The keeper - illustrated bondage story, part 3

He found he wasn’t breathing. It was no wonder. Her face was sweet and serenely beautiful, as only an nineteen year old’s can be. Her breasts had spread, making two perfect orbs high on her chest. Her shape was amazing, as her small waist swooped down into perfect hips and legs. The miniskirt stopped amid the top of her thighs. He wanted to go down on her then.

But she stirred and muttered, so he grabbed for the roll of thick, sticky, dark gray industrial tape in his pocket. He crossed her ankles and, without taking off her shoes, tightly wrapped them. He bent her knees, and wrapped her lower thighs. He took a moment to run his hands under her skirt and over her hips and rear. Then he turned her over. He crossed her wrists behind her, then wrapped them vertically and horizontally, as tight as he could. He turned her back over again. Her eyelids started to futter. He quickly reached into his other pocket and pulled out the cotton balls. He placed them against her eyelids, then ripped off two squares of the tape to keep them there. She nodded, seemingly trying to knock the blinders off instinctively. Then her mouth started to open and close slightly. He could hear her gasp. The fast acting drug was already wearing off. That was fne: it had already done its work.

Finally he reached into his pocket and pulled out the big, stuffed, almost rectangular pincushion he had bought from the local sewing center. It had rounded edges and was stitched closed. He pushed it against her lips and teeth. He used his other hand to open her jaw. He stuffed it into her mouth until it was pushing down her tongue, blocking entry to her throat and flling her cheeks. Then, careful to push her fery hair out of the way, he adhered strips of the tape over her mouth in an X and across.

Melissa bucked, as if waking from a nightmare. He backed up, giving her plenty of room. She sat up, and remained perfectly still, as if trying to see through the blindfold. Then she tried to talk. He heard a little, muffed, mumble. Then she cried out, moving her shoulders, and bending slightly at the waist. She tried to pull her hands forward. She tried to separate her legs. Then she screamed. She screamed and screamed and screamed, contorting for all she was worth. He went behind her on his knees, grabbed either side of her leotard’s neckline, and pulled down. The cloth slid off her chest like a waterfall. The neckline pulled at her nipples and jiggled her breasts. He flled his hands with them, and squeezed. He put one into each of his palms, and twisted. He held her to him, and pulled.

She screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed, he head going back onto her shoulder, sweat covering her brow.

All he heard was a long “aaaaaaah.” He heard a long “mmmmmph.” He reached over her shoulder, grabbing the hem of her skirt, and yanking it up over her crotch. He grabbed at her cunt, but it was double layered. She screamed some more, kicking and bucking. It sounded as if she were shrieking through a mile long pillow.