"Christ! I thought I could… hold out for a long time," he grunted after only a few more slamming dips into her depths, "but… can't… can't do it!"
"Go!" Trish grunted, sucking his cock back into the splashing recesses of her pussy. "God, go ahead. Load my cunt with hot jizz, you fucking stallion! Christ, your prick is so immense that I…"
Another wave of excruciating pleasure bit and chewed its way through her guts, and Trish felt Charlie's cock begin to swell again.
The pain was so intimately intense that it felt as if the walls of her cunt were being blistered, but she didn't mind. All she wanted was more rough fucking.
"Fuck!" Charlie bellowed, fucking her with all the strength he could muster. Gallons of scalding cum seemed to boil upwards from his convulsing balls, throbbing out to explode from his cockhead and spray all the way to the back of her sloshing cunt.
When his jism bubbled into her pussy, Trish thought her guts would blow up. Her pain and joy reached levels she had never imagined. It was almost as if she had left her body and was watching as it thrashed and screamed beneath the body of the rutting man.
The spasms made her cunt suck and pull at Charlie's cock as if it were her mouth doing the work, instead. Each spray of jism only made her hungry for more. She pulled and milked at his cockmeat, draining him, swallowing him alive through the man-eating slit of her cunt.
"Eat my prick all the way in, you cum licking slut," Charlie grunted, his orgasm reaching its peak and then pushing him completely over the edge. "Christ, it feels like your cunt is pulling my cock off."
Finally, they both collapsed, totally exhausted. Charlie's full weight lay across her stomach and chest. His eyes were closed as if he were asleep, and his lips rested gently near her ear.
Trish lay there, torn and confused. The weight and pressure of his cock still inside her pussy acted as a reminder of the pain and pressure.
Oh God, she moaned silently in her bewilderment, how could I have allowed myself to do that? Is it so easy for some brute of a man to take my love for Dave and just throw it aside?
But there was no doubt in her mind that what she had undergone was something that few modern women ever knew. Brutal, uncivilized lust had been forced through her defenses, and it had been so overpowering that nothing she had ever known before had prepared her for its attack.
She tried to relax, tried to sleep. The images were too brutal, too wonderful for her confused mind to handle.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Trish didn't have very long to turn her questions over in her mind. Charlie suddenly rose, pulling his cock out, and began putting on his pants. There was a loud knock at the door.
"You about finished in there?" another stranger's voice called from beyond the closed door.
"Yeah, come on in, Greg," Charlie said, looking over at Trish with a smile. "She's all warmed up for you."
Greg? Oh, God, Mike's other friend. Then the door opened, and Trish's eyes nearly popped. It was a boy of eighteen who looked enough like Charlie to be his brother if it hadn't been for the obvious differences in their ages. The only other difference she could see was that Greg was a good six feet in height. She couldn't help but wonder if he was bigger than Charlie in other ways, as well.
"Hey, baby," Charlie smiled sadistically, "this is my son Greg. Just thought you might like to be introduced before the young stud fucks your brains out." Charlie laughed. "I'm gonna go get a beer, kid. See what you can do with this sweet thing." Then he left them alone.
"Come on, sweet meat," Greg smiled, "you and I are going to the basement right now."
He began walking toward her threateningly. The boy hadn't even put a hand on her, but Trish already felt more humiliated than at any other time during the whole horrible day. She wasn't a woman to him. She wasn't even a whore. Just another piece of meat to be hung like a trophy deer head over his mantle. One more notch to be chalked up for his cock.
At first, she started to fight, but decided it was hopeless. The boy's strength was so overwhelming that there was nothing she could have done against him anyway.
With no more effort than Trish would have used with a pillow, Greg picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. His torso was like his father's, barrel chested, broad of shoulder, muscular arms that corded and rippled as they moved beneath the sleeves of his T-shirt.
She had looked into his eyes when he picked her up. They were as black as his father's, but somehow even more menacing than the older man's.
Greg carried her down the stairs, his right arm locked around her waist to hold her firmly in place, his left hand buried between her legs with one of his fingers pushing between the lips of her still-dripping cunt.
They reached the living room, and Trish saw Mike sitting comfortably in a chair while Ginny knelt before him, sucking greedily at his cock. Charlie was behind the young girl, a beer can in one huge hand and one of her firm tits being crushed in the other. His massive cock was buried to the hilt in her tight, blond-furred cunt, and he was fucking in and out of her pussy while using her tit as a handle with which to pull himself back and forth.
Ginny was whimpering and slobbering with pleasure as the two cocks impaled her from both ends.
"We're going to the basement," Greg said in passing. "Come on down when you're finished with that cunt."
He took Trish downstairs and dumped her onto a mattress. Trish found that she was so exhausted from the constant fear and the day's repeated fuckings that she couldn't even attempt to get up from the floor. Her whole body was consumed by the poisons of fatigue.
Across the room, Greg was rummaging through a chest of drawers. What he came out with filled Trish with even greater fear. Four sets of manacles dangled, clanking in the basement's stillness.
"Greg, no," Trish begged. "Don't put those on me. I'll do anything you say… anything you want."
"You don't understand, slut," Greg said, snatching her up from the bed. "It doesn't matter whether you'll follow my orders or not. The bracelets for your pretty body are just a part of the fun and games."
Quickly, efficiently, the youth snapped a manacle around one of her wrists and attached the other end of it to a ring suspended from the ceiling. Then he repeated the process with her other arm and attached it to another ring.
Next, he put a manacle on each of her ankles, and forcing her legs apart, he fastened the respective end of each set of leg bracelets to pipes that rose from floor to ceiling.
"Now you see, sweet meat," Greg said, walking over and beginning to twist and pull teasingly at her nipples, "this is a little arrangement that your dear hubby set up to use when he works on any of the heavier parts of his construction equipment. But we found some other uses for it. Some people call the thing a traverse winch."
With that, he reached up and gave a quick jerk on the chains that held her arms. To Trish's horror, the whole assembly slid forward. Her arms had been dangling loosely, but now they were stretched so tightly that it felt as if her shoulders were being pulled from their sockets. When he had moved her as far forward as her arms would reach, Greg locked the thing in place.
"Ohhhhhh… Christ!" Trish screamed at the pain that lanced through her arms and chest. "It's killing me!"
"Baby, we're just barely getting started," Greg said. "You just be a little patient." At that, he began pulling off his shirt to reveal the rippling bands of muscle that lay beneath. As he kicked off his shoes and slid his pants down, Trish gasped at the horror that flopped out of his trousers. It was at least as long as Mike's cock, but apparently even bigger around than Charlie's. Veins stood out, throbbing angrily in the dim light of the room.
"Noooo!" Trish shrieked. "I can't take all that. It'll rip me apart!"