Story By MadMax, Photography by TucsonTied
Savannah had just stopped at a bar on the way home from work, and he was cute, not at all creepy. She never suspected that he had doctored her drink and had no memory of staggering out to his car with him. But now she was wide awake and re-thinking the creepy versus cute.
She was laid out on the bed in a room she’d never seen before, and felt with horror the ropes that tightly bound her wrists behind her, and the ones that encircled her full figure above and below her substantial bust. The creep had pulled her jacket open, ripped off her blouse and removed her bra; she felt exposed and helpless.
She wriggled and squirmed to the edge of the bed, managing eventually to wobble to her feet, trying hard to keep her balance.
She could hear the shower running-—he must be in there, getting ready to do whatever perverted plans led a guy to bind and gag a girl against her will. Taking little hops, she cautiously made her way out of the bedroom. Emerging into the main room of the small house, she looked in vain for a phone, or something sharp she could use to cut herself free.
Even better—the front door was open! Savannah saw that she had to get her feet free, so she sat down on a stool and begin to wriggle her ankles up and down. It seemed an eternity, but at last she succeeded. Savannah backed up to the screen door and managed to get it open, only to gasp a bit as she emerged onto the porch. As far as the eye could see was marshy swamp, the breeze blowing the cattails. There was only the faint hint of a road, but when she heard her captor yell “Hey, where did you go?” she took off running.
She hadn’t gone far before the “road” took a sharp turn, and her momentum carried her a few steps into the swamp. With each step, her feet plunged a bit deeper into the squishy muck; and by the time she stopped herself she was knee deep.
“Dammit” she thought as she tried to turn and re-trace her steps-—but she went nowhere. The mud was too thick and viscous, and her efforts just caused her to sink to mid-thigh. “What the hell?” Frankie murmured into her gag. Fighting to turn back to face the road, she finally succeeded, at the cost of driving her legs deeper, the sticky mud just barely short of her crotch. And there he was, leering at her. Fully dressed, too, so she realized he had never been in the shower, he had only run the water to entice her to make a break for it.
Her cries for help just came out as muffled groans, her shoulders working as she struggled to find any slack in the rope that bound her. Her tormentor threw a thick strand of rope that fell just in front of her. “If you can find a way to reach that, I’ll pull you out and set you free” he chortled. “If not, I’ll just watch the show”. The ooze was covering her belly button… was there any way to get to safety?
Savannah felt the guy’s eyes all over her, lusting after her, as the soft quicksand slowly sucked her deeper. The ropes binding her had thrown her chest into high relief, and now that the deadly ooze was up just under her bosom she could see his body respond as she heaved and squirmed to get just one hand free… she felt her right hand working free of the ropes, could she get it out in time?
The soft wetness was cold on her nipples as she sank a bit deeper, the swampy ooze supporting her breasts. As her hand got free, she wondered— would he keep his promise and release her? Why would he risk letting her go to the cops? Maybe she was better off if he thought she was doomed?
Maybe she was doomed– the quicksand had finally swallowed her bosom and now lapped around her neck. The rope he had thrown out to her was slowly sinking as well. Savannah had to decide quickly– should she reveal her free hand and trust him to save her? Or sink below the surface and hold her breath until he left…