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From: hnh@juno.com
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Re: Mafia (nc, s/m, b/d, racism, bad stuff)
Date: Mon, 14 Apr 1997 05:21:38 GMT
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On Sun, 23 Mar 1997 23:38:16 GMT, badwrenc@ix.netcom.com wrote:

>On Sun, 23 Mar 1997 16:56:31 GMT, hnh@juno.com wrote:
>
>This looks like a good story..... but could you please repost it as
>plain text.... we dont all have wordperfect as a word processor.
>
>bw



                           MAFIA

                                1 

Ralph was acting most strangely, and Bryll did not know why. But
darling, why do I have to go to this thing? Bryll asked again. If it's
just going to be one of those boring family business things... You do,
Ralph said shortly. My father wants us both there. It's important. But
why? It just is, Bryll. That's all. You'll find out. Now get ready, I
don't want to be late. Sighing, Bryll put on a plain but attractive
black dress which came down to mid-calf. Nothing too fancy or too
daring for Ralph's family. This was obviously going to be a formal
gathering, though not really a social affair. Family business. Usually
a big bore, and why they insisted that she attend this one tonight
Bryll could not imagine. But no way could she say no to the family. La
famiglia. No way at all. Sighing, Bryll finished dressing. How do I
look? All right, Ralph said, but he was frowning. What was wrong with
him? What was going on? It couldn't be....no. No way. No way he...or
his family...could possibly know...about David....
Down to the first floor. To Ralph's father's sanctum. Ralph knocking
at the door. Come in. It was a fairly big room, dark, still, but now
lit with many lamps and populated by what seemed at first to be many
men. Family. Don Ricardo, Ralph's father, sat behind his big wooden
desk. To his right stood Don Palladino, his brother and consiglieri;
to his left, Bruno Montera, his bodyguard, large, still, mountainous
and menacing. Looking around, Bryll saw most of the other Dons of the
family standing and sitting about the room. Don Francisco, Ricardo's
other brother, fat, gross-looking, cigar-smoking. Don Alberto, his
oldest son. Don Gabrilli, Don Louis, Don Cabrini. And others. Cousins.
Uncles. In-laws. And by a window, old Don Padrone, Ralph's
grandfather, the patriarch, the wasted but still powerful family head,
once boss of bosses, now a distant god. All the family men, it
appeared. Waiting. Watching. For what? And why was she the only woman?
If this was just business, why was she here? What was going on?
Don Ricardo, as always, was most polite and soft-spoken. Ah. Good. You
are here. How are you, Bryll? I'm good, thank you, Don Ricardo. And
you? Bryll had to admit she was nervous. But why? I am not too well,
alas, Don Ricardo said. Not too well, Bryll. His eyes, always bright,
always formidable, almost scared Bryll. As did the way he said her
name. Always. And now again. Her waspy, non-Italian name. Bryll. An
outsider.  Not even a catholic. Brought into his family by his son,
accepted, she knew, provisionally, for Ralph's sake, but always an
outsider. Suspicious. Not to be trusted. Bryll's throat was suddenly
dry. It couldn't be....
No, Don Ricardo was saying. Not well at all. Looking at Bryll, his
gaze boring holes in her brain. Betrayal, Don Ricardo said. Betrayal
makes a man ill. Do you understand me, Bryll? I--no, Bryll said. But
she was shaking just a little. Striving to breathe evenly, Bryll got
hold of herself. What do you mean, Don Ricardo? Don Ricardo waited.
Betrayal, he said. Betrayal of my family. Of my son. Of our honor. Our
traditions. I think you know, my son's wife, that in our family that
is not tolerated. I think you must know that. It is not accepted; it
is not condoned; it is not permissible. And it does not go unpunished.
I--I'm--I don't know what you... Bryll said.
Don Ricardo stood up. We have something to show to you, Don Ricardo
said. Sit down, Bryll. Sit right here. Coming around his desk,
motioning her to a chair in the front row of chairs lined up across
his room. Front and center. The other chairs filled with family,
waiting, watching. Smoking. Still. But for one chair to the right of
Bryll's, in which, once she was seated, Don Ricardo sat. Ralph had
gone to stand in the back, now standing against a wall. Why was he not
with her? Don Ricardo to her right. Don Palladino to her left. And
now, in a chair just behind her, Bruno Montera. What? What was it?
Bryll was frightened now. 
A signal from Don Ricardo. A wall panel opening, showing a television.
A flickering. And it began playing. A tape. It was a tape of...it was
a room, and it looked familiar, it was....no...dear god, Bryll
thought, it's a dream, let me wake up, please god... But it was not a
dream. Now there was David. In bed. Calling. Bryll? Sound. Sound,
color, vivid, clear, god no, it can't be, please... I'm coming,
darling. Her voice. And now Bryll on the screen. Christ. That
nightgown. No. No don't... She was taking it off. Posing for David,
smiling, turning, walking for him, slipping the nightgown off. A black
skimpy bra. Black skimpy panties. David looking. 
Silence in this room now. Utter stillness. Bryll shaking her head,
trying to deny, to block this out. It couldn't be. No please. If this
was...but it was... Oh Christ. Bryll almost screamed. She started to
get up. Don Ricardo put a hand on her arm. It was tight. It hurt. It
was a warning and a promise. Bryll stayed as she was. Shaking hard
now. Almost choking. Almost vomiting. And on the screen Bryll took off
her black brassiere. Chairs creaking in the room, the dons shifting,
leaning forward, gazing. And Bryll on screen taking off the skimpy
black panties. Slowly. Rolling them down. Slowly. For David. Who was
saying, oh yeah, baby. That's it. Show it all to me. Now bring it to
me, baby. And Bryll walking to the bed, to him, lying down with him,
and now the camera had a very good view, and Bryll's head was
spinning, her heart was pounding as part of her insanely was figuring
the location of the camera and most of her was drowning in fear, in
shame, in horror, in humiliation, in frantic, pounding fright. No
please. God please, it's not real, ohhh Christ....
It was real. Around her now loud breathing, audibly loud, shifting of
positions, low murmurs, as on the bed Bryll and David kissing, bodies
rubbing, entwining, now David on top of her, his hard cock, putting it
in her and christ she was moaning, on the screen Bryll was moaning and
saying yes, yes David, oh jesus yes.... and now Bryll's long luscious
legs around his body, tight around him, clutching, pulling, and David
moving, doing it to her, and both of them twisting, squirming,
pounding, and Bryll now in her chair trying to scream but unable to
produce sounds, trying to get up now, but Don Ricardo holding onto her
arm, fingers digging, and Don Palladino clutching at her other arm,
and now, behind her, Bruno Montera had hold of her long tawny hair,
pulling at it, pulling her head back, holding her down, straining her
scalp, and Bryll was moaning now in the chair as well as on the
screen, but moaning not with passion, but with fright, and pain. With
terror and agony. Sitting and moaning and shaking and hurting, with
aching arms held fast and scalp burning as Bruno held her hair,
pulling just enough to allow her still to watch that tape... I am
dead, Bryll thought, they will kill me, as now she was on top of
David, sitting on his hips, moving up and down, naked breasts
bouncing, thighs churning, fucking David joyously, laughing. David's
hands on her body, David arching and coming and Bryll crying out,
throwing back her head, writhing in ecstasy. Christ. Ralph was
standing back there, watching too, would he allow them to kill her?
Would he have any say in it? Probably not. Probably he wouldn't want
to stop it anyway. Now she was--oh god. Jesus. Going down on David
now, all up there, all of them watching, murmuring now, her mouth on
his body, going down, kissing his cock, moaning, licking it, David
grinning and arching, now taking it in her mouth, taking it in in a
way she had never done for Ralph, oh god, Ralph watching, all of them
watching, that moaning mouth swallowing his cock, twisting on it, now
sucking it, slowly, lovingly, sucking, up and down, up and down,
faster, slower, David groaning, up and down, David pulling at her but
Bryll staying as she was, looking up at him and sucking him, sucking
him, on and on, until David came in her mouth and christ his gism
spilling out of her lips and running down her face and Bryll sucking
and licking and rubbing.... Closing her eyes, ohh christ, and now Don
Ricardo digging his nails into her skin and saying, Watch, Bryll.
Watch it all. Watch it, slut pig. Watch! And she did....
It was over. Silence. Don Ricardo and Don Palladino released her arms.
Bruno let go of her hair. Bryll didn't move. It was no use. She wasn't
going out of that room, she knew, until she was told she could. If she
ever was. Don Ricardo now going back behind his desk, sitting. Looking
at Bryll. A whore, Don Ricardo said finally. A whore in our family. A
fucking Protestant whore. She had not known him to swear before. Bryll
was shaking. Forcing sounds from her choking throat, Bryll said, Are
you going to kill me? Don Ricardo gazing at her. Killing is too good
for you, Don Ricardo said. Killing is vengeance. It is not punishment.
We will punish you. In this family we punish betrayal. Not to say we
may not kill you still. But that is for another day. For now it is to
punish you. How will we do that. Don Ricardo looked around. Father? he
said. Old Don Padrone stood slowly. His voice was a soft croak.
Whipping, Don Padrone said. Whipping to within an inch of her life.
