SEX RAIDERS

OF THE

RISING SUN

All characters in this book are

fictional and any resemblance to

persons living or dead is purely

coincidental

Copyright ©1982

by

STAR DISTRIBUTORS, LTD.

P.O. BOX 362, CANAL ST. STATION

New York, New York 10013

FOREWORD

Sweet little Lucille was a tender teenage virgin - but that wouldn't save her from the painful degradation of a gang rape.

The skinny little girl with the exquisite face of a terrified angel and a slim, smooth, pink, long-legged little body, would be raped, right beside her mother.

Lucille, her mother, and her father had been captured by the Imperial troopers of the Rising Sun who had invaded the island.

A patrol of five brutish infantrymen and a thin sadistic corporal had herded the family to a deserted spot, alone and isolated.

Lucille sobbed helplessly and hopelessly as she watched her mother, Joan, being held naked and spread-eagled on the ground.

Her mother was a lovely, long-legged, bosomy blonde. She strained against the filthy, grizzled, brutish troopers.

The corporal pulled down his pants. Lucille saw his stiff cock, and quickly looked away. The corporal mounted her mother.

Joan screamed as she was penetrated by the stiff cock of the first rapist.

Then it was her daughter's turn to scream, as rough hands pulled Lucille down and spread her legs, exposing her virgin pussy!

CHAPTER ONE

“The threesome of captive nuns squirmed in their small cell.

The cell was stark, simple, efficient. The floor was gray concrete, while the walls were made of concrete blocks painted with a thin coat of whitewash.

There were no windows, only a solid metal door which looked from outside, and a ventilator grille some eight feet above the floor.

The only furnishing in the cell was a crude wooden bucket, which served as the toilet facilities for the three sisters. The bucket needed emptying.

Sister Bridget was the oldest of the three nuns, and the highest ranking member of the convent hierarchy, before the convent had ceased to exist.

Sister Bridget was big-boned and buxom, with a square-shaped face, wide shoulders, heavy breasts, a stout middle, wide hips, thick meaty legs.

Bridget was in her middle thirties. Sister Anne was ten years younger. Where Bridget was wide and full-bodied, Anne was elongated and lean.

Anne had a thin, sharply featured face, with deep-set eyes, a long nose, thin lips. She was tall and lanky, with long legs.

Sister Miriam was the baby, the youngest and prettiest of the trio.

Miriam was barely out of her teens, and her face was round and soft with traces of baby fat. She was five and a half feet tall, and nubile.

With their stark black and white habits, the three sisters looked like captive penguins confined in the arctic whiteness of the cell.

A bare bulb set in the ceiling provided the dim light.

Sister Miriam's thin shoulders shook from the effort of holding back her sobs. Her deep brown eyes misted with tears, while her lower lip trembled.

Sister Anne sat in the far corner of the cell, facing the blank door. Her eyes were closed, while her lips moved in silent prayer.

Miriam wore round glasses with thin wire rims. Tears spilled from her eyes, splashing the lenses and blurring her vision.

Sister Bridget flashed a stern glance at her. In circumstances such as these, morale was all-important and must be maintained.

Bridget said to Miriam; “You must put your faith and trust in the Lord, Sister Miriam. He is the rock and the salvation.”

“Oh, Sister Bridget, I'm so scared!” Miriam's voice broke into a wail.

Anne stopped her silent prayer and went to comfort the girl. Her long black skirts swished around her ankles as she went to Miriam and sat beside her.

Anne put her arm around the girl's thin quaking shoulders. Sobbing, Miriam buried her face in the starched whiteness of the older nun's bosom.

Tears splashed on the white front, dampening it. Anne pressed the girl's face to her small thin breasts, and patted the back of Miriam's head.

Bridget scowled, not approving of this indulgence of the girl's weakness.

Miriam was a new nun, a novitiate who had been recently assigned to the mission hospital and school on the South Seas island.

With the suddenness of a tropical squall, war had broken out, and the island had been overrun and conquered by hordes of the Rising Sun.

The three nuns were far from their little Pacific island now.

They were in the heart of enemy territory now, on a remote and rocky island off the western coast of Japan, an island of captive females.

The Japanese lightning attack, the Oriental counterpart to the blitzkrieg tactics used so successfully by the Nazis in the conquest of Europe, had swept relentlessly over countless numbers of small strategic islands. The horrors of war which the three nuns had witnessed in the two weeks since their island was taken were a catalogue of cruelty and crimes.

They had seen men and boys sadistically tortured, on a variety of infernal pain machines which seemed to have been invented by the Devil himself.

They had witnessed rape, murder, looting, and arson, as the Imperial troopers vented their twisted lusts on a captive and helpless populace.

The Japanese troopers were rape-crazed. Neither silver-haired grandmothers, ripe with old age, nor tender pre-pubescent girl-children, had been spared from their lusts. The nuns were lucky, in that they had fallen into the hands of officers, rather than the maddened hordes of enlisted men.

After the island was subjugated, and the populace rounded up and penned in compounds, the prettiest and healthiest females were isolated.

These females were destined for the use and abuse of the conquerors. Some were sent to brothels on Nippon. Another group had been destined for this rocky island, surrounded by the turbulent waters of the Sea of Japan.

The nuns had been part of the consignment of female flesh shipped to the isle. They were confined together in the prison building.

They had not been sexually molested by their captors - so far.

They were far from alone on the island. There were over three dozen white women and girls present in this place, as well as the nuns could estimate.

The women and girls had been stolen from the various islands winch had fallen under Nipponese sway in the hectic early days of the war.

The captives were American, French, Dutch English, and Canadian, all of these countries having established their presence in the Pacific.

The captives had been wives and mothers daughters and sweethearts, working girls and ladies of leisure - but that was all in the dead past.

Now, the lines of social class and position, of nationality and creed, had been erased by the unity shared by all the females - slavery.

Sisters Bridget, Miriam, and Anne were relative newcomers to this prison island, having been set off on it a few days ago.

The nuns were still dressed in the starkly severe habits which distinguished their religious order, although those garments were soiled and disheveled.

Everything they owned of value, crosses rings, money, brooches, whatever, had been looted from them in the earliest hours of their capture on the home island.

The nuns counted themselves lucky that their personal possessions were the only items which were stolen. During the conquest of the home island, and the hellish trip in the hold of the prison ship, they had witnessed scenes of rape horror.

Sister Bridget was a model of uncompromising firmness. She viewed this as a test of faith. It was easy to be devout in times of peace, when things went well. True faith was shown in times of trouble, such as now.

Sister Bridget snapped this harsh reminder at Sister Miriam.

Sister Anne scowled disapprovingly at Bridget over Miriam's thin shoulders, which still shook as the youngest nun fought to stifle her sobs.

After all, Anne and Bridget were old in the holy order, while Miriam was little more than a child, and could be pardoned for her fears.

Anne felt those fears herself, but she fought to master them. She would face her Imperial captors with the same strength that the blessed martyrs of the early Church had faced their pagan Roman masters.

Sister Miriam got control of herself and lifted her head from Anne's thin bosom. Miriam was much younger than Anne, but her breasts were more lush, since Anne was more or less flat-chested, while Miriam's bosom was full and high and firm.

Miriam's smooth pale face shone with the tracks of her tears. She rubbed her eyes, which were red-rimmed from sobbing.

“I'm sorry,” she mumbled. “It won't happen again.

Sister Bridget's stern face was softened by a wintery smile, a smile which dissolved as she felt rather than heard approaching footsteps.

The vibrations seemed to ripple through the stone floor. Bridget sat upright, frozen in a listening posture. The others noticed her intentness.

They heard the footsteps too, booted footsteps which pounded dully through the corridor outside the row of cells where the women were held.

The trio of nuns were paralyzed with fright. Bridget chewed flakes of dry skin off her wide, dark pink lips, her jaws flexing with tension.

The martial tread of boots halted outside the cell door.

Through the holes of the ventilator could be heard the barked commands of a soldier speaking in Japanese.

A key rattled in the locked door of the cell.

Sister Miriam gasped, her pale face going absolutely dead white. Her mouth gaped open. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth and bit it to keep from crying out. The door was flung open violently, swinging open to slam back against the stone wall with a clang like a tolled bell.

Three soldiers stood in the corridor, an officer and two guards.

The officer was tall, thin, young, with a high, hairless forehead and a thin mustache. The guards were short, stocky, brutish.

The officer looked in the cell. Signaling to the guards and giving orders, he had the trio of nuns herded out into the hall.

The sisters protested, but the officer could not or would not speak English, and ignored their protests..

Sister Anne timidly tugged his sleeve to catch his attention. A guard caught her by the back of the neck and jerked her away.

He lifted his hand to strike her. Anne cowered against the wall, squealing. The officer issued a curt command to his man.

Reluctantly the soldier lowered his hand, and pushed Anne back in line. The three nuns were arranged in a single file, with a soldier in front and in back of them, and the officer leading the way.

The hall was long and made of stone, old stone which smelled damp and musty. On either side were similar cells identical to the one which had confined the nuns.

From behind those locked doors came the sounds of females; sighs, moans, cries, hysterical laughter, shrieks, loud angry voices.

Hanging heavy in the air was the smell of flesh, compounded of sweat and fear and soil, similar to that found in the steerage hold of a passenger ship.

The officer's nostrils twitched in delicate distaste. He walked briskly, his polished brown leather boots flashing ahead in bold long-legged strides.

The group went through a door at the end of the hall, a door which was locked behind them. They climbed a narrow stone staircase.

The dungeons were in the lowest level of the prison. The group entered a different passage at the first landing.

They were still underground, but one level higher than the sub-basement where the prison pens were located. It smelled cleaner and fresher in here.

At the end of a twisting hall, well-lit with buzzing fluorescents which shed a harsh unnatural glare, they came to a door guarded by two more soldiers.

This door led to an antechamber from which two rooms branched off, one small, one large and white and shining.

At this point, the females were separated.

Sister Miriam and Anne were hustled into the small room, herded in there quickly before they even knew that they were being split up.

When they were forced into the small room, the door was shut and locked. They pounded on the door, calling out for Sister Bridget, to no avail and no answer.

Sister Bridget was herded into the large room. It was a circular room, with high white walls and a tiled floor which was liver-brown.

There was a clinical aura and atmosphere to the room. A sharp smell of alcohol and disinfectant hung in the air, burning Bridget's nostrils.

In the center of the floor was an examining table with metal stirrups and sinister restraining straps. To one side was a stainless steel sink.

A drain sat in the slightly shallow depression of the round tiled floor. Wooden cabinets with glass fronts lined the walls, holding a variety of bottles, stoppers, flasks, vials and the like.

Sister Bridget had worked in the mission hospital, ministering to the physical ailments of the native population of her home island.

She recognized the clinical implications of this new room.

Looking up, she saw the round lights which were supported on chains from the ceiling high overhead. About fifteen feet up the wall, a gallery looked down on the room.

Sister Bridget stood in the center of the floor, each of her wrists gripped by a soldier standing at either side. They tightly gripped her wrists.

A door slid open in the wall, and two figures entered, a man and a woman, both Japanese, both dressed in sterile hospital whites.

The male was young, with jet black hair slicked straight back from his forehead, which bulged prominently, almost freakishly.

He was slim, small, compact, with amber skin. He wore a white tunic covered with a pale green rubber hospital gown.

The second was a female. She was lushly, voluptuously built, and not even the stiffly cut lines of her severe, starched white uniform could hide the lushness of her curves. Her cleanly chiseled face was icily expressionless.

Her breasts thrust against the front of her hospital whites, stretching the material, straining at the seams, threatening to burst free.

This nurse - for such was her role - was short and stocky, buxom. Her pale rubber apron covered her from waist to knees.

The white skirt of her uniform was stretched across the rounded globes of her buttocks, and the skirt's hem came down past her knees.

Her thighs were thick and plump and her calves were shapely with slender ankles. Her legs were bizarrely sheathed in brown rubber stockings.

The rubber soles of the shoes of the nurse and doctor squealed and squeaked on ceramic tiles as they crossed the floor to Bridget.

The guards increased their grip on the nun's wrists, as though expecting resistance.

Doctor and nurse, halted a few feet from Sister Bridget, facing her. The doctor nodded his head, bowing with the ancient politeness of his race.

“Good evening, sister.” His English was good, marred only by a breathy hiss. “Permit me to introduce myself. I am Doctor Serizawa.”

He pointed to the female, who stood a pace or two behind him. “And this is my assistant Nurse Michi.”

Michi's dark brown eyes were almost black, and looked like chips of coal set in her wide moon face with its smooth amber flesh.

“You call yourself a doctor,” Sister Bridget began. “God pity you! No real healer could abide the filthy conditions that the captives are being held in.”

One of the guards, not understanding her words, but knowing the insolence in her tone, started to give the nun a good shaking.

Serizawa ordered the guard to desist, a command which was instantly obeyed.

“One realizes that our accommodations leave something to be desired,” Serizawa said silkily.

“There are certain rules regarding the humane treatment of prisoners of war!” Bridget reminded him.

Nurse Michi spoke for the first time: “Japan did not enter into any of those treaties regarding the rights of prisoners of war.”

“Japan had no need of treaties,” Serizawa said. “We are humane by nature. Examine your own treatment. You will have no cause for complaint.”

“You have been fed, sheltered, and secured from violence by some of our, er, over-impetuous troops - troops whose eagerness to serve the divine Emperor sometimes leads them into actions which are perhaps too zealous.”

“As for your complaint about the lack of medical attention, Sister,” Dr. Serizawa went on. “that matter is in the process of being corrected right this moment. In fact, that is the reason that you are here.”

“Me?” Sister Bridget laughed mockingly. “I don't need medical attention. Why, I'm as fit as a horse - I've never been sick a day in my life!”

“How fortunate for you!” Nurse Michi murmured, her face blank, unreadable.

“All the same, I am a great believer in preventive medicine,” Serizawa said. “You may think that you are healthy, while all the time you may have been infected by any one of a number of various ailments or disorders.”

“No, Sister, you will have to be examined thoroughly, to make sure that you harbor no illness which might spread among the other captives.”

“I tell you, I don't need an examination!” Sister Bridget snapped.

A door opened in the wall of the overhead gallery. A slim figure, a man dressed in a neat dark suit, stepped out on the balcony.

Resting his hands on the waist-high guardrail, the man looked down. He was a silver-haired Japanese in his late fifties, smooth and distinguished, with a thin face and a pencil-thin gray mustache.

Nurse Michi looked up and saw the man. It's Minister Tono,” she whispered to Serizawa.

“Good; now we may begin,” Serizawa replied.

Nurse Michi lashed out, slapping the nun across the face. The blow rang loudly in the echoing circular walls of the chamber.

Michi was a large, strong woman, and the force of the slap rocked Bridget's head, knocking her black hood off her head.

It fell to her neck, revealing her short brown hair underneath. A red, five-fingered imprint burned on Bridget's cheek where she had been struck.

Bridget was angry, and in the first flush of that anger she forgot to turn the other cheek, as her gentle Master had commanded his worshippers to do.

Nurse Michi snapped; “You are a slave now, nothing more! Never forget that!”

“I am the slave of God, and nothing more!” Bridget snapped back, anger thick in her voice as she wrenched against the guards who held her tight.

Nurse Michi slapped her again. Sister Bridget said through clenched teeth; “You're very brave against someone who's helpless!”

“You are a most tempestuous, violent and insolent woman,” Serizawa said. “Apparently you must be re-educated!”

“You're the one who needs education - in the ways of the Prince of Peace!”

“The Prince of Peace, yes,” Serizawa laughed. “I well know the history of the Prince of Peace, and of his church.”

Serizawa continued; “The Crusades, the Inquisition, the Thirty Years War - the Church of your Prince of Peace could hardly be more warlike! However, the study of your church's history, while instructive and amusing, is not the purpose for which you have been brought here, Sister. Our goal is to make history, not discuss it. And, to further that end, I must request that you disrobe.”

“Take off my clothes?!” Sister Bridget squawked. “Are you mad?!”

“I realize the celebrated modesty of the Brides of Christ,” Serizawa murmured politely. In any case, you must realize that it impossible for me to give you a complete and thorough examination unless you are fully naked.”

Sister Bridget would not violate her modesty. Instead, it was violated for her, at Dr. Serizawa's command, when the guards brutally stripped her.

Up on the overhead gallery, Minister Tono's eyes narrowed with interest.

Tono was Minister Extraordinary to the Armaments Development Group of the High Command of the War Council.

Dr. Serizawa was a brilliant, if erratic scientist. His latest researches might be invaluable to the prosecution of the war, especially in the treatment of the captured populations, of which, there was already a large number.

Tono had traveled a long way from the comforts of the Imperial Court, to this forsaken spur of rock which rose like a breaching black whale from the dark green sea. Yet the trip promised to furnish its amusements.

It was most amusing to watch the nun being stripped by the soldiers

Tono was hardly an expert on the customs of the heathen Occidentals, especially their bizarre religious customs and cults.

He knew however, that Sister Bridget was a nun, a female monk as it were, pledged with the other sisters of her order to be chaste and temperate.

Sister Bridget was a big woman, and stood close to half a head taller than her short stooped captors, who now brought her low.

The guards grunted and chuckled. Sister Bridget, breathing hard, pulled and tore to get free. The soldiers knocked her down to the floor.

She fell awkwardly, landing on her plump bottom, her thick dark skirt riding up above her knees, flashing a pair of surprisingly lovely white legs.

She fought to pull down the skirt, to cover herself, but the guards were all over her, their hairy hands like claws, ripping and tearing.

The sharp sound of ripping fabric sounded, and a long section of her flesh was bared as part of her nun's habit was torn.

The habit was black, with a stiff-starched white bosom. This white frontpiece pressed against Bridget's breasts, flattening them out, trying to minimize her buxom dimensions. A guard ripped it clear of her front.

Her skin was white and shining as the habit was torn off. The guards held her kicking form on the floor, rending her garments.

Under the black and white habit was a white linen chemise. Her shoulders were wide and white and shining, and the fullness of her heavy breasts could be seen.

This was more than amusing, it was exciting, thought Minister Tono. His palms were sweaty where they clutched the guard rail.

His cock was heavy, tingling. His balls crept inside his shorts as they tightened up, while his penis unfolded and stiffened.

Sister Bridget shrieked wordlessly, striking out at her abusers with her fists. She connected a solid blow, causing one of the guards to roar with surprised pain.

He would have dealt her a crushing blow in return for the fat lip she had given him, but Serizawa sharply commanded him to restrain his anger.

The guard, rubbing his mouth, squatted over Bridget, avoiding the crippling kicks she aimed, at him, while the other guard held her down.

The guard who had been struck, bent down and gripped her breasts, squeezing them mercilessly through the thin fabric of the white chemise.

His fingers dug deeply into breasts which were the size and shape of melons of flesh. He dug his broken nails into the soft mounds.

Sister Bridget screeched and sobbed. The soldier tore down the front of her chemise, pulling it down to her middle, baring her bosom.

Minister Tono murmured with approval. The nun was equipped with a magnificent animal physicality, a lushly overdeveloped physique.

The bare white breasts showed the red marks of punishing claw-like fingers. Her nipples were the size of thimbles, while the rosettes were wide and blurred.

The sneering soldier gripped each nipple between thumb and forefinger and sadistically twisted them. Bridget yowled, her pale face contorted with pain.

He gave a final vicious twist to the nipples before' releasing them. The sister fell back, sobbing, clutching her wounded nipples. The punishment caused the nipples to stand out stiff and straight and erect. They were red and swollen and angry from the abuse.

Bridget's tears rolled down her pained face as she covered her breasts with her hands. Her aching nipples, sore from the mistreatment given them by the savage hurting hands of the soldier, throbbed with pain against the palms which covered them.

Sister Bridget, bare from the waist up, lay on her back on the cool tiles of the floor, her legs raised and knees bent under her long black skirt.

She sobbed with rage and pain and shame. Her hands shielded her breasts from the leering soldiers and the clinically cool doctor and nurse.

But the nun's concern for the modesty of her breasts was short-lived.

The soldiers snatched with hard hurting hands at her long skirt, shredding the somber fabric into strips, tossing the strips over their shoulders.

They avoided Bridget's kicking legs. She squealed as the last of her nun's skirt was ripped off, revealing the plain white linen bloomers she wore.

Sister Bridget did not permit herself the sinfully indulgent luxury of silk or lace panties, but instead wore old-fashioned, antique undergarments.

The white bloomers covered her from the waist to the knees. They were tight at her solid waist, loose and baggy at the hips, and tight at the leg openings above the knees.

Minister Tono nodded approvingly. This was a fine specimen indeed! The nun was solidly built, with big breasts and wide hips.

She would be perfect for breeding purposes!

