by Paul Blades
Max stretched and poured himself another cup of coffee. He was in no hurry. The day was getting warmer, hot even, and soon he would want to stay inside. The deck overlooked the South Atlantic and he could see blue water for miles. Birds circled the shoreline looking for food. Life as a rock star was great. And ever since Creeper had made the deal with these guys, life was even better. This was their second trip to the island. They had come here after the U.S. tour. He thought about the little brown haired girl he had brought with him that time. He wondered where she was. If she was still on the island, he’d like to look her up. He reached in his robe and fondled his world class dick. Her name was Brenda, or Brianna or something like that. She had cried and cried. But she gave excellent head and her skin had bruised beautifully. He recalled the night the band had left and he had informed her that they were leaving her and her friends behind. She had sobbed and begged and pleaded pathetically that he take her with him. She promised not to tell, that she wouldn’t say anything, that she would do anything. She would be his girlfriend, fuck him anytime he wanted. It gave him a boner just to think about it.
The singer looked over at the new girl. He couldn’t remember her name. He was sure he had asked her. Well, what difference did it make? She had fine tits and she had been pretty good with her mouth. He looked at her plump lips, trembling and wet where she had licked them from nervousness. They were a shiny red and inviting. “Come over here,” he told her.
Roxanne had begun to shiver from nervousness when she saw that Jammer was looking at her. She jumped when he spoke. She rose from her knees and stepped over to his chair, careful not to trip herself with the confining chain between her ankles. “Get back on your knees, honey and suck my dick,” he told her, his cruel eyes piercing her.
Roxanne withheld a whine of self pity and fell to her knees before the seated man. When she leaned forwards, Max had a beautiful view of her narrow pale skinned back, her rounded derriere and her leather bound hands. She had to edge closer to be able to reach his already hard prick. As she took the large, rounded head in her mouth, Max spoke to her again.
“I want you to take it slow and easy, baby. Make it last a long time. And don’t make me come until I tell you.”
Darkness swept across Roxanne’s heart as she slid her lips down the tall shaft of Max’s cock. Everything inside her wanted to get it over with, to make him come as fast as she could. But she saw how Daphne had been mistreated and saw how Max had laughed. He hadn’t hurt her yet, but she knew that he was capable of it. She would obey and give him no cause to beat her.
The girl worked Max’s tool lovingly. Her bare breasts swayed beneath her as she moved up and done on the man’s long, thick cock. She pressed her head down as far as she could, until she felt herself about to choke, and then brought her head up back again, running her tongue along the bottom side of the cock, swirling it around the head each time she got to the top. She tried to put out of her mind where she was and what she was doing. It was happening to someone else. It was a dream. It was someone else’s cock, one of her old boyfriends’ maybe.
And then Max spoke again. “You can do better than that, you fucking cunt,” he said. “I want my cock all the way in. All the way down. If you can’t do it, I’ll take you to my room and show you how.”
The intrusion of the rock star’s voice drove away all of Roxanne’s pretensions. She uttered a little sob and, on the next time down, pushed the thick cock past the edge of her throat, further and further until she felt Max’s pubic hair tickle her upper lip. Max placed his hand on her head and held it in place. “Keep it there for a minute, baby. You’re getting it.”
Roxanne coughed and sputtered as the huge, long cock filled her breathing tube. “You’re making too much noise, you dumb fuck,” Max said, irritation in his voice. “Do it quiet.”
The miserable girl struggled to suppress the sounds of her choking. She was beginning to get dizzy and prayed that the hard man would let her up soon. She unconsciously tugged at her hands behind to defend herself, fogetting they were bound. Finally, he released her head and she was able to move backwards. She did it nice and slow even though all of her was screaming for a deep breath of air. When she reached the top, she took in a huge gulp of oxygen and began the slow trek down again, making sure that she held the stiff pole tightly in her lips.
“That’s better,” Max thought as he leaned back to enjoy the ride. His blue robe had opened and he closed his eyes to enjoy the feeling of the strengthening sun on his face and chest. The hot, wet mouth of the kidnapped groupie sent wave after wave of intense pleasure through him. Thus was the life. Nobody had it better than Max Jammer, he thought. He had the biggest cock and the biggest band and could get trim whenever he wanted it. And good stuff too! And today he had the luscious mouth of this stupid slut. And her cunt and her ass too, if he wanted them. He could do anything he wanted to her.
