Jon Reskind - The abducted bride

Jean's eyes were glazed in frightened uncontrollable desire. The thoughts of unconsciousness had faded. She wanted to feel. She wanted to feel the deliciousness of a man fucking her. She wanted her belly filled by great pools of cum and feel it shaking around wetly inside her…

Hurry, Shalla, hurry, her mind droned drunkenly. Bring me one, bring me one or I'll die!

She did not have long to wait. The door opened and an old man on crutches hobbled in, his eyes shining in lust. He had only one leg and his clothes were those of a street beggar. They looked as though they had not left his body in months. Jean's passion was beyond caring now, he was a man! A man with a cock that could slice into her burning pussy. That was all that mattered.

Hurry, you bastard, hurry, raced through her mind desperately. She opened her legs wide, pointing the dripping hair-lined slit of her cunt directly at the lewdly grinning cripple, grinding it up with her tightly clenched ass in an equally lewd invitation to spur him to speed.

He lost no time in tearing his ragged clothes from his unwashed body. He hadn't believed the Arab on the street when he had described this women he had for sale. Nor the price. All that would buy on the street was a fat old hag who had been used up years before and who would lie drunkenly under you thinking of the wine she could buy with the money from this trick. But this was different. The Arab had spoken truly. She was young and her flesh was firm. It had been many long years since he had fucked anything even approaching this. He could not afford the young ones in the houses and even if he could they would turn him down because of his nauseating appearance. He could not believe his luck with this one, begging him for it with her obscene gestures and groans. He would use his ten minutes well.

He hobbled to the bed and without ceremony, threw the stump of his missing leg over Jean's squirming body. He straddled her stomach heavily. The soft whiteness of it brushed tantalizingly against the wrinkled sac of-his dangling balls causing his ancient prick to jerk in anticipation. He moved forward along her writhing torso, laying his still semi-soft penis between the valley of her full fleshy tits. He cupped a hand on either side of the quivering mounds and pushed them together, trapping his awakening cock softly between them. He had always wanted to do this but none would ever let him. Now with the girl's hands tied over her head she could not object. Besides, the Arab said anything as long as he didn't mark her.

Jean, beneath him, could feel the bones of his thin buttocks pressing painfully into her ribs as he rocked forward. He had straddled her so suddenly that she had been taken unaware. She needed him in her – not like this. She tried desperately to wriggle up the bed under him but he rode with her body.

"No, no, please, not that way, not that way," she cried in frustration as she looked down her nose and watched the red bulbous head growing between her tightly held tits. She could feel it begin to throb against the sensitive tissue of her skin, sending further sheets of hot licking flame racing down to the quivering slit of her palpitating cunt.

"Oh God no! Fuck me, please! Please!" she begged as he began a rocking motion, sliding his blue veined cock faster and faster between her straining breasts. Spit dripped from his puffing lips, moistening the narrow valley and making the passage easier for the rampaging instrument that ignored her pleas. He continued his desperate thrusting – faster – faster – his breath coming in quick labored gasps, until before her horror-stricken eyes, its long stored cum began spurting in sticky hot streams over her naked breasts. It ran down over her shoulders and throat in wet white rivulets, soaking the mattress beneath.

"Get in me. Get in me. Now! Now!" she raved, her head thrashing from side to side in bitter defeat.

"Why didn't you? Why didn't you?" she shouted up at him through hate-filled eyes, her arms straining at the binding ropes like a mad woman. She cursed his impotency with all the foul words that came to her lust deranged mind.

"Send me a man! Shalla you son of a bitch! Send me a man!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. Her cunt was a steaming hot cavern now that twitched like a nerve out of control. Her body was going to explode into a million fiery particles if someone didn't stuff a cock into her soon – she sobbed hysterically, crying out for deliverance.

The crippled dressed and hobbled hurriedly from the room, fearful that this lunatic might break loose from her bonds and do him bodily harm.

As Jean watched him disappear through the door, she suddenly gasped and held her breath. His form was replaced by the shadow of the biggest man she had ever seen. He stooped as he entered to keep from hitting his head against the frame.

He was jet black!

Her pleadings froze in her throat. Desire, suddenly replaced by fear, withered in her body. He would kill her!

"I've brought you a man, my pigeon," Shalla's voice cooed from behind the giant Nubian. "I've given him a discount to let some of the others watch. You must perform well," he chortled happily. "They are paying one American dollar each for a good exhibition and we can't disappoint them, can we?"

"Ohh, please, no," Jean whimpered, a battle raging between her mental revulsion and the fire raging inside her drugged body. "I can't, I can't, not in front of other people. N-Not with h-him. Ohh, please, please, Shalla!"

Without speaking, he reached for the towel over the caged black rat and withdrew it slowly, his cruel grin directed straight into her eyes.

"Chiga would like to watch also. I'm certain you would not like to disappoint my little pet. He offends so easily."

The starving rat clawed and struggled against the restraining wire of the cage, his beady eyes hungrily searching the room for some sign of food to quell his ravenous appetite. Jean shrank back into the mattress, the terror again crawling over her as his tiny wicked eyes locked on her naked white flesh.

Shalla watched the servile acceptance register on her terrified face. He was contented that she would not give trouble with the threat present of her breasts being ripped from her body. He patted the top of the cage lovingly and motioned for Mufta to herd the crowd into the room.

Jean was dimly aware, through drug glazed eyes, of the leering faces crowding into the small closed room. Would they ever stop coming? They were lining the walls and hanging over the iron rail at the end of the bed, packing the small chamber until the air became hot and almost unbearable from their sweating unwashed bodies and heavy excited breathing. They were horrible grotesque faces peering down at her. Some toothless and unshaven, some marred by terrible diseases, but all wide-eyed and eager for the cruel ravishment of the quivering white body staked out before them to begin.

When the room was jammed with at least twenty straining men, Shalla motioned for Mufta to lock the door, cutting off the last entrance for air. The odor was heavy and pressed down on Jean like an invisible musty cape. She struggled for breath, her lungs sucking in great gasps, fighting to maintain consciousness.

Shalla nodded his head at the painting Nubian who began eagerly stripping his clothes from his glistening black body. His pants fell to the floor causing a murmur of fevered approval to ripple through the excited crowd. His giant ebony cock reared out from his black muscular stomach like a third arm with a huge tightly balled fist at the end. It was at least ten inches long and two inches wide and the two great sperm inflated balls hanging at the base gave it the menacing appearance of a cannon ready to fire.

Jean jerked her tightly clenched eyes open at the ripple of noise running through the room, her shocked gaze locking on the monstrous shaft pointing directly at her. She gasped in terror, drawing her thighs tightly together in anguished fear, her mouth dropping loosely open in astonished disbelief.