Now the bloomers were torn from Bridget's hips. Her hands flashed down from her bosom, which she no longer worried about covering.

She fought to hold onto the last shredded scraps of linen as her bloomers were torn from her, displaying wide white shining hips.

Bridget's bush was thick, dark, chestnut brown, a delta of soft brown fur.

Dr. Serizawa ordered the soldiers to strap the sister down on the table.

The guards jerked Bridget to her feet. All her masses of soft warm flesh - her breasts, belly, buttocks, thighs - jiggled as she was dragged across the floor.

She sobbed, tossing her weeping head this way and that. There was no one to appeal to, one who would show her mercy.

She tried to make things more difficult for the soldiers by letting her weight go limp. She was a big woman, solidly fleshed.

The guards were short and stocky, but quite powerful. One of them took her by the wrists. Laughing, the other soldier caught her kicking feet.

Sister Bridget was dragged naked across the floor, her body bowed, her bottom swinging over the floor, her shoulders and hips aching.

She kicked and flailed, but the soldiers held her tightly, hustling her to the examining table, and hoisting her up on it.

The waist-high table was a thickly padded table close to six feet long and three feet wide, its cushions covered with dull brown leather.

Covering the top of the table was a white rubber sheet which had been placed there by Nurse Michi. Sister Bridget was placed down on her back.

One soldier held her arms, stretching them back over her head, while the second soldier held her down on the table.

Bridget's hands were tied together, her wrists circled with loops of sticky white surgical tape which was tied by the nurse.

For the first time since entering the room, Michi showed some emotion. Her wide lips peeled back in a sinister smile of enjoyment as she did the binding.

Sister Bridget's hands were tied together.

The nun's bound hands were secured to a brass ring at the head of the table.

Dr. Serizawa circled the table, fastening the restraining straps which dangled down from it. The tough straps were made of canvas.

One strap was fastened around the nun's belly, close to her navel. Serizawa buckled the strap tightly, so that it dug deep into the nun's flesh.

Nurse Michi and a soldier went to Bridget's kicking feet. Rising up from the foot of the table were a pair of metal stirrups.

The nun's feet were tied to the stirrups, secured there with more of the sticky and unbreakable surgical tape.

Each ankle was tied to the metal, so that Sister Bridget's feet were raised a good eighteen inches off the table top.

The stirrups, which rose from each corner, also kept her feet tied and spread apart, so that she could not close her legs.

Sister Bridget's lush breasts rose like mounds of flesh, mounds which were crowned at the summit by a pair of stiff and angry red nipples.

Those breasts shook like mounds of jelly as the fear-maddened sister tore and strained at her bonds, but was unable to get free.

Now that her body was in helpless restraint, Sister Bridget could resist only with her mouth. She shrieked at her captors.

Her just anger provoked her to throw obscenities at her captors. Serizawa's command of the English vernacular was quite extensive, and he knew the meaning of the foul and filthy names she called him, but it bothered him not a bit.

Unflappable, cool, he continued to smile as he prepared the captive naked nun.

Nurse Michi wadded a ball of white cotton gauze and stood at Sister Bridget's head. Guessing the intention of the nurse, the nun clamped her mouth shut.

Nurse Michi was amused by such ineffectual resistance. She pinched Bridget's upturned nostrils shut between her thumb and forefinger.

Bridget held her breath, her face reddening, veins standing out on her face. Nurse Michi waited patiently over the squirming, suffocating captive.

Bridget sobbed as she opened her mouth to gasp for air. At that moment, Nurse Michi stuffed the thick cotton ball in the nun's mouth.

The wadded gauze ball filled the nun's mouth from its roof to the tongue. Before Bridget could work the wadded ball from her mouth, Michi covered it with a wide strip of white tape, holding the gag in place.

The captive was now subdued, bound and gagged and held in restraint on the table. Dr. Serizawa informed the soldiers that they were free to go.

The cruel and lustful troopers were clearly reluctant to depart and miss the show of what was going to happen to Sister Bridget.

But, as with all soldiers of the Imperial Army of the Rising Sun, they were schooled in obedience. Bowing politely, they exited the chamber.

When they were gone, Serizawa called upwards to Minister Tono.

“If your Excellency wishes, you will be better able to observe the experiment down here with us.” Serizawa suggested.

Tono declined the invitation at present. He moved a chair to the edge of the balcony and sat with his arms folded on top of the guard rail, his chin hanging over the edge as he looked down at the white, naked form of the buxom nun.

While Serizawa made ready for the experiment, Nurse Michi gave the nun a routine check-up.

Nurse Michi pressed the chilly metal knob of a stethoscope against Bridget's chest, monitoring the beats of her frantic, frightened heart.

The cool metal raised goosebumps on the nun's creamy white flesh. Bridget's heartbeat raced at a high rate, but that was normal under the circumstances.

Michi took the patient's blood pressure, peered into her ears and eyes and nostrils, and entered the readings on a file folder clipboard.

The more intimate and humiliatingly personal examination was reserved to the probing hands of Dr. Serizawa.

Serizawa pulled on a pair of skin-tight rubber gloves, pink, see-through, which he pulled up with snapping motions of his wrists.

Nurse Michi fit a sterile white antiseptic mask over the doctor's face, knotting it at the back of his head.

Serizawa approached Bridget. The nun lifted her head off the table, craning forward, trying to watch what would be done to her.

Muscular tension - and the tension of terror - made her veins and tendons stand out. Her eyes were wide and staring.

Serizawa peered at her pussy. The nun's pussy lips were full, fat, and fleshy. The slitted pussy lips were partially veiled by a furry brown bush.

Rubber wheels squealed on the tiles as Nurse Michi pushed a stainless steel instrument cart to the foot of the examining table.

Neatly arrayed on a sterile white covering were glittering instruments, sharp and pointed.

Nurse Michi at the doctor's soft-spoken command, handed Serizawa a pair of clamps.

Sister Bridget's frightened eyes rolled madly when she saw the wickedly gleaming instrument. A sick sound of fear bubbled behind her gag.

Nurse Michi smiled with vicious pleasure, savoring the disquiet of the nun.

Dr. Serizawa said from behind his mask, “Calm yourself, my dear lady. This won't hurt you at all… It is necessary that I make this examination for the record.”

The clamps were shaped like the kind of compass used to draw perfect circles. It consisted of a pair of curved legs joined together by adjustable jaws.

By turning the tiny balance wheel with his thumb, Serizawa could widen or close the twin legs of the clamps, and lock them in position.

Serizawa pressed the tips of the clamps to Sister Bridget's pussy flesh.

She reacted violently, as though shocked or stabbed, although she had not been hurt. But the metal was like ice against her warm pussy lips…

Serizawa's fingers in their tight rubber gloves pressed the tips of the clamps in her pussy lips, snugging them in place.

Serizawa thumbed open the legs wider. As the clamps opened, the nun's pussy lips were first split and then spread wide apart, exposing the pulsing pink inner membranes.

The membranes quivered and twitched as they were exposed to the harsh white light of the chamber. Bridget was gasping and breathless.

Her breath whistled through her nostrils - her breasts jiggled, rising and falling.

When the clamps were opened to their widest limit, the nun's pussy lips were spread along with them, revealing the inner folds of her pussy flesh.

Serizawa reached between Bridget's legs with his gloved hand.

The rubber gloves were thin. He felt the warmth of the white nun's quivering pussy lips as he ran his fingertips over them.

He reached inside her, probing, invading, pressing his finger over her membranes. Sister Bridget looked like she would faint.

Dr. Serizawa's invading finger entered her slowly, encountering no resistance.

Nurse Michi stood at his shoulder, holding a pen-sized flashlight, the pencil-thin beam she shone up inside the naked bound nun.

Serizawa buried his middle finger all the way inside the nun. Playfully he pushed his finger in and out, fucking the nun with it.

At last, he removed his finger. Her juices shone on the slick rubber glove.

“This woman is no virgin,” he announced to Minister Tono and the nurse. “She has given birth to at least one child, many years ago.”

It was true. Bridget had not always been a nun. She was married at age 15, and a mother before she was 16.

But both her young husband and child had been carried off by sickness and accident, and Bridget had renounced the world of the flesh for the world of the convent.

Serizawa closed the clamps, releasing the pressure which kept her pussy lips spread wide apart. The clamps were set aside.

Serizawa removed the sterile white mask which had covered half his face

He said to Nurse Michi, “We are ready to begin the second phase of our little experiment. Have Ghidrah summoned.”

Nurse Michi stepped out of the chamber to speak to the guards standing outside the door. One of them went to fetch Ghidrah.

* * * * *

Ghidrah was a special prisoner, his fate, and how he had come here were unusual circumstances indeed.

Lust for revenge - and just plain lust, hot and violent - had brought Ghidrah to a strange destiny, which was getting stranger by the minute.

In his early forties, he was a brawling bull of a man, brutish, bad tempered, with thick features, dark thick hair, and a swarthy muscular physique.

Ghidrah was a human shark in the eternal sea of the poor and common folk. Gifted with a powerful body and a cunning mind, he had risen far in the Nipponese underworld.

But the passions which had brought him wealth and power were also the passions which caused his downfall.

He had raped the wife and daughter of a prosperous trader named Binta.

Binta was in the import-export business, and had a warehouse on the docks. Ghidrah considered that his territory.

He had gone to Binta to demand the customary payments to keep trouble far from the business. But Binta was arrogant, a newcomer who knew not of Ghidrah.

Instead of hearing out Ghidrah respectfully, Binta had been insulting. His hired men, tough bully boys, had roughed up Ghidrah.

They had tossed the Japanese mobster into the harbor. He sputtered and splashed in the foul water, bobbing along with the other flotsam and jetsam.

Workers had lined the dock, looking down at him, laughter loud and booming against the warehouses, waves of laughter crashing down on Ghidrah.

Ghidrah had lost face. Such an insult was intolerable, and demanded deadly revenge. Ghidrah knew well how to bide his time for the right moment.

Binta had stood on the dock, legs spread, arms akimbo, fists on hips, leaning down over the water, laughing the loudest at Ghidrah when he was thrown in.

But Binta wasn't laughing on the night when Ghidrah took his revenge.

By day, at business, Binta wore the western suit and tie which businessmen the world over wore as a uniform, even here in the land of the Rising Sun.

But, in the privacy of his home, Binta followed the ways and customs of old Japan, changing his suit for a traditional robe.

Throughout his captivity, Ghidrah was endlessly consoled and strengthened by the memory of that night. The mere thought of it was intoxicating.

He recalled it well. It was midnight when he and his gang had taken control of Binta's mansion, a wild night when a storm howled.

The wealthy merchant lived on a high hill overlooking the harbor - a grand house circled with gardens and a high stone wall.

Ghidrah and his followers, four of his most trusted men, wore black clothes. They carried swords and knives.

Ghidrah had planned exhaustively, so that he knew every inch and fold of Binta's house. He and his men slipped over its wall into the grounds.

Crashing thunder drowned out the cries of Binta's servants, who were mercilessly massacred in their beds. Red blood spattered the walls.

When Ghidrah was in possession of the house and the family which owned it, Binta and his wife and daughter were brought into the main hall.

Slumped on the floor against the wall was a maidservant who had been cruelly struck down as she fled in screaming panic.

Ghidrah and his men looked like war demons, their faces showing animal lust and malice, their short swords and knives all red and dripping.

The merchant had worn a flowered robe that night. He had soiled it in his fear. His face was bruised, a cut over his eye oozed blood.

Ghidrah showed his leering triumphant face to Binta. At first, Binta did not recognize him. When he at last recalled who Ghidrah was, he groaned with mortal terror.

Binta was stripped naked. His body was soft, flabby. His trembling rippled his rolls of fat. The, folds of his belly nearly covered his small genitals.

Binta was bound standing up to one of the posts of his house, where he would have a good view of what was to come.

The ropes were tied tightly so that they cut into his soft flesh, chafing and irritating it. A gag filled his pleading mouth.

The house was alone on the hill, and its isolation, combined with the roaring storm insured that the group would be free from outside interference.

Ghidrah's men brought forth the females.

Madame Binta was the merchant's second wife. His first wife, the mother of his young daughter, had passed away some years previously.

Binta had taken himself a haughty and exquisite young beauty for his second wife. He bought her from her family, although the transaction was softened with elaborate courtesy and politeness on both sides.

Madame Binta was tall and willowy. Her jet black hair, thick and glossy, was pinned up in an elaborate hairstyle.

She was in her middle twenties. Her breasts were heavy, but high and firm, while her waist was thin, almost a wasp waist.

Her hips flared out alluringly, while her legs were long and strong.

Ghidrah had spied on Binta from the moment that he planned his revenge. From the moment he saw Madame Binta, he knew just what the revenge would be.

Iko, Binta's daughter by his first wife, was only 15. She was a skinny little thing, all wide eyes and gaping mouth in her round soft face.

Iko was short and petite, doll-like. She was just ripening into womanhood, just starting to blossom into soft curves.

Ghidrah had the wife and the daughter dragged in front of the merchant. Binta was sick when he saw them. He battled the ropes which held him.

Ghidrah strutted up and down, his sword flashing and dripping. He knew that a rich man like Binta would have gold hidden in the house - where?

The gag was taken from Binta's mouth so he could answer. Binta was struck in order to stop his sobbing. Ghidrah warned his men not to strike the merchant in the face - he would have to talk.

Tears flowed endlessly from Binta's eyes as he swore that he had no gold in the house. He was jabbed with sword points, which forced shrieks from him, but could not force him to admit the presence of the yellow metal.

Ghidrah strutted to Madame Binta. She was a beauty, and the loveliness of her inflamed his senses. His cock stirred inside his breeches.

Ghidrah inquired of the merchant if he still stuck to his story, his denial that there was no gold. Binta wept, shrieking that he didn't have the precious metal.

Ghidrah undid the knotted sash which was tied in a big bow at the back of Madame Binta's silk kimono. The lavishly embroidered kimono clung to her curves, revealing the high, firm mounds of her breasts, her flat belly, her rounded buttocks.

The sash was wound many times around the Madame's thin waist, so that when it was unrolled, close to fifteen feet of cloth spiraled on the floor.

Ghidrah tore the kimono off Madame Binta and stripped her naked.

She was silent, but her hate-filled eyes and sneering mouth spoke volumes of contempt. She did not even struggle with the men who held her.

Her skin was as smooth and shining as amber. Her breasts were firm mounds of flesh, her nipples and rosettes dark brown, like buttons pasted on her bosom.

Her hips were wide, her bush was dark, glossy, and silken like sealskin. Her pussy was a flower of pink flesh between her legs.

Iko, the teenage daughter, cried out when her step-mother was stripped naked, Madame Binta was glacial, icily cold and contemptuous of her captors.

Binta moaned, begging for his wife to be spared. Ghidrah told him that if he did not come across with gold, his wife and daughter would both be raped.

Iko screamed shrilly. One man alone could easily hold her slight form. He held her with his arms wrapped around her thin form, pinning them to her sides.

His groin pressed Iko's cupcake buttocks which were thinly covered by almost sheer white silk tap pants, the thin drawers were molded to the rounded globes of her bottom.

She was bare from the waist up. Her leering captor clapped his hands on her small, budding breasts, mashing and kneading the sensitive little mammaries.

His daughter pleaded for mercy. Her captor's lust was fired by her squirming bottom rubbing up and down against his cock.

His penis stiffened into a thick and raging erection. Iko felt the fleshy rod pressing her through the panties, terrifying her.

Ghidrah held Madame Binta's perfect face and kissed her brutally on the mouth. His rough, hairy hands groped her naked breasts.

Binta shrieked for him to stop. The kiss put fire in Ghidrah's groin. His cock jerked and jumped in his breeches, spasming and stiffening.

A tent-like bulge in the crotch of his breeches showed his heated lust. He broke off the kiss, the taste of Madame Binta sweet as honey in his mouth.

He put his hand between her polished amber thighs, and pushed them apart. She cried out in pain when he roughly rubbed her pussy.

She said that if her husband wouldn't tell where he hid his gold, she would. This forced the loudest roar yet from the bound merchant.

Madame Binta knew where her husband secreted his riches, and she told Ghidrah the location of the secret cache. He sent two men to find it.

Mocking Binta, the bandit told him that now Madame Binta and also his daughter, would now know just how highly Binta valued them.

Iko sobbed brokenly, more upset by her father's miserly treachery than by the way that her captor squeezed her small breasts.

He played with her nipples, pinching them. Binta shrieked that they shouldn't torment his daughter, that she was just an innocent youngster.

The girl's tiny nipples were pulled and pinched until they stood out stiff and straight and irritated on the gentle hills of her breasts.

The men returned, bearing a chest which was filled with gold coins, pieces of precious jade, pearls, and numerous other treasures.

It was time for the bandits to take the sweetest treasures of all.

Ghidrah's men forced Binta's young wife down on the floor on her back, at her bound husband's feet, where he would have a fine view of her.

Her hands and legs were held down to the floor, so that she was pinned and spread, with her perfect pussy nakedly vulnerable.

Ghidrah undid his sash and took down his breeches, exposing the massive rod of flesh which was his stiffly erect cock.

An involuntary moan was forced from Madame Binta when she saw the size of the member. Ghidrah held it in both his hands.

His cock was a club of flesh with a fat knobbed head. His balls were swollen. His member jerked and spasmed in his hands while he kneaded it.

Iko was dragged close by, so she could look down and watch her step-mother being raped. The teenager was in hysterical torment,

Ghidrah crouched down between Madame Binta's spread legs. Lifting her head, she moaned when she saw his awesome member being guided to her crotch.

Ghidrah stood on his knees. He rubbed the heated cock against Madame Binta's thighs, which were smoother than silk, and softer than butter.

He gripped his cock just below its knobbed head, pressing it against her quivering pussy. Her pussy lips twitched as though trying to escape. Ghidrah pressed the tip of his cock against her pussy lips and spread them apart, exposing the sleek, moist pink membranes within.

She was tight and raw, but he was relentless.

CHAPTER TWO

Young Madame Binta was tight in her pussy. Fear made her almost dry.

She shrieked shrilly when Ghidrah stuffed his swollen cock head inside her.

Her husband cried out with shame and dishonor when his wife was penetrated by the bandit.

As for Ghidrah himself, he could have cried out happily from the pure pleasure of having his sensitive cock head surrounded by her pearly cunt.

Her pussy lips were spread to the sides, and her membranes were stretched.

Like a horse trying to buck off a rider, Madame Binta tried vainly to shake off her rapists.

She arched her back, clenched her buttocks and lifted them off the floor in a futile attempt to dislodge the cock head from inside her.

Ghidrah was an old hand at rape, although it was rare in his violent career that he had the chance to mix business and pleasure the way he was doing tonight.

His broad, hairy hands with their thick strangler's fingers wrapped around the young matron's hips and pushed her bottom back down on the matted floor.

Ghidrah stretched out on top of the lovely young wife. His men gripped her ankles, holding her legs spread wide apart.

Ghidrah stretched out on top of her. Disgust, mixed with shame and pain on her face.

Ghidrah nuzzled the hillocks of her lush breasts, rasping his rough beard stubble against her mounds of soft, smooth flesh.

His cock sank deeper inside her. Penetration would be slow, due to the tightness and dryness of her, but that was fine with the bandit.

The weight of his body pinned her to the floor. He gripped her breasts in both hands, cruel strong fingers sinking into soft bosom flesh.

He pulled her breasts apart, pushed them together, plumping them up. He wrapped his open mouth around one of her nipples and sucked it stiff.

The hard brown point of flesh throbbed against his lips. Madame Binta moaned with dull, deep pain as he chewed and nibbled on both nipples.

His buttocks were tightly clenched. His belly slapped hers as he shoved his cock deep into her, entering her an inch at a time.

He worked his cock inside her, corkscrewing it. Cries were forced from her as the oversized rod of flesh filled and stretched her.

Presently his cock was surrounded with her pink pussy membranes. Ghidrah started to thrust, shoving his hips back and forth.

He worked his cock in and out of her. When he pulled back, he left only his fat knobbed cock head between her quivering pussy lips.

He was careful not to give her the chance to shake him loose, not even for a second. He would hold her impaled on his cock head.

The aching in his cock became intolerable, as that rod of flesh cried out to be plunged deep in the hot silken pit of the Madame's pussy.

Then Ghidrah would shove deep inside her, his cock throbbing as it glided over her membranes. He raped her with brutal violence.

Each thrust heated his cock higher and hotter. His rod burned red against her membranes. Soon his thrust took effect on her.

Madame Binta tried to fight it, but her body, betrayed her.

As the stiff cock raped her, moisture, thick and warm, oozed from the pores of her pink pussy membrane, lubricating her sex.

The sizzling secretions oiled the thrusting member, making it easier, and ever easier, for Ghidrah to glide his deep thrusts into her.

