David Vanishes

I would have done anything she asked of me, right then. But to seal the deal, she leaned forward and kissed me softly on the lips, staring into my eyes. 'I want to have you, David' she whispered in my ear. I could not resist. I said I'd meet her at the house the next night.

The five hour drive passed in a flash, as I spent the whole journey fantasising about the debauchery that lay ahead. I pictured Sophie's body bent into all kinds of obscene shapes, her face sticky with sweat, her perfect make-up smudged, her pretty French accent screaming disgusting things. Eventually I pulled up at the house. It was a small stone cottage, an old farmhouse, and there were so signs of life for miles around. Letting myself in with the key Sophie gave me, I made my way to the bedroom and waited. I undressed and got into bed. An hour later I heard the front door.

Quiet footsteps. And then the door creaked open. In the soft light I saw Sophie standing at the foot of the bed, a playful smirk on her face.

'I'm so excited' she breathed.

'Me too' I answered. I watched as she peeled off her sweater and her jeans, and she let me take a long look at her standing there in her black bra and panties. Giggling she slipped in to the bed beside me, and I was in heaven. We didn't speak. Her soft hands were all over me, caressing me, her lips kissing my face, my neck, my chest. I grabbed handfuls of her firm young flesh and ran my fingers over her perfect body, moaning in pleasure, trying to turn her over on to her back. But she stayed on top of me, her breasts pressing against me, her long hair tickling my skin.

'Sophie...' I began but she put a finger to my lips, silencing me. We paused, our bodies heaving together. My hips bucked involuntarily and she gasped as she felt my stiff cock pressing against her thigh.

'I've waited so long for this, David' she breathed. I was about to agree but something wasn't right -- Sophie had stopped her writhing, and the softness had gone from her eyes. In fact she was -- yes -- she was grinning. Before I could say anything the door slammed open and something came into the room.

Men. Four large men. I tried to shout but Sophie's hand was already pressed over my mouth. I started to struggle but in a flash Sophie had sprung from the bed and the four men were upon me, pinning me down. I thrashed about but they were powerful, and as I started to shout at the top of my voice, I felt a huge blow across my face. I was stunned and couldn't get up.

'Get him ready' I dimly heard Sophie say. I willed myself to get up, to escape, but my muscles were sluggish. As I struggled to regain myself, I was rolled on to my side and my arms were pulled painfully behind my back. Something cold and rough was being wrapped around my wrists. They were tying me up!

I started screaming now, trying to see what had happened to Sophie, but she was out of sight. More restraints -- it was leather, I could feel -- were wrapped tightly around my elbows, pinning my arms together. Now they were tying my ankles, and my calves, my knees, my thighs. I was shouting for help. The men climbed off me and I tried to struggle, realising in horror that they had also tied my ankles to my wrists behind my back, and I was utterly helpless. All I could do was thrash about uselessly on my side. Now I saw Sophie. She was standing next to the bed, still in her underwear, looking down at me.

'Please, Sophie, help me!' I pleaded. She regarded me coldly.

'Shut him up' she said. It was an order -- the men were following her orders! The first stirrings of a deep, dark terror gripped me. On her word, two of the men grabbed me and forced my mouth open. Another stuffed something cold and hard between my lips. My mind reeled as I realised it was a ball-gag, like something from an S&M film. I was helpless to stop them as they popped the gag into place and buckled its straps behind my head, securing it.

Next they pressed foam plugs into my ears, sealing them into place with some kind of tape. They left me there for a minute, wailing into my gag and straining against my bonds. Sophie was talking to them, but all I could hear was blood pumping in my head. Then she was kneeling down in front of me, her face level with mine. I stared into her eyes in naked terror, my face soaked with sweat, my mouth painfully distended. Unbelievably, she was smiling at me. The same sweet smile she'd given me that morning at breakfast. She licked her lips and I felt my dick stiffen. Her lips moved, another order, and then one of the men approached me holding a horrific leather hood. As I screamed into my gag for all my worth, he forced it roughly down over my head. I was plunged into total darkness and silence. The mask was hot and tight, with only two small holes over the nostrils for air.

