‘Do it in her face,’ he grunted. ‘She loves that, right in her face.’
Jeff reached out, grabbing Lily’s hair. She went with the pressure, his erection slipping from her mouth, wet with saliva, a single strand still hanging between the glossy head and her lip. He took it, jerking the shaft as Lily tried to turn her head, too late, as he ejaculated a thick mass of come full into her face. Her mouth came open in wordless protest, only to receive his second spurt. His grip tightened and he pulled her head around, pushing his erection back into her mouth to finish off, fucking her throat as she gagged and jerked on his cock.
‘Nice,’ Jeff groaned as Lily struggled to accommodate him.
‘Swallow it, you little bitch, swallow it all,’ Ed grated, feeling himself start to come as Lily pulled slowly back from Jeff’s cock.
He saw her throat work and knew she had done it, swallowing her filthy mouthful in meek obedience to his order. Reaching out, he grabbed her hair, pulling her around even as his cock slipped from her slimy vagina. She turned, her soiled face screwed up, her eyes shut, her mouth a tight line with sperm bubbling from either side. He put his cock close, pressing it to her lips and they came apart, revealing the interior of her mouth, sticky with strings of white sperm. Jerking hard, he aimed his erection at her open mouth, felt himself come and saw it spurt from the end in an arc of viscous white, catching one eye and her nose as well as going into her mouth. As Jeff had done, he thrust his cock inside as he came, finishing off in the warm, wet cavity of her throat and ignoring the bubbling, choking noises she was making as he did it.
She was filthy, utterly soiled, her lips pouted around his shaft, still sucking it. Come smeared her face, one thick blob shutting an eye, more smeared on one cheek, thick streamers of it hanging from her nose and chin, her hair dirty, her top fouled. Ed grinned, a feeling of raw power running through him at what he had made her do, at how he had controlled her and made her suck two cocks and take two men’s sperm in her face. Only as he stood back did he realise that she had begun to masturbate.
‘Get your fingers out of there, you little tart,’ he growled.
It was too late. Lily was coming, sobbing brokenly in her ecstasy. Ed slapped her face but her moans only deepened while his hand came away sticky with his own come. She was sobbing and whimpering, crying too, thick, oily tears squeezing out from her eyes to add to the filthy mess of her face as she came, over and over, whispering his name in a hoarse croak again and again.
On a bench overlooking the sea, Thomazina sat, happily munching fish from an open newspaper. The chips she flicked away, over the sea wall to the beach, where a group of seagulls had gathered to enjoy her bounty. The tide had just begun to ebb, coloured lights reflecting from the calm surface of the sea, showing Tawmouth front in distorted mirror image. To her left the pier pushed out into the sea, ablaze with light, the music of the amusements and arcades blending to discordant noise. A couple approached, whispering urgently, only for their conversation to pause as they passed her. For a moment the man’s eyes met hers, moving quickly to her breasts to earn a mild rebuke from his girlfriend. Tammy smiled and took the last bite of her fish.
She rose, stretched and pushed her newspaper into a litter bin. Her face set into a determined frown as she studied a poster plastered to one of the lamp-posts that illuminated the front. It showed a picture of the Wythman, or what she supposed was intended to be the Wythman, along with dancers and symbols. It announced the solstice party and also a name, DJ/MC Topher Knight. Clearly he was someone important, and the girl she had asked had said he was most likely to be found at the Black Joke pub.
Making her way through Tawmouth, she found the Black Joke in a street behind what had been the harbour before the modern docks were built. It was familiar, the black beams and high gables provoking a sense of nostalgia, a sense destroyed the instant she pushed open the door. Noise hit her, conversation blended with loud music, also the scents of sweet-smelling smoke, perfume and beer. The single long room was crowded, filled to capacity with young people, clad in black like herself, in rich dark colours, in drab khakis and greens.
Pushing her way to the bar, she drew one of the notes Mr Hobbers had given her from her pocket, holding it up in imitation of the man beside her. One of the barmaids approached, the man calling out a request for beer. Thomazina watched and listened, noting the way the beer was served. As the barmaid returned with the man’s change, Thomazina caught her eye.
