THE PRIZE Read online

  "Normally I'd say that I hoped you had a good flight but in your case I don't give a damn," she said to her passengers.

  The Prince merely grinned. "And normally I expect you would accompany your guests to a hotel where you would show them some more hospitality," he replied.

  "You've had all you're going to get," Ayesha told him.

  "Ah, now there's where you're wrong." The Prince turned and clicked his fingers as a black limo pulled up at the foot of the stairs and two very large, dark-suited men climbed out. They came up the steps at a run and Ayesha's stomach did a backflip. All of a sudden she remembered that he was, after all, a real Prince and in his own country was absolute ruler. Her flippancy didn't seem quite as good an idea as it had a few seconds before and she turned to shout for the flight crew. But one of the Prince's men was inside the plane by then and his huge hand was across her mouth while his other arm encircled her waist and lifted her effortlessly. Then he turned and before she fully realised what was going on, Ayesha was being carried down the steps towards the waiting limousine.

  Chapter 5

  She kicked and wriggled as best she could but with no apparent effort the man bundled her into the back of the stretch limo. She was thrown onto the seat opposite the door and by the time she had struggled up the Prince and the Englishman were entering, followed by the big man who had thrown her into the car. She opened her mouth to yell for help but the heavy clunk with which the door closed made her realise that there really wasn't any point.

  "You're probably thinking that you're going to be tied up and gagged," the Prince said as the car moved off, "but if you think about it, there's absolutely no need now we're clear of the airfield and your friends on the plane. This is a small country and I rule it absolutely, so if you made a break for it, where would you go? There's not even a consulate. One phone call from me and the whole populace would be looking for you. So relax. You might even go on doing what Sir John paid you to do, there's a cocktail cabinet beside you."

  "What are you going to do to me?" Ayesha tried and failed to control the quaver in her voice.

  "I don't think you'd believe me if I told you," the Prince said.

  "But the really sweet thing about it is that in a couple of months' time, you'll actually be grateful to us," the Englishman put in.

  Ayesha felt pinned like a butterfly under the intent gazes of the men. She was desperately afraid and had never felt so vulnerable in her life.

  "Now I think you should serve us each a drink and then offer Mohammed here some oral relief. Carrying struggling girls about really turns him on."

  Ayesha's mind raced, she realised that if she did as these men wanted then maybe, just maybe, a way out of this situation might present itself.

  She sighed and turned her attention to the drinks. Once the Englishman was settled with a gin and tonic, the Prince with a glass of orange juice and crushed ice, she turned her attention to the big man beside her. He had sat completely impassively thus far, his massive hands resting on his knees. Ayesha looked at him, aware that the other men were watching her. Her eyes travelled along his thick thighs to his groin and she couldn't help but wonder what his cock would be like. He was one of the biggest men she had ever seen, let alone had sex with. She slipped off the seat and turned to kneel between his powerful legs. Still his face betrayed no expression at all, his dark eyes just stared at her. She ran her hands along the tops of his thighs until she reached the zip of his trousers and felt for his cock through the material. Behind her she could feel that the other men had relaxed now that she was on her knees and about to service a man.

  Her fingers quested and explored, establishing the outlines of the erection. It was unbelievably thick, not exceptionally long but it would stretch her mouth to its fullest extent. Almost eagerly she undid the zip and fumbled in the warmth inside until she was able to free the massive shaft. The sheer width of the shining helm was daunting as she stared at it, her fingers seemingly dwarfed as they stroked it and traced the deep trench of the meatus. The man gave a contented sigh and settled back to bask in her caresses and Ayesha licked her lips a little nervously before tentatively leaning forward. As her face came nearer to the monster she stuck out her tongue and gave him an experimental lick, he tasted strong but clean enough and she ran her hands down his shaft until she could cup the ball sac and gently stroke the balls themselves. It was a feeling she had always enjoyed and it encouraged her to lean further forwards and take the plunge. She opened her mouth as wide as she could and pressed it down against the smooth flesh of the helm making sure her lips covered her teeth. For a panic-inducing second the cock widened as she pushed down but she managed to relax her jaws enough to make them give just a little bit more and then he was inside her, flattening her tongue under him and forcing her to breathe through her nose as she took every last inch she could.

