Chapter 2

The Moroccan was standing at the foot of the bed, and his tongue was moistening his lips as he looked down on her golden body with its two forests of golden hair and two mountains with pink-capped peaks. A little trickle of saliva escaped his lips and ran down his chin. He wiped at it with a giant hand, not taking his eyes off the vision of beauty.

"Come on, Le Boeuf," said Gerault. "It's time for you to open this lovely package!" She rolled her head on the pillow to look at the smaller man. He was grinning in anticipation at whatever was to follow. The Moroccan was naked to the waist when she looked back at him. He was fumbling with his trousers, then they fell down, taking with them the man's undershorts, if he had been wearing any. For she saw with horror the hugeness and the grandeur of the man as God had made him. She gasped in awe and fright.

From the dark loins, where a heavy forest of hair was curled, sprouted a fleshy appendage of mammoth proportions. She imagined that brutal assault weapon at her vulnerable vagina and grew faint. She had known pain when using a single finger to gratify her own desires, and this was as big around as four fingers, and God knew how long!

"You can't! My God! It'll kill me! I'm a virgin; you know that."

Gerault laughed so hard that he bent over almost double.

"Show her, Yvette," he said, when he caught his breath. Darla hadn't noticed the girl entering the room. Now she saw her standing in the doorway, carrying an instant-copy camera by its strap.

Yvette strolled calmly over to the foot of the bed where Darla could see easily. Then she lifted a leg and placed it so that the spiked heel of her shoe was against the upper rail of the iron bedstead. Still lugging the camera, she used the other hand to lift her skirt high, and Darla could see that the girl wore nothing under it. The stretched thigh pulled at the surrounding tissue, and the heavy lips of the girl's vulva were wide open, showing the parted inner cleft and the vaginal opening. "Go ahead, Le Boeuf," Gerault commanded. The Moroccan moved pivoting on one foot, and laid the heavy, purple heed of his weapon against the wet meat of the girl's opening. He shoved slowly, and Carla watched in horrified fascination as the gigantic rod was engulfed by the previously normal-appearing opening. But as the shaft moved in deeper, Yvette grunted audibly, and her eyes grew large. Her tongue slipped out to moisten suddenly dry lips.

Darla could tell that this girl, who obviously had been stretched before by the same weapon-she had shown no fright when faced with it-yet was affected by its size. If anything, the demonstration had served to add to Darla's fear and horror.

Oh, God! I wanted a cock in me, but not one like that! I think I'd rather stay a virgin forever! She tried to shrink back into the bed, praying for it to swallow her up smother her to death. Anything would be preferable to what threatened her now.

Then the Moroccan was kneeling on the bed between her legs. His weapon looked even bigger, now, as it neared her. I wanted to take a cock into my mouth, too. But that would make a meal for a lion! Gerault had pulled the pillow from under her head, and now he forced it under her hips, doubled, making them thrust upward toward the black invader that was poised over her belly.

She was vaguely aware of Yvette moving nearer, aiming the camera at the bed, then clicking the shutter. Thank God! Maybe they only need the horror of a shot like this to shock Daddy Chuck into changing his mind. But she knew, even as the thought came, that she wasn't to get off that easily.

The tip of the hard shaft was lying in the cleft of her moist canyon, and the black face hovered over her own as the Moroccan leaned down to speak to her.

"I tell you this to help you, Mademoiselle Darla. It will not be as difficult for you if you try to want me. Try to wish this thing inside of you. Your body will not fight it as much, and you will have less damage. Understand?" He looked into her eyes, and she could tell that he was not in favor of causing her pain. His brown eyes seemed to reflect a pain of his own.

"Oui, je comprend. Merci." She acknowledged with thanks. Perhaps he could lessen the pain. Then it began. Oh, God! How it began!

It felt as though she was being torn asunder in a hundred different directions. They could have achieved the same feeling with a hand grenade, she imagined. Then she realized she was fighting it, and tried to reverse her muscles. It was impossible. To get to the point where she could will the damned thing to be inside her, she would first have to relax. My God, I can't relax when I'm being torn apart!

Then the black hands were on her breasts, caressing them, kneading the nipples to full erection, gently massaging their sponginess between the dark fingers. She felt herself tingling, becoming impassioned in spite of the pain, and then his hands were squeezing both nipples firmly, and she started to moan her involvement.

