The Dark Frontier A. Decker (i like reading TXT) 📖

he would have found the experience intensely exciting. But the hospitality of Breitner and his friends had successfully instilled a withering fear into his body. And it showed. Helga took his flaccid apology in her hands, stroked it and coaxed it. But it was unmoved. He heard Maria snigger. Then her friend cupped it in her hands, put her mouth to it, teased it with her tongue. And all the while Frank felt like an uncooperative patient waiting with embarrassment for the doctor’s examination to end.

“Looks like I was right girls,” said Wolfgang. There was a disturbing relish in his voice. “What do you reckon, Horst? You think we might stand a better chance?”

“It’s worth a try,” replied Horst, who at last appeared to show a genuine interest in his charge, as he gripped Frank’s shoulders in a tight embrace. It was an interest that filled Frank with trepidation and disgust. And the demonstrative display that Horst made of his eagerness was met with the audible approval of both Wolfgang and the girls. Maria’s squeals of delight were quite distinctive as Horst pushed Frank face down onto the bed and used his knees to force his legs as wide apart as they would go.

“Take a look at this, girls.” The lust in Horst’s voice turned Frank’s stomach, but he was pinned down and utterly helpless. “Clean and fresh as a daisy in spring.”

“What are you going to do with it?” Traces of Maria’s giggle still lingered in her question. “You’re not going to stick that in it, are you?”

Horst gave out a chilling laugh. Frank sensed both curiosity and disbelief in Maria’s question.

The disbelief part of her reaction struck a chord in his swelling, swirling desperation, which had him fondly imagine that at least there was someone who was on his side – a pathetic straw in view of the vast flooding tide of humiliation that swept over him. He felt rough fingers run their own excited curiosity along his perineum.

Frank looked up to see Maria still standing over them. The expression of amusement had given way to nervousness, but her eyes continued to betray a lively curiosity in what was being done with him. The incredulity in her voice that he had clung to was nothing as compared with his own. He was on the brink of vomiting. His heart raced out of control. He sensed his entire body moisten with sweat as Horst came down on him, breathing his tooth decay over Frank’s shoulder, as he brought the hard, hot flesh of his prick creeping up from beneath. Frank tensed.

“Shit!” Horst suddenly relaxed his designs on Frank and eased back. The sense of reprieve was immense. And premature. “It’s too early in the day for deflowering such a tight little cunt. Let’s make the virgin do his share of the work.”

He stood up, pulling Frank to his feet with the help of Wolfgang. Together they instantly forced him onto his knees and brought him face to face with the ugly expressionless ogre of Horst’s warped libido.

“Suck on this, my little virgin.”

Utter nausea restrained him from making even the remotest gesture in that direction. He felt painfully mocked by Horst’s apparent pride and joy that glared at him in its aggressive silence. He was riveted firmly into place by his disgust. And showed no sign of moving one way or the other – until a sharp blow to the side of his face that sent him reeling to the right.

“You heard what he said,” growled Wolfgang, who then kicked him viciously in the thigh as he added: “Get to it.”

Frank dragged himself back up onto his knees. He knew there was no way he could avoid their sport with him. He had to get it over with. Spontaneously he took the thing in his right hand – perhaps just to get the feel of it, to test it. The familiarity surprised him. Familiar because it could have been his own. And it was this that enabled him, by closing his eyes, to overcome his deep nausea and repulsion. With his eyes still firmly shut, imagining that – by some impossible contortion – it was his own, he placed it in his mouth and worked on it with all the clumsiness of a novice. The bizarre idea that it might be himself he was playing with triggered a disturbing reciprocation that had him visibly excited.

And the more electrified this reaction, the more real became his fantasy – much to the amusement of the onlookers, who saw in this a vindication of their judgement that, deep down, he preferred Horst to Helga. Not that this spoiled the girls’ enjoyment of the sport. Frank caught their giggles clearly through all the foggy haze of the depravity – and the sudden gleeful roar of laughter when Horst’s pleasure manifested itself in full. The hot sickly sensation that hit the back of Frank’s throat hurled him back from the fantasy with a force that had him coughing and spluttering, choking on the floor, in utter degradation.

“Ach! Scheisse!” he cried. The words crawled with abject disgust.

He felt more wretched and tarnished than a disease-ridden dog. And was treated no better: the boot caught him square in the face, instantly washing away the sour pungency of Horst with his own sweet-tasting blood. It was impossible to count the number of teeth swimming around in this bath. And any interest in such detail was quickly kicked out of him by a second heavy boot to the solar plexus.

“No one does that to me and gets away with it.” Horst barked. “Come on, Wolf. Let’s get this filth out of here.”

Frank felt each one grab him under an arm and haul him to his feet. He was barely conscious, but was aware of being dragged out through the door and bundled down the stairs. His battered, naked body slipped headfirst to the bottom and sank in a heap beside the dining-room door through which he had been so