Chapter 9
The sun was setting, a huge ball of flame over the smooth green of Den Haag, when Charles Edward Tarrington III edged out of the protection of the police barricade and walked slowly, steadily across the no-man's land between the police infested line to the iron rails of the railroad tracks toward the train car that resembled more a child's toy than a hide out. He did as Jorgerson instructed, holding his hands high. All eyes were on him, both within the train and behind him.
Reason told Charles he might well be shot to death, out there in the open, the perfect target for the guns of a trigger happy, exhausted policeman who'd heard the order wrong. But he stoked his courage and optimism with the heartening thought that whatever happened once he set foot inside that train car, it would happen out of his defense of his family name and for his career. His conscience would be a clean slate. Analysis told him, too, that they would not harm him . . . yet. After Janice had been released, it would be a different story. Certainly, reasoned Charles, they wouldn't harm a hostage, or what good would it do? But human behavior was irrational, he thought, and he wondered how many ways there were to die. At least he would save Janice.
He walked on, mechanically placing one foot in front of the other, the short distance seeming to space for miles; the few minutes it took to walk across the three sets of railroad tracks seemed to take light years. Halfway across, he took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure and then walked on once more, slowly, steadily. Janice would be waiting for him, just inside the door, he remembered. As he saw the chute open and the metal steps emerge from the train car, he expected to see her standing there, ready to leave. He hoped he would at least have a few minutes to talk to her, to find out what had happened that by some ridiculous fluke, she'd ended up in the company of this savage drug smugglers. Janice, as the agreement was made, would leave at their release the moment he walked on that train. Charles sighed, wondering when and if ever the smugglers would release him, too . . . or would his dear mother hear about this, too, from the lips of Walter Cronkite?
He had reached the opened steps now, and turned to take a last glance in back of him before he entered the train.
Where was Janice? She was to pass him, leaving freely, at this very moment. And then someone grabbed him by the arm and yanked him inside the car, closing the chute with a violent metallic thud that was to echo in his ears for much of that evening.
He had been tricked! Janice was not released.
Hank had been sitting at the train window with his comrades scattered around him, while he reported Charles' progress across the railroad yard. "He's half-way here! Hands up, by God! Oops, he's looking back. Hey, come on you sweet sonofabitch, keep those Pucci shoes walking. Yeah, man . . . "
He'd expected a muscle bound Mr. America, after the threats Janice had hurled at him regarding her fiancé's strengths, but now he knew all that strength was in his head, not in the flimsy arms that he held over his head. . . and God knows not between those whimpish legs.
The bearded smuggler guffawed, thinking of young Janice Quincy's luscious body, her wild, bottled-up passion being wasted on a weakling like this man stepping towards him. "He's almost here, the sucker . . . "
Theo paled. "What's he gonna say when he finds out you been pumpin' it to his ol' lady?" Visions of a judge pounding his gavel on a mahogany desk, sentencing him to years in prison for a crime he didn't commit, pounded in his temples. "I ain't getting stuck with that rap, Hank. I didn't touch the girl." Theo's finely chiseled cheekbones moved under his skin as he worked his jaws back and forth on tightly clenched teeth.
But Theo's monologue was cut short as Hank continued his running account of Charles' approach. "He's cuming right on. My God, he's two steps away. Gunnar, get ready to grab that sonofabitch!"
The heavy slam of the metal door reverberated throughout the car and Gunnar let out a loud, "Yup! He's ours!"
Charles was shaking with fury when he was led, arms pinned behind his back, into the main body of the train car to face Hank who quickly rose from his position to greet their hostage.
It was Charles who spoke first. "You're nothing but a bunch of animals, worse than criminals. If you were in America, I swear to God I'd have the bunch of you hanging from flagpoles . . . " Charles paused, searching for more words. Gunnar pushed him against the wall, and Charles slumped down against it, landing on his buttocks, head fallen to the side, like some limp rag doll.
Hank smiled cockily. "Thanks for the compliment, you sonofabitch!" he bellowed while Charles glowered at him through a paling expression. Hank towered above the slumped over, defeated looking hulk of male flesh, his thick tongue twirling around inside his mouth, making his cheek pooch out above the hairy line of his beard. He seemed to be thinking, cogitating, as he stood with legs spread wide, hands on his hips. "You know, I think you're gonna be worth something to us, friend. You're gonna be the one who gets us out of Amsterdam. You know what you're gonna do.. . ? " He knelt down on his haunches next to Charles' crumpled body. "You're gonna escort us out of Holland to Sweden, you imagine-assed sonofabitch."
