Passing by my office this morning?
Really?
I wonder how observant the people in the offices around here really are?
If, as you're walking past my offices, caped and masked assailant were to leap on you from the side of the street where he had been skulking, unnoticed by you and quickly throw a sack over your head, and pin your hands behind your back, would they notice? Would they stand and watch as he quickly and expertly tied your hands behind your back with a cable tie he had already prepared? Would they sip their lattes and cappuccinos and fail to notice your assailant throwing your prone body over his shoulder, leaving your briefcase where it had fallen, the contents spilling across the pavement?
Would they notice the malevolent glint in his eye?
Would they pay any heed to your struggles to get free, the kicking of your body as the terror set in, the realisation that you were being abducted, the fear as to what would happen to you, the feeling of being completely defenceless as he makes off up the street, carrying you effortlessly and barely breaking perspiration?
I wonder, knowing you, when your pussy would start to dampen? I wonder when the sense of being powerless and at his mercy would start to turn you on? Would it be when, in the darkness of the hood, you hear doors open, and locks click closed? Would it be when he throws you down on a soft surface, probably a bed, moves your tied hands over your head and ties them to something round and cold and metallic attached to the wall? Would it be when you realise you're in a cage, created by him to control and dominate you?
Or would it be as he starts to remove your clothes, not gently, not roughly, but firmly and with purpose, a purpose that books no interference, no refusal, no opposition, no chance of demurring or refusing?
Would it be when you are lying there wearing only the cloth hood and your underwear, as he takes each of your ankles and secures them to the two corners of the bed? Would it be when you feel the cold steel of a blade caressing the inside of your thigh, making you involuntarily flinch as it moves up to your groin? Would a small moan escape your lips as he expertly slices yours underwear from side to side, easing the shredded fabric from your pussy?
Would it be when you are completely naked before him, tied so you cannot move, wearing only a hood and restraints, the cool air gently fanning your pussy?
Would it be when he suddenly stands up, all you can hear are noises of him disrobing, clothes being flung across the room?