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#Abuse #Blackmail #Lesbian #Rape
By Relatively Speaking
Boone draws Lynda deeper into her web of debauchery.
Chapter 7 – The Outing
The next morning, the harsh light of dawn pierced the curtains, illuminating the grim reality of their situation. Boone was just lying there, watching her, a smirk playing on her lips as she watched Lynda struggle back to consciousness.
“Rise and shine, sweetheart,” she said, her tone sickeningly cheerful. “We’ve got a full day of… bonding ahead of us.”
Lynda swallowed the bile rising in her throat, nodded, and began to get dressed.
“You don’t need to worry about clothes, we’re not going out for a bit.”
Boone slid off the bed, her naked body moving with the grace of a predator. She sauntered over to Lynda and gave her a passionate kiss.
Lynda’s stomach twisted in disgust, but she played along, trying to keep the facade intact. She knew she had to be careful; one wrong move and everything could come crashing down. The taste of Boone’s kiss lingered on her lips like the aftermath of a bitter storm.
“Good,” Boone said, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Now, why don’t you go and make us some breakfast.”
Lynda nodded, her mind racing with plans. In the kitchen, she tried to steady her trembling hands as she cracked eggs into the frying pan, the sizzle echoing through the silence like the soundtrack of her fear. She knew she had to keep Boone happy, keep her distracted. If she could just find a way to get a message out, to let someone know what was happening…
As she placed the food on the table, Boone strolled in, looking over the simple meal with a critical eye. “You know, you really should put more effort into these things. After all, you’re going to be cooking for me a lot from now on.”
Lynda forced a smile, the knot in her stomach growing tighter. “I’ll get better, I promise,” she said, her voice shaky. She took a seat, her heart racing as Boone sat opposite her, their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills.
They ate in silence, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. With every bite, Lynda felt a little more trapped, a little more desperate. The eggs tasted like sand in her mouth, but she chewed and swallowed, determined to keep her strength up for whatever was to come.
After the meal, Boone stood and stretched, her muscles flexing like coiled springs. “Come on,” she said, her voice low and seductive. “Let’s go sort out your closet, I like my toys to look pretty.”
Lynda felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead.
“Your closet,” Boone repeated, the smugness in her voice unmistakable. “I want to see what we’re working with.”
Lynda’s stomach churned as she followed Boone to her bedroom, her mind racing for a way out of this new humiliation.
“Take out everything,” Boone ordered, leaning against the door frame with arms crossed over her chest. “Everything.”
With trembling hands, Lynda began to pull out her clothes from the closet, piling them onto the bed. The room felt smaller with Boone’s presence, the air thick with the weight of their shared secret.
Boone sorted through Lynda’s clothes, tossing the more conservative outfits to one side.
“You’re going to need more of these,” she said, holding up a short, tight dress that barely covered the essentials. “I don’t want anyone else to miss out on the view.”
Lynda’s cheeks burned as she silently obeyed, her eyes downcast, avoiding the reflection in the mirror that showed the truth she couldn’t face. Each garment was a silent declaration of her new reality, each item a prison sentence she had to wear.
“These will do,” Boone decided, holding up a few of Lynda’s more revealing pieces. “But we’ll need to go shopping. I want you to look perfect for me.”
Lynda’s heart sank. The thought of being paraded around town in front of people she knew, wearing clothes that screamed “I belong to Boone,” was more than she could bear. But she kept her expression neutral, nodded, and continued to fold and stack her clothes as Boone directed.
Once they had gone through her outerwear, Boone directed Lynda to take out he undergarments.
“These can go; I don’t want you wearing anything that impedes my progress.”
Boone’s casual dismissal of Lynda’s modesty sent a shiver down her spine as she watched her underwear being tossed into a bin. It was a stark reminder that her body was no longer her own, but a playground for Boone’s twisted desires. She forced herself to stay calm, focusing on the task at hand.
“Good,” Boone said with a nod. “Now, let’s find you something to wear.”
Lynda’s eyes widened in horror as Boone pulled out the short, leather skirt and the see-through, lacy top. She had bought them for a costume party she had never attended, and now they were being used to dress her like Boone’s personal doll.
