Mouths To Feed, Part 1

When the bag came off her head, the pretty little thing went to run.

But the first thing she noticed was that her arms held up and chained above her head. And her legs were locked to cuffs that rattled against the bolts in the floor.

After she noticed that she was stuck, like a fly in a web, she noticed she was only wearing her bra and panties that she had put on for the date with the cute girl from English.

The cute girl that seemingly drugged her and transported her to….

The pretty little thing looked around the dark room.

First her eyes adjusted to the dark to see the rows of candles lined up on either side of the room.

Then she noticed them – three girls and two guys, it appeared. Completely naked and on their knees with their head bowed.

The pretty little thing rattled her chains and screamed. The air was moody and something smelled damp. Like leaving your clothes in the washing machine too long.

At the far end of the concrete slab of a room, two pale hands appeared, almost materialised out of the shadows — and clapped twice softly.
A woman, Hispanic, middle aged. Rose to her feet and stepped towards her. 

Her breasts were curvy, her nipples dark and inviting.

Her cunt was natural, untrimmed and yet possessing the beauty of middle age. 

She didn’t make eye contact with the pretty little thing, only looked down.

The pretty little thing screamed some more, even thrashed a little, but it was hopeless. 

The woman unclasped the pretty little thing’s bra and threw it aside gently. 

Feeling the cold on her nipples, the pretty little thing felt the rising frustration as she couldn’t shield herself from the prying watchful eyes of the naked people. 

When the Hispanic woman tore off her red lacy panties, the pretty little thing felt embarrassed. She wasn’t fit for being examined, came an odd thought. She hadn’t trimmed or shaved. She had, the thought went on, let herself go.
“Begin” came a voice at the end of the room. A voice from the shadows.

It was Male, relaxed. In control.

“Where am I? Who are you people?”

The Hispanic woman slapped her face and pain shot up through her cheek and splintered up to her forehead. 

“Don’t kill me. Just let me go”

The Hispanic woman slapped her again, this time leaving a burning sensation most unpleasant.

The nude people rose and moved towards her slowly, like zombies out of an old black and white horror film.

They shuffled towards her and the pretty little girl screamed till pain tore up her throat.

She coughed and took in a huge breath. It was no use.
A woman with blonde pigtails and perky tits kneeled before the pretty little thing.

The pretty little thing rattled her chains and tried so hard to break free but it started to tear at her wrists and ankles. 

The Hispanic woman disappeared behind her to places she could not see.

Suddenly she felt rough hands on her ass, then something soft and probing — her tongue. 

It parted her ass and teased her anus. 

The pretty little struggled against the new sensation. No one had done that to her before and it made her uneasy. 

As the two men, one lightly red and pale, the other muscular and dark haired, approached her, the blonde with the pig tails and perky tits lowered her mouth onto the pretty little thing’s cunt.

She struggled, struggled to push the invaders away, but she was locked into place. Forced to endure. 
A third woman emerged from the shadows, she was African American and her hand was between her legs, working furiously. 

With her other hand, she was twisting her nipples. Stretching it. The pretty little thing had never seen a nipple be contorted to such lengths.
The men each lowered themselves onto a nipple of the pretty little thing and she could feel madness beckoning her. 

She was being raped, assaulted on every front. No amount of wiggling or screaming could help her. She was, to all extents and purposes, their slave.
She could feel the tongue parting her anus and trying to slip inside. She could feel the tongue sliding between her slit and her clit.  

Her body was crumbling, giving way to the most primal urge, but her mind was ferociously refusing the treatment. But…

But I do like my clit worked
, she thought.

To be continued…


6 thoughts on “Mouths To Feed, Part 1

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