Broddock-Black 05 - Force of Nature (19 page)

“How soon?” A battle no doubt meant Flynn and her father with all the preparations she’d seen at Sun River Ranch.

“No one’s sayin’. But they’re armed full up when they come and go. Here we are, ma’am. The billiard room. I’m right sorry.”

“Should you have the opportunity to get a message out, see that Flynn Ito knows where I am.”

“Oh Lord! Him too!”

Jo almost smiled and if the circumstances hadn’t been so dire she would have. Instead, she nodded, then twitched her foot so she could feel the comfort of the razor in her boot, took a deep breath and said, “Open the door.”

Her skin turned clammy as she walked in and saw the three men lounging on the billiard chairs drawn up in a half circle at one end of the table. Each had a whiskey bottle in his hand and a coil of rope lay on the green baize table top.

Feeling her stomach tighten at the sight of the rope, she fought down an urge to scream or run. Neither would be useful. She wouldn’t escape no matter how fast she ran and her cries would only give them satisfaction. But she stopped just inside the door. She wasn’t willing to make this easy for them.

For a fleeting moment she wondered what would happen if she were to attack them with the razor. With the element of surprise, surely she could do some damage. But what chance did she have of overcoming three men? And what price would she pay for her assault? Perhaps with Flynn and her father near, delay was her best weapon. That and the courage to endure.

“Come here, bitch.” Snapping his fingers, Hugh pointed to a spot on the carpet directly in front of his chair.

She moved forward slowly, her hands in fists at her sides, her spine stiff, her expression an impassivity she didn’t feel.

“There,” Hugh growled, as she approached, indicating a small stool she’d not seen from the door. “Sit.”

She did, although it was unnerving to obey, to submit to men she normally wouldn’t have even glanced at. And now she had to look up at them as though they were sovereigns and she their docile vassal.

“Unbutton your gown.”

“I can’t. The buttons are in back.”

“Do it or I’ll rip the dress from you,” Hugh ordered, curtly.

She had unbuttoned it for her bath; she was capable of the function, however awkward, and not wishing to feel his repulsive touch, she acquiesced. Slowly, taking her time, she undid each button until the gown hung loose on her shoulders.

“Now take it off—like you do for Flynn. Did he fuck you often during your stay at his ranch? I hear he’s very nice to the ladies—they come and go at all hours of the day or night. You didn’t know that? She seems surprised.” Hugh murmured, glancing at his friends. “Do you suppose he told her she was the first?” he added with a nasty smile.

“First, last, who cares,” Langley grumbled. “She’s not moving fast enough and my cock is so hard it’s aching. Everything off, quickly now, bitch. Stand up ... the chemise and drawers, too. I want to see what Flynn’s been fucking.”

Understanding any further delay was impossible, Jo literally gritted her teeth and yielded, coming to her feet, sliding off her gown, her chemise and drawers, debating a moment before slipping off her boots as well. But she set her boots nearby, just in case.

“Sit,” Hugh barked, snapping his pudgy fingers.

She complied, her heart beating in her ears, trying not to show her fear. It was agony to be naked before these men, but more frightening was the look in the fat man’s eyes. Brutish and frenzied as though her nakedness fueled some perversity in his brain.

“I think the bitch needs a drink to loosen her up,” Hugh murmured, stepping down from the high viewing chairs holding his bottle in his hand. “I don’t like tight cunt. Here, bitch, open your mouth.”

For a brief moment she debated her options, but he was towering over her, the bottle pressed to her lips and before she could make a decision, he grabbed her hair, jerked her head back and as her mouth opened in shock, he poured whiskey down her throat. Sputtering and coughing, she was forced to swallow the vile liquor or choke on it, the steady stream of whiskey filling her mouth, running down her chin and throat, coursing over her breasts and stomach and legs.

In those first terrifying moments, she silently swore vengeance, wanting these men to pay dearly for what they were doing to her, an incoherent rage filling her brain. But in the next choking breath she understood that her survival depended on compromise or perhaps capitulation—for only a few hours, she reflected hopefully. And with that thought in mind, she swallowed again.

“She’s looking good enough to lick now, Hughie,” Langley crowed. “Look at all that fine whiskey running into her crotch . . . and over those big tits. Make her stand up. I want to see that cunt up close.”

