Chapter 9
Gloria Danfield lay lifeless, sprawled like a ravaged corpse some army on the march had left in its wake, one arm under her head to keep it off the gritty sand. She lay quietly, though steadily shivering both in fear now and in total absolute revulsion and despair. She hated herself, hated and despised the very core of her womanhood as though her own body had treasonously betrayed her, deserting her for the wicked, perverted pleasures of a few minutes of forbidden carnal excitement. She couldn't deny it, though God knows she tried — she had actually started to enjoy that awful, disgusting tiling the Cuban was doing to her! He was only humping her like she was some gutter tramp, just using her as a warm, fleshy receptacle for his lewd male cum, but she had actually been turned on by it all! God help her, it was true! And it couldn't — mustn't — ever happen again!
Rafael sauntered back into the forced closeness of those gathered expectantly around the tiny campfire there on the beach, strutting like a barnyard rooster leaving the henhouse. Everyone's eyes shifted to his strong, domineering hulk as he moved closer, darkening the mood of both the captors and the captives like an ominous storm cloud passing over.
Emory Danfield, his eyes darting about with all the outward pitiable symptoms of a man in shock, was probably the first to notice — the husky Cuban had left his fly unbuttoned on his military-style trousers and his thick flaccid cock dangled from his loins like a white man's scalp on the belt of an Old West Apache. His flaunting was sure and deliberate, like the vicious twist of a knife blade between his victim's ribs. And its effect was nearly as deadly.
"You rotten bastard!" screamed Emory, his eyes white with horror and rage at the sight of this thing, still wet and gleaming with the moistness of his own dear wife's ravaged treasures. "I'll kill you, you swine! I'll kill you with my bare hands!" He tugged and yanked at his bonds, bouncing young Danny like a puppet on a string as he struggled with the strength of ten men to free himself of the ropes that held them both. But it was useless and Rafael and his companions only laughed at him, laughed in his face like he was some circus clown brought here for their amusement. "Let me go, damn you, and I'D kill you, I swear, I'll kill you!"
Like a switch had been thrown in his brain, Rafael's face swept instantly from sneering amusement to cold, chilling hatred. With one well-aimed swing of his foot, he crumpled the helpless Emory into a doubled knot over his bonds, planting his boot in the man's side with a thud — like a rock into mud.
"Shut your mouth or I'll kick your teeth out!" spat Rafael in a blind rage. "You, Juan, take what you want of the woman! She's still naked and waiting for you." He glared ferociously at Emory's half-lifted face as he spoke, spitting out his words carefully and deliberately, reveling in the look of helpless anguish that was all this man had left. "And take Antonio with you. Maybe she'd like the both of you!"