This is a work of fiction about adults. Favs, Follows, Votes and Comments are all welcome. - Gonzo
Content: This story has BDSM themes, consensual non-consent, kidnapping, knife play, and bondage.
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You know that lovely little nugget of bumper sticker philosophy, [Not all who wander, are lost.] Precious right? If I was going to use a bumper sticker to express myself it would have to be; [Not all who are kidnapped, go unwillingly.]
I guess you do need some background. I am dating two guys. To protect their reputations I will call them 'Do-Good' and 'Bad-Dom'. Hey it's the 21st Century after all. I was already dating Bad-Dom, when Do-Good singled me out. Bad-Dom and I have an open relationship. It was okay with him.
I mean what half-sane girl would not swoon at Do-Good, all rugged good looks and sweetness. Always bringing flowers, remembering that I am allergic to carnations. My secret vice are these small dark chocolates from this small Mom and Pop store around the corner from work. He even rides this lovely old Indian motorcycle he calls Horse. Everything a girl could want.
The only problem at the time was that he was so Vanilla that he made Vanilla look kinky, and he just did not get the idea of open relationships. I kept trying to tell him and he would pat my hand and assure me that I am okay by him, that is my Big Hearted Lovable Duffus.
This problem all came to a head a few days ago, Bad-Dom and I were having a great date. He asked me to wear this outfit he had given me, a blue silk oriental style long sleeved dress, along with a matching bra and g-string set, and even these lovely three inch heels with peek-a-boo toes. He and a friend surprised me in the parking lot after work, he gave me a quick love tap on the back of the head and then gave his lovely maniacal laugh saying loudly "I have you now Miss Fenwick, you have spurned my advances for the last time."
I swooned into his arms and with a little help from his friend they tossed me onto the padded floor of the cargo van. Bad-Dom followed me into the back as his friend got behind the wheel and drove away. As the van turned out onto the street, I thought I heard the familiar rumble of Do-Good's Horse chasing after us.
Bad-Dom, busied himself securing my hands behind my back and my feet to my hands. I yelled and struggled, not making it easy but not truly trying to resist. He stuffed a pair of my old panties in my mouth and threw a pillowcase over my head. The taste of my own sex that had dried into the fabric filled my mouth as his scent from the pillowcase filled my nostrils. I zoned out at that point, relaxing into the loving embrace of the ropes he was tying around me.
Sometime later the pillowcase was whipped off my head, bringing me back to the reality of being bound hand and foot. The van was gone instead all I could see was a dirty wooden floor. His brightly shined boots were just on the edge of my vision.
"Welcome back, my dear."
I tried to speak but the lace was stuck to my tongue, I wanted to scream and yell. My panties were soaked and I could feel the roughness of the floor through the silk of the dress against my hardened nipples.
"Let's get you out of those slutty clothes." I felt a handcuff snick closed around my wrist. The rough ropes came away from hands and ankles. He helped me pick myself up and sat me in a creaking kitchen chair. He snapped the other end of the cuff closed around the chairs back rail.
He stepped back to look me over and that allowed me to do the same. I tracked slowly upward, his highly polished archaic boots ending halfway to his knees, skin tight black leather pants revealed a bulge along his left thigh, torso covered in a black silk poets shirt, open halfway down his chest. Black hair slicked down and his mustache was waxed into the classic handlebar.
"Why are you dressed like a slut?" He reached out with a black leather gloved hand and ripped the cloth out of my mouth. "Well?"
Every time he called me a slut, that word; it made me a little wetter, "These are my work clothes..."
"Don't lie to me, harlot" He smacked my face with his other hand. "You dress like a slut because you want people to know you are a slut."
He moved away and brought me back a bottle of water, I drank slowly until the bottle was empty, he tossed the bottle away. He produced another handcuff, snapping it around my freehand and the other end he connected above my head, before relocating the first handcuff also above my head.
He grabbed my chin forcing me to look him in the eye. "Well Slut, you still don't have an answer for me?"
"I am no..." he slapped me. Each time I denied it and he stopped me all I wanted to do was cum for him right then, but I knew he wanted me to hold it.
"Yes, you are a slut and now you are mine." He walked away and pushed a button on the wall, in response a clunking grinding noise started above me.
That word; mine, his, to do with what he wanted to dress how he pleased. I am no one's slave or property, but submitting to his will for this night, this scene made my pussy ache for his touch and my nipples yearn for his sharp teeth. It made me want him even more.
The clunking grinding noise drew my attention, looking up at the noise to see my hands were cuffed to a spreader bar that was slowly raising above my head.
"Crap." The bar pulled me upward by my wrists, forcing me to stand up as he walked away and around the corner. The clunking grinding noise stopped as it pulled me all but up right. I stood, all the way up gripping the bar my hands were cuffed to.
I could hear him talking to someone, "Where's the van?"
"Returned to the rental company."
"Any sign of the boy scout, or the cops?"
"I haven't seen him since we lost him on the highway and nothing about a kidnapping on the scanner or the radio. No police calls to the pickup site or here."
"Excellen..." The rest of the conversation was covered by a train rolling past the building, by the time it had passed he walked up behind me.
"So slut, have you thought about what I said?"
"I am no slut."
"Tisk, tisk, you are a slut and a liar."
I heard a metallic fluttering sound start and stop, I gasped as a single sharp point of ice cold fire touched the nape of my neck, I felt the sharp point of cold fire trace its way down my neck and past the collar of my dress. I knew it was his butterfly knife, the razor sharp blade parted the material of my dress. As the line of fire traced down my spine, I held perfectly still against the edge. I felt the line cross my bra strap without cutting it, continuing down. The line of fire jumped the band of g-string, before picking up on my right ass cheek. The line continued down to my knee where my dress stopped.
