Part 2
Yes, Rachel felt sullied alright, practically nude and shackled like she was. Knowledge that a simple keystroke could ruin her life, as well as that of her husband’s, left her awash in dread. Yet, as she sat there helplessly, straining against the unbreakable shackles and staring at the images on the laptop, she felt something else. A perverse thrill sent a shudder up her spine so forceful, she feared that the students might notice.
She was bound helpless before not one, but two strange men. It was a fantasy she’d often shared whilst alone in her self bondage, or in the chat rooms. The reality though, was that it was a hundred times more terrifying, now that it was actually taking place. Yet, why were the butterflies in her stomach whirling like mad. Rachel tested the cuffs once more. Not to see if she could shed them, rather to check if she was truly powerless. The did not budge nor shift. To her dismay, Mrs. Suitor felt the swatch of cloth between her legs dampen.
“And now for some questions.” Randy said, rejoining Stan.
Rachel jumped, for she hadn’t heard him approach. A debate raged in her mind. “Should I cooperate? Should I call their bluff?” She simply did not know how she would respond when asked for the combination.
“Are you expecting any company today?”
“I don’t know the combi…Huh? What?” The question caught her completely off guard.
Then Mrs. Suitor’s hopes soared. Of course! Why hadn’t she thought of it earlier.
“Why yes, YES!” Rachel said, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. “I’m expecting several women over for lunch. They should be arriving any minute!”
Mrs. Suitor held her breath. It was just the thing she hoped would panic her assailants. Now they’d have to release her. Rachel felt optimistic for the first time in a while.
“Wrong answer, Rachel.” Stan said angrily. “And phrased in an incorrect manner.”
He reached over and gave Mrs. Suitor’s left nipple a wicked squeeze.
“YEOW!” The bound woman screamed.
“Have you forgotten already, how you’re to respond when spoken to?” Randy asked.
No, she did remember the instructions. It’s just that the question seemed to have been a godsend. She was about to say just that, but caught herself in time.
“No…Sir,” Rachel choked out, “I haven’t forgotten, Sir. Yes Sir, I am expecting company, Sir. They should be here any minute, SIR!” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice with the last statement.
Randy and Stan exchanged glances once more. Then it was Stan’s turn to leave the room. He entered the adjacent master bath and returned in less than a minute. Meanwhile, Randy shook his head, the look of disappointment clear on his face.
“Rachel, Rachel,” he said, “why won’t you be reasonable? These aren’t difficult questions, you know. Don’t you remember telling us last night, that you had nothing planned for today, but cooking for us ‘boys’?”
Mrs. Suitor’s heart sank, as she recalled too late, the previous night’s conversation. She’d really stepped in it this time. Before she could even attempt any spin control, Stan walked up and knelt behind her. As he worked, Randy continued speaking.
“You know Rach, we’re trying to be the good guys here. Stan and I aren’t sadists. We could have just raped you or beat you until you told us want we want to know. But no, we’re trying to be reasonable. All YOU have to do, is answer our questions honestly and in the proper manner. Remember, with each truthful answer, you get back an article of clothing.”
“Of course, there is a limit to our patience.” Randy added, his eyes dropping from her face, down to her exposed breasts. The implication was clear.
Mrs. Suitor could feel the blush once more, shocked that she had almost forgotten how exposed she was. She had to admit, things could have gone much worse for her, once the first set of manacles trapped her limbs. Now, with the veiled threat of sexual assault, Rachel decided that honesty, was in fact, the best policy.
“I’m sorry, Sir.” She said, casting her eyes to the floor. “I promise to… HEY! What are you doing?”
What Stan was doing, was removing Rachel’s running shoes and socks. He then lassoed a big toe with the dental floss he’d gotten from the bathroom. Once snared, he began wrapping more strands around the digit and the chair leg. He ended the binding with a cinch, effectively locking Rachel’s foot near motionless. He repeated the process with the other foot.
“Here’s the deal, Rachel,” Randy continued, “as much as we like hanging around here, we’ve got places to go. So far, you’ve been very uncooperative and the last thing we want to do, is be running up and down the stairs trying out the bogus combinations you’ve given us.”
So,” Stan chimed in, “before we ask the sixty four dollar question, we’ve got one more.”
“Are you ticklish?” Randy asked.
Again, the line of questioning briefly dumbfounded Mrs. Suitor. But then the butterflies returned with a vengeance. Along with a healthy dose of dread. She was indeed, VERY ticklish. She’d said so in the chat room. Cornered, she knew that she could only answer one way.
