‘Wooh! See the jiggle on that!’
I don’t look at any of them. I just hurry through the kitchen, my bare feet making sticky noises on the filthy lino, to the tiny bathroom. It was obviously built as an extension to the house when the outside toilet in the yard became no longer acceptable. It contains a white-tiled shower corner and a separate toilet cubicle; everything’s cobwebbed and grubby but I have it to myself as Naylor doesn’t seem to have need of the facilities. I hurry into the inner box and shut the door. There’s a tiny frosted window with a latch and a lever arm. Outside is the yard gate and freedom. I jerk the latch but it’s too stiff to move. I’m still pushing hopelessly at the frame of the window when the door opens and Naylor is standing there, grinning that cruel grin of his.
‘Thought you were having a slash?’ he asks. ‘Don’t worry; there’s enough fresh air if you keep the door open.’ Behind him his two thugs drift nonchalantly into view. I don’t try to look innocent; I just stare wide-eyed at the three of them as the pit of my stomach plunges inside me. ‘Go on,’ he says. ‘Have a piss, girl. Drop the pants.’
Silently I shake my head.
‘Fucking do it.’ His voice is soft and implacable.
So I pull down my leggings and panties in one quick motion and sit down hard on the wobbly plastic seat.
‘Pants right off. Open your legs.’
I obey, though my face is burning with shame. My hands make furtive, clumsy attempts to cover my fleece.
‘Hands on your knees.’
Squirming with horror, I reveal to the three men lounging in the doorway my pubic mound, with its dark hair and its pink cleft. Cool air licks my moist tissues.
‘I like a nice bit of bush,’ Mark comments.
‘Hell, yes.’
‘Good girl. You can piss now.’
If it wasn’t that I really am desperate for a pee I might not be able to unclench my muscles. As it is I have no choice; my body takes over. Hiss goes the porcelain and they grin and hoot and mock me. It’s the most exquisite humiliation, passing water in front of those men. I’ve never done anything like it and it rattles me to the core. I’m shaking with shame by the time my bladder is empty.
‘Now look: she’s all dirty,’ Naylor chides. ‘You’d better clean her up, you two.’
They take me by the arms and put me in the shower cubicle, still clothed from the waist up and naked from the waist down. The showerhead’s missing and there’s just a hose. Mark spins the handle and water jets out in my face, and I shriek instinctively and throw my hands up. It’s a good job it’s a warm night because the water is cold – not bone-chilling but bad enough to shock my skin. I try to shield my face and he directs it at my crotch; I try to protect that and he shoots it all over my breasts, making me leap about. When I turn my face to the wall he directs the jet up under the overhang of my buttocks right into my pussy and my crack. I can’t stop screaming, my cries punctuated by pleas of ‘No!’ The two blokes pass the hose between them, laughing, until they’ve thoroughly soaked me and my remaining garments, until they’ve reduced me to shock and near-collapse, sitting helpless on the floor with my back to the tiles, my knees splayed, the jet splashing on my split.
‘Get that shirt up, bitch,’ Luke orders, bolder now. ‘Let’s see those tits of yours.’
I pull the wet cloth up to my armpits, revealing my bare breasts and their sunken bite-marks. After the assault of the cold water my nipples are standing out like bullets.
‘Killer tits,’ is Mark’s opinion.
‘Yeah. Fat birds’ve got it going. Tits and ass.’ Luke moves the flow up, targetting the bull’s-eyes of my nipples as he plays it from side to side, making my breasts wobble. They laugh harshly.
‘Please,’ I gasp weakly.
‘Jeez,’ Naylor complains, moving to stand behind the two men, clasping their shoulders, all very matey. ‘Do you never shut up? Gentlemen, turn the water off; I think it’s time we gave this bitch a bone to keep her quiet.’
The funny thing is that in a whole week Naylor hasn’t once demanded a blowjob off me. Yet he seems eager to see me service his two stud dogs. Is this a vampire thing? I wonder blearily. He stands there between them and watches the look on my face as flies are unzipped and belts uncinched and the two cocks come out, one white and one black, both already stiffly angled. They’re both big too; thick and uncouth, blind eyes weeping with eagerness. I wonder if Naylor picked them both for their size, or whether it’s just pure luck.
‘Get here.’
