Captivity Sets Her Free

Three dates in three weeks, three disasters, Allie just wanted to be fucked regularly. It should be the simplest thing, she thought, but somehow she could never negotiate all the associated social interactions.

Her last attempt at hooking up with a BDSM dating site partner was the worst. Conner described himself as an experienced master who would take her places she had never been before, which ended up being a pizza joint and his bedroom in his mom's house. A pair of fluffy leopard print handcuffs and some mediocre and quick missionary sex and she was out the door with no desire to go back.

Wanting so much more, she went back on the site again and found herself intrigued by a new user named NoDramaCaptor. He told her he only wanted someone to restrain and fuck, long term. He made it clear that he wasn't looking for a lover, just someone to use. When she asked for how long, he made it clear that if he found this person, it would be forever.

She didn't believe him and told him so. That's not even possible, she protested.

"Why not," he replied. "If I found the right person to consent, I truly would use them regularly and never let them go."

She went into a bit of a swoon looking at the text, thinking of new possibilities. She thought of all the disappointing times when previous partners let her go and how sadly devastated that made her feel. Physical restraint gave her this impossible high that when it went away brought her to tears. It was that emotional rollercoaster that kept her looking for more.

She told him that she could see being that someone, but it would never work. When he asked why, she explained that she was not a very good slave. That she doesn't enjoy pleasing a man. That she was way too selfish in that she loved being fucked but was not good at fucking.

"That's the beauty of this," he texted her. "You don't have to be good at it, you just have to exist. Your captor makes all of the decisions, and it's his job to get his enjoyment from using you. Once you decide to be his, nothing you do would matter anyway."

She thought about it some more and couldn't help but touch herself, rubbing her clit through the sweat pants she was wearing. "There's no way," she typed with her available hand. "I've told a few on this site about this fantasy and they all convinced me that it could not be done."

"I say it can," he answered. "All one needs is to commit and work out the details. What are your reasons it can't work?"

She thought a moment then typed a list of reasons that included: that keeping someone captive probably was illegal; that they would have to stop if medical treatment was needed; that constant attention would be needed for safety reasons; that it would be a logistical nightmare to keep someone restrained that long; that it would result in neurological, emotional, and mental damage to the woman; that one of them would tire of it eventually and want the relationship to end; and that it pretty much would end any chance at a normal life for either or both.

He countered each of her reservations.

"When I keep this person captive," he typed back, "no one will know she exists, so there will be no one to notify any authority, and therefore it wouldn't matter if it were legal. It would just be happening.

"She would understand when she consented to this that it is a complete risk. Professional medical help would never be an option. Injury or illness would either get better through over-the-counter medicine and basic first aid or it wouldn't.

"She would not need constant attention because she would know going in that when restrained, which would be always, if no one was there when she was hungry she would starve. If no one was around as the house burned around her, she would burn with all of his other possessions.

"There would be no logistical nightmare. I would always have a cage, closet, stable, iron cross, or whatever needed to keep you available for me to use, or even abuse if that was my mood."

She picked up that he changed the focus from some random captive to her specifically. This made her shudder a little as she now had reached inside her pants, rubbing just a little slower and a bit more deliberately.

He continued, "You are right about the neurological damage. Your limbs might go permanently numb and you may develop pains that never go away. But we wouldn't care because you would still be available to me and still quite fuckable. Same for emotional or mental damage, restrained, you wouldn't be a danger to yourself or others, and you would still be there for me to fuck.

"You are correct that I may tire of you but I don't see that happening. I can think of dozens of foods I like that I've eaten for years, and I still like and eat them. And even more than that, I will always need to fuck, and while it may not always be with you, I will never lose that need. I, like most men if they were honest, will fuck whatever is available, and having you always near me, so helpless, will mean I will always want to use you.

"As for you getting tired of me, what would I care? You may even grow to hate me, although I hope that won't be the case. When we do this, you will have given me all of you forever, so I will continue to use you...forever."

