!ADULTS ONLY! Tag Bonewell: House Dick!

Then she would be forced to watch as the gang of bawdy, raucous men removed their clothing and were soon as naked as she was. She found herself looking at a sea of male flesh, and erections in many different sizes and shapes. Some hard, some yet to be hard. Some already oozing sperm, making their cock heads look slimy and slick. And evil.

In her fantasy, she could never see the men's faces, only their steel-hard cocks, which were always large, thick, and very long. They were all mean and angry looking cocks, with large, ropy veins that stood out all along the shaft. And with very large, swollen cock heads that looked as if they were designed for serious fucking. Not young boy's cocks, nor even teenage boy's cocks, but men's cocks, with large, hairy balls that looked chock-full of manly sperm. Or white rum.

They would then take turns using her, by twos, by threes, by fours, and more, until she was awash in sperm, their white rum. Rum cum. Cum rum.

Cum dried on her face, her breasts, her belly, her buttocks, and glistened in her hair, while dribbling copiously down between her legs, flowing out of her pussy and ass hole. She could smell their acrid white rum cum in the air even as she masturbated in real life. It always made her giddy and feel like swooning.

And she could taste it in her mouth. In the fantasy as well as in real life. And, in her imagination, she could taste it in the back of her throat, each and every time she swallowed. Like salty onions, only more pungent.

Then, just as two especially ugly pirate men used her young body, both orally and vaginally at the same time, she would cum, in the fantasy and in real life. At the crest of her real life orgasm, she would place her pussy-soaked fingers into her mouth, and suck on them, her eyes closed, pretending it was the pirate's prick she had in her mouth, as it ejaculated his hot, salty, white rum cum sperm.

Tracy had gotten so good at performing her fantasy, she had trouble telling where fantasy ended and reality began. The two meshed, and blended so very well, as if one was water, the other sugar, one plain, one sweet, and her mind's imagination was a stirring spoon.

She could now make her fantasy orgasms take place at the same time as her real ones, causing her to believe she was multiple orgasmic.

At some point in her well spun daydream, she would be so mesmerized by it all, so rapt, so enthralled, that when she had her second orgasm, she wasn't really on her bed at all, but on the seven seas, a buxom whore cunt being forced by ugly men to do many degrading things. Her ceiling seemed filled with bright stars, in a stark black sky. Her bed seems to sway, as if being gently tossed about by the briny sea.

Then, as if to end it all in a fun way, she would pretend she could hear the Captain's large parrot squawk out, from off of his right shoulder: "She loves to fuck! She loves to suck!" Tracy would always laugh, and then, with an immense effort, she would rejoin the real world once more, feeling somewhat sorry she had to do so.

Why this humiliating and debasing fantasy appealed to her, she didn't truly know, or understand. She sensed she had some masochistic drive in her that needed to be fed, but why that was so wasn't revealed to her. All she knew, and all she cared about was, the fantasy gave her mind-numbing and body-jolting orgasms, especially that second, very vivid one.

Tracy looked at the fat man, the man named Ken. He was lying on the bed playing with his average-sized prick, stroking it gently. To her, he sure looked like a big, fat ugly pirate man.

She squinted at him now, and pictured a patch over his left eye, and a squawking parrot on his right shoulder. No, she thought, Burns was more the ship's Captain type. He was more commanding. Ken would be better as one of the swarthy crew. One of the cutthroat rapists.

was hung, with a nasty, ropy, evil looking cock, just like most of the pirate ship's evil crew.

Oh, no, she playfully mused to herself, I'm going to be forced to suck and fuck this blackguard's big monster prick! Can no one save me? Her pussy now got even hotter and wetter as the dream took hold of her.

Mr. Burns, she now fantasized, would definitely be her pirate Captain. He would tell her what she was to do to sexually please his lusty band of merciless cutthroats, whether she liked it or not.

Tracy felt her pussy twitter and her legs go weak. With sucking their cocks in her mind, she forced her dry mouth to make saliva.

She squinted her eyes at Burns, and could now clearly see the large parrot perched on his right shoulder, and his black eye patch. She imagined the parrot spoke to her, in its raucous and squawky voice.

"She loves to fuck! She loves to suck!" How delicious it was all becoming . . .

* * * * * *

TRACY'S FANTASY was running amok in suite 111. Everything said to her was now being altered, as if filtered through an old swashbuckler film.

"Take yer garmints off, yer whore wench, and be quick about it!"

"Stick yer fingers in yer cunt, yer bawdy bitch, and finger yer cunt well!"

"On your knees, yer slutty bitch, and suck me First Mate's cock and balls!"

"Now, whore of a she-devil, suck the other cock, too!"

