Velma wasn’t quite sure how she’d managed to be bound and gagged and thrown in the cellar. One minute she’d been wandering through the musty hallway, the next she was face down on the cool concrete floor. She blinked furiously, eyes adjusting to the dark, and vision blurred without her glasses. She desperately searched for something sharp to free herself, wriggling across the floor with ankles tied tight.
“I wouldn’t do that, bitch.”
Velma’s eyes grew wide as she scanned for the source of the sinister voice. She squirmed again, glancing around in vain.
“Stop moving!” The dark, boding voice demanded. “You move again, and I’ll cut your throat.”
Velma wimpered and stilled.
“Good.” The voice purred. Footsteps, heavy and even approached her suddenly. Raspy, coarse breath surrounded her. Velma shut her eyes tight. The person leaned in close, clutching Velma’s chin in a strong, beefy hand. “You’re gonna like this. I guarentee it.”
Velma concentrated on breathing, blocking out the sensations of foreign, sweaty hands groping her breasts and belly, probing unsuccessfully southwards toward her panties. She shuttered, biting the cloth gag, praying that the mystery molester would have a change of heart. Velma kept her eyes closed, and lie still as she could, waiting for her miracle.
She didn’t notice the footsteps coming fast upon them. She didn’t notice the commotion leading up to the brief struggle which ended with her captor unmasked and revealed to be the crazy old groundskeeper, Crazy Larry. The police arrived, an arrest was made, and the gang collected the meager $15 reward for sol Continue reading
