Chapter 7
Francoise let herself into her room, rather surprised to find that Ahmed was not there. She felt tired and rather sick with the evening's business. Perhaps it was just as well if he'd fallen asleep in his own hotel and would not be round until late the next day.
Things had taken a slightly different shape today. Clients who hitherto had been content with straightforward fucking had begun to want to experiment. Two of them had wanted to thrust their pricks up her ass-hole. She'd refused at first; she wasn't used to the idea of that sort of thing. But the first one had offered her double and after some hesitation she'd been unable to refuse. The act had proved painful in spite of the lubricant and had at one point made her feel sick. She'd been on the point a number of times of trying to wriggle away and refuse to go on, so considerable had been the pain in her rectum and the sweeping waves of disgust which had consumed her. But each time the grip in which she was held as her customer stuffed her anus and the thought of the money had choked the words in her throat, drowning them in her moans. When he'd finished she'd lain, bottom uncovered, face buried in the bed, until, with a few inappropriately cheerful words of what a tight little back-crack she had and how much he'd enjoyed it, the monster had gone. At last she'd got up and washed and gone down again to take up her stance.
When the whole procedure had been repeated she'd been torn once again between refusing outright and permitting what, after all, was no longer a horrible novelty. It had been easier the second time although it had made her twice as sore and left her feeling as if she were walking about with a hole the size of a bomb crater between her buttocks.
She undressed slowly and began to wash again. Now it would become part of the night's activities-to be buggered between fucks. Then they would be wanting her to suck them off and God knew what else would follow. She bathed her anus, tenderly, and tried to see it in her mirror. It felt inflamed and it seemed, strangely, like a dark secret she must keep from Ahmed. If only there were another way of making so much money ...
Recently she'd found her attitude modifying slightly. She was no longer the girl who had left her home in Marseilles to take a job with a business firm in Paris, knowing that she was going to make money by her looks, whatever the cost. Several weeks of being presented so nude and intimate for the pleasures of strangers, some of them ugly with bad breath, coarse tongues and dirty bodies, had made her feel that perhaps she could manage with less money. If only Ahmed could get a job, she felt almost inclined to become a normal housewife, staying in and doing the shopping and washing his clothes and being able to lavish all her love, emotional and physical, on him alone.
She pulled her dressing gown over her nakedness, not bothering to tie it with the cord, and then she lay on the bed, aware still of the tender heat at the core of her bottom.
She had dozed off when the knock came on the door. It took a second for the noise to penetrate the haze of sleep which inundated her and the knock was repeated before she began to swing her legs off the bed to open the door for Ahmed.
Outside, when she unlocked the door, three strange men were standing, men who pushed immediately into the room without being asked and locked the door behind them.
So sure had she been that it was her lover that she'd not bothered to pull the dressing-gown around her and her breasts and down to her feet had been uncovered in a long panel of nudity as the men moved in. Now, too astonished to protest, she became aware of their eyes rifling her form, her nakedness, and instinctively pulled the gown tightly around her. She was too frightened to cry out and she simply stared at them with her large, almond-shaped eyes filled with terror as one of them, with the most vicious expression she'd ever seen, began to speak.
"We're here from the protection organization," he said. "We've come to tell you what a naughty little girl you're being and how much those who have your interests at heart disapprove."
A certain streak of indignation began to merge with her fright after the initial shock. After all. this was a hotel in the centre of civilized Paris.
"What do you mean?" she said. "And how do I know who you are?"
"There is no need for any discussion," the man said, his eyes moving over the curves of her body where they indented and pushed out the dressing gown. "This man, Ahmed ben Lulla-you've been giving him money?"
A new fright gripped her at the mention of his name. Had they seen him? What had happened? Her instinct told her to deny that she knew him or that she'd ever given him anything, but then reason asserted itself.
"Yes," she said. "I've given him money."
The man smiled, an extremely unpleasant expression.
