Rochelle Gets Her Wish

Warning: This story contains very strong consensual non-consent. There is some mild violence, and scenes that appear very real. Please do not read if this is likely to offend or upset you.

This story was requested by a 19 year old, very pretty blonde girl, role player, and she has had a lot of input to this story as we role played it. For this reason the story flicks between predator and prey in the first person, I have tried to make it clear when this happens.

I really don't like being in the bushes. They are uncomfortable, and bits are sticking in me. In addition, for the first time since I started, I feel like a passer-by might see what I was doing as strange; I just hope the late hour and darkness give me enough cover. I have been watching you for over two weeks, and this is where I need to be if I am to catch you unaware.

This all started well over a year ago. You had just turned 19 and decided to that you wanted to find somebody to explore your consensual non-consent kink with. You set up an anonymous Reddit account and worked the roleplay boards looking for the person whose words could inspire your inner slut and your desire to be taken by force. Your third post had been up 2 days when I saw it and responded. Something caught your eye, as we played out a whole story. We did another and another, your creative mind driving enough situations that we didn't seem to repeat much, and we began to chat more and more. About 6 months ago you asked me to do it for real; I was shocked, and said, "No way."

You have asked about 15 times since then, and I always say, "No," but for about a month, I have been planning to make it real. After following you, cyberstalking you, and making sure everything was ready at home, I am sure this is the right place and time to take you.

I pull my mind back to the present, as it is only a minute or two until you will walk past. My heart is pounding so hard, and I am sweating now; the fear that something will go wrong or I will be seen is almost debilitating. Then I see you approaching and as you draw level I hit the button to open my tailgate. You turn towards it, confused, putting your back to me. I jump out, and I put my hand over your mouth and nose, to pull you in tight to me.

"I have a knife, now cooperate or I will use it," I whisper into your right ear.

You scream into my hand, but it is useless. I hustle you toward my trunk and slap your face hard, then I bundle you in. As you land in the trunk, you are winded. You don't scream for a few moments and I slam it shut. You hear the car door open and close, then the engine starts. You scream, but you doubt anybody will hear, as there was nobody about when you walked along the street. There is pain in your back from being thrown in there and your face stings where I hit it; as we drive, you get bounced about a bit, and you scream more, but you can't tell if anybody outside the car can hear you.

You have no idea if we have driven for 5 minutes or 5 hours, but by the time we stop, you are dazed and in pain. After a moment the trunk opens; you take the opportunity to kick at me as hard as you can, but I side step and grab your leg, pulling you from the trunk.

You fall to the ground and scream out, "Arrrghhh". It is loud; if there is anybody about they must have heard it. Half in pain from the fall and half in the vain hope somebody will hear you, you scream out, "Stop, you are hurting me, Help!" However, before you know it, I am on top of you. A ball gag goes in your mouth, and it is fastened--a little too tight--and it hurts. You punch at me smacking my chest and sides, but I seem to ignore your blows as I put a blindfold on you. It is not perfect and you can see just a little at the bottom. I turn you over roughly and with more force than you expect. Your arms are pulled up behind your back and I bind them there with steel cuffs. Again, it is not comfortable.

Once I feel you are under control, I say, "Listen carefully, Rochelle; you are mine now. I intend to keep you as my slave. You are powerless, and you know it is what you want. You have been begging for months." I pause, letting you fight a little to see it is useless. I continue. "I am going to get you to your feet in a moment and we will walk. Nod if you understand."

"NOOOOO! NOOOOO!" screaming into the ball gag over and over. Struggling to see anything as you fight the cold steel restraints. Tears flow like rivers down your face. I punch you in the back of the head, and then grab your arms pulling them up even further, lifting you slightly off the ground. "Scream all you want; nobody can or will hear you. Now nod to say you understand!"

Hysterically moaning, screaming into the gag, your head throbbing, you dangle, struggling to touch the ground, you try to make some sense of my words, but all you can do is scream, and fight. I start to drag you across the ground, you can see what looks like a farmyard, but what you can see through the bottom of the blindfold is so limited you can't be sure.

"This is going to be very hard on you, Rochelle, if you can't even nod when I ask," I spit.

