Ron Taylor - Roped and raped

His hand came up again, socking me between the legs. I jumped high, away from his painful belting fist, knowing that he could do it, that he could do it with a sick, gloating smile. The Marine tattoo on his bicep gleamed beneath a film of lust-induced sweat. Had Vietnam turned him into the animal he appeared, or had he always been this way?

"What'll we do with her now?" Randy asked, bracing me when I staggered.

"Let's tie her up," Luke suggested. "Use them tethers on the wall, string her in all nice and neat. We might's well keep her in the barn. Ain't no extry beds in the house."

That seemed to settle it. I was led back into the stall where I had been multiply raped and, naked, I was roped fast to a pair of ring tethers near the base of the wall. The ropes, also, were very short. I couldn't stand up once I'd been tied into place. All I could manage was to lie or huddle, cramped, uncomfortable. When I was secure, Luke and Randy rose from me, patted my tits and cunt, and retreated.

"Don't worry about tryin' to get away," Luke advised. "I'm gonna hook up a bell to the barn door and, if you try to open it up, why, I'll have to come see what's wrong. Course, you ain't gonna get them knots undone anyway."

"I'm hungry," Patty whined nasally. "Hungry enough for two. Let's go get some supper."

"We'll send you out somethin', when we've finished," Pa put in courteously. "If there's anythin' left."

I hadn't even thought about food. It was the last thing to worry about when my very life hung teetering on the edge. I had no doubt they intended to kill me, once they'd used my body to its breaking point. And how long could I endure the sexual agony without breaking? Weeks? Days? Hours, perhaps? I didn't know.

Weariness stole upon me once I was alone, and I moved back against the wall, relaxing the strain in my arms and legs. I let my head settle and, for a moment, the physical exhaustion was the most important thing. I couldn't plan, couldn't think, couldn't do anything – not until I'd given my abused body some rest. Night was settling in with chill breezes that seeped through the chinks of the wall behind me, and I was cold and naked, but not even that could keep me from dropping into a much-needed sleep.

I slept. I dreamed.

Angela and I were making love in a bed of fragrant blooming flowers. Roses and violets and daisies and daffodils, their colors our blanket, their perfumed scents an envelope for me and her. I could see it so clearly, as if I were watching as well as participating. We were in a 69, each of us burrowing madly, deliriously, in the other's cunt. I licked her clit and a flood of honeysuckle dew oozed from her slit. My tongue ventured in, lapping up that delicious wet oozing, poked up her twat for more, and she was doing precisely the same to me, as if we'd been programmed to make beautiful, symmetrical love. Orgasm after orgasm rocked my cunt.

I heard a voice above us. "Angela. What are you doing? You promised me there'd be no repetitions, that you were done and finished with the dyke bitch. Have you forgotten so soon?"

It was Mark, towering above us. He wore a basin-type priest's hat, and a black shirt with clerical collar. And nothing else. From the hem of his shirt to his toes, he was naked, his prick thrusting in a fantastic erection. The length of his cock, the thickness – they were incredible, and they cast a deep, dark shadow across my and Angela's bodies. I saw her eyes flicker towards him, locking in.

His hand extended towards her, but she didn't take his hand. Instead she reached for Mark's gigantic cock. Her eyes began to gleam and sparkle like a drawerful of diamonds as her fist encompassed his prick, and slaver appeared in the corners of her mouth. Desperately, I burrowed into her pussy, pleading with my tongue, hoping I could remind her of the perfection we had together. She slid from me, her body greasy as butter, and I heard her make a few clucking, pigeon-like sounds. And then into her mouth went the end of Mark's dick! She swallowed the meaty pecker with greedy gulps.

"Stop! You'll strangle yourself!" I whispered, unable to believe what I was seeing. She took so much of his cock, took it so deeply. It was horrible, dreadful, blood-chilling – and I couldn't look away, not for anything. I lay on the ground, watching Angela from beneath. The flowers had begun to decay where my body touched them, and a smell of rot drifted into my nostrils.

Mark's was no ordinary cock. It was long. A foot or more when his shadow had fallen across our lovemaking. Twenty-four inches, when Angela took it in hand. A yard when she stuffed the tip into her lustful mouth. My God, his cock was like Pinocchio's nose! His prick kept rowing. Growing! Growing! It was as long as I was tall, thicker than a willow sapling, and Angela's mouth was stretched beyond belief as she took his prick in. Down the flesh of her neck and chest and tummy I could see a little mole-like motion as Mark's cock invaded her body.

"Don't do it, Angela. I love you. I want you. Me, Marilyn! Not him!"

Eagerly, wishing to prove my point, I spread her silky thighs and began once more to lick her cunt. I gave her everything I had, tonguing avidly. I stabbed, I speared, I sucked her clit. I covered her cunt with all my mouth, sucking as my tongue fluttered across her dewy pussy-petals. I vacuumed her gash until the labes began to twitch with response. Oh, thank you, God! I'd done it! She'd be mine again! She was responding. Her cunt wasn't pulling away. It was fucking towards my mouth with sexy bumps and grinds. I licked her cunt harder, knowing that I'd won. I sucked more passionately, as if I meant to pull her pussy inside out.

Something touched the tip of my teasing tongue; something fantastically hard and aggressive.

It was hot, as well, and it burned my flesh where we touched.

"Nnnnnhhhhh!" I whined, and then the tip of Mark's rod slammed into my mouth. She'd swallowed his cock all the way, and the end of his elastic rod had began to stick out from her pussy!

I lurched back in disgust and terror, but his dick kept coming out of her slit.

"No! Get awayyyyyy!!" I screamed at the penile worm.

It pursued me! Slithering like a snake from the gash of Angela's cunt, wiggling along the ground towards me, searching. I slapped it, and the thing spat little squirts of cum onto my flailing fingers. They scorched me, they stung like venom, they made my flesh crawl!

"No, no, noooooo!!" I wailed, backing away.

Something about the dream-setting had changed. Mark's feet were buried in fresh, lovely flowers, but only rotting stumps of roses spread before me. When that cum-spitting snake sprayed them with his juice, puffs of reeking smoke rose. And though I'd been certain this was an open field, that the horizon spread around us as far as the eye could see, my back was now jammed tightly against something solid, something which prevented me from backing away a single inch more. I dared not look to see what was barring my way.

"Go away, go away!" I cried helplessly, my legs writhing as that crawling cock wormed its way between them, making directly for my cunt. "Please, no! Don't fuck me!" I told it.

The tip of his cock touched my pussy-slice, sliding up and down the tight, unwilling lips.

"I don't want to do it," I told that elastic prick. "Don't make me do it!"

And into me it thrust then, spitting more of its acrid burning jism onto my cunt-flesh. The gates of my twat split as that sticky hot dew bathed them, and my back was pressed against the invisible wall behind me. I looked at Angela, and she was still swallowing that India-rubber prick, and more, more, more of it was coming out of the split of her cunt. Above us stood Mark, fanning himself idly with his wide-brimmed priestly hat, smiling a triumphant, smug smile as his dick worked into my cunt and I writhed helplessly, unable to prevent my impalement.