So I crawl forward and take them one in each hand, knowing it’s pointless to protest. Slabs of meat, slightly sticky from their body-heat and confinement. My fingers are cold and those dicks seem to burn. The scents of the two crotches are distinctive but both torridly masculine, and I remember that Naylor has no body odour at all.
Mark, I notice, has twin puncture marks on his shaft.
They have to take it in turns. First one plunders my mouth, then the other. Big. God, they’re big: they stretch my throat. And salty. I work to fill my mouth with moisture and keep breathing as they thrust their hips and grab me by the hair to push me deeper. I make messy desperate gobbling noises as they pull out and shove back, slurping on their bulging heads, turning from one to another to snatch a moment’s respite from the pressure.
‘God, you love it, don’t you, girly?’
‘Damn, that’s good. That’s good, bitch.’
I know I’m good.
‘You’re a proper little cocksucker, aren’t you? A proper little slut?’
I moan deep in my throat, unable to make any more articulate protest around the dick fucking my mouth.
‘Glad you like her, gentlemen. It’s always the feisty feminist ones that make the best cocksuckers,’ Naylor observes. ‘Once you’ve broken them to it.’
‘I want to fuck that big ass,’ says Mark. My hand is working his boner as my lips see to the other man.
‘You’ll get your chance. We all will. Like the sound of that, Jo?’
I flash Naylor an agonised look over Luke’s prodigious length. The vampire’s long teeth are fully exposed now: I know he’s got a hard-on.
‘I’m going to shoot,’ says Luke urgently. He’s young; it’s not surprising he hasn’t Mark’s endurance. His balls are clenched so hard his scrotum has a bluish hue.
‘Feel free.’ Naylor grabs me by the hair and pulls me off Luke’s cock, holding me there as the man starts to come. My mouth is open, gasping for air, but I receive such a gush of semen that I nearly choke. The rest is directed over my face and on my breasts, Luke jerking his length with his hand to wring out every last drop.
‘Shit – shit – shit!’ he cries.
‘Swallow,’ Naylor orders, letting me collapse from my aching knees to my butt, and I know better than to disobey. Luke’s ejaculate is tangy and sharp.
Mark grits his teeth in a grin and turns away, his cock ruddy with frustration.
‘Now clean your face, you dirty cow,’ Naylor admonishes mildly. ‘You’re not finished yet. You two: bring her along.’ He walks out of the bathroom.
Luke’s cum is looped in sticky strands on my cold skin. I pull my wet top off over my head and wipe my face with it as best I can. Luke is smirking and pleased with himself, but Mark, still nursing his stiffy, is less relaxed. He reaches down to help me to my feet and catches my eye, frowning at the tears welling there. ‘You’re all right, girl,’ he says gruffly. ‘You’ve not been hurt.’
Well, that one takes me by surprise.
Together they frogmarch me out through the kitchen, back to the downstairs back room and that creaky old bed. When we enter the room Naylor is sitting on the stained yellow nylon quilt, naked. I don’t know where his clothes have gone; there’s no sign of them. His cock is fully erect, elegant in comparison to the two heavies flanking me. He smiles a vampire smile, cruel as razors.
‘Lift her up,’ he says, gesturing. ‘Spread her.’
With a quick glance at each other they ta
ke hold under my arms, grabbing my legs to lift me horizontal, holding my sex wide open for Naylor’s pleasure; though I twist my hips reflexively I can’t hide what’s between my legs. My feet dangle in mid-air: they’re both big boys and have no difficulty holding me between them. I feel weightless, for once, and hopelessly weak; my struggles are tokens only, ineffective against their immensely superior strength. Standing, Naylor approaches and buries his hand in my pussy, sliding fingers inside me. I squeal and buck in vain, making my breasts slam up and down.
‘You like that, don’t you?’ he asks.
‘Nooo!’
‘Cunt doesn’t lie, Jo. Wet cunt says you’re a dirty slut. That you like being used by three big bastards at once.’
I count two big bastards and a pretty-boy, myself, but I’m in no position to argue. His hand is moving in and out and twisting round, measuring the limits my hole will stretch to. Then he pulls it out and slides those fingers, slippery with my juices, to the puckered iris below. I feel my muscles resist him only for a moment, and then he’s past my last defence and sending hot flashes through my whole body as he invades my tender anus. His free hand takes over duties in my pussy – and now he’s inside me with both hands, playing me like a glove puppet, making me shudder and sweat and keen loudly.
