Chapter 10
Like a pathetically broken toy, Charles lay slumped to the floor again. Hank looked at him with disgust in his dark eyes, then chortled gleefully and called Lisa to his side. "We got any smelling salts?"
Lisa hurried off to look, then came back with a bottle to revive their male hostage. As he opened his eyes, blinking with effort, Charles asked, "Wh-where am I?"
"Back at the show, remember? Our star tonight is one hot little pussy by the name of Janice.
Remember her?" he chided, passing the smelling salts beneath the aristocratic nose of Charles Edward Tarrington III. "Come on, man, don't get sick on us. We've got a long ways to go before you're finished."
Charles shook his head, wondering what had happened to him and why. How had they forced Janice to put on this obscene exhibition for him? He had feared all along that Janice had some spark of the lascivious in her veins, and this proved it. More than proved it. What he had witnessed was beyond the wildest imagination of any horror writer.
He felt his knees buckling under him and closed his eyes. If only he could shrivel up, melt away, and be gone. God, why didn't they just put a bullet through his brain . . . kill him, and Janice too? That would have been a far more noble means of degradation than this. Anything but this! He nodded, blinked, then shook his head. Hank was shaking him by the shoulder, asking him a question again. "Now will you drive for us, sir, or would you like to see more?"
Charles' head spun. No, he couldn't give in, especially not now, or he would be conceding to their demands through his own weakness. Charles clung to his last shred of family honor when he shook his head. "No."
Hank stood up, working his huge fists as if he had a rubber ball in his hand. "Okay," he said to Theo and Gunnar. "He wants to see more. If we're gonna have to spend the rest of our lives behind bars, we might as well have a good time gettin' there," he muttered defeatedly, getting in line first, unzipping his fly as he took one giant step.
He bent over Janice and whispered, "Come on, girl, show 'em your stuff," and took her hand to guide it to the jerking length of his cock still hidden in his soft, cotton undershorts. "Take it out," he demanded, and Janice drew out his cock, feeling it stiffen in her hand. Blue eyes closed dreamily, she began to manipulate the foreskin, easing it back over Hank's now swollen prick, pulling it forward again. Then she ran her fingernail along the rigid flesh, along the vein that stood out beneath, her fingernails scratching gently over its surface to send shocks of joy through Hank's tense, expectant body. His spasms set off her own, and Janice rocked back and forth, massaging Hank's erect penis, thrills of rapture coursing through her quaking body at his pleasure as she responded to his every motion. Oh, she thought as she had before, I'm making him happy. I'm so happy, too. Everybody's having a good time at this party, except for poor Charles.
That made her want to cry; she loved Charles, but Charles never wanted to have a good time . . . always had to remain the rational intellectual. She continued to stroke Hank's penis with one hand, while she wiped her eyes with the other. Someday, though, she'd teach him the true meaning of happiness and how to just let yourself go and do what you want to do, rather than what people expect you to do. Maybe that small miracle would happen when she and Charles were married. Someday, she solemnly vowed, she would make him as happy as she was making Hank right now.
And Gunnar, too, she thought, looking up to see him standing near her. Without waiting to be asked, she reached out and herself unzipped his fly, drawing his thick cock out just as she had drawn out Hank's. With little mewls of pleasure, she caressed it, too, into a hard, erect mass of stout flesh.
She struggled to sit up, but Gunnar pushed her back on the pillow, then knelt over her, legs straddling her shoulders. "Take this in your mouth," he ordered, as she continued to stroke his rigidly pulsating hardness. "Come on, baby, suck it!"
Without a murmur, Janice opened her lips to receive the tip of his stiff, swollen cock, closing her mouth around it, clasping it, sucking it in, her cheeks hollowing as she worked. She ran her tongue around the throbbing head, felt the tiny opening there, licked at it gently at first, then more roughly as tiny droplets of a thick, pungent tasting fluid oozed from it. Janice ran her tongue over them, savoring their acrid taste before she swallowed them. Next, she ran her tongue along the ridge beneath the stout German's wetly burning penis, and an electric shock seemed to go through his body, jolting him convulsively. God, this little bitch sucks cock good, he thought.
He arched his back, withdrawing his thick, piston-like rod, then with a sharp, sudden motion, rammed it deep inside Janice's mouth, thrusting it back almost to her throat.
