The Taking of Caitlin Darcy

She hopped out her front door, jumped into her undamaged silver Accord and sped off.

My fear of illness or injury evaporated.

And worse; my hopes of her wanting to be with me also vanished.

She was back at school; who knows for how long.

And she never even tried to call me.

I had been used.

I was angry, but not seething mad.

I was, maybe, too embarrassed to be that mad and I felt far too foolish.

Foolish, mad and bewildered enough to drink myself sloppy that afternoon and night. I didn't even know how I got home, but I was there in the morning. And so was a hangover. After a couple Advils and a gallon of water I was beginning to feel sorry for myself, so I went to work. The syllabus for the class I was to teach this term was sitting in my email. And so was the class roster.

I outlined the first few weeks of notes and looked at the problem sets. No real issues with the material came up. But my concentration couldn't be sustained today; and I thought that a nice bottle of wine was in order; hey, my hangover ended at least two hours ago. As I was packing up the course materials I saw the roster and ran my eyes down the list of students:

Abdel...

Cassidy...

Chang...

Dell'Arte...

Franklin...

Hayes...

HAYES! No! It couldn't be!

I looked again, and there she was.

Hayes, Caitlin D.

Holy Shit!

I couldn't believe it.

Then I thought for a second, she would just transfer...

But she couldn't. World Political History; 1850 to 1930, was a required course. She needed it as a prerequisite for her senior year classes.

And best of all; my class was the only one offered this term.

She was stuck with me; oh, this is too good.

It was Wednesday. The students get their class assignments via email today.

I was actually smiling, deviously savoring the idea, gloating over circumstance and wishing I could see her face when she saw that I was going to be her instructor again this semester.

Her possible reactions ran through my mind like a movie and I leaned back in my chair and laughed out loud.

Suddenly, my cell phone rang and I was startled back to reality.

I looked at the number. It was Caitlin Darcy. Three weeks late and I was finally getting the call I wanted. Well, sort of.

She knew!

She knew that I was her instructor and there was basically no way to avoid it. What was she going to say to me?

I held the ringing phone and in only a few seconds I formulated a plan. No details, just a sketch, the bare bones, of what would unfold came to me. It was enough.

I took a deep breath and answered the call.

"Hello, this is Steve Priete."

"Steven, it is so good to hear your voice. It's Caitlin. Did you forget my number already?" The sweetness in her voice poured like honey out of the phone.

"Oh, hi Caitlin. No way could I forget your phone number," I laughed. "Did you have a nice Christmas break?" I replied as casually as I could.

"Yeah, it was great, very relaxing mostly. I needed it. But I missed you so much. I couldn't wait to get back and see you."

"Oh, did you just get back to campus? Are you back? When I didn't hear from you I figured you went home."

"Yeah, I got back late last night. I was so tired from the drive; it was after midnight. I slept late and called you as soon as I could."

She lied. I knew was back and unpacked by yesterday morning at the latest.

"Did you get anything special for Christmas?"

"Some clothes, some shoes, OK stuff. How about you."

"You got more shoes, huh?" I teased because I still don't think I ever saw the same pair of shoes on her feet twice. "I just stayed here. My family is kinda split up and far away. I was hoping you'd be back for New Year's Eve. I didn't have a date."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I so wanted to get back early but my Grandmother was staying over and she's getting old now and I wanted to spend some time with her. Then my car needed work, so I had to set that all up. One thing after another, I was stuck."

"As long as you are back now," I submitted and then let the silence hang there, heavily.

She broke the silence.

"Yeah, I'm back. Did you want to get together? But one thing, last semester I was like really flirty with you. I think I was totally infatuated with you. I want us to get together but slow, do stuff, get to know each other. You know what I mean?"

I knew exactly what she was trying to do. And I went right along with her.

"Oh, absolutely. I think it would be better to take things slow. What say we go to this great live music club I know. They have all kinds of music, jazz, funk, rock, all kinds. We can dance and have a few drinks and talk too."

"Hey that sounds great."

"To save me some money, I am but a poor grad student, and because I just bought this big roast, how about a little dinner before we head out."

"That'll be great. When do you want to do this?"

"Saturday, say 7 pm. It'll give us a chance to have a nice dinner and get to the club in time for the best acts. I'll email you my address and the directions."

