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Thailand Torture Toy
author: John Argus
ONE Wendy leaned forward over the rail and stared at the water flowing past. Actually they were the ones moving. The water wasn't going anywhere, she thought, just being shoved aside a little as the yacht slid through it. There was little wind so the boat wasn't moving very fast. Wendy kept wandering on deck to see if the wind might have picked up a little. Her father refused to turn on the motor and she was eager to get ashore somewhere, anywhere. She was sick of this boat. Oh, it had sounded great at first, cruising through the South Pacific on a hundred foot sloop, just basking in the sun and relaxing. But after weeks of it she was bored, bored, bored. She'd gotten enough sun to last her forever, and enough ocean to last her longer than that. Besides which there really wasn't all that much interesting to see, even ashore. If they'd been cruising through the Mediterranean or maybe along the coast of Europe things would be different. What was there out here anyway? Singapore was the only place that had looked half civilized. Ever place else was banana land. They'd just left Malaysia, a crummy looking place that wouldn't know what a good disco was if one dropped out of the sky. It, like all the other places, was filled with icky little brown and yellow people, almost none of whom could speak English. They all seemed to live in crummy looking huts made of sticks or grass, or worse yet, made of cardboard or corrugated tin. The Philippines had been a dump that seemed to have the largest collection of prostitutes in the world. To make matters worse, her sulking wasn't having much effect on her father. She'd thrown tantrums and pouted around the boat for days, all to no effect. She was still stuck here in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do. She was seriously considering having an affair with one of the cruddy deckhands, and making sure they were discovered by her father, just so he'd get so pissed at her, he'd send her home for sure then. Not that he had any illusions about her virginity, she supposed, but doing it with a common sailor type would drive him crazy. She'd been waving her ass around in front of him for the last couple of days, much to his annoyance, but so far wasn't willing to get drastic. She had taken to wearing a tiny thong bottom that was little better than a G-string, and a top that she'd found after boarding was a couple of sizes too small. Now as she moved away from the rail and wandered down towards the back of the boat, she knew that every one of the men she passed stared at her with lust filled eyes. She could have any one of them if she desired it. So far she didn't. Like her father, the thought of her rolling around with some commoner type was rather nauseating to her. Her tastes ran to the more sophisticated, even effete type of men. So much so that several times they'd turned out, much to her disgust, to be gay. She'd even tried to turn one around, thinking that any man, even a queer, would respond to her womanly arts and guile, and especially, to her body. She had no illusions about her body's effect on men, not since she'd been twelve years old and had developed an hourglass figure almost overnight. Her body had only gotten better since then, in the care of her masseuse, her exercise coach, and her almost daily body waxes, nail jobs, and the indulgence of special and ultra-expensive body oils. Now her skin and hair shone with health and beauty, was perfectly shaped and disciplined, and helped her get most anything she wanted in life. Her hair, thick, lustrous golden wave, flowed around her shoulders and over her breasts to her belly. It framed her small, exquisitely delicate face, with it's pert, upturned nose, thick, sensuous lips, and wide, bright green eyes. Her body would male a centerfold jealous, with wide rounded hips, a tiny waist, smooth belly and high, firm, round breasts. Her buttocks were an flawless, and precisely sculpted, and her legs were long and smooth and tapered smoothly into trim ankles and tiny feet. She had taken great and malicious delight in displaying herself around her father, knowing that he, like any man, could not avoid lecherous thoughts around her when she was half naked. She'd even tried to go around topless, but he'd put a quick stop to that, despite her arguments. She was just waiting until she turned twenty-one, and got control of her trust fund, then she'd make sure she got into one of those mens magazines in her birthday suit. That'd show him, and everyone else of course. She had a great body, and didn't care who knew it. When she'd been younger, she'd been a real whore, mostly so she could show off her body to her lovers and see the appreciation and lust in