And branding, Don Padrone said. And sat down. Palladino? said Don
Ricardo. Don Palladino did not stand. Whipping, he said. And branding.
Don Francisco? Whipping. Don Cabrini? Whipping and branding. Don
Louis? Whipping. Branding. Whipping. Whipping. Whipping and branding.
Branding and whipping. And finally Bruno Montera. The woman is a
whore, Bruno Montera said. She should be used like a whore. Ralph? Don
Ricardo said. And Bryll caught her breath, having almost forgotten
Ralph. A long pause. Yes, Ralph said. All of it. Yes.
Bryll was almost numb as two dons lifted her from the chair, pulling
her forward toward Don Ricardo's desk. Placing her against it, facing
Don Ricardo, they bent Bryll across it, pushing her body down so that
her breasts jammed against its surface, her chin also touching it as
she fought to raise her head, looking with panicky eyes into Don
Ricardo's impassive face. Don Ricardo took hold of Bryll's wrists,
pulling at her arms to hold her in position, pinning them down as he
sat there. Bryll's body was sharply bent, her posterior sticking up
and out, her dress skirt hiking slightly on her shaking calves. Bryll
was gasping with fright, pain and shock. What-- she started to say.
What--what are you--
Bruno, Don Ricardo said. Bruno moved behind Bryll and stooping
slightly, pulled up the bottom of her dress. Now he was ripping it,
splitting it up the back to the waist. Letting it fall, hanging now in
two halves on either side of Bryll's lower body, showing naked calves
and thighs and that round jutting protruding rump tightly encased in
thin white panties. All of it, Don Ricardo said. Bryll was suddenly
struggling almost unconsciously, fighting against his grip on her
wrists, pulling, tugging, but to no avail. And Bruno Montera had his
hands on the waistband of her panties, and now ripped them from her,
baring her behind, dropping the ruined cloth to the floor. Bryll was
crying now.
Ralph, Don Ricardo said.
Ralph came forward. Bryll was still frantically pulling at Ricardo's
grip, but it was no use. Turning her head Bryll saw Ralph advancing,
saw him unbuckling his belt, saw him pull it off. Holding it by the
buckle, winding it around his hand a few times, finding the right
length. No, Bryll said, whinnying, gasping, no god no....
Ralph, Don Ricardo said. Do it right. Don't stint.
Don't worry, Ralph said.
Bryll gave a cry like a terrified animal. Which is what she was, she
thought, as Ralph raised his arm. No please....she got out.
A swishing. A crack. A scream.
A line of fire across her behind. It was her screaming, Bryll realized
and she was already screaming again. Screaming first in pain, then in
anticipation as Ralph swung again. And then in agony. No. No no it
couldn't no. Swish. Crack. Scream. No. Swish. No. Crack. Scream. The
pain unbearable. Swish. Crack. Bryll was screaming continuously now.
She couldn't stop. Again and again, swish and crack and agony
exploding across her behind and throughout her body. Swish and this
time on her thighs, crack! Swish, never stopping, on and on, again and
again, and Ralph panting now and the strap rising and falling and
Bryll was twisting and kicking now, trying somehow, anyhow to get away
from that ongoing horror, stamping her feet and kicking and flailing
her legs until Ralph said, Hold her legs, keep the bitch still. And
two of them, Bryll couldn't tell which, stooping, right and left, each
taking an ankle, pulling her legs open, holding them wide, holding
them tightly, off the floor so that she was resting on the desk, its
edge cutting into her stomach, crying and howling and twisting and
trying to beg as Ralph's whipping went on and on, and the dons now
voicing approval, watching, urging him on, swish, crack, swish crack
swish crack Crack CRACK CRACK CRACK.....
Had she lost consciousness? Bryll didn't know. But Ralph had stopped
whipping, though the agony was hardly diminished, and she was still in
position, Don Ricardo holding her wrists, two others holding her legs
apart, and now Don Ricardo was saying, Look at me, whore. But she
couldn't. Look at me, pig. And now a hand in her hair, it was Ralph,
pulling her head up sharply, Bryll crying out horribly with the pain
in her scalp and looking now forcibly into Don Ricardo's face, his
furiously burning gaze, whinnying in agony, gasping and sobbing.
Cocksucking cunt whore, Ricardo said. And Ricardo spat full in Bryll's
face, hard and copiously, spat as Ralph's brutal pulling hand kept her
that way. Bryll took it as though struck by lightning. But Ralph still
held her hair. Cock-loving whore, Ricardo said. All right. You like
cock, slut? You like that maricon's cock, that one you were fucking?
That man you sucked off, that motherfucking bastard you betrayed my
son with, betrayed my family with, you got off on sucking his cock,
right? All right then. All right, whore of Babylon, cheating worthless
slut whore. All right. Suck it now. Suck it all you want. Here it is.
This is his cock. His cock and his balls. All for you, cunt. All for
you. Here!!
And Don Ricardo took from a drawer what looked like-- And Bryll was
screaming, a sound dissimilar to the sounds she had made under the
whip, a new sound, an unconceivable sound, a cry of horror so profound
that it sent chills through all of them. And almost fainting, but that
Ralph still held her head up by her hair. For what Ricardo held was a
cock and balls, a human cock and balls, bloody still, soft with
horror, and Bryll knew it was David's, knew without a shadow of a
doubt, David, oh good Christ, they had killed him. Castrated and
killed him, and Bryll was crying and almost vomiting, and Ralph was
pulling still harder at her hair, dragging her head far back, forcing
her mouth, no, jesus god NOOOOOOO...forcing Bryll's mouth open and Don
Ricardo saying All right, slut pig, suck this. Suck on it all you
want. Eat it up, whore! And no, he was stuffing it in her mouth, no
god no, pushing it into her wide gasping sobbing screaming mouth,
noooo please christ, stuffing it in brutally and Bryll gagging and
choking and almost vomiting NOOOOOO...and god Bruno Matera was there
with a gag, Ralph holding her head still, Ricardo pinning her wrists,
two dons still holding her ankles apart, Bruno placing the gag over
Bryll's mouth and pulling it tight and tying it off and it was so
tight and it kept her from spitting the thing out of her mouth, held
it in inexorably and Bryll was still choking and gagging and retching,
mouth filled with David's dead cock and balls and struggling through
all that pain and agony and horror struggling not to vomit for now she
knew if she did she would suffocate and probably they would let her,
would enjoy watching her slowly agonizingly choking to death on her
own vomit, so she had to fight it down, the disgusting bloody flesh
filling her mouth, its taste on her tongue, in her throat, Bryll
making awful muffled throat sounds through that tight gag, twitching
and bucking and bridling as they watched, struggling to breathe slowly
through her nose, and finally Ralph let go of her hair and Bryll's
face hit the desk again.
Ralph? Don Ricardo said.
No. Ralph's voice. I won't touch her.
Bruno, Ricardo said. Fuck her ass.
No. All the saints in heaven stop this. For god's sake it couldn't...
Bruno stepping behind her, no, his hands, his huge hands on her
buttocks, christ no please...spreading, pulling apart, showing Bryll's
anus my god you can't, please anything, you can't let this... Bryll
struggled to raise her head, to look into Ricardo's face again, to
plead, beg, to say she would do anything, that she was sorry, that
anything at all no for god's please jesus but now Bruno unzipping and
Bryll felt his christ so big no and she tried to scream and couldn't,
nothing but tiny whimpering sounds, so frantic, so desperate, and
straining, pulling, hands holding so tightly, fighting with no
strength left to her and his huge thing at her anus and straining no
and.....
Ringing in her ears and her body and her soul and loud but faint but
distant but distinct sounds of men laughing, shouting, urging him on,
praising him, Bryll floating on agony and horror, as Bruno fucked her
ass. Hard. Brutally. Savagely. Uncaringly. Plunging, raping, lunging,
ripping, in crass deliberate violation in front of the family and
Bryll praying to pass out but not doing so, howling like an animal
around the bloody dead flesh in her mouth, against the numbing
stifling gag at her lips, unearthly sounds coming out, inhuman sounds,
and Bryll's body out of control but imprisoned by hands and now
animalistically violated for their satisfaction, for their
delectation, for their vengeance and for their lust.
When finally with a roar Bruno finished in her Bryll was suddenly
released and slid to the floor, lying prone, sobbing, moaning,
retching, twitching, half naked and filthy. 
Stand up, Don Ricardo said.
She couldn't. Could not move at all. 
Stand up, whore.
Floating toward unconsciousness.
Ralph, Don Ricardo said.
Ralph standing above her. That strap, no. Rising, no. Coming down.
Across her back. A piteously muffled scream. Now Ralph's hand again in
her hair, pulling. Merciless. Bryll with cries of pain scrambled
somehow to her knees, Ralph pulling upwards, Bryll standing now,
swaying, shaking, whimpering. A nod from Ricardo and Ralph now ripping
the tape from Bryll's mouth. Reflexively Bryll spat out the thing in
her mouth, pushing, retching, spitting, getting it out and gasping
frantically for air, mouth wide, bosom heaving.
Strip, whore, Ricardo said.
Bryll swimming at the brink of fainting. Dress torn from the waist
down, lower body exposed, she stared at Ricardo. Show it to us, cunt,
Ricardo said. All of it. Show it to us like you showed it to him.
