An Unlikely Premise

I'm pretty sure I'm not safe to be on the road right now, but it's too late to back out so I keep driving. I'm torn between two conflicting feelings, neither of which helps me to stay logical. The first is pure terror. It cuts through me like a knife every time I see the lights of another car, especially if it's in my rear view mirror. I stare frantically at it to see if it's a police vehicle, expecting the siren to start at any second. What if they stop me? My driving is erratic enough to encourage their suspicion. How the fuck will I explain myself out of this one?

At least the terror didn't come as a surprise. The second feeling caught me unawares. I'm insanely turned on by the whole thing. I wonder if you'd have been so keen on the plan if you'd known it would give me a raging hard-on which is making it difficult for me to keep my hands on the wheel and off my cock. This wasn't supposed to happen at all. Our plan was just to make the whole thing look convincing. But there's something about driving the dark country lanes with a scantily clad girl bound and gagged in the boot that's making it hard for me to contain my excitement.

............

The course of events which brought us to this point is so surreal that I can scarcely believe it really happened. The two of us are hardly Bonnie and Clyde. Neither of us is cut out for this sort of thing, yet here we are, behaving as if we're in an action movie.

We met at university, where I was finishing post-grad work when you were doing your degree. We were both studying the same subject. That was where the similarities ended. I was the product of a sheltered, strict upbringing. My parents had very little, but they made it last and lived with an iron self-discipline which was often stifling. You had been equally sheltered and restricted, but in a different way. You came from money and your parents gave you everything, but expected to vet every decision you took.

They didn't really mind our relationship at university, which began with coffee after lectures, proceeded through flirting and ended up lasting until we both graduated. But after that they became more protective of you and more dismissive of me. When we told them we were planning to move in together it was the last straw. They couldn't stop us, of course. We don't live in the nineteenth century. But they could cut off your allowance and condemn us both to poverty and they made it abundantly clear that they would do so. I wouldn't have minded this in itself. I was used to a frugal life. The problem was that it was so damned unfair. Why should they get to decide that I'm not good enough for you? It cut right across some egalitarian principle which must lurk deep inside me and it pissed you off just as much, so we cooked up a plan to take them for everything they've got.

The whole idea was completely absurd and we should never have allowed it to get off the ground, but I don't think either of us wanted to be the one to back out. My role would be to conceal my identity and abduct you one night, taking you to a secret location and demanding a ransom from your parents. Your part would be to play the damsel in distress while secretly going along with your kidnapping. I would collect your ransom and return you to your parents, before investing the cash in an offshore bank account. We would then allow enough time to pass to alleviate any suspicion and then leave together to start a new life abroad with our ill-gotten gains. A five year old could have made a long list of reasons why it would never work, but somehow we couldn't get it out of our heads and before long I found myself making preparations by visiting a local adult store to pick up a bondage kit and booking an obscure holiday cottage in the middle of nowhere as a place to keep my 'hostage'.

We talked it through one last time the day before your abduction. Your parents would be away for the night, leaving the coast clear, but we would need to make it look convincing for the benefit of any CCTV footage or witnesses. You would get ready for bed and switch off the lights. I would drive up wearing a balaclava, climb through the conveniently open window, secure you, put you in the boot of my car and drive you away before anyone could do anything about it.

I worked out that it wouldn't be a complete disaster if we were caught in the attempt. It would be highly embarrassing, of course, but as soon as you revealed your willing participation we would be seen as two unconventional but consenting adults playing a kinky game. The point of no return would be the ransom demand, because at that stage we would enter the realm of fraud and actually be committing a crime.

The first part went surprisingly well. I put on my best kidnapper's outfit of dark clothing, grabbed my bag of supplies and drove to your parents' place. I put on my gloves and balaclava shortly before arriving, waited for the lights to go out and made my 'forced' entry through the window. Entering your bedroom I found you wearing your nightdress. We had agreed this in advance for the sake of appearances and I had stored plenty of your clothes at the cottage when I had checked in the previous day. It was a warm summer's night and there was no danger of you feeling cold.

