Abduction

Sighing, she pushed the plate away and pulled the coffee cup closer. She felt slightly sheepish, going out alone to eat French toast at one o'clock in the morning. But Master had to work nights during their visit, and she had a seemingly insatiable lust for American breakfast foods: she might as well indulge herself a bit while Master was working. After all, she wouldn't be back in the States all that long.

"Can I warm that up for you, dear?" The waitress interrupted her reverie.

"Thanks, no, I've had about enough." Master would probably want to sleep for a few hours when He came back to the hotel, but it wouldn't hurt her to catch a nap tonight. She drained her cup, picked up the check and headed for the cashier.

As she stood waiting for her change, she noticed the tall, black-haired man who had been sitting alone was rising from his seat. She had caught him staring at her several times as she ate. Quickly, she looked away, quickly trying to gauge the distance to the hotel and the amount of light on the street. She was a denizen of the cities, but for many years she had lived in places where it was safe to be out alone at night. She knew that she needed to be more cautious here, but she hadn't been worried when she left the hotel. After all, this was a party town that operated 24 hours a day, there were always people around. But something about this man and the way he had been watching her made her nervous, and he looked as big and strong as her Master. The block between here and the hotel, beyond the end of the Strip, began to seem decidedly desolate.

Stuffing the change into her handbag, she walked the door. Looking back inside the restaurant out of the corner of her eye, she saw the strange man watching her intently as he stood at the cashier's desk. Best to play it safe, she thought to herself, and quickly crossing the parking lot she ducked into the tattoo and piercing salon that stood between the restaurant and the hotel. If he follows me in here, she thought, we'll just see who can wait the longest.

Pretending to be absorbed in the selection of jewelry, she watched the front of the store for the man. There he was! But he was outside, walking right past the window. She gave an audible sigh of relief and her shoulders relaxed. Silly bitch, she admonished herself. Paranoid. Imaging assailants. Still, she waited a few more minutes before making her way out of the shop and heading for the hotel.

The street was calm and moonlit as she crossed, and the air balmy. It seemed a shame to go inside on such a night, but if she didn't get some rest she would be exhausted tomorrow. Thinking that her time with Master was too precious for that, she decided simply to take a short stroll around the pool and then turn in.

The noise of the casino could be heard only dimly. She breathed deeply, gazing at the reflection of the moon on the water and listening to the breeze rustling the palm fronds. It was lovely here, and her heart was filled with joy knowing that Master would be with her again in just a few short hours.

Turning, she left the pool area and started for the side entrance of the hotel. She didn't hear his footsteps until he was almost upon her as he darted out of the parking garage shadows. No time to turn, to see, to defend herself. One large hand was over her mouth, the other coming around her body to restrain her arms. He dragged her backward, kicking, into the deserted garage.

She struggled wildly, but he was incredibly strong. He pulled her over to a car and bent her over the trunk, shoving her face into the warm metal. With his big body pressing her against the car, he pinched her nostrils closed until she was forced to open her mouth. Swiftly he shoved a piece of cloth into it, then covered her head with some sort of bag. Blind, choking on the gag, she could only think no! no! no! This could not be happening.

He was wrapping a rope around her wrists behind her back, then he jerked her up. She heard the sound of the trunk opening but before she could think what that meant, she was shoved inside, her legs grabbed and tied tightly together at the ankles. He pulled her feet back and roped them to her wrists, forcing her body into a painful arch. Then, the trunk slammed shut over her head.

Mustn't panic, she told herself, trying to slow her breathing as she heard the engine start. Pay attention. Try to figure out where he is taking you. How many turns? Listen for the sounds.

But it didn't take long for her to become confused. They took too many turns, and sounds were muffled. She couldn't even tell if they were in a heavily trafficked area or on back streets. In spite of the heat and stuffiness in the trunk, she began to shiver.

Finally, the car came to a stop and the engine shut off. She heard the door slam and gravel crunching as he walked to the back of the car. Blessed relief as the rope holding her feet to her wrists separated, then the tight bonds around her ankles were loosened.

"You will walk with me, cunt," he hissed in her ear, "and don't even think about giving me trouble."

