Grace cringed in abject fear against Ricky Karl's legs, an act that caused the fat man to laugh in a cruel sadistic glee a noise that sounded more like the nocturnal barkings of a jackal. "Go ahead, Andy. The snooty little cunt's all yours."
"Oh, please. No. You promised to help me. Don't. Oh, God! Please, Mr. Karl. He'll hurt me." She was trembling violently now, close to fainting but afraid to lose consciousness for fear of being handed over to the torturers.
Andy glanced down at her, puzzled at first by her frightened comments, then he realized she was stupid enough to think that Ricky really was handing her over to him for good. He laughed. "Shit, lady, I'm not going to kill you… yet. Not unless I kill you by fucking you to death. But I am going to fuck you. I watched that tight little pussy of yours wig-wagging back and forth while you were blowing Ricky and it was all I could do to keep from running over here and giving it to you from behind dog fashion."
Again in Grace's mind there was that surprising juxtaposition between happy relief at receiving another last minute pardon and revulsion at the man's obscene language and what he was requesting. Even as this thought was being formulated, Andy had begun undressing. She watched, in horrified abhorrence and close to nausea as he removed everything but his jockey shorts beneath which she saw the awesome shape of his penis – frighteningly long and thick even though it was still hidden by the cloth. The wiry muscles stretched like cables on the little horseman's body. He looked tough, capable, and there wasn't an ounce of fat on him.
"Get up. Take off everything," Andy demanded. "I don't want any of that frilly crap getting in my way when I shove my cock into your cunt."
Mortified and humiliated, Grace glanced once up toward Ricky as if seeking salvation, but the sadistic look of burning anticipation in his eyes made her realize there was to be no hope from him. She stood, still trembling but less violently than before, and unfastened her garter belt. Slowly, using both hands, she peeled down the hose on her right leg and stepped out of it.
Andy watched as she removed the brown sheer hose from her other leg. Then she was standing before him, eyes downcast and subservient. She was taller than he by at least four inches, but that didn't matter… he had the great equalizer between his legs. When he got through reaming out her proud little cunt, she'd know a real man had fucked her and his Goddamned height wouldn't make any difference at all. There was only one thing more he wanted, and he said, "Don't take offense, Ricky, but do you mind if I have the cunt wash out her mouth. I don't relish kissing a mouth full of your cum."
Ricky giggled obscenely. "Go ahead, Andy. Let her gargle with whiskey."
Grace heard all this without any emotion. She had numbed her body and her brain so that she would feel nothing, hear nothing. A bottle of bourbon was shoved into her hand as Andy snarled, "Go ahead and gargle, you sweet little cocksucker, you."
Grace tilted the bottle to her lips and swished the liquor around in her mouth. She looked mutely toward Ricky, but found only amusement on his moon face. She swallowed the whiskey, choking and gasping, and then feeling the need of assistance in getting over what was obviously going to be a horrible time, took another long, deep drink before putting the bottle back on the table.
Ricky stood for the first time. His wrinkled little sausage of a penis was almost too small to be seen beneath the repulsive roll of fat that hung like a white rubber tire below his navel. He jerked his head toward the couch. "Fuck her there, Andy; I'd like to see the action you get out of her goody-goody little pussy."
Andy grinned nastily, then the smile faded from his mean tight little face as he looked at the voluptuous young brunette standing like a slave on an auction block in front of him. "You heard him, cunt. Lie down on the fucking couch and spread your legs."
As if she were a zombie, Grace did as she was instructed. She could feel the slight scratchiness of the couch pushing against her naked back and buttocks as she lay back, resigned and unfeeling, awaiting whatever depraved obscenities that might be heaped on her head.
"Look at this cock, baby. I want you to see what Daddy's got for that little pussy of yours," Andy crooned.
Grace turned, not knowing what to expect, then gasped when she saw the awesome size of the jockey's penis. It seemed almost bigger than the man. No woman could ever take that without being split apart; that massive cudgel would rip her from vagina to anus if he tried to put it inside her. She swallowed, now unable to tear her eyes from the frightening sight.
Ricky asked, "Wouldn't you like her to suck on it? She's a talented little cocksucker."
Andy wrapped the fingers of his left hand around the mid-part. Even with both hands on it, there were still two inches of trunk and the mammoth head uncovered. He looked over toward Ricky, grinning. "Naw, no blow job for me. I never told you this, but when I was twelve years old, I met a woman who could really suck cocks; I mean, she had her own little Hoover vacuum cleaner in her mouth. That was when I was twelve. You know something, Ricky, I was five feet ten inches tall and had a two inch pecker. When she got through sucking on me, I was five feet two inches tall and had a ten inch cock."
Ricky blinked then began guffawing as he realized Andy had just put him on. Grace tried to shove herself even deeper in the couch. These two men undoubtedly were the lewdest, the most depraved individuals she had ever encountered in her life. Their obscene conversation and words scraped like coarse sandpaper against the tender sensitivities of her soul, in spite of the fact that she thought her mind and body had been sealed off from them.
"All right, cunt. Spread your legs, I'm going to ride your little pussy just like I was in the Kentucky Derby," Andy said, his eyes glittering now with a lewd anticipation.
Grace knew there was nothing she could do but obey. No sense in asking anyone here for mercy or forgiveness or gentleness. Her eyes locked once more on that long thick cock extending out from his loins. He was going to hurt her, she knew beyond a doubt. He would relish hearing her scream, would delight in every groan of pain that was pulled forcefully from her body. And Ricky, sitting now over there on the chair, would equally enjoy her pitiful moans and pleas.
