that the three most beautiful girls in your town -- a redheaded dancer,
a brunette business exec, and a blonde college co-ed -- all disappeared.
imagine no longer because that is exactly what happens in "The
Keeper," the internationally treasured masterpiece by the legendary
bondage bestseller Geoffrey Merrick.
no one thinks twice about the quiet house on the nice suburban street,
but inside poor Melissa, Dana, and Barb struggle to escape from
skin-squeezing lingerie, mouth-cramming gags, and flesh-crawling bonds
before “the Keeper” and his evil, sadistic mother do whatever they
want to them…!
the abductions, all the desperation, all the suspense, all the close
calls, and all the juicy ironies Merrick is famous for are here, as well
as his treasure trove of binds, gags, and torment devices –in ten,
count ‘em, ten pud-pounding chapters … nearly 60,000 words of
stimulating damsel-in-distress action!
illustrated by the inspired artist known as Deuce in a full one hundred
and seventy-four (174!) brilliant, intense, full color works of comic
art, this amazing edition of “The Keeper” emerges as perhaps the
greatest bondage tale ever told. A true classic and must have for any
Dinner occurred without incident. Good old ma—apparently she realized he needed uninterrupted sustenance as well...although he couldn't tell how much oyster juice was in the seafood casserole. She headed to the back room as he adjourned to his room.
He stopped by the front room closet. Unable to resist, he took a peak inside. Barb was no longer standing. She was hogtied on her side with tight black straps, blindfolded with a padded, buckled strap, and had a huge prod gag deep inside her mouth. She was motionless, breathing easily, apparently unconscious.
Looking quickly toward the dining room, he slid inside the closet with her, silently sliding the door closed behind him.
In the dark and claustrophobic space, he found the heady feeling of secrecy and possession nearly overwhelming. Exulting in the sensation, he masturbated over her twice in rapid succession, splashing cum on her head and chest. She did not react at all, and even that was exciting.
Breathing heavily he hurriedly left the closet, closing the door quietly behind him. He moved as fast as he could upstairs. Sure, he knew his mother would see the cum eventually, but for now it was fun to pretend that he had snuck a cookie, as it were, and had gotten away with it.
He tried to be cool entering his room, but the first place he looked was the closed door of his big, walk-in closet. Images flew by his mind's eye, so he decided to cut them off by marching directly over and sliding open the door.
Sure enough, Melissa was there, wearing only a virginal white lace garter belt, matching hose, five inch white highheels, a half-cup bra, and fingerless white lace gloves which reached to her smooth upper arms. Her fiery strawberry red hair fanned out from a face stuffed with a huge red ball gag, and her fiery red-painted fingernails clawed at the closet ceiling as she hung, spread-eagled with wire-reinforced cord.
Her green eyes widened at the sight of his leering face and erection. Then he was inside and on her, his hands filled with her tight ass cheeks. Within a nanosecond his cock head had spread her vaginal lips and was surging all the way inside her. She screamed, babbling into the ball gag, then—as his log and one arm lifted her up—his other hand clawed into her red hair, dragging her whinnying, then sobbing, head back.
Then, as he embraced her, his mouth falling onto her left tit like a closing bear trap, he grabbed a drug-soaked handtowel from the top of the narrow bureau behind her and plopped it over her babbling, crying mouth.
She stiffened in mid-air ... as the sickly sweet smell invaded her mind. "No!" she cried to herself. "No, not again!" But then her green eyes grew clouded, her strength was gone and she felt his cum crawling through her like a parasite....
"There there," he said, retying her wrists with white tape. "There there." A stitched leather beanbag was stuffed in her mouth and more white tape went over that—from nostrils to chin, and from ear to ear. "There there." He stood her up and drew her over toward the bed by her tiny waist and cupped breast. She walked like an exhausted pony trying its legs for the first time.
He dropped her on the bed on her back and crawled atop her. "Finally," he breathed, his breath thick on her face. "Alone again." He pinched a pink nipple, the other hand finding her firm ass cheek. "Just you and me, dearest...the man you never looked at and the sweetest, happiest, liveliest little dancer...." He began to grind her tit in one hand while fingering her anus with the forefinger of the other....
"Goodnight dearest," he whispered wickedly. "Sleep tight." And then she was in darkness....
Downstairs, his mother looked up from her sewing. Only glancing at the front room closet, she then looked toward the kitchen where, behind the cellar door and down the stairs, Dana was secured to the mattress. Her throat and one ankle was attached to the floor rings while her other leg was doubled, its ankle strapped and taped to its thigh. Her micromini slit suit skirt was back on, just barely covering the crotch rope which was deep between her vaginal lips and anchored on her fine hip bones.
Above her waist, he suit jacket was missing, but the nipple clamps were still in place. Her arms were behind her, in the small of her back, strapped and taped at the wrists, forearms and elbows. The rubber bandage gag was replaced by a black ballgag, reinforced by a drug-soddened sheet, tied so tightly around her head and under her hair it looked like tape.
The old woman shook her head, then turned toward the television, picking up the remote. Switching to channel 91, she saw what the infrared remote camera in her son's room saw. Looking down at the bed, there was the redhead, one leg straight out, the other bent, seemingly trying to propel herself off the man's form.
As her eyes bulged, her hair wild, her breasts thrusting toward the lens secreted in the ceiling, the old woman could tell that her son had found a new place to keep his manhood warm.
The old woman picked up her sewing again and went back to the sweater, accompanied by the sweet sounds of a comely teenage redhead in lovely white lace lingerie screaming repeatedly into a mouth-sealing gag.
OF THE MOST SUCCESSFUL MERRICK'S NOVELS EVER
ILLUSTRATED FOR THE FIRST TIME!