LORNA AND THE LAW
by V.P. Viddler
"Mmmphh-mmmphh," Lorna said.
"No," I said. "I like you that way."
"Mmmm -- Mm --"
"I love it," I said. And I did. My cock was standing up, throbbing. "I'll
have to gag you all the time."
"Nnngghh," Lorna said.
"Christ. If you could only move, I'd have you pull my cock out right now.
And go down on it, gag and all."
But Lorna couldn't do that, not the way I had her tied on the car seat
next to me. Driving through the night with my Lorna sitting at my side,
unmoving. With her hands lashed behind her back. And her ankles pinioned
tightly, held still by ropes clamped to the floorboards. And with her long
lustrous brown hair tied too, fastened to her pulled-back wrists. Making Lorna
hold her head high, pulling it back slightly, not allowing her to look down, or
even to turn to look at me, or out the window. Not without a gasp of pain. But
that occasional gasp, or moan, or whimper, through the gag, always made my cock
jump. And with Lorna's snug blouse, pulling so tightly across her straining,
quivering, beckoning breasts. And with Lorna's skirt riding high, high over her
luscious, curving, lust-rousing thighs. Lorna. Unmoving as I drove through the
night. Lorna gagged. But not silent. Whimpering. Moaning. Wordlessly pleading.
Lorna was not fond of being gagged.
And I was fond of doing things that Lorna was not fond of.
My cock was throbbing. I put my right hand on Lorna's bare thigh. The
hand with the cigarette in it. I felt the thigh tighten. "Mmm-mmmphh. Mmm-mmm.
Nnnghh." From that muffled mouth. Lorna's breasts were rising and falling in
rapid apprehension. Lorna's soft smooth thigh flexing, twitching. Lorna trying
to shake her head, hissing at the pain in her scalp.
"Christ," I said. Anticipating. Anticipating the stiffening, straining
body, the helpless, twisting torment, the full-throated scream that would sound
as a tiny, ragged mewling through the gag.
And then -- lights. Flashing. And the sound of a siren.
Cops.
I took my hand away from Lorna's thigh, slowing down. Lorna made a
half-mewling, half-grunting sound of panic.
"Cops. I have to stop."
"Nnnghh! Nnn-nnnhh! Nnnggghhh!"
"No way out," I said. "Just play it cool." Not that Lorna could do
anything at all about it.
"Nn-nn-nn-nunnghh." Twisting, squirming, hurting herself trying to pull
away. Panting noisily through the gag. "Unngghh- unnnghh," brokenly as I slowed
and stopped. As the car behind us pulled up and a cop in uniform got out,
holding a flashlight.
"Nn-unhh mmm!" Lorna said frantically.
"Oh, no. No, Lorna. You're the only card I have right now."
Lorna tried to look at me, but couldn't turn that far. I heard the air go
out of her. Saw her sinking in despair against the seat. And now the cop was at
my window.
"What's the problem, officer?"
"You know how fast you were going?"
How could I? About to inflict that burning pain on my captive plaything
Lorna, my foot had lost all sense of proportion on the accelerator. Now he
would ask for my license and registration. That would not be good.
"Sorry, officer. I didn't know. You see, I was having such a fascinating
conversation with this young lady --"
Now the flashlight, shining on me, then moving. To Lorna. A loud gasp of
astonishment from the cop. "Jesus Christ!" The flashlight on Lorna's face, then
moving down her body. Her helplessly tied, leggy, full-breasted, luscious body.
And back up to her face. The wide, staring eyes. The tautly pulled hair. And
the gagged, fully stuffed, forcibly wide-open mouth.
"Holy Christ!" the cop said, almost dropping the flashlight, but not
quite. "What -- what the fuck is going on here?"
"Not a thing, officer. My lady friend and I are just playing a bit of a
game."
"A game! Jesus H. Christ!" Now the cop left my window to walk swiftly
around the car to Lorna's side. He shone his light into her window, again
moving it slowly down that pinioned body, and back to her face. He started to
speak, but had to clear his throat first.
"Miss," he said at last. "Miss -- are you -- I mean -- is this man
kidnapping you? Abducting you?"
"Nn," Lorna said.
"What?"
Lorna shook her head. But it wouldn't shake very far, and with each tiny
turn back and forth, the pull on her hair brought sounds from Lorna.
"Nhh-nnghh-nunn," Lorna said. "Nhh-nnhh- mumphh."
"No?"
"Certainly not," I said. "It's just that she is my -- my plaything, you
might say."
"Plaything. Christ. You play rough, mister. Jesus." Again the flashlight
toured Lorna's shapely form. "Shit. This girl is -- she can't move, can she?"
"No," I said. "That's part of the point, you know."
"Yeah, huh? And she can't use her hands, right?"
"Right."
"And she can't talk."
"That's right."
"Or scream or anything."
"No, she can't."
"She can't do anything. No matter what you do."
"No matter what anybody does," I said.
"Mmmpphh," Lorna said. "Nngghh. Nnnggh."
"I could do things to her," the cop said. "And she can't do anything
about it."
"That's right."
"And you know what I think, mister? I think you can't do anything about
it either."
"You're probably right," I said. "With you being an officer of the law,
and having a gun and all."
"Fuckin' A," the cop said.
Lorna made a kind of low whinnying sound through her nostrils, and I
could hear her panting in fright.
"Let's try something," the cop said, and the hand that was not holding
his flashlight now reached through Lorna's open window. It reached for Lorna's
breast. That round high firm sexy bra-less breast, outlined so fully by the
tightly stretching blouse, the hard, pointing nipple sharply defined through
the soft thin cotton. The cop molded his hand over that breast, around it,
holding it, testing it, then mauling it., through that taut material. And then
letting go of it. Only to grasp at that protruding nubbin of nipple. Grasp it
and take it, holding it between his fingers. His thumb and first finger,
actually. Holding it. And then, slowly but most firmly, squeezing. Clamping.
