by Paul Blades
Nick seized the other breast with his lips and his hand descended to the brown bush between the woman’s thighs. I could see her press her long tapered thighs together firmly to prevent his access to her furrow, but with her legs in the air, she had little purchase. Nick forced his hand between the woman’s legs and grabbed the fur covered nether lips, pinching them tightly until the woman screamed from behind her closed mouth. I could see the muscles on Nick’s arms flex as he pressed the woman’s labia tighter and tighter. He pulled his head back, smiling, amusement clear on his face as he watched her agonized reaction to his assault.
Two of Nick’s men dragged the woozy doctor to a spot ten feet or so in front of the woman. One of them grabbed his hair and forced his head back so that he could watch. He seemed to come alive as he knelt there and observed his stripped and abused mate before him. He tried to struggle to his feet, but the large black man who was holding his hair in his hand chopped him in the kidney with his other hand, causing the doctor to moan with pain.
Nick’s strategy was clear. Whoever these people were who worked at the research station, they were being given an unmistakable lesson in the powerlessness of their white employers. Wherever they would go from here, they would know that if they dared to challenge the authority of their government or the men who were allowed to exploit them, men could emerge suddenly from the jungle and exact swift, merciless retribution.
Nick, satisfied at the demonstration he had made, freed his hand from the woman’s loins and stepped back. He had placed the switch he had carved on the ground and he leaned over and picked it up. He swished it through the air several times. A wailing came up from the cowering crowd of people. Nick turned to them and shouted out a command and the kneeling natives were cowed into silence. All eyes were on Nick and the woman. I could see Nick’s men smiling their lustful anticipation. The white girls were moaning and crying. The doctor knelt glum faced and passive, powerless to prevent the upcoming torture.
Rearing his strong right hand back, Nick brought the switch forwards, landing a lash across the tops of the woman’s thighs. She screamed loudly from behind her taped mouth as her body reacted to the blow. Her torso squirmed and she tried futilely to bring up her legs to protect herself. An angry red line appeared across her frantically twisting thighs. Nick brought the switch back again and then forwards, this time landing his blow across the woman’s belly. She screamed again as a trail of red emerged.
The third blow fell directly across her upturned breasts, bringing a howl from her. The crowd moaned in sympathy. I looked over at the two young girls kneeling in the dust and I could see a wet stain emerge on the front of the blond one’s jeans. She had pissed herself from fear. She was trembling and crying. The redhead’s face expressed her outrage. She tried to struggle to her feet, but a large black hand pressed down on her shoulder, keeping her on her knees. The black assistant’s eyes were narrowed and steamed with hatred.
Altogether, Nick gave the brown haired woman seven blows from the switch. She continued to emit muffled howls and screams as the blows fell, her body now crisscrossed with trails of bright red lines. At Nick’s signal, the men holding the pole exchanged positions, turning the sobbing, unhappy woman around until her back faced us. Seven more blows tore at her flesh, from the top of her back down to the back of her shins. She continued to scream adn moan, her body contorting wildly as she absorbed the cruel punishment. When the last blow landed, the men turned the woman around again. Perhaps she thought that her torment was over, but it had just begun.
Once the woman was turned back to face us, Nick leaned down and freed her left ankle from the manacles. He untied the thong that had held her legs outstretched and pulled the woman’s long, red lined right leg upwards. He connected the manacle to the pole, pulling her leg out widely. He produced another manacle from his satchel and made to attach it to her left leg. The woman tried to avoid his grasp by flailing her leg around, but it was a simple matter to catch it and affix the steel around her ankle. That ankle was clamped around the pole, drawing her left leg out.
The woman now hung there like some strange but delectable fruit, and her widespread legs exposed her moss covered slit to Nick’s depredations. He ran his hands over the insides of her pale thighs. She was swinging in the air, desperately trying to bring her outstretched legs back together. Nick took both of his hands and seized the woman’s sex, pursing her nether lips tightly, drawing a loud moan from her taped mouth. He drew his thumbs over her distended labia, up and down appreciatively.