Theo stepped forward, yanking at Hank's elbow, spinning him around, a gesture which, judging from Hank's narrowing eyes, he didn't take kindly to. "Come on, Hank, let's give up. There's no way in hell this man is gonna give up without a fight. . . not after the way you been fuckin' his old lady."
Janice . . . Fuckin' his old lady? The words registered in Charles addled brain, and a snarl curled his lip. "Janice!" he called out, as if remembering for the first time the purpose of his mission. "Where is Janice? I swear to God, if you've touched one single hair on her head.. . . " Charles whipped off his glasses and braced himself against the train wall ready to spring at his tormentor.
"You stupid bastard!" charged Hank, his heavy jaw set, his ball-sized fists clenching, unclenching like a machine while he charged Theo. "You don't have a brain in your head!"
Hank was cut off by a curse from Charles. "You bastard!" he bellowed.
Hank shook a warning finger at the American. "If you want us to be nice, friend, you'd better change your attitude real fast. Like it or not, we're walkin' you through that line-up of cops out there, straight on through to one of those nice clean cars with lots of gas, and guess who's driving us to Denmark?" he smirked. "Oh, you can go home after we get to Frederikshavn 'cause we've got a friend there with a boat, and he's gonna putt us to Goteburg."
For the first time, Lisa heard this new plan, and she stepped forward desperately wanting to ease the tension between she and Hank, now that freedom seemed less of an impossibility. And it was Hank, too, who had the connections-all the more reason why she should make amends. "Janice . . . what do we do with Janice?"
"That's entirely up to Charles here," was Hank's curt reply.
Charles hung his head, shook it slightly, and rubbed his tender jaw, wondering what he'd done to deserve such cruel fate as to end up in the mercy of these burly smugglers, these less than human scums of society. Through their own lack of foresight and intelligence they'd dragged themselves down to this filthy level, and now they were taking him along with them . . . demanding that he, Charles Edward Tarrington III, submit to accomplicing them in an escape plan. Were they crazy? He'd never do that! Never! What would that do to his career? Oh, how some columnist or Democrat would love to get ahold of that story, how truly un-American that would make him look. Hostage or not, it was still aiding and abetting, a nebulous position which could easily be misconstrued by someone wishing to degrade his name.
"You think I'm gonna help you, you're crazy! People like you belong behind bars." Charles leaped to his feet and took one step toward Hank. Immediately Theo and Gunnar pounced on him and wrestled him back to the floor.
"Don't play Superman," mocked Hank. "You think you can take care of yourself . . . fine, but what about your lady friend in there? What kind of lily-livered sonofabitch is she gonna think you are for letting us cut up that pretty little face of hers because lover boy doesn't wanna go for a little drive?"
This time Charles struggled free of his captors, knocked over a gun causing it to fire, blowing a hole in the side of the train car, and threatened Hank with his clenched fists. Hank warded off the blow, then with the help of the others, seized Charles' wrists, twisting them painfully. "Let's not try that again, huh?"
Charles was forced back onto the hard floor of the car. He tried to think of something else, concentrating on the barrel of the gun poised inches from his head from where Gunnar stood, his German genes making his finger itch on the trigger. He stared at the hole . . . hole-oh, my God! he thought-holes! Like Janice's lovely little puckered anus would look, with its rubbery, brown-tinged ring-he'd never let himself think of that consciously-then thought of the beautiful pink hair-lined slit of her cunt that would open to him. He tried to push the idea from his mind as he'd always done before and knew now that he couldn't and sat trembling, covered with cold sweat as Hank's words rolled on and on.
"We're gonna have to do something with her, you know. I hate to think we'd have to kill that pretty little thing, but we might have to." He looked to his comrades, all of whom nodded solemnly, all but Theo that is who looked away, turning his head. "Of course, there are ways to make you change your mind. Certainly with a pretty little thing like Janice you've had occasion to take a peek at those pretty breasts of hers, all nice and firm and soft in your hands . . . or that hot little cunt of hers, nice and silky. Oh, did you know, Charles, she's got just the tiniest little birthmark on her right inner thigh."
