THE LIBRARY: Thin Ice Part 8

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

The ball was still in her mouth. Her lips were sealed with plaster tape. A wet towel was pressed over her lower face. She tried to wave to him, but they had dried the oil from her arms, and tied her wrists incredibly tight in the small of her back. She tried to crawl to him, but the man who had grabbed her wrist was holding onto her hips, sliding his cock into her as she lay behind the bushes on her stomach.

"See him?" whispered her other tormentor, lying beside her, holding her head in the towel, watching the cop as well. "Doesn't know you're here. Wonder what he'd do if he knew a babe with your body and looks was just twenty-five yards away?"

She tried to kick or turn or yell at him, but all she could do was cringe and moan.

The cop looked up, listening carefully to the moan of the wind... before reholstering his gun and walking away, shaking his head. He closed the door of his car just as Mia was come into yet again. Her head nearly emerged from the space between bushes, but the other man gripped her mane. The cop drove away as the rapist fell heavily on Mia's squirming back.

"So...," he said to the other persecutor. "What now?"

"Now?" he mused looking at her smudged, pain-wracked, yet still exquisite face. "Now you bring the car around while she gives me a tit-fuck."

"So," said the one driving. "This wasn't part of the plan."

The other tore his eyes from the back seat to look at his partner. "What do you mean?"

"The plan was," said the driver carefully, "that we take her, fuck her until she can't walk, let alone skate, threaten her with more, then go with no one the wiser."

"So?" said the other mildly.

"So?! So this wasn't the plan!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," said the other. "But what were our orders?"


"Our orders," the other repeated with a smile.

"Our orders were to keep her from competing, right?"

"Well, yeah...," the driver admitted.

"And come on," his partner urged. "Wasn't she the best screw you ever had? Admit it! Right?"

The driver started to smile in spite of himself. "Well." He gazed to the back seat. There Mia Chung lay, her dress ripped around her exquisite body, her arms bent all the way up her back, her wrists crossed and tied at her shoulder blades below her juicy breasts. Her upper face and hair was dotted and streaked with cum. Her lower face was sealed with tape, her mouth filled. A seat belt was wrapped and buckled around her throat, keeping her head down on the seat. More cum dried and dripped on her chin.

More rope wrapped her waist and dug into her hip bones to secure strands which sunk all the way up her vaginal canal and deep between her perfect ass cheeks. On her legs now were black lace-topped thigh high stockings, her ankles crossed and secured with another seat belt, her dainty feet encased tightly in the high heels. Her lovely almond eyes were wide open and pained, her face furrowed in terror.

"Yeah," he finally said. "She sure as hell was."

"Is," said the other, starting to undo her ankles. "Was, is, and always will beS." Mia started to renew her struggling, her head falling back, a wail trying to rip from her gag. But then her legs were wide and he was on, and in, her again.


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