Sweat rolled from her amber flesh, leaving dark patches where her buttocks and shoulders pressed the mat on which she was being raped.

Her face was contorted, stark, haggard from the violent raping. Her eyes were squeezed shut, the thick lashes fluttering from each stroke.

Her mouth was open and moaning. Ghidrah coursed faster and faster, plowing his cock into her pussy, pumping it in and out.

Just before he came, he reached under her and gripped her buttocks, holding them one in each hand, his fingers sinking into soft bottom flesh.

He shoved deep, thrusting, stabbing her with his erection.

His cockhead bumped the quivering mouth of her womb. His hands held her hips tilted at the angle which insured the maximum penetration of her pussy.

He pushed his cock deep, forcing thin, high-pitched squeals out of her. Her pussy lips circled the base of his shaft.

His cock swelled inside her, then he came.

Semen jetted like red-hot lava, like molten blood, like liquid fire pumped directly from his violent raging flesh.

The orgasm made him feel like he was being turned inside out. He shook and shivered like he was struck by lightning.

Cum was pumped in thick gushes, spilling into her pussy, filling it to the brim with semen.

Twitching and thrashing under Ghidrah, gurgling sickly, Madame Binta wept bitter tears of shame, degradation and fear.

Ghidrah's cock quivered, jerking inside her as fresh cum was forced from his cock. At long last the spurting stream ebbed its flow.

Unlike most men, Ghidrah's orgasm did not tranquilize him and soothe his passions, but instead fired them up, so that he was burning for more.

Despite the intense orgasm, his cock was still as thick as ever, and was not diminished in the least, but was rigidly erect.

Gathering himself, Ghidrah raised himself on his forearms, blinking sweat from his slitted, slanted eyes, which glowed dark ad evilly.

Madame Binta lay like one who has fainted. Her lashes fluttered and her open mouth moaned as he pulled his cock out of her.

He took out his cock, spilling semen on her pussy lips, which were red and sore and chafed from the violence of her raping.

Pearly drops of semen clung to the head of his cock, oozing from the slit in the center of the head. But the full length of the shaft was oiled with her glistening juices.

Binta sobbed brokenly, while the other bandits mocked him and his weeping.

Ghidrah stood on his knees, turning to the side so he could show Madame Binta's husband and step-daughter the cock which had fucked and raped her.

Ghidrah rose, his cock thick, red, erect and sticky with semen and her honey.

Iko screamed shrilly as he went to her, his hard cock bobbing. The man holding her laughed and leered as the boss approached the tiny girl.

Iko's thin white silk drawers were ripped from her lean hips.

Madame Binta was full-bodied and womanly, with lushly rounded curves.

Her step-daughter, Iko, was slight, slender, and girlish. Her skin was the palest shade of amber, almost alabaster.

Her arms and legs were long and almost thin. Her breasts were little larger than ripe plums, while her pink nipples were tiny.

The barest ridges of her ribs showed under her taut, young flesh. Her hipbones were prominent and jutting, while her hips were lean, almost boyish.

Her legs were long, smooth, shapely and slender. Her pussy was lightly bushed, the silken hairs covering it so sparse that they were more like a smudge or shadow.

The girl's pussy lips were thin, narrow, pink and delicate. Her face was round and juvenile with baby fat, making her look even more childish than she was.

At the command of the bandit chief, Iko, sobbing hysterically, was dragged to the chest which held the gold and precious treasures.

The chest had a square shaped body with a rounded top that came up to waist height. It was solid, brassbound, and heavy.

The naked girl was stretched face down, across the chest. Her flat tummy pressed its rounded top, her legs hung down on one side, and her arms, head, and upper body hung down on the other.

Iko had been positioned so that she faced her bound father, who groaned, sobbed, and pleaded with his cruel captors to spare the tender youngster.

Ghidrah stood to one side, making a great show of thoughtfully stroking his chin as he looked down at the girl, who was faint with fear.

Ghidrah said that he was inclined to show mercy. If Iko pleased him orally, he promised to spare her virgin pussy.

The girl would have to serve and satisfy him with her mouth.

Iko broke into fits of renewed sobbing when this announcement was made, and her moaning father weepingly begged Ghidrah not to make her do it.

But Ghidrah was stubborn and would not be moved. He walked around behind the girl. Anxious, Iko looked over her shoulder, watching him.

His men took hold of her thin legs and held them, spread wide apart, exposing her delicate, pink-slitted pussy.

Ghidrah fingered and fondled the girl's pussy lips. He took hold of his cock and poked its head against the girl's sensitive labia.

Iko screeched and sobbed when the cock head prodded her pussy. Ghidrah pulled her pubic hair, twisting it by the roots to get her attention.

When the girl stopped shrieking, he demanded to know if she preferred to service his cock with her mouth, or with her virgin pussy.

Again, he reminded her that he would spare her virgin hole, only if she pleased him with her mouth. Iko was too sick with fear to do anything but nod her head submissively in agreement.

Binta the merchant tried to look away, but a few sharp jabs of a knife point in his soft parts quickly captured his attention back to the scene of his daughter's defilement.

As for Madame Binta, she was too exhausted and drained from the physical ordeal of her own raping to do anything more than lay moaning on the floor.

Ghidrah stood facing the youngster. He took a fistful of her hair, twisting it as he jerked her head up, leveling her face with his cock.

He pressed the tip of a knife point against the throbbing veins in her neck, warning her that death would halt any attempt she might make at biting him.

His red swollen cock head was wet and sticky with cum, the combined fluids of Madame Binta and Ghidrah's previous encounter. A fat, pearly drop of seed oozed from the tip when he took hold of the rod and squeezed it. He guided the penis tip to the frightened child's face. He forced her to pucker up her soft, full lips and press them against his cock head and kiss it, the cum coating her fat lips as she did his bidding.

Then, at his command, she parted her lips and out came her little pink tongue, pointed and flickering, she probed at the tip of his cock and started licking.

His cock head, which had been semi-erect, jerked and stiffened and spasmed again into a full grown and impressive erection.

The cock stood out stiff and straight from his hips, a rod of flesh. He put its head fully between the girl's lips, stuffing it into her mouth.

He rubbed his cock head against the slippery roof of her mouth. Her tongue was like velvet, twitching and moving, firing up the heated underside of his cock.

Her puckered lips closed on the cock. He rocked his hips back and forth, thrusting his hard cock in and out of her lips.

He always left the fat head between her puffy lips. When he thrust forward, his cock rolled over her tongue and its head bumped the back of her throat.

Each time he stuffed his cock in deep, Iko's crying eyes widened with fear.

Sometimes she gagged when his cock head bumped at the soft tissues at the back of her throat. Her round cheeks hollowed as she sucked his root.

He held her head in place and fucked her mouth. His cock was a red rod pumping in and out of her face. Just as he was about to cum, he pulled out.

Holding his cock in position, he came all over her face.

Iko cried out in fear and revulsion as the stiff, red rod spat long looping lines of milky white semen.

The cum jetted on her nose, eyes, cheeks, mouth, and chin.

Ghidrah gripped his cock, squeezing each and every drop from it.

Iko's small, budding breasts pressed down on the smooth surface of the brassbound trunk. Ghidrah pulled at them, abusing her nipples, pulling and pinching them.

Binta started shouting when Ghidrah strolled in back of the girl, stroking his still stiff cock. His men spread the girl's legs open again for him.

The merchant shrieked that Ghidrah had no honor - that he had sworn not to rape the girl if she mouthed his cock to orgasm.

Iko, a brutalized virgin, had kept her part of the bargain. Was Ghidrah going to keep his, or was he a man without honor?

Ghidrah smilingly reminded Binta, his wife, and daughter, that he had only promised to spare the girl's virgin pussy from his cock.

He had said nothing about other intimate parts of her, parts which were equally virginal and equally delicious.

Parts such as her virgin ass.

As he spoke, he stood between her spread legs. He patted her cupcake buttocks, which were so small and deliciously petite that each one would have fit in his palm.

The girl's ass jiggled and rippled under his fondling hand. Iko went into a fit of hysterics since she was a sheltered young lady who never even dreamed that men existed who would aim their lust at a girl's plump bottom.

Ghidrah took hold of his cock and slapped it down on her buttocks with a meaty thwack. He rubbed the sticky, swollen rod against her ass cheeks.

Smears of semen and saliva were rubbed on her perfect buttocks as he massaged his cock against them.

He took hold of her quivering buttocks and pried them open. Each half of her bottom was like a peach, a smooth and shining globe.

Nestled deep inside the cleft of her buttocks was the tiny rosebud of her anus, a pinkish brown flower of flesh.

Ghidrah reached between her buttocks and prodded the little hole. The rosebud quivered and contracted under his rough handling.

Iko shrieked shrilly when he pressed his fingertip against her tight hole and pushed it inside her, shoving it deep.

She was incredibly hot and tight in her ass… far hotter and tighter than she would be between her legs, in her virgin pussy.

Ghidrah took his finger out of her ass, and pushed it into her open, gasping lips, making her suck it to clean and moisten it. He told her to get it wet, because she would need the moisture to ease the path of his cock into her tight ass. Encouraged by this, Iko sucked and wet his finger with her mouth almost eagerly.

Ghidrah took his finger out of her mouth and smeared the saliva coated finger between her splayed butt cheeks, rubbing it in the crack of her ass, stuffing it inside the tight and tiny hole.

He repeated this several times, each time making the miserable girl suck the brown coated finger clean and then coating it with her spit for lubrication.

He took the last of her spit on his finger and rubbed it on his cock head. Then he pried open her ass cheeks once more and guided the red rod of his cock down between her buttocks.

The frail thin girl was held down across the chest of treasure by the burly toughs. Her struggles failed to win her the freedom of even a few inches of movement.

Gripping his cock below its swollen head, Ghidrah guided it into Iko's little quivering rosebud anus, pressing it firmly.

His cock head was a wedge of f1esh which pried the pink wrinkled folds open.

He grunted and groaned from his erotic labors as he stuffed the cock head into the screaming teen. Her cries reached a crescendo when he shoved the cock head past her anal ring, cracking the cherry of her ass.

His cock head now was buried in her tight, clutching rectum.

Her rectum gripped him like a vise. Ignoring her shrill hysterical cries, he worked his rod of flesh up inside her ass.

The heat, the creaminess, the slick silken grip of her stretched rectum, all combined to give him an overwhelming experience.

His fatigue and his previous orgasms were a forgotten as he forced his cock up into the teen's ass. He gripped her lean hips tightly.

Each time Iko screamed or writhed or thrashed, her rectum would press tightly on his cock which filled her completely, giving her rapist an added thrill.

While Ghidrah fucked Binta's daughter in the ass, he gave his men the signal to start in and have their fun with Madame Binta.

It was Madame Binta's turn to scream like her like her step-daughter, as the bandits pounced on her like wolves, grabbing for her soft flesh and even softer sex.

Ghidrah's lust was fanned by the sight of watching his men take turns mounting the merchant's young wife and brutally raping her.

His own cock thrust back and forth inside Iko. Each gliding pass of his cock over her tight and creamy membranes, heated his lust even higher.

Finally he planted his cock deep in the heated core of her ass and stopped thrusting. His thick rod stretched her membranes taut.

He came inside her. His cum spurted deep in her guts, a still powerful jet of seed which surprised him since he had already cum in thick quantities twice.

The quantity of semen shooting from his stiff cock, together with the excitement of fucking the young teen's ass and breaking her cherry asshole, insured that the orgasm was most intense. In fact, it was the most wrenching orgasm he had yet enjoyed.

Iko passed out at the moment she felt his hot cock spurting ropey jets of semen high up into her vitals, filling her ass.

Ghidrah groaned as his orgasm shook him. Iko's rectal sheath convulsively squeezed down on his cock, milking it dry.

Her ass was tight, creamy, and hot as hell. He let his cock bake in her inner heat while he recovered from the force of his orgasm.

Madame Binta was enveloped in the naked flesh of the thugs who raped her. A hairy brute was feeding his thick red cock into her pussy.

She squealed, her long legs kicking and thrashing until someone took hold of them and pinned them down. Greedy hands groped her bobbing, jiggling breasts.

.Ghidrah finally pulled apart the girl's ass cheeks and drew his hips back, his thick cock throbbing heavily as it glided over her inner membranes.

She groaned when his cock slowly slid out of her. Her groans deepened when he finally drew his cock head out of her ass, stretching her raped hole.

The hole slowly sealed shut, the wrinkled fold's pressing together, glistening with semen, the rosebud quivering and flexing. Ghidrah stepped aside, signaling his trusted lieutenant to take his place.

The cock of his second-in-command was already stiff and jutting when he look down his pants and stood behind Iko.

That poor girl-child was roused from her haze of dazed pain when she felt a hard cock poking and prodding at her pussy.

Ghidrah grinned. He had promised to spare her virginity, but he hadn't mentioned a thing about his men having the same restraint.

He had taken the rose of her of the tormented teen's virgin ass. A generous leader, he now permitted his lieutenant to deflower the girl's precious, virgin pussy.

A thug climbed off Madame Binta when he had finished cumming inside her.

Madame Binta's sensitive pussy lips were red, chafed, and irritated from the abuse of the multiple rapes. Semen was sticky between her legs.

Her bush was damp with sweat and soiled with semen. She moaned dully as hard and hurting hands rolled her over on her belly.

Her protests were silenced with pain, pain which made her cry out. A hulking brute squatted down between her spread thighs.

Her ass was high, round, lush and plump. He rubbed his cock on it, stiffening the rod to red-hot hardness before he opened her moist ass cheeks.

He greased her ass with a fingerful of semen which he scooped from her raped pussy and smeared it into the brown dot of her anus.

Cries and whimpers of pain and shame were forced out of her as the man's cock was planted between her buttocks and pressed to her asshole.

Imitating his master Ghidrah, the brute stuffed his cock inside the ass of the abused young beauty, rousing her from her dazed confusion.

Madame Binta's gasping groans were shrilly drowned out by the single piercing shriek of young Iko when her pussy was penetrated.

Her rapist's cock battered aside the tender tissues of her maidenhead, shredding and sundering it, shoving deep into her no-longer-virgin pussy.

Rape, mixed with revenge as Ghidrah's followers raped the mother and daughter, and tortured the father.

The police were waiting for them.

Only the fact that there was a war on where all able-bodied men would be needed, spared Ghidrah and his fellows from execution.

This, then, was Ghidrah - the sex and rape raider who would soon be brought to Sister Bridget.

CHAPTER THREE

Ghidrah was held in a not unpleasant cell in an aboveground section of the island fortress, a section occupied by others of his criminal type, and worse.

His status was strange. He was a prisoner and yet this was like no prison that he had ever known. Ghidrah as yet had no idea of the bizarre series of experiments being conducted by Dr. Serizawa, experiments which grew steadily more and more perverse.

Ghidrah was escorted from his cell by guards down a long passageway which led into a small white-walled room where Nurse Michi waited.

She told the guards; “Leave us.”

“But this one is dangerous…” one of the guards began, pointing at Ghidrah.

“You dare presume to advise me?! Get out, you fool!”

The guards beat a hasty retreat. Ghidrah grinned. Nurse Michi commanded; “Wipe that smirk off your face. This is no laughing matter.”

Ghidrah kept a straight face. This nurse was well built, lustily padded in all the right places, but she was a cold-blooded bitch, no doubt about that.

Nurse Michi said; “Take off your clothes.”

Ghidrah stared at her, then reached to embrace her. “You're a forward one! I like a bit of kissing to get me warmed up first.”

His hands held her hips, which were warm even through her stiff white uniform. Frowning with annoyance, Nurse Michi took his hands off her.

“Restrain yourself!” she said sharply, breathing deeply.

Ghidrah scowled at her. “You play a strange game. You tell me to take off my clothes, but you won't let me kiss you!”

“You misunderstand me. When I ordered you to disrobe, it was not a proposition. You are needed for an important experiment.”

Ghidrah looked at her with narrow-eyed suspicion. “Experiment?! I don't think I like the sound of that! What are you about?!”

Nurse Michi informed him what he would be required to do for his part in the experiment. Ghidrah grinned broadly when he heard the details.

“That's what you want me for?!” He said happily. “I assure you that I'm your man. I will not disappoint you, I promise you that!”

“We shall see, we shall see,” Nurse Michi said neutrally.

Ghidrah, not in the least self-conscious, stripped. He pulled off his shirt, revealing a caveman physique, with a bull neck, wide shoulders, thick arms, and a muscled chest.

Black hair, thick and full, covered his back, shoulders, arms, and belly. He kicked off his sandals; his big feet had cracked dirty nails.

He took down his pants. His cock and balls bulged in his shorts. He knew that Nurse Michi was examining him, so he gave her a better look.

He took off the shorts, and then he was naked. His pubic bush was a jet black pelt, covering a thick limp cock and a heavy pair of balls.

“The doctor will see you in a moment,” Nurse Michi said.

Dr. Serizawa had Ghidrah brought to him. The prisoner entered with Nurse Michi, whose wide lips curved in a smile of sadistic anticipation.

Nurse Michi had a particular hate for nuns. Her Japanese parents were Catholic converts, and Michi as a child had been subjected to the arrogant rule of repressed nuns, foreign, non-Japanese, no less.

The stern nuns were quick to punish, quick to hit, with their hard hurting hands and their metal-edged rulers.

Young Michi had been aware of the aching loss of face involved in having herself beaten by foreign devils.

She developed a lifelong hatred for Caucasians in general and nuns and priest in particular. It was a supreme pleasure for her to be able to even up the score by inflicting her own brand of punishment and pain on those nuns who fell into her hands.

Dr. Serizawa appraised Ghidrah as he was brought in. Ghidrah was a brute and a sadist, an example of superb organic fitness.

Ghidrah was aggressive and violent, with a crazed sex drive. Serizawa had scoured and searched the prisons and the mental hospitals of Japan for men like Ghidrah, sex maniacs and rape raiders that he could use in his latest experiments.

Serizawa's project was backed at the highest levels of the Imperial government, and he had been able to procure a group of sex fiends having their custody transferred from the prisons to his care.

His fortress island, isolated by the turbulent sea, was escape-proof; and a large garrison of guards maintained security and discipline.

Ghidrah padded barefoot into the circular chamber, his dangling cock bobbing, his long arms swinging at his sides.

He was naked and as unashamed as an ape in a cage. Glancing up, he saw Minister Tono staring down from the gallery.

Ghidrah's attention was caught by the naked nun bound and gagged on the table.

Staring at her, his eyes raped her.

Sister Bridget did not speak the language but all she had to do was see the naked, brutish male hulking over her.

Ghidrah's cock jerked and quivered. He saw her heavy breasts, her fat nipples, wide hips, her jet black bush, her thick and fleshy pussy lips.

She was bound and gagged and her legs were tied and spread so that she was ready for him. It seemed too good to be true.

“How are you feeling today, my good fellow?” Serizawa inquired. “I know that we can count on you to play the man's part here today.”

“I'll do my best, Doctor,” Ghidrah said.

“You should find the woman not unattractive. There she is, Ghidrah, ready and waiting for you. Take her. Take her as often as you can. One thing only, Ghidrah… Do no real damage to her. We need her. But don't worry, you won't have to be gentle with her.”

Dr. Serizawa clapped the naked thug on his bare shoulder, feeling the slab-like muscles which rolled and flexed.

“Go ahead and do your duty, Ghidrah, that's a good fellow.”

Ghidrah went to the examining table. He reached out, touching Sister Bridget's bare breasts. She howled through her gag with outrage.

Ghidrah had felt like he was in a dream. The combination of elements in the scene, the clinically dressed doctor and nurse, the white-walled circular chamber, the naked voluptuous female strapped down to the table, his own nakedness - all of these had combined to give Ghidrah an uncommon sense of unreality.

But Sister Bridget's sexual terror brought Ghidrah back to the reality of the flesh.

Bridget's flesh was warm and creamy white, smooth and soft. Her breasts jiggled and rippled as his touch grew bolder and more demanding.

Smiling with pleasure, with dominant pleasure, Ghidrah felt and fondled her breasts, squeezing the melons of flesh, kneading them.

His thick stubby fingers slid over her soft flesh. Sister Bridget twisted, writhing in her bonds, her face a mask of horror.

Ghidrah's roaming hands moved down to her belly. His hands trembled with lust. It had been months since he had last had a woman.

Her legs were tied and spread. He rubbed her soft, smooth, inner thighs, then touched her pussy. The nun's pussy lips quivered when he poked and prodded them.

His cock jerked and jumped. He gripped his thick, jerking rod and laid it across her warm thigh, the hefty member growing when it made contact.

Sister Bridget gurgled with horror as the stiff penis rubbed her flesh. Fires of lust burned in Ghidrah's groin and belly.

