Despite it's apparent size and weight, she lifted it like it was nothing, not something Chelsea was used to seeing. Even stranger, she paid no attention to the bound teen on a bed in what presumably was her master bedroom. "Um, Miss Kershaw?" She tried to call out, but her mouth was dry and she coughed once, which was long enough to allow the older woman to exit the room without comment and shut the door, leaving the large cooler at the foot of the bed, out of view.Once the door was closed, the room was again silent except for the sound of a ceiling fan slowly rotating above the bed. Yelling "Help!" at the top of her lungs a few times summoned no assistance, and her bonds obstinately refused to loosen.THUMP. Chelsea started at a loud sound from the foot of the bed, where the cooler had been placed. Craning her neck, she tried to see over the frame, but could only catch a glimpse of the edge of what appeared to be the container's lid laying by itself a couple of feet further. As we held each other, squeezing tight, a little voice kept asking why this felt so different than the time with Daryl. For now, I ignored the question, preferring instead to luxuriate in the reassuring feel and touch of my wife. Just for a moment forgetting the other two men in the suite. One of whom had already fucked my wife, and one of whom almost certainly planned on fucking her before the night was over.Finally, we’d hugged enough to release each other, pulling back so we could look at each other. Jill looked less nervous now, a gentle smile playing around her lips. “Are you okay, honey?” she asked me, my heart skipping a beat with happiness at her concern for my feelings. (I know, stupid after so long together, but at that moment I really needed the reassurance.)Our lips met. I needed this more than answering her question, my smile telling Jill what she needed to know.But my moment of calm and reunion was rudely interrupted, as I felt a rough hand on my left shoulder, turning.
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