MISTRESS DISTRESS [Geoff Merrick]

MISTRESS DISTRESS

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MISTRESS DISTRESS #1
by Geoff Merrick. All rights reserved.
Illustrations by STEVE

In the quiet, dimly lit penthouse apartment, blonde, beautiful Raquel Brookfield tried to scream in the closet.

But no matter how her wrists twisted and her remarkable 5’5”, 34D-23-34 inch body strained within the hot yellow micro-mini dress, her body could only undulate in place, and the flesh, sinew, muscle, and bones sunk deep into her face, sealing her lips, would not budge.

Raquel had been so proud of herself — fresh out of school, her sugar daddy’s money buying her the best marks possible …without putting out. But her sugar daddy’s money didn’t have to buy her this chest, this body, this hair, or this face. That came with the sweet, teasing, flirty package.

She loved being a girl and really appreciated her breasts … almost more than sugar daddy did. So round, yet so pendulous. So firm and yet so full. The ample cleavage touched itself even without the help of a miracle bra. Even the aureoles and nipples were near perfect: just a slightly darker shade of pink and no bigger than a sand dollar.

She enjoyed their strength and flounce, equally enjoying the sight of her soft blonde hair dancing on their creamy tops.

Naturally, Raquel loved looking in the mirror whereshe could see her bright, sparkling, blue eyes, perfect nose, and pink lips — the latter always brushed with shining frost. She had loved the feel of the cool, skintight, vinyl spandex on her flesh as well as the pale saffron lace thong cupping her silken tuft just below its hem.

Years before she had already gotten so used to perilously high heels that she could climb stairs and even run in the spikes as if in sneakers. That’s how long she had been wearing heels — almost since she was in shoes, when it became obvious that the hair would stay blonde and the eyes blue and the body started developing around her 12th birthday.

Now it had been nearly a decade of privilege that only female physical beauty could give. At 13 she had decided between the smile and the pout. The pout had gotten her lust. The smile had gotten her everything else. One raise of the head and look of those eyes could get her way.

One smile and people wanted to give her things.

And she started serious taking them five years later, making her choices from whatever was best from a wide range of possibilities. Single guys wanted to possess her completely. At least the married ones gave her some space, as well as apartments, clothes, cars, and the rest. And Teddy … Theodore, actually … was the best of the local bunch.

Theodore X. Slattery. Married with two children. He had to work in even greater secrecy than the others, since his battle-ax was sharp and heavy, indeed. That gave Raquel even more freedom, and made Teddy all the more grateful. She had wondered what show of gratitude he’d give her tonight. But no more.

As soon as she had stepped in and sweetly called “Teddy?” in her sweet voice, something clamped over her mouth like a vise. Something wrapped around her waist like a python. And then she was off the ground.

Raquel cried out in surprise. Correction: she tried to cry out. The shadow was so tight across her lips, its tip sunk so deep in her face cheek that all she could do was make a dainty grunt, like an elevator settling. Then another shadow appeared, sealing her in place. For the next few seconds, Raquel was so overwhelmed all her mind could do was freeze.Never had she ever imagined that this could happen, so she was completely unprepared for it. A sudden attack, yes. She was always prepared for that. While her extraordinary beauty ejected all but the most secure of men, she was ready if a show-off or rival decided to embarrass her with a sudden squeeze. But this was nothing like that.For a split hysterical second, Raquel even considered that she was being assaulted by a supernatural force, but then her overwhelmed brain started to feel the fingers that clamped her lower face, the arm that crushed her waist, and the men who were sandwiching her against the cupboard wall.

_____________________

Deep in the shadows in a narrow chamber, her wrists were grabbed and wrenched behind her, then wrenched behind the man holding her. Padded steel clamped tightly around her lower arms. She was now embracing the attacker behind her, her chest thrust forward. Her eyes bulged above the clamping hand in unreasoning shock.

Instinctively she almost kicked out, but then she felt another iron hand on her right ankle and heard the swish of a plastic strap. Her ankle was corded, and then the other. Then she felt hot breath on her face and rock-hard muscles on her front and rear.

“Shut up,” she heard a deep, quiet voice say. She went crazy, writhing and screaming and struggling. A hand closed around her throat. The bodies behind and in front of her sealed her like a hydraulic press. Her contorting was meaningless against these weights, and she couldn’t breathe. She hung there, her shoes barely touching the ground, still unable to comprehend what had happened. “Teddy?” It was a tiny, faraway call to begin with, but from behind the clamping, sealing, pressing, gripping hand it was hardly a mew.

“Little dear won’t be quiet,” came a low rumble from behind her.

“Better make her quiet,” came an equally low murmur directly in front of her face.

Raquel stilled like a deer in headlights. The one thing her overwrought mind now knew was that she didn’t stand a chance against these two. She was nothing if not realistic.

She twisted herself in their grip, making a plaintive begging sound. If her body could talk, it would’ve said (in a sweet, innocent, little girl’s voice): “Oh please don’t hurt me … I’ll do anything … anything…!”

The reaction was immediate and literally stunning. They regripped her. For a split second the hands were off her mouth and throat. A nanosecond later they were reclamped with even greater fervor, her body crushed between them like cream being squeezed within iron monoliths.

She couldn’t speak, she couldn’t breathe, and she could hardly move. She practically hummed between them, only little flashes of flesh and slick, hot, yellow being glimpsed between the darkness of their clothes and skin.

Swimming into her sight, finally, was a face. A dark face with dark eyes. Even the teeth and pupils of the eyes seemed darkened. “None of that … bitch.”

“Enough,” grunted the man behind her. “Move. He could be here any second….”

“Teddy?” she almost said, but the fingers crushing her luscious little mouth was all but a brick of plaster across her lips, threatening to rip open her pretty face. Her body surged up slightly with hope but shook in their grip as she felt fingers tickling just beneath the hem of her skirt.

“Shut …up …,” said the one in front.

“Move it,” demanded the other.

And then she felt the fingers pinch at her thong…. Her sensitivity was never in question. In addition to her genetic gifts, she had prided herself on her sexual acting. She didn’t have to act now.

Almost before her head processed the sensation, something was surging inside her. She saw it. The figure before her bent his knees slightly. She felt it, her eyes widening. Then she felt it more and more, her eyes bulging. A huge penis was thrusting up into her like a python through a burrow, the panty shoved aside like a piece of litter.

It didn’t stop. It kept going — farther than Teddy’s ever would or could — farther than she had ever felt … and it … just … kept … going! Raquel wrenched upwards, trying desperately to escape. Incredibly they seemed to let her and then their hands and arms clamped on a third time, impossibly hard. The shaft inside her, also impossibly hard, plugged her utterly as if she were forced onto a fence post. She screamed and screamed into the gagging hand. Even to her it sounded like a hot water pipe humming in the dark, enclosed space. As she stopped, impaled on it, her humming also stopped as if turned off. She made an uncomprehending gurking noise, her golden blonde eyebrows close together, and then her face cheeks began to flutter like a thymically leaking weather balloon.

“Filled up, honey?” whispered her rapist.

“Filled up good,” grunted the other. “Go.”

_____________________

Raquel’s eyes widened once again as the man before her started to straighten. Her shoes’ toes left the floor. Spiked on his massive erection he was lifting her up by only his penis. Raquel tried to throw her head back, but found it locked to the man’s shoulder behind her. Her eyes screwed shut in agony and her fingers scratched at the wall while her feet twisted.

