Author Unknown: Glenda gets hers

Moose and Bob exchanged greedy glances, licking their lips.

"You sure about this, man?" Bob said slowly.

"Get her, I said!" Hank thundered.

The car doors swung open and two muscle-bound brutes sprang out, like pouncing jungle animals. As Glenda prepared to cross the street and hail a cab, powerful hands grabbed her on both sides. She uttered a startled cry as she was bodily lifted in the air and carried roughly over to Hank Rigorettino's car.

"L-Let me go! What are you doing?!" Glenda gasped in shock, trying to struggle.

She grunted as she was forced roughly into the back seat of the convertible, sandwiched between Bob Smith and Moose Northrop. Hank stepped on the accelerator and the car went screeching off down the road like a bat out of hell.

"Hank! Stop this car this minute!" Glenda cried, leaning forward. "Hank! You're drunk! Please! Let me out of here!"

Her voice was starting to tremble a little as tingles of trepidation crept through her veins. Her heart was starting to hammer rapidly. There was a seething aura of primitive masculine lust in the car which overwhelmed her. She felt, for a wild moment, like a rabbit cornered by hungry, slavering wolves…

"HANK!" Glenda shrieked hysterically. "STOP THE CAR! I'll scream! I'll… I'll tell the police! You've gone too far!"

"No, bitch! You've gone too far!" Hank snarled savagely over his shoulder. "Clam the cow up, boys! We wanna fuck her, not listen to her!"

"Oh, my GOD! You're not going to…mmmfffgggh!!" Glenda started to babble, but her words were suddenly stifled as Bob Smith clamped a huge black paw over her lower face.

Grinning drunkenly, Moose Northrop pulled off one of his smelly, sweaty socks. Bob Smith forced the squealing, struggling girl's jaws open and his buddy crammed the cruddy sock roughly in her mouth, securely gagging her.

"Don't move, bitch, or you're gonna get your pretty face smacked up!" Moose snarled hoarsely, and from the look in his narrowed brown eyes, Glenda knew this was no idle threat.

She gurgled and whimpered gagging on the sock which filled her mouth, trembling as she sat there, a prisoner of three muscle bound, drunken studs. Through the haze of fear which clouded her senses, Glenda Farrell was starting to feel again that little thrill of forbidden excitement. It crept up her body, spreading from her moist loins to her tits to her brain, setting her nerve endings on fire…

"Bring her over here, guys!" Hank Rigorettino hollered, gesturing with his hand as Moose and Bob hauled the struggling red-head out of the car.

Hank had parked in an empty lot next to an abandoned warehouse. The cool glare of a flickering lamp illuminated the expanse of crumbling concrete and rusty metal.

Hank had found some old, dirty coils of thick hemp rope on the ground. He had the rope in his big hands, a wicked grin on his flushed face, and a bulge in his pants as Moose and Bob roughly shoved Glenda forward.

Glenda groaned falling to her knees on the ground in front of her enraged boyfriend. Her head was spinning. She could hardly breathe with that disgusting sock in her mouth.

She gurgled feebly as Moose dragged her arms behind her back. Hank stooped down and swiftly lashed her wrists together, cinching the rope tight. Glenda's eyes snapped open and she felt a wild surge of mingled fear and excitement. She was being bound!

Helplessness filled her like a strange, frightening drug. God! What would these horrible brutes do to her? She was utterly defenseless! And her pussy was throbbing wetly in her tight pink panties…

She felt dizzy, paralyzed, suspended in a giddy, terrifying void. Dimly, she felt strong hands pull her legs apart. Dimly, she felt ropes being tied to her ankles, securing her dainty little feet to iron poles in the cement.

Her hands were tied painfully behind her back. Her spread-eagled legs were tied tightly to iron poles. Her mouth was stuffed full with Moose's sweaty sock… Wildly, Glenda Farrell swung her frightened hazel eyes from one brute to the other, pleading with them wordlessly, making little choked whimpering sounds.

"Bob, get out your blade and cut the clothes off the bitch!" Hank ordered huskily.

Bob grinned. It was not a pleasant grin, twisting his dark features grotesquely, displaying big, greedy white teeth.

The muscular Negro whipped out his switchblade, and it gleamed malevolently in the air as he straddled the terrified girl and slid the knife into her cleavage, between the dress and her skin. He ripped upward, and the blade neatly slit through her thin dress, slicing slowly downward. A few more well-placed strokes of the knife, and the dress came away in blue shreds.

"Look at those big fucking tits, man!" Moose Northrop growled hoarsely, rubbing his crotch. "Damn! Gets me real hot!"

Glenda's full, creamy boobs swayed lusciously in the light as the bound beauty squirmed and whimpered fearfully. Her tits were enormous, firm yet bouncy, with sand dollar sized nipples rosy as cherries.

Bob Smith was panting hoarsely as he crawled between Glenda's splayed gams. Glenda's pink, frilly panties formed a sexy triangle, cupping the moist hill of her sweet twat.

She shuddered as Bob sliced her panties right off of her. Yet she also felt a degenerate thrill as she lay there, naked and bound, at the mercy of those animalistic studs.

"How does that feel, bitch?" Hank Rigorettino drawled jeeringly as he straddled Glenda's prone body, his feet planted on the cement on either side of her waist. "You ain't gonna do much jabbering and fussing now, slut! You're gonna learn your place, baby!"

He squatted, rapidly untying his shoelaces, drawing them out. There was a peculiar gleam in Hank's blue eyes which Glenda did not particularly like.

He grinned at her, snapping one of the laces in the air before her frightened hazel eyes. He wrapped the lace around one of her swelling boobs and began to cinch it, drawing it tighter and tighter around the pillowy globe of flesh.

Glenda gurgled and wriggled feebly as pain shot through her jutting titty. She knew her trials and tribulations had just begun…

Even though she was scared shitless, Glenda Farrell was burning up with erotic heat. The blood pounding through her veins seemed charged with electricity. Desire, helpless and wild, seared and tingled between her legs.

She lay there, on an uncomfortable bed of cement, in a deserted lot, completely at the mercy of three brutal drunken animals. The ropes binding her wrists together and clamping her ankles to steel posts were tight, chafing her tender skin painfully.

Hank Rigorettino's shoelaces were cinched savagely around her torpedo-like knockers, biting harshly into the resilient globes, making them bloat outward like water balloons almost ready to explode. But this tit-bondage inspired pleasure as well as pain. Dark, primitive pleasure which scorched her nipples, making them pucker and bloat, sticking away from her knockers like tiny peckers.

"OK, guys, let's go for it!" Hank panted huskily as they stared down at the helplessly roped red-head.

Hank, Moose and Bob began to strip, tearing off their shirts and shoes and trousers, grunting with bestial impatience. In a few moments, they towered above Glenda, buck naked, surrounding her, looming like sensual monsters before her startled hazel eyes.

Hank nodded mutely to his king-sized buddies, and Moose and Bob dropped to the ground, panting hoarsely. They were big sons of bitches, big everywhere.

Moose's beefy, hulking physique was covered with thick ringlets of dark hair. His enormous ramrod jerked arrogantly in mid-air, eleven inches of wrist-thick flesh and gristle, leaking a clear bead of pre-come.

Bob's hard-muscled, six foot four, two hundred and seventy pound bod was black as ebony, gleaming with a fine sheen of sweat like polished lacquer. His bull-meat was a solid twelve inches long and just as fat as Moose's.