by Nicole Dere
The German girl had stripped off her clothing below the waist. With her shirt hanging loose, she straddled her victim, seized that thick column in her fist and guided it to her cunt, which descended and impaled itself upon that erect weapon until it had disappeared entirely inside her. She rode him furiously, her transformed face aflame with passion, humping down on the black form in a frenzy of sexual hunger, and it wasn’t long before she gave a great cry of fulfilment. She ground herself in a last violent spasm against him while the convulsive shudders of a climax tore through her, and then she groaned and toppled sideways onto the bed, dragging herself clear, exposing again that still impressive penis, whose length gleamed now with the coating of their combined fluids.
Chapter 13
We were frozen into immobility while Krista sat slumped on the edge of the bed, her bent shoulders heaving. I could hear the laboured breathing of the two chained men, the only sound in the room, until Krista dragged herself to her feet, swore vituperatively in German, scooped up her discarded clothing, and stormed out without a glance in our direction. Jane slowly picked herself up from the floor, and almost absently, our fingers traced the stinging weals dissecting our buttocks and the backs of our thighs. We gazed at each other in mute shock and consternation, glancing at the open door, and then at the two trussed figures on the bed.
My mind was racing in overdrive, and Jane’s thoughts were close behind. These men were clearly prisoners, like us, so it didn’t need any great leap of imagination to deduce that they must be hostages from the plane the same as us. And from this conclusion came the next bizarre thought.
‘Jack?’ I whispered, appalled. Surely that modest specimen of a male penis could not belong to my husband? I was overwhelmed with the awful realisation that, very possibly, I could not even recognise my own husband’s penis.
‘Jack?’ I repeated, a little more loudly. ‘Are you… is that you…?’ At my words, the taller figure began to struggle, so that the short chains securing him to the bed rattled and clinked. But I still could not be sure it was him. Was this writhing his way of confirming my suspicions? I bent close, and realised from the muffled noises coming from behind that faceless mask that he was very effectively gagged.
Meanwhile, Jane had approached the other, smaller figure. She glanced over at me, her eyes large, the tears spilling from them, and I knew at once that she had recognised her husband. Well, I thought with unfair sarcasm, if Jack had a dick like that I would know him too.
Her soft voice was tentative as she whispered his name, but she knew it was all right, I could tell. She laid a hand on his thigh. ‘Carl, are you all right?’ she asked. ‘I daren’t do anything. Krista will be back in a minute. Just lie still for a while longer.’
A convulsive shudder passed through his frame and he began to snuffle, his chest rising and falling violently in what was clearly a fit of weeping. Jane looked at me again, her own tears falling plentifully, in an agony of appeal, but just then Krista returned, once more dressed immaculately, though her cheeks showed telltale spots of colour which owed nothing to make-up.
‘Well, girls, have you got to know our guests yet?’ she mocked. ‘I think maybe you have an idea, yes? Why do you not find out for sure? You will see there are fastenings at the back of the neck. Go on, you have my permission, and I am sure they will be relieved to be out of those things. They must be sweating like the pigs they are.
‘But no,’ she stopped us abruptly as we moved to obey her at once, ‘keep to your partners, yes? The ones you are already so well acquainted with.’
Cruelly, she made us swap, so that I was dealing with the slender figure I had sucked to completion, while Jane dealt with the other – the one she had aroused, the one Krista had fucked, the one I suspected was my Jack.
The hoods were the first to come off. They were attached around the neck by a zip fastener, and we had to peel them off the gasping victims, not without difficulty.
But the flushed and sweating face I revealed came as a great shock to me. I had anticipated the green tape wadded firmly over his lips, but what shocked me so much that I gasped aloud was the white, shaven skull.
I glanced across and saw, with another shock even though I had prepared myself for it, the features of my husband Jack, who amazingly managed a smile and a wink when our eyes met for the first time in three eventful months. I instinctively leaned towards him, but there was a singing hiss behind me and a ripple of fire kissed my back and shoulders as Krista lashed me. I pulled back and returned to my task, sobbing as I did so, which was to continue stripping the clinging costume from the slim body of Jane’s husband, Carl.