She cried in anguish and disbelief, the sound a tiny “mmmm, hmmmph-hmphhhh” for their ears only. She tried hurling herself up off the invasion, but all she succeeded in doing was scraping herself on them — her breasts bulging on her ravisher’s chest and her firm rear cheeks bunning her gagger’s clothes-covered erection.

“Hush now, honey,” whispered the gagger in her reddened ear. “Hush.”

Then they all heard the front door open.

“Raquel?” Theodore X. Slattery called quietly. “Raquel? I’m home….”

“Teddy!” she tried to call. “Help!” But the words were sealed inside her by the hard hands on her mouth and throat. Her eyes rolled in terror and then squeezed shut, her body trembling with the effort to escape their grip.

“Raquel?” her sugar daddy called, taking off his jacket and loosening his tie.

Her fingers clawed at the wall but made virtually no sound as the man she unwillingly embraced shifted so her fingernails couldn’t touch the plaster. Her leg muscles spasmed as she tried to kick, but the straps holding her ankles to his pant legs only rustled uselessly.

“Raquel? Honey? You here?” The voice was getting closer. Her rapist jerked up, pinning her even higher as the hand over her mouth squeezed even more.

The pain paralyzed her as Teddy passed right by the closet door, heading down the hall toward the bedroom.

“Rack-kell…!” he sang quietly. “Look what I’ve got for you…!?”

The rapist’s fingers slipped under the bodice of her tight yellow dress, cupping her left breast. With a quick, silent, motion, he scooped it from the neckline, revealing it in the darkened compartment. He filled his large hand with it … and slowly squeezed.

Raquel’s nostrils flared, her cheeks filling beneath the sunken gagging fingers. Air snorted from her — once, twice, three times. But that was all she could do. Her eyes opened, her expression pure torture as the man in front of her began to slowly lower, then raise his hips.

“Raquel?” This time her man’s voice was full of disappointment, having found the bedroom empty. “Where are you, dear?”

_____________________

Before she could even think about a reaction, the hand at her throat tightened, cutting off all sound, if not motion. The shaft plugged her again, her toes reaching achingly toward the carpet as he inexorably ground her breast in his hand.

“So smooth, so succulent,” he whispered in her ear. A moan nearly escaped her throat as her vision began to cloud.

They heard the television going on. At that moment, the men went to work in earnest, grinding her chest and practically bouncing her on his member.

Raquel made quiet, reflexive “uh-uh-uh-uh”-ing noises in response as her captors followed her bobbing body like an expert rider. Her mouth remained sealed, her neck remained clamped. And then the front door opened again.

They heard Teddy leap up and his almost disbelieving cry of “Minerva?” “Hello darling,” came the reply.

“I couldn’t believe it. I simply couldn’t believe it. I was shopping for an apartment in this very building for a friend when I see you had been renting one for months now under our business name. How terribly clever of you, to get a place so near the offices….”

“W-well. Yes!” he managed to stammer. “For business meetings and … and … research…!”

“Of course, hubby,” burbled Minerva Pierpont Slattery, his wife.

“Daddy always said that a good businessman needed someplace to decompress between the office and home. It was better for all concerned…! But why didn’t you tell me?”

The two men in the cupboard smiled leeringly at each other, then looked down to where Raquel jerked in place, her eyelids fluttering, her forehead covered in drooling sweat.

“I… I wasn’t sure I was keeping the place,” Theodore stuttered. “And … and I didn’t want to tell anyone until I was completely sure…!”

“Well, of course,” his wife chortled. “That makes perfect sense.” Her voice dropped an octave. “But now that we’re both here … you know, Elizabeth and Junior are being seen tonight by nanny ….” Even in the cupboard closet, they could practically hear the man gulp. “Yes, dear, of course,” he choked out. “Just you and me… right?”

The wife made the husband take her down to the gourmet restaurant. As soon as the door closed, the men went to work in earnest.

“You come in her?” asked the gagger as they leaned back, Raquel like a rag doll in their grip. He slowly removed his fingers from her lower face, keeping an iron grip on her neck, just in case. His digits unstuck from her face flesh like rolls of lint remover.

“I’m not that stupid,” said the one plugging her. “Not yet.”

And, with his penis still wedged inside her, he started stuffing her lax, lolling mouth with a gob of gooey plasticene.

“This stuff is incredible,” he breathed. “Oil by-product. The joys of a well-financed R&D department,” said the other, admiring the view. “Look at that mouth, would you?”

They both admired the somehow still rosy, shiny lips of their victim … and the way the stuff behind her teeth started to solidify, filling her vocal cavity like expanding taffy.

“Okay,” said the gagger, slipping out the swath of plaster tape. He pulled off the backing and quickly pressed it to Raquel’s lower face — the brick adhering to the skin between her chin and nostrils like cement. Then under her hair and around her throat the tight choker snapped directly onto her vocal box.

By the time the Slatterys got back from dinner, the apartment was silent. The husband’s eyes pinballed around the place, terrified that “someone” might have arrived while he was out with his wife, but they both made it to the bedroom without incident.

Shortly afterwards, as he lay in bed, reading the financial times, Minerva Pierpont Slattery excused herself. “I’ll be right back,” she promised.

“Where are you going?” her husband wondered, still worried.

“Just to the kitchen, just for a few minutes. I’ll be right back,” she promised. She left the bedroom, closed the door behind her, then turned, marched to the kitchen, and pulled open the cupboard door.

Raquel looked up in a panic. She was on one knee, her other leg bent with it’s high heel on the floor, as if asking Minerva to marry her. A bar was beneath her front knee, another bar behind her back knee, to keep her in that position.

Her arms were behind her, tape from her elbows to her writhing wrists. Her micromini dress barely covered her bulging chest and rethonged crotch. The men stood calmly on either side of her. Her head came up in surprise and puzzlement, staring at Minerva, her struggles stilling….

_____________________

The captive blonde made one last sound of inquiry in the back of her choking throat just before the older, uglier woman reached down into the girl’s dress, scooped out her beautiful full breasts as if removing melons from a shopping bag, then reared back and punched one as hard as she could.

The men grabbed Raquel’s silken hair, holding her tight, and shoving a pillow over her face as Minerva started swinging her fists back and forth across the girl’s chest as if training with hanging punching bags.

For her part, Raquel was so stunned, she forgot to scream in surprise and pain. Then it was too late — the pillow suffocating her. She was bent back, the padding tight on her face, her breasts getting slammed, the punches like explosions inside her head.

Then, just as quickly as they had started, they stopped, and the door closed. Minerva Slattery went back to the bedroom with a weird look on her face as the two men locking Raquel in position quickly tended to her. Off went the pillow from her stunned, groggy, pain-wracked face, off went their feet from the iron bars that were holding her legs in the kneeling position, and onto her chest went the medicating lotion.

She jerked in place, her eyes clearing and her brow furrowing in confusion as the men’s big black hands kneaded her glorious orbs. Then she felt the aching warmth of the lotion sink in and she started to mew, her eyes screwing shut.

“Ok,” the man behind her whispered. “Get her ready for the next phase.”

Raquel’s eyes snapped open and she almost grunted “next phase,” but the man before her suddenly punched her sharply in the stomach. It was an expert shot. Raquel doubled over, tears squeezed from her eyes as the man immediately wrenched her ankles wide and started wiring them to the sides of the cupboard door jam.

Then a hand was in her silky hair and wrenching her head back. Suddenly she was leaning backwards, legs wide, her thonged tuft barely covered, her breasts jiggling. And they held her that way for minutes that seemed like hours and hours that felt like years.

She tried begging, she tried pleading, she tried looking at each plaintively, but nothing worked.

