Chapter 11
No more than an hour after slipping away into the gloom of midnight, the three girls were herded back into the crumbling shack on the south slope of the Pyrenees with a silent Schmidt at their backs with the menacing pistol at their heads.
As the German rekindled the fire, they saw the old Basque trussed against one of the stone walls and they understood. It had been his duty to stand guard-but Faubine had been right. She had fucked him out, until he slept like a baby.
"Take off your clothes," the German said sharply and they saw, stark and clear, the fury that oozed from him like sweat from every pore.
In quiet terror, they disrobed and stood shivering in the night chill, hugging themselves, arms folded across their firm breasts.
One by one, Schmidt, wrath in his pale eyes like gun steel, tied their wrists and lashed them to rough poles serving as ceiling beams. Much the same as Yvette had been tied back at the village in the old fish warehouse.
And they stood naked, all on tiptoe, heads bowed, as Schmidt stalked about them, brandishing the pistol and cursing and lashing their bare bottoms, their thighs, their backs with a length of rough hemp-rope he had left over.
"The second time you have tried to run off," he muttered, dropping the pistol into his coat pocket and lashing at them in fierce anger, the rope curling around their middles to snap sharply, raising red welts, the ends breaking their satiny, tender skin.
The old Basque muttered, whined and jabbered in a pleading voice. The German turned on him in a fury and began kicking at him with his booted feet, aiming the toe at that prodigious growth attached to his groin, but missing.
Schmidt drew out a knife and cut the bonds around the old man's legs, heaved him to his feet, fashioned a noose around his neck and secured the free end to a ceiling beam. He drew back his fist, aimed it at that grotesque face, then slowly let it fall to his side.
He stepped up to the man, spat in his face, seized the front of his pants and cut and sawed with the knife, cutting off the man's clothes. Panting, Schmidt stood back and stared evilly at the naked guide and herder.
Schmidt reached and lifted that enormous prick with the point of the knife blade, shook his head as if in wonderment. "Why would Gott bless such afoul, ugly old bastard with such a magnificent cunt-buggerer. Surely, a freak." He hesitated, continued. "What I wouldn't give to be such a freak." He let the point of the knife drift under the man's enormous sac of nuts and prodded until the old man groaned in terror and pain.
"No, Old Man, I'm not going to de-nut you-just yet," the German smiled thinly. And he put away the knife. For several minutes, he strode around the room, hands clasped above his butt, head bowed, as if in deep thought.
He paused occasionally to kick bare asses of the girls with the side of his foot. "You must be punished," he murmured abstractly, as if mulling over a fitting chastisement.
After stoking the fire again, he rummaged in the backpacks and brought out an unopened bottle of cognac, obviously one he had horded on their nefarious pilgrimage.
From time to time, he muttered, using French and German. He would pause and mutter again, in a different tone, as if he were answering himself or agreeing with his solitary consultation.
Disappointment and despair over their failure gradually dwindled from Yvette Giraud and she was obsessed with a loathing and fear of Deiter Schmidt who was becoming drunker and drunker as he sat off by himself, feet crossed, the bottle beside him as he honed the knife on a small pocket stone.
Warily, she glanced askance at him, puzzled and frightened when she saw him whittling and smoothing four pieces of firewood about the size of-of-of the old Basque's cock. The chill of the night nearly forgotten as she watched, a heat of humiliation and dread surged through her.
The arrogant, selfish, treacherous German-remember Carmalle?-was rounding the tips of the four sticks. Why four? He carefully carved a ridge behind the rounded ends. Just like a man's hard cock. She shuddered and the recent surge of heat surrendered to a chill of fear and consternation.
Schmidt cast a quick glance toward them as they dangled like carcasses of butchered animals and laughed to himself, almost an insane giggle. He drank the cognac and lapped his tongue at his dribbling saliva as he resumed working on the four sticks of wood. He was very careful to scrape smooth, but did not remove nodules along the sticks, leaving huge, hard warts.
At last he seemed satisfied and stumbled to his feet and stamped his feet to restore circulation. Yvette noticed, with a fleeting air of gloating and triumph that his pants were unbuttoned and tousles of his light hair protruded, but did not conceal the white arch of his half-hard peter.
