tagNonConsent/ReluctanceCaptured and Enslaved Ch. 02

Captured and Enslaved Ch. 02


As soon as the van made its quick getaway, I was roughly pulled to my knees, and my elbows were bound together behind me, thrusting my small breasts out. The bra was still twisted beneath them, pushing them up like an offering. The plug stretched my ass uncomfortably, making me squirm.

"Welcome to captivity," Paul chuckled, motioning to the dim interior of the van. "It only gets worse from here."

His words had the desired disheartening effect on me. I could feel my spirits sinking. Don't give up, I admonished myself, trying to bolster my flagging confidence. Don't give them what they want.

"Hey Paul," Matt asked. "Did the boss say anything about not touching her on the ride back?"

"You know the rules. Nothing involving your dick, and obviously nothing that will permanently damage her. Otherwise, I don't care what the hell you do back there."

Matt turned to look at me, a grin spreading across his face. I met his look with my horrified gaze. Hadn't I been through enough already? I tried to say something through the gag in my mouth, but he pounced on me, his movements rough. His hands roughly groped me, pulling on my breasts and squeezing them until I whimpered through the gag.

"Jordan, you want any of this?" he asked. No, not two of them.

Jordan clambered back to us, pushing me down onto the floor without a word. With no warning, his thick finger speared me. I rose up off the floor with a cry before I was pushed back down by Matt.

"Fuck, dude, she's a virgin." Jordan hissed. My face burned with shame. I was nineteen and attractive, but still a virgin. I had been raised in the church of the Lord, where we were taught that our bodies were a temple, and that we must remain pure before marriage. Since meeting Lee, the pastor's son, we had slowly slipped away from that principle, but we hadn't done it yet.

"It's okay," Matt assured him. "We've got a lot more than her pussy to entertain us." With that, he slid two strong hands under my body and flipped me over. Now I couldn't see what they were doing, and I was well aware of my butt sticking up in the air.

I thrashed about as soon as I felt the dildo in my ass move. One of them pressed down on my back with one hand, forcing me to stop. Slowly, he drew it out. I moaned, trying to squirm away from them. It hurt, but it was more of a sensual pain. It was an odd feeling.

I was relieved when it was all of the way out. I could feel my asshole contracting, trying to return to normal. Now I knew that I was naïve in the ways of sex, but getting aroused by playing with someone's poop hole seemed perverted, to say the least. I could only hope that it was a fetish of these particular men and that no one else I would encounter would want to go there.

All thoughts were driven from my mind as the warm head of the dildo nuzzled up against my asshole again. He didn't work it in slowly like Matt had. He shoved it in with one forceful push, leaving my body to do the adjusting on its own. I groaned into the gag, but it didn't hurt like it had the first time. That didn't mean that it wasn't uncomfortable though.

"All right, guys, that's enough." Paul called my attackers off of me. They reluctantly stood up, leaving me panting on the floor, still uncomfortably bound.

"We've got a long ride ahead of us, and the boss just called to tell us to let her rest. He wants her fresh."

Jordan and Matt grumbled as they left me. My jaw ached from the balled up gag, and my arms were already beginning to cramp. Rest. Yeah right. No one could sleep like this. Still, it was better than being molested further. I settled down and closed my eyes.

Lee. Please come and get me, I whispered in my thoughts. Just thinking of his dear face brought tears to my eyes.

The van jerked to a halt, and I woke up with a start. I wasn't sure if I had been asleep or just dozing, but my protesting muscles let me know that I had been here for several hours.

"Come on, slut, time to look at your new home," Paul grunted as he clambered into the back of the van. I was still lying face-down on the metal floor when he wrapped his hands around my waist and lifted me to my knees. I stumbled to my feet as he pushed me forward, barely avoiding falling on my face.

The back doors swung open and Jordan and Matt were waiting for me.

"Take it easy," Jordan cautioned me. "We don't want you falling and getting scraped up at the very end."

They each took a shoulder and practically lifted me out, steadying me on my feet. In front of me was a large house, illuminated by strategically placed yard lights. Whoever owned it was obviously well-off, but it wasn't a palace. I was relieved at how normal the mansion looked. Perhaps it wouldn't be that hard to escape from. Trees surrounded it and stretched out into the distance as far as I could see. It was secluded, but once I escaped, I was sure that I could follow this road back without much trouble.

They marched me forward, Paul leading the way up to the large white double doors. He lifted the iron knocker and tapped it against the door three times, almost timidly. About two minutes passed, and I was beginning to think that no one was home.

A pretty little maid opened the door. My face reddened as I remembered my lack of modesty. My pussy was fully exposed but for the dark bush of hair that obscured it. My breasts were sore from lying on the twisted wire of the bra for several hours.

"Please, come in," she said, as if nothing were out of place. She stepped aside and ushered the four of us to the middle of the entryway. Before us was a staircase that curved out of sight, undoubtedly leading to the railing of the balcony of the second floor above us.

