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I had just got home from work, about 10:00 p.m. on Friday night, and was looking forward to a long, hot bath and getting to bed. I parked my car in the carport and as I turned away, I felt myself grabbed from behind, and held by a strong arm, a hand across my mouth. A low male voice told me not to scream and not to fight, or I’d get hurt. However, the man told me that if I cooperated fully, no serious harm would come to me and he would let me go when he was finished. He asked if I understood and I nodded. Slowly he lowered his hand from my mouth and told me not to turn around and not to say anything. He told me to take off my glasses and hand them to him, which I did. He took my purse from me and put my glasses in it. He put a blindfold around my eyes and told me to kneel there in the carport. I did so. I heard a car being opened and then closed. Then, he was back and helped me to stand. He led me a few feet, and I heard the sound of a car door opening again. He helped me inside a van and told me to sit. He got in, closing the door after himself. He reminded me not to fight or resist in any way, and then he started opening my blouse. I was shivering from cold, fear, anticipation. He pushed the blouse down off my shoulders and slid it down my arms, until it was completely off. He told me to kneel, and as I did so, he unfastened my skirt and slid it down my hips, to my knees. He started peeling my pantyhose down over my hips, and then told me to lie down on my back. After I did that, he finished removing my skirt and pantyhose, leaving me lying there on my back, cold and frightened. I was thinking that I should just keep quiet and let him have sex with me, and then he’d let me go. I felt the van rocking a bit as he moved around in it. I gasped as he took my right ankle, and slid a loop of rope around it. He pulled my leg over to the side, and secured the rope to something, and repeated it with my left ankle. He kept talking in his low voice, reminding me that I had agreed to be cooperative and he had agreed not to hurt me – much. My wrists he bound together and ran a rope up between them, pulling me out straight. Then he put a cloth in my mouth. He told me he couldn’t take any chances on my making noises. I felt him leave the van, and heard a distant car door slam. Soon I felt the weight of someone as they got in the driver’s side of the van and the motor started.

I don’t know how long the drive lasted. It seemed like hours, but it might only have been a few minutes. I may never know where I was taken. He played a radio low, but didn’t talk to me again during the drive.

When the van stopped, so did my heart. I felt that now he was going to rape me. I heard him come around to the back of the van and open it. For a long time, I felt him staring at me. Then I heard a small “pop” and around the edges of my blindfold I saw a flash of light. He was taking pictures of me spread open, tied and helpless in his van. Then I felt his hands at my ankle, and the rope was loosened. He released my other ankle, and gently rubbed each one, restoring the circulation which had been slightly impeded. Although he released my wrists from being bound over my head, he kept them tied together as he sat me up and helped me slide out of the van. I was outside the van, nude and blindfolded, with my wrists tied in front of me and a gag in my mouth. I felt cold cement under my bare feet, but I couldn’t tell if I was in a garage, or a carport, or out on a public street. I listened carefully to see if I could hear any sounds at all which might help me identify the place later. By now, he was leading me slowly. He kept walking, guiding me until we came to three cold cement steps, which we climbed, and through a door I heard him unlock and open.


I now felt a carpeted floor under my feet, and a warmer temperature, so I knew we were in a house or building of some kind. From somewhere I could hear the faint sound of a clock ticking, and I wondered how long I’d been his prisoner. Still he guided me further, and I heard another door softly open. Now he told me there were some steps, and as he went before me, helping me down the steps, I lost even the sound of the clock ticking away in the distance. After 11 steps, we were again on a flat surface and he guided me only a few feet further.

He pulled my bound wrists upward, and attached them to a rope which was already hanging down from the ceiling. Warning me not to make a sound, he pulled the cloth from my mouth, allowing me to breathe deeply and to wet my lips with my tongue. He ran his hands down my body, cupping my breasts and tweaking the nipples. Down over my belly, to my thighs, and between my thighs. His hands probed, explored, examined every inch of my body. Again, I heard the pop and knew he was photographing me from every angle. After a while, he stopped touching me and photographing me, and I think he just stood there and stared at me for a while. Then he told me that he had some things to take care of, and he’d be back later. He told me not to go away. Chuckling, he left the room and I heard a door close behind him.

I didn’t know if he was still in the room or if he had really gone. I didn’t know if there was a window or some way he could keep me in sight. So I just stood there, with my arms over my head, trying not to cry or struggle. After a long while in total silence, I knew I couldn’t take it much longer. I didn’t care what the penalty might be, I tried to free myself. By this time, I felt pretty sure he wasn’t in the room. I had tried holding my breath, to see if I could hear any other breathing in the room. So I tried to work my wrists free. It almost seemed as though the rope was stretching a bit. My wrists, and my entire body, began to sweat with the exertion of this attempt. I was able to use my arms to push my blindfold down, so I could see my surroundings. I was standing on my toes, trying to reach the knots with my teeth, trying to pull my wrists through the ropes, anything I could think of to free myself. Nothing worked. Exhausted, panting, I gave up and stood there wearily, wondering what was going to happen to me next.

Looking around, I could see that I was in a fairly large room, no windows, only one door. The walls and floor were covered with soft beige/gold carpeting. There was a fireplace and in front of it a large comfortable looking chair. So far, so good. Then I looked behind me. In one corner of the room was what looked like a jail cell, or a cage. It was about four or five feet square, and about six feet high. Black iron bars. On the wall near it I saw an assortment of whips, belts, leather straps which I later learned were collars and cuffs of all sizes and types, blindfolds, handcuffs, and many more items. I’d already figured out this guy wasn’t just going to rape me and let me go. But now I was really terrified.

Again, I began to struggle, to try to free myself. My wrists were beginning to be scraped and bruised from trying to get loose. I wasn’t concerned about my wrists. I was frightened that if I didn’t get away, this guy might really hurt me or even kill me. After totally exhausting myself, I finally gave up and just stood there, waiting for whatever was going to happen to happen.

Odd though it sounds, I may have actually dosed off for a few minutes, when I felt a slight draft and heard the soft sound of a door closing. Startled, I looked up, right into the face of my captor. Since I didn’t have my glasses on, I couldn’t see very well. I could see he was tall, with dark hair and a mustache. And he was grinning! Alarmed, I realized that he would know that I had defied his warning not to struggle, since obviously, my wrists were red and raw, and my blindfold had been pushed down around my neck. He approached, and with arms crossed across his chest, he looked me up and down in an appraising way.

He told me that he had been watching me for the past three hours on a remote video display, and that my struggles had been recorded for posterity on a video tape. He said that everyone has to have a chance to try to escape and realize it is futile. Once it is “out of your system” he said, a captive becomes much more eager to please and more resigned to the situation.

Now he told me he had a few rules that we were going to discuss. He said he had done this many, many times before, and that I was not going to get away. He promised that if I was obedient and pleasing to him, he would release me after 48 hours. If, however, I was disobedient or failed to please him in any way, my captivity would continue indefinitely.

