Quciies

Trial Run

She was a tinkerer. She liked to make things. She loved to make little gadgets just to amuse herself. Her favorite thing to make was gear for her hobby: BDSM. She was always coming up with new bondage gear to make the experience even more enjoyable. Sometimes inspiration would hit her in the strangest places.

She was shopping at Walmart during back to school season. Strolling down the aisle she came across an amusing little device called a slap ruler. It was a brightly colored silicone ruler with a flexible steel core that wrapped itself around your arm becoming a bracelet. Now there was an idea.

It was a couple of days before she had a working prototype ready. Now all she needed was a guinea pig to test it on. The bar down the road was always a good place to pick up a lonely man for a night of bondage fun. Though to be honest she was starting to find the quality lacking. The barflies there that night were no great shakes. She was ready to call it a night when he walked in.

He was a clean cut boy in his early twenties. His clothes were nice and his hands soft. The look in his eyes said he'd rather not be here. There was something about his innocence that drew her to him. She sauntered over and set down next to him at the bar.

"Not from around here are you?" she asked playfully.

"No, no, I'm not. I got turned around and ended up in this little town. The bartender's digging out a street map for me."

"Well why you wait do you mind if I show you a little magic trick I've been working on?"

"No, of course not!"

"Good, then put your hands together out in front of you."

"Like this?"

"Perfect, now watch this."

From her purse she produced a slap band a bit bigger and thicker than the one at the store. She raised it and slapped it on his arm. The springs released and the band coiled around his arms penning them together with a loud click.

"Cute."

He tried for a minute to pull his hands back apart. The band would not budge.

"What the hell? How do I get this thing off?"

"We'd have to use the key I made for it."

"Well then use it, please."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"It's back at my place."

"What?"

"You can come home with me and I'll unlock it for you or you can let one of these fine men here help you."

He didn't seem to like that idea.

"Fine, I'll go with you."

"Good, I've got lots of other bondage toys to try on you."

"I'm not agreeing to that."

"Since I have the only key I don't think you have any choice in the matter."

"You will let me go afterwards right?"

"A cute boy like you, who no one knows where you are? Not any time soon."

***

His Sweet Spot

She hadn't meant to kidnap him. It just happened. She had flirted with him everyday when he dropped off her mail. That's all it was: playful flirting. She had been stroking the side of his face when it happened. She was just playing like they always did and he was into it. Then her hand slipped onto his neck. He flinched. He always did when she got too close to it. She paid it no mind. Her thumb absentmindedly found its way to a small mole like bump. He shuddered. She wasn't thinking. She didn't do it intentionally. She applied a little pressure. His body shook like he was in the middle of the best orgasm of his life before collapsing limply in her arms.

Panic kicking in she drug him into her home and onto her living room couch. She began fumbling for her phone.

"Don't worry, I'm calling 9-1-1."

"No, don't," he said sitting up.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm fine. I have a little ... genetic abnormality. A bunching of nerves under that spot you found. It over stimulates my body. It doesn't hurt. It's like ... being overwhelmed by pleasure. It leaves me a little weak afterwards but that goes away after a few minutes."

"As long as you're sure."

"I'm sure."

She sat down next to him.

"So what you're saying is you have an orgasm button?"

He laughed at that.

"I wouldn't call it that. It's just more of a ... sweet spot."

"God that must make sex amazing."

"I wouldn't know. I don't tell people about it if I don't have to. It's kind of embarrassing. I mean who wants a guy who becomes helpless with a touch."

A deep burning desire burst forth deep within her she had never felt before. It was like she had lost all control.

"I do."

She grabbed him and shoved her tongue down his throat. While he was distracted she pressed his sweet spot. He shuddered and collapsed onto the couch. While he lay there helpless she yanked down his pants and tossed off her own. Before he could recover she mounted him and rode him with wild abandon. She would speed up and slow down trying to make sure they came together. As she felt him about to explode she pressed his spot again. It was ... transcendent.

They lay there panting. He began to get up and put his pants back on.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"I've got to get back to my rounds before my boss kills me. I'll be back when I'm done."

"You're done."

She pressed again. He collapsed into her arms and she drug him off to her bedroom. Every time he tried to leave she pressed. When she wasn't home she duct tapped a vibrator to his back so the head was on his sweet spot keeping him weak and awaiting her arrival.

No she hadn't meant to kidnap him. But now that she had there was no way in hell she was ever going to let him leave.

***

Special Delivery

India. It was still hard to believe I was really here. When I applied for my college's study abroad program I thought for sure I'd end up in some freezing Eastern European nation. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he would end up anywhere as beautiful as here. I also never thought I'd run out of money while I was here either. So there I was working my way through college as a courier ... in India.

One day I had a delivery on the other side of the very, very crowded city. So I thought I'd take one of my co-worker's advice and try a short cut he'd told me about. That, it turned out, was a mistake. Turns out shortcuts work better when you can read the signs. So I had no idea where the hell I was. Oh wait scratch that. Judging by the large scary men advancing on me with knives I knew exactly where I was: in deep shit.

"Look I don't have much money, just take it."

"Don't worry, we will," the lead thug spat, "and the box."

"It's not mine. I'm just a delivery boy."

"Too bad for you then."

