Path: newshost.williams.edu!news2.near.net!noc.near.net!howland.reston.ans.net!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!uwm.edu!chi-news.cic.net!newsfeed.internetmci.com!in2.uu.net!news.leonardo.net!n1.wdc.net!pp7.westdat.com!user From: grobert@westdat.com (TheEditor) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: AnmlAct (05/10) "Her Animal Act" Date: 5 Nov 1995 16:52:48 GMT Organization: Western Datacom Lines: 425 Message-ID: NNTP-Posting-Host: pp7.westdat.com body. Nothing had ever felt better to her. She knew he was hanging on the verge of orgasm, just as she herself was. She wanted him to cum -- wanted desperately to feel his thick cock jerking deep inside her belly. "Come, darling! Come, come, come!!" His hands moved up her back, his fingers hooking over her shoulders and pulling her clitoris down roughly against the top of his dick. "Mmmm ... mmm!" "Rubia!" "I'm ready! Shoot it ... oh, shoot it!" He grunted, mashed her ass deep into the mattress and held her there, his cock jerking wildly. "Ohhh," she moaned. "Oh, shit!" She pulled her legs up until her feet were almost to ass level and her soles were flat on the mattress. Using the strength of her leg muscles, she pushed up, lifting her ass from the bed, holding there, supporting his body with her upthrust pelvis. She shuddered from head to toe as the first jet of hot sperm blew from his dancing cockhead and washed over the mouth of her convulsing womb. Then every ounce of strength left her as her own orgasm burst within her loins. It was a blinding flash of unbearable joy. She screamed shrilly, falling back to the bed, her body twitching and jerking as he shot jet after jet of his copious load into her. Her hands held tremblingly to his hard butt, keeping his spurting glans pulled snugly into her sensitive cervix, every nerve in her sweat-soaked body thrilling as his hot cum sprayed into her. Her legs flailed weakly. She sobbed brokenly through it all, then lay exhausted and spread- eagled as he pulled out and got off the bed. A mass of cum oozed from her stretched pussy and trickled warmly down the crack of her quivering ass. Ruth shut her eyes, feeling disgust rise within her now that the heat of her insane lust was past. She felt soiled, totally unworthy of her decent husband and her position in life. A sick feeling swept over her as she realized nothing would ever be the same again. Poor Elliott, she thought. He must never know. How could I have responded to that animal? How can I live with the knowledge of my sin? Dear God ... help me ... help me bear the heavy burden of this wicked night! * * * A hand was on her shoulder, shaking her, a voice calling as if from a distance. "Wake up, rubia." Ruth opened her eyes. Pico's smug face loomed above her. "What are you doing still here? How long have I slept?" "About fifteen minutes is all. You know, you're not a bad fuck ... for a gringa, that is." "Drop dead! Go away. You got what you wanted ... now go away and leave me alone!" "I am going away. It's time for me to return to Panama." "Good. Have a rotten trip!" "Don't wish me any bad luck. You're going with me." "You're out of your mind. I wouldn't go to a dog fight with you." "I'm not asking you to go. I'm taking you." "What?" "You are going to be one of my women ... and a special one, at that." "Wha ... wha-what are you talking about?" "You're a whore now, rubia. My whore. You liked my cock so well that I've decided to take you to Panama and put you in my whorehouse. You'll get lots of cock there ... miles and miles of it." "You're insane," Ruth gasped, sitting up and cringing away, seeing the others for the first time. "Oh my God!" Faustina and the Negro were sitting on the couch beside Elliott, who was still unconscious. Both of them were smiling at her. Carlos stood just inside the door, looking quite pale and nervous, his sheepish eyes refusing to meet her gaze. Ruth tried to cover her breasts and cunt with her hands. "Here. Put this on," Pico said, tossing a faded old dressing gown at her. She slipped it on, buttoning what buttons where left intact with shaking fingers. "I'm not going anywhere with you! Get out of here! All of you!" Pico grabbed her hair and dragged her across the bed. He slapped her hard, backhanded her, kept it up until she was crying and sniveling and docile. "You'll do as I say, puta! I am your master now. The sooner you accept that fact the better off you'll be!" "I'd rather die," Ruth sobbed. "Oh, God ... I'd rather die!" "That can be arranged," Pico said coldly, reaching into his pocket, coming out with a wicked-looking switchblade and snapping it open. He pressed the knife blade threateningly against Ruth's throat. "Decide!" "Oh, dear God!" Carlos gasped. His mouth dropped open. He started toward the bed, then