Carl Van Marcus - The tempted bride

Grace gulped and swallowed automatically; not to do so would have caused her to strangle, swallowing the pungent male elixir first in small amounts and then in greater dosage as the cum continued to spurt unceasingly. Then abruptly, in spite of her revulsion at the lewd act forced on her, her jerking throat subtly changed its rhythm and strangely, she was swallowing hungrily, feeling the need to further debase herself in punishment. She wallowed obscenely in the pleasure of subjugation to the fat man's wildly spewing cock jerking into her face. She wanted to be punished – she needed this degradation. She sucked… and sucked, stroking his testicles lovingly – wanting more… more.

"Okay, that's enough," said Ricky with a deep sigh, falling back in temporary satiation against the couch.

And from behind her, Grace heard a familiar voice, unmistakable in its lewd hunger. "If you're through with the hot little cunt, how about giving me a crack at her."

She turned, then gasped in fright and sought to crawl closer to Ricky as she saw the little figure of the bookmaker, named Andy, leering lustfully down at her.

Grace cringed in abject fear against Ricky Karl's legs, an act that caused the fat man to laugh in a cruel sadistic glee a noise that sounded more like the nocturnal barkings of a jackal. "Go ahead, Andy. The snooty little cunt's all yours."

"Oh, please. No. You promised to help me. Don't. Oh, God! Please, Mr. Karl. He'll hurt me." She was trembling violently now, close to fainting but afraid to lose consciousness for fear of being handed over to the torturers.

Andy glanced down at her, puzzled at first by her frightened comments, then he realized she was stupid enough to think that Ricky really was handing her over to him for good. He laughed. "Shit, lady, I'm not going to kill you… yet. Not unless I kill you by fucking you to death. But I am going to fuck you. I watched that tight little pussy of yours wig-wagging back and forth while you were blowing Ricky and it was all I could do to keep from running over here and giving it to you from behind dog fashion."

Again in Grace's mind there was that surprising juxtaposition between happy relief at receiving another last minute pardon and revulsion at the man's obscene language and what he was requesting. Even as this thought was being formulated, Andy had begun undressing. She watched, in horrified abhorrence and close to nausea as he removed everything but his jockey shorts beneath which she saw the awesome shape of his penis – frighteningly long and thick even though it was still hidden by the cloth. The wiry muscles stretched like cables on the little horseman's body. He looked tough, capable, and there wasn't an ounce of fat on him.

"Get up. Take off everything," Andy demanded. "I don't want any of that frilly crap getting in my way when I shove my cock into your cunt."

Mortified and humiliated, Grace glanced once up toward Ricky as if seeking salvation, but the sadistic look of burning anticipation in his eyes made her realize there was to be no hope from him. She stood, still trembling but less violently than before, and unfastened her garter belt. Slowly, using both hands, she peeled down the hose on her right leg and stepped out of it.

Andy watched as she removed the brown sheer hose from her other leg. Then she was standing before him, eyes downcast and subservient. She was taller than he by at least four inches, but that didn't matter… he had the great equalizer between his legs. When he got through reaming out her proud little cunt, she'd know a real man had fucked her and his Goddamned height wouldn't make any difference at all. There was only one thing more he wanted, and he said, "Don't take offense, Ricky, but do you mind if I have the cunt wash out her mouth. I don't relish kissing a mouth full of your cum."

Ricky giggled obscenely. "Go ahead, Andy. Let her gargle with whiskey."

Grace heard all this without any emotion. She had numbed her body and her brain so that she would feel nothing, hear nothing. A bottle of bourbon was shoved into her hand as Andy snarled, "Go ahead and gargle, you sweet little cocksucker, you."

Grace tilted the bottle to her lips and swished the liquor around in her mouth. She looked mutely toward Ricky, but found only amusement on his moon face. She swallowed the whiskey, choking and gasping, and then feeling the need of assistance in getting over what was obviously going to be a horrible time, took another long, deep drink before putting the bottle back on the table.

Ricky stood for the first time. His wrinkled little sausage of a penis was almost too small to be seen beneath the repulsive roll of fat that hung like a white rubber tire below his navel. He jerked his head toward the couch. "Fuck her there, Andy; I'd like to see the action you get out of her goody-goody little pussy."

Andy grinned nastily, then the smile faded from his mean tight little face as he looked at the voluptuous young brunette standing like a slave on an auction block in front of him. "You heard him, cunt. Lie down on the fucking couch and spread your legs."

As if she were a zombie, Grace did as she was instructed. She could feel the slight scratchiness of the couch pushing against her naked back and buttocks as she lay back, resigned and unfeeling, awaiting whatever depraved obscenities that might be heaped on her head.

"Look at this cock, baby. I want you to see what Daddy's got for that little pussy of yours," Andy crooned.

Grace turned, not knowing what to expect, then gasped when she saw the awesome size of the jockey's penis. It seemed almost bigger than the man. No woman could ever take that without being split apart; that massive cudgel would rip her from vagina to anus if he tried to put it inside her. She swallowed, now unable to tear her eyes from the frightening sight.

Ricky asked, "Wouldn't you like her to suck on it? She's a talented little cocksucker."

Andy wrapped the fingers of his left hand around the mid-part. Even with both hands on it, there were still two inches of trunk and the mammoth head uncovered. He looked over toward Ricky, grinning. "Naw, no blow job for me. I never told you this, but when I was twelve years old, I met a woman who could really suck cocks; I mean, she had her own little Hoover vacuum cleaner in her mouth. That was when I was twelve. You know something, Ricky, I was five feet ten inches tall and had a two inch pecker. When she got through sucking on me, I was five feet two inches tall and had a ten inch cock."

Ricky blinked then began guffawing as he realized Andy had just put him on. Grace tried to shove herself even deeper in the couch. These two men undoubtedly were the lewdest, the most depraved individuals she had ever encountered in her life. Their obscene conversation and words scraped like coarse sandpaper against the tender sensitivities of her soul, in spite of the fact that she thought her mind and body had been sealed off from them.

"All right, cunt. Spread your legs, I'm going to ride your little pussy just like I was in the Kentucky Derby," Andy said, his eyes glittering now with a lewd anticipation.

Grace knew there was nothing she could do but obey. No sense in asking anyone here for mercy or forgiveness or gentleness. Her eyes locked once more on that long thick cock extending out from his loins. He was going to hurt her, she knew beyond a doubt. He would relish hearing her scream, would delight in every groan of pain that was pulled forcefully from her body. And Ricky, sitting now over there on the chair, would equally enjoy her pitiful moans and pleas.

Grace lay still, resigned to her fate, with her thighs spread wide waiting, waiting for the rape of her helplessly young vagina, Stan's vagina, to begin. Her belly quivered in fear and she could already almost feel the terrible pressure, the stretching as his huge penis pressed nakedly against the open lips of her small, defensively clenched vaginal opening.