  "That's not bad," she heard the Englishman say. "It takes some of them a month or two before they can take him."

  Bizarrely, Ayesha took some pride in the man's comments and began to move her head in a slow nodding fashion, letting the helm of the cock lodge up against the back of her mouth but not daring to let it go any further.

  "She's not making any attempt to throat him," the Prince observed.

  "That does take some doing to be fair to her," the Englishman said. "Mohammed, see how she takes you in her cunt."

  Ayesha had no time to react before a masive hand seized her hair and pulled her upwards. The cock slipped from her lips and she was able to scream as she felt her hair pulled savagely. She reached up and tried to unbend the fingers but they were like steel bars and while she was struggling he used his free hand to reach out and rip her skirt from her. It was done so quickly and with such strength that she was left gasping and that gave him time to do the same to the fragile wisp of her thong. For a moment he simply held her while Ayesha still tried to alleviate the pain of his grip in her hair, aware that he was feasting his eyes on her vulva but unable to shield herself. Then he smiled slowly, his teeth white against the dark skin of his face.

  "Turn round and sit on it," he told her.

  "Better do what he says," the Prince advised her. "Otherwise he might try your arse for size."

  Ayesha whimpered in terror at that idea and as the grip in her hair slackened she turned and straddled the man's legs then reached down between her legs to hold the thick shaft as she lowered herself carefully. For a few moments she rubbed his helm against her clitoris, trying to arouse herself and lubricate but it was slow work as she was facing the Prince and the Englishman who were watching her with that strange, critical, cold manner. But at last the prospect of having the massive shaft inside her worked its inevitable magic and she felt her insides turn warm and moist. She shifted slightly and lodged him at her entrance then lowered herself some more. She felt her labia part easily enough and the helm press at her entrance but it was only when she abandoned herself to putting her whole weight on it that she felt herself widen sufficiently to allow him entry. She couldn't restrain the groan of pleasure that erupted from deep in her throat as she felt her tunnel stretched and stimulated like never before, caring nothing for anyone watching her Ayesha surrendered, threw her head back and closed her eyes to concentrate on the exquisite feelings inside her. Using every last ounce of strength in her thighs she lifted herself and sank back down slowly, time and again until at last she felt Mohammed's hands grip her round the hips and hold her down, then he began to thrust his own pelvis forwards and upwards while she ground herself down ferociously, determined not to miss out on the looming orgasm. The man behind her suddenly emitted a throaty roar and Ayesha herself cried out in triumph as she peaked just as his ejaculate pumped into her.

  Almost at the same time as his final spurt erupted into her, he pushed her off him to sprawl on the floor while he zipped himself up. Suddenly Ayesha realised what a shameless display she had just made of herself and flushed angrily as she struggled up only to remember that her skirt and knic
kers had been ripped to shreds.

  "Don't worry, you won't need them where you're going," the Englishman said as he watched her try and hide herself with just the tail of her shirt. "Mohammed finish the job."

  Mohammed reached for her but Ayesha shrank back. "Okay, I'll do it myself," she muttered sullenly and under the watchful gazes of the three men she completed her strip. By the time she was naked and had had the humiliating experience of having to wipe between her legs with her shirt or risk oozing sperm on the expensive carpet, the car stopped. The Englishman jerked his thumb at the door and, clutching her ruined clothes to her chest as her sole protection Ayesha stepped out into the hot sun. Ahead of her was a wide flight of steps which led up to great double doors guarded by two men in traditional robes who nevertheless carried machine pistols. Squinting in the glare after the subdued light of the car, Ayesha could still make out that she was standing in a courtyard at the front entrance of the grandest palace she had ever seen. It seemed to stretch for miles to right and left and rose three graceful storeys above her. She jumped as the Englishman slapped her bare rump and then took her by the arm to lead her up the stairs.

