Chapter 8
Torne's big cock-shaft continued to expand. "Hell kill her," Karen whispered in awe. The glans alone was enough to strike fear in the heart of any woman.
"She may think that she's going to die," Vincent said, "but she won't. I taught her too well.
She can survive anything a man can throw at her."
"Not him," Karen said. "Not that."
Torne released Becky. She moved a few steps away from him but was too frightened to run. Her eyes were frozen with fear as she stared at his blood-engorged cock-knob. She tried to think. As with Vincent, her mind became almost inoperative at critical moments.
Perhaps, if the act was to be a thing of love, she could survive. But she knew that it wouldn't be. She had taunted Torne in the past, had made him feel small, and now he would take his revenge on her body with pure hate in his heart. And it would be a brutal, destructive thing.
"You aint going to try to run, Miss Becky?" Torne asked, finally speaking.
"I think I'd give it a try, Becky," Vincent laughed.
"I'd only get to the gate," Becky said, trying to be brave while her heart fluttered wildly.
"You gonna take your clothes off?" Torne asked. "Or you want me to tear them off?"
"No," Becky said. "Ill do it. I'd like to leave here with at least something intact and in one piece."
"Funny, very fucking funny," Vincent said, slapping his hands together.
Becky moved very slowly, pulling the tail of her blouse from her skirt. She undid the top button, then the second. Something flickered in Torne's emotionless eyes. He was counting the buttons and watching the soft white flesh grow downward toward the center of her bra.
She fumbled. The third button was undone. Her bra was skimpy. Torne could see the bulge of her tit-flesh spilling over and around the cups. His nostrils flared.
"She's teasing him," Vincent said. "Good."
"Good?" Karen asked.
"It'll bring better entertainment," Vincent said gleefully. "Hell try to shove it through her guts when he gets started."
"She's not teasing," Karen said helplessly. "She's only trying to postpone the awful thing that's going to happen to her. Oh, Vincent, if it has to happen, don't make me stay here and watch."
"I assure you that it won't be a bloody orgy," Vincent said. "Now, stop squirming and sit quietly. Torne has always been a gentleman with my girls. I thought it was very considerate of him to allow Becky to remove her own clothing."
Becky shucked the blouse, then reached behind her to unfasten her bra. She allowed one cup to fall. A pale tit showed itself, the nipple frozen against the spreading areola.
Torne licked his lips.
The second cup dropped. Both alabaster-like globes were fully exposed.
"Look, damn you," Becky hissed to the big Negro. "Get your fucking eyes full."
"I'm looking and waiting," Torne said, but he made no move to touch her.
The zipper on Becky's skirt made a grating sound. Then she did a slow wiggle with her ass as she eased the skirt down her thighs and stepped clear of it.
Torne shuffled his bad foot and took a firm grip on his thick cock-stem. As long as Becky had lived in the Kingston mansion, he had never seen her naked. He'd seen only her bitter mouth and scathing eyes. Never the lovely young body that lay beneath the clothing.
She was almost as beautiful as Karen, he thought. Her panties were sheer, like wearing nothing. He could count each dark curl on her cunt. The cunt-hair excited him. He could never remember having seen a blonde woman with black hair on her pussy. But then, he'd never before seen a white pussy this naked.
Becky eased the panties downward. The dark curls began popping over the edge of the waistband. Torne looked toward Vincent for final approval, as if he suspected a trick or that the whole thing was a product of his imagination. He gripped his throbbing prick more tightly to keep from coming.
Vincent nodded, like the emperor giving the gladiator the kill sign. Torne hobbled forward on his bad foot.
Becky showed nervousness. All the while she had been removing her clothing, she had been placing it in a neat pile behind her. A plan had been formulating in her mind. She was young and strong, and certainly capable of outrunning a crippled black. She'd face the gate when she got to it. There was a slim chance that Denim had let Agatha out and had failed to lock it.
"Take one last look at my pretty white ass, Torne!" Becky screamed, then turned, scooped up her clothing, and dashed for the door.
Karen looked surprised. "If she was going to run, why did she take off her clothes?"
"She wanted to dig the knife in Torne for one last time!" Vincent hissed. "She won't get far." He sprang to his feet and dragged Karen toward the door through which the naked girl had fled.
They stood at the edge of the tall white columns, watching Torne stumble after the running girl. She was losing articles of her clothing as she ran without looking back. She soon outdistanced her pursuer and was lost in the darkness of the garden.