their eyes. She'd had scores of adult lovers when she'd been in her teens, most of them her teachers, people who worked for her father, servants, that sort of thing. She'd had few affairs with boys her own age, considering them immature. That was still pretty much the case. Most of the men she went to bed with now were a decade or two older than her. They knew how to treat a woman's body, didn't squeeze and grasp her so she was left with bruises. She liked her sex slow and easy, like on a plush rug before a fireplace, with aged brandy or champagne, preferably with her on top. She sighed and moved down the stairs into the narrow corridor that ran the length of the boat, or ship as her father insisted on calling it. She smiled coyly at one of the crewmen as she sashayed past him, feeling his eyes bore into her round bottom. She reached her room, or cabin, going inside and closing the door behind her, then dropping flat on her back on the big bed and picking up the remote control unit. She turned on the TV and VCR and then turned up the sound of the music video. There were hundreds, in fact, thousands of tapes on board, but she was bored with watching TV. Still, there wasn't much else to do. She She slid her arms up behind her head and watched the musical, sniffing critically as the bimbo who was dancing to the music showed her cleavage. A tit job for sure, she thought. She moved forward and popped the tape out, then reached beneath her bed for another one, not one from her father's collection. It slid in smoothly and she lay back again on her bed watching. This tape was one of the ones she'd gotten Jimmie, one of the servants at the New York home, to buy for her. The image stabilized and she watched a huge black man walk forward. Muscles rippled all over his frame, bulging out his arms and legs as he approached a young, small, pretty blonde girl. His cock was semi-erect, already incredibly thick, and long. The girl looked up at him through wide blue eyes, blinking and looking fearful. She was wearing a schoolgirl's uniform, not unlike the one Wendy wore at the prep school she attended. The black man moved purposefully forward, his bald head gleaming in the camera lights. He reached the girl and grabbed her hair, jerking her up against a wall. His hand came around her throat and held her tightly as his other hand casually stripped her. The girl sobbed and whined as he tore her clothes off, but didn't put up much of a fight. Wendy watched cynically, though with some interest. She drew her legs up a little and spread them apart. She slid her hand down over her pussy and began to rub her clitty as she watched. The girl's breasts were revealed, huge and fat, with giant brown nipples that Wendy thought were really gross, especially compared to her own small pink ones. The black man threw her back on a bed then climbed in on top of her. He knelt over her face, his cock swaying back and forth, brushing against her lips. He cuffed her hard, knocking her head to one side, then gripped her hair and drove his cock into her mouth. Wendy fast forwarded a little, not really liking blowjobs. She stopped to watch with a sigh of appreciation when the black guy got the little blonde to swallow his entire cock. Wendy knew from personal experience how difficult that was, especially with a cock that long and thick. The black guy face-fucked the blonde for long minutes as the cameras closed in, watching the seemingly unending length of black cock-meat as it slid relentlessly past her lips and down her throat, then reappeared, wet and glistening with her spit. Wendy curved her finger and slipped it into her pussy, driving it down her tight pussy hole. She was rubbing and lightly squeezing her breasts with her other hand as she stroked her fingers over her clitty and fingered herself. The black guy had enough mouth and pulled out, then picked up the little blonde's legs and shoved them way back against her chest, jamming down her ankles until they were actually pressed against the side of the blonde girl's head. Her puss was gaping wide and open for the camera's eye. The slit, with it's pink, wet flesh, lay revealed and vulnerable as the black guy jabbed his cock at it several times, finally catching and forcing the round helmeted cockhead into her. Wendy watched with anticipation, rubbing herself harder and sliding two fingers in and out of her pussy. The black man simply threw his hips down and forward, skewering the little blonde, forcing his thick, long cock down into her with a single brutal thrust. Wendy heard the girl's gasp and cry of pain and knew that was no act. You couldn't take a cock that size, that fast without pain. She rubbed harder at her clitty, grinding her hips in slow circles on the bed and humping upwards against her fingers. The black