Despite her covered lips, the woman’s frantic gasps and screams filled the air. While Nick freed his manhood from his camouflaged fatigues, the men holding the pole lowered the woman’s torso so that it was at the proper level for penetration. Nick’s manhood was stiff, as I am ashamed to say was mine, as I watched him draw the head of his thick, black cock along the narrow slit between the woman’s nether lips. He placed his right hand on her lower belly and worked his thick thumb over her hooded clit, encouraging her to wetness. When satisfied, he pushed his broad hips forward and his thick black cock began to sink into the unfortunate woman’s womb.
Nick took his time, pushing his cock slowly into the woman’s fur covered sex. Her hips shook and contorted as she tried to expel him. Her long brown hair flared around her head as she rocked it back and forth in agonized protest. But all who looked on knew that her efforts would be unavailing. I shifted my rifle to my left hand while my right almost unconsciously began to stroke my rock hard member. Nick’s men all gave out swarthy grins, shouting encouragement to their boss. The doctor, kneeling in the dust helplessly, screamed a muted protest. The two girls moaned and squirmed on their knees, their hair held firmly in the hands of the black soldier-like men behind them.
Once Nick had sunk his meat fully to the hilt inside the dangling brown haired woman, he let out a sigh of pleasure. His head tilted backwards and his eyes closed to slits as he began to pump his meat between the woman’s distended, engorged labia. At first, his pace was leisurely, as if he were reveling in the woman’s tight wet warmth around his cock. But his pace slowly quickened, until, with a wide, toothy grin on his face, he began to pump his hips furiously at the woman’s cunt. Her diminutive breasts shuddered and danced as her body took the force of the black Englishman’s thrusts. Her moans became staccato as her voice recorded each powerful meeting of her thighs with Nick’s strong hips. Nick had his hands firmly grasped around the woman’s upwards pointing thighs as he pulled her body towards him on each forward thrust. Finally, his back arched, he groaned, and jammed the woman’s cunt onto his cock, seeking to pierce her innards, as he jetted his cum deep inside her.
Once he had spent himself inside the sobbing woman, Nick withdrew his now flaccid tool from her and turned to his audience. His wet dick still hanging limply from his pants, he harangued them in loud, strident terms. Three of the guards lifted their rifles into the air and fired long, angry bursts. The small crowd of men and women rose as one to their feet and began to frantically run away. I fully expected Nick’s men to begin gunning them down, but they were allowed to run unhindered. Within a few moments, we and the remaining captives were alone in the dusty courtyard.
Nick turned to me and smiled as he placed his piece back into its chamber. “Well, Harry, what do you think?” he said to me.
“Why’d you let them go?” I asked. I was happy that he had; even depraved as I was becoming, murdering a mass of defenseless men and women was not high up on my list of things I wanted to do before I died.
“They have been warned,” Nick answered me. “As far as they know, they came to work today and the white people were gone. They will spread the word among their fellow villagers and then from village to village that no one who opposes the government is safe. The white people cannot protect themselves, never mind poor African people. If I had killed them, there would be a huge massacre to investigate. Now there will be only the mysterious disappearance of the unfortunate Dr. Svenberg and his st
aff.”
The blond girl who was kneeling in the dirt next to me broke out in another fit of disconsolate wailing when she heard Nick’s pronouncement of her fate. When she had seen the native people released, she must have had a moment of hope that she would be permitted to join them. She undoubtedly now believed that soon she would be facing her untimely death, to be buried in some forsaken African field after, of course, satisfying the ruthless sexual demands of her captors. But I knew better. She and her auburn haired companion were deliciously desirable young women. I knew where they were going.
Nick ordered me to go into the main hut and seize the computer hard drive and any paperwork that looked like it might be important. There were two computers and a laptop and I gathered the CPUs and the laptop together. There were mounds of paperwork which I shoved into a large plastic bag.