Shaking violently, she could only nod in response. He lifted her to her feet and held her tightly as he guided her forward. Stumbling, she felt the hopelessness of her situation. How could she even think of escape, blind and bound?

They paused, and she heard the sound of a key turning a lock. Then he shoved her ahead again, and the smoothness of the floor under her feet told her that they were inside a building.

"Kneel, bitch." His mouth was close to her ear. When she hesitated, he kicked her behind the knees and she dropped to the hard floor.

"Don't turn your head, don't move a muscle," the voice whispered. Cool air struck her face as the cloth was lifted from her head. Sensing him behind her, she dared to open her eyes a slit, trying desperately to get her bearings. But the room was a blur of shadows and she could see little but darker shapes within the gloom before a blindfold cut off her vision once again.

A muffled cry of pain escaped from behind the gag as he jerked her arms up behind her back, forcing her to lean forward. She felt him manipulating the rope, loosening it only to retie it once again, wrapping it tightly many times around each of her forearms. Then, taking her wrists in his powerful hand, he hauled her to her feet and shoved her forward.

"Stand here and spread your legs, slut." She complied, but apparently not to his satisfaction, and he kicked her feet wider apart. "Move and you will be one very sorry cunt." She swayed, struggling to remain still but scarcely able to sense which way was up. It was only when he stretched her left arm to the side that she discovered that her hands were no longer bound together. The rope was attached to some anchor to her side, then the right arm stretched out and fastened as well.

"Now, let's see what we have here," came his whisper again. She felt the coldness of steel pressed against her cheek—a knife. He caressed her with it, drawing the flat of the blade down the side of her face, tracing her chin with the point, and she began to cry. Swiftly, the blade went to the neck of her cotton dress and cut downward, slicing her clothing cleanly from her body. He ripped the shreds of it away and she heard him step back.

"What a little slut you are," he murmured. "No bra, no panties, and such a short skirt. You've really been begging for this, haven't you, whore?"

Desperately she shook her head. She was a slut, she thought to herself, but she was Master's slut. He had spent so much time and care bringing out this quality in her, teaching her not to be ashamed of it, yet at the same time claiming her as His own. She was Master's slut but here was this stranger, seeing her for what she was and forcing her within his control. She shivered as she felt the point of the knife trace lightly over her breasts and trailing lightly down to her waist.

Her terror combined with the coffee she had drunk earlier and her bladder released its contents. As the warm piss ran down her legs and splashed on the floor, she moaned in shame and fear.

"Oh, what a dirty little cunt. Pissing on my nice, clean floor. Pissing all over herself. Nasty bitch," he hissed.

She heard him walk away and circle the room, whistling tunelessly. She cocked her head and tried to slow her breathing in an effort to locate him. Would he simply leave her like this?

But no, the footsteps were approaching again. Suddenly, without warning, she felt the heavy lash of a leather strap on her ass. She lunged forward in an attempt to escape the pain, but was held firmly in place by the ropes stretching her arms.

"Bitch! I told you to keep your legs spread, didn't I?" The strap fell across the front of her thighs, forcing her back into position. "Spread them, you cunt." Sobbing, she complied, only to be rewarded with a slashing blow on each of her inner thighs. Then he returned to work on her backside, carefully timing each strike so that she felt the pain of each to its fullest. Biting down on the cloth that stuffed her mouth as she fought to remain still, she felt each blow on her back, her ass, her legs as a vicious stripe of fire.

His hand grabbed her jaw and forced her face toward him. Pulling the gag from her mouth, he whispered, "Scream if you must, there is no one to hear. But I warn you: too much noise and I will get irritated. You don't want me irritated, do you, little slut?" She could only gasp for air, sucking it deep into her lungs.

Before she could catch her breath, he was swinging the strap again, raising welts on her belly and breasts. When it struck her nipples, always so sensitive, she could not suppress her scream of pain. Through the sound of blood rushing in her ears, she heard him cluck an admonition. The strap came down on her cunt, directly over her clit, its end flicking around to sting her lips. She bit her lip ferociously to keep herself quiet. Again and again the strap came down, until her entire body was a blur of pain. Her knees gave way and she hung panting between the ropes.

