Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Steve was away for at least five long, apprehension filled, minutes.  When
I heard the front door of the shed finally open, I glanced up from the bed,
looked down the corridor between the storage shelves, and immediately
realized the man who entered wasn't Steve.  He switched on the bright
halogen lights ambled inside.  I glanced at the camera that still filmed
me; the expression on my face surely reflected my abject horror in
helplessness.

   I stole a glance just over my breasts to see how close the man was.  He
made his way slowly down the corridor between the shelves and appeared to
be in search of something.  When he got to about half-way closer I
recognized him as Scott; a tall, young guy who was an assistant gardener.
My head dropped back silently onto the mattress.  My pulse raced; my heart
pounded; a profound sense of impending dread made me feel cold and
vulnerable.  I discreetly glanced one more time to see he'd found my sun
visor which he put on his head.  The sound of a cell phone rang loudly.

   "Scotty here; what's up?"

   I remained perfectly still and quiet on the bed and listened as the
young gardener mumbled spoke to somebody on his phone.

   "I'm looking in the old shed right now," Scott said.  "No, I can't find
it."

   He mumbled a few other things; the volume of his voice receded as he
headed for the exit.

   I breathed a deep sigh of relief and closed my eyes.  When I opened them
I stared up at the ceiling.  My aimless wandering gaze followed a line
around to the space high above the open door.  "Oh no!" I gasped under my
breath.  It was a security camera and its lens was aimed directly onto me.
It appeared to be as dusty as everything else in the room and I prayed it
was broken.  The sound of the door click nosily open caught my attention.
The lights were still on and I clearly recognized Steve as he approached.

   "Has somebody been here?" Steve asked.  He sounded concerned.

   "Scott!" I replied.

   "Did he see you?"

   "No, but..." I tried to motion for Steve to turn around and look up.

   "What?" Steve appeared puzzled.

   "Up there!" I tried to point with a look of my eyes.  "The security
camera!"

   "Oh, that?  I doubt it works," Steve said.  "There's nothing to see
here; except you!" He laughed and winked.

   "It's not funny!" I replied; a feigned stern look masked my sense of
relief and humor at the situation.  "Can you untie me now?"

   "We've still got about fifteen minutes, Ingrid.  Would you like another
orgasm?"

   My response came almost as a reflex.  "Yes..."

   Steve smiled and crawled like a cuddly bear onto the bed between my
spread legs.  The bristles of his unkempt beard tickled the insides of my
thighs; the touch of his tongue on my clit, breathtaking.  I clenched my
fingers into tight fists and curled back my toes.

   "Oh my god!" I gasped.  "You tongue!"

   "Do you like that, Ingrid?" Steve asked, although I suspected it was
just to make me say *yes* to him.

   "Yes!  Mmm!  Yes!" I replied.

   I felt Steve wriggle his broad shoulders between my parted thighs; a
moment later, he penetrated my ass with a finger he'd moistened in my
pussy. I whimpered softly at the pleasantly perverse sensations of his
finger in my ass and his tongue slavishly slicking my clit.

   "Would you like me to get Scott back here?" Steve asked.

   "No," I mumbled in an uncertain tone of voice.  The young guy and the
way he almost caught me now aroused me.

   "Is he in your thoughts?" Steve asked in a whisper.

   "Yes," I whispered back.

   "What's he doing to you?"

   "He's just watching..." I replied.

   "What would you like him to do?"

   I was too lost in my pleasure to answer quickly; dozens of replies all
competed to be said.  "I'd like to suck his cock while you suck and finger
me..."

   Steve continued to tease and arouse me in silence.  There was nothing
but the sound of his lascivious slurping and sucking and my soft moans
reverberating in the small room.  In my mind I could almost taste Scott's
cock in my mouth; I could easily imagine his face screwed up into a look of
youthful lust as I sucked him enthusiastically.

   I was so lost in a dreamy, perverse reverie that I didn't hear the front
door of the shed open again.

   "Are you in here, Steve?" a voice echoed outside the small room.

   "Oh shit!" Steve immediately crawled back off the bed.  "It's Dead-eye!"

   "Who?" I asked urgently.

   Steve quickly rushed to the head of the bed and used his sharp knife to
cut the rope that held my arms tethered to the bed head.  As he cut the
rope he quickly whispered, "Richard, the security supervisor.  He's got a
lazy eye; we all call him Dead-eye."

   Once the rope was severed, Steve dropped the knife beside me on the bed
and told me to cut myself free.  He rushed out the door and closed it as he
went.  I heard him call back to Richard.  I was too panicked with the task
of freeing myself to clearly hear what was said, but I detected the
conversation was serious.  I cut the ropes that held my ankles spread and
then set about untying the numerous knots that held the rest of the ropes.

   The ropes around my ankles were relatively easy to get off, although I
broke several nails doing so.  The knots of the rope around my wrist were
far more problematic.  I managed to untie most but I couldn't reach the
last two.  I sat there and whined quietly at the frustration.  The door
suddenly opened again and I recoiled in fright.  It was Steve.

   "It's nearly noon, Ingrid.  I have to rush back the lunchroom and take
down your photos before anybody see them," he said; an urgent tone in his
voice.  "Don't go anywhere; there's something important I have to tell
you."

   Steve then disappeared out the door and left me alone, naked, and still
trapped in bondage.

   -=0=

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