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Introduction:

Three uninvited guests join a pair of honeymooners and manage to make it an unforgettable time.
THE HONEYMOON OF RICK AND MICHELLE



Rick and Michelle splashed happily in the surf on the small desert island. They were on the first full day of their honeymoon, and had eyes only for each other. They were oblivious to the handful of other people who were scattered up and down the seemingly endless beach, as well to the three men who carefully watched them from the protection of the thick grove of coconut trees that bordered the narrow beach.
Rick and Michelle had arrived late the night before after an exhausting trip that had been delayed due to snows in New York. “Remind me to never get married in the winter again,” Michelle had joked. The eighteen hour journey had come the day after an equally exhausting day that included hair stylists in the morning, the wedding in the afternoon, and a reception into the wee hours. Rick and Michelle both had relatives who liked their booze.
They had been too drunk after the reception to make love on their first night as husband and wife, and too dead tired upon finally reaching their resort hotel’s bungalow style room to do anything but crash on the second night. They had slept late this morning, and Rick awakened with a huge boner which he pressed against Michelle’s back as he rolled tightly against her. “Ummm, what is THAT, Mr. Adams?” she had said demurely, stirring slightly as she came out of a deep sleep.
“THAT, Mrs. Adams, is your first wifely duty as a married woman. It is your official responsibility to make that which is hard, soft again.”
Rick tried to roll Michelle onto her back—they had both slept naked with the air conditioner turned off and only a bright, white sheet covering them. Michelle laughed. “My wifely duty, huh?” She ripped the sheet off them and jumped to a kneeling position beside her husband, who laid back with a big smile on his face, and a huge, swollen cock sticking in the air, expecting to receive a blow job. It always amazed him, after having slept with Michelle for several months before the wedding, how quickly she could come out of a deep sleep and be ready for any sort of action.
Michelle did lean over and lift up her newly wed husband’s penis so that it stuck straight up in the air, and then kissed the tip of it, her long blonde hair cascading over his chest and thighs. But she gave it just a quick peck. In an instant she jumped from the bed and stood there, nude, smiling at her confused husband. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she said coyly. “You will get more wifely attention than you can handle, believe me. But come on! Let’s go check out the hotel and the beach first! I’m dying to eat something and see this place we heard so much about! And some SUN!”
“Come on sweetie, give me a quickie first, I’m so horny I’m going to explode!”
Michelle had already pulled a skimpy bikini from her suitcase and was stepping into the bottom part. It was a flesh colored affair—Michelle’s flesh color being somewhat tanner than the show white she would have been without those several sessions at the tanning salon in her snowbound northern hometown (which she knew were not good for her but she was more interested in looking tanned at her wedding than in worrying about the health effect of tanning salons)—and much skimpier than anything she would have dared wear at home. With the bottom part of the tiny bikini now wiggled into place, and with the top dangling seductively from her fingers, Michelle put her hands behind her head and gave a long, luxurious stretch. Her husband’s wild eyes devoured her 5’7” body. Her breasts were a healthy 36C, but hours of tennis and aerobics had sculpted the rest of her, including her long, shapely legs, into a sleek athletic specimen. “After the beach you can fuck this all day if you want.” This was said with a voice that left no doubt that her words were sincere.
They now frolicked in the sand, occasionally diving into the shallow, warm water that came in mild, gentle waves. This was after a light, continental breakfast and a leisurely stroll around the premises of the small but nicely appointed beach resort that her best friend had convinced her she MUST go to on her honeymoon. From her first impressions, at least, Michelle was tending to agree with her friend. The bungalow style rooms, which she found very romantic, were scattered sparsely, and very privately, around the hotel’s grounds. When Rick told her over breakfast that she would be able to scream during sex without the fear of anyone hearing her, she giggled and squeezed his hand hard.
Rick chased Michelle, whose long blonde hair was pinned up, into the waist high surf. “NO!” she shrieked as her husband caught her from behind, wrestled playfully with her, and then dunked her in the water. She came up laughing and, grasping her husband by the top of his shoulders, proceeded to dunk him, as well.
The three men hidden in the coconut grove were watching them quite carefully. One of them, a muscular blond who looked like the prototypical young, well tanned surfer dude, was studying the honeymooners with binoculars. “The bitch looks like Heidi Klum,” he said, squinting into the binoculars that followed the woman’s every movement on the beach and in the surf. “Only hotter.”
“Here, let me see,” said one of his friends, a black young man with a shaved head and arms the size of telephone poles and abs as solid as a brick wall. He took the glasses and adjusted them for his vision. “I dunno,” he said under his breath. “I’d say she’s more like Charlize Theron.” The binoculars followed Michelle closely as she cavorted on the beach with her husband. “My oh my,” he continued as he watched her intently. “How I would LOVE to have me some of that vanilla pussy!”
The third young man, of a more slender build than the other two, with short, dark hair and a fair complexion, said nothing and never asked for the binoculars. He was carefully watching the honeymooners, too, but he had already seen everything he had needed to see, up close, when the woman had walked past him and smiled on her way to breakfast with her husband an hour before. The penis inside his baggy shorts was stiff. He grazed it lightly with his hand as he watched the blonde on the beach. He loved the way she looked in the tiny, flesh colored bikini. He loved the way she moved. All he had to do was squint slightly, and it appeared as if she were naked.
The couple was laying side by side on their backs in the sand now, sunning themselves, holding hands, giggling, perhaps realizing for the first time that they were on their HONEYMOON! After a long while Michelle raised up and leaned over to kiss her husband. Their mouths remained locked for an extremely long time, blissfully ignorant of the fact that their heads were filling the view finder of a pair of binoculars fifty feet away.
Michelle, whose head was on top, at last pulled away. Stroking her husband’s scalp, and looking deep into his eyes, she said softly, in words that could almost not be heard against the backdrop of the surf, “Have you ever fucked a married woman, Rick?”
Rick looked up at her. She was smiling and her eyes were flashing. “My boss’s wife,” he said, matter-of-factly. Michelle looked at him with a shocked expression until he laughed out loud and said he was only kidding. Michelle punched him playfully, then, giggling like a school girl, jumped up and started running toward their secluded bungalow.
“Now’s your chance!” she shouted back to him over her shoulder as she ran in the sand. As quickly as he could, Rick was on his feet and running after her. “Damn!” he thought as he failed to gain on her. “She’s FAST!”
The three men watching them were spellbound by the woman’s athletic grace as she ran across the beach. Their necks turned slowly in following her. Their voices were silent. When the couple was out of sight, they turned and looked at each other.
“You in?” asked the surfer dude to the black guy.
“I’m in,” he replied.
They both then looked at the third young man. They did not voice a question to him, but he answered the question implied in their looks. “I’m in,” he said.
Once inside the bungalow, Michelle headed straight for the shower to wash the beach sand off her, while Rick locked the door with the old fashion key—none of those new fangled electronic cards for this place. It annoyed him that the chain lock was missing. He had noticed it when they arrived, and was going to mention it to Maintenance, but it had slipped his mind.
Rick then joined Michelle in the shower. She had stepped out of her bikini and was rinsing the sand from it. They then took turns soaping each other’s bodies. Michelle took special care of her husband’s cock, which swelled to full erection within her hands as she lathered it with plenty of sudsy soap.
After their shower, the nude couple spent little time toweling off before they literally flew onto the bed. Michelle could still feel the warmth of the sun on her skin. The shower had not cooled her off. She felt radiant, beautiful, and the way her husband looked at her, she knew she WAS beautiful.
They engaged in very little foreplay for, in truth, the entire time on the beach, and then the time spent in the shower, had been foreplay enough, and they were both now ready for each other. Michelle gave a playful yelp as her husband rolled her onto her back and spread her long, luscious legs wide apart. “Fuck your WIFE, Rick!” she panted as her husband mounted her. “You’ve never fucked your WIFE! Do something about that!”
Rick needed no encouragement, and no guiding help was required by either of their hands as his penis found the entrance to Michelle’s pussy all by itself. The head of his tool forced apart the lips of his newly wed’s womanhood and entered her to the hilt in one deft, inward thrust. “YES!” Michelle cried as she felt her husband’s penis slide into her. She wrapped her long, athletic legs around him, locking him to her, and again cried: “YES! Yes!!”
Rick suddenly thought he heard a noise and stopped fucking Michelle in mid-stroke. “What is it?” she asked, her voice that of an impatient, horny woman in heat.
“I thought I heard something.”
Michelle smiled up at her husband’s face that hovered above her. “You heard me going crazy!” she laughed, and with that began grinding her pelvis into his.
Rick shrugged off what he thought he head heard and resumed making love to his gorgeous wife who was squirming beneath him, as horny as a woman can possibly be.
Michelle tended to shut her eyes while making love, and this time was no exception. As her husband fucked her, she had her arms and legs wrapped around him with her mouth wide open with her eyes shut in total bliss. It was several long minutes, in fact, before her eyes happened to fluttered open, and when they did, what she saw—three strange men standing by the bed watching her—didn’t register for perhaps three or four seconds. It took her that long before she started screaming.
“What the fuck—” Rick gasped, but before he could say more, one of the men, a blond surfer type, stepped forward and pistol whipped him with the butt end of a Glock G31 pistol.
Rick groaned in pain and fell to his side, rolling off Michelle’s body, his penis withdrawing from her cunt as he did so. Michelle screamed again. Quickly, one of the other men, a black guy who was also holding a Glock G31, pointed the pistol at her and hissed: “One more scream, bitch, and your hubby’s getting’ the shit kicked out of him. Do you fuckin’ HEAR me!?”
Michelle grabbed the bed sheet and covered her nakedness. She pulled the hem of the sheet all the way to her mouth, and in fact stuffed some of it into her mouth as she cried desperately.
“What is this!?” Rick demanded. “Get the hell out of here…” Before he could say more, the surfer landed another solid blow to his head with the butt end of his pistol.
“Shut the fuck up, motherfucker!” he yelled in a deep, ominous voice. Rick rolled in pain on the bed beside his crying wife. He couldn’t voice another protest at this moment even had he wanted, as his head was spinning too much.
“Sorry, guys.” This was the surfer dude talking, still pointing a gun in the direction of the terrified couple on the bed. “Did we interrupt something? That’s so rude of us. We’re sorry.” Gesturing with the gun, he continued: “Go ahead with what you were doing. Go ahead. Don’t pay us any mind.”
Rick was becoming coherent again. He quickly attempted to assess the situation, but he couldn’t get past the two guns being held by two very well built men. It only made matters worse when he realized there was a THIRD man in the room!
“What do you want?” Rick’s voice shook with fear.
“You heard my friend here,” the black guy answered. “He told you to get back to fuckin’ your bitch! Now DO IT, motherfucker or I’ll knock the crap out of HER!”
