Longtime lurker, first time poster. Hope you like it.
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Kim turned a corner, cautiously, creeping her way down a stone arch in a strange mansion, the sound of festivities distant in the background. The house was huge, and she slipped away, saying she was looking for the bathroom, but really she was planning to satisfy her cleptomaniac jones and look for something to steal. Her slim black dress was tailored to draw the eye to her breasts and hips and away from her overly large clutch, which she held under her voluptuous breasts. Her figure was something to brag about. 36DD over a narrow waist and rounded hips, she was nearly perfect in her symmetry, and it had served her well. Brunette, with shoulder-length curly hair and olive skin, she was not too bad from the shoulders up either.
As she crept through unfamiliar hallways and poking into what she hoped were bedrooms, she held her breath. She usually didn't wear heels, so walking was a little clumsy because she tried to walk silently. Not wearing stockings was probably a bad idea.
As she slipped into a dimly lit bedroom, she came across an ornate jewelry box, standing against the wood-lined walls, which she moved toward silently. A sudden light blinded her, startling her and nearly drawing a scream. In the same instant, her clutch was snatched out of her hand and she could hear it flung across the room.
She assumed, as she had prepared herself for, that someone suspected she was there to steal, and she had her excuses ready.
As her eyes adjusted to what she could now tell was a flashlight, in the shadows behind the jewelry box were two men, standing casually, unnervingly staring at her like a piece of meat.
One, taller, blond, dressed in jeans and a black sweater. Spoke first.
"I'll tell you what. If you can make it out the door before I catch you, you get away and this will just be a confusing memory."
The other one, shorter and stockier, with a shaved head and greying goatee, stared at her maliciously. He was dressed in a long-sleeve grey t-shirt and jeans as well.
She stared at both for a moment, not taking in what was going on. She considered screaming, but did not know if anyone could hear her, so far from the party and with the music turned up so loudly.
The bald one swiftly circled behind her, cutting off the entrance she had used. In front of her, behind the blond, was an open door she had not previously seen. She always carried a taser with her, in her clutch, which was now 15 feet away behind the bald hulk.
It came as a shock, but when she realized what he planned to do (not exactly what, but something), she panicked. She started to run. Her tight black dress and heels did nothing to help her panic, and she clopped about twenty feet when they were on her roughly.
"Well, you tried, he said smugly." "Not a good day to wear a dress and heels. I’ll just help you correct that problem."
The bald one grabbed her arms and held them behind her while, before she could make a noise, held her while the other tore her black dress straight down – and there beneath in torch light were enormous, tan, jiggly breasts crammed into a black lacy bra. They gentled swayed from side to side as Kim struggled, now screaming for help but knowing no one would hear. It only seemed to excite them. They then hungrily pulled her out of the dress, and as they got to her ankles, they slipped her high heels off, exposing her bare feet, also tan and freshly adorned with nail polish. Then they let her go.
"Last shot."
The bald one released her, and she desperately fled into the darkness of the unknown hallway. She stumbled down a flight of stairs, and shrieked as she bolted, unencumbered, having no idea where she was. Her heavy breasts wobbled and strained her bra as she tried self-consciously to cover them, still not quite believing what was happening. She could not imagine what lay in store for her.
The walkway narrowed again, and she moved into a heavy wooden door at the end and was frozen when she saw where she was. Trapped. No way out. Littered through the room was what appeared to be ancient furniture, for what purpose she could not imagine. She turned to see if there were another way out.
The men moved in behind her, slowly, impossibly close behind her.
"I figured you’d end up here," said the blonde. He pointed casually toward a section of wall indistinguishable from that around it. "Trap doors, secret halls. You know."
With that, they each grabbed an arm and carried the struggling nearly-naked woman to a set of what she could now tell were medieval stocks.
The bald man made his first sound, a slight giggle, as he released her arm grabbed her ankles and roughly turned her over to secure her ankles in the stocks with an audible click--with her wriggling feet upturned--and helped her kneel on a plush velvet stool. They quickly forced her arms upward to be shackled to fur-lined cuffs hanging from the ceiling.
