The Boxvan

by Spoonbender

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© Copyright 2017 - Spoonbender - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; bond; toys; hum; sex; gangbang; kidnap; reluct/nc; X

(c) 1997 Spoonbender. A short story of an adult nature. Not to be read by minors. If you don't like this sort of stuff or you are underage then don't read. Contains some nc sex and a bit of sexual slavery, but then again most of my stories do. Can be freely distributed as long as it is not changed, including this heading. If it is to archived on a fee paying archive then please email me first for permission.  Please email me with comments, constructive criticism, fantasies you want put into words etc. Don't flame me if you don't like the content or you don't like my style. My address is [email protected]

 

I don't why we did it really. It started innocently enough. Kathy and I were into bondage and stuff. One thing led to another and.....

Listen I'd better tell you the story from the beginning. On one condition though, you must print the story. I want you to help me. I know she's out there. You've got to help me find her. You will? Good. Here goes.

I don't know how we found out that we were both into the master/slave stuff. It started pretty early in our marriage. You know, little things said, thinking aloud, innuendo. We sounded each other out for weeks. It was like a kind of jigsaw. How far is she gonna go with her desires and fetishes. How far was I going to go? We fenced around each other, each of us frightened we were going to put the other one off by being too outrageous, too bizzarre. Kind of fun, kind of scarey.

Kathy was fresh faced. She didn't need makeup that's for sure. Beautiful too, dark hair tumbling over her shoulders like a raven's wing, smokey grey eyes smouldered like victor's fires from beneath her long, dark eyelashes. A slightly wide mouth under a slightly pug nose gave her the girl next door look.  Which is what she was. We grew up together. Never knowing a thing about each other's obsessions. I watched her develop from a gawky, prepubescent teenager to a beautiful and bashful young woman. She was slim, 5 feet 8 inches. Her breasts were a neat handful and her body was audaciously curved.

We started off pretty lightly. We didn't really want to frighten each other. So we started with a few rope tricks, tying her in various positions and states of undress. We warmed to the theme and started adding humiliation. You know trips down the mall in extremely short skirts with no panties, made to wear a dog collar all day at work, that sort of stuff. Our sexlife was amazing. We both used to dash home from work and play until the early hours. 
Dildos came next, vibrators, dongs, pumps. You name it I stuck it in her. At first strictly behind closed doors, then being forced to wear a small dildo to work. Then a vibrator, switched on and chained inside her with a chainmail chastity belt. It was fun. She didn't seem to enjoy it at the time, but afterwards..... Boy did we rock the joint.

Then she really did blow my fuses. She wanted to be fucked by someone else. That nearly did it for me but she worked on me like only a woman can do. I gave in. Besides I was curious. Which man wouldn't be, at least in his mind. Watching your wife get fucked by someone else. In the end it was quite a turn on. We'd rented a room in this really seedy hotel in the industrial part of town. It just seemed to fit somehow. We planned and plotted it for weeks. Then it was the day. We drove there and we pulled into this late night diner. There were a few trucker types there and a wino or two. There were also a couple of workmen, in overalls with the power company insignia on the back. Kathy nodded towards them and gulped. I really believe she was steeling herself up to it, as our collective fantasy here, was for me to force her to have sex with another man. She whispered to me to choose which one. I decided to up the stakes.

Both. I wanted her to fuck them both.  She shook her head, suddenly looking scared. No safeword yet though, so she was still chewing the idea around in her head. She looked down. She'd made a decision, she'd do it, the obedient slavegirl.  It was all so easy. There can't be red blooded guy alive that couldn't leave a half eaten danish and a cup of stewed coffee for a roll in the hay with a beautiful woman. These two were no exception. She was taken to the hotel room and they both fucked her, numerous times. We talked afterwards about the scene. It was incredibly erotic and she enjoyed herself immensely. But it had scared her a little. These guys added a whole new dimension to the situation. They didn't know, or want to know, the safeword. If it all got too much then she had no way of stopping it, she'd just have to grin and bear it.

We were cool for a while then I started to build up the humiliation and pain so she must have known something was coming up. She just hung on for the ride and the view. Finally I worked her up to a fully restrained, spread wide, gagged and blindfolded gangbang.  This time she really was nervous but I had spent weeks planning this so in a way I suppose I would have been pissed if she'd got cold feet. I could sense she wanted to talk about it some more to really get used to the idea in her head before we went ahead. If we went ahead. In a way this was the threshold of something different. We'd had bondage before and sex with bondage. But never to satisfy anyone else's lust. I was so turned on by the idea I just sort of pushed it forward dragging her, mentally kicking and screaming, behind.

Same room. Same seedy Hotel. Same dark and dirty part of town. I could tell she was nervous as we went in. My senses told me she was really not very keen on this. It was too early, but I pretended not to understand. It was stupid really but there you go, we all make mistakes. I whisked her into the room and gagged her before she could say a word. It was one of those leather things you can lock. I pulled on a pair of thickly lined pads to cover her eyes and locked it to the gagmask. Then I stripped her. Now she was fighting, but it could have been sham, we'd played this scene so many times before and she had loved it. Now the stakes were higher, much higher. In fact only I knew how high. She was naked and struggling as I heaved her down on the bed. I turned her on her front and handcuffed her hands behind her. I then turned her over and pulled her legs apart, tying them wide with a rope under the bed. As a final touch I tied her throat to the headboard with her long, silk scarve.

