Plaything 13



free rope bondage Bondage stories 2011 archive


"You can scream for help, but no one will hear you."
Megan tried it, shrieking as loud as she could-- bending from the waist, her
back straight, her head her face red, her neck tendons sticking out. These rooms
were made to swallow up shouts. Her cry was no more than a low lament.
"You can run, but where can you go?"
He was right. The room was large enough for her to bolt and dodge, but small
enough so there was no place to hide.
"You can fight, but you can`t punch," he said. "You`ve already seen how
effective your kicks are."
Come closer, asshole, she thought. But he didn`t. Instead, he just watched her
from the door and kept talking.
"So there you have it," he said quietly, reasonably. "You`re not getting out of
here without my permission. I`ll give you a couple of seconds to realize that."
He waited as Megan stared at him. He waited until she started to plead
plaintively through the gag.
"Oh, none of that," he chastised. "You think I buy any of that? That`s bullshit
begging. You`re just trying to get your way like you always do."
Megan stopped immediately, straightened, tried to pull open her mouth and tear
her hands from the cord.
She concentrated Completely on that. She bent, lowered her head, worked her
mouth, and yanked on her arms. The tape was too strong and sticky. The ball was
the perfect size to fill her cupie mouth, and the rope attached her wrists as if
they had been that way from birth.
The man kept talking. "This is no joke, Ms. Rogers. Or should I say, Ms. March?"
She stopped when she heard that. She stilled, looking at him from across the
room.
"You get it now, don`t you? You know you danced the dance, so now it`s time to
pay the fiddler. Right?" The man took a step toward her. "You`ve always been a
smart girl, haven`t you, Ms. Rogers? Twenty-four years old, but already quite
the little realist." He slowly made his way toward her, while she slowly made
her way back.

"You get it now, don`t you? You know you danced the dance, so now it`s time to
pay the fiddler. Right?" The man took a step toward her. "You`ve always been a
smart girl, haven`t you, Ms. Rogers? Twenty-four years old, but already quite
the little realist." He slowly made his way toward her, while she slowly made
her way back.
"You`ve always used your body to get what you want," he said, "so why should
this be any different, right?
You`ve always put a great deal of credence in your body, haven`t you? Because
everybody else did. Well,
good news, Ms. Rogers. I`m no different."
Megan felt the wall at her shoulders. The man stopped seven feet from her.
"What`s your body for, Ms. Rogers? You know, don`t you? Well, that`s what I
want. If you want to get out of this room, You have to get me off. Do you
understand?"
Megan stayed motionless against the far wall, like a wild deer hoping the beast
would not see her.
Suddenly the man surged forward. Oswald Rowland pinned Megan Rogers against the



wall, one hand on her arm, the other at her jaw.
"Get me off, Ms. March," he hissed into her face. "Get me off three ways or
you`ll never get out of here."
Outside the aerobics class continued, the students breathing a mental sigh of
relief that Megan Rogers wasn`t there to show them up. That she didn`t arrived
in her ridiculously skimpy and skintight outfit, to leap around with her tits or
ass sagging. That she didn`t easily bend her shape into any position the teacher
demanded and still look like a sex symbol.
Inside the weight room, Megan Rogers was on her tippy-toe. She had to be, to get
her pinioned hands high enough to reach inside Oswald`s sweat pants. Oswald
smiled as he stood behind her, watching her little deep purple nails gingerly
navigating behind her.
She was quite the accomplished slut, he thought. She had accepted her situation
almost immediately and was concentrating on accomplishing her goals. The object
was set up. She could leave if she got him off. She reached inside his pants.
Her fingers were cold and delicate, Oswald suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders
and swung her around to face the mirror.
Megan shrieked and mewed, cringing, her hands on his lower stomach.
"Now we can both see what`s what," he said. "Proceed."
She stared darkly at their reflection in the mirror. She was hunched over, her
shoulders working, her teeth biting down on the ball beneath the tape, then
releasing-biting, then releasing-air exhaled through her nose sharply every few
seconds.
Oswald put both his hands on her stomach from behind-- feeling her breathe
deeply-- the flesh rising and falling between the bottom of the cut-off Tshirt
and the elastic top of the tights.
Her fingertips found the shaft of his cock without problem. One hand wrapped
around its width while the other lightly held the crown. Megan sighed, leaning
back against him, her shaky stance widening.
He circled her waist with one arm and cupped her chin with his other hand,
bringing her head back to his shoulder. Her eyes were alternately smoldering and
glittering. She murmured at him through the gag.
"Right," he said. "It



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