Kidnapped

It was dark, but not late when her silver Firebird pulled up outside her apartment. She'd forgotten to leave any lights on, and, of course, she never locked her doors--typical. Her nature was both too trusting and too certain of her own invincibility. She fumbled with the doorknob. Once she got the door open, she struggled inside, her arms too full with books to bother with the light switch.

She made it a whole three steps into the living room before she was seized from behind. She gasped in surprise as a hand grabbed her throat and an arm snaked around her waist. She tried to drop to her knees to escape her attacker, but her efforts only resulted in her being dragged roughly back to her feet by her hair. She tried to bite, to elbow him, but each time her attempts were thwarted. It was almost like he was toying with her, amusing himself. Suddenly, her mouth and nose were covered with plastic. She fought, tried to breathe. In very short order, her vision started blurring, and her efforts to struggle became weaker and weaker. And then she blacked out.

She awoke, naked, bound, gagged, and blindfolded. Her hands were tied behind her back. Another rope was tied around her arms, farther up, joining her elbows in the middle of her back. Her feet were bound together as well, and more rope circled her knees. She lay on her side, her hair in disarray all around her. She wondered what had happened to her clothes and, strangely, attempted to suppress a hysterical giggle. She tried to look around the blindfold, but couldn't. Something leather encircled her throat tightly, restricting her breathing. Something else that felt strangely like the material of the panties she'd been wearing earlier was stuffed in her mouth and held in place with tape. There was a gentle rocking motion beneath her, and she surmised that she was in the backseat of a car. She tried to free herself surreptitiously, hoping to avoid detection by whoever was driving.

He'd been watching her in the rearview mirror the whole time, waiting for her to awaken. He smirked when he saw her move. "You might as well stop pretending you aren't awake, Miranda," he growled at her.

She stiffened. Just because she recognized the voice, it didn't make her feel any better.

"It's just as well that you're awake, anyway," he continued, "because we're here."

The car stopped. Miranda wondered briefly how she was supposed to go anywhere tied as she was. She heard a door open, close, and another open. He tugged her toward him, then lifted her not-so-small frame effortlessly, threw her body over his shoulder, and carried her inside. After closing the door behind him, he roughly pushed her to her knees in front of him.

"Here you are, slut," he snarled at her. He slapped her hard across the face, once, twice, thrice. Miranda whimpered, and her chin sank down to rest on her chest. He tangled his fingers in her hair and jerked her head back so she would've been looking at him if she could've seen past the blindfold. He ripped the gag from her mouth, pulling skin off her tender lips. She heard him unzip his pants, heard the fumble of cloth as he pulled out his cock. He pushed it to her lips, and she took it hungrily in her mouth. She started to bob her head up and down on his cock, but his hand on the back of her head stopped her. He shoved it into her mouth until her chin rested on his balls. She tried not to gag. Suddenly, her mouth was full of a warm, salty liquid that was decidedly not his cum.

My God, she thought, he's pissing in my mouth. She did gag this time, but her mouth was rapidly filling with his urine. He held a hand under her jaw to prevent her from opening her mouth and spilling. She choked, faced with the decision of swallowing or drowning. She swallowed. He wasn't finished, of course. She swallowed four more times before he was done. When he stopped, he pulled his now-wet cock out of her mouth and wiped it dry on her face. He looked at her and smirked at the black eyeliner smeared across her face, wet from the saliva and urine.

He slapped her again. "Filthy whore," he growled at her.

Miranda hung her head, grateful for the blindfold, her long, thin dark hair falling over her face and chest. She heard the faint clinking of a belt buckle and the unmistakable sound of the belt being pulled from the belt loops. She had just enough time to throw her head back out of the way before the first blow fell across her left breast. She tried to scream, but even without the gag, she couldn't make much noise.

He watched her face as he whipped her with his belt. Each lick brought an angry red welt to the surface of her soft, pale skin. She tried to struggle, tried to fight him, but her bonds greatly curtailed any effort she made. He pushed her shoulders, and she fell back, landing hard on the floor. Miranda tried to rise back to her knees, but his foot on her throat stopped her. He turned his attention to her stomach, whipping her mercilessly. The blows rained down, faster, harder, and she made a noise that was half-scream, half-choke. He worked his way down her body, the first stroke of the belt against her tender inner thighs brought forth a strangled sob from her lips.