Grace lay still, resigned to her fate, with her thighs spread wide waiting, waiting for the rape of her helplessly young vagina, Stan's vagina, to begin. Her belly quivered in fear and she could already almost feel the terrible pressure, the stretching as his huge penis pressed nakedly against the open lips of her small, defensively clenched vaginal opening.
Andy bent down over her prostrate body, and without warning fastened his teeth harshly into the nipple of her right breast. In spite of all her resolutions not to cry out or give them pleasure by letting them know how much she was hurt, she groaned in pain and attempted to twist away from the sudden sharp torture. With her first movement of escape, Andy used his hands – strong powerful hands accustomed to handling reins and recalcitrant horses – to hold her tight down against the cushions of the couch. When she lay acquiescent again, his hands began playing over the softness of her thighs and hips. Now his lips roamed wetly over the whitely palpitating mounds of her breasts, Grace felt an unwanted pleasure coming from his lewd caresses.
"Go to it, boy," Ricky said in encouragement, as he felt a new arousal beginning in him from the sight of the coldly aloof and "holier than thou" young wife being subjected to the gross indignity of being treated like a common street whore.
Andy's lips slobbered over the soft sensitive areas of her body, and although there were moments when it seemed he was being gentle, his hard, cruel eyes were greedy mirrors of his sadistic desire. Impatiently now, he moved his left hand down across her abdomen and used his middle finger to explore her softly quivering cuntal crevice. Grace squirmed down further into the couch, seeking to evade his touch. Andy grinned nastily, then looked over toward Ricky. "That blow job she gave you must have turned her on a little. She's wet between her legs, almost ready to fuck." He teasingly rotated his finger up into the moist, hot furrow of her vagina and was rewarded by a frightened moan of pain. Even before her vagina had grown accustomed to the worming finger, a second one joined the first.
"Oh please! You're hurting me," Grace wailed, hating herself for voicing her pain, for being unable to numb that secret part of her down between her helplessly open legs.
"Shut up, bitch," Andy growled. "When I want you to bark, I'll throw you a bone." In retaliation for her protest, he mercilessly ground his fingers in as deep as they could go into her helplessly spread vaginal opening. Grace bit her lips this time to keep from crying out, but she was unable to keep the tears from welling up in her eyes.
Apparently satisfied that she was as ready as she would ever be, Andy said, "Spread your legs out wider, baby, I'm coming now. You're going to get screwed like you've never been screwed before. You're going to twist and squirm when this prick of mine sinks all the way into your belly. And before I pull it out again, you're going to be screaming and begging for more." He glanced down at her in amusement. She was shocked by his words, the bitch probably never had a man talk to her that way before. And suddenly, he knew that when this one – unlike the hookers and lay-about wives he was used to fucking – started begging, she would actually be begging! He also knew instinctively, had known ever since he saw her cunt making little circles back behind her as she hungrily sucked on Ricky's cock, that she was going to beg. Oh, she would fight it… would do everything in her power to keep from getting with it… but once his prick got inside that tight little cunt, her pussy would get so hot that she would be crying for it. The thought served as a goad and he knew he had to have her now.
Quickly then, he levered up over her, his arms stiff, his powerful hands resting on her well rounded shoulders. He dropped one hand down between their bodies taking the hard pulsating prick between his fingers and guided it forward, using the thick rubbery head to part the softly curling pubic hair and the warm, ripe lips of her naked cunt.
Now that the moment was at hand, Grace turned her head to the side on the couch, closing her eyes with a shudder as she felt the first contact against the sensitive outer lips of her fevered pussy. She held her breath, lying absolutely still in utter subjugation beneath him, not daring to breathe… like land before the storm.
Then she felt the first harsh unrelenting pressure against the tight elastic opening of her vagina; it was at that moment her breath rushed out of her body in one long sustained protest, "Ooooooooh."
Andy grinned cruelly and pushed.
"Aaaaagh," she cried as the huge head slipped through, brutally stretching the tight rubbery opening until Grace was sure that flesh and bones were being split – like the wishbone of a chicken. Suddenly all her good intentions of bravery fled as the pressure continued and built up. "Oooh, God. Don't. You're hurting me. Please. YOU'RE HUR… TING… MEEEEEE." The last was screamed at the top of her voice, as pain forced her eyes open and she saw his cruelly grinning face sadistically looking down at her. He was killing her, she would die right here. Nothing could be more painful or agonizing than this, and what made it even worse was the undeniable fact that the sadistic beast was enjoying her pitiful pleas, was enjoying watching her suffer beneath the barbaric cruelty of his slow relentless penetration of her cunt.
Andy listened with undisguised sadistic pleasure to her abject pleas. He had known ever since he first wormed a finger into the warm damp confines of her pussy that she was going to be hurt because she had the tightest little cunt of anyone he had felt in years. This was prime stuff! She was Goddamned near a virgin, he thought, and not very many peckers had been shoved between those creamy widespread thighs. When he finished with her, she'd throw rocks at that young punk of a husband of hers. Christ! Here she was squealing like a stuck pig and he hadn't even gotten more than his head inside yet; she'd go absolutely ape shit when she felt all ten inches banging on her ribs like a stick being drawn across a metal picket fence.
Abruptly, the cruel smirk on his face faded, replaced by an implacable masque of sheer animal desire. The feral lust was upon him; he could stand it no more, watching this helpless, innocent young wife spread-eagled beneath him with the head of his thickly pulsating cock disappearing like an ostrich into the softly curling hairs of her warm, moist cunt.
