Convict's Captive Book 4: Welcome to Mexico Page 6

  Carly didn’t hesitate. The upper sheet was turned down to the foot of the bed. She crept up onto the mattress, centered herself and rolled to her back. She spread her legs wide, like he said, her knees slightly raised. She kept her hands in puppy dog position.

  “Buena, putita,” Lorenzo slurred. The booze was getting to him again. He took another long swig of the bottle, emptying it. Then he tossed it on the floor. He got up on the bed and maneuvered his tattooed, heavy bulk next to her. He grabbed her hands and, pulling down a chain from the headboard, locked her wrists together. Then he pulled the chain back until her hands were up over her head and locked the chain in place.

  When he was done, he lay on his side next to her, towering over her, on her left, and ran his left hand down over her breasts and belly. “Mmmmmmmmmm, what a good little doggie,” he said. “So soft and tender. Your stripes suit you well. I’ll tell Vincenzo to make sure you always have some nice stripes on you.”

  He leaned over and took a nipple into his mouth. Carly cringed, but the surprisingly soft suction that he gave her quickly sent an unwanted twinge through her. He moved to the other breast, the one farthest from him, and took her right one in his right hand and massaged it, pressing it just hard enough between his fingers to release a wave of warmth through her.

  His other hand, his left, descended her belly and found her defenseless mons. He dribbled his heavy, thick fingers across it, making her twinge. Her hands twisted in their confines. Her lips were pursed tightly together. The man’s body was throwing off an insistent heat. He smelled of tequila and sweat and cruelty. But his touch was so light, his fingers like a butterfly’s wings across her hairless labia.

  His tongue and lips were teasing her teat, his hand mashed her other breast, his other hand was tormenting her slit. Carly closed her eyes and tried to fight off the sensations. “Please stop! Please stop!” her mind called out. The man groaned with seeming pleasure. A thick finger slid along her lower divide, nudging against her soft, tender button at the top. He rose from her chest and brought his mouth to hers. His lips pried at her lips, his tongue delved between them. It started to slide in and she had no will to resist it, terrified at what any resistance on her part might produce.

  The thick tongue scoured her mouth. It was hot and strong and large. It twirled and twisted and lapped at her mouth’s interior. It found her tongue and lapped against it, sliding up and down its length. Down below, the finger had slipped between her love lips, sliding up and down and up and down, delving deeper and deeper into her interior.

  She could feel Lorenzo’s stiff prick jammed up against her thigh. Her breath was becoming deep. The finger pressed itself into her entrance, slipping easily inside and was quickly joined by a second and then a third. The fingers slid along her chamber, fucking her and she couldn’t prevent the moan of passion emerging from deep inside. This made Lorenzo raise his head.

  “You’re a chica caliente,” he told her, amused and satisfied. “I’m going to love fucking you.” He crossed over her leg, coming between them. He ran his hands up and down her distended, soft, marred thighs. “Let’s see what your pussy tastes like,” he said.

  He bent his head, wrapping his arms around her thighs, and pressed it down to her loins. She felt his tongue run between her distended labia and a wave of heat passed through her. “I’m a whore! I’m a whore! I’m a whore!” she thought to herself miserably. She cursed herself for her wantonness. Then his lips seized her now stiffened love bud and she inhaled deeply, arching her back, spreading her legs wider. “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” she moaned.

  He suckled and tickled her stiff button, running his tongue around and over it. He thrust his tongue inside her, tantalizing the roof of her cavern, pressing deeply inside her. He ran it around the edges and up and over her inner and outer labia.

  She felt like he was consuming her, that in a moment she would be sucked inside of his body whole. She moaned and sighed. She shifted her hips. She jammed her eyes shut, bit her lip. Her hands closed into fists. “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” her mind called out. She knew she was going to disgrace herself before the man and she hated herself for it. She just wanted the tongue and the lips to stop, even if just for a second or two. But the more she experienced her utter lack of power to control his use of her, the more she felt herself a slave to her body’s wantonness, the more she realized that her life now would be one of continuous, callous use, day after day, week after week, her legs and lips spread for all comers, the deeper and deeper her passion ran.

