Plaything 9 | ball gag bdsm stories

"Who the hell is that?" asked Oswald.

"How the hell should I know?" Calvin retorted.

"Take it easy," Audrey said mildly. "Take care of it," she told the stepfather.

"They'll go away," Calvin said irritably.

"And maybe get some friends," said Audrey. "Better take care of it now ... so we won't be interrupted later.

Calvin was indecisive until the doorbell rang again. He headed for the stairs, but pointed at Oswald. "Don't fuck her," he warned. "I got familial rights, remember?"

Oswald held his hands up in mock innocence.

"Just don't fuck her," Calvin said. "Don't you fuck her." He went down the stairs quickly as Oswald looked down at Kirby. He sighed, and sat down on the bed. The Rowlands sat on either side of the groggy girl.

Calvin went across the living room and opened the front door. It was Bobby, Kirby's bartender friend. "What do you want?"

"I’ve come to help Kirby," he said sullenly, starting to come in.

"She s gone," Calvin said quickly.

Bobby stopped in his tracks. "What?"

"You heard me," said Calvin. "She's gone."

The words carried up the stairs. They could barely be made out in the bedroom.

Oswald looked at Audrey, who acted nonchalantly. Neither one was panicked. If the kid made it upstairs, he would be taken care of.

"What do you mean, gone?" Bobby was saying "She couldn't pack that fast."

"She didn't pack," Calvin said quickly. "She said she'd have the stuff sent. To her. When she got a place. Got settled."

"What is this shit."

"Look, kid," said Calvin, thinking fast. "She said she wouldn't spend another second in this house. Wouldn't spend a second longer than she had to. She grabbed some stuff and took off."

Audrey frowned in appreciation, and nodded. They had done their research well.

This Brad Calvin was one slick con. Kirby began to stir on the bed between them, rolling a little this way and that.

Bobby turned to go, already believing what Calvin had said. It made sense.

Everybody knew Kirby hated her old man, and eve one knew her temper was mercurial. A girl with those looks was used to having her freedom and her way.

He didn't doubt for a second that Kirby would dump him and the whole town without a second thought.

But then he froze, and turned back. "What about her car?" he asked Calvin point blank. Kirby's old red

Mustang was in the driveway.

"What about it?" Calvin asked blankly, stalling for thinking time. Upstairs, Kirby's eyes snapped open and she began to complain. Oswald and Audrey just looked down at her.

"What did she take off in?" Bobby said angrily. "That's her car!"

"Wrong," said Calvin sharply. "That's my car."

Bobby was ready to force his way in, but the wiry man's words took him aback.

"What do you mean?"

Kirby babbled at the Rowlands, but they just looked blankly at her. She tried to move, tried to stand, tried to yell, and failed. She looked around frantically for something she recognized. She froze when-she heard the voices from downstairs. Audrey and Oswald heard her cry out a muffled version of "Bobby?"

"Just what I told you, kid," Calvin answered the bartender. "That's my car.

Yeah, sure, she wanted to take off in it. She wanted to use it, but I had to remind her whose name the title is in."

"Are you nuts or something?" Bobby seethed.

"Baa-eh?" Kirby called again, trying to gain some balance on the bed. She threw her head back and screamed as loud as she could: "Baa-eh!"

"The little bitch was going to take it anyway," said Calvin sourly, "until I said I'd call the cops on her. Out-of-state bear ain't too crazy about grand theft auto."

"You bastard!" Bobby exclaimed.

Kirby started gasping, the ball in her mouth cutting off a lion's share of her air. When Bobby didn't respond to her cries, she tried to sit up. It was a major effort, her head snapping back and forth between looking at Oswald and looking at Audrey. They didn't do anything-- just sat and watched her progress calmly.

Kirby managed to sit at the edge of the bed, her eyes widening at the sight of her panties tied at her knees. Then she stared at the slice in her neckline and hem. She started to make little wailing noises, pulling at her wrist bonds. She would lean over at the waist, bawling, then sit up to gasp in more air, then lean over again.

Downstairs, Calvin shrugged. "Hey, I tried my best, buddy boy. I tried to act like a father to her, but she never gave me a chance. But you must know what that's like. She never gave anybody a chance.

Bobby had to stare into space again. Boy, was that ever right.

Kirby carefully placed her high-heeled feet down on the bedroom carpet and started to maneuver her weight forward. She had to hold her breath to get the strength. She pulled her butt across the bedclothes to the very edge of the mattress. The Rowlands watched her diffidently.

Kirby hauled herself up, her arms bending, pain from her tightly bound wrists shooting through her.

She couldn't get the breath to do anything but stand. She teetered beside the bed, her back to her strangely uninvolved audience. Turning her head to the left, she started to take careful, panty-constricted steps away.

"Face it, Bobby boy," said Calvin downstairs. "She's gone. She took what she needed and left."

Kirby began to get the hang of it. Her steps became more rapid. And with each step, she got her wind back. Her strength grew. She turned around the edge of the bed and headed for her bedroom door. She began to cry out again, repeatedly.

"Yeah," said Bobby, mostly to himself. "I guess so. Man, what a bitch." He wasn't really aware of the double entendre.