"You bastard! You sonofabitchin' bastard!" screamed Charles, drooling from the mouth with fury.
"You like to see it? There's lots about Janice you don't know, sir. Come on . . . " he gestured, his voice overly friendly and deceptive. Hank ran his tongue lasciviously around his lips, and stared mockingly at Charles. Then, with a loud sigh, as if he dreaded the job that lay ahead, he said, "Let's go see her."
The rest, pushing Charles along with them, followed. Hank opened the door to the stuffy room where Janice was sitting on the bed there, smoking another of the thin, brown cigarettes, while Lisa, who'd gone ahead of the rest, sat on the commode across from her. Janice looked up at Hank and smiled, as she inhaled deeply on the marijuana. It made everything seem so beautiful, she thought, so perfect. Nothing mattered except the warm, wonderful sensation of the moment.
She looked up with a start of pleasure when Hank entered the room, got up off the bed and went over to greet him. Hank was a wonderful young man, she thought, Lisa was a nice friend, everything was nice, and she wouldn't for a moment change anything. "Hi," she said, grinning lopsidedly, her eyes squinting slightly to focus.
"Hi," Hank grunted, waving his hand.
Janice squinted dreamily at the others. Charles was there, too, she saw. Everything was wonderful! Hank-and in her drugged state, the memory of Hank's hands on her naked body sent her soaring. Everybody was there! And when Hank moved forward pulling her brutally to him, she responded with an unearthly thrill. Her entire body tingled with anticipation of the pleasure to come when Hank fucked her again as she knew he was going to do.. . yes, that was the word-fucked her-just the way he had before, her mouth . . . her vagina . . . everywhere.
Without a word of protest, she let Hank ease his hands under the loose cloth of her work shirt she wore, slipping it down, unbuttoning it in the front so that Janice sat there with her lovely rounded white breasts thrust out like twin moons, hanging suspended in the open air for all to see. There was a burst of applause from the group standing in the doorway, mingled with a groan of fury and agony from Charles, and then Hank's hand slid down across the tender, pointed breasts to Janice's slim waist, moving back and forth gently caressing the pale skin. Then he slid his hands under the ridiculously out-sized jockey shorts she wore, that grotesque, mannish garment that belonged to a man, and not around the undeniably feminine body of
Janice Quincy.
Slowly, patiently, he traced the deliciously rounded orbs of her buttocks under the panties, sending tiny, electric thrills of pleasure coursing through Janice's body. Then he yanked her to her feet, and let one hand stroke her lightly, casually, and then the fingers found the smooth white cleft between her buttocks, traced the line of it, down, down, thrust forward between her legs, spreading them wide, found the petal-pink slit of her cuntal lips, and caressed them, too, before he removed his digits.
Once again, Hank traced the thin, fuzz-lined furrow of Janice's buttocks, moved between the rounded cheeks of her ass. This time, though, he paused at the tiny puckered opening of her anus and smilingly wormed one fingertip in while Janice grunted softly in unexpected discomfort, then withdrew it quickly, with a dry little sucking sound. Charles, watching a few feet away, slumped in the corner next to the commode, let out a shriek that sounded like that of a wounded moose, and then made a final, desperate attempt to break away, to rescue Janice. A blow to the side of his face knocked him back reeling against the wall, a second blow set him sprawling to the floor. He opened a reddened eye to see Gunnar standing over him, sweat pouring down his pock-marked face. "Come on, Theo, help me stand him up so our friend can get a better view," he said contemptuously as Theo helped haul Charles to his feet, standing him against the wall.
Now Hank ripped at the underwear Janice wore, tearing the cotton away from the thick elastic band at the top, making them tumble to the floor, tangling around her ankles. Hank offered Janice his hand, in some parody of gentility, and she took it, stepping from her clothes with the grace of her upbringing.
Across the room, Gunnar sucked in his breath at the sight of Janice's naked body. My God, she was gorgeous. He'd never seen a woman with such delicacy, such sheer beauty. Her lovely arms might have been smoothed by the hands of a craftsman. . . from marble or alabaster. Her legs were long, her thighs rich and full and heavy. Gunnar whistled in amazement. So this is what Hank was doing back here while he, Gunnar, stood watch at the window. He'd have his turn soon enough, and so would Theo if this sonofabitch didn't break.
