Chapter 4
Harold pushed his tongue forward, allowing it to slide soothingly inside of her moist orifice.
His tingly tongue kept on tickling her clitoris as he moved it speedily, sliding it slowly in the beginning, letting the action develop gradually as he kept pushing his tongue inside of her.
As Harold moved his tongue back and forth with diligent grace, he reached down with both hands and slid his fingers up and down her thighs. He squeezed them ever so sharply, tonguing her all the while, letting his soaring red tongue work with snake-like grace as he drove it deep inside of her gooey, excited box.
The faster that he jolted her with his quick tongue attack, the more forcefully that he moved his fingers as he let them steadily grind up and down her thighs.
He kept moving his tongue vigorously, letting it twist and turn as he slid it inside of her nest. Even though she hated this beast of a man for what he was doing to her, she now had mixed emotions as well. Here she was a virgin girl who had been taught to behave very properly, and not to get involved with a young man until he meant something extra to her. So here she was being worked into a white heat of tempestuous passion by a conceited, arrogant stranger who acted like it was his natural birthright to screw her to whatever extent he wanted.
His slashing tongue kept on working, grinding against her wet, pink mound as he pushed Joyce that much closer to the state of a searing climax.
She began to gasp loudly, her hips flailing back and forth under the stirring, determined tongue strokes of her attentive lover.
A few searing, twisting tongue thrusts later, Harold knew that he was bringing her to the point of orgasm. His quick tongue kept up its vigorous assault as he worked it deep inside of her moist, pink pussy.
As he pushed her to within seconds of an orgasm, he reached out and clasped his fingers solidly around her sleek, white buttocks. The tighter that he squeezed, the faster and deeper that he buried his tongue inside of her wet, inviting cunt.
After a few more piercing strokes, the juices just had to be released from her hot, excited nest. As his swirling tongue kept on working back and forth, the juices started to splash from her pussy and into his mouth.
Her eyes rolled and Joyce could no longer help but feel waves of joy and passion as she watched his tongue roll around inside of his mouth and in the direction of her cunt, as he sought to catch every precious droplet of her warm, inviting womanly stream.
She watched as some of the cunt droplets rolled down the left side of his face and eventually landed on the sheets. It made her feel a high level of excitement to just see what was happening, to be experiencing such a wild cuntal assault from a man who had gone further than any other man she had ever encountered up to that point in her life.
After he had swallowed the last few drops of her volcanic load, Harold released his tongue from her pussy. He reached out and patted her on top of the head.
"That was good," he said. "You're learning. With me teaching you, you can't help but become an expert."
"What makes you think I liked it?"
"Don't play any phony games with me," Harold said. "When a gal's wiggling her ass like you were and her legs are shaking like she's got a bad case of the St. Vitus Dance, there's no doubt about the fact that she's turning on."
"You're awfully sure of yourself, aren't you?"
At that point Harold slid his body upward from the bed. He walked over to the chair on which he had laid his clothes and began to put on his shorts.
"You're damned right," he said. "I have a right to feel sure of myself. I've accomplished quite a bit when it comes to sex."
Suddenly Joyce began to experience a feeling of relief. As she watched this confident but highly strange man put on his shorts, then his shirt, she recognized for the first time that he wasn't planning on going any further.
His strange retreat astonished her, considering the fact that he still had his huge, bulging cock.
At first she was so astonished over the strange, quick turn of events that she almost felt like asking him just what he was up to, or what he would be doing next. After thinking it over, she decided not to say anything. Just maybe she was going to be able to escape with her virginity intact. After all, she thought, even though Harold had taken liberties with her body and had brought forth juices from her pussy, that wasn't the same thing as puncturing her cherry with that thick, terrifying cock of his.
Harold finished tying his shoes, then walked quickly toward the door.
"You'll be having dinner in about an hour," he said. "Orlando will be serving your meals. If there's anything else you want, it's up to you to ask him. As I pointed out before, you say nothing directly to me. You make no requests. Do you understand?"
"Yes, I understand."
"And you can call me Harold. I'll let you call me that. That's about the only informality I'll tolerate, however. Is that fully understood?"
"It is," she nodded.
"Good. You'll have a much healthier and more enjoyable stay around here if you don't do anything to antagonize me. I can't stress that point enough."
"I understand, Harold."
"That's good. Just see that you play along like a smart girl. You don't look or act dumb, so don't disappoint me."
Harold closed the door behind him and suddenly Joyce felt a certain measure of relief. At least she wouldn't have to hold back the emotions that were pent-up within her.
She buried her head in her hands and burst into tears, then threw herself on top of the bed and sobbed against the pillow.
Joyce cried for the better part of half an hour, then remembered that Harold had told her Orlando would be serving her dinner in a matter of an hour. She decided that she had better put on her clothes. She certainly didn't want to face the prospect of being nude when Orlando walked in. It was bad enough to have to be stripped for Harold's benefit.
She jumped up from the bed, walking over toward the clothes closet in the corner of the room. She hoped that at least her dress would be inside. Even though it was certainly the formal kind of dress that one didn't normally wear in these circumstances, at least it would be a way of shielding part of her body from Orlando.
Her heart sank in disappointment when she saw that the clothes closet was completely bare. The only clothing items that she could put on were her panties and bra, which meant that she would be practically naked when Orlando arrived with her dinner.
In order to cover up as best as possible, she threw herself underneath the sheet and lay there ever so stiffly, waiting for Orlando to arrive. It was so still that she could hear the sound of splashing waves in the distance, which apparently could have meant that Harold was not lying. They were at least somewhere close to water, and perhaps they were on a tiny, isolated island, just as he had said.
Orlando opened the door and wheeled a cart inside her room. As she lay there underneath the covers, he looked down at her and frowned. Orlando was clad in the same outfit that he had worn on the ship, the same form-fitting T-shirt, blue jeans and sailor's hat.
"Are you sick or something?" he asked.
"Why do you ask me that?" she queried.
"Because you're lying under the covers. Get out from under the covers. Let's have a look at you."
From the determined look on Orlando's face, she knew that she could not bear to risk incurring the wrath of the huge, heavily muscled Negro. And so she pulled back the covers and revealed her semi-naked body.
"What a hunk of ass you are," he laughed. "Harold always has had very good taste."