stopped and turned his back. "Well?" Pico demanded. "Which is it, rubia? You may live and be my whore, or I'll slit your throat ... if that's what you really want. Decide!" "I don't want to die," she begged, her large eyes pleading up at him. "Don't hurt me ... please don't cut me!" "Then you choose to be my whore?" The sharp edge of the knife blade pressed at her skin. There was no time for indecision. Any life, even that of a whore, was better than no life. Ruth gulped, nodding her head carefully, shutting her eyes, feeling the scalding-hot tears of humiliation stream down her cheeks. "Say it. Tell me!" "Your whore," she gasped. "I'll be your whore." Instantly the knife left her throat. "A wise choice," Pico said calmly, shutting the knife and putting it back into his pocket. "There was no choice," she moaned. "And you know it." He laughed, extending his hand and helping her from the bed. "Come, meet my sister and Jose. Faustina ... Jose ... this is rubia our new puta." Jose and Faustina nodded, both of them looking her up and down but saying nothing. Ruth cringed at the gleam in Faustina's dark-brown eyes. They shone with interest, glinted with cruelty. Jose was very black and big, a giant Negro with an Afro haircut which made his head appear twice as big as it really was. He was all muscle, his turtleneck shirt clinging to his tapering torso like a second skin. "Jose is a mute. He understands only Spanish but can't speak or write. He is my personal body guard. Strong as a bull, that one is ... with a cock like a mule!" "You're very beautiful," Faustina said. Ruth shivered. "Thank you." "As beautiful as this delicate morsel," Faustina went on, holding up a snapshot. "In a more mature sort of way, of course." ~- Ruth felt the room do a double flip-flop. "That's my daughter," she blurted. "Where did you get that picture?" The evil smile swept back over Faustina's face, and Ruth knew she'd made a terrible mistake. She saw Elliott's wallet on the cushion beside Faustina. "Paula's at home," she said quickly. "In Tulsa." "You lie, puta," Faustina taunted. "No. No, I didn't. Paula's at home ... going to summer school. She couldn't come with us because she had to make up a subject." "I'll take the wheep to you if you're lying to Faustina," she said happily. "Enough," Pico barked. "We must go." "My car is waiting at the back," Carlos said, his voice breaking. "I got rid of their taxi driver ... like you said." "Bueno. This will extend your time to six months, Carlos," Pico said. Then he turned to Jose. "Carry the man out to the car. Carlos will drive up to the airport." Jose picked Elliott up as easily as if he were a child, carrying him in his arms and following Carlos into the hall. "Come, rubia," Faustina ordered, dangling the key to their motel room before Ruth's face. "We will stop for your clothing ... and see if you were lying to me." Chapter 6 The car sat in a darkened corner of the motel parking lot. Elliott slumped in the back seat, breathing rhythmically as he slept. Ruth was in the front seat, flanked by Carlos and Faustina. Carlos squirmed and smoked constantly, lighting one cigarette from the butt of each previous one. Faustina held a gun in her right hand, hiding it with a sweater, keeping the muzzle poked threateningly into Ruth's side. Her eyes shut, her hands clasped together, Ruth prayed silently that Pico and Jose would not discover Paula in the room adjoining hers and Elliott's. She couldn't remember whether Elliott had shut the door after they'd gone in to tell Paula good night, but she hoped he had -- she hoped to God he had! Please, Lord, let the door be shut... let it be locked on Paula 's side -- please, please, please! Those awful men are up there now. Don't let them get my baby in their evil clutches too! * * * Pico slipped the key into the lock, turned it, then opened the door slowly and moved quietly into the darkened motel room. Jose followed him inside, moving even more quietly than Pico despite his large size. After determining there was only one bed, and that it was empty, Pico switched on a lamp and motioned for Jose to close the door. The rooms were all adjoining, like some American motels, but both doors were closed. Pico found the suitcases and put them on the bed, opened, motioning for Jose to fill them with Ruth and Elliott's clothing from the drawers and closet. Then, as Jose began packing, he moved to one of the doors and checked it. It was locked. He crossed the room to the other door and grasped the knob, finding it locked too. "It looks like rubia was telling the truth," he said, more to himself than to Jose, for he'd spoken in English. Then he spoke in Spanish, louder, telling Jose to hurry up and be sure to get all the clothing. He wanted no traces left behind, nothing which would