When I emerged from the hut, the women and Dr. Svenberg had been loaded onto the trucks. The woman who had been abused was still naked, her wrists now confined behind her, a black hood pulled over her head. Hoods covered the heads of the two young girls and Dr. Svenberg. The girls had been placed in the back of the Land Rover that I had come in and Dr. Svenberg and his woman in the other. The lone occupant of the dusty courtyard was the skinny, bespectacled, black laboratory assistant.
Nick stepped over to the young African and ripped off the tape that had been covering his mouth. He pulled his pistol from its holster and placed it against his forehead. The man was just about to speak when a single shot rang out and he jerked backwards and then fell to his side. Nick released the cuffs and manacles that had confined his wrists and ankles and after gathering them up, hopped into the lead Land Rover and signaled that it was time to go.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE PARTY
Roxanne’s mind swam as the thick cock of the bandleader filled her hungry mouth. It was, after all, unbelievable that she should be servicing the cock of the great Max Jammer. Never in her wildest dreams! This was paradise and justified any problems it might cause.
She could feel the drumming of the sleek, fancy limousine’s tires on the roads through the floorboards on her knees. Her hips and arms bumped against her companions as they pleasured the other band members.
When Max’s cock began to throb and jerk in her mouth, she readied herself for his hot cum. She was debating in her mind whether she should swallow it when she felt a spurt against the back of her throat. Quickly, her mouth filled with the rock idol’s copious discharge. She had tasted come before, but she was startled at the volume of the jetting hot substance. She tried to pull her head back, but Max had a firm grip on her hair and, when he sensed her reticence at receiving the full force of his spurting spewm, held her face firmly to his loins.
Roxanne coughed and sputtered as she fought for release. She pounded her hands on the man’s leather covered thighs. “Come on, honey, take it all!” Max shouted over the blaring music. “Take my spunk, you bitch!”
Daphne and Miriam were oblivious to Roxanne’s discomfort. They were both entranced by the music, the alcohol and drugs they had consumed and the presence of the hard, hot meat of their heroes in their mouths. When Deke came, Miriam was ready for him. She had no qualms about downing his passion’s product and she sucked it down enthusiastically. Her pussy was wet and afire with lust and she pinched and pulled at her rock hard teats as she milked Deke’s cock for all it could give her.
Daphne wasn’t sure that she was enjoying her oral experience with the rougher, hard bitten rocker, Slaughter. His mighty hand held her hair firmly as he forced his thick cock past the entry to her throat and held it there until she began to sputter and clamor for breath. Her hands were balled tensely into little fists as she frantically tried to withdraw her head from the heavyset man’s loins. Once, when he had allowed her freedom to draw in a much needed deep breath of air, she had closed her lips to try and deny him reentry. The hard man just yanked at her hair until she moaned with pain and slapped her across the face. “Have at it slut!” he yelled out to her. “Open yer fuckin’ mouth!”
Reluctantly, fearful of abuse and of the embarrassment of failing to satisfy the rock star, she reluctantly pursed her lips once more and felt Slaughter jam his fat rod back into her mouth and down her throat.
“That’s it, cunt, that’s it!” he yelled as her narrow esophagus squeezed his meat. “Ahhhhhhhhhh, yeah!” he screamed.
When the hot blooded drummer finally discharged his load, he pumped his jism directly into her stomach, forcing her to swallow it.
Roxanne was the first to raise her black haired head from her task. Jammer’s cum had flooded out of her mouth and over her chin. Drops of it fell on her bright yellow, Dayglo Dreamer t-shirt. Max was beaming at her with exuberant delight. “Now that’s a blow job!” he yelled at her. He patted her on the head as she wiped her chin with the back of her arm. The bandleader’s readily apparent satisfaction with her efforts sent a quiver of delight through her, overcoming her dismay at being forced to swallow the bulk of his come. She had done it! This was paradise! She flashed a grateful smile at her benefactor as she sat down on the seat in front of him.
