The cripple dragged himself into the shadows, just as the gleaming Pleasure Island boat slowed to enter the harbor. He could hear sounds of laughter, and saw likely figures talking and pointing from the deck, then heading for the stairs.
Not long after, groups of giggling women and laughing men cha-cha’d eagerly ashore, chatting and touching each other’s arms and backs, anticipating the pleasures to come. They plainly had come for the every-night party, staying over at the One Night Stand Hotel, many of them doubling or tripling up, before dragging their hangovers back to the mainland the next day.
Pleasure Island’s party-central reputation brought them from far and wide, but mostly they provided the entertainment.
The cripple looked over each of the pleasure seekers as they came ashore, assessing and rejecting – until she appeared.
She was tall, blonde, leggy, and dressed in a way that clearly indicated that she was eager to hook up – a short skirt, high strappy heels, barely restrained tits behind gauzy colored strips of cloth. She smiled carmine lips at an equally eager young stud, who practically drooled at the nipples pointing towards him.
She was the one. El Toro would be satiated.
The cripple crawled painfully towards the residence, dragging himself on calloused knuckles. Tonight would be better, he promised himself. El Toro would be satisfied…
The dark stranger brushed a wrinkle from the white, linen trousers of his suit, smoothed his hair, practiced a smile, and hummed quietly to himself.
Taking a deep breath, he strode into the wall of voices, strobing lights, and music, rum punches being waved in gesticulating hands. The night was too young for pairing off. The niceties must be observed, after all, before the fucking could begin…
He stood, framed in the door, waiting to be noticed – and to find his prey. He inhaled the perfume, aftershave, underarm deodorant, and pheromones, a small smile on his lips, then spied her.
She was surrounded by hopefuls at a table, each leaning eagerly forward, trying to improve their chances of being The One to take her that night – as it was clear she wanted to be taken.
He nodded to the DJ, who nodded back then tapped the screen to select the next tune.
Dark stranger moved smoothly across the floor, seeking his prey, reaching her just as the opening strains of “Lady in Red” erupted from the speakers.
“May I have this dance,” his baritone cut through the noise, holding his hand out while ignoring the daggered looks of the other suitors. It wasn’t really a question – and after a heartbeat, she placed her hand in his and stood.
“Of course,” she dimpled.
He drew her to the far end of the dance floor by one hand, like he was reeling in a big fish, eeling their way slowly through the crowd of swaying dancers, then turned and gathered her into his arms, one hand on her waist, the other held out for her hand.
Smiling, she flowed into him, “A gentleman! Most guys would take liberties, putting their hands on my ass.”
“Oh, I will,” he smiled, “when you beg me to.”
Her smile broadened.
They swayed to the music, and somehow, his thigh always seemed to slide up inside hers, almost to her pussy, brushing lightly, and sending shivers up her spine, causing her bum to clench.
Sighing, she moved in closer, putting her hands around his neck and lowering her head to his shoulder. He placed his hands on her upper back and pulled her closer.
After a few moments she whispered in his ear, “Now you can put your hands on my ass.”
He drew back slightly, smiling, and said: “Beg.”
Throwing her head back, laughing, “All right, please put your hands on my ass!”
His hands moved ever so slowly down her back, stopping to brush lightly up a couple of times, before finally reaching their requested stopping point where they squeezed ever so slowly. She shivered, “You do know your way around a woman, don’t you?”
He smiled at her, “You have no idea.”
When the song stopped, he broke from her, took her hand and pulled her out onto the veranda, high on the mountain overlooking the many lights of the houses below and the few houses higher up the mountain, the moon rippling in reflection from the bay.
They stood in the soft night air, side by side, looking out over the magical scene. She exhaled. “It’s like a dream.”
“Isn’t it,” he replied, then judged it was time. “Three questions.”
She looked at him, puzzled, arching an eyebrow.
“I’d like to ask you three questions, but you must promise to answer them honestly.”
She leaned back, her ass resting on the wall behind her, “Fire away.”
He paused, letting the suspense build, “Do you taste as good as you smell?’
Again she threw back her head and laughed, but this time she blushed as well, “You’ll have to find out for yourself.”
The corners of his mouth crooked up, “Oh, I will. Second question: How many times do you want to cum tonight?”
She straightened up, her smile broadening, “You move right along, don’t you? Well…” her mouth opened, and she ran her tongue along the outside of her top teeth, “…about a hundred or so I guess. If you’re man enough to manage it.”
He smirked, then echoed, “You’ll have to find that out for yourself. Final question…” and he moved in close, pulling her towards him and letting his cock press directly against her pussy, “Would you like to be forced – and taken?”
Her breath stopped. Suddenly this seemed real, and she wondered if she knew what she was doing.
