Chapter 10

With Rick gone, Rhonda decided to have dinner by herself in their suite. The meal was brought up by a little Irish maid. She ate the solitary meal and then changed into a long powder blue nylon gown and blue laced peignoir. The feeling of the material against her skin was wickedly exciting and she wished Rick was there.

There was a knock at the door later as she had started writing cards. "Come in," she said, thinking it was the maid returning for the dishes.

"Good evening, my dear," Lord Folsome said, entering and closing the door. He stood there for a moment staring appreciatively at her gown, then carried a large manila envelope to the table in front of the fireplace. She felt the first notes of uneasiness. Lord Folsome had entered as if he owned the place. He had looked at her in an un-mistakenly superior manner.

Lord Folsome moved over right next to her writing table and fastened his eyes onto her gown which was opened enough to see the first proud swelling of her breasts. Blushing furiously, she nervously put her hand up there and fumbled.

"That really isn't necessary, my dear, you have charming breasts. There's no need to hide them."

"Lord Folsome, please!" Rhonda was shocked.

"I think you'd better leave. My husband isn't here."

"I have no intention of leaving until I get what I came for." Suddenly Rhonda was frightened, really frightened. He must be a madman. He was looking in open lust at her breasts and pelvic area. "I ... I ... you really must go, Lord Folsome." She backed away from him but couldn't escape his eyes on her body.

"You are quite beautiful, my dear," he said.

"Please leave."

His face suddenly became contorted and his voice tight with anger. "Don't be impertinent! I'll not go until I get what I came after!"

Rhonda walked to the door and opened it. "Get out," she said trying to remain composed.

"Close the door," he demanded.

"Get out or I shall scream."

"Do as you wish but it will be to no avail. We are alone in the castle. The servants are gone."

Feeling a combination of embarrassment, anger and fear, Rhonda screamed and then yelled. The echoes resounded throughout the deserted hallways. Her own voice was mocking her.

"Now that we have that silly bit of amateur theatrics out of our system, I want to show you something. Take a look at the little gift I've brought you. There on the table, in the envelope."

"I'm not leaving this door. You make a move toward me and I'll run."

"I have no doubt that you could out run me. It would be most foolish however. Take a look in the envelope. I give you my word that I will not move from this spot."

Anything to get rid of this maniac, Rhonda thought. She moved toward the table watching him closely. He merely smiled in amusement. He seemed to be holding his breathe and his eyes seemed huge as he watched her unfasten the clasp on the envelope.

She withdraw the contents. She could tell by the feel that they were photographs. She made one rapid glance down at the top one and then the room began to swirl around her. She heard his satanic laughter burst out and he sat down in the chair, laughing uproariously at her stunned and disbelieving expression.

Rhonda gazed down in horrified disblief. It was a photograph of herself but not as she saw herself each morning in the mirror. Rather, it was a photograph of a totally alien her-wantonly smiling as she sucked away on Lord Folsome's sausage like cock. Her lips were grotesquely pouting around the instrument, but it was her expression that was the most astonishing thing about the picture. It was obvious to anyone that she was blissfully and erotically enjoying what she was doing. Her hands were clearly shown; one was cradling his testicles as though she were weighing them, the other had two fingers wormed deep into his rectum.

Rhonda's legs failed her. She steadied herself on the back of a chair and then sank slowly onto it. She continued to stare at the picture. Finally she closed her eyes and moaned, "Oh, my God!"

Lord Folsome continued to cackle. He choked, then coughed and wheezed. "You might like to know, my dear, that no one had to tell you a thing.

