A College Education 2

by Ty M Goode

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© Copyright 2009 - Ty M Goode - Used by permission

Storycodes: MM/f; bond; blackmail; tickle; tormet; hum; cuffs; nc; X

(story continues from )


Part 3

“To hell with being bored,” thought Mrs. Suitor, trying to endure the compression of the waist cincher, “I just want to be able to breath.”

“Before we proceed,” Stan said, “I think I’d better check the dipstick.”

With that, he simply leaned over and stuck his hand through the gap between the chair’s seat and back.  With Rachel’s thighs splayed wide, it proved ridiculously easy for his fingers to hit the bull’s eye.  The brown haired housewife tried to leap from the chair, as Stan’s index and middle finger slipped easily into the folds of her sex.  She screeched at the violation and tried to head butt his arm away.  Moments later, Stan withdrew his fingers.  They shimmered up past the second knuckle, with the bound woman’s juices.

Rachel was stunned, both from the violation, as well as the visual evidence of her continued arousal.  She watched mesmerized, as Stan brought his fingers to his nose and sniffed.

“Mmm,” he drawled, “you’ve got one sweet pussy there, Rach.”

Grabbing a handful of her hair, he wiped his slick fingers just below her nose, on the tape cocooning her face.  Then he licked them, as if finishing a chicken dinner.  Mrs. Suitor was aghast.  Such an offensive act seemed totally out of character for the person she’d regarded as, “a nice boy”, just the night before.  If he’d become so brazen now, due to her helpless state, what was to stop him, or both of them, from raping her.  If they became so inclined, Rachel knew she’d have no hope of stopping them.  A delicious, yet thoroughly unwelcome shudder went through her.

“I don’t think the next step is going to be any problem.”  Stan said.  “First, let me take care of one minor detail.”

He  went and stood by the laptop, his body blocking his actions.  Mrs. Suitor could hear his fingers tapping rapidly on the keyboard.  When he backed away, Rachel could see no obvious change.  The collection of   previously taken images, still filled the screen.  She did not notice the two, cigarette pack-sized devices sitting nearby, now sported a tiny, glowing LED.

“Randy, would you do the honors?”  The man asked.

“Gladly.”  Came the reply.

Before she could counter his actions (were she able), Randy slipped his arm between Rachel’s back and cuffed arms.  Sliding his bicep up toward her armpits, the student hoisted the brunette’s body off the chair.  His other arm wrapped around her now tiny waist, thanks to the waist cincher.  Rachel watched in horror as Stan picked up the purple dildo.

“nnnngghhhh!!!  mmmrrnnffff!!!!”  Mrs. Suitor screamed.

Stan kept approaching.  Rachel writhed with every ounce of energy she had. Adrenaline shot through her system, her ’fight or flight’ instincts kicking into high gear.  But with the ankle cuff’s hobble stretched across the chair’s front legs behind her, as well as her big toes still cinched to the same legs, she had insufficient leverage to put up much of a fight.  That, and Randy was deceptively strong for his appearance.

Stan knelt down and positioned the probe under Mrs. Suitor’s straining thighs.  Because the arms of the chair arrested Rachel’s legs from rising more than eight inches off the seat, he had to angle the dildo toward his target.

Rachel felt the latex tip nuzzle against her pussy and doubled her efforts.  Randy was able to compensate with demoralizing ease.  Using his free hand, Stan spread Mrs. Suitor’s lips, then he began to work the shaft upright.  Rachel howled as the mammoth head bulldozed her petals apart.  She felt her silken flesh stretch around the tip, its bulk testing her portal’s elasticity. As it inched in further, she could feel her sex involuntarily clamp down upon it.  When the shaft became vertical, its base resting on the seat of the chair, all three participants knew they’d reached the point of no return.

“Okay, Randy,” Stan announced, “I think you can let Mrs. Suitor resume her seat.”

