She woke up with him inside her, of course.
“Hey babe,” he smiled down at her while thrusting. “No cunt likes a fuck first thing in the morning, do they? But hey, you don’t got a lot of say in the matter, do ya?”
She lay atop the bedclothes, lingerie ripped open. Her toes were uncuffed, her legs wide, as he throbbed into her. Her arms were still bandaged in the small of her back, and the padded strap was still buckled deep in her mouth – drool making a stain puddle around her head and glistening hair.
She heard a noise to her right, and turned her head to see the teacher opening the curtains. Sun shone in, making the scene even more unnerving. What was worse, when Swanson turned, she was making a video of Claire’s latest rape on her cellphone.
“C’mon,” the teacher encouraged. “Get her to scream.”
The girl looked up in terror as her attacker didn’t have to be told twice. “It’s a deal,” he laughed, then slammed his hands on the girl’s tits. Before she could even recoil, he was pounding into her like a jackhammer.
“Wow,” said Swanson, holding up the phone as she came around for a better angle. “Look how big her eyes can get.”
“And look how tight I can make her screw them shut,” he growled as he twisted her breasts like combination locks.”
“God, can her lips get any wetter?” the woman wondered.
“Let’s see,” he grunted, lowering his head to seal her mouth with his own, his tongue smearing her juicy maw.
"Lord, look at those tits wiggle,” the woman marveled, focusing on the floundering of Claire’s legs as he continued to drill her. Swanson kneeled by the bed, the camera close to Claire’s head. The woman looked up at the rutting man. “Come on, Al, she’s just uh-uh-uh-ing.”
“Fuck you,” he seethed through clenched teeth.
“No,” she countered. “Fuck her.”
“I just wanted some morning sugar,” he complained, “not run a fucking marathon.”
“Then just do that,” she suggested. “That’s the best way to get it to work anyway.”
So he lay atop the Holden girl, grinding her tit, and pounded his meat inside her until he came.
As he dressed, Swanson stayed beside the eerily still, chillingly quiet, girl, gently caressing her forehead as Claire stared vacantly at the ceiling.
“Gotta do the morning deliveries,” he said. “Sorry about not making her scream.”
“Don’t worry,” Swanson said pleasantly. “The day is still young….” She looked down at the bound and gagged girl on the bed and smiled sweetly. Claire closed her eyes and turned her head away … tears rolling out from under her lids to course across her flushed cheeks and moisten the bed.
Al delivered donuts and coffee to the police station. Stopping by Ted’s desk, he asked, “Hey, that girl from the radio station, she ever show?”
Ted looked up, recognizing his friend’s voice. “No,” he answered. “It’s funny, tho’.”
That’s all it took for Ted to dish. “Questioned all her friends and teachers. Every one said she was cool. Not a wild girl at all.”
Al made a face of disbelief, clearly inferring that the friends and faculty were only being nice at best, circumspect at worst.
“Sure,” Ted responded. “Everybody knew how cute she was … okay, okay, how super cute she was … but they all said she was okay … not stuck up at all. But still….”
“Still what?” Al urged.
“When a girl disappears like that, nine times outta ten she’s a runaway, and lord knows her mother is worth getting some distance from, but otherwise she doesn’t match the profile. Not promiscuous, not a drinker, drugger, or smoker, no obvious signs of real rebellion….”
“Wanted to be a model-slash-actress, tho’,” Al reminded the cop. “And you know how those types can be….”
“Yeah, there’s that,” Ted agreed, “but usually they do that with parental support.”
“Well, you said yourself … that mother, huh?”
Ted snorted in recognition. “And, ‘tween you and me, having a daughter who looked like that has to be tough on any father….”
Their conversation was interrupted by the deliveryman’s cellphone.
TO BE CONTINUED