Aston Marlowe - Rajah

"It's my turn, it's my turn!" she heard a strange, high-pitched voice scream suddenly, and then she was scrambling crazily down off the couch, pushing Lena out of the way like a wild woman. The dark-haired woman did not resist, but merely released the saliva-slick penis she had so masterfully been sucking and moved aside, allowing young Sharon Court to take her place between the trembling thighs of the wealthy Lord. Lena moved away, to a place where she could watch easily but would not be distracting, and her whole body quivered with excitement. Soon now, soon! Sharon Court would be theirs! An evil, triumphant smile, parted her lips, which were wet and glistening stickily with her saliva and the first sticky seminal secretions of Mark's tremendous, building orgasm. She settled back to watch.

Sharon Court crouched where Lena had been crouching, between the splayed thighs of the Lord of Marlowe Manor, and she was beyond all reason now. Nothing mattered but this huge, palpitating penis which seemed to sway before her lowered face like a cobra, it's head shining wetly from its thin sheen of lubrication, its unseeing eye staring at her like some hypnotic symbol of both horror and pleasure. She opened her mouth, licking her lips, allowing her tongue to stretch out. She had to have it, this great cock, she had to have it swallowed inside her this instant!

She leaned forward, and her tongue touched the smooth rubbery head, touched it and tasted the bittersweet pungency of his seminal fluid co-mingled with her girlfriend's saliva. Then she swirled her tongue around the tip's opening, lapping up all of the sticky emission there, and Mark groaned wildly, his fingers convulsing and clawing at her long blonde tresses at the electric touch of her moist tongue on his pulsating cock. She opened her mouth wide to accept the entire purplish-red head inside, moving her tongue in circular, progressively faster strokes, holding the base between her thumb and forefinger while she tickled his balls maddeningly with her little finger.

Then, momentarily mindless now with drug and aphrodisia and hypnotic suggestion, her body hopelessly consumed with the fires of lust, Sharon Court began to suck rhythmically up and down Mark Marlowe's burgeoning cock, swallowing more and more of his lust-hardened rod into the warm, wet cavern of her mouth, her tongue working with excruciating twirls at the almost-withdrawal from the warmth of her lips. She parted the glans eye with the tip of her probe, widening it so that more semen flowed forth against her tongue. Marlowe jerked his hips upward, driving his great cudgel deep and hard against the roof of Sharon's soft mouth. He was moaning in excited cadence now, staring down at her bobbing, twisting head, watching her large, resilient, beautifully formed tits dance and sway from her chest as she rode her mouth up and down his prick, the soft globes bouncing against his widely-splayed legs. He could see her lips clinging to the head of his cock on the upstroke of her head, and he could feel the pressure of his impending cum constricting his testicles almost painfully.

Suddenly, as she continued to suck the huge, driving cock in her mouth, Sharon Court began to experience a return of rationality. Some of the fog in her terribly drugged brain dissipated, and she realized where she was, what she was doing. And she was sick to her soul, even though she still seemed powerless to stop herself, to cast the hardened flesh from her lips and run screaming for help into the trackless moors. She was alone, she thought dimly, alone and trapped, at the mercy of two people whom she had considered friends but who had inexplicably turned on her, who were subjecting her to the most depraved of demands. Last night had not been a dream, and neither had today; she knew she had been drugged, somehow, knew it and yet still could not fight off the powerful effects. And her cunt still tingled with excitement at the lewd act she was performing.

Oh God, oh God, oh God! her tortured mind screamed. What's happening to me? And why? Oh Neal… Neal… you'll never forgive me if you find out about this! I'm a slut, a whore, to have allowed myself to become what I am at this moment, oooooohhhhhhhhh… God, darling!

But these thoughts were jumbled, strange, not at all cohesive. Even as she thought them, even as her brain reeled with torment and sickness, she continued to draw her mouth up and down the rock-hard cock of her host, Mark Marlowe, totally oblivious to her surroundings, to everything but the cock in her mouth and the carousel-like whirling of the images and fears and realizations crowding her brain.

She did not hear the library door open behind her, did not hear the soft thumping of a clubfoot as it was moved surreptitiously over the floor. She was not aware of the stunted, completely naked figure which slipped inside the room, closing the door silently behind it and then standing there staring with beady, lusting eyes at the carnal scene being enacted before the Inglenook fireplace.

The figure was Wafto, the deformed and hunch-backed dwarf.

And jutting up from his naked loins in full quivering erection was his immense thick cock — a cock which would destroy the last vestige of resistance of young Sharon Court in just a few more moments…

The dwarf was grinning obscenely, thin rivulets of drool running down along his chin to drop on his bare, shrunken chest. He stood with his spindly legs planted wide, his body tilted to counter-balance his one misshapen foot, his heavy paunched belly lying over his loins like some ugly, cream-colored slug. He was breathing hard and stared at the quivering, jerking moons of Sharon Court's helplessly flailing buttocks as she sucked Mark Marlowe's turgid cock. It gave Wafto a tremendous sense of power and satisfaction to see this, to see the proud American beauty groveling like a common whore before his master — as all women he wanted eventually did — and the still more humiliating experience of being tossed to Wafto for his own amusement.

The dwarf began to stroke his huge throbbing shaft lightly as he watched, drawing the foreskin back and forth slowly. He stared with mounting lust at the contortions, at the winking pink ring of her anus which he caught sight of now and then nestled in the moist crevice of her white, firmly rounded young buttocks. He could feel his great, hairy testicles distend and ache and his gnarled hand moved faster along his rigid penis — but not fast enough to cause him to ejaculate, for he wanted to save his hot thick sperm for the little blonde bitch. Still, he always managed to work himself up to a fever pitch by playing with himself just a little while as he watched one of the women suck his master, Lord Marlowe, or one of the other house guests, if that was how things worked out.

Sharon Court was sucking to please now, totally oblivious to anything except running her tongue wetly around the lubricated head and flicking the tip teasingly into the tiny open slit of the moist glans until she could feel it throb as though it had a heart beat of its own. Her whole mind was intent on sucking him dry, making his great penis erupt in a gushing fountain of hot male cum that would flow into her mouth and throat in a never-ending stream.

Her head bobbed up and down slavishly over the thick shaft of flesh, sucking to draw the milky seed from it until she destroyed Marlowe. Mark, having lost the suave and imperturbability of an English nobleman, groaned and twisted beneath her, raining obscenities at the top of her bobbing blonde head and watching with delight the oval shaped lips straining at his hardened cock-head as though it was a stick of candy fed teasingly to a starving child.

"God damn… God damn," he chanted, and then seeing his deformed servant at the door, he cried out, "Wafto! Just in time! I'm going… going to cum soon!"