Chapter 8

Christabel came continuously. Fountains of foam frothed over her fecund froufrou. Mount Venus ran with rivulets of cuntjuices into the dank delta of the fertile crescent.

Yancey tipped the nib of his penis from Christabel's quim. The glans was festooned with cuntcome from the crown to the root. Now that he was lubed, Yancey planned the next moves.

He'd break it to her gently.

Then get tough.

After Christabel was all juiced up from forcefucked bitchrut, Yancey would Frenchfuck Christabel. Give her hell.

Christabel's nakedness whipped, warped over the sides of his fountain. Climax to the ritual of belted bitchbinding. The ultimate kindness.

For Christabel wanted to reign as cuntqueen of belts. Mistress of welts.

And she evidently thought she should be so honored for the sake of her wild beauty and ravening fucksuck alone.

But vain novices like Christabel had a lot to learn. One wasn't simply bestowed the belt in accord with one's whim.

That prize had to be earned.

"What do you mean—earn?" Christabel said, shedding her final wash of orgasmic sweat.

"I mean, I thought I could buy one. You know—figured I'd have to bargain a little bit and all that—"

"Shut your fucking trap," Belladonna said. She slugged Christabel upside the head with a sap.

"No problem there," Christabel said.

"I got plenty mazuma. You got the belts."

Wap!

Belladonna gave another slap as Christabel fought back.

"Ow!"

Belladonna jammed Christabel's lower jaw upward. Choppers clinked.

Christabel's eyes squinted.

Blinked.

Tears slinked down the sides of her facecheeks.

"Got the bit, Buster?" Belladonna blared.

"This beast needs to be muzzled. Bridled."

She turned to Christabel.

Sneered.

"Hope you're not scared."

"What is this?" Christabel brayed.

Buster shoved his thumb and fingers between Christabel's jaws. Broke the clench of her lip. Slid the metal tongue between her teeth.

"There, there," Lucrezia said, patting Christabel's sweat-strewn flanks.

She gave Christabel's pussyfuzz a yank.

"Nnh."

Tore hair out in hanks.

"Thanks."

Dominique took a tittie.

Gave it a crank.

"Agha!"

Lucrezia held Christabel by her mane. Dorrtinique reined Christabel's head lower, working the bridle.

Meanwhile, the men were not idle.

Buster bit Belladonna.

Yancey was on her.

"Give me some hump," Christabel sniggered through her bridled muzzle. Dominique pushed her pussy into Christabel's face. Christabel champed at the bit. Yammered upon Dominique's clit.

Churlish lips snarled. Tongue lassoed lassie lace layered over labia.

Christabel's asterisk itched. Oral appendage apprehended Christabel's hinders. Lucrezia trimmed the brim with lizard tail limn. Stretched out the crinkled wrinkle like a rubber rim.

Lucrezia licked liquid circles about Christabel's bickering asshole. Anus opened wide like the eye of a fish. Ampersand twitched as tongue slid in.

"Mouth-to-ass resuscitation," Christabel chewed.

"I always thought women having sex with women was about as sick as you could get."

"It is," Belladonna assured, in the midst of being skewered.

"But I always say that good sex is like good food."

Christabel giggled.

"Oh, puke me out, filly. Why doncha pass me the barfbag while I gag?"

"That's right, you slit-smothered cut-mad snit," Belladonna upchucked.

"The most refined culinary delicacies of the world make commoners vomit. Exquisite sex is the same thing."

Fresh from Belladonna's ass, Yancey closed in fast.

"Speaking of which—" he said as Christabel threw a fist. Yancey slapped Christabel's head with coiled garotte. Cropped the line of her jaw with the side of his palm. Slipped the bit and bridle from her jowl.

He searched her eyes for emotion.

Found not a trace.

Christabel spat in his face.

"Frisky," he said.

Christabel dove again into the foaming surf.

Muff-dove in droves of wavy fur.

Freed from the restraint of the bit, Christabel was ready to feed indeed.

"Time for the next course," Yancey chuckled.

He tapped the throbbing crown of his King Kong dingdong.

Then could not resist hanging his banger for a few more ruts in Belladonna's bum.

"Ngh. Eaugh. Unh."

Yancey next yanked his twanger from between Belladonna's buns. Dingdong gleaming, teeming with the dense blood of erection.

He waved his kingly scepter by the corona.

Ogle-eyed Christabel's maw at work.

Mincing womanflesh.

Salivating on the slick seam between Dominique's spattering jimjam and yawning blowhole.

