Handgaglover

A Turn for the Worse

Chapter 2

The night that Heather kept me bound and inhumanely gagged to her bed – rather, the guest bed that was in my house – was the worst and longest night of my life; it was even worse than the first night after my father left. The loneliness and confusion that I experienced on that night was nothing compared to what I felt while lying immobile and silent next to the dominant amazon sleeping next to me.

After bidding me a "good night", as if such a thing was possible, Heather fell almost instantly to sleep; I could tell, because I soon heard heavy, slow, steady breathing that was certainly not mine. My breathing, on the other hand, was extremely shallow and couldn't be heard at all given the fact that there was a thick, folded, sweaty sock pressed over my nose and kept there by a scarf. Scared out of my wits at the prospect of being forced to endure my bonds and gag for more than a few seconds, let alone several hours, I fought to keep my sanity in check.

If I freaked out, I knew that I would pass out from breathing too quickly and I knew that the irritated pain that I was experiencing from the rope biting into the skin of my arms and legs would intensify. I wanted to freak out, though, as paradoxical as that sounds – frustration, disbelief, and plain anger coursed through my veins. How dare Heather go to such extremes, and how dare she treat me in such a way. She had given me much more than a fair share of punishment that day and night, what with putting her god-awful, gargantuan hands over my mouth and face and just about suffocating me without showing the slightest hint of remorse. That was another thing that was so unbelievable – that dominant muscle-woman actually thought that all of her actions were justified. At least, she seemed to think so if I tried to question the matter.

I thought about the alternative consequences for snooping around Heather's tent. What if she had simply called the police, or security, or whoever? I would have been kicked out of the fair, arrested – maybe – and probably fined or something just in case I took anything. Then, I would have been free to go. Given my predicament, those consequences didn't sound so bad. But, no, of course that didn't happen. Heather had to take matters into her own cruel hands and exact punishment on me by utilizing her own methods. It was bad enough that she grabbed my mouth at every turn throughout the day; did she really have to do such an extreme thing as tie me up and gag me?

Whenever thoughts like those would cross my mind, I felt my heartbeat increase and my lungs trying to take in more air, which, of course, would force me to smell the horrid, sour, salty, musty scent of the used sock over my nose. Those smells seemed to make the tastes in my mouth more unpleasant by making them stronger. My stomach rolled when I had to taste Heather's other used sock that filled every crevice of my mouth. I could feel my teeth aching from being forced to bite into the sock; there was so much of the thing in my mouth that it pressed firmly against every one of my teeth. My tongue, believe it or not, was also aching from being pinned between the sock and the bottom of my mouth. Because of the strong flavors of the sock, my mouth never seemed to go dry considering all of the saliva that was being produced. Whenever too much would collect in my mouth, I was forced to swallow it and feel the sour-salty-sweaty flavors going down my throat.

Could I protest such treatment? No – in fact, I could barely make a sound at all. I swore that it was because of the sock over my nose; that seemed to muffle my pathetic whimpers all the more to the point where even I could barely hear them. For about an hour, I mauled over the sour thoughts filling my head which seemed to match the sour scents entering my nose and the sour flavors pervading my mouth. Muffling barely-audible moans of protest, I futilely struggled in my bonds and felt the ropes tighten around me and dig into my skin more painfully with every twist and pull of my arms and legs. The only things that I could move were my fingers and toes which felt tingly from the tightness of the ropes. After an hour of muffling my head off, I felt a very poignant bout of hopelessness wash over me – it was no use. I wasn't going anywhere, I wasn't getting any help from my mother in any way, and I was all alone at the mercy of a mentally-sick muscle-woman.

As I wallowed in self-pity, I suddenly felt movement from my right as Heather rolled over to cuddle with me. I froze for a second, for I thought that she was going to make the early morning worse for me by dominating me with her hands, but then settled a little when I heard Heather's heavy, steady breathing. I felt her warm, smooth, slightly-weathered skin on mine as she tucked her left arm under her pillow and put her head on my right armpit, right next to my head. She reached around me and tucked her big right hand under my upper left arm, just above my shoulder, and rested her hooked, right leg over my bound ones. I strained my eyes to look at her face (If I moved my head, I might have awoken her) for a moment before looking straight up at the ceiling again.

Incredibly, I could smell her sleep-laced breath through the sweaty, used sock over my nose. Upon detecting those warm odors, I began to cry; the hopelessness of my situation was just too much. Hot, stress-induced tears leaked out of my eyes for a few minutes as I fought to control myself. The smells entering my nostrils were strong, and I knew that, if I wanted to smell them as little as possible, I had to breathe as shallowly as possible. I just wanted the night to end… I wanted everything that was happening to me to end, but Heather, even while asleep, wouldn't allow it. She stayed like that, cuddling me and breathing on me, for the rest of that awful night.

For the next four hours, until some time after eight o'clock, I was forced to lie there, bound and inhumanely gagged, with that dominant amazon woman breathing on me and drooling onto me just below my armpit. I, of course, didn't get a wink of sleep the rest of the night. How could I have? The feelings of stress, helplessness, and frustration coursing through me didn't allow for any sleep to take over me; nor did the rope biting into my skin or the scents and flavors pervading my senses. If I turned my head away to try to relieve myself of Heather's breath, I only succeeded in tightening the scarves around my mouth and nose which hurt, for one thing, and suffocated me completely. The only friend I had that night was the ceiling who listened to my mental cries of disgust, mercy, and despair.

As I said, it was after eight o'clock in the morning when the amazon woman dominating me decided to "rise and shine". Inhaling deeply, Heather turned her head to her left a little and and pressed the left side of her face into my arm before yawning heartilly. Overtaken by her warm breath, I whimpered in disgust and helplessness, for I knew that my day was about to begin.

Leaning up on her left arm, Heather looked at the sun streaming in through the window and the sliding glass door before bringing her face into my view. "Mm, good morning, my pet. How'd you sleep?" the cruel woman asked while looking at the salty tracts that my tears had left on my face.

I looked up into her smiling face with pure helplessness filling my eyes as I "mmphed" out a couple of barely-audible protests. "Mphhh… mhmphh," I moaned which only made Heather's smile widen.

"Not so well, huh? That's a shame," the dominant muscle-woman teased, "I, on the other hand, slept like a baby. This bed is just fantastic." Leaning closer to me, Heather brought her face just inches from my scarf-covered one. "And you do make a fantastic pillow," she said in a low, hushed voice before bringing her face forward and planting a hearty kiss onto my heavily-gagged mouth.

"Mmmphhh… nmphh," I tried to protest, but the soggy wad of fabric in my mouth prevented me from voicing any sort of opinion on the matter.

"But, we'd better get the day going. It's already… eight-thirty… shit, I haven't slept-in like that in a while," Heather said before getting out of bed and making her way over to the bathroom.

"Mmmphhh… hmphhh… mmhh," I moaned into my overly-tight gag as I tried to get Heather's attention; I really, really had to pee.

Turning to face me, her large breasts and crotch shimmering in her satin underwear, Heather said, "No, I'm going to take a shower first; that way, I can make you some breakfast while you're taking yours. Just be patient and… enjoy that delicious gag." She grinned and chuckled evilly as she turned to go into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

Why was I not surprised by the fact that her needs would be attended to first while mine would come last? And, boy, she certainly took her sweet time in my bathroom; heck, it was a good twenty minutes until I heard the water turn off and another ten before Heather came back into the bedroom. She had already combed her hair up and forward a little, so the blonde-dyed tips pointed ahead of her, and was wearing a long-sleeved, white, button-up shirt that was so thin that I could clearly see her hefty, white, lace bra underneath. She also wore a pair of jean short-shorts (probably the same ones from yesterday) and white ankle-socks, all of which must have been taken into the bathroom last night after I went to sleep.

Heather was rolling up the sleeves of her shirt as she came out of the bathroom, and she flashed me a sly smile and a wink as she neared the bed. I briefly thought about how much more tomboyish she looked without her red lipstick, as if that one thing distinguished her femininity from her masculinity. Without a word, Heather started humming to herself as she went over to the small, white, makeup table and applied a bit of lipstick to her fairly-full, grown-woman lips. She rubbed her lips together once she was done and gave me another sly smile while looking over her left shoulder at me.

"Mphh… hmmphhh," I whimpered tiredly into my overly-tight gag and hoped that I would finally be set free so that I could go to the bathroom.

"Hm hmm, what a little cutie you are," Heather said as she got up from the makeup table and came over to the left side of the bed, "But, as much as I like hearing those pathetic whimpers of yours, you need to be untied so you can take a shower."

"Mhmphh… mhmphh… mmh," I moaned pleadingly into my gag and winced as another awful wave of sweaty-sock-smell overtook me.

"However," the dominant muscle woman standing over me began, "That doesn't mean you can go screaming your little head off. If you make one sound, either while I'm untying you or while you're in the bathroom, I'll tie you back up and put you in my truck for the rest of the day. And, it does get awfully hot in there… so, if I were you, I'd stay just as cute and quiet as you are now." Afraid that she would follow through with her threat even if I was gagged, I ceased whimpering completely and waited patiently for my bonds to be undone.

"Now, sit up slowly and carefully. I imagine your arms and legs are hurting a little," Heather said once the ropes all came off. I sat up slowly as she put the rope into the bureau on the other side of the bed and winced as my muscles reminded me of what had happened to me during the past several hours. My shoulders had never felt so sore in my life, and I breathed heavily through an open, tired mouth and felt my lips readjusting themselves to the feel of fresh air.

As I closed my mouth, I fought to suppress a gasp of surprise as the pain that I felt was unlike anything I had ever felt before. Heather wordlessly watched me as I massaged my shoulders, one after the other, and then rubbed the hinge of my lower jaw while running my tongue over my teeth. A lot of fibers had collected onto them from the sweaty sock that Heather had simply set on the nightstand along with her other, dry sock and both of her scarves. I also felt humiliated and embarrassed at being dressed only in my underwear in front of the crazy woman staring down at me with a bemused, lusty gaze.

"Well, come on. We don't have all day," Heather said with mock impatience – she was clearly enjoying the sight of the helpless blonde boy before her. I sighed heavily and slowly slid off of the bed as Heather moved to my left a little and, essentially, ushered me in the direction of the bathroom. I kept a nervous eye on her, while massaging my poor lips with my right hand and hugging my bare chest with my left, as I walked past and made my way into the bathroom.

"Good boy. I'll get some clothes for you in a minute, but, for now, just do your normal routine. I'll make you some breakfast while you're in the shower too," Heather said before closing the door and leaving me in the humid, lightless bathroom. The last thing I saw was Heather's gaze which was, again, amused and unsettlingly lust-filled.

I was never so glad to pee in my life; the relief I felt was indescribable and relaxed my body considerably. Brushing my teeth, however, was a bit of a chore, because they still hurt from being pressed against by the sock wad. After my teeth were clean, I slurped water from the faucet until my gums went numb from the coldness of the water – that's how good that water tasted. My dry throat was refreshed, and I began to, surprisingly, feel a little better.

What did not make me feel so good was the sight that I was greeted with when I took my underwear off. My little cock had become rock-hard and slightly red during the time that I was brushing my teeth. I hoped that it would deflate by the time that I took a shower, but it didn't. In fact, it seemed to swell even more and, as I stood to pull back the curtain, it felt as if it was throbbing warmly. What the heck was that all about?

I pleaded with my body and told it that it couldn't possibly be because of what Heather had done to me… tying me up like that and gagging me so inhumanely. The phantom feeling of the gag over my mouth and nose plagued my face again at that moment, and I felt my little thing twitch in excitement, as if it wanted release. I pushed the notion of masturbation aside as I turned on the water in the shower, for I was in no mood to pleasure myself. The water reached the temperature that I wanted, and I climbed into the tub while still pushing thoughts of self-pleasure out of my head.

That water had never felt as good as it had that morning; the temperature was perfect, and I simply stood under the stream for a minute before preparing to wash my hair. The problem was that, after I had washed both my hair and my body, taking my time when I was washing my face and tender lips, the water didn't get any hotter. In fact, it began to feel lukewarm as I was rinsing off. That inconsiderate muscle-woman must have deliberately used all of the hot water and left me with mere scraps. A twinge of anger shot through me at this thought, but, also, to my horror, a bit of excitement.

My small, four-inch [10 cm] cock, which was still rock-hard, twitched again at the thought of Heather using something like the temperature of water to dominate me. It was then that the door from my room to the bathroom opened.

"Here, Brandon, I'm putting your clothes on the toilet seat. Just come out to the kitchen when you're dressed. Your breakfast'll be ready soon," Heather said simply, as if she was just a normal person and I was just a normal house-mate, before closing the door leading into my room again.

'There she was,' my little cock seemed to say, 'There was the woman who dominated you with her hands and even your water. How exciting is that?'

No! No, I refused to think about such nonsense, and tried to will my cock to deflate. After a minute or so, I grew tired of standing under the lukewarm water and sighed heavily in frustration before stepping out of the tub. I made quick work out of drying off my body even though I had to do so carefully considering my shoulders were still quite sore.

Hanging up my towel to dry, I looked over at the toilet seat and expected to find a thicker stack of clothes than what was there. The small pile of clothes contained one of my white tank tops, which I slid on first, and then a small, blue speedo bathing suit. What the heck…? And I even saw a pair of my white ankle-socks tucked into my sneakers at the base of the toilet. Why was Heather wanting me to wear that skimpy thing? The sneakers were not a problem, for I often wore them in the house. I was the one who vacuumed anyway, so I didn't care. But, that speedo was just too much; I couldn't wear that stupid thing. Besides, it looked tight and uncomfortable.

Dressed in only my sneakers and tank-top, I opened the door leading into my bedroom and gasped as I saw Heather standing there, looking down at me with a confident smile on her face. I slammed the door closed and backed away from it until I was standing next to the toilet, cupping my left hand over my still-hard cock and clutching the bathing suit in my right.