“Up, bitch,” Hugh ordered, jerking on her hair, forcing her to rise. “Didn’t you hear Langley? He wants to see your cunt up close.” He kicked her feet apart so her thighs were spread wide, pulled her arms behind her back with a vicious twist and held her wrists captive.

“I like that pose, Hughie, with those tits jutting out like that.” Picking up a gold-handled letter opener from a nearby table, he balanced it for a moment on his palm as he moved toward them. “Such great big tits,” he murmured, coming to rest before Jo, running the chased gold hilt around one of her breasts, lifting the weight of her breast slightly with the flat of the handle, as though gauging its size.

Jo trembled, the blade nearly touching her breast, the man’s intentions unclear.

“Don’t worry, my sweet. I wouldn’t hurt such a succulent body. We have better uses for you,” Langley drawled. Leaning forward slightly, he slid the hilt down her stomach, slipped it between her spread legs, traced her cleft with one light stroke and then without warning, rammed the metal hilt guard deep into her vagina.

She gasped, frozen in fear, the opener blade only a hair’s breadth from her pubis, the filigreed guard her only protection.

“That’s a smart little bitch.” Langley surveyed her with a faint smile. “That blade could do damage.”

Terrified, she stood motionless, scarcely daring to breathe.

“There’s no need for me to hold her now,” Hugh said with a grin, releasing his grip. “Looks like I have time for another drink.” Walking to the table, he picked up a whiskey bottle and put it to his mouth.

“That’s what I call a nice showy piece of ass,” Langley murmured, taking a step back to survey her. “She’d fetch a prime price in the slave markets of Marrakech, now, wouldn’t she? Nice, big tits”—he slapped them lightly, set them quivering, but she stifled her startled response, afraid to move. “And such a high, flaunting mound, just made to lure cock,” he added, lightly, stroking her pubic hair for a moment before he slid his fingers downward to trace the verge of her labia encircling the hilt. “Ah, she’s getting wet, just like a well-behaved submissive little slave should.” He held up his glistening fingers. “She’s going to be a tantalizing little sultana for our entertainment, gentlemen. I’m guessing, she’ll be able to last for hours.”

His words sent a chill through her, but any utterance, any agitation could be dangerous with the blade so near.

Sliding his wet fingers up her stomach, Langley ran his palms over her hips. “Fine, strong hips . . . just made for fucking,” he whispered. “You like to fuck, don’t you? All Flynn’s women like to fuck.” Stepping back, he slowly circled her, pinching her buttocks. “And a beautiful ass, smooth and round, perfect for taking the strap.” Walking around to face her again, he took her nipples between his fingers and rolled them gently. “You’ll like the strap, my sweet. Here, on these plump titties”—he pinched the crests so hard she almost cried out—“and between your legs on your wet little cunt and on your silky bottom when you don’t please us quickly enough. You must please us . . . you know that, don’t you?” His grip on her nipples tightened. “Answer me.”

Bile rose in her throat, but she had no choice. She nodded. “Say yes; I want to hear you.” And he compressed the soft tissue so cruelly, she choked out the word. “I knew you could talk,” he said with a wicked grin. “You just need a little encouragement—like this.” He stretched the tips painfully. “Is that making you hot? Tell me.”

She shut her eyes and gave him the required answer.

“She’s going to be such fun,” Hugh exclaimed with glee. “She likes to resist. It makes everything so much more interesting, doesn’t it?” The exhilaration in his voice was alarming and for a shaky, tremulous moment, Jo wasn’t sure she had the necessary courage to endure.

“She’s going to be a delicious little charmer,” Langley agreed. “Disobedient enough to require frequent spankings and chastisement and a bit of disciplining like this. See how long I can make these enormous nipples,” he said, softly pulling on them until she moaned in pain. “Come, Nigel, come closer. You can’t see from so far away. Look, I’ll do it again . .. and I can lift them. Is that high enough?” he playfully inquired, hoisting her heavy breasts upward by her nipples until she cried out.

“I’ll watch from here,” Nigel answered, his gaze on Jo’s quivering, shuddering breasts as Langley released them.