“Put these on,” Boone said, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Lynda took the clothes, her hands shaking as she stepped into the skirt and pulled the top over her head. The cool leather hugged her thighs, and the flimsy material of the top barely contained her breasts. She felt exposed and vulnerable, her skin crawling with the reality of what Boone had turned her into.
“Turn around,” Boone demanded.
Lynda did as she was told, the leather skirt whispering against her skin as she pivoted. She could feel Boone’s eyes raking over her, appraising her like a piece of meat at a market.
“Perfect,” Boone said with a smirk. “You’re going to look so good when we go out.”
Lynda’s heart skipped a beat. “Out?” she asked, trying to keep the panic out of her voice.
“Mmhmm,” Boone said, nodding. “I’ve got some errands to run, and you’re coming with me.”
Lynda’s stomach dropped. The idea of going out in public dressed like this was unbearable. She felt naked, exposed, and utterly humiliated. But she knew she had no choice.
“I’ll…just grab some shoes,” she managed to say, her voice small and shaky. Boone nodded, her smugness palpable.
“Some heels.” ordered Boone.
Lynda looked at the shoe rack, her eyes scanning the rows of shoes. She spotted a pair of black stilettos she had bought on a whim and never worn. They seemed to mock her now, a symbol of the life she had lost. With trembling hands, she slipped her feet into them, the leather cold and unforgiving.
Boone was waiting, a look of approval on her face. “That’s more like it,” she said, her eyes raking over Lynda’s nearly naked form. Boone grabbed a pair of sunglasses from the dresser and handed them to her. “These will help hide the bruises.”
Lynda took the sunglasses with a trembling hand, the cold reality of her situation slapping her in the face. She put them on, feeling the weight of Boone’s control pressing down on her even further.
“Let’s go,” Boone said, grabbing her hand and pulling her out of the room and back to Mark’s room where she got dressed.
The walk to the car was a blur of embarrassment and fear. The cool morning air hit her exposed skin, sending goosebumps racing across her body. She kept her head down, hoping none of her neighbors would see her. Boone opened the car door, her grip on Lynda’s hand unyielding.
As they drove, Boone’s hand slithered up Lynda’s thigh, the leather skirt offering no barrier. Her touch was a brand, searing through to Lynda’s soul. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, her eyes fixed on the horizon, willing the world to swallow her whole.
“You look so hot in that outfit,” Boone whispered, her voice thick with lust. “Everyone’s going to be staring.”
Lynda felt the heat of embarrassment creep up her neck, but she kept her eyes straight ahead. The car rolled to a stop, and Boone’s hand slid from her thigh to her chin, tilting her head back to meet her gaze.
“Don’t worry,” Boone said, a wicked smile playing on her lips. “You’ll get used to it. And if you’re really good, I might even let you keep some of these clothes on when we get back.”
Lynda felt a cold sweat break out as Boone’s thumb traced her lower lip. She nodded, her eyes wide with fear. Boone leaned in, her breath hot and minty as she kissed her cheek.
“You look beautiful,” murmured Boone.
The words were a knife twisting in Lynda’s gut, but she managed a weak smile, trying to keep the panic at bay. “Thank you,” she murmured, the lie feeling like sandpaper on her tongue.
They stepped out of the car, and Lynda took a deep breath, steeling herself for the ordeal ahead. The sidewalks were empty, the early hour a small mercy. Boone’s hand was firm around her arm, guiding her to a small, local convenience store. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a harsh glow on the shelves packed with goods. The bell above the door jingled as they entered, and the clerk looked up with a bored expression that turned into a leer when he saw Boone’s hand on her.
Lynda felt his eyes rove over her barely-there outfit, and she wanted to shrink into herself, to become invisible. Boone tossed a few items into a basket, her hand still on Lynda’s arm, a silent reminder of her dominance. She leaned in close, her breath tickling Lynda’s ear.
“You’re going to be so much fun to show off,” Boone murmured, her voice dripping with excitement.
Lynda felt the clerk’s gaze linger on them, his eyes ogling her in a way that made her stomach turn. She tried to pull away from Boone, but the other woman’s grip tightened, keeping her close. Boone didn’t miss the clerk’s stare, and she leaned in, whispering into Lynda’s ear, “You’re mine now, remember?”
