Kidnapped
Keywords: Kidnapped,
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"(Authoress Note: All disclaimers regarding characters, age appropriateness etc are in effect. I hope some of you enjoy this and I am working on another piece with a current working title, "A Yankee in the Bronx." But it will be awhile before I publish. Thanks!)"
*
"I'm a cunt Sir," the words come out of my mouth and echo harshly against the cement block walls.
"Whose cunt are you bitch?" my black captor says with a grimace. His face only inches away from mine as his spittle sprays against my face and mixes with my tears.
"I am your cunt," stammering as I try to please him. I've already spent two days confined with this trainer and I am beginning to respond as his animal.
My hands are extended over my head with my wrists cuffed and a rope looped through a steel circle which connects the cuffs. The rope runs upward, toward the ceiling, loops over a pole and disappears behind my head. I know it is tied somewhere since the tautness strains my arms and pulls at my feet making me stand tippy toe. My right ankle still has an ace bandage wrapped around it from the sprain I suffered two days earlier.
"And, what does a cunt do?" he asks as his hot breath enflames my face. In his breath is the smell of a male predator
"Anything her Owner wants," I answer hoping I've gotten it right.
I am wearing a pink non-wired bra with matching embroidered panties. I have a black garter belt that holds my pink thigh high stockings up with six hanging straps. In my years of looking at Victoria Secrets I have never seen even the smuttiest girl ever dressed in this mixture of color. My ass is so sore from the spanking I received just moments ago it exudes a heat that brandishes my brain cells with a constant reminder of his hand spanking me. Fifty hard smacks, twenty-five on each cheek, the paddle sounded its deep tone as it crashed on my butt. With each whack the sound I felt the blows of my menacing percussionist. I had started crying before his paddle landed the thirteenth blow. And, I hadn't stopped crying yet.
He was recording my sounds and videoing my agony. I felt as if I was starring in a bad Roman Polanski film.
Over my burning bum is the short dark red skirt part of the dress which runs up over my bra and ties around my neck. A gold neck collar and two gold looped earrings almost complete this outfit.
I have make-up on but not as you would expect. And yesterday I my hair was curled according to his desires. As a man my hair was moderately long. As a woman my hair now looks like some cute short curly doo you'd see worn by an effervescent Tuesday Weld .
The spanking I received was for not, as he said, "properly sucking (his) cum with your pussy from my cock into your cunt as bitch is suppose to."
What could I have done wrong? I don't know but his cum is now leaking into the padded area of my panties. It is running out of my ass and down my crack puddling in the patch of cotton lining that my balls are resting on.
His cum against my most private parts, as I stand, no not stand since although I am in black five inch high heeled shoes I am held just high enough so my heels can't rest on the floor. Instead they graze the floor as a false hope relief is near.
"Anything, right, anything," he continues as more of his mouth spits wetness on mine from our nearness.
His testosterone overpowers the perfume I'm wearing.
Just two days ago I was a normal man. I had just turned 30 and was enjoying my run on the country road by the house I had rented in Southampton. What a twist of fate. As I turned a corner, the road went downhill towards the turn and then started uphill immediately after the turn. My right foot landed in that pool of water and my sneaker filled with water. I hadn't seen the puddle which was left over from a light rain last night. It was easy to miss. My sneaker slipped on something in the puddle and my right foot slid too quickly and losing my balance I slipped and fell ass down on my coccyx. I was stunned and in excruciating pain when this white van pulled up.
"Please let me go," I begged.
Smack, his hand lands right against my face. Open handed and stinging his five fingers nearly slapped me silly with a single blow.
"Yes owner, anything you want," I cried as my voice for freedom fell silent and my voice of submission uttered obedience.
A man, nearly half a foot taller then I am, got out of the van and asked, "Hey fella, are you ok?"
"I think I may have sprained my foot and I fell pretty hard," I replied with a grimace.
"Where do you live," he asked?
He knelt down beside me and put his large hand over my ankle and slightly moved it.
"Ow," I said as the pain surged.
"I think it could be broken," he said. " I could get you into the back of my van and drive you to the hospital or home whichever if you would like me too."
I couldn't move so I said I only lived about three miles down the road. I ran five miles everyday while I was out here. The fresh September air filling my lungs with rich oxygen the run had become a must for me.