I drag you through a doorway, onto a very cold stone floor. "You want to nod and agree to walk? You are going downstairs, so I will really hurt if you don't walk." I give you a quick kick in the pussy; it is not hard, but enough of jolt your attention.

You scream into the gag, but after a moment I can see your head nodding. I drag you up onto your feet. I am sure you would run if you were not so dazed from being hit and dragged, or maybe you have worked out it is me. Either way, you seem to comply as I escort you to the steps down to the cellar. I push you in front of me, and put my my arm around your neck I pull you in close, choking you a little.

"Walk carefully, there are stairs about four steps in front of you," I say, as I push you forward. You stumble at the first step but the grip I have around your neck stops you from falling, although you do cough and splutter. You descend the rest of the steps carefully, but probably not as carefully as you want, as I push you to move you faster.

It is noticeably warmer in the cellar, I have increased the heat down here to ensure that you are not cold. I have also made sure everything you need is here. I live alone on this farm, not that it is much of a farm anymore, but even so, I have spent time insulating this cellar for heat and sound, to ensure you can scream away and nobody will ever hear you. I let you go as we get to the bottom of the steps, you stumble a little but manage to move away from me quickly. Too quickly, and bang into the wall face first.

I move to you as you turn, and I slap your head into the wall, "Stone walls all around, you can't get out, and you will hurt yourself if you try." You look dazed from your head bouncing off the wall twice, and then wince at the light as I remove your blindfold.

Rochelle stands breathing heavily, heart racing. Who is this man and how does he know my name? My head is pounding from the hits it has taken. I have fantasised about this, even role-played, but this is far scarier than I expected it to be. For just a moment I wonder if you are 'grabboy1973' (his Reddit handle) then dismiss the thought. He always refused, but you know, so you must have hacked one of us.

I try to relax; it is very warm in here, and bright. I blink more, trying to see. I need to relax to reason with you. 'You can let me go, I won't say anything,' I think to myself, but fail to vocalise it. I take a couple of deep breaths and then look around. There is a very sturdy bed set to one side, but not touching any walls; it is oak or something, and it is obvious that there are many holes and loops to tie things to. Beyond that against the wall is a farmhouse kitchen table--again, solid oak I would guess--and two very heavy-looking wood dining chairs. On the other wall there are three very big cupboards all locked with big padlocks, then the stairs back up where we must have come from? The walls are windowless and are all stone; this is a very secure room.

As you approach me again, I shy away, but you grab me roughly. I see a Stanley knife in your hand and scream again, my heart going wild from the relatively calm state I had got it to. Your hand closes over my mouth, you release the cuffs, and my arms fall to my sides. I lift one to strike at you, and you slap it hard. I yelp, and don't raise it again.

"Stand still," you order, and you start to cut my clothes. First my sweater, then my blouse falls to the ground in ribbons. Then you pull down my jeans, my panties going with them, and I am left with just my bra and socks on. You cut the straps on my bra and unclip it, it falls to the floor, but you leave my socks. I move my hands to cover my pussy and breasts, not wanting you to see, especially my nipples that are so hard right now.

You grab my arm and move me to the middle of the room; I now notice a steel loop bolted to the ground, and a chain. You fasten the leg cuff to my leg; my sock stops the cold metal from touching my leg, but I can feel it is cold. You seem to relax, and move away to sit on the stairs, and look at me. I look at you with hate I can feel in my eyes; I hope you can feel it too. "Welcome to your new home, Rochelle, you will live here and service me as I wish. You will not enjoy it. It will be painful at times, and your body will never be the same again." Your voice is harsh and clinical.

"Please, just let me go. Nobody has to know, I won't say anything," I say, tears streaming down my face again.