Pointing contemptuously at the still bloody piece of flesh on the
floor. Bryll was trembling, shaking her head without knowing she was
doing it. Looking at Ralph, standing with the strap still in his hand.
Almost unconscious now with horror and agony and humiliation, Bryll
lifted a hand, two hands, to the front of what was left of her dress.
Turn around, Ricardo said, face the family, show all of us. And
Ricardo rose again and came around and sat in a chair and Bryll was
facing them all, all of them watching, waiting, and they had seen it
all anyway on the tape, but this was different, this was in person,
and personal, and it was for shaming her and violating her and
degrading her and Bryll sobbed and began to unbutton the buttons. In a
sudden profound silence. All the buttons. Down to the waist. Pulling
the dress apart. Slipping it off, dropping it. Facing them in only a
brassiere. Black. Waiting. Silent. Bryll was crying openly. As she
reached in back of her and pulled the hooks apart. Now slipping off
the straps, hesitating but not long it was futile, and Bryll dropped
the bra and dropped her hands helplessly and stood for their
inspection. Now gasps and murmurs and soft groans and shifting in
seats. Standing for a long time. Until Ricardo said, Don Padrone?
Yes, Don Padrone said.
Ricardo said, Go to him.
Walking across the room. Bryll did not know how. She was numb. But now
standing in front of the small old man. Who raised his wrinkly spotted
hands and placed them on her breasts. Bryll made a sound. The old
man's fingers found her nipples, taking them in thumb and forefinger.
And squeezed. Hard. Bryll screamed. Don Padrone pulled downward,
forcing Bryll to her knees in front of him, writhing in pain and
moaning. Take it, Don Padrone hissed. Take it out, girl. Still
pinching her nipples. Crying, Bryll got his fly open and his small
half limp cock into the air. He let go of the nipples and clutched
both hands in her hair. Hard. Do it, girl. Do it now. And with no
choice the kneeling Bryll brought her mouth to him and took his
twitching cock into it and began to suck him, sobbing, shaking,
watched by all, sucking the ancient cock, making it grow hard in her
mouth, hearing his stertorous breathing above her bobbing head,
feeling her own tears coursing down her face, the pain in her scalp,
the bile in her throat, the lustful shouts of watching men, the
gasping commands of the old man. Lick, girl. Lick it for me... Doing
it, using her tongue, taking all of him, frantic to finish and stop
the pain, but knowing it would never stop and now he was coming in her
mouth and down her throat and Bryll had to swallow, she knew she had
to swallow and she did, trying not to gag, to choke, taking it down,
swallowing, and as finally he was done Bryll sinking again to the
floor, gasping for air, curling, writhing, spasming in shame and
terror.
To me now, Don Palladino said from the other side of the room. Bryll
slowly trying to stand, knowing she couldn't but trying, but now
Ricardo said, No. Don't get up. Crawl, whore. Crawl to him. Crawl for
us all. And all of them waiting. Watching as Bryll got somehow,
painfully, slowly, awkwardly, onto her hands and knees, and then,
slowly, painfully, awkwardly, began to crawl across the room. On all
fours, like an animal. A dog. A pig. Crawling in front of the watching
men. Crawling along the floor. Naked. Crying. Shaking. Crawling. All
the way across the room. To Don Palladino.
His cock was already out. Don Palladino also grabbed her hair and made
use of Bryll's mouth, grunting and groaning as she pleasured him, but
soon pulling away, pushing Bryll down onto her back on the floor,
stripping himself rapidly, and Bryll crying out from who knows what
unexpected depths, No oh god no please no don't do it please please I
can't.... Why that outcry now, why when obviously it was futile, much
too late, christ why, but jesus Ralph was standing above her and the
strap and no no please I'm sorry, but too late and Bryll tried to roll
over, roll away, and Ralph said, hold her. Please, Bryll said,
moaning, bleating, please no I... But two of them taking her arms and
somebody holding her legs and holding her spread out, sprawled out and
helpless and it was no use, this time Ralph was going to teach her,
and the strap rising high and coming down and cracking viciously
across her breasts, and Bryll howling and almost pulling away from the
hands, bucking wildly, but the strap again, CRRRAAAACCKKK on her
breasts and again and Bryll screaming and saying please and Ralph
almost mad with rage and WHAP CRACK SWISH CRACK! Her breasts on fire
and Bryll shrilling herself hoarse. Okay, Ricardo said finally and
Ralph stopped and sat down and Ricardo said Now. Bryll. Whore. All
right, Bryll said, gasping, sobbing, All right all right all right
allright please god yes anything, and Ricardo said, Let the bitch go
and they did and Ricardo said, Ask Don Palladino to fuck the shit out
of you, and Bryll said, got it out somehow, said, Don Palladino
please...sobbing but saying it. Please fuck the shit out of me, Bryll
said. Spread for him, Ricardo said. Spread it all out for him. For all
of us. And Bryll did, spreading her legs apart and opening her arms
and arching her body, that aching, tortured, pain-wracked naked
voluptuous body. And Don Palladino took it, fucking the shit out of
her just as Bryll had asked him to.
And then all of them did. All of them taking her, taking her in every
way, using her cunt and her ass and her mouth. Singly, and in twos,
and in threes, and in groups. Raping Bryll constantly. Making her
crawl. Making her suck. Making her do anything they could think of.
All night long. All of them but Ralph. It went on and on through the
night. At one point they took her into Ricardo's small bathroom and
put her in the bathtub and pissed all over her, washing the gism off
her body with piss, soaking her body and face and hair with piss,
making her drink it, laughing, joking, asking her if she liked it, and
Bryll said what they wanted, did what they wanted, and so they let her
wash off and clean up and then it began again. Raping. Fucking.
Sucking. Crawling. And they said Are you a whore, Bryll? And Bryll
said yes. Say it, they said, and Bryll said, I am a whore. Again and
again she said it. I am a whore, I am a slut, I am a cocksucking cunt
bitch filthy whore... And she was.
And at dawn it was branding time. Don Francisco lit a fresh cigar in
honor of the occasion. Bryll was whimpering. Shaking. Don Francisco
was smiling. Wait, Don Padrone said. All night the old man had not
participated, as though that initial sucking had used up all his lust.
But now he stood and took off his clothing and lay down on his back on
the floor. I want her as she is branded, said Don Padrone. As she is
taught whose she is. As that sign is burned into her forever. Ours. La
famiglia. La cosa nostra. Burn it into her flesh and burn it into her
brain. His cock was hard and quivering. Bring her to me, said Don
Padrone. And four of them picked Bryll up and brought her to him and
pulling her legs apart slid her down onto his upright cock, Bryll
moaning and shaking, and they twisted Bryll's arms back and down so
that her body was arched backwards, that writhing squirming terrified
body pulled tautly back, breasts standing out, standing up and out,
nipples hard with fright, and struggling vainly as Don Francisco
puffed on his cigar, making it burn and glow redly, and crouched down
in front of her as Bryll writhed on Don Padrone's cock, the old man's
hands sliding up and down her thighs, savoring that soft smooth curvy
flesh, savoring Bryll's fear and helplessness. And now Don Francisco
raised his hand, bringing it forward, and now as he smilingly brought
it into contact with Bryll's straining, quivering body, as he slowly
pressed it home and ground it deliberately, painfully, mashingly,
twistingly into Bryll's nipple and aureole, burning, grinding,
twisting, branding her for life, Don Padrone shot his ancient
dessicated gism triumphantly up into Bryll's jouncing, squirming,
desperately straining bucking spasming agony-dominated body.
Bryll thought they would kill her, but they didn't. They put her in a
room upstairs, locking her in, and kept her there for a month. During
that time anybody who visited her had a right to have his will with
her. And they all did. But Ralph. All day they would stop in to fuck
her. To rape her. And Bryll had to do anything they wanted. To stay
alive. And she did. For a month. One at a time or two or more. Fucking
and sucking and crawling and taking it in the ass and doing what she
had to do. To stay alive. Why? She didn't know. When Don Francisco
brought in the dog Bryll said no. Don Francisco gave her a choice. A
free choice. Not fucking the dog and dying. Slowly. Or fucking the dog
after being hung up by her wrists and whipped on every part of her
body until he could no longer raise his arm. Or fucking the dog after
being tied down and having him use his cigar again. All over her body.
Bryll chose the second way. Long before Don Francisco was tired she
was begging to fuck the dog. Bryll's screaming on that occasion
attracted most of the dons to the room, so all of them ended up
watching her with the dog. Fucking it. And sucking it. And fucking it
again. All of them found it most satisfying.
Finally as that month was up Bryll was let go. She could not walk.
Bryll crawled all the way to Ralph's room. Crawling to Ralph, begging
him to take her back. Sucking his cock. Licking his ass. Promising to
be faithful always, and to be his slave. Ralph hung her by her wrists
from the ceiling and had her watch as he fucked through the night with
his new young girlfriend. Ralph asked Bryll if his girlfriend could
watch him whip her. Bryll said yes. 