The burning sensation just inside the entrance to her tender passage had not increased, but it was a constant reminder of the camel which was straining to get through the eye of the needle. She gasped her need for air, and gulped some into her lungs. Then the kneading hands were replaced by the moistness of a hot mouth, and she felt nipple, aureole, and a large part of the firm mound itself being drawn into the hungry mouth.

She gasped at the sensation, and her throat opened to moan her surprised delight. Then she felt the ripping-tearing- spreading pain of the fleshy instrument which bore into her tender depths

It's tearing my cunt apart! It's plunging right into my guts like a giant knife. She almost couldn't bear the pain, but as she started to pass out, she felt the delicious sensation of his massaging lips and tongue on her breasts, and she tarried just a second to savor the feeling. Then the pain in her depths lessened, and she thought she might be able to stand it.

Until the pulsing started. The head of the big shaft was now pressing snugly against her innermost defenses, and when it swelled within her, stretching the tender passage in throbbing pulses, she thought she was going to be sick. The hurtful spasms brought her to the borderline of extreme nausea several Ames, and then it began to feel almost good.

Her body was moving without her willing it to motion; the suction of the hungry mouth on her breast and the pressure of the black padded pelvis against her hard, wet bud carried her past the pain of the gross invader's violation. Her hips thrust upward, and she could feel the rope tension on her ankles as her heels sank into the bed. The Moroccan began to stroke into her depths, pulling the now slippery shaft almost out of its fleshy scabbard, then sinking it again to the hilt. Darla could feel the hairy luggage of the invader as it slapped with a wet smack against her buttocks and crotch. The tingling tremors which were running through her body carried her back once more to the night by the swimming pool, and her passion tripped the memory banks as the black flesh plunged into her.

"Fuck me deep, Daddy! Stick it in hard! My cunt's starved! " She heard her own voice with surprise, and it shocked her, but the intensity of her feelings was so great she couldn't control herself. As it became even more intense, she heard herself cry out again.

"Squirt it in me! Now! Ohhhh!" Then the roller coaster took her up, up, clear to the top of an unbelievable peak, and as she started to fall, she felt the pumping, squirting streams of warm liquid splash into the tender walls of her being.

She fell a long way, and then floated softly in a fuzzy cloud. When she opened her eyes, the Moroccan was leaning back from her, and the black flesh of his rod was retreating from her passage. As it came all the way out, she watched the purplish head appear, trailing strings of white, sticky semen behind it.

The side of the dark sword were streaked with blood, and she knew why as the burning sensation returned to her torn tissues. Her breathing was a labored panting, and it seemed as if she'd never get enough air. She gasped deeply, and felt her lungs start to fill normally again.

The dark lance was bent, curving downward in a tired arc, the purple head resting on the sheet in a little pool of liquid white that gleamed in the morning sun which came in the barred window.

"Yvette! Make Le Boeuf ready again!" Gerault commanded.

The brunette had been doing something at the dresser. When she moved away from it, Darla could see several curved photos lying on top of the dirty wood. The girl came over to the bed and kneeled on the edge, then leaned over Darla's thigh and placed her mouth on the black shaft. With a sideways movement of her head, she stroked the dark length, using lips and tongue, until the dormant rod began to stir slightly.

When the purplish-red head lifted off the sheet, Yvette took it into her mouth and began to rotate her head, working the fleshy tip between her teeth, then snaking out her tongue to lash around the coronal ridge, first clockwise, then counterclockwise. Darla, hearing the wet sounds as Yvette sucked in the remnants of semen, felt truly nauseous. Then the tongue slipped down and stroked the side of the shaft again, cleaning off the streaks of white and red from the dark skin.

Darla fought to keep from getting sick. She knew she would get herself covered with it, and have to lie in it. She forced herself to think of other things, but then she saw the great shaft swell into its former size and hardness, and Yvette gave it a last sucking tug, then slid off the bed.

Le Boeuf leaned over her, and the big meaty stick lay snugly in the canyon formed by her swollen lips. His mouth again sought her breasts, and soon she was inescapably caught up in her passion once more. He was moving the hardness slowly against her excitable surfaces while his hands and mouth worked at her breasts.

She began to moan and move under him, as the burning sensation was gradually dwarfed by the mounting feelings from within. Then both hands were on her breasts, and the Moroccan's mouth was pressed to hers.

As her lips opened to gasp, his tongue entered and plunged around inside, teasing her lips and toying with her tongue, until she could not remain passive Her pink tongue pushed out to fence with his, and he drank deeply of her warm, sweet juices, then sucked her hot tongue until she shivered in ecstasy.