Turn About: A Cautionary TalebyJMaxwell69©
Don't let this happen to you. Let this be a warning to consider the obscure pitfalls of a walk on the wild side and not just the obvious ones.
I consider myself relatively wary by nature, and not prone to let my cock lead me over a cliff. When I got an email inquiry into the possibility of helping realize a wife's fantasy of being be kidnapped, used for sex, and returned a sore cum-covered quivering mess, while intrigued, the usual warning indicator began to blink red. If you are just a good-natured pervert with a penchant for extreme fantasy and rough sex, the last thing you want is to find out as you are slamming your member into some soccer-mom's backdoor, when she finally manages to rub that corner of duct tape free on the pillow her face is burrowed into, is that you are actually committing felonious rape.
I, therefore, performed the usual due diligence. I insisted on meeting both husband and wife at a public place at which we could have a little corner of privacy while remaining in the public eye. I wanted to talk to each of them separately to ensure that there was no coercion involved. We met at a mall food court at a time that was not particularly one of high traffic. There were enough people for both sides to be confident that if there was a serial killer among us that person wouldn't be able to comfortable doing anything nefarious, but it was quiet enough that we could get an out of the way table at which we would not be overheard.
I wore khakis and a button-down short-sleeve shirt, and was clean-shaven and freshly showered. Obviously, while not falling into a trap was a major objective for me, I was also aware that this was a mutual interview of sorts. I wanted to create the best impression possible and to come across as professional and not the least bit creepy. At the same time, I had to convince them that I had the confidence to take charge and dominate. From them, besides feeling confident that they were both committed to this, I sought to determine that these were people who would not flake out on me and waste my time. I also wanted to make sure the wife was essentially healthy, not pregnant, was someone I could enjoy taking for a ride, and that there were no other probable complications on the horizon.
The couple also seemed to recognize the importance of making a good first impression. The man was clean-cut with wavy black hair, and dressed in a polo shirt and walking shorts. The woman was wearing a red and white floral print dress, and was all made up. She had short sandy brown hair and had a cute face. A nice tight cleavage line could be seen owing to the dress's deeply plunging V-neck. She had eye-pleasing curves and was well-proportioned, though some might call her chubby. I instantly checked off the box for "boneability" in my mind. The wife showed just the slightest hint of nervousness, but nothing that would send warning bells ringing. It was perfectly naturally for a person to have a little tremor in the hand and a slight quake in their voice when meeting in situation like this. The man, on the other hand, was rock steady. In retrospect, perhaps I should have taken that as an indicator of something unusual, but hindsight is 20/20.
I spoke to them both together first. I directed the conversation and eased into it. I asked if they had ever done this before. They said that they hadn't. I asked whether they had much experience with non-vanilla sexual experiences. They said they had limited experience and cited a threesome and a wife-swap that had both taken place years ago when they were newlyweds. The expected line came up about things in the bedroom starting to get a little stale and, therefore, they were looking to spice things up by trying out a few long time fantasies that had been previously relegated to the imagination.
I then asked the wife to give me some time alone with her husband, and she went to get beverages for us. I proceeded to try to ascertain how into this fantasy the husband was. He had presented it to me initially as primarily his wife's fantasy. He may have wanted convince me she was into it, but it gave me some cause for concern. Some men think they will be alright with their wife being fucked by another man, but then envy gets the best of them after all. By the end of our talk, I was confident that this guy was aroused by the notion of another man taking his wife. I think guys that find this appealing fall into three categories. First, there are those who want to be humiliated. This guy didn't seem to fit in that pot at all. He was confident and gave no indication that he wanted to be demeaned as a man. Second, there are those who want to dominate their women in the extreme by whoring them out. This also did not seem to be this guy's kink. He didn't seem to exert the heavy hand over his wife that one would expect of such an individual. The third group consists of those for whom other men's desire for their spouse rekindles their own lust. I suspected this last category best included this guy. Sharing his wife would help him keep his interest in her. The thought that there were a bunch of other men who would line up to fuck her, and the idea that someone would go to great personal risk to abscond with her for the purpose of raping her increased her appeal to him. That is, or so I thought.
