Katalina's moans filled the van as Jamal's cock speared her aching cunt. The man's fucking seemed to know no limits. He had been going at her for what seemed an hour straight, and the van now proceeded to bump over another pothole.
Peyton and Avril moaned as the dildos which had been rammed up their sore pussies moved with the impact as the van lurched. Their wrists were chained above their heads and bracelets held their ankles in place to ringlets in the floor. They could only wiggle on these two cruel, artificial cocks which always stayed hard.
The dark blonde's face was streaked with Vick's cum. It glistened on the side of Peyton's cheek and a few glops had settled on her well-endowed breasts.
"Big sis looks so pretty, doesn't she?" Vick grinned. He was driving now, with Traze in the back with Jamal. Traze walked over beside Katalina, whose moans were occasionally broken up by a desperate plea.
"Please, Masters! Don't sell me. I'll be a good slave, I swear. Use me as long as you want and then let me go!" The gorgeous Latina's face was contorted with such desperation, and it made Traze's cock twitch with lust. He leaned over, whispering in the girl's ear as Jamal continued to fuck her.
"I wouldn't worry, slut. I think the Arabs are hard on their sex slaves. I'm not sure you have what it takes to last," he said with a hiss. He stood back as Jamal growled his release. The black man thrust himself balls-deep, his back arching as his eyes squeezed shut and his jism spurted toward Katalina's welcoming womb.
"AAAHHH. Mmmm...you all messy again, bitch. That didn't take long, did it?" Jamal said as he stepped back to admire his achievement. The sexy Latina sagged in her bonds, forced to stand as cum dripped down the insides of her thighs. She closed her eyes, her head hanging down with shame or surrender, Traze wasn't sure which.
"Enough, let's make a short pit stop. Piss break and food break. Then we're back on the road," Traze ordered.
Mike Malone's ears perked up. He stayed alert, wondering if his opportunity would soon come. He eyed the glove compartment where he knew one of the guns was being kept. Sandra Malone had closed her eyes beside her husband and tried to sleep. Anything was better than staying awake to listen to the horrible sounds of her daughters being tormented as the van slammed into one pothole after the next.
Mike risked a glance at his wife, gauging to see if he could get her to help in whatever crazy scheme he might have to launch at a moment's notice. She didn't stir.
One by one each of the captives was taken out of their restraints and led outside the van to take care of nature and eat a snack. They had pulled off onto a country road and driven a good distance from the highway. The area was secluded - nothing but the waving grass of field after field and an endless stretch of pavement. Two of the men stood as lookouts while the other two helped the captives do their needed business.
It took some time, but eventually everyone had been allowed the bare necessities and put back in their appointed places inside the van. Try as he had, Mike hadn't found a weakness to exploit. He had, however, noted that there was also a gun in the side pocket compartment of the driver's side door. If he could somehow reach in and grab that when their captors were otherwise distracted...
The possibility gave him hope.
The van rumbled back onto the road, but not until Mick and Jamal had switched places. As Vick put the black van on the road once again, Jamal followed in the white van at a distance.
"A few more days straight of this driving, my brothers, and we will have quite the pay day," Traze said, slapping Mick on the back.
Mick grunted, other things on his mind. He was already stripping, giving Avril a smoldering gaze as his eyes went up and down her leans hips and firm, well-rounded breasts. They weren't large breasts, but Mick wasn't all about size. Shape was more important to him, and the more he looked at her sexy melons and the cute nipples which taunted him like cherries on top of a sundae, the more he wanted to play with them.
He came over to Avril, whose fearful expression told it all. 'Oh god, what now?' she thought. She looked down at his prodigious cock. It was hard and ready for her...wanting her like nothing else. She tried to remember how long it had been since they'd kidnapped her. Avril tried to remember who had fucked her so far. All four of the brutal men seemed one and the same to her. A tear formed in her left eye as Mick gently swiped it away.
"SSHHH. No need for that. I'm going to give you a proposition, girl. You get to have a reprieve from the giant dildo if you let me fuck you nice and gentle with a real cock. Then I'll let you snuggle up with me in the back here, if you promise to behave, and your pussy can get a nice, long break. Now how's that sound?"
As awful as getting fucked again seemed to Avril, the idea of a respite from this constant, aching penetration was more than welcome. She nodded her head vigorously. "Yes Master. Please let me off of this thing." She turned crimson, wondering what her parents were thinking as Mick undid her ankle restraints, lifted her off of the dildo, and sat down on the floor of the van, his legs wide and his cock straight up like a godlike phallus.
"Hop on, white bitch. Let's get your warm, wet pussy grinding on my cock." With a reluctant sigh Avril positioned her aching pussy over the man's bulbous cock-head, then sank down inch by inch until he filled her completely. She leaned forward, kissing him tenderly...sensing that this was what he wanted. The big, strong hands of her captor lightly trailed up her spine, surprisingly gentle as they cupped and massaged her slim shoulders.
"Mmm," Mick groaned. His mouth widened, his tongue working deeper into the sexy girl's mouth. "You taste good, slut. Now THIS kind of cooperation I could get used to...Keep this up, maybe we don't sell you to the Arabs after all," he said. Traze's expression darkened at the idea of his fellow crew member making promises he couldn't keep, but Traze let it go.
Soon Avril's 19-year-old pussy was establishing a gentle rhythm, grinding on top of a cock which was feeling every exquisite inch of her sheath. The rugged black man was burly, his chest even more muscular than the others. He had one of those bodies that could almost have been plastered on a muscle fitness magazine, only his wasn't so grotesquely proportioned. Avril wondered how much the man could lift. Compared to him clearly her slender body was like a willow twig compared to the trunk of a Redwood tree.
