The hideous memory of Jason’s clamping black thighs… the way he raised her hindquarters as if she were a toy... the torment of Miss Judith’s strap... all were still fierce upon her. She felt sick to the depths of her soul. And the horror of her situation was like a crushing weight upon her.For, after what had already happened... what was happening... she realised all this was no ‘bluff’ designed toscare her. Not something temporary either. No brief nightmare.This was harsh reality.Absolutely for real!In some unbelievable way (outside all normal credibility) Quentin had managed to have her a*****ed and transported to... to... this hell ship. A place devised and designed by a monster and directed by devils!Impossible really... yet true.For, though she might have wished to, Julia could no longer deny the evidence of her own eyes. Even less her own feelings.How could she deny the sight of that poor naked womancreature led on all fours, on the end of a chain by that hideous brute negro?How. He knew what to do. He thumber the remote control and the gooks butt plug whirred, it contracted and then it fell out. Yards of vile smelling brown shit erupted from Osama’s ass in a continuous coil like some evil snake mixing with the blood and piss. “No!” he screamed and cried like a baby.After an hour or so some guards dragged Osama from his stinking hole of a cell, they took him to the medical centre where a couple of helicopter mechanics and a Sous Chef tried to save Osama’s cock. They gave up and grafted his cock skin over a savaloy sausage and stitched it and his ball sac to his forehead. They sort of fixed up where his cock used to be and put one of Andy’s radio control piss control valves in the hole to stem the flow of piss and let the area scab over.They sedated Osama a couple of times with a baseball bat and gave him a couple of hours rest before they had him write a full confession, details of his contacts, PIN numbers and everything and when he clammed up it was.
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