by JB Duvane
She was within ten feet of the tree now, each step she took echoing through my ears as if we were both inside a dark tunnel. Each step that she took slowed to a crawl and I swear it took her five minutes to take those last few steps. Just as she passed in front of me I stepped out from behind the tree. I barely had to move at all. Just one step and my gloved hand slipped around the front of her face, the chemical-soaked cloth covering her nose and mouth completely.
I didn’t necessarily want to drug her. I knew that there were dangers when messing around with any kind of anesthetic, but I couldn’t risk her struggling or being seen. I also wanted to keep my identity and location from her for as long as possible. I hadn’t completely planned out how this was all going to go once I had her in my house, but I figured I’d have plenty of time to figure it out once I got her into her room.
I didn’t expect to be so effected by what happened just before she succumbed to the anesthetic, though. She struggled a bit—grabbing my arm and trying to wriggle free of my grasp—which I’d expected. But the sound that came from her throat, the sadness of her cry, filled me with a sense of self loathing that almost turned my stomach.
I didn’t want to be the cause of any pain for Ashley. Emotional pain, anyway. In our chat sessions she told me that she had fantasies of being tied up and spanked and I would be more than happy to provide that kind of pain for her. When I thought about what I was doing too much it made me want to stop—to abandon this whole plan. But the part of me that wanted her all for myself—the part of me that sat up all night long watching her sleep through the hidden cameras—wouldn’t allow that.
As Ashley fell into my arms, completely unconscious, I realized I had always been powerless to stop myself from doing the very thing I was trying to protect her from. I knew that, regardless of how much I wanted to keep her safe, the part of me that I couldn’t control was going to hurt her.
Captive (Ashley)
My legs brushed across the soft fabric of the sheets before I even opened my eyes. Every thing felt so soft and cozy and dark, and I figured I must have woken up in the middle of the night because the room was pitch black. But my brain was still in a sleepy haze and I was having a hard time forming any thoughts that I could grasp onto. My world was just a warm pool of fuzzy feelings and half awarenesses of the position of my body and how much I wanted to stay right where I was—in that cozy cocoon that existed in between asleep and awake.
It wasn’t until my mind cleared a bit that I realized I couldn’t actually open my eyes. I wondered if maybe I was still dreaming and had taken a bizarre turn down a path into nightmare territory. I’d had dreams before that started out with being frustrated with myself, where I tried to perform the same task over and over—like pushing the numbers on a telephone—but each time, I would lose control and my finger would press the wrong number. No matter how many times I tried—no matter how long I stared at the number pad on the phone and tried to force my fingers to press the correct number sequence—I couldn’t get them to cooperate.
Sometimes my dreams started out like that and ended with me feeling completely embarrassed while people around me watched me fail again and again. That’s what lying in this bed in the dark felt like. I couldn’t get my eyes to cooperate. No matter how many times I tried to open them, they stayed closed and I wondered if it was just another variation on that same, frustrating dream. I decided to try and move my arms up so that I could rub my eyes and get them to work, but I couldn’t move them either. It felt like my arms were secured behind my back somehow.
I was on my side with my arms behind me and I tried to push myself back and forth with my legs. My mind finally snapped into reality and I knew I was awake when I fell forward onto my stomach—my face becoming buried in a soft pillow—but I didn’t have the strength to push myself back.
I was awake and I was blindfolded and tied up in a bed.
I could feel myself start to panic. My breaths came faster and my heart started racing, but I didn’t try to get up yet. I continued to lie where I was—face down with my forehead now pressed into the incredibly soft, down pillow—so that I could at least breathe. I tried to think back to what had happened the night before and remember how the hell I wound up here—wherever here was.
I took deeper breaths and released them completely so that I could get myself to calm down. It wasn’t like I was a social butterfly, so remembering what I had done the night before shouldn’t have been that hard.
“Think,” I said out loud to myself. “What happened last night, Ashley. What the hell did you do?”
Suddenly the image of my chat session with Sir flashed before me. I remembered talking to him about my stupid Doki Doki box and then masturbating for him. Then I remembered making arrangements to meet him at a restaurant. I got a pang in my stomach when I realized that I never made it to that restaurant.
“Oh no,” I said out loud again. Sir had probably sat there for hours thinking I had ditched him. I wished I could text him right now and apologize, but then I realized how crazy that was. I was more concerned with him knowing that I hadn’t intended to blow him off than I was with how the hell I got here? But the truth was, I was concerned. I had been so excited to meet with him and it had all been ruined by whatever, or whoever brought me to this place.
But whatever happened, it was on the way to that restaurant to meet Sir. I was starting to remember. I had vague images in my head of being stopped while I was walking through the park on my way to meet him.
My head was still so foggy and the last thing I could remember was the feeling of the cool air on my legs and the excitement and nervousness that filled my body at the thought of actually meeting him. I remembered the sound of my heels as they clicked along the pavement. I’d always loved that sound when I was a kid—my mom’s heels clicking across the hardwood floors or down the cobblestone path to the garage. And the fact that I was clicking my way down a path, on my way to meet Sir, I felt more like an adult that I ever had in my life.