Her voice was a mix of possessiveness and threat, sending a chill down Lynda’s spine. She nodded, her eyes never leaving the floor. Boone chuckled, her hand sliding down to squeeze Lynda’s ass. “Good girl,” she said, and then released her to grab a pack of cigarettes from the counter.
The clerk’s gaze remained fixed on them as he scanned the items. He handed Boone the receipt with a knowing smile, and Lynda could feel his eyes on her as they left the store. The chilly air outside was a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere inside.
As they walked back to the car, Boone’s hand trailed down to her hip, her thumb brushing the bare skin just above the skirt’s waistband. “You know, you really do clean up nicely,” she said, her voice thick with a fake affection that made Lynda’s skin crawl.
Lynda forced another smile. “Thanks,” she murmured, trying to ignore the way the leather
Once back in the car, Boone’s hand didn’t leave her, instead sliding around to caress her stomach. “You’re going to make me so proud,” she whispered, her voice thick with something that sounded almost like affection, but the coldness in her eyes told a different story.
Lynda’s heart raced as she tried to think of an escape plan, her mind racing through every possible scenario. But with each passing moment, she felt more trapped, more entangled in the web Boone had spun. They drove to a quiet part of town, the silence between them deafening. Boone parked the car and turned to her with a wicked smile.
“We’re just going to say hi to a couple of old friends.”
The words hung in the air, thick with menace. Boone’s smile didn’t reach her eyes as she opened the car door, the chilly breeze caressing Lynda’s bare skin like a taunt. They were in a run-down part of town at a no-tell motel, the kind of place where no one asked questions.
Lynda’s knees threatened to give out as she stepped onto the cracked sidewalk. It was a single-story affair. Boone led her to the room furthest from the reception.
The door was unlocked, and Boone pushed it open, revealing a dingy room that smelled of cigarettes and despair. Two figures were lounging on the bed. Lynda recognized both of them immediately. Officer Johnson, the man whose rape had initiated her descent and, dear god, Becky Wilson, one of the cheerleaders from her school.
Becky was naked and her hair looked disheveled. She had obviously been on the receiving end of Johnson’s attentions. She looked shocked to see her music teacher.
“Miss Forrester!” she gasped, trying to cover herself with a pillow.
Lynda’s heart plummeted at the sight of Becky, feeling a mix of horror and pity. Boone chuckled, shutting the door behind them.
“Looks like we’re crashing the party,” she said, her eyes gleaming.
Lynda’s stomach churned at the sight of Becky, who had clearly been through the same ordeal as she had. She wanted to run to the girl, to comfort her, to tell her it would be okay, but she knew it was a lie. Nothing would ever be okay again.
Officer Johnson looked up, a sneer on his face as he took in her outfit. “Well, well, well,” he said, his voice a lecherous growl. “Looks like you’ve found yourself in good company.”
Lynda’s stomach turned at the sight of Becky, so young and terrified. She wanted to scream, to tell Becky to run, but the words remained trapped in her throat.
“Remember I told you I traded you for a dumb, young slut? Well, meet the dumb young slut who killed a homeless person in a hit and run.”
Lynda’s mind raced as she took in Becky’s terrified expression, her eyes wide with shock and fear. The room was a mess, the bed rumpled, and the air thick with the smell of sex and sweat. The horror of the situation settled into her bones, weighing her down like a leaden blanket.
“You,” Becky choked out, her voice shaking. “You’re…with her?”
Lynda couldn’t bring herself to speak. The betrayal etched on Becky’s face was a mirror to her own, a silent scream of pain and confusion. But she knew that any protest, any attempt to connect, would only make things worse.
“Yeah, she’s a quick learner,” Boone said with a sadistic smirk. “Aren’t you, baby?”
Lynda felt the pressure of Boone’s hand on her waist, her nails digging into the skin, as she was pushed towards the bed. Becky’s eyes searched hers for help, but Lynda knew there was none to give. Not here, not like this.
“Take off the glasses,” Boone ordered, her voice a dark whisper.