  The guards at the doors showed no surprise at Ayesha's state and the Englishman led her into a huge, marble-floored hall, the Prince following close behind. From a door at the far end a figure emerged and approached the little group. As it advanced across the chequered expanse of the floor, Ayesha saw it was a tall black man dressed in the flowing robes she had seen on the guards.

  "Your Highness!" the man exclaimed, smiling broadly. "It is good to see you home again!"

  "Ah, Mahmut," the Prince replied. "Take this new acquisition down to the guards' mess and have them make her welcome. Then clean her up and bring her to the Music Room."

  Mahmut took her by the arm and marched her off, she craned her head round to plead but already the two men had turned away and were moving towards a flight of stairs. Mahmut walked swiftly and Ayesha had to trot to keep up, her heels tapping on the marble. She was led through the door Mahmut had emerged from and along the airy corridor behind it. On her left she could see a large sort of atrium with lawns and fountains, but for the moment she was destined for a door on the right. It opened into a room which had sofas ranged round its walls. A large television dominated one corner and there were a lot of men, dressed in robes as well, lounging, watching it. They were obviously of different racial origins and Mahmut used English to address them as he pushed her roughly into the middle of the floor and tore her clothes from her grasp. She tried to cover herself but he pulled her arms up above her head.

  "His Highness bids you welcome a newcomer among us!" he announced to cheers and whistles of approval.

  Ayesha was by then feeling the effects of the traumatic sequence of events and could only groan in despair. She knew well enough that she was in for a gang bang. Three had been the highest number of men she had ever taken in succession before but here there were more than she dared count and to make matters worse, after the two men on the plane and Mohammed in the car her vagina was stinging and burning already.

  But Mahmut slapped her rump smartly and simply left her, naked in the middle of the room. Instantly she was surrounded by men who jostled and crowded her, hands reached for her breasts and tried to force their way between her tightly clenched thighs. She gritted her teeth as the hands at her breasts began to tweak her nipples and knead the flesh.

  "These are good tits!" one voice said. "I bet she'll get lots of whip on them!"

  "And the arse on it!" Another voice chimed in as hands clenched in her buttockflesh. "They'll make a nice pillow for when you're buggering her up to your balls."

  Helplessly she was jerked about as the explorations and coarse comments continued. Eventually the hands managed to prise her thighs apart and fingers insinuated themselves into her cleft, teasing her clitoris.

  She reached down. "No, please. No!" she murmured, knowing it would be in vain but trying to retain a last vestige of dignity before her body betrayed her and she became the whore Sir John employed to entertain his clients. Someone wrenched her head sideways and crushed his mouth to hers as the fingers between her legs finally penetrated and forced a groan from her throat. The man kissing her kept her so long she went dizzy as hands were withdrawn from her cunt and others replaced them and the mauling of her breasts continued unabated.

  She staggered and would have fallen but the sheer press of bodies around her prevented that and instead she felt herself being carefully lowered down onto her back. She knew that her only defence was complete co-operation and as soon as she was lying down she spread her legs wide. At last the man kissing her withdrew and she was able to look up at the ring of men who stood over her. They had discarded the robes and were naked. For a second; a kind of calm before the storm, Ayesha had time to take in the stiffly jutting cocks which would shortly demand entry to her. They were of all colours, lengths, widths and types and she found herself eyeing them hungrily. Arousal and fear were vying for control of her body and Ayesha finally gave in to arousal as the first man dropped to his knees between her legs and stretched his length on top of her as his cock speared into her with no difficulty.

