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Table of Contents
Her dark hair fell over his slight chest and her mouth found the center of one of his boyish nipples. She pressed her wet lips over it, sucking gently until her tongue could sense its growing firmness and only then did she part her lips and rake her teeth over the sensitive nerves. Her arm rested authoritatively over his shoulders, holding him down against the involuntary way he wanted to push her away. Once again she felt herself flooded with the sweet warmth of excitement. She squeezed his cock at its base and moved her head down, her mouth wetly open and eager to take the young plum knob of his cock into hot cavity of her head.
He was as large as any man she had ever sucked, and she was somewhat surprised that for a boy of eighteen who was so slim he was built like a stag. She opened her mouth wider and almost lunged at the pulsing head of his cock, hot and purple with the anticipation of something that he had never felt before. It was large and it filled her mouth thickly. Her lips were stretched until the corners were white, but the jaw-aching thrill of taking the boy's cock into her mouth overrode all sense of discomfort.
Zelda lowered her head, sucking the head of his dick into the wet cavern. Her cheeks collapsed around his screaming pole while her tongue lashed mercilessly over the throbbing head. His body jerked with the wild spasms of pleasure that he had never felt before and with each twitch of his slim body, Zelda felt herself growing more and more aroused, burning between her legs as only her wildest fantasies had given her. She moved her hand from the base of his cock and sunk her head lower, engulfing the young penis down to her tonsils almost. Her hand slid between his legs, cupping his passion-tightened scrotum and the swollen testicles inside. The boy was fairly shivering with the excitement that her mouth was giving him, pleasures that he had never understood could be so wonderful. Without knowing what he was doing, he suddenly began thrusting his hips upward, sinking his cock deeper into the older woman's mouth.
Quickly Zelda rested her other arm over his pubic area, limiting the amount of thrust that he could make and sending still more frantic quivering of passion racing through his body. It was coming soon, she felt, and with that knowledge her mouth went to work more furiously, sucking and licking the shrieking nerves of his cock.
Yet, despite the boys' passion, Zelda felt herself slightly removed from the scene of which she was the main actress. Her mouth salivated around the head of the boy's cock and dripped down through his pubic hair until it curled over her fingers. And she knew that this was the way to make him come, make his boyish semen rush chokingly into the hot recesses of her mouth. She would have cried with the expectancy of it had her mouth been otherwise occupied, but the moisture from it dripping onto his balls and her fingers still sent new shivers of pleasure through her body. She hesitated a moment and then slowly pushed one soaking finger down under his scrotum and into the sensitive ring of his ass. His buttocks tightened and Zelda heard him moan as her finger slid moistly into his rectum and his body jerked uncontrollably.
The hot thick liquid filled her mouth instantly, but Zelda didn't gag or let go of the boy's penis. It was all that she wanted from him and she sucked him until she could feel the muscle of his manhood grow limp. When he had come, she had rammed her finger deep into his rectum, but as he pumped his last drop of come into her mouth she had slipped her finger from his ass and dropped her hand down to her own hot, wet crotch, angrily and hurriedly rubbing her clit until her soft, well-rounded thighs closed around her hand and the boy's cock slid softly from her mouth.
Zelda dropped her head down on the boy's abdomen, her eyes closed and her mouth still swallowing the semen and saliva, but her body was basking in the glow of her self-induced orgasm, her breath coming deeply as she struggled to regain her composure. Oh, damn, she sighed, how wonderful it was to have him come inside her mouth, how very powerful it made her feel that he was, for the moments of his lust at least, so helplessly in her clutches.
A smile crept across her mouth even as she licked the last drops of his come from her lips. A moment more, she thought, and she would put on her shorts and blouse and send him back to his place with the other boys, humbled and frightened, perhaps, at what she had done to him, but hers in the total way that sex can dominate the young. He would be hers from now on and not from him would there be any complaining about when the rescue boat would come. He was trapped in the way that even the strongest of adult males are trapped, in the hot confines of a woman's cunt or her mouth, trapped by the weakness of their flesh.