“Yes, Sir,” she gulped, “I am ticklish. Sir.”
“There!” Stan said triumphantly. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Mrs. Suitor wasn’t so sure. She looked between the two men, trying to judge their intent. But, deep down in her heart, she already knew what they had planned. She decided that she’d better intercede. After all, it was only money, right?
“Look,” Mrs. Suitor blurted, “you don’t have to do this. The combination is our anniversary. Just take the money, delete the files and let me go. I won’t do anything to stop you.”
“Sirs.” She added hastily.
“Well,” Stan said, as if mulling it over, “we’d like to believe you. But you haven’t been exactly on the up ’n up. Best to make sure, don’t you agree, Randy?”
“Absolutely.” His partner concurred.
Mrs. Suitor continued to plead her case, but the duo would hear nothing of it. Stan grabbed a peacock feather from a cluster arranged in a vase nearby. Randy grasped the toothbrush his partner offered him. Each took position next to a very still and exposed foot. There was a pregnant pause to let the suspense build, then they each attacked a sole.
Mrs. Suitor lurched in the chair, the air seemingly forced from her lungs. She drew a startled gasp, which was promptly exhaled in a shriek of laughter. There were no preliminary fits of giggles, nor throaty chuckles of delight. Rachel’s sensitivity sent her from zero to sixty in a blink of an eye. Her torso writhed in the chair, her fused arms swung ungainly, trying to ward off her tormentors. But no matter what she did, the assault never faltered. She couldn’t even find her voice to plead for them to stop. She began to grow lightheaded. She feared she might wet herself.
And then something else happened. Something was triggered by this ultimate feeling of helplessness. Her nipples grew harder and she began to grind her splayed sex into the seat cushion. Lightening danced up her spine, whilst her loins broiled like a cauldron. Before she could ascertain what was happening, she exploded. Rachel threw her head back and howled a soundless scream of unadulterated ecstasy. Her body rocked and shuddered of its own accord, utterly detached from her consciousness. It was an orgasm of intensity and duration that she’d never come close to experiencing before.
Stan and Randy paused, both fearful that they’d triggered some kind of seizure. Over a minute passed, a period of which Rachel would have no recollection, before she fluttered back to earth. Yet even then, she wasn’t completely free of the euphoria. She brushed her breasts and nipples hard against the chair back, all the while rocking her pelvis to prolong the sensation. Stan and Randy were temporarily forgotten. Finally, when she could coax no more from her body, Rachel slumped. She couldn’t recall ever feeling so exhausted.
“God DAMN, Rachel.” Stan said in awe. “You sure are one randy bitch. No offense, Randy.”
“None taken.” Said an equally dumfounded Randy. Then he snapped out of his shock, cleared his throat and attempted to regain control of the situation.
“So Mrs. Suitor, shall we continue?”
At the moment, all Rachel could do was shake her head. Her head roared, and her body was nothing but a collection of frazzled nerve endings. Sucking in a raspy breath, she tried to speak, but nothing came out but a groan and a small trickle of drool. Frantically, she tried again.
“N-no, p-please.” She gasped. “Please Sir, please…please, no more. I swear to God, that it’s our anniversary!”
“All right then,” Randy said, “we’ll give you the benefit of a doubt.”
As the fog began to clear from her head, Rachel’s hopes were buoyed that this nightmare might soon be over. They’d be a little poorer, but she would have her life back. Her optimism increased further, when Stan made the following comment.
“And as a sign of good faith, for telling the truth, you get an article of clothing back.”
“Five, articles to be precise.” Randy clarified.
Far from hitting on all cylinders, Mrs. Suitor’s brow wrinkled in concentration. “Five?” she thought. She tried doing the math in her head. One t-shirt, one bra, one pair of shorts and a pair of socks and shoes. Were they going to dress her in everything but a pair of sneakers? The mystery only deepened when Randy showed her the irregularly shaped, tan ball in his hand. Rachel noted the two trailing ends dangling from the mass, then the realization hit.
“It’s one of my stockings.” She thought, perplexed. She still couldn’t discern the multi-colored, grapefruit-sized lump, within the tan nylon.
Her answer came, in Stan grabbing a hold of her jaw and forehead. With absolutely no warning, Randy shoved the mass between Rachel’s gaping teeth.
“HEy-armmmnpfffff!!!” Her protest cut off.