I gestured for the wife to come back with the beverages she had purchased, and asked the man if he would extend us some privacy. He headed off toward the restroom to relieve himself. My discussion with the wife had two objectives. First, I had to ensure that she was doing this of her own free will. This was done relatively quickly. Then, I had to get a feel for how she would respond in real life to the acting out of this fantasy. This largely involved a series of highly personal questions of a sexual nature. If she got embarrassed or flustered, that would be fine and natural, but if she couldn't cope with mere questions I'd have to worry about her flaking out.
"You know if you do this I'm going to fuck you in the face, your pussy, and your bung-hole. Are you alright with that?" I asked.
"Yes, I understand." She blushed a little, but it may have only shown because her skin tone was so alabaster.
"You should know that my actions are not going to be about your pleasure in the slightest. I'm going to ram my cock as hard as I please into whatever orifice I'm fucking at the moment. You may choke and gasp on my meat, and if your backside has not been properly trained you are going to be too sore to sit in anything but a beanbag chair for a week. Do you object to that?" I inquired.
"No, that's OK. That's the way I like it. And Don [that was her husband's first name, or the one they were using anyway- we were on an exclusively first name basis] fucks me in the ass regularly." She responded. I noticed that which I found most reassuring. Ann [that was the name she used] seemed to wriggle in her seat ever so slightly. It wasn't something a person would notice if they weren't attuned to looking for such actions, but I suspected it meant that the juices were beginning to flow between her legs.
"Now there is one thing that will probably be different from an actual rape, and that is that I generally use a condom for the protection of both of us and to avoid pregnancy. A few rapists have been known to use them to cut down on the amount of DNA they leave at the scene. It's well know that DNA is extremely effective evidence in prosecutions, and particularly if one's DNA profile is already in the system. However, I must admit that I can't play this angle well because I usually get carried away and end up drizzling or slinging the cum onto my victim's chest, face, ass, or hair. So when I drop you off and you are waiting maybe a half an hour for your husband to get to whatever random place of my choosing, you are going to stink of cum and it may be crusted in your hair. I usually pick a fairly secluded drop off, but someone may come along and see looking like some kind of cum-drenched bukkake whore. Can you live with random strangers viewing you as a disheveled cum-slut?" I asked.
"Yes, sir." She responded simply.
"Alright then. I'm going to call your husband back over in a minute. I can see he's waiting for us to finish. I just need you to do one more thing. I want you to go to the women's restroom, stick your left index and middle fingers in your cunt and pump them around a little in there as much as you need to in order to get them nice and sloppy, and then come back and put them under my nose so that I can smell that you are hot and ready to be fucked." I said as I gave the wave to Don, who was sitting alone at a table about twenty feet away near a group of chatty cheerleader types.
While Ann was out, I discussed the logistics with Don. There would be a phrase that, when said to Ann, would signal the game was in progress. It was "Might I trouble you for the time?" The phrase was useful because I might disguise my appearance somewhat or might even use an assistant to acquire her, and didn't want her freaking out at this most vulnerable of times in the process. This particular phrase gave me, as a stranger, an excuse to get close. However, the phrasing was not what a typical person would say, at least not in this part of the world. On the other hand, the phrase wasn't so out-of-place that it would draw attention.
I got information on home and work addresses for Ann. Many people would prefer to leave such information out of it, and, rather, agree on a secluded place for the victim to be at a designated time for the snatch. I offered this option, but Don and Ann valued a bit of surprise over anonymity. That settled, I considered it part of my due diligence to conduct the surveillance necessary to determine what time of day and where to make the grab. We had an inherently limited set of time windows owning to the real life schedules of all involved. Besides the feeling of being so desired that the kidnapper would go to great personal danger to acquire one, part of the fun for the victim was getting the heart racing a little, and so I wanted to be as unexpected as possible given the inherent limits of the situation. Real kidnappers have the luxury of not worrying about things like whether the victim's vehicle will be towed because it's left somewhere where it is not supposed to be and can rely on chloroform and physical brutality to do the grab.
