Robert Vickers - His daughter_s keeper

Now the pain of having the comet pressing so hard into the underside of her tits offset any sexy feeling she got from the clothing. Even the garter belt chaffed and irritated her waist. The slightest move made it cut into her belly and back.

She hurt all over. Worst of all was the isolation. She had no sense of time and didn't know if people came and stared down at her bound figure or not.

That was the worst of all – not knowing what they were doing to her. The way the man had come in and raped her made her consider, at first, that it was Mr. Strong. That was something he would have, gotten his nicks off doing. But, the more her frightened mind worked on the problem, the less sure she was that it had been Mr. Strong.

It would have amused the man to send in someone else to degrade her, abuse and rape her. He might have been so grossly ugly not even a prostitute would service him. Or he might have been scarred and rotting from leprosy. She shuddered in fear that she had been fucked by such a man.

Or it might have been nothing at all like that. Perhaps Clive had come in and fucked her. But why hadn't he spoken? Were there microphones in the room to listen in? And why had he stopped before she was fully sated? Had he heard Miss Olson coming and had to run?

A tiny click came to her straining ears. The door had opened. She was sure of it. A thrill of anticipation faced through her. She felt her body quiver in excitement at the idea of being allowed to get free from this distinctly uncomfortable position where her cunt was widely exposed to anyone walking into the room.

A soft shuffling noise indicated someone walking across the rug. Was it Mr. Strong? Or the silent rapist returning to finish the job? She almost hoped it was the latter. Her cunt began to drool in anticipation of finding a hard, long, hot cock fucking it again.

She called out, "Who is it? Please, take this bag off my head! I want to be able to see who's there!"

The bed squeaked slightly and bounced as extra weight was added to its surface. No word was spoken by the mysterious invader. Carole felt herself tensing for a blow. She expected Mr. Strong to use that riding crop on her tightly stretched thighs. The pain would rip through her brain and make her pass out, but at least she would know he was there.

No blow came. The riding crop didn't whistle and sting. The person on the bed inched closer.

Carole felt a hand stroking over her naked ass. She almost wished for the torn silk panties. This was intolerable. Someone was feeling her up and she didn't know who it was. It might be Clive, but she didn't think it was. He would have made some encouraging gesture, given her some sign if he couldn't have spoken out loud.

The hand ran over the warm flesh of her ass and then up the inside of her leg. The creamy white flesh flowed like liquid as the person pressed into it. Silken stocking came between hand and leg. Then Carole felt a rough, wet tongue pressing into her leg instead of the hand.

Through the stocking came the wetness of a pink, probing tongue. The eager tongue licked and worked on the back of her knee. Then it went up toward the head of the bed following the gentle surge of her calf. The action should have reassured her. It didn't. This was exciting her, but every time she felt excited and turned on, she was left unfulfilled. She didn't dare allow them to do that to her again. The horny feeling would drive her out of her mind sooner or later.

In spite of her intention not to become aroused, she found her heart racing. The way the tongue sought out the tiny spots on her leg that ached the most and soothed them made her think more might be in the offing. Her cunt sluggishly flowed, leaking its cunt juices from between the tightly pursed pussy lips.

"Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?" she demanded. The bed squeaking was her only answer. She was as much in the dark as she had been before. No matter what these people wanted to do to her, they could. She was their captive, at their mercy – and she was beginning to suspect they had no mercy lurking in their breasts at all.

The tongue worked its way around her leg until the silk stocking was drenched with saliva. The current of air from the air conditioner made her leg feel cool and detached. But her cunt was beginning to froth over with excitement. She knew what was going to happen soon.

Then a question popped into her mind she couldn't answer. Was this Mr. Strong? Or was it Miss Olson? She had no way of knowing if a man or a woman was responsible for licking down the length of her leg, savoring the feel of her soft flesh through the black stocking and then working on to her bound foot.

The mouth working on her leg abandoned it in favor of her foot. A juicy kiss was planted on the sole of her foot. Then a lewd sucking noise came and Carole felt her toes being engulfed by a hungry mouth. The person sucked hard on her toes. The girl wondered why the person was bothering – and then she found out.

There was something incredibly arousing about having the mouth working on her toes. The sucking made her toes curl up just as they had when she was being fucked. Some nerve reaction was held in common between her toes and her cunt. That hardly seemed right yet the girl was getting hotter and hotter as the person's mouth licked and sucked on her toes.

Another kiss. The mouth worked back along her other leg. She felt the rough tongue laying her calf, soothing it and stimulating her at the same time. By the time the person had come back to the top of her black stockings, Carole was moaning in constant arousal.

"Fuck me, fuck meeee!" she begged. She wasn't even sure if the person giving her such a lovely tongue lashing heard or not. The words might have been jumbled up due to rampaging emotions in her body. Or they might have been soaked up by the thick velvet bag around her head.

The tongue found the top edge of her stockings and refused to go past this paint to her cunt. The girl was writhing on the bed now, unable to move due to the bonds holding her so firmly. She wanted to lock her legs around the head of the person connected to that sweet, licking tongue. The strain on her legs due to the ropes holding her down was almost more than she could stand.

The rough, flicking pink tongue slipped under the edge of the silken stocking and tried driving down lower on the inside of the girl's thigh. The stimulation from this pushed Carole closer and closer to orgasm. She allowed the feelings to mount. She had to get off to take the deadly edge off her berserk desires.

Just as she was at the point of coming, the tongue vanished from her leg. Only a cool, wet spot remained to remind her that the driving tongue of exciting flesh had ever been touching her.

"You can't leave me! Don't do this to me!" she bellowed. She thrashed around trying to free herself. This time the chain fastened to the dog collar around her neck prevented her from getting off the bed. Someone had shortened that chain to make sure she couldn't possibly escape.

But the tongue returned, this time dragging slowly across the slightly raised dome of her belly. She felt the roughness across her smooth skin until it came to her belly button. The tongue flashed out and down into that deep depression. When the person began tongue fucking her navel, Carole got off.

It wasn't much of a climax, but it promised her that more would follow. She wouldn't be cheated this lime as she had beep before. She could explode in the wild release or orgasm just from a tongue in her navel. That thought both repulsed her and made her feel sexy. She needed that tongue down lower, though. In her cunt, where it could do her some real good.

"Please go lower! My poor little pussy needs your tongue! I need your tongue fucking my cunt!"

The person licking and sucking on the girl's navel didn't obey her. In fact, they didn't even seem to hear. The licking continued, but drifted lower with each circuit back and forth across the teenager's belly.