Much to her shock, the cupboard door opened and there the battle-ax was, wearing a shapeless flannel nightie and holding up the biggest, knobbiest, thickest pink dildo Raquel had ever seen.

“Get her boobs out of my sight,” the woman hissed, seemingly offended by their perfection, albeit now bruised by her earlier assault.

The men immediately cupped her chest back into the tight, gripping dress neckline, then anchored themselves at the scared blonde’s shoulders, torso, and arms.

“Move it,” the wife hissed. “He thinks I’m getting a snack.” She took a moment to stare into Raquel’s imploring eyes. “And, in a way, honey, I am.” Then she switched on the battery-run vibrator. She let the girl see it twist and turn and throb and surge, then purposely lowered it….

_____________________

Raquel tried to scream but the pillow was back and a firm grip returned to her throat.

If she thought the man’s erection had been bad, this was twice as wide and much more insistent. It was as if someone had thrown her sex into a crashing plane. She thought she was going to split, burst, faint, or die.

And then, it, too, was gone, and the door closed again. Raquel nearly collapsed then. Only the men’s strong arms kept her upright. But then they carefully laid her upon the cupboard floor, her head on the pillow that had been additionally gagging her, and did something that might have driven her insane had she realized its portent. They raised her legs, spread them, and tied the ankles to the top of the door frame.

Instead, Raquel used the time to loll between wakefulness and sleep, her mind struggling to understand that she had been captured by her lover’s wife and kept just yards from him so that she couldn’t run to him for protection, or call his name. And that the witch was rubbing it in by visiting her during the night with sexual tortures.

She felt the air on her open tuft. The door had opened again. The blonde’s head rose slowly, and what she saw the woman holding made her eyes nearly rip from her head and her body convulse. Minerva Slattery stood with an ear-piercing device in one hand and a slim golden chain ending in a small ring in the other.

Another pillow was slammed on the girl’s face, sandwiching her head in softness. The men held down her shoulders and kneeled on her stomach. They admired the way her chest heaved in the dress’ bodice as the old woman kneeled and expertly started to stimulate Raquel’s clitoris into showing itself.

“He’s asleep,” she vaguely heard the wife say over the roar in her head and the fire in her loins. “Even so, this had better be quick.

“NO!!! Raquel screamed inside herself. “Oh god, no!!!”

But then she felt it — as unmistakable as a lightning strike. Raquel screamed in tortured agony and something even beyond that as the teeth of the scalpel like clip met inside her clit.

She was unconscious by the time the old woman expertly affixed the ring, handing the end of the slim gold chain to the man who had gagged the girl.

“Now she should give you no trouble and go where you lead, eh?” Minerva Slattery said quietly.

The two men glanced at each other and then the motionless blonde. Their intent was clear even in the darkness.

“Wait,” said their employer. “Wait until you get her in the car. I want no DNA evidence here….”

As Theodore Slattery showered, his mistress was led from the closet by her clitoris. Her arms were still affixed behind her from her elbows to her wrists, her mouth was still stuffed with the space age polymer he had helped develop in his wife’s company, and her lips sealed around it with tape that had been created for the exterior of the Space Shuttle.

One man pulled lightly on a silent, slim gold chain attached to the choker deep in her throat while the other tugged on a matching chain which disappeared between her legs, just under the lip of her micromini.

Tears streamed down the blonde’s face, sweat poured across her glorious form, her leg muscles spasmed, her collar bones sunk, and her chest heaved as she jerkily, chokingly, was led back the way she came — down the secret rear steps. She tried to cry out to her lover, but virtually nothing emerged from her lower face but a plaintive hum. And when she could make a sound, it shifted into a muffled squeal of pain or a gasping strangle with one slight tug of a thin gold chain.

As her lover dressed, then ate toast and sipped coffee while reading the morning paper, Raquel was hustled out into the Slattery’s private section of the garage. The security cameras saw a gorgeous, bound and gagged young blonde in a sexy yellow minidress and killer heels tap-tap-tapping on the concrete to Mrs. Slattery’s limo.

There was no reason to worry about the security guards. They were the ones chaperoning the beautiful sex bomb to the vehicle.

The door opened, one shoved the blonde’s head down and the other tossed her in by her firm, round, rump.

As the married couple made their way down the main elevator, Raquel was thrown to the limo floor — the man who had invaded her the previous night, scrambling atop her as she writhed and kicked. The other man nimbly sat on the sumptuously cushioned rear seat and looked down at her struggles with a small smile….

_____________________

She stiffened as their eyes met and then the attacker forced his muscular body between her weakened legs. She had to break the stare as he tore her thong aside. Her head scraped back, her shoes thudding into the well padded partition as he reentered her like a scimitar into a scabbard.

After all the witch had done to her, her loins were screaming for release, and the very touch of the clit ring by his massive shaft sent sparks up her cortex. But it was like a battering ram in an йclair. She felt as if he were tearing her apart.

His hands slammed down on her writhing chest and his thick, slobbering lips descended on her face and neck. She was pinned there, impaled, clamped down on the limo floor, his erection throbbing like a bunched muscle.

“Please help me,” she tried to say to their witness, but it was as if she were born without a mouth — and the man didn’t pause in his surging and clawing and licking. She shuddered in disgust and then spasmed despite herself. The man on the back seat turned away as the elevator door opened and the Slatterys stepped out.

“So,” said Theodore. “What are your plans today, dear?”

“Well,” said his wife, striding to her limo. “I need to make some plans at our estate upstate.” For a moment he was impressed with her pronunciation of “estate upstate,” but then he slowed slightly. Minerva could read his expression like a book. He was already planning how his mouse would play while the cat was away … little knowing that his kitten would be strangely unavailable….Was, in fact, unavailable not ten feet from him at that very moment….

The man atop Raquel pressed his forearm across her throat and held her head back by her silken blonde hair. The man on the rear seat quickly tossed a black velvet drape over them, and opened the door. As he stepped out, he placed his chauffeur’s cap on his head. “Ready when you are, Mrs. Slattery,” he said quietly, holding the door all but shut as Raquel writhed just within, trying to alert her lover with any sight or sound.

But the gag was too severe, her air too cut off, the luxurious car swallowing up her weakening kicks to the rear seat and partition.

Minerva stopped her husband still a few feet away. “Will I see you upstate?” she asked, one hand on his chest.

“Gee…,” he considered, visions of a smiling, naked, unbound, ungagged Raquel dancing in his head. “I don’t know….”

“Very well, my dear,” said his wife, swiftly getting into the car, then lowering the tinted, one-way glassed window as her driver closed the door and hastened behind the steering wheel. “You won’t know what you’re missing….”

“We’ll see,” Teddy replied, already turning away. He stopped for a second, trying to figure out what was bothering him. Yes, his wife’s car was richly appointed in the best black leather and velvet accouterments, but did he see something shift on the floor beyond his wife’s legs just then? Something creamy and even golden?

He turned back, but she was already closing the automatic window. “Have fun,’ she called just before it closed.

“Don’t worry,” he replied quietly. “I will….” Had she bought another yap dog? He shrugged and started back toward the elevator as his wife yanked the velvet cover from the figures on the floor. Raquel’s hair flew up like a cloud, falling to rest on the floor and her rapist. She groaned in anguish as his forearm left her throat and her nostrils flared. Then he did a push-up off her and started ramming her in earnest.

“Why, my dear,” Minerva Slattery said with pleasure. “How nice to see you again. Allow me to assist you.” And she pressed the stiletto heel of her expensive shoe directly into the center of Raquel’s right breast.

