Endra Captured

Kendra Captured

As we sometimes do once we've done the dishes and any other chores for the evening, Kendra and I were browsing porn, her phone mirrored to the television so we could both watch from the comfort of our couch with a bowl of popcorn between us. The total cheesiness of most of the free porn clips we were browsing is a major part of their entertainment value.

We had wandered into some rape porn. The scenario had lots of variants, but the standard setup seems to be, guy in a ski mask, or maybe a stupid-looking Hallowe'en mask, breaks into a home, overpowers a woman, rips off her clothes, or maybe not -- "not" seemed kind of stupid to us, but evidently lots of people get off on clothed bondage -- and binds and gags her. Then her fucks her, or maybe not. That also seemed stupid. What would be the point of capturing a woman and tying her up if you weren't going to fuck her sooner or later? But we had tracked down some longer segments that included stripping and fucking along with the binding and gagging, and were having a good time watching them, my hand down the front of Kendra's pants and hers down mine.

After a few segments of that kind, Kendra seemed to stop paying attention. She was looking into the middle distance with a thoughtful expression. I know that expression: she's thinking about something that we might both enjoy at some point, but the picture hasn't fully formed yet. I've learned to give her a few minutes before probing. Finally I asked, "OK babe, what's going on in your head?"

"I was just thinking, Kev. Sometimes I get really turned on by those rape-scene videos, at least the ones that aren't too ridiculous. I don't want to get raped for real -- I can't think of anything more terrifying or psychologically scarring than really being raped against my will. But all the scenes we do together are so one hundred percent consensual. Don't mistake me. I absolutely love them, and I'm totally impressed with how careful you are to respect my personal boundaries when you tie me up and fuck me. I know I can trust you, always. But it seems like it might be fun to play at a kidnap and rape scene."

I digested for a moment. To make sure I was reading this right, I said, "You'd like me to work out a rape scene with you?"

She thought a moment. "Actually, yes. I don't want to know when it's coming or what you intend to do. But I know that you know exactly what I like and what I don't, and will respect that even when you're totally controlling me by physical force. Admit it, haven't you ever fantasised about raping a woman against her will?"

"I have to admit -- yes, I have. And I read erotic stories about that from time to time. Why do you think I led us into those phony rape videos? But I never talked about it because, frankly, I'm a little ashamed of it. Real non-consensual sex just seems so wrong, even when fantasy non-consensual sex is kind of a turn-on. Is that weird or what?"

Kenda held my face in her hands and came in close. Quietly, she said, "No, Kev, it's not weird at all. I've been having exactly the same feelings from my side of the relationship."

"So, let me make sure I have this straight. If I surprised you one day by overpowering you, kidnapping you, and raping you, without agreeing beforehand what we were going to do, you'd find that a turn-on?"

"Yes. I've thought about it a lot, and that's what I've decided. I still trust you not to hurt me, and I still have my safe-word, and my safe-grunt if I can't speak at the moment. I've never deployed either, but I trust you to respect them if I really, really need to call a halt. Although I seriously doubt that I would ever need to."

"OK, babe, you've got it." I got up to put another bag of popcorn in the microwave while Kendra selected a real movie for the rest of the evening, now that we'd had our early-evening dose of silly porn.

**

As you certainly expect, a few days later I was at T'Jalla's sex shop. T'Jalla recognized me despite my COVID mask, or maybe because of it -- I was wearing the bondage-themed mask I usually wear to visit T'Jalla's.

"This is unusual. You and Kendra always come to pick out toys together. Planning a surprise?"

"Exactly. Kendra wants a rape scene where she doesn't know what's coming. To me, that means new equipment that she hasn't seen before. Among other things."

I couldn't see her mouth behind her mask, but from the way her eyes crinkled, I knew she was smiling. "Can I help you find anything in particular?"

"If I knew what I wanted, it wouldn't be a surprise, now would it? I'll just wander the aisles and see what suggests itself. If I need to consult, I'll find you."

"Works for me. I won't be hard to find if you have any questions."

I started with the gag aisle. We already have several gags, including the classic leather panel gag with built-in stuffer, and her current favourite, the rubber wedge, the narrow part fitting in her mouth to hold her tongue down and the widest part between her teeth where she can bite down on it. But it was time for something a little different.