Randy complied, slowly lowering his burden.  Rachel would alternately groan, pant and grunt with each additional millimeter.  Her velvet sheath slowly consumed the intruder, like a python ingesting a rubber log.  The dildo filled her like nothing she’d ever experienced.  And it seemed to go on forever.  By the time the puffed lips of her labia touched the base, Rachel half wondered if she might split in two.

Adding further insult, as she settled in the chair, her clitoris became wedged between the two prickly plastic testicles on the dildo’s base, like a grape in a wine press.  Never, had she ever felt so stuffed.  She wanted to rise off it, but her own body weight kept her firmly impaled.  The sudden image of her humping a latex fire hydrant popped into mind.  Now, the entire focus of her being, seemed to center on the incredible fullness of her sex.

Mrs. Suitor ceased her futile screams for release.  Her eyes half closed, her brain battling a paradox of thought.  She had to, no, MUST get off this vile intruder.  Even dormant, its knobby exterior created countless pressure points against Rachel’s slick walls.

The housewife took little comfort in the fact that, although enormous, the discomfort of the penetration was nothing compared to the birth of their child.  Oh hell yes, it hurt, but she could already feel her erogenous cavity conforming to its guest.  As the twinges began to ease, a disturbingly familiar sensation percolated within her.  Mrs. Suitor moaned, although this time, it wasn’t entirely due to duress.

“Oh God,” she thought, “please, dear lord, not again!”

But the genie had already been let out of the bottle.  To Mrs. Suitor, it was like having an out of body experience.  The higher functions of her brain were aghast, when she felt her body begin to rock against the immense phallus.  She tried conjuring up all sorts of sobering images in an effort to toss a wet blanket on her arousal.  But the match had been struck, refusing to be extinguished.

Randy nudged his partner and nodded his head toward Rachel’s slowly undulating hips.  They shared a smirk between them as they busied themselves for their departure, as well as, making Mrs. Suitor’s escape a bit more challenging. 

Randy grabbed the box of rubber bands off the desk.  He stretched the elastic over his widely splayed fingers.  Turning toward their trussed hostess, he saw that her eyes were almost closed, beads of sweat had formed on her forehead and her breaths were coming in shallow little pants.  Keeping his fingers spread, he grasped Rachel’s right breast.  That broke the brunette out of her reverie.  He rolled the band off his fingers and down to the base of her tit.  Mrs. Suitor looked down, an uncomprehending yet worried look on her face.  Five more of the stretchy, tan loops followed.  With each, Rachel’s bosom swelled, the skin growing taut.  Six rubber bands then garroted her left breast, adding a sense of symmetry.

Mrs. Suitor was immediately, apprehensively, aware of how sensitive her breasts had become.  Whilst there wasn’t a breath of air moving in the room, she could swear that she felt a draft dance across her ballooning tits.  It was almost enough to take her mind off the fullness of her sex.  Almost.  Rachel glanced nervously at Randy, awaiting the other shoe that was most assuredly yet to drop.  She’d have to wait a little longer.

“Stan,” Randy thought out loud, “I have a feeling that Rachel here, might have a little trouble focusing on the task we have planned for her.  How ‘bout check out Mr. S’s closet for some belts?”

“No prob.”  His partner answered.

He was back in less than sixty seconds, two long, leather straps dangling from his hand.  Placing a hand against Rachel’s shoulders, her pushed her forward until her corseted mid-section was pressing against the chair back.  Holding her thus, he passed the belts to Randy.  The young man slipped one around Mrs. Suitor’s back, under her arms.  He brought the ends toward him and buckled them together over the padded back of the chair.  The second belt crisscrossed the first over Rachel’s spine and was also buckled across the chair back.

The brunette was now trapped, leaning forward into the chair’s padding.  Her breasts hung over the top edge, looking and feeling, extraordinarily exposed.  There of course, was no way to ignore how this new posture rocked her forward, mashing her clitoris deeper between the spiky rubber testicles.  The latex behemoth within her shifted as well, though not as willingly as her own flesh.  It was a question of give and take.  The dildo ‘gave’ very little, leaving the housewife’s sex had to ‘take’ the rest.

