THE LIBRARY: Rebound Part Fifty-Two

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

So she was “calmed,” blinded, silenced, deafened, and redressed in a motel room -- her hands wired and taped to her thighs through slits in the jacket and skirt, while her thighs were hobbled just under the skirt hem. He thought about threatening her about not collapsing or trying to run, but he figured it would do no good. What could he threaten her with after what he, his family, and their associates, had already done? So he had just injected her with some intoxicant and let the fates decide. Poor little Leesa….

“Well, here are the keys, sir,” the real estate man finally said. “I hope you’ll be very happy here.”

“I’m sure we will,” Andy replied, then motioned at the doorknob with his head. “Would you mind doing the honors? I want to carry my bride over the transom … whether she knows it or not.”

And with that, Andy scooped up his squealing, kicking bride into his arms.

The real estate man felt a sharp pang of envy, so he quickly turned away, unlocked the door and threw it wide.

“Thanks,” said the new groom and home/office owner as she surged by with the undulating, mewling beauty tight in his arms. The place was just as he left it: bereft of furniture, plain, white, utilitarian, like so many other dentist home offices, with just a thick white wall-to-wall carpet installed to swallow up all sounds.

He set his bride down on her sexy shoes by the far wall, and put his hand out toward the real estate man. The man all but threw the keys into his palm. “Thanks again, man,” Andy said with a leer, making his purpose crystal clear. “Now we got some christening to do. Close the door, would you?” He was already turning to his quivering bride when the real estate man did as he was told.

As the man headed back to his car, imagining her happy, laughing face beneath the veil as she joined him in celebration, Andy held Leesa Mendaski against the wall by her lovely throat, tearing off her hat, sunglasses and flesh-colored tape squares practically as one. “Welcome home!” he cried, certain she could read his lips.

Leesa’s clearing blue eyes grew huge and frightened above the chin-to-nostrils, cheek-to-cheek swash of porous, form-fitting plaster tape covering her lower face. Her eyes darted everywhere, taking in the familiar, seemingly normal, surroundings, as Andy just kept tearing at her.

First the jacket, down her arms and back, then the shirt -- ripping it wide to reveal the gorgeous lace scalloped bra squashing her magnificent orbs into swelling flesh balls.

Then the skirt, straight up the front, to reveal the garter belt and stockings. There were no panties. With the flick of the pen knife on his key-ring, her wire hobbles were snapped, almost echoing the sound of the keys hitting the wall.

“I’ve always wanted to do this!” he laughed, grabbing her ass and then slamming into her. Leesa wailed beneath as his member coursed into her once more as her body twisted in agony. But then one forearm was across her throat, while his other hand was inside the bra, grinding her left tit.

He savagely raped her there, against the wall, thudding her luscious body repeatedly against the wall, irrevocably dragging her weeping form down to their knees.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he growled into her miserable, tear, sweat, and mucous-streaked face as he kept rutting and clutching. “What did I do to deserve this, right? You’re a nice girl, a kind girl, a sweet girl…” He jammed his cock all the way up her again as she cringed. He caressed her lovely face with one hand while squeezing her perfect right tit with the other. “But you’re also a hot girl, a sexy girl, a gorgeous girl. You’re the most fuckable thing I’ve ever seen. And we both know you were never gonna let me do it…!”

Eventually she was on her back, only her shoes left intact as he fucked her again on the foyer carpet in the mid-morning sunlight. As she writhed in the remnants of the shirt, skirt, and stockings, uselessly kicked, and tried to scream, the bell for the next class rang across the street. He came into her clawing, spasming, glorious shape to the sound of laughing kids.

"How is she, doctor?”

“Well,” Doctor Jennings sighed. “You know what she was like when she was brought here….”

Kerry Sherman’s parents practically shuddered at the memory. Could it have been just twelve hours ago that the state police had contacted them? Could it have been just eleven hours ago when they had witnessed the police raid on the remote roadhouse to find their beautiful young daughter and … and ….

Doctor Jennings observed their haunted faces, practically reliving the experience. After all, the raid had been filmed on helmet-cams, and the footage remained the highest rated video in both the police station and Dr. Jennings’ office.

It showed a small horde of smelly, greasy, leather-clad derelicts of both sexes mauling, assaulting, molesting and violating the sexiest little brunette any of them had ever seen. Cocks were in almost all her orifices, while the crones lasciviously went at her breasts, clit, and face.



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