed. The next morning I was so sore it took me half an hour to get out of bed. I could barely walk. Fortunately a nurse even one in training has access to painkillers. You can always steal them from a cancer patient.

Regardless of that experience, I expected that everybody at the Donaldson's would be on best behavior. I was in for a surprise.

I met the immediate family at breakfast. Everybody seemed so polite and glad to meet Trace's fiancé. Afterwards, my future mother-in-law took me shopping for most of the day. She spent a fortune on me, dresses, shoes, lingerie, etc. I lost count of how much she spent. She bought me an incredible Bill Blass evening gown for Saturday's engagement party. The dress cost about twenty times more than the most expensive dress I'd ever purchased on my own.

We had a formal dinner at nine. It was in the mansion's cherry paneled dining room that looked like it was copied from a French chateau. It was the General, Lois, Robbie, Denise, and Mary Ellen in addition to Trace and me. I was on cloud nine, dazzled by the wealth and prestige of Trace's family.

After dinner, we had drinks in the library. At some point, I recall Robbie speaking first.

“Dad, the servants are all gone. We can start now.”

“Good, let's head downstairs,” said the General.

Chapter 5 – Break Her

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

Say the word basement to me and I picture a dirty concrete floor, fuse box, hot water heater, furnace, and junk like in the home where I grew up. Dark and scary with spider webs, the kind of place you only go when you have to.

Of course, some couples convert their basements to play space. They clean up a little, purchase some indoor/outdoor carpet; bolt some two-by-fours for a St. Andrews (God forbid you whip your naked wife on one like Jesus Christ was crucified.), go to the hardware store for chains and S-hooks, and visit the local Adult Store for nipple clamps, spreader bars and a riding crop. Thus equipped you're ready to momentarily spice up what has become a very boring sex life.

If you have kids, you have to conceal this shit somehow. If a nosy neighbor asks why are those big hooks screwed into the overhead floor joists, you just reply, "Don't know, they were there when we bought the place."

But there are basements and then there is the Donaldson's. I had no idea why we were leaving the comfortable well-appointed library but I was the prospective daughter-in-law on my best behavior. I didn't ask any questions as the seven of us stood up, drinks in hand and followed the General down a hallway. He came to a heavy wooden door, pulled one of those laser inscribed keys out of his pocket and worked the tumbler. I recall wondering who locked their basement door. Normally, no one wants to go there. He reached in to flip on the light then stood back and let everyone enter and descend the stairs.

When Trace who was leading turned the light on, I wanted to exclaim, "wow, what a terrific media room/ home entertainment center". The Donaldson's basement, at least the part I was in, was damn nice, completely finished and paneled. There was a U shape of leather couches facing a fireplace. Over the fireplace was the largest flat panel television screen, I'd ever seen. I asked and was told that it was sixty-inch diagonal. Later I saw a similar one in an electronics store and learned it cost $20,000. Surround sound speakers were mounted in each corner.

Mary Ellen got busy igniting the gas fireplace while the General refreshed everyone's drink. I suppose one criticism you could make of the family was that they drank too much. The family drink was Jameson's Reserve with a single cube of ice. Being an eager to please daughter-in-law, I'd switched from my usual vodka martini and gone to brown whisky. Well I am part Irish.

The room was large and didn't look that old. I'd guess its dimensions as twenty feet wide and thirty feet deep. How nice and cozy I recall thinking as my future sister-in-law turned the gas up and flames warmed the room. Trace had gone over to a wall cabinet of electronics and opened the glass door. He took a DVD case out of his coat pocket and dropped it into the player. Trace came back to the couch and sat down beside me. He put one hand on my bare knee and I remember thinking not in front of your folks, I want them to think I'm a lady. Events were about to prove I was an idiot.

"What are we going to watch?" I asked innocent as all hell. Since there had been so much wedding talk, I guessed that we might watch a video of Robbie and Denise's wedding or pictures of Trace as a kid, boring family history that you burden a perspective new family member with.

"You'll see," said my beloved powering on the plasma monitor. As soon as it flickered to life, he pressed the Play button on the DVD remote. It took a few seconds but there I was skirt pulled up to my waist, shaking my thong covered ass to Boogie Nights and licking the tip of the dildo that Trace gave me the night before.

"What the hell," I yelled reaching desperately for the remote thinking my fiancé had either lost his mind or made a mistake playing last night's DVD instead of The Sound of Music.

"Relax," said Trace holding the remote control out of my reach. "We're all adults here."

"But," I said looking at that HDTV screen where I had just placed one leg on a straight chair moved my thong aside and slipped six inches of latex into my vagina. I had that good on my face that girls get when something nice first enters our pussy and we know there's more to come.

I scanned the room to gage the family's reaction to "Rozz, The Dildo Fucking Slut" but everyone was staring at the screen. I wanted to crawl under a rock. My future in-laws that I was trying so hard to impress would think I was absolute trailer trash.

"Calm down, dear, we've all gone through this," said Lois, Trace's mother, sensing my panic. Later, I wondered what Lois meant by that remark. Decade ago, had the General taken Lois to meet his parents and shown them a 16MM home movie of Lois sucking his cock and taking it up her ass? Possibly, military families are strong on tradition.

I wanted to ask, "Gone through what" but stayed quiet. On screen I had shed my blouse and bra and was holding my boobs up sucking and licking my own nipples. I danced forward and Trace's head came into view as he leaned forward to suck and pinch my nipples. After the nipple work, I danced back, turned my head profile to the camera and placed the pussy-glistening dildo in my mouth. I pushed on the base and drove that latex lover into my throat creating a bulge in my larynx that Trace's close-up captured for digital posterity.

"You lucky bastard, she can already deep throat," said Robbie, my future brother-in-law.

"It took me months to learn. I kept gagging. Now I'm a cock swallower par excellence," added Denise, his wife.

"Yea, you're as good as any whore in Seoul," said Robbie who was on leave from his unit in South Korea. The way he said it implied Denise was just okay in the deep throat department. And the way Robbie glanced at me said that I was going to have an opportunity to provide my own comparison to the working girls of Korea.

I was trying not to look stunned. Still, being asked to do a mental about face on the sexual practices of your future in-laws was straining my ability to process new and contradictory information. Lois, my future mother-in-law had impressed me as the model for a military wife. She dressed and acted the perfect lady. We had even gone for high tea at the Four Seasons hotel in downtown Boston that afternoon when we took a break from shopping. High tea can you believe it. I didn't even know there was such a thing anymore. She was the epitome of a general's wife, impeccably coiffured, dressed in an expensive St. John's knit suit, a woman who knew her place in life and was very comfortable in it.

Mary Ellen, the youngest, was their high-energy daughter, pretty, petite, and smart. She reminded me of one of those ingénues you see on the Disney channel. Robbie was the solid older brother, dedicated to the service of his country. Robbie had the General's military bearing and you could predict there was a general's star in his future. Denise had gone out of her way to welcome me to the family and see that I was comfortable. Like any mother she talked about her growing family detailing the accomplishments and failings of each child. Denise was very attractive in a cool blonde way. She had a great body that she attributed to her devotion to power yoga.

The General struck me as a model of moral rectitude. No nonsense, it's black or white type, devoted to his country, a man who considered leading men into battle mankind's highest calling.

To sum it up, the Donaldson's appeared to be a family that belonged on the cover of Saturday Evening Post with an American flag as a backdrop. But appearances are deceptive and the ultimate reality was that Bondage and Discipline magazine should have featured them as S&M family of the year.

We watched in silence as on screen I danced my way down to my birthday suit. I'm a decent dancer and I was horny for Trace when I got off the plane. Up on the big screen, I sat down on the edge of the bed with my legs spread. One moist hand was working my clit while the other was dildo fucking what was obviously a very wet snatch. Then with the dildo still in my cunt I turned over, butt to the camera and stuck a finger up my ass.

"Do you get wet easily, Rosalind?" said Lois in a matter-of-fact voice as if she'd asked me whether I like to cook.

"I hate dry pussy," said the General. "Lois used to get wet as Boston Harbor as soon as you said lets fuck but now she's dried up."

Lois looking embarrassed opened the top drawer of an end table and brought out a plastic bottle of Astro-Glide. She stood, hiked her knit skirt up, revealing she was wearing stay up hose and no panty. She quickly sat down throwing one leg over the couch arm, squeezed some lube on her fingers and applied it to her vagina. The fact that her two sons were in the room said everything there was to say about Donaldson familial relations. How many sons have seen their Mom oil up their snatch?

"Rozz can get wet just thinking about cock, can't you baby," said Trace his arm around my shoulder. I reminded myself it was a good thing he was bragging on his bride-to-be.

"Nature blessed me with overactive Bartholin glands," was my nurse-like reply. That was true. I created a large wet spot when I fucked, the kind that made it hard to find a dry part of the bed to sleep on after a good long screwing.

On screen, Trace brought the camcorder in for a close-up of me speaking to the camera.

"More sound," barked the General. Trace fiddled with the remotes.

"I want you to drop your load of hot creamy cum on my whore's tongue," spoke the on screen Rosalind in a seductive voice. She stuck out her tongue like a hooker does to get the John to pull over to the curb.

Sitting on the couch and watching the DVD, I recalled how horny I was last night. I resisted the urge to move Trace's hand from my knee to my crotch. My libido was starting to take over. I'd never actually watched myself on video. In my freshman year, I'd allowed this guy I was dating to take some nude shots of me but they were more glamour shots meaning I wasn't stuffing dildo's in my cunt. I was getting turned on watching myself perform on camera.

My body looked great. As soon as Trace and I got engaged, I enrolled in an off base fitness club that offered what they called the 'Buff Brides Seminar'. Diet and exercise were the order of the day. As part of the eighteen-week course, I got thee one-hour sessions each week with a personal trainer. The club assigned Slava as my personal trainer. Slava was a recent immigrant from the Ukraine with an H1-B work permit. He was training for the next Olympics. After an hour of close contact working on Nautilus machines and free weights, I found his body irresistible. I suggested that I visit Slava's apartment for some work on my pelvic thrusts. The man was a fucking machine. It was vanilla sex but great vanilla sex. I rationalized that since I hadn't said my wedding vowels yet, fidelity was not a requirement. After I walked down the aisle I planned to be faithful. Well, that was the plan. Anyway, I burned up more calories and fat cells riding Slava's cock outside the club than exercising with him inside. I was buff.

Movement caught my eye taking it away from the screen. I'd been so intent on watching the video that I missed Denise hauling Robbie's cock out of his pants. When I looked over, they both were watching the screen as she stroked his meat and he unbuttoned her blouse. Robbie freed a tit from her bra and a large boob became visible.

"I'm still swollen from nursing Joshua," said Denise looking around. Denise had told me she had just taken her youngest off the tit a week ago.

Her nipples had that big sloppy look women get when an infant is using them for a binky several hours a day.

"I like them that way," said Robbie leaning over to plant his mouth on the exposed boob. He captured the big spongy nipple between his teeth and stretched it outward. Denise kept a smile on her face but I could tell he was hurting her. When he stopped, there were teeth marks on her areola. I allowed my mind to fantasize that it was my knocker that he'd bit and I felt a reaction in my cunt.

"Then you can piss in my mouth to wash it down," spoke the screen Rosalind in a throaty voice.

"Trace said you like drinking pee," commented Mary Ellen as she hiked up her dress, shoved her thong aside and began stroking the little man in the boat.

"Yes, and you?" I said wondering exactly what were the family limits when it came to sex.

"Yes, you have to be if you're going to get through the Point. First week I was there, the upperclassmen take the female plebes into the restroom and use them for a urinal. You have to thank them after you drain their bladders," said Mary Ellen.

"Thank You Sir for allowing this scum maggot pledge to ingest your golden urine," shouted Mary Ellen in illustration. I decided that West Point must be more fun than I had envisioned.

On screen, the camera on its tripod captured me sucking Trace's cock.

"Suck me, you two worthless whores," barked the Genera startling me. That provoked an immediate reaction from Lois and Mary Ellen. They unzipped his trousers then lowered them. They extracted his semi-hard cock from his boxers. I had the opportunity to see what a general officer's cock looked like, pretty much the same as everybody else's.

I pushed out of my mind that there was a genuine case of multiple incest happening a few feet away. Mary Ellen, the dutiful daughter had slipped her dress and bra off and was kneeling on the floor in front of her dad, sharing dick-sucking duties with her mother who was leaning over in her husband's lap. Occasionally the two stopped for some very intense tongue kisses. I surmised that mother and daughter were close, very close.

Trace, Robbie and their dad were watching the homemade porn on the big screen. Trace had some talent for camera work. He'd done an excellent job of capturing my tongue covered with his spunk. There was a narrow stripe of jism running from my cheek, across my nose and into my eye. The camera showed me using a finger to push the face splatter into my mouth for the big swallow.

That was followed by Trace's filling my mouth with piss and me swallowing several large mouthfuls.

"You two whores aren't worth a shit, let's see what Rozz can do," snapped the General grabbing Lois and Mary Ellen by the hair and lifting them off his cock.

I glanced at Trace who had a "what are waiting for" look on his face. I stood up, reached back to unzip my dress, grabbed the hem of my skirt and pulled it over my head. The bra and panty were off in a split second. I placed my hands on the General's naked thighs as I knelt down. Lois and Mary Ellen had gotten him hard and from my vantage point had been performing a credible job of head. However, maybe he was just proving a point.

"Trace, Robbie, put your mother and Mary Ellen in the stocks and give them ten each," said the General. "She's been a pain in the ass lately."

"Please Earl, just five," said Lois.

"Since the bitch complained, make that twenty each, maybe later Rozz can teach you how to suck dick," said the General. "We need some new poontang in the family."

I filled my mouth with cock and went to work while behind me I heard the noise of furnishing being moved. Later, when I got a chance for a quick peek, I saw that two whipping stocks had been infolded out of the wall. Lois and Mary Ellen were down on all fours their heads and wrists threaded through the holes in the stocks. Robbie was busy selecting a cane and Trace was working a hand into his mother's cunt.

For all her verbal protests, Lois's body language said she loved to have her ass whipped. She was shifting her butt from side to side as Trace fingers stroked between her labia. He licked one finger and put a digit inside his Mom's anus. Mom moaned. Mary Ellen said something I couldn't here but it must have been a request for some of Trace's handball action because he quickly placed his other hand on Mary Ellen's rear and started massaging her sex.

I'd been in stocks before and it's hot as hell to have your cunt worked when you know the next step is a good ass whipping. You're helpless, wondering how bad it's going to be and then somebody parts those pussy lips and strokes you where it counts. Fingers work their way into your cunt and asshole so you're penetrated and violated by whoever's back there. Maybe it's the fact that you're aware that the moment's pleasure will be replaced by some serious pain and after that, a good fuck. A woman in a stock is truly helpless. She can't even see who is behind her. Her pussy and ass are completely vulnerable. At an S&M club in NYC, I'd put in some stock time and been whipped and fucked into unconsciousness. It was great.

Whoever designed the Donaldson's playroom was a genius. In its vanilla state, it looked like the comfortable home entertainment center of a Weston mansion. All the equipment and furnishings were hidden built-ins. Dark oak cabinets contained high quality implements for causing pain. Wall panels concealed fold out benches, stocks, and crosses. The ceiling contained sliding panels that hid chains, hooks and racks that could be used to suspend a slave. During my time with the Donaldsons, I got to know the capabilities of that room first hand.

My experience of home or even club dungeons was unpainted two by fours where utility not esthetics was the overriding concern. If a whipping bench was upholstered, it was vinyl with cheap brass upholstery tacks. Overall quality was at the level of a decent vocational high school. The Donaldson's furnishing looked like Ethan Allan was marketing an S&M line. Woods were solid, not veneers. Upholstery was either Italian leather or first quality French or Belgium chintz.

It shouldn't matter whether the St. Andrews Cross that you stretched on while someone is whipping the flesh off your tits is made from Second Grade lumber from Home Depot or hand shaped mahogany or cherry but somehow it does.

My original game plan for impressing the Donaldson's was to act like a smart, professional woman with an advanced nursing degree who could be counted on to function like the wife of a future high ranking military officer. My current revised plan as I dove my mouth down on to the General's cock was to convince him I gave terrific head.

I sucked my first dick when I was a ninth grader at Winthrop High School. I was invited to a friend's birthday party and we played a form of oral spin the bottle. There were no adults around. I won or lost the spin depending on how you look at it and had to spend ten minutes in the closet with Clarence Yates, a boy I thought was cute. As soon as the closet door shut, Clarence unzipped his pants, pushed me to my knees and placed his cock against my lips. Given that I had never even kissed Clarence or held hands, it was a little further than I was prepared to go.

"What are you waiting for? Open up," whispered an exasperated Clarence.

"What am I supposed to do?" I answered trying to buy some time. I knew what he wanted. I wasn't stupid just inexperienced.

"Suck it stupid," said Clarence.

"I don't think I should," I said. At thirteen I wasn't a total slut, at least not yet.

"Well fuck I'm leaving. I'm going to tell everybody you're frigid," said Clarence turning toward the door.

"Wait, I'll do it." Like any high school girl I wanted to be popular so I caved. After all he was only asking me to do something I knew I was going to do someday soon Giving blowjobs was a frequent topic of conversation among my girl friends and me. The fact that you couldn't get pregnant made it a no risk situation. Besides, doing what the boys wanted made a girl popular. I blew Clarence, tasted semen for the first time (not bad, not bad at all) got a quick kiss for my efforts and returned to the game when the kitchen timer sounded. Clarence showed he was a gentleman by complimenting me on my cocksucking in front of the others.

I made several more trips to the closet that night and even got a few pointers on technique from an older kid named David something. Over the years, I honed my oral skills, learned to swallow cock for a throat massage from my science teacher, Mr. Kellogg who had a long skinny dick he nicknamed the tonsil tickler, and in general became a first class cock-sucking whore. I was out to prove that to the General as I forced my head downward taking his cock past the opening of my throat.

"All the way to my nuts, bitch," said the general taking me by the ears and forcing me downward. As I've said before, humiliation and degradation are the fuel that strokes my libido. Somehow, I lucked out and found a family just as interested in degrading me as I was in being degraded. I looked up at the general to show him how much I was turned on by what he was doing.

"This one's a real slut, Trace," said the general.

"Use her daddy, face fuck her," said Trace.

Behind me I heard the sound of canes swishing through air. I suppose Trace and Robbie were taking some practice swings limbering up their arms. I heard a, "ready" followed by the swish, the sound one of those flexible cane makes when it lands on bare flesh followed by two loud screams. My mother-in-law was a full-throated screamer but Mary Ellen came out with more of a loud yelp.

"I didn't hear a one so we start over," said Robbie.

After the next impact, both females managed to scream out one. A glance sideways showed me the bottoms of two future female relatives with two bright red stripes across both buttocks. That got me going. Watching others getting whipped is the best aphrodisiac I know. Lois's larger fair skinned ass was in sharp contrast to her daughter's slim well-tanned buttocks.

"You look over there again and I'll have Trace hang you up by your tits and whip the flesh off your ass," warned the General embedding his hand in my hair and twisting my head toward his face. There wasn't any doubt in my mind that he meant it. I concentrated my efforts on the General's cock while behind me, the women counted each blow of the cane.

My mother-in-law was having the shit whipped out of her by her oldest son and Trace was doing the same for his sister. I found it hard to concentrate with all the screams and sobs behind me.

At some point, they halted for a minute and I heard Robbie say, "Denise, get your ass over here. Mother's ready to eat your pussy. Aren't you Mother?"

Lois mumbled a sobbing yes and the whipping resumed. I could hear slurping sounds as Lois's mouth serviced her daughter-in-law's cunt.

"Hand me the DVD remote," said the General allowing me a moment's break to reach over to the other sofa and grab the remote control. I handed it over and dove back to cocksucking.

"General Chernov sent me this last week. That old fuck's been interrogating Chechen POWs. He's got some good ones," said the General. Later I was to learn that the DVD player had a magazine that held five hundred DVDs. Most contained scenes of torture that he had acquired over his career. He had some rare vintage stuff practically dating back to the first cameras. He once made me ride his cock while I watched the Mine Police of the Peabody Coal Company torture the family of a Kentucky union organizer. It was made circa 1928 and transferred to DVD by some collector. It was silent and grainy black and white. Still, you could get off watching the twelve-member family strung up naked in a shed being abused. The young girls were raped and the boys sodomised while the parents watched. The big burly thugs of the Mine Police took their time with the younger children. One of the daughters was pretty so they gang raped her. The initials of the United Mine Workers, UMW, were branded onto both their buttocks and these were deep brandings the kind that left a horrible scar. They used bullwhips on the mother and father; smaller flails on the children. The youngest child looked to be six or eight. The fact that she was still a kid meant nothing to the Mine Police. She got the same abuse as the others. At the end, they castrated the father and the two oldest boys. They covered their wounds with hot tar to stop the bleeding then put the family on a coal train bound for Philadelphia. I guess the struggles to unionize the coalfields were serious business.

The general described it as an important piece of Americana, essential to understanding the history of our country. I had no idea where he got most of his collection and was afraid to ask.

"Ride my cock and watch," said the General pulling me up by the hair. The DVD magazine had found what the general wanted. Over to one side, the whippings had ended. Trace and Robbie were fucking the women. Mary Ellen was servicing Denise's pussy. Her feet were on the top of the stock and you could hear Denise encouraging her.

I had a moment of doubt whether I wanted to marry into this family of incestuous sadists but I quickly suppressed the doubt. I was into the same things they were and fucking my in-laws didn't strike me as beyond my limits.

The screen opened with some weird Russian military march playing in the background. I was sitting astride the General raising and lowering myself as I massaged his nuts. His hands were working my tits hard.

Loud screams drew my attention to the television where two chubby Chechen rebels were hung up by their tits. The girl's feet were six inches off the floor. A wire cable looped around each dark red boob. The girl's hands were handcuffed behind their back. A couple of handsome young Russians were circling the girls. The Russians were stripped to the waist and did not look bad at all. Each Ivan had some sort of electrical wand. When he touched their bare skin, you could see a blue electrical arc and then hear some of the most ungodly screams as the girls kicked and twisted.

"You want to be ass fucked?" asked the General.

"Yes," I replied. I usually wanted to do whatever my partner wants, especially if it was nastier.

The General handed me some lube he got from an end table drawer. Astro-Glide seemed to be the house brand. I lubed both of us up then slipped him past my anal ring. Trace and the others had finished and everyone gathered around to watch me take my father-in-law's cock up the ass. On screen the Russians were still having their fun with the terrorists. They were using butane lighters to burn their armpits and behind their knees. The Chechen's were tough and they certainly could scream. I've never been hung by my boobs and don't intend to start. I've had them bound with sash cord at the base and whipped. It's weird how they balloon out and the veins appear. The DVD provided some arty images of the Chechen's tits in the partial sunlight from the shed's skylight. A future Eisenstein allowed the camera to linger over the bloated breasts before switching to the anguished expressions on their faces. The Russians are prone to convert human suffering to great art.

Ivans hauled the two girls further off the floor using the pulley and attached a net to their ankles. Soldiers loaded ten-kilogram weight plates into the net until each girl was carrying an extra two hundred pounds on their breasts. There was more artsy camera work. You could tell the narrow cable was starting to cut through the skin. Blood was dripping down their abdomen.

The General was watching the screen as I gave him the best ass fucking I knew how. I was squeezing his dick with my gluteus maximus each time I came up, then relaxing on the down stroke to take him up by shit chute as far as he could go. I was also doing a little wiggle when I hit bottom. My hand was working his balls. I was pulling out all the stops for my new father-in-law.

His eyes were fixed to the screen. I later learned that without that type of torture and snuff video stimulation, the General had a hard time getting his rocks off.

There was a loud crash from the screen and one of the Chechens had separated from her tits. She was flopping around on the floor spewing two fountains of blood from her chest. She was already pretty used up and didn't flop long before she was still.

"Watch the bitch die," whispered the General getting his rocks off on the snuff scene. The other Chechen landed on the ground and that put the General in overdrive. He tightened his grip on my boobs repeating in a whisper some Russian phrase. Trace had told me his father spoke several languages.

Finally the General hit the big O splashing his jism deep inside my ass mixing with my shit. I was covered with sweat and my nipples ached from his mauling.

I thought we were done. I took a deep post fuck breath and reveled in the feel of cum dripping out my asshole. That is such a great feeling and I always groove on it. It was almost midnight and I'd had a long day. I turned around to lick the General's cock clean as a finale. I wanted my new father-in-law to like me.

As I was mouth cleaning the General's cock, Robbie spoke.

"You bitches start name training Rozz. Tomorrow if she can't recognize and name the family, we're going to punish all of you. It will not be pleasant."

I had no idea what he was talking about as I was pulled to my feet. Robbie and Trace pulled some wire cables with belted cuffs down from the ceiling and restrained me by my wrists. They adjusted the tension while Mary Ellen and Denise placed a spreader bar between my ankles forcing me into a wide legged stance. In less than a minute, I was strung up. My feet barely touched the floor.

Lois had loaded another DVD and there was a group picture on the big screen. It looked like something you get on a Christmas card, husband, wife, daughter, and son. Everyone looked dressed for church.

"That's the General's brother oldest son, Aaron Donaldson, his wife Emily, daughter Chloe, and son Judd," said Lois.

The screen changed and there was another family. Lois again read the names. Intuitively, I understood I was supposed to be learning the names of their relations. We went through five sets of family pictures then back to the first one.

"Who," said Mary Ellen?

I got three of the four correct so Denise only delivered one blow by the cane on my ass. That one blow wrung a heartfelt scream out of my very soul. I missed most of the rest of the five images and Denise caned me every time I fucked up. We went through it again and I improved but was not perfect. On the third time, I almost got it right. When the first five were good, we moved on to the next five. When I mastered those after being caned numerous times, we did the first ten.

"Put these on her for the next batch, we need to make sure she can function under pressure," said Trace returning from a nearby wall cabinet with a nasty looking set of nipple clamps.

Mary Ellen took my left nipple in her mouth and sucked so hard I wanted to scream. When she had my dug stretched out, Denise grabbed the very end between her nails and pulled it out while Lois let the jaws of the clamp snap shut at the base. I lost control and screamed my head off. That slowed absolutely nobody down. The three women repeated their procedure on my other nipple.

It was the kind of mind numbing pain that gets in your head. The next set of family pictures were displayed in sequence and Denise laid a dark red stripe across my ass every time I made a mistake. I figured my ass was beginning to look like a street map of NYC. I centered myself and focused. I managed to learn them and got through the review with a since mistake.

"Put her on the cunt buster," ordered the General.

Trace retrieved a tall aluminum tube from a hidden closet. It had a square platen on one end and a very nasty looking dildo on the other. It was one of those kinds where the latex had been molded into sharp spikes that covered the surface. I'd seen that kind used before to punish a disobedient slave. A vagina is a sensitive area and having it raked with hard latex spikes hurts.

The positioned the tube under me and worked the dildo inside my vagina while I shrieked in agony. I was begging Trace to stop. That was pointless of course. He knew what I really needed.

The platen was bolted to the floor and the height adjusted. Robbie held me in place by pushing down on my shoulders until it felt like the tip of that dildo was going to come out my navel. I was still resting on the balls of my feet but barely.

"Show her why we call it the cunt buster," suggested the General.

I heard and felt something being drawn back then released. There was a sound of a projectile traveling a short distance in the tube before slamming into the metal base of the dildo. The shock and vibration were transmitted throughout the dildo causing it to move forward a half-inch digging its many spikes further into the lining of my cunt.

I acknowledged the ingenuity of the device by screaming with everything I had then passing out. Amyl nitrate brought me around and the name learning process resumed.

To keep it interesting, Denise switched to a different type of whip and there was a new and exciting type of pain each time I made a memory mistake.

My pain clouded brain struggled to focus. I would lift the five toes of each foot off the floor then set them down one by one. I'd always used that before to maintain my concentration under duress.

The pussy buster was kept cocked so at any moment they could almost instantaneously immerse in pain. It had a pile driver effect. The shock went in waves up my backbone and bounced around in my brain.

Denise and Mary Ellen started caning me back and front when I failed to recognize a member of their clan.

At about 2:00AM, the men got bored with my screams and headed to bed leaving me to Lois, Denise and Mary Ellen. They kept at me until 4:30AM. It was the most prolonged and intense whipping I ever endured. Mary Ellen would masturbate me as a distraction or force a nasty looking dildo up my ass. Denise ass fucked me with a strap on while I named family members. They called that making sure I displayed grace under pressure.

When they finally uncuffed me, I could correctly identify all seventy-eight members of the Donaldsons'extended family. I couldn't walk however and my back and buttocks were on fire. I had to be helped back to Trace and my room.

I slept until noon. I had to dig deep in my stash of painkillers to make it through the day. That's one of the few perks of being a nurse.

I guess that my capacity to learn under pressure impressed the Donaldsons. The General and Lois presented me with a pair of stunning diamond earrings to wear to the party. Mary Ellen told me how pleased she was with me as a sister. She and I helped each other apply body makeup to cover last night's bruises and scrapes.

That night at the country club I was able to correctly greet and name almost all the guests. In fact, according to Lois, I didn't miss a one of the seventy-six I'd been trained on. The engagement party was very elegant.

So when approaching the wake Mary Ellen warned me about not forgetting family members, my mind flashed back to that night and I pictured each of those photos clearly in my mind.

Chapter 6 – Medals on My Labia

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

"Very creative, Mary Ellen," said General Corwin Donaldson USAF. He was my father-in-law's brother, Trace's uncle. Corwin was the black sheep who broke tradition and went to the Air Force Academy instead of West Point. His wife Cornelia and their teenage son Corwin Junior and daughter Priscilla were standing there too looking down at my medal festooned pussy and tits.

I'd not been to many military wakes and I hadn't recalled that one of the traditions was to display the fallen heroes medals beside the coffin. I suppose when you think about it, Mary Ellen had shown considerable creativity in pinning Trace's medals to my labia and using my pussy as a display case.

Flying home, I had expected that the Trace's family would treat me with the respect due their son's wife and widow. What I hadn't known was that some prick had sent Trace a DVD containing over two hundred images and a couple of MPEG videos of me going wild during hospital staff parties. He'd forwarded that on to his family right before his Humvee drove over the mine. Apparently, he also said he was going to divorce my whoring ass as soon as he got back from Afghanistan.

I guess the video of me pulling a train for a dozen black orderlies then doing some serious muff diving with a pair of Latino nurses struck them as improper behavior for their son's wife. The finale of the video was me doing a bukkake with the orderlies. My face was uniformly covered with jism that I greedily shoved into my mouth and swallowed. I was so fucking out of it I don't recall anyone with a camcorder taking close-ups of me acting like a pig whore. One other problem was that I appeared to be having the time of my life. I was the epitome of a cock-crazed slut.

My explanation that I was drunk out of my mind and doing serious drugs did not impress my in-laws. I made a note to never again inject 20CC of Demerol into my femoral artery. It had seemed like a great idea at the time.

As soon as I hobbled into the funeral home with Mary Ellen tugging on my leash, she unzipped my St. John's knit dress and made me step out of it. I experienced the utter shame and humiliation of being naked in front of half a hundred well-dressed members of the extended Donaldson family. Mary Ellen hadn't allowed me to wear any underwear so I was fully on display. I have to admit the exhibitionist in me came into play and my nipples hardened when I realized there were a hundred eyes staring at me.

I was left standing attired in black stay ups. They were the expensive kind, Wolford's Satin Touch 20 with the four-inch band of black lace at the top, very sexy but not entirely appropriate for a wake. For an all American family, they didn't have any problem with dressing their daughter-in-law in the finest German made hosiery. Not surprisingly, my ridiculously high five-inch Ferragamo pumps with ankle straps were manufactured in Milan, Italy. They were damn hard to walk in especially with my sister-in-law jerking my leash when she felt the urge.

Circling my waist was a leather belt of unknown origin. The belt arrangement included an adjustable round strap that connected the front to the back. It bisected my pussy threading it way through the eyelet at the base of the large dido that Mary Ellen had forced into my cunt. It traveled up my backside between my cheeks passing through another eyelet on the base of an anal probe that Mary Ellen had snaked up my intestines as if she worked for a drain cleaning company.

I became an object of interest as soon as Mary Ellen removed my dress.

"Where did you get that?" said a tall black haired woman I recognized as Patrice Munford, one of Trace's first cousins on his father's side. She was referring to the belt arrangement that made sure that I didn't expel either of the latex objects.

"A sweet little old man who lives near the Point makes them. He sells to upper classman who need a little something extra to train a plebe. His work is first quality. He learned his trade in Paris working at Hermes," said Mary Ellen.

"You can tell its first quality," said Patrice passing her hand along the holding strap pressing her fingers into my sex. Patrice had a husband who was a Lt. Colonel in Logistics and three teenage boys. But she was a hardcore lesbian at heart who would have loved to kneel down and start licking my cunt. Patrice reluctantly removed her fingers and spoke to me.

"And you catherized her?' said Patrice touching me where the tube entered my urethra.

"Just being practical. I don't want to fool with taking her to go to the ladies room," said Mary Ellen.

The bag wasn't empty. I'd drunk enough Jameson Reserve to get high. Irish whiskey makes for strong yellow.

"And of course later, you can make her drink it while we watch," said Patrice. "That's always so amusing."

"Yes, that would be fun, good idea," said Mary Ellen.

It looked like I was going to recycle my piss.

"I'm so sorry for your loss. Trace was a wonderful man, a true American hero, and I'm sure you'll miss him terribly. We all will. Please come and visit me sometime," said Patrice leaning down and speaking softly into my ear. Her lips brushed against my lobe. My God she was one horny dyke.

With that Patrice moved away but I saw her take a furtive lick of the fingers that had been sampling my cunt.

"Sit," said Mary Ellen ordering me into a Queen Anne chair at the side of Trace's coffin

"And don't move," commanded the diminutive West Pointer.

Mary Ellen pulled two polished black leather belts out of her purse. With my brother-in-law Robbie's help she looped the belts around my ankles. They lifted my legs over the arms of the Queen Anne and pulled my legs back. This caused my cunt to extend upward and forward. Mary Ellen positioned my piss bag so it hung off the edge of the chair. Robbie got behind the chair and pulled the straps back until I started to feel the ball shaped top of my femur straining to leave its socket in my pelvis. Robbie secured the straps behind the chair leaving me in a position bordering on agony.

Two more straps were used to bind my wrists and fasten my arms behind the chair back.

"Here, help me with this, "said Mary Elle to Robbie producing a complicated head harness. The strapping held my jaw firmly in place. It included an O-ring gag they forced between my teeth. Two hooks were inserted in my nostrils. When he finished buckling it behind my head, the hooks pulled my nostrils upward. My hair must have looked like shit.

Mary Ellen reached down to part my labia. She wrapped a small leather belt around my upper thigh and buckled it. Then she hooked an elastic band that ended in a large alligator clip to the thigh belt.

When I looked down I saw that the buckle on the belt encircling my thigh contained a bright shiny American flag. The elastic band that connected the belt to the alligator clip was red, white, and blue. The Donaldson's never missed an opportunity to display their patriotism.

"This is going to pinch," said Mary Ellen as she allowed the alligator clip to capture the edge of my labium major and pull it smartly outward.

Pinch was an understatement. It hurt like hell. When Mary Ellen had clipped my other side I looked down to see that my fallen husband's medals were displayed for all to see.

Now for the peace de resistance," said Mary Ellen fishing two additional medals out of her handbag. They were Trace's Bronze Star and the Legion of Merit he had won while in Liberia keeping the peace with a UN contingent.

"Suck her nipples," said Mary Ellen to her brother. Robbie took my left bud between his lips and sucked hard. A little of that and my nipple was fully extended. Mary Ellen pushed the pin of the Bronze Star right through my nipple and flicked the tiny catch closed. In a matter of seconds, the Legion of Merit was attached to my right tit.

Various Donaldson's drifted by to express their sympathy and admire Mary Ellen's handiwork. I could sort of babble a "Thank You" through my O-ring. I was hurting all over. My nostrils felt like they were being ripped off my face. My tits were in fire with pain. My labia were in agony and bleeding on the chair cushion. And deep inside my body cavities, I was experiencing sharp aches and cramping. And to top if off, my pelvis and shoulders were screaming in agony. However, between the physical discomfort and the mental anguish of being exposed to the family in such a grossly humiliating and shameful fashion, I was dying to be whipped and fucked.

"Where did Trace win that one?" asked Corwin Junior reaching down to touch Trace's NATO Peace Keeper's Medal. The younger Corwin allowed his fingers to linger on my cunt as he sought the information he desired. He moved his fingers around checking on each of the medals.

"What's in her cunt, Mary Ellen?" asked Corwin Junior pushing the dildo deeper inside me. I moaned in response.

"Ten by five Doc Johnson with the punishment head, go ahead give it a half turn," responded Mary Ellen.

Corwin Junior grabbed the end of the dildo and twisted it with his fingers. I felt an explosion of pain deep inside my birth canal. It felt like the younger Corwin had just ripped the lining off my uterus.

"Oh Jesus fuck that hurt," I whined unintelligibly through my gag.

"Using bad language at your husband's funeral merits more punishment. Give it a couple of more turns, Corwin," said Mary Ellen apparently able to discern my babbling. Possibly she got sufficient practice at West Point torturing plebes to understand words spoken in anguish.

Corwin Junior displayed his budding talents as a sadist by quickly responding to Mary Ellen's instructions. Two half turns and I was certain that I no longer had a uterus. A large rounded object that was very sharp and jagged was ripping and gouging my flesh as it rotated. In spite of enough pain to blind me with a bright white flash, I managed to avoid profanity only emitting a loud shriek. The shriek caused the attendees to laugh. Something that was terribly inappropriate at Trace's funeral.

"Where can you buy these?' asked Corwin Senior glancing at Cornelia who didn't seem at all happy with the prospect of having a ten by five Doc Johnson with the punishment head fitted into her love canal next time she and the General got together for lovemaking.

"I'll email you the address, General," responded Mary Ellen.

Cornelia looked resigned to spending time with a similar arrangement to mine creating hellish pain between her legs. Oh well, when you married into the Donaldson's it was truly for better and much worse.

I looked straight at Priscilla whose teenage mouth was practically watering as she stared at my cunt. I recalled how four years ago at my wedding reception I woke up to find little Priscilla who was a freshman in high school licking deposits of semen out of my well fucked cunt. If anyone had said the word, I wouldn't doubt she'd kneel right down in front of the Queen Anne and enjoy a piece of pussy pie. Strangely enough, the Donaldson's often complemented their macho warrior males with females possessing an insatiable appetite for tongue working pussies that were leaking semen.

At the wedding reception, Priscilla had waited until all the male relatives had unloaded their cocks in Trace's comatose bride. I'd passed out almost unnoticed at the reception from too much French Champagne and slipped quietly under the table. I recall fuzzily that two of Trace's army buddies who had noticed the bride sinking below the table immediately reacted as officers and gentleman They joined me underneath the long table, removed my panties and mounted me for a quickie. At that time, I wasn't too far-gone to suck officer number one while I fucked officer number two. At some point, I was missed. Trace and Robbie found me sleeping quietly with cum leaking out my orifices. They took me to a nearby bedroom and removed all my attire save my wedding veil, garter belt and hose. The two brothers enjoyed me together in a necrophiliac fashion then quietly passed the word to the rest of the attendees that the bride was pulling a train and all were welcome. I suppose that falls under the heading of wedding hijinks. There were several hundred guests and a large number of the males and more than a few females got to sample the bride's wares. Too bad I was too stoned to enjoy it.

Priscilla had a talented tongue and a love for eating cream pies that was surprising in one so young. She was licking and slurping the content of both my cum-dripping holes when her mother and Aunt Patrice showed up and joined us. We wound up in a daisy chain that ended when we ladies were too exhausted for additional orgasms. More champagne was found and the four of us slept together in a naked pile until the next morning.

Needless to say Trace and my wedding had not gone as I had thought it would. I had expected a sedate classy affair. It did start that way but ended as an all out orgy that cost me some good friends and left me with a sister who no longer speaks to me.

After a storybook wedding at Saint Marks Cathedral, the wedding reception was held at the Donaldson Estate. A large tent was erected on the lawn and the New England weather had cooperated for once. It was a beautiful June Saturday.

I had every reason to expect a respectable wedding. Father Mankel the Priest who married us was invited. I told myself that with the Priest attending it would be a straight affair. My beautiful younger sister, Brooke, was also there. She was a freshman at UNH and my only living close relative. Mom and Dad had died in a car wreck three years ago.

Brooke was my maid of honor. My two best friends in college, Regine and Chloe were bridesmaids. Mary Ellen and Denise completed the bridesmaid contingent. Trace's brother Robbie was best man. Three of his fellow officers were groomsmen. My only living male relative, Uncle Garrison, gave me away.

There were only a handful of my family and friends and a great host of Donaldson's at my wedding. The reception started off in a traditional fashion. We were introduced as Captain and Mrs. Trace Donaldson and we danced the first song. I felt incredibly proud to have made such a great match. The band was really good and the crowd liked to dance. There was delicious buffet and free flowing booze. I danced and drank until I passed out. I recall that as the reception got drunker, it got wilder. I remember looking over the dance floor during a slow song and seeing that a number of the women had hiked their skirt up to their waist and their partners were cupping their butts pulling them against their groins. Some even had their hands inside their panties on their bare bottoms. And this wasn't just the younger set. My father-in-law had his wife's dress hiked up and she was grinding him. I thought the grind was a dance only performed in big city ghettos but there was Lois bent over holding her ankles while she rubbed her panty clad tush over the General's groin. I remember thinking that things were getting out of hand but I was too drunk to react not that I could have stopped anything if I had tried. The Donaldsons were a force of nature.

But my understanding of what happened later is mostly based on the more sober accounts of my erstwhile friends and estranged sister.

I do recall that when I stumbled inside the house to pee, I heard noises from one of the bedrooms. Curious, I moved to a door and quietly opened it. There were Father Mankel and my Uncle Garrison sodimising two of the altar boys who had served the wedding Mass. I had always suspected that my bachelor uncle was gay but how he got hooked up with Father Mankel so quickly surprised me. The two boys were on their all fours with their butts in the air. There was a lot of grunting and nasty talk going on.

"Fuck that boy pussy," my Uncle kept repeating as he slammed his meat into the boy's hole. The youth squealed each time Uncle Garrison sunk his meat home. The boy was no novice to cornholing. He was pushing back each time my uncle drove forward. Father Mankel was cock deep inside a boy's butt also. He was wearing a leather cock ring to maintain his erection.

I snuck quietly away leaving the sodomites to their fun.

It was three weeks after the wedding that I got a long letter from Brooke, Regine, and Chloe informing me of what happened to them at the reception. The letter ended by informing me that my sister and friends intended to have nothing to do with me in the future.

My recollections of the wedding were frequently interrupted by mourners expressing their condolences. All the males and most of the females took the opportunity to examine Trace's medals. They allowed the their hands to linger over each medal and some said to hell with the pretense and just played with my pussy and fondled my tits. All that stimulation got me aroused. I desperately needed to be fucked. I was encouraged by a casual question that Robbie asked Mary Ellen.

"Are you going to keep her that way for the entire wake?" asked Robbie.

"After the eulogies, we'll have a public gang bang of the cunt," said Mary Ellen.

"Knowing Rozz, she'll probably love it," said Robbie.

"Your husband's wake should be a memorable event in your life," said Mary Ellen.

As I sat there trying to cope with the excruciating pain and resulting lust of my predicament my mind wondered back to that letter.

Chapter 7 – Sisterly Love 1

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

As I sat there in the Queen Anne chair staining the cushion with a mixture of blood from my labial punctures and secretions from my over stimulated cunt, I recalled the written exchange I had with Brooke and friends regarding my the wedding reception. Relatives examining Trace's medals frequently interrupted my ruminations. They used the examination as an excuse to poke around my sex. The feelings of being an absolutely worthless sex object fit only to serve as a backdrop for the decorations Trace had won on the field of valor added to my titillation. The shame and degradation of my situation stimulated my capacity for self-lubrication to unprecedented heights. My pussy was positively seeping goo like a Vermont maple at the height of the sap season.

Still, the surrounding presence of the family recalled my wedding of several years ago and all that came to pass that fateful day.

Brooke was my younger sister and maid of honor. Maid of Honor was not exactly an apt term for a Donaldson wedding. When I got back from my honeymoon and returned to the Army Nursing School, I found a thick letter in my mailbox. Brooke and my two best friends, Regine and Chloe, signed it.
Basically it described unpleasant things that had occurred to them and their partners and dates at the reception. They very unfairly from my point of view blamed me. At the end of the letter, they disowned me. My own sister can you imagine that?

Brooke at the time of the reception was semi-engaged to a law student named Coleman. She was pretty hung up on the guy who I thought treated her like shit. Regine was living with a resident named Keith and Chloe had been dating a fellow student named Charles since the semester started. The six of them were at the reception and each felt they had just cause for complaint against me, although I was just as much a victim as they were. This was all so incredibly unfair. I no longer speak to my sister or the other two cunts that I used to call friends. I can honestly say my only role in what befell them was that I wrote their names on the guest list.

When the bad things happened, I was off in some bedroom servicing a long line of wedding guests. The fact that I was bent double with my ankles and wrists tied together to the bed posts did not in any way earn me extenuating circumstances with regard to my degree of guilt. I should add that due to over consumption of alcohol I was unaware of my own predicament at that time. It was later when the photographer delivered the wedding pictures that I realized how many men had fucked the bride that day. Simon, that's the photographer, had set up his camera at the side of the bed and took a picture each time I was freshly mounted. The pictures are almost uniform, a naked man grinning big time at the camera after he had just sunk his prick in my hole of his choice. At some point, Simon had set the camera timer and took his own bride-humping image. He certainly had a big cock and I wish I had been conscious enough to enjoy it. Simon also made some artsy shots of my vagina and asshole leaking semen. Those are pretty hot and I've been known to get myself off thumbing through them. I find the look and feel of hot cum leaking out my holes deliciously erotic. But doesn't every one?

I have two books of wedding pictures. The first I call the G-rated and it looks like everyone else's perhaps a little nicer. The other is X-rated and it is much larger than the G–rated one. I keep it near my bed and considered it my major source of masturbatory fantasies. Simon was all over the place that night and caught pretty much all the action including that of Brooke, the other two cunts and their horny boy friends. Since the little whore has declared me persona non grata I especially enjoy looking at the photos of her getting her brains fucked out and what happened to her afterward in the Donaldson family dungeon.

Brooke's letter started right off slamming me.

Dear Rozz,

I am ashamed that you are my sister. Coleman dumped me and it is your fault. Keith moved his stuff out of Regine's apartment and that is your responsibility also. And Charles has informed Chloe that he needs to start seeing other people and that he's not ready to make a commitment. I hope you are pleased with all the unhappiness that your wedding reception caused.

Let me just say that events that occurred the afternoon and night of your wedding were appalling. Things that were done to me your only sister and closest living relative and to your friends, Regine and Chloe and our partners involved disgusting deviant behavior that would merit criminal charges if they were not too embarrassing to be brought to light.

Since you were too drunk to notice what occurred I along with Regine and Chloe with input from Coleman, Keith and Charles have prepared this account so you can understand our justification for never speaking to you again.

Between the six of us we have been to numerous weddings and receptions and we all believe that yours is unrivaled for the ribald sexual behavior that more resembled a Roman orgy than a Christian wedding.

After the traditional reception silliness such as you and Trace being introduced as man and wife, things happened that shocked us to our core.

As we watched the dancing, we saw that matters had taken a strange turn. The fact that your mother-in-law hiked up her skirt and bent over to grind her thong clad bottom against your father-in-law's crotch indicated that the train was going off the tracks. We should have gotten up and left at that point but we didn't want to be rude and frankly we had drank much more champagne than we should have. You know I have a low tolerance for alcohol and as my older sister you should have been looking out for me.

When the other Donaldson family members and guests joined in, we felt obliged to participate. As you are aware I am not a prude. I used to dance the grind in high school. It got wilder when the bandleader called for everyone to change partners. I found myself rubbing my butt on the groin of some military type who slipped a hand inside my drawers and felt me up. Some of the male dancers had exposed their cocks and were rubbing them across the backsides of their partners. This was early on at your wedding reception.

The fact that several of the guests were teenagers did not seem to matter. In fact one of the Donaldson men was doing the grind with his daughter. He was holding her by the hips as she rubbed her thong-covered butt against his erection. Before the song ended, father and daughter disappeared into the mansion. As I stated before I'm no prude but I draw the line at incest.

The bandleader called for another partner change and my next dance partner managed to insert his fingers inside my vagina while resting his erection on by behind. Looking back I am deeply ashamed that I allowed that to happen. What was I thinking to allow a perfect stranger to do that? If the music had not stopped, he would have penetrated me right there on the dance floor. Regine and Chloe received similar treatment I'm embarrassed to say.

Coleman, Keith, and Charles thought it was terrific since they had got to fondle the privates of multiple female partners. Coleman had even exposed himself and not bothered to zip up until he returned to the table. Coleman and the others are typical males and the fact that they think with their dicks excuse them. Still, I'm convinced that if so much champagne had not been served, my Coleman would not have finished the dance with his hardon resting between the butt cheeks of that red headed Donaldson woman who was from Tennessee. I can't remember her name.

We'd all had too much to drink, especially Chloe who could barely stand. At the end of the grind, all except Chloe returned to our table. Figuring she had gone to the ladies room, we relaxed and caught our breath. We were all pretty worked up.

After a while and more champagne, Charles announced he was going to look for Chloe. He came hurrying back after five minutes threw himself into his seat and drank right from the a bottle of Perrier-Jouet 1996 Grand Brut. (Coleman who knows wine assured me that 1996 was a vintage year and we were drinking the good stuff. God knows what the liquor alone cost since there was cases of the 1996 stacked everywhere. I really don't fault the Donaldson's for giving you and Trace an exquisite wedding; it's the orgy afterwards that I found unacceptable.)

"Did you find her?" I asked.

"Yes, I found her," said Charles appearing decidedly unhappy.

"So where is she?"

"In the library screwing two guys," said a disgusted Charles.

"You're kidding, not Chloe."

"She's naked, on the couch with her legs wrapped around one dude and the other is skull fucking her."

"My God they must be raping her," I said.

"Not based on the noises she was making. Squealing 'fuck my hot pussy' and 'give me more cock' doesn't sound like rape to me. That whore was moaning every time they sunk it home. I'm going to look around for my own piece of ass. There's plenty of young pussy available," said Charles getting up to leave.

I watched as Charles disappeared into the house. I almost ran after him and I considered going to find Chloe but I had consumed too much alcohol to make the right decision.

"Where's Rozz, this is getting out of hand," I said.

"A few minutes ago, I saw your sister slide under the table drunk. I think she's got company at the moment," said Coleman.

"Company?" Things were happening to fast for me to clearly comprehend the depths of depravity that the reception had reached.

"I saw a couple of military types climb under there with her," said Coleman.

"To help her?"

"My guess is that they are fucking the bride," said Coleman. "Your sister is a slut."

"That's ridiculous. She just got married to Trace. Don't be so crude," I was put out at Coleman's remark.

"Well then, let's go see," said Coleman.

"Let's have a toast first," said Keith who was apparently drunker than I had thought. Keith had already pulled the champagne out of the ice bucket and was sloppily filling all the glasses.

"To getting laid," said Keith holding his glass up. "This is the wildest fucking wedding I've ever seen to."

"Definitely," said Coleman. "There's strange pussy to be had for the asking."

"I'll take care of you, sweetheart," I said to Coleman communicating to him that I was there for him if he was horny. However, Coleman can get difficult and willful when he drinks.

"Come here, Brooke, let's show Keith what you got to offer," said Coleman pulling me on to his lap. I was too inebriated to resist. He reached behind me and unzipped my maid of honor dress that only hours ago I had proudly worn standing beside you in the cathedral. He pulled it off my shoulders then unhooked my bra. In less than ten seconds I was seated there with my boobs showing. To make matters worse, he held both my hands (He's very strong.) so I couldn't cover up.

The people at the next table thought it was hilarious. One of the men loudly ordered his wife to climb up on the table and strip and the poor drunk woman did. The relationship between the sexes of the guests was not what I was used to. Donaldson men seem to have an unheard of level of control over their women.

When I glanced over at their table, an overweight middle age housewife type was stepping out of her dress revealing some sizeable rolls of abdominal fat.

My eyes filled with tears at Coleman's behavior. However I knew it wasn't the real Coleman but a Coleman propelled by the alcohol and lewdness of your wedding reception.

"Get up on the table," Keith ordered Regine actually pulling her out of her chair and onto the tabletop.

"Now stand up and show us your pussy," said Keith who had apparently decided to engage in some form of insane competition with the other table. Another woman had joined the housewife who was drunkenly attempting to remove her pantyhose.

Regine surprised me by attempting to reach back and unzip her dress but she lost her balance and would have taken a bad fall if I hadn't reached up to steady her.

"Unzip me," said Regine.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Do it," yelled Regine angrily. I recalled that time we all went to New Orleans for Mardi Gras. Regine with a few drinks is something of an exhibitionist. She almost got arrested for walking down Bourbon Street dressed only in a thong and high heels and an impressive number of plastic beads.

She let the dress fall to the tabletop managed to unhook her bra without falling and allowed her breasts to spring free. There was applause from the neighboring tables.

"All of it," yelled Keith. "Show us your pussy."

Regine was wearing stay up hose so she obligingly pushed her panty down and threw them to the other table. Regine has a good twenty three year old figure. Like most women our age, she shaved her sex except for a cute rattail that we laughingly referred to as the runway. There was more applause and yelling as Regine in hose and pumps danced slowly to the music.

My God this can't be happening I told myself as I looked around.

We had apparently started a trend because all around us, women were climbing up on tables to publicly undress. And it was not necessarily the young or body weight proportionate. A silver haired grandmother type who looked to be in her seventies was gyrating nearby in all her silver skinned liver spot accented glory. The elderly lady had shed her clothes in record time and was moving around the table being orally serviced by young and old, male and female. I recall watching a young boy that I would take for a grandson slurping away at her aged cunt, her frail looking hands buried in his blonde curls and a look of absolute ecstasy on her face.

"You too," said Coleman standing me up to remove my dress.

"I'm the maid of honor," I whined for some inexplicable reason. I'm a modest person at least when I am sober.

"Who gives a shit," said Coleman pulling my panty down. He felt me up, actually penetrating my vagina and made a show of sniffing and licking his fingers before lifting me up on the tabletop. Like Regine, I was down to stay ups and pumps. Regine grabbed my hands to steady me.

"Dance you two, show us some lesbo action," yelled Keith.

"Yea, rub your tits together," said Coleman.

I recall that both Coleman and Keith were both drinking out of a champagne bottle.

"I need a drink," yelled Regine who had wrapped her arms around me and was working her nipples over mine. I have very sensitive nipples and mine got hard as sapphires almost instantly.

Keith handed up a bottle of the 1996 and Regine and I took long swallows as we danced and kissed. Rozz you know how I lose all sense of morality when I'm under the influence. On multiple occasions, you've seen booze turn your shy modest sister into a brazen horny slut. How could you let that happen to me on your wedding day of all days?

Rozz, it was about this time, I saw Trace and your brother-in-law, Robbie, pull you out from under the wedding party table. Your wedding dress was up around your waist. That beautiful La Perla raw silk panty you were wearing was down around one ankle. The bodice of the stunning strapless Vera Wang wedding gown was pushed down and your breasts were visible. Coleman had been right. Two of Trace's fellow officers had screwed you after you passed out. Trace should not have left you alone. It was partially his fault. I remember thinking that Trace would forgive you since you hadn't really consented. I was saddened that those awful soldiers had raped my poor sister on her wedding day. Those were the thoughts on my mind as Regine and I rubbed our sex together and table danced. The band was playing some raunchy tune and the crowd really got their hearts and minds into the lewd goings on.

One or more naked dancing women occupied every one of the tabletops. The beautiful centerpieces that I had so admired had been kicked or thrown to the ground. It was at that point that the band went on break.

"Let's take the women inside and fuck them," said someone at the next table.

"Good idea, my Johnson is ready for some cunt," said Keith in agreement.

To be honest I was pretty worked up and thought a little roll in the hay with Coleman would be fun. But he surprised me.

"I want some strange," said Coleman.

"Right, we can fuck those two whores anytime," said Keith referring to Regine and me unflatteringly.

"There's some really young stuff here. I'm talking junior high pussy," said Coleman.

Rozz, I find it hard to believe that you married into a family that tolerated such behavior. We certainly weren't raised that way. You corrupted out boyfriends in a single afternoon.

Keith and Coleman left us standing on the tabletop. Carrying a bottle of champagne they staggered arm-in-arm toward the entrance to the manor house. Regine and I climbed down to follow. We grabbed our clothes and ran after them.

We were only partially dressed as we reached the door where we found ourselves in the middle of a group of soldiers in their dress uniforms. Coleman and Keith had disappeared inside. As soon as the soldiers realized there were two half naked females among them they grabbed us and starting kissing and feeling us up. Back off went my dress and my lack of underwear encouraged them to take further liberties. Their hands were all over Regine and me. All those hands touching me caused me to lose my inhibitions. Like any normal woman of my age who found herself naked and being groped by incredible specimens of American manhood, I became aroused and found myself pushing my breasts and sex against their hands as we tongue-kissed. I blame you for that Rozz.

I later learned they were members of Trace's Special Operations Unit. Like every one else they were drunk and out of control.

Without a single word, they hoisted Regine and I over their heads and carried us inside. A dozen male hands held me up as we moved down the hall.

"Where do you want these two, Major? " asked one of the soldiers when we met Robbie in the hallway.

"Put her in there with her sister, the brunette with the other bridesmaid," said Robbie.

They carried me into a bedroom where there were two twin brass beds. Regine and I were separated.

Rozz, you were tied to one bed. I suppose you know that by now. The wedding photographer had set up his camera beside your bed. I remember thinking how terribly decadent. When I looked around I saw we were in a simple unadorned bedroom that was probably for servants. Your mother-in-law, Lois, had taken me on a tour of the mansion and I knew we were in the servant's wing, although she'd skipped that particular area of the mansion.

Things were happening faster than I could process them. A muscular black man was screwing you as his buddies cheered him on. They were chanting, "fuck her fuck her, fuck her" in the same rhythm as the soldier was pushing one of the largest cocks I'd ever personally seen into your vagina. You seemed out of it but were grunting enthusiastically at each stroke.

The small room was packed with soldiers most of who were already naked. The sight of so many men fisting their penises overwhelmed me. The excitement of realizing what was going to happen twisted my mind and the evil Brooke took me over. I'm only human.

And you were no help. The black guy sounded some wild military yell as he finished in you. When his cockhead left your hole, a stream of cum flowed out dripping down to your asshole. The fact that your butthole was slightly open told me that you'd already been taken anally. Your wedding veil was matted with semen. I grew faint at what I was witnessing. How I wanted what you were getting.

When the black soldier climbed off you, another immediately took his place. I saw you open your eyes and smile as he slipped inside your butthole. You always liked anal.

"Fuck my ass, soldier, fuck my ass," you said lost in your own world of alcohol and sex. You didn't even notice that your own sister was only a few feet away and about to join the gang bang.

The black soldier looked in my direction, shook his glistening cock and said, "I'll be ready to go again in fifteen and you're going to take every inch of this."

My knees turned to water at the thought of that enormous prick inside my tiny vagina. He was going to split me apart, rip my cunt open, and make me bleed. Unconsciously, I licked my lips at the prospect of being skewered like a pig on a spit. I knew it would hurt terribly and I would be pleading with him to hurt me even worse.

Rozz, you know that I like you inherited a gene from mother that makes us process pain and humiliation into sexual pleasure. You of all people should be aware of that. How many times when we were little did we listen to the sound of that leather strap landing on her backside and her begging daddy to strike harder? That was always followed by loud moans when he used those clothespins they kept in the nightstand on her nipples. Recall the time we snuck downstairs and watched through the furnace grate as daddy and our neighbor Mr. Paul seared her skin with hot candle wax. You could see in her face how much she needed the pain. We both need therapy.

"We're going to have a sister fuck, men," yelled Robbie striding into the room obviously in command. "We're doing the bride and the maid of honor. I want that one stripped, tied, and ready for action in thirty seconds."

Robbie was referring to me and I was glad. Rozz, thanks to you I was acting like a total slut.

Chapter 8 – Sisterly Love 2

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

Oh please, spare me. Have you ever heard such obnoxious bullshit? Brooke is an absolute hypocrite. She calls me a slut. I'm not the one who my sophomore year in high school went into the boy's locker room with another slut and sucked off the football team. The coach caught her and she was suspended for three days. Nor was I the one who got so drunk at her junior prom that she didn't object when her date sold her ass for $100 to this business man he met in the lounge at the Marriott. After the guy fucked her, he dumped her unconscious naked body in a laundry gurney, put it on the elevator and sent it down to the crowded lobby. Her date bragged to the entire school that he pimped her for a Ben Franklin. She makes the worst choices when it comes to men.

As for Regine and Chloe, those two self-righteous bimbos used to make pocket money working bachelor parties where they did mega-fucking. I'm talking taking on a crowd of horny guys and doing the groom right out in front of everybody. I've seen them come back to the dorm with their hair matted down with cum and every orifice leaking the good stuff.

I'll recall the rest of her nonsense and leave it to the reader to decide.

After Trace issued his orders, the men picked me up and tied me to the bed. Leather straps bound my wrists and ankles to the headboard. Someone shoved a pillow behind my head and another under my butt. I was in the same position you were Rozz except I wasn't wearing a wedding veil. How utterly shameful the way you acted on your wedding day. You should know you were moaning and making sounds like you were enjoying what they were doing to you. I'm surprised Trace didn't have the wedding annulled.

I was shaking like a leaf, utterly terrified and begging them not to rape me. I felt so exposed and vulnerable as this big soldier climbed up on the bed with a hardon. He put his hand on my pussy then forced a finger in my vagina. He grinned at me when the digit glided inside my vagina.

"Why you little slut, you're already wet," he said as he withdrew his glistening finger and held it up for me to see.

Poor Regine and Chloe say they were identically bound on twin beds in an adjacent room. Chloe cried her eyes out when she told me what happened. This was after Charles dumped her for in his words demonstrating what a drunken harlot she was. We three girls have spent hours in Starbucks and at O'Hare's talking about what happened. While we accept some responsibility, it's you Rozz that are mainly to blame since it was your wedding. And it was your in-laws family and friends that did those awful things to us.

It's not by accident that all four of us were tied in the same way. Those soldiers had done this sort of thing before. I heard them talking about it. They laughingly referred to it as Rape SOP where SOP stood for Standard Operating Procedure, a military term. I'd hazard a guess we weren't the first women those GIs had tied up and raped in exactly that way.

It's hard to imagine how you could be made more available to a rapist. You head is propped up against the headboard so you can see what's happening. Also it allows them using their own twisted military terminology to 'skull fuck' you.

What an ugly way to describe making love to a man's penis with your mouth. From the eight grade onward, I've always taken a great deal of pride in my skill and willingness to provide oral pleasure. Men appreciate and value a woman who knows how to give good head. Referring to such a beautiful act as 'skull fucking' is sick and perverted. I don't care if those soldiers are our country's heroes, they should be more careful with their language.

My wrists were tied to the outer post of the headboard. My ankles were tied inches above my wrists. It's a good thing I'm a gymnast and flexible. Poor Regine had trouble walking after we released her. She said it felt like her hip sockets were dislocated.

Their Rape SOP provided access to all three of our holes. I found out pretty quickly that I could be skull fucked while another soldier was raping my ass or pussy. Once I was tied down, things happened quickly.

"Kiss it," said the soldier straddling me and placing his cock against my lips.

I kissed it although it smelled like it had just left someone's pussy. I suspect that was yours, Rozz. Regardless you know how horny I get when I'm drunk and know I'm going to be taken advantage of and there's nothing I can do about it. Still, I hate my weakness for enjoying forced intercourse.

"Now lick it, you stupid bitch, and tell me how good it tastes," said the soldier.

I have a hard time maintaining my sense of morality when I'm being verbally humiliated. I eagerly passed my tongue over his slimy cock head.

"It tastes wonderful. I love the taste of a dirty dick," I said continuing to lick the glandular secretions of your pussy mixed with semen off his pole. My eagerness was showing. My control was slipping away.

"Open wide slut," said the soldier pushing his rigid member past my lips. I got a better understanding why the term 'skull fucking' was accurate. My head was pinned against the headboard and could barely move. On the other hand the soldier had complete freedom of movement and he proceeded to use his hips to rock back and forth thrusting deeper and deeper into my mouth. In a matter of moments, he was forcing himself into my throat causing me to gag.

"Choke on that cock," said the soldier when I gagged. Drool spilled over my lower lip when he withdrew. He gave me a second to recover then back in he went this time cutting off my air supply.

"What's the matter, cunt, can't breathe," taunted the soldier looking down on me with a grin on his face as I struggled to bring air in through my nose and down to my lungs. He placed his fingers over my nose pinched my nostrils shut and I panicked. His cock was blocking my windpipe. I started thrashing from side to side totally freaked out.

"Knock it off, Simpson, this ain't Afghanistan," said Robbie who was standing nearby.

Simpson reluctantly released my nostrils and pulled his dick out of my mouth. I took a deep breath to refill my lungs. Smothering is not my preferred way to die. My eyes were watering. Simpson wiped his slimy cock over my face.

"Major says I can't have any more fun with you."

"I couldn't breathe, please, just fuck me," was all I could manage.

"Funny, neither could that woman in at Gardez that knew where her husband was hiding but wouldn't let us in on the secret."

"She told you after you smothered her with your cock," I asked?

"No, she didn't say a word, she just choked to death on my peter," said Simpson allowing his cock head to rest just inside my mouth. I was doing my best to suck it and keep him happy. There was a yearning in my cunt that I wanted satisfied. I needed cock inside me.

"Her sister gave him up when she saw what happened and we told her she was next," said Simpson.

"Hurry up, Simpson, you're not the only one that wants a piece of the bride's sister," said someone I couldn't see.

"Those whores in the other room, are they friends of yours?" said Simpson.

"Yes, they go to nursing school with Rozz and me."

"I'll fuck them next. Where do want it, pussy or ass?"

"Pussy."

"Your getting it in the ass," said Simpson as he moved down. He applied spit to his cock and my rectum then shoved his dick past my anal ring in a manner calculated to cause me maximum discomfort. Every damn sex manual says the secret to enjoying anal is to take it slow. Simpson must have read those manuals with the opposite intent. He forced his penis in as far as it would go in one swift thrust. I screamed in pain that occasioned some laugher and encouraging comments from his comrades. If a girl as looking for sympathy and understanding from that bunch she was looking in the wrong place.

As Simpson ass fucked me, he discovered my nipples and proceeded to use his teeth and fingers to cause me pain. Begging him to stop seemed to encourage him. Regine and Chloe were subjected to the same kind of brutal behavior. This is an excerpt I wrote down from a conversation we had at Starbucks.

"You know since they're soldiers defending our country, I didn't mind them raping me. I just wish they hadn't gone about it so rough," said Chloe sipping her latte.

"I agree that putting out for the men in uniform is patriotic in the war against terror. But did they have to chew my nipples off," said Regine. Some sadist had actually bitten both her nipples off during intercourse. Poor Regine thinks that her disfigured breasts are one of the reasons that Keith told her to move her stuff out of his apartment.

Regine has consulted a plastic surgeon to repair the damage. She's expecting you and Trace to pay for the reconstructive surgery or she's planning to sue.

"Thank God they only mangled mine. I thought that I was also going to come back to college nipple less," said Chloe.

"Mine looked and felt like they'd been in a blender," I said. All three of us had deep bite marks on our breasts that haven't healed. I bet we have scars.

"My throat was sore for a week. I sucked on a lozenge from morning to night," said Chloe. She was referring to the after effect of having multiple cocks forced down your throat.

"My asshole still looks like hamburger," I said.

"I'm surprised we didn't get an infection or some horrible disease. My back door was a little nasty and they kept making me clean their cocks with my tongue," said Regine.

"Oh, you too, isn't that the most disgusting thing anyone ever made you do," I said.

"I never heard of a wedding where the guests were forced to eat their own shit until your sister's," said Chloe.

Rozz, I lost track of the times that cocks covered with feces were presented to my mouth to clean. I'm a fastidious person about things like that. If Coleman wants anal, he has to tell me beforehand so I can take a mini-douche to clean out my rectum. My idea of personal hygiene is not having a penis covered in my own feces thrust in my mouth for a tongue bath.

Of course, you Rozz were too drunk to mind that men were pushing shit-stained cocks in your mouth. One of my last memories of you that day was your head hanging off the bed while one of the last soldiers left standing skull fucked you. After he finished I looked over at you and saw there wide brown stains around your mouth. What a disgusting pig you were on your wedding day.

After Simpson finished, another soldier replaced him. He finished quickly and I was mounted again before I had a chance to catch my breath. After that they rolled on and off me ever few minutes. Mostly it was one at a time but there were occasions when I had a cock in my mouth and another one in my ass or pussy.

I'm genetically predisposed to enjoy impersonal sex I'm sorry to say. And there's nothing more impersonal than a gang rape. You don't know their names and their faces blend together after a while. Its quick, brutal, and it goes on until your body parts are rubbed raw and you can't distinguish between pleasure and pain. Each thrust hurts like hell but you don't want it to stop. You glad when one guy finishes but even happier when the next one mounts you.

I've spent some time talking about this with Doctor Graves, my therapist. He considers me a very interesting case. He plans to organize a seminar of his colleagues and me at his cabin in the White Mountains.

At some point the soldier with the giant cock raped me. I'm not very large down there and his penis felt like somebody was showing the blunt end of a baseball bat in my pussy. If my vagina wasn't already soaked in semen from a dozen ejaculates and stretched to the hilt, he would probably have ruptured something.

Oddly, enough, he made me tell him my cell phone number. He promised to call me and take me out for dinner when he's home on leave. He's from this area.

Lex, that his name, gives the kind of fuck a girl finds it hard to forget. Long smooth strokes that end up in territory not previously visited. He was sweet about it too. He thumbed my clit as he screwed me and I got off while that club of his was rummaging around in my cervix or was it my womb. It was awesome. Since you owe me could you do me a favor and ask Trace or Robbie for Lex's email address. I'd like to stay in touch.

After Lex finished, I lost track of time. I got a bad case of pussy farts that occasioned more than one round of humiliating laughter. Why am I susceptible to them? Some of the nicer rapists honored my request for clit action and I climaxed fairly regularly. I suppose that before it was over, I had gotten my head into the gang rape and was encouraging them to abuse me. Once again I blame you for putting me in that predicament.

How many times were we raped? Chloe says she lost count after fourteen. She estimates between thirty and fifty but that sounds ridiculous. I recall overhearing conversations where soldiers who had raped all four of us compared notes. It was after mid night when the soldiers gave up and the dyke soldier appeared on the scene. That was weird.

Her name was Gwen and she was an Amazon. Muscles rippled on her tattooed covered body. She looked like a mixture of Latina and American Indian packed into a six-foot package that few men would like to face in the dark. She reminded me of one of those women you see on television competing in the Miss Fitness America contest. Given that there was not an ounce of body fat on the rest of her, I doubt that her large and very firm breasts were real.

"Let's get you untied," said Gwen. She was wearing a thong made out of that camouflage material our soldiers wear. That and a pair of combat boots completed her attire.

Gwen finished untying me and helped me out of bed. I'd been on my back for over four hours. I'd been raped countless times. When I stood up, my cunt and asshole expelled a large quantity of semen that cascaded down my thighs.

"How about my sister?" I said when I got to my feet. I got the surprise of my life when I saw what was happening with you.

Rozz, there was a young girl and I mean very young between your legs licking your pussy. You were moaning and carrying on as this sweet and innocent looking teen engaged in a serious session of rug munching. She was start naked and if a day over fourteen I'd be shocked. Twelve might have been more like it.

"There you are, Priscilla, we've been looking all over for you," said another women who had just entered the room. Based on resemblance I took her to Priscilla's mother. Mom was wearing stay ups and pumps. There was a bite mark on one of her breasts.

"Help me untie Rosalind. She pulled a train for Robbie's entire unit," said Priscilla.

I did recall the woman's name because I thought it was an unusual one. It was Cornelia and she was the wife of your father-in-law's youngest brother. Cornelia in no way seemed surprised to find her daughter eating your well-fucked pussy Rozz. What kind of perverted family did you marry into? These people may have money, power, influence, etc, but they have the morals of an alley cat.

Another woman wearing a sexy lace garter belt, hose, and pumps arrived. She had a nasty bruise on her cheek and when she turned around there were whelps covering her butt.

"Hi Cornelia, finally we get our turn with the bride. I'm surprised there's much left after Robbie's unit got through with her. Oh, hi Gwen and you're Brooke, Rozz's sister, I'm Patrice."

Patrice walked over and lay a serious tongue's thrashing kiss on Gwen. After Gwen, it was my turn to be on the receiving end of Patrice's tongue action. After all the rough and tumble I'd received over the last few hours, some nice gentle girl on girl action seemed like something my soul required.

"Oh you are so sweet, such a soft warm mouth," was what you cooed from the bed. Patrice and Cornelia were untying you and your eyes were open for a change. Little Priscilla was going to town on your sex. From the way she was going about it, I could tell yours was not the first pussy that Priscilla had eaten.

"Let's get the other two brides maid untied and then let's shower," said Gwen to me. A shower sounded terrific. I was caked with semen. Dried semen was matted in my hair and there were big splotches of the stuff on my face.

"Enjoy," said Cornelia as we left. When I looked back, I could see that you were awake at last. Cornelia and Patrice were pushing the twin beds together and Priscilla was munching your rug.

Regine and Chloe were still tied up. There was a naked soldier passed out on the floor. Some clown had stuck champagne bottles in the girl's ass and pussy. According to Regine and Chloe the finale had included shaking up a bottle of the 1996, uncorking it and inserting the spewing bottle in each of the girl's orifices. A good hard shove had buried the bottle inside. Both girls were moaning and whimpering. Regine had two nasty wounds where her nipples used to be.

I removed the champagne bottles much to the relief of the girls. We untied them. Regine screamed like a banshee when she straightened her legs.

"Let's go to my room. We can all shower and clean up," said Gwen.

It turned out that Gwen is a Lieutenant Colonel in something called Delta Force. She missed the wedding due to a late flight and only arrived when the reception was half over. Gwen is the adopted daughter of your father-in-law. Her father was killed in Vietnam saving the General's life. Her mother had died leaving no other relative so General Donaldson adopted her and raised her as his own. That's a pretty decent thing to do. I don't get the Donaldsons. Gwen characterized them as perverts with a strong sense of patriotism and honor.

Normally, I'm not one for lesbianism but somehow the situation called for it. We went to Gwen's suite in the mansion, took a shower and the four of us curled up in her king sized comfortable bed. There was one of those flat panel screen televisions on the wall. At first, we were all two keyed up to sleep. Gwen loaded a hardcore lesbian DVD into the player, opened a drawer of dildos, vibrators, anal love beads, clit stimulators and butt plugs. It was quite a collection.

One of the DVDs was about this girl's first fisting. I'd never been fisted so I asked Gwen to fist fuck me and she obliged. She donned a pair of latex gloves and coved my cunt in a lubricant favored by lesbians. It's called Probe and it does slick up your hole so large objects slide right in.

Chloe joined in. Regine had gone to sleep with two big band-aids on the breasts. Gwen gave everyone a couple of Vicodin to get over the pain of the gang rape. I fisted Gwen and Chloe. That was a first for me. It's very erotic to have your entire hand inside a vagina and then have the same done to you. We fooled around until 3:00AM then curled up together and slept until mid afternoon.

After dressing, we met our three dates that had been looking for us all over the house. They like us looked considerably the worse for wear. We were all terribly hungry so we helped ourselves to the large buffet. The food was terrific. I felt like I was dining at the Four Seasons. We politely thanked our host and hostess and departed.

In summary, I can only say it was the most bizarre and outlandish wedding reception I could possibly imagine. Although the part with Gwen was pretty nice, the rest sucked. I persuaded Coleman to write an account of what happened to the guys. It's pretty sick but here it is.

Sister or not, Brooke is a bimbo airhead. We can all agree with that. Regine and Chloe are in the same IQ range. The stupid cunts got fucked half to death and never figured out it was a setup.

It's time for a little confession. At the start of the reception, I had the following conversation with Robbie and Trace.

"Rozz, Robbie and I invited our unit to the reception, it was sort of last minute," said Trace.

"You mentioned that already, your mom said there was plenty of food and booze for everyone," I replied.

"True, but, we're short on the other commodity, poontang," said Robbie.

"Other than call an escort service, what are our options," I asked?

"We were thinking Brooke and your other two bridesmaids might want to do their patriotic duty, they young and attractive," said Robbie. "I'd let Denise help out but at eight's month's pregnant."

"How many are they?" I asked.

"Twenty two I think. I'm not exactly sure," said Trace.

"Twenty two, you're talking about pulling a train, not pulling some soldier into a spare bedroom for a quickie," I said.

"So they wouldn't be up for it even after you explained how the much the guys have been through in Afghanistan," said Robbie.

"Why worry about whether they are up for it. Let's get them drunk along with their dates. Tell your guys to treat it as a commando operation. When they get a chance, take them inside. Tie them up like you do me Trace and fuck their brains out. Brooke pulled her first train when she was a sophomore in high school. Regine and Chloe are also experienced at gangbangs. Those girls have engaged in team sports before," I said.

"Their dates won't mind," said Robbie.

"I wouldn't worry about it," I said.

Of course at the time, I didn't realize that Trace would add me to the rape party or that the two brothers on that solemn day would do me together. I have only a vague memory of the two of them pulling me out from under the table and taking me inside.

Because it hurt like hell, I do recall that they managed to get both their cocks in my pussy and asshole. You're talking serious and painful stretching when the Donaldson brother's cocks are sharing your holes. Later, I learned it was all part on the male bonding process.

On our honeymoon, Trace explained how Special Ops soldiers were especially close with one another and sharing a wife or girl friend with a horny comrade-in-arms was considered the proper thing to do.

Simon got pictures of the whole thing. His assistant worked the other bedroom where Regine and Chloe were raped. Oh, by the way, Trace and I did pay for a doctor to reconstruct Regine's nipples. They looked as good as new when he was done.

Chapter 9– Sisterly Love 3

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

This is Coleman's side of the story. I laughed my ass off when I read it. Brooke is lucky to be rid of the pompous asshole.

I agreed to write this since Brooke and I have decided to remain friends even though we have ended our relationship as a couple. All I can say Rozz is that I nor Keith or Charles would have hard feeling toward you except for what happened to the three of us sometime after midnight. The dancing and goings on under the tent were wild but hell it was a wedding. We three guys had a great experience after we went into the Donaldson mansion but like I said what happened in the dungeon after the witching hour was not something I would ever want to repeat. Your new in-laws have a very outré idea of how to entertain guests.

Except for a few minor details I agree with Brooke's account of the time that the six of us were together enjoying dinner and dancing under the big tent. That grind dancing was hot, very hot. I practically blew my load when this red head captured by cock in her butt cheeks and worked it. Man could she work it. Forcing the women up on the table to get naked and dance was inspired and whether Brooke and Regine are willing to admit it or not, they had a good time doing the bump and grind for everybody.

Of course, you didn't see any of that since you were under the table passed out with two soldiers fucking your brains out. Most brides are faithful for at least twenty-four hours. What kind of a slut bride gets screwed at her wedding reception, Rozz?

I wasn't there for the girl's gang rape but I would have liked to see it. The three of them carry on like it was the end of the world. Those soldiers were just returned from that shithole called Afghanistan risking their lives to defend our country. Those bimbos should have been proud to give them a piece of ass as a way of saying thank you.

So they were a little rough. Who are you and Brooke kidding? We all know that the two of you prefer it that way. Those guys in the military are real animals when it comes to pussy. That's why you're married Trace who impresses me as a man's man. Rozz, if you're anything like your sister, you love being whipped and fucked preferably with audience participation.

What did those stupid bitches expect from trained killers. They're not programmed to ask politely for a piece of ass. They're programmed to rape and pillage. Let's face it. All we guys prefer rape. But it's those Special Ops guys who have the balls to make it happen. Putting on that uniform gives you a different perspective about the meaning of the word, 'No'.

I showed this to Keith and Charles and they're all right with it. However, they wouldn't want it getting out on the Internet or being published in some way. I'm counting on a little discretion is what I'm trying to say.

Once inside, Keith and I met Charlie wondering about on the second floor of the mansion. He had a bizarre story to tell.

He was walking the hall looking for some action when a bedroom door opened and this skinny little man stepped out and asked to talk. The guy was in his briefs. Charlie could look into the bedroom and he saw this pretty decent looking woman lying on the bed. She was naked and working her cunt with a vibrator.

"Young fellow, I need a favor," said the guy to Charlie.

"What?"

"I want you to fuck my wife?" said the guy.

"Why don't you fuck her?" said Charlie suspicious, his gaydar went on alert.

"I already have. But she wants me to eat her creampie."

"Creampie, what the fuck's that?"

"You never sucked a pussy full of another guy's jism."

"No." Charlie is a straight arrow.

"Well, that's called a creampie. I like creampies. Would you do me a favor and drop a load in Estelle's cunt? My wife's a hot piece of ass, everybody says so."

"Just with her, I'm not in anything bisexual," said Charlie.

"Understood, name's Frank," said the man extending his hand.

"Charlie,' said Charlie.

"This is Charlie, Estelle," said Frank as soon as they closed the bedroom door.

"Hi, Charlie, come over here and let me suck your cock," said Estelle all the while working her clit. Charlie said she had one of those big clits and thick pussy lips like women get when they play with themselves all the time.

Charlie walked over to the bed and stood there while Estelle unzipped his trousers. At that point she discovered Charlie's secret, nine and one half inches of extra thick cock with a large mushroom head. There's enough mushroom head there to keep small animals out of the rain. The shaft is covered with veins and when it's hard it has that angry red look that women adore. The length is exceptional but it's the girth that makes it rare according to Charlie. A woman has to wear a man's glove size to get her hand around it.

"Woman love the feeling of having their cunt stuffed to the point it's about to burst, expanding their hole right at the entrance is what really counts, that's where all the nerve endings are," was how Charlie put it. He should know.

Keith and I had seen grown women weep with joy when that king sized trouser snake made its appearance.

"God that's beautiful, come over here Frank, right this minute," said Estelle as she passed her tongue over Charlie's cock head.

"Yes, Estelle," said Frank in a weak voice as he approached the bed.

"See that Frank, that's a real cock, the kind a woman like me needs."

"Yes, Estelle, it's very large."

"You're fucking right it is, you Goddamn little wimp. Show Charlie that pathetic little dick of yours."

"I'd rather not," whined Frank.

"You do as you're told you dickless wonder or you'll never again have the strap on up that skinny butt of yours."

When he entered the room, Charlie had noticed the leather harness and the huge strap on dildo sitting on the nightstand. There was a partially used tube of K-Y beside it. Charlie flinched at the thought of something that large burrowing up his ass.

"I'm too embarrassed," whined Frank.

"You should be. Now drop your drawers so Charlie can see why I'm forced to let other men fuck me," said Estelle.

"Yes, Estelle," said Frank pulling down his briefs to expose a cock that Charlie judged was less than average.

"What do you think, Charlie, it's a tiny little weenie, right?"

"I don't want to be rude," said Charlie.

"Don't worry about it. Go ahead tell Frank what you think. You want to hear it, don't you Frank?"

"Yes, Estelle."

"It's smaller than average," said Charlie.

"Charlie's a gentleman. Face it, husband of mine, compared to Charlie, you're needle dick Frank, the bug fucker."

"You're right, Estelle," said Frank looking down. His eyes were starting to tear but his cock was getting hard.

"Of course, I'm right now kneel down and kiss Charlie's cock, you little worm," said Estelle.

"Hey, I said I'm not in any gay stuff," said Charlie.

"Just one kiss, that's all," said Estelle.

"Just one," said Charlie.

"You heard Charlie, plant a kiss right on the tip," said Estelle.

Charlie tensed up a little but Frank did as he was told and kissed the head of Charlie's cock. Charlie saw there were tears in Frank's eyes but he figured those were part of the drama.

"Lay down and relax, Charlie. Frank, sit on the edge of the bed and watch me suck Charlie's cock."

Estelle proved to be a talented cocksucker. She occasionally taunted Frank as she sucked Charlie.

"This is a real mouthful, not like that Popsicle stick of yours, Frank," said Estelle.

"I can't wait to shove this up my twat. I only wish your mother was here to see this. She told me your dad had an itsy bitsy penis and she had to take her satisfaction from the black gardener. You remember old Earl, don't you Frank."

"Yes, Estelle, he was with the family for many years," said Frank who was fisting his cock as he watched.

"I did old Earl once right after we got back from our honeymoon. He screwed me in that shed where he keeps his tools. Earl spread me out on a bag of Scott's Weed-Be-Gone and filled my pussy with his own brand of fertilizer," said Estelle.

"I remember you telling me about that, Estelle. You said he had a big cock," said Frank furiously masturbating.

"It was large, not as large as Charlie's here but it was a pussy stuffer. He did your mother there every Wednesday afternoon. Then she'd go back in the house and make your dad lie on the floor with his mouth open while she straddled him. Your daddy loved chocolate cream pies, didn't he Frank?"

"Yes, Estelle, he looked forwards to Wednesdays."

"Watch me choke on Charlie's dick, Frank," said Estelle forcing Charlie's cock into her throat until she choked and gagged. Drool seeped over her chin when she was forced to remove it.

"See me stuff that big sausage in my throat and choke. That's what a real man can do to a woman like me."

"Yes, Estelle."

"Keep jerking that mini-meat of yours Frank while I get a real fucking," said Estelle climbing up on Charlie.

Estelle applied a liberal dose of K-Y to Charlie's shaft then handed the tube to Frank.

"Lube my cunt up, Frank, so I can fuck Charlie. Any man who helps another man to fuck his wife isn't a real man at all, is he Frank?"

"You're right, Estelle. I'm pathetic,' said Frank squirting the lubricant first on his hand the working it into Estelle's vagina.

"I'm ready," said Estelle bringing her feet under her to squat over Charlie's erect cock. She parted her labia with one hand while using the other to position his cock head at her entrance.

"Watch Frank, watch your wife's pussy take this great big dick," said Estelle lowering herself slight to take the cockhead just inside the entrance.

The sheer size of Charlie's cock stopped her for moment.

"Oh fuck I'm in love, you married Charlie?" said Estelle her face grimacing as in-by-inch she forced Charlie's cock inside. Charlie shook his head no in answer to Estelle's question.

"I'm going to divorce Frank and marry you. I'm very rich," said Estelle.

"I'm staying single for now," said Charlie.

"Don't blame you. With a cock like that, you must have a line of sluts all waiting for their turn."

"I do all right."

"Frank on the other hand can't get a piece of ass unless he pays for it. Can you Frank?"

"Yes, Estelle I have to pay," said Frank.

"He's got this little black street whore he visits on Monday. What's her name, Frank?"

"Senora," said Frank.

"Senora, funny name for a whore," said Estelle. "Frank didn't think I knew about his little black bitch until last month, right Frank?"

"Yes Estelle, I thought you didn't know about her."

"I had her come over and bring her pimp and two friends of his. Tell Charlie what happened, Frank."

"I watched while you and Senora fucked them," said Frank.

"And afterwards?"

"I ate your creampies," said Frank.

"It was Frank's birthday I wanted to do something special," said Estelle as she forced the last two inches of Charlie's cock inside her.

"Oh shit, now that's what I call a dick," said Estelle when her bottom was resting on Charlie's groin.

"See Frank how it stretches my hole, pushing deeper than your little peepee has ever been," said Estelle as she began rocking back and forth.

"Oh Goddamn that feels fine. Charlie's a real man, not like you Frank. If you had Charlie's cock, I wouldn't need to go out night after night and fuck all those men with big cocks."

The strangeness of the scene turned Charlie on. He felt some sympathy for Frank that fueled his desire to give Estelle a good pounding. He rolled over on top of Estelle grabbed her legs to bend her double and gave her a good thirty slam pumps.

"I wanted to get the bitch so sore she walked bowlegged for a month," was how Charlie expressed it.

Then he flipped her over and took her dog style. He used his thumbs to force her anus open as he pummeled her rear. He forced her flat against the bed and reached one hand underneath her and dug his nails into her areola.

"But I was just kidding myself, she was one of those bitches that the harder you fuck them the more they like it," said Charlie later when we were discussing your wedding, Rozz. You and Brooke could certainly claim an affinity with Estelle. I've seen the two of you begging to be used like a pig slut.

Estelle was one of those women that focused her entire being on the cock inside her. She cursed, groaned, grunted, and begged for more until Charlie emptied his balls in her pussy. Charlie rolled off breathing heavily.

"Come her sweetie and get your creampie while its fresh," said Estelle spreading her legs as Frank leaped between them. He had a look of pure delight on his face.

Charlie watched as Frank eagerly slipped his tongue into Estelle's vagina to nosily scoop up Charlie's semen and swallow it.

"That's right, Frank baby, Charlie put a big load in there for my darling husband to suck out," cooed Estelle to Frank.

Charlie watched for a while unable to comprehend the scene then silently rose, dressed and slipped away.

"Thanks, Charlie," yelled Frank as Charlie closed the bedroom door behind him.

"Yea, Charlie, come visit us in Westport," added Estelle. "Our daughter would love to meet you."

"It was just so fucking weird," was how Charlie summed it up.

"Nothing happening here, let's try the third floor," Keith suggested after we had walked around finding the bedrooms mostly empty.

The sound of girlish giggles drew us to the corner bedroom of the third floor. We quietly opened the door. There were five young girls sitting in a circle on the floor. How young I refuse to say and for that matter I didn't ask. I can only note that a couple of them had little animals on their cotton panties and their breasts had that puffy little girl look that we grown men adore. There wasn't a woman's tit in the bunch. I'd guess junior high. I know there are laws about the age of consent but there were things going on in that place that made you think there were no rules.

They were smoking a joint passing it around using a roach clip. The girls were still dressed in their wedding best except for one of them who was wearing only a thong panty and a bra. The totally odd thing was that a completely nude adult male was passed out on a nearby couch. He looked to be middle aged and he was gonzo.

"Private party," one of the girls yelled. The other girls thought that was hilarious but you know how marijuana affects kids.

"All right," I said starting to close the door.

"You guys got any weed?" asked the girl who was semi-dressed. She turned out to be the alpha female of the group. Her name was Leslie.

"Sure do, the finest genetically modified product hydroponically grown in Vancouver, BC. It's THC level is off the scale," said Keith reaching in his pocket to extract a sizeable Ziploc bag of 420. As we all know, Keith goes to considerable effort and expense to import only the most potent weed.

"No fucking way, you're lying," said Leslie who had hopped up to rush over and examine Keith's stash. The fact that Leslie didn't hesitate to rush over to three strange males dressed in her undies impressed me.

Keith unlocked the Ziploc allowing Leslie to take a deep inhale of the contents. I stood there with Charlie admiring her skinny young ass and wondering just how tight her holes were. Leslie was tall, skinny as a rail with boyish hips. The bra seemed superfluous.

"Shit, that's for real," exclaimed Leslie after taking a deep inhalation of the bag's contents.

"How would you know?" said this petite blonde angel whose name was Mimsie. That was a nickname for something. I can't recall what.

"Mimsie, this shit you bought sucks, we can't get high off this," said one of the others who name was Samantha or Sam and she was the pudgy one of the five, not really fat, more like baby fat. God they were so fucking young it got me horny. Charlie was eying Leslie like he was ready to rape her. She was taller than the rest with curly black hair. I was dying to know what kind of bush she had under that thong. The front of the thong contained the words, 'eye candy'.

"If we let you stay, will you let us smoke your weed," said Leslie?

"That depends, we want to party," said Keith who knew what he wanted to bargain for but couldn't quite say it to a girl so young.

"Party, you mean you are expecting to fuck us if you give us some of your dope?" said Leslie in that teasing little girl voice that was getting me hard.

"Yea, kind of," replied Keith. I answered wondering why there were no girls in my junior high like Leslie.

"Guys, these gentlemen will let us smoke their dope if we agree to fuck them, what does everybody think?" announced Leslie to the group. She spoke in a way you'd expect a leader to speak.

"You can't expect someone to give you quality dope without expecting something in return," said Mimsie thoughtfully. They were obviously playing us.

"There's just one problem, right Corrine," said Samantha. She was speaking to a freckled faced red headed girl that had the face of one of those teenage movie stars. She was the beauty of the bunch. Corrine looked sheepish like she knew she was about to be embarrassed.

