Carey was a sweet and innocent 18 year-old freshman student who had never thought badly of or had caused any harm to anyone. But life is seldom fair; if it was, pretty Carey would never have found herself snatched, bound and spirited away by masked men in the middle of the night.
Yes, Carey was a sweet and innocent girl – and that’s exactly what made her such highly-prized commodity to this rather unpleasant group of strangers who looked her over as she was finally brought out from that musky room where she had been undergoing her first sessions of punishment.
“I like her”, one of the women said. ” Cute blonde always bring in the money”.
“Si, replied the tall old naked man with the raging hard-on. “And they’re so much fun to fuck, too.”
In the first few days and nights in which Carey spent being introduced to her new way of life as a money-earning whore for the Monesto Brothel, she had already begun to lose hope of g rescue or escape. Maybe it was nightly application of that thin, wooden cane or the seemingly endless assaults of the hard cocks or the humiliating offerings of demanding, unpleasant-smelling pussies that urgently sought out the services of her captive lips and tongue. Her new owners kept her busy as they “educated” her in how to take it in every hole, no matter how sore she was becoming. Carey’s mouth was no better off; her throat almost raw from acceptance of those many wide, long cockshafts and tasted rank and foul from swallowing the loads of cum from the men and slimy pussy and as juices from the women.
Cary was a slave just meant for fucking. Her victimized cunt seemed to not been stretched like those of the other slaves from all the cocks it had been forced to endure. Instead, Carey’s pussy stay tight and hugged the shafts of the guys who fucked her so much. No matter how deep she was fucked, the walls of her distressed young pussy snugly fitted against the excited cock, causing the rapist to shake, shudder and spew his cumload much sooner than normal. Yes, Carey would be a money-maker….
As owner of the brothel, Manuel rarely fucked a new slave after the first few nights of rape and rough sex. After that, he usually thought of them solely as pieces of fuck-meat to be used by his many customers and to earn him money. But this Gringa’s extraordinarily tight pussy kept Manuel’s interest for quite some time. It had been over two weeks now and Manuel had still not released Carey into working with the rest of the brothel whores. That pussy was just too good…
Slave Carey obediently bucked her hips upward to meet the full impact of Manuel’s final thrust “Aaaarrgggh….” , Manuel grunted loudly as his big dick spasmed deep in Carey’s pussy, filling her once again with his latest supply of warm, thick semen.
Manuel’s wide tongue slobbered saliva in the sobbing slave’s ear as he gripped her tightly while enjoying the sensation of his balls thrashing as they emptied themselves within her.
“Uhhhhhhh… Maybe I won’t put you to work whoring out there, Gringa. Maybe I’ll just use you to make babies. Maybe arrange to send photos to your family every time you get pregnant. Show them how is getting fucked over and over by my cock….!”
Jenny was a difficult girl for the brothel owners. Not that she couldn’t be broken; Jenny, in this case, was already broken. The problem was that Jenny just couldn’t mentally accept the fact her destiny was to be a cum-filled cockwhore who would be confined to a whorehouse for the rest of her life. A deeply moral and religious 21 year-old, Jenny couldn’t help but breaking into almost hysterical tears whenever a cock entered her . Although some of the customers actually enjoyed fucking a non-stop crier, most of them were a bit put off by it all. They tried to remedy by more ravishment and beatings – but that only brought more dejected tears and continuous sobbing.
Having being written off as no use to the brothel, Jenny seemed destined to be yet another unidentified female body that would be discovered so years from now in some lonely, isolated desert grave. Only the belated intercession by the old Indian woman, Xupatha, prevented Jenny’s life being ended by a bullet in the head.
“Give her to me,” the elderly crone asked of the owners. “I am lonely out there in my little shack. I need a sweet-looking girl like that to keep my old juices flowing. I will trade you four barrels of my peyote swill for her.”
Xupatha’s famous swill, which she supplied to the local drug cartels, was a concoction which only she knew how to make; more addictive and powerful than cocaine, bring three times the money in . Her offer was immediately accepted.
Xupatha had one further small request: “Give me one of your basement rooms where I can chain her up for a couple of nights,” she asked. “I promise you that soon after, she will be ready and willing…..
It did not take long for the old dark-skinned Xupatha to shock Jenny out of her uncooperative attitude. Touch of the Xupatha’s white-hot iron rod was so much worse than any beating or punishment session that Jenny had endured. And Xupatha used it so sparingly, so expertly with her strong, wrinkled hands. In her younger years, she had worked as a special interrogator for a series of right-wing juntas throughout South America. Her victims always begged to tell her everything they knew.
This was only the third time in twelve hours that Xupatha let her pretty American prisoner feel the burning iron rod applied against her skin. The old woman applied it gently, ever so gently.
“Here it is, my pretty white girl. Just like I promised. I know I’ve kept you waiting…….”
“Aaaaiiieee… NO!…. Ahgggg!” Jenny’s screams were ear-splitting as she thrashed against her chains.
Xupatha moistened at Jenny’s agony. “Mmmm, you’re so beautiful, Jenny. My pussy needs you so much……!”
Sweet and petite, Patty would never see the insides of her college classrooms again. Nor would she ever be able to see or hear from her family again. Captured and transported across the border, Patty was now almost ready to be put to work at the Monesto Brothel.
Patty had already suffered through a week of hard introductions to the brothel staff. She now knew the rules and knew better than to resist in any way. Escape was impossible. There was no hope. There was only keeping alive by pleasing and pleasuring all those who demanded it. She was there to make the Brothel money. She was there to do as she was told. Like yesterday, when the brothel owner’s big, ugly wife showed Patty how she wanted Patty to kneel and keep her opened mouth tight against Mrs. Manuel’s gaping cunt in order to more efficiently gulp the wife’s streaming piss-loads down her throat. Mrs. Manuel thought Patty was a perfect toilet for her urine. So cute. So pretty.
