Jonathan Everest - The tortured tourists

"Wait!" he yelled at Le Boeuf, who was leaving the room. "Don't go yet. We are going to get the camera for the next step. I am going to have a picture of this rich American sucking your big black Moroccan cock!"

"Jean!" Le Boeuf was even shocked, now. "Let me wash it off."

"No! To use his own native phrase, I have taken enough shit off this man. Now I will see him take a little of his own shit off you. And get my prize picture at the same time. Yvette, get the camera."

"Yvette is not going to move," said Tommy from the doorway, as he calmly took aim and shot Gerault in the kneecap.

The Frenchman's screams filled the room. It sounded loud enough to be heard in the dungeon. Fleming thought of this, and imagined what the girls might be going through, not knowing who had been shot.

He moved carefully away from the bed, staying out of Le Boeuf's reach, until he got to the lamp table where Gerault had placed his pistol; he checked it to see if it was loaded, then kicked off the safety.

"Okay, Tommy. You can get the girls loose, now. Gerault, toss him the keys!" The Frenchman was moaning between clenched teeth, as he held the shattered knee in both hands. The artery had not been hit, for the blood was only seeping slowly between the white-knuckled fingers.

"They're already loose. I picked their locks before I went out for the gun. I figured that they could wait at the top of the stairs and trip anyone who showed up before I got back with this."

"That was taking a risk, son. But good work, anyhow. But we still want those keys." Silently, Le Boeuf moved a hand up to his shirt pocket, and pulled out a ring with one small key on it. He held it out to Tommy.

"Use mine," he said. Fleming and Tommy both had covered him with their guns as he reached for his shirt pocket. Now they relaxed.

"How about your key, Yvette?" Tommy asked. She shrugged her shoulders and nodded toward the back of the house.

"In my purse on the table back there." Her eyes were tired, but they showed no fear.

"Okay, Yvette. Now get down there on the floor and get Gerault's key from him." She looked at Tommy, and then grinned.

"There are only the two keys. They were in the houses just like the shackles and chains. Gerault thinks this place was used by the Underground or the Boche during the war." Her accent was less pronounced, now, as she spoke slowly, without excitement.

Tommy looked at his father, who nodded at him, then at Yvette.

"Let's go, Yvette." The Beretta motioned her up onto her feet, and she preceded Tommy down the hall. Fleming heard two short raps, then three more harder raps on the cellar door. He grinned to himself as he thought of Tommy planning the signals with Ann and Darla.

The women came down the hall, but Fleming motioned them back.

"Stay out of here. Keep to the back of the house, until there bastards are under chains." The girls disappeared back down the hall and he heard them using the bathroom.

When Tommy returned, he looked to his father, then at Le Boeuf, then at the moaning Gerault.

"We'll do it the easy way," Fleming said. "You go down first and wait for us. Stay clear of the bottom of the stairs, in case Le Boeuf drops his burden. Okay, pick him up and take him down there!" The silenced pistol centered on the Moroccan's belly.

He stepped over to Gerault and amid much groaning and protesting, picked up the smaller man and started down the hall. Fleming followed at a discreet distance, all the way to the cellar.

Le Boeuf put his load down by the wall where Tommy stood, pointing with the Beretta. Le Boeuf saved them trouble. He walked over to another set of shackles, then fastened them around his own ankles and wrists. There was only resignation on his face.

Tommy checked the locks on the Moroccan, then he and his father got the cuffs locked on Gerault.

"I have to have a doctor!" the Frenchman protested. "I could bleed to death! You could not have that on your conscience!"

"Couldn't I?" asked Fleming. He regarded the deflated sadist with disgust. "You're not bleeding that much. If you're smart, and hold that leg still, you'll be alive when we get you a doctor. If you move it, a piece of that bone or cartilage might just puncture an artery."

"You did not have to shoot me! I wasn't even holding my gun."

"Be thankful you weren't. Tommy's a crack pistol shot. He knew that if he'd just threatened you with it, you might have gone for a gun, and he'd have had to shoot to kill. You see, we aren't taking any chances on the safety of our family with a madman like you. Now, shut up and consider yourself lucky."

Tommy had gone upstairs, and now he returned with Ann and Darla in tow. The girls had cleaned up quite a bit, but they still showed signs of fatigue and the ordeal they'd been through.

"I've cased the whole place, Dad, and there's no phone here," said Tommy. "Guess we'll have to go somewhere and call the Surete."

"I'll tell you what. You keep your eye on things here, and I'll go get the law, and bring some clean clothes for everyone from the hotel. I know the girls won't want to go back to town looking like they do now." The wry smiles and nods told him he'd been right. "Don't forget the doctor!" groaned Gerault.

"I'd like to," Fleming told him, then he kissed Ann, patted Darla's cheek, and winked at Tommy. "Stand loose. See you as soon as I can make it."

He went up the stairs, leanng the door open, and soon they heard the engine of the Citroen as it left.

"I think I'll go up and lie down for a while," said Ann, smiling apologetically at her children.

"I don't blame you, Mother," said Darla. "I'll join you later. Right now, I think I'll keep Tommy company for a while." Ann went upstairs, and Darla leaned against one of the pillars which supported the floor joists of the house, as she studied the nude form of Yvette, who was sitting on the mattress parked below her wall chains.

Tommy was studying her, too. He was remembering the humiliation she'd put him through. Then he tensed as Darla picked up her skirt and held it at her waist, walking slowly over to the filthy Frenchwoman. Tommy was aghast as Darla pushed the girl over onto her back, then squatted over the brunette's head.

"Stick your tongue in this," she whispered, her eyes daring the prisoner to refuse. Still she seemed surprised when the long, pink tongue snaked out and lapped greedily at her widely opened slit. It twirled expertly around Darla's little fleshy bud, making her tingle all over. Around and around it moved, then licked out and caressed daintily the swelling lips on either side of the slit.

Darla had intended to humiliate Yvette, but now she was caught up in the pleasure of what was happening to her. Her breath panted as the expert tongue made passionate love to her excited flesh. She could feel the juices start to flow from her, and every once in a while the brunette's mouth would move up to cup her entire fleshy canyon and suck at it, draining it of its nectar.

Tommy was fascinated by whatever it was that his sister was up to. He walked slowly over toward them, and squatted down to see it all.

Darla was too involved by now to think or care who saw what. She was breathing heavily, and the wind hissed through her teeth as the sensations built up inside her. Her eyes were closed, and a whimpering sound was issuing from her nose.

Tommy's eyes dropped from his sister's face to her crotch. He stared at the beautifully enticing pinkness of her open slit, and watched as Yvette's tongue lashed out and upward, sliding along a fleshy lip up to the top, then dipping in and caressing the tiny sentinel inside.

When her lips reached up and sucked at the meaty splendor, he felt a thrill unlike any he'd experienced before. In spite of his recent activities, he felt himself getting an erection. He hadn't known that watching one female do this to another could affect a man so deeply.