The Captive
By Kelly
The gag didn’t hurt, exactly. But it held my face in ways that were strange to me. Sweat was rolling down my forehead, onto my breasts and beading on my nipples as they were held unnaturally high in a black satin push-up bra. The bra was already soaked. I couldn’t recall where the rest of my clothes were. I’d managed to retain my black silk panties and my too-high heels—I suppose he liked how I looked in them.
My bathroom was unusually large, by any standards. It was brilliantly white, and Spartan. The only softness I could sense was in the big white towels. I could only imagine their softness. I longed to dry the sweat from myself with one but that pleasure was denied me.
If I stayed up on my toes with my face pressed against the bathroom door I could almost forget about the heavy leather collar locked around my neck. The handcuffs were another matter. He had cuffed my hands behind me, back to back, and I stupidly tried to twist my wrists against the steel. He had added a strap that ran from the links on the cuffs to the back of my collar. As long as I held my wrists in the middle of my back I could spare my self the pressure against my throat.
Looking back on it now I realize that a unusual wave of sexual excitement passed through me for the first time. It intensified a few moments later when I managed to turn my head past the chain that ran from the collar to the heavy silver hook near the top of the door. I wasn’t ready for what I saw in the mirror.
The red hared woman I saw looked a lot like me, except she was trussed and humiliated—teetering against a bathroom door in nothing but her underwear, her buttocks gleaming under the hot lights. She was beautiful and sexy and stunned.
My first reaction was terror. But it was diluted by the purely sexual image reflected in that polished glass. My transformation was at the hands of a stranger: forceful and insensitive to the fear he produced in me. I had tried stamping on the floor but my position was such that I couldn’t gain much leverage without straining my neck. I gave up trying to attract anyone’s attention. I can admit now that I was perversely curious about what was going to happen next. I was attracted to him. His willingness and ability to take control held my thoughts more inescapably than my bonds.
The gag enraged me. I didn’t know how he had managed to push the large bulb past my teeth, but it was lodged there firmly, pressing my tongue to the back of my throat. The wide leather strap covered my lips entirely. I had tried in vain to dislodge the thing by rubbing the strap against the door while holding my mouth as wide open as possible. All I got for my trouble was an aching jaw and hair in my eyes. I was trying to work my fingers around to get at the clasp that connected the strap to the chain between the cuffs when I heard footsteps outside the door. I heard the handle turn and felt the door press me slowly back toward the wall. I anticipated rescue, but wasn’t entirely disappointed to see my captor’s dark eyes staring into mine. He entered and released the door watching as my body weight caused it to quickly close. He smiled and looked me over.
"You have a nice ass," he said
I was surprised to find myself blushing. I turned my face away from him in shame. I was feeling a little light-headed and more than a little scared. "I came back to check on you," he said. "It’s not often that I have a pretty thing like you captive in my bedroom."
I turned my head to look at him. I wanted to see if the look in his eyes matched the steel in his voice. It did. He reached up and unhooked the chain on my collar from the hook on the door.
"This isn’t a good place to talk."
I couldn’t believe he was doing this to me—leading me by a damn chain into my bedroom! I was getting angry now. The sheer arrogance of this man was too much to comprehend. I was dizzy with anger and fear and curiosity. Was he going to hurt me? If so, how badly?
I realize now that I had only myself to blame. I knew I shouldn’t have let a stranger into my apartment even if he said he was here to fix the water. He had walked in on me as I was just getting ready to go out. He came up behind me, threw me across his huge bed and had me handcuffed before I could say anything. He also enjoyed pulling off my clothes while holding my face into the bed so I couldn’t scream.
Now he stood over me as I sat on the edge of the bed with a kitchen knife in his hand. Without a word he reached roughly behind my neck and undid the buckle that held that nasty gag in place. The bulb popped out from behind my teeth with a wet plop. I was further humiliated as a stream of saliva dripped onto my right breast. I was sure I was going to die of embarrassment!
I pleaded "let me go now and I won’t tell anyone". I smiled a pleading smile. I stopped smiling. He smiled a wicked smile. I knew what he had in mind and begged him to be gentle with me. I told him that I’d had only two relationships in my whole life and to please get it over with quickly.
He laughed, I mean he really laughed, his eyes got teary he laughed so hard. He said something that I didn’t understand then, but have since come to understand all too well.
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Revised: February, 2003