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An itchy wool blanket had been tightly tucked around her, covering her body from the neck down. Beneath, her black lace leotard was still pulled down to her waist. The wool covering was then stuff under her arms and as deep between her legs as it would go. It all wrapped her. She hummed, gurgled, and shook. She rocked back and forth, twisting -- her turn to be sealed in her own world.
Dana had taken her place at the table, but she was not kneeling, nor was she eating. Both girls were only fed once a day. Same with him: he had a big lunch in preparation for his frst night with his new roommates. Melissa’s main course had been him. His main course now Dana.
She lay across the table. The old woman had bought it specifcally for this purpose. It was heavy and solids as well as small enough to do the trick. Dana’s shoulders lay on one end, facing the shaded, curtained, shuddered windows. Her hips were on the other facing the kitchen.
The ropes that held her down were white, small, and incredibly tight. Rope clinched her ankles, affxing them wide to the table le facing the kitchen. Rope wrapped her wrists, which were bound side by side and pulled behind her head. Her elbows bent and more rope affxed her wrists tightly to a steel peg under the table, just below her neck.
The piece de resistance was the rope tying her elbows together under her head. It made her elbows and upper arms her pillow, upon which her skull rested. It forced up her face, so her chin was almost resting on her chest.
Then there was the big ring gag ... which was now in Dana’s mouth, prying Dana’s teeth wide, distending Dana’s jaw. She was for to stare down at herself ... for all she could see.
“You see?” the old woman told her son. Her arms hold her head forward.” She tilted her head to look at Dana’s shaking chest. “It is also the most lovely position for her boobs.”
She reached down, grabbed the sides of the chemise’s bodice and pulled them down to the breast’s base. Dana’s tits jiggled and bounced as Dana complained sharply. Her groan stilled as her tits did.
“There,” said the old woman, satisfed. The tight lingerie, still ballasted by their spaghetti straps, pushed Dana’s pendulous orbs together. She tried to pull her legs free, but the rope held, and the heavy table didn’t move. She tried to speak, then moaned at the mush which emerged from her widened mouth. She sucked in the drool that was collecting between her tongue and lower teeth.
“Very good,” he agreed, and started climbing on top of her.
Dana started to repeatedly cry no. But her mushed words were cut off when he put his knees on either side of her waist and sat up on her stomach. She made a huh-ing sound, trying to focus on him. But he was a huge blur above the fuzzy peaks of her exposed, vibrating breasts.
She stared at her chest with unfocused eyes and felt a sudden pang of dread. She knew what he was going to do. She tried to slide off or kick, but to no avail. He took out his prick and wedged it between her chest mounds.
Dana groaned and tried to turn her face, but her upper arms were pressed tightly against the sides of her head. She closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, she saw a little feshy eye peek out between her breasts.
Dana’s brow was suddenly covered in lines and her silky brown eyebrows furrowed together. Sweat dripped from every wrinkle, burning her huge, deep eyes. She forced herself to look down as far as she could; to the ring making her wide open mouth a giant target.
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