by Jools Louise
“Mmfd jhoosjs djos,” I mumbled, my tongue feeling like it was ten times its usual size, and my jaw didn’t open as it should, and I frowned in frustration.
“Don’t try to talk, luv, you’ll hurt yourself.” That was Max, who sounded like he was crying, and I tried again to open my eyes, shifting my head slightly.
I felt a warm hand against my cheek, then the touch of soft lips, and I inhaled the delicious scent of Jackson’s aftershave, a nice change from disinfectant.
“You just rest, luv. We’ll be here when you wake up,” Jackson said softly, kissing my cheek again, his thumb brushing my lips in a butterfly caress as I faded out again.
I heard low voices talking as I woke later. Trying to open my eyes again had more success. I was able to pry one open to a slit, although my vision was so blurry it was impossible to see anything clearly. I could hear a faint beeping noise in the background, and still smelled the disinfectant.
My arm still had a brick attached, and as I gingerly tried to move my mouth, I had a flash of memory which had terror slicing through me. The beeping noise increased and the voices became louder.
“Careful, luv, you’re safe now.” Max was nearby, still sounding upset, and I felt him kiss my forehead.
I grunted, frustrated that I couldn’t speak, and he kissed me again. I remembered what had happened, being attacked by the cyborg, and added up the fact that I had been punched and kicked by the bastard, realised my face must be in a bad way.
I felt the hot slide of tears leaking from my eyes, not feeling pain but as though something had died inside. I felt like I was grieving and I didn’t know why. I wasn’t dead, and no one had died, had they? Why was I being such a wimp?
Then I remembered the words that the cyborg bastard had kept repeating as he had pummelled my bruised body.
He had told me, “Payback’s a bitch and now the bitch is being paid back. You’ve ruined me, the police are after me and I’ll be damned if some fat stupid bitch is going to bring me down! When I’m done with you, you won’t be ruining anyone else, bitch!”
What a moron. The only one who had ruined his career was him and his greedy, grasping, and bullying personality.
I faded into blissful sleep again, thinking I could murder a tub of Häagen-Dazs.
Chapter 11:
El Santuario
Three months later I was mobile finally, and being shepherded by Jackson and Max into a waiting limo for the journey to El Santuario. I had never actually met a mother hen with a cock and balls before, but my companions were definite contenders for the title.
I had put the attack behind me. Oh, I knew I would have flashbacks, but I decided it could have been worse. I hadn’t been raped, I wasn’t permanently wounded, and my internal injuries had healed with no complications. Cyborg had been arrested, having tried to flee when Jackson and Max had heard me screaming and come running. Apparently, according to Jackson, Max had nearly killed the guy and had been dragged off him by two burly police constables when the cyborg had brandished a tyre iron to finish the job on me. Leaping forward like a gazelle, according to Jackson, Max had showed some fairly cool karate moves, kicking the tyre iron from the bastard’s hand before dragging him to one side.
Cyborg had still been enraged and had gotten in a few blows to Max, calling him a limp-wristed man-loving weirdo who liked fat stupid bitches—I think he meant me. Max had proceeded to hand him his fat ass—Jackson’s words—and if the police and ambulance had not arrived in good time, Max would have ended up in a mess of trouble.
As it was, I had witnesses from neighbours who had called the police when they saw me being attacked, plus the fact that Cyborg had continued attacking Max when Max dragged him off me. No charges were brought against Max, although he did tell me it would have been worth the jail time to smash the asshole’s teeth down his fat throat.
Wow! Who knew the twink had anger management issues. I said this to Max, who had stared at me incredulously after one particularly long rant, and then his eyes had widened, his bright smile had spread like sunshine across his face, and he had fallen about laughing at being called a twink. I had no real clue what a twink was, but had heard the term once or twice. I then had Jackson explain to me what a twink was. He felt Max was more of a queen than a twink, since twinks were more bottom boys, while Max had definitely shown his inner diva in the last few weeks.