"Damnit," Vincent growled. "I'd hate to see her escape. I was going to enjoy this more than I did Agatha. I think Torne needs a little help." He left Karen's side for a moment and the garden was suddenly flooded with light.
"Run, Becky, run!" Karen screamed as she spotted the fleeing girl.
Vincent came back laughing. He watched the nude girl ducking behind the bushes and trying to make her way to the gardener's cottage. She had lost all of her clothing.
Becky's small fists were hammering at the door of the cottage. Karen supposed that Billy had fixed the lock since Torne had broken it that day. She could hear Becky's cries.
"Oh, God! Billy! Open up!"
"Billy will fight him," Karen said.
"Yes," Vincent agreed, "and Torne will tear him limb from limb."
Becky continued to beat at the door. It did not open and no light came on. Karen was glad.
She hated to see Becky lose, but the girl stood a better chance against Torne than Billy Denim did. No man could stand up to Torne in a fair fight. But a woman with a strong body and plenty of nerve could possibly survive on a battlefield where her only weapon was sex.
"He's gone," Karen said.
"Probably drove Agatha home," Vincent said coldly. "I always thought he was too softhearted for an ex-cop."
Becky turned. "Help me!" She cringed with her back to the door. Like a slow but steady tortoise, Torne kept moving toward her. She lunged away from the cottage door and ran toward the gate, then screamed horribly as she saw that Billy had locked it behind him.
Her hands reached upward. She tried to climb, slipped, and tried again. She looked over her shoulder. Torne was reaching for her.
"No! Oh, no!" she cried.
"He's got her!" Vincent said gleefully.
Karen's heart did flip-flops. She could only see the writhing shadow of the girl clinging to the gate. Her straining body was several feet off the ground and Torne's big hands were at her waist. He was supporting her more than trying to tear her away from the gate.
Karen heard Becky cry out.
"Oh, dear God!"
Becky could feel Torne's big cock-head brushing beneath her protruding buttocks. She tried to pull her very accessible ass inward but could not do so without losing the monkey- like grip she had with her feet on the crossbars. The possibility remained that she could tear herself from his grasp and continue her climb. The contact with his prick continued, and she was startled at the manner in which the bulbous glans dominated her rift. If anything, his prick-meat had grown larger during the brief chase. Once she had thought she could take it inside her body if it became absolutely necessary to do so. Now she wasn't sure.
"Don't, Torne... " she pleaded.
"You scared, Miss Becky?" he asked. "Why just the other day you asked me if I'd like to feel your tits. Well, now I'm gonna feel you all over."
"I... I'm sorry I tempted you, Torne," she said. "Oh!" She could feel her straining cunt-hps slowly opening to his blood-engorged cock-knob. This gave her faint hope that she would be able to take the penetration, and she was suddenly more angry than fearful. "Why me?" she groaned, her labia stretching like rubber bands about his glans. "Why... uhhhh... not that black-haired slut with Vincent?"
"Miss Karen ain't done me no wrong," Torne grunted. "I don't want to hurt her."
"You want to hurt me?"
"Afraid I do, Miss Becky," Torne said. "Plenty bad. Fact is, white whore that you are, you ain't never come up against a cock like old Torne is gonna feed you. All twelve inches." He chuckled. "Give or take an inch or two either way."
"Twelve... uhhhhhhh?" Becky's hands tightened on the gate. His cock-head was inside her, his thick shaft was slowly following. It moved mercilessly and with great purpose, and her cunt-canal was brutally resisting every inch of its progress.
"Cry, you white bitch!" Torne hissed.
"No, damn you!" she retorted.
Becky tried bravely to accept the thing that was happening to her. And she was trying even harder not to cry out in pain and give her attacker additional pleasure. She prayed silently. His progress was tedious and prolonged. She pushed away from the bars, deliberately trying to fall from the gate and perhaps escape total impalement on his cock for the moment. Torne's strong hands held her almost immobile and his stiff prick forced her back to the bars. Becky renewed her grip, once again thinking that she could pull her body upward and climb away from his punishing stalk. He forced another inch of his thick shaft into her straining cunt.
