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Crude – ebook

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Crude by Jo-Anne Wiley, with special assistance provided by Toni Kelley

The author of Poison, Dark Angels, Crash Diet, Porn and others has penned another edgy erotic thriller. One not for the faint of heart!

Ten female specialists and ten grizzled wildcatters are thrown together on a derelict offshore drilling rig. However, someone has arrived ahead them – someone intent on killing. The Supervisor is murdered, two female divers violated, and the radio-room is ransacked leaving the women cutoff and vulnerable. As one would expect, the line-of-command unravels. Seizing the opportunity, the men are determined to take from the women what isn’t rendered willingly. Two female specialists who attempt to escape the butchery are stripped and found with their faces bound between each others’ thighs: a dire warning to the others. The women rebel when an arms locker is discovered and retribution is swift: The Foreman loses his parenting gear to the nurse’s scalpel. But the women have yet to meet the real enemy. Super-yacht Excelsior waits, just beyond the horizon.

Expect a rough ride with this one. Includes nonconsensual, hard fucking, pussy, ass and mouth, girl-on-girl, group sex, violence and more.

Artist Credit

Cover Art © artofphoto/diter/numskyman/Darren Baker/Irochka

ISBN

978-1-954079-72-4

Page Count

253

Publish Date

04/15/2022

Word Count

125802

Excerpt

Tyson rapped on Kurt’s door. “We want a word with you, Kurt.” She rattled the knob. “Please step outside so we can have a look at yuh.”

There was the shuffle of feet from beyond but Tyson didn’t wait to be invited in. She tossed back the door and got a hand on Kurt’s collar.

Kurt, a start of fear in his eyes, saw the gun that Cat had trained on his genitals. “What the fuck?”

Tyson pulled him toward the door. “C’mon Kurt. We’ve got a few questions and I know you’ll be anxious to unload your guilt.”

Kurt tried to push her hand away. “Guilt? I got no guilt. Not about nothin’. I didn’t touch that girl, you hear? Now c’mon, put the gun away.”

“That’s not what we heard, Kurt. There’s a ton of shit going down on this rig. Someone tried to gas us and now there’s raping an’ killing going on. And word is you know more that you pretend.”

“Who the Christ said that? It’s a fuckin’ lie. Why you picking on me? I didn’t do nothing.”

Tyson swung him around and Kurt stumbled into the passageway. “Where you taking me?”

“Someplace we can have a private conversation.”

Kurt was bullied onto the gantry outside. “Anything you need to ask me can be asked in front of my buddies.”

“Your buddies are a bunch of fuck-ups, Kurt. Not much use to you or themselves. Ask Butch.”

The thought of Butch with the end of his cock sticking out of his shirt pocket had an immediate effect on Kurt. “Okay– okay. Look, I tol’ you. I don’t know nothing but that doesn’t mean I won’t cooperate.”

“Nice to know. Now, down the stairs.”

Kurt glanced over a shoulder at the salt water. “Where you taking me?”

“Don’t worry. Drowning your sorry ass would be too easy. Now move. To the welding shop.”

Kurt was shoved, tripping and stumbling, down the stairs to the lower tier. Cat kept the Beretta trained on him while she opened the door with a free hand. Tyson pushed Kurt through and then backed him up against one of the steel columns that supported the tier above. “Hands behind your head.”

Tyson dug a nylon electrical zip-tie from her pocket and, pulling Kurt’s arms back, she secured his wrists to the pillar. “There,” she said, eyeing him once he was trussed up. “Now we talk. You like hot dogs, Kurt?”

Kurt’s eyes lifted. “Hot dogs? What the hell…”

Tyson looked to where Cat stood grinning. “Simple enough question, don’t you think?” Cat nodded her head.

Tyson turned her attention back to Kurt. “Going to be a long afternoon Kurt, if you can’t even answer the simple ones.”

“Okay– okay, yeah, sorry. Sure, hot dogs, with ketchup and that yellow relish stuff.”

“Very good,” Tyson sounded slick. “Cat. You want this?”

Cat stepped forward. “Yeah, let me.” She handed the Beretta to Tyson. “I love this part.” And she quickly unzipped Kurt’s jeans and pulled his penis out through the opening.

Kurt, with fresh visions of Butch twisting under Amy’s scalpel, sagged against his restraints. “My God, you wouldn’t…”

“Mmm,” Cat cuddled Kurt’s penis, “he’s nice. And not even hard yet.” She lifted Kurt’s face by the chin. “You gonna get hard for me, Kurty? Show me what a big man you are? Huh Kurty?”

Tyson pulled a cigarette lighter from her shirt pocket. “Geez Cat. We don’t have time to fuck him.”

Cat looked hurt. “We got all afternoon…”

Tyson shot her a look and stepped forward– sparked the lighter and adjusted the flame. “Hold his dick up. I’ll start by crisping up the tip a little. Time for a hot dog.”

Cat was deftly stroking Kurt’s foreskin. “C’mon Tyson, you always want-ta spoil the fun. We got lots of time. Relax. We’ll burn him after I’m finished.”

Kurt groaned and sank heavily against his restraints. “Please. I told yuh. I don’t know nothing.”