"You will give him no more," he said. "And, as from now, the organization will take two instead of one-third of what you make in the exercise of your-uh-talents." He continued to look at her appreciatively and glanced away to her clothes which hung flimsily over a chair. Neither of the other two men had spoken. They stood with slight smiles which were replicas of their spokesman's. She felt as if she were surrounded by tigers. But her indignation bridled at the injustice of what they had threatened.
"The money I've given him was my own," she said. "I gave it him as a present and nobody has any right to tell me what to do with my money."
With a movement which took her totally by surprise, the man caught her wrist and twisted her arm behind her back so that she twisted involuntarily round and fell against him, back towards him. Her dressing gown fell open and, even with the sudden pain which shot through her arm, she was more aware of his eyes looking down at her breasts which poked whitely, pointedly out of the open gown. The other two men moved a little so that they could look at that naked, rounded, front view of her body.
"Little girls like you do not try to argue with the organization," the man who held her said softly. "You obey or you ... "
With a shock which ran like ice-cold water down her spine she felt the flat of a knife blade drawn across her throat. Her immediate reaction was to cry out. He clamped a hand over her mouth and she bit it wildly, hearing his oath and the order that he barked to the other two to leave the bitch to him.
She was flung onto the bed and the dressing gown ripped effortlessly off her. She tried to cover her nakedness with a sheet but then the breath was knocked out of her as his fist sank into her stomach and then the flat of his hand smacked her cheek with such force that for a moment she felt nothing. She rocked back as a blow lashed her other cheek and then his hands were slashing her breasts and she was rolling over the bed, trying to escape while blows lashed across her shoulders, her buttocks, everywhere with stinging power, and she was held by other hands so that her punishment could be effected without resistance.
Mohammed Arab stood back after a few minutes and motioned to the other two to let her go. She lay before them, slim and voluptuously rounded and fresh-looking. She seemed for the moment to be dazed. There were angry red marks on her white body. He was excited by the beating he'd just administered. The soft yielding of the flesh under his hand, its warmth and resilience, had moved a weight to his loins and his penis was bulging out against his tight trousers.
Francoise lay face down, trembling, not looking round at her tormentors. And then she felt thin, wiry hands on her shoulders, with fingers that dug into her flesh like pincers.
"How many times have you been fucked tonight?" asked the sneering voice which seemed to be gloating as well.
She didn't answer and the fingers tightened until she cried out and said: "I don't remember-five."
"Well now we're all going to fuck you to help put up your average-or maybe the boys would rather do other things with you."
The other two laughed softly, menacingly, and then the hands were forcing her down on the bed, pushing her shoulders onto the counterpane. She began to struggle, fighting and kicking, but she was held so firmly that she couldn't even turn round and a few curses were all the result she got.
Her shoulders were held tight against the counterpane and knees had forced her own knees apart with a rough pressure.
"Kneel up," his voice commanded. She tried to force herself flatly onto the bed. She was crying as much with rage as fear. The hands moved off her shoulders, making them feel free as if they'd been sheathed in iron. One of them grabbed her arm and twisted it up behind her shoulder-blades; the other reached under her loins and hauled them up bodily. The strength used against her was frighteningly great. She felt like an almost lifeless teddy bear in the hands of a hefty child even though she continued to struggle and swing her bottom in an effort to escape.
"A wildcat," she heard one of the henchmen say. They were all around her, looking at her naked body, gloating over their satisfaction which was to come.
The twisting of her arm forced her face down hard against the bedcover and her hips seemed to be lifted high up into the air while she swayed and struggled punily.
She gasped with pain as, suddenly, there was a thick intrusion which felt as if a log was being pushed into her dry, unwanting vagina. She screamed out for them to stop; tears smarted against her cheeks. But the intrusion grew and she felt her thighs swept wide apart, the heavy weight of loins crashing against her buttocks pushing her face hard into the bed with every hot pain which seared her vagina. Her vaginal passage felt on fire. The great penis penetrating it felt like sandpaper. She ached and her back ached from bending. She felt hands, many hands, the other men's hands running over her behind. Someone stuck several thicknesses of finger up her ass, which was still so sore from the sodomy she'd been subjected to earlier.
