Tonight was supposed to be a special night - Annabelle was all dressed up for it, in her wine-colored velvet dress overlaid with lace, her Cuban stockings, and high heels. It was just getting toward the time she wanted to make her appearance - fashionably late - when she thought she heard something in the garage. She had just decided it must have been her imagination and was getting ready to head back inside when a big man steps out of nowhere and grabs her by the throat, shoving her into a stool and gripping her small wrists with one meaty . He fishes out some rope and starts wrapping it around her wrists while she protests, "Stop! What are you doing?!" He ignores her completely and tightens the rope, eliciting an "Ow!" from poor Annabelle. "Does that hurt?" he asks in mock sympathy. "It'll hurt more before I get done with you." Bewildered, she ask again, "What are you doing?" "I thought that was obvious - keeping you out of the way for a while." Annabelle's eyes grow wide with fear, and she's practically paralyzed while he moves around her and looms over her, tying another rope around the beam on the wall. He grabs her bound hands and hauls them high above her head, tying them off to the beam. Annabelle kicks and squirms, but it doesn't seem to faze Ivan at all. It just draws his attention to her sexy stockinged legs, which are practically begging for rope.
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