He paraded around them, flourishing the rounded, ugly pieces of carved firewood. Before each of the girls, he stopped and rubbed one of the crude phalluses over their breasts, between them, down their bellies and prodded at their sex zones. When they refused to open their mouths, he would rap them on the sides of the head until they obeyed, then he poked the rounded ends into their mouths, hesitated long enough, with a baleful glare, to be certain they would retain them.
When he stopped, turning militarily, stumbling slightly from the drink, he hit the old man a body-shuddering blow in the middle of the face. The old man spat at him, a mixture of spittle and blood and broken teeth. Schmidt, cursing, hit him again and shoved the remained stick so far into the broken mouth the old man gagged.
Yvette's stomach rolled and she retched, nearly overcome with nausea. She winced for the old man when the German jerked the stick, flecked with blood, from his mouth and staggered behind the naked old Basque.
Yvette turned her head to stare back over her shoulder as Schmidt beat the old man on the buttocks with the stick, cursing furiously in German and French. When the old man relaxed convulsively, Schmidt used one hand to open up the hairy crack and jabbed brutally with the rounded end of the stick.
The old man wailed softly, rose up on tiptoes and blood dribbled down his whiskery chin. His eyes rolled with hate and pain. Yvette's breath caught painfully in her breast as she watched the stick begin to vanish between the clenched cheeks of the stubborn old Basque.
Yvette was momentarily intrigued as Schmidt ruthlessly fucked the stick in and out of the old man's asshole, each time ramming it in deeper. The old man bleated in anguish. But each time the stick was fucked into him, his long, sagging cock would twitch and thicken. Jerkily, it started to rise, rearing straight out from his crotch until it was so blood-engorged it was too heavy to stand up and slumped out and down, the fat knob glistening in the flickering firelight.
"Eeeeehhhhhaaaaa!" Schmidt cackled drunkenly, exultantly, spearing the warty stick info the old man's rectum. He finally tired of his sport and stumbled around to confront the three young women.
One by one, he retrieved the sticks from their mouths, sat on his haunches, fumbled between their legs, in their crotches and set the sticks. Marie and Faubine whimpered and wept as he reamed and screwed the improvised phalluses into their tortured cunts. But Yvette merely glowered at him contemptuously, lifted her head proudly, even spread her thighs as best she could from the forced posture and accepted the big, round stick up her aching, searing pussy.
She was dismayed and ashamed when she found nuances of pleasure from the rough insertion of the vile object into her cunt. But the prominent nodules all along the shaft provoked uncanny thrills deep in her cunt, all the way into her womb.
Yvette stifled a cry of ecstasy as the thin-lipped Schmidt proceeded to fuck the stick in and out of her burning hole and Faubine's, who was suspended next to her. Faubine swore softly and twisted back and forth, legs trembling as the stick was forced on her.
Marie started weeping, her bowed chin at the top of the wide cleft between her jiggling boobies. Schmidt glanced at her and muttered something unintelligible as he shuffled over to confront her.
He seized the outer end of the stick in both hands and fucked it to her as fast as he could lever his long, muscular arms. Yvette peered over, squinting and was certain she saw a moisture seeping from Marie's corked cunt, soaking the pistoning stick Schmidt had fashioned into a crude, imitation cock.
She began howling and dancing on tiptoe and Yvette knew, from the wild, lustful expression that Marie was catapulting into a carnal, unnormal orgasm. The auburn-haired young woman was doing her best to fuck the obscene stick, trying to bring her naked ass and sopping cunt down on the plunging wooden prick.
Schmidt began laughing, a tone of hysteria in his voice, as he rammed the stick deeper and deeper into Marie's sex-channel. And she was taking it, begging for more, pleading for Schmidt to ram it deep into he twat and twist it around and around so the bumps of the shaft would heighten the pleasure of her rampant climax.
Finally the German's arms wearied or he grew bored with alternately fucking their cunts with the sticks. He staggered away to retrieve the bottle of cognac and gulped it thirstily, coughing and choking slightly from he fiery bite of the liquor.
His attention was caught by the old Basque who was grunting and straining, as if trying to "shit" the huge stick from his rectum. The German officer circled him and shoved it even farther into his bowels, stooped to get a hand on the end and cornholed him mercilessly until the old Basque's body was twisting and bobbing helplessly.
