The keeper - illustrated bondage story, part 10

He watched her get out of the car. As always, she was a colt; longer than Melissa but just as sleek. Instead of a fery mane of red hair, Dana had a short-cropped shield of dark, rich brown around her head, styled so it stopped and curled in at her shoulders. Instead of round mounds high on her chest, Dana had thick, strong sacks that bounced beneath her silky white shirt.

He watched the strong legs beneath the tight, short, gray fannel skirt, move her unerringly toward the back door of the duplex. Getting in had been no problem for him. Dana, so full of life and energy, never thought anyone would take advantage of the lousy security on her place. Half the time she forgot to even lock the back door.

She was a young businesswoman, fresh out of college. She didn’t have enough stuff worthy for a thief to steal. Except herself. And that never even occurred to her.

He had been in there lots of times. He had already gone through her clothes drawers and her closets. He had already searched the house from top to bottom. He knew more about her than she did.

Dana came into the kitchen without a care. She immediately turned on the radio, letting the dance music fll the nearly empty home. Fine with him. Even if he messed up, any cries for help might be camoufaged. She took off her suit jacket and threw it on a chair as she passed. She checked a hanging plant, and decided watering could wait until after she changed. She started up the stairs, humming and singing along with the radio.

Halfway up she realized she should have kicked off her three-inch dark gray high heels at the bottom of the steps, and decided to kick them off as soon as she got to her bedroom. She hopped up the rest of the stairs on her toes, feeling her stockings swish against each other as her legs scissored.

She stopped at the top of the steps and looked at her bedroom door quizzically. She didn’t remember closing it that far this morning. The momentary delay reminded her how bad her eyes felt. She shrugged, made a sudden decision, then headed for the bathroom.

Dana quickly and effciently took out her contact lenses. He watched from the hairline crack in the ajar bedroom door. He saw her clean the lenses, and put them away. He saw her head back toward the bedroom. He saw her strong, elegant hands, with their red-painted nails, gripping the doorframes and walls as she went. He carefully watched her dark, deep, brown eyes narrow.

He realized she was nearly blind. He already knew her glasses were on her bed table. She was coming for them. He smiled, not feeling nervous. After all, she was helping him. She was making it easier.

He watched her approach, feeling the excitement welling up in him. Look at that tiny, belted waist. Look at those long, frm, shapely legs. Look at that strong, big, chest bobbing in the frilly bra under that tight white shirt. Look at those lips: full in the center, curving up in a secret smile at the tips. Look at the straight, small nose. Look at those unfocused, unseeing, big brown eyes. Look at the silky hair, riffing across her head.

Then her hand was at the door. Then it was swinging in. Then she turned left, and reached for her glasses case. He came out from behind the door and tackled her. One arm around her waist, the other arm around her head -- the thick, soft, wet pad in his right hand over her mouth.

The scream was muffed as they fell on the bed. He sandwiched her between his weight and the flly beige bedclothes. They landed, bounced, and settled. She must have thought that she had tripped and fallen deep into the pillows because she didn’t move for a second. It took a moment to sink in that she was being attacked.