He watched, spellbound, as Hank placed his hands on the young girl's ripe, full breasts, pressing his thumbs and forefingers against the tiny little buds of her nipples, rolling them into a tight, taut erection. He felt his prick jerk inside his pants as he anticipated the pleasure in store for him in a short time.
Now Hank's hands roved down Janice's supple body, caressing the firm flesh of her gently swelling belly, moving to explore the mass of thickly curling pubic hair between her legs. Janice stood transfixed in her drugged haze, a rising tide of passion surging through her at the delicious touch of the young man's fingers, the palm of his hand. Tingling with excitement, she stepped backwards and, mouth hanging open expectantly, seated herself on the edge of the bed. In an instant, Hank was on his knees beside her, stroking her thighs again, running his hands down the outside of them, over them, spreading them apart in a slow, methodical movement, running his hands up and down the tender flesh of her inner thighs.
Janice whimpered in ecstasy, and then drew her legs together in shocked surprise as the air blew across her long, narrow vaginal slit. Again Hank spread her thighs wide, and now his hand slipped closer to her pinkly glistening pussy, gently parting the sensitive fleece-lined lips while Janice closed her eyes, head hanging backward, gasping with pleasure. She felt the surging deisre flowing through her whole body, but converging there a wild, throbbing sensation that was beyond her control, a desire that turned her narrow cuntal passage into a hot seeping tunnel of moisture. She groaned softly and lifted her feet up with heels far apart on the edge of the bed and presented the whole of her naked pussy to his lewdly gaping eyes.
Now Hank's finger wormed tenderly into the wetness of it, and Janice's entire being tingled. He probed deeper, fingering the fleshy folds, withdrew to find the hard, taut bud of her clitoris. He stroked that, too, gently, slowly, until Janice responded with a sudden little spasm of pure delight and sensuous grinding of her buttocks that was visible to all the onlookers.
She remembered them in some dim way, their faces merging with the bright colors and sweet sounds which were the setting for the marvelous sensations she felt, and turned her head to see Charles.
She loved him so much, she knew. But he seemed angry. Now why should he be angry? Janice searched her dazed mind for an answer and at last found one. The Tarringtons and the Quincys didn't believe in sex, she remembered. They thought it was nasty. Necessary, sometimes, but nasty.
But they couldn't have known what it was like, could they? They couldn't have known it was so wonderful. Janice could understand, quite rationally, that they thought that what she was doing was wrong. Looking at it from their point of view, she almost agreed with them. But on the other hand, from her point of view, it was so wonderful. And how could anything so nice be wrong? Janice brushed the question aside, lying back now, as Hank's finger eased gently into her hotly steaming little cunt, probing deeper and deeper into her moistly welcoming cunt. She moaned and tossed beneath him, then with a sudden movement threw her arms up and around his neck, as she began to rotate her hips against his searching finger.
She caught sight of Charles' face again, bright red now with fury, with hatred, with disgust. I'll make it up to him, she promised herself. I'll explain very rationally to him and Charles will understand, dear understanding, rational Charles. And we'll do this together and Charles will know how nice it is and he won't be mad at me any longer, and he'll feel just the way I do . . . she thought through the dim haze of her drugged, aroused passion.
She held Hank closer to her, but there was something wrong.. . something terribly wrong. It didn't feel right. At first she didn't know what it was, and then it dawned on her that Hank's body, which should have felt smooth and warm and pungent, for some reason was rough. She stroked him again. He was rough and dry and uncomfortable. She focused her eyes on him, puzzled, and then it dawned on her that Hank was fully clothed, that he was wearing the scratchy Levi's he'd been wearing for so long, and the shirt, too, the one he'd put on after he'd given her his.
He shouldn't be wearing those, thought Janice, frowning at how it spoiled the fun. She began to rip the buttons off his shirt, but when her limp fingers slid around them, she reached for the zipper of his pants. That was easier, she found. She pulled and something snapped, and then she pulled again, her fingers on the metal tab, and there was the whining sound of a zipper being slid down. Then Janice put her hand inside, maneuvering under Hank's jockey shorts to find the hidden, half-hard length of his penis.
