THE LIBRARY: Swimsuit Issue Part Eight

wrap08SWIMSUIT ISSUE Part Eight
A “Lost” Tyler File Recently Recovered - CONTINUED FROM HERE

Within seconds, it was as if nothing had happened. The senior stood angrily off to the side while Tara pitifully struggled on the bed: her whimpering, cum-soaked mouth filled with her own knotted hair, her lips sealed, and her chin gripped with fat, hard crone hands. Her ankles were gathered up and bound with more cloth, and her body was being slathered with gobs more ancient medications.

It was squeezed into her cunt, spreading like wriggling worms. It coated her breasts, being agonizingly rubbed in by more fat, hard hands. And as Tara mewled pathetically, the translator confronted the senior.

"I was not done," he insisted. "I did not finish!"

"You are disgraced!" the woman shot back at him. "What if the seductress' followers had taken this moment to return?"

"They would have heard nothing," the senior maintained, "even if they had been directly outside that window!"

Tara tried to yell, tried to accuse him, but her attempt was misunderstood by the crones. They merely gripped her tighter...the cruel one taking the opportunity to punch her sharply in the kidney...Tara's own body blocking any witness.

The model's back arched, her face contorting in pain. Then she collapsed, tears streaming from her fluttering eyelids.

"You must make amends," the translator insisted to the senior, oblivious.

"But I didn't finish!" the man bellowed.

"Sister," the cruel one said quickly. "It may be true...." The translator turned toward her in concern. "The whore is still too strong to have suffered two...'unions' one evening," the cruel one continued earnestly.

The translator looked to the others, remembering Tara's sudden struggle. Completely unknowing of Tara's youth and athletic strength...knowing only their own distaste for sexual intercourse...they had to agree, nodding. Oh no, this demoness was much too strong still to have had sex twice in one night...!

"You see?" flared the senior.

"It is no matter!" the translator snapped back. "This lust vessel is for the entire village, not just for you! For you, it is over!" He opened his mouth to complain, but she cut him off. "Tonight, over!" She turned back to the bed, angrier than any of them had ever seen her. Tara's pleading look of hope only darkened her expression. "Prepare to return to the secret place."

Tara's look of longing turned to tearful distress as they wrenched her off the bed.

The night was dark, but it was no longer silent. The wind still blew through the narrow lanes, making a mournful sound. But distantly, added just on top of that was a tortuous gasping noise. As two of the crones kept watch to insure they were not followed, more held Tara tightly in the corner of an alley.

The beautiful girl’s head was turned all the way up to the sky, the thick bit tied even more tightly all the way back between her very rear teeth. Saliva poured out from every side as if she were a dribbling fountain. She didn't seem to care or even know it. When her eyes opened, they were wild and unseeing.

She stood in her burnoose, legs anchored and wide, hands gripping her bound arms tightly from outside the clothing, and other arms inside the garment's empty sleeves—expertly stimulating Tara's breasts.

From outside, it merely looked as if four friends were helping a pain-wracked fifth remain upright. The only evidence to the truth was the occasional rustle of the burnoose body at the height of Tara's tits...and of her clit.

No one but Tara knew what the cruel one was doing crouched completely under the burnoose skirt with her. Even Tara didn't know that the translator had instructed the seemingly innocent persecutor to "Relieve her," ignorantly thinking that Tara's own sexual tension was still built up from the senior's "incomplete union."

Naturally, they would have to accomplish that before they returned to the sanctified secret place, where no man could find Tara before it was their turn. And, of course the cruel one took the opportunity to push her fist all the way up Tara's cunt.

Now, with it rooting around in there, the cruel one was adding her fingers to Tara's tender, supple rectum.

Every second, the cruel one savagely thumbed Tara's clit, driving the already abominably defiled supermodel nearly insane with stimulus. The cruel one was timing it perfectly, knowing she would have to blast an orgasm out of the tortured victim, but taking her time about doing it.

Until she thought the translator was just about to say "Quickly," the cruel one would abuse the beauty...overjoyed that the girl could say or do absolutely nothing about it, despite the fact that the truth was literally one shred of cloth away.

Tara had tried to tell them. She had stared down at the skirt as the fingers pulled her labia wide just within, growing increasing agitated, but the translator had angrily said: "Control yourself, wanton slattern, lest you give away our location!"

So they had grabbed her, pulled her hair, and jammed the bit even harder into her mouth.

Tara silently screamed, making a sound only the dogs could hear, every tendon threatening to snap as the cruel one's thin arm continued to sink deeper and deeper into her snatch. Finally, the persecutor's inner alarm went off, and she rubbed Tara's g-spot furiously, pulled her arm out like delivering a child, and rammed two fingers up the captive princess' anus.

Tara's body snapped in place: once, twice, three times, liquid spilling out of her agonized mouth like a foamy drink thrown from a beer glass. She then shuddered and started to collapse while the persecutor quickly emerged from beneath her voluminous skirt. She helped the others gather the pillaged model up (while stabbing her fingertips deep into the inner side of Tara's right boob).

Tara's eyes fluttered open momentarily, then drooped again.

"She is insatiable, sister!" the persecutor lied to the translator. "Until this moment I could not accept her true carnal soul!"

The translator shook her head sadly, looking down at the fever-wracked form molded in the resting burnoose. "She is truly a gift and curse." She looked to the others. "We have unloosed a sexual beast, sisters. For her own safety, and for ours, she must be secured and silenced you understand?"

The others nodded grimly, looking from the leader to the slack, trembling, enchantress they held in their arms.

In the shadow behind the translator, the persecutor couldn't suppress a thin, smug, grin.


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