"Hey Kip, wanna help me with this bitch?"
"Help how?" Kip said, his tall cock eagerly saluting Pooja. Now Pooja wasn't as tall or slender as Swathi, and despite her beautiful face the rest of her body was still covered in traditional Hindi dress.
He came over and eyed Pooja, who sucked dutifully even while tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.
"I'm tired of just getting sucked. I want to stick my dick in this bitch," Tommy grumbled.
"But Boss said..." Kip began.
"I know what Boss said," Tommy snapped. "I know she was going to be our fluffer bitch, but I want more. Besides, he won't mind," Tommy muttered, glancing over at Danny, who had put down his camera and was kissing Swathi with the passion of a lover.
"And how does this involve me?" Kip griped. As the group's tech expert, despite having the least impressive physique he thought he deserved more respect and deference from the group, but Danny and the others seemed to marginalize him every chance they got.
"Just shut up and help me get her onto the bed when I say so. You'll get your turn soon enough. Happy?"
Tommy turned back to Pooja, who was cowering on her knees.
"NO! Please, your boss promised that if I cooperated I would only have to suck. He said--"
SMACK. The slap wasn't hard enough to do damage, just to startle the woman and make her cheek sting.
"No backtalk, cunt. You want me to be gentle or rough? How this plays out depends on you. Start stripping. Now."
Pooja felt fresh tears slide down her cheeks. Unlike Swathi, she came from a very conservative Hindi family. She never wore clothes that showed anything close to cleavage, and the few times when she wore skirts, those skirts were always long enough to touch her ankles. Pooja's conservative upbringing meant that the 29-year-old woman had only had two serious boyfriends, and neither had been up to snuff to her father's high (see: impossible) standards.
Now she was losing her virtue to this... animal. She shuddered, weeping all the while even as, with trembling hands, she slowly began to strip. Tommy urged her on, threatening to slap her again for good measure. Kip stood back and watched, his cock hardening up even more than he'd thought possible. As for Pooja, the woman finally managed to slip off her socks and undergarments to become fully nude. She knelt there, cowering, one arm awkwardly covering her breasts while her other hand covered the enticing thatch of her unshaven sex.
Unlike Swathi, whose cunt was completely shaved, Pooja's sex had a healthy bush of pubic hair enshrouding it. Although she trimmed it now and then, her pussy was so sensitive, and her conservative upbringing had taught her that it was lewd and unseemly to shave down there too enthusiastically.
Not that the soft, downy hair did her much good. Pooja had never felt so vulnerable or so ashamed.
"Please... please don't do this!" she wept, but Tommy grunted at Kip and made a gesture.
"Help me get this slut on the bed."
Kip did his part, and soon, with each of them taking one arm, they lifted her onto the mattress. Pooja tried to curl up into a ball face-down, but Tommy turned her over.
"Face up and look at me, bitch. Spread that pussy! Show me your pussy!" When she shook her head and told him to stop, that only seemed to enrage and encourage him. He slapped her until she obeyed. "Arms at your sides too. Don't hide those pretty tits," he growled. She put her hands at her sides, hating every second of it.
The two men now admired Pooja's supple melon-shaped tits, which were more rounded and compact than Swathi's but no less perky.
Pooja squeezed her eyes shut now. If she had to bare herself to these brutes, then at least she wouldn't watch. She couldn't look. She tried to find some haven deep inside her mind, some safe place to weather the mental storm given the trauma that was coming.
"Eyes open, cunt." Another slap across her cheek and Pooja's eyes snapped wide open.
"This doesn't have to be painful, bitch. You can cooperate. Who knows, you might even feel good."
Pooja's eyes squeezed out fresh tears. "Please, don't this."
Tommy grabbed her by the throat. "Does it look like I care, bitch? Are you going to play nice or am I going to play rough? You pick."
Finally, with great effort, Pooja found a way to suppress her conservative upbringing and shame just enough to do what she needed to in order to survive. Please forgive me she thought bitterly.
"Oh-okay," she whispered.
Tommy's open palm slammed across her pussy, making Pooja's legs scissor and flail as she cried out.
"AY!"
"Speak up, slut!"
"OK! Please, I'll play nice!" Pooja cried.
"Good." Tommy's gloating grin made Pooja want to puke. "Spread those legs now, cunt, because I'm about to do you a big favor."
The beautiful Indian woman did as her captor demanded. She spread her legs, feeling the air on her bare pussy, hating that sensation of being so exposed and so helpless.
Tommy climbed onto the bed and knelt down between her legs. He eyed that beautiful pussy, the thick outer labia giving way to more delicate contours within. The pearled nub of her clitoris seemed to taunt him at the apex of her gaping slit.
"Your pussy is impressive, slut. I want to taste it. This should help relax you so that you'll be ready to take cock. Now lie still and behave."
"Ok just p-please be gentle," Pooja implored.
Tommy leaned down and pressed his mouth against her soft folds. The second his tongue began to lap at her sex, Pooja looked up at the ceiling and tried to stifle the assault of sensations. The flurry of unwanted arousal snuck through her like a thief in the night. Her body began to respond almost immediately. It appalled her. It appalled Pooja the way her nipples grew hard, the way blood flowed faster through her body. She hated the way her senses grew hyper-alert, her cunt aware of every deft flick of her captor's tongue, the way he gently nibbled on her clitoris and then teased her labia, sucking and slurping with surprising patience.
The two young Indian men whom Pooja had dated had never done anything like this before. They had been awkward in the bedroom, nervous and inexperienced. Not this man. Tommy knew his way around a pussy, and he showed that knowledge now with devastating skill. His tongue stroked and battered Pooja's pussy with an evil, patient dedication to stripping his captive of her will to fight. Tommy now gently sucked on her clit, trapping it gingerly between his teeth.
"NOOO!!!! Please stop!" Pooja moaned. "I don't want this!!! AHHHH!!!!" Her hands were now clenched at her sides. She hated the way her chest now rose and fell, her heart thundering in her ribcage as her excited clitoris seemed to be doing its best to become as engorged as Tommy's cock.
"Oh, I think you want it bad, bitch," Kip interrupted. Pooja saw his leering face above her now. He reached down to palm her perfectly sculpted tits. "Mmm. You know what, I have a toy I think you might like." Kip withdrew, and the thought of what he could mean made Pooja shudder. He returned a short time later with a lit candle.
"Ever tried wax-play, bitch?"
Pooja's pussy now felt the full brunt of Tommy's stroking and caressing tongue. He sucked fervently on her joy nub. Her breathing hitched as she watched that candle hovering just above her torso.
"N-no!" she whimpered, "and I don't want to! GET IT AWAY FROM ME. STO---AAAAHHH!!!"
Kip tilted the candle, letting a glob of wax fall onto the woman's left nipple. The burning sensation smote her aching breast to the core. Sensations she didn't even know she was capable of now awakened. Pain shot through her chest even as a strange afterglow of pleasure arose when relief followed, as the wax cooled and solidified on her skin, making the aftereffects not entirely unpleasant. But Pooja's fear overrode any willingness to listen to what her own body was trying to tell her.