“Maybe he’ll get closer later,” Hugh jibed. “When his cock is stiff enough to make him forget Hazard Black. We’ll tie her up for you, Nigel, then she won’t hurt you. Bring her here, Langley,” he ordered, setting his whiskey bottle down, moving to the billiard table. “And careful taking that handle out. We’re going to need that cunt in good condition.”

It wasn’t often Hugh had an opportunity to exercise his depravities free of scandal. The brothels frowned on rough play; they didn’t like their merchandise damaged. But here in the wilds, surrounded by his hired guns, he was exempt from social censure.

“We’ll teach you a little obedience now,” Hugh cheerfully said at Jo’s approach, her hands held firmly behind her by Langley. Picking up the coil of rope, Hugh slid the rough hemp back and forth, over and around her breasts, the coarse hemp leaving raw scratches on her fragile skin. Every time she cringed or flinched, he smiled. “Bitches need to be disciplined, made to know who’s in charge,” he whispered with an evil smile.

The fat Englishman’s nasty smile seemed to hover for an instant like a fiendish apparition before her eyes, the image adrift and unstable. Blinking, she tried to clear her vision.

But perhaps she should have been grateful for the liquor. A few moments later as she was deposited none too gently on the billiard table, the shock to her senses was dulled. And when her wrists and ankles were roughly tied, her pain was lessened by the alcohol coursing through her blood.

Although anesthetized by whiskey, she groaned just enough to excite Hugh or he’d tied the knots tightly enough to elicit that utterance from her. But not satisfied, his cruelty requiring added gratification, he exerted extra traction on the ropes tying Jo to the table, stretching her arms and legs wider. “There,” he said with a smile as she whimpered and sobbed in pain. “Perfect.”

Brutally bound and tethered, she existed in drifting consciousness, aware at times of conversations and sights and pain, at other times inert and torpid. Perhaps her brain wasn’t functioning properly with all the liquor, she understood in those moments of lucidity, or perhaps her inability to concentrate had to do with her drowsiness . .. she mused, drifting off a second later.

However, at one point, she was roused by an explosive shout that she heard very clearly indeed. “You’re a bloody coward, Nigel!” Hugh raged. “Here, I’m offering you goddamned first chance with the cunt and you’re refusing! I don’t want to hear you whine or complain later, dammit!” Nigel was the one who had questioned her father’s presence, wasn’t he—that was it—and now he was declining to participate. Although what he was going to participate in escaped her, she hazily thought, shutting her eyes again, her mind floating away, the name Nigel strumming in her ears.

“Then, she’s all yours, Hughie,” Langley generously conceded. “She was your brilliant idea anyway.”

Hugh squinted down the table. “Don’t tell me the bitch passed out.” Leaning forward, he picked up a billiard cue and turned it so the leather-bound grip was directed at Jo’s exposed vulva.

“Gentlemen, on our stage tonight we have a gratifying exhibition of hot, dripping wet cunt, impaled with a good eight inches or more of a stiff hard billiard cue. And as you can see, gentlemen, this bitch’s copious love juices are sufficient to service a fucking army.”

“And we’re the current army,” Hugh added with a chuckle. “Not that she’s completely been put through her paces, my man. She hasn’t taken the billiard balls yet. We have to stretch that cunt a little more for the main event.” Lining up two balls, he reached out, jerked the sodden billiard cue from her vagina and swung it toward Nigel. “Want a sniff at least, ye of faint heart?”

“Thank you, no.” Always uncomfortable with Hugh’s brutality to women, Nigel kept his distance as he often had in the past. He and Hugh didn’t agree on the pleasures of sex.

Hugh shrugged and flipped the cue around. “Your loss, Nigel. Here goes, ball one.” Lining up the cue tip and the ivory ball, Hugh shot the ball straight at Jo’s glistening vulva. As the ball struck her damp flesh, it stuck with a soft splat. “That ball needs a little help there, Langley,” Hugh brusquely noted. “Shove the goddamned thing in.”

“My pleasure,” Langley drawled, stretching across Jo’s thigh, gently parting her drenched labia and easing the ball in. “That’s a damned tight fit, Hughie. An absolute beauty of a fit. Let’s just leave it there for a minute while we have another drink and admire how willingly her cunt accepts even something that large.”