Best Enjoyed Cold Ch. 02

"Put this on me." He said, handing her a plastic bottle.

She wiped sweat from her eyes and leant over him. She carefully tipped a drizzle of brown oil onto his hairy abdomen, then tentatively rubbed it into his pale hips.

"Now my dick." He said. His eyes were shut.

But she noticed the men either side were watching with interest.

Slowly she traced her finger up his penis. It started to thicken.

Now he was shielding his eyes from the sun, looking at her.

"More oil. Make me hard."

She applied a dollop directly onto his shaft. It bucked to meet her fingers.

"Me next." The man on the neighbouring lounger chuckled.

She slithered her fingers up and down his erection. It had been a long time since she had masturbated John, her husband. She screwed her eyes shut.

"Open them."

She looked at him. His face was obscured by the shadow from his hand.

"Jerk me off." He said. "Or your daughter can do it."

After that, she got no respite. The whole line of men wanted her attention. They still had her scuttling to and from the outdoor kitchen, pouring tea, lighting cigarettes, peeling fruit.

But they demanded other things too.

The first man had shot his semen over his oily chest and stomach. There was an enormous quantity. It mingled with his body hair.

"Clean me up."

She looked for a box of tissues she'd seen earlier. Several men around her laughed.

"He means lick it up bitch."

"Or one of your daughters will." They chorused.

There was more amusement. She grimaced and lowered her head.

The second man chose to bypass the licking. Instead, he pushed her mouth directly onto his penis the moment he was about to orgasm, and she had no choice but to gulp and swallow the bitterness all down. It made her retch but she managed it.

Her right arm and wrist were exhausted. The third man ended by kneeling up on his lounger and making her squat down below, so he could masturbate himself onto her bare breasts.

"Here's some sun lotion!"

Several men rubbed the creamy necklace into her tender breasts.

The fourth made her lie with her head pillowed on his stomach, sucking his erection while she masturbated him. Her aching arm was agony but he insisted she carry on for what seemed like fifteen minutes.

"Okay. Kneel down there and look up at me."

She knelt by the side of the lounger and watched his fist jerking.

"Open your mouth."

She parted her lips wide and felt a hot spurt landing on her forehead. A second splattered her cheek. He adjusted his angle so that the next two coated her tongue. He was groaning. The audience was cackling. He seemed to have an inexhaustible supply.

"Phew." He said, at last. "Don't wipe any of that. Let it dry on your face."

"And go fetch me a black coffee." Somebody else ordered.

When she returned, she asked them politely. Her bladder ached.

"Please. I ... I need to use the bathroom."

They hooted.

"The lady needs a bathroom la-di-da."

"Piss or shit, Ma'am?" another asked, mockingly stretching out the word Ma'am as if he were a fancy hotel concierge.

She gulped. "Er ... pee."

Somebody handed her an empty water jug.

"Use this."

She looked at them and glanced around. Their eyes were hard, jaws set, lips curled. She saw no mercy in them.

"Do it now." One said. "Or shall we fetch your son to watch you?"

With a silent sob, she placed the jug on the tiles at her feet. Then she slowly tugged the tight bikini down her legs until she could step out of it.

"Take off the apron too."

She undid the knot behind her and let the apron fall. She was now totally naked and exposed. Fourteen strange men were all staring at her.

The one who seemed to be their leader they referred to as Gator.

He picked up a bamboo stick as she slowly squatted over the empty jug.

"Open wide, lady. Knees apart."

He pushed each of her legs with the stick, running it teasingly up her thighs. He was one of the ugliest men she'd ever seen, with an entire ear missing and a livid purple scar distorting one side of his face. He was missing several teeth and those that remained were tobacco-stained.

"Don't be shy. Heck, most of us have said hi to your cunt already."

She guessed this moment had been planned all along to destroy the last vestiges of her dignity. She would rather have died.

But she would survive for Rachel, Ryan and Lorna.

And John.

They were worth more to her than any amount of cruelty or humiliation these bastards could inflict on her.

Two of the men were filming her with their phones. The other obnoxious faces were fanned out in front of her, studying between her legs, gazing between her naked thighs, waiting, occasionally exchanging smirks with each other. Each of them had already invaded her body.

Now they were invading her soul.

The edge of the bamboo poked up between her humid labia, splaying her open. She was still unwashed from their rape of her the day before. The foul scent of stale sex and body odour assaulted her nostrils in the afternoon sun.

"Please." she mouthed silently, a hiccup of air escaping her lips.

The man called Gator grinned at her with the half of his mouth that still worked.

"Okay. But make sure you get most of it in the jug, or else."

She paused. She'd been desperate but, when it came to the actual moment, something within her wouldn't allow her to do it. Her bladder ached and yet ...

How on earth was she going to do something so undignified?

