THE LIBRARY: Trying Out Part 24

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

“Are you nuts?” Al hissed as he slammed the door shut behind him. Swanson just continued to laugh as she bore Claire down with an expression that left no doubt in Al’s mind. Of course she was. But then he was distracted by the sweat-sheened skin, bulges, and curves of their little bundle of joy, as well as the way she struggled so prettily before him. “Get us out of here,” he croaked, reaching for Claire. “Quick, in case anybody saw anything….”

Then his hands were in Claire’s hair and against her left thigh, forcing her onto her back as Swanson scrambled to the driver’s seat. The girl threw her head back to bawl “no” over and over again as she kicked and twisted. But then the van was lurching from the curb and he fell on her with all his weight.

“How’s our little dolly doing?” he hoarsely whispered, pushing himself back up to take in her shapely legs, beautifully set off by the white thigh high stockings and white high heel pumps, her jiggling tits, battling with the severe neckline, and her agonized face, trying not to choke on her misery and dread.

“Happy to be leaving her family,” Dotty lied, watching for any sign of eyewitness as she drove to the stop sign at the end of the street.

Al stopped to survey Claire’s huge, wet, eyes over the tight, pressing straps encircling her head and the way her bubble boobs bounced with each sob. “She doesn’t look happy,” he expertly judged.

“Aw, that’s because she missed you,” Swanson sneered.

“Really?” Al asked the bound and gagged girl with exaggerated interest. “Is that true, snookums?” Claire kicked madly while renewing her attempts to scream.

“Better get this show on the road,” Al advised, pushing Claire’s legs wide as he fell back on the squealing, agonized girl. “We’ve got miles to go before she sleeps.”

“You think?” the teacher mused, then drove slowly around the neighborhood while Al raped Claire Holden on the floor of the van just behind her. She appreciated the flashes of white vinyl and pale skin in the corner of her eyes, but really reveled in the symphony of grunts, groans, gasps, squishes, and thuds of flesh on flesh that filled her ears.

The teacher conducted it with minute movements of her head as Claire’s “unhs” quickened and rose in anguish until they filled the van’s interior like the reports of a machine gun.

Suddenly her exhausted, sweat-covered face appeared alongside Dotty, her dew-dripping tits bobbling over the emergency brake – held there by Al’s clenched fist in her hair.

“Let me drive,” he grunted. “If I stay back here with her, I’ll just fuck her to death.”

Dotty pulled up at the next stop sign and quickly usurped Al’s hand in Claire’s hair. “Wouldn’t want that,” the teacher grimaced. “Then where would we be?” She quickly dragged the insensible girl to her back in the center of the van’s rear. “You don’t find bitches like this everyday.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the delivery man grumbled. “Just shut her up, okay?”

“Ok! Hand me my purse, would you?”


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