I have never known a more apt pupil, one who picked it up so rapidly. You were born to bring pleasure to a man ... and you don't have the intelligence to realize it. Pure womanly instincts." He signed. "But really, you should look at the others,"

Almost wishing that God would strike her blind, Rhonda turned to the next photograph. She blinked and the hot tears began streaming down her face. This picture showed her with her legs spread wide apart and Lord Folsome's head buried in her vaginal crevice. Her tongue was hanging laxly out of the corner of her mouth and her eyes were rolled back in her head. Shown clearly were her taut stomach muscles and flexed buttocks, and her fingernails clawing a bloody trail of lust down his back. Her face was smeared with what could only be cum; it glistened all over her neck, and a huge puddle of it could be seen alongside her shoulders on the rumpled sheet. As she gazed through watery eyes at the picture it was all coming back to her now. The dream! It hadn't been a dream, after all. She remembered the moment; in the dream it had been so wonderful to have her husband doing that to her.

She realized that Lord Folsome had become silent. He merely stared at her, and his expression was once again one of anger and something else.

He didn't make the command, but she turned to the next photograph ... and already sure of what she would see. It was a close-up of Lord Folsome's cock in the process of being jammed into her vagina. What made the picture so horrible again was the sheer expression of delight and impatient lust on her face. She thought dully: it didn't hurt at all when he did that; it was wonderful. I remember the sensation now. Beautiful. But I thought it was my husband making love to me....not someone using me as a ploy, an insensitive whore. She suddenly realized that no one seeing the photograph would ever think of her as being an "insensitive whore". A "whore" yes. "Insensitive," never! Not with that gloating sensual expression on her face, not with those fingernails digging deeply into his driving buttocks. No, if anything, she was a very sensitive whore, one who was enjoying the fucking of her life.

The next, as she was pretty sure it would, showed Monroe with his stubby little dick in the process of sodomizing her. Again the photographer had masterfully focused on her expression. She was the personification of wantonness. The hang of the taut breasts like ripe fruit about to drop, the tendons of her neck, the muscles of her inner thighs, the deep indentation created by the eager flexing of the anal muscles ... all were clear indications that she was within seconds of obtaining an orgasm.

It was all too much to bear, much less understand. Her dignity crushed, sobs racked her body and each breath was a shuddering one. She had never been so mortified, so humiliated, so ashamed in her life. The pictures, no matter how they had come to be taken, gave Rhonda an insight to that darker being within her whose existence she had never known or even suspected.

Lord Folsome was no longer amused; he stalk-ed angrily toward the door and closed it. He stood there impatiently rocking back and forth glaring at her. "Whimper all you want, slut. Cry your heart out. It makes no difference. Your precious husband shall see these when he rteurns from the hunt tonight. And in tomorrow's post, an envelope identical to this one will be transmitted to your mother, to your local police authorities and to...." He took his hand from behind his back and held out Rhonda's green adress book. He grinned evilly, " ... and to every name in this book."

She screamed and leapt toward him; she was rewarded by a vicious backhand in the face that sent her sprawling to the rug. In falling, her peignior ripped, her gown slithered up to her waist, where the full ripeness of her upper thighs and buttocks were fully visible to Lord Folsome's cruelly glinting eyes. "You Beast you ... you filthy beast," she sobbed.

"My dear young lady. These photographs are not of a 'filthy beast' ... but of a common street whore-sucking, being sucked, being, if you will pardon the Saxon expression, 'fucked' ... and being sodomized. Oh, how she loves it all. Note the enjoyment upon her face. How amusing it will be when your mother and all of your little friends and relatives see what a happy honeymoon you've enjoyed."

"What is it you want?" she gasped, feeling horror and sickness suddenly wash over her like an unrelenting tide of despair.

"That's hardly the question you want to ask, is it? What you really want to know is: How do I get those photographs back?"

Rhonda looked up from the floor. The bulge was growing in his trousers as he gazed at her uncovered body. She made a futile attempt to pull her gown down. A part of her mind was screaming like a frightened, caged animal, " ... Help me, please, someone ... help me." Yet she knew there was no one to help. No help from the local police and certainly none from Rick. If Rick ever saw the pictures, he would leave her in an instant. With a sudden caving in of her spirit, she asked barely audibly, "What do ... I have to do ... to get them back?"

