Helena Robertson - Mousse

The blows were falling at a more rapid pace. The monk was aiming at the point where the thighs and the buttocks join. The tip of the lashes crashed in the middle of the triangle of flesh and delicate hair.

Just a few more blows and the pain in Monique's body became unbearable. She could feel the lash tips, like needles, going in her skin. Sometimes a lash would insinuate between the curled lips of her cunt and would stroke the damp flesh where it was the most sensitive. Monique was turning her bottom in all directions, trying to escape the torture. She was writhing voluptuously in the air. The coming pleasure made blood run faster in her veins, and beat wildly at her temples. She gnashed her teeth. Her fingers rasped on the velvet of the stool. Sylvie guessed that her orgasm was coming closer. She gave the monk a signal and he accelerated the rhythm. He aimed particularly at the joint between the thighs and the buttocks. It was like a fast, rough beat on the sex, but how exciting a caress it was. Monique opened and closed her thighs rapidly, thrusting first her bottom, then her cunt upward. But every time that the sex appeared the lashes caressed it deeply and sent an even more intense pain through her whole body.

Bending over that bottom, the men were watching this strange masturbation, waiting for the imminent spasm. It soon came, while Monique, her head dug between Sylvie's breasts, was sobbing, hiccuping, gasping, half suffering, half sunk in pleasure. Then her whole body was racked with a spasm. She bent on her knees, her legs shivered; four times the bottom came to meet the lashes that four times crashed vigorously on her sex from behind. Then her whole body tumbled down, kneeling at Sylvie's feet while from Monique's throat came a long, inarticulated moan.

They let the young girl recover consciousness while Sylvie was slowly undressing her. They offered her a glass of liquor and she drank it, feeling better.

Monique, naked except for her stockings, her shoes, and her little cap, was standing in front of the men, letting them admire her perfect body.

Caresses of the hands, suckings at her breasts-everything happened as in a dream. Her hands felt huge and warm phalluses pressing against her thighs. She grabbed between her fingers the hardened flesh. She caressed the long and shivering tools whose size was beginning to scare her.

But Sylvie was reassuring her, while softly biting at her little ears, and at the nape of her neck:

“All that is for you darling. In a little while, all that will be in your guts, for you alone… for you to be happy…”

And Monique, excited by the suction on her breasts, indulged in masturbating the erect rods.

Soon they turned her over on the couch. The monk, kneeling between her thighs put his mouth on her sex and a slow and delicate sucking soon had her sighing deeply. Two other mouths were on her large breasts, the hands running up and down her flat belly, over her hips, on her waist. Sylvie squatted above her. She felt the damp sex over her face and put her lips on that gaping mouth, sucked at the erected clitoris and abandoned herself, unconscious of what was happening around her. She sucked, licked, worshipped her friend's cunt with an increasing fervor. Her hands were slowly caressing the shivering rods that trembled under her fingers, and suddenly the orgasm came-as violent for Monique as for Sylvie. The two bodies, intoxicated with voluptuousness, tumbled over each other. And then came the rattle, and Monique's burning breath that plunged Sylvie into an abyss of pleasure.

Monique, quite exhausted, soon recovered all her spirits under the men's caresses. She found herself kneeling by the side of the sofa her bottoms up, offering the sight of her sex and of her anus to the perverted looks of the males. Resting on her elbows she was looking at the little box that Sylvie was holding in front of her, and stared at the three dildoes, shining with vaseline.

“Which one first, my darling?”

Still dizzy from all the pleasures she had just experienced, Monique chose the smallest. However it was approximately the size of a normal phallus, but the head was not as big as in real life, and more olive shaped. Monique guessed that the monk was kneeling behind her and that the others were staring at the displayed flesh. She felt the contact of the olive on her puckered little mouth, and the anus contracting, in spite of her desire for penetration. And immediately the rod was absorbed and disappeared completely in her, up to where the man's fingers were holding it. She felt it in her and a strangely sweet sensation filled her most intimate parts. She was excited by that forging tool being in her, and she could not help imagining her opened flesh with the extremity pointing out of it.

Sylvie's hand was already grabbing the second instrument. This one was bigger, and its head was rounder. It disappeared from Monique's sight and she did not even realize that the other one was removed from her slimy insides.

“No, no… I cannot, it is too big…”

It seemed to her as if her anus was endlessly distending, and that the flesh of her belly was getting tighter and tighter. “No… no…” she succeeded in articulating that little word but it was already too late and she could feel the man's finger against her skin. Then the whole tool was in her. She felt the warm breeze exhaled by the mouths close to her buttocks, and imagined the men contemplating her monstrous and voluptuous impalement. She hid her face in her hands and tried to conceal her shame. She was moaning and undulating under the thrusting of the instrument as the man held it.

They were all admiring the narrow mouth swallowing the hard pole, sticking to its contours.

Monique did not see Sylvie taking the other one in hand. It was at least seventeen inches long, and three inches wide. The only slightly compressible part was the end, made of some chemically treated rubber. It was four inches long, and offered a protuberance in its middle. It ended in a round bubble. A blue velvet handle was on the other extremity of the monstrous tool.

Monique realized that her arms and knees were held by two pairs of arms. The monk stood up, and holding the tool with both hands put its head on her orifice, already prepared by the former insertions. Then he looked at the two men, and at Sylvie, silently and slowly he pushed-

Monique opened her mouth, but the cry remained in her throat. Her eyes, widened with pain, were reflecting the fear that was holding her. It seemed to Monique that something incredibly big was edging its way in her, that her thighs were being monstrously taken apart, that she was ripping in two. A horrible suffering came in her. Her jaws trembled, then a hoarse cry came out of her throat, while with a sudden move, she tried desperately to free herself from the brutal possession. Her body, oscillating from one side to another tried to escape to the monstrous rod.

In seeming vain, the monk was pushing the instrument in her with all his strength. The head was slowly entering her, forcing the muscled mouth to open.

He stopped his efforts and dropped the engine. They could all admire the sight of that stake, planted in her, and its end, propped out of the distended bottom.

Shaken with nervous spasms, Monique was sighing softly, feeling that enormous ball between her buttocks that seemed anchored in her.

But the monk took the handle again, and softly, inexorably, slowly, pushed the dildo, helping its penetration. Another effort, and the distended asshole seemed to suck the phallus, to swallow it, and suddenly the gigantic thing slid in up to the velvet handle.

The monk dropped the handle, and they all stared at the monstrous dilation of her asshole. Her bottom was shaken by nervous spasms, and the whole body shivering. No longer could one see the puckered lips of her little hole. What was left out was vibrating under the pressure running and beating through Monique's veins.