Rachel grunted once more.  Having not yet grown accustomed to knobby shaft inside her, her sexual sheath struggled to accommodate this new position.  She watched, not even half interested, as the lads moved away from her.  Stan diddled with the computer, while Randy picked up the fan. 

Mrs. Suitor was becoming less and less aware of the activity around her, her attention drawing inward.  As terrifying as all this was, her body was trying to cope in a most unorthodox fashion.  The fear she was experiencing, was somehow transforming into an almost aphrodisiastic sensation.  Where as she should be struggling and screaming like mad (though she’d tried that already), her body had stilled. 

Then it began a slow, barely perceptible gyrating motion.  It hurt and Rachel willed herself to stop.  But each little twinge set off a *POP* inside the housewife’s brain.  With an inescapable sense of dread, she knew it was just a matter of time before those tiny firecrackers turned into atom bombs.  Mrs. Suitor hadn’t realized that her eyes had closed, until Randy spoke.

“Rachel,” he sang, “Yoo-hoo, Mis-us Soo-ter?  I need your attention for a minute, then you can go back to humping yourself.”

The brunette could feel the heat of her blush flash across her body.

“Okay, now that I’ve got your attention.”  He said.  “Stan and I are about to hit the road.  As promised, we’re going to leave you the keys.”

“But,” Stan interjected, “we thought it necessary to keep you distracted for a while, so you don’t manage to call the cops before we reach the end of the driveway.  So, we devised this challenge.  Don’t worry, we’re going to have a dry run before we go.  Please watch closely.”

Rachel did her best to concentrate on their words, the tingle in her loins making that increasingly difficult.  Stan was holding a “power strip”, used to protect electronics from power surges.  Three cords had been plugged into it.  One, was from the laptop, allowing it to run from house current, rather than battery.  Rachel followed the path of the second, down to the floor, then back up between the space in the chair back and right between her legs.

“Dear God!”  She thought.  “They’ve plugged in the dildo!”

Even after a year’s time, Rachel could still remember how the monstrosity had thrummed in her hands, when they’d plugged it in during her birthday party.  The girls had passed the purple latex jackhammer around, each maintaining a look of disgust as they held it, each secretly wondering what it would feel like inside them.  There had even been a dare or two, as Rachel remembered it, but none of them had been near brave (or crazy) enough to accept.

The final cord trailed off behind her.  Mrs. Suitor was unable to see where it terminated.  And since she couldn’t see it, she didn’t give it much thought.  She should have.  Her eyes once again returned to the stark white cord centered among the three.  It looked so benign.  Yet at the same time, Rachel knew it to be a viper, waiting to unleash its bite.  She gazed back up at her extortionists.  ‘Worried’, seemed to be the look of the day.

“I see you’ve kinda got a handle on things, Rach.”  Stan said.  “Allow me to point out some of the finer details.  You see this web cam here?”

Mrs. Suitor hadn’t, and she felt her heart sink.

“Well, it’s been running ever since I got back.”  Stan beamed.  “Lucky for us that Brad had two of them.  That way I could sustain a wide shot, while the other was recording your, uh, insertion.”

To prove his point, Stan’s fingers danced over the keys and a pair of images came up on the screen.  The first, was Mrs. Suitor sitting backwards in the chair, helplessly bound and gagged.  The second, was a close-up through the space between the seat and chair back.  The puffed, scarlet lips of Rachel’s labia could be seen stretched around the thick, purple shaft of the dildo.  Her neatly trimmed swath of pubic hair rose above the latex testicles like a fuzzy caterpillar.  Rachel’s heart continued to drop, until she thought she heard it hit the floor.

“Why would they record all this?”  She wondered, although deep down she had a pretty good idea.

“So,” Randy picked up the narration, “Here it is in a nutshell.  While we’re making our escape, we’ve got something to keep you distracted while you’re trying to get free.  Keep your focus and you should be able to pop your cuffs.” 

