Fookka Fiika Girl
By Wolff

© 2006 by Wolfwerks


Tina was jerking and twisting her head. She was desperately trying to see what is going on. As the room filled she though she saw Angelina Jollie in that Lara Croft jumpsuit, leading on leash Freddie M in latex ledder-hosen and jaunty beret. He seemed quite alive. Twilight Zone time again, she thought. (No you are way past twilight. This is the night and its maw has taken you irreversibly. Irreversible!.)

Lara 'The lips' Croft faced her - and winked. Stunned Tina was still staring at her when the girl was brought in and thrown on her knees in the circle of mock serious faces...

Tina blinked....



Sheik Generic pompously strutted towards the uniformed girl.

She knelt before him like votive sacrifice; hands tied on her back, wrapped up to her elbows with wide camel-hide strips, white knees sock oh legs, black and white saddle shoes on her feet. She wore starched white blouse with short sleeves, shirt collar, buttoned in front, tucked into a stiff pleated navy blue skirt. A monogram on the pocket over the heart shouted in red: OVER 18! P.U.M. (Please Use Me!)


She was drooling around the ring gag stretching her mouth painfully. Her green eyes were wide and fixed him with a look perfectly defining a cross between absolute dread and absolute worship. Auburn ponytail hung down her white blouse.

One of the men started chanting "ooo" and the others took it. The whole room was reverberating with ominous, sonorous "oooo" sound seemingly coming from nowhere...

Sheik Generic was bare breasted, lose pantaloons letting his bulging dick stick out, his two slaves, faces covered with black gauze right behind him. He grabbed her auburn head with both hands and arched back as much as he could. He almost lost his footing, his cock pointing toward ceiling, his head stretched back and down, his face a grinning mask. He was trembling with that "ooo' vibration that permeated the room. It was obviously taking him beyond - into fuck-spaces unknown.

Suddenly both his massive slaves intoned in unison: "Aaaaaand...."

The chant stopped. Sheik rose on the balls of his feet poised, his body tense as a bow, his hands almost crushing the head of his petrified receptacle.


Black hawk's single eek-eeking scream impaled that moment of silence - the harbinger of doom. Smoke columns over braziers danced appreciatively. Ruddy firelight stretched swaying shadows.


"A Fookkka fookka fookatta ... A Fikka fikka fikka fikkatta .." Slaves began to chant in voices full of glottal stops.

On cue, the Sheik swung his body forward with all his might. His thunder-hard, cock swung in glistening arc, unerringly finding its offered target.

He SLAMMED his cock in her face. It rushed in forcefully the open mouth of helpless snotty bitch like Fukuoka express, ramming its way towards her gullet. She buckled as he immersed it to the hilt. The crowd gasped, definitely forgetting their little drinks. From his shoulder perch the hawk screeched again voraciously.

He pulled out. Only his helmet remained in, swimming in saliva brimming her mouth. Keeping rhythm with the fookka-fiikka chant he started pummeling the hapless captive's mouth - sacrificing to twisted Gods Of Unnamable Cums which are surely nonexistent (Are they? She wondered). With each trust her lips were squashed by his pubis, her face smashed into his pubic hair, lemon-like balls swinging forcefully against her chin.

Tina was appalled at this senseless display. She thought that poor girl will surely suffocate in this barbarian face-fucking ceremony. Her stretched limbs were already hurting and her own ordeal had not even started yet.

Fookka-fiikka went on.

She spied the Wolf in the crowd. He was grinning at her. His mouth formed O as the OOO chant returned.

As OOO replaced fookka-fikka chant Generic resumed the waiting pose. He arched back so far that his hands barely reached the head of kneeling "Catholic Girl." A thick strand of pearly mixture of pre-cum and saliva trailed from his heaven- defying cock to sacrifice's mouth.

She was gasping and spluttering, her body heaving spasmodically as she tried to catch her breath. White blouse was covered with dark splotches. Her tear brimmed eyes could not discern much. She felt only steely fingers griping her head and incredible stretching of the ring gag in her sore mouth. Her tongue was lolling jerkily. It's dripping tip swung this way and that like frightened rabbit peeking from its hole to see if the danger is gone.

It wasn't.

Chant resumed and he stared pummeling the throat of his kneeling victim again.

"A Fookka fookka fookatta A Fikka fikka fikka fikkatta .."

Tina wanted to scream, wishing she could stoop her ears.

She couldn't. She swung her gaze and spied Justin Timberlake in the excited crowd. He was in full leather regalia, his bare chest graced with screaming tattoo: I WILL NEVER OPEN MY MOTH AGAIN BUT TO SUCK COCK! He was drooling around his penis gag as he watched ritual face fuck and his lips were trying to join the crowd: Fooka Fikka … I must be crazy, she thought. (Crazy? You are way past madness entrance point and into screaming darkness of Gods of Unnamable Cums.)

Ritual skull fucking of the kneeling girl went on for long time. In ooo periods- the waits - she clung to him like heaving, rag doll pulled off the ground entirely, her bound arms rising and falling in mute call for un-forthcoming help.

Suddenly on the inward swing, he screamed. The hawk on slave's shoulder echoed it.

Men stared intoning high iii chant. Slaves went into fast "Akhbar wooha a wooh" litany. In seizure, Sheik Genric pumped his first load of royal jism in her throat. Then he pulled out. The cock fired massive sticky globules of cum on the wet fuck-surface. Once it was a face. Soon it will be face again - but not now. It was red, puffed, welted. Most of it dripped off delirious 'Catholic Girl's' head.

After jerking for a long time he collapsed, spent. She also collapsed in trembling, sobbing heap. Sobs sounded strange - ring gag was still there.


Iiii chanting stopped. Smoke columns could rest from their frenzied belly dancing. As the aromatic wood dwindled to smoldering cinders attendants poured sacks of Grill Charcoal on braziers.

It was typical Masque of Red death moment. Then, disturbing the eternal now of the hypnotic moment, nervous snippets of conversation bubbled in the crowd.

Other kind of ceremony was about to begin. In festive mood once again guest clanked ice in their glasses merrily.

Tina wished she could faint. Her manacled limbs and twitching pussy affirmed that she could not.

Instead, she blinked...