"If" has turned into "when", Allie noticed, and it began to scare her that she would seriously consider this. Was she going crazy or might this just be the man who would give her the heaven that she felt she needed?

"As for normal lives, what is normal?" he went on. "Is working away your life at an unsatisfying job barely paying rent and groceries, normal? Is random dating in search of impossible love and unlikely sexual satisfaction normal? I think being useful, appreciated, fed, stimulated, and forced to truly feel a range of physical sensations and emotions is a much better pursuit for someone like you. For you, that would be your best normal. As for me, it's normal for me want to fuck. It's normal for me to try to acquire objects that make me feel happy and fulfilled. My life will stay normal."

The conversation had her finally rubbing herself to a shuddering climax. She neglected the computer for a few minutes as her brain readjusted from the waves of euphoria. She then apologized to him, asked his name, which turned out to be Josh. Allie said she had to get some sleep before work in a few hours but told him she definitely wanted to get to know him better. They agreed to chat again the next evening.

After a week of chatting, where she was getting more and more excited with the forever captive thoughts. Josh was getting more and more frustrated as he realized that Allie had no social skills, no capability for erotic chat, and gave him no perceptible signs that he was gaining her trust.

Her pictures she sent him were very honest. She didn't hide her apparent slight acne problem. Her full body picture she sent was not sexy at all, but not really unattractive. In other words her appearance and demeanor were average, but her apparent acceptance of his kink was intoxicating.

After their sixth chat session, she finally agreed to call the number he gave her. On the call she briefly admitted that the pictures he sent of himself were appealing and that his texts did make her cum. But then, obviously embarrassed, she told him good night and hung up.

Josh worked in the cybercrime division of his county's sheriff's department. Now that he had her cell phone number, he used some of the resources at work to learn more about Allie. He learned her address and last name. He found out she was living paycheck to paycheck in a rundown neighborhood in Southern California. Her father died when she was eleven. She grew up in the foster care system and according to police records, there were officers dispatched to three of her seven homes with claims of possible sexual abuse of a minor. He knew her mother was in a mental institution and her older sister was living across the country, and apparently Allie was out of touch with both of them.

Further research showed that she had been working as a part time housekeeper in a chain hotel for just a few years, and had somehow amassed thousands of dollars of credit card debt. A check of her SMS messages showed a string of recent uncomfortable date-related conversations with various men, many professing their love for her, but somehow they never lead to second dates.

Josh thought about what he wanted. He had developed the urge to restrain people while he worked as a prison guard, his first job at the department. While there, he realized that he could've taken advantage of many of those that went through his intake station. He was propositioned by many arrestees who promised to go with him and do anything he wanted for just the smallest of favors. He never partook, but now five years later he wished he had done so. He heard that three of the guards, long since fired, had taken some of the prisoners home to use. They were careless and got caught. Now when he thought about all the relatively helpless and cuffed detainees he remembered of a couple of women he should have taken. They would not have been missed, and he'd have his own toys to play with.

Missed opportunity weight on Josh the next time he and Allie chatted, so he pressed her for a meeting. Allie was scared. Her brain told her no, but her psyche and her desire to see if he was for real, said yes. The two of them decided to get together the next morning at the relatively safe mall coffee shop.

She called in sick to work and put on her best top, a plaid long sleeve blouse, and what she thought was a practical but nice flower print skirt. She despised making such frivolous decisions, and the end result was a mismatched outfit that made her look silly and definitely not very sexy, especially when her only shoes were a pair of thrift store sneakers.

She walked into the coffee shop and recognized him immediately. She hesitated before approaching him. Her insides quivered and her legs went weak thinking about what he could do with her as she stumbled into the chair across the table from him.

"That is an interesting getup," he told her, firmly grasping her wrist. "I'm so glad you came. Sorry for being so direct, but could you truly offer yourself, or am I dreaming?"

His voice, his eyes, his firm hold on her arm, his commanding confidence had her giddy. She only thought about it for a second. She had already reasoned that her current life was miserable and she didn't have the tools to make it better. Every decision she had to make was torture. She longed for stability. She needed to be made to feel. She wanted to be fucked regularly. He promised it all.