"Hnh hnn," Heather giggled through the door, "I knew you'd try to wear something else, you bad little boy." I breathed heavily and nervously through an open mouth and wondered what she was going to do to me. How did she know what I was going to do?

"Well, you aren't going to wear anything else. You put that speedo on, or I'll tie you up and gag you and put you in my truck. You don't want that, do you?" Heather continued, taunting me cruelly through the door.

I looked down at the small, blue speedo that I was clutching in my right hand and felt the head of my little member pressing into my cupped, left palm. Slowly, dumbly, I took my hand away from my genitals and proceeded to slide the blue speedo up my legs until it was on me. The thing was, indeed, tight and snugly hugged my butt and my crotch. I felt my heart racing as the tip of my cock poked firmly against the fabric of the speedo, making a small tent that, hopefully, Heather would not notice.

"Are you putting it on yet? It's okay, you can answer me," Heather asked through the door, and I could tell, from the tone of her voice, that she was smiling.

"I-it's… on… uh," I began, trying to find my voice, for I was really nervous. I felt so exposed in that speedo; all of my legs, even my upper thighs, were visible to anyone who cared to see.

"What? I couldn't quite hear you," Heather teased through the door.

I cleared my throat and repeated my response, "I-it's on." I stammered a little and cringed as my voice sounded high and pathetic like a weak mouse.

"Hnh hnn, good boy. Now, come out to the kitchen and have some breakfast," Heather said in a low, satisfied voice before turning away from the door.

Breakfast? After the night she put me through, she was going to make breakfast? Was she trying to apologize, or something? Well, I figured that I could get something in town – maybe an egg bagel – for breakfast and then try to spend time out of the house for the rest of the day. I just didn't want to be trapped in my own house with that crazy muscle woman and her gigantic hands. And I didn't want to wear that stupid, humiliating speedo anymore, so I'd have to put on some pants first; I wouldn't have to screw around, or anything. I could just slide pants over the speedo and take off.

After telling me to come out to the kitchen, Heather padded out of my room which meant that the coast was clear to my bureau. She shouldn't be able to see me from the kitchen, and I could slip back the way I came through Heather's room and out the sliding glass door. I swallowed the lump in my throat, for I was worried that my plan wouldn't work, and opened the bathroom door to my bedroom as quietly as possible. My bedroom door was open and, as I locked eyes on the part of the kitchen that I could see (from the threshold to the fridge), I made my way past the doorway to my bureau.

Heart beating in my chest, I stopped and looked to my left when I was next to my bed. I remembered that the jeans that I had changed out of yesterday before going to sleep were still on the floor. My eyes lit up as I saw them, because life became a little easier; I could just take the pants and go.

"Perfe-," I began to exhale in an excited whisper when I saw my jeans lying in a small heap on the floor; I couldn't finish because I was suddenly grabbed VERY roughly from behind by none other than the insane woman who moved in yesterday. In one, swift motion, Heather locked her hearty, left arm around my upper torso and clamped her huge, right hand TIGHT over my mouth and lower face.

"Mmmphhh… mph..hmphh," I moaned as Heather took the air out of me with her left arm jammed into my stomach and kept that air from coming back in by ensnaring my mouth within the firm, semi-soft palm of her right hand. Instantly, my face became scrunched up from the pressure of Heather's cruelly-gripping hand, and I felt pain in my small nose as the upper portion of the hand over my mouth pinned the tip of it and pressed down over the bridge.

The mean amazon woman pulled me back into her and bent a little so she could keep an extra-extra-firm hold of me while looking at my hand-covered face. "And, just what do you think you're doing?" Heather said as I instinctively tried to struggle in her overbearing embrace. I couldn't even come close to reaching up with my hands so that I could pull at Heather's hand over my mouth, for her log of a left arm kept my arms at my sides.

"Mmmmphhh… mhmphh," I whimpered in pained frustration as yet another one of my plans was shot down.

"Oh, you were trying to get away, were you? Well, that's just not going to happen," Heather said condescendingly before starting to move backward and drag me out of my bedroom. I am not exaggerating about that; my heels literally dragged across the carpeted floor as I was forced out of my bedroom while being immobilized and kept hopelessly quiet.

"Nmphh… mhmphh," came a pathetic-sounding sob from my severely-oppressed mouth as I was dragged past the threshold of my bedroom door.

"Stop struggling," Heather said with a confident tone, knowing that there was absolutely no way that I would ever escape her grasp, "God, you really need to learn some respect, little boy."

The crazy muscle-woman then dragged me into the kitchen, and I heard the bottoms of my shoes squeak on the linoleum floor as I continued to wriggle (not very effectively) and try to get away. That dominant muscle-woman held on tightly and kept me from going anywhere and from making even the slightest of sounds.

"Mmphh… mm-ughh," I gasped as Heather stopped dragging me and released my mouth while removing her armbar from my chest. Instead, she spun me around so that I was facing her and took rough, pinching grips of my upper arms before forcing me backward and into one of the dining room chairs. It was, I noticed, the chair to the left of the one that I sat in last night when I was eating dinner. I didn't notice what was on the table at first, because the amazon woman that was mistreating me was looming over my frightened figure.

"Do not move!" Heather growled while pointing her long, toned left index finger at me. I felt my lips trembling in frustration and nervousness as my eyes fixated on that finger for a moment. I wanted to pet those trembling lips of mine and rub my irritated face, but Heather moved behind me and pushed the back of my neck which meant that I should bend over a little. She then forced my arms behind my back and my hands together before wrapping something plastic twice around each wrist. I heard a zipping sound and felt plastic bite into my skin as my hands were brought together and immobilized. I didn't know where Heather got whatever she used to bind my hands, but it felt like something that she could have concealed in a pocket.

"Ahh… thh-mmphh," I gasped and winced as irritated pain flared up in my wrists due to the plastic pinching me.

Heather immediately reached around my head and grabbed my mouth with her right hand, cutting off the wincing noise I was producing and reducing it to a barely-audible whimper. "Shh," she hissed as she engulfed my mouth and lower face with her huge hand, "Shut up. I like it quiet in the mornings."

My mouth was released, and I inhaled greedily for air that was not scented with the odor of Heather's hand. What I smelled instead was sausage, toast, and coffee, it was then that I noticed a plate of five, thick sausages and four pieces of buttered white toast on a big dinner plate with a mug of black coffee in front of Heather's chair which was, originally, to the left of mine. I was facing her chair which had, in turn, been made to face mine. Good grief, I thought, Was that all for her?

My thought was cut off by the sound of fabric making a slight whipping sound behind me, as if a handkerchief was being shaken out. Before I could reflect further, Heather reached around my head and grabbed my lower jaw while pulling me back toward her. She hooked her thumb across the front of my chin and forced my mouth open before stuffing a red bandanna into it.

"Ahmhh… mphh… cfh-cfh-mmphh," I moaned in irritation, for Heather was curt and very unkind with the handling of my face, and briefly choked as the first two fingers of her left hand went too far into my mouth at one point.

"Oh, shut up. Didn't I tell you to be quiet already?" she said as she crammed the bandanna into my mouth until there wasn't a single fold sticking out past my lips. Heather then yanked upward with her right hand and forced my mouth to close around the bandanna that caused my cheeks to bulge outward. She quickly reached behind her to retrieve a roll of grey duct tape and brought a started strip to my lips. One strip was firmly pressed over my mouth before two criss-crossed pieces were applied followed by one final strip applied straight across my mouth again. When Heather was done her speedy, expert gagging of my mouth, she gave my head a curt shove forward which made me face forward again. She had forced my head back a little so that she could more easily apply the tape to my mouth, and, once she was finished, she didn't have any need for me to look up and back at her.

"Mmphhh… mghmphh," I whimpered helplessly as I tried to get used to the wad of fabric in my mouth that was soaking up all of my saliva.

"There, that should keep you quiet while I enjoy my breakfast," Heather said after shoving my head forward. The tape felt awful on my skin, for it pulled on my tender lips and cheeks whenever I tried to move my lower jaw; and it didn't come off or loosen its sticky grip either. The smell of breakfast was replaced by the scent of the tape as I breathed deeply and tried to calm myself. I was feeling quite irritated at that point given how I had been treated.

And, what also irritated me, was that nothing had been set before my chair – there was nothing that had been prepared for me. I guessed that Heather only meant that she was going to make herself breakfast while I was in the shower.

The dominant muscle-woman put the roll of duct tape on the counter next to the sink and sat down in her chair while wearing a satisfied smile on her red lips. Digging into her meal, she wrapped a piece of toast around one of the large sausages and bit off a big chunk of the sandwich-like thing. "Mmh," she purred thoughtfully as she ate and was clearly teasing me as I sat there, bound and gagged, watching her.

Alternating between eating toast-wrapped sausage with her left hand and drinking coffee from the mug in her right, Heather enjoyed her breakfast in silence for a couple of minutes while I sat there becoming more and more irritated. How dare she treat me like that? Being tied up and gagged was a little much after the night she had just put me through. I flexed my wrists again and winced as the plastic pinched my skin and caused pain to shoot through me.

"Mmphh… mhh… mhmphh," I whimpered into the mask-like gag over my mouth and fidgeted in my seat. Heather had been taking a sip of coffee then and put her mug down quickly when she heard the heavily-muffled moans escape me.

SLAP! "MMmphhh… m-hmphh… mmphhh," I squealed in surprise as the cruel amazon woman reached over and slapped me really hard with her huge right hand. Her blow came right across my bulging, tape-covered left cheek and rocked my head to the right which caused my damp hair to toss about for a brief moment.

"Shut up!" Heather spat at me and pointed her right index finger directly at my gagged mouth, "Didn't I just tell you to stay quiet while I eat? This is the third time, you know, and I am keeping track."

Disbelief filling my wide, nervous eyes that were brimming with surprised tears, I swallowed thickly as the fiery, stinging pain in my cheek subsided to a dull throb. I had had more than my share of abuse at that point, thank you very much, and, in a fit of rebellion, I moved to get up from the chair. I didn't know where I would go, but it would be anywhere but that kitchen.

Maybe I could get the front door open somehow with my hands bound… I didn't know, and I didn't think straight, either. Scooching to the edge of the seat, I planted my sneakered feet on the linoleum floor and moved to stand, but Heather – who was much too quick for me – put her big right hand on my chest and shoved me back into my seat.

"Ah, ah. Sit down! You're not going anywhere, little boy," Heather said, clearly irritated, and leaned forward a bit so that she could take a firm hold of my face. Squeezing my tape-covered cheeks, she brought her face inches from mine and said, "Listen, you had better start showing me a little respect now so that your punishment won't be so bad later on. Now, sit there and be still!" She gave my face an impolite shove backward as she released it from her tight-gripping fingers, and I produced a pathetic "mmph" sound as I was forced back into the seat again.

I felt the back of my head briefly connect with the back of the chair that I had been forced to sit in while a frustrated tear fell from the corner of my left eye. I produced a sour, little moan and wished with all of my heart that I was somewhere else.

'How was I going to get out of this?' came a desperate thought from the fear-filled recesses of my mind.

My throbbing, little cock that was still pitching a small tent in my speedo certainly did not want to go anywhere. It seemed to swell and throb warmly with excitement whenever the crazy amazon mistreated me.

'All the more reason to get out of here…' I thought. That was a nice thought, but how?

Fidgeting in my seat for a moment, unsure of what to do, I tried to plan an escape. I could go out the back door, but sliding it open might be difficult with my hands behind my back. And, what if it was locked? There was no way that I could reach the handle with my bound hands which, by that point, were beginning to feel a little numb given how cruelly the plastic was biting into my skin.

"There's no point, you know," I heard Heather say before she bit into her second-to-last, toast-wrapped sausage.

"Mphh… mhh," I whimpered and snapped back to attention like a guilty kid who had been caught doing something that he was not supposed to have been doing.

Looking over at me, Heather chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "Trying to escape. I told you. You aren't going anywhere," she said through a mouthful of food with a sort of patient tone. It was as if she was lecturing a child that she was educating. The horrible part of the situation was that, I was one of those sorts of children in the mind of that crazy muscle-woman.

Trying to hide the worry in my eyes (at being caught while trying to plan an escape), I hung my head and stared at the twitching tent in my speedo. The sight truly depressed me – my small member poking stiffly into the tight material of the speedo and betraying my true feelings about what was being done to me.

"Aw, what's the matter? You don't like it when I tie you up and gag you?" Heather teased after taking another swig of coffee.

I felt my little cock twitch again at the sound of that mean woman's dominant words, as if just hearing her dominate me was enough to make it feel excited. I looked up with wide, pleading eyes that shimmered with tears and shook my head. I desperately wanted to convey just how fed-up I was.

"M-mphh… nmphh," I moaned into my gag and tried to move my lower jaw again, only to feel the tape pull on the sensitive skin of my cheeks.

A sly smile spreading across Heather's red lips, she said, "Well, that's not what I think. Your little friend here is saying something quite different." I knew that she was referring to my stiff, puny cock jutting into the speedo, and my suspicions were confirmed once the mean muscle-woman picked up her foot and planted it on the seat of the chair between my legs. She put the weight of her foot on its bottom, which was on the edge of the seat between my bare thighs, and brought her long, strong toes forward until they pressed against the tip of my speedo's tent.

"Mmmphh… n-hmphh," I moaned pleadingly into the wad of bandanna filling my mouth as my cock twitched again in reaction to it being touched. I was really surprised that Heather was so boldly violating me in that way. I had never been touched down there before; especially by a woman like Heather. So, I squirmed a little in my seat, meaning to get out of it and away from the evil woman across from me, but Heather had other plans.

"Shh sh sh. Stop. I told you to be still, you naughty little boy," Heather said and pushed on the small head of my member more firmly than she had been.

"Mmmhhh… mhmphh… mmh," I moaned again as the need for some sort of release involuntarily shot through my thin body.

"Ah ahh, no cumming, now. I don't want you dirtying up that cute little speedo," Heather said teasingly and took her foot off of my chair.

