I was walking home alone on the 14th of November, the night I was taken. The wind was high, and it carried squalls of rain. I had been at the opening of an art exhibit, which was tedious, but there were a few people that I knew in attendance and there was an open bar. The street was deserted, as you'd expect on a residential street at 1 a.m.
I had no fear of walking alone in my neighbourhood, even at night. The park was on my left hand side, and brownstones crowded the opposite side of the street, their windows mostly dark. As usual, both sides of the street were lined with cars: it was impossible to find parking in the city. I heard a dog bark in the distance, and a gust of wind blew a few dried leaves across my path with the rain, remnants of autumn.
I thought I heard footsteps in the park, but I assumed it was just a tramp, or some desperate teenagers enjoying themselves in the bushes. The trees danced in the wind, their shadows seeming to suggest the forms of evil night creatures in my fanciful, slightly drunk mind. I quickened my pace, my high-heeled boots tapping out a quick rhythm on the damp pavement.
Off to my left a shadow seemed to detach from a tree and become a separate form. Suddenly, before I had time to react, I felt arms wrap around me from behind, pinning my arms to my body and rendering me helpless. My mind went blank: all of my self-defense training seemed to evaporate. I tried to struggle, kicking uselessly, but his grip remained tight.
Pressed up against him, I could tell that he was much larger than me, the back of my head hitting only his chest and shoulder as I tried to fight back with any body part available. I opened my mouth to scream, but as I did so I felt his hand cover my mouth with a damp rag, smothering my voice. I smelled something medicinal and sweet, then my legs seemed to give way under me. My last memory before I felt the darkness envelop me was of being laid in the back of a vehicle, a coarse moving blanket beneath me and a softer blanket being placed over me like a shroud.
My palms were sweaty against the wheel of my SUV as I drove away from the quiet residential street, taking back streets to make sure I wasn't being followed. The girl in the back was my prize, hard won after many weeks of careful observation and waiting for the right moment. I made my way to the highway, making for my place in the country. I had a room prepared for her, all ready for my Princess.
Once, I pulled off the highway and into the deserted parking lot of an industrial complex. I went to the back of the truck and lifted the blanket, checking to make sure that the girl was still under and breathing easily. Her skin was pale as a moonbeam in the dark, and for a moment, I ran my hand tenderly over her hair and face, feeling the incredible softness. No, not yet, I told myself, shutting the rear hatch and climbing back into the driver's seat.
I drove the rest of the way carefully, never exceeding the speed limit, being cautious so as not to arouse any suspicion. After an hour's drive, I pulled off the main highway for good, taking turns down increasingly narrow dirt roads. Finally, I pulled into the long, winding drive of my house. Pulling into the garage, I unlocked the side door, then went back to the rear of the truck. Being careful not to grab or pull too hard, I picked up the girl's sleeping form, and slung her over my shoulder.
I carried her up the stairs, all the way up to the attic room I had prepared for her. I had removed the windows and boarded them up on the outside so they blended with the existing siding, then drywalled the inside. The door was fitted with an expensive and complex electronic locking mechanism. There was no means of escape, even if she was conscious. The room was also fitted with a bathroom en suite, a bed, a gas fireplace, and a small table to eat meals at. I laid her on the high four-poster bed and set to work.
She was still deeply sedated, so I had no trouble removing her high boots, jacket, sweater, and skirt. I carefully cut off her bra, panties and stockings with EMS scissors, casting aside the tattered remnants. She still had not stirred. I looked down at my captive, admiring her pale skin in the dim light. Her curves were beautiful and sensual, inviting me to touch; but I had so much time to enjoy her, so there was no point in rushing.
I picked up a piece of rope from the table and bound her hands together behind her back, so that she wouldn't be able to do anything silly if she did wake up before I returned to her. I covered her up with the sheet and then the duvet, making sure she was well protected. I had no wish to harm her or cause her discomfort. I gathered up the clothing and left her alone, fastening the door securely behind me.
I awoke what felt like days later from a dreamless sleep. My mind felt veiled in a gray mist. When I finally opened my eyes, the light felt painfully bright. After a few moments of adjusting, I was able to determine that I was in a dimly lit room with no windows.
The walls were painted a soft shade of purple gray, and potlights provided the lighting. There was a gas fireplace warming the room, and small Persian rugs were scattered across hardwood flooring. I was on a bed, naked underneath soft sheets and duvet. My arms felt cramped, so I tried to stretch them, but found that they were pinioned with rope behind me.
When I was abducted, I had no time to think, only to react, and for the first time, I felt a real sense of terror, a sense that I was trapped and at the mercy of a stranger. I tried to sit up but my mind was still swimming from the chloroform. Without the use of my arms to steady me, I flopped back into the soft duvet. I tried a few more times, but with the same results. I let out a wail of frustration, which seemed to alert someone to my awakening, because I heard stirring on the other side of the door. I quickly fell back and closed my eyes, pretending that I was still drugged, hoping that he'd leave me alone once he saw that I was still asleep. Maybe I could use some of that time to escape.