Little screams of breath broke from her lips. Her passage felt as if its walls were being chafed and pared of their skin. Then she began to lubricate a little and the pain was a little less but the penetration greater and she felt as if her whole belly were being split open, as if someone were levering apart her thighs until her body would split all the way up from her pelvis right through a line between her naked breasts which were being squeezed and kneaded brutally.
Kneeling behind her prostrate body, Mohammed Arab gritted his teeth and fucked in and out with great lunges which began from his toes and quivered up through his strong, wiry thighs to reach a zenith of sensation in his tough, iron-hard prick which burst into her, pushing her flesh in all directions, making a path for entry as if his phallus were a bulldozer tunneling through the earth.
His hands gripped her body, squeezing with sadistic force, hurting her, making her cry out and wriggle helplessly with pain.
His balls itched with desire and his prick tingled. He ran his hands over the tormented flesh which, unwilling but helpless, was at his mercy. He tore the buttocks apart, spreading them obscenely, revealing the little, hard anus which he noticed was red and raw-looking and into which his fingers slipped without too much difficulty. His prick buried itself into her up to the hilt, encountering a certain resistance over the last inch. Her channel was pulverizing tight around his rigidity and its squeezing clasp brought forth oaths and gasps of pleasure from his thin lips.
Francoise, shamed and aching, her face sideways against the bedcover, felt only a great heat and splitting at her loins. She felt super-naked and every part of her seemed to be at that great hole which grew and grew between her legs as if it were some forest pathway being broadened, having its undergrowth swept away by some irresistible tornado.
Her lips opened and closed in torment. Occasionally she tried to flatten her hips or draw her buttocks in to contain the pain of her anus. But then she was aware only of the tightening of her vagina and the extra pain which ensued from his brusque entry.
Suddenly there were fingers at her lips, opening her mouth and then a spongy, stiff substance rubbing against her lips. She opened her eyes and saw, close under them, a prick some eight inches long and thick in proportion. One of the other men was lying alongside her, forcing his penis into her mouth. She resisted from a moment, sickened, but then he held her nose between finger and thumb and, as she gasped for breath, the thick sword of flesh rammed in, crushing through her soft, moist lips, between her even teeth and into the moist saliva of her mouth. She felt it on her tongue, this great blunt, hot thing, tearing her attention in brief spasms from the continuous piercing of her vagina and the blunt solidity which crashed against her cervix and made her jerk forward with pain.
The trouser-covered hips behind the prick began to undulate in towards her and the fat prick to slide in and out of her mouth, never quite withdrawing, always leaving an inch or two beyond her lips in the warm shelter of her mouth.
She saw where it came, broad and searching out from the trouser flies. There were a few black hairs straggling out with it. It grew broader towards the knob and the skin was drawn back in a series of little ridges like narrow olive terraces.
She closed her eyes. Saliva seemed to fill her mouth-all of her mouth that was left after the great rod expanding within it had rammed down towards her tonsils.
Once or twice she coughed and spluttered but then she grew accustomed to the asphyxiating entry and let it move in and out with ever increasing vigor, ramming at a faster pace than its brother which gouged her quim. '
Mohammed Arab felt himself coming. He squeezed her flesh in his hands so that it grew up in great ridges-small, artificial buttocks embossed on her real buttocks. When he released her, the ridges settled back slowly into her flesh, leaving angry red marks, fringed with a white bloodlessness on her skin.
Every time he thrust now, pushing his loins forward, his pelvic area in the avant-garde of the thrust, he felt the imminence of his orgasm grow greater until there was a heavy weight of blood hanging in the knob of his penis.