You completely ignore me, and say, "I will be back shortly with some food and I think I need a reward for the success of tonight." You walk over and unlock one of the cupboards, then disappear up the stairs far too quickly for me to follow. I do try to follow and discover that the chain stops me with one foot on the bottom step. So, I can't get to the door. Damn! I move over to the bed; it is definitely custom made, and is designed for BDSM. The kitchen table, too, looks like it has been adapted. As I walk past it to the unlocked cupboard, I open it and in there is a television, some books, all on the subjects I study at college, which is a little more unnerving. There is an Xbox and a load of games, but it is clearly not connected to the internet. I walk back to the bed. While I do not feel that comfortable sitting on it, given its design, I pick up the big, thick quilt and wrap it around me. It is too warm for it, really, but I feel less naked.

I approach the door where Rochelle is held. I have a tray with a few meats and cheeses on it; there is bread, oil and balsamic vinegar, nothing too heavy. The tray has water, and a glass of white wine on it, as well. I unlock the door and walk down the steps, carefully, and you are on the bed with the quilt wrapped around you. I am mildly disappointed at that; I want to see your amazing sexy body. What I can see makes me very happy, though. Your long blonde hair, a dirty blonde at the top, flows across the quilt; when you stand it comes to your waist. Your sea-blue eyes watch me as I move towards you; I have only just noticed that through everything, your glasses have managed to stay on your head. I am very pleased at that and internally chastise myself for not remembering to protect them, but it appears to have worked out. Your delicate nose, and soft pink lips hold my focus as you say, "What are you planning to do with me? I will be missed. People will be looking for me already."

I don't respond because you are right. You have two texts already. I set the tray down on the table, and pick up your phone from it. I turned off the cell reception in the car before I drove away and it is now connected to my Wi-Fi, and routed through a VPN, so nobody can trace it. I hold it up to your face and it unlocks.

"Eat," I say, as I start to reply to your texts.

You don't move as I write to your friend that you met a cute boy on the bus, that you have gone for a drink and you will see them tomorrow. Then I tell your mom that you are back home safe, and that she does not need to worry. I plan to post on your socials tomorrow that you feel really ill, that you must have eaten something bad at the bar last night. That should buy 3 or 4 days before anybody really starts looking.

You still have not moved, so I grab the quilt and rip it away from you, throwing it across the room. Then as your arse is not protected, I slap it hard. A whack echoes around the room as you scream out.

"Go eat, then," I snap. You start to move but are slow, I admire your pert 20-year-old butt, silky smooth and round and tight, and before you move far I land another very hard slap on the other cheek. You yelp, and almost run to the table. You quickly take a seat, not wanting your arse slapped again. I take the seat opposite, and absently stare at your perky C cup tits. Thinking that you are probably the most beautiful girl I have ever met in person, and in reality probably prettier, than the photos of celebrities that are airbrushed. Then I recall that I was supposed to be talking to you.

"Rochelle, you can refer to me as GB; we both know you are actually loving this..."

You interrupt with, "I fucking am not!" I look at you, the annoyance showing in my face, making a mental note that you will be punished for interrupting. I continue.

"As I said, you love this. You have been talking to men for months about being abducted and being forced to have non-consensual sex--not just non-consensual, but you wanted it to be violent, and to be abused." I pause and watch your face as you delicately eat some of the tapas.

I notice that you have not denied it and look a little impassive, clearly just wanting to listen, so I continue. "Over the next few days, weeks, and maybe months, I will make all of that come true, I plan to use every tool I have hear to lightly torture you, and fuck you. I will make your dreams and fantasies into something that you remember, and cherish," I say.

You finish the food you are chewing and look directly at me for a moment, then say, "How, in this situation am I supposed to consent to anything?" There is a challenge in your voice that I am a little surprised by, as you are in such a vulnerable position.

"You already consented; I have your chats saved. You begged to be abducted and forced." I offer.

"So you are Grabboy1973?" Rochelle's voice immediately has a more relaxed sound to it.

"I might be, I might not be. None of your communications were secure," I reply.

"Either way, you have read what I want, and what is unacceptable, so the boundaries to my consent to this non-consent have been established," Rochelle's voice has an air of superiority, which she will have to be punished for.

"Fuck me, you sound like a lawyer," I say, "but within those boundaries you have no say in what happens, when it happens. You can't say you have had enough, or stop it."

A little uncertainty creeps into her voice as she says, "True, there has to be no control for me. But I have never said what specifically is covered by the things I asked for."