She pressed down as the girl moaned in terror and pain and the car quietly turned toward the street. “You’ll like the mansion upstate,” said the woman ominously, grinding down with her toe. “There’s lots for you to do there….”

The man erupted inside the screaming girl not three blocks away.

She had hired the man specially. He had secured the job because of his strength, sadism, and one last, important, thing. He had filled up a jelly jar with cum from one climax alone.

The old, bitter, vengeful woman smiled with satisfaction down at her “rival,” watching the girl’s expression change from anguish (as she was ejaculated into) to brow-furrowing confusion (as the semen didn’t stop) to wide-eyed surprise (the semen still didn’t stop) to body-spasming panic as the semen … just … kept … coming!

He wrapped her hands under her shoulders, his long fingers clamping her onto him as he kept ramming himself all the way in her, and letting fly with another creamy stream. Soon Raquel was shuddering on the automobile floor as if being electroshocked every few seconds…

_____________________

Finally she lay there, semen staining the inside of her thighs and streaking her silken tuft as if a whip cream canister had gone off inside her. Her eyelids were fluttering and her muscles lax, but her smooth skin shone inside the sumptuous vehicle.

Minerva nodded. “Good work,” she murmured. “Now let’s prepare her for arrival, yes?”

The man didn’t need to be told twice. Slipping off the groggy, despoiled girl, he quickly reached into the side pocket of the limo’s door and removed two jars. Slipping on a rubber glove from his pocket, he dipped two fingers into the first jar’s thick liquid, and started rubbing Raquel’s lower face with it.

As Minerva watched, the space-age tape loosened, then flopped off. Quickly removing that glove and putting on a clean one, the rapist dipped his forefinger into the second jar’s gritty ointment and shoved it between Raquel’s weak, working lips. At the very touch of the mixture, the polymer filling her mouth congealed into a mucous-like ball, which the man easily removed.

Still, the poor girl had virtually no time to react. Within nanoseconds he was behind her, one arm dragging her onto his lap, and the other clamping her lips shut again. All she could do was stare helplessly at her lover’s vindictive wife as the woman calmly removed three items from a holder beside the back seat. One gleamed, one glistened, and the other shone. The gleaming item were two of the daintiest, loveliest ankle bracelets she had ever seen — attached to one another by a shirt length of golden chain. The glistening item was a seemingly diamond-studded two inch belt that had rings attached along its length. The third item was a rubberized leather half-hood with a tube instead of a prod. Raquel started in the man’s grip, then started to beg — piteously and unintelligibly behind his clamping hand.

“Oh yes, my dear, you must,” said the old woman, holding the gleaming and shining items up for her inspection. “You want to be ready for the party, don’t you?”

Raquel tried to echo the word “party,” but it just came out like two muffled grunts.

“Oh yes,” said the woman, handing the items over to the man behind the blonde. “You’ve had your fun.”

She ignored Raquel’s look of apprehension and reached back into the door pocket. Raquel’s look of concern turned to terror as the old woman pulled out a beautiful, wicked, sharp hunting knife. “Now it’s our turn,” Minerva Slattery said.

Then the girl’s head was yanked back and the tube was pushed brutally deep into her mouth….

The car finally turned into the gated driveway of the mansion — set on eighteen acres amid a pine and spruce forest.

Clicking the wrought iron gate open from his seat, the chauffeur hazarded a glance in the rearview mirror, appreciating the look of satisfaction on his boss’ face. He couldn’t see the source of satisfaction, but he could hear it.

It was the sound of someone trying desperately not to choke. It was the sound of someone slobbering and suckling and slurping with all their might. And it seemed to echo down a short, tight, firm tunnel. And every few seconds he would hear something else. A gasp. A squeal. A moan. His smile widened as he paid particular attention to his driving.

Behind him, in the back of the limousine, Raquel Brookfield sat naked. Well, not exactly naked and not exactly sitting. She still wore the killer high heels, but her dress and thong was gone (stuffed in a side door pocket). Instead the ankle bracelet hobbles were affixed and the diamond-studded belt was loose around her wonderful waist.

Her hands were crossed behind her and cuffed with stainless steel, whose links were through a belt ring, affixing her hands to the small of her back. And over her head were straps, buckled around her throat, behind her neck, at the base of her skull, and at the crown of her cranium — holding the tube-gag harness in place under her nose.

She didn’t so much sit as bend backwards, arching, her firm round rear on the floor, her knees wide, and the tips of her platinum hair dusting the carpet.

The woman and her rapist were at either end: the man with his erection deep in her mouth through the tube, and the woman with her stiletto heel deep in the girl’s vagina — moving it in and out as if pressing on an accelerator.

The man kept one hand tight on the girl’s throat. The woman held the girl’s left breast in her bony fingers — the knife blade touching the breast’s base.

“Keep those glorious gams of yours spread,” Minerva warned. It’s a short trip from here to your throat….” The scorned wife then locked eyes with her servant. “If the harness can handle you, it can handle anyone.”

The man just smiled in appreciation as his member appeared and disappeared into the squat black tube that wrenched the blonde’s mouth to its widest, jaw-throbbing aperture. For her part, Raquel just tried to keep her legs open and herself from suffocating on the shaft that kept sliding deep into her aching mouth.

The old woman looked up as the car started to pull into the attached garage at the side of the house. “All right,” she announced. “We’re here. Finish up.”

Raquel’s eyes flew open and she stared up at her rapist pleadingly. She shook her head as much as she could, her gaze nearly hysterical. “No,” she tried to gasp. “No. If you come again, I’ll drown!”

But he just laughed. “Don’t worry, baby, you can handle it.”

He looked up to lock gazes with his employer, who nodded slightly. “You took at least this much from my husband, bitch,” she said flatly. “Of course that was over a year, but…!” Then she laughed stridently and fell back, taking the knife with her but jamming her heel as far into the girl as it could go.

That agony was almost immediately forgotten as the man’s erection jammed into her throat and exploded with foam. The old woman watched smugly as the girl’s body writhed, her fingers clawed, and drowning sounds sloshed out of her cream-streaked harness.

Finally he let her wrench herself off him, falling to the side, her head down, a coughing spasm splattering semen onto the limo floor.

Minerva looked on in mock disgust. “Prepare her,” she instructed as the chauffeur opened the limo door. She put her vagina-slick heel on the garage floor before looking back. Her lip curling she concluded. “And clean up that mess….”

_____________________

“Hello everybody!” Minerva Slattery cried as she swept in from the cloak room.

“Minerva!” they all cried in return, one way or other, some applauding and others raising a champagne glass. There were five men, all well-dressed in tailored suits of gray or black or dark blue. It was a beautiful, semi-circular room, filled with light from the large, sparkling, practically crystal-paned French doors looking out onto the patio and yard. There, too, the party was in full swing, although, somehow, the dozen or so guests outside looked somewhat less severe and more casual.

A large, mirrored, semi-circular bar was along the wall, and the center of the room was taken up with a marble fountain that was as least as large as a child’s swimming pool. Around it were deep red-upholstered lounge chairs. Here and there were heavy, opulent tables.

“Look what I brought you!” Minerva announced and showcased the cloak room door with a flourish worthy of a game show hostess. The door opened and some of the guests actually gasped.

There Raquel Brookfield stood, teetering on six-inch high heels, her bright blue eyes huge in fear.

Her glorious legs were encased in incredibly expensive black lace thigh highs. Her magnificent chest was barely enclosed in a black lace, abbreviated Venice embroidered bustier with demi cups that made her chest bulge and hardly covered her aureoles.

The ankle bracelet hobble remained, as did the belt. But in her mouth was a gleaming gold ring gag, affixed to her head by diamond-studded straps. Her clitoris ring glinted in the midday sun.