He decided to quit screwing around and get down to the fucking. He had to fuck her – had to, right now!
Andy's hard muscular little body fell forward, his weight crushing her firm, succulent breasts hard down against her chest. He thrust his hips forward with one mighty shove and his long sleek cock slid into her open cunt with a savage fury, mercilessly spreading the soft moist flesh of her warm vaginal walls before its lust-hardened head. "Aaaaagggghhhh," Grace screamed, her eyes wide and unblinking in sheer agony. There was no stopping the skinny man, his mammoth cock thrust in with all the force of a battering ram and her vainly resisting pussy opened wide against the barbaric onslaught. Down, down, down it drove until, with a loud groan of lewd delight, his testicles slapped heavily against the defenselessly upturned cheeks of her tightly clenched ass.
"Ohhhhhh, God!" she wailed beneath him. She thought her vagina had been horribly stretched when Jim Meloney had done it to her, but this man – this little jockey – had filled her cunt to the point where it felt as if the handle of a sledge hammer had been shoved into her, as if his plunging cock had ripped and torn and defiled not only her outer parts but her innermost depths. He had lanced into her without mercy, sending a pressure wave of pain roaring before his penis so great that she thought she would lapse into unconsciousness. Now, an infinitesimal second later, his huge throbbing rod lay sunk deep in her belly, and she could feel every hard tiny little ridge pressing tight against the soft, tender walls of her pussy. It was hot, powerful – something incredibly primeval, prehistorically reptilian… frightening in its indestructibility.
Man and woman lay there in silence for a moment, both staring at each other, woman waiting and afraid to move, man feeling the hotly pulsating walls of her cunt enclosing his prick like a strong hand of a dairy maid that squeezed and let up, squeezed and released, milking his cock against its will.
Andy flexed his hardness deep inside her.
"Auuuuuuggh!" she grunted, closing her eyes in pain, "Please don't move."
"You've really got a tight little pussy, baby, but we'll stretch it out for you, starting right now," he taunted, flexing it once more.
"Aaaagggh, please don't." This time it was a deeper moan, with her face twisted in pain and neck muscles straining out from the force of her resistance.
Then, the lewdly grinning man began a slow, teasing rocking motion between her thighs, and each inward thrust was like a tiny explosion of a fire bomb inside her, burning and searing the soft, nerve-filled flesh. As his motion widened the tight narrow passage of her cock-filled little pussy with short, smooth strokes, Grace groaned in hopeless defeat beneath him.
Ricky stood up now and moved quietly over to the copulating couple on the couch. He had seen fuck shows before, but there was something about the earlier arrogance of the previously aloof and untouchable Mrs. Hope that aroused him more than he had been for years. He watched as the thick white shaft of glistening penile flesh, shining now from her involuntary cuntal lubricant drove relentlessly in and out of the coral pink lips of her hot moist vagina. The little jockey was really pouring it to her, he thought, as he watched the rapid rise and fall of the rider's buttocks and heard the sound of naked flesh smacking naked flesh. Even as he stood there watching, he sensed a sudden change in the woman's physical behaviour. Earlier she had tightened every muscle in her body – fighting the brutal penetration, being completely uncooperative. Now he saw the first signs of weakening, of submissive resignation from her. It was a simple thing, almost unnoticeable. Her toes had curled in tightly against the tuft of the couch, and her calf muscles had begun flexing with each new inward thrust of Andy's cock.
Grace knew her body was about to betray her, just as it had revolted against her morals and inhibitions that night when Jim Meloney had first made her an adulteress and plunged his prick into her. She fought against this new betrayal, praying silently for succor, but it rapidly became apparent that prayers and will-power were useless against an emotion and need older than mankind itself. Abruptly her body took complete command from her resisting mind and began reacting involuntarily. Lewd flames of desire were suddenly sparked and, blown by the gale-like winds of her own wanton needs, spread throughout her abdomen and streaked through her veins until her entire body was consumed with a fiery lust. She no longer had the will-power or desire to fight him; she had lost the battle and now she knew that in spite of her revulsion and horror, she was about to surrender completely to this man who unmercifully fucked into her between her open legs. She looked up and saw Ricky Karl standing less than three feet away. His eyes were glazed in a lewdly shining lust as he watched them and his fat hand had enclosed his penis, stroking it as though he were mesmerized. The lewdness of that event, combined with the thought of what her naked body was doing – of what was being done to her naked body – sent helpless chills of unwanted sexual sensation running along the base of her spine.
Helplessly, hesitantly, she began to twist and writhe beneath the rhythmically fucking man. With a low groan of complete submission and pleading she reached up and locked an arm around his neck, pulling his face down to hers. She shoved her tongue with a wanton abandonment deep into his throat, as inarticulate mewls of feral, slave-like acceptance bubbled from her lust constricted throat.
Andy, feeling her body beginning to react, slipped his hands down over the naked curves of her hips to the supple, smooth white moons of her heaving buttocks; he cupped them harshly with each hand and began pulling her suddenly eagerly cooperating ass cheeks up toward him on each punishing inward thrust.
Grace flexed and unflexed her buttock muscles as his thin fingers kneaded them like bread dough, and at the same time pulled her thighs back a little more, causing the moist wet hole of her cunt to spread open even more in an effort to receive his mammoth prick to greater depths.