She looked at him and nodded.

"No subtlety here," he said. "I need to hear the words."

Allie responded with, "Take me Master."

"No, no Master," he explained. "Like we discussed, this is not a game. We are not playing BDSM roles here. I'm Josh. You're Allie. You want to be kept, used, and abused. I want to restrain you, use you, and abuse you. Do you consent to this relationship?"

The reality set in. An involuntary tear tricked from the corner of her eye. "I wholeheartedly do," she said.

Josh stood up and still clutching her wrist dragged her up out of her chair and walked her out of the mall and up to a black SUV in the parking lot. He led her to the passenger side and helped her in. Giving her a kiss on the cheek as he did so.

He was surprised when he got in the driver's side and she was glaring at him.

"What?" he asked.

"Don't kiss me please," she huffed. "We aren't a couple. I told you this is not an affair. This is not a romance. I need you to understand that I want none of those things. For this to work, it needs to be transactional. More like a purchase than a courtship."

"Sorry, just a habit I guess," he replied, then started his car.

"Where do you live?" he asked, already knowing the answer. "You need to get your things. I can't go in with you because of the nature of this transaction, but bring down what's important to you and leave the rest."

She directed him to her rundown apartment building, where she went in and retrieved some clothes, a small photo album of memories, a box of some legal documents including her birth certificate, social security card, and her high school GED. She looked around the room and grabbed the bag with her belongings, then headed back down to the SUV.

He told her he needed to hear it from her again, and he wanted to record it. "Not because it would have any legal standing," he told her, "because it won't. This recording is for me, to keep me focused on what we are doing and to justify to myself what I end up doing with you."

She told him she understood. She looked at the lens on the back of his phone and waited for him to start recording, then began in a meek but audible voice, "I, Allison Richards, heartily submit myself to Josh (what's your last name? Oh, Berry? That's a great last name, Josh) submit myself to Josh Berry to hopefully keep me fully restrained and regularly sexually satisfied and I guess do whatever he needs with me to complete those tasks. And I guess I should include that I believe that I am sane and relatively healthy as I make this pledge. (Was that what you wanted?)"

"Perfect, Allie," he answered with a beaming grin. "We have a long drive to my place, but don't get comfy yet, we have a quick stop before we head out."

Josh pulled the SUV into an unattended parking structure of a business park that he had scoped out the day before. It was a weekend morning and except for a few cars on the first floor it was empty.

"This is perfect," he told her as he drove up to the fourth floor. "There are no cameras here. No one will see us."

She thought he would take her right here. She was eager to have him inside of her. So she was surprised when he took her to the back of the SUV which he opened to reveal a metal dog crate with the words Tucson Sheriff K9, Keep Clear. Those bars of the crate not coated in rust were jet black.

When he told her to get in she was more than a bit disappointed.

"I thought you said no role playing," Allie said. "I don't want to play at being a pet."

"It has nothing to do with playing a role," he responded. "You need restraint. I needed a transportable way to do that, so I picked this up from an auction. Now get in."

She felt silly for being upset, looked at her new digs and with a helping hand from Josh, folded herself into the kennel. It was just big enough for her to sit up in if she tilted her head a little. He placed a solid padlock on the latch and made sure it was secure.

"Now let's get that silly top off of you and pass it through the bars to me," Josh commanded.

She shivered, not at the brisk morning air, but at the thought that this was really happening. After the top he asked for the skirt and the beat up grayish white Adidas she was wearing. He shoved them her bag of belongings, then reached back in and pulled out the shoes.

"The ground is always hot at my house," he said. "You might need these until we can get you something more appropriate." He place the shoes in the SUV next to the kennel.

"Do you want my underwear, too?" she asked.

"You decide," he answered.

"Nope," she came back. "You told me I would never have to make my own decisions ever again. Would you rather me be nude in here or not?"

