them convinced her all over again that she couldn't escape that way. She would have to get the key to the lock if she wanted her freedom.
Still, this wasn't too bad. The velvet spread on the bed felt nice to her hands and the bed was soft and comfortable. The only thing bothering her was the drying cum in her hair. She managed to get the jism off her face where the man had come, but the jizz hung with gluey tenacity to her long hair.
Sitting on the bed, dejected more than scared, she thought about her predicament. There was no escape for her – not right now. She would have to plot and plan carefully before she and Michael could get away from this place. Michael!
She had forgotten all about him. She had stripped him so that Mr. Stanton could beat him with the whip. Her own welts had gone away and only mild bruises remained, but Michael's beating had been more severe. She could tell by the sound of the whip hitting his naked flesh. How could she possibly save him?
Wasn't it supposed to be the man who rescued the woman? Why should she worry about freeing him when he was the one who should get her out? She shook her head, a cascade of red hair falling down into her face. She began to worry. It didn't matter who rescued who as long as they both got away and got home.
Home?
She couldn't go back. How could she face her father? He had spanked her like a little girl and tried to convince her that she wasn't the grownup she thought she was. If she went home and told him she had been raped up the ass by a trucker and then sold into slavery to some maniacal millionaire who forced her to suck his prick while he whipped her, her father would only laugh. He'd use the old line, 'I told you so,' and she couldn't stand that. She would have to escape with or without Michael and deal with Mr. Stanton on her own terms. After all, if she was as adult as she thought she was, she could make him listen to reason. He would have to let her go.
He'd have to!
Just as she was convincing herself that she could talk the devil out of possessing a damned soul, the lights went out. The room plunged into absolute darkness. It happened so fast that the girl thought she had been struck blind. But the tiny spots of blues and yellows dancing in front of her eyes told her that she hadn't gone blind.
'What's wrong?' she called out. She thought she heard a slight movement but wasn't sure. Her ears could be playing tricks on her. After all, it was so totally dark that she couldn't even begin to tell if the entire U.S. Army was in here with her or not.
She giggled, her foot feeling funny. It was as if someone dragged a feather across her leg, moving it slowly around her ankle. She kicked out, but there was no one there. She thought the darkness was playing tricks on her until she felt the feather again.
This time it was moving across her throat, lightly tormenting her cheek and nose. She sneezed and rolled away, forgetting all about her peril. She laughed and cried out as if she were ten years old again.
'Who's there?' she cried. 'Is it you, Michael? Did Stanton let you go? Don't do this to me!'
The feather hit her again and she began to laugh harder and harder. The feather stroked down the front of her blouse and across her tits. Somehow, her blouse had come open – then slipped off.
The feather stroked across her rigid nipples, down the deep slopes of her tits and along the bottom of the canyon between her jugs. It ringed her broad tits and moved lower across her belly. She was convulsed with laughter, unable to stop. The laughter was almost painful to her. Rattling her chains, she tried to grab the hand holding the tickling instrument. She couldn't.
Then, her jeans were stripped off while she was giggling. Her panties were already in tatters from when the trucker had anally raped her. The pitiful strands of fabric were quickly discarded. Only when the feather stroked across her cuntlips did the young teenager realize she was totally naked. She could feel the velvet bedspread under half her body. And the feather danced over her turgid cuntlips and poked toward her asshole.
'Stop! Not there!' she pleaded, her hands out in front of her in supplication. But the darkness prevented anyone from seeing. She wandered how the person holding the feather could direct it so expertly. Sheryle never figured it out. She wasn't given the time to think about it.
The feather stroked over and over until her cunt sprang to rigid attention. The tiny organ between her slender legs got the full treatment from the feather. She laughed and cried at the same time. And then she came – hard! Never in her young life had she climaxed so powerfully. And all because of a feather being used on her in the dark.
She began to vaguely realize the horror in the situation. She had no idea who was doing this to her. Her unseen assailant could do whatever he pleased as long as she was laughing. Her defenses were down and she was more helpless than if she had been tied up like a mummy.
'Stop, stop it! I can't take any more,' she laughed. Holding her sides while convulsed with laughter, she turned on one side. And felt the feather wetly drag along her cuntlips again. The tingly feeling racing through her body was unusual, one she had never experienced before. Who ever used the feather was trying to fuck her with it. But her own fuck juices caused it to become too soggy for that.
The bed creaked a little as added weight burdened the springs. She rolled slightly, feeling another warm body near her.
'Michael?' she asked softly. 'Did that awful man let you go?'
No answer. She reached out, her chains jingling in the absolute darkness. She felt a surge of panic again. The man beside her was totally silent. All she really knew was that it had to be man – his erect prick lightly brushed against her naked flesh.
The laughter tied her up more effectively than any rope could. Another feather brushed across her turgid nipples, stroking and teasing and toying with her as if she were some object of contempt.
She couldn't even resist when the strong hands moved her flat onto her back. Her legs were pulled up on either side of a strong body and a cock rammed hard toward her pussy. She cried out, but it was more of a giggle than a real protest. The feather had done its work. She was ready for anything, even a hard driving prick all the way up her virgin cunt.
'Please, don't do this…'
She felt the cock trembling at the opening of her pussy. The thick end of the man's pecker pushed through her pinkly scalloped pussylips and paused for a moment, as if wondering if her pussy might not be too hot.
Inch by inch, the cock slowly penetrated her body. She was deluged with a fresh wave of sensation that threatened to drown her. The young girl never realized anything in the world could be as exciting. She had almost let Michael fuck her twice before, but the feelings inside her tender body had been nothing like those possessing her now.
She was turned on in a big way. The feather was more effective than any other kind of foreplay she could have hoped for. It made her abandon her fears, drop her mental barriers, and prepared her for this penetration. Every nerve in her body was singing in joy.
Joy for the prick about to pick her cherry. When the head of his cock rammed into her hymen, she felt a sting. Then the feather returned, grazing her tits, tormenting her nipples, stroking along her jaw. When a hot, wet tongue shoved cock-hard into the channel of her ear, she actually got off on it. Her come wasn't too powerful, but it allowed her to forget the small amount of pain in her cunt.
Another half inch of that steely prick rammed into her virgin cunt. And another and another until she cried out in momentary pain. But everything else occupied her senses. The feather stroking all over her ribs, tracing out bone after bone, thrilled her. The tongue seeking out the depths of her ear moved to the rim. It wetly, roughly moved around her sensitive earlobe until she was panting in harsh desire.
'Yes, yes,' she moaned out, 'take me now! Hurry! I want it, oh, sweet Jesus, how I want it!'
And she got it. Her cherry had been popped and she had hardly felt it. Now the prick doing the work rammed urgently all the way up into her tight, hot cunt. She screamed, her inner membrane stretching to take the thick length of the man's prick.
She had never thought it would be like this. Pleasure and pain mixed a never ending parade of confusion for her. But the pain went away as soon as her resilient young cunt walls expanded enough to take the cock fully. She could even feel the man's dick bucking and bouncing around. Every single vein standing up on the surface pulsed hard against her super-sensitive pussy walls. This turned her on.
The feel of the tongue moving down to the hollow of her throat turned her on. The hot breath gusting against her tender skin made her into a wild woman. But most of all, the huge prick buried balls-deep in her pussy
