The keeper - illustrated bondage story, part 50

Free bondage photos blog 30 November

“She felt left out....”

He nearly choked on the words. “The others...?”

His mother held up a hand. “Don’t concern your- self. Your concern is here....”

His other concerns had concerns of their own. Melissa was down on the cellar mattress, her head covered in a hood, her red hair pulled through a hole at the top and tied to a ring bolted into the foor. Her torso was in a straight jacket, further anchored with straps on the outside.

Her ankles were tied to her knees, and her shins to her thighs, then her legs were tied together, and stuffed into a duffel bag which was cinched just over her hips and under the jacket.

Her mouth was flled, her ears plugged, and her eyes covered. Just to be on the safe side, she was also rendered unconscious with his kidnapping drug. Upstairs in the bathroom closet, Barbara was in similar distress. In the narrow confnes, she lay on a mattress, her wrists in metal cuffs behind hr back, affxed to a bolt in the wall, and her ankles in another pair of handcuffs, their links also nailed to the opposite wall.

Over her head was a similar hood, likewise deaf, dumb, and blinded. The only difference was that her naked body was only covered with incredibly tight black straps which crushed the center of her tits, cinched her waist, and went down between her legs ... holding plugs in the orifces there. To further restrict her movements tape was around her thighs, knees, and shins.

Back at work, his mother kept a strict eye on the park- ing lot, using the van’s many mirrors. The super shock absorbers kept the vehicle from rocking unduly as he labored in the cargo area.

Dana’s legs were still spread, only now they were straight, her ankles tied to the far legs of the driver’s and front passenger’s seat. That put her frm rump on the edge of her seat, pushing up the micro-mini even more.

The point was moot in any case, because he then yanked the skirt up even further, until it was bunched around her hips. She wore nothing beneath.

Only the lowest jacket button remained in its eyehole, and it was straining to pop out of that as well. The la- pels were pulled wide, tight on her upper arms. one of his hands was in her hair, pulling her head back, while the other was grinding and squashing her luscious left tit. Their pelvises ground together, whirling and twist- ing like oil drills. His pants were around his ankles.

Dana grunted and burbled and hummed and gasped as he continued to stick it to her, no matter how she con- torted and shook. No matter what she did, the ropes were always there and his cock was always deep in- side her -rubbing and rubbing and rubbing the sides of her vagina, which was swelled bulbous with blood.

“No,” she tried to cry, her face, chest, and thighs slick with sweat, which shone in the shadowy recesses of the van. But all that emerged was a tiny, muffed cry as he pushed all the way inside her again.

Suddenly her head lolled back and he gripped the chair top on either side of her. He lay his body on hers, and pressed. Then, and only then, did he start thrusting in earnest. At frst slowly, powerfully, purposefully; and then with increasing vigor.

Dana jerked with each thrust, at frst her fngers twist- ing, her head coming up, and her upper lip trying to work out of the clamping pads and thick black leather. But then her head fell back again, a low moan com- ing out of the half-hood, and her frm, glistening body grew slack in the bonds.

He ficked open the last jacket button, and threw her garment wide. He lay back on her totally exposed front, wrapping his arms around her head and back, and kept thrusting. Her face was pressed against his shoulder and neck, her mounds crushed against him, but her brain was flled only by the buzzing in her cunt.

Finally he felt her quiver, then shake, then stiffen. Fi- nally he thrust up hard, froze, then ejaculated inside her. Realizing what he had done, she started to twist, but he merely flled his hand with one of her orbs and let it ooze through his fngers.

“There,” he said quietly. “All’s fair.”

Then his mother was suddenly there beside him, pull- ing him off her. She gave Dana a sudden, sharp punch in the solar plexus. The beautiful, ravished brunette’s head came grunting up, her skin red, her veins promi- nent and pulsing; but then her eyes grew unfocused, her eyelids futtered, and she went limp.

He said goodbye to his mother at the front gate. She waved back, then waved at the security man in the little guardhouse. He waved back. On the foor of the cargo space, Dana tried to scream, but it was impos- sible. Her neck was nestled against the rear seat leg, her throat roped to it -- the half-hood gag still on.

She lay on her chest, hogtied, her ankles crossed. In- side her jacket ropes crushed her tits. Under her skirt ropes cinched her waist and cut deeply through her vaginal lips. With every bump and pothole, coarse hemp dug into her breasts and cunt. The old woman was expert in fnding every speed bump and road construction crew.

“There,” she murmured, taking the long way home.

“That’s better, , isn’t it?” , isn’t it?”

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