The return to the dungeon was different this time. Gerault had thrust her clothes at her – minus the torn bra and panties – and told her to dress. There was no time to clean up. He let her stop just long enough to urinate in the bidet, then pulled her off and forced her down the hall to the stairs.
She could walk only with difficulty, and going down the steps was a painful ordeal. When she had been shackled in place, the Frenchman unlocked Tommy and shoved him toward the stairs. As the boy began the upward climb, Gerault leered at Fleming over his shoulder, and spoke as he followed Tommy on the stairs.
"Madame has been well-fucked for you, Monsieur – at front and back doors. Later we will bring her up and give her something to eat. A lot of meat and a little gravy!" He laughed maniacally as he disappeared through the stairwell, and the door closed in the middle of his mad gurgles.
"God! Ann, I'm so sorry for you. I'm such a dumb sonovabitch for getting us into this mess! If I could just get my hands on that sadistic bastard for ten seconds!"
"Don't, Chuck! It won't help to berate yourself. And don't feel so bad about me. After all, I'll heal up. We have to keep our minds occupied with planning and scheming. We don't have time for recriminations and worrying about individual problems. There's only the one problem – getting loose, somehow!"
"I know. You're right, Ann. If only Tommy can get that last lock picked, we'll stand a chance."
"Mother," Darla said, "it might help to know that you'll stop hurting sooner than you expect to."
"Darla! Do you mean that you were… that they…"
"Yes. Le Boeuf got me from the back, too. It hurt like anything, but it's not so bad now. Although it burns for a while, every time I… I mean… I think I'm going to eat awfully light for a few days, to ease any additional problems."
"You poor kid!" Fleming groaned. "These maniacs all ought to be killed. They're a menace to the whole damned world!"
"I wonder how poor Tommy's making it," Ann said.
Tommy wasn't making it as well as he might.
He was flat on his back on the sofa-bed, and Yvette's mouth was working on him. She'd started on his belly, worked her way juicily down to his thighs, then back up to his slowly responding genitals.
She's a filthy animal, but she sure knows how to stir a guy! That tongue of hers must be twice as long as normal, and it maneuvers about like an anteater's! He felt it swirl around the end of his organ and then seesaw across the tip like a fleshy file. Damn! That tickled and hurt at the same time.
Then she had the greater part of him in her mouth, and began to strip it in long strokes, sucking deeply each time she neared the tip. Oh, God! That crazy Bruce Bowers and his story about the milking machine! It couldn't hare been any worse than this! Nothing could be worse. I can't stand it! But there was worse to come!
Yvette pulled her dirty skirt up around her middle and swung her unbathed body onto the bed until her legs straddled Tommy's chest. She hadn't let go the captive flesh with her mouth for a second! Then she backed herself into position and shoved her hairy bush into Tommy's face. The smell was overpowering!
Was it only two days ago that he had found himself surprised by his enjoyment of the faintly pissy, musk like scent he'd discovered between his mother's legs? Somehow, he reasoned, that had seemed a healthy male reaction.
But nobody could be attracted by this! The red wetness suspended over his face was dripping with the girl's excitement, and the drops struck him on the nose and mouth. Then she lowered it on target! The wet heat of her flesh smothered him. He rolled his face away and spat at the wall.
Then his right hand was grabbed, and Gerault's glowing cigarette tip was pressed against his wrist! He yowled loudly before he could close his mouth. He hated showing his pain.
"You will cooperate with Yvette, or you will be a mass of blisters when we take you back downstairs!" the Frenchman promised.
Tommy wondered which he could stand the longest – the burning or the sickening flesh in his mouth. He tried to think clearly through the smarting pain on his wrist. He had to stay in condition so he'd be able to help with an escape. He'd have to force himself to do whatever they ordered – for now. But if he got half a chance, he'd make them pay for it!
The slimy flesh pressed again to his mouth, and he nibbled at it halfheartedly. She rotated her hips, making the wet meat move on his mouth. When the surprisingly long, hard bud of her passion had rubbed up against his lips, she held it there and wiggled to massage it against him.
"Lick it Tom-mee! Suck it for me!" the said, removing her own mouth from ham just long enough to get out the words. The initial shock of her odor and wetness at his face had softened his manhood, but now she was awakening it again. As it stiffened in her mouth, he tongued her and sucked at the small fleshling between his lips.
She was humming as he treated her, and the vibration of the sound seemed to act like a tiny electric massager as her humming lips encircled him. The rhythm of her oral movements became faster, and he tingled all over as she seemed to pull at his nerve centers.
He could tell that she was getting more excited, too. The juices flowed liberally from her large, open gap, and she was wiggling in the same fast tempo as she was using at the other end. Then she lifted her head to yell at him.
"Stick it in me! Put your tongue in me, deep! Quick!"
