Stocking tied | Plaything 2 | bdsm stories

Cyndi snapped up, her eyes at their widest aperture. She made a little gurgling sound, then started to struggle tentatively again.

"Come on, come on," said Ellsworth, pushing Oswald aside-but not so far he lost his grip on her wrist or mouth. "We don't have time for this."

As Oswald shifted aside, the moonlight fell across Cyndi's torso, illuminating her sweat-soaked nightgown. It stuck to her like an eighth layer of skin. It had turned transparent. Her flesh glistened. Her chest heaved. Her nipples pointed accusingly at the lawyer. He simply smiled.

"Now, now," he said, reaching forward. He squeezed her right tit through the lace. "I only have my client's best interests at heart." He took her little nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He twisted.

Cyndi writhed in her relatives' grip, trying to get her tongue from under the stockings . . . trying to get her lips above Oswald's hand ... trying to get away from Audrey's grip.

It was no use. They were all around her. They penned her in. She tried to shrink away, tried yanking against them. They only held her tighter. She couldn't breathe. There was a roaring in her ears as Ellsworth pressed her flesh.

She fainted as his hand slipped inside her nightgown.

Cyndi Rowland awoke. She could hardly see. A brown haze had settled over her vision. She blinked, but it didn't go away. She couldn't hear clearly. She was dimly aware of a mumbling sound beyond the thunder still inside her skull. She couldn't speak. She tried to call out. All she heard was a distant, muffled mumble. She tried to move. She felt sudden, flashing pain at her shoulders, elbows, wrists, and knees. The rest of her was numb.

There was light. She saw it as a strange, rectangular spot in front of her. It seemed to yawn before her. The sights and sounds became more distinct. She finally understood where she was. It was the doorway of her father's room, She was out in the hall. Inside, she could make out his bed. Her view of his prone form was blocked by figures at the bed's base.

Blocking it all out was a shape which grew larger as the light shrank, then disappeared. But the shape continued to grow and move it was coming toward her.

She cried in fear, but could only hear tiny gasps coming from below her wide, frightened eyes.

Harold Ellsworth closed the bedroom door and approached his prize. He loomed over her as she leaned against the balcony's bannister. He kneeled beside her so he could look directly into her confused blue eyes.

"It's going perfectly," he whispered. "They're handling it exactly right.

They're explaining that it is all for the best, you see. They're not trying to turn him against you. He would have never gone for that. Instead, they're telling him it's natural. It is time for you to live your own life, without his help. It is time for him to let you be your own person. Isn't that wonderful?"

Cyndi shrieked at him. She tried to hit him and run. Instead, she could only gurgle. She heard the creaks of wood and rope. Ellsworth surveyed her predicament carefully.

She was standing on her knees against the balcony banister which overlooked the first floor. Her legs had been bent double and her ankles had been tied to her thighs. Her gown's floor-length skirt had been tom up the sides, the front, and back to facilitate matters. Then each knee had been lashed to another thick, round support post under the bannister rail.

Her ankles were crossed, tied, and secured to a Support Post between the ones her knees were affixed to. Her wrists were behind her, also crossed and tied to her ankles. Her arms were over the bannister rail top, her elbows lashed as close as they could go, forcing her chest to thrust out. There were several tight loops of rope around her shoulders affixed to the bannister rail.

Her breasts were bulging in the neckline. Ellsworth reached over and tugged the bodice down. Cyndi's round tits popped out of their prison, their nipples pointed at the closed door. The lawyer cupped them, feeling their strength, their weight, their firmness. She screamed, shaking her head as he chuckled.

"There, there," he soothed, looking at her swathed head. "No one can hear you.

No one can see you. No one can save you."

Cyndi sagged, breathing raggedly through her nose. She couldn't get any air into her throat to regain strength. Her mouth was still filled with her stockings.

Around them, between her teeth, Audrey had tightly tied a pair of her own pantyhose. Over that, she had tied another pair over the lower half of Cyndi's face. Over that, she had pulled one stocking over Cyndi's head. She had cut open a hole at the top to pull Cyndi's hair through. It cascaded down like a ponytail. It was a flaxen whip which slapped her head every time she moved.

As a finishing touch, just to make sure her father wouldn't become aware of her, they had tied a final stocking around the two other gagging circlets. It held the stockings in her mouth, between her teeth and over her lips.

Harold Ellsworth leaned even farther down to suck and nip on Cyndi's right breast.

She jerked in place, the wood and hemp creaking.

She started to choke and sob as he stared down at the triangular tuft of soft hair peeking from the tattered strips of her torn gown. Cyndi was not wearing underwear. She didn't like it, and in this case, didn't think she would need it.

She was terribly, terribly wrong.