“You should then be able to reach your ankles and toes.  Sorry about the elbow cuffs, you’ll just have to come up with a good excuse for them when you tell the cops.  Or a locksmith, whomever you call first.  Any way, once your out of the chair, it shouldn’t be too difficult to hide your little toys and call the authorities.” 

“I’d love to be there to see the look on the first cop’s face when you open the door in your birthday suit.”  Stan added, having been at the laptop during Randy’s exposition.  Then he grew serious.  “Now for the down side.”

“I’ve just gone back and pixilated our images off the recording.”  He said.  “Don’t worry, you still come through clear and in living color.  Now, I’ve set the laptop’s system on ‘Emergency Stand-By’.” 

“What that means is, that any sudden loss of power and it sends all of its files out over the internet.  I’ve already established your chat room, as well as several IP addresses for some bondage sites I surfed for, as recipients. 

“In plain English, if the PC loses house current, it’ll switch to battery and instantly transmit the data.  It’ll also continue to stream video until the battery dies.  I figure about four hours.  By that time, you should have spawned quite a following of perverts and degenerates who’ve stumbled across your live feed.” 

“Supplied with your name, address, phone number and banking information, I imagine you’ll be quite the celebrity.  Who knows?  This might open up an entirely new career direction for you.”

“And,” Randy added, “if one of these pervs lives nearby, that new career might be as Sex Slave.”

Mrs. Suitor exploded in her chair.  She thrashed and writhed wildly.  To the boys, except for her tossing head, her struggles looked as though she were merely trying to get seated more comfortably.  Her screams puffed out of her nose in sharp, nasal exhales that held all the duress of a yawn.  It didn’t take long for the housewife to wind herself.  She looked at the two students, eyes pleading.

“Calm down, Rachel.”  Randy soothed.  “We’re placing YOU in control of what happens.  First, a demonstration.”

Stan knelt and plugged in the power strip.  Immediately, some very nasty things happened.  The dildo sprang to life with a shudder than went beyond mere vibration.  It shook so hard it made Rachel’s vision dance.  Or maybe that was just its effect.  Now energized, the prod seemed to come alive, writhing and twisting inside her.  And that wasn’t the worse thing.

Simultaneously, the fan on the floor behind her came on.  There was a momentary breath of air across the sole of her right foot, before it reached full power.  When it did, the mylar streamers on its cage began flicking and snapping the exposed area.

The brunette shrieked and tried futilely once more to pull her foot away.  And as before, it remained locked in its vulnerable position, due to her cinched toe.  Suddenly, the assault stopped.  Rachel didn’t even have time to draw in a relieved breath, when it resumed once more.  The snapping/tickling/stinging assault  continued, then yet again, ceased.  Then it was her left foot’s turn.  It finally dawned on the bound mother of one.  The fan had been set on oscillating mode, sweeping back and forth in an arc.  And Rachel knew that both her feet lie within that arc.  It was a torture that went beyond insidious.

Mrs. Suitor lunged in her chair.  However, the belts strapping her in place held firm.  Stan let everything continue for another minute, then pulled the plug.  Rachel sat there, drawing in great, ragged breaths.  Suddenly, she grew rigid, looking in horror at the young man standing by the outlet.

“Relax, Mrs. S.”  he soothed, “like we said, this was just a dry run.  Nothing’s been transmitted.  This time. We’ve got one more detail before we go ’Live’.”

Randy held his closed fist in front of Rachel’s face.  When he opened his hand, the afternoon sun streaming in through the window, caught a flash of silver.  Mrs. Suitor immediately recognized the slender chain.  A chill coursed through her.  Dangling from each end of the chain, was a steel alligator clip.  How they’d found them didn’t matter, only that they had.

Rachel had tried them only once.  The thought had been so intriguing when she saw them, that she had to buy them.  But when she snapped the jaws in place, their bite had been too extraordinary to bear.  Even though she’d removed them almost immediately, she had been able to feel their teeth for almost an hour afterward.  (She also remembered that the feeling had left her incredibly aroused and that she’d ended up playing with her wounded nipples and fingering herself to orgasm).