"Mmphh… mhh… mhh," I breathed heavily as the removal of Heather's foot from my throbbing cock caused an extra-strong feeling of wanting to pulse through my small member.

Rising from her seat, Heather said, "What? I thought you didn't like what I was doing to you. Besides, it's time for you to eat."

Finally! I would actually be allowed to have something to eat and wouldn't have to wait any longer for that dominant muscle-woman to finish her meal. That said, I was curious as to why there was one sausage left on Heather's plate. Was that for me, or did she plan to eat along with me?

Heather opened the fridge and retrieved a banana from a door shelf. Setting it on the table next to her plate, she removed all of the peel and set it directly onto the table's surface, not caring about the fact that residue might accumulate from the fruit. I stared longingly at the sausage, for I was really hungry. I hadn't realized just how hungry I was given that Heather's teasing violation of me caused me to ignore any hunger pangs that I may have had.

Heather then picked up the sausage and, to my disappointment, bit off about an inch-wide chunk from one end. To my surprise, however, the cruel amazon spit the chunk onto the plate where it landed with an audible plop. She repeated this process, without acknowledging my existence or teasing me, until there were seven such pieces on her plate. Wiping the thumb and first finger of her left hand on her jean shorts, Heather rose from her chair so she could stand in front of mine.

"Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way," Heather said while reaching for the edge of my tape gag on my left cheek. I looked up at her with the same wide, nervous eyes as before as she picked at the edge of the tape until she could take a hold of it. "The easy way involves you getting down on your knees and eating from that plate which I'll put on the floor. Of course, that'll entail you actually behaving and showing me a little respect."

"Mhh… mhh," I whimpered nervously as the mean muscle woman spoke. Her dominant gaze never left my shimmering eyes.

"The hard way," Heather continued before ripping the broad patch of tape off of my mouth and lower face in one quick, terrible motion."

"MMmmhhh… mhh," I moaned helplessly into the thick wad of bandana occupying my mouth as heated pain flared in my irritated cheeks upon having the tape ripped so unceremoniously off of them.

Leaning forward, putting her huge hands on her knees while still holding the wad of duct tape, Heather continued, saying, "Is that I dump the food onto the floor and make you eat like the disrespectful little brat that you are." When she ripped the tape off of my mouth and face, the force of the action made me turn my head to my left where it remained after the initial shock of the pain hit me. Upon hearing Heather speak again, I locked my shimmering gaze on her eyes. That gaze showed anger and frustration, but I couldn't help but hide those feelings behind one of timidity and fear. How dare that woman treat me in such a fashion.

"Which," Heather continued, "Given the way that you're looking at me, might be better." Straightening herself, she crinkled the duct tape in her hand and placed it by the banana peel on the table. I continued to glare at her like a small, scrappy pup and did not take my eyes off of her. I was very angry, but there was still a bit of restraint in me that warned me about what Heather might do to me should I try to be bold.

Throwing caution to the wind, I looked up at Heather with defiance as she picked up the plate of sausage pieces in her big, right hand. Moving to her left, so that she was standing just in front of the fridge, Heather gave me a look that seemed to tell me that I had asked for what she was about to do. Then, to my disgusted surprise, she dumped the pieces of sausage onto the floor – the same floor that she had been standing on yesterday; the same floor that my mother, her friends, and I had walked over.

Heather then put the plate onto the table and approached me while I continued to glare at her with as much loathing as I could muster. "Are you ready for breakfast?" she asked me with a smug, confident smile and teasing tone of voice.

While glaring at her, I worked my tongue and my jaw so that I could move the wad of bandana to the front of my mouth. Once there, I spat out the bandana with an audible, defiant sound and felt the wet cloth slide down my body as it made its way to the floor in front of my chair.

Heather immediately slapped me HARD with her right hand, striking my sensitive, left cheek and rocking my head to the side. She moved quickly, then, and roughly grabbed my face with the same hand that she had used to slap me while taking a painful grip of my hair. Digging her strong fingers and thumb into my cheeks, forcing my lips to purse to the point where they were pressed together, Heather forced me to look directly at her face which was mere inches from mine.

"You little bitch. Did I say that you could spit that out? Huh?!" the cruel amazon scolded while glaring hotly into my forcefully-squinted eyes. The tone of her voice, the pain I experienced from the awful slap, and the horrible grip of my aching face made me immediately regret ever showing an ounce of rebellion.

I squeaked out a pathetic-sounding sob as Heather practically spat her question into my face. Scared, helpless, and in pain, I instinctively tried to struggle as a reaction to what that cruel woman was doing to me. Heather didn't like me trying to squirm within her grasp, though, and made me aware of that fact as soon as I started to move.

"No! I didn't say that you could, you disrespectful little brat," Heather said thickly; and, then, as I started to struggle, she said, "Oh, what? You want to move? Is that it? Okay, you can move right over here."

Heather then released my face and gathered up most of my long, blonde hair into her strong, cruel hands. With her right hand, she took a hold of the bundle of hair she created and pulled me up and off of my chair with a curt, rude motion. I winced at the pain that overwhelmed my head from having my hair pulled on so unkindly and felt stressed tears fall from both of my eyes as I was forced to stand in front of my chair.

Picking up the banana with her huge, left hand, the cruel amazon held the fruit in front of my trembling lips and waited expectantly for me to do something. I didn't know what; she simply stood there staring down at me for a moment.

"Well? Aren't you hungry? What are you waiting for?" Heather said, her voice thick with an angry teasing tone. She was speaking to me as if she expected me to just eat the banana out of her hand. That was not all that surprising given the fact that the sausage pieces were still on the floor.

Concentrating on my efforts, I parted my quivering lips slowly so that Heather could allow me to eat the banana. I guessed that I wasn't quick enough for the mean muscle-woman who was dominating me, for, as soon as I started to open my mouth, she released the bundle of my hair and gripped my lower jaw instead. Once again, she dug the hearty tips of her fingers into my sensitive skin to the point where I tensed up my face from the pain. Yanking downward and forcing my mouth open, Heather then shoved the banana past my lips until the tip of the fruit came to my choking point.

"Ah-mmhhh-cfh-cfh… mh," I moaned in pain as the banana was cruelly shoved into my mouth before choking on the thing as it went too far in. I desperately pushed back with my tongue so that I wouldn't choke again, but Heather growled at me when I tried to resist her.

"No! Take it, you little brat. Take it all. I'm not stopping until the whole thing's in your mouth," Heather snarled and continued to purposefully push the banana into my mouth. The fruit was becoming somewhat mashed, due to my pressing tongue, but was still filling every crevice of my mouth.

"Gmhh… m-hmh-hmphh," I gulped down a pathetic-sounding moan and a few pained sobs that displayed just how scared I was in those moments. I was completely at Heather's mercy, and, once again, I deeply regretted incurring more of her wrath.

Pushing and pushing, Heather crammed the banana into my mouth until my cheeks bulged in order to accommodate the absurd amount of the fruit. She watched me with a disturbingly intense fascination as she filled my mouth and kept her eyes locked on my scared and helpless ones.

Then, after pushing the last bit of banana past my strained-open lips, Heather forced my mouth closed before moving her big, strong right hand up and over it so that she could seal her broad, taught palm super-tight over the entirety of my lower face. Effectively gagged up and smothered again, I immediately reacted by trying to struggle.

"Mmphh… mph… m-mphh," I whimpered as I tried to squirm in Heather's hellish grasp, but the cruel woman was having none of that. She turned me so that my back was facing her stomach and then pulled me into her so that she could wrap her left arm around my torso. I heard a mean, airy chuckle from somewhere above and behind me as Heather pulled me back into her so that she could secure me within her grasp.

The gargantuan hand over my mouth was absolutely horrible and made the task of swallowing the banana extremely difficult. Not only were my poor lips mashed together into a hopeless mess, but my still-sensitive cheeks were squeezed tightly by the palm and long fingers of Heather's right hand. That meant that the banana in those cheeks was forced into my mouth which pushed the wad of fruit backward over my tongue.

Swallowing desperately, I tried with all of my might to remain calm and focused as I worked to eat the banana in my mouth. After choking down the initial bit that was at the back of my tongue, I worked on carefully swallowing the rest of the fruit. One problem was that Heather's grip of my mouth was so tight that some of the mashed banana was trapped between my lips, cheeks, and teeth, so I couldn't get all of it. That said, I doubted that Heather meant for me to swallow every last bit of it. She just wanted to dominate me and punish me; boy, was she succeeding in doing that.

Heather wordlessly watched as I struggled to maintain my composure so that I could properly swallow the banana. I noticed that the banana didn't taste like much of anything, and that was probably due to the fact that the upper edge of Heather's palm butted up against my nostrils and caused me to smell her hand with every strained breath that I took. That caused my olfactory sense to not work as well, since one cannot taste something properly if one cannot breathe properly.

After about five minutes, Heather then released my mouth and and torso and quickly gathered up my hair again so that she could take an unkind grip of it in her big, strong right hand. Turning me to my left so that she could look at my wincing face, she said, "Hnh hnn, how was that? Was it good?"

I looked up at her with slightly-squinted, teary eyes as the horrible muscle-woman continued to exert her dominance over me. Heather then slapped my face really hard with the fingers of her left hand. Normally, my head would have naturally rocked to my left from the force of the strike, but, since Heather kept a hold of my hair, I had to experience warmer, more intense pain in my scalp.

"Ahh!" I squealed as I was struck and felt my full, sore, banana-smeared lips tremble again. I felt so scared and alone, and I just wanted to cry.

"Huh? Was it good? I'll bet it was, but I hope that you saved room for more," Heather said with a cruel smile touching her lips. What further scared me was the reminder that the sadistic amazon was thoroughly enjoying herself.

Heather then pulled me by the hair to my right so that I was facing the small pile of congealing sausage pieces on the kitchen floor. I instinctively tugged at the zip tie binding my tingling wrists and felt the plastic dig into my skin again. My hands felt weird, as if the blood-flow was being restricted by the zip tie; they felt tingly and sleepy, but me pulling on them seemed to get some feeling back into them.

Kicking in the back of my knees, Heather forced me to kneel in front of the sausage pieces before kneeling down on the floor at my left side so that she could maintain her unkind grip of my hair. Leaning on her left elbow, Heather then bent me over and brought my face to the sausage pieces until my trembling lips were mere inches from them. I saw a tear from my right eye fall onto the piece over which my lips were forced to be and briefly wondered how it would taste. What?! Why in the world would such a crazy thought like that go through my head at a time like that? I didn't know; all I knew was that my small, hotly-throbbing cock twitched at the thought.

I tried to push that consideration out of my head as Heather gave my hair another cruel yank and informed me of what she wanted me to do next. "Hnh hnn," she chuckled evilly, "Come on, little doggy. Eat."

I couldn't believe what was happening to me. I knew that, given the position that I was in, I didn't have any other choice but to comply. Once Heather used her grip of my hair to lower my head further, I wrapped my quivering lips around one of the hunks of cool sausage and shuddered as I realized where that piece had been. First in Heather's mouth, then on the kitchen floor, the piece of sausage was in my own mouth and was well on its way to being in my stomach. I had a hard time chewing given the fact that my lips kept trembling in response to the fear and the pain that I was experiencing.

"Mm, good boy. Now you're learning," Heather cooed teasingly as I chewed the piece of sausage she had forced me to eat. Incredulity filled me upon hearing her words, and I hitched out a frightened, little sob as I prepared to swallow my first bite of sausage.

Moving my head forward and to the right a little, so that I could access another piece of tainted sausage, Heather said, "I want you to remember this for the future. Should you think of misbehaving again, you'll be eating all of your meals off of the floor. If you can manage to be a good boy and show me a little respect, I'll let you eat out of my hands. I'll even let you eat a meal on your own every once in awhile. So, just behave. You're only hurting yourself if you don't."

I noticed that, as I chewed a second piece of sausage and listened to the crazy amazon's words, a twinge of anger was returning. I was still feeling scared and helpless, but I was also a little angry again. I was angry at Heather and I was angry at the situation, for I could do absolutely nothing about it while bound and forcibly bent over on the kitchen floor.

As I swallowed my second piece of tainted sausage, I wished with all of my might that the torment would end. At the same time, I continued to think of a way that I could escape. As Heather forced my head forward, I winced again and saw another tear land on one of the sausage pieces. Wrapping my lips around another piece of sausage, I wondered what might happen if my mother walked in the door then. I knew that she was supposedly going on a road trip, but what if she came back to get something first? What would she say to Heather? Would she call the police?

"Nnh!" I whimpered while chewing another piece of sausage as Heather firmly yanked on my hair again. What now? What had I done wrong?

"Hnh hnn," Heather giggled evilly, and I knew that she had simply pulled on my hair in order to be cruel again. She just enjoyed seeing me uncomfortable; that was all there was to it.

It took a while for me to finish the other pieces of sausage; or maybe it didn't take as long as I thought. It just seemed like a long time given the physical and mental anguish that I experienced. My hands were still tingly and the plastic zip tie continued to bite into my skin whenever I tried to flex my fingers; my back ached as a result of me being bent over; my knees also ached and were irritated from being on the linoleum floor of the kitchen. My scalp, obviously, was the greatest source of discomfort considering that Heather kept giving my hair a cruel yank every so often in order to remind me of my place. And, regardless of it all, my stiff, little cock continued to poke firmly into the restricting material of the speedo.

One mental source of pain was the humiliation I was experiencing from being forced to remain exposed in front of Heather. The action of bending me over had forced the speedo to ride up a little higher than usual which meant that the lower portion of my butt cheeks were bared to the world. Along with the humiliation, I, of course, continued to experience sensations of fear and helplessness, for I had absolutely no idea what would happen to me next. I had little doubt that my day would get worse, but how? Further, if I managed to "be a good boy", as Heather put it, what sort of reprieve, if any, would I be allowed?

