He wanted to see her body and her beauteous breasts and so he ordered her to get up on her knees. The woman struggled to obey, twisting and turning her body until she was kneeling before him, her arms outstretched behind her, her slender shoulders arched, her pretty breasts presented for his enjoyment. In the dim light he could just make out the little tuft of blond hair that covered her mons. His cock stirred at the view. A good cigar, a good bottle of liquor and a beautiful woman. What more could he want. And then it occurred to him that was something more that he wanted.
“Come here, cunt,” he ordered her. He had looked at her passport and her American identification papers, but for the life of him he could not remember her name. What did it matter anyway? She didn’t need a name,
puta
or bitch or cunt would do. The woman obediently but tediously edged her body over to him, walking on her knees. Her breasts swayed and jerked prettily as she struggled. Her eyes were doleful and wet with tears. He knew that he should slap her around for being so maudlin, but he was in a forgiving mood.
Once the girl had reached him, he put the cigar in his mouth and then leaned over and released her ankles from her wrists. She gave a sigh of relief from behind her gag. He then unfastened the orange cloth that silenced her and filled her mouth and threw it down on the deck. He unbuttoned his pants and instructed the unhappy woman, “Suck my cock, whore.”
Margie had been afraid that that was on the man’s mind. She had wondered when he would get around to it. She knew that she had no choice, but the prospect of putting the man’s tool in her mouth was distressing. She was afraid that she would be too good at it and that he would demand it again and again. Also, she knew what her reaction would be when the hard, thick hot meat was between her lips. She couldn’t help it, it turned her on.
Sadly, the blond prisoner edged herself closer to the man’s waiting cock. He was holding the still soft but hardening member in his right hand while he held his cigar and the bottle of scotch in the other. “Come on,
gringa
, I’m waiting,” he told her, an edge of threat in his voice.
Margie leaned over and took the soft, wide meat between her trembling lips. She felt a tear roll down her cheek as she tasted its saltiness and maleness. She could not help but think of the last cock she had serviced with her mouth, Tom’s. It had seemed so wonderful to bring him pleasure this way, something that she looked forward to doing for him for years and years to come. But now here she was, on the deck of a pirated ship, kneeling naked and bound with a murderer’s member in her mouth, pleasuring the same man who might slit her throat and toss her overboard at the slightest whim.
The distraught woman let her lips circle around the bulbous head of the killer’s cock. He gave a soft sigh as the warmth of her mouth transferred itself to his manhood. Slowly, she pressed her lips downwards, subsuming the meat inside her and over her tongue, letting the man feel the pleasure of the gentle pressure on his thickening shaft. As the rod grew harder, the combination of the male odor of his loins, the taste of his flesh and the soft textured hardness in her mouth made her lust begin to grow. “Oh, God,” she thought, “Why am I here? Why am I doing this? How will this all end?”
Determined to bring a swift conclusion to this, her most recent ordeal, Margie began to work her lips up and down the man’s shaft quickly. He placed his hard, powerful hand on her head and grabbed her hair. “Do it slowly, cunt. And don’t let me come until I tell you.”
Margie shivered at the man’s order. He might make her do this for an hour, or more! It would be hard to hide her arousal. And what if she made a mistake and his cock spouted its warm, viscous fluids before he was ready? She had already been beaten by him twice and didn’t want to experience it again.
Slowly, deliberately, Margie worked her lips up and down the man’s hardened pole. The boat rocked slightly as it drifted at anchor and she had to spread her knees wider to keep her balance. There was a slight breeze over the lake and it felt good on her naked body. The night was silent except for the occasional calling of a night bird, the faint sound of the boat swishing on the water and the occasional, muted sounds of distress from the woman below decks. Her eyes were closed, intent on her task, but she could hear the man take an occasional drink of his bottle or the sigh of his breath as he released a cloud of smoke from his cigar. He groaned from time to time as she did her best to please him. She used her tongue diligently to stroke his shaft. She circled his knob with her lips and tickled the tiny exit hole on top with the tip of her tongue, she varied her motions, giving him long, languorous strokes almost all the way down to his balls and then short, staccato ones until she heard him moan with delight and became afraid that she might make him come by accident.