You greeted me with a nervous grin and a quick hug, before telling me to get on with the job and turning away from me, placing your wrists behind your back. I secured them there with the handcuffs from the bondage kit, turned you around to face me once more and then pushed you back onto the bed. Kneeling in front of you I bound your ankles with a length of rope from the same kit and then stood up to check my handiwork. What I saw brought me up short with a shock. I knew you were acting, but you looked every inch the innocent victim, staring up at me with frightened eyes. The cute nightdress added to the look of vulnerability. One strap had slipped off your shoulder and the whole garment had ridden up to reveal a delightful pair of pink panties beneath. At that moment I realised how difficult it was going to be for me to focus on getting a ransom for you and not simply taking advantage of your captive body.

The panties gave me a mischevous idea, which we had not planned in advance. Every captive girl needs a gag as well as bonds, and what better to silence you than your own underwear? I looked around the room and found the right drawer, but as I reached inside further inspiration struck me. Lying alongside the cabinet was a used pair of panties, which I picked up before turning to you with a gleeful smile. You realised quickly what I was about to do and started to protest, but I wasn't listening. It would serve you right for being so untidy and leaving your dirty clothes lying around. I forced you to open your mouth by tickling your sides to make you laugh, then took advantage by stuffing the underwear inside. It took a little while to overcome your resistance, but I got the whole thing in eventually. Before you could spit it out I grabbed a scarf, pushed it between your lips to hold the panties in place and tied it tightly at the back of your neck. Now you really looked like a damsel in distress. Your cheeks bulged slightly with the panties in your mouth and the scarf bisected your pretty lips perfectly. You tried to speak but I could only hear a delightful mumble.

Much as I wanted to linger over the attractive sight before my eyes, strongly turned on by the whole thing, I had already taken too long over your 'capture' and we needed to get on the road. Scooping your slim body up effortlessly I slung you over my shoulder, carried you through the house to the front door, exited as quietly as possible, opened the boot of my car, dumped you inside, got into the driver's seat and drove away.

............

I wonder how uncomfortable you must be feeling right now as I drive. I placed some cushions in the boot before setting off to make the journey as pleasant as possible for you, but I don't suppose they help very much. Still, I can't risk letting you out in case we're seen. Besides, the thought of you trussed up and at my disposal, mouth occupied by your own used panties, is far too appealing for me.

The journey seems to take an eternity, but eventually the street lights disappear, the roads narrow to lanes between high hedges and finally our accommodation comes into view. It's an old farmhouse with flagstone floors, open fireplaces and exposed wooden beams. It is altogether a lovely place to stay, in fact, and will be all the better with a pretty girl tied up in the kitchen to improve the view. I pull up the car in the yard, lift you out of the boot and carry you inside, setting you down on one of the sturdy wooden chairs before untying the scarf and pulling the sodden panties from your mouth. 'You bastard!' is all you can manage to utter from your parched lips as I bend to remove your restraints. It's a fair comment in the circumstances.

Once you are free I fetch you a glass of water. You gulp it down eagerly before asking for something stronger. I open a bottle of red wine and pour us each a glass. We toast our success and I light the fire which I prepared earlier before we settle to our drinks. The fire is not necessary tonight, but it adds to the atmosphere and I'm keen to relax now the initial ordeal is over.

As soon as your glass is drained, however, you seem to be all business. 'We need to prepare the ransom demand,' you announce, 'so tie me up again.'

Thinking back I remember that we had mentioned this before. We planned for me to take a few convincing snaps of you to send to your father using the email address we set up for the purpose. The wooden chairs are perfect for the job of securing you. You lean back and reach your arms behind the chair, while I prepare to restrain your wrists, selecting a length of rope this time instead of the cuffs I used before. Before I can bind them in place, however, you stop me. 'Lets make it more convincing,' you suggest with a frisson of excitement in your voice. 'They'll pay up more quickly if they think I'm in sexual peril.'