"You can struggle as much as you want. These devices will keep you nice and secure."
As her eyes began to adjust to the dim light, she could now see what amounted to a torture dungeon. Who knew how often these men had used these facilities. A magician's table, an angled board with cuffs at the top, what appeared to be a rack. Strewn along the floor were all manners of chains, straps and pulleys. Her imagination could not conceive of what kind of people had this in their homes.
The blonde man pulled a pair of scissors from his back pocket. Kim gasped and began shaking her head.
He reached up and gently cut both bra straps. Her breasts burst forth like blooming flowers, slowly swinging back and forth like pendulums.
"And to make the package complete." He snipped the tiny panties Kim had squeezed herself into that morning, popping them off and showing her well-manicured bush and beautiful, round ass.
"Shy," he teased. "You’ll get over it. Or not. You can’t really do anything about it right now anyway, can you?"
Kim was flush with fear. "Why me?" She retraced her steps, trying to figure out how they could have figured out what she had been doing. Did they know I was there to steal? How? She had done this so many times before that she always conservatively covered her steps.
He smiled. "Why not?"
With that, he pulled a red ball gag from his pocket and applied it gently to her mouth, delicately tightening it at the back of her head. She could clearly breathe and make noises, but could not speak, ending any possibility of negotiation.
"No one downstairs is missing you, and we already had someone tell everyone you were seen leaving," he said, not taking his eyes off her perfect tan breasts. "Your car has already been moved somewhere secure, so it will not look suspicious."
He continued plainly.
"We plan to sexually torture you for about a day or so." Her eyes widened in horror as she pulled pitifully at the straps. "But we are not going to hurt you, nor will we leave a mark. You may like it, but you probably will not."
He looked at the other man, standing behind her, breathing heavily. "I start with her tits, you take her feet. Oh, and let's just call her Patient. No reason to make up a name for her."
He clearly relished cupping her breasts, hanging with the weight only natural ones could. He then began gently, then more vigorously, massaging them, paying special emphasis to the small, faint nipples. He drew small circles around them with the heels of his palms, sending shock waves through her body.
Meanwhile the other was now sitting near her feet. She was aware he was about to do something, and she tried to use one to cover the other, but they were too far apart.
He began to stroke one of her feet, firmly grabbing the toes of her right foot and tracing it with one finger. Se could not believe she was being tickled. Her mind blanked of all thought but how to resist the overwhelming sensation, but nothing worked. Her heart pounded and breath caught as she strained against it, heaving her chest into the blond's face. It was a nightmare for her. She could not stand it, and lovers who had tried to tickle her never got their calls returned if she suspected it was something they were into.
He tickled aggressively, switching to both hands on both feet, savoring the sensation of her soft, writhing flesh against his fingernails. She alternated contracting her soles and extending them, hoping something could alleviate the sensation. Nothing did.
Meanwhile, the blond had buried his face in her cleavage, as if he were trying to inhale them, while he alternated between cupping the weight of her enormous, natural breasts, and flicking the nipples. Simultaneously, she could feel what seemed to be a stiff-quilled hairbrush, firmly and slowly dragging across her arches and toes, driving her insane with laughter.
"Wow, You are ticklish, huh?" said the hulk in a surprisingly baritone, almost pleasant voice. "Good. I’m going to take my time with you and get downright creative with your feet. I know a lot of tricks, and I may even discover a few more tonight."
Overcome, the blond man fondled while sucking on and gently biting her hardening nipples. She moaned in between fits of laughter, her voluptuous mammaries rolling across his face as she struggled in vain.
Meanwhile, the other man started to tickle under her toes and around the outside of her soles with his fingers. He stroked the soles of her feet and sucked each toe. She tried to turn and look at him for the first time, trying to ignore the breast manipulation she was enduring from the now-silent blond. As her eyes further adjusted to the light, she noticed a table behind him. It was filled with a variety of tools, feathers, salves, what appeared to be spurs, small brushes, quills. Kim laughed and screamed through the gag, but no one was around to hear but them. She was their prisoner, and they were just getting started.