He moved back up to her breasts. Leaning over her, he rubbed his erection against her bosom. He took hold of her fat nipples and pinched them stiff and throbbing.

He held her breasts together and put his hard cock between them. Rocking his hips, he heated his member against her soft bosom flesh.

Sister Bridget groaned in disgust and revulsion, her face deathly pale.

“As you can readily observe, the captive is reluctant to submit to the embraces of our stud male,” Dr. Serizawa observed dryly to Nurse Michi and the Minister.

“It is only the bonds which open her to his love,” Serizawa continued. “You may think of this as a trial demonstration.”

Nurse Michi said to Ghidrah; “Well, go on, what are you waiting for?”

Ghidrah gripped his stiff cock and shook it at her. “I'm not waiting for anything. I'm ready, as you and she can plainly see.”

“Then go ahead and do your job.”

“With pleasure.”

Ghidrah padded to the foot of the table and climbed on top. Sister Bridget thrashed against her bonds, so that the surgical tape grooved deeply into her ankles.

She was unable to snap the tape and so free herself. The canvas strap which stretched across her belly, pinned her down on the table.

Ghidrah covered her creamy soft body, stretching his hairy muscular apelike figure over hers. His stiff member throbbed hotly.

His cock brushed her smooth inner thighs. Raising himself up on his forearms, he gripped his cock and rubbed its head against her pussy.

Her thick pussy lips rippled when his cock head rolled over them. The nun's labia were soft and fleshy. His cock head was wide and swollen.

He held his cock below the rim of the head and pressed the tip to her slit. He pried open her pussy lips with his cock head, exposing her pink inner membranes.

Sister Bridget squeezed her eyes shut. She tried to pray, to put her mind somewhere else, anywhere else to escape this sordid, shameful reality.

The cock battered at her tight pussy, the pussy which had been closed to all things sexual for close to twenty years.

The cock head stretched her membranes. Sweat broke out on her face. She moaned from deep in her belly. The tips of her nipples were stiff and hard.

Ghidrah could not restrain his impetuous desires. His cock screamed to have its full heated length planted in her pussy.

When his cock was in her, he gripped her wide quivering hips and lunged forward, stabbing her with his cock, corkscrewing his way inside her.

Each inch that his cock forced its way inside her, was bought at the expense of pain for the naked nun. The brute's cock was truly immense.

Ghidrah grunted like a caveman with a piece of fresh meat. He pushed deep and entered the nun with one swift surging stroke.

The gag could hardly muffle Sister Bridget's shrill cry of pain.

Ghidrah sighed with pleasure as his cock was baked in seething pussy heat. His cock filled her to the depths of her tight, hot pit.

Her pussy lips were spread and split, the fleshy labia rolled back on themselves. He was in her deep, so that her pussy lips circled the base of his shaft.

He started thrusting with violent strokes. She grunted and groaned with each thrust that forced its way deep inside her.

He ground his cock and his hips into her. Soon her hip bones were scraped and sore, while her pussy lips were chafed and irritated from the friction.

His hips slammed into her. Her lush breasts were pressed under his hard hairy chest, her stiff nipples scraped sore by his bristling chest hair.

His leering lustful face was close to her white, sweating, horrified face. His belly slapped hers with each hard-driving stroke which he shoved into her.

He was hardly able to restrain himself. After going for so long without a woman, he came after fucking Bridget for a relatively short time.

He pumped his mighty cock into her until his member reached the melting point.

He plunged his cock into the depths of her pussy and kept it there. His penis stretched the sensitive sore membranes.

His cock swelled up inside her just as he came. Semen was squeezed out of him. It rose from his swollen balls up the column of his cock.

He came in thick wet gushing masses, filling Sister Bridget to the brim of her pussy with his spurting cream.

She sobbed and moaned. He sobbed for breath, sucking for air. He shook from the strength of his orgasm, then collapsed on top of the naked nun.

His cock twitched and quivered against the sleek membranes surrounding it. Sister Bridget's shoulders shook from soft sobbing.

After a moment, Dr. Serizawa said; “That's enough, Ghidrah. Get off her.”

Ghidrah roused himself from a heated daze of sexual satisfaction. It was a shame to have to take his member from the hot satiny tightness of the nun's pussy, but an order was an order, and Ghidrah was bound to obey.

His cock throbbed heavily when he drew it out of her pussy, sliding the stiff shaft over the membranes, his knobbed cock head pushing open her pussy lips.

His cum smeared on her labia. Droplets fell on her dark, sweat-damp bush.

Ghidrah was still hard when he swung his feet down on the floor and stood up. He gripped his cock, which was sticky and shining with semen.

Clearly he hoped that the experiment was not yet over, and that he would have the chance of taking a return bout with the bound woman.

In this expectation he was disappointed, at least temporarily.

“Thank you for your services,” Serizawa said coolly. “Nurse Michi will take you back to your room. You will wait there.”

Ghidrah bowed politely. He wondered if he should bow to the man on the gallery, too, but he decided against it. The stranger might think it presumptuous of a convict to call attention to himself by bowing.

Nurse Michi escorted Ghidrah back into the small room of the cell. “Sit here and rest. Don't leave. We'll call you if and when we need you.”

Ghidrah squeezed his cock. “I don't need a rest, as you can plainly see. In fact. I'm more than ready for some more loving.”

He looked at her. “Actually, you're more my kind of woman. If you ever tried me, you wouldn't need to be tied down, like that one in there was. They'd have to tie you down to keep you from coming back for more of the same!”

“Hold a pretty high opinion of yourself, don't you?” Nurse Michi sneered. “Well, you just stay here like a good boy and keep out of trouble!”

She paused at the door. “And don't play with yourself, either!”

“With women like you around, I wouldn't waste it on my hand!”

Back in the circular chamber, Dr. Serizawa filled a hypodermic syringe with a clear, colorless, drug, drawn from a small glass vial.

A single drop of solution clung to the needle tip.

Addressing his remarks to Minister Tono, he said; “This syringe contains a dosage of my specially developed personality-altering drug.”

“I call it `Adaptamine,'” Serizawa said, a note of pride ringing in his voice. “Due to the marvelous personality adaptations and transformations it produces.”

Minister Tono broke his long silence. “Yes, Doctor, yes. We of the Council have great hopes in the promise of your compounded extract. I am most eager to see it in operation!” Tono stirred restlessly, his eyes glittering.

He still sat. Between his legs, a tent-like bulge showed in the crotch of his carefully tailored trousers, a thick and throbbing bulge.

Tono was something of a voyeur, and his senses were stimulated and his penis stiffened by the exciting show of watching Ghidrah rape the naked nun.

That Ghidrah was a most impressively endowed young man, with an awesome member and the lustful vigor to work it well and use it the way it should be used.

Down below, Dr. Serizawa swabbed the inside of Sister Bridget's left elbow with antiseptic, then injected the drug into her veins.

Sister Bridget, not understanding the Japanese language in which Serizawa and Tono had conversed, had no idea what was in the hypodermic needle.

She feared that it was some deadly poison or horrible bacterial infection. She seemed as though she might literally die of fright when the compound was injected.

The rushing drug took effect almost immediately. Hot and cold chills ran through her. Muscles slid and flexed under her smooth, soft, skin.

Her vision went in and out of focus, her eyesight blurring, her pupils expanding and contracting. Heat rose to the surface of her skin.

Internal fire seethed inside her, as though she had gulped potent brandy. She felt lightheaded, intoxicated, unbalanced and giddy.

She was quite warm, feverish. Her flesh burned and tingled. Intense sensations shot through her. The tips of her nipples were stiff and aching.

Her nipples were so stiff and sore that they hurt. They seemed as large as thimbles, thimbles of pink flesh which pulsed painfully.

The throbbing of her nipples seemed almost as loud and strong as the beating of her heart. But her maddened fear was already fading.

It was hard for her to hold a coherent train of thought. Emotion and sensation were overpowering her reason - what devilish drug was this.

Red spots of color rose in her cheeks. Sweat shone on her face. A pink rosy flush spread over the tops of her breasts and her belly.

Her pussy lips felt incredibly hot and sensitive. They itched maddeningly. A warm, oozing, wetness crept down the walls of her pussy.

Dr. Serizawa ordered that the prisoner named Baruda be summoned to the chamber.

In the five minutes that passed while waiting for the arrival of Baruda, a strange transformation overcame Sister Bridget.

She was extraordinarily aware of her body, of her flexing muscles and tendons, of her smooth soft flesh, so sensitive to pain or pleasure.

The itch in her genitals and the throbbing of her nipples maddened her. She grunted in an animalistic manner, which would have astounded and dismayed any of those sisters who had known her as a dignified and reserved nun.

Bridget's lush breasts jiggled as she twisted on the table. Her body seemed loose and lithe, and she swayed her hips from side to side with impatient, eager, lust.

Baruda was brought forth from one of the small waiting rooms outside the white circular chamber. He was a tall abstracted youth with dreamy eyes and a loose smile.

Like Ghidrah had been, Baruda was stark naked.

Ghidrah came from the commonest of origins, from the poorest of the peasants. By contrast, Baruda came from a wealthy and prosperous family.

He was in his early twenties, clean-shaven, with fine aristocratic features. His face was round and soft and glowing.

He was slender and wiry, virtually hairless. But his genitals were oversized, with a penis which, even in its limp state, measured close to eight inches.

Baruda moved with slow steps, his eyes softly out of focus. He wore glasses which he had left behind in the other room with his clothes.

Nurse Michi held his arm and guided him to the table where Sister Bridget lay. His cock, dangling heavily, waved from side to side.

The stone-faced nurse betrayed a hot flicker of interest in the lustful glances she cast down between the legs of the comely youth.

Baruda had always been a strange one, a seemingly mild and well mannered youth, who's overpowering sex drive, was the despair of his aristocratic family.

When still a child, he had been initiated into sex play by a sadistic aunt. When the boy reached puberty, the decadent aunt supplied him with slave girls.

This was not enough for Baruda, whose lust was unbounded. He was not content with geishas, whores, or mistresses.

He took special pleasure in corrupting innocent young females - schoolgirls, newly married wives, maidservants, and the like.

His embarrassed family had used sizable bribes to save him from criminal prosecution by the families of the young girls he had outraged.

But he went too far when he assaulted one of his own family.

All the family, aunts and uncles and cousins and the like, had gathered at the palatial home of Baruda's parents for a joyous holiday feast.

The seemingly shy, soft-spoken youth's attention was attracted and excited by his lovely cousin, a girl of the tenderest teen years.

She wore the traditional kimono, as did the rest of the family on this celebration day. Kyo was the girl's name.

She was slim and slender, more of a girl than a woman, barely nubile. Yet there were charming bumps for her bosom, and her rounded bottom had ripely rounded curves.

Crafty Baruda had plied the girl with plenty of hot sake and plum wine. Her face was bright and flushed with hot color from the drinks.

While the merriment roared on, Baruda led his young cousin from the feasting hall, down the dark corridors of the sprawling castle.

He took her to a deserted room. It had served as servant's quarters, but was presently disused. Baruda took the girl in the room.

It was dark and dim and dusty, the sole illumination provided by the little lantern which Baruda had taken down from the wall and used to light the way.

He took his cousin's small hand, which was warm and sweaty against his own.

When they were in the room, he pulled the girl down on his lap. Her little bottom pressed his groin, her body heat flowing through her garments and his own.

She was more than a bit drunk from the many glasses of potent plum wine he had plied her with. She giggled, resting her heavy head on his shoulder.

He whispered that she was his favorite, and kissed her on the mouth. Her lips were warm, wide, full, pliant, and sticky with plum wine and sake.

Her mouth was sweet and spicy when he kissed her. He rubbed her tongue with his own, dipping it deep in her mouth, tasting the sweetness of her.

He licked and rubbed her tongue. She squirmed on his lap, pressing her ripe buttocks against his groin. His penis and balls stirred and tingled.

His cock rubbed her ass as it stiffened and grew into a thick erection. She felt the hot throbbing hardness of it against her rear.

She giggled and asked him what it was. He took her small soft hand and held it pressed to the bulge formed by his cock and balls.

He pawed her small budding breasts. He slipped his hand inside her kimono and felt the satiny softness of her warm smooth skin.

She was frightened by how far she had gone, and insisted that she wanted to leave. Baruda was too inflamed to listen to her.

He wrestled her down on the mat covering the floor. She was scared now. Tears brimmed from her eyes as she softly pleaded with him to let her go.

If he would only release her, she wouldn't tell anyone what they had done.

Baruda just laughed and said that when he was done with her, she wouldn't dare tell anyone anyway. She couldn't get him hot like this and think that she could escape paying the price. He pushed her down on her back.

He pulled open her kimono. Her breasts were tender mounds of flesh with tiny brown nipples. He covered her mouth with his hand.

Her outcries were muffled against his palm. His other hand made free with her small breasts, feeling and fondling them, toying with the nipples.

She sobbed like a little girl when he hiked up the hem of her kimono to her thin waist.

He pulled down her fancy undergarments, tugging them down her thin thighs and her calves, so that they clung to one of her feet.

She was in her early teens, and he was a good ten years older, so he was easily able to control her. She was helpless as a child in his hands.

Her hips were thin with jutting hipbones. Her little pussy was lightly bushed with the softest and silkiest little brown fleece.

Her pussy was a thin-lipped, delicate pink slit, a narrow cleft between her legs. She sobbed when he fingered and fondled it.

He put his middle finger inside her. Her tight pussy pressed the penetrating digit. His fingertip bumped the tender barrier of her maidenhead.

He knew that he was going too far, that she was a virgin, but now that he had reached this point his furious passions would not permit him to stop.

His hard cock cried out for insertion. He smeared his saliva on her quivering slit. He gripped his cock and pressed its head against her pussy.

He pried open her pussy lips with his cock-head. He covered her mouth with his hand while he stuffed his cock-head inside her.

He pushed into the moaning girl until the head of the cock bumped her maidenhead. He clenched his buttocks and thrust his cock savagely into her.

His member tore aside the shreds of her virginity. Her body was tight and rigid under his as his cock plunged deep into her tender pussy.

He raped her like an animal in heat, grunting as he thrust and pumped his swollen penis in her pussy until he filled her with his cum.

Just as he climaxed, the door was thrown open by drunken merrymakers who gasped in shocked outrage when they discovered Baruda cumming in his young cousin's pussy.

“Take my load, you bitch,” he gasped.

His cock throbbed as he erupted his load of hot white cream into her ravaged slit.

CHAPTER FOUR

Baruda confronted a vastly different Sister Bridget than the woman whom Ghidrah had raped. Serizawa's drug had altered her.

Serizawa wielded a gleaming razor-sharp scalpel, slicing open the bonds of white surgical tape which bound Sister Bridget's wrists.

Serizawa was a neat and orderly fellow. He pulled the severed strands of tape from her red wrists, which were chafed and irritated.

He disposed of the tape strips in a metal trash bucket under the examining table. He then cut her ankles free from the metal stirrups.

After disposing of the tape litter, he set aside the scalpel and unbuckled the canvas restraining strap which pinned Bridget to the table.

“Dr. Serizawa, is this wise?” Concern showed on the face of Minister Tono, who leaned over the guard rail. “Is it safe to release the prisoner from her restraints?”

“Quite safe,” Serizawa chuckled. “I assure you, Minister, the only one of us who is in danger is the naked young man who must satisfy her!”

The canvas restraining straps came free from Bridget's flesh. She was Bridget now, just plain Bridget, no longer Sister Bridget, the devout nun.

Wonder, not fear, showed on her face, wonder and… lust.

She sat up, uncoiling like a female snake, moving slowly and sensually with a seductive litheness which had been totally absent in her before the injection of the drug. Her flesh was warm and glowy, with a rosy blush coloring the white flesh.

Bridget lifted her arms over her head and luxuriously stretched.

Her heavy breasts lifted and arched, her nipples stiff and throbbing. Her plump buttocks pressed the white rubber sheet covering the table.

She sat up straight, her legs folded. Dr. Serizawa reached to remove her gag. She was as docile and quiet as a doe.

He pulled the strip of tape off her mouth. She flinched from the sudden pain, grunting in her belly. He reached in her mouth and pulled out the gag.

The wadded ball of cotton gauze which had gagged her was soaked and saturated with her saliva. Serizawa fastidiously dropped it in the trash basket.

Bridget moaned, working her jaws from side to side to work some of the stiffness out of them. Her tongue was heavy and solid in her mouth.

She licked her lips, gliding her broad pink tongue with its blunt tip over them, moistening them with saliva so that they glimmered.

It was a frankly seductive, gesture. Bridget batted her eye lashes and cooed at Dr. Serizawa. She rested her hands on his shoulders.

A loose smile showed on her red face as she kneaded his muscles through his white medical tunic. She ran her hand down his front.

Serizawa smiled and slipped free from her grasp. She pouted with disappointment.

Bridget discovered her breasts. She cupped them, resting one in each palm, weighing them, the soft bosom flesh oozing off the edges of her hand.

She pulled them apart and pushed them together, plumping them up. She took her nipple between thumb and forefinger and rolled it, oohing and aahing.

Her eyes swam dizzily when she looked past Serizawa and saw Baruda. For his part, he stared in open amazement, his lust forgotten in his wonder.

Serizawa ordered Nurse Michi to restrain Bridget for a moment.

Michi gripped Bridget's bare shoulders and held her in place, seated on the examining table. Bridget whimpered with hungry wanting.

Bridget rubbed up against the Oriental nurse. She put her hand on Nurse Michi's bosom, feeling and fondling the oversized mounds of her breasts.

Nurse Michi took the nun's hands off her breasts and placed them firmly at Bridget's sides. Bridget stuck out her tongue and licked the nurse's hand.

Baruda watched the scene with dreamy wonder. Fate had taken him far from his home, to this prison island so far remote from real civilization.

Baruda had barely escaped the wrath of his outraged relatives, but he had been unable to escape confinement in a private mental hospital.

They said that he was being kept there for his own good. He had hated it. Most of the nurses were male, and what few females were on the premises were all old and ugly, and careful not to be alone with him.

But Dr. Serizawa had selected him from among the many inmates of the hospital, and transported him here to this island.

Bridget, frustrated in her attempts to fondle Nurse Michi's big breasts, parted her plump thighs and put her hand on her own pussy.

She touched herself. Her pussy lips itched with a prickling sexual heat, while her inner depths were even more tormented with hungry wanting.

Touching her pussy was like scratching the itch. Her fingertips rolled over her fat, fleshy, pussy lips, making the folds of flesh ripple.

She was incredibly wet inside her pussy.

As she fingered herself, her fingers split and spread her pussy lips. She was still wet with the cum which Ghidrah had deposited in her pussy.

But his semen alone couldn't account for the hot seething wetness in her pussy. Her juices flowed, oozing from the pores of her pink membranes.

Dr. Serizawa beckoned Baruda to The table - and the woman.

“Come on, my boy, don't be bashful! Now's the chance to show your stuff, to show us what you can do! Take her and show her what a man you are!”

Baruda was wary as he padded barefoot to the table. His cock was limp, thick, and swinging. Bridget gurgled lustfully when she saw it.

She hopped down from the table, her breasts bouncing. “Let her go, nurse,” Serizawa said. Nurse Michi stepped aside, watching with hot interest.

Bridget went to Baruda, her wide hips swaying from side to side, her plump buttocks rolling. She pressed her front against his naked front.

Baruda recovered from his astonishment. Lust for flesh was strong in him. Bridget wrapped her arms around him and rubbed her hips against his groin.

Fire seethed in his penis. Veins throbbed as the shaft stiffened in spasmodic jumps. It did not get any longer, but instead became rigid as bone.

Bridget stepped back to examine his member, which stood out straight from his lean hips. Nurse Michi lifted an eyebrow in silent admiration.

Bridget was openly admiring. She took hold of his cock in both hands. It was hot against her fingers, which pulled and kneaded the rod of flesh.

She fingered his swollen balls. They were tight in the sac. Baruda reached behind her and took hold of her buttocks, cupping them, one in each hand.

She ran her fingers through his hair, then pulled his face down to her bosom.

He nuzzled her breasts. The expression of a sex-crazed fanatic was carved into his face. He covered her quivering breasts with hot wet kisses.

She was pulling him, rubbing him, guiding him to the table. She hurried him to it, her hands insistent on his shoulders, pushing him down.

Baruda got on the table. Bridget pushed him down on his back and crawled up on top of him, crouching on hands and knees.

Her heavy breasts dangled over his heated face. She let her breasts fall on his face. Swaying her upper body from side to side, she slapped his face with her breasts.

He pawed and pulled her breasts. His lips closed around a swollen nipple, sucking it up into his mouth. He chewed and nibbled the swollen point of flesh.