She couldn't bear to look at the grinning, spellbound faces of the sweating men as they enjoyed her total dishonour. She hunkered lower over the jug, shut her eyes and let out an uncontrolled sob.

And then she heard the hiss of her own urine.

What had she done to deserve this?

*** *** ***

Day Five

"John."

The agent in overall charge of the case was Walt Furness, a grizzled veteran of thirty years, although he'd never known a situation remotely like this. Five days gone and not a single meaningful clue.

"We dusted the envelope and contents. Nothing. No prints except yours, John, no traces, zip. We've sent the writing off to Quantico for analysis. But what it does do in the meantime is help us with a pointer as to who and what we're dealing with."

John nodded, rubbing his chin. That much he'd worked out for himself.

"John, I've got to ask. Do you have any enemies?"

He would have laughed in other circumstances. Even now he allowed himself a wry smile.

"A few, Walt. You don't exactly reach my position without inflicting some casualties along the way. I'm not exactly the most popular kid on the block."

"So, you know what I'm saying. Any ideas?"

He shrugged. "Somebody who would do this? You're kidding right? I can be a shit, Walt, but ..." he threw up his hands, "... enough to cause this?"

"Nevertheless, would you make a list of all the names you can think of who might dislike you? Anybody, with or without reason. We'll handle them with care."

John stared across at him, then nodded.

"Sure. But isn't this just about ransom money? Or some financial scam? We're just the innocent targets."

Walt eyed him back, stroking his bristled jaw.

"Maybe. Maybe not."

*** *** ***

17.12 hrs

"Caught in the crossfire."

Gene Collins III hung helpless in the manacles, his mouth dribbling, doing his best to stay conscious and to comprehend what the female behind the mask was saying to him. Caught in the crossfire? What the fuck? She said he'd been caught up in something beyond his control.

"What?" he mumbled again.

Her gloved hands eased down his underpants and she used scissors to snip them off him, leaving him stark naked. Please, no.

"Yes, you've been caught in the crossfire, I'm afraid." She repeated, her tone of voice sounding to him as if she was much less concerned than her words might have suggested.

"So, let's have a look-see, shall we?"

Her voice sounded older, like a woman his mom's age. Her fingers cupped his balls and then smoothed out his shrivelled, petrified length. He felt like some meagre cut of meat she was considering at the deli for her family dinner.

"Not bad for a little one." He could detect the amusement in her voice.

"Please d ... don't."

She moved her finger to his lips. It smelt of latex. Like a condom.

"Ssshhh." she cooed. "I won't castrate you. Not yet. Not if you're good. I've got a nice job for this thingy anyway."

He gulped. Job?

"Yes. You should have been fucking your lovely bride right now, shouldn't you? Using this cocktail sausage to give your lovely Lorna a damned good seeing to, right? Right?"

He nodded slowly. His mouth was dry as desert sand.

"Well, I'm afraid that you can't fuck the Cumber kid you wanted to. You see, your fiancé is now ... er ... engaged with someone else."

He groaned inwardly, fearing the implication of her play on words.

"Yes." She cupped his balls gently, as if she was trying to excite him. She teased a fingertip up the underside of his shaft. "Do you like that?"

He shook his head. But her hands kept playing with him anyway.

"It excites you, doesn't it, Gene? Being tied up like this. Your browsing history makes interesting reading."

He frowned. How?

He heard an amused snort behind the mask.

"Oh, I know you deleted those sites. But remember when daddy brought home that shiny new laptop and the butler chucked your old PC out?"

He groaned, still confused. His groin was slowly responding.

"It was all there, Gene. Tucked away. Every site, every image, every document. A computer history is like a window into somebody's mind."

"Please ..." He was hard enough for her to stroke him now.

"Lorna doesn't know, does she? Your nasty fantasies."

He screwed up his face, blushing, unable to find words.

"Don't worry. It can be our little secret."

"Wha ... what have you done to her?"

"Oh, don't worry your little head about Lorna. She's fine."

She was pumping his shaft up and down skilfully. He was rock hard in spite of everything. Her fingers knew exactly where to squeeze.

"But you can fuck the other Cumber kid." She continued. "I'd like that. And I'm sure you'll enjoy it too."

He gasped and frowned, then tried to shake his head to clear it. Instead he banged his ear against the hard cell wall.

Fuck Rachel? I mean, but why?

Inside the eyeholes of the lizard mask, he detected two pupils shining. She took her hand away and abandoned his erection like an empty flagpole.

"No." the woman's voice said, with a hoot of laughter. "Oh no. You've got the wrong idea. Not Rachel, you silly boy! We wouldn't want that. No, it's Ryan we'd like you to give a good seeing to."

*** *** ***

17.30 hrs

Susan pouted her lips and squinted into the mirror.