When Ann returned I asked them if they still wanted to go forward. I made it clear that I would understand perfectly if they didn't and there would be no hard feelings at this point. Trust and a good fit were essential in this sort of undertaking. When they both said they wanted to proceed, I went back over the "game-on" phrase and other essential details. It was good to repeat these things so that everyone was clear.
Then I bid the couple farewell, and went around the mall apparently shopping, but really making sure that they weren't following me. It might not have been fair that I knew where they lived and where Ann worked, and they really knew nothing about me, but that was part of the deal. I was assuming a lot of the risk and labor, and wouldn't play unless I could maintain a little anonymity. They were free to not accept those terms. Besides, they had contacted me on the recommendation of someone they knew, and, therefore, had more of a basis for confidence than did I. Furthermore, I had been open to some kind of arrangement in which I would only be told some through-point that Ann would pass at a set time.
With a flexible work schedule, I was able to be at the condo of Don and Ann to watch her leave home and follow her to work. I found a nice spot on a side street past which Ann would have to travel to get out of the complex, rather than parking close to their unit. Soon enough I saw her drive by without the slightest glance in my direction.
I followed her until she entered the parking deck in the basement of the office building whose address they had given me as her workplace. After parking my own car in a nearby lot and waiting to make sure she would have ample time to clear her car, I entered Ann's parking deck on foot to have a look around. I was not pleased with what I saw. A parking deck can be a good place for a snatch due to darkness and limited sight lines.
In the afternoon I broke from work to go loiter on a side street near the exit of her parking deck so I could trail Ann home. She proved to have a very predictable schedule, and about ten minutes after 4:00pm I saw her car leave the deck. She stopped at the supermarket, and I had an interminable wait. If she had any inkling that I was following her, she gave no indication of it. Fortunately, people are creatures of habits and tend to be strikingly unaware of the world around them, and this worked to my advantage.
While I didn't like it, I ultimately decided that I would pick her up at her condo when she got home on Friday night exactly one week from my second observation day. She seemed to get home well before Don on both days I had observed. The condo was not a great place to take her because there was always a nosy neighbor to wonder "what the hell was going on with Ann going off with that strange man." However, the condo's location within the complex was favorable because there were few other units with a line of sight of Ann's front door. One could only hope that some busybody retiree wasn't living in one of those few units. Ann's schedule, which took her both to work and home relatively early, was an advantage in that not only would Don not be home, neither would many working neighbors. In the end, I decided I would wear a little disguise to obscure my face and I would take precautions to not have my vehicle observed. I would then return Ann to an obscure park and not return to her home under any circumstance, so there would be no "returning to the scene of the crime" faux-paus.
I decided the sensible thing to do would be to get dropped off or take public transport to Ann's complex, and then take Ann's car and do a vehicle switch in route at a parking lot that would be safe to park in for extended periods without notice. That way, if there was a nosy neighbor with a quick dialing finger, we would have long since abandoned that car and been in an unknown one by the time anyone knew better. Then, when I sent my little "if you want to see her alive and unharmed you won't call the cops" note to Don via an anonymous email address, I'd include a P.S. note on where he could pick up the car if he was concerned about it being towed or ticketed. This was an odd sport, indeed, sending notes that say essentially "I just want to rape and defile your pretty little wife, and if you don't want her hurt you'll keep quiet about it. Oh, by the way, if you don't want you car towed, you should get it out of XXXX lot by midnight."
The snatch went as planned without a hitch. As she was walking from her car to her door, I swiftly moved out of nowhere and gave her the "game-on" phrase and then proceeded to tell her I had a gun in my pocket and would shoot her where she stood if she did anything other than exactly what I told her. I was pleased to see that she was caught off-guard. I suspected my disguise beard and wig was quite passable from a distance, but did not expect it to hold up at the distance between the two of us when I asked: "May I trouble you for the time?" However, she seemed to not have noticed the man approaching her was in an amateurish disguise. The books I had read and practice time put in had apparently paid off. It was a difficult line to walk between being threatening and intense enough to make it convincing for the "victim", and subdued enough to not attract a lot of unwanted attention. It was all in tone of voice, rather than volume, and in not displaying the least bit of timidity.
