Devon's eyes fluttered open slowly, nausea softly rolling in the pit of his stomach. It was dark in here, and he couldn't move. He wasn't actually quite sure where he was – he'd been at a socialites' party before, it'd been forced onto him by his overbearing mother. His partner had been "that vivacious girl from next door", Mother had so wanted them to work out and pushed it hard enough that it had. She'd procured him a date, finally, and it was with the most perfect physical specimen of a woman she could imagine. Amelia was beautiful, smart, and exceedingly rich, the only thing his mother cared about anymore. His Father's factory empire was showing the first signs of crumbling, and Mother was eager to latch onto a lifeboat.
He'd known Amelia his whole life, a selfish brat who threw tantrums when she'd not gotten her way, a kicker of sand and a general bully. She had only been seen briefly the last couple of years, but now she was 21, a perfect bud ripe for plucking. He was eager to meet her again though, his parents had gushed about what a lovely girl she was, and at 24, he figured he had better settle down and make his mother proud sooner rather than later, leaping at any chance he could get. As a thin, weedy individual with ashen blonde hair and a bony, pale face, it wasn't many.
Amelia had turned up at his door in an expensive looking dress, all silk and bows, nipped into the right places to proudly display her trim waist, wide hips and large, soft breasts. With long, soft brunette hair up in ringlets, pretty lips painted in a simple lipstick, and softly shadowed eyes, she'd seemed perfectly demure and sweet at first, as if she'd turned a new leaf and grown. Her attitude however, changed as soon as they left together. Rude and selfish as always, the petulant girl had latched onto a bottle of vodka and grown steadily more obnoxious, and he left her quickly to sit on a plastic chair and brood. He'd been a fool to assume she'd changed over time. The only difference was that now she was a slut too, off with a group of bronze, muscled men as soon as he'd turned around. She'd come back once, to offer him a bitter drink she'd been given and not wanted, and then trotted off again, no doubt to some other boy who'd get her a better, more expensive drink. Not that those things mattered anymore, though, his surroundings were swimming into focus and slowly making sense.
He was in a chair. Not of his own will, apparently – his arms were wound behind him uncomfortably, laced to the back of the wooden chair with his own tie. He seemed to be in some sort of basement or warehouse, shelves and crates were around, but his chair was right in the centre. His dress pants were unzipped and pulled down slightly, his shy member flopping ungracefully out of cotton underwear. There was a swift rush of blood to his head, cheeks flushing red immediately. What the hell had happened? Had he been kidnapped?
A shuffling movement further away from him drew his attention, head whipping up in fear.
"Hello? What – What's going on? Please?" there was a shameful quaver to his voice but he no longer cared. Kidnapping was whirling through his mind now; he knew exactly how much he'd be worth, what with his father's business. But out of the shadows stepped a figure he wasn't expecting – his date.
"A..Amelia?"
She was grinning broadly, leant up against an empty bookshelf. "Hi."
Devon swallowed and smiled nervously, embarrassment flaming through his body. Of course she had to find him with his pants down – she'd tell the whole of his already small social world and he'd never live down being saved by her.
"Hi – can – can you help me out? I don't know what happened, please, I just-"
"Oh, hah. That was me." Amelia pushed herself off the bookshelf, wobbling slightly on her pink stilettos. "Your tie was a bitch to undo."
She was tipsy, apparently. Devon digested what she had just said slowly, staring blankly.
"Wh- why? What?" He struggled against his bonds and glared at her. "Is this a game?"
Amelia giggled, a surprisingly harsh sound, and bobbed down to crouch in front of him, running her gloved hands up his thighs. "You could say that." He jolted in surprise at this movement, an embarrassing rush flooding to his groin. He was completely at her mercy, legs spread like a whore in a dirty movie as she unbuttoned his shirt, slipping it off of his shoulders to expose his bare chest.
"Amelia! Please! Jesus, now isn't the time, just let me out!"