"Steven, it's great to talk to you and be going out, too. I'll see you Saturday."

We said our goodbyes.

That was three days ago. A lot had been readied for her arrival. She was click-clacking in her high heels up my walkway. The time had arrived.

CLOP! CLOP! CLOP!

The metal doorknocker sounded.

I put my wineglass down and made my way to the door, I didn't hurry.

Through the peephole I saw her breath form transient clouds around her face. Her hair glowed like freshly minted pennies in the direct light of my entranceway. She shivered and reached for the doorknocker again. I immediately opened the door, I could see that she was cold.

"Caitlin, come in, it is so cold tonight."

"Hi Steven. My God, it's freezing out there."

"Well, I have a nice warm dinner ready for you. Take your coat off, I'll put it in the closet."

"Smells great."

Caitlin pulled off her coat and I could finally see what see was wearing.

No dress -- damn, but I was pretty sure she wouldn't wear one tonight.

All the better for what I had planned.

Instead she wore a sage-green long tunic top that covered her hips and light grey skin-tight leggings that went just below her knees. On her feet were black satin-like shoes with a two-inch heel and a single strap across the ankle. She looked very cute.

"Have a seat," I motioned to the leather couch, "I'll get you a glass of wine. Are those new shoes?"

We talked, only chatty small talk; but she was very entertaining. I kept her wineglass full.

We had dinner, she commented frequently about how good it was. She became a little bit flirty and comfortable. Our conversation became more relaxed with every glass of wine she drank. I never let her wineglass go empty. We had finished our dinner, the time had arrived.

"Before we go out I want to show you something," I stated.

I picked up two sheets of paper from the table in the living room. I stood behind the couch resting against the back of it. The couch was also a divider between the dining area and the living room. I was facing in Caitlin's direction and motioned her to join me.

She stood, "Whew, I had more wine than I am used to." And she unsteadily joined me. "What's that?" she asked as she leaned against the back of the couch next to me facing into the living room.

"A course syllabus."

"Which course?"

"World Political History; 1850 to 1930," I stated flatly as I looked at her.

"Oh, I'm taking that course," Caitlin replied with a hint of sweetness in her voice.

"Really? Then you might need this." and I offered her the syllabus.

As she took it from me I bent down and quickly took two pre-tied bandanas from under the couch and looped one around each ankle. The restraints were not yet engaged and lay loosely around each pretty foot.

"What are you doing?" she asked rather nonchalantly.

"And now look at this!" I exclaimed. But instead of handing the second sheet of paper to her I dropped it onto the couch seat cushions. Instinctively, and because of her alcohol-dulled reactions, she bent over the back of the couch to pick up the paper. I leaped over the couch, grasped her hands and pulled them toward the edge of the couch seat. Again, two readied bandanas were retrieved from under the couch. I circled each wrist with a bandana that was tied in a slip-hitch. I quickly pulled them tightly around the thinnest part of her wrist and then reached under the couch. There was a lever that connected to the now-tied bandanas via a heavy reinforced clothesline. When I pulled the lever her hands were yanked forward and down. My measurements were perfect. This had the effect of pulling her weight onto the backrest of the couch but leaving her feet on the floor. I returned quickly to the back of the couch and found, under it, the other lever. I pulled it. This, in the same manner, separated her feet widely and drew up her legs tightly to the back of the couch. Her feet were still on the floor.

I sat back for a second to admire my work. The truss worked perfectly and Caitlin was right where I wanted her.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" shouted Caitlin.

I went around to the front of the couch and said into her ear, "Let's play a game."

"Let me up!" she said directly down into the seat of the couch.

"OK, maybe a little later. But first we are going to play a game; perhaps a little truth or dare. Are you game?" I taunted.

"Let me up right this fuckin' minute!" she spat out.

"Hmmm, but we just started. I am holding the class roster for my section of World Political History; 1850 to 1930. Can you guess anyone who's in my class?"

That got her attention and she stopped struggling against the restraints "How would I know?"

"It's my turn to ask the questions. I'll start out a little easier. What class am I teaching this year?"

"I don't have any idea. Untie me!"

"What class are you taking in History this spring?"

"Steven, what the hell? I'm taking World Political History."

"Excellent! And the right under your nose is a World Political History class roster from this coming term. Again, is there anyone in that class you know?"

