Claire feverishly kicked out, hunching. But the teacher just yanked brutally back, sweeping Holden’s ankles out from under her.
Suddenly they were both scrambling on the floor, the girl trying to scream for all she was worth as one of Swanson’s hands found Claire’s stuffed mouth. “This is all her fault,” the teacher hissed into the kidnapped girl’s ear.
“If she hadn’t brought you to that audition…!” She took a second to finger the girl’s cunt lips. “…none of this would’ve happened!” She punctuated the absurdity with a flick of her fingernail, making the captive girl recoil. “Oh,” said Mrs. Holden at the front door of the house. “Yes, I suppose….” She reached out toward the picture of her daughter, then stopped. “No,” she decided. “You keep it. Just in case you need it when you get back….”
Clare desperately tried to escape from Swanson’s grip, her neck twisting, her jaw opening as wide as she could make it.
“Oh no, no, no,” the teacher chuckled, gripping the girl’s mouth even tighter and hooking her forefinger even deeper. “This is what you get.”
“No, really, that’s okay,” the deliveryman said to the Holden woman, thinking about all the other pictures he had in his pocket….
…a strappadoed Claire Holden in a crotchless, cupless leather catsuit, her head in a pear-gagged hood, her arms in a lace-up single glove, balancing on tip-toe as he rammed into her from the rear.
…Claire Holden in a torn, abbreviated, two-piece cheerleader’s outfit, on the bed, impaled, kneeling on his erection, her head in a ball-gag harness, her wrists cuffed behind her.
…Claire Holden in the garage.
Howling and writhing, wearing a ludicrously sexy sailor suit, her breasts bouncing out of its severe blue-trimmed, white v-neck, her thighs peek-a-booing from its hip-hugging, frilly blue micro-miniskirt, and her feet pointing in the white knee socks and shiny penny loafers, as they wrenched one arm up her back and clamped her mouth shut and Al’s cock opened her labia lips….
“…I won’t forget her,” Al promised.
“Oh,” said Mrs. Holden. “All right then.” And she took the photo back.
“Okay, okay,” the Swanson woman complained upon seeing the delivery man start walking back. “You still have a chance. C’mon baby, go for it! Before your sweet mama closes the door…!”
Claire wrenched upward and kicked out with all her might – stunned to find herself propelled forward, shot at the van’s back doors like a missile. Using all her remaining strength and all her dancer’s training, she found her feet under her and her shoulder unerringly aimed at where the doors met.
Then the door opened and she erupted out into the street, landing in a surprised deliveryman’s arms.
“Holy shit!’ Al blurted, immediately squeezing the writhing, screeching, nearly exposed bundle of girl in a bear-hug. He literally threw the bound and gagged girl back into the van as a laughing teacher caught and collected the agitatedly kicking sweetheart, dragging her back to the floor.
TO BE CONTINUED