  It was that demon. Lorenzo had awakened it. It had control of her now, had shunted aside her self-respect, her self-integrity, her morals, her sense of self and was reveling in the hot tongue and lips as they excited her more and more.

  “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh!” she moaned and “Ohhhhhhhhhhh!” again. She wanted to beg him to stop, but knew that every word spoken out of turn would bring a concomitant punishment. The electrical sensations spread out from her loins, up her belly and down her legs. Her pussy was like a vortex, wild and spinning. Her crisis was coming closer and closer. “No! No! No! No! No!” she thought. She tried to push it back, but it was remorseless. His tongue began to flick rapidly over her clit, moving, seemingly, at a hundred miles per hour. Her thighs were crushed within the man’s grasp. She pushed her heels hard against the bed. She arched her back. She gritted her teeth. “No! Please, no!” she thought desperately.

  And then it came. Her pussy exploded into a series of rabid contractions. The pleasure shot through her like a bolt of electricity. “Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!” she called out. The tongue went on and on, and when her first series of paroxysms began to fade, a second set began to rise behind them.

  Lorenzo raised his head. His hand took control of her cunt, rubbing, tickling, teasing her clit. “Bark for me, perrita!” he ordered. “From now on when you come, I want to hear you bark like the filthy fucking little doggie you are! Bark for me! ¡Ladra, aqui! Bark now! ¡Mas fuente, que perra sucia, you dirty bitch! ¡Ladra! ¡Aqui!”

  A wave of misery passed through her even as the hand pushed her pussy inevitably towards another body shaking crest. “Yarp!” she yelled. “Yarp! Yarp!” He pressed his face back down onto her cunt and his tongue resumed its frenetic dance. A shudder went through her and her explosions commenced anew.

  “Yarp! Yarp! Yarp! Yarp!” she yelled, each enunciation piercing her like the blade of a knife, cutting away more and more of her personhood. “Yarp! Yarp! Yarp!” she yelled.

  Then he was up. He moved his body over her. She felt his prick probing at her entrance. The thought of him piercing her, passing inside her, made her belly turn sour. He slipped right in. She could feel his thick probe push aside her pussy’s walls. He lay upon her and took her mouth again. His tongue filled her. And then he began his motions.

  He began pumping furiously. Madly. Her orgasm began to build again. The rasp of the unwanted prick scouring her innards sickened her at the same time that it drove her insatiable lust. His belly was pounding against hers, his hips were pounding away at her thighs. Her legs, of their own volition wrapped themselves around his calves. “Faster! Harder! Harder! Faster!” her mind yelled. “Give it to me! Give it to me! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!”

  She felt her pussy twinge and then a rolling series of cataclysmic ebullitions began to rock it. Lorenzo must have felt it since he broke their kiss and yelled at her, “¡Ladra! ¡Ahora! ¡Ladra, sucia perra! ¡Ladra!”

  “Yarp! Yarp! Yarp!” she shouted as loud as she could. Lorenzo laughed madly, his thrusts became manic. “Here it comes, perrita! Here it comes! ¡Ladra! ¡Ladra, perrita! ¡Ladra!”

  “Yarp! Yarp! Yarp! Yarp!” she called out as her cunt’s convulsions went on and on. Lorenzo growled, deep and long. Arrrrrrrrrrgh! Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh! Arrrrrrrrrrrrgh! Arrrrrrrrrrrgh!” he groaned. His whole body tensed. His cock continued a relentless, piston-like traverse of her canal. “Arrrrgh! Arrrrgh! Arrrrgh! Arrrrgh!” he called out. “Yarp! Yarp! Yarp! Yarp!” she responded.

&n
bsp; And then, finally, he gave out one last long groan, pushed his cock hard inside her, as far as it would go, holding it there, mashing his hips against her painfully, and then he went limp, his passions spent.

  Her pussy vibrated with spent lust. The worst was over, but it continued a series of intermittent, gradually diminishing contractions that sent streams of pleasure washing along inside her. Lorenzo was laying on top her of her, his breath deep and strained. She could feel his heart pounding through his chest. A wave of misery went through her, misery and remorse for the display she had put on for him. And for the humiliations she had allowed him to impose. She was his perrita, all right. His filthy perrita. She started to cry.

