The Whip Or The Vibrator Ch 01

The Whip Or The Vibrator Ch. 1

Introduction:

This story is inspired by and in tribute to some of the women of this site who go in for the edgier and more extreme kinks and fetishes. I hope they appreciate it.

I did something new on this story. For the first time, I wrote it out as an entire novel before posting any chapters. It's done and finished with a beginning, middle and end. I'll be posting chapters every Sunday on Fet, and weekly on Literotica. So there will be no long waits between chapters this time. The subject matter goes to some very dark, extreme, and occasionally disgusting places. You have been warned. Enjoy!

It served me right, being strung up naked like this, in a barn out in the middle of nowhere. That's what you get for putting your brain on hold and letting your cunt lead you across the country. Want the story from the beginning? Of course you do. And even if you don't, I feel like getting it straight in my mind before the "fun" starts.

I spend way too much time hanging out on a website for BDSM enthusiasts, which we will call F*tL**e. My handle there is CapturedCuntForUse. Boy, what a stupid idea that turned out to be. Since I don't use my real name there, I'm not about to start using it here. Just call me CapCunt for short, if you need to call me anything.

I'm a 48-year-old divorcee from the suburbs of Indianapolis. I got married in my 20's like an idiot, raised some kids and watched the light go out of my husband's dick, as I put on the pounds post-pregnancy. Ok, you know what? It wasn't all his fault. The real problem is that I'd had these urges, all my life. Edgy, extreme urges. When we fucked, my mind went somewhere else, somewhere dark. I wanted to be whipped, and punished, and tied up, or handcuffed, or whatever. I most certainly wanted to be told what to do. My husband just wasn't the man for that sort of thing. Believe me, I'd tried to open things up with some conversations, but he wasn't having any of it. Even the very idea of anal freaked him the fuck out. Uh uh, no way. It was missionary and a little cock sucking and that was it. How's a dirty girl supposed to cum from just that? I started masturbating on days I could get them all out of the house on weekends. Pretty soon this became an obsession. I would invent all sorts of activities for my husband and my kids to get up to. When it got really out of hand in my late 30's, I was lying about out of town trips to visit girlfriends, and just holing up in a motel to rub out the weekend.

And over years of this behavior, my fantasies just became darker and darker. Discovering F*tL**e didn't help. Ever been on there? Ever wandered through the groups? The regular erotic fiction groups were just great...for a while. But like any addiction, I started needing stronger and stronger fixes. During the last tepid years of our marriage, while my husband was devoting himself to the golf course or his fantasy football league, I was zooming through groups like Darker Side of Erotica, anything with Consensual Nonconsent or abduction in the title, and...Graphic Rape Stories. Yep, that's where my brain and my cunt led me.

I didn't have any affairs. I probably should have. My husband never did either, which mystifies me to this day. As my addiction to masturbation increased, my sense of duty in the bedroom decreased. By the time we finally called it a day out of mutual dis-interest, we hadn't even seen each other naked in at least five years. Oh well.

Once I was free and on my own, I was really free. My daughters were out of the house by then. It was time to start reaching out to some gentlemen, but...nothing seemed to click. I wondered if it was them or me. Most men I met online seemed like bots, or just straight up dicks. I was too uptight to venture out to any munches. I still had to live and work in this town, so I sure as hell didn't want to be outed, or out myself. The only guys I seemed to have any rapport with were in other states.

But finally, something really started to click. I'd had this hot-and-heavy messaging thing going with "Duke101" for quite some time. I know, stupid name, just like CapCunt. For almost nine months, we'd gone from joking around a bit to sharing all sorts of, uh, fantasies and what-not. He'd been proud and out for quite some time in California. He'd done stuff. Serious stuff. The stuff I'd never even dreamed actually happened in real life. Finally, we started taking things to other levels, and he gave me a proposition. All I had to do was fly out to San Francisco for a week, and he'd make all my fantasies come true. What could possibly go wrong, right?

Yep, all sorts of red flags here. He didn't want to Zoom. He didn't want to start with things like phone sex, didn't even want to exchange pictures. But he would pay for the entire week: airfare, hotel, meals, everything. And here's where the most insidious part occurred: after he made his offer, he stopped talking about it. He wasn't going to badger me, he said. He just wanted me to know that the offer would always be there for me.