"No, please," she begged, her voice a mere whisper.

He ignored her and continued to ravage her thighs with the belt. Already, bruises were forming on her breasts. Tears streamed down her face, in spite of the blindfold. He turned a deaf ear to her feverish pleas for mercy. She screamed and sobbed, the sounds coming out an odd mix between the two. He beat her thighs as hard as he could.

"Shut up, you stupid bitch," he ordered her, increasing the pressure on her throat.

She made a panic-stricken, gagging noise, trying to draw more air into her lungs. He lashed her across first her right nipple, then her left one. She wheezed out a cry.

Abruptly, he removed his foot from her throat and hauled her to her feet. The entire front side of her body was darkening with bruises. He untied the ropes binding her feet and knees and forced her to walk forward. She tried, with trembling knees, to obey. He guided her into the bedroom and positioned her beside the bed. He untied her hands, replaced the ropes with cuffs, and placed cuffs around her ankles as well. He selected two lengths of rope and placed one beneath one of her reddened breasts. She flinched.

"You remember this, don't you?" he asked her, pulling the rope tightly against her breast.

She wept in anguish as he wrapped the rope around first one breast and then the other. The rope bit into her soft skin, pinching her flesh, and further bruising the already-bruised tissues. He looked at the finished product. Her large breasts were deep purple and engorged. She thought they'd explode any minute now. Her turned her to face the bed.

"Lay down," he commanded in a voice that brooked no disobedience.

Miranda slowly, painfully, climbed onto the bed. She sat down and tried to lay on her back.

"Not that way, bitch!" he snarled at her and pushed her over on her stomach, on her swollen, aching, bound breasts.

She squirmed, trying to find a more comfortable position.

"Be still," he ordered coldly.

He tied each cuffed hand to the headboard and spread her legs wide. Her feet, too, he secured, so widely that her hips began to cramp almost immediately. He forced three fingers in her cunt, not surprised to find her dripping wet. She gasped in surprise. He pulled his fingers out and wiped the dampness on her ass. Miranda strained at her bonds, and he turned away and dug for the riding crop. Before he took a swing at her with it, he stuffed her panties back in her mouth and taped them back into place.

He swung the crop hard, and it landed squarely across her ass. She screamed behind the gag and would've raised up off the bed if she had enough slack in her restraints. He struck her again, just below where he hit her the first time. A thin line of blood formed atop the welt the blow left. Miranda struggled hard. She couldn't get away from the cruel whipping, and the more she moved, the more her bound breasts throbbed.

"Please, no!" she begged behind her gag.

He paid her no mind, of course, and continued beating her. The crop stung her ass, back, and thighs. She fought, but to no avail. Nothing dissuaded him from whipping her. The whole backside of her body became red-striped and bloody. She believed it would never end. She burned all over, and the tears flowed freely down her face.

He stopped only when he was too tired to raise the crop again. He ran his fingers over her bloody back and ass, and she flinched. He walked to the head of the bed and again ripped her gag out, tearing more flesh from her mouth. He held his fingers covered in her blood to her lips. She cleaned them obediently, without having to be told.

"Do you know what that is, slut?" he asked her.

She nodded, unable to speak. He untied her hands, then moved to the opposite end of the bed to free her feet. Roughly, he pushed her over on her back and began to retie her in basically the same position. He removed the ropes from her breasts and roughly massaged them to bring the feeling back. Miranda sobbed. He pulled the blindfold off. Her face was a mess, her dark eye makeup smeared everywhere. Her eyes were red from crying, and tears still trickled down her cheeks. While he enjoyed seeing her in such disarray, he also wanted her to see what he had in store for her next.

He retrieved a large box full of 18-gauge needles and set it on the bed next to her. Her blue-gray eyes widened in fear when she saw them. He removed one from the box and looked at her.

"I don't think I have to tell you be still, do I?"

