The Precious Cargo
Copyright© 2021 by Ne Obliviscaris
Chapter 10
The man left the bedroom, went into the other room and grabbed several tools of his trade, as it were. As he strode back into the bedroom, he hit the Down button so that the girl was completely flat-footed, standing more normally. Albeit, with a two-and-a-half-foot spreader bar in between her ankles, at least she was able to keep herself pointed in one direction. He looked at her again, admiring her compact, lithe body. He didn’t know if she worked out, or just was naturally physically fit.
Starting at the top, her neck was on the shorter side, but sensitive. The few times he had learned in and whispered into an ear, he made sure to breath on her neck. Each time she had reacted, not pulling away, but subtly tipping her head in the opposite direction, coincidentally extended her neck on the side he was blowing on.
Her shoulders were solid and muscular. If he had to guess, he thought she might be an avid volleyball player. Her chest was clear. He preferred freckles; truth be told. But no freckles, and no moles. He could see her heartbeat and her chest as it rose and fell with each breath.
Her breasts were at least B’s, maybe as much as C-cups, but unlikely. From the side he had noted that they had the teardrop shape of standard breasts. One thing he absolutely despised was fake breasts. A silicon-job, fake booby looked like nothing more than a full balloon, just stuck on a chest. He adored natural breasts, not too large, but not too small to never move, either. This girl’s breasts were just right. As she breathed in and out, they both jiggled, ever so slightly.
Her nipples were still rock-hard. He found himself wondering if she were cold, or excited, and if so, from what? Nervousness about what was to come, or...?
Continuing down, she had a half a six-pack of abdominal muscles. Not meaning only three, but they weren’t yet completely developed. One day, should she survive this, she would be a knockout.
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