Carefully, as if it were sacred . . . Janice clasped her fingers around the man's blood-swollen rod, massaged it gently, moving the foreskin back and forth, back and forth, until Hank's prick grew strong and wiry, springing to life. And then she drew it out, holding it in her hand. She gazed at it, admiring its gigantic size, its now rock-hard rigidity, staring unblinking, unwinking at the small hole that was like an eye, at the very tip of his penis, noticing with a smile of pleasure that the drops of lubricating fluid that gathered there, oozed from it slowly.
"Ohhhhh!" she moaned, falling back on the bed, her legs spread wide, her heels splayed out over the sides of it. "Ohhhhh, Hank!"
With a quick twist of his wrist, he pulled his shirt off, unbuckled his belt, letting his pants slip down. He'd been kneeling, but now he stood, leaning over Janice lying limp and waiting on the hard mattress. "What do you want me to do, baby," he asked coldly.
"Ohhhh," moaned the captive. "Ohhhh . . . you know."
"No, I don't."
"Yes, you do.. . you did it before!" she winked up at him.
"Tell me, sweetheart," ordered Hank.
"I want you to fuck me," admitted Janice, all inhibitions wiped away by the exhilarating feel of the marijuana. "I want you to fuck me, Hank."
Hank shot a quick, evil glance at Charles, who watched the scene as a child would a horror movie . . . in complete shock and utter horror. "Say it again, Janice," he ordered her, twisting the emotional knife one more time. "Say it loud so your friend here can hear it!"
Charles wanted to hear her say it, Janice thought. But of course she would for him. She would do anything to make Charles happy. They were engaged to be married, and someday they would be married, and they would do this sort of thing then, too, and she would make Charles so happy when that time came. But now she would make him happy by saying it again. "Fuck me Hank," she said in a low, passion-thickened voice. "Fuck me like you did before."
She heard a scream that sounded as if it came from Charles, but she couldn't understand why he would scream when she was doing what he wanted her to, and then the scream died away and she forgot about it as Hank, kneeling eagerly between her open thighs, used the thick, bulbous head of his cock to part the soft, silken strands of her pubic hair, sweeping them away from the pale pink lips of her pussy, leaving the exciting little mouth up between her legs completely open to him. And now he forced the lustfully throbbing head into her moist, pulsing pussy, thrusting inch by inch into the softly yielding walls of her welcoming cunt. He settled his body upon Janice, grinding his hips between her open thighs, filling her to bursting, then withdrew for a moment, penetrated her again, deeper this time until the head beat rhythmically against her cervix.
"Ohhhhh, God, darling, you fuck me good!" she moaned and mouth open, moved her head from side to side.
He rotated his hips, and Janice moved against them, rotating hers in turn, while beads of perspiration formed on her upper lip. Hank reached down around her hips and cupped her naked buttocks to pull them closer to his own surging loins, and Janice was filled with an insane pleasure, a bliss so intense she found it almost unbearable. Nothing was real now, nothing existed except Hank's huge, impaling cock fucking in and out setting her quivering, quaking body on fire with pure lust.
"Oh ohohohohoh God!" she grunted softly as though speaking to herself beneath him.
His strokes quickened now, as Janice's cuntal lips grasped and sucked at his charging cock hungrily, milking it. His soft, hairless, sperm-filled balls slapped flatly against the naked cheeks of her upturned ass, and Janice shrieked in wild abandon as she gave herself up to the lewd, obscene act she was performing before the others, oblivious of all but the overwhelming ecstasy it brought her. She writhed beneath Hank's tough, muscularly hairy bod, her legs jerking back spasmodically to wrap themselves around his torso, ankles locking behind his back, while he ground his fleshy, lust-hardened cock ever deeper into her greedily devouring young belly. And then, before Charles' horrified eyes, Janice began to lurch from side to side, her face contorted, mouth open wide, in the mindless grip of her great passion. She gasped, panting hard, her breasts heaving, and her mewls of pleasure grew to a frenzied cry. "Ohhhhhh! Ohhhhhhhh!" she half-wailed, half-sang.
Hank felt the warm, sticky fluid of Janice's beginning orgasm as it rose and spilled into her warm, tight pussy, oozed around his plunging cock, bathing it hotly in its slippery wetness. Oh, my God, he thought.
