Jonathan Everest - The tortured tourists

"Tom-mee, he suck me good! You 'ave more experience, nor?"

The revulsion rose up in his throat, and he swallowed, hard. But his lips did not open. Gerault's cigarette tip against his left buttock made them open as he gasped, but his teeth were clamped together in agony. Nevertheless, Yvette had wig gled the rising tip of her nipple between his lips, and was cooing in his ear.

"Chew eet for me, gently. Make eet hurt a leetle for me, non?"

Having earned his battle scar, Fleming slowly obeyed. He wanted to make this last as long as he could stand it, to give Tommy as much time as possible to get free. But if he got too many of those burns especially if any of them were in the wrong places and serious enough, it might hamper him in aiding the boy when the time came.

He nibbled with his teeth at the dark, spongy flesh, and Yvette moaned as he chewed. Then she made him switch to the other breast, and he gnawed at its springy peak until she was gasping. Her body slithered over him, and she grasped his wand and began to stroke it.

When it filled her hand stiffly, she arched her back and scooped her hips downward. Her hot, dripping maw gulped at him and began to engulf him within her. Her passage was like a throat, and he could feel it swallowing him. The folds of her lining were like grasping hands, pulling at him, sucking him in.

Good Lord! What a machine! She must have been fucked by millions to get that kind of muscle development! And she's probably had all the diseases there are in the books – maybe still has them! But she sure has an educated cunt! It's milking me like I was a cow's teat!

As she moved her hips above him, squeezing his rigidity with her practiced muscles, she covered his mouth with hers. He got a quick blast of her garlic breath, then her hot tongue was plunging into his mouth. She sucked at his lips and probed with her tongue until the expertness of her treatment broke him down despite his distaste.

She vacuumed his tongue up into her mouth and sucked at it as her hips rotated and her buttocks rose and fell above him, pulling and swallowing at his manhood.

Raped, by damn! I'm actually being raped. After all the times I've joked about it, I'm being fucked against my will! Fucked? Hell, I've been fucked by what I thought was the greatest. I'm being milked and that's all you can call it. Her cunt must be a living lake. The juice is all over me!

She worked at him faster as her own excitement built. Then she turned into a fiery tornado. His stretching flesh was caught in the vortex of the sexual cyclone, and it felt as if it were being pulled out by the roots! She was sucking his tongue deep into her mouth as she pressed tightly against him and shuddered. Her whole body shook with her tremors, and something deep in her passage wrapped an iron hand around the tip of his wand and squeezed at it.

He spurted hotly into her in spasms, and they were shuddering together for several long seconds.

Yvette's weight lifted from him, and he rolled to the edge of the bed to get up.

"Wait! We are not through," Gerault said. "Yvette, lie down on the bed. We are going to have a special soixante-neaf party." The girl stretched out, this time with her feet at Fleming's head.

"Okay, Monsieur. Now you get the pleasure of eating Yvette's very hot pussy. Climb over her and get started!"

"Hell, make her take a douche, first, at least!" demanded Fleming.

"You are in no position to dictate terms," replied Gerault. His tone was deadly, and so was the look in his eyes. He was moving toward Fleming, and blowing on his cigarette as he approached.

"You're all crazy! Filthy, crazy-mad animals!" Fleming muttered. But he climbed aboard just in time to avoid the cigarette's kiss of fire. So he thought. But as he positioned himself over the dirty brunette, he felt its fire boring into his thigh in back.

"There will be no more angry words from you, Monsieur. Or you will go back to the cellar looking as if you had the plague. Do you have any idea how many places I can burn you with one cigarette?"

Fleming was boiling, and the blister rising on his thigh was a constant agony. He steeled himself to what was coming, then tried to hold his breath as he dove into her wet, hairy canyon with his lips. Her head was hanging over the edge of the bed, so he had to stand his toes on the floor and lean his thighs against the edge to poise over her in the proper place. She spread herself wide for him, and the first breath he had to take was pungent. But he had to admit that a large portion of the odor comprised the smell of his own semen, which had flowed heavily into her, and was dripping at her fleshy opening in whitish strings.

It's not bad enough to have to suck ok this filthy cant! I have to eat my own come. Makes me a second-hand cock sucker. If I just get my hands on these swine, I'll make them sorry they were born!

Suddenly he was shocked at the slimy, wet feel of something in the crack between his buttocks. A hand had slipped into the crease and deposited something greasy there. Now what? Did this dirty whore park her chewing gum in my asshole?

But he found out all too soon that Yvette was blameless. Hands separated his stern cheeks, and something hard pressed at his anus.

"Give it to him, Le Boeuf!" Gerault shouted, and Fleming felt the muscle tissue around his tightened ring stretch as the hardness pressed at the greased, puckered flesh. Then he swelled inside as the fullness entered him.

Bastards! Dirty, filthy animals! They haven't done enough to me already – now I get fucked in the ass to boot! He was so mad that he bit Yvette's swollen entrance, and she wailed her surprise. Fleming expected another blister, and tensed him self for it. But he got his punishment in another way. Yvette wrapped her arms around his waist and took the head of his penis in her mouth.

She bit on it, and he gasped in pain. Then she started to lick it, and in seconds he had another stiff problem. The pain of the bite increased when he swelled up, and it throbbed like a toothache. She worried it with her tongue and lips as he started to carry out his orders again.

He lapped his tongue in the flowing fountain of her red flesh, and she thrust up her hips to meet him, smearing her juices and the leftover semen on his lips, chin and face. He abandoned all hope of avoiding disease, and determined to get it over with. He licked at her erect passion bud until she writhed under him with ecstasy, sucking hard on him as she moaned around the mouthful of his flesh.

The Moroccan was plunging into his bowels up to the hilt, and each stroke ended with a smack as the huge balls slapped against Fleming's crotch. Each thrust forced his own organ hard against Yvette's mouth and throat, but she seemed to take it without too much discomfort. At least, her attentions to him did not slow down.

Then Le Boeuf let loose his loins, and the warmth being discharged in Fleming's bowels triggered his lust. He sucked and lapped at the meat below him, then sunk his tongue deep into her passage.

Yvette moaned heavily around her mouthful of flesh as she began to shudder out her finale. Then Fleming was turned on, and his flow pumped into her mouth and throat. He could feel her swallowing, as the head of his tool touched the back of her throat. It coaxed an additional flow from him, and he felt drained.

And then she sucked at him still more, drawing his guts right out through the tip. It felt like he was dying. As she sucked a last, long string out of him, the Moroccan pulled his limp member from Fleming's rectum.

The combined feeling was like genuine death from fatigue. Fleming fell over on the bed and lay there. He couldn't move a muscle. If his life depended on it, he couldn't have gotten up by himself.

Gerault's laughter was filling the room, as he reveled in the ultimate revilement of this American millionaire who had refused to meet ransom demands.