The first rule was that I was not speak unless asked a question or told to speak, and that I was not to ask him anything about himself – his name, occupation, age, NOTHING.

The second rule was that I had to know that for the next 48 hours, everything I said and did would be recorded and video taped.

I would have to be cooperative and eager to please in every way. I would be expected to answer any questions fully and without hesitation, and I would be required to actively participate in the activities in which I would be involved for the next two days. He told me that now he was going to untie my hands, and I would be given a chance to shower and make myself presentable. After he freed my hands, I rubbed them and he walked over to a door I hadn’t previously noticed, and opened it. Inside was a full bathroom, with a shower and a sunken tub, a toilet, a washbasin, etc. He pointed out a new toothbrush, still in its package, and toothpaste, my favorite brand. I wondered if it was a coincidence, or if he somehow knew what I liked. On the dressing table was a hairbrush, cosmetics, even my favorite cologne. By now I was beginning to suspect that this man knew more about me than I could have imagined. He told me to shower, and get totally cleaned up for him, inside and out. He pointed out a razor and told me to shave completely for him – underarms, legs, and pubic areas. He told me he expected me to douche, as well, and I saw the disposable douche sitting by the tub. I waited for him to leave the bathroom so that I could do these things, but he told me to commence immediately – that he was going to watch. Still, I stood there, hesitant. He asked what I was waiting for. I asked him if he could leave for just a minute, so I could use the toilet. He reminded me that for the next 48 hours, I was going to be on display totally, and told me to use it with him there. I couldn’t do that. He told me to SIT!, so I sat on the toilet. I just couldn’t pee with him watching. He told me to either do it or be aware that 48 hours could become indefinite. I sat there embarrassed and miserable, and finally, after a long time, it began to trickle out, then become a deafening steady stream. Finished, I wiped myself dry and stood up, flushing the toilet.

Now I stepped into the shower and began to wash, first shampooing my hair, and then soaping my body. I shaved carefully under my arms and my legs, and then, feeling his eyes on me, I began to cautiously shave between my legs. Lathering, shaving, rinsing, and repeating this until the area between my legs was as smooth and bare as a baby’s cheek. Finally, reaching for the douche, I placed the nozzle deep inside me and began the process of cleansing my body’s inner secretions. After that, while still in the shower, I brushed my teeth and turned the shower off. He was standing there, leaning against a wall, watching me. As I wrapped a towel around my head and stepped out of the shower, drying my body, I began to feel almost relaxed. I began to realize that I had no life other than this, for the next few hours. I had no responsibilities but to obey my captor. I had no decisions or worries except how to please this man who owned me for this period of time. I knew I could hide nothing from this man, either physical or mental, and I knew I would have no privacy, no barriers, no walls between us. What a strange feeling it is to know that someone else has complete control over you, and responsibility for you. Almost, I felt more free than at any other time in my life. I was free to just feel, and experience, without having to make decisions or observe rules of propriety and social behavior.

He continued to watch as I brushed my hair and briefly used a blow dryer and curling iron (how thoughtfully he had provided these items) on it. Sparingly, I applied cosmetics, and at his instruction, put them on a bit more heavily than I would have ordinarily. I applied blusher and eye shadow and lipstick more vividly than usual, and I noticed in the mirror that I seemed to be sparkling. How strange. I don’t usually wear much make up at all, and I never realized how attractive I could be with it on. Smiling, he handed me a large pair of silver hoop earrings and I placed them in my ears. I sprayed a little cologne on my wrists, and dabbed it behind my ears and my knees. Finished, I turned from the mirror and faced him, my eyes lowered, waiting his approval. “You’re beautiful” he whispered, and lifting my chin with his hand, he kissed me and put his arms around me. I felt drawn into him like a breath, and knew that whatever he wanted, I would do, not because I was scared, but because I felt he knew me inside and out, and that I belonged to him.

We went out into the larger room, and he led me over to the chair by the fireplace. With his hands pressing my shoulders, I sank to the floor by the chair, sitting with my legs tucked under me, resting on my hands, while he lit the fireplace. He came over and sat down on the chair, and took both my hands in his. Gently he began to rub lotion into my tender, swollen wrists. He told me that I would not always like the things he did to me, or the things he required me to do. He said that was not important. He told me that I didn’t have to like it – but I had to do it. No arguments, no hesitation, no resistance. Just obedience and service was all that was expected of me. He put a wide leather collar around my throat, and placed similar leather cuffs on my wrists and ankles, and told me that wearing these was an outward show of my wish to obey and please him.

Warm, in front of the fire, my eyes grew heavy and I began to be afraid that I was going to fall asleep. He noticed this and led me over to the cell in the corner. Telling me to get down on my knees, he pointed into the cell and told me to enter and lie down. I crawled into it on my hands and knees. It wasn’t big enough for me to fully lie down, so I had to sort of curl a little. He tossed a soft blanket into the cell and told me to sleep a while, and he closed the door with a clang and went back to his chair by the fireplace. Sleepily I watched him for a moment, before I fell into a dreamless, exhausted sleep.

I was awakened some time later by the squeaking of the cell door as it opened. He told me to get on my hands and knees and crawl out. Once out, he told me to crawl to the bathroom and make myself presentable. I crawled over to the bathroom, but this time he didn’t follow me in. I used the toilet and washed up, cleaning last night’s slightly smeared make up from my face. I wondered why he hadn’t made any sexual use of me at all, perhaps he was homosexual, or maybe I didn’t turn him on. The thought that I might not be attractive to him caused a strange sort of pain to me. I wanted him to want me. I know it sounds bizarre, but I wanted him to find me attractive and sexually stimulating. I wanted to feel his hands and his lips on me, and to feel him inside me. Brushing my teeth and hair, I hurried back out to join him in front of the fire place. Now there was a small table set out, with a coffee pot, blueberry muffins, and little sausages on it. Without him telling me to, I knelt by his chair and placed my head against his knee. I noticed a dish, like a pet’s drinking bowl, in front of the fireplace, near his feet. It seemed to be filled with coffee. He noticed my look and told me to have a drink. Shy, embarrassed, but curious, I knelt and holding my hair, I cautiously sipped. It was hot coffee, creamy and sweet, just the way I like it! Astonished, I turned to face him and he was holding out a piece of blueberry muffin. As I started to reach for it, he told me to open my mouth. He fed me bit by bit, blueberry muffins and little pieces of sausage, allowing me to sip my coffee from the dish, until I had eaten a filling breakfast. He was talking to me, telling me I was like a pet, and that he was going to train me to be a good little pet.