Janice gasped at the unexpected violence of the movement, then fought for breath. She caught it as Gunnar withdrew again, beginning to fuck in and out of her roundly ovaled lips, the short pubic hairs surrounding his loins tickling the tip of her perky nose, while his balls swung back and forth and smacked against her chin with a loud, resounding slap. Janice increased her sucking of Gunnar's cock, grinding down hard on the penis that filled the hot, wet cavern of her mouth. One hand snaked around his hips, slipped beneath the top of his pants, and Janice uttered a little cry of disappointment because he didn't have his clothes off, while she lay there without a stitch on, her slim, luscious body exposed to him and Hank, and Charles and everybody.
Without stopping her feathery fingers on Hank's penis, she used her other hand to struggle with Gunnar's clothes and take them off. She slipped her free hand under his pants, wiggled them down as he rolled his hips to help. And then, as they slid low, she touched his bare skin, ran her hand lightly over it, slid it around to touch his balls, to tease them, cupping them, gently squeezing them. She slid her hand on, her fingernails tickling the base of his pulsing cock, running along the underside of his prick as he withdrew it on the backstroke while he continued all the while the rhythmic fucking of her open mouth.
Gunnar could feel the boiling sperm building up in his scrotum, and a sideward glance at Hank's lust contorted face told him that his balls, too, were almost bursting, his loins aching with the excruciating excitement Janice's hand was giving to his ramming cock. She held it tighter and tighter now, a moving back and forth on it, manipulating it, drawing it down and then releasing it, teasing it, tantalizing it with an expertise Hank had never expected. He couldn't stand it any longer, he thought, bursting out with a weird, harsh cry. Janice felt his prick expand and contract in her hand, and then heard his helpless gasps of passion as the hot fluid spurted thickly and wetly in an arc, gushing onto her nakedly rippling stomach, then flowing down over the smoothness of her thighs, seeping hotly down between them like a searing stream of molten lava. .
As Hank cried out, Gunnar's own grating shriek mingled with his voice, and his balls exploded, too, shooting their load of warm male semen into the soft, fleshy warmth of Janice's hungry mouth. The young blonde woman moaned, her body contracting and heaving rhythmically as her own moist juices seeped wetly from the walls of her pussy again, flowing to flood her pink cunt. Gulping to keep from choking, she sucked and swallowed the churning semen that flooded her mouth, groaning with pleasure as she did so, fighting to hold every drop of the pungent liquid in her mouth, licking at the few drops that trickled lewdly from the corners of her mouth. As Gunnar's penis went limp and Hank's collapsed in her hand, Janice lay back, sperm smeared, still, satiated. Her eyes were closed now and she lay motionless.
From feet away, Charles had stared at the whole lurid scene with a disbelief so overwhelming it actually blotted out his disgust. His pale gray eyes bulged from their sockets, his face was red and blotchy. The world whirled around him, making him feel dizzy, sick, as if he were balancing on the edge of a dangerous precipice. His fingernails clawed at the palms of his hands as he clenched his fists in revulsion and pain, and now he looked down to see red claw marks on his hands. That didn't matter; nothing physical could hurt him. But his spirit had been withered by the disgusting things he'd been forced to see. He wasn't even sure he wanted to live.
When Hank ambled over to him to stare into his blank, unseeing void, Charles turned his head. Then with renewed hatred, he realized he did want to live, if only to rip apart these inhuman beasts who'd forced him to suffer through the last hours with agony. "Had enough, Charles?"
Charles averted his eyes, refusing to answer. Hank grabbed him by the shirt collar, nearly tearing it off. "I asked you a question, mister," he snarled, his white teeth clenched through the wiry black mustache and beard hiding his heavy set jaw.
When Charles refused to answer, Hank flew into a rage. "Are you going to cooperate or not?"
Charles turned his head and said, "No."
Hank tore at his hair in fury. "Okay, mister, from now on anything goes. We'll bang that pussy until there's nothing left but a piece of pulp." He turned to Theo then, who'd been quietly guarding their male hostage. "Your turn, Theo, give her a piece of meat she won't forget!"