man began to hammer his cock down into the little blonde without any restraint at all. He fucked her furiously, savagely ramming his muscular body down into her, rutting his cock in and out of her pink pussy-slit with unrestrained force and velocity. Wendy had never been fucked like that and never really wanted to. She had fantasies about it though, as did every woman and girl. The fantasy about being brutally taken by some handsome, muscular beefcake type, just... USED for his pleasure, like a whore. Her eyes were locked on the screen as the black man pounded down into the little blonde. She heard little grunts then that weren't coming from the screen and felt her awareness of the picture slipping as her body's reactions began to obscure her other senses. Her body hummed with sexual energy. She felt her belly churning and tumbling and her crotch burning and steaming with need. Her breasts were hugely swollen, and shot fire into her chest every time she tweaked one of her hard little nipples. She was bouncing her bottom up and down on the mattress now as the black guy really gave it to the little blonde. He was bouncing his whole huge, heavy body up and down on her folded, doubled up body. His cock was tearing in and out of her like a pile driver. Wendy stuffed three finger into her own pussy, ramming them in and out as she imagined herself under a huge, savage black man, imagined him rutting down into her with his giant black cock, imagined him squeezing and kneading her tender breasts. She moaned low in her throat, her fingers dripping wet as they jammed deep into her box. She could feel her arousal deepen, feel her excitement mount. Her body was afire with sensuous lust which was growing more and more intense. On the screen, the black guy finished fucking the little blonde and the screen abruptly changed images. Now the blonde was bent over the black man's lap, his hand came down hard on her upturned buttocks, slapping with a loud crack and leaving a big red hand mark. He began spanking her heavily as she sobbed and bawled and kicked her little legs up and down. Then he rolled her off and forced her onto her hands and knees, kneeling behind her. His hard cock thrust into her pussy and he began to fuck her like a dog. Wendy never allowed her lovers to fuck her in that position, considering it demeaning, but now it increased her excitement as her pussy sent shockwaves of hot pulsating lust rippling through her shuddering body. Her fingers were sliding in and out of her sopping pussy-pit almost as fast as the black guy was fucking the blonde. She felt the prelude to orgasm and rubbed harder still over her clitty, then grabbed her left breast in her hand and squeezed her fingers down hard, sending a hard biting blast of heat into her chest and belly. She came then, bouncing her hips up and down on the bed as wave after wave of sexual release rolled through her. Her mouth opened in a soundless cry of ecstasy as her back arched, her chest jutting upwards, her bottom rising off the bed and her weight coming down on her shoulders. Then she fell back exhausted to the mattress, laying there spreadeagled, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she regained her breath. She puffed a breath off air up to knock the hair out of her face, then reached up with her hand and shoved and pulled the mass of tangled blonde hairs away. She lay there for a few minutes, then sat up, turning off the VCR and getting out of bed.. She wandered into the bathroom for a shower, thinking about how best to annoy her father at dinner that night. Dinner on the High Finance was a formal affair, with her father and his two male guest wearing dinner jackets, and their wives wearing designer dresses that cost enough to have fed a small nation for a year. Besides her father, there was his current wife, a sleek looking brunette with big breasts and a mindless stare. She wasn't much older than Wendy, much to the latter's disgust. Her name was Cindy, and she was her father's current showpiece. The other two women were of similar ilk, one a long legged brunette with big breasts, the other a short redhead with big breasts. All three were clad in tight fitting, low cut dresses that revealed all their charms. Wendy considered all of them to be little better than whores. She herself dressed much plainer. She wore a very simple short, white dress. It covered her chest demurely, but the hem descended no more than a half inch below her buttocks. It was incredibly tight, revealing every detail of her body's musculature, from her flat belly to her high breasts and round hips. She wore no bra or underpants, since those would have showed through the material. She had the smug pleasure of seeing her father's two partners eye her with carefully discrete interest as she