He told me to stand in front of him, with my legs apart, and my hands behind my head. He leaned forward and taking my breast in his mouth, he sucked and licked until my nipple was standing out hard and throbbing. Turning to the other breast, he repeated the process, until I felt I could not stand still another instant. He placed of his hands behind me, in my lower back, and slid the other between my legs, as he was sucking on my breasts. His fingers, first one, then two, then three, slid into me. I felt my wetness and knew I was stretching open to meet his entire hand as it slipped inside me. He stood up, keeping his hand inside me, and as he looked down at me, quivering and arching toward him, he asked me what I wanted. “Please make love to me,” I begged, rubbing against his hand. He told me that wasn’t the way to ask. He said “making love” was not what I wanted, and asked me again what I really wanted. “I want to be fucked” I breathed. “Please fuck me.” Chuckling, he withdrew his hand and smeared my juices across my breasts before holding his fingers in front of my mouth. “Lick them clean” he commanded.

“So, you want me to fuck you,” he said. “How much do you want it?” “Very much”, I whispered; “I’ll do anything.” He reminded me that I had already promised to do anything for him, anyway, and that he would fuck me when he was in the mood. In the meantime, he said, I should show him how much I wanted to please him. Opening his robe, he pulled out his hard, thick cock, and told me to kiss it. I knelt and with my hands still behind my head, I leaned forward and kissed the tip of his cock. There was a little drop of fluid on it, and I licked it off with my tongue. He asked me if I wanted to suck it and I nodded. He told I could use my hands to hold it, and that if I really wanted to suck it, I should beg nicely. I begged him to please let me suck his beautiful cock. He said he would, but that when he came, I would have to drink every drop and swallow it. If even one drop escaped my mouth, he would never touch me again. I promised to be very careful and to catch all of his cum. He leaned back and told me I could now suck and lick him. I began by kissing it up and down, running my tongue down the base of his cock, across his balls, and back up to the tip of his cock. Licking it, I took the tip into my mouth and began to suck on it slowly and deeply, caressing his balls with my hands. I was concentrating on pleasing him and making him want me. Gradually, I noticed his breathing was getting a bit more rapid, and he was moving his hips to increase the depth and speed of his cock’s penetration of my mouth. I increased my own attention to his cock, and his hands went around my head, pushing my head up and down. Now I was not sucking his cock – he was fucking my mouth! I was helpless to do anything but hope that I could handle it all when he climaxed. With almost no warning, I suddenly felt him explode in my mouth. Swallowing rapidly, I tried not to taste it, or to think about what was going down my throat. I just tried to keep up with his thrusts and the fluids bursting into my mouth and throat. Finally, he was finished. His hands relaxed from my head, and his cock began to shrink and withdraw. I was still licking, sucking, trying to be sure that not one drop escaped, as he leaned back and said, “You’re a pretty good cocksucker.”

Leaning my head against his thigh and felt him stroke my hair. I was still very turned on from his hands, earlier, and I now hoped he would make me cum. Silently, I prayed for him to begin touching me, but I couldn’t ask for it because he had not given me permission to speak. I rubbed my breasts against his leg, and arched my body towards his hand, but he just kept absently rubbing my hair. I looked up at him, and he looked down at me and smiled. Patting my cheek, he said that he had some errands to run, and would have to leave me for a while. Standing, he took my hand and helped me to stand. He led me to the wall near the cell, where I had already noticed several objects hanging. He took my leather bound wrist and pulled it up toward a chain dangling from the wall. I noticed for the first time that there was a small metal ring on the cuff, and I watched as he clipped that wrist to the chain on the wall. Turning me around to face the wall, he pulled my other wrist several feet over, and clipped that one to a similar chain. I was facing the wall, my breasts pressed up against the gold carpet fabric, as he pulled my feet apart and chained them, also.

I turned my head and watch as he selected what appeared to be a belt from the things hanging on the wall. He strapped it around my waist, and then turned and selected a vibrator. He pushed this vibrator up inside me, turned it on, then strapped a portion of the belt between my legs, evidently to keep the vibrator inserted. I began to squirm a bit from the tingling sensations the vibrator was producing, and he patted me on my bottom, kissed the back of my neck and said, “Good bye. I’ll see you later”. The vibrator felt so good at first. Then, as I strained to rub my clit against the leather between my legs, I couldn’t quite climax. I try, but he had left me helpless do do anything but accept these stimulations. After a while, I got so frustrated that I almost start to cry. I kept thinking he’d come back in any moment, and he’d take me down and make me cum. But the time drags on and on, and still he didn’t come back. Gradually, the vibrations seemed to become more distant, almost as though I had grown accustomed, or desensitized to them. Not quite numb, but not as responsive to them as I was at first. I drift in and out of a stupor, not quite asleep, but not fully awake. Time stands still, and I no longer wait eagerly for him to return and sexually satisfy me. I now just wait for him to return to use me any way he will.

I have lost track of all time and don’t know whether it is day or night. The softly lighted room doesn’t give any clue as to time or day. I could have been here for hours, or for days. I don’t know anymore. I have only his word for it that my 48 hours is not up yet. Maybe he won’t release me after 48 hours. Already, it seems as though I have had no existence prior to this, and that I won’t have any existence after he is through with me. I don’t know any reality but this.

Suddenly, without warning, he is there, releasing my ankles and my wrists from their bondage. Unable to stand, I slump against him and feel him ease me down to the soft, carpeted floor. He removes the belt from between my legs and around my waist, and takes the vibrator out of me. Smiling, he brushes the hair back from my face and asks if I’ve missed him. I nod, unable to speak as he caresses my face and runs his hands over my body. I am trembling, and I realize that my body is responding to his touch in a most shameless way. I want to beg him to fuck me, but I can’t speak. Without consciously deciding to do so, I part my legs and open myself up to his gaze and his touch. He gently touches my clit, which causes me to jump, I am so sensitive by now. Laughing softly, he inserts a finger into me, asking “Is this what you want?” Again, I nod, clenching my internal muscles tightly around his finger, and rubbing against his hand. He begins to move his fingers in and out of me rhythmically, building my desire higher and higher, until I am gasping, writhing, ready to climax. Just as I approach climax, he withdraws his hand. I whimper in protest, and grab his hand, trying to place it back within me. He just shakes me off and tells me to lie still. I have given my promise that I will be obedient, so I lie still, aching and throbbing and wanting to be satisfied. I promise myself that at the earliest opportunity, I will satisfy myself. Who needs him?

He must have read my mind, or perhaps he interpreted the secret look which may have been in my eyes. He asked if I wanted to climax. I nodded, smiling hopefully. He told me that if I really wanted to climax, I would have to be very obedient. First, he said, I would have to get on my hands and knees and crawl to the center of the room. Immediately I obeyed his instruction. Now, he said, lie on my back with my legs spread, which I did. He told me to start touching myself, beginning with my breasts, and continuing down to my things and pussy. I stared at him, not believing what he was saying. He wanted me to touch myself, in front of him, knowing that somewhere a concealed camera was recording this.