The pain had disappeared almost at the same time she had relaxed, to be replaced with a wild sexual abandon she could not control. Grace closed her eyes, slavering her tongue up into his mouth, feeling his tongue fencing with hers, feeling his teeth, the roof of his mouth savouring the faint taste of tobacco and whiskey in his throat. Moments before the cords in her neck and thighs were standing out hard and tense as she fought him; they still stood out, but now it was from ecstasy as she writhed beneath him in the fevered wantonness of her desire. There was no longer any thought in the world but the delicious sensation of lying beneath this race track bookie who was fucking her against her will; she wanted to give back to him the pleasure he was giving her. Abruptly, she lifted her knees and wrapped her legs around the man's heaving buttocks.
Andy slaved above her, deliberately changing techniques – riding high on her to scrape her clitoris, riding low on her until she felt the harsh slap of his balls against the nakedly exposed little crevice of her ass… thrusting inward with great force and leaving his prick buried to the hilt for a moment or two, all the while making it jump and jerk against the tip of her cervix – and then going into longer, smoother strokes that drew his cock nearly out of her clasping, steaming vagina on the backstroke before plunging forward into her uplifted buttocks again.
She felt him push his hand down between their two thrashing bodies to the point where his prick was sliding smoothly in and out of her fevered pussy, and then felt him begin to fondle the soft fur-lined cuntal lips milking at his all-powerful rampaging cock. He continued to finger pussy lips and clitoris until low lust-laden groans of animal desire gurgled out of her throat. Her widening vagina had accommodated his mammoth hardness, now it seemed to be trying to greedily devour the whole of his wonderful instrument… that hot, throbbing pole of lust-hardened flesh bringing her such sweet and unbelievable torment.
Andy grinned knowingly as he felt the first fevered twitching deep within the velvety clenching well of her cunt. The bitch may have looked frigid and cold as an iceberg when he first saw her but she was a hot little number now about to go out of her fucking mind at the reaming her heated little pussy was receiving from his hard driving cock.
Suddenly he, too, was losing restraint. The milking his prick was receiving from her twitching vaginal muscles was causing his usually ironclad control to weaken. He quickened his thrust, hot and pulsating and deep, and the resulting delight caused her to croon and babble incoherently. He put his hands under her knees, pushing them back hard and up until they were on both sides of her head, making the plane of her throbbing cunt wide open to the pile-driving, brutal thrusts he began throwing into her. It should have caused her to cry out – most women did. But instead of pleading for mercy, the crazy little bitch wanted more! He couldn't believe it!
"Oh… ohhhh… harder, more. More… deeper, fuck harder!" she began to intone beneath him, her face an unrecognizable masque of lewd desire and abandonment.
Again he quickened his thrusts, grinding hard and deep, his cock drilling high and hard up into the never-before touched hidden recesses of her womb. They both grunted and moaned deliriously, with Grace giving back everything she received.
"You are a hot little cunt," the bookie groaned and there was, for the first time, genuine admiration in his voice.
The lewd compliment, coupled with the exquisite feeling deep up in her belly, resulted in a message from loins to brain – a message she found hard to believe, but that magnificent pressure building inside her was not to be denied. This was it! Oh, God, she was coming closer, closer…
"Harder! Oh God… fuck harder. Oh… ohhhh," she wailed. "Give me… give… more! Fuck me, fuck me…" but her craven begging, which Andy had been waiting to hear, fell on deaf ears because the little jockey was so close to his own release that he heard nothing, saw nothing… felt everything.
Grace panted and writhed, hearing the hoarse gasping of the man atop of her breathing as though he had just about reached the tape in the two thousand metre run. His cock raged and hurtled into her, and nothing had ever felt so wonderful before. She tingled from the tips of her toes to the back of her head, and without any more notice, the tingle became a convulsion.
She gasped as it hit her, gasping, "Andy… I'm cumming. Oh, God. Beautiful… wonderful… I'm cummmming. Aiiiiieeeeeeeee." Even above the violence of her own orgasm as she bucked and jerked against him, she felt his cock grow even larger – ballooning in size – and then begin to pump hot, thick sperm deep up into her hungrily quivering belly. She locked her arms around his muscular little body, wanting this exquisite bliss to last forever.
Finally, her legs went limp and splayed out obscenely on either side of the jockey. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she took one deep sigh. Then, abruptly, the earlier wave of humiliation and shame came back to her, flooding her mind, as she recalled where she was and what had been done to her and who was lying atop her with his thick savage penis still buried deep inside her gently palpitating vagina. Tears began streaming down her cheeks. She lay there motionless, eyes closed, beaten as Andy slowly pulled out of her, his deflated prick slipping from her vagina with a lewd, wet, sucking noise. He stood, wobbling slightly.
The sight of the beautiful young wife being fucked into insensibility had caused Ricky to go almost out of his mind and, with his stubby little cock as erect as it had been earlier, he impatiently straddled the girl the moment Andy got up. He placed his two fat hairy knees on each side of her rib cage right under her armpits, his penis lying in the cleavage between her breasts.
Grace was too weary, too sated, to fight this new assault upon her body. She lay there, eyes closed, as Ricky pressed her warm soft breasts tight against his cock and began sawing back and forth. He worked for less than a minute before he suddenly grunted, and his prick began shooting out spurts of white, hot cum that splattered against her chin and face and throat, and clung like translucent elongated pearls in her disheveled raven black hair.