‘A pint,’ she called out, ‘and please could you tell me where I might find Mr Knight, Mr Topher Knight?’
The barmaid gave her a peculiar look but shouted back over the noise as she took Thomazina’s money and jerked her thumb upwards.
‘Upstairs bar, black guy with the locks.’
Taking her beer, Thomazina made for the stairs, wondering what part of her behaviour had caused the barmaid surprise. The stair was to one side, rising to a room much like the one below, if marginally less noisy and crowded. Nobody was black, nor was there anybody with locks, although one or two had chains. One man, however, had skin of a dark, glossy brown and hair set into thick strands, not unlike the tentacles of an octopus, a style she felt appropriate for the solstice organiser. He was clearly of some importance anyway, lolling back in an armchair and very much the centre of attention of a group.
As she approached, she realised that the girl to his left was the one whose clothes she had taken. Telling herself that it was hardly an unusual style, she kept on, approaching the man and returning his questioning look with her brightest smile.
‘Mr Topher Knight?’ she asked.
He nodded, his eyes meeting hers, flicking down to the broad expanse of her chest, then up again. His smile widened and he patted a stool to one side, asking her name.
‘Tammy,’ she answered.
‘Topher,’ he answered, ‘but I like ‘‘Mr Topher Knight’’ — it sounds good. Maybe I’ll use it.’
‘May I ask if you are the organiser for the solstice party?’ she asked.
‘Just the MC, darling.’
‘MC?’
‘I’m on the mike. Ronnie here’s your man.’
He nodded to another of the group, a tall man, thin, with a sharp face and sandy hair. Thomazina smiled again and shook the offered hand.
‘I would like to make a request, if I may,’ she said. ‘Here is something to pay for perhaps some cider, or beer if you prefer, and some friends and I would like to dance on the barrow.’
‘The local Bill want to keep us off the actual barrow,’ Ronnie began, then stopped as Thomazina spread a fan of twenty-pound notes out on the table.
‘Bill will understand, I’m sure,’ she said. ‘Doesn’t he like dancing?’
‘Not Sergeant Perkins,’ Topher put in. ‘He’s a regular, grade-one arsehole.’
‘He did his best to close us down,’ Ronnie added. ‘Still, maybe later on. How many of you are there? What are you actually going to do?’
‘We will be four,’ Thomazina answered. ‘The dance is for the pleasure of the crowd, like a music-hall dance, a burlesque.’
‘Like an old-fashioned cabaret?’ Ronnie queried. ‘That’s not really our —’
‘Let her do it,’ Topher cut in. ‘What, so you dress up in cancan gear?’
‘No, no,’ Thomazina answered. ‘We must be naked.’
‘Naked! Hey, can you see Jeff Perkins’s face?’
The others laughed and Thomazina smiled in response.
‘Do it!’ Ronnie called. ‘I reckon they’ll find a way to ban us next year anyhow. Let’s go out with a splash!’
The others chorused agreement, Ronnie taking up the money from the table and asking for fresh orders from the bar. Topher made introductions, including the girl whose clothes Thomazina had on, Yasmin, who responded with an uncertain smile.
Lying in Nich’s arms after being brought to orgasm beneath his tongue, Violet felt tired and content. She was drifting towards sleep and wondering if she would dream of his g
od. It was early, yet after an evening of vigorous sex both had decided on sleep, with the unspoken expectation that the night may bring more than simple rest. Now, with her body absolutely at ease, her senses slipped slowly away, her last thoughts of the warm breeze on the barrow, Nich’s embrace, and sea stretching away to the horizon, twinkling blue in the sunlight, cool and welcoming…
When she turned, the barrow was there, as before, only open, with men standing around a wide black aperture that led down into the earth. She walked forward, puzzled, addressing a question to a man in clerical dress, his face red and half hidden beneath thick whiskers and greying hair. He answered her in outrage, pointing to her purple underwear, calling her a harlot and a temptress, demanding that she kneel, that the other men around take her and beat her.
