The keeper - illustrated bondage story, part 59

“What’s that on your mouth, babe?” he said, scratching at it. Dana tried to push her head closer but the sight of his lacerated fnger—complete with a torn diseased fngernail—looming into her vision was more than she could take. She jerked back, cringing, pulling on the straps with all her might.

“Hey baby,” he drunkenly complained, “don’t be like that...!” And he immediately pressed himself against her writhing body, embracing her tightly with one dirty arm, his face pressed to within an inch of hers. She thought she was going to vomit, just barely controlling her lurching stomach. She couldn’t choke now, not after all this...!

And then a whiskey bottle appeared in his right hand. “C’mon baby,” he drawled. “Have a drink with us, okay? Have a drink with us and then we’ll get you down.”

He didn’t wait. He merely gripped her head and poured the cheap hootch across her mouth. She shook her head madly, bleating in agony. The liquid stung and foamed...but then her jaw moved. She froze. The alcohol was undoing the mesh. She was suddenly chewing and moving her jaw like mad, feel- ing the glue of the gag bubbling and coming loose.

“Hey, good, huh?” said the derelict pressing against her. He took a swig of his own before offering it back to her. But instead of her going for it, something wet and fetid and undulating emerged from her mouth as if it was being born.

“What the fuck...!” he yelled and jumped back as the tongue-gag splattered to the foor like a skinned hamster.

“Please,” she croaked, her voice a husky, dis-used crackle. “Please, help me.”

The man looked at her pleading, lovely face...with the smooth, wet, red lips....

“Well, I’ve been trying to help you, baby,” he complained, taking a step toward her. “Have a drink....”

“No!” Her cry of anguish froze them. She realized she was close to hysteria and fought with all her remain- ing strength to stay calm. “Can’t you see I’m tied up? I was kidnapped. They did horri....” She shuddered in spite of herself, almost stuttering, fashes of memory nearly doubling her over. “...Horrible things. Please... untie me...get help....”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” said the bum, grabbing the belt beneath her breasts and pulling himself forward over the bunched velvet covering, again. “I’m trying to help you girlie, but you just gotta have a drink with us, okay?”

He pushed the bottle awkwardly against her lips and clenched teeth.

“No...you’ve got to...!” And then Dana wrenched her head away and started to scream in agony.

Faster than she could ever imagine her head was slammed back and a dirty rag was jammed deep into her mouth. Her eyes were covered in a blinding blur of light, and, when it cleared, his eyes bore into hers, one hand in her hair, his arm across her throat.

“I said have a drink with us,” he slowly croaked with barely contained fury. “Is that so hard...bitch?” He stared at her for a moment as her eyes widened and then her face began to crumble into despair. “Why, you’re just like all the rest of them, ain’t ya? Too good for me and my pals, huh?”

Dana shook her head quickly, her eyes widening again.

“No?”

She shook her head again, her expression apologetic and eager.

“Oh, now you ain’t too good for us, huh?” She pleaded with her eyes and body, pressing her tor- so to him.

“Okay, okay,” he croaked, the rage gone as if it had never been. “Take a drink, take a drink....”

He dragged the cloth from her mouth and poured the bottle between her lips. She seemed to accept it readily, even hungrily.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he said, turning to his rummy buddies with a leer.

As he did so, Dana wrenched herself to the other side, jamming her wrists out as far as she could, and spit the booze onto the mesh binding her hands. “Oh please,” she breathed, staring at the ceiling, yanking her arms back and forth. “Oh please, please...!” And then her hands were free.

They snapped beside her like cracked whips, one accidentally hitting the derelict on the arm. He spun back to her.

“Thank you,” she gasped at him, trying to distract him as she tore at the belts around her stomach and thighs. “Thank you so much for helping me. I’ll reward you. I’ll give you all the booze you want. I swear. Just let me go get it...!”

And then she stepped up, out of the velvet wrapping, the top of her fesh-colored thighhigh just peeking out from under the slit gray miniskirt. Her gray highheel clacked unsteadily to the basement foor and suddenly she was moving away from them, toward the backyard door.

“You were great,” she babbled, backing quickly away from them, bent slightly over, unaware of how her breasts founced in the bra between the open shirt sides. “I’ll get your reward...just wait here, okay...I’ll go get it right away...!”

She spun and ran...directly into the arms of another vagrant. She was stunned when he clinched her. His arms were like iron, his torso like coiled chains. He forced the air out of her with one squeeze and then they were all around her.

“No baby,” wheezed the derelict with the bottle as she hung, feebly kicking, her mouth weakly opening and closing like a beached fsh. “You don’t get it. You’re our reward....”

The bag was torn off Barbara’s head. She blinked up into the face of a tall, muscular black man. They seemed equally amazed to see each other, but their reactions were completely different. The blonde college student reared up, trying to talk, begging him to untie her and get her out of there. The man pressed his hand on her shoulder, pushed her down, and looked in every other direction.

Then, without a word, he pulled down his zipper, pulled out his schlong and tore open Barbara’s shirt.

She tried to scream but she was suddenly fat on her back, her shirt wide open. The frilly white bra lasted as long. He yanked it down and slapped his hands on her creamy white breasts, mashing them like butter squash. She tried to scream again, but the mesh and mouth packing was having none of it.