The keeper - illustrated bondage story, part 33

Instead, she felt it. She had felt the titfuck, but only in a purely physical way. It was not stimulating her the way it stimulated him. Only now, there was a new ingredient in her torment. There was something else involved. A tongue. A quick, wet, expertly manipulated tongue.

Dana began to vibrate on the tabletop, her eyes wide and unseeing. From behind the dishcloth came a rapid-fre uh-ing sound. Then suddenly she tensed, screaming, stretching as much as she could, all her tendons sticking out and her entire body suddenly covered in perspiration.

Still, it didn’t stop. He kept rutting, her legs were still being pushed wide, and the tongue kept licking and pushing and probing.

Dana screamed again and again and again, twisting and kicking for all she was worth, but the table remained anchored, and so did she. She stiffened again, goose bumps raging across her form. Then she jerked again, screaming.

He merely slapped the sides of her tits and kept thrusting. The tongue kept ficking. Dana blinked in unison with it, twisting her head on her upper arms, mewing.

She jerked and gasped. She screamed, her chin up, the sound swallowed by the dishrag.

Finally he stopped slapping her tits. Now he grabbed them tightly, pushed them together as hard as he could, and leaned in. Dana cried out in pain, fnally feeling the long, hard cock tearing across her skin.

The tongue immediately stopped, and the dishtowel was pulled out of her mouth. She tried to take advantage of both to scream again, but then he started rutting as fast and as hard as he could, shaking her on the tabletop.

Her scream became a confused, vibrating yodel as he groaned and gnashed his teeth, his sweat dropping on her face.

The beads of perspiration made her blink. She found herself staring at the very tip of his cock, just inches away from her face. She couldn’t see it clearly, but she could actually feel it throbbing on the sides of her breasts.

She suddenly pulled herself off the table as far as she could and started to shout, but then the penis spurted, the cum splattering her face and going into her mouth.

She made a horrible noise of revulsion and tried to twist her head away, but she couldn’t. He sat up, letting the ejaculation spray her neck, chest, and cleavage. It mingled with the cream and honey to make an awful glue. He laughed, shaking her with his hips, and rubbed the mixture into her chest and across her manhandled breasts.

That’s when the doorbell rang. Before Dana was even sure of what she heard, he had hopped off her torso and pressed one hand deep into her solar plexus. She grunted, losing her air, her eyes bulging. He was already off her, pulling up his pants.

His mother immediately grabbed Dana’s hair, yanked her head up, and cut the ropes at her elbows. Dana’s head thudded on the table as her arms sprung wide.

Without pause, the old woman grabbed the girl’s elbows. pulled her back, and forced her head off the edge of the table.

Once Dana was looking backwards, at the front window shades, the old woman stuffed the dishtowel back deeply into her mouth. He went to answer the door as the woman started twisting Dana’s silky soft hair around her fngers.

He glanced at Melissa, who sat still and quiet, her hooded head against the chair cushion. He thought about turning up the television, but thought better of it. It was at a perfect volume. Then he answered the door, careful not to let whoever it was see too far inside. It was Mr. Scott from next door. He and the missus were back from their vacation, and wanted to thank his mother for her consideration.

He was going to pass on the word with thanks, but then the old woman was at his side. “You go fnish up now, dear, she told her son. “It’s all ready now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Mr. Scott. “Was I interrupting your dinner?”

“It’s nothing,” she assured him. “Just a little dessert.” She looked back at her son, glancing at an oblivious Melissa over his shoulder. “You just take care of it, won’t you dear?”

“Certainly, mother,” he said, and went around the corner to the living room while his mother and Mr. Scott talked about how respectful and polite he was. Dana’s head was still over the table edge, as were her lower arms. He looked under the table lip, seeing that his mother had twisted the young woman’s hair into a tight ponytail and tied that to the knots around her wrists. It stretched her legs so she could hardly kick, raising her chemise hem to her slim waist, exposing her cunt for all to see.

He had to make a quick choice. He chose the right, walking over to stand in front of her head. He undid his pants and let them fall to the foor. He pulled out the dishtowel, and inserted his still slightly stiffened penis into her open mouth.

Dana tried to scream, but his dick was always in the way. Her tongue lolled all over it. She tried to pull her head away, but the pain at her scalp was too great. She tried to scratch or hit or kick or make enough noise to drown out the TV, but Mr. Scott just kept talking while he pushed his cock deeper into her mouth and absentmindedly kneaded her abused tits while listening intently for any sign of trouble.