Chapter 9
David Brooks could think of only one thing, his kidnaped wife. He was with the police when George Buchanan tried to call him. Then Brooks went home to wait for the call from the kidnapers. He did not think of calling Buchanan at all. And Buchanan went after Herrera.
He was walking up the driveway toward the communist leader's big country house when he heard the throaty roar of the Mercedes engine. Buchanan stopped dead still. Lifting his rifle to his shoulder, he stood spraddle-legged, waiting. Not for long; the big car appeared around a bend in the tree-lined drive. Herrera was already accelerating recklessly.
He saw Buchanan, saw the leveled rifle, and swerved-even as the gun spat fire. The windshield starred in front of Herrera's face, all around the small hole in the glass. But Raul Herrera never felt the deadly shards of flying glass that cut his face to crimson ribbons.
Buchanan's bullet had taken him directly in the left eye and Raul Herrera was dead even before his car skittered sidewise into a tree that stove in the driver's side of the car. More blood pumped from his crushed body.
"Shit," Buchanan snarled. "In the movies the cars always burn!"
Then, knowing he was a murderer and feeling wholly justified, he trudged on up the road to Herrera's big house. He had committed a crime: murder. He'd never forget it. But- justice had been served. Courts only mucked things up; so did waiting for ambassadorial intervention. He, personally, had got the dirty bastard who had ordered the rape of his little girl.
Now he strode purposefully up onto Herrera's porch . . . the late Herrera's porch. What he wanted now was the names of Herrera's hirelings; the slime who had done the actual raping. Where would they be-they and Brooks' snooty wife, the Princess?
Feeling closer to orgasm that she ever had in her life, Claudine Brooks made her degrading choice. She could impale herself on the thick hard horse cock of the man called Horse, or she could stay hung up on the painfully anguishing brink of orgasm, as she had all her life.
Hair streaming, sticking to her with sweat, her mouth slackly open and her beautiful breasts bouncing and joggling, she crawled hurriedly up the body of the giant sprawled on his back on the rumpled old bed. He was smiling at her.
The man was so huge, his thighs so thick, that she had to strain her own to bestride them. When his upstanding club of a cock was directly beneath her loins, she squatted swiftly.
The luscious softness of her mound and its delicate pink lips rammed down, swift and straight, onto the plum-colored and lemon-sized head of his cock. Her resilient labia, glistening with the oil her cunt was secreting so copiously, were forced wide around that knobby head, then even wider around the thicker portion of his cock shank.
"Guhhhh!" she groaned, her eyes bulging, as she felt that big glans ram straight up into her, all the way into her, and bang into the spongy inner neck of her uterus.
Vibrating with passion, her vagina swelled and spread to incredible new dimensions, as long as the deepest well and hugely distended, to take all of him up into herself.
The whip-streaked white rounds of her sexy rump slapped down onto his thighs with a loud plop.
The head of his cock skidded off her cervix and found a new lodging place, hot and wet. She jerked, grinding herself down onto him as if to impale herself to the eyeteeth. That was her goal, to take him all and suck at him with her open, swollen cunt, seeking still more length of hot cock up the churning, hungry hole of her loins.
She began exerting the muscles in her thighs and calves, sliding her cunt up and down his scorching tool. Every up-and-down movement she made drew the throbbing invader up and down inside the soft-layered flesh of that humid funnel to her womb.
She bounced fiercely on his bludgeoning cock like a wild woman, like a female rapist, a beautiful blond barbarian who had somehow conquered this outsize male and was now trying to tear her pussy apart on the outsize weapon stabbing up between his legs.
All the while she never ceased moaning and gasping and grunting. She felt afire with the desire for lustful gratification that was raging in her boiling, juice-spurting cunt.
Caballo lay there happily on his back, watching her and thoroughly enjoying the sight and the sensation of this beautiful woman, once haughty and imperious and now aboriginally cock happy with an apparently insatiate lust, fucking herself on him with an absolute insanity of self-stabbing up-and-down plunges.
Edmunto and Gaston exchanged disbelieving glances. Then both of them grinned.
"Help her out, Caballo, you lazy bastard," Gaston grinned. "It isn't gentlemanly to let a woman do all the work!"
"Yeah, Caballo," Edmunto chuckled, "don't just lie there while she masturbates on you! Fuck the swivel-assed, gape-gashed bitch!"
Claudine shivered at their callous, demeaning words. But she heard her own voice, screechy and ugly: "Yes-yes, Caballo, damn you, oh, damn you, fuck me!"
He swung up one arm and slapped her left tit. After a loud, smacking sound, it was hurled against the right shapely half-globe with a new loud slap of flesh on flesh. Both satiny breasts swung and jumped wildly.
"Don't talk like that to me!" he snapped.
She moaned aloud, feeling the stinging pain and the gush of sexual pleasure. The pink hot flesh of both her nipples was swollen and bulging so colossally that she felt they must burst open and bathe the man beneath her with a gush of blood and the clear fluid of her milk ducts. The fatly engorged crowns ached ... as did her needful cunt ... as did her twitching clitoris.
