Alice's Capture

I woke up with a start, unsure of where I was. I was still bound at the wrists and ankles, causing me considerable alarm. I tugged at them uselessly, my breathing quickened and I melted into survival mode. The threshold of fear took over my ears and my senses faded in and out as I whimpered and struggled. I lost energy quickly, slumping back onto the bed that was my prison. I tried not to think about the night before, about his pounding in and out of me and how I'd felt.

I hadn't noticed but he was standing in the door frame of the room, leaning casually, barely glancing up at me from his post. I froze in fear. I remembered he'd had a knife last night. Was he going to kill me? That's what always happened on the news, in the movies.

"Would you like me to untie you?" He asked it in a monotone, without any real concern.

I nodded exaggeratedly, afraid he wouldn't see me. My throat was constricted.

"Then you ask, you say 'would you please untie me, Sir?'" He looked on expectantly.

"Would...would you please untie me...Sir?" He smiled slightly as I added the last syllable, giving him exactly what he wanted. He walked over to me and calmly untied me. I immediately began rubbing my chafed wrists. I barely noticed him massaging the blood back into my ankles.

"Thank you, Sir." I added.

"Yes, come on to the kitchen. You must eat some breakfast." He left as I scrambled up desperately trying to follow him. My feet hit the cold floorboards with a smack. I almost fell over, dizzy from rising so quickly. When I made it to the kitchen he was already standing there, arms crossed, staring at me with the same inky black eyes as last night.

There was no denying his handsome build. He didn't have a shirt on and I could see his well-defined abs and shoulders. His face was that of a dark angel, shadowed but beautiful.

"There is food in the fridge and cereal in the top cupboard, you may eat whatever you want." Only his jaw moved.

I carefully teetered to the cupboard, reaching as high as I could to open it. It was too high, I hopped hopelessly, unable to snag the handle. Instantly he was behind me, reaching over my head to open it, cornering me between the wood and his hard chest. He retreated back to his stance at the countertop, watching me stoically, adding to my humiliation. I was still naked.

I grabbed the first thing I saw, Cheerios, and poured a few into my hand. I realized how starving I was and ate faster. I forgot about the man standing a few feet behind me and tried to assess my situation in my mind.

I was doubtlessly in grave danger. I didn't know where I was, who I was with, or even why I was here. I knew I was in trouble, but I didn't leave. I didn't even try. It was as if an invisible tether was centering me here, gravity was keeping me from running. I turned around and briefly met the gaze of Sir before dropping my head ashamedly.

He put the box away and stood still before telling me that I must be thirsty. I drank from the glass of water he presented and then looked around at the penthouse.

He was rich. He had to be! It was a large suite, immaculately decorated in modern minimalist style. Nearly every wall was made of one-way windows, allowing its occupants to see out but no outsiders to see in. The color scheme was neutral grays and blacks, with a few accessories in red or some other complementary tone. The floors were a dark wood throughout. By the view, I could deduce that we had to be in Boston somewhere.

Wow, that really narrows it down. I thought to myself stupidly.

Suddenly, I felt his firm figure pressed behind me. He lowered his head and spoke softly into my ear. "You will go make the bed that you ruined last night."

I jumped in surprise and then nearly ran into the bedroom, pulling the covers back up. I smoothed them carefully, trying to make it perfect, ignoring the ropes that still dangled from the headboard and foot. I was afraid to leave for fear of having done it wrong.

I stepped slowly back out into the open floor plan of the main area of the apartment. I didn't know what to do with myself so I just stood there.

"Are you cold?"

I wondered at how he asked such a question without sounding at all concerned for my welfare.

"No." I said, almost inaudibly.

"No..." He repeated, stepping closer to me. "Then why are you shivering?"

"I...I'm...afraid, Sir." My shaking increased, tears began to well.

"You shouldn't be afraid. I will not kill you. I will not harm you, unless, that is, you need to be disciplined. In that case, still, you won't be harmed permanently."

"But...I can't stay here." My voice was tinged with desperation and the sobbing of my inhaled breaths.

"You will stay here. This is what you want."

In that moment it almost made sense to me why I hadn't run when I'd had the chance. I knew why I hadn't called for help. I wanted to be dominated. I'd masturbated to these thoughts for years, terribly ashamed and secretive about my desire to submit. I'd thought of little in my limited sexual endeavors but finding a man who would tell me, not ask me. I'd dreamt of little more than being bound, gagged, fucked, and given a list of chores in the morning. I wanted to be treated like a woman. No, not the type of women I'd been raised as, self-dependent, strong. No, I was the woman of meekness, obedience, and submission.

