tagBDSMJust My Imagination

Just My Imagination

byzenmackie©

At the time of this posting (late November 2011) I’m looking for a new submissive female to train online. If you think you might enjoy serving me have a look at my bio here:

http://www.literotica.com/stories/memberpage.php?uid=533505&page=bio

And get in touch if you think we might be compatible.



My other stories (including audio versions for some) are here:

http://www.literotica.com/stories/memberpage.php?uid=533505&page=submissions



They were in his car, heading for a remote cabin in the Catskill Mountains.
Michael was kidnapping Karen.
Although he didn’t know it.
And Karen certainly wasn’t about to tell him.
Because he wasn’t, really.
And besides, it was her idea.

----------

It all started with a silly attempt at humor on Michael’s part:

One Friday on a summer evening Karen drove to Michael’s apartment building after work, as she often did. As she crossed the street and hurried up the stairs to the door she failed to notice Michael arriving on foot from another direction…until he jabbed a finger between her shoulder blades and growled, “Stick ‘em up.”

They had always been something of an odd couple, in many ways. Michael was dark, well over six feet tall and solidly built, tending just a little towards heaviness. Karen was a freckled redhead and just five and a half feet tall, with a dancer’s slim build--still perhaps thinner than she ought to be after a long battle with anorexia in her teens. Michael was a corporate lawyer, slaving away towards what he hoped would be a junior partnership in the not too distant future. Karen was an assistant curator at the Museum of Modern Art. They both put in huge amounts of overtime and their relationship occasionally suffered because of it.

Still, they had been together—or as together as they could be—for the better part of two years. They were both horrendously busy and had next to nothing in common…and yet somehow a bond of genuine affection had grown between them. Karen loved him and was sure he loved her, although he didn’t express it in words very often. But he was romantic enough, in his way, sending flowers to her at work, sometimes for no reason at all, or having a candlelit dinner waiting in her apartment when she got home.

He was a tender and thoughtful lover as well, always as much concerned for her pleasure as his own. The problem, as far as Karen was concerned, was that he was maybe a little too tender and thoughtful. It was just one more aspect of their ‘opposites attract’ dynamic, she supposed. WASP republican lawyer meets Jewish liberal arts-administrator.

There was a stolid, almost puritanical streak in him that she sometimes found endearing; his dependability and near-obsessive organizing abilities gave a stability to her own somewhat chaotic nature. But he was the same way in bed; it had come to the point where she knew pretty much what he was going to do before he did it. What he did, he did very well, but Karen craved more than tenderness: she wanted passion, imagination …and maybe a hint of danger.

She sometimes thought she’d settle for having him talk dirty to her once in a while. Or talk with her about sex at all. But that was not something he did.

She’d tried making subtle suggestions; she’d even tried initiating a few things. But his reaction had always been about the same: puzzled incomprehension…followed by mild shock if she was too obvious. It had been a literally uphill climb just to get him to allow her on top occasionally; she’d had to complain of being unable to breathe underneath his bulk.

Karen knew that something had to be done. She didn’t want the relationship to end but her frustration was really beginning to get to her. An affair was out of the question: she loved Michael too much…and besides, when would she have the time?

She had resigned herself to spending more quality time with her vibrator…until the night Michael put his finger in her back and said, “Stick ‘em up.”

Karen turned and smiled and put gave him a hug and a kiss.

But in the instant before she did, an image filled her mind: the man behind her wasn’t Michael at all, but a sinister stranger. His features were conveniently vague…but his gun was real.

Accompanying the image was an unarticulated thought: He has a gun…I have to do whatever he wants.

And as she turned towards Michael she felt goosebumps—and her nipples—begin to rise.

After they finished greeting each other Karen led the way into the building, deliberately keeping Michael slightly behind her as the fantasy took hold. Oh Lord, he’s forcing me into this abandoned factory… She pushed the button for the elevator. …And now onto this grungy old freight elevator…

The elevator arrived and they stepped inside. No use screaming for help…I’m at his mercy.