                                2

Bryll was eating Don Francisco's shit. The fat cigar-smoking capo had
defacated into a bowl and put the result, two long thick brown turds,
on the table in front of the chair Bryll was sitting in, naked, with
waist, torso and legs bound tightly so that she could move only her
arms. Clamps, agonizingly tight, cruel alligator-tooth clamps, bit
into her nipples, making her squirm and writhe continually in the
chair. Ralph had given Bryll to Don Francisco for the day, to be his
property, to do whatever he wanted with her or to her. Ralph did that
a lot, giving her to various of his family and friends, and sometimes
to virtual strangers. It was probably Don Francisco whom Bryll hated
most to be lent to. Don Francisco could hurt her unimaginably, could
think up the most agonizing torments; and that was what he enjoyed
doing most. It wasn't enough that the clamps kept her body in awful
pain, or that he could make her scream horribly for him any time he
wanted to, which was often, by grinding out his ubiquitous cigar on
her shrinking helpless body; he must show her how low, how degraded,
how debased, how insignificant she was by making her do things no
human being with any thought of dignity or self-worth could possibly
do. But Bryll had no dignity or self-worth any more; it was not
allowed. Not if she wanted to stay alive. Don Francisco put his shit
in front of her. "Eat it all, girl," he said. "All of it, understand?
I don't care how long it takes you, I don't care how much you throw
up, I don't care how sick you get, I don't care if it takes all day
and all night. You sit there till you got it all down. Clamps and all.
And if I get bored I'll just burn you a bit, that's always fun. Or use
the whip. Or think up something new for you. Now eat it." Don
Francisco did not give Bryll a knife and fork; she had to use her
hands. Bryll thought it would not be possible for her to do it. Just
the sight of the turds was sickening to her, and the smell turned her
stomach. But she had no choice. Bryll began. As soon as she put the
first tiny bit of shit into her mouth, she vomited. Bending over as
best she could to try to avoid splattering herself with vomit and
shit. Don Francisco laughed. You can clean it all up later, girl, Don
Francisco said. At that rate you'll have a big pile of it to work
with. It will be fun to watch you clean it up. With your hair maybe.
Or with your tongue, how's that? Bryll vomited again. Don Francisco
laughed. It took Bryll hours to eat it, hours of retching and gagging
and vomiting and crying and vomiting and hurting and writhing and
desperate swallowing. Hours of agony and horror. But she did it. Don
Francisco took away the ropes, but not the clamps, and then made Bryll
get down on the floor and roll around in the vomit and soil she had
made. Bryll rolled for him. Don Francisco said he would wash her off,
and he pissed all over her, his piss splashing on her filthy body and
her aching breasts and her sobbing gasping face. Drink, Don Francisco
said, pissing at her mouth, and Bryll drank. Finally Don Francisco
took her into the bathroom and bound her to the shower head and ran
hot steaming water on her body till Bryll was screaming loudly enough
to attract attention from the whole house. Don Francisco was happy
about that, wanting them all to know his power, his mastery, his skill
with her disgraced and dishonored body. Clean, Bryll lay down on the
hard bathroom floor as Don Francisco delighted in taking her body,
crushing her with his punishing weight, pulling at her hair, mauling
her breasts with the clamps still on them, ramming her with his hard
rampant merciless cock and making her twist and buck and flail and cry
out in pain and agony and horror and degradation. Fucking her front
and back, raping her vagina and her ass and her mouth, laughing at her
pain, laughing at her violation, making her suck him for an hour,
slow, fast, hard, soft, demanding her tongue, her lips, her throat,
and Bryll did it all, knowing that finally he would give her back to
Ralph, who would hang her swinging from the ceiling all night before
giving her tomorrow to....who....oh god....who.....