"Oh God . . . Ohhhh! God! I'm cummming!" wailed Janice, and the satiated Hank thought, Christ, me, too. Then he felt the boiling sperm in his inflated balls bubble up and spurt forward, mingling with Janice's own hot juices, felt it spray the inside of her pussy, felt the incredible tensions of the past few minutes dissolve in a wildly exploding moment of joy.
He fell back, exhausted, beside Janice on the bed and lay there next to her for a few moments, eyes closed, savoring the exquisite delight of the moment. Then he heard his name called, and recognized Gunnar's voice. "Okay, Hank. It's my turn now."
Dizzily, he rose, found his pants and shirt, pulled them on, moving away from Janice who lay back on the bed in a look of utter depravity. He caught a glimpse of Charles' face, and at first he didn't recognize him. The man was like a mad tiger, snarling at the leash, ready to kill. Hank gave him a wink and moved across the small room to sink against the wall, too tired now to watch the fun and games Janice was going to indulge in with Gunnar.
She was lying on the bed when Gunnar approached, and she made no objection when he knelt between her legs at the foot of the small bed and gazed down hungrily at the sperm-glistening lips of her open cunt. Then, moments later when he ordered, "Put your legs up over my shoulders!" she did, and she felt a new thrill surge through her as he bent his head over her pulsing, still-moist pussy, and placed his hands on her cuntal lips. Carefully, in her German precision, he opened them, exposing the pink flesh to his lust-filled eyes. As his hot breath blew across Janice's cunt, still dripping from
Hank's sperm moments before, she writhed in delight, then curled her legs and wriggled her toes with the sudden, exquisite sensation. Gunnar bent his head still nearer, and then his tongue lashed out, finding the tiny, narrow slit, and began to tease back and forth inside it.
It was so good, Janice thought again. How could this be bad, when it was so good? The idea puzzled her and so she dismissed it from her mind and lay back, opening her thighs wider to his face and enjoying what was happening to her. Gunnar slaved over her, his tongue and mouth worming into the warmly quivering little crevice between her thighs. It followed the narrow slit from one end to the other, savoring every delicious taste as it advanced. Then Gunnar stopped and began slowly to lick the entire pubic curl-fringed length once more. But he paused when he reached the tiny bud of Janice's clitoris, and devoted his entire attention to rousing it into a taut erection.
Janice thrashed and bucked under this lewdly exciting assault on her sensitive little cuntal mound, letting out sharp little screams of pleasure from time to time, that split the silent air like a knife. Gunnar's tongue flicked in and out between her legs, faster and faster now, making a wet sucking noise echo through the room as the young nakedly writhing woman's heart pounded like a hammer and her breath caught in her chest, then spurted out.
Suddenly, the delicious sucking of her warm, moist pussy stopped, and Janice uttered a tortured cry of mixed dismay and disappointment. "Don't stop! OH, God don't stop! Go on, lick it. Lick it!"
Oh, God, what happened? What was happening? Why had Gunnar left her lying on the bed, her legs still spread wide, her hungrily churning cunt exposed and waiting for the wonderful licking and sucking of his rough tongue. Janice turned, strained to see. Through the fog of drugs that clouded her mind, she somehow understood that everyone was looking at Charles, over against the wall where Theo guarded him. Something had happened to him, she thought. He was white as a ghost, and now he'd slumped down against the wall collapsing like a deflated balloon.
Hank got up from where he sat against the wall to poke a foot into Charles' inert body, Charles didn't budge. Now he leaned over him, his head bent down, listening to his heartbeat. "He's okay," said Hank straightening. He grabbed Charles by his collar and pulled him to his feet, giving him a brisk slap across the mouth that seemed to wake him up again. "You changed your mind yet?" he sneered.
Charles' head fell forward, onto his chest, and Hank jerked it up. "You change your mind yet?"
Charles mumbled something Janice couldn't catch, and then Hank slapped him again. This time
Charles lifted his head, threw his shoulders back, and gathered all his strength as he confronted Hank, looking every inch as aristocratic as his name implied, dirty and disheveled though he was. "No," he said clearly. And with a supreme effort, he answered coolly, fixing Hank with his stare. "I will never aid and abet you to escape the punishment you deserve."
Hank shrugged. "I guess we'll have to try harder."
Charles put his arm over his eyes, as if he could shut out forever what he had seen, and what he would yet see. Hank looked at him with contempt, then called Gunnar.
