**This was originally a bondage story, but I realized that I don't know anything about BDSM, so I retooled it as a non-consent story. The original version is called "Stealing Emma" and is in the BDSM category. Enjoy!**
I had gotten pretty good at sneaking, always tiptoeing around my roommate and his ridiculous sleeping schedule. By this time, junior year, I had become a pro. It also helped that it was the weekend of the Gran Prix, the yearly go kart race, and a heavy drinking weekend. By 5am, almost everyone had taken the courtesy of knocking themselves out. Getting into the girls' dorm had scared me though. As much as the odds were in my favor, I was totally exposed while picking the outdated lock with a credit card. But, I had practiced breaking into a guys' dorm, which would have been a lot easier to explain.
Anyway, I got through OK, and now I was carefully walking down the deserted hall towards room 211. Emma's room. She never locked her door; she had told me how the girls on her floor felt so close and trusted each other. The hallway was deathly quiet at 3am, and eerily dark, with only a dim light every five yards or so. I pondered at all the circumstances and luck that had gotten me through this far. But still I was nervous, not cocky. Maybe the only thing driving me forward was the deep carnal need I had for this girl.
Her door was mercifully quiet as I eased it open and slipped in. By the dim light of a desk lamp, I saw her roommate in bed, with her back to the room and curled up with the wastebasket. That was a good sign, for me at least. Emma hadn't made it to bed, and I found her sprawled out on their futon. Her short red hair was beautiful, despite the night it had been through. Apparently, she had enough energy when she had gotten home to take off her underwear, and then I imagine her dress had to work as pajamas when she passed out. It was a cocktail-like dress, and it wasn't covering anything at the moment. The sight was tempting. Part of me wanted to take her right there, ravish her and damn the consequences. But another part of me had a plan.
I gently adjusted her dress and made it decent, at least by college standards. Emma didn't respond at all until I scooped her up. At this, she stirred and squirmed in my arms, although she didn't open her eyes or speak more than an incoherent whine. I panicked slightly, but really the situation wasn't serious. She simply needed to be less conscious. I spoke to her in a calming voice as I set her back down. I pulled Plan B out of my pocket.
Being an undergraduate TA had given me access to diethyl ether, which was used as anesthesia a long time ago. But that's another story. Suffice to say I had thought this out beforehand, two months beforehand. I produced a rag and soaked it in ether, which I slapped over her face. By reflex, she tried to escape the reeking, suffocating rag. But I held her head fast, and she inhaled a good deal of vapor in the process of her struggle. Then she went to sleep. I counted One, Two, Three, and pulled it away. No need to kill her. I looked up, and her roommate was still catatonic. How cooperative of her, I thought. Now I picked Emma up again, collected the kidnapping evidence, and closed the door behind me.
She was slight and on the short side, 5'2" and maybe 110 pounds. That was good because I had to carry her across campus. I kept a sharp, paranoid eye out, but the streets were deserted. Once I got a block away from the dorm, I breathed easier. Now, no one would be able to tell if I was stealing a girl from one dorm or simply taking her to another. Hell, a passerby would probably think I was a Good Samaritan. And on top of that, on a college campus this was just another Saturday night. I mentally remarked on my luck again as I carried this comatose girl down the street for anyone to see.
Shortly, we arrived at Wendell Hall, the chemistry building. And of course, the academic part of campus was deserted at this hour. With the chance of being seen dropping close to zero, I threw Emma over my shoulder into a more practical fireman's carry. She hung over me limp as a rag doll. With my handy TA keys, I unlocked the door, stepped inside, and locked it back. With poor Emma still hanging over my shoulder, I descended into the basement, and quietly walked past several empty classrooms, a janitor's closet, lab storage, the boiler room, and finally arrived at the fallout shelter. For more than fifty years, no one had taken interest in this quaint Cold War relic, except for yours truly. I opened the door -- don't ask me why this was included in the keys that a lackey TA needs -- and locked us inside.
Once again, my luck was impeccable. Back in 1955 when Wendell was built, everyone was expecting to be hunkering down in here any day with Soviet bombs falling on their heads. Now it was just a curiosity, or a crucial asset in my case.
