Inside her skirt

Aug 3

“Grab some rope,” Vicky shouted. “Lets tie her hands together behind her back!”

Ellie passed her a length of rope and Vicky used it to bind the poor woman’s wrists together. She stood up to admire her work.
wrists bound together
“Now get out of that, bitch,” she hissed as watch Chantelle struggle desperately on the floor.

Chantelle managed to wriggle on to her back as Vicky stood above her, one foot either side of her chest.

“You looking up my skirt?” Vicky snapped.

Vicky was twenty-one, had a full curvy figure and had a tanned sexy look. She had long blonde hair and brown eyes. She was attractive and she knew it. She had dropped out of school early and had worked unsuccessfully at a number of jobs. She and her friends were notorious in the neighborhood and were frequently in trouble with the police.

Her next door neighbor couldn’t have been more different. Chantelle was hard working, studious and had almost completed her law degree and university. Chantelle was slim with long dark hair.

The women had known each other since they were young. Vicky hated Chantelle mainly because of her success but also because of her slightly posh and condescending nature.

Chantelle didn’t so much hate Vicky as she feared her. Vicky had picked on her and intimidated her for years.

It was summer and Chantelle had returned from university. She was lying in her back garden wearing blue cotton shorts and T-shirt, reading a book. Vicky looked over the fence and heckled.

“Nice legs Channy.”

As usual, Chantelle ignored her. Two minutes later Vicky had climbed over the fence and walked towards her neighbour.

“What do you want Victoria?” Chantelle demanded.

“Hey relax love,” she replied. “I just wanted to know if you wanted to come round for a drink. Come on let’s forget the usual hostilities.”

Chantelle followed Vicky back over the fence. She watched Vicky as she easily climbed over. She was wearing a blue denim skirt that came down to just above her knees, a white top and sandals. She was jealous of Vicky’s physique but certainly of nothing else. She scrambled after her and followed Vicky into her lounge.

As soon as Chantelle entered the room, Vicky pushed her on to the floor and immediately sat down on top of her back. Chantelle struggled but was no match for Vicky. Vicky’s sister Ellie came over to join in the fun.

“Grab some rope,” Vicky shouted. “Lets tie her hands together behind her back!”

Ellie passed her a length of rope and Vicky used it to bind the poor woman’s wrists together. She stood up to admire her work.

“Now get out of that, bitch,” she hissed as watch Chantelle struggle desperately on the floor.

Chantelle managed to wriggle on to her back as Vicky stood above her, one foot either side of her chest.

“You looking up my skirt?” Vicky snapped.

“No, Victoria please let me go,” Chantelle pleaded as she tried to avert her eyes.

“I think she was,” Ellie encouraged.

“I think the bitch should take a closer look,” Vicky hissed to her sister.

With that, Vicky sat down on the floor in front of Chantelle with her legs wide open. Chantelle who was now lying on her front could not see at anything apart from the woman’s crotch. There was panic in her eyes as Vicky edged herself closer so that Chantelle’s head was almost inside Vicky’s skirt.
inside her skirt
In front of her were Vicky’s black knickers and either side of her were her tanned thighs that seemed ominously large and powerful from where she was lying.

Vicky then turned on to her side and adjusted her prey until her head had passed between her thighs from the front to the back so that her face was now resting up against the bottom of her arse.
face against pussy
Once Chantelle was in position, Vicky closed her thighs, locking her victim in place.

“The safe is now closed,” Vicky joked. “And it is locked with a time delay.”

Without the use of her arms, Chantelle struggled but knew she was no match for Vicky’s toned thighs.

“I hope you have no plans for this evening, because I think you should stay in there until tomorrow morning,” Vicky laughed.

Ellie then passed her a padlock, which she threaded through two of the belt loops that for decoration were arranged alone the bottom of her skirt. Once the padlock was closed, the skirt was locked so tightly around Vicky’s thighs, and Chantelle’s neck that there was absolutely no way that she could open her thighs and therefore, absolutely no way that Chantelle could free her head.

Vicky and Ellie started laughing as they watched Chantelle struggle desperately to get her head out from between Vicky’s thighs. The denim cage around Chantelle’s head moved as she fought to free herself but stayed tightly closed. Ellie started to tickle her which only added to the desperate movements from inside.

“I think that proves that there is no way out,” Vicky observed as Chantelle lay still and tried to catch her breath.

Inside everything was very dark. Vicky’s thighs which she had never taken much notice of before now seemed huge when viewed at such close quarters. They circled her neck and gripped her from every angle. Her attempts to get free had only managed to work her up into a sweat. Vicky’s effort to maintain her vice like grip and keep her still had caused her legs to sweat also. Chantelle was now enclosed by sweaty thighs which only increased her feelings of claustrophobia.

