Trapped by her ex
I should have asked him to give me back the keys to the apartment when we broke up. That was a big mistake. Now he keeps me tightly tied and gagged without escape.
The doorbell chimed, a sharp, metallic sound echoing through the hallway. I looked up from my laptop, the glow of the screen casting a pale light on my face. It was late, and the last thing I expected was company. Sighing, I pushed my chair back and padded over to the door, my red top brushing against the cool wooden floor. Through the peephole, I saw a silhouette that sent a chill down my spine.
It was him, my ex, standing there with a smug grin plastered across his face. The one who swore he'd never come back. The one I hoped had forgotten all about me. The one I had tried to forget. I didn't move, my heart hammering in my chest like a drum. The bell rang again, more insistent this time, and I knew I had to face him. With trembling hands, I unlocked the door and pulled it open, stepping aside as he barged in, his presence filling the room like a dark cloud.
He looked different, somehow. More... dangerous. His eyes gleamed in the dim light as he took in the sight of me in my gray miniskirt and sheer black pantyhose. My legs felt like jelly beneath me, and I leaned against the wall for support, trying to hide the fear that was surely etched into my features. "What do you want?" I managed to croak out, my voice barely a whisper.
He didn't answer, instead striding into the living room and tossing a duffel bag onto the couch. He pulled out a length of rope and a black cloth, and my stomach dropped to the floor. Panic set in, my breath coming in short gasps. Before I could even think of running, he was behind me, his arms wrapping around me like a vice. The rope bit into my wrists as he bound them tightly behind the chair, his grip unforgiving. He use a white scarf to gag me firmly. He moved with a swiftness and confidence that I hadn't seen in him before, as if he'd done this a hundred times.
The cloth came next, pressing against my mouth and nose, smelling faintly of chloroform. I struggled, trying to scream, but the sound was muffled by the gag. My eyes watered, my vision swimming. The room spun, the edges of my consciousness fading to black. The last thing I heard was the click of his heels on the floor as he moved away, leaving me tied and helpless, dressed in my favorite outfit that now felt like a prison.
When I came to, I realized I was in the basement, tighly tied to a chair, still gagged with the white scarf. The smell of dust and mildew filled my nostrils, and the cold concrete floor sent shivers up my legs. The only light came from a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting harsh shadows on the cobwebbed walls. The sound of his footsteps echoed down the stairs. He had me trapped in my own house, dressed in the outfit he had always loved, but now it felt like a taunt.
My ex descended the stairs, a smug look on his face as he surveyed his handiwork. His eyes raked over me, lingering on the way my breasts heaved against the fabric of my red top, the hem of my gray miniskirt riding up and exposing more of my thighs. He licked his lips, and I knew what he had in mind. The rage bubbled inside me, but the gag kept any sound from escaping. He leaned in close, his breath hot on my face, and whispered, "You look so pretty like this, all tied up and helpless. Just like I always knew you'd be."
He began to pace the room, his black boots clicking against the floor. "You think you can just throw me away like trash? After everything we had together?" His voice grew louder, more agitated with each word. "You're going to pay for that, darling." His hand reached out and trailed a finger along my cheek.
As he continued his taunts, I worked furiously at the ropes, feeling the fibers bite into my skin. I had to get free. The thought of what he might do to me in this dank, forsaken place was too much to bear. The ropes felt like a living entity, tightening their grip with each desperate pull. But I couldn't give up.
It was him, my ex, standing there with a smug grin plastered across his face. The one who swore he'd never come back. The one I hoped had forgotten all about me. The one I had tried to forget. I didn't move, my heart hammering in my chest like a drum. The bell rang again, more insistent this time, and I knew I had to face him. With trembling hands, I unlocked the door and pulled it open, stepping aside as he barged in, his presence filling the room like a dark cloud.
He looked different, somehow. More... dangerous. His eyes gleamed in the dim light as he took in the sight of me in my gray miniskirt and sheer black pantyhose. My legs felt like jelly beneath me, and I leaned against the wall for support, trying to hide the fear that was surely etched into my features. "What do you want?" I managed to croak out, my voice barely a whisper.
He didn't answer, instead striding into the living room and tossing a duffel bag onto the couch. He pulled out a length of rope and a black cloth, and my stomach dropped to the floor. Panic set in, my breath coming in short gasps. Before I could even think of running, he was behind me, his arms wrapping around me like a vice. The rope bit into my wrists as he bound them tightly behind the chair, his grip unforgiving. He use a white scarf to gag me firmly. He moved with a swiftness and confidence that I hadn't seen in him before, as if he'd done this a hundred times.
The cloth came next, pressing against my mouth and nose, smelling faintly of chloroform. I struggled, trying to scream, but the sound was muffled by the gag. My eyes watered, my vision swimming. The room spun, the edges of my consciousness fading to black. The last thing I heard was the click of his heels on the floor as he moved away, leaving me tied and helpless, dressed in my favorite outfit that now felt like a prison.
When I came to, I realized I was in the basement, tighly tied to a chair, still gagged with the white scarf. The smell of dust and mildew filled my nostrils, and the cold concrete floor sent shivers up my legs. The only light came from a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting harsh shadows on the cobwebbed walls. The sound of his footsteps echoed down the stairs. He had me trapped in my own house, dressed in the outfit he had always loved, but now it felt like a taunt.
My ex descended the stairs, a smug look on his face as he surveyed his handiwork. His eyes raked over me, lingering on the way my breasts heaved against the fabric of my red top, the hem of my gray miniskirt riding up and exposing more of my thighs. He licked his lips, and I knew what he had in mind. The rage bubbled inside me, but the gag kept any sound from escaping. He leaned in close, his breath hot on my face, and whispered, "You look so pretty like this, all tied up and helpless. Just like I always knew you'd be."
He began to pace the room, his black boots clicking against the floor. "You think you can just throw me away like trash? After everything we had together?" His voice grew louder, more agitated with each word. "You're going to pay for that, darling." His hand reached out and trailed a finger along my cheek.
As he continued his taunts, I worked furiously at the ropes, feeling the fibers bite into my skin. I had to get free. The thought of what he might do to me in this dank, forsaken place was too much to bear. The ropes felt like a living entity, tightening their grip with each desperate pull. But I couldn't give up.
Bonus
Here is the last part of the academy of ladies.
You can see the first part here.