Kirby was doing a little shuffling run for her door, making tiny shrieking noises, when Oswald suddenly whipped himself around, bounced across the mattress, and came up along side her.

Kirby got off her loudest screech of the afternoon just as Oswald wrapped his an-n around her head and held her to him by her mouth.

Downstairs, Calvin almost whipped his head around at the creaking sound from downstairs, but he stopped just in time. Instead, he looked at Bobby, who was still staring off in the distance. "You said it, brother," he told him quietly.

Oswald smiled beneficently over at Kirby, whose face was scrunched around his hand. She was forced to lean against him, her fingers scratching at his torso, as he kept her moving to the bedroom door.

He "accompanied" her into the hallway, "chaperoning" her to the head of the stairs. They stood there, Kirby moving like a frisky, unsure colt, as Oswald held his hand tightly over her balled mouth.

"You wanted to say something?" he whispered. "Well, go ahead. Say it." Then, incredibly, he took his fingers from her lips

Kirby stared at him in fear and amazement. He was back to being the indifferent audience. He just looked back at her, eyes veiled.

Kirby's head snapped face front. It moved forward on her neck, the tendons sticking out. Her visage grew flushed. Her mouth opened wider to make sound around the ball.

And Oswald Rowland suddenly put his hands on the small of her back and her solar plexus. He pushed.

All the air was forced out of Kirby's lungs. She stood there, stunned, unable to breathe, unable to make a sound.

"Yeah," said Bobby downstairs. "Well, I guess I better be going then."

Kirby's eyes were entirely open. Her eyebrows were arced up, pining for each other. She had a look of desperation and pain on her face. Her shoulders hunched. She grunted. She drew herself up as the air flowed back into her lungs.

She started to scream.

Oswald pressed her solar plexus again.

"I guess so," said Calvin downstairs.

Kirby doubled over, knock-kneed, her head over the stairs. Sweat popped out all her facial pores, and her skin mottled. Her tits flounced against her sliced neckline, and the skirt was tight around her legs as she tried to widen her stance.

Oswald heard her shudder. She started straightening like a worm trying to break through the earth's surface.

She choked when he pressed her stomach again.

"Nothing for me here, right?" said Bobby.

"I guess not," said Calvin.

Calvin heard the thud right after he closed and locked the door after Bobby. He ran to the stairwell to find Kirby stretched out at the top of the stairs, her hair bunched across her face, her torso shaking.

"What did you do to her?" Calvin demanded.

"Kept her breathless-ah," said Audrey, coming up behind Oswald.

Calvin dragged Kirby up the wall by her arms, pushing her hair back, revealing the big red ball still in her mouth. She cringed when she saw him, tears of frustration beginning to well out of her eyes.

"There, there, darling," he drawled, mopping her brow. His duplicity and the knowledge of her presence had gotten him all excited. "I'm just doing what you want. You're starting a new life. Right now."

With that, he tugged down both sides of her dress top. Her tits flopped free. He put his knee between her legs. He grabbed one side of her hair and pulled to his left. He pressed himself against her. He started sucking, licking, and biting her neck.

Kirby looked over her stepfather's shoulder at the big man and wide woman who stared at her with apathy, and started crying in terror.

All the shades were drawn. All the curtains were closed. All the wooden shudders were locked. They let her move around the house . . . such as she could.

The slit dress was gone. The shoes were still on, and her panties were still at her knees, but the dress had been cut off. She had stood there, shivering and crying in her walk-in closet, as the brother and sister redressed her.

Now the red leather miniskirt was covering her haunches and the black satin scoop-neck top was on her torso. The left side of the blouse was hanging down (the strap on her forearm), exposing her left tit.

Her wrists were still tied side by side. Her elbows were cinched behind her. The red ball gag was still in her mouth.

They hadn't fucked her yet. Calvin had mauled and slobbered, but had stopped just short of actually raping her. Instead, he had suddenly broken off his attentions and let the others take her back into the bedroom. Then the day had degenerated into a horrid satire of her previous life.

They had secured the house, making sure no prying eyes could witness her strange degradation. Then they left her alone. They left her standing there, her wrists and knees cinched, her mouth pried open.

Downstairs, she heard the television go on. She hard Calvin go to the fridge for a beer.

Kirby blinked in wonderment. She minced over to her bed and carefully sat down.

She tried to rationally think about what was happening. But every time fear gripped her, making her quiver and cry.

She tried moving her hands up-tried getting the blouse's strap up so her left tit would be covered. She couldn't do it, no matter how far she twisted and contorted. She felt goose bumps across her arms and chest. She felt herself blush.

But no one came in. Oswald was right outside the door, just out of her sight, but no one came in.

Kirby looked at the shuddered window, wondering what it would take to break the glass pane beyond. Then she wondered whether anyone would even notice one lone window breaking. She wondered if anyone would be alarmed. She decided no one would. By the time she could have made any neighbor aware of her predicament, one of her captors would have collected her and hidden her away.

Cinderella, she thought.

