Chapter 4
Bobby had parked the car only for a moment. The engine was still running and eighteen-year-old Amy Buchanan sat well over in the center of the front seat, wondering if it was too late for her to invite Bobby in to neck a little. After all-this was her birthday.
Then the doors opened on both sides of her, almost at once. A mustached Espanian slid under the wheel; the balding one shoved in on the other side of her. The knife he showed her, down near her thighs, closed her mouth although her eyes remained wide.
The mustached man drew away from the curb.
"Hey-stop! This car belongs to Robert Collins of the Foreign Service-and I'm George Buchanan's daughter!"
"We know. Be quiet." The knife moved up and just touched the spot where the very tip of her left breast stretched the cloth of her blouse. "Be very quiet, Amy, or we'll find out if your tit is fat enough to keep this knife out of your heart!"
The car turned a corner and rolled down the street.
"Oh, no-please! What do you want!"
"Less noise."
The car turned another corner and they were on a dark and seemingly deserted street. Halfway down it a car was parked, an old Buick. The mustached driver pulled in behind it. The driver started to get out. With terror gripping her heart, Amy opened her mouth wide to cry out.
The man beside her tickled her tit with his knife-and shoved a wadded handkerchief into her mouth.
The girl was still spluttering when the balding Espanian flung her into the back seat of the other car. The mustached man had already gotten into the back seat, and her flailing young body fetched up sharply against him. A third man was already behind the wheel, and the car was running. He gunned off.
As Amy floundered about, the mustached man grabbed her blouse-covered breast in one gloved hand. A new lurch of terror jolted through her. She had told them who she was, and they had let her know they already knew. They had meant to kidnap her, then; her specifically, the daughter of George Buchanan, manager of Vespa Copper's Espanian operation. Dad had been having all that trouble with the Communist organizers at the plant, even at the mines. There had been definite sabotage, and he had at last ordered several of the ring leaders fired!
She wasn't being kidnaped for ransom then, the shivering girl realized. This was political.
Or . . . steel fingers seemed to grip around her heart. Or . . . retaliatory!
"What-what do you want?" she managed to squeak out, twisting her breast out of Mustache's gripping fingers.- The other man- Half-bald-slapped her rump where her skirt was tightest, and she yelped and started wiggling in a new direction.
"We want you to remember one thing," she was told, in thickly accented English. A hand squeezed her upper arm, hard. He shook her. "Are you listening, gringa? Do you hear me?"
"Y-y-y-e-e-e-ess!" she assured him, the word emerging spurtily as he shook her.
The car swung sharply around a corner. She tumbled against Mustache. His hand skidded over her blouse, trying to grab her taut young breast again. The other man didn't yield his grip and a thrill of pain leaped through her arm.
"Good! Remember this, then. Remember to tell your papa that he'd better just run his copper business and stay out of politics," he said, emphasizing the word by jerking her arm, "or next time will be worse than this!"
"Ow!" Her head was pounding. She felt sweaty, and she'd never been so scared in her life. Mustache had now grasped the front of her blouse and was squeezing viciously, sending hot flashes of pain shooting into her throbbing helpless tits. Her father was old-fashioned, and she'd been brought up that way. Not even when she and Bobby were necking on the couch had his hands been so callously intimate; he knew better.
"B-but Dad isn't IN politics!" she cried miserably. She tried to twist away from Mustache. That just made both men squeeze harder, at breast and arm.
Half-bald slapped her face ringingly. "Don't be smart! He will know!"
Her cheek burned from his slap. "I know!" she whimpered. "You're communists, aren't you? You're trying to take over Dad's plant!"
"Right now," Half-bald said, "we're taking over Dad's daughter! Easy up there, Cab-" He broke off without pronouncing the driver's name. "This road's full of potholes."
"Where are you TAKING me-e?" the girl wailed.
"Just about . . . here," the driver snapped, and he slammed on the brakes. Her body was catapulted forward. She heard her blouse rip -her birthday blouse!-and then her throbbing breast was free and her head banged into the back of the front seat. She saw a sudden flaring spray of bright lights.
The door opened to her left; Amy made a wild, totally unreasoning break for the open space; Half-bald grabbed the collar of her blouse.
Her violent movement was arrested and there was new discomfort to her bosom as the blouse went very tight across the thrust of her firmly muscled young breasts. Then cloth ripped loudly again, unable to withstand his gripping hand and her forward movement. She went flying through the open doorway of the car, with every button of her blouse ripped right through their holes.
