Outside, Cheryl Mendaski repeated sternly, “Have you heard from your son?”
“Of course!’ Agnes replied in kind. “He called me from his dental college just the other day. Isn’t your girl at college too?”
Cheryl Mendaski clamped her jaw tightly shut. They could practically hear her teeth grind.
“Seems she dropped out of all her classes,” Jim chipped in.
“Well, wouldn’t she be around there, then?” Agnes suggested.
“Her roommate said she said she was coming back here,” Ted chimed in. “Something about surprising her folks….”
“She knew she had better not warn us of her decision,” Danny Mendaski said tightly. “Or I woulda talked her out of it.”
“Daniel,” his wife spat. “Please!”
“Yeah, yeah, well…,” he continued, then ground to a miserable halt.
“Oh my god, no,” they all heard. Agnes turned, and the others looked to where Tom Brannigan was walking up to join them. “That means she would have been back in the area just when those bikers were…!” He cannily cut off his train of thought, then looked to the Mendaskis with sympathy. “Please, please, Danny, Cheryl, please come in, sit down. You too Jim, Ted….!”
He wouldn’t take no for an answer. Within minutes the Mandaskis, as well as the sheriff and deputy, were seated where the Brannigans had first attacked, bound, gagged, and raped the sexy little Sherman girl.
“Let me get you some coffee, ok?” Tom asked and headed off to the kitchen.
There his son stood with his new bride, waiting….
Leesa was wearing a skintight, red, summer micro-mini-dress with white polka dots and a bikini-like top that barely held her breasts with small triangular patches – her mammaries bulging around them with every labored breath.
And every breath was labored since a new, tight, thin choker pressed into her blue-goo-smeared larynx like a garrotte, and a new, tight, padded, tan, three-strap gag fastened around her mouth, across her head, and also tight under her chin. To cap it off, sedative-soaked gauze was stuck in her nostrils. Her blue eyes were open and glittering, but weak.
Her bare arms were behind her, nestled in the small of her back, forearms bandaged tightly parallel to each other. Her legs were naked, save for fur-padded ballet slippers that laced up her shins.
Tom Brannigan immediately sidled up to her tremulous form while unzipping his pants. “So long, Leesa,” he said, one hand snaking around her back while the other slipped into the dress’ deep bikini-esque neckline. “Happy honeymoon.”
Then his rock-hard cock jammed unerringly up her panty-less cunt.
TO BE CONTINUED