After I had swallowed the last piece of sausage, I felt the knot of nervousness in my stomach tighten again as I awaited Heather's next bit of abuse. I winced and gritted my teeth as the mean muscle-woman gave another horrible yank of my hair before smiling at my reaction. Several tears had fallen from my eyes while I was forced to eat off of the kitchen floor, and I noticed a slight sheen at certain spots on top of the broad spot of sausage grease.

"You're not done yet, little boy. You need to clean up that mess you made," Heather then said, and I felt disbelief poke at the knot of nervousness in my stomach. What the heck was she talking about?

Sensing that I didn't understand, Heather said, "That grease. You need to clean up all that grease on the floor. It's because of you that it's there in the first place, so you need to clean it up."

My lips quivered again and I hitched out a couple of pathetic, helpless sobs as the sensations of physical pain, humiliation, fear, and disgust flared up within me. I secretly knew what was coming, and my body rebelled against it. At least, most of my body did. I felt my rock-hard cock twitch at the thought of "cleaning" the kitchen floor.

"So, stick out your tongue, and get to work. Or are you going to misbehave again? If you do, I might just have you clean my entire truck with that cute little tongue of yours," Heather said cruelly with a sly, confident smile touching her full, red lips.

"Meh… ehh… ehh," I moaned pleadingly as I immediately stuck out my tongue in order to show that I was willing to comply.

"Hnh hnn," the evil amazon keeping a hold of my hair giggled, "That's what I thought." She proceeded to force my head downward until my tongue touched the grease-coated patch of linoleum. The sensations of humiliation coursing through me intensified upon feeling my tongue touching the kitchen floor. Degraded and humiliated, I fought to keep my tongue out as opposed to wincing from the pain of having my hair pulled.

Heather directed my head one way and then another by using her extremely unkind grip of my hair as leverage. Even though I experienced more mental and physical pain than ever before, I was thankful that the only visible thing on the patch of floor that I was forced to lick was sausage grease. It could have been far worse. And, if Heather decided to make me lick her truck in any way, I swore that I would bite her or something. Any sort of resistance would be useful. That is not to say that I could have easily escaped my situation in the kitchen. The fear, though, kept me subservient, I think – fear of Heather's wrath and her huge hands.

Heather was simply delighted watching me lick the kitchen floor. She would command me, every so often, to put my tongue back in my mouth and get it wet again. During those moments, I tasted the sausage grease again before feeling the bubbly texture of the linoleum on the buds of my tongue once more. Being forced to lick the floor was such a dominant gesture, and my stiff, little cock reminded me of that horrible fact every time Heather would pull my head in a different direction. I think what made the experience more painful was the fact that my hair was still damp from the shower. That meant that more hair could be held onto and pulled on by the mean muscle-woman who was dominating me.

I don't know how many long minutes passed as I was forced to "clean" the greasy spot on the kitchen floor. I knew, though, that Heather had forced me to lick that broad patch about ten times over. By the time that Heather was satisfied with my cleaning job, the only thing that remained on the linoleum was a thin coating of my saliva. I had licked up whatever tears fell from my eyes long ago, and, after a few minutes, I managed to keep myself under control and did not actively cry like I did earlier. My cheeks and eyes were still damp with tears, however, and felt sticky because of the salty liquid.

"Hm hmm, what a cute little mop you make," Heather said teasingly and yanked my head up from the floor so that she could look directly into my teary, shimmering eyes. The mean pulling of my hair caused a couple of fresh tears to roll down my cheeks as the tingling, intense pain coursed through me.

"Aw, poor baby," Heather continued, teasing me cruelly after a few seconds of looking at my tear-streaked face and grease-streaked mouth. I could only stare back at her with squinted, watery eyes, for the pain from my head was intense enough that I didn't want to speak. I was becoming very frustrated, though, and felt like I wanted to scream my head off.

"Looks like you need to clean yourself up. Have you learned your lesson? Are you going to be good for me?" Heather asked me as if she was speaking to a child who had just received a spanking or something.

"Uh-huhh… guhh," I practically squealed through gritted teeth. I just wanted her to let go of my hair. She was really hurting me.

"Okay, but only if you promise to be quiet. I'll even untie you so you can wash your face on your own. I need to do the dishes anyway," Heather then said and finally let go of my hair before standing up.

"Guhh! Ah-mmphhh," I groaned in relief as my poor scalp found the reprieve it so desperately needed. I was trying to exhale, for I was quite exhausted all of a sudden, but Heather reached around my head and clapped her big, strong right hand TIGHT over my mouth and lower face.

"Ah ahh, none of that, now. I told you to be quiet. Or would you rather be tied up and gagged in my truck?" Heather asked before taking an unkind, pinching grip of my upper left arm and hauling me to my feet.

"Mmmphhh… m-hm-hmphh," I groaned into her tight-gripping hand over my mouth and lower face as my knees briefly flared up with irritated pain before aching warmly from being forced onto the floor for who-knows-how long.

Pulling me back into her, Heather hooked her strong, right wrist and forced me to look up at her with my scared, squinted eyes. I would have looked at her properly, but my eyes were forced to squint because of the pressure exerted by the cruel amazon's giant hand.

"Well, are you going to stay quiet for me?" Heather asked and wore a sly smile as she peered into my teary, slitted eyes.

"Mhmphh… mphh," was all I could manage given how tightly the insane muscle-woman was holding my mouth.

"Hnh hnn, what a cutie," Heather said before planting a kiss on my forehead, "I believe you." She then released my mouth and upper arm and pulled open the kitchen counter drawer that contained a pair of scissors. She found them on her first try, so I assumed that she had explored our drawers last night in order to familiarize herself with the place.

Coming back over to me, Heather then worked at snipping the zip tie off of my wrists while I continued to gasp and refill my lungs with fresh air that didn't smell like Heather's hands. Once the zip tie was undone, Heather disposed of it while I rubbed my raw hands in order to get some feeling back into them. I was astonished at how red they were; even the tips of my fingers were rosy. No wonder they had felt as if they had fallen asleep.

I was so concerned with my hands that I didn't hear a certain car pull up at the foot of our driveway. Heather was also too concerned, apparently, with dominating me and did not hear that car as well. If she did, she made no mention of it to me.

"Look, I'll be back in a second! Just, wait, you bitches," I heard a muffled voice say through the front door of the house. I snapped my head up and looked directly at the front door; no longer was I concerned with my hands. As the knob began to rattle, I assessed my situation carefully.

When I had been down on the floor with Heather, I considered how many exits there were in the house. The windows, of course, were exits, but they required too much fumbling and would take too long to escape through. The sliding glass door in the kitchen, as well, would require too much fumbling, and the door was quite heavy and could not be yanked open. That left the front door and the garage door. The problem was that I had no idea when I would have a free moment in order to escape. I certainly wasn't going to stick around and hope for Heather to treat me well if I "behaved".

As soon as the front door opened, I bolted; I didn't care if it was my mother. She would have been no help whatsoever; I knew that. I didn't know if Heather was stunned or not. She must have at least been caught off guard, for she could have easily grabbed me from her place in front of the kitchen sink. She had been putting the scissors back in the drawer when my mother entered the house.

It didn't matter; none of that mattered. I considered trying for the front door, but I decided, at the last second, to go through the door leading into the garage. My sneakered feet clopped and squeaked as I quickly rounded the left side of the dining table before unlocking and yanking open the door to the garage.

I guessed that my mother had looked straight at Heather when she entered the house, for I didn't sense Heather trying to grab me. Was she playing it smart so she wouldn't be caught in the act of abusing me? Again, it didn't matter; I was out the door and inhaling the musty scent of the garage before unlocking the side door through which I brought my bike the previous night.

Freedom! I felt free for the first time in two days, and I had never been so glad to be alive and outside. As I ran down the side of the house and down the driveway, the crazy, weird friends of my mother must have seen me, but I didn't care. I barely glimpsed the car in my peripheral vision as I ran down the sidewalk that lead out of my neighbor-less neighborhood. I must have looked quite pathetic. Damp hair bouncing about behind him, a young boy dressed only in sneakers, a blue speedo, and a tight, white tanktop bolted out of his neighborhood with what must have been a stressed, determined expression on his face. That was me.

Again, I didn't care; I just wanted to get as far away as possible so that neither Heather nor my mom would catch up to me. Something told me that my mom wasn't going to catch up with me, for I only heard peels of surprised laughter coming from her friends in the car. They were probably drunk, as usual, and my mother was probably drunk too. She didn't care where I went; none of them did.

After leaving my neighborhood, I ran as fast as I could through another development beyond it before getting closer to the main roads of the town in which I lived. I didn't care about the fact that most of my legs and my lower butt cheeks were exposed. If anyone tried to stop me, I would simply say that I had been swimming and that I was playing tag… or something. I didn't know. My mind was not exactly clear at that point in time. Heck, I didn't even know where I was going to go. The police station was a possibility, but that was on the other side of town; that was an awfully long way to go.

I continued along the western side of town, panting and running frantically, and tried to stick to roads that were used less than the main ones. The reason the west-side roads were used less frequently was due to the fact that the western side of town was less habitable than the other parts. That was because there was more industry there than residential opportunities – there was a commercial railway station (meant for offloading goods), two abandoned factories, two new factories that replaced the old ones, and an abandoned gas station farther on. Few houses were on that side of town and were in the "outskirts" of where I lived.

I was grateful, however, for the emptier roads, because, although the stop-lights were operational, there was no need for me to wait for the signals to change. That meant that I could bolt through the intersections without any trouble. I was a little disheartened to find so little traffic as well, because I desperately wanted to tell someone about what had happened to me. So, I planned (roughly) to travel past the factories, both old and new, and cut east at the abandoned gas station in order to get to a more inhabited part of town.

With fire in my lungs and aching pain in my legs, I pushed on past the train station which was set back a fair distance from the old, cracked sidewalk; I doubted that anyone working outside by the tracks would have seen the scared, scantily-clad, blonde boy darting past them. After another quarter mile or so, I simply had to stop for a moment and slow my pace to a quick walk so that I could rest my lungs and legs a little. I noticed that I was near the two, old factories which were in front of the new ones. Looking beyond the crumbling, darkened, brick behemoths, I saw that the parking lots of the new factory buildings were practically filled with cars; all of the employees were already at work.

I toyed with the idea of going in there and asking for help, but how many people would see me? A receptionist or two? I figured the center of town would be a better place to report an incident seeing as how more people would see and hear me. Walking past the second, sagging brick factory building, I briefly looked at the darkened windows and felt a heavy weight of loneliness wash over me. If I was out for the rest of the day, and, if no one helped me, I could hide in one of those buildings, but Heather surely knew about them. She would probably look for me there after checking the fair ground.

I picked up my pace to a jog, for my lungs were still burning passionately, just in case that Heather was in pursuit. I didn't hear any vehicles; I couldn't, of course, over the sounds of the heavy machinery at the train station. I passed a couple of decrepit, abandoned houses that had grayed with age and sagged on top of their foundations. Heck, I could hide in one of those if I needed to…

BWOOP! BWOOP! My thoughts were cut short as I heard the greatest sound in the world after jogging for another minute. The abandoned gas station was in sight, a few blocks ahead of me, but it didn't matter anymore. There was a cop car behind me, and boy did I have a story to tell him.

Stopping in my tracks, and practically screeching to a halt, I turned and locked eyes on the windshield of the cop car whose glare from the sun prevented me from seeing who was inside. I hesitated for a moment as the car approached me, for it was unmarked. I could see that the wheels of the black Dodge Charger were really beefy, and there were also police lights on the dashboard. I figured that it was simply an undercover cop wondering why there was a half-naked, blonde boy running around the west side of town.

The passenger side window was rolling down as the car pulled up to the curb so that the cop inside could see me. I was about to step toward the car until I saw who was driving it.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" asked the cop, only it was far from who I thought it was. Firstly, it was a female cop in her early forties, but it was no ordinary female cop. Underneath her short-sleeved, black uniform top, the woman had super-toned arms with muscles that were just as defined as Heather's. Her seemingly-gargantuan hands were encased in short, fingerless, black, leather gloves that showed off crimson-painted nails that stuck out just past the tips of toned fingers. My eyes quickly moved up the female muscle-cop's considerable bosom to her well-defined, high-cheekboned, face, over her full, crimson lips, and up to her dark-brown hair that was pulled into a bun under her cop hat.

Immediately, my gut tightened into a nervous knot of fear upon seeing that tanned, female, muscle-cop, for I just knew in my heart that she was associated with Heather.

"Excuse me," the cop said with irritation edging her voice and what I swore was lusty mischief in her eyes. "I asked you a question. What are you doing out here? And why don't you have any pants on?"

"U-uh… I-I umm," I began, too stunned to properly speak, as my mind raced for an explanation so that the cop would leave me alone. I didn't want that cop's help, and, believe me, I knew how backwards that statement sounded.

"Yes? I'm waiting," the cop said and seemed to fight a sly smile off of her full, red lips.

"I-I was just… uh… swimming, and then my friends and I were playing tag. B-but, I had to get back to the house. M-my mom's w-waiting for me," I stammered, trying with all of my might to sound convincing and nonchalant, but I knew that I wasn't even close to sounding like that.

"Swimming, huh? Are you sure about that? Is that why you're speedo's dry?" the lady cop asked me coyly which made my blood run cold.

"W-well… it was a little w-while ago," I stuttered again, but I felt as if I was just digging my grave deeper.

"Well, whatever you were doing, that's no excuse to just go streaking across town," the muscle-cop said with a scolding tone of voice, "Besides, I got a call from your mom, and she's really worried about you. She said that you took off without saying a word."

"Uh… what? M-my mom called you?" I stuttered while knitting my brow for a moment. I was thoroughly put off by her comment, for there was simply no way that my mother would do something like that; especially if she was drunk. Too dumb to try and come back with a statement to try and make my story believable, I continued to listen to the lady muscle-cop berate me.