She stoically bore this latest indignity feeling neither revulsion nor hatred for the degradation, knowing with a sure certainty that this was only the beginning of a long and arduous ordeal. She was a prisoner of these two men, a prisoner just as surely as if she wore a striped uniform and was locked and chained in a dungeon. There was no place she could go where they would not find her, no one – not even the police to turn to for protection without being eventually betrayed. She knew now that her only salvation would be death or to become one of them, one of their whores. She could not begin to imagine what other vile depraved demands would be made of her. She knew only one thing – survival – and she would do anything they asked.
Andy had gone over to the bar where he watched, with considerable amusement, Ricky fuck the naked young woman's breasts. He knew how the evening would wind up, for Ricky did have a few peculiar hang-ups, like having the broad stand spread-legged over him and piss in his face. Well, everyone was entitled to get their kicks any way they could. His eyes narrowed as he slowly raised the double shot of bourbon and sipped it. Ricky was off the broad now and Andy could see the long, slender body of the woman in repose. He thought once again about the view he'd had of her when he first came into the room, of her being on hands and knees with that magnificent young ass waving high in the air behind her like a beautiful target with two bull's-eyes. He'd scored with one, that left an untouched bull's eye… her asshole! He glanced down at his prick and saw it slowly crawling to new life. Yeh, he thought with growing excitement, yeh! "Tiddle-de-dee – Tiddle-de-dum; lookout asshole, here we come," he mentally said, remembering the old limerick.
"Hey, boss," he called to Ricky, "you finished? Can I borrow the little snatch again?"
Grace did not catch the significance of the word "boss", and it did not dawn on her until much later that in reality Ricky had been calling the shots right from the beginning – that the person who would order her beating or enslavement or execution would be the fat man… not the little jockey.
Ricky beamed down at his cum slowly flowing down the chin and throat of the young, already well-fucked bride. Fucking her in between those soft, incredibly warm tits had been very exciting indeed, just as he had known it was going to be. She really was a splendid specimen – not only body-wise, but also in her earlier moral arrogance which had been broken so easily. After watching Andy screwing her silly, he knew just about everything he needed to know about her capabilities. She was going to make a good addition to his stable. He rated her excellent at the moment, but if she had a particularly strong bladder, he would unhesitatingly raise that rating to "Superior". He found himself growing excited at the thought of the treat in store for him, so much so that it took him a second to realize that Andy had spoken to him.
"What is it, my boy?" he asked, without taking his eyes off Grace's sperm spattered neck and chin.
"I wanted to know if you were through with the little bitch for a minute. I'd like to try it on again for size."
"Of course, of course," Ricky said. "That's why she's here. Go right ahead, but first…" He waddled across the room to the refrigerator behind the bar and pulled out two bottles of beer. He unscrewed the caps from both of them as he carried them back to the couch. "Here you are, my dear. Drink these."
Grace opened her eyes and saw the proffered bottle of beer. "No… thanks…" she said weakly, thinking it was an act of kindness on his part and not wanting to hurt his feelings. This idea was promptly shocked out of her mind when Ricky snarled viciously, "I said drink it, you bitch." Bewildered and frightened, Grace sat upright and accepted the bottle. She took a little sip.
"All of it," Ricky growled. "And be quick about it."
Grace drank it as rapidly as she could, then puzzled, reluctantly took the second bottle. When she finished that one, Ricky had come back with two more. She already felt bloated and didn't think her stomach could handle anymore. She looked beseechingly at the fat man, but his steely glare made her swallow the plea. She drank the third bottle and then, feeling as if she were about to burst with stomach churning, she finally managed to consume the contents of the last bottle. Ricky smiled at her as though she were an obedient child who has just eaten all the spinach. "That was splendid, my dear, simply splendid. Oh, I can hardly wait." He shivered in a little ecstasy of anticipation, his rolls of fat and girl-like breasts quivering like mounds of jello.
Grace had absolutely no idea of what he meant, but that wasn't what was bothering her at the moment for she had caught the mean speculative look on the thinly built bookie, Andy's, face. He obviously had something new and even more horrible that he wanted to do to her. That look, feral and evil, sent a chill down her spine.
Ricky turned to the jockey. "She's ready to be saddled and taken to the paddock, my boy. Ride her as though you were in the stretch making a run for the roses. She's an odds-on favorite."
Andy wasted no time in taking command of the terrified girl. "All right, cunt, over on your belly."
"Wha… what?" She didn't understand.
"Turn over on your belly. That tight little asshole of yours looks like it hasn't had too much action."
"Oh, splendid!" Ricky said, clapping his hands in glee. "Sodomize her, my boy. It will be most enjoyable viewing."
A new wave of horror and shame swept over Grace; it was so strong that her fright at the consequences of disobedience was shoved into the background of her consciousness. "Oh no," she wailed. "Please. You can't do that."
"Remember the photos, my dear," Ricky said, then laughed brutally at the sudden blanching of her face.
Before she could protest further or cry out, Grace felt her shoulders roughly seized by the little bookie and, with super-human strength that bellied his small stature, he simply lifted her bodily from the couch and threw her face down. A moment later he cruelly grasped her hips, lifted them, and shoved three pillows under her stomach which raised her white, trembling soft mounds of succulent flesh high in a sacrificial offering to the Gods of unnatural lust.
Grace at first couldn't believe what the two men were proposing. Surely they must be playing some game of torment with her, trying to terrify her even more. She had prepared herself for almost anything these two vile beasts would demand of her, she would give them anything, do anything, but this horrible suggestion was inhuman, unbelievable. Face down on the couch, feeling almost suffocated, Grace felt Andy's hands running over the warm, supple globes. She flinched and cringed and heard him laugh.
