Roommate Surprise

The first thing she noticed was a huge TV mounted on the wall opposite the bed. In the corner was a studio-grade, tripod-mounted camera. It was powered off and pointed toward a wall. 'Geez,' Marsha thought. 'Connie is really into this stuff.'

Marsha emptied the first drawer onto the bed and leisurely pawed through the stuff. The first item of interest was the ball gag. She slipped it over her head, under her luxurious hair, and around her neck, keeping it from her lips for the time being. She picked up the huge strapon dildo next. It took two hands to wield comfortably. She figured she probably wouldn't want that inside her. She opened her jaw wide and pushed the tip of the thing past her lips.

She flashed on an image of a real cock pushing right down her throat. That startled her, and she pulled it out. The image faded. She introspected for a moment on how suggestable she seemed to be and how her mind seemed to automatically flow in some direction directed by the external stimulus of Connie's sex toys. Frequent orgasms had rendered her highly suggestable.

Marsha felt courage flow through her. Confident she had the whole day, she sorted systematically through the other things, looking at each one and deciding what it was for. She tried out the image identification app on her phone and was surprised to see the software came up with a name for most of it, even suggesting sites where stuff could be purchased. She followed several of the links. She found sites that sold these items and tons of other fetish gear. Marsha had a peripheral notion that these things existed but had never explored them for herself. One of her searches had a pop-up ad for a site for bondage videos.

She was about to click on the link when her laptop alerted her to a low battery. Marsha padded naked back to her room to retrieve her power cord. She caught sight of herself in a mirror. The ball gag around her neck sent a rush of guilty pleasure down her spine. Looking for an outlet in Connie's room, she found one built into the footboard of the bed. She noticed a video input plug right next to the power socket with a cord dangling ready.

She plugged it into the video output on her laptop, and the big-screen TV woke up, displaying a copy of her laptop. 'Oh, I get it. Connie, you little slut!' Marsha clicked on the video site. The main page had the normal age verification step, then opened to a teaser page with links to a few very short bondage videos. She tried several, but they were too short to be exciting. Each one ended with a prompt to pay for full access. Her interest piqued, and she clicked through, letting autofill provide her credit card number.

The first video she watched showed a large black gal strapped to a wall. Some white guy poked and prodded the gal, molesting her fat tits and rubbing her between the legs. The actress grunted and squirmed, seemingly enjoying the attention. When it was over, a page was presented with perhaps a dozen offered videos. They all seemed to be based on an upright actress attached to walls, doorways, and strange frames. The top bar had a pulldown for other categories. She found one labeled 'Reclining Alone'.

The first one she tried showed a model or actress outside on a lawn. Her legs and arms were pulled wide to stake stakes in the ground. She was shown just lying there alone. Birds were chirping. Dogs barked in the distance. The video stopped. She had been masturbating, but the video ended too quickly to get her off. She clicked on another 'Reclining Alone' video. Now a busty brunette was on her back on a hotel bed. Her arms and legs were secured to the corners of the bed. Again alone, she lay quietly, undisturbed. Not exciting. She noticed a button at the corner labeled 'Autoplay'. That sounded better, so she selected it. Marsha clicked another button at the top labeled 'Random Play'. The splayed-out brunette video continued.

Marsha looked down on Connie's bed, trying one last time to visualize herself there. No luck. Now she saw the brunette porn actress, not herself. She placed the ball gag in her mouth, and her imagination complied. She was able to see herself gagged but not bound. That did it. She lay down mid-bed on the vinyl covering, squirming and squeaking at the first cold touch. It still wasn't enough. She saw her own face gagged, but someone else's body strapped down. Her imagination shimmered between Connie and the actress. She now realized she would have to feel the cuffs to be able to imagine them for herself.