As obvious as it was, I still couldn't accept it. I couldn't deal with the shame of everyone around me if they knew my secrets. I couldn't deal with my own guilt. My life was supposed to be different.

"You have to let me go!" I said this louder. I was on the verge of begging. I couldn't sit by and watch the life my parents had built for me be wasted. Why did it feel like there was a part of me simultaneously begging for him to make me stay?

"No I don't. You will not ask me to again." His eyes became hard and removed. I was scared.

"Please."

He raised his hand and slapped my face. He didn't do it very hard but I was already wound up and it sent me tumbling to the floor. I was laying in a pool of my own tears and sweat. He had walked away but now was back. He stuck a ball gag into my mouth as I tried to gasp for breath. I continued sobbing, choking myself, needing oxygen but unable to breathe.

He picked me up and put his face right in front of mine. Our noses were centimeters away from touching. "When I tell you no, it means no."

He left me laying there, crying uncontrollably. Uncontrollable. That's how my life felt at this point. I was gone. Reality didn't exist any more. I cried and shook until my energy was drained and I laid limp and resigned on the floor.

When I'd been silent for a while, Sir came back over to me and took off the gag. I inhaled a full breath thankfully. "Good girl. Now, I want you to relax and lay on the couch."

I wobbled to the couch and relaxed. Surprisingly easy after such a hard cry. He spun me over so that my upper body was over his lap and I felt his hands rubbing into my skin. It wasn't like last night, when he'd barely tickled me. This time he was kneading the tension from my body. I laid in resignation. I couldn't deny the comfort he brought me.

Awhile later when I was dangling by a thread from consciousness, I felt his lips brushing against my shoulder blades, moving down my back. He neared my ass cheeks and caressed them gently.

"Relax." He whispered, feeling me tense beneath his grasp.

I did. He moved down to my slit, parting my lips gently, absent-mindedly stroking and circling. I was filled with unwilling pleasure. My mind told me to struggle, to tell him no. My body and sexual fantasies told me to remain still and trust him.

TRUST HIM!!?? I must've been completely crazy, still, I didn't move. His fingers got closer and closer to my now sensitive clit, circling it with precision, not exerting any pressure on it at all, teasing me. I was growing hotter with each passing second. I was riding the precarious edge between fear and high arousal. I squirmed, my body taking on a mind of its own, trying to manipulate his hand to give me what I so desperately craved.

His other hand pressed the small of my back towards the couch. "Still." He commanded, continuing his torture.

My breathing was now ragged with arousal. I knew my pussy would be sopping wet by now, and he hadn't even touched my vagina or clit! I was having a hard time remaining coherent. I wanted to beg for him to release me, but what a shame that would be! The still sane part of me had enough control to hold my tongue and my dignity by not allowing me to speak.

H picked up the pace, circling my vagina now with one hand while barely brushing my clit with the other. It was enough to banish my sense to the back of my mind. I moaned and bucked, wishing he would fuck me hard and finish my growing need for orgasm!

"Please!" I squeaked out between breaths, needing him to give me more, not caring how humiliating it was to be reduced to begging for my own orgasm.

"Please what?" He asked, semi-amused.

I cried out in frustration. Why was he making me do this? I wanted to resent and hate him but pleasure outweighed it all. I didn't say anything else for a while. He somehow kept me highly aroused while distancing himself from my clit. I was beyond frustrated.

"Please!" I whimpered it now.

"You may ask me properly, 'please give me an orgasm, Sir.'" He repeated his earlier sentiment.

Now I was at the peak of pressure, wanting two things at once. He brushed my clit again, taking me (impossibly) higher. Then, he backed off without allowing me to come down at all.

"Please sir give me an orgasm!" I cried it loudly, too far gone for humiliation to set in. He responded immediately, plunging his fingers into my gaping, soaked pussy, stroking my clit rhythmically.

I gasped and felt the mountain plateau, my insides burning. I'd never came this hard before. Suddenly, everything came crashing to Earth as every muscle in my body went rigid and my moans turned to small screams. It seemed like hours that I was like this, feeling more pleasure than had ever been bestowed on me before. Sir kept up his stroking, urging me on. It wasn't until I finally went limp in his arms that he stopped and kissed me passionately on the mouth. I was tired and spent. My vision was tunneled and blurred, yet this was the happiest I'd felt in my life.

He stopped kissing me for a few moments to whisper in my ear. "My turn."

TO BE CONTINUED...