                                  3

How she was to knock on the door Bryll did not know. Turning, knocking
with her elbow, not too loud, three times, turning back, waiting.
Hoping nobody would come down the hall. What would she do? What could
she say? Who is it? A man's voice. Probably Jim Ray Bursachi. That was
the man Bryll had been sent to visit. A man she did not know. Had not
seen. Who had not met her. But a man to whom Ralph was indebted. Bryll
swallowed. It--it's Bryll. Bryll Dallaccio. Who? Oh god. Please, Bryll
thought. I--I'm Bryll Dallaccio, Ralph's wife. I--didn't Ralph tell
you I was coming? What the hell-- And footsteps now approaching the
door, the door opening. A man standing there. Annoyed. A not very
good-looking man, not young, not old. Not fat, not thin. A man.
Looking at her. Looking at Bryll standing there at his door in a thin
tight pullover and a short tight skirt. High heels. No stockings. No
bra. And with her hands tied tightly behind her, bound securely with
strong thin rope. The man looking, starting, staring, looking her up
and down. Jesus, the man said. What-- A pause. Ralph, huh? Ralph sent
you? I thought he told you, Bryll got out. No. So okay. Come on in.
Bryll did, and he was closing the door, turning, looking up and down
again. So what's this all about? Jim Ray Bursachi said. Bryll took a
shaky breath. I--Ralph...says he owes you. I don't know what for. He
is giving me to you for the day. And night. As a gift. A gift, Jim Ray
Bursachi said. A gift, huh? And just what am I supposed to do with
this gift, can you tell me that? What's your name again, honey? Bryll,
Bryll said. Bryll. Okay, if you say so, Bryll. Now can you tell me
what Ralph wants me to do with this gift of his? Not that it's not a
nice gift, mind you. Not that it's not pretty and damn sexy and all
wrapped up in a fine bright package...complete with string... But
what's it for, can you tell me that, Bryll. For...for...anything you
want, Bryll said. That's what it's for. Anything you want. Anything?
Jim Ray said. Anything at all? Yes, Bryll said. Jim Ray nodded. Uhuh.
Uhuh. Okay. I get it. Kind of a payoff, only without Ralph having to
put out any cash money, is that it? Kind of a bribe, maybe? I don't
know, Bryll said. I don't know anything. Uhuh. But you know you came
to me all tied up and said I could do anything with you I wanted,
isn't that right, Bryll? Yes, Bryll said. I had to. I have no choice.
Ralph owns me. Right. And now I own you. For today and tonight. Is
that it? Yes, Bryll said, whispering, shaking. That's it. All right,
Jim Ray said. Good. Fine. Terrific. Go stand against the wall.
Stand... Right. Against the wall. Right over there. Go on. Back up
against it, stand straight. Good. That's it. Bryll darling. That's the
way. Now. Walking toward her, smiling, talking. And as he reached her
Jim Ray without warning drew back his fist and punched Bryll as hard
and as powerfully as he could in the pit of her stomach. Bryll was on
the floor, not knowing how she got there but rolling spasmodically
against the not-too-clean carpet, unable to breathe, trying vainly to
gasp for air, choking, gagging, retching, jerking, legs flailing, arms
instinctively pulling at the unyielding ropes, turning purple, body
curling into a ball and uncurling, kicking, bucking, gurgling,
rattling noises coming from her throat, the agony that suffused her
body overshadowed by the necessity to pull in air, to breathe again,
until finally with a great heaving gasp she did, letting it out with a
loud moaning cry of pain and fear and shock and helplessness. Jim Ray
was watching. Looking down, smiling slightly, nodding pleasantly as
Bryll's rolling, twisting, spasming body writhed for his delectation.
Okay, Jim Ray said finally. Good show, Bryll. So. Is that the kind of
thing Ralph had in mind, do you think?  Bryll could not say anything.
Bryll? Jim Ray said. I'm asking you a question, Bryll. You don't want
to be rude to me, do you, Bryll? Bryll did her best to still her
gasping pants. Yes, she said finally. Yes, I think it is. And now
Bryll was crying softly, but soon stopped herself. She was in for it.
This was a man like Ralph, like Don Francisco, like Ralph's father
Ricardo, like...like all men. All of them. Wanting to see her in
agony. Wanting to make her scream. And crawl. And grovel. Wanting to
degrade her, to destroy her, to violate her body and mind and soul.
Which was what her life was now about. Damn, Bryll, Jim Ray said now.
I love the way that skirt thing climbs up your legs as you're twisting
around like that. I mean the damn thing is so fucking short anyway,
isn't it? And now I can see practically everything you got down there.
And Bryll honey, you have got the most fantastic legs I ever saw, and
I'm not just saying that, baby, those are truly gorgeous gams, all the
way up, at least as far up as I can see, which is pretty far up. But
I'd like to see still more, so why don't you pull that thing up still
further for me, okay, Bryll? Pull it up all the way. Go on, darling.
But--but I can't... Bryll said fearfully. My--my hands... Oh I know,
your hands are tied that way, and I want you to know I do appreciate
that little touch, Bryll, because it makes your tits push out so
beautifully and thrust so tight against that top that I can almost
make out your nipples. And you're not wearing a bra either, isn't that
right, Bryll. Yes, Bryll got out. Still panting slightly. I mean no.
I'm not. Ralph... Yes, good old Ralph, Jim Ray said. Well. Anyway. The
thing is, I don't think having your hands so sweetly tied up that way
is really going to stop you from pulling that skirt up for me if you
really try, Bryll. And I do want you to try. Do it, Bryll. Go on.
Because I don't want to have to punch you again. That was just to get
your attention, you might say. I could kick you though, Bryll. The way
you're lying there on your side, I could just stand here and kick you
right in the tit, to show you I'm not kidding about what I want you to
do. Wait... Like this, Jim Ray Bursachi said, and swiftly he drew back
his right foot and did just that, kicking her hard and fast and
viciously with all the power at his command, the toe of his shoe
sinking cruelly into the springy vulnerable yielding flesh of Bryll's
right breast. Bryll screamed loudly and shrilly, agony bursting
through her straining body, which now rolled onto its back, rocking,
writhing, arching, going crazy in its pain, her arms pulling so hard
that her wrists scraped themselves raw against the unmoving bonds.
Howling. Bucking. Jim Ray stood over her. Bryll now pulling with more
purpose at her bound wrists, straining her arms, grabbing frantically
for her skirt at the back, pulling it up, desperately bunching it in
her hands, babbling. I'm doing it, Bryll cried hopelessly, please I'm
doing it, and bunching the skirt in her straining aching hands, until
it was pulling up over her thighs, all the way over her panties,
pulling up to her waist, pulling. Ah, Jim Ray said. God, those thighs.
Those legs. God. Bryll. Open them. Spread them out for me. Go on. All
the way. Spread yourself. Bitch cunt whore cocksucking slut twat shit
fuck baby. Do it. Do it. And Bryll, crying, sobbing, shaking, did it.
With his words pouring over her, with her bound helpless body lying at
his feet, with her hands crushed beneath her, with her body arching
and straining and squirming, Bryll spread her gorgeous naked fabulous
voluptuous fantastic wonderful mouth-watering shapely curvy sensuous
scrumptious legs far apart, as far apart as she could, the muscles and
tendons of her magical thighs standing out against the soft smooth
flesh, the sculpted molded calves tightening, flexing, thighs
splaying, and Jim Ray Bursachi reaching down to rip the flimsy panties
from her loins, laughing as Bryll's gaping vagina awaited him, now
throwing himself down on top of that body, between those straining
stretching legs and looking into her eyes and grabbing her hair and
pulling her head back and saying, Kiss me, Bryll baby. Kiss me good.
And I mean good. And pulling at her hair and crushing her body and
raping her cunt with his cock and his mouth was on hers and Bryll was
kissing him, kissing him for all she was worth, moaning with agony and
shame and horror into his mouth and giving him her tongue and probing
his mouth with it and taking his down her throat and twisting under
him and kissing him and wrapping her legs around his body and kissing
him and pressing her lips against his and playing with his tongue and
crying and groaning and sobbing and gasping and fucking him fucking
him fucking him fucking him fucking him as Jim Ray was raping her and
ripping her top open and mauling her breasts and biting her lips and
plunging into her again and again and Bryll crying and fucking and
whimpering and writhing and clutching him with her legs because she
didn't want to die and she had to do what Ralph said and this was only
the beginning for Jim Ray and she had to survive and Bryll was kissing
and fucking and arching and Jim Ray was coming and he heaved up above
her and stuck his throbbing cock in her face and Bryll took it in her
mouth and licked it and sucked the gism out of it and took it down her
throat and on her face and Bryll was screaming as he clamped her
nipples and it was just starting, the day was young, the night was
coming, and Bryll crawled for him all night long and in the morning
she fucked his dog and then went home to Ralph.


