by Graymangazer & Sadiax

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© Copyright 2014 - Graymangazer & Sadiax - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/f; kidnap; captive; cartrunk; basement; chairtie; cuffs; gag; bdsm; crop; revenge; torment; nipple; cons/nc; X

A business woman is kidnapped by a younger woman for revenge. This story is told alternately from the viewpoint of two people, Sadiax wrote as the young kidnapper and Graymangazer as the captive. The plot wasn’t planned, just two people bouncing off one another. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as we did writing it. Please feel free to comment.

Part One

I felt frightened. I always thought I was tough, I make tough decisions every day, decisions often affecting people's lives, but now I know I am a woman alone, a frightened woman in a frightening situation.

The company car park has always been a place I hated; dark lonely and chill, but I had become blasé about it and I walked casually to my car. It was late, my car was the only one left on that floor and she was waiting for me, she walked out in front of me from behind a concrete pillar, I jumped in surprise, but she was young so I wasn't alarmed, but she also had a gun, it could have been a child's toy, it probably was but I am far from an expert on firearms, I knew though that when someone points a gun at you, you do what they tell you.

She snatched my bag away from me and I thought she would rob me so I tried to tell her that I didn't have much cash, but the barrel of the gun was pressed against my lips as a warning to be quiet. I began to tremble in fear as she pulled me to the back of the car and the tears started when she forced me into the trunk. I looked up at her as she closed the lid, I thought she looked familiar but I meet so many people in my job that it is hard to tell. As the car moved off I tried to stay calm and think what she might want with me; I was successful but I was hardly rich, not worth the risk of kidnapping for a ransom, if it was a man I would have been convinced that he intended to rape and murder me, but surely not a young woman, a pretty young woman at that. Why that should make a difference I didn't know, but I couldn't, I wouldn't believe such an attractive young woman really meant me harm.

As we travelled and I came to terms with the situation I began to think I might be able to get out of this, but she soon convinced me otherwise. When we arrived at our destination it was no more than five minutes later that I found myself in the position I am now; cuffed to a chair in a dank basement with a bag over my head.

I don't know how long I sat there, it felt like hours but could have been minutes but I jumped in fear and surprise when the bag was snatched from my head. She had changed her clothes, that was my first thought as I blinked against the light, gone were the jeans and hooded sweatshirt, in their place was a small black dress and four inch heels. She held a glass of wine in her right hand. She looked like a model and I felt drab and dowdy, she was so pretty, her dark hair and her makeup were perfect, whereas my suit was crumpled, I had holes in my stockings and my pride and joy; my long red hair was lank and stuck to my face and head with sweat, I didn't dare to think what my face looked like after all the tears and being under the hood. It seemed utterly ridiculous; I had been kidnapped at gunpoint, held in some stark cellar, I was maybe minutes away from death and I was concerned about my appearance.

I waited for her to speak, I had a thousand questions to ask but somehow I knew I should stay silent. She walked slowly around me as if inspecting me. She stood to my right and sipped her wine, I didn't know whether to look at her or not, somewhere in the back of my mind I thought that if I didn't remember her face I had a better chance of release.

"Miss Darby Davidson, not so high and mighty now are we?" she said.

I snapped my head around to face her, she knew my name and it now sounded like this was personal "I...I'm sorry, I don't know who you are, please tell me what you want?" I studied her smirking face, there was something about her, I tried to remember her but it was no good, I couldn't put a name to the face.

She placed her glass on a table to the side and moved behind me; I yelled when she suddenly pulled my head back by my hair, I was forced to look up at her, my mouth agape with the pain from my scalp. She caressed my cheek with her spare hand and ran the tips of her fingers lightly over my lips, I sat frozen in place as her hand slid down my stretched neck and into the top of my shirt, when her fingers wormed their way inside my bra I finally found my voice "P...Please don't," I pleaded quietly.

She grinned, her face upside down in my vision and I winced as she gripped my nipple between her thumb and forefinger, she squeezed and twisted, my nipple erupted in pain. When I looked up at her again she was excited and licking her top lip.

Whatever the reason she wanted me for, and whatever she planned to do to me, I felt that this was just the beginning.


Miss ‘high and mighty’ didn’t even recognise me! She ruined my life; sitting there complacently at her computer, dealing with units and establishments rather than real people. To her, all I ever was was a press of a button and a problem dealt with. Fury rose in me like the fury I had felt twice before thanks to her. The arrogance of this bitch made me livid. This time, however I determined to keep myself under control. I can never remember who said that clever quote, but the person who remarked that revenge is a dish best served cold clearly had me in mind.