"Let her have it.. . where it hurts!" he ordered.
Gunnar looked at Hank, scratching his head, smiling. "Where it hurts, you say?" he asked and shot an evil glance at Charles, who covered his mouth to keep from screaming again.
"Fuck her in the ass!"
Gunnar, with a quick, deft movement, turned the blonde debutante over on her stomach on the bed.
At first Janice made no effort to resist. Everything had seemed so beautiful, so wonderful, she thought. Not Charles, of course. But then Charles never had been much fun at parties. And there was something wrong with him, he didn't look well. Perhaps he'd been working too hard again. Charles always worked too hard and didn't play enough . . . even his mother said so. She let her mind wander, just as she felt her legs being spread wide, as she felt Gunnar's tongue search out the tight, tiny hole of her puckered, brown-ringed anus. And then she understood what Hank had said, when was it? So long ago. It seemed she'd been born in this train, she'd been there so long.
"Fuck her in the ass!" That was what Hank had said.
And up her ass meant-sodomy! She was to be lewdly sodomized, right here in front of everybody, in front of Charles. Janice's drug befuddled mind whirled again, and even though the hazy bits and pieces of things she had heard came back to her. They couldn't do that to her. It wasn't legal. She'd seen that in one of Charles' law books, that she'd taken down from a top shelf where he'd thought she wouldn't find it. And now these people were going to do it to her, right in front of Charles, and Janice knew she could never let that happen. Never. She believed in the law, too, like dear Charles believed in it, and she had to fight against such awful things because Charles expected her to. And then she felt Gunnar kissing the lovely round orbs of her buttocks, nipping at them, flicking his tongue against them. Furiously, she kicked her legs, thrashing out to rid herself of this unwanted intrusion. But the strong German caught her ankles and pinned them to the bed, like a wrestler pinning his opponent on a mat. "Spread your legs," he ordered in a voice of steel.
Janice did as she was told, opening them until she was afraid she would split in two. "Like that?" she gasped.
"Not like that!" Gunnar said, giving her a swift slap on her firmly rounded young buttocks, leaving a red, angry print of his palm on them. Janice winced in pain and then screamed aloud as Gunnar took her by the thighs and forced her legs farther and farther apart. Janice screamed in agony, then gasped again as Gunnar's finger teased at it momentarily, then wormed its way deep into the little puckered orifice of her anus. In and out it ground, in and out, and Janice felt a terrible, terrible, searing pain that moments later, when her rectal walls had adjusted, turned to a dull, but strangely soothing pleasure, bringing an aching longing in her, a weird masochistic desire she knew in her heart to be wicked and evil. But she knew she could never resist, not when she felt such excitement and joy and sheer ecstasy in the act.
She groaned and wiggled her hips salaciously back up to trap more of it as Gunnar's fingers prodded and probed inside her tightly clenched little anus, widening it, expanding it, bringing a pleasurable throb to it that made her gasp for breath. Then a second finger joined the first, forced in with a terrible thrust. Gunnar began to work the two fingers back and forth in the narrow hole, preparing it for the entrance of his already lust-swollen prick. He was almost ready, Janice knew, he was breathing hard, panting over her prone body, and his fingers thrust in and out as if he no longer had control of them, skewering Janice on the hard digits. And now Gunnar, like Hank, was demanding that Janice beg him, to perform this perverted outrageous act. "Want it?" he asked coldly, cruelly, as if she were no more than an animal to be debased for his pleasure. Janice hesitated, frightened by the sadistic tone of his voice. Gunnar, impatient, added another swift slap, and Janice cried in agony, "Ohhh! Yes!"
"Yes, what? Tell me! Tell me what you want me to do to you," he commanded savagely.
"I.. . I. . . " But Janice could not bring herself to speak the vile words. "I can't," she wailed.
"Like Hell you can't," said Gunnar, giving her another slap. "Maybe you'd rather watch us when we cut off your boy friend's balls, or maybe you'd like to see his cock slit up the middle."
"No, you couldn't!" screeched Janice.
"Oh, but we would, if we have to." Another slap. "Now beg!"
"Please . . . " she whimpered, trying to hold back her tears. "Please fuck me in the ass. Please."
"Why?" Gunnar prodded, tormenting her still further.
