Jon Reskind - The unholy Master

Victoriously, the two boys left her to attack another whose partners chose to fall upon the exhausted girl on the floor.

Paul could scarcely breathe. His rod ached in its throbbing hardness. Danielle was stroking it tenderly, working the heavy foreskin up and down over the glans as driblets of its sticky, lubricating fluid seeped from the tiny orifice in its blood-inflated head. It had been too goddamned long! Christ! This was not enough. He had to have release of some kind or his balls were going to burst!

He glanced hotly around the room and saw other couples, all of whom had swapped their legal mates, engaged in one form or another of sex. In the dim lighting he made out Gretchen Friestag completely naked now and up on all fours atop the couch with Rondeau on his knees behind her, and they were bucking at each other in a frenzy all their own. And only a couch away was Charl Rondeau's slim, dark-haired wife, also naked and planted on her hands and knees between Hans Friestag's spread legs, the German's cock shoved up into her mouth, her head bobbing like a yo-yo on a string, his prick soaring into her face until her lips must have touched the pubic hair of his pelvis.

Christ, he couldn't stand it any longer! He started to reach for Danielle but his eyes caught the two boys who had grabbed a girl up from the floor and clung to their antics in lewd fascination. He watched them lift her and begin to dance around her. The girl was facing him and Paul could see her dripping, gaping cunt, an unbelievable sight on such a small young girl. Then she turned her back to him and toward the boy at her rear, and gradually she bent forward, until the breadth of her buttocks was jutting toward him and the boy obscenely, rotating gently as if in invitation. Her thighs tensed and rippled in slim strength as she shifted on her feet, and then she reached back with her dark, slender arms and gently pulled apart her buttocks with her fingers, disclosing in an even more obscene gesture that little dark hole for their pleasure.

Around the tiny revealed anus, which seemed so raw and vulnerable, a few stray black hairs fringed. The girl's bottom rotated as if on its own axis, taunting and teasing at the poised boy who had suddenly begun to manipulate his rigid cock with his hand. Suddenly, the boy in front lurched toward her and meekly, she grabbed the stiff, ramrod prick, but she was too weak to resist. The boys were dynamized, as if inflamed to fury; but she was languid, spent with motion… as if she had come a hundred times. The front boy's cock looked hot and hard and slippery. Her small hand couldn't hold it! It slid forward into her nymphotomized, unprotected vagina with ease. He hauled her loins to him with a shocking, slapping jolt, while the boy in back squeezed and tormented her ripe, small breasts, then took aim and with one thrust entered her asshole in a jerking plunge.

God almighty, the orgy seemed unending. The girls writhed in pleasurable agony, their faces twisted and twitching in orgastic convulsions; while the boys seemed spurred to pulsatory violence by the rhythmic beat of the drums, continuing to torture them with never ending thrusting. The youths lurched their buttocks furiously, attacking and retreating unmercifully.

They commenced to rotate by turns, abandoning themselves to frenetic spasms of lust, alternatingly assailing cunt and asshole until they were ready to drop from the exertion. And then, as Paul watched in absolute, unrestrained depravity, they did sink to the floor, boy and girl together, pawing and clawing at each other, an occasional girl sucking at a limp cock in her effort to restore it to life. The girls were squirming and groaning, yet, still hotly and hungrily handling the deflated pricks of their delirious partners… while up at the end, the drummers, afire with their own desires, were rapidly jerking at themselves and each other with a free hand…

Paul was beside himself in his aching passion, ready to beg for it now if necessary, but then he saw that Danielle had removed her toga and was presently unfastening the shoulder-clasp of his own. Then, she was lifting his feet onto the couch and climbing between his legs to hover above his heavy, rock-hard, palpitating cock, her lips barely touching the tip of its purple, bloated head. Her long tresses hung down to taunt his naked belly and thighs, and he could see the long, hard distended nipples of her breasts pulsing in their own right. She looked up at him.

"First, ma chere, your slave will suck you to relief… then, we will go to a private bed where we can fuck and fuck and fuck! Oui?"

"Oui, oui," groaned Paul heavily, lifting his hips upward toward her face frantically. "Any thing, any thing, only… suck that prick, baby! Suck it! Suck it!"

By the time Doctor Leduc got around to leading Janet to his private consulting chambers, she found that fear had begun to take the place of the ardent desire that had been building within her throughout the day. The liqueurs – or whatever they were – she had been consuming one after the other had peaked her passion almost to the maddening point before supper, but with the passing of time and following what food she had eaten, all such carnal thoughts and sensations had suddenly dissipated themselves, leaving little but apprehensive revulsion for what she knew was to come.

Dear God, why had Paul insisted they come here, she thought, as the suave Frenchman led her into a luxurious suite of rooms located in a far wing of the sprawling villa. She watched him snap the catch of the lock behind him and wondered what in God's name she would do for help if she needed it. They had walked for ten minutes along corridors and up stairs. Paul could never find her here! Nor could she ever find her way back to him…

"And now, ma chere, this night I want you to completely relax and give of yourself," Leduc said, smiling meaningfully at her.

Although the room was splendidly furnished with massive desk, plush chairs, and other paraphernalia depicting his profession, a round, rose-hued, velvet covered bed surrounded with mirrors immediately caught her eye, its obvious purpose causing her breath to catch frighteningly in her throat.

She looked to him quickly, her beautiful eyes widening now in this new panic that had begun to well up inside her. "Doctor… I… please, may we not go back and join the others?" she stammered hesitantly in her perfect French.

Leduc's smile broadened as he observed this new consternation draining the color from her entrancing face. It pleased him that she dreaded what was to come, yet knew she must submit like a common slave. Earlier, he had feared that she was looking forward to their little tete-a-tete, and he felt disappointed inasmuch as her desire would deprive him of forcing his will upon her, but now he realized she had drunk too much absinthe and the effects had finally dwindled with the event of time and supper.

Leduc walked to a chair and lowered himself into it. "My pet, you surprise me," he said tauntingly. "I thought after our last day aboard ship together that you had come to understand you must open your cunt to me whenever I feel like dallying with you?"

The vile sound of the lewd word twisted Janet's entrails nauseously. "Oh please… please don't speak that way to me?" she pleaded.

"Ahhhh, but ma chere, I will speak to you as I choose," Leduc said softly, changing to English. "For you are my own luscious bitch slave… and tonight I intend to teach you many new things to delight my sensual appetite."

Janet's hand went to her throat in an automatic gesture of her dread. She must have been insane this morning when she thought she wanted him to make love to her! My God, he was foul and evil… and she had to get out of here! Suddenly, she spun about and ran for the heavy door, fumbling with the lock frantically… but the effort was futile. She couldn't open it. Slowly, she turned back toward him, tears dribbling down her reddened cheeks.