Before I can ask what you mean you have pulled your nightdress over your head, leaving you wearing nothing but the pink panties I saw earlier. My eyes are drawn immediately to your lovely breasts, which are left exposed in the firelight. Your nipples are conspicuous as they stand proudly to attention. I must be lingering over the view, because you urge me to get on with it. I move behind you to find your wrists once more compliantly crossed and I bind them together before securing them to the slats of the chair. Next I tie your ankles again, not together this time, but each one separately to the rear legs of the chair on each side. This has the effect of parting your knees and raising your bare feet off the floor at the back of the chair. You wriggle your toes delightfully and I can't resist giving each naked sole a tiny tickle. I find your resulting involuntary giggle almost unbearably erotic.

But I've tied you up to take photos, so I pull myself away from your captive body and fetch the camera. You pull a suitably terrified face and in only a matter of seconds I have taken the necessary photos. The hardest job is for me to stand normally when my cock is trying to burst its way out of its confinements and I desperately hope you don't notice my discomfort. You'd be so disturbed at my arousal that I don't suppose we'd ever have sex again.

When I've finished I try to keep my eyes off your breasts and kneel to untie your ankles, but as I'm doing so the front of my trousers brushes against your knee and you must have felt the hardness of my cock. I just can't look you in the eye, but you end the awkwardness with a question. 'Don't you think a real kidnapper would take advantage of me when I'm all tied up like this?' you ask in a whisper. My head jerks up as if I've been punched in the jaw and I look at you to see if you're really saying what I think you mean. 'I think we should make this as realistic as possible,' you continue with an encouraging smile, 'so do your worst, villain.' I need no further invitation. With two sentences you have sealed your fate.

I stand up and survey my girlfriend, seeing her for the first time as my prey. At first I'm overwhelmed by the unexpected possibilities which are now open to me. The darkest fantasies which I've always kept locked away in the recesses of my mind have suddenly become possible at your request. Essentially you've authorised me to rape you. I've never had an invitation like that before. So where do I begin?

I start by trying to act the part of the heartless predator, circling you a couple of times and taking in my prize. I see you in a whole new light and identify details of your body with unprecedented clarity. Your lips are slightly parted and your eyes are following my movements. A bead of sweat trickles down your temple and I realise you are sitting next to the fire. It won't burn you, but it's close enough for you to feel the heat. Under normal circumstances I would move you away and do everything possible to increase your comfort, but tonight I leave you there, enjoying your inability to help yourself. I wonder what's happening to me and whether I'm really becoming the monster I'm pretending to be.

The features I notice most are not those on your face, but those in your most sensitive areas. Your chest rises and falls with each breath and your breasts are thrust forwards by the enforced positioning of your arms behind your back. I've never seen your nipples look as firm as they do now. It's as if they're reaching for me, craving my attention. Below them your crotch is also prominent because of the way I have bound your legs to each side and pulled backwards. Can that really be a tell-tale moist darkening of your panties where they come into contact with your sex? All the evidence suggests that you are getting aroused by this.

You're not the only one who's feeling the mood. My cock is so hard it's beginning to be painful inside my clothes. I badly need to let it out and now seems like as good a time as any since I might as well show you what's in store for you. Unzipping my flies I reach inside and release it into the open. It springs immediately up in front of you. I see your eyes following it in anticipation. You know it's going to be filling you in one way or another before long.

Now I'm fully in character. I stand confidently before you, cock erect and on display to my bound captive. Suddenly I'm in the mood to talk. This is unusual since I normally keep my mouth shut during sex. I wouldn't know what to say. But tonight it just seems right to give you a commentary on your maltreatment. 'I'm going to fuck you, slut,' I begin. I've never called you something so demeaning before, but it seems appropriate tonight and you don't object. 'I'm going to fuck you until you squeal,' I continue, 'and then I'm going to fuck you some more.' As I speak, a decision about where to put my cock first takes shape in my mind. That chair you're sitting on is low enough that I won't even need to move you and it's exactly what a kidnapper would do to show his captive what her future is going to be like.

