THE LIBRARY: The Audition Part 12

{This story originally appeared on BDSMARTWORK and features some amazing art by SteveWe thank them for letting us share it with you here}

Lydia's head stretched all the way on her neck, twisting. An inhuman sound came from behind her gag. Her strapped elbows contorted below her back, the hands flopping. Her legs shook in the ankle straps once, then again, then again.

Rebecca's eyes fluttered open, filling with Lydia 's plight. Then she became aware of her own, and her eyes closed again. Her body kept jerking as the two blacks stabbed and stabbed and stabbed into her again and again and again—the one under her holding her head back by her hair; the one on top of her mashing her bulbous breasts.

Madge turned around in the driver's seat each time the captives screamed into their gags. She knew a cum-shriek when she heard it. And she heard it once, twice, three times. Each time Madge filled her eyes with the scene in the back of the van. Each time a beautiful young woman was straining with all her might against a horrible no avail.

Finally, Madge turned back toward the road with a smile ... and kept driving west.

The man who had engineered the abduction and paid for everything stood in the doorway between his dining and living room. He smiled as he looked at the table. Rebecca was lying there, naked.

Her arms were wrenched around, her wrists and elbows tied tightly to the table's two front legs. Her ankles and knees were tied to the two back legs of the heavy piece of bolted-down furniture.

The agent's prick was all the way in her beaver. Sweatpants' cock was deep in her mouth. Coverall was sitting on her torso, his knees on either side of her incredible waist, giving himself a tit-fuck with her creamy, succulent breasts.

The engineer turned to look into the living room. Madge and Buchler had just about finished preparingLydia .

Getting them from the van to his place once they reached San Gabriel was no problem. Both women had been so exhausted that prepping them inside the vehicle had been no problem either. Two trenchcoats with pockets slit went around their limp bodies. Hands were taped to thighs. Thighs were taped together. Severe ankle-strap high heels were lovingly placed on their dainty feet. Mouths were sealed with flesh-colored plaster tape. Trenchcoat collars were pulled up. Sunglasses were applied after eyes were shut with squares of tape. Hair was mussed over faces.

The two blacks sandwiched Rebecca on the way across the yard and up the stairs. Madge and the agent sandwiched Lydia . Joyce Buchler trailed them, the dart gun clutched in her pocket.

Now they were inside the heavily insulated and sound-proofed place, but they were taking no chances. Lydia was gagged stunningly tight, with a pad filling her mouth, white tape adhering to her head, bandage wrapping that, finally followed by black tape, which set off her blond hair and huge blue eyes—now both sharp with renewed terror and smoky with strain.

Her arms were twisted behind her, each wrist tied to the opposite elbow. Her forearms were also tightly strapped with tape. Otherwise her luscious body was encumbered only by a new dress.

It was an impossibly tight, wet-look, backless, sleeveless outfit of hot pink, which both crushed and outlined her breasts—the nipples only partially covered by the deep, plunging U-neckline, her pale pink aureoles almost camouflaged by the neon dress ... but not quite.

The hem clung to the very tops of her thighs, almost marking the border where the leg met the hip. The soft, gentle, delightful curls at the very end of her vaginal tuft just managed to grip the tight skirt tiny filament fingers clutching a rubber sheet top.

The pink high heels were four and three-quarter inches long, strapped deeply at her ankles. Her legs were otherwise unrestrained. What kept her from bolting were Madge and Buchler, sitting on the stuffed chair's arms on either side of her.

"How did we do, Chief?" Buchler asked with a smile.

The engineer smiled back, without taking his eyes off the cowering blond. "You done good," he said. "You deserve credit." Then he came forward, reached down, and took Lydia 's arm. "Come along, my dear." He carefully, gently helped her to her feet. She tottered there, then fell against him. He held her, looking down into her frightened, questioning eyes. "There, there," he said. "You'll get used to it." He began to lead her to the bedroom. "The best parts are still to come."

Joyce and Madge watched him drag the now bucking, kicking and screaming girl through the doorway to his private chamber.

The door slammed behind them.