"Okay then," he decided. "Hand them over, and to be honest, this may be the last bit of clothing you will ever wear. Since I get to decide, you get to be naked for the rest of your useful life."

She slipped off her panties as he ogled her through the bars. Her legs opened just enough to show him her vagina, which was calling to him with its very visible bright pink clit peeking at him from under its hood. She then unsnapped the bra and let it fall to the floor of the cage. Her perfect handful-sized tits were dangling just enough to lure him in.

He could wait no more. He told her to face the back of the kennel and get on her knees. There was just enough room for her to turn around. The metal floor was painful to kneel on. He pulled her hands back and cuffed her wrists behind her. He then grabbed her feet and one at a time zip tied her ankles to opposite corners of the crate.

He could barely get his hard penis out of the bulging fly of his jeans, before he unlocked the cage door, climbed into the SUV and on his knees, shoved himself into her warm, and very wet cunt. He couldn't pump very long before he was shooting her full of the cum that had been building up since their very first chat.

She was so inept at socialization, at fashion, at flirting, at sexting, at life, but she was amazingly and satisfyingly fuckable. He pulled out and used a shop rag to wipe himself off before pulling his pants back on.

He padlocked the kennel again and tugged it around so that her face, resting on the bars of the kennel, was looking at him. She had an enigmatic expression on her face that hinted of a smile but also that she was in a bit of pain.

He asked her if she was okay and she nodded but told him her knees on the floor of the kennel were hurting.

"Noted," he said. He reached through the bars and caressed her left tit, mulling the nipple between his fingers. He looked her in the eyes and could see a contentment that he'd only seen before in his cat as he stroked its fur. He could almost hear Allie purring.

"Are you still good for giving up your old life?" he asked. "Living like this forever?"

"This is truly where I have always belonged, Josh" she said, shifting back and lifting her head.

Josh then grabbed the bag with her belongings. He took out her purse and extracted her wallet and keys. He pulled a small red Weber barbecue grill out of the SUV and set it on ground where she could see.

"Two keys," he said. "I assume one is for the apartment, and what is the other one for?"

She told him it was a key for her job. He threw the keys and the Pokémon keychain they were attached to over the side of the parking garage and into some bushes below.

He took all the cash out of her wallet, about 40 dollars, and pocketed it. He pulled out three store credit cards, and a bank credit and debit card. "We'll make sure to close these accounts when we get home," he told her. "We don't want someone looking for you later on."

He shoved the plastic into shirt pocket. Then he took out her driver's license and tossed it into the Weber. Opening up her bag, he took her birth control container and put it in his pocket.

He pulled out the photo album and flipped through.

"Is this you at maybe 9 years old?" he asked. When she nodded he took the photo out of the sleeve and slipped it into his back pocket. The half dozen other pictures must have been of her mother and sister.

"Were you planning on seeing them again?" he asked, holding them up to the kennel.

"Of course not," Allie answered. "Go ahead and burn them, too, I guess."

He tossed the photo album and dumped the remaining contents of the bag, which included some papers and about a week's worth of clothing, into the mini barbecue. He pulled out a fire extinguisher. A generous amount of lighter fluid ignited by a butane torch resulted in a fast fire turning everything to ember and ash in seconds. Before the smoke got out of hand, he extinguished the fire. He pulled a bucket of sand he packed just for this out of the SUV and poured into the barbecue, then after sifting through ashes to ensure no identifying clues remained, dumped the Weber and its ashes into a nearby can.

She thought about what was happening. She was being erased. It was daunting to think that her life up to this point was nothing more than memories, and mostly bad ones. She was looking forward to her new place in his world.

Brushing soot off his hands, he went back to the kennel and tugged it back around so that the door once again faced the rear of the vehicle. He rubbed his hand across her ass making sure his fingers firmly pressed on her anus as they drifted across, enjoying the surprised yelp it elicited. He pulled her back, unlocked her cuffs, and then snipped the zip ties from her ankles. Having her turn around so that her butt was sitting on the floor, he cuffed her hands in front of her and re-padlocked the cage.