"Just look at that hairless little asshole, boss," Andy panted from behind. "I'm gonna love doing this."
Tears of shame built up in her eyes as she felt his hands opening her buttocks, drawing the alabaster cheeks wide apart. She tried to hold them flexed together, but the pressure of his thumbs inserted in the crevice was too great. They were pulled away from each other until she could feel the cool draft from the air conditioner rushing into the hot valley between her thighs. Abruptly, Grace knew these beasts were not merely tormenting her; they were serious! And with that knowledge she began to struggle. "Oh, no. You mustn't. It isn't right. Please…"
Andy and Ricky both laughed in sadistic delight, with the little jockey saying, "What do you mean, it isn't right. Why asshole fucking is a great sport. You ain't trying to tell me that you've never had it this way before… that you're a cherry back here?"
"Oh, God… please. Don't!" The last was a yelp of fright as she felt his blunt middle finger begin to press against the tight, elastic little opening of her anus.
"Shut up, bitch," Andy snarled. "I asked you a question. Answer it." He shoved his finger hard against the tiny puckered opening, and the fingertip and fingernail disappeared into the soft rubbery mouth. "Answer me!"
"No…" she whimpered.
"No what."
"My husband has never done that to me."
"Done what to you?"
"That."
"What's 'that' mean?" The remark was a vicious snarl, demanding elucidation.
"Oh, God. You know."
Andy's arm muscles tightened and his thin lips suddenly whitened. He jabbed the finger in deeper and was rewarded by her shriek of pain. "Tell the boss here and me what you haven't done before. I'm not going to ask you again."
"No one… has ever… made love…" she corrected herself immediately, knowing they wanted to hear the obscene phrase and too frightened to defy them any longer, "No one has ever fucked me before there."
Andy grinned over at Ricky. "In that case, bitch, your education has been sadly neglected."
Grace felt the tip of his finger worming around at the entrance of her naked rectum, and she clenched the puckered tiny lips tight in a futile effort to prevent the perverted penetration she knew was coming. Andy probed for a moment at the inner edges of her anal ring and then grinning cruelly, shoved forward sinking the finger all the way up to the first knuckle. Grace jumped from the resulting pain, but it was not as bad as she thought it would be. She had begun to relax when she felt a second finger probing her opening, than that one rammed in alongside the first.
"Ummmphh," she groaned, her face buried in the cushion, feeling the hurt this time. She jerked her hips forward into the pillows in an attempt to escape the painful entry.
Andy wig-wagged his fingers in the depths of her rectum, stretching it wider and wider and was rewarded by a muffled cry of pain and abject plea, "Oh, please… don't. That hurts. Please…"
She turned her head sideways facing the back of the couch so that he could see her protest. Tears of shame and pain and humiliation streamed down her cheeks again as she realized that the act was really going to take place. He was going to push that long hard thick penis all the way into her virginal rectum in a parody of love-making that she had never before dreamed existed. This, then, was the finale of her humiliation and defilement, apt punishment for her sins of the flesh committed earlier as a result of her own moral weaknesses. Her body would be punished and used in the most obscene and degrading ways imaginable. She would never live through it, and even if she survived she would never be able to face herself in the mirror again. She attempted once more to bury her hips deeper in the pillows, but it was useless for he merely planted the palm of his hand on the small of her back and pushed down tight as his fingers dug deeper into the nether depths of her back passage, expanding it mercilessly in preparation for the coming assault.
"She's ready as she's ever going to be," Andy said suddenly, then withdrew his fingers, the elastic ring of the anal flesh clinging to them in seeming reluctance to let them go. He used his knees to force her legs wider, then bent down and deposited a mouthful of spittle in the crevice between her cheeks.
Grace felt his hairy loins pressing against her buttocks and the hair of his legs brushing against the insides of her thighs. She was held wide and helpless, completely at his mercy. Then, for the first time, she felt the long, thick cock pressing itself into the moist naked split of her behind. She cried out in fright. It was too big. She could never take that in her rectum without being ripped apart. "Noooo… please. Oh, God… have mercy… don't."
Andy's hands roamed over her buttocks, then his thumbs were pressing on either side of the puckered little hole stretching it wide. Abruptly, she felt a probing between the thumbs as his cock began a slow relentless pressure at the forbidden opening.
"Jesus Christ," Andy groaned with something akin to surprise in his voice, "it's even tighter than I thought at first. Feels like a fucking baby's mouth!"
Grace screamed again and groaned piteously, but the sound went unheeded. There was no one here who would help her… no one in the whole world. All that existed now was the excruciating pain where that barbaric instrument had lodged itself unnaturally into an opening that simply could not accommodate it. There was to be no escape from the horrible degradation of this demented, perverted attack on her helpless body. She continued to groan incoherently as the straining bookie popped the heavy bloated head relentlessly inside and pushed in deeper, deeper, deeper. God, it even caused waves of pain in her stomach as the rigid thick prick pushed and ground against soft buttery flesh inside her wide-stretched anal passage. She was stretched as she had never been before, impaled on a burning railroad tie. And then, just as she thought the torture would never end, she felt his coarse pubic hairs smack into the softness of her upturned ass cheeks.
