Chapter 14
Yvette sensed the Nazi was nearing an end to blowing the young Spaniard's cock. She could see flecks of cum on his O'ed lips, then droplets of thick, creamy jizz escaped at the corners of his mouth.
His mewlings of passion slowly were transformed into muffled rantings of hate and self-condemnation. A terror quickly burgeoned in the little blonde's heart as she saw his hands leave the writhing young man's balls and grope at his coat.
He is searching for the pistol, Yvette thought, knowing, instinctively that when he had his hand on it, the young man who was pumping out his prick in the German's mouth had a short time to live.
Yvette shivered. There was a sudden iciness deep in her pussy that no amount of tonguing could ease. She gathered her strength, lifted her pussy from that sucking mouth and stood on wobbly legs. She stumbled to one side as Schmidt plucked the Luger from the coat pocket.
Frantically, she searched the small bridge of the boat for something with which to deter the German's lethal intent. He was still sucking and mouthing and bobbing his face on that luscious cock, mouth-fucking ravenously and she thought she might have a little time.
She stood, frozen for a second when she saw the pistol vanish between the young Spaniard's quivering, updrawn thighs. He howled in surprise and pain-and Yvette knew Schmidt must have rammed the muzzle of the pistol deep into his rectum. She could visualize his asshole being ripped by the sharp, prominent blade sight on the end of the gun barrel.
Schmidt was sobbing loudly, the sound partly muffled by the obscene slurping of his mouth on that gorgeous prick that soon would be just a hunk of dead, limp meat. Unless she was able to do something.
Then her eyes were attracted to a heavy pole on the deck beyond the wheel, in the shadows. She seized it, recognized it as the handle of a broken gaff. In less than a second, she spun about to address the groveling German who had all of that handsome cock down his throat, forehead pressed to the naked groin of the man under him.
She had no idea how hard to swing the club-so she flailed away with it, hitting the Nazi above the ear, along his right temple. The young man yelped as he also took the force of the blow on his hip bone.
With a gurgling sigh, the German collapsed, spit and jizz trickling from his slack mouth. For a moment, there was a puzzled expression on the young man's face, then he squirmed away from the unconscious German, the pistol still imbedded up his asshole.
Wincing, he carefully pulled the cold steel from his bowels, wiped it on the Nazi's coat, checked it and carefully set the safety. "He was going to kill me?" he said in a whisper of disbelief that turned to hate before he finished the question.
"You and your friend below," Yvette replied in a tight voice, gesturing toward the aft section of the boat where they could hear muffled voices, obviously of people engaged in lustful sex.
"The son of a bitch," the wan-faced young Spaniard muttered as he kicked the inert German in the ribs, in the flanks, up between his legs, his foot making a soggy sound as it smashed into the Nazi's balls and half-limp prick.
As she watched the corrupt Nazi being abused, all the hate Yvette had nurtured since her village was overrun came to the surface of her senses like a feverish blister. But she eased forward, took his arm and gradually deterred him from perhaps stomping the German to death.
Gradually the mixture of fury and terror at what almost had happened cooled in him. "Throw the cock-sucking bastard overboard?"
Yvette stared down at the trembling Schmidt. "Let's take off all his clothes and tie him up?" She bent to struggle with Schmidt's clothing. "Help me," she demanded.
They had just finished stripping him when the other young man, Marie and Faubine mounted the ladder to stare silently. "Aaaaaiiiigggghhhh!" Faubine began screeching and raging, erupting in an insane fury. Bewildered, the man from below restrained her, held her naked body in his entwining arms.
"We better tie him," Yvette suggested when Schmidt began stirring and mumbling incoherently.
The man who had received the benefits of Schmidt's blow-job nodded, turned and seized a length of light line. His companion pushed Faubine aside and the two of them stretched him out across the deck.
Schmidt's pale eyes were blinking balefully, comprehension coming back to him by the time he was tied, spread-eagled on the mahogany deck. For less than a minute, he struggled, then realized the hopelessness of his situation and peered expectantly at his five captors.
"Shoot me," he said evenly. And there was a light of sincerity in his eyes, a pitiful tone of self-loathing in his voice.