approached. She was, she knew, much better looking than the sluts they had brought with them. "You're looking... lovely tonight, dear," Cindy said, frowning slightly. "Why thank you, Mother dear," Wendy said, all wide eyed. Cindy's frown deepened. "Don't get snotty, Wendy," her Dad said. "Who? Me?" "Oh, leave the poor child alone, Alfred." Mrs Young said, bobbing her twenty three year old head. "You're always arguing with her." "Girl has no respect," her father grumbled. "Aren't you about ready for college, dear?" Mrs. Young, asked, smiling sweetly. "Aren't you?" Mrs. Young glared. Her husband guffawed, slapping the table and throwing his arm around his "wife", hugging her tightly. "Young" was a good name for Becky Young, since she was a good thirty years younger than her husband. She drew in a deep breath, accentuating her large breasts. "Don't be fresh, Wendy," her father snapped. "Well excuse me. I was only asking a question," Wendy said. The other woman, the little redhead, Holly, kept her mouth shut. She didn't want to get into any kind of conversation with Wendy, not after the girl had caught her sniffing a line of coke that afternoon. Her husband was a big time anti-drug campaigner who advocated locking up all drug users on a deserted island. "Young people today simply have no respect," Holly's husband, Roger said. "Is that why you married a child?" Wendy inquired acidly. "Wendy!" her father snapped. "Oh fuck off, Daddy," Wendy said. "I'm not going to act like the charming little girl for your friends and their whores." Which was how she came to be in her room, while the others ate dinner. Like I care, she humphed to herself, munching on caviar and sipping straight champagne from the bottle. She was, she decided, going to jump ship at the next stop and use her credit cards to get her on an aeroplane home, even if she had to fly coach. She stripped and put on the top of her black satin pyjamas, then sat on the bed to watch a movie. It was something about some bigshot business guy who was cheating on his taxes and got found out and sent to jail. Wendy allowed herself the luxury of imagining her father going through that, though she wouldn't want that to happen for real as long as she needed to live off his money. Another two years, four months and eleven days, though and she'd be twenty-one and free. The boat heeled over sharply and she fell forward on the mattress, spilling her glass all over the silk sheets. She pushed herself back with an angry curse, then slammed the glass down on the night table and rang the bell for a servant. She cursed her father, the boat, the crew and the ocean with equal impartiality, staring sullenly at the door so she could give whoever showed up a real nasty tongue lashing. Then the boat heeled far over in the other direction and she fell back with a startled squawk. "What the fuck is going on?" she snarled, patting her hair back into place as she tried to stand up. She hung onto the side of the bed to steady herself as she walked towards the door. The boat heeled over again and she staggered across to the door, hanging onto the handle to keep from falling. She started to open it, then grimaced and looked back to the bed, where her robe lay. The tops of the pyjamas barely covered her naked rump and were thin and flappy in any kind of breeze. There was shouting and yelling coming from above her, very loud shouting. Then there was a series of loud bangs and screams. She blinked in confusion, her instincts to go out and yell at somebody suddenly being overcome by the realization that something could be seriously wrong. She jerked open the door and yelled at a crewman who was running past. The man stopped abruptly and turned to stare at her. "What the fuck is going on?" She demanded, thinking as she did, that he didn't look at all like the perfectly groomed and manicured crew members she'd seen so far. In fact, he was an oriental and she couldn't' remember there being any orientals on the crew. Instead of answering her he lunged forward, throwing his arms around her and knocking her back through the doorway until the back of her legs hit the foot of her bed and she tumbled back into it. He fell atop her, his hips between her spread legs as he gripped her hair and tried to kiss her. She spat and cursed, outraged that he would dare touch her, trying to claw his face, and succeeding in leaving deep furrows down one cheek. He yelled loudly, in some ignorant language and then punched her in the face. Wendy's head was knocked back to the mattress and her yelling stopped as she blinked up at him in pain and astonishment. No one had ever hit her before. His lips mashed down bruisingly hard against hers and his hand squeezed her breasts through the thin top. He mumbled and hissed in whatever language he owned