Chapter 32

The long heated probe seemed to press against the far reaches of her womb while searing pain leapt across her nerve endings making her dizzy with the struggle against it. His voice kept on at her, amused and sadistic. "Look at my fucking slave jiggle," he chuckled, his ebony features tainted with an almost jovial sneer. He taunted her with vows of calling some prison guards to watch her being raped by the probe until Carol's tears streamed across her cheeks at the sheer humiliation this man was subjecting her to.

He had tied her thighs apart and the thick coarse ropes had burrowed deep into her flesh, trickles of blood running down her legs to pool about her bare feet. Carol no longer screamed with the absolute terror of what he was doing to her for her moans were now pitiful, almost inhuman as again he pressed the heated probe into her body. Then, with a sudden jerk, it was withdrawn. The officer stood back, rivulets of sweat oozing across his flat nosed face, his breathing raging as if he had run a marathon. And all the while his hand pumped wildly at his swollen erection. "Bitch!" he cursed at her as spurts of his cum shot from the engorged purple head of his elephantine cock and gobs of the thick, white cream splattered across her face, smattering down her breasts before sliding down her stomach with a slow, almost bizarre motion to mix and blend with her blood on her soaking thighs.

"Fucking amazing," was all the cruel officer could say as he stroked his semi rigid penis in front of Carol. Her eyes were glazed, like a terrified rabbit before the hound while her mind struggled to comprehend just exactly what she had just endured. He left Carol then, broken and beaten, sobbing uncontrollably alone in the small room, the passage of time marked by the slow shift of the shadows that streaked across the floor. Carol was thirsty, her lips dry and cracked from her impassioned screams. She could feel the semen drying upon her breasts and stomach, her legs numb from the tightness of the ropes but shifting to ease her pain only began the cacophony of hurt again. Her mind raced, "Best to remain still, " she swiftly concluded. "He will come back, he has to," was all she could whisper to the empty room. She began to daydream, to let her tortured body be at ease and as Carol began to wander through the rooms of her subconscious, she recalled the warmth of previous lover's caresses, their hands running gently across her inner thigh. She imagined the coolness of their tongue as they played lightly across her clit and she could almost feel the gentle parting of her full pussy lips and the insistent stroking upon her erect bud. Hearing a sound, Carol's eyes snapped open to find the officer standing before her with an almost pleasant expression upon his face. The recollections of the peasant sensation of gentle tongues flicking across her clit still held her as if in the grip of a daydream, but his deep, baritone voice rumbled far into her brain. "Whore, you seem to like being eaten by my other slave..."

Jerking fully awake, Carol felt the calloused fingers of a young woman gliding up and down along her inner thighs. The girl appear to her to be no more than seventeen years old, her short tightly curled hair cropped close to her skull in the traditional manner in this African state. The prison uniform she wore did nothing for her complexion and when the girl's eye lifted to her they were of the palest brown that was tinged with just a hint of yellow and in that moment Carol felt her heart tear. For within the depths of the young girl's soul emanated nothing but sorrow and surrender. "Cunt! Lick fast" the brutal man cuffed the young girl fiercely across her ear. Forcing her face deeper into Carol's abused pussy, the terrified girl hurried to comply. The youngster's tongue was heaven, licking and probing into the ravaged depths of Carol's sore tender cunt while the slave's fingers seemed to dance across the ropes sending shivers of delight through the white woman's body. A short distanced away, the tormentor of both the females stood like a sentinel, surveying the scene before him, his hand playing half forgotten music across his cock. In a moment of lucid thought, Carol was struck by the surreal idea that this man's penis must be always semi hard.

"Twat licker lover," the man spat at Carol, one giant hand tugging on his huge erection, the other grasping her hair and jerking back her head. "Suck me cunt," he snarled as he forced his turgid cock deep into her mouth. Carol choked and gagged as the entire length of his member pressed against the back of her throat, his hand tightening his grip on a huge chunk of her hair, twisting it sharply and forcing her to scream in silent protest.