Yvette was astonished to see his prick was swollen to an enormous length and thickness, sagging out from his groin, the head pointed out in front of his feet at the dirt floor.
"You horse-hung old son of a bitch," the German breathed, squatting in front of the old man, thumping the head and along the blood-ridged shaft with his thumb. "What a handsome cock," he intoned, now running the tip of an index finger from the great head up along the top of the long barrel.
The old Basque groaned and his middle undulated. Yvette didn't know whether he was trying to elude the German's touch, or he was deriving perverted pleasure from having his sensitive organ attended.
For a moment, a slackness ebbed through Schmidt's body and his shoulders slumped. He glanced toward the fire and Yvette saw a wistful expression in his eyes that baffled her. A shudder of Schmidt's body almost caused him to topple onto his right side. But he caught himself by seizing the Basque's gigantic cock in both fists for support.
He cast a furtive, wistful glance at the girls and he emitted a plaintive, weeping sigh. With a soft sniffling, he edged closer and sniffed the huge cock-head as his hands stroked in long, slow flogging motions up and down the dark-skinned shaft.
"My God, noooooo," the German sobbed in a tone of agony.
And Yvette had a glimmering of insight. The proud German officer was queer. She glanced at the inscrutable face of the ugly Basque as he peered down at the hands on his prick, at the German's face so near the dark-purple head of his cock.
He knows, too, Yvette thought.
She whispered to Faubine who whispered across to Marie who was crying softly, trying to fuck herself on the stick that was stuck far up into her oozing pussy. And all three turned their attention to the German hunkered before the suspended Basque.
"Aaaaaaarrrrrrgggggggg," Schmidt growled deep in his throat. His hands, clasped together on the huge cock, were sailing up and down that long column of fuck meat. He bent his head forward, inhaled noisily. Sobs wracked his body as his tongue crept out and he tasted the dark plum. "Aaaaarrrrgggggggg," he growled again, a tone of self-condemnation in his voice.
The German seemed to resign himself and let his pink tongue rove over the slick-skinned sex-fruit that pulsed rhythmically in the flickering, dying light of the fire. As his lips closed over the succulent knob, he continued jacking off the old man with one hand while the other lifted his heavy balls lovingly.
There was a soft smacking of lips and slurping in the still night in the cabin as he murmured with enchanting satisfaction. The German began bobbing his face on the big prick, pausing to force an expansion of his throat. Then he forced himself forward, his neck straightening so he could gore his gullet with the tremendous prick hanging straight out from the old Basque's hairy crotch.
With an uncontrollable shudder of his shoulders, the German gave himself over to his wanton, depraved desires. The focus left his eyes as he stared at the dark forest of the Basque's sheeny pubic hair. The tips of his fingers dented lovingly into the beautiful hunk of prick he held and he massaged it tenderly as he dipped his mouth far down, down, down on the succulent prick.
He murmured with enthrallment as his tongue savored the hot, vibrant raw fuck-meat. With the head caught just at the arc of his throat, he sucked his cheeks in snugly, then backed off, tenderly mouth-fucking the pulsing knob. He rested for a minute, letting his tongue swizzle and swirl around that delicious mouthful of prick.
But as he rested, his right hand flogged along the thick length of the enormous shaft. He fondled the mammoth balls with his left hand, goading and loving those fantastic producers of love-honey.
Yvette felt herself turning a little ill, all but forgetting the provocative, false cock imbedded in her writhing, coiling pussy as she watched the arrogant German on his knees, giving the ugly old Basque a noisy, slurpy blow-job.
She was conscious of a twinge of pity as she listened to the sounds of cock-sucking and the plaintive sobs escaping from his narrowed nostrils. Intuitively, she knew he hated himself for submitting to a depraved act, but was unable to abstain. It was clear to her bewildered mind that the German officer dearly loved the taste of cock, the feel of a huge male sex organ plowing in and out of his mouth.
Idly, Yvette wondered, as she watched the German struggle to take all of that monstrous cock into his throat, mouth now stretched into contorted ugliness, how many cocks of his superior officers and his own men he had sucked off.
