Robert Vickers - Chained cheerleader

Limp cock and the man's burning desire to degrade both of them.

He stood, his prick flopping loosely in front of his crotch. He said slowly, "I think I'll rearrange you. Yeah, that would be real nice!"

He unfastened the locks on their chains and swiftly moved to rechain them in a different position. Sherry was pulled spread-eagle between the goalposts. He began using the dildo on her pussy, twisting and spinning it until Debbie thought he was going to shove the eighteen inch artificial cock all the way up her pussy until it vanished.

Debbie's sex fogged brain cleared slowly. She realized that Bradford wasn't paying her any attention now. He had simply chained her hands behind her, looped some chain around an ankle and fastened it all to her neck. She couldn't run without choking herself to death.

But she saw the gleam of brass on the ground. Hope flared. She rolled over and over until she could see the piece of metal close up. A key! The key to her locks! She managed to get the key between her fingers, and after dropping it many heartbreaking times, get it into the lock, a simple turn and the lock opened. It took her a few more minutes to unwrap from the lengths of chain Bradford had bound her with and then she was free.

Free! But to do what? She couldn't possibly tackle Bradford. She was too weak, too sore and aching in muscle and mind, to attack him. Even swinging a length of the chain she couldn't hope to stop him from raping Sherry. Sherry had made the mistake of thinking she could reason with that animal; Debbie wasn't even going to try. Learning from her friend's mistake, the blonde cheerleader turned and ran. She didn't know where she was going and she didn't care. She just knew that she had to get away from the evil scene on the playing field. The deserted concrete corridors under the stadium had never looked more inviting to her as she raced into them, her boots clicking wildly and echoing.

Debbie felt every muscle in her young body protest as she ran. Her tortured tits bounced painfully, jiggling up and down. Never had she wished more for smaller jugs. Hr bruised flesh gleamed ugly and forbidding in the dim light. But she ran on. Even though her cunt hurt and her ass felt like it might fall off, she ran and ran and ran.

And ran into the arms of a tall, dark man walking out from one of the team offices. "God in heaven, what's this?" he exclaimed. "Do you always run around here mother naked?"

The man held her at arm's length, his eyes raking over the lithesome form. He stared at the way her tits had been bruised. He reached out a surprisingly gentle hand and stroked one of her cones of titflesh, as if testing it for temperature. His hand pressed in until she winced, then took hold of the tiny button at the very crest.

He rolled the nipple between his fingers until she moaned lightly and closed her eyes. The sensations lancing into her chest were nice. This was the way a man was supposed to handle her tits. Not the way Bradford had done, but this way!

"Ummm, that's so good. But please, I have to get away!" The man didn't answer. His hand moved to her waist. He traced the outline left by the chain which had held Debbie firmly to Sherry while Bradford butt fucked her. The man's exploring hand drifted lower, across her corn-silk blonde bush. The matted and tangled pussy fur parted for his fingers. She felt her legs opening wantonly as he stroked her puffy cunt lips. She sobbed and bit her lower lip as he found every single sore spot.

"Who are you?" he finally asked. While she tried to think of an answer, he continued to explore her body. He found her whipped ass and his fingers worked down into the humid canyon between her meaty asscheeks. She couldn't stand that, not after being raped up the ass so many times.

"God, no, not there!" she cried. "He raped me there. I… I don't ever want another man fucking me up the ass!"

The dark stranger hanging onto her arm didn't seem the least bit surprised at her outburst. He had even accepted her nakedness as if it were a common occurrence.

"Answer me," he said. "Who are you?"

"I… I'm Debbie, one of the cheerleaders. H-he did this to me!"

"He? You mean Bradford? My general manager did this to one of my cheerleaders? Answer me!" The man shook her until her teeth rattled. It was exactly the shock she needed to come to her senses. Panic fled finally, and she calmed down a little.

The girl started to consider what the man had said. "His" team? "His" cheerleaders? Who was he?

"Yes! Bradford! He did this to me and he's out on the field, fucking a friend of mine with a dildo until he can get his hard-on back. The then he'll p-probably rape her up the ass, too!"

"You escaped and you ran in here like this." The man stated it, he didn't ask. He shook his head slowly as if finally understanding a complex problem. "So that cocksucker didn't believe me, huh?"

"What's happening?" Debbie asked. "Who the fuck are you?" She would have recoiled in horror at such coarse language a few days before. She had been changed mightily by the events of this evening.

"I'm Nichols, the owner of the team. And I warned Bradford about fucking around with the cheerleaders. We had a big mess with one little redhead about six months back. We hushed it up and he promised not to do it again."

Nichols' eyes drifted down to the matted pussy fleece covering Debbie's snatch.

"I see he lied to me."

"He… he's out on the field raping my friend. She's a cheerleader, too. Sherry!"

"Don't worry I know her boyfriend, Ben. He's one of the star players on the team. Come with me."

Nichols turned and walked into the office. He snapped on the light switch. And picked up a phone. He dialed and smiled just a little, grim and determined, while he waited for someone to answer. Finally, he said, "Ben? Mr. Nichols. Yeah, sure. Look, you better get over here. Bradford's raping your girl. Hell, I don't care what you do to him. Bradford doesn't work for me any longer… Just don't kill the son of a bitch. I don't want you in jail."

Nichols hung up the phone with a decisive click. "That takes care of our Mr. Bradford, once and for all. But what about you?"

Debbie didn't know what be meant for a minute. Then it hit her. She could sue the team. She could make millions off this. But something about the way the man spoke told her that wasn't the best course of action. She could get more in the long run by going along with him.

"I… I joined the cheerleaders for exposure. This wasn't the type of exposure I meant."

"I know," he said tiredly. "You thought about hitting the movies, the big time in television. Some producer would discover you and you'd be on easy street for the rest of your life."

She admitted she had thought that.

"It doesn't happen, doll. Never." His eyes worked over her bruised and battered body. She felt suddenly naked in front of him. He was looking at her more as a desirable woman now than a battered remnant of a berserk man's lust.

"You're saying I could do better some other way?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying. Look, you're gorgeous. Hell, I can see real beauty no matter how dirtied up it is. You're pretty. And you're smart. You picked up on what I'm saying right away. I dig you. Together we can go places and do things you never could on your own."

"What if I just want out? What if I just want money?"

She felt herself becoming strangely aroused by this man. His whole demeanor was one of total command. She didn't feel the way she had felt with Bradford. She wanted to obey when Nichols spoke. And she knew then from the melting feeling inside her cunt that she would do whatever he wanted.

He was the dominant one, he commanded and she was nothing more than a slave for him.

"You don't," he said.