CHAPTER EIGHT
Dorothy was left alone for the next couple of hours while Vic ran his errands and Len relaxed in the living room watching quiz shows and cartoons on television. She took a long, relaxing bath and washed her hair. With a sense of relief she realized that no harm had come to her, no physical harm. She was humiliated, reduced to nothing but a warm receptacle for their pumping semen.
Her concern for David was growing. He had been locked in his room since yesterday. Not one sound came out. She wondered if he was all right, if he had any way of escaping to rescue her. Then she scoffed, even if he could get free what could he do? Vic and Len were thoughtless, powerful young men who would eagerly enjoy the opportunity to meet him in battle. She was fully dressed in blue jeans and a sweatshirt top when Len sauntered into the bedroom.
Dorothy felt a resurgence of the fear he inspired in her. “Well, well, look who's all cleaned up and bright faced,” he drawled. “I should make some breakfast,” she said. “Yep, that's a good idea.
But I been thinking. Thinking about you and that you might try escaping on us.” “No, I can't escape,” she said. “Sure. And I can't get a hard-on,” he sneered. “I want you to take all the clothes out of your closet and put them in suitcases,” he added.
“What? Why?” “Just as a precaution. I don't think you'll be running off in what I let you wear.” “But, Len… that's…”
“Shut up!” he snapped. “Just do as I say! And make sure you get everything in the suitcase because I'll check. And every piece of clothing except underwear that's left out will mean five hard slaps across your ass with my belt. Get it?” Dorothy nodded. He was a despicable bastard, absolutely capable of whipping her. “Now you got fifteen minutes to get it done or I'll dump the clothes in the fireplace and we'll have ourselves a little bonfire!” He left the room and Dorothy did as she was instructed. It broke her heart to empty everything from the closet and stuff her pants and dresses and blouses into two large suitcases. As an afterthought she withdrew one complete set of clothes, slacks and a nice blouse. She tucked them into a small cosmetic case along with her hair brush, tooth brush and assorted necessities. It was her emergency kit, just in case.
Dorothy slid the case under her bed and stood up. She was dusting her hands and knees when Len returned. He visually inspected her closet and went through the drawers of her dresser. With a satisfied nod he turned and looked inside the two suitcases. “Everything's there,” Dorothy said. He nodded, then grinned. “Oh, gosh, Dorothy I hate to say this cause you tried so hard to do everything like I said. But you've made some mistakes, they'll cost you ten whacks on that sweet ass of yours.” “What? No, I got everything, honest!”
He shook his head. “Nope. You got a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt still out of the suitcases. You have to pay the price for forgetting them.” “What?” She looked down at herself and saw she was referring to the clothes she had on. “But I'm wearing these,” she protested in a weak voice. “Get 'em off and into this suitcase, stupid! I told you everything and I meant it!” “But what will I wear?” she asked. “No questions! Now strip!” With trembling fingers Dorothy hoisted the sweatshirt up and over her head. The bra-covered mounds of breast shone like white beacons on her chest as she unzipped the jeans and stepped out of them. Her white panties hugged all her curving anatomy like a thin coat of paint. Len licked his lips as he saw the bulging outline of her swollen pussy. She placed the clothing in the suitcase while keeping her eyes averted.
His constant, leering stares were making her ill. She hated his piercing eyes. She closed the suitcase and turned to him. “Now what do I wear?” she asked. His eyes traveled from the full outcropped breasts down her belly and narrow waist before settling again on the pulpy fill of her panty crotch. She saw he was rested from this morning, the thick lump of arousal was back in his pants. “Get that bra and panties off.” “But you said I didn't have to pack them.”
“I didn't tell you to pack them, I said get 'em off your tits and ass!” he snapped. Dorothy reluctantly reached back and unsnapped her bra. It fell from her succulent tits and pink nipples with a gradual slide. Len felt his cock throb with fire as the soft, relaxed nipples filled his vision. As she lowered her underpants the cap of whispering blond hair excited him even more. She stood before him totally nude, embarrassed. A slight blush colored her cheeks. He grinned and stood up. “Okay, follow me, my dear and we'll get you some more suitable clothing.” She cradled her rocking breasts with one arm and tried her best to cover her crotch while following him into the unkempt, filthy mess he and Vic called their bedroom. Len dug into his dresser and yanked out a white shirt. It was an undershirt, the thin cotton type with tank straps at the shoulder. “See how this fits,” he mumbled while once again staring at the enticing beauty of her bare crotch. “But… But it's so small,” she meekly said.