Now it was time Patty to meet her first customer. Big, fat Ernesto always was willing to pay a little extra in order to be the first client to sample a new slave before she got used by the other customers. Ernesto might have been fat and unseemly – but he had a very long, thick cock. And he liked to fuck his victim in her ass….
Innocent Patty screamed at the top of her lungs as big Ernesto welcomed her into the life of whorehouse slave. There was only pleasure for him and agony for her as he rudely forced his heavily-veined big cock in her protesting asshole and then started slamming her hard . One of the regular whores held quivering white girl in place, her hand gripping Patty firmly by her throat. She and another whore laughed as they watched how Patty cried and suffered as Ernesto continued his assault.
“Ahhhhh, Bueno! Bueno…..,” Ernesto grunted. “Bueno………..”
The Monesto Brothel, located just a few meters from the American border fence, was a family-run business. Grandma Monesto didn’t participate in the daily goings-on of the brothel business. But although she always muttered that she was ‘retired’ and complained that she was bored and had nothing to do, that was the furthest thing from the truth. In reality Grandma Modesto had quite an active sex life – thanks to the efforts of her attentive brothel-owning grandsons….
There was no reason why an old woman should have any less of a sexual good time than a young one, thought Grandma. And this old, wrinkled woman enjoyed herself mightily. Supplied with captured slavegirls who met her exacting requirements ( “Slender, pretty but not beautiful, light brown hair, no freckles, between 18 and 19, from good Anglo families! This is what I must have!” ), Grandma Monesto spent a good portion of each day and night risking having a heart attack from all the continued orgasms that her stabled of pretty, compliant slavegirls could manage to give her. She knew her slave were repelled by her old, withered body; hated slurping her rank, dripping cunt juices; hated burying their pretty faces between her sagging, wrinkled ass in order to explored her foul asshole with their tongues. Their humiliation only added to the pleasure of it all….!
Far down in the basement beneath her grandsons’ brothel, Grandma Monesto was practically a queen. The 18 and 19 year-old Gringa slavegirls had no choice but to service Grandma’s every need. So many orgasms every day. Every day an old woman’s dream. She enjoyed it so much.
She was now enjoying teaching the two newest slaves to her twenty or so harem of providers of pleasure. Two days now and they were already obedient, afraid of the cane she liked to use. Grandma Monesto’s ancient pussy was already dripping as the slave named Diane worked at it with a frightened, lapping tongue. Grandma’s wet, needy asshole puckered with anticipation as she beaconed to the other new slave, Julie.
“Come over here, Julie, and join your friend. She licked my ass the last time while you got to work my old pussy. Now it’s your turn again to clean out my butthole. Come, be quick! I’m in the mood to keep you using that cute tongue of yours real deep in my behind!”
In the end, all innocence is eventually tainted or destroyed. that was the case of 20 year-old Karen Stills. Miss Stills was the daughter of an esteemed churchman, the mighty Reverend Stills who preached over nationwide radio every Sunday. Everyone said the Reverend was as close to God as one could get. Politicians, newsmen, generals: all sought his counsel – or at least a photo opportunity with him. A good word from the Reverend could make or break many a candidate or social cause. But the Reverend was a fake. As the swarthy men who ran the sex trade just across the border well knew…
The Reverend had certain sexual tastes that would shock his loyal wife or his prim daughter Karen or anyone else who discovered them. They were tastes which the Reverend paid quite large sums of money to indulge himself in. The tight knit group of Mexican crime bosses who supplied him with the particular sexual services that he wanted were quite pleased with the amount of cash involved, so they had no interest in exposing him. No money in that. Eventually they started to let Rev. Stills fall behind on his payments now and then. After all, he usually made their patience worth while by adding a nice extra sum as interest…
But unknown to the bosses, the Reverend’s finances had begun to take a steep dive. The money wasn’t being donated in the same large sums that it used to and his accountants issued warnings to Rev. Stills: He better tighten his financial practices quickly because the creditors and the tax people were beginning to make noises. And the dangerous on the other side of the border were demanding their money; money the Reverend didn’t have.
But what the Reverend did have was a beautiful daughter who would be used as collateral until he came up with the money he owed. After raiding his mansion and killing his terrified wife and beating the Reverend so that it looked like a robbery, they took his daughter, informing him he had three months to pay up or Karen would be sold and spend the rest of her life as a whore.”
It not was a case of the crime bosses having anything against Karen Stills. In fact, each of them personally made it a point to enjoy spending hours with Karen. Fucking
that virgin pussy and pounding her agonized asshole with their hard and rude cocks. They kept her in relative comfort for three months until they decided that Rev. Stills, despite his continued assurances, he would never be able to pay. The Reverend died in a mysterious vehicle accident . Karen was given to the Monesto Brothel.
Jose was Karen’s first customer of the day – but there was already a line of eager men with hard dicks formed out in the hallway. A new white girl always excited their interest. The old whore Helena’s job was to keep everything under control. Helena fingered herself and watched as the American slavegirl tearfully obeyed Jose’s grunted orders to suck faster. Jose was a long-time customer of the whorehouse and Helena knew him well enough to know that he was getting close to shooting his load. Soon he would grab the slave’s head with both hands, pulling her stretched lips forward on his shaft, choking her as he began to spurt his thick cum down her throat. Jose liked to know that not a drop of his cum would be wasted. Right after that, Helena would also be firmly holding Karen’s head in place while she washed Jose’s cum down with her own piss. That would show this Gringa bitch who were the bosses!
“I think this gentleman here would like you to swallow all of his cock, Karen. He likes narrow throats gagging on his meat and yours is specially narrow with that iron collar around it…”