Big tits girl tied | Plaything 7 | bdsm stories

"Look at that!" Oswald marveled. "Her eyes are getting wet."

"You're not going to cry, are You?" Audrey chastised. "A big girl like you?"

Megan tried to wrench herself out of their grip, howling. They just laughed, holding on to her harder. She began to quake, without tears. She started cursing anew, trying to get the ball out once and for all.

Oswald let go of her wrist and put his hand over her taped Mouth. Megan grabbed his big wrist with her hand.

She yanked, but it didn't budge. Their other hands were still crushing her warm, slippery tits.

"What now, brother dear?" Audrey wondered.

"I said she had to get me off three ways. There only a few options left." He slapped his sister's hand. She let go of the blond's left breast. Oswald moved his hand there. Audrey replaced his hand over Megan's mouth.

"She's got a really big mouth,,, the woman marveled.

"Not really," said he.

"A big mouth," Audrey repeated. "A big, big mouth. I think you should fill it, brother dear."

"Oh no," Oswald disagreed, nipping at Megan's nipple. "She might bite. She might scream.,,

"I don't think so," Audrey countered, holding the girl in place by the twisted wrist and mouth. "I think her mouth would be a perfect fit. I think her mouth would be so wide, she couldn't bite. And I think her mouth would be so full, she couldn't scream."

"You think so?" said Oswald, hugging Megan to him. He looked at her wide green eyes, brimming with tears of frustration and dripping with cum. He 1 looked at her bulging cheeks over Audrey's gripping hand. He looked at her smooth arms, twisted back and gripping forward, with their little purple-painted nails. He looked at her Chest-her tits slightly conical, her areolas darkened, her nipples shaking from abuse.

"What the heck," he decided. "It's worth a try."

Audrey Rowland was an anesthesiologist at the hospital, so she knew all about sleep drugs-that much had already been made apparent. But being a qualified nurse would also make her privy to all the health establishment's equipment-including the one she placed in Megan Rogers' mouth..

They had retied her wrists behind her back. They had wrapped and tied her T-shirt o ver her mouth, keeping the handball inside. Then they had put on a little show for her. Still crouched with her shins strapped to her thighs, Megan had watched Audrey place the strange pair of thin metal lips over her brother's cock.

They were like a silver steel mouth, attached at the curved sides, with little key handles at either corner. When Audrey clicked them around, the lips/mouth would open wider. She opened it just wide enough to fit over and under Oswald's thick prick. Then she came at Megan with them.

The blond heard herself whimpering. It wasn't so much the third get-off which upset her, but the appendage she knew they were going to put in her already aching jaw. They used the thing for tonsillectomies. Her fertile imagination had already seen the problems inherent in this new, particular masturbation. She cringed as the burly brother and sister kneeled on either side of her.

They sandwiched her, grabbing her head. Oswald pulled down the T-shirt, tore off the limp tape, and dug into her mouth with one hand while gripping her jaw roughly in the other. He popped out the handball, then plunged his right hand into her hair. He yanked back with that while pulling down her lower jaw.

Megan howled in pain, her bound wrists sliding up her naked back, as Audrey went at her teeth like a sadistic dentist. She clicked the metal lips between Megan's flesh ones. The blond immediately discovered there was a track in them where her upper and lower molars fit. Then Audrey snapped the lips apart, opening Megan's mouth and keeping it open.

Audrey turned the key handles which were on either side of the steel mouth. The metal lips spread even farther apart. She kept turning-Megan's head going back farther and farther, her eyes getting wider and wider-until the lips were open as far as they had been for Oswald's cock.

Megan tried to fall to the side. She tried to hop away. But Oswald and Audrey held her firmly. It was even worse than the handball had been. The cock's circumference was even bigger than the previous mouthful. Her jaw was distended almost as far as it could go, its muscles stretched as tight as violin's strings. Although Megan could open her mouth a trifle wider, she couldn't pull it open wide enough to get her teeth out of the steel inner-mouth's tracks.