Lord Folsome smiled. "Excellent, my dear. You are, as I said before, a quick study, a fast learner." He picked up the envelope and withdrew the first one. He rolled his eyes theatrically. "Oh, yes! I remember it well. It was delightful; You showed such tremendous talent for it." He looked as if he were thinking, then nodded his head. "That's it! That seems fair enough. For each photographic scene you recreate I shall return a picture."

As she realized what he was asking, Rhonda suddenly felt a painful spasm in her stomach; she was sure she was going to vomit. Oh God! How could any human so degrade another, so debase another as he was trying to do to her. She wouldn't do it ... she couldn't do it. She shook her head and mumbled, "I won't." Then she looked up in tearful pleading, "Please, Lord Folsome. Please, please have mercy-pity. Give me the photographs. Please!" The last was a half hysterical scream.

"Of course, my child. They shall be returned to you ... upon my word as a gentleman ... just as soon as you fulfill the conditions of the contract."

Sobbing incoherently, Rhonda shook her head violently from side to side, "I can't. I just can't do that!"

Lord Folsome clapped his hands together in dismissal. "Then we really have nothing more to discuss. The photographs will be mailed tomorrow." He turned to the door.

"Please. Have pity." Rhonda screamed.

Lord Folsome did not answer. He opened the door and stood in the archway. "Good evening, Madam. And sweet dreams." He started to close the door.

"No," she shouted in desperation and fear. "No ... come back." Her body was wracked with shuddering sobs of distress as she buried her face in her hands.

"You'll do it?" Lord Folsome's voice was cold, inflexible.

"Oh, God forgive me ... yes!" she screamed. "Yes ... you, you beast ... I'll do it!"

Lord Folsome closed the door behind him. His face was red in rage and his voice tight in poorly-suppressed fury. "Watch your language, slut, or I shall have second thoughts about my generosity. As it is, you will pay a little extra for your persistent use of that odious term."

Abjectly, knowing she must be on his good side to get the photographs, she said, "I'm sorry."

"That's better. Immensely better. Now, my dear, take your hands away from your pretty little face ... now!" The last word cracked like a whip and Rhonda's body jumped as though struck by a whip.

Lord Folsome handed down photograph number one. "Shall we begin? Recreate this ... and you may have the picture to do as you wish. Burn it, tear it, or keep it among your treasured souvenirs. Look at it closely."

"Oh God," she moaned in shame and distress.

"Take off your clothes." It was an order, there could be no disobedience. She rose, silent, unable to speak for the humiliation she felt. The man's eyes burned huge holes in her breasts and pelvic area. When she hesitated, hoping desperately that he would change his mind, that this was really a monstrous nightmare from which she would soon awaken, Lord Folsome narrowed his eyes in warning. Quickly then, she took off the peignior. Then, eyes closed and unable to look at him, she slowly lifted the gown over her head to stand naked and trembling abjectly before him.

"Beautiful, just beautiful. Now stand there until I get my clothes off." For the first time the old man began showing real signs of impatience. She watched him horrified as he removed his coat, tie, shirt and undershirt. And then he unbuttoned his trousers and dropped his pants and shorts to the floor. A moment later, he stood before her with only his shoes, socks and garters on. His huge white erection grew like a poisonous toadstool in the grey tundra of his pubic hair. "All right, my dear. Picture number one: on your hands and knees ... crawl to me."

It was going to be even worse that she thought. She kept saying over and over again in her mind, "This can't be happening to me; this can't be happening to me." Lord Folsome was a hideous creature seen in some nightmare as he leered down at her with those horribly hot and unbending eyes. She would die before she did this. "No ... I can't." She clenched her eyes tightly shut as if she could erase the scene from memory and make it cease to exist.

"If I'm forced to put my clothes on I swear to you that nothing-absolutely nothing you could offer, not matter how far you crawl, could obtain the release of these photographs. Do you quite understand?"