"Move, you lazy bastard," she cried, bouncing, jamming her cunt full of hugely swollen cock. "Fuck me, damn you!"
"I said don't talk like that to me!" he snapped again, this time he slapped her tits harder.
Again her face contorted in pain and again both reddened jugs leaped and swung and rippled liquidly.
"Ah! Oh-oh, you low woman-hitting impotent son of a bitch!"
He reached up with both hands and grabbed her jiggly breasts. His firm, constricting grip made her groan huskily and roll her eyes as a fiery seizure of pain lanced through the shapely roundness of her taut tits.
Still riding his big cock with frantic plunges up and down her sweat-streaming body, she groaned at the pain. She clenched her teeth as she felt her inflamed, heaving breasts sending electric thrills through her entire nervous system.
They throbbed painfully and had her squirming in distress.
They throbbed sensually and had her squirming in pleasure.
She rode his crotch, cramming and pulling the entirety of his cock into her like a length of deeply pink hose. The sexy pink tips of her tits strained out above him, pulsing hotly out between his gouging fingers.
Flames of lust glowed in her eyes as his plunging pole pushed to its full slippery length up into her anxious cuntal hollow. Her flailing ass beat down on his thighs with noisy, sweat-wet smacks.
The swollen tissues of her swollen, pulsing pussy sank down over his meat and the pale nest of her vulva was pressed firmly against his own hairy crotch. She ground her loins down on his, circling his mighty cock around in herself. Convulsive twitches jerked through his well-clasped meat, and it pulsed and jumped up inside her.
With his big hairy hands wrapped around her aching breasts, he jerked her down onto him. She came with a gasping groan of shock and pain.
Gaston stood there and stared at the undulating, twin pillows of their captive's sexy butt bouncing and slithering around over Caballo's supinely sprawled body. With a sudden grin on his scarred face, Gaston grabbed a couple of pillows and tucked them in against each of her hips, over Caballo's big hairy thighs. Then he snatched up his whip. He raised it, swung it.
A terrifying jolt of pain ripped through her sexually squirming ass. It seemed to drive her down onto the cock that already probed her so deeply. Her body convulsed spasmodically and her blue eyes tried to pop from their sockets as the searing thong slithered from her.
Tightening his arms across her back, pinning her own arms to her sides, Caballo held her down on him. With short, sharp little twitches of his hips he jiggled his big prick in her.
The swollen, silky flesh of his powerful cock's swollen crown cruised maddeningly over her cervix. It nudged her with spine-tingling threats to invade her very womb. Cock was a smarting, pressurized pain deep inside her, bringing forth groans and tender sighs from her parted lips. Her cunt drooled around his prick and constant surges of pleasure made her move involuntarily on him with convulsive twitches. At the same time, the thick hairy root of his cock ground into the gristly nubbin of her clitoris.
He was up in her, balls deep, with a cock that felt like a ship's mast.
Gaston struck again. The slim black whip snaked out like thunder and lightning, crashing across her dimpled back just above the strong swell of her buttocks. "Arrrr-aghhhhh!"
Hot pain swept like a forest fire through her buttocks and pelvis. Her bottom jumped and tightened. Her cunt rammed down onto Caballo's cock so hard that new pain jarred through her; in her pelvic bone, this time, from the hardness of his.
Panting, groaning in pain and pleasure, she was so excited she thought her entire system must overload like a lightning-fed power line. Something was happening inside her. Something was happening in her belly and in the depths of her febrile, drenched and flaming cunt. Her clitoris felt big as her thumb.
This time Gaston's whip gave her its biting caress between the trembling cheeks of her ass, snapping sharply into the shiny crease.
"YAAAAAAGHHHHHH!" Her cry was hideous and her entire body convulsed. Her crotch rammed violently down onto Caballo's. New pain, like liquid heat, exploded in her crushed clitoris.
Then she screamed again. And again. Her cunt began contracting, rhythmically and repeatedly, milking at Caballo's engulfed cock.
A wave of pure ecstasy swept through her, ignited by the intensifying spasms of her erupting body.
For the first time in her life, she came.
She went rushing high on the very crest of that pounding tidal wave of unknown joy. Her muscles twitched uncontrollably. Every inch of her superb flesh twitched and jerked.
She came and came, twitching, sighing, her fingers clenching, her toes curling, her legs jerking as if she'd been stabbed. She shuddered, she moaned, she cried out, and her body tried to convulse.
It was too intense, her first orgasm, and when Caballo's big prod started pumping its hot load up into her contracting pussy she didn't even know it. She had withstood the horror of kidnap, the anguish of humiliation, the pain of whip and clawing hands, the physical and mental torment of rape in every channel of her body.
But she could not maintain consciousness in the berserk throes of her first orgasm. She fainted.
His balls gloriously emptied for the second time into this superbly curved pink and white body, Caballo lay there gasping. Then he realized his so-willing partner was much heavier, a completely inert weight on him. He shoved one hand into her hair and lifted her head. Her mouth hung open. Her face was covered with sweat and tears and the strands of wet blond hair plastered to it with sweat. Her eyes were closed.
