Forced
2003-09-25

Your captors ignore your pleas. Silently you are tied to a pole with a belt around your neck that somehow tightens when you struggle, leaving you without air for longer periods each time it tightens. A small whirring sound nearby accompanies the belts action. Just as quietly, your mute abductor’s boots clomp away, the sound of their departure fading until, a heavy iron door slams with a disturbing clank. Alone… in absolute quiet, your mind races for a reason for your abduction. Your hands and legs are free but your searching hands can only find the soft belt that holds you fast to the pole. There doesn't seem to be a fastener and soon you give up the search. Time is distorted in this silent tomb. What seems like hours pass silently in the dark cloth hood. Your only sesnory stimulation is the disgusting odor of machine oil, solvents and cleaners. Then… finally… a noise… footsteps. Forgetting the cruel choking strap about your tender neck you cry out and struggle, thinking only of help. Then, hearing the small terrifying whirr, again, you take a deep breath as the belt tightens about your neck. After a few seconds, footsteps come near. "If you fight the belt you will die", a deep, resonant, although soft voice calmly informs you. "Be still if you want to live.

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  " Then, when the air in your lungs is used & your vision is blurring, the belt loosens slowly. Gasping and coughing you fill your lungs, gratefull for the stale air; appreciating for the first time the evil smelling air in this trap you had considered foul a short time ago. Your visitor is standing close. His expensive cologne reaches through to your mind even with the stench of this place. "Who are you", you gasp? "Why don't you help me?" "Why, my dear," he returns with a mirthless chuckle, "I brought you here to this place. “Am I to release you already?" Crying, vexed at his calm uncaring attitude you ask, "What do you want from me?" You feel a hand caressing your face through the sack. "Everything, my dear, you will provide me with much pleasure", a whisper says into your ear. You feel the slightest pressure of a hand cupping your breast through your blouse. You begin to struggle but suddenly remember the horror of being throttled by the belt. Freezing in fear you cry out, "Please, let me go. " …………………Silence. ………. then "Perhaps, will you open your blouse and share your softness", the same whispered voice asks. Rebellious, you say nothing. When there is no answer he says, "there are other means of persuasion.

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  " The steps turn & walk away. "Wait!! Wait, please!!" The metal door clanks shut once more. Chap. 2 Left alone once more with your thoughts… nothing to see inside of the thin cotton sack securely tied about your abused neck but utter darkness, nothing to hear except your own beating heart and ragged breathing. Once in a while there is an odd noise as the small creatures of the night scurry about oblivious and unsympathetic. Exhausted, but full awake, your mind and body abuzz with the wild events just transpired, you begin to wonder about your captor. Who is he? How does he know you? Why you, out of all the women in the city? What can he want? Then you remember ". . . you will provide me with much pleasure. " Oh! God!! What kind of monster is he? What will he do to me? What will I have to do? Realizing that your belted neck is moving up and down the pole with your movement you bend your knees slowly & slide down to sit, catching your weight with your hands behind you, then resting them on your lap. Trying to empty your mind of the scenarios it keeps conjuring up to horrify and excite you, you are unable to keep your mind from picturing the lurid details of sexual servitude you fear the gentle kidnapper has in store and the terror of things much worse. Your tired mind slips into remembrances of your past sexual encounters. Things, at the time, you considered unpleasant experiences: The boy who used his greater strength to force his hand into your bra when parked alone on a country lane when you were in Jr High School. He was 25.

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   (What a little innocent I was, you think to yourself); The man who slapped you for teasing him and left you in another city (he was so dreamy. . . older, intolerant of your teasing, in love with you he said); the date rape you pretended didn't happen because he was a life long friend of your family. There was the man you had unwisely gone with from a bar who forced you to perform fellatio on him in a noisy motel "or else" for what seemed like hours before falling asleep, allowing you to escape. The taste of him was still in your mouth. His athletic muscular torso & beautiful hard cock are still vivid. . . the way he used just enough force to make you keep sucking his cock. . . sometimes just holding it in your mouth. "Look up at me & know I am your master" he would say. .

