The Dangers of Flirting With Other Men on Your Honeymoon
Chapter 3

Copyright© 2010 by Vulgus

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 3 - A young couple flies to Jamaica for their honeymoon. Things go terribly wrong on their second night on the island when the young bride spends most of the evening dancing with the wrong man. This is a dark story. There is love. But it is not a romance novel. If you do not enjoy this type of fiction please move on.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Ma/ft   mt/Fa   Fa/Fa   Fa/ft   Mult   NonConsensual   Rape   Coercion   Slavery   Heterosexual   Fiction   Incest   Mother   Daughter   BDSM   MaleDom   FemaleDom   Rough   Humiliation   Sadistic   Torture   Gang Bang   Interracial   Black Male   White Female   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Bestiality   Water Sports   Cream Pie   Spitting   Exhibitionism   Violence  

John stood up and sat in a chair beside Mac. He moved his chair closer, put his arm around my husband's shoulders as if they were good friends and said, "Hang in there, Mac. There is so much more of this exciting show."

He turned to one of his friends and said, "Cornell, would you mind taking over the camera. I think Radd is going to cum in his pants if he doesn't get his dick into Jess pretty soon."

There was a spate of derisive laughter. Cornell stood up and took the camera from Radd. He held it up to eye and began filming as Radd started tearing his clothes off.

I remained on my knees in front of Mac, hopeless, beyond struggling even to survive.

John leaned closer to Mac and said, "First she's going to suck us all off. Then we are going to take turns fucking her tight little pussy. Tell me Mac, have you ever fucked Jess in that cute little ass?"

I won't say that the question didn't terrify me. But I was so traumatized by then that I didn't react. I think that I was slipping into a semi conscious state as my mind's way of protecting itself from the horror of this night.

The operative word there was "semi." I remained conscious. But everything that happened after that, all the pain, all the horror, it all seemed like it was being filtered through a soft wall of cotton batten.

I still experienced all the pain and all the humiliation. The memories will remain seared in my brain for the rest of my life, if I should somehow survive this night. But that soft cottony wall came up around me when John turned me over to his five friends and the rapes continued until almost dawn.

I struggled to shut out the sounds of John's quiet play-by-play as he described everything that they did to me while Mac was unconscious. Once he brought Mac up to date he went on to describe what they were doing to me as it happened right at his feet. He carried on a one way discussion, a running commentary about everything that his friends did to me in gross detail and made certain that Mac never took his eyes away from the ongoing assault.

Radd took his place in front of me. I lifted my head and felt some small relief when I saw that his cock, though very large, was much smaller than John's. It was about eight inches long, longer than any other I came into contact with before I met John. And it was still thick enough to be scary. But it was nearly three inches shorter and looked slightly less threatening.

His cock was already hard, covered in slime and throbbing rapidly. I think that John must have been right. It looked like it wouldn't take very long to satisfy Radd. I hoped that was the case.

I knew what I had to do. But it was so hard to bring myself to traumatize my throat all over again. It took more will power than I was aware that I was capable of to lean forward and place my lips around the head of his cock.

He didn't torment me the way John had. He didn't kiss me or spit in my mouth. He didn't order me to lick his ass or his balls. He just stood there waiting for me to take his cock down my throat. Maybe he would get around to that other stuff later. Right now I guess he just wanted to cum in my mouth.

I began sucking on his cock. He sighed loudly when my mouth enveloped the top half of his hard cock. He didn't grab my head and begin fucking my throat. I put off the inevitable. I used my hand on the bottom of half of his cock the way I always did with Mac. But I knew he wouldn't settle for that. He would at least demand a sample of my newly acquired cocksucking skills.

As much as possible I devoted all of my attention to Radd's cock and the blowjob I was performing for him. I couldn't avoid it entirely, but I tried desperately not to hear John as he extolled my virtues as a newly trained cocksucker specializing in big, black cocks.

My husband's legs were always there in my field of vision. They were raping me right in front of him. He was close enough that I could have reached out and touched him. But I stared straight ahead. I didn't think that I would ever be able to look him in the eye again.