Yvette's lips twisted into a sneer as she bent over him, aware of her bare breasts quivering like rubber. "No, no, no," she said deliberately, shaking her head. "That would be too good for you."
She was astonished by the cold fury that gripped her. Yet, she was in remarkable control of herself. "I want you to suffer just some of the agony you have dealt us-that you filthy Germans have during this long, long, viscious war."
Almost as if the three young women had talked it over, they knelt beside the prone Nazi. With a soft growl deep in her throat, Faubine began punching Schmidt's face with her tiny fists. Yvette considered stopping th'e young woman, but decided she was entitled to her satisfaction.
The German whimpered constantly, trying to twist his head from side to side to avoid the blows. But Faubine was adept at anticipating him and in minutes his eyes were swollen shut, his face a mass of red welts, blood streaming from his nose and mouth.
Marie began hammering her fists at his midsection and Yvette wondered why she avoided punching him in his cock and balls. She peered into Marie's intent face, saw a slow transformation. Her eyes were draining of hatred and Yvette saw a different kind of lust starting to fill them.
"Errrrrggggggg," Marie growled, hesitating, fists clenching and unclenching. "You dirty, son of a bithin' cocksucker," Marie screeched and she seized the German's prick and squeezed it ruthlessly with both hands.
The knob swelled, dark and shiny as blood was forced into it. In spite of the punishment being inflicted on him, Schmidt's prick began thickening, lengthening and stiffening.
Yvette found it slightly incredulous that he should get a hard-on while he was being abused. But there was no doubt that his cock was growing under the brutal flogging Marie was administering.
Faubine had left off beating his face, panting for breath, sobbing and crying genuine tears. She wiped away blood with her hands, swiveled her body to squat on Schmidt's puffy face. "Now, suck out my pussy," she whined, rutting her gash on his lean, angular face.
With a plaintive cry, Marie lowered her face and sucked in the fat head of the German's cock. Yvette was bewildered by the change in the young woman who brushed aside her sleek, auburn hair as she greedily bobbed her face, mouth-fucking avidly.
Yvette knew the girls were getting to the trussed
Nazi by the way he was muttering and slurping at Faubine's snatch. And his middle began lurching erratically, up-fucking his cock as Marie went all the way down on him, slowly, slowly, her lips taut around his pale, meaty shaft.
Just watching produced a wanton passion in Yvette's heart and she shook her head against a sweet dizziness. She reached with a trembling hand, pushed away Marie's hand and cupped Schmidt's heavy, rubbery balls.
She peered dreamily across Marie's naked back at the two young Spanish men. She squinted at them as they stood close together, whispering, but she paid no heed to the sly expressions on their dark, animated faces.
While fumbling with Schmidt's husky nuts, Yvette searched and probed with a finger. Schmidt groaned and his ass lurched when she found the taut, pliant dimple of his anus.
"Take it up your ass," she growled, gouging roughly. She felt a trembling in his gonads as her finger penetrated him and she hooked and swizzled it around in the dark, wet, hotness of his butt hole.
"Uuuuum-um-um-um," Marie began mewling, her face rising and falling rapidly on that milk-white column of fuck-flesh. "Cummmm," she whined raggedly, her fist milking around the base of his long sex-stump.
Yvette felt his jizz-pump priming and began cornholing him as fast as she could with her finger. She shivered delectably as her own pussy began pop-popping, thrilling just from the experience of the three of them working over the tall German, Faubine with her cunt on his mouth and Marie sucking voraciously on his quivering prick.
Suddenly, the boat changed course and the three young women struggled to retain their balance and position. Yvette scowled as the boat lurched forward, picking up speed. The movement of the boat caused the broken gaff handle to roll against her left leg.
She started to hurl it away, then a hatefulness began raging through her. With the smooth, rounded length of wood in one hand, Yvette squirmed around until she was kneeling between the Nazi's spread thighs.
With a soft whine, she yanked her finger out of Schmidt's rectum and aimed the rounded end of the handle. The German yelled in consternation as she brought pressure to bear, denting into his asshole.
Grunting, Yvette, gripping the handle as hard as she could in both fists, began screwing it back and forth as she leaned her weight against the crude spear.