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  . the exciting sick feeling in your stomach when you felt his cock spasming in your mouth as he came. . . the texture of his cum rolling over your tongue. You have fanticised about it so many times since. . . mmmmmmmm. Your fingers in your lap are not idle during this reverie. Your fingertips are circling an extremely swollen and sensitive clit. Your four fingers separate your pussy lips and drag your moisture up and down, almost entering as they pass your inviting hole. Your mind is cloudy with leftover effects of the alcohol and the unreality of the situation you are in. I will probably be made to suck this man's cock as well. That won't be so bad.

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   Soft moans from deep inside vibrate your throat as your mind sees you performing on your captor so expertly that he loses himself to your oral abilities. He is now so gone that he says he loves you. You see yourself tenderly fondling his balls and engulfing his cock deeper and deeper as you slide his cock in and out of your heavenly wet mouth. You are beautiful and he is lost, helpless, reversing your roles. He begins to scream and cry out until, in your half conscious fantasy, he is leaking, then cumming and grunting while great half solid knots of honey sweet sperm ooze, then plop heavily into your mouth like large hot half-melted marshmallows. "Yes, Baby. Yes yes yes UNGH! YEEESSSSSSSS!! GOD!! SUCK MEEEEE!! UNGAAAAHHH!!! Squealing and vibrating his Ecstasy. . . The noise and your own orgasm bring you up to a more conscious level and you realize it was you that was screaming out in passion and that all was a fantastic sex dream. Nevertheless, you are deep in the throes of arm numbing ecstasy. . . so you plunge your fingers into your delicate little cunt until the seizure and waves of pleasure cease. Exhausted, and now sated and all of your energy spent, you fall asleep.

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  . . not even removing your fingers from your panties. Chap. 3 Waking suddenly from a seemingly short, erotic, dream-filled sleep, there is a shuffling of feet around you. Aware but still sightless you hear familiar sounds of several men making their obscene clucks and hmmmm's of appreciation at what they see. Hotly blushing inside your cloth bag you pull your hand from inside your panties and hurry to tug your skirt down from around your waist to cover your shapely round thighs. Then, the familiar tapping of your captor's dress shoes, different from the other men's heavy work boots, approaches. "How was your night, my most sexy of women? Uncomfortable I would think", he says as if to the room at large. "Have you decided to be a good girl? or maybe you need another cold night in the dark without food or facilities to convince you to cooperate. . . Come come my dear, you must realize that you are completely cut off from help of any kind. Wouldn't you like a hot bath & clean clothes?" The furious response you had in mind at first fades at his mention of a bathroom and a hot bath. You hear yourself answering quietly, "yes, please, I am so dirty, I can't stand it anymore.

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  " "Splendid", he says and to another, "take her to the shower. I will be there in a short while. " Huge and calloused but gentle hands lift you slowly to your feet. You feel the belt at your neck loosen and then peel away from your raw neck. Firm but insistent pressure directs your walk. A small hesitation when an almost silent door opens. You are urged forward into a room that is quiet in a different way. Plush carpet beneath your feet and normal furniture too as your hands contact things in front of you. The cloth bag is drawn from about your neck and you stare about you in the half lit luxurious room. Then you turn to see who has escorted you so gently these last 48 hours or so. A giant of over six and a half feet and huge Musculature towers over your five feet and a half inch. He is wearing a mask. He Intones without emotion, "you must give me your clothes. There will be clean things in there when you are finished", pointing toward a doorway "It is a dressing room. Do not be afraid.

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   No one will harm you. You will be quite comfortable but you must do as you are told. I will bring anything you need. " He turns to go and walks toward the door. Reassured by his kind words you blurt out, "what is your name?" From behind an already closed door, a deep gravely voice rumbles, “I am called Gunthor. ” A tumbler clicks & you are alone once more. A quick once-around-the-place inspection shows a very well appointed, small apartment. The furniture is strangely massive and heavy but is quite beautiful. Peeking through the door into the next room you find a dressing room and bathroom with a shower and a large tub, both done in a very feminine pink. There is every description of cream, cleanser, salve, ointment, makeup, powder, rouge, eyeliner, shadow, etc, as well as all types of comb, brush, curler, pins, clips, burettes and on & on. Opening a strangely adorned wood & metal box you say out loud, "What on earth are these. . . ?. .

