Kidnap Memories: Part 2

This is a continuation of a post I made a while back; my girlfriend was out with her own dominatrix and I was alone masturbating in bed. When I masturbate, I tend to think about past lovers, past situations, and this time I was remembering the first time I'd done a weekend kidnap scene. The post turned out to be too long. So, here's the second half of it. Yes, I had to get along and masturbate and relive the memories in order to remember it properly. Believe it or not, masturbating helps me remember the details of my previous kink encounters.

Eric and Emma. A married couple. Eric was a rope artist, fairly good at what he did. Emma was a sub who loved kink and to be tied up. A good match, and they got married and were happy, as far as I know. They went on to expand their kink to generate porn for sale and make some money out of it. My experience with them was just as they were thinking of doing that but hadn't actually started a business yet.

In my earlier post I described how I had hooked up with Eric because he was a good rope artist and I rather enjoyed having scenes with him. He offered me money for a photoshoot, and then asked if I'd like to do a weekend-long kidnap scene. I was skeptical about both, but finally agreed.

Back to the scene. I'd been Eric and Emma's kidnapped sex slave for a day now, and spent the night sleeping in a closet. My wrists tied behind my back, a collar and leash locked on and fastened to the closet. And most annoyingly, a heavy cloth sack over my head.

I could breathe, but the air was stale and stuffy and getting fresh air was a chore. And of course I could see nothing. Sleeping in the close it was completely dark, of course, but the sack made it psychologically worse.

As it turned out, the threat of having my head sacked became one of the most effective threats and tools Eric used while keeping me in his house. If I gave him a hard time about something, all he had to say was "do you need me to put the sack back on?" and I'd become immediately compliant.

I didn't care what he did to me, as long as my head wasn't in the sack. Especially after that night. No sack. Please.

There was a bucket in the closet for me to pee and poop in, and the entire closet had newspaper laid down. Yeah, it felt like I was a locked up hamster or other pet.

Morning came after a night of fitful attempts to sleep, and the closet door was opened. Eric removed my hood and I gasped clean, fresh air and shook my hair out.

"Thank you," I said, grateful.

"Sure," Eric responded. "Time for you to contribute to the household."

He unlocked my leash and led me to the bathroom. I knew what was coming, and I bet it had been Emma's idea. Eric loved having a sex slave to fuck at will and keep tied up. Emma was going to take advantage and make me do some of her cleaning.

"Here," Emma said. She provided a brush, some rags, a cloth and a toothbrush. "This tile floor really needs some heavy cleaning, especially in the cracks. I want that floor shining and the grout cleaned."

This was not exactly what I had envisioned as a sex slave for a weekend. On the other hand, I had made the mistake of not really thinking what I was doing through. I wanted the money, which would more than pay for a month's rent (at the time). 

But there I was, hands and knees, scrubbing a kitchen floor, naked. Tied up, able to move in limited ways.

I hadn't really had one orgasm yet. My mistake, I guess, but I had envisioned a weekend of debauchery in which I would be given multiple orgasms while tied up. 

Yeah, Eric had gotten a couple of good orgasms out of this, but me? Not one. 

I grumbled and complained while I was on the floor scrubbing. To my credit, I did in fact try to do a good job.

Eric took a number of photos of me humiliated and scrubbing a floor naked. Back then I had a body to die for (my body is still pretty good, though age has taken its toll). So I knew the photos were going to come out nicely, and actually sort of posed for them while working. 

You know, spreading my legs, making sure my arm was out of the way to catch my boob hanging down, sucking my stomach in, or turning my face toward the camera.

But all in all this was tedious work and not what I had signed up for.

I made this opinion clear with my grumblings, which got louder as I worked.

Finally Eric had enough and jerked the chain on my collar.

"Get up, bitch. You can't even perform a simple menial task without being a complete bitch and moaning and groaning. I will give you something to moan about."

"Wait... no... please, Eric, I will do a better job." I began scrubbing harder and faster.

"I told you to stop calling me that! It's master, you worm! And you are going to learn that!"

The hood went on before I saw it coming. The burlap sack over my head. Damn I hated that thing.

"No, please, Master, I will do as you ask! I will be good!"

I meant this, too. I knew down deep I was in deep shit with him and Emma and was under his control, at least for the day. I was in and out of subspace, but whenever Eric got intense, I slipped into subspace and truly tried to be subservient. 

Pulled along with my leash and chain, I followed, bumping into a few things along the way as I could see nothing and Eric wasn't being especially careful. I swore a couple of times when I banged shins (I can have a nasty mouth).

I didn't know where he had me at first, I couldn't tell. It turned out I was in the garage; figured that out because of the large, echoing sound. 

"Always wanted to try this, you gave me a reason to do it," Eric growled as I stood, disoriented. He grabbed the sack on my head and pulled it off, smoothing my ruffled hair afterward. He was nice like that. I am sure he did it because he wanted me to look good for the photos he'd be taking.

He grabbed my wrists and quickly tied them behind me. One thing about Eric, he could do simple ties incredibly fast. My wrists were tightly secured behind my back in a few seconds.

That was normal, but what followed was something new to me.

Remember, I was only about 19 at the time. I'd been doing bondage of one sort or another for four, maybe five years, but a lot was self bondage and the rest was relatively simple. Eric was the master and the best I had ever encountered at that point of my life.

So when he attached something to my wrist tie and it began pulling my wrists up behind me, it was a new experience. Strappado. I don't think I had even heard the word at that point in my life, but was getting a practical demonstration of it.

At first it was just slightly uncomfortable, and a new position (which I sort of liked).

As my wrists went higher (we was pulling a rope through an eye bolt, he hadn't gotten sophisticated enough for pulleys at that point in life), my shoulders started complaining and I began grunting. 

The natural thing to do when in strappado is to lean forward. Everyone does it. Can't help but do it, really. So I did. 

"Ah... ah... AH...." I was making noise as my wrists went higher and I bent over until my body was parallel to the floor and my boobs were hanging down. Thank god he stopped there.

"A perfect position, don't you think?" Eric said, gently rubbing my ass with his hand, slipping fingers between the ass cheeks and finding my cunt.

It was true, I was stuck in a bent over position and there was little I could do about it.

I had to admit to myself, this was new and fun. I loved being restricted and tied in new positions and this was new and unique. Forced to bend over, unable to escape, helpless and available. Down deep, I wanted him to take advantage of me, to finger me.

He had other ideas. Something was stuck in front of my face. 

"Kiss the cane," he said.

It was a cane. I had felt them a couple of times before, they hurt like hell. I kissed it, knowing I'd soon be in pain from it.

Once kissed, the cane made its way behind me and I lost track of it.

Until I felt it slapping against my ass. The sting was unexpected and strong. I yelped.

"Count," Eric said.

"One!" I cried.

The cane stroked against my ass again, and again.