Marsha scooted down toward the foot of the bed and slipped the ankle cuffs on. The simple buckles were easy to set. She experimented with the fit, finding one that was both comfortable and secure. Marsha noted the straps were well worn at a buckle position smaller than her own ankles. 'Smaller Connie must wear these a lot.' she thought to herself. She lay back, and sure enough, an image of her own ankles in bondage formed. It was strange, though, for she still couldn't shake the thought of Connie's wrists in the cuffs. She relented, reaching over to the dangling leather cuffs. They were on ropes just long enough to reach together at the center of the headboard. They were up and out of her visual field, but having just played with the ankle cuffs, she could set the wrist cuffs by feel. It all felt safe because the ropes had enough play that she could bring her hands together and let herself loose at any time. Her head settled onto a padded, contoured cradle.

Marsha smiled inwardly and moaned softly as her imagination now filled in the complete details. She could clasp her hands together above her head, but the ropes were nowhere near long enough to masturbate. She lay there for a few minutes, enjoying the soft bondage and letting her mind wander, thinking how she would never be able to masturbate in true bondage. That seemed like the whole point of the thing. Or one of the points, at least. She looked at the playing video. It still showed a long, static view of the splayed-out actress just laying there. Kinda boring, really. Maybe that would appeal to some men.

The video faded and was randomly switched to a different theme. Now a woman was bound face-down to the front grill of a beat-up old pickup. The truck was parked somewhere out in the woods. Two naked men showed up in the frame. They were both skinny, redneck-looking guys with greasy hair, ugly tattoos, and crooked teeth. Neither looked like he had showered or shaved in weeks. As they approached the bound girl, she struggled against her bonds.

Marsha watched the poorly shot video. The rednecks groped the bound girl. She screamed for help, but they were out in the boondocks. No help arrived. Marsha contemplated for a moment that maybe this wasn't a staged video. The loud scream seemed real. Maybe she should have turned the volume off before she settled in. Or at least down a little. The woman's screams were unpleasantly loud, and she spit profanity at the men. The speakers mounted just above the headboard were pointed directly at her. After a bit, her nose itched. As she went to scratch it, she realized the leads were not quite long enough to reach. She thought maybe she could pull out a bit of slack. The ropes simply vanished into smooth holes in the headboard. Maybe there was more rope on the other side of that hole. Perhaps a sharp tug, and they would extend a bit. She gave the right one a bit of slack and jerked hard. The rope went taught with a loud "thwup!"

Marsh heard a loud click, and a small motor under the bed started up. She realized the leads attached to her wrists were slowly reeling in. She frantically tried to bring her hands together to unbuckle the cuffs. Too late. Her fingers touched each other and were then dragged apart. Her hands could no longer reach each other. The rope leads kept reeling in until each cuff met its rounded headboard hole. She heard the reel motor strain a bit, then shut off. Immediately after that, another motor started up. The two ropes to which her ankles were attached also started to winch up. Marsha panicked. She struggled frantically, screaming into the gag as loud as she could, as if that would do any good. Arranged in a vee, the ropes retracted all the way, reeling her ankles up and pulling them apart, the winch stronger than her flesh and blood, stopping only when the ankle cuffs were pulled tight against the upper corners of the headboard. Both her pairs of wrists and ankles were now pinned wide to the headboard with no slack whatsoever. Her precious pussy was laid bare and exposed. Marsha screamed again into the red plastic ball between her teeth, pulling wildly at her bonds.

Marsha struggled for a good half a minute while that trapped feeling settled into the pit of her stomach. Her mind raced, 'Foolish idiot! What was I thinking!'? She pulled against the cuffs as hard as she could. Nothing, not even a creak. The padded cuffs held tight without cutting into her skin. The bedframe was obviously stronger than she was. She was fucked.

Marsha relaxed for a moment to take stock of her situation. Here she was, naked and strapped, spread obscenely on her roommate's bed. Defenseless! Gagged, as well. She couldn't call out for help. What could she possibly say to any would-be rescuer, anyway? Whoever showed up could well take advantage of her. Besides, she had double-checked the doors to make sure they were locked. No one would hear her. No one would find her. She was definitely fucked.

Marsha tugged several more times on the restraints, biting down onto the ball to focus her will, pulling as hard as she could, hoping something would give. She shouted profanities as loud as she could, but they only sounded like crude gurgling. When she gave up, she was sweating and breathing hard from exertion and fear. Marsha looked around the room for something--anything that might give her hope. The only thing she saw was the video. Now the two rednecks had progressed to raping their captive. One of them was stand-up fucking her from behind. She screamed some insults at him, and he slapped her hard. A cut opened up in her lip and began to bleed. The video was obviously not staged. The girl was an actual victim.