"I said I didn't know."

"Oh, come on now; I'll help. Let me start: Abdel, Cassidy, Chang, Dell'Arte, Franklin..., OK, enough clues. Who's next?"

"Huh?"

"Who would come after Franklin?"

"I don't know; someone whose name starts with a 'G'?"

"There are no names that start with 'G', try again."

"I have no idea, goddammit!"

"Hmmm, that does start with a 'G', but that's not a name. Let me try to jog your memory." I reached under the couch and pulled out my new pair of scissors. I snapped them open and shut a few times for effect.

Brushing the hair from around the back of her neck, I lifted the collar of her tunic top and began to cut noisily through her top.

"Are you cutting my hair?" she shrieked.

"Oh, absolutely not. You know I wouldn't harm a single hair on your head; your hair is just so...beautiful. I'm cutting your shirt off."

"NO!" Caitlin yelled but not as loudly as one might expect. She struggled again but the bindings held fast.

It took only a minute to make three cuts. One went down her back and bisected the garment. Two more cuts, one each down the length of her arms allowed her top to fall from her body. A dainty bra covered her hanging breasts. I slipped the straps off the fasteners that held them to the back strap and then unhooked the back. Her uncut bra fell away and I let it lie below her on the couch. I ran my hands over her back and around her waist; her skin was so smooth, so white, so perfect. I let my fingers slide over her ribcage; rising and falling like boats riding over rhythmic ocean swells. When they reached her breasts I could not resist a caress, a slight brush from the backs of my fingertips...what was that? Did I detect a shudder? Was she enjoying this?

Obscured from view, her nipples called to me. My fingers longed to take the bright pink tips between them and to pull and tease them to turgidity.

But no; she was not yet to find pleasure. Her torment was only beginning.

I stood up and walked around to the back of the couch. She was splayed over it, perfectly presented. I circled the elastic waistband of her leggings and then hooked it with my fingers.

"So, no one on that roster has a last name that starts with a 'G', what's the next letter?"

"'H'. Am I on that roster? Is the next name Hayes?" offered Caitlin.

"Bingo! Now that wasn't to hard when you put your mind to it, right? And here's the question for the bonus points, "Who might the instructor be for that particular class?" I chided while slowly easing the waistband down just enough that she would notice. "Hmmm?"

"I just don't know," she stated flatly.

"You don't know? Oh, Caitlin, come on now. Can't you take a guess?"

"Please, I really don't know."

I picked up the scissors and snapped them opened and closed twice.

"You leave me know choice, Caitlin." I lifted the delicate hem of the leggings and started to snip the thin fabric. It cut so easily.

"No, you can't do this. You have to stop."

"Sure I can do this, why I'm half done already." I cut the entire length from just below her knee all the way up the back of her leg, over her deliciously plump ass cheek and stopped in the middle of her lower back just before cutting through the thin elastic waistband. "Oh yeah, I got a little distracted by the view, what was the question again? Oh, yes; the name of your instructor, well?"

"I'm telling you that I don't know. I haven't had a chance to look at my schedule yet."

"Really? Classes start Monday; day after tomorrow. Cutting it kinda tight, no?" I laughed at the double meaning.

"I've been so busy; I just got back a few days ago."

I stretched the hem away from her calf and began cutting the cloth up the back of her other leg.

"What day was it that you called me?"

"Uhh, it was, uh, umm, Thursday, I think, yeah."

"It was Wednesday, you called me and said that you drove in late the night before. You can't remember the day you drove back here?" I completed the cut. When the new cut met the previous one at the waistband the middle part of her pants, the crotch section dropped away. The most delightful fragrance wafted up to my nose; a clean spicy musk with just a little female sweat and desire, heavenly.

"So what day did you get back here?"

"You're right, Wednesday; it's so hard to remember all these things when you've got me tied and you're cutting my clothes off."

"But so much depends on your answers; just like an exam," I instructed and then realized that she had not once tried to scream for help. She hadn't cried or pleaded behind a veil of tears. Snip! I cut through the thin elastic holding what remained of her tights around her. The narrow band around her waist snapped open exposing her gorgeous derriere. Because of the moderate spread of her legs, her asshole and pussy were nicely presented. Not pulled apart widely and unattractively. She was a picture. The shredded garment was caught between her hips and the couch. I tugged on it sideways until it pulled free.

