slinkymel's blog / Bound to Please!

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7:57 Bound to Please!

Hi

Today is the 4th of July, so me and the girls decided to go out dressed in red white and blue to celebrate. I wore white bra and panties with a blue crop top. Next was my white PVC mini skirt and red platform sandals with a 71/2 inch heel (the ones I’m wearing in pic 32). The weather is bloody marvellous in the UK at the moment which is just an excuse to wear as little as possible – and it doesn’t get dark until nearly 11pm. Just to add that little Melanie touch, I painted my toenails red white and blue and fixed a little stars and stripes stud in my belly button.

We arrived at the club and it was quite quiet. There were lots of guys but they seemed more interested in texting their stockbrokers or whatever and the dance floor was empty. Lou had a word with the DJ and he put on some great dance stuff. However, the sight of four half-naked trannies must’ve put the fear of God into the guys because we remained the only people dancing. After 20 minutes I got bored and went outside for a fag (Note to self: Must use ‘cigarette’ instead of ‘fag’ to avoid confusion from American readers). Zvonko the doorman has the hots for me and always lets me use the fire exit. He props the door open with a chair and lets me sit on his knee while I smoke. He is 6 foot 8 inches of pure Croatian hunk and is said to have a cock like a baseball bat. He always likes to run his fingers inside my panties and I wonder what he would be like in the sack. Jeez – he’d probably split me in half!!! Anyway, when I returned, the place was suddenly packed - and my mates were dancing with three guys who looked they had just stepped out of the ‘beefcake’ department of Central Casting.

So there I am sitting at the bar drinking a cocktail with a frickin’ umbrella stuck in it - watching Zahra and Stas using their tongues to clean their partner’s tonsils - when this guy sidles up and asks if I want a drink. Fcuk me! Does Dolly Parton sleep on her back? Now this guy is no hunk - but after five tequila slammers I’m not really seeing the sticking-out ears and the buck teeth. So when he asks me if I’d like to go for a drive I take another jealous look at the tonsil Olympics, and grab my handbag.

Outside, we walk arm-in-arm until he takes out his keys. I look around and wonder if it’s the BMW, or the Mercedes over the road. But no! It’s a frickin’ Ford Transit van! I laugh with the irony and he looks quizzical; “Ford Transit – popularly known as a ‘Tranny’” I giggle. The bulb finally illuminates; “Oh I get it – Tranny in a Tranny!” Jeez – talk about slow! So in we get and drive outta town – in fact way outta town - until he pulls into a carpark in some woodland. We get out, and as he opens the back door, I’m thinking; ‘Sex in the back of a van– another classy encounter for Melanie!’

There is a mattress on the floor but what the hell! I’ve come this far! So I crawl in – knowing I’m giving him a glimpse of my cock inside my white panties – and wiggle my rump at him coquettishly. He gives me a playful tap on my butt and I squeal in mock anguish. The door shuts and it’s suddenly very dark. I know he’s there because I can smell his man odour and I’m suddenly scared. I’ve been throwing drink down my neck all evening and he’s been on the Coca Cola and I feel very vulnerable. He touches my hand and I give a little squeak but then he kisses it, and his tongue runs across my fingers, teasing my rings with his teeth. Hey – this is all right!!! He has both hands on my wrist as his tongue traces a line along my palm and I’m enjoying the sensation of total darkness – as he slides my fingers in and out of his mouth like a line of little pink cocks. Then, with a metallic click, I feel the cold embrace of steel around my wrist.

He is so quick – and I can’t see a frickin’ thing – as he drags my arm and fastens the handcuff to something. I lash out – miss him completely - and hit the side of the van - and yelp as I skin my knuckles. Then he is astride me and has the other wrist, and suddenly it’s also clamped to the wall This is it, I’m going to yell – and I open my mouth – there were other cars in the park – someone will hear me – but he stuffs something into it and I gag and splutter. Then he wraps something around my head, it feels like a rope, and pulls it tight over my mouth. It happened so fast. Fifteen seconds from sucking my fingers to trussing me up like a Christmas turkey. Game set and match to big-ears!

He shifts his position and something slides around my ankles – he pulls it tight and I am totally restrained. My saliva soaks the cloth and I can taste something familiar – it’s someone else’s cum - and I retch. My eyes water as I fight the urge, cos I know that if I vomit I’ll drown in the stuff and save him the job of killing me. Suddenly, I’m bathed in blinding light and I blink like an owl. The inside of the van is painted white and I’m lying on a mattress that might have been white once but is now grubby and covered in stains. Will another stain be my final earthly contribution?

He doesn’t look at me as he takes the end of a white rope and secures it above my knees. Then he wraps it tightly, very tightly, taking infinite care to lay the loops close together, across my bronzed bare legs. For some reason he leaves a gap just below my knees and then he removes the belt that was originally restraining my ankles. He continues to bind me, the unbending trusses pressing my legs together, almost making them as one. Humming softly, he wraps the rope around my feet, clamping my platforms together. However, he is careless and leaves another gap, before finishing the last few loops. This sloppiness gives me hope that the ropes might, it time, loosen. Finally, he ties a knot and fashions the spare end into a noose. I struggle feebly as it passes under my body, between my butt cheeks, and up my back. Unexpectedly he slaps me hard on the stomach. I instinctively draw my knees up to protect myself and he deftly drops the noose over my head.