"Uh. Uh. Uh." She tried to count the gut-bursting inches. One. Two. Three. His rod pushed deeper into her cunt-hole. Four or five? Beads of sweat stood on her forehead and trickled along her flaring nostrils. Her heavy tits were also bathed with a hot dampness. The pressure between her legs was mounting. Her clit was being crushed to its very roots by his torturous pole. And still it kept coming at her.
She'd lost count of the inches. All of it, part of it, it didn't matter. It was just one long, broad hurt. "Oh, God, Torne," she whimpered, beginning to break down. "No more. I... I think I'm dying!"
"You're doing okay, Missy," Torne said. He groaned and humped another inch into her pussy-channel. "You got a lot more of this good thing coming to you yet. When I feed a woman, I give her a feast."
"I can't take it," she sobbed. "Too big... uhhhh... too long!"
"Just right," Torne disagreed, straining. "Tight, like a drum."
Becky had no fight left. Her fingers released their grip, her feet slipped from their perch.
Her entire weight dropped just as Torne gave a mightly upward fuck-thrust. "Aiiiiiiiii!" She screamed horribly as she found herself totally impaled on his stiff lance.
The hurt was still shooting through her genitals when she heard Torne give out with a series of short grunts. And then she felt huge quantities of his cock-juice being dumped into her prick-filled cunt. It was disgusting, she thought, but delightfully soothing.
Becky was both laughing and crying as Torne extracted his big cock and let her feet rest on the ground. Her soft white flesh had been too much for him. It had made him a victim of premature ejaculation--a problem he had never had with black girls.
"You are just one big farce, Torne," she said, mocking him again. "All prick and nothing else. A good piece of ass is more than you can take."
"I need another crack at you," Torne said.
"Then take it," Becky laughed, "if you can get that big black root hard again. Pitiful. Pitiful."
Torne glared but said nothing. He, too, was disappointed with his performance. He turned as Vincent called from the mansion.
"Bring her back, Torne. I want Karen to see that repeated close-up."
"You lousy bastard," Becky yelled toward Vincent. "He couldn't put his soft prick in a wash tub, much less my tight little twat!"
Becky was still laughing as Torne picked her up and carried her back toward the house.
She was no longer afraid. She had survived and she had beaten him. His once dangerous tool hung against his pants like a soft bloated sausage.
"Vincent," Karen said. "I don't care to see it again."
"This is a command performance," Vincent said. "Into the house with her, Torne."
Torne placed Becky on the carpet. She smirked at him. "Well?"
"It'll take a minute," said the reluctant Negro.
"It'll take days," Becky crowed. "You've blown your whole wad, big boy!" She found herself staring at his limp cock and thinking how it had been down at the gate. The shaft was as long as a man's arm from elbow to wrist, the knob as big as a man's fist. And stiff. Very, very stiff. "Play with me," she encouraged. "Play with my pussy and see if you can't get another hard-on."
He knelt and placed a big hand on her furry cunt-mound. She willingly spread her legs and he ran a finger through her cum-filled slit. "You ain't scared?" he asked.
"Not anymore," she laughed. "Not of anything you can do to me, big boy. Except maybe eat me alive."
He studied the hairy, red-lipped gash between her thighs, then lowered his head, capped his mouth over the steamy cunt-hole and began to tongue-fuck her.
Becky looked surprised. She'd practically invited the action, but Torne's abrupt response was totally unexpected. The thick tongue threading into her hole brought mixed feelings.
Her pussy was beginning to tingle deliciously. She was no longer so positive that she hated the big butler.
Torne slurped at her.
"Ah... ah... ah," she said, then more vigorously, "oh, eat my cunt, you big lug!" Torne sucked.
She loved his tongue on her clitoris, loved the way it stiffened and curled and slithered into her seeping slit. Torne slurped and sucked and pushed. She squealed ecstatically. "Oh, you sweet tongue-fucking bastard. Black is beautiful!"
Karen was mesmerized by the action, and her excitement grew as she watched the big buck orally stimulate his victim. Or was she a victim? Becky was bright-eyed and panting, on the verge of orgasm. Her ass writhed on the carpet and perspiration was popping up all over.
"I'm... I'm com... com... com... " Becky gasped.
She didn't quite make it. Vincent interrupted and Torne jerked his mouth away from the girl's quivering twat. "Damnit, Torne," Vincent scolded. "Can't you control your savage instincts? The shameless slut is enjoying what you're doing. Punish her, man. Punish her!"
Torne rose apologetically to his knees.