‘Bite her,’ Luke urges under his breath.
‘Hm?’ Intent on his work, Naylor only raises an eyebrow.
‘Why don’t you bite her?’ His voice is husky. I know his type. Vampire wannabe, not vampire groupie. Sees himself as a Top.
‘I can’t bite her: she’ll only end up enjoying herself.’ Naylor’s teeth – they’re hollow, I’ve worked out, and they inject something just like a snake does, when he bites – are all out on display though, now, and his irises are narrow green rims around depthless black pits. The need for blood is rising with his arousal. They’re hypnotic, those eyes, and I can’t look away. I see myself mirrored in them, his slave. ‘That would never do, would it Jo? I mean,’ he adds, rolling my clit with his thumb as he ruthlessly plunders both my holes, ‘imagine how humiliating that would be, to be held down and fucked by three men, screaming “Yes!” and coming – over and over again – because you can’t get enough of being treated like the dirty little slut you are …’
And his words are drowned as I do come, screaming, just like he wants me to. Then I burst into tears of shame. The tears keep on coming as he pulls out his hand and replaces the sudden void in my bottom with his cock, driving it home with ruthless thrusts and squirting me full of his cold semen as he climaxes. I feel utterly violated.
He doesn’t go soft afterwards, of course. He’s only just getting started. He pulls out of my butt and plants his stake straight back in the softer ground of my pussy. Dirty bastard. What does he care? He plucks me out of the cradle of arms and walks over to the bed, holding me impaled on his cock. My head falls back and my braided hair swings like the rope of a gallows victim. I feel him swing me round and then he settles himself back flat on the bed and pulls me down on top of him, legs sprawled astride his hips. ‘My filthy little whore,’ he whispers. ‘Tonight you’re going to ho for all three of us.’
He’s as cold as a corpse, still. Even his cock, inside me. It feels like glass. My pussy’s still clenching around it.
‘Come on, gentlemen. Let’s get stuck in; there’s room for a couple more up top. Luke, take her ass; I’ve lubed her up for you. Mark, get up here in her mouth.’
The two grunts strip off, with clumsy eagerness. Luke gets down to naked, his chest muscular and gleaming. ‘I’m going to use a rubber,’ he says, extracting a crushed packet from his jeans pocket. ‘Don’t know where the dirty bitch has been.’
‘Suit yourself,’ says Naylor. I don’t suppose STDs apply to the undead.
Mark keeps his T-shirt on, white with a sports logo; maybe he’s a bit ashamed of his faint paunch. But as he climbs up on the bed and straddles Naylor’s head I see vampire track-marks all over his legs and groin. He’s an old hand, it seems. His cock is a little softer than last time I had it in my mouth, but a couple of strokes of his palm buff it up good as new. He slaps my cheeks with it, like he’s challenging me to a duel. I turn my face away, still trying to catch my breath; this time he slaps me with his open hand – not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to shock and make his humiliating point clear. I gasp and look contrite.
‘Come on: be a good girl.’
Naylor sniggers and stabs me deep. I don’t resist when Mark grabs the hair on the top of my head, tilts my head back so my mouth falls open, and aims his rod at the back of my throat. Beneath me, Naylor gets a ringside view of that cock sinking into between my lips. There’s that oral fixation again. He can’t resist any longer: he starts to bite Mark lightly, up the insides of the thighs. For a second the cock goes soft in my mouth, then Mark grunts and there’s a surge of solidity in the column of flesh gagging me. His breathing starts to come quick and shallow, his thrusts little more than quivers as he pushes my head up and down on him, both hands wrapped in my hair.
So I’m back to giving Mark a blowjob, my attentions undivided this time, while Luke mounts up behind me and sticks his thick fingers up my sorely used bum-hole. Naylor’s come has got me greased up, making entry easy. I’m glad of that: Luke’s girth is going to be a burden as it is. He’s taking his time impaling me though, working his fingers in and out, sometimes pressing his hot cock to my dilated aperture, but never rampaging home. He’s not hard enough, I’m dimly aware, though most of my attention is on my frenzied sucking and on Naylor’s feeding going on below.
Then Naylor reaches Mark’s balls and takes a greedy bite, and the big man explodes in my mouth like a salt-sea breaker and I have to swallow it all down or choke. Mark is moaning and swearing and coughing like he’s been punched in the stomach, his cock throbbing on my tongue.