She winced and cringed gratifyingly as I tweaked that sweet little pink nipple. Her plea was honey to me, sweet to savour. I could unexpectedly feel myself dewing along my pussy. A delicious thrill ran through me as she whimpered and I could feel my own nipples erect in sympathy with hers.

The wine was delicious. My every sense was enhanced and alive. I could almost see the pulse racing at her delicate, pale throat. I watch her like a stalking cat watches an injured bird. She snatches glimpses up at me, in between dropping her gaze, frightened. She pulls surreptitiously at the cuffs. Good luck with that, I think smirking. Those cuffs are strong enough to hold my regular partner and he is far stronger that this fearful mouse.

‘Please…’ she begins again and wordlessly I put my glass down on the floor and clamp my hand forcefully across her quivering lips. She gurgles and squirms, tears coming to her eyes.

‘Quiet’ I hiss, my full red lips close to her well made ear, so close that the air stirs unkempt strands of that sweet red hair. I wonder if she’s red down between her thighs too. I smile at the thought. There will be time enough to discover that in the coming minutes, hours and days.

Her lips move beneath my palm and I tut and sigh. I press harder and she stills.

‘I don’t want to hear anything from you Miss Darby Davidson’ I tell her, my voice cold and brisk. She tries to move her head, eyes swivelling to look up at me, a most delicious blue. The pupils are dilated and so attractive. Her whole demeanour excites me more than I ever expected it would. In the beginning all I ever wanted was an explanation, an apology, some dignity. Quite when this became a sexual thing eludes me. Perhaps it was during the weeks of stalking, following, mapping out her life and waiting for the opportunity to get her alone. Suddenly though, she was in my fantasies and I had her image in my mind when I climaxed as I touched myself.

I slide my free hand back down that ruined blouse and push the bra aside roughly, enjoying the muffled squeal she makes as my fingers seek her little button of a nipple. I stroke it, small and hard. She knows what is coming and the tension unnerves her. I wait, building it. My fingers circle that delicious bud, my mouth watering as I imagine slipping it between my teeth and nibbling it.

But……time waits for no man, as they say. And very few women either no doubt. I remove both my fingers from her nipple and my palm from her mouth.

‘So, Miss Davidson’ I begin ‘or, may I call you Darby?’

She nods, unsure, desperate not to anger me. I smirk.

‘So, Darby….’

I step back, hands on hips and head cocked to one side, a little tipsy with the wine and the sudden power over this woman. She’s older than me, around forty I would say, maybe a little older, but well preserved, slim and well groomed. I regard her appraisingly.

‘So, Darby’ I continue finally ‘we have a problem’

My words are ominous and she recognises that. She begins to shake her head and I put a manicured forefinger to her pink lips, momentarily overcome with a mental image of her pussy lips and my finger there.

‘I need something from you’

Her eyes are confused but already she knows better than to speak. I look forward to using a variety of gags on her, but I know that they will be just for my pleasure. She will be quiet when I command it.

‘Contrition?’ I ask, almost to myself.

Her eyes are wide and desperate and pleading, and so sexy.


I pick up the riding crop that lies hitherto unnoticed by her on the table in the darkened corner of the room with other instruments of incarceration and punishment.

‘What do you think, Darby?’


My nipple hurts and I think I might cry, I am about to beg her to stop when she suddenly lets go, I sag into the seat with a groan. I can still feel the pain from her fingers. She drinks some more wine and I pull at the cuffs when she isn't looking but there is no give. She strolls across in front of me and she trips slightly; it's obvious that shes had more than the one glass. I look at her as she watches me but I can't hold eye contact, I'm scared to speak but I have to try to convince her to release me.

"Please," I start but her eyes bore into mine and she casually places her glass on the floor. As she squats her short dress rides up revealing the tops of her stockings and I find myself staring at her long legs, I wonder if she is doing it by design but suddenly she is upon me and clamps her hand over my mouth. I can't breath and struggle to free myself but she grips harder, I try but I can't talk and she warns me to stay quiet. I believe she is going to kill me and she thrusts her hand into my top to again she grips my breast, this time roughly and I try to plead with my eyes, I manage to get some air through my nose just as she touches my sore nipple. My nipple aches and it is hard, I think it must be through fear, I refuse to believe it could be for any other reason. She holds me there for a minute then as suddenly as she started she stops

"So, Miss Davidson, or may I call you Darby?" she asks. Frightened of angering her I nod dumbly and she steps back.