"Two!"  "Three!"  "Four!"  "How many, Master, Please no more!"

"Ten," Eric said and continued.

Canings can leave nasty welts. I'd never experienced a significant caning before (I'd gotten a few mild strokes from a boyfriend, enough to learn respect for them). My ass was on fire and I knew this was worse than a lot of punishments I'd received. I begged, truly begged for him to stop. I meant what I was begging for. 

"Ten!" I finally called out and the caning was over. It could have been much worse and I know now (having experienced much worse) that Eric was going really easy on me. At the time though, I was crying and felt like I wouldn't be able to sit down for a month. My ass, which I saw about a day later, was covered with welts, but they weren't bad ones.

He left the room. I remained in the bent over position, the fire in my ass slowly subsiding, waiting for his return. This is one of the things I hate and love the most about bondage. To be tied up helpless, in an uncomfortable position, and simply left. Ignored. My plight something I just need to suffer through.

I struggled with the wrist tie for a little, though it was pointless. Eric was too good with rope. I moved back and forth, shifting around, but nothing really relieved my position. 

It was not long, maybe ten minutes, before Eric came back, but it seemed a lot longer.

"I think you owe me a blow job," he said.

"Yes, sir," I answered. I'd learned my lesson. 

He dropped his pants and raised his T-shirt. His cock sort of bounced out, it was hard and ready.

Frankly, that's my experience with most cocks I see for the first time. They are usually hard and ready by the time I am presented with them. I seldom have to take a soft cock into my mouth, unless the guy has already cum once and I am trying to get him back up.

This was maybe the fifth or sixth time I'd had Eric's cock in my mouth and it was familiar by then. I knew how to get him off, and did my best. He didn't cum as fast as I wished he would, but he came.

He came on my face, not in my mouth. If he'd cum in my mouth I would have just spit it out on the floor beneath me. I hated swallowing (still hate it, as a matter of fact).

I don't know how long I was in strappado but it must have been a while because the day had advanced quite a bit by the time he lowered my wrists.

"OK, I've always wanted to try something, and you are the perfect candidate," Eric said. He had a table with a lot of his rope gear to the side of the garage. I think he played with Emma in there at times. Emma got tied up a lot.

Eric got some of his best rope out, conditioned, flexible stuff in a long, long length. (To this day I admire guys with good rope skills.)

"So babe, listen. This is new so I am going to trust you to tell me if it gets too much. OK? I am listening." Eric was being straight with me. I was doing his rope artist thing, where he was making sure his model was OK. This is one reason I trusted him and agreed to let him disable me and abuse me in limited ways-- I knew he took this seriously and was not just having fun, he was also looking out for me.

I nodded. "OK." Giving my consent.

I have somewhat large boobs. They aren't huge, but they are definitely on the larger side. Perfect for guys tying them up. Balloon boobs. Forcing them out into big round bulbous blobs in front of my chest. 

That's what Eric did. He wrapped one end of the rope around one of my boobs; this was first for me. I mean, I'd had rope around my chest before, but this was the first time a guy had specifically wrapped rope around my boob to make it blob out like a balloon.

It was tight, but it didn't hurt terribly. 

Once he'd wrapped my left boob, he did the right one. I was a strange feeling, a new sensation for me (something I value). 

OK, so there is one thing no guy can resist when they have a naked women tied up with her tits tied and bulging. They absolutely have to slap them.

Yes, there are some truisms, some rituals and things you can't escape if you are going to be a rope sub. If your boobs get tied, they will be slapped. It's a rule.

So Eric slapped them. 

He didn't beat them, or cane them, or burn them or clamp them or whip them, all of which has happened to them since. No, he simply played around with them like they were a kid's beach balls and slapped them around.

It was funny, actually, watching him play with them. 

It was also mildly painful, just some slapping, but no big deal.

His play time was broken up by Emma coming in and looking at what he was doing with a frown.

"Having fun with the sex slave?" She asked.

Eric smiled happily.

"Don't forget, half the reason she is here is to get some good photos," she added. "In fact, let me get the camera."

Eric slapped me a few more times. Emma came back and began taking photos of me standing in place with my boobs bulging like balloons.

To tell you the truth, having bound, bulbous breasts is sort of humiliating. I am not sure why, it's just the idea that someone has taken part of my body and has tied it up to make it into some sort of plaything. I just... I don't feel sexy with balloon boobs. 

Emma actually told Eric to get me back up into strappado so she could get some photos, so up my wrists went, bending me over. This time with bound breasts.

He pulled my arms up enough it was straining my shoulders and hurt some. The look on my face (of pain) made Eric happy and Emma took photos then told him to put me back down. She was all in for torturing and using me, but she was a lot more mild than Eric.

Once that was done, I was standing in place again, boobs still tied.

I'd been on my feet for well over an hour, maybe two or two and a half. It was hard keeping track of time. I do know that Emma went grocery shopping and returned while I was strung up in the garage. Their life continued as normal as their sex slave suffered.

My boobs were also sort of pounding, like, I could feel they were pulsing with my heartbeat. It wasn't bad, but indicated they were having trouble getting good blood flow.

"Master, may I be released?" I asked politely.

"I want to try something first. Again, babe... I am new to this and will be careful. You need to tell me if it gets too intense."

I sighed. "Fine."

Consent given.

The ropes around my boobs went up into the air and through the eye bolts above me. 

Uh oh... he was going to pull them up. Like... was he going to suspend me from my breasts? Naahhh.... was that a thing? You couldn't do that, could you? 

Honestly, at 19 I had never experienced that and didn't think it was possible. So I figured he was just going to put some weights on them or something.

He pulled me up. The pressure on my breasts got intense. My wrists were tied behind my back. There was nothing I could do alleviate the pressure. The flesh to the side of my breasts pulled and stretched. The boobs pulsed. 

I stood on tiptoe.

"OK, that's... "

Eric stopped there and checked on me. "Is it hurting?"

"Well it sure doesn't feel good," I snapped at him. 

"But does it feel like a muscle is going to be pulled or flesh ripped?"

Sighing I shook my head. I wasn't going to pull the plug on this activity... yet.

He pulled up some more. I was on the balls of my feet and a lot of my weight was on my boobs. I looked at them, they were purple. I shuddered. It hurt. I wondered if my boobs could actually pop. I didn't think so. Damn, it hurt. Not as bad as the caning though. Weird.

"Take her down," Emma said. Eric lowered me. Blood flooded back into my breasts. The pain subsided

"Tie her arms up there so she can help support herself with her hands."

Dammit, Emma wasn't actually telling him to stop, she was telling him to change how I was tied. Making it less likely for me to actually damage myself so he could continue the suspension.

So, Eric undid my wrists and tied them again in front of me, then slipped the rope through an eye bolt above me and lifted me up. He pulled me up by my wrists until I was truly on my tip-toes.

