J Bradley: Wife in bondage

She heard Stan's low chuckle and knew he was staring right at her reddened, sperm-drenched cunt. He yanked her to her feet. She reached for the blindfold, and he yanked her hand cruelly, twisting her arm high up behind her back, making her spin around in a small circle with a cry of pain.

"Leave the blindfold alone, Mrs. Chidsey," Stan grated in her ear. She could hear the evil grin come through his voice. She felt his breath on her cheek and ear.

"Oh, oh, please!" she squeaked. "You're hurting my arm!"

"That's so you understand better, Mrs. Chidsey. You leave the blindfold alone. You don't need to see where you are. And it'll be a whole lot healthier for you if you don't try to get a look at us, either. You understand how it works, Mrs. Chidsey?"

When she didn't respond right away, he yanked at her arm again, pushing up, making her go to her toes. "Yes!" she cried, her spine arching, her tits thrusting.

"That's better, Mrs. Chidsey. You answer when I ask a question. You tell me everything I want to know, maybe a little more than what I want to know. That way, we'll get along just fine. You understand now?"

"Yes!" she said quickly.

"My, it's wonderful," he said, "how quickly a woman of position and money can catch on to things. If your husband is just as quick, you'll be back home in no time. Meanwhile, you're going to stay right here with us, just like a rich, important guest. You'll like that, won't you?"

His grin was nasty and twisted. She didn't have to see it. She heard it in his voice, in the rasping snarl spoken with such deceitful softness. And in the way he gave her arm still another painful twist.

Strangely, through it all, she was aware of the shrill background din of crickets and cicadas, the croak of frogs. They could have been driving her in circles earlier, trying to confuse her, but the odors and sounds of the country told her they hadn't. It had to be a farm or an isolated cabin of some kind.

He twisted again. "Yes!" she yipped. "I'll like it!"

He laughed softly. "Of course, you won't be like just any guest. We'll have to keep you tied up and blindfolded. Unless you promise you won't try to escape. You won't try that, will you, Mrs. Chidsey?"

"No I won't. I promise I won't. Oh, God, don't do that to me. I'll cooperate in any way you want me to, I promise!"

"Such bullshit," he laughed. He hauled her back against him roughly and growled in her ear. "I don't like lying bitches. Especially when they're pretty and built, you hear me!"

He clamped his hand over her thrusting tits and rolled them thoroughly over her chest. Then his hand swept down her flat stomach to her crotch and grabbed her pussy hard, mauling it.

Ellen gasped and cried out with the indignity of it. She was beginning to realize just how helpless and vulnerable she was right now.

She'd thought that Cy's raping of her while she was on his lap was just a brutalization – a grab of opportunity that wouldn't be repeated when she was taken to the final destination.

For some reason, she wouldn't let herself believe that his blowing, hosing cock would be a prelude of what was to come. She'd thought the others would treat her in a civilized way. The trouble was, she had no idea why they'd kidnapped her. It could be just that they wanted another woman to fuck – a hole for Cy's massive cock. The thought sent sudden chills down her spine.

"Ohhhhh, don't," she cried helplessly, feeling Stan shake her cunt harshly.

She leaned over at the waist in an effort to remove her pussy from his hand. Her firm buttocks pressed against his middle, and she could feel the hardening shaft of his cock through his pants.

He struggled with her a moment and then helped her bend over – far over. His hand shifted. She felt her skirt come up over her naked butt.

Her legs were braced apart. Her hair dragged on the ground. His hand swept over her naked cheeks and spread them lewdly. His finger slid with a degrading touch along her deep ass-crack.

It rimmed her puckered asshole and made her groan with shame and indignity. He went under her crotch to her pussy and fucked his finger into her vagina, swirling it around.

"Oh, God!" she gasped.

He drew his finger out. It was sopping wet with juice. He smeared the syrup around her asshole until the little mouth pulsed obscenely from the stimulation. Then he shoved his finger into her butt to his palm.

"Ahhhhhh, don't!" she screamed at the ground. Blood pounded in her temples as he rested his weight against her back and kept her arm twisted behind her at the same time.

He wriggled his finger in her ass, making it writhe and twist. She'd never felt so humiliated and outraged in her life – not even at the worst point in her life.

Being raped by a moron with a big prick was one thing. It was something dreaded when you realized you were kidnapped, but yet more or less expected.

Having a finger shoved up your ass for cruelty and spite was something else. One happened from passion. The other was from meanness, and the suddenness of it terrified her.

"Stan? Honey, what are you doing with her out there?" Velma's voice came from the house.

Astonishingly, Ellen heard a new quality in the voice. It was something bordering on jealousy. Stan shook his finger in her asshole and palmed her round, taut cheeks at the same time.

"I'm feeling her ass," he snarled back. "Not bad for an old bitch. Nice and tight up her butt. And I think maybe Cy was right – she likes it. Her asshole is sucking at my finger like it was hungry for a big sausage and a drink of hot cream."

He cackled and yanked his finger from her asshole, pulling the tender tissues outward painfully. He wiped his finger on the firm roundness of her cheek and then pulled her erect again, breathing degradingly in her ear.

"You liked that, didn't you, Mrs. Chidsey? Yeah, with a tight asshole like that and a sopping cunt and big tits, you must give your husband a hell of a good time in bed. He's gonna miss all those goodies plenty, isn't that right?"

"Ohhhhh, please," Ellen moaned, her anus spasming and burning from the rough treatment, her emotions whirling from the realization of just how utterly helpless she was.

"Ol' Burke's gonna pay plenty to get a hot, good-looking fuck like you back, isn't he? He'd better, Mrs. Chidsey, or we're gonna keep you around for a long, long time."

She gasped and turned her head as if to look at him. So that was it! They were going to ransom her! But how had they known her car would break down after the fashion show and that she would go to Burke's store on the chance he might be there still taking inventory? Unless… unless they'd fixed the car…

"How about it, baby?" Stan questioned roughly, interrupting her thought. "How much do you think you're worth to him, huh? Lots?"

"Yes, yes, lots," Ellen gasped.

She bit her lower lip. She shouldn't have said that. Arid yet, if she'd said she was worth nothing to Burke, that he wouldn't pay them a dime, Stan would have twisted her arm off at the socket for lying.

"He'd better, Mrs. Chidsey. He'd better, or I'm gonna have to just give you to Cy for a fuck hole. I don't like the way he keeps looking at Velma, you know? It's like with a small kid – you give him a cheap toy to keep his mind off all the knobs and buttons on your expensive stereo, know what I mean?"

"Oh, God!" she gasped.

Stan cackled at her quick breathing, the rasp or tenor in her throat. "What's your first name, baby! Mrs. Chidsey seems so stuffy to call a guest who's going to be on such intimate terms with us. Stella, is it?"

"Ellen," she said, stumbling over the uneven ground as he pushed her up a slight incline toward the house.

"Ellen, yeah, that fits. A nice, plain, classy kind of name! No frills! Classic, almost. Like Helen – that Greek broad, you know? The one that launched a thousand ships to come get her? That's what you're gonna do, only it won't be ships. It'll be bucks."