She carries on speaking but the words don't entirely register, I am desperately trying to remember who she is so I can understand what she wants, I want to ask her but I'm too scared to speak now. I hear the words 'contrition' and 'Atonement' and realise that she imagines I have slighted her in some way. She moves out of my sight and returns seconds later, the clicking of her heels sound so ominous, she is idly swinging a riding crop from her fingers. She is so calm and in control, both mentally and physically.

"Oh God no please," I beg when I see the crop and realize the implications, but she just smiles, she is obviously enjoying this and that makes me more afraid. Then she pulls her other hand from behind her back and producers the gun again, she points it at my face and I feel myself on the verge of panic, she pulls the trigger and I scream.

I scream as she laughs, cold water strikes my face and she squirts more over my head and chest. She continues until the water pistol is empty and she laughs uncontrollably, I thought I was going to die and my tears mix with the water on my wet cheeks, it was a cruel prank and it has almost broken my spirit but her laughter serves to give me a little resolve and I force myself to stop crying. When she eventually stops giggling she tosses the fake gun into the corner, and with a flick of her wrist the crop stings my breast.

I yelp in shock and pain and I look down at myself, I am still wearing my shirt, but some of the buttons are missing and the soaked fabric is plastered to my breasts, my breasts that are clearly visible beneath the almost transparent material. The next strike again takes me by surprise, this time my other breast burns with pain. I cringe and try to turn away but she takes her time, casually flicking with the crop as she circles me, I never know when or where the crop will strike; it appears that my breasts are her main target but my arms, legs, shoulders, even my stomach aren't spared. I try to be brave, I don't want to cry again but the crop hurts and even though I know she isn't hitting me hard I can't stand it. But the worst thing is the feeling of complete helplessness, the knowledge that she can do whatever she wants and I can't do a thing to stop her.

It is too much and I start to blub, each strike forces me to beg and plead but through my sobs I'm sure nothing intelligible comes out, I feel ashamed that I have been defeated so quickly, but I have never in my life had to endure pain, I'm not prepared.

"Please, please, stop, I'm sorry, I'm sorry if I hurt you, I'll do whatever you want, please stop," I beg between sobs, at last she takes pity and stops hitting me, my head is hanging down and I can see only her feet but she puts the tip of the crop under my chin and lifts my head to face her. Her hips sway from side to side as she moves forward and sits astride my thighs, with her hands resting on my shoulders and the crop held behind my neck. Again I can't hold her gaze and lower my eyes, her forehead rests against mine and for a brief moment I think she is going to kiss me, but her lips stop an inch from mine and she whispers very quietly.

"Oh yes Darby you will, and much much more, who knows you may even like it, I know I will."

Her breath is hot on my lips and I imagine I can taste the wine she has been drinking. She holds that position for a minute and with my eyes downcast I can see her nipples poking through the material of her dress, and further down her spread thighs have caused the dress to ride up almost to her hips; the smooth white skin of her thighs framed by her hold up stockings and black lace panties pulled tight over her pussy, I'm not sure but I think I can see dampness where the panties pass over her lips. I am all too aware of the closeness of her mouth to mine and I let out a small whimper.

The moment ends when she springs to her feet as if she has just thought of something, I can feel my face burn from embarrassment, did she know how I was looking at her body? could she tell what I was thinking, no surely not. She tosses the crop onto the table and picks up a large pair of scissors, standing with one hand on her hip she clicks the scissors a few times in front of my eyes.

"As much as I love the wet look I think you would look even better naked." she says.


She looks at me imploringly, blue eyes wide amid streaked eyeliner. A pulse has begun in my crotch, a beat that reverberates through me. I can feel my arousal rising like a living thing, surging through my veins, heading for completion.

I take the scissors and she stills immediately when I place them against that once crisp blouse, now stained and rumpled by her struggles. I carefully snip off the buttons all the way down as she tries to shrink into herself and holds her breath. The blouse hangs open and reveals her taut belly, the skin pale and flawless. She sobs a little, biting her lip and looking away as if to deny that this is happening to her.

