Abducted Ch 10 1

Chapter 10: Mission Accomplished??

We now have plenty of time. The tension seems to have left the warehouse.

I am relieved. Harris sits back, gratified for a job well done. Elizabeth just seems defeated. And Chano?

"He went to get something to eat, Boss."

"What, again?!"

"He says he gets hungry when he's nervous." Harris smiled, enigmatically. "He says, you made him nervous."

I chuckle, and approach Elizabeth. She perks up, and tries to twist away. I grab a handful of her hair, almost roughly, and pull her tear-streaked face close to mine.

"I bet your arms hurt, don't they?" I produce the box-cutter from my jacket, and she flinches. I just pull her closer to me. "Steady, settle down."

With a flick, I cut her wrist ropes from the catwalk above.

She collapses, sobbing, in my arms.

I think to myself, all this could have been avoided. It was actually quite a little adventure, and it could have been ... fun. There were parts of her captivity that I know she enjoyed. I could tell.

I hold her in my arms, her hands still bound tight in front, her ankles still tied; my rope gag still in her mouth. I rub her sides, gently, this time. I finally get her to stop crying, and to stop shaking. "It will be only a little while, now, Elizabeth. Soon, it will all be over."

We have the codes, but we won't move until quarter to six. That's over an hour from now. Suddenly, Chano getting some food sounds pretty good right now. It'll be a celebration, a going-away dinner. We'll eat, get rich, and we'll all go our separate ways, ... but then, there was Elizabeth.

How do we let her go? Do we let her go, at all?

I breathe deeply. This could have been fun. The whole afternoon could have been fun.

And, as I hold her in my arms, stroking her head, rubbing her sides, I feel myself growing ... larger, as she trembles in my embrace.

It could have been fun. It still can be. I've got an hour to kill.

I reach down and cut her hands loose. She looks at me, confused, ... until I draw her arms behind her again, and begin tying the loose ends of the rope together.

Her nipples become hard, again.

Just like my cock is becoming. Hard. Erect.

I rub my hand greedily along her ass, and along her thighs. I force my fingers between them, and massage her there, just below her panties.

"We've got an hour to kill, Elizabeth," I whisper.

I crouch, and catch her at the waist. I straighten up, and once more I hoist the pretty, petite, bound-and-gagged-assistant-bank-manager-with-the-tear-drop-ass high into the air, over my shoulder.

"Harris, ... I've got some 'business' to tend to. I'll be back well before an hour is up."

Harris glanced up from behind his computers, and checked his watch. He nodded, and sat back down.

I began hauling Elizabeth toward the manager's office. That's where we left the mattress, earlier, ...

***********************************************

I am hanging like a piece of meat dripping water from the bucket that they used to bring me back to consciousness.

I look over at School's face and it is different: not in a good way. I can tell that he is furious and no longer has any patience for me.

I start to shake; not because I am cold, but because I am scared; really scared.

I guess in his position I could understand, however I am the one tied and strung up with my hands high above my head on tiptoes barely making contact with the floor.

All three men stand there and look at me like hungry lions drooling over their prey; only the prey is me and the prey is wearing nothing but a pair of teeny light blue panties displaying very erect nipples and, again, feeling that warm rush of sexual energy creating goose bumps all over its exposed skin.

Damn me and damn my fantasies of being tied and helpless.

I don't like the look in School's face as he puts on a pair of black leather gloves and slowly walks towards me. He strokes my cheek and calmly says, "It is time to get your password, Ms. Harley."

He is done being nice. I can tell.

He clenches his fists and I try to tiptoe myself away from him, but I am hanging from a single rope; so where do I think I can go?

School takes a fighting stance and cocks an arm.

I close my eyes and brace myself for the first blow of his fist to my face. I know it is going to hurt; to hurt badly, but I just can't give up my password.

It isn't that I feel that I owe the bank or my manager, Mr. Dietrich, the little letch.

I try to convince myself that it is more about preventing a crime, but this just doesn't explain it entirely.

It seems that the real truth is this entire experience has brought out a latent side of me that I have been able to suppress for most of my life until now.

My entire body has been on high sensual alert ever since they grabbed me. I have been so close to another orgasm for hours now that my mind is no longer in control. My starving libido is in charge.

Even the threat of bodily harm doesn't seem to deter my need to be helpless; hanging almost naked in an open warehouse leered at by these three strangers.

Without any comparison this has been the most sexually charged experience that I have ever had.

Every hand on my naked skin, every slap on my barely covered bottom, every grope of School's fingers between my legs, has my body screaming for more.

God, I wish I wasn't this way; a little freak craving humiliation, forced exposure, and a firm hand.

My first experience with feeling so helpless was as a young woman while working on my Master's Degree in International Finance.

I was 21 years old and had just grown into my woman's body. I was a very late bloomer; very late. For all of my early life I was skinny with bumps for breasts and extremely self-conscious about myself.

Although my body had finally filled out I kept pretty much to myself burying my head in my studies feeling that no young man would ever find me attractive.