He reluctantly thrust his tongue into her sloppy passage, and it seemed to suck and swallow at him. Then he felt it go into her until his teeth were pressed roughly against the fleshy outer lips of her canyon, and she wriggled excitedly, frictioning snugly on his lower lip and chin.
Then he was spurting his soul out through his loins, and Yvette was pumping at him hungrily, sucking at his tip with each stroke, until he felt completely drained. But still she wouldn't stop. She pulled and sucked at him until he thought he'd go mad. When he could take it no longer, he risked another cigarette burn. He bit her as hard as he could on a fleshy, swollen lip of her womanhood.
She let go of him and rolled off, laughing with glee.
"I take more than you have to give, non? Even a healthy young man like you will have to have a rest before you can make enough to feed me again! But I am better than you. Even now I am ready for you to suck me so nice some more. Can he, Jean?" She turned to look at Gerault pleadingly.
"Later. Le Boeuf, take him down and bring up Papa."
"Just one minute, Jean. Please?" Before Tommy could get up, she rolled him over on his belly and parted his buttocks with her fingers. Then her tongue dug into his anus and wiggled hotly. It was a wild sensation! But the thought of what she was doing made him nauseous.
She probed and licked at him, washing the ring of his exit until he groaned with the unexpected ecstasy of it. Then she let him go, again laughing happily.
The Moroccan motioned at him, and he went back to the cellar, after slipping into his clothes.
"The blister on my wrist… do you hare to use the cuff? I can't go anywhere with the other three locked." Tommy's pulse beat swiftly as he awaited the Moroccan's reaction.
Then Le Boeuf nodded, slowly, as he locked only the three shackles. When Fleming was released, he winked surreptitiously at Tommy as he turned to precede Le Boeuf up the stairs.
As he was herded into the living room, which had remained the base of operations, for some reason – even though the light was not essential in the absence of the camera – Fleming saw the gleaming eyes of Yvette boring into him.
As he started to strip on Gerault's command, the girl peeled off her dirty skirt and blouse. For the first time, he saw that she was really a pretty girl with a terrific figure.
But when she threw her naked body on him, the brief admiration was dissolved by the scent of her unwashed skin. She forced a hard breast against his mouth, cupping the globe with one hand as she tried to maneuver the nipple tip between his lips.
"Tom-mee, he suck me good! You 'ave more experience, nor?"
The revulsion rose up in his throat, and he swallowed, hard. But his lips did not open. Gerault's cigarette tip against his left buttock made them open as he gasped, but his teeth were clamped together in agony. Nevertheless, Yvette had wig gled the rising tip of her nipple between his lips, and was cooing in his ear.
"Chew eet for me, gently. Make eet hurt a leetle for me, non?"
Having earned his battle scar, Fleming slowly obeyed. He wanted to make this last as long as he could stand it, to give Tommy as much time as possible to get free. But if he got too many of those burns especially if any of them were in the wrong places and serious enough, it might hamper him in aiding the boy when the time came.
He nibbled with his teeth at the dark, spongy flesh, and Yvette moaned as he chewed. Then she made him switch to the other breast, and he gnawed at its springy peak until she was gasping. Her body slithered over him, and she grasped his wand and began to stroke it.
When it filled her hand stiffly, she arched her back and scooped her hips downward. Her hot, dripping maw gulped at him and began to engulf him within her. Her passage was like a throat, and he could feel it swallowing him. The folds of her lining were like grasping hands, pulling at him, sucking him in.
Good Lord! What a machine! She must have been fucked by millions to get that kind of muscle development! And she's probably had all the diseases there are in the books – maybe still has them! But she sure has an educated cunt! It's milking me like I was a cow's teat!
As she moved her hips above him, squeezing his rigidity with her practiced muscles, she covered his mouth with hers. He got a quick blast of her garlic breath, then her hot tongue was plunging into his mouth. She sucked at his lips and probed with her tongue until the expertness of her treatment broke him down despite his distaste.
She vacuumed his tongue up into her mouth and sucked at it as her hips rotated and her buttocks rose and fell above him, pulling and swallowing at his manhood.
Raped, by damn! I'm actually being raped. After all the times I've joked about it, I'm being fucked against my will! Fucked? Hell, I've been fucked by what I thought was the greatest. I'm being milked and that's all you can call it. Her cunt must be a living lake. The juice is all over me!
She worked at him faster as her own excitement built. Then she turned into a fiery tornado. His stretching flesh was caught in the vortex of the sexual cyclone, and it felt as if it were being pulled out by the roots! She was sucking his tongue deep into her mouth as she pressed tightly against him and shuddered. Her whole body shook with her tremors, and something deep in her passage wrapped an iron hand around the tip of his wand and squeezed at it.
He spurted hotly into her in spasms, and they were shuddering together for several long seconds.
Yvette's weight lifted from him, and he rolled to the edge of the bed to get up.