Michelle yet out another scream at this, but with their bungalow being as secluded as it was, someone would have had to be very close to have had heard. Nevertheless, the intruders had had enough of her screaming. The surfer, with one hand holding his pistol, used his other hand to yank the bed sheet from off Michelle’s nude, trembling body. Her arms instinctively covered her breasts, and her knees pressed tightly together in a reflexive move to hide her private parts. The surfer reached out and grabbed her by the hair. She cried out in pain as the man yanked her head back by the hair, forcing her to look up at him.
“Don’t touch her!” Rick cried. The men ignored him.
“Sweetie,” the surfer said. “I have a knife in my pocket. If you scream one more time I’m going to cut your husband’s cock off and shove it up your mouth, do you understand me?”
Cowering, Michelle could only weep. “I said, do you fucking UNDERSTAND me!?”
Sobbing uncontrollably, Michelle could only nod, which she now did vigorously. The man was unsatisfied with this, and pulled her long blonde hair more forcefully. “Say it, bitch! Let me hear you SAY it!”
“I…I un…der…stand”. She was able to spit this out between violent sobs that wracked her beautiful, naked body. The surfer let go of her hair and Michelle wilted back onto the bed. She told herself that this was just a nightmare. She told herself to wake up! Unfortunately, however, she realized that she was already very much awake. This was real. It was happening. She curled into a fetal position. “Do something, Rick!” she cried. “Please, for the love of god, DO SOMETHING!”
“I…I can’t, baby.” Rick’s voice was anguished. Seeing his beautiful young bride naked before these obviously evil men, and being treated so roughly by them, was killing him, causing him much more pain than the two lumps on his head from the pistol butts. “There’s…there’s three of them, baby. And they have guns.”
“Glad you can count, asshole!” said the surfer.
The third man came over to the bed now. Being the only one of the three men whose both hands were free, he crawled onto the bed and used those hands to grab Michelle by both her ankles. Pulling her legs downward roughly, he brought her out of her fetal position. She resisted, but her strength was no match for his. Rolling her onto her back, he next forced Michele’s long, lovely legs wide apart. Again she resisted, but to no avail. Her instinct was to close her legs again as soon as the man released his grip, but then, jarringly, she found herself staring upward into the round, dark opening of the barrel of one of the Glock G31’s, and she froze instantly. She was suddenly too fear struck to even consider closing her legs, and left them wide open before the three strange men who stood marveling at her naked beauty.
“Will you look at this,” surfer boy said, his voice thick with lust as he stared down at the nude woman spread-eagled before them. “She’s a NATURAL blonde!” As he eyes roamed every inch of her body, he let out a whistle. “What a fucking BABE!”
All three men stood back now, leaving the naked couple, trembling in fear, alone on the bed, the woman on her back, legs still spread, her husband beside her, sitting up, a trickle of blood running down his forehead.
There was silence. Then, the surfer dude: “What are you waiting for, honeymoon boy? You two were going great guns. And look, your bitch’s waiting for you. She’s got her legs spread for you. Let’s see some action.”
Rick stuttered in nervous, incoherent protest.
“Fuck the bitch!” This was the black guy. He leveled his .357 caliber Glock directly at the husband.
It was now Rick’s turn to freeze. He had never had a gun pointed at him before. He had been mugged a couple of times in New York, but those assailants had never shown any weapons. “I…I can’t!” he stuttered. “I’m…” He couldn’t finish. He didn’t have to. His shy downward glance to his shriveled manhood was followed by the three other pair of male eyes in the room.
The three men laughed in unison. “What a small fuckin’ cock!” the black guy spat. “I’ll bet that shit ain’t even big when it’s HARD!”
It was the surfer dude’s turn. “Lay on top of her, sport. Who knows, contact might make it grow.”
Still, Rick hesitated. He shot a furtive look at Michelle. She had remained as she was positioned by the third guy, on her back, legs spread, sobbing softly, her nude body trembling and glistening with the sweat not only of a very warm room but of a very great fear.
“Move it!” the black guy hissed, taking a step toward Rick and brandishing the pistol. Rick no longer hesitated. He crawled on top of his naked wife as ordered. What other choice did he have? The fear in her eyes as he now hovered over her, and the shaking of her entire body as he lowered himself onto her, filled him with great remorse. Hope against hope, he began to pray that perhaps if he did as they ordered—had intercourse with his wife—these evil men would have their perverted wishes satisfied and would leave them be and not touch his beautiful, beloved young bride.
However, despair poured over him as he realized that his penis, due to the circumstances, was, in fact, the size of a worm, and there would be no way he could get it hard enough to do what he had to do.
“Go ahead!” he heard one of the men yell, he didn’t know which one, it didn’t matter. Gamely Rick began dry humping Michelle’s nude stomach as she cried beneath him. The men laughed.
“I’m sorry, baby,” Rick whispered into her ear, but it seemed that Michelle was just staring unseeingly at the ceiling as she wept.
After several minutes of dry humping in this manner—Michelle was lifeless beneath her husband—the third guy got on his knees and peered between the couple’s bodies. He saw a still wormlike penis crushed between them. “This ain’t working,” he reported.
The surfer stepped forward and placed the business end of his pistol against Rick’s temple. “Can you think of any remedies, sweetheart?” he asked of Michelle. Her gaze left the ceiling and met the surfer’s eyes head on. The man actually flinched, even though he was the one holding the gun. He had seen hatred in victims’ eyes before, but there was something particularly chilling about this one.
Michelle hesitated only a second before she pushed Rick up and off her. “Roll over, baby.” Her voice was flat and matter-of-fact. She had apparently run out of tears.
With Rick now on his back, Michelle scooted downward and took her husband’s shriveled phallus between her fingers. “Come on, baby,” she said so softly that the three strangers could not hear her. “The sooner we get this over with the better, baby.”
She squeezed the base of the tiny dick with the fingers of one hand as she took what little rest of it was visible into her mouth. Her long blonde hair, still wet from the shower, fell over her face and was covering her spectators’ view, so the third guy stepped forward and tied her mane into a pony tail that kept it from distracting.
The two men with the guns had pulled chairs up close to the foot of the bed and began watching the scene before them intently. The third man leaned again the wall beside the bed. The lump in his throat was almost as big as the lump in his shorts.
On the bed, Michelle was working intently on her husband’s cock, pressing it between her closed lips and pulling gently on it, like a robin pulling a worm from the ground. One hand remained at the base of the cock as her other began to gently massage his balls. “Come on, baby,” she urged gently. “Work with me. Concentrate on this, not them.”
Gradually her efforts appeared to be having an effect. The three assailants, absorbed by the action on the bed, watched as Rick’s penis grew substantially as Michelle licked it, sucked on it and massaged it.
“This bitch gives great head!” the surfer remarked aloud. The black guy said nothing, but by the way in which he watched the blonde in action, he totally agreed.
In a few more minutes Rick’s penis was a flagpole in his wife’s hands, shinning with her saliva. “That’s my guy,” she whispered to him. “Think of ME. Nothing else!”
Not letting loose of the penis, Michelle climbed on top of Rick and gently guided his staff into her womanhood. Her spectators watched in awe. This show was far beyond their wildest expectations. The third guy wished he’s brought his camera. All three of them had tremendous hard-ons.
Michelle lowered herself onto the penis. The ponytail that the third guy had done for her came loose, and her wet, golden mane poured over her shoulders. Moving her body up and down, Michelle quickly began fucking her husband as the three strangers watched with open mouths. She was in a hurry. She wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible, also hoping against hope that, with this, these sick, perverted men would be satisfied and would leave them alone.
From their positions in chairs at the foot of the bed, the two men sitting there had excellent, uninterrupted views as the woman’s body, facing away from them, went up and down, swallowing the penis on downward strokes, revealing its glistening hardness on the upstrokes.
The pace of the woman’s strokes increased. Her hands were on her husband’s shoulders, her head directly over his, her golden hair spilling over him. “Come on, baby, cum. Cum, damn it! Cum!”
As the men watched in fascination, Rick gave a series of little groans as his wife fucked him vigorously. Rick’s back arched off the mattress as his load flowed from his balls, up through his penis and into Michelle’s cunt. The first blast entered her, but he jerked in such a way that his penis became disengaged from her cunt and a good portion of his ejaculate squirted onto her ass.
The spectators, their cocks hard and their lust unlimited, had seen enough. As the black guy kept his pistol trained on the couple, surfer and the third guy shoved Michelle off her husband and dragged Rick off the bed. Michelle landed face down on the mattress and rolled onto her back as her husband was dragged to a chair. He struggled desperately but was no match for the two of them.
As the two men held Rick in the chair, the black guy put his pistol down—the woman on the bed wasn’t going anywhere—and began duct taping Rick’s ankles to the chair. Next were his wrists to the chair’s arms. Michelle watched in horror from the bed as the man used a prodigious amount of tape to totally immobilize her husband. “NO!” she cried. “Leave us ALONE! We DID what you wanted!”
But her cries went ignored and soon, when the intruders were finished tying her husband to the chair and were satisfied with their handiwork, Michelle’s degree of horror quadrupled. The three men turned in unison—toward her!
She felt more than just physically naked at that moment as she experienced the sensation of three pairs of predator male eyes boring into her—it was as if her very soul were exposed to these rough looking men. Sitting up on the bed with her nude legs stretched before her, Michelle looked beseechingly from one man to another, but the looks she saw in their eyes told her she was doomed. She swallowed hard. Keeping her forearms tightly pressed to her body, covering her bare breasts, she now brought her hands to her mouth, where her fingers felt her trembling lips. She held her shaking knees tightly together, and slightly raised from the bed. As the men stood there salivating, Michelle felt her bladder quake. Had she not peed just before jumping into bed with her husband she would have certainly done so now.
“OK, who’s first?” Michelle heard one of the men ask.
“Let’s flip,” another answered.
Gasping in horror, Michelle was convinced this was hell. Only moments before she had been in heaven, in the arms of her loving new husband, ready to make love to him all afternoon. And now here she was—who knew how long this ordeal had already lasted—laying naked on a bed, having three strange and evil men flipping coins to see who would rape her first!
“Ricky, I’m scared,” she whimpered. Her husband, his eyes wide in terror, struggled against his bindings, rocking the chair, but there was nothing else he could do.
The surfer apparently won the toss, for Michelle now saw him pulling his t-shirt over his head and then reach for and loosen his belt buckle. She was aware that the black man had picked up his pistol and moved to sit in one of the chairs at the side of the bed, and that the third guy came to the other side of the bed and stood, but it was the surfer, disrobing at the foot of the bed, who commanded her attention. She stared at him like a deer in headlights as his pants fell to the floor and the front of his boxers extended as if held out by a tent pole which, essentially, they were. Michelle shuddered visibly. Tears began streaming down the cheeks of a face that for many years had caused many men that passed her on the street to run into lamp posts.
When the surfer pushed his boxers to the floor, his manhood waved before Michelle in all its glory. A cry of “no” escaped her quivering lips and passed by the fingertips that covered them. Frantically she looked around her. There were men on all three sides of the bed. She would never make it to the door in time. They would catch her before she made it half way.