Lynda’s hands shook as she slipped the sunglasses off her face, the room’s harsh light exposing her bruises and the fear in her eyes. Becky’s gaze fell to the floor, and she bit her lip, a silent plea for mercy that hung in the air like a scream.
Officer Johnson stood, his naked form a testament to the depravity that had taken place in this room. He sauntered over to them, his hand reaching out to grab Becky’s chin, forcing her to look at him. “You two are going to get to know each other a little better.”
Lynda felt a surge of anger and disgust. She had to do something, say something, to break this cycle of abuse. But fear held her tongue, her mind racing for a way to save Becky without endangering her son.
“Strip.” ordered Boone as herself and Johnson made themselves comfortable in a couple of armchairs. Johnson had other ideas, however.
“No. Let Becky do it.” he smiled sadistically.
Lynda felt bile rise in her throat as Becky’s trembling hands moved to the hem of her shirt. The girl’s eyes were filled with a mix of fear and anger as she slowly lifted it over her head, revealing Lynda’s naked breasts. The chill in the room seemed to bite harder, but it was nothing compared to the icy grip of fear that held her in place.
“Now, now, don’t be shy,” Boone chuckled, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “We’re all friends here.”
“Get on your knees and take off her skirt.” said Boone, “But leave the on the heels.” Johnson looked at her with approval.
Becky’s eyes were glossy with unshed tears as she reached for the zipper of the leather skirt, her shaking hands struggling to get a grip. The sound of the zipper echoed through the room like a gunshot, and Lynda felt a cold wave of dread wash over her. She took a deep breath, trying to stay composed as Becky’s trembling fingers slid the skirt down her legs, leaving her in nothing but her heels.
“Good girl,” Boone purred, her eyes never leaving the scene playing out before her. “Now, why don’t you both get cozy on the bed?”
Lynda’s legs felt like jelly as she stepped out of the skirt, the cold floor beneath the heels adding to her misery. She couldn’t bear to look at Becky, the pain in her own heart too much to handle. Boone watched with a twisted sense of enjoyment, her eyes flicking between them as if they were merely toys to be played with.
“Now, Becky,” Boone said, her voice a silky purr, “You know what to do.”
Becky’s eyes were cast downward, but she nodded, her body visibly trembling. She took a step towards Lynda, her hands reaching out tentatively to grasp sides of Lynda’s face and draw her in for a kiss.
The kiss was awkward, filled with the taste of fear and despair. Lynda felt the girl’s body shake against her own, the tremors passing from Becky to her and back again. It was a silent plea, a desperate attempt to find some semblance of humanity in the hell they had both been cast into.
Johnson leaned back in his chair, his hand moving to stroke his erection, a sadistic smile playing on his lips. “That’s right, show her who’s boss,” he said, his voice thick with lust. Boone’s eyes never left them, her gaze burning into their very souls as Becky’s trembling hands began to explore Lynda’s naked body.
Lynda closed her eyes, trying to shut out the sight of Becky’s forced submission. She knew that the girl had no choice, just as she had none. But the feel of Becky’s soft, trembling touch was too much to bear, and she had to fight the urge to push her away.
“That’s it,” Boone encouraged, her voice low and hungry. “Make her feel good.”
Lynda felt a tear slip down her cheek as Becky’s hands travelled over her, the girl’s touch tentative and fearful. Becky’s eyes remained locked on hers, a silent apology in their depths. Lynda knew she had to keep it together, for both their sakes.
“Now, Miss Forrester,” Boone said, her voice a sultry purr, “Why don’t you return the favor?”
Lynda felt the room spin as she ran her hands over Becky’s body. Her mind was screaming, but she knew she had to play along. With a deep, shaky breath, she leaned in and kissed Becky back, trying to find some semblance of comfort in the shared horror of their situation.
Their kiss grew more urgent, driven by desperation rather than passion. Boone and Johnson watched, their eyes greedy and predatory. The taste of Becky’s fear mixed with Lynda’s own, creating a toxic cocktail that threatened to overwhelm her. But she kept going, her hands moving to Becky’s body, her touch as gentle as she could make it.
“That’s it,” Boone murmured, her voice a siren’s call. “Now, really give us a show.”
With a sense of dread, Lynda knew what was expected of her. She had to go through with this.