This had led to more laughter, which had led to some fairly sizzling kisses. The insults kept coming, however, since I complained about the lack of Häagen-Dazs during my recovery, and being told that since I was now a cum junkie and not an ice cream junkie, they hadn’t thought I needed any of my favourite treat.
Cyborg was incarcerated, his attack so vicious, and the witnesses so forthcoming with information, that his case had been rushed through, and his trial was pretty much a done deal. His high-priced lawyer really hadn’t been able to mount much of a defence, since in the aftermath of the attack, many of the managers from my former work place had come forward to add their testimony to the cyborg’s bullying. Ex-lovers, ex-wives, and even his twin sons had also stood up in court to testify at what a vicious thug the cyborg was, and added to the evidence of his thefts of items totalling £20,000 in my former store, the cyborg was no longer a free man. In fact, such was the strength of feeling against him, the judge had given the maximum sentence of attempted murder, which had been granted, and Cyborg would now be sharing a cell at Her Majesty’s pleasure with a bunch of far tougher men than he. I really hoped they took advantage of Cyborg’s lardy ass.
The limo ride was filled with hilarity, all of us relieved to finally be returning to the island. As a get well present to myself, I had gone shopping, splurging on a bunch of lightweight clothing suitable for the tropics. Max and I had also visited a store which offered a large selection of adult toys, and we had giggled like naughty schoolchildren as we selected a large box full of items which we could use to torment the crew with. There was one in particular which had caught my eye, which I planned to use on Caleb if he would let me. Jackson knew we were up to something, his eyes twinkling at our giggling outbursts, before shaking his head.
The airport came into view, and I felt that zing of excitement at the thought of my new life.
I also decided that I was going to renew my membership to the mile high club, and intended taking full advantage over the long flight of every horizontal surface, guaranteeing myself a lifetime membership.
Two weeks later, walking along the soft white sand near my villa, I had a flashback. I had experienced a few since I’d been back, not letting the crew know since they would only smother me, and I needed to deal with stuff in my head. I knew they all had their own horror stories. Caleb had been brutally beaten and raped as a teenager when trying to leave a gang in Los Angeles. Michael had been a boy soldier in Sierra Leone, then whipped and viciously raped until he had managed to flee with the help of Jackson.
Max had been a product of a failed system, leaving him to flounder after the death of his parents and he had run on the streets for a while. A brief period as a rent boy had ended when one of his tricks had ignored Max’s safe word, and brutally raped and beaten him before leaving him in the gutter.
After hearing those stories, how could what happen possibly compare?
But the flashbacks were terrifying, and I sank to my knees in the sand, unable to stop myself vomiting up my breakfast, then moving with trembling legs to a platform positioned further along the beach.
I sat on the platform, resting my chin on my knees, and zoned out, staring at the blue vista of the ocean, and idly watching the flight of a flock of gulls and terns weaving around on the air currents.
I became aware of someone sitting beside me, not speaking, simply sitting there. I felt a strong arm wrap around me, the warmth of a hard male body seeping into me and giving me comfort.
“When the soldiers came, I was only about ten years old.” Michael’s deep voice reached my ears and I froze at his words. He ha
d never spoken of his time as a boy soldier, though I knew from Jackson that he fought his demons every day. “They threatened to kill anyone who tried to stop them, but my parents gave me up willingly, accepting payment for me since they had six other children to support.” Tears began to trickle down my cheeks as he continued.
“They beat me every day to desensitise me to violence. They told me over and over that my parents had sold me as I was worthless as anything other than a brutal killer, which was why they had taken me, they said. I kept trying to run away, and each time they found me and dragged me back. I was twelve years old when they started raping me. The new leader liked boys, and while the beatings were brutal, the rapes were worse. It was about control for him, and destroying my spirit. He wanted me crushed so I would just be an automaton, but I didn’t let him win. Instead I had a plan. I learned to fight and kill, and I grew big and strong. One night, the leader raped me and I let all the rage and hatred take over. I lost control and turned on him. I was an animal, literally ripping him apart. He was worse than an animal, though and I was glad he died. Then I ran.”
I leaned against him, kissing his shoulder, and his arm tightened around me.