They had only given her fifteen minutes to shower, eat and refresh herself. It felt so good to have washed at last, even though a man supervised her throughout. The warm water stung her pink breasts and buttocks but she soaped every crevice and inch of her scummy body and scrubbed her hair.

She dried herself and was then given another bowl of the congealed gruel to eat, but with a wooden spoon this time, rather than on the floor like a dog. She forced it down knowing she was weak with hunger. The man checked her bowl to ensure she had scraped the sides clean.

He gave her a comb, makeup and lipstick. The eye shadow was a dreadful blue like a prostitute would wear and the mascara was thick and cheap. The lipstick was bright scarlet. Finally he gave her a set of purple satin underwear. The bra had only quarter-cups so her breasts were displayed and the panties were frilly. She shivered as she pulled them up. It was quite obvious from the stains inside that the tacky underwear had been used before without being washed.

"Okay, let's go make you a star." The man said, propelling her out into the sunshine.

By the pool, she saw that several cameras on tripods, boom microphones and silver foil lights had been set up. There were computers and even some director's chairs.

The men wolf whistled as they saw her outfit and makeup.

"Ready, guys." She heard somebody shout. "Let's roll."

*** *** ***

18.14 hrs

A pair of Chameleons sat together in the shade and watched the screen. It would have been nice to have the final member of their trio there too, all enjoying the moment together, but he was rather busy over in the States just now.

Still, as Meatloaf sang so powerfully, and so appropriately, three decades earlier, Two out of Three ain't Bad.

'I poured it on and I poured it out.'

Two chilled glasses of lager rested on the table, wonderfully refreshing in the heat of the North African evening.

They chinked glasses together and supped their ice cold beer.

'But you've been cold to me so long

I'm crying icicles instead of tears.'

Best Enjoyed Cold.

There is something wonderfully erotic about an attractive white woman's scarlet mouth sliding up and down the full length of an impressive black erection. Her bright lipstick was still shiny and without smudges yet. Every ridge and vein of his thick shaft was visible as she slid back her stretched lips.

On the main widescreen - a huge plasma monitor - Susan Cumber was being slowly spit roasted in the golden glow of late afternoon sun. Gecko, a heavily tattooed warrior of uncertain parentage and nationality, but now carrying a Russian passport, was crouched behind her as she knelt on the lounger. His muscled torso glistened with oil as he sensuously eased himself in and out of her slurping matriarchal cunt.

Meanwhile, Cobra was lying on the sunbed, his massive black belly shimmering with sweat, his fat fingers possessively entwined in Susan's damp tresses, guiding her pursed lips up to his swollen helmet, then all the way back down his shaft as far as she could manage without gagging. Her pendulous tits hung down as she worked, nipples brushing Cobra's inner thighs. Her discarded purple lingerie lay crumpled on the floor.

Give the dame her due, an onlooker really might have thought she was enjoying it. Her eyes were closed in apparent ecstasy, revealing her sluttish blue eye shadow. The expensive sound system picked up every meaty slap of flesh on flesh, each moan, every whimper, the continuous sloshy glugs from her cunt and mouth as she tackled her first ever threesome.

Gecko and Cobra played their parts convincingly too, with the usual male porn star noises and 'oh yes babe', 'mmm ... you love it don't you', 'oooh, you're so tight round my dick' and other choice XXX movie clichés. They had been cast after careful deliberation. Cobra, in particular, was perfect for his role.

The microphones taped. The cameras rolled, focussed close up, so as to catch her face in glorious detail but only recording her two faceless lovers from their necks to their knees. In the smaller screens to the side, other lenses captured a close up from below and also a long shot of the entire scene.

For Susan Cumber, it was sure going to be a hard day's night. She had a ticket to ride.

The Chameleons exchanged amused glances as Gecko uttered a prolonged, orgasmic groan and unleashed his first orgasm of the evening.

They watched him pull out and stagger away, high-fiving Komodo, a tall slim Hindi.

Within moments, Night Snake had shucked his shorts and taken Gecko's place. He was the youngest of the Reptiles but he had no qualms about sinking his erection into the sodden cunt of a woman 15 years his senior.

The Chameleons knew each one of the mercenaries' true names and backgrounds. Most were longstanding members of Squad 105. For example, Night Snake was really Nikolaos, a swarthy Greek, although he answered to Nicklas, Nicholas and Nico in various countries.

But Komodo was a new member of the team. His real Hindi name was Kovida and he had been recruited for a specific purpose.

Night Snake smacked his hand harshly across Susan's rump and uttered words of encouragement in his native Greek.

Yep, everything was going exactly to plan.

She was starting to learn the Rule of Three.

END OF CHAPTER TWO

Chapter Three coming soon: The Rule of Three