She responded in anger, accusing him of hypocrisy, of seeking to deny her sexuality, charges that only led his face to grow redder as a half-dozen brawny workmen closed in on her. They took her arms, pulling her back as the priest drew a slim black volume from his pocket. She was pushed to the ground, forced into a kneeling position, face to the sea, her back and out thrust bottom towards the open mouth of the barrow.
The priest began to chant, sanctimonious words, begging for her forgiveness from his god and her acceptance of what was about to be done to her. Rough hands took her bra, wrenching the strap until it broke and her breasts fell bare into the bright sunlight. Laughter greeted the sight, earning a rebuke from the priest and the instruction that although it was right to strip her for the sake of her shame it should be done with decorum. Violet protested, calling them abusers, only to have her arms twisted yet more tightly and the grip in her hair redouble, forcing her to push her bottom out.
A tight grip fastened in her panties, too, at either side, holding them so that she knew they could be tugged down at any instant. The men began to count, one, two, three, and her panties had been wrenched down, baring her bottom as the priest once more chided the rough men for taking too much pleasure in their work. The biggest of them made a gruff apology and began to loosen his belt, then to pull the thick strap of blackened leather slowly from his trousers.
Kneeling, held, naked bar the pathetic scrap of purple cotton that linked her thighs, Violet struggled to free herself, finding her limbs sluggish, reluctant to move, let alone break the powerful masculine grip that kept her in position. She was to be beaten and she could do nothing, not even hide the rudeness of the view she was presenting to the men. The man with the belt walked around her, lifting it, chuckling as he watched the fear and panic in her eyes.
It came down, slapping on her naked flesh, making her body jerk again and again as she was beaten to the droning chant of the priest’s voice. She tried to cry out, to beg for mercy, to apologise, swearing she would have dressed properly if only she had known, demanding to know why her underwear was so indecent anyway. They took no notice, laughing at her as her buttocks danced to the smacks of the belt, the priest no longer interceding, until her will broke and she began to scream and writhe, her body still refusing to obey the commands of her mind.
The priest stopped chanting, and as he did so the whipping stopped, leaving her sweaty and dishevelled in their grip, panting and groaning in her pain. He gave her a smile, cold and tight, with neither warmth nor pity, coughed and in a quiet, half-ashamed voice stated his intention of turning his back while the workmen raped her. She screamed, writhing in futile effort against their strength, cursing the priest, naming him a hypocrite, a violator, a torturer, cursing his religion and calling on the barrow god in a voice cracking with despair and self-pity.
A cruel smile twisted the face of the man who had beaten her. Taking her hair from his companion, he forced her head up, making her watch as he began to unbutton his fly. His trousers bulged beneath it, hinting at genitals of obscene, monstrous proportions. Her gaze went up, meeting his eyes, hoping for some faint spark of human decency but finding only cruelty and lust. He laughed down at her, the sound broken by a wet smacking from behind and cut off abruptly. His face changed, harsh, merciless passion vanishing to an expression of terror, of blind panic as he stumbled backwards, tripping, to run screaming as something firm and wet touched Violet’s naked bottom…
She woke with a start, gulping in air and fighting down the urge to scream. The realisation that it was only a dream came quickly, and with it the memory that she had hoped to dream, only a dream very different from the ghastly nightmare she had experienced.
Yasmin let her weight lean on the arm on Topher Knight, her pleasure rising at the feel of his firm muscles. She was giggling with drink, full of arousal and mischief at the prospect of what was doubtless in store for her. Nich had asked her to do her best to gain the man’s confidence, but from the moment she had met him she had been determined to take it further. It had begun well, Topher responding coolly but enthusiastically to her open flirting, only for the girl Tammy to appear and quickly draw his attention. She had known he preferred full-figured girls and had thought her own voluptuous curves would give her every advantage, but Tammy was yet more curvaceous, certainly bustier and perhaps with a narrower waist.
She had risen to the challenge, kissing Topher and stroking his thigh, only to have Tammy do the same but allow her hand to stray to the crotch of his trousers. He had refused to show favour to either, revelling in their attention and the all too obvious envy of the other men at the table. Yasmin had quickly realised that his intention was to get them both into bed at the same time, and with that had come an idea for how to get her own way.
