The keeper - illustrated bondage story, part 53

Within moments he was doing what he had been waiting for all afternoon: raping another remarkably pretty, naturally sexy, extraordinarily unwilling, stringently bound and totally gagged young girl. And he was doing it a wall away from an ordinary residen- tial street, with cars full of oblivious people passing by every few minutes. And, try as she might with all her might, there was nothing this little miss could do about it.

He fucked and fucked and fucked her soft crimson tuft, bouncing her up and down on his cock—her forced-forward tits scraping against his chest, the high heels snapping against the clothes-strewn closet foor, and her bound arms up as if crying hallelujah.

As he got closer and closer to coming, he slapped a hand over her burbling, crying, hysterical mouth while still gripping her mane with the other. Bend- ing her back, her lean body jiggling, he kept thrusting. “Shut up, bitch,” he hissed, wanting the exact opposite to occur. “You know the routine. You’re my fuck toy. Your cunt is mine forever....”

Then, as her eyes became saucers and she tried to writhe away, he came up into her like a cannon. She threw herself back, but all that happened was she hung in midair like a foating, falling beauty, her skin shining, her hair cascading, and her cunt sucking up a glassful of cream.

Then, as he embraced her, his mouth falling onto her left tit like a closing bear trap, he grabbed a drug-soaked handtowel from the top of the narrow bureau behind her and plopped it over her babbling, crying mouth.

She stiffened in mid-air—his mouth still sucking her breast and his cock still plugging her—as the sickly sweet smell invaded her mind. “No!” she cried to herself. “No, not again!” But then her green eyes grew clouded, her strength was gone and she felt his cum crawling through her like a parasite.

She felt him cut her down, her arms falling uselessly to her side. She felt the strap at the back of her head come loose, the ball being forced out of her mouth to fall wetly to the foor. And all she could do, all ninety-fve pounds of her, was hang there in his arms and murmur, drooling. She felt his strong hands on her sweat-slickened skin, and then she was over his knee, her arms behind her.

“There there,” he said, retying her wrists with white tape. “There there.” A stitched leather beanbag was stuffed in her mouth and more white tape went over that—from nostrils to chin, and from ear to ear. “There there.” He stood her up and drew her over toward the bed by her tiny waist and cupped breast. She walked like an exhausted pony trying its legs for the frst time.

He dropped her on the bed on her back and crawled atop her. “Finally,” he breathed, his breath thick on her face. “Alone again.” He pinched a pink nipple, the other hand fnding her frm ass cheek. “Just you and me, dearest...the man you never looked at and the sweetest, happiest, liveliest little dancer....” He began to grind her tit in one hand while fngering her anus with the forefnger of the other.

Melissa started, whining, but he merely began kissing her face and neck...all the while still talking. “...The one with the cutest face...the most glorious hair...the sexiest body...the best legs...the greatest ass...!” And then the fnger was all the way in, rooting around. Melissa arched her back, letting out a high pitched, nearly silenced wail, but he held her down by her breast and by biting her earlobe.

She fell back heavily onto the padded mattress and heavy bedclothes as he wrapped an arm around her throat, snuggled beneath her and reached across to the light switch.

“Goodnight dearest,” he whispered wickedly. “Sleep tight.” And then she was in darkness, his cock up her ass.

Downstairs, his mother looked up from her sewing. Only glancing at the front room closet, she then looked toward the kitchen where, behind the cellar door and down the stairs, Dana was secured to the mattress. Her throat and one ankle was attached to the foor rings while her other leg was doubled, its ankle strapped and taped to its thigh. Her micromini slit suit skirt was back on, just barely covering the crotch rope which was deep between her vaginal lips and anchored on her fne hip bones.

Above her waist, he suit jacket was missing, but the nipple clamps were still in place. Her arms were behind her, in the small of her back, strapped and taped at the wrists, forearms and elbows. The rubber band- age gag was replaced by a black ballgag, reinforced by a drug-soddened sheet, tied so tightly around her head and under her hair it looked like tape.