For Becky’s sake, she had to keep the facade of willingness, had to make Boone believe she enjoyed this. So she deepened the kiss, her hands moving over Becky’s slender body, tracing the lines of the girl’s youthful figure. Becky’s touch grew more assured, her hands mimicking the movements Boone had taught her, a silent scream of protest echoing through the room.
The bed creaked under their weight as they moved closer, their bodies pressed together in a mockery of intimacy. The sight was too much for Boone and Johnson, who were now openly masturbating, their eyes glued to the scene unfolding before them.
Lynda’s hands slid down Becky’s body, her own mind detached from the horror of the moment. She had to keep going, had to keep the facade up. Her hands found Becky’s breasts, her thumbs flicking over the hardened nipples in a practiced motion. Becky gasped, her eyes closing in a mix of pain and resignation.
“Look at her Becky,” Boone ordered, her voice sharp. “Look at how much she wants you.”
Becky’s eyes snapped open, and she stared at Lynda with a mix of desperation and anger. But Lynda’s gaze remained focused on Becky’s, willing her to understand that this was a performance, a twisted dance they had to play out to survive.
“Now, Miss Forrester,” Boone said, her voice thick with desire, “Why don’t you show Becky what a good teacher you really are?”
Lynda’s stomach churned at the words, but she knew what was expected. With trembling hands, Becky reached up to cup Lynda’s face, her touch a silent promise that she would do as she was told.
Lynda took a deep breath and began to perform, her mouth moving down Becky’s neck, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin. Becky’s breath hitched, a tear slipping down her cheek, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned into the kisses, her own hands moving to caress Lynda’s bare back.
“Good, good,” Johnson grunted, his eyes glued to the show. “Show us what you’ve got.”
Lynda’s heart was racing, but she forced herself to keep going, her mouth moving down Becky’s body, her tongue tracing a path of fire across the girl’s trembling flesh. Becky’s hands clutched at the bed covers, her knuckles white with the effort of not pushing her away. The taste of fear and tears mingled with the sweetness of Becky’s skin, and Lynda felt a wave of nausea wash over her.
“Look at them,” Boone said to Johnson, her voice a mix of excitement and challenge. “It’s like watching two little sluts in heat.”
Lynda’s stomach twisted at the words, but she forced herself to continue, her mouth moving lower on Becky’s body. Becky’s hands found Lynda’s hair, holding onto her tightly as if she could somehow find solace in the lie of pleasure.
“Yes, that’s it,” Boone urged, her own hand moving faster as she watched the scene play out. “Make her beg for it.”
Lynda’s mind raced, trying to find a way out of this nightmare. She knew she had to keep Boone and Johnson satisfied, had to give them what they wanted. So she focused on Becky’s reaction, trying to gauge how much she could push without breaking the girl completely. Her mouth moved to Becky’s breast, her tongue circling the peak, and Becky’s body tensed.
“Please,” Becky whispered, her voice shaking.
“It’s okay,” she murmured, her voice a shaky promise. “We’re in this together.”
Becky’s hand trembled as she touched Lynda’s chest, her eyes never leaving hers. The connection between them grew stronger with every beat of their racing hearts. It was a silent pact of survival, a thread of hope in the dark abyss that was their reality.
Lynda took Becky’s hand in hers and brought it to her mouth, kissing her palm gently.
“Make her scream,” Johnson urged, his voice thick with lust.
Lynda’s eyes narrowed with determination, her jaw clenching as she took Becky’s hand and guided it between her legs. The girl’s eyes widened with shock, but she didn’t pull away. Lynda
“Good,” Boone murmured, her eyes hooded with pleasure. “Make her come for us.”
The room was a cacophony of harsh breaths and the slap of skin against skin. Lynda kissed Becky with more passion than she had ever felt for Boone, her tongue delving into the girl’s mouth as she guided Becky’s hand to mimic her own movements.
Lynda’s heart ached, her own need to survive warring with the desire to save Becky from further degradation. But she knew that any sign of weakness would only make it worse. So she kissed Becky harder, her hand guiding Becky’s to be more forceful, her own body responding despite her mind’s screaming protests.