Christ, what a thing to do! Of course it was all I could think about from then on. I masturbated night and day imagining what we could get up to in San Francisco, and it sure didn't involve the Golden Gate Bridge. Well, maybe we could fit that in somehow as well. Finally, after holding out for two long months, I gave him a week of availability and told him to send me a ticket.

So he did.

It arrived the next day at my office. A two-way flight in and out of SFO. Boy, he'd called my bluff all right.

He didn't hear from me during those two weeks before the flight. He'd said that would be fine. He'd be there at SFO that day, and if I was there, I was there. If not, it just wasn't meant to be.

I know I got some sleep sometime during those two weeks, but it sure didn't feel like it. I kept going over the pros and cons and possibilities of what could go wrong, and then on the night before my flight, finally said fuck it. I called my eldest daughter, and shocked the hell out of her with the news that I was flying cross-country for my first date since my divorce. The deal was to check in daily at noon sharp, or she'd get the fuzz on the case. I know, I was really covering my bases here, wasn't I?

So after a long-ass flight over half the country, I walked off the plane, up the ramp, and into the terminal. I saw a long line of relatives and limo drivers waiting for passengers. One fellow was probably in his early 40's, bald, with dark, close-cropped hair around the sides, and prescription glasses with darkened lens. He wore a casual button-down shirt and dark slacks. As I got closer, I saw that he was fairly fit. He must have been looking for the 48-yr-old lady with short dyed-blonde hair, a few extra pounds (only a few!), mom-jeans, sneakers and a faded pastel violet blouse. He looked my way; I guess making eye contact with me, looked to his sides, and quickly flipped his sign up and back down. It said, and I kid you not, "CapCunt". I flushed, looked around nervously, and headed right to him. Thankfully, no one seemed to have noticed it.

We confirmed that we were indeed Duke101 & CapCunt, and exchanged fairly bizarre pleasantries. For some reason we'd agreed to only use our F*t names. I know, again, no red flags here! Duke took over my lone carry-on and led me to the terminal coffee shop, where he sat me down, ordered too lattes, and joined me. I sure didn't need the latte, but that was the least of my concerns at the moment.

We had a short, frank discussion over our latte's. The first thing he asked me was whether I wanted him to fuck me. It felt like it took an hour for me to catch my breath to be able to squeeze it out, but I finally nodded yes. I couldn't even say it. Duke told me that if this was too much for me, and I was having a change of heart, there was a flight leaving back home in an hour, and he'd put me on it.

Damn it. I didn't throw all sense of reason out the window and fly out here for nothing. I leaned in as close as I could, and told him very, very quietly, that even though I was more nervous than I'd ever been in my life, I wanted to go through with the things we'd talked about.

Duke just smiled. Then he reached down to pull a file of papers out of a backpack, and hand them across to me. It was our contract, along with his STI results, with his name blacked out. I reached over to my carry-on to hand him mine, also with my name blacked out, as requested.

I flashed back to his profile on that F*t site. His photo gallery consisted solely of contracts. Contracts with women he'd had "arrangements" with, women with names like Captured Cunt for Use. There were a lot of them. Looking back, I still wonder if I should have seen this as a red flag or an inducement to trust.

There were all sorts of activities listed on the contract he laid out before me. It was like a phonebook of fetishes. But at the top were those words: consensual nonconsent. Yep, that's where we were going all right. Only I had to formally agree to it at first.

Don't sign it! Don't sign it! That's what you're saying, right? Don't be an idiot. Of course I signed it. There's no story otherwise.

As soon as I signed the contract, Duke stood up, deposited our barely-touched latte's in the trash, and picked up his backpack and my carry-on, and beckoned me up. Duke led me through the terminal, across the road, and up through the impossibly huge and cavernous parking garage. We didn't talk much. Actually, we didn't talk at all. Maybe I should have seen this as the ultimate red flag, but at the time I was too nervous to make much conversation.

We finally got to...his van. I know, this just gets better and better. A plain blue Dodge Sprinter, the model without the side windows for the back. I was about to say something when I heard a distinctly feminine voice say...

"Hello, Captured_Cunt_for_Use."

