THE LIBRARY: Deaf, Dumb & Blind Date Part 8

Deaf9DEAF, DUMB & BLIND DATE Part 8 {Continued From Here}
{This story originally appeared on BDSMARTWORK and features some amazing art by SteveWe thank them for letting us share it with you here}

The old  woman came around to stand between me and the girl tied brutally to the chair.

"He ain't right, you see," she said, almost apologetically, as he started to untie the girl...

"His father was a weak, stupid man, and left him with the stupid part."

"Not the weak part, though," I said, seeing the rope burns on Erin's creamy skin as he freed her ankles.

The old woman stared at me sharply. "Not that kinda weakness, mister." Then she leaned in, speaking almost kindly into Erin's face. "He left us, you see. Jim's father. With only a couple of things to remember him by. That book..." She motioned to the paperback on the table"...And this pamphlet...on how to be a man." She held a thin, ratty, old booklet up to Erin's widening eyes.

She started to bleat in terror, but Ida only kept talking soothingly.

"It's all the boy knows," she said. "All he has. So I made a little arrangement with this nice man here. We take care of him, and he brings things for my boy... to help him become a man...."

She tossed the pamphlet on the table as Erin tried even more desperately to wrench herself away. But the ropes Jim left on were enough to contain her until he was ready. Then his giant hands grabbed her, stood her up and hurled her to the mattress, where she managed to almost get back to her feet, despite her deadened legs, before he was on her.

I looked over at the booklet on the table.

"The Proud Black Man" it  read. And inside were diatribes on whitey and what the proud black man should do to the oppressors. Take their money... burn their homes... rape their women....

It even had illustrations. Sketchy black and white ones, to be sure, but clear enough. Erin was choking, bleating, and begging through the still remarkably tight gag, her arms wrenched behind her where her wrists were still  cinched.

He had torn her skirt in half and ripped the shirt completely off her  front. Her breasts cannoned free, but then his hands and mouth were there, grinding, slapping, mauling, sucking, and biting.

His shaft was huge. and it shot between Erin's legs like a Zulu spear.

I watched six inches of it jam in, then three more, then, finally, like  lava, three inches more, until he had plugged himself all the way inside her.

Erin's face was flushed, veins throbbing on her brow, sweat pouring down her cheeks, the tendons in her neck like harp strings.

The sound coming  from behind the gag was like a steam vent on a pressure cooker ready to blow.  She writhed below him like a fish on a hook, trying frantically to relieve the pressure. But then he started thrusting.

Erin's face looked like she was about to be torn in half. She tried to scream, she tried to sit up, but all she could do was stiffen halfway there, as if trying to give birth. But then his mouth was on her face and he bore her down, still rutting.

I watched it all. I watched her kick. I watched her kicks get weaker. I watched her stop kicking. I watched her face jerk up and down with each thrust. I watched the gag tighten deeper and deeper onto her mouth. I watched her skin color go from red to purple to a sickly gray-green. I watched him tighten. I watched her try to crawl away. I saw him come. I watched Erin react as if he had jammed a live wire  into her tit. And then it was over. She lay there in tatters of white and  black, her skin shining with sweat, her hair across her pale face, her breasts quivering.

He pulled out his impossibly long shaft and plopped it between her mounds. For once something else was worthy of those mammaries. Then, to  even my surprise, he ejaculated again, the pint of jism coursing into her chin and across her chest and neck like half-whipped cream.

She cringed, stretched, and screamed for all she was worth, and then collapsed. The sound had barely made it to the doorway.

I looked at the old woman. The old woman looked at me. She tossed me a small ball of black microfiber.

"The van's in the alley," she said. "Where her car used to be."

Dumping Erin into the back of the old, scraped, dented, rusting, once-white van was no problem.

She cringed, stretched, and screamed for all she was worth, and then collapsed.  The sound had barely made it to the doorway. I looked at the old woman. The old woman looked at me. She tossed me a small ball of black micro-fiber.

"The van's in the alley," she said. "Where her car used to be."

Dumping her into the back of the old, scraped, dented, rusting, once-white van was no problem.  Erin was somewhere between sleep and death.  Even so, I couldn't help admiring the way the deep v-necked micro-minidress adhered to every pore of her spectacular body while revealing almost all of it.  Even the very inner sides of her aureoles could be glimpsed, and seemingly all her naked legs -- ending in black five-inch ankle straps.

I quickly climbed in after her, though, and dragged her to the passenger seat. I handcuffed her wrists behind the seat, cuffed her ankles to the metal under seat carriage, then lowered the back of the chair so even her tits were below window level.

Only then did I lovingly, carefully insert the big black ball gag into her lax mouth.

Finally I placed a drug-soaked square of cloth over her nose and mouth and, with two long pieces, taped it there. Couldn't have her making a fuss downtown.

TO BE CONTINUED

 

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