I was thinking of all the things I have to do when the car careened out of control and nearly hit the concrete abutment on the side of the road. As I recovered from the skid I knew the cause was so much stress at work and chores at home that I couldn't keep my mind on what I was doing.
When I arrived at home I asked my husband Kevin to take make me one of his good martinis and take me out to dinner. I didn't change my clothes so I was still wearing a dress and heels as I sat down in a dimly lit, secluded, booth.
You cannot just walk away from a career. Work was too demanding and even if I were to schedule a vacation I was booked for another 2 months before I could get a week off. I felt I had trapped myself
I spilled my troubles out with tears at times. Kevin listened attentively and occasionally offered suggestions, maid service to help with the house work and the like. He told me to take a vacation maybe half with him and half by myself. He told me I needed a distraction from my career and something new to think about. I appreciated Kevin. He was always sensitive and often had good solutions.
This time I had let things build up too much and we hadn't had sex for I don't remember when. I began weeping softly feeling guilty for not being the wife I wanted and promised to be. I don't even remember when I had gotten home before 9 PM and I worked weekends at our home office. The chasm between my career and my personal life was so wide I couldn't see how to get them back together.
Kevin ordered me another dry gin martini. He took me home and he made love to me for dessert. It was very touching and took the edge off enough so I orgasmed instead of crying.
As I rushed off to work the next morning I didn't notice my stockings had a run in them and my skirt was too short for our dress code. I hadn't worn this skirt and blouse for 2 years. Wearing the wrong clothing was a symptom of my stress level, nothing more.
As soon as I got to work I took time to set up a vacation for as soon as possible. Days end found me with my short skirt and mismatching blouse on and no hose due to the run. I ran out to the car and started home.
While waiting for the red light at Main Street and Washington Avenue my door popped open and I was dragged out. I started to struggle already finding myself on the floor of a van. I tried to sit up and bite the hands holding me down. The next thing I knew I was blindfolded and in handcuffs which was about five seconds.
I began to think, Why me? We don't have money. I'm not pretty. My husband is not important.
It was what seemed like ½ hour when the van stopped and I was roughly pulled from the vehicle and with someone bunching up my hair pushed me in front of them.
I started to get my wits and tried to take note of anything that would give me clues to tell the police for later. I felt my legs collapse as it came to me that I may be killed. I couldn't get my breath and I remember my mind began to swirl and I started to shake then a prick in the right elbow vein in my arm made my vision somehow narrow.
Next I was shivering when I came to. My hands were tied together and I was hanging from the ceiling and the toes of my high heels were all that were on the floor. My wrists hurt and I was still blinded. It was drafty making my skirt flutter a little.
As my mind began to clear again I tried to take note of noises and sense clues as to where I was. I jumped when someone near me spoke realizing that nothing had been said up until now. I hadn't spoken either. The voice was male but sounded muffled without inflection of emotion.
I was informed that he had nothing to do this weekend and decided to get a pretty girl and teach her bondage and discipline. I had never known that much fear before and my teeth chattered as I felt my blouse being opened without unbuttoning. My bra was next followed by my skirt leaving only my panties and shoes. I heard what I thought was a whip crack and felt a sting on my ass making me cry out. Fully awake now it occurred to me that I might be heard and subsequently rescued so I began screaming.
My wrists were suddenly let go and I fell to the floor in a heap and then thrown to a mattress with a satin sheet on it. I heard and then felt the whip again. It didn't really hurt me, but it did humiliate and anger me at the same time.
I had stopped screaming when I heard the voice again, "your panties are wet so you must be enjoying this."
I was shocked to think someone thought I enjoyed this, and yet, why wasn't I struggling? Why didn't I keep screaming? Why was I wet between my legs? My panties were ripped from between my legs. The disembodied voice boomed again" you have the worst fashion sense."
I thought I had good fashion sense! Well, lately I wore whatever I found in the drawer or closet, but that was because I was too busy to clean and wash my clothes.
When I thought about it he was right; I looked ridiculous in some of the outfits I'd been wearing to work. The colors didn't match and just today absentmindedly wearing that short skirt and torn pantyhose and black shoes with a white skirt. The panties were stained and didn't match my bra. I used to be caring about my choice in lingerie, my outfits matched.
The crack of the whip in air and a sting on my rear made me instinctively yelp. I thought of Kevin sitting at home waiting for me. Wondering what happened to me. The police would be involved due to me taken in front of witnesses. My car abandon at a traffic light.
I heard the whip again and sting and I yelped again. I felt the wetness of tears on my cheeks and the wetness of excitement between my legs. In between the stings of the whip I tried to ask what I had done and in between stings I was told to keep silent like a good slave until I was told I could speak.
I was between a betrayal of my own body and a betrayal of another human being to his fellow man. I might die! I realized the whipping had stopped. The voice told me to stand up and turn around 180 degrees. I held my breath and began to move but not fast enough for this man. Sternly he repeated get up! I stood a little quicker but he didn't wait for me to turn around he grabbed me roughly and spun me around. His hands were calloused and large but dexterous. He had a musky scent of a hard working man about him that always made my juices flow even though I'd never told anyone. It made me think of Kevin with the police thinking up a plan to save me, wire taps of the phone and so on.
My captor seemed to be more than a man looking for money. Even though my blind fold was on I sensed that he just wanted to what he called earlier teaching me bondage and discipline.
The voice began again talking of disciplining me to be a slut and love sex and start wearing sexy clothes. He asked me if I loved my husband enough. It suddenly came to me I hadn't said anything yet, all I had done vocally was yelp and occasionally scream. I was thinking that maybe I should not say anything when the man roared answer my question! Do you fuck your husband enough!
I reeled with fear and immediately spoke a word that came out before I thought it. It came from my subconscious mind that controls morality and deep thoughts of right and wrong.
"No! I answered softly but distinctly."
Silence reigned over a few seconds. Then quietly my antagonist responded, "So you admit you don't please your husband. What is he a wimp?"
The question infuriated me; I don't let anyone talk about my husband this way.
"You dirty bastard don't talk" the sting on my right cheek along with the slapping sound cut my sentence short. The blow made me lose balance as my hands were still cuffed. Falling backward on the mattress I felt the cool satin sheet envelope me.
The worst thing was is he knew I actually felt that way. I often wished Kevin was more confident. But he was the lovable Teddy Bear type, humble and sensitive.