The clicking of heels brought my attention back to the maid. She was walking away, probably to call her master. I took a deep breath. This was it. I had to make a strong impression. I would not let him (or her) walk all over me. My nose wrinkled in disgust as I had a thought. What if it was some elderly pervert? I shuddered, thinking of the bent and wrinkled body I would be forced to service.

"Gentlemen, forgive my rudeness. I didn't expect you to arrive so soon, and I was filling out a few forms to pass the time." A fascinating male accent entered the room from the side.

Our faces turned towards the left, where the maid followed the man who was speaking. Dark brown hair was gelled into a modern messy style, and his blue eyes were cool. His confident posture and charismatic tone made me hate him instantly. I knew instinctively that this was the man who had kidnapped me.

He stopped in front of me, taller than I by about three inches, placing him at around six foot one. His lean body was wrapped in black casual slacks and an open white shirt, exposing toned muscles. He would be tough to overpower, but if I got the jump on him, perhaps it would be possible.

His icy eyes traveled down my body, taking in everything. A chill rippled over my skin as a result of his close examination. He finally met my glare, and a smile quirked his mouth.

"Very good, just what I expected. I'm glad to see that you didn't take too many liberties with her." His statement held a sternness that made my captors swallow. He sounded like he may have been from England or Australia.

Too many liberties, I snorted mentally. They took liberties all right.

"If you don't mind, sir, we do have to be back in Kaufman by morning," Matt said, shifting from foot to foot. I could understand his angst. This man seemed to bring that out purposefully. I forced myself to stand straight in front of him.

"Of course. The fee was a thousand for each of you, correct?" He reached into his pants pocket and withdrew the cash, tossing it to Paul.

"Thanks for your business," Paul said, shoving it into his pocket. The man nodded, and with that, the thugs were dismissed.

"I am Tristan," he said, pausing before me with his hands deep in his pockets. I was gagged, or I would have spat at him.

He chuckled at my furious demeanor. "I was hoping to get started on this tomorrow, but perhaps it is just as well that we begin now. Jacqui," he turned to the diminutive maid. "Please go back to bed. I'm sorry for waking you."

She smiled at him and inclined her head, turning and ascending the massive staircase.

"Shall we begin?" Tristan asked, reaching for me. I back away, determined not to go easily. I owed it to myself to resist. I wasn't some cheap toy he could jerk around.

"I see how it is going to be," Tristan shrugged. "If that's how you want it, I am only too happy to oblige."

He reached forward and grabbed the rope that bound my elbows together behind my back, jerking me forward. I screamed into the gag as the pain shot through my complaining muscles. Effortlessly, he pushed me ahead of him, leading me through the house. He didn't slow down even when we came to a flight of stairs, and I was forced to lean back on him for balance.

Downstairs was a shock. There was no lush carpet, no sleek furniture, no expensive paintings. In fact, it was as if the designer had purposefully made it as uncomfortable as possible. The floor was concrete, cold to my bare feet even though it was the middle of summer in Texas. The walls were a dull gray metal, laden with hooks and steel shelves. Displayed everywhere were instruments of torture.

Breath, I told myself. It's just an intimidation technique. Don't let him get to you.

Tristan pushed me forward until I was standing under a hook on a chain. My arms fell limply forward as he cut the binding off of them. As he stepped around in front of me, I swung weakly at his face. He gave me an exasperated look as he caught my fist and lifted it above my head.

"I hope you still have some of this spunk tomorrow," he commented, catching my other hand and joining it to the first. He snapped leather cuffs around my wrists and slipped the attached ring onto the hook. With a small crank to the side, he lifted me up until I was stretched out, barely able to stand on my toes.

He reached forward and pried the gag out of my mouth. I worked the kinks out of my jaw, grateful to have the nasty thing gone.

"I haven't properly introduced myself, have I?" he asked, sitting on what appeared to be a large cage in front of me. "There is not much that you need to know. I am Tristan, your new master."

I snorted at that. Really, was he serious?

He smiled briefly at my reaction. "I will let that slide for now, Emory, but be more careful in the future."

I paled at his use of my name. This wasn't a random kidnapping. He knew who I was, and he had plans for me, specifically.

"Yes, I know who you are," he said, his sinister voice sending chills down my spine. "I know that you're a beautiful girl who has been sexually deprived for the past few years. I know that you've kept yourself pure for your future husband, technically speaking that is." He leaned closer. "I know that you play with yourself almost every night, when you think you're locked away in your room. I've seen you do it, Emory. Which is why I think you're going to respond very well to my particular tastes."

Shame colored my features at his mention of nightly habits. How could such a gross invasion of privacy have gone unnoticed by me?

"Respond? Do you have some Christian Grey complex?" I jeered with false bravado. "Bringing the innocent girl to her sexual awakening? Plying me with orgasms and erotic torture until I beg for your touch?"

"I'm not the one who is delusional, if that's what you're asking." He stood up and walked to the wall, where a whip with many tails was hanging. "And I'm afraid that this won't be very pleasurable for you."

He took two long strides towards me and ripped off my bra, leaving me totally naked. He swung the whip, splaying the tails over my stomach. I gasped at the pain, totally unprepared for it.

