“Please don’t call the cops! My boyfriend… he just needed one part for his car and… and I told him I could get it for him. Please, I’m sorry, I’ll leave!” Mandy cried.
“Oh I’m not gonna be calling the cops. You’re not the first person to try sneaking in here and stealing from me. The fucking cops never do anything about it.” Leeroy snarled as he hauled the weeping girl into his garage. “No, you’re gonna fucking pay for that part you tried to steal.”
“But… but I don’t have any money.” Mandy said.
“Well I know another way you can pay.” Leeroy said, and began tearing her t-shirt off her body, tearing huge chunks of fabric away with his calloused hands.
“NOOO! What are you DOING!? STOP!” Mandy said, clinging onto her bra now that her t-shirt was in tatters.
Leeroy viciously backhanded her across the face and tore the bra off as easily as the shirt. His hands latched onto her full, heaving tits, his fingers sinking into the sensitive flesh as he squeezed and twisted her soft orbs.
Tears were running down Wendy’s face as she shivered in agony, the rope cutting between her legs was so tight it was crushing her tiny clit and sawing between her delicate lips, even through her panties.
Why had she stopped for directions here? She should have kept driving and taken her chances instead of stopping at this crusty old service station.
“Well hon, I don’t think I know where Carlstown is, but I do know where the most sensitive parts of a lady are hidden. Now I may be getting on in years, so it takes a lot for my cock to get hard, which means you’re in for lots of… erh… ’foreplay’ I think you ladies call it. Aren’t you lucky?” The mono-toothed hillbilly said as he began digging through his toolbox.