Trying to struggle, her immobile hands would not move. Her feet were tied. All she could do is send out a muffled cry and shake her head.Then they wer... grasping her. Mort's hands. Pressing against her breasts. Rubbing them up and down. Squeezing them. Molesting them. "No ... No!" was her muffled cry.Mort laughed.Then she froze. Louisa stopped shaking her head. Stopped wiggling her body. Stopped trying to throw him off, even though she was effectively restrained.Louisa froze because his hands. At least he looked the gentleman. His face had lines of worry, age and squinting upon it. His deep blue eyes drew one in especially with the framing of brunet hair that seemed to compliment them so well. He had a strong square jaw and prominent pointed nose. He was clean shaven. Looking at him brought a smile to the young woman’s face, a lustful intimidating smile. A smile that quickly turned into a scowl as her eyes grew hard. “Why aren’t you on your knees worshiping at my feet, slave? . More

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