But the magic of the night, the setting, and her own natural horniness prompted her. She leaned forward and breathed into his ear, “Yes!”
“Say it.”
She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry, “I…I want to be forced, and taken – however you want.”
He pulled back and smiled into her eyes. “Bueno,” then leaned forward and kissed her, tongue slowly moving deep into her mouth.
Her hands again found the back of his neck. She shivered, her whole body shaking in sudden excitement, which only built as the kiss went on, and his hands wandered over her body, now to her tits, then to her ass, and finally to the hem of her red dress.
Slowly, gradually, he gathered the dress up her body – and she made no objection. He lifted it over her head – and she raised her hands to allow him to remove it entirely, leaving her naked save for her sandals and a pair of tiny pink panties, which showed a large, wet patch at the front.
He took the dress and gave it a one-handed flick, sending it twirling over the end of the veranda, into the darkness, then pushed her slowly backwards until her legs hit the stone wall behind her, forcing her to sit.
“Hey! That’s my dress!” she objected. He put his finger to her lips, smiling.
Using his leg, he pushed her knees apart, then knelt down and slowly peeled her panties until they fell around her ankles. Going down on one knee, he stripped them off, then pushed her chest with the other hand while lifting and holding one ankle tightly.
With a scream that was lost in the sounds of the bar, she went over backwards, her waist on the edge of the wall, her head hanging over the drop below. He grabbed her other ankle and spread it wide, then wrapped his arm around her thigh and leaned forward and began to lick and slurp all around her wet cunt.
Very shortly, she ceased struggling and began to moan, hanging limp and naked, upside down, her hair waterfalling from her head. He secured his hold on both thighs and begin to violate her cunt with his long tongue, finding her G-spot and licking it in long, hard strokes while bumping her clit with his nose.
She started squirming, then thrashing and finally screamed again – but this time in ecstasy as she came, and came hard.
He kept going, moving up and down, his tongue moving into her cunt, tickling her G-spot, then slurping up to find her clit and the inside of her puffy cunt lips, then back again.
She came again and again, crying now, tears streaming up her face and falling into the darkness below.
“Stop! Please stop! PLEASE!” she cried.
He paused momentarily, then slurped her clit into his lips and sucked it hard as his tongue licked. She started thrashing harder still, “Please, please stop! Please! I can’t … I can’t … OHHHH!”
He stopped abruptly, and she hung limp, dangling upside down, seemingly oblivious to her situation.
Carefully, he squatted up and lifted her, being careful not to harm her, and slowly walked backwards until her back was on the flat of the stone wall.
Gently placing her feet on the ground, he moved forward and grabbed one arm, then the other, and lifted her to a standing position.
She was a rag doll, and only his power kept her upright. He slowly turned her away from him, then kicked her legs apart.
She didn’t resist when he slid three fingers down her ass, under her perineum, and up into her cunt, cupping his hand under her. He reached up with the other hand and grabbed a handful of her long, blonde hair, then pushed her forward, forcing her to walk in her sandals along the veranda, towards a set of stairs that wound down into the darkness.
As he walked her forward, unresisting, he kept his fingers busy, stroking her cunt walls, which responded by clenching repeatedly, squeezing his fingers. Her breath came in short bursts, as if breathing was an afterthought, and she did it only when her body made it necessary.
She didn’t notice where they were going, nor worry about walking through the darkened streets naked. Her eyes fluttered – she seemed gone, dazed by her multiple orgasms, lost in sub space.
Finally, they reached the Residence. He kicked the door, and it swung open. Maneuvering her towards the master bedroom, he kicked the main door closed, and heard it latch. A soft light suffused the bedroom, which had one massive bed and too many mirrors.
He walked her to a full-length mirror, then shook her aware. “Look at yourself, slut. Look at the fucktoy you are – and we’ve barely begun…”
Her eyes fluttered, then opened wide, shocked to see herself naked and wondered what had happened to her clothes.
He pulled her over to the bed, then pushed her forward onto it, face first. Putting a hand in the small of her back, he said, “Up onto doggie position. You’re about to be given all your dirtiest fantasies.”
She crawled into the center of the bed, then he adjusted her body until she was locked in position, legs spread wide, cunt protruding behind her and up, back arched almost achingly, shoulders on the bed, hair spread around before her.
“Don’t move,” was all he said.
She heard clothes being removed, then felt the bed move as he knee-walked up between her knees to her dripping, puffy, spasming cunt.
She felt something nuzzle her cunt lips, then his hand gripped her hair and forced her to look up, facing herself in the mirror. He was poised behind her, knees between hers, then flipped his cock up – and she saw it was enormous with veins rigid and purple.