“Oh my lord…” breathed a man at the bar.

“He had nothing to do with it,” sneered the man next to her. But mostly they just stared at the trembling girl like wolves looking at a lamb.

“Oh, how rude of me,” Minerva chirped, putting down a champagne glass she had raised to her lips. “Allow me to introduce you.” She strode up to Raquel, putting an arm around her shivering shoulder. “Cunt,” the woman said brightly to the shocked girl as if saying her name, “this is Ray.” She motioned toward the brittle, leering man in a gray suit at the bar. “Ray doesn’t like my husband being distracted from his work.”

Ray looked hungrily at Raquel. “We got important deals at the company,” he informed her. “I need his full attention.”

Before Raquel could go insane, Minerva chirped happily on. “Next to her is Braden. Braden is a date rapist.”

“four so far,” he said, raising a glass of scotch. “Haven’t been caught yet.”

“Bitch,” Minerva said to get the horrified girl’s attention. “Sitting at the bar is Mike. Mike’s a home invasion man.”

“Gas ’em, tie ’em, blindfold ’em, gag ‘em, rape ’em,” Mike said.

“And over there….”

“Oh, forget this,” interrupted a voice, and a man in a blue pin-striped suit came over from a lounge chair, already unzipping his pants. “It’s a party, isn’t it? Who wants her first?”

The spurned wife opened her mouth to complain, but then just smiled and leaned on the bar to watch. Ray was already hopping over to the lounge chair to sit down on the side of it.

The man who had interrupted, Murray, faced Raquel, backing her toward the seated Ray, who was removing his erection from his pants.

They made the blonde sit on it, then Ray dragged her back as he lay across the lounge chair. Before she could screech in terror, a pulpy hand was in her hair, pulling back. It was Mike, who was hissing in her face, “Better take it, honey.”

Then Mike’s penis was slipping into her mouth and Murray was lying atop her, grabbing her right breast and jamming his shaft into her vagina.

Raquel tried to scream, tried to struggle, tried to faint, but it was too late for all of it. Her hands spasmed, jerking out from between Ray and Murray, but then another hard-on was there, plopping into her fingers.

Minerva was kneeling at her other ear, seething “Get him off if you know what’s good for you.”

_____________________

“Raquel had thought the closet was the worst it could be. Then she thought the limo was as bad as it could get. But now she was being invaded in every sexual orifice at the same time. There was nothing left … until the fifth man swung his leg over and sat on her stomach, his erection between her breasts.

They went at her five at a time: one in her sphincter, one in her vagina, one in her mouth, one in her hands, and one between her mounds — all locking her to the lounge chair, sandwiched amidst their bodies, as the women hissed threats and demands into her ears while assaulting her nipples and clitoris.

She shuddered, she sobbed, she writhed, and she choked, but it made no difference. The bustier’s cups were bunched beneath her orbs and her heels scrapped the carpeted floor as they surged and thrust.

Minerva and her employees watched from the bar, marveling how amazing the little blonde looked amid all the suits. It was macabre to watch the onslaught in the bright light of day with the other guests just outside — seemingly avoiding attention out of civility. But the old woman knew that the glass was one-way. She also knew that the ones outside were old friends of her husband’s, who had no idea who she had invited and what was going on in here.

“The black lace really sets off her hair and flesh,” the woman’s bodyguard said.

“Eyes too,” added the chauffeur. “Think she’ll survive?”
Minerva scoffed, dabbing some caviar on a cracker. “Of course she will.” She wolfed the snack down and returned her full attention to the assault.

The man on her torso came on her throat, cheeks, and hair. Then the man on the other side of the chaise came in her mouth. Then the other two inside her came. She still hadn’t gotten the man in her hands off, however.

“Then it’s your choice,” chirped Minerva.

He chose her mouth, and they all switched places — Murray with his fluid-moistened shaft in her twitching fingers.

“You better get him off,” Minerva hissed, “or you’ll think this was just a picnic.” She pinched Raquel’s nipple between her forefinger and thumbnails for emphasis. They started like animals. The second time it was like returning beasts. The third time encompassed a wail of despair. The fourth time it was as if she were drowning. The fifth time she was a barely grunting, distantly moaning sack of sex meat, her hair wet with sweat and semen, her face a mask of cream, her hands gloved in milk.

Finally, she fell to the floor with a groan, her eyelids fluttering, her bright blue eyes rolling back into her head. Her luscious body hardly had time to rest when the woman fell upon her.

Finally, the entire group stood at the bar or sat around the room, watching their special guest. She lay on the floor, her head turned toward the French doors. They had removed her thigh highs, put her shoes back on, and smeared the ejaculations from her hands, torso, and face with the black lace. Then they had stuffed one in her mouth and tied it there with the other.

Following this came swath after swath of black tape, anchored over the bridge of her nose as well as under her chin until her lower face was completely sealed and obscured. They had removed the belt and viciously tied her wrists as high up her back as they would go, and then noosed them to her throat — all with thin gray rope.

Her ankles and knees were crossed and tied, but not before a nine inch studded, battery-run dildo was forced into her crotch. Then Minerva broke a champagne glass, ground it to a powder with her shoe, pressed a square of tape over the grinds, and then pressed them over Raquel’s nipples. The bustier was ripped off and lay beside her glorious, glistening body.

42/ She was a pure blonde beauty, brutally despoiled, exhausted, but with dark patches wherever her sexual source lay … at her feet, her vagina, her breasts, and her mouth.

They would watch her moan, quiver, and roll as the vibrator did it’s work — sweat appearing at every pore.

Then they all heard it. “Teddy!” It had come from outside. Even Raquel had heard it in her sensual, violated stupor….

_____________________

Her head raised dazedly, seeing her lover, Theodore Slattery, appear on the patio, waving and shaking hands as his friends gathered around and slapped him on the back.

“Uh-oh,” Mike drawled sarcastically. “Daddy’s home.”

Minerva smirked, then they all looked expectantly at their victim.

Raquel stiffened. She made a sound that was probably her trying to say his name. Then her legs bent and she tried to crawl toward the door.

Minerva found herself holding her breath. The girl would choke from the cords going from her neck to her wrists. She’d gasp and recoil each time the tape squares over her nipples touched the floor. But her legs would keep bending and straightening, bending and straightening … moving her inch by agonizing inch toward the doors.

And she’d keep trying to cry out “Teddy?” Louder and louder each time, confused as to why he couldn’t hear her and wouldn’t even look at her.

Ray began to look at Minerva for a signal, but the old woman wouldn’t look away from the crawl. Not even when Raquel was not an inch from the doors, her body a taunt arrow, only her stomach and toes on the floor.

She made a sound that may have been, “Teddy … please … help,” then her face rested on the door bottom in exhaustion. It was that moment when Teddy said his last hello, turned toward the French doors and gripped the handle.

Several of them looked toward Minerva, but she just took an extremely conscious sip of champagne. The doors were locked, of course. The only thing Teddy accomplished was to batter Raquel’s face a bit with the wooden frame.

The woman waited until her husband looked at the obstruction with annoyance, then walked toward the side door before speaking. “All right,” she said. “Hide her.”

_______________________________

Raquel’s eyes fluttered open. They slowly turned from a cloudy darkness to their customary bright blue, then focused. She blinked several times, trying to see and think clearly.

She realized she way laying down on something soft and smooth. She looked through what seemed to be a field of grass, only it was white, thick, and felt like fur. She groaned and started to roll — stopping, stiffening, as she realized she could hear herself clearly.

