Abducting an Angel

The only question was, could I trust her? Could I really trust her with my life - which I would for all intents and purposes lose if ever our secret escaped - when she in turn had no reason to trust me? She'd proven herself discreet with our wedding, but there was no telling what she might do when I had no influence over her.

And yet the prospect of displaying her proudly in public was too tempting to pass up. And if she could convince her former associates that she was happy and well... Then I could put my worries to rest for good.

The chastity belt would return, that's for sure. And I would take measures to protect myself from any legal ramifications in the event that she exposes me. But what if she took a more personal revenge against me? I would just have to keep an eye on her and watch for any suspicious behaviour.

I turned off the shower and dried myself quickly, donning a fresh set of clothes as I wondered how I would break the news to her. I descended the stairs to my dungeon slowly, churning through all the possible words I could use in my head. As I swung open the heavy door, I was briefly puzzled as I scanned the room unable to see where Alicia was lying. Then I felt a heavy blunt impact to the side of my head and the room went dark as I crumpled to the cold, unforgiving floor.

I came to slowly, uncomfortably aware that I was strapped naked into the very same chaise I had prepared for Alicia. I opened my eyes and saw her standing casually before me with a huge smile, wearing the most ridiculous outfit I'd ever seen. Then I realised they were my clothes. She dangled my underwear from her fingers, waving them in front of my face.

"I didn't want to put on your dirty undies - I hope you don't mind me wearing your trousers without underwear." I wondered briefly why she would wear my clothes at all - there were plenty of female clothes upstairs she could have changed into while I was out. Maybe I hadn't been out that long. But then it occurred to me that she wearing them to taunt me, and my face flushed with embarrassment.

She produced a small key from one of the pockets - the padlock key for her collar. Reaching behind her neck, she fumbled with the lock for a moment before removing the collar and approaching me with it. I struggled violently against the chair's restraints, but I had built them too strong and they gave no slack to my wrists or ankles. My chest leapt forward, but Alicia had no trouble pushing me back into the chair as she collared me. The collar closed tightly around my neck with a loud click, making me wince as swallowing became rather uncomfortable. She must have also locked it to the headrest, because I could no longer move my head forward.

"Oh, it looks like your neck is a bit thicker than mine," she observed with mock concern. "Oh well, I'm sure you'll manage."

My face reddened as it dawned on me just how much trouble I was in. "How did you get out of those ties?" I asked, still confused as to what had happened.

"Well, your precious torture devices might be just for show, but their blades are still lethally sharp. It didn't take me long to roll over to one and carefully rub the rope against it until my arms were free. Then it was a simple matter of untying the rest," she explained. "I must say, as embarrassed as it made me, that breast tie did make me feel awfully sexy. It's a shame I can't demonstrate the same effect on you." She grinned. "But there's plenty of other things we can try, isn't that right?"

I groaned, fearing what she planned to do to me in revenge. As the side of my head continued to throb where I'd been hit, I added, "What did you hit me with? And where were you hiding?"

"So many questions! But I'm more than happy to oblige you, my dear husband." Still grinning widely, she reached down and held up the object for me to see. I reddened further with embarrassment.

"Just this big vibrator thing. And I must say, the pleasure I got from using it really was something. As for where I was hiding... It turns out that all those hooks in the ceiling are excellent for holding on to. It's a good thing I don't neglect exercising my upper body like most girls, huh?"

I thought I might just die from embarrassment at that point. How much worse could this situation get? Why couldn't I have just checked the cameras first, I berated myself silently.

She took our gold wedding rings from my pocket and held them up for me to see. "And maybe these don't mean much to you, but regardless of how fancy or plain they are they're still a symbol of our union - however bizarre the circumstances of that union might be. My husband might be an asshole, but you're my asshole. You belong to me now as much as I belong to you."

She put her ring back on her finger and approached me with mine, shoving it on the appropriate finger. She had a good point, I suppose. I wriggled it around to make it more comfortable, then looked back at her with an uneasy gaze.

"So... What now?" I asked, shivering despite the comfortable room temperature.

