Robert Moore: Hard guys and hostages

"All right, you bastard," Julie hissed. "So I liked it. But that doesn't mean I didn't hate it, too."

"No, it doesn't," Max agreed, amusement heavy in his voice. "But as time goes by, sweets, and you get more used to it, the hating is going to get less and the liking is going to get more and more."

He knew how to hit below the belt, she thought with grudging admiration. If he was trying to humiliate her with his statements, he was good at it.

"Thanks a lot," she said, and started to cry.

"Oh, shit. Face it baby. We're all animals. We like to eat and we like to fuck because that's the way the nerves are strung together. It's no different with us than it would be with a couple of dogs. Better, maybe, because we're more sensitive animals than dogs are. But not really different. The sooner you face up to that the better you're going to come out of this."

"You're enjoying humiliating me. And my husband. Would an animal be able to enjoy what you're doing to him? Making him sit in there knowing what's going on between us?"

"As I said, we're more sensitive than the other animals. We enjoy some things they don't." There was a touch of anger in his voice, as though her reproachful words had stung him a bit. "Now, I'm going to enjoy something the animals don't do at all, sweety. Just to show you who's in charge of things here."

"I know who's in charge," Julie said. She felt a surge of panic. She didn't know what he had in mind, but it had to he something particularly unpleasant from her point of view, if he meant it to show her he was boss.

"I don't think you do. I think you need a little lesson, Julie. A little something to teach you not to be critical. Tell me, just how good a sex life have you had with Jim or whatever his name is?"

"I don't know what you mean. We've had a good sex life."

"I mean what have you done for him? Anything special?"

"No." She regretted the denial as soon as it was out of her mouth. It was too quick, too vehement. It told him just what he had meant to find out.

"Well, you're going to be a better wife when I get through with you, sweets, because I'm going to teach you a thing or two about pleasing a man. Farmer Brown in there ought to thank me for what I'm going to teach you."

"Please," Julie began, and then, realizing the futility of it, she asked tiredly, "what do you want me to do?"

"Haven't you guessed? You seem like a pretty hip chick. You must know about things even if you've never done them. I want you to French me, sweet-heart."

She closed her eyes a moment. This would take about everything she could muster. But, of course, she had expected it to come sooner or later. A man like Max couldn't be expected to forego something like that when he had a woman at his disposal.

"I don't know anything about doing that," she said. "You'll have to-to teach me." She almost choked on the words. Max laughed with obvious enjoyment.

"Nothing to it, baby. I can teach you everything you need to know in a couple of moments. After that it's just a matter of practice. And I'll be sure you get plenty of that." He had been leaning on one elbow while he talked to her. Now he lay back, lacing his fingers behind his head. "Scoot down there, sweety."

Julie moved reluctantly, placing herself on a level with his abdomen. The organ was already beginning to stir and stiffen. He was a bull, she thought. But she supposed most men would be, after spending years in prison. At his direction she took his prick in her hands, holding it gingerly. Touching a man's prick had never seemed particularly unpleasant when it was Jim's, and it didn't seem particularly unpleasant with Max, except that this time she was facing it, looking at it. This was something different from anything she had ever done before. Different and dirty. She uttered a short prayer for strength to do what had to be done. She felt clammy with nervous sweat.

"Now you lean down and lick the head of it," Max told her in an elaborately casual voice. "You lick it all over, ending up on the crown because that's the most sensitive part. Then you lick the shaft, too. There's no particular order of things. You just do everything you can to turn me on. You kiss my belly and my balls, you lick my crotch, you do anything you can think of. Then, when you figure you've brought me far enough alone, you move your lips over the head of my cock, back and forth, until I'm about to come. Then you take the whole thing in your mouth, or as much of it as you can, and you suck and lick until I go off. When I come, you swallow it. All of it. Understand?"

"Y-yes. I understand."

"Good. Then stop stalling."

She bent down and forced herself to touch her tongue to the tip of the organ. It was salty tasting, so much so it almost burned her tongue. She felt a gag reflex, but it wasn't bad yet. She choked it down and touched her tongue to the erect cock again. The taste didn't seem quite as bad on the second try. She tried to turn off her mind as she moved the tip of her tongue over the head of the prick, covering it with saliva. Max began to make little grunting noises, so she knew she was doing something right. Disgust welled up in her, and she had to exercise all her will power to keep from stopping. She licked and licked, until her tongue began to feel sore. She moved to the crown, as he had told her, and worked on that until she had him pitching and clenching his jaws with little fits of pleasure. Then she worked her way down the side of the shaft. She remembered what he had said, and paused to kiss his belly and his balls and lick his crotch. Tears flooded her eyes and ran down her face, but she managed to keep at what she was doing, working by touch. She couldn't see any more. She licked his crotch, tasting sweat there. The hair of his thighs scratched her face.

She detected a pitching in his belly, and she knew that he was nearing his climax. She steeled herself for the final indignity and pursed her lips, moving them over the head of his cock. She rocked her body slightly, working her lips over the head of the cock until the pitching in his belly and his cock reached the point that told her his orgasm was imminent.

The cock was large, and expanded now to its full, erect size. Julie managed to get most of it in her mouth, but it pressed against her throat, gagging her. She fought down the reflex and sucked and licked for all she was worth. The sooner she could get him to go off, she realized, the sooner it would be over. Then he came in a giant glob that almost choked her. It happened fast, and she swallowed automatically, before she had time to think. Max let out a yell and his body went through a giant spasm as he hit his climax, and then he lay still.

Julie sank from her kneeling position to her side, lying quite still. She felt emotionally drained and disgusted with what she had done. She'd had no choice, she told herself. She kept telling herself that over and over again.

"That wasn't bad," Max said. "For a first time. But there is one thing. From now on, keep your head tilted up this way as much as you can. I like to watch your face while you do it."

The phone finally rang at three in the afternoon. It was a relief to Max. Pete and Butch had begun to look at him as though they thought he was trying to pull something on them.

And things hadn't been made any easier by the little blonde. She kept begging him to let her take the gag off her husband and feed him. Finally he had slapped her face a couple of good ones, and she had fallen silent, staring at him in shocked surprise. He wondered whether she had ever been slapped in the face before. Probably not.

"Your old man's better off without food," he told her irritably. "A couple of days fasting, and he'll be less likely to try something stupid."

"When's the little sister coming?" Pete asked a dozen times during the day, and when Max told him that the blonde had told him she was coming and that was all he knew, Pete finally asked, "What if she's a dog? I just happened to think of that."