by Sean O'Kane
"Oh Christ!" she murmured. "Oh yes!" She could feel her vagina clench and exude another flood of juice at the prospect of this monster stretching her labia and spearing up into her.
But suddenly his hand was clenched hard in her hair and her head was wrenched back so that she had to stare up into his eyes. His face was set and stern. She felt an iron hardness in his nature beneath the casual, humorous self-confidence of the exterior. Tara thrilled with apprehension at the thought of being alone with this extraordinary man.
"Now we shag till one of us can't go on. Right Tara?" he whispered fiercely. Again she felt as if she was stepping into a void and joyfully abandoned herself.
"Yes, till one of us begs for mercy," she whispered back.
They didn't make love. Not one kiss was exchanged that Tara could ever remember. It was simply her body versus his. The resilience of her vagina against the ferocity of his cock, the strength of her sex-drive against his endurance.
Their first coupling, with him standing and she riding his shaft - legs wrapped tight around his hips, resulted in an earth-shattering, blinding orgasm for her as she let her weight grind her down onto the most divine penis her body had ever played host to. But he didn't come, and when she had finished writhing and moaning he lifted her off and threw her hard down onto the bed, on her back. Then he lowered his powerful body down onto her and she relished his weight, crushing her, pinning her down as he penetrated her contracted vagina. She groaned at the deliciously remorseless way his shaft lanced and stretched her, inch by inch. She was bucking her hips up at him urgently even before he was fully in, her nails raking his back, greedy for another orgasm of the sort she had always dreamed about but had never achieved before this night.
And when his hard, pelvis-slapping thrusts began to batter her, she clenched every internal muscle she could, determined to milk those huge balls this time. Again and again he rammed her, shaking her like a rag doll but she clung onto him inside and when the world exploded in her head and she heard herself screaming in ecstasy, she was rewarded with the feel of his hot jets of sperm flooding the very neck of her womb.
But that was just the first skirmish in a war of attrition.
For a while they lay and savoured their own pleasure, then Tara let her hand begin to stray down over Connor's powerful chest, down across the muscular stomach until it found the wiry pubic hair and the slick, flaccid tube of the penis. She cupped the loosely hanging balls and juggled them gently, then stroked the penis itself. It stirred under her fingers and began to throb back into erection, hardening and growing until it forced apart her circled forefinger and thumb. This was the cock of her dreams and she wasn't going to waste a second of this night. She swung her leg over and straddled Conor, holding her own labia open with one hand, she gripped his wonderfully stiff cock with the other and fed it into her. Slowly she let herself slide down and down, loving the way she could feel her vaginal tunnel easing open once again, welcoming the shaft that was filling it. She let her breath out in an 'Oof!' when it finally reached full penetration. Again they drove each other to climaxes, Conor's hands mauling her breasts, pulling hard at her nipples, making her gasp and bounce even harder on him even while she leaned her full weight into those same hands and let him do as he pleased. She had never been played with so roughly, but couldn't pretend that she didn't like the way the stabs of pain from her nipples, standing out like dark red bullets, mingled with the breathtaking onrush of her third orgasm which exploded inside her as she felt yet more of his hot spend spurt up into her.
Time and again he throbbed back into erection until Tara lost count of the penetrations and orgasms. Once, in a sexual frenzy the like of which she had never experienced before, she licked him back into life. She took a deep and perverse pleasure in tasting her own juices on her tongue, as well as the salty flavour of his spend. She had never licked a man before.
But at last, as grey light was beginning to filter through the curtains she gave in. Her vagina burned and stung unbearably, her breasts felt bruised and they ached from the manhandling and constant arousal. She groaned when Conor heaved himself onto her once more and she felt the dome of his helm begin to push up into her semen-flooded and contracted tunnel.
"No!" she pleaded. "Please no more!"
"Mercy?"
"Yes, mercy, please!"
Almost casually he flicked her over onto her face and shoved her knees up under her torso, so that her bottom stuck up in the air facing him. Suddenly she realised that though her devastated sex might be spared her anus wasn't going to be. Never, never had she contemplated allowing a man into that passage, or even imagined a man wanting to enter her there.
"No! Please not there!" she cried out. "Aah! No!"
But two fingers had been wiped up the groove of her sex, to collect some of the spend and juice which was coating it and then thrust brutally into her opening, levering the tight muscles apart. Then as she gritted her teeth in anticipation of the pain to come, she felt the blunt head of his enormous cock push into her. It was well lubricated by repeated ejaculations and her own vagina's passionate response but even so it slid in with exquisite pain. Conor's free hand gripped the back of her neck and pushed her face down into the bedding to stop her escaping, and that muffled her screams of disgust and pain as she felt herself prised wider and wider open. She was sure she would tear and was sobbing in despair when at last the head was in and there was a slight lessening of pressure as her muscles clamped shut around the shaft. Desperately she tried to relax to save herself further pain but was distracted by the alien feeling of her bowels wanting to empty even as they were being filled - and then filled some more. On and on he drove, remorselessly spearing up into the tight tender tissue, squeezing sperm out of her sex as he compressed it from behind. At last Tara felt his pelvis against her buttocks and knew that she was fully impaled on him.
