Chapter 147 A weak soul

• I kept struggling even when my molester carried me like a sack of potatoes in his broad shoulder, with my head and both arms were hanging upside-down behind his back while my thighs were wrapped in one of his arms to his chest. He walked us to my room. I was weak, but I did not know how I kept my phone securely gripped in my right hand. I was silently praying for any help. I am not a religious person, but I was calling on to all gods I have come to have known in my short existence in this world. I called upon Buddha, Allah, Jesus, the angels, and anyone who could hear my silent plea for help and rescue.
• "Leave me alone...!" I was beyond angered, but my voice was too weak to scare my abuser.
• "Just enjoy yourself," the man laughed sinisterly. "Don't be a hypocrite and deny that you don't like me sucking on this throbbing fat and beautiful treasure for a cock that you have here," he added as he kneeled on the side of my bed, pulling my hips towards him. My butt was almost by the edge of the bed, legs spread wide open as he positioned himself in between my thighs. He sniffed the skin of my legs, one after the other, from my knees to my inner thighs until his lips reached my gracilis, and the tip of his nose bumped with my gonads.