Instantly she became aware of a warmth across her torso, as if she were being encased, her breasts bulging. Her eyes shot down to see her cleavage looking glorious amidst black leather-lycra.

Raquel gasped and quickly sat up. She stared down at herself. She was wearing a beautiful, expensive, backless, black, deep-v-necked gown that adhered to her like paint, only it had a zipper that went from just below her breasts down to the hem at her upper thighs. Her extraordinary legs were bare, but on her feet were black, double-ankle-strapped four-and-a-half inch high heels.

Suddenly she noticed that her lovely, elegant hands — the red-painted medium-length nails still intact — were cupping the sides of her breasts. They were not tied. Her ankles and knees were not tied. Her cold hands touched her face. She felt make-up, but nothing on her mouth. She was not gagged.

Had it all been some sort of astonishing dream? Was it a drugged-induced hallucination? She looked up and would have thought she had fallen down the Wonderland rabbit hole had she ever read Lewis Carroll.

But she hadn’t, so she could only stare, wide-eyed, at the huge, semi-circular room, with its domed ceiling decorated with paintings of fluffy white clouds on a field of sky blue.

She looked down. She sat on a thick carpet … perhaps the thickest carpet she had ever seen or felt. Her back was against a canopied bed. And all around her were stunningly expensive toys — as if she had woken up in a F.A.O. Schwarz catalog.

Her face began to crumble, and she felt herself start to cry, but then she fought it. The tears immediately dried up, replaced with confusion.

“Teddy?” she half squeaked, half-croaked — her violated mouth barely able to work. “Teddy?”…

_____________________

“Shush.” It was a small word, said quietly, from just behind her. She turned her head and stared up at a sullen young man and woman — both seated on the bed. The post-teen girl was dark haired and serious. The young man was light-haired and narrow-eyed. They were both a little chunky and looked to be in their late teens or early twenties. Both wore high-end athletic suits.

“W-what?” Raquel stammered in wonder.

“Hush,” said the girl.

“You were calling father, weren’t you?” the man giggled.

“Father?” Raquel echoed.

“Yeah, daddy,” he replied. “Ted. Teddy. Theodore. Right?”
Raquel blinked again. “You … you’re Teddy’s son and daughter?”

The dark-haired girl rolled her eyes. “Sure. You are stupid, aren’t you?”

“W-what?” Raquel repeated in surprise.

“Mother told us that you shouldn’t bother father,” The boy said.

“Now, wait a minute…!” Raquel began turning to sit on her knees.

“She said we should tell you not to call him,” said the girl. “He’s busy.”

“Please,” Raquel interjected, her little voice getting stronger with each word. “Please. Your mother attacked me … had me attacked … I-I just want to go. Please, just let me leave…! ”

She started to stand, having trouble getting the high heels under her in the thick carpet. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of the young man staring down her front, but also vaguely heard the young lady speak.

“Mother told us you shouldn’t do that, either….”

Raquel was light-headed from the sudden movement. She wavered on her weak legs, then tried to turn toward the door some ten yards away to the left.

“Please,” she begged, teary-eyed. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise. I’ll just go. Don’t … don’t tell anyone, all right?”

“Don’t you want us to tell father?” the young woman asked.

Raquel noticed that the two young people were getting to their knees on the thickly padded mattress. “No… yes…,” Raquel babbled, confused. “Okay. But no one else….”

She looked at the dark-haired girl as she sucked in a big breath, as if to shout, but then just whispered “Daddy?”

The young man did it, too. He looked like he was about to positively bellow, but all that came out of his mouth was a tiny sound barely loud enough to Raquel to hear. “Daddy…!”
They both looked at the blonde. Their expressions galvanized Raquel. They weren’t apologetic, they weren’t innocent, and they weren’t respectful. They were looking at her as if she were a very special gift … one they were already planning to play with so hard that it would break.

Raquel turned away and started to run as fast as she could for the door, her mouth opening to scream.

She didn’t get two steps, and she needed to inhale to get the breath to run before she could use it to scream.

She felt her legs constrict. She was tackled. She fell heavily, squealing, and then hands were all over her — slapping her face, pressing her lips, squeezing her throat.

Raquel was on her back, trying to flail back, but her hands were seemingly locked to the floor. She looked up and saw the young man leering down at her. She stiffened for just a second, realizing it had been the girl who had expertly brought her down. Then it was all a jumble of shock and fear.

Teddy Jr. was sitting on her chest, laughing and playing with her face. He had to be at least 200 pounds, and his knees were on her arms. Every time she tried to screech, he’d hop on her, knocking out her air, or slap her, or choke her, or mash her lips with his palms — all while laughing as if playing with a puppy.

And then behind him, the dark-haired girl was doing even worse things.

Raquel never saw the butt plug … but she felt it. She surged up beneath Junior, but he just laughed even more — grabbing her face in his hand, his fingers inside her mouth, wedging open her jaw, his thumb deep in her cheek flesh.

He reached back, his sister slapped something into his hand, and then Raquel felt her ankles being wrapped. She looked up to see a big black rubber dildo in the young man’s hands.

She yanked open her mouth to scream again and he plunged it in. Suddenly she was choking on rubber that jerked around her mouth as if he were trying to shift gears with the thing. It plugged her throat, jammed into her cheeks, and pressed down her tongue as she felt her left leg bend.

Raquel totally panicked, trying to surge up. It was too late. The boy hopped on her stomach again, making her gasp in agony, as his sister affixed her left ankle to her left thigh with thin dark rope. To Raquel’s increasing horror, the girl was an expert, and the blonde squealed in terror.

“Shut … her … up!” the sister snapped, and Junior immediately responded. Hopping off Raquel’s stomach, he grabbed her hair, yanked her over, and started stuffing the dildo deep into her agonized mouth as if she were a turkey. Raquel tried fighting him off, but suddenly she felt the bite of rope on her wrists and her arms were straight behind her….

_____________________

“Come on, come on,” the dark-haired girl complained, slapping another item into her brother’s out-stretched hand as the blonde choked on the black dildo shoved deep in her mouth. It was a thick, shorter, curved, knobby pink dildo — only with a buckled strap through its base.

As Raquel’s chest thrust painfully out from the way her elbows were being cinched, Junior yanked the black dildo out and instantly started forcing the pink one in — holding Raquel’s jaw in his meaty fingers.

She gasped and gagged and moaned piteously, but the thing jammed in until its tip just touched the front of her throat. Then he slipped the straps under her hair and buckled it so tight at the back of her neck she thought her jaw would crack.

The two stepped back. Raquel Brookfield wriggled at their feet on her side, staring up at them in amazement. Her left leg was bent double, her ankle affixed to her upper thigh. Her right leg was free. Her arms were behind her as one, tied at the wrists and elbows. Her dress hem was up to her succulent mid-rear — her clitoris-ringed vagina and butt-plug visible. Her teeth sunk onto the round pink base of the thing in her mouth as tears started streaming out of her eyes.

“I’m Theodore Jr.,” said the young man.

“My name’s Elizabeth,” the the young woman told her. “And mother said we could fuck with you for awhile….”

Raquel could only get off one choked, muffled scream before they fell on her again. ..

_______________________________

Theodore X. Slattery met all his wife’s new friends. He wondered at their knowing, even smug, smiles, but otherwise they seemed all right. The buffet dinner was served and he kind of lost track of them in all the rooms. He also lost track of his own friends, too. Truth be told he was still disappointed that his “friend” Raquel hadn’t answered his calls or cell messages. Had she found another lover?

