Leesa felt nothing. She lay on her back on the white carpet in Agnes Brannigan's bathroom off the major bedroom, her beautiful blonde hair fanning out around her head.
Her rosy pink lips stretched around a big baby-blue ballgag deep in her mouth. Her arms were behind her, secured by regular rope which also wrapped her torso, throat, and dug deep into her waist. Her ankles were bent back, tied to her thighs. She wore nothing else but severe baby-blue high heels.
Her own crystalline baby blues stared in horrified disbelief at her numb chest which all but obscured her vision. Her breasts were virtually a third larger, seemingly about to erupt with milk, her distended nipples like valves about to blow. It was as if they were water balloons a nano-second away from bursting. She made no sound, just blinked over and over again at the things on her chest where her tits used to be.
"There's no danger, is there?" the kneeling, fascinated woman asked her husband without even looking back at him.
If she had, she would have noted his scowling face and the way his pants bulged between his thighs. "Naw," he replied both casually and sourly. "They're sensitive as all get out, but they're not going to pop, if that's what you mean...."
Finally she did look back at him with a wicked grin. "That's what I mean, all right. So I guess we've got us a little training time before dinner and our boy gets back, huh?"
The man grunted.
"You wanna watch?" the woman invited.
Tom Brannigan said nothing. He just turned around and walked out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, into the hall, and down toward the attic door. Kerry managed to get one bleat out before he had dragged a dingy mattress out from under an eave, rolled her onto it, and started untying her legs.
The girl started trying to screech and beg from under the gag, but then he suddenly grabbed the dress top, tore it wide, and slammed his hands onto her tits as if they were mounds of pizza dough.
"Shut up, bitch," he growled.
Kerry felt as if someone had set off two grenades in her head. She was blinded and deafened by the overwhelming shock. When she recovered he had already tied her left ankle to her thigh and was affixing her right ankle to the base of a ceiling support beam. The girl tried to get her voice back but could only gurgle, her eyes rolling, until he leaned down and wedged a dirty, smelly pillow under her neck.
Her eyes cleared as her head raised, so she saw him clearly as he pulled off his clothes and positioned himself atop her. She stared in dread as he casually ripped the dress hem even more, exposing her soft auburn tuft.
Then he was doing a reverse push-up, his arms on either side of her head.
"There's something else about this stuff you should know," she heard him mumble as she felt his cock crown touch her vaginal lips.
"It makes you wet as hell."
He plunged all the way inside her like a bowie knife into a soft leather scabbard. Kerry jerked in response, all her muscles bunching against her will.
It felt as if he had torn open a hole in reality. All her senses were at full response power. She felt a pleasure and a fear that she had never experienced before. She begged to go mad, but knew she wouldn't, which filled her with even greater terror.
He started thrusting, as she lay beneath him, trying to comprehend this new assault. "See?" he grunted. "This stuff turns on the full girl, right? That's why we had to stop using it and hush it up. It would fuck up too many women's libbers' heads." He sniggered. "Hush," he repeated. "Fuck. Appropriate words, huh, bitch?"
He wrapped his arms under her shoulders, gripped her collar bones and squished her tits against his chest, ever surging. "Oh, shit," he growled. "Makes you tight, too, huh? Look at you, bitch, so soft and warm. A real fuck toy...."
Kerry was moaning under the gag, her fingers spasming, her toes pointing, her body writhing like lava.
TO BE CONTINUED