"What's wrong with Corrine? She looks pretty cute to me," I said. That occasioned some smirks and giggles from the other four. But Corrine smiled at my remark. Women are such competitive cunts. You complement a guy in front of his buds and they all feel good for him. Do the same for a girl and her so-called friends do their best to cut her down. That happens whether they're in junior high or a senior citizens home.

"Corrine's a virgin," said Mimsie who I gathered was the resident bitch.

"Her Uncle Lucius was going to deflower her but he drank too much and passed out. We can't wake him up," said Leslie matter of factly as she stepped over to the couch took Lucius's limp cock in one hand gave it a couple of strokes to illustrate its hopeless condition then released it.

I intuited that the five had gathered to watch Corrine's Uncle Lucius take her virginity but her idiot uncle had consumed too much of the 1996 and was dead to the world. What a loser! How would you like to wake up and find out you had missed the opportunity to take your cute little niece's cherry while her girl friends watched.

"I'd be glad to substitute for Uncle Lucius if it's all right with Corrine," I offered. I got another big smile from Corrine. You would have thought that having her cherry busted was on her must do list for that day.

"So, here's the deal, your dope for our pussy," said Leslie producing a Laredo roller and a packet of EZ-Wider papers from one of those plastic backpacks that kids lug around with them. She was trying to sound grown up as she spoke. I thought it was a hell of a way to put things for someone her age.

"That's the deal," I replied taken back at her blunt way of stating it.

The other girls quickly murmured their assent to the quid pro quo. My God I thought a girl had to reach college age before she was ready to do the nasty for a couple of tokes.

"Let's get naked," said Leslie reaching back to unhook her bra as she walked back to the circle. The thong came off too and she tossed it over toward the couch where it landed on Uncle Lucius.

Keith later remarked that Leslie changed his entire outlook toward what made a woman sexy.

"No womanly hips, almost non existent boobs, flat butt, long thin thighs, I got an instant hardon, I wondered if I was secretly gay, Leslie looked like a boy and I wanted to fuck her so bad my dick hurt," said Keith.

The other four looked around at each other and at Leslie who was busily feeding grass into the Laredo roller. There was just a moment's hesitation before they followed their leader.

Mary Janes were kicked off, leggings pulled down, short little skirts and dresses removed along with their under things. In less than a minute, I was standing there with my mouth open looking at five naked pieces of jailbait.

My cock was hard as a rock. Corrine's pussy was decorated with a tiny swath of red hair. I'm going to eat her cute little snatch and then fuck her I told myself. Even Samantha, the overweight one looked good to me. I was wondering if I had the stamina to fuck all five of them. We had been too busy watching to undress ourselves.

"Well, let's see what you got," said Leslie standing there legs apart about to light a freshly rolled joint.

From my perspective this speaks for itself. Enough said. Read on.

Chapter 10– Sisterly Love 4

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

This is more of Coleman's bullshit. He wrote more than Brooke. The guy should take up writing porn.

Weed makes college girls horny and uninhibited but it also makes them sleepy. Too much weed and booze after a nice dinner and your average twenty something needs eight hours sleep and a bowl of Wheaties to restart her libido. But there is a different rule for the junior high crowd. Their energy levels are so elevated they don't get sleepy but they sure get horny. I mean the kind of horny that if a hard cock isn't available they attack the doorknobs.

Leslie directed us to sit in a circle. There I was sitting on the floor Indian fashion with a naked girl on each side. If there had not been the potential for underage sex I would have felt like an idiot. Corrine's hand was on my thigh inching its way toward my cock. I never saw a girl so anxious to lose her cherry and get her name on the honor roll of slutdom.

Leslie rolled six absolutely perfect joints. They looked like something made by Martha Stewart. She lighted two of the joints and we started passing them around.

The girls had gone gaga over Charlie's cock. They had gotten into an argument over who would first get it in their pussy. Two rounds of rock-paper-scissors settled the question of who got to fuck Charlie first. Corrine the virgin was excluded from the competition. She was my assignment.

The winner was Natalie a petite little blonde who hadn't said much up to that point. However after showing paper to Leslie's rock she sat her little naked butt down in Charlie's lap and wrapped her arms around his neck and French kissed him to claim her prize. The fact that Charlie's cock fully erect would reach very far inside little Natalie did not seem to concern anybody. I remember watching a porn film where a black guy with a fifteen-inch cock fucked a midget. I suppose God gifted women with a fathomless pussy. If it reaches the top of their head it must coil around in their empty skull like a snake.

I kept thinking I was in some sort of champagne induced dream and would wake up any minute on the floor with one of the Donaldson's Labrador Retriever licking my face. Keith's dope gets you very high fast. I needed that because I was experiencing a tiny level of discomfort at the prospect of committing five counts of a serious felony having to do with the age of consent.

"Okay, you two get in the center and do it," said Leslie referring to Corrine and me.

I objected at first. I'd pictured Corrine and I sneaking off to an empty bedroom for the solemn event but this group was voyeuristic. Even Keith and Charlie agreed with Leslie that my popping Corrine's cherry was something they all needed to watch. Corrine announced her concurrence with her peers. Well when you think of it how often do you get to watch a young virgin be deflowered by an older man?

"Do me right on here on the floor, Coleman. I want everyone to see," said the horny little naïf.

Corrine promptly crawled into the center of the circle spread her legs wide and grabbed the outside edges of her feet to pull them back and out. There it was spread before me, the Holy Grail of male desire, an untrammeled snatch that no man had ever been inside.

"Bust her open and make her bleed," encouraged Leslie the sweet young thing.

Regardless of Leslie's suggestion that I be brutal and quick, I wanted to take my time and savor the experience. I moved slowly and deliberately between Corrine's legs, placed my mouth on her pussy that smelled strongly of strawberries and proceeded to give the best cunnilingus I knew how. If I was going to perform in public, I was going to demonstrate my best techniques.

Unlike Keith and Charlie I love to eat pussy. The taste and smell combined with how it reacts when you lick it rings my bell. Plus I'm a born finger fucker. I may not be mega-endowed like Charlie or be able to fuck all night like Keith but my mouth has brought some of womankind to a place that no other man has taken them.

The other six leaned in to watch as I applied my oral skills to the small area bordered by Corrine's love button and her pink little anus. Corrine demonstrated remarkable flexibility. She pulled her legs even further back and interlocked her ankles behind her neck and relaxed. Before I met Brooke, I dated a Hatha Yoga instructor who could do that. All I can say is that for a man who likes to eat pussy and ass it is an incredible turn on.

I tongue fucked her vagina and then her anus while my fingers stimulated her clit. There was a very stimulating and enlightening conversation coming from the onlookers.

"Oh, he's tonguing her asshole, that's so sweet," said Natalie from her position in Charlie's lap. Her small hand was wrapped possessively around his manhood stroking it.

"I want Coleman to do me next," said Samantha. "See the way he tongues around not on her clit. That's the way all the lesbians say to do it."

"Samantha never gets head at home," said Mimsie. "All her brothers do is make her suck their cock and swallow their jism."

"Kevin eats me out when I ask him to. You're just jealous because I have three older brothers to fuck me, " said Samantha defensively.

"My mother says women give the best head," said Natalie.

"Your mother's a dyke," said Mimsie.

"She's bi," responded Natalie.

"It's better with a guy because after they get you off with their mouth, they can stick their penis in you. Girls can't do that," said Samantha.

"Unless they have a dildo," said Mimsie.

I caught snatches of this conversation as I ate Corrine's snatch. Little Corinne started sweating and moaning and pinching her little titties as I methodically hauled her roller coaster car up the magic mountain. I worked a finger in her pussy to stretch her out. I was astounded that her well still had its cap. But one joint deep on my index finger I pressed against that membrane named after the Greek God of Marriage. I pressed harder and Corrine made a little squeak like a mouse.

This is going to be classic I told myself, possibly a once in a lifetime event. My cock looked huge compare to her opening. Getting the tip of my index finger inside took spit and pressure. It's a good thing Charlie was not going first; he would have split her open like a melon.

Corrine had the aptitude for what we men call a noisy fuck. Loud moans and grunts, little cries of 'work that pussy', and frequent repetition of the word, 'shit' were part of her sound effects.

My index finger sensed the involuntary contraction of the muscles located just inside her entrance. I took that as the signal that her orgasm was imminent. I doubled the pace of my tongue, licked the index finger on my other hand and pushed it past her sphincter. Timing is everything when you're working to get a girl off. My finger slid inside Corrine's A-hole at the exact right moment.

That occasioned some very loud, "oh shit yes," outcries that could have easily been heard throughout the third floor. Corrine sailed down the steep side of the mountain screaming her favorite curse word her hands forcing my face against her still virgin pussy.

As Corrine enjoyed her climax, I felt a hand touch my shoulder and when I turned to look Leslie was handing me a plastic bottle of K-Y Warming Lubricant, a newly introduced product that I had not yet tried.

I flicked open the top and applied a healthy squirt to my rock hard cock. I directed another squirt into Corrine's vagina. Feeling that it was important to enter her before her orgasm had completely subsided, I placed my rod at the entry point and pushed inward.

It took a surprising number of foot-pounds of force to travel the distance from the top of the hole to her hymen. Corrine's previously tightly shut eyes popped open as she realized that there was a big nasty cock inside her and it felt like someone was stuffing twenty pounds of shit in her five-pound bag. As for me, it was bordering on the painful. I know tight pussy is the apotheosis of fucking but there can be such a thing as too tight. Corrine was making little shrieks as I tried to gain another inch or so and explode past that thin sheet of flesh that was proving remarkably resilient. The expression on her face read, "you are killing me with that cock, motherfucker, don't you give a rat's ass that you are splitting me wide open?"

Still, with a jury of her peers about, she seemed unwilling to give up. I decided to do the gentlemanly thing and withdraw.

"Let me try a different angle," I said rising up slightly. I felt something between my butt cheeks. I looked over my shoulder to see Leslie standing over me with one foot firmly pressed against my anus. In fact, she had applied some lubricant to her big toe and managed to poke it inside my asshole. One day that little bitch is going to make some lucky bastard's life a living hell.

"All the way, Coleman, all the way," said Leslie giving me a look of pure malicious enjoyment as she pressed down on my ass. I gave in to gravity and Leslie. My cock pushed against Corrine's hymn with real force.

"Take it out, motherfucker," screamed the shy little princess writing underneath me in real pain.

Thankfully, the flesh gave way under my assault and my cock proceeded to both traverse and expand her vagina in one swift motion. A loud and piteous scream escaped Corrine's mouth as she threw her head back and howled. My pubic mound touched down on Corrine's signaling that she was skewered to the maximum of my ability. Corrine's eyes rolled back in her head almost freaking me out.

Once again, I made an effort to rise up only to be forced down by Leslie's big toe that was more or less in my asshole. She practically stomped my butt down causing Corrine to scream once more but not as loud.

"She's hurting," I said to Leslie. I could feel her warm blood bathing my cock

"Don't be such a wuss, Coleman, nobody ever died from being deflowered," said Leslie.

"Fuck the bitch," added a totally high Keith who had pulled Mimsie into his lap so he could suck on her tiny little boobies.

Having ascertained that Corrine was still breathing I relaxed and decided to quit worrying about my partner. My cock was inside an extremely young and tight pussy and the intelligent thing was to enjoy myself. I established a regular rhythm designed to maximize my own personal pleasure. I fucked Corrine in several different variations of the missionary positions including holding her ankles and bending them well back over her head. Keith's weed was the kind that made you last awhile. After a period of hard pounding sufficient to maintain my reputation as a stud, I released my own full load of semen. My last release had been in Brooke's cunt the night before so my tank was full.

Corrine regained consciousness as I took those several final strokes intended to unload the last drop from your balls. She came awake in a positive frame of mind about her situation. They say a girl always remembers her first time. I certainly won't forget Corrine's

"Oh that feels so good, I hope we've made a baby," said Corrine as I squirted the last of my semen inside her blood soaked cunt.

"Your mom would make you get rid of it," said Leslie.

"Maybe not, she loves babies," said Corrine who had once again wrapped her legs around me and tilted her uterus up to facilitate the passage of my warriors toward her unfertilized egg. She grabbed her feet with her hands and elevated her rear. I remember wondering where she had learned that.

"Wouldn't it be fun, if we all got pregnant together?" said Natalie.

No one had mentioned birth control or safe sex up to that point and I hadn't wanted to be a party pooper and bring it up. I didn't have any condoms with me anyway although I would have bet that Leslie could pull some pre-lubes from her backpack.

"We're next, you lay down and I'll get on top," said Natalie to Charlie. Leslie had established an order of intercourse and with her peers whatever Leslie said was law.

Corrine and I rejoined the circle although Corrine insisted in lying on her back with her bottom tilted upward in hopes of making me a father.

"It's too big to suck. I can't get it in my mouth," said Natalie licking around the head of Charlie's cock. "Pull your legs up Charlie so I can lick your asshole."

I watched as Natalie engaged in foreplay with Charlie. Charlie's cock looked ready to me foreplay or not.

Samantha reached between my legs to stroke my bloody and softening cock.

"They say virgin blood has magical properties," said Samantha taking her blood streaked hand to her mouth and licking it.

I hate to admit it but these junior high girls were way beyond me in terms of sexual sophistication. I can't imagine what it must be like to be raised in the Donaldson family.

Natalie had completed foreplay on Charlie and was squatting over his prone body positioning his pecker just inside her entrance. Charlie's cock was covered in K-Y and Natalie had stuck the neck of the plastic bottle inside her cunt and given it a squeeze. They were definitely well lubricated.

"On three," said Natalie taking a deep breath them counting one then two before allowing her legs to fly out under her.

Charlie latter told me it was one of the more gutsy things he had ever witnessed.

"Most girls take my cock real slow to give their pussies times to get used to it. The crazy little bitch went all the way to my balls in one motion. It was fucking awesome."

I was impressed that a ninety-pound girl was willing and able to accommodate Charlie without rupturing her vital organs. Her descent halted two thirds of the way down. She immediately used her feet to raise herself several inches before once again taking full advantage of ninety pounds of gravity to reach maximum penetration.

"Does it hurt?" asked Mimsie.

'Fuck yes it hurts," said Natalie starting to raise and slowly lower herself. There was a trickle of blood running down her inner thigh. Charlie reached up to twist her nipples. Samantha got a wet towel out of the bathroom to clean the blood off my cock. As soon as it was clean, she started sucking it. Mimsie came over to help Samantha and I relaxed as they restored my erection.

Keith and Leslie decided not to wait. Leslie had Keith under control. Keith likes to brag he doesn't go down but when Leslie suggested they begin in the sixty-nine position he laid down on his back like a well-trained circus dog.

Over the next two hours, I managed to bang the five of them although by the time I blew my load in number five I was pretty out of it. One thing we three agreed upon later was that Leslie was one wild piece of ass. At one point, she took on all three of us. Charlie took her cunt the only hole he could fit in. The other four darlings masturbated and watched as we penetrated all of Leslie's orifices. We're not small men and Leslie was maybe one hundred ten pounds on a five foot nine frame. How can a rail thin girl like that contain three large pieces of man meat and get her rocks off. My cock was in her ass when she hit her big O and you could feel her entire body convulsing as she contracted every muscle in her body. Sweat was pouring off her like she was in a sauna too. My God it was both awesome and terrible.

Leslie was a pig slut too. She enthusiastically performed ass to mouth when she had Keith and I switch from butthole to mouth hole several times. You have to respect a junior high student who'll suck a cock that two seconds ago was deep inside her shitter. Previously someone had dumped their load in her butt and we are talking about sucking a hot cock freshly stained with jism and shit.

At the end of two hours, the three of us were pussy whipped. At some point, Leslie announced she was ordering pizza. She picked up the house phone and made a call.

Rozz, I was smoking dope and fucking like a billy goat when your mother-in-law Lois and sister-in-law Mary Ellen arrived with a cart containing pizza, soda, and beer. I was so out of it I ignored the presence of Lois and Mary Ellen although I did notice that Leslie and the two older women were conferring about something.

They left after a while. Somebody handed me a cold beer and slice of pepperoni pizza and I ate it while persons unremembered sucked my cock. I vaguely recall Lois asking me how I enjoyed the wedding. Isn't that surreal? There I was fucking Mimsie at least I think it was Mimsie, and Lois is there asking me what I though of the service at the cathedral as I pound away. When you think about it that was bizarre with a capital B.

I got groggy. Maybe there was something in the beer. Maybe I was just blotto from weed and teen pussy. The last I recall is these two huge men coming into the room picking me up and putting me on a hospital gurney. I remember being wheeled on the elevator and that was it for the upstairs part of my story.

The best is yet to come. Coleman and his buddies are subjected to a femdom training session. God how I wish I could have been there.

Chapter 11– Sisterly Love 5

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

This is the part I really enjoyed reading. I only wish I had been there to see it in person and contribute.

A sharp prick in my inner thigh startled me from my unconscious state. Man was I fucked up. Dope and young pussy will do that to you.

"Twenty CCs of adrenalin will wake them up. There's no point in playing with them if they're unconscious," someone said.

I felt a cool touch where the prick had been moments before and the smell of alcohol entered my nostrils. I recalled being told that the Donaldson women included a number of trained army nurses. Rozz, what's the point of healing them by day if you plan to torture the shit out of them at night?

The adrenalin had an immediate effect. I regained consciousness and opened my eyes. The sight that greeted them made me want to close them and start screaming my lungs out; but I was still too blown away from Keith's high-octane weed for that.

I was on my back looking up toward a high ceiling. For whatever reasons, I knew I was in a basement. Maybe it was the floor joists in the overhead or the rough stone floor or just the look and smell of the place. Or as Charlie said, the place was a fucking dungeon and we all know dungeons are in the basement.

I was stretched out on a flat surface made of rough wood. My arms were pulled straight over my head. My feet were drawn in the opposite direction. And when I say stretched I mean there was serious tension. I felt like my arms were being ripped out of their sockets and my hip sockets felt the same. The odd part was that there was something in the small of my back that elevated my middle higher than my hands of feet. When I glanced downward, I found myself looking at the top of my belly. I was not comfortable.

"So what is Coleman on?" spoke a familiar voice.

"This is the General's rack. It's an exact copy of one found in a French chateau, circa 1450," said a woman's voice.

"What does circa mean, Mrs. Donaldson?" said a voice I recognized as Corrine's.

"About or approximately, when it not possible to know the exact date, we used the term circa to mean about that date or approximately that date. And please when we are in here, you can call me Lois and that's Denise and Mary Ellen," said Lois.

Rozz, I turned my head to see your mother-in-law dressed in what I would describe as a dominatrix outfit created by Versace. I never thought it was possible to look stylish and S&M at the same time until I met your female in laws. Brooke told me you were into S&M and I looked around for you but you weren't there. Probably still upstairs making sure that every male wedding guest got to fuck the bride. Hey, Rozz, doesn't that mean you owe me a piece of tail. None of the three of us got a crack at you and it appears that everyone else did from what Brooke said. Of course, I didn't fuck Brooke either and she pulled quite a train from what I hear.

There was more going on than I could process. Lois was talking to Leslie, Mimsie, Natalie, Samantha, and Corrine. The five were dressed identically in long mid thigh black leather laced high-heeled boots and leather micro-mini skirt that was slit up to the side revealing a matching leather thong. They were topless not that anyone but Samantha had even a decent swelling let alone a tit. Their hair was pulled back like they were headed to ballet class. Plenty of makeup had been applied. Bright red lips and a thick coat of mascara gave them a sexy street walker look that made me want to get it up and fuck them all again.

However I was stretched out like a rubber band about to break and could not move an eyelid without considerable effort.

"So what's a rack for?" asked Mimsie.

"Torture," responded Lois who had reached over to put her hands on my cock. She started stroking it. For an older broad she had a nice touch.

"How," asked Corrine?

"You stretched a person until you dislocated the joints. A person who had been broken on the rack was just as good as dead given the level of medical care in the middle ages," said Lois. "Barry, demonstrate the rack for the girls."

At that point, one of the two body builder types who had carried the three off us downstairs stepped forward and inserted a huge wooden handle in the sprocket wheel at the end of the rack. I got a good look at Barry for the first time. His biceps were bigger than my thighs. He was wearing boots, leather shorts that exposed half of his butt cheeks and a leather harness around his chest. I couldn't decide if he looked S&M or gay, maybe both.

"Just a quarter turn," said Lois.

Barry pushed the lever and I screamed. I tend to do that when someone is dislocating my joints.

"Jesus, Lois, please, for the love of God, no more," I yelled when I found enough breath.

"Coleman, I'm Mistress Lois to you, you are not to speak to me unless I address you. But scream as much as you want. Barry a half turn for his insolence," said Mistress Lois.

Barry's sinews tightened, the lever moved, the tension in the chains increased and I screamed as loud as my vocal chords allowed.

"Do you understand me now or do you want a full turn, Coleman?" said Mistress Lois.

Who would have imagined that the General's wife that sweet little lady with the stylish clothes and perfect hair was a torturer?

"Yes, Mistress Lois," I replied marveling at how much smarter that three quarters of a turn had made me.

"So are we going to break Coleman on the rack?' asked Mimsie seemingly interested in seeing me tortured to death.

"No, Mimsie, we can't do that. The French also used the rack for water torture. As I told you girls, during tonight's lesson we are going to go over two types of water torture plus some other skills that a good mistress needs," said Mistress Lois.

"Mother, we better get started if we are going to cover everything we planned," said Mary Ellen coming into my limited view.

Rozz, your new sister in law looked mighty tasty in that leather corset with her round little knockers spilling out the top and that totally shaved pussy showing below. I liked the way she accessorized too, lots of spiky metal ornaments and that crazy makeup. She looked like she had a hot date with Satan.

"Yes, you're right Mary Ellen, girls, you know what comes next," said Mistress Lois.

What came next was sucking my cock. I could not see which of the two dominatrices in training did me but I could tell from their voices it was Mimsie and Natalie. For the first time I looked to my left and saw Charlie suspended slightly off the ground in an ultra modern looking piece of torture machinery. It was all chrome and leather. It looked like something that came out of a German design house. Charlie's arms were outstretched like he had been crucified. But instead of nails, leather straps secured his arms to a padded cross member. A wide leather band across his forehead immobilized his head to the center post.

The reason I hadn't heard anything from Charlie was the rounded leather bit that held his mouth open and secured his head to the center post. Charlie looked like he very much wanted to speak but that option was unavailable.

Charlie's long legs were secured to movable arms that raised or lowered his legs. A high tech control panel that rose out of the floor governed the contraption. There was a joystick that resembled the one on my little brother's X-Box. Mistress Mary Ellen was making some adjustments to the height and orientation of Charlie's cock so that Leslie could comfortably give him head. That machine could move Charlie's body through horizontal, vertical, and rotational planes all at the same time. Effectively, he could be placed in almost any position from standing straight up to upside down with his legs wide apart. The women had a lot of fun with Charlie and his big cock in that machine.

Keith was secured to a much simpler device that resembled one of those bull-riding machines you used to find in a Country and Western bar. But instead of sitting upright he was laying face down on the bull's back with his arms chained around the bull's belly. Keith's butt was hanging off the back with his cock and balls dangling off the recessed end. Mary Ellen was using a remote control to demonstrate that she could spin the bull through a full turn, raise or lower it, and tilt Keith to raise his ass or his head depending on their preference. Keith was also gagged and unable to comment on his situation. At the moment, he was butt up and Samantha and Corrine were standing at his rear putting their fingers in his ass and sucking his cock.

Mimsie and Natalie were skilled cocksuckers and I was hard as a rock in no time but they weren't there to swallow my load. Right before I was ready to pop, I heard Mistress Lois whisper, "Now" and felt a rawhide bootlace being tied around my cock and balls cutting off all chance of blowing my load or losing my hardon. It hurt like all hell. I think half of all the blood in my body was trapped in my dick.

"Get that fucking thing off my nuts," I screamed.

"One more outburst like that and I'll let Barry make you six inches taller," warned Mistress Lois.

In spite of the pain, I mentally committed myself to shutting my mouth and keeping it shut. I heard slight commotions on the other side of the room and looked over to see Charlie's big whang standing tall with a strip of rawhide at the base. Keith's was pointing toward the floor and I could see a spider web of pre-cum dripping off the tip. The three of us were fully erect and would stay that way until some sympathetic soul untied us.

"Making sure a male sub stays hard for the full session is very important," said Mistress Lois to her charges.

At that moment I got my first look at the third member of the adult instructors. Man did she look hot with that big belly. After that night I'm dying to fuck a pregnant woman.

Denise's pregnancy precluded the corset and the high heel boots. I suppose Pea in a Pod or the other maternity stores didn't have her size in dominatrices wear because outside of a pair of cross trainers she was totally naked. Oh did I want to fuck her in the worst way. Her tits were huge milk jugs and you could even see the milk glands that the next Donaldson yard ape would be sucking on. I'd love my chance to suck the milk out of her tits as I fucked that hole that junior's head would soon travel.

Denise was standing beside Keith with her big belly hanging out. It's just downright erotic when a woman's navel goes from being an innie to an outtie. I recall someone telling me she was eight months. I guess her doctor had not mentioned refraining from torturing anyone the last trimester because she was slowly twisting Keith's nuts as Samantha and Corrine watched. After Denise had demonstrated her technique, Corrine grabbed hold and took Keith's nuts through a three sixty that he would have verbally commented upon except for the gag in his mouth. You could tell from the way he violently jerked and twisted that he wanted to say something. Samantha took her turn torturing Keith's balls before a summons from Mistress Lois brought everyone back to me.

Denise appeared at my side holding what I can only describe as a tall plexi-glass funnel with measurement markings on the side. The funnel top was quite wide. There was flexible tubing attached to the bottom. Immediately above the tubing was a stopcock or valve that would keep the funnel's contents from draining out. It looked like something you would find in a college chemistry lab.

The five students had gathered to watch something and I could tell it involved me. Lois held the funnel and pinched my nostrils shut. When I opened my mouth to breathe, Denise fed the flexible tubing down my esophagus. You throat's automatically programmed to swallow whatever it encounters and my throat managed to take the tube all the way to my stomach. That's a weird feeling. Nurse and Mistress Denise checked her work while Lois fitted the funnel into a metal stand that held it upright directly over my head.

The thought immediately came to me that they were going to pour something in that funnel and it would end up in my belly. The question was what were they going to pour although I assumed it would be water since Mistress Lois had told the girls that tonight's lesson involved water torture. Man was I wrong.

Mistress Mary Ellen appeared with two blocks of wood that attached to the rack and immobilized my head. Mistress Lois delivered her lecture.

"Forced ingestion of water was a frequent form of punishment and torture during the Middle Ages. I might also add it was a favorite of the Gestapo in the occupied countries especially Holland where it was frequently employed to gain information from the resistance. In medieval France, a wrong doer would be sentenced to ingest thirteen pints of water and to have their abdomen scourged. If the miscreant were female and attractive, she would likely be stripped naked and lead through the town tied to a cart. That would allow all the towns people to see her and witness her humiliation. Boys would rush out and feel her sex to humiliate her further."

"When she arrived at the town square, she would be restrained similar to what we have done here with Coleman. A metal funnel would be forced into her mouth and the thirteen pints poured into her belly. The dungeon master would then apply fifty or more strokes to her swollen belly. After that, the dungeon master would roll her over on her stomach and stand on her back to force her to regurgitate the water. If she was still alive, she was allowed to go home to her family. Any questions?"

"Why is Coleman's tummy pushed up?" asked Mimsie.

"Putting a block under Coleman's back puts even greater tension on his abdomen thereby increasing his pain."

"When we are done I want to stand on Coleman's back and make him spew," said Samantha. "I'm the largest."

"Of course, Samantha" said Lois. "Now we have some refinements over the traditional French mode. Barry, bring the scaffold," said Lois.

I could see out of the corner of my eye that Barry was wheeling over an odd-looking aluminum stairs. It was shaped like a pyramid and straddled the rack. He rolled it to where it was directly over my head, checked the position then locked the wheels.

"All right, girls one by one," said Mistress Lois.

Corrine daintily held Barry's hand as she carefully climbed the stairs, squatted down over the wide end of the funnel, reached down to pull her thong aside and let go with a strong squirt of dark yellow piss that landed in the funnel mouth. I looked up at her sex that I had so recently fucked as her urethra sprayed into the glass. The sound of her piss landing in the funnel mouth would ordinarily have been a turn on. I like to watch girl's pee. Brooke will let me watch her take a whiz and I like to put my hand in her stream and feel its warmth. If I've had a few drinks, I've been known to lick the drops off my fingers. However that was a sampling. This was going to be a meal.

The fact that Corrine was so willing to personally humiliate me was a surprise. Her lack of gratitude to the man that deflowered her I took to be a serious character flaw in one so young. Only a few hours ago, I had eaten her out and fucked her to a righteous orgasm and this was how she was thanking me.

I expected to feel the body temperature liquid enter my throat but when that failed to happen, I realized that the stop cock was closed and that the dark yellow fluid was poised inches above my gullet.

"I held it just like you said," said Corinne to Lois delivering more urine than I would have though possible for a person her size. Weed makes your piss dark and smelly too.

Mimsie and then the rest followed Corrine. In spite of the fact they were sweet young teenagers they could piss like horses. It was foul pee that slowly filled the funnel. The thought that would soon be inside my stomach was downright scary.

"A little over 1.5 litters," said Lois examining the markings that measured the liquid in the funnel.

"Watch carefully," said Lois to her trainees as she turned the stopcock to the on position.

I immediately felt the warm liquid reach my stomach. My abdomen began to swell what a fucking stench reached my nose. You would have thought someone was taking a leak in each nostril. When the funnel was empty I took a look at my belly and realized it had expanded to accommodate 1.5 liters and it hurt like hell. I began to moan in pain.

"Now for the eels," said Mary Ellen closing the stopcock. She climbed up on the ladder and poured a beaker of murky water into the funnel.

"What are those, Mary Ellen?" asked Leslie.

"Fresh water eels from the upper reaches of the Annisquam River. They're less than an inch long but tough little devils able to live in stomach acid for days," said Mary Ellen telling me something I did not want to hear.

"What will they do?" said Leslie.

"Swim around inside Coleman's gastro-intestinal track causing him considerable discomfort when we flog his abdomen. They're herbivores so they won't really hurt him. The Manchu emperors of China used to force prisoners to swallow a bucket of carnivorous eels from the Pearl River estuary. Those little devils would literally eat the insides of a person. There's a magnificent story scroll in the Beijing museum that tells the story of Lujan a courtesan who failed to please the emperor in bed. He had her filled with eels and hung outside his bedroom window. The other courtesans were instructed to take her screams as an encouragement to be skillful in their lovemaking. Lujan took four nights to die and when they cut her open, the eels had hollowed her out."

"Cool," said Mimsie.

Cool my fucking ass I thought as I saw tiny little creatures darting around inside the funnel. I wanted to scream and yell "no fucking way" but I realized that would only result in Barry stretching me another inch or two.

Mary Ellen twisted the stopcock and the river water and eels slowly disappeared inside me. I could feel them moving around. The additional liquid expanded my belly. Sweat broke out on my brow and frankly it hurt like hell. My own navel had gone from an innie to an outtie.

"Which one of you girls can take a dump?" said Mary Ellen holding out a glass carafe with a handle. I recognized it as the top of a Warring Blender like the one I make margaritas in at my apartment.

"I can," said Samantha.

"Do it right there where Coleman can see," said Lois.

Young girls are supposed to be shy about matters of the toilet. But Samantha pulled that thong out of her ass, squatted over the blender carafe held by Mary Ellen and allowed two small turds to drop. She wiped her crack using tissue and then held the tissue against my nose.

"Are you looking forward to eating my shit?" asked Samantha rubbing the tissue on my nostrils.

"Yes, Mistress Samantha," I replied. I'd decided there was no reason to piss them off. I could picture them doing much worse things to me than filling my belly with girl shit.

"Any body else?" asked Mary Ellen holding up the carafe.

Mimsie made a deposit and then Leslie. Natalie and Corrine didn't have any poo for me. The three adult dominatrices finished my shit cocktail by each pissing in the carafe. Lois Donaldson may be a general's wife but she didn't hesitate to unsnap the crotch of her costume and spray her strong yellow into the blender. I heard the sound of a blender for few seconds.

"Too thick, Barry, Ron can you help out?" said Mistress Mary Ellen.

The two weightlifter types came over and hauled their cocks out. They added considerably to level of liquid in the carafe. Mary Ellen used the blender once more and pronounced herself satisfied with the result.

I watched as she poured the shit slurpy in the funnel.

"Awesome," said Leslie paying rapt attention to the proceedings. I wondered if she planned to do this with her schoolmates when she got back home. Mary Ellen opened her stopcock and I watched the level of the brown mixture slowly recede as it flowed into my belly.

My navel was in the extreme out position. I looked more pregnant than Denise. The first two shots had made me extremely uncomfortable. The third one put me in agony. In spite of the agony, I noticed that there were camera flashes. The five girls had retrieved digital cameras from somewhere and were taking photos of me on the rack naked as the day I was born with a belly bloated with shit and piss. I hope those images never surface. Mary Ellen removed the funnel pulling the tubing out of my esophagus. That felt weird.

"Ten each to start, make him sing," said Lois handing Natalie a multi-stranded flogger.

Natalie's face took on a serious look as she planted her feet and with a powerful overhand swing brought that flogger down on my big round stomach.

"Good, make sure the strands don't get tangled after each stroke," said Mistress Lois.

I looked down at the bright red stripes that were appearing across my basketball stomach. Nine more from Natalie and I was a whining blubbering wreck. The eels were moving around to avoid the blows. I could feel them down in my intestines and a couple had crawled up into my mouth and nasal cavity. That's enough to drive you to the nuthouse.

They spritzed my face with cool water after Natalie finished. Mimsie was next and it was hellish pain all over again. When I looked around at the girl's faces I saw how they much they were enjoying my agony. Leslie and Samantha were playing with their pussies. It made wonder what would happen when the little bitches met Mr. Right and got married. Mr. Right better have a high tolerance for pain.

I lost track of things after that. Lois gave me some strokes just to help the girls learn how to whip a man's piss bloated belly the proper way. My stomach was red as a beet when the last girl finished. The skin was broken in several places and blood was dripping down off the dome formed by my abdomen. The eels were having Formula One races inside my intestines. A few of the misdirected blows had landed on my cock and balls. They were on fire.

Barry and Ron appeared once again and they detached me from the rack and rolled me over. Someone put a bucket in front of my face and Samantha stepped on my back. God did I spew filth into that bucket. It was a seething smelly collection of shit, piss, and agitated eels. I added my own vomit for good measure.

Someone untied my cock and that was a relief once the intense pain caused by the blood beginning to flow subsided.

"Leslie, you can suck Coleman off. His semen will taste a little odd since his cock was tied off and the blood flow stopped," said Lois.

I lay there on my painfully sore belly as Leslie managed to relieve me of my load. It was a particularly painful ejaculation. Leslie announced that it did taste weird and shared a taste with the others.

"Barry, put Coleman in that chair and restrain him. We'll let him watch the rest of the training session as long as he keeps quiet."

Barry helped me up and walked me over to a nearby chair. He strapped my ankles to the chair legs.

"If you don't give me any trouble, I'll leave your hands free and you can drink some water," said Barry.

"I won't make any trouble," I mumbled. Shit I was too pussy whipped to even think about acting up.

The women had turned their attention to Keith and Charlie. Ron came over and handed me a warm wet towel to wipe off with. When I finished with that, he gave me an ice-cold bottle of Propel to drink.

Barry and Ron stood by my chair watching the dominatrices got to work. It was too long before I felt Ron's hand rubbing my chest. He began to gently pinch my nipples. Barry's hand took my free hand and moved it to his erect cock. Oh shit I thought. This isn't over. These two huge queers are going to screw me.

Oh how I wish it had been one of my smelly black turds in the blender. The kind you make after a big Mexican dinner. I'd have fed it to the prick with a spoon. As you can read, the Donaldson women pass on their S&M skills to the next generation. I'd love to meet Leslie in NYC and go clubbing with her. We could pick up a pair of lipstick lesbians and take them to an S&M club for a no limits respected session. That would be so fucking hot.

Chapter 12– Sisterly Love 6

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

I find the next part delicious. Coleman acts like a real homophobe but I think he is a typical male hypocrite when it comes to homosexual sex. He writes like he didn't enjoy what Lois's musclemen did to him but I bet that's a lie. He's the type that's always badmouthing queers but visits video booths with gloryholes to get his cock sucked. Too bad Lois did not make a video. I would have loved to watch it.

"Hi-colonic is a high tech enema," said Denise feeding a set of tubes into Keith's upturned ass. "We're actually giving Keith a health benefit by irrigating his colon and removing toxins and crusted food lining his intestines."

The five dominatrix trainees were gathered around Denise watching intently. Keith was secured face down over the mechanical bull moaning as his asshole slowly took in the tubes. Denise had oriented Keith to where his butt was pointed up forty-five degrees and his head pointed down. They'd removed Keith's gag in order to have the enjoyment of listening to him beg them to stop. Denise carefully threaded several feet of tubing inside the Keithster while he whined and carried on like a big baby. Compared to what they did to me it was nothing. I still have nightmares where I look in the mirror and there is an eel crawling out one of my nostrils.

Later, Keith told me he could feel it traveling serpentine through his guts.

"Man it was really fucking weird. My old man had one of those exams where they stick a television camera up his ass to look for colon cancer," said Keith.

"A Sigmoidoscope,' I replied.

"Yeah that, I could feel it slowly moving back and forth through me. Shit like that could drive a guy insane," said Keith.

Keith wasn't the only one having a bad time. I was seated between Ron and Barry having my first homo experience. My hand was stroking Barry's fully erect cock. He had placed it there and indicated I was to jack him off. Ron was pinching and sucking my nipples and kissing me. Ron was also playing with my cock. There wasn't anything I could do about it. They were both a hell of a lot bigger than me and their bodies were plated with serious muscle. I was too tired and sore to even verbally protest. I just let them do what they wanted.

Denise had wheeled over a machine to Keith's torture station that resembled a double water cooler. I had once dated a girl who was one of those weird vegan health nuts. You know the kind. They consider refined white sugar more deadly than cyanide. She had a bitching body so I put up with her lectures about free radicals and not eating anything with a face until the stupid cunt let me fuck her a few times. Then I carved a fresh notch on my bedpost and dumped her.

She was into colonic irrigation as she called it and went to some sort of naturopathic quack doctor once a month for a cleaning. Her asshole was certainly clean. The last time I fucked her I had to get a little physical before she let me stick my cock in her backdoor. Actually she didn't let me; I just did it. She didn't think anal was healthy and she made a big deal of the pain. It certainly felt healthy to me although she did bleed quite a bit. I was her first for anal and she resisted but being male I was bigger and stronger and knew what she needed.

"Take it out, it hurts," she whined when I popped my Johnson past her anal ring. I reinterpreted that to mean I was to plunge in all the way to my balls. Is there anything that makes a guy want to blow his load in a girl's shitter than seeing those fists balled tight in an attempt to cope with the pain and listening to that pathetic whimpering sound they make when you tearing up their rectum. I loved the way her eyes bugged out when I slammed it home. Man I tore that whore's ass up.

Anyway after I had painted her rectum with sperm my cock was whistle clean except for a few streaks of blood. The next day I left a message on her machine that she wasn't my cup of tea and I was looking elsewhere for feminine companionship.

A mutual friend of ours told me she went into therapy after I dumped her and later became a lesbian. I like to think of myself as a Darwinian in sexual matters, strictly survival of the fittest. Rozz, that's why I decided to dump your sister after I got back from your wedding.

I'd fucked Brooke in every hole, done the S&M thing until her ass looked like a barber's pole and even made her swallow a bladder full of my strong yellow. You really know a girl's in love with you when she wraps her lips around your hose and plays urinal. Having been there, done that, bought the tee shirt so to speak it was time to follow my evolutionary instincts and spread my seed to other members of the herd. I hope Brooke didn't mind me posting those images of her sucking my cock on those WEB sites. The one of her with my sperm smeared over her face is a classic. Anyhow I digress.

Denise turned on the high-colonic machine. It started to hum and you could see bubbles in the bottle full of water. From the amount of noise Keith was making, I gather his intestines were slowly filling. Just to make sure he was having a good time, the girls were stretching his nuts as they jerked his cock. As the water level declined, Keith got louder. All of a sudden, the empty bottle started to fill with brown water. As I recall, a hi-colonic machine vacuums out your guts as it uses the water spray to clean. As a doctor, I can tell you that all those health claims for high colonic irrigation are pure bullshit. As it turns out, Denise and the girls were not interested in Keith's health but in making sure they didn't get any caca on their hands when they stuck them up his ass.

The process did not take that long. They removed the tubing and toweled off his butt. Mary Ellen handed each of the girls a waist harness that held a monster strap on cock. It was a gift and the girls were thrilled. I estimated that Keith was going to take twelve inches of thick latex once that big round mushroom head past his sphincter. Just looking at those five little whores all decked out in their leathers and those fake dicks gave me a hard on that Barry decided it was time to suck. I try to keep a clear picture in my mind of how the five of them looked walking around with those big rubber pricks bouncing in front of them. That's one of the hottest memories of my life. Mistress Lois had the five of them pose for a group photo. I'd give a $1,000 for a copy. Then they did some fun poses like one girl was licking the other or taking the cock in her pussy. Awesome man, it was totally fucking awesome.

Denise rotated Keith so he could watch the photo shoot while she explained what was about to happen.

"Keith, these five young ladies are going to fuck you in the ass," said Denise.

"Shit," was all Keith could manage. He told me his butt was sore for a week.

Mary Ellen handed Natalie a ridding crop as Denise inserted the nozzle of a bottle of Astro-Glide in Keith butthole and gave it a squeeze. Mary Ellen used the control panel to adjust Keith's height and initiate a slow backward and forward motion. Natalie guided that column of latex into the center of Keith's rosebud, applied some pressure and burst through to the Promised Land. Not one to hold back, little Natalie went all the way into the fake balls in one swift motion.

Later, Keith swore to me that his ass was virgin and it hurt like hell when Natalie started. Natalie commenced to apply the crop to her pony's back and thighs. Keith proved he could scream like a woman. It was kind of hot watching Natalie fuck old Keith. Between the rubber cock and the riding crop she certainly had his attention. Every so often, Natalie would reach down and twist Keith nut sack. The little bitch was pretty flexible.

One by one the five fucked and whipped Keith until he was something of an emotional wreck. Fortunately he staged a full and quick recovery although he did confide to me last week that he bought his new girlfriend a similar strap on harness and he is taking it up the ass nightly.

It was decided that one by one the five would butt fuck Keith while the main attention turned to Charlie.

"Enemas can be very painful if you do them right," Mistress Lois was informing the four girls. Natalie was busily applying her strap on and the crop to a screaming Keith.

Mary Ellen had rotated Charlie to where he was upside down with his legs spread wide and bent. I was amazed they had not dislocated his hip joints. Mistress Lois lubricated Charlie's butthole and inserted a long metal nozzle. The nozzle was connected via tubing to a crinkled rubber ball. Lois lubricated the ball and pushed that in Charlie. She placed another crinkled ball at his entrance. Then she pumped two smooth red rubber bulbs to expand the crinkled ones and Charlie was sealed tight. It was the same equipment and technique we use at the hospital for a postoperative patient who can't move his bowels.

In med school they make you suffer through one of these so you know what you are putting the patient through. I recall it as a distinctly unpleasant experience. Lois however, made a few modifications to make it a hellish one.

She filled the three-quart enema bag with hot water and a half a cup of castile soap. She shook the bag up connected it to the tubing and unclipped the clamp. There was a gurgling sound as Charlie was irrigated. Charlie went from begging to moaning to pleading for release in the space of five minutes. Water and air noises from the bag indicate that Charlie was carrying an extra three quarts.

Then the unexpected happened. Denise disconnected the tubing, checked the pressure bulbs giving them a couple of pumps to make sure they were snug. Next she walked over to that high tech control panel and proceeded to start poor Charlie spinning like a top. Charlie looked like an astronaut in a centrifuge. He told me as the machine's revolutions per minute increased, he could feel that hot load of soapy water coursing through his guts straining against gravity.

In spite of the machine noise, you could hear Charlie screaming like a very small woman giving natural childbirth to a baby with a very large head. Frankly, I'm surprised that Charlie did not have a nervous breakdown or worse. He was spinning like a top.

After his insides had blended, Denise stopped the machine. She kicked a bucket under Charlie as she pointed him ass down. She released the valve that kept the air in the red balls and Charlie took the dump of his life. I was left partially alone as Barry walked over to empty the bucket.

Ron was sucking my cock better than the last ten girls I dated. I suppose queers are better than anyone at blowjobs. In spite of all the times I'd ejaculated in the last twelve hours, Ron had me hard as a rock and on my way to dropping my load in his kisser.

They refilled Charlie with ice water then took him for some more astronaut training. Charlie proved that he could scream with the best of them. They went through another iteration with the hot water and that left Charlie in a state of babbling incoherence. I gather the third bucket was clear enough to satisfy Denise because she declared the enema session done. The girls asked some questions and Denise provided a handout with WEB locations where the various oils, soaps, nozzles and expandable plugs could be purchased. I could picture the five of them delivering punishment enemas to their schoolmates.

Mary Ellen arrived with a can of Crisco and proceeded to don a latex glove. She packed the Crisco in Charlie's butthole as she delivered a mini-lecture on fisting. Denise handed the girls latex gloves. Leslie went first reaching so far inside Charlie you would have thought there was a $1000 gift certificate to the Gap hidden in his entrails.

The five had all gotten their turn fucking Keith with the strapons so Samantha packed his rear with Crisco and made a hand search of his guts. I was content to watch from the sidelines even though Barry had put his dick in my mouth and was training me to suck cock.

The five girls fished around in Keith and Charlie for a while Both of the guys told me later it was beyond weird to feel someone's hand two feet into your large intestine.

The training session ended with kisses and hugs between the women and the eight femme fatales departed leaving Ron and Barry to clean up. Somehow they managed to get the three of us into a large communal shower where they scrubbed us down. The way they washed our cocks indicated we weren't quite done.

After the shower had revived us, they gave us warm robes and took us back upstairs to a large bedroom that contained a king sized bed. I really don't like to talk about what happened next. We three guys are not fags but Ron and Barry treated us like we were and we were just too whipped to do anything but go with the flow.

After about an hour of queer sex, everyone had blown their load. Ron handed each of us a couple of Vicodin tablets. Mine knocked me out and I slept until mid afternoon.

When we woke up, someone had placed our clothes in the room. We dressed, left the room and found the girls or rather they found us. We were starving so we ate the brunch buffet, made out good byes to Lois and the General and departed.

All I can say, Rozz, is it was a wedding I do not think will be matched in my lifetime.

So that ends the story of my wedding and the ex-friends who attended. My only regret is that I was too busy getting my brains fucked out to participate in the dungeon activities.

Chapter 13 – Coffin Gangbang

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

"Everyone's here, it's time for the family to fuck you on Trace's coffin," said Mary Ellen starting to untie me from the chair.

She was right. There were a good fifty Donaldson's milling quietly about. They'd all come by to pay their respects to the widow and examine Trace's medals. The constant tinkering with the medals had caused my labia to bleed and someone was going to have to reimburse the funeral home for the ruined cushion. My arms had lost their feeling and my hip sockets were hot little balls of pain by the time Mary Ellen unpinned Trace's medals and untied me. I was a borderline hysteric from the pain and mistreatment. I felt to the floor in a heap unable to move and moaning in pain.

"Oh quit being a big baby," said Mary Ellen reaching down to take hold of the dildo sticking in my cunt. Robbie grabbed my hair to pull me to my feet and bent me over so Mary Ellen could access the dildo from my rear.

"Wider, bitch," said Mary Ellen kicking my legs further apart.

I thought my guts were being sucked out when she grabbed the end of the dildo and pulled it out with one swift motion. When she sensed how much pain she caused, she smiled and immediately rammed it back inside me hard. She put the palm of her hand against the flat base and hit it three or four times. That caused a sharp pain somewhere deep inside my female plumbing. Then Mary Ellen took a firm grip on the dildo and twisted it. It had a curved tip and the feeling of that enormous latex cock head spinning in my female parts caused me extreme pain. To keep me from blacking out, Denise held a bottle of poppers under my nose. I didn't know how much more abuse I could take.

"Does that hurt, Rozz?" taunted Mary Ellen.

"Yes, you're killing me," I replied through tear filled eyes. My insides were on fire.

"Good, that's as it should be,' said Denise who was standing behind Mary Ellen wishing it was she torturing my cunt.

"Rosalind, it is fitting that you bleed at your husband's funeral. He was a wonderful son and a true American hero," solemnly spoke the General watching as Mary Ellen finally pulled the dildo out for good. The Donaldson's were given to speaking that kind of patriotic psychobabble. The tip of the dildo was coated with my blood.

Mary Ellen removed the dildo from my vagina but left the one in my asshole. I felt like a very long and thick snake had crawled up in my guts and stayed there.

"I'll leave the one in your ass. It's tighten you up so you'll feel it more when they fuck you," said Mary Ellen. "It'll act a bushing."

Did I mention that Mary Ellen had a mechanical engineering degree? In her case, she used it to design instruments of torture.

The funeral director showed up to lower Trace's coffin to where it was almost on the floor.

"Let's hang her head off the end of the coffin so they can skull fucked the bitch too," said Robbie my brother-in-law.

"Good idea, she can take two cocks at once," said Mary Ellen.

"She can also eat pussy," added Denise.

Robbie and Mary Ellen laid me down on my back and restrained my arms and legs with belt strapping that reached under the coffin. I was spread out like a starfish belly to the ceiling. Mary Ellen found a small cushion from somewhere to elevate my butt. They positioned me so my head hung off the end of the coffin. Mary Ellen placed two silver hooks in my nostrils that were tied to bottom of the carrier holding the coffin. She tightened them to where the top of my head pointed almost straight down. It was painful as hell. I felt like my nose was being ripped off. I'd be sucking cock upside down. Trace and Mary Ellen as per usual tightened the straps until my shoulder and hip sockets were on the absolute edge of dislocation and in horrible pain.

Any Donaldson family event from a wedding to a funeral and including Christmas and Easter was an excuse for a gang rape of some female member that was in disfavor. If you were a Donaldson female sooner or later your number would come up and you'd find yourself like me strapped down facing a long line of horny men intent of blowing their load inside one of your holes. It had happened to Lois, Mary Ellen and Denise.

My first Thanksgiving with the Donaldsons after Trace and I were married, Robbie announced that Denise had been fucking around while Robbie was overseas. Picture this. It's a postcard Thanksgiving with about thirty of us seated around the table. We've eaten the main meal, drunk some terrific wine and were having dessert when Robbie passes around a set of pictures of Denise pregnant as all hell sucking and fucking this tall skinny black man. She'd whelped her brat a couple of months ago so the photos weren't recent.

The guy is lying on a chaise beside a swimming pool. The photos looked like they were taken with a telephoto lens.

"Oh my God," said Denise.

"Yes. Oh my God it is. A friend of mine took these photos. When Denise emailed me she was going to Bal Harbor to visit her sick mother and that was her third trip down there in the last three months, I got suspicious. The guy whose cock she's sucking is Lee Catalin. He and Denise used to date before she met me," said Robbie.

Lee Catalin was hung like a horse and I could certainly see why Denise was interested. It was a little weird that he was hot for Denise given that she looked like she had swallowed a beach ball. But pregnant women turn some men on. Hell, some men like fat girls or women who've lost a limb or have scars especially burn scars. I met a girl at a club in NYC who had been horribly burned on her back in an explosion at a chemical plant. Her scars were enough to make you loose your lunch but she didn't lack for men who wanted to run their tongues over her ravaged flesh as they fucked her.

In the photos, Denise was at a pool party and there were other couples fucking beside Lee and her. When I thumbed through the photos I saw that all the men were black and the women white.

"Care to explain yourself, Denise," said Robbie.

"Lee belongs to a Yahoo Group, South Florida Black Men and the White Women Who Love Their Cock," said Denise.

I started wondering whether there was a New England counterpart. The thought of fucking a number of black studs sounded inviting. I made a mental note to go out on yahoo's groups and do a search.

"Keep talking, bitch," said Robbie.

"He asked me to join. They hold monthly parties at one of the member's homes. I flew down to attend. I was lonesome while you were gone, Robbie. It didn't mean anything. I was horny and needed some cock."

We all retired to the basement media room/dungeon for port and cigars. Robbie made Denise stand up in front of every one and strip naked. For a woman who had a baby three months ago, she looked pretty damn good. Robbie with Trace's help restrained Denise standing up then the two of them stripped to their waist. They selected two different types of whips and went to work on Denise's front and back. After they had whipped her to a state of hysteria, they lashed her across a padded bench and all the men fucked her. I pussy was positively dripping by the time I watched my husband mount Denise and shove his cock in her. Her body was covered with whelps and bleeding from dozens of small cuts.

All the men fucked her pussy or ass while she quietly sobbed her pain like the true Marine she was. Now, I'd been caught fucking the staff at the hospital and it was my turn to be raped. As I lay there totally exposed and open, I thought about what was going to happen to me and I got turned on. How many women are lucky enough to be tied across her husband's coffin then fucked by all the male members of his family. In spite of the discomfort, I was looking forward to the next part of the wake.

Mary Ellen had hardly stepped away from me before General Corwin and Corwin Junior appeared.

"If you don't mind, Mary Ellen, my son and I would like to screw Rozz first. Trace was my favorite nephew," said General Corwin Donaldson, Trace's paternal uncle.

"Go right ahead. Don't be gentle with her," said Mary Ellen.

"Pussy or mouth," General Corwin asked his teenage son who already spend time fingering me while he examined Trace's metals.

"I'll take her mouth," said Corwin Junior surprising me. I'd thought he was a pussy man.

A hard cock immediately slid between my lips. Corwin Junior had that overeager nervous attitude you find when screwing young boys.

"Slow down, Junior, take your time and enjoy yourself," advised Cornelia his mother who was standing nearby watching her husband and son screw me.

I felt the General working his dick in my cunt. Mary Ellen had been right. The combination of how I was tied and the dildo up my ass made my pussy tight and intercourse painful.

"For a whore that likes to fuck as much as she does, she feels damn tight," commented General Corwin starting to fuck me.

"Left tit is mine," yelled Corwin Junior taking my left nipple in his mouth and giving it a painful bite.

"Not so hard," I cried to no avail. In fact he bit me harder grinding my areola with his molars.

General Corwin must not have had a preference because he immediately went for the right and I felt a sharp pain as he captured a nipple between his molars and crushed it.

"Can we have Rosalind after the men have finished with her," pussy-loving Priscilla asked her mother.

"We'll have to talk to Mary Ellen about that. The way you dad and brother are going after her, there may not be much left," laughed Cornelia.

Corwin Junior was into throat fucking and in my situation all I could do was relax my esophagus and let him have his fun. I could move my jaw and tongue sufficiently to help relieve him of his load but I was totally immobilized topside. Junior blew his load quickly and one of the other cousins replaced him. General Corwin finished and was replaced in short order. The Donaldson's don't give you time to catch your breath. I'd swallow a mouthful of cum and a second later feel another clock pushing past my lips.

I lost all track of what was happening. I was never free of cock for more than a few seconds. My pussy and throat were raw. My tits were covered in bite marks. The holes that Mary Ellen had punctured in my labia to display Trace's medals were bleeding. It was the kind of gang fuck the Donaldsons excelled at. When it was over, I felt barely alive.

In my opinion, Mary Ellen is a female Marquis de Sade but with better technology. The way I was positioned, intercourse was painful. Cocks were fucking upward scraping my G-spot bloody. The kind of pain that would make you whimper and beg if someone wasn't pushing his cock down your throat making that impossible.

It was time for music and everyone who wasn't fucking me took a hymnal and the singing started.

The organist started playing one of Trace's favorite hymns, "Near My God to Thee." After that the Donaldson's as a family enthusiastically sang, "Marching Christian Soldiers." I would have loved to join in the singing but I had a large cock in my throat. One of the women performed a solo of, "Ave Maria". She had glorious soprano voice. Someone with a terrific Irish tenor sang "Mother McCree" and that brought tears to my eyes as it always does. "All Hail The Power of Jesus' Name" and "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God" ended the singing.

Given that I was servicing two at a time, I lost count of the number of cocks in my gangbang. One of the problems with being the object of a gangbang is that a girl is usually too drunk or exhausted to know how many guys have fucked her. You can only estimate later when you're bragging to your girlfriends about it. I'd say upwards of thirty. If Mary Ellen was a friend, she would have taken a piece of chalk and made fence and post marks on Trace's coffin so I would know.

I swallowed enough semen that I felt very full, like I had eaten a large bowl of clam chowder. My tits were chewed to shreds and bleeding when the men and boys finished with me.

After the men finished, little Priscilla hopped up on the coffin and sucked cum out of my pussy.

"Priscilla is such a cum-slut," I heard Cornelia laughingly say. "She loves to eat pussy that's full of cum. She must be in heaven right now."

Priscilla jerked herself off while she ate me. She came pretty quickly. I'd love to take that little cunt to some lesbian clubs in NYC and turn her lose.

During the last hour of the wake, several of Trace's relatives eulogized him. I was too exhausted to listen but later Denise sent me a video of the wake with great footage of me on top of the coffin and complete recordings of the eulogies. I'll transcribe them for you in the following chapters. Trace had done some very interesting things that I didn't know about.

Chapter 14 – Eulogy Torture

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

"This is Rosalind, the widow," said Mary Ellen introducing me to somebody.

I was sprawled beside Trace's coffin with cum oozing out of my cunt and feeling nauseated from the amount of jism I had ingested during my prolonged gang rape. There was a long flexible dildo several feet up my ass and my catheter was in place. I could feel the tubing that passed through my urethra to land in my bladder. The bag at the end of the catheter was almost full of dark yellow pee. The puncture wounds in my labia were bleeding; mixing my blood with Donaldson family semen. I was hurting in a dozen spots but I managed to look up at the two Latino men who were standing between Mary Ellen and Denise.

"Diego and Servero are old family friends from Nicaragua. They're going to entertain you while we listen to our brother's eulogies," said Denise.

"I can't stand any more pain," I muttered. I figured that Diego and Servero met the family during some black ops operation in Central America during the Cold War. They had the soulless eyes and merciless looks of death squad members.

"You should have thought about that before you decided to screw every soldier in Kuwait," said Denise.

"Rozz is a whore if ever there was one. Before Trace was killed, someone sent him pictures of her sucking and fucking with dozens of men and some women. She's also a lying bitch and a worthless cunt. You gentlemen don't care much for whores do you?" asked Mary Ellen.

"No, Senorita, we will make her pay," said Diego.

"I expect you to live up to your reputation. She's already a pain-slut. Take her to the next level. If you happen to reduce her to a babbling idiot, none of us will give a shit," said Mary Ellen.

"She's all yours, enjoy," said Denise.

They reached down to grab me by the armpits to lift me up. It was then that I noticed that both were carrying what looked like fishing tackle boxes and for all of me that was what they were. Unfortunately for me, they did not contain floats, sinkers, and lures. They contained things to cause soul-destroying pain.

One of Trace's first cousins was stepping up to the podium to eulogize my husband as I was dragged to the very back of the room and sat in a stout wooden armchair. The scary part was that someone has cut a sizeable whole in the chair seat and my butt hung through when they sat me down.

I knew I was in the hands of men who had probably tortured hundreds if not thousands of human beings in the dirty little wars that the US and the USSR had fought with proxies before the Soviets collapsed. Somewhere along the line, the practice of torture had changed from a job to a fun hobby for those two sadists.

They used belt straps to bind my forearms to the chair rests. My ankles were strapped to the chair's legs and a wide leather strap across my forehead immobilized my head against the chair back. Straps right under my tits and on my thighs left me completely secured to the chair. I could barely bat an eyelash.

Diego opened his torture box and pulled out something that resembled a model train transformer. He plugged it into a nearby wall socket.

"You're not going to use that on me," I whined. I'd seen electricity used in the S&M club scene by hardcore types. They applied serious voltage to sensitive body parts. Master Mike who I'd let whip me into a state where I was delirious with pain wanted to connect me up but I said no way. He found a Goth girl who was so fucked up on drugs she would have agreed that he could run a subway train over her. She had so many piercing she reminded me of the Cenobite named Pinhead in the Hellraiser films. There was a chain that went from her ear lobe through a hole in the side of her cheek to a stud in her tongue. That was the kind of a crazy loser she was. Master Mike wired her tits and pussy and even some of metal piercing. Everyone was coked out of their mind when he turned the switch on to a Tens box and the girl lighted up like a Christmas tree. The stud in her mouth melted burning off part of her tongue and the chain burned a brand across her cheek. The weird part was that her ear lobe sort of exploded splattering blood on the crowd. Everyone decided it would be cool to lick the blood off one another. Someone called the EMTs and they carted her off to the ER. Well, I've already told you I was into some heavy S&M before I met Trace.

When I opened my mouth to protest, Diego captured the tip of my tongue in a hemostat. He proceeded to pull it out to where I thought it was going to rip off. Once extended, Servero attached a metal clamp to the base then stuffed my mouth with rubber. The clamp had a wire attached that was connected to one of the transformer connections. The rubber served two purposes. It kept me from biting my tongue off and it served as a gag.

They put some sort of grease on my earlobes and attached two extremely painful metal clamps. They used those to pass electricity through my brain.

Diego captured one of my nipples in a hemostat and pulled it way out so his partner could push a sharp metal rod through my nipple. He placed a cone shaped apparatus over the end of my tit and stretched the nipple out so that the metal rod rested at the top of the cone. They attached an electrical wire to the metal rod and my nipples were not only very painfully stretched but read to accept voltage.

They did something similar to my clit. They used a plastic rod to push an egg shaped metal object deep into my cervix. Somebody reached under the chair and replaced the dildo in my ass with another metal egg. They completed the circuit by putting wired clamps on my big toes. Wiring completed, Diego gave me a low voltage test that caused me to vibrate like a tuning fork.

Servero signaled that I was ready and Mary Ellen and Denise walked back to see me suffer.

"Show us," said Denise.

They took me through a sequence that started by passing 110 volts from earlobe to earlobe using my brain as a conductor. I could feel my brain getting hot and I would swear it lowered my IQ and made a complete mess of my memory. Tongue and tits were next. The rubber tubes stuffed in my mouth muffled the loud agonizing screams that I made. Clit, vagina, and rectum were next on the agenda.

"Look at how her muscles contort. That must be pure hell," commented Denise.

"She deserves it," laughed Mary Ellen.

"Watch this, Senoras," said Servero as he alternated between my toes and my clit, then my toes and vagina, followed by toes and asshole. Using a set on dials and switches on the transformer, he played me like I was Beethoven's Ninth Symphony.

"Excellent, make her suffer and I mean suffer. We're going to go sit down and listen to Megan's eulogy of Trace. She worshipped him when she was growing up," said Mary Ellen.

"We'll be back to check on you when Megan finishes," said Denise.

Diego and Servero spent over an hour firing electric current through my body using my sensitive most parts as entry points. I started to hope I would die or at the least pass out. It's hard to describe how it feels when for instance they selected my clit and applied the voltage. I felt like that small nubbin of flesh was the center of the worst pain imaginable. The muscles surrounding my clitoris clenched as they went to a paroxysm that made me feel that my entire pubic area was being wrenched from my body. It felt like someone reached in my cunt and turned it inside out. I screamed and screamed to no avail.

In between moments of agonizing torture I saw several of Trace's relatives go to the podium and speak a few words about my husband. I was far too deep into my own private hell to listen to what was said. However, I have transcribed them from a video that that Lois provided.

So as you read the following chapters picture a crowd of well-dressed individuals many dressed in the uniform of their country listening intently to the speaker telling stories about my Trace while ignoring the muffled screams his widow was making in the back of the room.

Chapter 15 – Summer Camp Eulogy

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

"Please, I'm thirsty," I said to Diego. My throat was raw from screaming and being tortured makes you sweat. After fifteen minutes of electrical torture I was perspiring from every pore in my body. There were puddles of sweat under the chair where they had been passing current through the sensitive parts of my body. I'd also pissed myself twice causing even more dehydration. I was desperate for something to drink.

"Here drink this bitch," said Servero unzipping the front of his trousers and hauling his cock out.

He reached into my mouth and removed the rubber pads used to gag me. They also kept me from biting my tongue off when they turned the voltage up.

"You guys can fuck me anyway you want if you'll get me out of here," I said. "I've got money, say $10,000 for just letting me walk away."

"We'd never betray the trust of the General or his family, whore. Open up and swallow my piss," said Servero pushing his cock between my lips.

I felt the warm liquid fill my mouth and I greedily gulped it down. Piss was mostly water. I was desperate and it wasn't my first Yellow River cocktail. When he finished I looked at Diego and said, "More." With a look of utter contempt he hauled his peter out, unlimbered it and put it inside my mouth resting on my tongue. It took several seconds for him to get his flow started and it went on for a while. I got that nice comfortable feeling of having a belly full of warm man pee. They did it so casually you had to believe it was nothing new to them. I wondered how many times they'd done the same thing to some peasant girl in Central America.

I would have preferred a nice bottle of cool still mineral water but they weren't offering that. Anyone who was a habitué of the NY S&M club scene would tell you that there's a certain kind of woman who loves to swallow urine. I once drained eight guys in a row at the Hellfire Club. My stomach became round and I proudly showed it off to everyone. Some piss drinkers prefer to use a glass. I have a friend that kept a tray of pee cycles in her freezer. She takes one out after she gets home from work and sits on the steps of her apartment and eat it while she chats with the neighbors.

On Saturday nights, the Hellfire Club would set up a piss bar. Men and women would wonder in and fill a glass then set it on a buffet table. Piss would vary from a dark yellow to almost clear. I became something of a urine connoisseur and could tell by taste or smell girl versus boy pee. What was really neat was finding a few pubic hairs floating on top as a garnish.

Since New York is on the cutting edge of the smoking debate glasses were labeled for smokers and non-smokers. The non-smokers claimed that piss was a source of second hand smoke and therefore carcinogenic. After I'd been strung up on a St. Andrews and some unkind master had whipped my ass until I had a screaming orgasm, I'd go into the piss bar and gulp down a glass of the strongest yellow I could find. It's the best 'after a beating' drink there is. Your backside and tits are on fire and striped. Your clit's red as a berry and hanging out between your pussy lips because some dom attached an alligator clamp and a couple of pounds of fishing weights to test Newton's Law of Gravity. Every part of your body hurts but at the same time you are so alive. I'd stagger into the little room and gulp down some stranger's urine wallowing in the sheer degradation of the act of ingesting another human being's bodily wastes. I'd drink it fast so piss would trickle out the corners of my mouth dropping down on my swollen boobs. The salt in the urine would burn the cuts left by the whip and I would think how great it was to be alive.

But I really prefer to have the meat pipe in my mouth and drink from the source. Sucking on a flowing piss hole really drains the bladder and brings up the dregs. It's the heat, smell, and taste that turn me on. I let my mouth fill then swallow enjoying the sensation as the hot smelly liquid travels down my esophagus. When I'm in the mood, there's nothing better on earth than draining a man's bladder sucking that last golden drop from his urethra. Being able to do things like that defines you as something beyond the ordinary. Girl piss isn't all that bad either especially if she's in her period and flooding. Walking around the Hellfire Club with your face covered in menstrual blood and piss breath singles you out as a true believer.

When both my Central American torturers had emptied their bladder they reapplied my rubber gag and turned the current back on. While my two compadres from the death squads were using my tits and clit to validate Ohm's Law, one of Trace's female relatives was delivering part of his eulogy. Before I recall the eulogy let me tell you a little something about her.

Megan Faircloth was Trace's first cousin. She and her husband ran a company called Faircloth Security that hired ex-military types to provide security services to mostly overseas customers. Their employees were former Navy Seals, Delta Force, Special Ops and British SAS. They were well connected in Washington and were getting filthy rich off contracts to protect various Middle Eastern autocrats. Faircloth Security guarded them from the people they ruled over and stole from.

Megan grew up in Weston in a mansion a few doors down from the Donaldson's. Megan's mom, Sarah, was the General youngest sister. She had married a wealthy Boston banker. However, Trace always believed that it was the General who knocked up his youngest sister after she was married. Biologically, Trace considered Megan a half sister and a first cousin. It seemed that Sarah's banker husband was firing blanks so Sarah prevailed on her brother to get her pregnant. It was during our honeymoon in Hawaii that I learned so many interesting things about my in-laws.

"So Megan was a turkey baster child?" I asked naively thinking that incest might be beyond the Donaldson's pale.

"Artificial insemination, the General, are you kidding? Knowing dad he'd been banging Sarah since she entered middle school. Dad put a bun in her oven one night while her husband was out of town. Mom helped make sure she got pregnant," said Trace. He was on his third martini and filling me in on the incestuous doings of the Donaldson family. Sober, Trace could take a secret to his grave. A few drinks and the man blabbed everything.

"How did your Mom help?" I asked putting my hand on my cunt. We were in bed in the honeymoon suite of the Maui Four Seasons.

"You know, after dad filled her DNA tank, Mom grabbed her legs and stood her on her head. She made her do a headstand for ten minutes. Sperm do best when the egg is downhill," said Trace. "Of course, she and Aunt Sarah sucked dad's cock together to get him good and hard. They also did some lesbo shit while Dad watched. Dad loves to watch Mom eat pussy."

I knew that was true given that he had watched Lois and I eat each other. Eating pussy was the Donaldson's way of saying welcome to the family. Come to think of it, I'd had my mouth on almost all of the Donaldson twats and they'd returned the favor.

"How do you know this?" I asked. Trace's family intrigued me. Trace's conversation had gotten me worked up and I was sliding the dildo we'd bought at an adult store in and out of my cunt as he spoke. It was one of those that had a projection for your clit so you could drive it as deep as it would go then twist it to agitate the little man in the boat. I was wondering if Trace was going to pass out on me like he had the night before. It wouldn't matter if he did. I'd already discovered the room in the hotel's basement where the bellmen hung out. I'd gone down there last night and pulled a train. I was looking forward to doing it again. There were some Filipinos and a couple of Samoans that were fucking machines. They told me I wasn't the first honeymoon wife to find her way to the basement after their exhausted husband had blown his one good load and gone to sleepy land.

Trace had played thirty-six holes of golf that day wearing his ass out. I'd stayed in the hotel and gotten the spa treatment including a terrific massage. After the massage, I'd taken a tennis lesson with the pro who ended the session by putting the meat to me on his office desk. I was really enjoying my honeymoon.

"Mom told Denise. She told Robbie and he told me," said Trace taking his cock out of his pajamas and stroking it.

"So what happened?" I asked putting my hand on his balls.

"Mom and Denise went out one night on the town when Dad and Robbie were overseas on a tour at NATO headquarters in Brussels. They went to club in Boston where Mom got drunk out of her mind. You know how Mom gets when she gets drunk."

"No, how does she get?" I asked liking the way my new marital aid was working my cunt. It had a curved part that was designed to stimulate your G-spot. It was tracking across Doctor Grafenberg's discovery stimulating a patch of flesh whose only purpose in life was to get me off.

"She gets real horny. Four drinks and my mother is desperate for a fuck. Mom latched on to some black stud and they start dancing. She already knew the guy from somewhere. Right out in the middle of the dance floor he hikes her skirt up and sticks his hands in her pants. Mom turns around bends over and grabs his ankles and starts to grind him. Everybody's watching my mom grind her bare ass against this black stud's crotch. Denise said it was hot as hell. "

"Sounds hot," I said. I had a thing about being exhibited. It enriches any sexual experience when you look out of the corner of your eye and there's an audience.

"Mom's desperate to be screwed so she drags this guy off the dance floor by his cock. She and her dance partner go into the Men's Room for a blowjob and a fuck. A half hour later Denise finds Mom sitting on the john with her pants around her ankles and a line of about five guys waiting for a hummer."

"What did Denise do?" I asked.

"She got in the other stall and started sucking cock," said Trace.

"Denise is such a helpful person," I commented. "If there's dick around, she'll help a girlfriend suck it."

"One of the men said he had an apartment nearby and the two of them should come over and party. Mom insisted they go. She offers to pull a train. So Denise and Mom and about six black guys jump into a stretch limo and drive two blocks. Once upstairs, the dude fixed Mom and Denise up with some great blow and everyone got naked."

"Isn't your Mom a little old for that kind of action?" I asked.

"Black guys were into older white women. They thought Mom was the greatest at least that was what Denise told Robbie," said Trace.

"And so while this was going on, what was Denise doing?"

"You know how Denise feels about black cock. She was in interracial sex heaven. Some other black men arrive. Mom and Denise are in this big bed taking on all comers. Those two loves those licorice sticks."

"So what had this got to do with Megan?" I asked.

"Mom's holding Denise's legs to she can do a headstand while these two black studs are both drilling her ass straight down. Denise said her hole was stretched wide open. Every once in a while, they'd pull out and everyone would spit in her ass."

"God that sounds hot," I said. I was wondering if I could talk the bellmen into double dicking my asshole Lois Donaldson style. My pussy was pumping lube thinking about having a butthole full of spit and semen.

"Mom who is still drunk and now under the influence of some lines of blow, tells her how years ago, she held Sarah in the same position so the General's sperm aided by gravity could knock her up. Mom said it worked because nine month's later Megan popped out."

"That's a really touching family story," I recall saying after Trace was done.

So Megan was Trace's half sister and first cousin. Megan was two years younger than Trace that made her three younger than Robbie. Another interesting piece of the Megan saga was also revealed on our honeymoon. The next night I'd just given Trace a blowjob on a deserted beach when I asked the following.

"Who was the first person to ever suck your dick?" I figure that was a question that most newlyweds get around to. I'd already told Trace I'd sucked my grandfather Bagwell's cock when I was ten. My parents had left me with them for the summer. Grandmother Bagwell was the first pussy I ever ate.

"Megan, my cousin," answered Trace after thinking a minute.

"How old were you?"

"Just turned twelve."

"So Megan was?"

"Almost eleven."

"Did she swallow your load like I just did?"

"Yes, she'd already swallowed Robbie's."

"And what were the circumstances?" I asked curling up in Trace's arms. It was getting dark and you know how romantic Hawaii is. I was planning on taking a short break then getting Trace hard again so we could fuck. Conversation about early childhood sexual experiences always gets a man ready to fuck. Fucking on the beach is so goddamn hot and I wanted his cock inside me pumping away as I listened to the waves.

"We were in her garage. Her dad had one of those old Rolls and it had running boards that you could sit on. We asked Megan to show us her tits that had just started to bud. She was really proud that she finally had something to show. We were just kids. She pulled off her shirt and we acted like she was Pamela Anderson."

"And you coped a feel?"

"Robbie has a gift for talking a girl out of her drawers. He took Megan in his arms and started kissing her. He motioned for me to join it. First thing you know, we're tongue kissing and sucking on her nipples. The three of us are getting worked up. Robbie unzips his trousers and hauls his whang out and puts her hand on it. I do the same. She's got a dick in each hand jacking us off."

"Like this?" I asked as I took Trace's cock in my hand and started jerking him off.

"Yeah, we did that for a while then Robbie asks her if she knew about blowjobs."

"And she proved knowledgeable?"

"She and one of her girl friends had been watching a porn video. She sat down on the running board. She put her mouth on Robbie's cock and showed us how the big girls do it. All the while, she's still jerking me off. At out age, it didn't take long for Robbie to pop. Megan showed her future potential by swallowing. I was so hot watching that I exploded as soon as I got in her mouth. She gulped that down too. She told us that was the way that porn stars did it."

"So did you fuck her?"

"Bet your fucking ass we did. Robbie put her in the backseat of the Rolls and we popped her cherry. I got to go first that time."

"Did she cry and scream?"

"Megan loved being fucked even the first time. She begged us to screw her again. A week later she announced she'd been watching some porn with a girlfriend and wanted to try anal. So we took that cherry too."

"Was that summer the only time, you screwed her?"

"Hell no, we fucked that little slut all through high school and even into college, Megan was always ready to spread if Robbie or I was horny. She'd screw our friends too if we told her too. I bet I fucked Megan Faircloth a thousand times. She swallowed enough spunk in high school to fill a reservoir."

So the reader having some background knowledge about the thirtish female that had stepped to the podium to deliver a eulogy of my dead husband, I recount what she said that night. Keep in mind, I was in the back of the room, naked, sitting in a puddle of my own piss and screaming into a rubber gag as two death squad torturers delivered serious voltage into my sexual organs. It isn't fun when you feel the positive terminal deep in your rectum exchanging electrons with the negative terminal in your cervix.

My name is Megan Faircloth and I'm Trace Donaldson's first cousin. I consider it a privilege and an honor to be speaking about my cousin, my friend, and a man I consider a great American. Trace was gifted in every way except the length of his years. We grew up together in Weston and while there are many wonderful stories I could tell I feel this one most illustrates the kind of person that Trace was.

It was summer and Trace, his brother Robbie and me were at Camp Sunshine. The camp was located on the shores of Lake Winnipesaukee. Camp Sunshine specialized in teenagers of military families so the kids there had a lot in common. In addition to the usual hiking, boating, swimming, etc, there was a computer lab and they taught me everything I needed to know about computers. If any of you parents are trying to decide on a camp for your child, I heartedly recommend Camp Sunshine. I'm sending my oldest, Lara, there for the first time next summer.

Oh where was I. I didn't mean to turn Trace's eulogy into a commercial for Camp Sunshine. This one summer the camp had hired two female counselors that truth be told were man-hating dykes. Their names were Anne and Corrine. These two taught archery, tennis, and golf. They were both college juniors at UMASS and I suppose kind of pretty in a not-too-feminine kind of way.

It was obvious from day one that they had absolutely no use for men. They seemed to take a particular dislike to Robbie and Trace. As far as Anne and Corrine were concerned the two boys could do no right. On the other hand, if you were a girl, you couldn't do any wrong. Even though Trace was better at archery than any of us, they refused to let him represent Camp Sunshine in the competition with the other camps. As a result we lost.

They refused other than the bare minimum to instruct Robbie and Trace in golf. Both boys were eager to learn to play and very disappointed they were being ignored especially since their parents were paying good money for the camp. Put downs, cutting remarks, nasty unkind words poured out of their bitchy mouths. But Trace and Robbie kept their cool. They never answered back and did the best they could under trying circumstances. Although Trace whispered to me once after Anne had refused to help him with his golf swing, "Their day is coming. It'll be the last week of camp."

I knew that those two dykes were going to regret fucking over the Donaldson brothers. The fact that Robbie and Trace didn't react caused the two lesbos to be even more dismissive of the boys.

"Dickless wonders," was the term they used.

At the same time, Anne and Corrine were inviting two other girls and me to their cabin every night. They had beer and pot plus all these great lesbian sex toys. That was my first experience with a butterfly clit stimulator. I had one incredible orgasm the first time I let Anne strap that baby to my love button. I came so hard I pissed myself.

Corrine would roll some joints, as the five of us got naked. We'd drink and get high then take our clothes off for a prolonged session of lesbian sex. It was my first real experience with girls. I found out I was bi-sexual because I loved eating pussy. I already knew I licked oral sex. Trace and Robbie had been licking my snatch since I was a high school freshman. I know Rosalind is busy being tortured for acting like a pig slut but I do want to say that her husband had one of the most talented tongues I ever experienced. I can cream in my panties when I recall the many times that he went down on me and brought me to an orgasm. I'd cum so hard I lost bladder control. I'd piss in his face. Trace would open his mouth and swallow my urine; but like the gentleman he was, always kept the final mouthful that we'd share.

"Recycling," he called it as he put his lips on mine and released a mouthful of my piss. I swallow everything he gave me and sucked on his tongue. Ladies and I know Rozz would attest to this if our two good Latin friends weren't showing her the pure unadulterated hell of electrical torture, Trace Donaldson was the hottest muff diver who ever put a face to my cunt. Sorry, I'm digressing from my Camp Sunshine story.

As the days went by, the nightly parties got wilder. We started fisting each other. That was a first for me. I was quite pleasantly surprised that with patience and a whole lot of lube that another girl could put her entire hand in my cunt and make a fist then fuck me with it Anne would fist me while Corrine ate me. Great orgasms were the result. Even more bizarre was when Anne and Corrine introduced us to anal fisting. Having two hands inside your body cavities isn't for the meek but it certainly was exciting for a teenager like myself anxious to experience all the world had to offer.

It was during one of those rug-munching parties that both Anne and Corrine declared that they had never had a man inside their body and never would. Both dykes said they would rather die than allow a man to touch them.

I'd tell Robbie and Trace about the parties with Anne and Corrine. They made me go into detail about what lesbian things we were doing. The two brothers would get horny listening to my stories. I usually wound up bent over a log taking a cock in my mouth and another in my pussy or ass. I think all we Donaldson's can recall those wonderful carefree teenage years where we smoked dope and fucked every day without a concern for tomorrow.

When I told Robbie and Trace about the dykes' declaration that no man would ever touch them, the brothers decided to take action. They spent several hours preparing a detailed operations plan. They discussed various scenarios and options. Alternatives were evaluated. They were very grown-up about it.

They put their plans into effect the last full day of camp. We were going home early the next morning. They reserved two adjoining rooms at the motel that was part of the truck stop over in Interstate 93. It's one of the busiest truck stops in the area. All the big rigs coming down from Montreal stop there for diesel.

Trace hot wired one of the camp's trucks and drove over to the motel and checked in. He had to pay the desk clerk an extra $100 to ignore the fact that he wasn't an adult.

He chose one of the rooms as the base of operations. Trace had contacted a friend of the family that operated a security equipment company in Manchester, NH. He arranged for the owner to meet him at the motel and set up four concealed digital video cameras trained on the two double beds in the other room.

Robbie gave me Rohypnol tablets as I headed out for my nightly pussy licking party with Anne and Corrine. I crushed the tablets into power and managed to slip them into the beer. Within an hour, everyone was dead to the world except for myself. I signaled the boys and they brought the truck around. We loaded Anne and Corrine in the truck bed and drove to the motel. We left the other two girls to sleep it off.

When we got to the motel, Trace had everything ready. He'd stripped the bedding off and stowed it in the closet. We undressed both dykes. Trace used bungee chords, rope, and belt strapping to tie them to the bed. You have to picture this. They were on their backs with their arms bound overhead to the bedposts. Robbie bent their legs back over their heads and Trace tied their ankles to those same bedposts. They were bent like bobbie pins. Trace used a pillow to elevate their rears to what I would call the 'fuck me in either hole' position. We took some Polaroids of them with our fingers in their pussy or asshole.

"Payback time," said Trace dropping his pants and fisting his cock. Both of the boys were hard as rocks at the prospect of fucking Anne and Corrine. They humped a load in their twats as I took close-ups with a video camera. After they shot their first load, I knelt between the two and used my mouth to get them hard again. This time Anne and Corrine were butt fucked. Once again I worked the camera. I got some great shots of jism oozing out of their orifices.

After the issue of whether a cock had ever been inside one of their orifices had been settled once and for all, Trace set things up for the rest of the night. He put lube, condoms, and wet wipes on the nightstand.

Robbie started visiting trucker's cabs in the parking lot and inviting them to fuck these two nymphomaniacs in Room 112. Once he told a few truckers they were using their CB radios and cell phones to spread the word that there was some young college girl pussy ready and waiting at the truck stop.

Robbie, Trace, and I sat in Room 110 watching the monitors as trucker after trucker blew their load in Anne and Corrine. It was a definite one hundred plus gangbang that lasted from nine at night to four in the morning. After the last trucker had splattered Anne's insides with jism, we packed everything up.

We drove the two back to their cabin where we dumped them on the bed with the other girls.

The family picked us up early that morning and I never saw Anne or Corrine again. However, Trace turned all the raw video footage over to a friend of his that edited it into a two hour DVD. That fall Trace mailed a copy of the DVD to a student he knew at UMASS. The student downloaded it to one of the college's servers and sent an anonymous email to the student body with the location of the DVD file and the fact that the girls were two well-known lesbians by the name of Anne and Corrine. Internet access was so intense it took the server down several times. By the time the school administration figured out what was happening, there had been several thousand downloads of the file.

Later, the DVD turned up in video stores. All in all it was pure Trace, patient, well planned and executed without a flaw. He was a wonderful person, a great fuck, and someone I was proud to be related to.

As Megan finished and another relative took the podium for the second eulogy, Diego and Servero decided that that I had all the electrical torture that I could stand. My vision was blurred. My heart was beating irregularly and there were places inside my body that were causing me hellish pain.

Mary Ellen arrived to wipe off snot dripping from my nose.

"Don't you look a fright," said Mary Ellen passing a lace handkerchief under my nostrils.

"Water," I croaked.

She surprised me by holding a bottle of Evian to my lips. I choked at first but managed to drink most of it.

"I'm going to give you a shot to make you more alert. I wouldn't want you to miss the next part," said Mary Ellen opening a brief case then filling a syringe from a small bottle.

"I can't stand anymore. Kill me," I pleaded.

"You can stand more than you think," said Mary Ellen. "Where do you want it?"

"Arm," I said but that was a ruse. When I spoke, Mary Ellen grabbed my tongue is a forceps and pulled it out.

"Hold her head still," she ordered Diego. My head was gripped in his muscular arms.

"Ever had a shot in your tongue?" asked Mary Ellen.

I couldn't talk so I pleaded with my eyes for her not to use my tongue.

"Hurts like hell they tell me," said Mary Ellen as she put the needle into the base of my tongue and pushed the plunger. It was a thick needle and having it puncture my tongue added to the misery of my existence. I was beginning to wonder if there would ever be an end to the pain I was enduring.

""Hook her and hang her over Trace's coffin," said Mary Ellen.

Chapter 16 – Suspension

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

I was hanging like a piñata over Trace's coffin. That's not exactly accurate. A piñata hangs by a single strand but hundred of small hooks connected by clear fishing line were keeping me aloft. Droplets of my blood were falling like a gentle summer rain on the silver coffin staining the flag ceremoniously draped over the top. When the honor guard at the gravesite folded it up and handed it to me he kept glancing at the blood spots wondering what idiot used a bloody flag.

I don't know how you tell someone in words the level of pain I was in. Perhaps Edgar Allan Poe would be capable of describing how it feels to suffer in such a way. I'm no stranger to pain but that was beyond anything I can ever experienced. And that's from someone who had just been subjected to a session of electrical torture that would do the Gestapo proud. Now, I can write about it but at the time it was so intense I was only conscious of one thing and that was the searing agony being produced from countless places on my body.

There was a titanium pole down my back that kept me rigidly straight. The pole had been especially fabricated for a 'hook hanging'. I certainly couldn't imagine any other use for it. The two-inch diameter titanium rod ran down the center of my spine from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. It was adjustable lengthwise. Leather straps bound my forehead, ankles, and waist rigidly to the pole. My arms were pulled behind by back also fixed to the pole. When they first restrained me to the pole, I was frightened they were going to place me over a bed of live coals and barbecue me to feed the wake. But they had something far more esoteric and brutal than cooking me for lunch.

I'd seen a 'hook hanging' once before at an S&M club in Hamburg, Germany; but it was in no way as sophisticated as what I experienced. I was in my sophomore year at college and doing the American college girl hitchhikes through Europe thing giving anybody who gave me a ride a blowjob or a fuck depending on what they fancied. Europeans are very open about sex not at all like we repressed Americans. I fondly recall being bent over the hood of an Opel, my jeans at my ankles waiving at passing cars on the autobahn as one of the boys who gave me a ride to Munich pounded my pussy. Oh to be young and a carefree coed again.

One of my New York friends had given me the address of an S&M club frequented by what she classified as the most extreme practitioners on the continent. My friend had told me that it was the best if you were interested in fetishes involving blood and horrible suffering. When she was there, she'd watched a mistress drive nails through a slave's scrotum. Since she was a guest, the mistress invited her to come up on stage and demonstrate her carpentry skills.

"You have no idea what's it like to look into a slave's eyes as you place the nail on the side of his nut and raise the hammer. His suffering was unimaginable. I can still recall how the hammer felt in my hand when it landed on the nail. I took three slow strikes before I reached the board underneath his balls," was how the friend described her experience. Can you imagine nailing a guy's nuts to a board?

I got there just at the right time because it wasn't the normal bill of faire even for Hamburg. A master had caught his slave fucking a deliveryman without his permission. He had asked and received the club's permission to punish the cheating slut on stage before an audience.

After I dumped my stuff at the hostel, I hailed a taxi and handed the driver the address my friend had written down. The driver looked at the address then gave me a look, shook his head and drove me there. There wasn't a sign outside just a doorway. I knocked and was admitted.

You hear a lot about anti-Americanism in Europe but I can assure you it does not apply to the S&M crowd. We don't really have a country. A person in the lifestyle had more in common with French or German followers than he does with his straight Boston neighbors. When you're naked strung up on a St. Andrews cross, your alligator-clamped nipples bing ripped off by weights and an expert sadist whipping you bloody as you beg for mercy, nationality is not that important. The club managers invited me in, gave me an excellent glass of sekt, a plate of cheese, some delicious fruit and a table up front. Everything was comped. I'd told them I was in the lifestyle and frequented clubs in the NY area.

The Master and a couple of assistants got busy with the slave who was doing a nice job of crying and pleading for her Master not to hang her by hooks. They fixed the slave to some sort of wooden frame then inserted small hooks all around the edges of her body. They began at the top of her head and went down to the souls of her feet. There was blood everywhere as they placed the hooks about a half-inch apart down both sides of her rib cage. They hooked her inner and outer thighs and ever the edges of her feet. It's a complicated process.

It was erotic listening to her scream as they slowly raised her off the ground. I'd have loved to take some pictures but cameras were strictly forbidden. They used a pulley to take her about six feet. There were between fifty and seventy people in the audience watching as the fraulein suffered. Each time she cried out for mercy the crowd murmured their approval. Many in the audience found her whimpering sufficiently erotic to expose their sex and masturbate. The hooks were made like fishhooks with the barbs removed, not the small hooks you'd use in a lake but the large ones when you fish in the ocean for marlin or swordfish.

The Master spread a white bed sheet on the stage and you could see where her blood drops were making little red dots. They called that the rain of blood. The Manager came over to my table with this blue-eyed blonde youth that looked like he stepped right out of the Hitler Jugend.

"Hans would like to fuck you under the rain of blood, fraulein. He would have asked you himself but his English is poor," said the Manager.

I said Da as I pulled my tee shirt over my head and started to strip. Hans got naked too. Hans was a Siegfried, absolutely gorgeous from his blonde hair to his Aryan feet. The audience watched as we positioned ourselves under the slave. You could feel the drops landing on you as we lay down. I was on the bottom looking up. I opened my mouth and tasted iron as a drop landed on my tongue.

The audience murmured its approval as Hans and I fucked in a dozen different positions while the slave's blood landed on us. Before my Siegfried dumped his load in his Valkyrie's twat we were turning vermilion. Being fucked while blood is dropping on you is extreme but also very stimulating. I climaxed as I sensed Ham was pumping me full of Aryan sperm.

After Hans and I left the stage, they lowered the slave who looked more dead than alive. However, she found the energy to scream as they removed the hooks and sponged her off with alcohol so I suppose she was fine.

Once Diego and Servero had shocked all the pain possible out of my body, Mary Ellen and Denise show up and announced to me that I'm in for something very special. Diego drug over several Louis Vuitton trunks and stood them on end. They opened one to reveal a number of different sized drawers all labeled very neatly. From another trunk, they removed and extended my mounting pole. I noticed the leather straps on the pole were monogrammed with the overlaid 'LV' found on most of the products of La Belle France's most famous maker of leather goods. Trace and I received a full set of Louis Vuitton luggage for a wedding gift. I recalled reading how the famous leather maker had gotten his start doing custom jobs for royalty. If the Maharaja Of Ranchipur needed luggage so he and his twenty-five wives could visit Paris for the opera, he had Louis make it. Somehow, the Donaldson's had persuaded someone at Louis Vuitton to create a trunk to carry what you need to hang your wife or girlfriend with hooks.

After I was bound to the pole, the four of them lifted me on top of Trace's casket. The next part amazed me. From one of the trunks, emerged a set of titanium poles they assembled into a tall tripod that straddled both the coffin and me. The top of the tripod must have been a good fifteen feet above the floor and directly below the apex was an electric hoist controlled by a remote. Below the hoist was a Plexiglas rectangle roughly the size of a human being. The Plexiglas contained hundreds of small brass fittings each designed to securely attach a monofilament line. It looked like fishing line.

The process worked like this. Out of a drawer in the Louis Vuitton trunk you select the right size hook. The names of body parts such as 'arm', 'thigh', or 'feet' were neatly labeled across the front of the drawers. The hook was attached to a strand of fishing line that was approximately three feet long. You set the hook in the flesh then reach up to attach the free end of the line to one of the fittings in the Plexiglas making sure there is no slack.