"Christ," he muttered. "She's unconscious!"
And he rolled her unceremoniously off his sweaty body-most of the sweat having flowed down onto him from her. Then he rose from the bed.
The three men stood there and stared down at their captive. She lay on her back where Caballo had rolled her. Her legs were far apart, the wispily furred bulge of her cunt lewdly displayed. The puckered fullness of its ripely swollen lips lay well apart, obscenely displaying her sperm-inundated gash. The lips were fiercely red from their constant distention and grinding on Caballo's huge dork and his wiry black pubic hair. Out of that open-yawning mouth of her crotch came Caballo's yellow-white semen, in a steady trickle onto the old sheet.
"She came," Caballo said, with masterly understatement.
"That," Edmunto said, "is a hot woman."
"She liked me hurting her teats," Caballo nodded.
"She likes being whipped!" That from fiery-eyed Gaston.
"She likes it all," Edmunto said thoughtfully. "All of it. Taking it in her mouth excited her. Yes, Caballo, the rough attentions to her milk jugs excited and pleased her. She loved my cock up her hot little asshole." He shook his head. "She climbed on you, Caballo, to fuck herself more than willingly! That was her choice, completely her choice. And yes, the whipping you gave her pretty ass, Gaston, added to her sexual pleasure."
"I could love a woman who loved the whip," Gaston said quietly.
"Si . . . that woman, amigos, loves sex and a male who is mucho macho . . . much man! For sex, she would do anything."
Caballo was shaking his head, looking at the peacefully unconscious woman and the red marks of his fingers on her pretty titties. "Why would Brooks have a mistress, with this waiting at home?"
Edmunto sighed. "Who knows about americanos? Come-let's have a bit of wine and meat and see what's on the radio."
"What about her?" Gaston asked.
Edmunto waved a hand. "Leave her. She has been hard used. Let her rest. I am willing to grant rest to such a sexy woman while I fill my belly with red wine and red meat-food for the balls!"
The wine was good. The peppered beef was good. The radio was bad.
The news told them Senor Yuri Babaikov, the consul from the Soviet Union, wished to make it perfectly clear that he had no ties whatever with Raul Herrera, head of the Espanian Communist party. The three men stared at each other, paying no attention as the newscaster went on to say that there had been no word from the kidnapers of Senora Claudine Brooks.
Edmunto snatched up the telephone, called Herrera. The phone rang and rang. Caballo and Gaston waited, leaning anxiously forward, staring at their leader, who was calling his leader. Suddenly his eyebrows shot up and his jaw clenched. He put the phone down hurriedly and returned their stares.
"Someone answered. It was not Herrera. It was a Yanqui."
"A Yan-Brooks?"
"I don't know. The phone rang many times. Then-the voice. A norteamerica"
"Brooks," Gaston said fearfully. "Police . . .
Brooks . . . the Russian threw Herrera to the wolves . . . Herrera was not there "
"He may be on his way here," Caballo suggested.
Gaston pounced to his feet. "I do not think so! I am not waiting! We must get out of here! Suppose-suppose Herrera makes a deal-himself ... for us?"
"What about her?" Caballo said, nodding at the doorway into the room where Claudine still lay in fucked-out satiation.
Gaston shrugged. "Kill her, of course."
"You idiot," Edmunto raged, "if we are in trouble, she is our ticket out of here, to a plane. . . ."
Gaston shook his head. All of them had put on their clothing; now he buttoned his shirt. "I do not care about that. Edmunto ... I am leaving. Come."
"You are not in charge," Edmunto told him, "and I say we stay."
Gaston picked up his whip. "I am leaving, Edmunto!"
Caballo stood and placed a huge hand on a shoulder of each of the others. Gaston looked apprehensive, his knuckles white around the grip of his whip.
"It is a bad time," the huge man said. "If we must part . . . then we must part. Let him go, Edmunto. A man must do what he thinks best."
Gaston and Edmunto stared at each other. Then Edmunto glanced up at Caballo, back at Gaston.
"Adios, mio amigo," Edmunto said.
Steering Gaston with his left hand on the man's shoulder, Caballo seemed to act as escort. He walked Gaston to the door. Just outside the cabin door, Gaston turned back.
"Edmunto ... I am sorry ... go with God, Edmunto."
"Si. Vaya con Dios, Gaston," Edmunto sighed.
Frowning slightly, looking guilty, Gaston at last turned and started on. Caballo's left hand slid from his shoulder. Caballo's right hand moved swiftly up.
Caballo's knife drove into Gaston's back just above the buttocks, all the way in, to the hilt. With an unbelievably strong hand, the big man ground the knife up, gave it a swift little twist, and jerked it out.
Without a sound beyond his initial grunt as the knife severed his backbone, Gaston stood there a moment, shuddering. Then he dropped to his knees. Then he fell full length, face forward.
He heard Caballo turn and re-enter the cabin. He lay there, unable to move. He wondered what it was going to be like, the rest of his life like this, a helpless paralytic with severed nerves in his backbone.
He lay there thinking about that while he bled to death. It took perhaps twenty minutes.