Unable to see or hear anything, my mind was racing. Was this one of Sophie's games? I knew she was a predator, but this seemed extreme, even for her. I'd heard about women who got off on this kind of thing, staging kidnapping scenes, picking up victims and scaring them for fun. Desperately clinging to any rational explanation, I tried to slow my heart beat as I told myself that surely the game would be over soon. I stopped kicking about -- it was useless, and I was only tiring myself out.

Moments later, I felt myself being rolled over on to a new, smooth surface. It felt like canvas. Then I was aware of something being pressed together over my feet, my legs, my waist, moving upwards. I realised with a horrible shock what was happening -- they were zipping me into some kind of bag. The bag was zipped right up over my head and I could now feel the warm closeness of the canvas material all around me. It was incredibly hot. I was sweating profusely and finding it difficult to breathe -- I prayed there were air holes in the bag too. What kind of sick game was I involved in?

Then I felt the first blow. A powerful punch, or kick, slammed me in the face. I screamed in pain but of course no sound came out. Then another, in my chest. And another, and another. Punches raining down on my helpless, tied up, bagged up body. Why were they doing this? I was crying now, in pain and in fear and in confusion. I was winded and finding it difficult to breathe. Eventually, I think, I blacked out.

The next thing I was aware of was being carried. The men were carrying the bag, holding me by my legs and waist, with my head hanging uncomfortably down behind. I felt myself being carried down the stairs and outside. Even through the thick bag I was aware of the cold night air. Where was Sophie, I wondered? Why was she doing this to me? I remembered my excitement as I'd driven down here, into her trap, and cursed my stupid, adolescent crush. Then I was dropped and hit a hard surface. There was a muffled thump and then a throbbing sound, and then I was moving again. Oh my god, I thought, feeling sick. They've put me in the boot of the car.

I had already completely lost track of time. How long ago had the men burst in? Hours? As the car sped through the night, my disorientation grew to insane levels. Where was I? Where were they taking me? Why was this happening? I started crying again. It was getting hotter and hotter in the bag and breathing was difficult. I started to panic, thinking perhaps they were going to leave me in here to die. I thought of Emily and my family back home, what they'd think if they knew what was happening to me, and sobbed again in shame.

I have no idea how long we drove for. I passed out several times from the heat and exhaustion. Eventually I was dimly aware of being lifted out of the boot and carried again through the cold night air. The temperature changed and I realised I was indoors again. I was being carried downstairs. The staircase was long and the air had grown cool by the time we reached the bottom. The men paused and then threw me to the floor. The floor was cold, hard: stone. Barely able to catch my breath, I moaned in pain again as they started kicking me in the stomach. I needed to vomit but knew that was fatal, with the gag in. I heard a muffled thud that may have been a heavy door slamming shut and then I was alone.

I tested my muscles. Severe cramp was starting to set in to my arms and legs, and the pain was matched by the ache from my bruised, beaten body. My breathing was ragged and I was drenched in sweat. Trying one last time to break out of the cruel restraints, I screamed in agony and lay, exhausted, defeated, panting, on the cold stone floor. As I lost consciousness again, I imagined Sophie's innocently smiling face smirking at me.

Chapter 3

How long they left me for on the floor, I have no idea. I was drifting in and out of consciousness, the severe pain in my unnaturally positioned arms not allowing me to sleep. Eventually, I was aware of hands on me, and then the bag was unzipped. Were they going to release me? I didn't dare think my ordeal was over. And sure enough, I barely had time to appreciate the cool air on my naked skin before I was hauled off the floor and dragged, my feet scraping painfully on the stone floor. I was pushed forward and felt something hard, like wood, under my chest. The plugs still stuffed in my ears under the hood, I could hear almost nothing, except muffled voices.

Now, in this new position, leaning forward, I felt my arms being untied. A surge of relief passed through me momentarily, even though my arms were so cramped I couldn't even move them. But almost instantly, they stretched my arms out either side of me, and then I felt more restraints being applied. Groaning in helplessness, I had no choice but to submit as my arms were lashed again, tightly, painfully, to some kind of frame. Within minutes they had let go of me and I tried to move my arms but they were completely immobile. Then they repeated the process with my legs, first releasing them and then re-applying some kind of restraint. I felt my legs being pulled out and spread behind me, so I was leaning forward in a kind of star shape, my four limbs stretched out around me.