He then pulled on my breast ropes until almost all my weight was on them.

My hands were right next to the rope that was tied around my wrists. My weight was increasingly on my breasts until I felt like I was hanging from them.

To compensate, I grabbed the rope around my wrists and lifted myself up with my arms.

I admit, I am not and was not a super fit girl that can do endless pull-ups. I tried the best I could to lift myself up and it relieved the pressure on my boobs but oh god, there was a limit. After a minute I let go and sank down, all my body weight going to my breasts.

Thirty seconds later I was hauling myself up again to give my breasts a rest.

This up and down motion continued for a few minutes, during which I became more and more distressed. Emma was taking photos as fast as possible, including ones of my agonized face. Eric would occasionally feel me up, hands on my tight breasts or between my legs. I ignored all of this, just trying to cope with the situation.

It was increasingly becoming miserable. At that age I hadn't acquired some of the toughness that I have now, and I just was falling apart. Tears were streaming and I began begging to be let down.

With other things, Eric would ignore me begging, but with this he immediately lowered me.

I've done breasts suspensions since then, and understand them a lot better. Back then I was just emotionally overwhelmed by what was going on. The mental anguish was as bad as the pain (which wasn't actually as bad as many other things I've endured).

Eric lowered me to the floor and both he and Emma came over and cuddled with me. Eric isn't good at aftercare, but Emma is and I needed it then. I had been suffering mentally over my experience that afternoon as much as I had ever mentally suffered. (Including the time I was hit by boyfriends).

I was still collared and leashed but right then I was completely unsecured and could have gotten up and walked out. No locks except on the collar, which wouldn't have stopped me leaving. 

But I didn't even think about it. I was there to suffer and be their sex toy, and my mind had accepted that. And they were being kind to me, caring for me after I had suffered. I didn't want to leave.

Things changed a bit after this. The couple took me to their bedroom. I was still their sex slave, but things got a little less intense.

I was chained to their bed. They had a bed with bondage accessories like four posts and anchor points for chains or ropes (they were a very kinky couple). My leash was locked to the bed but otherwise I was allowed to move about freely on a six foot chain.

I took a nap.

Yeah, that was the best I could do. I was on a comfortable bed for the first time since my kidnapping and the husband / wife team left me there to go do whatever they did on a weekend. My body ached from being tied up and caned and suspended and I simply lay back and fell asleep.

Another thing about being kidnapped and kept as a sex slave for a weekend-- you can't actually have sex the entire weekend. My captors had work to do, they paid bills, went shopping, even watched a TV show or two. 

My time on their bed was wonderful, but it ended, as all things do. Eric came in and unlocked my leash, leading me to a closet for 'storage'. 

Tied, secured to the wall and gagged, the door shut on me and I was in the dark again.

Subspace flooded over me and I sank down, waiting for my master.

I'd been in captivity only for a day and a half, but in that time my old life had receded and all that was around me was the closet, my tied and secured arms and legs, the gag, my master and the desire to please him, my mistress and my feelings of gratitude toward her for tempering the more sadistic leanings of my master.

I was fed and watered. I peed in the bucket. I lay as best I could (my collar and leash were secured high enough so I couldn't actually lie down).

Several hours later Eric came in and said, "time to join us for a threesome."

I obediently stood and allowed him to lead me into the bedroom. The idea of the threesome was actually rather arousing for me. I'd sucked Eric a couple of times and been fucked by him but this held promise-- I could be part of the threesome.

Emma is a good looking woman. She was maybe eight years older than me at the time, but in very good shape and experienced.

My collar remained on and I was chained to the bed with a lengthy chain that allowed lots of leeway. If I tried to run I wouldn't make it to the door, but I could go anywhere on the bed I liked. My wrists and ankles had cuffs on them, which Eric used occasionally to lock me up, but most of the time I was free to move.

"Time to service Emma," Eric announced. Emma was stripping and crawling onto the bed with me. She looked like she was excited to be naked with me in bed. I knew Emma wasn't lesbian and even her bisexual interests were limited. She was mostly straight. But in the right circumstances, she could enjoy being with a woman, and I guess this was one of them. 

At 19 I had gained some experience with women, including having had a girlfriend for a few months in high school. I considered myself straight (that changed over time) but enjoyed being with anyone attractive, regardless of sex. 

So I dove right in when Emma spread her legs for me. 

It was a delight. Pure enjoyment to crawl in, feel my tongue press against the soft folds of her pussy, to lick her and see her react in pleasure, to taste her as her vagina lubricated itself. 

I felt Eric's face between my legs and spread them to allow him access as I continued with Emma. He licked and readied me for a while (I was already dripping wet), then I felt him enter me.

His thrusts pushed my body and head up and down and I simply converted that movement to a rhythm licking Emma. 

Apparently I was good, because Emma was moaning and grunting and grabbed my head and was totally into it. It felt good to have Eric's cock thrusting into me as well, I liked being fucked. I like the sensation of being penetrated, I get off on the thrusting, the force that is used to ram into me, and if the angle is right the stimulation can really feel fantastic.

This was like... the second set of people I'd had a threesome with in my life at that point, and it was new and a lot of fun. I still felt a bit like a slave, but at this point it was really fun being a sex slave and being used to satisfy this couple's sexual cravings.

Eric had cum earlier, so he wasn't cumming quickly and pulled out to switch positions.

He went to Emma and began fucking her. My own pussy juices were covering his dick, as well as my saliva on her pussy and it was sort of kinky thinking about his pushing his cock into her pussy with my body fluids providing all the lube.

Eric and Emma were made for each other, I could tell that. The two of them fucked like they were one organism. She was moaning and shuddering, I think she was having an orgasm, maybe two, as Eric thrust into her. 

I tried to help, kissing Emma and reaching down to stimulate her clit. (One of the things about sex with a guy is I need direct clit stimulation to cum, and that doesn't happen in most positions with a guy, so I stimulate my clit directly with my fingers during sex). 

It was incredibly rewarding to see Emma shudder with her mouth in an O and cry out as she definitely came.

I had been conditioned for the last couple of days to be totally subservient and to obey my master, and this feeling slid easily into the desire to make both of them orgasm. To use my body, my skills, to pleasure them. When I saw and felt Emma climax, I almost climaxed myself.

Eric secured my wrists to give me a feeling of being restrained (the collar and chain prevented me from leaving but I didn't actually feel restrained). It didn't slow us down much. Yes, I couldn't use my hands as easily, but that was OK. I could use my mouth and cunt and breasts and ass and I used them all with both Emma and Eric.

I have to admit I focused more on Emma, at least mentally. Eric could take care of himself. He had the cock and stuck it into whatever hole he wanted as we writhed together, the three of us. At one point he pushed it into my mouth and I could taste the shit from Emma's ass, which it had been just before.  That was a bit of a surprise, but things were just flowing and so intense I didn't let it stop me and just sucked him off.

