The keeper - illustrated bondage story, part 34

Dana gargled helplessly, her legs rising slightly and falling back to the solid table. She tried kicking the table legs with the back of her heels, but the shoes made only a minor ticking sound. She jerked on her arms, but her hands remained tightly cinched in the ropes.

Finally the front door closed and the old woman came back to see her son moving his hips back and forth just below the table edge while swirling and folding the bulbous, pendulous orbs tight in his grip.

The old woman smiled. “How many times have I told you,” she said. “Not to play with your food?” Then she went back to lick Dana’s cunt dry.

The next day... When he walked inside the house, the neighbors were already there, having tea. His mother looked up with an expression that said she was glad to see him ... and more.

The window curtains were open. The window shades were up. The late afternoon sunlight streamed into the living room. The neighbors turned their heads toward him, the cups near their lips. They said hello to him. He said hello to them.

He listened very carefully for any sign of any other presence. It was not all silence. He heard the house moan and creak, just like any other house on the block. He looked at the neighbors again. They had returned their attention to their tea and cookies.

“Well, it was good to see you,” he said. “Mom, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go up and get changed.” “Certainly, dear,” she said. “You run right along. Take your time.

There’s no rush. You just make sure everything fts ... nice.” He almost ran up the stairs, getting more and more excited. He only tensed and slowed when he reached the attic door. He opened it very carefully, making sure the neighbors didn’t hear the lock creak. He also wanted to make sure he wasn’t letting any other undue sound out. But as he listened intently as he let the door swing wider, there was nothing for the neighbors to hear.

When he reached the top of the attic stairs he saw why. Dana was not sitting. She was not standing. She wasn’t even on the foor. Instead, she lay in mid-air, spread-eagled by straps tightened around her wrists, ankles, and waist.

The wrists and ankle straps stretched off to support posts in all four corners. The thicker waist strap hung from a support beam in the ceiling. They were all so tight they might as well have been second skin. On her feet were dark red high heel pumps. Her fngernails were painted the same color. Covering her body was a sinfully tight, sleeveless, v-necked, dark red, soft cotton dress.

The skirt was fairly long, considering what they had been dressing her in, but it was just tight enough to adhere to her stretched-out legs. It was backless, and he could see her pendulous orbs quivering beneath the cloth, the mounds rippling to either side.

That was more than Dana herself could do. Her en- tire head was covered by a stitched up hood, com- plete with ear and eye padding, nostril straws, and a big pear gag prying her Cupie-doll, succulent, mouth open to its widest aperture. She was sealed in her own world, unaware of both the neighbors, and his, presence.

It wouldn’t be that way for long. He moved slowly around her, watching her chest rise and fall as she took even breaths, and as her fngers reached agonizingly for something other than air. He moved slowly up between her legs, watching her limbs disappear into the clinging soft cloth skirt.

She started when he touched her shin. Her head moved up and she grunted. Then she screamed as he started rolling back the dress hem.

“Shh, shh, shh,” he cooed uselessly as he revealed her frm, round, shapely thighs. “No one can hear you. I can hardly hear you.”

But she kept screaming into the gag-hood, which swallowed up the sounds like a pillow. She was naked beneath the dress. The strap around her waist made any other arrangement awkward. He rolled the dress up to the strap, and reached for his zipper as she twisted and rocked....

“Everything all right?” his mother asked as he came downstairs in jeans and a T-shirt.

“Everything’s great,” he answered. “You did fne, ma.”

The neighbors looked quizzically at each other.

“The boy works so hard,” his mother explained. “The least I can do is prepare everything for him.”

The neighbor woman smiled and nodded. “Oh, I see,” she said. “Laundry and the like.”

The old woman nodded, her smile widening. “And the like,” she agreed. “Well, I better get moving if I want to fnish everything by tonight,” he interrupted.”

“Oh?” said his mother. “Are you going out.?”

He nodded with satisfaction. “Yes. I did some scouting during lunch. I think I’ve found the perfect ... thing. Just a little more research and it’ll all be set.”

“I can admire that,” said the neighboring man. “It’s good there are still some young people willing to do their homework. It’ll pay off, son, believe me.”

“Don’t I know it. So if you’ll excuse me again, I’m just going to do a little more work on my project in the basement before I go. It was good seeing you again.”

After he left the room, the neighbors couldn’t help saying what a responsible, conscientious person he was. And his mother couldn’t help but agree. He didn’t take as much care with the cellar door as he had with the attic. After all, the neighbors were expecting to hear it open and close. But he was quick about it, and with good reason. As he stood at the top of the basement stairs, he could hear the furnace humming, but he could hear other humming as well ... high, strident, desperate, young female humming.