Belle Out of Control

I woke up feeling out of it, and when I opened my eyes, my world was still black.

I wriggled my arms, my legs—didn't get very far. Still tied down. Fuck.

All around me, there was silence. I wondered where he was. Was he there in the dark, watching me?

Maybe it wasn't even dark, but I was still blindfolded, so I didn't know any better. What I did know was that I had to pee. Badly.

"Hey, mister!" I called out. My voice didn't carry very far. I was hoarse, probably from lack of fluids, and maybe because the water he'd given me to sip last night had been drugged. That would explain why I felt so woozy.

"Hey!" I yelled, as best I could.

Still silence.

Then I heard a chuckle.

He'd been there all along.

"Mister, please. Can you take me to the bathroom? I'm not gonna try anything funny."

I heard him sigh. "I suppose you do have to get off that little bed sometime. Bathroom's as good a time as any."

I felt his hands on my wrists, then heard the sound of latches. When my arms were free, I gratefully stretched them, cracking and rolling my wrists. I moved them around gingerly, trying to get them used to moving again.

He unfastened my legs. "Sit up very slowly," he instructed, and I did so, the blood rushing to my head.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Dehydrated, stiff, and like somebody drugged me."

He laughed. "And also sarcastic. I admire your spunk, Belle."

"May I please go to the bathroom?"

"You may, but I will take you there. Since we're just getting to know each other, I will stand outside the door—but that door stays open. Once you're done on the toilet, I'll help you freshen up."

"And then what?" I asked.

"And then we eat," he said, as if it were the most logical thing in the world.

He took my hand and helped me climb down off the bed. He pulled me gently down what must have been a hallway. I walked slowly, both due to exhaustion and also because I was weighing my options. What if I tore off the blindfold and bolted, or tried to fight him?

No, I told myself, best to try that after you've eaten. You're way too weak for that. Plus, you don't want to do this on a full bladder, right?

I could tell we were in the bathroom because the soft carpet had been replaced by tile. He led me into the room and helped me to sit down on the toilet. I desperately needed to go, but he was still standing there.

"You said you'd stay outside the door," I said softly.

"So I did. Very well then. Tell me when you're done." Listening to his footsteps walk the other way on the tile floor, I thought I was going to burst. As soon as I heard him stop walking, I let loose and peed like never before. The relief felt incredible, but I couldn't help but feel ashamed; I knew he was hovering outside the door, listening to every drop, every relieved sigh.

My hands shot out, grappling for the toilet paper. I found it, wiped, and stood up on shaky legs. "I'm ready," I called.

He came in and turned on the water. "I'm running a bath for you. You'll get in, and I'll help you clean yourself."

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Have I ever not been?" he asked.

"Um, you kidnapped me. I'd say that's not very nice."

"You don't have to go to work today. I'd say that's a vacation."

"What do you do?" I asked.

"Of all the questions you could be asking right now, you want to know what I do?"

"Yes. Besides kidnap young women."

"I work with computers. I can do much of my work from home, and often do."

"Can you make the water warm, please?"

"What?"

"The water. I've been chilly here," I said. "I would like a hot bath."

"Yes, of course," he said, and I heard him adjusting the faucet. Shortly after, he turned the water off and said, "Allow me to help you into the tub."

I stuck my hand out, and he took it. "Lift your leg up," he said, guiding me so one leg was in the tub. I sighed with pleasure, feeling the hot water on my foot and calf.

"Next leg," he said, and I lifted my other one in. "Now sit."

I sat, shakily, but god, did that water feel good. My muscles were thrilled, and the chill was getting steamed off my skin.

"Tell me when you're ready to be washed," he said. I nodded, but knew I'd need a few minutes to enjoy this simple comfort.

After a short while I said, "Ready," and I felt his hand plunge into the water. I instinctively scooted back, and he laughed. "Do you really think I'm going to hurt you?"

"I don't really know what the hell you're going to do," I said, my voice coming out raspy.

"Well, first I'm going to bathe you," he said, and I felt the warm friction of a washcloth on me. He dipped it into the water and onto my, washing my chest, arms, back, and legs. The shower gel smelled of sugar cookies, which seemed out of place for a kidnapper's bathroom, but at least it was pleasant.