The cruel barbarian's fleshy sword was buried to the hilt. Grace groaned in anguish, pinned to the couch by the rock-hard gristle of his cock like a butterfly specimen on a display board. She felt the need to fart from the pressure, but such relief was denied her because the mammoth prick effectively acted as a cork in her asshole.
Andy, his eyes rolling around in his head with delight, began sawing rhythmically and without mercy deep into the warm rubbery depths of her rectum, evoking further cries of shame and pain from Grace's contorted lips. Soon, muttering obscenities and gasping with sadistic pleasure, he started to thrust the full length of his punishing rod into her with long smooth strokes. It pulled tiny ridges of her brown sucking flesh out with the base of his prick as it withdrew, then shoved the anal ring back in out of sight on the vicious inward lunge.
Grace's body jerked and quivered, convulsing each time an extra hard thrust seared into her tortured asshole. She could hear his animal grunts of delight and hated herself and her body for the joy it was giving the vile unspeakable beast. She wanted to destroy him, kill both men for their brutal unfeeling defilement of her self-respect, but she knew she was defenseless, helpless, impotent to do them any damage.
Andy was near ecstasy as he felt the warm clasping flesh enveloping his sensitive cock from trunk to tip. It was as though he were fucking into a warm velvety glove that squeezed his prick unmercifully. "Oh, you hot little bitch, you," he crooned behind her, "if you only knew how good your tight little asshole feels. Shit, if I could figure out how to bottle it, I'd make a million dollars overnight."
Ricky Karl's high pitched giggle showed that someone appreciated the remark.
Now all Grace wanted was to end this humiliation as soon as possible, to get it over with, completed. She prayed for the strength to please him as she began to grind the smoothly rounded cheeks of her buttocks back to meet each forward drive of his prick, rotating her hips in little impatient circles and deliberately tightening her anal ring on his outward stroke.
Andy felt the sudden cooperative movements of her buttocks beneath him and grinned knowingly over toward, Ricky, "She's getting with it now." He surged into her with renewed power, knowing she was trying to bring him pleasure. She was a fucking love slave, he thought, ready to do anything I want. There obviously was no resistance at all left in this innocent young bride impaled like a slave girl on his pile-driving cock.
Ricky was pleased, really pleased, with Grace's performance. Already he had formulated a use for her at tomorrow night's party. There was a young Cuban boy who was a real sex champion. He would match the boy and the Hope woman together on stage… and then, for a finale, Andy's dog would mount her and fuck the shit out of her. Tony Tratino, the big man in the national syndicate was due on the coast then… and he wanted to see that Tony had a good time. It would be, he thought in smug satisfaction, the last good time Tony ever experienced, for the Chicago hoodlum was on his way out – a victim of a power play which would put Ricky in the top national spot. He watched, smiling broadly, as he observed the brutal sodomizing of the girl. The way she was twisting her virginal little ass around made it appear as if she were beginning to enjoy it. He watched the continuous flexing and unflexing of her buttocks and the arching muscles of her back as she worked and ground back into Andy like a God-damned nympho getting her first cock after being stranded on a man-less island for six months. There was something almost artistic about the way her long black hair danced back and forth over her sweating face and around her neck and back as she squirmed lewdly in front of the rhythmically fucking little bookie. Her face rolled from side to side and Ricky could see it flushing red from her efforts.
Grace could feel the man's cock twitching and beginning to swell and, sensing he was nearing an orgasm, she began grunting and groaning with him, encouraging and pleading with the motions of her ass for him to end it and give her an enema of his hotly spewing sperm.
Andy simply went insane with the approach of his climax. The intolerable pressure was building up in his balls and her twitching, clenching asshole only increased the tingling torment. He began to ram rapidly into her, buffeting her helplessly quivering buttocks with his pelvis, his savage brutal strokes bringing new cries of pain and pleasure as he drove deeper and harder than ever before.
Then gasping incoherently and sputtering like a madman, Andy shoved forward with one last mighty thrust that seemed surely to rip through the walls of her heaving belly and began spewing his hot, thick cum in rushing torrents into the depth of her forcefully milking rectum. Grace, sobbing with relief now that the travesty was almost concluded, ground her buttocks around high in the air and pressed back against his powerful loins while his pent up sperm filled her soft anal passage to the bursting point with a warm, sticky wetness.
"Goddamn Sam," Andy said in wonderment, "that was the tightest asshole I think I've ever been in… and one of the best."
Grace was unable to staunch the tears that streamed down both sides of her face. She was no longer a virgin anywhere; almost every conceivable thing had been done to her, surely there was nothing left for them to do to her now. They had humiliated her in every way, taken everything from her and given back in return only a festering wound that would never heal no matter how long she lived. She was only vaguely aware that Andy's weight had lifted from her. She did feel his deflated penis pull out of her tortured rectum with a wet sucking noise. She felt the sperm draining from her forever stretched back passage, down the crevice to her still quivering cuntal lips before running onto the pillows.
Suddenly, something cold touched her bare shoulders. It was Ricky with another bottle of beer. "Sit up, my dear, and have a bit of refreshment." Weary, too despairing to do anything but obey, she sat as directed and took the bottle. "How do you feel?"
"Dirty!" The word was spat out automatically and she at once wished she could recall it.
Ricky, however, did not seem to mind her outburst. He obviously was on the trail of some other information. "I meant, are you feeling uncomfortable or anything." He glanced at the beer, "Drink that. And then tell me how you feel."
Grace downed the bottle, wondering what it was the fat man was after. When she finished the contents, she said: "You asked me how I feel… I feel sore."
