Page 143 - Demo

143Stuck in what for anchors? Her mattress. Foam? It would offer nothing of the sort. Anchors need firmer ground.The bed moved slightly. It was him, Alan. She knew he was climbing up onto the bed. Her heart began to race and her vagina was producing liquid. She could hear that struggled breathing and imagined his labour to use just his arms to reach his goal and the focus of his aim: herself!Was she privileged, or the chosen lamb made ready for slaughter?%u201cI%u2019m here, Alan.%u201d She whispered, hoping to strike up some kind of compliant unity. What came back disturbed her. It was a single sound; one that a predator might make as it approached its prey: a low rumbling growl. She shivered in fear and began to want to be untied and leave the room.He was on the bed. She could feel his approach. Nancy had tied her not into a tight ball with both her legs spread-eagled open, and her knickered crotch facing the ceiling. Her knickered anus was just six inches above the bed.She felt the sheets of mucus falling over her body and then his face was hovering over hers, dropping much like waterfalls down onto her eyes, nose, and mouth. Immediately, she desired not to be trussed up so. She wanted to be free and his cock driving into her. She felt his sharp nails or something scoring down her body and then extraordinary strength ripping her knickers away, tearing them to shreds. Hands came up and pulled her bra so hard, it sheared and snapped the way an over-stretched elastic band breaks.She loved it. The sensation was like being freed. Stick it in, she pleaded in her mind. Ram me and fuck me to death, she thought. It was an overwhelming desire. There is nothing, no future, no past, just this suspended moment in time when lust, like a force of gravity, a meteor The Carer