The sensation of his member in her mouth was making her passions grow higher and higher. She yearned to move one of her imprisoned hands between her thighs and stroke her puss. She was beginning to become overwhelmed with the passionate act in which she was engaged. She tried to suppress it, but she was not successful, and a low, impassioned moan escaped her lips.
Diego was sitting back, looking at the stars and enjoying the working of the woman’s lips on his crank. She was good for a
gringa
. Of course, only genuine Latina women knew how to suck a cock properly. He remembered when he was younger and just learning his trade, he and a few of his teenage friends had lifted an American college student off of the streets of
Caracas
. They had used her for three days before they dumped her body out in the swamps beyond the city. The crying, hysterical girl couldn’t suck a cock worth a damn. But she had wonderful tits. He felt a twinge of remorse for what they had done to the beautiful girl. But the thing of it was, no matter how many beautiful young women you used up, there were always more. They kept coming and coming and their delightful bodies and pretty faces just begged for violation.
The killer’s mind returned to the mouth which circumnavigated his dick at the present moment. He heard the girl moan and realized that sucking his cock was getting her off. He laughed at her wantonness. She should be thankful, he thought, that she got to suck the famous cock of Diego Badoya before she died. He doubted that she would live to tell anyone, but it was an experience that no woman should miss before she moved on.
Three times, Margie had to slow her head’s motions to almost a stop in order to prevent the man from coming. She kept thinking of how much pleasure the man’s appendage had brought her and how she had come and come and come while he plowed her. In spite of her unhappiness at being his prisoner and her being forced to pleasure him, she began to yearn for the taste of his spew on her tongue. She could feel the tightness in her breasts and the tingling of her loins as she caressed the fat pole again and again. She knew that she was going to come when he did, to her shame and dismay. He would see it and laugh and probably in the future tell his nefarious
compadres
of the time that he made a
gringa
whore come with her own mouth.
Diego was reveling in the woman’s efforts. At last he could take no more and his need came upon him. “Now, cunt,” he told her. “Make me come now.”
Released from caution, Margie tightened her lips’ grasp of the hot, rigid meat and accelerated her head’s motions. The man grabbed her hair at the top of her head and began pumping her head up and down at a frantic pace. Margie cursed herself as she felt her orgasm building. Suddenly, her mouth was flooded with the man’s bitter tasting juice and the cock began to throb and convulse in her mouth. Her own orgasm came and she issued muffled moans and cries as her body shook with pleasure. She took his spew down her throat, relishing its taste. The man’s grip on her head grew tighter and tighter as his cock pumped a stream of his cum inside her.
With a loud groan, Diego released the girl’s hair. “
Now that was a blow job!
” he thought. And she came too! He pulled her mouth from his softening piece and taunted her, “You like my prick,
putita
? I think you missed your vocation in life. You’ve been wasting your life as a
professore
. You should have become a whore long ago.” He laughed lugubriously. He took the bottle of scotch and introduced it to her lips. “Here,
puta
, have something to wash it down with.” Margie opened her mouth and coughed and choked as a long stream of the hot liquor descended her throat. It spilled over her chin and down on her breasts. She welcomed the dizzying effects of the booze. She felt like she could drink a gallon. Anything to suppress the thoughts of what she had become.
The bandit capped the bottle and put it down on the deck. He then pushed the bound whore over to her belly and retied her fee to her ankles. He picked up the filthy, orange gag and reinstalled it on her face. He was tired. The adrenaline of action and the exhilaration of his victory had left him and he needed sleep. He took off his bloodstained shirt and after making a little pillow of it, lay down on the deck. In a few moments he was asleep.
