Tom heard her gurgle, swallow, and then moan, all the sounds dampened by the eight-buckle, jaw-wrenching, prod gag they had affixed over her lower face. She seemed to be in the middle of an eternal high c, except you couldn't see her mouth, which was open to its widest possible aperture, her unseen teeth clenched deep into a huge red rubber ball. And over that was an amazingly tight swath of leather which clamped onto her face. Her cheeks and chin were straining on either side of the obstruction's cover, which was secured by the four straps on either side of the muzzle.
To add to her silence was a single, thin, yellow, rubber-coated wire which noosed her lovely throat and was knotted around a hook screwed deep into a ceiling beam. Her shoulders hunched, trying despite herself to get her hands up to relieve the pressure at her throat and mouth, but the single glove that was laced up her arms and strapped across her upper chest gave no more this time than the dozens of other spastic attempts.
Instead all her action did was jiggle her luscious tits once more as they balanced atop the waist-crushing blue/black leather corset which molded her shape like liquid steel. She gasped, sighing, as her reaction to the call had moved her on the bolted down impaling pole which shot up between her thigh-high stockinged legs. Besides her tiny noises, the only other sound from her side of the room was the tiny clinking of the clips which held her ankles to either side of the iron pole.
"Was that call for you?" Tom Brannigan asked her sarcastically. "No, I don't think so." Leesa rolled her pain-wracked, tearing eyes. Tom watched those beautiful blue orbs glisten, looking anywhere but at him as his grin widened. He filled his right hand with Kerry Sherman's left breast and squeezed it brutally for the blonde's benefit.
For the brunette's part, she hardly felt it anymore. Her chest was numb. As were her arms, face, hips, and legs. She stared at the wall and corner of the ceiling, blinking, still trying, and not trying, to comprehend what had happened and was happening.
The innkeepers had attacked her. They had clamped her mouth shut with their hands, choke-leashed her, and tied her hands behind her back before she could even move. Then they had torn off her t-shirt and ripped down her shorts. Their hands had been inside her bra and panties before she could react. Their strength overpowered her like a tidal wave hitting a sand castle.
They had stuffed her shirt in her mouth, they had knocked her back into an overstuffed easy chair. The sensations at her chest and between her legs were already overwhelming. She screamed and struggled exactly like a crazy girl, but she was wedged in the seat, and hands were at her face and chest, her air cut off by a cord.
By the time she realized he was inside her, he was already thrusting and pumping like an animal. She didn't understand: it was daytime, sun was pouring into the room, she could see the lake in the distance outside the windows, and her parents were just a few stories above her. But there was a shackled, muzzled, blinded blonde girl stumbling against the wall and the innkeepers were brutally assaulting her.
But then she couldn't breathe and her eyes began to grow grainy. She was only aware of drowning in buffeting waves until a thick cream, which seemed both warm and cool at the same time, splattered against her jaw and across her face.
Even before she could take that in, she was propelled up and across the room. She stumbled down wooden stairs into a cool area of concrete, stone, wood, and dirt.
They had her in the bed and breakfast's basement. Her clothes were gone. She felt the blue electrical tape going on her wrists and ankles. She felt her sodden shirt being pulled out and a big, hard, cold, oval steel ball going in. She felt her lips being taped closed and together. She felt herself being pushed forward over a wooden bench.
Then the cock was back inside her.
TO BE CONTINUED