"Please?" she pleaded, looking at him once more in supplication. "Please...."

Lord Folsome merely stroked his waiting cock in answer. "I'm waiting. On your hands and knees. Quickly!"

It was hopeless, she knew it was hopeless. All was lost. It didn't matter. She would die of humiliation if the photos were released; she would die of humiliation if she were to undergo the cruel debasement in order to retrieve them. It didn't matter except the pictures would kill Rick's love for her, would destroy her mother, would be traumatic for all her friends receiving copies. This way only she would be hurt. Slowly she sank to her knees and began crawling like a a wounded animal towards his naked groin.

Now all she could think about was getting the execution of her sole indignity as rapidly as possible over with. Lord Folsome misunderstood her suddenly speeded up crawl. "Don't be so eager, my dear. You're acting as hungry as you were last night." He laughed and backed away when she reached him. She crawled forward two more paces, then reached up for his cock. He backed away and laughed at her. "Come on," he coaxed and moved back until his hips were against the bed. He sat down and spread his legs. Rhonda could see his testicles dangling like ripe, flesh colored fruit above the brown puckered opening of his anus. His cock stuck up in the air at an outrageous angle, and occasionally it throbbed and jerked spasmodically.

Rhonda crawled up on the platform and to the bedside, no longer conscious of moving or acting. She was merely an automated robot incapable of independent action or thought.

"Now, my dear, for the first photograph...."

She shuddered in revulsion as she bent forward to pay unwilling homage to the waving purple and white penis. She could see angry red veins running up its white and blue trunk and the throbbing purple hooded head already seeping a white thick fluid. His balls were high and tight now in his purple scrotum; his gray pubic hair lay like white foliage struck down by hail. Inside her mind a voice kept crying out. "Ask him once again."; but she refused to heed it, knowing instinctively that it would be useless. Besides, she knew her abject begging and pleading only added to his sadistic enjoyment. She closed her eyes and swallowed, muttering a silent prayer, "Rick ... forgive me. Please forgive me, darling, for what I'm about to do."

Her lips closed wetly about the smooth rubbery head. Lord Folsome groaned. His eyes were bulging in unconcealed lust as he stared down at the top of her blonde young head. The knob of his cock tasted like sweet soap, the viscous fluid seeping from the glans was slightly saline with a faint odor. He moved the rod in her mouth. "Suck a little, nibble a little, my dear."

"I was dreaming ... I am dreaming ... I am dreaming," Rhonda said to herself with each thrust of the hated cock in and out of her mouth. She had dreamed of doing this last night; it had been terribly exciting, terribly enjoyable ... but that had been with her husband! She felt nothing now but humiliation and despair. She followed his directions, mindlessly licking and nibbling and tongue teasing as he ordered her. She was sure that it would never end, but it did with Lord Folsome saying, "That's enough for now."

She removed her mouth from his cock. She kneeled there, head down in subjugation waiting for whatever cruelty was to come next.

"Get on the bed," Lord Folsome said. Spiritlessly, Rhonda did as instructed. She lay there, legs slightly apart, staring up at the ceiling-not making any effort to cover her body. Lord Folsome gazed speculatively down at her. "You aren't showing nearly enough enthusiasm, my dear. Perhaps we should turn that little furnace of yours up higher." He walked away from the bed and came back a moment later with the second photograph. He held it before her eyes. "Shall we try for number two?" When Rhonda did not answer, he slapped her with the picture. The sharp edge of the paper cut the underside of her chin, drawing a thin line of blood. "Answer me," he snarled.

"Yes...."

"Yes, what, you slut?"

"Yes. Let us do number two."

"There is a vulgarism-American, I believe-called 'eating pussy'. Some of our lesser educated Englishmen call it cunt scouring. Now you must ask me in a nice way using either of those vulgarisms."

Rhonda closed her eyes and sighed. "I want you to eat pussy."

"Whose?"

"Mine."

"Say it then."