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Kim turned a corner, cautiously, creeping her way down a stone arch in a strange mansion, the sound of festivities distant in the background. The house was huge, and she slipped away, saying she was looking for the bathroom, but really she was planning to satisfy her cleptomaniac jones and look for something to steal. Her slim black dress was tailored to draw the eye to her breasts and hips and away from her overly large clutch, which she held under her voluptuous breasts. Her figure was something to brag about. 36DD over a narrow waist and rounded hips, she was nearly perfect in her symmetry, and it had served her well. Brunette, with shoulder-length curly hair and olive skin, she was not too bad from the shoulders up either.
As she crept through unfamiliar hallways and poking into what she hoped were bedrooms, she held her breath. She usually didn't wear heels, so walking was a little clumsy because she tried to walk silently. Not wearing stockings was probably a bad idea.
As she slipped into a dimly lit bedroom, she came across an ornate jewelry box, standing against the wood-lined walls, which she moved toward silently. A sudden light blinded her, startling her and nearly drawing a scream. In the same instant, her clutch was snatched out of her hand and she could hear it flung across the room.
She assumed, as she had prepared herself for, that someone suspected she was there to steal, and she had her excuses ready.
As her eyes adjusted to what she could now tell was a flashlight, in the shadows behind the jewelry box were two men, standing casually, unnervingly staring at her like a piece of meat.
One, taller, blond, dressed in jeans and a black sweater. Spoke first.
"I'll tell you what. If you can make it out the door before I catch you, you get away and this will just be a confusing memory."
The other one, shorter and stockier, with a shaved head and greying goatee, stared at her maliciously. He was dressed in a long-sleeve grey t-shirt and jeans as well.
She stared at both for a moment, not taking in what was going on. She considered screaming, but did not know if anyone could hear her, so far from the party and with the music turned up so loudly.
The bald one swiftly circled behind her, cutting off the entrance she had used. In front of her, behind the blond, was an open door she had not previously seen. She always carried a taser with her, in her clutch, which was now 15 feet away behind the bald hulk.
It came as a shock, but when she realized what he planned to do (not exactly what, but something), she panicked. She started to run. Her tight black dress and heels did nothing to help her panic, and she clopped about twenty feet when they were on her roughly.
"Well, you tried, he said smugly." "Not a good day to wear a dress and heels. I’ll just help you correct that problem."
The bald one grabbed her arms and held them behind her while, before she could make a noise, held her while the other tore her black dress straight down – and there beneath in torch light were enormous, tan, jiggly breasts crammed into a black lacy bra. They gentled swayed from side to side as Kim struggled, now screaming for help but knowing no one would hear. It only seemed to excite them. They then hungrily pulled her out of the dress, and as they got to her ankles, they slipped her high heels off, exposing her bare feet, also tan and freshly adorned with nail polish. Then they let her go.
"Last shot."
The bald one released her, and she desperately fled into the darkness of the unknown hallway. She stumbled down a flight of stairs, and shrieked as she bolted, unencumbered, having no idea where she was. Her heavy breasts wobbled and strained her bra as she tried self-consciously to cover them, still not quite believing what was happening. She could not imagine what lay in store for her.
The walkway narrowed again, and she moved into a heavy wooden door at the end and was frozen when she saw where she was. Trapped. No way out. Littered through the room was what appeared to be ancient furniture, for what purpose she could not imagine. She turned to see if there were another way out.
The men moved in behind her, slowly, impossibly close behind her.
"I figured you’d end up here," said the blonde. He pointed casually toward a section of wall indistinguishable from that around it. "Trap doors, secret halls. You know."
With that, they each grabbed an arm and carried the struggling nearly-naked woman to a set of what she could now tell were medieval stocks.
The bald man made his first sound, a slight giggle, as he released her arm grabbed her ankles and roughly turned her over to secure her ankles in the stocks with an audible click--with her wriggling feet upturned--and helped her kneel on a plush velvet stool. They quickly forced her arms upward to be shackled to fur-lined cuffs hanging from the ceiling.