Three times, Max grabbed Roxanne’s head to forestall his ejaculation. It was too nice for it to ever stop. By the third time, Roxanne had discovered the tell tale signs of his immanent orgasm and had ceased her motions just before he put his large, strong hand in her hair to stop her. “Good work, honey,” Max told her.
Finally, after about twenty minutes, Max decided it was time. Roxanne’s jaw ached and her knees hurt and she was begging God to make him come. She wondered how hard he would beat her if she made him come too early and whether it would be worth it. But Roxanne had never seen a woman whipped, never mind experienced it. Later, she recalled her naïve thoughts and counted herself a fool for ever thinking them.
The rock star groaned loudly as he felt his balls about to erupt. They were aching with need and he decided to let it all out. “Now, baby! Now! Suck it hard!” he yelled at the girl. Roxanne, grateful that her ordeal was about to end, increased her pace up and down the bandleader’s thick, hard cock. She nodded her head up and down feverishly, pushing her face into his loins and back up again, her long, black hair falling down the sides of her face.
“Suck on the head,” Max said, his voice straining with his lust. “Just the head, suck on it and lick it. And don’t swallow until I tell you!”
Roxanne pursed her lips around the helmet of Jammer’s cock and dragged her tongue along the soft, tender underside. Suddenly, the man grabbed her head in an intense grip and his cock began to throb. Roxanne readied herself for the copious flow. “Arrrrrgh! Max called out. “Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah!” he yelled as his sperm jetted out of the small hole at the tip of his well pleasured dick. He grabbed his balls and massaged them, coaxing out every last drop.
The unhappy girl recoiled when the first spurt hit the back of her mouth. Frantically, she kept at her business, dreading Max’s fury if she should lose hold of his instrument at the moment of crisis. Her mouth filled with his hot seed. Her bound hands twisted behind her in fear and frustration. It seemed like he would go on forever. His hips were rocking and his legs were shuddering, making it difficult for her to maintain her lips’ purchase on the jerking rod. It would have been much easier if she had been able to use her hands, but they were locked behind her and of no avail.
Finally, the spurting slowed and came to a halt. Roxanne reduced her efforts but dared not release the singer’s manhood without permission. Come drooled out of her mouth and over her chin. She wanted desperately to swallow. She was relieved when the singer pushed her head away. His breathing was heavy and his eyes were closed. Roxanne knelt there, his load in her mouth, awaiting his approval before emptying it. It was several moments before he opened his eyes and looked at her. He smiled and ordered her to show him his cum. Roxanne opened her mouth wide, exhibiting the thick white ooze floating on her tongue.
“Good girl, Max said. “Now swallow it.”
With a sob of relief, the young girl allowed the slime to pass to the back of her mouth and down her throat. She rocked back on her heels and closed her eyes.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
While Max was getting his leisurel
y blow job, Slaughter was dishing out a whole world of abuse to the frail Daphne. She cried and sobbed all the way to the bedroom. When they reached it, and her tormentor had closed the door, he released her mauled breast and gave her a resounding slap across the face. The force of the blow knocked the defenseless girl across the room and onto the floor. Her cheek burned where she had been struck.
“Get up, cunt!” Slaughter yelled at her. “Get up and get on the bed!”
Frightened beyond the ability to think, the slight, big breasted, yellow haired girl scrambled to obey. Slaughter tore off his robe and joined her. He pushed the pillows up against the headboard and leaned back against them. “Come here, slut,” he told her churlishly, raising he knees and spreading his tattooed, muscular thighs. “Put your mouth on my dick!”
Overwhelmed with fear, the girl knelt between Slaughter’s outstretched legs and took his penis in her mouth. It was already hard. He grabbed her by the hair on either side of her head and pushed her way down until the cock was in her throat. “Gaaaaaa!” the girl exclaimed as she felt the meat suddenly fill her esophagus.
