Robert Vickers: His daughter_s keeper

The ride in the fancy car left Carole feeling as if she could lick the world. She was bunting with curiosity but she kept her mouth closed. Miss Olson had regained consciousness and thrashed around in the back of the car. Wherever they were going, they would get there sooner or later. She could tell then and satisfy her curiosity.

Clive pointed to a truck stop on the highway. They pulled in. Carole knew they didn't need gasoline since the car was always fully fueled. Mr. Strong demanded that as long as the car was parked in the garage.

The massive car sidled up next to an eighteen wheeler and Clive got out, beckoning to the driver of the truck. They talked for a few minutes, then Carole watched money change hands. She couldn't tell how much but it was a thick sheaf. Clive put the money in his pocket and pointed to the back seat where Miss Olson still struggled against the handcuffs.

The trucker opened the door and said, "Well, shit, this is about the prettiest little filly I've seen in years. Damned right, she's worth the money."

Clive made an obscene gesture and the trucker laughed. "Well now, I guess it wouldn't damage the merchandise none if I knocked a teeny piece off, would it?" Seeing Clive's returning smile, the trucker hoisted the bound Miss Olson and dumper her into the empty back of his trailer rig.

Clive quietly spoke to Carole. "Let's watch for a while. I think it might be interesting."

Carole got out and stood near Clive, both of them peering into the empty truck. The trucker had already skinned off Miss Olson's panties and had hiked her skirt up around her waist.

"Now that's a damned fine cunt, lady. A right fine one. And this old pal of mine's gonna have a lot of fun fucking it!"

Carole whispered to Clive, "I think this is going to get interesting. Do you think he'll mind if we watch?"

Clive shook his head and moved closer to Carole. She sighed deeply when his hand pressed close to her pussy. In a few seconds he had worked his hand down to the point where he could easily slide his finger in and out of her cunt. It was already greased and waiting for him. Her only regret was that he couldn't fuck her while they watched the trucker rape Miss Olson.

"Quit struggling, lady," the trucker said. "This is gonna be the best Goddamn fuck of your life." He dropped to press his weight onto her body. He maneuvered a little and avoided her kicking legs. By the time he stopped, he was firmly lodged between her thighs, his prick aiming directly for her pussy.

The woman was screaming but was finding out the muffling effect of the thick velvet bag. Carole smiled broadly, both at the finger driving in and out of her cunt and the predicament the other woman found herself in. This was justice.

"Here it comes, ready or not!" the trucker laughed as his hips pistoned forward. Carole saw the knobby end of his prick spear directly into the quivery pussy lips of the woman's cunt. The woman screamed louder, but there wasn't anything she could do. With her hands fastened securely behind her back, she was virtually helpless. The man's prick buried itself all the way to his balls.

"Damn, that feels good. Best cunt I've had round my cock in ages," he moaned out. "Now to get to it."

He began fucking her with long, powerful strokes. Each one visibly shook the woman as it hammered into her cunt. Carole sucked in her breath, feeling each and every stroke of the man's prick as if it were fucking her cunt. But all she had fucking her pussy was dye's agile finger. It sought out each and every place that would give her the most thrill. She sighed and leaned heavily against his strong shoulder. This was more like it. Him finger fucking her and she could see the full rape of the woman she hated so much.

There was a lewd squishing noise as the man drove his cock even harder into the woman's now juicy cunt. The way his fuck stick drove in, Carole wondered if he might not be bruising the woman's tender prissy lips. She hoped so. The woman deserved everything she was getting. Carole hadn't forgotten the beating or the way she'd been forced to eat the woman's pussy or the other abuse she had accepted from Miss Olson. If she could get her own rocks off watching the rape, well and good.

"More, Clive," she hotly whispered in his ear. She no longer cared if Miss Olson heard or not, but this was sexier, and she was feeling really hot by now. He added another finger into her gooey twat and she thought she would pass out from the pleasure of it.

His fingers dipped deeper and deeper into her cunt with each stroke. When he saw how closely she watched the trucker fucking Miss Olson, he changed his tempo to match that of the other man. This allowed Carole to experience the full effect of both fuckings.

She was soon gasping for air, barely able to contain herself. The way her passions were being drawn out, she didn't know how much her body could take. She had become intensely horny – all the time. This was a little bit that would take some of the edge off her need. But not much. Finger fucking was okay but her cunt demanded a hard, virile prick.

The girl knew she would get it before they got back to the mansion. Clive's cock was pressing hard against his trousers as he watched the trucker fucking Miss Olson. Carole didn't think she would have any trouble at all persuading him to stop beside the road for a little piece of ass.

"Stop this!" she heard Miss Olson scream. The words seemed to incite the man fucking her to work even harder at driving his cock all the way up to her tonsils. "Don't!"

But he did. And she responded eventually. She caught her breath, gasped, then vented a loud cry of orgasm. The man kept fucking the entire while, even though the sweat popped out on his forehead and he was obviously having a hard time controlling himself. Finally, he arched his back, slammed his cock to the hilt into the woman's lewdly gaping cunt, and came.

Clive's finger in Carole's twat bent slightly. She moaned softly, then felt his finger begin to press her backwards. Realizing that he intended for them to leave now, she reluctantly allowed him to guide her away. She would have enjoyed sticking around and seeing what else the man had in store for Miss Olson.

But the woman had been sold. That was all they needed to go back and tell Mr. Strong that Miss Olson had left town and wouldn't back. Even if the woman escaped and worked up the nerve to return, Mr. Strong would never take her back. He didn't like people walking out, on him.

Carole softly cried out when Clive's finger pushed her over the brink of orgasm.

"You'll like it here, at Mr. Strong's mansion," Clive told the frightened dark-haired girl. "You have nothing to be afraid of. He's peculiar in some ways but not evil."

"Who the hell are you? And who is this Mr. Strong? I was hitchhiking and this guy kidnaps me. You can't keep me here! It's against the law."

"The law?" mused Clive. "That is something of a joke these days, don't you agree? Lenient judges, crooked lawyers, justice only for those who have the money to purchase it. I would suggest that you simply try to enjoy your stay here. Mr. Strong can make it most enjoyable – or miserable!"

"Let me loose!" the girl flared.

Clive ripped her blouse off as he told her, "Mr. Strong has very distinct tastes in how his women dress. You are to be dressed in this wedding gown. All white. With the appropriate under garments."

The girl fought but Clive was too strong for her. He stripped her bare ass naked and then began to redress her in the while stockings and frilly garter belt. He didn't bother with a corset. It wouldn't be needed. Not for a bride. Then he put on the silken white dress. This seemed to calm the girl a little bit as she looked down at the finery.

"But why? Why are you dressing me like this? I don't understand. And this damned dog collar around my neck hurts! It's too tight."