Abigail's Abduction

I looked at him, wide-eyed, so he went on, 'No, I don't mean it. Let's go to bed,'

I let him unchain my ankles, then followed him to his room. I needed to visit the bathroom, and when I returned, he was already in bed, watching me.

'You look lovely with all your stripes,' he said, 'a real slave at last!'

I climbed into bed, but he threw back the covers, and turned me over bodily. The next thing I knew he had roughly pushed my legs apart, and was spreading my arsehole with the fingers of both hands, inspecting me closely.

'I'm ready for you, Master,' I said, 'you can take me now!'

Needing no further encouragement, he shoved a pillow under my belly, knelt between my legs, and I felt, for the first time in my life, the head of a cock thrusting at my anus. I did my best to relax, and he hammered into me, in, in, past my sphincter, bringing stinging tears to my eyes, hurting far worse than Jane's whip, until he had stretched me beyond what I could have believed, and he was deep wwithing my velvet tunnel.

'Oh, Abigail, you're so tight,' he said, and I knew I had his lovely tool imprisoned in my hot sheath of an arsehole.

'Fuck my arsehole!' I told him, 'fuck me for all you're worth – I want your cum flooding me. Fuck my arsehole, fuck me!'

Spurred on by my filthy talk, he plunged fiercely into me, pounding, thumping his balls against my sore buttocks, and grasping my even more wounded tits as he drove. I came at least twice before he did, then he suddenly stiffened and shot his great wad of hot cum deep into my bowels. The bed was drenched, but it didn't seem to matter.

'God, that was a wonderful fuck,' he said, 'I'd better have Jane whip you again.' I wasn't too sure about that bit, but I curled up and slept, my Master's strong arms around me.

A couple of days later, Ana brought, with my breakfast, the news that Clara was going to take me to be pierced that morning. Bruno had gone off for the day, leaving instructions to that effect.

I showered and had a look at myelf in the mirror. My welts, which had really been no more than superficial, were fading, but a nice ladder pattern down my back was still visible. I dressed in a simple cotton print button-through dress, and apart from a pair of stiletto-heeled sandals, nothing else.

Clara was waiting for me when I got downstairs, and drove me, in the SUV, for almost an hour, stopping not far from JFK airport, outside a house which didn't look any different from its neighbours. I told her, on the way, that I was nervous about being 'done,' but she laughed and told me not to be silly. In the event it was no great ordeal. A tall lady in a spotless white lab coat welcomed us, and led us through to a disifectant-smelling office, equipped with a chair like a gynocologist's, with stirrups for my legs. I shook with fear as I took up position there, but there was a moment of humour, when the woman said, 'You'd better take your panties off first!'

I raised my dress and she laughed lightly, saying, 'I see.'

She had a good look at my pussy, fiddling about a bit with my labia, and told me, 'I don't think I'm going to be able to do your clitoris itself – that's only possible if you have a really big one – so I shall put a ring in your hood, OK?'

I was relieved, as I had read that clit-piercing could be very painful, and entered into things a bit more when she started to show me different decorations I could have. Clara approved when I chose a silver ring, with a single link of chain attached, from which would dangle a faceted red stone, set in a silver clasp. Almost before I could think about it, my pussy was adorned with its new decoration, and I felt almost nothing. I went on to have a two inch long triple chain attached to a ring in my navel, then it was the turn of my tongue – and I liked the coral stud that Clara had, so asked for a similar one. Neither of these piercings was at all painful, but they felt tremendously strange on the way home, especially the one in my tongue, which I felt sure had altered my voice. I was armed with mouthwash, and lotion to treat the areas of the other punctures, as well as an instruction that I wasn't to have any sex for four days. 'Ah,' I said to Clara, 'but I've another option, haven't I?' She laughed at that, a nice, deep laugh, and I suddenly thought it might not be such a bad idea to have a romp with Clara – she had a sensual quality, and her jet-black skin gave the promise of novelty.

'Let's stop for a burger or something,' she said, 'I'm famished.'

We visited a diner, but I found it very strange, eating with my new stud in place, and picked at my food, but noticed that Clara made short work of a burger and fries, stud and all. As we sat with a second coffee, she looked at me, and, hesitantly, said, 'Do you actuallyenjoybeing a slave, Abigail?'

'Yes,' I replied, 'I love serving my Master, and I'd do anything for him.'

'But....the punishment,' she insisted, 'you can't enjoy that kind of thing, can you?'

'If you mean being whipped – why, yes, it excites me more than anything, more than I would have believed.'

She shook her head disbelievingly. 'But Ana told me you were with that pretty East Indian girl the other day.'

I looked at her in alarm, and she grinned, a lovely, open expression, 'Don't worry, your secret's safe with us – we see lots of thing, you know.'

I thought I probably owed her an explanation, for some obscure reason. 'I was attracted to her – she's very beautiful.'