He let the washcloth slip into the water. I felt his hands, slick with shower gel, massage my tits. I moaned softly, and then he squeezed hard. "Ow!" I yelped.

"Just wanted to make sure you were still sassy," he said, laughing, taking the opportunity to reach down and slip a finger into me. I clenched my muscles and tried to squeeze my legs together, but the invading finger was already in there.

"You feel dirty," he said glibly, taking the washcloth and gently washing my folds, my inner thighs.

"Who made me that way?" I retorted.

"You were born that way. I just happened to find you." He slid his hands off me, and I heard him pull himself up. "Reach up and take my hand."

I obeyed, and he helped me out of the tub. He turned me around, and I heard more water running.

"Here," he said, handing me something thin. "You can brush your teeth."

I did so, and when I was done, I felt around for the faucet, turned it on, and rinsed my mouth out. He handed me a towel, and I dried myself as best I could.

"Now we're going to go to the kitchen. Come with me."

"Are we going to eat?"

He laughed. "Yes. Yes, we are."

Once out of the bathroom, he dropped my hand, and I heard him hurrying away. "Hey!" I called.

"Follow the sound of my voice," he said.

I turned blindly, trying to walk toward him.

"No," he said sharply.

I turned again. Was I going in the wrong direction?

"Crawl," he said coldly.

I was confused. He'd actually been sweet before, washing me down, and now he wanted me to get all dirty on the floor?

"Are you sure?"

"Don't question me when I give you orders, Belle. Crawl to me."

I sighed and dropped down to the floor, getting on my hands and knees. The linoleum was cold, and I didn't like it.

"Come this way."

I dumbly crawled toward the voice, hoping I wasn't going to crash into any appliances on the way.

"Stop," he said. I heard the scraping of a chair. "I'm sitting down. You are to stay on the floor until I allow you to get up. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Now, come toward me. You need to work for your lunch."

"Work for it?"

"I want to see how well you use that pretty mouth." I felt his hand on my head, guiding me to him. "If you bite, you'll regret it, so don't."

"I wouldn't," I said. At least not yet.

I leaned into his crotch. He smelled fresh, clean. Not of sugar cookies, but of something more masculine. I reached out, but he stopped me.

"No," he said. "Find it with your face."

I stuck my face out farther until I felt the spongy head of his cock against my nose. I opened my mouth and closed my lips around the head, swirling my tongue around it.

"Good girl," he said. "Keep going."

I took more of him into my mouth, angling my face and neck to accommodate. I sucked harder, putting my whole face into it, until he pulled his cock out.

"Huh?" I asked, confused.

He slapped his wet cock against my face. "You weren't doing anything wrong. I just like doing this." He slapped the other cheek, leaving wetness on my face.

I could feel myself getting tingly. It was kind of hot to be blowing someone this way, degraded, feeling like a common whore. When he nudged my mouth with his cock, I opened up enthusiastically, licking and sucking.

I heard him moan and sigh softly, and a perverse part of me was excited by the fact that I was pleasing him.

"You're doing great, Belle," he said, "but I need to take charge now." And with that he started fucking my face, hard. I cried out, choking, gagging on his cock, but he didn't let up.

I could hardly breathe. But then he pulled out, making a popping sound as his cock shot past my lips, and I felt his hand grab my hair and pull my head down lower. A moment later, I felt his hot, wet cum dribbling down my forehead and onto my nose and cheeks.

"You were a good girl, Belle. You've earned your lunch."

"Would you like me to get cleaned up first?" I asked meekly, knowing that I looked a wreck.

"You look perfect just the way you are," he said, laughing evilly. "Wait—you have a drip on your lips. Lick it up for me."

I licked my lips. It was only a little bit, but it was salty, still slightly warm.

He helped me up off the floor. "Now you will sit here and relax while I make our sandwiches," he said, as if he was making lunch for an old friend.

Bewildered, I sat there, feeling his cum dry on my face, blushing because I looked like a stupid slut who'd been used by a guy whose name she didn't even know yet, humiliated from wearing his dominance all over my mortified face.

"If you're a good girl and don't try to stab me with a fork over lunch, I may even let you take the blindfold off tonight," he whispered in my ear.

I shivered. Being able to see again would make everything seem so much more real. The thought both terrified and excited me.

But for now I sat, helpless and filthy, with my stomach growling and a thousand frenzied thoughts running through my brain.