“Jackson saved my life. I was numb. I couldn’t feel anything and then this man came to me in the hospital. I had managed to reach a medical outpost run by the Red Cross. I was in a bad way. I was lucky I didn’t contract AIDS, but my injuries internally were severe and it took a long time to heal. Jackson offered me a job, not asking questions of me, simply offering me a new life. I didn’t trust him, and by that time I was eighteen years old and thought I was immune to everything. Except Jackson, apparently.” He snorted, that bright smile flashing for a moment and I laughed softly, kissing his bicep.
“It took him a while to break through, and I still get scared. My temper can ignite so quickly, when I see someone being abused. I know I could kill again, for the right reasons, but I know that would mean another part of my soul would be destroyed. It scares me to know what I’m capable of.” He whispered the last part.
I kneeled, crawling up behind him and wrapping around him, my chest hugging his back, and peppered kisses against his neck and the crook of his shoulder.
“You have a beautiful soul, and you have a beautiful smile. Being a survivor is nothing to be scared of, and if I could pay a visit to those who sold you I would probably be liable to feel like killing, too.” My face rested against his broad back, and I saw the network of scars, paler than the deep mahogany of his natural skin tone.
I licked a path along the highest scar, and he shuddered. His head fell forward and I tasted the salty tang of sea water on his skin mixed with the sweat which gleamed from the hot sunshine.
Each scar warranted a tender kiss, and I spent a long time paying tender attention to each war wound. The scars wound down his torso to his lower back. The taut globes were streaked with thin lines and I pushed him forward to his hands and knees as I laved every single one, leaving none neglected.
He was groaning low in his throat, enjoying the feel of my tongue as I pulled his brief trunks down around his knees so that I could check every inch of him for possible scars.
“I don’t have any scars down there.” He growled hoarsely, groaning gutturally as my tongue swept along the crack of his tight ass, lapping up the salty sweat before probing deeper. I found his tiny hole, parting his cheeks with my fingers before sinking my face against the glistening hole and pressing against the tight muscle with my tongue.
“Jeezus, Jess, that feels so good.” His hips began to move, thrusting back slightly as I tongued his hole, humming in pleasure as I tasted his musky flavour.
“Hey! I’m a cum junkie, now an anal junkie. I thought I’d kiss you all better.” I bit each ass cheek in turn and he chuckled, groaning again.
Crawling around to the front, I pushed him back onto his haunches, admiring the ten-inch behemoth which bobbed against his taut abs, the tip glistening with creamy fluid. My fist wrapped around the massive length, and straddling him, I remained on my knees to place tender kisses all over his beautiful face. Stroking the monster cock below, I soon had him moaning constantly as I pleasured him, lubricating his cock with his own pre-cum.
With a sigh of pleasure, I held his face between my hands, my mouth fused to his as our tongues swirled, blending our flavours together, before I sank down and plunged my now sopping pussy onto his hard length.
I moaned into his mouth as that behemoth pierced my channel, stretching me wide as I sank lower and lower until with a whimper he was seated fully inside, his balls cushioning my ass.
I lifted my mouth from his, staring into his caramel-coloured gaze. I thought of his eyes like those of a lion, brown with gold tones which sometimes looked like a predator, hinting at the dangerous depths to him, but I knew he had a streak of honour that went bone deep. He wasn’t dangerous to me, but woe betide anyone who came after me.
“I love you,” I whispered against his mouth.
“You’ve killed, but you’re nothing like the bastard who beat me up.” I kissed him hard, moving my hips up before slamming back down, and he groaned, head thrown back in ecstasy as my pussy embraced his length.
“Cyborg was a bully and a wife beater, an abuser on a power trip and he’s now where he belongs—in jail.” I lifted up again, then slammed back down. His strong fingers gripped my hips, grinding me against his pubic bone as he groaned again.
“I have flashbacks from the attack, because I’ve never felt so helpless before. He would have killed me, kicking me into the gutter. I’m angry because although I fought back, I was still helpless.” I moved again, biting his shoulder fiercely, feeling that helpless rage return from being at the mercy of the Cyborg bully.
