The keeper - illustrated bondage story, part 45

It was more than a hydraulic dildo. A tube went from its base between her legs to a small tank. Inside was a thick, lubricated liquid. The eight-inch rubber penis surged to ten or eleven inches, infated so its roughened exterior scraped her insides, and then spurted every ffteen minutes.

Melissa moaned, shaking, and tried to sit up. She couldn’t, because a strap was around her throat, holding her down to a third foor ring. She then tried to scream. She couldn’t because the bustier-gag was back on her lower face, only now the penis gag was electric too. It too moved up and down, and infated. It too was attached to a tank -- flled with a mix of oils, saliva, and active cultures. And every other ffteen minutes, it too spurted.

A huge puddle encircled Melissa’s hips. Oils drooled down Melissa’s throat while the bile spewed out her mouth, over the gag, and into her sopping wet hair. Every time she could think straight, she tried to wrap her fngers around the ass band and pull the plug from her anus, but everything was just too tight.

And then the dildos would start surging again.... She just had to lay there, hysterical, crying, twisting in her bonds, taking it.

Upstairs, Dana was being a better girl. She hardly had a choice. The old woman was sitting on the easy chair now, holding Dana’s arms (while her wrists were still cuffed). Half the brunette’s body was on the old woman’s lap -- the back of Dana’s waist resting directly on the chair edge. Her ankles were still tied to her thighs, but her high heels rested on the foor, her toes on the carpet, taking her entire lower weight.

And his, because he was kneeling between her legs, embracing her, thrusting his cock into her cunt.

He didn’t need to raise her skirt hem. The spreading of her legs was all it took. She, like Barbara, was naked underneath. Her vest was only open enough to spill her pendulous mounds out. He would suckle and squeeze them when he wasn’t holding her to him.

She groaned, grunted, and squealed into the new, thick, round, padded, stirrup gag which pushed her jaw down and stretched her mouth back. Even so, he still kissed and licked her lips as she tried to turn away. But no matter how she struggled, the rutting never stopped.

Finally the old woman wrapped one arm around both the junior executives and put her other hand tight on Dana’s forehead, forcing her head back. Finally he grabbed Dana’s hips and thrust even harder and faster. Finally he wrapped his hands around her legs and lifted her completely off the foor, still rutting.

Finally, before her wide, blind, frightened eyes, he came again, ejaculating deep inside her.

Immediately the two dropped her, letting her hit the foor on her back with a thud. Then they just stood over her, watching her cry, her body wracked by sobs -- her back arching, her breasts shaking.

He looked over at his mother. “It’s been a long day.” She nodded. ‘Yes. I suppose your bed will be warm enough by now.”

He sighed, and looked back down at the slowly struggling brunette. “and a long night, I suppose.” “To rest,” his mother said sagely. Perchance to plan.” He looked at her with interest. “Plan?”

“Of course. These are three extremely pretty, beautiful young ladies. The little red headed one may be missed from her dance class. The serene, sensual brown haired one will already be missed from her job. And the lively, lovely blonde will be missed from her school.” His expression became concerned as she con- tinued casually. “If we are to keep these darling girls ... in the manner to which they have become accustomed ... then we must be sure they will not be seen ... or heard.”

He looked at the old woman, and smiled. “But of course.”

Dana was back in the attic, lying on the thickly padded foor. Her ankles were crossed and bound, then bound again to a ring in the middle of the foor. Her knees were also tied. Her wrists were tied and tied to another ring behind her, so she had to lay on her side. Her elbows were also tied.

She was wearing a red, French-cut bikini, showing off her breasts and legs. Over her head was a red leather hood gag, laced up the back, flling her mouth with a pear gag, and covering her eyes and ears with padding. She lay there, so simply dressed, so simply bound, and so simply gagged that the entire effect was of captive elegance.

She could hardly move, yet she kept trying, her head flled with the words. “We have to make sure they are not seen .. or heard.’ They echoed in her head, and then she tried screaming for the thousandth time. And, for the thousandth time, all that emerged was a long, low groan.

In the cellar, Melissa quivered, then her lower body arched completely off the foor, liquid sloshing out of her cunt. She jerked twice, then her butt-hit the sodden mattress heavily, and she lay still.

Five minutes later, her upper body arced, her head went back, and liquid all but exploded out from under her gag, burbling up her face and dripping into her shiny wet hair.

She groaned wetly, started to cry, then lost consciousness again ... resting in a dark sleep ... waiting to be awakened by the next hydraulic alarm.