Theo, pale, frightened, stood limply by, not hastening to take his assigned position between Janice Quincy's milk white widespread thighs where she lay eager and waiting on the bed in the sweltering heat of the single sleeping compartment, barely large enough to accommodate one person, which now, in the mad fiasco of the orgy, bore the unbelievable burden of six sweating bodies. Theo leaned against the wall, one leg crossed over the other, dizzy from the tension and high-strung emotions vibrating in the room, nearly bouncing around the room in nearly visible flashes of color.. . like lightning bolts storming night skies. He wanted no part of it.. . not even the luscious, naked body of Janice Quincy . . . not if it meant he must pay for it later.
He'd had enough pain in his life, and he'd paid dearly for every small favor life had afforded him, which wasn't much, he thought, glancing around the room as if coming out of a deep trance, hearing his name being called from somewhere close by. Was it Hank? Lisa? His mind had been wandering years back, tracing the steps that led him to the impossible inveiglement now facing him.. . prison.. . and he thought about his father who'd drowned when the sea swallowed up he and his fishing boat, and he thought of his cruel stepfather who'd turned Theo out on the streets, like some old dog nobody wanted, to make his own living, and he thought, too, about that blonde girl in Amsterdam who'd taught him the joys of sex and the highs of drugs. She had been the only sparkle in his whole dreary existence . . . and that too, had been taken from him. Not since then had he wanted a woman. Not perhaps, until he'd laid his blue, moody eyes on Janice Quincy's nakedly voluptuous curves.
He felt someone tugging him by the shirt sleeve, then, and he turned to stare into the bearish face of Hank, who snarled his demand. "Come on, I said fuck her!"
With a supreme effort, he placed one foot in front of the other and bewildered, he stared down at the blonde feast awaiting him, wondering if this was another him, wondering if this was another of life's cruel jokes or a feat of martyrdom . . . giving him a taste of something beautiful, only to have it snatched away from him. Anna . . . like his dear Danish Anna.
Softly, he stood over the reclining figure of Janice, smiling down at her. And then he squatted down on Janice's bed, leaning over her, spreading her full, sperm drenched thighs apart with his rough, calloused hands. The pink slit of her cunt was exposed to full view, now, quivering and unbelievably coming to life again along its full, hair-fringed length. Theo drew his finger slowly, carefully, along the line of it, stroking it gently, searching out the bed of her clitoris, bringing it to a full erection.
Janice gasped in delight at the welcome pleasure that sent little feather-like twitches spinning through her vagina, and Theo felt her response and smiled up into her face, a far off dreamy expression spreading across the fine cheek bones of his handsome face.
"Ohhhhhh," moaned Janice, knowing nothing but her mad desire for more sex.
And then Theo plunged his forefinger deep inside Janice's warm, moistly palpitating womb, worming it into the hilt, with drawing, plunging again. OH, God, it felt good, she thought, it felt so good she wished everybody in the room could feel as good as she did then. Especially Charles. Then she opened her eyes and looked up and she gasped to see that Charles' wasn't frowning anymore . . . rational, intellectual Charles had joined the party!
While Theo's finger moved in and out of her tight little pussy, finger-fucking her, Lisa was on her knees before the unresisting Charles, unzipping his pants, poking her hand inside them, feeling under his shorts and finding his soft penis. She began to stroke it gently at first, then more vigorously, nursing it to life, until it sprang into full erection and jerked upright.
Lisa drew it out then, holding Charles' cock in her hand, and then began to tease it, forcing the foreskin back, then running her finger along the tender underside of it. Janice saw her future husband's prick swell to enormous proportions. Was that her party-pooper Charles? she wondered in amazement. Then she saw him begin to respond to Lisa's manipulations, moving back and forth as she clasped him tight, just as Hank had done when Janice had held his organ in her own hand. And now Lisa was bending her head, taking Charles' cock into her wide-open mouth, closing her lips around its tender flesh, sucking on it, her cheeks working madly as Charles' shaft became rock-hard, and began to plunge in and out of Lisa's widely ovaled mouth, shooting forward almost to her throat, withdrawing, then plunging in again. The fear and anger he had felt such a short time before seemed to fade away, and Charles began to feel nothing but the wonderful joy that Lisa brought to him. He shook his head, trying to work things out for himself. For a moment he thought he understood it: He, Charles Tarrington, was indulging in perverted pleasures. But it wasn't really perverted, was it? No, he decided and relaxed and his pulsing cock moved in and out of the young girl's warm buttery mouth, and he felt the churning in his loins, the dull, throb, and knew that this was perhaps the most important, the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to him.