Daphne was next. There were tears in her pretty blue eyes as she was permitted to release Slaughter’s softening dick from her mouth. She took in a deep breath as she fought off the urge to wretch. Slaughter placed his large, meaty hands on either side of her face and raised her from her knees. “Good job, honey, you took it all!” he said, grinning. A wave of intense pride flowed through the girl. She had hated the feeling of helplessness and invasion when the drummer had held his cock pressed past the edge of her mouth and into her throat for what seemed like forever as he pumped his seed into her, but, she thought to herself, if she could please this jaded, rough, experienced cocksman, she could please anybody. She had weathered the storm and done the deed. Although his large, strong hands were rough and scarred, she felt a sense of tenderness from them as they warmed her face. It had been hard, but it had been worth it. Yes, the risk of a trip to paradise was justified.
Miriam rose last from her task. She smiled broadly at the slender, pee wee sized guitarist. “Mmmmmmmmmm!” she murmured, loud enough so that he could hear her over the music. “You taste great!”
Deke laughed and placed his small hands on her big, round breasts. “You were great honey!” he told her. “And I love your tits!” Miriam pressed her chest firmly into the rock star’s hands.
The limousine slowed as it entered the airport. The band’s Learjet was parked at the far end of the tarmac and security allowed the privileged stars to drive directly to it. Miriam looked out of the windows and her heart sank. It was all over too soon! She wanted desperately to fuck one of the stars, preferable Deke. Roxanne was glad that the heady experience of meeting and blowing the rock stars was nearly over. Once was enough for her. Daphne was feeling like Miriam, disappointed that this was all there was. She was upset that she didn’t get the chance to suck Hammer’s dick. She looked at Roxanne jealously.
As the limo pulled to a halt, Max pulled a tin of Bolivian marching powder from his pocket. “How’s about coming aboard and doing a little blow?” he asked the girls. “There’s about twenty minutes to take off. Let’s party, huh?”
Miriam responded immediately. “Oh, yeah!” she screeched. “Let’s do it! Come on!” She looked at her girlfriends expectantly. Her black spandex halter top was still pulled up over her plump mounds. Roxanne watched them shake as the girl bounced with glee on the seat. She was not so sure. There could be too much of a good thing. The men would probably want to fuck them and she wasn’t sure that she was ready for that. A blow job was one thing, but spreading her thighs and letting one of these sexual mongrels into her private place was another. She had some standards, after all.
Daphne sensed Roxanne’s reticence. “Come on Roxy!” she yelled. “Pleeeeeease?”
The pretty, nineteen year old, black haired girl felt her resolve weaken. It was a once in a lifetime thing, after all. And to get to see the in
side of the jet was just too much to turn down. “Okay!” she said, smiling. “But just for a little while.”
Miriam and Daphne screeched and clapped their hands. Max smiled wickedly, as did his companions.
Creeper, the band’s mousy looking manager, opened the front door to the limo and hopped out. A minivan pulled up behind the limo and two roadies emerged. They immediately began to remove the band’s suitcases and private gear and place into the side cargo compartment of the plane. A large truck pulled up to the rear of the jet and a forklift began to remove several heavy crates marked “speakers” and “instruments” from the truck near the wide open, rear cargo compartment.
Standing next to the steps leading up to the passenger compartment to the plane was a slim, professional looking young woman. She was carrying a haversack over her shoulder, had a camera draped around her neck and was patting her leather booted foot impatiently.
Jana Cummings, 27 years old, was the premier rock critic for the Manchester News Service. She wore her chestnut colored hair down to below her shoulders. She had a smooth, attractive face, hard brown eyes befitting her profession, slender hips and full but not oversized breasts. She was wearing tight designer jeans and a denim shirt opened three buttons down. She wore little makeup, but her eyes were skillfully outlined and her lashes full and preened.
Jana had been promised an exclusive interview with the band and Creeper had kept putting her off. She was supposed to meet with them before the concert, but Creeper had told her at the last minute that the band was too busy and that she should meet them after the concert. When she tried to get into the dressing room, he had told her that they would meet her at the airport. She was pissed.
Creeper walked directly up to the attractive reporter and smiled a big, band manager’s smile. “Hi, Jana,” he said unctuously. “Glad you could make it.”