arouse suspicion. Ruth and Elliott would simply disappear and never be heard from again. Carlos had agreed to see that their car was conveniently "stolen," and that it, too, should disappear. Carlos would profit handsomely from that, Pico knew; for once the car was repainted and the identifying markings removed, it could be taken to Mexico City and sold with no questions asked. Carlos had promised to give Pico the money from the illegal sale, as partial payment on what he owed. But Pico wasn't concerned about Carlos paying up. He knew he would manage to get the money together in time. He was too scared to refuse. "Carlos is like a pollo," he said, laughing. Jose glanced at him and grinned, nodding his head. He'd understood only two words -- Carlos and chicken -- but it was enough to give him the meaning of Pico's spoken thought. Still looking at Pico, Jose pulled too hard on the dresser drawer he was opening. It came completely out; and in his attempt to catch it before it fell to the floor, he overreacted and set the light drawer banging loudly against the wall. Startled by the sudden noise, Paula jerked awake and sat up in bed. For a moment she didn't know where she was, and her heart beat faster as she glanced around the strange room in an effort to orient her sleep- dulled mind. Then she relaxed, remembering all. Her parents were back from their night on the town. She could hear movement in their room. Wondering which one of those bright, wild paintings her father had bought, and wanting to kiss them both good night, she slid from her bed and slipped on her robe. She padded barefoot across the room and unlocked the connecting door, swung it open and went through it, rubbing her eyes. She was well into the room when she noticed the dark, lean man and the big muscular Negro looking at her. Gasping, she clutched her robe tightly around her neck and stopped. Pico, thinking and acting very quickly, smiled and said, "You must be Paula." "Yes," she answered, staring at him in utter confusion. "How did you know my name? What are you doing in here? This is my parents' room." "Your parents," Pico said, stalling for time as his mind groped for a way to calm her and keep her from calling out. Paula was much too young and naive to be as frightened as she should have been. She said. "Yes, my parents." "Your parents ... Ruth and ..." "Elliott. Ruth and Elliott Strickland." "Yes. Strickland. I'm sorry I could not recall their full names." "What are you doing with their things?" she gasped, just noticing what was going on. "Who are you?" "Don't be alarmed, Paula," Pico soothed. "But you're packing their things! What are you doing that for? Has something happened to them?" "Yes. I'm afraid so." "An accident! They haven't had an accident?" Smiling inwardly at the unintentional help she'd given him, but forcing his face to look concerned and serious, Pico nodded. "Oh, no! What happened?" "The taxi in which they were riding was struck by another car. Now don't become alarmed, Paula. Calm yourself, my child." "They're hurt! How bad are they hurt? They're not dead ... tell me they're not dead!" "No, no, no," he said, moving to her and putting his hands on her quaking shoulder. "They are going to be fine. They are shaken up pretty badly though. They'll be in the hospital a couple of days. They are there now. That's why Jose and I are here ... to take their things to them." "I'm going too," Paula said. "Of course you are, my child. I've arranged to have a bed for you put into your mother's room. She insisted on it." "I'll get dressed, Mr... ." "Pico. Just call me Pico." "You'll wait for me, Pico?" "Certainly. And, Paula," he called, stopping her in the doorway. "Pack your things." "All of them?" He nodded. "Everything. You won't be coming back to this motel." "I'll hurry." "Please do." Paula shut the door, not bothering to lock it now that she knew the men were there to help. She laid out the things she would wear, then got her suitcase and began packing. Jose stood beside the bed, neglecting his duties, staring after Paula. Pico noticed the gleam in his eyes, the lustful yet tender expression on his face. He also noticed the bulge in his trousers. A new act for the sex show put on nightly in his large whorehouse was immediately born in his mind. It would be a very erotic act, what with Jose so big and black and Paula so small and blonde. And so young and tender, too. A mock rape, he thought, smiling, pleased with himself as the scene unfolded in his mind. Or a real rape, if Paula wouldn't go along willingly with his idea. At any rate, Jose would go along. He'd do anything Pico told him to do. Pico grinned. The act would be perfect to precede Ruth and the donkey waiting for her in the shed behind his place. "Do you like the girl, Jose?" he