In addition to the fact that the denim skirt and padlock meant that Vicky’s thighs could not be opened to release their prey, Chantelle soon realised that Vicky’s legs were way more powerful than her own bound body. Their sudden, powerful and unrelenting force immediately stopped any of her attempts at movement. At whim, Vicky’s would squeeze her legs together and half strangle her prey. Chantelle soon began to obey.

To make Chantelle’s predicament worse, the fact that Vicky’s skirt was short meant that her face was forced up against Vicky’s arse. Her mouth was just clear of the knicker-clad backside but from her mouth upwards, all of Chantelle’s features were engulfed. If Vicky’s thighs were the method of restraint Vicky’s arse was definitely the instrument of torture. Chantelle’s face was effectively locked to it with no chance of getting away. At will, Vicky could tense her arse, squeezing Chantelle’s nose in between her cheeks – or of course, she could use the ultimate weapon of breaking wind right into Chantelle’s face.

Vicky’s black silk knickers fitted her perfectly and hugged her pert arse. However the material now also hugged Chantelle’s face. The struggling had made the material tacky and it now stuck to both its charges, Vicky’s arse and Chantelle’s face.

“I’m going to keep you there until the morning,” Vicky purred. “You will go to sleep in my arse and wake up in my arse. I wonder what you’ll dream about tonight,” she laughed.

“Oh please Victoria,” came the muffled plead from inside the skirt. Her pleading only drew more laughter from the sisters.

“Once I’m done with you,” Vicky purred, “you’ll have nightmares about my arse for the rest of your life. You’ll wake up screaming, thinking you’re still in there, still between my thighs.”

It was true, Chantelle couldn’t think of anything apart from her current predicament. She could hardly remember her life, her study, her friends. That all seemed impossibly far away.

——————————————————————————–

Two hours and half a bottle of wine later, Vicky had fallen asleep, Chantelle started to struggle to free her wrists. After half an hour, and with her wrists already deeply cut by the rope she managed to wriggle one out. She reached up to try and undo the skirt from around Vicky’s waist. There was no chance, Vicky had used a second padlock to lock two of the belt hoops together at the top as well and she just knew the keys would be well out of reach.

She reached down to her jeans pocket and took out her cell phone. From memory she dialed the number and managed to slip the slim line phone up between the skirt and Vicky’s thighs so that it was inside the skirt.

“Hello?” the voice said.

“Emma, can you hear me?” Chantelle whispered.

“Is that you Chantelle?” Emma asked, “I can barely hear you.”

“I need your help,” Chantelle whispered. “I’m being held captive at Vicky’s place.”

“What!” Emma exclaimed, ” Are you alright?”

“Fine, but I need you to free me,” Chantelle replied.

“Where exactly are you?” Emma asked.

“Inside Vicky’s skirt,” her friend replied.

“What!” she exclaimed.

“She put my head between legs and then padlocked her skirt closed with my head inside.”
head inside skirt
“Yuck” Emma replied. “That is sick.”

“Yes my face is wedged up against her knickers and my neck is locked in the vice-like grip of her thighs,” Chantelle sobbed.

“Look I’m at my parents holiday house right now. If I leave now, I could be back by tomorrow morning,” Emma explained.

“I can’t last until then,” she sobbed.

“Do you want me to call 911?” Emma asked.

“No, I’d rather die than have everyone know about this,” Chantelle replied.

Chantelle hung up knowing she was there until the morning. She guessed it was now probably midnight, which meant 7 or 8 hours inside. Chantelle drifted in and out of sleep for a while.

——————————————————————————–

After a while and careful not to wake her host, Chantelle started to explore her surroundings. She ran her hands up Vicky’s legs to just above the knee where the skirt started. The shape of her thighs Chantelle was already well acquainted with. Although Chantelle disliked Vicky, particularly now, she had to admit that she had fantastic legs. They were fit, strong, tanned and smooth. Vicky really could be a model with her figure.

Vicky’s thighs gripped her firmly, but not overly tightly, around her neck. Her smooth skin actually started to feel good around her. The more she thought about it, the more Vicky’s grip around her neck felt comforting. She knew there was no way she could hope to escape, but that only added to her feeling of security and pleasure. It was a cold evening, but Vicky’s thighs kept her warm and safe wrapped inside the material of the skirt.

Her face was still buried in Vicky’s arse but that too started to seem less offensive than before. She had become accustomed to Vicky’s scent and that no longer seemed unusual or a problem. The soft feel of the silk felt nice against her face. Her arse was shapely and pert at the same time. There was enough flesh for it to mould around Chantelle’s features and yet pert and muscled enough to hold those features firmly in place. The skirt also added to her feeling of warmth and security.

Chantelle gave Vicky a small kiss on her knickers deep in her crotch. Vicky’s body involuntarily tensed for a moment or two. Her thighs gripped Chantelle’s neck even more snuggly and her arse tightened to grip Chantelle’s nose which was by now buried deeply inside. Chantelle smiled to herself and kissed again. Chantelle would certainly remember this night for a long time to come, but certainly not as a nightmare.

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