Defeated, she lay back, and her head settled easily onto the comfortable cradle. She realized the cradle kept her eyes trained somewhere in the middle between her own reflection in the mirror above and the huge TV playing bondage porn. She could focus on either by shifting her gaze. Marsha gazed at herself, realizing her lurid fantasy had come true. She didn't have to fantasize about it anymore. She was actually restrained in a sexually exposed position. Any man could fuck her without resistance. Any number of men could fuck her, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to see Connie in this position. Compromised. Defenseless. No such luck. Now all she could visualize was her own predicament, her own image as reflected in the mirror.

Thinking of Connie, she opened her eyes again to take in the live, concrete image in the mirror. What would she say to her roommate when she found her like this? Well, nothing, actually. She was gagged into silence. Thinking of excuses didn't make any sense. Exactly what excuse would fly, anyway?

It was inevitable that Connie would find her like this. Hopefully, her roommate will be good-natured about this intrusion into her privacy. The leather cuffs had shown signs of regular use. Connie herself must have been spending time like this. Surely she would understand. Whatever Connie decided, there was nothing Marsha would be able to do about it. Defenseless. That was the third time she had mentally traced that word. Marsha persevered on that word for a bit, repeating it and digesting its implications.

Defenseless, like that poor girl getting raped in the video. When Connie got home, Marsha would be completely at her mercy. No begging. No pleading. No escape. No evasion.

Defenseless. Connie owned all this bizarre equipment. She probably knew exactly what to do with each piece. Lord knows, some of it might cause pain. Lots of pain. Crap!

Defenseless. Tomorrow they both had the day off. No one was expecting Marsha to be anywhere. Connie could keep her like this for the next day and a half. Shit. Shit. Shit! She had to figure out a plan, some means of escape, something.

Even though she knew better, Marsha pulled on her restraints one more time. She knew she was trapped. Fuck! She didn't know exactly what time it was, but she guessed it was going to be some five more hours before her rescue. Or discovery, more likely. She was in the middle of accepting her loss when she realized something. Her nose still itched. Damn!

That was when she processed the first stage of loss. Denial. She must be dreaming. This couldn't be real. She just had to be dreaming or something. All she had to do was wake up. Any time now. Just roll it over and snap out of it. Hmmm, her nose itched. It's definitely not a dream.

Marsha processed the next four stages of loss in a compact amount of time.

Anger. Why hadn't Connie been honest with her? This was all her fault. Those friendly interactions at the gym had been a trap. A honey pot. And she had fallen for it.

Bargaining. When Connie arrived, she would barter for her release. She must have had something Connie wanted. Marsha realized that whatever Connie wanted, she could take it without paying for it or even asking for it. Marsha held no cards.

Depression. This sucked! How could she be so stupid? That was my life recently. Just one bad decision after another. Maybe I deserve this. Stupid cunt.

Acceptance. It was out of her power to change anything at the moment. Whatever happened would take its own course. Surely Connie would be cool with it. Someday, Marsha would look back on all this and laugh. The wrist and ankle cuffs were well padded and did not hurt. Her hips and lower back may get tired after a while, but she was a strong and flexible athlete. She was sure she could take it. Everything would work out.

Marsha pulled on her bonds gently enough to wiggle back and forth a bit, settling in and finding what comfort she could. She realized that, although her arms and legs were bound, she could still move her hips. She lifted her pelvis up and down several times and saw it for what it was: humping. She couldn't move much, but she could energetically fuck back if someone decided to use her. That someone could well be Mike. He had his own key. He always went straight to Connie's room, ready to fuck.

Marsha couldn't see a clock and figured she still had four or five hours to wait. She judged the light at the window. No, more like six hours to go. The cradle holding her head kept her gaze focused on either her naked body or the video entertainment. She could lift her head and look to the side, but not for long. As soon as she relaxed, her head settled into the straight-ahead view. She closed her eyes a few times, trying to think of something else. The image in her mind matched what she had just seen. Marsha visualized her own body in the predicament of the woman getting raped. When she opened her eyes, the translation was complete. She now saw herself inserted in place of the video victim, getting raped on the grill of a truck.