                              4

Bryll was standing at the foot of Ralph's large bed, stark naked, her
body stretching tautly with arms and legs spread wide and bound
tightly to the two tall bedposts at the bottom corners, facing inward
so that she could watch Ralph and Cindy lying on the bed, fucking.
Ralph was lying on top of Cindy, who was young and curvy and blonde
and whose hands were tied behind her back, and who was crying and
moaning and struggling vainly as Ralph had his way with her. Ralph
found it stimulating that Cindy was bound that way, and that she was
so unwilling; and he found it still more stimulating to be raping the
girl in front of Bryll, his wife, particularly in the present
circumstances. Standing behind Bryll was Bruno Montera, Ralph's
father's personal bodyguard, a huge hulk of a man who at the moment
was holding a thick black vicious-looking leather strap, with which he
was whipping Bryll, at regular intervals, with all the strength of his
arm. With each sound of the strap whistling through the air,
accompanied by Bruno's grunt of effort, Bryll would gasp or whimper or
moan piteously, her body flinching, pulling instinctively and vainly
against the ropes that held her body spreadeagled; and with each loud
terrible crack of that strap across her back, she would scream loudly
and shrilly, a sound of such agony and horror that it was obvious that
the pain was almost inhumanly unbearable. Bruno Montera's eyes
glittered as he whipped the strap again and again, tirelessly,
relentlessly, across the cringing  flesh, hitting Bryll's back,
striping it from shoulders to waist, with an occasional lash at her
curving buttocks and her deliciously splaying, fabulously curvacious
thighs. But mostly on her back, up and down, again and again, hard as
he could; and every scream was adding to Ralph's pleasure, giving him
additional thrills as he went on fucking the bound and sobbing young
girl beneath him. Oh yeah, Ralph growled, his hands moving roughly
over Cindy's twisting body, his hips pounding his cock harder and
harder into her squirming jouncing pussy, oh yeah, do it Bruno, whip
the shit out of the filthy adulterous bitch. Scream for me, baby,
Ralph would say, and Bruno would make the strap whistle and crack
against Bryll's back, and Bryll would scream for him. For them. And
Ralph would laugh and fuck Cindy harder, finally turning Cindy over
and forcing himself into her tiny ass, as Cindy howled, but not as
loudly as Bryll. How is it, Bryll darling? Ralph said, fucking Cindy's
ass. It's good for me, I'll tell you that. You whore slut bitch, yes,
scream, baby, it keeps me so hard, it makes me so fucking randy to
hear you yelling like that. Don't stop, Bruno. You can have her when
it's over. Can't he, Bryll? Bryll was screaming. Ralph stopped fucking
Cindy for a moment and turning to Bryll's outstretched form raised
himself up and reached out to clasp her outthrust breasts, her soft
pink quivering nipples, in his hands. Squeezing. Can't he, Bryll?
Ralph said, grinning at her. Say it. Say it, damn you! Pinching with
all his strength, and Bryll howled YES! YES YES YES HE CAN YES PLEASE
GOD YES!!!.... Good, Ralph said, and now pulling out of Cindy's ass he
turned her again and grabbing her long blonde hair, pulling it back
and down so that the girl's twisting face was turned up to him,
forcing her mouth open with the pain and pressure at her scalp, Ralph
rubbed his big hard straining cock across her face, and then brought
it to her lips. Take it, girl, Ralph said. Take it in, Cindy baby,
suck it for me, or do you want to be where Bryll is? And he rammed his
cock hard into that moaning, gasping, sobbing mouth and laughed as
Cindy began to choke and gag. Bruno, Ralph said, and Bruno swung the
strap, and Bryll's body stiffened and bucked and Bryll was screaming
louder than ever. Yes! Ralph said, pumping away into Cindy's retching
face, yes, that's it baby, you scream all you want. Ralph...Bryll was
gasping, quivering, frantic. Ralph please. Make him stop, please.
Please, Ralph no more. I can't. Ralph. I'll do anything, please. God.
Ralph. No. No. NOOOOOOOO...  Ralph was holding hard to Cindy's hair,
making her cry out in torment around his cock as now he shot his gism
into her mouth and down her throat with the inspiration of Bryll's
latest scream. Sweet baby, Ralph said, and pushing Cindy away from him
lay her down on her back and began slapping her breasts. What will you
do, Bryll? Ralph said, his hand swinging back and forth, cracking
rhythmically across Cindy's round high mounds as the girl twisted
weakly, kicking her thrashing legs and trying vainly to get away. What
can you possibly do that you haven't done for us? Or won't do if we
want you to. What, Bryll? Nothing, that's what. Not a damn fucking
mother-grabbing thing, right, Bryll, baby? Ralph...god....I'm begging
you...begging you... A little pity...oh god please...just a little
pity... HAAAUUUUGGHHHHHHH.... Good boy, Bruno, Ralph said, and now he
gave Cindy a vicious shove, so that the girl rolled off the bed and
landed hard on the floor, writhing and kicking. You can fuck this one
first, Bruno, Ralph said, and as Bruno, grinning, moved to the
helpless naked form on the floor, Ralph took the strap from his hand.
Pity? Ralph said, facing Bryll now. Pity, is it? Bryll's eyes widened
as Ralph wrapped the strap around his hand, leaving just a short
length dangling. Swaying. Swinging. Bryll shook her head pleadingly.
Pity, Ralph said, raising his hand. Ralph, Bryll cried out fearfully.
Ralph for god's sake... Was it pity you had when you fucked that
bastard son of a bitch David? And now Ralph swung the strap and lashed
it hard, hard, hard, across Bryll's right breast. Bryll screaming and
writhing. Was it pity when you sucked him off, Bryll? Swing. Whap! The
left breast. Bryll howling, trying to plead. Was it pity when you got
on top of him? WHAP! And fucked his brains out? WHAP!! And came with
him, you filthy whore, and sucked him again? WHAP! WHAP!! WHAP!!!
Bryll pulling desperately at the ropes till her wrists were bloody,
her breasts bouncing, torso bucking back and forth, mouth wide and
screaming, screaming, screaming, as WHAP!! WHAP!! WHAP!!! again and
again across her agonized bounding breasts, and then Ralph stood up on
the bed and grabbed Bryll's hair and pulled her head most painfully
downward and forced her mouth over his cock. Fucking her mouth, raping
it, raping it relentlessly as Bryll's howls were muffled by his hard
stiff meat, and at the same time Bruno Montera was bringing howls from
Cindy, mauling her breasts and holding on to her straining thighs,
pushing them back to the breaking point as he raped her asshole. Ralph
shot his come into Bryll's mouth, then lay down to watch Bruno pulling
Cindy's face to his crotch, fucking Cindy's mouth while pulling her
arms up behind her, making her moan around his cock, and finally
starting to pull back her fingers slowly until they broke, one by one,
laughing and cracking each finger in turn, relishing Cindy's horrible
screams of agony around his cock with each snap, until all Cindy's
fingers were broken and Bruno played with them until Cindy's twisting
spasming moaning howling mouth made him come down her throat. At last
Ralph cut Bryll down and told her to crawl to Bruno and suck him until
he was hard again. And Bryll did that. And then crawling to Ralph and
doing the same thing. And then sucking both of them in turn, crawling,
sucking, sobbing, and screaming as from time to time they whipped her,
front and back, to inspire her to suck them as skilfully as she could,
and Bryll did that, sucking and crawling and swallowing as they shot
into her fine sweet moaning gasping sobbing crying twisting pleading
begging screaming yelling gorgeous sensuous quivering aristocratic
mouth. Then Ralph and Bruno had Bryll use that mouth on Cindy, who
with her hands still tied and her fingers broken and her life ruined,
came uncontrollably, coming and coming and coming and sobbing and
coming as Ralph and Bruno laughed and Bryll saw them growing hard
again and began to cry...


                                5

Cunt cocksucking niggerfucking twat whore, Ralph said. Is that what
you did, Cindy? Bryll said, licking Cindy's face, licking Cindy's
mouth. You fucked a nigger? Is that why they did this to you? Cindy
could not answer, lying as she was in a semi-conscious state with her
bound hands and broken fingers crushed beneath her young luscious
quivering body, the agony still possessing that once springy vibrant
form. Bryll was crouching over Cindy, also in extreme pain, with no
broken bones but with her back and buttocks and thighs and also her
breasts striped with whip marks, wrists bloody from being bound not
long ago, ankles chafed, limbs aching with strain from which they had
only a short while ago been released. Bryll was licking and kissing
Cindy on command of her husband Ralph and of Bruno Montera, who stood
watching, Ralph still holding the thick hard leather strap with which
Bryll had been beaten by both of them, Bruno grinning and flexing the
huge hands with which he had deliberately snapped all of Cindy's
fingers while fucking her mouth. Bryll was doing what she was doing in
order to avoid being hurt again, at least for now. Obeying Ralph's
commands, as she must always do. Bryll had licked Cindy's twisting
aching violated vagina for a long time, causing Cindy in her ruined
state to climax helplessly again and again, coming and coming and
coming as Ralph and Bruno laughed and laughed. Now Bryll was kissing
and licking Cindy's face and body and Cindy was half-consciously
squirming and writhing and moaning and begging. Fucking a nigger,
Bryll said, god, how was it, Cindy? Did he have a big cock? Was he
good, Cindy? Cindy was moaning as Bryll put her tongue in Cindy's
mouth. I have never fucked a nigger myself, Bryll said, and Ralph
said, But you fucked that asshole shit David, didn't you, cunt, and
Bryll said Yes I did, and David raised the strap and brought it down
to crack viciously across Bryll's back, and Bryll screamed into
Cindy's mouth. Sit on her fucking face, you whore, Ralph said. Bryll
said, I'm sorry, Cindy, and crawled up and turned to face Ralph and
Bruno and sat down on Cindy's face, splaying her thighs so that her
cunt was pressing directly down over Cindy's gasping panting moaning
mouth. Cindy could hardly breathe, and Bruno laughed, saying, lick her
Cindy doll, lick that cunt for us, go on. But Cindy could only whimper
and twitch weakly, until Bruno got down and took Cindy's foot in his
hands and said, all right, maybe your fingers didn't do the trick,
maybe you want your toes broken too, and Cindy made a terrible animal
sound of fright and horror and pleading and her body bucked, but Bruno
said, do it, baby, and bent Cindy's big toe back until it snapped.
Cindy began to buck and jerk and flail in agony, screaming into
Bryll's vagina, and as Bruno took hold of her second toe Cindy
frantically put out her tongue and was licking, licking and moaning
and making stifled muffled begging noises. Do it, Bruno said, and
broke the toe. Cindy's thrashing tormented body bouncing helplessly up
and down on top of her tightly bound and broken torturously aching
hands, adding to her pain, Bruno snapping each toe in turn, going to
Cindy's other foot, Cindy howling and licking and shrieking and
arching and slamming back and screaming and tonguing and kissing and
gasping for breath and Bruno laughing and Ralph watching and Bryll
squirming on Cindy's face and going crazy with Cindy's tongue in her
cunt and Ralph swinging the strap to whip her across her bouncing
shuddering breasts. You want to fuck a nigger, you whore? Ralph said.
You will all right. You will, Bryll, you will fuck every nigger I can
find, you got that? And Bryll was yelling, howling, YES! YES YES I
WILL YES ALL RIGHT PLEASE RALPH I WILL YES ALL RIGHT I WILL FUCK ANY
NIGGER YOU WANT ME TO PLEASE GOD RALPH STOP I'LL FUCK THEM ALL I'LL
SUCK HIS COCK I'LL LICK HIS ASS I'LL EAT HIS SHIT PLEASE RALPH I'LL
WRAP MY LEGS AROUND HIM AND FUCK THE SHIT OUT OF HIM I SWEAR I WILL
RALPH PLEASE HHHHHAAAAUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHHHH..... And she did.