The drummer was not in the mood for a leisurely blow job. He rarely was. Keeping hold of the young woman’s head he began to force it quickly up and down on his pole. Daphne moaned and gagged as he pierced her mouth fiercely again and again. Her arms strained at her bonds to free herself so as to mount even a futile defense from his onslaught. Her mind reeled at the cruelty that the man was imposing on her. She struggled to free her head from his grasp, but he had an iron grip on her hair and her efforts merely brought her more pain as her hair screamed at their roots.
Mercifully, it did not take long for the drummer to come. As was his want, at the moment of crisis, he held her head down, her nose against his belly while his cock jetted his come deep into her. He held her there until he had experienced the last wonderful throb and then, releasing the girl, pushed her away.
Daphne gasped for air and sobbed miserably. What had she ever done to deserve this? She tried to block out the thought that she would be at this man’s mercy for many days to come. How long would it be? Would he kill her? Maim her? Was there a tender bone in his body?
Slaughter reveled momentarily in the aftermath of his ecstatic orgasm. This was how he liked it. The more beautiful and delicate the girl, the more he liked abusing her. And this one was perfect, even better than the last one.
Emerging from his reverie, he realized that the bitch was sobbing and crying next to him. Rage rose within him. He would give her something to cry about!
“Get up,” he ordered her. “Turn around.”
Daphne fearfully rose to her knees and obediently turned her back to the devilish man. Her face was wet with tears. She felt him free her hands from behind her back and, for a moment, thought that some sanity and kindness had come to reside in him. But she was mistaken.
“Come over here and put your head on the bed and your hands between your legs,” he told her angrily. Daphne turned and assumed the demanded posture. He got up behind her and she felt her right arm being pulled down to her foot. He clipped her wrist bracelet to the one on her right ankle. He then grabbed the other wrist and fixed it similarly to the other ankle.
“These bracelet things are easier than ropes,” the man thought. But he liked ropes all the same. This bitch would learn some more rope tricks very soon. But now he desired convenience and the leather bindings served him well.
Daphne’s ass was raised high in the air from her posture. She whined from fear of what he was going to do to her. She felt the bed rise as he got off it, heard him open a closet and return. Every room at the resort was well equipped with the paraphernalia of bondage and pain. This room was no exception. Slaughter had brought back with him a thick leather gag and a 2’ long, thin whip with a large, man sized handle. It was ideal for dealing young sluts fierce, skin torturing blows. He sat down next to the girl on the bed and let the whip rub up and down her arched back.
“Do you know what this is, cunt?” he asked her rhetorically. “It’s a whip and I’m going to whip your backside raw.”
Daphne gave out a huge sob at the unwelcome news. “Oh, god!” she screamed. “Please don’t do that, please! Oh, I couldn’t stand it! Please! Please don’t! I’ll do anything you want! Please, for mercy’ sake, please!” She remembered the scene at the bathhouse and the curvaceous brown haired woman with all the stripes down her back. “Ohhhhhh! Pleeeeeeease!”
Slaughter continued to tease the skin on the girl’s back with the whip as she pleaded for forbearance. She could feel its hard surface as it slid over her tender skin. She strained at the bonds connecting her ankles to her wrists and in a panic, tried to shuffle off of the bed.
The determined drummer grabbed a huge shock of her hair. “Where are you going, bitch!” he yelled at her. He placed his mouth next to her ear. “If you don’t do what I say,” he said in a harsh, cruel whisper, “I’m going to make you sorry that you ever were born. You’re thousands of miles away from your mommy and daddy and there’s no one here who’s going to help you. You’re mine now, bitch, and I can do anything to you that I want to. So you better make me happy. Do you understand?”
The rock star’s words sent a chill throughout Daphne. She closed her eyes and nodded, knowing what the sadistic man had said was true. Yesterday, this time, she was at work, biding her time until the concert. She was going to see her idols, live! And now, she was god knows where, under the cruel control of this fiendish man. Perhaps she was being punished for her sin of wantonness, when she yielded to temptation, when she got into the fateful limousine knowing full well that she was going to willingly offer sexual service to a complete stranger. She had lusted for it, wanted it. And now, she wanted anything else.
“I’ve got to shut you up, slut,” Slaughter told her, filled up to here with her whining and crying. He pulled her head back rudely and pushed the gag into her mouth. He released her head and buckled the gag on tightly.