Suddenly, his sphincter stretched and some six inches of the handle slid into his retching asshole. At the same time, his prick erupted with Marie sucking and mouth-fucking him and gulping his spurting cum.
A crazed haze inundated Yvette's brain and she continued hefting the thick wooden handle into his behind. A sex-lust seized her and her pussy oozed a hot stickiness. She watched, all but hypnotized, as the pole vanished up his butt.
Faubine began howling and rutting her snatch on the German's face, climaxing wildly as the boat sped through the moonlit night. Panting for breath, Yvette relaxed her hands on the pole and stared at the brutal impalement of the Nazi's bowels. She was astonished that he would shoot off his jizz-gun with his rectum crammed full of that huge wooden handle.
But he was gushing cum into Marie's flushed face and she sucked mightily to swallow his outpouring. Yvette took a deep breath, tugged on the pole, pulling about a foot of it out of Schmidt's guts.
He emitted a ragged sigh of relief. Then screamed as Yvette fucked it back up the hole between his legs. His nuts rolled high in their sac and she saw a shuddering expansion at the base of his cock.
"More " she gasped, straining and shafting more and more of the post into his guts. She had no idea how much of it he could accommodate, but she was seized with an insane wish to ram all of it up him-some three feet.
Emitting a carnal shriek, Marie lifted her mouth from that enormous cock, hustled over him and brought her vicious pussy down all the way on it, her rounded buttocks smacking meatily against his belly and hard groin bone.
Yvette began gliding the handle in and out of his asshole that was now stretched to take it smoothly, with little resistance. She nodded as Marie, pumping her body up and down on that big prick, lifted his heavy nuts out of the way and bent forward to watch Yvette fuck the thick hunk of wood into his asshole.
Schmidt howled in agony and he kicked helplessly as more and more of the stick was shoved up him. A shudder cascaded through him and a scream sort of died in his throat, dwindling away to nothing.
Yvette knew he was leaving them, dying by inches. Yet, his cock remained hard for a long time as Marie continued fucking him. A chill lanced through her as she thought of the macabre idea of fucking a dead man's prick.
With a final lunge, Yvette, sobbing softly now, rammed all but about a foot of the handle into his dead asshole. She slumped back on the deck, crying and blinking away the tears.
Dully, she listened to the two young Spaniard's talking excitedly, pointing beyond the prow of the racing boat which swerved. Numbly aware of her nakedness, but not caring, she levered herself to a half-standing position and stared at land, the small cover they had entered.
In the distance, she saw a wan, flickering fire. As the boat slacked to a stop and one of the men hustled to drop anchor, Yvette turned to Faubine and Marie. "Get off him," she said softly. "Faubine, he can't suck out your pussy any more-and you can't fuck his cock anymore, Marie; he's dead."
Numbly, she was aware of one of the young men lowering a small boat, oaring away toward shore. She led her two friends away from the dead German, down the ladder to the aft deck, clutching her clothes under one arm.
But the man remaining with the boat shook his head, prevented them from dressing. "Just wait," he said, smiling, even white teeth gleaming in the brilliant moonlight.
Spent, exhausted physically and mentally, the three young women slouched against the boat railing, silently accepting mugs of strong, tart wine the young man offered.
Sometime later, the muffled voice of the man who had rowed away came softly from the shadowy side of the boat. "It is done, bring them over."
Shaken and bewildered, they allowed themselves to be helped over the side and into the boat. Dimly, as the small boat was propelled toward the shadowy shore, Yvette saw figures striding up and down the moon-drenched beach.
"Our clothes?" Yvette whimpered.
"Hush," one of the men plying the oars said tersely.
As the boat beached, the two young men sprang into the idle surf, yanked them out of the boat and pushed them onto land. Immobilized by terror, the three young women were groped and pinched and prodded by the group of Arabs who nodded and muttered softly.
"Heeeeyyy! Nooooo?" Yvette complained as one of the bewhiskered Arabs led her aside a few paces, shoved her down on the sand. Instinctively, she knew what was happening to them; they had been betrayed and sold by the two young Spanish men who stood to one side, counting coins out of a rough leather pouch.
She stared up from her prone position, trying to shield her nakedness from the glittering eyes of the Arab. Off a ways out of her vision, she heard Faubine and Marie whimpering in panic.