She sighed again and said, without any inflection at all, "I want you to eat my pussy."

"Please?"

"Please...."

Rhonda was aware that her legs were being spread apart. She flinched in spite of herself, when his finger parted the softness of her pubic hair and touched her vaginal lips. She remembered the dream last night! Presumably Rick had been doing this to her. It had been wildly exciting and erotic beyond description. But now, she felt nothing. Only a deadness down there as he began his perverted licking.

The numbness lasted until he reached the clitoris; he put his lips on it and began sucking as though it were a very small penis. Rhonda's body stiffened as she felt the unwelcome sensations return down there. Lord Folsome chuckled as he sensed she had finally begun to come to life. Next she felt his tongue jab into her vagina; it was like an electrical cattle prod placed in there. She jumped, trying to pull herself away from him.

Then the slow, rhythmic, tantalizing licking began again. She flexed the muscles along her inner thighs attempting to make the unwanted feeling of pleasure go away but it only added to her enjoyment. With the tensing of her thighs, Lord Folsome went back to lick again at the tiny, suddenly pulsating clitoris.

Now Rhonda was beginning to moan and sob as she realized what these sensations implied. No, this couldn't be happening to her. It mustn't happen! The nerve endings down there were betraying her. She couldn't permit this to feel pleasurable; she couldn't. But, inspite of her revulsion at the act, her abdomen rose and fell with increasing rapidity as the old man began taking long licking strokes with his tongue and using his nose to buffet the clitoris while his chin whiskers were scraping against her tightly clenched anus. She knew she was beginning to secrete lubricants and liquids from glands that were taking notice of the loving attention being showered on them. It wasn't until she discovered her pelvis was beginning to grind lewdly into the old man's sardonically smiling face that she had realized that she had lost this one particular battle. Her shamelessly aroused body was moving independently now. She hadn't the least control over it any longer. His hot hungry mouth enclosed the entire vaginal labia area and be began sucking ferociously at it. The exquisite sensation shot across her loins into the nerve endings at the mouth of her womb. His drooling mouth kept the labia tightly clamped, his tongue pressured its way through the compressed vaginal lips, and Rhonda almost lost her mind attempting to control her reactions.

Finally-and she knew it the second that it happened-she reached the point of no return. She was going to have a climax. She fought it, screamed against it in her mind, but muscles and nerves all rebelled against the discipline-seeking instead the sweet release. Then her pelvis was jerking and her hands were trying to push the old man's face up all the way into her vagina, and a voice she had never heard before was screeching from her throat, "I'm cumming. Oh God, lick harder ... faster ... now ... now! ... Aieee."

She was almost unconscious from the combination of shame and satiation when Lord Folsome raised her knees to her chest. Abruptly she felt his penis pressing against her open, unprotected vagina.

"Now, number three," he said.

"No ... you'll hurt me," she moaned but it was already too late. She tried to scissor her legs but the movement caused him to slip forward and his long hard cock slid effortlessly into the mouth of her cervix. "Gaaagh," she screamed. God, it was excrutiating. It was a white hot poker plunged into her. Worse, far worse, more agonizing than even the first night with Rick. That pain, at least, had come from love-this came from torture and debasement and rape.

Lord Folsome smiled down at her. "Don't put on an act, my dear." He reached over to the bedside table and pulled down the photograph. The movement hurt her and she moaned in pain. "See what immense pleasure you are getting out of me.

That is the real you. You're only acting right now," he said.

Rhonda's eyes were blinded to the picture; the reality of the moment was that she was in pain from sexual intercourse and his huge penis. He moved it out a bit; the withdrawal motion was agonizing. He pushed it in to its utmost depth again. "Ooooohhh, God! No, please. You're hurting me. Please, I'll do anything but not this ... you're killing me." A sudden jab was the only answer to her pitiful plea. She was suddenly screaming at the top of her voice as he began viciously jabbing into her; she jerked her eyes open to see the old man's cruel sadistic grin above her. He was killing her; he wanted to hear her scream and moan and he was enjoying every second of it.

