She wore a lovely white lace teddy with the crotch open, his cock plugging her from behind. It was tightly laced up her bulging chest and over her shoulders. Her face was muzzled by a harness which plugged her mouth, mashed her lips behind a square hunk of leather, and buckled behind her neck with straps coming from both across her scalp and cheeks.
Her arms were behind her, her taped wrists and his clamped hand keeping her fingers on the base of his shaft. His other hand was tightly gripping her left tit. The old woman had her hand between the girl's legs, her fingers pinching Kerry's clit above her old man's log. Her ankles were tied separately to two baseboard slats. Finally, her neck was lightly chained to the headboard.
Kerry blinked, seeing something indistinct beyond the bodies of her attackers. As her groggy eyes adjusted to the dark, her ears did as well. Coming into focus, between the bed and the bedroom door, was a figure in flesh and white.
It was the blonde. She was sitting in a plain white chair, her lush, creamy, unblemished body both taut and slightly squirming at the same time.
She wore a white demi-cup bra which thrust her jangling nipples up. On the pink nubs were small, nasty, silver, alligator-teethed clips. Her arms were wrenched behind her, but Kerry could make out white gloves which came up to the blonde's forearms.
Something dark was across her lower face and throat. It was a brick of black leather on her mouth, straps going tightly around her head. There was some sort of buckle on her throat, holding her back.
Her legs were wide. There was a white lace garter belt around her hips, thigh high white stockings on her legs, and severe white high heels on her feet -- her ankles tied to the outside of the chair legs. She was humming.
No.... Yes.... She was making some sort of muffled, dim, agonizing sound, but she was not humming. Her crotch was. Kerry slowly blinked. Her vision sharpened for just one second. It was long enough to see the way something was moving inside her black thatch. No, not black thatch. She was a natural blonde. It was a strap. Something was moving and surging and humming on the other side of a black strap tightened between her legs.
The blonde's shoulders spasmed. Her fingers clawed the air.
She jerked over and over again in the bolted down chair, her sweat-slicked skin gleaming in the moonlight.
Then Kerry lost consciousness again.
When she regained consciousness she was on her back, on a mattress, in this sunshine filled room, the blonde was on the impaling pole, and the bastard was inside her again. But there was still nothing she could do about it.
Her body was strapped down. There was a thick, wide collar completely covering her throat, forcing her head back. Her mouth was stuffed so full with something rubbery that her cheeks bulged out over the seemingly cement pad which covered her lower face from ear to ear to chin to nostrils.
There were black straps on either side of her neck which adhered to a ring between the top of her exposed breasts. More straps came from them over her chest and around her body. Straps were under her breasts and around her waist. Straps adhered her ankles to her thighs. Her wrists were strapped, her arms were strapped, her elbows were strapped. Her feet were wedged into black high heels.
She was a concurved shape on the thick padding, his hand was filled with her round, buoyant orb, and he was rutting deep inside her again.
"No," he said to the blonde. "That was for me. Yes dear?!" he cried, the fingers on Kerry's tit tightening like a vice.
"Could you come down?" they all heard his wife call.
He looked purposely at the blonde, then down at the brunette. His face was triumphant. Kerry shuddered. "Sure," he called out, his eyes locked with the brunette's deep brown ones. "Just give me a second to finish up what I'm doing here, okay?"
He started fucking Kerry like a piston as both girls tried to wail.
Downstairs, the four heard nothing. Agnes looked apologetically at Kerry's parents as her husband raped their daughter just out of their sight. "Sorry for the delay," she said sheepishly. "He'll come in a minute."
Tom gripped Kerry's beautifully smooth shoulders, exulting in the way her collarbones deepened and her vagina clamped down hot and wet. He erupted into her for the eighth time in eighteen hours, but this was the first time she actually felt it. She blinked up at the ceiling in renewed shock, her body jerking in revulsion.
"There, there," he said, finally pulling out of her. "Okay," he shouted downstairs as he reached for more straps, which lay on the floor beside the mattress. "That'll do it for now. I'll be right down."
Like a champion rodeo rider, he cinched Kerry's knees together, and then affixed her wrists to her ankles in a severe hogtie. Then he rolled her onto her stomach, reached under her torso, filled his hands with her squishy, aching breasts, and leaned over until his mouth was by her right ear.
"Gotta go help a guest find their missing daughter," he told her. Giving her chest a squeeze, he rolled around, got to his feet, hitched his pants up, and gripped the doorknob. He stopped to stare into Leesa's unbelieving, horrified eyes. "You just wait 'til our boy gets home," he promised, and then he was out of the room, leaving the door wide open.
Kerry stared at the hallway in astonishment. She heard the man go down the stairs, saying "What's up," and then the unmistakable sounds of other voices ... voices, by their very pitch and timber, of people who had absolutely no idea what was going on in this room. People who had no inkling or could even dream, in their wildest nightmare, of what had happened.
Then came the sound that Kerry recognized above and beyond this horror. She started to cry out. She started to yell. She started to scream. "Mom! Dad! Help! Oh god, please!" Only Leesa heard the noise, which sounded like a yearling being smothered. She tried to scream as well, but all she could do was moan.
CONTINUED FROM HERE