Ward Fulton - The Violated Virgin

"Taste it, smell it, you bitch," he said. "Good, huh?"

She almost gagged.

"Lick it off your lips, lick it!"

Almost in a dream, she put out her tongue and licked the thick salty cream off her lips, tasted it, and then swallowed.

Clayton was still inside her, his penis feeling just as hard and thick as it had before.

"You through?" Ted asked, and Clayton nodded.

"I'm through but I ain't finished," he said with a grin, "That was only the first time."

He went on moving his hips, and she felt his penis inside her, pressing her folds of flesh aside as it cruelly penetrated her. "I'm gonna fuck her dry," he said, laughing.

Donald climbed off and sat back, feeling his softening penis with his hand, while Clayton continued fucking her. Ted had his penis in his hand, playing with it.

"Go, man, go," Ted said. "Bet you can't come again in five minutes."

"You're on, feller," was the calm reply, and the black body flexed and the hips began pumping in and out. His lips came down around Suzanne's breasts, licking the nipples sensuously. She felt her vagina respond.

She knew nothing turned her on more than having her breasts sucked, and the way Clayton did it was the best ever. She twisted and turned, and then melded her movements with his until they were rocking back and forth on the floor, the sweat streaming off their bodies as the groins gripped together, joined cock-to-cunt, pushing them both towards another climax.

"Look at that black motherfucker," said Ted. "He sure can fuck."

On and on, and Suzanne found herself slipping away from reality. Her mind seemed to whirl, and as her hands went around the smooth black skin, holding him close, dragging his mouth down to her own, she felt consciousness fading. Just as Clayton's penis discharged into her for the second time, she went limp in his arms. He completed his climax and raised up, looking down at her. His eyes moved over to Ted and Donald.

"I done fucked her dry," he said, feeling his penis tenderly. "I'll bet her pussy's raw."

"She's fainted," said Donald, bending closer. "Is she all right?"

"Sure she is," snapped Ted, bending over Suzanne and slapping her cheeks. She mumbled and opened her eyes.

"See, she was jest takin' a rest," Clayton laughed. He moved away and stood up, "You shouldn't sleep, chicky-baby. We've got more fucking for you."

Suzanne moaned and closed her eyes, feeling that she was about to faint again.

"I'll wake her up," said Ted, standing up, and holding his penis so that it pointed to her face. A moment later, a stream of urine splashed down over her, and she shuddered, screamed and scrambled away across the floor, the loud, coarse laughter of the boys ringing in her ears.

"Get out, get out," she cried, collapsing on the floor, and sobbing into her hands. "Haven't you done enough?"

They began collecting their clothes and getting dressed.

"No, we ain't," said Clayton. "Ted was right. You're good pussy, and I aim to come back for some more. How 'bout you guys?"

"Sure, we'll be back," said Ted.

"When is you receiving?" asked Clayton with exaggerated politeness.

Suzanne stared up at him, her eyes filled with loathing.

"Get out," she spat.

Clayton laughed, and after they had dressed, they all moved to the door.

"Bye now," said Ted. "And remember, don't you try and say nothin' to no one. Now it's three against one, and who do you think they'll believe?"

Suzanne stared across. Ted's face was scowling at her; Clayton's held a superior look of amusement; only Donald seemed to have some semblance of compassion for her.

And then they were gone, leaving her alone and naked on the floor, her vagina throbbing and tender, her breasts scarred with teeth marks, and her neck aching and her mouth swollen. She climbed shakily to her feet and went into the bathroom. She looked at her face in the mirror and sat down on the edge of the bath, so filled with self-loathing and guilt that she hadn't the energy to cry.

Suzanne sat in the bathroom for almost an hour, trying to compose herself and wondering what to do, where to go and how she should plan her future. She knew she couldn't stay in the neighborhood; that was out of the question, she reasoned. And yet, if those boys wanted to find her, they had only to call her home anonymously and find her new address and then the whole horrible scene would start all over again.

Finally, she realized she was getting chilly, and reached for her robe, tied it around her and lay down on the couch, her hand over her eyes.

Her body was still throbbing painfully, and she eased herself against the cushions, trying to relieve the ache.

Suddenly her nerves jangled with alarm as she heard the clatter of footsteps on the stairs, and a moment later a loud knock on the door, and Yvonne's throaty voice came filtering through.

"Hey, anyone home?"

"Come in, Yvonne," Suzanne called out thankfully, and as her friend walked in the door Suzanne felt the tears well up. Yvonne took one look and hurried over to her.

"Oh, baby, what's the matter?"

Suzanne reached for the other woman, buried her face in her shoulder, and sobbed hysterically. Yvonne remained silent, rocking the girl quietly in her arms until the crying spell had passed.

"Okay, you want to talk about it? Is it Sam?"

Suzanne wiped her eyes, and shook her head.

"No. No, it's not Sam. It's…" Her voice broke, and a fresh flood of tears cascaded down her cheeks. Her robe fell open, and Yvonne's eyes strayed down to her breasts.

"Good God, what's happened to you?" Instinctively the older woman put her hand out and touched the scratches and bruises on the smooth, firm white breasts. Then her face blanched. "Oh, no, don't tell me. Who was it?"

Suzanne looked away, flushing, her mind filled with confused thoughts.

"Come on, I know something's happened, and you look like you were raped by a regiment. Who was it, goddammit?"

Suzanne looked at Yvonne, and her lip trembled.

"It… it was that kid, Donald, you know. He and his brother and a colored boy. They all… they all…"

"Jesus Christ!"

Yvonne stood up and reached in her pocket for a cigarette, lit one and stood back, observing Suzanne. The cigarette trembled in her fingers, and her dark eyes were filled with anger.

"You want to talk about it?"

Suzanne nodded, sat up, and carefully related her experiences of the past two days, making sure to leave out nothing. When she had finished, Yvonne, who had walked to the window and was looking out, listening, turned to her and ground her cigarette in the ashtray.

"Well, there's not much you can do, I guess, except get the hell out of here," she said. "Those little bastards'll be back again, you know that. One thing: you're not staying here tonight. You come to our apartment. You can stay with me and Carole. You'll probably feel better with some decent company around."

She took Suzanne's hand and lifted her up. Suzanne rose and put her arms around Yvonne.

"Oh, Yvonne, I feel so dirty," she murmured. "They were so horrible, so mean."

"Oh, dear, I've just thought of something," said Yvonne. "Have you had a hot bath, and douched?"

Suzanne shook her head. "I just sat in the bathroom, trying to think," she replied. "I haven't done anything."

"Okay: first thing, you go lie in the bath for an hour, and douche real good. You sure as hell don't want to get pregnant at this stage of the game. You say they did come in you?"

Suzanne nodded. "Yes, they did. I could feel it shooting inside me and running out."

"You're not on the pill, I gather?"

Suzanne shook her head. "Why should I be? I've never done that with a guy before. I wanted to save myself for Sam. And now, oh, Yvonne, it's horrible."