Eventually we ended up in an Eiffel Tower position (I didn't know it had that name back then), with me sitting on Eric's cock, riding it, and Emma on his face. She reached down and was rubbing my clit as I moved up and down and I came. A mind blowing orgasm, I shuddered, cried out, clutched for Emma and ground down on Eric's cock to feel it go as deep inside as it could go.

It was the first of two amazing orgasms I had that evening, the second being when Eric was in my ass and Emma was licking my clit.

Yeah. That was the day I decided I could go for a threesome. It really depended on who it was, (as with most things sexual), but given the right circumstances, I could do a MFF without hesitation.

Late that night I was put away. I was a sex slave, after all, not on an equal par with either Emma or Eric. They'd let me sleep in the bed earlier, but they drew a line and weren't going to let me share their bed at night.

So I went into the closet again. The second night. It was somewhat familiar this time, I'd been there before.

I would have masturbated in the closet, but Eric had strapped my arms behind me. I did find something to rub my clit on but never reached orgasm.

I had food and water in the closet and a buck for pee and the newspaper on the floor to make sure I didn't splatter on the flooring. Sleep came more easily and while it was uncomfortable that night, I still got a few hours in before Eric opened the door and let light in the next morning.

"Release day," he announced. With his help I managed to get up (my legs were sort of cramped from not being able to stretch out all night) and walk out to the dining room where breakfast was waiting. 

He removed my gag and had me sit down.

"We got some really good photos, take a look." He began to show me the photos he and Emma had taken. I was to be paid $500 for these.

It turned out Emma was really the photographer and Eric was the rigger in the family. Her photos were good.

It was strange though. I'd let a couple of boyfriends take nudies of me in the past, but these were ore professional, and when I looked at them I realized these were maybe, possibly, going to be sold and seen and masturbated to by countless men. It gave me very mixed feelings. But it was done. I wanted the money.

We had breakfast together. I was still naked while Eric and Emma were clothed; I was still wearing a collar and leash and wrist and ankle cuffs. It very much reminded me of my place.

Finally Eric had me get dressed.

"I have a present for you," he said. "A thank you for this weekend."

"Cool," I said, happy to accept whatever he would give me.

It started with a $500 check. There was a sense of satisfaction in that, though at the same time I wondered if I was being short changed. It seemed worth more to have my cunt and boobs permanently captured and spread out and sold for ever. That $500 bucks would last a couple of months and be gone. The images they had taken would live on for a long time.

I was wearing a dress I had left there earlier, not the clothes I had been kidnapped in.

Eric proceeded to unlock me, remove my collar, but he replaced it with some transport restraints of a sort. Shackles. Metal chains that locked my ankles and wrists; enough length I could walk but not run and my wrists were still shackled behind me. 

We walked out to his car. I had this strange sense of melancholy. I had been part of his household, a sex slave, dependent and subservient to him for two days. It felt wistful... going back to my old life.

We drove to my neighborhood (I actually lived in a different city than Eric). He stopped two blocks away from my apartment.

"The key to your shackles is under the potted plant in front of your door. The shackles are my gift to you, a thank you for being my sex slave. Let's do it again sometime."

I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

"Maybe," I said and got out of the car. Walking down the street in shackles felt weird and was sort of a parting humiliation from Eric. Yes, several people stared, one woman asked if I was OK and needed help, ('No, I am fine, thanks"), and sure enough the key was under the pot.

I removed the shackles and went inside, took a shower, and collapsed on the bed. 

Apparently I had a rather strong "freshly fucked" face when I arrived at work the next morning. A couple of the guys commented ('oh, you got some over the weekend, eh?').

The shacks were were worth about $100, which made them a decent gift and I still have them in my toy drawer.

(Names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent).

Kidnap Memories

Last night I was in bed alone, relaxing and letting my mind wander across thoughts and memories as I fingered my clit idly. 

My girlfriend was gone for the night, off visiting a dominatrix she frequents that gives her some of the more intense humiliation and abuse she craves. As you know I am no longer a 'Slave Bride', the divorce ended that some time ago and I am now in a relationship with a wonderful woman. The only downside is that we are both submissives, so she seeks satisfaction elsewhere at times, as do I.

I was thinking about her, what was she doing right then? Was she servicing the dominatrix, tongue buried deep, trying her best to meet her domme's demands? Perhaps she was locked in a closet, in the dark, isolated with only a dog bowl of water to keep her company?

She might even be holding an enema as the peristalsis cramps hit her and she begs for permission to release (denied, of course).

Thinking of my dear girlfriend suffering at that moment was arousing. I sort of wished I could be there to watch. Was I jealous? Maybe a little, but we have our arrangements and that means I can also indulge myself in ways she isn't a part of. Tradeoffs.

I am pretty good as a switch but I can't give her all she needs. She's very picky about the type, style and intensity of the domination she submits to. 

At times I enjoy joining her as a woman dominates us both-- it has become one of my favorite things to do in recent months. The woman we have as a mutual dominatrix is a bit of a newbie, but she is learning. And she has the basics of what she needs-- a sadistic spirit.

But that weekend was for my girlfriend to be with her old favorite, a woman who truly gets off on watching my dear girlfriend suffer.

And so I was alone, laying there naked in the semi-dark, sheets kicked down, fingers between my legs, imagining the moans and cries of my girl. My mind eventually slipped into other memories, of when I had spent weekends in long sessions. Kidnap scenes.

So... as I masturbated I reminisced about some of those early days. The memories were actually quite arousing, and I've decided to tell you about one of my early experiences with a dominant I had when I was young. A guy who mentored me, who helped me really identify what my kink was. And coincidentally, I also had my first kidnap scenes with him, long ones that lasted a weekend.

This first real dom was truly experienced, with whom I ended up spending quite a bit of time, was a married man perhaps 14 or 15 years older than I. Let's call him Eric (not his real name).

Considering I was just barely legal at the time (still a teenager), he wasn't actually that old and had a fairly good body (though he wasn't that good looking). He ran a pool cleaning business during the day. His wife served as his regular submissive and rope partner, they both enjoyed playing with bdsm and related kinks. She was cute, and I liked them both. Let's call her Emma.

Eric actually trolled me and hit me up online, back when social media was in its infancy. He had been looking for women that appeared open to alternative lifestyles. I presented a sort of goth or metal babe appearance back then.

We wrote back and forth and flirted online, and quickly became aware that both he and I were into rope and bondage and he asked me if I wanted to come over and try some things out.

He shared some pictures of what he did, of his rope work. He was active in a local kink club chapter and did rope demonstrations a couple of times a year.

It wasn't hard to convince me. 

"So you have no boyfriend who ties you up?"

"Myself at the moment, bozo. Why, you offering to do it?"