Mary Ellen did my mouth and face. She grabbed my upper lip and rolled it back and stuck the barb through from the inside out. She placed four hooks in my upper lip and four in my lower. She pulled my tongue out with forceps and set three hooks in the muscle without a bone. When she slipped a hook into my nostril and then pushed its point out of the top of my nose, blood spurted in my eye.

Diego and Servero used larger hooks for my breasts. They set hooks around the circumference of the base of each breast ever half inch or so. Next they did an inner circle of my areola and a final hook through my nipple.

Denise grabbed each toe, setting the hook on the underside at the base forcing it through out the top of the toe, one hook per toe.

After Mary Ellen did my lips, tongue, nostrils, and ears, she moved down to my sex. I felt her pulling on my labia and then a sharp pain as a hook went through the flap of skin.

They saved my clitoris for last.

"Rozz, this is how it feels when someone puts a hook in your clit," said Mary Ellen smiling and looking into my eyes as she pushed a hook in and under my clit passing the point through the nerve ganglia at the base. Just to be sure, she set one from the other side.

The four of them worked as a team. That made me think they had done it all before. God knows where and to whom.

"Ready?" questioned Mary Ellen picking up the remote control for the hoist.

The others murmured they were done and my pain filled brain heard the whir of an electric motor as I was slowly lifted off the ground. I won't try to describe the pain. If you need to understand what I was going through then grind the barb off a fishhook, run it through the tip of your tongue and pull on it. Then multiply what you feel by a factor of several hundred.

There was a loud murmur of approval from the audience as I traveled upward. I was terrified that one of the hooks would tear through and that would cause a domino effect shredding my flesh as I dropped down on to Trace's casket. With my tongue stretched out and bearing part of my weight, I couldn't properly scream. It was more of a chortle. I later learned my situation inspired a good old fashion Donaldson family orgy. Out of the corner of my eye I could see part of the room.

Family members had undressed and were having sex with one another. Wives fucked sons and fathers bent their daughters over the furniture and penetrated them. Little Donaldson's too young for sex ran through the crowd playing tag as their parents and older siblings cavorted in a manner that would have made a Roman Emperor blush.

When I glanced down my body, the sight of two bloody hooks emerging from the top of my nose greeted me. I closed my eyes and prayed for death to release me from my pain.

They say funerals and weddings bring out something in people. I could swear to that.

I was suspended for over an hour. They lowered me down and removed the hooks painting me with hydrogen peroxide. They unfastened me from the pole. I recalled Diego and Servero careful cleaning and repacking everything in the Louis Vuitton trunks. A real craftsman respects his tools.

I was lying there moaning and incoherent but I do recall a lucid moment when I looked up to see my mother-in-law. Lois was naked and she was stroking my brow as she spoke with Mary Ellen and Denise who also happened to be naked. I was lying on the cold floor. The fact that Denise had a pearly strand of semen in her hair caught my eye.

"The General said Rozz has suffered enough. Let her rest," said Lois as she held my hand.

"You mean he wants her to live after what she did," said Mary Ellen sounding pissed.

"For now, after all she was Trace's wife," said Lois.

"She's also a whore and a slut who'll fuck anything with a dick," said Mary Ellen.

"None of us are perfect," said Lois. "Now mind your father and have Diego and Servero put her in the limo.

"Let's sell her to a brothel in Amazonia like we did with Marion," said Denise.

"Rozz's too old for that. Marion was only fourteen when we gave her to Don Ricardo," said Lois.

"Shit, that's right, Don Ricardo considers fifteen past a woman's prime," said Denise.

I had no idea who this Marion was. I'd never heard the name before in connection with the Donaldsons. I recall being wrapped in something soft and being carried out to the limo. When I got back to my room at the Donaldsons I had just enough energy left to reach into my bag and pull out a vial of painkillers. I took two and collapsed.

Chapter 17 – Five Star Vacation

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

The General whisked me away immediately after the funeral that I barely made it through. Thank God I was allowed to sit down or I would have toppled over into the grave. If I had, Mary Ellen would have opened the coffin and put me inside on Trace's remains then buried me alive. For some reason she really had it in for me.

Why did the General send me off on a vacation? I do not know. Maybe he just didn't want Mary Ellen to murder me. There was no doubt that if I stayed around, our diminutive first lieutenant would find a way to kill me in some unbelievably painful fashion. My guess is that he wants to keep me around as a sex object. He's fucked me several times and likes my 'never met a cock I didn't like' attitude. Anyway right after Trace's funeral, he handed me a first class ticket to Nevis and pushed me in the direction of the family limo.

"I've made a reservation for two weeks at the Four Seasons Resort. Rest up. Fuck the locals and have a good time. You deserve it,' said General Donaldson his hand on my ass as he hurried me to the limo.

"I need to pack," I protested as he escorted me to the car.

"Buy what you need when you arrive. You're a rich widow. Behave like one," said the General as I painfully walked toward the waiting vehicle. Without painkillers, I would have been screaming. Beatings, gang rape, electrical shock, and suspension with fishhooks had come close to making me a permanent head case.

"When you get back, Lois and I will take you to our cabin in Maine for some quiet fucking, just the three of us," said the General once I was seated beside him. His hand was already up my skirt massaging my sex as we pulled out of the driveway.

"That would be nice, Daddy. You know I think the world of you and Lois," I said noticing that my panties were already wet. I spread my legs wider to give him better access. You might think my behavior somewhat lewd for a recent widow but I never believed in letting the dead affect the living.

"How about a quickie on the way to the airport?" said the General pulling my head toward his lap.

I wasn't physically up to it but let's face it I owed the man. I tugged his zipper down as I hiked my skit up. After I freed his cock, I provided the best blowjob I was capable of under the circumstances. Getting a man hard with your mouth is one of the most satisfying things a person can do. At first it's just a limp hunk of flesh but with effort and skill it slowly changes and something that was soft and pliable becomes firm and rigid. Once it's erect, you can force the head into your throat opening and enjoy the sensation of having your esophagus expanded. Even though it was an act I had been doing for well over a decade and had performed hundreds (maybe thousands I never kept count) it had not lost its excitement.

For a fifty-year-old man, he was remarkably easy to arouse. I suspect Viagra was involved. He was erect in no time and I was able to massage the lining of my throat with his cockhead and taste some excellent precum.

Becoming aroused in spite of my physical discomfort I became desperate to fill the empty cavity between my legs I hiked my skirt further up above my waist and removed my pantyhose and panties. I spread my vagina open with my fingers and in one swift graceful motion straddled the General sliding his cock in me on the first try. His cock fit like OJ's glove. The fact that I was still sore somehow made it better. I sounded a long moan of pleasure as the General's penis came to rest deep inside my female plumbing.

"Nice, Rozz, you are the best," breathed the General as his dick reached bottom.

My pussy was sore as hell but still willing. The feeling of a cock initially descending my love canal is always a thrilling sensation no matter how many times it happens. I'd squeezed my cunt muscles to feel each millimeter of the descent. When I straddle a man, I allow my cunt muscles to fight a grudging but losing battle against gravity. Gravity always wins but it's the battle not the war that counts.

The General pushed my silk blouse up under my armpits then forced my bra up exposing my boobs. He knew as well as anyone what a painslut I was so he flattened my nipples with his thumb and forefinger pulled them out as far as he could and twisted them. In spite of the soreness from the fishhooks, I was in ecstasy.

"Oh fuck, hurt my tits, Daddy, please, make them hurt, pinch them, bite them," I cried gasping out my pain and pleasure. Tit torture never loses its appeal for me. I want to be buried with a pair of alligator clamps on my nipples. I hope my guardian angel whips my boobs all the way through the Pearly Gates.

We fucked as we headed down I-90 or the Mass Pike as its known locally. The General had lowered the driver's partition so we had an audience. We picked up the pace as we entered the Ted Williams tunnel and passed under Boston Harbor. I was rubbing my clit with one hand and feeding my nipples to the General's eager mouth with the other. All the while I was bouncing up and down squeezing his hard dick slamming his prick in my hole. Loving the way it felt when I hit what I call the hard bottom. Even ordinary intercourse should be violent and brutish just as it was with our cave man ancestors.

Like any girl who grew up without a lot of material things I love to fuck in a limo with the driver watching. Doesn't every middle class girl dream of taking the high hard one in a stretch limo while the driver jerks off in the front seat?

"Fuck me Daddy. Fuck me hard with that big dick of yours. I'm Daddy's little slut," I pleaded as I started a long slide down Climax Mountain. I was using my little girl voice talking like I was ten. The General liked the Lolita thing. If I lived to get to Maine with Lois and him, I'd have at least one evening where Lois and I would dress up like Shirley Temple and suck him off while he listened to a recording of America's sweetheart singing 'The Good Ship Lollipop'.

I was flying American Airlines so the limo pulled up to Terminal C's drop off area. A too helpful valet opened the door just as the General was depositing his semen in my cunt and I was still climaxing. The cheeky valet held the door open and along with several of his co-workers watched us as we finished. Unruffled, I pulled my blouse down and stepped out of the limo taking the valet's hand. My hand was sticky with pussy juice and semen but the valet didn't seem to mind.

"Let me clean that off for you, Daddy," I said seizing the moment and leaning back into the car to take the General's slimy cock in my mouth and lick it clean. My skirt was still up around my hips and the valets could see the General's cum trickling out my pussy. Exhibitionism always adds something extra to a fuck like Hershey's syrup and sprinkles on vanilla ice cream.

"This is the most wonderful father a girl could ask for," I said to the onlookers as I pulled my bra back down over my boobs and buttoned a couple of buttons on my blouse. I reached into my purse and took out a tissue. I spread my legs and wiped my pussy sponging up semen.

"Would you mind throwing this away for me?" I said to the valet handing him the soaked tissue. I pushed my skirt back down.

"Sure, no problem," said the valet with a 'this can't be happening' look on his face.

"Enjoy Nevis, Rozz," said the General zipping his pants.

"One more kiss goodbye, Daddy," I said leaning in to give the General a porn kiss before turning around and heading into the terminal.

"Oh Rozz, do you need these?" called the General. He was leaning out the limo door holding up the pair of black French cut panties I'd removed. The General always loved a joke.

"No daddy, you keep them for me," I said watching as he buried his nose in them. I sang a few bars from 'My Belongs to Daddy' as I passed through the men who'd watch me exit the limo. Swinging my hips, I walked into the terminal.

There was no doubt that the valets now had a story they could tell their grandchildren. After a short wait in the First Class lounge and a glass of champagne I flew to San Juan sleeping most of the way. I had a brief layover that allowed me to buy some resort wear in the airport shops before I caught the eight seat commuter to St. Kitts where the Four Seasons airport welcoming staff put me in a power boat for the twenty minute ferry ride to Nevis. I was seated in the boat drinking a not too bad rum drink when a family came aboard.

It was one of those odd blended families you meet these days. Collectively, they were the Mastersons. The father, Jason, was late forties, early fifties and not bad looking at all. He must have put in his gym time because he was slender with a flat gut. He had the tan of a man that spends a lot of time on the golf course. He also iron gray hair that I am a real sucker for. If a man with hair like his tells me to lie down I immediately fall backwards spreading my legs as I go.

The wife, Marilyn, was somewhere between twenty-five and thirty. She was a real looker. Later on I learned she was Miss Tennessee and a second runner up in the Miss America Pageant. Marilyn was the quintessential trophy wife and as cold and calculating a bitch as you would ever want to meet. I liked her. When she met Jason at a charity auction he was a happily married man. Six months later he was divorced and remarried to her.

A few years younger than Marilyn was Karen who had just turned twenty two and graduated from University of Tennessee in Knoxville with a degree in public relations. She was the daughter of Jason and his first wife. Karen was also attractive but not the stunner her step mom was. Still she was a leggy blue eyed blonde All American girl with a beautiful tan and a flawless complexion.

Then there were the fifteen-year-old twins, Jake and Judith. They were half sister and brother to Karen being the off spring of Jason and his second wife. Judging from their dark complexion, brown eyes, and curly black hair, I say that Wife Two was a brunette from the Mediterranean area of Europe. Judith was dressed like most girls her age low rider jeans and a belly shirt. Her hips still had that boyish look that drives older dykes crazy. Jake looked to be all muscle. He had the wrists and forearms of someone who was used to swinging a baseball bat or a lacrosse stick.

The last of the off spring was two-year-old Nat who was Marilyn and Jason's child. I learned how they were all related later. Marilyn and Karen looked more like sisters than step mom and daughter. They had absolutely no use for one another. Holding together this odd group was Maria, the Latino nanny who looked after Nat.

I was sitting there in my widow's weeds black from head to toe downing a rum punch when the seven boarded. I was seated on one side of the boat and them on the other. I suppose I did look a little out of place. I hadn't bothered to change in the airport and my shopping bags of resort wear were stowed up front with the luggage. I was wearing a St. Johns two-piece and a rumpled Escada silk blouse. I'd kicked off my black Ferragamo pumps as soon as I got on board. Since it was a Roman Catholic funeral that started with a high mass at the cathedral, my hat, gloves, and veil were sitting on my purse. Not exactly what you call appropriate for a resort.

"Pardon me for asking and I know this is none of my business, but have you lost a love one?" said Marilyn once we were seated. She's was a nosy one.

"Marilyn honey," said Jason in a mild rebuke.

"I buried my husband this morning," I said all of a sudden feeling sad. I'd been worried that I would be bored out of my mind after a few days but all of a sudden I saw some possibilities.

"Oh my Lord, you poor dear. Are you all alone?" said Marilyn.

"Yes, I just had to get away," I said.

"How long had you been married?"

"Marilyn sweetheart, I think you shouldn't intrude," said Jason.

"God yes, leave the poor woman alone," said Karen expressing her disdain for her step mom's nosy behavior.

"Oh its all right, almost three years, we were very happy together," I said realizing that while Mary Ellen might want to kill me for being a widow; others would overload me with sympathy.

"Such a short time, how did it happen?" said Marilyn.

"He was in the army. His Humvee ran over a landmine. He and his Sergeant were killed. The vehicle exploded and burned. It was a closed casket," I said starting to cry.

"Now look what you've done," said Jason who was staring at my legs wondering how long I intended to grieve and whether a good fuck would help me get over my loss.

"You poor dear, oh how I feel for all the widows this war on terror has created," said Marilyn who had practically jumped from her side of the boat to mine. She had her arm around me in an instant and had come up with a small handkerchief to dab the tears off my cheek.

"What was his rank?" asked Jake. He was also eyeing my legs. I hadn't fucked a fifteen-year-old boy since I was fifteen or sixteen. I wonder if Jake was as quick to reload his gun as I recalled most fifteen years old males were.

"He was a Major in Special Forces, Major Trace Donaldson"

"Wow, I bet he was tough. Those Special Forces guys are tough," said Jake.

"Ms. Donaldson, if my family is bothering you, just say the word and I'll make them shut up," said Jason. He was playing the protective male who would later show me how best to assuage my grief.

"No bother at all. I'm Captain Rosalind Donaldson by the way. Everyone calls me Rozz."

"Did you hear that, Jason. Rozz is a hero too, the heroic widow of a dead hero," said Marilyn who I later learned had a degree in communications and had worked as a local news anchor. It sounded like something a news anchor would say.

"Are you in Special Forces too?" asked Jake.

"No, I'm a nurse assigned to the 544 ^th medical battalion currently stationed at a hospital in Kuwait. I'm an OR supervisor," I said.

"Oh you poor sweet thing," said Marilyn hugging me so tight I could barely breathe.

"I'm interested in nursing as a career," piped up little Judith. "Can you talk to be about it sometime?"

"Of course I'd be glad to," I said smiling at Judith who was cute, cuddly, and therefore irresistible. I wondered how her pussy would taste. Did she use a strawberry flavored douche?

The ferryboat had left the dock and as it passed out into the strait from the protected harbor the water got rougher and the bow started to slam into the waves. That woke little Nat who started to cry. That occasioned Maria to pluck him out of his carrier and hold him.

"We're the Mastersons by the way," Jason who proceeded to introduce his family to me. Jason owned a plant in Nashville that manufactured corrugated boxes. He had some other business interests. I assumed he was rich since he was taking seven people on vacation to a five star resort.

It was close to midnight when we arrived at the dock. A sleeping looking reception committee met us and walked us to our accommodations. The fact that I had two shopping bags and no luggage created a small stir. The resort had two types of accommodations: rooms and villas. Thanks to the General's generosity I has a two-bedroom villa. The villas were really complete houses and they included a private swimming pool and a Jacuzzi. It was a short walk to the beach.

The Masterson's were in the villa next door, a much larger five-bedroom facility. My reservation was for two weeks. I stripped naked, took a shower, and collapsed across the bed. I slept twelve hours straight.

I was slowly waking up when I heard a quiet voice whispering, "Rozz, Ms. Donaldson, are you all right?"

I opened one eye and there was Karen peeking into the bedroom. I was sprawled across the bed naked.

"Oh I'm sorry," she blurted out. "Marilyn insisted I come over here and check on you. I told her you probably wanted to be left alone."

"It's okay, come on in," I said stretching and arching my back. I unobtrusively watched her as I stretched. She appeared interested.

"Can I fix some coffee?" asked Karen.

"That would be wonderful," I said.

I lay there thinking what a challenge it would be to seduce an entire family even the nanny. I'd have to give Nat a rain check but the rest of the Masterson's qualified. It wasn't long before Karen returned carrying a tray with two cups of steaming coffee.

"I hope you don't mind but I forgot to pack a robe. Actually I forgot to pack anything," I said as Karen sat the tray on the nightstand.

"I think the human body is beautiful and we shouldn't be so self-conscious," said Karen. She was wearing a light blue top and white shorts courtesy of Ralph Lauren. She looked healthy, blonde, and just dying to be screwed. My mouth was practically watering. I warned myself to take it slow and don't scare her.

"I agree. We worry entirely too much about clothes. Hop in," I said moving to one side of the bed and indicating she should take the other. I was pleasantly surprised when she joined me stretching out a pair of shapely well-tanned legs.

"You're a very beautiful woman, Rozz," said Karen looking me over. "You must feel terribly sad to have lost your husband."

"And you are a very beautiful girl," I said turning toward her. "I need to talk about something besides myself and widowhood. Tell me. Any men in your life?"

"Not now," said Karen looking a little pained.

"Something happened."

"He turned out to be a major slime ball. I was so stupid. Roland and I were going to get married. We had even set a date."

"And he disappointed you?"

"Yes, by sticking his cock in my best friend. Corey and I went all the way through grammar school, middle school, and high school together. We were inseparable and roomed together at UT."

"Did you catch them in the act?"

"Yes and how. I'd left to drive home to Nashville for the weekend but I forgot a textbook I needed for a paper so I turned around. Corey was on top of Roland doing a cowgirl. I went ballistic and tried to kill them with a kitchen knife."

"No one got injured I hope."

"Only me. Roland took the knife away and slapped me. Then he punched me in the stomach. Corey slapped me too and made my nose bleed," said Karen who was starting to mist up.

"Better to find out then than five years after you're married and have two kids," I said.

"I suppose you're right. Actually I felt more betrayed by Corey than Roland. I thought she really cared for me. She and I were so close or at least I thought we were. We shared everything with one another or at least I thought we did. She admitted that she and Roland had been getting it on for months. She taunted me about how he would screw her with his cock covered in my pussy juice. She called me a fool and said that she had banged this boy I was going steady with in high school. She is a total slut."

"It seems like we both have had some difficult moments," I said putting my arm around Karen and drawing her head to my shoulder. My naked breast was resting against her chest. I half expected her to pull back but she rolled my way letting her arm rest on my abdomen.

"Mine's nothing compared to yours," sniffed Karen. "Losing a husband has got to be much worse than a fiancé."

"Maybe we poor wounded females can comfort each other," I said putting my hand under her chin and raising her face to look directly in her eyes.

"I could use a little comfort," said Karen. "Marilyn considers the word 'sympathy' a synonym for 'shit'. She is such a bitch. She treats daddy like a doormat and he lets her. I think she fucks around every chance she gets."

"Shush, forget about Marilyn for now. Why don't you just relax? Melt down in the mattress and allow me to do something that will calm the both of us," I said brushing my lips against hers.

Seducing femmes was new to me. I'm not saying that I'm new to lesbian sex. I've eaten more than my share of cunt but in an environment where seduction was not required. The Latino nurses in my unit were just as eager to get their head between my legs as I was their's.

"All right, sounds nice," said Karen taking a deep breath and closing her eyes in an obvious sign of surrender. She knew exactly what I intended to do.

I kissed down Karen's body paying particular attention to her belly and navel as I unsnapped her shorts. At any moment, I half expected her to call a halt to the proceedings but she didn't. When I grabbed the waistband of her shorts and she lifted her hips to assist me, I knew I was home free. I passed my tongue over her love button once her shorts and panty were on the floor beside the bed. That occasioned a loud moan and an, "oh yes," followed by a spreading of the legs and a rotation of her thighs to open her hips and push out her sex. The girl knew what she wanted.

After a few long figure eights with my tongue encircling her clit at the top and her vagina as the bottom, I performed a finger test that showed her oil was pumping like a Kuwaiti field. I kissed back up her body taking off her top as I went. I went slow and took my time switching my mouth between her breasts, mouth, ears, and neck while my hand worked her clit and vagina.

Karen was noisy and verbal. Her libido caused her to breathe like she had just run a competitive mile. And for someone who looked like Miss Wholesome she had an interesting vocabulary and the instincts of a painslut.

"Lick my knockers, lick them motherfuckers, that's right, Rozz, bite them, bite my tits," came out in a torrent of words. She had captured her nipples in her fingers and was running a high-pressure stretch test.

Karen pulled my mouth to hers and gave me a wild-eyed look as she cried, "Make me your bitch, Rozz, I want to be your bitch."

"You are my bitch, you little slut," I said not wanting to disappoint and totally thrilled that my seduction of the Masterson's had gotten off to such a good start. "You'll do anything I say. Even if I tell you to fuck every black stud on Nevis."

"Yeah, yeah, make me suck their dicks and swallow their cum. I'll do whatever you say," said Karen her eyes closed picturing herself pulling an endless train of handsome black men.

"Tell me you'll take it up the ass and drink their piss," I said wondering if she was really serious.

"God fucking yes, I'll let them butt fuck me then lick the shit off their dicks and swallow their strong yellow," said Karen. The use of the term, 'strong yellow' made me think Karen was no stranger to water sports. The WS crowd can be divided into two groups: those who drink only after the pisser had consumed a couple litters of water and those that like it when it resembles a glass of oak fermented chardonnay. You already know which group I belong to.

I decided to put on my submariner's cap and dive between her legs. It was classic lesbo sex: tongue circling clit, two fingers in her vagina ticking her G-spot and a wet index finger up her ass for the Dirty Sanchez. Women adore a Dirty Sanchez. She hit the big O like a laser-guided bomb taking out an Iraqi grammar school. I thought she'd never stop trashing about and screaming obscenities.

"Now, let me do you," said Karen as soon as she caught her breath.

I rolled on my back reached up and grabbed my big toes with my thumb and first two fingers yoga-style palms inward. You may think that's a little odd but when you wrap your thumb around the base of your big toe and press hard you encounter a very interesting pressure point. It heightens your senses and causes your lower body to relax. The tourniquet effect on my big toe flies right up to my clit. It also rotates your hips outward and exposes your asshole.

"Rim me, bitch," I said.

I didn't have to ask twice. Karen acted like she was trying to get her head up my ass. She circled my sphincter with her lips and sucked my brown hole as her tongue searched for Mr. Goodbar. Some people are better ass eaters than others. Karen was superb at getting my anus to relax so she could work an open hole. She was coordinated enough to finger fuck my vagina and massage my clit simultaneously.

I held on to my big toes as I climaxed.

"That was wonderful," said Karen. We were lying there recovering. My arm was around her and she was snuggled up against me.

"Karen, I think we both need to have some fun during the next two weeks. I know I'm a recent widow but Trace and I saw very little of each other because of our Army careers. I hope you don't think badly of me but I need to party not sit around and think about my loss."

"Rozz, I'm your bitch for the next two weeks. Don't worry about what I think. I understand what you're saying. Let's have fun and life can go back to being serious when we go back to the US," said Karen.

"Good, you know what I feel like doing?"

"Just tell your little slut and I'm for it," said Karen.

"Let's fool around in the shower," I said.

Fifteen minutes later, Karen was on her back on the shower stall with her mouth on my urethra. I hadn't pissed since I woke up so I was packing some very strong yellow.

"Go ahead, Rozz, I need it," said Karen. You could see in her eyes that she meant what she said.

I squatted over her open mouth and allowed a small squirt to spray on her face. It was aged piss, dark yellow more of a gold.

"Oh fuck that's delicious," said Karen using her tongue to capture the drops on her lips.

"Let's not waste a drop. Put your mouth on my piss hole," I said positioning my cunt closer to her mouth.

"I want it all," said Karen placing her mouth over my spring of golden liquid and sucking on the hole.

I released it slowly so she could keep up. We didn't waste a drop. I had a very full bladder but Karen was determined and she just kept swallowing mouthful after mouthful.

When I finished and helped her up, she showed me she had a little round belly.

"This is so fucking hot," I said gently rubbing her swollen abdomen.

"I'm piss pregnant," said Karen kissing me and allowing me to taste my own urine on her lips.

Chapter 18 – Marilyn

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

I didn't really have a plan to seduce the Masterson's they just sort of fell into my bed on their own. After I'd established Karen the stepdaughter as my piss drinking bitch, Marilyn came offering sympathy to the widow. I took the sympathy and quite a bit more.

"How are you doing, really? We're all so concerned about you," asked Marilyn who had just sat down beside me in my double chaise. It was afternoon of my third day at the resort. The resort had a beautiful beach. I was reading a novel I'd bought in the resort's store and taking occasional glances at the young male hotel worker who took care of the row of chaises that faced the ocean. He was a superb physical specimen, handsome, cold black skin, not an ounce of body fat and a sizeable bulge in his trunks. He handed out fresh towels, gave beach toys to the children, and came by periodically to spray the guests with cool Evian water.

On his last watering visit, I'd dropped my top discreetly and asked him if he knew where Villa 10 was. He made sure the cool water landed on my nipples.

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied in a deep baritone voice that resonated through my body right down to my clit. His teeth were startling white and the smile was a winner.

"After you're done here, could you find your way there?" I asked.

"$50 for four hours, $100 for the night," whispered the boy.

"All right," I said realizing that it was the first time I'd ever agreed to pay for sex. Just the idea was a turn on. He was all mine for four hours. I was imaging how his mouth would feel on my pussy when Marilyn plunked herself down beside me.

It was a glorious warm day and the resort was busy. Several yachts were anchored off shore the largest of which was the size of a small cruise ship. Moments ago, it's helicopter had carried some of the yacht's occupants overhead to land at the resort's golf course. I'd decided that being a rich widow was not a bad life style and that renting a young boy for the night went with the territory.

"Fine, it's sweet of you to ask," I said invoking my widow's voice. Marilyn had a body that bordered on perfection. She reminded me of Pamela Anderson. It was far too perfect to be natural. The bikini top barely covered her obviously augmented breasts. I wondered how many times she had gone under the knife to achieve her perfection. The almost too full lips were packed with collagen. A scalpel had sculptured the retrousse nose. The abs were the result of thousands of crunches. Karen had told me that her stepmother worked out 365 days a year no exceptions. Liposuction had reshaped the hips, thighs, and buttocks. Still real or not, she looked fabulous and I wanted her.

The chaise was large enough for two adults to lie down and not come in contact but when she climbed into mine, her bare legs pressed against mine from hip to knee sending a tremor through my psyche. Her leg felt warm against my thigh.

"Where's the rest of the Masterson clan?" I asked pressing my right leg a little firmer against hers. She passed the test by not moving away. We were both wearing a minimal bikini. I'd had to get a Brazilian wax job to wear mine without embarrassing myself. I could see the outline made by her labia in the soft material. I pictured my head between her legs sucking on her sex. Rozz, you got to get some of that I told myself.

"Jason's on the gold course. Jake and Judith are taking their tennis lesson," said Marilyn.

Karen and Maria were at the ocean's edge helping Nat build a sandcastle. It didn't take a genius to discover that Nat was not foremost in Marilyn's mind. Karen was more of a mother to the boy than Marilyn. God knows who little Nat thought was Mommie. I'd guess Maria followed by Karen. Marilyn would have been third on his list.

"Trace and I were talking about starting a family once our tours were over," I said starting to cry.

"Go ahead honey, and cry, you just cry your eyes out if you want to," said Marilyn pulling my head down to her breasts. It was not easy to resist pushing her top down and sucking a nipple. They were about two inches from my lips.

"I was so lucky for the short time we had. Trace Donaldson was a real man. I worshipped him," I sobbed.

"There, there," said Marilyn holding me firmly against that fabulous body.

"He'd be disappointed in me for acting this way," I said.

"Why is that, Rozz?"

"Trace always said that if he was killed in a combat zone, I was to mourn for five days then go out get drunk and get laid. He said I should move on. Don't be a professional widow he used to tell me."

"He must have been a wonderful husband," said Marilyn.

"When he said jump, I asked how high on the way up. When he said kneel down, I dropped to my knees and when he said bend over and grab my ankles I was so happy. He was nothing like most men you meet these days. He was a warrior on the battlefield and in bed. He was from a family of warriors who'd served their country since the Battle of Yorktown," I said.

"You were very lucky to have such a man," said Marilyn looking almost jealous.

"Jason seems like a fine man," I said.

"He's a sweetheart. He's not exactly a warrior but he's handsome and just to be tacky about it, rich," said Marilyn. "When you don't come from money, money matters a lot."

I suppose Marilyn had summed up her philosophy of life pretty well. She understood the one thing we had in common was rich husbands. She probably envied me the fact that mine was dead.

"I hope you don't think I'm an awful person but I need cheering up. Trace would not want me weeping over him this long. There's supposed to be a nice little bar about a quarter mile down the beach. They have a band and everything. Would you join me for a walk and let me buy you a drink?"

"I'd be happy too," said Marilyn not seeing the need to stay and supervise her son.

Actually, Gordon had told me the bar was pretty wild and had a reputation as a place where the locals preyed on female tourists not that women who come to the islands aren't looking to be preyed on.

"Last month, one of our guest's fourteen year old daughter went there on a lark. She went in a virgin. When she came staggering back two hours later, she told her parents that she had been assaulted multiple times in all three orifices," said Gordon after he had finished fucking me on the couch in his office.

"Did they have the perps arrested?"

"Not hardly, against our advice they called the local constabulary."

"And?"

"No one saw anything or heard anything. The bar owners threatened to have the girl arrested for slander. The laws are much different here you know."

"And if a tourist is raped?"

"She had better chalk it up to experience and as you Americans say move on. Locals are immune from prosecution for raping a tourist or any woman for that matter."

"So that was the end of it?"

"No, they are trying to sue the Fours Seasons Corporation back in the states?"

Fifteen minutes later, we were seated at the bar of a beach shack called 'Waco's'. The establishment was packed and we were lucky to get two seats. Even though it was mid afternoon, the crowd was pretty drunk. Clientele was a mixture of locals and tourists.

We ordered the house special drink that was a concoction of four different rums and several types of fruit juice. It was one of those drinks that goes down very easy but hits you like a freight train. The short walk in the sun had made us thirsty and we downed the first drink quickly and ordered another.

The band wasn't that good but it didn't need to be. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. There were a number of college age kids dancing. The girls kept pulling up their shirts to show their tits as they danced. An older woman, she must have been forty and drunk out of her mind, took her top off to display a decent set of knockers. She threw herself into the arms of one of the locals rubbing her tits on his bare chest as her husband looked proudly on.

"Elle's always been a slut when she drinks," announced the man I assumed was her husband. Elle was busily sucking on the local's nipples as she rubbed his cock through his shorts.

"Did you ever go on spring break and act wild?" I asked watching two of the young girls porn kiss as the pinched each other's nipples. The crowd was more men than women. I sensed some sexual tension in the air as the local men watched the young girls expose their breasts. It had the look of a crowd that could get out of hand pretty quick. I knew Gordon was right about the legal issue of non-consensual sex between a native and a tourist. If an islander raped a female tourist, her chance of justice was nil. The locals weren't up to prosecuting one of their own for forcing his cock into someone from the US.

"God yes, Cancun, my junior year," said Marilyn her tongue loosened by the second Waco Special. One thing I learned that day was that Marilyn could not hold her liquor. She was staring hard at the two young girls making out on the dance floor. Her nipples were showing through the thin material.

"What happened? Tell me."

"I entered a wet tee shirt contest and won. That was just for starters. I wound up naked on the beach with some men I didn't even know," said Marilyn.

"I've seen those videos. Girls take off more than a tee shirt," I said.

"I remember being down to my thong then pulling it aside for the audience when I won," said Marilyn. "I was something of an exhibitionist when I was younger."

"So was I. I used to take my panties off for fifth period and flash my Algebra teacher, Mr. Simpkins. He gave me an A."

"Rozz, you strike me as the kind of female that's honest, sincere, and trustworthy. So if I tell you certain things, I can count on them staying with you. Can't I?"

"Of course you can, Marilyn. And I feel the same about you. Being an Army nurse isn't exactly the same as being a nun, too many handsome doctors, orderlies and to be completely honest, pretty nurses," I said wondering how she'd react to my confession of bisexuality.

"I find you very pretty," said Marilyn leaning in to give me a light kiss on the lips.

"Whatever happens here or anywhere is just between us," I said returning her kiss.

"I knew from the first moment I laid eyes on you that we were soul mates," said Marilyn planting a serious tongue kiss on me.

"Let's dance," I said needing a few minutes to plan my next move.

Marilyn's talent in the Miss American pageant was dancing. She had a great sense of natural rhythm. I love to dance too and took ballet, tap, and jazz high school and college. On the dance floor among that bunch of drunks we were a hot pair. The music was a hip swinging meringue. The meringue is a simple dance once you get the motion. The meringue ended and maybe because Marilyn and I were all over each other the band played a lambada. The Lambada is a sexy full body contact dance whose closest American counterpart was probably the LA Grind.

I hadn't been on the dance floor long when I felt a hand untie the knot that held my top on. I figured what the hell and let my top fall forward. I gave my tits a big shake as they became free. I tossed the top on a nearby chair. Marilyn had lost her top so we were putting on quite a show. There was a moment of reverential silence as Marilyn's huge knockers became fully visible. They were big firm titties with nipples the size of quarters.

We danced rubbing our boobs together. The college girls made it a group dance and I found myself kissing some coed as we writhed together on the dance floor. The girl stuck her hand in my bikini bottom and felt my pussy and I returned the favor.

At that point, several of the men started dancing with us and before long I was dancing with two of the natives who were taking turns kissing my breasts. One of them had his hand down the front of my bikini bottom and I felt the rough fingers of a fisherman rake across my clit.

When I took a look around for Marilyn I couldn't see her. I kept dancing until the song ended. Still not finding Marilyn, I decided she must have gone to the Ladies Room. I was a little concerned and feeling a need to pee, I walked toward the exit marked Restrooms. I noticed that the two men that I had been dancing with followed me toward the Exit but I thought they must have been heading to the restroom also since the band had taken a break.

I walked down a short hallway and passed through a door to the outside. I immediately saw two Port-A-Potty. But it was what on the ground between the outdoor johns that caught my eye. Someone had placed several of the woven beach mats on the sand. And right there on the ground under the Nevis sun there were a couple of the college girls lying on the mats with a man on top of them. One of the girls was begging them not to rape her. Since the man between her legs had already achieved penetration that seemed academic.

And between the girls there was Marilyn down all her hands and knees with one cock in her pussy and another in her mouth. She was enthusiastically pulling the first car of what looked to be a long train. There was a large group of black men and a several college boys waiting their turn with the three.

When I hesitated a few seconds taking in the scene and trying to understand what was happening, two of the locals grabbed my arms and half carried and drug me to an empty mat. My bikini bottoms were pulled off and a native climbed between my legs and skewered me. We're not talking foreplay here. No kisses, no hugs, he spread my legs wide while a buddy held my hands over my head. He spit on my pussy then used his cock head to smear his saliva around. He parted my labia with his dick, found the hole and pushed inside. Since my cunt was almost dry, it hurt like hell at first. Once he had entered me, his co-rapist let go of my hands. One hand went to my clit in an attempt to push the start button on my lube dispensers as the other wrapped around the back of his head and pulled him down for a passionate rape kiss.

Seeing that I was not exactly struggling or pleading for him to desist, my rapist gave me a big smile then started pounding away. I'd divide the crowd into spectators and participants. Among the spectators were two local females who offered encouragement to the men raping the tourists. On a resort island like Nevis, practically the only available work for women was cleaning the rooms of women like those spread out on those mats getting fucked. Undoubtedly it made for a certain amount of resentment. Seeing us being publicly humiliated partially made up for cleaning our toilets.

I was willing to help the third world lose their feelings of hostility so I wrapped my legs around the individual screwing me and humped his cock like a nymphomaniac who'd just escaped from five years in a convent.

I heard someone whispering, "That's right, pound my dirty hole." When I glanced over I saw that Marilyn was on her knees and elbows taking it up the ass.

One of the girls was crying as she was raped. What the hell did she expect? When a tourist takes off her top in a third world country, rape is only moments away. My first dropped his load and was promptly replaced. When I looked over his shoulder, I saw that we had drawn an even larger crowd. There was a long line waiting their turn.

There's an old saying I subscribe to. If rape is inevitable, you might as well lie back and enjoy it. The fact that the girl to my right was sobbing and asking them to leave her alone gave it the proper ambiance for a gang rape. Each time a new guy mounted her she screamed and started babbling about being on her honeymoon. That made it interesting.

I adjusted my position to get more comfortable and began to fuck back in earnest. Based on the barrage of filthy talk, moans, groans, and grunts that Marilyn was sounding she also subscribed to the philosophy of enjoying the inevitable. After maybe a dozen loads had been deposited in my vagina and three in my asshole (these guys were not into oral), I was mounted by one of the tourists. He was handsome in an Italian looking way. The kind that hung around Kelly's Roast Beef in Revere Beach in the summer waiting for sluts like me to drive in and sample the pepperoni.

He stuck his cock in my ass gave me a dozen hard strokes then switched to my asshole.

"Your backdoor's still tight," he said.

"What's your name?" I asked recognizing the accent.

"Tony."

"You sound like you're from Revere."

"Fucking A, Revere High School. Going to Bunker Hill Community to get my associates."

"Rozz, Saugus High School, I'm an Army nurse." He hadn't asked my name but I gave it anyway. For the records I now knew the name of at least one of the men who was raping me.

At that point, the young lady who objected to being gang raped screamed, "Not my ass, don't put your cock in my ass please." That was followed by a scream of pain indicating her partner had ignored her wishes and shoved his large black cock deep into her rectum.

"Cathy's such a drama queen," remarked Tony with a look of disgust on his face.

"You know her?" I asked pumping his cock squeezing it with the same set of muscles I used to force my turds out. Ass fucking is similar to taking a very large shit.

"Fucking A, I married her last week. Think this will cause her to loose the baby? I should be so lucky," said Tony as he pounded his dick up my ass.

"Hard to say," I grunted somewhat fascinated that Tony was so nonchalant about what was happening to Cathy and that he had decided to be a participant in the gang rape.

"Have you fucked the big titted blonde?" I asked.

"Yeah, what a nympho, drunk out of her mind and cock crazy," said Tony. "Squeeze my cock when you feel my balls slap your ass."

"How was she?" I said pushing hard with the muscles lining my rectum.

"The blonde?"

"Yeah, the blonde."

"Just another piece of ass, nothing special, like you Rozz. You whores can't get enough in the states so you come down here for all this black dick."

"I'm a little surprised you're not a little more concerned that your new bride is on her back getting her brains fucked out."

"I hope they don't give her AIDs and I catch it," said Tony looking a little concerned.

Tony was an excellent example of how the average Revere, Massachusetts Italian stallion views females. They were okay for fucking and cooking but not much good for anything else. Basically, something you needed but didn't have to value very highly. Because since you were a handsome Italian male it was easy to find another female to meet your needs. I reached down and grabbed Tony's butt cheeks and pulled him deep into my asshole and squeezed my rectum around his cock. I found his arrogant self-important attitude endearing and wanted to give him a good fuck.

"Good, that's good, you must take it up the ass all the time," said Tony.

"I like it up the ass. Does Cathy?"

"No, but who cares what she likes. These guys certainly don't."

"How long you been married?"

"Five days today. We had to get married. I knocked her up. Her family knows my family. Her brother is connected so you know how it is."

I was pleased to learn that the time-honored tradition of a shotgun wedding was not dead.

"So you're going to be a daddy," I said as I started sucking on his nipples. I had a firm grip on his buttocks and was humping away enjoying the sensation of his cock sliding in my bowel.

"So the bitch says. I found out there's a guy at Bunker Hill she was fucking behind my back. I'm going to have a DNA test after it's born. If it's not mine, I'll kick her whoring ass out, the little bastard too."

"How did you find out about the other guy?"

"Stupid cunt told me on our wedding night. Said she didn't want there to be any secrets between us. Probably start fucking him again as soon as she gets back home."

Cathy screamed again then broke out into loud sobs.

"Cathy, give it a rest," yelled Tony to his bride. I looked over to see that she was on her knees and elbows and a giant of a black man was standing over her fucking straight down into her asshole. Cathy's fists were clinched and tears were streaming down her face. I don't think she was enjoying her gang rape at least the anal part.

"So what's next for you two lovebirds?"

"Take her back to the hotel and make her douche her ass and pussy. I'm not going to fuck her anymore until I'm sure she doesn't have a disease. She can suck my dick until I know she ain't diseased," said Tony.

"I meant when you get back to Boston."

"Finish school get my associates, then I'm going to Northeastern and get my law enforcement degree and join the police."

"Sounds like a good career move," I said thinking that Tony certainly has the right attitude and personality for a Revere cop.

"I'm going to blow. Where you want it?" asked Tony after a few more minutes of serious ass fucking.

"Mouth, I've taken it everywhere else."

"You Saugus High girls are all cum swallowers. Bet you used to drive over to the beach on Saturday night, get down on your knees and suck dick till dawn."

"I never stopped just because it was dawn. Skull fuck me, Tony. Show me how you a Revere High grad treats a Saugus slut."

Spurred by my words, he pulled out of my ass and in one swift graceful motion taught by all Italian fathers to their sons as soon as they reach puberty, straddled my face grabbed a handful of my hair and rammed his pecker down my throat. He pounded me so hard I thought he was going to break my nose. Mercifully, he finished and I was allowed to breathe. He wiped his slimy cock on my hair.

"Congratulations and best of luck," I said to Tony as he got up off me.

"Cunt," he sneered at me as he got up. If we'd been alone, I had no doubt he would have slapped me around and pissed in my face for being a smart mouth.

The crowd had thinned out. After two more rapes there was no one left waiting. Marilyn was the only one of the four of us that still had a cock in her. Someone had left a half full bottle of beer in the sand near my head. Even though it was still warm I drank it.

Cathy was still whimpering when the last stud rolled off her. Some women can't get into anal. They're just not engineered right. The fact that they tense up the minute they feel a dick knocking on their backdoor compounds their problem. Cathy's asshole was bleeding slightly.

"Get up you fucking slut," said Tony pulling the sobbing girl to her feet.

"I hurt inside. I can't walk," said Cathy slumping back down.

"Well I'm not going to carry you," said Tony leaving her alone as he walked back into Waco's.

"Shit man that was wild," said a male that I took to be with the other female that found herself on the mats behind Waco's.

"Wild is right. I thought Sammy was bull shiting us when he said there was a gang bang behind Waco's most afternoons," said the girl using a dirty rag to wipe the cum out of her pussy.

"How many did you do, Kel?" asked the man.

"Shit, I lost count," said Kel. "At least fifteen, maybe twenty."

"That's the most so far,' said the guy. Maybe they were training to get in the hardcore version of Ripley's Believe It Or Not.

I recalled that Kel's partner had also screwed me. It was good to know that the afternoon gang rape was a regular feature at Waco's in case I got horny and felt like pulling another train. Kel finished wiping her pussy and ass then slipped her bathing suit back on. She and her guy joined hands and walked away like it was all in a day's work.

I turned to see how Marilyn was doing. She was on all fours. Deep earthy groans were coming out of her throat. The guy pounding her pussy seemed to be of normal statue so I was wondering why she was sounding like a cow being fucked by a Jersey bull.

"How are you doing, Marilyn? I asked sitting down beside her.

"Lester is the eight wonder of the world," groaned Marilyn. "Show Rozz your dick, Lester."

Lester pulled out so I could see his tool. I thought it never was going to get all the way out of Marilyn's tightly stretched cunt. When it fully emerged, I don't know if it was the eight wonder of the world but it was an exceptionally large cock. Later when Lester stood up. I'd guess he was 5'6" at most but his endowment was equal to Harvard's comparatively speaking. Few men on the planet could call Lester brother. If he ever made it to the San Fernando Valley he had a career in porn.

"I want to get off with Lester inside me," said Marilyn looking hopefully toward me.

"Let me help," I said diving under her. She moved to straddle me and I found myself under her. She stuck a finger up my ass and pushed her tongue in my cum filled snatch.

I licked her clit as Lester pounded away. The impact of his scrotum on the top of my head was actually painful. I felt like someone was hitting me in the top of my head with a sirloin steak.

Marilyn, Lester and I climaxed together. He pulled out and shot part of his load on my face. I have no idea why. I didn't ask him too. But then again technically it was a rape so he could do what he wanted.

After Lester finished I glanced at my watch and saw that we had been fucking for over three hours. We found our bikini bottoms and started to return to the bar when I noticed that Cathy was still lying there on her mat sobbing. The nurse in me came out and I decided to help.

Marilyn and I got the bottom of her bathing suit back on. We practically had to carry her back into Waco's. Surprisingly our bathing suit tops were folded neatly on a barstool. The crowd watched as we put our tops back on then helped Cathy to get hers on. My purse was lying there untouched so I paid the bar tab. The locals rape but don't steal was how Gordon characterized them.

I managed to get Cathy to name her hotel. I asked if any of the crowd had a car to drive her back and someone volunteered. I handed him a $20. The last I saw of Cathy she was being put in the backseat of a very old Chevrolet. At the last minute, three men beside the driver jumped in the car with her.

I suspected Cathy's rape experience was not finished as I watched the Chevrolet drive off in the wrong direction. Gordon told me that they wouldn't harm her just keep her for a couple of days until she had been fucked by most of the male population of Nevis then they would drop her off at her hotel.

Later, Marilyn and I were back at my villa. We were in the Jacuzzi working each other's clit with our toes and drinking a bottle of very good French champagne. Gordon had sent it over. He'd heard about our experience at Waco's. He kept very close tabs on everything that happened at the resort and on the entire island. Since the housekeeping staff reported to him, he had several hundred local spies.

"Heard you and Mrs. Masterson had the Waco experience?" asked Gordon. The phone had rung as soon as we got back.

"We were just sampling the local semen supply," I replied as I stripped off my bathing suit.

"No harm done then?" asked Gordon.

"None, Marilyn had her love tunnel widened by someone named Lester. A narrow winding road is now a super highway."

"Lester is a local legend. A certain wealthy New York matron flies in to see him every other month."

"I understand why. She enjoys his conversation. Marilyn and I are about to hop into the Jacuzzi to restore our weary parts," I said.

"Two bottles of champagne are on their way to help you overcome the travails of your afternoon. Complements of the house," said Gordon before ringing off.

I'd called over to the Masterson villa and told Jason that his wife was going to spend the night with me. She was helping me work through some of my grief issues. I got the impression that Jason didn't believe me. Figuring out Marilyn was as easy as a two-piece puzzle. I didn't doubt for a moment he knew I was planning to fuck his wife.

The stereo was playing Sinatra. Marilyn and I were using our toes to stimulate each other. My big toe was in her vagina. My little toe was tweaking her clit. I heard someone clear his throat and looked over to see the young man who worked the beach standing there with another boy about his age. I'd completely forgotten I'd hired him for the evening.

"What have we here?" asked Marilyn looking interested.

"John, who's your friend?" I asked.

"This is my brother James," said John looking worried. I'd only hired John but he'd brought along his brother hoping that I would decide that two male prostitutes were better than one. Since I had company, the situation was fortuitous.

"In the mood for more sex?" I asked Marilyn.

"I'm always in the mood. When I'm not it will be time to bury me."

"John, James, would you mind showing us your cocks?" I asked.

Both boys hesitated a moment before lowering their trousers. The results were impressive. Later, I learned that John was eighteen and James his younger brother seventeen.

"My God, are all the men on Nevis like Lester?" blurted out Marilyn.

"Lester's our uncle," said John brightening. Both boys had exceptionally large cocks. The shaft was cold black with a reddish mushroom head that had a sizeable over lip. There are women that sing the praises of the mushroom head that's wider than the shaft. They claim it creates an additional wave of pleasure, as the cock is withdrawn from the vagina. They refer to it as the backing out zing. Black men tend to the gifted with that type of configuration where Nordic men are shaped like a missile. One little eccentricity I have when it comes to the male member is the size of the piss hole. I prefer one that is large enough to work with the tip of my tongue. Those narrow slits are no fun.

"Come on in," I said waiving them to join us.

We began sucking their cocks while they sat on the edge of the tub. Before the night was over, we went through the full repertoire of sexual positions and partners. Marilyn and I had done each other while John and James watched. We'd experienced the ecstasy of double penetration. My best moment was having a cock in my ass, another in my vagina and my face buried in Marilyn's juicy pussy.

I handed each $150 early the next morning when they left. I'd read where you were supposed to tip a prostitute. I was standing at the door naked kissing each boy goodbye when I caught Jason looking through his window at me. I didn't wave but I thought about it.

Chapter 19 – Jake

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

"You're very good. Your sister Judith did a great job of teaching you to eat pussy," I said looking down at the top of Jake Masterson's curly head. He had thick black hair like a young lion. I was being honest about his oral skills. He was noisy but highly effective making murmuring sounds as he licked me. Anything he lacked in experience he made up for in enthusiasm. I was spread out on my bed with my thighs rotated outward pushing my cunt toward his busy mouth.

I was the older she slut preying on a not so innocent young boy with a god like physique. We'd just gotten started and I was in the mood to play mind games with my victim. I was having fun at his expense. Isn't that the way it is with the Alpha Whores of this world?

"How did you know that? She didn't tell you did she?" said a surprised Jake looking up.

"Relax, just keep doing what you're doing. Eat Mommy's pussy like a good boy. Show Mommy what your baby sister taught you," I said placing my hand on the back of his head and pushing it back down into my needy snatch. Young men are so gullible. It makes my pussy wet to realize how easy they are to control.

I hadn't known that Judith had taught her twin brother to muff dive. It was an educated guess but one with a good probability of being correct. I didn't have an older brother just a younger sister but in my acquaintance of girls with brother their age or older, a surprising number lost their virginity to their male sibling. A sister is accessible to her brother and his familiarity with her lends itself to contempt for her desires to remain a virgin. Boys aren't bothered much by considerations of incest. Their hormones drive them to ignore such ethical issues as they're driven to seek a warm wet hole to house their cocks.

One of my college roommates had quite a thing going with her slightly younger brother. She'd even asked me to sleep with him when she was coming for a visit and she had gotten her period. I happily obliged her. She enviously sat ridding the cotton pony as I straddled her beloved brother and rode the real thing. Later, she gave him a blowjob just to show she cared.

Jake's physical maturity exceeded his emotional maturity. At six foot and fifteen years of age, he could pass for much older until he opened his mouth. I'd found him right after lunch sitting in one of the many small gardens on the resort's grounds playing some form of electronic game. The plastic box looked ridiculously small in his large hands. I'd just come from the beach. I decided on the direct approach. I saw no point in being subtle.

"Have you ever fucked an older woman?" I asked plopping down beside him placing my naked thigh against his.

"What?" answered a startled Jake his young mind struggling between the prospect of having misheard me and the possibility that I was offering him sex something a fifteen-year-old boy is always in dire need of.

"Have you ever fucked an older woman?" I repeated the question.

"No," said Jake taking a surprising number of seconds to search his memory banks.

"Would you like to fuck me?" I spoke with all the innocence I could muster. I tried to sound as if I was asking if he thought the Yankees would win the series. It was amusing to watch him analyze my question. He looked around to see if there were others hiding in the shrubs ready to spring some awful joke on him.

"Yes," he finally managed to say.

"I'll expect you to perform cunnilingus on me," I said authoritatively.

"Huh?"

"Cunnilingus as in putting your head between my legs and eating my pussy," I said expanding his vocabulary.

"Yeah, I've done that," said Jake.

As it turned out Jake had been tongue sweeping Judith's box since he was thirteen.

"Would you like to kiss me first?" I was being absurdly cruel to the young man. The bitch in me was rampant that afternoon.

"Yes," said Jake obviously a man of very few words.

I put my arms around him and drew him to me for a prolonged tongue kiss. I put my hand on his crotch and gave his boyhood a few strokes. It felt hard as a diamond.

"Go ahead, feel my tits," I whispered in his ear.

His hand slipped inside my top. Fingers rolled my nipple back and forth applying just the right amount of pressure. Physically gifted but mentally challenged was my preliminary and most likely wrong conclusion. Jake wasn't really dumb just awkward.

"Let's go to my villa," I said standing up. He followed me like a puppy dog on the trail of a bitch in season.

As soon as we got indoors I dropped to my knees and pulled down his shorts. Whoever had performed his circumcision had been an artist with the scalpel. He had a beautiful cock. It was smooth lacking the roughness of most of the penises I'd put in my mouth lately. The head was a rosy pink a nice contrast with the lighter shaft. And the under lip of the mushroom gave my lips a purchase that I used as leverage. I figured his first climax would be a quick one and I was not wrong. A few seconds of hand balling his sack coupled with some vigorous tongue action on the cock head and Rozz had her reward. I looked up and opened my mouth to show him that I had captured his semen on my tongue before I almost theatrically gulped down his load.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"It was delicious. I loved it. Let's get in bed," I said taking him by the hand and leading him toward the bedroom. I shed my bathing suit in record time and hopped up on the bed and spread my legs wide like a high school cheerleader who'd agreed to pull the entire team's train if victory was achieved.

It was obvious that someone had trained Jake and when I suggested Judith his response confirmed the correctness of my guess. I lay there enjoying the moment for a while before I resumed our conversation.

"Do you fuck Judith often?"

"Not anymore," responded Jake working a finger into my vagina. I rewarded his efforts with a heart felt moan.

"You two have a falling out?"

"Kind of."

"Tell me about it. Oh I like what you're doing with my ass," I said. Jake was performing anilingus. I was pleasantly surprised. I've known grown men who didn't eat butt. Jake was working my brown hole like he was trying to make certain there was nothing but turds contained therein. I recalled that I had visited the Ladies Room after lunch and had a loud and messy bowel movement. Jake was cleaning up anything the toilet paper missed. I lifted my legs and grabbed my big toes to tilt my asshole skyward improving Jake's access.

"She got into some weird shit," said Jake.

"Explain."

"Judith wants guys to spank her. She asked me to use my belt on her bottom. She even went out on the WEB and bought this whip. She practically begged me to tie her up and whip her."

"And you didn't care for that," I remarked.

"I'm a lover not some crazy women beater," said Jake as he wiggled his tongue in my rectum. Once he had me opened up, I felt his finger in my ass as he returned his mouth to my clit. Obviously he understood the art of the Dirty Sanchez. Fingers on Jake's other hand had located my G-spot. Frankly, he was playing my body like he was first violin in the Boston Pops and I was his Stradivarius.

"Has Judith found anyone to meet her needs?"

"I don't think so. There was this older guy who she met online. She told me he trained slaves but when he found out she was fifteen, he said no way. He didn't want to go to jail."

"So have you fucked your step mom? She's very hot."

"No, that wouldn't be right," said Jake displaying a disappointing understanding of right versus wrong.

I was also surprised that horny Marilyn had not taken advantage of the well-endowed Jake.

"How about Karen? She strikes me as the horny type."

"She was engaged until right before we left. She caught Roland in bed with her best friend. She's pretty broken up about it."

"So its Maria that you're bonking," I said.

"Guys aren't supposed to talk about things like that," said Jake.

"Latinas are hot. They sizzle when you get them in bed," I spoke based on my experience at the military hospital where there was a surfeit of Latina nurses. They would climb on a dying soldier who'd just had the last rites to give him the more useful sacrament of the final Latina fuck. Some guys decided to hang around after they had experienced the peculiar suction sensation that the average Latina can induce with their pussy. The staff called it resuscitation by cunt. I was looking forward to sex with Maria.

I closed my eyes and relaxed allowing Jake to eat my pussy without having to answer further questions. He took me to the cliff's edge and I stepped off for a long free fall. One advantage we women have over men is that we can prolong our orgasm. It was like I was parasailing. I swooped and soared on the thermals for what seemed like forever. I chanted curse words and writhed back and forth enjoying an unusually long and pleasurable Big O.

"That was intense," was Jake's comment when I was done.

"I need a break. Want a beer?" I said climbing off the bed.

"Sure," said Jake. What fifteen year old wouldn't want a beer after he had just eaten pussy? Beer and pussy go together at that age.

We cuddled a bit then I went back to work on his cock. Once he was hard I got on top and rode him until he released a load in my vagina.

"Want to eat a creampie?" I asked still mounted on his dick. It was softening and slowly retracting from my pussy.

"Huh?" said the vocabulary challenged stud.

"Creampie, a vagina loaded with semen," speaking like a schoolmarm.

"Yeah," said Jake reaching out to move me into position on top of him. I put my pussy over his face and covered his mouth and nostrils. Having a guy breath into your cunt is an odd sensation. Some guys get their rocks off being pussy smothered. He eased me off his face when his air ran out and stuck his tongue in my snatch as far as it would reach.

I sucked his slimy limp cock and he tongued his semen out of my hole for a while. He got hard again.

I turned around facing him reaching behind me to stroke his shaft. I'd placed my pussy over his mouth aiming my urethra with the skill of a consummate piss queen.

"Want a little squirt?" I asked. Jake communicated his assent by opening his mouth wide. I put my piss hole right over his maw and released a short burst.

"That is so fucking hot," said Jake after he swallowed.

"More?" I asked not wanting to leave his need to ingest my urine unsatisfied.

"Yeah," said Jake once again showing me his molars.

I released a longer burst, waited for him to swallow and repeated the drill.

Jake Masterson was kind of an oddity I concluded. Not too many clean-cut good family fifteen-year-old boys would consider Water Sports.

"Hold the last one in your mouth so we can share," I said sensing my bladder gage was approaching empty. I delivered my final shot then leaned down and kissed his pissed covered lips. He spit my own piss back in my mouth. I swallowed half and spit the remainder back. He swallowed most of that then spit back what's left. I gulped that down and we engaged in some torrid tongue action licking the insides of each other's mouth. I made a mental note to call housekeeping later and have them change the bed.

"Climb on top and fuck the shit out of me," I ordered after we had exhausted the piss supply. I was in the mood to pick up the pace. Jake rolled us over as a unit and mounted me.

"I want it hard and fast. Tell me I'm a piss drinking slut whore," I yelled.

"You're a piss drinking slut whore," intoned Jake.

"Suck my tits hard. Make them hurt," I said. Jake was a big strong boy. He captured my left nipple in his mouth and managed to suck it so painfully I wanted to scream. God that was hot.

He slammed into me and I raised my hips to hump back. We got into it. The best sex is when you let go of the civilization and fuck like an animal that's in desperate need. I once saw a nature show on television in which this species of squid gather off the California coast one night a year to breed. The squid gather from hundreds of miles to this one spot. The scientists have no idea how they know the time and place since every year it's a new generation. The undersea camera showed millions of squid humping insanely shooting sperm everywhere. The males die almost immediately. The females live long enough to bury a load of fertilized eggs then they're off to squid heaven. I thought of those squid as Jake and I fucked.

Cursing, sweating, spiting in each other's mouth, we finally we blew our wads and collapsed together. The bed was wet with perspiration.

"Time for another beer," I said padding off to the kitchen.

"Man that was something," said Jake after he got his breath back.

"You're a terrific lover, Jake," I said making a contribution to his self-esteem. I owed him that.

We cuddled for a while. It was nice lying there with his muscular arm around me my bottom firmly pressed against his dick.

"Are you ready for the finale?" I asked.

"What do you have in mind?" said Jake.

"I need my shit packed, my turds tamped down, my butt reamed. You up for that?"

He nodded so I grabbed a tube of lubricant out of the bed table drawer and hand it to him. I got into the head down knees and elbows position adjusting my stance so my buttocks separated and Jake had a clear unimpeded path to my brown hole.

"I never met anybody like you," said Jake working some lube into my anus.

"How's that?"

"The way you talk. It's dirty."

"It's the Boston girl in me. Girls in Boston love to talk dirty," I said.

"Must be the schools up North," said Jake.

"Jake, can I ask you to do me a favor?"

"Sure, what?"

"As you know, I'm a recent widow. My dead husband was an incredible warrior and he loved to fuck my ass. I loved for him to do it. Out of respect for his memory and in honor of the country he fought and died for would you butt fuck his widow the way he used to."

"I'll try. What did he do?" said Jake solemnly.

"He stood over me and fucked down in my ass like he was drilling for oil. He took a firm grip on my cheeks pulling them apart till I wanted to scream. Periodically he delivered a powerful slap on my ass the kind of slap that turned my butt red and showed his palm print. He was brutal and rough treating me the way all great warriors have treated not only their own women but also the captured females of the enemy. I know you mentioned that you weren't a woman beater and that's very admirable especially in someone your age. Young men are often so callow. But if you could put aside your own feelings and in honor of Captain Trace Scarborough Donaldson of the 5144 ^th Special Operations Brigade deliver an uncompromising vicious and cruel ass fucking to his widow, I would feel honored."

"I'll do my best," said Jake looking as if I had just appointed him to lay the wreath at the tomb of the Unknown Soldier on Memorial Day.

"One more thing."

"Yes."

"At the finish when you're ready to blow your load, take your shit stained cock out of my ass and ram it down my throat and blow your load. Then wipe your cock off in my hair The Captain always finished that way," I said.

"In memory of Captain Trace Donaldson," said Jake quietly as he positioned his dick against my anus and started to push.

I can sum it up by saying Jake came through. He reamed my ass out taking long deep strokes that straightened the curves out of my lower bowel. His open palmed bitch slaps raised whelps in the same shape as his hand. I had to bit down on my fist to keep from screaming my lungs out. And when it came time for ejaculation he spun me around like a rag doll and rammed a shit stained cock in my mouth and a couple of inches down my throat. I swallowed a mix of my shit and Jake's sperm. He dutifully used my tresses to wipe the shit off his dick.

If you do anal and you don't douche out your ass first, it's messy. When I looked in the bathroom mirror after I staggered in to brush my teeth, I looked like someone who'd been eating brown gravy with a crooked spoon.

I hopped in the shower inviting Jake to join me. I gave him a blowjob to finish another perfect day in paradise.

Chapter 20 – Judith

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

"Judith my dear child, in S&M it's always best to start with the basics and there's nothing more basic than a good English caning. Right, Vivian?" said Gordon. Vivian was the resort's Food & Beverage Manager and a Class 1 sadist. She was speaking to Gordon, the resort's assistant manager who also held a Class 1 license.

Gordon was standing behind the tripod-mounted camera while Vivian caned Judith.

I could hear the zoom feature of Gordon's 8.1 mega pixel camera as he worked to get the desired perspective on Judith's quivering red-stripped bottom. Judith would have to find an excuse why she wouldn't be wearing her bikini for the next few days.

"A few snaps to help me remember wonderful nights like this,' was how Gordon graciously explained the fact that he was capturing images of Judith and I in positions of extreme bondage and punishment. Given that there were hundreds of JPG and MPEG files of myself fucking doctors, nurses, and patients at the army hospital on Kuwait already posted on the Internet, what did a few more matter?

Fifteen-year old Judith had begged me to arrange an S&M session for her. Her screams and pitiful pleas for them to stop would seem to indicate she wasn't having a good time but the wetness of her fifteen-year-old pussy proved otherwise. There was also the issue of a safe word that Judith could speak at any time and bring the pain to a stop. Since Judith was a neophyte, she had a safe word. They hadn't given me one because I'd told Gordon that I didn't have any limits.

"You are so wet, you little slut,' said Vivian sticking her hand in Judith's gooey cunt covering her fingers in teenage twat oil. "Doesn't she taste delicious, Rozz" said Vivian as she put several slime covered fingers in my mouth for me to suck.

"Gordon is correct of course. The cane is the most basic of a sadist's tools and in spite of all the advances in technology still highly effective," said Vivian. "Now Judith here come another one so tense up your body so it hurts worse."

I could see Judith clinching her buttocks in anticipation. The flexible bamboo cane came down on Judith's backside with considerable force. It made a delightful swishing sound as it cut the air. For Judith, the noise served as a warning of impending agony.

The bit gag fastened in her mouth muffled Judith's repeated screams. We were in a soundproof room so the gags were more to increase the submissive's feelings of helplessness than required to keep the neighbors from running in to see who was being murdered. Ball gags muffle sounds better but a bit gag is far crueler. Gordon had tightened Judith's to where it pulled the sides of her mouth back to expose her third year molars. Since I was gagged in a similar fashion I was aware of how painful it is to have the corners of your mouth stretched that far.

A small plastic bucket hung from a hook located dead center in the middle of the bit. It caught the drool that flowed from the effect of the bit gag. Judith and I were busily filling our bucket with saliva and snot. No doubt at some point, the contents would be used to increase our humiliation.

Our bit gags were part of a facial harness that squeezed our entire head. Two hooks in our nostrils pulled them back toward my forehead. My hair was pulled painfully back in a clamp as the back of the harness. I considered it the most ingenuous and painful facial harness I had yet encountered.

I was in a reverse suspension hanging belly downward about six feet of the floor I had an excellent view of Judith. Reverse suspension grows incredibly painful as the minutes pass. Your rotator cup and hip sockets become sources of intense throbbing pain. Add the fact that there were punishment dildos in my vagina and anus and my boobs were mashed flat in a tit press to which weights were attached and you have some idea of the level of sadism involved. Ever so often, Gordon would reach up and give the dildos a half turn sending me in a paroxysm of agony. The stiff plastic spikes cut into the lining of my vagina and rectum.

"Here, Rozz, I wouldn't want you to get bored," said Gordon adding another one-pound weight to the stack hanging from the tit press. For good measure he rotated my dildoes. My body writhed in its agony as the three sources of pain competed for supremacy inside my brain. My own cunt was dripping from the experience. I'd certainly made the right decision when I agreed to participate along with Judith. I hadn't experienced true pain since Mary Ellen put me through my paces at Trace's wake. Screwing, even gang bangs and rapes while great fun do not touch my core in the same way that a good S&M session with an experienced sadist can. This is truly excellent I told myself.

I saw much of my younger self in Judith. Fucking other boys and girls was rewarding and highly entertaining but we needed more. It took a practiced sadist with a polished English cane to give it to us.

When Gordon and Vivian had extracted all possible pain from Judith's backside, she and I would swap places and she'd get her turn in suspension. My rear end would be testing the endurance and strength of Vivian's whip arm.

We were in one of the permanent residences on the resort grounds. The owner was a media baron, Sir Kenneth Grimes of Fleet Street. He owned several of the more popular London tabloids that no one took seriously for news but the educated public avidly viewed the pictures of topless starlets. He allowed Gordon to use his well-designed and well-equipped S&M play space when Sir Kenneth was not at home. In return when Sir Kenneth was in residence Gordon would locate guests that the peer could entertain himself. Sir Kenneth according to Gordon had a strong preference for newlyweds.

"What kind of newlywed would bring his bride here?" I'd asked Gordon when he showed me where Judith and I would suffer.

"The kind that are young and adventurous. It's rather easy to determine whether they're interested," said Gordon.

"How do you go about it?"

"First of all I look for couples who go parasailing or jet ski. You can always spot the thrill seekers. If after three days they're bored silly with lying on the beach reading the latest best seller, I chat them up. I've learned to be a good judge of who will be willing to help Sir Kenneth tie their bride over his whipping bench and have at her with a limber bamboo cane," said Gordon. "I've had to restrain several inexperienced husbands from damaging their new wives permanently.

"This is within a few short days after they promise to love, honor, and protect," I said.

"Let's face it. Today's bride and groom are no strangers to sex. The days of the virgin bride passed years ago. Many arrive already bored with their sex lives. Most have already experimented with some from of S&M," said Gordon.

"Do you ever misjudge?" I asked testing the feel of a beautiful cane I removed from the rack. The thought of that landing on my bare bottom sent chills down my spine and lubricant down my vagina.

"One or twice," said Gordon.

"And?"

"No harm done. I apologize and we go our separate ways," said Gordon.

"What generally happens?" I asked.

"They're invited here for dinner with the understanding there will be a session in the S&M dungeon after dessert. Sir Kenneth's wife Gretchen usually leads the way. She suggests the couple strip her and place her in one of the restraints. The husband and wife are invited to test their whip arms on Gretchen. Then depending on who is the submissive of the pair, usually the wife but not always takes Gretchen's place. Sometimes they are both submissive."

"And if they are both dominant," I asked.

"Poor Gretchen suffers doubly," said Gordon. "But that happens infrequently."

"And who fucks who when all is said and done?"

"Sir Kenneth mounts the bride and Gretchen the groom if no one is bi-sexual. Sir Kenneth is a man of many parts equally at home with a hard cock or a soft warm vagina," said Gordon.

The home was enormous and decorated with numerous examples of museum quality works of art. The play space was also first class. The number and variety of whips was unmatched in my experience.

Seducing Judith turned out to be no great challenge. I borrowed some illustrated S&M books from Gordon's library. One of them was even titled, "Punish The Hellcat Daughter." I left the books in the guest restroom the day I invited Judith to lunch ostensibly to discuss nursing as a career. The resort had delivered salads and several bottles of wine. The staff had set lunch up by the small pool at the back of my villa.

"I hate tan lines," I said stripping off my bathing suit as soon as we arrived from the beach.

Judith took a look at my naked body and decided to follow. She was really quite lovely.

"You're so pretty," I exclaimed. I bet your father has to hire security to keep the boys from climbing in your windows at night."

"I'm not that interested in boys my age. All they want is for you to suck their cocks and then lie back so they can climb on you and get off," said Judith with an air of disgust.

"Judith that sounds very candid and forthright for someone your age. I happen to agree with you. A girl must find people who understand her true needs. Too many men are concerned only with their own pleasure." I was a little worried I was laying it on a bit thick.

"I shouldn't ask this but did you and your husband get along well?" said Judith.

"You mean sexually?" I said.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have asked," said Judith looking embarrassed.

"Don't be embarrassed. I don't mind telling you about my extraordinary marriage. Trace was no ordinary man. He was born into a family of soldier patriots. Trace was brought up to believe that he was a man apart and the rules that governed the lives of everyday men and their wives did not apply. As a result of what he experienced on the field of combat he had certain needs that not every woman could or more accurately would satisfy. Fortunately, we were well matched and his needs complemented mine," I said opening a bottle of chardonnay and handing her a full glass.

"What kind of needs?" asked Judith taking a sip of her wine.

"If I tell, you won't think ill of me?"

"Of course not, Rozz." I'd insisted she not call me Ms. Donaldson.

"There's no polite way to say this so I will just blurt it out. We practiced S&M."

"Sado Masochism."

"Yes, I was his slave and he punished me. I worshipped him as my master. Most of the time he was very kind and gentle with me but when I was willful, he punished me most severely."

"How did he punish you?" Judith's eyes had taken on a sparkle. She is one of us I told myself.

"Many different ways but mainly he preferred to whip me. I adored it when he tied me down and applied the lash until I was a weeping pleading mess. I shouldn't be telling you this. You'll think I'm some horrible depraved sick person."

"No, no I won't. I have similar feelings. I even took my father's fraternity paddle and used it on myself. Daddy was pledge master at his fraternity at UT. I found the paddle in the attic and gave myself ten hard swats."

"How did it make you feel?"

"Great at first but I wanted someone to tie me up and paddle me with it. I couldn't get anyone to do it. I even asked Jake. He told me I needed counseling."

"Ordinary people do not understand us. We are special," I said.

"So your husband punished you. That sounds so romantic," said Judith.

"It was terribly romantic. We met at a club for sadists and masochists in New York. I loved him from the first time he applied a tawse to my naked bottom. I'd been tied to a cross for most of the evening. Several of the dominants had whipped me but it was nothing special. Then I felt a presence behind me. I heard the swish of a whip and felt the agony of true love. When I looked back there my darling Trace was. We sensed an immediate overwhelming attraction. He hit me again and again. Each time the tawse landed I screamed, "harder" until I collapsed. He untied me and took me to his hotel room where we made love for a full day never stopping to eat."

"That's the most romantic story I've ever heard," said Judith.

After Judith and I ate, she excused herself and went to the restroom. She didn't come out for a long time. When she did, she was carrying one of the books I borrowed.

"Rozz, you know people that practice the type of things in this book, don't you?" said Judith.

"Yes, there are even some in Nevis," I said.

"Would it be asking to much for you to arrange an S&M session for me?"

"That would depend," I replied.

"On what, I'll do anything," said Judith.

"You would have to swear to be absolutely discrete, not a word to anyone including your parents and Jake and Karen. You would be expected not only to submit to pain but also to have sex with the dominants. Are you bi-sexual?"

"I won't say a word to anyone. I've had sex with both. My girlfriends and I like to get high one night and eat each other out."

"I see what I can arrange," I said.

Gordon and Vivian were delighted with the idea of a beautiful young and very fresh submissive. I hadn't known about Sir Kenneth's place until I talked to Gordon about the possibility of Vivian and he training Judith.

So here Judith and I were being subjected to incredible cruelty and loving it.

A bright red line appeared across Judith's youthful buttocks each time the bamboo landed. Did you know that bamboo is stronger per weight than steel? I watched totally fascinated as Vivian felt the slightly raised skin where the cane had landed.

"Your fanny is getting warm," announced Vivian before landing another blow.

Judith sounded a muffled cry of despair but no safe word. I tried to imagine the pain associated with the cane and experienced an onrush of the jealousy a masochist feels when they watch another masochist being whipped. How greedy I am for the release afforded by the whip. I felt my pussy tighten around the dildo spikes in hopes of increasing my suffering. My turn was coming as soon as they finished with Judith.

"I think the young lady needs another one," Gordon said casually.

Vivian delivered one more savage blow. Every sinew in Judith's body was visible as she strained against the leather straps holding her on to the whipping bench. There is considerable pleasure in watching the flexing of the sinews, the contortion of the muscles and the overall paroxysm caused by terrible pain.

Vivian certainly looked the part of a dominatrix. She was tall, lean, with cold black hair pulled straight back. A tight leather corset narrowed her waist and pushed her boobs up and outward exposing her nipples. A narrow strip of leather covered her vagina. The five-inch heels of her thigh high leather boots elevated her to over six feet. All in all, Vivian was one scary bitch.

My little Judith had been impressed out of her mind as any fifteen year old submissive should be when meeting her first real mistress. Vivian had given the girl the full treatment forbidding her to speak unless spoken to, ordering her to strip, then engage in a session of boot licking. To complete Judith's initial humiliation, Vivian unsnapped her crotch cover and cunt smothered a prone Judith. Vivian showed considerable control of her bodily functions when she sat her butt over Judith's face instructed the girl to open her mouth and then released a very loud, long and odorous fart into the girl's open mouth. I was impressed.

Gordon and I sat on the couch watching the preliminaries. He had his cock out and I was stroking it occasionally leaning over to suck it.

Groveling over, it was my turn to go into the reverse suspension. Since part of the purpose of the session was educational, Judith was allowed to watch and even help a little as I was lifted off the ground. Judith tightened the wing nuts on the tit press until my boobs were flattened and turning a dark blue.

After I was suspended, Judith was ordered to assume the position over Gordon's whipping bench. It was a classic English whipping bench somewhat resembling the fixture you kneel at in a Catholic chapel to light a candle for the safe return of sailors or some such nonsense. A low padded rung for kneeling and a higher adjustable padded rung for the midsection. First quality English leather belting held the ankles, knees, head and wrists immobile. Your butt and back were pointed skyward ready to entertain the whip

"I'm sorry, Judith, you'll have to speak louder," said Vivian once again raising her arm and delivering a blow that sent our little slave/slut/whore into a paroxysm of agony. A stream of water cascaded down her thighs to be absorbed in one of the Egyptian cotton towels provided by the resort.

"I think our young miss has pissed herself," I said.

"Too bad, we'll have to punish her for soiling the towel. Here Vivian, demonstrate the flogger to Judith," said Gordon swapping the bamboo cane for a nine strand leather flogger.

"Judith, pretend you are a sailor on HMS Bounty and Captain Bligh had just sentenced you to ten lashes with the cat or to speak completely cat-O-nine-tails. Judith, I will count each blow since you seems to have lost your tongue."

Vivian methodically delivered ten blows each of which caused Judith untold pain. Judith's back and buttocks were now criss crossed with bright red strips. There were little drops of blood where the whip had broken the skin. Gordon like many of the English sadists I had known specialized in the lash. If you want your backside whipped to the point that you are out of your mind, find yourself an English gentleman.

Vivian reached between Judith legs and felt her sex. Her thighs were coated with a mixture of glandular secretions and her piss. She worked her pussy with her fingers causing Judith to moan. When Vivian sensed she was about to climax, she ceased her efforts.

"You'll come when I say so, bitch," screamed Vivian before delivering five rapid blows with the flogger.

At that point, they decided Judith had been whipped enough and we exchanged places. It was a delicious session of corporal punishment that left my backside raw and burning. I too would have to find an excuse not to wear my bathing costume.

Based on my experience they whipped me much longer and harder than Judith. Next they released us both and directed that we perform oral sex on one another while they watched. At some point, Vivian donned a ferocious looking strap on cock and fucked Judith to the edge of madness. When she used it on me, I thought she would rupture something inside me.

The S&M part complete, we all got in bed for several hours of vanilla sex. We did everything to Gordon that three women could possibly do to a man. He was rimmed, sucked, and fucked to the point of exhaustion. Judith and I got each other off.

In the wee hours of the morning the two of us hobbled back to my villa. I'd asked Jason if Judith could spend the night with me to keep me company so I would not get too depressed.

He readily agreed but there was something about the way he said it that made me think he was on to me.

Chapter 21 – Maria

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

"How is the book?" I asked. I happened upon Maria sitting alone on a bench in a small garden at the far end of the resort. I'd gone for a walk to plot my next move in my seduction of the Masterson's when the sexy Latina appeared before me like a gift from the devil.

It was almost noon Saturday. I'd been at the resort for a week and had not left the premises. I'd been considering asking Karen to go into the local town for a diversion but now I saw another possibility.

"It's not that good. I borrowed it from Marilyn, Mrs. Masterson. I read to improve my English," said Maria.

"Mind if I join you?"

"No, please sit down, Mrs. Donaldson."

"Rozz,"

"All right, Rozz, when it's just us."

"Where's Nat?" I asked thinking how nice it would be to put my hand up the short jeans skirt she was wearing and place my hand on her sex and make it moist. My experience of Latinas was that they like any kind of sex. The Spanish girls in my unit would climb on a dying soldier and give him his last fuck right after the priest had read them their last rites.

Maria was pretty with light mocha skin and large brown eyes. She had that sensuous mouth with those beautiful full lips that we Anglos get off on. And there was the classic Latina butt that stuck out proudly demanding to be fucked. Take your time Rozz I told myself. Let's not frighten the quarry off.

"It's my day off. Karen or Mrs. Masterson are watching him," said Maria.

"And you have to disappear or its not really a day off," I said.

"Something like that," said Maria demonstrating that not discussing your employers with others was the quality of a good servant. Since I was now a rich woman I was going to have to learn something about how to manage help.

"I have an idea. I've been here a week and have not left the resort. I want to visit Newcastle and check out the local scene. Going alone sounds like no fun. Come with me. I'll hire a car. We can have lunch then walk around and see the sites. My treat," I said.

"I don't know," said Maria. I could tell she was interested.

"I really don't want to go alone. It will be an adventure," I said. "Please say you'll go."

"Suppose the Masterson's need me," said Maria.

"It's your day off. Marilyn can survive a few hours of taking care of her own son," I said. "It will be good experience for her as a mother."

My last remark caused Maria to smile.

"I'll arrange for a car," I said to seal the deal. There was a house phone on a column a few yards away. I walked over and dialed Gordon's extension.

"Gordon Caruthers, how may I be of service?" answered Gordon in that clipped British accent.

"There's an American widow in Villa 12 that requires a good spanking and anal intercourse," I said.

"Love to Rozz but I'm on duty until eight," said Gordon.

"The service is this place is not what one would expect," I laughed.

"I could send over Reggie from the gardening crew. He has ten inches and is a great favorite of the housekeepers. If you see one of them walking a little bowlegged then she's probably thrown her legs to the ceiling while Reggie trims her bush," said Gordon.

"Sounds very interesting and I appreciate the word play but I am planning a little off property trip to Newcastle and I need a car and driver," I said.

"Easily done, I'll have Henry drive you," said Gordon.

"Reggie not available," I teased.

"Doubt he has a license. You and Karen off for a little adventure?"

"No, Maria the Masterson's nanny is going with me," I said.

"Slowly working your way through the Masterson's. When does Nat get his turn?"

"Not for some years," I said. "Where's a good place for lunch?"

"Raffles, I'll give the manager a call to tell him you're coming," said Gordon.

"And a bar for afterwards where a girl can get laid," I asked.

"Bennie's, down on the wharf. But be careful. The local's idea of good sex is to spread the tourist on a pool table and let all the patrons have a sample."

"Sounds like the kind of place a girl can test her edge," I said.

"And the nanny's edge needs testing?"

"Yes, my whore's intuition tells me she is ready to sample all that Nevis has to offer," I said.

"Sorry but I must ring off. There's a crises in the kitchen that needs solving. Henry will be out front in fifteen no make that twenty five minutes," said Gordon as he ended the call.

Henry proved to be an elderly gentleman who drove the big Mercedes like his life depended on never scratching the paint. He drove us into Newcastle at a stately pace. The manager of Raffles was at the curb waiting when we arrived. He ushered us inside to a private booth in the back. I suspected that Gordon had informed him that a seduction was in progress and he was to provide the proper atmosphere. The centerpiece was a beautiful arrangement of fresh flowers.

"Chardonnay all right?" I asked looking at the wine menu.

"Sure, Mrs. Donaldson, I mean Rozz," said Maria looking around at the furnishings. Raffles was not new but it did have a certain charm. It looked like the kind of place that the plantation owners gathered and talked about how little production they were getting out of their workers or the price of commodities. It was reasonably busy. It was the height of the tourist season.

"Rozz, let's just be girl friends today," I said.

"Sorry, Rozz," said Maria smiling a little.

"Tell me, where are you from?"

"Guatemala, actually Guatemala City," said Maria.

"And why did you immigrate?"

"My older brother joined the worker's party at the university. One night a member of the death squad came to our door and said that if we were still there next week, we would all be dead," said Maria.

"Wow, I didn't mean to bring up something unpleasant. If you don't want to talk about it I understand," I said nodding my head for the waiter to pour the wine.

"Maybe it would be a good thing for me to talk about it," said Maria taking a sip of the wine. "This is an excellent chardonnay."

"What did your father do?"

"He owned a chocolate factory."

"He made candy."

"Yes, but he had to sell everything when we left. We were wealthy in our own country but we are poor in America," said Maria.

"So how did you get into the United States?"

"Coyotes."

"What?"

"The Mexicans who smuggle people into America across the border are called coyotes," said Maria.

"I suspect that's not meant in a good way," I said.

"They are awful people. They raped me," said Maria.

"Oh that sounds terrible," I said reaching across the table to put my hand on Maria's. "How old were you?"

"Fourteen, it was after we had crossed the border near San Diego. My mother, father, brother, and I were in the back of a truck. One of them pointed a shotgun toward my family. The other two grabbed me and tore my clothes off. They took my virginity while my family watched."

"How many men raped you?" I asked wishing they had made a video. I love rape videos. The General had several DVDs of actual virgin rapes. They were mostly from the former Yugoslavian countries. The Serbian Black Hand really knew how to take a girl's cherry with maximum impact. I recalled one in particular where a family of five was chained to some pipes in this abandoned factory. In comes a paramilitary dragging a thin mattress. Three others bring in this young girl. I'd guess fourteen at the most, no tits or hips, still a Lolita. The cameraman had some talent. He did a great job of capturing the look on her face of pain, fear and humiliation. They cut off her clothes with bayonets.

The leader paraded her naked over to her family and made her stand there two feet from her father as he ran his hand all over her. There were lots of screams and pleading all in some language I didn't understand. The General was trying to get a subtitled version. They made her suck their dicks then the leader got between her legs and entered her. He worked with the cameraman so there was a terrific set of video frames where he slides his cock in her. The camera keeps switching from her ravaged pussy to facial close-ups of her and her family. There were also close-ups of the paramilitary leader who was one fucking handsome guy. You could see the cruelty and lack of compassion in his face. I used to jerk off pretending he was raping me for the first time.

"Four including the driver," responded Maria interrupting my reverie.

"Did they hurt you?"

"Yes, I bled a lot. They did it more than once. They also made me use my mouth on their penises and they took me anally."

"That must happen a lot with the coyotes," I said pouring Maria another glass of wine.

"Yes, later I learned my father had been warned that I would be raped but he decided to go with those men anyway," said Maria. "He felt the loss of my virginity was a price he was willing to pay to get to the United States."

"Have you ever asked him why he did it?"

"Yes, he said that we had no other choice. We could not stay in Mexico. He hoped that I might be lucky and not be raped. But for the sake of all the family, he had to risk it."

"I suppose sometimes one must do what's best for all," I said.

"I try to think of it that way," said Maria.

"So where are your parents now?"

"My father works in a candy factory in Nashville were they make these awful candies of peanuts and chocolate. They're called Goo-Goo Clusters," said Maria after taking a long sip of wine. She was loosening up.

"And the rest of your family?"

My mother works in a Call Center for the telephone company. My brother goes to the university. He is studying to become an engineer. When he graduates I will go to the university. In the meantime I work for the Masterson's taking care of Nathaniel."

"He's an awfully sweet little boy and you are very good with him. I hope your experiences with the coyotes have not put you off sex entirely," I said.

"No, I have recovered. Since then I have had many wonderful and not so wonderful experiences," said Maria.

"To Maria, a true survivor," I said holding my wine glass up and toasting her.

"You are a very kind lady," said Maria blushing.

"Have other girls been part of your experiences?" I asked as I placed my hand on hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. I'd just asked the sixty-four dollar question. Was she open to rug munching and donut rubbing?

"Yes, some of the very best were with other women," said Maria smiling back at me and returning my gentle hand pressure. She was nobody's fool. She probably knew what I was interested in all along. I try to be clever but I thing I give off pheromones that warn the object of my seduction that I intend to fuck them.

At that point, our lunch consisting of the local fish arrived. Lunch was superb by the way.

We drank another bottle of wine. By the time we finished dessert we were sailing.

"Bennie's,' I said to Henry as we exited Raffles.

"That's a bad place. It's not safe for tourists,' said Henry.

"Why, what could happen to us?" I asked.

"Bad men there, they sometimes harm women who come from the United States,' said Henry.

"Harm, how do they harm them?" I asked a question I knew the answer to. Gordon had clued me in that gang rape was probable. Based on my experience of a few days ago at the beach bar Waco's I knew about the Nevis approach to entertaining female tourists. But I was drunk and horny and rape is a frame of mind. I was in the mood to pull a train and I wanted Maria lying beside me handling her share of the boxcars.

Henry decided to shut up and not answer my question. Newcastle is not a large city. In a matter of moments, we pulled up to a run down waterfront bar that looked like it and the pier it was built on might fall in any second.

I'm a rowdy, foul-mouthed drunk and I exploded into Bennies with Maria in tow. The crowd was overwhelming male and local. I didn't see a single other tourist. There was no mistaking Maria and I for locals. I as wearing a mid thigh white skirt and a tank top. A thong was my only underwear. The heat and humidity was serious enough that I was sweating through my top. My nipples were poking out nicely.

Maria was wearing a jeans skirt and cotton polo that showed some very nice olive toned cleavage.

"Rum, the good stuff," I said when I got to the bar.

"Nevis rum is the best in the Caribbean," said the barkeep pouring us a shot.

"Salude," I said to Maria as I drank the rum. She drank hers. I ordered two more and we drank those.

"Want to shoot some pool?" I asked having noticed there was a separate room toward the back with some tables.

"Sure," said Maria.

We staggered back to the room. There were three regular tables and a smaller snooker table. The place was empty.

"Here, play some music," I said handing Maria some money for the jukebox.

Maria selected some Latin tunes while I racked the balls. I broke. There's nothing sexier than a hot young Latina leaning over a pool table. Maria had a great ass and it stuck out like two halves of a balloon. My mouth started to water. I wanted to fuck her so bad I could taste it. Fortunately for me, Maria also wanted to fuck.

We took a few shots then starting dancing together. I was drunk out of my mind. The room was spinning. We started kissing and rubbing out tits together. I pulled our tops up so we could rub out nipples together as we danced. I noticed that some of the other patrons were looking through the beaded curtain watching us. I didn't give a shit who watched. I figured at some point the locals would come in and join the party.

I reached down and pulled Maria's skirt up to her waist, hooked my thumbs in the waist of her britches and hauled them down as I went to my knees. I buried my face in her pussy inhaling the musky aroma and the odor of the piss she took right before we left the restaurant. Maria spread her legs a little, moaned like a butch in heat, and ran her fingers through my hair as I munched her rug. She had a classic Latina pussy. The labia and the clit were a much darker skin tone than the rest of her. The large clit poked out between her labia crying to be sucked.

Maybe the brown pussy is from an Indian or African slave gene that got passed on to the women south of the border. One day, I'll find a pure Spaniard, one of those light skinned Castilian blondes, and eat her pussy as part of my research.

Maria's cunt was like fine Belgian chocolate, dark and rich. I eased her up on the edge of the table and she laid back spreading her legs. It didn't take long to light the fuse of this Guatemalan firecracker. She wrapped her thighs around my head as she experienced la petite mort. She loudly enunciated a torrent of what I took to be Spanish profanity.

"Let me do you," said Maria as soon as she recovered.

I took off my skirt, shirt, and thong. Several of the patrons were inside the curtain and the others were just outside watching. It won't be long I told myself as I hopped up on the pool table and spread my bent legs. Maria parted my labia and stuck her tongue in my hole.

"You're so wet, Rozz, and you taste delicious," said Maria looking up at me. My pussy wet covered the lower half of her face.

The crowd closed in as Maria ate me. Maria was standing on the floor bent over eating me when I saw one of the locals who had some balls get behind her and lift her skirt. He fingered her for a moment then put his hand to his nose for some sort of sniff test. Satisfied of something, he unbuttoned his ragged shorts and let them drop.

"We're going to get fucked," I whispered to her.

"Isn't that what we came here for?" said Maria pushing her butt back against his pecker.

The stud won the honor of first rape of the day as he fitted his dick in Maria's hole and pushed forward. Maria moaned into my cunt as he pushed into her.

Rape, who was I kidding? You can't rape Rosalind Donaldson. How can you rape someone who wants it more than the rapist?

I recalled the time in my junior year in high school. Briefly, I thought I was in love with Barry Carnes and we went steady for a while. Then I decided I wasn't ready to be sleeping with just one boy and broke up with him. He was pretty pissed about it calling me a slut and a whore.

A week later one of his teammates, Tom Gilman asked me to dinner and a movie. It was a nice date. Tom said his parents were out of town and would I like to come back to his house. I said sure. I figured dinner, movie, and a fuck were better than dinner and a movie. When we got to the Gilman's we went right to the bedroom and did it. Then afterwards while we were smoking a joint, out of the closet pops Barry and his buddies on the basketball team.

Barry thought a gangbang would humiliate me and be his revenge for my breaking up with him. I took a look at the horny boys who'd been standing in a hot closet for an hour watching and listening to Tom and I screw. I realized I had a certain need that was unknown to nice girls. I made a decision to fill that need.

"I'll take you all on. Just don't be nice about it. Let's make it rough," I announced as I got up off the bed and slapped Barry hard across the face. He piled on me, slapped me hard several times really ringing my bell then forced himself in the hole that Tom had so recently fertilized. It turned out to be one of those important moments in a girl's life when she learns the truth about herself.

The sexual tension in the poolroom at Bennie's was intense enough that I climaxed before the stud banging Maria blew his load. Following Maria's lead I spouted a long string of swear words. When I recovered enough to look around, I was pleased to see that the scum of Nevis surrounded us. One of the men close to me had good wood so I told him to climb on.

Maria and I wound up side-by-side getting humped. Nevis men are not into exotic sex. It was a climb on, pump and shoot bunch. Maria like me was a noisy screw. She moaned, groaned, grunted and frequently cursed in Spanish. I was the English version of that.

