One Too Many Drinks
The girl knelt on the hardwood floor in the empty room; empty except for the wire cage with the fat padlock. She was a blonde now, short, spiky hair with dark roots – in fashion for the crowd she ran with. She had been a brunette and red head – as in scarlet red hair – since he’d been tracking her various incarnations. He didn’t particularly like the severity of her current hairstyle, but that could easily be changed.
“This is how it’s gonna be, Kat Bloom, that is your name, right?” As if she could answer.
The gag prevented her from speaking – the hobble from standing, the blindfold from seeing his face. This was how it would be for a while. He was a great believer in sensory deprivation, which would take his victims down to a core level from which he could remake them to suit his needs.
“Whatever life you had has just been erased. You like slipping into oblivion, well girl, oblivion is where you’ve arrived.”
Kat could feel his body moving around her, shuffling sounds on a hardwood floor. His anxious, feral energy loomed above her, swooping in around her and, if she were telling the truth, tickling her exposed privates – she’d worn a dangerously short skirt to the club that night, no panties. But then, exhibitionists like her love the feel of air on a naked snatch. Kat had been hot all night.
If she weren’t scared out of her wits, she might actually find her current situation stimulating. But this was no ordinary Bdsm scene, this no ordinary dominant man, playing master for the sport of it.
The feel of the ballgag being suddenly ripped from her mouth took her by surprise. Her head jerked, and she struggled to right herself with her hands tied tightly behind her back.
“I saw the drool. Rather unsightly, I think.” He mopped her wet mouth with a handkerchief and started circling again, feet shuffling as before.
“You are kidding, aren’t you?” she finally vented into the otherwise silent room.
He stopped directly behind her. “No. I’m not.”
His imperious eyes – she could feel them on the back of her neck – burned holes in everything from her skin to her composure. She’d make a plea bargain with God, confess every sin, swear off the life she loved – if only He would intervene.
“Please, let me go,” her whispering voice practically shouted. Everything was so quiet, so still, except for his shuffling feet. No sounds of traffic, or night birds singing or honking horns or cell phones. No street music, no conversation, no laughter, no humming computers. All absent. Except for his shuffling feet and his voice – and the anxious pounding in her body, the throbbing beat of rushing blood, the noisy discord of fear.
“Let you go… and waste my entire last two months? I guess, you didn’t hear what I said, did you? Or maybe you just didn’t believe me. But that really doesn’t matter, Kat Bloom. You’ll understand soon enough.”
“I don’t even know who you are…”
“No. You don’t. But you’ve seen me. I’m like a fly on the wall that haunts your club. The least likely candidate for master by anyone’s estimation. The fellow that lurks around the corners of your days, spies on your nights. You’ve seen me often and dismissed me, exactly as I expected you would. I didn’t want to be noticed, so I hung out in the shadows, tiptoed like an innocuous male sub, looking for some mistress’ boots to lick. Waiting. Watching. Until the opportunity for an abduction presented itself. You were there all the while…a statuesque subbie, all decked out in subbie’s garb, taking your beatings like a true submissive, though surrendering only when the mood struck your fancy, flicking off Dominant men who don’t pass muster as if they were annoying insects.” He chuckled darkly, “You’re a real piece of work, Kat Bloom.
“But…you looked so pretty to me that I couldn’t resist. Not your snapping eyes, your sexy swagger, your seductive voice.”
“That isn’t me! That’s just a game I play! Please, let me go.”
“Please, sir, let me go!”
“Please, sir, let me go!” she recited with the proper emphasis, hopefully.
Her black leather skirt was so tight that when kneeling it rode right up her thighs and exposed her dampening pussy. Boy, did it glisten in the soft spotlight that shown down from above. The lacy halter clung to her breasts so tightly that her nipples stuck out like bullets. Spike heels – again her choice – pushed her well over six feet tall when she was standing. Now, tucked tight under her ass, the heels almost looked like daggers.
He’d covered her head with a hood at the time of the abduction, then added the collar after he shoved her into the back of the rented Chevy. She’d been in the playroom with Sir Guy for nearly an hour and was like formless putty when the master left her on the cross to fetch her a drink of water. All he had to do was release the clips, gather her into his arms, and carry her out the back door.
No one saw them leave, and by the time she noticed something was wrong, she was in the car, bound, gagged and weaving through traffic.
She must have still been numb when he carried her from the car into the barn and up to the second floor loft into the room that would become her home. The tethers that roped her ankles and wrists remained when he set her on the floor beneath the spotlight. He’d chosen thick, scratchy hemp because he liked the look, just as he liked the look of a kneeling woman. If he entertained any notion that Kat Bloom was a ready, willing submissive, then he’d be a fool. That would take time. A challenge? Yes. Doable? About this, he had no doubt. He’d accomplished the feat before.
“Let you go…not until I’m finished with you.”
“You can’t be doing this…it’s about my father, isn’t it? You want his money…a ransom… that’s it—”
He cut her off. “That would be easy for you, wouldn’t it? Sadly, my dear, it’s not about money. I have all that I could ever want and need and possibly spend. This is all about you…you and me.”
He crouched down on one knee and gently cupped her face in his hand, feeling the moisture from her tears leaking out from under the blindfold. He tenderly wiped it away with his thumb, and for just a moment could feel her being relent, as if her body wanted to surrender to his scheme.
She’d been drunk – almost literally – downing three stiff ones before she even entered the X-Club that night. This wasn’t normal. She normally didn’t drink before she partied on pain. Not that the two were exclusive of one another, but she usually figured that even sober, she could get enough endorphins flowing to give her a lasting high without the complications of alcohol.
Now her stomach had soured, probably as much from fear as the gin.
And her captor’s hand on her cheek only confused her fuzzy mind even more.
He didn’t want money, he wanted her…was that really true? Talking as if she’d been set up for months…who was he?
The queasy feeling in her stomach grew. He’d stalked her, chosen her from dozens of other likely subs, for what?
“You will let me go.”
“No, Kat,” he said. She could mentally see him shaking his head, “You belong to me now.”
She turned her face away from the gently fondling hand and prayed.