I dropped Emma into a heavy wooden chair in the middle of the room. She moaned and rolled her head, trying to get her bearings. I quickly went over to the table where I had spread out my materials and grabbed zip ties. Did I mention that I thought this out beforehand? I tied Emma's legs to the chair legs, which spread them and left her very exposed. After imposing some serious self-control, I zip tied her wrists together, and then to the back of the chair. She opened her eyes and smiled at me, still drunk with alcohol and ether. I went back to the table and returned with a ball gag. She gave it a quizzical look. With morbid humor, I said "Aaaaahhhhh," like I was a dentist, and she got the message. She opened her mouth and I cinched the strap behind her head.
She was still in a serious daze, not comprehending anything. I needed her sober for what I had in mind for her, so I retreated into the cupboard while she slept it off. It was like a walk in closet, full of petrified foodstuffs for the would-be apocalypse. I set a timer for 2 hours and spread out to do some homework, believe it or not. I was getting serious blue balls, but my rational side prevailed. A wide grin formed on my face when the timer went off.
I stepped out and regarded Emma. She was beginning to catch up with events, and there was a sheen of sweat on her soft pale skin. Her expression was fearful, arousingly fearful, and her pretty green eyes widened when she saw me. I noticed her petite A cups, hardly making a ripple in the sensuous fabric of her dress. They were perfect little mounds, and looked just right on her small frame. And I bet they would fit perfectly into the palms of my hands.
I walked up, betraying no emotions, and sat in a chair across from her. She was quivering, I loved it. I put on a soft smile and said, "Hi Emma." She began to cry. I spoke in a cajoling tone, absolutely relishing the moment. "Emma, Emma, there's no need to worry. So long as you do what I say while you're here, everything will be fine" Another wave of panic hit her, and she almost fell out of the chair. I paused, then went on in the same voice, "You will find I am quite fair. All you must do is obey me and do what I ask of you. Your choices will determine what happens to you. If you are obedient, this will be much easier for you." I leaned forward and gently brushed the tip of my nose against hers, whispering, "but above all else, I will have my way."
At this point, it was time to begin, so my tone hardened. "Stop crying," I barked. She stifled her sobs, and I went on. "This is about obedience and reward, and since I like you, we're going to start with reward." I moved behind her, but something made me pause for a brief, cruel moment.
I really did like her. We had met in class right at the beginning of freshman year. We were both nerds, and we had a great time studying, making fun of our profs during lecture, and the like. I always thought she was hot as hell, and I gave myself enough credit to realize she was in my league too. We would have been a perfect pair. But she had a peon boyfriend. He had been hanging around since the end of high school, and anyone could see they weren't a good fit, for a million reasons. It was a one way relationship. She knew everything about him, Trent was the fucker's name, and constantly tried to please him. Meanwhile, he focused on smoking pot and dabbling with other girls. It killed me to see it going on day after day
Still, she had a fierce devotion to him that was a total mystery. But after two months of set up, this was my time. I didn't care if my method was twisted or immoral, and after so much ethical dilemma, the lines were blurred and I couldn't even tell anymore. I didn't know if I was a rapist; I definitely toed the line. But over everything, I held on to that singular purpose; I was going to claim this girl, and save her from her bleak reality. I was going to make her see the truth and see that it should be us together.
I snapped out of my reverie, feeling the drive to do this. I reached around her and gently pressed my fingers into her slit. She was wet, and I became hard instantly. She bore down on my fingers with her pelvis ever so slightly, betraying herself. "See?" I cooed, "We're going to have a good time." She began sobbing again, but she never tried to draw away from my touch. I explored her with excruciating slowness, ever so gradually running up and down between her lips, and coming to focus on her clit. I circled it, feeling it swell. Now she began to buck gently, arching her back. Soon she was panting, writhing against the restraints and grinding against my hand. Her breasts heaved with the approaching climax. "Not so fast, dear Emma." I pulled my hand away. She gave a confused moan and slumped back into the chair, her pelvis still flexing, looking for friction
I imagine a lot of conflicting guilt and fear and lust was working in her mind right now. I didn't help that I, honestly, am an attractive guy, athletic, muscular, and pretty well-endowed as she would find out. Plus, I was a charmer. All our friends, and both of us, could see that we were made for each other. But there was this bizarre, deep connection with her douchebag boyfriend. But regardless of what was going on in her psyche, I continued.
"Now comes the obedience, don't disappoint me Emma." I cut her legs free, and cut her wrist binding from the chair, taking care to keep the knife out of her sight. And as soon as she was free, she ran for the door, hands bound, ball gag and all.
Feeling completely in control, I ran after her and shoved her violently into the door before she could reach it herself. She crumpled to the ground, a total mess of sobs and whimpers. Which kind of got me excited.