When Zelda stirred finally, getting up from his bedside, Ronnie still held his eyes tightly closed. His arm covered his forehead as if it could become a barrier between his inner self and the woman who did such things to him, things that he had never dreamed possible, not even in the wildness of his sexual fantasies while he stroked his cock to ejaculation.
He remained quietly on the bed as Zelda moved about the room, dressing and shuffling things. He wanted her to go away, to die, to leave him and the others alone. But he knew that the thing would come back and his cock would become hard again and he knew even as he thought about it that no longer would his hand be enough to bring about the relief that surged at the dam-locks of his groin. Right now he wanted her to die, but tomorrow, he knew, he would want to be right back where he was this evening.
"Get up, Ronnie," Zelda said. Her voice cut through the boy's reverie icily. It was the old Zelda Gruder speaking, commandingly and with the complete assurance that every word she uttered would be obeyed immediately. "Get up, young stud. And I don't want to hear any more nonsense talk about what a terrible condition we're in. We're lucky to be alive, young man."
Ronnie could make out her silhouette against the dim glow of the turned-down lantern. She had her back to him, fixing her brassiere or something, he thought, and then she turned completely away and turned up the lantern, sending its soft yet penetrating illumination all over the small room. The light startled him and he almost jumped from the bed and hurriedly pulled his shorts on.
Miss Grader, as Ronnie called her, gave him an embarrassingly familiar look as she lit a cigarette. He stood on the other side of her bed and tried to look back into her dark, knowing eyes, but she was too strong for him and his gaze dropped immediately down to the floor.
"And I need hardly tell you that you must not say a thing about what happened here tonight, Ronnie," she said, her voice still cool but with an overtone of conspiracy that Ronnie did not fail to catch. "And there will be other times," she added, this time almost coyly and very suggestively. Indeed, she thought, there would be a many more times with this kid. Involuntarily, she pressed her thighs together as she thought of his thick cock crammed into her cunt. "But now you had better get back to your own quarters. Good night."
The boy looked up once at Zelda Grader and mumbled his farewell. His face was still flushed when he finally reached the door of his sleeping quarters. He started to go in, but then turned and ran, barefoot across the sand and down to the beach.
Zelda watched him from the open doorway of her room, watched his hesitancy at his own quarters and smiled to herself when she saw him turn and go to the beach. That he might have been troubled by what she had done to him was just what she had intended to have happen. From experience she knew that he would take his frightened and much thrilled psyche down along the lonely shore and try to figure out what it was that had happened to him, and by the time he would be coming close to some sort of truth fatigue would overtake him and he would head back to sleep and forget and yet still remember all the fleshy delights that she had given him this night.
"You like what you do to small boys?"
The voice startled her for a split second before she regained her composure and turned to the speaker. It was Antonio, of course, the only other adult on the island beside herself. He would not have noticed that he had caught her by surprise. Antonio was much too engrossed in himself and what he could offer a woman of her passionate nature. She knew that because Antonio had told her. Another smile crossed her face and she turned to the darkly handsome face at the window.
"You like watching?"
Antonio laughed, showing his mouthful of white teeth, and walked around the outside of the hut. "May I come in for a treatment, Mees Gruder?" He said it with the same tone of irony that she had given him for his earlier question. He was at the door and close enough to Zelda for her to see his dark eyes, luminous even in the blackness of the tropical night.
She nodded and continued smoking her cigarette as he came in and went directly for the bottle of brandy. He had been there before and he knew the way. Zelda watched his lithe animal-like movement across the room. He oozed around, she thought, like a snake and, like a snake, he held her fascinated. Under the ripple of his dark flesh, she hungered more than once for the feel of his muscles crushing her in wild embrace, and when he had finally put his enormous cock between her legs and fucked her until she wanted to cry she knew that she had been right about him all during the trip. He was all animal and just as stupid, but he served her purposes, in bed and in the fear that he put into the group. He was her strong arm, but she knew that she would always remain the brain and the real power over her charges.
"You make yourself a little hot in the crotch, huh? What you need is a man, me. Get undressed, Mees Gruder," he said, emphasizing the way the kids called her. He was holding the brandy bottle to his lips, sipping indifferently as Zelda walked over to her bed and began undressing. Some of the fiery liquid dribbled from the corner of his mouth, but he didn't bother to lick it away. His eyes burned into Zelda as she shed her blouse and bra and then stepped out of her shorts in a casual manner.