Instinctively, her hands flew up to repel the semi-pliant wadding. The best they could manage, was to flutter like a pair of bird’s wings, then bunch into fists. Stan’s grip stymied her attempts to turn away. She had little choice other than to sit there, while Randy used three fingers to stuff the wadding deeper. By the time the bulk of it was behind her teeth, Rachel had to curl her tongue back, in order to keep it from tickling her uvula.
When her head was released, she tried desperately to spit the packing back out. But once it had penetrated beyond her front teeth, it made every effort to expand back to its original size. Stan grabbed the ends of the stocking and brought them behind Rachel’s head. There, he flipped the ends in a half hitch and pulled. Hard.
Mrs. Suitor squealed as the thin band of nylon cut into her cheeks and the corners of her mouth. Hardly finished, Stan drew the leggings to the front, where another half hitch was executed. Another vicious pull and the thin, tight band drove the packing almost completely behind Rachel’s straight, white teeth. A final pass to the back of her head, where the stocking was knotted off securely.
Rachel couldn’t believe the cumulative effect of the gag. Instantly, her mouth went dry, the stuffing soaking up her saliva as effectively as any sponge. Her robust cries of discomfort, only hummed softly in the large confines of the bedroom. She could feel her mouth pulled back in a grimace, her lips drawn tautly away from her teeth. If there was any silver lining at all, it was that the nylon trapped the packing, not allowing it to spill down her throat.
“There you go, Rach,” Randy said, “a deal’s a deal. Five articles of clothing.”
“Yeah,” confirmed Stan, “it just so happens, that they’re five pairs of panties from your hamper. Thanks for volunteering to do our laundry last night, instead of your own.”
Both men had a chuckle at this.
“Well,” Randy interrupted the merriment, “let’s see how honest you were about the combination. Sorry we had to gag you, but we wouldn’t want you to invite an unexpected visitor in to join our fun. Be right back.”
* * *
Mrs. Suitor called out to them, to come back and at least remove the horrid gag, but her pitiful cries evaporated before reaching half way across the room. That didn’t stop her from trying several more times, before surrendering to the fact that it was hopeless. She slumped forward in the chair, her breasts hanging over its padded back.
She flexed half-heartedly against the hinged cuffs trapping her wrists and elbows. Unlike standard manacles, there wasn’t the accompanying *clink* associated with the steel links connecting the shackles. The fact that they were hinged, meant she had very little at the moment at all. With her arms locked straight behind her, bending and twisting the limbs wasn’t much of an option. Fortunately, whether by accident or design, Stan hadn’t tightened them to the point where they restricted her circulation. She still had feeling in her fingers, not that it would do her any good at the moment.
An ache began to develop in her spine, so Rachel sat up straight in an attempt to ease it. There was pitifully little else she could do. Fatigue from her recent exertions seemed to settle on her all at once. She shivered, as the sweat that had coated her from head to toe began to dissipate. Not everything dried however. She couldn’t ignore the saturated seat cushion beneath her sex. Another shiver hit, though this one wasn’t due to a chill.
Mrs. Suitor couldn’t stop her mind from replaying the explosive, tickle induced orgasm she’d experienced. And in front of two strange men! Talking anonymously about these things on the internet was one thing. But having it actually happen, in front of witnesses, left Rachel feeling, well, rather slutty. She was a bad girl and needed to be punished, she thought.
“Stop that!” She scolded herself.
But the thought of acting so iniquitously, be she helpless or not, triggered a familiar flutter in her belly. Mrs. Suitor couldn’t believe it! As drained as she felt, her body still betrayed her. A glow began to radiate out from her sexual core, causing her skin to tingle and flush. Unable to squelch it, Rachel sat there and simmered. Deep down she knew, that it was an itch that would eventually need to be scratched.
* * *
Meanwhile, the ’boys’ efforts had paid off. The combination had been correct. In just a short time, they determined that the safe held just under $74,000. Not the biggest of their extortion schemes, but certainly the most memorable. Glancing around the laundry room, Stan’s eyes fell on some items that sparked an idea. A quick conference ensued, with Randy in complete agreement. With the cash going into a backpack, they gathered up their treasures and headed back upstairs. Once there, they split up. Stan going to Brad’s room, Randy back to the master bedroom, carrying their newest finds.
* * *
“Ya done good, Mrs. S.” Randy said upon entering.