In a stern voice, he commanded, “NOW!” and I shyly, hesitantly started caressing my breasts, moving my hands slowly down my ribs, across my stomach, down my thighs, my inner thighs, to that hidden, moist part of me. As I hesitated, he commanded, “DO IT!”, and I began slow, circular rubbing motions on my clit, and ran my fingertips over those soft, smooth lips. I began to be very very turned on, and soon it didn’t seem to matter that he was watching me. I grew more and more heated, closer to climax, and he watched me more intently. Soon, his watching me seemed to increase my excitement, and I felt myself open up to him even more. I held the lips open with one hand, while my fingers played over my clit and slid inside myself, pumping in and out with increasing fervor. Closer and closer I came to climax, and he knew it. Lying there, with my legs open and my back arched, I played with myself for his entertainment. Gasping, I came, and after a few minutes, or an eternity, I lay quietly, exhausted and released in a way I had never known before.

He came over and knelt on the carpet in front of me, parting my legs, and bending over, he began to lick and tongue my sensitive clit. Gently, he stimulated and thrilled me with his knowledgeable tongue, rearousing my desire and bringing me again to the brink of climax. With one swift, smooth motion, he lifted himself onto me, and slid his cock deep inside me, stretching me and filling me up. Slowly, steadily, he began to slide in and out of me with that hard, pulsating cock, and my body began to pump in rhythm with him. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and using my hands to cling to his shoulders, I raised my hips off the floor in order to take every inch of him deep inside me. I looked up, into his amused eyes, as he took my breath away with his skilled movements. Faster and faster we began to move, as he slid even deeper into me. We were both sweating and panting, as he increased the rhythm even more. Suddenly, he grew harder, bigger in me. With a sudden tensing of his back I felt an explosion of hot, fiery liquid fill me. As he kept pumping away, I began to cum. Crying, my inner barriers totally destroyed, I screamed, “I love you” to this stranger who was holding me captive. We lay there on the floor for a few moments longer, with him still inside me, and holding me, while my breathing calmed and my body relaxed. I looked up and whispered into his chest, “I love you”. He looked down and sort of smiled. “You’ll be punished for speaking without permission,” he said. Although he spoke softly, he had a look on his face that told me he meant it. I shuddered as I wondered what he could have in mind for my punishment.

After a short time, he crawled up and putting his wet, sticky cock into my mouth, told me to lick it clean. I don’t like the taste or the smell of cum, yet I did as he wished. I no longer feared that the captivity would last forever – I worried that I might displease him and he would set me free! I had already displeased him by speaking without permission.

Standing up, he bent and helped me to my feet. Leading me over to the cell, he pushed me against it and using handcuffs, cuffed my hands to different bars, stretching me across the cell. He went to his wall of devices, and took down a sort of whip, with several strands of leather which all braided into a handle. He brought the whip over and gently, softly brushed it against my face, down across my breasts, around on my back, down to my bottom. As the whip caressed me gently, he spoke to me, telling me that since this was my first disobedience, the punishment would be slight. He told me to close my eyes and keep them closed until he gave me permission to open them. Frightened, I did as he commanded. I felt him withdraw from me, and I stood there, with my arms extended, shivering from both fear and cold. He told me to open my legs. He said that no matter what, I had to keep them open, and that if I closed them, I was immediately to resume the position with them open. I spread my legs wider, and felt the tension in my arms increase as they were pulled even farther because of this shift in my position. Without warning, I felt the whip strike my lower back and bottom. Several distinct, separate stings indicated that many of the strands had hit in different areas at once. I squirmed and cried out, closing my legs and pressing against the cold bars of the cell as I tried to overcome the pain.

His hand pulling my head back by the hair was accompanied by his voice, harshly commanding me to resume my position. Shuddering, I once again stood straight, with my legs spread. Another slash of the whip, this time across my bottom so that the tips of the strands wrapped around my body to sting my abdomen. Again, I writhed against the bars and again was commanded to stand up.

Again and again his whip struck my body, sometimes hitting new flesh, sometimes hitting welts which were already raising across my body. He whipped my upper back, and the strands wound around me to my breasts. He seemed to favor my inner thighs and often aimed it up between my legs. Even though I knew pain and felt the harshness of the whip, I sensed that he was not striking me as hard as he might have. I felt that he was not using full strength, and I was thankful. He measured out the strokes, sometimes slowly, with several long minutes between each stroke, sometimes two or three or more one right after the other, without giving me a chance to catch my breath.

I was crying, sobbing, with pain and humiliation, as well as with the knowledge that I meant nothing to him. How could he whip me if he loved me as I had thought I loved him? And, since I had told him that I loved him, and since he had been so gentle with me, didn’t that mean he must love me, too?

When he had finished whipping me, he threw the whip to the ground and left the room without another word to me. Sobbing, I leaned against the cell bars and wept until I could cry no more. Standing there, helpless, covered with welts and having cried myself to the point of total exhaustion, I began to feel something deeper than love. I began to feel devotion to this man who had been so cruel to me. I began to perceive his actions not as cruelty, but as justice. I had disappointed him and had disobeyed him. It was only right and reasonable that I be punished. He provided shelter and warmth, food and love to me, and all he required was my obedience. I was lucky to have received only a whipping. What if he had decided to abandon me because of my failure to obey him?

He left me there a long time, and during that time I vowed to become more obedient, more pleasing. I promised myself that I would place his pleasure above all else, and that I would expect nothing from him – not love, or sexual pleasure or physical comfort. Anything he wanted to do to me, I would accept willingly and gladly, in the knowledge that I was pleasing him by my subjugation. When he finally returned and released me from my cuffs, I fell to my knees and kissed his feet, silently telling him with my movements and behavior that I was his to do with as he pleased. After a few moments of my kissing and licking his feet, he told me to go take a shower and put on my makeup. He stood me up and removed my collar and cuffs, pointed me in the direction of the bathroom, and sent me on my way.

I quickly took a shower and brushed my hair and teeth. I applied makeup as rapidly as I could, including cologne, and went out into the main room again. He turned to look at me, and began to speak. “We’re going to have company tonight. How you behave will reflect on me. If you disappoint me, you will regret it for the rest of your life. No matter what is done to you – no matter what is required of you – your obedience is vital. Is that understood?” I nodded and was rewarded by his warm smile. “Good,” he said. “Since you are going to be the centerpiece tonight, we’d better get started arranging you before the guests arrive.” First, he made me kneel down on some sort of raised platform, and put a blindfold around my eyes. Something small and rubbery – like a little rubber penis – was pushed into my mouth, and a band around my head secured it. My knees were pushed far apart and my wrists were cuffed to my ankles, keeping me in a kneeling position, slightly back, with my legs open and my breasts thrust out. He left me there in silence and went out of the room. I could faintly hear his footsteps as he walked away.