He looked over at his fiancee, and saw that she was doing just what Lisa was doing, sucking the desire-swollen cock of some man. At the same time, Charles saw that Theo was between Janice's legs now, his thick hard cock moving against her pussy, parting her softly curling pubic hairs, and then that Theo had taken his cock in his hand and was guiding it forward, using the rubbery head to open the full lips of her cunt. Now the tip slipped through the tight opening, sliding along the smooth, moist cuntal hole, sinking in farther and farther, while Janice opened her legs as wide as she could and pulled her thighs back to take this hardness deep up inside her belly.
Charles plunged forward into Lisa's mouth, withdrew, plunged in again, while shivers of ecstasy rippled over his whole being, and a strange, uninhibited wave of joy washed over him that he had never believed possible.
Charles glanced at Janice again, and saw that Hank was kneeling beside her and had inserted his finger deep into Janice's nakedly twitching anus, and that she was swiveling around it, her hips rotating. She groaned as he thrust a second finger into the soft, warm buttery depths, and then, as she became accustomed to the intrusion, rammed his thick cock into her rectum as she began to moan with insane sounding pleasure.
Charles quickened his thrusts into Lisa's ovaled mouth, fucking into it hard and deep, his cock boring in to touch her throat, so that the girl choked and fought back; yet Charles plunged on and on, aware that never in his life had he felt such thrills, such excitement. And Janice was dazzled and delighted as Charles watched the three men who invaded her body in such diverse ways, screwing back against their fingers, their tongues, their cocks. He watched her as she began to sway and rock in erotic abandon, and realized that he, too, was caught up in the same mad passion.
The ache in his loins became intolerable, the throbbing length of his rigid cock harder than he imagined it could ever be, and then, he heard
Janice's wild groans: "Oh, God, I'm cummming.. . I'm cummmmmmmming!" And he heard the wild cries of the three men as together they shot their hot, sticky semen into the openings of her young body. As they did, Charles could no longer hold back, and he, too, cried out as all of his boiling, white sperm spewed into Lisa's open, sucking mouth.
It seemed that everyone went limp at the same time, lying back, while the heat and pungent smell of sex permeated the room like a low hanging cloud. Charles was the first to roust himself to look at the others, to examine the situation. Defining this situation was not easy, for everything had changed. He stared at the others, his eyes roving over their exhausted bodies. They were still a bunch of no-good smugglers, dope peddlers, he told himself. Yet they had taught him something they had taught him that he need not be ashamed of his passion, that there was no need for guilt, and that what he had just felt with Lisa was the most wonderful experience he'd ever had.
Charles sensed that he owed these people something, that by crossing class lines he'd learned what life was all about and the true meaning of happiness.
Then, he too, fell back to sleep.
Jorgerson chewed on his beefy lower lip, arms pulled back behind his back, thumbs twitching, eyes focused on the patch of ground where his black polished boots traced yet another dusty circle around his squad car. He'd watched apprehensively as the sky faded from robin's egg blue to pale pink and, now, a dull gray shade was covering the sky.
Something had to be done before nightfall, but not even the blasted pleas from the bullhorn evoked a signal from the railroad car in plain sight, across the tracks. Janice Quincy had not been released, and there was no guessing what horrors had taken place inside that metal box. Had they ripped off her fingernails.. . ? Plucked out her eyebrows? Ruined that gorgeous face forever? And Charles . . . what had happened to him? Executed before the terrified eyes of his fiancee? One gunshot had been heard, but John Jorgerson, twenty-two years on the Amsterdam police force, knew what one bullet, one piece of metal, could do. He shivered.
Deep in the grips of contemplation, he was circling his police car when the crackle of his radio made his thick eyebrows raise, and hastily he grasped through the open window to answer the call from headquarters.
Ti Wong had been captured, this time with enough evidence to put him behind bars until his fingernails turned yellow. "Do not shoot, do not harm the hostages or smugglers," were the orders; they would be more useful as live witnesses against the one time kingpin of Amsterdam's underground drug ring, than they would bloodied with bullet holes.
They'd closed in then, sneaking, crawling on hands and knees, faces caked with dust and fear-drenching sweat, hand over hand, they crept toward the car like prowling alley cats to find no resistance within . . . no resistance at all.