Yvette huddled on the sand, watching the man above her shuffling and fumbling with his clothing, getting his cock out, ready to give it to her.
She sobbed convulsively as he knelt between her creamy thighs, pushing her knees up and wide apart. In perfect French, he said clearly, "You will bring a good whore-price in Algiers."
Yvette shuddered, smelling the stale body odor of the man hovering over her. Her body trembled as his hand fumbled between her legs, fingers opening up her pursed pussy lips. She took one look at his mammoth prick, the head huge and dark and smooth. Then she lay her head back as he shuffled forward, laid the huge knob in her slot.
"Ooooohhhh, my God," she whimpered as he held her down with his hands covering, mashing her bare, heaving titties. She retched slightly, feeling the probing of the head of his cock, pressing and crushing the inner flaps of flesh in her O'ed vulva.
She tried to shrink her ass away, into the sand. But he gouged at her entry, lunged his hips and Yvette screamed, taking some four inches of monstrous, smelly cock into her aching pussy.
He backed out of her and, somehow, her hole caught the thick flange of the head of his prick, holding him in her. Yvette gasped and tensed, most of her weight rolled back on her shoulders, her curvy ass up off the sand.
He grunted and bucked at her, driving his prick a little deeper into her quivering, burning snatch. "Ooooohhh, God," she sobbed, feeling her insides were being torn by his ravishing cock.
Instead of fucking in and out, he kept the depth he had gained and just threw the weight of his ass against his rigid spine of flesh.
With each inch of prick wedged into her, Yvette sobbed and winced. When he reared up over her slender body, his heavy, hairy balls knocked heavily against the crack of her ass, against her itching, burning asshole.
If he would only rest a little, let it soak 'til she had a chance to get his prick well lubricated, she knew she would be able to take him okay. But he seemed anxious, like an animal, to drive his prick all the way into her twat as soon as he could.
In a few minutes, a great relief flooded through her as there was a spongy easing of her cunny walls. He grunted his satisfaction and finished socking the very last of his prick to her, into her fluttering fuck-well.
She glanced along his left side and saw her right leg all drawn up, pressing against his flank. Yvette wished he wouldn't lean so heavily on her, his hands crushing her titties flat, so she could breathe easier.
As if aware of her wishes, he withdrew his weight when he snaked his hard, musky prick out of her until just the thick, firm head was lodged in her.
"Aaaaggghhhhh," she gasped when he slammed it back up her hot hole, fucking his prick in deep, his big balls plopping against her itching butt hole, the hair tickling and scratching in the shallow valley between her ass cheeks.
Slowly, unbidden, her body began to rock back and forth with his plundering assault on her pussy. Earlier twinges of humiliation and terror were subsiding and her innards were beginning to respond favorably, delectably to that enormous cock thudding and thumping into her contracting twat.
A dreaminess crept over her senses and all she could focus on was the enchantment of being fucked, of having her twinging cunt rammed full of romping prick.
No, she decided hazily, not bad, not bad at all. He may be a stinking old Arab, she mused, but he certainly knew how to fuck a girl and use his mammoth cunt-plunger. If only he hadn't said what he had said about selling them as whores in Algiers.
Well, she thought, she could ponder that later. Right then all she wanted to do was enjoy the wonderful cunt-pounding this massive prick was giving her.
Yvette began mumbling almost incoherently for the panting old man to fuck it to her! "I'm gonna-I'm gonna-cuuuuummmm," she wailed, really shaking her ass to swirl her pussy on that pounding prick.
Just as she was about to spiral into orgasm, he jerked his cock out of her suctioning snatch. And Yvette cried out in dismay.
But he had it back in her in a couple of seconds. She cried out in momentary alarm as he sawed his cock into her. Her eyes widened as she realized what he had done. He had dropped his pussy-sopping prick into the sand and he was shoving it to her all coated with sand.
And she found it was absolutely heavenly, the way it slid in and out of her, the grit propelling her into the most violent, tempestuous pussy-popping ever.
As Yvette careened through her enthralling climax, she decided, brain fuck-feverish, that if she did have to be a whore, she would certainly keep a supply of sand on hand to apply to a man's-men's-pricks.