Bridget groaned with urgent lust. She squatted over his groin, her crotch poised over his swollen genitals, her folded legs straddling his thighs.

She took hold of his cock and massaged its swollen head up and down her pussy lips, pressing the tip against the slit of her sex.

She stuffed the cock head up inside her. It was fatter than Ghidrah's cock had been. Ecstasy showed on her face as the cock head filled her.

Sister Bridget, her vows of chastity dissolved by the drug of Dr. Serizawa, lowered herself down on Baruda's stiffly swollen cock.

She sat on the member, taking it up inside her, her taut polished thighs pressing his lean hips as her pussy swallowed up his shaft.

Her fleshy pussy lips pressed the base of his shaft. She leaned forward, taking his rod even deeper. She rocked, riding his cock.

All the soft masses of her flesh - her breasts, belly, and buttocks - jiggled wildly as she galloped on Baruda, riding his member to ecstasy.

She was compulsive, obsessed, possessed by lust. She thrust her hips, grinding her pussy into him, grunting and groaning as she rode him.

Baruda reached behind her and gripped her buttocks, his long thin fingers sinking deep into her smooth soft bottom flesh.

He guided her, pushing and pulling her. He moved under her, his buttocks tight, his hips rocking, his cock hard and thrusting savagely.

The table shook on its frame from the violence of their sexual intercourse. Bridget grunted, moaned, and cried like an animal in heat.

Baruda's cock was a red rod pumping deep in her pussy. When she lifted up, his scarlet shaft swung into view under her ripe buttocks.

She rocked faster and faster until she climaxed. She squealed and screeched, whipping her head from side to side, her breasts bobbing.

Her folded thighs pressed his hips with a grip like a vise. Internally, her membranes pressed on his cumming cock, clamping down on it,

Baruda's cock was holstered deep in her pussy flesh. His orgasm was violent and wrenching, tearing cries out of him.

Bridget sobbed for breath, her pussy squeezing the cock and milking the last drops of cum from it. His semen had filled her to the brim.

Her head sagged on her chest. Her breasts bobbed as she gasped for breath. She moaned as she rubbed against him.

Dr. Serizawa said; “Our friend Ghidrah should be ready for a return engagement.”

Nurse Michi fetched Ghidrah, who waited in a small room identical to the one where Baruda had been taken.

“I knew that you'd be back, beautiful,” Ghidrah began.

“Save that sugar for the woman in there,” Nurse Michi said. “It's time for you to strut your stuff again, big fellow!”

“With the same one?! Lord - doesn't she ever tire of it?!”

Nurse Michi conducted Ghidrah back into the circular room. Idly looking up, Ghidrah saw that Tono was still there. The minister was leaning so far over the guard rail that he seemed in danger of tumbling over it.

Ghidrah scanned Baruda with guarded interest, knowing him for a fellow prisoner, but knowing about him beyond that.

Baruda was standing by the examining table, clutching it for support. His eyes glittered in a tight and sweating face.

Bridget was on her knees at Baruda's feet. His stiff penis, sticky with his cum and the secretions of her pussy, was inserted in her mouth.

The sister sucked the sex criminal. Her lips, wet with saliva and semen, were stretched at their corners by the width of his cock.

He held her head, which bobbed back and forth, pulling her hot, wet mouth up and down on his fleshy pole.

She gobbled greedily at the stiff member, molding her mouth around it, sucking heat into it, caressing its quivering underside with her velvet tongue.

Ghidrah's jaws dropped and his mouth gaped open in amazement. Could the woman who was so hungrily sucking a stiff cock be the same terrified victim he had raped earlier?

Such a profound sexual transformation - from degraded rape victim to wanton nymph— seemed difficult if not impossible to believe.

Yet there was the evidence right in front of Ghidrah's own eyes, as Bridget sucked and slurped at the cock with wild enthusiasm.

Saliva spilled from the stretched corners of her mouth, wetting her chin. Baruda held her head in his hands, pushing it back and forth.

When she bobbed her head back, only his knobbed cock head was held between her lips. She sucked and slurped the cock head until he could stand it no longer.

Then he would pull her back to him, her lips gliding their velvety caresses up and down his swollen rod of flesh.

Confusion showed on Ghidrah's face as he watched the scene of surprising lust.

Was it possible that the woman had been faking her terror when he had taken his turn on her? That seemed hard to believe.

He was sure that he could tell genuine fear from an imitation of the real thing. He had put enough fear in his numerous victims to know the difference.

It was possible that the man whose cock she sucked was her beloved - possible, but hardly probable, since realistically, Ghidrah doubted that romance could develop between a captive white female and a Japanese sex criminal imprisoned on this island.

There was also a chance that Baruda was such a skilled lover that he had brought Bridget such mind-shattering ecstasy that she was now his devoted sexual slave.

Ghidrah's vanity would not permit him to believe that last reason. He doubted that any man could be that much better a cocksman than himself.

He reminded himself that this Dr. Serizawa was a strange one, a kind of wizard who experimented in murky and mysterious matters.

Dr. Serizawa said; “As you can see, Ghidrah, the woman is too much for any one man to satisfy. So you must help to gratify her passions.”

Ghidrah stepped forward. Almost more than lust, he was determined to prove that this Baruda was no more of a man than he.

Bridget was down on her knees. Ghidrah knelt behind her, his stiff cock rising up to stand out strong and tall and jutting from his hips.

His stiff cock rubbed against Bridget. Still keeping Baruda's stiff cock lodged firmly between her lips, she saw Ghidrah out of the corner of her eye.

She murmured with lust. Her murmurs ripped up the shaft of the cock which filled her mouth, the humming vibrations making Baruda's balls tingle.

Bridget knelt up on her bare knees. She changed position, still mouthing his cock, she pressed her palms on the tiled floor and got down on her hands and knees.

She wagged and wiggled her wide bottom invitingly, an invitation which Ghidrah happily accepted as he stood on his knees with his cock level with her crotch.

He pressed his cock against the nun's ripely curved buttocks. His stiff member throbbed as its underside rolled across buttocks as smooth as silk.

Ghidrah guided his cock to her pussy. He rubbed the swollen red cock head up and down her slit, stroking heat into her pussy lips.

His cock was swollen and stiff, demanding it's due. He pressed the cock head to her slit and pushed it inside her pussy hole.

Bridget grasped and groaned as she was penetrated. Ghidrah thrust deep, his cock stretching the tight passage of the pussy that it penetrated.

Bridget was now plugged with stiff cocks at either end.

Baruda's eight-inch cock, red and rock-hard, was lodged deep in her mouth, while Ghidrah swollen cock, wide and fat, stretched her pussy as it fucked it.

Baruda fucked her mouth as though it was her pussy. His hips thrust his rod in and out, back and forth, stroking heat into the shaft.

When he shoved his stiff cock deep into her, the swollen head of it bumped the back of her throat, producing a gag reflex which felt exciting to him.

Ghidrah fucked her hard and fast from behind. His hips slammed her buttocks, rippling the smooth globes of white flesh.

Sucking sounds, loud, wet, noises were caused by the pumping action of his cock in her juicing pussy.

Her stiff-nippled breasts, dangling heavily, were agitated into rippling masses of flesh from the combined force of the twin fucking.

Baruda came first - her mouth boiled his cock to the melting point.

His cock twitched on her tongue. He pushed deeper into her mouth, shoving the knobbed cock head deep into her throat just as he came.

Semen jetted from the swollen cock head, splashing down her throat. It came in thick, liquid gushes, spurting and spewing, sliding forcefully down her gullet.

She had to swallow it or choke on it. She swallowed it greedily, her mouth molded around the cock, milking it, her throat flexing on it.

Semen slid down her open throat. Her nostrils pressed against the sweat-damp pubic bush of thick black fur which surrounded Baruda's cock and balls.

While Baruda came in her mouth, her pussy was heated to a feverish blaze by the relentless swift strokes of Ghidrah's swollen cock.

His orgasm came only a moment after Baruda's.

CHAPTER FIVE

Nurse Michi taunted her two captives.

She hissed; “You should find this to be both amusing and instructive!”

The other two nuns, Anne and Miriam, exchanged unhappy glances.

Both young sisters were partially stripped. They were allowed to wear the somber black hoods from their nun's habits.

The black hoods covered their hair and scalp, leaving their faces uncovered. Their faces were pale white ovals, frozen with fear.

The nuns had also been permitted to wear the crosses which normally hung around their necks over their habits. But Sister Anne and Sister Miriam were naked from the waist up.

They had been dressed in the hoods and crosses of their holy religious order so that they might be further humiliated and degraded.

Once, they had been chaste and virginal brides of Christ.

That knowledge - the knowledge of their pure and devout past lives, before they had been captured by their conquerors - increased their present torment.

Their habits had been stripped from them. Both females were protected from nudity only by the plain, antique white bloomers which covered them from waists to knees.

These style of bloomers were the standard issue of female undergarments for the nuns of their religious order.

Both nuns were in bondage.

Sister Miriam's arms stretched out from her sides in a crucified position. A bamboo pole, three feet long, and thick, stretched across her neck and shoulders.

Thin rawhide thongs, tightly tied, secured her thin wrists to the ends of the bamboo pole, holding her arms out horizontally from her sides.

Additionally, a rope hobble, some eighteen inches long, was tied to her ankles, limiting her movements and causing her to take small mincing steps.

Sister Miriam was shocked by her own nakedness. So far, despite the horrors of conquest, the sanctity of her chastity had been respected.

She had seen brutal rapes which had chilled her blood and stopped the silent prayers in her throat, but she had been spared from sexual abuse.

Now, her short-lived period of immunity from torment and degradation was over, and her new existence as a punished prisoner began in earnest.

Miriam's eyes burned with hot, bitter tears. They spilled down her cheeks, cheeks which were still soft and smooth with babyfat.

Her pouting lower lip quivered, and her chin trembled from the futile effort of holding back her sobs. She was too frightened to even pray any more.

Her breasts were bare, bare and beautiful. They were high and firm and shaped like ripe, pears. Her nipples were the size of quarters.

The stiff nipples were fat buttons of shockingly pink flesh which looked achingly vulnerable. Her breasts shook with her sobbing.

The bloomers clung to her wide hips. They were designed to be loose in the crotch, so that the nun might not suffer impure excitement by having the fabric press arousingly against her pussy. Sister Miriam was weak in the knees.

Sister Anne, who followed behind her, was similarly bound with her arms tied in the cruciform position to a bamboo rod.

Nurse Michi had gone for the two nuns while Sister Bridget writhed on her hands and knees on the floor of the circular white room with a pair of stiff cocks filling and fucking her hot holes.

Nurse Michi resented having to leave the show to attend to her official duties, so she amused herself by completely humiliating the other two nuns.

Neither Sister Anne nor Miriam had - voluntarily undressed when Nurse Michi commanded that they do so. The soldiers had to force them.

The sobbing sisters were partially stripped, and then bound. The soldiers were eager to tear the bloomers off the nuns, and totally denude them.

They had done that earlier to Sister Bridget, but Nurse Michi disappointed their lustful hopes of being permitted to strip these other two sisters naked.

When the female captives were properly undressed and tightly bound, Nurse Michi escorted them from their cell to the circular room.

Sister Anne's thin, sharp-featured face, was taut and haggard with terror. Anxiously she chewed her lower lip until it bled in her mouth.

Nurse Michi unlocked and opened a panel in the wall, sliding it back on rollers. The door opened on to the gallery which overlooked the floor of the circular chamber.

“In there,” Nurse Michi coldly commanded the captives.

The bound nuns had to enter sideways, since the bamboo poles which bound their arms out from their sides were too long to fit lengthwise through the door opening.

The captives emerged on a section of balcony opposite from the wall where a sweating, hard-breathing, and aroused Minister Tono sat.

Tono's eyes were wide and avidly taking in the action on the floor below.

Tono's arm and hand were flexing. Sister Anne gazed at him to see what he was doing. She saw that he rubbed himself between his legs.

Even from the other side of the chamber, Sister Anne saw the thick and bulging erection which sprouted in the crotch of Tono's trousers.

His right hand was between his spread thighs, pulling and kneading and squeezing his swollen cock through his trousers.

Sister Anne's face burned with shame, and flushed with red color.

Seeing a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, or perhaps hearing Sister Anne's shocked gasp, Minister Tono looked up.

His eyes were glazed and wild in his hot face. He stared hotly at the pair of nuns, his hungry eyes taking in the loveliness of their bare white breasts.

Anne blushed and looked away. Tono continued staring, making Anne feel fear.

Moans and breathless panting gasps came from below. Miriam peered curiously over the edge of the guardrail to see what caused the curious noises.

Her shocked cry echoed loudly through the chamber.

Minister Tono grunted with amusement, while Nurse Michi smirked with satisfaction at the look of shocked horror showing on the faces of the nun.

Down below, Sister Bridget was being fucked lustily by two naked Japanese males.

Ghidrah had just cum again inside Bridget, and his still-stiff cock sloshed in the loads of thick semen which had spurted earlier into her pussy.

Baruda had pulled his cock out of her mouth. His penis was red, semi-erect, dripping with semen and saliva, which also shone wetly on Bridget's face.

Miriam's cry of dismaying despair made all the persons on the floor look up.

Still crouching on her hands and knees, Bridget swiveled her sweating head and looked up, peering at the bound nuns on the balcony.

Her face was hot and glowing, her eyes smoldering with unsatisfied lust. When she stared at the two sisters, there was no sign of recognition in her gaze.

Her gaze was shameless, and she was not in the least bit upset at being discovered by her co-religionists, her sisters in God who had formerly revered and respected her, before they had caught her in these acts of sucking and fucking.

Her gaze fastened on nubile Miriam, who reeled dangerously off balance.

Sister Bridget smiled, opening her mouth. Semen swam in thick white masses on her tongue, where she had obediently held Baruda's thick cum.

Bridget gurgled happily as the cum spilled down her chin, spattering on the tops of her swollen heavy breasts. She licked her lips.

Nurse Michi caught Sister Miriam just as the young nun passed out.

Minister Tono leaned forward, staring across the well of space which separated him from the nuns and the nurse on the opposite balcony.

His eyes were fastened on Miriam. The girl swooned, her eyes rolling, lashes fluttering, soft sighing moans forced from her.

Nurse Michi caught the novitiate from behind, hooking her strong hands under Miriam's bound arms, and lowering her on her back to the ground.

Down below, Sister Bridget shrugged. The balcony was too far away for those people on it to do her any good. Besides, there were three males down here.

One of them hadn't even fucked her. She crawled on her hands and knees to Dr. Serizawa, who beamed with pride at the success of his potent drug.

Bridget's pussy lips were red and chafed from all the fucking they had been subjected to in the pace of a few short hours.

Her hair was disarrayed and disordered, wet with sweat. Her lips were puffy and swollen from all the cocksucking she had done.

Her jaws and the root of her tongue ached with soreness. Cum shone on her face, her breasts, her pussy lips, bush, and her sticky inner thighs.

Her nipples were sore and stiff and dark red from being chewed, nibbled, pulled, pinched, twisted, and otherwise erotically tormented.

Internally, her membranes were sore and aching from the deep fuckings she had gotten from the thick and awesome cocks, which had stretched her tender membranes.

All the same, despite her aches and pains, she was insatiable.

Crouching at the feet of Dr. Serizawa, she fondled his cock and balls through the crotch of his trousers, her fingers eagerly kneading hardness into his flesh.

Serizawa smiled. He had his pick and choice of the captive females, and warmed his bed with a different beauty each night.

He preferred his girls to be white, and also, very young. Besides, his refined tastes would never permit him to fuck a female who had been fucked by criminals like Ghidrah and Baruda.

So Serizawa firmly brushed Sister Bridget's hands from his cock. Not in the least insulted by the rejection, she promptly began fondling herself.

Serizawa was well-satisfied with the successful demonstration of his drug. All had gone perfectly according to plan.

The doctor knew that Minister Tono had been most favorably impressed with the demonstration. Tono's words carried weight in the highest levels of the government.

It was Dr. Serizawa's fondest wish that the War Council would give his project the green light to go ahead into full production and development of his discovery.

Dr. Serizawa decided that it was a good time to end the experiment.

Guards conducted Ghidrah and Baruda back to their respective cells. The prisoners, their fierce lusts temporarily satisfied, were puzzled but pleased.

As Ghidrah repeatedly told himself, this was the damnedest prison term he had ever served!

Sister Bridget was taken away by orderlies to be washed, cleaned, and put in new quarters. Now that she had been transformed, she would no longer share a cell with her fellow sisters, but would move on to a new phase.

Dr. Serizawa had another, more directly demanding reason for ending the experiment at this time - the lust which simmered in his flesh, in his groin.

No man with blood in his veins could have watched the heated sexual couplings between the lust-crazed hulking convicts and the naked insatiable nun, without being aroused himself, to a feverish pitch.

Serizawa issued the necessary commands to his slavishly obedient orderlies to have the appropriate females prepared for his pleasure.

He enjoyed a light and tasty lunch, washing the gourmet fare down with a pot of steaming hot tea. Suitably refreshed after the meal, he was ready to indulge another and more intimately sensual pleasure.

He climbed a spiral steel staircase to the top level of the fortress. The fortress had been constructed at the turn of the century for the Russo-Japanese war.

Rooms in the top level had been adapted into chambers of pleasure.

Serizawa exchanged his sterile medical uniform for a richly embroidered robe of Old Japan, a flowing robe decorated with writhing griffins and dragons.

His slight build and polite, mild-mannered face contrasted with the rich flamboyance of the luxurious robe.

Taking a ring of master keys from an inside pocket of the robe, Serizawa unlocked a stout door of ironbound oak planks.

He entered a chamber which was furnished with devices of punishment and restraint. It was not a torture chamber - the torture chambers were below ground, in the deepest recesses of the dungeon - it was instead, a playroom where the doctor indulged his sadistic lusts. His orderlies had prepared the females for him.

Serizawa shut the door and locked it. He did not intend to be interrupted in the middle of his hour of late afternoon pleasure.

Sinister bondage devices and instruments, menacing machines, were arranged on the stone floor. The room was dimly lit and heavily shadowed.

A nude blonde beauty was strapped down to a thick-beamed wooden chair.

Joan Porter was her name. She was British, one of those fair-haired, high-breasted, long-legged aristocratic English beauties.

Not even the rigors and terrors of her captivity had spoiled Joan's loveliness. Defiance was still strong in her, and she refused to completely submit.

Serizawa could have forced her to submit with his Adaptamine drug, but it was more amusing to him to keep her for now, as his defiant captive.

When she was free to hate the master who ruled her body and soul and destiny, it made the domination of her so much more exciting to Serizawa.

The bondage chair was equipped with some interesting variations.

It was a solid, high-backed chair, fashioned from thick beams of dark wood, held together with iron bolts which were red with rust.

Joan sat up straight with rigidly correct posture, her back pressing the back of the chair, her forearms resting on the chair's arms.

Iron cuffs locked each of her slender wrists to the chair arms. Her thighs were spread, her knees were open, and her slim ankles were strapped to the front chair legs.

Joan was gagged with a red rubber ball gag forced between her jaws. Leather bands cut into her face as they pulled the ball gag tightly in place.

The ball dripped with her saliva, it shone with the stuff, saliva which had also spilled on her chin, and on the tops of her breasts.

A black leather slave collar was buckled around her long, swanlike neck, and was fastened in place to the top of the back of the chair.

Joan's breasts were high and firm. Her flesh was pink and creamy, rosy.

Bright circles of glittering gold shone and sparkled on her dark pink nipples. The glittering was caused by her nipple rings.

As part of her punishment and degradation, Joan's nipples had been pierced and outfitted with nipple rings which were never removed.

Only recently, two more golden rings were attached to her flesh. Since her white polished thighs were spread, the new rings could be clearly seen.

Each of the thin new golden rings pierced the fleshy outer lips of her pussy.

The nipple and labial rings were most useful for heavy slave training. The rings on her pussy lips in particular were a wonderful instrument of control.

Best of all, since the rings were on the outer lips, they did not interfere with his enjoyment when it came to fucking her pussy.

Strapped and cuffed to the bondage chair, Joan squirmed and fidgeted, strain and tension on her trapped face, her eyes wide with discomfort.

That discomfort was caused by another interesting modification of the chair - the fat dildo which was attached to the chair's removable seat.

The dildo jutted out from the seat, rising straight up. When the orderlies had prepared Joan for the perverse pleasure of their master, Dr. Serizawa, they had greased up the dildo and lowered the naked beauty rudely down on top of it.

The sleek dildo was thick and fat and it stretched the sensitive membranes of her tender, pink pussy. Her quivering pussy lips pressed the base of the shaft.