Her vagina felt as though it had shattered and was bleeding from a thousand different places. His cock lay throbbing sunk deep in her belly, filling every part of her insides. There wasn't a single fleshy ridge on the prick that she could not feel as it pressed tight against the soft flesh of her cunt. She lay immobile, afraid to move because of the pain each movement brought.

Lord Folsome grinned down at her. He flexed his cock inside her belly and she felt it jerk up against the cervix. She groaned and her face was twisted in pain.

Lord Folsome merely smiled more sadistically. He flexed it again.

She kept her stomach muscles as tight as possible hoping she would create an intolerable pressure for him down there. Slowly he pulled his hardened penis from her tight vaginal sheath until it was about half out, then slowly pushed it in again.

"Ooooohhhh please ... you're hurting me...." She said it automatically and with a sudden jolt to her brain she realized that she was screaming a lie. It was not painful. Furthermore she knew he was aware of her new knowledge.

"Now you must ask me to fuck you."

"No ... I won't. I can't. Please don't. Do what you have to do and get it over with, but please don't ask me to degrade myself like that!"

Lord Folsome continued to move his cock back and forth slowly. Rhonda was aware that her vagina was making a wet, lewd sucking noise, as it slipped moistly in and out of her vagina. This too suddenly began to add to the forbidden excitement she felt coursing through her betraying body.

"You must beg," he said, insistently, "that is part of the contract. After all, each time you say 'please stop', you're begging. So beg me to fuck you." He shoved his prick forward and a shock of unwanted pleasure shot through her womb.

"Oooohhh, no! Please no." That, of course, would be the final straw-the ultimate in humiliation. She had maintained a tiny shred of pride because she knew she was suffering all this for Rick and her mother's sake. But to be forced to beg? That would be the end of her forever as a decent person. He had taken her self-respect, her fidelity to her husband ... taken everything. She couldn't, she wouldn't give him the ultimate triumph of hearing her beg for him to force these horribly depraved indignities on her helpless body!

Lord Folsome stopped moving his penis half in, half out of her cunt. "Very well," he said. "A woman has other ways of begging. We shall see."

Rhonda didn't understand what he was talking about, and she didn't waste time trying to figure it out because her mind was elsewhere.

When his penis twitched again she was astonished to find that her own inner muscles had flexed in involuntary response bringing a smile of delight to him. She fought to keep from doing it again. But it happened again, and there was a groan from him. It happened again and again ... and again until it seemed that she was a machine.

He was slowly rocking between her thighs and she could feel the narrow passageway being widened with each short stroke. The friction had caused her vagina to run from agony to anticipation. The hot glow was being pushed inside. A strange and wonderful glow. She fought that too. She fought her breathing. The perspiration popped out on her forehead as she fought a losing battle with her pelvis after discovering it shamelessly going down to meet the rising thrust of his cock. And then, the battle was over. Rhonda's body asserted its independence. The lewd flames of lust poured through her veins and her heart sped up in an effort to get the hot blood into every-part of her body. Her pelvis was unleashing itself. It moved on its own on the white rod of hardened flesh. The two things moved in harmony and excitement. Her inner muscles twitched against massaging and milking the cock for its entire length.

Her body writhed beneath him and she made low moans of passionate encouragement with each thrust of his prick. Her breath panted and her legs on either side of his driving hips were moving in lewd circles. Suddenly, there was no further thought of anything but that she was cumming again ... and she wanted it and she was dose, close, close. Then, he stopped.

She couldn't believe it and he grinned down at her. "You do like to be fucked, don't you my dear?"

She stared at him with hatred and her nostrils quivered. He flexed his cock deep inside her and she mewled.

"You like to be fucked?" He flexed it twice.

"Oh God, help me, yes ... yes!" she screamed, and the cry came from the deepest part of her being. "Fuck me!"