Captain Burns brought out a large, thick dildo. He placed it on a small table, suctioning it in place, and ordered Tracy to squat on it and " . . . give me crew a good show, if yer know what's good for yer!"

The other two men helped her onto the table, and all three men watched her impale herself onto the large, rubbery member. Inch by inch, until all 10" was firmly embedded in her. She felt ridiculous doing this, this insane act in front of three naked men, and she protested, quite mightily, but, as in her fantasy, her protestations fell on deaf ears. To her masochistic delight.

"Now, slut wench," one of the pirate
crew said. "Go up and down on the
massive thing, and show us how
that cunt of yers loves swallowing it
up."

She did it until the whole thing
bored them. It didn't do anything for
her, except make her feel absolutely
foolish, but, for some odd reason,
perhaps for their benefit, she
decided to pretend to have an
orgasm.

"Ooh, I'm cumming!" She said once, rather dryly, noticing it did have an effect on the men, the filthy blackguards.

Then she was told to suck one of the men off. Following the Captain's orders, she knelt before the bed and started to suck off the fat, First Mate, just as the nice pirate crewmember crept up behind her. He made her twitch when the hot breath of his mouth found her ass hole and he ran his even hotter tongue around and into the puckering entrance.

She had never experienced having her ass licked and tongued, and the new sensations struck her as both peculiar and very nice. The fat man on the bed now grabbed her head and pushed it down, making her take more of him into her mouth. He moaned as her lips neared the mid point of his shaft.

He pushed some more, her head following along. "Ooowee!" He yelled. "She's down to the fur!" And she was. His pubic hairs were tickling her nose, his plumpish gut pressed firmly against her forehead, reminding her of a pillow.

He held her in place for a bit. "God, baby, yer sure can suck cock! Now, wench, work my dick for all yer worth." He left go of her head. She scooted her mouth up the shaft, worked the cock head, tongued it, and, without his help, deep throated him once more. "Oh, fucking oh, what a cocksucker you are woman!" Tracy heard, "Argh, fucking argh, what a fine cocksucker yer are cunt!"

Someone else said, "That she is, matey. That she is."

Captain Burns now joined the First Mate on the bed, which, to Tracy, was now a ship at sea. The nice crewman, with the mean looking pirate dick, then grabbed her hips and put his cock into her pussy, driving it fully home, making her shudder involuntarily, and impelling her forward, the fat man's cock almost choking her.

"Now," the frightful Captain bellowed, "Suck both our pricks with yer hot, cum-loving mouth, yer cocksucking trollop!" Tracy followed his orders, going from one penis to the other, then back again, her hot mouth leaving long trails of her saliva, spanning across, as a spider's web strand might, from one dick head to the other.

As she sucked on both cocks, the nice crewman repeatedly slammed into her, making loud fleshy noises, as his groin rammed into her hot buttocks. She could feel his nuts slapping against the lips of her pussy, almost hitting her anus. He was moaning, "Oooh, man, she's tight!" Tracy heard, "Argh, how tight the cunt of this lusty wench be!"

The imaginary parrot, from somewhere above her head, kept crying out, "She loves to fuck! She loves to suck!" And, as she pushed her ass back to meet the thrusts of the nice pirate man, her pussy on fire, she knew the parrot spoke the truth. She loved what the three nasty buccaneers were now doing to her, and she wanted them to really know it. She removed her mouth from the First Mate's cock and yelled out:

"Argh, you dirty, bastard pirates, you're making me cum!" And she did, her ass cheeks juddering like Jell-O, her breasts wobbling, and her legs trembling. "Argh, yes, you dirty brigand, fuck me good! Fuck me good, you rotten blackguard!"

The three men, not knowing what the fuck she was talking about, simply looked at each other, stupid grins on their faces. Tracy, feeling the nice pirate start to shoot into her, smashed her buttocks into his groin, bringing on another of her orgasms, the second one, and the one that was always bigger, and more vivd, than the first.

"Arrrrrgh!" she yelled. "Yer parrot's right, Captain Burns! I love to fuck and love to suck!" As the orgasm swept over her, she put her mouth back on one of the cocks, not caring which one it was. She sucked on it so ferociously, Burns yelped, "Easy baby!" She no longer heard him.

She worked Captain Burns' 10" long prick heartily, eagerly, in seeming total abandonment of her sanity. She seemed to have a mighty thirst that only his white rum could slake. At some point, Burns interrupted her by standing up and pulling his prick from her mouth. Her mouth closed reflexively.

"Wench," he bellowed. "Open yer mouth and stick out yer tongue! Good. Now make a cup of it." She curled the edges of her tongue up, obeying him. She looked up at him, waiting.