While he thrust he saw her tender lips clasping the growing, whitening prick of one of his cronies who was writhing his hips as he forced her to suck him.
Francoise, obeying the command of the fingers which forced her mouth to follow, sucked and licked the great tree-like being in her mouth. Her torture had gone on and on. She prayed for it to end and so she sucked to end it quickly.
The glans in her mouth was slimy with her saliva and suddenly the moisture was thicker with a seaweedy taste. She felt his loins crush into her face, tensing in great, trembling movements. His hands gripped her cheeks and then her hair and he seemed to be trying to push his cock down her throat to meet the other coming up in her cunt. She felt at this moment totally debased, as if her body were just a piece of putty-like flesh which these men were using for masturbation, as if she had no rights, no soul, no humanity, as if she were some stuffed dummy exclusively for their pleasure.
The man lying beside her gasped, once, twice, three times and then crushed his hips into her face so that she was suffocated and fought for breath. And as she fought for breath, her mouth was flooded with a great undamming of hot, thick liquid, which choked her and slithered automatically down her throat. At the same time, the organ in her mouth, after its rigid ejaculations, began to lose its size and weight and his loins moved away and she was able to breathe again and she opened her mouth and spat out some of the sperm which still remained around her tongue and on her palate.
She became aware again, exclusively, of the filling of her cunt, the never-ending object which barraged into her belly untiringly and which seemed as broad and deep as her loins. No feeling came to her except the hot chafing where his prick grazed her vaginal wall. But his orgasm, too, was coming. She heard him panting, faster and faster and he forced her thighs so wide with his knees that she was almost flat on the bed with her hips and her pelvis aching with the stretching. His fingers gripped the tops of her thighs with a pressure which didn't relax, now, but became greater and greater as his panting became more and more agitated and deep.
She heard him gasp out some words in Arabic which she didn't understand and then he thrust into her so hard and seemed to go so deep with the long thrust that it actually seemed as if his penis had been transformed into a spear which wounded her and made her moan in pain. She felt his convulsive jerks against her ass and then he too fell back from her and there was suddenly cool air entering her unstoppered hole and she fell forward on the bed, crying bitterly and aching all over as if her body had been cramped in a tiny tomb for hours on end.
While she lay, sobbing, the men began to recover.
From their joking remarks it was apparent that the third member, who'd held only a watching brief on the whole proceeding, preferred young men. She was too curvaceous for him even to think of buggering her and pretending her name was Frangoise.
But now he was urged by the others to complete what they referred to as her punishment.
Frangoise lay on the bed, sobbing, aware only partially of what was going on between them, prostrate, not trying to move or protect herself from further assault.
Above her the third member of the trio began to remove his belt. His teeth were drawn back from his teeth in a vicious grin. It was difficult to say which of them looked more vicious than the others.
The belt was of thin, shiny leather. He held it at the buckle end and motioned to the others to hold the girl. Mohammed Arab sat on her feet and the other held her shoulders. Both of them kept well back from her body, leaving it free.
The man with the belt looked down on her pummeled body, which still bore faint, dying traces of her previous mishandling. This time he'd leave more permanent traces. His chest tingled with excitement. The thought of watching his belt bite into that woman-flesh, woman-flesh that he disliked so intensely, filled him with sadistic delight.
He raised the belt and lashed it down across her buttocks. She screamed exhaustedly and her body jackknifed but was firmly held by the others. The belt rose and descended again in the same thin line and then it flashed up and down, up and down until her back from thighs to shoulders was a grill of weals and her body was squirming as if in death throes.
Finally he lowered his arm and began to buckle the belt around his waist once again. Mohammed Arab looked at her body. She didn't look too attractive now. He grinned meanly, showing his teeth.
"Let's go now," he said to the others.
On the way out. he said to the almost still body on the bed:
"Don't be a naughty girl and nothing serious will happen to you."