The delivery man the glorified sack to her, surprised at its weight. “What do you keep in that thing? Rocks?
“Better,” said Swanson, pulling plastic, metal, and leather from the top. “Don’t want our
spent little darling to mouth, or wander, off, do we?”
Al kept driving carefully while glancing in the rearview mirror to see Swanson carefully and solidly sealing Claire’s wet, pried-open lips with cloth tape around the prod deep in her widened mouth. The deliveryman admired how she covered the captive’s lower face completely and how thoroughly she smoothed the adhesive until it became an eighth layer of skin.
Then the teacher turned her attention to Claire’s lax, lovely, legs. Within moments she had pull-tied each ankle to each thigh, letting those limbs open naturally as the poor girl lay on her back, the top of her head facing the rear doors.
Her cum-coated cunt seemed to fill the rearview mirror as Claire laid, splayed, on the padded floor.
Al wrenched the wheel left as he nearly sent the van onto the curb. He concentrated on his driving until he reached the interstate, then finally hazarded another look into the van’s rear.
Claire Holden lay, mouth filled, lips taped, her wrists secured under the small of her back, her legs bent and wide, her knees fixed, wide, to hooks in the van’s side wall.
Her sex was no longer yawning in Al’s face. Instead it was filled with a big, battery-run dildo Dotty was holding there. Al could see his partner in perversion had set it to its optimum power – the high tech vibrator warming, whirring, throbbing, thrusting, and twisting inside the innocent girl just below the hem of the mnicrominidress.
To complete the package, Dotty had affixed nipple clamps to their captive’s exceptional, exposed breasts, and, even as Al watched, was tenderly, expertly, stimulating Claire’s clit as the mewling beauty helplessly jerked in place.
“Take the wheel,” Al croaked, glancing to make sure he didn’t crash.
“Oh no,” Dotty disagreed, not pausing a second in her cruel ministrations. “The poor darling needs some release after all your attention,” she mocked. “Besides, you need to rebuild your reserves. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.” Al realized the logic of it as Swanson returned her venal attentions to the girl. “
Don’t we snookums?” she cooed as she forced the dildo in even further and pinched Claire’s clit even harder. “Yes, we do, oh yes we do…!”
The beautiful little girl tried to scream with all her might, her back arching, every muscle straining as her kidnapper forced the orgasm on her. “That’s a good girl. That’s my sweet little snookums…!”
When Claire Holden came, the van nearly lost a lane.
The late night deskman couldn’t take his eyes off the couple’s daughter. Despite the late night, the lobby’s dim lighting, the rain pouring outside, as well as the sunglasses and surgical mask covering her face, she still seemed wonderfully out of place in such a threadbare, isolated motel.
Her lustrous brown hair glowed in pigtails that slipped out on either side of the duffle coat’s up-raised hood. In the opening in the front of the duffle coat he saw a form-fitting grey v-neck sweater, a white shirt’s peter pan collar, a black and white plaid tartan pleaded skirt, white knee socks, and shiny black flat shoes.
She plunked down and sat sullenly on the old, fifties-style orange sofa on the far side of the small rectangular room that served as the lobby.
Her mom came over to stand next to her dad as he finished checking in.
TO BE CONTINUED