Finally the party wound down, the rich married couple made their goodnights, and each, as they had for years now, retired to their own rooms. The estate was quiet at 3am. The half moon in the star-sparkled sky shone down on the perfectly manicured, deep green grass of the lawn. The woodland encircled it, blocking most of the mansion from view of its wealthy neighbors.

Theodore X. Slattery lay in his bedroom, unable to sleep — going over and over in his mind what could have happened to his darling sex toy. Even now, he could practically feel her silken hair, creamy smooth skin, incredible shape, and bulbous, firm breasts. He could practically look into her light, bright, blue eyes.

If only he knew what had happened. If only…. He turned over, just as, out in the yard behind him, figures were moving silently across the lawn. If he had looked, he would have seen his wife, her bodyguard and her driver shepherding one recalcitrant figure across the grass.

And what a figure!

Even in virtual silhouette, there was no missing the glorious blonde hair, the spectacular measurements, and the bobbing of her magnificent chest.

Down on the lawn, Raquel Brookfield tried to scream with all her might, but the black, scuba-prod leather gag stopped her. It was more than just a prod to suck on, wedge open her mouth, and push down her tongue. The scuba prongs came off the central prod and pressed deep into the inside of her cheeks, while the cushioned, insulated panel over her mouth squeezed onto the outside of her cheeks — sealing her mouth as if clamped in a workshop.

She tried with all her might to run, but she would have to tear her clitoris off to do it, as Minerva Slattery held the chain to her clit ring tightly. The six-inch stilettos of the black ankle-strap heels also prevented rapid movement, as did the strap around her knees, and the thick black collar that held her head up like an African tribeswoman’s neck rings. Clipped to a ring at the back were black Smith & Wesson handcuffs — designed to entrap the most dangerous felons.

The moonshine reflected off the leather and steel dully, and, to the employees’ eyes, the glorious blonde’s body seemed to shift in and out of sight. It was because the black lace hose, garter belt, and severe black satin corset blended with the night as much as outlined her.

Raquel gasped as the whale boning, clips and laces thrust her chest out and crushed her waist to a murderous 20 and a half inches. But whenever she slowed, bent, slipped, tripped, stumbled, or dug in, Minerva or her helpers would be there to move her along. She practically whinnied, her eyes huge in dread.

“My, my,” Minerva murmured appreciatively, tugging lightly on the vaginal leash. “Why, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a frisky pony, my dear.” She looked knowingly ahead at the dark, looming stable. “How fitting….”

_____________________

Raquel stiffened. The others stopped to watch her reaction carefully. From TeddyТs room window it looked as if the party had stopped, and then a shapely, struggling girl had tried to literally leap away from them. But they all just grabbed her — half carrying, half dragging her muffled, bleating form into the stable.

In his bedroom, Theodore Slattery started to glance over his shoulder. What was that noise? It sounded as if a kitten inside a sack had been thrown into a lake. He shifted and then finally turned over to look out the window. A glint of something at the stable door caught his attention. Was that something white, as if one of the palominos had gotten loose from its stall?

The man turned over in bed and reached for the button to summon his aide. His hand stilled when he noticed the glowing digital clock on the bed table. He glanced at his cellphone, then thought better of bothering the horse trainer at this time too. Instead, he turned back to the window and peered intently at the stable.

Moonlight danced across the slats, and there it was again: something gleaming white flickered inside, as if trotting in place. Ted slowly lowered himself back to the pillow, thinking heТd deal with it in the sunlight Е but he already knew he wouldnТt be able to sleep until he checked it out.

So, within three minutes he was standing in the stable doorway, staring at Raquel Brookfield in a pool of moonlight. She stood in an empty stall, although УstandФ may have been the wrong word. She was held up by leather straps under her arms which attached to chains which hung from the ceiling. She teetered on staggeringly severe seven-and-a-half-inch-heeled ballet ankleboots, which put her on the very front of her toes, forcing her to totter like a new-born pony.

Her beautiful body was still encased in the wicked corset, but added to the ensemble was a ponytail butt plug and a single glove that wrenched her arms behind her and thrust her nipple-clamped tits proudly forward. Naturally, across her head was a trainer bridle gag which strapped around and over head while giving her a bit to chew on and drool over. Her extraordinary flesh gleamed in the moonlight.

Her pain-wracked eyes lit up when she saw him. Her expression was crowded with emotion: shame, desperation, relief, and, finally hope. She twisted piteously toward him, making herself understood despite the bit between her teeth.

УHed-dy!Ф she pleaded, her shoulders hunching, her breasts wobbling. УPluhs Е pluhs Е huhp me Е huhp me Е!Ф

Almost against his will, Teddy stumbled forward and instinctively started to unstrap the thing around his young mistressТ head. RaquelТs pressed her face into his chest, sobbing into his robe with exhausted release.

УOh, Teddy, thank god,Ф she babbled once the leather and steel abomination fell onto the straw. УYour wife Е your wife kidnapped me. She did this to meЕ!Ф

УWhat?Ф Teddy interjected, his fingers finding the single glove strangely difficult to undo. His hands went from the glove to the straps under her arms and back again as he felt the nipple clips on the girlТs breasts press against his stomach.

УOh, get me out of here, Teddy,Ф the little blonde pleaded. УWeТll go to the cops. TheyТll fix her. Then you can be freeЕ!Ф

His hands slowed even more. УFreeЕ?Ф he echoed hollowly. УЕof Minerva?Ф

УTeddy, quick!Ф Raquel begged him. УShe could be back any secondЕ!Ф

But instead Theodore Slattery took Raquel Brookfield by her still-encased arms, and stepped back. УWhat else did she do? Did she rape you?Ф

The blonde blinked in confusion, replying quickly. УYes, yes. Not her, Teddy, but her assistant, and her chauffer. But thatТs not important now. Hurry!Ф

But the man seemed mesmerized, staring down at the pinioned girl before him, her chest heaving, her shapely legs shaking. УTheyЕfucked you?Ф

УYes, it was horrible!Ф Raquel bleated. УGet me away from them! Please hurry!Ф
But his words cut in, even before she had finished. УYou let them screw you?Ф

Raquel Brookfield froze, her eyes huge and beseeching. Suddenly she became aware of something touching her girlhood. It was his erection, prodding insistently through his pajamas. УNo,Ф she insisted. УThey forced me. I tried to get away, I tried to cry out, butЕ!Ф
He still didnТt let her finish. УAfter all the times you put me off,Ф he seethed. УAfter all the СI want the first time to be specialЕ!Ф

Raquel became aware of his fingers digging into her arms. УTeddy, Teddy,Ф she implored, Уwhat are you doing? ItТs not my fault, you know that! Teddy, listen to me!Ф

But he was muttering fervently, his hands suddenly expert at the shoulder straps. УParading in front of me in those teddies and babydolls Е that I bought! Always just a hug and a kiss on the cheek and a lousy Сthank you daddyЕ!ТФ

УGod, Teddy, no!Ф she began to wail, her voice raising in volume with despair and horror. УNoЕ!!!Ф

But then his left hand was tight on the back of her neck and his right hand was stuffing his handkerchief deep into her bawling mouth.

_____________________

Her ballet-booted feet were no match for his weight as he bore her body backwards, the straps that had been holding her up popping free. She slammed down to the straw-strewn floor of the stall on her single-gloved arms, Teddy on top of her.

She screamed in agony but one hand was now tight on her cloth-stuffed mouth while the other found her left tit – the nipple clip snapping painfully off.

“Waiting, waiting all that time!” Teddy hissed, sneering down into Raquel’s sobbing face. “Nobody gets to fuck you first, you hear me? Nobody!”

