She couldn’t believe her life had become this: bound, gagged, nipple-clamped, breast-and-cunt-roped as he shopped for new slut-wear; fucked in parking garages and motel rooms; straining to escape her “wifely duties” as her “hubby” prepared the next phase in their “honeymoon.”
Leesa Mendaski wailed in hopelessness as he came inside her again.
Sheriff Jim let his words drift off as Mr. Mendaski led his wife to their room so she could lie down.
Danny Mendaski caught up to the cops as they made their way down the stairs. “Well, we’ll keep looking,” Jim told him. “There’s a lot of this kind of thing going around nowadays it seems….”
“Yes,” Mendaski said, “yes, that’s right. The Sherman girl, wasn’t it? Have you made any progress on that?”
“Nice of you to ask,” said the Sheriff as they entered the kitchen. “You can sympathize with her folks, but don’t empathize, Dan. That’s a totally different situation. Your girl, well, we’re pretty sure she’s on … well, let’s just call it a vacation. The Sherman girl, we’re pretty sure she was taken by that biker gang we heard about. That’s not good. But we’ll find ‘em, don’t you worry about that.”
All they had to do was check the gang’s dark, dank stinking, reeking, fetid dive bar HQ—where the juke box was punding out acid and southern rock while Kerry Sherman was in the back room, naked, laying back first on the leader, his cock jammed all the way up her anus, his hands bulging with her abused tits. Another gang member was atop her, at her hips, his cock up her cunt.
The lead mama was kneeling by her throat, one boney talon holding Kerry’s jaw open for the cock being pushed into her moaning mouth, the other stroking her throat, forcing her to repeatedly swallow.
Two more mamas had Kerry’s wrists in their hands, “urging” her to continue jacking off two more hard-ons between her fingers. Another guy sat by her head jerking himself off with her smooth, thick, lustrous hair. Another pair of bikers had her ankles, sliding their erections across her feet tops and bottoms. Finally there were the others who just waited their turn.
“We’ll find them all right,” Sheriff Jim concluded, tipped his hat and went outside with Deputy Ted. The two stood there for a moment, looking off into the distance as if contemplating a universal truth, then made their way back to their car … which was parked in front of a nondescript sedan with darkened windows.
The police car left the curb and the neighborhood, the nondescript car slowly following. They both stopped behind a dank, dark dive bar.
When Jim and Ted opened the back door of the non-descript vehicle, Leesa was “waiting” for them: still “dressed” in the bustier, garter belt, hose, and heels, still panel-gagged, but bound with her forearms strapped parallel in the small of her smooth back.
She started kicking and screaming as they fell in from either door. “Now, now, honey, don’t be like that,” Andy chided. “They’ve earned this visit for making your folks feel better, remember?”
The sheriff sat on her stomach, getting a rousing tit fuck, as the deputy plunged into her cunt. “Yeah, bitch, he muttered. “Been waiting for this ever since I came in your face…!”
About four minutes into the assault, as Jim played with Leesa’s thick hair and Ted was plunging his sopping hard-on into her lubed ass, the senior cop noticed the bride’s hubby watching them dispassionately from the front seat.
“Now don’t you mind us,” the sheriff drawled. “We just got to make sure we don’t feel like attacking the Sherman girl as soon as we see her again….” And then he spurt cum into the bound and gagged blonde’s quailing face.
TO BE CONTINUED