Her head butted into the belly of the mustached man, who was waiting with ready arms. He caught her with his hands ramming into both her armpits. At the same time his knee came up and sank into her belly. The impact sent pain leaping through her again and drove every gust of wind out of her.
She went to her knees, gagging. Only his hands in her fear-wet armpits kept her from falling flat.
Getting out behind her, Half-bald finished the destruction of her brand-new, imported-from-America blouse.
"Uh!" Mustache said. "Nice-stuffed brassiere on this little bird!"
"Fuck the bra," the driver's voice snarled. It was a deep voice. "Let's see her tits, Edmunto!"
"No, no, NO!" Amy cried out, struggling.
She stiffened and her eyes bulged when she felt the cold kiss of a steel blade against her back. But it was only the back of Half-bald's -Edmunto's-knife. It slid up under her bra strap. She squealed and jerked. Unwise; the strap parted and her tight-skinned pair of upward-pointing breasts bobbled free. She felt the rush of cool air over the pink tips, and they tightened instantly up into jutting buds.
Her shocked mind reeled. Her terrible shame and humiliation at the exposure of her shapely titties was as nothing compared with her fear. Hot tears rushed down her cheeks in hot rivulets.
"Hum . . . nice!" the driver commented. He reached down to surround her breasts with enormous hands.
"Ah-Ayaee! No-oh-h-oh-oh-h-h. NO!"
She squirmed frantically and new groans of humiliation and pain escaped her quavering lips. Her tits were silky-skinned clay in his hands, and he seemed bent on molding them into exotic new shapes.
Inexpressibly shocked and revolted, the young girl wriggled and squirmed in an agony of shame and hot pain.
Pulling at her tits, the huge man dragged her to her feet. He shoved her back against Edmunto, with a harsh chuckle. Edmunto grasped her at the waist, wiped his hand down over her thrusting left buttock, and shoved her to Mustache. Her tits flopped and jumped and she sobbed.
Running a hand up under her skirt, he squeezed the firm-fleshed bulge at the crotch of her panties. She squealed and flailed at him with one hand, grabbing at her rising skirt with the other. Chuckling, he shoved her back against the giant driver-who grabbed her arms with hands like steel bands.
Then, while he held her firmly back against his hard, towering body, the other two ripped and tore and dragged off her skirt and panties.
She was naked before three pairs of burning eyes, and her every muscle and nerve quivered in fearful anticipation. She tried to kick Mustache-who slapped her breasts, back and forth and back again, filling the helplessly thrusting ovals with a fiery pain, both from his stinging fingers and her tits' violent jouncing.
She sagged weakly, sobbing in helpless defeat against the driver's body-and shuddering at the feel of the great bulge of his fly against her lower back, just above the delectable morsels of her wiggling and now naked bottom.
The man with the mustache and the balding knife wielder called Edmunto stepped back. As if they had never seen a naked female before and had just discovered the nudity of the girl they had forcibly stripped, they stared.
Her shoulder-length, honey-colored hair was straggling now, and strayed across her face. Marked with glowing red fingerprints from the slaps they had received, her fully rounded breasts jiggled furiously with her panting. Their eyes ranged downward, over the soft curve of her belly and its shallow navel, to the sleek little triangular nest of her pubic hair. Hot gazes seemed to sear sturdily rounded, naked thighs and the quivering cuntal crevice at their tops.
"Like to eat that, Gast?" Edmunto smiled.
"No," Gaston said, and his voice quivered with lust. "I just want to fuck it."
"Oh, no-o," Amy moaned quietly.
"Suppose it's been fucked much?"
"Shit, it's her eighteenth birthday, stupid! Of course she's been fucked." Gaston stepped forward and extended a hand to her honey-hued pubic bush.
"No! No, I haven't!"
He sneered and she could hear his heavy breathing as he bent to her close-pressed legs. Teasing her, he bypassed the furry patch at their apex and ran his hand freely up and down her soft rounded thighs.
"Nuh-uh . . . don't . . ."
Grinning, he slid his hands over onto her mound. She went stiff and sucked up a sharp breath. The lecherous fingers stroking over the gently curling thicket of her pubic hair and over her tight-clenched labia brought shame-filled moans and pleading little gasps from her quivering lips.
She glanced wildly around. Trees. Underbrush; bushes. The parked car. Three men- she gasped. Her eyes had passed over Edmunto, and now they swerved back. The balding, dark man had brought out the semihard shank of his uncircumcised penis from his pants. With his eyes fixed on her lewdly naked young body.