The hinges creaked as the door opened, and I heard muffled footsteps as he approached the bed. He seemed to be evaluating whether or not I was still out. Slowly, so slowly, the covers were pulled down to uncover my bound and prostrate form. I could imagine his eyes taking in every inch of my body. I felt the touch of his hand on my torso, and did my best not to flinch or call out. He stroked my long brown hair and the angle of my jaw, then his hands traced down the curves of my body, lightly touching me.
A moment later, I felt the bonds slip from my wrists, and I was rolled onto my back. I felt the mattress give as he sat on the bed beside me. He lifted my left hand to his lips, kissing each finger in turn from the nail to the back of the hand, then beginning on the palm, tracing kisses downward to my delicate wrist. When he had finished, he carefully lay the hand down beside my body, then began to heap the same attention on my right. The sensation of having so much attention paid to one body part was entrancing: I had never had someone lavish so much attention on my hands before. My hands, those delicate instruments of touch, were responding to his ministrations with a million thrilling nerve endings. For a moment, I forgot the fear of being held by someone I didn't know and was instead lost in the sensation of being caressed with lips and tongue.
At last, he carefully laid down my right hand, and placed it as he had the left. I felt his body weight shift again as he reclined beside me. He again began to stroke my hair, brushing a few loose strands from my face. He gently placed his lips on mine, then kissed my jaw line, working his way down my neck with soft kisses. I have always enjoyed having my neck touched and caressed, and his attention almost caused a gasp to escape my lips. He continued to trail his lips down my body, paying attention to every exposed inch of pale skin. I could feel his clothed body pressing against me, his breath becoming increasingly ragged as he enjoyed me at his leisure. He was kissing the angle of my ribcage, then the contrasting roundness of my belly. His hands gently but firmly held my hips.
Suddenly, his touch was withdrawn, and the bed creaked as he got up again. I was almost disappointed that his attentions had come to an end. I dared to open my eyes a crack to see what he was going to do next. He was stripping, his upper body already naked. I was correct about his size: I estimated that he was at least seven inches taller than me, and his body looked broad and powerful. I wouldn't be able to overpower him, I reasoned, especially while still drowsy from the chloroform. He took off his pants and boxers, and I saw his cock spring free, already hard.
As he approached the bed, I closed my eyes again. He lay beside me again, stroking me. Then, he rolled on top of me, forcing the breath from my lungs and pinning me to the bed. I was completely trapped and immobilized. I felt his manhood pushing insistently at my thigh, the head already wet with pre-cum. He stroked my face, then crushed my lips in a passionate kiss. He slid his body upwards, his cock slipping between my thighs. When it reached my vagina, he began to thrust, gently at first, spreading our natural lubrication, mingling them together. Feeling his hardness on my clit was tortuous. It was swollen with the blood that had rushed from my head, and I knew that I was probably going to come if he continued.
As I thought this, his strokes altered and his weight shifted again, causing his hardness to press against my vaginal lips. He entered me little by little, being careful, taking it slow. Once he was fully inside, he began to slowly fuck my still limp body. He covered my face and upper body with kisses as his pace increased. He was still lightly rubbing against my engorged clit, which was bringing me closer and closer to orgasm. I fought against it, but I knew it was an inevitability if he continued.
Finally, I felt his cock stiffen even more, and he drove deeper into me: he was on the verge of climax. The increased pressure sent me over the edge, and I orgasmed, my vagina grabbing his cock tightly as I spasmed.
I felt like I was in heaven. The beautiful, silent and still girl beneath me accepted my cock, and it felt wonderful. I tried to take it slow, but it was so difficult to maintain control with my fantasy laid out before me. She was so open and vulnerable to my needs, my desires. I kissed the soft skin of her face and neck while gently impaling her with my manhood. I quickened the rhythm as I felt her pussy respond involuntarily to my intrusion, tightening around my cock. I could feel my orgasm building, and I knew that I was close, so close.
Her vagina clamped down on me, almost as though she had orgasmed in her sleeping state. It was too much sensation, and I climaxed, filling her waiting body with my vital fluid. As I did so, I grabbed both of her beautiful hands, intertwining our fingers, squeezing them tightly and pinning her even more securely to the mattress. She was mine: my Princess, my captive, my lover.
His body was completely limp, as was mine beneath him. He kissed me one last time, then pulled out of me and stood. His steps receded, then I heard water running, and he returned a moment later with a washcloth and cleaned me up, then covered me with a sheet and duvet. I was warm and safe. I opened my eyes fully, and looked up into his kind face, his blue eyes. He looked down at me and smoothed my hair against the pillow. The last words I heard before I was sucked back into the darkness were, "Goodnight, Princess: I'll see you again soon."