I screwed up my courage and began working more of Radd's cock into my mouth on each down stroke. It wasn't long before I felt the spongy knob at the top pressing against the back of my throat.

It hurt. And I knew that as soon as I tried to take it down my throat it was going to hurt much worse. But I also knew that he expected it and the penalty for not pleasing these men was not something I could face again.

I heard the fake excitement in his voice when John said, "Look, Mac! She's getting ready. She's going to take that thing down her throat. She's nervous. But she's gonna do it!"

I closed my ears again, struggling to shut him out of my consciousness. But he was right. On the next down stroke I kept going until the head of Radd's cock entered my throat.

The pain was every bit as bad as I imagined it would be. My eyes filled with tears but I kept going. I worked my lips down his shaft until they reached his pubic mound. I did that twice more before I let his cock slip from my throat and grabbed a couple of quick, panting breaths. Then I repeated the process. I wasn't able to keep it up through ten strokes the way John did when he fucked my throat. But I could handle six strokes between breaths and that seemed to satisfy Radd.

I was half way through sucking his cock, if this can be called cocksucking, before I realized that the pain had diminished to a bearable level. I was just getting over the shock of that realization when Radd thumped the top of my head and said, "Finish me off with your hand, bitch. I want to cum in your mouth."

I was happy to oblige. I pulled back until just the head of his cock was in my mouth. I sucked it gently and teased it with my tongue while rapidly masturbating him until his cock exploded in my mouth. I was forced to deal with a much larger volume of cum this time. John deposited most of his straight down my throat.

It was at that moment, just as I was about to try to swallow, that Cornell came in for a very intrusive close-up. I suddenly remembered John's instructions. I was supposed to open my mouth so that the camera could record the evidence of my shame.

I stared blankly into the lens and slowly opened my mouth so that everyone could see how much cum Radd deposited there. I stayed like that until Cornell quietly said, "Alright, bitch. Swallow."

I was pleasantly surprised to find that if I ignored the pain I could actually swallow. With a little pain and a lot of effort I was able to take the mouthful of slime right down my throat. I opened my mouth again to demonstrate that I swallowed it all, just as John had ordered.

Cornell stood up, handed the camera to one of the other men. I heard someone call the new cameraman by name, Sammy. There was nothing very Jamaican about his name but he was one of the only two men in the group who were no longer faking a local accent.

It seems that Sammy and Aray were the only two men that were actually Jamaican. From the things they said I got the impression that the other four have family here. They lived near each other in the States and traveled here together for a vacation.

They ended up finding a way to support themselves and staying on after their vacation ended. They didn't actually say what it was they did for a living now but I got the impression it wasn't honest work.

There was some sort of blood relationship between some of them but I wasn't paying that much attention and I didn't really care. I had more pressing problems than working out their genealogy.

Cornell began to undress while leering down at me. Somehow I knew that I wasn't going to have the relatively easy time of it that I did with Radd. There was something in Cornell's eyes that told me he was more like John. He was cruel. He hated me for no other reason than I'm a woman or maybe because I'm white. Or maybe he just wanted to make this as hard on me as he could for no other reason than that's what turns him on.

That last reason is probably most likely. These men had no reason to attack me. I was just a target of opportunity. Treating women the way they were treating me was just a game for them.

He proved me right immediately.

He stood in front of me and for a moment my concentration was disrupted. I accidently managed to overhear what John was saying to Mac. "Cornell is probably more like me than the other guys. They all like raping white women as much as I do. But for me and Cornell ... well, we take more pleasure in it.

"Our friends don't appreciate the nuances. They don't understand the thrill of fucking with a woman's mind. It's more exciting when you fuck with her head as well as her body. You want to be able to watch her eyes and see her change. That's the real excitement of raping white women.

"You break them down and turn them into pigs. You strip away their pride so there isn't anything they won't do. Cornell is a master when it comes to breaking white bitches. This should be interesting."