I go behind her and unlock the cuffs unthreading the chain from the wooden back of the chair and quickly, before she realises how free she is, I snap the cuff around her slender wrist and click it locked. I jerk her to her feet. She skitters on her heels like an hour old colt, seeking to keep her feet, my hand entwined in her luxuriant red hair. She is docile and compliant but that does nothing to calm me and I grip her face in one hand, my fingers biting into her pale cheeks, making her gasp as I force my lips to hers. Her breath is sour with fear but her lips are plump and soft and delicious. I crush them with mine and she whimpers, the noise muffled and pathetic. It excites me further and I pull the tatters of the blouse off her shoulders and down her arms where they tangle with the steel cuffs. She gasps breathlessly, eyes downcast and dazed.

I look for the scissors but they seem to have disappeared and I can’t wait so I take the front of her bra in both hands and with strength fuelled by righteous anger I tear the garment at its join under her breasts. She whimpers again as her sweet heavy breasts fall free and her rosy nipples crinkle erect. She tries to draw her shoulders in and somehow cover herself and I laugh, high and mocking. I spy the scissors under the chair and picking them up I snip the straps at her shoulders.

‘Please….’ She whispers, her voice almost lost.

I slap a palm across her mouth, feeling the lips move helplessly as I stand on one foot to pull my knickers down, first one leg then the other.

She understands too late as I place the damp bundle to her lips and tries to twist her head away.

‘Keep still, bitch’ I hiss, a droplet of my spittle landing on her cheek. She knows that I mean business and struggling to control herself she obeys. I pack the drenched panties into her protesting mouth, using an index finger to wedge them in, only a small area of silky black shows between her white teeth. She looks panicked and I hold my hand over her mouth to help her calm down.

‘You will not make a fucking sound, Little Miss Darby Davidson’ I tell her, trying to keep my voice calm and reasonable.

She looks at me, her eyes so wide and fearful, so enticing, so arousing, pupils dilated; nostrils as well. Her breath warm on the back of my hand, stirring the tiny hairs there. My bare pussy feels swollen and the lips are parted like the petals of an exotic flower.

‘Do you understand?’

She nods pathetically, as much as my tight grip will allow.

I go to the table and find the tape. She dare not move as I tear off a strip and plaster it across those sweet lips, pressing it down firmly. I add another couple of strips for security then step back to admire my handiwork. I do find a well gagged woman so………sexy! My pussy twitches in response to her and I take her face in both hands, planting a forceful kiss on her sealed lips. I could swear she tries to respond and I step back to get a better look at that blushing face.

Nearly there, I think.

I tear off her skirt without any further ado and toss it into the corner of the basement cellar. My lips rise in a smile as I see her panties. Cotton! plain white with a cute little teddy bear design. I laugh at the unexpected sight.

‘Oh dear Darby,’ I tease and tut mockingly. She blushes deep to the roots of her hair ‘A teddy bear?’

She closes her eyes tight and a single tear forces its way out of her right eye and trickles down her face slowly.

‘The woman who ruined my life wears teddy bear knickers?’ my voice is disbelieving.

Her eyes open at my words and I can see her straining for recognition. I don’t allow her the time though. Her bewilderment is now amusing to me. I pull the knickers down her long legs and expose a sweet, plump pubis, sparsely covered with red hair. The labia peep out, white and open to coral pink.

I can feel myself salivating as I gaze at that sweet, sweet, delicate pussy.

I break the spell by sitting on the seat and pulling her down across my lap, my hands greedily caressing the twin globes of her buttocks.

‘So, Darby……’

She makes a small interrogative noise, muffled by the gag.


I squeeze those round, firm buttocks. Somebody works out, I muse. My index finger seeks between her buttocks and traces down her cleft to the tight rosebud of her anus. She squeals and squirms, panicking as I tap the tip of my finger there. Her slender wrists tug at the cuffs and she tries to get off my knee but my free hand is at the nape of her neck.

‘Shhhh, darling Darby’ I talk to her as though to a baby ‘Be nice and still or you will regret it’ I warn.

She whines miserably and her breath hitches.

‘We talked about contrition’ I tell her ‘but I’m not seeing too much of that here….’ My finger presses harder and penetrates her just a few millimetres. She screams into her tight gag, trying to clench her buttocks as I slide it in another centimetre. Her anus is tight and velvet against my finger.

‘I have been amazingly easy on you considering the circumstances’ I hiss into her small ear ‘but if you cannot obey and allow me my way I will punish you. I will punish you harshly.’

I twist her hair in my free hand making her wince and sob.

‘Is that what you want?’

to be continued...

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