"Yeah. I just got a call from a very nice woman named Heather who said that her little boy just took off without saying where he was going," the lady cop continued with a very mischievous smile on her face.

Eyes widening, my breath momentarily caught in my throat, I realized that my suspicions were true. That female muscle-cop was like Heather, was associated with Heather, and was here to take me back to her. So, it seemed that Heather had a friend in the police force; no wonder she didn't make a grab for me as I left the kitchen. Maybe she was just wanting to play some sort of sick cat-and-mouse game with me.

As soon as the lady cop ended her sentence, meaning to continue another taunting one, I turned to my right and bolted in the direction in which I had been running. No sooner had I taken five, running strides than the cop car behind me was thrown into gear and peeling out of its spot next to the curb. That sound made the panicky feelings within me increase in intensity, and I pumped my legs as quickly as I could in order to get away from that wicked cop.

After a few seconds of running, the muscle-cop caught up with me and was driving at the same speed at which I was running. I glanced over at the car and noticed that the cop was flashing me an evil, white-toothed grin through the open passenger window. I realized that she had me momentarily trapped, for there was no way that I could turn right. There was a tall, chain-link, barbed-wire-topped fence that stretched from the second house to the abandoned gas station. And, of course I couldn't go left, or else I'd run right into the cop's car.

Running madly, my bare thighs swishing, I huffed, puffed, and headed for the abandoned gas station, meaning to go through with my original plan. The problem was that I had to skirt around the cop car somehow, and maybe I would have been able to do that at the station. I hoped with every fiber of my being that something like that would happen, or else I would be in deep trouble.

The fence stopped at the edge of the gas station's lot before going right along a set of six parking spaces and then traveling behind the main building. I considered losing the cop that way, by running around the building, for the area behind it didn't seem large enough to drive a car through. It was, as it turned out, naive thinking, but I was terrified. I didn't know what else to do.

At the edge of the fence, I quickly hooked a right and ran diagonally past the six parking spaces in order to make my way to the area behind the gas station's building. The cop, meanwhile, sped alongside of me until I neared the building at which point the car slowed. I sped past the corner of the gas station building and let out a tired groan of fear as I saw what was ahead of me and heard what was behind me. What I heard behind me was the cop car screeching to a halt and blocking my exit. What I saw ahead of me was a dead end – the fence met up with the rear of the building whose latter half had a loading dock that jutted out and defined a sort of outdoor work area into which I had foolishly come. Maybe that wasn't it… maybe I was lead there.

I was about ten feet from the loading dock when the lady muscle-cop got out of her car, leaving her door open, and stood for a moment while just looking at me. I had stopped and was looking around wildly for a way to escape, but I couldn't find any. Turning to face the cop, I felt like scared, helpless prey as I looked up into the brunette's hungry eyes. Her big, gloved hands on her hips, she confidently smiled down at me as I showed her my fearful expression. She knew that she had me exactly where she wanted me.

Striding purposefully toward me, I noticed that the lady muscle-cop was downright huge! At about Heather's height, the woman's legs were really toned and long, and were revealed by the short, black khaki shorts she was wearing. Her large feet were encased in hearty-looking black socks and combat boots which made heavy, disheartening sounds as the large muscle-woman approached me.

"What's the matter, little boy? Tired of running?" the lady-cop asked with a mischievous smile as she continued to advance upon me.

"M-meh…" came a pathetic little mewl from my slightly open mouth as I voiced the hopelessness that I was feeling. "P-please… d-don't… D-don't take me back t-to h-her…" I continued before my voice trailed off. I could feel my bottom lip trembling in fear as the prospect of returning to Heather's gigantic, abusive hands scared me to no end.

"Sh shhh," the big lady-cop shushed as she put her left index finger to her lips while continuing to advance upon me. "Don't talk. No one needs to know that you're here. Besides, you won't be for very long."

I had been backing away slowly from the advancing she-hulk, and it was at that point, after I was shushed, that I felt the stone wall of the loading dock at my back. I gasped as I backed into the wall, and the slight whimper that I produced brought out a delighted smile from the advancing lady-cop. Something she said, though, came into my head at that point – she didn't want anyone to know that I was there. Well, what if they did? I seriously doubted that anyone was around, but I just had to try.

"Huh… huh… ," I panted, gathering up the will to scream my lungs out. Sensing what I was about to do, the female muscle-cop took the final two steps that it would have taken to reach me in one, quick leap. I quickly turned to my left in order to try to get away from the approaching menace. I grasped a couple of spots of the chain-link fence and prepared to cry out with all of my might.

"Hel-mph!," I screamed before the muscle-cop leaped forward and roughly grabbed my mouth with her huge, strong, gloved hand. Clamping her big, right hand SUPER-tight over my mouth and lower face, she also grabbed my upper right arm and yanked me back into her in one, swift motion. My thin fingers could not maintain any purchase whatsoever on the fence. The feeling of hopelessness I experienced as I was whisked away into captivity once again was overwhelming and made my stomach grow cold with anxiety.

"Mmphhh….mph… m-hmphh," I sobbed into the gargantuan, leather-clad hand clamped tighter than a vice over my mouth and lower face. My brief scream was reduced to a series of pathetically-muffled sobs that emanated from my oppressed mouth. As the crazy woman holding me turned and began to bustle me toward her car, I tried desperately to plead for mercy and to call for help. Of course, I could do no such thing. No matter how hard I tried to delay the inevitable by jamming my sneakered feet into the pavement, the female cop holding me was simply way too strong.

Not only was I kept quiet by that powerful woman's huge, gloved hand; I was pained as well. She was so determined to shut me up, so that I wouldn't alert anyone to the fact that I was being abused, that she squeezed me mouth and face so hard that everything ached. My poor cheeks caved inward, my lips were mashed together, and my nose was wrinkled, bent, pressed into my face by the upper portion of the hand over it, and was covered by the cop's thick thumb. I could only see a sun-drenched blur through my forcefully-squinted eyes as I was roughly hauled forward to the vehicle that would ultimately lead me to my doom.

Digging her nails more cruelly into my upper right arm, the female muscle-cop tightened her grip, and I knew that I wasn't going anywhere. "Shut up! Shut. Up!" she hissed at me while continuing to bundle me toward her car. She gave my head a couple of curt shakes in order to reinforce her command and show me how serious she was.

I most certainly was not going to shut up, but I wasn't going to call for help either due to the horrendously-effective female hand over my mouth. Fear and dread filled me as we neared the rear driver's-side door of the cop car.

"Mmphhh… mmphhh… m-hmphh," I gasped as that crazy lady-cop forced me against the door which took the air out of me. I felt the head of my stiff little cock pressing into the warm metal of the door. It throbbed with desire and tried to get me to notice the positive aspect of having a muscular female cop pinned against my back.

"You have the right to remain silent," the female cop began to state while keeping a cruel, painfully-tight hold of my mouth and lower face. I produced a barely-audible sob into her hand while experiencing another overwhelming wave of leather-scented air that filled my nostrils.

"Anything you try to say can and will be used against you once you're back where you belong," the cop continued while I attempted to struggle within her grasp. I couldn't move my head at all, and I could not move much of my body since I was pinned firmly against the car door.

Letting go of my upper right arm, the female muscle-cop caught my left hand as I tried to move it up to my face so that I could pull at her gloved hand over my mouth. She twisted it painfully behind my back until the back of my hand was just below my right shoulder blade. I then felt her raise her leg a little and jam her knee onto the lower portion of my left arm so that I was forced to keep my arm where she wanted it.

"Mmphhh… nmph… mmphhh," came a few more heavily-muffled whimpers as I felt cold metal on my left wrist. Apparently, the lady-cop was snapping a cuff onto my wrist. I briefly thought that I might be able to get out of it since my wrists were thinner than most people's. But, those cuffs seemed smaller than, though not inferior to, normal cuffs. It was as if they were designed for someone my age.

I would have gritted my teeth if I could have, for the cuff was tightened to the point where the metal bit into my skin with a very noticeable irritation. Sadly, I could not, and I just had to grunt and sob into the awful hand holding my mouth and lower face.

"You do not have the right to an attorney," the female cop went on with her sick version of the Miranda rights, "but you may try to ask for one." Removing her knee from my left arm, she took a cruel, pinching hold of it instead. She brought her face forward until her lips were touching my ear. "So, go on, little boy. I'm waiting," she said in a low, hushed voice.

Shivers running down my spine, I responded the only way that I could. "Mphh… m-hm-hmphh," I sobbed into her huge, gloved hand over my mouth. She must have been just as crazy as Heather, dominating me like that and teasing me so cruelly.

"Hnh, hnh, hnnn, I thought so," the cop responded through an evil grin before continuing her efforts to restrain me. I had been trying to bring up my right hand in order to pull at the leather-clad, female mitt over my mouth, but the car, and the way in which I was pinned to it, prevented me from doing so. I tried again, though, when the cop stood up straight again. My right hand, however, was caught by the cop's much, much larger one and was yanked behind my back. I relished a brief moment of reprieve when my mouth was free. I gasped in fresh morning air into my aching lungs as the other cuff was snapped onto, and tightened into, my right wrist.

As soon as my other wrist was secured, the crazy female cop reached around my head and clamped her huge, leather-gloved hand TIGHT over my mouth and pulled my head back into her. I whimpered helplessly into her hand as she moved me away from her car a little so that she could open the door against which I was previously pinned. Through my teary, squinting eyes, I saw a black blur before me which was the inside of the back of the cop car.

"M-mphh… m-mphh… mmphhh," I moaned nervously and felt dread wash over me when I realized that I was actually going in there. I heard an evil laugh coming from somewhere above and behind me as I was suddenly rushed forward and forced into the back of the cop car. I was not simply forced in. The crazy muscle-woman kidnapping me actually lifted me up a little and tossed me into her vehicle. After forcing my head down and forward, she released my mouth and, while I had momentum, grabbed my narrow hips so that she could smoothly, yet rudely, usher me into the back of her car.

I gasped once I felt myself in the air for a brief moment. The leather seat was surprisingly stiff, and landing on it took the wind out of me. Coughing a couple of times, I quickly gathered my wits about me and strained my head up to look out of the window across from me. Maybe someone would see me in here and would come to the rescue. I was dismayed, however, to find that the windows were so heavily tinted that, given how dark the back of the car was, no one outside of it could possibly see anything on the inside. Nevertheless, I had to try something.

Continuing to strain my head up, a quivering, desperate little moan escaped through my gritted teeth. "Hngh… hngh… Hel-ghmphhhh… mphh… mm," I began, attempting to scream my lungs out once again with the hope that someone, anyone, would hear me. But, the cruel female cop was too quick for me. Planting a hearty right knee by my right side (for I was on my stomach), she reached around my head and roughly grabbed my mouth with her gigantic, leather-gloved hand. She so rudely silenced me that I heard the airy clapping sound that was caused by her leather-clad palm smacking onto my mouth and lower face.

Instantly, all hope of making any noise at all were dashed. My lips were completely mangled and twisted together. My nose was mashed against the upper portion of that broad palm and was mashed against my face, thereby robbing me of precious air. I managed to get in a couple of slivers of air, and I will never forget the warm scent of musky leather that overwhelmed my pained nostrils in those horrible moments of being silenced. The sun beams coming through the tinted window at which I was staring blurred together to form a teary, bubbly mess as my eyes were forced to squint due to the enormous amount of pressure being exerted onto almost every part of my face. Even my gums were hurting because of how much my cheeks were caved in by the squeezing, tormenting hand over my mouth.

"Ah, ah, ahh, I don't think so. Didn't you just hear me read you your rights?" the female muscle-cop said with an irked tone that told me to keep quiet so that she wouldn't become angry. "Don't you worry, though," the cop continued, "I have something to help with that."

The cruel woman kept a cruel hold of my mouth and lower face and reached down onto the floor behind the driver's seat and retrieved something. A couple of pathetic, hopeless whimpers sobbed softly out of my oppressed mouth while she did so. Feelings of despair and anxiety washed over me as she brought what it was she was getting into my view. She loosened her grip of my mouth and moved her hand down to my chin and lower jaw which she took a firm hold of and pulled downward until the sides of my mouth hurt from being overly stretched. My teary vision cleared for a moment, and I was allowed to see a fat, red ball gag being held in the female cop's oversized, gloved left hand.

"Muh… No-gmmmphhh… mphh," was all I could manage, for the crazy muscle-woman proceeded to shove the three-inch-[8 cm]-thick rubber ball into my mouth as far as it would go. I choked a little and tried to adjust myself as the ball pinned my tongue to the bottom of my mouth and stretched my lips farther apart than they had ever been before. Of course that was the case; it wasn't as if I had ever had a ballgag in my mouth before.

"There we go. This should keep you nice and quiet on the ride home," the evil female cop said while pulling the thick leather straps around my head and securing the gag as tightly as she could. A muffled little whimper escaped my stretched lips as I felt my hair being forced snugly against my face by the leather straps of the gag.

"Also," the muscle-woman continued and moved back a little so that she could turn and plant her hearty right knee on the backs of mine.

"Mmphhh… m-hmphh… mphh," I groaned and sobbed in pain into my overly tight gag as pain flared up in my legs from having so much weight on them. The sounds I was producing, however, could barely be heard and were much quieter than the muscle-cop's voice.

"I don't want you bucking around and kicking my seat, so let's get you nice and secure," the crazy woman said as she slapped another pair of cuffs around my sock-covered ankles. Then, as if things couldn't get any worse, she removed herself from my legs (thankfully) and pulled my feet up until my fingers touched my shoes. Another pathetic sobbing groan escaped my hopelessly stretched lips as another pair of cuffs was used to secure me into a cruel hogtie.

Immediately, upon being "secured", I began to struggle within my horrible bonds. I moaned and sobbed into my gag as I felt the cold metal biting into my skin each time I moved my arms. It was even difficult to sob into my gag, for the ball was so big and turned any moan into a gurgling whimper that resided in the back of my throat. I rolled onto my right side a little and turned my head in time to see a broad, evil grin spread over the mouth of the female muscle cop who had just subdued me.