It took her many minutes to get down the stairs. She had to step very carefully so she wouldn't fall head first. And with each step, she tested the strength of her knees' panty prison. The damn thing, the protection of herself, was surprisingly tough. She couldn't snap it. She could barely start the white lace panel ripping.

She stood at the bottom, disoriented by the scene confronting her. Calvin sat on one side of the sofa, watching TV. The big man was in the easy chair. The wide woman was in the rocking chair. They looked at her as if it were just another day.

"Come here," said Calvin, motioning absently.

Kirby stood still, acutely aware of how the red leather hugged her thighs, and how her breasts moved in and out of the black satin with every breath.

"I said come here," Calvin repeated. "Come here, girl, before I come get you."

Kirby considered trying to bolt for the door, her panties be damned. But what would she do once she got there? How could she unlock it in time? How could she run from them this way?

She started taking careful, mincing steps toward the couch.

"Sit down," said Calvin.

She did as she was told-- on the far side of the sofa. She sat with her knees tightly together. If she

couldn't rip the panties apart, maybe she could in make them slip to her ankles.

She concentrated, ignoring the sports show. The others drank beer and watched the tube.

"Get over here," said Calvin.

Kirby looked at him, mewed, and cringed away.

"It's halftime," her stepfather said. "Get over here!"

Kirby started to sidle around, started to turn away toward the front door.

Calvin dove across the couch, his fingers grabbing at her hips.

She shrieked as he pulled her back, across his lap, getting a good grip on her exposed breast. She stilled, lying heavily on his legs, as he squeezed and bounced the sagging nippled ball. He played with her all during the halftime break.

"All right," he said sternly. "Halftime's over. Time to take your place." With that, 'he forced her to the floor at his feet. Then he put his feet on her-using her as a foot rest for the rest of the game.

Afterwards, the wide woman took her to the bathroom. Kirby moaned in anger and shame.

"Now, none of that, child," said Audrey. "You haven't been very nice to the men folk out there. Simple rule, dear. If you want to leave the place, you have to know your place."

Audrey waited for her to get over her tenseness. She had plenty of time to spare. Oswald was relaxing, getting his strength and wit back up after a grueling few days. He appreciated not having to go on the attack again immediately. Audrey needed all his power if they were going to pull off what they planned here.

When Audrey brought Kirby back to the living room, Calvin was already standing and stretching. "Well, that's that, then," he said. "Early to bed, early to rise." He took a good long look at his stepdaughter. "You get a good, long rest tonight, hear? I'll be sleeping on it. Tomorrow we get to decide what to do with you." The man looked at the brother/sister team. "Well?"

"Don't worry," said Oswald from the easy chair.

"We'll tuck her in real tight."

"No...... Calvin started, but couldn't even bring himself to say it in front of the girl. "No . . . you know. Right?"

Oswald stayed silent. "Right," said Audrey. "Trust us. You'll be the first. We swear."

"Good," said Calvin. "I'm going to bed."

Oswald waited until the man was up the stairs before he surged out of his seat and gripped Kirby tightly by the arm and left tit. He squeezed and twisted both.

Audrey put her hand over Kirby's balled mouth so Calvin couldn't hear even the small sounds of terror and pain she made.

"Yeah," Oswald seethed in her ear. "No you know'-but everything else. Let's get you ready for bed, sweetheart!"

Kirby screamed around the ball and under Audrey's hand. She struggled as Oswald dragged her deeper into the house. He tugged tier to the basement door and practically carried her down the cellar steps.

It was an old-fashioned place, with a dirty cement floor, coarse cement walls, and a wooden ceiling lined with pipes. There was a freezer, a furnace, and a work bench.

Oswald got her behind the furnace and started pulling up her leather skirt.

Kirby started to shake, but Audrey got her hand around the girl's throat, forcing her upright-and squeezing her neck to keep her relatively still.

Oswald forced his hand between her legs and got his fingers into her cunt. His other had grabbed her flouncing tit.

"Now there are two ways this can go," he growled. "I can make you hot or I can make you hurt. Your choice." His fingers started moving.

Kirby made a rattling moan, her head going back to his shoulder, tears squeezing out from the comer of her tightly shut eyes.

"Got to get you ready for bed, dear," said Audrey, keeping one hand on her throat and the other over her mouth.

"Come on, honey," grunted Oswald. "Do your part. I'm giving you a hand job. You give me one. Show me how it's done. I'll do to you exactly what you do to me."

Oswald took a moment to get his prick out and drop it in her bound hands. Then his hands returned to her privates.

Kirby gave out a gargling groan, her fingers holding his heavy shaft.

"Go on, bitch," Oswald warned. "Or I'll do exactly what I want to you!" He squeezed both her tits hard for emphasis.

Kirby shrieked and straightened, his hands starting to move. Then they all fell into a sticky but steady rhythm.

Oswald was as good as his word. If she carefully and completely caressed his cock, he would carefully and completely caress her chest and cunt. If she concentrated on getting him off, he would concentrate on getting her off. Audrey kept her grip on the sweaty neck and working lips as the girl whimpered and surged.

"What's going on down there?" they heard from the head of the stairs. It was Calvin's voice.

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