"So tell me, Caitlin. Do you only wear thong underwear? Don't get me wrong, it looks great on you; shows off one of your best assets."

I fingered the straps and played the one between her buns in and out of its canyon. I left the thong in place and played circles on her ass with my hands. Her ass was sweet, the flesh so bouncy, the skin felt like raw silk, and a scent like freshly hewn cantaloupe. I wanted, to my very core, to drop to my knees and taste her. To lick every inch of her roundness and probe every depth with my fingers and tongue was my only yearning.

But no; she would not break my resolve.

A leather belt sat rolled and ready in the drawer of the end table, other things were there also. I took it, uncoiled it, and doubled it into a loose loop.

"Let me change to subject, Caitlin. Why did you not return any of my phone calls?"

"I was busy, you know, at home."

"And you got back here on...Wednesday. Is that right?"

"Yeah."

"I say you're lying. Care to tell me the truth? I must have called you a half-dozen times between terms. Did you care about how I felt?"

No answer. I slapped the wide leather belt across my palm. I did it to gauge how hard my blows should be and to let her know what was coming.

"NO!" Caitlin finally yelled.

SMACK! My first lash landed, in the middle, across both ass cheeks. A nice pinkness rose quickly.

"Ow! Stop!" But there was little desperation in her protest.

CRACK! Harder this time, and higher up, on her white untouched flesh. Soon red welts rose amid a deep pink field. Almost the right delivery, just a touch more speed.

FWAAPP!

"OUCH! No, no please, STOP!"

FWAAPP! Red welts formed on her quivering ass.

"When did you really get back Caitlin, or did you ever leave?"

FWAAPP!

"Owww! I left, I went home."

SMACK! This time with my hand and I could feel her punishment.

"Why didn't you call me then."

"I was busy."

"Too busy for me. Too busy for even a five minute call."

CRACK!

FWAAPP!

SMACK! SMACK!

I landed ten blows, her ass and upper thighs glowed red and showed raised welts. I played my fingertips over the sensitive flesh. I saw that the thong attached in the back with Velcro. One hip ribbon and the center ribbon attached to a pad of Velcro that was connected to the other hip strap. One could remove the thong without cutting. But it was much more fun to leave it here, for now. Caitlin struggled against the ties again.

"No need for that, my Sweet. Just tell me the truth about why you didn't call me and when you got back to campus."

There was no reply so I dropped to me knees and placed my lips to her warm ass. I licked her welted ass cheeks and then nipped them with my teeth.

"You see," I explained, "That I was here last Saturday and was enjoying a nice cup of coffee at the Starbucks just off campus." I stood up and raised the leather strap. I brought it down sharply across her posed derriere three more times. "And halfway through my breakfast, who do you think I saw?"

"I don't know, oh, stop, please."

She did not say it hurt her.

"Stop the denials! I saw you walk out the door of the building across the street. That is your apartment. You have been back for at least a week and did not call me. Not until the class assignments were emailed."

I raised the belt and delivered another three strong lashes to her sensitive ass. Her ass quivered and rippled with each blow. New pink and red welts appeared.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Oh, that hurts so much!"

I bent down and drew my tongue across marks that were the most red. I wanted it to seem like I was trying to ease the sting and confuse her, maybe, just a little.

"I want to know why you didn't call me when you said you would. What was all that boyfriend / girlfriend stuff about last term? And I want to know why you suddenly called me Wednesday? That's all. Quite straightforward."

"I already told you..." Caitlin continued to play this charade. I had to take the next step.

I went back around to the front of the couch. I sat down on the floor next to her. I rubbed my fingertips on her nipples. By tweaking and gently pinching them, they lengthened and thickened. Her nipples were so very responsive; both the nipples and aureola became distended and turgid. I heard a very soft cooing deep in Caitlin's throat. I reached back and remove two stout clothespins from end table drawer.

I did not show them to her. Silently I opened their jaws and positioned them at the girl's nipples. Slowly, ever so slowly, I allowed the pincers to close. At first she thought that my fingers had returned and I could hear her sigh. But then, as the gap closed, more and more pressure bore down on her tender nipples. Then as I released my grip on them, for the first time that night, she cried out. I looked at my handiwork. Her fat nipples were squashed between the wood splines. It looked painful.