Feature Writer: Jason Lancing


Published: 25.08.2021 / Mr Double Sex Stories

Story Codes: Nuns, Rape, Rituals

The Spanish Inquisitors 6


Dolores lay in the corner screaming, crying, beating her fists on the hard floor. The tiny cell that was her kennel was filled with her tearful moans. Helplessly Carlos Suanzes stood and watched. For one of the few times in his life, the hardened Communist didn’t know what to do.

“They captured him. Those fucking Fascists took Andres,” she bawled, tears flooding down her cheeks. “How could you let it happen, Carlos? How could you let them capture my master?”

“It’s a chance we all take, Lola,” he whispered uncertainly.

For the first time in years the young revolutionary felt tenderness and compassion in his heart. Not just love for a cause but a person. Quietly he knelt beside her and fondly took the naked child in his arms. Spontaneously he caressed one of her large dangling boobs and was pleased to feel how firm and warm it was.

“Lola, get hold of yourself,” he urged sympathetically. “Andres was sent behind the lines as a spy and was captured. It happens. There was nothing we could do. Our people there are trying to get him out, to rescue him.”

“Will they, Carlos? Will they?”

“Well . … “sighed the young man heavily. “Lola, you must be brave. I doubt they’ll succeed.”

“Then let me go,” the child moaned, looking into his face. Suddenly the tears had stopped and her deep brown eyes were all earnestness. “Let me go behind the lines and try to save him.”

“But,. . . ” hemmed the Communist. He was startled by her proposal. The little girl had matured in the last year with them. Now sixteen she’d seen and experienced a great deal. Yet slowly he recalled that as fond as everyone was of her, Andre’s beautiful little bitch, she was still a prisoner.

“Please, Carlos,” Dolores continued to beg until the toughened revolutionary gave his consent to let her go. The teenager was overjoyed and they made the arrangements for her to leave that evening. She would go by the bus to the lines, be taken by a guide to Burgos where they thought Andres was being held. She was given the name of their underground contact and she would work with him. Not once did it occur to her she’d be near Pamplona and that her father might still be there.

The trip was difficult and dangerous, but Dolores never thought of it. Her mind was only on finding Andres. In Burgos she was taken to the home of Fernando Fernandez, their chief agent there, where she rested at last.

Senor Fernandez was a man trusted by the Republicans, who had often in the past displayed his bravery and dedication. But it had been over a year since the Civil War had begun. The north had been secured by the Fascists and they were gaining everywhere. Many staunch Republicans in the occupied regions had seen the handwriting on the wall and done what they could to make their own position secure. Fernandez was one of them.

Not more than an hour after her guide had left there was a knock on Senor Fernandez’ door. Four Fascist soldiers entered and Dolores again found herself a captive.

“You betrayed me, Fernando,” she screamed bitterly at her false host as she was being dragged away. “You betrayed me. You said you would help me find Andres.”

“And so I have, Lola,” smiled the treacherous man confidently. “He is being held at the castle of the Grand Inquisitor-the chief interrogationist for the Fascists. You are being taken there also.”

The little girl was too upset by her capture to notice the rough and often lewd handling she received from the soldiers. And more than that she was distressed by the thought that now she would not be able to rescue Andres. She had failed. She hardly noticed the huge old castle into which she was taken. Though long abandoned the large fort had been made serviceable for temporary use.

The guards had to drag her down the long wide stone corridor where they shoved her through a tall doorway and closed the heavy oak door behind her. Except for the light of an open fire the room was dark. She could barely make out the figure of a man seated behind a large old-fashioned table.

“Are you the so-called Grand Inquisitor?” asked Dolores curtly. Angered by her betrayal and failure she found herself abnormally bold. “You have no right to bring me here. It is you who have started the revolution. You who have betrayed the Republic and Spain.”

“Yes, I am the Inquisitor,” responded a deep voice softly.

