Carl Van Marcus - The tempted bride

"You are a hot little cunt," the bookie groaned and there was, for the first time, genuine admiration in his voice.

The lewd compliment, coupled with the exquisite feeling deep up in her belly, resulted in a message from loins to brain – a message she found hard to believe, but that magnificent pressure building inside her was not to be denied. This was it! Oh, God, she was coming closer, closer…

"Harder! Oh God… fuck harder. Oh… ohhhh," she wailed. "Give me… give… more! Fuck me, fuck me…" but her craven begging, which Andy had been waiting to hear, fell on deaf ears because the little jockey was so close to his own release that he heard nothing, saw nothing… felt everything.

Grace panted and writhed, hearing the hoarse gasping of the man atop of her breathing as though he had just about reached the tape in the two thousand metre run. His cock raged and hurtled into her, and nothing had ever felt so wonderful before. She tingled from the tips of her toes to the back of her head, and without any more notice, the tingle became a convulsion.

She gasped as it hit her, gasping, "Andy… I'm cumming. Oh, God. Beautiful… wonderful… I'm cummmming. Aiiiiieeeeeeeee." Even above the violence of her own orgasm as she bucked and jerked against him, she felt his cock grow even larger – ballooning in size – and then begin to pump hot, thick sperm deep up into her hungrily quivering belly. She locked her arms around his muscular little body, wanting this exquisite bliss to last forever.

Finally, her legs went limp and splayed out obscenely on either side of the jockey. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she took one deep sigh. Then, abruptly, the earlier wave of humiliation and shame came back to her, flooding her mind, as she recalled where she was and what had been done to her and who was lying atop her with his thick savage penis still buried deep inside her gently palpitating vagina. Tears began streaming down her cheeks. She lay there motionless, eyes closed, beaten as Andy slowly pulled out of her, his deflated prick slipping from her vagina with a lewd, wet, sucking noise. He stood, wobbling slightly.

The sight of the beautiful young wife being fucked into insensibility had caused Ricky to go almost out of his mind and, with his stubby little cock as erect as it had been earlier, he impatiently straddled the girl the moment Andy got up. He placed his two fat hairy knees on each side of her rib cage right under her armpits, his penis lying in the cleavage between her breasts.

Grace was too weary, too sated, to fight this new assault upon her body. She lay there, eyes closed, as Ricky pressed her warm soft breasts tight against his cock and began sawing back and forth. He worked for less than a minute before he suddenly grunted, and his prick began shooting out spurts of white, hot cum that splattered against her chin and face and throat, and clung like translucent elongated pearls in her disheveled raven black hair.

She stoically bore this latest indignity feeling neither revulsion nor hatred for the degradation, knowing with a sure certainty that this was only the beginning of a long and arduous ordeal. She was a prisoner of these two men, a prisoner just as surely as if she wore a striped uniform and was locked and chained in a dungeon. There was no place she could go where they would not find her, no one – not even the police to turn to for protection without being eventually betrayed. She knew now that her only salvation would be death or to become one of them, one of their whores. She could not begin to imagine what other vile depraved demands would be made of her. She knew only one thing – survival – and she would do anything they asked.

Andy had gone over to the bar where he watched, with considerable amusement, Ricky fuck the naked young woman's breasts. He knew how the evening would wind up, for Ricky did have a few peculiar hang-ups, like having the broad stand spread-legged over him and piss in his face. Well, everyone was entitled to get their kicks any way they could. His eyes narrowed as he slowly raised the double shot of bourbon and sipped it. Ricky was off the broad now and Andy could see the long, slender body of the woman in repose. He thought once again about the view he'd had of her when he first came into the room, of her being on hands and knees with that magnificent young ass waving high in the air behind her like a beautiful target with two bull's-eyes. He'd scored with one, that left an untouched bull's eye… her asshole! He glanced down at his prick and saw it slowly crawling to new life. Yeh, he thought with growing excitement, yeh! "Tiddle-de-dee – Tiddle-de-dum; lookout asshole, here we come," he mentally said, remembering the old limerick.

"Hey, boss," he called to Ricky, "you finished? Can I borrow the little snatch again?"

Grace did not catch the significance of the word "boss", and it did not dawn on her until much later that in reality Ricky had been calling the shots right from the beginning – that the person who would order her beating or enslavement or execution would be the fat man… not the little jockey.

Ricky beamed down at his cum slowly flowing down the chin and throat of the young, already well-fucked bride. Fucking her in between those soft, incredibly warm tits had been very exciting indeed, just as he had known it was going to be. She really was a splendid specimen – not only body-wise, but also in her earlier moral arrogance which had been broken so easily. After watching Andy screwing her silly, he knew just about everything he needed to know about her capabilities. She was going to make a good addition to his stable. He rated her excellent at the moment, but if she had a particularly strong bladder, he would unhesitatingly raise that rating to "Superior". He found himself growing excited at the thought of the treat in store for him, so much so that it took him a second to realize that Andy had spoken to him.

"What is it, my boy?" he asked, without taking his eyes off Grace's sperm spattered neck and chin.

"I wanted to know if you were through with the little bitch for a minute. I'd like to try it on again for size."

"Of course, of course," Ricky said. "That's why she's here. Go right ahead, but first…" He waddled across the room to the refrigerator behind the bar and pulled out two bottles of beer. He unscrewed the caps from both of them as he carried them back to the couch. "Here you are, my dear. Drink these."

Grace opened her eyes and saw the proffered bottle of beer. "No… thanks…" she said weakly, thinking it was an act of kindness on his part and not wanting to hurt his feelings. This idea was promptly shocked out of her mind when Ricky snarled viciously, "I said drink it, you bitch." Bewildered and frightened, Grace sat upright and accepted the bottle. She took a little sip.

"All of it," Ricky growled. "And be quick about it."

Grace drank it as rapidly as she could, then puzzled, reluctantly took the second bottle. When she finished that one, Ricky had come back with two more. She already felt bloated and didn't think her stomach could handle anymore. She looked beseechingly at the fat man, but his steely glare made her swallow the plea. She drank the third bottle and then, feeling as if she were about to burst with stomach churning, she finally managed to consume the contents of the last bottle. Ricky smiled at her as though she were an obedient child who has just eaten all the spinach. "That was splendid, my dear, simply splendid. Oh, I can hardly wait." He shivered in a little ecstasy of anticipation, his rolls of fat and girl-like breasts quivering like mounds of jello.

Grace had absolutely no idea of what he meant, but that wasn't what was bothering her at the moment for she had caught the mean speculative look on the thinly built bookie, Andy's, face. He obviously had something new and even more horrible that he wanted to do to her. That look, feral and evil, sent a chill down her spine.