Jelena: Mistaken Address | chair gagged | illustrated bondage stories
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My name is Jelena, and that used to be the most unusual thing about me. I had a boring job, my boyfriend never wanted to do much beyond hanging at in clubs, I was just your average girl next door. Well, I guess I'm attractive to men, but I always thought I should lose some weight; my boyfriend insisted that I'd be crazy to diet much, but I'd see pictures of models and wonder. I mean, their clothes fit so well, and I always have to worry if my top fits right.
Sorry, I got off track. I was telling about how my life changed from ho-hum to Hollywood thriller. The police told me that it was all a case of the drug gang mixing up addresses, and that down the block from my little place was one of the biggest stashes of cocaine, heroin, ectasy, you name it, in the whole city. Someone tried to rip off one of the big Colombian dealers and the word on the street was that the missing drugs were at 96 Spruce St--- and I live at 69 Spruce!
So in the middle of the night, I was sound asleep when the gang slipped inside. My boyfriend was out of town and I was all by my lonesome, so they had no problem pulling me out of bed and demanding that I tell them where the drugs were. Nothing I could think of to say persuaded them that I had no idea what they were talking about, but I guess they figured I was just the dumb girlfriend so they gagged me and tied me to a chair while they ransacked the place.
I struggled with all my might to get my hands or feet free, or to get that nasty gag out of my mouth, but it was hopeless--- and even if I had, they were all over the place, so how could I have escaped? They tore up everything--- every cushion ripped open, all our books pulled off the shelves, holes knocked in the walls to look for secret vaults--- it was a disaster, and all I kept hoping was they would leave me alone once they realized I didn't have what they wanted.
But I guess they figured I had seen all their faces.
The sun had already come up when they brought in a metal tub from the basement and untied my feet just long enough to stick them in. Then one of the guys went out to their truck and brought back a bag of cement! I strained against the ropes and tried to scream, but they just laughed-- until one of them ripped my nightie off. Then their eyes got big, but I didn't care about them staring, I just tried so hard to get free. But I was helpless, and as the concrete hardened I knew it was getting worse for me.
They threw a blanket over me, chair, tub and all and 3 of them carried me out to the truck. All I could do was hope my "mmmmppppfffing" would attract some attention, but I guess it was too early in the morning. In the back of the truck, two of them felt up my boobs and thighs, laughing, and I couldn't do anything to stop them. As we got towards the pier, I could smell the salt air and knew they planned to drop me off the side! If the driver hadn't run that stop sign, I don't even want to think about what would have happened to me. All I can say is, I've never seen anything as beautiful as the cop who opened up the door to the truck!
And you know... he said the same thing about me!
