Her Captor

by Walt A.K.A. Xan

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© Copyright 2009-2020 - Walt A.K.A. Xan - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; bond; gag; rope; enslave; cell; nc; XX

Continues from

Chapter 2: A Dark Existence

She waits, uncertain

what her slavery will bring

and who demands it.

Wrapped in her cocoon of bondage after being kidnapped from her home, May wondered who had ordered her abduction. She’d been driven around for a long time now and recognized that the vehicle had stopped. She speculated whether this was a stop for gas or their destination. As she wondered, she barely felt the needle slide into the side of her buttocks, and moments later her musings turned into dreams as she was carried into her new world that would be both her home, and prison.

May had, almost two decades ago, epitomized the American image of a young female beauty. She started her sexual life as a tall, gorgeous young woman enthused with the way she could get whatever she wanted from boys and young men. May began a series of encounters with men that were well-heeled and could afford to treat her to the finer things. Several of them seemed to derive pleasure in spoiling her. Discovering what this offered her, she went in search of how to become the perfect millionaire’s bimbo.

Her first sugar-daddy, at 18, bought her some rhinoplasty and then some blepharoplasty, to more clearly define the crease in her eyelids without trying to completely westernize her looks. This enhancement brought her to the attention of her lover’s boss and she traded up without thinking twice about hurting her first benefactor. Her new daddy rewarded her with the best pair of breasts money could buy. Heavy, natural looking teardrops, with small always perky, pink nipples delicately and skillfully re-attached to look like original equipment. Breasts that size were just a bit too big for her young frame. However, they would be just right when she matured into them. Over the next eight years, six more men, each richer than the last, augmented her with a series of surgeries and educations, enhancing her natural beauty into the Barbie-bimbo ideal of their over-inflated male egos. Professional body sculptors exercised her and trained her how to maintain their efforts. Schooled in the arts of a courtesan, from several of the renowned bordellos of Europe and Asia, May flowered as a sexual consort. Finishing tutors taught her how to please men, and women under any circumstances. She learned how to listen to, flatter and properly appreciate people of power. Noticed by many as an arm piece of raw femininity and refined grace, May earned her status as a bimbo to the wealthy and powerful. Unfortunately, she also earned the ire of the most dangerous of all enemies, a trophy-wife already in position and defending what she’d worked her glamour to achieve. When May tried to step into a certain prominent wife’s shoes during a time of domestic strife, the older and shrewder woman - with her husband’s old-money and power - took action.

May’s fall from grace was epic. Falsely accused of her married lover’s murder, she was arrested by federal agents that were in the pocket of the grieving widow. May was convicted by a jury of those willing to railroad someone for a 5-digit bribe and sentenced by a judge that golfed with the widow at her club. Because of her beauty and the judge’s lust, May’s sentence was served at the same place Martha and other dignitaries did their Federal time. Several years later, with her lessons learned and debt to society paid, a newfound joy in the simpler things in life motivated May to seek higher paths.

However, some powerful men had other, more sinister plans for this woman.

* * *

May woke up shivering in the dark. At first, she wondered if she was still blindfolded, or God forbid, actually blind. When she could feel no covering for her eyes, she feared the worst. She felt around her for something, anything, but all she felt was the stone floor and the metal walls and door of a moderately sized cell. Trying to find warmth, she quickly discovered that she was naked. Reaching up to her hair, the matted mess made her eyes tear up. Her hair hadn’t been this disheveled since her early teen years. As she crawled around and took stock of her surroundings, she discovered not one other thing in this room that she now realized was a prison. Panic was beginning to settle in as her teeth chattered, more from being frightened than from the cold.

Along with the noise of a seal being opened, she felt the rush of warm air on her skin. Jumping to her feet, she searched for the light she believed would accompany an open door. Instead, her scalp burst into fire as something grabbed her hair and by irresistible force shoved her to her knees. May got out a second or two of her screams before someone forced something between her teeth that filled the inside of her mouth. The pressure against her tongue was just short of activating her natural gag response. The shape was familiar enough, but the size seemed to be much larger and a little longer than she was used to. This rubber-tasting intrusion was held in her mouth by a strong hand while something was fastened around her head. Her hair was savagely yanked out of the buckle and from under the strap holding the long, choking phallus in her mouth. When her hands came up in protest, her captor slapped her from behind, hard enough to stun her. Pain blinded all thoughts.

Recovering, moments later, May pulled against the ropes wrapping around her wrists, which were now behind her back, but it was already too late. She struggled vainly against the man compromising her freedom as he continued to bind, cinch and knot the ropes that quickly made her situation non-negotiable. Frustration crushed her as more ropes forced her arms close together, causing more pain. She felt helpless enough just having her wrists tied, but this felt punitive as it added to that hopeless/helpless feeling she’d experienced earlier. Struggling faded as more ropes tightened across her chest and were cinched under her arms holding all of the ropes so that none of them would loosen or slip off her body. It wasn’t a surprise to her when she was picked up and pushed into the corner.