The surfer climbed onto the bed and began to crawl toward her. Michelle instinctively scooted away from him, backwards toward the wall at the head of the bed. “No!” she cried. “Please!”
The surfer’s mouth curved in a wicked smile. “Time to see what a real dick feels like, sweetie.”
As he crawled nearer to her, Michelle inched backwards, in an attempt to escape him, took several tiny, crab-walk steps backwards, toward the head of the bed. To do this she had to put her hands on the bed, which required her to remove her forearms from the front of her body, exposing her breasts to the men.
The surfer watched her in amusement. “Come on, baby,” he said. “Give it up.”
Michelle took a few more crab-like scoots backward until she hit the headboard and could go no further. The surfer reached for her. Quickly and violently, Michelle uncoiled a leg and kicked at the man, striking him solidly in the jaw. The surfer cursed and backed away a foot or two. “Bitch! Help me out, here, guys,” he cried.
“How do you want her, dude?” the black guy asked as he sat his pistol on a table and he and the other man approached the bed.
“Get her on her back. I want to see her face while I fuck her!”
Michelle struggled valiantly as the two men fumbled with her, but she was easily overpowered and was quickly pinned to the mattress. A man was on each side of her, each pinning an arm of hers to the mattress. The surfer instructed the men to put their other arms under the woman’s knees and spread and lift them. In this position, the woman’s thighs were pulled past vertical, her knees were high and wide, her feet dangled in the air. Being held so tightly that she could barely move, Michelle’s womanhood was now on full display for her rapist’s viewing enjoyment. Her sex was fully at his disposition.
From his vantage point in the chair, Rick watched in dismay as his beautiful, young bride was being pinned naked to the bed by two attackers while a third one prepared to rape her. His head swam, and he kept shaking it in denial. In times such as these it is often curious what particular things penetrate one’s mind. Rick was acutely struck by the contrast of the blackness of one of the pairs of arms that secured his wife’s white thighs.
In continued horror, Michelle watched as the surfer positioned himself between her upraised and spread knees. His penis was swollen and rose above two very full looking testicles. Michelle, ever the fighter, desperately attempted to kick viciously at those testicles with her right foot, but her effort was restrained by the muscular black arm that was wrapped around her thigh. She tried kicking with her other foot, and while the guy holing her on that side didn’t seem nearly as strong as the black man, her foot made it only a few inches in the direction of her target
The surfer sneered at her. “Thanks for holding this wild mare, boys.” Then to Michelle he said: “Ready for the REAL cock, bitch?”
Knowing that she was defeated and that she was now going to be raped, Michelle cried: “Don’t watch this, Ricky! Please don’t watch this! Look away!”
Michelle closed her eyes tightly as her rapist mounted her and she felt the tip of his penis touch the lips of her womanhood. “Open you eyes, sweetie!” he commanded. “Hubby can close his eyes if he wants, but I want to see those big blues of yours while you’re getting it!” When she refused to obey him, he hauled off and slapped her hard on the face.
Michelle’s eyes shot open at this, but the man continued slapping her—again and again—until she sputtered: “OK, OK!”
“OK what?” the surfer spat, and slapped her again.
Her face stinging, her eyes now glaring in hatred at him, she stammered: “I…I’ll…I’ll keep my eyes…open!”
The surfer slapped her face hard one more time for good measure before using his hand to do something else: guide his cock into the woman’s vagina. Michelle cried and struggled as she felt this penetration, but the two men were holding her so tightly that she was completely immobilized except for her calves and feet, which kicked wildly but ineffectively in the air, and her head, which she tossed back and forth in denial as the surfer proceeded to rape her.
His penis found Michelle’s pussy to be a wet, warm, tight piece of paradise. It was tight because it was contracted in fear, yet it was at the same time moist and well lubricated from the foreplay and sex that she had recently had with her husband.
The man’s two accomplices pulled the woman’s thighs wider apart as the surfer began fucking her in earnest. Michelle cried in pain as she felt the abnormally wide angle to which her legs were being forced open. From his ringside seat, Rick did not WANT to witness this, as his wife had implored him not to do, but he could not help himself. He could not tear his eyes away from the sight of his beautiful young bride being held by two men and raped by a third. His cries of “no…no” came with difficulty from behind the tape that covered his mouth. He struggled futilely against his binds that held him to the chair. He saw where the men had placed their pistols on a bedside table so that they could violate his wife with all their hands free. If only he could escape from the chair and get to the guns! The men were paying no attention to him. All three were totally absorbed in the ravishing of her poor wife. But struggle as he might, he could not get free.
Rick’s eyes drifted from the pistols on the table top back to the scene on the bed. The surfer was fucking his wife vigorously now with deep in-and-out penetrations as his two friends continued to pin her arms and hold her knees wide apart in the air. He could see the poor girl staring defiantly up her attacker as he had ordered her to do. The look on her face seemed to say, “You’ve got my BODY, asshole, but you don’t have what is ME!”
Meanwhile, the surfer’s black friend was encouraging him on with lewd remarks about the bitch he was fucking. The third guy, the quieter one, said nothing, but never once took his eyes off the woman’s face. He seemed mesmerized by her beauty and by the dark anger that raged within her.
After long moments of this, surfer spoke to his friends, “Don’t need you guys anymore. The bitch is mine. I can handle her!”
Released from the men who had been holding her down, Michelle’s legs plopped to the bed in a position outside the legs of the rapist who continued drilling her. Her attacker now assumed the job himself of pinning her arms to the bed as he fucked her. He laid his entire weight atop her, crushing her into the mattress so hard that from his vantage point, Rick could hardly see his wife anymore.
Eventually the surfer raised his upper body, supporting himself by his arms. He ceased his piston-like thrusting and remained motionless, his cock planted deep inside Michelle as he stared down at her. “Fuck me back, bitch,” he hissed at her. “Play like you’re my girlfriend and FUCK ME BACK!”
“Fuck you!” she responded.
“Boys,” the surfer said, not taking his eyes off those of his victim. “Take the tape off hubby’s mouth and make HIM tell her to fuck me back.”
The black guy giggled. “Good idea, bro.”
Rick winced in pain as the tape was rudely torn away from his lips. “You heard him.” The black guy had bent over and spoke these words very close to Rick’s ear.
“No, I won’t,” Rick cried. The black guy struck him viciously.
“No!” This cry came from Michelle. “Don’t hurt him. I’ll do whatever you want!”
“That’s better,” surfer said. “Let me feel you, baby. Let me feel you fucking me. Like you MEAN it!”
“No, Michelle, don’t…” Another blow silenced Rick before he could say more. He could do nothing but watch in agony as his wife brought her long, lovely, athletic legs up and wrapped them around her rapist. A pain worse than that from his physical beatings coursed through him as he saw her hips, half buried in the mattress beneath the man who lay on top of her, begin to undulate.
The surfer remained with his torso raised, smiling down wickedly at the woman beneath him. “That’s a good girl,” he said softly as he felt her lithe body’s pseudo-reaction to him. After letting her do all the moving for awhile, he slowing resumed his own cadenced stroking, then, eventually, laid his torso back on top of her, crushing her breasts with his chest.
“Kiss me, sweetie,” he said. “And if you bite me, my buddies’ll kill hubby, got that?”
Michelle said nothing, but did not resist as her rapist’s mouth sought hers. His tongue licked her tightly closed lips. “Open your mouth, sweetie.” Reluctantly, Michelle complied, and her attacker’s tongue shot into her mouth as far as it could go.
Her body froze as her rapist’s cock ravished her cunt and his tongue her mouth. “Move, bitch”. He said this with his tongue mostly in her mouth. She remained frozen. “Move!”
Michelle heard a thump and knew that her husband had been hit again. In terror, her cunt and mouth continuing to be ravished, she resumed the grinding and bumping of her hips against her attacker. But her movements were desultory, and her attacker could feel that. “You can do better than this, bitch! Make me cum, damn it. Just like you made hubby cum. I want you to move like that!”
Michelle took the hint. She was a smart woman and knew that their only means of survival—hers and her husband’s—was to do exactly as these men said. Putting her mind on a shelf, she obeyed his command and began fucking him back with all the acting ability that she could muster. She became a wild dervish beneath him. She wiggled her wrists from his grasp and wrapped her now freed arms around him. This freed the surfer’s hands and allowed him to take handfuls of her breasts and squeeze them forcefully.
Rick, of course, saw all of this unfold before his blurry eyes. He saw how his wife’s attacker now brought his hands from her breasts, forced his arms downward beneath her knees and lifted her legs until her ankles became wrapped around his neck. The bed springs wailed in protest as the couple on the bed fucked each other with abandon. The surfer’s black friend, like a football coach prowling the sidelines, continued offering strong verbal support. The third guy, now wearing only boxer shorts and sitting on a chair beside the bed, was stroking his engorged penis and he avidly watched the action before him.
Before long, as their frenzy appeared to be at its highest mark, surfer grunted, “I’m coming, bitch! You’re takin’ my wad, sweetie!”
From his chair, Rick’s head swung back in forth in denial as a rapist’s semen was deposited into the deepest recesses of his newly wed’s vagina while her ankles were wrapped around his neck.
The black guy, still in coach mode, gave out a yell of approval and began applauding loudly, as if his star running back had just scored a touchdown.
The surfer climbed quickly off his vanquished prey. “I can’t stand to touch a bitch after I’ve fucked her,” he muttered. Left alone, Michelle curled again into a fetal position and began weeping softly. She wished desperately that she could simply disappear into thin air and escape this ordeal.
But there was no escape. There would not even be a hiatus before the next round, for immediately she felt the black guy’s big hands on her hips, as now it was his turn to pull her from a pre-natal position.
“No, please, I can’t…” she managed to cry, but assailant number two was not listening. With his massive arms he rolled the woman over onto her back as if she were a sack of potatoes, and sat on her neck. Then, he pressed his huge, black cock—a cock bigger than anything Michelle had ever imagined—across her face.
“Lick it, Blondie!”
Michelle grimaced and tossed her head from side to side in a hopeless attempt to avoid this attack.
“This one’s a little bigger than hubby’s, ain’t it, girl?” Watching this incredibly beautiful woman being raped by his friend had been a tremendous turn on for him and, indeed, had brought his throbbing penis to proportions that he himself could not remember having ever seen before. And now it was HIS turn with her!
Michelle felt her new attacker’s hands around her neck. He was choking her. “Lick my cock, you fucking slut!”
Her mouth was already wide open in struggling for the air that he was denying her, so from there to sticking her tongue out was a short hop. Once she did have her tongue out, her attacker began rubbing his cock against it, moving the ebony phallus up and down over its wet, pink surface. After long moments of this, the man noticed a small amount of pre-cum emanating from his dick, and rubbed this white, sticky fluid onto the woman’s pink tongue. He then readjusted his position and sent the tip of his cock into the woman’s open mouth. She had no choice but to receive it.