I'd done maybe ten guys when all hell broke loose. A guy with a mouthful of gold teeth was on top of me slobbering on my tits as his long skinny dick probed my twat when a screaming ranting female attacked us. The three of us tumbled off the pool table onto the hard wooden floor. I might add that Maria being a devoted whore did not loose her focus when I fell. She kept right on fucking the guy on top of her. That kind of concentration and commitment is admirable.

Fortunately I landed on top of gold teeth. This crazy bitch flung herself on me attempting to scratch my eyes out and rip my hair out by its root. I don't think I mentioned that I compete as an amateur kick boxer and am a member of the US Army's Women's Kick Boxing Team.

I finally managed to shove the hysterical woman far enough away that I could kick her in the side of her knee sending her down holding her leg. She wasn't a learner. She got back up and lunged at me. I landed a vicious kick right to the family jewels. Between the fact that I was highly pissed and she was heading toward me, the blow lifted her in the air. She went down holding her pussy with both hands and rolling back and forth on the wooden floor.

Seeing that took the fight out of her, I grabbed her by the hair and drug her to the Ladies Room and into a very nasty stall. This was definitely a third world commode and unluckily for her the last occupant failed to flush. I pulled her to the bowl and pushed her face down into the muck and held it there while she struggled for air instead of shit water.

When I finally let her up, she was gasping for air. I used her hair to turn her over and bent her head back over the rim. I put one hand on her jaw as I clamped my hand over her nose.

"Open up bitch," I said.

When her mouth opened I started a rich and copious flow of golden yellow much of which landed in her mouth.

"Swallow it or I'll break your jaw," I said. Her interruption of an afternoon of good fucking had put me in a foul mood. She sputtered and choked but managed to swallow several mouthfuls of my urine.

I wasn't finished. I yanked up her shirt, freed a tit from her bra and laid it across the bare porcelain rim. Then I slammed the heavy wooden seat down on her knocker. Boy that must have hurt. She screeched like one of Nevis's famed green moneys. Then I did the other boob. Anger spent and sweating like a pig I was done. The girl was lying on the broken tile floor sobbing her heart out. I had no idea why she had attacked me.

I splashed cold water on my face and returned to the poolroom. Maria hadn't missed a cock. She was still fucking like a sprinter on steroids. I motioned to one of the men in the fuck queue that his turn at bat had arrived as I climbed up and took my position beside Maria. I raised my legs and wrapped my arms around the man as he slipped his penis in my love tunnel. Sometimes there is nothing better than soulless, anonymous sex with people you do not know or care about.

Maria and I kept at it. Some of the men were on seconds or thirds when there was more trouble. I was between fucks wiping some of the semen out of my cunt with a filthy rag someone had handed me. Five large females walked into the room. The biggest and strongest looking of the five was the leader.

"You the whore that beat the shit out of my sister?" said the woman.

"Who the fuck are you?" I asked continuing to clean my cunt.

"My name is Zenobia," she said.

"Your little cunt of a sister attacked me for no reason. I was just defending myself."

"That's not what she says," said Zenobia.

"What does she say?"

"She says you stuck her head in shit and pissed in her mouth then smashed her tits in the toilet," said Zenobia.

"She got what she deserved. Listen if you don't mind I got some more guys here to screw," I said.

"Get her,' ordered Zenobia.

Her four-man crew grabbed me off the table and carried me to a back room. It looked to be an office.

"You lucky I got to get to work or I would have really fix your ass. Zenobia don't allow white sluts to mess with her baby sister. Put her over the couch. We're going to teach her not to mess with the ladies of our island home," said Zenobia to her crew.

I was bent over the back of an old couch with my butt toward the ceiling. Two of Zenobia's helpers were holding my arms and another two had my ankles. I couldn't move as I felt Zenobia's hand pushing into my vagina.

She was using some kind of lubricant that combined with all the semen I'd taken make it easy for her to put her fingers in my box. I'm no stranger to fist fucking of the patient open the hole slowly variety. But Zenobia was in a hurry and that turned out to be lucky for me. Four fingers even four fingers and the thumb are easy for the average cunt to take but the fist is another matter indeed. And Zenobia wasn't exactly petite. She was a big girl, a head taller than me. I was begging her to stop as she forced her hand past my opening.

"You like that?" asked Zenobia as she slowly and inexorably pushed her hand inside me.

"No, it hurts, take it out," I pleaded.

"Oh, is it hurting the sweet little rich lady who's got a villa all to herself at the Four Seasons? That's too fucking bad, honey. Marta is my baby sister and I don't allow no one to fuck with her, even rich whores like you," said Zenobia.

"I didn't know she was your sister. I'm sorry. Please stop," I begged. At that point, Zenobia's hand slipped past my opening. She was inside me all the way to her wrist. It was like childbirth in reverse. I wanted to pass out or die.

"Now I'll make a fist and really open you up. Hold her tight. I'm going in all the way to her baby cooker," said Zenobia. She did and I screamed. I could feel her closed fist moving into my uterus.

I lay there paralyzed with pain. Then I felt her rubbing more lubricant on my anus.

"No, you can't. It'll kill me," I said.

"It didn't kill those college girls last month. They cried and said it would but they all lived," laughed Zenobia.

"One of them was more worried because we shaved all her pretty curls off. It made her very sad when she looked in the mirror at her head after we shaved her skull," said one of the crew holding me.

"We'd shave you but I must be at work by 3:00," said Zenobia.

At the moment given a choice between having my head shaved and fists in my rectum and vagina, I would have chosen to wear a wig for a month. But I didn't have a choice. Zenobia kept one fist in my so-called baby cooker while she pushed her fingers past my painfully stretched anal ring.

I've seen gay guys at the Hellfire club in NYC pack each other's butt with shortening and fist each other. I'm talking big strong weight lifter types with huge hands and arms. You'd hear a lot of grunting and groaning along with some very deep breaths but they would eventually get in up to their elbow. It was kind of awesome to watch two leathermen perform for the S&M crowd. Those memories did not keep me from screaming as Zenobia pushed her hand past my anal ring.

"Now, you got both Zenobia's hands inside you. What you thing about that, missy?" said Zenobia once her hand was in my rectum and my sphincter circling her wrist.

"Look, you've made your point. I'm sorry I hurt your sister. Let me go, please," I said using every ounce of self control to control the pain as I spoke.

"Oh, we're not done yet. We're going to fist fuck you then give you some souvenirs of Nevis, something to remember us by, right ladies?" said Zenobia.

Her crew murmured their agreement. Zenobia made a fist of the hand in my ass and went deep. She must have gone in as far as her elbow.

"Hold her still while I fuck her Nevis style,' said Zenobia as she began to thrust her clinched fists in me. The fist in my cunt went in until it landed hard against the wall of my uterus. The one in my ass traveled all the way to her elbow. She worked me for God knows how long. Finally, she pulled out.

"Now for your souvenirs, we don't want the pretty lady to forget her visit to our beautiful island," said Zenobia pushing something large and round past my well-stretched asshole. Whatever it was, there were several of them then I felt her stick something in my butt and push them up into my guts.

"We wouldn't want you to lose them," said Zenobia.

"Please, no more," I begged reacting to the intense pain.

"And for you pussy too, we wouldn't want it to feel neglected," said Zenobia as she stuffed my cunt with the same hard round objects.

She used something to push them deep in my uterus. I am truly fucked I thought to myself. The pain was unbearable.

"You can run along now to the hospital," said Zenobia allowing me to stand up.

I staggered back into the room where the pool tables were located. Some guy was just crawling off Maria. She was using her panty to wipe the cum out of her cunt.

"I've got to get to the hospital," I croaked bent over double holding my guts which felt like they were going to burst. "They put something in my pussy and ass. I've got to get it out. It's killing me."

***

My excursion to Newcastle ended up in the ER of the local hospital. I was screaming in pain all the way from Bennie's bar to the hospital. Maria held me in her arms as Henry proved he wouldn't drive any faster if my life depended on it. Whatever Zenobia had stuffed inside my holes was mind numbing painful. When I put my hand on my abdomen I could feel something hard and round deep inside my body.

"They put something inside her," said Maria to the ER doctor who appeared by the gurney where I was thrashing about begging for a painkiller.

"Where were you?" asked the good-looking physician who under better circumstances I would be interested in fucking.

"Bennie's, it's a bar. She got in a fight with Zenobia," said Maria.

"Give me something for the pain. I'm a nurse," I screamed. Since I knew all about hospital ER procedures I knew that that a good ER does not hand out la-la pills until they know what's up with the patient. Still I was hurting so bad that I didn't give a shit about procedures. Zenobia and her buds had stuffed my cunt and ass full of something and I was in agony.

"Damn that Zenobia. She can't do that to our visitors. The economy depends on them," said the doctor. "Get her into the delivery room."

Nevis is a small island and I quickly understood the good doctor had seen Zenobia's handy work before. The pressure inside my lower abdomen was beyond any pain I'd ever felt there. I've had big cocks and dildos in my orifices but nothing like this. And it was deep inside me. I'd stuck my fingers in my vagina on the ride over and couldn't feel a thing. Whatever it was, Zenobia must have used a broomstick to sink it home.

"Tell me what happened," said the doctor to Maria.

We were in Bennie's bar. Mrs. Donaldson is a guest at the Four Season's Resort. I'm staying there too. I'm a nanny for the Masterson's. It was my day off and Rozz, Mrs. Donaldson invited me to go to Newcastle with her. She's a recent widow."

"What happened at Bennie's?" asked the doctor.

"Rozz and I had a few drinks and played some pool. Some of the guys joined up and before I knew it, they could us on the pool table and raped us," said Maria.

"Are you injured?" asked the doctor.

"No, I'm all right, just concerned about Rozz."

"Did they really rape you? Tourists who visit Bennie's are usually aware that that a session on the pool table is the house special," said the doctor putting on a pair of latex gloves.

"We were pretty drunk. I guess we sort of teased them into doing it," admitted Maria.

"So you two are entertaining Bennie's regulars when all hell broke loose," said the doctor.

"This woman, I think her name was Marta jumped up on the table and attacked Rozz and the man on top of her. The man ran away. Marta and Rozz had a fight. I don't know what it was about."

"Marta is insanely jealous of her husband Pierre. Was the man fucking Rozz a tall skinny man with three gold teeth in front?" asked the doctor.

"He had gold teeth," said Maria.

"That was Pierre. The last time Marta caught him on top of another woman she almost killed the two of them with a machete. What happened next?"

"Rozz beat her up," said Maria.

"Really, Marta is usually the one doing the beating," said the doctor.

"Rozz told me she competed in kick boxing. She laid Marta right out," said Maria.

"Then what happened?"

"Rozz climbed back on the pool table and let another customer fuck her," said Maria.

"And what were you doing all this time?"

"I was on the table beside her. I couldn't do anything. As soon as one ejaculated another took his place,' said Maria.

"Then what happened?"

"These women show up. There were five of them. They grabbed Rozz and took her in another room. I could hear her screaming. After a while, they all leave. Rozz staggers out holding her abdomen. Luckily by that time, the men had finished with me. I helped her back to the car and we drove her here."

"Any idea why you didn't suffer the same fate?" asked the doctor.

"The one you called Zenobia said that since I was a woman of color I could fuck as many men on Nevis as I wanted."

"The leader of those women was Zenobia Watts. She's Marta's older sister. She and her bunch like to teach US women who spread their legs for the men of Nevis a lesson. The fact that your friend beat the shit out of Zenobia's sister didn't help matters. At least they didn't shave Mrs. Donaldson's head. They did that along with many other bad things to a pair of college students that wandered into Bennies, got drunk and pulled a train. They shaved their heads and blacked their eyes then did the same thing to them as they did to Mrs. Donaldson."

"They stuffed something in her pussy and ass?" said Maria.

"Patient's ready, Doctor Embree," said a nurse interrupting their conversation.

I was trussed up in the stirrups extremely anxious for the good doctor to remove whatever Zenobia had stuffed in me. I recalled the last time my legs were in the stirrups; I was in Kuwait and Colonel Bill Dayton was pounding his cock in me. Bill had a thing for fucking a woman in position for a gynecological exam. We did a roll play bit where I pretended to be a patient. His nurse, Lt. Sears, put me in position. Bill did a thorough pelvic exam then hauled his Johnson out and used it as a probe. Lt. Sears hiked up her uniform skirt and mounted my face while the attending physician filled me with his cum. It was a much better memory than what was happening to me now.

Doctor Embree sat down on a stool then rolled it up between my outstretch legs.

"This is going to hurt," said Doctor as he slipped a metal speculum in my vagina and started to expand my opening.

It hurt like hell as he cranked me open.

"Damn that Zenobia. She can't keep doing this," said the doctor putting his hand in my cunt and feeling around.

"Can't you give me something for the pain," I begged.

"As soon as we're done here, I'll give you a shot of Demerol," said the Doctor applying a good deal of pressure as his hand worked its way inside my birth canal.

The doctor selected a tool off the tray of sterilized instruments and put it inside me. I felt it grip something.

"Hold on this is going to be painful," said the Doctor as he pulled something out of me.

I never wanted to pass out so bad in my life. It felt like he had reached up in my cunt, took a firm grip on my uterus and was attempting to turn me inside out. I let out an ear-piercing scream as the object made its passage out of my pussy. I heard a loud clang as he dripped it in a metal receptacle. It turned out there were two more similar objects in my uterus that had to be extracted by the same painful process.

"That was the easy part," said Doctor Embree rolling away to change gloves.

The nurse adjusted my position so my asshole was accessible. Gloves changed the doctor rolled back to position. I can't recall ever having a speculum in my asshole before. He cranked it wide open to the point it was on the verge of splitting my anal ring.

"We call this the gerbil remover," said Doctor Embree holding up something that looked like a hemostat with a very long handle. Ten more minutes of incredible pain and I was empty.

"You had the four, five, and eight in your vagina and the ten, eleven, and fourteen in your rectum," said the Doctor holding up a metal pan containing six pool balls.

"You better get those back to Bennies or the boys won't be able to play nine ball," I said. "Now, how about that shot you promised me?"

"We going to keep you here for several hours to make sure there are no complications," said the Doctor as he stuck a hypo in my bicep.

I didn't pass out right away. I was lying there half awake when I noticed that something was happening in the bed beside me. There was a privacy curtain between the beds but if I craned my neck I could see partially around it. There was Maria, Doctor Embree and the nurse on the bed. The three were naked and the Doctor was screwing Maria whose mouth was noisily servicing the nurse's cunt. My last thought was that I was right about Maria and all Latinas. They were born to fuck.

Chapter 22 – Jason

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

"Hi there, could you use some company," said a voice behind me. When I looked back I saw Jason's handsome head peering over the fence that separated his pool from mine. He must have been standing on something. The fence was taller than he was.

I was only wearing my bikini bottoms but I didn't cover my boobs.

"Sure, come on over," I said. I'd left the beach a half hour ago deciding that I need some peace and quiet away from kids, mothers, and nannies. I had a date that night with Gordon Hightower, the resort's assistant manager. He and I were dining together at 10:30 after which he would take me to his living quarters where like the night before he would whip me senseless then fuck me. His fellow sadist, Vivian Caldwell, the resort's food and beverage manager would join us for what I hoped to be an extremely painful session. Vivian had a knack for tit torture and she had promised to bring some implements that would make me beg for mercy. I was looking forward to groveling before Vivian pleading for her to stop.

But since I had no plans until 10:30 and it was barely 2:30, I had sufficient time for a vanilla fuck and Jason Masterson seemed just the man to do it. It wasn't my first fuck of the day. Karen and I had banged our tennis instructors after our 11:00 lesson. We'd gone about it in a way that made it tawdry and demeaning enough to qualify as interesting.

"I need to be fucked," I said when Karen came by to collect me that morning.

"We could come back here after the lesson and do the double dildo boogie," offered Karen.

"You're sweet but I need to exchange body fluids. I want the kind of sex where the man has absolutely no respect for you afterwards," I said before taking Karen in my arms for a passionate kiss.

"The kind where he treats you like a piece of meat, a stupid dirty whore. He thinks he's done you a favor by allowing you to swallow his pecker snot. Sounds delightful. What do you have in mind?" said Karen.

"Boris and Keith will meet our needs," I said.

"Our tennis instructors?"

"Yes, and as good a pair of male chauvinist pigs as we are likely to find on Nevis. Let's screw Boris and Keith after our lesson. We'll find an excuse to go to their office and they can do us there," I said.

"That place is a cubbyhole," said Karen.

"There's room enough for the two of us to lie down. That's all the space we need," I said.

The Nevis sun was hot and the instructors worked us hard for a solid hour. Karen and I were dripping sweat when the lesson ended.

"We'd like to speak with you two after the lesson. We have something we need to discuss in private," I announced as the lesson was ending.

"Certainly, we can go to our office," said Boris. Boris was the brighter of the two and probably had it figured we were up to no good. Keith made up for his lack of brains with a killer physique. I hoped that the large bulge in his white tennis shorts wasn't his socks.

Karen was right their office was minimal. There was room for a half size desk and a small couch. The air conditioning was barely keeping up with demand when the four of us crowded inside.

"So what can we do for you?" said Keith once we were crowded into the room. Karen and I were seated in two desk chairs in front of them. Boris was standing behind Keith.

"I'm having trouble finding a pair of tennis panty that fit. These are two loose in the crotch. See," I said as I hooked my legs over the chair arms, lifted the short skirt and pulled the crotch aside to expose a very sweaty and wet pussy.

"Mine don't fit right in the butt," said Karen taking her cue from me as she stood up and bent over then pulled her panty down to her knees. She reached back and pulled her buttocks apart to expose her asshole.

Young good-looking tennis instructors get more than their share of pussy or so I've been told. They don't have to work at it either. Most guests stay a week maybe two. At a place like the Four Seasons Resort there is an ever-changing supply of horny wealthy females ranging from the very young (Gordon told me that the instructors had strict orders upon pain of dismissal not to fuck anyone younger than fourteen.) to the ancient doyenne who could barely hold a racket in their diamond-laden fingers. Gordon mentioned that if a seventy year old is expecting one of the instructors to fuck her like she was an SI model then a token of appreciation is expected. US currency preferred.

This was my third lesson with Boris and I'd learned he had a healthy contempt for the female sex. Who wouldn't he since needy women dying for a fuck and shamelessly offering themselves constantly besieged him? Karen and I had just shameless offered them our cunt.

"We can help you with your problem," said Boris stepping past us to lock the door. Karen reached for Boris's cock as he stepped back. He unsnapped his shorts and Karen grabbed the waistband of his athletic supporter. An impressive column of manhood fell forward and Karen took it in one hand while she flicked her tongue across the head.

"Get naked," ordered Keith in a voice that implied we could take our clothes off or he would rip them off, definitely my kind of man.

Off went my tennis bra and skirt followed by my panty. Boris reached down and grabbed first my panty then Karen's. Then he surprised me by sitting back down at the desk opening a drawer and removing a felt tip pen. He stretched my panty tight across the blotter and wrote, "Boris Samsonov and Keith Tyler fucked me, Rozz Donaldson," along with today's date in the gusset. He did an excellent job of legibly writing all that on the material.

"Here, sign," said Boris handing me the pen and panty.

I signed Ms. R. Donaldson. He repeated the act for Karen making her sign then stepped over to a filing cabinet, opened it and removed two empty Ziploc bags. He carefully folded both panty and slipped them inside the bags and sealed them. I was curious enough to glance over into the filing cabinet to see that the entire drawer was packed with similar bags.

It was a strange hobby to say the least. But who's to say what right or wrong. There's a nurse in Kuwait that's got a collection of prophylactics that contain the semen of everyman she's ever slept with since her tour started. She used a ballpoint to write the specifics of the fuck on the condom. She stores them in a cooler at the morgue where she works.

"Kneel down," said Keith in that baritone voice that was making my pussy wet just by listening.

Karen and I kneeled before them like a pair of penitents while they stripped down. The AC was not keeping up with the demand and the room temperature was soaring. Sweat was running down my back.

"Suck me, cunt," said Keith placing his pecker at my lips.

I didn't need further invitation so I applied myself to the task at hand. It was a hot smelly dick already dripping sweat. Karen was working on Boris's cock. The tiny room filled with the slurping sounds of two whores giving blowjobs.

"Choke on it," ordered Keith taking hold of my head and ramming his peter down my throat.

And choke on it I did. He'd caught me by surprise and I gagged when he blocked my throat. He held me there pumping my throat.

"You liked that, didn't you?" he asked when he finally released me. I gasped for breath as drool poured out of my mouth. I glanced over to see Karen's eyes bulging as Boris savaged her gullet.

"Tell me you liked it," ordered Boris as he decided not to cock smother Karen and released her.

"It was great," said Karen her face covered with sweat and saliva.

This is off to an excellent start I told myself as Keith returned to skull fucking me. His hands were crushing the sides of my head as he held me still and slammed his cock down my throat showing absolutely no concern for my welfare. I despise men who worry about their female partner's pleasure or pain. Sensitive caring men are good for many things but fucking is not one of them.

"Rozz, tell me how much you want to rim me," said Keith.

"Please Keith, I need to suck your butt," I whined. Pleading and begging to perform an absolutely despicable act is such a turn on. I added, "Please let me suck your shithole."

"You too, bitch," said Boris turning around and leaning over the desk and spreading his legs.

Keith followed suit. There was a sight that would wet the pussy of Mother Theresa. Two incredible male bodies glistening with sweat leaning over that tiny desk reaching back with both hands to expose their brown eyes. It was a cunt-watering spectacle.

I pushed my face between Keith's cheeks and passed my tongue over his sphincter. Men love having their peter jerked while you rim them. Keith's butthole relaxed and my tongue found its way inside where the good stuff was. I firmly believe there is no point in eating ass unless there is shit for flavoring. French fries need ketchup and a butthole needs crap to make it taste right.

"Open up girls and inhale," said Boris right before they both farted. An Indian as in Hindu Indian couple taught me the pleasure of breathing farts. Farting is a bigger deal in the sub-continent. There are wind-breaking contests that attract thousands. It's tricky to inhale just as the fart rushes out. You want to take it all the way down to your lungs and hold it like it was a toke of good weed. Keith and Boris were practiced in the art of the slow release and I managed an eight count inhale, hold, and exhale. That's hard to match even for an everyday fart breather.

We worked their butthole and jerked them. Boris had managed a wet one and Karen had a cute little brown ring around her lips.

"On the desk," ordered Keith.

Karen and I were placed at opposite ends of the desk. Our heads were side by side. That was nice. We kissed while they fucked us. They switched a number of times before they dumped their loads.

"69 you two," ordered Boris as the two dismounted.

Boris and Keith sat on the couch as I climbed on top of Karen. Eating a fresh creampie out of a pussy that just spent an hour running all over a tennis court is a wonderful experience. Sweat, semen and saliva, the three S's are all mixed together in a warm flavorful pussy soup. I used my tongue to spoon out all I could as I finger fucked Karen's rectum. Her butthole was ripe too with a tantalizing aroma and flavor.

The AC was totally overwhelmed and the room was a sauna. Breathe the air and you were inhaling molecules of bodily fluids. I glanced over to see that Boris and Keith were sitting on the couch jerking each other's cock. Why is it that bisexual men are the best fucks? All of a sudden Boris leaned over to Keith and took his cock in his mouth. I love to watch men engage in homosexual acts. Many women admire leathermen and their ilk. At the Hellfire Club there's always a collection of femmes lining the walls watching the men. I get short of breath when I recall seeing one of those body builders in his leathers shoving his muscular forearm in the ass of a guy in a sling. The guy in the sling is whining and begging but not speaking the safe word that would cause his buddy to pull out.

Karen and I did out lesbo thing while Boris and Keith did their gay thing for a while.

"Hang your asses over the edge of the desk," said Keith when they were ready to screw us again.

They had a tube of K-Y they used to lubricate our assholes. They stretched us out with their fingers then forced their cocks into our shit chutes. Once again they switched off after a while.

"You want to swallow my cum, bitch," asked Keith.

"Yes, shoot that peter juice in my mouth," I replied.

Karen and I sucked on their shit stained cocks until they ejaculated. Karen and I kissed swapping semen as we jerked each other's clit. We got each other off pretty quick.

"See you tomorrow,' said Keith tossing me my clothes and throwing us out like the two used whores we were.

"Not even a thank you or I enjoyed fucking you," said Karen as we were walking back panty less to the villas.

"I know. It was delicious," I said.

I hadn't showered when I got back to the villa. I just slipped on my bathing suit and went to lunch. I was in the mood to let all those juices dry on my skin. I only stayed a few minutes at the beach when I decided I needed some solitude. So that had been my day when Jason dropped over to see me.

"I have a favor to ask," said Jason pulling up a patio chair beside my chaise. He was dressed like he had just come from the golf course.

"Always willing to help when I can," I said.

"I want to host a poker party for the guys I've been playing golf with and I was wondering if I could do it at your villa tomorrow night. I'd pay for the food and drinks of course. I'd do it at my place but where would all the Masterson clan hang out while it goes on. The main resort has some rooms available but they aren't suitable if the guys get a little wild."

"Sure, you can use my place. How many?"

"Ten including me. Several of them are major customers of my company and I need to do something to entertain them."

"Want me to stay and bar tend?" I asked.

"You don't have to do that. You can spend the night at our place," said Jason.

"You'll need somebody to make drinks and pass the food around. I like being useful," I said.

"The guys might get a little aggressive with someone as attractive as you around. You're a recent widow and I would not want you to be embarrassed or offended," said Jason.

"You're such a bull shitter Jason Masterson. You're fully aware that I am a slut who's fucked all the Masterson's except you and Nat," I said.

"I don't know what to say," said Jason taken back by my outburst.

"Nothing to say. I'll be more than happy for you to use my place. I'll be the bartender and eye candy," I said.

"Thank you," said Jason.

"I only ask one thing in return," I said.

"Sure, what is it?"

"Eat my pussy then fuck me," I said pulling down my bikini bottoms.

Chapter 23 – Making It real

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

I was on the verge of realizing one of my long held fantasies. How may times had I masturbated as I thought about what I hoped would happen tonight. The opportunity for me to orchestrate my own vicious gang rape had presented itself and I embraced it.

I'd spent the afternoon in the spa of the resort. I'd opted for the works. Facial, manicure, pedicure, and an hour spent in a warm mud bath were just starters. I'd had a Brazilian bikini wax that had removed every hair from my sex and asshole. A full body massage had left me relaxed to the point of human window putty. I finished up in the salon for a dye, cut and style job that left me with just the right hair do. It was a fun way to spend over $800.

I checked my self in the mirror for the tenth time. I was aiming for the all American girl look. The pale blue full skirt was just the right length for the resort, shorter and it would have been considered trashy, longer and it would cover too much. It was reasonably tight over my hips and butt with a flare at the bottom that would easily swing when I walked. Predators are attracted to movement. The hem was a respectable four inches above my knee but the last four inches were sheer. The skirt screamed teaser.

I'd chosen a matching floral print silk blouse that had the most darling yellow flowers. The resort shop sold my favorite brand of undies. The matching bra and panty were sheer. Take the blouse off and the bra cups were sheer enough to display my nipples. The front of the thong panty was also sheer. Lift the skirt and there was Rozz's pussy hiding behind almost nothing at all.

Shoes were important when it comes to attracting the male. Mine were a strap scandal with a four-inch heel. High enough to give my butt the right amount of elevation to bring the male's cerebral cortex to thoughts of anal intercourse but low enough that I could move gracefully around the room serving drinks. I'd be swinging my hips and making my skirt swish.

I was trying not to think about what I hoped would happen tonight. It might not come off as I planned. Besides too much anticipation and my over eager pussy would ruin the gusset of my panty.

What was my fantasy? In a word, rape, sadistic, male, gang rape by ten men who would take me brutally showing me no mercy. They would be cruel. They would take pleasure in hurting me.

That was why I had worked so hard to look wholesome and stylish. If I were looking for an ordinary gangbang, I'd simply dress like a whore. A tight spandex dress that barely covered my butt and no underwear would have done the trick. I could have invited the men into the bedroom and they would have been happy to go. But I was looking to bring out the beast in them and that required I give them something they could despoil like barbarians sacking an ancient city with intent to rape every virgin in it.

That required that over the course of the evening I slowly make them want me while I played the role of the cock teaser. I needed to bring them to the point that they were ready to explode and then push the plunger. I wanted to face ten angry men who had one thought on their mind.

I looked over the bar to make sure the booze was all set. I'd told Vivian of my plan and she had set up a complete service bar in my place. Her only request was that I give her a blow-by-blow account of what transpired. My plan depended on alcohol. There was a large tub of ice filled with a half dozen brands of beer. Sober they were nice guys but after a few drinks things would start to change. Jason had provided four boxes of cigars. My place would smell awful afterwards but that was a small price to pay. What made the average man more amenable to the idea of rape than an expensive Cuban cigar after a four or five stiff drinks?

"Showtime," I whispered to myself when I heard the doorbell ring.

***

The poker party was scheduled for 8:00 but Jason arrived at 7:45. Since he was the host that was expected.

"You look terrific," said Jason taking me in his arms. I could tell from the look on his face that my afternoon makeover had worked. His hands traveled down to my hips and he pulled me against his crotch. The day before I'd let him eat me and fuck me but tonight I was playing hard to get.

"Don't muss the hair,' I said pushing back.

"Oh sure," he said looking disappointed. "Maybe after everybody leaves, we can get together for a night cap."

"We'll see," I responded keeping it non-committal. I was betting that Jason had told his golf buddies that I was a nymphomaniac and would fuck them all. I planned to raise their expectations then dash them leading to frustration, violence and rape.

They arrived in groups of twos and threes. It didn't take long to figure out who was the Alpha Plus male of the group. Mike Ebbers was mid thirties, tall, good looking, former All American at the University of Tennessee and now the CEO of a chain of fast food restaurants. Earl Cheatham I assigned as second to Mike. Earl was old Nashville money. His family had founded the largest bank in the state. Earl told me he was a real estate developer. All of the ten were wealthy Southern businessmen who were used to having their own way. All except Donnie Curtis were married. Donnie had recently gone through a messy divorce. According to Jason, he's caught his wife with her head between the thighs of their daughter's fifth grade teacher. The male ego finds it hard to accept the loss of a mate to another man. Being replaced by another woman is a much worse blow to the self-esteem of the Southern male. Jason said that Donnie had anger issues when it came to women. I intended to exploit that.

Jason introduced me to everyone. I could tell from the way they looked at me that Jason had told everyone that he had fucked me. Men can be so predictable. I made a point of remembering their names. Right off, I established myself physically. I gave each of the men a good hug and a little kiss when we were introduced. I wanted to communicate that Rozz was anything but hands off.

I made and delivered their drinks flirting with everyone as I passed between the tables and the bar.

"Rozz, this is a might fine drink," said Mike wrapping his arm around me when I delivered the whiskey sour he requested. Mike let his hand fall first to my waist then to the top of my butt where it rested.

"I worked my way through college tending bar," I replied pressing my butt against his hand.

"Bet you were the cutest little bartenderess," said Mike rubbing my ass.

"I got my share of tips," I said unleashing the first of many sexual oriented double entendres of the evening.

"I just bet you did," said Mike.

Mike was the kind of super egotistical male that normally I would have spread my legs for without thinking twice about it. Unlike most former athletes he had not run to fat. He looked firm and muscular. He reminded me of Trace. You know the type. I bet when he was in high school, he'd finger fuck his date then go to school the next day without washing his hands and let his buddies smell the girl's cunt off his index finger. I imagined he regularly degraded and humiliated his wife when he was bored. I could picture Mike riding in the golf cart bragging how the little woman just loved to suck his dick.

Earl was the kind that thought he was smarter than all the rest of us. He was the first to corner me in the kitchen when I was taking a tray of fresh munchies out of the refrigerator. He came up behind me and put his hand up my skirt resting it on my bare thigh. One of the difficult parts of the evening was keeping myself under control. Several times, I almost said too hell with my fantasy. I'm going to invite them into the bedroom and fuck their brains out. I had to keep reminding myself that I was attempting something special. I could find ten men to screw me anytime.

"Earl, now don't get me horny. I promised Jason that I would help out," I said after I turned around and embraced him.

"Let's go in the bedroom. They can get their own drinks," said Earl kissing my neck and running his hands over my bare ass.

"You're not wearing any panties," said Earl surprised when he felt my bare buttocks.

"It's a thong," I countered.

"Show me,' said Earl.

I pushed him back and raised the front of my skirt so he could see. I could tell from the look in his eyes he was damn close to throwing me over his shoulder and carrying me off. I dropped the skirt and picked up the tray.

"When do I get to see more?" said Earl.

"Maybe later, let me get this food in there before anyone starves," I said carrying the tray past him.

I kept the food and booze flowing. That part was close to work. I flirted shamelessly as I passed from table to table. Some women don't like to flirt but I am not one of them. After two hours, I'd sat in every lap, hugged every head to my bosom and let their hands wander where they may.

With each drink they were becoming more aggressive. Hands that used to rest on the back of my thigh were cupping my buttocks. I had to constantly remind myself of my goal.

***

It was a little after 10:00 when they began to metamorphasize from man to beast. When there were no cocktails to deliver, I'd taken to sitting on a nearby high bar stool. My legs were crossed and I was showing a generous portion of thigh. It was a hard drinking bunch. Most were on their fourth or fifth drink. No one had to drive home just stumble through the resort grounds back to their place and fall in bed with the wife. I fantasized their conversation.

"Ooh, you smell like cigar. How was it?" the wife would mumble.

"I won $700 and we raped the shit out of the woman who was there."

"There was a woman there," said the wife coming a little more awake. "You didn't tell me there was going to be any women there."

"Yeah, must of slipped my mind, Rozz something, she's a recent widow. Her husband was killed in the war."

"Who invited her?"

"She's a friend of Jason Masterson's. The poker party was at her villa. Jason said she was practically a nymphomaniac. He's been screwing her."

"Does Marilyn know about this?"

"Just between the two of us, Rozz is bi and so are the Masterson women. All three of them have had sex with her. Jason got blown totally away and told everyone how he had watched her seduce his entire family even the nanny. She's a fucking nympho all right."

"You are shitting me, even little Judith?"

"Yes, even little Judith."

"I'd like to meet this Rozz something."

"Why, you want to do some rug munching?"

"Well, you fucked her. Why can't I?"

"Oh did we fuck her. Rozz turned out to be a cock teaser. All show and no play but we fixed her ass."

"How?"

"Couple of the guys beat the shit out of her then we stripped her naked and gang fucked her."

"How many of you?"

"Let's see, ten, there were ten of us."

"And you all raped her?"

"Yeah, we spread her out on the card table and each took a turn then we hauled her sobbing ass into the bedroom and raped her other holes."

"Anally?"

"And orally, everybody skull fucked her."

"Skull fucked, what a horrible expression, what does it mean?"

"Hold the slut by the ears and ram your cock down her throat till you blow your wad."

"Didn't she choke?"

"I'll say. It was hot as hell. Rozz is crying and begging us to stop. She almost turned blue a couple of times. She drooled all over her tits."

"So she was double penetrated?"

"Triple, we like to share. Mike and Earl turned her butt to the ceiling and put both their dicks in her asshole."

"At the same time?"

"Yeah, her butthole was wide open. You could spit in it."

"Which you no doubt did."

"I hawked a lunger down her chute. What the hell are you doing?"

"Jerking off, you got me horny."

"You want to have some of the guys over for cards when we get back home. We could send the kids to your mothers."

"You'd let other men screw your wife while you watched."

"Sure, why not."

"Let me think about it."

At least that was the way I envisioned the conversation. It probably didn't happen quite that way.

I was replenishing Mike and Earl's drinks when the tide turned. I was reaching over to hand Mike his drink when Earl put his hand up my skirt and grabbed my naked ass. I was so excited I almost wet myself.

"Why don't you loose the skirt and blouse and dance for us?" said Earl.

"No way, are you crazy?" I exclaimed.

"Look Rozz, Jason told us all about you. We just want some of what you've already given Jason."

"Yeah, you've lost your husband so you must be horny as a bitch in heat," said Mike reaching over to lift the front of my skirt.

"Rozz, you can't expect us to leave here without sampling what you been shining all night. You know you want it or you wouldn't have agreed to be here," said Donnie.

"No, its nothing like that. I was just helping Jason. His family has been so nice to me."

"I fucked her right out beside the pool yesterday. She couldn't wait to get my cock in her," said Jason.

"Enough of this bullshit, you going to get naked or not?" said Mike.

"I'm not, you guys please leave," I said.

"Not till after we've got some of what Jason got," said Mike standing up grabbing my arm.

"No," I cried jerking my arm away and trying to slap him. Mike grabbed my wrist and squeezed it. I cried out in pain as he almost crushed it.

I was off to the races.

***

"Ooof," escaped from my lungs when Mike's fist landed in my mid section. He knocked the breath out of me and I started to crumple to the floor. But before I could drop to the carpet, he grabbed me by my hair jerked me upright and smacked his big fist into my left tit. I would have screamed in pain but I didn't have any air in my lungs to make a sound other than a chortle.

"Did you see Mike bust that tit?" cried somebody.

"Bet that hurt," said another.

I'd figured they'd start with a beating. To Southern and Hispanic males, beating a woman is a very close second to fucking her.

"Cock teaser, that's how we treat cock teasers in Gaston, Alabama," spat Mike letting go of my hair that he was using to hold me upright. I very much wanted to be down on the floor writhing in pain.

Once the Alpha Plus male had landed a blow, the Alpha Minuses got their licks in. Donnie did the hair handle thing once more and slapped me hard across the face then balled his fist and punched my right tit. Jason, my co-host not to be outdone took over from Donnie. He slapped me in the face shoving my nose to one side. Blood came rushing out my nostrils. Then he kicked me right in my cunt. Inside of thirty seconds, the three had beaten me bloody. My hands were clutching my crotch. His toe had landed right on my clit. I was in a crouch paralyzed in pain.

"Good shot to the cunt," said Earl high fiving Jason. Then he grabbed the waistband of my skirt, undid the hook and zipper allowing it to fall to the floor.

"Let's see what you been parading around her all tonight," said Mike placing his hands on the collar of my blouse and ripping it open.

I felt the buttons popping off and heard them landing on the card table. Earl pulled the blouse off my shoulders then unhooked my bra and it fell off. Mike grabbed my arms and pulled them over my head as he spun me around so everyone could see my boobs.

"Look here everybody, see what fine titties Rozz has," said Mike.

"Please don't rape me," I pleaded. There were real tears in my eyes. My head was still woozy from their slaps but everyone seemed to be going well. There was a trickle of blood coming out one of my nostrils and I could taste blood in my mouth. My tits and cunt were on fire. I reminded myself that every good gang rape begins with a beating and they had kicked the shit out of me.

"This cunt has been putting out for any man or woman who looked in her direction," said Jason.

"No, please don't, I'm a recent widow," I whined as Earl grabbed the waistband of my thong and pulled it down.

"Like we give a shit," said Mike. "Put her on the table. I'm going first."

"No, for the love of Jesus, don't," I cried as they lifted my up on the card table and slammed me down. Someone stuffed my thong in my mouth as a gag.

I kept pleading and begging them not to rape me. The role-play was going great as far as I was concerned. I had been beaten bloody, stripped naked, and my first rapist was parting my labia with the head of his cock.

I lay there sobbing my heart out as Mike shoved his cock in my vagina. I felt a real sense of accomplishment when I looked around and saw the crazed look in the eyes of the other nine.

***

The first pass was a quick pounding by ten hard dicks. There was nothing kinky about it. I continued to sob and plead as one by one, they climbed on me, put it in and pumped until they dumped. It was delicious to be used that way. Sex with the wife probably started with mutual oral where the husband got the wife off using his mouth while he fingered her butthole. As soon as the wife hit the big O, the husband got a half and half. After the wife sucked his dick, he penetrated her and flailed away until he ejaculated. I presented them with an opportunity to forget all that foreplay bullshit. The fact that I was crying and begging them to stop made it all the more exciting. Let's face it. Given a choice between consensual sex and rape, most men would choose rape.

"No more," I pleaded as the last man rolled me. He was a fat little bald man guy named Bill who owned several automobile dealerships in Birmingham, Alabama.

"Rozz, we're just getting started," said Mike.

"Oh please no," I whined. God I was glad to hear that.

"Let's take her in the bedroom," said Earl.

Hands lifted me off the card table. I was carried to the master bedroom and dumped on the bed.

"It's dick sucking time, Rozz," said Mike putting his cock against my lips.

"No, I won't," I whined.

An open palmed slap that left my ears ringing convinced me otherwise.

"You like it up the ass, don't you Rozz," said Jason who was working some spit covered fingers in my rectum.

I'd willingly let him butt fuck me yesterday. But that was then and this was now. I grunted in pain when his cock pushed past my sphincter.

For the next ninety minutes, they worked all three of my holes. Failure to cooperate was rewarded with a slap or two. They got a kick out of making me gag on their cocks when they pushed them into the opening of my throat. A couple of times, they kept my air passage blocked so long I almost passed out.

Matters became seriously painful when Mike and Earl held me in a shoulder stand while they both got their cocks in my asshole. Now that is a painful way to be fucked. You feel like your anal ring is going to rip and your rectum burst from the pressure.

Luckily, they maintained the degradation.

"Rozz, your shithole is wide open," said Earl when they temporarily withdrew. "You are the filthiest slut I ever did meet."

"Yeah, you can see right up your butt," added Mike.

After the double fucked me to the point that my body was consumed by pain, they all spit in my open butthole like it was some ritual of Southern white male gang rape. I wondered if the pre civil war planters spit in the open assholes of slave girls. I wish I had studied more history in school.

The ten had dropped several loads in me before they exhausted their supply. For something of a finale, they carried me into the bathroom, deposited me in the tub and proceeded to piss on me. Some of them had consumed several bottles of beer and needed to relieve themselves.

"Open your mouth, slut," said Jason directing his flow on my face.

I opened wide accepting and swallowing several streams at once. Thoughtfully, someone had shut the drain and I found myself laying in two inches of warm male pee. It was over. They left me there enjoying the aroma, feel and taste of their urine.

I licked the yellow drops off my lips as I listened to the sounds of their bragging about what they'd done to me and how I had deserved it. As I heard their expressions of camaraderie, I realized I had fostered a moment of intense male bonding where the men had become members of a rape fellowship that they would fondly recall. If any of those men ran into each other decades in the future, the conversation would eventually get around to that night in Nevis when we fucked that slut's brains out and left her in a bathtub of piss. The fact that I had been instrumental in making that happen made me smile as I reached between my legs and fingered my clit. I scooted down in the tub and turned my head for another mouthful of piss.

Chapter 24– Butt Shake

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

The name of this chapter is so misleading. You'll learn why if you read on.

"Oh yeah, give it to me, pack my shit," I moaned as I felt the cock travel from my sphincter past my rectum and into my intestine. My hand was working my clit as I was being screwed in my ass and mouth. It was double penetration at it finest.

I was poolside on all fours, knees and elbows resting on a cushion. A tall extremely muscular black man was at my rear with his cock buried in my ass giving me those long deep strokes that make for the best anal intercourse. You know it's the premium brand when each time he pulls back you feel your shit being sucked down your large intestine and when he pushes in you can feel that same shit being tamped firmly down. You half expect to open your mouth and regurgitate a warm tightly packed turd. Of course if you have a cock down your throat that's not possible.

My face was buried in the crotch of another well-endowed local provided by my hostess. His manly hands had a firm grip on the sides of my head and I was on the receiving end of a take-no-prisoners skull fucking. The kind where he's rams his dick down your throat and keeps it there moving just a couple of inches expanding and contracting your esophagus. My breathing was definitely not his problem. My tits were covered in drool that was I was gagging up when I did get a break.

Oh fuck how I love being used and abused especially when there's a crowd watching. There were fifty party guests standing around sipping champagne, eating the delicious buffet and listening to the small band as they watched my competition and me get reamed at both ends. If you're an exhibitionist like me being double penetrated while half a hundred well dressed people watch and make bets on who will win is about as good as it gets. When I was in high school, I used to jerk off fantasizing that I was called up on stage during Assembly and ordered to take off my clothes. Then while all the other students sat in their seats watching quietly, Mr. Saunders the Principal and Mrs. Cowan the Vice Principal forced me to have oral sex with them. I'd picture myself kneeling there naked with the entire school laughing and pointing at me as I worked my clit and munched Mrs. Cowan's very thick shag carpet.

At the moment, I was happy and satisfied, as any woman should be with two beautiful black cocks inside her. It was what was going to happen after they finished that had me worried.

The party was on the Nevis estate of an heiress whose home of record was in the Hamptons. She inherited several parts of the Manhattan skyline and was therefore richer than God. Portia, my hostess, told me earlier that the Nevis Plantation had been in her family for three generations but she was the one who realized it had more potential than a quiet place to rest when the drugs and alcohol of Long Island had gotten overwhelming and she needed to detox. She'd selected a cadre of beautiful black locals who had girth, length, and stamina and put them on retainer for her parties and visits.

"I was interested in men who could sweat the free radicals out of me through my pussy. I wanted to create my own personal stud firm so I could hop on my jet and fly down for 48 to 72 hours of non stop fucking that would cleanse my blood and restore my faith in the female orgasm," was how Portia described it. I wasn't sure what all that meant but it sounded good. Portia was in her fifties and still looked as young as the best board-certified cosmetic surgeons could make her.

The stud face fucking me started giving off signs that he was about to blow his load so I got set for the capture. Portia claims the local diet heavy on vegetables and fruit produces a larger than normal quantity of semen that is extremely creamy and flavorful. It was certainly larger than what I had learned to expect and not as salty. I'm not a cum connoisseur like a lot of women I know. One hot load is pretty much like another.

I sucked on his piss hole as I massaged his balls to drain the very last drop into my yap. When his tank was empty I reached over and grabbed the water glass that contained the previous two loads I'd expectorated and added the third.

I looked over at Colette my competitor and saw that she was spiting her man's load into the glass. Volume wise we appeared even. It wasn't my first contest where filling a glass with semen you'd sucked out of men's balls was the objective. Five years ago, I'd gotten drunk out of mind at a UMASS fraternity party and competed against two other blowjob artists. The rules were much different. Whoever got the most semen in the glass over a one-hour period got to drink all three. Guess who won? I recall standing there surrounded by naked college boys downing those three glasses as they cheered me on. Someone took pictures of me swallowing what must have been twenty loads. I've still got those pictures in a scrapbook stored in my parent's attic.

I sounded a long sigh as the guy at my rear grunted, said something in the local patois and painted the insides of my rectum. That made for three loads of cum in my ass. As soon as the guy got off me, another hired stud took his place. The fourth guy wasn't there to fuck me. He was going to piss in my butt.

Portia had trained her fuck staff well and the sensation of warm urine filling my bowels was almost immediate. It's kind of groovy to feel your guts being filled with a guy's urine. I looked over at Colette who was getting her piss enema. The look on her face said she was enjoying it. Colette had been born and raised in Paris. I'd always heard the Parisians were the most twisted people on earth especially the women. Later Colette told me she ate her first pussy before she was ten. That first pussy turned out to be her mom's. Mom was apparently not the best of parents since she let the landlord bust eleven-year-old Colette's cherry in exchange for forgiveness of a month's rent. But that's the French for you. The women are all whores it's just a matter of price.

Once the first guy had drained his bladder another replaced him. Two big pisses and I was full, tight as a tick. I could feel the liquid sloshing around inside me mixing with the jism and my shit.

Karen Masterson was standing there with Gordon Hightower stroking his cock as they watched the contest. Karen and I had agreed to accompany Gordon who was invited not because he was a member of Portia's social set but because he did little favors for her and ran interference with the local authorities in case anything happened like a local girl being raped to death on the estate's property.

For fifty guests, servants, and a band, the crowd was pretty quiet. Most of the guys had exposed their cocks so one of the females could stroke it. Several women had both hands filled. Other femmes had dropped their shorts and were working the little man in the boat. The thought that half a hundred folks were jerking off to what was happening to Colette and me added to the turn on.

Colette was French to the core. Right after Karen, Gordon, and I had arrived at the party, she'd confronted me made a couple of nasty remarks about our soldiers in Iraq and how we were mistreating prisoners. I'd replied that it was nothing compared to how the French treated the Algerian rebels. Portia was nearby. She was a shrewd hostess and she realized that her party would be the talk of the season if she could get a little Franco-American competition going.

"Why don't you two settle this with a butt shake?" said Portia.

"Butt shake?" I questioned. I had idea what she meant.

"Yes, what is this butt shake?" asked Colette.

"Each of you takes three loads of cum up our ass and three in our mouth. The blowjobs you spit in a water glass. After you've absorbed six ejaculations, you take two live piss enemas, mix up the content of your bowels with a little dancing then squat over the glass and empty your bowels. How does it sound so far?" asked Portia?

"Hot, I love piss enemas," I said.

"If she can I can," added Colette.

"Then we see who can drink the other's glass the fastest," said Portia.

It is amazing what the human mind is capable of. I'd drunk my share of piss but never any that had just emerged from somebody else's shit hole. I'd have to swallow Colette's saliva, cum, piss, and whatever else managed to exit her sphincter. I'd drink her butt shake and she would do mine.

"Sounds very exciting, I can't wait," I said with my usual bravado.

"And we have a prize for the winner," said Portia.

"Oh, I love prizes," said Colette.

"The loser becomes the winner's bitch for the next three hours. The winner gets to take her bitch to visit Lars my dungeon master. She'll get to do the most dreadful things to her. Things that would turn the Marquis De Sade's stomach," said Portia.

"I'm in," I said.

"Me too," said Colette.

And one more thing, I have a very special surprise for both the winner and the loser. I'm saving that for last," said Portia. "It will be my grande finale."

Piss enema done, I carefully stood up squeezing my butt cheeks tight. I didn't want to loose anything that would help quench Colette's thirst. The band started playing an old Bob Marley tune and Colette and I danced while the others watched. We did some serious tongue kissing as we rubbed our naked bodies together. Our round bellies rubbed together as we fingered each other's twats. Colette struck me as a kindred spirit who like myself was constantly pushing her edge.

I could feel my guts churning but I managed to hold it all in. Portia produced a couple of toilet chairs (The woman thought of everything but a good hostess usually does.) I carefully released my bowel into the glass. The bartender came over and gave both concoctions a good shaking. Colette and I were seated facing each other. The glasses were filled with a cloudy brownish greenish liquid with swirls of semen in suspension. It looked like Satan's idea of a lava lamp. There were also little brown balls of shit floating on the top. It was not for the squeamish.

Butt shake preliminaries over someone would yell go and we would chug each other's butt shake. The first empty glass to hit the table was the winner. Most people would find the butt shake competition a little hard core but it was a party and I was in the mood to go beyond the kinky to the truly perverted.

Portia carefully swapped glasses trying not to spill the very full sixteen-ounce tumblers. The quantity of liquid was roughly equal.

We placed one hand on the glass. On command I quickly tilted it to my lips and swallowed. I thought I was fast as lightening but my empty glass landed on the tabletop a tenth of a second after Colette. Damn I was the loser bitch. My next three hours were going to be a living French hell.

Portia came over and fastened a dog collar around my neck then handed the leash to Colette

"Before we go to the dungeon, I have a little gift for my bitch," said Colette pulling on my leash to bring my face between her legs.

"Eat me," commanded Colette.

I'm a good loser so I dove right in. Besides eating pussy while a crowd watches is the kind of raunch I love.

"You need some French piss, American bitch," said Colette exposing her pee hole to me. "Open your nasty American mouth and catch every drop."

Since I'd lost the contest fair and square, I had no complaint. I leaned in with an open mouth and covered her urethra. I greedily took my medicine. Colette's piss joined the concoction already in my belly.

"This is so fucking hot. I want you to piss in my mouth as soon as they're done," I heard one of the spectators say who was obviously a follower not a leader.

Colette sprayed in my mouth and face. I swallowed all that I could but the spray covered my face and hair.

"Clean me with your tongue and lick up the puddle off the pool deck," said Colette offering me her dripping snatch.

I licked all the golden drops off her sex then clean up the small puddle on the tile floor. God this was hot as hell. My cunt was oozing cock oil. When I looked down at my tits, I saw my piss-covered nipples were hard as sapphires.

"Thank your mistress for allowing you to swallow French piss," said Colette.

"Thank you Mistress Colette for allowing your pathetic bitch to swallow your wonderful French piss," I said embellishing my statement.

"Now I'll have to punish you extra hard for making a mess on Portia's floor," said Colette standing up and tugging me up by my leash. Colette turned around and bent over grabbing the chair arms.

"I didn't shit everything. Suck my butt empty," said Colette reaching back to expose her brown eye.

I placed my mouth over her butt hole and went to work with my lips and tongue. After all the recent anal she was pretty open. In no time, her sphincter relaxed and I got the dregs of what didn't go in the glass. It wasn't quite liquid or solid. Thank God there wasn't a lot of it. I sucked her ass dry. We were ready to move on to the next phase.

"The dungeon is this way," said Portia taking Colette and I by the hand and leading us back toward the main house. "All the guests can watch the dungeon through the new pool side monitor I had installed last week."

"When we arrived at the party I questioned what the huge monitor at one end of the pool was for. Gordon had told me he had arranged for its delivery and installation. It was a high definition video monitor that was 144 inches square. He said all the electronics and software were state of the art. Portia had referred to it as her 'Torture Entertainment Center'. As I walked dutifully behind Portia and Colette I looked back to see that the crowd was getting naked and drawing up recliners and chairs facing the screen.

Chapter 25 – High Tech Torture 1

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

I'd seen more BDSM dungeons than most people ranging from the converted basements of suburban track homes through commercial establishments like New York's Hellfire Club to the more elaborate pain pens of rich families like the Donaldson's. I rated the Donaldsons the best of the best prior to walking into Portia's chamber of agony. The crazy thing was that Portia's looked nothing like an S&M venue.

Say the word dungeon and most of us think of a gloomy stone walled subterranean room with recognizable antique looking equipment scattered about. I got wide eyed as Colette led me on my leash into the brightly lit white tiled room. It looked more like a first class Operating Room than a torture chamber. It was sparkling clean. Exotic looking electronics and bizarre appearing electro-mechanical devices were placed around something that resembled a monorail.

What I hadn't realized up to that point was that Portia had a creative and innovative approach to causing pain that far surpassed anything I had ever experienced. I'd taken her for a rich thrill seeking bitch that wasn't that bright. In fact, she was the Marquis de Sade of the transistor age.

One thing I immediately noticed was the separate glass enclosed control room off to the right. There were three people inside dressed in white lab coasts watching me expectantly. Computer displays surrounded the semi-circular control desk where they were seated.

The one named Lars rushed out to be introduced to Colette and me. I knew he was Lars because that was stitched across his lab coat pocket. I was expecting a well-muscled troglodyte with a whip arm much bigger than his other. Instead I got Joe College right down to his tortoise shell glasses.

"Let's get Slave Rozz in the Frame," said Lars pointing toward a complicated piece of equipment that resembled a playground jungle gym on a movable track. While Lars and an assistant named Rory were readying the self-adjusting restraints to place around my extremities, Portia proudly explained the basics of her dungeon.

"It's called the Pain Portal. There are only five in existence. Two are in Europe. One is at a friend of mine in Tokyo. The other is in Redmond, Washington," said Portia.

"Why in Redmond?" I asked.

"It was designed by one of the founders of the Microsoft Corporation. He became a billionaire and retired to his native Russia. His hobby was BDSM. He decided that the practice of torture was light years behind in the application of computer technology and decided to create the ultimate in machine-managed agony. It would be system controlled, highly efficient, and exploit modern medicine's knowledge about the nature of pain and how best to induce it. He spent seven years and fifty million of his personal fortune to develop what you are looking at."

"How does it work?" asked Colette as she ran her hands over the equipment like it was a big cock that she hoped to get inside her.

"You place the submissive in the Frame, select a program, and the computer controls everything else. There are interface points allowing for human intervention. The Frame travels along the oval monorail from torture station to station. Each station has a particular set of implements of torture. For example, one of the stations you will program Rozz to visit is dedicated to Breast Torture. There's an interactive whipping station that resembles a video game. We can play that together if you like."

"Are all the bugs worked out?" I asked.

"We are running Version 3.43 of the software which is regarded as near bug free. Test subjects were badly injured in the days of the alpha and beta prototypes but it hasn't killed anyone since Version 3.0 was installed," said Lars.

"That's comforting," I said like a smart ass.

"Silence slut," screamed Colette slapping me so hard I started to cry. An even harder slap and a kick followed that. The top of Colette's foot landed between my legs smashing my clit against my pubic bone. I wound up rolling on the tile floor holding my throbbing pussy with both hands as I begged Colette not to hurt me anymore. From the look on her face I could tell she enjoyed slapping and kicking me.

"Let's get smart mouth into the Frame before you beat her to death," said Portia.

I felt Lars and Rory lifting me to my feet. The Frame turned out to be the modern day equivalent of the medieval rack except that it was a thousand times more versatile and could move to each station.

I'd done a stretch on a traditional rack. The rack was the staple instrument of persuasion in medieval times. Every well-equipped dungeon had its own rack. Few criminals failed to confess after a brief period of having their limbs stretched. A prolonged session would leave the individual crippled for life or dead.

The General had an exact replica of one found in a famous French chateau. I'd let Trace rack me one afternoon on a lark. It was a lark that kept me screaming for two hours. Trace cranked me to where I felt like an over stressed rubber band then proceeded to whip my breasts, drop hot wax on sensitive places like my armpits and pussy then piss in my mouth. He also whipped the soles of my feet. I couldn't walk for two days.

Still, the General's rack stretched your arms on one direction and your legs in the other. The placement of wooden block in the center of your back added to the agony. But the medieval rack was pretty one-dimensional.

In contrast, the software driven Frame could fold and stretch you in countless ways. An MIT professor with a doctorate in mechanical engineering had designed the mesh of titanium tubing, sensors, and servomotors that made the Frame the most hellish instrument of torture I had encountered to this point.

Flexibility was the key to the Frame's design. Computer controlled servo motors would stretch your limbs, bend your spine back and forth, and place you in agonizing positions that emulated classical bondage. Almost every joint including your fingers and toes could be flexed into painful postures that made you despise your own body. I can't recall everything that the Frame did to me. I know that Colette selected a DVD titled, "Agony 6" and inserted it into the DVD reader.

"Agony 6 is the most painful program we have developed to date," said Lars.

"My crazy sister and some of her disgusting friends were here last month. Charlize had always been a showoff. She decided to show her friends the Pain Portal using herself as a subject. She thought that by taking a handful of Vicodin and Darvocet she could get through it. She ordered poor Lars to process her with the Agony 6 DVD. Her friends threatened him with a pistol if he didn't cooperate. Unfortunately I was away in Madagascar looking at a slave that had come on the market. Charlize is now in a private sanitarium recovering," said Portia.

"Her mind snapped?" asked Colette.

"Yes, I am afraid so. We'll just have to hope that Rozz is made of sterner stuff," said Portia.

It took only a few seconds to place me in the Frame. Self-adjusting collars closed around my ankles, wrists, waist, and forehead. My fingers and toes were splayed wide so each digit could be addressed singularly. I recall a Master Torturer once telling me that a good tormentor never neglects the hands and feet.

"Your audience needs to hear you scream. And we need to talk to you," said Lars fitting me with a headset. A tiny receiver was placed in my ear. I got to listen to the pitter-patter between Portia and Colette as they sat in the Control Room and worked on me.

Karen told me later that my performance in the Pain Portal was so riveting that people stopped fucking to watch the monitor. The software driving the 144-inch monitor supported multiple screen division. For example if a specific body part of mine was being tortured, the screen could show close-ups of my face as I shrieked my lungs out, the body part accepting the pain, something unusual such as a muscle group being contorted by the agony and a complete image. It frequently showed Colette grinning from ear to ear as she enjoyed my pitiful suffering.

"I'm quite proud of the way the system deals with the visual aspects," said Portia. "I was the one who convinced the developer that he was neglecting the entertainment aspects of his creation. The HDTV monitor and special software to drive it were my idea. Men don't think of things like visualization but what's the point of subjecting someone to unendurable agony if others can't enjoy it with you."

"We'll begin by demonstrating the capabilities of the Frame," said Lars. "It alone is a wonderful torture device as I'm sure you will agree."

Over the next few minutes the Frame bent and folded me in dozens of positions that were exceedingly painful. I thought my spine would snap when they bent me forward to where I could kiss my own shinbone then backward where my back looked like the letter C. It repeated that sequence a dozen times. Each time the Frame took me a little further.

"Rozz, this is all computer controlled. You don't look comfortable," said Colette. "We are sitting here drinking some excellent French champagne watching you suffer."

And suffer I did. Next the Frame twisted me like a corkscrew, upper body in one direction and lower in the other. I went all the way to the right then back to the left. Each time turning a little further in each direction. It spread my legs into a split that would do the most whippy high school cheerleader proud. It was a yoga nightmare.

It worked every part of my body. I heard my toes crack as they were flexed further than they had ever been.

"I bet you wouldn't think this would be possible," said Lars before the Frame did the next posture.

My legs were lifted toward my body as it folded me like a sheet of paper. My calves were on each side of my face and my feet were on my shoulder tops.

"Perfect position for a butt fucking, wouldn't you agree, Rozz," said Colette.

I was too busy trying to deal with the pain to agree or not. Portia later told me that during the development and testing of the system they had several unfortunate accidents where the Frame accidentally dismembered somebody.

"Popped her arms right off," was how Portia expressed it. Apparently, one other reason that Russia was chosen as a test sight was the ready availability of young girls and men who were willing to take such risks for a few kopeks. It was also a place where fatal mistakes could be easily concealed with the payment of bribes to the local authorities. By any stretch of the imagination, the Frame was a unique experience and remarkably efficient. It would have taken a full day for a team of Japanese rope bondage practitioners to achieve what the Frame did in a matter of minutes. When the Frame was done with me, I hurt in every joint of my body. It was a chiropractic nightmare.

Pre-op was the name of the first station. The Frame glided noiselessly down the monorail to a complicated-looking collection of tubes and nozzles. Once there, the Frame rotated me into an upside down position with my legs slightly bent forward. Pre-op meant enema to me and I wasn't disappointed.

I felt something slick being guided toward my butthole. Everything was done from the Control Room with robotics. Cameras provided close-up views of my asshole as the technicians began the process. Something well lubricated probed until it located the center of my brown eye then slipped past my O-ring. I was paying attention to what was happening at my anus so I was startled to hear the next command.

"Open wide," said Lars.

There was a nozzle at the end of a clear plastic tube poised at my mouth.

"No, what's it for?" I asked.

At that moment I felt an electric shock on my lips that hurt like all hell. When I opened my mouth to scream, the rubble nozzle slipped inside my mouth and down my throat. If you didn't want to open your mouth they had ways to make you open it.

Karen later informed me that the devices that invaded my orifices had a tiny television camera and light source included. At that moment, the guests were looking at the inside of my rectum and esophagus.

"Ever eaten your own shit?" asked Colette.

I shook my head No. I'd drunk gallons of urine including my own. I had in the course of rimming more than my share of the human race tasted shit but I wasn't in to scat per se. I'd watched players in S&M clubs woofing down each other's turds but I didn't join in.

"Only dogs eat their own shit," said Colette. "So you must be a dog because we are going to fill your belly with the contents of your bowels."

"I can't think of anything more humiliating than being forced to eat your own excrement. Can you Rozz?" said Portia. "It brings you down to the level of lower species."

The tubes inside me began to travel inward. One moved up my bowels looping around inside my large intestines. The other passed down my esophagus through my lower esophageal valve into my stomach. As a nurse, I'd pumped a few stomachs out and given my share of enemas. I knew how those things worked.

No, I could not think of anything more humiliating than eating my own shit. It wasn't long before I felt the rush of warm water into my bowels followed by the feeling of that same water being sucked out. When I looked to my right, I could see that a clear plastic jar was filling up with a brownish substance. They were giving me a high colonic enema filling me with water then sucking all the shit out of my intestines with an evacuation tube. That was when I realized that the jar had a tube out the bottom leading through some other equipment and ultimately to my esophagus. They were removing most of the water leaving a slurry of brown dodo to pump inside me.

I heard some electro-mechanical noises felt the tube in my esophagus jerk slightly. That was followed by the sensation of something very foul entering my stomach. They were feeding me my own feces. The Pain Portal was removing the feces from my intestines and re-cycling it down my gullet. Now that is truly nasty.

I felt my stomach growing tighter. It was already filled with the butt shake I had consumed.

"You look five month's pregnant," said Colette.

"I'd hate to see any baby that produces," laughed Portia.

"The good part is that you are going to be able to taste your own shit for the rest of your time here," said Colette giggling like some mad scientist.

My stomach felt like I had just finished an incredible Thanksgiving dinner. I was stuffed to the gills. I knew what Colette meant because when the tubes were removed, I belched heavily and tasted the product of my bowels. I kept that up through the remainder of my time spent in the Frame. The taste of shit never left my mouth. I also had a serious case of bad breath.

Chapter 26 – High Tech Torture 2

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

The Frame quickly and efficiently moved the shit stuffed me to the next station. I would have killed for some Listerine. My stomach felt like an over inflated balloon but instead of air it was packed with my feces. I kept belching up horrible tasting stuff that I had to re-swallow.

"Your beautiful breasts may never recover from this next phase. Such a shame," said Portia. "But beauty doesn't last forever."

"Men will lose their erection when you take off your blouse, Rozz. They will look at what's left of your tits and decide to stick their cocks elsewhere," laughed Colette.

"Hey, I didn't sign on to be mutilated, " I cried. I have very nice 36C knockers that love to be sucked and were attractive to my sexual partners. I'm extremely proud of them. I didn't want to become a freak. This was getting out of hand.

I was terrified as I moved toward a complicated appearing machine whose salient feature was a collection of clear plastic tubes. Once in place the Control Room staff guided the plexi-glass tubes over the end of my breasts. A short burst of suction drew the end of my tits into the tubes. Some sort of gel had been placed over the beveled edges of the tubes to insure an airtight connection. It was a more complicated arrangement than I had seen in other dungeons where suction was used for tit torture. It was then that I saw the kicker.

There was a smaller vertical tube intersecting the larger horizontal tube that was fitted around my knockers. When I looked up I saw there was a two inch steel ball poised at the top of the vertical tube. I quickly got the idea. Suck my nipples out as far as they would reach then drop the ball on the elongated nipple. I squirmed at the very thought of how it would feel when that ball landed.

"Sorry, I forgot to turn on your monitor,' said Lars as a flat panel screen in the rear of the station jumped to life. There I was on the screen looking pathetic, nauseated, and scared shitless. The Pain Portal would allow me to watch myself as I suffered. My face was a mask of fear and terror as the tit torture commenced.

I'd been subjected to rudimentary suction torture before. It hurts like hell. The last time had been several years ago. A domme used a hand-cranked vacuum pump to suck my tit deep into a tube. I recall it as a moment of sheer agony as I watched my flesh being distorted. My veins became visible and ugly. When he released the vacuum, my boob looked like a soup can. His assistant handed him a bees-wax candle and he dropped wax on my misshapen knocker while I screamed and cursed.

The Pain Portal went into action. To make it interesting to them and to maximize my torture, they did one breast at a time. I heard the whirr of a vacuum motor and the hiss of escaping air. I watched as my right breast began to slowly and painfully proceed down the length of the tube. The tube was narrower than my breast and it would have been fascinating to watch my breast adapt itself to the smaller volume but I was too busy screaming in pain. My nipple got long too, longer than it had ever been.

I recall learning somewhere in Physics Class that, "nature abhors a vacuum." When I stopped screaming to gain enough breath for another scream, I could hear the relentless whir of the pump extracting air from the tube. My breast was totally misshapen and my nipple was a good two inches long. The vertical tube was directly over my nipple. The system stopped so my torturers could throw in a few taunts.

"The little metal ball will crush your nipple. Will it not?" It was Colette's voice in my ear. She had a great smirk in her voice that conveyed what a terrific time she was having torturing me.

"Yes, please don't drop it. I can't stand any more pain," I whimpered.

"If you had swallowed my butt shake a few seconds faster, you would be here preparing to smash my nipple," said Colette teasingly.

"Yes," I answered. She had me there. I'd be wetting myself contemplating how it would look and feel when that ball smashed Colette's nipple. I'd be staring in her pain-riveted face attempting to connect to the misery I was causing her.

"I will show you the same mercy that you would have shown me," said Colette.

"Oh God, please don't," I begged.

"On the count of three," said Colette.

Colette counted in French then released the ball. The ball weighed maybe a half-kilogram. It was approximately three feet over my left tit when Colette placed the mouse cursor over the Release button and clicked it. My eyes watched in horror as it fell. It flattened the vacuum-extended nipple, bounced up, and fell three more times before it came to rest. Drops of my blood splattered the inside of the Plexiglas. The end of my left breast looked like a semi-trailer had run over it. I spent the next two minutes announcing my agony. Then I heard and felt the system go to work on my left breast.

I'd never seen myself scream in quite the way as I did then. I stared at myself in the monitor. The veins in my forehead and temples were visible. The tendons and muscles in my neck looked stretched to the point of rupture. I didn't want to look at myself but I couldn't tear my eyes away as I watched myself shriek my agony.

"Portia, this is fabulous," whispered Colette. "Did you see how Rozz reacted?"

"Yes, it is incredible how modern technology has enhanced our lives and increased the enjoyment of the simple things like crushing a slave's nipple," said Portia. "We're capturing all this on digital video by the way. If you provide an email address, we'll send you a copy."

Outside Karen and the other guests were giving the monitor their rapt attention. "We were too fascinated to fuck," said Karen. "We masturbated while we watched you suffer. There wasn't a woman there who did not grab her own tit in sympathy when that ball fell. It must have been beyond unbearable."

Colette teased me once more.

"If I didn't drop it, would you suck the shit out of my French ass for a month, be my toilet slave?" asked Colette.

"Yes, anything," I responded. My eyes were fixed on the ball poised over my left tit. My nipple was at least two inches long. My boob reminded me of a tall can of beer.

"Sorry, but you have already done that," said Colette releasing the ball.

After three more repetitions on each breast, I'd lost all feeling in my nipples. They were flat as a ribbon and bleeding. Everything stopped for a moment.

"Are you ready for some more fun, Rozz?" asked Colette.

"No more, that was enough," I said wondering if my breasts would ever return to their original shape.

"Too bad, we're not done with you,' said Colette.

"You've ruined them," I whimpered. They were still the shape of beer cans with a long bloody ribbon of a nipple dangling off the end.

"Perhaps, but I don't think so. However, if they are I know a man in Paris who loves disfigured breasts. He seeks out females who have a mastectomy and seduces them. I will give you his email address," said Colette. "Henri likes to begin by rubbing his cock over the scar tissue to get it hard then he sucks on the remaining flesh while he fucks their pussy."

That did sounds hot and like something I would like to see but not participate in. At that moment I looked down to see that the tubes were being used to stretch my breasts away from my chest. A complicated looking device surrounded the base of each boob. Servomotors whirred and something began to constrict at the very base of my tits. I could feel it pressing hard against my breastbone. In a matter of seconds, each tit was bound tightly and beginning to turn purple. They looked like those balloons clowns use to entertain children at birthday parties. The glass tubes released me leaving two almost purple cylinders laced with visible veins and flat ribbon nipples seeping blood onto the while tile floor.

That was when I saw the two rings of hypodermic syringes sliding out from the apparatus to encircle my breasts.

"Synthetic African bee venom in a concentrated solution," whispered Portia in my ear. "Pain beyond anything you thought possible."

There were four syringes for each breasts arranged equidistant around the circle. The gage of the needle was the type you ordinarily use for a spinal tap. Don't these people know anything I asked myself? First you use a small gage needle to give a local anesthetic then you stick the big needle in. My bound breasts were swelling, getting bigger, uglier and more discolored by the moment.

The syringe apparatus was positioned at the middle of my elongated boobs. Once again it was one breast at a time. I watched the needles push inward toward my flesh. I was screaming for them to stop. The tips of the four heavy gage needles approached the surface of my flesh. They moved to the point where they depressed but did not puncture the flesh.

"What you wouldn't give for this to be me and not you," said Colette.

I would have given my soul but there were no takers.

"First I will command the needles to sink deep into the sensitive nerve ganglia at the center of your breast," said Colette.

The four needles punctured my breast then moved inward a good two inches. More than once, I'd allowed a dominant to slip the thinnest of needles into my tits but this was different. It felt like four meat skewers were being hammered inside my body. The pain was more than I could bear. I fainted. Moments later I was awaken by the smell of ammonium nitrate.

"We wouldn't want you to miss the most exciting part," laughed Colette.

The Pain Portal was equipped with the facility to awaken victims if they fainted from the agony of their ordeal.

"Now for your injection," said Portia. "This is going to sting."

I was the one in the monitor screaming, as the plungers on the syringes were automatically depressed. It took only a few seconds for the bee venom to work its magic. I screamed for a period, fainted, and was revived to scream again.

Portia had been right. It was pain on a level that the only thing I could compare it to is bone scraping. I'd never had a bone scraped but I had seen it done on occasion. The pain was so intense that the victim could not maintain a conscious state unless chemically stimulated to do so.

"Kill me," I whimpered when I saw they were preparing to inject my other breast.

"And let you miss all the fun, never," said Colette.

I had little recollection of being released from the breast torture station and moving to the next one. They gave me a drink of cool water and another whiff of ammonium nitrate before I moved on.

My breasts were two burning orbs that I half expected to explode into flame. They looked pathetic. My nipples were flat bloody ribbons. The venom caused the flesh to quiver uncontrollably and the tissue had started to swell. Portia's machine had pushed me far beyond my edge.

***

"The next station is great fun. Two or more can play," said Portia once the Frame had moved me to the next stop in this circuit of demonic agony. My tits were still burning from the venom and the swelling had continued. They were becoming huge. I kept belching up my own shit.

"What's it called?" asked Colette.

I got to listen to Colette explaining the game to Colette.

"Laser whip," explained Portia. "It's very similar to an arcade game. What we do with this interactive monitor here in the Control Room happens to Rozz in reality. The Frame rapidly passes Rozz through a series of turns and passes. When it stops, a red circle appears on the monitor. The first one of us to accurately aim and fire their laser gun gets points. At the same time, the station will simulate the landing of a whip on Rozz's body. Allow me to demonstrate."

"Colette, see that red circle on the top of Rozz's left tit. Rozz you should be able to see it to if you look in your monitor," said Portia.

"Yes, I see it. It is on the screen here and on Rozz's poor little tortured titty. Such a pity you had such beautiful breasts and now they will cause your lovers to lose their lunch," said Colette taunting me once more.

By forcing my head downward, I could see a two inch red circle at the top of a very bruised and throbbing breast. I could also see what was left of my nipple. Thankfully it had begun to recover some of its original shape.

"Rozz we have a simulated image of you here on a special game monitor in the Control Room. Now see what happens when I point my laser gun and pull the trigger," said Portia.

I heard a loud crack and my tit burst into pain. It felt like the time I was at the Hellfire Club and one of the Whip Masters landed the metal tipped end of a fifteen-foot bullwhip on my boob. It hurt so bad it was hard to catch my breath and scream. I'd read or heard somewhere that laser whips were being developed. The laser would simulate an actual whip with better control and accuracy. I'd never seen one but I had heard there was one at a club in Montreal.

"Ready," asked Portia?

"Ready," replied Colette.

From the soles of my feet to my ear lobes I was whipped. Even the surface between my fingers and toes felt the sting of the laser. My clit had gone numb with pain, as had my labia and the sensitive flesh surrounding the opening to my vagina. For the first time in my life, a whip landed right on my asshole. When I passed out I was revived. My mouth kept filling with shit that escaped my stomach.

It was the most complete and thorough scourging that could be conceived of. My monitor showed Portia and Colette's score as they aimed and fired at me. Portia won but only by a small margin. I was incoherent by the end of the game, a mere babbling clump of screaming flesh in so much pain that my brain could not begin to process it.

Chapter 27 – High Tech Torture 3

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

"Rozz, this station is called Robofuck. It is still experimental but we think we're close to perfecting it," said Portia.

My pain filled body had reached the final station. I'd regurgitated a mouthful of shit and there was a brown streak running out the side of my mouth down on to my mangled tatas. I was practically catatonic over what they had done to my breasts. They were hideous. Combine that with the fact that the Laser Whip had covered me with pulsating red stripes some of which were oozing drops of blood and I would have to conclude I was in pretty bad shape. Did I mention that the Laser Whip's favorite targets were between my legs? I was numb from my clit to my asshole. I wasn't sure I still had a clitoris or if I did it would ever work again.

"The Robofuck is not finished," questioned Colette.

"It's almost done. We're still tweaking it. It is on the cutting edge of what we know about the nature of pain and pleasure. You've heard the phrase it hurts so good?" asked Portia.

"Yes, it is like when my girlfriend sticks her fist in my pussy," said Colette.

I found myself agreeing with Colette's analogy. When your girl friend manages to finally slip her entire hand in your vagina and she makes a fist and moves it up and down your insides it does hurt but it also feels good.

The Frame rotated and I was upside down. I felt something probing for my asshole. Before very long its search was successful and something quite large entered my anus. I felt something expand just inside my rectum to form a seal.

"A column of air will butt fuck Rozz," said Portia.

"Air, just air," said Colette.

"Robofuck will use hot air to inflate her rectum and intestines then deflate them in a matter to seconds. Rozz will blow up like a balloon first. Then the system evacuates the air and her guts contract. I assure you it is far more painful than any other form of anal intercourse. Give Colette a demonstration, Lars."

Two seconds later my guts filled up like a sausage casing then collapsed painfully inward.

"Oh for the love of Jesus don't do that to me again," I begged when the pain reached the point that I was no longer screaming. The force of the air had slammed my abdomen outward and put enough pressure on my stomach to force me to regurgitate another mouthful of my own shit. Given that I was upside down, I opened my yap and let my crap splatter on the floor.

Another probe was guided into my vagina and it was more than a glorified air pump. It was a big fat imitation dick. The system slowly and inexorably forced this very long and wide dildo into my vagina. At the base of the dildo was some sort of hydraulic piston.

"The mechanical cock had tiny air holes that create a light suction as the dildo is withdrawn. It will pull the walls of Rozz's vagina inward creating these incredible sensations. I've actually tried that and it is the most thorough pussy reaming a woman can imagine," said Portia.

"I hope it turns her cunt inside out," commented Colette.

The final component of the Robofuck was some sort of device that fitted over my clit. It formed an airtight seal around my clitoris then sucked my love button into a latex lined sleeve.

"For Rozz's love button, we apply a low level electrical shock. The voltage is exactly the same as that used by the body's central nervous system to signal that a female orgasm is taking place. As a result Rozz will experience a non-stop orgasm that will slowly change from extreme pleasure to unbearable pain," said Portia.

"We've had some trouble getting this part adjusted properly. Some women climax to the point of seizure and experience a stroke," added Lars.

"Still outside of a lifetime of yoga it is the most profound mind body connection possible," said Portia.

"It would be nice if the bitch were a vegetable when we were done. I could take her back to Paris with me. She could become my toilet slave," said Colette.

"Our Rozz is a tough one. She'll survive,' said Rory.

"Lars, Is the latest release of male pheromone ready?" asked Portia.

"Yes, and since Rozz is connected to Robofuck in all the right places, I'll release Version 4.7," said Lars.

"What does this pheromone do?" asked Colette.

"Our pheromone is a synthetic developed at a laboratory in Japan. Basically it is an aromatic stimulant that will vastly increase Rozz's desire for sex. A few whiffs and she will be insatiable. Her sex drive will take over her being and she will act like a woman possessed of an uncontrollable urge to fuck.

I'd heard that several laboratories were experimenting with pheromones and pheromone-like substances to correct female frigidity and enhance the female desire for sex. My nose picked up a sweet smell that was originating from a plastic tube that Robofuck had inserted just inside the opening to my nostril. In spite of my overall pain and exhaustion, I felt a stirring in my groin. The pheromone had begun to kick in almost immediately.

"One final thing, Rozz, this is your brain wave pattern when you arrived at Robofuck. We'll put this at the very bottom of the monitor for comparison purposes. This is your current pattern. It will display at the top. As you can see, your brain activity has already begun to elevate. Watch and see how Robofuck affects your mind," said Portia.

As an OR nurse, I know something about brain waves. There's nothing more depressing than watching the wave pattern slowly flatten on a young soldier we're trying to put back together. My current pattern did have much higher peaks and valleys than when we started. If those peaks and valleys got too high I would have a stroke or possibly flat line. This was my first life or death fuck. God there was an itch between my legs. The pheromone was working. I needed to be fucked.

"Let's get started," I yelled anxious to ride that faux cock.

Robofuck came to life and it was truly awesome. For the next twenty minutes I was fucked to the edge of madness. My stomach would expand like I was five months pregnant then contract in a blur. The dildo would force itself into my uterus then apply suction as it withdrew. I expected my insides to come out any moment.

It was heaven and it was hell. I screamed for the dildo and air pump to fuck me then screamed again from the pain of their doing what I begged for. I could feel a solid electrical current traversing my body from my clit to my cerebral cortex. That was the oddest and most terrifying sensation. Imagine that your clitoris has a dedicated communication line to your brain and it never shuts up. It screamed the word 'orgasm' over and over again in one continuous wail.

Still I needed it. The pheromone had a striking effect on me.

"Faster and harder," I screamed.

"Shall I increase the performance," Lars asked Portia.

"Give her everything that Robofuck is capable of. It will either kill her or make her the greatest fuck that ever lived. As Nietzsche said, 'that which does not kill me, makes me stronger,'" said Portia.

I regurgitated more shit to adding to my nightmare as Robofuck reached its maximum. I reached mine also. Karen later told me it was sort of God like watching me on the monitor.

"I was truly touched. You are an exceptional human being, Rozz," said Karen when we were driving back to the Four Seasons.

"Woman against machine and woman held her own. They'll talk about you for months no years to come," added Gordon.

My twenty minutes over Robofuck halted. I wasn't sure I had orgasmed one or an infinite number of times. The devices released me and I was able to breathe normally again.

"Portia said I could have some souvenirs," said Colette who had appeared in front of me.

I was still in the Frame. Having completed my circuit of the oval track I was back to where I started.

"What kind of souvenirs?" I asked wearily.

"She said I could have two fingernails and two toe nails. I collect them you know," said Colette opening a small zippered valise to reveal several sizes of needle nose pliers. That seemed like a stupid statement. How the hell was I to know that Colette collected finger and toenails?

"You're insane. You can't do that to me. It'll take days for me to heal as it is," I cried. "Portia, don't let her do this to me."

"Oh, quit being such a baby. They'll grow back," said Portia from the Control Room.

"You know something, Rozz," said Colette as she knelt down at my feet.

"What Colette? Please don't disfigure my hands and feet." I begged.

"Portia's machine is totally awesome but it lacks the human touch. I find it too remote and impersonal. You don't get to feel the slave's breath when they scream. You don't have the pleasure of running your hands over them and feeling their terror and sweat. Do you agree?"

"I agree but don't do this to me. I can't take it," I said.

"Oh, you are going to surprise yourself," said Colette as she slipped the sharpened tip of the pliers under my second toe. "I'm going to pull it off very slowly, enjoy."

Colette pressed the handles together and beginning to extract my fingernail. I wanted to pass out but couldn't. My agony was so great that I would have tried to bash my brains against the rack but my head was restrained and I could barely move my skull a half-inch.

It was one long continuous wail of agony as millimeter by millimeter the base of my toenail was yanked free of the surrounding flesh.

My throat was two raw to scream. I made sounds that were not quite screams as Colette drove the point to the very base of the nail then closed the handle tight and pulled. I read that the Gestapo during World War II practiced extraction of finger and toenails. The flesh under the nail is reputed to be some of the most sensitive in the entire human body. All I can say is that it hurt like all hell as Colette pulled the nails off my second toes and my ring fingers. She held the bloody results up for me to see before she deposited them in a tiny Ziploc bag. I wonder how she displays her collection and to whom.

Colette took only two toes and two fingers. Portia had limited her to that. Left to her own devices, she would have gone for the complete set. Still, she wasn't quite done with me. The moment that Lars and Rory finished taking me out of the Frame, Colette stepped forward and landed her balled up first in my shit packed abdomen. I grabbed my stomach as I fell to the floor. A lack of breath and overwhelming nausea produced the expected result. My belly began to empty. Colette grabbed my hair and dragged me by it to the grate in the center of the tile floor. I lay there covered in my puke and shit spewing for God knows how long. I kept heaving and heaving until at last I was empty. Someone turned a pressure hose on and washed me off. Finally I was pulled to my feet, dressed in a robe and placed in a wheelchair which was a good thing because I couldn't walk.

It was the first time I had been removed from a dungeon in a wheelchair. That was how bad I was hurting. The laser whip had rendered the bottoms of my feet unusable. I could barely think or talk. From somewhere I recall there was supposed to be some kind of finale. I didn't think I could take anymore. Right before I left, Lars had given me a shot of Demerol to deaden the pain.

The guests applauded us as we reached poolside.

"You were magnificent. If that was me, I would be dead or in the loony bin," said Karen rushing up to me.

"I may get there yet," was my reply. There wasn't a part of my body that didn't hurt even with the Demerol kicking in. I've been through some S&M sessions others would consider way over the top but what Portia and her Pain Portal did exceeded anything I had experienced to date.

Portia and Colette wheeled me up to the bandstand where Portia took the bandleaders microphone and made an announcement.

"Let's give Colette and Rozz a hand for providing us with some wonderful entertainment."

Everyone clapped. That was nice of them. Portia continued.

"The night is still young and if any of you ladies like to go for a spin through Portia's Pain Portal, Lars will be more than happy to take care of you."

That produced a nervous titter through the crowd. After what they had witnessed on the outdoor monitor I couldn't imagine anyone eagerly shouting, "I want to go next". But I was surprised.

"My wife will give it a try," said a short chubby little man. His wife was a stunning oriental beauty, years younger than him and a head taller. She had the thin lithe like body of a super model. She had the incredible cheekbones found in Northern China where you find women that are a mixture of White Russian and Han Chinese. Some say they are the most gorgeous women on the planet. All I can say is that she was incredibly beautiful with a figure that complemented her face.

"No Sergei, I won't" said the girl. I later learned he was one of those sleazy Russian billionaires who had bribed his way to ownership of several large state industries that had been sold for a tiny fraction of her worth.

"You will do as I say, Pearl," said Sergei slapping her hard enough to split her lips with the oversized diamond rings on his fingers. Drops of blood instantly appeared on her white silk blouse. She looked so hot standing there crying and bleeding. I wanted to be the one to take her back to Lars and torture her. She had beautiful long nails and I pictured how it would hurt to pull them out one by one. Sergei spoke in Russian to the muscular thug who accompanied them. I'd assumed he was Sergei's bodyguard. Portia's friends were not all nice people like Karen. Gordon, and myself. The bodyguard scooped Pearl up and threw her over his shoulder like she was a sack of flower and headed toward the dungeon with Sergei trailing behind. Her shrieks filled the night air. In spite of all I had been through, I began to stir a little. My hostess certainly knew how to keep a party going. Portia was not quite done.

"I told you earlier that I had a finale for the loser. What we did with the Pain Portal was high tech. Now we are going low tech. Its something you normally see in Mexico, Tijuana in particular that I have imported to the garden isle of Nevis for all our enjoyment. I give you Prospero," said Portia standing aside as a servant lead a pure white donkey out from behind a curtain.

Oh my God, the thought that I was going to be donkey fucked leapt into my mind. Colette looked over at me with a smile on her face. A quick glance at the undercarriage of Prospero and I was wondering how anything that large could possibly fit in my little pussy.

"And the big surprise is that Colette will be taking Rozz's place as Prospero's lover," said Portia.

Colette got a no fucking way look on her face. Her S&M union card stated she was a sadist not a masochist

"I am not fucking that filthy animal," said Colette defiantly.

At that moment, the big screen flickered then the image of the Asian girl's terrified face appeared. She was in the Frame totally naked. She did had an incredible perfect figure. Pearl was in the first station having her shit moved from her large intestine to her belly. There were clear plastic tubes in her mouth and ass. It was fascinating to watch the brown sludge exit her butt travel through the plumbing and pass down her esophagus. A quarter of the screen was devoted to Sergei watching his wife being punished. He was seated in a recliner, pants at shoe level. The massively muscled bodyguard was kneeling between his legs sucking his cock.

"Sorry Colette, you played the game so you have to abide by my rules. Get Colette ready, Samuel," said Portia. Two of Portia's servants stepped forward and took hold of Colette. They drug her screaming over to something that resembled a modified hospital gurney. They fastened restraints around her hands, head, and waist. She wasn't going anywhere. She was screaming and cursing in French. Samuel took a utility knife out of its sheath and cut Colette's clothes off. His buddy produced an economy-sized tube of lubricant and began applying it to Colette's pussy.

Apparently fucking outside the species was beyond her limits. She certainly could scream. On the other hand, my attention was divided as the monitor was showing the Asian girl's sculptured abdomen slowly swelling with her own shit. That made me wonder medically speaking how the gastro-intestinal tract reacts to twice eaten shit. In the psyche ward at the hospital we had a Lance Corporal who had a battle stress breakdown. He became so terrified of combat that he went insane and started to eat his own shit. The hospital's shrink, Doctor Blevins, felt he was faking insanity but in my opinion anyone willing to eat his turds for breakfast should be sent home. Nobody would want him around anyway. Pearl might be skinny as a runway model but she still had fourteen feet of large intestine like the rest of us. Her belly was bulging out. She definitely did not look like she was enjoying the experience. Thank God Karen had handed me a bottle of water and for the first time in over an hour, my mouth was not full of my own shit.

Samuel must have been through this before because he was able to correctly adjust the height of the gurney on the first try. Colette's cunt was lined up with Prospero's cock. There's no point in saying the donkey had a huge cock. Maybe compared to other donkey's he was on the small side. But compared to what we girls are ordinarily expected to stuff in our cunt, it was dangerously large. I recalled the old myth that Catherine the Great of Russia real cause of death was that a stallion she was attempting to fuck fell on her. I suppose she wasn't called, Catherine the Great, for nothing. I certainly didn't want something the size of Prospero's dick in my vagina.

"Would one of you ladies like to prep Prospero?" Portia asked the audience.

"I'll help," said Karen stepping forward. "What do I have to do?"

"He usually responds to a hand job and blow job combination," said Portia.

"Let me up. I am not going to screw that filthy animal," screamed Colette.

"Oh yes, you are, Colette," said Portia.

"I'll help you," said another woman stepping forward and kneeling down on the other side of Prospero.

They'd wheeled me close to Prospero. I could hear the lady explain how she had been raised in Mexico and that she had watched and participated in donkey fucking before. It's amazing what people can get into.

Karen and the woman were kneeling on both sides of the animal stroking his penis that was growing longer by the minute. Colette was absolutely wild eyed. I would have thought there wasn't a perversion or fetish that the French tart hadn't tried or was willing to try but I would have been wrong. Screwing that donkey violated her limits in some profound horrifying fashion. Maybe she watched her beloved mother get donkey raped when she was a little girl and it left her psychologically scarred. Not that I gave a shit why she was pitching such a bitch. I watched Karen put her mouth on the end of that weird looking cock and give it head. That certainly looked interesting. If I had not been so fucked up I would have been down there helping Karen.

Prospero's cock grew enormous as Karen sucked on the head and the other lady stroked the shaft.

"Prospero's ready," said Samuel sliding Colette on her gurney under the animal. "Please keep sucking him until we place Colette in the proper position.

It took four people and a lot of pushing and shoving to bury eighteen inches of donkey dick in our little Parisian. Karen and the other woman stayed on their knees guiding Prospero's member to Colette's entrance. Once they had the head wedged in her well lubricated hole, Samuel and his helper pulled Colette's legs toward the animal's back They would give a tug, another inch of cock would slide inside as Colette screamed her lungs out.

Once Colette's butt was nestled against Prospero's balls, Karen and her assistant stood aside for the crowd to watch. A donkey's cock gets considerable thicker at its base.

"Awesome, isn't it?" commented Karen standing beside me watching Colette's pussy bleed around Prospero's cock.

"I've never seen a woman take it all before,' said Gordon who it turned out had once managed a large hotel in Mexico City and was something of an aficionado of donkey and dog fucking.

Samuel and his assistant used Colette's legs as handles to pull and push her up and down the length of the cock. A few of these man made strokes and Prospero began to get the idea. He slowly began to do his own screwing. The two men held Colette's feet as Prospero got his donkey brain into it. Prospero started to brae loudly as he fucked Colette who was screaming her lungs out. Her cunt was a bloody mess. I found nothing wrong with that especially when I looked down at my hands and saw the band aids that Lars had used to cover my missing nails.

