THE LIBRARY: Rebound Part Five

{This story originally appeared on BDSMARTWORK and features some amazing art by SteveWe thank them for letting us share it with you here}


Last time young, pretty, blonde, blue-eyed Leesa Mendaski (5'7", 110 lbs., 34D-23-33) had left college without telling anyone to discuss her homesickness with her parents. She had not called ahead in case they tried to talk her out of it. Unfortunately, she had stopped at a remote, run-down convenience store near her backwoods resort community to get a snack. There she was spotted by the parents of the boy she "broke the heart of" five years before. This secretly sadistic couple -- an ex-girls' gym teacher and a male nurse who now ran a bed and breakfast out by the lake -- instantly decided to make her "apologize" to their son ... by attacking, drugging, and abducting her. Secreting her in their private quarters behind the inn, they plan her future while she tries to
comprehend her captivity....

Leesa awoke slowly, then very quickly. At first she thought the embrace at her arms, legs, and mouth were the comfort of her own bedclothes, but then the memories rushed back. The crushing grip in the back of the fetid, gloomy snack shop, the sickly sweet smell of the narcotic clawing up into her brain, the horror of the bonds, the terror of their hands caressing her, and the panic of the second anesthetic as mister Brannigan spasmodically pumped her breast....

Leesa's eyes snapped open and she started, realizing where she was. She was lying on her side on a small, woven, oval rug by the side of the Brannigans' heavy oak bed. Her fingers flayed out, mirroring her astonishment at the way the ropes held her arms, hands and legs, while the pliant thing in her mouth and the swath of tape over her lips kept her prisoner. She had to use all her will power to keep from crying or trying to shout.

Instead she stiffened. She raised her head slightly, trying to see if the Brannigans were still asleep. By the way the light filtered through the lace curtains over the windows beyond her, she knew it must be very early in the morning. She listened intently for their breathing, but the roar in her own ears practically precluded it.

She slowly, carefully tried her bonds. Incredible: they held her like an iron grip, but somehow her arms and legs were not dead, bloodless limbs. She tried forcing out the thing in her mouth, but the tape on her lower face held as if an extra layer of skin. She looked all around her: the thick wooden plank floor ... the quaint, heavy, solid, old inn furnishings ... the open bedroom door behind her....

Leesa took one last frightened look at the bed looming over her, then started sidling her body toward the door. Her hands spasmed out, then returned to fists, seemingly with every deep breath. Her torn pink t-shirt swelled with her breasts as she inhaled as silently as she could. She felt the cold wood on her thighs as her pink, cotton, string panty barely covered her soft blonde thatch.

Relief mingled with fear as she looked out toward the empty, quiet hall. There was no ache between her legs. At least they hadn't violated in the night. But still her forearms were lashed together and her wrists tied to the crook of each elbow. Her knees and ankles were also cinched. But it could have been worse. They could have leashed her to the bed, or hogtied her so she couldn't move. She could have been laying between them, the woman's claws on her chest, the man's member deep inside her....

Leesa shook those thoughts from her mind and concentrated on the door. She bent her legs and her waist, then straightened. She pushed with her bare feet, her toes curling against the dust beneath the bed. She started to slither forward.

Visions of the house filled her head. Beyond the hall, a stairway. Beyond the stairway, a door. Beyond the door, the lake or road. Someone would see her...someone would help her....

The young girl made it to the bedroom door, her alabaster skin glowing with morning dew. Her blue eyes sparkled over the impossibly tight brick of tape sealing her lips. Her mane of blonde hair shone in the diffuse morning light.

She ignored the way the wood floor felt along her arms and long legs. She ignored how it bunched and pressed against her lolling breasts. She pushed herself out of the bedroom, looking carefully for the stairwell.

If she only knew that guests were stirring just beyond the opposite wall, maybe she would have started quietly kicking it, but instead she continued to slither in the opposite direction, her hope growing with every inch.

They let her get just past the bathroom door before nonchalantly coming out of their room and walking casually toward her. Agnes Brannigan couldn't help but giggle as she strode past, enjoying the memory of watching her from the bed.


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