Rick watched, nearing hysteria as the black rapist began to fuck his bride’s face before his very eyes. Michelle was now choking on the thick male member that filled her mouth. She tried reaching for it to perhaps control it, but the man batted her hands away.
“Come on, sweetie, suck it like you did your husband’s.” This was said by the surfer who remained lying spent on the far side of the bed.
“She ain’t used to black dicks,” her attacker said. “Wasn’t raised on ‘em.”
Soon, the man lost patience with what was, in fact, a poor, uncooperative blow job. He pulled his dick out of her mouth and moved to sit on the foot of the bed, so close to where Rick sat tied to his chair that their knees almost touched. He then reached over with one hand and grasped Michelle by a knee and roughly pulled her to him. She shrieked, astounded by this man’s strength that he could manhandle her this way with just one hand despite her desperate struggle of resistance. The man pulled Michelle face down across his lap with her bare behind sticking up in the air. With the woman’s legs and arms thrashing helplessly in the air, he began spanking her as if she were a misbehaving child. Michelle yelped in pain as the blows with his open, calloused hand rained down upon her soft, sexy buttocks. His huge phallus pressed against her rib cage as he spanked her harder and harder. The loud slapping sounds of flesh meeting flesh resonated around the room. Rick, who was so close to the action that he could have reached out and touched the protagonists had his arms not been bound to his chair, stared in frozen fear as his poor wife received this terrible punishment before his very eyes, her feet kicking in the air, her arms flailing in agonized protest. Twenty, thirty times the man’s hard, open hand landed with extreme force upon Michelle’s delicate, round derriere until her yells became nothing but choked sobs.
Finally, when the black man stopped spanking the blonde woman, she remained lying face down across his lap, weeping softly but otherwise lifeless. The round, twin cheeks of her behind were already aglow in a bright, burning crimson color. The man then effortlessly spun her over onto her back, her arms flapping like those of a rag doll. With her still in his lap, but facing upwards, the man stood, lifting Michelle’s naked body with him in his arms with no apparent effort. He stood immediately in front of Rick, holding his wife’s limp body draped in his massive arms. Michelle was 5’7” and weighed 123 pounds, but she looked somehow delicately small now, her own arms, as well as her calves and long, blonde hair, now mostly dry, all dangling toward the floor as she lay limply in the black man’s arms.
“Can I fuck your bitch?” he asked. Rick, dazed, stared blindly ahead. His eyes were at the same level as the stone-like forearms that held his wife. As his head literally swam, his eyes dully recorded the fact that the black man’s biceps were nearly as big as his wife’s thighs.
“I think he’s saying ‘yes’”, the surfer laughed.
The black man didn’t wait for another answer. He spun around toward the bed with the woman in his arms. In doing so, Michelle’s feet slapped her husband in the face. He then tossed her unceremoniously onto the bed, where she went sprawling. The black man walked to the side of the bed. “Let’s get over here,” he said. “Don’t wanna block hubby’s view.”
Once again he grasped Michelle by the ankles and pulled her toward him. How many times had her body been pulled across this bed, as each time she squealed in fearful protest!
As the man remained standing by the side of the bed, he repositioned Michelle with her face down, her crotch at the bed’s edge, her legs dangling off the edge. In her fear and under the duress of such physical abuse, she had become putty in the black man’s hands for him to mold as he pleased. Being secured now by the man’s hands on her curvaceous hips, her now flaming red ass was pulled up into the air toward him, leaving her face pressed down upon the mattress and her knees planted on the edge of the bed.
Michelle seemed to have regained some of her senses. She shrieked in fright now, certain suddenly that the man’s intention was to assault her in the ass. “Noooooo!” she screamed. It was the first word she had managed to utter in minutes. “Noooooooo! Please for the love of god…” She already had a very good knowledge of the size of his cock and knew that there was no way she could take it in her ass! She began to panic.
Rick watched helplessly from his chair, his head shaking back and forth.
Was it relief, then, that Michelle felt when the man’s fingers entered her vagina and not her ass? The fingers roughly spread apart the lips of her womanhood, and then she felt it: the tip of one of the largest penises known to man—or woman—pressing against her.
“NO!” she cried. “I’m begging you, please, no—!”
Her verbal protest was cut short as she felt her rapist’s penis penetrate her. Contrary to her fear, though, her vagina actually ceded rather easily to this latest phallus despite its considerable thickness. There was enough of her saliva remaining on the man’s cock to make it reasonably well lubricated. Also, the sexual activity she had recently had with two other men, both of whom had oiled the walls of her cunt with their sperm, had conditioned her vagina to accept this oversized pole. Michelle should have been thankful for this, for otherwise she would have found the entry of this horse-sized dick to have been rather painful.
The black rapist shoved his lower abdomen forward and impaled Michelle with half the length of his nine inch weapon. The woman gasped at the feel of this penetration and pounded her fists on the mattress. It felt like she was being assaulted with the barrel end of a baseball bat! Her assailant hesitated a moment to savor the feel of this beautiful white woman now impaled doggie style on the end of his massive cock, her sexy, round ass glowing a bright red from her spanking as it stuck in the air just below his rippling six pack abs. Then, grasping his victim confidently by her wide hips to keep her firmly in place, the man shoved as much of the rest of his cock into her as was anatomically possible, which meant that there was still a good two inches of his dick visible when the head of the thing banged against the woman’s uterus. Michelle’s gasp this time was much louder and stung her husband’s ears like an electrical shock.
“Do her, bro!” the surfer called out.
The black man remained motionless, his cock buried to the hilt inside the white woman’s cunt. He seemed mesmerized as he watched the way the women’s moist, pink labia clung to the circumference of his thick manhood. Then, as he continued to secure the woman by her hips, he began fucking her with slow but powerful thrusts. With Michelle’s cheek flat on the mattress and her eyes tightly clinched, each inward jab caused sharp cries to emanate from a mouth that remained in a large, open o.
“Give it to her, my man!” cried the surfer, who had raised up on one elbow to get a better look at the proceedings.
“Look at your husband!” her rapist commanded. “Look at him while I fuck you!”
“No,” she protested weakly. “Don’t make me do that.” But the only response to her feeble plea was the feel of the man’s fearsome hands once again around her neck. He positioned her head slightly to the side so that Rick, sitting slumped on the chair to which he was bound, was now in her direct line of vision. She shuddered at the strength she felt in the man’s hands. She was certain he could snap her neck in a split second if he wished. She was relieved, at least, to see that her husband’s chin was resting on his chest, his eyes shut, and he was not seeing this. But then the third guy stood by Rick’s side and pulled his head upward. “You can’t miss this, man, you really can’t.”
Rick stared in uncomprehending horror at the scene before him. He remembered how lovely Michelle had looked only a couple days before as her father walked her down the aisle of the church, the most beautiful bride in the world. He remembered how lovely she was, beaming at him as he lifted the veil from her face at the altar. And now here she was, being raped doggie style by a ravenous black stud, her face contorted in fear and shame, tears streaming down her cheeks. Before Rick could look away, Michelle locked her eyes on his and mouthed to him the words “I love you.”
But as her rapist increased the pace and intensity with which he fucked her, Michelle’s cries intensified, her eyes again slammed shut, her jaw became slack and her mouth hung open like a gaping barn door. Rick looked away. He could not take any more of seeing his beautiful young bride being ravished in this fashion, on her knees, her ripe, round, spank-reddened ass held in the air by a dark, muscular hunk who was having his way with her. None of the other two men were paying him the least mind: their attention was fully upon the action taking place on the bed.
Michelle now clasped her hands over her ears and buried her face into the mattress, muffling her cries as she tried desperately to hide, or to transport her mind from this reality. This had been something she was unable to do while being raped by the surfer, as he had been so in-her-face. This was different. This situation allowed her—not to relax, certainly—but at least to try to will her mind to take flight, like an ostrich with her head in the sand—or, in this case, in the mattress—for ever how long this ordeal was going to last.
But something began to happen to Michelle. An unmistakable heat was being generated within her loins by the incessant and rhythmic penetrations into—and withdrawals from—her female organ by its demanding male counterpart. The position that she was in—her face on the bed and her ass high in the air—had apparently placed her G-spot in a direct line of fire. And fire it was. The stimulation to her genitals was intense and, even though it was being forced upon her, it slowly drew over her the type of soothing, euphoric cloud that she had been unsuccessfully attempting to call forth on her own volition as a means of coping with her situation.
A distinct physiological metamorphous was now germinating deep within her. The unrelenting churning of her vagina was causing it to produce secretions that Michelle had no control over. Currently preoccupied as she was with denial, this development did not immediately dawn on her, but when it did, she was aghast, not only by the fact that she was secreting fluids in the first place, but by the interpretation that this secretion was actually AIDING her rapist by bathing his penis with lubricant! This was not happening!
But it WAS! Just as it had happened four hundred generations ago to the vaginas of prehistoric women dragged to the lairs of Mesolithic cavemen so that the human race would endure and thousands of years later a woman named Michelle could experience the same sense of what it was to be a female possessed by a masterful stud!
Michelle now felt herself surrendering to this experience. What else could she do? It was as if her rapist’s incontestable penis, marauding at will inside her cunt, had unlocked some dormant genetic code passed down from those cave women that had been suppressed by thousands of years of polite civilization. Awakening within her was this innate element of animal evolution: that the female of the species may play coy and hard-to-get, but when falling into the talons of a talented male, she not only surrenders but RESPONDS! Gradually, as her rapist had his way with her, Michelle’s cries and whimpers underwent a subtle but distinct transition: from the moans and sobs of a woman being raped…to the moans and sobs of a woman being fucked!
Rick, for certain, noticed the change in the sounds that his wife was making. And soon it was more than just sounds. His eyes—eyes that could not be dragged from this horrible scene—widened in disbelief. Was he seeing things, or was his beautiful bride’s ass actually gyrating now so wildly against the black man who was fucking her so that it was all he could do to maintain his control of her with his hands on her curvaceous hips!?
The surfer noticed this, as well. “You’re gonna make her cum, bro!”
“I’m lovin’ vanilla!” he responded, his voice choked with lust. “Lovin’ it a LOT!” With that he increased his pace even more. Perspiration was dripping from his forehead and falling onto the woman’s sleek back. His face tightened in a grimace equal to that on the face of the fair skinned beauty who was moving madly on the end of his huge black cock.
In seconds, Michelle screamed loudly as waves of sexual climax rippled through her body. Seconds after that the swollen testicles of her black rapist began to spasm, and Michelle could feel what seemed like a quart of hot semen being pumped into her. Her eyes tightly shut, her mouth wide open, Michelle’s fingers clawed at the bed sheets like a cornered alley cat as she rode the wave of her orgasm while the man shouted obscenities and continued the powerful thrusting of his cock in and out of her now gaping cunt.