"You don't know," he gasped, one hand lowering. "You don't know how long I've waited." His hand rested on her thigh. She moved as if hit with an electric shock. The ropes and bannister held. She tottered, then settled, the merciless hemp holding her in place. He continued to speak softly, directly into her covered ear.

"I've watched you since you were fourteen… growing… developing… changing… I've seen your body harden ... Your flesh soften I've seen your lips grow luscious, your eyes deepen, your hair become fuller and glow He took a moment to suckle her, gripping her tit like a frosting dispenser. His other hand touched her tuft, stroking it like a pussycat.

Cyndi stretched in agony, her fingers clawing the air. Her muscles spasmed, but nothing gave way. The ropes held her shoulders down and her feet up. The stocking hood was horrid, dulling her external senses just enough and heightening her internal senses all the more. She screamed into the gag which laughingly swallowed the sounds up.

"You’re mine," he said, straightening, his wet lips rubbing the stocking hood just outside her ear. No matter how the stocking hood distorted her features, he could still recognize the sumptuous beauty there. 'That's what I get out of this. They get the money, the influence, and the house. I get you."

His hand pressed against her vagina, his forefinger d thumb stinking into its lips. His other hand pressed her left breast, fingers sinking into it like dough.

The door to the bedroom opened again. Audrey quickly exited and closed it again.

"Hurry," she hissed. "He wants to talk to you. I think this is it."

Ellsworth smiled wickedly at his captive charge. "Wait for me," he said, rising, his hands tugging her bodice over her aching tits. "Don't go away."

Cyndi screamed, straining forward, as they opened he door again. She wrenched on the ropes, shaking her head madly, making as much noise as she could. The sounds could have been the wind moaning, the house groaning, the pipes creaking, but Audrey gave her a look of distaste, then motioned at Oswald with her head.

He came surging out of the room and strode directly at the quaking girl. He filled her vision like a falling boulder. He raised one big, meaty hand, and she cringed away. Then, with the other hand, he quickly, light, and casually caught her nose between forefinger and thumb.

Audrey almost laughed at the simplicity of it. She watched for as long as she could while slowly closing the door behind the lawyer. Cyndi stilled in surprise, her eyes widening as he gripped through the flesh-colored silk. Then as the air ran out, she began to struggle even more desperately-- her movements intense and ragged. She shook her head. She reared back. She gurgled, choked, and gasped. No matter-- Oswald still held her nostrils closed.

She hard the lawyer's voice: "Yes? What can I do for you, sir?" She heard the door close. She heard everything but herself. Then the roar came back into her brain. She felt her muscles stretch to their absolute limit. She felt her face bulging. She thought her head would explode.

Then nothing.

Cyndi Rowland awoke a second time. She was floating. Her legs hung below her like shapely sacks attached to her hips. She felt the night air course across them. Her gown's skirt had been torn completely off this time. This time she seemed to be wearing a satin and lace minidress, the hem just below her sodden crotch.

She felt the wide belt of flesh, hair, and muscle across her waist. Oswald was holding her in his arms, her back pressed against his front. She raised her head and tried to scream again. But she could make no noise.

The stocking hood was off, but the rest of the gag remained in place. The gag over her lips had been stretched under her chin and over her nose, and adhered to her visage as if glued. She could still breathe, but just barely. The better to subdue you with, my dear.

The other two, sandwiching, stockings were still holding the ball of silk in her open, drooling mouth.

She tried to strike out at her stepbrother, but her arms were dead weight. Her wrists were still crossed and bound behind her. She felt her breasts on the top of his arm, through the satin. Her bodice had been torn by the ordeal, making the V-neck even more severe. She tried to kick. Her legs hardly moved.

All Cyndi could do was look. She was back in her own room. The lights were still out. The french doors were still open, bathing the area in shafts of blue moonlight. Her stepsister was on Cyndi's bed, rolling luxuriously, chortling.

"Perfect," she laughed. "Perfect. Done. All done. It's ours. Everything.

Everything! The money, the house, the property, the business. All ours!" She rolled up and stood on her knees on the mattress. "Look, brother dear, our benefactor is awake." Oswald looked down, held Cyndi tighter, and took a step closer to the bed.

"Thank you, dear," Audrey said, touching Cyndi's face. "We convinced your dear loving daddy that you need to live your own life, free of his influence. His trusted lawyer is in there now, getting it all done up exactly right. Now, no matter what happens, it's ours. Even if your precious poppa lives for another hundred years, we have the power of attorney. No matter whether he wants to change the will back, he's too old and too weak. Ellsworth will have it in probate forever. We're the lords of the manor now. We own it." She looked carefully into Cyndi's wide, wet eyes. "We own you."

Prev Next