Joanna started to cry out again as her two assailants threw her bodily over a
horse saddle that lay astride a bale of hay. She landed on her belly, the shock knocking
the wind out of her and briefly stilling her cries. Hans held her down by the arms,
standing before her. Behind her, his mate had his hands on Joanna’s narrow hips, pressing
his groin to her backside, it still covered by the little school skirt. I was unsurprised
to see an obvious bulge in the front of his trousers. What young lad, given the chance to
have his way with a pretty girl of his own age without fear of any consequence, would turn
down the opportunity? He seized Joanna’s skirt at the waistband and roughly pulled it
over her hips and down her legs. Starting to regain her breath, the girl lifted her head,
making a fairly pathetic attempt to free her arms. They were of the same age, but the
lads were much stronger than the slip of a lass who had fallen into their hands. Filled
with the exuberance of youth, they had no qualms about handling her roughly!
“Stop it, please!” Joanna shrieked. “Let me go, you’ve no right! No!” She
screamed for aid at the top of her lungs; but Von Hoffman’s is an isolated place, and the
screams of a girl could never carry far enough. They were enough to annoy her ravishers,
however.
“Shut her up,” Hans snapped. Dieter already had some ideas on the matter. He
took hold of the elastic of her cotton panties and, like the skirt before them, stripped
them down her legs. He bunched them in his left hand and, with his right, forcibly pulled
Joanna’s head back by the hair. The unfortunate youngster screamed in new agony, her
mouth wide, and he quickly thrust the little garment into her mouth. Her screams muffled
by her own underwear, Joanna shook her head from side to side, trying to expel the gag.
In response, the boy reached about her neck to loosen her school tie. He took it in both
hands and placed it over her mouth, pulling it back between her teeth and crossing it
behind her head, effectively securing the gag. “Get her hands up here,” he grunted
breathlessly. With the help of his friend, he crossed Joanna’s wrists behind her head and
bound them tightly together with the ends of her school tie.
This accomplished, the lads stepped back to admire their handiwork. Joanna lay
on her stomach over the saddle, stripped from the waist down; her feet did not quite reach
the floor, so she could only kick helplessly in thin air, or scrabble with her toes
against the hay over which the saddle was slung. Her hands, bound behind her head, were
useless to her. Her cries were swallowed up by her own panties, filling her mouth. Her
smooth, small, white bottom was upraised, nicely and conveniently presented for their
perusal; it writhed appealingly as the girl wriggled on the saddle. Unable to free
herself, she could only wait to suffer whatever torments or pleasures her captors chose to
inflict on her.
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