After a time, she realized that the beating had stopped. She could feel the welts and bruises covering her body, but at least the thudding sting of each lash had ended. She straightened her legs to relieve the pull on her arms. Where was he? How much time had passed?

She jumped when he spoke, so close that his breath touched her ear. She hadn't heard him approach. "Well, little slut, feeling a bit better now? You really must buck up, you know. That was just a little warm-up. And you were a bad, dirty girl, weren't you? Troublesome; now I will have to devise some sort of punishment for you. Hmmm. . . ."

As she felt the blade touch her cheek once again she drew in a quick breath. There was almost no pain as he drew the sharp edge down her left breast, from chest to nipple. It wasn't until he cut the right one that she felt the blood trickling down and began to whimper. "No, please, please, please," she begged. She did not want to die.

"Don't make a fuss now. That's just a little reminder, my dear. No real harm done. But, you realize, there could have been." His hissing whisper reminded her of a snake, cold, heartless in its predatory lust. Life had never seemed more precious—or more fragile.

The knife slashed through the ropes that held her arms and her numbed hands fell to her sides. "Down, cunt," he ordered, and this time she fell immediately to her knees. The urine that had so shamefully escaped her earlier was cold against her legs.

"I want you to clean up this mess you made, now." She was confused. How was she to clean it? Thinking that perhaps he had brought a rag, she reached out, feeling for it. His foot came down on the back of her neck, pressing her face and chest into the chilly puddle on the floor. "With your tongue, you stupid cunt." Tears wet her blindfold as she began to lap at the mess.

"Can I warm that up for you, dear?" he snickered. She froze for a second as she felt the warm stream hit the back of her head, then splatter down the length of her back to her upraised ass. But fearing the consequences of such a lapse, she quickly poked her tongue out again and continued to lick up the bitter puddle.

Her jaw and tongue were sore when he finally seemed to grow bored with watching her. Grabbing her hair, he jerked her head up and slipped a chain over it, pulling the links tight around her neck. "Heel, bitch" he ordered, and dragged her forward.

She felt the threshold of a door under her knees and the cool smoothness of a tiled floor. He grumbled "Up and into the tub. Such a dirty little cunt, so troublesome. I really will have to housebreak you soon." Crawling up over the edge of the bathtub, she knelt on all fours as the hot water stung her cuts and bruises. But at the same time it felt wonderfully numbing. She wanted to be numb, not to think, not to feel, not to know what was happening to her. He soaped her and then carefully rinsed her off and toweled her dry, her body wincing as the rough cloth touched the welts that covered her.

"Stand up now, don't want you getting all dirty again." She rose unsteadily to her feet and stepped gingerly out of the tub as he tugged on the leash. Obediently, she followed him back through the doorway, into the other room. "Stay. Good girl," he said, dropping the leash. She stood motionless, afraid to so much as twitch.

"I really think we ought to dress you up a bit for the occasion," the hissing voice came again. Weighted clamps bit down on her nipples, bobbing painfully as he led her forward again. She stopped as she felt her pelvis bump against some sort of bar or beam, but the leash continued to pull forward and down, until she was bent nearly double, hands pushing against the floor to keep from tumbling over. The chain remained taut around her throat as he affixed the lead to some unknown object.

When his fingers began to probe her pussy, her brain seemed to begin functioning again. "No!" she cried. "Master's! It's Master's cunt!"

He chuckled. "Does your Master have you shave it like that?"

"Yes," she sobbed.

"And I suppose He had it pierced and all these rings put in, too, did He?"

"He owns it, it His, the rings show that it's His. Please!"

"Well, I do admire His taste. But this is my cunt now."

"No, please, please!" She grew hysterical in her begging and began to struggle and pull against the leash, only to find herself choking and the bouncing weights pulling agonizingly on her sore nipples. Cuffs snapped around her ankles and her kicking legs were spread apart. "Please, don't!" The whistling sound had barely registered as that of a cane parting the air before the blow came down on her welted ass. Two, three, four, five times it struck before she stopped struggling, her cries subsiding to groans.

