Taken

I pull up into the driveway, the stereo turned up loud, somewhat disappointed that my time alone has come to an end. I had been enjoying the rare opportunity to relax and think only of myself for a change. I close the sunroof and take off my sunglasses, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for the song to end. I climb out and head to the door, already making my mental 'to do' list. At least I have the house to myself for now.

I turn the key in the lock of the back door, step into the mudroom, and hang my purse and sweater on the hook beside the door. I step out of my sandals and walk barefoot into the kitchen, the tile cool against my bare feet. The kitchen is dark, even on this sunny day. Why does he always insist on closing every blind in every room? Doesn't he know I hate a dark house?

I reach into the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water, and the light from within illuminates a quick movement behind me. In that instant, before I can even form a complete thought, I am slammed forward into the refrigerator door. A large hand clamps against my mouth and nose and stifles my shriek of shock and fear. An arm wraps around my chest and traps my arms against me. My water bottle flies out of my hand and across the floor. I find myself strangely mesmerized by the movement of the bottle as the water sloshes back and forth inside it.

I am suddenly broken from my reverie by the movement of my captor as he pulls me back against him. A quick gasp reminds me that I cannot catch much of a breath against the hand across my face. I kick backwards, trying to make contact, but a leg captures mine, pulling me closer against him. I am off balance, my mind racing. "Please, can't breathe…" I beg behind his hand. His hand loosens enough to give me room to take a shallow breath. I strain to turn my head, trying to get a look at his face, but he twists my head the opposite direction.

"Don't scream, or I'll tape your mouth shut," he says, his hand tightening against my face again. I nod, unable to speak, trying to place his voice, racing to come up with a plan, any plan.

"I'll do anything, please, do you want money? I have cash in my wallet."

"Shut up," he mutters. He loosens his arm around me, and I take the opportunity to raise my arms and bring my elbows back into his chest. I find contact, and hear him grunt, and he is knocked backwards. Just as quickly, he shoves me forward onto the kitchen table, his weight against my back, knocking the breath out of me, bringing my arms back behind me and pinning my hands against my back. I cry out with the sudden wrenching pain.

"Don't fight me. You'll lose," he says into my ear, his breath hot on my skin. His hand comes away from my mouth, and I gasp for more air.

"I won't, I promise, please stop, you're hurting me," I whine, losing my composure, tears starting.

"Come," he orders, pulling me up off the table, and I wonder if he thinks I have a choice in the matter. I am not a small woman, certainly, but he most definitely has the advantage in this situation. His size and his strategy has me overpowered. One hand holds my wrists together tightly behind me, and the other is clamped over my face again. I follow his directive as he pulls me backward and pushes me into the living room and up the stairs. I take the stairs slowly, gingerly, trying to avoid the shooting pain as he tightens his grip on my wrists behind my back.

We reach the top of the stairs, and he steers me toward the bedroom. Did he walk the house while he waited? How did he know exactly where to go? As he pushes me toward the bed, I see a black bag on the dresser. I shudder in fear. He has been here, he's been here, he's been waiting for me...the thoughts race through my head.

He deposits me on the bed with one hard shove, and I try to catch myself with my arms, which tingle and ache as the blood flow returns slowly. I hide my face, crying and shaking. I begin to pull myself toward the head of the bed, but he catches my ankle and pulls me backward. I fight against it for a moment, then give in, afraid to find out what he plans for me, but afraid to anger him.

"Turn over." I hesitate, and he repeats himself. "I said, turn over. Now."

I roll over, afraid to look at him. I look toward him, and am surprised that he stands over me, undisguised and openly examining me. He is tall, probably over 6 feet…or perhaps it's my vantage point making me think that? Black hair, cut short. Do I know him? Have I seen him before? I don't think I do. I would have noticed him. His eyes are dark and piercing. Why does he want me to see his face? The thoughts that rise up inside of me scare me more than anything that's happened so far.

He has set the black bag at the end of the bed, and he reaches into it. My eyes follow his movements as he pulls white rope from the bag. His hand grabs my ankle and I jerk back against his touch, which quickly tightens against my resistance. I kick at his hand with my other foot, but he anticipates my move and grabs it before I can make any contact.