"Christian Grey is a fictional being, what women like to think a sadist is like." He whipped me again, harder this time. "It's not quite so pretty as that."

He cracked the whip against my breasts, making tears come to my eyes. I endured the next several blows before I couldn't contain the agony anymore.

"Stop, please!"

He paid no attention, just delivered a stinging blow to the backs of my thighs.

"Please!" I begged. "What do you want from me?"

Tristan paused, and I breathed out a sigh of relief.

"At the moment, I want nothing from you. That's the beauty of it. There is nothing that you can say, nothing you can do, no information or pleas that you can come up with that will stop this beating." He stepped closer to my face, on eye level with me. His cold eyes bored into mine, and I was helpless to look away.

"I'm whipping you because I like it. It brings me pleasure. There is no other reason. Such is the fate of a slave. I suggest you get used to it. You are here solely for my amusement. I will do to you whatever I feel like doing."

To prove his point, he reached around my stretched body and found the plug in my ass. With no hesitation, he yanked it out.

I threw back my head and howled in pain at the ceiling. It felt like he had turned my ass inside out. I halfway expected to see blood on the dildo when he brought it around, but there was none to be seen. He tossed it aside and again picked up his flogger.

"Please, no," I whispered, tears dripping down my face.

He gave me a sympathetic look, and I thought that perhaps he had softened. The crack of the whip as he brought it up against my pussy lips changed my mind instantly. No matter how much I cried or screamed, there was not another respite until Tristan decided that he was sufficiently satisfied. So I gritted my teeth and tried to bear the welts I could feel rising all over my body.

When he stopped, I sagged in my restraints. Fire raced along my body, licking at the red raised skin.

"Did you get some rest on the ride here?" Tristan asked nonchalantly, turning to put the whip back where it belonged.

Cautiously I nodded. He was so unpredictable. First he was lashing me as hard as he could, and then he was speaking to me as if concerned about my wellbeing.

"Good. I have something then to keep your mind occupied with for the night." He turned to face me, and I noticed the flags of color that tinted his prominent cheekbones. I didn't know if it was from arousal or exertion. He held up a thin vibrator that dangled a battery pack on a short tail.

"This is no ordinary device," he said in answer to my questioning look. In truth, I had always been curious about vibrators, but I had never bought one for myself. This didn't seem so bad.

"I'm not always cruel and wicked," Tristan said, interpreting my expression. "Actually, I supposed I am. You won't be liking this little thing come morning."

He spread my legs forcefully with his knee, sliding the slim vibrator up into my pussy. It felt like a tampon. He taped the battery pack to my leg and stepped back.

"With this," he held up a remote for me to inspect. "I can control the strength of the vibrations." He turned it on, and soft tingles ran through my pussy as it came to life. I relaxed a little bit. This wouldn't be so bad.

"I modified this vibrator myself. When your pussy contracts, the vibrations will slow down. When it relaxes, the vibrations become stronger." He set the remote down and pressed a button. Immediately, the vibrations picked up, charging my relaxed pussy. Now I was beginning to realize his little game. But still, it wasn't nearly as bad as another whipping would be. He smiled knowingly when I regained a bit of my defiance, staring him down. He reached over and adjusted the crank, lowering the chain until I could stand flat-footed.

"Have a pleasurable night," he said sinisterly before leaving the same way we had come in. The metal door at the top of the stairs clanged shut, leaving me alone.

Tristan hadn't lied to me about the device. I didn't fight the pleasant tingles that raced through me as I built towards an orgasm. Sweat beaded on my brow as my breathing increased. I shifted position slightly, pressing my legs together and contracting on the vibrator. Immediately, the sensations diminished.

"Shit," I growled, angry at myself for ruining my orgasm. I waited patiently until the vibrator resumed its earlier pace. This time, I was more patient. I forced my trembling legs to stay straight as I waited for it. I let my head fall backwards as the sensations became too strong to bear. I moaned as the climax approached. Just a little more, just a little more. I could feel my pussy contracting, preparing for release.

The vibrator stopped. Just like that, it cut off all ministrations. I almost screamed in frustration as I was left on the edge. My pussy quivered, trying to find that extra bit to push me over the edge. I tried to squirm my hands out of the cuffs, but it was useless. Gradually, my body relaxed, drawing farther and farther away from release. I sagged, wanting to lie down. I jerked upright as the vibrator once again came to life, triggered by the relaxation of my body.

"No," I moaned. Now I was understanding Tristan's little diabolical device. Even pleasure had been twisted by his sadistic mind. In fact, I was sure that the bastard was watching somehow, probably jerking off before he went to sleep. I looked around for a camera, knowing that there were probably several around. There it was, mounted on the ceiling, staring down at me with its one eye.

"Fuck you!" I shouted at it. Being a church girl my whole life, I had never said anything so vulgar before. I was a little shocked, but it was overcome by anger. I repeated the phrase, venting my frustration. The camera stared back unsympathetically. A bead of sweat began sliding down in between my breasts as the pace picked up again. This was going to be an unbearably long night.

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