I ran. Stupid, I know, but I wasn't thinking too hard at that point. I wasn't running too fast either. They were soon beating the hell out of me. The only thing that saved me? The chase had taken me onto a pedestrian bridge. I fell over into the river below.

I have no idea what happened next. Probably never will. All I do know is I woke up ... somewhere. Where the hell was I? I was in someone's house. That much I knew. I was in a bed. OK, this boded well. Then I noticed something strange about my feet. They were bare, bound together and tethered to the bottom of the bed.

"What the hell?"

Then my groggy mind took in the whole situation. My hands were bound together above my head and tethered to the headboard. All of my clothes had been removed and I had apparently been cleaned up. But by who? Well that question was soon answered. A gorgeous young Indian maiden waltzed into the room. Just a little over 5 foot her lean tight little body glistened under the beautiful fabrics she adorned herself with. Long strait black hair framed a face that appeared to have been chiseled by a master artist.

"Oh good my new man is up."

"Who are you?"

"Queen Zoya."

"Queen?"

"Yes, you're queen my silly little man."

"How did I get here?"

"I found you in the river."

"Where are my clothes?"

"They were wet. I threw them away."

"Why am I tied up?"

"So you can't leave."

She said this like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Why wouldn't you want me to leave?"

Maybe it was the fall but none of this was making sense to me.

"Because you're mine now. I've prayed for years for a man to own. Then I found you. So I'm keeping you."

"You can't keep me. I have a job, a life."

"I am your life now."

"OK enough of this. Untie me now or ..."

I was cut off when she grabbed my head and began to ravish my mouth with her own. She tossed off her clothes and mounted me. Now I've made love with a woman before but I've never had a woman make love to me before. It was like a coiled spring had just been released. She soon had herself wrapped all around me screwing me with a passion I never thought possible. It was like she was trying to consume me with her body and was succeeding.

"I don't know why you would ever want to go back," she told me in-between mini-orgasms, "it's clear they don't care about you like I do."

"What do you mean?"

"Look."

She pointed to the floor. The box I was delivering lay there open. Baggies of drugs were clearly visible. That son of a bitch. It hadn't been a shortcut. It had been a set up. Some kind of drug deal gone wrong or something. Well screw them. He didn't need that job that bad. Zoya began her assault anew. Let Zoya keep him for a while that'll show them. Who knows, maybe having a queen would be a good thing after all.

***

One Hell of a Ride

It started as a thought. A strange little thought. Of course as a Tinkerer all her thoughts were strange little thoughts. They hadn't steered her wrong yet. This one came from watching two people get off a roller coaster at the state fair.

"Let's go on the tilt-o-whirl," the boy said.

"I wanna play a game," the girl countered.

"We could ride that roller coaster again."

"No, we'll do tilt-o-whirl."

It was innocent. The thoughts it caused were not. Could you break someone's will with a ride? Could you use it to induce Stockholm syndrome with one? She had to find out.

It took time to design it out. It took time to find all the materials. It took a lot longer to build it. More than a year later it was ready for a trial run. She put an ad on Craig's List to find a test pilot. She was specific in her request: man in good shape 18 to 35. She hadn't requested cute but she got it. He was a brown eyed barely legal boy whose wide eyed innocence she would enjoy destroying.

"As I said in the ad," she told him. "I'm starting my own ride design firm and need someone to test out my first creation."

That was a lie ... except for the last part.

"I'm ready to go when you are."

"Excellent."

She drove him out into the patch of woods where her trap was set. It looked like a roller coaster but it was so much more. The only car was circular like a tea cup. She latched him in and fired it up. The cup began to spin slowly, then sped up. Then it really began to spin. Way too fast the boy thought, it was pinning him back in his seat like a centrifuge. Then the linear induction kicked in and the spinning car went flying down the track up a hill, spinning, looping, corkscrewing, all while spinning at that same manic speed. There were drops and tunnels and God only knew what else. He saw the station coming up. Thank God. Just as it entered a second pulse sent it back into the fray for a second trip. This bitch was trying to kill him!

The ride continued like this for five loops before stopping. It unlatched but he was too weak to stand. Finally he did. Suddenly a door in the floor opened and he fell down a dark chute into a strange dark sensation-less void. He couldn't process it but he had fallen into a sensory deprivation tank. The Tinkerer left for lunch. A few hours later she helped him out. He was shaking and confused. She helped him up the stairs and into a seat.

"Thank you." he breathed.

A lap bar locked down.

"No," was all he said before the car started spinning.

Another five laps later he came to a rest crying. The lap bar released. He tried to stand. The door in the floor opened again. She went to dinner. When she let him out this time he was like a frightened animal trying to fight his way to freedom. She expected this giving him a mild sedative injection which slowed him down enough for her to get back up stairs and on the ride. He was openly crying when he was sent off for the third pass. When she pulled him out of the tank he was quiet, docile, submissive. He was ready.

She drove him home. She changed him into pajamas, fed him a nice dinner, laid down on the couch with him and soothed him as they watched movies all night. She spent the next day catering to his every need. They made love all night. Three weeks passed and he never attempted to leave. He seemed to be in love with her. As he lay curled up next to her in bed she pulled out her journal. "Trial run complete," she wrote, "On to phase two."