"Stop. Now." I obey. He wraps the rope around my left ankle, quickly tying off and fastening the rope to the leg of the bed frame. He ties off the other ankle the same way, and I pull myself as far back onto the bed as the ropes allow, trying to get as far away from him as I can. He reaches into the bag again and pulls out a roll of duct tape. He stands still, watching me intently. Waiting, it seems. I look down at the bed, the blood rushing in my head. Unsure as to what my response should be. I think about screaming, but know that won't help me. The nearest neighbors are a half mile down the road, and no one will hear me.

Finally, he speaks. "Do I need to cover your mouth?" I slowly shake my head. He sets down the tape. He reaches into the bag, pulling out another length of rope. "Give me your arms." I slowly bring my arms in front of me, offering them to him. He loops the rope around my wrists, and between them, and tying it off with a tight knot. He steps beside the bed and pulls my hands up over my head and back to the headboard, tying them to one of the slats. I am now forced onto my back, and he tightens the ropes holding my ankles, pulling me flat against the mattress.

His hand settles on my ankle, and slides up my leg, stopping where my skirt starts, just above my knee. I find myself holding my breath, unsure as to what he plans to do, what to fear, what to expect. He looks me in the eyes, his direct gaze frightening and unnerving. We're frozen in time for a moment, his fingers hot against my leg.

He removes his hand, steps to the other side of the bed, and repeats the motion, running his hand up my leg, farther this time, stopping on my inner thigh, my skirt rising up to expose more of me. He then steps to the end of the bed, and kneels between my legs. Again, he stops to look directly at me. I look away, afraid to hold his gaze a second longer.

He reaches between my legs and finds my panties, roughly pulling them aside, his fingers exploring me. I freeze against his touch. He pulls his fingers out and holds his hand up next to my face, a wry smile coming to his lips. "What's this? You're enjoying yourself, aren't you?" I shake my head, my eyes shut against his questions.

A sharp slap on my thigh forces me to look at him. "Answer me."

"No, no, no. I'm not." He touches his hand to my lips, and I can't help but smell myself on his fingers, and I hate my body at that exact moment, hate it for betraying me, hate it for finding pleasure in what it shouldn't.

"You lie." I close my eyes as his hand returns to run across me, pressing hard and then his fingers find my clit, and I feel myself press against his hand, willing at that moment, wanting more. My mind races, fighting against rising desire I feel.

He reaches for my skirt, lifting it up to expose my breasts. I see my nipples hard against the sheer fabric of my bra. Again, my body betrays me. I press myself against the bed, pulling back from his touch as his fingers find my nipples and pinch hard. I inhale and turn my head away, biting my lip.

He finds the front clasp of my bra, and undoes it, my nipples hardening even more in the open air. He pinches my nipples again, his only other response a quiet laugh at my efforts to hide my reactions.

"Look at me." I turn my head, glad his fingers have released my nipples, so that I can stand to look at him, holding my gaze as steady as possible. I look in his eyes as he lifts my skirt to my waist, and rips my panties apart, tossing them aside. I feel myself fighting a new rush of arousal again, and I know he recognizes it when he finds my clit, pinching and rubbing it between two fingers.

His fingers leave my clit and slide into my pussy, pushing in and out, with shallow strokes at first, then deeper. I whimper, unable to hold it in. He continues to run his fingers in and out of me, until I can feel myself nearing orgasm, but suddenly he stops. He climbs off the bed, and I watch as he unbuttons his jeans, sliding them down enough so that I can see his cock outlined by the thin cotton of his briefs. I feel myself growing wetter as I watch him. He slides his jeans off and then his briefs, and I see that he is fully aroused, his cock thick and long. He climbs onto the bed, and comes beside me, his cock brushing against my cheek. He presses the head of it into my lips. I hesitate, and he grabs a handful of my hair and pulls hard. I open my mouth slightly, and he pushes into me, hard and fast. I feel the head reaching the opening to my throat, and the pressure causes me to gag.

He begins to move in my mouth, fast and deep. "Suck me." I shake my head, and his grip on my hair tightens and he pulls out, slapping my cheek. "Now." I nod weakly, and he shoves back in, seemingly deeper this time. I struggle to find a rhythm with my mouth, finding it hard with his grip on my hair. If he comes, maybe he'll be done with me. Maybe that will be enough for him. I feel his cock contracting and know that he's close. I move my tongue quickly along his cock, and I feel him shooting into my throat. I swallow and suck hard on the head, and he pulls it out, the last drops of his come on my lips.

