The keeper - illustrated bondage story, part 47

He awoke with a hard-on, like always. But Barbara was not where he had left her. No, not exactly. She was still in bed, but not in the same position. Obviously, a bondage fairy had been there last night. The beautiful blonde was lying on her side, facing away from him. She was wearing a black lace shirt and panties. She was completely untied and ungagged. She was asleep, her hands near her head, breathing evenly.

He smiled, almost laughing. He could imagine his mother coming in, putting the drug-soaked pad over Barbara’s face ... maybe the blonde even struggled a little ... and preparing her. He wasn’t about to disappoint his mother.

He put his hand gently on Barbara’s shoulder. “Honey?” he said quietly. “Honey?” When she didn’t react, his hands wandered down her body until they rested on her thigh. Carefully and quietly he rolled the panties down her leg. She hardly stirred, even when he leaned down to pull the underwear completely off her.

“Honey?” he said again, rolling the panties into a ball.

“You up?” Holding the ball of lace in one hand, he reached under his pillow with the other. Sure enough, there were strip upon strip of plastic pull-ties. He reached gently over and rested his hand on Barbara’s arm. “Come here, darling....”

The blonde’s eyes snapped open when she felt the ball of underwear being stuffed in her mouth. Before she could fully react, a thin strip of plastic was forcing it in, and tightening at the back of her head.

Barbara tried to leap up, but hands were restraining her. He laughed, dragging her to him. She felt softer, smoother, and sweeter than ever in the morning light. And now her hands were affxed behind her, and her panties were flling her mouth.

She kicked and scissored her legs, but he kept her in a bear hug, then dove his own heel between her thighs. Still laughing, he embraced her to him, back to front, one arm around her waist, the other around her upper chest.

Barbara threw her head back and started to scream, but then his hand was there, both slapping and clapping over her stuffed mouth. He dragged her back, her head over his shoulder and on the mattress.

“Where do you think you’re going?’ he asked, holding her taut and tight. “It’s time for a little morning delight.” Only then did he drag her under him. She screamed and kicked, but he forced his body between her bent knees and pressed his arms across her throat and over her face.

She had to stop when she lost her air. But there he still was, hand crushing her lips, and forearm on her windpipe. “Let’s see what we have here,” he whispered, then slid his entire length up into her.

Barbara groaned and arched, her feet futtering weakly in the air. But just like before, he kept surging, with perfect control and aim. She was trapped under him.

He held her that way for a half an hour, watching her fesh redden and heat, the sweat coat her skin, her eyes grow fuzzy and unfocused, and her screeches turn to moans. He brought her to a fever pitch, until her legs no longer kicked. Instead, they spread and bent -- trying to relieve the pressure inside her.

Finally, he quickly brought her to orgasm, thrusting like a piston. She tried a fnal panicked escape, her voice rising to a scream, but then her biology took over, wracking her with exploding passion.

Barbara stiffened, choking with fury, then wildly kicked at the bed with her heels. Her neck stretched, her head going all the way back, but he kept his hand tight over her mouth until it seemed she would tear herself apart.

Only then did his arm on her neck shift, strong fngers reaching for her arteries. In the midst of her reaction, he cut off the blood to her brain. Barbara suddenly sighed and stilled, rendered unconscious. But still her body reacted, the nerves jangled by his assault. Her cunt sucked at him, trying to get him to ejaculate. He leaned up on one elbow, looking down at her perfection, now swathed in black lace, then thought better of it.

Still, it took him another forty-fve minutes before he came downstairs. He sat at the table, smiling.

“Everything’s copacetic,” he called to his mother.

“Although maybe you had better double check, just to be on the safe side.”

“Can it wait until after breakfast?” she called back from the kitchen.

He thought of Barbara sitting up there beside the bed, her legs bent wide, ankles affxed to thighs, calves to knees, all with plastic pull-ties. Her arms behind her, wrists to elbows, forearms to forearms, with more plastic straps that were so tight they’d have to be cut off. Then more over her tits, and more under her tits. And more around her mouth, holding in the top and the panties.

He thought of her awakening, weak from the drug and orgasm, trying to force the obstruction out, clammy with the cum he had covered her with. He had tied her frst, sat her up against the wall, and masturbated on her three times. The jiz was in her hair, across her face, and dotting her tits. He had even sprayed some across her mouth.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he answered his mom. “Why?’ “Look what we have here,” he heard, even closer than before. He turned to see his mother in the kitchen doorway, holding Melissa by the arm. The little redhead was glorious. Her hair and body had been freshly washed and dried, making her mane and skin glow with health (especially with all the orgasms she had survived the previous night).