I examined a mannequin head wearing a black neoprene panel gag that had a row of more or less meaningless but strict-looking buckles down each side. It looked pretty fearsome. I unbuckled it from behind the mannequin's head and pulled it out of her mouth. (Where do sex shops get mannequins with their mouths wide open, I wondered. Not the sort of thing you see modelling underwear in the window of Victoria's Secret. Must be a special order supplier that caters to sex shops.) It was a bit different from Kendra's usual panel stuffer gag, having a big round ball behind the panel rather than a soft flat stuffer. I buckled it back on the mannequin and noted how the neoprene stretched across her face, outlining her lips with the ball behind them. I also noted some holes that were obviously designed to receive a lock, if that's the way you wanted to go. Into the cart it went.

I picked up a few more items that were not our usual style. I picked out a black neoprene collar with a D-ring on it for a leash or a chain, and a three metre long piece of light chain. I looked briefly through the whip and flogger aisle, but didn't pick up anything there. Pain, even mild toy pain, was still not Kendra's style, and I had no wish to change that.

But I did spend some time in the cuffs aisle. I picked up a demo of some really interesting cuffs. I could tell that they were either metal or some similar kind of hard material underneath, but the surface was soft rubber. You could open them wide and they would stay open, but as soon as you released a catch, they would snap shut and stay shut until you opened them again with a key. Both cuffs of the pair were pre-adjustable so you could set them for the diameter of the victim's wrists, ankles, thighs, or whatever other body parts, and they would snap shut with exactly the right degree of tightness.

What a perfect way to restrain a struggling victim who wouldn't hold still to be properly tied up, I thought. No fumbling with knots, buckles or anything else. I put three sets in the cart, noting with satisfaction that the keys were all interchangeable.

I wheeled my cart down the aisle that featured various sorts of slave hoods. I checked out a number of variations in leather and latex, but they all looked too hot and too confining for my taste. Maybe that would be fine if I were using them on a slave, but that wasn't the idea. This was for me.

Then I found one in black fabric. It had eyeholes but no other holes -- evidently you breathed through the fabric, Spider-Man style. I imagined that usually a gag would go under the fabric, but since this was for the rapist, not the rapee, I just wanted something that didn't look quite as dumb as a ski mask.

There were some demos that you could try on to find the right fit. I pulled on one that fit perfectly, and, trying not to imagine swinging through the city on my web, put a fresh one that was the same size in the cart. The demo went in a basket marked "Put used demos here." I imagined that it would be really well sanitized after having been breathed through by a customer. At least, I sure hoped so.

I picked out a blindfold. We've never used a blindfold before -- I like watching Kendra's eyes when we're doing whatever we're doing, and she likes to see mine. Having her blindfolded has always seemed to me like I would be fucking -- well, nobody in particular. Not our style. But if this was going to be a non-consensual rape scene, the blindfold might come into play at some point. I hadn't plotted the whole scene out in my mind yet, but I wanted to have plenty of options.

Finally, I went down the butt plug aisle. I had been saving this for last. There it sat on its pedestal, still with the sign that had attracted us both the first time we saw it: "New! Locking butt plug. Impossible to remove without the key." We had both been fascinated, but filed it under "Maybe another day" because at the time we were looking for sounding rods. But now was another day.

Finally, I bought a set of six little brass padlocks, all keyed to the same set of six keys. We had never used locks before, since most of the bondage I put Kendra in precluded the use of her hands to remove anything anyway. They just seemed like something else to lose keys to if you didn't need to use them. But for this scene, I had some ideas, and I liked the idea of six identical keys that I could put in various places so I'd always have at least one available any time.

I looked at my cart. As I wheeled it to the checkout, I was grateful that my credit card had a high credit limit. This had better be fun, I thought, although I was pretty sure it would be.

**

Since the element of surprise was a key part of the scene, I waited a couple of weeks to make my move. On a Friday, Kendra came home from work and went to the bedroom to change out of her professional outfit into what she called her "slop clothes" that she often wore around the house -- a loose tee shirt with no bra and a pair of bikini-style panties.

