I Want to Do That

The condo was owned by his brother. Although, technically, it was now his brother and her sister, since the two had gotten married. The bride and groom were on their honeymoon, temporarily leaving the condo in the care of their respective younger siblings, who had both been living with them.

The bride and groom had been engaged for several years, while living in the condo, and they both gave their younger siblings that place to stay while they finished high school, and simply continued after, because it was beneficial to all parties involved. In this specific instance, the bride and groom got free house sitters out the the deal.

The youngers were quite happy to serve in this capacity, for numerous reasons, but both did have a secret desire to be alone with the other. They did find each other attractive, but they both were hesitant to try to pursue anything, because they thought it might make things extremely awkward for their older siblings.

The two had kept their desires from each other, but still acted in ways that, to anyone paying very close attention, betrayed those desires. Fortunately for them, no one was paying attention that closely, but they both suspected each other's feelings.

To any outside observer, they were just good friends. Behind closed doors, they were masturbating to thoughts of each other.

Neither were particularly extraordinary people. Pretty average, in various respects. Moderate might be a better word.

He was of moderate build. He had moderate interests.

She had moderately sized breasts and ass, and was only moderately tomboyish. She had a moderately above average interest in trying new things: usually physically challenging things, but she was not a thrill seeker. She just would wonder what something was like, and then want to try it. Usually, once was enough.

It was the night after their older siblings had left, and both felt excited and anxious, but tried not to let the other see it. It was one of those stereotypical situations where, if either of them had the nerve to declare their feelings, then they could both proceed to get what they want.

They were both sitting on the sofa, watching a indie movie that featured a female character, held captive in a basement, and the two male captors were raping and abusing her.

He was uncomfortable watching this with her, because he wasn't sure how she felt about it, but she was staring intently at everything that played out in front of her.

The last thing he expected to hear from her was, "I want to try that."

"What," he asked, partly shocked, but also a little uncertain that he had heard her correctly.

She suddenly looked to him, a little shocked that she had said it out loud. Her thoughts flew a mile a minute, realizing that she must have, on some level, wanted him to know. Her heart pounded at the choice before her: Play it off as some kind of error, or pull the trigger.

"I want to try that," she repeated, staring him directly in the eye.

He was completely at a loss for words. That any aspect of what they just watched was somehow desirable to her was unbelievable enough, but he wasn't sure what specifically she meant. Did she want to kidnap someone? Did she want to be the captive?

"What," was all that he could manage to say.

She paused the movie and looked back at him, deciding to stop thinking about it, and just go with it. Let the chips fall where they may.

"I want to know what it's like to be captive and used like that."

His mind was a whirlwind of images and possible explanations.

"I don't understand. Why...? How...?"

She considered giving him a detailed explanation of why, but decided that would take too long. The how would take more thought on her part, so she decided to go with a short, sweet, direct version.

"I want you to chain me in my room and...", she didn't know how to finish that sentence appropriately, so she lunged toward him, holding his face between her hands, and landed a kiss on his lips for about ten seconds.

That's about how long it took for his brain to catch up. She was backing off just as his hands were rising to her, and her sudden departure stopped him. He opened his eyes to hers.

"I know we both...." Something would not let her finish the sentence. If she openly acknowledged their mutual feeling, then it would hinder the realism. It would turn this into little more than a fun game.

"Listen," she said. "I want YOU to hold me captive in my room, and I want YOU to... do things. I want you to be my captor. I want you to do what you would do if you had a captive to... use."

"But I wouldn't ever want that."

"Come on," she said softly but flatly, trying not to sound too excited or frustrated. She was going to have to ruffle the edges of the illusion a little bit, after all. She whispered as a compromise. "I'm not asking you to hurt me. I know you won't. But I know you must have had some kind of slave fantasy before. I'm giving you the chance."

She was right. He has had his share of slave fantasies, but none of her. None of any actual person, because he would never treat anyone like that, but she would technically be a willing participant, and he would stop whenever she wanted him to, so....