A short time later, I seemed to hear many soft footsteps. Then, a slight brush of cold air and the sound of several voices told me that I was no longer alone. People were in the room with me – looking at me, touching me. Discussing my physical appearance and sexual possibilities. Someone was probing between my legs, commenting on how wet I was. Someone else was rubbing my nipples, pulling on them, causing me to wince from the sharp little pain. I heard my captor discussing my abilities as a cocksucker, and someone asking about the welts which were clearly visible across my body. There seemed to be several people, perhaps three or four men, and at least two women, standing around me chatting. The gag was removed from my mouth, but I didn’t speak. Someone asked my captor if I’d been introduced to Prince yet, and he said, no, he’d been waiting in order to let them watch. A kind of excited, whispered chatter was going on, and then I felt two or three people untying my hands from my wrists, and turning me over onto my knees. My captor came up to me and in a low voice, told me that I was to be still and be obedient, no matter what was about to happen to me. On my hands and knees, I felt an expectant hush fall on the crowd. Suddenly, a cold, wet nose pressed against my pussy. A long, rough tongue began to lick me and I could hear an animal panting. It was a dog! They had brought a dog in to lick me while they watched. I wanted to scream and jump up and run away, but I knew they’d catch me and it would be worse. More importantly, I knew I didn’t want to disappoint my captor, or humiliate him by disobeying him in front of his friends. So I remained in position while this animal panted and licked and sniffed at me. Then I felt his paws go up on my shoulders, and I felt human hands part me, holding me open as the dog’s cock slid into me. I couldn’t stay still for this. I started to move away, but many hands held me, and again I heard my captor’s voice, commanding me to hold my position and behave. I knelt there in front of those people and knew that I had reached the lowest point a woman could go – to be fucked by an animal while strangers watched and jeered. Yet I knew that I would willingly submit to ten times this humiliation and degradation if it would please the man to whom I had given my heart in these past few hours.

After the dog had finished with me and been led away, I was allowed to lie on the platform and everyone seemed to lose interest in me. They drifted off into another part of the house, or maybe they went home. I know only that for some period of time I was left alone, in silence, and my mind wandered. I tried to convince myself that this had only been a nightmare, and that any minute I would wake and find myself sleeping in my own bed, and none of this had ever happened.

My captor came back in and sat down on the platform beside me. He removed my blindfold and cradled my head in his lap, speaking to me in his low, gentle voice. He told me he was very proud of me, and that I had behaved beautifully. He said that of all the women he’d ever had, I had been the best centerpiece and that he was very happy that his friends had been so well entertained.

“Now,” he said, with his eyes shining, “it is time for you to begin to learn the meaning of bondage”. With that, he stood and went over to the wall where all his equipment was displayed. Coming back to sit in the chair by the fireplace, he told me to come and stand in front of him. He was carrying a lot of rope, and a knife. Standing in front of him, with my legs open, and my eyes heavy with lack of sleep, I knew no fear. Just acceptance of whatever he wanted from me. He began by tying a couple of strands of rope around my waist. Then, he ran a couple of strands up between my legs, cutting into my pussy, and up the crack of my bottom, and securing these to the ropes around my waist. He cut the ends, and then looped pieces of rope through the metal rings on my cuffs, and secured my hands by running the pieces of rope through the one at my waist. He kept wrapping me in rope – around my upper arms, across my chest and arms, around my wrists and hips – around my upper thighs – my knees – my ankles. I felt totally trussed up as he laid me down flat on my back in front of the fireplace.

He sat in the chair and rested his feet on my breasts, seeming to relax as he sat there and gazed at me. Uncomfortable, yet unwilling to disappoint him, I lay there and felt the weight of his warm, smooth feet, and knew that I wanted to lie at his feet forever.

After a while, he got up and without a word, left the room. Alone, tied at the foot of his chair, I lay there and thought about him and wondered if I was as pleasing to him as other women had been under the same circumstances. The minutes passed slowly, and became hours, and when he finally returned, I was past the point of discomfort or pain. I had become numb everywhere the ropes were pressing into me. When he began to cut the ropes from around my body, as the circulation returned, my aches grew into agonies. Yet, I lay passively and did not squirm or rub my stiff, cold body. I lay and waited his command. When he did speak, it was to softly tell me I could crawl into my cell now. Stiffly, slowly, I got to my hands and knees and began to crawl to my cell.

When I got there, I saw he had placed a bowl of water and a small tray of food there for me. Gratefully, I looked up at him, having forgotten until that moment that I was thirsty and hungry. He told me that I could eat and drink but that I must not use my hands to do so. I was a pet and must act like one. He went back to his chair, and watched me as I ate my meal and drank the water he had provided for me. When I was finished, he brought a warm cloth and carefully wiped my mouth and face. Then, he pointed to the other corner of the room, and I saw a large, shallow box. He told me to crawl over to use it. Puzzled, I crawled over to the box and looked at it. It seemed to be filled with fine gravel, and I looked at him, questioningly. “Well, pet, don’t you have to pee?” he asked. Horrified, I looked from him to the box and realized it was a litter box! Yet, he had commanded me to use it, and I did indeed have to urinate. I crawled into the box, and squatting, peed into the litter material. When I was finished, I crawled out of the box and knelt there, waiting for his instructions. He tossed me a warm cloth and told me to wipe myself, which I did. Then he told me I could crawl into my cell and sleep. Wearily, I crawled into the cell and wrapped myself in the blanket he had provided. He closed the cell door and went away.

I was awakened by the sound of the iron cell door swinging open, and his voice telling me it was time to get up. I was so snug and warm in my blanket that I didn’t want to move. His voice became more insistent, and in one swift movement, he pulled the blanket off me and tossed it to the floor outside the cell. Cold and shivering, I crawled out of the cell and knelt quietly, waiting for him to tell me what to do. He told me to go and shower, quickly, and hurry. He said he had some plans for me, and he didn’t want to waste any time getting started. He helped me to stand, and patted my behind as I hurried to shower.

I showered, washed and dried my hair, brushed my teeth, used the toilet, put on light make-up, and applied a light spray of cologne before hurrying back to him.

When I came out of the bathroom, I saw a door that I had not noticed before standing open. He was standing in the doorway, and when he saw me, he motioned for me to join him. I walked over to him, and peered into the room. There was a chair, a wooden table, and a machine that looked almost like a polygraph machine. He indicated that I should sit in the chair, and after I had done so, he began to attach wires to my nipples, my clit, and each side of my labia. He used small strips of adhesive tape to attach the wires. The wires were connected to the machine on the table.

“Now,” he said, pointing to the machine on the table, “we will see how determined you are to please me. This machine is designed to render measured shocks to portions of your body. This dial,” he said, pointing to a dial on the machine, “determines the intensity of the shock you will receive. For instance, 1 is the slightest possible shock, and 10 is the most intense. For demonstration purposes, I am going to give you a brief taste of each end of the scale.” With that, he turned the dial to “1” and pressed a button on the side of the machine. A brief moment of tingling on my right breast introduced me to the machine. Looking at me, he turned the dial to “10” and pressed the button again. A flash of agony shot through my right breast and I screamed in shock and surprise as I jumped from my seat in the chair. Even though it lasted only a split second, it left me sweating and panting, out of breath and weak. I looked at him in disbelief and he smiled, saying “I told you I would require things you wouldn’t like.