I put on my black Spider-Man mask and put a subset of my new toys into a small bag. I walked quietly up the stairs and peeked around the bedroom door. Kendra had her back to me as she hung up her work clothes for Monday morning, and I was able to come right up behind her before she heard me.

I grabbed her suddenly and shoved her upper body down on the bed before she could move. She opened her mouth to scream, and I yelled, "Shut up, cunt," shoved the ball of the new gag into her mouth, pulled the strap behind her head, and buckled it tight. The neoprene moulded to her face, making a complete seal over her stuffed mouth. She screamed behind it, but it all ineffectually came out her nose. Regardless, she kept screaming her lungs out, making a surprising amount of noise for someone who was so firmly gagged. In the videos, gagged women usually can't get anything out beyond a little whimper. Still, she certainly couldn't say anything remotely articulate.

I grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head and off in one quick motion, letting her breasts tumble out. I could deal with her panties later. Right now I needed to deal with her flailing arms before she managed to connect with any soft parts of my body. I clamped one side of a set of spring cuffs to her right arm just above the elbow. It fit perfectly, snug but not painfully tight -- I had guessed her arm size just right. I wrestled her left wrist over to the other part of the set and snapped it in place. With one arm and half of the other restrained, it was easy to do the same job on her right wrist and left elbow. She fought valiantly against the restraints, but they didn't slip a millimetre.

I admired the precision of my new bondage equipment for a moment. With two simple points of attachment, she was completely helpless, her arms folded across her back and totally out of the way of anything I might want to do. Then I dealt with her flailing legs, snapping the third set of cuffs around her ankles.

I stood back to admire my handiwork and get my breath back. She had gotten instantly into her role and made me work really hard for my prize. She is definitely not a weak woman, and the effects of her regular gym workouts certainly showed.

After I had admired her thrashing about on the bed for a minute, I picked her up and slung her over my shoulder, still struggling and screaming through her nose. I made my way downstairs, and she wisely quit struggling while we were on our way down. I entered the attached garage where the trunk of my car was already open and waiting. I dumped her in and slammed the lid.

My car is electric, so I didn't have to worry about exhaust fumes getting in, and I had checked to make sure that there were enough air leaks to prevent suffocation. Still, whenever I found a reasonably private place to pull over, I popped the trunk to check on her and let in some extra fresh air.

I didn't want to put my mask on in a public area when I checked on her. Nothing attracts unwanted attention like looking as if you're on your way to rob a bank -- although if a police officer ever stopped and wanted to know why I had a half-naked woman tied up in my trunk, I'm sure I could just take her gag off and let her explain. However, so I could maintain the fiction that she didn't know who I was, I just popped the lid a centimetre or so and listened. If I got a muffled scream or some thrashing, I figured she was fine. One time I didn't hear anything, so I banged on the trunk lid and yelled, "Hey, cunt. Wake up in there." I was rewarded by some gag-talk that was totally unintelligible but didn't sound flattering.

The role I was playing was beginning to grow on me. Although I've certainly used the word as an anatomical term, I'd never called a woman a "cunt" before in my life. I felt indescribably naughty doing it now.

We drove for about forty-five minutes to a cottage I had rented for the weekend from AirBnB. It wasn't far out of town, but it was private enough to qualify for the "secluded cabin in the woods" stereotype that graces many kidnap stories. When we got there, I ran a cord to the outside outlet on the house to top up the car's charge. At 110 volts, I knew it would take forever to charge it, but I wasn't planning on going anywhere for a while.

I opened the front door, then came back to the car and popped the trunk again. There was Kendra, still half-naked and firmly trussed up, and still thrashing uselessly in her restraints. Next to her was a shoulder bag that held the rest of the new toys I had shopped for two weeks earlier, which I slung over my shoulder. I didn't feel like carrying Kendra over my shoulder again, so I took the key and unlocked her ankle cuffs. I hauled her out of the trunk and set her on her feet, grabbed a big handful of long black braids and used them to propel her ahead of me up the stairs and into the cottage.