Oswald stood up, grabbing her by the ears and hair. Audrey grabbed her bound wrists and pulled them up. It felt as if they had tied her around a tree trunk, but the truth was that Audrey had forced herself between Megan's arms, making the blond backward-embrace the wide girl's waist. Audrey then embraced the girl front-to-back-Megan's vision was filled with Oswald's loins. Then she saw the cock crown disappear below her nose. She felt its weight on her tongue.

"You know the routine," Audrey whispered in her ear, her hands finding Megan's breasts. She lightly filled her hands with the ends of Megan's tits. "Suck him off."

Megan started to grunt and wiggle. Her outrage and meaning was clear. "How?"

"Don't act dumb, cocksucker," Oswald warned, his cock going deeper into her mouth like a log rushing into a tunnel. He pulled her head forward onto him.

"Don't be dense, dear," Audrey seconded, squeezing her tits. "Take the whole thing into your mouth.

Let it go down your throat. Disengage your gag reflex. You can do it. I'm sure you've done it before.,,

Oswald pushed her face against his crotch. His entire length was inside her mouth. Then he pulled his hips back while pushing her head by the hair and ears-He repeated the action. He repeated it again. And again. And again.

Audrey kept her hand-holds on Megan's chest, helping her along. "You can't bit down on it," she explained. "You can't eject it, so it's best to get the job done as quickly and practically as possible."

Megan complained around the member in her mouth, her eyes seeking her evil, molesting conscience.

"You know," said Audrey. "Use your tongue. Use the top of your mouth. Wet him.

Suck him. Drain him dry."

Megan tried. She sandwiched the noxious thing between her tongue and the top of her mouth. She let the saliva flow. Her cheeks went in and out with difficulty.

Oswald felt it and began to get excited again.

One of Audrey's hands left Megan's tits and rose to her cheek. She let her fingers run along the entering and exiting shaft. Then she massaged the ooze into Megan's breast.

"That's nice, isn't it?" she chided. "That's what it's all about, right? This is what your mouth is for. This is what your tits are for. This is what you are for. Agree?"

Megan tried to block out the words. She tried to block out the sensations. She tried to block out everything. She tried to concentrate on the task. If she could do this, she could get out of this room. She could do this.

She made a frankfurter bun out of her tongue. She scraped the top of his cock along the top of her mouth. She forced her lips down, over the edges of the metal pry-lips, to caress his prick as it emerged. She "aahed" all the way in; she "oohed" on his way out. She breathed deeply and raggedly as he pulled her head forward and back.

Finally he intertwined his fingers in the hair at the back of her head and hugged her to his crotch. She surged in Audrey's grip, her fingers clawing the air behind Audrey's back.

Oswald came into her mouth. She coughed and hacked, thick white liquid bubbling out the corners of her pried-open mouth. She felt the stuff oozing down her throat like warm white worms. She tried to pull her head back, but Oswald wouldn't let her. She tried to force her body away, but Audrey pressed herself against the blond with all her considerable weight.

The Rowlands held the little half-naked blond girl by the head and tits until her convulsions subsided.

The Rowlands were as good as their word. They did let Megan out of that room.

But not before Oswald tied her to the weights. He had stuffed her T-shirt into her mouth. He had dragged her over to a machine. With Audrey's help, he had taped Megan to it with thin, white athlete's sport tape.

It was one of those all-in-one machines. Oswald had sat Megan down on the leg exerciser. It consisted of a seat and two channels in which the legs were placed. They stretched the legs wide. The iron-pumper was then supposed to pull down, lifting the weights behind.

Oswald set all the weights to their maximum. To close her legs or pull her arms down would require Megan to lift five hundred pounds.

As Oswald kneeled before her, grabbing her tits as if they were his own cock, she found the strength to force the T-shirt out of her mouth with her tongue.

She babbled with her pried-open mouth, drool coursing down her chin and chest as she wrenched on her bonds and shook her head wildly.

"Oh, shut up," said Audrey. She popped the handball back into Megan's mouth and released the key handles on the metal-jaw. The biond's teeth snapped down onto the rubber and Audrey quickly wrapped her head with tape. It didn't completely cover her mouth, but it did cover the ball, holding it tightly inside.