Andy snorted, accepting it as a personal compliment, and obviously delighted at the predicament Ricky found himself in.
"You feel nothing else, my dear?"
Grace brushed the black hair out of her eyes with one weary gesture, staring at him like a puzzled dog being told to do a trick but not understanding what is expected of it.
It was Andy who spoke up, "He means do you feel like you have to take a piss? If you do, he wants you to squat over him and piss on him."
Ricky turned with a mock frown of disapproval on his face, "Now… now. We must not be crude."
Grace could not believe what she was hearing, but one look at Ricky's hot excited expression and at his eyes wide with anticipation, convinced her that once again she had underestimated the extent of the man's degeneracy. He was serious.
Before she could answer or say anything, the white telephone on Ricky's desk rang shrilly. The fat man jumped, seeming to shrivel, and Andy glanced furtively back and forth between boss and telephone. Grace actually heard Ricky swallow nervously as he waddled rapidly to the desk.
"Yes?" he said, then his composure abruptly left him when he heard the voice on the other end of the line. He began trembling, and the receiver shook against his ear. "All right," he said, then hung up.
His face was white when he looked over toward Andy. "That was Pete. Tony is on his way over."
"Oh, Jesus!" Now Andy seemed to be just as frightened as the fat man. Grace watched them both uncomprehendingly; they looked almost as terror stricken as she had been when she first saw the photographs.
"Where are the boys?" Ricky asked.
"I let 'em go as soon as the cunt started to cooperate with you."
"Get them back, quickly. I don't like Tony coming here like this. There's been a leak."
Both men jumped violently when the chimes sounded. "Don't answer it," Andy whimpered. His fright was contagious. Grace didn't know what was transpiring, but she wanted no part of it. Both men looked as if they feared for their lives. The chimes sounded again and Andy quickly began putting on his clothes. Ricky picked up his robe, but was trembling so badly that it took him several seconds to get his arms in the sleeves.
"What about the cunt?" Andy asked.
"Get your clothes and get into the bathroom. Don't come out until I tell you," Ricky said to her, his voice almost unrecognizable in its fear. Then he added, "And don't urinate. Save it."
Grace was near a state of panic as she quickly grabbed up her clothes and ran toward the indicated bedroom beyond which the bathroom lay. Panting, her heart pounding in new terror, she had just closed the bedroom door behind her when she heard Ricky's voice, sounding jovial, "Well, Tony. Do come in. What a pleasant surprise." She stood there, back to the door, trying to get her breath back to normal.
In the other room, the conversation became staccato, and she could hear the deep tones of another man's voice, saying, "You're small fry, Ricky. You shouldn't have tried to play marbles with the big boys."
"Tony… listen to me, Tony. Andy will tell you. It's all a mistake."
"Yeh… a mistake," Tony said. "A mistake for you and Andy."
Grace shrank back as she heard the shrill scream of pleading from Ricky, "No… Tony! Nooo… oooooo." The sound of two shots was like one explosion, and Grace's body jumped as though the slugs had hit her. Almost immediately two more shots were fired and there was a loud gasp then a thud.
Like a trapped animal, Grace glanced frantically around the bedroom seeking some avenue of escape. Oh, God. If she were found here, she would be executed too. On the side of the room, just past Ricky's round bed, a wardrobe closet door stood open. She ran for it, just as she heard Tony's voice say in the front room, "Take a look around, make sure the place is empty. Hurry."
She shoved clothes aside, jumped in and used her fingernails to close the door behind her, then huddled frightened and trembling in the dark interior expecting at any moment to have the door yanked open and the cruel face of her executioner smile in triumph at her. She tried to silence her breathing, then was sure that they must be able to hear the horrible pounding of her heart.
Footsteps entered the bedroom and she heard the bathroom door and shower stall door being opened. A moment later, although it seemed like an eternity, she heard another's man's voice say, "All clear, Tony."
The front door slammed.
She waited, sure that it was a trick to lure her out, but then heard the distant wailing of a siren. She mustn't be found here, the whole sordid story would come out. And if she were held as a witness by the police, there was a better than even chance that she would be silenced by members of the organization. Her only hope now was to get out and get out fast.
Jumping out of the wardrobe, she yanked her dress on over her head and, carrying shoes and undergarments, ran for the front room.
The sight that met her eyes almost caused her to faint. Ricky, still looking obscene in death, lay in a growing puddle of blood in the middle of his white rug, the whole side of his head blown away. Halfway to the front door where he had been gunned down, Andy stared lifelessly up at the ceiling.
She darted past them, feeling nothing but fright, and opened the front door. The penthouse corridor was empty. Outside, the siren was coming closer, too close. Above the elevator door, a light glowed to indicate the cage was on the way up. Frantically she glanced around, then bolted for the stairs.
Exactly one minute and thirty seconds later, she was walking past the pool carrying her shoes in her hands. No one paid attention to the windblown dark-haired girl; they all were too busy craning their necks and gawking at the two police cars that had just screeched to a halt in front of the complex.
No one would ever know the monumental self-control it took for Grace to continue her slow pace. She fought the normal desire to run and hide, fought her tears, fought the black wave of unconsciousness that threatened to inundate her at any moment.
She had, fortunately, left her apartment unlocked because she had no key and even if she'd had one her hands were trembling so violently that fitting key into lock would have been a physical impossibility.
She opened the door, closed it behind her, and carefully locked it. Then, swaying like a tall tree in a high wind, she fainted, falling unconscious in a soft heap on the floor.