Once again, the brunette pleaded with her eyes and moaned beseechingly through the gag.  Her appeals fell on deaf ears.  Strapped against the chair back, Mrs. Suitor could do nothing but watch as Randy squeezed open the jaws and swung them toward her nipples.  Unable to stand it any longer, Rachel screwed her eyes shut.  But as steel clamped down on incredibly sensitive flesh, her eyes popped open like headlights.

One, then the other, pinched down in quick succession.  Rachel screeched in a pitch too high for the human ear.  Her body bucked and shuddered, throwing the silver chain into a frenzied dance.  Nothing she tried, was going to dislodge the toothy pincers from her little pink buds.  Yet still she tried.  More than a minute passed, before Rachel’s body stilled somewhat, either through exhaustion, or with the realization of utter hopelessness.  Stan and Randy just stood there, taking in the scene.  But it was getting late.

“Boy, Rach,” Randy said, “I guess that smarts, huh?”

“Smarts!?”  Mrs. Suitor hummed, eyes watering.  “Let me snap them on you and see how you like it, you bastard!”

“Randy?”  Stan said, pointing at his watch.

“Yeah.”  Randy agreed.

Then turning to their captive he said.  “Okay Mrs. S.,  you’ve kinda got the idea.  Now here comes the concentration part.  Stan?”

Obligingly, Stan took a ball of twine that had been one of their acquisitions from the laundry room.  He spooled off about six feet, tying one end to the plug of the power strip.  Meanwhile, Randy placed the control unit for the dildo in Rachel’s right hand.  He was careful to position the slide that regulated the power, tight against her palm.  He bent the brunette’s unresisting fingers into a fist around the device.  Then he wrapped duct tape around her hand, until it was nothing but a silver knob.  He didn’t bother telling her that he’d set the controller to “MAX”.  She’d find out soon enough.  He then stood and removed the belts fusing Rachel’s torso to the chair back.  He placed a precautionary hand against her shoulders, to keep her from moving during the next stage.

This was Stan’s cue to continue his task.  He plugged the power strip into the outlet until he was rewarded with a red light from the strip, telling him that the current was flowing.  From behind him, Rachel’s muzzled yelp confirmed that all the ‘appliances’ were up and running.  He took special care not to insert the prongs of the plug completely into the outlet.  He then ran the other end of the string towards Mrs. Suitor’s nipple chain.  As he did, he kept a running dialogue.

“So Rach,” he instructed as he draped the string over the chain and began pulling out the slack, “While you’re trying to unlock the cuffs, it’s very important that you remain still.  Too much tugging on this string will yank the cord out of the socket.  And we all know what happens next.”

Keeping one hand between Mrs. Suitor’s shoulders, Randy placed the keys to the handcuffs and ankle shackles in the palm of her left hand.  Rachel grasped them tightly, as if her very life depended upon them.  In a sense, they did.

“Guess I don’t have to tell you which key opens which, huh Rachel.  I‘m sure you‘ve had lots of practice.  Gee, I never thought to ask if you were a righty or a lefty.  Oh well, you‘ll just have to do the best you can.”

Rachel’s face grimaced under the smothering gag.  She wasn’t sure how much of the roar pounding her head was mental, or due to the vibrations clattering up from her sex.  She lurched, as the fan swung across her left foot.  If it hadn’t been for Randy’s steadying hand, she would have lurched backward.

“Whoa!”  Stan said.  “Not a good idea Mrs. S.  Remember, pull on that string too much and you cut the power.  Then all your little secrets go streaming out on the internet.  You need to sit as still as you can and let those magic fingers of yours work on the cuffs.”

“I look at it this way, Rach.”  Randy said.  “You’ve actually got three chances to keep the lid on things.  One, obviously, is to unlock the cuffs.  Then you can remove the clips.  Or untie the string, if you’re getting too much of a thrill from the clips.  Then, you can slouch down and free your ankles and toes.” 

“Two, you hold out until Brad gets home.  That’ll be only in a few more hours.  You can make up some cock ‘n bull story of how we brought all this stuff with us to tie you up.”

