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Open your mouth for daddy!, he growled hastily. I shook my head out of confusion and I felt the sting of his hand whacking my cheek. He shoved his come covered prick inside, choking me as he fucked my throat until I threw up all over myself, collected some of it on the end of his cock and started to deposit it back in my mouth. I was disgusted. More came up onto him. My stomach hurt so badly by that point. He punched me right where it hurt and picked me up in his arms. I was afraid of what was about to happen to me. The one person I was supposed to be able to count on for protection grabbed both of my wrists and wrapped some rope around the headboard of my bed. They were tied together directly above my head. He spit on my face and punched me again. I blacked out after that. When I woke up, his hands were tangled in my hair. My asshole was being tongued and sucked before I realized his cock was resting at its opening. It burned as he slipped it inside, there was nothing I could do to. The newspapers still had headlines about the hosepipe bans; I laughed to see a photo of one chap standing in the River Thames in the west of London throwing a bucket of river water over his new Mark Two Ford Capri to get around the restrictions on washing cars. Then I trotted along the platform and found myself a seat; the train jerked into movement as I opened my book. The journey north passed quickly as I lost myself in the fictional account of the eighteenth century Royal Navy and the American War of Independence.I picked up some bread, butter, cheese, milk and eggs on the way home from the station. The flat was hot, stuffy and airless after our absence; I opened all the windows and things soon improved. I phoned the Carter’s and spoke to Sheila; she thanked me for letting them know I was safely home, and repeated that she’d thoroughly enjoyed the holiday. I told her that I’d also very much enjoyed her; she was more than a little guarded in her response to that, so I guessed that.
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