I try to kick him with my high heels as he returns to the doors but only succeed in almost throttling myself and realise I must keep my legs tucked just to breathe. Mewing through the gag, I wriggle to ease the pressure until my back is against the wall of the driver’s compartment, where I sag against the handcuffs, totally helpless. My captor produces a camera and takes shot after shot of me from every angle. The flash blinding, even under the powerful light. He is a 21st Century Harvey Glatman, complete with big ears and goofy teeth - and once he has taken his pictures - he’ll take me into the woods - tighten the rope around my neck - and watch me die. He takes off his trousers and releases his cock, which is hard and purple-veined, its tip glistening with precum. I press against the wall and try to cry out, but my mumbles will not be heard outside the van. He has KY jelly on his fingers and rubs it over the small exposed area of flesh under my knees and then he is on me – his face inches from mine - his cock probing the tight slit between my calf muscles. He uses one hand to guide himself and he gasps and pushes harder. At first nothing happens and I feel his hardness against me. The rope is unbending but finally, my living flesh seems to melt before this onslaught and his cock slides into the tiny orifice.

Despite myself, I am aroused and my own cock fills my panties, desperate for release from its silken embrace. I am leaking precum too and my shameful desire must be adding to the collection of bodily fluids on the mattress. Faster and faster he fucks my legs, withdrawing almost to his bulging glans - letting my taught muscles fill the void – before thrusting them apart again. Then suddenly he changes position and I throttle myself again as he slaps lubrication between my feet. This is so much tighter as my unyielding platform soles are clamped together. He grunts and thrusts and probes - and the tumescence of my own cock silently urges him to enter me. At first he is unable to penetrate the tight slit but, again, encouraged by his constant probing, the elasticity of my flesh betrays me and first his purple tip then more and more of his shaft disappears into the tiny fissure between my feet. Faster and faster he fucks my feet as he pulls them towards him, tightening the ligature and slowly squeezing the life out of me. I writhe on the mattress, some deep, innermost part of me wanting to achieve one final orgasm before my life is extinguished.

We climax together, him with great grunts as he shoots his load of cum between my feet, one, two, three, four, five spasms. I lose count as the hot cum seems to pump forever. My own cock swells and I find myself deliberately straining against the rope as I willingly throttle myself in search of one last thrill. Then I fill my panties with wave after wave of cum…and fall into oblivion.

My first sensation is of light, pricking at the corners of my eyes, then the pain in my throat as I try to swallow. My senses return and I realise he has taken the rope from my neck. I can feel his cum, still warm from constant contact with my feet, slithering its way under my soles, flowing like a living thing. I glance down and there is a dark stain underneath me - gradually spreading - as my cum soaks into the mattress. But I have no time to rejoice in the fact that I am still alive, as he places a pad over my nose – I recognise the sickly smell of chloroform and try not to breathe. However the heady exertion of my own climax makes me crave for air and I inhale once…twice…then nothing.

I come-to sometime later and flail one arm, taking the skin from my other knuckles with a metallic clunk. I am still in the van and at least I’m not dead ! But my arm is fee, and so is the other and what I took for the van light is a street light above me. My head pounds from the anaesthetic so I slowly glance around. Bastard! - He’s only gone and dumped me in a rubbish skip (sorry; dumpster in the USA). As my reeling senses return, I see my legs are still tied with the white rope but, apart from the gag, I seem to be OK. I untie the rope behind my head with fumbling fingers and pull the cloth out. It’s a pair of knickers, black satin and once soaked with the cum that’s long since disappeared down my throat. I toss them away in disgust and work on the rope around my legs. After an age I slide the last loop away and try to stretch my numb legs. However my feet won’t move, presumably cos he’s super-glued them as a sick joke. I must get outta here so I move them gently and watch as the soft, elastic, skin on the insides of my feet stretches yet does not separate. Then, they part and with a chuckle - I realise my feet were stuck together….with dried cum!

My butt is wet and sticky and I carefully touch my puckered little ass with a finger. It comes away red and gooey and I know the bastard has stuck something up me and injured me. Looks like I will be off to A & E – not for the first time either. I shimmy around, trying to get a better look at my injury, which is strangely painless….and find I’m sitting in the remains of someone’s MacDonald’s meal. I lick my finger and, sure enough, it’s tomato ketchup! I empty the box and sit on it as it has to be cleaner than whatever lies beneath. Bastard took my panties and no doubt will stick them in his next victim’s mouth! My skirt is so short that it exposes my butt when I bend over - so I can’t go bare-cheeked! Reluctantly I fish about and retrieve the knickers from where they nestle, next to a half-eaten kebab. I look at the label - frickin’ hell! Some lucky tranny’s getting my £60 Janet Reger panties stuck in her gob and all I get is a £3 pair of Primark skimpies!!!

It’s nearly four in the morning and will be soon be dawn. Cautiously peering over the rim of the skip, I see that I am near the carpark on Church Street and it’s less than a mile from my apartment. I can call a friendly taxi firm and still be home just before daylight. That’s if he hasn’t robbed me. My handbag is slung over one shoulder and I unzip it. To my relief my keys and mobile are there, together with my cash…and £200 that wasn’t there before. I shrug – I guess that makes us about even.

Balanced on ther rim of the skip, I lower myself to the floor – landing between the outstretched legs of a sleeping tramp. He wakes to find a pair of red platform shoes in front of his nose as I brush bits of God-knows-what from my skirt. I give him one of the £50 notes –the least I could do for disturbing him!

Love

|Melanie

xxxx




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