Carol was soaked in cum and blood, her pussy was red raw with the abuse of this sadistic man. But deep within she felt the passion and need of her body struggle to come to the surface as the young girl lapped lovingly at her clit. Rolling her tongue over and around the pink engorged nub, the girl's tongue pushed back Carol's hood as she suckled and nibbled.

Carol gasped and gagged repeatedly upon the monster cock that was slamming against the back of her throat. Yet right in that instant all she could feel, all she could sense was the gentle licking and slurping of her cunt juices by the girl kneeling between her blood stained thighs. "Fucking good little cocksucking whore cunt," their captor growled, tensing as he slammed his dick deeper into the open throat of the struggling European, his own pleasure the only thing on his mind as Carol's lips stretched to take the girth of his erection. His cum shot hot and sticky down into her stomach as Carol struggled to contain the volume of his spunk in her mouth as, with a final lick on her clit by the black girl, she erupted into a mind numbing orgasm of her own.

Carol awoke laid out on the coarse mattress of her bunk. Each and every muscle of her body screamed in violent protest as she tried to move and even in the dim light of her cell she could see the splashes of livid purple upon her thighs from the ropes that had held her. She trembled in fear, knowing that her torment had only just begun. It might be only for a short time but, for these moments, she had become this cruel man's fuck slave. As she drifted into a dreamless sleep, two thoughts came unbidden into her mind, the former pleasant, the latter not so. "Soon" she promised the lonely room, "soon I will go home." And then the second thought... but what if the man simply did not put her on the plane? Who would be any the wiser? Who would care?

German film director Klaus Vohn had decided to give Samantha a day to recover following the filming of the scene where she had been ravaged by some dogs. The poor Englishwoman had clearly been badly affected by the experience and Klaus didn't want to push the inexperience girl too hard. Having come to this conclusion, he decided to use his other female 'star', Bridget von Bismark, and to shoot a few scenes with her... and, since it was raining hard, the entire crew had moved into one of the dilapidated farm buildings for an interior shot. On the other side of the room, Hans was busy helping already naked Bridget into a wooden pillory so that her wrists were trapped on either side of her neck. Before her was a wooden table on which were stood three black, plastic dildos, each one thicker than its previous neighbour.

"Very well, Bridget, I want you to rehearse..."

"Rehearse?" broke in the trapped woman. "You make it sound like we're producing a real film here and not just a porno movie!"

Some of the crew chuckled but they were quickly silenced by the dirty looks that the director threw at them. "Maybe that it the trouble with you all, eh?" Klaus asked. "Maybe that's why you're all out here in the middle of the Black Forest, freezing your balls, off instead of earning a fortune in Hollywood? Ever thought of that? At least, let's put on a pretense of being professional. Now, Bridget, lean forward at the waist... that's right... and slip your mouth over the first dildo..."

"Hey, boss," called Bridget as she paused, her mouth an inch or so about the plastic before she straightened up again. "This medieval neck collar weights a whole load... it's not easy to bend down with it round your neck."

"Ach, we all have to suffer for our art, nein? Now get on with it, gott dammen!"

Shrugging her shoulders as best she could, Bridget moved to follow Klaus' directions and soon enveloped the first dildo with her lips, effortlessly accommodating its entire length down her throat. "Nein, nein!" yelled Klaus. "Look, woman, it's supposed to be hard to do. We all know that you're really a slut whole's given more blow-jobs than Linda Lovelace, but you are supposed to make it appear erotic. Go down on it slowly... struggle... make it hard... make the audience hard. Do it again."

Sighing, Bridget did as she had been instructed, easing the thing into her mouth a centimetre at a time, backing off a little occasionally before starting afresh. Once she had completed the manoeuver with the first, she pressed onto the second, and then the third, making each appear to be more of a struggle than the one previous.

"Very good, Bridget. Now, take five and then we go for the shot. Ah, Sammy... I see that you've joined us. Come to watch and learn?"

Samantha stood off to one side, her arms crossed over her chest, her feet shuffling continuously on the concrete floor, her eyes everywhere but on the director. "I'm sorry to bother you when you're so busy..." she whispered hoarsely, her tongue flicking out to moisten her dry and cracking lips.