The keeper - illustrated bondage story, part 58

Free bondage photos blog 6 December 2020

Melissa woke in the cellar, where she had begun. To her terror, she was wearing a dancer’s, deep red, push-up bra-type top and a matching miniskirt which exposed most of her torso. On her legs were leg warmers and on her feet were tight, fve-inch red patent highheels.

Her wrists were strapped behind her with plastic as were her elbows, ankles and knees. In her mouth was a disgustingly pliant penis-prod gag which crushed her lips and cheeks, and secured tightly beneath her hair at the base of her head.

She lay on her side on the mattress which reeked of sweat and semen, but her ankles weren’t secured to the foor ring, nor was her neck. Other than the straps which held her as if she were a package, she was to crawl. Using her dancer’s body and muscles, she slithered off the mattress and across the cold concrete foor.

Her cheek against the bottom cellar step, she twisted around until she could place her dainty hands against the stair top and lift her tight ass onto it. Within minutes she was on the landing halfway up the stairwell, leaning against the door, gasping for breath, sweat pouring down her chest and thighs. Drool covered her chin and neck, slipping down between her rammed up, forward, and together mounds.

Beginning to take another surge upwards, the door on the landing opened and her top half fell outside with a muffed bleat.

She looked up, just catching a glimpse of a dark fgure towering above her before a thick, padded cloth was clamped over her lower face.

Melissa screamed and bucked and writhed, but within seconds she felt very, very tired. She felt herself being lifted up. Her ankles snapped free and then her knees. She felt something being wrapped over her shoulders and head. Its fapping nearly drowned out words. It may have been “Gotta make it tougher for the tiny dancer,” but then she was being led away, like a novice nun just accepted into the order. She fell into the back seat of a car and a burly shape pushed in beside her.

She lay resting, her head on a substantial lap, as the car moved. She dimly remembered that she always slept on long car trips when she was a little girl. She slept on her mommy’s lap....

Some time later the car stopped and she emerged from the thickest part of the fog. She became aware that something was being pulled out of her mouth, then a quiet voice said “We’re home,” and she was being carefully pulled to a sitting position.

“Can’t I just stay here?” she moaned, almost surprised to hear her own tiny voice.

“Oh no, no, dear,” whispered another voice immediately, suffocating her surprise. “We have to go in. Your sister and brother-in-law missed you....”

“Brother-in-law...?” she muttered, eyelids futtering as hands pulled her gently from the car to stand on wobbly feet in the driveway. What was it about that name that set off a distant alarm...with a bell that seemed pressed tightly under two pillows in the back of her mind. But then a wet pad was placed frmly over her mouth and under her nose, and arms beneath hers led her up a path she knew so well....

They only stopped a moment on the porch and then she was standing in the musty warmth of her family’s front room. The familiarity and relief was so great that Melissa’s eyes sleepily opened for a split second. She was looking straight into the mirror above the coat hooks in the entry way.

What she saw was a lovely young girl in a hooded raincoat, sandwiched between a man and an older woman. She almost noticed what they looked like but was distracted by the girl’s beautiful mane of wavy, deep red hair; her sweet, fresh, pretty, sleepy, face; and her amazingly sexy, trim, sleek, kittenesque body—with the tiny waist; long, tapered legs; and a surprisingly impressive chest.

The jello-mold orbs were high, strong, and frm on their own, but the way the dance top rammed them together and up...! “Who’s... who’s that?” Melissa murmured into the cloth, wishing she looked that way.... But then the cloth was pushed more frmly onto her face and she felt herself being led through the living room and up the stairs.

Dana couldn’t believe it when the velvet hood was pulled from her head. She stared, horrifed, into the face of the ugliest man she had ever seen. His skin looked like torn, boiled sand paper. His eyes were red and livid. His hair was like burned and matted ash across his livid, scabbed skull. His beard was gray and thick and overgrown—stained with spittle and crumbs.

And his breath...!

“Here,” he croaked. “Over here. Look at this, would ya?”

Dana tried to stare beyond him, but all she saw in the gloom was shambling, fuzzy, hulking shadows. What they saw was a petrifed young brunette strapped to a cellar upright, her arms behind her and her mouth covered with some sort of gluey mesh. Otherwise she was as naturally lovely as any of them could imagine. Her suit jacket was wrenched open, the top two buttons on her shirt had popped off, and they could all see her ample boobs swelling in an expensive, light gray, satin, lace scalloped bra.

“Hey baby,” slurred the man in front of her. “What ya doin’ here?”

“Help me,” she said at him, the words mangled by the gag. “Hep muh!”

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