“Oh my GOD! I don’t think I can … you mustn’t… I…”
He moved his cock back to her cunt lips then rammed it home. As her cunt was already soaked, open, and slick, his cock slid home, but it was really tight. She howled and felt as if she was choking, her cunt painfully full. Then, as he started to withdraw, the veins rubbed along her cunt walls and all thought vanished as she came yet again – and again – and again as he started to pound her cunt relentlessly.
She didn’t think she could possibly feel anything more – until his hand reached around between her legs and her grasped her clit, twirling it and squeezing it, gently, but rhythmically in time with the enormous piston strobing deep inside her.
Her head exploded, her mind left her, and all she could feel was wave after wave of orgasms.
It was too much, way too much, she couldn’t bear it – and yet she didn’t want it to stop…
The next day, her cunt felt bruised and tender, her ass burned and hurt, her jaw was throbbing and sore, her throat and tits ached, and she was exhausted. She didn’t care.
The days went by, each with a selected victim from the boatload of pleasure-seekers, and each a new conquest for El Toro. Things went smoothly – until they didn’t.
The cripple sat in the shade, once again watching the incoming Paradise party-goers…yet couldn’t see any candidates. He grew agitated, but no matter how hard he searched, he felt nothing.
Finally, reluctantly, he dragged his useless legs back to the Residence and reported his failure.
“I expect results, not excuses, worm! You know the consequences!”
“Please – there was nothing I could do. I can’t just make someone appear. I tried – it was…no – No! PLEASE!”
There was a blood-curdling scream, followed by sobbing.
The next day, the cripple dragged himself to his shadow. His left hand was raw and covered in blood with one finger missing, which made it even harder for him to drag himself along the ground. His breathing was labored and erratic.
At midday, when the next party boat arrived, he spied a laughing raven-haired woman whom he knew would be perfect for El Toro, then realized she was with a man. They looked like a couple.
Swallowing hard, the cripple searched in vain for someone else, then dragged himself back to the Residence, reporting what he had seen.
El Toro was motionless for a long time, then finally stirred and straightened up. It was decided.
Once again, the dark man readied himself outside, took a breath, then walked into the bar, and spied her dancing with her partner. Swaying to the music, he moved over, then tapped her partner on the shoulder, he said, “May I cut in?”
The man stared at him for a moment, then a knowing glance passed between him and his wife. “Be my guest.” He walked to the bar, then turned and watched the two dancing, a smirk on his face.
Her perfume filled the dark man’s nose, and he felt her press her body to him. “You know,” the woman said, “the reason my husband surrendered me so easily is that I’m going to tell him everything we do tomorrow morning. And he’s going to reclaim me then.”
The dark man smiled but said nothing, but took that as permission to move to the next step. He suggested they walk out onto the moonlit veranda – and she eagerly agreed.
Once again he asked the three questions, and once again she consented to being forced, taken, and used for his pleasure, and once again he stripped her there on the veranda in the soft night air, overlooking the Caribbean sparkling in the moonlight.
He stooped, hands on her waist, then boosted her up. At first, she thought he wanted her to wrap her legs around his waist, but he went further, boosting her legs up onto his shoulders in a show of power.
Surprised, she settled in place, her cunt pressed up against his face – and he began to lick, his legs braced and slightly bent to support both of their weights.
It was as if an electric shock went through her body. Her back arched, her head tipped back, raven hair cascading down behind her. She screamed, her body shaking as she came repeatedly until she begged him to stop – which he finally did, causing her to collapse forward, wrapping her arms around his head.
Holding her around the waist with one arm, he quickly released his belt, dropping his trousers and revealing his enormous cock, which throbbed up quickly towards her dripping cunt. He lifted her, she slipped her legs free of his shoulders, he slowly lowered her down his front, then maneuvered her until his cock was nestled between her pulsing cunt lips.
Finally aware of what he was doing, she looked down – and screamed, just as he dropped her weight, forcing his now fully erect cock into her drenched and throbbing cunt.
“Oh my FUCKING life! Oh god oh god OH GOD!”
She threw her head back, making her tits stand out.
He moved his arm further up her back, then yanked her weight up at the same time as he moved his hips back. His cock made a wet, sucking sound as it slid partway out of her cunt, then rammed forward again as he dropped her weight down onto the fat, rigid pole pushing up into her and mashing against her cervix.
Sweat broke out all over her body, her mouth opened in a silent scream as the most intense orgasm she had ever experienced shook her like a rag doll.
After several repetitions, he pulled out, then lowered her into his arms, carrying her, limp and naked, through the streets to the Residence, fingers of one hand stroking her cunt and clit, keeping her bubbling and hot. Her eye fluttered open and closed as if she were flitting in and out of consciousness.
She, too, was achy and bruised the next morning in all orifices, and completely exhausted. Her husband found her lying outside their hotel room door, naked, pale, eyes turned up in her head, covered in cum, with cum leaking from all three holes.