“Yeah, I know. I haven't worn it in years… It shrank in the wash. Now squeeze your big tits into it.” Dorothy worked the ribbed material over her head as Len watched her breasts wobble and bounce. She had to stretch the shirt over the tits and squash them up inside it was so tight. The breasts pressed out with swollen fullness against the cotton, each nipple was perfectly outlined and readily visible as a pink circle under the cloth. “Yeah, that's nice.
Especially the way your suckers slide out at each side,” Len remarked.
Dorothy looked down. The wide-cut armholes were pulled forward by her filling breasts-each one managed to slide sideways and large gobs of her pure white flesh were forced into sight. But the worst thing was the length. It came down to her hips and stopped. Just enough to cover her crotch if she held very still and didn't inhale too deeply.
But when she moved, walked, bent, the bottom rose up high and slid above the roundness of her ass. “Fits perfect,” Len said. “We can keep our eyes on your nice ass and cunt to make sure they don't get lonely. And whenever we want a piece of tit all we have to do is this.” He shot his hand out and caught a finger inside the neck part of the shirt. With a quick tug he jerked it forward, the material stretched out and each breast slipped sideways into the armholes. Her tits were widespread and forced into sight with distorted, stretched fullness. Len snickered as she worked each breast back into the cover of the shirt She wanted to cry. Even covered the shirt afforded the breasts no privacy. They looked obscene, they were so compressed and visible. “Okay,” Len quietly said. “Now you can cook me up some eggs and bacon.” He constantly followed her with his eyes never leaving the exposed sections of her ass, the billowing breasts, the occasional glimpses of blond hair. She stood before the stove frying his eggs as he sat at the table watching. She hoped he was satisfied for the present and now wished Vic was back. At least Vic had tried to impose some humanity on Len. But Len was on his feet and giggling. He reached for one of the eggs still in the carton. “I have an idea,” he snickered. “A great idea.” Dorothy shuddered with fear as he took her arm and pulled her to the kitchen table. “Lay on your back on the table,” he said. “Why?” she asked. His face became menacing. “Just do as I say!” She eased her fanny up onto the table and lay back. It was a cold table top but she didn't even feel it her pulse was pounding so hard. What was he going to do with that egg? She found out soon enough. He pushed her legs up and back to peer down at the pink-lipped tenderness of her firm cunt.
She grimaced as she felt his fingers crudely poke inside and start to search for wetness. She was dry. With a curse Len grabbed the butter and smeared a gob up into her gash. She felt the cold grease as he worked it into a liquid smear across her crotch. “Please…” she moaned. “Quit your bitching,” he mumbled. Then the fingers were gone and she felt the egg, still in the shell, pressing at her buttered crack. “What are you doing?” she pleaded. “I'm gonna let you play chicken, baby. You're gonna lay an egg for Vic.”
“No… oh, no…” He pushed slowly against the end of the white egg until it sank completely inside her moist, red lips. Then using his fingers he pushed it deep inside her cunt. “Okay, now I want you to hold that little sucker in there.” “I can't,” she moaned.
“It'll fall out.” “Jesus Christ! Hold that fucking egg in your cunt and squat on the floor! I don't want you hatching it until I say so! Understand!” His voice was loud, insistent, and he emphasized each word by unbuckling his thick leather belt. The lump in her pussy was a stretching, filling ball of cold and she knew it could easily break. The horrifying thought of sharp, broken eggshells inside her tender hole made Dorothy move with great caution. She slid from the table and down to the floor. Amazingly, the egg stayed in place.
Len took an empty frying pan and slid it between her feet. “Now squat down over the pan and cluck!” “Oh… God…” In total humiliation Dorothy slowly squatted down, the tee-shirt rode up to her waist and her bare ass was completely exposed. “Very good!” Len laughed. “Now cluck!” A sob escaped her lips and Dorothy started to cry. But she saw him start to withdraw his belt from around his waist and with all the courage she could muster Dorothy moaned, “Cluck! Cluck! Cluck!” “Good girl! Now flap your arms like a chicken!” She stretched her arms out to each side while tears streamed down her cheeks. As she flapped them the breasts poured from the shirt and wobbled endlessly beside each armpit. Len was in hysterics, he slapped his thighs and enjoyed her demonstration