Dolores opened her mouth to lash out with more verbal abuse when suddenly she stopped. That voice-she knew it. Futilely she strained her eyes to peer through the darkness.

“Daddy?” she whispered at last in a timid child’s voice.

“Yes, Dolores. It has been a long time.”

“Oh, daddy,” she cried almost hysterically, “oh, daddy, what they’ve done to me.” Tears in her eyes she ran toward the dark figure behind the table and threw herself into his lap. Burying her face in his shoulder as she had often done as a child she wept without restraint.

“So they call you, Lola now?” her father said after awhile. “And you have changed.” Meaningfully he stroked her hair and touched the coarse brown shirt and trousers in which she was dressed.

“I’m so glad I’ve found you,” she moaned, her face still pressed against his chest. In tearful desperation she related what had happened to her since they had last met, told of Andres and his friends, explained that he was not her master and that she loved him. Sobbing she related her mission now in detail.

“Oh daddy, I’m so glad you’re here. You can help me find Andres.”

“I know already where Andres is my child. He is in my custody. He had valuable information Franco wishes him to divulge.”

“Wonderful,” wept the girl happily. “You can help me daddy. Help me get him out of here.”

Soner Arenillas laughed and then remained silent. Dolores was startled at his lack of response.

“You will help me, daddy, won’t you? I am your daughter.”

“You disgust me,” the big man suddenly said, almost roaring into her ear. “Get off of me. You are no daughter of mine.” With that he pushed the girl with both hands, shoving her onto the floor. Ominously he stood above her.

“My daughter,” he continued imperiously, “was a virgin. You are a filthy slut. Where is the hymen I trusted you with? My child stood for God, King and Country. You are a rebela Republican or even worse. You have renounced God for the Devil.

“Where is your purity? You have given it up for the love of a peasant, a common factory worker. I renounce you. Do not call me father.”

“But, daddy,” she wept, “that’s unfair. I was raped and . … ”

“And liked it so much you let yourself be fucked by any rabble that came along. Well I shall give you your wish. You shall see Senor Eroles in the torture chamber. I have a special gift for you and your lover.”

Ruthlessly the man grabbed the girl by her shoulder and hauled her out of the room. Callously he ignored her tears and pleas. Together they descended a long chain of dark stone stairs.

“Daddy, daddy,” she begged, “please. I love you too. Daddy, please don’t….”

The man stopped and struck her cruelly across the face. Dolores fell against the stone wall and stared up at him helplessly.

“Do not call me, daddy,” he hissed down at her. “I do not wish anyone to know we are related. I deny that you are my daughter. They know you here as Lola and that’s how they will continue to know you. You are no Arenillas. If you reveal your identity I shall kill you.”

Dolores tried to hold her tears to herself as he pulled her down a long dark hallway. The stones were damp and slick. She struggled to keep her balance as his hand dug into her arm like a steel vise.

Don Adolfo shoved her through a doorway and left her standing in the middle of a huge room. High vaulted and rank, the girl recognized it at once as an old dungeon. A few small windows near the ceiling let in a little fresh air. The light was supplied as in olden days by torches. It was a place of horror and death.

Around her in the dim illumination she made out all the old instruments of persuasion. Some she had never heard of and most she had never seen. On them were the twisted mutilated bodies of men and women, young and old alike. A scream came from the corner and she gasped. Even in pain his voice was identifiable.

“Andres,” she called, “Andres!” Quickly she turned and ran to him. He was stretched out naked upon an old rack. The teenager forgot her own woes as her eyes filled with tears of compassion for him.

Mercilessly a squat man in black was turning the wheel, gradually drawing the two ends of the rack apart. And to each end Andres’ arms and legs were securely bound. Gradually, with painful slowness he was being torn apart.

“Talk,” said the executioner at the wheel, “talk or I shall continue.”

“No,” gasped the young Socialist bravely, but his voice was weak and brittle.