Satisfied that the girl would give him no more trouble, Slaughter picked up his whip and moved to the foot of the bed. It was wide and long, covered by sparkling white sheets. Daphne was kneeling in the middle of it and he grabbed her hips and pulled her closer to the end so that he could get a clear shot at her. He paused to appreciate her delectable form. The smooth, flawless skin of her raised ass enraptured him. He ran his rough hand over it, appreciating its softness and tightness. A revelation came to him. “We’ve got to get your ass ready for the whip, fuckbucket,” he told the sniveling and still whining girl. “I’m going to make it real red and hot so that the whip will really sting!”
Putting the whip aside, Slaughter took his hand and gave the girl’s right rear cheek a resounding slap. The sound of his hand striking her flesh was loud and sharp. A redness arose where his hand had landed. This was more like it!
He stepped closer and gave her left hindquarter another whack. Daphne screeched as the stinging pain echoed through her. He slapped her again and again and again, in rapid succession. He kept slapping her, hard and cruel, until the whole area of her back side started to grow a rosy pink. Daphne moaned and cried and tried to twist her buttocks to avoid the blows, but the swaying, dancing ass merely made the exercise in cruelty just that much more exciting.
Eventually, Daphne’s posterior began to turn dark red. Slaughter was strong and relentless. The girl was crying and moaning as each slap of the man’s hand hurt more and more. When he stopped, it felt like her whole ass was afire. But her torment had just begun. The worst was yet to come.
Slaughter was breathing heavily at his exertions. Despite the air-conditioning in the room, he was sweating profusely. He needed a drink. Fortunately, each room was outfitted with its own bar and he walked to the liquor cabinet and removed a bottle of Jack Daniels. He pried the plastic from the top and unscrewed the cap. He leaned back and took a long, generous swig. “Ahhhhhh!” he reacted as the hot fluid heated his throat. He took another swig and another. The booze went straight to
his head. He shook his head wildly, relishing the enflaming effect. He put the uncapped bottle on the dresser and flung the cap away. Now he was ready.
Slaughter picked the evil instrument up from the floor and eyed his round, red target. Daphne had hoped and prayed that his sadism had been sated, that he had had enough. But her heart turned to lead when she heard him swish the whip through the air, testing it.
“Here it comes, baby!” Slaughter tormented the girl. “I hope you like it,”
The broad shouldered well muscled man swung the whip back and then brought it forward quickly. The whip cut across Daphne’s buttocks and she screamed. Even through the gag, her voice was loud and anguished. Her hands spread out wide and twisted in her bonds and the unendurable pain shot through her like an electric bolt. A line of red, brighter than the dull red of her already abused skin, sprung up. Slaughter liked what he heard and saw. He paused for a moment, wondering whether it would be better to hear the girl’s unrestricted screams. But his blood was aboil and he didn’t want to interrupt his ecstasy even for the short time that it would take to ungag her.
Again and again the fierce blows insulted Daphne’s damaged skin. Again and again she screamed and screamed. She tried to form words of supplication, to beg the man to stop, but the pain came quicker than her mind could work and from behind her gag only short, inarticulate exclamations emerged.
Daphne didn’t realize it when Slaughter finally stopped. Her bruised ass was covered by two different shades of red, bright, red lines going this way and that against a background of dark, almost maroon coloring. It stung like a thousand bees had attacked her. She sobbed and sobbed, her chest heaving with the exertion of expressing her suffering.
The drummer retrieved his bottle of sour mash and took a long pull on it. His cock was hard as a rock. It was a long time since he had had the opportunity to abuse a woman this way, almost seven months since their last trip. His mind had gone over many times what he was going to do when he returned to this island. He had been warned last time about the cruelties he had visited on the slave girls native to the resort. Klitzman’s people discouraged maiming the females or tormenting them beyond practical use. He had had a heavy surcharge on his bill. But this cunt was his. He had brought her. And until he turned her over to the resort at the end of his stay, he could do what he pleased with her. If she was adjudged damaged beyond repair, he would not get the offset to his fees that he would normally get for delivering a new inmate to this hellish female prison. But who cared? Money he had plenty of. And what was it for anyway?