The keeper - illustrated bondage story, part 11

Free bondage photos blog 26 September 2020

By the time she started fghting it was too late. She had already breathed in the drug. But she got a couple of seconds in which to fail with her arms and try kicking. She screamed again, cried out, and then bleated. But then her out stretched arms only fopped on the covers, and her legs bent at the knees and dropped. It was over in a few seconds. He felt her smooth clothes and skin beneath his. He felt his hard-on between her frm ass cheeks. He reared up on one elbow and looked down at her thoroughbred form. He appreciated her stylish gold earring, her two gold rings, and her elegant gold necklace. Then he reached around on either side of her torso, gripped through the shirt and bra, and picked her up by her tits.

Dana’s eyes snapped open. She lay on her bed, unable to see. She looked around her room wildly, realizing she didn’t have her contacts in or her glasses on. She dimly remembered falling, feeling a weight, and sinking into her many small, square pillows atop the bed -- but that was all.

She tried to get up. only her legs and shoulders reacted to her brain’s order. And even that was strange. She looked down at her legs, but all she could see were feshy blobs beneath a gray haze. She could see out her small bedroom window, across the street, fne. Being far-sighted, she could see into the distance, but everything close up was an indistinct mist.

She concentrated. Her middle thighs seemed to be stuck together. She tried getting up again, but only her shins and feet moved. She tried to sit up on her elbows, but all she did was jerk in place. Finally she felt the pain at her shoulders.

Dana made a noise. All she heard was a muffed grunt. She said “what the fuck,” but all she heard was a distant mumble.

He smiled as her eyes got very big and stared down at the obstructions just under her nose. Finally she felt all of it: the pain at her shoulders the strain at her elbows, the fre at her wrists, the pressure around her head, the obstruction in her mouth, the pinch across her thighs, and the imprisonment of her feet.

He had been impressed. He discovered that her elbows could touch in back. He had tied them together with rope right off. Then he had tied her wrists palm to palm. He had lifted her skirt even farther, and tied her legs together at mid-thigh. Then he had smoothed the skirt down again. He had taped her shoes on.

He had stuffed a beanbag in her mouth, so her jaw was pried wide. Then he had tightly circled her head with an absorbent, stretchy fesh-colored ace bandage. Finally he had tied another swath of thin white bandage across the middle of that, to keep the beanbag tight behind her teeth.

Dana felt it all. Her back arched, her head went all the way back, and she screamed.

She screamed for help again and again, but the sound hardly left the room. It certainly didn’t get through the closed windows. And since she was on the second foor, no one from outside could see her -- even though more and more executives were coming home on the suburban residential street.

She kept her wits about her; he certainly gave her that. Almost immediately, she turned toward the wall dividing the duplex. If she could alert her neighbors to her plight, she could get help. Dana stopped screaming, but not before beads of perspiration started ap- pearing on her brow.

She threw her legs off the side of the bed, and tried sitting up. It took her three tries. She then scrunched her ass around, and sat. She leaned down, moaning, trying to pull her hands free or dislodge the gag. She seemingly begged the wall for help, but that didn’t do any good.

He watched with amusement as she tried standing up. She fell back. She tried to kick her shoes off, but they wouldn’t go. She shook her torso, like a frisky colt, but nothing gave. The buttons of her shirt were tight around her chest, but they didn’t give either. He could make out the heaving mounds beneath. He almost stepped toward her then, but resisted. She fnally managed to get to her feet, by carefully placing her shoes and anchoring her legs. Then she pushed off with her hands while snapping her torso upwards.

She teetered in place for a moment, then regained her balance. She pleaded with the wall. Then she gingerly, carefully, and purposefully started walking toward it.

She had to take tiny little steps so she wouldn’t topple over, and had to bend down to divide her weight. Her breasts were the biggest danger, since they were disproportionate with her small, belted waist, and long, strong legs. So she had to let them hang in the bra for ballast.

He saw what she was going to do. If she got close enough, she had enough legroom to kick the wall, or maybe pound it with her shoulder. He let her get within six inches, then grabbed her arm, giggling. She screamed in surprise. She had not seen him there. She wrenched and pulled against his grip, but he didn’t let go. He didn’t want her falling and maybe hurting herself.

“Oh no,” he said. “You’re not going anywhere.”

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The keeper - illustrated bondage story, part 18


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