To get the suits off them Krista had to unlock the chains, and then a further surprise awaited us, for as I peeled away the soaking garment I saw that the whole of Carl’s body had been totally shaved of hair so that his skin was as smooth as alabaster.
Another swift glance across at Jack reassured me he had not been subjected to a similar indignity. His hair, unkempt and lank with sweat, was thankfully still adorning his head, and all his body hair seemed to have remained untouched.
The two men eased themselves stiffly into a sitting position, and massaged the red circlets of chafed flesh at their wrists and ankles that betokened their hours of bondage. I noted almost despairingly that neither Jack nor Carl showed any signs of resistance. They did not even remove the gagging tape from their mouths. That was left for us to do, upon Krista’s nod of permission, of course.
‘There now, how sweet,’ she mocked. All four of us were now huddled close on the bed, yet we were afraid to embrace in case we should incur her displeasure. ‘I will leave you to get reacquainted. This will be your new home.’ She waved towards the door. ‘You have freedom here, and there is a boy who will do the cooking and the cleaning. You will be safe here, but just one thing to remember; there are guards all round the place, so any attempt to escape and you will be shot on the spot. Understand?’ And then, with a final patronising wag of her finger, she left us, and we sat without moving or speaking until we heard her voice outside, the slam of a vehicle door, and its engine’s departing roar.
The history of what had happened to the men after we were segregated was learned piece by piece, gradually, over many conversations and reflections in the days that followed our reunion. To our amazement, those days extended into weeks, and then months.
At first, the men had been treated rather better than we were. They were not humiliated as we had been. Not in general, that is, but there had been exceptions. It was, as I have said, over many days and nights of whispered confessions that the picture of these events emerged. Tearfully compelled by her own need for the catharsis of sharing her secret, Jane told me one night how Carl had been picked out by one of the hijackers, and forced to perform fellatio on him. As she sobbed out her tortured tale, I could visualise all too clearly the whirl of conflicting emotions surging through Carl’s reeling mind as he knelt there sucking another man. He claimed, when he confessed to Jane what had happened to him, that it was the first time he had performed such an act, and for all I know he may have been telling the truth. But if it was so, I am sure it was merely the realisation of many such secretly fantasised scenarios from adolescence onwards – exactly as Jane’s encounter with Krista beneath the nose of the plane had been for her. Disturbed he might have been, but thrilled he certainly was, I would bet my life on it. My first study of Carl’s slender, naked frame, his delicate good looks, and his not bad, but also not very impressive penis, convinced me that this was one confused guy, whether he was prepared to admit it or not.
By the time we came together at the bungalow, his relationship with the hijacker was no secret any more. Jack told me how quickly it had become common knowledge that Carl was servicing his male captor. And it wasn’t just blowjobs he was delivering, either. There were times when Carl would come hobbling back, his backside covered in the weals and bruises that indicated the sadistic pleasure his captor was taking in beating him.
As I said, it was a long time before the full picture came out, including the shameful body-shave the loathsome hijacker, in front of several of his cronies, had inflicted upon his chosen victim. And yet the truth is that in those first heady hours of being reunited, I was far too preoccupied with Jack to have any thoughts, one way or the other, about Carl.
Chapter 14
When Krista returned some days later she was with Khotan, the one who had clearly been the leader of the initial hijack. For the next few days they spent the nights at the compound, but they were away during daylight hours.
And then one morning the houseboy called us for breakfast at the civilised hour of eight o’clock. We all six took breakfast around the dining table, with the houseboy serving the simple but substantial meal. We were all somewhat flustered by Khotan’s presence with Krista, and the sinister fact that we still had no real idea of who they were, or what they wanted from us, added to our unease.
Khotan was an unknown quantity – and a very dangerous unknown quantity, that much was for certain.