But then I remembered more. I remembered someone grabbing me from behind and putting a chemical-smelling cloth over my mouth—but then nothing after that. I didn’t even remember struggling or being moved or anything about how I wound up in this bed.
Oh fuck, I thought as I tried to roll myself onto my side again. Someone drugged me and fucking kidnapped me!
I rubbed my legs together and could feel that my shoes had been taken off, but I couldn’t tell if I still had any of my clothes on. I wriggled around a bit and could tell that my dress had been removed. It was a tight, black dress and I would have felt if it was still zipped up around my rib cage. I twisted my hands around and felt my ass—the only part of my body I could reach since my wrists were cuffed together—and I could feel a thin, silky material that felt like it stopped right at the bottom of my ass. It felt like silk or some other expensive nightgown material with a lace edging.
As my head continued to clear, I flexed my muscles and moved my arms and legs around a little. It didn’t feel like my body had been hurt in any way, and I didn’t feel like I’d been violated anywhere. Whoever took off my clothes and put me in this nightgown and bed didn’t seem to want to hurt me, at least not yet. But they wanted to make sure I couldn’t see anything and couldn’t get away.
But I could try, I thought. My legs weren’t cuffed and I bent them underneath me as I twisted my body and used my elbow to push myself up into a sitting position. But as soon as I sat up I got really woozy. Even though I couldn’t see anything, it felt like the room was tipping and before I knew it, I was laying down on my side again. Whatever they used to knock me out was still in my system and I didn’t seem to be able to stay up on my own.
I tried to stay calm and see if I could figure out even a little bit of information about where I was.
I wasn’t cold. The room was warm and the bed was incredibly comfortable. The sheets were soft and the mattress felt like it was topped with a layer of down. As I lay there, appreciating the fee
l of the expensive sheets, I realized I couldn’t hear a thing. Just my breathing and the sound of my heart beating in the ear that was resting on the pillow. Other than that the room was silent.
There was no sound to latch onto in any way, but as I drifted in the darkness, I realized that something was lulling me into a feeling of calm. There was something about the smells that were surrounding me in the room that made me feel almost safe, and a little bit tingly inside.
I pressed my nose into the pillow and I could smell a floral scent, probably the laundry detergent, but there was more than that. There was a deeper, muskier scent that filled me up and relaxed me. It was a familiar smell—and the mixture was something I remembered smelling on a number of occasions, but I couldn’t quite place where.
As I drifted, I suddenly started thinking about my best friend, Jessica. Sometimes thoughts of her made me incredibly sad, but at this particular moment—maybe because of the smells and the way the bed made me feel so strangely safe—they made me feel even more cozy. I thought about some of the times when we were young and silly and had lots of time to do nothing. I guess not much different than my life right now, but back then, we had each other.
We’d been best friends all while growing up. Her house was in a different neighborhood than mine—her family being incredibly well off—but we became friends at a community play group and were inseparable after that. We spent nearly every day together while we were growing up, even though we didn’t ever go to the same schools.
The memory that popped into my head was one when we were at her house after school. We would always be at one of our houses together until as late as possible, when our parents would insist that we get home because dinner was already cold and ruined. We drove them crazy, but we didn’t care. Nothing else seemed as important as being together and talking.
We would be on the phone for hours in the evenings after dinner and then in the mornings before we had to leave for school. I honestly didn’t even remember a single thing we talked about now. Probably the usual boys and clothes and makeup, but back then it seemed so much more earth shattering. Sometimes I wondered what we would talk about now if she were still around. I also wondered if we would still be as inseparable as we had been back then—but I didn’t have to wait a fraction of a second to answer that question in my head. I was one-hundred percent sure we would.
That day, when we were at Jessica’s house, we were trying to find something to do. After eating all the junk food we could find in the kitchen, and after flipping through the fifty-thousand channels on TV, we were still bored.
“What do your parent’s keep hidden from you?” Jessica asked me.
“I don’t know,” I laughed. “I’ve never snooped through their stuff. Why? Have you?”
“A little. My mom leaves her iPad in her nightstand drawer and I’ve looked at the books she has on there. Some of them are really sexy, with half naked women on the covers and everything. Wanna go see?”
“Are you sure she won’t be home anytime soon?” I asked, a little nervous about invading someone’s privacy like that.
“She won’t be home for at least an hour. Come on!” Jessica pulled me up off the couch and up the stairs to the second floor.
When we got to the top of the stairs, we shuffled our feet across the thick, white carpeting that ran down the length of the hall on the second floor like we were cross-country skiing—our toes pressing into the soft fibers as our feet glided through the pile. Then we leapt from the doorway of her parent’s room and landed on their huge, fluffy bed—giggling because we had made the world’s championship jump.
Jessica rolled to one side of the bed and opened up the top drawer in the bedside table. “This is my mom’s side,” she said as she riffled through the drawer.
She pulled the iPad out of the drawer and rolled onto her back, holding the tablet in both hands up in the air over her head.