asked in Spanish. Still looking longingly at the door Paula had gone through, Jose nodded and motioned as if taking her in his muscular arms. "Then you shall have her, my friend ... every night." Grinning broadly, Jose nodded and rubbed the growing bulge his massive prick was causing. He made sign language to indicate he wanted Paula all to himself. "No, Jose. The girl will have to take care of customers too." Jose looked disappointed but acquiescent. "You can't keep her all to yourself. She will be very popular with the customers, especially the older ones. But when we are closed and there are no customers to pay for her, then you may have her." Jose pointed to the bed. He pretended to hold Paula in his arms, shutting his eyes as if sleeping. "Of course, my friend," Pico said. "Every night if you wish it." Obviously very happy with the promised arrangement, Jose went eagerly back to packing Ruth and Elliott's things. Fully dressed and ready to leave, Paula reentered the room, struggling with her heavy suitcase. Pico sat calmly in a chair, smoking a thin, black cigar. The packing finished, Jose was bird-dogging the door, waiting impatiently for it to open. Paula was barely into the room when he rushed to her and, smiling, took the suitcase from her hand. "Thank you," Paula said, returning his smile as best she could in her worried state of mind. His face wasn't at all handsome, what with his broad nose and thick lips, but he seemed very pleasant and helpful. "I didn't get your name." "His name is Jose," Pico said, rising. "Thank you, Jose." Jose beamed, smiling and nodding, looking directly into her blue eyes. "He can't answer you, Paula. Jose is a mute, and he understands only Spanish." "Oh, the poor man!" Paula gushed. "And he seems so nice." Pico grinned. He picked up both suitcases and handed them to Jose, who put one under his arm so he could carry all three. Pico strode to the door and opened it, holding it and motioning Paula to come as Jose led the way. He offered his arm. Paula took it, switching her purse to her other hand and thinking how gallant Latin men were. Holding to his reassuring arm, anxious to get to her injured parents, Paula hurried along beside Pico as they crossed the motel parking lot. "I feel so sorry for Jose." Pico patted her hand, then locked his fingers through hers and led her on toward the waiting car. Holding his hand was more reassuring than holding his arm. Paula squeezed it gratefully, half running now to keep up with his long-strided gait. "I hope my mother's face wasn't hurt. She's got such a pretty face." "There's not a scratch on her face." "I'm relieved to hear that ... I really am. Just how bad are they hurt?" she asked as they drew near Carlos' car. "Were you in the wreck too? I saw your face was hurt." "You ask too many questions," he said, stepping quickly behind her and clapping his hand over her mouth as he jerked her arm painfully and bent it up her back. His action was fast; the pain sharp. For a stunned second Paula didn't understand. She whimpered and struggled, her feet off the ground and kicking the air. Jose had the door open. Paula's head bumped the top of the car as Pico stuffed her into the back seat. The impact addled her, made her dizzy and numb. She moaned softly as she hit the seat and fell against her father. "Paula! Paula!" Ruth yelled shrilly. "Oh, my God ... Paula!" A loud splat sounded as Faustina slapped Ruth viciously. "Shut up, puta! Shut up or I'll kill you! Carlos! Open the trunk! Help Jose put the bags in ... quickly! " "Daddy ... Mommy! What is it! What's happening? They told me you were in an acci-" Pico was in the seat beside Paula, jerking her head back by her long blonde hair, clapping his hand over her mouth even as the door slammed shut. "Shut up, little one. Not another peep out of you!" Frantic, Paula tried in vain to claw and elbow and kick. "No, Paula! Don't," Ruth begged. "He'll kill you if you don't do as he says!" "Listen to your mother, little one, and no harm will come to you." Her eyes wide, extremely frightened, Paula nodded. The grip eased on her hair. She sighed into the tobacco-scented hand covering her mouth and nose. "What are you going to do with her?" Ruth asked fearfully. "Her fate is the same as yours, rubia. I haven't decided about your husband yet." "Let them go," Ruth begged, looking pleadingly into the back seat. Carlos got in and started the car. Jose got in the back seat on the other side of Elliott, pushing him over, crowding Paula tightly between her unconscious father and Pico's hard body. The back door thumped shut. Carlos backed the car around, then drove cautiously from the parking lot. "Please, please let my daughter and husband go," Ruth cried, watching the motel fade into the distance behind the accelerating