I move towards you until I am standing over you, my legs straddling your body and the tip of my erect cock brushing your face. You know what I want and evidently decide to play the part of the reluctant victim by pursing your lips and refusing to comply. Without thinking I slap your face. It's barely a slap at all. I'm not that kind of man. It must have only stung you slightly, but it acts as a reminder to you that I'm in charge and your mouth drops obediently open and your tongue wets your lips in preparation. Before I plunge inside the thought grabs me of how much that slap has given me a craving to do the same thing again and harder. But it's not your face I want to strike, but somewhere much more erotic and much less prone to harm.

But all that can come later. Right now my cock wants some love. I slide it between your parted lips, relishing the warm embrace of your mouth. It is a truth which should be universally acknowledged that every girl who gets herself captured is going to get swiftly familiar with the taste of her kidnapper's cock, but strangely they don't refer to it in the mainstream media. It would make a lot of adventure stories more interesting if they did. We're putting that omission to rights tonight in some style. You've given me head plenty of times before, but this is different and incomparably superior for me. On those occasions you were giving me the gift of a blowjob out of a sense of generosity and if you allowed me to come in your mouth that was a bonus. This time I'm simply taking what is already mine by right of capture and plundering your mouth for all it's worth. You can't even use your hands to assist you, so you have to generate motion and pressure by bobbing your head up and down with some difficulty from your bound position. And yet you're taking to the task like you never have before. It's as if being nearly naked and tied to a chair has caused your mouth to go wild with lust. Your lips and tongue are working together in a frenzy of submissive effort.

I won't last long like this, but there's time for me to do something before I slow you down to prolong the encounter. The camera we used to take the ransom photos of you still lies on the table within my reach. I pick it up, point it down towards your head and take a few shots of you sucking on my cock to add to the collection. The first click takes you by surprise because your eyes were shut. But after that you respond beautifully, looking directly up at the lens. You're posing as if you were born to be photographed pleasuring a man. Evidently the camera loves you.

But I can feel myself reaching orgasm and it's way too soon for that. I put the camera down and take steps to slow you down. From my position above you I reach down and behind your head, where your hair is fastened in a pony tail. It provides me with the perfect handle for what I want to do. Taking a firm hold I take full control, moving your head on and off of my cock and watching it slide backwards and forwards between your willing lips. This makes things harder for you and I feel you gag slightly as you can no longer control my speed and depth of entry, but you soon relax and adapt to the new sensation. It's time to push my luck. After several thrusts I slow the movement but push your head further onto my cock than before, forcing you to take my whole length in your mouth. You struggle initially, but ultimately surrender to the inevitable, letting me slot your mouth so far onto me that your nose comes into contact with my pubic hair and my cock is buried out of sight in your throat. 'Hold it right there,' I order, and you know better than to disobey. Picking up the camera again I take several pictures of you deep-throating me. Gone is your ability to pose for the shots. This time your face is so close to my body that you can see nothing beyond my stomach muscles. I look at the image previews on the screen. They show a poor little rich girl receiving the face-fucking of her life, mouth stuffed to bursting with her captor's cock. Maybe I should send these photos to your parents instead of the other ones. I wonder what they'd make of that. Perhaps if they don't pay up immediately we can do just that to increase the pressure.

I put the camera down and hold the position for several moments, savouring your increasingly frantic gasping as you struggle to breathe. Then I pull you off and let you gulp in the air, but before you can recover I force myself inside again, inserting my cock fully into your mouth like a plug going into a socket which was made especially to accommodate it. You are more ready for it this time and you don't fight the intrusion, even managing to flicker your tongue around me as well as you can like a good slave girl should. Evidently your new status is sinking in.