The dildo was fully up inside Joan, filling and stretching her. She gasped through the red rubber ball of the gag which filled her mouth and muffled her cries and whimpers.

Sexual suffering showed on her face, but her eyes focused with bright hot fear and hate when Dr. Serizawa entered the room and approached her.

He stood over her, fondling the masses of long golden hair which spilled down on her smooth shoulders and fell to the tops of her breasts.

A golden-haired beauty - tanned, Nordic looking, and the tawny blonde fleece of her bush proved that Joan was a natural blonde, this increasing her rarity and value.

Lucille, Joan's young teen daughter who was also imprisoned in the island fortress, was similarly a natural blonde, and even fairer-haired and paler skinned than her mother.

Dr. Serizawa counted himself as extremely fortunate to have been able to capture both the mother and the daughter.

It was the mother's turn to suffer from his sadistic lusts - for now.

CHAPTER SIX

Dr. Serizawa increased Joan's sexual torment by adding weights to her slave's rings. But her mental torment would be worse than the pains of her body.

From a green felt-lined drawer in a cabinet of ebony, Serizawa took four lead weights, each of them weighing some ounces.

Attached to tiny eyelets at the top of each weight were thin tough wires. Serizawa knotted the other ends of the wires to the rings.

Each golden ring had a wire tied to it. The little lead weight on the end of the wire, a lead weight similar to the kind used to sink a fishing line, exerted the steady pressures of weight and gravity on nipple ring and nipple.

Joan gasped, squirming as her nipple, pierced by the golden ring, was pulled down and stretched by the weight.

Her opposite nipple soon suffered identical treatment. The weights hung down to the middle of her belly, and swung to and fro like tiny pendulums.

But Dr. Serizawa did not pause here. He tied the remaining two weights to the thin golden rings which penetrated the outer lips of her pussy.

Like her nipples, her pussy lips were pulled down and stretched by the steady pressure of the weights.

These little sadistic attentions were part of the warm-up treatment.

Serizawa had been aroused during the scenes in the circular white room, and it did not take long for his member to return to that heated state.

His penis stiffened under the folds of his elaborately embroidered robe.

With hateful mock politeness, Serizawa bowed to the groaning captive blonde.

“You will forgive my inattention for a brief moment, my dear,” he hissed.

He pulled the taut bell rope, setting off the summons to his servants who waited for his call in another part of the fortress.

Presently the servants arrived at the door, which Serizawa opened to admit them.

These servants were trusted retainers of the doctor, and had been in his service since long before the war. They were well trained to serve their master.

They exhibited not the slightest sign of surprise or even interest when they entered the chamber and saw Joan in naked squirming bondage on the chair.

These two manservants escorted a clearly unwilling captive, a young white girl in her early teens, who was naked and bound.

The arrival of this young prisoner set off a furious agitation in Joan.

She had endured his torments and mockeries with grim stoicism, fighting unsuccessfully to maintain her dignity in the face of her humiliating enslaved condition.

But the appearance of the youngster proved more than Joan could bear. The ball gag muffled the outraged cries which shuddered her frame.

She twisted and writhed in her bonds, unable to gain the slightest headway. Her chest heaved and her breasts bobbed and jiggled.

Her movements set the weights dangling from her nipples and pussy lips to shaking wildly, but the blonde was oblivious to the pain.

The captive girl was Lucille, Joan's daughter.

Lucille was covered with a bondage hood, a canvas sack, loose-fitting around the head, but snug at the neck.

Lucille was a tender young girl who had barely attained puberty but a few months ago. Her slender girlish body was a pale and tender pink.

She was petite and exquisite, and her nudity put all her immature charms on exhibition. Her hands were tied in front of her.

The hood covered her head, but the rest of her was naked. She was a few inches over five feet high, with small budding breasts and long thin legs.

There was a coltish quality to her, compounded of childish awkwardness and lithe lusciousness. Fear stiffened her flesh and her movements.

Her hands were tied together by thin ropes which circled her wrists and held them together. She held her hands down in front of her crotch.

Joan could speak no identifiable words, but Lucille recognized her mother's voice from the wordless cries of outrage coming from Joan.

The burlap bag had coarse fibers, and was loose enough to permit her to breathe. The girl had been hooded much of the time for psychological purposes, to increase her fear.

She jerked her head in the direction from which her mother's moans had come from. Lucille could see nothing through the hood.

“Mommy! Oh, Mommy, where are you?!”

The girl's voice was thin, high, piping with fear.

Serizawa gave commands to his manservants, commands which were instantly carried out. They wheeled a bondage horse in front of Joan.

The horse was a vertical bar supported by metal legs. The top bar was waist high. Shackles and cuffs were bolted to the base.

Sobbing Lucille was stretched face down across the horse.

Lucille's bare feet were planted on the cold stones of the floor. She was short and the bar was high, so that she was forced to stand on her tiptoes.

Her flat little tummy pressed down on the padded cushioned top of the bar, while her hooded hand and bound hands stretched down on the other side.

Her budding breasts with their pale pink nipples pressed down on the vinyl surface of the bar. Her fingertips were inches from the floor.

Cuffs were snapped around her slender ankles and locked into place. The chains held her skinny legs spread shoulder width apart.

Cuffs closed around her wrists, their short attached chain holding Lucille in place on the bar, so that she had less than a few inches in which to move.

Lucille sobbed, miserably, wet liquid noises coming from inside the hood.

Unhappiness, misery, fear, and sexual shame had been her only portion of life in the last few months. Her life was now an unending nightmare.

It had not always been so. It seemed hard to believe, impossible to credit, but only a few months ago she had been a happy young girl. Her father was a consular attaché with the British embassy on the island of Latah, a Crown protectorate in the endless Pacific.

Lucille had been a little unofficial princess in the colony of Britishers and traders who administered and ruled the island.

She was an only child. Her daddy was handsome and her mother, a great socialite, was one of the island's reigning beauties.

They lived in a majestic house overlooking the lagoon, with gardens filled with the riotous rainbow colors of countless tropical flowers.

England ruled the waves. God was in his heaven, and all was right with this best of all possible worlds… such had been Lucille's thinking.

Life had been so frivolous, so gay and carefree! There had been an endless succession of parties, dinners, festivals, galas, pageants, and the like.

Young Lucille was just starting to blossom into full womanhood. She had gotten her period a couple of years before, and her willowy young body was softened with lush, ripening curves.

She had her good friends from the private school, where the children of the colonialists attended, where they were all great friends.

The only darkening cloud on the horizon was the aggressive Japanese presence in the islands. The Japanese were expansive militarists.

The problem of Japanese ambition in the Pacific was troubling to the embassy where Lucille's daddy worked. More and more, in recent months, had he been forced to work late into the night, and on the weekends, too, in dealing with an official response to the latest acts of Nipponese aggression.

Lucille had heard some of the grave talk between the adults about the problem, but she herself paid it little heed.

After all, she was more fascinated by the all-consuming business of boys and parties, and what girl had been seen kissing what boy, and so on.

Besides, hadn't her daddy said confidently that there would be no war?

He recalled the unbelievable carnage of the Great war, the war of 1914, where hundreds of thousands of men were slain in the course of one day's battle on the Marne, all killed while contending for a few hundred yards of trenches.

Her daddy said that the Great War had been the war to end war, that mankind was too civilized to engage in that sort of bloodbath.

The imperial War Council and High Command of the Rising Sun did not hold that opinion. Long resenting English domination in the Pacific, long hating the arrogant whites who had subjugated Asia, they were willing to risk all.

Lucille's days of childish innocence were ended all in one terrible night.

It was late at night, a sultry steaming night. She had tossed and turned in her bed. There was a great storm, a furious tempest.

Booming peals of thunder crashed constantly, while the blackness of the night was broken by endless flashes of light.

Lucille awoke, sitting up in bed. She was covered with cold sweat, her thin night dress clammy against her wet flesh, the sheets damp and rumpled.

Thunder boomed and lightning flashed. The ground shook. Lucille was fearful. In her young life she had seen more than a few tropical tempests, but never before had she witnessed a storm of this singular fury.

Lights were turned on in the hall. There was commotion in the house. Lucille heard the cries of servants who dashed about in panic.

She broke from her bed and dashed to the window, looking down at the harbor and town below. Red flickered along the dark water.

The town burned. Off-shore, naval vessels shelled the island. It was the crash of big guns and exploding artillery shells which she had mistaken for a storm.

She ran into the hall. Her mother was wrapped in a robe, and Lucille was further panicked by the look of stark terror on her mother's face.

Her father wore his trousers, but he was bare from the waist up and his feet were bare. He was hastily loading a revolver which he kept around the house.

Sobbing with fear, Lucille asked bewilderedly what was happening.

It was a surprise attack. The Imperial Army and Navy of the Rising Sun were assaulting the island with overwhelming force.

Daddy planned to take the family up into the high hills, where they might hide from the Japanese in the thick and pathless jungle.

He tried to command the native servants, but terror made them fly from the house as he impotently cursed them, waving his revolver around.

He and his wife hastily packed some provisions, food, water, blankets, and hurried out of the house. Lucille didn't even have time to change out of her night dress.

The night was warm, the air was thick and steamy. The blood-red fire of the burning town and the streaks of light threw weird shadows over all.

The family piled into the car. Daddy backed over the curb, the wheels squealing as he gunned the car down the driveway and out on the road.

Disorder and confused panic ruled. Lights blazed in the other great houses owned by the colonial families. Doors gaped open while the owners of the houses fled.

People streamed along the darkened roads. There was the weeping of women and the wailing of babies. The hordes blocked the road.

Daddy rolled down his window and stuck his head out the side, cursing those who blocked his progress and caused the car to crawl along.

Lucille had never heard her father use such filthy language. Daddy seemed like a madman, honking the horn, bulling the car through.

There was the whistling shriek of incoming shells, followed by a booming concussion which hammered the ground nearby.

The Japanese artillery were zeroing in on the roads. A barrage of shells crashed closer, throwing the mass of refugees into complete and total terror.

Daddy drove ahead. There was a tremendous rocking crash and the sound of breaking glass as the fender batted a person who had not gotten out of the way in time.

Lucille screeched thinly, covering her ears with her hands and squeezing her eyes shut so she wouldn't have to see anymore horrors.

The road was rough, rutted and narrow. Patches of smoke swirled across the road, obscuring all, but Daddy drove madly ahead.

A shell had splashed open a deep crater in the road. Daddy didn't see it until it was too late. He swerved wildly to avoid it.

The car missed the lip of the crater, but was out of control. It slid off the side of the road, sliding sideways.

Mother screamed and then the car crashed against a row of palm trees.

Lucille was thrown about in the car, knocked down. Breaking glass sprayed the car interior. The car was stopped dead in its tracks.

Palm branches, dislodged from the trees by the impact of the crash, rained down on the smashed auto. Lucille struggled to shake off her stunned daze.

She squealed and screamed when she looked in the front seat. Her mother lay curled on the seat, shattered glass glittering in her masses of long blonde hair.

Daddy was hunched over the wheel, wounded in the scalp or head, blood smeared on his face. Until he moaned in pain, Lucille thought that he was dead.

Lucille screamed for help. Her thin weeping wails were lost in the crashing of cannons and the explosion of artillery shells.

Lucille was bruised and battered and sore all over, but no bones seemed to be broken. She had to get out and get help.

She couldn't open the doors - the crushed car frame pinned the doors in place so she couldn't budge them.

But she was able to crawl through the rear window, which had been smashed on impact. It was a tight fit, but she was a thin girl.

She slithered out of the car. The front was all crumpled up, the hood was shaped like an accordion, and hissing clouds of steam rose from the cracked radiator.

Lucille clambered down to the ground and looked around. Her eyes burned and teared in the stinging smoke, which chocked her lungs.

Off in the distance, down the road, she saw movement, figures. She raced in their direction, shouting and waving her arms to catch their attention.

She succeeded - to her everlasting regret.

At first she thought they were going to pass her by, ignore her. She readied herself to chase them. She could never free her injured parents from the car by herself.

She halted in dismay when she saw them nearing her. They were small men, helmeted, holding bayoneted rifles at the ready.

They were Japanese soldiers, troopers of the Rising Sun, a search party assigned to round up the fleeing islanders.

They grunted with surprise at seeing the thin young girl in the middle of the road. Lucille was given an instant's warning when she heard the soldiers speak.

They did not speak English, or any other language she recognized. She turned and ran, while some of the troopers gave chase.

Lucille was stunned, shaken, bruised, and confused. She was barefoot, and the splintered roadway sliced and stabbed the soles of her feet.

It was like one of those nightmares where the dreamer is chased by some horrible monster and can not run fast enough to escape.

Only this wasn't a dream, it was real, horribly real! Footsteps pounded behind her, getting closer and closer, as her pursuer neared her.

Lucille was caught by the back of the neck and thrown down. She rolled, tumbling, scraping her bony knees and her forearms on the asphalt.

She looked up. An Imperial trooper leered down at her. Never had she imagined that such fearsome creatures in human form existed.

He was short, squat, with a shovel shaped face, a mouthful of cracked yellow teeth, and jutting, oversized ears. His scowling face was covered with beard stubble.

He grinned widely as he stared down at the girl. He bent over and grabbed her wrist, yanking her to her feet.

Lucille, screaming and sobbing, beat at him with her little fists, doing little more than amusing him with her ineffectual efforts.

He bodily picked her up - she weighed hardly more than a hundred and some-odd pounds - and tossed her face down over his shoulder.

He wrapped his arm around her, holding her in place, and carried her back to the wrecked car, where his fellow soldiers were gathered.

There were five of them in the patrol, infantrymen commanded by a corporal who was thin and weasel-faced, with a pencil-thin mustache.

Lucille, her beautiful mother, and her daddy were captives - prisoners of war at the mercy of cruel troopers!

CHAPTER SEVEN

Lucille's injured parents were pulled out of the crashed car.

Commanded by the compact little corporal, the troopers pried open one of the crumpled doors. Daddy was dragged out none too gently.

Lucille kicked and screamed when she saw him tossed to the ground. She was set down on her feet, and the black-bearded soldier who caught her tied her hands.

Lucille shrilly squealed when her thin arms were pulled behind her back. Her wrists were crossed, then tied together with thin, but tough rawhide thongs.

After her hands were bound behind her back, the soldier did not let go of her. He stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her.

He pinned her arms to her sides. He was filthy, his uniform plastered with mud, dust, spattered with dark stains that looked like blood.

He had been confined in the hold of the invading troopship, and the male smell of him was thick and rich and ripe. It made Lucille feel positively faint to have to smell it. And his hands were hard and rough as they gripped her.

His breath smelled of fish. It was warm and oily on her flesh, raising shudders from her. He pressed intimately against the girl.

Her mother, Joan, was pulled from the car. The soldiers leered, grinned, and made obscene jokes when they saw that the blonde beauty was not dead.

Joan was pulled out of the car. Her eyelashes fluttered and deep groaning moans came from her parted and puffy lips.

Fearing that the car might catch fire and burn, the corporal had the captives taken down the road.

Some twenty or thirty yards along the road was a waist-high stone fence. The corporal halted his men, and studied the terrain.

The corporal's thin cunning face looked crafty and scheming. He fingered his thin mustache thoughtfully as he looked up and down in both directions.

The road was empty of both fleeing refugees and pursuing soldiers. The corporal reached a decision, and communicated it to his men.

His decision was greeted with great approval by his men. There was something wolfish and evil in these men which terrified Lucille.

She was the most awake and aware member of her stunned little family, so consequently she was the most fearful. Joan and her husband were still dazed and unsure.

The soldiers herded the family to an opening in the fence. Lucille walked. A burly soldier with his front teeth missing carried her mother.

Two soldiers dragged Daddy, one on each side of him, holding him under the arms. Daddy moaned and muttered in delirium.

Behind the fence was a field with tall grass. The captive family was brought under a row of trees, so that the trees stood between them and the roadway, shielding them from the sight of anyone passing by on the road.

Joan was set down on the ground with her back against a tree, so that she sat up with her long legs extended in front of her.

In the confusion of flight, neither Lucille, nor her mother had time to dress properly. Joan, was clothed only in a thin robe which she had thrown on over her nightie.

The soldiers clustered around the captives like a circle of wolves.

The corporal commanded that Daddy be tied to a tree.

Daddy was stripped naked. His penis and balls looked pathetically vulnerable in the night. Lucille had never seen that part of her daddy.

She was confused and ashamed for him, since his wits were still so scattered by the knock on the head that he hardly grasped what was happening.

She didn't look at his penis, but looked away, a respectful daughter.

The soldiers used their web belts and canteen straps to bind Daddy standing to the tree. His knees bent and his legs slumped, but the belts cut deeper into his naked flesh, and supported him in his bound position.

Joan sat, her face bruised and smudged and soiled, but still lovely. Her robe was held closed by a thin cloth sash.

In the confusion of the flight, crash, and captivity, her robe had come open, so that now, her long and luscious white legs were displayed to the tops of her thighs.

Under her robe could be seen the thin, gauzy, lacey nightie she wore. Her breasts pressed heavily against the fabric, showing the buttons of her nipples.

A soldier fingered Joan's hair, running it through his hands caressingly. He wheezed for breath, flecks of saliva showing on his lips.

He reached inside her robe and squeezed the knob of her breast through her nightie. Chuckling lewdly, he felt and fondled her big breasts.

Lucille screeched in shrill outrage. The troopers laughed mockingly at her. What was worse, they were eyeing her in a fashion which petrified the youngster.

The soldier bending over Joan pulled open the sash and opened her robe. He lifted the lacey hem of her nightie up to her waist.

Joan wore no panties, and so was naked under the nightie.

Her figure was superb, with a thin waist and flat tummy. Her hips curved out lushly with womanly wideness, while her thighs were taut, and trim.

Her bush was a tawny delta of dark blonde curls, while her pussy lips were full and fleshy. Joan fumblingly tried to cover herself.

The soldier pushed open her thighs, exposing her pussy. His thick fingers poked and prodded her pussy lips, making Joan whimper.

Another soldier helped the first to wrestle off Joan's robe. The blonde beauty struggled to wakefulness as hard hands pulled at her nightie.

Her nightie was removed, leaving her all naked and white. Her breasts bounced lushly when they were freed from the lacy cups of the nightie.

Lucille squirmed and struggled. The black-bearded trooper stood behind her, holding her. Blackboard toyed with the pale blonde braids hanging down on either side of Lucille's face. Tears of terror were squeezed from her.

The soldiers pushed Joan on her back on the ground. The rich brown earth made her clean limbed pale form glow with whiteness.

When Joan tried to rise up, her weak resistance was easily overcome and she was pushed right back down on her back and held in place.

The little corporal, claiming the privilege of his rank, would take the first turn. He swaggered over to the naked captive blonde.

The corporal opened his belt and took down his pants.

He was bandy-legged. Khaki leggings were wrapped around his narrow shins, while his breeches hung down around his knobby knees.

He was heavily haired, with the hair thickest in the black forest of his pubic bush.

His cock was thick, limp, uncircumcised, his balls were heavy. He cupped his cock and balls in his palm and lovingly squeezed them.

He closed his fist over his penis and pulled and kneaded it. It grew in his hand to a thick and swelling erection.

The erection was a jerking rod of flesh, rising from his hips. He got down on his knees on the ground between Joan's spread legs.

Now that he knelt between her legs, she could not close them. His cock jutted out. Licking his lips, slobbering, he stretched out on top of the blonde captive.

Joan was awake and groaning. She tried to push him away. Grunting like a pig rooting in mud, the corporal manhandled the soft mounds of her breasts.

He dug his cracked nails into them, pulled and squeezed them. He pinched her nipples, twisting them this way and that.

Joan's nipple were red, stiff and angry from the mistreatment. Pain brought her around, and her eyes slowly focused.

Her wits returned. She looked like she was waking from a drugged sleep. Panic came over her face as she realized what was being done to her.

The corporal's chest pressed her breasts, flattening them. His cock was hard against her flesh, and he humped against her, getting his rod hotter.

Joan shrieked and struggled. The corporal was immensely pleased that she had come around. It wasn't as much fun to rape a senseless woman as it was to rape a female who was fully aware of her degradation.

Terror bubbled in Joan's voice, her cries mingling with Lucille's sobbing shrieks.

The corporal reached under his hips and gripped the rod of his cock.

He poked its swollen head against her quivering pussy lips, prying them apart.

He stuffed his swollen cock head inside her. His buttocks, hard and hairy, vibrated from the tension with which he clenched them.

He stabbed Joan between the legs with the avenging rod of his cock. His thick, proud penis, pried open the narrow passage of her pussy.

Joan screamed with outraged womanhood as she was deeply penetrated.

Lucille was stunned with horror. This business of sex had always seemed a bit nasty to her, from what she had heard of it.

