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Ben-her (Frack Anders)


Ben-her by Frack Anders

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    • Average 4.0 from 1 ratings

Philippa de Winter, through a series of unfortunate coincidences, finds herself in the hands of the vicious Denton, who blames her for everything that has happened to him. He is now in charge of the harem, after the fall of the Great Leopard, and has plans...
One of these plans is an arena for a human pony chariot race. His first task is to make the helpless female slaves haul the marble into place to make the arena, the second is to race in it ... under duress, of course. He commands that the sadistic black twins be one of the teams, much to their horror and amazement.

Product type: EBook    Published by: Fiction4All    Published: 5 / 2012

No. words: 40000

Style: HAREMS AND SLAVES, Fem Dom - F/F, Male Dom - M/F

Available Formats: Palm  MobiPocket (MOBI)  EPUB  Sony Reader (LRF)  PDF  MS Reader  This book has a format which can be downloaded to Kindle


Excerpt

Chapter One

‘Baldyman, you have a visitor.’
Albert Denton shoved the fuck-mag hurriedly under his pillow. The mystified Londoner rose to his feet and stepped carefully over the other prisoners, half-expecting the summons to be a pretext for another beating, but he followed the guard to the day room anyway. He obeyed Fuckface and slid into the designated booth then lit the last of his carefully hoarded cigarettes and waited for who knew what.
It had been three years since he’d last seen her; three years of sweating, pussyless misery in a crowded cell with only his hand and his overactive imagination to give him relief from the never-ending sexual frustration. He found it hard to breathe as the Vietnamese babe sashayed into her side of the wired divide and settled her firm bottom on the bench. If anything, the diminutive twenty-one-year-old had grown even more feminine; her chest had filled out and she’d lost the little boy look she’d had when he’d first found her hustling for blowjobs on the streets of Saigon.
Denton still loathed the idea of crediting himself with even the slightest of redeeming virtues and yet he’d rescued her, succoured her and protected her until she attached herself to him like some lovelorn limpet. She’d repaid him in ways that he couldn’t have imagined; she introduced him to the real white powder underground; it was thanks to her that he was able to build up a rock solid network along the golden trail that led from the hinterlands of Cambodia to the brazen markets of Bangkok and ultimately the moneyed gateway to the real drug dealers far to the west.
He was suddenly fearful; his eyes flashed fire, but he gave her a smile.
‘Trinh, you haven’t?’
The fetid air filled with her musical laughter.
‘No, baby, it’s all still there; you always my numba one.’
She thrust a delicate hand between her legs to give her crotch a reassuring massage and Denton pretended relief, but it was the drugs he was referring to.
‘Baby,’ he promised her, ‘when I get out of here, I’m gonna buy you the moon.’
The lady boy was forced to cross her legs to contain her excitement.
‘Mmm, sugar,’ she cooed, ‘I’ve been saving this all for you; me gonna love you, long time...’
Denton doubted the sincerity of her words. The little sperm addict had probably sucked off half the male populace by now in her tireless search for cock, but c’est la vie; it was the heroin that really concerned him.
She’d excited him in ways he was loathe to admit; give him a regular female to beat and to fuck and he’d be in like Flynn, but he was still burdened with an infantryman’s staid strictures. Homo was a no-no, according to his distinctly odd sense of morality,and yet, the minute he’d seen her naked with those magnificent, firm titties of hers so glaringly in contrast with the throbbing penis between her soft thighs, his own massive weapon had betrayed him. Admittedly he’d been drunk; he’d sat opposite her in a cheap hotel room and watched her excite herself with her fingers and when she contrived somehow to lean back in her chair and lock her ankles behind her neck in order to compress her supple body and suck herself off, he’d squirmed in horror at the sudden surge in his boxer shorts. Any other red-blooded male more at ease with himself may have grinned with delight and joined the transsexual beauty in a mutual jack off session, but not Albert. No, he was doomed to the delusions of a fevered mind forever locked in conflict with itself; he’d gritted his teeth instead, drained the bottle of whiskey and endured what he had supposed to be the unendurable, knowing that the strange creature must somehow hold the key to his future resurrection.
Time had proved him right after all; for here she was, loyal to the last and having only just contrived to organise a pardon for the hulking Englishman through the payment of an outrageous series of bribes, all for the purest of motives; for Trinh Tuyet was still hopelessly in love with what she supposed to be her English saviour and benefactor.
Albert Denton harboured no such feelings for the boy-girl, but his cunning mind knew well enough to string her along and to extract as much mileage as he could from the faux relationship in order to further his own eternally selfish ends.
He regarded her now with a facsimile of romantic gratitude.
‘Sugar,’ Albert apologised, ‘you know I don’t dig that kind of lovin’, but you’re still my number one. Say,’ he coughed, ‘what about the, you-know-what?’
She made a face. There was no one she loved more than her cruel English Albert, but he hadn’t changed one iota. He could at least pretend, goddamn him.
‘All safe, my darling and I did as you say; I trade one block of brown to Chinaman for big dollar; he don’t trick me,’ she smiled and licked her blowjob lips. ‘I give dollars to sergeant Sriphungwa and he let me see you today with good news.’
She blanched at the look in his eyes.
‘You go free tomorrow,’ she whispered hastily, ‘I meet you with car 12 noon then we make love for first time?’
He had to admit there had been many occasions in the last three years when he’d been sorely tempted to surrender some of his precious tobacco ration in order to stick it to her kind.
‘Sure, baby,’ he mollified her.
Freedom was just hours away; for one absurd moment he regretted his stash of carefully hoarded fuck mags, then he shook his shaven head in disbelief; he was still thinking like a jailbird. He was going empty his balls alright, but his ten inch prick was strictly womb-bound; pretty soon it would be hammering its way into the soft flesh of the purest, feminine variety. He figured he’d need a minimum of three prostie bitches in a bed for starters; meanwhile, he wondered how the hell she’d gotten the dope across the Thai border.

He’d taught her to drive his beat up old Citroen and it must have taken nerves of steel for her to cruise through the guns with the threat of a lifetime behind bars and a quarter ton of pure brown secreted within the vehicle.
What he would never know or appreciate was the cunning little vixen turning up at the obscure checkpoint at two in the morning with her valiant heart fluttering in terror.
The drunken guard had sauntered his way up to her and stuck his head through the car window; she’d given him an inviting smile then she’d pulled up the hem of her dress to reveal all seven inches of her raging hard on and in the end, she’d taken on all three of them. She’d left them fucked, sucked and satiated, then she’d alternately cried and giggled her way back to Bangkok with her precious cargo still intact and all for him, for love ... but would he ever appreciate it?

His eyes confirmed her worst fears; they were manic, driven, obsessed with demons of his own; White Man demons she could never hope to comprehend.
The indefatigable Denton had always known his star would rise again. His days of fucking and beating and raping young girls were far from over, and as if to confirm it, his angry prick was beginning to swell with murderous impatience. Soon it would be let loose once more to hunt its favourite prey, but it would require money, lots and lots of serious money.
He gave her his best lover boy smile.
‘Book me a flight to Hamburg, will you, sugar? I gotta see a man about some Horse...’


Reviews

I like the author's style. Plenty of pony girl action. 4 out of 5

Author Information

a writer with a very wild and devious imagination!

 

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