"Hnh, hnn. Time to go home, little boy," the evil woman said before exiting the back of the car and slamming the door shut. The solid thud of the door's mechanism latching together filled me with an intense sense of hopelessness.

'This is it,' my mind raced, 'Now you'll probably be kept bound and gagged constantly in your own house. And, even if you aren't, you definitely won't be allowed to leave Heather's side again.'

"Officer Abella? Officer Abella, come in please," came a sudden female voice from the front of the car as the two-way radio squawked to life. Shortly after the request, the female muscle-cop opened her door and got behind the wheel.

"This is Abella. Go," she said into the handset whose size was dwarfed by her immense gloved right hand.

"Officer Abella, there's a call holding for you from a woman named Heather. She wants to know if you've found her son yet. She sounds worried," the whiney-sounding voice on the other end of the radio said.

"Mmphhh… m-hmph-hmph-hmm," I moaned as loudly as I could so that I might be heard on the other end of the line. Sadly, there was no way that I could be heard given how the large, red rubber ball in my mouth pinned my tongue and allowed me to only produce barely-audible, gargling whimpers.

Turning to look over her shoulder at me through the two-inch-[5 cm]-thick plexiglass pane separating the front of the car from the back, a shark-like grin slowly spread over the female cop's face. "Yeah, I've found him. He's safe and secure now. Tell her I'll have him home soon," she said which only made me want to moan desperately for help.

"You can tell her yourself. She's on hold now. I'll patch her through to your phone," the squawking woman said.

Shortly thereafter, a cell phone began to ring. Bringing it up from its hip holster, the cruel muscle-woman who captured me brought it to her ear. "I've got him," was her greeting to Heather on the other end. "Where do you…" she was about to continue, but Heather, I guessed cut her off. I didn't make a sound, for I wanted to hear exactly what was to be planned for me. I was so nervous.

"What do you mean? I thought she was going on a trip, or something," the cruel Officer Abella inquired with an edge of annoyance as though her original plan was being hindered. Switching the phone to her left hand, the female muscle-cop wrenched the keyed ignition and brought her car to life. She switched the phone to her right hand again so that she could back the car away from the gas station and start the trip back to my house.

"Well, that's just fucking great," the female cop sighed as she reached over herself to shift the car into "Drive", "So, what do you want to do with him? You know I'm on duty until four." There was a break in the conversation then. The hearty rumble of the car's engine drowned out the small hissing sounds of the shallow breaths emanating from my stretched nostrils. I felt so helpless and exposed in my hogtied state. In all the commotion, by speedo had run up by butt cheeks again and caused the bottom portion of them to be revealed. Also, my stiff little member yearned for release as it felt the warm leather of the seat on which I was laying. That was why I tried to stay on my right side as much as possible. The last thing I wanted to hear was a message from my body saying how great that experience was.

"Alright… alright, yeah, sounds good. Janet should be making her rounds in a little while. I'm sure her crew wouldn't mind looking after him… Hnh, hnn, good luck. I'll see you in a bit," Officer Abella said and hung up her phone.

"Looks like your mom decided to can the day trip. I think one of her friends is sick or something. I don't know; I didn't get the whole story. The point is, you better fucking behave when we get there. I've got no problem throwing you into my trunk while I make the rest of my rounds today. Got it?" Officer Abella said over her shoulder to me.

"Mphh… m-hmphh… mmph," I moaned helplessly into my gag and didn't know how that crazy woman would react. There was no way that she could heard me even though I was moaning as loudly as I could. Would she punish me for it or hurt me in some way?

Instead, the crazy muscle-woman smiled contentedly. "That's what I thought," was my captress' only reply. I moaned into my tight gag, feeling my aching jaws remind me of the unnatural position in which they were being forced into, and struggled within my cuffed bonds. There was no hope of rescue at that point. It seemed that my fate was doomed. Who knew what would happen to me once I got back to my place.

I felt a dense knot of nervousness rolling around in my stomach as the car turned left somewhere and continued cruising along. My mind was a blur of racing thoughts pertaining to what my future would be like. I wasn't even thinking about, say, next week. By "future", I meant "the next couple of hours". My stressed mind would not let me consider something as far away as tomorrow, for example. It was just too much to consider. And, as a side note, why did Heather want me dressed like I was? Was it to humiliate me by exposing me? Was it meant to prevent me from leaving the house?

After several minutes of driving, I craned my neck so that I could look out of the heavily tinted window in order to see if I could tell where we were. I saw a few sections of towering trees which looked like the ones bordering the road that lead into my culdesac. I felt the road decline slightly, and I knew that we were nearing my house. My gut tightened with anxiety once again as the thought of Heather punishing me for trying to escape filled me with dread. On the other hand, if my mother was still in the house, maybe I could make a more productive effort to draw her attention to the fact that I was being abused.

The car, to my surprise, slowed more quickly than I thought it would. It didn't just slow, it came to a crawl before making a sharp left into the unpaved dirt path that was to eventually become the driveway of the second house on the left. I looked out through the window again and felt the straps of my horrible gag tighten as I moved my head. Sensing a sheen of drool that had accumulated on my chin from the thick rubber ball filling my mouth, I stared out the window at the mostly-constructed house behind which I was. The car stopped, and I wondered why we had not driven further.

Without a word, the cruel Officer Abella turned off the car and got out. The heavy thud of her door slamming shut filled me with more dread than the sound of my door shutting earlier.

"Mphh… mph… mphh," came pathetic little mewls from my filled mouth as I watched the she-hulk outside the rear driver's side door take out her phone and, presumably, call Heather. The evil muscle-woman only said a few words to the person at the other end of the line before hanging up and holstering her phone again.

"Alright," Officer Abella began as she opened the door near my feet, "I'm going to uncuff you now, but remember what I said earlier. If you fuck around, you're going in my trunk for the rest of the day." And, with that, the mean woman grabbed my thin calves and pulled me toward her so that she could more easily access the cuffs keeping me in a hogtie. I groaned into my gag as the pulling motion caused my shirt to ride up and my skin to rub irritatingly across the warm, sticky leather seat.

"And if you drooled all over my seat," Officer Abella continued as she took the cuffs off of my ankles, "I beat that cute little ass of yours until you can't sit for a week." She tossed the cuffs onto the floor behind her driver's seat and leaned into the car. She planted her left hand on the seat beside me and grabbed a rough handful of my pinned hair. Digging her nails painfully into my scalp, she yanked my head up and looked over my shoulder to see if my saliva had made it onto her seat.

"Gmphh… mph… m-hm-hmphh," I groaned and sobbed softly into my gag as I felt warm, sharp pain spread through my scalp. I wished with all of my might that the mean muscle-woman mistreating me didn't see anything that displeased her.

"Well, look at that. The little brat managed to keep his drool in his mouth where it belongs. Lucky for you," Officer Abella said and let go of my hair. She gave my head a curt shove forward which forced my forehead to make contact with the firm seat. I felt a tear escape my right eye then, for a twinge of frustration caused my eyes to water. I was extremely tired all of a sudden, and the dread filling my gut seemed to be the only thing preventing me from falling asleep.

The evil female cop grabbed the upper portions of my arms in unkind, pinching holds and pulled me off of the seat and out of her car. Pulling me back into her firm body, she roughly grabbed my overly-gagged mouth with her huge, leather-gloved right hand.

"Gmphh… mph," came pathetic, small sounds from my mouth as a response to being more effectively silenced. The sides of my mouth and my stretched lips immediately began to hurt more as they were pinched between the tight-gripping hand and the hard rubber ball filling my mouth to its greatest extent. The thick thumb clamped over the bridge of my nose and forced me to smell warm, musty leather with every strained breath I managed to take. I tried to struggle, but with my hands still cuffed behind my back and my head pinned against the upper portion of Officer Abella's torso, I could not do anything to relieve myself of the horrible situation that I was in.

Slamming the door shut, the cruel muscle-woman holding me captive took a firm grip of my upper left arm and began hauling me forward toward the next partially-constructed house in the neighborhood. I could not see much through my teary, squinted eyes, but I could tell that I was being forced to walk behind these neighboring houses in order to, most likely, avoid any unnecessary attention from my mother or her friends if they happened to be looking outside.

Rocky dirt crunched under my small, sneakered feet and Officer Abella's boots as I was forced along slowly yet smoothly. I was being moved with enough momentum, and was being held with enough firmness, that any struggling I managed to do was futile. Heck, I'll bet that the evil muscle-woman didn't even feel me trying.

What I did know is that I desperately wanted someone to see me being abused so that the nightmare would end. My irritated wrists complained constantly of the metal biting into them. Combined with the enormous amount of pressure being exerted on most of my face, along with the humiliation of being severely underdressed in public, the sensation was causing me a considerable amount of stress. I just wanted to call for help! Or, at the very least, I wanted to speak again. I feared, however, that I would never be allowed such a pleasure in Heather's company again. Oh, what would she do to me when I got back? And what would the mean woman holding me all shut up and helpless behind those houses do to me if Heather invited her over?

I felt hot tears of irritated stress spill from the corners of my eyes. Only a few tears fell, but they were enough to warrant attention from the cruel woman holding me. Maybe she felt them on her right index finger which was gripping my upper left cheek just below my eye.

"Oh, what's the matter? Are you crying already?" Officer Abella asked teasingly, "You're just disappointed that you couldn't get away, aren't you? But that's the whole point with you, isn't it? Heather told me you really like this sort of thing… Running away from a woman with big, strong hands so that she'll chase you and grab your mouth to shut you up."

"Gmph… m-hmph… nmphh," I moaned desperately into her gargantuan hand clamped over my heavily-gagged mouth as I realized what I already knew deep down: that Officer Abella was Heather's friend and that she was told all about Heather's misreading of my actions over the previous days.

"Hnh, hnh, hnn," Officer Abella chuckled evilly, "Well, you should have found me sooner. Who knows how many times I've passed through this neighborhood before. I would've gladly yanked you off of the street with my hand over your mouth and, maybe, played 'cops and robbers' with you, or something. And we still can. I'll just have to visit now that I know where you live."

I was going to try and make another barely-audible reply, but we were at the far corner of the house nearest to mine. Officer Abella stopped me and held me tightly within her gigantic, gloved hands. She kept me slightly behind the corner of the house while she peered around the corner to see if anyone was outside. Studying the side of my house, the side with the sliding glass door leading into Heather's room, she said, "Okay, looks like the coast is clear."

I choked back a sob and swallowed thickly while trying to draw in another sliver of leather-scented air through my squished nostrils. I felt another warm tear leave my right eye as the mean muscle-woman looked down at me and flashed me a broad, victorious grin. She was clearly savoring the moment of holding me captive and quiet.

"Remember, not a sound," Officer Abella said in a low, hushed voice, "Now, come on." She then proceeded to force me in a quick manner from the corner of the neighboring house and across the hundred yards separating it from my house.

"Mph… m-hmph-hmphhh," I sobbed helplessly into my heavily-oppressed mouth as I was hauled toward the side of my house. Officer Abella kept me on a path of travel that ended at the right of the door so that, if my mother or one of her friends happened to be in that room, I would not be seen, or, if I was, I would be seen as little as possible.

Reaching the house, the cruel muscle-woman keeping me quiet and immobile within her unbearable grasp slowed her pace so that she could turn and put her back to the side of the house just to the right of the sliding glass door. "Mph… m-hmphh..gmphh," came a couple of pathetic whimpers from me.

"Shht! Quiet," Officer Abella hissed while looking down into my hand-covered, reddened face. She held me still for a moment and listened for signs of activity inside. Moving away from the side of the house a little, she turned to her right and released my upper left arm. Keeping an unbearable grip of my gagged mouth, Officer Abella reached forward with her left hand and softly tapped her nails on the glass door. Almost immediately, the door slid open.

Leaning out of the door, Heather quickly greeted her friend before saying, "Bring him in here." She said it in a hushed voice which meant that my mother and her friends were probably in the house. I was not able to see if her friend's car was out front due to the blurriness of my vision resulting from the pressure being exerted onto my mouth and face.

Officer Abella resumed her cruel hold of my upper left arm and forced me through the door which was shut by Heather almost immediately after I passed through it. Stopping just inside the door, the cruel muscle-woman keeping me shut-up and helpless turned so that I was facing Heather. We stood just by the nightstand on the right side of Heather's bed. It was the point in the room that was farthest from the door.

Heather flashed me a wicked glare. "Denise, let him go for a minute so he can see me," Heather said to her lady-cop friend. Denise, which, apparently, was Officer Abella's first name, loosened her horrible grip of my gagged mouth and slid her huge gloved hand down until her broad palm was under my chin. She gripped my lower jaw with her strong fingers so that I would be forced to look at the dominant muscle-woman standing before me.

Although the look she gave me was intense, I detected more mischievous lust and amusement than downright anger in those eyes. Was she actually enjoying that twisted moment? Thoughts about earlier in the morning raced through my head, and I thought that maybe Heather wasn't actually angry when she was mistreating me in the kitchen. Maybe she was acting it in order to display her dominant nature. She was acting out her part in that fantasy she invented the previous evening, saying that I liked being handgagged, and whatnot.

Putting her oversized hands on her hips, Heather leaned forward a little which made her look even more like a towering figure. She sighed heavily and tapped her index fingers thoughtfully on her jean-covered waist. "So, did you enjoy yourself, little boy?" she asked me in a low, thick voice.

"Mph… mph," I whimpered almost silently while attempting to shake my head. I was so nervous that my knees seemed to move independently of my willpower and caused me to do a slight, anxious dance.

"Shut up! And be still," Denise hissed behind and above me while giving my head a curt shake by using her grip of my lower jaw as leverage. Swallowing thickly, I felt the salty tear tracks on the skin of my upper cheeks begin to dry and leave an itchy sensation behind.

