The keeper - illustrated bondage story, part 17

He sandwiched her between him and the back seat window on the passenger side, unlocked the door, and hustled her in. Only then did she start to panic, but it was too late. The closing of the door cut off her frst, new scream.

As he ran around to the driver’s side, she tried throw- ing the sunglasses off by shaking her head, pounding the door with her shoulder, but then he was in. He quickly dropped her seat back so she was lowered beneath the window. She wiggled and contorted,, but the seat belt held her enough. Besides, it was almost three o’clock in the morning.

The engine hummed to life. He pulled out into the street, and drove away. No one saw him. Dana kept screaming and struggling for all she was worth, but the sunglasses stayed on and the raincoat stayed closed ... except for the hem, which fopped open to show him all her bound, twisting legs moving just below the red hem of her amazingly sexy dress. “That’s all right, Momma,” he said, and turned on the radio.

By the time they got to his house, Dana was exhausted. The gag cut off her air, and the ropes her circulation. She tried to fght when he opened her door and pulled her out onto the sidewalk, but just didn’t have the strength to appear anything but frisky.

He walked her up to the FRONT door of the house, and made her stand there (holding her arm) as he wiped his feet. Only then did he open the door and guide/push her in.

His mother was up, watching television. Her chair was in the corner beside the front door. He closed the door behind him. The windows were shaded and curtained, while the door was plain wood. Once it closed, Dana was sealed in. She stood there like a blind girl, her chin pointed toward the ceiling.

“Hello, dear,” said the old woman. “Who do we have here?” Dana started in place when she heard the female voice.

“A friend of mine,” he answered, quickly undoing the raincoat belt and buttons.

“Really?” the old woman said. “She’s quite attractive, dear. Are you having a relationship?”

Dana started babbling in shock. He ignored the muffed words and crinkling gag. “You could say that,” he answered. “Let’s just say we’re more than friends, all right?” He pushed Dana against the wall, and undid the remaining raincoat buttons. She just stood there, her head back and rocking as she muttered behind the tape in disbelief.

“What a lovely face,” said the woman. He threw open the coat. Dana stood there in the clinging, secondskin red minidress; her long, tanned, frm, shapely legs accentuated by the killer high heel shoes. “And what a lovely body!” the old woman continued. “I’ll say,” he answered pulling the coat completely off.

“Quite fexible,” the old woman noted,, seeing how her arms were pinioned. Her gaze went down her torso. “And buoyant as well!”

Dana started to slide down the wall. He grabbed her by the arms and held her up. “Very fexible,,” he agreed. ‘Let me see her eyes, dear,” said the old woman. With one hand he pulled off the shades. Dana’s deep, rich brown eyes were wide and unseeing.

“Contacts?” the old woman asked. “Far sighted,” he explained. “Excellent,” said the old woman. Dana started pleading with her. “What do you have in there, son?” the woman asked. “I can almost make out words.”

“Panty shields,” he answered, Dana not even listening. “It did the trick.”

“Yes, yes,” the woman replied. “Shut her up dear.”

He put his hand under her jaw, his fingers vertically over her mouth, and pushed her head against the wall. Not hard: just enough to cut off her hysteria. She stood here, stiffened. He saw goose bumps rise on her arms and chest. She started sucking in deep breaths through her nose, making her ample chest swell in the neckline of the ridiculously tight dress.

“She’ll be staying a while, if that’s all right,” he said.

“Of course,” said the woman. “Is she prepared for it?”

He smiled and curled two fngers around the dress hem. He lifted it just far enough to show the woman Dana’s uncovered cunt. She felt the air on it, but did nothing.

“Perfectly trimmed,” the woman commented. “Excellent.”

“I have a bag in the car,” he said. “She has very nice things.’ “Wonderful,’ said the woman. “Bring her upstairs ... and make sure she is COMPLETELY settled. Can’t have her disturbing me during the night.” “Of course, Momma,” he said, taking Dana by the arm.

“Then come right down here, honey,” said the woman. “We have to discuss something very important.” He didn’t like the way she said that, so he took a knife out of his jacket pocket, and cut open Dana’s leg bindings. It wasn’t hard. Her legs were as far apart as they’d go so she could remain upright. Then he hustled her to the enclosed staircase. He pushed her up the steps as she bleated and cried out, until they reached the door to the attic.

Holding her around the waist, he pulled open that door, ficked on the light, and dragged her up the remaining eight steps.

The area was completely covered in mattresses except for the space the wide brick chimney took up. The ceiling supports were all thick beams of round wood, off of which hung leather and rubber straps, as well as rope. There were piles of hemp, cord, and tape in every corner, as well as more iron rings bolted in the foor. They poked out between mattresses here and there.

He pushed Dana down, wrapped his arms around her ankles even before she had settled or stopped screaming, and went to work.