Tales Of Peril

Ashley Matthesen was the best CIA analyst in the business. She had been the only one to figure out the scheme of terrorist mastermind Apu Nazzer: he had brainwashed Rick Brady, a member of Seal Team Seven! If it hadn’t been for Ashley’s determination, Brady might have completed his mission of blowing up the Superbowl Halftime show. But the crafty spy had uncovered the operation, seduced Brady into revealing his role, turned him back into an American hero and saved the highlight of the National Sport. Now she was on her way to meet Sol, her boss, and receive a secret commendation; her work was so undercover, the public would never know what she had done.

As she headed for the safe house, she never imagined how bitter Apu Nazzer would be. So she wasn’t looking for the van that sped thru a stop sign and smashed her car. The last thing she remembered was thinking she could use a little time off before her next adventure. The first thing she thought of when she came to was that the next adventure might be her last… she was being gagged by Apu Nazzer himself!

Cali Logan had come out of nowhere to become the biggest star on the Food Channel. And what was her specialty? Irish cooking! Who in the world truly likes Irish food? I don’t even think the Irish really like the stuff, they just want to make the tourists feel they’re going to see a leprechaun or something.

I knew why little miss Logan was so popular—sex appeal. It was those flimsy little tops and frilly dresses and tight jeans… whatever she put on, she just popped on the screen. And her voice was so flirty and inviting. I was so jealous at being replaced as the sweetheart of the airwaves, I just had to do something.

So I laid the groundwork for a way to get her off the air for good. I had a friend get me several doses of those “” pills you can slip into a drink, and dosed all the water bottles for her set. I turned up the heat in the studio, so she and the crew were just guzzling the stuff, and hid in the walk-in fridge until the drugs did the job. One by one, the staff staggered off until the producer told them to take half an hour. When only Cali was left in the kitchen, I made my move.

I locked the door to the set and propped a chair against it for good measure. By this time, Cali was slumped down in her chair, dead to the world. Soon, she’d be literally dead! I tied her feet and legs, pulled her arms behind her back and lashed them together. I ripped the dress off her shoulders, leaving her nude to the waist. The little whore wasn’t wearing a bra and I could see why– I’ve never seen such perfect tits, and mine aren’t bad! Biting my lip in anger, I wrapped coil after coil around her boobs and torso– let her flirt her way out of this!

I got the cooking oil and saturated the counter top with it, all around the microwave, which I filled with ladles and knives and spoons. Setting the timer for 10 minutes would give me time to sneak out the back. Now all that remained was making sure she knew what was going to happen–and recording it for posterity!

I snapped a popper under her nose and she woke up with a start, and began struggling weakly as she realized she was bound. I slapped her across the face and told her just what I thought of her no-talent act, then gagged her with a bandanna when she started to beg for mercy. I explained just what would happen when the microwave timer went on and the sparks that resulted would turn the whole place into an inferno. I laughed as her body writhed in the ropes as the danger she was in set in. If I had just left then, it all would have been perfect.

But no, I had to turn on the camera, so there would be a record for the world to see. I made it out the back door as planned and went to wait in my trailer, counting down the minutes until the explosion. I imagined the panicked struggles of my rival as she watched the timer count down. I now know she was able to get up and hop towards the microwave, her full bosom swaying, her long legs tensed as she tried to keep her balance. About halfway to the device, she tripped and fell. Frantic to get back on her feet, she kicked over a display and the racket alerted one of the guys in the control room to look in the monitor.

He had witnessed the half nude form of America’s sweetheart wriggling to free herself and escape, and after a moment of wide-eyed staring had the presence of mind to switch on the announcer’s mic and call for help. Cali could only watch helplessly as the microwave timer ticked under a minute, but before my plan could finish her off, the Best Boy was able to kick in the door and rush in to pull the plug on the microwave. As soon as the gag was out of her mouth, Cali told everyone who was responsible.

And that’s why I’m on trial today….

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…