car. "You've got me. I'll do anything you say ... anything! Only for God's sake let my husband and child alone!" "Faustina," Pico said calmly. "Silence la rubia." Delighted with her assignment, Faustina stiffened her open hand and gave Ruth a sharp judo chop at the base of her skull. Ruth's head jerked. Her eyes snapped shut. She slumped limply against Faustina. "Perhaps we'd better give this one the same treatment," Pico said, pushing Paula forward, bending her so Faustina could chop the back of her neck too. But as Faustina's hand lifted for the blow, Jose jumped forward and grabbed her arm. He looked over Paula's back at Pico, his eyes pleading. "All right," Pico said. "But you'll have to hold her and keep her quiet. One more word out of her and she gets the same treatment rubia got." Jose nodded, picking Paula up and lifting her, putting her in his lap with her legs across her father's lap. Paula screamed and kicked. Then her teeth rattled as Jose shook her violently. Stark fear showing in her eyes, her mouth hanging open in shock, Paula cringed in his lap and glanced up at his face. He was smiling, putting his finger to his lips, then to hers, then wagging it no. She felt the warmth of his body, saw an even greater warmth in his eyes. Sobbing bitterly, she buried her face in his chest and clung to him. The car raced on toward the airport, Carlos driving and puffing nervously at his cigarette. Paula sobbed, her chest heaving, her body jerking as she gasped for breath. Jose's big hands were patting and stroking her, trying to reassure her. Slowly, very slowly, she realized she and her parents were in no immediately danger. She had no idea what lay in store for them. But that was in the future; and at fourteen, the future is never as important as the present. At the present she was being held and comforted. Little by little her sobs diminished until she was sniffling and rubbing her tear-streaked face against Jose's muscular chest. His cheek rubbed back and forth over the top of her head, his hands constantly patting and stroking her back. Finally, heaving a double sigh, Paula relaxed completely. What's wrong with my father?" "Drugged," Pico said. "He'll be all right." "My mother ... what was she talking about? What are you going to do with us?" Pico glared angrily at her. "I am very weary of explanations, little one. Ask your mother when she wakes up. Now shut your mouth!" Afraid to disobey Pico, but not nearly as frightened as she had been, Paula shut her eyes as well as her mouth. She put her cheek against Jose's comforting chest. His strong arms cradled her to him and he began to rock her like a child. It produced a pleasant sensation, a calmness, which she enjoyed in spite of her mind going like a computer. Kidnapped, she thought, we're being kidnapped! She knew she should be horrified. But she wasn't. She was thrilled. A shudder swept over her, followed by a sense of exhilaration. She was in danger for the first time in her life, and it was ever so exciting to her young mind. They'd be taken to some hideout, she supposed, some really terrible and run-down shack. I wonder if they'll tie us up? No, that's too corny! Beans and tortillas -- that's probably all they'll give us to eat while we wait for ransom to be arranged. I wonder how long it'll take? A day ... a week? Two days would be ideal, three at the most -- after that things would get awfully boring Unless they raped us! Oh cripes! I wonder if they'll rape me and mother? Mother would just die if they did! No, I'm being silly. They've got a woman with them, the mean bitch! I wonder how it feels to be raped? It gives me the shivers to think about it. If I am raped, I hope Jose is the one. He's so big and black! Ohhh ... wouldn't that be something? He'd never do it though. I don't have to worry about that. He's much too kind and gentle. I like him ... even if he is a Negro. The car turned into a private airport and pulled to a stop in front of the only hangar. Pico's plane, a small cargo job, old but in good repair, was tethered just a few feet away from the car, sitting in the open, gassed up and ready to go. "Are we still going to stop in Acapulco?" Faustina asked as they climbed from the car. Paula's head snapped up. "We're going to Acapulco?" "We have to," Pico told Faustina, ignoring Paula. "Acapulco! Oh, how groovy!" Pico said something in Spanish, and Jose picked Paula up. "Put me down. I can walk. Carry poor Daddy. I imagine you had to drug him because he put up such a fight, huh?" Pico spoke again. Jose put Paula down and went to the car for Elliott. Carlos carried Ruth, still unconscious, to the plane. They boarded it and Pico started the engines. Carlos unhooked the plane. Pico taxied out to the runway, waited until the engines were warm enough, then