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She was taken to a punishment room
next door. Her wrists were still bare-bottom
spankings bound behind her back, gang
rape and the uncomfortable ball gag held her mouth
wide open. Her captor took her to a spot in the room
where iron rings were mounted in the floor, and here
he made her kneel down. Quickly he fitted leather
ankle cuffs, and locked them to the rings in the floor
so her ankles were close together. He had forgotten
to remove her bikini pants, so he did the job with
a knife. Christina shuddered and began to perspire
in horror as her nakedness was exposed. Next he unhooked
her brassiere. She felt cool air on her beautiful
round breasts. How often at home she had stroked and
admired the lovely maidenly bosom with which nature
had richly endowed rape in movies her, wondering who
would be the first to be dazzled by her naked charms.
Her captor, who seemed to be an Arab by his dress,
seemed to agree with his young victim, for he could
not resist feeling the firm globes with his coarse
hands. He went to the wall, which was hung with rape
drugs straps, chains, harnesses, and various insturments
of chastisement unknown to the young American girl,
and brought back a thin leather harness. Carefully
he draped this round her breasts, crossing over the
shoulder straps at her back, and securing gangbang
rape them tightly to the cross strap that went under
her arms. Then he lifted Christina's wrists and locked
them tightly to the breast harness, so that she had
to bend forward to ease the discomfort. Next he fetched
a discipline helmet. As soon as he loosened the ball
gag, Christina gasped and started pleading for mercy.
But in reply he slipped the ugly black helmet clean
over her pretty face. Through zippered openings her
nervous eyes peered out.
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"You mean what?" she asked sternly,
enunciating each word with slow ease. Her faint New
England accent made the words seem aristocratic. femdom
There was an edge to her voice and a tightening of
her grip on the whip, a cherished gift from an old
lover she'd met and left at West Point, twenty years
earlier. Youngest head of the Joint Chiefs of Staff
and the first female, ushered into the top acquaintance
rape ranks of the military along with the first woman
president and nearly a half female Senate. "I mean
nothing," Michael answered weakly. The General gave
him an affectionate swat on the butt with the glossy
handle of her whip. The young man, barely free
rape fantasy 18, tensed then relaxed. The President
stepped forward and placed her hands reassuringly
on Michael's wiry young shoulders. Such a burden rape
in movies for one so young to carry, she thought wryly.
Not unlike the burden of leadership. The head of the
U.S. smiled slightly, considering what rape games
she had planned for this evening. A week of unrelenting
reporters and trying minor crises had left her strained
and nervous. This was a splendid idea of the General's.
Jenny asked, "Can my friend get up from the desk now?"
The President considered, then assented. "For now."
Jenny helped Michael up, and made a secret, apologetic
face at him while her back was turned to the older
women.
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