She saw the short, hairy corporal stretched out on top of her mother, his thickly muscled legs tangled with her long, shapely white limbs.

His naked bottom looked incredibly obscene as the buttocks wriggled and jiggled with each humping thrust he shoved into Joan.

New terror came to Lucille, as the black-bearded soldier rubbed her breasts.

She sobbed, squirming as his hands, hard and horny, rubbed her small breasts. He plucked at the thin fabric of her nightie.

His gripping hand seized a handful of thin cloth and tore it from her flesh. She sobbed hysterically as she was stripped.

He tore the nightie off her. She was a thin little thing, just barely developed, with budding breasts and a lightly bushed, thin-lipped pussy.

Her hands, bound behind her back, hampered her resistance, but she could have done nothing anyway, against the burly black-bearded brute.

His hands roamed, over her, stroking the softness of her flesh, squeezing her budding breasts like they were fruit he measured before buying.

Joan's fears for herself were forgotten when she heard her daughter's thin wailing shrieks for help.

The corporal's rod was lodged deep in her tight pussy. Joan was almost dry inside, and the corporal had to fight for every inch of penetration.

Now he was lodged deep in her, and it was worth the struggle. He was breathlessly ecstatic from the tightness with which her sheath gripped his cock.

He started thrusting, slamming his hips forward, cramming his swollen cock into her, working it deep into the heated core of her pussy.

He squatted on Joan like a copulating toad, shoving his cock up against her, into her, with deep hard-driving thrusts.

His weight pressed her naked form down into the cool damp earth. Joan's long, shapely white legs kicked and thrashed as he shoved into her.

Over his sweaty shoulder, the aghast mother saw her naked bound teen daughter being felt and fondled and groped by the soldier with the black beard.

Blackboard pushed Lucille down on the ground. The girl landed awkwardly on her bare bottom, which pressed into the wet earth.

She fell with her skinny legs spread wide open, showing the delicate pink slit of her pussy. Sobbing, she struggled to a sitting position.

Blackboard took hold of her golden braids, holding both in one hand, twisting her hair painfully by the roots, bringing tears to Lucille's eyes.

His free hand fumbled open his belt buckle and the buttons of his fly. He opened his pants at the waist. They fell down to his knees.

He wore no shorts, and his awesome erection sprang up when freed from the confines of his khaki breeches.

His cock was a club of flesh dangling in her frightened face. He gripped his penis so that part of the shaft and all of the head jutted out.

He pulled her to his cock and rubbed it against her smooth, warm face. The swollen cock head throbbed against the flesh of her face.

Joan screamed for the soldiers to spare her daughter. Her violent struggles delighted the corporal, since his cock was planted deep in her pussy, and when Joan writhed and struggled, the movements of her hips thrilled his seething cock.

Lucille was shocked out of her sobs when Blackboard casually slapped her face. The slap stung and shocked her, stopping her tears for an instant.

Lucille, a pampered and even a spoiled child, had never been struck by her parents or any other adult, and indeed had never suffered a corporal punishment.

When she was slapped, the stinging novelty of it caused her mouth to fall open in astonishment - an opening which was taken advantage of by the crafty trooper.

He stuffed his swollen cock between the girl's full pink lips, filling her mouth with his rod of flesh, jamming it all the way to the back of her throat.

Lucille gagged as the cock head filled her throat. Blackboard held her head in his hands and rocked it back and forth.

He forced her to suck on his cock. Lucille was revolted and terrified, but was too afraid not to obey. Her mother's outraged cries were constant.

Lucille sucked inexpertly. The cock was so thick and full that it stretched her lips and made her jaws ache with the size of it.

The member was too full and swollen for her to suck it well. Blackboard took his cock out of her mouth after only a minute of sucking.

Lucille's saliva dripped from the massive member. The trooper pushed her down on her back, which pressed her bound hands.

Squatting down, he seized her thin ankles and pried open her skinny legs with the ease of a man pulling apart a wishbone.

A malicious trooper splashed water on Daddy s face and slapped him awake. Daddy moaned dully, his heavy head hanging down.

Blackboard rubbed his hard cock against Lucille's satin-smooth inner thighs. Guiding his knobbed cock head to her slit, he rubbed it up and down her pussy.

He pressed his cock head against her thin slit and pushed it in. His weight pressed her down into the ground. The black earth was cool and moist against her buttocks.

The cock head was hot and burning where it touched her inner membranes. Blackboard shoved into her, ripping shrill girlish shrieks from her.

She was a virgin, and she almost fainted when his cock head battered at her maidenhead. The folds of tender tissue resisted the assault for an instant.

The trooper held her wriggling hips down to the ground, holding her in place as he gathered his forces for a second attempt.

He shoved into her - there was a tremendous tearing pain between her legs - something ripped inside her - she screamed.

The bright flash of pain seemed to blow out the top of her head. The trooper grunted triumphantly as his stiff cock opened her pussy.

Shreds of her maidenhead were swept aside by his stiff, surging member as it pierced the pit of her narrow, no-longer-virgin passage.

The awesome cock stretched her membranes as tight as drumheads.

At the instant of her defloration and penetration, Lucille gave out a shrill and crackling scream which cut through her father's stunned daze.

Sobbing, cursing, weeping with impotent rage, Daddy saw his wife and his virgin daughter repeatedly raped under his very nose. And the females, mother and daughter were raped again and again. The soldiers took turns taking their breeches down and forcing the captive females to take their hard cocks by mouth or between the legs.

Lucille was not spared, and no sooner had Blackboard cum inside her and climbed off, than another trooper crowded in to take his place.

Dawn was breaking when the exhausted and satisfied soldiers finally rested. Lucille and Joan were more dead than alive.

They were too weak to walk. Lucille was numb and bruised between her legs with her thin pussy lips swollen from the chafing irritation of multiple fucking.

Joan was in even worse shape, since the troopers had preferred the big-breasted, long-legged aristocratic woman to the skinny, and barely nubile girl.

The rapes had been horrible, but the heart of the horror had not yet even been touched, not until the troopers did in Daddy.

Daddy was a broken man: No man could watch such things done all night to his beloved wife and daughter without something breaking inside him.

But that wasn't enough. The corporal gave the cruel command. Daddy was not even deemed worthy of the expense of a bullet, so the troopers bayoneted him to death. They made a savage butchery of the job, too.

Lucille and her mother were taken to the prison compound with the rest of the captive women. As luck would have it - bad luck - both mother and daughter were selected to serve and suffer on the island of Dr. Serizawa.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Dr. Serizawa was in high spirits. The success of his experiment in using his drug Adaptamine to transform chaste Sister Bridget into a wanton slut had delighted him. Serizawa was in a celebratory mood.

He would celebrate this special day by inflicting a very special degradation on Lucille - one which he had been saving for just this kind of special occasion.

His future seemed assured and brilliant. With Minister Tono's enthusiastic endorsement of Adaptamine, and the Imperial patronage which would surely follow it, Dr. Serizawa would achieve his great triumph.

He would present the divine Emperor with Adaptamine, a drug which would invaluably aid the Imperial war machine, and all the Empire.

Adaptamine, prepared in great quantities, could tranquilize and pacify the numerous captive populations who fell under the yoke of the conquerors.

Dr. Serizawa's discovery would place him in the ranks of the immortals of his homeland, and reveal him as the greatest living expert on brain chemistry.

Of course, his experiments were not quite concluded, and a great amount of work remained to be done before he could present the finished project.

For the moment, Dr. Serizawa forgot his lifelong project, and enjoyed himself by dominating and degrading the mother and daughter who were his slaves.

He had used Adaptamine on neither Joan nor Lucille. He much preferred their natural reactions of hate and shame and fear.

He loosened the sack which covered Lucille's head, and pulled it off.

Mother and daughter laid eyes on each other at the same time. Lucille broke out sobbing. She knew that no good could come to her while she was stripped and spread and bound across the horse. Lucille had already suffered enough at the hands and cock of Dr. Serizawa to know that her erotic torment was the passion of his leisure hours.

Joan twisted and squirmed in her seat. The dildo rising vertically from the seat, the dildo which impaled her pussy and kept her captive, made wet, lewd, sucking sounds when she fidgeted and squirmed in a futile effort.

Lucille was pale and gasping with shock when she saw the weights which dangled from her mother's nipple and labial rings.

It had been horrible enough that Joan had been pierced and ringed, but it was worse that the rings were used to devil and dismay her.

But Lucille's concern for her mother was soon replaced by her fears for herself.

Dr. Serizawa strolled behind the bound girl, his cock stiff and straining against his robe, his hands almost shaking with excited lust.

Tear tracks glistened on Lucille's pale and frightened face. She whimpered and moaned. Serizawa rested his hand on the curve of her rump.

He felt and fondled her cupcake buttocks, which were small enough to fit in his palms, and were of unsurpassing smoothness.

They were softer than butter, the alabaster bottom flesh warm in his groping hands. Beneath the pale pink moons of her rounded rear, was the thin slit of her pink pussy, her pussy which was the plaything of her Oriental captors.

She gasped when Serizawa fingered her between her legs.

His sensitive physician's fingers followed the folds and ridges of her thin and warmly delicate pink labia, which quivered at his touch.

He slipped the first joint of his middle finger inside her pussy, where sleek slippery membranes pulsed against his flesh.

A cruel whim seized his fancy, and he acted on it immediately.

Even in the few months of her captivity, Lucille had filled out a bit more, the thin angular lines of her girlish figure softening more with curves.

Her breasts were now the size of large peaches, with pale pink nipples and neat, round little rosettes which were like pink buttons pasted to her bosom.

The teen's breasts looked so small and shy and vulnerable, that Serizawa could not resist the impulse to torment them.

Lucille's voice cracked with sobbing when she saw the doctor approach her with a pair of nipple clamps - he had used them before.

The clamps were alligator clips, their saw-toothed metal jaws held together by small and powerful steel springs.

Attached by a small chain to the end of each clip was a hefty weight, similar to the lead weights fastened to Joan's nipple and pussy rings.

Serizawa had often mused on the prospect of having the daughter pierced like the mother had been, and outfitted with her own set of golden slave rings.

He had refrained from taking that step so far, not out of mercy - never out of considerations of mercy for his slaves, since he was merciless - but rather; because her youth and girlishness tickled his depraved appetites.

He reasoned that it would detract from her youthful childishness if she was outfitted just yet, with equipment as adult as nipple rings.

On the other hand, Lucille's small pink nipples would be deliciously enhanced if they were pierced with neat little golden rings…

He was seriously considering having at least her nipples pierced, and soon. In the meantime, the alligator clips would serve the purpose of the nipple rings.

Playfully, teasingly, he tormented Lucille by feeling and fingering her bosom, his hands massaging heat into her ripe breasts.

He pinched her pink nipples, rolling them between his fingers until, tingling and throbbing, they stiffened into erection.

When her nipples stood out on her budding white breasts like little pink pebbles of flesh, he clamped an alligator clip on the right nipple.

The saw-toothed metal jaws pressed viciously into the girl's hard nipple. The weight which dangled from the clip tugged with relentless pressure at her nipple and breast.

He attached the second clip to her left nipple. Lucille, sobbing and choking, fought to keep herself as still and motionless as possible.

Her smallest movement set the weights to swinging and spinning, increasing her torment. And yet her torment had hardly begun.

Now that her nipples were being properly punished, Serizawa strolled behind her, returning his lustful attention to her crotch and bottom.

It had been a few days since he had taken the rod of chastisement to Lucille's pert little bottom. Those cupcake buttocks, so saucy and insolent, cried out for the rod.

That was a pleasure he would postpone until later, when a good solid thrashing would rouse the girl again, and force her to perform some distasteful act with enthusiasm.

Serizawa's mouth watered as he fingered her pussy,

Again and again, his groping hands returned to her luscious little bottom. His erotic attention was concentrated on her plump behind.

He kneaded and fondled her buttocks. Lucille was restrained so that she could hardly move more than a few inches in any direction.

Her writhings while the doctor handled her saucy rear caused her ripe buttocks to jiggle, and agitated the weights which pulled down on her nipples and breasts.

Serizawa gripped her rear, his fingers sinking into her soft bottom flesh as he spread her buttocks and opened up her ass.

Her asshole was an inviting pink rosebud, tiny and tight. Despite the many abuses to which she had been subjected, her ass had remained virgin.

Dr. Serizawa had reserved for himself the pleasure of deflowering her backside. With the triumph of Adaptamine, this seemed like the time for a special perversion.

Lucille gasped and groaned when he reached inside her ass and prodded her hole. The pink wrinkled folds of puckered flesh quivered at his touch.

She was no longer innocent, and during her captivity she had seen that men often took their pleasure in the hot tight ass of a captive female as readily as in her mouth or pussy.

But she had been spared from the indignity and shameful pain of anal rape, up to this moment, that is - now her immunity was over.

Dr. Serizawa unbelted his robe and opened it. He let the twin halves fall open, revealing his nakedness, his stiff cock jutting out.

His penis throbbed when he took hold of it. He rubbed the rod against Lucille's taut thighs, and prodded her pussy with his cock head.

It was not her pussy which was the intended target of his lust.

The folds of his robe flapped around him like the wings of some magnificently feathered bird of prey, an impression reinforced by his canny, owlish expression.

He went to get the grease. Lucille was small with narrow hips, so that her pussy was still incredibly tight, despite the stretching it had gotten from the many hard cocks which had raped it in the time of her captivity.

She would need greasing. From a bottle of dark green glass, Serizawa poured droplets of creamy lotion on his hands.

He pulled apart her buttocks, exposing her little puckered asshole. Reaching between her ass cheeks, he smeared the salve in the cleft of her bottom.

The crack of her ass split her buttocks like the twin halves of a plum. Her asshole quivered as he inserted his middle finger and stuffed the lotion up inside it.

Almost as exciting as Lucille's squeals of whimpering terror, was the berserk fun of her mother Joan, who battled heroically with the chains which held her.

Joan might do herself an injury if she did not calm down and halt her hysterical efforts, but she would never break the bonds of the chair which held her.

After greasing the youngster's anus and rectum, Serizawa applied the stuff to his cock, smearing it with the oily lotion.

His stiff member was hot in his hand, rubbery from the grease of the lotion. It looked like a red arrow pointed at the tender target of Lucille's ass.

He pulled open her pert ass cheeks. Her hips rubbed squeakingly against the vinyl covering on the top bar of the bondage horse.

She squealed and screeched like a little girl. Serizawa's shaft throbbed against his gripping fingers as he put his dart between her plump buttocks.

Lucille wailed and wept.

The knobbed head of Serizawa's swollen cock was red and hot, and oiled with grease. It slid down the crack of Lucille's ass, nudging her little pink hole.

The cock head slipped down, out of her greased crack, and pressed against her slitted pussy lips, so that the head pushed them open.

Lucille was not allowed to even hope that the demonic doctor had altered his target from her virgin ass to her pussy.

Serizawa instantly shoved the cock head back against her tight little asshole. He gripped his cock with thumb and forefinger below its bullet shaped head.

Impatient, and unwilling to delay her anal defloration for another moment, he pressed the tip of his cock into her tight hole.

His cock head wedged open her asshole, smoothing out the wrinkles as her anal ring was stretched by the invading bullet-shaped cock head.

Lucille grunted loudly from deep in her belly, sounding as though she was having a particularly difficult and painful bowel movement.

Her face, creased with pain, was red and scrunched up, her mouth open.

Serizawa grunted from the effort of opening up her virgin ass to his rod. Sweat poured down his oversized bulging forehead, making his face glisten.

Hissing for breath, he shoved his cock head past her anal ring. The virgin anus was cracked and opened, and his cock head quickly filled her rectum.

Her rectal sheath clutched the head of his cock with viselike pressure which was truly astounding, and which fired his lust to a roaring blaze.

His hips pushed into her, pressing her hard against the top bar of the bondage horse.

Lucille's plentiful tears rolled down her moaning face and spattered on the stone floor. Her cries were hoarse, ragged.

Serizawa pushed his stiff penis up inside the girl's ass. Her rectum was hot, tight, and creamy, and the doctor shook and shuddered from the extremes of his lust.

He shoved deep, stretching her, until his cock head was wedged way up inside her, and his swollen shaft was holstered deep in her ass.

Penetration and defloration had been achieved.

Ejaculation must not be delayed. Serizawa began to thrust, rocking his hips so that his swollen shaft was withdrawn from her ass.

The red cock was squeezed out of the stretched pink ring of her anus. He kept his knobbed cock head in her ass, impaling her tender hole.

He held her hips and wiggled his own as he forced his cock back inside. He entered her with quick, jerky, stabbing thrusts.

Each thrust darted his cock another inch inside her. He reamed her, widening her narrow core with his rod of flesh.

He fucked her hotly, his passions rising with the heat in his groin and the tension of his swollen balls, which were so taut that they vibrated.

His hips rocked her buttocks - her ass cheeks pressed his red rod - he pushed deep into her, so that her anal ring circled the base of his shaft.

Serizawa shoved faster and harder, brutally raping the girl's tender ass. Heat was stroked into his cock with each gliding pass in or out of her ass.

Sexual friction, and the teen's own internal heat, baked his cock to the boiling point. Gasping, he rammed his rod home.

Lucille's shrieks reached a new and frenzied pitch. She shook in her restraints like she was suffering some kind of convulsive fit. Serizawa's stiff cock, throbbing roughly, was holstered right up in her ass. His cock swelled like a hose when the water pressure is turned on.

He came in her ass.

Semen spurted up into her vitals, thick and warm and gushing in great quantities.

Losing control, Lucille wet herself, a streaming golden shower spilling from her slit.

Dr. Serizawa barely noticed it. His orgasm hit him like a thunderbolt. His cock was a lightning rod and he was being electrified.

He came heavily, his orgasm powered not only by his degradation of the white daughter and mother, but also by the transformation of Sister Bridget into a wanton sex slave.

Dr. Serizawa sighed deeply as the last shuddering throes of his orgasm shook him. The last drops of cum were milked from his cock by her twitching asshole.

He kept his cock in Lucille's hot, tight ass for a long time. His eyes glazed with pleasure, heavy-lidded, closed, and his chin rested on his chest.

Lucille's convulsive quiverings, shakings, and tremblings, caused her stretched rectum to clamp down on his cock, thrilling him.

Heated afterglow rose up inside him, radiating from his cock which was lodged deep in the girl's raped-out ass, and spreading through the rest of him, Afterglow filled him like helium fills a balloon, so that he felt he might float away on the hot billowing pleasure seething through his flesh.

At the same time that Dr. Serizawa was savoring his orgasmic afterglow - his pleasure added to by the soft, whimpered sobbing of the raped girl - an unusual occurrence took place in the laboratory.

Matsu, a low-browed, none too bright peasant who served as a kind of janitor, was cleaning out Serizawa's laboratory.

There was a thick animal smell in the lab, thanks to the creatures which filled the cages which lined the walls.

These experimental animals included rats, white mice, a dog, and two chimps.

The animals had all been dosed with various compounds of Adaptamine. They were monitored carefully for side effects and the like.

It was disastrous that one of the rats had gotten out. Matsu was puzzled. It seemed as though the rat had somehow chewed its way out of the cage. Matsu feared the wrath of Dr. Serizawa, who was merciless where his experiments were concerned. Matsu's fear was increased when he killed the rat.

He had to kill it. The rat was crazy. Why, he never would have found it, if the rat hadn't rushed out and attacked him.

It must have been sick or something, because it didn't look good. Its eyes were red, and pink froth bubbled from its snout.

When the rat started biting at him, Matsu unthinkingly battered at it with his broom. He was startled into panic.

The little devil was hard to kill and was a long time dying. It gave Matsu another problem - how would he ever explain this to Serizawa?

Fearing the wrath of the doctor, Matsu reached a happy solution: he would take another rat from the animal pens, and substitute it in the cage of the crazed rat. All rats looked the same, and were only identified by the cages they occupied, so no one would be the wiser that the substitution had been made.

Matsu carried out his plan, filling the care with a new rat, and disposing of the dead rat. No one would unmask the deception.

This small incident would result in total disaster.

CHAPTER NINE

Suffering Sister Miriam, the prettiest nun, was softened up by seeing the degradation and bizarre humiliation of Bridget.

Miriam no longer thought of Bridget as a sister nun. It was hard to think of Bridget as human. She was more like some kind of thing, some devilish creature of mad lust, wicked and insatiable.

Sister Miriam had always considered herself reasonably levelheaded and rational. She had faith, but she had never put much credence in dogma and superstition.

But her modern beliefs were challenged by the bizarre transformation of Bridget from chaste nun to sex-crazed slut.

If she didn't know better, Sister Miriam could have believed that Bridget was possessed by a demon of lust which controlled her actions.

