Bound for Camping Fun

The RV hummed down the highway. Taffy and I sat across from one another in that cozy breakfast booth, unable to communicate much beyond the desperate looks in our eyes.

Out the tinted windows, dozens of cars rode parallel to us, or passed us. I sat disbelieving: couldn't anyone see 2 bound and distressed kidnapped women?

Our captors had evidently taken a shine to us. The cruel one, Dirk, had made Taffy his personal plaything. She reminded him of a favorite TV personality, and he tormented her with a nickname: "Weather Girl."

I had been taken under the wing of Rod, whom I thought had been a Ron or Rob. He would paw me from behind, molding and squeezing my large breasts, hot breath on my neck, nibbles and kisses on my ears. His hands were everywhere: my legs, my ass, my bound arms and of course my torso. His efforts had the unsurprising effect of my nipples growing hard and my pussy gaping and watering.

For the moment, we were sat quietly in our booth, Rob across the aisle from us with his phone, and Dirk steering the rig.

"Hey," Dirk called back. "Are you getting hungry?"

I had wondered about this. We had been allowed one trip each to the tiny bathroom. One of the captors watched, then roughly wiped at us and readjusted our clothes. Neither of us had eaten since last night (the promised omelet breakfast sure hadn't materialized). I was feeling the effects of no food and an adrenaline overdose.

"Yeah," Rod called back. "Let's pull into the diner a few miles up the road."

Minutes later, the RV was set in the back of a large parking lot, far from the restaurant. It was clear that the men were going in, to sit for an hour and talk about their so-called fishing trip. we were being secured in the camper.

I was their first order of business. Together they dragged me up out of the booth. I twisted and flexed helplessly as i was carried to the bedroom in the rear of the RV.

Rod held me fast as his partner Dirk cut the tape from my ankles and knees. He unbuttoned my Khaki shorts and shucked them from me. "Leave her in the panties," Rod suggested. "I like the look."

Dirk began retaping my ankles. After a wind and a half, he ran out of the tape. Thank Gawd! I thought. But then he opened a small cabinet revealing dozens of rolls of the accursed stuff, in several colors. He leered up at me: "Sorry Dolly, it's just not your day."

My ankles and knees taped tightly, they undid my hands enough to pull the flannel shirt and sleeveless T-Shirt from me. I was topless and naked save for my nylon panties. They retaped my wrists.

A new item appeared, a kind of leather sack with looping straps. Starting at my bound hands, they worked this single sleeve up my arms, securing straps over my shoulders. Now there was no way of getting my poor arms loose!

The gag was removed, I was given a small mouthful of water. Then women's panties were shaken in front of me, then stuffed into my very unwilling mouth. Wipe strips of tape went over my lips and cheeks. I was dumped onto to the large bed to flop around like a newly handed swordfish.

Candy was then muscled into the room, and similarly untied, stripped and retied. She seemed to lose none of her fighting spirit, bucking and shoving into the men. In return, they just treated her more roughly. I mewed behind my gag, wishing I could beg her to stop battling them. They made more of a show of the gagging, waiving 2 pairs of small panties and telling Candy she was going to take them both. They roughly packed her mouth, her cheeks swollen like a chipmunk's as they finished the awful chore with strips of the wide tape.

Now they had very long belts, with grommeted holes running the entire length. Together they nested my form to the front of Candy's, my back to her front. They pulled the belts tightly, strapping us together like spoons in storage. Her chin brushed my head, her breasts on my back. More belts lashed our legs together. We were well and truly tied to each other.

"All right weather girl" the brute said. "We're having lunch. All you get is a mouthful of some other girls' panties. Don't struggle too much, you'll only end up wearing yourselves out. We'll be about an hour." They pulled down all window blinds and shut the door behind them. We could feel the RV rock as they made their way out. Then it was still and silent.

We lay on our right sides, virtually welded to one another in that spoons position. I felt candy working her taped writs behind her, twisting and struggling to get loose. I pushed and tried to separate my legs, hoping to break the embrace of several ply plastic tape. It was no use.

I glanced around the bedroom to make a new discovery. The deviates had large images of women in varying states of bondage. Some photos shared the RV background I had come to know so well. There was an array of blondes, brunettes, and redheads with arms behind them, or trussed overhead. There were gags: bright red ball gags, blue ones, a green one. Some girls' mouths were trapped behind what seemed like a horses' bit. Tape had been used, wrapped around the head or plastered on in large unmoving squares such as Candy and I wore. There was an especially haunting image of a naked woman, wrists tied to a tree branch above, her ankles staked wide to the ground. She was gagged and blindfolded, and huge plastic clips hung from her large tits.

My mind drifted. At first, I was running through any options, any possibility of getting free. Then I was thinking of staging a break at that aforementioned mining colony. Surely there would be one moment when no one's hands were on us, when I could break free and run. Though so far, the two brutes had kept us both well in check and there was no such opportunity. And, i know I was getting weak from the struggling and from the lack of decent nutrition.

So far away with my own thoughts, I had not noticed that Candy's struggling efforts had taken on a new tack. Her hips were grinding behind me. The men had fitted my sleeved arms up against her, my forearms on a level with her pantied crotch.

Now her face was rubbing gently against my head of brunette hair. She was growing warm behind me, and her lower half was rubbing tentatively against my arms.

Oh great, i thought. She's every bit the horny wench these miners are waiting for. I glanced around, confronted by these images of women in peril. Was that part of the turn on for Candy? I almost couldn't blame her if our closeness fanned her flames of desire, but were these dirty pictures part of her arousal?

Strangely, I was aware of my own vagina starting to gape and water. My nipples stood stiff and out of reach. What could I do? I could be angry at the situation, but in such close proximity to my friend, that didn't seem fair or productive to either of us.

What the hell, I mentally shrugged. One of us should get off.

I worked my shoulders and arms fractionally, adding my efforts to rubbing Candy's most sensitive area. She responded with a groan and a sigh, which I took to be gratitude. Indeed, now her face was rubbing more aggressively on my head of hair.

We struggled to find the right tempo, trying to gauge the piston-ing of her hips against my sleeved forearms. Should I press gently, or more persistently? I knew that consistency was the key and timed my efforts accordingly. My own pussy throbbed for the same attention with which I was rewarding Candy! I didn't have enough freedom to even rub my pebbly nipples on the bedding. I was truly denied and frustrated.

Together we ground on one another. If my hands were free, I wondered, would I be bold enough to slip a finger between my gal's folds? Would I jam 3 fingers up and work her pussy and clit hungrily, like a testosterone driven teenage boy? Unlike a horned-up teenager, we seemed to be working the long game, grinding and her gasping. I tried to rub my own thighs together, to give me some relief, but I was lashed too tightly to get any movement.

By now we were both sweating and driven. I was flushed and perspiring, my damned pussy weeping openly, soaking my tiny panties. And the straight line between my crotch and nipples was open for business - they were aching for a touch of any kind. Damn these captors! If I had a free hand or could turn and rub a breast against Candy's damp face.

She was close now, and we rocked in a consistent rhythm. Taffy stiffened and cried out, her entire body rocked and consumed by the long-denied orgasm. Gagged, she took in huge breaths through her nostrils and I could feel her panting on my bare shoulders as she rode the orgasm from its highest peak down to a more tolerable level.

I lay as still as I could, not wanting to distract from her pleasure. My pleasure, of course, was well out of hand and denied.

Behind me, I detected Taffy softly crying. I resolved not to join her. I was so horny now, so frustrated, but I would not break my resolve.

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