What Comes Up, Must Go Down! A Dilara Dee Quickee (MM/F)

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Damsel-Dilara-Dee
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What Comes Up, Must Go Down! A Dilara Dee Quickee (MM/F)

Post by Damsel-Dilara-Dee »

As she pulled up to the address given to her by the casting agent, Dilara had second thoughts about what kind of job this would be. All the agent over Craigslist said was that this would be a music video shoot, and they needed background dancers and extras. It did not seem like a high production affair, but Dilara needed to pay rent for the month and she’d take any work she could get. Dilara parked her car and got out, walking carefully in her two inch black sparkly heels as she went to the entrance. The building didn’t have any discernible markings save for the address number–14–and the business park’s guideposts did not mark building 14 as anything of note.

The curvy Dilara strutted into the lobby, clad in black pantyhose and a gold sequined miniskirt. She wore a tight leather mock neck top, and her lips were painted in a bright red lipstick. Dilara tucked her long curly black hair behind her ears and went up to the elevator. She buzzed the button to no avail, and waited a few seconds before trying again. The lobby was empty, silent only for a whirring AC and some static. Dilara wiped beads of sweat off her forehead, getting impatient about the elevator. She saw two men exit a service door in the lobby and approach the elevator. She tried to press the button again when they walked up to her, coming up on both sides of where she stood. The man to her right–a fifty-something, tall, stocky man with tan skin and arm tattoos wearing a gray tank top–took out a service key and inserted it into a slot below the button, turning it counterclockwise before hitting the button.

“That’s the only way this thing works!” he chuckled, putting the key away in the pockets of his black cargo shorts. The man to the left of Dilara nodded along. He was a pale man, shorter but muscular and lean. His hair was slicked back, and he wore dusty blue jeans and a black T-shirt. He carried a duffle bag on one shoulder. In a moment, the elevator arrived and the doors opened. Tank Top motioned to Dilara to enter the elevator. “After you” he smiled. Dilara walked on, and the two men followed. The elevator wall had nearly 40 floor buttons to choose from.

“I’m not sure where I’m going… I’m headed to the video shoot?”

“Oh we’re going there too” replied T-Shirt, before unsheathing a key of his own and entering it into the elevator. He picked an unmarked button three from the top, and removed his key once pressed. The elevator began to chug its way up, producing rickety sounds. Dilara glanced at Tank Top and T-Shirt, who stood in front of and behind her respectively. All of a sudden, the elevator slowed to a halt. Dilara tried to press the button again, and then again, but it would not light up. She tapped T-Shirt on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, would you please insert the key again?”

T-Shirt turned around and looked at Dilara with a grin. Fear began to fill her as she wondered what was happening.

“We’re right where you need to be” T-Shirt said as he nodded to Tank Top. In a flash, Dilara felt Tank Top grab her arms and yank them behind her back, crossing them wrist over wrist. T-Shirt opened his bag and pulled out a roll of gray PVC tape and handed it to Tank, who with one hand grabbed it while keeping Dilara’s wrists pinned with the other.

“Help! Help”’ Dilara yelled as Tank began to tightly tape her wrists together, going round and round countless times. T-Shirt got another roll out and unspooled it about a foot before shoving part of the tape between Dilara’s lips. He then began to wrap around Dilara’s head, doing a few wraps with the tape between her lips before then covering the lower half of her face entirely. “Mmph, gmph!” she plead into the gag, her cries getting fainter as her gag intensified.

“No one’s gonna help you, bitch!” Tank taunted as he began to wrap tape around Dilara’s waist, pinning her forearms to her torso. After T-Shirt was done Dilara’s mouth was taped shut, the brutal gag warping her face. “Grmph hurmph mmph” she whimpered, grunting and coughing into her gag. Her pronounced nose was shifted to one side, and her eyes began to droop from the gag.

T-Shirt went down as Tank went up, continuing to tape her up. T-Shirt wrapped more tape around her lower body–taping her legs together at the thighs right under her miniskirt, and then below the knees, and finally around her ankles. Simultaneously, Tank continued to tape her upper body, pinning her arms to her chest and taping above and below her D-cup breasts. They tagged teamed her into submission, and in only a few minutes Dilara was trussed in silver tape and immobile.

“Hhmph! Mmmmph!” She yelped with all her might, but it was no use. Pleased with his handiwork, T-Shirt produced the key and inserted it into the elevator, pressing the button again. “We’re going to a shoot alright, but you’re the star of our hot video!”

Tank, now holding her from behind, whispered into her ear. “You’re gonna put on a show for us...” he said as he held Dilara around the waist with one arm, manhandling her and groping her tits with the other.

They reached their destination and Dilara knew that whatever lay beyond the doors would be trouble. “GMPH HHMPH NRMPH!!”
Last edited by Damsel-Dilara-Dee 1 year ago, edited 1 time in total.
Caesar73
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Post by Caesar73 »

Good introduction, that sets the stage nicely :)
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Damsel-Dilara-Dee
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Post by Damsel-Dilara-Dee »

Caesar73 wrote: 1 year ago Good introduction, that sets the stage nicely :)
Thank you! That is the whole story, just a "quickie" - whatever happens next is up to your imagination! ;)
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captured_prize
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Post by captured_prize »

It really leaves a lot to the imagination. Oh, the possibilities!
Just your average crossdressing damsel in distress...

Check out my story here: https://tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?f=9&t=20583
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