He pointed to a clock on the wall and told me that I was to keep track of the time, and every five minutes, I was to give myself another shock. He said I could determine the intensity of the shock, and that the machine would record each shock I gave myself. My obedience and my willingness to accept pain would demonstrate my desire to please him. He set the clock at 12 and turned back to the table.

He flipped a switch on the side of the machine and told me that the shocks would be directed randomly, that I would not be able to determine which portion of my body would receive the shock. It could be one or more, or all five wires at once. With that, he kissed me and walked out, closing the door behind him.

Popping his head back around the door, he said, “Oh, by the way, this will be one full hour – twelve shocks. Don’t disappoint me.

Eyeing the clock, and apprehensively counting the minutes, I hesitantly turned the dial to “5”. At the five minute mark, I gulped and timidly pushed the button. Nothing. Resolutely, I pushed it harder and was answered by a stinging sensation around my left nipple that radiated up into my breast. It lasted for only a heartbeat, but it was enough to cause sweat to form on my upper lip. As I breathed deeply and relaxed back into the chair, I began to think, “that wasn’t so bad. I can handle that okay. Well, maybe if I can handle a “5”, perhaps I can do a “6”. So, less timidly, I moved the dial ahead one notch. When the five minutes was up, I leaned forward and firmly pressed the button. With a scream of surprise and pain, I almost leapt off the chair. This time I’d been shocked in all of the five wired areas. Only briefly, but it was enough to bring tears to my eyes. Gasping and rocking, I tried to calm my breathing and resettle myself in the chair.

I quickly redialed the setting down to a “4” and nervously watched the clock. I pushed the button and was given a relatively mild shock, this time through the wire attached to my clitoris. It was almost pleasant, a warm pulsating tingle. I moved the dial again to “5” and with less reserve, I pushed the button. This time, both my breasts received the stinging needles of electricity, and I gripped the arms of the chair, trying to slow my breathing down as the sensation dissipated. Although the room was warm, I was slightly chilled, and I realized I was sweating lightly, and that was causing the chill. Another five minutes passed, and when I pressed the button this time, one or more of the wires to my labia responded with a stinging, almost burning, shock. I couldn’t tell anymore which area was receiving the shock. I only knew generalities. Maybe I was becoming numb or desensitized. Maybe I was building up a tolerance.

Thinking to please him, I adjusted the dial upward to a 6″ and at the proper time, pressed the button. One breast received the jolt, and it wasn’t nearly as bad as the other “6” I had tried. Almost, I was disappointed. I had expected something . . . more and had unconsciously prepared myself to be brave.

I watched the clock. Bracing myself firmly against the chair, I turned the dial once again, this time to “7” and pressed the button. My clitoris and right nipple leaped as the current passed through them. I held tightly to the arms of the chair and did not scream. I had expected this much pain, and I accepted it without resistance.

Too soon, another five minutes had passed. Unable to face the thought of further pain, I couldn’t bear to turn the dial up another setting. Gritting my teeth, I pressed the button and felt the charge flow through both my nipples and labia. I was breathing deeply, trying to absorb the pain, and as I breathed, and tried to relax, I realized that nearly an hour had passed. I had only two more shocks to go. Two more times to press that awful button. Two more opportunities to prove my worth to this man who had somehow become the center of my world.


Hesitantly, yet firmly resolved, I pushed the dial up to “8”, telling myself that the sensation could last only for a split second, that I could survive anything. All I had to do was press the button and accept whatever the machine sent me. Once again I pressed the button, and once again all five wires responded, lifting me out of the chair as I fought the urge to scream. At last, my muscles relaxed and I was able to sit down in the chair. I realized I was sobbing, and couldn’t seem to stop. Slowly, the minutes ticked past. One final push of that button and I would be finished.

Still crying softly, I impulsively, without pausing to think, dialed the setting to “10” and pushed the button. Both my breasts received the full force of the machine’s current. Biting my lips and gripping the arms of the chair, I let the tears flow and knew it was over. I had on my own taken the full amount of current. That would please him, I felt certain.

Gradually my breathing returned to normal and my tears dried. I began to be aware of another sensation in my body – a wetness between my legs. I couldn’t believe it, but I recognized the signs. I was turned on. The electrical currents had done more than introduce pain and discipline to me – they had excited and stimulated my body. I was as hot as I’d ever been, and the realization dawned on me that perhaps this man had known the effect these wires would have on me. I reached down and touched myself, softly, gently, and began to rub, almost without realizing what I was doing. Slowly, tenderly, I felt the soft, smooth skin of my labia and clit, and began to rub more vigorously, building to a climax.

A few moments, and I was ready to cum. Just another few seconds, and I would explode! Then, he opened the door and walked in. Firmly taking my hands in his, he relentlessly held me back from accomplishing even this simple release. Wordlessly, he began to remove the taped wires, gently rubbing each area as he pulled the tape from it.

As he helped me to rise, and we walked from the room, he put his arm around my shoulders. “Very good!” he said. “I’ve been watching, and been very pleased with your performance so far.” I leaned against him, warmed in the glow of his approval. It seemed as though I had never had a life outside these walls. How distant everything seemed – a faded memory that held no reality for me any longer.

He walked beside me, with his arm around my shoulders as we went back into the big room which had become my whole world. My left breast brushed against his chest and his hand cupped my right breast, gently squeezing it, as we walked together. Warm, tired, and very, very turned on, I was hoping he would fuck me thoroughly. Instead, he led me over to a large, low cushioned bench he had placed near the center of the room. Long pieces of rope were attached at each of its four corners.

He bent me over until from the waist up, I was lying flat, my breasts pressed into the cushion of the bench, with my knees on the floor. Using the pieces of rope, he secured my cuffed wrists to the front legs of the bench. He fastened wide leather cuffs around my thighs, and attached them to the back legs of the bench by the ropes. He reached between my widely parted legs and stroked my pussy lips gently as I lay there quivering.

I felt his finger slowly enter my ass, and I concentrated on relaxing and breathing deeply, so that I wouldn’t tighten and cause myself to feel more pain at this penetration. He put something cool and slippery around the small opening, some kind of lubricant, and as I moaned slightly, I felt a large dildo being pushed deep into my ass. He leaned forward, bending over me, and began to nibble, and lick the back of my neck and upper shoulders. Running his tongue lightly down my back, over my ass cheeks, he played his hands over my body with a feathery touch. Squirming, moaning with mixed pleasure and pain, I ached for the release he had earlier denied me. With a chuckle and a light smack on my bottom, he left the room.