Megan started yelling ... something about broken Promises, exhaustion, and terror.

"Don't worry about it," said Audrey, moving toward the door as Oswald continued to worship at his makeshift altar. "Until later. When it's dark. When the spa is closed."

Audrey came back after she had investigated the entire building. It had taken awhile because she had stood outside the weight-room door a long time just to make sure no one would be able to hear Oswald cutting open Megan's tights. That no one would hear the sounds she made as he slipped his hands behind her haunches and sunk his meat into her fine, trimmed, fluffy blond vulva.

That no matter how she yanked on her bonds and how hard he rammed into her, no one could hear the groaning of the metal or her ragged, muffled screams.

Oswald was still pounding into the writhing, sweat-drenched young girl when Audrey got back.

Megan's head was lolling back, her mouth wide open-plugged by the blue ball held in by the white tape. Her blond hair was dripping-wet ringlets. Her breasts were red and raw, flat and hard on her heaving chest. Her shapely legs were quivering, jerking each time his entire length sank into her. Her arms were still up-reaching for escape with each violation rather than trying to pull downward.

Audrey wrapped a hand around the girl's sweet, slutty, flushed face and looked benignly down on her slowly rutting brother. "Almost finished?" she asked. "I found a place."

He looked up from his effort. "Takes a bit the fourth time around," he grunted.

"Just a second." He reared back, plunging his penis all the way up into the stunned girl another time- Audrey saw his hands turn to fists and the effort fill his face. Then she practically felt him shoot off another load into the seated, spread-eagied girl.

Megan's head snapped up. She sat erect and started quivering in agitation. She tried to pull away, jerk, and eject the semen, but Oswald stayed with her, his cock completely Plugging her tight, wet cunt. She started to bleat when Audrey's hand nonchalantly slipped over her working lips. In the woman's fingers was a thick, drug-soaked cloth.

It tightened over Megan's mouth and nose. The drug's tentacles began to creep into her head. She imagined her captors' Poison moving through her body like veins; the gray drug trickling down from her nose, and the white cum flowing upwards like pudding. There was blackness when they met.

"Don't worry," she heard echoing in her head. "He didn't lie. You got him off three times-four-so we'll let you out of this room..."

Megan Rogers awoke..... barely . . . in another room. Still bound, still gagged, but in another room.

She didn't know where she was. She hardly knew who she was- All she knew was that she couldn't see, couldn't speak, could hardly move, and her ears were filled with an all-consuming hum.

Audrey and Oswald Rowland knew where she was. She was in the water engine room.

She was below the spa, in the room where they kept the engines which powered the filters which kept their swimming pools and hot tubs clean.

It was a surprisingly small, cramped room, whose warm water pipes dripped all the time-along with small spurts of accompanying steam.

Megan Rogers lay in the back, behind the engine, facing the one entry and exit door. Only her face was just barely visible from the doorway, but that's the way Audrey had it planned. The rest of her body was squeezed near the wall, in front of the thin, cool water pipes.

Megan's ripped, midriff-exposing, half T-shirt was back on-but it was torn from the neckline and already so soaked that what cleavage wasn't exposed was clearly discernible in the transparent I cotton. Her green exercise bottoms were back on, high on her hips, but minus the fleshy, shiny leggings. As per the Rowland's M.O., those were in and around her mouth.

So she lay, her crotch barely covered, the thong in her ass crack, he firm cheeks wet and exposed. She lay on her side, her legs together, her shoes off, her ankles crossed, her arms behind her, her wrists crossed in the small of her back.

She couldn't kick because they had tied her ankles and knees to the pipes in front of her. She couldn't hit or slam herself on anything because they had tied her wrists and elbows to the pipes in back of her.

Part Of one legging was balled inside her mouth. The other part was tied between her teeth. The other legging was tied over her mouth. And as the piece de resistance, Megan Rogers' silver chest piece was over her head.