Suddenly I had a terrifying image: of the boy I'd seen on Sophie's DVD. He had been in the same position I was now in. A wave of panic passed through me and I tried to struggle. It was useless -- I could barely move at all. I felt a hand slap my bare ass and I shivered, shut my eyes, and tried not to cry.

Then nothing. Had they gone? I couldn't hear anything of course. Time passed, and I realized I had been left alone again. At least this position was slightly more bearable than being trussed up in the bag, and I concentrated on getting used to the steady, numb pain. I passed out again.

There were voices, movements around me. I started and tried to struggle again, to let them know I was here, that I was not defeated. I wanted to show these people, whoever they were, that I had fight in me. I steeled myself by thinking about what I would do to them all when I was released. These bastards were so wrong if they thought I was just going to roll over and submit to them.

Incredibly, I felt the hood being untied and pulled off me, and the ear plugs were removed. I blinked my eyes furiously, trying to adjust to the first light I'd seen in a long time. I was in a room, a cellar I guessed. It was small, stone walled and floored, with no windows. There was a single source of light coming from behind me somewhere. I moved my head from side to side, the painful, large gag still causing me considerable discomfort. I was strapped to a large cross-shaped wooden frame, just like the one I'd seen in Sophie's film. My arms and legs were secured to the beams of the frame by a ridiculous number of thin, tight leather straps, far more than were necessary to simply restrain me. I realized then, that the purpose of the excessive straps was not just to stop me from escaping, but to reinforce quite how helpless I was, and my heart sank. The centre piece of the frame supported the weight of my body and I could move my head freely, although it was painful to do anything other than just let it hang down.

'Hello David. Thanks for joining us' I suddenly heard Sophie say. I heaved my head up and saw her sitting, cross legged, a few feet in front of me. Her skirt was even shorter than usual and she was beaming at me. My mind reeled, desperately trying to make some sense of what was happening. I groaned loudly into the gag and thrashed about in my restraints -- or tried to. My actual movements were minimal and apparently amusing, because Sophie giggled.

'Please do keep trying to struggle like that, it's very interesting to watch' she smiled. 'Poor David....you must be incredibly confused right now. Are you?'

I nodded pathetically.

'And scared?' she asked, her eyes flashing. I nodded again, furious with her for this humiliating inquiry.

'Good. And in pain?' The tenderness with which she asked this last question brought a tear to my eye and despite my best efforts to appear defiant, I let out a little sob. Sophie stood up and took a few steps towards me.

'Confused, frightened, and in pain -- perfect. I want you to get used to these feelings David, because from now on, they are all you will ever know.' I thought I hadn't heard her right. What on earth did she mean? She was clearly taking this game, or whatever it was, very seriously. I was in no position to object, or protest, so I simply did nothing.

She stared at me for a moment. The room was silent apart from my heavy, ragged breathing and the occasional creak from the wooden frame as I tried to stretch my cramped muscles. Then Sophie nodded. And out of nowhere, I felt an intense, burning pain across my buttocks. I howled into my gag, looking up at Sophie in panic only to see her smiling at me, before I heard a 'swish' and another stab of pain. Someone was spanking me with what felt like a knife. Tears welled up in my eyes as whoever it was behind me rained down blow after blow on my helpless, exposed ass. My whole body shook in its restraints and soon I was wailing like a child. The assault was relentless. I lost count of how many times I was lashed -- 50? 100? -- and all the while Sophie gazed down on me with a look of cool fascination. The room started to swim in front of my eyes as my mind was filled with pain. And then the blows stopped.

I was left gasping for breath, unable to feel my legs above the thigh, and in a world of misery and pain. Sophie leaned in close and whispered in my ear.

'No explanation.' And with that she turned around and, to my horror, picked up the hood. I shook my head violently -- surely she wasn't going to put me back in it, after all that? I was babbling nonsense into my gag now, begging her not to even though I knew I couldn't be heard. I tried to convey my fear with my eyes but she was oblivious as she pulled the thick, awful hood down over my shaking head and locked it off. Plunged back into near-silence and darkness, the pain from my buttocks slowly moving from a hot sting to a numb ache, I started to cry like a baby.