"O... Okay," he replied. 'What am I doing,' he questioned himself. "How do you want to do this?"

She lowered her gaze in a moment of thought, then looked back up.

"Go get your bike lock and meet me in my room." She stood up and left him on the sofa.

He had still not fully come to his senses, which left him on a sort of autopilot of simply doing whatever she instructed. It was all too bizarre, but he didn't want to just refuse her.

He eventually got up and went to his own room to retrieve the plastic-coated locking cable from his bicycle, then met her in her room.

She had stripped the covers from her bed and shoved it as far as she could toward the wall nearest the hallway, and moved several other things away from a large, antique wardrobe in the corner. When he had entered, she took the cable from him and proceeded to loop it around the nearest leg of the wardrobe, and then lock it.

"You have the key?"

"Yeah," he answered, showing it to her.

"Okay. Keep it someplace safe." She stepped to a dresser and picked up a pair of handcuffs and their keys, and then handed both to him.

The handcuffs where from another time when she wanted to try something. She wanted to know what being cuffed was really like, and she wanted to see if she could pick them (she couldn't), so she bought herself a pair.

He understood her giving him the keys, but "Why are you giving me these," he asked, raising the cuffs up slightly.

"I want you to cuff me. You're the captor, here. Cuff me to the bike cable."

"Are you sure about this," he hesitated.

"Yeah. Do it," she insisted, holding her wrists out to him.

"If you change your mind, I'm unlocking you. I hope you realize that." He put one cuff on her and then led her to the foot of the wardrobe to feed the other cuff through the large loop and then around her other wrist.

She sat herself on the floor, disappointed to hear him say that, but she knew that suggesting otherwise was too much to ask of him.

"Fine."

"I'm serious. None of this safe word shit. You ask even once and you're out."

"I get it."

He stood up and away from her. "Okay. What now," he asked, awaiting her next instruction.

"Now, I'm you're prisoner. I'm completely at your mercy." She stared him in the eyes. "You do whatever you want."

"I think I want to go to bed." It then occurred to him that she was going to be left on the floor all night. At least it was carpeted, but "Do you... want a pillow or something?"

"That's for you to decide. But not tonight. I want you to take this seriously. Be the captor. When you wake up tomorrow, you're the bad guy. Got it?"

"The bad guy...." 'Great,' he thought, sarcastically. He turned and headed toward the door.

"Turn the light off," she added.

He paused in exasperation, then flipped the switch before exiting to turn off the paused movie and secure the condo for the night. After turning off all the lights, he retired to his room, put the sets of keys in a safe place, and removed his shirt and shorts to get into bed.

Countless thoughts kept him awake. First were the practicalities of the situation. He was going to have bring food to her. Which then led to realizing that she would need to use the bathroom. He doubted she would let him get away with uncuffing her to let her use the toilet, which meant he would have to give her a bucket... and then take care of disposal.

'Ugh.'

Later, it finally registered with him that she had kissed him on the lips. Things were still a little slow to settle in, but then it hit him that this was supposed to be a sexual thing. She wanted him to do sexual things to her.

All the times he'd imagined her body, and now she was allowing him to see it.

All the times he'd imagined touching her, and now she was allowing him to do it.

All the times he'd imagined her sucking his.... He stopped himself. He still wasn't quite ready to think about going that far.

He'd certainly never imagined a captive/captor scenario with her, and that wasn't really how he wanted his first times with her to be, but maybe there was some consolation in the fact that he wasn't really supposed to be himself with this.

He was supposed to be someone who would, and did, kidnap her and bind her against her will. She was supposed to be someone who didn't want any of this. Neither of them were meant to be themselves... exactly.

He caught himself beginning to imagine some of the things that he would do to her, but he stopped himself.

'If I'm going to be in a character for this, then I'll wait until morning, and just let things happen as they will in character.'

He eventually fell asleep for about four hours, before he awakened to sunlight in his room.

'It's time to be the bad guy,' he thought, reassuring himself of his objective. 'I need to not be nice. I need to not be considerate. I need to be my creepiest, most perverted self.'