He chatted easily enough, and had an urbane manner that made me even more aware of my nakedness. Yet his features gave away nothing of his real thoughts, even when the dark eyes passed over the unavoidable fact of our nudity, and we did not initiate conversation, but waited to be addressed and answered only direct questions with direct answers.
So when he casually announced that we were the only hostages left, that the others had all been safely released and gone home, we stiffened with shock and dread, unable to respond, and waited tensely for further enlightenment.
‘So we have more time to devote to you,’ Krista said, smiling – a smile that made my flesh crawl. But her next words were addressed to a mortified Jane only. ‘And you in particular,’ she said. ‘I have neglected you so much lately, yes? You poor darling.’ She glanced pointedly at Carl’s pale form, and in particular at his dormant penis. ‘I dare say you have been missing our fun together,’ she sneered at her, ‘with nothing to replace me.’ She laughed and turned her gaze on me. ‘Especially since dear Moira here has been too busy with her man to bother with you the way she used to.’
She got up, moved round the table and tousled Jane’s hair. ‘Come with me now, and I will make it up to you. I have an hour or so free. Excuse us, won’t you?’ She smiled round at us, and then without another word she guided the scarlet-faced Jane up from her chair, and led her out of the room.
The three of us who were left avoided one another’s gaze in an agony of embarrassment. Then Khotan gave a quiet chuckle, and I flinched as he reached out and laid his hand casually over my wrist. ‘In turn, I must ask you to excuse me also, gentlemen,’ he stated. ‘I will see you later.’ He lifted my arm, and rather clumsily I struggled up from my chair. But I did nothing to object or resist. I said nothing, and I kept my head down and swallowed the choking lump in my throat as I was led over the cool floor towards the bedrooms.
Chapter 15
I stood like a little girl in the middle of his room. It was as simply furnished as ours, and the narrow single bed against the wall made the room seem even barer perhaps than the prisoner’s quarters, strangely enough. The tears welled up in my eyes, and then trickled down my face. Automatically, I had folded my hands in front of my pubes in a pathetic gesture of coyness he did not fail to notice. His smile made me cringe with shame.
‘Come now, no need for tears,’ he said. ‘I am simply going to fuck you, not hurt you.’ I gaped at him. His harsh words were like a slap in the face. ‘And you do not need to pretend to be shocked, Mrs Kinsella. I know how much you like to fuck and be fucked. I know about you and Krista, and you and Mrs Freeman. And I also know about you and the president,’ he added. ‘Yes, you like to fuck. Like all the other degenerate westerners I have met. So come, do what you like to do best and what you are so very good at.’ He lay back on the narrow bed, his arms folded behind his head, and I knew what I had to do, and shamefully, without even an attempt at a protest, I obeyed him.
I moved slowly to kneel beside the bed. Teasingly, I drew down the zip of his fly, eased my fingers into the fold, and felt the pulsing shape of his cock within its tight concealment. I could just glimpse his underwear; black, but I could find no opening. I rubbed the outline of his stirring penis, felt the dome shape, the uncoiling length of his stiffening column. I let my fingers trace the shaft, and the smooth swell of his balls beneath it. Despite the awful predicament I was in, I could not help but secretly acknowledge how impressively it grew beneath my palm and fingers. I found the elastic of his briefs and plucked at the tightness, allowing the swollen head to emerge, like an animal from its lair. My fingertips were immediately slick with the slight discharge that came from the throbbing helm. I pushed down on the resisting material more determinedly, and at last the elastic dipped and the hotly fecund penis, together with its heavy testicles, came spilling over the edge of the skimpy garment.
He grunted, lifted his hips, and assisted me in easing down his trousers. I paused to slip off his shoes, and the light cotton socks, before removing his trousers altogether. I forced myself not to rush, not to be clumsy or timid. I would make damned sure he could not criticise me for not living up to the expectations he clearly had of me, and my sexual skills!