What a strange wonderful piece of ass, Antonio thought as he savored the full development of Zelda's tits and the full swell of her hips and narrow waist. What a woman, and what a weirdo, he added.
There was no pretense on Zelda's part. She stood in the naked light exposing the feminine charms that she knew she was endowed with and endowed with very well. Something inside her made her feel powerful when she looked into Antonio's face as he stared at her bare flesh, and she knew that he was just as helpless as the young boy had been, but her power over Antonio would require more adult treatment for Antonio, despite what she might have thought of him as an adult, was physically a man.
She watched him burn his eyes into her warm flesh, and she felt the growing excitement of what was about to come build in her, a tingling of her skin, first drying and then turning slightly damp with the fever that raced through her body, a mist of perspiration on her forehead that was echoed between her legs.
Antonio put the brandy down and, unfastening the rope belt around his shorts, walked over to the bed. He let the shorts drop and stepped out of them, exposing his rigid cock to Zelda who never failed to become even more excited by the sight of it standing and ready to plumb the depths of her cunt, stretching the vaginal walls until she felt them almost rip apart. Antonio stood for a minute before her, smiling his own perversity as he recognized the hunger in her eyes.
Zelda walked around the bed to Antonio's side, her flesh burning for his touch and almost fearing it, too, for she knew that he would try to hurt her, humiliate her, and she knew that she would take it because she needed him for the time being. She wasn't surprised then when he reached out and cupped her breast in one of his huge hands, crushing the full globe of flesh until she wanted to cry. But she didn't cry and, in fact, felt some deep satisfaction in the slight pain that caused more pleasure than hurt.
"Fuck me, Antonio," she said, softly and pleadingly. "Fuck me."
Antonio pulled her close to his hot, sweaty body, pressing the thick pole of his manhood into the soft muscle of her belly. She came to him willingly and anxiously, grinding her body against his and throwing her arms around his neck. Their mouths met in a kiss that was more battle for supremacy than love, more lust than passion. She opened her mouth and shot her tongue into his, widening her lips until her teeth crushed against his lips and then she bit down until the taste of salty blood rolled back into her throat, sweet and heady. Antonio's hands crushed the soft layer of flesh over her hips, dug into that flesh until Zelda sensed the pain and let go of his lip. In their mutual pain they found something of each other and neither was really aware of when they laid down on the cot, Zelda's legs spread wide, her moist red slit eager for his throbbing hard cock.
Antonio was brutal with her. He pushed her legs back, arching them over his shoulders and rolling forward on top of her until her round haunches were elevated off the bed. He squatted before her, pulling the heavy globes of her ass apart, spreading the lips of her vagina wide with his thumbs and then rammed his prick into her, sinking the stiff rod down, down, down into her cunt until his balls nestled against the hot, damp crack of her ass. Zelda gagged down a scream at the tearing she thought that she would receive in the initial thrust, but then her nerves relaxed and she felt the enormity of Antonio's cock inside her belly, the gasp choked off, she arched her hips and rolled her haunches as much as she could in the position he held her. Now then was there such sweet pain, she thought as her body, without direction from her mind, took over and fell into the rhythm of lovemaking, of fucking, she corrected herself, for there could never be anything else but fucking with Antonio. Love making was for someone else. And she didn't bother answering herself who it might be.
Antonio was a great fucking machine, his powerful young body, muscles rippling and catching highlights with the film of perspiration over the dark flesh, hammered against Zelda, driving deep into her cunt and then withdrawing until just the purple swollen knob of his cock rested at the lips of her cunt. When he withdrew, Zelda felt that the vacuum in her belly and lunged her hips forward, eager to suck up that monster penis into the sheath of her body. Endless moments, she felt, Antonio would hold the throbbing end of his dick at the portal of her love and just as she thought she was about to scream he would ram it up her cunt in an act of brutal passion made even more beautiful for her because of the brutality of it.