Becky’s eyes searched hers, a silent question of how much further they had to go. Lynda gave her a small nod, a silent encouragement to keep playing along. With a shaky breath, Becky’s hand moved faster, her own body reacting to the forced intimacy.
“That’s it,” Boone coached, her eyes glinting with excitement. “Show us what good little sluts you are.”
The words were like acid in the air, but Lynda forced herself to ignore the burning in her chest. She had to keep playing the game, had to keep Becky safe. With a tremble in her voice, she whispered, “You’re doing so good, Becky.”
Becky’s hand grew more insistent, the rhythm increasing as Boone’s voice grew more demanding. “Harder,” she ordered. “Make her cum for us.”
Lynda’s body responded despite the horror, her orgasm building like a crescendo in a symphony of pain and fear. She bit her lip, trying to hold back the scream that threatened to escape. Becky’s eyes never left hers, the unspoken promise of shared torment echoing in their gazes.
“Cum for us,” Boone whispered, her voice a seductive hiss.
Lynda’s eyes never left Becky’s, their silent understanding the only thing keeping her anchored to reality. Her body was a puppet to Boone’s commands, but her mind was her own. With a final, desperate effort, she willed her body to respond, to give Becky the release she needed to keep going, to survive this ordeal.
Their breaths mingled, their hearts racing in a symphony of fear and forced pleasure. Becky’s hand grew more confident, the movements more deliberate as she watched for any sign of Lynda’s distress. The tension in the room was palpable, a thick fog of despair that seemed to cling to their naked flesh.
Lynda felt the beginnings of a climax, the sensation a betrayal to her own soul. But she knew it was necessary, a part of the act that kept Becky from further harm. With a shudder, she arched her back, a silent cry escaping her lips. Boone’s eyes lit up at the sight, her own hand moving faster between her legs.
“Look at her,” Boone said to Johnson, her voice filled with pride. “Look how much she loves it.”
Lynda’s eyes remained locked on Becky’s, the pain in her gaze a stark contrast to the fake moans that filled the room. Becky’s hand moved faster, the tremors in her body growing stronger as she approached her own climax.
“Good girl,” Boone praised, her voice thick with lust. “Now, show us how much you want it.”
Becky’s face was a mask of pain and humiliation, but she nodded, her hand moving faster and more insistently. The sound of Boone and Johnson’s own masturbation grew louder, their eyes glued to the scene unfolding before them.
Lynda felt the beginnings of Becky’s orgasm, the girl’s body tensing and then releasing in a silent scream of despair. It was a harrowing moment, a stark reminder of the power dynamics at play. As Becky’s tremors subsided, she collapsed against Lynda, their bodies tangled together in a mess of sweat and tears.
Boone’s voice was smug. “Very good,” she said, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Now, why don’t you two clean each other up? Use your tongues”
.
The command was degrading, but it was clear Becky knew the drill. She looked at Lynda with a mix of apology and resignation before leaning down to kiss her, her tongue sliding out to taste the salty tears that still clung to her skin. Lynda felt the bile rise in her throat but swallowed it down, returning the kiss with a fierce determination to survive.
“Time to learn a new trick.” said Boone, “69”
Lynda’s heart sank as she felt Becky’s body go rigid with fear. But there was no time for comfort, no time to ease into the next twisted act of their performance. Boone was the puppet master, and they were her marionettes.
With a deep, shaky breath, Becky complied, moving her body so that she knelt over Lynda’s face and her face hovered over Lynda’s pussy.
Lynda’s stomach churned as Becky’s trembling fingers touched her, the coldness of their shared fear sending shivers down her spine. But she knew she had to play along, had to make this believable. She wrapped her arms around Becky’s thighs, drawing her closer, her mouth moving to Becky’s own sex with a fervor that was as much for Boone and Johnson’s benefit as it was a silent declaration of their unity in the face of this hell.
Becky’s mouth followed Boone’s command, her tongue tentatively touching Lynda’s clit. The taste of fear and salt on her skin was a bitter reminder of their reality, but Lynda focused on the girl’s trembling body, the way she tried so hard to keep it together.
Their movements grew more frantic as they performed for their audience, their bodies entwined in a grotesque parody of intimacy.