“Stop the wheel,” broke in Dolores’ father brusquely. “We have another means perhaps of making him talk. His pet from Barcelona. His mistress.”

Dolores went over to stand beside her master. He looked up at her with feverish eyes. “Lola,” he gasped in recognition but without comprehension. “Lola. I’m glad to see you. Have you come to save me?”

“Yes. I mean, if I can,” she murmured, bending down to stroke the sweat from his brow. “Oh Andres. I love you. But I’ve been captured too.”

“I love you too, Lola,” he mumbled almost inaudibly. “My favorite pet.”

“You’ll have a chance to prove your love,” snickered Don Adolfo menacingly. “Let the prisoner rest and give him water,” he instructed the torturer. “And you, Lola, come again with me.”

In a small dark chamber off the dungeon the Grand Inquisitor made her stand before him. “Strip!” he ordered.

“Daddy!” she gasped. Nothing could have startled her more. “In front of you? You want me to undress in front of you?”

The big man erupted with vicious laughter. Then his face broke into a snarl as he repeated his command, “strip! You’ve spread your cunt wide for field hands, factory laborers, Nazis, priests, dogs and by your admission climaxed. Why be bashful in front of me?”

Head bowed the child did as she was told. Her father had changed so-or had he always been like this? Perhaps the peasants were right. Maybe the aristocracy did need to be taught a lesson.

At last she stood naked before him, modestly hiding her pussy with her hands. She felt his big fingers touch her breasts warmly then pull her arms apart so he could gaze on her bare cunt. Dolores had thought by now she was beyond embarrassment but once again she found herself blushing in shame.

Without a word the Inquisitor shoved her back upon a table. From a drawer he took a hollow metal tube, five inches long, with two clamps on one end. Without ceremony he shoved the steel shaft painfully into Dolores’ cunt. She grimaced with discomfort.

This my dear Dolores-or I should say Lola-is a new device of torture,” he explained, loosely fastening the clamps, one each, to the lips of her pussy. “It is of my own design. It will be appropriate for you and your lover.”

With a pair of pliers he crimped one clamp so that it bit deep into the girl’s tender petal. She screamed and squirmed in pain for a second, and then again as her father fixed the other clamp into her flesh.

“Now it is secure my little bitch,” he said hoarsely, looking down at his weeping daughter. “The tube appears hollow but you will find that as Senor Eroles’ prick moves up and down inside it that it will tighten. The insides will grow smaller. Gradually it will squeeze, crush and eventually castrate his filthy dick. And you shall have the pleasure of doing it to him.

“No father,” she whimpered helplessly, “please, daddy. Don’t make me. I love him.”

“Then make love to him. Just as you have before and with other men besides. All you have to do is fuck him. Come!” Without compassion he grabbed her by the arm and drug her back into the torture chamber.

Andres still lay on the rack but his arms had been untied. He looked better for his few minutes rest. Without a word Don Adolfo shoved his naked daughter onto the Socialist’s body. Spontaneously he hugged her to him.

“Don’t fuck me, Andres. Don’t put your cock in me,” she managed to whisper before her father interrupted.

“How can he resist such a beautiful piece of ass like you, Senorita?” laughed the inquisitor cruelly. “Resist if you can, Andres Eroles.” Taking the youth’s limp but still handsome cock in his hand the man began to tease the knob up and down the length of Dolores’ crack.

“What’s he doing?” whispered Andres in rising anxiety.

“He’s trying to get you hard so you’ll screw me. He’s put something in my pussy to torture you. Don’t yield.”

Their captor only laughed at her warning. Patiently he massaged the flaccid white snake into his daughter’s moist warm pinkness. Valiantly the little girl tried to keep from moving her twat to help arouse him and Andres too tried to resist. But it was useless. He could feel the heat of her quim on his tortured cock, feel her fantastic breasts press firm against his chest, and with his hands he stroked her tempting flesh. In spite of himself he could feel his prod rising and growing hard.

