"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!"