Lynda’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, trying to find a way out of this twisted game. But the fear of what Boone and Johnson were capable of kept her actions in check. She had to keep Becky safe, had to make it through this. So she moaned, her own body responding against her will, her mouth and tongue mimicking pleasure while her heart was a shattered mess.
Becky’s trembling grew more pronounced, her own forced orgasm a stark contrast to the silent sobs that racked her body. Lynda’s eyes remained closed, the taste of Becky’s fear on her tongue, a constant reminder of the horror they were enduring. The sound of Boone and Johnson’s grunts grew closer, and she knew she had to keep up the facade.
“Fuck,” Johnson grunted, his hand a blur over his erection. “You bitches are so hot.”
Lynda’s mind was a screaming void, her body moving on instinct, responding to Becky’s touch, the fear a constant undercurrent. Becky’s eyes were squeezed shut, tears leaking from the corners, her hand moving between her music teacher’s legs with a desperation that made Lynda’s stomach twist.
Johnson’s voice grew louder, his breathing ragged. “Yeah, just like that,” he groaned. “Make her cum on your face.”
Becky’s tremors grew stronger, her body betraying her as she approached her second climax, forced by the hands of her tormentors. Lynda felt a tear slide down her cheek, her own body responding despite the horror of their situation. The taste of Becky’s despair was overwhelming, but she had to keep going.
With a final, desperate push, Becky’s body convulsed, a strangled sob escaping her as she came against Lynda’s face.
“That’s it,” Boone cooed, her own climax approaching. “Such good little sluts.”
Lynda’s stomach roiled, but she kept her face a mask of lust, licking Becky’s juices off her own skin as if it were a delicacy. The smell of sex and fear filled the room, a nauseating perfume that seemed to drive their captors wild.
Johnson was the first to climax, his seed spurting onto the floor, a sign of his own lack of self-control. Boone followed soon after, her eyes glazed over as she came, watching the two girls who were now a tangled mess of sweat, tears, and desperation.
As the sickening sounds of their captors’ pleasure subsided, Becky collapsed beside Lynda, their bodies a tapestry of bruises and despair. The silence that followed was almost as deafening as the cacophony that had filled the room moments ago.
Lynda turned to Becky; her eyes filled with a fierce protectiveness. She pulled the younger girl into a gentle embrace, whispering soothing words into her ear. “You’re so brave,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “We’re going to get out of here.”
Becky’s sobs grew quieter, her trembling body slowly calming against the warmth of Lynda’s chest. They lay there, entwined in a silent promise of solidarity, their breathing slowly syncing as they tried to find some semblance of peace in the aftermath of their forced performance.
The room was a minefield of emotions, a stark contrast to the cold, clinical atmosphere of the motel. The air was thick with the scent of their fear and the unwanted intimacy that had been forced upon them.
Boone and Johnson, now sated, sat back in their chairs, watching the two women with a twisted sense of satisfaction. “Looks like you two are getting along nicely,” Boone said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Get dressed.”
Lynda’s legs felt like lead as she helped Becky to her feet, both of them moving in slow, deliberate motions as they pulled on their discarded clothes. The fabric stuck to their sweat-slicked skin, a stark reminder of the violation they’d just endured.
“Hurry up,” Johnson barked, his voice cutting through the heavy silence.
Lynda’s hands shook as she helped Becky into her clothes, each piece a layer of armor against the monsters that had invaded their bodies and minds. Becky’s eyes were vacant, lost in a world of pain that Lynda knew all too well.
“Hurry up,” Boone repeated, her tone impatient. “We’re not done for the day yet.”
Lynda and Becky dressed as quickly as they could, their movements stiff and mechanical.
“I wonder how that little video will turn out.” queried Boone with a sadistic smile.
Lynda’s head snapped up in shock. She looked around the room for any sign of a camera.
“It’s behind the mirror.” said Boone.
Lynda’s eyes widened in horror, her gaze flicking to the reflective surface and back to Becky, whose face had gone ashen. The realization that their degradation had been recorded was almost too much to bear. On top of the other videos of her, they now had one of her having sex with one of her students.
“You’re going to love watching this again and again,” Boone said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “It’ll be like having your own little porno to jerk off to.”