"Sure, if you are up for it. You've seen what I do. I'll go easy on you. Emma will be there. Safe and sane, you know?"

"Yeah, um.... OK. This weekend?"

"I work until four Saturday, how about 5? Oh, and one thing. I have a fetish for heels. You might have noticed in the pics. Heels are required."

"What? You are kidding. I hate heels."

"Eh. Heels required. They are my thing. I will negotiate whatever else, but you gotta wear heels."

*sigh*

"I don't even own any. I'd have to buy some."

But I wanted to do it. I was tired of tying myself up, and it was clear Eric could do it well. And the fact his wife would be around made the whole thing a lot safer. Eric lived in a different town and I wanted to be safe.

I finally agreed. While self bondage is fun there is nothing like being truly helpless and at the mercy of another. I agreed to go meet with him and let him rope me up.

As I mentioned, this was back in my goth phase. I had long black hair (still do) and wore black a lot, including the big boots. The heels thing bothered me. But then, everybody has their fetish, their style, and this was his. God, I hated heels, they were antithetical to my entire style . but I agreed. I had to actually go out and buy a pair of heels just for him.

Suffice it to say my first session with him was a roaring success. He restrained both his wife and I (to make me feel more comfortable with him, I think). She was more experienced than I, though I was fast catching up. The heels were awkward and felt weird but once I was bound and tied to Emma (I rather liked that), and she was also wearing heels, I began to just forget about it.

He was careful not to break any limits, and to gain my trust. 

The first time he did me completely clothed, like, making me feel safe since I was new to him and all. It felt good to be helpless. He tied me tight and took his time. Wrists, elbows, waist. He left my legs free. I think he was easing me in because he didn't want to freak me out.

I had used ropes for self bondage and had been tied with ropes (though cuffs were more common with someone else). I was finding I really liked ropes the best.

The second time I agreed to mostly strip, though I insisted on wearing panties. It was a subtle way of telling him that while I was naked, he couldn't fuck me. Though he did fondle my breasts quite a bit and held me. He liked to hold me as if he were hugging or caressing me while I was tied up.

One night late he was chatting with me. I was at home and we were talking just about bondage and our kinks and stuff. He'd tied me up a few times by then and we shared experiences. He had more experience than me, of course, though he really liked being able to talk to me and get the woman submissive's perspective.

"Have you had your elbows tied back all the way, touching?"

"Yeah, hell, you did that. Don't you remember?"

"No, I tied your arms, but your elbows weren't touching. You done that?"

"Um, yes. Why, you wanna try that? Does it hurt?"

"Ever worn an armbinder?"

I had, but only once.

"Yes. Sure."

"How long was the longest you wore it?"

I was young and trying to impress my dominant. I'd only worn an armbinder once, and it had been on maybe ten, fifteen minutes.

"Um, not sure, but I'd say two hours," I lied. Armbinders are a piece of equipment I knew about but had very little experience with. They can be expensive and only people seriously into bondage buy them. 

The next time we had a scene he had an armbinder, one that was significantly more restrictive that the one I had worn before. When strapped and laced tightly it forced my elbows together behind my back so my forearms were touching along with my elbows. It also had straps around the shoulders and neck so I couldn't wriggle it off.

Damn that thing was restrictive. I hated it... and loved it. Especially the way it forced my boobs out in front of me as if inviting someone to do something to them.

He left me in it for over an hour and let me tell you, that was tough.

"Please, Eric. Please take it off."

He ignored me. He was doing something else, tying up Emma or something. 

"Pleeeeaase... it's cramping!" I cried out. I had tipped over onto the floor but it didn't matter what position I was in, it felt the same.

"Shall I give you something to distract you?" He offered.

"No!" I quickly said. I had learned last time that distractions were typically painful.

"Well, what will you do for me if I take it off?"

Staring at his face, I finally sighed and said, "I will blow you."

Eric considered the offer, slowly. "I don't want to be pressuring you. This has to be your choice."

"Yes, yes, I will suck your cock if you let me out."

"OK." He took his cock out and presented it to my face.

"No, no, take the binder off first!"

"Nah," he put his cock back in his pants.

"Oh shitshitshit, OK!"

His cock brushed my lips and I opened them, letting him slide in.

This was the first time I'd sucked his cock. You might think I was being coerced or forced, but he knew as did I that I had a safe word and I wasn't using it. I had chosen not to use it. Of course, I knew if I used the safe word the entire scene would end and I was actually really enjoying being restrained, in spite of the pain.

So I slid his cock into my mouth and sucked, moving my tongue along the bottom of his cock and letting it go down my throat until he ejaculated. He pulled out suddenly (I could feel his contractions starting) and spurted semen all over my face, producing a lot of cum. His wife watched from across the room where she had been tied to a post.

True to his word, he removed the armbinder.

I still had heels on, though, damn him.

You have to realize how weird the heels were for me. There I was, 19 years old, I think I had worn heels maybe two or three times in my life. Most of the time I wore boots or running shoes. I even wore boots when I went to prom. Heels felt fundamentally unnatural to me.

On the other hand, they also became sort of a sign of submission. I did something for Eric I would never do for another guy or in another situation. I debased myself, catering to his whim, wearing heels for him so he could get off on humiliating me.

I'd bring the heels with me when I went over to his place. The first thing we did when we would begin-- I'd take off my regular shoes and put on the heels. From that point forward, I was his. It was symbolic of my submission.

He wanted me to get ballet boots at some point. I was a student and couldn't afford equipment like that, and said no. He could buy them if he wanted. He said no. He had bought the armbinder, and that was enough of an expense for now.

Eric and I talked at least once a week, sharing experiences and ideas. He had other women he tied up (most older than me) and he had begun taking of photos of them. He did this enough he had the idea he could sell the photos and basically start his own small porn shop. He shared some of the photos of he had taken with these other women, of him and Emma with other women.

"Do you pay these other women?" I asked one night. He seemed rather vague. "Sometimes if a woman wants to be paid, yeah, I will give her some money. A lot will be like you, they just like to play and have fun."

"But you are taking photos. I also know you want to start selling photos. What's going on there?"

"I just arrange and agree with each girl beforehand what the rules are. I pay any girl a modeling fee for photos if she agrees to let me sell them later."

"You'd pay me?" I was habitually short on cash back then. 

"Yeah, if you'd let me take photos that could be resold later."

Two weeks later I agreed to let him take photos of me. $500. It doesn't seem like a lot now, but back then it made a serious dent in my expenses, and it was all he could afford, Neither of us had a lot of money.

"So... let's do a shoot, but how about we combine it with something unique and fun?"

"Ohhhh?" 

"A kidnap scene. Realistic. Emma and me will kidnap you, have you be our slave for a weekend. We keep you tied up and restrained for the weekend and make you serve us."