Chapter Six
A Visit to
Porto Vaca
In the morning, Diego pulled the boat over to the shore of the lake until it was hidden by a large clump of trees that were bent over and touching the water. There was just enough room to squeeze the boat in behind it. He brought Marjorie down to the galley and had her kneel next to the small table while he raided the small, battery powered refrigerator. There were eggs and sausages. He put a pot of coffee on the small propane stove. There were two cooking rings and on the second one he began to fry the meat in a large pan.
The bed was in a compartment right off of the galley and, after a while, Margie could hear the crying and moaning of the young black haired girl from the night before as Pepe took his morning delight from her. They emerged just when her captor had taken the sausages off of the fire. He had found peppers and onions and some kind of root vegetable in the pantry and he chopped them up and tossed them in the pan with some oil. He spiced it up with some paprika, pepper and salt and, after they were crispy and blackened around the edges, he tossed in four eggs and began to scramble them.
Margie’s mouth watered at the frying food. Frying was not her thing usually, too much fat and carbon for her diet, but she wasn’t thinking about that now. All she had eaten for three days were the awful canned beans that Pepe had cooked. Her captor’s minion had taken a seat at the small fold-out table of the galley. The naked black haired girl, her arms bound behind her and wearing the gag that Pepe had installed last night, knelt next to her so close that the skin of their arms touched. Margie could see the tracks of her tears on her pretty face and her disconsolate eyes. Her heart went out to her. Last night, she had seen her husband or lover or whatever he was cruelly murdered by the men who now held her captive. She had undergone a night of savage rape at the hands of one of them. And here were the men now using her galley as if it were their own.
When the meal was ready, Diego dumped the contents of the frying pan out onto two plates, poured two cups of hot, steaming coffee and sat down opposite his
compadre
. The two men guzzled down the meal like there was no tomorrow. There was a little bottle of hot sauce inside a wooden shelf next to the table and the men kept sprinkling it on the eggs. They laughed and joked while they ate, especially about the females. Diego told Pepe about the
gringa
’
s
cocksucking inspired orgasm and Pepe told his boss about the tight cunt of the dark skinned girl. He complained that he couldn’t get her to open her mouth to suck his cock no matter what he did to her. Diego assured him that he had a solution for that and that they would take care of the girl later that morning.
Marjorie started to cry when all of the food had been consumed. The callous bandit ignored her. After the dishes and frying pan had been tossed into the small sink, he took two bowls from the cabinet and then led her back above decks. He had her kneel and went to the pile of boxes in the stern. He pulled out a can from one of them, placed it on its side on the deck and removed his
machete
from his belt. With one expert blow he lopped the top of the can right off. He poured its contents into one of the bowls and then laid it in front of the unhappy blond woman. He took the other bowl, leaned over the side of the boat and scooped out some lake water and put it next to the other.
“Breakfast for you,
puta
,” he said merrily as he undid her gag. “And you’d better eat all of it or you’ll get a whipping.”
Margie looked disconsolately down at the bowl of brown mush. It looked like some kind of canned stew, but something they might eat in the poorest neighborhoods of the poorest city on earth. It had a foul aroma and her stomach turned at the thought of eating it. Her stomach ached from hunger, but she would have rather suffered her hunger pangs than eat the concoction in front of her. Pepe had brought the other girl up and she was looking at Margie with disgust. “She’ll learn,” Margie thought. “It’s just a matter of time.”
Rather than suffer the whip, Margie bent her head forwards and down to the deck and began to lap up the awful, crapulous food. It was sour and bitter tasting and she cried all the while as she mouthed it down. Her long, wheat colored hair hung down on either side of her face, scraping the dirty deck. She was conscious of the swaying of her breasts as she leaned over, her knees spread so that she could get low enough to feed herself. “
I’m just some kind of animal to him,
” she thought miserably. “
A pretty, fuckable animal.
”