"I think I'll go exploring a little. Don't go anywhere, will you?" She started to leave the room, then paused. She looked around at me and smiled as she had an idea. The next thing I knew my mouth was being stuffed with the same inflatable gag I'd used on her when we'd first met. She hummed happily as she inflated the gag until my mouth was bursting with rubber.

"Much better," she said cheerfully as she strolled out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

***

It was strange - I was glad to be free of Gordon's control, yet I had no desire to run away or turn him in to the authorities. In fact, I relished the opportunity I now had to get my revenge on him for his merciless treatment and exploitation of my body's sexual responses. I'd never asked to be tied up and forced to orgasm - I was kind of thankful that he had, but I understood now that my body was simply designed to respond with pleasure to the appropriate stimulation. Of course I had enjoyed it - such was the nature of orgasms. I was still wrestling with my emotions, but he'd nonetheless exploited my body against my will and that was something I wanted to punish him for. And after all the predicaments he'd put me through, I had numerous ideas of how I might go about doing that.

But for now, I just wanted to scout out his expansive house and get an idea of his background and our location. I reasoned that not many people would have such a well-equipped underground dungeon - it probably cost quite a lot, so he must be in some high-paying job or position of authority. And he obviously lived in a sparsely-populated rural area, otherwise the construction of such a dungeon would draw undesired attention.

I began exploring my husband's house eagerly, checking every cupboard, drawer, nook and cranny in search of interesting items. It seemed more of a mansion than a house, though. Without having seen the overall structure from the outside, I was consistently surprised each time I rounded a corner and found another entire corridor stretched before me.

There were 5 floors in total: the ground floor, which contained a few broom cupboards and the grand foyer our wedding had been in; the next floor up, home to a number of bedrooms, a lounge room, and a bathroom; the top floor, which was smaller than the others but contained a large master bedroom and en suite with luxurious entertainment facilities - including a high-definition image of Gordon strapped to the reclined chair - and an overhanging balcony; the basement, which was basically just a huge kitchen and dining room; and the sub-basement, its entrance hidden behind a fake wine rack, containing the dungeon itself, another locked door which I could find no way of opening, and a large storeroom of various restraints and devices. Some house, I thought in awe.

I found countless bondage implements scattered throughout the house - I figured Gordon was really into that stuff - and went through collecting all of the keys and remotes I found, hiding them all on a high shelf in one of the broom cupboards. While I was on the top floor, I also deleted all the humiliating footage of myself from the automatic recordings and turned the feed off so that it wouldn't record any further footage.

Besides a few personal effects I found in Gordon's room, the house seemed entirely unoccupied. I wondered what he could possibly be doing with a house this size if he lived alone. My curiosity increased further as I rifled through his wallet and plucked out his ID - "Gordon Massey, Freelance Journalist". Really? I couldn't believe that he was a journalist. I continued looking around his room. Just as I was about to finish my search, I noticed some papers sticking out from under his bed. Curious, I knelt down to investigate. Wow.

Stacks of paper marked as classified documents laid under his bed. I knocked a bag as I reached for them, and a number of portfolios fell out. Searching through them, I found that each one contained a passport and various other forms of ID as well as a number of references for various professions. None of them had Gordon's name on them, though - they all seemed to belong to different people. Is he... Some kind of spy? I wondered incredulously. That might explain the wealth. I decided to confront him with it later.

Looking around his walk-in wardrobe, I noticed a section dedicated to women's clothing. Strange, since he seemed to live alone. There were some very nice outfits there, too. I decided to shed Gordon's bizarre clothes and have a long relaxing shower, then outfitted myself with a sexy blue tube top - very retro - and a short pair of denims. They were barely longer than panties, but I was in the mood for some teasing.

Outside of Gordon's room, there was very little in the way of interesting knick-knacks. I did, however, find an interesting device in the bottom drawer of a seemingly unused dresser - it seemed to be some sort of electrical torture device. It had a number of pads with wires running to a control box. Thinking it might come in handy soon, I took it with me back down to the basement.

