Bound Beauties 8



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The Procurer took the clip off Rebecca`s nipple. She lay on the floor,
exhausted, her threshold of pain nearly surmounted. She was a limp, wet rag.
She
only started in reaction when Masters slipped her bra back on, sealing in the
abused tit. Then he pulled the shirt together, only able to button the bottom
two. The rest had been torn off.
He grabbed her by the shoulders and sat her up just as the back left door swung
open. Paula was standing there. She reached in and took Rebecca`s arms from her
boss as he went for the right rear door. He exited the car as Paula dragged
Rebecca out and stood her own her own weak feet.
"Come on now," the driver said. Rebecca tried to reply, but couldn`t. She was
too weak. That was the entire of the final shock therapy treatment.
The night was dark and cool and empty. Even though they were on a residential
street, amidst many homes, there were no lights on inside the houses. There
were
street lights, but the one nearest this house was mysteriously dark. A result
of
vandalism, no doubt.
So there was no one to see Rebecca`s plight and no way to see her in any case.
Her mouth was not covered. It was filled with a dark device
which was invisible in the night. Her hands were crossed behind her, but the
dark cord which bound her wrists blended in with her dark skirt. And the thigh
rope which kept her from taking long steps was beneath the cloth.
Besides, both Paula and Masters sandwiched her, arms everywhere-around her
shoulders, waist, arms, and hips-keeping her upright and moving toward the
door.
"Come on now," Paula repeated.
There was a porch with three steps. Paula already had the front door key out.
The portal swung in. Rebecca was half led, half carried in the darkness as she
sought to call out, blinking sweat from her eyes.
They dropped her inside the threshold. Her knees buckled and she went down,
heavily. She just managed to twist on her side before hitting the teak wood
floor with a thud.
Both Paula and Masters could see a cloud of dust falling as the yellow lights
were switched on. It was a single room, as originally intended. There was a
yellow light hanging from the ceiling, a table lamp to the right, a third on
the
way down, and a standing lamp on the left two thirds down the way. Behind a
partition on the left side of the far wall was the bathroom. Behind a partition
on the right side of the far wall was a kitchenette.
Between all those things was a perverted playground.
It jumped into Rebecca`s eyes with the stark-ness of a harsh, flashbulb-lit,
black-and-white photo. To her right, behind the door, an upright pole was
screwed into the floor. Then there was a bed and bed springs, but no mattress.
The mattress was beside it. Also beside it was a plain wooden chair with arms,
also bolted to the floor. Everything besides the mattress was bolted to the
floor.



The Procurer swept his arm. Paula reached down, dragged Rebecca from the
doorway, and closed the portal with her foot. She half carried, half dragged
Rebecca halfway across the room, then dumped her in the chair. Before the
redhead could even settle, Paula lifted the captive`s arms so that they hung
over the chair back.
"Prepare her," said the Procurer, still by the door. "I`ll get everything ready
for tomorrow . . . I mean, later today."
The words seemed to echo in Rebecca`s battered mind. Tomorrow? That was when
the
Miss Bouillabaisse contestants arrived . . . ! But then she had other things to
concern herself.
The Procurer left quickly, closing the door behind him. Rebecca was alone in
the
yellow-lit, cavernous room with the tall, brackish-haired, slightly bucktoothed
Amazon.
The look in the driver`s eyes made Rebecca want to retreat into her own brain.
Back there she heard echoes. Echoes of the voices of loved ones. She had to
remember she had loved ones to save her sanity from this affront. But these
voices were far from soothing. They screamed at her.
Her father saying, "Be careful."
A previous lover begging her not to be so independent.
A friend wondering why she drove herself so hard.
Another wondering why she was "asking for trouble" by dressing so sexy.
And her mother. Her mother warning her. It had been a strange conversation. It
had been after some other girl had beaten Rebecca for a seat on the student
council.
"If you have a choice, never put yourself at the mercy of another girl," she
had
said. "Better the worst man than the nicest girl. Because a girl knows what
another girl can take. A girl knows what another girl can stand. And a girl
knows how to push. A girl knows where and when to push another girl. A girl
knows how to drive another girl to the edge ... and over...."
Rebecca called for her mother in a frightened voice. The cry was cut off as
Paula whirled toward her. She strode over, her white high heels clacking. She
stood above the cowering redhead in the chair, her hands on both hips,
surveying
the captive. Then she quickly unzipped her jacket. Lowering her arms, the denim
garment slipped off, falling to the floor in another cloud of raised dust.
Beneath, Paula wore only a U-neck, sleeveless undershirt, her big, floppy tits
with their huge, nearly invisible bright pink aureolas clearly, apparent
beneath.
She reached down and grabbed Rebecca`s chin, giving the girl a choice of
staring
into her cold gray eyes, looking at her leering face, or peering down her
hanging cleavage. Rebecca tried to look away, but the woman shook the girl`s
chin.
"Just you and me now, sweetums." She snapped Rebecca`s face away. "Just you and
me."
Rebecca`s face snapped back toward the front. Paula slapped her sharply, quick,
hard.
Rebecca`s head whipped about once more, as if it were on a spring. Paula caught
it as it snapped back, again gripping the girl`s chin tightly in her fingers.
Rebecca`s hair was across her face as well.



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