and ground down against her sex. Wendy was petrified and frozen, unable to react to something that was completely outside her range of experiences. The man jerked his rough trousers down and brought out his cock, erect and angry looking. He grinned nastily at Wendy, and placed the head against her blonde fringed slit, then lunged forward, driving it into her body. He shoved his hips forward, forcing the cock deep into her soft, tender tunnel as his hands tore open her top and latched around her breasts. Wendy was whimpering and staring at him in shock, not daring to move for fear of being struck again. The man's cock ploughed down deep into her sheath, filling her with it's male hardness as he humped furiously against her. His lips came down on hers again, pressing roughly, hotly against her own. His tongue jammed into her mouth, whipping around inside her oral cavity as he lunged back and forth on top of her, pounding his cock in and out of her dry sex. Wendy could vaguely hear screams and yells from far away, but paid them little heed as she lay there, wide eyed beneath her rapist. His hands were savagely squeezing and twisting her breast meat, bringing pain to her chest and more tears to her eyes. She began to cry openly, sobbing and bawling as the man rutted into her. He cuffed her roughly, the back of his hand knocking her head aside. Then he gripped her hair, pulling it back as he held her face still and brutally crushed her lips with his. His hips and belly rode back and forth against her inner thighs. Her legs were splayed wide and unmoving as he took her savagely. He lunged forward again and again, driving his cock into her with short, furiously fast strokes. He smelled of fish and oil and his hands left a slimy trail of sweat wherever they touched. They fastened around her soft white buttocks then, squeezing tightly, digging into the smooth flesh as he grunted and groaned and mumbled in cruel pleasure above her. His cock rutted into her like a mad dog, sliding back and forth between her taut pussy-lips as he rode her for his own satisfaction. She was a tool for his enjoyment, with as little importance as a dog. He used her body to jerk-off in, pounding furiously in his eagerness to come off. The man groaned and stuffed his cock deep inside her, holding still as his eyes narrowed and his mouth gaped open. Wendy felt his cum spitting down into her belly as he came, his hands roughly squeezing her breasts and pulling her hair. Then he bounced off her, as if suddenly in a terrific hurry. He grabbed her by the hair and jerked her up after him, dragging her out of her room and down the corridor to the rear of the boat. Wendy yelped and whined and sniffled as she hurried after him. She heard more of the explosions and realized now they must be gunshots. She couldn't understand that, couldn't see why anyone would be shooting guns on the High Finance. The man threw her forward and she staggered into the arms of another Asian man. He glared fiercely at her and jerked her forward again. There were half a dozen others there, all of them throwing things off the stern of the boat into a smaller boat tied up to one side. All of them crouched low, and Wendy realized why when a man gave a grunt and fell forward, a gaping, bloody hole in the back of his head. She stared at it in stunned horror, watching the blood bubble out. Then someone shoved her forward and another man lowered her into the arms of a man standing in the boat below. He threw her across the deck where she fell onto her side by a pile of fur coats. The other men began dropping over the edge of the High Finance, then, shooting behind them as they did. Another man gave scream and fell forward into the ocean, not surfacing. The boat's motor gave a growl and they moved rapidly away from the yacht. Wendy watched its lights recede into the darkness with a growing horror and fear. She looked around her at the rough looking Asian men who were crouching below the sides of the boat, keeping low as the occasional bullet thumped into the rear. She suddenly longed desperately for her boring little cabin on the yacht and began helplessly whimpering again as she thought about the terrible ordeal she would soon be going through. For she had no doubt whatsoever that these men would rape her, and then probably kill her, maybe throwing her into the sea to drown. The lights of the yacht disappeared and the men began talking and then getting to their feet. They ignored her at first, pawing through the goods they'd stolen from the High Finance. There were loud arguments, apparently as they divvied things up. Then they all turned and looked at Wendy, crouching in a corner, her torn pyjama top held tightly together by her white knuckled fists. |
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