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  . . before shutting the lid suddenly, blushing hotly, remembering what circumstances brought you to this place. After relaxing a bit you turn on the water to fill the tub, adjusting it to steam hotly, enticing and irresistible. Unbuttoning your blouse seems such a significant movement considering your kidnappers request of yesterday: ". . . unbutton your blouse… share your softness. . . " that you cannot help but watch yourself in the large mirrors all around you. Your lacy bra peeks out before you peel the dirty blouse over your shoulders. Your breasts jiggle and sway freely atop the half cups of your demi-bra as you move. You silently admire them as you curve your shoulders forward to let your bra slide down your arms. Red tipped and firm they tilt up, the large dark areola shrinking and wrinkling as you watch.

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  . . puckering and pushing your nipples forward. . . extending and hardening your nipples. . . eager, it seems, to be fondled and sucked. You watch, as if at a stranger, when the pretty girl in the mirror hefts her breasts in her palms. She teases and plucks at the nipples, twisting them, pulling them, pinching them harder and harder until you are surprised to hear your own voice gasp. Squeezing and continuing to twist and tease her rosy tipped tits your brazen companion quickly unbelts her skirt and pushes it to the floor with her soiled panties all in one deft motion. With one hand rubbing your mons and the other still rolling your nipples you lose your companion when you step into the tub, easing your clammy body pleasurably into it's deep warmth. Still enjoying the sensations your fingers are stirring inside, you idly wonder if a man feels this warm pleasure when his cock enters a woman. Ummmmmm….

 

   you imagine how it feels to be full of warm ribbed man meat. Completely full, not the little pricks you have had but a real hot cock like the ones on the internet. As your mind takes off, your underwater hand caresses. A large, entirely adequate seven inches (as big as you have ever seen) becomes ten in your minds eye and a handful becomes three inches thick, stretching you until you scream, in pleasure not in pain. Two, then three fingers jam into your cunny as your ass clenches and lifts your pubic hair out of the water. Scooting up onto the seat across the tub you quickly lather your hands and begin to finger-fuck yourself again. The tile around the tub shows people in sexual positions, in acts that you imagine is you and your captor. You realize that the tile tells a story. Several show a girl being abducted. The next shows her bound and helpless. Another shows, "Oh NO!!, a girl tied to a post, a man with a whip standing over her. Instead of the revulsion you think you should feel, the idea of being forced to serve someone excites you as never before. The next tiles show the girl on her knees sucking the biggest cock there could ever be. The next shows her with her knees drawn up to her breasts as that huge cock is stuck up her cunt impossibly far. Others show it up her ass while she fondles the mans balls.

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   You become all those women. Accepting it all as if you love it. You do love it. Grunting animal-like as you finger your own asshole to the knuckle. Harder & deeper you must fuck or suck as you are told. God!! It feels so good!!! "Please?, make me do it!! I'll be good!! I promise!! Fuck me!!" "Yes!! Harder!! Whatever you want!! Yes I'll be your good girl!! YESSSS!! AAHHHHHH!! AGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!! You orgasm repeatedly & cumm harder than ever before, humping & grasping your pussy, mauling it in your fervor, shoving fingers in and out of your body, so slick they slip in and out of ass and cunt with ease. Trembling, occasionally jolted by aftershocks, you eventually relax, sliding back into the now only warm water. Slowly you wash and shampoo. After soaking and resting for a few minutes you stand to turn on the shower and rinse. Stepping out of the shower you realize your dirty clothes are gone. You don't even care when they were taken. Someone must have seen you though, probably your gentle giant, Gunthor. The thought pleases you. Finding a towel, you walk out to see the clothes laid out for you on the bed. There is gauzy, colorful, light material for a blouse, without fasteners, to be tied below the breasts.

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   A bra, that isn't a bra at all but merely to cradle and cup. . . to raise the breasts in order to display their beauty more clearly, as an offering, completely uncovered upper breasts, nipples and areola. A choice of either a tight skirt so short it reaches only just below your plump little ass cheeks or harem pants of the same gauzy material as the blouse, only white and see through, with two snaps at the crotch to allow access to the desired aperture… no panties, nylons or shoes. While drying your hair you consider what the clothes on the bed must mean. Will I really wear these things? Have I turned into a willing whore in two days… for a shower? Sitting at the dressing table you ask yourself if you have really changed that much. Am I going to do this willingly? For a man I have never seen? Do I have a choice? You shrug. . . . Chap. 4 You awaken to the feeling that you are being watched. . .