"All right, my dear, but we have a change in plan ... a much more enjoyable way of you reaching your little climax. You'll get all the photos as long as you follow directions.

"I'll do anything," she screamed through gritted teeth. She moved her pelvis up and down and she wanted to bring herself to final fruition.

"I'm weary ... I'll lie on the bottom and you shall be on top," Lord Folsome said. Clasping her buttocks tightly in each hand, he rolled over carrying her with him. His cock stayed deeply buried in her wildly stretched vagina. She propped her knees into the mattress with his legs between her. He pulled her buttocks down and then pushed her back up...."That's the way it's done," he said.

She rode his prick up and down and around and around. She moaned in wild delight as she discovered the extra friction of this new position. It was the most exciting thing she had ever felt in her life. She hated herself for what she was doing but knew that she couldn't stop. She was a helpless slave even though she was on top and free to run away. The pictures were unimportant ... the cock the thing!

She was moaning incoherencies now and coming closer and closer as Lord Folsome lay back with his arms behind his head, smiling. Then Lord Folsome's arms locked her in position and she was incapable of moving. She stared at him wondering if he was coming or had just gone mad. Instead he was still smiling. She wiggled her ass in an effort to loose herself from his arms....He shook his head, "Relax my dear, here's where you get all the pictures. Just lie still and relax for a minute ... don't move." Rhonda felt obscene with her buttocks waving nakedly in the air that way but she did as instructed.

Suddenly she felt a strange finger rubbing from her vagina to her anus. She screamed and twisted around, then moaned in terror when she saw Monroe beside the bed. He was stark naked ... his stubby cock was a full erection.

"Good evening, Rhonda," Monroe said formally and pressured his finger into her tight anal ring. "Oh, no ... please, no...." Rhonda panted...."You can't, it isn't right...." She jerked and tried to rise.

"Hold her," Monroe ordered and she felt Lord Folsome's arms lock like a vise around her waist.

Rhonda screamed again, this time in pain, as the finger moved all the way in to its knuckle. She groaned as he began sawing it back and forth. Rhonda attempted to get away from it by pressing down. This only served to skewer her cunt more deeply on Lord Folsome's cock coming up from below.

The pain in her anus and rectum was intense. She sdayed her legs to avoid the pain and pressure. Monroe climbed atop the bed. He peeled open her soft white buttocks and clamped his hands on her hips. Then he pressed forward with his cock. She fought it but was held immovable by the arms of Lord Folsome and Monroe's prick. His prick slipped easily into the already stretched anal opening; he kept right on going until his balls slapped her buttocks "Ghhhhgggggghhhh," she screamed.

Monroe began moving tentatively, "Gentle motions-those count in a young asshole," he said philosophically.

Her asshole was filled ... her cunt was filled. There was only a thin membrane separating the two pricks, and they rubbed and bumped against each other like hungry sharks in the aquarium.

It was not long before the two men began buffeting her between them ... She had never felt so helpless and naked before. Lord Folsoma was obviously colse to coming or close to a heart attack ... and Rhonda could feel the pain being replaced by a kind of pleasure. Her body had no recourse but to accept. And once again she lost control of her body! She could feel her orgasm coming back ... then with frightening suddenness she was there! It was she who took control from the two men ... it was she who began frantically bucking against them urging them on to deeper thrusts. She reared her ass in the air to get full benefit of Monroe's cock and then fell heavily and hard onto Folsome's still striving cock. "Fuck me," she screamed, "Fucker harder ... harder ... Oh God, fuck me harder!"

And it was her soprano scream that started the sweet upheaval first in her cunt, then seconds later in her rectum, then in her clitoris. She came in all three places and she continued to come for as long as the men would have her until they fell from her in satiated weariness.

When it was over she lay staring toward the ceiling ... she felt degraded and used. And overall was the stunning fact that she had enjoyed it all ... not the debasement but the sheer sex ... that she had enjoyed thoroughly! And then she wept....