The terror that began in The Keeper continues for the redheaded dancer, the brunette business woman, and the blonde coed as they are kept captive in a plain, simple, suburban house on a normal residential street by a demented man and his perverse mother. No matter how they struggle, what were once a simple cellar, attic, and bedroom become dens of depravity. Even their own homes and places of business offer no sanctuary as their captors and fate conspire against even their most desperate and seemingly certain escape plans. Can they manage to find rescue or will they forever be prisoners of the son and mother they have come to know as The Keeper II?
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Kayla was inside, an absurdly tight, starched, white shirt opened to her navel, and an absurdly tight, black pencil skirt slit up the front to her trim waist.
It took him literally seconds to comprehend it all. Her big, bold breasts bulged in the plunging V-neck front. The open curtain of the skirt barely revealed the dewy thatch of her soft vaginal flesh. And her firm, tan thighs were on either side of a gleaming, thick, knobbed, gun-metal, impaling pole that seemed to missile up between her long, showgirl legs.
Those legs, encased in gleaming, flesh-colored, thigh-high stockings, and the pole continued down to the closet floor where the shaft was bolted and Kayla’s feet were jammed into shiny, black, five-inch high heels, her well-turned ankles strapped to the pole base by cuffs.
Her head was up and her wrists twisted up her back. Both her neck and arms were tied by soft, wire-reinforced rope to the closet hanging pole, which was perfectly installed just behind her rubber-bandaged head.
The tan rubber bandage was adhered across the bridge of her nose and over her lower face, holding in the same glutinous, gelatinous oral cavity-molding stuffing. He could tell by the way her unseeing, unfocused violet eyes wavered, how much her mouth, not to mention cunt, was filled.
In a slow, rhythmic fashion, he widened her stiff shirt even more, reaching in to cradle her bulbous mammaries as his lips descended deliberately to her left ear. Kayla's neck craned even further back, her eyes squeezing shut as he mauled and suckled her, his hips pressing insistently at her impaled vagina -- her lower labia lips wrenched open as Michelle’s mouth had been by the ring—only the brunette's invasion continued up her to a full eight, pulsing, inches.
Kayla's head, wrists, and ankles jerked in their bonds, but it was useless. He kept slowly slobbering on her head, neck, and chest, while squeezing her boobs and ass, and rubbing himself against her until he came across her torso and thighs.
Yanking closed her shirt, being sure to press the cloth against the sticky cum, he then purposely scooped her tits from the neckline, and clipped one brown nipple to the other with a two inch device his mother had let him.