“And three, you can try pulling off the nipple clamps without dislodging the plug.  Personally, I wouldn’t suggest this tact, but thankfully, I’m not in your position.”

“Well,” Stan announced, “I guess that’s it then.  On behalf of Randy and myself, we’d like to thank you for your hospitality.  It’s been a blast.  Oh, I almost forgot.  One more thing I got from Brad’s room.”

Stan showed Mrs. Suitor a pair of her son’s tinted swim goggles.  Rachel noted that the student had stuffed cotton balls inside of each lens.

“These’ll save you the bother of looking around too much.”  Stan said.

“Without altering your appearance for the camera.”  Randy added.  “People will know it’s still the same, hot, MILF that walked into the bedroom shedding her top.”

Stan slipped the goggles in place and Rachel’s world went black.  She shook her head feebly, but the goggles stuck to her eyes as if glued.  It was an utterly disorienting sensation.  She turned in their general direction and tried one last muffled plea. 

“hhhnnmmphh!”  Mrs. Suitor tried to get the boys to abort their plans.

“Oh, don’t worry, Mrs. S.” Randy said, intentionally misinterpreting her feeble attempts at communication, “we’ll be sure to lock up when we go.”

“Yeah,” said Stan, “lord knows there’s a lot of sickos out there.  It would be irresponsible of us not to leave you safely locked in the secure privacy of your own home.”

Before Rachel could try again, the fan started a new sweep, battering her right foot with the whip-cracks of plastic streamers.  All sound choked off in her throat.  She didn’t hear their soft footfalls across the bedroom’s deep carpeting.  She DID hear the front door slam shut, as well as the clunker of a car they’d arrived in, fire up.

As the sounds of the misfiring engine faded down the driveway, Rachel Suitor never felt so alone.  The dildo was pounding her so hard it was giving her a headache.  The fire in her nipples had spread throughout her chest, making it that much more difficult to breathe. 

The flickering flailing of her feet nearly drove her insane with the need to laugh.  The only blessing, was that there were brief intermissions, as the fan’s arc swung out past her feet.  Rachel was quickly able to anticipate the pauses in the fan’s mechanical rhythm.  Those, she judged, would be the times to concentrate on releasing herself.  The other periods, she’d just have to brace herself and focus on remaining motionless.

VERY carefully, she fingered the keys in her left hand.  She did indeed, know them from touch, after many self bondage sessions.  The hobble cuffs had a clover design at its head, the handcuffs, a simple oval.  Like a blind heart surgeon, she shifted the hobble key deeper into her palm. 

She had to pause there, as the streamers assailed her bare left foot.  Shudders wracked her body, causing it to squirm on the dildo.  That shift, caused her clitoris to send out lightning bolts, which she could actually see with her blind eyes.  She held her breath, knowing she was precipitously close to cumming.  Should that happen, there’d be no guarantee that she could control her body enough not to pull on the power cord string. 

It was then, that the phone rang.  It continued to ring until the machine answered it.

“Hi, Mom.”  Came her son Brad’s voice over the speaker.  “I’m surprised you’re not there.  Guess you’re busy keeping Randy and Stan entertained.”

“He has no idea.”  Rachel thought, dejectedly.

“Anyway,”  Brad continued, “I met Mr. Umbajay and he’s really cool.  I think I impressed him, too.  He’s invited me out to dinner tonight.  His daughter Chandra is going to join us.”

There was a pause, then Brad added in a conspiratorial voice, “And Mom, she’s really hot!”

“So, anyway, I’m spending the night in town.  Mr. Umbajay even sprung for the hotel room.  Don’t worry, it’ll be just me sleeping there tonight.”

Then, apparently embarrassed, he added quickly, “So, I’ll see you tomorrow.  Tell the guys we’ll hook up then.  Love ya.  Bye.”