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   that you are not alone. Slowly stretching to wake tired, sore muscles, you languorously roll over onto your back. When your breasts move, your nipples rub against the thin fabric. Remembering the clothes about you you almost smile. After putting them on earlier, you found they were a perfect fit, that they had been tailored to your body so they clung to your pretty curvaceous breasts, stomach, buttocks and thighs, accenting your already gorgeous body. The sexy layers of semi-transparent fabric seem to rub only your sensitive areas, as comfortable as your own skin but a constant stimulation.

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You are charged with sexual energy, like a goddess from a Greek or Roman bas-relief. Gunthor startles you when his voice weakly states, "you must prepare for the master. He will be here in a few minutes. " Gunthor is without the mask now and his face is startling. Scars cover much of one cheek and the side of his head but his mouth and eyes show sad kindness. "Hurry!! Fix your hair!! Straighten your clothes. " His demeanor shows nothing but his eyes glitter with appreciation as he drinks in your charms with his eyes. His hands shake a bit when he tugs your blousing wrap into a more tidy line and fussily smooths your thin harem pants. "I am sorry", he says, "but you must wear these.

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  " His hands hold a set of handcuffs & a small sleeping mask. "Do not be afraid. Just do as you are told. You will be fine. " His manner instills confidence in you and you allow yourself to be led to a cushioned vaulting horse. You had thought it was there for exercise. Your hands are in front of you and are cuffed to a ring in the floor on the other side of the horse causing you to bend far over, raising your ass prettily. Your feet are inserted into stirrups a few inches off the floor and secured with padded leather straps. This causes your knees to be drawn up and separate. You can see yourself in the mirrors, which covers the walls. You are positioned so your rear is hiked up in the air. To be comfortable you must arch your back. The only motion you are free to make is to shove your ass up & backwards. There is no doubt in your mind for what purpose you are given this small freedom of motion. You know now for sure that you are to be used and are owned by this stranger.

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   When you hear a key turn in the door, Gunthor slips your mask into place. Hearing his feet silently padding away, you also hear the sound of expensive shoes approaching. Your captor whistles with admiration, "Gunthor said you were a picture to behold. He rests a possessive elbow on your butt and cups a perfect cheek, just touching it with his open palm for a few seconds before withdrawing. "How are you feeling?" Thinking it a stupid question and still confused and hostile, you remain quiet. Silence. A swishing whistle through the air, “WHAP!!” a thin wooden paddle strikes your ass cheek where his hand had lain. A few seconds wait and “WHAP WHAP WHAP WHAP WHAP WHAP. ” several thwaking blows land on the same spot beginning to really sting, bringing tears to your eyes. "You son of a bitch!!" you cry out in anger. Several more swats on the cheek. "You must answer when I speak to you. Now answer me respectfully!!" Whack!! Whack!! Whack!! The blows fall slowly but now they sting like a branding iron pressed to your delicate flesh, all on the same ass cheek. Finally, "Yes, OK I will!" you cry out while tears soak the inside of the mask. "You are truly beautiful.

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   Have you been comfortable?" He asks while his hand gently squeezes the abused cheek tenderly then the other cheek is touched just as gently as before. . . Whap!! Whap!! Whap!! Each blow beginning to hurt more and more as the blows fall steadily on the other cheek until a dozen blows have landed. . . searing, stingy, hot. "OK OK, What did I do?" "Please stop", you beg. . . only wanting the pain to stop, while in your mind, beneath your fear, you know that these spanking slaps on your butt will not harm you but will sting more & more if they do not stop. "Answer me," he says again as softly as a preacher but the smarting stinging blows continue until you answer, "Yes, I have been treated very well. " "Please stop, S-sir!!" "I'll do what you want. " There!! You have said it. The paddle drops to the floor & your captor's voice asks, "Will you beg for it?" "Yes", you answer quietly.