                               6

When finally Ralph decided to kill Cindy off he brought in the black
man that she had fucked and on pain of death made him cut Cindy's
nipples off and feed them to her. He forced Cindy to chew them and
swallow them, and Cindy quite visibly lost her mind, mewling like an
animal, all sanity obviously diminishing under the agony and
inconceivability of what Ralph was making her do. Ralph had the black
man fuck Cindy in the ass as she was dying, continuing even after she
was dead, finally coming in the anus of a corpse. That was your last
fuck, nigger, Ralph said, and had Bruno castrate him. That is what I
will do to you, Bryll, Ralph said, if you ever try to run away from
me. I will cut off your nipples and fucking make you eat them. I'm not
shitting you, Bryll. I know, Bryll said. I will not run away. I will
stay with you until you kill me, or you give me to someone who kills
me. Lick Cindy's cunt, Ralph said. Oh jesus, Bryll said, oh good
christ, Ralph, she's... I know, darling, I know she is dead, but
that's the fun of it, you know? Making you do something disgusting
like that. You fucking slut cunt. Ralph, I'm sorry about David, I'm
sorry, it was just that one time, that's all, it was only... I saw
you, Bryll. In that film. I saw you fucking him. And sucking him. And
kissing him. And coming for him. But...you killed him, Ralph. And I'll
kill you too, Bryll, if I want to. You know that, don't you? Yes,
Ralph. I know that. Now I want to watch you licking Cindy, okay? See
if you can make her come now. You did it so well, you made the bitch
climax again and again, in spite of everything, didn't you? Real good
tongue you have there, Bryll. I remember it. I'll never feel it again,
I wouldn't touch you with a thirty-foot log, Bryll, but I know it's a
great tongue. Now you can use it on Cindy again, and if you make her
come this time it'll really be something, won't it? Go on, Bryll. Do
it right now. And Bryll crawled to Cindy's body and spread the
lifeless thighs apart and taking a long breath put her mouth on
Cindy's dead pussy and licked it and licked it and licked it and
licked it and kissed it and licked it until at long last Ralph had had
enough. Bryll threw up. Ralph laughed. Lick that all up, Ralph said,
and Bryll did.      


                                7   

I'm giving a dinner party tonight, Ralph said. For a group of the boys
from out of town. About thirty or so. It's a bachelor party, of sorts.
I want you to be my hostess, Bryll. All right, Bryll said. How formal
is it? What do you want me to wear? High heels, Ralph said. Black
high-heeled shoes. All right. And what else? That's all, Ralph said.
Oh, Bryll said. At the time Bryll was hanging by her wrists from a
hook in the ceiling of their living room, the tips of her toes just
barely touching the floor. Ralph was walking around her, swinging a
long thin whippy cane through the air. Ralph now paused, standing
slightly to one side of her, raising the cane to tap its springy tip
lightly against Bryll's high, outthrusting right breast. You don't
have any objection to that plan, do you, Bryll darling? Ralph said.
No, Ralph, Bryll said. No, I have no objection. Good, Ralph said.
Tapping the cane against her nipple. Tap. Tap. Tap. I'm glad to hear
that, Bryll. Because if you did, then I would have to do this. Ralph's
arm swung back. Bryll closed her eyes. A loud grunt from Ralph. A
sharp whistling sound. A vicious crack of wood against flesh. And a
terrible shrill ear-shattering agony-filled scream. Bryll's legs
kicking spasmodically beneath her twisting writhing body as the blow
knocked her forcibly off her toes, putting the whole flailing,
swinging, squirming weight of that body on her rope- bound and abraded
wrists.
 
                             8

It was Christmas eve. The stockings were hung by the chimney with
care, and so was Bryll. Hanging by her wrists, body taut and
straining, breasts pulled up, skin tight, in front of the roaring
fireplace, with her legs spread wide and pulled to either side of the
hearth. Hanging that way as the fire burned happily, singeing her
backside. Bryll was gagged now, as Ralph and Donald had grown tired of
her moaning and pleading, and were most content just to look at her,
watching happily as she hung helplessly, unable even to writhe very
much, just enough to amuse the two of them, and whoever else they
might bring in. We can take the gag off again later, Ralph said. If
you wish to hear Bryll scream, which I know  you will enjoy. Thanks,
buddy, Donald said. Just look at that! I'm so hard I could screw Santa
Claus. You can screw Bryll instead, Ralph said. All you want. I know,
Donald said. I know I can. And I will, buddy. You can be fucking damn
sure of that. I will. But just look at her now. Christ. Look at her
eyes! I know, Ralph said. He moved close to Bryll, looking into her
eyes. Bryll darling, he said softly. How you must be suffering. Ralph
raised his hands and put them on her breasts. Bryll shook her head.
Hopelessly, reflexively, knowing it wouldn't stop him. Ralph smiled.
And squeezed. Hard. As hard as he could. Bryll's taut body went
tauter. Ralph did not stop. Bryll whinnied behind her gag. The ropes
creaked. Ralph did not stop. Donald was watching and grinning and
almost panting. Look at that body, Donald said softly. Look at how her
thighs bunch up. Look at her head moving. Listen to that sound, god, I
can't stand it. Build up the fire, Ralph said. When her back starts to
blister, you can fuck her. Can't he, Bryll? Bryll nodded, mewling.
Merry fucking Christmas, Ralph said.


                          9

Bryll was crying. But not for herself this time. She was crying for
Trisha, who was lying on the floor on her stomach and moaning around
Ralph's cock. Trisha's hands were tied tightly behind her back, and
her remarkably curvy legs were spread apart, with each ankle bound to
a ring in the floor. Ralph was sitting on the floor with Trisha's head
in his lap, his hands clutching her curly dark hair, holding it still,
with his hard cock deep inside her sobbing mouth. Trisha was young, a
high-school senior who Ralph was breaking in for his family. Trisha's
skin was a deep cocoa color, smooth and silky and brown. Bryll was
crouching on the floor between Trisha's straining thighs, and at
Ralph's instructions was burning the girl's thigh with cigarettes.
Packs of cigarettes lay around her within easy reach, and discarded
crumpled cigarettes lay in a pile nearby. There was a line of burn
marks along the back of Trisha's right thigh, a straight, almost
continuous line. Bryll had a cigarette in her right hand, burning
slowly. She was holding it above Trisha's thigh and waiting for
Ralph's command as she was crying in sympathy with the moaning,
crying, writhing agony-filled young girl in front of her. Now, Bryll,
Ralph said. Bryll heard Trisha trying to mewl, trying to beg, trying
to cry out in panic at the anticipation of what was coming; saw
Ralph's hands tighten in the girl's hair as Trisha automatically
reflexively attempted to pull her head away; saw Trisha's body tighten
and begin to tremble. But Bryll must not disobey. Her hand moved down.
Slowly this time, Ralph said, grinning, holding Trisha's hair, and
Bryll made contact with the shaking brown flesh and slowly, slowly,
twistingly, agonizingly, pressed the cigarette into it, ground it in,
mashed it in, turning it, grinding it out, grinding it to extinction
in that soft tender thigh, as Trisha went wild, twisting and squirming
and arching and bucking hopelessly, helplessly, writhing and spasming
in pain, and now screaming, screaming, again screaming, around Ralph's
cock, screaming muffled by that big cock all the way inside her
twisting mouth but loud and fierce and terrible. Bryll was crying.
Yes, Ralph said. Yes, darling, yes, that hurts, doesn't it, Trisha?
Hmmmmm? It hurts so bad, it makes you want to be a good girl from now
on, doesn't it, Trisha? It makes you want to do what we tell you from
now on. I certainly hope it does that, Trisha. Bryll? Ralph said. And
Bryll hastily, hearing the note of warning in his voice, got out
another cigarette and put it in her mouth and lit it up. Always be
ready. At the striking of the match Trisha gave a stifled cry, still
half-screaming, still moaning and sobbing, and Ralph said suck me,
darling, and let go of Trisha's hair, and Trisha did, crying, moaning,
her mouth tight around him, her head bobbing vigorously. Good girl,
Ralph said. You're learning. Sweet-mouth nigger gal. I'll have Bryll
whip you tonight. And Bryll was still crying.