Michelle at this point was like a female alley cat in another intriguing way: semen from multiple males of her species now swam around her ovaries, looking to fertilize her. If she could be thankful for nothing else on this fearful day, she would at least be able to take comfort in the fact that she was on birth control pills! Neither she nor her husband had intended for her to get pregnant for at least the first two years of their marriage.
Only when the black man’s huge balls were totally emptied did he quit pumping Michelle’s body with his enormous dick and fall forward on top of her, flattening her face down into the mattress. Unlike the surfer, who had a thing about not wanting to touch a woman after fucking her, the black attacker now took this opportunity, as they both lay spent and breathing hard—he solidly on top of her back, their legs dangling off the side of the bed—to now fully explore Michelle’s body with his powerful hands. Michelle felt those hands as they burrowed between her and the mattress and grasped her flattened breasts. She also felt her back becoming drenched by the man’s sweat.
“Dude, that was awesome,” the surfer offered. “Fuckin’ awesome!”
Michelle’s attacker, in the afterglow of an extremely satisfying sexual conquest, enjoyed the way her body trembled beneath him as he fondled her. Her body shook in a combination of emotions: fear, anger and humiliation. A wave of guilt washed over her as she lay feeling the crushing weight of her rapist’s body—the weight bearing down on her sore, spanked buttocks was particularly painful. After the crescendo of her explosive orgasm waned, the very realization that she had been taken to orgasm by a rapist filled her with shame and disgust. She was now impervious to the man as he continued to fondle her naked body, being more concerned with an attempt at convince herself that she had not actually just CUM while being viciously raped!
“What’d you think of that, man?” the surfer asked of Rick, who sat with his chin on his chest, his eyes shut. He looked like he was asleep. “Your woman just came like a fucking machine gun, man!”
Not too much time passed before the black man slowly resumed humping his victim with what was left of the once fearsome hard-on that remained within her body. Though the penis was now but a shadow of its former self, Michelle could still feel its considerable volume filling her, fucking her. Several more minutes of this leisurely, post-climax coitus passed before the third guy finally spoke up: “Anytime, now dude. It’s my turn.” Michelle heard this and shuddered.
The black man groaned. He was nuzzling Michelle’s neck, not wanting this moment to pass. “Fuck off, dick head,” he muttered. He was holding out hope for a quick recovery time that would allow him to have a round two with this exquisite blonde, something that five years ago he could have easily done. “I’m fucking getting old,” he thought to himself wistfully.
The third guy looked plaintively to the surfer, who had already put his shirt back on and was now pulling on his pants.
“We’d better get goin’ bro. We gotta get to work. Give Billy boy here his shot at glory.”
For a further long moment the black man lay pressed against his blonde victim, trying to commit the feel and the smell of her to memory, but at last he pulled himself off her and crawled off the bed. His horse’s dick swung in the air as he stood. The ebony shaft, still semi-hard, fairly glistened with cunt juice, and a long string of cum hung from its opening. As he stood, the young woman he had just raped remained lifeless, face down on the mattress, in a pool of sweat—hers and her attacker’s.
The black man staggered away from the bed half dizzy. The surfer laughed. “You done fucked yourself silly, bro!” He then looked at Billy. “Your turn, sport”
Billy was stripped to his boxers, against which a noticeable hard-on pressed outward, but by his demeanor his confidence was seen to waver noticeably. “Look,” he said, “can you guys…leave us alone?”
“Scared of an audience?” the surfer laughed.
Billy forced a smile, but it was a nervous one. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“What about hubby here?” the surfer said, pointing to Rick who sat slumped in his chair, his chin on his chest.
“I…I’ll blind fold him.”
“Okay, sport. Sure. Knock yourself out.” Surfer picked up his Glock G31. “Want to keep this with you?”
Billy shot a glance at the bed. The nude woman, who was face down upon it, crosswise with her legs from the knees down dangling off the side, had not so much as moved a muscle since the black guy left her where she lay after finishing with her. “No, I think I’ll be okay with a just a little duct tape.”
“Yeah,” the surfer replied. His gaze followed that of the other man’s toward the woman on the bed. “Doesn’t look like there’s too much fight left in her,” he chuckled.
Indeed, while Michelle had fought as best she could against her first rapist—until being blackmailed by the threats of physical harm to her husband—she had been so totally overpowered by her second attacker that she now lay completely exhausted and defeated—physically and mentally—face down on the bed. Physically she was like a boxer who had been ko’ed to the canvass—complete with a slight trickle of blood oozing from the nose—and most definitely looked down for the count. Mentally, she was now overwhelmed by a self-loathing that was enveloping her and making her want to bury her head in the mattress in embarrassment, for she knew that—as unbelievable as it now seemed in the aftermath—she had, most assuredly, most undeniably, actually REPONDED to the sexual assault from her black rapist! It seemed…unimaginable now! How could she have done that? In front of her poor husband?! Had her husband heard the way she…the way she…had screamed?! Of course he did! He had been sitting less than ten feet away, and she had heard the surfer goading him about it.
She wanted to die.
“Look, you guys don’t have to wait around outside, either,” Billy said. “Go ahead and take off. I’ll finish up here.”
The other two men, both of whom had their clothes back on, looked at each other and nodded. The surfer walked over to Rick and lifted his chin. Rick looked up at him with unseeing eyes. “Listen, dude,” the surfer said. “You go to the authorities on this, you won’t leave this island alive, you got me?”
Rick nodded groggily.
“We’ve got friends on this island. You don’t wanna meet our friends. But if one word of this gets reported, they’ll meet you. Do you hear what I’m sayin’?”
Again Rick nodded, but the surfer shook his chin violently. “Answer me! Do you fuckin’ understand?”
“Yes,” Rick mumbled.
“That means you don’t take your bitch to a hospital, got that? They ask too many fuckin’ questions. They call police.” He squeezed Rick’s chin harder. “Understood?”
“Yes,” Rick again mumbled.
Satisfied, the surfer dropped the man’s chin and walked to the door. “She’s all yours, Billy boy,” he said over his shoulder as he and the black dude, both pocketing their pistols, walked out the broken door of the bungalow. “Enjoy!”
Billy quickly locked the door and barricaded it with a chair. He then turned and faced the room uncertainly. Rick was looking at him, and implored: “Let us go, man!”
Billy thought, but did not say aloud: “What, and not have a piece of your gorgeous wife’s ass!?” He examined the duct tape that secured the man to the chair and was satisfied that it was still in good shape. He picked up his shirt and draped it over Rick’s head. This caused Rick to raise such a ruckus that Billy pulled the shirt off, applied duct tape to his mouth, and recovered his head with the shirt.
Billy heard the bed springs. Turning, he saw Michelle stirring. He quickly went to her and pushed her face back down onto the mattress. She protested meekly as he grabbed her still limp wrists and duct taped them tightly together behind her back. He then crawled onto the bed and, grasping Michelle by her arm pits, dragged her body more onto the middle of the bed, still in a crosswise position, but her lower legs, which she kicked in defiance as she was pulled in this fashion, were no longer dangling off the edge.
“Leave me alone!” she cried weakly, trying to twist away from her third attacker. “If you have any human decency, please leave me alone.”
Billy stood from the bed and dropped his boxers, allowing a full blown hard-on to wave in the air. Michelle saw this out of the corner of her eye and shuddered before she buried her face yet again in the mattress, even though, compared to the black man’s, this penis was rather small. Still, would this ordeal not END?!
Billy now lay down beside Michelle, who had rolled to her side facing away from him. Lying on her side took pressure off her painful, spanked ass. Her upper leg lay in a slight v above the straighter lower leg. He felt her body tense up as he put an arm around her. He ran his fingers soothingly—what he hoped was soothingly—through her matted and disheveled blonde hair. “My beautiful Michelle,” he said. His voice was soft, almost soothing.
“He knows my name!” Michelle realized, something she found disturbing.
“Do you remember smiling at me this morning? On your way to breakfast?” He continued to run his fingers carefully through her hair. “Little did you know then that you’d be giving me a whole lot more than your smile today!”
Michelle shut her eyes and said nothing.
“Those guys were mean to you. I’m going to be nice to you.”
“Just leave me ALONE!” Her voice cracked in exasperated weariness. She didn’t seem to have the energy to speak loudly. In fact, she felt as if she had just been run over by a steam roller.
Ignoring her, Billy let his hands roam the woman’s nude body as she trembled. “Just relax,” he said. “I’ll be gentle with you.”
“What’s going on!?” Rick demanded from his chair, although his words did not come out all too intelligibly from behind the duct tape over his mouth and the shirt over his head.
“Its okay, baby,” Michelle cried. “This is a nice guy. He’s not going to hurt me. He’s going to let us go.”
Billy whispered in her ear: “It IS okay now. Don’t be afraid. Those bad guys are gone. It’s me, now.” His hands ran back and forth over the swell of her hips.
Michelle had been dazed by the brutality of her rape at the hands of the first two men, but there now seemed to be a creepiness about this third guy that she found, in some respects, to be even more fearful. She thought that he might be the type who could be very polite one moment…and slit her throat the next. She HAD to get her arms free. She just HAD to!
“Untie my hands,” she said. She took a quick breath and bit her lip. “I…I will make love to you if you untie my hands.” She hoped she said this soft enough that her husband did not hear.
Facing away from her latest attacker, she did not see him smile. “Oh, my beautiful Michelle, I wish I could trust you.” His hands continued to trace the curves of her hips. “Unfortunately, I can’t.”
His calling her by her name unnerved her. “Please,” she implored, feeling more than ever the absolute need to have her arms free to defend herself from whatever perversion could be in store. “I…I’ll be just like your girl friend! You don’t tie up your girl friend, do you?”
Continuing to ignore her, Billy pushed her back onto her stomach and straddled the back of her knees, pinning her. Michelle gave a sigh of exasperation. Billy’s eyes followed the length of her arms that stretched down her backside, coming together at her bound wrists that rested on her bruised ass. “An attractive woman’s arms are the most underrated thing about her,” he mused aloud. He then noticed approvingly her manicure. “Nice nails,” he said, feeling the tips of them with his fingers. “Did you have these done for your wedding?” Michelle ignored this.
He next carefully studied the large, angry looking red welts on her buttocks that her black rapist had given her, and bent over them for a closer view. Then, leaning further, he softly kissed her ass. “Those men hurt you,” he said gently. “I’ll make you feel better.”
“Untie me if you want me to feel better. I won’t resist you! I PROMISE!”
His reply was to begin licking and kissing the welts on her butt, leaving long trails of saliva. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen”, he said as his mouth had its way with her curvaceous ass. “One of my friends said you look like Heidi Klum.” He paused in his commentary as his tongue glided lightly over the red welts on her buttocks. Michelle, face down on the bed, squirmed in protest as she felt him do this. “The other said you were like Charlize Theron. “But…I think…I think you’re more the athletic type. To me you look more like…I’d say…Maria Sharapova.” He said this thoughtfully after pulling his face away from her ass to admire the amount of saliva he had left across its ample curvature.