The chest section was across her face. The arm openings were Pulled back and tied tightly together so the spandex molded to her visage the way it had form-fitted her chest. It stretched to the middle of her neck effectively making a silver spandex hood for her.

Oswald and Audrey stood on either side of the door.

"She won't be able to hear, and no one will be able to hear her," explained Audrey. "She won't be able to see, and no one will be able to see her."

"Let me fuck her," Oswald said. "One last fuck ... for her. I'll get her off.

Least I could do . . . after all she did for me."

"No," said his sister.

"She was good," Oswald said. "Slim. Tight. I could've done her some more.

"You 'did' her four times," his sister reminded.

"Another would've taken all night."

"So?" he complained.

"So we would have missed our little Clarissa," said Audrey- "And that just wouldn't do."

"Clarissa," Oswald breathed, looking away from the water engine. "She looks prime."

"Prime and ready," Audrey promised. "Come along, brother dear." She held open the filter engine door and motioned for Oswald to proceed. He headed for the car while Audrey took one last look at the wet, barely moving Ms. March.

Megan's smooth, curving body was behind the silver-gray filtering engine. Her round, strong, filled tits were painted by the ripped, soaked pink cloth. Her mound of blond beaver was contained in the aerobic, high-hip, green G-string.

Her flesh gleamed with moisture.

And her head was covered by the shining silver spandex. She looked like part of the engine.

If anybody came in, they wouldn't see her unless they looked incredibly close.

Even if she moved her head, it would be the vaguest of sights, at the very base of the contraption, at the very far edge of the room. Even if she screamed into the gag, it couldn't be heard over the filter's throb. Megan Rogers was lashed into the bowels of the spa, her limbs stilled, her mouth filled.

Audrey Rowland closed the metal door of the makeshift steam room behind her and started the long walk across the dark, deep cellar.

CLARISSA HAYES WAS PRIME AND READY. SHE WAS A goddess in miniature.

Oswald held

his breath as he saw he come down the airport hallway. So small, yet so rich in form, and lush in content. She couldn't be more than five foot-one, but her body still seemed so long.

Her legs seemed long and shapely. Her torso seemed long and curved. Her breasts seemed so large. Only her neck wasn't the swan-sort that Cyndi and Megan had.

Atop it was the fresh, happy face with the tousled brown hair, big brown eyes, straight nose, and thin, smiling red lips.

He could tell all this even though she was wearing the disconcerting travel outfit-a one-piece, tailored jumpsuit that buttoned up the front. The top three buttons were open, revealing a swash of her strong, high chest. She wore an ornate necklace, befitting her interest in foreign lands. There was an equally ornate, wide belt cinching her -twenty-three-inch waist.

Oswald didn't need to see more of her front. He had already seen pictures of her entire body.

"She doesn't dress like a Ms. April," he complained to his sister.

"Listen," Audrey advised. They both heard the clack-clack clack of her shoes on the airport tile. "Now look at her feet." Oswald saw the girl was wearing black high-heel pumps which were at least three inches tall. "Her only concession to her height", Audrey figured.

They both watched the girl go by. The twentyfour-year-old Ms. April didn't give them a second glance. It was amazing what overalls would do. Since it was an airport, and since it was so late at night, the few people who were there figured the wide man and woman in the overalls were custodians.

With just a little investigation, the Rowlands had discovered Clarissa Hayes was going on a little overseas vacation. Although her modeling garnered her some money, it wasn't enough to afford anything but a transatlantic ticket on the redeye. She was leaving that very night. This is why the brother-and-sister team had to rush away from the spa.

"She had Pre-checked in," Audrey mused. "She already has her boarding pass. Her luggage is already processed. She won't make herself known at the boarding gate.

Perfect.,,

She started to move forward, but Oswald put a hand on her arm, holding her back.

She looked up at him in irritation. She saw his expression of inspiration.