By his actions, Yvette knew Schmidt was an expert at going down on a cock and sucking the thick, pearly juice from it. He had timed the old Basque's ejaculation perfectly and had all of his cock buried in his gullet as the great prick began gushing like a fountain.
A sensation of depraved envy flashed heatedly through Yvette as she watched the expert, loving attention Schmidt rendered to that mammoth cock. His fingers played along the base and his other hand began milking that ponderous sac of nuts to goad every last trickle and droplet of jizz into his mouth.
All the while, the German was gulping and guzzling and gurgling with enchantment. His body shook and hunched as if her were in the throes of delectable fucking. He began whimpering as the flowing flood of jizz dwindled.
He let his hands drift from the root of the man's prick and his heavy balls to undo, lower his pants. He carried a huge hard-on himself and Yvette felt a twinge of yearning for it in her pussy in place of the stick on which her fuck muscles were working feverishly.
The German was totally oblivious to the presence of the girls as he continued sucking cock while he struggled frantically to get out of his clothing.
At last, with a sigh of regret, he took his mouth off that huge prick, straightened, holding it in both hands.
He was weeping softly as he looped an arm around the thick, bullish neck of the trussed Basque and stepped close to him.
Schmidt raised on tiptoe and thrust the long prick between his trembling thighs. He danced his body upward, trying to lodge the thick, blunt bulb at his anus, but his legs were too short to achieve the proper angle.
With a whimper of impatience, he balanced himself on one leg, leaned far to that side and lifted his free leg. Yvette squinted and strained her eyes to see in the dark valley between the mounds of the German's ass.
She breathed with a carnal excitement as she saw Schmidt succeed in positioning the huge cock-knob at his dark brown dimple. His eyes blinked away tears as he held the cock firmly and slowly lowered his upswung leg toward the dirt floor of the shack.
"Aaaaaarrrrrggggggghhhhhhh," he sobbed in a high, quavering voice as the big point dented his anus. Schmidt struggled and grimaced as he forced his asshole down. He stiffened and screamed, clinging to the neck of the Basque as his butt hole was penetrated, stretched to the point of tearing.
Instead of climbing off that torturous impalement, he jiggled his body on the spit-slimed prick and the three young women watched, in amazement as it slowly disappeared into the German's asshole.
When he had about half of it up his rectum, Schmidt was able to plant both feet on the floor. He faced the Basque squarely, both arms around his shoulders and he hugged him to him, sobbing shamefully. With quick, short body jounces, he took that gut-stretching-busting cock up into his body. As the cock entered his bowels, the German began hunching and rotating his naked ass to facilitate the deeper and deeper penetration.
His sobs of pain slowly ebbed and he began kissing the leathery cheeks and the tattered, thick lips of the old Basque who accepted his endearments passively. The German began muttering softly, tone one of love.
Once, he felt around to his behind to feel the monstrous prick lancing up into his asshole. With all of it up his butt, he again corralled the old man's shoulders with both arms and began fucking away on that obscene prick.
After a time, he began screeching and he threw his head back, fucking his asshole on that great cock as fast as he could swing and sway and hunch his body. He began spewing jizz and it sprayed and spattered up between their locked bodies.
She, Yvette, knew when the old man again turned loose a torrent of jizz in the German's asshole by the way Schmidt cooed and kissed the old man, still fucking away furiously.
It was disgusting, yet intriguing to the three women to watch a man make love to another-and, maybe, do it better than they could.
Suddenly, Schmidt hurled himself off that giant prick and stumbled away, both hands feeling his ravaged asshole. He began cursing and weeping, hate and contempt all over his Aryan face.
He scrambled for his clothes, threw them aside and groped in his coat pocket. He drew out the ugly, lethal pistol and bent again in front of the old Basque. He lifted that huge cock that was still very thick and hard. He shook tears from his pale, soulful eyes and held the long prick parallel to the floor.
Yvette barely had time to gasp as the German carefully touched the muzzle of the pistol to the gaping, oozing slit in the head of the Basque's cock.
With a scream of self-loathing, the German pulled the trigger. The bullet coursed up the barrel of the man's thick prick, through his bowels and shattered his backbone. The old Basque died as blood and bone and splinters from the stick in his asshole showered the dark shack.