Heather wore a slight, mischievous smile on her full, red lips which told me she was thoroughly enjoying herself. "I bet you did. It's not every day that a boy like you gets to enjoy the feeling of being kidnapped off of the street by a strong woman with big, mouth-gagging hands, is it? You were probably hoping that I would come after you, but I figured you might like it if Denise here grabbed you instead." Coming closer to me and bending down a little more so that her face was inches from mine, she continued, "But don't you worry. The fun's just beginning."

I looked up into her intense, lusty gaze with scared, helpless eyes that were threatening to become wet with tears again. How could she be getting away with something like this? What right did she have to treat me the way she was treating me? And when would it end? And what did she mean by "the fun's just beginning"?

"Hhn, yeah it is," Denise said behind me, "But I've got to get back on the road. So, what's going on? Can I leave him here, or what?"

Heather stood up straight and said, "Oh, right, yeah you can leave him here. His mom and two of her friends are drinking out back."

"Okay, good. What's the deal with the friend, anyway? You said she was sick," Denise replied.

"Yeah, I forgot her name, but she got alcohol poisoning last night and had to stay at the hospital. Supposedly, they're going to go visit her, but I don't know when. They could be here all fucking day, for all I know," Heather said.

"Shit, well, just keep him in here, I guess. Or, I could take him to that house down the block. Like I said earlier, Janet would be glad to visit him," Denise said and released my upper left arm so she could jerk a thumb over her shoulder in a demonstrative gesture indicating the direction of the house she meant to take me to.

"No, he can stay here. Besides, it'll be more fun if I let him go. It gives me more excuses to grab his cute little mouth," Heather said with a smile touching her full, red lips again.

Giggling, Denise said, "And he sure has a cute little mouth, doesn't he?" She directed my head up and back a little so that she could lean over me. Bringing her face to mine, she then planted a hearty kiss on the red rubber ball filling and stretching my mouth. "Can't wait to play with you again," she said.

With that, Denise straightened and leaned forward to meet Heather's awaiting lips with hers. After kissing her friend, the mean female muscle-cop took a hold of the cuffs binding my wrists and snapped them off with a key. Sliding the cuffs into a pouch on her belt, she turned to leave via the same way she came in. "Have fun you two," she jibed over her shoulder and went out the sliding glass door which she carefully slid open and shut to make as little noise as possible.

With Denise so close behind me, I was afraid to move an inch after I was uncuffed. Once she was gone, my nervous eyes locked onto Heather's disapproving gaze while I slowly rubbed by thin wrists to try and relieve some of the irritation that the pinching metal had caused. There was a knot of dread in my stomach that kept rolling around like a wad of wet dough, making me feel nauseous at one moment and as if I had to go to the bathroom the next.

Keeping her eyes locked onto my helpless, quivering form, Heather casually advanced toward me. A slow, mischievous, amused smile spread over her full, red lips. "Now that you've gotten all that out of your system, maybe we can start to get along again," she said with what sounded like mock disapproval, as if she simply wanted to say "You naughty boy" as many times as she could without explicitly doing so.

"That said, don't think that you're going to get off that easily. Denise roughing you up a little was just the tip of the iceberg. You still have a lot to learn about respecting me, and I am going to make sure that you learn your lesson," Heather continued. She was standing just in front of me then, and I looked up at her with wide, scared eyes. Her hands moved up to my face, and I flinched nervously, for I had no idea what she was going to do.

"Hnh, hnn. It's okay, I'm just going to take your gag off. Although, if I was you, I'd be nervous too," Heather said with a tone of voice that clearly expressed her genuine delight of my reaction. "The problem is that, until your mom and her friends leave, I'm going to have to spread the punishment out into smaller bits rather than giving you a good dose like I planned."

The crazy muscle-woman's long, strong fingers worked the buckle of the ball gag open, and, soon after, the straps were brought around my head so that the ball could be slid out of my mouth. Stopping just before that moment, Heather said, "Now, when I take this out, you're going to feel some pain once you close your mouth. If you make one sound, I'll shove two socks into your mouth, and the ball will go right back where it belongs. Got it?"

Still looking up at her with eyes that glistened with old tears, I nodded slightly and clutched my thin hands in front of my chest. I didn't even realize that I was doing it. I was just so nervous, and I wanted that ball out of my mouth so badly that I wasn't thinking clearly. Heck, who would in such a situation?

Once the fat, red ball was past my lips, I tentatively closed my mouth for the first time in who-knows-how-long. Immediately, the pain that Heather mentioned shot through my lower jaw like lightning zigzagging from the hinges to my chin and all throughout my teeth. Heather watched with pleasure as my entire face scrunched up into a wincing expression as I fought to deal with the pain while staying quiet. It was similar to the pain I experienced earlier when the first awful gag was taken out of my mouth. I rubbed my lower jaw a little before running my fingers over my irritated lips in order to help lessen the raw feeling that had built up within them.

Heather looked at the part of the red, rubber ball that had been in my mouth. "Hmm, you're just a little drool machine, aren't you?" she asked teasingly, and I looked at the shiny part of the ball with a twinge of wonder. That thing had really been in my mouth? No wonder I was hurting so badly. That thing was bigger than I thought, although, the first time I saw it was through squinted eyes.

"You're going to have to clean that off later," Heather said as she tossed the ball gag onto the bed beside us. Looking down at me, she quickly shot her huge right hand forward and snatched a horribly-firm grip of my damp hair.

"Hnghh… ghnghh," came a couple of small whimpers through my clenched teeth as I was roughly grabbed by the mean muscle-woman in front of me. Before I could react in any other way, Heather took a hold of my face with her big left hand. Digging her fingers and thumb into my cheeks, she squeezed really hard and made my sore, thick lips purse until they were sealed against each other.

"But, first, I want to dry your hair. That is, after I gag that cute little mouth of yours," Heather said, and I latched onto her hearty left wrist with my small hands in order to try and relieve myself of some of the pain filling my face.

"Nmhh… MMmhh," I whimpered before moaning briefly in surprise as I felt large, warm, silky lips engulf mine for a brief moment as Heather wrapped her mouth around mine and smacked a hearty kiss onto me.

"Now, let's go see what we have to gag you with. We wouldn't want mommy to know that you're here with me, now would we?" Heather said teasingly as she released my cheeks only to slide her huge left hand up and over my mouth. Using her fierce grip on my hair as a bit of leverage, she shoved my face forward until my mouth poor lips were mashed into her broad, work-toughened palm which caved in my left cheek while her hearty, strong fingers pressed firmly into my right one.

"Nmphh… m-hmphh," I muffled a sob into the big, strong hand over my mouth as pain shot through my head once more.

"Hnh, hnn, that's right. No, we wouldn't," Heather teased while leading me by the mouth and head toward the closet behind her. The fact that she added another level of teasing to my situation by treating my moans as an actual response to her ridiculous question was just mean.

A few feet forward, and we were standing just in front of the closet. Before releasing my mouth, Heather said, "Now, I was going to tie you up and dry your hair for you, but I've changed my mind," she said looking into my eyes which were made to be slits from the enormous amount of gagging pressure being exerted onto my face. "If you can be good, I'll let you have your hands free so that you can dry your hair yourself. Think you can do that? Think you can behave for just a few minutes?"

"Mphh… mhmphh… mph," I whimpered helplessly in response. The warm smell of Heather's left hand filled my nostrils as I snuffled in a breath in response to another cruel yank of my hair.

"Good. Now then," Heather replied before loosening her grip of, and then sliding her hand away from, my mouth so that she could open the closet doors. With her left hand away from my face, I reached around and began pawing at the hand holding my hair in such a painful manner.

"Well, not much dirty laundry just yet, but… hey, here we go," Heather said thoughtfully before bringing up a dry, yet wrinkled and dirty sock which she held before my wincing face. "Remember this? It was tied around your nose and mouth not too long ago."

I looked at the thing with disgust, and a twinge of nausea passed through my dread-filled stomach as the memory of how that thing smelled was brought back to me.

"It looks tasty, doesn't it?" Heather teased as she brushed her sock across my lips. I looked up at her with nervous eyes as she told me to open my mouth. "Remember, unless you want me to tie you up again, which I imagine that you do, you'll do as I say. Now, open your mouth," Heather commanded a little more firmly than before, and I reluctantly parted my lips so that she could push the sweaty, salty material into my awaiting mouth.

"Nnghh… nanghh… nn-gmmphhh… mphh," I moaned in disgust as the sour flavors of that muscle-woman's used sock overwhelmed my taste buds. After prodding the sock into my mouth, Heather inverted her left hand and clamped it very tightly over my mouth and lower face so that I couldn't spit out the sock. Wearing a confident little smile, she then pulled my hair a little more cruelly and began to lead me backward toward her bureau.

"Mphh… mph… m-hm-hmmphh," I whimpered in pain and nervousness as I was very uncomfortable being led backward like that. I didn't know we were going to the bureau. I thought she was going to… I don't know… take me to the floor or do something to scare me.

I muffled a couple more pathetic, barely-audible whimpers into the broad, taught palm pressed firmly over my mouth as I was lead backward a few more steps. The bureau in that room consisted of two smaller top drawers with four larger, deeper ones below them.

"Keep that sock in your mouth," Heather said as she released my face and hair. She opened the top left-hand drawer of the bureau and produced a thick roll of extra-wide, grey duct tape. I looked up at the roll nervously as Heather's large, super-strong hands worked to start a strip before tearing it off.

A strong wave of helplessness washed over me as Heather pressed the strip of hearty tape firmly over my lips which were slightly parted by the thick wad of bad-tasting fabric in my mouth. I nervously clutched and wrung my hands at my stomach, for I didn't know what else to do. To my horror, my little cock, which was still rock-hard and jutting out into the material of the tight-fitting speedo, twitched with excitement as I smelled the tape which covered my lower face from my chin to just below my nose.

That twitch did not go unnoticed by the cruel woman who was dominating me. Wearing a smile on her lips as she started another strip of tape, Heather said, "Don't think I didn't see that. If you're enjoying something as simple as this, just wait until later when your mom leaves. Then, we'll really have some fun."

Pressing the next strip of tape over my mouth in a diagonal manner, Heather gave me a lustful gaze which told me that things were only going to get worse for me. I felt my heart thudding heavily in my chest as another piece of tape running in the opposite diagonal direction was pressed firmly onto my mouth. That was followed by a piece which was wrapped under my chin and pressed onto my cheeks. Then, as a final touch, two more thick, wide strips were plastered over my mouth so that, by the end, I had a hearty, effective mask of tape over the entirety of my lower face.

Surveying her handiwork with approval, Heather returned the roll of tape to her bureau drawer and listened for a moment to see if, I guessed, anyone else in the house was near. Apparently, my mother and her friends were still in the backyard, for I could hear neither footsteps nor female voices. That was not, as far as I was concerned, a good thing.

"No one there," Heather said, clearly pleased, as she leaned forward and took my taped chin in her right index finger and thumb. "We're still all alone," she said before pecking a kiss onto the tape-mask where my mouth was.

"Now, to get that hair nice and dry," Heather said as she released my chin and moved her right hand to my left ear. I only had a chance to flinch momentarily because I didn't know what she was going to do. Using the same fingers she used to hold my chin, Heather took a pinching, twisting grip of my left ear which immediately caused warm, irritated pain to rush through my body.

"Mmphh… m-hmphh," I squeaked in surprise and let out an annoyed sob into my hearty gag while shooting my hands up to grab a hold of the much-much-larger one holding onto me. Before my eyes squinted in response to the pain, I saw another mischievous look overtake Heather's glaring eyes.

"I'll let you walk around freely eventually, but not yet. For now, I want to make sure that you don't go anywhere, even if you are unbound," Heather said as she straightened and began to lead me by the ear toward the door that led into the bathroom. She must have seen the blow-dryer in my bathroom when she put clothes on the toilet seat while I was in the shower. I usually used one to dry my hair, and I kept it wrapped in its cord beside the toilet.

I whimpered in pain and irritation from having my ear pulled and having the skin of my face aggravated by the awfully-sticky tape over my mouth. Was there ever going to be an end in sight? How long was Heather going to punish me for? I just didn't understand, and I didn't have any hope of relief. I… I guess I just had to make the best of whatever was going to happen to me. I just didn't know what else to do. It wasn't as if I was going anywhere again anytime soon. My mind was a racing blur that could not focus on any one thought for long. I was so focused on living in the moment; rather, being forced to live in the moment.

Keeping a mean, twisting hold of my left ear, which burned with sharp, irritated pain, Heather opened the door of the bathroom with her left hand and forced me inside. Releasing my poor, reddened ear, she put her big right hand on the back of my neck and shoved me. I produced a small squeak into the thick sock packing my mouth before catching myself on the bathroom sink. I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror ahead of me and did not like what I saw: a nervous, stressed blonde boy with long, damp hair and a thin disposition that made him look almost frail and most definitely helpless.

"Here you go," Heather said from beside me as she held my hairdryer against my right arm. When I turned my tired, anxious eyes up to her, she said, "Come on. Just do what you usually do in the morning. Pretend I'm not even here."

Well, that was easier said than done what with her tall, toned frame and her very large, powerful, mouth-holding hands too close to me. As I began to dry my hair, I found that some knots had began to form throughout my mane. It would require a lot of brushing to get those out. On the plus side, for a moment, the loud whirring of the hairdryer drowned out any chance of Heather's voice being heard by me. It didn't really give her a chance to speak.

The mean muscle woman did not, however, need to talk to make her presence known. The entire time that I dried my hair, she stood directly behind me, giving me the minimum amount of room that I needed in order to maneuver the dryer around my head. Despite my efforts to keep my eyes cast downward, I was so nervous that I kept looking up at Heather's lustful gaze in the mirror every few moments. I just didn't know what she was going to do to me from one minute to the next. I couldn't predict her actions at all.

For example, when my hair was about half-dry, Heather began to move her big hands around her considerable bosom. She lightly stroked her large, round breasts and caused her thick nipples to harden and jutt stiffly into the material of her bra which could be seen through her button-up shirt. Her hearty stare never left my reflected face as she did so.