  To start with some of the men held her arms and legs but soon it became clear that she was putting up no resistance at all. Quite the reverse in fact. After the second man had ploughed her and then splashed his sperm over her stomach as he wanked himself to a climax, she found she was reaching out for more cocks with her hands even as she was arching her back to bury another one deeper inside her. After the third man had come inside her and two more had let her masturbate them to climaxes, someone suggested they move her onto a table. She felt herself being picked up by strong hands and realised that she had become a simple receptacle for sperm. Her hands were sticky with the stuff and she could feel cold clammy trickles of it finding their way down between her buttocks. But she had no time to reflect any further as the breath was knocked from her as the men slung her carelessly onto a hard wooden surface and then turned her onto her face. She realised what was coming next and began to struggle, but it was far too late by then and anyway the men seemed to enjoy having to hold onto her thrashing arms and legs. One of them held her head down by gripping the back of her neck with a terrifyingly strong hand and she felt her legs drawn inexorably apart. The sheer number of men who might want to take her anally frightened her but she retained enough sense to realise that the more she struggled the worse it would be and so she let herself go limp even as she felt the first blunt shape nestle between her buttocks and position itself against her anus. Hands gripped her hips and then the first push came. She felt herself give way and allow the cock into her, rounding her lower back and bearing down to smoothe the entry.

  "Good girl." An American accented voice from behind her complimented her. "I ain't the first she's taken up here boys," the voice went on and then the man sighed as his pelvis came to rest against Ayesha's buttocks and he achieved full penetration.

  "It's a nice tight fit though," he commented as he began to thrust and withdraw. She groaned as he drove in to the hilt and the grip on her neck was released. She turned her head and saw another erect cock swaying just beside her face. It was one which had already been sunk into her as the tempting purple helm and the red, vein-knotted shaft were glistening with her juices and its own spend. Ayesha twisted her torso and while she was jerked back and forth by the pummelling she was taking in her rear, she managed to get her mouth over the smooth dome and begin to lick up the pungent tasting discharge. There was laughter and some cheers as she signalled her intention to resume full participation in the proceedings. Male hands grabbed her hands and guided them to still more rampantly erect cocks even as she ducked her head almost down into the man's pubic hair and she felt the shaft in her mouth swell and harden even more in preparation for its climax.

  Behind her she heard the man who was shafting her rectum give a roar of delight and she felt him begin to pump. But she was more concerned t
o get the full taste of the man who was beginning to erupt in her mouth. She pulled off him a little way to give herself room to retain some of his sperm on her tongue and savour it fully before swallowing. The mews of pleasure she gave out around the pumping and jerking cock drew fresh laughter from the men awaiting their turns but she was past caring and simply tried to hold as much sperm as she could in her mouth so that when the cock was finally pulled clear of her lips, all the men could see how reluctant she was to lose a drop of his issue.

  "Come on, you whore," one man said. "Let's see how much you've got in there!"

  Realising that there was going to be no shortage of sperm in the immediate future, Ayesha sacrificed swallowing that load and instead made a show of sensuously pursing her lips and pushing with her tongue so that she made the thick, milky fluid ooze out.

  The show spurred the men on, the cocks in her hands began to pump, splashes of their come landing on her shoulders and back. Someone new rammed themselves into her back passage while her head was dragged round further and another thick shaft drove in for her throat. That time she was allowed to swallow, and the next, and the one after that.

  Ayesha sank into a kind of trance as she was pulled this way and that to present her various passages for the use of whoever wanted them. Her vagina became completely numb, her anus stung and burned terribly as it was stretched wide again and again under the repeated assaults. Her jaws ached from being constantly open to suck on one cock after another and even her wrists ached from masturbating so many men. Vaguely she was aware that her face, her back, her thighs, her breasts were slick and soaked with sperm. She had never had so much of the stuff and though she knew she should have been disgusted, furious, humiliated somehow she couldn't be. She had come several times to start with but then she had gone into some kind of autopilot and experienced intense pleasure which bordered on orgasm but which didn't quite tip over into full-blown climax.