The fingers were back at her cunt, probing and prodding and pulling on the rings that decorated her labia.

"Really a nasty little slut. Saying no, no, no, but look how wet you are."

She moaned, feeling betrayed by her own body. She could feel the slippery wetness herself, the uncontrollable arousal that always came with a beating.

More clamps bit into her flesh, this time on her pussy lips. They were stretched and pulled apart, a length of string or elastic fixing them to her thighs. Her cunt was wide open, its warm juices dribbling down over the engorged clit.

His fingers slipped in easily and probed her depths, twisting and rotating, stretching the soft pink walls. "Please," she moaned again, "no." But all control was falling away as the sensations overwhelmed her. Her cunt was hungry, starving, needing to be filled. Her back arched as she tilted her pelvis, involuntarily pushing back against the hand that invaded her. "Please, stop."

Master owned her entirely, she knew, yet it had always seemed to her that her cunt was the key to that ownership. She felt it was the gate He had stormed to take over the stronghold of her mind and emotions. And once He had taken control of her, every one of His actions—whipping her, feeding her, fucking her, touching her, or merely talking to her—every action had an immediate reaction in her cunt. It was His.

But she could not stop what was happening to her now. This stranger had taken control of her physical self. Her only escape, the only way she could tolerate this assault on the property she safeguarded for her Master, was in her mind. She could imagine that it was her beloved Master who was using her. She must escape this way, she thought frenziedly, or she would go crazy.

The powerful wave of an orgasm was building within her, but before it could break he pulled his hand away. This time her groan was one of frustrated desire. But he was gone only momentarily; she felt some object being rubbed through the copious juices of her cunt. His hand spread the cheeks of her ass and pushed the object against the tight rosebud of her anus. She gasped as he shoved the plug in. "It is Master," she told herself, gritting her teeth.

He turned his attention back to her pussy, tugging and tweaking her clit until she was dripping all over his hand. When he rammed the huge dildo in, he did it all at once, to the hilt. It seemed to reach all the way to her throat and she screamed, cumming immediately, out of control. "Master! Give me…please!" she cried, bucking against the painful and glorious thrusts. One after another the orgasms sent spasms through her, her greedy cunt all but sucking the dildo in. Finally she collapsed, limp and utterly drained, against the beam.

She was barely aware of the cuffs being removed from her ankles, the clamps being released, the chain around her throat loosening when the leash was untied. He lifted her, almost gently, from the beam, and placed her on the floor. On all fours, head hanging down and panting like a dog, she felt incapable of any movement.

His fingers reached into her hair, pulling her head toward him. The smooth head of his cock touched her lips, a single tiny drop of precum moistening its tip. "Who am I?" he whispered. "Master." Her warm breath escaped over the rigid member. She leaned forward and kissed it. With the tip of her tongue she tasted his cock, feeling the curves and ridges, the length of it. The pressure of his hand on the back of her head increased and she opened her mouth, taking him into her warm, wet mouth, sucking and circling him with her tongue. He groaned as he pushed her head down, forcing her face into his crotch, his cock into her throat.

Her head bobbed up and down, faster and faster as his fingers tightened in her hair to guide her movements. She choked and gagged as the head slammed into the back of her throat over and over, tears starting from her eyes only to be absorbed by the blindfold. She reached between her legs and massaged her swollen clit as she felt the tension in him grow. Finally, he exploded, shooting his cum down her gulping throat and filling her mouth, and as his cock jerked convulsively she came again, her hips straining toward him as she rubbed herself. A single drop of cum escaped from between her lips as she gasped, and trickled down her chin.

She fell forward against his legs, sobbing, wracked with guilt. What had she done? She had enjoyed it, she had gloried in being used this way. How could she have let herself do this?

His hand stroked her hair. "Very good, piglet. That's a good girl." She froze. It was the first time he had spoken above a whisper and that voice…that voice! And he had called her…he had called her piglet. No one called her that—no one except. . . . The fingers moved to the side of her head and lifted the blindfold from her eyes. Filled with both fear and hope, she looked up—and saw her Master.