She tried to shift focus by looking up to stare at her own reflected image. Her gaze moved in a circuit from face to tits to cunt, back to her face. Marsha was so embarrassed that it was unsettling to stare into her own eyes, so for a while she tried looking at nothing else but her reflected pussy. But the video action was too distracting.

So for the next few hours, she watched endless degrading bondage porn with the volume turned unpleasantly high. Video after video auto-played. The content randomly varied from boring consensual soft porn to hard-core rape scenes that were obviously filmed unscripted, the penetrations real, the women given no choice, and some enduring significant pain. In every single one, she translated herself into the position of the victim. When she dozed off for short periods, the audio track ensured she dreamt of obscene things that someone could do to her pussy that she couldn't evade or escape.

Marsha had completely lost track of time, floating in and out of consciousness, when she heard the garage door open, then close, a car door shut, and the back door into the kitchen open and shut. Marsha heard footsteps moving around the house, a wine cork pop, and Connie's laughter. Thank God it was Connie, not Mike. Marsha heard footsteps coming down the hall. This was it; Connie was going to freak out. Marsha was getting kicked out of the house, for sure. She had left the bedroom door wide open.

"Well, well, what have we here? Wow, that was faster than I thought." Connie stood at the doorway. She had a glass of white wine in one hand and Marsha's discarded clothes in the other. She took a sip of wine, savored the taste, and swallowed triumphantly. She looked up at the video playing. This one had five big black men gang banging a small white girl that looked a lot like Connie. Four men held her spread while each one took turns inside her. All three holes were repeatedly violated. The poor little white girl did not look happy about her predicament. The men looked happy and entertained.

Connie said, "I had no idea you were into this kind of shit. What a fuck slut!" She set her glass down on the bedside table and dropped Marsha's clothes on the floor, stripped of her own.

Connie flipped on a wall switch that turned on four strips of LEDs mounted around the edge of the ceiling-mounted mirror. The bed was bathed in bright studio-grade white light. She turned the tripod-mounted camera toward the bed to record everything and turned it on.

Connie found the pornographic sound track distracting and didn't want it to be part of the permanent record. She dug out a pair of earbuds and inserted them into her own ears. She futzed with the Bluetooth controls on Marsha's laptop until they were connected, and the room speakers muted. Then she turned the volume down so she could still hear anything spoken in the room. Connie inserted the tiny buds into Mardsha's ears so she would continue listening to the porn videos as well as watching them. Connie set the laptop on the dresser, just below the wall-mounted TV. From the point of view of the camera, Marsha was quietly captured in full bondage, but the camera recorded nothing of the video entertainment.

"First things first," Connie remarked as she climbed onto the bed. "You are probably needing this right about now." She laid down with her face above Marsha's pussy and began to lick without hesitation. Marsha twitched several times, and her motions became sexual humps.

Satisfied with Marsha's sexual responses, Connie left the room for a moment and came back with Marsha's phone. She forced open Marsha's right hand enough to push her finger against the fingerprint reader. Once open, Connie disabled all of the security features so she could do as she wanted with her roommate's phone. Marsha's phone was as exposed and vulnerable as her body. Calling up the camera app, Connie took twenty or thirty pictures from different angles. She crawled onto the bed, taking some close-ups of Marsha's cunt, her nipples, and her lips stretched around the ball gag. She got in close for a few selfies as well, making it clear and identifiable who was behind the lens.

At one point, Connie paused to finish her glass of wine. She got off the bed and fiddled with a couple of switches on the footboard. The ropes around Marsha's wrists extended about a foot, giving her a bit of room to move. The ropes holding Marsha's ankles reeled in reverse. The vee-configured ropes pulled her feet down towards the foot of the bed, lower and closer together. Connie flipped the switch to stop when the ankle cuffs were about a foot apart. She pushed a large cylindrical bolster under Marsha's knees to support their weight in a comfortable bent position, her feet about a foot apart and a foot off the bed.