"Let her get on board," he suggested quietly. "The flight is empty enough. We have the resources to get tickets. We'll get on board with her. We'll wait until she naps. We'll sit on either side of her. You'll 'help' her blow her nose. Then we'll get a blanket to cover everything but our heads. The lights in the cabin

will be off- We’ll go to work. We'll take her to the lav. We'll take her back to her seat. She'll get 'airsick’. We'll help her off the flight. We'll get a cab.

We'll find a nice, out-of-the-way hotel. We'll rent a flat. . . .

"Relax, Braniac," Audrey interrupted. "We don't have the time. Besides, that would quadruple the risk Of discovery. You'll have Your cake-and eat it too.

But on this side of the Atlantic. Come on, rocket boy."

The pair slowly made their way down the hall, toward the boarding gate, small duffel bags in their hands. They took up positions on either side of the wide, gloomy waiting area. There were only a few other people, and while they would occasionally glance at the packed, diminutive brunette, no one approached or made overtures- Here, as in every airport, people wanted their own space. They had their own fantasies and dreams of adventure. They didn't share. It is always advisable to arrive for an international flight at least an hour early. The unusual lateness of this flight made transportation to the airport even more difficult. So Clarissa was there with plenty of time to spare. She, and her stalkers, waited.

With fifteen minutes before the first boarding announcement was to he made-and the area filling with more people- Oswald made his way over to his sister. They had already done a thorough reconnaissance of the area and made their plans.

"What if she doesn't do it?" he asked quietly.

"Relax, would you?" his sister chided. "Don't worry about it. If the place crowds enough that it looks like somebody'll sit down next to her or if the time gets too short-- I'll just go over and say there is a call for her."

"She'll buy that?"

Audrey took her eyes off the little girl in the fashionable dark-colored jumpsuit to look at her brother with impatient disbelief. "I'll use her name, her flight number, her home phone number, etc. She'll immediately peg me as an authority in the know. I'll get her away from the waiting area, all right. . . .

Wait a minute. Look-"

They turned their heads to see Clarissa Hayes standing. She looked around. Her eyes flitted over them and kept going. She started making her way through the seats and the people around her.

"There," said Audrey. "See? As her anticipation grew, so did her need. She's making her move ten m inutes before boarding. Enough time to get the job done and still get on board if the excitement makes her want to go again."

"Amazing, Holmes-girl," her brother marveled.

"Elementary, my dear motherfucker," she replied.

"I work at a hospital, remember? I know all about biology."

Clarissa Hayes went by them and toward the ladies' room door. Audrey looked both ways, then slowly followed. Oswald waited until both had gone inside before ambling over to the spot.

It was just around a curve in the hallway, almost blocked from view of the boarding area. It was set back in a little alcove, directly across from the men's room door. But between the two doors was a third door-a door Oswald had already unlocked-the door to a broom closet.

The bathroom was a classic airport kind. There was a white-tile floor, a right wall lined with sinks and mirrors, and a left wall lined with stalls. Because of the hour and the distance from the airline entrance (these redeyes were always situated at the farthest gate), Audrey and Clarissa were the only ones inside.

The brunette had gone into a stall. She had unbuttoned her jumpsuit, undone the belt, and let both fall

around her ankles. She pulled down her pantyhose and sat. Audrey stayed by the door, far enough away so the girl wouldn't be aware of her presence.

She waited until Clarissa wiped, flushed, and stood. Audrey pushed open the door as a signal to Oswald, then marched toward the stall just beyond Clarissa's. She quickly put the duffel down on the toilet and unzipped it. She heard the door lock click open next to her.

Clarissa Hayes came out of her stall, tightening the belt around her. Audrey Rowland came out of her stall. She put her arm around the girl and the drugsoaked pad over the girl's thin, small mouth.

Clarissa cried out into the thick, muffling, binding cloth as she was yanked back. Her arms, held low to work the belt, were wrapped by a wider, thicker, more muscular arm. She was suddenly inside another booth, sandwiched between a wall and someone.

Audrey held the little package tight, pushing with her body and pulling with her arms. It was only a few seconds they had to worry about. Just the few seconds for the breathless shock to wear off and the drug to start taking effect.