Her breath was beginning to quicken. She stood next to Michael as he pushed the button for his floor then placed an arm around her shoulders and held her lightly. He didn’t speak--which was a good thing since Karen was already having a very intense conversation.

**********

He kept the gun pointed at her as the creaking elevator began to rise.

All right, let’s see what you’ve got, Red.” He pointed the gun barrel at her skirt and jerked it in a lifting motion.

The leer in his voice was unmistakable but Karen pretended not to understand. She held her purse out to him, trying to keep her voice steady as she spoke.

“Take what you want. Take it all, just let me go.”

He grabbed the purse from her with his free hand and tossed it carelessly into the corner of the elevator.

**********

With a sideways glance at Michael, Karen stealthily allowed her purse to slip to the floor next to her foot.

**********

He took a step toward her, his gaze purposeful. “Oh, I plan to take it all, Red…a little at a time. Now turn around and show me that cute little booty of yours.” He gave her an evil smile. “Or should I just help myself?” He reached his hand out towards her…

Karen jumped back, her hands clenched in front of her.

“No…please…!” She drew a quavering breath. “All right, all right--I’ll do it.”

She turned…

**********

Karen glanced at Michael once more. He had taken out his Blackberry and was completely focused on it.

Quickly, Karen eased her hands behind her and, using just the tips of her fingers, gathered up the back of her skirt and tucked it into her waistband. Then, still watching Michael out of the corner of her eye, she leaned forward ever so slightly, hooked her thumbs in the elastic at the sides of her panties and pulled them down, just past her hipbones.

**********

She glared over her shoulder at her captor. “All right, you’ve seen it. Now stop this elevator and let me…”

She cried out as he slapped her bare behind, hard. She whirled around to face him…

…only to find herself staring straight down the barrel of his gun.

“You seem to forget who’s in charge here.” His voice was casual but his gaze was hard. “But you’re going to learn. Right now”

With his free hand he brought the elevator to a screeching halt. While she was still off-balance he grabbed her by the shoulder and forced her to her knees…then seized the back of her head and began rubbing her face against the front of his filthy jeans. She struggled and gasped for breath, but she was no match for his strength. Finally he grabbed a handful of her hair and jerked her head back so that she was looking up into his face.

“Take it out. Now,” he rasped.

Oh, God! He was going to make her—

**********

The elevator stopped and the door began to slide open.

Karen barely had time to yank the back of her skirt out of her waistband and allow it to fall back into place while leaning down to pick up her purse. Michael, apparently still preoccupied, noticed nothing. Nor did he notice that as they made their way down the hall to his apartment Karen walked with a somewhat bowlegged stride in an attempt to keep her panties, still bunched at the tops of her thighs, from falling down.

But he certainly noticed when, the moment the apartment door was closed behind them, Karen pushed him back against it, kissed him passionately for several moments, then fell to her knees and began tearing at his belt buckle.

Karen knew Michael would be shocked by her behavior. He was a firm believer in doing certain things at certain times in certain places--and oral sex against the apartment door the moment they’d arrived fell into none of those categories. Still, he certainly didn’t try to stop her…and after a few minutes he bent down, picked her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom, apparently not even noticing as her panties slid down her legs and off the ends of her toes when he lifted her. This was possibly because his own pants and underwear were around his knees, making the journey to the bedroom something of a challenge.

It even seemed to Karen that his lovemaking was a little bit cruder and more forceful, though it may have been the influence of the sinister stranger in her imagination, who was having his way with her at the same time.

In either case she was thrilled, both physically and emotionally.

That was the night that Karen discovered it was possible to lead a double life all by herself.

The stranger took up permanent residence in her imagination from that point on.

**********

He strode into her office unannounced late one afternoon and without preamble told her that he was horny…then demanded that she accompany him to the nearest restroom.

Karen stared at him coldly. “How dare you,” she hissed. “Do you think I enjoyed being kidnapped and used like your personal sex-toy?”

His mouth curled upward in a sardonic grin. “Do you think I care?’