I trawled the diners and bars and assembled the biggest cast of roughnecks and hardmen ever seen outside of a hollywood movie. Nine it worked out to in the end. Nine men she had to satisfy, her muffled screaming turning us on like crazy. I flipped her mind when I charged them for it. Fifty cents a time. I told them that she probably wasn't worth more. They all got their fifty cents worth that night. It was dawn when the party finally broke up. Kathy looked a mess. There couldn't have been an inch of flesh on her which didn't have a thick coating of dried sperm on it. Between her legs it was like a glacier of slow moving ice as the sperm oozed out of her sex. I'd forgotten to bring the condoms, they were still sitting on the kitchen worktop.

We didn't say much for a couple of days. I was freaked out that I'd pushed it too far, too fast. I really enjoyed it though, so I was really solitious to her. Finally she came round, probably after the soreness had gone away, and admitted it was fun in a scarey, tingling sort of way. Slowly, slowly we put together another scenario. She didn't want to be fucked again by a pack of men. It had hurt and she had been publicly humiliated, as well as aroused. Now she just wanted the innuendo. The scene setting and not the act. Spine trembling enough to give her the buzz she craved, we both craved, but not the final denouement.

So it was she was lying on a dirty mattress in the back of a rental van. She was naked and spread eagled and stringently tied. She again wore the mask and gag so she couldn't see the signs but she knew they were there. I'd made her write them herself. I'm a slut, fuck me hard, use me, free cunt - just take it. Big letters on poster sized pieces of card. They were hung all over the inside of the van walls. She couldn't see, she couldn't speak. She could just listen as she heard the signs of the mean street going on around her through the fibreglass sides of the boxvan.

I watched from a distance, close enough to make sure nothing went wrong. I could imagine her there, helpless thinking that just the other side of a few millimeters of fibraglass there were vast numbers of men who could read the signs and take her at her word. Or just take her.

I was mugged.

It was just plain bad luck. They saw my watch. My Rolex Oyster, bought for me on my eighteenth birthday by my father. I wasn't keen to hand it over. There was a brief tussle and I ended up in Hospital with a hairline fracture of the skull. I was frantic with worry for Kathy, so I discharged myself as soon as I could stand up without having dizzy spells. I really had lost track of time and my memory kept drifting in and out. It took two days of driving around before I found the street where I'd left her. I hardly recognised it in the light.

She was gone, so was the van.

I went to the police and they launched a manhunt. They honestly thought they were dealing with a homicide. In the end a lack of resources and no body led them to scale down the enquiry. After a couple of months I think they quietly let it drop. The 'We are doing all we can, no stone is being left unturned' crap told me that they thought I'd made up some sort of tale to cover up for the fact that my very attractive - they'd seen the photographs - wife had run off with some stud or other. Secretly I suspect that they thought that any guy who helplessly tie down a naked woman in a place like that is probably walking round with three bolts short of a Chrysler. At the very least I didn't deserve her back.

I kept looking, but it was hopeless. The van would have had a colour and plate change weeks ago. I could be standing next to it and not recognise it. I hadn't taken much notice of it on the night. Then I got a letter. It was on cheap notepaper, that seemed to have been torn from something, in an envelope with the address and no stamp. I was suprised it got delivered it was so crumpled and grubby. God bless the US Mail service.

It was Kathy.

I was right, they had changed the colour of the van and the plates.

But now my beautiful Kathy had become one of the van's fittings. They had chained her ankle to the inside wall of the van and now it was used as a mobile brothel. They travelled round all the small towns in the deep south getting the rednecks to fuck her for fifty dollars a go. She could hear her kidnappers taking the money and the impatient shouts of a seemingly never ending queue of lusty clients as she lay servicing man after man.

It had taken her weeks to scavenge the material together to be able to write this letter. Furtively tearing pages out of a discarded schoolbook and then finding a grubby envelope on the rare occaisions she was allowed out to clean herself or cook for her captors. She had actually found the pencil inside the van. It was crude and blunt, a carpenters pencil, but it sufficed. The stamp had defeated her, so she had taken a chance and had mailed it anyway. Hoping it would get to me. She was sorry, she said. It nearly wanted to make me cry. She was sorry that things hadn't quite worked out right. She hated this life but she had gotten used to it. They moved on too much for me to be able to catch them up. But please try. She finished. 
If you love me then find me and take me home.

I tried for a long time. I left my job, used up all my money. But they always seemed to be days, if not weeks, ahead of me and they followed a random pattern. So I gave up, which is why I am talking to you now.

Can you pass the message to her captors. Tell them to return her and neither of us will file charges. They can keep the money, it must be running into the tens of thousands of bucks by now. Just let me have her back.

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FOOTNOTE: I'm looking for a lady who enjoys my type of writing and who is prepared to colloborate with me on future stories. You will naturally share the credit, such as it is. If you are her. Then please email me.
Spoonbender.

 

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©–2001 | updated - 07.05.17