Outside, Oswald nearly swore when another woman walked by him from the rear. The middle-aged lady had come up behind him. He had been watching the waiting area.

With hardly a glance (thinking he was waiting for someone inside), she slid by him, pushing open the ladies' room door. Without looking back, she went inside.

Clarissa wasn't aware of the entrance. She was finding it impossible to get any Purchase or leverage in her high heels. The material just wouldn't grab onto the slick tile. Walking in them had always been a matter of placing her weight carefully downwards. Her last coherent thought was that she should have worn her sneakers . . . but she had wanted to look good....

Audrey was very much aware of the other woman's entrance. She gripped the struggling little package even harder, while her ears were filled with the noise of the woman’s approach.

She held back a sigh when she beard a sink tap go on, and felt Clarissa slumping in her arms.

The other woman washed her hands and went into a stall three down from Audrey and Clarissa. Audrey pushed the cloth back into her duffel, grabbed Clarissa by the waist and started "helping" her to the door.

The seated woman saw the four feet going past the stall. They were all sliding-both the ones in the no-skid black shoes and the ones in the high heels.

Stupid drunks, she thought.

Audrey pulled open the door, and the comatose Clarissa was sandwiched between the Rowlands. Oswald pulled open the broom closet door and all three slipped in.

It hadn't taken more than five seconds.

Oswald pulled the door closed behind him. The three were sealed in the dark. A couple of people had noticed them, but no one thought the movements of the big man were unusual. When the door closed, they forgot about it entirely. In a few moments, a middle-aged woman came out of the ladies' room and walked into the waiting area, none the wiser.

They didn't even notice the sliver of light that appeared at the bottom of the broom-closet door.

It was a regulation broom closet. It was cramped and narrow, twelve-feet high, with shelves on either side and a big metal sink along the rear wall. Audrey had to push herself back, next to the rolling custodial cart under the right-hand shelves. Oswald looked down at the girl he held up by her arms.

Clarissa's oval head, with its curved, triangular jaw line, lolled around on her short neck. Her mouth was open, showing little white teeth with slightly protruding bicuspids. Her eyelids were flickering, like she was having some sort of particularly bad dream.

Oswald hauled her up, putting a big arm around her waist. He started unbuttoning her jumpsuit while Audrey started looking for her brother's duffel.

"Look at these, will you?" he marveled while she reached around their legs, trying to get her hands on the bag. He was looking down into Clarissa's outfit, at her braless chest encased in a black lace T-shirt.

The round, impressive orbs with the big brown areolas held firm high on her chest. "They've got to be Dcup, at least. Double-D!"

The T-shirt was form-fitting, see-through, and short enough to expose four inches of her midriff.

"Yes, yes," Audrey said with annoyance. "'There'll be time for this. The next few minutes are the most important!"

The redeye flight was late, of course. It was called for boarding on time, and the crowd dutifully got on, but the activity outside the gate was continuous for almost half an hour. Passengers, stewards, and airport employees were going past the broom-closet door continually.

Inside, Clarissa's eyes widened regularly, her face cheeks getting redder and bulging, ever time the man behind her squeezed her tits. That's what she had woke up to: her breasts being squeezed like balloons.

She had screamed in wonder, rage, and fear, but had horribly heard nothing. Then she realized something was over and in her mouth. Something big, soft, and barely yielding. Something that filled that orifice, pushed down her tongue, and pressed up on her lips.

She had looked down. She no longer had a botto part of her face. It was completely covered in what looked and felt like brown leather. But there was a i band of Yellow-white sponge between that and her skin. It stretched across on either side of her face, and there was a final, clinging band which held onto the bridge of her nose.

Clarissa had reached up to tear it off, thereby discovering her arms'

predicament. They were behind her, linked together from the mid-upper arm down.

Both arms were in a single long glove which was tightly laced around those limbs. It ended at her shoulders with straps which went around her shoulders, crossing at the top of her chest and buckled at her shoulder blades.

It ended at her fingers in a single mitten with a strap hanging down from it.

They had pulled the strap between her legs and affixed it to her belt buckle.