“It isn’t password protected?”
“Nope. My mom and dad use each other’s phones and stuff all the time.”
I was actually more interested in what was in her dad’s bedside drawer. I opened it up slowly and reached my hand in, running my fingers over a bottle of some kind of lotion that said it was designed with men in mind. Then I picked up a small, black bottle that said Gun Oil in big letters on the front. The letters all looked like they had gunshots in them.
“Does your dad have a gun?” I asked Jessica.
“I don’t think so. You wouldn’t believe some of the books my mom has on here. Most of these are new. Fucked by a Crowd, Never-ending Gangbang, Forced to Fuck, Spank Me Until I Come. Jesus, I didn’t know she was into this stuff.”
I turned the bottle around in my hand, wondering why Jessica’s dad would have gun oil in his bedside dresser, then saw the words For Topical Use on the back. Apply desired amount to genital areas, I read to myself. Then I turned the bottle back around and saw silicone lubricant in small letters across the top of the bottle.
“Oh,” I said out loud, setting the bottle back in the drawer.
“What?” Jessica asked.
“Nothing. It’s not for that kind of gun, I guess,” still perplexed as to what exactly it was used for and why he would need to apply it to his genitals. I got a funny feeling inside my stomach when I thought about it.
I pulled the drawer out a little further and saw something black toward the back. When I picked it up a chain that attached two pieces of black leather together scratched across the bottom of the drawer.
“Wow,” I said as I held the two rectangles of leather up in the air. Both pieces of leather had buckles on them and were attached together by a short chain. “Check this out.”
“Oh my God, Ashley. You have to check this out.” She held the iPad so I could see it and scrolled through a series of pictures that looked like they had been taken at a party. Everyone in the pictures was naked and had black masks on over their eyes. It looked like most of the women were on their hands and knees and the men were sitting in chairs or were standing around. There was a picture of one woman with her face right in a man’s crotch. It looked like his dick was in her mouth.
“What are they doing?” I asked, but Jessica was already scrolling ahead to some other picture. “Slow down, Jess! I can’t tell what’s going on!”
But then Jessica came to a screeching halt at one of the pictures. It was a close-up of a man holding his cock in his hand. At the time I didn’t even feel comfortable using that word. I was pretty sure all we ever called them back then was a man’s thing, at least that’s what I called it. Since then I’d become a hell of a lot more comfortable with words like cock or rod or a variety of other terms for a man’s junk. Sometimes you had to get creative when you were in my line of work.
But back then it was startling. I hadn’t seen too many cocks at that point. Kids at school were always talking about weird positions they’d seen online or videos they saw of some chick with really big boobs, but it wasn’t something I went out of my way to look at.
It wasn’t until Jessica screamed and threw the iPad on my stomach that I got a better look and was able to figure out what was going on.
“I can’t look! Oh my God, Ashley!” she yelled through hands that were covering her face.
I picked up the tablet and looked at the picture. Not only was a massive cock completely visible—and more close up than any I’d ever seen—but the face of the man who it belonged was too. It was him. Jessica’s dad.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. It took me a moment for the shock to wear off, and when it did, I swiped to the next picture. In it, Jessica’s dad was holding his cock down behind a woman. He was pointing it in between her ass cheeks while she held them apart for him. Then in the next image the person holding the camera changed the angle so that it was from Jessica’s dad’s point of view. In that one, his huge cock was disappearing into the tiny asshole of the woman. Suddenly the words apply desired amount to genital area flashed into my brain again.
&nbs
p; “Oh my God!” I yelled.
“What?!” Jessica screamed. “What?!”
“He’s sticking it in her butt!”
I couldn’t believe he could even get that thing in there. I squirmed while I thought of trying to put something that big in my own asshole, and I couldn’t even fathom it.
“No! Oh my God, let me see!” she said as she grabbed the tablet out of my hands. She glanced at it for a second then threw it back on my stomach again. “Oh my God! I can’t look at that anymore! Is that my mom?! Oh my God I don’t even want to know!”
I picked up the tablet again and swiped through a few more pictures. “Yeah,” I said, fascinated by the look of pleasure on her face as Jessica’s dad buried his cock deep in her asshole. “It’s your mom.”
“Jess, honey! I’m home!”
“Oh, fuck fuck fuck fuck!” Jess whispered as she jumped up off the bed. “Gimme!”
I threw the iPad to the other side of the bed and she closed out all the apps, then slipped it into the drawer and slid it shut silently. I did the same on my side of the bed and we both straightened the comforter, erasing the outlines our bodies had made in the fluffy, down bedspread.
We tip-toed out the door, then went to the top of the stairs, both of us pretending that we were tired and bored, when I knew that both our hearts were racing like crazy. Not just from almost getting caught snooping through her parent’s room, but also from what we had just seen. My mind reeled when I thought about the pictures of Jessica’s parents. They were at a party where everyone was naked. Jessica’s parents were fucking at that party. But not only that, Jessica’s dad was sticking his cock in her mom’s asshole. His incredibly, long, thick, hard cock.