I don’t know how long I remained in that sad predicament. I know only that it seemed hours until my burning need had subsided to a throbbing ache. Except for the discomfort caused by the dildo, and the pressure on my knees, I was not uncomfortable. I no longer struggled to free myself. I merely resigned myself to accepting whatever life – and this man – offered me. As I knelt there my mind drifted to thoughts of another life – the life I led before being brought to this place. It seemed so far away and so unreal. I absently wondered if I’d ever really be able to go back to being the way I was before Friday night.

It was almost a disappointment when he returned some time later and removed the dildo. When he removed it, I realized how uncomfortable it had become. Yet, strangely, I rather missed it. Either I was becoming more and more accustomed to this bizarre life style, or I had always been like this and never before realized it.

Deep in thought, I didn’t realize that after he had removed the dildo, he walked over to the wall and selected a broad leather strap. The first indication I had was a resounding “THWACK” against my bottom. With a shriek, I jumped so hard that the bench moved slightly. Looking back over my shoulder, I saw his arm raised for another blow, and I cried out, begging him not to hit me again. Unheeding of my pleas, he again brought the belt down across my ass. Relentlessly, the blows fell as I sobbed and pled with him to stop. He paid no attention to my cries and continued again and again until I lay sobbing, exhausted, unable to react any further. Then he stopped, and sat on the head of the bench and stroked my hair as I grew quiet and my breathing calmed.

When I had quieted, he removed the ropes from my cuffs, and the cuffs from my body. He told me to shower and put on some make up and come back. Shakily, I rose and went into the bathroom, resisting the temptation to rub my stinging backside as I walked. Once in the bathroom, I turned my head and looked into the mirror, fascinated by the wide red welts I could see raised across my back, thighs, and bottom. Gingerly, I showered, taking care not to rub those areas very hard as I soaped and rinsed. I tried not to get my hair wet, so I wouldn’t have to take time to dry it. Getting out of the shower, I toweled dry and brushed my hair, touching it up slightly with the curling iron. I applied makeup and cologne as quickly as I could, and went back out to join him.

Entering the larger room again, I noticed a small table set with plates, silverware, glasses, etc., next to his chair in front of the fireplace. We walked over to the chair and he sat in it, as I knelt beside him. He handed me a goblet of liquid and as I sipped it, I realized he’d chosen my favorite white wine. Was there anything about me that this man didn’t know? As I sipped the wine, appreciating its mellow coolness, he leaned back in his chair and began to talk to me. “You’ve done very well up to now, pet,” he began. “I have been carefully observing your responses and behavior, and I believe you are an exceptional woman. In only a few hours, I will keep my promise and release you. Does that thought make you happy?”

I knew I should be happy that he was really going to release me. It was, after all, the way a normal woman would have reacted. She would be overjoyed. I couldn’t understand why the thought of being sent away from him made me feel sad. After all, I had never seen him before, and still had not even seen him clearly. I didn’t know his name, or anything about him. Why was I so saddened at the thought of never seeing him again? As I was pondering this strange feeling, I realized he was speaking again. ” . . . so much more I have planned for you. Perhaps, if you’re very, very good, I may allow you to return at some time in the future. Does that interest you?” Eagerly, I nodded, and he told me I could speak. I said, breathlessly, “I don’t want to leave. Don’t you want me to stay?” He reminded me that I had a life outside this one – a job, friends, commitments. Vaguely, I remembered another place, another time. But nothing as important as this. No one as important to me as this man in front of me. He went on to tell me that people would worry if I didn’t return soon – that questions would be asked, and an investigation would be made. Neither of us would want that, would we, he asked. I replied that no, it wouldn’t be easy for us to remain as we were if someone really wanted to find me.

I began to think of a life without him in it. Never to see him again. Never to experience the joy of serving him and knowing I had pleased him. The anticipation of pain, the thrill of pleasure, all would be taken from me if he sent me away.

With regret, I knew that logically, I must return to my former life. There might be trouble for him or for me – or for both of us – if he did not send me back. That helped a little. The thought that my willingly leaving would cause less trouble for him than if I stayed. I found myself placing his needs and desires above my own – something I had rarely done with anyone else in my life.

He reached down and took the glass from my trembling fingers, and I realized with surprise that I had emptied it. He pulled me up on to his lap and held me as I rested my head against his shoulder. He must have known what I was feeling. Quietly, without speaking, we sat like that for a long time.

Then, after a while, he began to gently put my collar and cuffs around my throat and wrists. They seemed so comfortable now. Like they belonged on me. Wearing them gave me a feeling of security, and I was glad he’d put them back on me.

Almost gently, he pushed me off his lap, down to the floor by his feet. He told me to kneel, shoulders back, knees wide apart. He instructed me to put my hands face up on my thighs and to lower my eyes. He told me not to look up or to speak until he had given me permission to do so.

I knelt there for a brief while, when a knock on the door startled me. Almost, I looked up, but remembering his instructions, I kept my eyes lowered and did not see who was at the door he opened.


I heard him speaking softly with someone, but I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. The low voices seemed to come from near the door, and grow nearer. I sensed, rather than saw, someone walking around me, and with surprise, I heard a woman’s voice, saying, “I like her looks. I’d like to try her out. Bring her into the white room.” He put the soft blindfold around my eyes and stood me up, leading me slowly through the room, through a doorway, and into another room. He guided me to a soft, satin covered bed, and told me to sit, which I did. I heard the soft rustle of clothing and smelled a woman’s perfume. A soft nipple brushed my lips, and a woman’s low voice told me to lick it. As I licked around the stiffening nipple and breast, I felt her other breast warm against my cheek. Then, it replaced the one I had been licking and again I felt a nipple harden against my tongue and lips. Placing her hands on my shoulders, she pushed me backward onto the bed, climbing on top of me. Her thighs on each side of my head, she lowered herself down on my face and told me to lick her cunt.

I couldn’t do that! I had never touched a woman before, especially not that way. As I hesitated, she grabbed my hair and ground her wet pussy against my face. The pain caused me to gasp, and as opened my mouth and she pushed herself down onto it. The pain from having my hair pulled was unbelievable. With tears in my eyes from the pain and from the humiliation, I began tentatively to lick. When she felt my tongue gingerly exploring, she eased up her grip on my hair, and lifted her body up slightly, to allow my face a bit more freedom. I licked her slowly and inexpertly, trying not to think about what I was doing and trying to ignore the slightly salty taste of this woman’s secretions. I wondered if he was watching, and I knew he would be. Probably taping it, also. He had told me that everything I did would be recorded.

She instructed me in how to lick her and how to suck gently on her clit. Soon her body began to move faster and faster, and she pressed herself even harder against my mouth. I heard her breathing quicken, and a tiny moan came from her. Suddenly, she was lifted from me, and as I lay there, breathing freely once again, I felt the weight on the bed shift as he climbed onto her. Right next to my blindfolded face, I heard and felt their move- ments as he entered her and fucked her. They were both breathing hard, and I heard his flesh smack against hers rhythmically. My excitement grew as I heard them moving increasingly faster. When they climaxed, I knew it, and I ached with my unreleased passions.