Then Gaston opened his pants and took out his own cock. She stared down at it, wide-eyed, both fascinated and revolted. Her eyes rose to his face. It showed her only the need of his inflamed lust for her inexperienced young body.
She seemed to go into shock, sagging limply as the huge man holding her arms from behind lifted her. He raised her body with ease, pulling her up until she was on tiptoe. Then she grunted as her feet left the ground completely.
With his cock in one hand, fully clothed Gaston stepped close. Her breath hissed in between her teeth as she felt the heat and pressure of his swollen tool against her pubis. Still she was silent. Her breasts rushed up and down, jiggling softly with her panting lungs.
His cock separated the swollen flesh of the soft, juicy flap of her cunt and slid on in. Again her hissing intake of air; she felt her intimate flesh dilating around the redly swollen head of his penis. It pushed on, upward and in, and pierced her vaginal vestibule with its knoblike glans.
"Uh . . . oh!"
"Easy, easy, little pussy," Gaston grinned. "It only hurts for a little while." The other two men laughed at the old cliche.
"Please . . . please don't. It hurts. . . ."
"Blame it on your father," he told her and shoved.
The big man holding her loosened his grip on her arms, let her slide down until her feet smacked the ground, and then clamped her arms in his steely fingers again.
"Nnng-aaa-AAAAGHH!"
Parting hair and lips and inner membranes, one of which he burst and retired forever, he plowed deeply up her hot cleft, far far up into the long-closed furrow. The tight-drawn ring of her outer cunt slammed down onto the base of his cock. He ground up and in, jacking his knees, pressing until his hard crotch chewed into her soft, splayed nether lips. Her belly quaked, her body flexed, and her hips twisted wretchedly from side to side.
"Oh, God, tight," he announced to his wide-eyed associates.
"Mother of God," Edmunto gasped, "she was virgin! Look at the blood trickling down those thighs."
The girl seemed to have accepted the pain and the degradation, the forcible smashing of her virginal barrier and the entry of another body into her own. But now, reminded of that broken membrane and the fact that the scarlet proof of her perforated virginity was oozing down her quivering thighs, she broke into desolated tears.
Gaston laughed-and began obeying Raul Herrera's command to fuck hell out of her.
Standing before the girl the big man held so firmly, Gaston swept open her thighs and hunched his body strongly back and forth to gouge his hard cock in and out of her slender, burning slit. He twisted his body without letting his meat emerge, scouring her soft inner flesh and bringing a gasping, whimpering groan from deep in her throat.
The tight circle of the lips of her throbbing little pussy held and squeezed as he lunged into her with lust-dictated strength and ferocity.
Trapping one of her rosy nipple bumps between each thumb and forefinger, he clamped on and tormented them as he pounded her body with his.
Her back-forced bottom rubbed against the rough cloth of the pants of her captor, making her flesh smart and tingle . . . and reminded her that the hard, bulging pressure she felt was another big male demolisher, awaiting its turn.
She groaned and sobbed softly. Her pinched, constantly twisted nipples ached hotly. Her breath came in ragged gasps.
He pinched hard, gripping her squirming body by the tits and forcing her liquid cunt to engulf and enfold the churning staff he plied her with.
"Uh," he grunted, "ah-arrghhh!"
And his lurching body bathed her virginal pussy with the squirting fluid of his tensing balls.
"Ah, ah . . . good fuck," Gaston grunted throatily, and he staggered weakly back.
The girl, too, sagged. Only the powerful grip of the huge man's arms held her on her feet. Now pink-tinged semen trickled down her thighs. She felt it. It tickled.
Over her forlornly lolling head, Edmunto's eyes met the even darker ones of the man called Caballo, "Horse." Caballo looked a question at him. Edmunto grinned, wagged his big erection, and made a sweeping "After you my dear Alphonse" gesture.
Caballo released the girl's arms. With a frightened little moan of surprise, she dropped to her hands and knees. Her hair and tits swung down loosely. Grinning, Caballo gazed down at the round pink halves of her naked rump-as he opened his pants.
Out jumped enough cock to pleasure a whore of thirty years' experience. Even on a man of Caballo's gigantic proportions, it was an impressive prick. A horse cock, on a man named Horse.
"Don't move, girl," he said, in barely recognizable English. "Jou do and I weel tear off jour teets!"
She trembled beneath the words as though they had been lashes from a hard-swung whip. She was weeping softly, so that tears coursed down her cheeks and plopped softly to the ground beneath her. But there was no fight in her. She remained still, as he ordered. She knelt before him humbly, her tender young bottom upturned, her head bowed in submission.
