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An hour later, so drunk she could barely speak, Nan Mikell, hair disheveled, naked both of gown and of the pile of jewelry that lay neglected on the rug, lay face down on the end of the big bed, her belly supported by two thick down pillows, and felt the long, amazingly thick cock of Louis-the Behnondo type-inching its way up her anus, one tentative thrust at a time. She was crying; there was blood on the bed; somebody had done this to her before, and it'd hurt even worse then. Her rear was already, she thought, crammed full of her blood and two men's come, and she hardly thought Louis should take so long in entering this once. Put it in, fuck me, come in me, and get it over with, for God's sake, her mind told him. But her mouth, pressed into the bed by the strong hands of the man in front of her-Marc? Yes, that was his name-could say nothing.

It was amazing how she'd begun to understand them. The argot had become intelligible, a little at a time, as she'd been repeatedly had by both men (where was the girl? Marie something? What was her name?) in a variety of ways; she now could make out almost anything they said to each other. It was not direct; her mind had to translate, automatically, and there was a bit of a lag. But she could get their drift the whole time.

Now Marc was saying to him: "Got it in, baby? All right. All right. Now perhaps…yes. Now we play seesaw. Yes. I hold her. Now all the way in… " And suddenly the huge rod rammed brutally all the way inside her; a pang of almost unbearable pain went through her (why didn't she scream? Was this real? Was it a dream, perhaps?) as the unseen apache behind her buried his penis in her behind, all the way to the hair. She heard a savage grunt out of him, and she felt the hard thighs nestled against her own. "All right," Marc said. "Now I have myself some fun."

And she felt his big hands lift her face off the bed and set her hands for her, under her shoulders, holding her upper torso up. At the same moment Louis' unseen hands lifted her hips free, his hard cock still inside her, and pointed her knees toward the bed. She now knelt on all fours on the end of the bed. Louis, impaling her from the rear, stood behind her, his feet on the floor. And Marc, on his knees before her on the bed, forced her face up to look at him.

There, her mind said, there it was again, that long, thin, and slightly crooked penis of his: no bigger around than a small-to-average man's, but incredibly long and as hard as a breadstick and with a slight bend to the left. It was so long that he couldn't get all of it in her, quite; it reached the cervix and battered her unmercifully the one time he'd taken her in the conventional, man-on-top way. It had bloodied her rectum so badly when he'd speared her there that she'd thought she had broken a blood vessel. She'd cried for help, for a doctor; but it'd stopped soon afterward and they'd forced more champagne down her to silence her bellowing. After that he'd had her suck him, and he'd slapped her hard when she hadn't done it right. (And where, where was Marie-Helene while all this was going on? Her befuddled, alcohol-blurred mind had no memory of what had happened to the girl.)

Now, it appeared, that was what he wanted this time. Only she was to do it in this awkward position, with her neck stretched out like a giraffe's, with this beast behind her tearing her anus apart with that unmercifully fat and brutal rod of his. Her eyes blurred with a sudden rush of tears, she abandoned herself to the experience; perhaps if she did what they wanted, and didn't complain, they'd just finish with her and go away soon. (And where, oh where, was Marie-Helene?)

So she balled her helpless hands, holding up her torso, into fists and opened her mouth wide for the giant cock-nine, ten inches at least!-before her, and stifled her own impulse to gag as the long, thin rod came inside her. The last time she'd gagged he had nearly knocked her cold. And as this other penis invaded her, she took a deep breath, breathing through her nose, and stretched her neck out in a line. She knew what he wanted now. He wanted to get all of it inside her, and if she reacted in any but the most passive and accepting of ways he'd beat the daylights out of her. So she strained forward, her lips open, her teeth pulled back to keep from touching him, and let the long cock slide slowly and carefully down her throat. At the uvula she had to repress another impulse to gag, but she stopped it this time. It was amazing what you could do if you had to…

And now, her body used and abused in the most insulting of ways, her mind began a strange and abstract speculation on the nature of what was happening to her. Somehow, for instance, she could imagine that it would be quite possible for a woman to be used this way-even, as now, by two men with nothing more on their minds than their own brutal pleasure-and enjoy it; be turned on by it; even have joyful, screaming, deliciously abandoned orgasms from it There was a tiny part of her that understood this (and a much larger part of her that was thoroughly shocked by the fact).

But herself-it wasn't the act that mattered. It wasn't even important about the pain. If there had been just one more element there…tenderness, even pity, perhaps…she could have stood the pain and rejoiced inside as the man's semen shot hotly inside her, reaming her, raping her, making the tortured flesh of her rectum open wide for his savagely invading cock. She might even have felt her mind give way, slowly, slowly, then felt the floodgates of emotion and desire thrown wide open, letting her come with him even as he ripped her open in this humiliating and degrading fashion (Yes, yes! her mind said now. Yes, I'd love it-even if it hurt, and hurt, the way this does now!). But this way? With nobody asking her? With God!-nobody even telling her she had to do it for him, only these two devils holding her prisoner and talking over her head to each other as they did it, as if she were some sort of animal, some piece, even, of inanimate furniture. No, no, she couldn't enjoy it this way. But…but…

Her eyes opened now. They were watering; she blinked the tears away. She could see his hairy belly, ending in a thick blanket of pubic hair just past the edge of her vision. He was more than halfway down her throat now, edging forward gingerly. It was not consideration for her; he did not want her to gag because it would spoil his pleasure if she did. In some strange way, it occurred to her now, the sexual act they were engaged in was something between the two men; to her, she was not involved at all as a person. Witness the fact that her vagina, after Marc's first inconclusive attempt to have her the ordinary way, had been neglected utterly. Her little clitoris hadn't been touched; the eager lips of her cunt had been left quite alone. She couldn't understand this… But she was shocked out of her reverie as his body moved, now, and the long penis slid all the way in; her nose was buried in the dark forest of his pubic hair.

"Ecoutez," Marc said above her. "Cest Men en-gagie."

In answer, behind her, she felt the thick cock inside her anus twitch with excitement-excitement at the other man's feat of getting the gigantic length of his prick inside the woman's mouth. "Ahhh, Marc," the other man said in a hoarse simper. And his buttocks pulled the big cock back precisely as Marc pulled back on the other end. They were fucking Her in rhythm, now, she thought Each pulled out each thrust softly forward, together, their minds on each other, their eyes-she knew it without looking-on each other's. She could even, in her mind's eye, see them making excited little moues at each other as their buttocks moved in a slow and ponderous rhythm, making little lovers' faces at each other…

Something unseen above her, then, dealt Marc's body a sharp blow, and the rhythm stopped. She heard Marie-Helene's voice say: "Hey! The jewels and the money are in the bag! You two can fuck each other some other time! Let's get out of here"