Becky looked along her quivering belly. One more quick deep thrust of his thick tongue would have brought her to a climax. She was at the moment hanging halfway between ecstasy and total neglect. "Do something!" she cried. "Anything."
Torne's prick was hard again, and his glans looked more menacing than ever, but Becky was eager to try her luck. Her thighs stiffened automatically as he placed his cock-head against her fluid-soaked slit. In spite of her own desires, her mind was remembering the painful impalement at the gate. She was finding it difficult to control her reflexes.
"Um." The lips of her pussy quickly enveloped his glans, but the mouth of her pussy was more reluctant. She tried to adjust, to make it easier, but it hurt as it did the first time he had shoved his prick-meat into her.
She whimpered out her hurt, sorry that she had laughed at him. His big cock was tearing relentlessly into her tight cunt-channel. She was beginning to doubt her capabilities again.
"Torne... stop!"
"I... can't... stop!" Torne thought it strange, but he no longer wanted to hurt her. He didn't hate her anymore. She had sighed under his caresses, she had responded. But he could not stop trying to bury his throbbing cock in her warm, quivering belly.
"Uhhhhhhhh!" Becky could not count the inches. She only knew that she was relieved when his cock stopped coming at her, when her pussy had miraculously taken all that he had to give her.
"It... it's all right," she said.
Torne began to pole her with long deep fuck-thrusts. In spite of her high degree of titillation, Becky cried out with each new penetration. She was miserable, and yet she was on the verge of experiencing something she had never tasted before. It mattered not that the man who mounted her was black, or that he was her former servant. It was true that she had shamed him and that he had tried to shame her in return. Both had succeeded, she supposed. When he had impaled her on his prick at the gate, she had felt utterly violated, but now elation had taken the place of shame. Her body was aroused in a manner that neither Vincent nor any other man had been able to match.
"Fuck me, fuck me!" she cried, her face contorted with lust. Her cunt-walls hugged and milked at his thick stalk as his glans slammed against her cervix. "Drive that big wonderful prick up to my tits!" she cried.
"You sniveling whore!" Vincent screamed, disappointed again.
Even in the midst of such supreme sexual bliss, Becky managed to turn her face toward Vincent and giggle.
Vincent clenched his fists, his face purple with rage. "Is there a woman alive who doesn't want to be fucked? Just one, somewhere in the whole universe? My God. I think they'd all like to die with the biggest prick on earth penetrating their guts and shooting cum up into their throats!" He looked at Karen. Her face was flushed, her eyes intensely bright. She had one hand between her legs, squeezing her pussy. Vincent jerked her hand away and slapped the back of it like a scolding schoolmaster. "You, too?"
"I was just... " Karen began weakly.
"I know what you were trying to do," Vincent bellowed.
"I was just... "
"You were just thinking about finger-fucking yourself!"
"Eeeeeeee!"
Becky was squealing like a happy girl on a roller-coaster, drawing Vincent's attention again. She was clinging to Torne, meeting his magnificent fuck-thrusts with a high lifting movement of her churning ass. His thick prick-shaft slithered through her fluid-filled channel more easily now, and she was accepting every inch of it without the slightest discomfort. Once again she was obviously quite confident that her cunt could take on anything, be it man or beast. It almost embarrassed her to think that she had once considered Vincent the supreme lover.
"Torne," she gasped suddenly. "I... oh, shit. I can't stop it. I'm coming!"
Torne filled her belly with cock-juice for a second time. It lashed back hotly and spurted around his deeply imbedded prick. Somewhere deep inside her belly, Becky kept the remainder of the gut-washing load.
"Torture, shit!" Vincent spat. "She thought it was pure heaven."
"Oh, uh," Karen whispered.
Vincent looked at her. She had one finger around the crotch of her panties, and it was moving gently against her clit.
"Oh, hell. Not again!"
"I... I... " she stammered.
Vincent spread his smoking jacket open and looked down at his own throbbing hard-on.
"Well," he drawled. "I suppose I can wait a few minutes to punish you." He pushed her back on the sofa, pulled her already' fluid-soaked panty-crotch aside, penetrated her easily, then began a vigorous screwing of her hungry pussy.
Karen sighed and said nothing. Vincent had no way of knowing that she had just come from watching Torne and Becky fuck. Feeling so warm and gooey inside, it was even difficult to dread the pink room.