“You…bastard!” Karen jumped out of her seat and leaned over her desk, shaking with anger. “The only reason I’m not calling the police right now is that I have no proof.”

He remained where he was. But his grin widened.

“Proof? You mean…like this?” He leaned forward and threw a handful of photographs onto her desk.

Karen glanced down at them…and gasped. There she was, with her skirt up and her panties down, looking back over her shoulder at the camera. There she was, on her knees, with her hands and mouth full. There she was…and there…and there…

There was no evidence of a gun in any of the photos, and every indication that she was performing voluntarily…even enthusiastically.

She looked back up at him, her face white. Her mouth opened, and at first nothing came out. “Wh—wh… H-how…?”

He was grinning openly now. “What you’re trying to say is that I’m smarter than I look, right?” He scooped the photos off the desk and dropped them to the floor. Then, moving so quickly that Karen had no time to react he grabbed her wrists and yanked downward, pinning her hands to the desk and bringing her face with inches of his. He was no longer smiling.

“I was smart enough to take those pictures, and I was smart enough to hack your computer so I’ll know where to send them. Who do you think should get the first set? Michael? Your boss?”

His gaze was burning into her. Karen thought frantically…and came up empty. She was beaten and they both knew it. She met his eyes defiantly as long as she could…then dropped them.

“I… No. Please don’t,” she mumbled.

“Look at me!”

She slowly raised her head and met his eyes again. His stare intensified.

“We understand each other now, right?”

Karen nodded.

He searched her eyes for a long moment then slowly nodded back.

“All right. Now…get up on your desk.”

Karen’s eyes went wide with shock. “Wh-what? B-but I thought we were…”

Before she could complete her sentence he snatched her arms out from under her and began dragging her across her desk.

“I said, get up…on…your…desk!”

**********

Karen was fairly sure her boss was gone for the day. Nevertheless she roused herself long enough to go down the hall and try her door before hastening back and locking her own behind her.

In reality, she closed the blinds and moved papers aside before clambering carefully up onto her desk and standing upright. But in her imagination…

**********

…Papers went flying everywhere as he yanked her almost entirely off the desk, letting go of her arms just before she tumbled onto the floor. She scrambled up onto all fours, started to say something nasty to him…then caught the look on his face and simply struggled to her feet.

She was trembling as she stood up, wobbling a little on her high-heeled sandals. She nervously brushed her hair out of her face as she tried to get used to her new circumstances. She had never liked heights at the best of times…and this certainly wasn’t one of them. She felt a little dizzy, and very exposed, standing up there in the light summer dress she was wearing.

He was now standing with his arms crossed, looking up at her. “Maybe now you’ll remember to do what I tell you…when I tell you.”

Barely able to breathe, Karen nodded. Her arms felt awkward and heavy at her sides.

He went on. “For your information, I was planning to take you to a restroom—or some other less…public… place, as a concession to your ladylike sensibilities. But I changed my mind.”

He stepped closer to the desk, and Karen had to resist the impulse to step back, knowing it would anger him. Not to mention the fact that she had nowhere to go without falling off the desk. She watched his gaze move slowly downward from her face…and she shivered.

He was looking at her dress. It was one of Karen’s favorites, a lovely dark-green summer frock that seemed to float around her and somehow show off her slim figure at the same time. But at the moment she wished she were wearing tweeds…or a suit of armor.

“Yes,” he said musingly, looking back up at her. “Simple, yet elegant. It quite suits you. But it’s such a warm day, after all—I don’t think you need it.”

His gaze suddenly sharpened.

“Take it off.”

Karen knew she didn’t dare to even seem to hesitate. She made her mind a blank to everything except following his directions and reached behind her neck to unfasten the clasp. She quickly unzipped the dress, shrugged if off her shoulders and stepped carefully out of it. For one brief second a heel caught in the hem and she teetered on one foot, terrified that she would fall, but then she caught herself and stood upright again.

The dress hung limply from her hand. He reached out and took it from her, saying, “Very good. If you continue to behave well you might even get it back.” He tossed it onto a chair.