Michael’s arms came around me, his forearms resting under my ass, and he began to thrust upward into me, holding my body in place as he fucked up into me with powerful thrusts. My head fell back, my upper torso arching so that my tits pouted upward, my tits jiggling with each powerful surge of his body.
“Jess, you are one of the strongest people I know.” Michael panted, licking a path across my chest from one taut nipple to the other. He bit lightly on each one in turn, sucking hard before moving across to the other. “You let yourself feel, you let people close to you, you allow yourself to love, opening yourself to people around you and letting us into your heart.” I moaned, losing myself in his strong embrace.
“I love you. I love you. I love you.” He moved me to lie on my back, lifting my legs onto his shoulders, mouth fused to mine before he surged against me, hips moving steadily. His hands kneaded my tits, pinching the nipples as he pummelled my channel, his thrusting hips powering like a jackhammer until, with a bellow from him and a scream from me, we both came hard. I felt the warm spurts of his semen against my belly as he raised up just before he came, jetting thick cream across my lower abdomen as my body convulsed, before falling back on the platform and collapsing in a sweaty heap of exhausted satiation.
“Holy shit! I think my eyes might be permanently crossed! I think we might need to license that monster as a weapon.”
Michael started laughing at my irreverent comment, then fell on his back next to me and lay trying to catch his breath, his dick still hard and pointing straight up. We both looked at it, then exchanged glances, his laugh ringing out again as I crossed my eyes, then my legs before lying back down again.
Neither of us saw Jackson leaning against a palm tree, a smile on his face as he watched us.
“Another one bites the dust,” he muttered, then grinned before walking slowly back to the resort office.
Epilogue
Over the next few weeks, I grew closer to each of the crew. I connected with Jackson, Max, and Michael the most. I spent the most time with these three individually, talking and making love on a deeper level than the others. I was definitely in love with these three fantastic men and felt that as I grew to know the history of and spent more time with Raphael, Dean, Louis, Marcus, and
Caleb that I would grow close to them as well.
For now, we enjoyed making out, and engaging in many pleasurable orgies, but I was eager to explore all my guys in every way possible.
I felt that Marcus, Raphael, and Louis held back a little from me, perhaps not sure of the dynamic or where they fit into the group. Dean and Caleb were becoming more comfortable, loosening the barriers that held them back from totally embracing our lifestyle on a deeper emotional level.
I was okay with that. I knew I had lost many of my inhibitions on the island, and looked forward to losing a few more in the coming months. Watch this space.
Anyway, enough about my men, where’s the Häagen-Dazs?
THE END
WWW.JOOLSLOUISE1.CO.UK
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I’m in my mid-forties, single, and living in a caravan in the north west of England with my mum, who at 71 years of age is more spry than I am! We look after each other, and enjoy travelling. I love Greece, and have visited the island of Kos, Crete, and Kefalonia, since there is a great vibe to each of the islands, all having their own character. A few years ago I was able to visit Hawaii on a cruise ship from Los Angeles, and spent eight days at sea and then four fairly intense days trying to see as much as possible before returning to the west coast of America again before flying home. Since then, I’ve done two other cruises, around the Canary Islands and the western Mediterranean, and am planning one to Iceland and another to the Caribbean in the next couple of years.
I’ve always loved to read, and enjoyed writing stories as a child, but the need to work along with family pressure to work at jobs which had a regular salary, rather than any serious application to write and get published, led to me working in various jobs both in retail and the travel industry.
I left school at 16 years old, being an army brat and having my education disrupted every two years, so as soon as I was legal, I walked out of the latest establishment and decided I needed money rather than playing catch up all the time. I still read quite a bit, and became addicted to Mills and Boon early on, loving the happily ever after and predictability. My family laughed at my fascination with romantic fiction, telling me they were trashy, but I ignored them and graduated to sexier fiction with more naughty bits. I discovered erotica a few years ago, liking a romantic story with lots of sexy scenes. I enjoy sci-fi/fantasy and paranormal/shape shifter when I’m reading, but my writing style seems to be leaning toward contemporary.