Then one day my fellow grad students invited me to a mystery party where we pick our roles out of a hat and play act until the mystery is solved, although this particular mystery turned out to have a bit of a fetish twist to it.

I was absolutely giddy with joy to be invited as I put on a crème colored rayon dress that buttoned from top to bottom along with a brand new bra and panty set that I had been saving for special occasions. It was a crème colored silk string bikini panty with a matching triangle bra. I completed the outfit with a pair of white thigh highs and tan high heels.

I had never felt so sexy or alive.

The party was being held in a large mansion that had been converted to graduate student housing with very ornate woodwork and pillars throughout the large rooms. Once I arrived we all shared take-out along with a few bottles of wine that loosened everyone up.

It was now time to pick our roles out of a bowl and I became the femme fatale who finds herself gagged and tied to a pillar in the lair of a dastardly dominatrix.

Tentatively I let my hands be tied behind my back around a pillar that supported the opening from the living area to the dining room. My ankles then were tied together and as a final touch for authenticity a ball gag was inserted in my mouth and strapped around my head.

With my hands tied behind me and around the pillar, the fabric of my dress stretched tightly across my bodice. The material was such that it clearly showed my beige triangle bra underneath, and although I am not very large on top, it also clearly revealed my awakening little nubs poking against the fabric.

My obvious excitement did not go unnoticed by the other participants and as the game continued they thought it would be more realistic if a few of the buttons to my dress would be undone.

As I shook my head in protest the classmate playing the dominatrix made a game of it by unbuttoning one button at a time asking for and getting verbal encouragement from the other players.

As each button was undone and more and more of me was showing the game took on a different intent.

My fellow classmates filled with wine and libidinous desires wanted a captive to play with. And that captive was to be me, the bookworm.

My dress was now completely open revealing my teeny crème colored panties and bra. I was completely helpless to protest and extremely embarrassed although I also had a wonderfully warm vibration coursing throughout my body.

My tiny nipples pressed provocatively against the thin silk fabric of my triangle bra and I could feel moisture starting to form between my legs.

The mystery game was definitely over and a new one had begun.

Everyone was staring at me while the student playing the role of the dominatrix took a hold of my dress at the shoulders and pulled it as far down my arms as it could go until it hung limply completely exposing me to everyone in the room.

I continued to mumble my objections through the ball gag in my mouth, however my credibility was visually challenged as my nipples became more erect and I couldn't stop myself from squeezing my thighs together.

The embarrassment was overwhelming as everyone recognized my obvious excitement despite their inebriated state.

My humiliation was not anywhere close to finished when one of the female students went up to her room and brought back a massager with a large knob on the end to "get to those hard to reach areas."

As I squirmed and pulled at my bonds, they strapped it to my leg placing it right up against my lower lips and turned it on.

The sensations were incredible as every nerve ending in my body reacted to the stimulating vibrations probing my most sensitive erogenous zone.

Within seconds I was in the throes of my first of many torso-convulsing orgasms as my audience cheered me on.

I have never felt so mortified nor so completely uninhibited as my focus would rotate from the overpowering stimulation of the massager to the eyes of all of the grad students enjoying my orgasmic exhibition.

Everyone there was treated to my private faces of orgasmic delight as I writhed and squirmed while the vibrating knob performed its magic.

The male grad students all had pants poking erections and many of the female grad students had their own sets of fabric pressing nipples as they watched me perform my orgasmic dance.

Once they knew that I was becoming physically exhausted supported by the spreading wet spot between my legs, the massager was turned off and I was released from the pole.

I indignantly removed the ball gag from my mouth and stormed out of the house.

For the rest of the semester no one looked at me the same as the sensuality of that evening was ingrained into all of our memories. I avoided everyone as best I could, but the memories of that evening found me often awake at night with my hand deep inside my panties replaying every intoxicating moment.

Nothing before or after that evening totally dominated all of my senses until I was taken hostage by these three men.

All of these thoughts race through my head as I brace myself for School's first bruising blow to my face.

After what seems like 10 minutes I slowly open my eyes to see a smile of triumph on Harry Potter's face as he whispers something to School.

Harry then smugly approaches me and whispers my password into my ear. My entire body gives up as I find myself hanging limply; all the fight has been taken out of me. I am defeated.

School cuts me down and I fall into his arms. He stands me back up and cuts the ropes on my hands and reties them behind me. His hands explore my naked body. As he pinches one of my still very erect nipples between the thumb and forefinger of one hand, his other hand slides down my back cupping my bottom; squeezing it hard. I moan pushing my nylon covered mound out and away and feel his hand slide down my bottom following the natural curve of my butt down and then in. His exploring fingers find my wet spot and start to massage my swollen lower lips. My body arches in response as another moan escapes my lips.

I hate how I react to this man and my situation. Isn't he supposed to be the bad guy?

I give him no resistance as he slings me over his back and walks towards the little room with the mattress.

The rope gag in my mouth is soaked with my saliva just as my panties are again becoming soaked with another kind of juice.