Rick cried out something from the chair which again might have been “What’s going on?!” Blinded by the shirt covering his head, he had cocked his head to one side in an attempt to HEAR was he couldn’t see. It was somehow driving him crazier not knowing what was happening now to his wife that it had been earlier actually seeing her being raped.
“It’s okay, Rick,” Michelle called to him again. “Don’t worry, honey.”
But she didn’t believe her own words. The previous two men had frightened her as she had never been frightened before, but this pervert was terrifying her beyond belief. After leaving her entire ass thoroughly soaked with his saliva, his mouth was now trailing down the backside of Michelle’s thighs. She continued to wiggle in protest against this. She tried kicking a leg, but Billy’s arms were pinning her thighs to the bed. Continuing downward, the man’s tongue now licked the woman’s feet and toes. Michelle squirmed at the feel of his taking each toe, one at a time, into his mouth and nibbling on them.
When he was done there, Billy rolled Michelle onto her back, an act which pinned her arms and bound wrists beneath her back. He stared in awe at his captive’s frontal nudity, his gaze beginning at her feet, which he held, and moving slowly up her long, graceful legs, pausing at the juncture where those legs, which she held pressed tightly together, met, and where a soft thatch of matted blonde pubic hair was visible. His eyes then traveled upward to the pair of breasts that he had first seen cloaked in a sexy bikini top that had allowed the twin mounds to giggle nicely as he watched her frolic on the beach earlier that morning. Those breasts were now exposed to him in all their glory, somewhat flattened as she lay on her back but still managing to rise nicely and defiantly against gravity. With her arms fastened behind her back, her breasts were now his to do with as he pleased.
His gaze carried on upward to Michelle’s face. She was eyeing him carefully, as a hiker in the woods would regard a bear on the trail ahead. New tears were now forming in her eyes.
Billy was shocked by the woman’s appearance. Her cheeks were bruised and swollen from the slapping she had received from the surfer. One eye was already blackened and half closed. A mixture of blood and snot trickled from her nose. All this, together with her matted and disheveled hair and sweaty, sticky body, made her the very picture of a battered rape victim.
“You poor thing!” Billy cried. “What did those evil men do to you?”
His creepiness pushed Michelle over the top. “Fuck you, you son-of-a-bitch!” she cried. “You were PART of them. You held me down while they beat me! You’re as evil as they are, you pervert!”
These words didn’t bother him. “Let me clean you up,” he said softly. Climbing off the bed, Billy went into the bathroom and reappeared quickly—he didn’t want to leave the woman unattended long—with a wetted towel. He was also carrying her make-up kit which he had found there, and also her flesh colored bikini, still wet from her having washed the sand out of it after the beach.
Michelle eyed him with weary resignation as he climbed back onto the bed with her. She had remained on her back with her knees raised and held tightly together. Her feet were about a foot apart on the mattress. What the hell did this pervert think he was doing with her bikini!?
Billy may have appeared distracted, but he was secretly wary of any attempt on the part of Michelle to kick his exposed genitals. Snuggling up to her, he carefully began to clean the snot and blood from her face with the towel. Michelle stared vacantly at the ceiling over the bed as he did this. Next he gingerly wiped away the tear streaked mascara from around her eyes. Michelle winced when he pressed too hard against the swollen area under her eye.
“I’m sorry,” Billy said. “I’m trying not to hurt you.”
When he was satisfied that her face was clean, he rummaged in the make-up kit and pulled out lipstick and fresh mascara. “Do like this,” he said, tightening his lips in the way that a woman does when applying lipstick.
“Fuck you”, she said softly.
Ignoring this, Billy began to apply the red lipstick as best he could on the uncooperative lips. Michelle shook her head back and forth in trying to escape this indignity, but Billy secured her chin firmly with one hand and finished the job with the other. “Come on, Michelle,” he said, inspecting his work. His voice sounded like that of a trusted friend. “You’re not helping.”
He then brought out the mascara. “Don’t move, Michelle! I don’t want to poke you in the eye with this mascara brush.”
Each time he spoke her name, it was like nails on a chalkboard to her. Meanwhile, Rick was growing more and more impatient, rocking the chair to which he was secured from side to side, muttering incomprehensively behind the blinding shirt.
After applying make-up to the bound woman, Billy took a comb from her kit and began lovingly running it through her long strands. Michelle squirmed, totally grossed out by what this pervert was doing to her. She was convinced that at any moment he would go berserk and kill her.
“I would never hit you like they did,” Billy was saying. “I want to love you, not…what they did.”
“Please untie me if you want to love me.” Michelle was determined to no longer risk the possibility of inciting the pervert by calling him a pervert. Though it disgusted her to the verge of vomiting, she thought with cold calculation that the best way to maximize her safety was to try again to play along with the creep. “I want you to make love to me,” she whispered, again in the sexiest voice she could muster under the circumstances. “But with my arms free so I can FEEL you!”
Sitting in the chair, Michelle’s husband was sobbing uncontrollably. Michelle, having her plate full in coping with her situation, was no longer able to throw out verbal encouragement to him. She was watching her attacker as he now was holding up her bikini.
“Let’s put this back on you, Michelle,” he said. “You looked so lovely in it this morning on the beach. I’d like to see you in it again.”
Michelle stared, uncomprehending, as the man pushed the leg holes of the bikini bottom past her feet and ankles, and then pulled the skimpy garment up her long, shapely legs until it came to her wide hips, where he twisted and straightened it until it was correctly positioned, covering—barely—her private parts. “Nice,” he said.
Having this pervert make her up, brush her hair and now dress her, as if he were playing with a doll, made Michelle feel like a cheap toy.
Next came the bikini top. The man ran it under her armpits and positioned the small cups over her ample breasts, then turned her onto her side and fastened the strap of the top behind her. When finished, he rolled the now bikini-clad woman onto her back again. When one of her boobs popped out from its cup, Billy carefully and solicitously tucked most of it back in. The cup, though, was only about two and a half inches wide, so that in truth it was only able to cover the summits of her twin peaks—the aureoles—and little else.
Michelle could see the look of deranged lust in her attacker’s eyes and shuddered. “Please don’t hurt me,” she cried softly. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Of course you will, Michelle,” he replied, and now lowered his face to her now bikini-clad breasts. As Michelle’s eyes returned to the ceiling above her, the man now kissed her tits through the bikini top. As he did so, he recalled the vision of this young woman romping on the beach that very morning in this very bikini. “You look like a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model now,” he said as he nibbled gently on one of her bikini-covered tits.
Michelle stared now with unseeing eyes at the ceiling as the man occupied himself with her breasts. She had stiffened momentarily, then willed herself to relax. She could tell that he was looking up at her face as he kneaded her breasts with his hands and suckled at her nipples through the cloth of the skimpy bikini. Tenderly, one at a time, he took her bikini covered mammary glands into his mouth. Working on one first one breast, then the other, he would cup the base of them in his hands and squeeze, causing the tit to expand like a balloon being blown into. The nipples on the tops of the balloons, poking upward, became outlined against the thin material of the bikini top, and were eagerly sucked.
Michelle was nearly delirious with fear. At that moment she heard her husband’s chair crash to the floor. Billy paused what he was doing and sat up to see what had happened. In rocking from side to side as he had been doing, Rick had finally gone too far and fell to one side, and lay now on the floor, still taped to the chair.
Convinced that the man was not going anywhere, Billy returned his attention to the man’s wife. He liked what he saw. The woman’s tits, covered only by the thin strip of the flesh colored bikini top, were covered with his saliva. More intriguing was the undisputable fact that her nipples, seen outlined against the tiny swimsuit top, had hardened perceptively. He caressed them through the thin material with the palm of is hand.
“You are responding to me, Michelle,” he marveled. Deeply embarrassed, Michelle knew that he was right! She couldn’t believe it. How could her own nipples be forsaking her and responding to THIS?! She tossed her head back and forth on the bed in disgust as her assailant renewed the squeezing and suckling of her tits with increased vigor, while she lay there on her back, her arms pinned behind her, powerless to stop him.
Shortly, Michelle was aware that the man was biting and sucking her tit quite hard, just beneath the nipple. The man had bunched up the bikini top into a strip now not more than an inch wide, meaning that it covered her nipples but not the entire aureole. “Ouch!” Michelle cried as the sharp pain stung her. “NO!” But the young man, with his upper and lower teeth about a quarter inch apart, only increased the intensity with which he sunk them into her soft flesh. In desperation Michelle struggled, but with her arms bound behind her back there was absolutely nothing she could do. She was completely at whatever mercy her attacker might have. Frantically she looked down at his head. He had moved to her other breast and was biting her there now, just below her bikini covered nipple.
“No!” she again cried, the pain stinging. “Please. NO!”
But he continued to bite and suck, and when he at last pulled away and looked up at her, Michelle cried out at seeing traces of her blood in his teeth, with a tiny trickle of it running down his chin. She froze. She was seeing the teeth of a vampire! And his eyes! She stared at them in terror, convinced that they were the eyes of the devil himself!
The young man’s mouth was again at her tits, where he proceeded to nibble at numerous points, biting into her soft flesh and simultaneously sucking blood, applying massive sized hickeys over large portions of the lower slopes of her beautiful twin mounds. Michelle gasped in horror as she suffered the pain of this attack. She could feel her own warm blood as it trickled from her breasts and onto her flat tummy. “No,” she cried sharply, squirming on the bed. There was nothing else she could do or say but cry the word “no”, over and over and over, her head thrashing back and forth, her feet kicking.
She now felt that his mouth had moved to the flesh just ABOVE the thin strand of bikini top that shrouded her nipples at the summit of her breasts. She cried out in renewed pain as his teeth now sank into the upper hemisphere of her twin peaks.
Between bites he muttered: “I’m so glad your have natural breasts, Michelle.” He paused to suck blood. “I wouldn’t be doing this if these were silicon.”
Michelle’s head thrashed back and forth upon the mattress in disgust and distress. Her eyes had shut tightly as she grimaced in pain, but as her vampire attacker continued to assault her breasts in this fashion, she once again willed her mind to drift. Who knew how much time had transpired until she realized that he had at last quite feasting on her tits and had assumed a position straddling her around her thighs, sitting up. When her eyes blinked open, she saw him staring down at her. The sight of her blood around his mouth and chin made the blood left in her body curl.
“Open your legs for me, Michelle,” he said.
She had been waiting for him to get to this point. She could hear her husband sobbing on the floor at the foot of the bed. She had been praying that he would have worked his way out of his bounds by now and would have rescued her from this sexual pervert of a vampire. Looking up at her attacker as his head hovered over hers, Michelle was frozen by again by the devil’s eyes with which he seemed to fondly regard her.
When she did not respond immediately to his command to open her legs, he repeated it. Knowing she had no choice, Michelle bit her lip, and with fresh tears welling in her eyes, at last obeyed him. Slowly, she began to part her luscious thighs.