Crushing. Hard. Very hard. Just as hard, I would say, as it was possible for
him to do.
I watched. As Lorna's eyes went wide. As Lorna's body stiffened,
straining, then shaking, then pulling, or trying to pull, upwards. Frantically
trying to fight the strong cords that bound her. Body arching up from the car
seat, straining tautly in agony. Agony. As the cop did not stop. His fingers
white with the pressure, quivering with it, Lorna straining wildly, vainly,
helplessly. Bare thighs spasming with pain and furious, futile effort. Torso
jerking madly. Head pulled back, far back, with the terrible pulling of that
bound hair as she bucked and rocked and arched like a bow with the agonizing,
unstoppable pain.
And Lorna, my Lorna, said: "Mm. Nnngghh. Nn-n-nnnuhhgg! Nngghh! Nuhh.
Ngugghh. Nnnnggghhh! Ngngng! NNNNGGGHH! NGNGNGNGUH! Mmphh! Nunnggngngnghh!
NUNNNGGGMMGGGUNNGGHHH! NGANGANNNGGHHANUNGNGNGNNNGGG! GGGGHGHH!
GYANNGGYANNGGHHH! GHGHGHGHGH -- NNNNNNN! NNGGHHHHNNNNGGGHH! NGGANGGH. NGANG.
HUHN. HUHN. NGUNGH. UNNGHUNNG. Hnnnhh. Hnnnhh. Nnnggh. Nngh. Nngh. Nngh. Nn-nn.
Nn-nn-nnhh. NNGH. HUNNG. NNnnn."
"Christ H. Jesus," the cop said.
"I was just about to burn her on the thigh when you came along," I said.
"Do it," the cop said.
Lorna said the usual things, only a bit more frantically, a bit more
pleadingly, with all the horror of hell in her beautiful brown eyes.
So I did it.
The cop and I both watched Lorna and listened to Lorna. For a long time.
"I want to see her tits," the cop said.
"Why not?" I said, and I ripped Lorna's blouse open. Lorna was crying. I
tore her skirt off too. Lorna's thighs gleaming.
"I want her," the cop said.
"I don't want to untie her."
"No. Don't. But take that gag out."
"She'll scream."
"I don't think so." The cop took out his gun and put its barrel against
Lorna's head. "You won't scream, lady, will you? Hmm?"
Lorna shook her head. Hard. Crying out through the gag with each painful
shake.
"Take it out," the cop said.
I took the gag out.
"Not a word," the cop said. "Not a fucking sound, lady." He opened the
door and got in, putting his foot on the seat, swinging his other foot over
Lorna's body, straddling her legs, standing on the seat, crouching over. His
crotch toward Lorna's face. He brought his hand to his fly (the hand not
holding the gun -- he had dropped his flashlight on the ground) and pulled at
his zipper. And took out his cock, which was hard, stiff and throbbing -- as
was my own.
"Gag yourself with this, girl," the cop said. "Now!"
And Lorna's whimpering, sobbing mouth opened and his prick stuffed itself
into it.
"Christ!" the cop said.
Lorna was gagged again, as fully as she had been. Painful crying whimpers
around the cock gag as the cop began moving back and forth, his hips swinging
back and forth, slowly, back and forth, his big stiff cock sliding in and out
of Lorna's helpless mouth, all the way in, Lorna gagging, choking; almost all
the way out, Lorna gasping for air through her sobs and whinnyings. On and on,
with Lorna in constant pain as his rhythm pulled at her head, pulling that
bound hair, hurting her scalp. His knees rubbed at her breasts, punishing those
nipples.
"Lorna," I said. "Lorna, darling. When our officer friend shoots his load
in your mouth, I want you to take it right down your throat. I want you to
swallow it, Lorna, swallow it all. All of it. Swallow it down. Do you hear me,
Lorna? Do you?"
And around the plunging, raping prick in her mouth, Lorna said, "Mm-mph."
Which meant yes. Yes, you bastard, I hear you, and I will obey. I will swallow
this man's come, disgusting and nauseating as it may be, horrible as he is, as
much as I hate what he is doing to me, what you are allowing him to do to me
(and loving it all), because I am your slave and you are my master.
"Swallow, Lorna," I said. "Swallow."
I will do it, Lorna's gasping whimpers said. And if you wish to make me
stay this way always, bound and gagged for you, I cannot and will not stop you.
And if you want to show off to this idiot still more, if you want to show him
your power over me, by making me crawl in the dust, crawl through the mud,
naked, and then suck you off in front of him, in front of anybody, I will do
that. If you want to burn my thighs again; if you want to hang me from a tree
limb by my wrists, and whip my body until I scream my lungs out, until I
promise to do anything, anything at all, for anybody, I will not object.
So that's what I did.
All of it.
Now Lorna is crouching at my feet, hands bound in back of her, nude, with
that soft warm mouth surrounding my cock. I want your tongue, Lorna. That's my
girl. All around. Now slowly, Lorna. Up and down. Good. I don't care if your
hair hurts. That's just why I tied it this way. All the way down. Now stay
right there. Lorna's hair taut, pulling, Lorna crying around my cock, tongue
licking my cock, Lorna hurting, Lorna choking, Lorna saying around the stiff
gag, "Nnngghh. Nn-nng-ghughgh-mmphh -- nummnghh." Lorna's tears on my thighs.
Swallow this, my gagging lady...