-

She didn't get more than a few minutes of sleep at a time. Or at least that's how it felt. She was wearing a t-shirt and shorts, but those were not enough to keep her from feeling slightly too cold all night. It's hard to sleep well when you're constantly right on the edge of beginning to shiver. Fortunately, she never crossed over that edge.

Of course, none of that was at all helped by a lack of pillow. At least the floor had a decently thick carpet.

'I will definitely need to persuade him to give me at least a blanket.'

She was laying on her left side, vaguely curled around the leg of the wardrobe, when the light suddenly came on. She scooted herself into a sitting position and leaned against the larger piece of furniture.

He stood in the doorway, head slightly down, staring at her with a nearly blank expression and the bucket that was typically used to wash the cars. He walked in, set the bucket down near her, and then walked out without a word.

'He seems to have gotten into character pretty well. Glad he brought a bucket, because I have to pee like crazy.'

She carefully slid the bucket closer, to a better location, and with some thought and agility, she managed to clumsily get her shorts and underwear down to her ankles, feeling self-conscious with her bedroom door open.

She had roughly one foot of slack, which was enough to let her hover and relieve herself, but only after finishing did she realize that she had no way to wipe herself dry.

'I guess I'll be wearing technically soiled underwear for a while.'

She ran her pussy across the rim of the bucket to try to eliminate as much urine as possible, then worked her clothes back up.

The scent of her urine became noticeable, so she carefully pushed the bucket away.

'Wait. Not too far. Might be using that again before he takes it. ... Oh, man. What's going to happen when I need to shit? Surely he'll give me some toilet paper."

She thought about all the things she'd like to have available to her, and she considered requesting them in some way or another, but she wasn't sure how authentic that would be.

If this were a real scenario, would she ask for anything? Would she demand? Would she be too scared, or would she be angry? Also, she didn't want to treat him too harshly, because he might fold. She had to choose her actions and words carefully.

If this was a real scenario, she would be looking for ways to escape. Even though she had no intention of taking advantage of any, she decided to try to find some, if only to test her own choices of how she set herself as captured.

The wardrobe was large, heavy with contents, and locked. Perhaps she could manage to tip it. It was snug in a corner, so there were only two directions it could go, but only forward was even remotely reasonable.

For the heck of it, she attempted to lift her corner, but it didn't budge at all. She went around to the side and tried to shoulder it forward. What effort she did put into it did nothing, but she got the impression that if she actually was trying to do it, she might succeed with great effort.

Of course, that would send it crashing onto her vanity, destroying many of her things, and probably still not actually raising that front leg off of the floor.

She stretched her legs out trying to reach various things with her toes, but nothing useful was in reach. She had done a good job.

'Yay me, I guess.'

Her lack of sleep and general boredom made her feel hungrier than she would normally feel by now. She wondered if he would bring her breakfast, and what it would be. On the other hand, the less she ate, the less she'd shit, but she was thirsty.

She decided to give him some time. He wasn't a dummy, and he probably wouldn't want her to suffer unreasonably.

He eventually came in with a bottle of water. He unscrewed the cap and walked over to her. She expected him to hand it to her, but, instead, he held it about eye level to her and baited her.

'Does he want me to drink from it while he holds it?'

She got onto her knees and moved as close as she could. He held the bottle above her face and tipped it slightly, suggesting that he was going to pour it. She turned her face up and opened her mouth.

He carefully poured a little in, and let her swallow it. Then offered her another, which she accepted, repeating the procedure.

The drink was refreshing to her throat, and she was surprised that she kind of enjoyed him doing that.

He looked at her pee bucket a moment, and then let her drink as much as she wanted. When she had her fill, she sat back down.

He capped the bottle and then took the bucket out.

'Interesting. It looked like he wasn't going to let me have more, but the bucket made him reconsider, and then he did let me have more. Like he wants me to pee again. I wonder what he has planned.'

She could hear the distant sound of him pouring the urine into the toilet, flushing it, and then rinsing it out. A moment later, he returned and set the bucket just inside the door. Definitely too far away for her to reach.