Sophie didn't come back for a few days. After the first beating I was left alone for what felt like a very long time. Occasionally I would be aware of someone moving around me, no doubt cleaning up the mess underneath me, since I had no way of controlling my bowels. Every now and then someone would pull the hood up above my mouth, remove my gag, let me spit out whatever gunk and vomit had accumulated in my mouth, and feed me water and some disgusting, tasteless food. I was too exhausted to ask questions and was thankful even for this pitiful nourishment. The people who moved around me in this period didn't only come to clean or feed me though. I was subjected to seemingly totally random tortures and treatments.

Sometimes I felt sharp things being attached to sensitive parts of my body -- pegs, or clamps, or needles on my nipples, my inner thighs, my neck and my genitals. There were more beatings, usually on my ass, but sometimes, like on that first day, blows rained down at random over my whole body. Pain was my constant companion and I began to lose my grip on reality. My early questions about why I was here, what Sophie was planning, when they were going to release me, slowly started to evaporate, as it was all I could do to try to summon up the mental strength to endure the torture. I didn't do very well. Sophie's last words, 'no explanation,' echoed cruelly in my ears, until they took on the power of a mantra. In my more lucid moments I reasoned that sooner or later, they had to release me. People would be looking for me. I thought miserably of Emily and how scared -- and angry -- she must be right now, not having heard from me for days. With a pang of shame and self-loathing I also realized that had I been faithful to the woman I said I loved, I wouldn't even be in this predicament.

Chapter 4

I have no idea how long it was before Sophie returned. But eventually she did. The hood was removed, but not the gag of course. As ever, she was radiant, and she was smiling sweetly.

'You look terrible David, a real mess' she taunted. 'That means my boys have been doing a good job.' Her jauntiness made me sick in my stomach -- it was the obvious relish with which she humiliated me that made it that much more crushing. I knew that if I let her see how frightened I was, she got what she wanted, and if I tried to hide it, she got what she wanted. The unfairness of my situation nearly made me weep again.

'I have no idea what they've been doing to you in here, but I told them they could do whatever they wanted. As long as there was no permanent damage. That comes later.' Her eyes flashed and the panic overtook me again.

She was moving around the room, and then I saw there were others with her, large men -- probably the same large men who brought me here. They wheeled a TV screen in front of me. Sophie pulled a chair up next to me and sat down facing the screen.

'By now I hope you've realized how helpless you are?' she inquired. I hung my head dejectedly, and this made her smile. 'Of course you have. But I want to make sure you understand: you have no chance of escaping from here.' A tear fell from my eye. 'Good. Well, just in case you've been waiting for someone -- your lovely girlfriend maybe' (at this the guards sniggered, disconcertingly) 'I want to show you something.' She pressed a button on a remote and the screen came to life.

I lifted my weary head and what I saw chilled me to the bone. It was a news report, in French. The date on the bottom of the screen was from a few days after I had driven down to meet Sophie. The pictures showed a car, parked near a deserted, windswept beach. With a sickening jolt I realized it was the car I'd hired. Next the camera showed a policeman talking, and gesturing over a table of clothes. They were my clothes. I shook my head, not daring to believe what I was seeing. My French was not good enough to understand what was going on but I heard my name. I looked over at Sophie who was staring at the screen, biting her lip in rapt attention, with one hand between her mini-skirted legs. She reached up absent-mindedly and pushed my face back towards the screen.

The pictures changed. Now it was a British news programme. It was some kind of press conference. I saw my parents, and Emily, sitting between police officers, their faces tear-stained, and I nearly blacked out with despair. 'Please come home, if you're out there' sobbed Emily to the cameras as flash bulbs popped. The screen went black.

I wanted to die. Sophie grabbed my chin between two fingers and lifted my head so I was forced to look at her. She was staring at me, fascinated, as if she was determined to understand the depths of my misery.

'The suicide note we posted to Emily arrived a few days after that press conference' she said matter-of-factly. I was barely able to take in what she was saying.