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   "Will you do your best to make it good for me, responding to my commands, doing whatever I say without question?" "Sobbing softly, more from the emotional release of surrendering than from pain or fear. "Yes Sir. " Caressing your upturned ass. . . "Go on", he says. You don't know what to say. . . you hear him reaching for the paddle and stutter, "P-please, I will be good, whatever you want. . . I'll do it. " For several minutes there is no sound but his breathing. You hear yourself say, "please do something, I need you to do something.

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   I can't stand it. . . . Please???" A soft touch on your rear cheeks. . . You realize it is his cheek. He has knelt behind you and has his cheek against your soft rear. . . just beginning to move, even nuzzling against your smarting softness. An almost inaudible "mmmmmm" from behind you. A feeling as of small kisses along the bottom of your stinging heinie. More pressing of his cheek into your ass… his lips now, softly puckering up into your pretty, shapely, inviting crease.

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   There is no doubt now that his lips are caressing your behind. His hands massage and push your ass cheeks together. Then grasping them, pulling them apart. Wider & wider he forces your ass to spread. You feel his tongue tease your crease through your thin pants then you hear a "snap" "snap". . . & hot breath flowing inside your harem pants warmly surrounds your pussy causing chills to cover your butt & spread down your legs. When his tongue touches your small little pucker, your reflex causes you to hunch backwards & moan, "Yessssss. " He continues to tickle your asshole with just the tip of his tongue for some time before flattening it, spreading his saliva up and down your inner ass cheeks and around your wrinkled pinkish-brown rear entrance. He is making small noises of enjoyment while serving your anus orally. You keep trying to move his attention down to your moist and (you are embarrassed to know) dripping slit by raising and spreading your thighs and ass cheeks as much as you can… but he is focused. Biting and licking your ass all over with sloppy wet sucks and kisses, he probes your anus with his tongue, burrowing it up your little butthole insistently, he eventually loosens it's tight grip to allow his tongue inside an inch. He twists & twirls his tongue. Flipping it, curling it up inside you, continuously, he never stops to allow your grasping rectum a rest, eventually driving you near madness with the impulse to get it in deeper.

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   Little short ass fucking strokes with his tongue, faster, faster, faster, until you are ready to explode from the maddening inadequate contact. He continues to tongue fuck your asshole, staying with you as you squirm and dance as much as you can to escape his torturous rear attack. You begin to squeal, writhing about in frustration, bucking and crying out, begging for release, "harder, harder, HARD, GOD!! PLEASE, HARDER!" Fighting against your cuffs, you thrashing about to escape the torture of unfullfillment. You blather mindlessly, unaware of what you are saying. Suddenly his slick tongue (you think it is his tongue) slithers up your ass into your bowels. So deep…. “Unghhhh, GODDDDDDD!“ you scream out. In and out it moves, deeper with each fuck up your ass. His seemingly prehensile tongue is fat and stretches your rear entrance but is small and limber up in your intestines where it is thrashing about, wriggling like a worm on an ant bed, inching into your bowels further. It crawls up your intestine and slithers back, fucking faster and faster, curling deep inside you. Your captor just hums and groans in time with his motions behind you. A violent tremor inside your guts rumbles as if your bowels are about to turn loose. It grabs your body like your abdomen is in a huge fist, squeezing and churning in time with the tongue inside you. Clenching and unclenching your fists, you are jabbering mindlessly. .

 

  . drooling as if the motion inside of you has driven you mad. A feeling of spinning inside, like a child’s swing being twisted up and then released to spin again until you are dizzy. It continues…gaining speed. . . faster and faster, spinning as if hooked to a drill motor. It seems to expand until it is swabbing the insides of your intestine walls with a chamois-like softness. . . in and out too. . . . GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! You scream out in slavering madness.

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   White light is all you see. An orgasm has taken over your life forces. You feel as if you must die!! The conflicting emotions of gentle sadistic torture and exquisite rapturous convulsions combine to push your entire body to wrack and shudder wildly as if in a severe attack of epilepsy. Eyes rolled up into your head. . . body stiff, vibrating as if high voltage is running through it. . . teeth clenched, foam dripping from your lips. You bite blood from your lips while thrashing about on the horse. GAAAHHHHHHHHHAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!! A long scream empties your lungs. . . your mouth remains open after the scream ceases.

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   You remain stiff. You convulse three or four jerks in a final, death-like paroxysm. . . before collapsing. . . limp. . . unconscious. to be continued.