She shook her head, afraid. He brutally pinched one nipple, making it hard beneath his touch. She bit her lip when he touched it with the point of the needle. He shoved it through her hard nipple horizontally, and she screeched loudly. He took out another needle and readied it at her other nipple. He looked up at her, enjoying the fear he saw in her eyes. Her fingers clawed at the sheets when he pushed this needle through. Her nipples burned agonizingly. He removed two more needles from the box and inserted one through each nipple, vertically this time. More tears appeared in Miranda's eyes when he tugged lightly on the ends of the needles.

Slowly, deliberately, he ran his hands down her bruised torso and over her battered thighs. He smacked her pussy once, hard, and heard her sharp intake of breath when he touched her clit with one finger.

"What?" he asked. "Do you like this?"

She nodded miserably.

He pinched her clit. "Are you a dirty little whore?"

She nodded again.

"Say it," he instructed.

"I'm a dirty little whore," she whispered.

"Yes," he growled, "you are."

He slapped her cunt again, and she jumped. "I think your pussy needs some decorations, to match the ones on your nipples, don't you?"

The fear came back into her eyes, and she hurriedly shook her head no.

"No?" he asked. "Oh, well, it doesn't matter what you want, anyway."

He leaned over her thighs, effectively pinning them to the bed, and pulled out another needle. This one went through the fatty tissue of her outer labia. Miranda howled in pain, but he didn't let it deter him. He went all the way around the outside of her soaked pussy with needles. She purred when she felt his fingers on her wet folds, separating her...at least until she realized what he was doing. Another needle pierced her inner labia. She screamed, not believing pain this awful could exist. He pushed another needle in, and the fight left her. Her body went limp, and all she could do was sob softly, quietly, in abject misery as he shoved two more needles in. When he finished, he looked up at her.

"Twelve needles," he said. "You're just short of one for unlucky thirteen."

Another wave of fear washed over her face as she quickly realized his intention. The final needle he pushed through her sensitive clit hood. The white-hot pain shot through her, and she came very close to losing consciousness for the second time that night. She was beyond tears. She sobbed, but her eyes were dry. Blood dripped from her nipples and her cunt. Her whole body ached, and her bonds dug into her wrists and ankles. He moved off of her body and came to stand next to her head. Somehow, she noticed idly, he had gotten naked in the time she was blindfolded. He thrust his hard cock in her face.

She opened her mouth to take him in. He knelt above her head, and she knew she wasn't so much giving a blowjob as getting a face-fucking. He rammed his hard cock down her throat. She gagged, but couldn't get away. He thrust in and out, again and again. Her struggles and gags excited him farther, and in short order, he was close to orgasm. He wrapped his hands around her neck and squeezed hard as he rammed his cock down her throat one last time. He groaned when he came, drowning out her strangled gagging noises as she fought in vain to breathe.

Finally, he withdrew, and she swallowed the load of cum in her mouth, gasping for breath. He removed the needles from her nipples and pussy, and, thankfully, taking them out was nowhere near as bad as putting them in. She closed her eyes, grateful for the momentary respite. He noticed, as always.

"Do you think you're finished?" he growled at her.

Timidly, she shook her head. He untied her once again and clipped a leash to the collar around her neck.

"Come with me, cunt," he ordered, yanking on her leash.

Miranda tried to stand next to him, but he pushed her to her knees. She understood and crawled alongside him to the bathroom. He pointed to the bathtub, and she edged into it. He tugged at her leash and positioned her so her upper body hung off the side of the tub, while her lower body remained inside, her ass pointed skyward.

"You need to be cleaned out before I go any farther with you," he said, dangling an enema bag in front of her eyes.

The horrified expression on her face was priceless. She tried to get up, but he slapped her back down. He took up on her leash some more and pulled her head down as far as it would go, nearly touching the cold floor. He hung the enema bag behind her and roughly inserted the other end in her ass. He released the clip and warm water flowed inside her. Once the bag was empty, he replaced the enema tube with a butt plug and waited. The cramps hit her almost immediately. She squirmed, trying to find some relief. He watched in sadistic glee.

"Please," she begged him. "Please! It hurts so much."

He laughed at her. "Ok, I'll take it out."

She was surprised at his acquiescence. He removed the butt plug, and she tried to stand to move to the toilet.

"No," he pushed her back down.