I didn't want to admit it but the proposition was intriguing. He'd described the fact he'd done this with a couple of other women before, and it had fascinated me then. I could really see myself sinking into subspace and just living there in that condition for a while. Actually becoming a slave in my mind, giving up on being free.

It took some preparation. A weekend when nothing else was going on for any of us. A more detailed discussion of limits; we'd been doing things for a few months now and he was familiar with my limits but the kidnap scene, well, it needed to stretch the limits.

For example, Eric had never fucked me. I'd sucked him off a few times, but he'd never fucked me.  I gave permission for him to fuck me any way he wanted. The types of restrains expanded, the fact he could physically hurt me (as in torture or punish me, which he'd not done before other than thrugh bondage techniques). A lot suddenly changed.

Arranging the kidnap was also detailed out. It would have been more fun if I didn't know when it was coming, but for safety reasons that was a bad idea. We needed it to happen in a place where no one would observe and think it was real. 

Regardless of the planning, I was still surprised. I was to be kidnapped from my home on Friday evening. I figured they'd do it around bedtime, maybe when I was trying to go to sleep (I didn't think I'd sleep knowing I was about to be kidnapped). but nope, they came early in the evening, right after I got our of the shower.

One moment I was drying myself off, the next I had a burlap bag over my head and my arms were being pulled back and wrists tied behind my back. It happened fast and within seconds I was helpless, pushed to my knees and dragged out of the house. Eric had a van for his pool cleaning business and I was stuffed in there in short order. Naked. Tied. A bag over my head. And terrified. I didn't think I'd be scared, because I knew what was happening but for some reason I was scared anyway.

An hour drive in the van. They'd tied me wrist and ankles then tied the wrists to the ankles in a makeshift hogtie. I could roll from side to side, but that was all. I was helpless.

Things quickly deteriorated, so that I knew this wasn't like the last times I had played and done scenes with Eric and Emma before. It was brought home clearly when I was struggling and fighting in the back of the van and Eric slapped my face, hard. My head was still in the damn bag so I never saw it coming. My head jerked to the side, and my ears rang from the impact. all of a sudden the situation became very serious. I was stunned and quieted down quite a bit after that.

That hit-- I wouldn't call it a slap, it was open handed (I think, I couldn't see) but it was hard and made my head reel. It changed my entire attitude. Shit was getting real.

As I lay naked and tied in the back of the van, cold metal floor against my flesh, unable to move-- I began to think. Wild thoughts. What if this wasn't Eric? I hadn't seen him. It would be a remarkable coincidence if I was kidnapped by someone else the exact day I had agreed to be kidnapped by Eric... but it was possible.

Fear shot through me. It was cold, like a cold steel sword sinking deep inside my stomach.

No, it couldn't be. And it didn't change anything. I couldn't do anything about it now, I was tied tight in a van going someplace. 

The van stopped and the back doors opened with a clunk. Hands grabbed me and pulled me out. My ankles were untied. Panic struck me and I tried to run but was jerked back. I hadn't realized they had slipped on a collar with a leash. That collar and leash stuck with me the entire weekend and never let me escape, even when I had my wrists unbound.

"Behave," growled a voice. It was Eric's, I was pretty sure. It calmed me a bit, but I was still scared. Led into a house, unable to see anything, I stubbed my toe and hopped, howling.

Led to a place where I was made to stand, my wrists carefully unbound but rebound to a bar in front of me. Still secured, unable to escape. 

Then the tit clamps. Damn. I could feel him grab my boobs. I have largish breasts and he grabbed and pulled the right one up so the nipple was pointing upward. Then I felt the cold clamp go on. Hot damn, it hurt. I yelped and cried, but the same thing happened to my left boob. Lifted. stretched up, then clamp on the nipple, and pain. 

Yeah, the nipple clamps hurt like hell because they were stretching my breasts up and pulling, plus they were tight as hell and brought tears to my eyes. I whimpered and begged, to no avail.

Standing on my toes helped, but I could not do that forever.

The bag came off my head, thank goodness, and the air felt cool and fresh and I breathed in deeply (ouch boobs moving my clamped nipples). I shook my hair out (it's rather long) and saw Eric standing before me. I should have felt relief that it wasn't some stranger, and I suppose it was good but I was still feeling fear down deep and the pain in my nipples was clouding my perceptions. My wrists were locked up and I couldn't get to the clamps which turned out to be a dress hanger. I was in a closet, the dress hanger clamped to my nipples and wrists fastened to the closet clothes bar.

"Glad to have you, welcome to your new life as a sex slave. Not quite ready to do anything with you yet, you need to just hang out here for a while."

Eric grinned then left me there, literally hanging from a hanger in a closet.

It was sheer torture. I'd had nipple clamps before, enough to know how they worked and the sensations involved.

But my boobs are heavy and were pulling down and those clamps were tight. I tested them a bit, pulling down to see if I could get them off. All that did was stretch my breasts and create more pain, so I stood up again. 

I also learned then that some hangers have tighter, stronger clamps than others, and these were tighter than I'd ever had.

There was no clock visible and I don't know how long I hung there. Eric and Emma were going about their business in the house, basically ignoring me. I was the sex doll in the closet, stored for future use.

The pain was terrible, but numbness began to set in, making it a bit easier. Except I also knew that numb was not good. Numb meant insufficient blood flow and damage. I wasn't gagged, so I begged whenever I could, asking for the clamps to be taken off. I was ignored.

I realized I could take the clamps off myself, I was able to move enough I could pull straight down. I tried it, and my boobs stretched up, pulling up with the clamps that held them in place. And it made them hurt ten times as much. It brought tears to my eyes, and eventually I realized my breasts were large enough I'd have to lower myself quite a way before putting enough pull on the clamps, and every extra inch made it hurt that much worse. It was better to leave them on.

And of course, if I did get them off, Eric would probably just clamp them right back on.

I have no idea how long I hung there, but it was probably about 45 minutes. I'd never had clamps on that long before, and I'd never stood motionless in place that long before. (I worked as a waitress at the time and was constantly moving at the job). It was hard, my legs began to cramp and I shifted around, moving as best I could to relieve cramps. Unfortunately that also pulled on the clamps harder and hurt, but there was no choice.

Finally, the clamps came off, and I screamed. They hurt twice as bad for about a minute or two as the blood rushed back in to my poor flattened nipples. 

"Time to be used, baby," Eric said. He knelt down and lifted my feet one at a time and put the high heels on. A core part of his ritual. He then tied my wrists and elbows behind me, leaving my legs free to walk about. I still had a collar and leash on with which he could control me.

Eric pulled me out of the closet, walking into the living room and into a room we had used in the past for bondage scenes. It had some equipment in it, as well as a couple of chairs and eye bolts in the ceiling for suspensions and the like. I trotted along, accepting my fate.