“Never mind her,” Cat soothed and she pushed his jeans and cotton briefs down past his knees. “She’s always in such a big hurry, but you and I will have a little fun first, okay? Before she roasts your wiener, I mean.” Cat started unbuttoning Kurt’s shirt.

Kurt, with the sweat suddenly bursting from his pores, tried desperately to think of something to say. A bone he could offer up before Tyson toasted his cock like a marshmallow. But the cogs in his brain had become unmeshed and he couldn’t think to speak. Cat’s hands where on his chest, nails scraping through the hairs, and she was moving close.

“God. Nice abs. Do yuh see this Tyson?” Cat pulled her tee shirt up and tempted herself, running rubbery nipples against the hard muscle. “Mmm…” Her breath became weighted and she pressed closer with a hand behind Kurt’s neck, and lower with her opposite hand, she was lightly squeezing his balls.

Tyson looked away, bored. “A lifetime of working the rigs will do that to a man. You gonna fuck him, or what?”

“Might. If he could ever get it up for me.”

Tyson rummaged in a pocket of her jump suit. “You want a beer?”

“Yeah. In a minute.” Cat took a hold of the hem of her tee shirt and peeled it up over her head. “What do you say, Kurt. You wanna fuck me?”

Kurt should have been thrilled. Cat was decent. Not the most attractive woman on the rig, but still: A muscular blonde with perky tits and a hard ass. Normally he would have considered himself a very lucky boy indeed, to have Cat come on to him. And there had been times, more than a few, that he had held himself beneath the bed sheet and wondered what those bossy tits would look like– would feel like in the cup of his hand.

And now those tits were being offered to him. He could see the tempting curve and slope. He had felt the resiliency of the nipples, plowing, bending and turning on themselves against his chest. But any stirring he might have had in his groin was extinguished by the sight of Tyson sucking beer and toying with her cigarette lighter. She was watching with keen interest as Cat got down on her knees.

Cat lifted his limp member and studied the pee-hole. “Geez Kurt, your not helping the cause any. How’s a girl supposed to squeeze this up inside?” And dropping her face, she planted a sloppy kiss on the velvety head. “Not even a drop of pre-cum as enticement,” she said, checking the pee-hole again for moisture. “This well has run dry, my friend.” Kurt shriveled in her hand.

“Give it up,” Tyson called out. “Ask him what he knows about the dude hiding on the rig. The guy intent on killing all of us, sending us up in a massive fireball.”

Tyson set the beer down and Kurt watched her start to uncoil a length of stout wire. “W-what’s she going to do with that?” He forced words through a throat packed with fear.

Cat glanced over. “It’s a piece of aluminum wire, Kurt. Aluminum transfers heat. If you don’t tell us what we want to know, Tyson is going to run that wire up your dick. She’ll put a welder’s torch to the end of it and the heat will run up the wire until it’s sizzling hot. Tyson is going to cook your meat from the inside out. So might I suggest you tell us all you know before the barbecue begins.”

To substantiate Cat’s claim, Tyson picked up a butane torch from the workbench and held her Bic lighter under the nozzle. There was a sound like air escaping, then with a whoosh a bright blue flame shot from the end of the torch. “Thing’s full of gas,” Tyson commented with a slick smile.

Kurt withered at the thought of a white-hot wire burning inside his cock. “Oh God. Look Cat, we’re friends, right?” he whispered. “You know I’ve always had a thing for you. Always thought you were special somehow, the best of all the chicks on the rig. And I always hoped you liked me too. So please, you have to believe me, here. I don’t know nothing about some dude hiding on the rig,” he said, close to tears.

Cat was concentrating on unzipping her jeans and ignored his plea. “Tyson is the one you have to convince, Kurt. I mean if it was up to me we’d go back to your compartment and fuck the afternoon away. You like my puss?”

Kurt rolled his eyes down. There was a puff of curly, dishwater blond between her legs. The rolls were separated and swollen lips protruded in the hair. He saw moisture glistening in the folds. “Oh God…”

Cat opened a clasp knife and reached up. “Get down on the floor Kurt, on your back. I want you to lick it. It’ll take your mind off what Tyson is going to do to you.”

There was the pull of the knife and the plastic restraint eased, then let go completely and Kurt sagged to his knees. “Please don’t burn me…”

“All the way down, Kurt.” And she pulled off her jeans and straddled his face. Cat separated the halves of her sex and rubbed the sopping vaginal lips along Kurt’s face, finally engulfing his open mouth and working at her own clit with curled fingers. “Let’s feel some tongue,” Cat hissed.

Kurt quickly forced his tongue up, into the open hole that was being offered by Cat’s stretched-wide fingertips. He licked, sucked and probed as Cat jillied about, rotating her hips in lithe comma-shaped movements.

His scream of terror was muffled in the leaking tissues.

Tyson had got down beside him and taken a hold of his sagging penis, hopelessly slack with the apprehension of the wire. His eyes bugged and he blinked furiously, waiting for the tearing jab, but instead all he felt was her fingers moving, gliding purposefully along the loose skin of his penis; attempting to coax the flagging muscle to greater achievements. It was almost comforting but the sudden realization grounded him in blinding panic: She needed him hard so she could insert the wire up into the urethral duct.

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