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office woman chair bound

Ensconced in her Spring Valley condo, Lisa was immersed in her latest crime scoop for the Review-Journal, typing furiously as her deadline juices flowed.

The comely journalist with the long blonde hair and even longer legs—her best asset, she believed, and which she loved to show off in microminis—did not hear the heavyset man in the ski mask enter through her kitchen door and sneak up behind her at her computer.

"Hello again, Mizz Steele," his gruff voice broke the steady clacking of keys.

"Jesus Christ!" Lisa blurted as she whirled around in her chair. "You scared the—" She stopped when she saw the knife the man held to her throat. “I—I thought you were in prison, Murtaugh."

"Call it an unscheduled furlough to take care of some unfinished business, bitch."

Lisa gulped, feeling the steel blade press into her skin. ”Are you going to kill me?"

"Not if you keep your fucking mouth shut and do exactly what I say, understand?"

Still quaking, the blonde nodded silently, then watched as the man whose lengthy prison term for extortion resulted from her investigation of his company's shady construction contracts pulled a coil of rope from beneath his billowing orange T-shirt.

"I can kill you in a second, bitch, so don't even think of trying anything," he warned as he shook out the rope. “Now, put your hands behind your back like a good girl."

Nodding, big blue eyes closed, Lisa did as she had been told, gasping as he bound her wrists roughly—and tightly—behind her.

"And keep that irritating mouth of yours shut!" he growled. “No one will hear you if you scream, and I'll just have to crack you one across that pretty face." Still, he wrapped a white scarf between her red lips before he pulled out more rope, which he used to bind her upper arms and chest. “Like you wrote, we may have been corrupt, but at least we knew how to build a solid fucking unit!" He knotted the rope harshly.

God, what an irony! Lisa thought glumly as he produced even more rope, which soon held her fast to her chair at the thighs and ankles. The kid next door loved to blast his metal, and she could barely hear it.

"No, I'm not going to kill you,” he rasped, and Lisa stiffened as his meaty hand now stroked her inviting expanse of thigh, her nylons rustling softly. "Fucking cockteaser!" Lisa whimpered as his eyes began to glow. "You wore this slutty outfit to impress that asshole prosecutor, didn't you?" Nis grin flashed lewdly from the mouth opening of the ski mask. "For nine months I've been thinking how wet and tight your educated cunt must feel as I fucked my cellmate in the ass—" His teeth gleamed. "—Although now that I'm used to that, I may fuck you there instead!"

“Oh, my Sod—you're going to rape me!"

"Not just me—I'm getting the band back together just for you, bitch. We're going to make you pull the train." His hard eyes burned with triumph. “That'll warm you up for that Nogales whorehouse you'll be chained up in soon."




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