"You're hurting her!" Annie cried somewhere in the background.

"That's her tough luck, baby. She knew what to expect when she walked in upstairs. And now she don't want it? Tough shit! You were like that at the start, remember? You didn't want me to touch you, didn't want to fuck around with all that shit. Now…"

"Yes." Annie said, worriedly wringing her hands together. "But…"

"Ain't no buts, here," Hank said, backing down, his fingers still twisted in Betty's long blonde hair. The girl's head was drawn back as far as it could go. She blinked, staring up at the ceiling. Never before had she felt such helplessness, such terror. Her feet touched the basement floor. Hank's grip on her hair relaxed. But, when she started back for the stairs once more, he tightened his hold, pulling back on her hair so hard he brought her to her knees.

"Uughhhhh!" Betty grunted in pain.

"Hank!" Annie cried.

"Shut up and get back here."

In a moment, Betty found herself on her back, struggling under the big heavy athlete. He was pulling her hair out, tearing it by the roots while dry fucking her. She felt his tongue on the base of her throat, wiggling back and forth. Through the material of her skirt she could feel his prick rubbing up and down.

"Stop it! Stop!" she screamed.

He was pulling up her skirt, wadding it around her waist while kicking her thighs apart. In a moment she felt his prick better, felt his cock rubbing up against the wet crotch of her panties. All that was keeping his prick from fucking into her cunt was that thin, wet, narrow band of nylon. And he was shoving hard against it, pushing the slick material up against the folds and hollows of her fuckhole!

It made her feel so weird, so spacy! Betty almost forgot about the cold hardness of the concrete floor hurting her back and shoulders.