I made Ann give me the keys and the remote door-lock control. I then told her to get in the passenger side, to put on her seat belt, and to put her hands behind her head as nonchalantly as she could manage. I pretended to look at the tire pressure as I locked her door behind her with the remote and watched her do as I had instructed. Part of what I enjoyed about this game, besides the awesome blow jobs given under duress, was thinking through the minutiae just like a real kidnapper. If I had just told her to get in, she could jump out using the car as cover and start screaming like a wild woman as I tried to get into the vehicle on the other side. This way she would have a hard time getting out before I could get into the vehicle.
As we were driving out of the complex, I made Ann don a pair of those gigantic wrap-around sunglasses women concerned about crow's-feet wear. I had blacked them out from the inside. I hoped no one would notice they were blacked out, and suspected no one would, particularly when she had her other prop in hand. I had brought a collapsible red and white cane of the kind used by the blind. I had concluded that the old "tie-her-up-and-throw-her-in-the-trunk" routine was too risky given the population densities in the condo complex and the surrounding areas through which we would drive. I would thus have to rely on another old standard of criminals, threats.
"Can you see outside the car?" I asked.
"Huh?" Ann responded, apparently unsure what I meant.
"Bitch, can you see where you are going? Don't lie to me either, or I will fucking hurt you." I clarified.
"No, I can only see a little bit of my lap under the bottom edge of these things."
"Very good. Now don't take those off or touch them in any way or I'll slit your throat and throw you in a fucking ditch." I said. It might have seemed a little over the top. However, when we met at the mall I had created an impression of a calm, cool, and collected individual because it suited my purpose at the time. Now I had to undo that a little. I had to make Ann think that there was some chance, even if it was minor, that I really was a complete psychopath. I had to sow the seeds of doubt. There was a logical part of her that would continue to think I was the calm professional she had previously met and who her friend had recommended, and that was alright as long as some deep-seated primal part of her doubted it. The ruse was not only necessary to make this a little more thrilling for both of us, but also because relying on threat (even with someone who was playing along) was made a lot easier if they thought there was a chance that there was a little bit of stone-cold crazy in you. Then they didn't have to think about playing along, they could just be what they actually were, scared shitless, and behave in all manners accordingly.
"Put those on, and put that over them." I handed her handcuffs and a sweater I had brought along in my bag for just such a purpose. At the first red-light, I would check to insure that the cuffs were on securely and would back-lock them to prevent them from ratcheting too tight.
"Now shut the fuck up, unless I ask you something. If we get pulled over, you fucking keep your mouth shut if you don't want to get yourself killed. If the cop asks you anything, you just be polite. 'Yes, officer.' 'Fine, officer.' That is all I want to hear out of that god-damned fuck-hole you call a mouth. Do you understand?" I continued.
"Yes, sir." She said.
"You are going to be a good little girl, and do exactly as I say, aren't you?" I said.
"Yes, sir." She replied. I could hear a quiver in her voice. She was either buying this, or she was worthy of an Oscar.
"That's a good little cunt." I said.
We then went on in silence. We switched cars in an old rundown shopping center parking lot that showed no indication of be covered by any security cameras. I had backed in my vehicle, and so I could insure that even if she saw a bit of the car around the edge of the glasses, it would not include the tag (we live in a back tag only state.) When we did the switch, I confiscated her bag, and seized her phone. I left the purse and cell phone in the trunk along with the keys. I hoped Don had a spare car key, and suspected he did. It might have been a little bit of anal retentiveness, but, in the real world, her cell phone could be the proverbial modern day trail of bread crumbs leading the authorities to us. I could tell that she was a little unnerved by having her phone taken. It is an odd commentary on the modern world that people are so hooked into the world by their phones that if you take them it is like putting them in a sensory depravation chamber. It makes them think they are truly all alone and chips away at their sense of self-identity. If you think this sounds insane, join the club, but that doesn't make it untrue.