Abduction Secrets

It started out like most Friday night's... a bit of time out with friends, a few drinks, catching up on times had since we were all last together. I didn't want to stay out as late as some of them; so, I called it a night around eleven, and braving the coolness of the wind; went out to my car for a careful ride home. I didn't even hear the footsteps over the noise of the nearby road; a hand was over my mouth before I could even scream, a voice filled with menacing threats in my ear. The forceful hands on me, dragged me into a closely parked vehicle. Another person in the vehicle, wound a tight blindfold onto me, before then tying my wrists and ankles together. Finally, the hold on me was released, and I was laid down onto the floorboards. I could only hear muted conversation as the car headed off.

The fear and adrenaline was high, I was trying to pay attention to the directions taken, to anything that was said, giving me a clue as to what was going on. Unfortunately, I couldn't keep track of it, and with how the traffic was running, I was quickly unsure of where I was any longer. When the vehicle finally stopped, I could only presume we were now in a secluded place, as I was roughly removed from the vehicle, and bodily carried into what I presumed was a building. I was dropped none to carefully onto the floor, all I could really tell at this point was the feel of carpet. I could hear their footsteps moving away, fear seeming trebled; as I could only assume something worse was about to happen.

It couldn't have been more than minutes, although it had dragged by like hours, before I felt someone standing over me. A fist in my hair, painfully dragged me to kneeling bound. The voice, mockingly told me to scream all I wanted now; for there was no one for miles to hear my fear and pain. I tried inching backward upon my knees, knowing nothing of where I was, only that I needed to run. That same voice laughed at me; and I felt a cold touch of steel run along my neck. I was frozen. The knife ran lower along my collar bone, dipping beneath the collar of my shirt, with a simple and harsh pull, I could feel a coolness upon my skin. The knife moved lower, shredding the underwire I wore. I could feel myself cringing away from the blade. His hand bowing me backward, he forced me to stand awkwardly upon the ankle bindings. It took most of my concentration just to remain standing... and the knowledge that failing to stand would not be acceptable. I felt his hand ripping the remainder of my shirt and bra... his hands roughly fondling the bared flesh.

I could feel the tears falling down my face, my voice begging him to let me go. He only laughed, said he enjoyed the sound of my begging; that I would be begging for unimaginable things in the hours to come. I almost wanted to prove him wrong, to stop begging, but, I couldn't -- I didn't want to "help" him in any fashion, and yet, self-preservation demanded I beg for freedom.

His hands continued down the curves of my body, tauntingly, as if to prove he could do whatever he wanted, as if he had all the time in the world. I felt the knife again, along inner thigh dragging upward, I couldn't move for fear of falling, and impaling upon the knife. Perhaps out of pity, I could feel his other hand loosen the ankle binds, knowing I was securely held with the wrist cuffs. It did not take but a breath later, when I felt both of his hands fist into the skirt I was wearing, hearing the sound of cloth shredded as I stood there bared. His mocking tone commenting upon the lack of underwear -- that I must have been hoping to be used tonight. I could only tremble, trying to deny any such idea.

I was begging once more, feeling the heat of his breath upon bare flesh, when I felt the knife against my thigh once more, begging him not to hurt me, promising anything, if he would just let me go. He only laughed, saying he would take everything, and promising that I would be begging for it before long, that I would always crave what he was going to give me. He said he could tell what a whore I was, knew that I would be the perfect slut in bed. I shook my head in denial, again and again.

He kicked my feet apart, his hand within my hair, bowing me backwards lewdly. There was nothing hidden within the pose that he placed me. Without warning, I suddenly felt the odd shaped thickness of the knife handle driven into me. I screamed, as the relative dryness of my pussy was invaded. His mocking tone, only chided that I really must be made more ready before the rest of the night's festivities began. His right hand forcing the handle painfully into me, he leaned downward, trapping a soft nipple within His teeth, painfully biting upon tender flesh, pulling the heavy weight out and upwards, forcing my hips to meet the next thrust of the knife. The pain of the two combined sent cries from my throat, I tried to hold them back, because each one only seemed to encourage him to do more. I could almost feel his teeth meeting together through the thin barrier of my nipple. He pull the knife from me, chuckling at the slickness dotting along the blade, bringing it upward, rubbing one side along my other breast so that I could see the traces of blood he had caused. He demanded that I clean the slutty bloody juices from his knife, pressing it harshly against my lips. Forcing them to open, unless I wanted to cut my lips upon my own teeth. I could taste the tang of blood upon the knife, as I was made to suck the hard surface.