Leaning close, she had whispered into his ear that she would be more than happy to have a threesome, knowing full well that her willingness to accept the idea would give her an unassailable advantage over her rival, whatever really happened. Having gained the advantage, she had leaned across to Tammy, putting the proposition in Topher’s hearing range. Twice she had tried the trick before. Both times her rivals had been shocked, leaving them looking prudish and winning her the man. Tammy had smiled and kissed her.
Realising that he was going to get what he wanted, Topher had acted fast, walking from the Black Joke with an arm around each girl and leaving a trail of envious stares in his wake. Now, in the cool night they were walking through the streets of Tawmouth, the girls nuzzled to his sides as he led them along the front. His hotel proved to be the Royal, once fine, now somewhat decayed, which they entered at the back, giggling guiltily as they climbed the stairs to his room.
Inside she threw herself on to the bed, her head spinning. Topher moved to the bar, Tammy coming beside Yasmin, kneeling and pulling up her top. The bra came with it, revealing huge pink breasts considerably larger than her own and crowned with big, rose-pink nipples. Topher gave a grunt of appreciation as he stood from the bar and Yasmin quickly peeled up her own top, determined not to be outdone.
‘You are beautiful,’ Tammy said as Yasmin peeled. ‘I love your skin.’
Tammy reached out, stroking Yasmin’s flesh, on her neck, down one breast and on to a nipple, making the bud stiffen in response. Yasmin shivered, fighting down a touch of shyness. Tammy was looking down at her with obvious pleasure, feeling a breast, a gesture that made it very obvious their sex would not be confined to satisfying Topher.
He was pouring drinks, spilling some as he watched the two topless girls. Yasmin’s breasts were in Tammy’s hands, both nipples hard. She sighed, arching her back to push them out, her last reservations vanishing in the pleasure of having her breasts felt with such casual intimacy. Tammy giggled and came down, their mouths meeting in an open kiss, big, soft breasts pressing together, their arms going around one another.
‘Hey, wait for the man,’ Topher demanded as he reached the bed, setting the drinks down beside it.
Yasmin reached a hand out and squeezed his crotch, finding a bulge of satisfying size beneath the denim. He grinned as she began to tug down his fly, Tammy turning to watch. His shirt came off as his zip slid down and her hand burrowed into his fly, pul
ling out a thick, dark cock. Shuffling forward, he offered it to her mouth, only to have Tammy gulp it quickly in and start to suck. Yasmin pressed her face close, kissing his cock where it disappeared between Tammy’s lips. Tammy pulled back, letting the thick, rapidly hardening penis slip into Yasmin’s mouth.
For a while they shared, stroking each other’s body as they sucked his cock, stopping only when he was rock-hard, his erection rearing from his fly, a good nine inches of fat, black penis. Yasmin took it in hand, finding to her pleasure that her fingers failed to meet around the shaft. Tammy had knelt back and was undoing her trousers, fumbling with the button in her haste.
Together, Yasmin and Topher watched Tammy strip, revealing broad hips, a softly rounded belly and a thick bush of jet-black hair between chubby, girlish thighs. Her flesh was ivory-smooth and very pale, in keeping with her complexion, making Yasmin wonder just how old she was. Nude, Tammy crawled up the bed, reaching for the cock that Yasmin had been stroking as she stripped. Yasmin let go, making short work of her own trousers and panties while Tammy kept him ready.
Both naked, they rolled together, feeling the full curves of each other’s figures, exploring plump breasts and bottoms, kissing mouths and nipples as Topher rapidly completed the removal of his clothes. Yasmin was beneath Tammy, two huge breasts lolling in her face, her hands on the girl’s bottom, feeling the full, meaty cheeks and holding them wide, knowing that it made a thoroughly rude and tempting display of both pussy and bottom hole. Tammy responded, sinking into Yasmin’s embrace with her bottom lifted, an obvious target to which Topher was not slow to respond.
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