Caballo dropped to his knees behind her.
"Uh!" Her head jerked up and she lurched slightly forward as the swollen head of his big bludgeonlike penis banged her buttocks. Then it flopped on down their crease to nuzzle the furry split of her violated vulva.
He pushed, his hands rushing out to grasp her hips.
"Guh!" The gouging, dilating ramming of that huge cudgel drove her forward. It felt as if she had been miraculously restored to maidenhood and were being opened anew.
She felt every instant and every millimeter of the slow, grinding, difficult entry of several inches more-than-normal cock length.
The tender folds of her pretty pink pussy stretched over the corona and the flaring ridge at the base of the peach-sized glans. His hands had to leap around her, big fingers digging into her waist and belly, to hold her in place.
Her thighs flexed and undulated spasmodically as she moaned. God, O God, the pressure!
The stiff, probing tool forced itself deeper into her quivering hole. It felt hot, incredibly and intensely hot and sharp edged.
It came in deeper, and deeper.
Her eyes blazed wide.
Caballo kept pushing. She had about half of it. She was going to get it all, if he had to use his big prick head to drill a hole in the bottom of her belly.
Her crotch's pulsing pink lips were stretched around the full breadth of his great steaming prick like a tight rubber band.
And the bulbous head was still pressing in, and in!
Her head rolled weakly and her belly tightened and rolled above her cannibalized cunt.
Thunk. "Vnnnnnnnghh!"
"Girl, jou've got all of the finest cock in all Espania up jour poossy! Jou're espoiled for all other men, forever!"
"Vh-gahh!"
Caballo held that enormous cunt spoiler in place. He did not move his body, other than to straighten his kneeling body.
Instead, he gathered up the American girl's thighs, clamping them up against her body so that she grunted out a strained, ugly noise. Then he began sliding her back and forth on his cock.
The swollen slippery mass of his huge dong slapped and poled in and out of her drooling, horribly stretched vagina, far into the damp softness of her.
She groaned unendingly.
His hot slippery prick head thumped jarringly into her spongy cervix and sent a jolt of mingled pleasure and pain through her feverish body.
She couldn't help it. He was stirring her innards. It hurt. It stretched her terribly. And it sent strange, pounding waves of pleasurable heat flowing throughout her despoiled doubled body.
Ambivalent feelings assailed her. If only it would end ... if only he could go on and on, without tearing her like wet paper, until this strange hard knot in her lower abdomen would go away. . . .
But he was huge, and she was thrillingly young and tight, and with a deep sigh he started blowing his warm male cream up in her fiercely expanded pussy to join Gaston's semen.
Gasping and quivering throughout his giant frame, the man called Caballo lowered Amy Buchanan to the ground with a thump. Slowly, he withdrew his drained fuck pole; it at last emerged, great even in its flaccidly flagging state, with a loud liquid plop.
"Ugh." She crouched there with her knees drawn up and her forehead on the ground between her flat-pressed palms.
Edmunto was waiting impatiently with an impatient cock. As Caballo rose, Edmunto stepped to him and motioned. The big man bent his head and Edmunto whispered in his ear. Caballo grinned and nodded.
Then he went over and sat down on the ground with his flopping peter just at the crown of her bent head. Straightening his legs out on either side of her, he slid his hands in beside her head and under her. She hardly moved when his huge hands wrapped themselves around the almost hard, dangling pendants of her tits.
"Be steel, leetle cheecken," he bade, "or I squeeze jour teets een two!"
He held her thus while Edmunto slid to his knees behind her upturned bottom. He stroked the quivering rounds of the firm cheeks, patted them, then gripped his cock.
The honey-haired hole he steered its big knob toward was well open, lips furled and bright red, and the pale yellow-white fluid of Caballo's warm cum dribbled obscenely out of it in a steady trickle. Edmunto smiled, nodded, and ran his cock straight into the long, parting slash of her open, semen-drooled gash.
"Uh." That was her only vocal reaction. Her body quivered; that was her only physical reaction.
Edmunto ran his cock easily in and out. He felt hardly any friction at all. Caballo's big horse cock and his and Gaston's combined seminal alluvium had left a warm, slushy mush of what a half-hour or so ago had been a tight-lipped, hymen-stoppered virgin's vagina.
At the same time as he pumped himself in and out of the lake of semen, he peeled open her buttocks like a great peach. The dainty little brownish-pink blossom of her anus winked at him. He grinned at it.
Then he pulled his cum-coated cock out of her flooded cuntal gap and shoved it up her ass.