Prospero began to arch his back and slam his cock into Colette. Samuel and his buddy were having trouble holding on to Colette's feet. Prospero lasted for a good five minutes. Loud braes accompanied his final strokes. Colette never stopped screaming until right at the end when Prospero in one final brutal lunge blew his load.

On the monitor, the Pain Portal was injecting synthetic bee venom into the base of Pearl's breasts. The metal balls had pulverized her nipples and areola. She looked like she had stuck her boobs in a blender.

Prospero's climax was good for him but not so good for Colette. She passed out and missed the moment when Prospero's cock exited her cunt allowing a generous flow of blood and semen to drip out of a very open vagina. There was lots of applause as the crowd saluted Prospero before Samuel handed him a carrot then lead him back to the stable.

Several of the guests rushed up to take pictures of Colette's destroyed cunt. But Pearls' loud bee driven screams distracted the crowd and they slowly drifted away leaving me there with Colette.

Donkey fuck show over everyone went back to fucking or sucking whatever piece of flesh was nearest as they watched Pearl's tits being ruined. I was left to my own devices. Colette's donkey fuck had left her passed out and oozing blood and semen from her wide-open French twat. She was lying there on the gurney unattended. Occasionally she moaned or muttered something in French. Prospero had done a number on her. I was enjoying listening to her suffer when I saw on a nearby table the small alligator hide valise that contained the needle nose pliers she'd used to pull my nails off. I noticed it had the Louis Vuitton logo. That gave me an idea.

The Demerol had suppressed just enough pain to allow me to slowly get out of the wheelchair. I shuffled over to the table on my very painful feet and unzipped the valise. There were the pliers and a several other evil looking instruments of torture. The bitch had ground down the tips of the pliers to where they were sharp as a razor. That allowed then to easily slip under the nail and travel down to the base.

"Satan give me strength," I whispered to myself as I looked around for something to gag Colette with. I didn't exactly have Portia's permission to mutilate Colette so I need to keep her from raising the alarm.

Luckily the shelf underneath the gurney contained a number of leather straps and restraints one of which was a wicked looking ball gag. It was a hard rubber ball embedded with nasty quarter inch spikes, definitely not something you would use on a friend but Colette and I weren't exactly close.

I was moving slow as I managed to reach down and pick up the ball gag. Contact between the spikes and my fingers proved the spikes were sharp as nails. I checked to see that Colette's other restraints were still tight. There was a wide band over her fore head. Two others held her torso and her hands were restrained to the side of the gurney. Only her legs were free. I got the ball gag in position then used two fingers to pinch her nose shut. When her mouth popped open for air, I shoved the ball all the way behind her teeth and cinched it tight. The spikes biting in to the lining of her mouth awakened her. Those French eyes popped open and got wide as saucers when she saw me hovering over her. She tried to scream but all that came out was a muffled cry. Several of the spikes had penetrated her lips and there was even one sticking through the side of her jaw. I put one hand on the top of her head and the other under her jaw and squeezed. Based on her reaction, I don't think she liked that very much.

I grabbed some more belting off the gurney shelf. I looped it around her right leg and tied it off to the side of the gurney. Then I did the other. I had to take a breather after that. I was feeling a little dizzy.

Up on the screen, our Russian billionaire and bodyguard were playing Laser Whip with Pearl. They appeared to be having a much better time than she was. The two men were seated in comfortable office chairs with the laser guns in one hand and their cocks in the mouths of two obliging females who had appeared from somewhere.

"What are you doing?" said Karen who had come to check on me.

"Revenge, good you're here. I need your help," I said.

"What do you want me to do?" asked Karen.

"Hold her fingers while I pull out her nails," I said.

"Sounds delightful. Too bad it looks like she had a recent manicure," said Karen grabbing Colette's hand and separating her fingers.

It takes a surprising amount of strength to pull a fingernail out. I extracted the index and ring finger nail causing the French bitch untold agony. She passed out when I forced the pliers down to the base of her thumb. But I had discovered a vial of ammonium nitrate in her valise. I woke her back up so she wouldn't miss anything.

"You're exhausted. Let me do one," said Karen after I managed to separate Colette and her thumbnail. Karen was for the first time at least to me displaying a highly attractive sadistic streak. Then I remember she tried to chop up her philandering fiancé.

Karen did the third finger and pinkie. We had to revive Colette once again. We were getting the knack of it and the other hand went quicker. Colette had beautiful feet and the nails were perfect. At least they were before Karen and I pulled them out. From Colette's reaction, I'd have to say that toes hurt just as much as fingers.

I gathered the twenty nails up and placed them in a Ziploc bag and put it in my pocket.

"A souvenir," I said to Karen.

"You're a mess, Colette. And you had such beautiful nails." I was doing a little taunting myself. The spikes on the ball gag had worked there way though her cheeks as she contorted in the agony of nail removal. She looked like she had a porcupine in her mouth.

"Here, let's use these," said Karen pulling several alligator clamps out of Colette's values. There was a certain irony in torturing her with her own equipment. Karen adjusted the clamps for maximum pressure. I used the pliers on her nipples to extend them out to where they were translucent. Karen positioned the clamps and allowed them to snap shut at the base of the bud. That occasioned more wide eyes looks of pain and terror from our French ally.

After the nipples were done, I grabbed her clit in the pliers and crushed it flat as a sheet of paper so Karen could apply another clamp to her love button.

"We've used everything," said Karen looking in the now empty valise.

"Almost, do you think you could take a dump on her face? I'd do it but I am empty," I said.

"I'm not sure. I could try," said Karen.

"Here, I'll help you up," I said.

Karen climbed up on the gurney and pulled her short skirt up. She wasn't wearing any panty. She straddled Colette's face.

"Hold my hand to steady yourself. Just relax and let go," I said.

Sweet little Karen Masterson came through for me. At first it was a couple of soft ones that landed on Colette's head with a pleasing plop. Then something broke loose and the largely fruit and salad diet we ate on Nevis to keep our slim figures showed itself in a pile of loose shit that buried Colette's face under a brown puddle of manure. She looked like a cow had dumped on her.

"That was terrific. If I ever want somebody shit on I'll call you first," I said as I helped Karen down.

"That was my first time but it was fun," said Karen.

"Here, help me wheel her behind the curtain. We wouldn't want them to find her too soon," I said pushing Colette behind the stage curtain.

Karen and I found Gordon who had just finished a triple penetration of a famous film star who was on holiday in Nevis. As we left I looked up at the large monitor to see a more dead than alive Pearl being fucked into a vegetable state at the Robofuck station. Gordon told me before I left Nevis that they did not discover Colette until mid morning the next day. Her current residence is a sanitarium right outside Paris. Teach her to mess with a soldier of Uncle Sam's.

Chapter 28 – Dockside

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

I was standing on the wharf among a passel of white bread tourists wondering if the General has lost his mind. We were watching a seventeenth century sailing ship glide into the small harbor. It was an impressive sight all those billowing sails like something out of a romance novel. The crowd looked like what you'd find at one of those all-inclusive resorts that caters to families with teen-agers. I felt very out of place. My 'let's pretend' family hadn't shown up yet. Outside of myself, there wasn't a single familial unit that didn't consist of man, woman, and one or more offspring in the thirteen and up range.

Everyone got excited when the ship appeared. Cameras and camcorders came out of cases and they jockeyed for the best shot of the large vessel sailing up to the dock. Sailing ships made me think of pirates and thoughts of pirates lead me to images of innocent female passengers being brutally raped by savage corsairs as their men folk looked helplessly on. Cut it out Rozz I told myself. These people need to think you're straight not some edge player in the S&M world.

I was on a small Caribbean Island an hour's flight by seaplane from Nevis. I didn't know the name of the island or even if it had one. The General had arranged for me to have an extra two weeks leave from the Army. He'd also set up my latest excursion. Just as my stay in Nevis was ending, I got a call on my cell phone.

"Rozz, General Donaldson here," he said when I answered. I was in bed with some girl friends, several bottles of champagne and a supply of the excellent locally grown marijuana. Karen, Vivian and I had just finished eating each other to a climax in a daisy chain. Vivian and Karen were donning strap on cocks to fuck me silly.

"Hello General, it's been a wonderful trip. Thank you so much for everything," I said keeping my breath steady as Karen positioned the latex head against my backdoor. It's not easy to maintain a calm voice when nine inches of latex is passing through your rectum.

"That's great Rozz. Listen, I need you to check something out for me. An old Army buddy of mine has created a fantasy cruise that is most unusual. I'd like you to experience it and report your findings to me personally," said the General.

"I'd love to help you out but I am scheduled to return to Kuwait tomorrow," I said.

"All taken care of. You have been granted an extra two weeks leave," said the General.

"You are so kind. What's this fantasy cruise all about?" I said spreading my legs wider so Vivian could insert the faux dick in my vagina.

"It's called the Slavery Reality Cruise. It's a very true to life reenactment of life on a slave ship and working plantation. I don't have time to go into details. This is the second year he's been operating and he wants me to invest in his company so he can expand."

"Who would go on such a cruise?" I asked wondering if I understood the General correctly.

"White people who have a guilty conscience about slavery. As unlikely as it seems he has a waiting list. He normally takes only families with teenagers but we caught a break."

"How so?"

"A Boston family the Witherows, signed up and paid the $25,000 then came up short a mother. She broke her leg in a home accident tripped over the family dog on the way down stairs. You're going to take her place," said the General. "You are now Rozz Witherow, wife of Samuel or Sam as he likes to be called.

"And the real wife is all right with that?" I said once again struggling to keep my voice even as I felt those two columns of simulated man meat travel deep inside me rubbing together as they traversed my body cavities.

"Yes, they're college professors which means they are stupid and naïve as they come. Apparently she trusts her husband. Foolish woman. And he sends his assurances to you that he will act like a gentleman at all times."

"You mean he is not going to fuck me?" I asked playfully reaching down to work my clit.

"Well that's what he says but do what you want with him. Screw his brains out for all I care."

"You said only families. Are there children?"

"Yes, three, Monique is thirteen, Sandra fourteen and Carl fifteen. Don't fuck all four of them the first night," laughed the General.

"Aren't I a little young to have three teenage children?" I said.

"You're a second wife and their stepmother. You certainly beautiful enough to qualify as a trophy wife."

"All right. There must be more to this than you are telling me." Vivian chose that moment to bit the end of my nipple hard. It took every ounce of control not to scream.

"My buddy, retired General Alonzo McBride has a terrific sense of humor and total contempt for white liberals of the Eastern establishment. Alonzo is black as ace of spades by the way. I told him to give you his personal attention. His customers sign up for something that is historically accurate and he gives it to them. They think its educational and it is but they learn their history lesson the hard way," said the General.

"So they are really treated as slaves?" I said. God Vivian was savagely tearing at my other nipple with her teeth. This was torture. It was wonderful.

"Damn straight, he delivers on his promise of an experience that they will never forget. I won't tell you more. It would spoil the fun," said the General.

"How does he keep from being sued or arrested?" I asked. I was fully impaled in both holes. A light sheen of sweat covered my body. Karen handed me a glass that contained a mixture of pee provided by the three of us. I took a swallow then handed the glass to Vivian who drank her share. Karen polished off the glass. I retained some of the urine in my mouth to savor as I settled down for the going away fucking that the two women had promised me.

"He's incorporated in a tiny Caribbean country that wouldn't even consider a lawsuit against Alonzo. His family was from there and the governor is his cousin. Half the island's population works for him," said the General.

My flight had gotten me there early. I checked in at the registration table and received a badge identifying me as, 'Rosalind Witherow'. A half hour later I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to meet my new family.

Sam Witherow certainly looked the part of a college professor. He resembled one of the characters from the movie, Revenge of the Nerds, except all grown up. He had a slight paunch and thinning hair. I'd say average height and looks. My pussy did not get wet when I contemplated fucking him for the next two weeks. But the prospect of sex with his three children did.

There was no better way to describe Monique other than to say she was gorgeous, as beautiful a young girl as you would ever meet. She reminded me of the Breck shampoo girl. Wearing a pair of shorts, belly shirt and flip flops she had my mouth watering. She was the very picture of innocent girlhood. I figured she would look different by the time the trip was over.

Sandra was pretty too but a little overweight, mainly around her middle. She had black curly hair and a decent set of tits. She had large lips that I pictured wrapped around my clit. Given the girl's ages, the idea that they were virgins and that their step mom would need to train them sexually crossed my mind.

Carl also looked interesting. He was taller than his dad, a strong athletic looking man-child that I would enjoy training. He was wearing a Red Sox cap and shirt and looked and acted like a typical teenager. I planned to introduce him to another sport called rug munching if he hadn't tried it already.

Introductions over, Sam's first official act was to take a group shot of the four of us with his new digital Nikon. He asked another traveler to take a shot of the five of us. He told me that he planned at the first opportunity to email the pictures to Kay. Kay was the real wife laid up back in Boston. Maybe I would look Kay up the next time I was in Beantown and tell her how much I enjoyed fucking her family.

The three kids did not look at all thrilled to be on this weird vacation with their dad and his make-believe wife. Carl, the son looked me over carefully. You could almost see wheels in his head turning as he considered the probability of our winding up in bed together. The two girls were polite and distant. I'd expected that. The idea of a 'let's pretend' stepmother was not welcome in their world. Having a real mom is a pain in the ass when you're a teenage girl. Who needs a fake one?

"I really appreciate your helping us out," said Sam. "The payment is non refundable and I didn't buy trip insurance."

"Glad to do it," I said. "I'm very interested in the history of slavery and this is a great opportunity to learn."

"I understand you are a recent widow," said Sam seriously.

"Yes, a little over a month ago, I lost my husband. He was a soldier killed in action."

"Well, we'll try to be understanding and respect your need to grieve. Won't we kids?" said Sam.

"The kids made some perfunctory agreement, sort of a "yeah dad, whatever you say?"

The dock slowly filled up with those who had signed on for the slavery reality experience. They all seemed in such high spirits. I doubted that they had any idea what to expect. I queried Sam.

"What exactly is supposed to happen?" I asked.

"A realistic enactment of what it was like to be a slave is what their WEB site promises," said Sam. "They don't advertise but the word of mouth is that it's well worth the money. I'm really here on a grant from the Pew Trust. $25,000 is way beyond the means of a college professor with three children to raise. The foundation was kind enough to fund my application."

"Weren't slaves treated poorly?" I asked wondering who was making positive comments about what I expected was a pretty horrible experience for a normal person. Normal in this case meaning someone unlike me.

"Yes, they were. They will demonstrate all that to us. We get to see and experience what it was like to be a slave on a voyage to the new world. Of course, we will be much better treated than slaves actually were. There's a gourmet chef aboard the William Blunt," said Sam

"William Blunt?"

"That's the name of the ship. It's an exact replica of the actual William Blunt that made over fifty voyages bringing slaves to Southern plantations to pick cotton. Boston investors funded its construction and it returned a handsome profit. Several of Boston's Braham family fortunes originated in the slave trade, something their descendants don't like to call attention to these days," said Sam pointing to the ship that was finally docking.

Sam launched into a mini-lecture about the William Blunt that included many important but ignorable statistics like the size of the ships' beam whatever the hell that was. The kid's eyes glazed over the instant their dad started his spiel. God, college professors are a drag. Sam informed me that his historical specialty was trade and commerce in the 1700 to 1900 period. He rattled off a list of books he'd written on the subject. I pictured myself mounting him and clamping my vagina over his face to shut him up.

William Blunt safely docked we were herded on board. I'd say there were twenty families, close to eighty individuals. When I looked around at the crew, I wanted to cream in my shorts. Big, cold black, hard muscled males with vicious looking whips were everywhere. They looked sullen and angry. I got the feeling that everyone except me thought it was an act.

As we waited in line to board, I gave some thought to the issue of how straights react when introduced unexpectedly to S&M. Most would hate it. Pain is not popular. But there would be a tiny minority that would discover a side to themselves they didn't know existed. Some of the teenagers especially would experience life-changing transformations that would forever alter their perceptions of their own sexuality. Pain sluts and dominants would emerge and return home looking for someone handy with a whip. Oh well, enough of philosophizing I decided as I stepped on board the slave ship eager to get on with matters.

The crew was eyeing the women like they were picking out whom they planned to fuck first. The whole scene was making me horny. I hoped I would watch Monique and Sandra get their cherries busted if they were still virgins. Monique for sure looked too immature to have spread her legs for a boy. Sandra being overweight may have given it up for the first boy who was nice to her. Girls who are carrying a few extra pounds often feel they have to put out to be noticed. Most of the time the boy notice enough to fuck them a few times then treat them like shit for their generosity. It's a cruel world for the overweight teenage girl.

As the William Blunt cast off everyone was taken below deck into a cabin that was too small for eighty people. We were jammed together. It was hot as hell and the air was bad.

"It's hot in here. I can't breathe," whined Carl. His readiness to complain at a little discomfort made me wonder how he would react when matters got much worse. It wouldn't be long before I found out.

"The crew is just showing us how it was to be a slave. They were kept in confined quarters," said Sam reassuringly.

We must not have sailed far before we heard the anchor drop. One of the crew called for the Albertson family to leave the cabin and report to the main deck. Two young girls, husband, and wife stepped forward immediately anxious to leave the cramped space. As soon as they left the door was locked and we were left alone. We all settled in to wait inside the stifling cabin. It was only a few minutes before we heard the crack of a whip and the sound of a woman screaming. From that emerged a staccato of whip cracks and human screams that went on for a while. That was followed by a brief period of silence and then you could hear people shouting. Damn I was missing all the fun.

"Part of the show," said one of the fathers looking a little worried.

There is nothing so pleasing to a masochist's ear than the crack of a whip followed by a gut-wrenching scream. Left to my own devices I would have dropped my linen shorts to the floor pushed the crotch of my panty aside and began masturbating. Judging from the noise, the crew had whipped the shit out of the Albertson's before raping them.

"Sounds real," said Monique looking scared.

"It's all an act, part of the realism we were promised. In Africa, the slaves were whipped as soon as they got on board the ship to make them fear the lash and obey the crew," said Sam.

Time passed as the crew called each family's name in alphabetical order. The Witherows were last. Tension grew as the pattern repeated itself. The Morrisons were the largest family with four girls and three boys and they also signaled we were half way through the alphabet.

"What the hell is going on up there?" said one of the wives when we started to hear the familiar pattern of the crack of a whip followed by a scream of pain. It sounded very much like the scream of a woman from New Jersey that Dorothy Morrison had informed us she was. She had a distinctive voice and her scream was the same.

"It's got to be some sort of an act to scare us," said one of the fathers.

"I hope we didn't pay $5000 each to get our butts whipped," said another of the men looking concerned.

"Of course not, it's an act, a ruse," said Sam. "Don't worry. I bet they're all on deck drinking champagne and laughing at us."

I managed to keep my mouth shut and not announce that Sam was an idiot and that they were in for the worst day of their life. I didn't want to spoil the surprise. Finally we were the only family left.

"We're next," said Carl stating the obvious after the Simmons were called.

"Being the Witherows we probably missed a lot of the fun," said Sandra.

"I hate being at the end of the alphabet," added Monique.

The Simmons had a single child, a daughter. So we had a short wait before the surly and menacing guard opened the door.

When we reached the main deck, we did not find the other passengers sipping champagne and ready to laugh with us at the big joke. In fact we couldn't see any other passengers. What we did find was what must have been the entire population of the island waiting for us. I saw that the William Blunt had sailed out in the middle of the small harbor and anchored. When I was able to glance over the side, I saw dozens of what must have been the local's boats tied up alongside the ship. Whatever was going to happen to us would serve as entertainment for the citizens. There must have been two hundred people there. Some had climbed into the ship's rigging to get a better view.

"Strip," said the man who appeared to be in charge. I later learned that he was the General's friend, Lieutenant General (Ret.) Alonzo McBride.

"What?" said Sam totally perplexed.

"Slaves were stripped as soon as they were brought on board," said Alonzo.

"You are correct about that. Hannibal Cordero at NYU has written extensively of the horrible ways that slaves were abused during their voyage to America," said Sam displaying his scholarship.

"Right, so off with the clothes. You'll get them back in two weeks," said Alonzo.

"This must be some kind of joke," said Sam. "These are minor children."

"Daddy, I want to leave," whined Sandra. I suppose the idea of being naked in front of several hundred strangers is not that appealing when you're overweight.

"We better do as he says," I said anxious to be exposed and vulnerable in front of such a large crowd of nasty looking folks. Exhibitionism is my biggest weakness. I pulled my top over my head exposing my braless breasts.

Carl and his father's eyes focused on my tits like they were lasers. Monique and Sandra were looking too. I was having a terrific time.

"Rozz, put your top back on," said Sam.

"You just earned double lashes by disobeying," said Alonzo. "Gregg, make our guests look like they had just boarded a slave ship."

A dozen of the crew stepped forward and grabbed us. I can't say anybody actually resisted physically. Monique and Sandra started crying and screaming as the men pulled their clothes off and threw them in a cloth bag marked, 'Witherow.' When I looked over at Sam as they pulled his Calvin Klein briefs off I was pleasantly surprised. There was a substantial pole hanging between his legs. Nerd professor or not, he was well endowed. Things are looking up Rozz I told myself. When it came to cock size, Carl's acorn did not fall far from Sam's tree. It was as large maybe larger. It would take some serious cock sucking research to determine who had the largest pecker but I was just the woman for the job.

Monique was even more mouth watering naked than clothed. The word 'Lolita' leaped to my mind. Like an idiot, Sandra, was using her hands to cover her breasts and cunt. It was a scene of shouts, screams, curses, and loud protests; but inside of two minutes the five of us were buck naked seated on the main hatch waiting for the next act. I wrapped my arms protectively around Monique and Sandra. Sam was threatening Alonzo with arrest for assault and promising to sue him for every thing he was worth. I decided to do a little research while Sam engaged in fruitless arguing that earned all of us additional lashes.

"Are you a virgin?" I whispered to Monique.

"Yes," she whispered back through terrified eyes.

"How about you Sandra?" I asked her sister.

"Yes, no, why are you asking," replied Sandra still doggedly covering her privates.

"They're going to rape us," I said looking around at the crew and spectators many of whom had exposed their cocks and were jerking off.

"Oh no, daddy, don't let them rape me," screamed Sandra getting even more upset.

"Missy, slave girls were always raped by the crew. These men have wait to rape you or it would not be historically accurate," said Alonzo matter of factly.

"Surely, you're not going to harm my daughters," said Sam incredulously. The fact that he had paid $5000 each to have his family raped was unexpected to say the least.

"Of course we are," said Alonzo. "But first you five have a session with the whip so you understand the importance of obeying the orders of the crew. Gregg, twenty lashes fore and aft for Mr. Witherow. If you had followed orders like a good slave, it would have only been five."

Muscular crewmen grabbed a struggling and much weaker Sam and attached ropes to his wrists and ankles. Sam was unceremoniously hoisted a foot off the deck. The ankle ropes were used to draw his legs apart. Given that we were the last family to be whipped the crew had it down to a science. They tightened the ropes to where Sam looked like a starfish hanging above deck. There is something about a male slave all trussed up with their cock dangling down and a terrified look in their eyes that is just so appealing. I would love to have sucked his dick while they whipped him but I had to stay there holding my two frightened charges.

Sam kept protesting loudly right until the moment that two crewmen armed with floggers started to work on his back and front. Then the protests turned to screams as the nine-stranded whip carved bright red stripes on his too-white skin.

"Leave my dad alone," screamed Carl hurling himself against the crewmen called Gregg who easily sidestepped Carl while at the same time landing a huge fist in the boy's midsection. Carl went down on the deck clutching his stomach and trying to figure out how he had lost all the air in his lungs so quickly. Gregg reached down and stuck his hand in the crack of Carl's ass.

"You got a nice tight ass, boy. You're going to love having my cock inside it. We're going to split you wide open," said Gregg working his finger in Carl's asshole as the boy writhed in pain.

I'd wondered if the crew's bag of tricks included sodomy. From somewhere I recalled that Winston Churchill once said that Nelson's British Navy worked on the basis of 'rum, the lash, and sodomy'. I could certainly imagine that on the long voyage from Africa certain members of the crew that were bent that way would sodomize attractive male slaves. Alonzo was obviously striving for authenticity on all counts.

Gregg held a squirming Carl down as he fingered his butthole. Two crewmen were busily wailing the shit out of his daddy and the two terrified females were clinging to their recently acquired stepmother like she was the most wonderful mother on earth. Sweet I told myself. The crewmember working on Sam's front applied the flogger to Sam's cock and balls. Gregg released Carl as the count reached twenty and they let Sam drop to the deck. His hands immediately clutched his package as he rolled around the deck obviously in a lot of pain. He was covered in bright red stripes and his nuts had started to swell.

I learned I was next when they grabbed me off the hatch and started tying off my ankles and wrists. In a blink I was hanging a foot off the deck stretched like a rubber band. The ropes put my legs in the kind of split that I used to do in high school when I was captain of the cheerleading squad and Coach Beamer screwed me on his desk after practice.

Alonzo approached as soon as I was suspended and stuck two fingers in my cunt and began finger fucking me. The fact that my cunt was soaked in Bartholin gland secretion was not lost on him. He did me the favor of taking his slime covered fingers out of my cunt and sticking them in my mouth to suck. There was a murmur of approval from the onlookers as I eagerly licked his fingers. Fingers clean he returned his hand to my pussy. His callused thumb worked my clit as the fingers thrust in my hole. I squeezed the muscles in my cunt together and had my first and much needed orgasm of the day.

"General Donaldson said you were a pig slut who like it rough," whispered Alonzo as he added a finger from his other hand and pulled my vagina open. He grabbed my labia and pulled it hard enough that I cried out. The crowd shouted their approval of his actions as I whimpered in pain

"I like it rough," I groaned as I clamped my cunt muscles down on his hand.

"I'll have Ben and Sampson whip you extra hard,' said Alonzo lifting my up by my cunt. I was squirming in pain as his fingers painfully pressed into my flesh.

I looked around at the crowd watching me being abused sexually. To me it was a thrilling experience. I made a mental note to thank the General in some special way for all he had done to help me get through my mourning period. Alonzo was appealing to the exhibitionist in me. Two hundred horny natives were watching their leader play with my twat like I was nothing but a fuck toy. I was in for two weeks of physical and sexual abuse plus the opportunity to witness others being treated in the same fashion. How could anything be better than that?

"Guys, light this slut up extra bright," said Alonzo stepping away from me.

A moment later the flogger landed on my back and I reacted with an ear splitting scream five seconds later a complementary blow ripped into my boobs. It was a nine-stranded flogger, a classic cat-of-nine. The tips of each strand had a Turks head knot that made the strand land with a final painful pop that sent my pain centers into overdrive.

I screamed my lungs out as someone counted to twenty. I was wild eyed, shrieking with drool spilling out my mouth after ten. At twenty I lost bladder control and pissed on the deck.

"Give her an extra five on the slit for making a mess," commanded Alonzo.

I took a total of ten blows aimed directly upward into my sex. When a Turk's head know collides with your clitoris, you learn the meaning of true pain. The kind you would sell your soul to Satan to avoid. I practically danced in the air as the extras landed. Then I was unceremoniously dumped on the deck and dragged by my hair over to the hatch to rejoin the other Witherows. Carl took my place. The four of us clung together as we watched the scion of the Witherows be whipped senseless. Carl also lost control of his bladder so he got an extra ten on his manhood. A sobbing groaning Carl crawled over to us when they were finished with him. I put my arm around him and reached down to put his hand on his bright red cock to comfort him. He wept on my breasts as he recovered. His boyish tears fell softly on my flesh inflaming my senses. His lips were practically on my nipples.

Alonzo's crew took a shrieking and struggling Sandra and hoisted her off the deck. I watched her face carefully as they went to work on her. It's more entertaining to watch a pudgy girl being whipped. There is so much movement of flesh and the whip marks are more vivid.

Half way through Sandra fainted. Alonzo stepped up, took a phial out of his pocket, opened it and waved it under her nose. She jerked awake. Alonzo worked a finger in her vagina causing her to squirm around. He then asked the same question I had.

"Are you a virgin?"

"I don't know," replied a sobbing Sandra. "Probably not. Please don't let them whip me anymore."

"You don't know," said Alonzo sticking his finger deeper in her vagina. "I don't' feel a cherry."

In these days when middle class mothers let their daughters borrow their dildo/vibrators when they're ten or eleven who has a hymen. Frankly I don't remember ever having one. Maybe I was born without. Or I broke it when I stuck the handle of my hairbrush in my cunt when I was nine. I was an early achiever when it came to sex.

"I drank some beer at a party and passed out in a spare bedroom. When I woke up, someone had undressed me. I think one of the boys took advantage of me but I'm not sure," cried Sandra tearfully. I thought it sort of an odd confession for that crowd but everyone listened politely.

Sandra wasn't the first girl who was unsure of her status. Getting drunk, passing out and getting fucked for the first time wasn't all that rare. I could name plenty of girls who weren't sure who had taken their cherry. Maybe it was better that way. Go to a party, drink until you pass out and let events take their course. No emotional attachment to some asshole you may never see again.

"In a very few minutes, you will know for certain that you are not a virgin," said Alonzo to the sobbing girl.

Sam was too far gone to pay attention to his eldest daughter's confession. He just lay there with his swollen cock in his hands eyes closed occasionally moaning. Carl was still curled up against me and I was holding his pecker in my hands that was showing signs of recovery. Monique was holding on to me for dear life.

Twenty reached they dropped a moaning Sandra then drug her back to me for comfort. She had the kind of fair skin that really showed a whip mark. She resembled a zebra.

"It'll be all right," I said kissing her on the lips.

"Are they going to rape us?" whispered Sandra.

"I'm afraid so, sweetheart. There's nothing you can do so just accept what comes," I said kissing her again this time brushing my tongue over her lips. I was almost out of control. Sandra gave me a look after that last kiss. I think she was getting on to me. Then she surprised me by holding her head up for another kiss. This time I pushed my tongue in a little further. Our make session was interrupted by Monique screams as they prepared her for twenty of the finest.

Monique resisting all the way took her sister's place. She was extremely flexible and they stretched her out to where her legs were almost parallel with the deck. I sat there totally enthralled as they whipped thirteen-year-old Monique. The blows were not as strong or the girl would have wound up in the ER. Alonzo had to revive her twice. He stuck his finger in her cunt and proclaimed to the crowd that she was a virgin at least for now. Monique released her bladder earning extra ten strokes to her cunt. I watched carefully in an attempt to retain a vivid image in my memory banks of that beautiful child being savagely whipped. My cunt was oozing by the time the untied the ropes and dropped her to the hard planks of the William Blunt.

The lashing phase of the Witherows introduction to slavery complete, the gang rape phase commenced. We had a short respite where we were given bottles of water to drink.

"Drink it or we'll hang you back up and whip you till dark," ordered Gregg. I suppose there was a concern about dehydration. I consumed a litter of water before Alonzo commanded us to get close together and on all fours. My hips were touching the person next to me on both sides. I suppose that is the best way to rape a family. Place them tightly together so they can see, feel, hear, and even smell the others being fucked. Would this tightly shared experience make them close? Did the family that gets raped together stay together? Would the wife back home always regret she wasn't there to share the experience of having forced intercourse with her children? I tried to think of anyone I knew who had been raped as a mother/daughter combination but couldn't recall anyone. I decided that what the Witherows were experiencing was pretty unique and they were damn lucky to be there. I noted that on the forward part of the ship was a crewman with a professional looking video camera mounted on a tripod. He was capturing everything that went on. I wondered whether Alonzo would give each of his guests a video record of their first day on the William Blunt. Reverie complete I returned to the present.

I looked over to see that Gregg had taken a position at Carl's rear. He was attempting to spit accurately on Carl's anus. Most boys experiment with sodomy at some time. I made a mental note to find out Carl's anal history when we were alone.

Alonzo was behind a protesting Monique getting her opened up. One of the whip artists was working his cock in my cunt and the other was parting Sandra's labia with his cock head. A very young and good-looking crewman was about to introduce Sam to slave sodomy no doubt the topic of his next scholarly publication.

None of the Witherows were making a fight of being screwed in public. They had been whipped into submission just like real slaves. Twenty lashes will shut you up and make you willing to do whatever the man with the whip says. Monique and Sandra were quietly sobbing at their fate. I suppose being gang raped on the wooden deck of a replica of a slave ship was not how they pictured their deflowering. They probably had something more romantic in mind. The fact that the crowd that had kept its distance was now crowded around us was not encouraging.

I looked over at Carl who didn't look happy at all at the prospect of having his man cunt fucked. Taking my position as stepmother seriously I leaned over and whispered in his ear.

"Just relax and breathe. You can fuck me later if you like," I said. Carl looked at me a little shocked then he smiled at me. He nodded that he understood what I said. Like any good mother I was giving him something positive to look forward to once his ordeal was over. At least I though that was what a good mother would do for her son. I once read that Japanese mothers who do not want their sons distracted by sexual thoughts or girls when they are studying for their make or break college entrance exams have sex with their sons to keep them focused on their studies. I would certainly do that for my son if I ever have one.

Monique cried out as Alonzo lunged into her. I didn't figure him for gentle and he wasn't. I sighed with pleasure as I felt a big one glide in my hole. I reached between my legs and started to work my clit. Sandra grunted in pain as the question of her virginity was resolved once and all.

"Oh shit, it hurts," groaned Sandra.

"Play with your clit and it will hurt less," I said to her. "Like this," I said reaching between her legs to rub her button.

She looked at me like I was from Venus then reality set in and she reached between her legs for her love button.

"Tickle your clit and it won't be that bad," she advised Monique who had turned out to be a grunter. She was making a lot of noise for a thirteen year old.

"What?" asked Monique in between grunts as Alonzo was hammering it home.

"Play with your pussy, stupid, Rozz and I are,' said Sandra.

Monique hesitated then reached back and started to play with herself.

"It does help," said Monique after a few minutes.

Carl exhaled loudly as Gregg invaded his rectum with a solid nine inches. My faux husband, Sam, surprised me by sounding a sigh of pleasure as he took it up the ass.

"Oh yeah, that's great," breathed the intellectual bi-sexual as he was being stroked. I looked over to see that he was jerking his cock with one hand.

It didn't take long for my partner to blow his load. He was replaced in half a second. Somebody shoved a cock in my face and I opened my mouth to take it in.

Sandra obviously knew how to suck cock because she opened her yap when somebody pressed his meat against her lips. A quick glance showed all five of us were getting it in both ends. Carl was showing some skill at cock sucking and even looked happy when he got to swallow a load. Carl was obviously more of a man of the world than I had thought.

We spent maybe an hour on all fours. At some point, I heard Alonzo say, "Butt fuck the bitches." The cock in my vagina was immediately relocated to my rectum.

"Never had your shit packed?' asked the man forcing his cock in the ass of a protesting Sandra who was arguing for a pussy fuck.

"It hurts, take it out, fuck my pussy," pleaded Sandra readily offering an alternative that would have been unthinkable two hours before.

Monique was squealing like a baby pig at whoever was forcing her rear passage. After a while, the two girls gave up the protests and let matters take their course. Monique even resumed her loud grunting.

Thirteen and fourteen is pretty young for anal. I didn't do anal until I was sixteen and that was after I had been sticking butt plugs up my ass for a year. Still, it hurt like hell when I persuaded my boyfriend to plow my shitter the first time.

Carl and his dad had been sodomised a half dozen times plus been forced to swallow an equal number of tasty ejaculates. In less than two hours, the Witherows had gotten an inordinate amount of sex. Later when they compared notes with other families, they discovered they were whipped and fucked more than anyone. All the others had received five lashes with the whip. The women had been raped only once. None had been raped anally. And only the youngest and handsomest of the males had been sodomised. Sam attributed our harsher treatment to the fact that we went last and were the finale. I attributed it to the fact that the General had asked Alonzo to take special care of me.

We were covered in jism when they finished with us. Cum was leaking out of our holes. We were ordered to consume another litter of water. Party over, everyone but the crew departed. A very heavy and uncomfortable leg iron was bolted around one leg chaining the five of us together. We were pushed down below to a dark fetid deck covered in filthy straw. It was only tall enough to sit upright in. You could barely see your hand in front of your face. There was a plastic bucket for a toilet.

It was packed with humanity. There was hardly enough room to sit down. The smell of unwashed bodies oozing semen was not pleasant. Being naked up against people you cannot see and don't know is an eerie feeling. Unknown hands felt my tits and butt as we Witherows sought enough space to sit down.

I was chained between Sam and Carl. We were so exhausted the five of us curled up together against a bulkhead and went sound asleep. My last memory was listening to the crew raise the anchor. Around me the rest of the guests were also sleeping in naked clumps just like regular slaves being transported to the plantations. Alonzo was certainly making it a very true to life experience.

Chapter 29 – Uncivilized Behavior

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

I was rudely awakened from a deep sleep when someone grabbed my ankles and yanked them apart then pounced on me attempting to work his penis into my cunt as he grabbed both my wrists in his hand. I groaned as the head of his cock bludgeoned my slit. Oh Jesus, I thought where the hell am I? I had a flashback to my college days. I'd passed out at some frat party and pulled a train of fifteen Sigma Chi and three lesbians from the Tri Delta sorority. They had it all on video and were loading it on one of the computer lab servers so the entire campus would know that Rozz was a slut willing to bang everyone on campus. No, couldn't be. I'd graduated and went on to bigger and better gangbangs. Plus I'd learned to stay awake and not miss all the fun.

"What the fuck," I cried disoriented and not fully conscious. My pussy felt sore as a boil and in no shape for a pounding. The fact that it was pitch black and I couldn't see my attacker added to my confusion.

I recalled that an unknown number of hours before I'd taken ten good ones right on the twat. Those had sent me dancing in the air shrieking my agony to the gulls circling overhead. That was after twenty lashes on my fore and aft. My rapist's weight added to my own was grinding the raised whelps on my backside against the rough wooden planks of the William Blunt. I also recalled being gang raped on deck in all three orifices for the amusement of the locals. There are times when even I am not ready to be screwed.

"Hey, stop it," I yelled into the pith black. Mr. X was one handing his pecker between my labia forcing his way into my love tunnel. Ordinarily I would have welcomed his attack but he took me by surprise plus I was stiff as a board from sleeping on the wooden deck.

"Shut up. You said I could fuck you," said Carl whose voice I immediately recognized as the one attempting to force his peter into my very sore and dry vagina.

"What are you doing, Carl?" said Daddy Samuel inches from my ear. My left leg was still chained to his right but somehow Carl had undone the leg irons that held us together. My right leg was free.

"Fucking her, she said I could have a fuck," said Carl.

"Later, I'm too sore," I whined then followed that with a loud groan as Carl's dick found my entrance at last and slid painfully home. Every dry inch it traveled hurt like hell. A good son would have eaten his step mom's pussy first to get it wet before he rammed it in. Children today have no manners.

"She said it was all right?" questioned Sam obviously receptive to the idea. That was a shocker. What happened to those promises to respect my widow's weeds? Maybe the fact that I was naked and helpless changed that.

"Oh fuck she's tight," said Carl as he bottomed out inside me.

Fortunately my Bartholin glands had begun to respond and my pussy was getting over its initially negative reaction to an unexpected intruder.

"Are you okay with this, Rozz?" asked Sam.

"You son's already got his cock in my pussy? What's your point?" I replied adjusting my position to be more comfortable.

"You can have her Dad when I'm through," said Carl starting to pump me. "She's a hot piece of ass for a step mom."

Bowing to a fait accompli I signaled my willingness by wrapping my free leg around his butt and on his next down stroke pulling Carl to me as I humped upward. "She's fucking back, Dad. What a slut," said my stepson correctly appraising my true nature.

"Just trying to be a good mom to my boy," I said pushing my quickly lubricating cunt up off the deck to meet his downward thrust. My cunt was enjoying the rape even if I wasn't.

Carl let go of my hands and I put them around his shoulders and drew him down for a long wet kiss. I reached out and put a finger in his butt crack and pushed on his brown eye to rev his engine.

"Oh shit, yeah, Rozz, finger my ass," moaned my stepson who I had decided to show the difference between a fuck and a good fuck. I felt a hand that didn't belong to Carl land on the tit on Sam's side.

"As long as you don't object, I guess it's okay under the circumstances," said Sam working his hand over my boob fingering my nipple.

"I'm a little sore but you two can fuck me," I whispered realizing it wasn't every day you got to screw both father and son. You have to take advantage of these situations when they occur.

"See dad, I knew she was a slut the first time I saw her. Stick your cock in her mouth while I fuck her pussy," suggested Carl to his Dad.

I did a memory search and determined this was my second dad and lad fuck. I'd screwed Trace and General Donaldson on multiple family get togethers. It's not a common form of father and son bonding but I suspect a very powerful one when it does occur. How many boys would like to be able to say they'd shared a piece of pussy with their dad?

"My leg is chained to hers," said Sam indicating he was willing but unable.

"Just unscrew the bolt, it'll come off," said Carl.

It was then that I realized that sexual activity was starting up all around me. You could hear the sounds of whispered protests, moans, sobs, and the occasional slap followed by a cry of pain as the males attacked the females.

"Don't daddy," said a young girl's voice inches from my head. I recalled there was a man, wife, and teenage daughter family unit in that direction. That morning we had chatted briefly with them while we were waiting to be called on deck. The girl looked to be the same age as Monique. When we climbed down to the lower deck, it was they that made some room for us against the bulkhead. The top of my head was touching the wife's hip.

"Warren, leave Lucinda alone," whispered the owner of the hip. I felt her move then I heard a loud slap.

"Get the fuck off me, Margaret," said the man angrily.

Margaret burst into tears.

"She's your daughter, Warren. It's not right."

"You say one more word and I'll beat the shit out of you," hissed Warren. "Don't ruin this for me. Lucinda's all right with it, aren't you sweetheart?"

"Be careful daddy, I'm sore," whispered Lucinda.

"Just lay still Lucinda. Daddy will be finished in a minute," said Margaret.

"Stick your finger in my butt and give me some ass play, Margaret," said Warren.

The top of my head felt Margaret make a slight shift in position.

"Wet your goddamn fingers first, you stupid bitch," said Warren. "How does Daddy's little girl like having his big cock in her cunt?"

"It feels good, Daddy," said Lucinda punctuating her remark with a little moan.

This is crazy I thought. What the hell is happening? At that point, Sam finished removing our connecting leg irons.

"Suck it, Rozz," said Sam after he maneuvered into position to put his peter against my lips.

"Warren, there's a man trying to put his mouth on my pussy," said Margaret. That had to be Sam. Since his cock was in my mouth his head was between Margaret's legs and he was taking advantage of the situation. I heard a foot above my head the unmistakable sounds of a man-eating pussy.

"Well, spread your legs and enjoy it," said Warren. "Just act like the cunt you really are."

"I don't even know who he is," said Margaret.

"Just take a deep breath, close your eyes and enjoy getting your rug munched. There's nothing I can do about it," said Warren.

There were roughly eighty of us crammed naked into the ship's hold. We're in their assholes to elbow. We'd all been whipped and raped even the men. It must have still been night because you couldn't see your hand in front of your face. The only lights were a couple of dim night-lights illuminating the plastic buckets that comprised our toilet facilities. Somehow this group of well-educated academics and families had woke up and spontaneously decided that the rules on sexual intercourse especially those dealing with incest had been repealed.

Oedipus was definitely Rex as sons climbed on their mothers and gave them the high hard one. After some preliminary objections, the moms decided there was nothing to do but enjoy it.

"Duane, get off me," said a nearby mother realizing that the son she had carried in her womb for nine months was attempting to stick his cock into the chamber from which he had emerged.

"Mom, You're beautiful. I want you," said Duane.

"Where's your father?"

"He crawled off toward the front," said Duane.

"Why, where did he go?"

"You know the little redhead? The one he thought was so cute."

"Yes, her father teaches economics at Dartmouth."

"Yeah I guess. Anyway he said he was going to screw her."

"She's still in high school."

"So am I Mom. Now open your legs," said Duane.

"Oh God this isn't right."

"This trip was your idea."

"I know but I never expected anything like this to happen."

"You got such great tits, Mom. I love to suck them just like when I was a baby and you were breast feeding me."

"This is so wrong."

"Then why are you so wet?"

"I don't know."

"After I cum the first time, I want you to suck my dick then we can do it again."

"All right Duane."

I could hear Margaret starting to moan and I decided to give Sam assistance. I reached up over my head and felt my way toward Margaret's sphincter. Sam was busy licking her cunt and fingering her vagina. I stuck two fingers in Margaret's juicy hole to get them wet then slipped my forefinger up her ass to my second knuckle. Margaret reached an orgasm after two minutes of my finger work. Based on the noise she made, the strong contractions of her fuck muscles and the contortions she made, I'd have to say that Margaret had her world rocked. As Margaret experienced a very deep and prolonged orgasm, Sam filled my mouth with jism and Carl sprayed my other hole. I considered that a highly satisfactory conclusion.

Carl rolled off me to catch his breath.

"Did what happen that I think happened?" whispered Sandra in my ear awkwardly expressing herself.

"You brother just fucked me and I gave your dad a blowjob."

"At the same time?" asked Sandra.

"Yes."

"Cool, this place is wild."

"Yes, it's definitely out of control," I said leaning over to tongue kiss Sandra.

'"Are you into girls?" asked Sandra leaning down to kiss my breasts.

"I'm bi-sexual."

"That's cool. So am I."

"Is Monique bi?"

"I've never done anything with a girl," said Monique answering my question herself. I hadn't realized she was awake.

"I didn't know you were awake," I said leaning over Sandra to kiss Monique. Monique pressed her lips against mine and we kissed. Obviously her answer did not mean she lack the will just the experience.

Sandra's hungry little mouth was working on my nipples. Sam and Carl had crawled off looking for other prey. Around us you could hear the sounds of people having intercourse indiscriminately. I felt like I was breathing sex. The air was warm and humid. The smell of pussy and cock filled the confined space. Just inhaling made me horny.

"Rozz, can you get this off my ankle?" asked Monique interrupting my kisses.

Obviously our slaver masters wanted us to be able to remove the leg irons. I figured it out in a few minutes and the girls were free.

"Thanks, that was so uncomfortable," said Monique as soon as I got the damn thing off.

"Where's Daddy?" asked Sandra.

"He and Carl went looking for more pussy."

"Mother would die if she knew what was happening," said Sandra. "I wonder if Carl would have fucked Mother if she hadn't broken her ankle."

"Damn right he would have. She'll be jealous that I got to fuck Carl not her," I said. "Maybe when you get back to Boston you can talk her into screwing Carl."

"I heard that girl Lucinda getting fucked by her daddy," said Monique.

"You want your Daddy to fuck you, Monique?" I asked working on her tiny nipples. Sandra's tongue was trailing down my button headed for my clit.

"I'm not sure, maybe," responded Monique.

"Let's the three of us do a daisy chain," I suggested reaching down to rub Monique's clit. She was wet.

"Sure, why not? Everybody else is doing something. I just wish Daddy were here," said Monique indicating an eagerness to let Sam fuck her.

In the midst of eighty writhing bodies intent on violating the incest taboo, my two 'let's pretend' step daughters and I got down to some serious rug munching. We switched at least twice so we got to sample both girls. I was a little surprised by how the girls were not bothered by the fact that there was one fresh and half dozen aged batches of semen in my vagina. Sandra and Monique both smelled like they had been working in a miner's brothel on payday. No one was being too fastidious about putting their mouth on a pussy that was a long way from fresh. I reveled in working my tongue into their fuck holes and licking out the goodies. The two young misses greedily returned the favor.

"Is that Carl's?" asked Sandra pulling her mouth off my hole.

"Yes, that's your brothers," I replied.

"Did Daddy cum in you too?" asked Monique.

I'd decided that as soon as Sam got back and if he had any lead left in his pencil, he'd have to screw Monique. She needed some attention from her daddy.

"Daddy ejaculated in my mouth. I sucked his cock while Carl fucked me," I said.

"Wow, that must have been great," said Monique whose sweet little fuck hole I was working. I was occasionally switching to her asshole that caused her to moan like a French whore trying to impress her customer. I instructed my two charges in the finer points of ass play. I was a little surprised at their lack of squeamishness. Most thirteen and fourteen year old girls aren't eager to stick their fingers in a shit hole but these two didn't raise any objections.

It wasn't long before the three of us had very satisfactory orgasms. Around us things seemed to be settling down a little. I cuddled up between my two girls hoping to get some more sleep. Sam and Carl had not returned.

I was just about to doze off when once again, I felt hands grabbing my ankles and pulling them apart. I looked up and saw three large forms in front of us

"These are the three, Carl told us about," said a young man's voice.

"I got the mom," said the boy with his hands on my ankles.

"I got the fat one. Why do I have to fuck the blimp?" said the one who was spreading Sandra's legs.

"Rozz, what's happening?" whined Sandra.

"The Barlow triplets are about to fuck your fat ass. I'm Billy. Tom's the one who's going to put the meat to that slut of a mother of yours and Steve's got your little sister."

I remembered that one family had three oversized sons. The father was a healthy six-footer and Mom was only a few inches shorter. There were three boys, obviously triplets and an older sister. The boys looked like three linemen for a Division I college football team. Someone had mentioned they were only fourteen and still growing.

"Let us suck your cocks first," I offered.

"Good idea, slut," said Tom grabbing the back of my head and pulling it to his crotch.

"No," whined Monique. I had no idea why she was objecting. I heard a loud slap and Monique started to cry.

"Suck it bitch or I'll twist your nipple off," said Steve.

"Choke on it, fatso," said Billy. I heard the sound of Sandra gagging and choking. I had Tom's fat cock in my throat but I had the experience to handle it.

"I can't breathe," whined Sandra when Billy let her up for air. I could feel Monique struggling to breathe beside me.

"Breathe through your nose," I whispered when I came up for air. I immediately felt a huge hand land on the side of my face. It was a vicious open palm slap that covered the entire side of my face. I saw stars.

"Shut up bitch, we'll give the orders around here," said Tom who reached down and grabbed my nipples in his giant fingers and attempted to twist them off. I whimpered in pain as he crushed and rotated my buds as he pulled them so hard I thought he was going to rip them off.

Those three sadists were turning me on. I always pictured that Trace and I would have sons like these. We talked about having three or four big strapping boys. Trace was 6'3". I'm 5'10". The Barlow triplets could have been ours. I would have been so proud. I pictured myself consoling young girls they would beat up and rape. One of my fantasies was to be sitting on the couch holding a sobbing naked blonde cheerleader with two black eyes and split lips telling my about how my boys stripped her naked in front of her friends then fucked her in all three orifices while she begged them to stop.

"Is that as hard as you can hit? Any dickless wimp can hit harder than you," I said.

Immediately an even harder slap landed on my other cheek. This one really rang my bell. I tasted blood in my mouth.

"Harder, asshole," I yelled.

This time I really saw stars when his huge hand impacted my cheek. In spite of the loud ringing in my ears I heard two more slaps followed by the cries of Sandra and Monique. The Barlow triplets slapped the three of us around for several minutes then they bent us double and rammed their cocks in us.

"Bite out tits," I yelled. My knees were right beside my ears. I had over two hundred pounds of man-child lying on me pounding his cock in me with intent to fuck me to death. Tom's teeth were chewing my already sore nipples. He was biting down hard. I was sobbing but still begging for pain. Monique and Sandra's cries added to the bedlam. Over the remainder of my fantasy slavery vacation I got to witness the Barlow triplets working on other women and the occasional man. It was always the same a good beating followed by a brutal rape in all three orifices. Since the three switched off all three boys fucked us. For the finale they put us on all fours and entered us anally. That occasioned a vicious spanking that made me bite down on my fist to control the pain. It was light enough to see a little and through the gloom I was able to make out several of our fellow travelers masturbating while they watched the triplets brutalize and rape us. The woman named Margaret and her daughter were inches away working their clits as we three screamed and pleaded in response to slaps, spanks, and some of the meanest hand nipple torture I had ever been subjected to.

Finally they dumped their loads in our butts and I was left to comfort my sobbing and terrified stepdaughters as they crawled away laughing. Carl and Sam returned in a few minutes somewhat the worst for wear. It seams they had happened on the Barlow mother and daughter while the dad and the triplets were off screwing elsewhere. When the Barlow males returned they took exception to the fact that Sam was screwing the daughter and Carl was butt fucking Mom. Apparently Mom Barlow and Sis had not objected but the daddy and the boys took exception.

As a result, Sam and Carl had been forced to suck Daddy Barlow's cock while Tom, Steve, and Billy sodomised them. Sam and Carl had offered the triplets we three in recompense. They had stayed with the Barlows fucking father, mother, and daughter while the three boy worked on us. That seemed fair I suppose. I gathered Sam was just as happy sucking dick as eating pussy.

As I lay there with cum seeping out of my asshole, I gave some thought to the night's events. As I said before I first planned to be a psychiatric nurse before switching to OR. I'd taken a full load of abnormal psychology courses in college. Civilization was according to my professor only a millimeter deep. In terms of time, man's existence as a near ape was a thousand years compared to a few seconds of civilization. If you take man out of his comfortable habitat and brutalize him, he can say to hell with civilization and revert to ape like behavior. One of my professors had pointed out that the other primates and the various ape species ranging from the chimpanzee to the gorilla don't think twice about screwing their mother or sister.

Down in the small crowded hold of the William Blunt, eighty well-educate genteel while folk proved how tenuous civilization is.

Chapter 30 – Family Photos

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

"Smile," said the crewmen who served as the William Blunt's official photographer. He was passing among us while we ate. He took a group shot of us Witherows eating breakfast. Everyone seemed to have gotten over any embarrassment at being naked. Even chubby Sandra gave the photographer a big smile and didn't attempt to cover her private parts. I wondered what WEB site those pictures would wind up on

This was turning out to be the most bizarre interlude in a lifetime of strange events. All of us had been ordered on deck in the early morning where we were presented with a sumptuous breakfast buffet. So far the only thing Sam had been right about was the food. It was a combination of American staples such as scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes, and sausage combined with local cuisine such as Jamaican jerk chicken and delicious conch chowder. It was quite well done. There was even a station where a chef was cooking omelets and crepes to order. I was eating a scrumptious crab omelet.

It was a beautiful day to be sailing in the Caribbean even for a slave. The sun was warm, the sky a brilliant blue and the breeze was delightful. As for me in the last twenty four hours I'd been whipped, rapped, beaten and had lesbian sex with two young teenagers. I was having a great time.

Most of the women and some of the men were moving gingerly. Wives whose normal fuck diet was once a month had gotten six months of cock in the last twenty-four hours. Their female parts weren't used to the size and power of the meat that the crew was packing. Between all that unexpected dick and being hung up and publicly whipped they were getting much more attention than they ever got at home. The young girls looked a little the worse for wear too. Still many of them had finally gotten their overworked fathers to pay them some serious notice even if it did require they spread their legs for daddy. The men and boys appeared very pleased with themselves.

Monique gave a smile and wave to one of the Barlow triplets. Thirteen and already a slut I noted. I would have loved to take a poll to see how many girls fucked their biological father for the first time last night. The men all looked a little sheepish in the cold light of day. Having to face Daddy's little girl the next morning couldn't have been easy. The boys were casting guilty looks at their mothers and sisters.

"I love the way you fucked me last night," I whispered in Carl's ear to put the boy at ease.

"I'll do you again, tonight," he whispered back giving me a big smile. I was developing a taste for young boys. They're just so damn cute.

If I thought it was going to be a calm day I was quickly proven to be wrong. The Witherows were sitting together on the hatch cover eating when one of the bolder female passengers decided to complain about being whipped, raped, and tossed into a dark cramped hold to be raped again by relatives and fellow passengers. Some people just don't know a good time when they have it.

"Captain, I'm going to see that you and every member of your organization spend the rest of your life in prison," said a petite brunette standing up to block Alonzo's path when he happened to pass by. Her husband had attempted to stop her by grabbing her arm but she shook him off and confronted the tall black man.

"May I ask what is your complaint, Wanda?" asked Alonzo politely flashing a big smile. I was surprised he knew her first name. Later, I learned that Alonzo had a gift for recalling names. I listened intently thinking this is going to be good.

"Complaint? Are you insane? My entire family and I were whipped and raped by your crew yesterday afternoon. They sodomised my husband and soon. Last night fellow passengers unknown to me raped my fourteen-year-old daughter and myself. The same daughter who lost her virginity on this very deck yesterday when that crewmen there forced himself on her," said Wanda. She was pointing to one of the crewmen who was cutting and servicing slices of prime rib to a passenger. I might add that her son gave her an odd look when she mentioned her last night's attacker was an unknown passenger. Father and daughter also exchanged a look. I didn't doubt that her son a tall skinny kid had ploughed Mom's furrow while Dad had done the same for his daughter.

"Wanda, Didn't our WEB site note promise a realistic enactment of what occurred on an actual slave ship?" said Alonzo.

"Yes, but nothing mentioned whippings or rape?" said Wanda. "It's insane to think that we would pay $5,000 each to be brutalized."

"When my ancestors were brought to work at a plantation in South Carolina, they were treated much worse than your family. One of my ancestors, Mamma Hattie learned to read and write and she wrote an account of her voyage from the basin of the Congo to Charlestown. She was whipped and raped every day by the crew. At night, her fellow slaves raped her. And I might add, she was not provided decent food and water. Many of her fellow slaves died on the voyage."

"I understand all that and I'm sorry for how slaves were treated but that has nothing to do with today. My family wants to leave. We do not intend to spend another day on this ship. And I plan to speak with the Federal authorities when I return to Philadelphia and have your entire operation shut down and the principals arrested," said Wanda defiantly. She seemed to be on a roll.

I must say that Wanda had spunk. She still had a good figure with a pert little bottom that I pictured myself licking. Her petite 5'5" frame was standing right up to Alonzo's 6'3" massive structure. Still I would have guessed that Wanda was not going to win the argument.

"Gregg, Marcus, it seems that Wanda here needs an attitude adjustment," said Alonzo. "Prepare slave Wanda for punishment."

Most of the passengers found their food of great interest as Gregg and Marcus grabbed a protesting Wanda and marched her over to one of the masts. They tied her to the mast facing outward. Her breasts were still showing some red stripes from the day before. Wanda was screaming for her husband to come to her aid; but hubby was sitting very still on the hatch cover holding his son and daughter. I was looking for the waiter to refill my coffee.

"Foolish woman," I whispered to Sam.

"Sorry about last night, we got carried away," said Sam.

"Don't worry. I enjoyed it," I whispered back putting my hand on his arm.

"You're not mad at Carl and me," said Sam.

"No, I'd have been mad if you two hadn't fucked me," I said.

"The girls seem to be dealing with it alright," said Sam glad I wasn't angry.

"Monique's infatuated with one of the Barlow triplets. Sandra's a little more reserved. They both feel you are neglecting them."

"Neglecting them how?"

"You didn't screw either of them. They heard other fathers screwing their daughters last night and you didn't come near them. You two rushed off to fuck somebody else."

"Yes, that's how we managed to run into Denise Barlow and her daughter Tracy."

"How were they?"

"Surprisingly eager, this entire trip is nothing like I thought it would be. I'm still trying to process what happened last night. Poor Carl is wondering whether he's gay. We had to suck off Dave Barlow and the triplets when they caught us screwing Denise and Tracy," said Sam.

"You must be bisexual?" I asked.

"I suppose. I've always been able to go either way. Something that not even my wife Kay knows. Carl surprised me with his readiness to let Dave Barlow fuck his ass. He actually seemed to enjoy it"

"Carl's probably bi the same as his dad. He liked putting his dick in me enough to agree to screw me again."

"Everything seems so out of control. Sandra and Monique really want me to screw them," said Sam.

"Yes, I'll help if you like."

"I bet they whip the hide off her," said Sam referring to Wanda who was now firmly lashed to the main mast. She was still beseeching her mate to come to her aid. He was ignoring her.

There was something so damn sexy about a naked woman tied to that big round pole sticking out of the deck. Her arms went straight back causing her boobs to jut out. You could see the muscles straining in her shoulders. Her tits were bouncing and her nipples looked hard. Maybe she knew all along that arguing with Alonzo would get the shit whipped out of her. Perhaps she was just realizing some hidden desire to be punished.

"How many, boss," Gregg asked Alonzo.

"Let's start with the standard thirty on her front," said Alonzo.

Gregg and Marcus began making Wanda wish she'd kept her mouth shut. The crowd surprised me a little by either ignoring Wanda's scourging or watching it intently. You don't see many outdoor whippings. Most are in some enclosed dimly lit dungeons. But here we were sailing the Spanish Main on a glorious sunny day enjoying the sounds of Wanda's screams. Tits looked different when they're whipped in natural light. Just as there are people who believe vanilla sex is greatly enhanced when carried out in a national park or some outdoor venue, there must be members of the S&M crowd who are outdoor enthusiasts. You could certainly see more clearly in daylight. Wanda proved to be an excellent screamer and a tough bitch that didn't faint until the count reached twenty-five. At that point, one of the crew unceremoniously dumped a bucket of seawater over poor Wanda whose tits were covered with whelps and bleeding stripes. This was a serious hiding I noted. Wanda was missing patches of skin on her breasts.

Contact of open wounds and salt brine are guaranteed to get a slave's attention. The Hellfire Club keeps canisters of sea salt near the whipping posts and benches. I know how it feels to have salt applied to open wounds. It hurts and not a little. Wanda reacted to her dousing with some lusty screams. She stayed alert for the final five. Gregg and Marcus delivered the last strokes right on her twat. The pain associated from a cat-o-nine with Turk's head knots and wielded by a well-muscled man is mind-boggling. If one of the strands lands right on your love button, you wish you'd had a clitectomy. It's a super sensitive grouping of nerve ganglia that has a direct line to the pain center in your medulla oblongata. First thirty over, they doused Wanda again then retied her facing the mast for thirty on the posterior. Wanda's defiance had vanished replaced by earnest pleas for mercy and promises to recommend the vacation to all her friends. It's amazing how thirty lashes with the cat can alter firmly held opinions.

Gregg and Marcus looked hot. They'd shed their shirts and the sweat was glistening on their black flesh. Unconsciously I squeezed my thighs together to give my clit some action. When I glanced around I noticed one of the mothers seated at a nearby table had one hand in her lap jerking herself off. If our patina of civilization kept disappearing at the current rate, we'd be forming up for a circle jerk after breakfast.

Gregg and Marcus went to work with a vengeance on Wanda's back and ass. After ten lashes, it started to take on the look of raw sirloin. That kindled something in me and I walked over to the carving station and asked for a slice of very rare roast beef. I wanted to taste blood as I watched Wanda bleed.

Later when Nurse Rozz took a closer look at Wanda, I saw that the whip had carved some deep grooves in her flesh. Turk's head knots remove little patches of skin after the first few blows. Most of the previous day's whippings aboard the William Blunt were much lighter than Wanda's. Alonzo made an example of her because she had confronted him. Wanda's screams were more croaks this time around. She fainted three times. Each time, the seawater brought her back to a screaming reality. When they released her, she collapsed to the deck begging not to be hurt any more. Second thirty over I thought Alonzo was done with Wanda but he had one more trick up his sleeve.

"Let her ride a hawser," ordered Alonzo.

Most of us had no idea what he meant but from an S&M viewpoint it was pretty neat. Gregg and Marcus threw ropes over a spar that was the part of the main mast where the sails were attached. Leather belts were buckled to her wrists then affixed to the ropes. Crewmen raised her a good ten feet off the deck leaving Wanda swinging like a bloody piñata in the breeze above our head. Gregg climbed up one mast and Marcus another and they rigged a thick rope between two spars. The rope passed between Wanda's legs. They tightened it to where it was resting firmly against her pussy. Her snatch was resting on the rough hemp. How incredibly clever I thought.

When they were done the motion of the ship caused the swinging Wanda to swing back and forth all the while her tender parts being abraded by the hawser. I'd experienced rope straddle on several occasions and it is pure hell. You feel like someone is sandpapering your pussy off. It's worse than being on a wedge or Spanish Donkey and I've known extreme submissives that won't go anywhere near the Spanish Donkey.

"Keep her up there an hour," said Alonzo to Gregg. Then he invited anyone else who wished to complain about their treatment to step forward. There were no takers.

"I need to pee," announced Monique.

I was on my fourth cup of coffee so I could also use a whiz. Sandra announced she needed to go. As it wound up the four Witherows all decided to visit the john together.

Sam had informed me that the front elevated part of the William Blunt was called the focsle, a shortened form of forecastle. It turned out that the facilities were up on the focsle. When we climbed the steps, there was a short line leading to four plastic buckets that afforded zero privacy.

You were expected to squat over a wide mouth bucket and do your business while everyone watched.

"I can't go like that,' whined Monique.

"Yes, you can. Just close your eyes and blank out your surroundings," I said.

Public defecation to my mind is on the leading edge of exhibitionism. Some cultures are more in to watching people piss and shit than others. I know a Japanese man who has over a thousand pictures of girls in their school uniforms squatting to piss on the ground. I love to pee and shit in public. At the Hellfire Club closing the door on your stall is regarded as the sign of a wimp.

"I don't think I can," whimpered Monique.

"Look, there are the Barlow triplets. Which one do you like? I asked. They were in another line. I was trying to distract her.

"Steve, he's the cute one," responded Monique.

The three looked identical to me. I had no idea which one was Steve. But it gave me an idea. I noticed there were several teenage girls having trouble with the idea of squatting over a plastic bucket and taking a dump while twenty people watched.

"I bet Steve would be impressed if you showed him you weren't one of these little ninnies who can't pee with anyone watching," I said.

"You really think so?" asked Monique.

"Definitely, those boys like women who can handle pissing in public," I said.

"I need to do Number 2," said Monique looking panicked.

"That's even better. I'll go first and show you how," I said.

When it came my turn I squatted over the plastic bucket and took a big noisy dump all the while flashing a smile in the direction of the Barlows. I made sure I was several inches above the rim so everyone could see that I was emptying my rectum.

"Your turn. Show them what you're made of," I whispered to Monique as I walked past toward the showers that the crew had set up nearby. Monique proved to be a trooper. She hovered over the bucket dropping small turds in a steady rain all the while grinning in the direction of the Barlow family. As it turned out the next Barlow to bang her cunt was Daddy Dave.

Sandra not to be outdone by her baby sister delivered a dump with a certain amount of panache. The ship's photographer showed up when she squatted and took several shots of my stepdaughter emptying her bowels with a smile on her face.

While I was showering I looked aft and saw Wanda gently swinging in the wind. The hawser was covered in blood where it had rubbed the hide off her cunt. Her thighs were bloody down to her knees. She was wide-eyed and obviously in extreme pain. The wind had picked up and the ship was pitching forward causing her to travel even father than when she first started. Oh well you deserved it I decided as I enjoyed myself watching her writhe each time she traveled a few feet. I spent a little too much time soaping my cunt.

"Witherows," yelled someone as soon as we finished our shower.

When I looked down on the deck, I saw Gregg standing there with a clipboard.

"Here," yelled Sam moving quickly to get us moving toward Gregg. He'd seen what happened to Wanda for failure to comply and didn't want a repeat of the same punishment.

The next half hour was truly bizarre. A very professional tripod mounted camera had been set up and here was a white backdrop.

"We always take the official photos the first day of the voyage," announced Greg. "The first one will be you five with the Captain."

The photographer proceeded to pose the five of us with Alonzo. Sam was shaking his hand and smiling broadly as were the rest of us. Someone might have thought it odd that Alonzo was wearing shorts, shirt and a captain's hat and we were naked. Then there was one of me shaking the Captain's hand. At that point I thought we were done but in truth we were just beginning. The photographer had a list of poses that he had to complete.

"Get down on your knees, Rozz and suck Sam's dick," Gregg casually ordered.

"Huh?" I thought I had misheard him.

"Kneel down, such his cock, get him hard," repeated Gregg.

Everyone got to see Rozz get on her knees and go to work on Sam's tool. Once I had him hard, they took a picture of me sucking his dick. Next it was a shot of me sucking Sam and fisting Carl that was followed immediately by me sucking Carl and fisting Sam. Then Monique and Sandra were brought into the scene to suck first Daddy's pecker and then their brothers. For the next half hour we did just about every permutation of the Witherows having sex with one another imaginable. Carl even got to such his Dad's cock while I held it. The final set involved all five of us sucking and fucking one another. It went fast and I suppose its ultimate purpose was to discourage anyone from complaining to the authorities. You don't go to Interpol and turn someone in if they have a picture of you mouth fucking your daughters and sodimising your son. You take a pass.

After we were done, the next family in reverse alphabetical order was called and we got to watch them pose for their series of incest pictures. The crew had taken Wanda down. Alonzo handed me a first aid kit and instructed me to tend to her. The General must have told him I was a nurse.

While I was tending to Wanda, I saw Monique and Sandra sneaking below deck with the Barlow triplets. Dave Barlow and his wife quietly followed them. Later, Monique told me that Dave and Denise had gone first with her while the triplets had given Sandra her first experience of triple penetration. The Barlows fucked my stepdaughters for several hours. When Gregg called their name for the family photos I had to go looking for them. I found them all curled up together taking a nap.

Wanda's cunt was a bloody mess. The hawser had removed large patches of flesh from the area surrounding her vagina. The tip of her clit looked like it had been sanded off. "She needs some pain management," I told Alonzo after I had cleaned and bandaged her abrasions.

"I have just the thing in my cabin," said Alonzo leaving me.

He returned in five minutes with a Halliburton case containing just about every kind of narcotic I could name. I gave Wanda a couple of 50MG Vicodin that I figured would put her out for a while.

"Picture day always makes me horny," said Alonzo reaching into the case to extract the largest hand rolled joint I had ever seen. He was stroking his cock through his shorts.

"Ganja?" asked Alonzo lighting the joint taking a deep puff then handing it to me.

It was killer cannabis and my head felt it in seconds.

"Blow me Rozz," said Alonzo.

Right there in front of everybody, Captain Rosalind Donaldson, recent widow, fell to her knees extracted Alonzo's super sized pecker and provided oral sex using my best and most watchable techniques. I worked his cock and balls like a Las Vegas hooker and gave him a showgirl finish. I held my mouth open so onlookers could see I took a large load that I swallowed in a highly visible fashion. There were some ohs and ahs from the crowd when I gulped it down.

Alonzo cleaned his dick off in my hair. That's always a nice touch. When I stood up wiping my mouth with the back of my hand all eyes were on me. I love perform lewd acts for an audience.

It took the rest of the day to complete the photo sessions. Lunch was a deli style make your own sandwich affair followed by dessert where you constructed an ice cream Sunday to your taste. The teens loved that. Dinner was sea bass or steak. Sam was definitely right about the food.

Alonzo made a command decision to take photos of Wanda's family at a later date.

Chapter 31 – Teen Amusements

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

"Suck the left nipple hard, hard as you can. Make them beg you to stop," blared the bullhorn. I looked down at the top of Monique head as she applied suction to my port side bud. I watched as her cheeks hollowed and felt intense pain as she drew my bud into her mouth. Jesus, the little cunt was trying to suck it right off my tit. I could feel it stretching getting longer. The pain slowly grew until I couldn't stand it. The fact that my boobs had been mercilessly whipped for the last hour made them super sensitive.

"You're sucking my nipple off, stop please," I pleaded. That only encouraged Monique to redouble her efforts. Nineteen other moms were also pleading with their teenage sons and daughters to stop. The dads were in the same condition. Men have sworn to me that their nipples are just as susceptible to pain as a woman's.

It was mid morning on our third full day. We were anchored off some island. A group of five local woman dressed in full dominatrix gear had arrived by powerboat as we were finishing breakfast. This turned out to be femdom day in Alonzo's busy schedule of planned activities for our cruise.

The second night in the slave hold had gone pretty much as the first except there was more organized swapping around of partners. It was only toward dawn that I finally got to sleep. For college types who you associate with a sedentary lifestyle they were showing a surprising amount of energy. At my suggestion, the Witherows started off with a family fuck. Both Monique and Sandra joined the 'I've fucked my daddy' club. They seemed genuinely thrilled as Sam eased his cock into their holes. In their minds, it had as much to do with coming of age as it did with sexual desire.

"I'm a woman now. My daddy diddled me," was how Sandra and Monique would have characterized it. It made me wonder whether it was something they would tell their best friends when they got home. I also wondered that having given Daddy a piece of tail would they continue the favor back in Boston. They showed genuine enthusiasm when Sam was pounding their holes. They humped their little bottoms up to meet his plunging pecker just like they envisioned their mother doing. Sandra and Monique were quite competitive about it. Each one intent on besting the other in giving Daddy a good screwing.

As soon as Sam emptied his dick in Sandra, Monique and I used our mouths to get him hard again. I showed Monique the basics of ass play. She proved an apt pupil surrounding her daddy's pucker with her lips and forcing her tongue inside while topside I administered long slow sucks that started at his piss hole and ended when I snaked my tongue over his balls. Sam lay there moaning loudly to encourage his youngest to penetrate his anus with her pink little tongue.

Carl alternated his cock between my pussy and ass while his sister and I administered orally to Daddy. Sandra watched and played with her clit all the while sucking off one of the fathers who appeared out of the dark with a hard on. He didn't have to say a word. He put Sandra's hand on his erection and my pudgy little stepdaughter opened her mouth and got down to business. Sandra swallowed his jism like a pro.

I finally recalled what the below deck scene on the William Blunt reminded me of. Last year Trace and I got leave together and flew off to Amsterdam for the weekend. Some friends of the Donaldson's took us to a very private sex club. It was a multi-story facility. First floor was a lounge and dance floor. It almost looked like a normal club but the fact that the women occasionally dived under the tables to suck cock and women stroked their partner's dicks as they slow danced indicated it was something beyond that. I thought it was pretty hot when Rolfe that was the husband of our hosts hiked my skirt up on the dance floor and stuck both hands inside my panty. He played with my ass as we slow danced. Hilda his wife was under the table sucking Trace's cock. They were very hospitable.

Second floor was an S&M facility but our hosts were not into the lifestyle so we skipped that. Third floor contained a swimming pool, hot tub and something called the 'grope room'. Trace and I with Rolfe and Hilda decided to visit that. You strip naked and entered a totally dark room where the floor is covered with mattress like padding. You got down on your hands and knees and crawled around feeling, sucking, and fucking people that you couldn't' see. The total anonymity made it incredibly erotic. No visual concerns about age or body type just pure focused sex. I fucked fat and thin, young and old, man and woman. I loved the place.

The slave's deck on the William Blunt was like that. Once night fell, a man or woman could seek indiscriminate sexual congress. The darkness made forbidden sex including incest possible. Men genetically engineered to be hunters and predators had sensed the possibilities first but the women were not far behind. The slave hold became a seething mass of human sexuality where you could get your rocks off with total strangers. Of course, family members recognized one another but that did not seem to matter. They pretended it was anonymous.

Carl did sloppy seconds with sister Sandra while I worked his asshole open with three fingers all the while working Sam's cock to get it hard for his youngest. I massaged Carl's prostate while he pounded his Johnson inside Sandra's love tunnel. Sandra makes the cutest little cooing sounds while she is being fucked. Carl screwed both of them in a sweet brotherly fashion while once again I sucked Sam back to tumescence. I filled the role of 'fluffer' for my stepdaughters and faux husband. Sam drilled Monique who insisted Sam switch to anal just to prove she could take it just like a big girl.

It all made me wonder what they were going to tell the little woman back home about their trip. If you left out the fucking there wasn't much to tell.

After the family sex was done, Sam showed some enterprise informing me that while on the upper deck he had made a deal to swap our kids for another family's. Carl, Sandra, and Monique were dispatched to the Eversoles in return for Judd, Mark, Cindy, and Rose. I complemented Sam on achieving a three for four swap.

"Ken Eversole was hot for Monique. And his wife Doris was interested in Carl and Sandra," said Sam.

I still couldn't fathom how these middle class well-educated academic types had so quickly abandoned even the pretense of normal sexual behavior. These were PTA people who espoused liberal causes, opposed the death penalty, supported abortion rights, etc. The fact that they were making deals to trade their children for sexual purposes was mind boggling to say the least.

Judd and Mark turned out to be energetic youths who could drop a load in my orifices one minute and be ready to start again three minutes later. I was in the mood to eat ass and Judd had the perfect rosebud for it. I sucked and slobbered over his butthole while Mark worked on mine. Ass play was new to the boys and I got to teach them the basics of how to suck jism out of a step mom's brown hole. They held my cheeks apart so they could form an airtight connection around my anal ring. When their tongue opened my anus and I felt them creating a slight vacuum inside my rectum I pushed out a couple of tablespoons of shit flavored jism. I instructed them not to swallow right away so we could do some tongue kissing swapping the brown goop around.

"Awesome," was Mark's judgment after he had swallowed a mouthful of triple S: salvia, shit and semen. I find passing esoteric sexual knowledge on to the next generation personally rewarding. It was also fulfilling especially when I taught the boys how to perform a DP on me. The fact that I was an Ass To Mouth mom impressed them.

Sam and I started out straight me with the boys and he with the girls. After an hour or two we went homosexual. Men just love to bugger young boys. It's a daddy thing to have your hands firmly clutching their skinny flanks as your pound that big dick up their tight little holes. The way Judd and Mark groaned and squeaked as Sam's schlong stretched their anus was adorable to me and enjoyable for Sam.

The two girls and I formed a daisy chain. Both of their fourteen year old pussies had seen a lot of recent action and nobody was showering or douching. We're talking hardcore cunt sucking. The kind you get at a three in the morning at a swinger's party. I sucked Sam's cum out of their pussies while they lapped their brother's out of mine. It was late when our own kids returned and the Eversole's departed. I enjoyed the peaceful slumber of the sexually satisfied for several hours.

But sometime near dawn I felt a small warm body climb between my legs. A skinny dick parted my labia attempting to get a piece of tail off Mother Rozz. Some of the younger boys had not gotten their growth spurt and were still in the ninety-pound range. Feeling his small body squirming around on me desperately trying to work his dick into a grown woman's cunt brought out my maternal instinct.

"Does Mama's boy want some pussy," I cooed in his ear as I wrapped my arms around him. I gently stuck the tip of my tongue in his ear and licked the opening of his auditory canal.

"Yes," responded a voice that had just begun to deepen.

"Momma wants to suck your penis first," I whispered rearranging our bodies. "Lick Momma's pussy."

We did oral for a few minutes before I felt him blow his boy load in my mouth. He did a reasonable job of working my clit so I orgasmed at the same time.

"Oh that was wonderful. You're a terrific lover," I said as I felt his peter start to jerk.

"I'm going to shoot," he whispered.

I swallowed some very sweet tasting semen gently squeezing his balls to get the last drops of boy juice.

"Just stay still, let Momma get you hard again with her mouth," I said as soon as I swallowed.

Working his little rosebud with a wet finger he was erect in no time. Like a good mother I helped him get his penis in my vagina.

"Suck my nipples," I told him and he instantly complied.

I wrapped his small body in my arms and slowly humped him. I held him closely tickling his little butthole with my index finger until he put his second load in my hole.

"Thanks, Momma," said the boy. We kissed passionately before he disappeared into the gloom. It was one of the sweetest sexual experiences I'd ever had.

Being confined on a small ship can get boring quickly that's why Alonzo had numerous activities planned. After breakfast, Alonzo introduced the five dominatrices who would be instructing the children in S&M. They would be using their parents to train on. Some of the parents looked like they wanted to object but one look at the damage that the whip and hawser had done to Wanda made them think twice.

"They're going to let us whip you," said Sandra looking pleased with the idea. Why not I thought. How many teenagers in America would love to strip their mom and dad naked then string them up for a good lashing.

The crew had already prepared by hanging ropes over the spars. Sam and I could barely touch the deck with the balls of our feet when moments later the two of us were suspended by our arms. When I looked around I saw Gregg and Marcus on the focsle operating two professional looking video cameras. I wondered if we were going to be able to buy a copy of the DVD before the voyage was over. All during the morning, a crewman with a still camera circulated around taking shots of we parents getting the shit whipped out of them by the youngsters.

The instructors had brought several large storage containers. They opened one and handed each teen a ridding crop. The largest families were the Barlows and Eversoles with four children. The dominatrices reorganized the teens until there was roughly one child for each mom and dad. Sandra joined Lucinda's family leaving Carl and Monique to work on Sam and me.

And work they did.

"Spare the rod and spoil the parent," was the dominatrix leader's slogan. Her name was Liza and she was a fearsome looking bitch. The lessons were well organized. Trudy, a tall black woman in an amazingly tight leather corset started Carl off with my armpits that were nicely stretched over my head. It's a hyper sensitive area that hurts like hell when the leather flap on the end of a ridding crop is landed with all the force a muscular fifteen year old can muster. Monique was busy testing her dad's pain threshold. Trudy showed Carl the exact place to land the crop right on top of the lymph nodes. Moms and Dads were screaming, pleading, and even threatening their progeny if they didn't stop.

"If your parents threaten you, tell your instructor immediately," blared Liza through her bullhorn.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the boys say something to his teacher. The teacher promptly uncoiled the bullwhip hanging from her waist. She walked over to the boy's mother and said something to her. The woman desperately shook her head no. Liza invited all the parents to watch what happened to anyone who threatened a teen with retribution. The instructor stepped back, unlimbered the whip and delivered five rapid blows to each of the woman's armpits. Mom proved that hurt like all hell by screaming her lungs out. Threats of retribution ended after that demonstration. The woman's bruised and bloody armpits started to swell to where it looked she had a softball in each pit.

Armpit lesson over, Carl and the others moved to tits then lower abdomen followed by several solid blows right on my cunt. Sam did a little dance when Monique slammed his balls with the crop. Carl got behind me reached down to grab my ankle and bent my leg back so he could work on the soles of my feet. That hurt like all hell.

I did my share of screaming. Several of the Mom's were in hysterics and a couple of fathers had broken down weeping. S&M isn't for everybody. The kids seemed to be enjoying it though. My body was on fire with pain.

Ridding crops were stowed in their bins and out came a shorter single strand whip called a tawse. Monique and Carl switched parent. There is certain viciousness about a good tawse. Monique proved well coordinated. She showed remarkable skill at landing the tip exactly where she wanted it. One blow almost took my nipple off. I have a tight muscular lower abdomen that the tawse was ideal for. I screamed at the top of my lungs when Monique placed the tip an inch below my belly button. Trudy showed Monique how to attack my inner thigh. That sent me dancing around the deck like Gregory Hines on speed.

Floggers were next. Liza gave a short lecture of the cat-o-nine. She showed the kids several different variations ranging from the one that the Roman's used to scourge Christ to more modern versions where the strands are made from nylon. She used me to demonstrate a replica of the cat used in the British Navy by Captain Bligh. I screamed lustily as the brutal instrument carved lines of agony across my body.

Liza explained about Turk's head knots and why they were so effective at stripping of the outer layer of the epidermis. I was pleasantly surprised by the attention the teens paid to the instructor's words. You would have thought they were learning answers to questions found on the SAT test.

Carl flogged the living hell out of me ten on the front and ten on the back. I was dizzy, drooling and feeling faint when he was done. Several parents had passed out, puked or both. There was a liberal use of buckets of seawater to revive unconscious parents.

"Up and down the body, never the same place twice in a row," intoned Liza to her acolytes.

When Carl finished, he poured a bucket of seawater over me. He'd opened enough seams in my hide for the salt to take effect and I danced around screaming for several minutes before the pain receded.

"The English always excelled at caning," announced Liza handing out highly flexible canes to her students.

"Don't you just love the ways it sounds," said Monique demonstrating the whirring sound a cane makes when you pass it rapidly through the air. That is a terrifying noise if ever there was one.

"The object is to make it difficult for your parent to sit down without remembering the caning you gave them," declared Liza.

The parents were given five on the boobs and five on the butt. Several parents lost bladder control and pissed themselves. It is the sharpest of pains when a rattan cane lands on your buttocks. You want to grab your ass cheeks, leap ten feet in the air and howl one second after the cane lands. Most of the parents were earnestly begging their children to stop after the first two strokes.

"Right before we go on break, we're going to practice scatological humiliation," announced Liza.

We parents were lowered to the deck but not untied. Trudy showed up to stick two pieces of hard rubber between my back teeth forcing my mouth wide open. I guessed correctly I was about to swallow some piss.

"Grab them by the hair to they can't turn away," advised Liza.

Carl knelt down straddling my face and pointing his pecker at my open mouth. His hand firmly clinched my hair.

"Piss half a bladder then swap parents," said Liza.

The upshot was that both Monique and Carl pissed in Sam and my mouth. Around me parents were retching up their breakfast but Sam managed to keep everything down. This is pretty damn hardcore I thought as I licked the inside of my mouth savoring the taste of urine.

Liza declared break time. A crewman issued we adults a cold bottle of mineral water. Somebody had wheeled out a refrigerator cart and the boys and girls were making selections from an offering of Dove Bars, Klondike's, Nutty Buddy and other ice cream confections.

"Are you a step mom too?" asked one of the younger prettier wives who was nearest me. I recalled her name was Deirdre. She did appear to have been ridden hard and put away wet. Her boobs were stripped like a barber poll and there were drops of blood seeping out of some cuts left by the whip. Her hair glistened with drying urine and her chest was covered with vomit. She looked beyond miserable.

"Yes, I'm a stepmother," I replied.

"Do your step children hate you?"

"No, I don't think so," I replied. Actually mine didn't know me well enough to hate me.

"Alan and Carrie hate me for taking their father away," said Deirdre. "Look what the little bitch did to my bottom."

There were five red pulsing bleeding stripes on Deirdre's ass. Carrie must have put her heart and soul into that five plus every foot-pound of energy her strong young body could muster. I considered the fact that a child could take advantage of the situation to extract a measure of revenge. Make me clean my room take that you bitch.

Crewmen hosed us off with seawater making us painfully aware of the multitude of whip cuts covering our torso. Break over it was time for toys. The proper application of nipple clamps was Lesson One. That was the reason that Monique was attempting to remove my nipple using suction. Monique sucked my nipple to a good half-inch then caught the tip in her front teeth and pulled hard as she allowed the jagged teeth of the alligator clamp to bite down on my nubbin. She caught it right at the base. Several drops of bright red blood immediately appeared. Next the little sweetheart did something that surprised me. She looked around to make sure no one was watching then quickly licked some of the blood off my knocker. The child was definitely S&M. I wondered if years from now I'd wonder in to a club and find Monique carving swastikas into some housewife's boobs with a rusty bottle cap. Maybe I decided.

The breast clamps came with a one-pound weight that added to the misery. Each dad discovered how a five-pound ball stretcher felt when it was applied to your sack. Fathers emerged from the day with low hangers. Dads also got a large paper clamp applied to the very tip of their pecker, ouch, ouch, ouch.

Trudy showed Carl how to apply five clothespins on a string to both my armpits and a ten pin ones to my inner thighs. The coup de main was when Monique stuffed a large dildo adorned with hard rubber spikes into my vagina and rotated it three hundred and sixty degrees. Something of equal brutality was placed in each daddy's ass.

Deirdre was screaming so loud I glanced in her direction. Her stepdaughter Kim was rotating the dildo while her stepson Larry was doubling up on the clothespins. Somehow Kim had applied the nipple clamps to catch most of Deirdre's areola. Her tits were really bleeding.

Liza then called her students together to watch a one-hour film of an actual torture session held in a South American prison. A large television had been set on the ships aft using a sail for an awning. Carl told me about it later. The federal police had captured two young American couples smuggling cocaine and were applying the type of justice normally meted out to transgressors in those countries. It must have been fast paced since in a single hour it covered gang rape, bestial rape by dogs, electrical torture, whippings, brandings, sexual mutilation, and some more esoteric forms of torture such as forcing seltzer water up a person's nose.

"It was so cool," said Monique when I asked her if she enjoyed the film. "They cut both girls nipples off and made them eat them."

Based on their review I wondered if the General had the DVD in his extensive collection. I'd like to watch it.

Of course that meant we parents got to suffer for a full hour. Film over the kids removed the toys in the order that Liza called out over the bullhorn. They did it quickly and in unison so the screams of the parents formed a crescendo. That was a nice touch of showmanship and provided a big finale. If you ever want to learn what is the loudest you can scream have someone put ten strong clothespins in the soft flesh of your inner thigh, leave them there for an hour then grab the end of the string and jerk all ten off at once.

Lesson over, we were released and untied. The dominatrices packed up and departed. Two large powerboats arrived to take the children off to a nearby deserted beach for a picnic. There was going to be a DJ and the kids could dance. Several cases of ice-cold Red Stripe beer were waiting for them.

The crew set up chaises and loungers on the main deck and we exhausted and sore parents drug ourselves to them. Sam and I lay together naked on a double chaise catching our breath. A crewman handed everyone an ice-cold rum punch. After a few minutes, Sam spoke.

"There is one good thing you can say about this trip," said Sam.

"What's that?" I replied.

"It's broadening the children's horizons. They're experiencing things that other boys and girls their age don't get to."

"True, how many children their age get a four hour education in sado-masochism as part of a carefully thought out program?" I said.

We adults chatted and drank as we soaked up the afternoon sun. It was nice not having the kids around for a change. The rum punch reduced the soreness to acceptable levels. Towards dusk, the crew set up Twister and I played. Naked Twister is a real icebreaker. You wind up with somebody's sex in your face and I can never resist the temptation to go oral. I screwed one of the dads right there on the Twister mat while everyone watched. I was too drunk to recall which one he was. I do recall he had a good-sized pecker and it had a banana curve that worked my G-spot. Funny the things we remember.

Chapter 32 – Gender Bias

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

The townspeople lining the main street cheered as Alonzo and crew lead us through the five blocks that constituted the main thoroughfare of whatever town it was. Sandra and Monique were practically glued to my hips as we were marched naked through the cheering throng.

"Girls, square your shoulders, stick out your boobs and walk proudly," I whispered. The exhibitionist in me loved the idea of hundreds of pairs of eyes staring at my body.

"Why are they taking out picture?" asked Sandra feeling shy before the many onlookers who were snapping photos of forty women and girls being marched nude down the main street of their town.

I thought back to film from the waning days of World War II. It was part of the General's collection. Someone had put together a DVD depicting the fate of females and a few males who had collaborated with the German occupation forces. It was mostly grainy black and white footage of naked women being marched through angry crowds. Their heads had been shaved. People from the crowd would leap out to beat and kick them. Most had already been pretty badly beaten. I gathered that French girls who developed romantic relationships with German soldiers were particular targets. Having your head shaved, getting the piss beat out of you and being marched through an angry mob seemed a high price for giving a soldier a piece of tail but then again we're talking about the French and we all know what a pain in the ass they can be.

Given that we were all white and the crowd was universally black there was an air of uncertain menace about it. However the mood was definitely upbeat.

"Nice tits, woman," yelled somebody.

When I looked in that direction, I saw a young man aiming a camcorder toward the girls and me.

"Smile at the man and show him your tits," I said to Sandra and Monique gesturing toward the man.

They surprised me by obeying instantly especially Monique who I had figured as a slut in training.

"Those are your girls?" questioned the man all the while keeping the camera working.

"I'm their step mother," I replied.

"Very pretty, very pretty, I'll do all there of you. It's for a good cause," said the man before disappearing into the crowd.

I had no idea what he was talking about.

It was about 10:00 in the morning when the ship reached our destination. The island had a harbor deep enough to accommodate the William Blunts draft so the ship was able to dock. The men were placed on a rickety old school bus and driven off while we girls were marched off toward the town.

That night Sam and Carl told me what a great day they had. The bus had taken them to a half decent golf course beside the ocean. They were given the choice of relaxing on the beach or playing a round of golf.

"I'd never played golf naked," said Sam matter of factly before adding, "Did you know the Barlow's were naturalists?"

I hadn't known that but how would I have other than asking Dave Barlow while he and his sons were screwing me. The previous night Sam had sent me to the Barlows in exchange for Dave's wife Denise. Below deck wife and mother swapping was the order of the day as we mom's moved to a new brood for part of the evening. The Barlow triplets were a rough bunch who fucked in a pack. You leaned pretty quickly that they loved to stick it up your ass then haul it out so you could lick your own shit off it. Monique showed up half way through the evening. She's snuck off in hopes of enjoying the triplet's version of triple penetration. But before the boys climbed her ass, Daddy Dave got to lay on his back with Monique impaled on his peter and bounce her up and down until he painted the walls of her vagina with his magic elixir. Monique allowed all the Barlow males to fuck her so she could pump Steve the one she had a crush on.

I ate Tracy Barlow their daughter to climax while her daddy and brothers screwed Monique. I gathered from chatting with Tracy between fucks that prior to the voyage the triplets had made a practice of screwing their older sister.

"The first time was in the laundry room. Dad was at work and Mom was grocery shopping. I was about to run a wash when the three of them came in and raped me right there on the floor. They're so strong and there were three of them. They pulled my clothes off and each took a turn. I was fourteen and they were thirteen," said Tracy when we were chatting about the trip and the mad sexual goings on.

