Otherwise Engaged

At some point I must have fitfully drifted off because I was brought back to reality by the sudden brightness of the lights. The reappearance of the three women immediately reignited my anger and I was prepared to lash out as they began to release me.

They had arrived with a hospital gurney but if they thought that they were having any more fun with me they were badly mistaken. When my arms were freed they flared with pain as I tried to bring them to my sides and I started to swear in earnest once more.

They were unfazed by my outburst, and certainly did not seem in fear of me, and I had clearly underestimated my vulnerability. With no warning a foot shot out and caught me squarely between the legs.

I would have dropped to my knees but they deftly caught me up and laid me on the bed. I was only dimly aware as my wrists were secured once more and I was wheeled back to the cell from which I had started.

I do not know for how long I was left alone but it felt like hours. I fell into a broken sleep but was woken every time I tried to move.

Eventually they returned and this time I tried to stay calm and reason with them.

"Look, I don't know what my friends told you, or how much they paid you, but I've had enough. I can enjoy a joke as well as the next man but this has gone too far."

The woman looked at me curiously.

"Your friends probably haven't even missed you yet. As far as they are concerned a beautiful woman came on to you and you disappeared shortly after she left the bar. They probably consider you a very lucky man."

It took me a moment to process what she was saying with the intimation that my friends had nothing to do with all this. I had a hundred questions but before I could even begin to speak a ball gag was forced into my mouth and fastened securely at the back of my head.

I thrashed within my restraints and yelled to the extent that I could but they simply watched and waited until I calmed down. They began to tighten straps across my chest and stomach and, although I kicked out wildly, I was no match for them as they finally secured my ankles.

The two assistants donned latex gloves and I was brought out in a cold sweat fearing that I had fallen victim to a group of organ harvesters. I shook my head and implored them but could do nothing to stop them as they proceeded to shave my groin and then finished the job with a depilatory cream.

When they had finished the woman approached me holding an aerosol can.

"You may find this a little cold. Please feel free to scream."

With that she proceeded to spray my genitals. It felt as if she was pouring boiling water over me and I jerked within my bindings and roared with fury. A white frost dressed my skin and my manhood shrank almost to non-existence.

I could only look on in horror as one of the assistants took up something that looked like a gun. She stretched the loose skin of my sac and then a sharp snap preceded a sudden stinging pain. I had no time to recover from the shock before she repeated the process and I was pierced for a second time.

Her colleague dabbed the wounds with antiseptic and then carefully threaded two steel wires through the raw openings. When she was satisfied the woman came into view and revealed to me a metal ring perhaps two inches in diameter.

She slid it over my shrunken manhood and carefully threaded the steel wires into it.

The final scene in this nightmare was played out when one of the assistants put on a heavy leather gauntlet.

She proceeded to shield my flesh as she used a second gun to seal the wires with an arcing heat before cooling the whole apparatus with a further shot from the freezing aerosol.

I still had tears in my eyes as they removed my gag and set down a tray of refreshments along with a small unidentified bottle whose purpose was then made evident to me.

"It's a balm. Use it frequently and twist the wires back and forth to keep the openings free."

With that she freed one of my wrists and I was locked in again.

Chapter Two

It took me a few moments to free myself altogether and I then spent futile minutes banging on the door and shouting.

Finally I gave up and, reluctant as I was, I reviewed the food that had been provided which turned out to be surprisingly good. There was a choice of cereals, fresh rolls and fruit as well as juice and a thermos of high quality coffee.

I ate, showered, and then turned my attention to what had been done to me. Even now I harboured the possibility that my friends would burst in and reveal it as an elaborate prank but the thing now attached to my manhood suggested something far more sinister.

The free ends of the wires were now formed into globes ensuring that they could not be slid out and where they met the ring they formed a solid join which no amount of tugging was going to shift. A pair of wire cutters would make short work of it as soon as I was able and the piercings would heal almost invisibly but that did nothing to alleviate my anger.

My phone had disappeared along with my clothes and so I had no idea of the time. I was growing increasingly bored but I reckoned that I was due a meal at the very least. It went against the grain to hurt a woman but I determined that when the door next opened I was going to bolt for it.

When I finally heard a key in the lock I stood a little way back from the door ready to use my weight and muscle to barge through. There was just one girl encumbered by a tray of food and I shouted fiercely as I charged shoulder first.

I had barely taken two paces before I fell and lay convulsed on the floor. It felt as if I had run into an invisible post and crushed my genitals. I was completely powerless as she casually removed my empty tray and left the new one.

It was some time before the pain abated and I could get to my feet. Fearfully I re-examined the seemingly innocuous ring and wondered how it was capable of delivering such devastating pain.

For a long time I had no appetite but, finally, boredom got the better of me and I started on the food which was better than many meals that I had been served in restaurants.

Later that same afternoon the door opened again. As it did I felt a cramping sensation in my groin which was clearly intended as a warning.

The same girl that had brought my meal came into the room carrying a bale of towels.

"Lie on the bed, face down."

I refused at first and fired questions at her but the pain in my groin became more intense. I was suspicious of her intentions but I did as she asked in the hope that she might prove more amenable. I laid down expecting her to secure me in some manner but, to my great surprise, she began a very professional massage.