"Wait! We are not through," Gerault said. "Yvette, lie down on the bed. We are going to have a special soixante-neaf party." The girl stretched out, this time with her feet at Fleming's head.
"Okay, Monsieur. Now you get the pleasure of eating Yvette's very hot pussy. Climb over her and get started!"
"Hell, make her take a douche, first, at least!" demanded Fleming.
"You are in no position to dictate terms," replied Gerault. His tone was deadly, and so was the look in his eyes. He was moving toward Fleming, and blowing on his cigarette as he approached.
"You're all crazy! Filthy, crazy-mad animals!" Fleming muttered. But he climbed aboard just in time to avoid the cigarette's kiss of fire. So he thought. But as he positioned himself over the dirty brunette, he felt its fire boring into his thigh in back.
"There will be no more angry words from you, Monsieur. Or you will go back to the cellar looking as if you had the plague. Do you have any idea how many places I can burn you with one cigarette?"
Fleming was boiling, and the blister rising on his thigh was a constant agony. He steeled himself to what was coming, then tried to hold his breath as he dove into her wet, hairy canyon with his lips. Her head was hanging over the edge of the bed, so he had to stand his toes on the floor and lean his thighs against the edge to poise over her in the proper place. She spread herself wide for him, and the first breath he had to take was pungent. But he had to admit that a large portion of the odor comprised the smell of his own semen, which had flowed heavily into her, and was dripping at her fleshy opening in whitish strings.
It's not bad enough to have to suck ok this filthy cant! I have to eat my own come. Makes me a second-hand cock sucker. If I just get my hands on these swine, I'll make them sorry they were born!
Suddenly he was shocked at the slimy, wet feel of something in the crack between his buttocks. A hand had slipped into the crease and deposited something greasy there. Now what? Did this dirty whore park her chewing gum in my asshole?
But he found out all too soon that Yvette was blameless. Hands separated his stern cheeks, and something hard pressed at his anus.
"Give it to him, Le Boeuf!" Gerault shouted, and Fleming felt the muscle tissue around his tightened ring stretch as the hardness pressed at the greased, puckered flesh. Then he swelled inside as the fullness entered him.
Bastards! Dirty, filthy animals! They haven't done enough to me already – now I get fucked in the ass to boot! He was so mad that he bit Yvette's swollen entrance, and she wailed her surprise. Fleming expected another blister, and tensed him self for it. But he got his punishment in another way. Yvette wrapped her arms around his waist and took the head of his penis in her mouth.
She bit on it, and he gasped in pain. Then she started to lick it, and in seconds he had another stiff problem. The pain of the bite increased when he swelled up, and it throbbed like a toothache. She worried it with her tongue and lips as he started to carry out his orders again.
He lapped his tongue in the flowing fountain of her red flesh, and she thrust up her hips to meet him, smearing her juices and the leftover semen on his lips, chin and face. He abandoned all hope of avoiding disease, and determined to get it over with. He licked at her erect passion bud until she writhed under him with ecstasy, sucking hard on him as she moaned around the mouthful of his flesh.
The Moroccan was plunging into his bowels up to the hilt, and each stroke ended with a smack as the huge balls slapped against Fleming's crotch. Each thrust forced his own organ hard against Yvette's mouth and throat, but she seemed to take it without too much discomfort. At least, her attentions to him did not slow down.
Then Le Boeuf let loose his loins, and the warmth being discharged in Fleming's bowels triggered his lust. He sucked and lapped at the meat below him, then sunk his tongue deep into her passage.
Yvette moaned heavily around her mouthful of flesh as she began to shudder out her finale. Then Fleming was turned on, and his flow pumped into her mouth and throat. He could feel her swallowing, as the head of his tool touched the back of her throat. It coaxed an additional flow from him, and he felt drained.
And then she sucked at him still more, drawing his guts right out through the tip. It felt like he was dying. As she sucked a last, long string out of him, the Moroccan pulled his limp member from Fleming's rectum.
The combined feeling was like genuine death from fatigue. Fleming fell over on the bed and lay there. He couldn't move a muscle. If his life depended on it, he couldn't have gotten up by himself.
Gerault's laughter was filling the room, as he reveled in the ultimate revilement of this American millionaire who had refused to meet ransom demands.
"Wait!" he yelled at Le Boeuf, who was leaving the room. "Don't go yet. We are going to get the camera for the next step. I am going to have a picture of this rich American sucking your big black Moroccan cock!"
"Jean!" Le Boeuf was even shocked, now. "Let me wash it off."
"No! To use his own native phrase, I have taken enough shit off this man. Now I will see him take a little of his own shit off you. And get my prize picture at the same time. Yvette, get the camera."
"Yvette is not going to move," said Tommy from the doorway, as he calmly took aim and shot Gerault in the kneecap.