I'd entered a state of subspace by then. In fact, I think I'd entered subspace back in the van when he first hit my face. My mind was accepting my fate. The world had shrunk and I was simply trying to keep my abductor happy. I was kidnapped, under his control, subservient, lost, a sex slave, going to be used and abused and my focus was on simply enduring and trying to obey and please.

His hand went to my shoulder and pushed me down on my knees. His cock came out of his pants. I'd had it in my mouth a couple of times by then and was familiar with it. It was erect, hard, ready. Obediently, I opened my mouth but hesitated to take it in. 

In response, he slipped his belt off, wrapped it around my neck and jerked me forward, my face smashing against his cock and balls. "Suck it, bitch. Or do you want to spend another hour in the closet?"

"No... please..." With that I opened my mouth wide and his sizeable cock slid in. He used the belt to jerk me closer until his cock was all the way in, balls deep and more. It went down so far I thought I could feel it press against my vocal cords. It expanded and filled my throat, I couldn't help but clamp down and try to expel it, which caused me to gag and my stomach pushed stuff up.

Of course he didn't mind if I gagged and barfed, that was just lube to him and he liked seeing me gag. The slime from my stomach surged up and drooled out as he began thrusting. His cock stayed deep, sinking deeper with each thrust. I didn't have to do much except try not to bite down and not die from asphyxiation.

I was 19 and no stranger to blow jobs by then,  though this was perhaps one of the most forceful and deep throat ones I had dealt with. Eric wasn't holding back.

Between my arms being bound behind my back and the belt around my neck, I was pretty much at his mercy. I took his cock deep as much as I could, choked, gagged, gasped for air when I could. He kept his cock in long enough my head pounded and I began to see spots in my eyes.

I did my best because the faster he came, the sooner this would be over. Whether he was holding back or not I don't know, but he didn't come fast. There were a couple of times I saw spots because of lack of oxygen and desperately moved my head to get some bit of air in.

He never did cum; Emma came in and said, "Oh dear, you are using the sex slave. Dinner is ready. Can't you finish with her later?"

Eric pulled out and let me sink back, then fall over onto the floor, gasping and thanking fortune that I could breathe again.

"This bitch vomited all over me, let me clean up a bit. And put her away."

Putting me away consisted of Eric finishing up with a really tight hogtie. Eric was always proud of his rope skills and loved to use them. He could tie me up so I would never get loose in 100 years, but still had limited abrasions and just basic rope marks.

He spent a solid ten minutes roping my ankles and attaching that to the wrist restraints (which were damn solid as it was). My elbows were touching behind my back (a strain which would grow worse with time) and legs bent. 

I also got a very nice red ball gag. I'd worn it a couple of times before in previous (short) scenes. Thank goodness he washed and disinfected it between girls. What a thought... I was one of a chain of girls Eric used and abused. That gag had been in many other girl's mouths.

Eric and Emma had dinner at their dining table and I was placed nearby. I could smell the roast beef dinner she had cooked (I think it was leftovers but still pretty good) and wow I discovered I was hungry. And thirsty. I made noise through the gag asking for something to drink, but was ignored. Eventually, Eric leaned over and said, "The slave is making too much noise. Should I bag its head?"

"No, dear. Give it a chance to calm down. It's probably hungry." I was being referred to as 'It'. The threat of the bag over my head did indeed calm me down. (Though it was clear Emma was being a lot nicer to me than Eric; she was actually restraining him a bit, for which I was grateful.)

I had expected Emma would not be a significant part of the kidnap weekend, but she was fully into it in her own way. While it was Eric that did most of the tying and torture, Emma was right there by him, treating me like a kidnapped slave. It really impacted my mindset, making me feel less and less human and more like just owned property. I was in subspace, and deeply enough that I didn't realize I was in subspace.

It was during dinner, when I lay on the floor hogtied, that Eric took the first pictures. I had totally forgotten that was part of the deal. He was paying me $500 to take photos he could actually sell. 

When he pulled that camera out and started taking the photos it hit me hard that I was naked and restrained on the floor and these photos were going to be sold and viewed by god knows how many people, men, who would mostly masturbate to them. It felt incredibly odd. It made me feel even more vulnerable. It was like being tied up in front of a large room crowded with men, all with the dicks out, stroking, as I struggled in front of them. I couldn't see them, but they were there.

Eric had ball gagged me just before they started eating, so I was drooling and mostly on my stomach. He took photos of me from a couple of different angles (I made nasty grunting noises showing my displeasure through my gag, which he ignored).

Of course all these photos were of my bum and the arms and legs bound. He did get low for a couple of face shots, but then used his foot to roll me over onto my side so he could get some shots of my front.

I hadn't realized how humiliating it would be having my picture being taken while tied up like that. Exposed. Eric made a point of getting me from all angles. Up until that point I had engaged in lots of sexual activity and nudity in front of a variety of people. I'd even allowed photos by boyfriends and the like, but never with the understanding these would be sold and passed around. 

After twenty-five snaps or so Eric and Emma cleaned up their dinner table. 

Eric brought out two dog bowls, nice metal ones. He must have bought it just for me because he didn't own a dog. The first bowl he filled with water. The second he filled with craps from his plate. He tilted the plate over the bowl and scraped in whatever was left over.  He then took Emma's plate and did the same. She hadn't eaten as much so there were more scraps.

Bits of beef (the bits he didn't want to eat and trimmed off the edges), some mashed potatoes, broccoli, crusts of bread-- it all got scraped into the bowl in a kind of mush. He slid the bowls over to me and leaned over to undo my ball gag.

"Have a good dinner," he said then left.

Yeah, I knew I wouldn't be getting anything better so I dug in. I was hungry, and that helped.

Eating from a bowl without my hands sucked. I had to smash my face into the food to get it into my mouth, and use my tongue in innovated ways to get pieces of food scooped in. Of course it got all over my face, as well. 

I heard clicking; yes, Eric was taking photos of me eating from the bowl. I gave him a dirty look and returned to my dinner, then drank water from the bowl. That was harder than the food, I had to purse my lips and suck it up. Slow business.

After dinner, I had... needs. The bathroom. 

"Eric, I need to go. Pee. Poop." The ball gag was off, so I could easily tell him. He reacted in disgust.

"Ugh. Yeah. Fine." He untied my legs from the hogtie, a tremendous relief because my body wasn't bent backward any more. Using my collar and leash to encourage me, he had me stand up and follow him to the back. The closet. There was a bucket there.

"This is your toilet. I am not going to be bothered with getting up in the middle of the night or come take care of your needs whenever you decide. Go for it."

He looped the leash around the closet railing and locked it in place. I had some freedom of moment but couldn't go more than a foot or two out of the closet.

For a moment I thought he was going to stand and wait, watching me relieve myself. That was a horrible thought. I'd never had anyone watch me do it, and I hated restrooms that didn't have doors in the stalls, like back in junior high. Fortunately, he left me.