  After a few moments, Lorenzo slipped his diminishing cock from her crevasse. She cringed at the thought of his spunk inside her. He got up from her and rolled over on his back.

  A few seconds later, he spoke to her. “Muy bien, perrita,” he said. “Muy bien. We’re going to have a lot of fun together. Tomorrow I’ll fuck your ass and make you squeal like a pig. I’ll do it in front of mi amigos so they can get a kick out of it. Then I’ll let them all fuck you.”

  He turned back to her and released her hands from the headboard. The leash was still attached to her collar and he yanked at it hard. “Abre, putita,” he snarled. He pulled her to the floor. “¡Manos y rodillas!” he ordered. He pulled her to the bathroom. He made her stand by him on her hands and knees while he pissed long and hard into the bowl. When he was done, he gave his cock a shake and then led her to a little basin built into the floor. He ordered her to squat over it and ordered her to “¡Mea!” She pissed obediently.

  He brought her back out into the bedroom and led her, just as she had feared, to the little cage at the foot of his bed. He made her kneel next to it while he clipped her arms behind her back and then retrieved the gag she had been wearing from the floor. He jammed it into her mouth and tightened it harshly behind her head. He left her doggie ears on.

  When he opened the cage door, he ordered her in. Tearfully, she maneuvered herself backwards until she was inside, her back bent, her neck scrunched, her knees raised, her body all pulled into itself. He slammed the door closed and locked it. “Buenas noches, perrita,” he told her.

  She watched him turn on a light by the bed and then go to the door to turn out the chandelier. A moment later, he passed her and she heard him get up on the bed. The bedside light went out, plunging the room into near darkness. The only light was the glow of the full moon outside. A few moments later she heard him begin to snore. Biting down hard on the thick rubber plug in her mouth, she began to sob.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Gerry Chavez was the sole owner of the second largest pool company in the Southwest. He had come up the hard way. He grew up in a little shack on the outskirts of Sahuarita, just south of Tucson. His mother was part Navaho and his father a mestizo illegal who spent most of his life picking vegetables and fruit and drinking away most of the meager proceeds. The ‘house’ if you could call it a house, was made from adobe bricks and covered with a layer of corrugated steel. It was one room and housed all of his family, the three other boys and four girls, plus that of his mother’s sister, two boys and three girls. The aunt had skedaddled at one point or another and the uncle was doing life at Soledad in California for the drunken murder of a prostitute.

  You worked almost as soon as you could walk. His mother took the whole clan out picking tomatoes or grapes or green beans or peaches, even cotton. They roamed as far as Bakersfield, California to Waco, Texas, looking for work, riding in the back of his grandfather’s beat up old War World II surplus deuce and a half. But they always wintered in Sahuarita to be near his mother’s people and because they were already well known at the social service agencies so that they could get food and some clothes to make it through the winter.

  Gerry, real name Gerardo, lit out on his own as soon as he could. He got a job on a ranch out near Lubbock when he was 15. The rancher’s wife took a hankering to him and she took the time to teach him to read and write. She taught him a few other things too, about how lonely and needy a 35 year old woman could be out on a ranchstead where the men were often out on the range or in town putting a bag on.

  By the time Jerry was 17, the rancher had caught on and he moved off just in time to save himself from being beaten to death with a branding iron. He drifted a bit. He did a few years in the Army starting when he was 19. Somehow, he got assigned to the Corp. of Engineers and he learned all about operating heavy machinery and organization and reading construction plans and a lot of other stuff. He left as a Spec 6.

  When he got out, he got a job digging out pools for a small operator out of Phoenix. He really hit it off with the owner, they could practically pour a whole pool together between the two of them, so that when the man retired Gerry took over the company. He made some good money and started TV advertising in 1987, small at first, but his ads soon caught on. They featured him with a wide shit-eating grin, wearing a straw cowboy hat and relaying his motto, “Nobody can fill a hole like Gerry Chavez!”

  He ran through women like they were pebbles on the beach. He finally married when he was 35. That didn’t stop him from running wild though. He was the kind of guy who just couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.