"Did you tell Denise about it?" I asked wondering if there were any reliable statistics on the number of sisters raped by their brothers. Certainly brothers are the ones with opportunity. Not having a brother to rape me when I was growing up was one of my life long regrets.

"Yes, she told me not to say a word about it to Daddy and never speak of it again," said Tracy.

"And what happened next?" I asked.

"It became a regular thing until they got tired of me," said Tracy. "Sometimes I miss it. I felt very close to them after all of them had screwed me and I could feel their semen leaking out of my pussy." The way she said it was kind of wistful like in future years Tracy would encounter a set of male triplets and her pussy would start to need attention.

"And your dad? When did he first get a piece?"

"Not until the other night when he found me humping away underneath your husband Sam. After they had a little fun with Sam and Carl, Dad and the triplets are such bullies, he laid me out on the deck and fucked me good and proper," said Tracy.

When I was done with the Barlows and on my knees crawling back to the Witherows I met Denise heading in the opposite direction.

"How about we mothers enjoying one another for a change?" I asked as I put my hand on her tit and kissed her lips. Denise returned the kiss then climbed underneath me for a sixty-nine.

Denise and I ate each other to a noisy climax that was highly satisfying but had the effect of attracting a pair of horny dads who insisted on a piece of ass before we could go. Actually as soon as Denise and I quite writhing about, they pulled us apart and hopped on board without asking whether we were interested in fucking them. However, Denise and I being nurturing and giving types wrapped our legs around our anonymous assailants and fucked them nice and slow until they reared up and blew one more load into our already overworked snatches.

If I had known what was going to occur the next day, I probably would have pursued a course that placed less wear and tear on my vagina.

So while the men and boys were off golfing and enjoying the beach that included the presence of a number of young native boys and girls who lived on the island and were perfectly willing to sneak into the palmettos for a round of heterosexual or homosexual sex depending on the tourist's preference.

"I sodomised several of the boys and fucked two girls," was how Sam summed up his accomplishments to his exhausted and sore daughters and myself that night after we had returned to the William Blunt.

"Dad and I shared a girl then we shared her brother. That was neat," added Carl. "I also shot eleven over par. Dad was thirteen over."

I never did get an opportunity to ask Alonzo why the males had such a relaxing pleasant day while we females had anything but.

Being paraded naked through town was the first sign that things would not turn out well. As I've said before. I'm an exhibitionist who often fantasized about being naked in front of crowds. But most of the women who had gotten used to nudity in the confines of ships crew and fellow tourists were not prepared to be marched nude through several hundred strangers. They seemed anxious as hell and the catcalls and yells of the crowd combined with the rampant photo taking did not make them any less nervous.

But there was no choice and how long does it take to walk a few blocks anyway. We passed out of town and right into a small soccer stadium. Of course no soccer stadium it truly small. There were wooden stands on both sides of the field and they were reasonably crowded, becoming even fuller as the townspeople who had followed us flowed into the facility and took their seats.

Alonzo ordered us to pass single file past a table where several things happened. As we reached the table, one of the women used a two-inch brush to paint a number on our stomach and back in large block letters. Since we Witherows were near the front of the line, Sandra was seven, Monique eight and yours truly nine. The lady doing the painting put a small dash at the bottom to unsure that there would be no confusion with six in case I was upside down.

The fact that there were two soccer teams out in the field warming up struck me as strange. As soon as we had been numbered and issued a small cloth bag and a kitchen timers the kind where you crank a knob to a certain number of minutes and a bell sounds when the time expire, Alonzo gathered us in a group and issued our instructions.

"Do not fuck anyone unless he hands you one of these with your number on it," said Alonzo holding up a three by five card with the number five on it.

"What's this all about, Captain?" demanded Wanda demonstrating she was a slow learner or liked having the shit whipped out of her. For a minute I thought Alonzo was going to let her do another pussy dance on a rope but he just smiled and laughed.

"The first thing I am going to do once we get started is purchase two of the number twenty two tickets. Twenty-two was painted fore and aft on little Wanda. That occasioned some nervous laughter. Alonzo continued his explanation.

"We are very lucky to be here at this time. The town you just passed through is having its most important soccer competition with a nearby island. Their rivalry goes back many years. The proceeds of the game provide scholarships for the brightest and most worthy students from both islands to attend a good college in the United States. You will be helping to raise even more money in hopes of doubling the number of students."

"Helping how?" asked Wanda showing a lack of perception that I found surprising since she taught American Literature at Brandeis University.

"For the sum of $2, anyone can purchase ten minutes of your time," said Alonzo with a big smile on his face.

"Ten minutes to do what?" demanded the intellectually challenged Wanda.

"Suck, fuck, jack off, whatever the person wants," said Alonzo seemingly surprised that we were not fully conversant with what was planned. The fact that none of us had ever provided sex for money seemed to have escaped him.

"$2, that's all?" said one of the women in a tone of disbelief. The lowly amount hurt our pride. We had been fucked by so many men and boys so many times in the last few days, the prospect of having another cock in our hole was not exactly daunting. But the idea of only being worth $2 was to say the least disheartening.

"This a poor island and while $2 may not sound like much to a rich American it is a day's pay for cutting sugar cane," said Alonzo.

Being Liberals the urge not to exploit the less fortunate overcame our reservations that we were prostituting ourselves for $2 a pop.

"Now for the first period, odd numbers will go to the visitor's side of the field and even will stay on this side. That meant Monique was staying and Sandra and I were traveling. Gregg marched us to the other side of the field.

"Take a cardboard sign, fold it in the middle so it can stand up and write your number on both sides," directed Gregg when we reached the other side of the stadium. We had to share a couple of Magic Markers. I dutifully folded the large piece of corrugated in two and wrote a nine on each side.

"This is just too bizarre," announced Sandra as she very carefully drew a seven then held it up for me to approve.

"Excellent, are you going to be okay with this?" I asked responding to my maternal instincts.

"Oh sure, they're just going to fuck us," said Sandra in her newly adopted woman of the world voice.

"Well, there is a lot of them and they look excited," I said looking at the bleachers where several hundred maybe more horny males were giving us the eye.

"Grab a mat from the pile," ordered Gregg as soon as we had made our signs. I took one of the thin pallets as I passed the pile. Greg lined us up in numerical order on the ground behind the player's bench. Denise Barlow was number one. Sandra was on my right with seven and the woman who had inquired whether I was also a step mom during the S&M training session was eleven. Her name was Deirdre. She had barely spoken to me since I had mistakenly screwed her husband on the main deck while everyone watched. He turned out to be the one whose banana cock found its way into my mouth during a game of Naked Twister. I don't know why she was so torqued at me. I couldn't very well have refused him a fuck after I had sucked his dick. Some people are so insensitive.

Out on the field the two teams were shaking hands and the referees were issuing final instructions. There was a table in front of us and two local women were busy selling numbers to a long line of prospective lovers.

"We're going to get screwed but no one is going to buy us dinner," I said to Deirdre making her smile.

"The last thing I did for charity was to bake forty-eight dozen chocolate chip cookies for a bake sale at Sarah's school," said Deirdre.

"Okay, ladies take your position," announced Gregg.

I laid down on the mat spread my legs slightly. I licked two fingers and began to slowly rub my clit. The women around me imitated my actions. I attributed that to the fact that the US Army had trained me to be a leader.

I head a whistle sound indicating the game had started. A young man approached the bottom of my pallet, handed me a card with the number nine printed in large type.

"Half and half?" I queried reaching for the zipper on his trousers.

"What?" he asked.

"Suck your cock first then fuck," I offered pulling down the zipper. I wasn't the only one anxious to get started. Sandra was already slurping away at the cock of a young man. I was a little surprised at the number of males who were standing in line ready to hand over some hard earned US currency for the opportunity to publicly screw middle class white females who for the most part were not exactly built like Pamela Anderson. Given that there were plenty of native females about from whom sex was available for the asking.

My explanation was that to them we were exotic. They could climb on a black sister any time but the opportunity to stick the meat to a rich white American did not come along every day.

Dog style turned out to be most preferred position. It also allowed them to look over our backs and watch the game.

My first 'date' was pounding away when he told me to turn my head to the right and smile. There was a young woman focusing a camera on us.

"Who's that?" I asked.

"That's my wife, Senora," said the man keeping a steady rhythm of driving his cock in my pussy. Throughout the afternoon, family members took pictures of their male relatives having sex with us. Their lack of inhibitions was amazing. How many American males could get hard and plow a pussy while their mother, father, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, etc looked on.

There was the occasion truly odd moment like when I looked over and saw Sandra unzipping the trousers of a very old man who was leaning on his cane while his equally ancient wife offered encouragement and moral support. Another group of what I took to be relatives stood close by.

"What's your name, darling, and how old are you?" asked the elderly wife.

"Sandra, I'm fourteen," said Sandra before passing her tongue over grandfather's prick.

"Did you hear that Roy, Sandra's fourteen just like Simon's girl, Michelle," said the woman gesturing toward her relatives where there was a young girl that I took to be Michelle.

That made me wonder if grandfather had ever taken a poke at Michelle.

"Hold still a minute daddy, I want a picture," said Simon's wife who proceeded to take a couple of snaps of Sandra sucking a man easily old enough to be her grandfather.

Grandfather turned out to be too old for anything other than for Sandra to mount him and fuck away. Sandra was working hard but getting a man that old to blow his load is always an iffy proposition.

"I'll have to help," said Grandmother who only managed to kneel down with the aid of Simon and wife. She wet a couple of fingers and stuck them up Roy's ass. After a few more strokes, Roy climaxed. Sandra gave the elderly gentleman a kiss as she helped him and his wife to their feet. Then Sandra pulled a tissue from the box and wiped the jism out of her pussy. Somehow I thought that was a very poetic scene, a young girl reaching between her legs to wipe up the excess semen that was dribbling out of her cunt as her eighty year old lover hobbled away on his cane. On the field a highly competitive soccer game was underway. It had a certain Normal Rockwell quality.

My odd moment occurred when I looked up to find a mother handing me a nine card. She was holding the hand of a young boy.

"This is my boy Marvin, you be his first," said the woman. Marvin was acting shy trying to hide behind his mother's legs. He was young. I had no idea how young. The laws are different on those Caribbean islands.

"Hello Marvin, my name is Rozz," I said reaching my hand out to him.

"Marvin, say hello to the pretty American woman who is going to give you your first piece of pussy," spoke the boy's mother.

"Hello Rozz, are you from America?" asked Marvin who was quite a handsome child.

"Yes, Boston in America," I replied.

"Let's get your pants down. The lady does not have all day and there are others waiting," said Mom referring to the line behind her.

For a young boy, Marvin was packing a decent roll of meat and I went to work on it.

"Now, doesn't that feel good, Marvin. You be a lucky boy to have such a pretty white girl to suck your dick first time," commented Mom who was right there kneeling beside Marvin while I went to work.

Marvin was erect in no time. I rolled on to my back anxious to let Marvin get it in before he blew his load. From my high school days, I knew the tendency of inexperienced males to shoot when they came within a yard of pussy. Mom leaned in to grab Marvin's cock and help him guide into my vagina. Once he's slid inside, I wrapped my legs around his small skinny body and started humping.

Marvin lasted two minutes maybe three before he released. He looked distressed that it had ended so soon but Momma was very supportive.

"Oh, what a big boy you are, Marvin. You did just as well as your daddy would," said Mom. I suppose that mean Daddy wasn't a marathon man.

"You were terrific, Marvin," I added giving him a kiss.

"Tell Rozz thank you," said Mom.

"Thank you, Rozz," said Marvin.

"Now we can walk around and you can pick out a white girl your own age," said Mom as they got to their feet to leave.

It was non-stop fucking at ten minutes or less a whack. Actually I'm not sure anybody lasted ten minutes. I quit setting the kitchen timer after a while.

First period ended with the home team in the lead 1-0. We odd numbered prostitutes for charity swapped sides of the field with the even. We had to carry our cardboard signs with us and set up in front of the home crowd.

"You okay?" I asked Monique as we passed.

"Yeah, I'm fine," was her reply that communicated I'm a big girl now and I can handle a little gang fucking.

I wanted to say that I was just checking how she was after two and a half hours of non-stop sex but I let it pass. I suppose one could conclude that if you confront the average female with the certainty that she is going to have to service a long line of men that she'll adopt an attitude of laissez-faire and enjoy it as best as she can. No one was being beaten or slapped. In my experience American women enjoy sex more than they are willing to admit. It's not considered ladylike to tell all your friends how much you love having a cock in your holes. You're supposed to say it's only wonderful if that cock belongs to someone special. Down in the William Blunt's slave deck, you had no idea if the cock belonged to someone special or your brother but it still felt damn good.

No one's ego had been too bruised by being left out. The lines for each femme were pretty equal, surprising in that a few of the mothers and daughters could stand to lose a few pounds. I can honestly say I learned something about human nature that day.

On the home team side, it was the same non-stop fucking with family and friends taking pictures, making comments, and offering suggestions as twenty white woman and girls faced never ending lines of males.

We didn't change sides at the end of the second period. The game was now tied 1-1. Finally the lines started to thin out. Customers had started to switch to our assholes. My cunt had seen one too many cocks to retain its elasticity. I was loose. You could have stuck a bowling ball in my cunt and it would have rolled out.

Many of the last period customers had consumed too many Red Stripes and fucked too much to blow their load in a reasonable period. Discipline and organization broke down. Some of the men wandered from pallet to pallet hammering it home for a few strokes then moving to the next free girl. I got in the doggy position with my butt in the air and watched the game as guys got off and off my ass. I didn't even bother to see who it was. I just humped my bottom against whoever was back there and sounded encouraging moans.

The game ended in a tie. Intercourse ceased as the crowd watched the teams play the tiebreaker. The home team eventually won which occasioned a great deal of celebrating but no sex. Frankly the crowd looked pretty worn out to me.

I thought we were done for the day but Alonzo informed us that he had offered us gratis to the players and coaches. That required we odd numbered women to walk to the home team locker room that was pretty primitive even by the standard of my high school. But it did have a large shower room with hot water. The shower revived us somewhat. The soccer plays were cuties and for once there were as many of us as there were of them.

We showered, sucked cock, and got fucked on the benches. It was a good ending to what had been an interesting and challenging day. Alonzo mellowed somewhat by bringing the school bus to the stadium and giving us a ride back to the wharf.

We politely informed the men that we were way too exhausted to screw and they were to leave us alone. Between golf, the beach and buggering the local boy and girls the men were tired too. I curled up between Sandra and Monique and fell sound asleep for twelve hours.

Chapter 33 – Cutting Cane

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

"She's juicy. We'll take them," said Wynona Mapes who happened to have two of her long thin fingers in my twat working my G-spot while her thumb didled my clit. That may have been the first time I had been chosen for something based on my overactive Bartholin glands.

Of course I was juicy. Wynona's fingers were practically whipping up froth. A strange woman was stimulating both nerve centers that our cosmic inventor had placed there to make whores of all we women who would otherwise been good girls. Without them I might be in India helping Mother Theresa feed the starving or care for lepers. But with them I was just anther slut pressing my sex into Wynona's hand wishing she would never stop.

With that remark, Wynona selected the Witherows to work on her family's sugar cane plantation. I was the last of the family to be evaluated. She'd hefted Sam and Carl's cock, made a favorable comment to her husband, Ellis, indicating they were satisfactory then stuck her fingers in Sandra and Monique's boxes. She let her fingers linger in Monique's thirteen-year-old love tunnel as my innocent little stepdaughter moaned, closed her eyes and licked her lips. I would have bet my right nipple that Monique was squeezing Wynona's fingers with all the strength her pussy could muster.

"You like to eat pussy?" Wynona asked Monique all the while finger fucking her step mom's favorite girl slut.

"Yes Ma'am," replied Monique showing some smarts as she humped her pussy against Wynona's hand like a bitch in heat.

"When did you eat pussy last?"

"Last night on the ship."

"Whose was it?"

"Rozz, my step mother."

"She eat yours?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Have you ever eaten your real mother's?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Would you like to?"

"Yes, Ma'am, I suppose," said Monique perhaps considering the question for the first time and finding it of interest. Do girls fantasize about munching mother's rug? Sure we do.

There were other similar inane questions before she told Ellis to load us into the truck.

It was another bizarre day in paradise. After the William Blunt docked we were marched a half mile inland then trussed up like chickens in a long metal shed. Our hands were tied over a hook suspended from the ceiling. Our feet barely reached the floor. Each family was clustered together.

This was the slave sale part of the experience. Alonzo had informed us that the final days of our trip would be spent working as cane cutters on the several sugar cane plantations located on the island. Apparently sugar cane was a close second to cotton in terms of using slave labor in the new world. I did learn some absolutely worthless historical facts on the trip. Alonzo then gave us a geopolitical lecture on the impact of something he called the American Sugar Quota which protected rich Florida sugar cane growers from foreign competition.

"The big cane growers in Florida bribe the American Congress to limit the amount of sugar that can be imported into the US and they guarantee an exorbitant per pound price for US grown sugar. The end result is that these local people who could export sugar to the US at a very reasonable price are cut out of the market and barely make a living. Another result is that consumers like you are forced to pay five times what you should for a pound of refined sugar," said Alonzo demonstrating his knowledge of international agribusiness.

"He's very correct," whispered Sam to the children and me. "It's a disgrace what goes on in Congress."

I could give a shit less about sugar cane and quotas. I looked around wondering about how and when I would be sexually abused.

"As a result, the people you will be working for are not particularly fond of Americans. Expect to be worked hard and abused like real slaves," said Alonzo.

That said we were strung up to the rafters awaiting the arrival of the plantation owners. The owners came as family units. Her husband Ellis, son Mathew, daughter Alisha and brother-in-law Ed and his wife Bea accompanied Wynona. They were a big strong tough looking bunch, tall, muscled, and black as the ace of spades, a white family's worst nightmare. Mathew took an interest in Sandra ignoring Monique making me think he liked his women on the hefty side. He checked out her holes even licking his fingers and sticking them up her ass.

"She's still tight," declared Mathew. Given the amount of cock we had experienced thus far on the trip, I was surprised anything was tight. "Let's choose them."

"Your mother will decide who we take,' said Ellis revealing he had left his balls elsewhere.

"Why can't I have a say?" asked Mathew.

"Quiet, baby, I'm thinking," said Wynona taking another feel of Sandra's orifices.

"She's a little heavy but I like them that way," said Mathew.

There are men that eschew the Sports Illustrated model types and prefer their women with a little or even a lot of meat on them. S&M seems to have more than its share of big boned women.

"Fat girls are more fun to whip," declared one of the dominants at the Hellfire Club one night when I was watching him decorate a 250-pound femme's ass to resemble a barber pole.

"I see what you mean," I said admiring the way her heavily dimpled butt was laced with bright red stripes some of which were tinged with bright drops of blood. Apparently cellulite cuts easier because her ass was dripping the red stuff. She was a player, however. "Harder," she croaked once she got her breath after the dominant's whip had cared a deep red groove in a cheek. It's difficult to scream and talk.

"And they give you a better reaction to pain. Watch," said the master expertly snaking the tip of the whip between her legs to land on her cunt. The bullwhip perfectly bisected her pussy lips sounding like a rifle crack as the tip snapped across her hole and clit. She reacted with an ear splitting scream and bodily contortions that practically ripped the whipping post out of the concrete floor.

"See," said the dominant proudly.

I did see his point. The whip had more surfaces to land on and the effect seemed to be greater. When I dropped by later to check on them she was standing in a puddle of her own piss blubbering while the dominant applied sea salt to her cuts.

Decision made, the Witherows climbed into the back of a five-ton truck. We were soon joined by the five Barlows: Dave, Denise, Tracy, Billy, Tom, and Steve, the three Connelly's: Warren, Margaret, and Lucinda, and the three Sheffields: Bruce, Deirdre and Sarah. Ellis raised the tailgate and the truck took off for a long drive down a winding dirt road.

In spite of the bumpy ride, I fell asleep with Sandra and Monique in my arms. I woke up when the truck stopped in front of a group of small one-room cabins where the cane cutters lived. It looked like a shantytown. It was early afternoon and we were promptly marched off to a nearby cane field.

There were several hundred locals busy cutting and hauling sugar cane. They halted work temporarily to eye the newcomers. It was mostly men but there were a few women.

Ellis presented us to Cosmo (yes I know it's a fucking dumb name but Cosmo it is.) who was in charge of the harvesters. We were each given a machete and shown the rudiments of cutting sugar cane. It's doesn't require skill but it is hard work. The fact that we were buck-naked and everyone else half naked made it a little weird. The heat and humidity were off the scale. I was sweating in no time. Deciding that dehydration and heat stroke were a real possibility I shepherded Sandra and Monique over to the large water can for a drink.

I was standing there drinking from one of the tin cups that we all shared when a whip landed on my backside wrenching a scream out of me. I grabbed my buttocks and danced around wondering if the fiery pain would ever go away.

"I didn't say it was break time," said Cosmo advancing on me whip in hand.

"We were thirsty," I replied.

"No one gets water until Cosmo blows the whistle," said Cosmo referring to the metal whistle he wore around his neck. "You stay there," said Cosmo blowing the whistle. That brought everyone over to the water can.

"This new slave doesn't know the rules. I need to teach her what happens when someone violates the rules. Stretch her over the table, Amos," said Cosmo to the crowd.

A brute grabbed my wrists and pulled me on top of a nearby table they used to keep accounts of how much cane had been harvested.

"Since you're new, I only give you ten," said Cosmo.

I was face down on a rough wood table. My toes barely touched the ground and my tits were mashing into the table's surface. Cosmo delivered a damn nasty whipping that set my backside on fire and left my voice raw from screaming. After the tenth blow, Amos released me and I felt to the dirt a sobbing wretch trying to deal with agonizing pain stretching from my butt to the tops of my shoulders. I curled up on the ground in the fetal position crying my eyes out promising to be good and follow the rules. Cosmo had laid it on hard making an example of me.

"Back to work," yelled Cosmo blowing the whistle. "Not you," he said to me as I was attempting to rise and go back to the row of cane I had been harvesting.

I was lying in the dirt sniveling when Amos took a few steps to stand over me. When I looked up, I had a good idea what I was in for. He was a magnificent physical specimen the sort of lean tall muscular black man that populates the rape fantasizes of white girls. His enormous hands and feet were a dead giveaway that he was well endowed. He was only wearing sandals and shorts held up by a piece of rope. He reached down and untied the rope letting the shorts fall to the ground then stepping out of them.

"Oh shit," I whispered to myself as I came to a kneeling or is that worshipful position before one of the bigger dicks I had encountered. I'm not one on keeping statistics and I never bothered to ask Amos the length and girth of his pecker but I will say that when he put his cock in me I experienced a combination of pain and pleasure that I didn't forget.

"Suck it white slave," intoned Amos grabbing his peter and holding it up for me.

The crowd was walking away slowly looking over their shoulders to see how I would react to mega-cock. In the past there must have been white women who literally fled before Amos's schlong

I placed one hand around it noting that my fingers didn't come close to reaching all the way and passed my tongue over the cock head which was colored somewhere between bright pink and light red. It had an inky black shaft with a lighter colored head so you could find it in the dark and guide it into the appropriate hole.

I teased the piss hole with my tongue and was surprised to learn that the opening was large enough to accept the tip of my tongue. I worked his piss hole extracting a few drops of strong yellow. My other hand stroked what must have been the biggest nut sack in the Caribbean. They hung down a good six inches. I sucked one of his testicles barely able to get half of it in my mouth. I wondered if scientists had identified the gene sequence in the double helix that created cock and balls like these. If you could develop a form of gene doping that would give every man a dick like Amos' all wars and conflicts would end since all we humans would do is fuck. It was sheer delight to suck that dick and rub it across my face feeling the heat it generated.

I forgot all about the whelps throbbing across my posterior, as I got busy sucking his uber cock. Black men are known for their virility and all too soon Amos was fully erect.

"On your back," ordered Amos pushing me down in the dirt. Somehow the fact that he was going to screw me in the dirt increased the eroticism. Thinking of myself as an unredeemable slut about to get screwed by a fabulously well equipped but semi-literate cane cutter while groveling in mother earth was about as sordid a scene as I could imagine.

I rolled on to my back rubbing my clit as I lay down in the soft earth. Contact between my recently whipped rear and the ground added another level to the sexuality of what was about to happen. I checked my well and found it pumping oil. Like Wynona said, I was juicy. I reached up, grabbed my big toes with my thumb and first two fingers pulling my knees down to my side. Yoga taught me there is an energy source in the big toe that can be released by squeezing the toes hard. I waned to release that energy into my cunt. Plus I wanted to be open and ready for penetration.

Amos knelt down between my legs. He slapped his peter several times against my clit. It was like a meat hammer pounding my tender flesh. It hurt and I moaned in response. I looked up to see Cosmo standing beside the kneeling Amos. Cosmo shorts were down by his knees. He was fisting a cock that you would call very large if you didn't have Amos's to compare it to. The fact that there was going to be a second act thrilled me to the core.

This was not a foreplay fuck. It was a use the bitch screwing. Using the tip of his dick, Amos plowed my furrow that spilled open like a Kansas cornfield before a fully rigged John Deere. He forced the head just inside my vagina, gave me his 'this is going to hurt like hell and I will enjoy that' smile then lunged forward.

"Of fuck yes," I cried out as I felt that schlong create a white-hot column of pain that traveled from my opening to the very depths of my uterus. Amos was not a 'I'll take it slow so you can get used to it' kind of man. He wasn't sensitive or thoughtful. Over the next five days I saw him ram that pussy stretcher in all the women and several of the men. It was always the same. You had to take it and deal with the pain somehow.

My vagina had seen an awesome amount of peter since we sailed on the William Blunt. It was well trained to accommodate dicks large and small but Amos's peter was so wide and so long it traveled where other penises had not even thought of going. It's girth made you feel like your guts were going to burst and when it reached bottom somewhere past your navel it brutally slammed into certain vital organs causing a dull throbbing pain that hurt like hell.

Amos' thrusts were matched by my grunts. He'd withdraw until only the cock head was still in my pussy then he'd give a full drop lunge that took him to the point where his nut sack slammed into my ass. Amos pounded me for a long time before he delivered his load of semen to my uterus.

"She's all yours boss," said Amos to Cosmo as he dismounted.

My back was covered in sweat and mud. Cosmo grabbed me by the hair and ordered me to assume the dog style position.

"Get your head in the dirt," ordered Cosmo pushing my face into the soft moist earth filling my nose and mouth leaving me to spit mouthfuls of mud on the ground in front of my face.

Cosmo passed his dick over the opening of my vagina soaking it with Amos' semen. Two thumbs yanked my sphincter open. Cosmo hawked a large gob of sputum in my open anus then slipped his cock into my rectum and began to pound away.

I pushed back to meet him each time he thrust forward.

"That's right, fuck my ass, tear my shithole up," I chanted as I met thrust for thrust.

I was into that kind of cold heartless sex where you neither know nor care about your partner. You don't want to know them better or sit and have coffee and learn how they feel about the war on terrorism or whether they have family or pets. Your interest in them ends at the base of their cock.

Cosmo blew a load in my rectum then hawked another gob of spit into my open asshole as he pulled out. I'd fingered my clit to get me off. I was coated in mud and sweat.

"Open your mouth," yelled Cosmo once again using my hair to pull me to a kneeling position. Cosmo and Amos pissed all over me. I swallowed several mouthfuls to keep Cosmo happy.

They sent me back to the harvest coated with a thin layer of mud that had absorbed enough urine that I smelled like a poorly maintained public toilet.

When it got toward dark, cane cutting stopped. We were marched back to the shantytown where slaves and natives crowded into a communal shower. Several of the slave women found that their ablutions included reaching over and grabbing their ankles so a native could grab a quick piece of ass. Monique was lucky enough to get it at both ends from two of the men.

Dinner consisted of local fare and wasn't bad considering. I'd classify it as healthy plain country cooking. After dinner the Mapes showed up and informed the Sheffields that they would be sleeping in the plantation house. Bruce, Deirdre, and Sarah left with the Mapes. I noticed several of the locals roll their eyes as the Sheffields left. Something was up.

After dinner, Cosmo assigned us slaves to different cabins for the night. They broke up the families. I wound up going with Dave Barlow and Lucinda Connelly to Cabin 4. It was as bare bones a place as you can imagine. A single bulb illuminated the room.

"Floor," ordered the local who seemed to be in charge of our cabin.

They put the three of us on the rough wooden floor and screwed us in all three holes only two in Dave's case. It was as simple as that. I was between Dave and Lucinda on my hands and knees. We knew the drill. We were going to be fucked whether we liked it or not so why not like it. I set the pace by moaning and cursing as different locals mounted me. Lucinda like all the young girls on the William Blunt had lost any pretense of innocence. They screwed their daddies, brothers, mothers and more total strangers than they could count. They'd developed a taste for dick and learned that the traditional wisdom that sex was much better and more meaningful with someone you love was pure bullshit. Having a long hard black dick up your ass in a cane cutter's shack felt just as good as if it was Mr. Wonderful's prick in the honeymoon sweet at the Bellagio. Perhaps I am too cynical.

Dave's asshole was dripping cum before long. He surprised my by displaying considerable enthusiasm for being a bottom. He demonstrated a real zeal for taking it at both ends and swallowing ejaculate. Once he leaned over and kissed me sharing a mouthful of spunk that he had just taken. Dave may have been a bully when he was dealing with skinny white boys like Sam Witherow but if a muscular cane cutter wanted to fuck his man cunt he wasn't about to object.

The three of us stayed on the floor until everyone in the cabin was satisfied. There was one woman who wanted her rug munched and Lucinda and I obliged. She surprised me by squirming under Dave for a regular fuck while he was being buggered. Frankly I was too tired to do anything other than cooperate and hope it would be over so I could get some sleep.

It was later when I was lying in my bunk that I heard screams. My bunk was against one of the walls and there were tiny cracks in the boards. Through one I could see up the hill to the plantation house. I heard a long wail of pain that sounded like Deirdre Sheffield.

Chapter 34 – Family Style S&M

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

"It hurts," complained Monique. "My tummy hurts."

"Why are they doing this to us, Rozz?" asked Carl. "My guts are ready to burst. I got to shit."

"Please Ma'am, I got to go potty," whined Sandra to Wynona.

The Witherows were getting an enema together courtesy of the Mapes and my temporary brood did not understand the whats and whys of intestinal irrigation. I didn't want to frighten them by saying something like; "They're cleaning your gastrointestinal tract out so when they stick their hand up your ass they won't get shit on it. It's supposed to hurt. Welcome to the world of S&M." I merely said it must be part of their ritual and try to relax.

As if anyone could relax with your guts cramping like all hell. The Mapes certainly knew how to give an enema. I would have sold my soul to evacuate my bowels. Still like any enema freak, the agony of the cramps is followed by the unalloyed joy of empting your guts in long powerful spews of filthy brown water that smell like overripe shit. A true enema lover adores the foul odor they make when the half processed feces explodes into the light of day.

It was the end of the second day of cutting cane for the Mapes plantation. After dinner, Ellis Mapes informed we slaves that the Witherows were invited up to the big plantation house for the evening. That morning when the Sheffields came stumbling down from the plantation house I asked Deirdre what had happened. I was sure I had heard her screaming the night before.

"We're forbidden to talk about it,' replied a tight lipped Deirdre who looked considerable the worse for wear. "They said if we told anyone that we would regret it and believe me they can make you sorry you were born." Deirdre moved away from me looking worried that she had said too much. The Sheffields were moving gingerly and their backside was covered with fresh whelps. Deirdre nipples had the telltale signs left by alligator clamps. Sarah, Deirdre's usually sarcastic and snippy acting stepdaughter looked like someone had definitely taken the wind out of her sails. She was hobbling around moving as if her pussy had been raped with a sandpaper cock, a distinct possibility when I thought about it.

So when Ellis informed us that we Witherows were next I got excited as only an S&M pain pig can when she suspects a full blown torture session is in the offing.

Ellis made us wipe our feet at the front door then led us through the nicely appointed home to the basement. The Mapes may have looked and talked liked the locals but they sure lived much better.

"Mapes Plantation was started in 1735 by the youngest son of Lord Stanhope, Lyle. It was originally named Caroline Plantation after his first wife. It was abandoned in 1760 when Anthony Stanhope was killed by Caroline's lover who happened to be one of the slaves that worked the plantation. The authorities hung both the murderer and his family for the crime," said Ellis as we were walking toward the large mansion. "They were my forbearers."

I figured Caroline Stanhope had encountered an ancestor of Amos and discovered the joy of being stuffed with enough black dick to make her toes curl. Lyle Stanhope must have happened upon their adultery and engaged the fornicator in fisticuffs where he lost his life.

"The plantation was restarted by Phillip Stanhope in 1770, a cousin and continued in operation under several of his descendants until 1947 when my grandfather who had made a considerable fortune during World War II returned to the island of his birth and purchased it. Approximately three thousand acres are cultivated in sugar cane. An additional thousand are planted in a variety of other crops. We are currently building a winery in hopes of creating a product suitable for export," added Ellis.

I looked over at my make believe husband who was eagerly following Ellis' lecture. I could tell Sam would have loved to be taking notes and asking questions.

Ellis conducted us down a hall and through a doorway that lead to stairs descending into a spacious, clean, dry basement that was well equipped for a variety of S&M practices. I immediately sized up the situation and Sam had some understanding that the various racks, posts, whipping benches, whips, and chains were not part of a museum exhibit. But I don't think my ersatz three stepchildren had a clue.

"Oh shit," whispered Sam almost under his breath.

The rest of the Mapes were waiting for us, Wynona, her teenage children, Mathew and Alisha and Ellis's brother Ed and his wife Bea. They were fully tricked out in S&M garb that would have passed quite nicely at NYC's Hellfire Club. Seeing that the Mapes family was about to engage in an S&M session with the Witherow family as submissives set me to wondering about the role of family life in the practice of sado-masochism. I'd heard of parent and siblings as S&M practitioners but never met one. Most S&M parents keep their lifestyle a secret from their minor sons and daughters. Certainly there were plenty of man and wife teams practicing together but I couldn't think of anyone else outside of my in-laws the Donaldsons who treated S&M as the family hobby like it was camping or sailing.

S&M was growing more mainstream in America. It was almost as easy to buy a whip as a loaf of bread. Would the future be families of dominants whipping the shit out of families of submissives? Instead of inviting your neighbors over for cocktails would it be an invite to experience hot candle wax dripping on their privy parts.

That brought up the more personal question of why Rosalind Donaldson considered being outfitted with nipple clamps a desirable condition. I'd taken every psychology course my college offered in an attempt to find out what mutant synapse in my brain led me to love a good thrashing. But I never came close to understanding why the agony of a tawse across my buttocks stimulated my Bartholin glands to manufacture lubricant and my clit to stand at attention. The fact that I could orgasm from the effect of an expert whipping made me a data outlier on the continuum representing womankind's reaction to extreme pain. Studies have shown that females who can auto-climax while being whipped are rare.

"We'll start by thoroughly cleaning you out," announced Bea interrupting my reverie. The Mapes took the Witherows by the hand and seated us in a row of five enema chairs. I looked around appreciating their dungeon as Ellis Mapes strapped me down.

Whoever designed the Mapes family dungeon had done a terrific job. (It turned out to be Edward Mapes, Ellis' brother.) Rows of incandescent bulbs hung from the ceiling providing excellent lighting. The floor was non-slip tile interspersed with multiple drain traps. There were water faucets with neatly coiled hoses conveniently placed along the walls. Piss, shit, blood, vomit, snot, saliva, etc could all be quickly washed away. Equipment cabinets lined the far wall. Restraints were primarily Velcro that in my opinion is much faster and easier to work with than leather that becomes stiff and inflexible over time especially when it is repeatedly soaked in body fluids. Plus Velcro is washable.

Ed, who I later learned was a gifted craftsman and amateur inventor, had created an enema chair that he should patent. It had a tubular metal frame with a broad base for stability. The frame held a rotatable molded plastic chair with an adjustable rim seat. There were Velcro straps for your torso, legs, and arms.

I noted that over in the corner were more of the enema chairs and they were stackable. That struck me as a stroke of genius. It's one thing to design an enema chair but to make it stackable takes brilliance. Ed Mapes was obviously an undiscovered talent when it came to designing S&M apparatus. I made a mental note to inform the General about Ed's chairs.

Once secure in the plastic chair, Ellis released a stop and rotated me one hundred and eighty degrees. I was now upside down ass pointed toward the ceiling. Ed ran his hand over my sex pushing a finger in my holes for reasons of male curiosity and to emphasize I was a slave open to his probing. He pulled my labia apart and used his thumbs to open my vagina then leaned in and gave me several long licks that caused me to sigh with pleasure. The first moments of an S&M session where I am totally helpless and the dominant conducts a manual investigation of my sex organs is always a treasured one. A man I didn't know had his fingers inside my pussy feeling around. There was nothing I could do about it. What could be better than that?

"Will this hurt, Rozz?" asked Sandra alarmed at having her butt pointed toward the ceiling while Mathew conducted his own inspection of her private parts.

"Yes, but it usually hurts some people more than others," I replied.

"Honey, we can't have you shitting all over the place," added Wynona.

"I wouldn't do that," said Sandra.

"We'll see," said Wynona playing the role of the wise matriarch.

"Quit whining, you two," said Carl directing his remark to his sisters. Since our fantasy vacation began Carl had developed a taste for practices requiring objects to be inserted in his ass; so he was anxious to get started. Bea had several fingers in his anus and she was stroking his cock occasionally licking the head.

"Some people do this for fun," I said seeking to console Sandra and Monique.

"Your Momma's right. Lots of folks get their jollies from being cleaned out. There are chat rooms on the Internet for people who just love the clyster," said Bea.

"Clyster, what's that?" asked Sandra. I had to admit that the children did gain important knowledge on the trip.

"That's the water nozzle I'm going to stick up your bottom in a minute. Here's what it looks like. My husband Ed made these in his shop. They're stainless steel," said Bea holding up a shiny six inch enema nozzle that had a black inflatable collar. Tubing to the collar connected it to the inflation bulb obviously adapted from a standard blood pressure instrument.

Ed worked some lube in my anus then pushed the nozzle inside and inflated the rubber collar.

"Ah," I sighed as I felt my rectum being forced open to accept the clyster.

"Stop," screamed Monique as the cold metal found its way past her anus.

"Calm down," I whispered to Monique and Sandra who were getting overly anxious at having six inches of cold stainless steel shoved in their behinds. The pressure created by inflating the rubber collar that was just inside their rectum caused them further alarm but Carl responded favorably with a long pleasurable sigh. Males have the advantage of a prostate. I predicted a future in which Carl would be no stranger to intestinal irrigation.

"What are you using for a solution?" I asked Wynona as she wheeled in a cart containing five two-liter pumpkin style enema bags.

"An old Mapes family recipe, sterilized sea water mixed with local herbs," answered Wynona. Interesting I thought. The only old family recipe in my family was for peach cobbler.

The bags were suspended from hooks in the ceiling. Hospital style tubing connected bag to nozzle. Ellis made a final check to see that all was properly done. He gave Carl's anal collar a few extra pumps.

"Yeah man, that feels good," breathed Carl. Sam looked a little worried at that remark. Having a potential gay son takes some getting used to.

"Can't have you blowing out all over the place," said Ellis as he squeezed the black rubber bulb expanding and tightening Carl's gasket. "Now, it's tight as a frog's butt."

"Release on three," said Mathew taking hold of the stopcock in the tubing above Sandra.

Mathew counted to three and I immediately felt the warm water trickle into my bowels. I've had everything from plain tap water to heated wine in my guts but I have to say that the Mapes family recipe created the worst cramps I had ever experienced. My intestines took on a life of their own. I could feel my large intestine squirming around inside my body cavity and the pain was intense. I was also sweating like a pig.

"Suck my cock while I rub your belly," said Ellis pulling off the Velcro fastened codpiece covering his peter then placing it against my lips.

Sucking cock while upside down and experiencing intense abdominal cramps is not easy but I managed it. Sandra was working on Mathew's pecker and Monique was gobbling Ed's. Carl and his dad were munching rug from Bea and Alisha who had held back from earlier involvement but had now joined in. Alisha was humping her pussy on Sam's mouth like a woman in heat. She had one hand on his cock slowly pumping it and the other on his back hugging his mouth to her pussy.

"Eat that black pussy," whispered Alisha to Sam acting out her black woman's fantasy of forcing a middle class white man to lick and suck her cunt.

"We don't won't the women to have too good a time," said Wynona handing a large rubber dildo to the three Mapes men. Ellis located my vaginal opening and worked the simulated cock inside my hole. More pressure in my guts was the last thing I needed. Being dildo fucked while accepting an enema is a yin and yang thing. The dildo fucking felt great in my twat but its pressure added to my sense of discomfort. The Witherow daughters were moaning and pleading for the Mapes to stop. The desire to expel the nozzle and empty your bowels grew exponentially as the moments went by.

I looked up to see Alisha tightening a cock ring around the base of Sam's dick as she jerked him off with one hand while sucking his cock head. Carl was getting the same treatment from Bea. Neither of the two male Witherows was going to come until that was removed.

The Witherow daughters were sucking cock; taking a very stimulating cocktail up their ass and being dildo fucked all while suspended upside down. What a rush? Nothing that exciting had happened to me when I was their age. Kids these days are so lucky. Sweat was pouring off my body in a steady stream. There was a steady drip onto the tile floor.

Finally, I heard a loud gurgle above my head as the pumpkin bag emptied and collapsed. The Mapes stepped away leaving us to our misery.

"Let's give them ten," said Wynona glancing at her wristwatch. They pushed the dildos in out cunts as far as they would go and left them there.

The girls were sobbing and moaning as the Mapes repaired to a far corner of the room, turned on a television and proceeded to enjoy an S&M video of several Mexican cops torturing and raping three American college girls they had arrested.

It was a very long ten minutes. Monique and Sandra wouldn't stop whining. Sam kept mumbling something to himself about paying $25,000 to be tortured. Only Carl and I were getting a thrill out of the enema.

Ten minutes finally over the Mapes returned to rotate us upright then deflate the rubber collar. The enema and nozzle exploded out of my asshole like they were jet propelled. Ellis and Ed washed our shit down the drains with the hoses and we got to repeat the enema this time with much warmer water.

The upside was that there was only a five-minute holding period but once they got us upright they made us beg for release.

"Say I'm just a piece of white trash that loves sex with people of color," said Wynona to the Witherows. We all dutifully repeated that in unison.

"Say I love to suck dick and eat pussy of colored people," said Wynona. Once again the Witherows responded in unison. That struck me as kind of juvenile but the Mapes seemed to enjoy it. I suppose humiliating white people is fun if you're not one.

From what I could see the enema was much clearer but three is the general rule in enemas and Wynona showed up with another set of bags this time containing a very cold mixture.

Monique started screaming when the cold enema flowed into her intestines. I felt like my guts were going to jump through my skin. I'd done the hot then cold thing before. Your bowels definitely do not like it.

They let us suffer for five minutes once the bags were empty. On the television, a big titted blonde coed was sucking a rotweiler cock while a German shepherd pounded her pussy. Her two buddies were looking on in horror. Behind then there was a whole kennel of dogs waiting to be serviced. The pups were barking and waging their tales anxious for a little human sex.

A half dozen Mexican Federal police were looking on encouraging the pups to enjoy themselves. The girl was showing serious enthusiasm understandable given that moments before the police had her wired to a wall plug and were shocking the shit out of her private parts. Given the choice between having 120V at 30AMPs traveling in a circuit from your nipples to clit to cunt to ass or sucking doggie dick the choice is obvious. "Come to Momma, Fido, she's just dying to be your bitch."

Once they returned us to the vertical, we had to pay a price to get rid of the enema.

"Swallow some piss and we will take the clyster out," said Bea holding her nephew's cock in her hand aiming it toward Sandra's mouth.

"I can't do that. Please don't make me do that," said Sandra.

"Yes you can. Now don't hurt Mathew's feelings and refuse to drink his pee," said Bea.

"No, I can't," said Sandra.

"All right, we'll leave you there," said Bea.

Bea and Mathew moved to my front where I dutifully opened my mouth trying to set a good example for my stepdaughters. A stream of golden yellow landed on forehead blinding me. Bea corrected her aim and the flow moved to my mouth. I swallowed two mouthfuls and Ellis deflated my nozzle collar permitting me to shit my brains down the drain. Next they did Carl and Sam who both proved to be up for ingesting urine. Monique showed she could handle a piss cocktail leaving Sandra the only one still holding two liters of icy seawater in her bowels.

"What's it going to be, Sandra?" asked Bea.

"All right," said Sandra.

"Good, since you have been difficult you can drink from the source. Don't waste a drop," said Bea.

Mathew placed the tip of his pecker in Sandra's mouth and slowly pumped her full of his kidney's waste product. He must have prepared for this by consuming several liters of water because he went on and on. He was practiced at letting slaves drink from the spring. You have to exercise control stopping when they have a mouthful then allowing them to swallow before you proceed. There are some great water sports experts at the Hellfire Club. I've seen a sub spend thirty minutes draining the tank of a dominant. He wound up with a round little belly that sloshed when he walked. Not to blow my own horn but I'm no slouch when it comes to draining a bladder. Having a stomach full of warm pee is a great way to start an evening of edge play. Plus the taste of piss in your mouth and the aroma in your nose sets the tone for what is to come. You're nothing but a piss drinking whore and deserve what happens to you.

When Mathew was finally done, they let Sandra empty her bowels. I never saw a girl so happy to take a shit in my life. They hosed us down with warm water then rotated us ninety degrees and started packing our asses with vegetable shortening. I mentally complemented Ellis noting that what I assumed was an enema chair had other uses, i.e., fist fucking. My back was toward the ceiling and my butt was facing Ellis who had donned a latex glove. His gloved hand was reaching into the can grabbing a small amount of shortening then forcing it up my ass. Sandra and Monique were not having a good time. Carl seemed to be enjoying it and so did Sam. I love the feel of another person's fist in my orifices.

"I'm in," said Mathew once he got his fist past Sandra's anal ring. Alisha was working on Monique.

"Oh fuck that hurts, take it out," screamed Sandra.

"Look Momma, I'm in to my elbow announced Alisha as she pushed her long skinny arm up Monique's ass.

"That's great, now do their pussy," said Wynona.

Depending on how you look at it, it's either an advantage or disadvantage to be male since you only have one hole to be fisted in.

We girls were grunting and groaning as we took a fist in both holes. Fisting is probably the purest form of S&M I can think of. Is there anything more personally humiliating and degrading than having someone's arms inside your body violating your sexual organs? Ellis's fingers slowly worked the inside of my uterus, as his other arm was elbow deep in my large intestine. Wynona queued us a CD on the stereo and the room filled with the sound of reggae. The fisting assumed the beat of the music and the dungeon filled with grunts, groans, and screams against a background of Bob Marley's greatest hits.

It was picture time. Wynona produced a Cannon 8.1 mega-pixel camera and captured images for the family photo CD's of each of us being fist fucked. Then she hauled out camcorder and walked around filming. She decided we were not holding our heads up.

"They're hanging their heads down. I can't film their faces. Where are the nostril hooks, Ellis?" asked Wynona.

"In the first cabinet," responded Ellis his fist slowly rotating in my womb.

Moments later Wynona grabbed a handful of my hair and raised my head then inserted two hooks in my nose that were attached to the ceiling. It felt like my nose was being ripped off my face when she let go. The weight of my head was hanging by my nostrils. I've seen slaves led around my nostril hooks before. You are definitely being controlled.

Monique and Sandra started screaming and thrashing around when the hooks went into their nose.

"Now, smile for the camera,' said Wynona starting to film us again. My stepdaughters were begging her to let them go.

Thank God, they released us as soon as Wynona has her footage. They gave us some water and let us relax for a minute. The Mexican police were still breeding the girls with their canines.

"Where did you get the DVD?" I asked Wynona.

"On the Internet," answered Wynona. "Its from the collection of the General who used to head the Mexican version of the FBI."

"I thought it was real," I said.

"That's one's pretty tame. After the coeds had been dog fucked and branded, they're taken back to their hotel in Cancun to enjoy the rest of spring break. I have one where the women are Zapatistas. The police skin them alive at the end."

Break over we were taken to a partially mirrored wall of the dungeon. Our wrists were wrapped in Velcro and connected to metal supports in the ceiling. Ellis pushed a button and the Velcro strapping coiled around a drum in the ceiling until our arms were stretched high over our head. Next they secured our legs to recessed rings in the floor tightening them to where we were spread like a starfish. Ellis played with the adjustments until we were capable of only the slightest movement.

I was facing the mirror perhaps four feet from the wall. Being able to see everything that was happening or going to happen increased the eroticism. Ellis returns from a trip to one of the equipment chests with five pieces of apparatus that were folded up into a bundle of rods and hinges. I watched fascinated as the Mapes unfolded the rods to create a wedge shaped frame with a studded top edge.

Immediately it dawned on me. We were going to ride the donkey. I may be an unabashed pain slut but I hate the donkey. What I did not realize immediately was that this was unlike any donkey I had ever seen before.

After another trip to a different chest, Ellis returned with an armful of odd-looking dildos and butt plugs. They were odd in that they were long and thin and there was red tubing attached to the base. Ellis fitted a dildo and butt plug on the top edge of the donkey destined for me then slid it under me inserting both of the soft pliable objects into my orifices. Monique and Sandra got the same treatment. Naturally Sam and Carl got the butt plug only.

At this point it wasn't too bad. My feet were still on the floor. The shortening from the fisting made everything slide in easily plus I was definitely loosened up. I watched as Ellis connected all the red tubing to a machine that looked like an air compressor. He started the compressor and I experienced the sensation of the dildo and butt plug expanding and lengthening inside me. That was weird. Satisfied that we were all properly connected, Ellis switched off the compressor.

Ed kneeled down behind me and started turning an adjusting crank and I felt the top edge of the donkey begin to push into the area from my butt to my clit. I've ridden the Spanish Donkey before. I know how painful it is. Slowly the pressure built as my weight was transferred from my feet to my cunt. Sandra and Monique began screaming. Sam began to beg Wynona to let us go.

When we five reached the point that our feet were no longer touching the floor, they stopped raising the donkey. Ed switched on the compressor and the dildo and butt plug began expanding and contracting inside our cavities.

Alisha was going from Witherow to Witherow attaching a hospital hemostat to our nipples. We three females got slightly smaller ones on our clit and some sort of clamp was applied to the tip of Carl and Sam's pecker.

"Now for the fun part,' said Wynona attaching an elastic cable to a hook in the wall in front of us. She attached the other end to the hemostats and let the cable spring taut. I screamed like a banshee as my nipples and clit felt like they were being ripped off. Monique passed out from the pain but Wynona revived her with smelling salts.

"This will be the deepest and fastest fucking you will ever receive," said Ellis restarting the air compressor.

When I looked in the mirror I saw Wynona handing out floggers to her family. Ellis increased the rate of the compressor and the dildo and butt plugs were rhythmically expanding and contracting inside my body cavities. I would hear the compressor release blast of air and the dildos would explode like a car's air bag following the narrow path afforded by my rectum and pussy. Then the vacuum pump took over and they deflated drawing the walls of my orifices painfully inward. Once deflated, it almost instantly re-inflated. The stroke rate far exceeded what even the fastest male stud could attain. It was a very painful way to be fucked. I began to lose control and started screaming uncontrollably for them to stop. My family joined in as we begged the Mapes to cease torturing us.

Most S&M session involve the torture of a single body part but the Mapes system had us hurting in so many places at the same time we began to wish they would kill you and get it over with.

My tenderest parts were resting on the narrow top of the wedge of the Spanish Donkey. I've seen women at the Hellfire Club go into a catatonic coma from being left on the donkey too long. It is the most horrible excruciating pain. One year they had a Spanish Donkey weekend at the club and the building was filled with screams of subs straddling the row of carpenter's saw horses someone had purchased from a local building company. They had planed down the top of the horse to create a flat surface only a quarter inch wide then nailed a narrow strip of iron across the surface. Your body from vagina to asshole was resting on that hard quarter inch. Most of the subs disappointed their masters by immediately screaming their safe word then begging the master to hurry and remove the restraints holding them in place. Everywhere there were subs rolling on the floor, hands clutching their cunts and whimpering in pain. The men were worse than the women.

Trace kept me on the Donkey for fifteen minutes that was about as long as anyone lasted. As part of the evening, the club owners re-enacted the 1855 diary of a twenty-year old New York girl that had joined the Abolitionist Movement determined to help Southern plantation slaves gain their freedom. She had traveled south to take part in the Underground Railway purchasing a small plantation near Natchez, Mississippi. In her diary, she claimed to be a virgin. The local slaveholders quickly found her out and raided the farm being used as a station on the Underground Railway.

According to her detailed account, they had begun by changing her virgin status to that of a well-fucked slut. They had stripped her naked then deflowered her while a substantial portion of the citizens of Natchez looked on approvingly. The local sheriff had gone first exercising the prerogative of the law. After that they had shaved her head, covered her in tar then rolled her in chicken feathers. For a finale, they had hoisted her onto a fence rail with the sharp edge digging into her recently raped pussy. Men had put the rail on their shoulders and carried her through the town for all to see. Her diary provided an accurate and exact account of the events of that night and how it felt to be "tarred and feathered and ridden out of town on a rail."

A femme that was new to the Hellfire club had volunteered to act the roll of the Abolitionist. She proved to be quite the screamer when the other actors hoisted the fence rail to their shoulders and lead her up and down the aisles to the enjoyment of the club's patrons.

My point is that when it comes to mind numbing pain, the Spanish Donkey has no equal and is usually applied singularly but the Mapes had developed an S&M session in which the donkey was only one of many forms of torture that the sub had to simultaneously endure. My nipples and clit were crushed in the business end of the hemostat and at that moment, Wynona landed a flogger on my back causing it to explode in pain.

The Mapes whipped the living hell out of us. I sounded long plaintive screams that I hoped Deirdre could hear at the slave cabins. And you could watch it all in the mirrors. Watching yourself being tortured added to the agony.

That night I developed incredible respect for Ed Mapes. His genius did not end with the design of instruments of torture. He also understood the psychology. Being able to watch yourself and your family being tortured add greatly to the experience. Because I could see them clearly, Sandra and Monique's pain became my pain. When I dared to look behind me I could see Wynona preparing to swing the flogger and I started screaming before it landed.

I began to orgasm and couldn't or wouldn't stop.

"Hit me harder, damn you," I screamed as the flogger slashed my flesh.

Since there were six Mapes and five Witherows, Ellis joined his wife in whipping me. The blows landed in quick secession as my pleasure centers rode the crest of greater and greater waves of sexual ecstasy. The thocka-thocka sound of the air compressor provided steady background noise to what was the most intense torture fuck of my life.

Finally after God knows how many blows, they stopped. Sandra had fainted. The other Witherows stopped screaming as the compressor was switched off and the Spanish Donkey removed. They revived Sandra with an ammonia ampoule. We were allowed to shower in a common shower room.

The Mapes issued us warm robes and took us upstairs to the family room to sample the wine from their new winery. We enjoyed their hospitality for several hours.

"We've still got a way to go," announced Ellis tasting the wine. "It's certainly not equal to even a mid level Russian River chardonnay.

I didn't think it was too bad but I'm not an oenophile. Sam chatted with Ed and Ellis about the world wine market. The kids made s'mores together. We women talked about the problems of raising teenagers.

I guess there is a place for family style S&M.

Chapter 35 – Kuwait City Shit Dip

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

"Oh my God, this can't be happening," I whispered to myself as my hands slipped beneath the surface of the trough of warm shit. It had the consistency of the runny chocolate pudding they serve in the hospital's mess hall. I and three other Army nurses were about to be immersed in raw sewage headfirst. I'd passed out at the party from too much booze and hashish. I had no idea how I got to where I was.

We four were naked and strapped on two large wheels located in what I took to be a subterranean chamber under Kuwait City. My arms and feet were painfully stretched to the verge of dislocation. The curvature of the wheel against my back made me feel like my spine was about to snap. The wheels resembled a water wheel like you would find in a quaint New England town. They had to be ten feet high. But water did not make the wheel turn. Its driving force was a steady thick flow of shit from the city sewers.

I turned my head to see the other wheel on the far side of the trough. Nancy and Amy were tied to that wheel. Nancy's head had just started to emerge from the brown gunk as a screaming Amy headed below. Marcy was strapped to the other side of my wheel. I could hear her gasping for breath as she emerged from the putrid semi-liquid mixture. I couldn't see her but I could hear her spiting and shrieking as she attempted to clear the sewage out of her mouth and nostrils.

I head the snap of a whip and the wheel jerk slightly as one of the fat cretins landed his flogger across Marcy's abdomen. Marcy's full-throated scream echoed off the ancient stonewalls. The sound of floggers on female flesh immediately followed by screams drew my attention to the other wheel. Two other goons had begun to flog Nancy and Amy. Each time the flogger landed, a spray of shit splattered into the air. There were a half dozen naked dungeon keepers around us each one equipped with a very evil-looking nine stranded cat-of-nine the kind where the tip of each strand ends in a Turks Head knot designed to peel the flesh off your body.

The smell was so overpowering it was hard to think. I tool a deep breath as my elbows disappeared in the brown gunk. My stomach did a flip-flop as I felt my hair being submerged. Then ever so slowly I sensed the thick mixture reaching the top of my head then my forehead. I closed my eyes determined not to scream and open my mouth. But just as my nostrils passed below the surface, a flogger landed on my tightly stretched abdomen wrenching a scream from me that I could not control. Half way through my cry of pain, my mouth filled with the excrement of a filthy Arab city.

How had I come to be there? I'd been back from bereavement leave for less than a week. There had been a lot of things to catch up on at the hospital. The ORs were scheduled for round the clock operation. There had been a big offensive near Mosul generating numerous casualties. But by Friday the situation had calmed down and the weekend looked quiet. Saturday morning I was catching up on my rest when Marcy showed up in my quarters with a strange request. She'd brought me a cup of coffee to atone for waking me up

"Rozz, I need you to help make a video I can send to Gil," announced Marcy sitting down on the edge of my bed.

"What have you got there, Marcy?" I asked referring to the long flat molded plastic case and the tripod-mounted video camera she was carrying. I was familiar with the video camera. It was the one we used in the OR to film operations where we wanted a consulting surgeon to view the surgery and offer his expert advice. A satellite transmitted the video to John Hopkins. It was very high resolution. I didn't think Marcy planned to uplink her video to a satellite. I suspected we were going to be making amateur porn.

The molded case looked like it was made for a base guitar but I didn't think for one moment that was what was inside. Marcy was my best friend in the service. I knew she didn't know how to play any musical instrument except the skin flute so I was curious.

"Gil sent me this from Bangkok," said Marcy opening the case. Gil was her husband, a Marine Captain assigned to embassy guard duty in the capital of Thailand. Gil and Marcy had what was called an 'open' marriage. They both fucked around on each other then sent steamy emails and digital video files to document their adultery. Trace and I considered them a fun couple and we had partied with them on occasion. Partied in the sense that I had fucked Gil and he had put the stones to Marcy.

Periodically they exchanged these 'can you top this," videos. The last one Marcy received showed Gil and two of his fellow embassy guards triple penetrating a Thai girl who looked to be young enough to be in grammar school. Visitors come to Thailand from all over the planet with one thing in mind, sex with the under aged. It makes for a lively tourist industry. Gil told Marcy that high-ranking military officers own the brothels with the youngest girls so he gets a courtesy discount.

The plastic case contained something that you could only find in a pervert's heaven like Bangkok. It was a set of dildos fixed to a base or track. The dildo's got progressively longer and thicker as you moved along the track.

"You put it on the floor and squat over the dildo then lower yourself down. Whoever can get the largest in their pussy wins," advised Marcy. When I think of it, its use was pretty obvious.

It reminded me of one of those candelabras they had at the Catholic Church where I attended as a schoolgirl. The candles are small at one end and get larger as you go to the other end.

I suppose I never told you that I attended Catholic schools and even thought about being a nun when I was a young girl. I've come a long way since those days. I recalled how a few years ago, I'd participated in a Black Mass at the Hellfire Club dressed as a penguin aka Sister of Mercy and engaged in anal intercourse on the altar as a defrocked priest fed me a urine soaked communion wafer. That was one fucking wild night. Oh well, that's another story and I digress.

The smallest dildo at the end was marked 6x3. I took that to mean six inches in length and three inches in circumference. The next one was 7x3.5. The largest was 16x8, a size I considered a novelty item only suitable for gays who wanted their butthole stretched.

"So what do you planning to do with it?" I asked.

"According to the instructions you lay it out in the floor and have a contest to see who can take the biggest faux dick in their pussy or ass," repeated Marcy staring at the instruction pamphlet she took out of the case.

"And Gil wants you to video the contest and send him a copy," I said.

"Yep, are you game?" asked Marcy.

"Yes if you will give me a copy to email to my father-in-law," I said knowing General Donaldson loved to watch that kind of sex play among the troops.

"Of course, I've also invited Nancy and Amy to play. I plan to use the Men's Shower Room. Say you'll do it I've already sent an email inviting all the staff that's not on duty."

"I hope that thing came with some lube," I said eying the largest of the twat busters. Marcy had a habit of presenting me with a fait accompli then making it sound like I had a choice

"It sure did. My sweetie thought of everything," said Marcy holding up a giant economy size bottle of lubricant. I had never seen lubricant in that size. It looked like something you would find at a Sam's or a Costco or in a shithole like Bangkok where they probably sell an institutional size to the brothels.

An hour later, Marcy, Nancy, Amy, and me were in the Men's Shower Room. The word had spread though the officer's quarters that something exciting was about to happen and the place was crowded with horny men and a few equally horny nurses. Most of the crowd was already jerking off. KC, the black female anesthetist had brought a plastic shower chair and was seated with her legs thrown over the arms. Arnold, the skinny white orthopedic surgeon who functioned as her part time slave was kneeling between her legs slurping her snatch when we arrived.

Marcy spread her toy along the center of the tile floor. It was a good twelve feet long when the two sections were placed end to end. I was having second thoughts when I saw how large the dildos on the end were. I use my pussy often and receive considerable pleasure from it. I did not want to ruin it

Someone had brought one of those waterproof boom boxes to the shower and it was blaring rock-and-roll music. We'd decided on two contests, vaginal and anal. Each contestant would squat over the dildo and lower herself to bury it. All four would do the smallest one then the next smallest and so on. If you couldn't bury that rubber dick in your twat you dropped out. The first one to quit ate the winner's pussy. The second drop out munched the runner up's rug.

Marcy announced the contest to the crowd then we four got naked to the hoots and catcalls of the soldiers. Several of the soldiers decided to join us on the nakedness front and before long the shower room was crowded with the nude bodies of Uncle Sam's finest. The soldiers started placing bets as the contest began. The early favorite was Nancy who was generally regarded as having slept with more men and women soldiers in Central Command than any of her compatriots. Nancy had a genuine love of cock that combined with her desire to be helpful and her less than brilliant IQ created situations that sometimes got out of hand.

Once Nancy decided to give a mortally wounded Private a final blowjob. The chaplain had just left. Apparently the soldier was Catholic and the priest had given him last rites. Nancy was Catholic too, raised in a convent. She didn't want the soldier to arrive at the Pearly Gates unsatisfied so she got busy and sucked him hard no small achievement in itself given that he had lost a lot of blood.

I happened in on the scene. I just watched for a while. Nancy was giving it everything she had to get the GI off one final time. But it wasn't happening. Finally, she looked up and saw me standing in the doorway.

"Give me a hand, Rozz, I can't get Sgt. Tomlinson to blow his load," said a desperate looking Nancy.

"Maybe that's because he is dead. Look at the monitor. There's no pulse, respiration and unless I'm reading the display wrong, he's flat lined," I said gesturing toward the machine that monitored his vital signs.

"He's still hard. Didn't they teach you in nursing school to never give up on a patient?" said Nancy.

Nancy was holding a very large and erect looking cock in her hand slowly fisting it as she sucked on the head.

"I don't know, Nancy. Looks like a lost cause," I said.

"Please, just give it a try," pleaded Nurse Nancy.

"All right," I said walking the few steps to the side of the bed. I leaned down and took the Sergeant's cockhead in my mouth as Nancy switched to licking and sucking his balls. The thought occurred to me that when it came to cocksucking with the dead I was no longer a virgin.

I was about to give up and tell Nancy that it was hopeless when I felt the Sergeant's body relax and my mouth filled with semen.

"Share, girlfriend," demanded Nancy pushing her lips to mine and sticking her tongue in my mouth. I forced a portion of the load into Nancy's mouth and we kissed swapping saliva and cum back and forth before we swallowed the residue. The action had gotten the two of us aroused so we pushed each other's uniform trousers down, climbed on the bed beside the Sergeant's corpse and got into a torrid sixty-nine. Our noisy mutual orgasm must have attracted a crowd because when I looked up face soaked in Nancy's pussy juice there was the Head of Surgery, Dr. Needham and several staff along with the Chaplain watching us.

"Please, show a little respect for the dead," said Doctor Needham shaking his head and laughing as he walked away.

Nancy later confided in me that she had gotten the Sergeant to blow his load by sticking her finger up his ass and mashing his prostate. "That always works. I should have thought of it sooner," was her comment. After that I swore off giving blowjobs to the deceased. I only tell the story to illustrate that my fellow contestants were not exactly squeamish when it comes to matters sexual.

Nancy's sidekick Amy was known for having screwed an entire company of Marines during a firefight at Ramadi. Her medivac helicopter had been damaged and forced to land. Mortars and RPGs had the Marines pinned down. Our little warrior-whore was trapped in a bunker when she decided to engage in a one-woman morale-raising episode. She gave each of the forty-four Marines a half and half during the four hours they were waiting for the armor to fight its way through the streets. She also cared for the wounded by swallowing their load. Even the battle hardened Marines were impressed when the plucky nurse pulled down the drawers of four captured insurgents and sucked them off. Amy is semi-famous for sucking and fucking under fire.

We decided to go by rank for the vaginal round. That made me first followed by Marcy then Nancy and Amy. We would reverse the order for the anal round. I lubed up my hole and its immediate surroundings playing with my clit to get into a positive frame of mind. Then I squatted over the smallest dildo and easily buried it in my snatch. There was a nice round of applause.

Things did not start to get tight until we reached 8.5x5 considerably larger than the average pecker. I positioned the head of the dildo in my opening then slowly lowered my cunt. It was tight. I allowed my body weight to bring me to the point where the latex balls were nestled against my butthole.

"Rozz, look at the camera," called Lt. Morris who was standing there with a hard on focusing the camera.

Amy, the smallest of the four of us struggled to fit the 8.5x5 in her hole. She began sweating profusely and she had to raise and lower herself several times before she got it all the way in her cunt.

The 10x5 was where we lost Amy. She gave it everything she had but a 110 pound, 5'4" woman can only take so much cock. She just could not get the last three inches inside her. She struggled and grunted causing the release of a very loud and embarrassing fart occasioning much laughter. She had to give up. You can't fit ten pounds of shit in a five-pound bag was how my dead husband Trace would have characterized it.

At 11x5.5, it was down to Marcy and me. Nancy in spite of a valiant effort could not handle the 11x5.5. It just wouldn't go. I had to work hard to take it all. It really felt weird to force that much latex in my hole. And force is the correct term; it did not slide in willingly. I used my body weight to make it happen. A sweat drenched Marcy managed to fill her twat with the 11x5.5 so we moved on.

"You two lay on your backs and show us your pussy," yelled Herman who was directing our amateur video.

Herman took the camera lens into our wide-open holes for an inside the pussy shot. Around us, flashes occurred as our fellow soldiers recorded the phenomenon for posterity.

"Lube me up, Herman," I said lying on my back then going into a shoulder stand. I separated my legs so Herman was looking straight down into my cunt. He pointed and squeezed the large plastic bottle and a stream of lubricant went straight into my open hole.

"God, Rozz, you are really opened up," said Herman putting several fingers into my vagina to demonstrate to me that my pussy was stretched.

I made it through the 12x6 and the 13x6.5 as did Marcy but I managed to win by successfully impaling myself on the 14x7. Poor Marcy went half way down and just couldn't force the rest into her coochie. That left me the winner but the crowd wanted to see more. I decided to skip the 15x7.5 and go for the ultimate.

Once again Herman filled my well to the brim with Bangkok slickum. I straddled the 16x8. Oil dripped out of my snatch onto the latex cockhead. I took a deep breath and using my fingers guided that mega dick into my entrance.

Trace always said one of the things he admired about me was that I was a plunger, a risk taker. I took a deep breath and as I exhaled I shot my feet out from under me. I screamed as my body weight carried me downward until my bottom landed with a splat on latex balls. I felt like someone had stuck a log up my pussy. Dozens of flashes fired. I pictured the Internet being overwhelmed as images of my achievement were transmitted around the world.

Everyone applauded as Herman helped my up. He had to place one foot on the track to hold the dildo down as I painfully extracted it from my love tunnel. It felt like my guts were being sucked out. Someone had placed a pair of chairs in the shower and Marcy and I got to sit down while Nancy and Amy ate pussy in front of the entire hospital staff.

I begged off the anal contest preferring the role of a spectator and not wanting to hog the glory. Cherie, another nurse took my place. Marcy won the anal with Nancy runner up. Cherie and Amy got to rim their very open butt holes. This was brown lips work but these girls were Army tough. Cherie and Amy didn't hesitate for a second as they attacked the shit coated anus of their comrades in arms.

It was lunchtime and the contest was about over when a new nurse showed up and began to give us down the road. That turned out to be a big mistake on her part.

"You're a disgusting group of perverts and a disgrace to the uniform," screamed Lt. Beverly Randolph striding into the Men's Shower Room. Someone had told her what was going on and she had rushed in to let us know her opinion. Lt. Randolph had arrived from training two weeks ago while I was still on leave. She was brand new to this woman's army.

"Calm down, Beverly, we're just having some fun," said Marcy in a conciliatory tone. I might mention that Marcy was seated holding her legs up so Cherie's tongue had unimpeded access to her shit-streaked anus. Cherie and Amy were making noisy slurping sounds as they licked and sucked butt.

"I'm going to report this behavior to CentCom," yelled Beverly her face full of rage. I hadn't really met Lt. Beverly Randolph but I had heard she was both brand new and the product of a college located in South Carolina called Bob Jones University. Marcy had told me it was a Christian evangelical school where the mere act of holding hands on campus with your boy friend could get you expelled.

"Cool it, Lieutenant, we're just having a little fun. It's been a tough week," said Herman the hospital's assistant director and a man with little tolerance for prudes.

"This is not fun. It is Godless unchristian behavior that is against everything this county stands for. Captain Donaldson, you should be ashamed of yourself. The other nurses look up to you," yelled Lt. Randolph pointing in my direction.

I'd heard enough at that point. I didn't need some little twerp lieutenant calling my morals into question especially since I didn't have any.

"I think we should let the Lieutenant play a round of Bangkok pussy stretch," I said to the gathering. Herman and several of the other men must have thought that was a great idea because they hurriedly removed the struggling Lieutenant's uniform as she screamed rape and made all kinds of threats. Men including doctors love to get rough with a recalcitrant woman and force her to perform sexual acts. It's amazing how quickly they form a pack and attack a helpless female. That's one of the things I love about them. Unfortunately for Herman and his kind, it was hard to think of a sexual act that the hospital's nurses would not willingly perform enthusiastically.

"Hold her legs apart," I directed as I squirted my palm full of lube. I'm not sure whether it was a religious thing or not but Beverly Randolph had a full bush, a thick mesh of curly black hair reaching from hip to hip. Using my fingers I worked some lube into that hirsute valley then stood back as Herman and the others impaled Beverly on the 6x3.

"Stop, I'm a virgin," screamed Beverly as they forced her down on the latex spike.

I was of the opinion that loss of virginity required penetration by a real cock but maybe the rules were different for evangelical Christians. Beverly screeched and wailed as her pussy engulfed the 6x3. Beverly's blubbering brought out the animal in her male handlers who pulled her off the 6x3 to skewer her on the 8x4. From her pleas for mercy, moans of discomfort and agonizing screams I gathered she was not having a good time. Her legs were kicking as the men shoved her down on the 8x4 until her bottom touched the tile floor. They put their feet on the top of her thighs and pushed hard. There was not question that every inch of the 8x4 was in Beverly's hole.

Up they lifted the squalling female only to once again place her over the 10x5.

"Let's see how big we can make her pussy," said Herman.

Beverly's face showed real fear as she felt that cock head at the entrance to her hole. Three men were holding her one on each leg and one was holding her arms behind her back. Beverly sounded an ear splitting scream as another two hundred pound man pushed down on top of her shoulders slowly wedging that 10x5 column in her virgin twat. The poor woman was in hysterics. The video camera was capturing everything for our later enjoyment.

"Enough, let her go," I ordered. I was afraid they were going to try for the 12x6 and I didn't want to spend my Saturday afternoon in the OR assisting a surgeon stitch up Beverly's snatch.

Herman, however, wasn't quite over his mad. For an excellent doctor and a first class thoracic surgeon he had anger issues.

"Hold her mouth open," ordered Herman to one of his helpers.

Beverly gagged and choked as Herman put his cock to her lips and pissed. His buddies seeing the fun that could be had by peeing on a wretched female painfully impaled on a huge dildo joined him. A good half dozen males drenched a sobbing Beverly in strong yellow.

Fun over the crowd quickly disappeared leaving Beverly covered in urine and in an extreme split that made it appear her hips were dislocated. Her butt was resting on the cold tiles and her cunt obscenely stretched around that column of latex.

"Help me get her up, Marcy," I said taking one of Beverly's arms and attempting to lift her. She was stuck.

It took several attempts before we could get a screaming and sobbing Beverly fully free of the dildo. I shoved her under the shower and washed her hair. Then I sat her down in a shower chair.

"Spread your legs over the chair arms," I ordered as I grabbed a razor and a can of shaving cream.

Beverly was a broken woman. She did as I said. At considerable effort and aided by Amy, I shaved her twat.

"Clean and sweet as a newborn infant's pussy," I said when we were done.

"It's not the way God intended for women to look," whined Beverly looking at her bald snatch through tear filled eyes.

"I'm not going to have a nurse under my command walking around with a hairy beaver. Now keep it like that in the future. That's an order," I said.

I put a robe over her and walked her back to my quarters. I made her take a couple of Vicodin and put her in my bed and climbed in with her. I spent the rest of the afternoon napping and teaching her to eat my pussy. Her shower room experience had broken her will to resist. I didn't think we would be getting any more lectures from Lt. Beverly Randolph.

Beverly and I were sound asleep when the telephone rang. It was Marcy.

"I know where there is going to be a fantastic party in Kuwait City," said Marcy. "It's at a new palace and it is going to be fabulous."

I'd been to several parties at the palaces in Kuwait City. They were incredible, exotic food, lots of dancing, sex, and drugs. Of course, I agreed to go. I got up to get dressed leaving an exhausted and drugged Beverly asleep. She was in no shape to party or I would have taken her. Lucky for her I didn't.

As I came sputtering out of the shit bath the dungeon master laid into me with the whip landing the flogger across my tits. The pain was hellish. He whipped down my body until the wheel took me too high for him to reach. I had a whip free moment then his buddy began on the other side. All four of us were begging for them to stop. I only shut up when my head went below the surface.

Chapter 36 – Our Odyssey of Pain Begins

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material or if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file and story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

I'm still alive I realized as consciousness returned. I thought for sure I was going to die suffocated in shit or whipped to death maybe both. God it hurts to move. I feel like I'm incased in concrete. But its not concrete, I'm covered in several layers of dried shit.

"Rozz, you okay?" whispered Amy from nearby.

"I'm great. I'm incased in shit cement and every square inch of my body has been whipped until it is an open sore. Did I mention that my spine feels like it is broken?" I said. Being bent backwards stretched like a rubber band on that damn wheel had left me with a severe backache.

"Marcy and Nancy are breathing but I can't wake them up," said Amy.

I didn't want to but I stirred. What I wanted to do was die peacefully lying there on the stone floor. If I moved I would hurt. I slowly put my fingers on my nose and gave it a gentle squeeze. A small shower of brown powder fell on the floor in front of me. That made me sneeze and a gob of bloody chocolate snot scattered the powder as I sneezed. That was disgusting.

The wheel torture had continued until I passed out maybe beyond that. I'd gone for countless dips in that trough of moving shit. Suffocation always seemed a possibility as my mouth and nose filled every time I took the plunge. When I wasn't submerged, a fat albino bastard was attempting to whip the tits off my body. Their arm never seemed to tire. I suspected that the only thing holding my nipples on was dried crap.

I looked at my hand. It looked like it had been dipped in chocolate pudding and left to dry. Except it weren't chocolate pudding but a slurry of turds collected by what passed for a sewerage system in Kuwait City. Kuwait City was lucky to have a sewerage system. Your average Arab capital allowed the shit to run in open ditches along the side of the road. Since that led to periodic outbreaks of cholera and typhus it was a cheaper form of population control than handing out condoms or giving the women chemical contraception.

"How did we get here?" asked Marcy.

"Oh you're awake. I thought you were dead," said Amy.

"I'm not that lucky," said Marcy.

"My mouth is full of dried shit," said Nancy.

"Another party heard from," I said.

"There's water on a table over there. I'll see if I can get it," said Amy. I watched as she slowly crawled a few feet to where there was a stack of plastic bottles of water.

Amy managed to retrieve four of the two litter bottles. Moments later, we four were sitting against a stonewall slowly sipping the water. We'd used the first several mouthfuls to wash our mouths out. We were in a true dungeon not some play space made to look like one. The walls, floor, and ceiling were rough stones. This was the real thing. There was an iron door at one end. A single bulb illuminated the room. The only other content was four naked whores covered in dried shit.

"We're going to die in 72 hours," announced Marcy once we had washed our mouths out enough to talk. We were slowly sipping water trying to hydrate ourselves. We hurt too much to move. Our tits were covered in whip cuts and swollen from the beating.

"How do you know that?" asked Nancy.

"I've got a thousand cuts on my body and I was dipped in fecal material. It has to contain at least twenty different bacteria and viruses that can kill you. We'll all get sick and die, end of story."

"Thanks, Marcy for that optimistic assessment of our situation. But the army will realize we're missing and start a search. Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll find us. We can load up on antibiotics and survive," I said.

"Fuck, how did we get here," asked Amy.

"We were kidnapped," said Nancy.

"Last I recall I was in the john, sitting on the can, sucking somebody's cock after he pissed down my throat," I said.

"Whose cock? You don't remember," said Marcy.

"The blonde guy who said he was half German and half Kuwaiti," I said.

"Dieter, his name was Dieter. He wasn't circumcised," said Marcy.

"You whores have got it all wrong. Dieter wasn't blonde. He had cold black straight hair. But he was half German and half Arab. But he was cut. It was his brother Klaus who wasn't circumcised and he was blonde," said Nancy. "They were the ones we were partying with."

"Nancy, you have an excellent memory for who you have fucked," I said dryly

"I used to keep a list," said Nancy.

"You kept a list of all the men you fucked," asked Amy.

"There were women too after Mrs. Stapleton," said Nancy. "Once I joined the Army, it got to be too much work so I quit."

"Who pray tell was Mrs. Stapleton," I asked to pass the time of day.

"Assistant Principal of my high school," said Nancy.

"And when did you do her?" asked Marcy.

"Tenth grade, I was in love with her," said Nancy. "She was a real lady. She wore a hat and white gloves to church. She invited me to high tea at her home."

"Was it unrequited love?" asked Amy.

"I suppose she cared about me. I was totally infatuated with her. It was a first girl love thing. I would do anything she said. I even let her talk me into doing a three way with her brother," said Nancy.

"Her brother, now that sounds kinky. Where was her husband?" asked Marcy.

"He videoed the whole thing," said Nancy. "He was on the city council and didn't allow anyone to take compromising pictures."

"So how was the three way?" I asked.

"I loved it. Margaret, that was what Mrs. Stapleton allowed me to call her when we weren't in school helped her brother give me my first anal experience," said Nancy.

"Sounds like a real coming of age thing, ever thought of writing it down so Teen magazine can publish it?" said Marcy.

"My first girl was Carrie Adams. She was prom queen, head cheerleader, and going steady with the captain of the football team. Carrie was most popular girl in my high school and she was no lady," I said to keep the conversation rolling. "She was a senior. I was a freshman. She seduced me."

"And exactly how did she do that," asked Marcy.

"She invited me over to her house when her parents were away for a weekend. The fact that the most popular girl in school was showering me with attention overwhelmed me. We ordered pizza and drank some of her dad's beer. We even smoked a joint. I thought it was so fucking cool. Then she took me upstairs and ate my pussy. I spent the rest of the weekend eating hers," I said.

"And after that she dumped you," said Marcy.

"You have such a negative viewpoint. Marcy Kendall, No, she did not dump me. We kept right on munching each other's rug throughout the academic year. She even let me fuck her boyfriend, the captain of the football team. The next year after she graduated she invited me to come spend the weekend at her sorority house at Middlebury College," I said.

"Where you ate everyone's pussy including the house mother," chirped in Nancy.

"The house mother's name was Margaret something and she was a real lady too. We did sixty nine while Carrie and her sorority sisters watched," I said. "Then we all formed a daisy chain and got each other off. For a sophomore in high school it was real big girl stuff."

"Never had sex with a girl until I reached Kuwait," said Amy. "I was strictly hetero until I ran into you sluts."

"Wow, Amy, and you do it so well. I assumed you started muff diving in grammar school," I said.

"Well, since it's tell all time, my first lesbian experience was my mom," said Marcy.

"I always wanted to have sex with my mother. I promise that if I live through this, I'm going back to Cleveland and eat her pussy," said Nancy. "It must be something special to have oral sex with the vagina that bore you."

"Your mom, Marcy, you never told me you got it on with your mother," I exclaimed.

"It just never came up," said Marcy defensively.

"How did it happen," asked Amy.

"It was my fourteenth birthday. Mom and I shopped at Bergdorfs and had lunch at the Plaza. Then she took me to a spa over on Fifth Avenue and I got my first Brazilian bikini wax. I felt really grownup," said Marcy.

"I forget you were raised with a silver spoon in your mouth," said Amy.

"So what happened," I asked?

"When we got home, we started trying on what we had bought. That included some lingerie that was pretty hot for a fourteen year old. Mom was walking around wearing high heels and a beautiful lace teddy. It was the first time that I had been allowed to wear black lingerie. Mom had bought me a pair of Wofford stay ups with a four inch black lace band at the top. I was wearing boy shorts that let my cheeks hang out and a demi-bra. I was walking around in these four inch Joan & David fuck me pumps trying to keep my balance and not fall on my ass.

"You're making me horny and I'm afraid if I touch my clit it will break off," I said.

"Mom even offered me a glass of wine, sort of as a rite of passage. I was strutting around in nothing but heels, hose, panty, and bra when all of a sudden I found myself in Mom's arms. She did me right there on my bed then guided me through how to do her," said Marcy.

"Sounds like a great way to establish a mother and daughter bond. I'll take my mom shopping where they have a great lingerie department," said Nancy.

"I'd always wondered why Mom had so many young female friends she socialized with. Of course, none were as young as me," said Marcy.

"So your mother was a dyke," I said.

"A married dyke," said Marcy. "Dad traveled on business most of the time."

"Did you make it just that once or were there other times," asked Amy.

"Other times aplenty and with her friends, I finally figured out she was using me to attract younger women," said Marcy. "She'd dangle me in front of some twenty something femme and the three of us would wind up in bed together."

"So you were queer bait," said Amy.

"Dyke bait would be more precise," said Marcy.

"I seduced my younger sister when I went home on leave last Christmas," said Amy.

"Kelly, the one who is still in middle school? She's a child," exclaimed Marcy.

"Thirteen last month," said Amy.

"Why did you do such a dastardly deed?" I asked.

"I was bored, nothing to do. My parents are not the most exciting people in the world. It was something to do, a challenge," said Amy.

"How did it go?" asked Marcy.

"Didn't' turn out to be much of a challenge. Little slut had been giving blowjobs and eating pussy since she was ten. They have parties where they spin the bottle and go in the closet and do whatever. They don't fuck but they are very oral," said Amy.

"Kids these days, hey, let's try to remember what happened last night. Maybe it will help us get out of here," I said.

"We left the base at 2230. We arrived at the palace at 2300," I said. Wealthy Kuwaiti men live dual lives. On one side of the city are nice quiet residential neighborhoods where they have a home for the wives and children to live respectably. It's very low key, Muslim and devout, no alcohol or tobacco. Some nights they actually sleep there but most of the times they just visit.

On the other side of the city is the walled area we Americans call Partyville. It consists of these huge elaborate palaces and that is where the husbands keep their whores, booze, and dope. There are incredible parties thrown on the weekends in the palaces. They go on for days and are filled with handsome men and beautiful women who like to have a good time. I'd been to several of them. By Sunday night when I have to return to base, I have fucked an unknown number of men and women, ingested some terrific narcotics and drank until I passed out. I usually woke up in a pile of naked bodies.

"Whose party was it again?" I asked.

"Sheik Mohammed Al-Kuwazi or something like that. He's a relative of the royal family and according to what I hear as rich as Bill Gates," said Marcy.

"How did you get invited?" asked Amy.

"Email from Cory," said Marcy.

Cory Lewis worked for the American embassy in Kuwait City. Other than attending and giving parties for Kuwaiti notables, I'm not sure she had a job. Early on, she had toured the hospital to meet the staff. Doctors and nurses who were young, attractive and had loose morals (that included pretty much all of us) were placed on her list of party people.

"The palace was new," said Amy.

"And the largest in Partyville according to what Klaus told me," said Marcy.

"Someone took my panty off at the front door," I said.

"You wore panties? Since when did you start wearing panty when you went to a party?" asked Marcy.

"It was a whim. I had some new ones I bought in Boston. They were kind of sexy and I thought it might be hot to have a guy slide them down my legs," I said.

"And was it?" asked Nancy.

"Sort of, one of the security guards pulled them down when he was searching me. He took me in a closet pulled my panty down and fingered me. You know how the security types like to perform a cavity search while they suck on your tits. He got me horny and I gave him a quickie," I said.

"Trust Rozz to give somebody a piece before we get in the door," said Marcy.

"He was kind of cute and well hung," I replied.

"All right, we arrived, had a drink, Dieter and Klaus came over and introduced themselves. We did some blow with them," said Nancy.

"Dieter was feeling me up under the table," said Amy.

"He had fingers in my hole too," I said.

"So Klaus and Dieter were playing with our pussies under the table," said Marcy. "That's nothing new."

"And we were jerking their cocks," I said.

"Then one of them stood up and shot his load into Amy's apple martini," said Nancy.

"And we all took a sip," I said.

"I love an apple martini with cum floating on top," said Marcy.

"Then we danced and did more blow," said Amy.

"Rozz let one of them take her top off," said Nancy.

"I remember being out on the dance floor with my tits bouncing up and down," I said.

"Later, the Sheik came by and introduced himself," said Marcy.

"I didn't get to meet him. I was under the table giving Klaus a blowjob," said Amy.

"Yeah, we could all hear you," said Marcy. "You make the loudest slurping sounds when you suck cock."

"Just a sign I am enjoying it," said Amy.

"I had to pee so I went to the rest room. One of them followed me in the stall. He stuck his cock in my mouth and pissed. Why do the Germans love to piss in your mouth?" I said.

"Just their way I suppose," said Marcy.

"Then he held a small bottle up to my nose. I thought it was poppers. I took a deep inhale that was the last I remember," I said. "There was something in that bottle that put me out."

"Me too," said Marcy. "Someone held a small brown bottle up to my nose and it was lights out. The next think I recall was when someone landed a flogger on my tits just as I was diving into the shit."

"Same for me. I was on my knees sucking cock when a bottle appeared at my nostril. I took a sniff and bam I was gone. Do you think they plan to kill us?" said Amy.

"They could have done that last night by stopping the wheel while out heads were under. They left us water to keep us alive," said Nancy.

"I suppose that is something. Who were those creatures whipping us?" I asked.

"Fat, naked, bald, that's what I remember," said Marcy.

"There were at least a dozen of them," I said.

"And here they are again," said Amy pointing toward the door to our cell that was slowly opening.

One of them stepped through. I could see several of his buddies standing behind him in the doorway. Their skin was almost white and there was not a hair on their body. They looked like a cross between the Michelin Tire man and the Pillsbury Doughboy. They were fat and disgusting from the female point of view, actually from anyone's point of view. The one who opened the door gestured for us to come to him. We got unsteadily to our feet. We were scared shitless and holding on to each other.

I suppose we were not moving fast enough because suddenly the room was full of his buddies. They drug us screaming out of our cell, down a hallway and into a large room where someone had turned on several showerheads that were producing streams of warm water.

They shoved us under the water and proceeded to wash us thoroughly from head to toe with coarse brushes that set us to screaming. Two of them held me while this fat pig went to work on me with a brush. Each stroke was agony. I felt like my skin was being rubbed off.

After a while, we began to bleed where the brushes opened up the whip cuts and the water going down the shower drain turned red. Just when I thought I was going to bleed to death, they stopped. There was a long low-lying wooden bench along the wall. They made us get down on all fours with our elbows and chin resting on the bench and butts in the air. I felt someone working his cock in my hole so I widened my legs to help him get in my hole. I didn't think I could handle any more pain and at that point I could have cared less if someone fucked me.

The four of us lay there grunting and moaning as they played hide the salami. After a while they started switching back and forth between vaginal and anal. That went on until each of the twelve had blown several loads.

There was another brief session under the shower but without the brushes. They handed us towels then bundled us into warm terrycloth robes and gave us some water to drink. After that they lead us to another room where there was a doctor and nurse waiting.

"Keep absolutely silent," ordered the doctor as soon as we arrived. "If you speak, the Sheik's men will take you back to the wheel and leave you there until you are dead."

That shut down any possibility of conversation. It was a standard medical exam. The nurse took our blood pressure. The doctor examined us one by one. We had to submit to a gynecological exam but it was pretty much what you would get from an ordinary physician. Several times I started to say something only to recall that I did not want to suffocate in shit.

"These shots will keep you from getting infected," said the doctor. He gave us three injections in our butt. He examined our whip cuts choosing to seal some of the worst with the same kind of liquid stitches we use in the hospital.

"You have a lot of cuts and abrasions but nothing that won't heal in a couple of days. Then they can start torturing you again," said the Doctor with a smile as he and the nurse left.

"At least we won't die of infections, " said Marcy when we were alone.

We four sat quietly for a while too tired to converse. At some point the door opened and the Sheik accompanied by Cory Lewis stroke in. Two of the goons came with them to keep us under control. We four had stood up when the door opened.

"Cory, what the hell is going on?" I burst out.

One of the goons stepped forward and backhanded me so hard I went flying into the wall. I hit my head and almost lost consciousness. I slumped down unable to stand. The goons grabbed me by the hair and pulled me to standing. Marcy put her arm around me to hold me upright.

"Do not speak unless spoken to," said the Sheik. "Take off the robes."

We removed the robes and stood there naked as Cory walked around us in a circle.

"They seem to have come through the wheel all right," said Cory.

"The doctor says they will be recovered enough for the next phase in two days," said the Sheik.

"You had better rest up ladies. The easy part is over," said Cory.

At that point, Cory and the Sheik departed. The goons took us a larger cell that had four twin beds. There was a pot of soup. We sat quietly as we each had a bowl. Too tired and hurting to even talk, we climbed in bed and went sound asleep.

Chapter 37 – French Methods

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material or if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file and story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

"Rozz, I'm terribly sorry that the Sheik and I couldn't be with you and your friends for the wheel torture but the smell was far too revolting. Besides, we were upstairs enjoying the party," said Cory Lewis as she straddled the wide mouthed funnel situated over my face. The small end of the funnel was connected to a length of surgical tubing that I had been forced to swallow. The other end of the tube rested in my stomach. My mouth was held open by a stainless steel mouth speculum that had been cranked to the point that my jaw hinges were on the verge of dislocation.

I've enough S&M experience to know that someone was planning to fill my belly with a disgusting substance or substances. My three companions and I were in identical situations. I wasn't sure what Marcy, Nancy, and Amy knew about torture devices but we were restrained in what my father-in-law would call a French rack. We were on our backs stretched like rubber bands to the point of snapping. Our ankles had been placed in two circular cutouts in a wooden board at one end of the rack. Our wrists were manacled and chained to a large wind up reel or windlass that had multiple handles and a ratcheting gear. I wasn't lying flat. There was a wooden cylinder in the small of my back. It must have been a foot in diameter. If I looked down my body I could see my elevated stomach. The effect was like being extended over a barrel. The skin on my abdomen was stretched so tight you could see the veins and arteries around my navel that had been transformed from an innie to an outtie.

General Donaldson had a similar rack in his home torture chamber, an exact replica of an antique that was found in the dungeon of the French chateau, Chenoceaux. The rack was designed to elicit confessions from criminals and witches and in certain cases to actually punish criminals. Given that different versions of the French rack were used for several centuries by the criminal justice system it must have been highly effective.