"There's always got to be a penalty for losing Tara, " he told her, his voice soft, almost sympathetic above her back. "Or where's the fun in winning? Remember that."
And then she felt his hands brace themselves on her hips. She grabbed a fistful of sheet and stuffed it into her mouth to bite on just as he began to shaft her. She screamed on every thrust and whimpered at each withdrawal, feeling as though her entrails were being ripped from her at one moment and then pushed up into her stomach at others. And all the time the strange compression of her vaginal channel, the membranes still super-sensitised, worked an insidious spell on her and pain and pleasure began to mingle in ways she had never imagined they could. She didn't have a physical orgasm when at last he jetted his final spurts of hot sperm into her, but it was almost a mental one. In the mists of her exhausted brain the thought formed that this was somehow right.
She had fought to the end of her strength and been beaten at last - it was right therefore that her conqueror should take whatever pleasure he chose with her. And as he jerked in the throes of his climax she almost welcomed his eruption in her most secret of places, he had taken his prize.
For once she had tried sex at the very edge - and had loved it.
Even though he was softening as he withdrew, the last moments made Tara gasp as for a second she felt the cool air of the room on her rectal lining before her sphincter closed. Then at last she was able to slump down and get her hands down between her legs to cradle her plundered entrances and feel the cooling sperm leaking from them. She felt almost demented with lust and a strange desire to abase herself before this man who had beaten her.
Wordlessly she twisted round and slowly let her tongue trail down his chest and stomach until it encountered the matted pubic hair. Her heart pounded with excitement and horror at what she was about to do. She moved down further and at last encountered the slick and soft cock which had so completely laid her waste. Knowing full well where it had been, her anus still stinging and throbbing, she took it deep into her mouth and licked it clean, carefully and respectfully. It was only right, she had always been proud of her body, its stre
ngth and fitness, but she had been bested, defeated for the first time in her life.
Her mouth full of the mingled tastes of both their bodies, she made her way back up until she lay beside him, she was rewarded by one heavy arm rested over her shoulders and then, strangely content she let the dark close over her.
Chapter 3
When she awoke she was alone. She lifted her head and swept the tangled mane of blonde hair from her eyes, then surveyed the wrecked bed. She smiled lazily as she recalled the events of the night before, rolled over onto her back and stretched luxuriously, feeling the encrusted sperm on her inner thighs tightening the skin before it split and revelling in the residual burning sensations deep in her sex and anus.
"Tara, you are one well fucked woman," she told herself delightedly. Now where was Conor, that gorgeous randy bastard?
She sat up and looked round. There was no sound from the bathroom, so he must have showered and gone down to breakfast without waking her she decided.
It was only when she came back from the shower herself, naked and refreshed that she realised that not only had Conor's clothes gone but also her own. For some time she could only stare stupidly about the room but then panic set in. She flung open wardrobes and drawers but there was nothing. Even the small handbag she had brought seemed to have gone. Her heart thundering she stood in the middle of the room and turned round and round wildly. What the hell was going on?
She was so badly frightened that when someone knocked on the door she instantly told them to come in. It had to be Conor she told herself, relief and fury surging through her so strongly that she forgot she was stark naked.
The two flunkeys she had glimpsed in the hall the previous night entered. Immediately she became aware of her nudity and grabbed for a towel off the bed to cover herself. They closed the door behind them and advanced into the room. They were out of uniform now and dressed in T shirts and dark slacks. Tara registered that they were both fairly large men and they were leering at her in a way that made her even more acutely aware of her nakedness. She clutched more desperately at the towel and backed away from them.
"Who are you?" she demanded, trying to steady her voice. "What do you want?"
One of the men laughed at that.
"We're what you might call Room Service," the other said. "Mr. Brien said you hadn't any money to pay your share of the bill, but that you'd be happy to pay in kind."
Tara gaped at him, scarcely able to believe Conor's treachery. He'd set her up and left her there to be gang banged by these two.
One of them had moved to her right and was removing his shirt. By now she had backed up until she was standing behind the bed. One man had remained in front of it and was between her and the door. She glanced round quickly, the other man was just getting his shirt off, she had to make a move now or never. She leaped onto the bed and slung the towel over the one who was still encumbered with his shirt. The man by the door lunged for her but she twisted sideways and brought her fist down on the back of his head. He cried out and pitched face first onto the mattress. She leaped over him, wrenched the door open and ran for it.
The corridor outside was deserted, frantically she tried the doors to some of the other rooms but they were all locked. There was only one thing to do; naked or not she would just have to run for help. She ran down the stairs into the hall, there had to be someone around surely? But again the house seemed deserted. There was no one at Reception. Above and behind her she could hear the sounds of feet pounding along the corridor and men's voices swearing. They were coming for her.