Wriggling her fanny as Lucrezia reamed her with twisted fingers. Christabel cackled, asscrack corked by packed phalanges.

Lips loaded with blubbering labia.

"Anybody here want a belt?" Yancey drawled. Somebody say something about a belt?"

Christabel went fuckblind.

Whiteness pervaded her sight. Rush of orgasmic blood coursed through her ears like the swoon of a waterfall. If she got the belt—any belt, she now felt—she'd have it all.

Buster bounded by with his arms wrapped in serpentines of twisted leather twine, beads, chased silver, brass, amethyst, and jade. He raised his wrists above his face.

The belts dangled from his fists.

Strands of precious beads slinking, Dominique unwound the belt of Ixtab from Buster's left shoulder. She draped it diagonally through the center vale of her boobs.

Plopped a jade bead into her yip.

Lucrezia lofted the shining belt of Ixchel from Buster's outstretched hand.

Placed the bejeweled ornamentation of the buckle over her beaver pelt.

Pressed in rudely to nip her clit.

Dominique swung the cat-of-many-tailed garotte belt about her head. Pitched it in a wobbling arc through the air. Belladonna snatched it on her fingernails and brought it to her breast.

Lucrezia unsnared the rainbow cinch from her waist. Placed it at the base of Yancey's blazing pecker. Yancey ran the ridged leather up over his rippled belly. Probed his batlocks and prowler with his paws.

Brought the barrel of his doug in line with Christabel's jaws.

Paused.

Aimed his twanger at her maw.

Ooooohs.

Aaaaahs.

"Oila!"

"Gee," Christabel snarled.

"This is fun, so far. What's next?"

Belladonna stuck a reefer into the side of her yip and bit down on it.

Took a hit.

Stalked toward Christabel.

Sidled beside her.

Snapped the cindering stick from her yap.

Pressed the roach out on her tit.

"Shit!"

Fuming flesh.

Inflamed nipple.

Burning soul.

"You gotta do more than fuck for it, Christabel.

"Belladonna," Christabel said with astonishment.

"You set this whole fucking thing up, didn't you? You sent me off on a goosechase to Casanegra to make contact with these depraved motherfuckers. Supposedly in order to lead me to Florencita and Chivito—and the belt."

"No shit, Dick Tracy," Belladonna snickered.

"Then you fucked it around so that Chivito pulled a raid and—"

"Well, Christabel. After all the work I put into this caper. I must admit, however, that the research I did for you at the request of Doctor Sandor Kroughleigh first gave me the idea—the least! could do was put you onto the right trail—"

"You diverted me. Went straight to the source. Devil-damned cuntsucking fatherfucking muttrutbitch."

"Besides. I figured that if you were a good girl you might get a taste of the other famed lash from our friend Yancey."

Christabel pressed her tongue against her front teeth. She parted her lips.

Sent a stream of saliva through the air like a viper shooting venom.

Sputum glanced off Belladonna's eyeslits. Spittle sprinkled her nostrils.

Belladonna licked Christabel's spit from her lips.

Spat right back.

Smack in the yap.

"How do you like that?"

"Just give me the belt."

"Say, pretty please. Or else I'll just tease."

"I won't."

"Then I won't."

"But you want to. You want to give it to me so hard you can't stand it. Both you and Yancey have those fucking belts. And you brought me here so you could fuck me with them."

"We'll see. Just how far can you go? You might think you've come a long way, baby. Well, you've got many rivers run across before you deserve to possess one of these things."

"Give her the Ixtab, Belladonna?" Yancey said.

"Or start with the rainbow dance?"

"I think I'll go first," Belladonna said.

Smirk nicked the corners of her mouth.

She strung the belt out.

Separated its strands.

Wet them in her maw.

Christabel gaped in awe.

Belladonna wafted a bone dart with gemstone tip that dangled from one of the belt's beaded strands. Lanced into the gap of Christabel's snatch.

She was next at Christabel with her thumbs. Another strand of the stranglecord was wadded up Christabel's bum.

Christabel's fanny burped on over each bead as Belladonna threaded the length deeper into Christabel's innards.

Belladonna shivered as the yummy asshole rubbed squeakily over her thumbs.

She popped her digits from Christabel's pooper and applied them to her lips. Slicked the fingers, dipped them into her own slit.

Hit her mitts over Christabel's tits.

Belladonna inserted her fetid fingers into Christabel's maw. Felt the movement of jaw. Pressed in with her paw.

Scraped tongue with her claws.

Curled her phalanges.

Pistoned her wrist.

Fucked Christabel's mouth with her fist.