‘For fuck’s sake, Luke,’ Naylor complains, detaching his bloody mouth from Mark’s scrotum. ‘What’s taking you? You going to spit-roast the hog or not?’
‘Give us a chance,’ Luke mumbles.
‘What?’
‘Shut up, Luke,’ Mark coughs, hoarse. ‘I’ll do it, Naylor. Let her suck him for a while …’
His cock, I notice, is still rock. Like a vampire’s.
Naylor’s voice hardens. ‘I want Luke to do it.’
‘I’ve already come once. I need a minute …’
With a grunt of irritation Naylor rolls me off on to the mattress and sits up, staring at Luke. The young man looks defensive.
‘Give it here,’ says Naylor impatiently, reaching for Luke’s cock like it’s a TV remote that needs new batteries.
Luke’s hands get in the way. ‘Oi!’ he protests.
From that I’d know, even if I hadn’t seen his smooth, unpunctured skin, that he’s a vampire virgin. He’s never messed with one before. Stupid fool, I think, as Naylor’s eyes narrow and he stretches out his hand again.
Luke yells: ‘Get off it, you fucking qu–’
But Naylor throws him backwards off the bed and on to the floor before he can even finish the word. Then he picks him up, one hand to that broad throat, and slams him against the wall at the full stretch of his arm. I can see Luke’s feet kicking, trying to make contact with the floorboards. His eyes bulge. His bulk’s no match for that slim inhuman strength.
Just for a second there’s no one holding me or watching me and I nearly panic, wondering what I should do. Should I try to escape? Then Mark’s fingers knot in my hair from behind and he pushes my wrist up behind my back, and I relax.
‘Shut up. Stay still,’ he whispers in my ear.
Luke’s face is darkening with congestion. He tries to push Naylor away, and that doesn’t work. As he runs out of air he starts to freak out and hit and kick in earnest; his blows bounce off the willowy vampire without the slightest effect. I’m not sure that Naylor even feels them. He keeps Luke pinned there until the struggles cease and then drops him contemptuously. Luke rolls on his side, choking
and clutching his throat. Naylor kicks him over on to his back then kneels and wrenches those big dark thighs open, before yanking off the condom and sinking his teeth brutally into the man’s cock.
Luke can’t scream; his throat is too bruised. He makes a horrible breathy squeaking noise in which terror and pain are mixed. Then he inhales and does it again, but this time the sound has changed. His back arches, his hips buck, his hands drum and clutch at the boards. He’s coming; I know he’s coming; his orgasm is being wrenched out of him by a force stronger than anything imaginable as Naylor feeds, slurping down without distinction his seed and his blood.
When Naylor finally sits back, Luke touches his genitals like he’s amazed to find them still there. His cock looks bloated and turgid, and his balls are drawn up tight to his groin. And he’s crying with shock: tears stand in his eyes and run down over his scarred cheeks. But he doesn’t make a sound.
‘Get up,’ grunts Naylor, standing. And Luke obeys, abashed and shaking.
Like the beam of a lighthouse, the vampire’s attention switches back to me. ‘Enjoy the show, Jo? I hope you took the opportunity to rest.’
I’m going to need every second of my brief respite, I realise. Luke’s hand is already moving over his swollen prick, trying to soothe an itch of sexual desperation that’s building in his poisoned flesh. Mark is stabbing at my ass from behind, panting with impatience. And Naylor’s cock is standing as proud as ever. He’s as beautiful and virile as a pagan god on a museum postcard. Three men, all with rock-hard cocks, all able to go for hours. And all now looking at me.
* * *
When I wake up, underneath that horrid quilt, it’s daylight and they’ve all gone. I open gummed-up eyes and lie there for a while without thinking and then, when I dare, I start cautiously to take stock. My whole body aches; every muscle, every orifice. My jaw feels like I’ve been chewing through industrial rubber. My mouth is dry and tastes of cum, and my hands smell of it too – as well as of my own pussy. That particular part of my body feels bloated and tender, and my thighs are stuck together with semi-dry spunk. My ass twinges, raw, as I clench my bottom; now that the effects of Naylor’s bite have worn off I can feel the abused tissues again.
Red Grow the Roses Page 21