I felt my throat go dry for a moment before wincing in disgust as a trace of saliva, which was soured by the muscle-woman's dirty sock in my mouth, eased its way across the back of my tongue. A slow smile spread across Heather's full, red lips as she watched her helpless victim shift uneasily from one sneakered foot to the other as he finished blowing his hair dry. Once I knew that my hair was dry, I held the still-running dryer in my hand and tried to play for time. Heather saw through the guise at once.

"Are you done?" it seemed like Heather's reflection mouthed above me. I couldn't quite hear her since the dryer was still running. I held the dryer in my right hand with my arm crooked upward while giving her an expectant gaze, as if to ask what she had said.

Her huge, toned right hand enveloping my much smaller, thinner one, Heather used her thumb to switch off the dryer. At the same time, she clasped her equally-huge left hand under my chin and firmly gripped my lower jaw. Using her grip as leverage, she curtly yanked my head up and back so that my nervous eyes would lock onto hers.

"I said, 'Are you done'?" Heather repeated herself. She leaned down a little so that her face loomed closer to mine.

"Mhmphhh… mhmphh… mhh," I whimpered nervously into my thick gag as the dominant woman ruling over me looked down at my face with an intense, mischievous glare in order to warn me that if I did something like that again, I would be in serious trouble. Indeed, I was in some serious trouble at that very moment regardless.

Smiling contentedly, Heather said, "Good. Now, why don't we give that thick mane of yours a good brushing. Get it nice and soft." It was not as if I could really respond in any way; nor did I have any choice in the matter. I winced a little at the warm scent of the muscle-woman's breath as I felt her slide the dryer out of my hand and lower it to the floor by its cord. I usually kept my hair brush by the hairdryer between the toilet and the sink. The cruel woman holding me, however, made no move to get it.

"And, lucky for you, I have the perfect brush for hair such as yours," Heather said as she began to pull me by her grip of my lower jaw toward her room. Her grip of me tightened a bit which squeezed my throat in a way that I really did not care for.

"Mphh… ghmphh," I whimpered into my gag and brought my hands up to Heather's huge, left one gripping my lower jaw and the front of my neck. Heather didn't acknowledge my attempted struggles at all. I made a few more gurgling whimpers in the back of my throat as I was forced into Heather's room once again.

I was stopped in front of her bureau for the second time that morning so that Heather could get a wooden hairbrush from the top of it. Although sizeable, it was dwarfed by the large, strong hand that held it. The brush was machined from one piece of wood which flowed smoothly from handle to head. The handle was thick and about four inches [10 cm] long which the wide, oval-shaped head added another six inches [15 cm] to the overall length. The fact that the wood was unpolished, and merely sanded smooth, made the thing look more menacing for some reason.

"See? Perfect, isn't it? I bought for when I had long hair like yours, but it's gone to waste these past few years. Now, I can use it on you. So, stay still for me. I will be doing this part myself," Heather said as she released my lower jaw and slid her hand slowly around the left side of my neck so she could take some of my now-dry hair in her long, strong fingers.

As Heather began to brush my hair, I massaged my sore neck for a few moments to relieve some of the choking feeling I had experienced. Then, I nervously clasped and squeezed my hands near my stomach, for I didn't know what else to do with them. The dominant muscle-woman grooming me, which was creepy enough in and of itself, leaned down every so often and breathed deeply through her nose. The thought of her enjoying the smell of my hair sent shivers down my spine and maintained the feelings of nervousness that raced through my body.

It did not take long for Heather to brush the predominant part of my thick, blonde mane into the soft, voluminous state it had acquired thanks to my mother's neglect. After that, the dominant muscle-woman brushed out my long bangs which hung around my face and always made me feel girly when I first brushed them in the morning.

"There we go. All nice and soft," Heather said approvingly in a low voice as she set her huge brush down onto the bureau's top. I didn't like her talking about my hair like that, and I especially didn't like how she ran her fingers through it once she set the brush down.

"Mph… nmph," I produced a couple of faint, protesting whimpers into the thick, muzzling mask over my mouth and shook my head a little to rid myself of her touch.

That was a big mistake on my part, for, as soon as I moved my head, Heather snatched a rough bunch of my hair in her big left hand and yanked my head back. Immediately, I felt my eyes water with tears as sharp, warm pain spread through my scalp. I instinctively tried to move my hands up to the awful source of irritation at my head, but Heather reached around me and grabbed my upper left arm in with an unkind, pinching grip so that her hearty arm barred my torso and trapped my arms.

"What? You don't like me touching your hair?" Heather practically growled as she leaned down so that she could put her mouth near my left ear. "And I thought I was being so nice to you, too."

"Mphh… m-hm-hmphh… mmhh," I whimpered in pain into the sock crammed into my mouth as pain continued to rush through my head. I did a brief dance of irritation for it was the only thing I could do.

"I don't have to be nice, you know. I can always be a little meaner," Heather continued in a low, throaty voice and gave a cruel, curt yank of my hair to emphasize her words.

"Mph..m-hmphh… m-hm-hmphh," came a couple of barely-audible, sobbing whimpers as a response.

"How about it? Do you want me to be mean? You like it, don't you?" Heather said in an almost teasing manner and gave another rude yank of my hair again. I sobbed into my gag and felt warm tears run down my cheeks as the sharp pain was intense. I was really stressed as well given that Heather had me securely trapped within her awful embrace. The fact that I couldn't do anything about the pain was horrible.

Watching my reactions and my attempts to plead for mercy, Heather relished the moment thoroughly. She slowly eased the severity of her grip of my hair until she wasn't holding it at all. The relief that flooded me was indescribable, and a few tired sobs escaped me as the mean muscle-woman stroked my hair back into place with her fingers.

"Shhh, it's okay. I'll be nice again for a little while," Heather cooed behind me as she petted my hair. "Although," she continued while looking over my left shoulder, "You're little friend down there is telling me quite a different story." She practically whispered those last words and planted a soft, sensual kiss on my upper left cheek which glistened with tears.

Oh, great. My small, rock-hard cock was throbbing with desire again and was jutting stiffly into the tight material of the speedo. Heather, I guessed, had looked at the small tent being formed down there and had misread my reaction to her mistreatment of me once again. I tried to squirm within her tight, once-armed grasp of me, but it was to no avail.

"Be still," Heather commanded which was exactly what I did not want to do, especially as her big, left hand moved around my waist until the pads of her fingers touched the rounded tip of the tent in my speedo. I felt my heart thudding heavily in my chest, and I heard breaths straining through my nostrils in great rapidity when Heather touched me down there. Immediately, my little cock throbbed with an intensity I had never felt before. It twitched in time with my heartbeat and told me that it felt so good that, with a little more teasing, it would be close to cumming.

The rest of my body was telling me quite a different story. Fear made me feel cold inside as the cruel, dominant muscle-woman violated me yet again. Although, that was different than when I was in the chair in the kitchen. Heather put her foot on my crotch to keep me in place, not to stimulate me in any way. What she did to me in the bedroom was just the opposite. She wanted to tease me for, I guessed, it fulfilled another of her sick fantasies. It was bad enough that she so enjoyed grabbing my mouth. On top of that, she had to violate me like that as well.

Seconds seemed like minutes as Heather teased the head of my fabric-covered cock with her fingers. I tried to struggle; I really did, but her grip of me, even with just her one arm and hand, was so tight that I could barely move. I was so disoriented by her touch that it took me a couple of minutes to realize that I had to scream, or at least try.

"Mmphh… nmphh… m-hm-hmphh," I tried to moan, but the thick gag in and over my mouth prevented me from making any noise.

"Shhhh, be quiet," Heather whispered into my left ear, and the feel of her warm breath on my lobe sent a shudder of revulsion down my spine.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! "Heather! Hey, you in there?" came a sudden loud series of knocks on Heather's bedroom door. My mom! She was right outside the door and would probably hear me if I could just moan loud enough.

"Mm-gmphhh… mph… mm," I began to moan as loud as I could, but, quick as lightning, Heather shot her big, violating left hand up and roughly grabbed by gagged, packed mouth. Squeezing my mouth really, really tightly, she pulled my head and body back into her as she instinctively straightened up in surprise. Her grip of my torso took the wind out of me, and her grip of my mouth and lower face was awful. My tape-covered cheeks and lips were squeezed so much that they ached warmly. The upper portion of Heather's broad, tough left palm squashed my nose painfully down and rendered me almost completely breathless. To make matters worse, her hearty thumb mashed down onto the bridge of my nose and pressed into my eyes which rendered me sightless as well. Hopelessly silent and held within a living trap of female flesh, I tried with all of my might to struggle and make my presence known, but to no avail.

"Heather?" came another screeching, demanding cat-call from my mom in an almost sing-song voice. She was clearly intoxicated even though it was still morning.

"Yeah, I'm in here. I'm just moving some stuff around. I'll be out in a minute," Heather replied after clearing her throat and composing herself. Leaning down a little so that her lips were close to my right ear, she said, "Don't you dare make a sound." I could only produce a barely-audible, gurgling whimper in response. I was really scared at that point, for Heather hadn't held me that tightly since she first grabbed me in the tent at the fair.

"Heather, baby, I thought you were going to come hang out with us. You don't have to drink… we understand that. But, I mean, you're welcome to come out and talk. Ya know, get some quality girl time in," my mom whined through the door, and I so desperately wanted to get her attention, even if she was drunk. The problem was that I was being held so tightly, especially my face, that I began to feel light-headed. I barely registered the smell of Heather's warm hand after about a minute of being held, for I could feel myself becoming woozy from a lack of oxygen.

"I'm coming, hon. I'll be out in a sec. Just let me change my shorts," Heather called back to my mom, and that seemed to satisfy the drunken floozy.

"Ooh, wish I could see that," I heard her mumble to herself wishfully as she walked away from the door and back to her friends who were, presumably, still outside. I hoped that they wouldn't leave for the hospital too soon, because, if they were at the house, there was a greater chance of Heather not playing with me as much given the fact that one of them could walk in on her and surprise her again.

Breathing with a sigh of relief, Heather said, "Wooh, that was a close one." Leaning down a little, she said, "And you were such a good boy too, staying quiet for me like that. It's too bad I have to let you go. We'll just have to continue this later, won't we?"

I barely registered what she was saying, for I was really in need of air at that point. I moaned weakly into the horrible hand holding my gagged mouth and, as it released me, I moaned in relief into my gag. "Mmmphhhhh… .mmphhhhhh….mhhh," I moaned quietly as I breathed deeply in order to refill my burning lungs. I hung myself forward a little in order to get away from Heather as much as possible, but her overly-tight armbar prevented me from doing so.

"Hnh, hnh, hnn," Heather giggled cruelly, "You're face looks so cute when it's all red like that. A cute, red, gagged face is what I like to see." I continued to breathe deeply for a moment and moan in helpless defeat into my thick mask of a gag.

"Now, if I let you go, do you think you can behave? I'll even let you wear some normal shorts," Heather said after another moment of holding me.

"Mphh… mhmphh… mmhh," I moaned weakly again into my gag. I desperately wanted to get away from Heather, even if it was for a short while. I took what I could get at that point.

"Okay," Heather said and smacked a hearty kiss onto my left temple before releasing her one-armed grip of my torso. I felt every muscle aching in my stomach, for it had been so tense during the time that I had been held, violated, and kept quiet when my mom knocked.

The dominant muscle-woman made quick, painful work of taking the tape off of my mouth. I hated the stinging sensation as the glue from the tape pulled on my sensitive skin and lips. I fought back tears as the last of the tape was pulled off of my mouth before Heather reached up with her right hand and pulled her nasty, used sock out of my mouth. I was commanded to walk in front of Heather to the closet where she put her sock back into her laundry basket.

Once she closed the closet door, Heather took my face in her right hand. Her palm was under my chin while her strong fingers and thumb gripped my cheeks. She tilted my head back and forced my nervous, shimmering eyes to meet hers. Stooping, bringing her face inches from mine, she said, "Remember, you make sure you behave yourself. I don't want to hear one word or sound from you. If I do, I'll just have to punish you all the more once mommy leaves," Heather said and, to my disgusted horror, brought her face forward and stuck out her long, slimy, pink tongue. I squinched up my face in revulsion as she ran her flattened tongue up my face from my chin to the bridge of my nose.

Struggling in her grip of my face, I let out a brief squeal of disgust. Heather let me go easily and, eyes still squinched shut, I blindly turned and quickly felt my way into the bathroom. I heard the door shut behind me, and I felt a wave of nausea pass through my stomach as my hands found the edge of the porcelain sink. I quickly turned on the water and, although it was cold, splashed some onto my face before taking way too much handsoap and slathering it all over my skin. I couldn't believe she did that to me! That was utterly disgusting.

Toweling my face off, I suddenly felt fully awake for some reason. I wasn't tired anymore, although my mind was a racing blur of stress-induced thoughts and feelings. It was nice to have my cheeks devoid of tears, but, even though my face was clean, I could still feel where Heather had licked me. The feel of her moist, warm, silky tongue returned to me over and over again as another form of phantom feeling.

Standing in the bathroom and looking into my room through the door, I felt a blankness come over me. I didn't know what to do. I mean, I was obviously going to change into some underwear and shorts, but, then what? If I tried to make another run for it, Denise or some other female cop would probably grab me again and bring me back here. So, what would I do at the house? Would I just do things I normally did while waiting around for Heather to grab me again?

I continued to weigh my options as I dumbly wandered into my room and changed into some shorts. I took my shoes off too and changed my socks which had become slightly sweaty and clingy. My small cock throbbed at the feel of free, fresh air, but I quickly forced it into underwear and shorts so that I could feel a sense of normalcy. Thinking again about what to do, I considered trying to talk to my mom or something. I remembered Heather's warning, however, and, also, I had a sense that my mouth wouldn't be free for nearly as long as I thought.