She reached across the table and put her hand over mine. 'I know. I find her attractive too,' she said, then lapsed into silence.

Slowly she began to stroke my hand, then, as if plucking up courage, said, 'Do you find me attractive – just a little bit?'

Whether it was the new stud in my tongue, or whatever, my voice sounded thick, even to myself. 'Yes, Clara, and more than a little bit.'

She drew away, and suddenly stood up, as if I had frightened her.

'Come on, we'd better get back!' she said, and off we went, a white girl in a summer dress and heels, and an ebony beauty in a short leather skirt and even higher heels, holding hands across the car park. When we got into the SUV, I said, 'Wait!' and before she started the engine, I leaned over and kissed her, opening my lips so that she could probe my mouth with her tongue, but flinching when our studs met, and the new soreness around mine made itself suddenly felt.

'Sorry, I forgot your new stud,' she breathed.

'It's alright, darling,' I replied, 'my fault. I've been wanting to do that for some time.'

We drove home in silence, but I knew we had started something back there in that diner.

As we got out of the car, Carla said, softly, 'I hope we can make more trips together.'

'Me too,' I replied.

That evening, to greet my Master, I chose the sheerest gown in my closet – a snow-white nylon creation, with fur trim at neckline, hem and the cuffs of its long, wide sleeves, completely transparent, so that when I looked at my image in the mirror, I saw my waist-chain, my new navel decoration, and even the nice little bejewelled pendant that dangled from my clit-hood. Ana came in to dress my hair, and whistled at the sight she beheld. 'You look.....pure sex,' she told me, and laughed when I told her I was too sore for anything tonight.

'I'm sure you'll find something you can do,' she said.

My Master was spellbound when he saw me.

'You look utterly fantastic, Abigail!' he said, 'I have to have you right now!'

I protested, telling him that I had been warned off sex for a few days.

'Nonsense!' he rejoined, 'bend over that table!'

I leaned over the telephone table in the entrance hall, and he lifted the fur-trimmed hem of my gown up, up to my waist.

'Legs apart!' he ordered, but had forgotten my shackling-chain, and had to get down and unhitch it for me, so that I could spread my legs for him, helping more by pulling my cheeks apart with both hands, to expose my now-accommodating arsehole for him. In an instant he had speared me, savagely and deeply, filling my anus with his lovely cock, filling my whole soul until there was nothing else in the world but his hard shaft plunging into me, taking me to a world of ecstasy.

'Oh, Master,' I moaned, 'yes! Fuck me hard, fuck my arsehole, and cum deep inside me, yes, oh yes!'

He thrust into me so hard that the table almost capsized, then yelled in my ear that he was cumming, and flooded my bowel with his hot spunk, as I came simultaneously, squirting all over the table-to, and soaking my belly and thighs.

'You really are something to come home to, Abigail,' he said, 'I think we'd both better change for dinner, don't you?'

At dinner, my Master quite suddenly said, 'I know it's almost time you were whipped again, my dear, and just looking at you fills me with a desire to inflict pain on you – I know how much you enjoy it.'

'Yes, Master,' I agreed.

'But you will recall,' he continued, 'that I intend to have you permanently marked.'

'Yes Master,' I gulped, 'as you wish.'

'I long to see you being branded, to hear your lovely flesh sizzle as it meets the red-hot iron, then to see my insignia etched on your body.'

I trembled at his words, and he reached out and held my hand. 'It will be a sign of your devotion, my dear,' he said.

I went to bed that night, and lay for a long time looking at the ceiling, wondering if I had gone stark, staring mad, to consent to the awful pain he proposed to inflict on me.

Little did I suspect that the next day would bring a huge change in my life.

I awoke and looked at my bedside clock. It was six thirty, an hour and a half before I was normally up, to pursue my life of leisure. My tongue felt odd, and I played for a couple of seconds with the decorative pendant which hung from my pussy, then realised that there were voices below, in the entrance hall.

I got up, and slipping on my kimono, crept out to have a look what was going on. It was then that I got an enormous shock. Two burly guys in blue coveralls with FBI stencilled on their backs, had my Master, one arm apiece, while a young black woman in a grey business suit was reading him his rights. Bruno's head was down, and he spoke not a word as they trundled him out of the house. When I thought the coast was clear, I went down to see if I could find anyone. Ana was in the kitchen, weeping, while Clara was nowhere to be seen.

When Ana had recovered sufficiently to talk, I gradually pieced together the story. It seemed that Bruno had been arrested for 'major crimes,' of which Ana knew very little, but I gathered they were of a serious financial nature. The practical Clara was apparently at that moment hiding his cars - and whatever else she could think of - away, so that the FBI couldn't get their hands on them.

I went back to my room, and sat for a long time, pondering my future, even wondering gloomily if I had one.

The events of the next few days and weeks would demonstrate what that future held.............................