“Wider!” he commanded, his voice husky.
Rick heard the word “wider” and it stung him. It meant that his bride had already opened her legs somewhat, just not enough to suit her attacker.
On the bed, Michelle, having no alternative, did as told, and slowly her honey thighs parted wide enough to allow her attacker to plant his knees inside hers. When she then felt him forcing her knees wider apart, she did not resist him.
“I am going to fuck a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model.” His voice was soft but laden with lust. “I am going to fuck her WEARING her swimsuit!”
She next felt him reach down and pull one of the leg openings of her bikini away from her crotch, allowing him access to her vagina. She closed her eyes and was shocked and disgusted at the ease and quickness with which his swollen cock entered her! The brutal fact of the matter was, however, that after having her pussy reamed by the huge cock of the black guy, virtually any dick in the world could penetrate her now with the utmost ease.
The young man seemed to hesitate for a moment after gaining his penetration of her, but soon Michelle felt him begin to pump her hard. She tried desperately to yet again transport her mind to another place and another time; however, feeling the man’s thighs chafe against the insides of hers as he fucked her made this difficult, so she parted her thighs even more in an attempt to minimize this contact and free her mind to think of something other than what was happening to her. But then her husband’s sobbing sounds coming from the floor would draw her mind solidly back to the realities of this room.
“Please just be quick about this!” she wished desperately to herself. “Please hurray up and just FINISH!”
But then Michelle’s eyes suddenly shot open. As she was being fornicated, she became aware that this latest of her rapists, who had by now pushed her bikini up off her tits and to around her neck, was now tightening this garment around her neck! He was choking her!
“NO!” she screamed. With her arms tied helplessly behind her back, Michelle bucked her body and kicked her legs in panic as her rapist kept his penis buried inside her and applied pressure to her neck by pulling on opposite ends of the bikini top. Her eyes bulged as she stared in terror at her attacker. “NO!” she again screamed, only somewhat weaker this time. Her rapist gave her several deep, hard thrusts with his penis and then paused to watch her as he choked her more. “NO!” This time her voice was a gasp, not a scream. From the floor, her husband was hearing what was happening and did his own screaming from behind the duct tape over his mouth, but Michelle did not hear him as her legs kicked madly.
The bucking and tossing of Michelle’s body was providing a thrilling sensation for her rapist. The feel of her cunt walls on his penis as she thrashed madly beneath him was driving him crazy.
Attacker and victim locked eyes as the pressure upon the victim’s throat continued. Michelle’s kicking and thrashing gradually faded as she now lacked the oxygen necessary to fight. Her eyes bulged and her body soon went limp and sagged back onto her arms that lay bound beneath her on the mattress. Her legs ceased their wild kicking and dropped meekly to the mattress on the outsides of her rapist’s legs.
Still their eyes locked. Michelle was certain that she was dying and that these were the devil’s eyes and they were going to be the last thing she would ever see! She no longer cared, nor even noticed, that the limper she went the harder her rapist fucked her body.
Michelle’s tongue had exited her mouth and she was on the verge of passing out when her assailant at last released his choke hold on her with the bikini. The man paused when he saw that Michelle did not immediately resume breathing. Had he gone too far!? He slapped her face to revive her. Once. Twice. Still no sign of life: although her eyes were wide open, they were the unseeing eyes of a fish. Now it was he who was panicking, for he truly loved this girl in his own perverted way and he most certainly did not want to waste her.
And then, in the blink of an eye, Michelle’s lungs sprang back to life and she gulped in air by the bucketful, her bare breasts bobbing on the waves of a heaving chest, her eyes remaining locked on her assailant. Relieved to have her come to, Billy allowed his upper body to fall down upon her heaving chest, and he resumed fucking her. He met no resistance in spreading her thighs further apart as he did so, as Michelle’s only preoccupation for the moment was her ability to breathe again—the fact that she was being raped was, by comparison, no longer of concern. Her rapist was whispering “I love you” over and over in her ear as he fucked her, but she did not hear this.
Michelle’s wild dive into the realm of near-asphyxia had an incredibly strong hallucinogenic effect, one that bent her mind—sent it to a safer, distant place—while acutely sharpening her physical senses and tempting her to surrender herself again to these senses, as she had done with her black rapist. She keenly felt, and could not deny, the unceasing sexual stimulation that she was receiving. Her pussy had been contracted in fear, but was well lubricated from her previous sexual activity and, as a result, her vagina clung tightly to this piston-like penis like a snug but well oiled glove. This meant that she could intimately feel with every nerve ending in her vagina the in-and-out movement of the invading penis. She was vaguely shocked that this…that this really creepy guy…could be so…GOOD! This was…this MUST have been…the DEVIL’S PENIS INSIDE HER!! She felt sudden and immense shame that she found this to be… SO GOOD!
Against her will, Michelle’s body began to smoke. The rubbing together of two sticks, with enough patience, will create fire, and Michelle gradually became consumed with the heat created deep within her loins by a guy she would have dismissed had she met him on the street. As he continued to fuck her relentlessly, and as her mind continued in a far away drift, her body began to respond. Mindless of the pain in her arms beneath her, mindless of the pain that her spanked ass felt as it was driven into the mattress with each thrust from her relentless attacker, mindless of the pain from the bruises on her face and from the vampire feeding on her tits, Michelle responded. For the second time in the course of this morning she wrapped her legs around a man who was raping her and began fucking him back. Only this time, she was not acting.
From his position on the floor, sideways in the fallen chair, Rick could hear everything. The sounds that banged against his ears were heightened in their horror by the total darkness that enveloped him. He heard the incessant protest of the bed springs. He heard the animalistic grunts of the man who was on the bed with his wife. He could hear the relentless slapping sounds that he knew was his wife’s crotch receiving thrust after thrust after thrust from the man on top of her. But what tore at him the worst were the unmistakable whimpers and cries of sexual ecstasy that were escaping from his wife’s throat!
On the bed, Michelle again felt her bikini top being tightened around her neck. She struggled quickly to get breathes of air, knowing that shortly they would be denied again, and when they were denied, when there was no more air to be had, she merely stared up at the man dominating her with eyes and mouth wide open. She and he both remained motionless, his dick buried deep inside her as they both contemplated how long she might last until blacking out. It was only when Michelle’s eyes began to roll back in their sockets, and her tongue began again to emerge from her mouth, that the man released the tension of the bikini around her neck, and as the woman’s chest again heaved with life saving breathes, her attacker’s penis again began going in and out of her sopping cunt with forceful thrusts.
In this fashion her rapist began playing Michelle like a violin—a violin player with a penis instead of a bow. With his bow he would make her howl in ecstasy with his strokes in and out of her, and then command her silence with a pause in his pumping of her with his cock at outward stroke, and with the slightest of pressure once again around her neck with the bikini top. Michelle looked up at him the entire time with wide eyes, like a rookie concert musician herself, watching her conductor. Except that in addition to her eyes, her mouth was also stuck on wide open, regardless of whether there were cries and whimpers coming from it as his cock churned her, or whether there was just wide open silence as she waited for her conductor’s next move.
Hesitations on his part while his cock was mostly withdrawn from her made it seem like time was stopped. In these moments, confusion and incredulity had replaced fear as the expressions that played over Michelle’s face as her eyes remained glued on her conductor. Then, a deep inward thrust would illicit a whimpering cry that would reverberate around the room and penetrate her husband’s eardrums as he lay on the floor sobbing in unmitigated humiliation.
During one of Billy’s hesitations at nearly full withdrawal, did Michelle actually thrust her lower abdomen toward him, reclaiming several inches of her rapist’s cock, or had she merely suffered an involuntary jerk of her body under this stressful circumstance? Regardless whether her movement was voluntary or not, it pushed her rapist over the top. He began fucking her with now crazed and ceaseless intensity.
The rocking of the bed vibrated in Rick’s head as he lay useless on the floor, in a world of darkness. And then he heard the cries that both people on the bed made as they mutually reached sexual climax! He grimaced in the pain of his humiliation as he listened to his newly wed in the throes of a monumental orgasm achieved with a strange man.
For the fourth time this long morning, the contents of a man’s testicles emptied deep within Michelle’s overworked vagina.
Soon, the entire room was once again quiet.
The man had collapsed heavily on top of Michelle and they both lie still, silent and spent.
Before long, however, Rick, in total anguish, could hear sobbing. He cocked his ears. He heard…BOTH of them crying!
Michelle had already crashed back to reality after her orgasm, and became overwhelmed with guilt and shame. Her arms pinned beneath her back were killing her. She squirmed underneath the weight of her rapist, trying to roll his body off her. She was successful only in feeling his still semi-rigid penis stir inside her pussy. It felt like it was stirring the bizarre cocktail that was inside her, consisting of the semen from the four different men who had fucked her this morning.
And now the man, still on top of her, was crying. His tears flowed down his face and fell onto hers as she continued to lie helplessly beneath his weight.
Desperate to alleviate the pain that she felt not only in her arms but over her entire body, Michelle gave another upward heave and twist with her body, and this time her spent rapist, still sobbing, slowly rolled off her. As his penis slid from her pussy and out of the leg opening of her bikini bottom, the elastic opening quickly snapped back tightly around her thigh. Back in place, it would limit the amount of semen that would trickle out of her.
To her great relief, Michelle was able to roll onto her side, away from the man, and get some circulation to return to her arms, hands and fingers, as well as take pressure at last off her spank-blistered ass. Their mutual crying spell had lapsed, and they both merely lay there now, their backs together, breathing hard.
Michelle was near exhaustion from what had been a true physical marathon. Over the past few hours she had been forced to have sex with her husband before an audience of three men who then slapped, spanking, choked and raped her. Numerous parts of body were aching. Added to this was the fear factor that returned to stalk her. She believed more than ever that this third man was the most unstable of the three rapists and that he might be capable of killing her at any minute.
“Please let us go now,” she whimpered. “You’ve gotten what you wanted.”
The man, however, didn’t move a muscle for ten minutes.
During this time, Rick would call out from time to time as best he could with the duct tape over his mouth. Each time Michelle would respond, quietly, with “It’s okay.” But she was very much afraid of what might happen next. She strained but in vain for the thousandth time against the tape that bound her wrists behind her back.
Finally, she felt the man getting up and moving off the bed. Too scared to move, she continued looking away from him, to the far wall. She thought that she should turn and keep her eyes on him, but her body froze in fear. She strained to listen, but the sound of her own heart beat was the only thing she could hear. She remained motionless. Time seemed to stop. At last she heard what seemed to be the sounds of the man getting dressed. She shut her eyes and prayed. She had the eerie feeling that he was staring at her as she lay there facing away from him on her side in a semi-fetal position, her hands bound behind her back, clad only in the skimpy bikini bottom that was soaked with sex and the bikini top still wrapped garishly around her neck where he had used it to choke her.