I stopped for a quick dinner - just some pre-made sandwiches from a fridge. Then I visited Gordon's conveniently well-supplied storeroom of assorted fetish gear and found a pair of shiny black latex gloves. The thought of touching his bare genitals repulsed me for some reason, and wearing gloves would probably help to humiliate him further.

I donned my gloves and returned to the dungeon, pressing the button that swung open the heavy metal door. Gordon, unsurprisingly, was exactly where I'd left him. He looked at me pleadingly as I walked in. I ignored his gaze and got straight to work. I had a point to prove.

His shaft was already erect, so it only took a few strokes before precum started to appear at its end. I wiped some onto my finger and slipped it into his anus. His reaction was immediate. He began breathing rapidly and all his muscles tensed up against the invader in his rear.

I smiled and wriggled my finger slowly around his virgin hole, enjoying the sensation of the latex hugging my digit tightly. "You feel that? That's the feeling of absolute helplessness. I'm sure you're thinking this is unnatural and a cruel violation, and you're right. But this is nothing compared to what you did to my unprotected arsehole." My voice became sour and resentful as I finished, remembering the horrific experience of being violated in my own rear. I pulled out my finger and brought it up to his nose, rubbing off what remained of the now-tainted lubricant on his philtrum.

I slapped him across the face in the same way he'd slapped me, just for good measure, watching with satisfaction as his cheek turned red and his expression became even more fearful. These shiny gloves were making me feel awfully sexy, too. I flexed my fingers experimentally to feel the latex stretching around my skin. I'd have to wear more of this stuff in the future.

I turned my attention back to the pitiful man restrained before me. "I would love to subject you to the full extent of the trauma you have caused me, but honestly, your body simply wouldn't be capable of the extreme position you just tied me in. You wouldn't be able to bear the pain of having your nipples crushed mercilessly without reprieve. You certainly wouldn't be capable of experiencing such intense consecutive orgasms to the point where you lose consciousness and fear for your own sanity. And I doubt you would even last as long as I have without becoming a blubbering mess." I paused, wondering if there was something else I'd missed.

I put a gloved hand around his testicles, holding them firmly as I looked into his pleading eyes. I knew I didn't have to vocalise a threat - guys would do almost anything to protect their precious manhood from harm. "Now you know the feeling of having your life in another's hands. Of being completely at the mercy of someone else. Someone whom you don't even trust. I could leave this place and never return, and your own arrogance in concealing its entrance would ensure no one ever found you." He looked positively terrified now, so I softened my voice as I continued.

"But fortunately for you, I'm not a vindictive person. No matter how you've abused me, I won't see myself responsible for your death. But I wanted to familiarise you with some of the horrors you subjected me to. To give you a taste of your own medicine, so to speak. The things you put me through... No human should have to bear. And you should at least be aware of the full extent of the trauma you inflicted." I had no idea if anything I was saying was getting through to him, but I had to try to make him understand his crimes.

He was beginning to calm down, but was still evidently fearful of what I might do next.

"I'm going to leave you now. Get some rest. I'll be back for you, but don't hold your breath. Remember what I said." I looked at him reprovingly for a moment as a parent might when scolding a child, still holding his scrotum tightly in my hand. With a firm squeeze to remind him of his place, I released it and walked out of the room, extinguishing the light and closing the door behind me.

I still hadn't decided what to do with him, but I couldn't just desert him. We were legally married, after all, and despite everything I wanted to respect that union. Nor could I bring myself to torture him in the way he'd tortured me. The problem was, he had never deliberately caused me extreme physical pain - the nipple clamps had been bad, but they paled in comparison to the pain I could have received if he had used some of the torture devices in the room. No, the pain I felt was on an emotional level, heightened by the sexual torment he had unleashed upon me. But men didn't experience those things the same way we did - I was unable to avenge myself in the same manner.

Somehow, the treatment I'd just given him felt the most fitting. The threat of abuse, without following through, could cause just as much torment as abuse itself. And he did appear to be tormented, I had no doubt about that. I almost felt sorry for him.

