Chapter 10

The return to the dungeon was different this time. Gerault had thrust her clothes at her-minus the torn bra and panties-and told her to dress. There was no time to clean up. He let her stop just long enough to urinate in the bidet, then pulled her off and forced her down the hall to the stairs.

She could walk only with difficulty, and going down the steps was a painful ordeal. When she had been shackled in place, the Frenchman unlocked Tommy and shoved him toward the stairs. As the boy began the upward climb, Gerault leered at Fleming over his shoulder, and spoke as he followed Tommy on the stairs.

"Madame has been well-fucked for you, Monsieur-at front and back doors. Later we will bring her up and give her something to eat. A lot of meat and a little gravy!" He laughed maniacally as he disappeared through the stairwell, and the door closed in the middle of his mad gurgles.

"God! Ann, I'm so sorry for you. I'm such a dumb sonovabitch for getting us into this mess! If I could just get my hands on that sadistic bastard for ten seconds!"

"Don't} Chuck! It won't help to berate yourself. And don't feel so bad about me. After all, I'll heal up. We have to keep our minds occupied with planning and scheming. We don't have time for recriminations and worrying about individual problems. There's only the one problem-getting loose, somehow!"

"I know. You're right, Ann. If only Tommy can get that last lock picked, we'll stand a chance."

"Mother," Darla said, "it might help to know that you'll stop hurting sooner than you expect to."

"Darla! Do you mean that you were... that they..."

"Yes. Le Boeuf got me from the back, too. It hurt like anything, but it's not so bad now. Although it burns for a while, every time I... I mean... I think I'm going to eat awfully light for a few days, to ease any additional problems."

"You poor kid!" Fleming groaned. "These mania^s all ought to be killed. They're a menace to the whole damned world!"

"I wonder how poor Tommy's making it," Ann said.

Tommy wasn't making it as well as he might.

He was flat on his back on the sofa-bed, and Yvette's mouth was working on him. She'd started on his belly, worked her way juicily down to his thighs, then back up to his slowly responding genitals.

She's a filthy animal, but she sure knows how to stir a guy! That tongue of hers must be twice as long as normal, and it maneuvers about like an anteater's! He felt it swirl around the end of his organ and then seesaw across the tip like a fleshy file. Damn! That tickled and hurt at the same time.

Then she had the greater part of him in her mouth, and began to strip it in long strokes, sucking deeply each time she neared the tip. Oh, God! That crazy Bruce Bowers and his story about the milking machine! It couldn't hare been any worse than this! Nothing could be worse. I can't stand it! But there was worse to come!

Yvette pulled her dirty skirt up around her middle and swung her unbathed body onto the bed until her legs straddled Tommy's chest. She hadn't let go the captive flesh with her mouth for a second! Then she backed herself into position and shoved her hairy bush into Tommy's face. The smell was overpowering!

Was it only two days ago that he had found himself surprised by his enjoyment of the faintly pissy, musk like scent he'd discovered between his mother's legs? Somehow, he reasoned, that had seemed a healthy male reaction.

But nobody could be attracted by this! The red wetness suspended over his face was dripping with the girl's excitement, and the drops struck him on the nose and mouth. Then she lowered it on target! The wet heat of her flesh smothered him. He rolled his face away and spat at the wall.

Then his right hand was grabbed, and Gerault's glowing cigarette t p was pressed against his wrist! He yowled loudly before he could close his mouth. He hated showing his pain.

"You will cooperate with Yvette, or you will be a mass of blisters when we take you back downstairs!" the Frenchman promised.

Tommy wondered which he could stand the longest-the burning or the sickening flesh in his mouth. He tried to think clearly through the smarting pain on his wrist. He had to stay in condition so he'd be able to help with an escape. He'd have to force himself to do whatever they ordered-for now. But if he got half a chance, he'd make them pay for it!

The slimy flesh pressed again to his mouth, and he nibbled at it halfheartedly. She rotated her hips, making the wet meat move on his mouth. When the surprisingly long, hard bud of her passion had rubbed up against his lips, she held it there and wiggled to massage it against him.

"Lick it Tom-mee! Suck it for me!" the said, removing her own mouth from ham just long enough to get out the words. The initial shock of her odor and wetness at his face had softened his manhood, but now she was awakening it again. As it stiffened in her mouth, he tongued her and sucked at the small fleshling between his lips.

She was humming as he treated her, and the vibration of the sound seemed to act like a tiny electric massager as her humming lips encircled him. The rhythm of her oral movements became faster, and he tingled all over as she seemed to pull at his nerve centers.

He could tell that she was getting more excited, too. The juices flowed liberally from her large, open gap, and she was wiggling in the same fast tempo as she was using at the other end. Then she lifted her head to yell at him

"Stick it in me! Put your tongue in me, deep! Quick!"

He reluctantly thrust his tongue into her sloppy passage, and it seemed to suck and swallow at him. Then he felt it go into her until his teeth were pressed roughly against the fleshy outer lips of her canyon, and she wriggled excitedly, frictioning snugly on his lower lip and chin.

Then he was spurting his soul out through his loins, and Yvette was pumping at him hungrily, sucking at his tip with each stroke, until he felt completely drained. But still she wouldn't stop. She pulled and sucked at him until he thought he'd go mad. When he could take it no longer, he risked another cigarette burn. He bit her as hard as he could on a fleshy, swollen lip of her womanhood.

She let go of him and rolled off, laughing with glee.

"I take more than you have to give, non? Even a healthy young man like you will have to have a rest before you can make enough to feed me again! But I am better than you. Even now I am ready for you to suck me so nice some more. Can he, Jean?" She turned to look at Gerault pleadingly.

"Later. Le Beouf, take him down and bring up Papa."

"Just one minute, Jean. Please?" Before Tommy could get up, she rolled him over on his belly and parted his buttocks with her fingers. Then her tongue dug into his anus and wiggled hotly. It was a wild sensation! But the thought of what she was doing made him nauseous.

She probed and licked at him, washing the ring of his exit until he groaned with the unexpected ecstasy of it. Then she let him go, again laughing happily.

The Moroccan motioned at him, and he went back to the cellar, after slipping into his clothes.

"The blister on my wrist... do you hare to use the cuff? I can't go anywhere with the other three locked." Tommy's pulse beat swiftly as he awaited the Moroccan's reaction.

Then Le Boeuf nodded, slowly, as he locked only the three shackles. When Fleming was released, he winked surreptitiously at Tommy as he turned to precede Le Boeuf up the stairs.

As he was herded into the living room, which had remained the base of operations, for some reason- even though the light was not essential in the absence of the camera-Fleming saw the gleaming eyes of Yvette boring into him.

As he started to strip on Gerault's command, the girl peeled off her dirty skirt and blouse. For the first time, he saw that she was really a pretty girl with a terrific figure.

But when she threw her naked body on him, the brief admiration was dissolved by the scent of her unwashed skin. She forced a hard breast against his mouth, cupping the globe with one hand as she tried to maneuver the nipple tip between his lips.

"Tom-mee, he suck me good! You 'have more experience, nor?"

The revulsion rose up in his throat, and he swallowed, hard. But his lips did not open. Gerault's cigarette tip against his left buttock made them open as he gasped, but his teeth were clamped together in agony. Nevertheless, Yvette had wig gled the rising tip of her nipple between his lips, and was cooing in his ear.