  His seven legitimate children all moved on to college and were now spread out over the country. He had divorced his wife in 2002. It had cost him $3 million but it had been worth every penny. He ran wild for a few years and then met his current wife, Darla, 32, 34 years his junior. She was working at a car dealership in Albuquerque. He was buying a brand new, shiny 2006 Porsche 911. Darla was the receptionist. He took her out to dinner and fucked her that night. She was a real whirlwind, hot as a two dollar pistol. She had some tricks that were new even to him. He married her 6 months later.

  But romance had a way of fading quickly in Gerry’s life. Darla was great to bring to parties, she had tits out to here and long, tantalizing legs, almost white blond hair and a saucy look that would entice a monsignor. But there were always new, sweet young things around running stray and Jerry could never resist rounding one up when they crossed his trail.

  He was sitting now at the bar of the Phoenix Hilton talking trash with a fine looking, miniskirted brunette, maybe 25 or so. She was all smiles and giggly at his jokes. She was wearing a halter top with nothing underneath and when Gerry stood up, he was about 6’2”, he could look right down her top and see the girl’s plush mounds.

  He was on his fourth martini. She was drinking tequila sunrises and had had three. She didn’t react when he placed his hand on her thigh, but actually moved a little closer to him, especially when he flashed his bankroll. Gerry never carried less than $3500 on him, all in hundreds.

  It was the girl who suggested they get a room. When she said it, she ran her hand over his thigh and took hold of his stiffened cock. Gerry had the girl pegged as a pro, but he didn’t give a shit. That was what money was for. He would never miss the grand he would probably blow on her, especially if she was as good as she portended. He always carried a little pill box full of Viagra with him for just these sort of occasions.

  “That’s suits me to a ‘T’, mi corazon, but I gotta make a little call first. I’ll be right back,” he said.

  When Darla got the call, she knew what it was about. She didn’t give a shit. She saw as little of Gerry as she could these days, spending most of her free time with Sal, a real estate up and comer. Sal was 39, about Darla’s age now and had a taut, muscular body. Unlike Gerry, who usually got off quickly and snoozed off, Sal could go all night. She was sitting with Sal now in the kitchenette of one of the condos that he owned off the books that even his tight assed wife didn’t know about. He was free until 11. Jerry’s call to her cell phone came in about a quarter to 8. Darla smiled at Sal as she spoke to Gerry.

  “Sure, honey,” she said, “take all the time you need. Business first, I know….. No, I’m not mad….. Yeah, I’ll probably do a little s
hopping and then go work out….. Yeah, I understand, you gotta wine and dine ‘em. If you get tanked up, just get a room or something. You don’t want to get a DUI or nothing…. Okay, see you tomorrow. Bye.”

  Sal grinned from ear to ear.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  A kind of rough looking fellow, with long black hair pulled back in a ponytail, watched Gerry and Collette, that was the name she was using tonight, get on the elevator. She gave the fellow a little look as she got on. It was all the fellow needed to know.

  He got up from his chair in the lobby and headed outside. As soon as he was away from the door, he flipped out his cell phone. He pressed a number on his speed dial and when the other end answered said, “You’re on,” and hung up.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  Later that night, about a quarter after twelve, Darla pulled her copper red Lexis up the long driveway that led to the Chavez Mansion. She had had a great night. Her pussy still felt all wet and sloshy. Sal had given her a big love bite on her neck and she knew that she would have to hide it when Gerry came home tomorrow, but he hardly noticed anything about her anymore. She had given Sal a big, slow, long blowjob and he had reciprocated with a teasing, luxurious wash of her clam.

  She pulled up to the three car garage and used her clicker to initiate the opening of bay 1. The door rolled up noisily, but little sound disturbed Darla’s reverie. They were playing one of her favorite tunes on the radio and she had it turned up way high.

  Once the door had opened fully, Darla scooted the Lexis in. She was never comfortable until the car was fully in the garage. They lived in a remote suburb of Albuquerque and the next neighbor’s house was about two hundred yards away. You never knew who could be out prowling at this time of night. Darla had been after Gerry to upgrade the security system for a long time now, but her entreaties had fallen on deaf ears. Gerry knew how to handle himself and was always carrying. He favored a Smith and Wesson .357 magnum snub nosed revolver. It only held 5 rounds, but was tight and compact and made a great big noise. Just like Gerry except for the small and compact part.