He proceeded masturbating, yanking on his long cock with strong, shaft-length strokes. Tracy waited, her tongue cupped, and her blue eyes looking up at him. Tracy sensed, more than saw, the other two men move in for a closer look. Then, the mighty fearsome Captain of the high seas was ready.

He placed the tip of his cock head onto the left side edge of her tongue cup, and the first spurt soon followed. It discharged with great force. Ken and Joe watched as it ricocheted off her tongue's middle and disappeared into the back recess of her mouth, leaving a small pearl of a whitish glob behind.

A second spurt, lacking the vigor of the first, also hit her tongue, dead center, and died there, forming a small puddle and adding its mass to the pearl.

Then Burns dribbled four times, copious dribbles that filled the pink cup to overflowing. Some of the cum oozed over the cup's edges and clung to her lips, the white globs defying gravity by their stickiness. Tracy was still looking at Burns, her blue eyes not even blinking, with a good tablespoon of his white rum sitting in her tongue cup.

"Now, yer cum-lovin' cunt, swallow me down! Argh!" And she did. The three men watched the cup retreat into her luscious mouth, heard her audibly swallow, and saw her open her mouth and stick the tongue back out, as if to prove to the brutish men she had swallowed every drop. As any cum-loving wench ought to do.

She heard someone say, "Whew! You gave her some load, Burnsie!" Burns, perhaps inspired by the remark, took a finger and scooped up some of the large blobs clinging to her chin. He pushed the cum laden finger into her still open mouth. Then, as a baby does with a nipple, she sucked on the rough finger, cleaning it off completely. Again, the men heard her swallow.

Then she was told to work on the other cock, the First Mate's. In a short time, it too discharged fully into her mouth, and she swallowed it in its entirety. She could fully taste the salty sea of white rum cum in the back of her throat, and all through her palate. Running her tongue over her upper teeth, she felt a sticky coating on them.

All the while, she kept hearing the truth-speaking parrot in her head. Then, to her utter amazement, she had a third orgasm, one even more intense than her second.

It had taken her fully by surprise. And the intensity was so overwhelming, it stunned her. She buried her face in the First Mate's crotch, smelling the musk of his balls, and feeling the heat of him. She put both hands on his waist, pinched him hard, and screamed into his hairy balls, "Arrgghmph mmph, argh!" It was not intelligible to the men, but they knew one thing: Tracy had just had an orgasm to be reckoned with.

She came out of her reverie somewhat when she heard Captain Burns say, very loudly, "Hey! Let's all have a little something to drink, and then fool around some more. OK?"

This was translated to Tracy's ears as: "Argh! Let's give the bitch some rum, me mateys, and then fuck her until she can't walk!"

The men then consumed two beers each, Tracy nursing on one.

When Ken said he had to piss, with Joe echoing the sentiment, Burns shocked Tracy by saying, "Me, too! But how about we all piss in her mouth!" He pointed a thumb at her. "She'll love that!"

Tracy protested this idea so much, and so adamantly, Burns grabbed her and dragged her into the bathroom. He slammed the door behind him, and read her the riot act.

In a hoarse whisper, he told her she'd swallow all their piss, or else. The "or else" beat her into submission. He led her out of the bathroom and said to the boys, sounding very much the conquering hero, and with a gleam in his eyes, "Gentlemen, she's now ready to be pissed into." He ordered her to her knees. Ken laughed. Joe chuckled, holding his crotch and shifting his legs back and forth, as if he had to piss real bad and was holding it all in.

But, First Mate Ken went first. He pushed his limp cock into her mouth, and soon unloaded a glassful of piss into her. She instinctively tried to swallow, but the deluge was just too much. It gushed out around her lips, and his cock, and cascaded onto her knees, and the carpet below.

The taste was awful to her, causing her to wince numerous times. She could smell the urine that had splashed onto her. The fat First Mate laughed. "Guess she needs some practice at piss swallowing, eh, boys?"

Forcing herself back into her fantasy, as an escape from the reality of it all, she imagined she heard Captain Burns say, "Golden rum is an acquired taste, whore cunt, but yer will get used to it soon enough. Argh!" But she didn't think she would. Not when golden rum tasted so very much like plain old piss.

Joe went next. And he really had to go, badly. So much so, he was pissing even before his cock reached her mouth. It splashed all over her nose, lips, and chin, the strong acrid smell of it grossing her out. Then his cock found her mouth, and he pissed the rest of his golden rum into her for all he was worth.

As if to minimize the smell, she found herself swallowing rapidly. This time, none of it escaped her mouth. She swallowed every pissy drop; the taste of it lingering on her tongue even after Joe had pulled out of her.