"Because that's what I like," Janice said pitifully.
Gunnar twisted around, leering obscenely, while Hank shrieked triumphantly. "Hear that, Charles! That's what your precious fiancee likes!" He poked Charles, who tried to cover his face with his hands, and now groaned with sheer horror. "Let that be a lesson to you," Hank went on. "If the two of you ever get out of here, and if you ever do get in the sack together . . . " he taunted. "Think you can get a hard-on, Charles, or is that too low-class for you?" he grinned evilly at Charles, poking him again. "Well, if you ever can, remember, that's what the little lady likes . . . gettin' fucked in the ass."
His attention turned once more to Janice, lying on the bed while Gunnar pulled her naked young buttocks up to a kneeling position and mounted her as if he were a dog, and now he took his thick, swollen shaft and wrapped Janice's tiny fingers around it. "Put it in," he ordered, guiding Janice's hand down toward the hairless, rubbery little circle of her rectum. She, too terrified to resist, and with an overwhelming desire to comply at the same time, placed the tip of the stiff, blunt cock head against the tiny opening of her backside. With a quick, brutal thrust that this time brought a scream of pain from her, Gunnar popped the blood-filled head just up inside the small, tightly cringing orifice, then slowly pressed forward and forced the elastically yielding walls further and further apart until he was sunk deep up in the tightness of her bowels.
He began to grind it back and forth, and the pain Janice had felt as he entered her suddenly blended with the intense humiliation she felt and slowly, but surely, turned to an oddly rising sexual stimulation. She moved experimentally back against him, arching her body, thrusting her buttocks up and outward, rotating them in tiny teasing circles, meeting Gunnar's forward movements. Oh, God, she thought again, as a helpless ecstatic moan rose deep in her throat, this was horrible, horrible . . . but at the same time, wickedly beautiful to be used and fucked in the ass like a common whore. There was agony and there was hell, but it all whirled together in one great sensual moment of bliss, and Janice thought, in spite of her initial revulsion, that the last few hours had been just that. . . wonderful and horrible. She had lived through the most sensually exciting moments of her life while poor Charles had experienced the worst.
Someday, she thought, she would make it up to him, explain it to him, and she would let him do just this to her back in her rectum and would make him as happy as he'd been before. Now he was miserable, but there wasn't anything she could do about that.
The man's sperm-bloated balls smacked hard down against the slavishly kneeling Janice's cunt as his thick cock sank deep up inside her rectal passage, pushing almost to her pelvis. He was ready to cum, holding back for just a moment to enjoy even more the climax in store for him. He withdrew, pulling his penis out almost to the tip, then with a loud grunt, he rammed it deep up into her bowels again, as she moaned aloud with the joy she felt.
Then Gunnar began to jerk in a wild spasm of intense pleasure as the white hot sperm spurted the length of his thrusting, pulsing rod, to gush into a torrent into Janice's now openly accepting rectum. The now half insane young woman half-moaned, half-screamed as the boiling white liquid surged hotly up through her waiting bowels. She thought, Oh, my God, I'm cumming again. And then, mouth open wide, grunting heavily, she jerked her body backwards, bucking furiously to meet his rhythmically fucking movements and a great gush of pleasure filled her, filled her just as the man's thickly boiling sperm was doing to her at the same time. Oh God, all her joy seemed to overflow out of the tips of her lewdly jiggling breasts as Gunnar's sperm overflowed up inside her body and splashed back out again around his hard driving penis to run down the crevice of her wide-split buttocks to the sensitive open lips of her moistly throbbing pussy below.
She felt the man's final withdrawal as he pulled his now limp penis from her rectum with a slight wet sucking noise that sounded as though a cork were being pulled, and then the two collapsed, completely exhausted. Gunnar panted for breath as he lay by her side-Janice covered with sweat, but weak and happy.
Janice would have liked to fall asleep-just to close her eyes and sink into sweet oblivious slumber-but as she dozed off, a blood-curdling scream brought her back to reality. She raised her head wearily, and saw that it was Charles who had screamed, and now he had slumped forward again, all strength gone, a shadow of a strong and proud man. Again Janice wondered what had happened to Charles to make him behave so strangely. But she was too tired, too confused to think about it. She would sleep awhile, she told herself and, when she awoke, perhaps then she could talk some sense into Charles.