His prick was lolling now over the black material of his briefs. The rich bush of his black pubes, and the narrow line of hairs climbing up towards his belly button, stood out against the olive tone of his skin, and despite my loathing of the man and what he had, and was still, putting us all through, I felt the inner wetness of my own excitement deepening.
Carefully I slipped his underpants off, and then I reached up, and very slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Once again he assisted me, sitting up so that I could slide it from his smooth shoulders and place it carefully on top of the rest of his discarded clothing. The flat of my hands pressed against his chest, pushing him back onto the pillow. I lifted myself so that I hung over him, my red hair tumbling down to spill profusely over his flat stomach, against which I held his beautiful, pulsing penis, drinking in the intoxicating sexual odour of it.
With a shiver of delight I bent from the waist, grasped the warm column at the base of its swollen helm, and pushed firmly down, stretching the skin towards his balls, seeing the blood rush anew into the gleaming glans. I lapped gingerly at it, shivered again with that unique mixture of fear and desire at the sharp taste of his fluid, and then my tongue, bolder now, caressed the length of the throbbing column, and sucked in all the wonderful essence of his manhood that my body increasingly craved. I was close to coming, waiting only for the fulfilment of making love to this splendid creature who was consuming me with need.
Somehow I forced myself to cling to some measure of control. I climbed on the bed, straddled his thighs, but kept myself from lowering myself to meet that resplendent, rearing prick. Instead I lifted my bottom and dipped my head to his magnificent tool, licked and nibbled hungrily from the damp sac of his balls, up every millimetre of that vibrant column, and back to the swell of his smooth helm. I grasped him hard by the base of his shaft and stretched my lips wide, my hair tossing like wild flames about him as I strove to take as much of him as I could into my straining, worshipping mouth.
Then I jerked back as his hands fastened on my shoulders and he turned me with ease, we rolled over, his thighs still inside mine. The breath was crushed from my lungs, his body pressing down on mine, sandwiching me between himself and the bed, and he penetrated me with one powerful thrust. My knees lifted in an instinctive effort to ease the drive of his flesh to my very centre. He rutted on top of me, consumed by his need to fuck me, until he gritted his teeth and exploded with a shattering force.
The shock and the fury of it had taken me by surprise, snatched and tossed me from my own private sensual fantasy into the whirlwind of his lust. Now, at the surging flood that claimed me, my own basic instinct shattered my senses and I responded, intent only on impaling myself on that elemental savagery, soaring
with him, part of that whirlwind with him. I climbed, swept up like a graceful bird to the summit, hovered, and then burst into the brilliance of coming – timelessly, endlessly, so that I shuddered and clutched at him, screamed for such intensity to end, and screamed for it to go on for ever…
‘You see, you are a very good fuck, I told you so.’ His words penetrated my mind’s drifting, and then I was alone on the bed. I heard him enter the shower next door, and then he was soon back, with a towel wrapped about his hips. ‘Get cleaned up, and then get back to your husband,’ he ordered coldly, and I crawled obediently away.
And the worst part of the episode was having to go back to the living room. I felt sullied and degraded, even though I tried to tell myself I was being ridiculous. In the past Jack had actively conspired in my fucking with other men, had actually watched me doing it on more than one occasion, so why should I feel so guilty and ashamed now? My answer was that, on all those other occasions it had been our choice. This time we were both totally helpless, compelled to go along with whatever our captors chose to do with us, or to us. And with this came the even more disturbing realisation that this utter submission was a powerful element in the sexual excitement my body was deriving from all this, an aphrodisiac headier than any I had previously known. It was an avenue I did not wish to explore further.
Uncannily in tune with my state of mind, Jack spoke to me as soon as I returned. ‘All right, love?’ he asked, staring closely and bright-eyed at me, the hint of a challenge in his look and his voice. ‘Give him what he wanted, I hope?’ he went on without too much conviction. ‘We’ve got to keep the bugger sweet, eh? Especially now, when we’re all they’ve got left.’