They rutted for a long time, but Zelda was beyond all sense of time. She knew that he could make her come at will, and he did make her come with hardly more than a few strokes of his big penis. And then she came again and again until she lost count, until her body was dripping with sweat and the numbness in her upraised legs turned to chills and fears that he would never stop or that he would stop just as she was reaching another crescendo of orgasm. But he never failed to bring her off one last time before his own sperm erupted in her cunt, hot juice swelling her insides and blending with the tart secretions of her own spendings and sweat.
Antonio got up and put on his shorts. "That's a lot damned better than some punk kid, huh, baby?" He laughed and walked over to the brandy and took another deep swallow. "You must be some sort of nut, Mees Gruder, but it don't matter to me. Because you're one helluva fuck, too, and that's what it's all about."
"Don't be vulgar," she said as she reached down and pulled her own shorts on.
"Listen, cunt. I'll be as damned vulgar as I want to be here on this stinking island. Just when in the hell do you think that we'll be rescued? Tomorrow? Next week? Shit! We were blown so far off course that it's gonna take a year for anyone to find us."
Zelda glared at the man, trying to put him down to where he belonged, but then she noticed that he seemed very sober and serious. Was it possible? She didn't like to think that she would have to spend a year on the island no matter how delightful the prospect of getting all those kids into her bed seemed.
"You mean that we're really lost?"
"That's what I mean. Not that I give a damn. Hell, we got plenty of food and there's fresh water and look at the great accommodations the Army left here for us. But I don't think that we'll picked up very soon."
Antonio took another swallow of the brandy and turned to Zelda, a broad grin on his face and evil twinkle in his eye. "And just think of the fun we'll have with the kids, Mees Gruder. You get the boys, and I get the little broads. Not bad, huh?"
Zelda looked at him and tried to force herself to become serious, but it was, after all, just what she had been thinking ever since they landed on the island. Still, she thought, she mustn't let Antonio know that she agreed. It might become too sticky, she thought, more than they both could handle.
She didn't answer him. The idea had been hers all along and she knew that Antonio knew it.
There was no need to make a verbal answer. Zelda picked up a glass from the table and brought it over to him. He poured her a stiff belt of brandy and they toasted silently to the joys they hoped were coming. Then she looked up at Antonio, giving him her most haughty smile.
"And what makes you think that the girls will only be yours?"
Antonio lowered the bottle from his lips and stared down at Zelda, trying to penetrate the dark glare she was giving him. And then he knew that she was not kidding. He laughed. "So much the better, but I didn't know you liked little girls, too."
Zelda shrugged. A thrill was a thrill as far as she was concerned, and from some unknown depths in her make-up she often felt an overwhelming urge to make love to a woman, a very young woman, a girl. Her experiences in an all-girls' boarding school brought her latent tendencies into the open, but that had been some time ago. Still the urges were there and remained with her, hidden for most of her adult life, but never denied and rarely given in to.
"It's late, 'Tonio," she said. "Go to bed and I'll work something out. But you're sure that it'll be long time before someone finds us?"
"A long time, yes, that's a possibility. But you might try to get used to the idea that we may never be found."
Again Zelda looked startled and frightened, but that was the reaction that Antonio wanted to see. He laughed and walked out of the woman's hut. "Think about it, Mees Gruder. Think hard."
Zelda locked her door after Antonio left and then got onto the cot. It was still warm and slightly damp from their bodies, but she was fatigued from the efforts of the evening and closed her eyes.
It had happened so fast that she wasn't yet quite sure what it was. The storm hit their fifty-foot schooner early in the morning, still dark and made darker still by the screaming wind and rain. It was a nightmare of mountainous swells, groaning timbers and that ear-splitting snap as the boat's keel slammed into the reef. The impact threw her from her bunk. Then there was the rubber raft with all the kids clinging to it, and Antonio screaming orders at them and at her and then his powerful arm reaching out and pulling her to the relative safety of pitching raft.
Somehow they all made it to the shore, falling exhaustedly on the higher sand and sleeping away through the howling wind and the pouring rain. When she awoke the next morning, the sun was burning her face and the sea was flat. It looked like a slate of plate glass and then off about five-hundred yards was the mastless hulk of the schooner.
