The wind whipped the last drops of rain in random patterns across the street, and traffic lights reflected red and green streaks of color across the deserted downtown. "I sure wouldn't want to be caught out on a night like this," Phil thought to himself, and mechanically checked his watch. 3:12 AM Wednesday morning. No wonder downtown is deserted. Driving through areas like this always gave him the willies. It was almost enough to keep him from feeling drowsy after his 16 hour cross country trip - but not quite. Why did he have to miss his turn on the interstate and end up on the bad side of town?
When you start seeing things, it makes you know that you are too tired to be driving. Was that a dog darting out of the corner towards the road? Phil shook his head and looked again. Nothing there. "Steady, boy. You'll kill somebody! Better stop and get a coffee. Its still 45 minutes back to the house." Now there was a girl over by the electric pole up ahead. He shook his head again, but she didn't disappear. He slowed down, and looked again. She was real. She was naked. He slammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop. She was tied to the pole. Tiredness forgotten, Phil jumped from the car.
Ordinarily, one does not see girls tied to telephone poles in real life. Yet here she was - and it was obvious that she was all girl. He gaped. She stirred against the ropes and tried to pull away as he looked. She wasn't very successfully. Both arms were pulled tightly behind her back. Her feet were secured to the pole with one coil of rope, and her upper torso was encircled above her breasts and below her pits. Farther circles of rope around each thigh held her roughly upright. Her pussy bulged out, and begged to be handled. She was wearing a red ball gag. Around her neck a white notecard was attached to a cord.
Phil knew he ought to release the poor girl - but she was unbelievably helpless and strikingly beautiful. He couldn't help but stare. Her waist was small and trim. Her breasts were perfect and bulging. Her square face was wrinlked with apprehension, but its wide, angular features would have done credit to a supermodel. Her elbows and wrists were bound tightly to the pole behind her - forearms parallel to the rough dark wood. Her halfhearted struggles only made her more desirable. Her wet hair was plasterd over her glistening body. He touched her side, and she shuddered. He glanced at the note, which was laminated and remarkably readable, and could not help but grinning.
"To whoever finds me.
I have no job, and no life.
I have nowhere to go.
I am yours. You may do
whatever you like with me."
"This changes everything!" He glanced around, and no one was in sight. His trusty Swiss Army knife was out, and he sliced through the cords that bound her. She collapsed onto the ground, and he picked her up. Still no one around! The trunk! He popped the hatch, and stuffed her in. She fought a bit, but not much. The lid clicked closed, and he got back into the car, knees shaking. Two distant headlights shone brightly in the distance, coming fast. Heart pounding, Phil accelerated off into the night.
-
It must have been a hallucination. People just don't find girls tied to telephone poles. And even if one were in the habit of finding such things, one instinctively knows that they would not a girl like the one he had just found! Girls don't just give themselves away to random strangers. He never got lucky. "Just drive," he told himself. 5 minutes. He was to the interstate. He took the on ramp, rain blurring the windshield wipers.
What was he going to do with her? Red and blue lights in the mirror. What the fuck! His knees were shaking as he pulled to the side, but the cop shot on past. 10 more miles! Were those lights following him? His exit was ahead, and he took them. The lights went on into the night. 3:21 AM. Eight miles of twisting roads. Wide awake now, mind racing. God, she was gorgeous. Whatever he liked! It had been three years since his wife had died. Three long years to think about what he liked.
Tires crunched on wet gravel of the long secluded driveway. 4:03 AM. Into the garage, and shut the door. Heart pounding, dick screaming. Pop the trunk. There she was. She had worked off the gag, and torn off the tag. She looked at him wild-eyed. "Wh-wh-where a-am I?" Phil grinned sowly. "You are home!" Her eyes closed, and she swallowed. She looked so helpless, huddled in that trunk. Cursing himself, Phil asked her "Did you write out the tag?" She swallowed again, nodded, and mumbled "yes" in a barely audible voice. Phil smiled. "Welcome home, beautiful. Let's get you inside." He helped her out of the trunk and into the house. Her teeth were chattering. He got her a blanket, and she wrapped up and sank into his easy chair. Her eyes partly closed.
This was just wrong. He was going to get in big trouble! "Listen. I have just 2 questions for you." She looked at him. He struggled for words. "Why?"
"It's a Sorority thing. To qualify for elected office, you have to spin the wheel. Most of the tasks are simple, like going commando to class or kissing a professor. Mine was to be tied up naked downtown with that sign for 30 minutes. If no one found me, I was in. If someone like you came along, I have to persuade them to willingly let me go. If I don't follow through, I have to leave the University."
"So you want to go through with it?"
A look of determination came into her face. "I will. I have to show that bitch Raquel up. She hates me - and says I'll never make it. She's the one who picked tonight to tie me in the rain, and she tied me really tight!"
He laughed. "God, I'm glad I found you!"
She looked a bit funny, and then said timidly "I think I'm glad, too." A slow blush spread across her face, and she pulled her blanket tighter. "All I ask is that you keep me satisfied until you decide to let me go."
"Well, then. It looks like I have some work to do. I'm going to begin the owning process immediately. Tomorrow, we can work out details of what I will expect from you before I release you. Are you OK with that?"
She nodded yes.
"Wait here!"
-
Back to the garage. Lots of rope. The ball gag. An old horse crop. Two old padlocks. The dog chain. He hurriedly filled a bag, then raced back inside. She stood willingly in front of him, wrapped tightly in his blanket. It only took moments to relieve her of her blanket and tie her hands behind her back. Her titties bulged, nipples upright.
"You like this, don't you, bitch?"
"I've - I've always fantasized about being raped."
"This is no fantasy, and this is no rape. This is ownership." He wound a coil of rope around her neck, and held the other end like a leash.
"Your name is now Candy. You belong to me. I am your master, and I have the power to make your life pleasant, or to make it hell." Slowly, deliberately, he began tightening the rope around her neck, cutting off her breath. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. He loosened the rope, and she breathed heavily. "You live to please me. I have the power to take your life if you do not please me. You will answer all questions promptly, and you will refer to me as Master." Is that clear?"
"Yes, master." She mumbled the last part.
"Who else have you fucked, little slut?"