On a lark I had once let Trace put me in the General's rack and stretch me. It was a horrible experience for me but Trace said he enjoyed making me scream. Once you have a person stretched on the rack you can do pretty much anything you want with them. Trace had dropped hot candle wax on my armpits to see how loud he could make me yell. He'd also let several large gobs of molten beeswax land on my nipples and the little man in the boat. My sister-in-law, Mary Ellen, had sat nearby masturbating while Trace tortured me. Trace and Mary Ellen were always close. I know she must miss him terribly now that he is gone.

One of the favorites of the French court of criminal justice was a form of water torture that made use of the rack. Criminals were sentenced to spend time in the rack with fourteen pints of water forced down their gullet.

The funnel poised over my mouth made me think that was going to be my fate. I recalled seeing an old print of a naked woman in exactly my situation. A torturer was pouring some sort of foul concoction in the funnel as his helper lashed the woman's distended abdomen. The woman's midsection was elevated in the same way as mine. Whoever put me here must have seen the same print. The legend at the bottom of the page had said such punishment was incredibly painful. As of late, I seemed to be having my share of nasty encounters with things French.

Cory looked quite sexy in her diplomat's pin stripped suit. Her skirt was bunched at her waist and her panties were rolled down below her knees. She was wearing heels and lace toped stay up hose. I would have gotten turned on if I weren't in agonizing pain. I watched helpless as she carefully positioned her urethra over the funnel. I could tell she didn't want to waste a drop.

"I've been drinking iced tea and holding it all morning in anticipation of this moment. Of course for a piss slut like you having a tummy full of warm urine is a treat," said Cory in her Southern accent as she started her flow. A few drops landed on my face but the funnel mouth caught most of it and I felt the warm liquid course down my esophagus into my stomach. The stench of fresh urine filled my nostrils.

"You're enjoying this too much, Rozz," said Cory.

"Rokie, make her uncomfortable," she said to one the goons who was standing nearby. That was the first I learned they had a name. Rokie grabbed the spoke arms of the windless and turned it. He ratcheted me up a notch then kept pressing. My joints signaled my brain they were in excruciating pain.

I screamed as best as I could with my throat full of rubber tubing. Cory laughed and restarted her flow.

"There, that's a girl. You scream all you want, honey, little old Cory Lewis from Plaquemine Parish, Louisiana is going to fill your little tummy with her peepee. Yes, that's more like it, Rokie, keep the pressure on," said Cory noting with satisfaction the horrified look on my face.

I had no idea why Cory had it in for me. I had only casually met her a few times. Once was at an embassy party and then again at several parties at the palaces in Partyville. I had not had sex with her or done anything to piss her off that I could think of.

"And since you're General Donaldson's daughter-in-law, I have a special treat for you. I ate some of the local fruit for breakfast so my caca would be nice and loose. I must have some kind of allergic reaction to it because it always irritates my bowels. Maybe I have irritable bowel syndrome. It should slide right down into your tummy," said Cory once again stopping her pee. I heard something a little more solid land with a splat in the funnel.

"There's nothing more satisfying than a good shit. Don't you agree, Rozz?" said Cory with her eyes closed concentrating on emptying her bowels. I like a good shit as well as the next woman but that didn't mean I enjoyed swallowing hers.

"Again, Rokie, make Rozz appreciate all we are doing for her," said Cory as she managed to really open up her bowels. The smell of some very foul excrement assaulted my nose. It sounded like she was taking the dump of a lifetime.

"Here, how about a Dirty Sanchez?" said Cory reaching back to dip two fingers into her shit then rubbing them slowly across my upper lip. She repeated that several times even slipping her brown-coated fingers into my nostrils.

"There, a perfect Dirty Sanchez, Rokie, don't you think Rozz looks like a Mexican bandito?" said Cory. I gave Cory high marks in taunting. She had a gift for it. Rokie responded by pressing the windlass making me think he was going to rip my arms off.

"How about a little taste?" asked Cory as she placed two shit covered fingers in my mouth and coated my tongue with her excrement. Ugh, it was not what I would call flavorful.

Around me I could hear my fellow victims complaining as the goons and the Sheik pissed in the funnel mouths.

Cory alternated her piss and shit while Rokie made me inches taller. Feeling your stomach slowly fill with another person's shit is a never to be forgotten experience. I was feeling full by the time she was done. She reached back to the crack of her ass, grabbed the residue and rubbed it over my face. The she calmly climbed off and wiped her ass with a rag. Cory was standing between the Marcy and my rack when she decided to give Marcy some of her attention.

"Sorry Marcy, but I am all out of fresh shit. Rozz hogged it all but I did save something special for you and the other. A girl has to plan ahead if she wants to have a good time."

I glanced sideways as Cory walked over to a tote bag labeled "U.S. State Department" over an emblem of Old Glory and extracted three Tupperware containers.

"Be right back, girls," chirped Cory running off somewhere after putting the Tupperware back in the tote bag.

When I looked down, I did not recognize my abdomen. I looked eight months pregnant. Around me, I could hear Marcy, Nancy, and Amy moaning, grunting, and whimpering. The goons had finished pissing in the funnels. Marcy's belly the only one I could see other than my own looked about to burst. A spidery network of blue veins was clearly visible through the translucent skin.

"How did we survive without microwaves?" said Cory returning with her Government Issue tote bag.

"Hope this doesn't burn the inside of your tummy," said Cory popping the top off a Tupperware container. A cloud of steam wafted out. Cory gave the contents a quick stir with a wooden spoon.

"Have a taste, Marcy. I think this is from Sunday morning because Saturday night I was at a party at the Spanish Embassy and they served the most delicious paella," said Cory placing the spoon in Marcy's mouth. I could hear poor Marcy sputtering, trying to spit the shit out.

"Rokie, make Marcy taller," said Cory.

By turning my head to the side, I could see Marcy writhe in pain as Rokie worked the windlass.

"Enjoy," laughed Cory as she dumped the concoction in Marcy's funnel. She used the wooden spoon to scrape the container clean.

"And here is a little warm pee to wash it down," said Cory pouring the yellow contents of a Tupperware pitcher down Marcy's funnel.

Cory moved on to Nancy depositing another container of microwaved feces washed down with a slug of hot piss in her belly. When Cory was finished with Amy, she noticed that the piss pitcher was still half full.

"Here, I'll just top you all off," said Cory was she went among us pouring a small measure of the yellow contents into the funnel until the pitcher was empty.

I was sweating like a pig. All that warm liquid inside me caused me to heat up. I seriously doubted whether any of my joints would ever work again and I was nauseated beyond anything I had ever experienced. But Cory was not done with us.

"I got to get some images to email to my mommy and daddy. All their friends in Baton Rouge just love scat," said Cory reaching over to extract a camera from her handbag. She took a dozen shots of the others and me stretched in the rack our faces smeared with shit. Her remark about her parents gave me the urge to look up Cory's parents. How many daughters share their parent's scat fetish?

It was mid morning on the third day after our torture on the wheel. For the past two days, we had been mostly left alone in our cell to recuperate.

The doctor had checked us both days pleased with himself that we had not come down with some horrible disease. Any attempt to speak with the doctor or his nurse resulted in a bitch slap by one of the goons. The doctor informed us that our blood work showed we had not caught any nasty little microbe from being repeatedly dipped in Kuwaiti shit. The doctor attributed that to the booster shot of antibiotics he had provided.

We were not left entirely alone. Frequently during the two days, one or more of the goons had shown up and pointed to one of us. They didn't speak a word and to this day I do not know where they were capable of human speech. We quickly learned they communicated with us by pulling our hair and slapping our face. Their hard little hands like to grab our nipples and drag us around too.

On these visits, if they pointed your way you could avoid being slapped silly by proceeding immediately to your tiny bed, lying on your back and spreading your legs as wide as possible.

"Hurry up, Brad, stick it in. Jennifer will be home soon," I said to amuse the others. As the senior officer present I had a duty to keep morale up.

Brad would hop up on the bed like a chimp in heat and work his pecker in my hole.

"Oh, Brad, you are so handsome and sexy, fuck me, Brad, fuck me long and deep, lover," I would cry out as I wrapped my legs around his toad like body and pumped him just like he really was Brad Pitt.

In spite of my carrying on the goons didn't react. They didn't believe in any form of fore play. We girls continually didled out clit to keep our twats oiled just in case.

I tried without success to make friends by offering oral sex or being very responsive during normal intercourse.

"Fuck me, Weirdo, fuck me hard," I screamed as I wrapped my arms around him and passionately kissed his rubbery lips. The other three nurses also tried to engage the goons in various ways without success. We did the flirt thing: batted our eyes, swayed our hips, ground our pussies against their groin and in general acted like they were the greatest lovers we had ever encountered. We even played some games. As soon as we heard the key in the lock, all four of us would jump in bed, assume the position, and start fingering our clit and pussy.

"Do me. I'm so horny," one of us would shout.

"No me, I'm so horny," would yell another.

They ignored us. Their imagination was severely limited. Sex was mainly missionary position for vaginal intercourse. If a goon wanted anal, he would grab you by the hair and reposition you on all fours. At the end of the second day, I finally got one of them to accept a blowjob. Nancy also had a break through when one of the goons let her rim his asshole while he fucked Amy. We seemed to be making some kind of progress.

From a biological point of view, one could debate whether the goons were Homo sapiens or a separate species, at the least a sub-species. They had zero body hair. Their skin was albino-fair but they lacked the white body hair and pink eyes of a true albino. They were short; maybe 5'5" was the tallest but extremely strong and agile. They never wore any clothes. Amy said they reminded her of Amazonian tribesmen that had been bleached.

Given that we were nurses and had taken extensive courses in zoology, we discussed where they stood in the tree of man. We debated whether to name them Homo goonius or Homo cretinius. We decided they were somewhere between Neanderthal and Modern Man. We could have liked to dissect one to find out for sure.

Their semen didn't taste human. I confirmed that. It reminded me of dog cum.

On the morning of the third day, we had another examination with the Doctor and his nurse. She was skinny to the point of being emaciated. She wore all black and kept her hair covered indicating she was a devout Muslim woman. While the doctor who hadn't fucked any of us but did seem to have a thing for cavity exams was putting his latex clad fingers up Marcy's cunt, I managed to stand beside the nurse without the goons noticing. I casually let my hand fall to the side then ever so slowly moved it to where it rested on the Arab nurse's buttock. I expected her to scream and tell one of the goons to slap the shit out of me. But to my surprise, she didn't move. In fact, I got the sense that she pressed her little rear back into my hand. We stood there watching Marcy then Nancy have their cavity inspection before the doctor asked for something and the nurse had to move away.

When it was my turn I hopped up on the examination table and placed my feet in the stirrups. There's something erotic about the position. The management of the Hellfire Club bought a used examination table and maintains a supply of disposable vaginal and anal speculums. I'd been more than willing to spend sometime on the table with my holes cranked open for the Saturday night crowd. They club kept a flashlight at hand for those individuals who believe there is something magic deep inside a girl's asshole.

The Arab doctor used old style chromed steel instruments that actually work better if you discount the sterilization issue. When the doctor had his fingers in my cunt, I gave it a powerful squeeze with my Kegel muscles. That caused the good doctor to smile at me. The goon's attention appeared to be engaged elsewhere so I took a chance and whispered, "My friends and I would love to fuck you. We'll take you around the world."

The doctor looked around to check that no one was listening. Then he said, "We'll see what can be arranged."

When the exam was over, we four were not taken back to our cell but to a large room where there were four French racks. "Oh shit," I whispered to myself when I surveyed the room. The place was obviously a torture chamber.

The goons made us remove our robes then placed us in the racks stretching our arms and legs until we started screaming. Marcy was one side of me. Nancy was screaming her lungs out on the other side. When we were stretched to the point of breaking, they inserted the steel speculums in our mouth and cranked them open. You can't exactly talk when your mouth is wide open. You can make noise.

The Arab nurse showed up with lengths of surgical tubing. She skillfully threaded them into our esophagus and down our gullet until they passed the stomach valve or lower esophageal sphincter or LES as we nurses refer to it. ER's that frequently have to pump the stomach of drug overdose and suicide patients usually have nurses that are expert at the technique.

The goons placed a large funnel in a metal stand over our head and the nurse connected the tubing to the bottom end of the funnel. Our nurse made a final inspection that all was well. Then she left for a few minutes. When she came back, she brought the doctor.

He went over to a sink filled a beaker with water then added a blue powder and stirred it with a glass rod. He fixed four beakers. The nurse dutifully took each of the beakers and dumped them in our funnels. I started to feel full after one.

The doctor and nurse waited a few minutes then they gave us another liter. The sensation went from full to painful. There was another wait before they added a third liter. Now I knew how a French peasant felt who had been apprehended poaching the Marquis's deer. I was hurting. We were all whimpering and sobbing when the Sheik and Cory arrived.

It was at that point that Cory added her piss and shit to the mixture inside our stomach. The Sheik and the goons contributed their urine to the party. Belly full to bursting our nurse carefully removed the funnel and tubing. French water torture is absolute agony. If I ever wanted to die it was lying there with my joints in absolute agony and my stomach creating an internal source of pain that made me feel that each of my organs, liver, kidneys, pancreas, spleen, etc were being crushed in a vise. I developed a grudging respect for the French's savvy in knowing how to really hurt a girl.

Just when you thing that matters cannot get worse you are proven wrong. I took a look sideways and didn't like what I saw.

The Sheik was handing out thin flexible canes to his goons. Cory had undressed down to her heels and hose and was fingering her twat as she observed us. Cory was extremely attractive if you had a thing for voluptuous honey blondes with big tits and ass. Her fingers were a blur as she worked the little man in the boat. I watched amazed as she jerked herself off hitting a big 'O' that sent her writhing and twisting across the stone floor. I thought she was hot and I wanted to do her. In other circumstances we might have been friends.

A goon positioned himself beside me resting the cane across my round belly. He looked down at me and sort of smiled. When you are a goon living in a subterranean dungeon I suppose you have to learn to enjoy whatever comes your way. Caning a shit covered Army nurse with a belly like an over inflated beach ball was today's goon happy moment.

Cory had recovered from her climax and was busy sticking the suction cup end of an enormous dildo to the top of short stool. She repeated her actions with a slightly smaller dildo. Then she extracted a tube of K-Y from her tote bag and lubricated first the dildos then her orifices. The Sheik supported her as she lowered herself down on the dildos. With some serious pushing and grunting she managed to achieve double penetration. I estimated that the big dildo was a good foot up her large intestine and the smaller one well inside her uterus. But she looked happy.

The Sheik parted his robes to reveal an impressive uncut penis that he offered to Cory. Cory got busy teasing the foreskin with her mouth. The Sheik barked an order to the goons. Seconds later my goon landed the cane across my stomach and I screamed like a banshee. Goddamn that hurt. It was the kind of hurt the body does not want to bear for one second. Our goons fell into a regular rhythm of caning us. They went in sequence so each of us could hear the other being whipped.

Cory was busy. One hand was busy working her clit as she raised the lowered herself on the stool. The other hand was massaging the Sheik's balls as she sucked his cock. She had one eye on the four of us being caned. The multi-processing bitch was multi-orgasmic.

I have no idea how long we were caned. My belly slowly turned into one enormous purple bruise with yellow highlights.

Finally I saw that the Sheik was getting to his big 'O'. He jerked his hips as he spewed in her mouth. She gave him a big finish. Well he was a fabulously wealthy Sheik.

The Sheik commanded the goons to stop. My goon looked a trifle disappointed that he had not been allowed to cane me to death. I felt like he was close. Several places on my belly were oozing blood.

I watched as Cory slowly stood up extracting the dildos from the holes. She walked over to Amy, hesitated a moment then jumped into the air coming down butt first on Amy's belly. Poor Amy spewed like an erupting volcano. Puke practically hit the very high ceiling. Cory repeated her action twice more until Amy emptied.

Next she did Nancy and Marcy. Cory was covered in dripping vomit when she got to me.

"Saved you for last, Rozz," said Cory as she used a finger to wipe puke from her eye sockets. She started to jump on my gut then thought better of it.

She ran over and grabbed the stool quickly removing the dildos. She placed the stool at the side of my rack and stepped up on it.

"A little extra height will make it more fun," said Cory.

I watched as the Embassy's official spokesperson launched herself high in the air coming downing with an enormous splat on a belly that had been stretched and caned to a point beyond human misery. Vomit spewed like the water show at that Las Vegas hotel. It all came up in one great torrent. What I hadn't realized was that there were two possible exits and I felt my asshole open and spray like the nozzle on a power washer.

"I need a shower," calmly announced Cory when she had finished. She was covered from head to toe in our vomit. I decided at that moment she was certifiably insane.

The Sheik barked an order and everyone quickly left the room. Whoever left last switched off the light. The four of us were left for what seemed forever. We laid there in the dark, lying in runny shit, covered in puke, our stomach a fiery source of pain with our joints on the very verge of dislocation.

We four were borderline insane when the goons finally showed up to release us and take us to the showers for another scrubbing with those brushes that removed both dirt and the outer layer of our skin.

Chapter 38 – Crucifixion

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material or if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file and story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

"Don't," I pleaded as one of the goons positioned the point of the iron spike in the palm of my hand. The sharpened iron indented the soft flesh of my hand. Four of them were holding me down as the one called Rokie raised the mallet to strike. I wanted to close my eyes but for some reason couldn't as the mallet head descended to strike the flat head of the spike driving it through my palm into the rough wood. Blood spurted from the wound splattering the goon's white hand. A white hot flash of excruciating agony shot upward through my arm expressing a pain so intense that it's impossible to describe.

I writhed against the goons firm hold on me as the rough iron penetrated my flesh passing between my second and third metacarpal bones wedging them aside to exit the back of my hand to find a home in the wood. A second blow from the mallet wedged the bones further apart creating an appalling agony. A third blow drove the spike's flat head flush against my palm. There was surprisingly little blood for something so devastating to flesh, bone, and blood.

One by one that had come for us that morning. Amy had been first. She went along quietly with the goons unknowing of her fate. We remaining three had to wait only a few minutes before we heard Amy's screams interspersed by the sounds of hammering.

"Jesus, what are they doing to her?" asked Marcy.

I had my suspicions but I had kept them to myself. They took a struggling and begging Marcy next.

Nancy and I waited only a few minutes before we heard Marcy scream, "Oh my God, no, please don't." That was followed by more cries then horrible screams punctuated the sounds of hammering.

It took four of the goons to peel Nancy off the furniture and drag her out of the room. When they finally managed to get her to standing, Rokie delivered a couple of punches to her mid section that took the fight out of her. I was left alone. It was quiet for several minutes then Nancy started up.

"God no, anything but that. You're ripping me apart," screamed Nancy.

Then the hammering and the screaming started. I tried putting my hands over my ears but her cries were too loud.

When they came for me I didn't resist. They marched me naked a few steps down the hall to one of the dungeons. Like I said, I had a pretty good idea what was going on. Still when I saw my three friends nailed to rough wooden crosses with bloody spikes in the center of their hands and feet I lost it. I tried to run but one of the goons kicked my feet out from under me before I had traveled even a quarter of the distance to the door.

My cross was lying flat on the ground. Someone had added a few wrinkles to the design that Christ was crucified on. They had nailed a wedge of wood about half way down and attached a super sized butt plug to the top of the wedge. It was the sort that gay men use to loosen their butts up for fist fucking. It was cone shaped with a pointed tip on the top slating outward to a diameter of six to eight inches. No doubt that was going up my ass if it could possibly fit. And I had a feeling the goons were going to make it fit.

The cross piece for the arms looked like what you would expect but there was a smaller cross piece at the bottom for my feet. My legs would be spread wide when they were nailed. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out why they wanted my legs spread.

The goons coated the butt plug from a squeeze bottle of lubricant. I bent over reaching back to spread my butt cheeks so he could coat my brown eye. I figured cooperation would lessen the pain level. One of them did me the favor of squirting lube in my crack and working it with his stubby fingers. The goons seemed to be in a hurry. They quickly positioned me on my back holding my legs apart while they placed the pointed tip of the butt plug in the center of my anus and pulled my legs.

"Of fuck, that's too large," I protested as I felt my anal ring attempting to stretch around the cone. A goon applied more lube to the butt plug. With a hard shove accompanied by my cry of anguish, the largest circumference of the plug managed to get past my butt ring and close around the smaller neck of the plug. The pain emanating from my unnaturally stretched rectum was more than just discomfort. I felt like someone had shoved a watermelon up my ass.

"They've ruined my butthole. It'll never close," sobbed Marcy.

A goon responded to Marcy's outburst by grabbing a quirt off a nearby wall and delivering half dozen hard vicious blows to her tits. Her screams joined my own as Rokie drove a spike through my other hand.

Hands securely spiked and rectum filled to the bursting point with the butt plug, the goons lifted the cross off the floor to where I was upright, positioned the end over a round hole in the floor and allowed it to drop into the hole. When the bottom of the cross came to an abrupt halt against the masonry it sent a shock wave through my body that occasioned my loudest possible scream. Rokie fitted shims in the round hole and pounded them home to secure me upright.

I looked down to see one of them place a longer and thicker spike at the top of my ankle. Another goon had immobilized my legs with a leather strap. He pressed the point through my flesh and a small well of blood appeared surrounding the puncture. I screamed as the point scratched against my first and second metatarsal. The goon with the spike looked up at me and smiled then rubbed the point of the spike along the top of the metatarsal. There is a certain body of thought at the NYC Hellfire Club that bone scrapping is about the most painful torture ever devised. I've seen a Master insert a sterilized hatpin under the sub's skin and run the tip along the outside of a rib. There are very few subs that can endure more than a few seconds of this. Salome who has the reputation of being the ultimate painslut told me it was hell on earth and two minutes of feeling that sharp metal point scrap over the surface of a rib was an eternity of pain.

I only had to endure a few moments before Rokie gestured for the other goon to get on with it. I looked down to see Rokie raise his trusty wooden mallet then bring it down directly on the spike. White spots of pain blinded me as Rokie hammed. The sheer horror of the sensation of the sharp metal exiting the sole of my foot and entering the wood drove me to the brink of insanity.

I read once that while the Romans did not invent crucifixion they perfected it. Supposedly it is about as painful way to die as any ever devised by man. A Roman general crucified 3,000 of Spartacus' rebellious slaves along the Apian Way. That included women and children.

We four faced each other in a small square. Marcy was directly across from me maybe six feet. Her tits were covered in bleeding red stripes. Nancy and Amy were to my left and right.

Rokie performed a final inspection and then the goons packed up their tools and left.

"Do you think this is it for us, Rozz?" asked Amy once we were alone.

"I hope it is," said Nancy. "I can't take anymore I want to die."

"I'm not sure, Nancy. For some reason I think our friend from the embassy is going to show up for more of her demented entertainment," I said.

"Why don't the bitch just kill us and get it over with?" said Marcy. "If I ever get off this, I'll have to wear a diaper for the rest of my life."

Crucifixion is not something that dulls with time. The pain slowly grows. The four of us were left to suffer for God knows how long. Somehow it was worse that we could see each other suffer. Poor Marcy, the goon had really done a job on her boobs. They were slowly turning dark purple with yellow streaks.

After what felt like forever, the door opened and Cory Lewis, the Sheik, and Rokie came in. Cory was dressed like she had just arrived from an embassy party. She was wearing a short black cocktail dress. She looked very fetching. The Sheik was dressed in a tuxedo so he must have been at the same party.

"Hello ladies, are you enjoying your crucifixion?" said Cory breezily.

Rokie had brought a plastic chair for the Sheik. I watched as one of the world's richest men slipped his jacket off handing it to Rokie to hang on a wall hook. The Sheik removed his cummerbund, slipped his suspenders off his shoulders and dropped his trousers and boxer shorts. He snapped his fingers at Rokie and the No. 1 goon dropped to his knees and started giving the Sheik head. Rokie was a noisy cocksucker who gave the impression that blowing the Sheik was a great honor for a lowly goon.

Cory slipped out of her dress and underwear then turned toward the four of us.

You girls want to fuck?" asked Cory rubbing her big knockers that she had just freed from a bra.

What we girls wanted was to have the spikes removed followed by medical attention and serious painkillers.

"I've brought a fuck suit designed specifically for this occasion," said Cory opening a large briefcase she had brought and pulling out something that looked like a body suit with a lot of hardware attached.

I couldn't get a good look at it until she slipped into the garment and walked over to the Sheik.

"Zip me up, sweetie," said Cory and the Sheik obliged, as Rokie never missed a suck.

"Amy, you get to go first," said Cory turning toward Amy.

The appellation, 'fuck suit' was accurate. It was a skin tight body shut that hugged Cory from her neck to her ankles. There were clamps attached to the suit's breasts and crotch. What was truly terrifying was that there was an enormous spiny dong hanging down from her crotch that must have been a good fifteen inches long. It was covered in hard rubber bristles pointing both forward and backward. There was something odd about the shape of the rubber cock head. It seemed small for such a massive dong.

"I had this made when I was stationed at the Embassy in Berlin. The Walfen SS are responsible for the original design. It was used to rape Jewish girls. It's got a special feature. Here, I'll demonstrate," said Cory waving the big dick in the air. She reached back into the briefcase and came up with what I took to be a small bicycle pump. She connected the pump to a tube built into the suit and gave it a quick half dozen strokes. We watched in horror as the cock head grew much larger that the shaft. There were sharp spines covering the round surface. Cory touched a button on the pump and the cockhead deflated.

Cory squirted lube over the dong, parted Amy's labia, positioned the cock head at her hole and slowly eased in about six inches as poor little Amy writhed and screamed.

"Take it our. You're ripping me apart," begged Amy.

"Oh sweetie, you haven't felt anything yet. This is going to be the fuck of a lifetime for your Army sluts. Here, let me show you the other features," said Cory pulling out one of the metal clamps that were on retraction chords. Cory grabbed Amy's nipple, stretched it out to where Amy started whimpering then let the open jaws snap shut.

"Hurts like hell doesn't it," said Cory when Amy screamed in pain. Cory applied the other clamp then leaned back to stretch Amy's boobs out.

"This is where it gets tricky," said Cory as she reached down and took Amy's clit in her fingernails, extended it and let the jaws snap shut eliciting another of Amy's most heart felt screams.

"Now we're almost ready. I just have to jam my peter home," said Cory tilting her pelvis to drive the rubber cock as deep into Amy as she could force it.

"Now let's pump her up," said Cory giving the bicycle pump a half dozen strokes.

You could actually see Amy's hips widening. Blood started to seep down on to her thighs.

"My insides are being shredded," screamed Amy.

"I wouldn't doubt it. The last woman I used this on bled to death through her pussy," said Cory as she started to vigorously fuck Amy.

Cory fucked Amy until she fainted and no amount of slapping could wake her. Next she went to work on Nancy who didn't last as long as Amy. The dong was covered in blood when she pushed it up Marcy's snatch. Marcy was a tough one and she lasted a while before shock overcame her.

"Your turn, Rozz," said Cory pushing the end of that cock in my hole. "You're going to take the whole thing," she said slamming her crotch against mine until somehow she managed to drive that rubber dick to where I could feel her crotch tight against mine.

The clamps were nasty and set my tits and clit on fire but it was when she inflated that cock head I lost control and started shrieking.

"Oh, does it hurt your little pussy?" taunted Cory as she pulled that rubber dick back several inches then slammed it home. I could feel the sharp spines gouging out groves in my vagina and uterus. It seemed like Cory fucked me forever but eventually she ran out of steam and stopped. I was only semi-conscious when she ripped that punishment pecker out of my twat. I felt the flow of warm blood on my thighs.

Cory slipped off the fuck suit and walked naked over to Rokie and the Sheik. She bent over presenting her ass to the Sheik. She reached back spreading her cheeks with her hands. The Sheik stood up positioned his cock at her brown eyes and shoved it home. She jerked her clit as the Sheik fucked her ass. He blew his load pretty quick.

"Do you think they will live for the final round?" asked Cory walking between each of us. She cupped our chin raised our head and examined us.

"At least one or two will live. You know how much I enjoy it when we mutilate them," replied the Sheik as he put his cock back in his pants.

"We'll see. They look pretty fucked to death. Let's give them another three hours on the cross and if any of them survive, we can cut them up next week,' said Cory reaching back into her briefcase to extract a number of what I would call elastic bungee chords with razor sharp hooks on the end.

I recall Rokie clamping my nostrils shut. Then Cory reached in when I opened my mouth to breathe and grabbed the tip of my tongue in a hemostat. I felt a sharp, stabbing pain in both sides of my tongue. She had put a large fishhook through both sides of my tongue. My entire body was in a state of unbearable pain.

"Time for you to join the party, Nancy," said Cory as she grabbed the tip of Nancy's tongue in the hemostat, stretched it out, than hooked the end of my chord to the side of her tongue.

I had to give Cory points for S&M imagination. I'd never seen anything like her 'fuck suit' or the use of fishhooks to connect sensitive body parts of crucified women. And I was a woman who prided herself for having seen and experienced much of what the sado-masochistic world had to offer.

The other side of Nancy's tongue was connected to Marcy whose opposite side was hooked to Amy who in turn was connected back to me. Each of us wound up with our tongue being painfully pulled in two opposite directions. I kept swallowing my own blood from the slowly seeping wounds made by the fishhooks.

"You look like a musical instrument," said Cory strumming the chord between Marcy and me. It set all out tongue to twitching plus it hurt like all hell.

Cory selected one of the large chords.

"Ever do any fishing, Rozz?' asked Cory holding up the end of the chord that contained a fish hook large enough to catch a Great White shark with.

"A little, please don't," I muttered.

"I have with my father up on the Finger Lakes. Daddy loved to fish. Mommy hated it so she stayed home. Daddy took my sister, Charlene, and me every summer. We'd stay at this nice B&B on Lake Canandaigua. The Seneca Indians named it that. Mr. And Mrs. John Raines owned the place. After we had fished all day and had the most delicious meal, Daddy and the Raines would play games with Charlene and me in the basement of the residence. We'd all get naked and do naughty things. I loved them but Charlene, she was older than me, said they weren't right and told Mommy what Daddy and Raines did to us. Mommy just had a fit about it and forced Daddy to move away. I hated Mommy for making Daddy go and I hated Charlene for telling about it. I ran away to live with Daddy when I was old enough. He taught me lots of interesting new games," said Cory looking as if she was recalling happy memories from her childhood.

"You are one sick cunt," I managed to whisper in spite of my tongue being stretched two inches out of my mouth.

"Daddy taught me that you always hook a minnow underneath then bring the hook right up through the top," said Cory as she pushed the point through the underside of my breast. She used both hands to drive the point deep in the center of my boob and then up through the top exiting at the center of my nipple. The sight of a fishhook exiting the center of your bud is not pleasant.

"Right on the mark," said Cory pleased with her work.

She did the other breast then worked her way around the room to where we were interconnected. The bungee chords were strong and they pulled hard. It felt like my knocker was being ripped off my chest.

Cory interconnected our labia in the same fashion. She placed the hooks at the base of our labia major where they hurt like hell. When she was done, she and Rokie carefully climbed out of the center of the four us without disturbing the connections. I had just enough presence of mind left to take a good look at Marcy. She looked like something out of the Marquis de Sade's most vivid and appealing nightmare.

Her hands and feet were covered in blood as she hung forward pinned in place by the spikes. Her anus like mine was stretched around a butt plug that looked more like a novelty item than anything one would really use on a human being. Her tongue, breasts, and labia were obscenely stretched to one side. Drops of blood were slowly oozing out of her pussy onto thighs already coated crimson. We all looked the same if not worse.

Cory walked over to her brief case and removed two sets of wooden drumsticks. She handed the Sheik a set. That was when things got truly weird. They took up positions at each corner and began to strike the bungee chords with the wooden sticks. They would tap the top chord then the breast chord then the labia chord. It was both incredibly painful and bizarre. They began to sing some fucking Arab song as the got into a complicated rhythm. I could feel the hooks in my tongue starting to tear the flesh.

After a while, the singing ran its course and they stopped. Cory packed up her kit in the suitcase and slipped back in her clothes. She was about to leave when she had second thoughts and stepped back inside the square, not an easy thing to do in high heels. She got right in my face, grabbed the chords attached to my breasts and pulled them to get my attention. I was too far-gone to do anything other than moan loudly.

"I hope you live, Rozz. Because next week, I'm going to slowly mutilate you. I plan to start by cutting your tits off. Then I'll do your ears and nose, all your fingers and toes. You'll be begging me to kill you before I'm done," whispered Cory.

Then they were gone and we were left alone in the dark. I passed in and out of consciousness. At some point, I recall the lights going back on and someone cutting the barbed ends of the hooks off then removing them. I remember it was difficult to get my tongue back in my mouth. It hurt like hell when they pried the spikes out of my feet and hands. The worst part was when they pulled that butt plug out of my ass.

I have a vague remembrance of being carried back to my cell. Then I recall the doctor saying, "Their vital signs are good. They'll live. But I can't speak to their mental state. They may be mad as hatters."

Chapter 39 – Breakout

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material or if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file and story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

"Oh shit," I said as I placed some weight on the sole of my foot. It had been four full days since I was crucified. I'd determined I had two choices. Return to full mobility or sit quietly while Cory Lewis sawed my boobs off. So in spite of the agonizing pain shooting up my calves I took several steps. I kept reminding myself that Cory had said our next session would be our last.

Getting to the commode on the second day had been an agonizing experience. On my knuckles and knees I managed to crawl to the crapper. I almost fainted when I passed a turd. I'd spent an afternoon with my rectum wrapped around a butt plug the size of a football. My anal ring felt like a rubber band that had lost all its snap. If I lived I had to consider the possibility that I would never again enjoy an ass fucking.

The four of us surprised ourselves by surviving. Amy's head was still fucked up. She mumbled to herself and had a vacant stare. She kept waking us up in the middle of the night screaming. Marcy, Nancy, and myself appeared to be mentally okay. I'm not sure a clinical psychologist would agree. Mentally we were fucked but still physically functional to a degree.

"Get up and walk everyone. That's an order," I said as I slowly moved about the cell.

"My feet hurt too much," said Nancy.

"I said get the fuck up. That crazy bitch is going to cut our tits off and kill us next time. We've got to get out of here," I screamed grabbing Nancy and pulling her upright. In a few minutes, nasty Rozz had all four of us shuffling slowly around the cell.

I racked my brain trying to think of an escape plan but as it turned out, it was the Arab nurse that gave us our chance. As a result I'm part owner of a Mobil Mart in Mobile, Alabama. Each day the doctor and nurse showed up to treat our wounds. I planned to get them to help us.

The goons considered us so messed up they let their guards down. They were disappointed when they discovered that our butts were too loose and pussies too shredded to have intercourse. The doctor ordered them to leave us alone. The horny little motherfuckers were reduced to watching us through our cell door and jerking off. You could tell they missed getting a regular piece of ass. What else does a goon have to look forward to?

By the fifth day, I felt well enough to offer one of the goons a blowjob. Oral sex appeared new to the goons but they were adaptable and in lieu of anything else they would stand quietly while I sucked their fat cocks and played handball with their nut sack until they provided a couple of teaspoons of thin runny semen to swallow.

We four decided to act worse off than we really were. In Amy's case, she didn't have to act. Our chance came on the sixth day when we were taken to the cell where the doctor and nurse were waiting to treat us.

For the first time, the four goons left us alone with the doctor and nurse. They locked the cell door and left. Amy went in the stirrups first. She stayed calm as the doctor inserted the speculum.

"May I look? I'm a nurse." I whispered when he was looking up her hole. I was afraid the goons might be just outside the door listening.

"You're a nurse?" said the doctor.

"All four of are. Actually, I'm an OR supervisor," I said looking at the grooves that Cory had carved in the walls of Amy's vagina.

"It appears to be healing all right," said the doctor.

"It's not going to matter if they kill us."

"That's something I have no control over."

"You could help us escape."

"The Sheik is a very cruel man. He would bring me, my wife, and children here and we would not die quickly."

"All I'm asking for is a chance. The Sheik wouldn't have to know you helped us. If we had the key to our cell, that would be enough. We can take it from there."

"I'm sorry but I can't risk it," said the doctor. "Please leave me alone or I'll call the guards."

I retreated to the other side of the examination room. It was Nancy's turn on the table. I stepped close to the nurse.

"If you help us, I will see that you get to America. My father-in-law is a high-ranking general officer in the army and I am a rich woman. I'll set you up in a 24-hour convenience store franchise of your choice," I whispered as I ran my hand over her skinny buttocks.

"Store 24 or a Mobil Mart?" she whispered back.

"Your choice depends on whether you want to retail gasoline."

"My name is Amalia Al-Rashad."

"I'm Captain Rosalind Donaldson. Amalia, you got a choice to make. You can stay here and continue to help the Sheik torture or dismember innocent women or you can do something to stop him. My husband is in the Special Forces. They'll take care of the Sheik. One of these days the Sheik may decide that you and the doctor have seen too much. At that point, he'll let that crazy bitch go to work on the two of you."

"I fear that day is coming. The Americans are searching everywhere for the four of you. The doctor is afraid and he has a very large family. I have only my brother to be concerned with. I would need for him to come to America with me."

"It takes at least two people to operate a Mobil Mart," I said.

"I will try but I cannot promise anything," said Amalia.

That seemed a slim hope but it was better than nothing. Tomorrow was the seventh day and I had a feeling that Cory would be showing up with a surgical saw. It was later when the four of us were back in our cell that I heard someone taping lightly on the door. I quickly stepped to the small grate. There was Amalia.

"Here," whispered Amalia passing two keys through the door. One was the large one for the door. I had no idea what the smaller one was for.

"What's this for?" I asked holding up the small key.

"There's a cabinet down the hall that contains weapons," said Amalia.

"Thanks, we'll handle it from here. Be careful."

I hid the keys for later then I made an announcement.

"Next goon that come here gets his brains fucked out. I mean full around the world treatment. I want him sucked, rimmed, and fucked. Fuck like a porn star," I said.

"You got to be shitting me. My cunt is full of scabs and my turds fall out if I'm not careful," said Marcy.

"Look, we can skip anal. Our butts are too loose anyway. But we got to get some kind of edge and wearing these bastards out by screwing them is the only option we have. Now my tongue is heeled up enough to suck cock. I proved that yesterday. Listen, soldiers, we got two choices, fuck or die."

I wasn't sure they were up for it because everyone got quiet like they were thinking. It wasn't long before the door opened and in stepped a goon. He was just performing a periodic check.

But as soon as he entered, crazy Amy stood up, walked over and put her hand on his cock and started wanking it with one hand as she worked his nut sack with the other. She even leaned in and kissed him on the lips. None of us had ever kissed a goon. At first, he jerked back then he decided that kissing wasn't so bad. Amy wrapped her little body around the chubby little bastard and unleashed her sexual woman.

That's the horny insatiable bitch woman that comes out after you been out on the dance floor for several hours. The salsa music is red hot. You're dripping perspiration. You've done several shots and swallowed some X. You grinded twenty people you don't know. All of a sudden some Latin stud with killer tattoos drags your hot sweaty ass off into a corner. He pushes your top up and attacks your tits like a Great White after a grouper. He shoves your thong aside as he sticks two fingers in your gooey cunt. You work his zipper down freeing his Latin meat rocket that falls out in your hand hard as a policemen's billy club. All of a sudden, you jump straight up wrapping your legs around the stud as he guides his prick in your nasty hole. It doesn't get one inch inside before you hit the big O. When you look over his shoulder you see a line of his buddies waiting their turn with you. You make a note to write your Congressmen urging him to support statehood for Puerto Rico.

The goon and Amy fell on the nearest bed where he forced his cock into her hole.

"Oh yeah, fuck me, baby, fuck me, harder, harder," screamed Amy humping her pussy up against his crotch. We'd never fucked the goons with any enthusiasm or energy. Amy screwed her goon like a woman possessed. She screamed, cursed, dug her nails into his back and pumped him until finally the goon blasted his load into her twat.

Then she turned all sweet, caressing his baldhead and cooing to him as she kissed his lips, ears, and eyes. She held him to her breast as she rubbed his back and kept whispering over and over again, "sweet little goon."

After a while, the goon slowly got up. Amy walked him to the door her arm around his shoulder. She kissed him goodbye.

I wasn't sure whether to laugh or applaud after he left. The three of us were sort of stunned.

"Is that what you meant, Captain Donaldson?" asked Amy.

"Precisely, Lieutenant, good work," I replied.

It wasn't five minutes before the door opened and the entire complement of ten horny goons arrived.

"Soldiers, the Lieutenant has shown the way. Let's show them that nobody can out fuck this woman's army," I said as the goons entered.

For the next several hours, it was non-stop goon sex. I sucked goon cock, tongued goon ass, and got as much goon dick in my pussy as I could fit. It wound up one large writhing pile of human and almost human flesh. We kept at it until they crawled out of our cell. Ever time a goon blew his load, we went to work to get him hard and pop him again. The goons discovered kissing and the pleasure of having their butt holes rimmed. At one time or another I massaged the prostate of every goon present.

We put everything we had in fucking the goons. Let's face it. Our lives depended on it.

Finally, the goons carried their limp sore dicks back to their quarters. They were pussy whipped. We sat drinking water and resting as we waited until the dungeon was quiet. Then I retrieved the keys from their hiding place and ever so quietly opened our cell door and stepped out in the corridor.

I had noticed that there were several metal wall cabinets along the wide hallway that connected the rooms of the dungeon. I used the small key to open the first cabinet I came to. I almost shouted for joy. Apparently the Sheik had placed weapons cache through the dungeon in case the goons ever needed to defend it from attackers.

In a rack were a half dozen MP-5N assault rifles, ammo clips, plus 9MM Sig Sauer semi-automatic pistols. The only thing better would have been an M-1 Abrams tank. The MP-5N was one of the weapons used by Special Operations. Trace had several different versions of the MP-5. He had even taken me to the range to fire one. I carefully inserted a thirty-two round magazine in one of the rifles, cocked it, and handed it to Marcy. In a minute or two, four heavily armed army nurses were silently creeping down the corridor toward the barracks room where the goons bunked.

Goon snores reverberated down the hall as we approached. When I looked in I saw that the goons were all sleeping peacefully in their bunks. In spite of what they had done to us, I wasn't ready to charge in and slaughter them. That was when I noticed that the heavy iron door to their barracks had a metal bar that could be used to seal the goons inside. Apparently the goon's sleeping quarters were at one time a large cell used to hold multiple prisoners.

I quietly closed the door then slid the heavy iron bar into the place. The goons were not going to escape without a blowtorch.

That was when we hit a problem. We could not find our way out of the dungeon. We explored every room of the place. The only possible way we could find was to dive into the river of shit and swim under a stonewall to whatever was on the other side.

"But there must be a way in. Else how could the doctor and nurse come here every day?" exclaimed Marcy.

"You're right. Keep searching. There has got to be an entrance," I said.

After several hours we gave up. By this time, the goons had figured out that something was not right. They made the oddest sounds when they were upset. I appeared the grate of their door, brandished my MP-5N and ordered them to be quiet. They surprised me by immediately shutting up. Respect for authority was part of the goon psyche.

I was on the way back to the others to restart our search for the exit when I heard the sound of stone moving. A section of stonewall was slowly opening to create a doorway. I waited weapon ready as the Sheik and Cory breezed through like they were on their way to the office.

"Do not move. Hands on your head," I said pointing the MP-5N at their mid section.

It was in our hearts as Americans to spare the goons but not the Sheik and Cory. The dungeon was their idea and they had been the ones who tortured us. The ignorant goons were merely their pawns. That was the way Amy explained it. That was after she had walked up to Cory and slammed the barrel of her rifle into Cory's mid section. The diplomat rolled up in a little ball and she lay on the floor screaming in pain.

Nancy dropkicked the Sheik in the nuts sending him shrieking to the same stone floor. Both Nancy and Amy went to work on Cory smashing her with the metal stocks of their MP-5N. I just stood there enjoying the show while they beat the shit out of her.

Marcy found some handcuffs in one of the dungeons. We put the two under restraint while we decided their fate.

"Listen, as much as I would like to spend the next week torturing the two of them, we still need to escape this place and Partyville," I said.

"So let's put a bullet in their head and leave," said Marcy.

"Too fucking easy for what they did to us," said Nancy.

"Let's crucify them and leave them hanging," said Amy.

"They might live," said Marcy.

"Let's use the wheels. By the time anyone comes they'll be dead," I said.

"Are you sure they will be dead?" asked Amy.

"We'll make sure of it," I said.

After considerable physical effort, we managed to get the Sheik and Cory stretched out on one of the wheels. Only the fact that Marcy is one big tall strong woman allowed for our success. I was dripping sweat by the time I could look up and see our two prisoners painfully stretched out in what I knew to be an exceedingly uncomfortable position.

The Sheik was stoic about it. He kept mumbling through smashed and bleeding lips some prayer from the Quran. Cory on the other hand was anything but quiet. She was crying and begging us not to harm her. I went out in the corridor and brought back her case. It was packed with surgical instruments.

"Let's cut their clothes off," I said handing out surgical scissors.

It took a few minutes especially with the Sheik since he was wearing his sheiks' robes. But there they were, both naked as the day they were born.

"Each of you get to remove one testicle," I said handing Nancy and Amy scalpels. "Marcy and I will work on Cory."

"You're not going to die pretty, Cory," I said as I cut off her ear. Marcy removed the other one. Cory protested loudly.

Next I inserted the end of the scalpel in her nostril and cut upward slitting her nose. I allowed my best friend the pleasure of doing the other side.

"Let's widen her smile," I said as I placed the blade in the corner of her mouth and cut three inches back toward her ear.

"God she does look ugly," said Marcy as we stepped back to admire our surgical skills.

Cory was saying something but I could not make it out. Properly forming your words is difficult when your mouth reaches from ear to ear.

I recalled from somewhere that the Byzantine Empire practiced facial mutilation as a form of punishment. Citizens of Constantinople that offended the Emperor were not killed but mutilated and allowed to live out the end of their days with butchered faces. No mater how hard you try it's hard to come up with something truly new.

"Nipples have got to go," I said as I used a hemostat to pull Cory's bud out to the max before I sliced it off at the base. Marcy deftly removed the other nipple.

"There's only one clit. Who gets it?" said Marcy.

"Rock, paper, scissors," I said.

Marcy's rock won over my scissors. I grabbed her love button and yanked it out to where it was paper-thin. Marcy's scalpel went in at the base of her clitoris. She managed to remove the entire nerve ganglia in one bloody clump. Cory showed our appreciation for our efforts by screaming.

"Excellent, Marcy, you should go to medical school and become a surgeon," I said.

We stopped after we carved off her inner and outer labia. It was getting tedious and there wasn't that much left to cut off. A quick glance at the Sheik showed that he was missing most of his facial features. People look strange with no ears or nose.

. I had to persuade Amy to throw away the Sheik's testicles. For some reason, she wanted to keep them. We released the brake on the wheel and watched for a moment as the Sheik and Cory rotated. They were still enough alive to appreciate that being dunked in shit wasn't a lot of fun.

"Time to leave, soldiers," I said.

We discovered we were deep under the earth as we climbed three flights of stairs to emerge in a billiard room of the Sheik's newly constructed palace. At the top of the landing we found our clothes in a wardrobe so we emerged dressed as we entered.

The sight of four heavily armed women dressed in high heels, mini-skirts, and glittering tops so disconcerted the Sheik's servants they ran. We fired several bursts over their head to encourage them to move quickly.

In the huge garage we could not find the SUV we arrived in but we did commandeer the Sheik's peacock blue bullet proof Rolls Royce. That was some vehicle. The interior bright work was 18k gold. We were going back in style.

At the entrance to Partyville, I had to point the MP-5N at the gate guards and tell them to raise the gate or I would kill them. That overcame their reluctance to allow the Sheik's very recognizable vehicle to depart driven by four females.

Once back at the base we discovered we had been given up for dead. We had to endlessly recount our tale to the MPs. A thorough search of the dungeon located the skeletal remains of dozens of European and American women reported missing over the last two years.

No one seemed to mention or question the fate of the Sheik and Cory Lewis. The US needs Kuwait for its oil and the Kuwaitis need the US to keep the bad guys away so all was covered up and forgotten. Who knows but Amalia and her brother may be pumping some gasoline refined from Kuwaiti oil at the moment?

I never did learn what happened to the goons. Perhaps one of the other rich Sheiks in Partyville adopted them.

I did learn that Cory Lewis had a troubled childhood exhibiting a tendency to torture and kill the neighborhood pets. She also loved to set fires. She had been institutionalized several times but finally pronounced cured. She had joined the diplomatic corps, shown skill and diligence, and been promoted. The fact that she was criminally insane had gone unnoticed.

Chapter 40 – Advancing Medicine

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material or if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file and story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

"Shit yes," I screamed then immediately followed that with a groan that could be heard from one end of Afghanistan to the other as I concentrated every muscle fiber of my being into squeezing the eleven-inch cock in my ass. I was totally focused on the sensations that began at my anal ring and traveled eleven twelfths of a foot up my ass. Since I arrived in Afghanistan six months ago, I had redoubled, no tripled, my efforts at yoga and Pilates. I was back in shape. My abdomen was a solid wall of muscle as was the lining of my cunt and asshole. At the moment, my considerable core strength was concentrated on the hard column of flesh that was ironing the wrinkles out of my bowels.

"Take it bitch," yelled Lt. Colonel Ellis Mowbray, the owner of the eleven-inch prick delivering an open palmed slap to my flank that hurt like hell and I adored. Colonel Mowbray was my commander and the finest surgeon I'd ever seen work an OR. He was also the quintessential black stud and Camp Gardez's most prominent pussy magnet. Nicknamed 'The Tripod' he, or rather his cock, was constantly in demand. The only female officers at the encampment who hadn't signed up to sample the Colonel's equipment were the deeply committed dykes. And even some of them were considering it.

"Split her in two," grunted Captain Towanda Mowbray, the Colonel's younger sister. The Captain was a brilliant world-class molecular biologist that I had moved heaven and earth to bring to Camp Gardez. The Captain was underneath me with her face between my legs. She was wearing a metal studded leather punishment harness over her head that contained a latex dildo mounted on her forehead. The dildo was buried in my cunt and its hard rubber spikes were creating incredible sensations as her bobbing head fucked my pussy while her mouth sucked on my new clitoris.

I was wearing a complementary head harness that was painfully crushing my skull. There was a similar nasty looking dildo jutting from my chin that I was slamming into Towanda's pussy. The opening of her vagina was covered in blood that I was licking up like a dog after his own shit. My mouth was working Towanda's abnormally extended clit that like mine was the product of a recent experimental and radical medical procedure. To me this was great sex.

Both head harnesses were from a design developed in Paris by an S&M club that met every weekend in an apartment near the Place de Revolution. Hooks in our nostrils painfully stretched our noses toward our forehead. There was a tightening knob at the back that the Colonel had twisted till we started screaming. Our features were completely distorted by the leather straps whose rows of protruding sharp metal studs dug painfully into our flesh and scalp. Both of our scalps were dripping blood from where the studs had broken the skin. Later when we watched the video we were amazed at how bloody Towanda and I looked. It was one scary scene the way that our faces were covered in crimson. We could have starred in 'Dawn of the Dead'. The lieutenant capturing the entire session on digital video said it reminded her of one those Berlin blood fetish films.

We'd been fucking for two hours. The three of us were covered in sweat and other body fluids. Nearby, six other officers were watching us, stroking their cocks to get them hard again. Several of my nursing staff was serving as fluffers. Towanda and I had already fucked the six at least twice. As soon as the Colonel dumped his load in my ass one would take his place.

"Piss, I want to see some piss," yelled Colonel Mowbray.

I put my mouth over Towanda's urethra and felt her spray into my mouth. She was doing the same with my pee hole. I greedily swallowed all she gave me. The smell of warm urine filled the humid air.

Anyone watching would not have realized that Towanda and I were involved in a serious medical experiment. They would have assumed that two depraved and horny nurses had decided to let eight well-hung studs fuck their brains out for several hours. The punishment S&M head harnesses were thrown in to make it interesting. But this was a serious test of the results of months of field research and laboratory experimentation. Both we girls had been experiencing a continual orgasmic high that was powering out sex drive like the Energizer Bunny. I'd had multiple prolonged orgasms many times before but this was taking hitting the big 'O' to an entirely new level. We had made what might turn out to be the greatest discovery in female sexual history.

Perhaps I should step back and start from the beginning.

Six months ago, I was promoted to major and transferred to the medical facility at a total shithole named Camp Gardez. It's the coalition's major Afghan base facility located near the city of Gardez in eastern Afghanistan near the Pakistan border. The camp is a large sprawling place that contains a decent hospital and a prison for enemies of the coalition. Climate wise it was a hellhole. The nightly entertainment was mortar attacks that kept everyone's nerves on edge. The only good thing about the attacks was that it gave me an excuse to slip into a darkened bomb shelter each evening and fuck whoever was around until the sun came up. My nurses were a randy bunch and after we'd taken care of the men we amused ourselves eating pussy and playing with dildos. If a girl likes her sex frequent and varied, the US Army is the way to go.

After my promotion I was put in command of the nurses at the hospital. That required a great deal of administrative work but it gave me a certain amount of freedom. One of my tasks was to periodically visit the nearby prison to ascertain the general health of the prisoners. Why? I don't know. Outside of the Red Cross no one gave a shit whether any of them lived or died. And for that matter, many of the prisoners didn't survive interrogation for various and sundry reasons I can't go into.

I'd only been there a month when I happened upon something that lead to the big discovery.

Lt. David Carey and I were taking a stroll through the cellblock for women's prisoners when we came upon a group of Marines raping a young Afghani girl. Earlier, she'd walked up to Marine checkpoint with enough explosives strapped to her body to flatten a city block. But the detonator proved faulty and our young miss was left shouting, "Allah, Allah, Akbar" while she frantically pressed the red button. The Marines surrounded her and removed the explosives. They'd brought her to the prison for a little fun and a lot of retribution.

When I arrived, they'd stripped her naked, used barbwire to tie her arms to the metal frame of a prison bunk and proceeded to let her service the entire platoon. She'd didn't look to be more than sixteen, maybe younger.

Typical of the Marines with Afghan prisoners, they'd worked her over pretty well: black eyes swollen shut, flattened nose, split lips, and a nice gap where her front teeth were supposed to be. Her boobs were mostly purple from bruising and a couple of her fingers and toes were pointing in odd directions. It wasn't any big deal as far as I was concerned. She was getting what she deserved. But I love that kind of scene so I edged through the crowd to get a closer look.

"Wow, what did you do to her tits?" I asked noting that they looked like two crushed grapes.

"Squeezed them in a vise down at the motor pool. You should have heard her squeal," said one of the Sergeants.

"Would you believe it, Major, the bitch loves it," said the Marine Captain who was standing by the bunk supervising. He'd noticed my arrival. A skinny young private was pounding his cock in her cunt. I had to resist the urge to slip my hand in the crack of his ass and join the fun. I had to remind myself I was an officer on official business.

"You just think she's loving it, Captain it just looks that way," I replied. She looked half dead to me. And rape was a death sentence for an Afghani girl. In Afghanistan, a family will kill a female member for merely talking to a male that is not a close relative. It's a question of honor. If somehow the girl lived and returned to her people they would probably stone her to death. Her gang rape by the Americans was a death sentence as far as her people were concerned.

"No, I tell you she just keeping hitting the big O. Somebody's screwed with her pussy too. It ain't normal," said the Captain in a Tennessee accent. I saw she'd wrapped her arms and legs around the private and was pumping like a street whore anxious to pop her customer and return to her corner for another John. That was odd. She should have been laying there accepting her fate, planning to commit suicide later if the Marines didn't do her the favor of fucking her to death.

About that time, the private plowing the girl's furrow reared up and squirted his semen in her well-fucked hole. Another Marine quickly replaced him. I didn't get a chance to examine her pussy for any signs of abnormality.

"When this one finishes I want to take a look at her," I said.

The Captain didn't look too happy at that but I was a Major and that is an advantage in dealing with Captains.

"All right but we're in a hurry. As soon as two more of my guys fuck her, Corporal Bettis is going to finish her," said the Captain pointing to a stocky female enlisted soldier standing nearby. I'd heard of Corporal Bettis but never met her. She was standing there stark naked except for a leather dildo harness. The dildo that was mounted on her crotch was covered in sharp metal spines. The Corporal's specialty was to give male and female prisoners their last fuck so to speak. That metal dildo would deliver the coup de gras shredding her cunt walls causing her to bleed to death.

I almost left at that point but there was something about how the girl was handling her gang rape that intrigued me. She should have been either been struggling or just laying there praying the Americans would eventually kill her. After all she was a suicide bomber prepared to blow herself to bits. She'd already written off her own life.

When the marine blew his load and hopped off, I intervened. "Give me a minute," I said to the Captain.

"All right but make it quick, Sir," said the Captain.

"She'd been mutilated," I said looking at her clit that was missing the hood. It stuck out like somebody's little finger. The area surrounding the clit looked a trifle odd too.

"Some of the hill tribes do that to their women," said the Captain. "They say it makes them want to fuck all the time."

I'd known women who had the tissue covering the clitoris partially removed. They said it enhanced their enjoyment of sex. I could also see that the girl's labia had been cut away. It had been crudely done and she was badly scarred.

"Pussy's got a life of its own," said the Marine who had just climbed off. "It just kept squeezing my pecker, never felt anything like it."

I was intrigued. The girl who looked to be in her teens was looking wildly about through the one eye she could partially open. She kicked her legs wider and humped her pussy like she was anxious for another marine to mount her. I slipped a latex glove on my right hand as I sat on the edge of the bed. Then I eased my fingers into her gooey cunt.

"Getting some dyke action from the Major," said one of the watching Marines.

"Cut the shit, Bagley," barked the Captain.

I pushed two fingers into her hole. I immediately felt her vagina squeeze my fingers with a firm pulsing action. Damn I thought this is weird. This girl has had the crap beaten out of her. She looks like she's in serious physical distress but her cunt is acting like she was head cheerleader at a Texas Panhandle high school who had volunteered to be gangbanged if the team won the state title. The wining players had all lined up for a piece of pussy she was damn proud and anxious to provide.

I took her blood pressure and pulse. They were both blow normal. I got out my flashlight and a tongue depressor for a better look in her hole. I could see that the walls of her vagina were rhythmically contracting. I decided I had to find out more.

"Gang bang's over, Captain," I said. "I'm transferring her to the hospital."

"Major, you don't have the authority to do that. That cunt could have blown up half my platoon. We're going to finish her," said the Captain motioning for Corporal Bettis to step forward

"Captain, let's talk," I said wrapping my arm around the Captain and pulling him away from the crowd. I pressed my tits against his chest to communicate that I had something to say that was worth listening. "Tell the Corporal to stand down for now."

"Corporal Bettis, hold up," said the Captain to the obviously disappointed corporal who had been looking forward to shredding the female's insides. The word around the camp was that Corporal Bettis was psycho.

"I have a medical interest in this case. I want the prisoner for further study. When I'm done, you can have her back and Corporal Bettis can fuck her to death."

"I don't know. My guys are pretty intent on finishing her off. A suicide bomber killed six members of third platoon last week. We were lucky her bomb didn't detonate. I could have a morale problem if she walks out of here alive."

"Tell you what. You let me have her and tomorrow night, I'll bring my nurses over here and we'll have a real party. And I'll take care of you personally," I whispered.

"Around the world?" said the Captain.

"As many times as you're butthole can stand it," I said.

Chapter 41 – Discovery Process

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material or if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file and story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

"That's right, Rozz, open my hole, work that baby wide open, it's hungry, feed it," groaned Bob, the Marine Captain, whose asshole I was slowly forcing open with my latex gloved hand.

"You're getting there, baby, relax, long slow deep breaths," I replied as I gave another shove gaining a quarter inch in my effort to get my hand inside his ass. I gave his butt a mild smack to help him ease the strain in his gluteus minimus and maximus. Having a working knowledge of human musculature helps when you're fist fucking an uptight Marine. We were in his quarters with the door locked. We'd started out with an intense suck and fuck session. I'd followed that with a trip around the world that started and ended with my lips and tongue working his sphincter. A long the way the Captain had lost his inhibitions and told me what he really wanted me to do. "Stick your fist up my ass, please," he'd whined after I began working his hole with my fingers. This big strong virile Marine wanted his butt fucked just like he was the feature attraction in San Francisco's Mine Shaft lounge and the Leather Knights had brought out the Crisco.

"Oh fuck, that feels good," said Bob with an air of satisfaction. He made a loud sigh indicating that he was having a good time.

Bob was in my opinion a little bit of an oddity. He probably considered himself a straight arrow heterosexual, a rough and ready leatherneck who'd punch the lights out of anyone who even suggested that a love of being butt fucked smacked of homosexuality. But in my view, he was exhibiting bisexual behavior.

In Dr. Alfred Kinsey's landmark 1948 book, Sexual Behavior in the Human Male, the doctor came to the controversial conclusion that most men are to some degree bisexual. Dr. Kinsey had a method for ranking bisexuality from one to five. That's in contrast to popular thought that you are either hetero or homo. It's been a number of years since I studied Kinsey's findings but my little Marine captain was far too fond of having my hand in his tush to be considered strictly on the hetero side of the fence.

My opinion was reinforced when I looked into his box of toys that included a supersize dildo with a suction cup on one end. I pictured the muscular soldier squatting down over the dildo fucking himself while he jerked his cock. The question I couldn't answer was what images were in his head while he wanked his dick. Was it of one of his fellow officers slamming their pricks in his hungry hole? I had a feeling it was. But in the 'don't ask, don't tell' army it was none of my business.

I'm not saying Bob was gay. I had already swallowed several teaspoons of his semen and there was a second smaller load leaking out of my twat. I'm merely remarking that most men can get it on with another guy if the mood is right and they're horny enough.

When I slipped my four fingers out of his brown eye, his hole didn't close completely so I quickly grabbed the plastic bottle of Astro-Glide and squirted some on the lubricant directly inside. Successful fist insertion was in sight. I've fisted my share of assholes and pussies plus I've had other's hands in my cavities up to the forearm. I know how these things work.

Back my hand went and this time I included the thumb. Eureka, I slipped in to my wrist. Bob sounded a loud grunt of satisfaction. He obviously needed to feels something really big in his rear. His anal ring was stretched tight as a rubber band around the base of my hand. I grabbed his nut sack with my other hand and pulled down hard as I pushed forward into his rectum. A good fisting depends on maintaining tension between the scrotum and the asshole. They expect it to hurt. You want them to feel it.

"I'm in all the way. My whole hand is up your ass," I said matter of factly.

"Oh that's good, Rozz," groaned Bob squeezing my fist with his core muscles.

"Are you my butt boy?" I said making a fist and rotating it slightly. I was curious whether he would accept some role-play as a submissive.

"Yeah, I'm your butt boy," whined Bob in a voice that hinted submission.

"And you want me to pack your shit?" I said yanking his balls down hard and giving them a twist. I pushed my hand in another couple of inches, made a fist and rotated it. I was past his rectum in lower intestine land. I could feel his shit squishing around my gloved fingers. If I had a Sigmoidoscope in my hand I could have been checking for Crone's Disease and colon cancer.

"Pack it, Rozz, pack it."

"Want a squirt in your beer, butt boy? Want to show how much you like to drink Rozz's pee?" I asked reaching with my free hand for the nearby plastic cup of beer. I'd decided Bob was a pig and would welcome some very nasty play.

"Yeah, Rozz, make your little butt boy drink beer piss."

The next step required skill and balance. I positioned the cup under me as I came into a squat all the while maintaining a slow rhythmic push and pull motion inside Bob's bowel. He was really getting off on it. I was too since I was pleasing my partner which is the hallmark of an accomplished slut.

"Hear that, Bob, that's Rozz's nasty girl piss. You tell Momma Rozz how much you want to drink it," I said as I sprayed into the cup. The sound of me pissing filled the small room. I got about eighty percent in the cup. The rest soaked my feet. Good enough, I'm a firm believer in the eighty-twenty rule.

"Please, Mother, let me drink your piss. I'll be a good boy," said Bob in his little boy voice. This was getting deep. I'd obviously touched a role-playing nerve. Oedipus had made his appearance. Bob was a motherfucker wantabe. There was probably a time when he was struggling through puberty when he fantasized that his Mother was using him for a toilet. Who knows? Maybe Mom made him bend his head back over the toilet and take her liquid wastes. Mothers have been known to do some strange things.

"And you'll stop doing those nasty things with your sister's panties?" Bob had told me he had two sisters in the Marines and one who was a civilian. It was highly likely that at some point, he'd grabbed a pair of his sister's soiled panty out of the hamper and jerked off with them. What guy with sisters hasn't?

"Yes, Mommie, never again, just let Bobbie drink your peepee."

Wow, I might wind up diapering the guy and letting him nurse a tit.

"All right, Bobbie, drink up for Mommie," I said handing him the cup.

I fisted him and stretched his sack hard while he sipped his beer and piss cocktail.

"How is it, Bobbie? Do you like it?" I asked when he finished.

"It was wonderful, Mommie," said Bob sacking his lips.

"Now, you hold the cup while Mommie points your little dickie. She wants to drink some of Bobbie's peepee," I said. "Can Mommie have some of your peepee?"

"Yes, Mommie, that would be fabulous," said Bob as he began to piss in the cup. At the start he missed and a flood of warm urine spread beneath us lapping at our knees.

"Here, I'll take a sip then you can take one," I said taking the cup from his hand. It was a cocktail of Sam Adams on tap, Bob's piss, and mine. I took a long swallow, not bad; but then again I am a piss slut. "It's delicious. Now you take a sip while Mommie pushes her hand inside your tushie." I was forearm deep squishing his turds in my hand.

We passed the beer cup back and forth until it was empty. I decided it was time to make my faux son blow so his load so I started fisting his hole while I jerked his cock. I pulled back all the way to the O-ring then shoved forward to my elbow.

It wasn't long before he announced he was going to shoot.

"I'm going to blow, Mommie," said Bob trying to talk like a fourteen year old.

"Well, baby boy, you tell Mommie when you're ready to shoot and she's going to take your peepee in her mouth and swallow every drop of your sweet jism."

A few more strokes and he squalled he was ready to cum. I bent his cock back between his legs and took it in my mouth at just the right moment. It was the kind of sweet thick heavy load you get after you've churned their butter. He emptied his tank. I savored the flavor on the back of my tongue then gratefully swallowed. Is there anything better than piss and cum with a beer back?

I'd gotten every swimmer the Captain had to give. He collapsed forward in his bunk and went sound asleep. I cleaned up and decided to rejoin the party. I had thirty-eight horny nurses working the barracks.

This was my way of compensating the Marines for allowing me to walk away with Bashira Al-Budaya, a member of a small Uzbek klan that lived somewhere in the remote Hindu Kush. We'd discovered that from some documents she had with her.

Bashira was safely confined in a private room in the hospital and heavily sedated. We'd set her broken fingers and toes, packed her nose with cotton, sewed up several cuts and in general determined she should recover.

Once I got her back to the hospital I examined her sex more thoroughly. The hood of her clit was totally missing. Both of her labial folds were trimmed down almost to the surface. Oddly, she squirmed a little when I touched her sex. That was in spite of some serious painkillers.

Female genital mutilation is not uncommon in that part of the world. Almost all the time, it is to insure that the woman does not enjoy sex. In many Muslin countries, women are considered prone to wantonness unless they have a clitectomy. (I suppose I am a case in point.)

These people in my view are seriously fucked up. I've seen Afghani girls with just a scar where their clit was supposed to be. They use dull crude knives that aren't sterilized and sometimes the girl bleeds to death or dies of infection. If I had my way, I'd gather up all old Afghan women that practice female genital mutilation and bury them alive in a pit filled with dog shit.

Mutilating a woman's sex to increase her desire or pleasure is much more rare; but there are instances where it is done. The Manchu emperors used to alter their concubines on the theory that the more the girl enjoyed sex the more eager she was to engage in it. There were several members of the Hellfire Club that had their clit hood cut away. They swore that a dangling exposed love button increased their sexual pleasure. Still I doubt if any of them had been stomped by a platoon of Marines then gang raped they would have reacted like Bashira. She'd seemed on autopilot.

Late afternoon before the party I went by to see her again. I noted her color was better and took her pulse and blood pressure. Everything was in the normal range. She fluttered her eyes awake for a moment. I decided to make contact.

"Bashira, I am Major Rozz Donaldson. You are in the US Army hospital at Camp Gardez. We are going to take care of you and get you well," I said holding her small thin hand. She looked up at me for a moment then closed her eyes and went back to la-la land. She was a pretty girl except for a hook in her nose. If she'd been an American, her parents would probably have taken her to a plastic surgeon for a retrousse beak.

After that I met the nurses who had agreed to attend the party in the motor pool. The cases of Jack Daniels and the kegs of beer were already loaded. Practically, every nurse who was off duty had agreed to attend. There isn't much to do at Camp Gardez.

I'd announced at my all-hands staff meeting that the Marines had been having a difficult time with insurgents and had taken some causalities. I'd decided that an inter service party was in order to raise morale. The Marines were going to provide the place, a DJ so we could dance and the food.

"We're bringing ourselves and the booze plus some entertainment I've planned," I said.

"Major, Will they be expecting us to have sex with them?" asked Lt. Mavis who was always kidding around. Everyone knew to expect lots of sex. Otherwise why go?

"Yes," I replied. "So if you are riding the cotton pony you better pass unless you bring your knee pads and stick to BJs."

"Major, are they providing the condoms or should we bring our own?" asked another nurse getting into the fun.

"If you use condoms and I know there are those that do, then you better bring your own just to be sure," I said.

"Major, the BX doesn't carry my brand. I like the ribbed pre-lubes from Life Styles," said Lt. Mavis.

"Are those the ones that come in colors?" I asked.

"Yes, my favorite is cobalt blue," said Lt. Mavis.

"I'll speak to the officer in charge of the store but tonight I suggest you bareback it," I said. For the kind of wall-to-wall sex the party was going to degenerate into I didn't see anyone taking the time to slip on a condom.

My nurses worked hard to look as good as possible in Army fatigues. There had been a serious run on nail polish and hair mousse at the tiny store that served the camp. I didn't doubt that underneath those drab desert stripes was some seriously sexy underwear.

When we arrived at the barracks at 1830, I was mildly surprised to find not the forty-four man Third Platoon I had expected but the entire two hundred plus complement of Bravo Company. The company commander had pulled rank and invited the rest of his command. I sent my driver back for more beer and liquor.

"I hope everyone is prepared to handle a lot of cock because I have a feeling we're not leaving until they're pussy whipped," I whispered to Lt. Mavis as we looked over the crowd. There were thirty-eight of us plus myself.

"Not a problem, Major. I'm planning a three hole night," said Lt. Mavis sizing up the Marines. The Lieutenant was a first class soldier. She could stay on her feet twelve hours in an OR until every one of the wounded was stitched up. Afterwards, she would visit the recovering men and suck and fuck the ambulatory.

After I greeted the Company commander and the platoon leaders and introduced them to my officers we opened the bar. The Marine serving as DJ started the music. And the nurses looked at the Marines and the Marines looked back. Neither side made a move to converse. Not surprising, we were soldiers in an active combat zone and loosening up for a party wasn't easy.

I'd thought we might need an icebreaker. Lt. Mavis and I ducked into a side room. We quickly kicked off our loosely tied boots and removed our fatigue shirt and trousers. I slipped on a pair of black five-inch fuck me pumps. We fluffed out our hair with brushes. Underneath her uniform the Lt. was wearing all white, a silk lace bustier with a thong panty and white stay up hose. I was the same but in black. We slapped on a thick coat of bright red lipstick then joined the party. We took maybe two minutes to change. The party was still dead when we stepped onto the dance floor and started gyrating. We'd queued the DJ so he started our music as soon as we stepped on the dance floor.

Why did I do this? Because I am an officer and a leader. At times you lead by example. Lt. Mavis and I danced together for a while. The Lieutenant did look hot. The bustier had her tits lifted almost to her chin and a quarter inch of pink areola was showing.

We tool turns doing the LA Grind. I bent over and grabbed my ankles while the Lieutenant held my hips and rubbed her cunt against my bottom. This is what leadership is all about I told myself. I could feel the Lieutenant's pussy through the thin silk material that barely covered her crotch as she stroked herself over my bare bottom.

When it came time to grind her, I pulled the narrow strip of material out of the crack of her ass and stuck my fingers in her snatch as I worked my clit against her bottom. As much as the Lieutenant had me turned on and I would like to have drug her off the dance floor for some concentrated rug munching I had larger responsibilities. I separated from the Lieutenant and coaxed one of the black enlisted men out of the crowd to dance. I made a lucky choice because he was a good dancer. The onlookers were getting into a party frame of mind. Several other nurses shed their uniform blouses and started to dance. Inside of five minutes the dance floor was packed. The Marines took off their shirts and my girls stripped down to their underwear. We were off to the races.

It wasn't long before nurses and Marines began to slip off in little groups. My dance partner was joined by two of his Afro-American buddies. I danced in the center of them. They took turns grinding me front and back. They had my cunt dripping. I needed cock in the worst way. That made me think of Bashira lying there desperate for dick in spite of her wounds. There was something important to be learned from my little Uzbek siren.

I grabbed one of my dance partners wrapped a leg around him and whispered, "Let's go somewhere and fuck. I'll do the three of you at the same time."

Earl, that turned out to be his name, took my hand, and signaled his homies to follow. Two minutes later I was taking a toke off a very serious joint as I straddled a black Marine that was guiding his cock into my well-oiled cunt. For an old woman approaching thirty what could be better than having the long black cocks of three in shape trigger pullers who hadn't reached twenty. I spent a busy hour getting drilled in all orifices. I stepped through single, double and triple penetration groaning and grunting as they slammed their hard pricks in my holes. It was rough sex as they took what they wanted from me.

After I'd taken two shots from each I decided it was time to move on. I wiped the spunk out of my cunt, gave each of them a kiss and returned to the dance. I ran into Bob, the Company Commander and he whisked me away to his quarters where I blew him, fucked him and fisted him. Seeing that I had all he could give me, I left him snoring and went to look for more cock.

When I got back to the dance, things had slowed down quite a bit so I instructed Lt. Mavis to get ready for our second show of the evening. The Lieutenant commandeered three of the Marines. They went out to our trucks and brought back a heavy canvas bag full of long metal poles. Under the Lieutenant's guidance they quickly assembled a rectangular frame that was fifteen feet across, ten feet deep and eight feet high. There were enough diagonal braces to make it rigid.

While that was happening I was busily changing into a special version of my Major's dress uniform. Lieutenants Cole and Bradley joined me in the changing room as they dressed in their dominatrix leathers that were designed to look like body armor. The three of us slipped wireless head sets on and made a sound check as a final step.

While technically this was not an S&M crowd it was a group of trained killers and what is more S&M than that. I'd decided a little exhibition of Sado-Masochism was just the ticket to crank the party back into high gear.

I heard the PA system announcing throughout the barracks that all Bravo company personnel and their guests were to report back to the main hall. I checked myself in the mirror. I looked very smart in my uniform. My two lieutenants certainly looked their part, knee high leather combat boots, waist cinching body armor/corset that exposed their tits, and several types of whips hanging from their waist.

"Here, final touch," said Betty Cole buckling a dog collar around my neck.

The spotlight hit us as we marched into the room. Both Cole and Bradley were holding a leash that lead to a spiked dog collar circling my neck. They walked me once completely around the room so the crowd could get a close look. Then they positioned me in the center of my pipe rectangle.

"Lick my boots," demanded Bradley as Cole pushed me to the floor. The crowd got quiet.

"Yes, Mistress," I said as I gave a very loving lick to the sole of Bradley's right boot.

"Now, the other one," yelled Bradley as she slammed the end of her riding crop across by skirt clad rear. I gave a little yelp then quickly bent down and licked her other sole from heel to toe.

I had to repeat my boot licking for Cole.

"How does it taste, bitch? I stepped in some dog shit right before I came inside," said Cole.

"Delicious, Mistress, Thank you for letting me lick your boots," I said. The Marines had a great sound system. Everything was coming through loud and clear.

"Now you can make love to my asshole with your mouth," said Bradley who had unsnapped the narrow band of Kevlar that bisected her butt cheeks. I was still on my knees when she bent over and reached back to spread her cheeks. I buried my face between her clefts and went to work with my tongue.

"That's right, Slave, stick your tongue in my shithole and lick it out," demanded the Lieutenant.

The wireless microphone was picking up the sounds of me lapping away at her brown eye. After I sucked Bradley's backdoor I did Cole's. Then they used the leashes to yank me to standing position.

They encircled my wrists with strapping connected to the frame. The straps used Velcro fastening so things went quickly. They pulled it tight until I was barely touching the floor. I looked like a starfish. Camera flashes were firing as the Marines captured my image. Up to that moment I was still wearing a version of a full dress uniform. My two mistresses gave it a tug on both sides and it came right off just as it was designed to. There was a collective gasp from the audience as I stood there instantly stark naked except for hose and shoes.

Lt. Mavis wheeled in a small V-shaped stand that had a large knobby dildo made from a small-bore howitzer shell mounted on the top. The three lifted me up then lowered me so the dildo slipped inside my cunt. The crowd shouted its approval as I buried that long thick piece of ordinance in my cunt.

"It's too big. It hurts," I cried as the latex clad column slithered into my hole. I squirmed around moaning and begging them to take it out. Betty bitch slapped my hard for complaining.

Next they bent my legs back to where my heels touched the back of the thighs then circled my thigh and foreleg with strapping they pulled painfully tight. In an instant all my weight was resting on my cunt and I started to beg them to take me down. I was ridding the donkey Afghan style.

When I looked around I could see Marines everywhere stroking their cocks as they watched. Practically every nurse was worrying their clit with a couple of fingers. So far so good I told myself. Bradley came up with a vicious looking alligator clamp that used a defused 57MM Soviet mortar shell as a weight. She pulled the end of my breast out then let the clamp snap as she dropped the tethered mortar shell. I screamed when the shell ran out of tether and I experienced the sensation that my tit was being ripped off. Cole did my other breast. Marines were stepping near with their cameras to get close-ups. The sharp teeth of the clamps had bitten into my flesh and there were tiny streams of blood streaking my abdomen. I'd known we'd need to show blood for this crowd.

After they clamped my tits, they did my labia. I was whining and begging them to let me go. My cunt was resting on the uneven apex of the wedge. The dildo was deep inside my birth canal and my tits and pussy lips were subjected to fiery pain.

Once I was in absolute hell, Bradley and Cole got out their whips and went to work on me. They kept me screaming for a good ten minutes. I was covered in angry looking red stripes when they were done. The crowd discovered sexual intercourse positions that allowed both partners to keep watching me suffer while they fucked. Nurses were sucking cock and fucking while they kept one eye on the action.

It was one hell of a beating and my cries of pain were very real. Bradley worked on my armpits until they went numb.

When they finished my scourging they took me off the dildo/wedge but left me hanging in mid air. I heard a crowd noise and when I turned my head I saw Corporal Bettis approaching me wearing only a dildo harness. There were two very evil looking faux cocks jutting out from her crotch. She came up behind me and put her arms around my waist.

The Corporal moved quickly to impale me on both of those bad boys. I let out an agonizing cry when she rammed the spiny cocks in my holes. The Corporal's fingers worked the nipple and labia clamps until she had me begging her to stop.

Five painful minutes of vicious double dildo fucking and she was done. They released the strapping and dropped me to the floor. When they removed the clamps I rolled around in agony as my crushed capillaries refilled with blood.

I lay there on my back as Bradley straddled me. She unsnapped the crotch of her body suit, unlimbered her urethra and pissed on me from head to toe. They made me keep my mouth open. Next, Cole and Corporal Bettis subjected me to their version of a piss bath. The spotlight went out and I scurried out of the room. There was thunderous applause that required I and the other participants return for a bow.

I had rekindled the energy of the party and seriously wild group sex commenced. I quickly cleaned up and rejoined the party. I'd applied ointment and antiseptic then joined a line of nurses who were on all fours being butt fucked by whoever wanted to enter their backdoor. I spent the rest of the party on my elbows and knees taking an uncounted number of cocks in my ass.

At 0300 I gathered my crew up and we returned to the hospital's living quarters. None of us had any idea how many Marines we screwed.

Chapter 42 – Sapphic Blood Rite

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material or if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file and story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

"Fuck you bitch," I screamed then groaned loudly as I forced the double-ended dildo out of my cunt into Bashira's. The muscles in my pussy strained to put as much force behind it as possible. I was trying to blast that motherfucking sex toy all the way through her cervix and out her asshole. We were seated facing each other on the OR table our legs wrapped around each other's waist. Our pussies were married together, clit to clit and hole to hole. You couldn't get a sheet of paper between us.

We were using only our cunt muscles to push that mean motherfucker of a double dildo back and forth. It was my turn to push. I felt the latex probe start to move and pick up speed as I contract my vagina with all my might. I sucked my belly button to my backbone then forced it downward as my gluteus muscles acting in concert squeezed my cunt walls.

No one out fucks Rozz Donaldson I told myself especially a fifteen-year-old Uzbek girl who could barely read and write. Everything but the tip of the dildo left my vagina with a whoosh then I heard a thunk sound as it slammed into Bashira's cervix. You could see the pain in her eyes as the blunt end hammered into her organs. My pussy felt the vibration as it hit so hard it bounced inside her birth canal.

I sucked on the plastic tube surgically taped to the side of my mouth and drew a mouthful of Bashira's piss directly out of her bladder. Bashira and I were engaged in one of the oldest and most primitive rites on the planet. Ancient Greek lesbians on the island of Lesbos had begun the ritual three thousand years ago. Today, as far as I know it is only practiced in three places: (1) a club in Berlin called The Vagina, (2) a leather dyke bar in Passaic, New Jersey called The Wet Hole, and (3) in a remote valley of the Hindu Kush where Bashira's small forgotten tribe of Uzbek's lived.

Sappho, the poetess of muff diving described the ritual in her writings. She even admitted to having practiced it several times. It is not for the faint of heart.

I'd selected the operating theatre that had the greatest seating capacity. A second floor held almost a hundred of the hospital's staff come to watch one of the most bizarre and punishing rituals on this earth. Afterwards, several of my staff privately told me that it was the most awesome thing they had ever witnessed. One girl said it had changed her entire perspective on what it meant to be female. "I felt like my pussy was born again after I watched you and Bashira," was how she phrased it.

Bashira and I began facing each other seated on the operating table. The rite began with catheterization. I was lucky that Lt. Mavis was knowledgeable about the ritual and had the surgical skills to set it up. Lt. Mavis inserted a catheter in our urethra then ran the tube up each other's bodies using surgical tape to fix the end between our lips. One good suck and I emptied Bashira's piss bladder. We both drank four litters of water before we started and I would hazard a guess that during the rite I'd siphoned the equivalent in piss from Bashira's bladder. Bashira kept my tank of mellow yellow empty.

The next step was to insert a very long and thick dildo in our rectum. Ten inches long with a five-inch diameter, it felt like someone shoved a greased log up my ass. Once the Lieutenant had it fully inserted she inflated the holding collar located just inside my anal ring. There was no way that motherfucker was coming out unless someone pushed the button releasing the air.

The double dildo went in next, half in my cunt and half in Bashira's. The fact that only one of the dildo's sides was covered in sharp spines that would rake the walls of your vagina was the only concession to humane fucking. According to legend, the Greek dykes on Lesbos used a dildo whose head was embedded with sharp stones. The loser usually bled to death through her pussy.

Dildo in place, Lt. Mavis used her medical skills to suture our clits together.

"Take a deep breath, Major, this is going to hurt," advised the Lieutenant right before she pushed the curved tip of the suture needle through the base of my clitoris. I felt the needle penetrate the mass of nerve ganglia that gave me orgasms. God that was painful. The Lieutenant put two more stitches in the base and several in the length as she carefully stitched our clits together. The pain was mind numbing. My hat was off to the queers of Lesbos. They did this sort of shit as part of their religion.

When Mavis was done, our clits were firmly sewn together. Those sensitive little fingers of flesh were intertwined with a half dozen stitches holding them together. If either of us decided to run, we would castrate ourselves.

The final preparation involved our breasts. Lt. Mavis wrapped monofilament-fishing line around the base of our buds that she captured in a surgical clamp and extended to within a millimeter of ripping off. She captured the base of both buds together in a single loop, tightened it until they were about to fall off then circled our nipples several times tying them tightly together. Once we were tied bud to bud, she'd hauled out the battery clamps from a Humvee jump-start cable and let them snap shut. It was pure hell when those jagged metal teeth cut into the flesh of my areola. Bashira and I had both screamed our pain to the handful of amused spectators come to see the ultimate in dyke style fucking.

This was lesbian fucking as it's most elemental, basic and primal. You had to be beyond hard-core to do what Bashira and I were doing. There were maybe one in ten million females on the planet up for this kind of action. You had to have cunt muscles that could crack a walnut. It was a pussy tug of war over a spiny double dildo. Both our cunts were oozing blood onto the once white sheets.

Ever since I was a little girl and let the boy next door remove my cotton panty and stick his thing in my snatch, I knew that I had a talented twat. One of my more worldly boyfriends referred to it as a 'nutcracker'. The muscles lining my vagina are exceptionally strong. That's the genetic nature factor but I've added a lot of nurture over the years.

I've practiced Pilates and Tantric Yoga to build those muscles. Of course, my favorite way to exercise my cunt wall is to wrap my legs around a man's waist and milk his cock until it dumps juice in my pulsing well.

Bashira yelled something in Uzbek as she forced the dildo back my way. I felt the sharp spines ripping the walls of my vagina as it traveled inward. There was a thud sound as it landed hard against the bottom of my cervix. God was it painful. I felt it bounce off the flexible anal dildo that Lt. Mavis had inserted in my GI tract. For what must have been the fiftieth time I climaxed.

Half of the hospital staff was seated in the amphitheatre watching. Cocks and clits were exposed and being worked. Watching the ritual can get deep into a woman's head. In the first row of the operating theatre were five recently arrived lieutenants. They'd sat down not knowing what to expect. Fifteen minutes after we started, one of them found some razor blades we used to shave patients and passed them out to the others. As they masturbated and watched, they nicked their breasts and labia. They were stuffing dildos and fingers in bloody cunts. Their lips and faces were stained with each other's blood. There was gore everywhere.

One of the older nurses who I had always thought was a little odd had watched a while then gone to her quarters and returned with a giant dildo and a straight razor. The dildo had a suction cup on one end. She'd stuck it to the tile floor and was slowly raising and lowering her body. She's cut deep vertical stripes in her breasts. She kept chanting, "I bleed" over and over again. At some point, she used the straight razor to slice off thin stripes of her labia. She chopped the carrion into pieces and passed them into the crowd. My six newbies each ate a piece thinking it was part of the ritual. Most of my female audience got to sample pussy sushi.

Bashira and I must have been a sight. Our hair was matted down with sweat dripping off us. We were trading porn kisses taking turns spitting in each other's mouth. For a small person, she had a lot of spit. Both our faces were covered with near and not so near misses of high-grade snot and sputum. We'd sucked each other's nostrils empty and my sinus had never felt clearer. If you have the clit for it, capture your lover's nostrils in your mouth and suck hard. It's not for the uncommitted.

Our bleeding tits were clamped together and the slightest movement caused the jagged teeth to dig deeper into our flesh. If you looked close you could see fresh blood steadily pumping out along the saw teeth. And if you got real close, you could smell girl pee on our breath.

Like I said this was extreme hardcore girl fucking like the leather dykes do at that club in Passaic just across the river from NYC. It helped to be out of your mind on uppers to fuck like this.

Technically I was doing research. It had been six weeks since Bashira arrived at the hospital. She was fully recovered. Even the bones in the fingers and toes the Marines broke had knitted back together. I'd had a reconstructive surgeon not only repair the shattered bones in her nose; he'd chiseled off that ugly hump that made her look like a parrot. She was a damn pretty girl now.

Once Bashira had recovered and the word spread about her capacity for non-stop sex her room became very popular. Every time I went to see her I had to shoo away staffers eating her snatch or pounding her pussy. Of course, what got the male and female staff members interested in Bashira was her cunt. That thing had a life of its own.

"I just love to suck her clit and finger fuck her," said Captain Helen Reynolds one of my subordinates. "Her pussy is so strong. It's like yours, Major."

And the males were in love with how their cocks felt inside her pussy and ass. If things were slow in the rest of the hospital, there would be a line outside Bashira's room. She never turned anyone down no matter what time of the day. During the overnight shifts, she would screw thirty for forty of our personnel. The little slut was like a machine.

I'd spent my every free moment with Bashira gaining her confidence and getting her to trust me. I'd been anxious to determine whether what I had observed during Bashira's gang rape by Marines was for real or just some unexplained result brought on by stress.

Four weeks ago, when she was almost healed up, I'd leaned over and given her a kiss that lingered. She pushed her lips against mine.

I took it slow not wanting to frighten her. She didn't seem bothered by lesbian sex. In fact she was eager for it. That was a surprise. I kept telling myself her people were Muslims and the Quran forbade homosexuality. The Taliban took anyone they caught walking the wrong side of the street to that soccer stadium in Kabul for execution.

Gay males were publicly castrated then beheaded. A CIA operative who was in Kabul when they were in power described it to me. As a warning to others, the Taliban made a show of executing homosexuals. They tied the males to posts pulled their trousers down then went down the line slicing off one ball. When everyone had lost one nut they went back to the first guy and cut off the other ball. Sometimes they made the guy eat his own nuts or the nuts of the queer beside him. Fun over, they'd forced the poor bastard to kneel down while someone with a dull sword hacked their head off. It usually took several blows for the neck to be severed.

Given that the lesbians were still women and the Taliban were males, they had even more fun with gay girls. There was a special room under the stadium where the lesbians were nailed to wooden frames then gang raped. Large flat head iron spikes were driven through their hands and feet.

The Taliban higher ups got first crack at fresh meat. Sometimes the rapes would go on for a week. On the morning of the execution, they chopped off their tits, clit and labium then took them out before the crowd and stoned them to death. No one misses the Taliban that much.

The CIA guy somehow acquired video and still pictures of the executions. He sold me a copy of everything he had. I sent them to General Donaldson for his birthday. The General loved them. He sent me a nice note thanking me.

I quickly learned that while Bashira was on most accounts a devout Muslim, she was from a long forgotten sect that lived in a remote section of the Hindu Kush who had absolutely no restrictions about sex in any form. I further learned that Bashira was not an anomaly among her people.

"So you have been sexually active since you were twelve?" I asked while we were having lunch in the cafeteria.

"Yes, all the women of my tribe are. Once we eat of the sacred root and are cut in our sex, we are transformed from a child to a woman who needs to experience sexual activity all the time."

"So why did you run away and become a suicide bomber?"

"I did not run away I was kidnapped by the Taliban six months ago," said Bashira.

"And what have you been doing for the last six months?"

"They kept me in a cave where the men came day and night to have sex with me," said Bashira. "Finally they decided to make me into a suicide bomber but I disconnected a wire when they were not looking."

"So that's why you didn't blow up. Are all the women in your tribe like you when it comes to enjoying sex?"

"Yes, my grandmother, mother, and all my sisters and female cousins love to pleasure the men and women of the tribe," confided Bashira.

"You have seen your mother have sex?" I asked as I spooned down some Jell-O.

"Many times, my mother and I lain together with the other women and had sex with one another," said Bashira.

"You've fucked your mother?" I asked incredulously. Even I, the Rozz, had never eaten my Mom's pussy.

"And my grandmothers and all my aunts," said Bashira happily as if incest was universally acceptable.

"How about your grandfather, father, brothers, cousins and other male relatives?" I asked.

"Yes, I have slept with every male member of the tribe who is twelve or older," said Bashira.

"And when did you first have sexual intercourse?"

"When I reached twelve, I ate of the sacred root and became a woman. That was when the old women of the tribe changed my sex," said Bashira.

"And that was all there was to it?" I asked.

"No, I had to perform the sacred ritual with one of the women of the tribe."

"Sacred ritual, what's that?"

"It was given to my people by a troop of women warriors that came with the great Alexander. They were trapped by the snow and forced to spend the winter. That was when we learned of the sacred root. These things have been carefully handed down over the ages," said Bashira looking very serious.

"Great Alexander you mean Alexander the Great?"

"Yes, that one."

"And what is this rite called?" I asked desperately trying to hide my excitement.

"The Blood Rite of Sappho," whispered Bashira conspiratorially

"I would like to return you to your people and spend some time with them. I need to learn about the sacred root."

"That's impossible unless you have performed the rite. Only women who have performed the blood rite can sleep in our tents."

"Okay, we can perform the rite together," I said. I had an inkling that I knew what she was talking about. When I got back to my office, I kicked off a host of emails requesting any information available on the ritual known as the Blood Rite of Sappho.