Antonio was already up and had built a fire. He had gathered all the kids around it, some almost naked, waiting for their shorts and blouses to dry. When she came down to the fire, he told her everything. Lanterns, supplies, and plenty of canned food, he said, pointing to a stack of boxes on the shore. He had gone out just at sun rise and carried it all back. Very dangerous. And no. There was no sign of the captain or the doctor, the other chaperon on the voyage.
That had been a week ago, she thought, her eyes no longer closed as she rested on the hot bed. They had all eaten and then wandered through the tropical palms, found fresh water and then the quonset huts. Antonio guessed that it must have been a military weather station, probably abandoned about a year earlier. But it was a home and shelter and within a couple of days, she and the kids had made the best of it.
Those were the easy days. The kids felt the sense of adventure and the work of restoring the huts to some sort of livable condition kept their minds off the fact of their plight. But the work didn't take enough time. When it was done, they complained and planned and some of them became a little hysterical. But it was nothing that Zelda Gruder could not handle, not until Ronnie began his little campaign of wanting to know what she and Antonio were actually doing about getting them rescued. He seemed like he was going to be trouble and she had merely wanted to reassure him that everything would be all right, but then it got out of hand. She forced the early evening's memory from her mind. But she knew that it was the best way to control the boys, and the girls, too.
Now the worst of their situation seemed to be over, Zelda thought. She got up from the cot and filled her brandy glass again. There wouldn't be too much more of that for a long time, she thought, just a few more months' supply at the rate of a bottle a week.
It was all wrong. She knew it was wrong, but then she also knew that she was getting no younger and if Antonio was right ...
Zelda was thirty years old, looking older when she dressed in her severe manner and wore her nurse's cap. Born of wealthy parents who died when she was young, she was raised in one private boarding school after another right through nursing school. It had all been very nice, being around the wealthy, but it was difficult for Zelda, a charity student in the schools simply because her father had once been a renowned surgeon. She was given a first-rate education, but never any of the money that she would have enjoyed had her parents lived; When she graduated, she found that her wealthy connections, hardly friends any more since she was poor, did provide her with numerous private assignments. The last, of course, on the luxury schooner for the dozen kids, rich and spoiled. It was an assignment that she loved. It was her chance to be the authority to the kids who had everything that she should have had and didn't.
Yes, she thought. They may have all the money they will ever need, but I have them now. She sipped the brandy and walked over to the window, looking for something at the black velvet night sky with its glittering blaze of tropical constellations. Her watch had been lost, but she guessed that it was somewhere around two in the morning, lonely time, quiet and dangerous. Did Ronnie return to the big hut? Go back to bed? For an instant she was almost willing to leave her room and check on him, but she shrugged. Where could he go? Another smile crossed her face and she went back to her cot, turning off the lantern on the way and leaving the last few drops of brandy in the glass by the side of the bed.
As she closed her eyes, she could picture her charges one by one, not clearly with all of them, but enough to remember their names. There was Ronnie, eighteen and shy, but he was just the first. She tried to visualize the other boys, pausing in her reverie over Martin, son of a Detroit contractor, eighteen, all-star athlete, natural leader. She made a note to be especially careful with him. He would need special treatment. And the others, again vaguely, she went over their names. Bob, eighteen, bully, son of a banker or something financial and just a little dumb. Phillip, a nothing, perhaps a little faggot? She dismissed him. Then three more, John, Henry, Alex, eighteen or eighteen, she guessed, but again nothing about them that made special consideration necessary.
And the girls? There were only five of them. Yes, that was it. One of the girls to the evenly matched dozen had gotten sick and her brother took her place. John or Henry? She would have to look it up in her medical files which had been saved.
Joan was the oldest. Zelda knew Joan very well. She was a tramp, a flirt, and quite obviously no virgin. Even before the group had gotten out of the last port, Zelda had had trouble with Joan. It wasn't anything very serious, a small matter of a midnight swim in the nude with Martin. And then there was Mary, same age as Joan, but quite the opposite type, virginal, quiet, too inhibited to reveal what Zelda could see, that she was very moony about Martin. She would be a special case, too, a most delightful one, Zelda thought.
There were other girls, too, but Zelda's mind drifted off to sleep without thinking much of them. Tomorrow, she was dreaming.