He pulled her inside, then tried to rouse her, but she just lay there, looking at the ceiling, eyes half open. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t respond to his entreaties.
It was as if she wasn’t there – lights on, nobody home…
Back on the mainland, the raven-haired woman lay in a darkened hospital room, her lifeless form belying the beeping of her heart monitor. Her husband sat miserably at her side.
She was alive, but nothing he or any of the doctors could do seemed to rouse her. In his desperation, he did something he hadn’t done since he was a child.
He prayed.
Then he turned with a jerk, surprised that a short, trim woman with brown-auburn hair in white was standing there. He hadn’t heard the door open.
Smiling at him, she moved to his wife’s side, felt her forehead, skinned back her eyelids and looked deeply into her eyes.
Turning to her husband, she said, “She has anhedonia. She has no desire for pleasure or anything else, it’s been burned out of her. It’s as if she looked at a bright flash, and now can’t see.
“The way to treat this is to lead her back to life, one small step at a time. Take her for walks in the country. Let her taste things she loved to eat. Play music that she appreciated. Keep the exposures short, until she shows signs that she wants more – then slowly increase her experiences of pleasure.
“Keeping her here in a darkened room with no stimulus is exactly the wrong treatment.”
The woman looked at him, “Teach her to love life again, Marcus, and she’ll return to you.”
And with that, she quietly left. It was only later that he wondered who that doctor was or how she knew his name.
The cripple was once again getting desperate, and couldn’t find a candidate – until finally he spied on a short, trim woman with brown-auburn hair and hazel eyes walking alone off the boat. She was not a typical candidate, but something about her drew his eye.
Strangely, she looked up and seemed to look back at him – which he knew was unlikely. He was small, and hidden well back in the shadows. She looked away, and he dismissed it as coincidence.
He pulled himself through the streets back to the Residence. El Toro had his target for the night.
Later, the dark man pulled the short, trim woman out into the moonlight of the balcony, and gathered her into his arms. “Three questions,” he said.
She smiled, “All right. First, have you always had those piercing blue eyes?”
He stopped, startled. “I ask the questions.”
She merely waited.
He moved back from her slightly, staring into her hazel eyes, then shrugged and said, “Yes. I’ve always had these eyes.”
“Have they always held so much pain?”
Now he shoved her away from him, shocked, “What do you mean, pain?”
But in his heart he knew.
She walked quietly towards him, looking up into his face, “Final question: would you like to be released?”
He stood, frozen, unable to think or move – then collapsed onto his hands and knees on the stone tiles of the veranda. His body shook, wracked with deep, heaving sobs.
She moved forward, folded down cross-legged on the stone veranda, and pulled his head in her lap, stroking his hair and murmuring comfortable words.
His body began to change: shrinking, shriveling. His legs collapsed, becoming disfigured. His hair fell out, leaving a patchy, balding head. His face screwed up into a puckered, wrinkled map of lines and creases. One finger was missing from his left hand. He had returned to his natural form: the cripple.
“How long has the demon driven you?” the woman asked.
He looked up at her, tears in his eyes, “I…I don’t know. Long. Too long, longer than I can endure. But what choice do I have?”
“You could refuse.”
“He offered to make me El Toro, to fulfill my wildest, dirtiest dreams, to make me irresistible, to be…attractive and desired, instead of a despised, ugly loser.”
He turned his face away, “But the monster cock he inflicted on me owned me – not me, it. It was El Toro. I was merely its servant, and did its bidding, finding victims during the day, then stealing their joy at night, with the demon punishing me if I failed.”
He looked up at her again. “But I had no choice! It was either that, or be tortured for my failure and become a hollow, empty shell with no life.”
“Yes – like the empty shells of the people whose lives you stole.”
He slumped forward, openly bawling, chest heaving, his entire body shivering, and at last nodding.
She sat quietly, waiting.
When he finally stopped, he looked up. “Help me. Please? I know I don’t deserve it, but…forgive me?”
She nodded. “Yes, you’ll be forgiven – but on one condition.”
He looked his question at her. “That you repent and forgive yourself.”
His cry went up, a howl of mortal anguish, and again she waited patiently, stroking his wispy hair.
Finally, he finished, and nodded. “I do repent. I shall carry the weight of those lives forever, but…I, I…”
He swallowed, “Since you assure me that I can – I, I forgive myself.”
He exhaled and his breathing stopped. His eyes turned up in his head. His body went slack – then crumbled into dust which blew away.
Standing, she turned to face the demon who glared at her from the shadows, talons extended.
“And you?” she asked. “Do you repent, and will you forgive yourself?”
The fallen angel’s eyes flickered for a moment with doubt – and hope. Then it threw back its head, howled in pain and anguish, and ran into the night, crashing through the undergrowth.
“I thought not,” she said, and walked away.