We headed for the bedroom. I yanked off her panties and took a good feel of her smoothly shaved pussy, then said, "I could put the ankle cuffs back on, but I've got a better way of making sure you don't go anywhere." I pushed her upper body face down on the bed and forced her knees to the floor. I pulled the locking plug out of the bag and showed it to her. "This going to keep you here with me for as long as I want it to."

I lubed the plug and her asshole with silicon-based anal lube and began slowly forcing it in. It was quite large even folded up, and it took a bit of doing to get it in, but eventually I got the widest part past her sphincter and her asshole slurped the rest of it in until the guard was resting against her asscrack. I pulled the plunger out until the retainer pin clicked, signifying that it was at its widest point. I heard Kendra gasp as she felt its three petals fan out inside her rectum, firmly locking it inside her. I didn't really need to lock it any more securely, given that there was no way she could release it with her hands restrained, but as a theatrical gesture I snapped one of the little brass padlocks through the locking holes so there could be no doubt that it wasn't coming out any time soon.

I used a second padlock to secure one end of the chain to the plug, and then a third to secure a loop of chain around the bedframe. Then I released her and stepped back.

She looked at the chain securing her asshole to the bed. She walked across the room until the chain was taut, then bent over and began putting more and more of her weight against it. She finally made a grunt of pain and stopped pulling. That plug was not going to come out with any reasonable amount of brute force.

She looked at me over the wide panel of the gag with a sort of "What the fuck now?" expression on her face. I reached into the bag and pulled out a small security camera, plugged it in, and set it on the dresser, well out of reach of my chained captive. I checked my phone to make sure that I got a good view of my naked prisoner, then said, "I'm going to leave you to your own devices for a while. I need a shower. See you later." I walked out and shut the door.

**

I didn't actually take a shower. I was too interested in what Kendra would do when left alone in her restraints. She tried a few more times to see if she could work the plug out of her anus, then gave up -- it looked as though she was just hurting herself trying to get it out by force. She inspected the chain where it was looped around the bedframe, and quickly discovered that there was no way to slip it off under the frame. Then she sat on the floor -- carefully, since the plunger was still sticking out of her anus like a tiny penis -- and started rubbing the buckle of the gag against the bedframe. Clever, I thought. She went for the one restraint that wasn't actually locked in place.

She was obviously trying to work the strap back through the buckle. Occasionally she got a tiny loop to form, but the strap was too stiff to go very far, and the loop always disappeared when she moved her head to get a fresh push on it. She did this for at least half an hour -- I guess it passed the time, and the fact that she occasionally seemed to be getting somewhere kept her at it. But eventually it became obvious that the gag was staying put until I decided differently.

From the way she was sitting, I got a partial view of her pussy. Her pussy lips looked engorged and her nipples stood out from her areolas, as if she was getting really turned on by this performance in ways that no real rape victim ever would. It must have been infuriating not to be able to reach down and take care of her body's needs.

But Kendra is nothing if not creative. There was a swivel office-style chair in front of the desk at one side of the room, and by lying flat and stretching, she managed to hook her toes around it and pull it over to where she was chained. I thought maybe she was looking for some place to sit that was more comfortable than the floor, but not so much. She kept one foot on the floor and put the other knee on the seat, steadying the chair with her legs straddling one of the arms. Then she started rubbing her pussy back and forth along the arm.

It looked like a pretty awkward way to masturbate, but she seemed to be able to get at least some friction against her clit. It took her a while to work herself to climax, but she was persistent, and her breathing slowly got deeper and heavier as her arousal grew. Finally she erupted in an orgasmic scream, muffled by the gag.

I let her stew for an hour or so, then decided it was time to move things along. I pulled a small battery-powered vibrator out of the bag, the kind with a larger piece that goes in the vagina and a smaller piece that stimulates the clitoris directly. I walked in the bedroom door and found her lying on the bed, having given up on trying to escape. She visibly brightened when she saw the vibrator, letting her damsel-in-distress persona slip for a moment. I grabbed her ankles and pulled them apart, saying, "Keep 'em spread, bitch." I pushed the vibrator into her vagina -- it was already so slick with her own juices that it didn't need any lube -- and pressed the extension against her clit, which was still engorged despite her chair-assisted orgasm a while earlier. This kidnap business seemed to be having its desired effect on her state of mind.