“Very good Senor,” said Don Adolfo at last, victoriously holding the fattened prick in his hands. “Very good for fucking. Let me help guide it in.”

“No don’t, please,” cried Dolores, “please don’t do it to him.”

“It’s all right Lola,” comforted the young man as he felt more of his proud peter engulfed by his pet’s quim. “Don’t blame yourself. I can take it.”

“No, Andres. It will castrate you. Don’t move. Let your prick lie still. I won’t move.”

“Don’t promise him too much, Lola,” cautioned the inquisitor with a smile, having slipped the man’s prick now full length into the teenager’s cunt. “Don’t promise him what you cannot control.

Meaningfully he picked up a soldering iron and showed it to his captives. Plugging it into an extension cord the end quickly became red with heat. Don Adolfo lightly caressed his daughter’s bottom with his soft hand. “You have a very noble ass, child,” he said. “What a shame you chose to debase it with such peasants as these.”

Carefully he placed the steaming iron at the base of one of Dolores’ hips. The sixteen year old squealed and jerked her ass away spontaneously. Inside her she felt the tip of her lover’s prick screw against her cunt walls.

“Oh Andres, I’m sorry,” she immediately whined in rising fear. “I didn’t mean to.”

“It felt good,” he murmured truthfully.

“But it won’t continue to,” she whispered. “Try … oh, owww,” she cried, again jerking her twat away from the electric prod. Under her Andres moaned with pleasure as her pussy ground about his engorged prick.

Again and again Don Adolfo applied the soldering iron to his daughter’s plump tender bottom. Bravely she tried to resist but irresistibly her body would pull away from the painful heat, screwing her lover even more vigorously. Her eyes were full of tears not because of her pain but because of what she was doing to Andres.

So far it felt good to the young man. He knew that inside her cunt his shaft was encased in steel but as yet there was no pressure and he could feel Dolores’ moisture and heat. It was exciting and he would shove his peter deeper into her with each of her painful twists.

The Grand Inquisitor paused for a moment. Until now he had been cautious and playful with his electric poker, letting them gradually become aware of what was happening. He looked at the purple splotches all over his daughter’s light pink ass. Andres would be feeling the pressure from the steel cylinder soon.

“Will you talk now, Senor Eroles?” he asked, knowing he would refuse. “You realize what will happen if you don’t.”

“I will not talk,” responded the Socialist resolutely, hugging his pet tighter to him to give her comfort.

“Please talk, Andres,” urged Dolores tearfully. “Before it’s too late.”

“You know I cannot, Lola. Others would die because of it.”

Without further comment Don Adolfo shoved the red hot iron between his daughter’s ass cheeks. With a scream she lurched forward, grinding her twat about Andres’ trapped prick. Her father gave her no respite now, pressing the soldering iron against her quickly time after time until she screwed herself recklessly on top of her lover. She could not keep from fucking him. She bawled and sobbed and pled hysterically. Under her Andres began to groan with pain. The steel was tightening on his engorged cock.

“Ae ohh God,” grunted the man, gritting his teeth against the pain. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he felt his peter being gradually crushed.

“I’m sorry, master,” wept Dolores pitifully. “I can’t help myself.”

They wrapped each other in their arms as against their will they screwed and ground the genitals together. In spite of the pain Andres felt the pleasure of fucking, the beauty of his pet’s cunt slamming up and down the length of his prod. They began to writhe and shove their hips together in rhythm, fucking madly and with abandon.

Dolores felt her hardened clit yearning, stretching for more. Frothy juice was pouring from her cavern. In spite of the pain she loved it. And she felt her master responding vigorously.

The girl didn’t notice when her father ceased using the hot prod. The couple twisted and humped, oblivious of what was happening around them. Andres’ tortured groans were mixed with pleasure as he felt Dolores’ cunt pounding madly at his body.

“Oh dick me, Andres, dick me, my master,” moaned the sixteen-year-old through parted lips. “Fuck my cunt off. Fuck me.”