The hand in my hair suddenly forced me to kneeling, the pain in my shoulders intense, as wrists are lifted by their binds, nearly dragged, I tried to crawl to keep up with his pace. The blindness was intensifying all my reactions, I had no idea to where he was taking me. I felt carpet beneath me for most of the short journey, all too soon the cold bite of tile was felt beneath my knees. All I could think, irrationally, was that there it would be an easier mess to clean up in a bathroom when he killed me. I begged almost non-sensibly for him to let me live. He only chuckled, saying perhaps I would be begging the opposite, before he was through with me. Something in his words, struck a primal chord within me, and to a depth of embarrassment I thought I could not reach... I felt my bladder loose warm upon the floor.

Perhaps his anger got the better of him, because the hand that had been nearly lifting me from the floor in my hair, suddenly and forcefully pushed me to the floor, where I was forced to lay in the spreading puddle. The scent of it, mingled with my fear, I trembled there on the floor, begging his forgiveness, apologizing. The only response was the sound of him moving across the floor, I heard the swish of something through the air, just before the pain struck along my back. The force of it was indescribable; I could not help the scream that tore from my lips. I heard his voice threatening in tone... "Did I tell you to piss, whore? Did I tell you to do anything, you dirty slut?" Each question punctuated with another lash. I tried to answer, but, the force of the whipping kept words from being spoken. After about six strokes, he stopped long enough for me to answer... "No".. and another lash fell, crossing over many of the first ones... "No what, whore?" It took a moment of thought, trying to concentrate beyond the pain, before I could answer "No, Sir." He seemed satisfied for the moment, because there was a respite in the lashings.

His hand reached down, dragging me back onto my knees, my head arching back slightly, I could feel myself blushing, knowing how lewdly I was displayed before him. I heard the sound of the zipper on his jeans, I wanted to beg him to stop, but had almost resigned myself to knowing it would not end, no matter what words I used. "Open your mouth, whore!" was all that was said to me. I could feel the shudder run through me unbidden, at the thought of him shoving his cock into my mouth; I had only ever done such a thing reluctantly -- and having this stranger force himself on me this way seemed almost worse than even the whipping had been. I was bracing myself, pondering, even at his mercy if I could bite what was shoved into my mouth. It, unfortunately, was an unfounded thought, I didn't even register what he was doing until a heartbeat or two later... when I felt the hot stream of piss running down my body. He left nothing of my body untouched, instinct forced my lips to close. I could feel the force of the slap, just before the back of his hand connected with my cheek... "I said keep it open, whore, now it will be worse" I couldn't imagine worse, until I felt the soft head of his cock between my lips, his voice ordering me to swallow, as the last of his stream began overflowing my mouth. His hand forcing my lips to close around his cock, I had no choice but to swallow, gagging through the ordeal. I stupidly hoped it would end there, even attempted to lean back slightly, only to have the still soft member shoved further in my mouth as he commanded, "suck the last drops out, you dirty slut, you know you want to." I felt truly helpless at this point, wondering what more could happen... but, I did as he ordered. I truly didn't think I would survive if I disobeyed much more.

I could feel his hips beginning to move, feel the throbbing of blood beginning to fill his thickening length. It was almost too much, even before he was fully hard, it was chocking as he became fully erect. The force of his thrusts bruised my stretched lips as he drove his cock to the hilt with each stroke. I could feel the weight of his sack slapping the underside of my chin with each raping thrust. My cries and whimpers, muffled around him only seemed to serve his pleasure. I was forced to steal breaths between all to random moments. He held himself buried into my throat as if waiting for the inevitable release, only to pull completely free of my mouth just before. I could hear the splash of his cum upon the floor, confusion filling me. The confusion did not last long, as he forced my lips to the floor, I could still not see a thing, although I could smell the scent of my own piss near. "Clean it up whore, like the worthless beast you are!" he commanded, and shoved my mouth to the floor. My tears mingling with the mess upon the floor, as I tried to keep from falling over. I tasted the tiles, cleaning where he seemed to direct me, not even wanting to think about what was sliding into my belly.