He climbed over my face, and put his wet, sticky cock into my mouth, telling me to clean him. I licked their mingled juices from his cock and his balls, and I wasn’t surprised when he rolled me over with my face pressed into her wet pussy and told me to eat his cum from her.

When I had finished to their satisfaction, he told me to lay on my back, with my arms outstretched. He fastened each of my cuffed wrists to opposite corners of the bed. Then he brought my ankles up and secured them to the corresponding corners, bending me in half on the bed. Leaving the blindfold in place, they left the room. I was spread wider open than I had ever imagined I could be, and left in an uncomfortable, very vulnerable position. I had to endure this for several hours. When he finally returned and released me, my arms and thighs were aching horribly, after having been stretched out in such a cruel fashion.

He led me upstairs and out through the cooler, cement paved area. I wondered if he was going to release me, and I wanted to ask him but didn’t dare. I couldn’t hear or smell the woman. Nude, he placed me in the back of the van and told me to kneel quietly or he would have to tie me and gag me. Obediently, I remained kneeling as he climbed into the front and started the engine. We drove for a while before coming to a stop. When he helped me out of the van, I felt a breeze, and smelled earth and grass. I knew I was outside, but I didn’t have any idea where we were.

Stumbling, I followed as he guided me into a building. I heard several voices and music, and I thought I was at some kind of party. Hands grasping me, squeezing me, groping at me. I tried to shrink back against him for shelter from those searching hands, but he pushed me into them and I couldn’t find him again as I was surrounded by bodies and hands. Roughly they pushed me back and forth, and I was pushed down flat on my back onto the floor. A cock entered my mouth, and as my legs were pulled open, a man got between them and pushed his cock into me.

I struggled for breath as their weights held me down. I could hear voices as people cheered them on. When they were finished, two more men took their places, and then two more, and on and on until they were finished with me and left me lying there weak and unmoving. I was covered with sweat – theirs and mine. Dried cum spotted my face and body – even my hair. I felt bruised and battered. For a few minutes I lay there, until someone said, “Hey, look at her. She’s a mess! Let’s give her a shower.” They pulled me to my feet and led me into another room. I felt cold tile under my knees as they forced me to kneel, and assumed I was in a bathroom or shower room. I knelt quietly, waiting for the water, when I was shocked and startled to feel a hot, stinging sensation of a small stream of water began to hit my face, neck, and chest areas. But it wasn’t water. The bitter smell of urine filled my nostrils and I knew what kind of shower they had planned for me. Other streams joined the first, and I felt several men’s pee as it ran over me. They laughed and joked about it as I knelt there in helpless submission.

They finished and I remained kneeling, the urine drying in my hair and on my body while they stood around me and made crude comments about my appearance and my situation. Soon they tired of staring at me and I heard their voices diminish in the distance as they drifted away. My knees were sore against the cold hard tile and I ached to just lie down and stretch out, but I didn’t move. A hand touched my shoulder, and another hand cupped my elbow, gently helping me to stand. I felt a man’s nude body supporting me as I sagged weakly against him. Without a word, he helped me to another part of the tiled room. A few moments, and a rush of warm, sweet water was cascading down over our heads. His gentle hands soaped and lathered my body, washing away all the filth and horror of the past few hours. A whispered voice (was it my captor’s?) told me to keep my eyes closed, and the blindfold was removed. Then, tenderly, thoroughly, my hair was shampooed and rinsed. As the water poured down over my face, I opened my mouth and rinsed the taste of those unknown men out of it. I was feeling so clean and free.

The water stopped and he briskly toweled me dry, including my hair. A scarf or cloth was tied firmly in place around my eyes, and I was led, shivering, across the tile floor and through a door. I could tell that once again, I was outside, because of the breeze and noises. He had dressed, but I was nude and still damp from the showers. The breeze was cold and I was chilled by the time we reached the vehicle. It was, I thought, the same van in which I’d been transported thus far. He helped me to climb into it and told me to keep quiet. With that, he closed the door and went around to get in the driver’s side. I curled up on the floor in a little ball, trying to get warm, and wondered what was going to happen next.

The van rocked slightly as he drove, and my thoughts drifted. I began to be warmer, and as tired as I was, I may have dozed off for a few minutes. When the van stopped, he joined me in the back. He sat me up, leaning against his chest, and he put his arms around me. A cold chain, with something even colder dangling from it, was placed around my neck. He held me and spoke to me. “I’m very proud of you,” he said quietly. “You have been very, very good. In fact, I think you have been the best pet I have ever had. You have earned your freedom. I am releasing you now, as I promised I would.” I began to cry as I realized that he was sending me away from him. Somehow I had begun to feel as though I belonged with him – that I had no place in the world except at his feet.

He stroked my cheek, and as the tears crept out from beneath the blindfold, he brushed them away with his fingertips. “Don’t cry, little one,” he admonished, “This isn’t good-bye. You will see me again.” With that, he left my side and opened the back door of the van. Helping me out onto the paved surface of the street, he closed the doors and led me a few feet. He put his hands on my shoulders and told me to kneel. After I had knelt on the cold pavement, he bent and kissed my lips. He told me to count to 100 before removing my blindfold, and then he was gone. The sound of the van receded in the distance as I counted. I kept listening, to hear if anyone else was around. Finally, I reached “100”. I pulled off the blindfold and blinked as my eyes tried to adapt to the dim light. It was a few moments before I realized where I was. I was in the alley behind my car port. All I had to do was walk around the end of the parking garage and a few feet into it would be my car.

As I tiptoed furtively through the night, the object on the chain around my neck bounced between my breasts. Looking at it, I saw that it was my car key! At least, I could get into my car, and hide out there until I figured what I was going to do for clothes and how I was going to get into my apartment without my keys. I had some change in the car, so I could call a friend who would bring me something to wear, and then once I was dressed I could go to the apartment manager and get a duplicate key. My thoughts were frantically racing as I tried to figure out how I could use a public telephone while totally nude, without getting arrested. Then another thought struck me – how could I even drive to a phone if I didn’t have my glasses? With all these thoughts going around in my mind, I sneaked to my car and inserted the key. Opening the door, I quickly slipped inside and with relief sat on the front seat. To my surprise, my purse was inside the car! So were the clothes I had been wearing Friday night when I was abducted. Hurriedly, I got dressed and with hope, I looked into my purse. Sure enough, there were my glasses and the rest of my keys! He had thought of everything, after all.

Now the major question on my mind was, “will I see him again?” I went into my apartment. More surprises awaited me. On the table in the living room was a lovely flower arrangement, and when I read the card, I saw, “Thanks for a wonderful time. I’ll be in touch.”


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