Trophy 16

He only thrust his hips out, offering her more of his pulsing shaft for her to work on. Slowly, she obeyed his implicit request, swallowing first the knob, then what stretched behind it. Her tongue probing ahead of her greedy mouth, slathering his hot flesh was though to lubricate it for her narrow throat. As though her body could possibly deny what was being fed to it now.

He couldn’t tell if he was driving into her or she was collecting him, but he went into her mouth and throat until he felt her lips settle against his pubic hairs and realized she’d taken him to the balls. It was insane, an impossible spectacle, seeing anyone take all of him, much less someone outwardly so classy. And yet every inch he had was out of sight, hidden in Bella’s eager mouth. With her nose buried in his abs, she hummed happily, her body rocking back and forth with the bobs her head made on his hilted phallus.

Frank clapped both hands to her head and suffered happily from the most torturous of pleasures. On and on Bella worked, eyes glazed over as she too lost herself in their communion. Him being so hard, so huge, made her the most receptive, the best cock holster a woman could be. And he could see in how she quivered that this was one lady who loved being a cock holster, a great cock holster. She liked big dicks, but more than that, she loved being able to handle all of them. It was unutterable delight for both of them.

“You want my cum?” Frank groaned, knowing he could not contain himself any longer. “You’re going to get it!”

His muscles heaved and he only had time to cry out before he exploded his seed deep down Bella’s satin throat.

He held tightly to her head as he vented all the passion she’d inscribed in him, making sure she was justly rewarded for her efforts.

It wasn’t so much an orgasm as a revelation. Frank knew he kept himself tightly wound, but he didn’t know how taut he was until he totally unkinked. It happened in stages, the pressure going down with each rope of ejaculate he force-fed his paramour. She gurgled and sputtered and gulped, accepting it all—and what she couldn’t accept packed her mouth and emerged along the sides of his cock, to smear its way down her chin and even drip onto her pillowy breasts.

“Yeahh,” Frank husked… every last drop of it… all out of him and into her… or at least marking her. And he was happy to have her marked.

“Guhk! Guhk! Mmm! Mmmrrmrm… ggkk!” Bella’s moans, gagged by his ejaculating cock, were music to his ears.

And then the little sputters and swallows died down. He was drained, the emptiness haunting but gratifying, cathartic even. He’d been a pressure cooker, on the verge of explosion for years, and what Bella had swallowed was just the relief he needed to ease the needle out of the red and far to the left side of the dial.

He felt all but addicted—enthralled by this sensation and the fact that it wasn’t over yet. There was still pressure to vent, a little more room to clear out of himself where he’d once been all tension, knot on top of knot on top of knot.

He didn’t let Bella continue to mouth him. That was satisfying herself, driving him back up the slope and out of this golden mean of control and looseness. Instead, he took his cock from between her lips and ran it over her face. Masking her with the fluid mixture of his own unswallowed cum and her saliva.

He took hold of her hair and wiped from his length what he couldn’t deposit on her face. She didn’t end up looking as elegant as she once had, but Bella damn sure looked like she’d been his. Living proof of all the strain he’d left behind.

And like she knew what he was thinking, Bella opened her mouth wide and showed him more evidence. Pure pink palate, tongue, and throat. All he’d deposited there had been wiped away, weighted down by the sheer immensity of Frank’s release until it sank into Bella’s stomach. He wondered how filling it was; would it be hours before Bella needed another meal?

Bella was all but asleep after that. Her eyes closed, her mouth open, as though in one last attempt to solicit Frank’s member. Frank was tempted enough to stay locked with Bella in this pose of appeasement until the need to urinate was too strong to ignore. He got up, pissed into Bella’s bucket, then wet a rag at the water cooler to rinse Bella’s face and body before his cum dried.

It occurred to him he would have to come up with a better means of bathing her. A tub, maybe, and soap, and a hose so she didn’t have to choose between washing her hands and having drinking water.

For now, he took it on himself to bathe her, and as he did, Frank planned his next move. Bella’s thought had been a good one. Pinning the kidnapping on the Somalis would leave enough wiggle room on the real culprits to kick everyone’s paranoia into gear.

He would go to an antique store and find himself a typewriter first. Modern printers all marked their paper with unique identifiers, invisible to the naked eye and catnip to the authorities. Typewriters didn’t have that problem. He could already imagine the ransom note he’d type.

VINCENZO BELUCCI, I HAVE YOUR WIFE. I AM WILLING TO TRADE FOR HER. TEN MILLION DOLLARS IS THE PRICE OF HER SAFE RETURN. I WILL GIVE YOU 48 HOURS TO ASSEMBLE THE MONEY IN TWENTIES, FIFTIES, AND HUNDREDS, ALL NONSEQUENTIAL BILLS. HAVE THE MONEY PLACED IN AN ALLIGATOR SKIN LUGGAGE SET AND AWAIT MY INSTRUCTIONS. I WILL CALL YOU FROM YOUR WIFE’S PHONE. DO NOT CONTACT THE AUTHORITIES. IF YOU DO NOT PAY, I WILL MAIL YOU PIECES OF YOUR WIFE UNTIL YOU COMPLY OR I RUN OUT OF WIFE.

YOURS TRULY, THE KIDNAPPER.

He’d take a Polaroid of Bella to send along with it.

A dark smile twisted Frank’s mouth. He wondered if he should only shoot Bella’s face or show her husband what she was wearing.