When he seemed satisfied at the job done, he pulled me bodily a bit further across the room. Finally the bonds were cut upon my wrists; I felt an unnatural relief, which was of course short lived. Left within a kneeling position, my wrists were shackled spread against a cool tile wall. I heard the sound of some sort of winch, which began raising my hands higher, until I was forced to standing, leaning forward slightly. That lean was greatly increased as his hands roughly pulled backwards upon my hips. His feet kicked mine apart almost painfully wide. I knew the position left me as some type of wanton offering; it was all I could do to not coil and huddle against the wall. "Do not move whore, or it will become far worse. Right now you only serve my pleasure... I can increase the number of people participating in this room with just a word." He proclaimed. The way it was phrased, made me wonder a moment if all I was forced to do, was for an audience. I begged him not to; he only chuckled, saying he would do whatever he wanted.

Without warning, I felt the whip once more, along the backs of my thighs and creeping higher. I flinched from each lash. The scream elicited when it first fell along my pussy was spine chilling; the pain shooting into the depths of me. I felt like nothing but raw nerves when the lashes completed. Somehow I knew he was not finished with me. I could feel the tease of whip strands downward along my thighs, as the thick handled stroked upward along the hidden folds. His smirking tone mocking me... "all wet for me now are you, slut? I knew you were nothing but a dirty whore." I could feel a calloused hand along my ass, forcing the cheeks open as he taunted, "Should I fuck this tight ass, whore? Hmmmm? Should I whip that tender puckered ring, slut? You know you want to feel this cock, don't you, cunt?" I could feel the thickly engorged head pressing against it. I thought he was just threatening, so I did not answer through the whimpers. As punishment, I felt something shoved deep into my ass, its edges to rough and angular for it to be his cock, as if in answer, I felt the whip strands along my thighs. My scream was near deafening, the dryness ripping flesh as the handle suck in.

He leaned down closer, menacingly whispering in my ear... "You know better than to not answer, don't you, whore? I shouldn't have to waste my time teaching you a lesson over and over should I, filthy slut? I think you are just enjoying this too much, cunt, aren't you?" I could only stammer, "Yes Sir... No Sir.. No, Sir... No... please, no, Sir" forgetting the questions. His response was a mocking laughter. "Oh, I think otherwise, whore," as his thick fingers prodded along my pussy. "See how wet you are for me, whore? You want me to fuck you. You want to be my fucktoy, my slut, my beast." I just kept shaking my head with each proclamation. His hot breath moved ever so slightly lower, a hand raising my head upward with a fist in my hair; I could feel his teeth close upon the throb of pulse at the side of my neck, tightening to the point of just breaking flesh. I knew I was truly at his twisted form of mercy.

His hand began moving the whip's handle in my dry ass, the pain was intense. My screams only served his pleasure, there was no thought given to the pain and reactions within me. I had come to realize I was merely just there for a place to put his cock, a way to demean someone as brutally as possible. The improvised dildo was pulled from my ass, leaving the hole gaping. As he shoved the tainted leather into my mouth, he ordered me to hold it there, because he liked the sound of muffled screams.

I did not believe there could be more degradation... didn't really think there could be more pain. But, as he finished speaking, the broad thickness of his cock was driven to the hilt within my pussy. Grateful for the traitorous slickness of inner walls, to lessen the tears of tender flesh. Only a small comfort, when I felt the head of his cock bottom out upon my cervix. He only forced himself deeper. I could feel the sting of perspiration along every welt. My cries and screams muffled, as his strokes became quicker. I felt one hand grasp tightly upon a hip, holding me motionless as he continued the pounding force; the other reached around, pinching and pulling upon my clit. "Feel how hard your clit is, little whore? You didn't know how bad you needed to be a whore, did you, cunt? It was all you were ever meant to be, wasn't it, slut?" His mocking phrases taunted over and over. I hated myself right then, almost as much as I hated him. I could feel the reactions of lust within me. I had known it was there, I never let myself go like this. I had no choice to but to let go this night.

As his fingers tormented my clit, his thickly engorged head again and again within me, to my shame I felt myself responding. I felt myself almost welcoming each painful stroke, almost pressing toward them. The cries did not lessen, only changing perhaps in the tone of them. I felt the first wave of orgasm crash over me, my knees buckling with the force of it. Both of his hands suddenly gripping my hips painfully, as he worked himself toward the edge.

I could feel each powered burst of seed as it filled my cunt. I could feel the lustfully slicked walls milking the length of him, as he had forced my mouth to do earlier. As he finished, he almost as an afterthought, wiped the blood-streaked juices from his cock. I could not support myself, my body collapsing, held upright only by the bonds upon my wrists; the cool of the tile upon ravaged flesh. I was left shivering there.