Her jumpsuit had been unbuttoned to the waist and pulled back. Her lace T-shirt had been pulled up, bunched just below the crossing straps.

Her bottom half was still sealed in her outfit. She was kneeling, her shoes still on, her ankles crossed and bound, her knees pulled wide and strapped to the base of the opposite shelves.

Still, the man held her down, in that kneeling position, his hands around her big boobs, his mouth all over her ears and neck.

"You hear that?" he whispered. "That's your flight leaving. Everyone thinks you're on it. Everyone thinks you'll be gone for days-weeks. They'll never know you're missing."

Clarissa started to cry in terror and confusion. She didn't know what was happening or why. She screamed for help and begged explanations, but the gag rendered it all distant and senseless.

Audrey had put in the prod first-- big, pliant, and wide so it would fill the girl's mouth-- and buckled it tightly behind her head, beneath her hair. Then she had buckled the anchor section (lined with thin, muffling sponge) over that, tightening the nose-holder so it wouldn't slip off no matter how Clarissa shook or bucked or rubbed.

"We're going to go on a little trip ourselves, baby," the man whispered. "Just you and me." He squeezed her tits again, pulling them wide, scratching at their nipples. Clarissa choked and gurgled, her head going back, wrenching herself from side to side.

"Okay," said Audrey, slipping back inside the broom closet. She had waited for the flight to board before retrieving her duffel bag from the lav. They couldn't risk anyone finding it and alerting security to a possible bomb threat.

Clarissa looked at her wide-eyed as the big woman kneeled beside her. "The flight is taxiing," Audrey informed them. "Time to get this show on the road before the clean-up crew gets here."

And there was that drug-soaked pad again. Clarissa tried to struggle, but the man held her head on either side of her face as the woman clamped the thing over her nose. Her body twisted and wiggled, her tits bobbing, as her captors covered her face. Her tiny cries grew even more dim, and finally subsided.

Outside the window, the jet aircraft took off into the night. Inside the airport, the custodial cart creaked down the hall.

It was the sort you could see everyday, everywhere: on its wagon a metal holder for brooms, mops, and litter pickers; in front a four-foot-tall, open, hanging bag to be filled with garbage.

The cart was being pushed by a wide woman in overalls. A big man in overalls was filling it.

Inside the bag was little, semiconscious girl. She was propped up on the two duffel bags, so she couldn't bang the cart bottom. Her shoes were off and laying beside her. Her ankles were bound side by side, as were her knees and thighs.

Then her upper thighs were bound to her ankles.

Then she was bent double, her legs bound to her torso. There was a rope going around her neck, which looped her knees, to keep them tight against her. Her hair was pulled down over her face, different braided strands of it carefully tied around the neck/knee ropes.

The single glove was even tighter on her arms, and the hands-strap was even more tightly attached to her tightened belt. Her T-shirt had been pulled back down, and her jumpsuit buttoned all the way back up. She was a little ball inside the garbage sack, paper towels, toilet paper, and napkins heaped on top of her.

"In here," said Audrey, opening another door to the side of the hall. "Until we found a way to get her out of this place."

They wheeled her into a luggage storage area. It was a big room, dimly illuminated by naked Yellow bulbs hanging from the ceiling. It was compartmentalized by double-decker steel-mesh bins, filled with luggage and crates bound for distant destinations.

"What do you mean 'until we find a way to get her out of here'?" Oswald complained once she closed the door behind them.

"What, can't we get her out of here like this?"

"People'll notice us taking a garbage container into the parking lot."

"At this time of night?"

" Of course!" she snapped.

"Especially at this time of night. The redcaps are on duty twenty-four hours, as are the dispatchers. Simply because it is so dead, they'll notice even the smallest unusual thing. But not tomorrow... at the height of the morning rush. "

Oswald didn't have to ask what they would do until then. Instead, he started pulling waste paper from the bag. "Wait a minute," he stopped. "Is this Place secure?"

"The redeye was the last flight for hours. The breakfast shift won't start until four in the morning."

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