“Yes, Lola. It’s so good. So tight,” grunted the man back at her, arching his hips to cram his prod hard into her. “What a delicious tight cunt.”

Then unexpectedly Don Adolfo reached forward and grabbed both their twisting asses. With all his strength he brought their grinding to a halt. Helplessly they lay panting in the other’s arms.

“You children are getting out of hand,” laughed Don Adolfo with mock kindness. “But I’ve never seen such a lovely display before of abandoned lust and rut. All of us here enjoyed it,” he added, nodding to a group of executioners and torturers that had gathered around to watch.

“Please don’t humiliate us too,” whimpered Dolores abjectly. She found herself blushing again in front of her father. “We love each other. And you’re making us do it in front of you.”

“It is not important. We like to watch you hump. What is important, Senor Eroles, is whether you can feel the vise in your Lola’s cunt gripping your prick yet? Does it hurt?”

Andres had to think for a moment. He twitched his cock and felt it throb painfully. It was crushing him, but only a few moments ago he had found joy in the tightness of Lola’s quim. He had mistaken the hurt for the pleasure.

“Yes,” he answered cautiously. “I feel it. It hurts.”

“Then will you talk? Give us the information we need?”

The young man looked deep into his pet’s eyes, looking for an answer. “You have come from Barcelona to save me. Risked this and your life because you love me. Will you forgive yourself if I do not talk? It will not be your fault that you castrate me. I will try to endure the pain if you will forgive yourself.”

“Oh Andres,” she wept unashamedly, “I love you. And I don’t want you to lose your beautiful prick.”

“Then I should tell them?”

Dolores sighed deeply and thought. “No, Andres. Do what you must as a man. Your courage is more important than a prick and I’ll love you anyway. Besides, my fath … the Grand Inquisitor is a cruel man. He’d probably do it to us anyway.”

“That is your answer then, you filthy Fascist,” spoke the Socialist firmly, looking steadily into the eyes of Don Adolfo.

“Very well, then lose your prick,” snickered the aristocrat disdainfully. “I will not stop you again.” With determination the man unsnapped his belt and pulled down his own trousers. Though surprised Dolores strained her head to see. Was her father’s own noble prick small as she expected or … no, it was a large as Andres’ and just as hard.

“I think there is only room enough for one in me Don Adolfo,” she snarled contemptuously, “if you’re planning to rape me with that.”

“There is room in your ass-hole little one,” he responded with equal disdain. “Have they screwed you there before?”

“My shit hole is not virgin. Take it. But remember I’m not giving it to you willingly. You’re raping me.”

“I’ll remember,” laughed the older man as he stripped out of his clothes.

“Andres,” said Dolores, turning her face to her lover. Again her eyes were soft and warm. “This will be our last time. Love me.” Spontaneously she pressed her lips to his and slithered her small pink tongue into his mouth. Eagerly they sucked and kissed at each other, tongue moving from mouth to mouth and licking each other in the open. Their flesh pressed together hotly and their hands stroked their bodies. Everyone including the inquisitor stopped to watch the passionate display of affection. For quarter of an hour the lips of the two lovers were glued together.

“Well now we are ready,” said Don Adolfo when at last the kiss ended. Deliberately he climbed upon the rack above his daughter and positioned his cock by her rump. Her once beautiful hips were now scarred, burned and blistered. They’d never again be the same. Callously he spread her ass cheeks apart with his fingers.

Below him he saw the tiny coveted little pucker, a pinkish brown rosette at the depths of her white ass crack. Only four or five tough curly black hairs protected it.

“This is going to hurt you child,” he threatened, drawing out his pleasure. “It is fit if Andres is in pain that you suffer also.”

Dolores could not help but tremble slightly as she felt the tip of her father’s prick tickle her brown porthole. Andres held her to him a little tighter and whispered in her ear, “I’ll help you. Just try to relax.”