I whipped around to see a woman in her early forties with short, wavy reddish-brown hair wearing jeans and a denim button-down shirt come from the other side of the van. Wait, what the fuck was this!?! And in her hand was a Taser. I know because she told me.

"Ever been tazed before? Believe me, it's not something you want to experience.

With my back to Duke, he reached round to grab me. He covered my mouth with one hand while holding me against him with his other. I started to struggle, instinctually. Then the woman, whom I'll call Sado-Chick since I never heard her referred to by any sort of name, leaned in close and held the Taser to my neck.

"So here's the deal: You crawl into the back of that van like a good little girl, or we lift your limp, twitching body in there after using this thing. Either way, you go in."

Duke had a good grip on me, and this Sado-Chick looked like potentially rough stuff, like she worked outside a lot. Her body was toned that way. She had a voice that went along with it. There was a husky, unrefined, mountain roughness to it, which made me feel like she was capable of anything. I had the body of a suburban office worker who only hit the gym on weekends, when I felt like it. I wasn't even a match for one of them, let alone both. I stopped struggling, and went practically limp. Sado-Chick smiled, lowered the Taser, and opened the back doors. All I saw in there was a plain mattress covering the van-bed. At least it looked relatively clean. I was escorted in, and made to lie down on my stomach as the doors were closed. There were two black leather collars chained to the floor at the other end just past the mattress, where my head lay. I was in front of the collar to the left. This is where the fun began...for them.

With Sado-Chick kneeling by my head with the Taser, Duke got to work. He stripped me. That's right, he methodically removed all of my clothes, while I just lay there, looking at that Taser being casually flicked just inches from my face.

"You just keep nice and quiet like that. You're doing fine", Sado-Chick said.

Finally, my clothes were off. There I was, a middle-aged mom from Indiana lying face down in the nude on a mattress in the back of a van. I was both shaking and sweating in that cool coastal San Francisco air, which I'd never experienced before.

"Don't worry, it's a little warmer where we're going."

I didn't have any time to wonder about that revelation, when Duke moved on to the next step. Duke straddled over my legs and pulled my wrists together. Leather cuffs where fitted over my wrists, and chained together. I couldn't help it. Even though I was going out of my mind with fear, I suddenly started getting wet down there. Leather cuffs. This was my very first bondage experience. My first brush with the wide world of BDSM. I was turned on, despite my circumstances. My body was definitely betraying me, as it had been for years.

I saw Sado-Chick look up and smile. She was smiling back at Duke, who'd obviously smiled at her first. He'd noticed the moisture forming down at my cunt. They knew exactly what was going on with me.

Next were the ankle cuffs, also chained together. Then I felt them being attached to the floor of the van. Now that I was safely bound, Sado-Chick put down the Taser, reached around the front, and brought out this hideous looking black penis gag. Oh my God, no way that was going to fit in my mouth!

Sado-Chick lifted my head by the hair and gently pushed the silicone penis against my lips. I couldn't help it. I knew that thing was going in one way or the other, so I surrendered to the circumstances, and opened my mouth, just a bit. Sado-Chick gently shoved the penis gag in, until it was in all the way. I could feel it at the back of my throat. I hoped I wasn't going to gag on the thing. Then Sado-Chick put my face down on the mattress so she could pull the straps tight and fasten the gag around my head. Then she lifted my head by the hair again to guide one of the collars around my neck. I was now stripped, fully immobilized, and chained to the van by my neck and ankles. Sado-Chick tilted my head to look me in the eye.

"There. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

I heard the sound of clothes rustling in back of me. Turns out my clothes were being stuffed into a bag.

"Duke there is going to deposit your clothes and things into a storage locker in the airport. You won't need anything where you're going. And they'll be here waiting for you. Now, we have another little something to take care of, so you just sit tight for a while. But no thrashing about to get attention. I'm monitoring you, and if I hear something I don't like, I'll be back in a flash to taze the living shit out of you, and who knows if you'd be in any shape to make a return flight after that? We understand each other?"

She had me. I couldn't see any way out of this hell. I nodded meekly in agreement. Sado-Chick smiled, and gently lay my face back down on the mattress. I then heard the both of them leave. I kept listening, and heard at least one of them walk away back down the parking lot. Maybe both of them. I couldn't be sure.