The girl writhed, kicked and tried to screech but his cock was coursing into her cunt like a hydraulic piston — one palm still clamped onto her lower face, the other mauling her chest.

“You’re mine, you hear me?” he fumed. “Not hers, not theirs, mine!”

Her bright wet blue eyes rolled over to stare into his face, so she saw it. She saw the second he dropped the artifice and took on the reality of what was happening and what he was doing. She saw the nano-second when his expression changed from mock outrage to total, satisfied lust.

Raquel Brookfield keened in utter anguish, her eyes rolling up, her head going back, as Theodore Slattery consummated the relationship with his bound, gagged, and ravaged mistress in the corner of a dark, dirty stable stall on his estate.

Arthur Brookfield sat in the sun-filled parlor of the Slattery estate, sipping his coffee. “Well, I have to admit I’m impressed,” he sighed. “You know, to be honest, a lot of us at the club thought your marriage was pretty much on the rocks. But look at you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two happier.”

Theodore and Minerva Slattery sat on the other side of the circular table, smiling. “I don’t think we’ve ever been happier,” the wife stated as the couple smiled at each other.

“Well, it certainly makes for good business,” Teddy revealed. “The company has never been stronger, either.”

“Certainly the military’s order for your new polymer and sealant couldn’t have hurt,” Brookfield interjected.

“They all laughed. “And you know,” Teddy added, “when you combine them, they make a hell of a fabric!”

“Absolutely skin-tight, second skin,” Minerva added. “It’s what everyone’ll be wearing at the clubs this year!”

The trio laughed more until the Slatterys noticed the shadow that seemed to cross Brookfield’s face.

“I’m sorry,” Minerva said quietly. “I didn’t mean to remind you….”

“No, no,” Arthur waved the consideration away. “It’s all right.”

“Now, Art,” Teddy soothed. “You know it was only a matter of time….”

“Of course, of course,” Brookfield assured them.

“All the chicks leave the nest eventually,” Minerva reminded him.

“But without a word?” Brookfield said somberly. “Not a call, not even a text message?”
The Slatterys glanced at each other before Minerva went to freshen his coffee cup and Teddy leaned in consolatory.

“Well, you know old man, speaking of talk at the club,” he said, “how your daughter behaved.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Brookfield admitted with a wan smile. “I must confess we spoiled her.” The man’s eyes became wistful as he looked off to the garden … and the stables beyond.

“Hmph. Don’t think I don’t know how they talked about her. Sure, everyone thinks she was easy, but really, she wasn’t. She was just … a little flirty. A sweet girl, really. It’s only that she thought she could get anything with just a bat of her eyes and a smile….”

“Well, we know that isn’t true!” Teddy interrupted with a knowing laugh, which Arthur gratefully joined in with. “And speaking of that, old man, you don’t think I was unfair in our recent … merger … do you? Even more talk of the club says I only took advantage of you in a moment of familial weakness….”

“Nonsense,” Arthur chided. “We were worried, certainly, but it’s not like the authorities suspect any foul play. She just decided to go off on her own, that’s all. You know what they say. Give her time….”

“Leave them alone and they’ll come home,” Minerva chimed in with that old Bo Peep nursery rhyme, “wagging their tails behind them!”

The three laughed again, and settled back in their chairs … each, in their own way, picturing a pretty blonde wagging her tail.

“We’ve got to stop going to that club,” Arthur Brookfield muttered.

“You can say that again,” Teddy seconded, beginning to get up. “That reminds me. Would you excuse me a second, old boy, I want to take care of something.”

“Certainly, certainly,” Brookfield replied, lost in his own thoughts.

Teddy avoided his wife’s meaningful gaze, and walked back to the parlor door. Slipping inside the den, he sucked in his breath despite himself.

Raquel Brookfield stood in five-inch black patent leather pumps, gorgeous legs wide, flanked on either side by the Slattery bodyguard and chauffeur, who each held her by an upper arm.

Her blue eyes were wide as she tried to deal with the huge hunk of polymer stuffing her mouth and the sealant cementing her red, wet lips. Her face, body, and hair were absolutely glowing, despite the shiny black poly-seal tape clinching her lower arms behind her, horizontally, in the small of her beautiful back. More poly-seal fabric painted her lower tits and thighs – just enough to cover her dampened vagina and the crushed nipples on her bulging breasts – exposing her chest, midriff, arms, and legs.

The only other thing covering her body was cum: on her face, in her hair, under her chin, in her cleavage, and drooling down between her thighs….

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Theodore Slattery glanced at the television, set within the den’s bookshelves — where she had been able to see and hear the entire tea with Arthur Brookfield – before taking her succulent hips in his hands.

“You know,” he chided just before entering her moaning, writhing body again, “we’re going to have to send that man an e-mail.” He coursed in and out of her pre-lubricated cunt, squeezing her ample chest as she snorted in revulsion. “Untraceable, of course. Maybe even a video message … you crying a little about wanting your freedom and trying to gain your independence….”

Raquel threw her head back and screamed. The polymer swallowed it up and the men holding her – and the man screwing her – hardly seemed to notice.

Teddy sunk his hands into her firm, tight ass, and kept rutting. “Or maybe a tear-stained letter in your own handwriting?” He looked down at her beautiful, agonized, sealed face. “Do you bitches even use stationery anymore?”

“No, of course they don’t,” said Minerva, who walked briskly over from the door. Teddy glanced at the closed circuit TV to see Arthur remaining in his parlor chair, totally oblivious.

“Oh, don’t worry darling. He’s still in his own world.” She leaned against her chauffeur and began to brush Raquel’s cum-moistened hair from her gleaming face. “Dreaming about his sweet, little, misunderstood pookums here.”

The lovely blonde looked up at her abductor with as much hatred as she could muster through her agony and defilement as her abductor’s husband continued to brutally despoil her.

“Better wrap it up, dear,” the Slattery woman advised. “Wouldn’t want him to snap out of it and come looking for us.”

“And speaking of ‘come,’ the Slattery man grunted, jerking his head at the men on either side of the girl. “Let her go, boys, she won’t get far.”

Sure enough, as soon as the men let go of Raquel’s arms, Teddy bore the struggling, squealing girl down to the floor, where he nailed her to the rug between the sofa and the entertainment center.

“Join in, gentlemen,” Minerva suggested, tapping them both on the shoulders. “Let’s give the little lady inspiration for her up-coming ‘au revoir’ message.”

Raquel wailed in anguish as the help exposed their raging erections and took their places on either side of her head. The blonde screamed and heaved and kicked, for all the good it did her. Teddy just kept reaming her as the men jacked themselves off.

Minerva leaned on the men’s shoulders as she looked down at Raquel’s incredulous, frantic face. “Don’t worry, dear, they’ll tend to you properly once your sugar daddy is finished.

Wouldn’t want those wonderful titties and amazing ass to feel left out.” She let that promise sink in as Raquel kept shaking her head and trying to say “no.” But even then the girl had to stop since she couldn’t ignore the way she was being repeatedly invaded on the floor.

The old woman’s eyes sparkled with anticipation as the shapely girl danced. “And then when your daddy goes home, we can have a truly fitting finale, with all your excellent orifices filled to the brim … and beyond.”

Raquel Brookfield started to react to that threat, only then her rapist exploded his jism deep inside, making her stiffen and recoil.

Just as she collapsed beneath him, the employees covered the gasping beauty’s face and chest with spewing semen.

Minerva Slattery waited until the poor girl could see and breathe again before delivering the coup de gras. “After all, my dear, the family that fucks together stays together.”

THE END

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