"You liked that, didn't you?" I shake my head weakly. He laughs at me, and bends down to untie the ropes holding my ankles to the bed. I am hit with a flood of relief, so glad it's over. But as he flips me onto my stomach and ties the ropes to the bedposts again, I realize it's likely far from over. He steps away from the bed, and my fear heightens as he walks into the closet, pulling down the wooden box hidden far back on the top shelf.

He comes to the side of the bed and sets the box next to me. "So, do you know what I'll find in here?" I nod and bury my head. I know exactly what's in the box, and I know it well. All of our toys, and I have never imagined someone else opening the box, seeing what I crave, what drives me.

He flips the latch and swings open the lid, his smile widening. I see him run his finger across the restraints, the blindfold, and the gag, all folded neatly together in one compartment. He lifts one vibrator and a dildo and holds it out to me, his brows lifting. I look away. His hand runs along the back of my leg, stopping at the curve of my ass, bringing me back to him. He sets the two toys back in the box, and unwraps the glass dildo, holding it's weight in his palm, considering.

"So many choices…" he pauses and looks at me, his eyes darkening. He looks back at the box and reaches in, pulling out the butt plug. "This will be the starting point, don't you think?" I swallow, trying to look unworried. Rarely does that toy come out of the box. I try to breathe evenly. He pulls out the glass dildo, the gag, and nipple clamps and sets them beside my head, setting the box on the floor. I twist around to watch him as he walks behind me. He smiles at me, amusement in his eyes.

He unties my ankles, and bends my knees, bringing me up to my hands and knees, pressing my chest down to the bed. "Keep watching me. I think you'll like what you see." I shake my head, and turn my face into the bed, but his slap against my ass cheek causes me to obey, bringing my head around to watch him as best I can. The position he has me in somehow seems more humiliating than anything he's done to me so far.

He pushes his finger into my pussy as he kneels behind me. He runs his moist finger up my crack, and I feel the pressure of his finger against my ass. I tighten my ass and will it away, but another slap and his hand rough against my pussy tells me to allow his finger entry. I loosen the muscles and his fingers slips in, just a glimpse of pain reminding me of what's happening. I relax into it as best I can, willing myself to stay calm.

"You're better off this way, you know. Letting me have my way." I ignore his words, looking straight at the wall. He puts his other fingers into my pussy, pressing into both holes at once, and I let the pressure push me down into the bed, not fighting it.

"Good girl" He pushes my legs farther apart with his knees, until I have no choice but to let my weight rest entirely on my chest, his fingers deep inside of me. He pulls them out, and runs their wetness over my ass. He shoves the plug into my ass with a quick motion, and I cry out, the pain overwhelming me.

"You don't like that?" I shake my head, tears starting. He laughs, pushing the plug into me again and again, the base flush against my asshole. The sharp pain warms and becomes a feeling of heat and fullness. I press back against it, wanting the feeling to stay and grow. "I think you do like that. Tell me about it." Another slap on my ass brings me back to reality, and I shake my head.

"No, it hurts."

"Does it, really?" He presses against it again, taking my breath away. I will my body to stay still, ignore it.

"I don't think you're telling the truth." Again, his hand against the plug, and now his fingers on my clit, tormenting me, driving me forward, and I feel myself nearing orgasm, the fullness of my ass and the pressure against my clit joining and I press myself against his hand. He pulls away, and bends down to look me in the eye.

"Am I hurting you?"

"No, please…"

"Be honest."

"No, I need it. Please…."

"I need to hear you ask for it."

"I need you to let me come."

"Let you?"

"Make me come. Please!"

He smiles, and moves back behind me, his cock hard again, pressing against my ass, burning as it stretched me, much wider than the plug. I try to press back into him, but can get no leverage to press backwards. He spreads my cheeks with his thumbs, and with one thrust, he is in my ass, deep inside me. The pain is sudden and I shriek, his hand wraps in my hair and tightens, taking my breath away. He begins to move in me, deep thrusts that seem like they will never end. He pauses, slides the glass dildo into my pussy, and begins to move in my ass again, sliding the dildo in deep and holding it still while he fucks my ass.

I strain to stay on my knees as he pounds into me. I feel his shudder and he comes inside of me, and I feel my ass fill with him, and he pulls out, stepping back. He steps beside me again, holding the dildo inside my pussy, sliding it in and out, and he fingers my clit, bringing me so close to the edge. I am straining to move against his hand, so close I can't help myself, I cry out. He slaps my ass, and I come at that exact moment, shocked at the intensity, as I feel waves of pleasure streak through me, so much. I slump over, feeling his come drip out of my ass.