The head plunged all the way inside the muscular ring.
For a moment she was quite still, as if she hadn't noticed the entry into the extreme constricting tightness of her firmly muscled young asshole.
Then she uttered a long low scream and did her best to ram her head straight through Caballo's gut.
"Hold her, Caballo!" Edmunto cried.
"She ... goes ... nowhere," Caballo said, and the girl's scream of sudden agony curdled in her throat; he crushed her breasts too tightly and agonizingly for her even to cry out.
Fighting the tight-clenched, rubbery vise of her sphincter all the way, Edmunto forced his inflexibly tumescent prick all the way up her virgin ass.
He was clever enough to hold it there awhile, knowing that no matter what she did, the grip of her protesting asshole would slacken up and the pain of his invading rod of flesh would be less and less fiery. He knew, too, that if she were any sort of woman at all, the pain would slowly meld into an inextricable marriage with pleasure.
But he would not wait for that. He had a plan for this daughter of the man who represented the strongest resistance to his master's plans for Espania. His plan did not call for her accepting her embuggerment, did not call for her liking her sodomizing, but for her to love being ass-fucked!
Wrapping his hands around her hips, he began running his fingers gently up and down the wide-forced furrow of her vulva. His fingers sloshed through the semen of her two previous rapists, smeared it up over the top of her cunt split and onto her lower belly. He matted her soft tan pubic hair with it, coated her clitoris.
She sighed, moaned when he slid his prick out until her anal band housed only its swollen head, sighed again when he strained again to toy with her hot, wide open sheath and run a fingertip gently over her clitoris.
Again he sank his cock up her rectum, and again he paused to soothe her twitching, slowly erecting bud of sensual feeling.
Again he withdrew the tumid shaft, and again he held it just inside her anus while he slithered his fingers down between her puffy, reddened cunt lips and drew them up, sperm smeared, to caress her slit.
Now Caballo was doing his part. His big fingers had become gentle on her breasts, smoothing, soothing, caressing, gently drawing their nipples downward.
The girl's nipples lengthened. Her clitoral bud rose.
Actually straining to reach around while continuing to move his pelvis, Edmunto began moving his slick hard tool in and out of the grippingly slender track of her rectum. His fingers grew busier on her clit and Caballo's drew, tugging gently, at her nipples and petted the entire rounded surfaces of her down-swinging tits.
Smoother and smoother, easier and easier became the passage of Edmunto's gliding penis in and out of the kneeling girl's relaxing asshole.
The kneeling victim now shivered and made distinctly unvictimlike noises. Little moaning sighs escaped her lips; they were not of pain. Quivers ran through and through her bowed form; they were not of fear. Little warm tingles zipped around in her vagina, through her hanging, fondled knockers and into her belly; they were not of pain or fear either.
The clever manipulations of her clit, combined with the stroking of her now-relaxed ass, filled her with the widening glow of rapture. It built and built in her. She began to tighten the long oval buns of her pierced backside.
Her body began moving backward and forward as well, sliding the long, slippery, warm channel of her asshole to and fro along his cock.
It sawed in, and each deep glide was a new stroke of a poker, stoking up her inner fires.
They flared, blazed up, and she moaned and jerked out her orgasm.
She had never known anything like it. The exquisite splendor of her rolling orgasm raised her to heights of sexual satiation she had not dreamed existed. She went utterly limp and hardly noticed as a torrent of hot sperm gushed up into her bowels.
Smiling, gasping in postorgasmic weakness, he pulled his slimy, flaccid prick out of her ass. She quivered.
She was limp when they loaded her back into the car.
She was only just coming to her senses when they stopped just beside New Madrid's largest cemetery and pushed her out.
Edmunto was laughing softly.
"Oh, that little Yanqui bitch is going to beg to have her sweet little ass fucked!" He slapped his leg.
"I hope we get another assignment like this," Caballo said in his deep voice. "Why are you so quiet, Gaston?"
Gaston sighed. "I was just thinking. You know who I'd rather have on a job like this than even that squirmy little virgin?"
"No, who?" Edmunto asked.
"Virgin Mary," Caballo suggested, chuckling.
Gaston didn't laugh. "The Princess!"
"Ha! Which princess?"
"Senora David Brooks-Claudine!"
The others laughed more loudly. Then, slowly, they sobered. They thought about that. It was a sobering thought. Also an erecting one. They rode on, wishing they hadn't dumped Amy Buchanan out so soon . . . but thinking of Claudine Brooks.