He stood back and looked her over. Karen felt horribly vulnerable, standing on top of her desk in nothing but her shoes and underwear…and yet, absurdly, she was also glad that she had worn nice lingerie: a lacy bra and panty set with flutter trim, all in shades of light and dark green which complemented her red hair and pale, freckled skin.

She willed herself to stillness, moving only her eyes as he walked slowly around her desk…once…twice… Taking his time--enjoying her discomfort no doubt, she thought.

Then in the back of her mind a terrible realization began to dawn: there was something about this situation, about being made to strip and display herself like this, like a slave about to be auctioned off to the highest bidder, that she found… No! No! It wasn’t true!

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

He was standing directly in front of her, looking up with an expression of amused disbelief on his face. “You’re enjoying this.” It was a statement, not a question.

Karen suppressed a gasp. How had he…? She began shaking her head in denial, but this time gasped out loud when he casually reached up and jerked her brassiere downwards, causing her breasts to pop out. Instinctively she tried to cover them with her hands, but he seized her wrists and held them at her sides.

“Look,” he commanded her.

She looked down…and saw her traitorous nipples standing firmly erect. Oh God, she wanted to die of shame.

“Your nipples are hard…aren’t they,” he demanded.

“Yes,” she whispered, not daring to look up.

“Look at me,” he demanded, and when she met his gaze continued, “Yes…what?”

Her lips began to tremble. “My…m-my…” Tears of humiliation began running down her cheeks. “…ni-nipples…are hard.”

He nodded, continuing to hold her in his gaze. “That’s right.” Suddenly he took her hand and shoved it into the crotch of her panties. “And…?

Oh God, the fabric was damp against her fingers--no, it was soaked. She looked down and could see the darkened area there. She quickly glanced back up at him, the tears coming even faster.

“My p-p-panties are w-wet,” she managed to stammer.

“Right again,” he said. Still holding onto her wrist he began sliding her hand in and out between her legs, watching her keenly as he did. “So I guess that means you do like what I’m doing to you--doesn’t it?”

Ohhhhh…He was making her stroke herself, right in front of him! God, she hated him. Hated him for blackmailing her into this; hated him for humiliating her; hated him most of all for knowing that every single moment of it was arousing her to the point of madness.

“Yeeeeessssss,” she moaned. “I l-like what…mmmm…you’re…ohhh…doing to me.”

He released his hold on her wrist then, and stepped back. Karen, knowing what he wanted—what she wanted—held his gaze…and continued to stroke herself through her panties. Oh, what was the matter with her? Why was she behaving this way?

Again he seemed to read her mind and answer her unspoken question: “You’re a naughty little girl…aren’t you?”

God, how did he know? How was he doing this to her, making her so unbearably aroused?

“Yes! Yes, I am,” she cried, her voice hoarse. She suddenly thrust her hand deep into her panties and continued to stroke herself, still holding his gaze. “I’m a n-naughty…Uhh!...little girl!”

Oh Christ, she was going to come any second! Oh! Ohhh…

Suddenly her wrists were once again caught in his iron grip and she was held utterly still.

“Not just yet,” he growled. He pulled her downward until her face was close to his, and then said, in a near whisper, “Do you know what happens to naughty little girls?”

Karen wanted to scream with frustration. Oh God, she’d been so close! Still, she knew better than to keep him waiting. She tried, unsuccessfully, to catch her breath before shaking her head slowly and whispering back, her eyes wide with fear…and anticipation, a simple, “No.”

He made no further reply, just held her in his gaze as he again pulled her by the wrists: down, down…until her hands were almost touching the desk.

Then he wrapped them firmly around her ankles…and let go.

He began to walk behind the desk.

Karen widened her stance ever so slightly so she could see between her legs and watched as he jerked open her desk drawer and rummaged around in it for a moment before coming up with the large metal ruler she kept there. It only took Karen an instant to grasp his intention and she gasped aloud.

But she kept her hands tightly around her ankles.

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