Oh God, how much time passed? There was no way to be sure. It felt like at least an hour, maybe even two. The emotions raged inside me. Fear at my predicament, sheer paralyzing fear like I'd never felt before. Also anger, and disgust at myself, for putting myself into this situation. They say the victim should never blame herself for something like this, but come on, I wouldn't be here if I hadn't put so much effort into it. The other feeling, which was just as strong as the fear and the anger and the disgust was...

...Arousal. I was aroused, no two ways about it. Just plain horny. Maybe hornier than I'd ever been in my life. God, I wanted to rub one out so bad. If I could only get my hands free. I even tried to rub my body against the mattress, but no luck. There was nothing to give me any friction down there. And then of course, as I got turned on, I felt shame. Deep, deep, deep shame. I broke out in tears a few times from the shame of getting aroused in a situation like this. My body would be hot with the feelings of being turned on so much and then feeling ashamed. Then I'd cry it all out, and my body would be spent, and I'd start getting cold. As I shivered, the fear came back in force. Then the anger, and disgust, and then I'd start feeling aroused all over again. I don't know how many times the cycle repeated itself. I was just in the middle of being aroused again, frantically trying to rub my cunt on the mattress for the umpteenth time, when I heard footsteps!

I'd been hearing cars in the distance, but no one coming close to me. But these footsteps came right up to the van and stopped. Then I heard a few more footsteps, like someone coming from around the van, the sound of someone being surprised, and then an almost word-for-word recreation of Sado-Chick's first Taser speech..

"Hello, Kitten_Oh_So_Curious_5. Ever been tazed before...?"

Kitten_Oh_So_Curious_5. Damn. Another F*tL**e name all right. Kit-5.

Not a minute later, I heard the back doors opening, and felt the rush of air. I tried to strain my head to look back, but couldn't quite do it with this collar. I felt the weight of someone else on the mattress to my right, and then there she was, right beside me. She was young, looked like her mid 20's, same age as my eldest daughter. Brown curly hair, like ringlets, cut just above her shoulders. I guessed she was a little heavier than me by her face, which had a pleasing roundness to it. She looked scared, bewildered, like there were competing emotions fighting inside her while she struggled to make sense of the rush of the moment. Just like me.

Kit-5 looked like a college student, just about to graduate and start out on the real journey of life. She sure didn't look like the type for this, but then neither did I, did I? Do any of us look like who we really are on the inside?

The pattern played out just the same as it did for me, and there was definitely a pattern to it. Kit-5 was stripped, cuffed, gagged, and collared. She didn't struggle, with Sado-Chick holding the Taser in front of her. She had also elected to climb into the van instead of being tazed and carried in. Did anyone ever need to be tazed? Everything seemed to go like clockwork, as if Duke and Sado-Chick had been doing this for years. So we couldn't be the first two. How many?

Duke left with the Girl's clothes and things, leaving us three women alone. Sado-Chick just sat there in the passenger seat, turned back to face us, lazily flicking the Taser in her hand. She had no interest in conversation, and barely looked at us. All I could see was the back of Kit-5's head now, the mass of wavy ringlets, and the heavy leather collar poking out from them. I could feel her body too, scrunched up against mine. She was going through a similar range of emotions as me. I could feel it. Maybe not exactly like me, since Kit-5 didn't have the curse of solitude that I'd had to deal with. But I could feel the temperature of her body going up and down as she'd shake with fear and then have to fight off the arousal. This was a fantasy of hers, just like mine.

The doors opened. I felt Duke climbing in, scrambling over us, and leaning over to hand a locker key to Sado-Chick. Then I felt and heard some rustling back there, like a belt being unbuckled, pants being shoved down. Sado-Chick spoke.

"We have quite the drive ahead of ourselves, girls, and Duke here needs to be nice and relaxed for the journey. We don't want him preoccupied behind the wheel, do we?"

Then she looked up at Duke.

"Which one?"

I guess Duke pointed to one of us

"Oh good", Sado-Chick said. "I was hoping you'd choose her. Here..."

She handed him a plastic bottle of something, then picked up her phone and pointed it down at us. Was she filming?