"You can struggle as much as you want. These devices will keep you nice and secure."
As her eyes began to adjust to the dim light, she could now see what amounted to a torture dungeon. Who knew how often these men had used these facilities. A magician's table, an angled board with cuffs at the top, what appeared to be a rack. Strewn along the floor were all manners of chains, straps and pulleys. Her imagination could not conceive of what kind of people had this in their homes.
The blonde man pulled a pair of scissors from his back pocket. Kim gasped and began shaking her head.
He reached up and gently cut both bra straps. Her breasts burst forth like blooming flowers, slowly swinging back and forth like pendulums.
"And to make the package complete." He snipped the tiny panties Kim had squeezed herself into that morning, popping them off and showing her well-manicured bush and beautiful, round ass.
"Shy," he teased. "You’ll get over it. Or not. You can’t really do anything about it right now anyway, can you?"
Kim was flush with fear. "Why me?" She retraced her steps, trying to figure out how they could have figured out what she had been doing. Did they know I was there to steal? How? She had done this so many times before that she always conservatively covered her steps.
He smiled. "Why not?"
With that, he pulled a red ball gag from his pocket and applied it gently to her mouth, delicately tightening it at the back of her head. She could clearly breathe and make noises, but could not speak, ending any possibility of negotiation.
"No one downstairs is missing you, and we already had someone tell everyone you were seen leaving," he said, not taking his eyes off her perfect tan breasts. "Your car has already been moved somewhere secure, so it will not look suspicious."
He continued plainly.
"We plan to sexually torture you for about a day or so." Her eyes widened in horror as she pulled pitifully at the straps. "But we are not going to hurt you, nor will we leave a mark. You may like it, but you probably will not."
He looked at the other man, standing behind her, breathing heavily. "I start with her tits, you take her feet. Oh, and let's just call her Patient. No reason to make up a name for her."
He clearly relished cupping her breasts, hanging with the weight only natural ones could. He then began gently, then more vigorously, massaging them, paying special emphasis to the small, faint nipples. He drew small circles around them with the heels of his palms, sending shock waves through her body.
Meanwhile the other was now sitting near her feet. She was aware he was about to do something, and she tried to use one to cover the other, but they were too far apart.
He began to stroke one of her feet, firmly grabbing the toes of her right foot and tracing it with one finger. Se could not believe she was being tickled. Her mind blanked of all thought but how to resist the overwhelming sensation, but nothing worked. Her heart pounded and breath caught as she strained against it, heaving her chest into the blond's face. It was a nightmare for her. She could not stand it, and lovers who had tried to tickle her never got their calls returned if she suspected it was something they were into.
He tickled aggressively, switching to both hands on both feet, savoring the sensation of her soft, writhing flesh against his fingernails. She alternated contracting her soles and extending them, hoping something could alleviate the sensation. Nothing did.
Meanwhile, the blond had buried his face in her cleavage, as if he were trying to inhale them, while he alternated between cupping the weight of her enormous, natural breasts, and flicking the nipples. Simultaneously, she could feel what seemed to be a stiff-quilled hairbrush, firmly and slowly dragging across her arches and toes, driving her insane with laughter.
"Wow, You are ticklish, huh?" said the hulk in a surprisingly baritone, almost pleasant voice. "Good. I’m going to take my time with you and get downright creative with your feet. I know a lot of tricks, and I may even discover a few more tonight."
Overcome, the blond man fondled while sucking on and gently biting her hardening nipples. She moaned in between fits of laughter, her voluptuous mammaries rolling across his face as she struggled in vain.
Meanwhile, the other man started to tickle under her toes and around the outside of her soles with his fingers. He stroked the soles of her feet and sucked each toe. She tried to turn and look at him for the first time, trying to ignore the breast manipulation she was enduring from the now-silent blond. As her eyes further adjusted to the light, she noticed a table behind him. It was filled with a variety of tools, feathers, salves, what appeared to be spurs, small brushes, quills. Kim laughed and screamed through the gag, but no one was around to hear but them. She was their prisoner, and they were just getting started.