"See, mateys," someone said. "The piss-loving cunt knows how to swallow every drop of golden rum when she wants to." Then Captain Burns stepped up to the piss mouth wench. His cock was semi-hard as he placed it into her mouth. It seemed as if it couldn't decide whether it wanted to piss or get hard again.

As he started to piss, he said, to Tracy's way of hearing, "Argh! Now, you flagrant whore, show me men here just how yer can swallow every precious drop of me golden rum." He pissed another glassful of urine into her mouth. The other two men watched, mesmerized, as she swallowed, swallowed, swallowed, gurgling and sputtering, her cheeks puffing way out, and taking it all without spilling any along the way.

Burns withdrew his penis, which was now fullly flaccid, and lifted her chin up to him. "Now, yer piss mouth cunt, tell me crew how yer loved drinking all their golden rum piss. Now! Tell them!"

"I-I-I loved drinking all your golden rum piss." She hadn't, but what else could she say? If the men were a little confused by her adding the words "golden rum" to the statement, none of them showed it.

Someone said, in a pirate's voice, "Now, cunt whore, let's do some real serious fuckin'!"

And the three filthy corsairs, aboard the Jolly Roger pirate ship Suite One-Eleven, did just that. By twos and by threes. Without mercy. As uncaring pirates would, and in just the raping way the whore piss mouth wench cunt loved.

Afterward, as Tracy came out of the bathroom, she saw Ken and Joe handing money to Burns. That bastard, she thought, has pimped me out! Images of freebooting pirates were not forthcoming. But what could she do about it? Nothing came to her mind. She was Burns' sex slave, and that, as they say, was that.

After Ken and Joe had departed, Burns informed her, with the images of her shuddering orgasms still fresh in his mind, "Tracy, next week will be even better for you than tonight. You'll get the chance to suck and fuck eight new men. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He smiled sweetly at her.

"Sure," she lied. "It sounds great. I can hardly wait, Mr. Burns." But she knew she wouldn't like it. She would hate it. Just three men had made her pussy real sore. Eight men would kill her.

And, knowing Burns would be making money from it, well, that was just too much to bear. And the idea of swallowing eight or nine glasses of man piss, well, she didn't even want to think about that.

As Burns left the room, leaving her alone, she knew she just had to find a possible way out of her horrible predicament . . .

* * * * * *

TRACY'S POSSIBLE WAY OUT appeared to her in the Wellington's lobby. On a sign listing all the hotel's personnel. There it was, on line four, HOTEL SECURITY: Mr. Taggart O. Bonewell . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Suite 901, Ext. 218.

Tag, Mr. Bonewell in her mind, had been her father's partner on the police force, for but a few months, before Tag then suddenly up and quit the blue life. She had only met Mr. Bonewell a handful of times, seven or eight years ago now, but he had spoken highly of her father. And her father seemed to like and trust Mr. Bonewell.

But how could she go to him now and lay this whole sordid affair out before him? What would he now think of the innocent little 10-year old girl he probably remembers from back then? No, she could never muster up that much courage.

But, she thought, what if he still has Lucy Fern as his secretary? From what she remembered, Lucy had seemed a big and necessary part of Mr. Bonewell's life. Lucy had even told her once, in no uncertain terms, that she and Taggy, her way of putting it, were lovers, and fucked regularly, her exact words.

If anyone could be trusted to understand her awful plight, Lucy sure could. She could mange to talk to Lucy. Then Lucy could talk to Tag. He would still have to know all the horrible details of the things she had done, but at least it wouldn't be herself doing the explaining.

So, with a wishful, and faintly hopeful heart, she set out to locate one of the hotel's house phones . . .

* * * * * *

LUCY FERN, in a crisp, very businesslike voice, answered on the first ring. "Hotel Security. Mr. Taggart Bonewell's office. How may I help you?"

Recognizing Lucy's cheerful voice at once, Tracy said, "I don't know if you remember me or not, Lucy, but this is Tracy Winsome. I was . . . "

"Tracy! Sure I remember you. How ya been, kid? Long time no see!" She sounded cheerful. Normal. Everyday. Tracy envied her.

"Yes, it has been a long time. As to how I've been, well, physically I'm fine, Lucy, but mentally . . . oh, Lucy . . . oh . . . I've got a big problem, a really big problem!" She started to cry, the tears flowing freely.

"Whoa, kid, get a grip, OK? This call came in on the house line, so I know you're in the hotel somewhere. The lobby?"

"Y-yes." She said, sniffling.

"OK, now listen to me, Trace. There's a restaurant called The Den in the lobby. I'll meet you there in, oh, ten minutes. All right?"

"Okay. I can see it from here. Thanks Lucy."