“hhmmnnnfff! hhrrnnnghh!” Rachel grunted whilst looking over her shoulder, desperate to be released. Her body was getting a second wind and she didn’t want to give the ‘boys’ a repeat performance.
“All in due time, Rach.” Randy stated. “We’ll give you the keys to free yourself, after we make assurances that we have adequate time to get away.”
“nnnngghhh!” Mrs. Suitor objected. But she was powerless to hasten whatever preparations Randy spoke of.
Rachel didn’t hear the soft *clunk* of something hitting the floor behind her. She turned to gaze up expectantly at Randy, then down at what he was carrying. It was the portable, oscillating fan they kept on a utility shelf in the laundry room. From its protective cage, dangled two dozen or more, brightly colored mylar streamers. She looked up again at her extortionist, the quizzical look on her face evident, in spite of the gag.
“All in due time, Mrs. Suitor.” Randy explained, cryptically. “Ah! My partner in crime.”
Stan had strode in, after quickly retrieving what he’d sought in Brad’s bedroom.
“Hey, Rach,” he said, “did’ya miss us? How’s that gag holding up?”
He reached down and gave Mrs. Suitor’s nipple a nasty twist. Although Rachel’s face flushed red with the sudden, painful abuse, the shriek she let out was no more than a whimper. When Stan released his grip, the homemaker waggled her breasts, trying to shed the lingering sting.
“Don’t tell me your nipples are sensitive, too?” Stan asked incredulously.
Rachel blushed and cast her eyes to the floor. It was answer enough.
“I’ll be damned,” he said, shaking his head, “Mr. Suitor is one lucky guy. Must be nice coming home to a dish like you, who’s ready to get it on at the drop of a hat.”
“In fact…” he said, a thought apparently occurring to him, “Randy, I’ll be right back.”
Randy grunted acknowledgement, himself busily looking through the drawers of the desk. Finding what he was looking for, he set the box of rubber bands next to the laptop. Then he turned and faced Mrs. Suitor.
“How’re those panties tasting, Rach.” He asked with a cruel grin. “Although, a hot broad like you, probably had a little ‘girl on girl’ action back when you were younger.”
“hhrnnghh, mmnnrfff, gnnnrrmnnh!” Rachel murmured angrily.
She certainly had not! However, there WAS no escaping the salty tang inside her mouth. Enough of the flimsy fabric had become saturated, to release the dried up secretions from a week’s worth of exercise. Her tongue had no place to hide and was forced to savor the residue left on the panties, that had been wedged in her pussy that past several days.
“Well,” Randy said, “you just keep chewing on them whilst we ready you for our departure. Feel free to chime in with any constructive criticism.”
Mrs. Suitor’s eyes shot daggers at the young man, to which he just chuckled. Randy reached behind the chair bound housewife and retrieved what he’d dropped earlier. Rachel heard the tearing sound and looked down. Randy was in the midst of rolling off a 10” strip of two inch wide duct tape. As he brought the swatch up to her face, it wasn’t hard to deduce his intentions. Mrs. Suitor turned her head away, frantically mewing negative tones. The lad simply reached up and grabbed hold of Rachel’s nose.
The effect was alarming. Her airway was suddenly cut off. What little wisp she was able to draw through the packing, was not near enough to sate her starving lungs. Her eyes grew wide with panic and stared back into Randy’s calm expression.
“I can wait ‘till you pass out, Mrs. S.” he said, “but if you cooperate, it’ll be much more pleasant.”
Well, “pleasant” wasn’t exactly the word Rachel would have used, but it sure as hell beat the alternative. She nodded her head desperately, as much as the painful grip would allow.
“Good.” Randy said pleased. “Oh, wait! One thing to do first.”
He stuck the strip to the back of the chair then strode off to the bathroom. There was the sound of drawers being searched and then he returned holding a handful of cotton.
“You’ve gotten awful sweaty from your morning run,” he said, “as well as your other exertions.” He added with a wink.
Once more, Mrs. Suitor wished she could find a rock to crawl under, having been reminded of her recent “stimulation”. Randy set about wiping her face with the cotton. The strong vapors of rubbing alcohol assaulted her nose, making her eyes water. When he’d finished, he snatched up the tape once more, throwing a questioning glance at his captive. Rachel let out a resigned sigh and did her best to hold her head still.
