I work for the Sheik

"I work for Sheik Al Makoush," you pull up one of the character's from an old money laundering scam, "I got tired of waiting for these fools, and decided to take a more active role in procuring pretty little American cunts for my master."

"What!?" Chanel's face runs through three or four different emotions before settling on fear. "Help me! Oh my God someone help me!" Her cries of panic are met with laughter from at least two or three different directions.

"You see, Chanel." You tell her with a grin as you unbuckle your belt and drop to your knees behind her. "I'm going to **** the snot out of you, right here where everyone can hear you beg me to stop, and when I'm done I'm going to load you and this pretty boy-toy into my van and get you ready for a whole new life."

"PLEASE! I'm not kidding, someone help me!" Like before her pleas are met with hoots of laughter and to your left one of the other Academy students starts a similar piteous set of cries for help only hers are interrupted by intermittent grunts of pleasure.

"You see how it is bitch?" You run your hands down to her dripping cunt and finger her roughly to open her up a little. The loops of chain pinning her arms to her side make a perfect handle for you to grip as your cock rams into her from behind. "Go ahead and scream, you stuck up cunt. No one's gonna believe you no matter what you say!" God it feels good to **** her like this, it isn't going to take you long to dump a load of seed into her sloppy pussy, and then you'll have to drag her and her friend off to someplace private and call Joey. But for now, you are going to bask in the irony of forcing her when she is so close to help, and yet so far away.

"Sororibus mihi!" She screams suddenly, "Sororibus Mihi!" the phrase means nothing to you, but the tone of the others around you changes instantly, none of the other girls are laughing anymore. You can sense their panic as they wrestle free of the Hamilton men's arms and explain that somethings wrong. Almost immediately you hear at least two of the couples rushing toward your location calling out to Chanel to find out where she is.

You are so fucking close to cumming, but self preservation takes precedence over sexual gratification and you pull away, sprinting for the cover of the cottages clutching your pants in your hand to keep them from falling around your knees. From behind you, comes the sound of pursuit, and some of those damn Hamilton boys must be athletes cause they're fast.