Chapter Eight
Rhone said, “Her white savage pussy seems as if it is trying to bite my fingers. Lucky it has no teeth!”
Deja bent over laughing, “Watch out for that white savage pussy!”
Journee felt pummeled internally and verbally, and emotionally.
But it was working on her. Working against her but working for her burgeoning orgasm, building pressure inside her.
Somehow, here, in this placid and clear pool, on a calm sunny day, Journee experienced a perfect storm of multiple storms joining forces to turn her into sexual wreckage.
Their domination.
Her submission.
The humiliation.
“I’m… an American… milk slut!”
Journee was almost there. She was almost at her orgasm. A place she should not go to and did not want to go to before this started, and yet she was now desperate to arrive at her orgasm.
But then Pindpo said, “Rhone, you must not forget. The new trick.”
Rhone agreed, “Yes, the show. The display. Thank you, Pindpo, for your reminder.”
Journee dazedly wondered what was going on.
A show? But she was already putting on a show. Wasn’t Deja watching and laughing?
A new trick? Journee did not know any tricks. She felt tricked but not like she was a trickster.
They pulled her to the side of the pool, and Journee floated along in the water, her mind also floating. She felt like a needy pussy weighed down by her anchoring body.
They hauled her up out of the pool, slopping her onto the cement on her back. Her knees were bent, and her feet were still in the water. The sun nearly blinded her, but she saw Deja looming over her, looking down at her with interest.
She dimly thought, “Now Deja can see all of me, naked, even more clearly. Up close and personal.”
Pindpo was out of the water at her side, and Rhone was still in the water in between Journee’s legs.
Rhone said, “I will thrust fingers inside her slut box, and you—"
Pindpo said, “I will arouse her clitoris!”
And that is what they did. Rhone inserted two fingers and drilled them in and out in a corkscrewing motion. Pindpo leaned over and lapped at Journee’s clitoris.
Right away, Journee knew what this would lead to and quickly. An orgasm.
Deja took a long slurp from her drink. For some reason, the almost-rude slurping sound turned Journee on. It was like masochism for the ears.
Deja, still standing, leaned over Journee. She took another long slurp.
“Oh, fuck,” thought Journee, “If she takes one more slurp, I’m going to cum!”
A droplet of cold condensation dripped from Deja’s drink and spattered onto Journee’s left breast.
Oh, God….
Deja giggled meanly, not at all like the woman Journee met in D.C. and who traveled with them all this way, always acting so eager to please.
Deja said, “I think I’ll cool off this white savage just a tad. Or maybe heat her up.”
Then…
… Deja worked her mouth for a few seconds and spat down on Journee, a big wad of foamy saliva that landed on Journee’s right breast.
Journee gaped, unable to say or do anything. Pindpo’s tongue and Rhone’s fingers were piling too much sensation into her.
Then…
… Deja took another long, irritating slurp from her drink….
Journee orgasmed, thrashing like she was trying to make her body do the wave. Her shoulder blades scraped cement, her pussy boxed Pindpo’s face, and she made a wavering groan that sounded like she was the victim of agonizing torture.
Rhone yelled, “Look now, sisters! Look at the American milk slut pussy! Look, and you will see!”
Everyone looked, even shaking, contorting Journee as she orgasmed. She had no idea what she was looking for but barely knew her name at that point. She looked down across her body, seeing her hips lift her pussy like an offering to the sky gods.
A spray of liquids erupted from Journee’s pussy. Droplets sprinkled in all directions. Onto Rhone. Against Pindpo’s face. Even back onto Journee’s torso. Even up to her breasts.
Journee’s body tensed all over, and then she sprayed again. Rhone and Pindpo’s faces withdrew further away, but Rhone, with her pussy-inserted fingers, lifted Journee’s ass even higher off the cement as Journee sprayed.
Most of Journee’s second spray went toward her face. It didn’t quite make it other than a few tiny droplets, but the liquid crashed against Journee’s small breasts and rinsed Deja’s spit off Journee’s right breast.
Almost out of her mind from the orgasm and her pussy’s reaction, Journee still noticed a heavy citric odor.
Deja exclaimed, “Now ain’t that something!”
Pindpo nodded eagerly, “Yes! We make her pussy do the new trick!”
Deja said, “My boss’s daughter is a fucking squirter! That’s fucking great! How’d you make her do that?”
Rhone said, “We can share that secret. You are our skin sister. We made her eat the fruit yesterday, the Fika. She who eats Fika one day will squirt the next day. Pindpo and I eat it every day.”
Deja marveled, “Fika, you say? More like freaky if you ask me. Give me the rights to farm that shit, and I bet I'll make a fortune.”
Rhone and Pindpo said in unison, “Talk to the Queen.”
Journee lay exhausted, breathing heavily, and soaked in various types of liquids.
She was dazed and amazed. She thought, “Wow. I’m a squirter. These black bitches made me into a squirter.”
She wasn’t sure if she should be resentful or grateful. The pleasures still washed back and forth through her soaking-wet body.
She guessed it did not matter how she should feel or how she did feel. They would do whatever they wanted to her. And, whatever they did, Journee bet she’d cum and cum.
She knew there would be more of this. A lot more. They were going to come here every day, probably. They’d keep making her do this trick with the squirting or maybe teach her some new tricks.
She’d learn them, and she’d do them. This thing had started, and she had no idea how to end it or if she even wanted to stop it.
Pindpo said gleefully, “What should we do with American milk slut next?”
The End
… Until Book 5…
What, indeed, will they do next with the “American milk slut?”
Deja wouldn’t take sexual advantage of young Journee, would she?
After Deja already took advantage of Journee’s mother?
You bet she would!
But we might not learn more about that until book 6.
After all, what about Margot Parrow? While these events took place at the Ambassador’s Residence, Margot is with the Queen again. How do you think Queen Muunu is treating Journee’s mother?
Ahh, diplomacy….