She swung round and headed for the front door, threw it open and leaped down the stairs onto the tarmac of the car park. That too was empty, but ahead of her there was a broad stretch of immaculately tended lawn with woods beyond. And that way, she remembered was the direction in which lay the road.....and help. Tara set off, stretching her long legs and concentrating on setting a fast but sustainable pace. Behind her she heard the men's shoes on the stone steps.
She ran, ignoring the harsh tarmac under her bare feet, heading for the huge sweep of lawn and the possibility of help at its far end. Her arms and legs pumped and her hair flew about her face. Slowly her panic subsided and gave way to a steely determination.
Somehow, sooner or later, she would settle with Conor, but for now if these two goons behind her wanted what was between her pounding legs, they were damn well going to have to fight for it. As she ran on naked, her breasts swung and bounced irritatingly and increasingly painfully, her upper arms sometimes catching them and sending their weight swinging back across her chest to collide fleshily with each other and upset her balance.
She noted that the sounds of pursuit had faded and risked a glance over one shoulder. The men had reached the grass which was muffling their footsteps, but they were still after her. They were at least as fit as she was and were running powerfully, closing on her. Tara gritted her teeth and accelerated towards the woods. She was only yards short when her thighs were suddenly hit hard from behind and pinioned. She gave a breathless scream of despair as she was pitched forward onto the grass and slid for a few yards under her own momentum and that of the man who had rugby tackled her so expertly.
What followed was a blur as she fought under the weight of both men. In grim silence she twisted and bucked, scratching and kicking as best she could while they slowly got her under control. The smell of their sweat filled her nostrils and their clothes rasped against her nakedness, while her back was ground down onto the wet grass. It was a fight she couldn't win but as it went on she realised that she didn't care. She was relishing the fight itself, the struggling of body against body, flesh against flesh; and the fact that she knew exactly what these men intended once they had overpowered her only served to increase the thrill of the battle. As she writhed and arched under the men she was aware of what was happening between her legs, her labia were sliding slickly together as her clenching thighs twisted. In less than a day she had gone from a world where she despised men for their cowardice where her body was concerned to one where the men took their women with complete arrogance and did as they pleased with them. Images of the thrashings she had seen the night before flashed through her mind, strangely confused with memories of Conor reaming her out tirelessly, screwing her into utter submission.
At last the men held her and she could fight no more. One held her wrists above her head while the other pinned her lower body with his weight, one hand grasping her right breast and squeezing hard. She no longer struggled but still her hips heaved under the man. The change from struggle to urgency was so seamless that even the men hardly noticed. All three of them were panting and gasping, Tara's breasts heaved and the man's fingers dug deeper into the right one as he pulled himself properly onto her and fumbled with his fly, using his free hand. The pain and the pounding of the blood in her hard, swollen nipples didn't bother her, somehow it belonged to this bizarre situation......just like the previous night when she had abased herself in front of Conor, she had fought all she could and for the second time she had been beaten.
An involuntary moan escaped her as she felt the hard warmth of the man's erect sex brush against the softness of her sex lips. And she couldn't pretend that there wasn't an element of excitement in the way she lifted her hips towards him, inviting him. She groaned helplessly as she felt the blunt head of his shaft drive into the labial cleft and part the lips with a moist suction. But her conqueror this time paused, with his helm just inside her entrance, keeping her squirming under him while her vaginal muscles fluttered and spasmed within her. He looked up at his companion and smiled.
"Christ! Brien knows how to pick'em. They scrap like polecats and it turns them on!"
At the mention of Conor, all Tara's fight came back, she cried out and bucked furiously under the man but it was too late. With a cowboy's whoop of joy he rode her easily and rammed himself in to the hilt before settling his full weight onto her. She tried to spit defiance at him and vent her fury at Cono
r but her cry faded into a long groan as she felt his shaft penetrate her to the core, spearing up into her channel whose soft walls clung to him wetly and eased his way into her.
Her contortions were indistinguishable from the most passionate of love making and Tara herself finally gave up trying to separate fury from excitement and went with the flow. So athletic were her writhings that the man hardly had to thrust at all, just ride her to an orgasm which brought her to a shuddering, back-arching peak of confused, panting ecstasy as his jets of sperm flooded her. Her cry matched his as they climaxed together and then she gasped as he withdrew with brutal suddenness, leaving her aching and empty, her vulva still twitching and clenching with the aftershocks of orgasm.
Her wrists were still held in the iron grip of the second man and she fully expected him to claim his prize immediately. But it was not to be.
"Turn her over," he told his companion who had stood up and refastened his trousers, "then come here and hold her wrists. I still owe the bitch for that clout she gave me in the room."
She was still too dazed to offer much resistance but once they had her face down the men changed positions carefully so as not to offer her any chance of escape. And this time Tara found her forearms being knelt on, she raised her head and shook her hair clear of her eyes only to find that her face was inches from the groin of the man who had just taken her. He knelt with his knees splayed over her arms and she noticed that within the confines of his trousers his sex was beginning to rise and stiffen again. She could smell his recent discharge and it gave her a jolt in her still-contracting vagina to think that she was about to get another load.