Rachel groaned in frustration.  So much for escape option number two.  She was on her own.  She set about positioning the handcuff key for her first try.  As the teeth of the key neared the area of the keyhole, the fan struck once more.  Mrs. Suitor lurched involuntarily.  Her slight shift in weight was enough to drive her clitoris HARD into one of the spiked testicles.  She jumped again, jerking on the nipple chain.  Things began to snowball faster from there.

She almost overcompensated as she tried frantically to resume her statue-like pose.  Sweat flowed from her pores, the little rivulets adding their ticklish torment to the mix.  Mrs. Suitor’s nostrils flared, as she fought the losing battle against her stimulation.  She braced as best she could, as the tidal wave of orgasm swept over her.

Her head roared and she knew not where she was.  She bellowed, pleaded and wailed into the gag.  She had no control over her body as it shuddered and twisted of its own accord.  She knew, without a doubt, that her life would never be the same.

* * * *

Five Hours Later.

The policewoman looked on with genuine sympathy at the beleaguered woman before her.  The brunette sat there on the sofa, tightly clutching her robe around her and staring off to space.  The angry red lines caused by the brutally tight stocking gag, blazed across her cheeks.  It would be several days before they began to fade.  Her face was splotched with remnants of adhesive from the duct tape.  The officer could also see the ligature marks caused by the steel manacles her assailants had used, peeking out from the cuffs of the robe.

“This woman’s been through hell.”  She thought.

The officer had been gingerly probing for information about the woman’s attackers.  She’d learned that only first names had been used and that they were false.  A call to the university awoke a dean, who obligingly faxed a copy of the school’s year book.  “Randy” and “Stan’s” picture weren’t among the alumni.  Another dead end.

With nothing much else to say, the officer closed her notebook and rose to leave.  Mrs. Suitor had assured her, that she’d notified her husband and that he would be arriving in the morning.  She would be fine until then.  Even so, the policewoman arranged for a squad car to sit outside the rest of the night.

After the officer left, Rachel slowly, achingly, walked back upstairs.  She entered the bedroom, which had been thoroughly documented by the police photographer.  The had been precious few traces of evidence.  Mrs. Suitor stood in the doorway, recalling in detail what had taken place here.

Eight.  Or, at least she believed it was eight.  She’d endured eight titanic orgasms in the course of freeing herself.  But she had done it, although she still wasn’t entirely sure how. 

She remembered the cuffs almost magically releasing their grip on her right wrist.  She recalled how she had to strain against the cuffs still trapping her elbows, as she reached around for the nipple clips.  At first, it had seemed that they were just out of reach.  Hell, they WERE just out of reach.  But not the chain.  Thinking that she’d rather walk a mile on broken glass, than do what had to be done, she’d grabbed the chain and pulled.

Why she didn’t black out from the pain, she had no idea.  And still, she had to do it again.  The jolt from the final clip’s snapping off, unbelievably sent her over the edge again.  Nine.

From there, it was a simple, awkward, vile matter of extracting herself from the chair and the still buzzing phallus.  She toppled, more than climbed off the chattering, purple behemoth, but at least she was free.  Sort of.  No matter how she twisted and turned, she could neither reach the elbow cuffs, nor the gag.

No matter.  Knocking the receiver off the phone and dialing 9-1-1, she was able to harrumph enough to get the message across to the dispatcher.  State and local authorities were immediately contacted.  Rachel had used the time to gather up some of the incriminating evidence, having to stoop awkwardly to do so.  The last thing she did before going downstairs to wait, was to carefully power down the laptop.

The face of the first officer on the scene was one she’d never forget.  No doubt, he’d never forget the sight of the beautiful woman who’d opened the door, naked save for a mauve colored waist cincher and a face full of duct tape.  Removal of those last restraints had been horrible, yet glorious.

So, Rachel stood there.  Then shuddered.  She then walked to the laptop she’d stowed in the desk.  Powering up, she pulled up a particular file.  Opening it, she watched herself on the screen, struggling in abject terror, writhing in bridled ecstasy.  Mrs. Suitor felt her abused sex moisten.  This was definitely something to bring up at her next chat session.  It’s amazing what a college education can get you these days.  


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