Chapter 9
They didn't come to her with whips and chains and rip off her clothes and drag her out to be ravished and raped... as Helga expected. They treated her with queenly indulgence, giving her time to think and drink and watch the closed circuit television set.
On the screen she watched a close-up of a burly naked Mexican man sitting on a lounge. His erection was of obscene proportions—somewhere in between King-Kong and Paul Bunyan. A young blonde girl, tall and willowy, who reminded Helga of herself, was kneeling subserviently between his dark brown thighs and holding the ebony shaft of his hard cock with her delicate white fingers.
Her pink tongue lashed out hungrily and curled around the swelling mushroom head of the man's dark penis. Her luscious wet lips played slippery tricks, sliding and sucking the slitted tip of the lust- thickened penis. The girl's salacious teasing was obviously having its effect on the man... he grabbed her head brutally with both hands and, at the same time, savagely thrust this thick shaft of hard male flesh deep... well past her tonsils.
Oh, so that's the trick! They're going to show me dirty movies to get me excited. They don't know how stubborn a Norwegian girl can be... she snickered, pouring herself a drink and settling down in the over-stuffed chair. What she failed to realize is that resistance is the first stage of submission. With a fatalistic masochism, she poured herself a drink from the bottle of whiskey they'd left for her. Whiskey... porno flicks... what do they think I am? In a way, she wished they would drug her.
Time dragged on, and out of boredom, she took a sip of the whiskey. After the second one, it didn't burn as badly and she settled down in the chair and watched as the faceless girl on the screen closed her wet lips around the man's lust swollen cock, fully aware that this was calculated to play upon her basest instincts... her masochistic tendencies... to ready their victim for tonight's on-stage slaughter.
To pass the time she tried to sleep, but couldn't. There were no magazines to read... nothing to do but watch the screen.
When the bottle reached the halfway mark, everything started taking effect simultaneously. Gradually, the whip's crackling and hissing, sluicing down over tender white flesh, disappeared from the eye of her memory and a flutter of unwanted sensuality teased through her veins. The cries of rapture bubbling from Polly's mouth—stuffed well with Mexican man-cock—shouted out above the helpless screams of pain and her well-anesthetized brain lingered on this vision as she stared at the young gringa girl on the screen.
Helga turned away from the screen and looking in a wall mirror, saw her stunning good looks and her wildly voluptuous figure that swelled out from the sheer robe she wore. Slightly drunk, she reached up to cup a breast, weighing it before her reflection and grinned. She had never touched herself like this, but it felt good... damnably good! If others were to look at her naked white body, squirming helplessly beneath a mass of overpowering male muscle, it was her privilege to peek first. Nervously, she poured herself a stiff drink—at least three fingers of amber liquor—and chugged it down.
With tantalizing slowness, she stood looking in the crystal mirror, taking in her own figure, turning this way and that, appraising herself objectively... as would her live audience. Hers was an incredible figure... tall, yet fully developed with curves in the right places. And her full, creamy breasts... why had she never noticed before how big and pink her nipples were? She drank and turned again to the television screen.
The blonde girl was naked now, sitting in the chair. Now the dark man was kneeling in front of her and had forced the innocent looking young thing to put her legs up over the arms of the chair. Her knees were hooked over the arms of the chair and her full firm white thighs were split wide open. Apparently this was to be the opposite side of fellatio, for the man roughly spread the girls eagerly trembling pale legs wider still, forcing her to shove her glistening pink cunt forward to the edge of the chair. The brown man grinned lewdly and slowly spread the wetly throbbing lips of the girl's pussy before burying his dark face into the pink wet hole of her sex.
Despite her captive plight, and despite her sworn resistance, stage two of submission crept to centerfront. Helga fought the temptation to touch herself... for a minute... until her free hand brushed accidentally over her stomach and pubic mound, sending goosebumps prickling over her satin flesh. Lust crept through her craven white flesh and nerves like slow, warm syrup... if she kept watching the screen, she would become insanely excited. That would make their torture easier... from a physical standpoint. But what about her morals?
She forced herself to ignore the screen and concentrate on her imprisonment. Much to her chagrin she realized they were one and the same: If she were back home in North Dakota the idea of going before a live audience naked, would be repulsive. Here she was a prisoner... free of guilt, free of moral bonds. All that seemed too heady a thought and her blue eyes returned to the television screen where the girl's head was flailing back and forth with an abandoned passion as her slender hips churned and ground wildly upward against the man's slithering tongue darting, licking and stabbing deep into her writhing pussy. Helga moaned... just once... a sound of hunger and despair. She had cum that way once...
By the time the guards knocked on the door, she was ready... giddy with drink and half-naked. Lewdly, she sprawled in the chair, one tanned leg swung over the arm, her thin dress pulled up over her knees, giving the guards an eye-opening shot at the sopping crotchband of her panties. Her blonde hair was disheveled and swept over one blue eye. She grinned impishly up at the two Mexican guards who had come to fetch her.
"Hellllo..."
She winked at the shorter one, her eyes rolling drunkenly in her head. Her loins were hungrily throbbing, achingly teasing her. For six hours she had been alone, thinking of the events of the past few days... Maria's hot tongue, Jose's handsome profile, and Polly's cries of ecstasy under the whip.
The two guards smiled nefariously at her as they helped her out of the chair. They grinned at one another and said something in Spanish as she wobbled to her feet, eyeing them with a wicked smile.
"Señorita... take off your dress so we can get you ready. The General ees anxious," he commanded in halting English.
They leered at her with insinuated smiles and politely waited for her to strip down. The young woman felt a certain kind of depravity in stripping on command before these two guards who could easily beat her bloody for disobeying their command. She had to strip, didn't she? Dizzily, she slipped the cotton dress off over her head and stood looking at the men submissively, her huge creamy breasts, heavy and as well-rounded as melons, proudly thrust out.
Slowly, taking her time and driving both men wild with lust, she cupped them and squeezed them. Helga smirked, seeing how the taller man clenched his fists and how his slightly smaller friend ground his teeth together in frustration. She discovered facets of her soul and emotions she had never dreamed she possessed... and teasing these men was only the frosting. Letting the tip of her velvety tongue wetly lick her pouting lips, she thrust her hips and pelvis insolently forward. Helga stood with her hands on her flaring hips, naked except for her flimsy bikini panties.
She captivated them with her insolence... jutting her hips obscenely forward and rolling the material of her panties down. She peeled down the skin-tight gossamer panties slowly, the red tip of her tongue sticking out of her mouth, her big beautiful doll-like blue eyes impudent.
Turning she faced the men again, brazenly taking her time, defying all her principles. Her eyes caught the taller man's hand and how he barely resisted the temptation to rip her panties from her voluptuously tanned body. "Hurry up, Señorita! The General can not be kept waiting!"
"Fuck him..." she said, liking the way the word rolled off her tongue—a word never used by her before.
"You will, Señorita, you will," The taller man flicked his wrist to check the time, then stepped forward with an irritating snicker. Helga pulled her panties down and let them flutter to the floor.
Hands were all over her, dressing her in a silk robe of rich red with black embroidery: the silken feel cooled her senses... for a moment, and then she flushed with rampant shame and embarrassment as they led her down the hallway to the darkened stage. One of the guards pointed to the bed, instructed her to go towards it, and then the lights flooded on.