His words were terrifying. He's a despicable human being with an obviously very warped mind. But as horrifying as John's words were I didn't see how Cornell could abuse me any worse than John did. There was no doubt in my now very fragile mind that I sank as low as a woman possibly can while John was raping my mouth and torturing me with a cattle prod. I couldn't imagine how Cornell could be worse.

It took me a moment to work up the nerve to look at Cornell. To look at his cock and see what I was going to have to deal with next. His cock was about half hard. I was relieved to see that it looked no larger than the last cock to rape my mouth.

Cornell's leer seemed to morph into a pleasant, sympathetic smile. He leaned closer and as if he really cared he asked, "You've been having a pretty hard time of it, haven't you?"

I wasn't fooled.

In that same solicitous tone he asked, "I'll bet you're exhausted. Are you thirsty? Would you like a drink?"

I tried to croak a response but I still couldn't speak. My throat was still too traumatized. I swallowed with difficulty and shook my head. I didn't think it would matter. But I wasn't falling for his trick.

If he was disappointed he didn't show it. He patted my head as if I was a pet and said, "Think you're pretty smart, don't you, cunt? Maybe you were smart back in South Carolina. You're nothing but a cunt here. You survived John and you think the worst is over. You ain't seen nothing yet. We ain't even warmed up. You are going to do things this week that you never imagined, things you didn't even know people would do to a woman.

"Open your mouth and stick out your tongue."

I knew what that meant and my stomach turned over at the thought of it. But there was no way I was going to refuse these men. Not while they had those cattle prods. Not while Mac was tied up and they were beating him and cutting him.

The important thing now was just to survive. I just wanted to go back home and see if my marriage can be saved, as unlikely as that seems now.

I tilted my head back, groaned in pain and despair as I opened my mouth wide and stuck out my tongue as ordered.

Cornell was in no hurry. He kept me there in that uncomfortable and humiliating position while we stared into each other's eyes. He plumbed the depths of my despair while I explored the blackness of his monstrous soul, if it can be said that he has a soul.

I watched as he slowly worked up a big ball of spit in his mouth. The lens of the movie camera came in for an extreme close-up and Cornell chose that moment to spread his large lips and let go that disgusting glob of saliva.

Our eyes remained locked as that revolting mess succumbed to gravity and dropped in what looked to me like slow motion, taking forever to cover the six inches that separated our mouths.

I winced as it landed on my tongue. But I didn't move. I didn't pull away.

He grinned and said, "Good girl! You're learning."

Then he did it again. He did it twice more before he said, "I'll give you something else to drink later. You can swallow that now."

It was the idea of what he was making me do that was so disgusting. There was no repulsive taste. There was nothing tactile about what he made me do that turned my stomach. It was just something that you don't do to another human being.

Swallowing was still very painful. My stomach wanted to rebel. But I managed to swallow and remain relatively calm. Thinking back on it later, as I would be forced to do over and over, I would come to believe that it would have been a good idea to show a little more of my true feelings. I should have let my fear show. Remaining calm was a challenge to him.

His expression didn't change. He didn't look angry or upset. But as he straightened up John's words came back to me and I knew that Cornell was just getting started. He was probably going to try to make me suffer as much as his buddy John did.

I almost didn't survive being raped by John.

Cornell stared down at me for a moment. Then he smiled, turned and pulled a straight back chair over in front of where I was kneeling. He sat down and sighed loudly. He said to no one in particular, "It's been a long, hot evening. All that dancing in that warm club, I'm exhausted and my feet are killing me."

I hated it that he was toying with me like this. I just wanted him to order me to suck his cock and get this over with.

His mind didn't work that way. He stretched his legs out and wiggled his toes. He turned to look into Mac's eyes and said, "Jess, I think I know what would make me feel better. Bend down and give me a nice foot bath. Lick my feet all over, top and bottom. When you get them nice and clean you can suck on my toes for a while. I always find that so relaxing."

It isn't that I was going to refuse. I didn't dare to refuse. But in the seconds that I stared at him in shock a hand reached in and touched the tip of a cattle prod to Mac's testicles and pulled the trigger.