She used an oil which did a lot to relieve my reddened skin and tortured muscles but she steadfastly refused to say a word. When she was finished I was left alone again my frustration overflowing.

Shortly afterwards another warning pain heralded a fresh visit. This time it was brief, just long enough to deliver a laptop. As soon as I was alone I fired it up only to find that it had been stripped to the bare bones. It offered no access to the outside world but, disturbingly, it had been loaded with my favourite combat game at exactly the spot I had last played it.

This confirmed that I was not just a random target but was it proof that my friends were involved after all? Perhaps they paid not knowing exactly what it entailed for me?

Bereft of anything else to keep me amused I began to play and, after two or three hours undivided attention, I completed the final level. I punched the air in quiet triumph having previously struggled for weeks to reach the end.

Later, boredom drove me to start the game again from the beginning and I was given plenty of time to work my way through it. Meals were delivered at regular intervals and I judged that I had been kept for at least seventy-two hours.

Twice more I attempted to force an exit but each time I was floored by the pain that surged through my groin. I grew hoarse with shouting threats and imprecations but my captors remained completely unfazed.

The problem was that, apart from my friends, I was unlikely to be missed. I worked freelance, had no immediate family and in terms of a relationship I had killed it stone dead.

I completed the game for a third time but I was tired of it and that was something I never thought I would hear myself say. I was about to turn away from the screen when the now familiar fanfare stopped abruptly.

Turning back I saw that a video clip was running. It showed an older woman, mid-forties perhaps, reasonably attractive if that was your sort of thing. Her dark hair, expensively styled and not excessively tinted, framed a pretty face which made a virtue of the faint lines that nature had begun to etch.

She wore light make-up with the exception of her lips which were heavily glossed and, for a fleeting second, I imagined what it would be like to kiss her.

The camera lingered on her face and, whilst I could hear nothing, I guessed that she was listening to music as she looked totally transported. When, eventually, the camera slowly panned out I could see that she was wearing a simple white, open-necked, blouse which hinted at a very impressive pair of breasts.

I immediately felt myself becoming aroused but, as I already knew to my cost, the ring only allowed a partial erection. For someone as sexually charged as me this was the worst aspect of my confinement.

What made things worse was that, much as I hated my captors, they were achingly attractive and, the more I was denied, the harder it became to hide my feelings whenever they walked into the room.

For a moment or two I thought that the clip had stopped, as the woman was so perfectly still, but then she lifted her hand and slipped it within the confirms of her blouse.

Almost without thought I took hold of myself but my burgeoning erection was uncomfortably held in check.

On screen the woman suffered no such prohibition. Her fingers moved slowly and purposefully beneath the silky material of her blouse. For some minutes she was content with this gentle manipulation but then she needed more.

I watched as she unbuttoned her blouse and then let it slip from her shoulders. Her bra looked expensive but functional rather than evocative. She deftly released the front fastening and I could not restrain a gasp as her breasts were revealed.

I am not normally attracted to overly endowed women but it had to be said that her breasts were superb. They were heavy but still beautifully shaped and her nipples were something to behold.

They were perfect circles of dusky pink from which the teats stood arrogantly erect as she leisurely rolled them between her thumbs and fingers. My tongue stirred and I could almost feel the firmness of them in my mouth.

The camera seemed guided by my thoughts as it zoomed in closer and I noticed how perfectly her nails were varnished as she began to apply a more insistent pressure. Older woman or not I wanted to feel those knowing fingers around my manhood.

The view changed again as the lens focussed on her face. Her eyes, now half closed, were almost green and her smile seemed sly almost as though she knew she was being observed.

I desperately wanted to take in the whole scene, conjecturing what she might be doing with her other hand, but the camera remained stubbornly fixed as, minute by minute, the colour in her cheeks heightened.

Finally, taking an age, the camera teasingly panned away. I could immediately see that she was carrying a little more weight than had been apparent but the greater shock was to come.

She was seated in an armchair and, not only was she completely naked below the waist, she was reclining with her legs splayed open.

Kneeling before her was a man, naked, his wrists bound behind his back with a white silk scarf. He was slightly built and I might have taken him for a boy were it not for his close shaved hair which was shot through with gray.

Her hand was at the back of his head drawing him onto her and I could not help but note the contrast between his slender limbs and the seeming power of her shapely thighs.

It was clear exactly what he was being made to do but there was a stillness about him as though he was pacing himself.

To be frank, it is not something I enjoy doing but ever the modern man I make the effort albeit I try to keep it brief. This train of thought was barely formed when an index suddenly appeared in the corner of the screen.

It showed the date and time and a laboured mental count back suggested that I was watching a live feed. For a few moments I was perturbed by the amount of time that had actually passed in the outside world but then I became fascinated by the man's devotion.

I guessed that I had already been watching for at least half an hour and now another twenty minutes had gone by and he showed no signs of flagging. The woman, for her part, looked blissful. She seemed to be conveying her requirements by occasionally touching his head and the settling of her body intimated that he was performing to her satisfaction.