"Let me know when you need to use it again," he said, flatly. "You want food?"

She nodded, meekly. That is to say, she pretended to be meek.

He left, and returned fifteen minutes later with a small plate containing one fried egg: sunny side up, and set it down on the carpet, near the leg of the wardrobe. He then pulled out her vanity bench and sat.

'Hmm. No utensils, so I guess I'm meant to eat it with my hands, or something.'

Sunny side up eggs were his specialty. She could never get them right, but his were somehow perfect every time. He considered it a pleasure to cook them for people, but rarely had any occasion to do so.

He knew she usually ate cereal, so it actually meant something that he chose to cook the egg for her.

She started by tearing off the cooked white from around the yolk. It wasn't too hot, so he seemingly also let it cool a bit before bringing it to her.

She glanced over at him periodically, as she ate. He was really working the expressionlessness. On the one hand, she appreciated it as part of the character. On the other hand, it was slightly intimidating. But part of her appreciated that she was feeling that.

When only the yolk remained, she was not sure how she wanted to eat it. She started an attempt to bend down far enough to let it slide into her mouth from the plate, but that was not working out comfortably. There was only really one option left.

She held the plate as close as she could, but brought her face down to suck the yolk up like a vacuum cleaner. This broke the yolk, but she got most of it. The rest she licked up until the plate was clean.

On the last lick, she remembered that he was watching. She suddenly felt a little self-conscious about her display. She felt a tinge of embarrassment, but also tantalized. She averted her eyes genuinely that time, as she set the plate on the carpet and pushed it away, indicating that she was done with it.

She kept him in her peripheral so could see him walk over and pick it up. He remained there, curiously, so she looked up to him. He then gave the plate a long, slow swipe with his tongue while staring at her.

'Oh my god. I can't believe he just did that. That's so gr-'

A tingling warmth interrupted her thought. She quickly averted her eyes, again.

He left the room and she pressed herself close against the side of the wardrobe.

'I.... I got turned on by that.'

The idea baffled her. She had never had a submission or humiliation kink, but she was legitimately starting to get turned on by the creepy stuff he was doing.

She replayed past fantasies in her head, singling out which ones that could qualify as her taking a dominated roll, and then she realized that those few always involved him.

'Oh god. That's why I wanted to do this.'

Her heart began beating faster as it became increasingly clear to her.

'I even straight up told him I wanted him to have his way with me. How was I blind to this as I was saying it?'

The room suddenly felt smaller as she became hyper-aware that she was bound and helpless in her room.

'Calm down. He'll let you out if you tell him to. Okay. You're alright. You just have to tell him the next time he comes in.'

Since she couldn't really do much of anything but think, her thoughts all too easily went to curiosity regarding what things he would be willing to do to her. What things he secretly wanted to do to her.

She knew he was attracted to her, to some extent, and it was a fair bet that he masturbated to thoughts of her, but what did he imagine?

She remembered one fantasy of hers where he snuck into her room, while she slept nude, slipped under her covers from the foot of her bed, and gave her oral.

In another fantasy, she was the stuck "step sister", and he toyed with her for hours, teasing her to the dripping edge of orgasm, but never letting her until finally fucking her ferociously.

She began feeling that familiar tingling warmth.

She's had "normal" fantasies about him, too. Situations of mutual affection. And even a few where she was more in charge, like with him having a nap on the sofa, and her giving him a sneaky blowjob.

She began thoughtlessly, slowly rubbing her thighs together in a feeble attempt to massage her clit. When she noticed her actions, she shook her head to clear the thoughts away.

'Stop thinking about it. That's not going to go anywhere good. You can't even....'

She looked at her tether and then her crotch to speculate.

'Okay, technically you can reach to.... Just stop thinking about it.'

After a few hours, she once again felt the urge to pee.

'Oh, no. Should I call him in so I can go now, or should I wait until it's more urgent, so it won't be so soon for the next time? And I'm hungry.'