Then he felt his hands on her again! “No!” she cried. “PLEASE! NO MORE!” She bristled as she felt him tugging her bikini bottom off her hips and lowering it down her legs and off her feet. Facing away from him, with her eyes shut, her nude body stiffened, Michelle prayed. Next she felt the bikini top being ripped from around her neck. She continued to lay still, her body trembling. There was a pause, then she could feel that the man had crawled back onto the bed! Her fear level heightened even more!
The man had had to get on the bed to reach Michelle’s make-up kit, from which he pulled a pair of tiny scissors. He also saw the lipstick and, after staring at it a moment, pocketed it, just as he had the woman’s bikini. He then leaned over, took several long strands of Michelle’s long blonde hair in his fingers, and with the scissors snipped the hair close to the scalp. Her body trembled, and she gave a cry out, as she heard the snip of the scissors.
Michelle suspended her breathing as she waited for her rapist’s next move. She felt him leave the bed, and then heard the tiny plop of the scissors as he tossed them on the bed next to her. She did not see him carefully fold the strands of her souvenir hair and put them his pocket, along with the souvenir bikini and the souvenir lipstick.
Then she heard footsteps leading AWAY from the bed. She heard the chair that had barricaded the door to the bungalow being moved. She heard the door creak open, and then heard it close in an equally noisy way.
The room was suddenly quiet. Michelle, her nude body shivering, remained motionless for a long time, listening intently. There was total silence, nothing more. Then she heard the muffled cries of her husband. Dazed, exhausted, and numb, Michelle rolled over, facing the door to the bungalow. It was closed. There was no one else any longer with them in the room with her and her husband!
With difficulty, Michelle scooted her body to the edge of the bed. She was able to put her feet to the floor and then managed to sit up. She then looked in horror at the sight of her husband, lying sideways on the floor, tied in a sitting position to the overturned chair.
“Rick!” she cried. “They’re gone!”
Rick had at last been able to see again when the guy named Bobby had taken his shirt from Rick’s head. With his cheek against the floor, looking upwards, he used his re-found vision to stare in wide eyed horror at his young wife as she sat, naked and dazed, on the edge of the bed, her hands taped behind her back. Her blonde hair was terribly disheveled, and some of it fell over her face, but he could see enough of her face to see how bruised it was and how it was streaked and smeared with a garish excess of lipstick and teary mascara. Then there were the ugly red choke marks that circled her throat and the trail of numerous, dull red hickeys that covered her bare breasts.
Michelle was looking downward at him forlornly, fighting back yet more tears as she saw the way her husband was looking at her. “Oh, Rick!” she cried. “What did they do to us!?” She then lost the battle with the tears and they now flowed freely down her bruised cheeks.
As she sat there crying, Rick began struggling impatiently at his binds, and muttering through the tape over his mouth until Michelle realized that she needed to try to untie him. She stood, awkwardly, and then took tentative, dizzy steps toward where her husband lay. She had literally been fucked so hard she could hardly walk. She stared down at her husband on the floor through tear clouded eyes. “I…I can’t untie you,” she whimpered. “My own hands are tied!”
Rick, on the verge of madness, muttered something. Michelle dropped to the floor beside him, and with her back toward his face, felt blindly with her fingers behind her back until she located the tape that covered her husband’s mouth. She was able to pull it off with several, surely painful, tugs.
With his mouth at last free again, Rick took in gulps of air and emitted a primordial cry of anger and frustration. Michelle rolled over on the floor to look at him.
“Untie me!” he cried. “Fucking UNTIE me!”
Michelle rolled over again and tried to get her hands in a position to work on the tape that was heavily wrapped around him. But it was useless. She was unable to do it. Rick’s cursing was not helping.
In frustration, Michelle managed to get to her knees, which was difficult to do without the use of her arms. From there, she again stood. She now felt a quantity of sperm tricking from her pussy and running down the insides of her thighs. Ignoring this, she looked around her in desperation. She saw the small pair of scissors on the bed where her last rapist had tossed them. Crawling onto the bed, she picked them up with her hands behind her back, then went to the floor again.
She scooted backwards up against her husband. “Can you get your fingers in these scissors and cut my tape first?” she asked.
With the tiny amount of freedom that Rick had with his fingers, he was able to secure the handle end of the scissors. Michelle then positioned herself in such a way that she was able to rub the tape that bound her wrists in between the scissors’ blades, and Rick was able to begin making a series of tiny snips. It took several long minutes, and at one point Rick dropped the scissors and Michelle had to feel for them with her fingers behind her back, and return them to him, but eventually he was able to cut the tape enough so that his wife could tear it the rest of the off by pulling her wrists apart.
At last her hands were free! The poor circulation in her arms, however, had left them numb and weak. She spent the next several minutes rubbing her arms, trying to get some feeling back into them. Meanwhile, Rick was pleading with her to untie him from the chair to which he had been bound for several hours now.
Michelle was crying anew as she set to work freeing her husband. Through the tears and the hair that constantly fell over her face, it was difficult for her to see what she was doing. Rick became impatient as she struggled, then yelled in pain when she was at last able to peel away the tape that bound his naked arms to the chair.
After Michelle was finally able to free his arms, Rick himself was then able to proceed in undoing the tape holding his legs to the chair’s legs.
As he did that, Michelle stood and stumbled toward the door. “What are you doing?” Rick yelled at her.
At the door, Michelle pushed a chair against it, barricading it. “They…they might come BACK!” she sobbed.
She then stumbled back to the bed and sat on the edge. She ran her hands through her hair and watched as her husband tugged his way loose from the last remaining tape that held him to the overturned chair.
At last he was free and staggered to his feet. Michelle, still sitting on the edge of the bed, cried and held out her arms. “Oh, Ricky! Hold me, Ricky!”
Her husband avoided her outreached arms and dropped to a sitting position beside her on the bed, his head swimming. Michelle threw her arms around his neck and started crying like she hadn’t cried before. “Ricky”, was all she was able to say, repeating his name over and over.
After a long while, it dawned on Michelle that her husband’s body was rigid, tense. She wiped the hair from her eyes and looked at him. “Rickey, are you okay,” cried. “Did they hurt you bad?”
“I’m okay,” he replied. “Yeah, they roughed me up good. But I’ll be okay.”
“Let’s call the police!” she cried. “And…I should go to a hospital. I’ve got their DNA—”
“No!” Rick cut her off. “Didn’t you hear them? They’ll kill us if we go to the police or the hospital.”
“But…but…” Michelle sputtered. “They RAPED me! Those bastards need to be CAUHGT!”
“NO,” Rick said. His voice was low, calm, steady. “It’s best we just get the fuck out of here on the next plane.”
Michelle jumped to her feet. “But…but…” She could only sputter. “Those bastards…they need to go to JAIL! They’ll…they’ll rape somebody ELSE if we don’t do something!”
Rick looked at her in defeat, and then averted his eyes. The bruises to her face and choke marks around her neck were hard enough to look at, but the sight of those hickeys and bite marks on her tits filled him with disgust. “Will you get some clothes on,” he muttered.
Standing before him naked, Michelle covered her breasts with her arms. “I…”she started to protest, but found herself at a complete loss for words. She then slumped back down on edge of the bed. She wanted to be hugged. Why wouldn’t her husband HUG her!? She actually felt him slide AWAY from her! She started to cry all over again at this. Her husband sat beside her saying nothing, the picture of dejection, staring at the floor between his feet.
After several moments of uncomfortable silence, he finally spoke. His voice was flat and so soft that Michelle could hardly hear: “You had your ankles around that guy’s neck.”
This hit Michelle in the stomach. It hurt her far worse than anything her rapists had done to her. “What did you say?!” she gasped.
“I said you had your fucking ankles around that guy’s neck!”
“I HAD to!” she cried. “They were going to hurt you. I was ACTING! I was trying to do what they wanted so they’d finish and leave us alone!’
“You weren’t acting with that black bastard!” He said the word “acting” with a major dose of sarcasm. “And that other fuckin’ son-of-a-bitch!”
Michelle looked at her husband through tear drenched eyes. She opened her mouth to protest, and her mouth remained gaping for a long moment, but the only thing that came out was an exasperated exhale of air. She knew it was useless to protest this point. She knew as well as her husband did that while she had most certainly been raped—and brutally so—she had also most certainly fucked her attackers back, and not only the big, black man but the little, creepy white guy, as well. As incredibly impossible as this now seemed to Michelle, she knew it to be the truth, and a tidal wave of shame and humiliation flooded over her.
(In fact, shame and humiliation would accompany Michelle again when, several months later, alone at night in her bed, she would give in for the first time to the acknowledgement that the best orgasms she had ever had had been at the hands—or rather, the penises—of the black stud who raped her with his horse’s dick, and the creepy guy who had taken her to unknown reaches of the psychedelic. After masturbating that night with a silk scarf tied tightly around her neck and a huge, black dildo purchased on the internet inside her cunt, a cloud of self-loathing descended upon her. However, with each succeeding occasion during which she would engage in this form of “self entertainment”, the shame, humiliation and self loathing would gradually dissipate, each time more and more until, eventually, she became cool with it.)
“Rick,” she now said carefully, searching for words. “I…I don’t know what came over me.” Her already bruised red cheeks now flushed a deeper crimson. “I really don’t know!” Something told her that pleading that the devil had made her do it would not be an accepted defense, in spite of the fact that, well, that actually might have been exactly what it was! (She would thoroughly convince herself of this once she began masturbating to the memory of this day.)
“Look, Rick, I am NOT the guilty party here! I’m the VICTIM! The VICTIM, Rick! Those guys beat me and raped me! ME! I’M the victim!” She then dissolved into tears, and could only continue when the sobbing subsided. Amid sniffles, she pleaded: “Rick…honey…we can put this BEHIND us! Okay?”
“You fucking CAME with them, for god’s sakes, Michelle!”
Feeling as if she were about to throw up, the naked woman dropped to the floor on her knees at the feet of her equally naked husband. Crying, she asked: “So, what am I now, Rick? Damaged goods or something!?” When her husband didn’t respond, Michelle repeated her demand, now in a shrieking voice: “Tell me! Am I DAMAGED GOODS to you?! AM I?! RICK!?”


THE END
9 comments

Anonymous readerReport

2013-12-21 06:19:13
Very well written and original.

anonymous readerReport

2012-12-02 04:36:29
could have told the whole story in half the time,,too long drawn out,iskipped half the sections aqnd still found it boring////

anonymous readerReport

2012-07-14 04:25:50
That was awesome but what you should do is have a sequel where she gets her revenge on her husband for being such a prick.

anonymous readerReport

2012-05-22 19:35:23
Mario that was well written.

Anonymous readerReport

2012-02-15 00:32:12
Rick ass should have gotten more abuse with his punk ass since he wants to put blame on Michell's for her body being stimulate. They should have tucked him in the ass and made him cum so he could c how it feel. Great story.

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