Pleased, the extortionist proceeded. He placed an end high up on the homemaker’s cheekbone, almost level with her left eye. Then he smoothed the strip down diagonally across her face, the end wrapping firmly under the crook of her right jaw bone. Another strip was torn off and affixed near her right eye, traveling a similar path in the opposite direction. When smoothed down, the two strips formed a large “X” across the bottom half of Mrs. Suitor’s face. The pull of the tape, forced Rachel’s lips to close over more of the packing holding her jaws apart.
Next came a series of horizontal strips. The first, went directly over her mouth. The upper edge of the second, brushed against her septum and fused to the first. The third, came up from the edge of her chin. Secretly, Rachel tried testing the tape, shocked at how the adhesive gripped her skin. But Randy wasn’t finished yet.
Another strip was placed under her jaw. Pulling firmly on both ends, he ran them up over Mrs. Suitor’s silver obscured cheeks. Then he ripped a piece in half, lengthwise. Placing the middle on the bridge of her nose, he ran the ends downward, overlapping them under her jaw. Finally, three more pieces were plastered on horizontally, adding an additional layer of stickiness from nose to chin.
“There,” Randy said, “that looks pretty good. But I guess we’d better give it the ‘Stan Test’.”
He pinched Rachel’s nipple, using his fingernails rather than fingertips. Although she screeched as if shot, the nasal whine that emerged was as weak as a kitten’s purr. The housewife tried to work her jaw under the tape, but it remained locked as if in cement. Further testing was interrupted by Stan’s excited shout from the closet.
“Jesus CHRIST!” He called out to no one in particular. He came walking out of the closet, clutching a shoe box.
Although she’d forgotten about it, Rachel recognized the box immediately. She let loose a litany of hums, all in an effort to explain its existence. It had been a gag gift during her fortieth birthday party last year. You know, just the girls getting together for some fun. On one hand, pining over their advancing age, the other, trying to re-kindle the zaniness of their past. She’d had every intention of throwing it out. Only fear that the garbage collectors might happen upon it, had caused her to hesitate.
Stan popped the lid off the box and pulled out a massive, purple dildo. Its dimensions were astonishing. Nearly 10” long, it had a diameter of almost 3”. The shaft of the purple monster was transparent, allowing a near distortion free look at the powerful motor locked within its latex core. Its surface was spider webbed with thick vein-like ridges. Indeed, its widely flared base even boasted a pair of prickly, golf ball sized testicles. Neatly coiled beneath the base, hung its 6’ power cord. It was an apparatus that screamed, ‘Novelty Only’. Few sane (if any) women would ever attempt to insert it willingly. It had been the hit of the party, setting off peels of laughter and red faced comments.
Rachel’s eyes grew wide as saucers, praying that Stan had just brought it out for ‘Show and Tell’. Her sigh of relief was audible, when he sat it on the desk, next to the laptop. From underneath the shoe box, he pulled something a little more innocuous. The moderately boned waist cincer was deep lavender in color. It too, was almost forgotten, Rachel not having worn it in more than five years. She just didn’t have the waistline any longer.
“Thought it might get a little chilly in here.” Stan said to his partner. That brought on a hearty laugh. “Give me a hand, will ya?”
Randy was all too happy to assist. Grasping Mrs. Suitor’s manacled wrists, he raised her arms away from her back. Unlatching the catches, Stan positioned the stiff garment around the housewife’s torso. Re-engaging the fasteners, he set about tightening the laces running up the back. The mini corset ran from the flair of Rachel’s hips, up to a point even with her second floating rib. Stan laced the garment quickly, eliciting grunts from its wearer.
Those grunts turned into whines of despair, as Stan tightened the laces once more. It was getting increasingly harder for Rachel to breath, thanks to the cinch’s constriction. Although she tried to thwart his attempts, Mrs. Suitor was unable to prevent Stan from tightening the laces a third and final time.
Rachel’s mid-section felt crushed. She could not know, but certainly feel, that her current 30” waist, had been reduced to 26”. She glanced down at her reshaped torso. Her hips bulged out from under the edge of the cincher. Her breasts seemed to have grown another cup size (or two), an illusion created by her radically tapered waist. The boning made it clear that there would be no slouching for the indeterminate future.
“Why can’t they take their money and go?” Thought the homemaker.
“Just a few more touches to make sure you don’t get free too easily or quickly, Mrs. S. Then we‘ll be on our way.” Randy said, as if reading her mind.
“Plus, we want to make sure you don’t get bored while you’re getting loose.” Stan added.
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08.08.09
story continues in A College Education 2
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