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Old 06-22-2015, 01:06 PM
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Default 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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