THE LIBRARY: Model Prisoner Part 3

Model3MODEL PRISONER Part 3 {Continued From Here}

{This story originally appeared on BDSMARTWORK and features some amazing art by Agnes. We thank them for letting us share it with you here}  


“Anything to declare?” asked the customs official.

“No, sir,” the woman in the car at the border station said sweetly.

The Procurer watched through the binoculars as she and the car was thoroughly searched. All auto, train, and airline stations along the border had been alerted to be on the lookout for a missing girl...though the urgent, top-secret, top priority report did not say exactly who.

“Wouldn’t they like to know?” he growled, looking down at Michelle Mureau, who kneeled unwillingly at his feet against a tree.

Her arms and legs, from the knees down, were pulled around the two-foot circumference of the tree trunk, her ankles strapped together, and her wrists strapped to her ankles. A pull-tie practically disappeared into her tiny waist, holding her torso to the tree, and another plastic strap was tight under her deep, square jaw, holding her head up, though not threatening her windpipe.

She wore a black, cire, wet-look, seamless, wonderbra with moulded underwire cups, and a high cut, v- panel, bikini thong bottom. On her dainty feet were black strap sandals with four inch spike heels.

Her lolling head and heaving chest were smeared with his cum -- which spurt from his revealed cock every few minutes -- even without his manual stimulation.

“There’s our ride,” he murmured, returning his eyes to the field glasses as his dick seemed to aim itself at Michelle’s exhausted, dripping face.

They had dragged her out of the car again some distance from the border. As the woman drove away, he had raped her again, in a ditch this time, as others cars passed just a few yards from her, hurrying to get in line at the border crossing. As she moaned and mewed in disbelief, trapped beneath him, he came in her again, her clawing fingers and curling toes unable to rise high enough to be seen from the road.

Then, waiting for a break in the traffic, he dragged her into a thicket, redressed her, then carried her semi-conscious form up a heavily-wooded hill, taking a position on a well-foliaged bluff overlooking the border station. There he affixed her to the tree and started to douse her anew with his semen.

By the time the moon had risen, the plugs in her nose had dried, but the effects of the attacks had all but replaced the sedative’s effect. She was all but unaware of his careful cleaning of her face and chest, removing what cum wasn’t massaged into her skin.

It wasn’t until she heard the sound of something approaching that she regained full consciousness, straightening as well as she could, with her big blue-green eyes widening in hope and wonder.

Then, through the bushes and brambles, came three men from the border patrol, complete with uniforms and pistols. Michelle started to call to them in agitation and relief as they neared. But she stilled, her breath caught in her throat, as they simply approached with measured paces.

“That’s her,” one breathed. “It is her....”

“I told you so,” her rapist said evenly. “I don’t lie.”

“Why doesn’t she scream?” asked another.

“She can’t,” her rapist replied. “We plugged her mouth. Glued her lips.”

“Really?” said the third, obvious from his expression and epaulets the ranking officer of the trio. He kneeled down to face the shocked supermodel, checking her lips as if examining a reluctant pony.

“Yeah, she can’t open‘em all right. What did you use?”

“Surgical adhesive,” the man answered. “You going to talk all night or accept the bribe?”

The commander stood, looking meaningfully at the others in the darkness. Then he started to undo his belt and pull down his zipper.

Finally Michelle tried to really scream, but her rapist kneeled calmly behind her with surgical glue thinner in one hand and a huge ring gag in the other. Her strong, sexy jaw was so weak from the ball that replacing it with the ring gag was no problem. Her eyes bulged as he tightened the strap behind her head, jamming her mouth open at its widest possible aperture.

Then the plastic pull ties snapped open, but she couldn’t control her weakened limbs. The captor and the border patrol trio made quick work of restrapping her wrists to her ankles. Then they carefully laid her on her back in the moonlight and tore off her underwear.

Each man took turns at her cunt, tits, and ring-gagged lips as her captor casually leaned against the tree -- tossing the ball that had been in her mouth up and down into his hand. With just a chorus of grunts and animal yowls they furiously raped, tit-fucked, and mouth-spurt her, reveling in her cringing, contorting defilement.

Then, rolling her onto her stomach, each man took turns at her anus, as another lowered her face onto his erection, and the third plopped his cock into one of her hands. Making her blow them by raising and lowering her head with her hair, while another rubbed his cock between her fingers (or her affixed wrist and ankle), they cannoned more cum inside and across her. Finally, each man having come thrice in her, they masturbated on her trembling, burbling form.

  “You need any help?” another border patrol officer asked hopefully.

“Nope,” said the man, cinching her ankles side by side with a length between to use as a handle. “Got it all arranged.”

They dragged her into the boat in full view of the border guards at 2am -- the ball back in her mouth, her lips taped shut. Dropping her onto the bunk below decks, he crawled between her bound legs, mashed her tits in his hands, and fucked her on English "soil" -- as the Bitch unerringly piloted the craft toward their destination.

Afterwards, he carried her quivering form to a car which was waiting at the end of the private pier, where The Bitch dressed her in a rich, white satin, demi-bra with exquisite lace trim, matching high cut thong, and four-inch high heels -- further affixing her already cinched mouth, wrists, and ankles with white tape -- before returning to the driver’s seat.


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