It was still damned hard to do it in a bucket. I had to aim right, and was terrified I'd miss. But I managed to get it all in.

"Eric? I am done! How am I supposed to... clean myself?"

My kidnapper didn't respond. I stood in the closet next to the bucket and waited for a while. It smelled. I hated this. It was a part of the whole kidnap experience I hadn't thought about.

"Errriiiic! I need to wipe!" I called out after a while, louder this time. Still nothing. After a few minutes Eric came back and glowered at me. 

"Don't call me that. I am master. Or yes, sir."

"Sorry, sir. Sir, can I wipe myself?" I tried to be submissive. I tend to be a little overbearing in my normal life so unless I am in subspace I can be a bit feisty. I had slopped out of subspace during the whole bucket ordeal.

"Emma and I will wipe you. Come," Eric said. OK, that was going to disgusting and a little humiliating. 

They actually gave me a really thorough cleaning, wiping my butt, cleaning my pussy, making sure I was pristine. I realized why a moment later. Eric wanted to fuck me.

As many times as I'd submitted to being tied up by him, he'd never fucked me. I'd given him a couple of blow jobs before while tied in rather uncomfortable positions, but I'd never agreed to allowing him to fuck me.

This time, arranging for the kidnap scene, I'd agreed to let him fuck me in whatever way he wanted. 

Emma had the camera this time. I knew she took photos and enjoyed it, in fact Eric was the rope artist and liked to let Emma take the photos (when she wasn't tied up as well).

I was dragged by my leash (strange how I had come to think of it as 'my' leash) into the bedroom, a place I hadn't been before.

Once again Eric tied me up, roping my elbows to my knees, and my wrists to a rope around my neck. I'd never been roped that way before, it was an odd and very uncomfortable position, and bent me so my ass was up in the air, exposed nicely. 

I have to say I didn't cooperate during this. I struggled, and Emma had to help hold me in place as Eric threaded the rope and pulled it tight. I must have been struggling hard, too, because I was sweating a lot by the time he was done and I was immobilized. My mouth was filthy, too, as he pointed out. He threatened to make me pay for insulting him and calling him names; I didn't care at that point.

They both photographed me in that position, and while they did, Eric stripped. This was a little unusual, it was most common for Eric to remain mostly clothed during our bondage sessions, though he's drop his pants to let me give him a hand job or suck him. This time he stripped completely.

Kneeling behind me, Emma got a few shots of what I assumed was his hard cock before I actually felt the tip sliding along my pussy lips.

"Damn, you are a little slut, aren't you?" Eric laughed derisively. "You are wet. Dripping wet."

Yeah, he was probably right. I fucking love being tied up and he did a damn good job of it and my pussy was actually aching to be fucked.  He teased me for a moment, sliding the head of his cock along my lips, and then pushed in. It slid in easily, making me grunt as the large appendage spread me wide and I felt it hit my cervix.

He grunted too. It was the first time he'd fucked me, sort of a milestone for us both.

After sliding in and out slowly a few times and enjoying the feel of my pussy he began pounding, which was difficult. I mean, I love being fucked hard, penetrated and stretched and bruised and dominated by a male, but it still made me grimace.

Emma had been floating around during Eric's gradual approach and penetration. It was a little weird, I'd never fucked a married man with his wife looking on, though by then I knew Emma well enough it wasn't tooooo weird. She'd been taking photos this whole time, and did it in a way that I almost forgot she was there.

Once Eric got going, though, I was grunting and panting a bit, even whining because he was going so deep and so hard. My boobs were flopping a bit because my body was bouncing back and forth. (I have largish boobs). Eric reached out and grabbed them, keeping them in place and using them to hold me steadier as he rammed me.

Emma saw I was having trouble; well not trouble but that it was rather intense for me. The position I was tied in was very restrictive and I kept feeling like I would fall over, losing balance, even though my knees were spread. So Emma moved to in front of me, taking my face in her hands in sort of a gentle, reassuring gesture.

"Eric's been saving up for this," she said quietly. "We haven't had sex for a week, and he hasn't masturbated. He's been saving up his semen, his sexual energy, just for you. Let him in, let him take you. Yield to him."

It was said in such a loving manner, it actually calmed me a little and I nodded my (bouncing) head for her. It was easy to look at her while Eric fucked me from behind. She knew what I had inside me, she had taken him inside her as well, many times.

I bit my lip, steeled myself, and let him fuck me as hard as he wanted. Not that there was anything I could do about it. I was tied so tight I couldn't have stopped him if he had wanted to slice me up into pieces (which thank goodness he didn't want to).

It didn't last that long, he had been on the verge of squirting his cum before he even penetrated me, I think. He kept it back as long as he could. When he did cum, he pulled out and squirted directly between my ass cheeks. I didn't really feel the hot sperm landing on my anus, though I could feel the sticky a minute later.

"Fuck, that was good," Eric said in a sort of moan. I think he was talking to Emma, because she went back to him. They were both behind me and I couldn't move, so I don't know what they did, but I assume the two exchanged some sort of affection. Maybe a kiss...?

Emma took a few photos of my ass with the semen dribbling down to my pussy lips, and it was over. I'd been fucked as a sex slave by my keepers.

They left me there for a while, the two of them going off somewhere else in the house. 

That act of leaving me there, tied up in this doubled over, bent position with my ass in the air, feeling Eric's cum slowly seep over the outside of my cunt and dribble down my thighs, was humiliating and made me feel like meat more than anything that had happened so far. It was also exactly the kind of thing I craved (and still crave). Tied and helpless, unable to respond to the situation or clean myself up.

I'd lost track of time in all this and hadn't realized it was really late. Like, midnight. Eric and Emma were getting ready for bed, leaving me there on the bedroom floor. Eric took a shower and Emma was removing makeup, doing her hair brushing (she has long, beautiful hair) and that kind of thing. 

"Please... don't leave me like this..." I sort of whined. I wasn't in pain, but I was uncomfortable and deeply afraid they would leave me tied in this very uncomfortable position for the entire night. I'd tipped over on my side, now that Eric had fucked me and left me alone with his sperm. It was still awful.

Eric came over, untied me most of the way then dragged me by the hair (I have long hair) over to a walk-in closet. My wrists were still tied behind my back and my leash was locked to an eye bolt in the closet so I couldn't go anywhere.

"Eric, please, let me sleep in a bed--"

"I told you to never call me that. I am master, or yes sir."

With that he pulled that bag, the canvas bag over my head again. Everything went dark and I was left in the closet alone, for the night.

So I started this post because I had been remembering and masturbating to these memories the other night while my girlfriend was off romping with her dominatrix. Turns out the memories are more detailed (once I get to remembering them) and go on for two days, which is too much for one post. I will have to continue this another time.