                    
                             10

But it was not Bryll whipping Trisha that night. Bryll's arm was not
strong enough to suit Ralph, and so he hung Bryll up by her hair to
watch Trisha's whipping at the much more powerful hands of Bruno
Montera. It was difficult for Bryll to concentrate on Trisha's pain
through the almost unsupportable fact of her own desperate agony.
Ralph said he couldn't wait to see if Bryll's hair was ripped right
out of her scalp, and Bryll thought that was just what was about to
happen every moment. Hanging with her hands bound behind her, her feet
unbound but off the floor, swaying slightly in the air, scalp on fire,
Bryll could do nothing but try to stay as still as possible, in spite
of the unbearable pain and horror, hang as still as she could,
dangling by her hair, moaning and whimpering uncontrollably, but
trying hard not to scream, as even that might set her body moving,
which might rip her scalp from her skull. Trisha, stark naked now,
hung by her wrists, also swinging, but moving considerably more under
the steady bite of the whip that Bruno was using on her. Her sensuous
chocolate-brown body was pulled taut, her skin silky and tight over
her curves and hollows. Her round young breasts thrust out, the
position of her arms raising them so that their whole surface was
deliciously and vulnerably exposed. But for now Bruno was working on
her back. That sinuous body twisted and squirmed, arching, bucking,
kicking, flailing frantically, as Trisha screamed out her agony. Bruno
swung his arm steadily. Swish....CRACK! the whip went, singing through
the air and landing with vicious power on the suffering flesh.
Swish.....CRACK! Trisha screamed and plunged, screamed and tried to
beg, screamed and went almost out of her mind, as Ralph watched,
laughing. Swiiiishhhhh....CRRRRAAAACCKKK!! All right, Ralph said over
Trisha's gasping groaning sobs and Bryll's moaning whimpers. Start on
her front now. Trisha screamed loudly. Ralph grinned. No, Trisha? You
don't want that, you stupid little nigger gal? That's what you are,
isn't it, Trish baby? A little nigger gal. Isn't it? Say it, Trish.
Tell me what you are. Ohhh god...Trisha gasped weakly. Bruno, Ralph
said. Bruno moved around Trisha and raised his arm. Trisha said:
NOOOOOOOOOOOOO PLEASE PLEEEEEAAAAASE JESUS GOD NOOOOOO.... Ralph
grinned. SWIIIIISSSHHHHH....CRRRRaaaaaaaccccckkkkk!!! Across the
tender helpless bottom curves of Trisha's breasts. Howling, plunging,
creaking of rope, wild frantic kicking of legs, animal whinnying,
bloody wrists, babbling bubbling choking incoherent pleas for mercy...
Again, Ralph said. Harder. GAAAAAAA....
SWIIISHHHHHH......CRRRRAAAACCCCKKKKKKK!!!!! Right across Trisha's hard
quivery pink nipples. And Bryll almost forgot her own pain in the
spectacle of Trisha going crazy, her shrieks nearly bursting Bryll's
eardrums. And now swish....crack! again, and a long wait for Trisha to
settle down, Trisha finally swinging slightly, turning back and forth,
sagging, groaning, her body a straight line of exhaustion and agony.
Say it, Trish, Ralph said. Tell us all what you are. Go on. A mumble
from Trisha. A sob. We can't hear you, Ralph said. Bruno. A moan of
animal terror. Noooo...I...I'm...I'm a nigger gal... Again, Ralph
said. Louder. I...I'm a nigger gal. A nigger slave, Ralph said. A--a
nigger slave, Trisha sobbed. A filthy crawling cock-sucking nigger
slave gal, Ralph said. I--please--- Bruno, Ralph said. NOOO! Bruno
swung. Swish....crack! Wait. Horror. Chaos. Wait. I--I--I'm a...a
filthy...crawling...cock-sucking...nigger...slave.... That's right,
Ralph said. And I'm going to fuck the shit out of you, you sweet-mouth
hurting little nigger. I'm going to fuck you while you hang there, and
if you don't give me a damn good fuck I'll have Bruno whip your back
while I'm doing it, just to put some life into you. And he did, and
Trisha, to avoid more of the whip, curled her legs around his body and
crushed herself against him  and fucked him back as hard as she could,
screaming out at his command how she was a filthy nigger slave gal...
And Bruno, having nothing to do, moved behind Bryll and pulled up her
legs and brutally, forcibly, mercilessly fucked her in the ass,
ramming his cock up her anus, pulling at her thighs and fucking away
at her as she still hung by her hair, his hands reaching around to her
breasts and clamping them tight, tight, squeezing them and holding on
to them as his hips moved rhythmically, all of it making Bryll nearly
lose consciousness, but not quite, not quite, pain, agony, torment,
horror, anguish, insupportable torture ripping, ripping through her
scalp, her breasts, her anus, and her entire body and mind and soul,
making her howl as loudly as Trisha was still howling, until two
laughing men came into two helplessly writhing bodies, and two girls
were finally cut down to crawl across the floor and forced to make
reluctant, exhausted, agony-filled love to each other until the
watching, grinning men got hard again....


                              11

This girl wants to suck your cock, Ralph said. Dryfus blinked. What? I
said this girl wants to suck your cock, Ralph said. Is that so hard to
understand? Dryfus was looking at Trisha, who was crying. I don't
think she does, Dryfus said. Trisha, Ralph said, tell him. I-- Trisha
said. I...I want to...suck your cock. Crying. What is this? Dryfus
said. Don't you like her? Ralph said. Shit--I mean, Christ...I mean...
Don't you think this girl is good-looking? Ralph said. God, yes,
Dryfus said. Even though she is a nigger, Ralph said. I don't care
about that, Dryfus said. You should though, Ralph said. You can't go
around not caring about people being niggers. Niggers are shit. Isn't
that right, Trisha? Yes, Trisha said. Tell us, Ralph said. Niggers are
shit, Trisha said, crying. I am shit. Go on, Ralph said. I am a
cocksucking crawling filthy nigger slut whore cunt bitch slave, Trisha
said, crying. What is this, Dryfus said. Do you want to hit her? Ralph
said. Will that make you hot to have her suck your cock? Slap her
across the face, hard as you can? Backwards and forwards? Again and
again? Until she is screaming? Will that turn you on, Dryfus? Or would
you rather strip her, or have her strip for you, and hang her up by
her wrists and whip her and put out your cigarettes on her nipples?
And watch her going crazy and twisting and squrming and kicking and
bucking and thrashing and writhing in pain and agony, and listen to
her screaming and howling and yelling and shrieking and begging and
pleading and moaning and groaning and crying and sobbing and
whimpering and whinnying and mewling and gasping and babbling in agony
and horror? Is that what will turn you on, Dryfus? Then can she suck
your cock for you? Or what. A black girl sucking my cock, Dryfus said.
A black girl on her knees with her mouth around my dick. Hey, black
girl, Dryfus said. And now he slapped her across the face, as hard as
he could. Hey black cunt girl, you want to suck my cock, huh? Trisha
said, yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. I do. Yes. Please. Please. On your
knees, black girl, Dryfus said. On your knees, nigger, Ralph said.
Show us your tits, Trisha nigger gal. Trisha sobbing gasping moaning
shaking took off her blouse. She had no bra. Dryfus slapped her
breasts hard. Back and forth. Trisha screamed. Dryfus took out his
cock. Okay, black girl, okay, but you better do it good, and I mean
good, and I want you to suck it slowly, very slowly, lovingly, using
your tongue and your lips and your throat and your tits too, and he
slapped her breasts again back and forth. Now. And Trisha sobbing and
gasping and whimpering took his cock in her mouth and slowly slowly
slowly did what he wanted and Dryfus was moaning and grinning and
twisting and saying Shit shit shit this black bitch is such a good
cocksucker, that mouth is just fabulous, yes bitch that tongue that's
it that's it take all of it god slowly what a mouth what a girl. Ralph
said, she can do it for hours, because if I start getting angry I will
hang her up by her hair and whip her bloody. I love  this bitch,
Dryfus said, I love this black bitch, I want to buy her and use her
fucking mouth forever. You want to buy this nigger? Ralph said. How
much, Dryfus said. No! Trisha said, crying. And Ralph hung her up by
her hair and whipped her for an hour straight, until she was begging
Dryfus to buy her. How much? Dryfus said. Six million dollars, Ralph
said. I can't afford that, Dryfus said. Okay, Ralph said, how about
fifty cents? Sold, Dryfus said. And Trisha was crying and sobbing and
sucking his cock. Slowly. Lovingly. Deliciously. Fantastically.
Moaning and whimpering and mewling with agony and horror and sucking
him slowly on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on
and on and on............. 