“He’s my father,” she murmured in his ear, careful that the others couldn’t hear.

“I know. I’ve known for a long time who the Grand Inquisitor was. I didn’t tell you. I knew you’d be hurt.”

Delicately Dolores kissed him on the cheek. He had been a strict disciplinarian for her, but she had known for months now that he loved her as much as she did him.

“Ahh,” gasped the child suddenly, her body stiffening. “Oh, ohhh, ohhh,” she moaned as the huge knob began to intrude into her ass-hole. Her body tensed, arching up from where her bottom was locked to her master’s. Her perfect breasts quivered as they dangled seven inches down, nipples barely grazing across Andres’ hairy chest.

Then with a scream she lurched forward. Her father had driven his pecker ruthlessly with one shove into her tender bowels. Shaking with pain she dug her fingers into Andres’ strong back. Sweat broke out on her forehead. She was still too small to be corn-holed.

“Steady,” whispered Andres, “it’ll be all right.”

“You’re so kind,” she grunted under her breath. “You’re the one who’ll be hurt.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Ae, ae, ae, ahhh,” she called openmouthed as Don Adolfo began to cram his prod rhythmically back and forth into her shit hole. His tempo was fast and heavy, causing the child to jerk back and forth with the movements of the wedge. And in doing so her twat again began to fuck Andres’ captured prod.

“Uhhh,” breathed the Socialist as the pain suddenly became sharper.

“Oh my darling,” she grunted, her body rocking from her father’s heavy thrusts, “what I’m going to do to you.” Then finally she recalled the lesson she had learned over the last few months, culminating at the mass with Father Manuel. Pain and joy mixed brought orgasm and orgasm brought salvation from earthly miseries.

“It’ll be all right,” she urged her master. “I know. Let’s fuck like we never fucked before. It’ll be our salvation. You’ll see.”

To emphasize her words she gathered her courage and began to shove her ass back at her father’s invading prick. In spite of the pain she pushed her bowels repeatedly down the length of the slimy spear and then ground back to screw Andres deliriously. Between the two cocks she worked her twat in a frenzy, taking the control out of their hands. The tempo increased wildly as she jerked around and down, back and forth. She grit her teeth as the pain in her bleeding ass-hole shot repeatedly through her body.

“Our salvation,” she mumbled in pants to her lover, “our salvation Andres. Fuck me, fuck me good.”

The young man had no choice. His cock was caught inescapably now in the vise in Dolores’ pussy. Prick and balls were jerked about wildly with each thrust of the girl’s twat. His whole body was alive with fire from his genitals. It was useless to try to conceal the pain.

“Hold on dearest, uh, ohhh,” she grunted as Don Adolfo’s prick ground into her bowels, “hold on Andres. Think of the fucking. Uh, forget the pain. Think of fucking me. Thing of my hot young cunt. Think of my throbbing pink clit. Concentrate … oh, oh, ohhh … concentrate on my fucking twat. Oh, uhh.”

Back and forth the three rocked insanely, passionately pounding their genitals against the other. Dolores ignored the agony in her ass to screw Andres furiously, pulling him toward the brink of orgasm.

Andres’ reddened face was knotted in pain. His prick was being squeezed off his body. Boiling fire pervaded his consciousness. But he listened to his pet, tried to do as Lola said. He thought of the little teenager’s beautiful magnificently small cunt, her slender pussy lips. Harder he twisted and screwed his tortured prod though it felt like it would be torn from him.

In desperation he grabbed at her swinging jugs, crushed them in his strong hands. Mercilessly he twisted and jerked at the hanging udders, felt the nipples grow stone hard against his palms and tore at them with his fingernails.

Dolores bit her lips at the pain. Blood trickled down her chin. She was dizzy from the agony in both her knockers and her shit hole but she wouldn’t give up. Only orgasm could save Andres.