While waiting for responses I went to see the tripod. Colonel Mowbray had been away on leave and had not sampled Bashira. I took him to her room and sucked his ass and mouthed his balls while he pounded away inside the best piece of ass available in Afghanistan. Bashira responded to his eleven-inch cock with serious contractions of her vaginal walls.

For an in shape muscular male, the Colonel had a surprisingly loose asshole that relaxed and opened up with minor encouragement. It must have been genetic or he was secretly allowing someone to fist him nightly. I was wearing a latex glove covered in Astro-Glide and my fist was packing his shit down. I'd given his prostate a finger wave as I pushed deep in his ass. I'd been there before.

All brief foreplay, the Colonel was ramming it home in Bashira's cunt. Bashira weighed one hundred and nine pounds. She'd gained six pounds since arriving in the hospital thanks to my careful nurturing. Still, Bashira was wrapped around the Colonel like an anaconda humping happily away.

"Fuck that pussy," I chanted as the Colonel withdrew ten of the eleven then buried it in a blur.

Colonel Mowbray was what I termed a 'power fucker'. Once he was hard and inside a snatch, he hammered away for a long time. After the Colonel had screwed you, your pussy needed some recovery time. If I saw a nurse taking short painful steps, I pretty much knew she'd hooked up with The Tripod. We even had a name for the walk. We called it the, 'Mowbray Shuffle.'

The idea that a waif like Afghan girl was fucking back like a tyro was somewhat disconcerting to the Colonel. The last nurse I'd seen him fuck was a sweet young thing named Heather from Macon, Georgia. Heather had sobbed, moaned and screamed that the Colonel was killing her. But when he offered to stop, she looked at him like he was crazy.

"Please, just keep fucking me. I can deal with the pain," said Heather between sobs. After, the Colonel had filled her cunt with his swimmers and made her clean his blood stained cock with her mouth; it was two hours before Heather found the energy to move.

My point is that the Colonel was a man who expected to do some damage. The female was supposed to react like she was getting the shit fucked out of her. After he popped his load, she was supposed to look worn out and very used. Of course, he knew there were exceptions yours truly being one. He was getting more from Bashira than he expected.

The Colonel took longer than normal screwing Bashira. She started climaxing over and over again and wouldn't stop. Frankly, if my hand had not been playing patty cake inside his large intestine, I'm not sure he would have got off.

Finally, the big man squirted. Bashira went into five solid minutes of female orgasm that contracted her vagina around the great man's schlong.

"Shit, I thought she was going to crush my dick," the Colonel told me later.

I worked his prostate as he released his semen. This time it was Colonel Ellis Mowbray who did not move when he managed to roll to one side.

"Can we do it again?" asked Bashira.

"No, Bashira, the Colonel and I have something to discuss. Please return to your room. I'm sure there will be someone there waiting to fuck you." I said stripping of the latex glove.

"That was fucking unreal," said the Colonel after Bashira had left.

"Look at these," I said handing him a copy of her blood tests as I licked the head of his cock. After watching Bashira and he, I needed a fuck.

As he studied them, I provided oral. The Colonel's nuts matched his cock, large and hung low. I loved to take one of his testicles in my mouth and work on it. It had the feel of a large spongy egg.

"That is one big complicated molecule," said the Colonel studying the test result. "Shit Rozz, you even had the Pasteur Institute in Paris run these. Who'd you have to fuck to get them to do that?"

"No one has seen anything like it before. All the tests show it as an unknown," I said before forcing his cockhead to the back of my throat then wedging it into my throat.

"So you think this Afghan girl's long lost tribe has discovered a true female aphrodisiac. You know that's not possible. Big pharma has been pouring billions into research looking for a way to enhance the female orgasm. They still got nothing better than Frank Sinatra and champagne."

"According to Bashira, all the women in her tribe, partake of the sacred root when they are twelve. After that they spend a lifetime fucking."

"If what you say is true, it would be worth billions. I could see a global revenue of ten to fifteen billion a year," said the Colonel who was starting to get hard.

"I need someone to break down that molecule in Bashira's blood," I said fisting his cock as I worked the head with my mouth. "I plan to get my hands on examples of the sacred root and isolate the triggers."

"My younger sister, Towanda, could do it. She 's a molecular biologist assigned to research at John's Hopkins. She brilliant and bored out of her mind."

"She's in the army?"

"How else can a poor black brother and sister get through medical school? Towanda is as smart as they come when it comes to breaking down complex molecules atom by atom."

"Excellent, I'll bring her here and put her to work."

"You can do that?"

"Yes, I'll get her transfer in the works. And I want you to look into the surgery that was performed on Bashira's pussy. Somehow that interacts with the molecule to bring all this about," I said as I positioned the Colonel's rigid pole at the entrance to my vagina.

"Exactly what is in all this for Towanda and me? Man, you feel good," exclaimed the Colonel as I slid down his to arrive at the point that my ass rested on his pelvic bones. I squirmed around to get the last half-inch inside me.

"Ten percent," I said.

"Twenty," replied the Colonel.

"Fifteen."

"Seventeen and a half."

"Done, you two are going to be very rich some day soon." I said starting to slowly raise and lower myself.

"What are your plans?"

"Bring your sister here and put her to work. You study Bashira's surgery. You may even find a way to improve it. I'm headed to the Hind Kush to perform field research."

Chapter 43 – Pre Trip Party I

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material or if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file and story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

My God Lt. Mavis sure can scream I thought watching her and the five skinny Marines surrounding her try for a world record. If they were successful, it would not be something found in the Guinness Book of World Records unless there was a special adult section for most cocks in a woman's ass at the same time.

Nancy Mavis was upside down in what I would term an extreme bondage position. But before I go further I should fill you in on a few details.

We were at a Marine encampment in the far northern corner of Afghanistan in a finger of land called the Wakhan Corridor. The Corridor was created by the British over a century ago to provide a buffer between imperial Russia and India. The Corridor is less than ten miles wide in places. Countless British Redcoats died in and near the corridor. It's not too far from Jalalabad and the Khyber Pass where the British lost entire regiments to the Afghan mujahadeen. Not too many years back, the soldiers of the USSR suffered serious defeats in this area. Historically, it's a graveyard for foreign armies.

It's a backward savage place. Captured enemy soldiers are turned over to the women of the tribe for long slow torture leading to even slower castration. Eating your own balls is part of the finale. Bashira's tribe and the so-called 'sacred root' that rendered the women quasi nymphomaniacs were located in the nearby Hindu Kush, a mountainous area filled with peaks that ranged up 8,000 meters. This isn't exactly a tourist Mecca.

Bashira had agreed to introduce me to the tribe and help me collect examples of the sacred root. The discovery of a true female aphrodisiac would be worth billions to the drug companies. If I could get the root back to Towanda Mowbray where she could isolate and reproduce its molecular structure I might be the first army slut to win a Nobel Prize in medicine. I would also become a fabulously wealthy woman.

As luck would have it my brother in law Major Robert Donaldson was part of a Marine Reconnaissance unit stationed in the corridor. The Marines were hunkered down in a heavily fortified camp. With my father-in-law's, General Donaldson, help I managed to pull enough strings to get authorization to lead what I termed an intelligence-gathering mission into the Hindu Kush. Major Donaldson or Robbie as we called him and his sixteen-man unit would be our escort.

But Robbie being a total asshole and under the influence of his psychotic younger sister, Mary Ellen, had to extract a price for helping me out.

"Bring some nurses for a party," said Robbie when I notified him by cell phone that I was authorized to make the reconnaissance.

"Robbie, this is a serious matter. I have approval from the Pentagon for my mission," I said.

"Rozz, if you want me to cooperate and not pitch a bitch about this crazy plan of yours, then you better throw me a bone," said Robbie. "The nurses can go back the next day. The guys need a little diversion. Consider it part of your duty. Half of them have already tried to fuck an Afghan goat."

"How many nurses?" I asked giving in. My nursing staff was always up for a little adventure especially if it involved servicing a large number of horny soldiers. Out of my command of seventy, I could honestly say that more than half looked upon pulling a long train as a desirable way to spend an evening. These were the kind of women who could spread themselves out on a bunk and take on a platoon, only stopping to wipe the jism out of their cunt between fucks.

"Ten regular whores plus you and one other as pain sluts," said Robbie. "Some of the guys are into S&M. It has been a long dry spell between screams."

"I assume you are one of those who needs to practice a little Sadism," I said.

"Yes, and you are just the pain pig I want to practice with," said Robbie laughing.

"All right, a Lt. Nancy Mavis will be the other pain slut. And one more thing, there'll be an Afghan girl with us. Her name is Bashira. She loves to fuck. I want you to assign someone to keep her safe. She'll fuck anyone and everyone but she isn't to be harmed."

"I got a Sergeant who will take her around. How much does she love to be fucked? We got over 500 guys here."

"She could handle 500 if we had time. But by dawn, she needs to be have her knees together."

"All right, Rozz, looking forward to causing you agonizing pain. I've learned some new tricks since the last time I tortured your ass," said Robbie.

On that pleasant note we ended the conversation. A week later, helicopters dropped twenty of us into the camp. I'd asked for volunteers and been oversubscribed. The Marines had everything organized. Each pair of nurses was assigned to a different unit.

Sergeant Dickerson whisked Bashira off to what passed for an NCO club. I'd warned him that if any harm came to her other than getting her brains fucked out, I would turn him over to her tribe and help the women slice and dice his nuts for a soup. Fortunately, it went well. The next day she told me she had a great time.

Before we left, we gave Bashira a make over. I'd cut and styled her hair. The hospital dentist had cleaned and whitened her teeth. She learned from the other nurses to keep her armpits and pussy shaved. Her unibrow along with the rest of her facial hair had been subjected to electrolysis.

For the party, I'd dressed her in a short bouncy black skirt, lacy boy shorts and a matching tank top. I'd even taught her to walk in heels. At the NCO club, they thought they died and went to pussy heaven. Keep in mind she was fifteen and looked it. They made her dance on the bar and do a slow strip tease. Marine NCOs aren't shy when it comes to public sex. Bashira displaying a previously hidden talent for showmanship masturbated with a beer bottle while they shouted encouragement. When there wasn't a soft cock in the building they took her off the bar and put her on a mattress in the middle of the floor and screwed her. Given that Bashira is the second best fuck in CENTCOM after yours truly, they kept at her until they couldn't get it up any more.

"Awesome, totally fucking awesome," was how an exhausted Sergeant Dickerson characterized Bashira's pussy the next day. "Did you know that after you drop your load in her twat, she can contract her pussy muscles and squirt jism ten feet across the room. She's totally fucking awesome."

The other nurses experienced pretty much the same. Lt. Sally Winslow, a strawberry blonde from Davenport, Iowa told me of her experience. She and Captain Maria Lopez, a hot Latina from Miami wound up servicing a rifle platoon in a bunker on the camp's perimeter. Keep in mind; there are forty-eight Marines in a rifle platoon.

"On the ride over, Captain Tolson hauled out his cock and told me to get busy. Maria was in the front seat giving the driver a blowjob. I sucked the Captain hard then hiked up my skirt, pulled my tong to one side and slid his cock into my love tunnel. There was cum running down my leg when we got there."

"However when we walked into the command bunker, everyone was real shy. They'd used ammo crates to create two small private areas in the back of the bunker. Maria and I went behind the crates; got naked then stepped out and ate each other while they watched. The beer and vodka we brought loosened them up and after what seemed like forever we got this skinny Afro-American private to strip naked and join us. He had a great cock and we both went down on him. That broke the ice and before you could say, 'Afghanistan sucks," they'd drug the mattresses out from behind the crates and piled on. Things almost got out of control. The captain and the sergeants had to keep order to give everyone a chance to fuck us. Maria and I announced we were three hole sluts and for the rest of the evening, I had all orifices pretty much filled. Basically they banged us all night till it was time to go. On the way back to the extraction site, I sucked off the driver while Maria screwed the captain in the back seat. Mission accomplished."

When their helicopters took off to return to Camp Gardez the next morning, sore pussies, raw assholes, and tired jaws were the uniform of the day. I was certainly doing my part to maintain morale in the Afghanistan Expeditionary Force.

However, Lt. Mavis and I had very different experiences from the rest of my command. For us it was a long and painful but ultimately satisfying night.

Robbie had commandeered an isolated storage building on the outskirts of the camp for his S&M session with Lt. Mavis and me. It's only content was what they needed to subject us to a night of hellish pain.

When Lt. Mavis and I arrived, Robbie got right down to it.

"You two sluts strip," said Robbie. Besides Robbie there were six others. Captain Larry Cashman was his second in command and as I discovered later his alter ego. The other five seemed to function as a pack or is that unit

Nancy and I slipped out of our uniforms while they watched. To me, that's a mind trip in itself. Being ordered to take off your clothes while a group of sadistic horny males watch gets me wet and ready for what is to come.

Put your hands on your head and don't move," ordered Robbie when we were down to our birthday suits. Seven guys walked around us feeling us up, grabbing out tits and ass. They made degrading comments about us like we weren't there as they stripped off their fatigues.

"I bet the first guy she fucked was her daddy," that sort of thing.

Humiliation and degradation were part of the first course. Guys would walk up to you, call you a filthy whore, then tongue kiss you will they crushed your nipples in their hard muscular hands. The stuck their fingers in our pussies and asses then made us lick them clean, standard stuff but hot as hell under the circumstances.

Nancy Mavis loves the sadistic attention of horny men. When that attention includes pain, she becomes multi-orgasmic.

"Nothing fancy to start," said Robbie handing each of the men a short rubber truncheon. "I thought we'd go back to the basic for a start, a serious beating and a gang rape."

Robbie was sporting a serious hard on that had caught my eye so I wasn't paying attention when he stepped forward and slammed that truncheon right between my legs. It made sort of a whap sound as the hard weighted rubber flattened out my clit setting the nerve ganglia surrounding my vagina on fire.

I dropped to the floor screaming and clutching my cunt. They must have planned their first move because Nancy was also on the floor with both hands holding her moneymaker and screaming.

They drug us over to a pair of thin mattresses lying on the floor. Robbie had assumed the role of S&M instructor.

"Stretch her arms and legs out," ordered Robbie to his crew.

Robbie's bunch was good at following orders. In seconds, we were splayed out like starfish belly up.

"Kyle, Len, start at the souls of their feet and work up," said Robbie.

It was a hell of a beating that ended with painful repeated blows to my armpits. After they beat my anterior they flipped me over and beat my posterior. My legs hurt so bad I doubted I would ever walk again. They pounded my shins and calves until I was sure I was crippled.

"Tomorrow, you want the cunt to hurt everywhere but especially there," said Robbie once more slamming his truncheon down on my aching pussy.

My mind was clouded with pain but I felt someone lift my legs and slip their cock in my pussy.

"Larry, tap her clit while I fuck her," said Robbie who had climbed between my legs and penetrated me.

I screamed and begged as Robbie screwed me while Larry worked on my clit with little short taps with his truncheon.

"Now, slam her hole hard," said Robbie pulling out to expose my open cunt. Larry dutifully hit me right on my pussy. I screamed like a banshee. Robbie's cock went right back into my suffering cunt. He fucked me hard as I bucked and screamed. Robbie liked the effect so much he repeated it several times.

After Robbie dropped his load, they turned me over and Larry took me anally using the end of his truncheon to dildo fuck my pussy. The next part was a blur. Marines mounted me, slapped my face, hit me in the abdomen, and just had themselves a great time as they took what they wanted. They beat and fucked us until they ran out of jism. But they were still a long way from done.

"Let's work on their tits next," said Captain Cashman grabbing a handful of Nancy's hair to use as a handle to lift her to standing.

"Did you hear that Rozz? We're going to tenderize your knockers," said Robbie grabbing my hair to pull me upright.

Seconds later I was kneeling at something they must have been stolen from a Roman Catholic Church. Nancy was facing me in a position identical to mine. Seriously I recalled the exact same furnishing at St. Mary of the Assumption where I made my first Holy Communion. It was maybe three feet wide. There was a padded rail for my knees and a matching rail where you normally rested your elbows as you prayed. I wanted to pray not to be hurt anymore but that wasn't in the cards.

Instead of saying a little prayer and lighting a candle for Jesus to forgive my sins, there was a Marine behind me with his knee in the center of my back. He'd grabbed my wrists and was pulling my arms straight back. My boobs were resting on the elbow rail. Another Marine had a handful of my hair pulling my head slightly back so they had a clear swing at my tits.

"Marines, let me show you how it's done," said Robbie stepping beside me and raising his rubber truncheon.

There's nothing quite like the feeling of helplessness one gets under those circumstances. You know it is going to hurt like hell but there is nothing you can do about it. There was a slow motion aspect as I watched the truncheon arc down and land on the top of my left tit. The heavy club created a deep depression in the surface. The pain took a second to reach my brain. Of course, I screamed and struggled to get away but the soldier holding me had expected me to react violently and he held on.

"One of you get on each side. Alternate your blows. Give her a few seconds to recover between each strike so she can really feel the pain," yelled Robbie to the men working on Nancy. Nancy has very large breasts. Since she's only twenty-three, they are nice and high. She has very sensitive nipples that I've sucked more times than I can recall.

"Just passing on my expertise to the newbies, Rozz," said Robbie before delivering another whack to my left tit that had begun to turn blue.

Robbie and Larry worked well together as they converted by breasts to swollen black and blue melons that were twice their normal size. After a while they switched to Nancy and two other Marines took up their positions and got busy pounding my breasts to hamburger.

Robbie must have signaled the tit pounding was over because they stopped. I was out of my mind with pain. Someone looped a plastic cable around the base of my knockers and pulled it tight and then some. They kept pulling and tugging until I looked like my tits were balloons. The constriction at the base was the most extreme I had ever experienced and I was a girl who'd had her breasts cinched by experts at the NYC Hellfire Club.

While I was still kneeling, they pulled my hands together behind my back and cuffed them in what felt like standard MP handcuffs. Someone tied a line to the cuffs and I felt my wrists being pulled upward.

I really couldn't see what was happening to me but I could see Nancy and she was getting the identical treatment. Her line was attached to a pulley anchored in a ceiling rafter. God her tits looked like two overstuffed eggplant squashes. I'd told her this was going to be rough and that she ought to think twice before subjecting herself to the tender mercies of Robbie Donaldson and his merry band of sadists. But Nancy was a hardcore masochist and the rougher I made it sound the more she wanted to be there. I only hoped that later she wouldn't have second thoughts and blame me.

"It's strapaddo time," yelled Robbie with a sense of glee.

Two muscular Marines slowly raised me off the floor. The strapaddo is a very old and simple form of torture. Tie the victim's hand behind their back then raise them off the floor so their own body weight is working to dislocate their shoulder sockets. I had never been subjected to the strapaddo but I can now tell you it is hell on earth.

As I came off the floor and my weight transferred to my shoulders I started to beg Robbie to let me down.

"You don't really want down, do you Rozz," said Robbie putting his hand between my legs and inserting two fingers in my cunt.

"See men, she's a true pan slut. She loves it and her pussy loves it even more," said Robbie taking his slimy wet fingers out of my cunt and putting them in my mouth to suck.

"Raise her up a couple more feet," ordered Robbie to the guys on my rope.

"Now let her drop two feet," said Robbie.

Two feet don't sound like much but when you reach the end of the rope, you feel like your arms are going to tear out of your sockets. I screamed with everything I had.

"Please no more, you're going to rip my arms off," I begged. Nancy was getting the same treatment. Of course, begging a sadist to stop hurting you only encourages them.

"Drop her again fellows, she's loving it," said Robbie.

Two more drops and I wanted to die.

"Raise her up and let me show you how to tell a true pain slut," said Robbie.

When I reached a certain height, Robbie told them to stop. He grabbed my ankles to force my legs apart then went down on me. And I'm not talking about sweet little nibbles and licks of my clit and the area around my vagina. He attacked me like a savage dog biting, chewing and sucking hard on my pussy. When he bit down hard on my clit, I climaxed.

"See that, now there is a true whore," said Robbie stepping back but maintaining me in my orgasmic state by roughly fingering my clit.

"Wow, Major, what a fucking slut. And she's your sister-in-law," said one of the Marines on the rope.

"Related only by marriage. Now drop her again while I keep finger fucking the whore," said Robbie.

Robbie managed to keep his hands on my clit as I fell the short distance. The intense excruciating pain in my shoulders coupled with my state of continuous orgasm overloaded my circuits and I fainted.

Chapter 44 – Pre Trip Party II

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material or if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file and story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

I came awake screaming as something incredibly painful happened to the fingers of my left hand. It only lasted for a microsecond but the pain was off the scale. It was over as quickly as it started. I went from a dead faint to a full-throated scream giving it everything I had in less than the blink of an eye. For a minute I thought I was screaming in stereo until I realized that Nancy Mavis was giving full voice to her pain from across the room.

"What did you do to my hand?" I asked nobody in particular. I was in a totally confused state of mind. Nancy was still yelling her lungs out. You'd have to say that the girl was being seriously hurt.

"I thought that would wake you up. Enjoy your nap?" said Robbie ignoring my question. It took a moment for me to understand that the person dressed as a woman standing in front of me was my brother-in-law. It took another moment for me to realize I was in an incredibly painful reverse suspension hanging about a meter above the floor. God how my shoulders hurt as I slowly swung back and forth.

"Hi Rozz, how are they hanging?" laughed a voice I recognized. When I managed to focus my eyes straight ahead, I found myself looking directly as a large flat panel display that was driven by a laptop computer sitting on a table in front of me. My heart practically stopped in sheer terror when I recognized the female staring at me.

My sister-in-law Mary Ellen was looking at me with an amused look on her face. She was naked, sitting in an easy chair with her legs thrown over the arms. One hand was idly tweaking a nipple, stretching it out, giving it a twist then letting go. Another laptop computer was perched on the broad arm of her chair.

"Isn't technology awesome? All I have to do is tap a key and your pain level goes off the charts," said Mary Ellen reaching for the keyboard. "And I'm here in Texas at Fort Hood a half a world away."

I screamed as fiery pain filled my other hand.

"Please, no more," I begged. I'd never felt anything like that.

"Torture by remote, all the way from Fort Hood, Texas via the Armed Services Secure Network, I can do a single body part. Let's say your ass hole," said Mary Ellen reaching once again for the keyboard.

My rectum became the center of a universe of pain. My entire body contracted in agony as I experienced something totally unique and at a level never before experienced. My contortions caused me to swing violently back and forth in my suspended state.

"For the love of God, Mary Ellen, stop, I'm begging you," I sobbed when I managed to get it together enough to beg. What had reduced me, a hard-core NYC-trained pain slut, to such a state in a matter of seconds?

"Or I can do a series," said Mary Ellen reaching out her hand to alternately tap two fingers.

First my right breast exploded then my left then my right again then left. Each time Mary Ellen touched a key I experienced unbearable pain.

Or I can hold a key down and concentrate on one area,' said Mary Ellen pushing a key down and holding it. My vagina convulsed as pain surged throughout the entrance and the lining all the way to my cervix. It felt like someone had reached into my cunt and turned it inside out. I had no idea how long Mary Ellen held the key down. It felt like forever but it could have been ten seconds.

I was hysterical and covered in sweat when she finally stopped. Saliva was dripping out of my mouth and nose.

"Enough of that for now. We'll play more later. Meet my two play sluts, Lt. Sonja Beeler and Lt. Kit Eversole. Salute Major Rosalind Donaldson you two," said Mary Ellen.

"Pleasure to meet you Major, Captain Donaldson talks about you all the time," said the pretty blonde girl raising her head to be in the camera as she saluted.

"That goes for me too, Major," said a handsome young man appearing on the screen and saluting. Mary Ellen touched the keyboard again. I cringed as I prepared to scream but the only thing that happened was that Mary Ellen's video camera moved down slightly so I could see she was having her rug munched while she tortured me.

I was in no position to return their salute so I merely nodded. The lieutenants were both naked kneeling between Mary Ellen's legs servicing her pussy with their mouths. Sonja was slowly thrusting a dildo in Mary Ellen's twat as they took turns licking her sex. I could hear the sound of her pussy squishing each time she pushed the dildo into Mary Ellen's vagina. Both the girl and the boy were outfitted with nipple rings, large ones.

"This is too fucking painful. I can't bear it," I cried breaking down into sobs. I had never quite felt anything like the pain my body had just experienced. Even though it was only for a few seconds, it had been ungodly. Since I couldn't see my body, I had no idea what caused it.

"That's your trouble, Rozz, you always underestimate what you can stand. Is that your girl friend, Lt. Nancy Mavis I hear screaming in the background? I understand she's almost as big a pain slut as you. Robbie told me what they were going to do with her. Men have such a thing for records always trying to out do each other. Poor Nancy she won't be able to fuck or shit right for a month. I hope she's got some Depends cause tomorrow her turds are going to fall right out her asshole," laughed Mary Ellen.

"Please let us go. We never did anything to you," I pleaded.

"No, you're a sweet little innocent army widow who married my brother for his money. Then you turned out to be the biggest whore in the entire Department of Defense. You made Trace a cuckold on your honeymoon in Maui. What kind of a slut sneaks out of the honeymoon suite and lets the hotel staff gangbang her in all their holes. Can you imagine being such a cum pig slut that you show up in the hotel laundry and let the locals have a piece of ass, adding their jism to my brothers? I bet you didn't think I knew that," said Mary Ellen.

"No, I didn't know you knew. I admit I have problems with sex and I can't control myself. But I really loved your brother. Please don't hurt us any more." I used 'us' because whatever they were doing to Nancy Mavis was resulting in some of the most hair raising and pathetic screams I'd ever heard.

"Robbie, are they making progress with Nancy? Oh, and I like the dress darling brother. You look terrific too, Larry," said Mary Ellen.

I could see the video camera that was aimed in my direction swiveling around. Mary Ellen was working a track ball on her laptop. She had control of the camera.

"I'll walk over and check," said Robbie heading in Lt. Mavis's direction. Nancy Mavis was across the room suspended upside down in a torture device that was unknown to me. Its basic shape was of a large Plexiglas cylinder with Nancy in the middle upside down. There was a circular platform and there were five naked Marines circling what I supposed was her upturned butt. They were working on her and she wasn't enjoying it one bit. Later I learned that one of the Marines had an engineering degree and was an amateur inventor. He had designed an apparatus whose sole purpose was to create a new record for the number of cocks in a single orifice. Their problem outside of the obvious one of space was stretching Nancy's butthole and pussy wide enough to accept all their cocks. Pussies are designed to accept only one cock at a time and assholes were created for an entirely different purpose. Those facts in no way discouraged the five young Marines gathered tightly around Nancy's upturned rear.

I could see a little of her lower body. Her arms were stretched downward. Straps attached to thick, coiled springs circled her wrists. Even from across the room, you could tell that her arms were stretched to the breaking point. She was violently shaking her head as the five surrounding her skyward-pointed lower torso tortured her. I couldn't see what they were doing to her. They were blocking my line of sight. Then one of them stepped to the side for a moment to stroke his cock. Nancy legs were bent straight out and slightly down like she was in a split that would have done the most flexible yoga master proud. God that looked painful. Her hip joints must have been screaming with pain. Her pussy and asshole were aimed straight at the ceiling and the Marines were working their cocks into Nancy's holes.

Having more than one cock in your pussy or ass is painful. Two dicks in your asshole and you feel like you're being split apart. Two in your pussy hurts but is manageable. I'd once saw a girl at the NYC Hellfire Club take three. To my mind and based on the laws of physics, that is the theoretical max. Nancy took five in her asshole first. Then the Marines pulled out and stuck five cocks in her pussy. The goal was to create a new world's record. The video of them stuffing Nancy's holes is posted on a WEB site. It's worth watching. They tightly surround Nancy with their arms wrapped around one another. The directly overhead camera captures the action as the five one by one put their cocks inside. Once they're in place, they slowly moves up and down in unison fucking poor Nancy. In the background, you can hear her screaming bloody murder.

After that they did combinations like three in her ass and two in her pussy. The crazy torture rack that Nancy was inside was the brainchild of the engineer of the five who had decided to set a world record. The five guys were all very tall and thin with long cocks, poor Nancy.

Larry had come into my limited view. He was also dressed as a woman and damn he looked good. He was wearing a short red cocktail dress. The ease with which Robbie and he moved around on their five-inch pumps indicated that this wasn't the first time that they dressed in drag. I wondered where in Afghanistan did they sell short sexy cocktail dresses and fuck me pumps. This was a country where the women wore burqa or got stoned to death by their male relatives.

"Suck it bitch," said Larry as he hiked up the hem of his tight skirt to reveal a rather substantial hard cock.

He placed it against my lips and pushed so I opened up and took it in. I figured sucking cock would take my mind off my situation. My arms were pulled toward the ceiling creating mind-boggling pain in my shoulder joints. My head was in a tight leather harness with inward facing metal studs that dug into my skull. There was blood tricking down my face where the studs had broken the skin around my forehead.

There was a tightening knob on my forehead that Larry gave a turn as I sucked his cock. The harness tightened up and I gasped in pain.

"Suck it right, bitch or I'll crush your fucking skull," said Larry.

Something was attached to the back of the head harness that was in turn anchored to an unknown object in my asshole. If I attempted to move my head forward, I created excruciating pain in my rectum. My ankles were widely separated held in place by straps connected to supports in the ceiling. There some kind of spreader bar attached to my ankles forcing my legs apart. It was a classic reverse suspension with additional options. My hands were incased in some sort of weird gloves and my feet in something that resembled socks. My boobs were similarly incased and there was something inside my pussy. It was all very strange.

"So far, they've got three in her pussy and two in her ass. They're cranking her open with those tools that Lt. Baker made. To amuse themselves, they're working on her clit and labia with pliers," said Robbie returning from Lt. Mavis's side of the room and reporting to his on screen sister.

"Did you put the hooks in her tits?" asked Mary Ellen.

"Not yet," replied Robbie.

"Well go do it, what are you waiting for?"

"All right," said Robbie walking over to a molded plastic case marked, "US Army – Fort Hood." He flipped it open, searched around a minute then took out two large stainless steel hooks. They looked like the kind of meat hooks you'd find in a slaughterhouse except they were nice and shiny like they were made of polished stainless steel.

"German made," said Robbie looking at writing on the base of the hook.

"High grade composite alloy, strong and light," said Mary Ellen.

I sucked Captain Larry Cashman's cock and watched as Robbie attached short chains to the hooks.

"Hw much weight?" asked Mary Ellen.

"Ten kilos like we discussed," said Robbie holding up an octagonal weight that he must have borrowed from the camp's gym.

"Turn the camera and microphone in her direction. I want to see and hear the Lieutenant scream when those hooks goes through her knockers," said Mary Ellen. "Be sure she gets a good look at them before you set them."

"In through the bottom and out the top?" questioned Robbie his finger lightly tapping at the point of the hook.

"Just like we discussed. Exactly like you did to that girl we picked up hitchhiking on the way to Maine the summer after you got your commission," said Mary Ellen.

"We did her tits with those fishhooks they use for swordfish," said Robbie.

"You did one boob and I did the other. Then we fucked her and left her hanging from an oak tree in the woods near Lake Winnipesaukee. She may still be hanging there for all I know."

"She was a sophomore at Dartmouth, pre-law. Man, did she yell when those hooks went in," said Robbie.

"Your mind is filled with inconsequential trash. She screamed even louder when we hoisted her off the ground and left her hanging. It was a windy day and she was slowly blowing with the wind yelling her head off," said Mary Ellen.

"Childhood memories, we've got some great ones," said Robbie.

"Try to get the point of the hook to exit right through the nipple," said Mary Ellen. "Be careful, the tip is razor sharp."

"The camera asshole," squawked Mary Ellen when Robbie started to walk toward the other side of the room.

"Oh sorry," said Robbie stopping to turn the tripod mounted camera.

"And make sure she gets to see the hooks before you set them. Anticipation is all part of the game," added Mary Ellen.

"Yes Sis, will do. I've done this before you know," said Robbie walking off wiggling his hips.

Larry was holding my head working it back and forth on his cock causing my neck and rectum considerable pain. Still I had a moment to reflect as I watched Robbie's butt in that tight skirt swishing across the room. It wasn't what I would call a heterosexual walk. I'd seen walks like that on Fisherman's Wharf in San Francisco.

"Oh God no," shrieked Nancy when Robbie squatted down to show her what he was going to puncture her boobs with.

Sucking Larry's cock when he was dressed in drag made me think that if this war on terrorism went on any longer we'd all go nuts and become gender confused, especially the officer corps. Ten years of fighting terrorists was taking a mental toll on the troops.

I recalled reading in a social history of the Napoleonic Wars that had gone on sporadically for almost twenty years that the professional armies of the day went off the sexual deep end.

In London, homosexuality became rampant. The officers of two respectable regiments like the Lancers and the Fusiliers would hold what they referred to as a "chiffon" party. These formal parties were large affairs with hundreds in attendance. The officers of one regiment would be chosen to be the femmes. They would dress in elaborate ball gowns. Officers wore their hair long so they didn't necessarily need wigs. Serious efforts to appear and act feminine were made.

A 'chiffon' ball would imitate the balls that were held during the London social season when young females of the nobility formally entered society and became eligible for marriage. The regimental orchestra would play and everyone would dance.

Of course, the difference was that the participants were all male and the evening ended in non-stop buggery. But the balls started normally with flirting and dancing before couples started pairing up and slipping off to one of the many rooms in the town mansions where the balls were held. According to accounts of the time, toward dawn the activity had degenerated into rooms of naked men sodimising one another in long lines.

Looking at Robbie and Larry, two ferocious warriors, dressed to kill as women made me think that the US military had already arrived at the chiffon ball stage.

As I did my 'no hands' best to drain the cum out of Larry's balls, I listened to Nancy Mavis's screams. Having large hooks pushed through your breasts is painful. I'd been there and done that thanks to Mary Ellen.

"I'm going to blow," said Larry grabbing the back of my head to force the first two inches of his pecker into my throat. "Bitch's screams are getting me off."

Larry hooked a couple of fingers of each hand under the straps of my head harness and used them as leverage to skull fuck me. Finally, he convulsed and blew his wad down my throat.

"You're nothing but a fucking slut," said Larry his saliva and cum covered cock across my face and hair. Then he leaned down and spit in my face to emphasize his point.

"Her eyes got big as saucers when I showed her the hooks. That look of fear always gives me a hard on," said Robbie as soon as he returned from across the room.

Mavis had stopped screaming for the moment. Her body was twitching and jerking. The ten-kilo weights stretched her tits toward the floor and you could see the bloody end of the hooks poking out the top of her breasts. There were streaks of blood starting at the entrance and exit points of each hook.

"How'd it go?" asked Larry once again slapping his cock hard across my cheek.

"Missed the nipple on her left titty on my first try. Got it right on the second attempt. Cunt pissed herself," said Robbie matter of factly.

"How's the world record coming?" asked Larry.

"Three in her pussy and four in her ass but they're still working. Bill's confident that she'll take five in both holes before they're done," said Robbie.

"That's terrific. It'll be quite an accomplishment for the unit. As soon as the other commands see what we've done, they'll be trying for six," said Larry.

"Yeah but we're going to require proof. Bill's got three remote camera capturing everything. We'll post the edited video on the Corps' WEB site. We keep the record until we see video proof," said Robbie.

"How wide are her holes?" asked Larry.

"You could stick your arm in her asshole. Pussy's getting there," said Robbie.

"I'll just walk over and see for myself," said Larry. "Pretty damn exciting moment for the Corps. Ironic that we're using an Army nurse for a cock kennel."

"Damn right it is, Semper Fi, Larry," sad Robbie as Larry walked away to the other side of the room.

"Let's amp her up," said Mary Ellen from the screen.

"What are you doing to me?" I asked. Normally one associates pain with force or heat or cold, something you can feel. When Mary Ellen tapped a key and I went out of my mind with pain I did not sense the body part in agony being slapped, whipped, crushed, burned, frozen or subjected to electrical shock. It was the most unbearable pain but the mechanism for causing it was a mystery.

"Ever hear of Operation Intel Freedom, Rozz?" asked Mary Ellen.

"No," I answered.

"I'm the Special Projects Officer for Intel Freedom. I'll give you the short description of the project. A Dr. Ariadne Walcott of Stanford University did some highly original research on how human nerves detect, quantify, and transmit sensations including pain throughout the body. Ariadne now works for me here at Fort Hood. She's quite a pain slut. You'd like her. She developed the first real understanding of how nerve endings work at their most basic level, the atomic one. We'd put her in for the Nobel Prize if it weren't such a secret. With me so far Rozz or do you need your cunt stimulated," asked Mary Ellen positioning her index finger over the keyboard.

"Yes, I follow you. Please don't hurt me anymore," I pleaded. Across the room, Lt. Mavis screamed. Someone shouted, "Four and four".

"Continuing, as you probably don't know, I have done some study, theoretical kind of shit, on how nanotechnology might be used to create weapons of the future. Frankly, nanotech in spite of the hype hasn't been going much of anywhere. It's becoming a materials technology like for self-cleaning windows crap like that. However, I had an idea. Based on Ariadne's research, could we employ nanotechnology to fool the nerve endings into reacting as if something incredibly painful had just happened? Still with me, Rozz?" said Mary Ellen taping a key causing me to scream.

"I understand, please stop," was all I could manage once I stopped screaming.

"Good, I will proceed. Would it be possible to employ nanotechnology in gathering battlefield intelligence? I wrote up a detailed description of my project and submitted it to the folks at the Department of Defense Research and Engineering department for funding. Well, the DDR&E bastards bought it. They set me up with a world-class laboratory here at Fort Hood. Hold it a second, Rozz, I'm going to cum," said Mary Ellen closing her eyes and grabbing the back of the heads of her two subordinates and forcing them against her pussy.

I watched as Mary Ellen's eyes closed then popped open and rolled back in her head. Her rug-munching duo was aggressively working on her clit and vagina when she hit the big 'O'. That was accompanied by a loss of bladder control. I recalled from my own experience in providing Mary Ellen oral service that releasing her bladder's contents into a waiting mouth was the grand finale of a good cum. She sprayed urine into the faces of the lieutenants who demonstrated their training by opening their mouths to capture their mistress's pee.

"Excellent you two," said Mary Ellen leaning down to kiss her two subs. I could tell they'd kept a little strong yellow to exchange by the way they pursed their lips and allowed Mary Ellen to recycle her body wastes.

"Rozz, do you recall those times, you ate my cunt and swallowed my urine?" asked Mary Ellen wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Yes, I did your mother, Denise, and you right before I married Trace," I said. We four Donaldson women had engaged in four hours of non-stop lesbian sex as part of some female family bonding tradition. It had included a part where the bride to be had to swallow the piss of the other female family members. Being a military family, the Donaldson's had numerous traditions.

"Yes, let me continue. In today's world and in spite of technological advances in my areas, gathering battlefield intelligence is fraught with problems and opportunities. For example, Robbie's unit is out in the field and they capture a Taliban. They need him to talk but those bastards are tough. You can twist their balls off and make them eat them but they don't cough up any useful information. It can take a week to break them. By that time what they know isn't worth shit. Furthermore, the human rights people show up and interview the Taliban who is now missing his nuts and they create a squawk about mistreating prisoners and the fucking Geneva Convention. The services need a tool that will quickly extract good intelligence from enemy captives and not leave a mark on them. Of course we all know that. Requirements include it must be small and able to be carried by an ordinary foot soldier. Those torture vans that the CIA came up couldn't be used in places like Afghanistan where there aren't roads and the terrain is mostly mountains. Plus you need a five-ton truck to pull the damn thing. Frankly the CIA really doesn't understand torture and have never had a dependable method for breaking prisoners. That's why they've outsourced torture to the Egyptians. Other requirements include able to withstand field conditions, simple to operate, quick to apply, and most importantly create a level of pain that the most fanatical terrorists who hopes to be a martyr cannot withstand not even for a few seconds. Well, my team here at Fort Hood did it," announced Mary Ellen proudly.

"So how does it work?" I asked.

"I combined Dr. Walcott's research with the most advanced nanotech to create a material that releases nanobots that cross over into the human body, locate nerve endings and stimulate them to cause unheard of pain levels. When I press this 'Alt-l' key, by the way it's for your left tit, nanobots, robots the size of a few atoms, pass into your body, locate the sensitive nerve endings in your breasts and excite them in the same fashion that a good pair of nipple clamps would. But because of the way the nanobots work, they can stimulate the nerves far greater than say a razor sharp alligator clamp," said Mary Ellen before quickly pressing and releasing the key.

Mary Ellen smiled as I shrieked my pain.

"When I release the key, the nanobots cease their activity and the pain goes away. All this happens in less than a microsecond," said Mary Ellen.

"It's really possible to do that?" I asked. It seemed too futuristic. Robots the size of a few atoms had entered my body located my nerve endings and attached them in a manner that simulated pain. It was the stuff of Star Trek or Flash Gordon. I could picture Ming The Merciless applying nanobots to Flash's oversized dick.

"Fucking yes it is. Plus the material that contains the nanobots resembles ordinary cloth that can be shaped into garments. Your hands are in gloves. Your tits are in a brassiere made of the stuff. We've also fabricated it into latex sheets and that's what's in your pussy and asshole. It's remarkably versatile. Robbie has been field-testing it for me. It works. Last week they captured a Taliban known as a hard case. Supposedly the Russians worked on him for days and got squat. Robbie's Marines' encased his balls in the material and activate the nanobots. A two minute application of the NP-3 and he was singing his head off. You're in an NP-4 by the way," said Mary Ellen.

"An NP-4?" I questioned.

"We've made several improvements. Robbie, put the clit device on Rozz," said Mary Ellen.

I begged and I mean begged for Robbie to leave my clit along but he ignored me. I felt something like pliers grab my love button and pull it down then I felt something clamp around the base of my clitoris. That part was uncomfortable but not particularly painful. My most sensitive female part was tightly encased in Mary Ellen's device.

"All set," announced Robbie when he was finished.

"Now I press Alt-C," said Mary Ellen extending both hands toward the keyboard.

There are not words to describe how my clitoris felt when the nanobots went to work. I could certainly see how no one could withstand torture like that. Later, when I had time to think I realized that Mary Ellen device would revolutionize the torture industry just as I with Bashira's magic root was hoping to revolutionize the female pleasure business.

I don't know how long she held down the Alt-C but moments later when she finally stopped I had pissed myself and snot and saliva were dripping out of my nose and mouth.

"We have one other NP-4 enhancement we want to show you. It's an amplifier," said Mary Ellen.

Robbie touched something at the back of my skull and I felt a sharp pinch.

"What was that?" I wailed.

"It's a very long and thin needle being inserted in the base of your brain. It picks up the pain signal and amplifies it. It works similarly to a stereo amplifier. It boosts the strength of the signal. So even if you left tit is not hurting all that much, your brain thinks it is in titty hell," said Mary Ellen.

"Oh my God," was all I could say.

"We got five in her ass," someone shouted from across the room.

"I'll demonstrate. First, without the pain amplifier, I press 'Alt-r' for right tit." Said Mary Ellen.

I writhed and twisted as my breast experienced hellish pain.

"Now I hold down the Control Key then press 'Alt-r'," said Mary Ellen.

How do you say that the pain was worse? But it was ten or twenty or a hundred times more painful. The strange part was that I didn't scream or twist. There was no muscular contractions or writhing. I didn't move. It was a pure form of pain, agony and nothing but agony.

"See the difference," asked Mary Ellen.

"Yes," I said weakly.

"And there's not a mark on your body. No nosy Human Rights asshole could find a place on you. There is absolutely no way for you or them to prove you've been tortured," said Mary Ellen.

"It's brilliant," I said and I meant it. Mary Ellen was a twisted psychotic bitch that would have loved to work for Hitler but she was a genius when it came to hurting people.

"Thank you, Rozz. That's sweet of you to say. Now I'm going to torture you with the NP-4 for a while," said Mary Ellen in her sweet little girl voice.

I started screaming for her to stop. I recall that a cheer of success rose from across the room where Lt. Nancy Mavis gained a secure spot in the book of perverted records.

All I can say is that I lived through it. Robbie said that Mary Ellen tortured me with the NP-4 for one half hour. When it was over I passed out.

Someone splashed cold water on my face and I came too. There on the screen was Mary Ellen looking pleased with herself.

"You're now the record holder for most minutes of NP-4 torture," said Mary Ellen.

"Kill me, please kill me," I whined. Things were quiet on the other side of the room. When I looked past the screen I could see that Nancy was sitting in a chair near me. Her hands and feet were bound to the chair arms and legs. There was an identical chair beside her. Robbie and Larry had lowered me to the floor and were removing all the NP-4 gear I was wearing. As soon as I was free, they put me in the chair beside Nancy and strapped me down.

God what's next I wondered? My question was answered when Robbie opened another Ft. Hood stamped plastic case and extracted two large plastic containers. One contained a brown substance I assumed was shit and the other a dark green liquid that I knew was piss.

"Open up and swallow," said Robbie as he slipped a plastic tube into my mouth. My esophagus took it down past my stomach valve into my belly. Larry was doing the same to Nancy.

"I thought we'd finish off my part of the evening with a snack. Are you girls in the mood to eat shit and drink piss? I must warn you that I've reduced the water content of the urine to give it some extra kick," said Mary Ellen.

Nancy and I were both too fucked up to even consider resisting. Robbie and Larry were busily connecting wide mouth plastic funnels to the tubes in our stomachs. The funnels were held by wire stands attached to the backs of our chairs. There were five young Marines watching intently as Robbie and Larry got us ready.

"Ever seen a cunt swallow shit or drink piss, Carl,' asked one Marine to another.

"Had a girlfriend back in college who was into water sports. She even kept frozen piss pops in her freezer to lick when she was in the mood. But she didn't eat shit," responded Carl.

"She ever drink yours?"

"Where do you think she got the piss to make the pops?"

They removed the top off the containers and began to ladle the loose shit into the funnels. I could see the brown substance slide down the tube and disappear in my mouth. Seconds later I felt it land in my stomach. They alternated between a scoop of shit and a cup of piss. The smell was awful and the taste somehow reached my mouth. I felt my stomach growing tighter as they packed it full. I began to look as if I was eight months pregnant. Finally they emptied the containers and stopped. Both of our navels had become an outtie.

"We got a little time," announced Robbie turning toward the five younger officers and hiking up his skirt. He reached back and pulled the tong out of his butt crack. "I could use a good pounding. How about you, Larry?"

"Same here, who wants to be the first to fuck my tight ass?" said Larry.

"I will, Captain,' said the Marine named Carl fisting his cock.

I passed out watching five young Marines take turns sodimising Robbie and Larry. They looked damn hot bent over with their skirts above their waist, clad in garter belt and hose with their butts spread. After a while, the two decided to take it in both ends. Totally exhausted with a belly stuffed with warm shit and piss I drifted off to sleep to the sound of Uncle Sam's finest grunting in response to having their butts fucked.

Chapter 45 – Pre Trip Party III

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material or if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file and story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

"Stability ball, we're on fucking stability balls, I said aloud attempting to clear my pain clouded brain.

"Are you all right, Major," asked Lt. Nancy Mavis in a weak voice.

"No, I'm not all right. I want to die," I said. There was not an inch of my body that didn't scream with pain. When Nancy and my torture session started hours ago, we had been beaten with rubber truncheons over every inch of our body. During and after the brutal beating we were savagely raped. My tits and pussy had the teeth marks to prove it. Nancy was subjected to the orifice expanding attention of five Marines while I endured the most fiendish high tech tortures that my depraved and psychotic sister-in-law backed by billions in Pentagon research funds could devise.

"We're in a cage," said Lt. Mavis looking around which wasn't easy given the degree of tension in our limbs.

The two of us were on our backs strapped over two large inflated balls. They were exactly the kind found in the workout room at Camp Gardez. Stability balls are supposed to improve the quality of the workout by forcing you to isolate on certain muscles. Basically, workout stability balls are inflated polymer spheres that range from one to four feet in diameter.

We used them every day in our Pilates class. I'd say the ones under Nancy and me were over a meter in diameter. Straps around my widely separated wrists and ankles stretched me almost to the floor. My back formed the letter, 'C' over the top of the ball. That alone was damn painful.

Nancy and I were facing opposite directions. When I looked over I could see her cunt was open. She also looked eight months pregnant like me.

"Is the same thing in your belly as mine?" I asked looking at the over stretched skin covering her enormous bulging abdomen.

"Piss and shit, what's in yours," responded Nancy.

"The same, most of it from my sister-in-law in Texas," I said.

"Mine's local. After they broke the records, they stuck a clear plastic tube down my throat and attached a funnel. Then each of the five took a dump in the funnel. I slowly filled up to where the last guy couldn't get all his inside my belly," said Nancy.

"At least yours is fresh. Mine was produced over a number of days in Texas. The piss had most of the water removed so it had the consistency of cane syrup. My guts hurt so bad," I whined.

"You could stick your hand up my ass or pussy and never touch the sides. I bet I have to wear diapers to keep my turds from falling out my ass," said Nancy who seemed on the verge of hysteria.

"God I wonder what they are going to do to us next," I said. At that moment, Robbie and Larry entered the room.

"Mustafa is going to be late. So I get to spend some quality time with my sister-in-law," said Robbie opening the door to the cage and stepping inside. I saw that he was carrying one of those flexible canes that the Marines like to use on Afghan prisoners. They set your body on fire and they don't leave a mark nothing for the human rights watchers to bitch about.

Larry was right behind him and similarly equipped. They were both still dressed like women on their way to a cocktail party. They looked like the kind of whores that showed up at an Officer's Club on weekend nights hoping to get laid. What a fucking bizarre night it was turning out to be, one to tell my grandchildren about if I survived.

"Don't hurt me anymore. I'm beyond my limit," said Nancy to Larry who had stepped up to her and put his hand on her swollen belly.

Larry apparently took umbrage at Nancy's remark because he stepped back and slammed his cane across her abdomen creating a bright red stripe. Lt. Nancy Mavis was a Class A screamer. The woman could really howl and she cut loose with a yell that would wake the dead anywhere but Afghanistan.

"I'll tell you when you reach your limit, cunt," said Larry.

Larry's blow took Nancy beyond her limit because she began crying hysterically once the pain in her tummy subsided enough that she could get her breath.

"Can't let you have all the fun, Larry," said Robbie raising his cane and bringing it down on my watermelon sized belly. I let out a wail of anguish as my arms and legs strained against the straps.

"Think we got time to give them ten and then skull fuck them," said Larry. "It may be a while before Mustafa shows up with the circus?"

"We'll make time. Mustafa can wait. Bastard's late anyway," said Robbie. You want to call it or shall I?"

"I'll call it. I love the way this bitch screams. It's so fucking primal."

Larry yelled, "One," and the two cross dressers simultaneously landed the flexible canes down on our very tight stomach. Even without an abdomen stretched tight as a drum it would have created a level of pain considered unbearable.

During the Middle Ages, the French invented the torture of filling a person's stomach with water or excrement then putting something round like a log under their spine to tighten the abdomen even more before going to work with a scourge.

General Donaldson has several rare drawings from the fifteen and sixteenth century of prisoners being punished that way. I remember one set of wood block prints in particular. It showed a large square in Paris filled with several thousand spectators. In the center of the square is a raised platform. Guards lead a noble woman out, Marquesa Marie Duchamps, a member of the court who had refused the king's reasonable request for oral sex on the ridiculous excuse that she was happily married to the Marquise and considered adultery a sin. In the second drawing she is stripped naked in front of the crowd. That one always got my juices flowing. I'd love to be forced to remove my clothes in front of a large crowd. The guards are shown placing their hands on her privates. Her husband is nearby helplessly looking on. Next they stretch her on a rack with a round piece of wood under her lower back so she is bowed upward. One of the guards uses a wooden mallet to hammer large wooden pegs in her ass and pussy. Her facial expression indicates she is not enjoying their attention. The guards and some spectators are shown pissing and shitting in a large bucket. Madame Duchamps has a funnel inserted in her mouth and they pour the bucket in the funnel forcing her to swallow using a wooden pestle. Once she is seriously full of feces, two guards apply scourges to her abdomen. At some point she regurgitates covering her face and upper body in vomit and shit. The final drawing is of the women being tossed almost lifeless in a cart and driven away. I considered it one of the General's best examples of period erotica.

But it is one thing to look at wood block prints while you masturbate and quite another to endure the torture. Robbie landed a couple of shots right on my pussy to make sure that it was hurting in all the right places. The skin on my abdomen was almost translucent. My normally inward navel was an outtie. I was wondering if I would get permanent stretch marks that I would carry to my grave.

There was nothing to be done except endure. As soon as the count reached ten, Robbie hiked up his tight skirt, slipped hiss thong to one side and forced his cock between my lips. I really didn't suck his cock although I tried. Like Larry said, it was a skull fucking where I held my mouth open and Robbie rammed it down my throat. Because it was the kind of degrading and de-humanizing sex that he loved, he blew his load in short order and a couple of tablespoons of jism joined the piss and shit concoction in my tummy.

Just when I thought he was done, he got another idea.

"It's not right that your gut's filled with Mary Ellen's shit and none of mine. I got a hot turd you can chew on," said Robbie turning around and positioning his ass over my face.

"No," I screamed.

"All right, another ten no twenty on the tummy," said Robbie picking up the cane. "That should change your mind."

"I'll eat it. Go ahead," I said leaving my mouth wide open to indicate my change of mind. I couldn't take another blow from the cane on my stomach. It was already bright pink and glowing. It felt so hot.

"Good idea, let's see if Lt. Mavis likes to eat her shit right from the source," said Larry turning around to position his rear over Nancy's face.

Robbie held his ass cheeks apart as he lowered his rear to where it touched my lips. I put my lips around his sphincter. I heard him grunting and I could feel the strain. His anus slowly opened. With a few more grunts and the type of pushing that could give you a bad case of hemorrhoids I had a half-inch of his shit in my mouth. I put my lips around the turd and sucked it into my mouth as Robbie pushed. It was several inches of soft shit that I had no choice other than to chew up and swallow.

"Water?" I begged. It felt like my mouth was packed with foul smelling and tasting fudge. I needed something to wash it down.

"Sure, Roz, open wide," said Robbie.

Seconds later, his piss landed in my mouth. I didn't have a choice. I used the piss to masticate the turd and swallowed. My lips were smeared with brown and the smell and taste were overwhelming.

"Mustafa, you're late, you freaking bastard," boomed Robbie still dribbling urine in my open mouth. He shook his pecker off and pushed it back under his thong then lowered his skirt.

When I looked toward the door, there was a wizened elderly Afghani. He was standing quietly between two apes that were obediently holding his hands. I'd had enough primate zoology to recognize the species. They were orangutans.

"Are Sadie and Emmy Lou ready to have their snatch eaten?" joked Larry. "Roz and Nancy are just dying for some lesbo sex with your girls. Aren't you Major, Lieutenant?"

Chapter 46 – Pre Trip Party IV

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material or if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file and story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

"No fucking way," I screamed. Poor Nancy was crying hysterically at what was about to happen. Having sex with one of the great apes was out as far as I was concerned. My wide and varied sexual appetite was limited to Homo sapiens. I was not the kind of girl who was willing to fuck just any primate.

Some monkeys are cute. A girl friend in college had a pet monkey. He was darling to look at and mildly entertaining. But they make lousy untrainable pets. They can't be housebroken. She spent a lot of time cleaning up monkey shit. If a stranger entered her apartment, the horny little bastard would immediately hide in a corner and give himself a hand job. He was worse than a Mississippi leg hound when it comes to embarrassing his owner. His favorite trick was to wack off a batch of jism when a visitor arrived then offer it as a present. If the girl hadn't been there before, she'd stick out her hand thinking it was something else and be rewarded with a palm full of semen. It was kind of cute when you think about it.

Orangutans are definitely not cute. They are ugly as sin, smell like a sewer and spend their leisure time playing butt games.

"Quiet," ordered Robbie landing the cane lightly across my red-stripped stomach. "You'll scare the girls."

I lay there sobbing as Robbie led one of the orangutans over to me. I must have been a sight that even a great ape didn't find all that attractive.

"Check her out, Sadie,' said Robbie. Sadie reached a hairy paw down to my face and rubbed it over my mouth. Her paw covered with the residue of Robbie's shit and piss immediately went to her nose. Sadie must have liked what she smelled because she stuck her stained fingers in her mouth and sucked on them.

"That's right, Emmy Lou, sniff her nasty pussy," said Larry who was introducing Nancy to her lesbian partner.

"Ever do it with a dog, Rozz?" asked Robbie.

"No," I replied honestly. I didn't have a lot of limits but I did try to keep it within the species or at least the genus. Would I fuck a Neanderthal or a Cro-Magnon, maybe even an Australopithecine, probably. But just out of scientific curiosity and to advance man's knowledge, I probably wouldn't be hot to do him.

In the S&M world I frequented I'd played the role of a dog. In college I had a master who made me wear a collar, walked me on a leash and fed me from a doggie dish on the floor. It was fun for a while but got old quick. And he never suggested that I take a canine as a sex partner. At the NYC Hellfire Club I'd seen slaves suck and fuck dogs. That included a male slave whose mistress thought it was great fun to force him to fuck a German shepherd bitch after he ate her pussy. That was nasty and I had got myself off as I watched. I recall sitting on a nearby couch working a rather vicious two pronged dildo into my pussy and asshole as the submissive first gave the bitch head then proceeded to fuck the living daylights out of her.

I didn't know much about orangutans other than they were only found these days in Sumatra and Borneo. They were probably on somebody's endangered species list. I did know that the orangutan is a member of the primates and one of the Great Apes. From somewhere I recalled that the Great Apes were anatomically similar to man, genital-wise. This idea was reinforced when Sadie at Mustafa's urging climbed on top of me and lowered her human like snatch to my face. The pressure she put on my feces filled tummy was not welcome but I managed not to turn into a shit fountain.

A glance sideways showed that Emmy Lou had mounted Nancy. Poor Nancy was once again displaying her survivor credentials. Her face was buried in Emmy Lou's cunt and from the licking and slurping sounds, I could tell Nancy was engaged in her first case of rug munching with an ape. Not to be left behind, I pushed my face into Sadie's rank hairy valley, detected what I took to be a clit with my mouth and went to work with my tongue. Just pretend you picked her up in the lowest meanest lesbian bar in Patterson, NJ when you were drunk out of your mind. The bartender had called closing time and you were determined not to go home alone.

Sadie sort of moaned as I licked her hairy cunt. I took that to be a positive sign. It wasn't long before I felt some viscous liquid ooze down on my face. The bitch was definitely getting off.

I head Mustafa bark some commands in Pustun. Momentarily, Sadie's very capable mouthparts attacked my well-fucked cunt.

"I wonder which one cums first," said Robbie who along with Larry was manning two professional looking tripod-mounted digital video cameras. Good I told myself. I wouldn't want a wonderful moment of interspecies sex like this to be lost for posterity. My memory rolled back to my youth when I watched Nature on PBS and several other shows on Animal Planet. They occasionally slipped in a quick shot of sex between other species. My favorite was of a black manned African lion putting the stones to a lioness while the rest of the pride watched. It was a no holds barred screwing. Predators are better fucks than prey animals. They can take their time. No one is lurking nearby ready to kill them while they're getting their jollies off. Apes don't have too many natural enemies other than man. They're into leisurely fucking in trees.

"My money is on Rozz and Nancy. Emmy Lou and Sadie are just dumb animals but those two are whores through and through. There's nothing too foul and perverted for them," said Larry.

Sadie and I ate each other for a while before Larry's prediction came through. Sadie's large, hyperactive and flexible mouthparts made me wonder why every lesbian in American didn't have a female orangutan at home. That ape could eat pussy. Those big lips and tongue adapted for a fruit and leaf diet were ideal for working clit and labia. Sadie brought my Bartholin gland production to maximum in a matter of seconds. I was pumping out so much cunt oil that I was in danger of dehydrating. And Sadie was lapping up my pussy juice like it was jungle honey.

I squealed and gasped for breath as I reached my first inter-species orgasm. It was a rock-my-world climax that I felt in every cell of my body. I lost control of my bladder spraying piss in Sadie's face. Showing near human intelligence, she made a quick adjustment to swallow my stream of golden liquid. She swallowed my stream of strong yellow until my bladder was empty. Damn that primate was definitely into down and dirty female sex.

Nancy's orgasm wasn't much behind.

"Oh shit I'm cumming," yelled Nancy. Her body was shaking and twisting as Emma Lou brought her to the 'little death' as the French call it. Being a trooper and sensing that my partner was expecting me to get her off, I redoubled my efforts at eating her snatch.

Moments later after some intense and concentrated clit sucking, Sadie and Emmy Lou showed that their DNA was ninety-ninety percent human by having one of the loudest and shrill cums I'd ever heard. Female orangutans are not shy about announcing when they hit the big 'O'. Their screams made my ears hurt. Sadie displayed her talent for imitation by pissing in my face. Orangutan piss is not mother's milk. It tastes like paint remover.

"What an incredible slut you are, Rozz. My brother was crazy to marry you. You'll fuck anything that breathes," said Robbie as Mustafa removed Sadie and Emmy Lou from the cage.

"Let us go now, Robbie. You've raped, tortured, and humiliated Nancy and I beyond reason," I said.

"We're almost done. We've saved the best for last," said Robbie.

"That was the most disgusting thing I have ever done," said Nancy. "Her pussy tasted awful. Her pee was worse."

"Wait until you get a taste of their jism, Nancy. Here comes Mustafa with the boys," said Larry.

Mustafa followed by four large male orangutans came into my view.

"The boys ready for a little tail," asked Robbie?

I couldn't understand Mustafa's reply. Robbie may be a troglodyte when it comes to relations with the opposite sex but he is a gifted linguist and for that matter, a skilled battlefield commander. If your unit comes up against Robbie's in combat, you better get out the body bags. Afghanistan was the perfect war for him. It was lawless to the extreme and firepower was the only thing that commanded any respect.

Robbie briefed us with a little background information as the male orangutans investigated Nancy and my privates.

"Mustafa is in the employ of the local warlord, Sheik Abdul Hak-Hakim. The Sheik does significant business growing opium, processing it into heroin and smuggling it to Europe. My Special Ops unit in return for a large financial consideration eliminated several competing warlords and convinced the local poppy growers to sell exclusively to the Sheik. You'd be surprised at how effective smart bombs are in garnering cooperation. The Sheik bought these apes from a dealer in Indonesia and had Mustafa train them to have sex with humans. The Sheik uses them to convince his rivals and anyone else who crosses him to cooperate. You'd be surprised at how cooperative these Afghanis get when they're faced with the prospect of watching their wives and daughters be ape fucked," said Robbie.

"And when we heard that you were coming for a party, we asked the Sheik if we could borrow them for a little fuck session. Being a pal, he agreed under one condition," said Larry.

"What was his condition?" I asked.

"We video the entire thing and give the Sheik a copy. We plan to make a copy for the General and Mary Ellen. When I told her I was going to film you having sex with the orangutans she fell on the floor laughing. She's planning to have some friends over, order pizza and watch you and Nancy cohabiting with the lower primates," said Robbie.

"Now that Sadie and Emma Lou have made sure you smell and taste like female orangutans, Eddie, Tom, Bart, and George will be eager to participate," said Larry.

"Why don't you fuck them? You're dressed like a couple of whores," said Nancy.

"Believe it or not they do queer things with each other. They give each other hand jobs and blow jobs but I've never seen them screw each other in the ass," said Robbie.

Robbie then proceeded to ask Mustafa whether the male orangutans played pitcher and catcher with one another.

"Mustafa said they don't butt fuck one another," said Robbie looking disappointed. That made me wonder if Mustafa had replied in the affirmative Robbie would have hiked up his skirt for a little ape sodomy. Like I've said before, the long war on terror had taken its toll on the mental state of our soldiers. If you'd been dragging your ass around Afghanistan for a year, fighting practically ever day, the idea of having an ape stick his dick up your ass wouldn't sound so bad. You'd think it much better than going in a dark cave filled with booby traps and/or terrorists.

"It's late. Let's get started," said Larry suppressing a yawn. Robbie and he took up positions behind the tripods.

"You do the close-ups," said Robbie pushing the Record trigger on his camera as he yelled something at Mustafa.

I'd drawn Eddie and Tom for my partners. Bart and George got Nancy. Bart and George were currently investigating Nancy's cunt with their fingers. Mustafa was standing behind his two charges urging them on. They moved slowly taking their time. Nancy's earlier record breaking experience with the five Marines had left her pussy in the same state as if she had just given birth to a nine pound baby. Bart and George seemed surprised that they could get easily get their hands inside her pussy. Nancy ever the soldier in the finest army in human history was whispering, "Work that pussy, hand fuck me," over and over again.

Mustafa busy with Nancy's ape rape had left Eddie and Tom unsupervised for the moment. They amused themselves by gently sucking my tits. That respite gave me a moment to reflect on my limited knowledge of sex with the great apes.

The General's collection of porn, supposedly only exceeded by that of the Vatican, includes some grainy black and white films that the Belgians made in the Congo of native women having sex with mountain gorillas. I was mindful that Eddie and Tom were about half the size of a gorilla and nowhere near as fierce. In the film, two terrified native women are thrown naked into a cage with a large mountain gorilla. For a while, he ignored the cowering women. Then he grabbed one of the females and proceeded to fuck her like she was a rag doll. It went on a while. It was a straight camera shot, no close-ups so it was hard to see exactly what was happening. Like most mammals, it was dog style.

Mountain gorillas weigh over four hundred pounds and their muscle fibers are far denser and more compacted than comparable human ones. A gorilla is very strong even for their weight. After the gorilla blew his load in the female, he dropped her to the floor. She wasn't moving. The ape rapist took a drink of water, ate some fresh leaves, and then grabbed the other female for round two. It was the same story. The girl screamed and kicked in terror as the gorilla pounded away. Once he dumped his seed, he dropped the girl's body to the ground.

The final scene illustrated the unbelievably savage nature of the King Leopold's colonization of the Congo. Two Belgians demonstrating their sportsmanship shot the gorilla in the cage. This was before anybody became concerned with things like endangered species. Other natives go into the cage, drag out the gorilla's body and that of the girls who while not exactly dead aren't fully alive either. The last scene is of two white hunters standing proudly with hunting rifles beside the dead gorilla that was propped up sitting beside the cage. The two women are sprawled in the gorilla's lap.

My recollection of that short film was interrupted when I heard Nancy moan loudly as George slipped his cock into her cunt and began to pump away. Mustafa had trained the apes well. Bart took up a position straddling Nancy's face. Nancy responded in her normal fashion opening her mouth to accept any offered cock. I could tell from the way her cheeks hollowed that Lieutenant Mavis was doing her best to show Bart a good time.

"That's great, Mustafa," yelled Larry from behind the camera.

"It's your turn, Rozz, enjoy," added Robbie.

And yes it was my turn. Mustafa came over to give Eddie and Tom their marching orders. Orangutans have short truncated bodies and legs but long powerful arms. Like man, they're equipped with four fingers and an opposable thumb. Eddie and Tom had both explored my cunt with fingers and thumbs. Adapted for swinging from trees, their toes are long and capable of grasping a tree limb or a titty in my case.

Eddie's stubby uncircumcised cock was presented to my lips. I opened my mouth, ran my tongue over the cock head and got busy. Tom got my pussy.

Until almost the end, it was a decent double penetration fucking. I was getting good clit contact from Tom and outside of the odor sucking Eddie's prick produced good wood. Their hairy arms surrounded my distended belly providing them something to hang on to while they hammered my orifices. All in all, I've had worse fucks.

Eddie and Tom were in no hurry. They got into a rhythm. After a while at Robbie's suggestion, they switched positions. I sensed that matters were starting to build. Nancy was moaning and groaning. Now, she was repeating, "fuck me ape boy, fuck your Nancy's pussy."

I climaxed proving once and for all that there was no act too perverted for Major Rosalind Donaldson not to reach an orgasm. Don't be judgmental. I can't help the way I'm genetically engineered. We don't get to choose our DNA.

My orgasm triggered Eddie and Tom's setting off a simultaneous flood of jism into mouth and pussy. As the boys unleashed their semen, they sounded howls that rocked the walls and caused me a temporary loss of hearing. I later read that the mating cries of a male orangutan can be heard for a mile in the jungle. It's nature's way of bragging to the other creatures of the forest that you have scored.

As the jism flowed and their cries of sexual success reverberated through the camp, they reflexively squeezed their powerful arms around my shit packed tummy. They squeezed so hard that what I had managed with difficulty to keep down all evening escaped in a torrent from my mouth and asshole. Shit and piss came out my orifices like a fire hose. For some unexplained reason, that excited Eddie and Bart to both squeeze and climax to the maximum. My head was buried under a pile of crap.

At Mustafa's command, Eddie and Tom dismounted. I wiped brown sludge from one eye to see that Nancy had suffered the same fate. A fresh cow pie covered her head.

I heard the sound of clapping. Moments later, Robbie dumped the first of several buckets of water over my head.

"Damn Rozz, that was spectacular. I thought we were just going to film a good ape fuck but the finale was incredible, one for the record books," said Robbie.

Chapter 47 – Hindu Kush

Please take note! Adults Only Literature

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are an underage minor or offended by such material or if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file and story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

****

We were three days out of Camp deep into the Hindu Kush. The scenery is some of the most spectacular on earth. Snow covered peaks towered above us. The air was amazing clear and clean. Robbie's team of sixteen battle-hardened Marines was taking it slow aware that this was ambush territory. Whole armies had gone into the Hindu Kush seeking the enemy and few had ever come back out again.

Bashira and I were the only two women along. She looked adorable in her uniform with the soup pot helmet and goggles practically swallowing her. I'd get so horny during the day watching her cute little rear bouncing up off the ATV seat that I couldn't' wait until we were alone in our bivouac tent.

After Bashira and I working in tandem servicing the Marines, we'd bury a double-ended dildo in our cum-filled cunts. God is there anything hotter than the look and feel of semen oozing out the sides of a latex filled twat. We'd scoot together until our clits were in contact. We'd kiss, suck tit, and grind out clits together until we climaxed. After that it was sixty-nine time. I usually took the bottom. Semen obeys the Law of Gravity when it oozes out of a well-fucked pussy. I'd let my mouth slowly fill with girl juice and the dregs of well-stirred Marine jism. Tossing the mixture back and forth across by tongue before I swallowed, I loved every second as it wound its way down my esophagus into my belly. After we ate each other to a climax, we'd both fall sound asleep until morning

Right before dawn, Robbie would climb in our tent for his start of day threesome. Bashira and I took turns rimming his ass. Given that most days, he'd stopped to take his morning dump before he arrived at out tent, it was a brown start to our day.

With Bashira along, servicing sixteen Marines didn't present a problem. After we'd set up our bivouac tent, we'd invite the guys to visit in pairs. There we would be shoulder to shoulder with a virile muscular man between our legs pumping away until he dropped his load. Often the two would switch around a few times so most nights there were sixteen different cocks in my twat. It went pretty fast. As soon as a soldier pulled his fatigues up and backed out of the tent, his replacement would arrive. It was a small two-person tent and maneuvering around to suck cock or rim a Marine butt would get the two of us giggling and laughing like a pair of schoolgirls. Most of the time, they climbed in the tent hard as rocks and it was a simple case of insert, pump and dump.

There are times when I realize how lucky my life has been. There I was young and healthy with a guaranteed eight fucks a day. Once there were eight loads of high-octane jism in my box, Bashira and I would curl into a sixty-nine and lap up each other's cream pie until we hit the Big O. Between that and the mountain air I slept like a baby.

We had almost made it to Bashira's tribe when our luck ran out and we encountered the enemy. A scout reported there was a large force of hill people up ahead less than three kliks. They'd spotted us and were headed in out direction. We were lucky. Robbie was able to call in an air strike almost immediately. The sound of a stick of two hundred and fifty pound bombs came from the other side of a large hill. The tribesmen probably never knew what hit them. A Marine scout laser-painted them as targets for the planes far too high overhead to see from the ground. Smart bombs locked on to the painted enemy and that was that. One moment you're rushing to capture the enemy and the next your ass is being blown all over the Hindu Kush.

"Major, I'm going to leave you and Bashira here with Sgt. Lawson. Command wants me to gather any intelligence from what's left of the bunch that the air support just splattered," said Robbie.

The three of us waited as the others drove over the hill to what was left of the enemy. The sound of an occasional shot reached us. Robbie's command was finishing off the wounded. Sgt. Lawson wasn't much of a talker; so we sat quietly drinking water. All of a sudden I noticed some movement off to our right.

"Run," yelled the Sergeant as bullets started to whiz by us. That was his last word. A small red hole appeared in the center of his forehead. Blood and brains exploded out of the back of his head onto the rocks.

"Get to Robbie," I screamed at Bashira as I unsnapped the safety on my assault rifle. I let loose a long burst at the oncoming tribesmen taking a couple down. Bashira had already climbed on her ATV. She motioned for me to come.

"Go. I'll cover you," I screamed once again as I emptied the clip. I'd repeatedly emphasized to Bashira that if things got dicey, she was to do exactly what she was told and do it damn quick. She floored the ATV's accelerator and off she went. I covered her escape with a long clip-emptying burst.

I'd ejected the clip and inserting another when a mujahadeen out of nowhere knocked the rifle out of my hands and hit me on the chin with the stock of his AK-47. I have a vague recollection of falling toward the earth as things turned black.

****

When I regained consciousness, I was strapped across the back of my ATV being driven to parts unknown. There is probably no worse fate for an American female soldier than to be captured by one of the hill tribes in the Hindu Kush. We rode for several hours thus diminishing my hopes for a quick rescue.

When they finally took the filthy sack off my head I found myself in a large room inside what must have been a private home. Afghan homes are dark places with garbage-strewn interiors. Sometimes sheep and other farm animals wander in so you can imagine how they smell.

The walls and floor were stone but the roof looked like it was made out of sticks. A good two-dozen men were crowded into the room. One of the men set to work on the buttons of my blouse. I resisted the urge to help or hinder him. I quickly realized the majority was there to watch me being stripped naked. Normally, I would have been more than happy to take my own clothes off but they insisted on doing it for me.

If I live through this I will never ever try to be a heroine again I told myself as four tribesmen who hadn't bathed since the last rainfall (and it can be years between showers in this part of the world) removed my shirt, trousers, boots, and socks. They were rough about it too. They kept slapping me and shouting angrily when they couldn't figure how to undo something.

"Take it easy," I said in Pashto not that I thought any of them spoke Pashto. Just for fun, I repeated my remark in Dari, the other official language of Afghanistan. When I was down to my underwear they stopped to admire the result. I got curious stares while they marveled at my diamond navel jewelry and my lace red bra and panty. Apparently, the Tonga Thong was not worn that much by the women of their tribe because everything halted while each male examined my underwear. They made me turn around several times so all present could take a look at my exposed buttocks. The kept pulling the narrow strip of material out of butt then letting it go to disappear back into my crack. That caused a flurry of excitement and loud conversation among those assigned to strip me naked.

The lack of progress in getting me to an au natural state caused the hetman to appear and start barking orders. I smiled at the hetman and arched my back to thrust my boobs in his direction in the vain hope that he might decide to keep me around for his personal amusement. This was in spite of the fact that he was not exactly GQ material. He had only one good eye, the other an empty socket decorated with scar tissue and sporting a thin line of pus that dripped down his cheek. His teeth were mostly missing. Those still present were green with black spots. He also had a curved white scar on his other cheek that must have been stitched up with packing twine by the tribe drunk.

One of the over achievers of the group managed to solve the problem of how my bra was fastened. All of a sudden my boobs were free. Someone pulled my panty down and when I stepped out of them, he ran off at top speed brandishing them over his head and shouting something at the top of his lungs.

The appearance of my shaved sex decorated with a narrow rattail caused another round of consternation. I stood passively while they poked around my pussy trying to assure themselves I was female or human. I wonder how they would have reacted to a transsexual with a big set of boobs and a nine-inch cock.

My attempts to flirt with the hetman were a complete failure. He must have been a fag. They marched me out into the sunlight toward an open space in what I took to be the village square. The entire population was gathered to watch what was about to happen. The women started making that weird high-pitched cry that signifies nothing much in particular but is disconcerting to Western ears.

There were children everywhere. Several young boys rushed up to touch my ass only to be shooed away by my escorts. In the center of the square was a raised stone platform. There were two posts in the center of the platform a couple of yards apart. There were iron rings at the top and bottom of each post.

I suppose that if I didn't face the prospect of some form of horribly painful death, being naked in front of hundred of men, women and children would have turned me on. It has before. I'm an exhibitionist at heart. My most erotic fantasies always involve public humiliation followed by equally public gang rape. The watchers are never just men. It's families of all ages. I was about to live my fantasy but I was too scared to get off on it.

I climbed the two steps to the platform. My escorts tied ropes around my wrists and ankles then proceeded to stretch me tight between the two posts. There was blood seeping out from under the ropes when they were done. I looked like a four-pointed star painfully stretched and exposed. A young boy climbed up on the platform unnoticed and felt my pussy attempting to get his small hand in my vagina. I was uncertain whether he was motivated by lust or curiosity. When finally one of the men saw the groper, he grabbed the boy by the arm and led him back to his parents. They all seemed to have a good laugh out of junior's snatch grabbing.

The crowd gave out a small cheer as the hetman accompanied by several other dignitaries stepped up to the front of the platform. One of the group walked over to me and smiled to display his missing teeth. I watched as he removed his shirt. I made two observations. First of all, for a local he was much larger and more muscular than most. Your average Afghani man is short as a jockey and thin as a run way model. Starvation is the national pastime in Afghanistan. My second observation centered on the very nasty looking whip hanging from his waist. Why did the man chosen to whip me have to be the Arnold Schwartzeneger of the Hindu Kush?

He put one hand in my hair to pull my head backward to the point that my neck was about to break. When I opened my mouth to protest, he hawked a gob of slimy spit to the back of my throat that promptly slid down into my belly. That must have been a crowd pleaser because there were shouts of encouragement from the crowd.

Once I was in position for whatever they had planned the hetman stepped forward and made a short speech. It was at that point that I noticed a clean, well-dressed young man standing beside the hetman. I had no idea where he had come from. He was definitely not with the bunch that captured me. He looked almost as out of place as I did.

The hetman was from the Fidel Castro School of speechmaking. As he went on and on, the young man slowly edged back my way.

"It is too bad for you," he whispered when he was close enough.

"You speak English," I said in surprise.

"Yes, I went to school in London. My name is Kashi."

"Hi Kashi, I'm Rozz actually Major Rosalind Donaldson. Can you make them let me go," I asked.

"No, they consider the very idea of a woman soldier an offense against God. Their honor requires that you be punished."

"What are they going to do?"

"You don't want to know. "

"Look, I am a very rich American widow. I can pay whatever sum you name to get me out of here. How does one hundred thousand US dollars sound? No, let's make it a quarter of a million."

"Money is meaningless to these people."

"I can arrange for a thousand Kalishnokov's to be delivered and a million rounds of ammunition. All I need is a cell phone."

"They wouldn't trust you. They will believe you will bring the American army to attack them."

"They can keep me hostage until the guns and ammo are on site. Speak to the hetman for me. I will make it worthwhile for you not only financially. I'm a terrific cocksucker and a great no limits fuck. I'll do anything you want and do it well."

I watched as Kashi walked back to the hetman that was just winding up his speech. They occasionally glanced in my direction as they talked. I tried to smile when they looked my way. Their lengthy conversation made the crowd restive. Who wants to watch two men gab when there is an attractive naked female to whip?

Finally, Kashi came back.

"Did he agree?" I asked.

"He wants to think about it over night," replied Kashi. "Rafindi is a prudent man who does not decide quickly."

"And in the meantime?"

"He cannot disappoint his people. For today, matters will proceed as planned. Abdullah will whip you until the skin on your back is flayed. Then all the men of the village will recover their honor by raping an infidel. That's you. After that, they will let the women of the village have you for the night. That will be the worst part. Tomorrow, if you are still alive, Rafindi may decide to accept your offer," said Kashi.

"And if he doesn't?" I asked.

"In this tribe, execution is simple. They will first use hot knives to remove all your skin. They will preserve your flesh in their holy place. Next they will drive a sharpened iron pole in the ground and impale you through your vagina. That is how you will die. "

"Tell him two thousand AK-47s, the good Chinese made ones, and two million rounds of ammunition," I said. The thought of winding up a religious relic was not appealing.

"I will tell him but it will change nothing," said Kashi leaving me to walk back to the hetman and deliver my improved offer.

Rafindi wasn't buying. He gave me an unpleasant look and walked off the platform leaving me with muscle boy who started to limber up his arm by snapping his bullwhip in the air. After a dozen loud air snaps, the whip landed dead center of my back. The pain was mind-boggling. It hurt so bad it took me half a minute to open my mouth and scream.

My torture was a professional because the next blow was successfully targeted on my right shoulder blade. And the following blow made my left shoulder blade hurt just as much as the right. A few more blows and I could feel blood splatters when the whip landed.

The man with the whip demonstrated his skill by causing the whip to wrap around me and land on each boob taking a small patch of skin off my areola. I passed out when I looked down and saw that a piece of my hide was hanging on by a tiny skein of flesh. My hosts immediately revived me by dumping a bucket of cold filthy water over my head.

You know a public lashing is working when you loose control of your bowels and you shit yourself. At least that's what the experts at the NYC Hellfire Club used to say. Once the submissive shits himself right there in front of everybody, you know the pain is real. The pain is so great and the impact of each blow so profound that your body forgets about the task of keeping your asshole closed. The very tip of the whip landed on my right nipple causing me so much pain that my resulting muscular contractions sent shit out my asshole like it was a fire hose.

Not unsurprisingly, the crowd watching my public defecation sounded a murmur of approval that grew louder when then a corresponding blow on my other boob, resulted in what must have been a complete emptying of my GI tract. All fourteen feet of long intestine and eight feet of the shorter version gave it up. Major Rosalind Donaldson emptied out in less than a second.

Loosing control of your bowels is not uncommon in execution and torture. In the days of public hangings in the US, I have read where the wardens stuffed rags and even wooden pegs up prisoner's butt holes so things did not get too messy. Supposedly at earlier executions when the noose ran out of slack, the jerk was so violent that turds came flying out at escape velocity. When they landed on the pavement, the splatter was wide spread and those lucky enough to have the closest view were splattered with shit.

Somewhere in the General's extensive library of pornography, torture, and executions was a first hand illustrated account of the execution of a Mary Eleanor Pierce a young miss of twenty four who poisoned the wife and smothered the child of the man she was having an affair with. This was officially classified as a crime of passion. The execution took place in London at Maidstone in 1754.

The author begins by recounting the circumstances of the execution. He attributes Mary's haunted look and painful gait to repeated rapes by her jailers who extracted their own form of rough justice. Raping female and even male inmates has always been an important perk of jailers. Biographies of Joan of Arc report that prior to being burned at the stake, the youthful messenger of God was relieved of her virginity by her several dozen Burgundian guards. The sainted girl's pussy was so sore that she hobbled to the stake her hands clutching her ravaged sex.

Keep in mind that in that time public hanging was considered far too merciful by a public that had until recently displayed an avid taste for watching miscreants have their intestines removed by making an incision in their belly then slowly wrapped around a take up spool. After their guts were properly extracted or drawn then wound around a large wooden spool they were burned while the condemned watched. Skillful executioners employed several tricks to keep the victim alive so he could experience the horror of watching his lower intestinal track reeled in. Afterwards they were castrated, beheaded and cut into quarters. So given that hanging was considered a sissified form of public retribution and that Mary was a comely lass, the wardens performed their own version of punishment which consisted of a non-stop assault on Mary's orifices in the days prior to her execution. At least that was the rumor according to the author.

The term, 'prodigious' was applied to the quantity of feces that Miss Pierce released. "The smell of colcannon and boiled beef assaulted my nostrils," was a quote I recalled referring to what must have been Mary's last meal. Our intrepid author noted that another bystander lifted Mary's petticoats to reveal she had gone to her maker without her drawers. My thought at the time was that the missing knickers were most likely hanging on the wall in the warden's office signed by the members of his staff. Could you imagine what something like that would bring on eBay?

The author of the historical account complained vociferously that his recently purchased trousers and waistcoat were soiled. The moral of the story might have been that if you have VIP seating at a hanging, wear old clothes.

I can only say that my own unanticipated bowel evacuation sent shit flying in all directions much to the crowd's delight. Those standing closest to the platform and behind me were treated to a fine spray of watery brown shit. The Afghani wielding the whip had to stop and wipe his eyes and whip hand whose firm grip was imperiled by the slick contents of my bowels.

Far from being repulsed, the crowd waxed enthusiastic over the brown rain. Keep in mind that Afghanistan is so poor and benighted that having someone shit on you is considered lucky. It breaks the tedium of the day.

Having my brown moment in the sun, I continued to scream in agony as the whip landed time and time again. Cuts appeared in my breasts and I could feel blood flowing down my back.

Kashi was nearby enjoying the show. I repeatedly begged him to make them stop. He just stood there smiling as the whip removed my epidermis. I noted a bulge in the crotch of his trousers. No doubt he was anticipating Phase Two of the day's events.

Finally the whipping stopped but Phase One was not quite finished. From somewhere, my torturer came up with a bucket of what appeared to be crude white sand. He took a handful and looked into my eyes as he rubbed what turned out to be salt in the cuts on my left tit.

Even though crying, begging, pleading for mercy and offering money and pussy to everyone did me no good, I pursued it anyway. Large unrefined salt crystals found their way into the lesions created by the whip sending me into a frenzied dance of agony. As soon as the left tit calmed down enough for me to stop screaming, he did the right. He took a double handful of salt and wrapped both hands around my boob then squeezed and massaged it like he was kneading a loaf of bread.

I would have shit myself if there had been anything to expel. My back followed my tits in the salt treatment. It felt like several layers of skin were missing from my shoulder blades to my buttocks. The salt was pure hellish agony as the crude crystals were forced deep into my cuts. I started screaming to Kashi begging him to kill me but the just smiled and said something to the hetman that caused him to smile too.

At that point, the crowd broke for lunch leaving me there in my agony. The sun added to my pain as it bore down on my ravaged body. With the adults gone for the noon meal, the village boys exploited their opportunity to climb up on the platform and copt a feel. I was too far-gone to give a fuck as their small hands probed my orifices. Lunch over; the return of the adults caused the boys to scurry away.

I watched as several men carried a table constructed of unfinished lumber up the platform steps and set it in front of me. Men in the crowd were gesturing at me and grabbing their crotch. Normally, the Rozz is always up for a gangbang. If being screwed by one man is good, then two is better and three is best; but this was ridiculous. They cut me down from the posts and threw me on top of the table. The hetman exercised his prerogative and went first.

I went in and out of consciousness as different members of the tribe mounted me. There were young boys that looked like they were barely out of puberty and old men who had to be helped to climb on the table. It was one hole fucking no oral or anal. After a while, the lining of my cunt started to abrade from overuse. The pain grew as their pricks slowly sandpapered the walls of my snatch. I began to moan and whimper at each thrust. The whimper turned to screams as the day turned to dusk. The crowd hung in there not wanting to miss a thing. Each time, one of them blew his load; there were cheers and claps.

Finally as the sun was about to set, my most prolonged and painful gangbang ended.

I was vaguely aware that two men were dragging me into a building right off the village square. Darkness had apparently ended my gang rape. I was hoping they would throw me a cell and leave me alone until tomorrow's execution or even better cut my throat and end my ordeal. In the back of my mind was Kashi's remark about turning me over to the women of the village for tonight. Given the fact that my back was missing its outer layer of skin and the salt crystals kept finding new and painful ways to enter the cuts in my flesh, it seemed ridiculous to torture me more. Combine that with the fact that my pussy was leaking blood and further torture seemed pointless. I would have preferred a quick death to further pain. However I had underestimated the ingenuity of Afghan tribal women.

I'd read somewhere that British soldiers campaigning in the Hindu Kush rather than becoming prisoners of the mujahadeen would blow their brains out before allowing themselves to be captured. According to accounts of officers who fought in the region, tribal women were skilled at emasculating a male over a period of days. After first removing the eyelids, they would make the soldier watch as they slit his scrotum open.

They would then extract each testicle individually and snip off the connecting tissue making certain that the soldier was completely aware of what was happening. Given the degree to which men prize their nuts that must have been devastating to say the least. It was certainly a much more drawn out and lengthy torture than the Manchu practice of placing the victim's balls on a metal plate and smashing them flat with a large mallet.

At the end, the unlucky Tommie would have his cock severed at the base. The women would apply a white-hot iron to cauterize the blood vessels thereby preventing a quick death by exsanguinations. The previously removed gonads would be sewn back into the scrotum. The soldier's last meal consisted of your own manhood washed down with urine supplied by the women. It was a form of ritual cannibalism.

In the 1850's, a Lieutenant Osgood Waverly of the King's Rifles was captured and subjected to all but the final step of having his throat cut before managing to escape. He wrote a vividly detailed account of his mutilation a copy of which found its way to General Donaldson's library. Lieutenant Waverly spoke highly of the skill the women displayed in keeping the man alive and awake through the process of emasculation.

Unfortunately for my own piece of mind, my two escorts carried me into a room occupied by several tribal women who immediately began to sound the most terrible chants as soon as I entered. Clad in black from head to toe with only their faces showing they were a terrifying sight. Quotations from the Quran were written in black ink across their faces. The area around their eyes was blackened with kohl. They appeared dressed to star in a good old fashion horror movie.

I was dragged to the center of the room and dropped to the stone floor. Female hands lifted me to another rough-hewn table. In a matter of seconds I was totally immobilized by leather strapping.

I watched in terror as an old woman with a long thin knife shaped like an ice pick approached. She began by closely examining the top of my left foot. After she had completed her visual examination, she slipped the tip of the knife under the skin on top of my foot then slowly ran the point down the length of my first metatarsal. Bone scrapping, I'd heard of it but never imagined I would be subject to it. Even the most extreme blood worshipping extremists of the S&M world eschew inserting a knife tip under the skin and then rasping the point across the surface of the bone underneath. It's a practice that must have been dreamed up in hell.

I shrieked as I felt the sharp metal tip travel from the very top of the bone to the joint. After two passes over the first metatarsal, she switched to the second metatarsal. The other women began to chant something as background to my cries of agony.

After the woman was finished with my left foot, she scrapped the bones on my right. I kept begging them to kill me. If I passed out, they revived me. After my feet, two different women tortured the bones in my hands. Time passed with agonizing slowness.

They inserted long needles down through my nipples reaching to my sternum allowing them to scrape up and down that large flat bone. It seemed like they methodically scrapped almost every bone in my body. They saved my pubic bone for last. One of the women captured my clitoris in a crude pair of pinchers and extended it so another could insert a long thin needle length wise through my overstretched button. I could feel the tip of the needle touch my pubic bone then move slowly across the surface of my skeleton. I cannot imagine anything more painful. I could no longer scream. I was beyond pain.

Their final act of torture was to cut off my labia. I was so far gone that I didn't give a shit. I assumed they were going to remove my clitoris as well but they left that alone. One of the women used her fingers to stretch the outer fold of tissue until it was translucent. Another employed a razor sharp knife to carefully slice the tissue off at the base. The carrion was cut into small pieces then passed among the women each of whom took a small piece and ate it after murmuring a prayer. My God these people were savages.

A narrow bar of white-hot iron was passed over my wound to cauterize it. After my outer lips were removed, they trimmed off the inner labia. One of them forced the bloody flesh of my inner lips into my mouth. I was forced to chew and swallow it. In later years and after a few drinks I sometime recount my tale of being made to eat my own pussy.

When they were done, my cunt resembled Bashira's. I later learned this was done to make my impalement more visually appealing. The entry point of the iron bar into my vagina could be clearly seen by the crowd.

I was allowed to pass out for good. The next morning I was awakened by several of the men who took me back to the square and once again stretched me between the poles.

"Rafindi has refused your offer of weapons. He does not trust you. You will be skinned and impaled," said Kashi when I arrived on the platform. Somehow I gather he preferred that outcome.

I was beyond caring. A nearby table contained crude knives that based on their curved shape I assumed would be used to skin me alive. Two of the knives were being heated in a nearby brazier. The crowd had gathered to watch the finale.

Just as the man assigned to remove my hide was about to make his first incision in the base of my neck, all hell broke loose. Several of the larger buildings in the village exploded into piles of ruble. A machine gun chopped out a sizeable swath of the crowd creating a panic. Everybody began to run. All of a sudden the Marines arrived. Overhead a pair of helicopter gun ships was spewing death into the fleeing crowd. Bodies were flying up into the air as their cannons methodically raked the crowd. Then Robbie and a couple of his guys were cutting me down, throwing me on a stretcher lashed across the back of an ATV. A corpsmen stuck a syringe in my arm and I went off to Demerol heaven carried by the sweet sounds of the screams of dying tribesmen.

Torture The Widow

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