It did come as a surprise when her left foot was picked up off the ground by a grip around her ankle that felt like steel. To further confuse her expectations, a shoe was being fitted onto her foot. As she tried to flex her foot, she recognized the feel of a high-heeled pump with a very high arch of five-inches or more. She knew by the feel and fit that it wasn’t a cheap shoe. May felt her captor buckling two thin diagonal straps across her instep, and another strap around her ankle. In the pitch black of the room, her captor’s fingers had a deft touch as he perched her on her toes and trapped her foot in the shoe with multiple straps. Her right foot quickly found itself encased in the matching stiletto heel. Forcing her right ankle behind her left, May leaned into the cold walls of the corner and began to sob as she felt ropes tighten around her crossed ankles. The strong hands of her captor checked her bonds and what she assumed was her circulation. Her bonds were tight, but not cutting off the feeling in her hands. Satisfied that she was indeed quite helpless, he spoke to her for the first time. His controlled bass voice menaced her with soft words spoken directly into her ear. This was definitely a different man than the one that had kidnapped her, but the authority in their voices was matched.

“You will stand here, like this, until I decide to return and change your position and possibly your bonds. If you do not, I will add a noose to that long neck of yours, pull it snuggly toward the ceiling, flog you until my arm is tired, cane your thighs until you can barely stand and then watch you try not to hang yourself. You will learn to obey me, or you will suffer horrible pain.”

May froze in terror.

Continuing, he moved to her other ear and whispered, “If you learn quickly to please me, I will reward you. I own you now. You are payment for many years of faithful service to the men in power here. If you haven’t moved from this spot by the next time I look in on you, I will raise the heat in here. Learn to enjoy your ropes and your captivity. You belong to me now, completely, and your training and service will be for my pleasure.”

Her trembling came not just from the cold anymore. Her shivers came from thinking about his stunning proclamation, not to mention her situation. One, she was convinced that she was blind. No one could have manipulated her as easily as this man did in the dark. He could see her, but she couldn’t see anything. No city dark was ever this dark. 

Secondly, she was at the total mercy of a mentally tough and powerful man. This was a completely different man than the one that had kidnapped her. Her captor was forceful, but kind overall and she felt safe with him. This new man controlled her with a similar ease and experience, and what frightened her even more, without mercy. 

Thirdly, few men could or would keep their hands off of her body, but this man seemed coldly clinical, almost disinterested. He positioned her for his convenience, and then tied her, but he never groped her, pinched any part of her or even brushed against her in a suggestive way. A man’s disinterest in her body was very foreign to her. And very scary. 

Fourthly, she easily recognized his ploy to force her to obey him. He promised her pain, discomfort and terror if she tried to escape, or even moved. The promise of warmth if she endured this humiliating discomfort offered her what she wanted and needed at the moment. Her suffering was obviously for his pleasure. Well, she was no stranger to putting up with men’s unreasonable wishes to get what she wanted, and right now she wanted warmth more than release from her bonds. As she leaned into the corner, she wondered how long it would take for her to get used to the bone-numbing chill of the metal walls.

Her wrists could squeeze around within the loops welding them together, but she could not reach a knot or loosen the constriction no matter what she tried. Her balance on her crossed and bound ankles forced her to concentrate on not falling. Several times she wanted to allow herself to breathe deeply, but the ropes crushing her arms to her chest made that effort difficult. She still had circulation, which frightened her even more. Her captor had skills at bondage. Unconsciously fellating the thick rubber phallus held in her mouth by straps attached to a padded leather plate, she contemplated her situation.

The more she thought about bondage, the more terrified she became. Being bound and gagged was something she was leery of because she knew the potential power it held over her. She’d liked it when she’d been tied up or handcuffed in the past, because the normal control she held over men was temporarily taken from her. Unfortunately, the boys who tied her never completely took control of her, at least not in the way she yearned for them to. They made sure she was inconvenienced as they took what they wanted, but her absolute helplessness was not in their plans. 

Now, she suspected this man may be able to do that very thing to her, and all of a sudden helpless submission terrified her. Her world was no longer revolving around pleasing a man in ways that were easy and fun for her. Something deep inside of her told her that this man could not be influenced by her beauty and charms the way the others had been. Her world, as of tonight, was reduced to keeping her balance, ignoring her tortured and aching limbs and trying to slurp up the copious amounts of saliva produced by the fat, rubber, dick in her mouth. If it had been a real dick, she could manipulate the man it was attached to with her talents, but this strain was impersonal. This frustrated her with the unconscionably futile effort to merely keep from drowning in her own spit. Terror consumed her now. Her body shivered from the cold and from the unknown fate of her life in captivity. What would happen if she could not please this man? What was worse? What would happen to her if she learned to like this absolute control? That drove her thoughts into madness as the fears of her desires projected the most horrifying visions of slavery into her mind.

May struggled absent-mindedly against her bonds, not from a need to escape from them necessarily, but to reassure herself that she was absolutely out of control.

Roy watched her on the four large screen monitors fed by the fourth-generation night-vision cameras in every upper-corner of May’s cell. Pan-tilt-zoom or PTZ mounts on the cameras gave him the information he needed to process. Realizing that she had stewed in her worry for the right amount of time, he moved into the dungeon to release her and continue her training.

Scared but yet unhurt,

she’s now so out of control, 

what will happen next?

Continues in


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