My own technique was to get them as hot as possible as quickly as possible and then get on to the main event. The idea of making it some sort of act of worship would never cross my mind although, I would have to admit, with the boot on the other foot, I did enjoy it when a girl took her time when going down on me.

As the hour mark was reached the woman raised her arms and stretched as her body softly shivered. A moment later her penitent disengaged but he did not move from between her legs.

Without paying him any heed she reached for a glass of red wine set on a side table and took a couple of sips. This was the cue for the camera to frame another close up. With voyeuristic intent the lens centred itself between her legs and her sex was brought sharply into focus.

A sodden arrowhead of dark hair drew my eyes down to her smoothly depilated mound and the wings of her labia. They were as dark as the wine she was drinking and swollen with arousal. Unhurriedly, she set her glass aside and drew a single finger through her cleft revealing a glistening interior and a plump protrusive clitoris.

In my wide experience I had never seen another like it. I was used to a concealed pearl in need of coaxing but there was an arrogance about the way she presented herself and, when I examined my feelings, I found myself slightly in awe of her. As if reflecting my own impressions her captive appeared intimidated as if he dare not look away.

To my amazement she turned her hand and, using the same finger, she silently beckoned him forward. I had thought that she was satisfied and he was surely beyond any further effort.

I could only imagine the strain on his tongue and jaw not to mention the results of an hour spent on his knees bent to his task. I felt certain that I would witness some form of rebellion but, after an initial hesitation, he bowed once more and she settled back to accept his ministrations.

I could only sit and stare as the screen counted off another hour. She sipped her wine occasionally and, at one point, it looked as if she had melted into a second gentle climax but she gave him no respite this time. Some subtle signal compelled him to carry on.

Throughout, I veered from repulsion to frustrated arousal. I told myself that I was only attracted to her because of my enforced abstinence but I knew, deep down, that it was not the whole truth.

I even considered that I might be the victim of a hoax, that I might be watching some looped footage, but I was watching so intently that I knew otherwise. I could see the subtle changes in her breathing, the rise and fall of her breasts, the varying tension of her thigh muscles and, most telling of all, the rapture in her eyes.

He was not inexhaustible. His body was sheened with sweat and the set of his shoulders suggested that he was in great discomfort. She was clearly aware of this but she was not going to be denied.

She slipped her legs over his shoulders and twined her ankles behind his head. For a second or two it looked as if he was being swallowed up as she crushed him closer to her but then her whole body tensed.

For perhaps half a minute she remained still, and I wondered how the hell he was breathing, but then she was rocked by a prolonged series of ever more powerful contractions. Her head went back and she squeezed at her breasts as she rode out one of the most powerful orgasms that I had ever beheld.

Even when it appeared to be over she seemed reluctant, or perhaps incapable, of letting him go. When, finally, she begrudgingly relented he collapsed altogether. For some seconds he was absolutely still but then his body jerked as he drew a laboured breath.

Chapter Three

The screen blanked but I spent some time still staring at it as I tried to make some sense of what had been shown to me. In some way it had affected me deeply but I was still convinced that it was my circumstances that determined my reaction. I am sure that, had I been shown it under normal circumstances, I would have laughed at the man's plight and given it a couple of minutes attention at most.

Shortly afterwards they came for me again. The urge to resist was greater than ever but I hoped that the video was the prelude to some sort of explanation. I was led to the room where they had set about me on the first night and the sight of the trapeze bar stoked my anger. When I saw them lowering it I bunched my fists but was immediately disabled by a powerful shock to the groin.

They manhandled me across the floor and affixed my wrists before lifting me into the air until I was standing on tiptoes. I knew that protesting would avail me nothing but I still swore at them in the coarsest language that I could dream up.

They left me alone and within a very few minutes my muscles began to complain and I wondered what it must have been like in times past when people were mindlessly hung up for days at a time.

My thoughts of the medieval were disturbed by the all too modern. The 'woman' came into the room looking as if she had just finished jogging. She wore track pants and training shoes but what got my attention was her sleeveless white vest.

She was not wearing a bra and the outline of her nipples was arousingly obvious not least because her exertion had made her perspire.

I wanted to bombard her with questions but I held myself in check and tried an oblique approach.

"Do you have a name?"

The enquiry seemed to amuse her.

"You may call me Celeste."

Her reply took me by surprise. I expected her to tell me that I should call her 'mistress' or some such.

"Is that your real name?"

"Does it matter?"

I decided to press further.

"You know that people will be looking for me."

"I suspect that you are right. I guess that your friends may have reported you missing by now...but what would the authorities have to go on? I own the taxi that you got into and I can assure you that there is not a single cctv camera along the route that brought you here."

She was not lying of that I was certain.

"What the hell is this place?"

For a second or two she seemed undecided but then she replied.

"There are places in the city that cater for...darker tastes...but there are some clients who want to take things a little further. I seek to accommodate their requirements. Most victims are voluntary, some less so, and kidnapping is a popular choice as a set up."

"Are you saying my friends paid you to do this?"

She sighed before speaking again.

"Do you not listen at all? Your friends lack that sort of imagination they're, no doubt, back in the U.K. convinced that you will turn up at some point."