Once again the look on her face was priceless.

"You let it out where you are," he told her.

Now she understood his speed in removing the plug.

"I can't," she sobbed.

"You can, and you will," he said, sitting back to wait and pulled on her leash again, forcing her head back down.

She cried, the tears coming again, but, as he said, she couldn't keep the liquid from running out of her. The more that came out, the more she wailed. He thought for a moment about telling her to shut up, but decided her liked hearing her misery.

Finally, when it was all gone and the cramps had stopped, he looked at her. "You're a fucking filthy mess."

He turned the shower on, cold water only, and she shrieked in protest. He kept her head held down with the leash, however, so she couldn't really move away. Once every trace of filth was washed away, he turned the cold water off and roughly pulled her out of the tub. She crawled, still dripping, beside him back to the bedroom. He dragged her back to her feet by her hair.

"On your hands and knees," he commanded her, gesturing toward the bed.

Miranda obeyed, almost mechanically, both her body and mind weary by this point. She knelt on the bed, her back arched, her ass and pussy lewdly exposed. He could see the insides of her thighs glistening with her wetness. He waved a baseball bat in front of her eyes.

"Guess where that's going?" he grinned evilly.

He didn't give her a chance to react before he buried it deep in her soaking wet pussy. She squealed when it touched her cervix. He fucked her hard, viciously thrusting the bat in and out. She was certain he was bruising her cervix, but she was beyond caring.

"Cum, bitch!" he commanded.

She arched her back and came hard. A fine, warm spray of liquid coated his hand and arm. He still didn't stop his relentless savaging of her cunt with the bat. She screeched at the top of her lungs, and he growled at her to cum again. She did, squirting liquid all over the both of them. She came and came, over and over, soaking the sheets, the bed, and the both of them. When she finally stopped, he removed the huge object. He ran it lightly over her ass.

"Should I try it there?" he asked.

She stiffened.

"No, I think I'll pass on that for the time being," he said, seemingly to himself.

He shoved his fingers in her pussy, then withdrew them. He forced two of them roughly in her ass. She shrieked in surprise. He thrust his fingers in deeper, then pulled them almost the whole way out, and shoved them back in. She moaned in spite of herself as he ravaged her ass. He slipped in a third finger.

"Cum," he growled.

She came again, her whole body shuddering. Abruptly, he removed his fingers and moved behind her. Miranda moaned loudly as he buried his hard cock deep within her wet cunt. He fucked her hard, brutally, showing no mercy on her bruised cervix. He gave her permission to cum again, luckily, and she couldn't stop. Hot liquid dripped off his balls and down his thighs. He withdrew from her pussy and readied his cock at the entrance of her ass. She arched her body into him as he pushed into her. She thought her ass would split open from his ruthless savaging of her. He groaned at her tightness, knew he wasn't far from spilling his seed deep inside her bowels. Pain and pleasure mixed together hazily in her feverish mind. She came hard, explosively, just as he shot his cum inside her.

She slumped forward, no strength left in her body. He lay on top of her until he caught his breath and drew away. He stood, and finding the leash still attached to her collar, tugged at it. She dropped to her knees at his feet beside the bed. He led her into the living room and stopped her at the edge of the couch. Producing two lengths of rope, he bound her hands behind her back, tied her feet together, and wrapped the rope securing her hands around the one securing her feet before finishing the knot, successfully tying her on her knees. He disappeared into the kitchen and brought back some food and a drink.

"You've been a very good girl," he whispered to her as he sat on the couch.

Her whole body flooded with pleasure. She practically purred when he reached out to stroke her long hair. He took a long swallow of drink, then offered her some. She drank, grateful for the cold liquid. He began to eat and occasionally fed her small bites. Miranda was positively glowing. When they finished, he tugged at her leash, pulling her close to him. He surveyed her bruised, bloody, exhausted body, and suddenly, without warning, drew her face to his and kissed her hard. She kissed back, ferociously, happily. When they drew away, he untied her hands and feet so that she could sit more comfortably and tied her leash to the leg of the coffee table. Miranda sighed in contentment and rested her head on his knee, closing her eyes. He smiled down at her.

"Such a good girl."