I screamed at them that I was going to do it. Or at least I tried to. I forgot that I had lost the power of speech. These were the first sounds I've been able to utter since John fucked my throat. It sounded like I had a terrible speech impediment.

But it didn't matter. I was only half way through the sentence when someone pressed a prod up between my legs and fired it off.

I don't think I blacked out this time. I seem to remember every horrible, second of pain beyond belief. My body quivered for several long seconds and I gasped for breath. My legs were useless to me. They twitched and quivered and they absolutely refused to obey signals from my brain.

They all stared at me with amused smiles on their faces, waiting for me to recover. It looked like Mac had passed out again. His entire body was quivering. His head was slumped forward and drool was leaking out around the nasty gag they stuck in his mouth. As I watched, though, he began to stir and slowly lift his head.

Our eyes met for a few seconds. But we couldn't bear to look at each other. Not now. Not while this was going on. I could only pray that when it was over, if it was ever over, we would be able to work through this.

There was finally a moment when I seemed to suddenly regain the use of my muscles. I didn't stop twitching completely. But I was able to gather my arms and legs and get back up on my hands and knees.

Cornell relaxed in front of me, smiling and enjoying the show as I forced my face down to his right foot. I started at the ankle and began to bathe the top of his foot. I was just getting started when he said, "Open your eyes, Jess. Look at me. Look at my face. You won't get the full benefit of this if you don't see how much I enjoy what you are doing."

I looked in the general direction of his face. My tears were streaming down my cheeks again and I couldn't actually see him. He was just a blur. I could picture the look on his face, though.

I moved my tongue over every inch of his foot. It was a degrading, humiliating thing to do but it probably wasn't as nasty as it sounds. Like nearly everyone else on the island he had been wearing sandals. His feet didn't smell. They weren't hot and sweaty. We were near the beach and sand was a problem. As distasteful as it was to be lapping grains of sand from his flesh I have already done worse things this evening and they were just getting started.

I cleaned the top of his foot thoroughly before I attempted to lift his foot so that I could attend to the soul. In a patient, but very amused voice he said, "No, Jess. No hands. Lean down there and work your face under my foot. I'm comfortable just as I am."

It didn't matter. This couldn't be any more disgusting or any more demeaning. I wedged my face under his foot and spent several minutes licking up the few grains of sand that clung to the bottom of his foot.

Leaving his toes for later as ordered, I turned my attention to his left foot and repeated the demeaning process. I suppose that it wasn't as awful as it sounds. I couldn't taste anything. His feet were reasonably clean. The hardest part was that my tongue and my jaw were already trembling from the strain of the previous oral rapes and my neck and shoulders were becoming sore from straining to remain in unnatural positions to please him in this disgusting way.

By the time I finally finished bathing his feet and began to suck on his toes, some of the others must have been getting bored. Someone finished his beer and worked the neck of the bottle into my vagina from behind. Whoever it was began trying to force it in farther but John stopped him.

"Don't stretch that tight cunt out! I want to do that with my cock. After we've all fucked her you can play around with her if you want."

I was relieved when the attempt to work the bottle into me ended. But the bottle remained where it was, embedded in my dry pussy and pulling uncomfortably at my sensitive flesh.

My main attention remained centered on Cornell's feet. I sucked each toe like a little cock, working around and in between them with my tongue. I wasn't enjoying it, of course. But I was conscious of the fact that this was just foreplay. Licking his feet was easier than what I've been doing, and what I was going to be doing.

The tears seemed to run out after a while. My vision began to clear and I was able to see the cruel smile on his face as I sucked his toes. It was becoming increasingly obvious to me that these men have done this before to other women. Not so often that they were jaded. They clearly enjoyed it very much. But they didn't have to discuss what they were going to do. And they came prepared with cattle prods and a movie camera.

No one was complaining to Cornell about how much time he was spending making me bathe his feet while they waited for their turn to fuck my mouth. They must have known he was going to make me do this. Either that or they were afraid of him because he was crazier than anyone else except the one with the knife.

 
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