I left my gloves in his storage room and ascended to the master bedroom, switching on the link to his dungeon. A faint green glow illuminated the scene - the camera must have been fitted with a night-vision lens. After watching his fearful face intently for several minutes, I decided upon my course of action. But it could wait - there was no reason I couldn't take a bit of time out for myself first. Or maybe a lot of time. Gordon owns a lot of movies, I observed as I flicked through his TV's storage with a remote, relaxing upon his soft mattress with a satisfied sigh.

***

The door clicked closed as Alicia exited the room, leaving me completely alone in pitch black darkness. I was used to living by myself, but the absolute silence in the sound-insulated dungeon unnerved me. A special air filtering system was in place to ensure any captives I kept here wouldn't suffocate, but Alicia wasn't aware that the dungeon was completely sealed off and probably hadn't given it a second thought. I had maybe a day at best before I started to feel the effects of oxygen deprivation. Probably less, given the rate at which my heart was currently racing.

How could I have been so stupid? Of course she had escaped - I'd been so wrapped up in my own fantasies that I'd been blind to the gaping security flaws in my own dungeon. And too arrogant to set up a failsafe - she was right about that much. I was caught like a rat in my own trap, destined to suffocate naked and helpless in the darkness. Unless she returned.

I couldn't fathom why she would - she had proven stronger than I had ever imagined, and my hope of her somehow becoming a subservient sex slave and returning for her master seemed moronic now. Yet she had promised to return - given her word - and I clung to the hope that she was more honourable than I.

She'd been wrong about one thing, though. I was all too familiar with the concept of complete helplessness. My foolish father had gotten us into serious trouble on more than one occasion. Interrogated by enemy mercenaries. Captured by an enraged mafia wanting their stolen goods returned. Cornered by a vindictive hit man avenging the unfortunate death of his partner. The life of an intelligence specialist was fraught with peril, it seemed. Or maybe my father just wasn't very skilled at his job. In any case, I would somehow end up involved in all his craziest schemes and usually ended up regretting it. Each time we'd been saved by sheer luck - nothing more. My father's luck had run out on his last job, and I'd vowed to put that life behind me.

It could never last, though. I was always on the lookout for hidden secrets and useful intelligence. It was who I was - I couldn't put my mind at ease. In the end, I'd settled on this whole abduction scheme. Alicia wasn't the first girl I'd investigated, but she was the first whose life I'd destroyed. And now she would destroy mine, it seemed. Just like old times, I thought, defeated.

But while I had been helpless and at the mercy of others on a number of occasions before, I had never been so terrified as I was now. Alicia was the first person whose life I had truly ruined, and she had every right to take revenge against me for that. I shuddered as I contemplated the things she could do to me - even if she claimed to be above such a thirst for vengeance.

A light in the corner of the room blinked on and interrupted my thoughts. It was the camera. A faint hope rose within me as I realised she must be watching me. She may return yet. I silently thanked her for turning off the room's light - in complete darkness, the night-vision mode on the camera needed to supply its own light in order to function. Without the darkness, I would never have known she was still with me. It was a small hope, but it kept me going.

I didn't resent her for leaving me in this situation - I surely would have done much worse if I was in her situation. And she couldn't have known about the air filter. But how long would she leave me to stew? I just fervently hoped she would return before it was too late.

Hours later, my hope was dwindling. I was thirsty, hungry, and sore all over. The human body did not take kindly to being immobilised for extended periods of time. I thought back guiltily on how I'd left Alicia in this very position for an entire night.

My jaw ached worst of all - it would take some thorough working before I could use it comfortably again. And my collar continued to remind me of my uncomfortable enslavement every time I swallowed. The inside of it was now slick with sweat - but then again, most of my body was.

And despite the direness of my situation, my nakedness still bothered me. The only time I was ever normally naked was in the shower, and though I had removed my clothes to deflower Alicia, I'd been amply comfortable with her bound and suspended in front of me. Being in an equally vulnerable position myself with her eyes casually raking my body and her rubber-clad hand prodding me like some impersonal sadist, I had begun to appreciate the full extent of my crimes against her.