Lynda felt the bile rise in her throat, but she had to keep it down. The last thing she wanted was to give these monsters the satisfaction of seeing her break. She took Becky’s hand, giving it a squeeze that was both comforting and reassuring.
“It’s okay,” she murmured, her voice a hoarse whisper. “We’ll get through this.”
Becky nodded, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. The two of them stood side by side, a silent testament to their shared trauma as they faced Boone and Johnson, who were both rearranging their clothes with an air of nonchalance.
“Come on,” Boone said, her voice still thick with lust. “We have more fun planned for today. You don’t want to keep us waiting, do you?”
Boone and Johnson led their respective toys to their vehicles, and with a mutual promise to see each other at work on the next shift, drove off in different directions.
Boone turned to Lynda as they sat in the car.
“You did good,” she said, her voice still laced with a hint of satisfaction. “Very convincing.”
Lynda nodded numbly, her eyes staring straight ahead. The drive home was a blur of traffic lights and the mundane sounds of the city waking up. The reality of their situation was like a noose tightening around her neck with every passing second. Boone’s hand rested on her thigh, a constant reminder of her control.
When they arrived at Lynda’s house, the sun was well over the horizon, casting a sickly pallor over the quiet street. Boone’s grip on her arm was firm as she led her inside, the house feeling cold and foreign after their morning.
“Coffee?” she offered, her tone mockingly cheerful.
Lynda nodded; her voice still lost to the horrors of the morning. The kitchen was a stark contrast to the motel room, with its clean lines and the comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee. She sat at the table, her legs shaking as she watched Boone move around with a disturbing ease.
“Sugar?” Boone held up the bowl, her smile a twisted caricature of kindness.
Lynda nodded, her voice a mere croak. “No, thank you.”
Boone set two cups on the table and sat across from her, sipping her coffee with a satisfied smack of her lips. “When are you picking Mark up from his sleepover?” she asked with feigned innocence.
Lynda’s heart skipped a beat. Mark. Her son. The one piece of her life she hadn’t allowed Boone to corrupt. Yet. “Six o’clock,” she managed to murmur, her eyes not meeting Boone’s.
“You need a shower.” Boone stepped around the counter and took a long, deep sniff. “I can still smell Becky on you.”
The words were a knife to Lynda’s gut, but she kept her composure. “I’ll go take one now.”
“Good,” Boone said, patting her cheek. “I don’t want my little slut smelling like anyone else.”
The word ‘slut’ stung like a slap, but Lynda kept her face neutral, pushing herself to her feet. The walk to the bathroom was a marathon of pain and humiliation. She could feel Boone’s eyes on her, watching her every move, enjoying her defeat.
The shower washed away the evidence of their sick games, but not the memories. The hot water scalded her skin, a futile attempt to cleanse the dirt from her soul. Her mind raced with thoughts of Mark, her sweet, innocent son. The idea of Boone’s influence reaching him was unbearable.
Lynda emerged from the bathroom, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen. Boone lounged on the bed, scrolling through her phone, her posture one of lazy entitlement. She glanced up, a smirk playing on her lips. “Feeling better?”
“Yes,” Lynda lied, her voice flat. She wrapped herself in a towel, her body feeling more vulnerable than ever.
“You don’t need the towel when it’s just us here, lose it.”
Lynda felt a shiver run down her spine but complied, dropping the towel to the floor. She forced herself to walk over to Boone with as much dignity as she could muster, her bare feet cold on the floor. Boone’s eyes raked over her, a predatory gleam in them that made her skin crawl.
“Now, sit,” Boone ordered, patting the bed next to her. “We’re going to talk about the future.”
Lynda’s legs felt like they were made of jelly, but she obeyed, sitting down with her knees pressed tightly together. The fabric of the couch was rough against her freshly shaved skin, sending a jolt of discomfort through her body.
Lynda’s heart hammered in her chest. She knew what was coming. The unspoken threat that had been hanging over her since the first day of this nightmare had finally been voiced. Boone had been biding her time, watching her squirm, enjoying the power she held over her.
“I have a little party to go to tonight, and it’s my turn to bring the party favor…”
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