"Exactly. So, if I can make a reasonable case that I believed I was within the bounds of your consent, I will get away with it." I say this having no idea if it is true or not; this whole thing would be incredibly difficult to explain to the police, even if I am 100% right.

Rochelle is clearly more relaxed, and she is drinking the wine. I need to change that; she needs to be fearful once more. I look at the tray and she has cleared the food. There is only the glass--well, it is plastic not glass--of water left, and the plastic wine goblet that she is drinking from. I stand up and pick up the water and take it over to a small table and push open the door that is beside it. The door is hidden and unless you know it is there, you would miss it.

"I didn't see that," she says, surprise in her voice. I push it open, showing her a toilet, sink and shower, all of which I know she can reach easily with the chain on.

"Really thought this out, haven't you?" she says. As I walk to one of the cupboards, I unlock it, and take out a few items ensuring that she can't see.

I walk back to the table, the items secured in pockets, and pick up the tray, including the wine glass that she has now emptied. I move it to the floor away from the table, then turn and grab Rochelle's wrist hard, I drag her across the table as she screams.

I pull the cuffs from my pocket and secure her left arm to the table leg halfway down, she is trying to punch me with the other arm, but I grab it easily, and it is secured to the other table leg on that side, the alterations working well to get her in the right position. Before she has a clue what is happening, I have her legs secure to the legs at the other side of the table. She is spreadeagle, her arse nicely vulnerable.

I stand back and observe your prone body. You are not screaming, but you definitely look more concerned. I know you have no idea what I am going to do, so I walk to the cupboard and unlock it. I take out a paddle, a cane, and an electric shocker. This will be your first electricity play, but I have some devices and tools for later in your stay that will really challenge your desire to be tortured. I walk up from behind you, making sure you can't see me or the things I have to use on you. I quietly place the cane and the paddle on the floor, and with a precision that impresses even me, move the shocker towards your exposed pussy, I stop about 2 millimetre from your clit.

You can sense where I am but can't see what I am doing, "What are you doing? Please don't hurt me," Rochelle almost pleads, just as I press the button to activate the shocker. A little blue spark is clearly visible jumping between the shocker and Rochelle's clit. I hold the button for about two seconds, as she roars with pain and fights to move from her bonds. When I stop, her scream of agony dies away quickly, and the only sound is her uneven, heavy breathing. "Bastard," she says, through teeth that are tight and venom-filled, but she has not even finished the word when I press again, this time holding it on, and moving the wand down her pussy, which is actually an upward movement. This time as I stop, she is closer to hyperventilating.

I quietly advise her, "You will learn to stay quiet and accept your punishment."

Rochelle glares at me, but she can't hide the pain from her face. I move the wand up a little more to her arsehole, and press. She jerks, and spasms; she clearly had not expected that, and it appears quite intense. I push the wand into her arse, just a few millimetres, and she cries out, breaking into a sob as I let it go. As she sobs, I say, "You are going to be here for a long while, and you are going to hate all of it. You are going to suffer, and be in pain most of the time."

My arse is on fire as I listen to what he says, I never expected such pain so quickly, if something like this did happen, but deep down I am really pleased with his words; they are what I wanted to hear. Moments later there is a swish sound and then my arse explodes in pain. A strap or something has just crashed into my cheeks, and I can't stop the yelp that I expel. I yelp again as another lands, then another. He is beating my cheeks, and I struggle; the pain is intense. There is no love or delicacy to this. He is beating my arse, making it hurt, making me suffer. I twist and scream; after I lose count of the strikes all I can think is that the shocking was nice.

He pauses. I can feel the glow that is coming off my cheeks, and they must be red, if he hasn't broken the skin. I realise I am crying, and that my body is shaking. I hate this, but it is exactly what I wanted; I hope that tomorrow I appreciate it more than I do right now. He strokes my arse, which is not that nice, given the pain, then forces fingers into my pussy. It is wet, despite everything, and I can't hide how much I wanted this. He is rough and for a moment, I think he I going to force his whole fist in, but he doesn't, and walks away. Through by breathing and almost-under-control sobs I can hear my sigh, at the release.