But Sister Miriam's self-control, badly shaken by Bridget's metamorphosis, was utterly shattered when Sister Anne was altered.

A week had gone by since that day when Bridget was injected with Adaptamine, and changed into a submissive slut.

Now it was Sister Miriam's turn for torment.

She had been taken to one of the grim chambers on the top floor of the fortress, a stark bedchamber complete with devices of restraint and punishment.

For entertainments such as these, Dr Serizawa preferred to use the more intimate and private chambers, rather than the sterile white clinic chamber.

Sister Miriam was stripped naked and tied standing up.

A thick black chain was suspended from a pulley in the arched ceiling. Iron cuffs were at the end of the chain.

Sister Miriam's arms were raised over her head. Her wrists were cuffed, and the chain had been raised, exerting painful pressure on her shoulder joints.

The young sister was forced to stand on tiptoes in order to buy some relief from the pressure of her stretched shoulder joints.

Standing on tiptoes was difficult to maintain, and doing it for more than a minute, made her legs tremble with soreness and strain.

Her legs were spread shoulder width apart, with each ankle tied by rope to an iron ring. The two rings rose on the outside of her feet.

As before, Sister Miriam was mockingly clothed in her religious hood, which covered her head like a veil of shadow, and left the pale oval of her face bare.

She was outfitted with a bizarre religious ornament. Loops of thin wire circled the bases of her stiff nipples, which had been irritated into erection.

The other ends of the wires were secured to the top of an oversized crucifix. The large cross had formerly hung on a wall, and was not lightweight.

It pulled down on the wires, tightening the loops which cut into Sister Miriam's punished nipples, stretching and distending them.

Not only were her nipples stretched, but the firm mounds of Sister Miriam's bosom were likewise abused, and were pulled downward and stretched.

Sister Miriam moaned in constant pain from the muscular strain.

Apart from the hood, the nun was naked. Her firm body was white and shining with glistening sweat. Her pussy was a black triangle between her legs.

But Sister Miriam was tar from alone in her torment.

Also present in die chamber of pain and pleasure were Dr. Serizawa, Nurse Michi, Minister Tono, and some other suffering slaves.

Joan was present, gasping in painful bondage. And where the mother was, the daughter could also usually be found, since it amused Serizawa to torment them together.

Young Lucille was in the chamber. So unfortunately, was Sister Bridget, who was locked into new depths of utter debasement.

Bridget now served as a human toilet.

From where she stood in rigid bondage Sister Miriam could see Bridget.

The buxom nun crouched naked under a metal framework with a toilet seat mounted on top. The seat came up to waist height.

Bridget was hunched tightly under the seat so that the metal bars pressed harshly into the soft, smooth masses of her shining pink flesh.

Her legs were folded, with her chin pressing her knees. Her hands were cuffed to her ankles. The framework itself was a kind of cage with one side swinging open to release or confine the victim. It was locked now.

Bridget's head was tilted back. The hole in the seat was directly over her face.

Nurse Michi insolently, haughtily strolled over to Bridget. Michi's white uniform was open and unbuttoned, exposing her bare amber-skinned breasts.

Her dark brown nipples stood out like thumbs, her breasts bobbed as she walked, making the nipples swing softly from side, to side.

Michi sneered down at Bridget. The Oriental hellcat hiked up her white skirt.

She wore a brown rubber garter belt and matching stockings.

The rubber garter belt kinkily framed her wide hips. The glittering metal tabs of the garters were fastened to the tops of her skin-tight rubber stockings.

Michi wore no panties, and her black-bushed pussy looked doubly lewd framed by the brown rubber garments.

Her pussy lips were dark, rosy-purple, full and fleshy. Her plump thighs oozed out of the tops of the rubber stockings with a surplus of amber-skinned flesh.

Nurse Michi rubbed her pussy before climbing on the seat. She held her white skirt up at her waist. Her plump buttocks mashed down.

Her pussy was poised over Bridget's face. Bridget opened her jaws wide and pressed her parted lips to the Nurse's pussy as she had been trained to, forming a tight seal around it.

Smiling wickedly, Michi relaxed and filled Bridget's mouth with her golden shower.

What distressed Sister Miriam the most about the awesome act of degradation, was the fact that Bridget seemed to willingly, indeed even eagerly accept it.

After she had emptied her waste juices into the vessel of Bridget, Michi smugly commanded the confined slave to lick her clean.

Bridget's wet face pressed into Michi's pussy. Bridget's pink tongue rolled over the sweaty, pee-stained labia, licking and slurping, covering every inch.

She pushed her tongue inside Michi's trench and rolled it over the membranes, licking and lapping. Michi squirmed with arousal.

Bridget cleaned her out thoroughly, but Michi wouldn't permit her to stop. The mouthing had fired up her passions, and now, Bridget must satisfy them.

Bridget's tongue rolled to the top of the Oriental's slit, slipping under her warm pussy lips to lick and nuzzle the throbbing clitoris.

Michi shivered with arousal as the nun's tongue rolled back and forth over her love button.

Michi's breasts, dangling free and unbound through her opened white nurse's uniform, bobbed as she rocked her hips, grinding her pussy against Bridget's mouth.

Her stiff nipples screamed for stimulation. Michi cupped her breasts, soft bosom flesh oozing out of her fingers.

She opened her fingers, opened and closed them, squeezing the stiff nipples which throbbed between them, squeezing them harder and faster.

At the same time, not far from the scene of the action, Dr. Serizawa amused himself by applying the whip to Lucille's saucy bottom.

The punished girl had been slow and reluctant to carry out his dominant command. Now her pained bottom paid the price of such folly.

Lucille was stripped naked, with her hands tied behind her back. Serizawa, dressed in a loose white robe, whipped her rear with a rod.

The rod, over three feet long, was thin and whippy, flexible, it waved and wiggled like an antenna, and delivered wickedly precise strokes.

The flexibility of the whipping rod caused it to curl almost caressingly around the ripe plump moons of Lucille's punished buttocks.

But that seeming “caress” was only an illusion, as could be proved by the vicious sound the rod made when it lashed her soft tender bottom flesh.

Lucille's thin shrill shrieks rang in the chamber. Her buttocks were criss-crossed with blight red lines of red where the rod had lashed her.

She scrambled across the chamber, sobbing, her small breasts jiggling. Dr. Serizawa pursued her, his whipping rod finding her bottom time and time again.

It was great fun - for the doctor and his guests.

Lucille fell forward, sprawling on the stone floor. She fell with some impact, since her hands were bound, and could not stop her fall.

Serizawa showed no mercy. Looming over her, he whipped her bottom, slashing stroke after vicious stroke while the girl shrieked and babbled.

Serizawa would not stop, he told her, until she had done as he commanded. Unable to rise, Lucille crawled across the floor, wiggling on her belly like a snake, her pink flesh raw and irritated by the rough stones. She sobbed and squealed. Hunched over, his face shining, Serizawa followed her. The rod curled around her hips when it fell on her ass cheeks.

The long thin tip permitted him to perform some accurate work. Flicking his wrist, he was able to whip the sides of her soft breasts.

The backs of her thighs were striped with red. Serizawa managed to snap the tip against her sensitive sex, forcing shrieks from her.

Lucille at last, after great effort and pain, reached her destination.

She had been commanded to once again, mouth her mother.

Joan was bound in position for it. She stood with her legs spread wide. She bent forward from the waist, while her hands were tied behind her back.

To increase her torment, short wires were bound to her nipple and pussy rings, Each nipple ring was secured to the golden pussy ring on the appropriate side. The twin wires, which were tough and unbreakable, were of such shortness that the captive was forced to hold herself strictly bent forward.

If Joan attempted to straighten out to relieve the aching, cramping tension in her spread legs, which of course were bound and spread-eagled, painful and punishing pressure would pull on her nipples and pussy lips.

Dr. Serizawa stopped whipping Lucille when she reached the feet of her mother. His hand trembled, making the whippy rod waver.

Lucille had approached her mother from behind. The posture in which Joan was bound caused the muscles to stand out on her legs.

Her buttocks were pulled taut and tight. Serizawa gripped Lucille's braids and used them to tug and urge the girl to her knees.

It was no easy feat for Lucille, not with her hands tied behind her back and her body and mind drained from the painful whipping.

She stood on her knees, her wet sobbing face only inches from the ripely rounded ass cheeks of her mother.

Lucille sobbed in sympathy for her mother's torments. Her own bottom burned with lines of fire where she had been whipped with the lash.

Serizawa shoved the girl's face into her mother's buttocks, the impact almost knocking Joan off balance.

Lucille's tortured face, wet with weeping was enveloped with the warm buttocks. The girl's breasts shivered from her weeping. Nurse Michi finally climbed off the toilet seat, filled with the delicious afterglow that Bridget had licked into her pussy.

Michi pulled off her prim pointed nurse's cap and slipped out of her uniform. Naked from the waist up, her amber body was made even more lewd thanks to the brown rubber garter belt and the stockings sheathing her strong legs.

She closed her thighs, rubbing them against the lips of her pussy, which were hot and glowing in a rich, liquid warmth.

Dr. Serizawa was done with whipping the girl - at least, at this moment - but Michi was ready, willing, and delighted to take it up.

Michi went to Sister Miriam. Miriam suffered physical pain from her bondage, and emotional pain from the scenes of sadistic lust surrounding her.

Michi stood with her hands on her hips, critically examining the naked young nun. She ran the whippy rod up and down Miriam's naked front.

Michi placed the rod horizontally under Miriam's breasts and lifted them, then let them fall heavily.

She jabbed the pointed tip of the rod into the softly yielding bosom flesh. She untied the wire loops which circled Miriam's stiff nipples. The nipples had turned almost purple and were swollen and stretched out of shape. The Oriental had to dig her pointed fingernails to free the wire loops from the flesh.

She opened the loops and pulled the crucifix weight from Miriam's abused breasts.

Miriam nearly passed out.

She cried out when Nurse Michi jabbed her swollen sensitive nipples with the tip of the rod. Michi slid the tip of the rod down between Miriam's legs.

Miriam gasped and jerked as Michi poked and prodded her sensitive labial flesh with the stiff tip of the rod.

But Michi lusted for more violent pleasures. She moved behind the nun, taking up a stance and preparing to whip Miriam with the rod.

At the same time, Dr. Serizawa wedged Lucille s tear-stained, shocked face between her mother's fat buttocks, and forced the girl to tongue and kiss Joan's asshole.

What fun! And the party was only beginning!

CHAPTER TEN

The perverted party really got rolling when Sister Anne was wheeled in.

Sister Miriam slumped limply in her suspended bondage, weak and weary and weeping from the whipping Nurse Michi had given her with the rod.

Miriam's backside was striped with thin red lashes from the small of her back down to the middle of her taut and straining thighs.

Her buttocks continued to reflexively twitch and jerk, as though lashed by an invisible whip. Her hips gyrated, making her bottom quiver.

Her arms were pulled by the chain overhead, which was cuffed to her wrists. A dull throbbing pain ached in her armpits and shoulder joints.

Still, she was too weak to rouse herself and stand on her toes, to take some of the pulling pressure off her arms.

What she could not bring herself to do, the arrival of Sister Anne did for her.

Dr. Serizawa had apparently sent for the nun while Miriam was being whipped. Two uniformed orderlies wheeled in the nun.

Sister Anne crouched in naked bondage in a cage on wheels. The cage was a cube of metal bars. Its shape and size were such that Sister Anne could neither stand up, or sit down, but had to crouch in a squatting position.

Anne's hands were cuffed behind her back. She squatted down, her knees spread wide apart, her pussy nakedly exposed.

Her pussy was penetrated - penetrated by the thick dildo which rose vertically from its holder in the floor of the cage.

Sister Anne was long and skinny with a lean, almost boyish build. Her boyish looks were accented by the very short and feathery hair framing her face.

Her breasts were small pert mounds of flesh with sharp pink nipples, nipples which now jutted from the bumps in a state of stiff erection.

Anne's bush was dark brown, full and fleecy. Her pussy was a long narrow cleft in her thin hips, with a pair of fragile pussy lips.

The dildo was inside her, filling her, stretching her sensitive membranes, splitting and spreading her pussy lips.

The dildo was so long that she could not take all of it in there. She squatted on the floor of the cage with the dildo penetrating her.

Most shocking of all, she loved it.

On Sister Anne's fair face was an expression of perverted, unholy lust which Miriam had never seen before.

Despite her bondage, Sister Anne was doing her best to guide her hips up and down, working the dildo around inside her.

She fucked herself on the dildo. Her face was a carved mask of lust. Sweat shimmered on her face. Her deep-set eyes glowed.

She gasped and sobbed as she rocked up and down on the dildo. Its smooth slick surface was smeared and shimmering with her juices.

It fit tightly in her, making lewd, wet, sucking noises as she slid up and down on it.

Two days ago, in the dead of night, Sister Anne had been taken by guards from the cell which she shared with Sister Miriam.

Miriam had not laid eyes on her sister nun until now.

During the time when Sister Anne was absent, she had been taken to the lab and treated with a potent dosage of Adaptamine.

Once again, the powerful mind controlling chemical had proven its worth. Under its influence, Sister Anne became a creature of insatiable lusts.

Now she was only Anne. Her holy orders, her vocation, her vows of chastity, were as dead to her as the dinosaurs.

The orderlies wheeled the cage to the center of the room. They tried not to stare at the bizarre scenes taking place all around them.

They were quite disturbed. An odd and threatening event had taken place.

Matsu - a dull janitor who had been as placid as a grazing cow - had gone insane and had run amok in a murderous rage.

He had used a meat cleaver on three soldiers before he was gunned down. There was no reason for his astounding crack-up.

There was a reason - Matsu had been bitten by the escaped rat in the lab - the rat whose brain had become unhinged by Adaptamine.

Dr. Serizawa didn't know it, but there was a deadly flaw in his drug. Over a period of a few months, whatever creature which had been treated with Adaptamine would go berserk and be seized by a violent homicidal rage.

This startling development was unknown to Serizawa. It would remain unknown, since the rat, which had been the first to suffer the symptoms of madness, was the rat which broke free from its cage in the lab.

It was the rat which had infected Matsu with its madness by its bite, before the janitor had killed it, not knowing he was doomed by its poison bite.

But all this was unknown to Dr. Serizawa, and would remain so.

The rat which would have alerted him to the time bomb ticking in the drug, and all who had taken it - rats or humans - that rat had been disposed of by the janitor.

The rat which Matsu substituted in the cage, the healthy rat which had never been treated with Adaptamine and so would develop no madness - had fooled Dr, Serizawa, who had no idea that the substitution had ever taken place.

After all, even to a scientist, one rat looks very much like another.

It was just a matter of time - a few weeks, perhaps a month at the most - before the captive women who had been drugged with Adaptamine - would suffer the same seizures of madness that had gripped the escaped rat and Matsu.

Each seemingly submissive slave girl was a human time bomb, set to explode in the near future, into a rage of superhuman strength and murderous intent.

But for now, neither Serizawa nor any of his associates suspected the doom which was poised over all their heads like the axe of the executioner.

Instead, Dr. Serizawa was triumphantly demonstrating another success in slave training as he released Anne - no longer Sister Anne - from her cage.

He untied her hands, the cliffs slipping from her slender wrists. Anne hissed with rising pleasure. She chafed her wrists, rubbing circulation into them.

She straightened up, rising up off the dildo whose length was thickly greased with the secretions from her pussy.

Her pussy lips pressed shut after the knobbed dildo head came out of her.

Anne climbed out of the cage, her movements unpleasantly boneless and reptilian. Her eyes burned with lusts which no man could satisfy.

She moved her head jerkily, darting it this way and that. Lust was set into the very bones of her face, which were sharp and jutting, with the pale skin, shining with cold sweat, stretched tight across them.

Her tongue darted out like a snake's tongue, licking her thin lips.

Anne was guided to Sister Miriam. Anne shivered with hot pleasure as she set eyes on the nubile and naked nun bound and spread in suspended bondage.

This sight - the vision of Anne staring at her with the same depraved lust which she had seen in her Oriental captors - unhinged Miriam.

It worked where the pain hadn't. She babbled as she sobbed, her stiff-nippled breasts bobbing as her body shook from weeping.

Anne slipped lithely down on her hands and knees, her ripely curved rear raised high as she slithered over to Miriam.

Anne's face was poised over Sister Miriam's bare foot, bound by the ankle to the iron ring set in the floor. Anne grinned.

Sticking out her tongue, she lovingly licked Miriam's feet. She took each tiny toe in her mouth and sucked it wetly and sloppily.

She dabbed her tongue between the toes, while Miriam sobbed hysterically.

Anne touched her tongue to Miriam's shapely calf and licked her way up the leg, rising off her belly and up on her knees as she did so.

Now Anne's face was level with Sister Miriam's naked crotch, where silky black fur partially covered dusky rose colored pussy lips.

Anne took hold of Sister Miriam's quivering hips, her long fingers clutching the fleshy pink hips, sinking into them like the talons of some great bird of prey.

Sister Miriam's sobbing reached a high-pitched hysterical wail.

Anne's hot sweet breath rustled through Miriam's bush, and played over her quivering pussy lips. Anne's mouth watered.

She nuzzled Sister Miriam's pussy, rubbing her face against the pussy lips and the bush. She pressed her lips on the slitted cleft.

Again and again she covered the labia with hot wet kisses. Her tongue rolled over the tender folds of the pussy lips, licking and lapping.

Sister Miriam grunted as though struck in the stomach, when Anne suddenly lanced her long probing tongue between her pussy lips.

Miriam's pussy was pink, tight, and hot. Anne's lips massaged the pussy lips as she darted her tongue inside, rolling it over the membranes.

Anne's tongue was devilish. Sister Miriam choked with horror when she realized that warm moisture was oozing from the pores of her pussy membranes.

Anne licked up the wetness and lapped up and down. She rolled her tongue to the top of the quivering slit and probed for the clitoris.

Sister Miriam's clitoris was a perfect little pearl of throbbing pink flesh, which throbbed even more heavily when the tongue caressed it.

Despite herself, Sister Miriam burned between her legs, burned with fires of lust which rose up into her and swept her morality away.

Anne's lips licked, her tongue caressed, her head bobbed. Sister Miriam rocked her hips in response to the rhythms of the thrusting tongue.

Dr. Serizawa observed with satisfaction as Anne mouthed her sister nun.

Dr. Serizawa was due for a nasty surprise when things would go wrong with the Adaptamine subjects.

But that time was still in the future, and will serve as the subject for one of the most startlingly perverse tales to come out of the War Horror's secret files.

At this moment, the insidious Dr. Serizawa was in full control. He smirked with satisfaction as he put the slaves through their submissive paces.

With Anne hard at work with her hot sucking mouth on Sister Miriam's dripping pussy, Serizawa turned his attention back to Joan and her daughter.

Lucille's face was pressed tightly between her mother's plump buttocks. Her tongue tip licked and rimmed the wrinkled folds of her asshole.

Serizawa pulled the girl's face out from between the ass cheeks. Lucille was placed on the opposite side, with her mouth on her mother's pussy.

The rings piercing the pussy lips were cold and hard against Lucille's red wet face. The pussy lips were pulled back to expose naked membranes.

Lucille submissively parted her pretty pink lips and stuck out her tongue as far as it would go. She lightly lapped at her mother's pussy.

Lucille licked her as gently as she could get away with, since she did not want to startle Joan into suddenly pulling her nipple and pussy rings tight by any unexpected movements.

Minister Tono pulled his stiff penis as he watched Anne mouth Miriam to a shattering climax. His cock burned with intense red fires. Miriam tossed back her head and shrieked as she climaxed.

Anne's mouth was pressed to Miriam's pussy when the sister climaxed, so she felt the convulsions of the orgasming membranes.

Minister Tono could no longer restrain his lust. He signaled to Nurse Michi to prepare the young bound nun for his pleasure.

Sister Miriam was drained from the force of her orgasm, and the betrayal of her body, which had passionately responded to Anne's lesbian lust.

Miriam's pussy was dripping with saliva and secretions. She was released from her cuffs and chains, untied from the rings in the floor, and carried to a bed.

She lay on her back, covering her haunted face with her arm. But the rest of her luscious body was beautifully, nakedly exposed.

Minister Tono threw off his robe, getting naked. He threw himself down on the naked nun, who gasped from the pain of her beaten buttocks.

Her bottom burned, sending aching waves of heat through her. The throbbing mixed with her heated pussy, which still seethed from Anne's mouthing.

Miriam whimpered, but did not resist as Tono stretched his hard naked body on top of hers. He made free with her naked breasts.

As for Dr. Serizawa, someday he would get his comeuppance - but not today.

The scenes of perverted lust he had arranged for this entertainment were nothing compared to the orgies of pain and pleasure he was already planning.

74

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