"Well, I think perhaps the hospital would be a good choice since it's almost just as close. In case you need a cast or something," he helpfully said.
I tried to get up but couldn't so I said the hospital sounded fine. He opened the door to the back of his van and then picked me up in his arms and lay me on a mattress in the back of his van.
It wasn't that difficult for him to lift me since I weigh about 140 and I am around 5' 7". He must have been around 6' 2" and over two hundred pounds.
"So bitch, if I wanted to throat fuck you, you'd be obliging," he harshly asked?
"What is a throat fuck Owner?" I asked more as a hopeful delay then ignorance.
In front of me was a mirror in which I could see this somewhat feminine version of me. He had applied the cosmetics. My eyelashes had been femininely defined and a light pastel green with sparkles adorned my eyelids giving an outline to enhance my natural green eyes. I had shaved myself this morning. My legs were smooth as silk. My armpits were as bare as any woman's and my forearms lightly cropped giving even a more feminine look.
But instead of putting lipstick only on my lips he had smeared it intentionally past my lips. In the mirror I looked like a 'fuck slut' you would see in porno movies.
"SLAP' across my other cheek and then he said, "You damn well know what a throat fuck is and you'd better do it right the first time. You're going to give me a blow job and when I get hard I'm going to push my cock past your tonsils and into your throat. Then I'm going to pump your throat like the vagina it is. When I cum it'll be with my cock buried deep in your throat and my balls resting on your chin," he said finishing the description.
In the back of my head drums were beating his words and forcing me to mentally realize the implication of what he had just said and the reality that would probably follow.
As I lay down on the mattress and tried to get comfortable he reached and got a bottle of water for me.
"The water will help dry your parched throat," he said.
I welcomed the water. It was cool and I realized that my throat had gotten parched. A few minutes later the van was moving and as I lay on the mattress I felt myself begin to drift. Moments later I must have passed out and I didn't awaken until I was in this room. My right ankle was wrapped in an ace bandage and my left ankle was shackled and a long chain connected extended to a steel loop embedded in the wall. I sat up and found I was naked and had been lying in a single bed situated in the corner of the room. From my vantage point I could see a sink at the foot of the bed and an old claw foot bathtub. About six feet from the head of the bed (the bed was against the corner of the room) was a toilet.
Looking at myself I nearly panicked. Someone had shaved my legs. Oh?no?most of my genital hair was missing except for a patch just in the center. Wondering, I lifted my arm, turned my head, and saw my armpits were now naked as well. And, that smell, I knew that smell. I had a girlfriend who wore it. Yes, I smelled like Allure by Chanel. My heart raced and panic creased my forehead with its fear. Panic turned to bewilderment and then after awhile turned to curiosity.
So, I decided I really had to look around. I had to get my bearings. The room was a fairly large square with different pieces of bondage equipment etc. It didn't look like a torture chamber but it didn't look like a Holiday Inn either. Over in the corner past the tub was a Chinese multi paneled screen angled to cut off that corner of the room from my view.
The man I called Owner rolled over what was a modern version of a 'stock'. He had become my owner last night when I signed a contract with him with blood.
As he snapped a leash to my neck collar he said, "Now my little slut, I'm going to lower you down. Make sure your pussy throat fits right where you know it should. If at anytime you hesitated or vacillate you'll get fifty new smacks on your ass. Do you understand girl?
"Yes Owner," I replied.
He walked behind me and I felt the rope begin to slacken and my body lower. Although this contraption was a bit different in its modernity, with a minimalist amount of metal and black fur lining the head piece, it was still a 'stock' after all. My arms opened and my cuffed hands slipped over what would hold my head and came to rest on an L shape connected to the steel vertical bar.
Owner walked around to where I was and untied the rope to my cuffs and with a small piece of metal that wrapped around the pole and sealed off the open end of the L he made my hands locked about waist high. After that he removed my collar.
"Now my little throat fucker I'm going to lower you down and I want you to lay your head in the fur lined collar," he said as he walked behind me again. "Oh and just try to object," he exclaimed! "The fight is as much fun for me as the submission girl."
It was the way he said 'girl' that made me most off guard.
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Keywords: Kidnapped,