The keeper - illustrated bondage story, part 52

Dana was inside, wearing only her tailored suit jacket, buttoned at her tight waist. It took him literally seconds to comprehend it all. Her big, round breasts bulged in the plunging v-neck front of her jacket. The hem of the jacket just covered the dewy thatch of her soft brunette tuft. Her frm, tan thighs were on either side of a gleaming, gun-metal impaling pole which seemed to missile up between her legs.

Her legs and the pole continued down to the closet foor where the shaft was bolted and Dana’s feet were jammed into shiny, red, fve-inch highheels, her well-turned ankles strapped to the pole base with shack- les.

Her head was up and her wrists twisted up her back. Both her neck and arms were tied by soft, wire-re-inforced rope to the closet hanging pole, which was perfectly installed just behind her rubber-bandaged head.

The tan rubber bandage was adhered across the bridge of her nose and over her lower face, holding in untold mouth stuffngs. He could tell by the way her unseeing, smoky eyes would rise to half-mast, then close again, how much her mouth, not to mention cunt, was flled.

In a slow, rhythmic fashion, he unbuttoned her jacket, reaching in to cradle her bulbous mammaries as his lips descended deliberately to her left ear. Dana’s neck craned even further back, her eyes squeezing shut as he mauled and suckled her, his hips pressing insistently at her impaled vagina, her lower labia lips wrenched open as Barbara’s mouth had been by the ring—only the brunette’s invasion continued up her a full six inches.

Dana’s head, wrists, and ankles jerked in their bonds, but it was useless. He kept slowly, luxuriatingly slobbering on her head, neck, and chest, squeezing her boobs and ass, and rubbing himself against her until he came across her torso and thighs.

Rebuttoning her jacket, being sure to press the cloth against the sticky cum, he then purposely scooped her tits from the neckline, and clipped one brown nipple to the other with a two inch device his mother had let him keep.

Dana screeched behind the muffing gag, this as- sault like a buzzer in her chest. Her tits were now yanked together, their tortured nipples stretched toward one another. They looked like a light brown, freckled balloon toy.

“Thanks babe,” he said, responding to her anguished cry. “But I just had you this afternoon. Maybe later.” Then he slowly closed the door, deciding to luxuriate in the knowledge she was just inside, rather than get all hot and bothered watching her struggle. After all, he had to keep some strength up. Besides, her best holes were already plugged.

Good old ma, he thought as he returned his attention to the TV. Always trying to be fair to all guests of the house....

Dinner occurred without incident. Good old ma—apparently she realized he needed uninterrupted sustenance as well...although he couldn’t tell how much oyster juice was in the seafood casserole. She headed to the back room as he adjourned to his room. He stopped by the front room closet. Unable to resist, he took a peak inside. Barb was no longer standing.

She was hogtied on her side with tight black straps, blindfolded with a padded, buckled strap, and had a huge prod gag deep inside her mouth. She was motion- less, breathing easily, apparently unconscious.

Looking quickly toward the dining room, he slid inside the closet with her, silently sliding the door closed behind him. In the dark and claustrophobic space, he found the heady feeling of secrecy and possession nearly overwhelming. Exulting in the sensation, he masturbated over her twice in rapid succession, splashing cum on her head and chest. She did not react at all, and even that was exciting. Breathing heavily he hurriedly left the closet, closing the door quietly behind him. He moved as fast as he could upstairs. Sure, he knew his mother would see the cum eventually, but for now it was fun to pretend that he had snuck a cookie, as it were, and had gotten away with it.

He tried to be cool entering his room, but the frst place he looked was the closed door of his big, walk-in closet. Images few by his mind’s eye, so he decided to cut them off by marching directly over and sliding open the door.

Sure enough, Melissa was there, wearing only a virginal white lace garter belt, matching hose, fve inch white highheels, a half-cup bra, and fngerless white lace gloves which reached to her smooth upper arms. Her fery strawberry red hair fanned out from a face stuffed with a huge red ball gag, and her fery redpainted fngernails clawed at the closet ceiling as she hung, spread-eagled with wire-reinforced cord.

Her green eyes widened at the sight of his leering face and erection. Then he was inside and on her, his hands flled with her tight ass cheeks. Within a nanosecond his cock head had spread her vaginal lips and was surging all the way inside her. She screamed, babbling into the ball gag, then—as his log and one arm lifted her up—his other hand clawed into her red hair, dragging her whinnying, then sobbing, head back.