“Yes, Andres,” she managed to gurgle. “Yes, my breasts. Squeeze them, Andres. Bite them. Bite them.” Under her, the Socialist was groaning in open pain. There was a new sensation inside her pussy. Inside the five inch steel pole his prick shaft had been squeezed to the size of a cigar. Now from the open end the malleable flesh had been forced out, ballooning the size of an orange and pressing against her womb.

“Bite my boobs,” she urged again. “Bite my boobies and dick me hard. Hard!” She hoped to help him relieve his pain.

But Andres was already beyond the distinctions of pain and joy. His cock was full of the inescapable intensity. It was a fire of love and agony. He couldn’t stand it. Dizzily the room spun about him. He heard her words and viciously shoved the end of a tit in his mouth.

“Aeee, ae, ahhh,” screamed Dolores open mouthed as she felt her lover’s teeth bit mercilessly into her creamy flesh. He was chewing at the abundant cone, tearing at it and ripping the skin. The pain was unendurable.

Behind her their captor continued to cram his cock up her ass at breakneck speed. He was feverish with desire. It was his best fuck ever. “Up my daughter’s shit hole,” he kept mumbling, “up my daughter’s shit hole.”

Andres’ body began to twist and jerk violently, his arms flailing the air like a madman’s. His prick was pencil thin now, the end of his cock swollen to the size of a grapefruit. He couldn’t endure more. But salvation was near. He could feel the primitive throbbing begin to build in the base of his nuts.

“Ae, ae, ohhh, ohhh, Lola fuck mee,” he gasped, then bit again ruthlessly into her perfect large breast. His distorted peter was filling Dolores so that she could hardly breathe, the entrapped shaft crushed to nothing.

“I’m going to come,” he mumbled with his mouth still full of teenage tit. “I’m coming.”

Then Andres exploded inside her. Literally the juice had somehow poured through the tiny opening left in the shaft, filled the ballooning end and burst. Come, blood and prick flesh spewed everywhere inside her. Dolores felt every hot drop of it as it covered her sweating cave, heard his muffled tormented screams. His shredded prick lined the insides of her cunt.

Feeling Andres’ explosion Don Adolfo pressed harder, ramming home his oily peter until his jism mixed with her shit. He gave a final violent shove and Dolores felt herself forced forward, torn with a sickening rip from Andres’ crotch. She’d castrated him. What was left of his cock was inside her.

Dizzy from the pain in her bowels and her breast she glanced for an instnat in horror between her legs. There was blood all over her lover’s crotch and not a trace of his penis. His balls dangled there uselessly. She hadn’t even left him a stump. Her eyes glanced at her throbbing breast and saw blood there where his teeth dug violently into her flesh. Then suddenly everything was spinning crazily and her body began to pulse in rhythmic abandon. She was climaxing too.

“Ah, ahhh, ohhh,” she cried so all could hear. “I’m coooming. Coooming.” Desperately she churned her ass back to meet her father’s prod, slammed her twat back down on Andres’ crotch and screwed madly.

“It’s all right now,” she wailed, “it’s all gooood. Coooming.” And everything was all right. They were united now, beyond pain and selfishness and cruelty. The three of them for an instant shared the ungodly love. “Cooooming,” she shouted, “coooming, Saved. The best fuck.”

The castle doctor had watched the three in amazement.

Even when Andres had been castrated and Dolores was in agonized orgasm he could not keep his eyes off the sensuous abandonment. But the sight of blood finally aroused him. Even before the girl had finished her climax he was at their side. Immediately he attended to Andres’ amputated prick. He had orders not to let him die yet.

With a sucking sound Don Adolfo pulled his prick out of his daughter’s bloodied bottom. Sitting back on his haunches he watched, arms hanging limply at his sides, exhausted.

As soon as he had finished with Andres the doctor turned to Dolores’ tortured boob. He stared at the bloodied end where her nipple used to be. In his frenzy her lover had bitten a full two inches off the end of her perfect breast.


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