Day 11--Sabrina
In the middle of the night, something soft tickled my left big toe.
From deep inside my sleep, I arched the tip of my foot up to get rid
of it. When it returned a few seconds later, my foggy brain cells
ordered my leg to bend and kick, but the leg didn't move. Nor did
the other, stretched tightly in the opposite direction. Reality
check. Time to wake up.
I opened my eyes, surprised to see my naked body pinned to the bed
by various leather straps and bathing in early morning sunlight.
Oddly, I was more surprised by the light than the bondage. So late
already? I yawned uncontrollably, then snapped my mouth shut when I
saw Geoffrey's head and chest behind the bed, a dark silhouette on
the bright window background. He was kneeling right between my
opened legs, one hand on the bed, the other on my left foot.
A shiver ran down my spine when he traced my sole up with his thumb.
Oh no, please, not that. No tickling. I held my breath as I watched
him move closer to my foot, lower his head and start licking my toes,
one at a time.
The sensation was new to me. I had never let anyone get near my
feet. I'm so ticklish, I was always afraid I'd kick the
administrator in the face. Of course, this time I had no choice.
I tried to relax. His tongue was teasing, and it sent ripples up my
leg to my crotch. Geoffrey took my foot in his mouth and began to
suck, slowly, deeply, while my sex responded with mild contractions
following his rhythm.
But then, one of his fingers brushed against the edge of my sole,
and I instinctively tensed and pulled on the chain. He went on
sucking for a few seconds more, then released my foot. Lithe as a
feline, he came onto the bed with his hands leaning on my calves,
then moving up my inner thighs. Another shiver, much stronger, as I
made a futile and useless move to close my legs.
But I was forced to take all the pleasure-building caresses Geoffrey
so generously gave. His hands continued to explore my legs, stopping
around my knees, finding a sensitive spot behind them, stroking it,
then letting go, only to be replaced by his tongue while his fingers
pursued their journey up to my immobilized hips.
Breathing faster, I tossed my head from one side to the other,
trying to release some of the tension accumulating inside. His hands
moved from my hips to my breasts, playing with them while his tongue
trailed along my thigh. I felt him by my side, his hand on my
forehead, his fingers probing my hair while holding me still. And
then his tongue invaded my ear, inspecting every crevice and turn,
then stopping on my lobe. Flicking, sucking, biting.
I moaned as waves of pleasure diffused through my body. My mind
went blind. My sex went mad. It begged for attention, throbbing,
contracting under the increasing frustration created by the void
inside. Oh, to be filled to the rim, that was all I wanted.
But the only part of me that was being filled was my ear, or rather
the other one, as he gently but firmly turned my head over and gave
me the same maddening treatment on the right side.
I was losing my senses and moaned louder. Still, I was too well
trained by then to speak, or even utter one single word. Instead, I
tried to raise my ass up, letting my body do the talking, pleading
for what I could not ask.
When Geoffrey straightened up and let go off my head, I gave him a
look that telegraphed all my hopes and desires. He moved back on the
bed, getting closer to my crotch, which beckoned him to come forward
with an almost imperceptible rise. Then, like a prowling bird that
found its long-awaited prey, he dived headfirst into his target. My
navel.
No shiver here, but a powerful electric shock that left me gasping
for air. My navel, this clumsy sweet little birth memory which, for
reasons I've never understood, is tightly connected to my clit and
vagina. Even when my own fingers barely touch its edge, a star
explodes in my belly. And now his tongue was not just touching it,
but licking it, deep down, threatening to drill a hole and fuck me
from inside.
So many supernovas blew up inside me that the heat I produced should
have been enough to meet the world's global energy consumption for
the next decade.
I began to let out incomprehensible sounds. While his tongue was
tormenting what felt like the core of my body, his hands were
brushing my thighs, coming very close to my wide open sex,
undoubtedly feeling how ready and wet it was, but never giving me the
direct touch I was desperately waiting for.
Fuck me. For heaven's sake, fuck me.
The words repeated themselves in an endless loop in my mind, but I
knew it wouldn't be long until I lost all control and spoke them out
loud.
--Geoffrey--
I smiled as I watched Sabrina thrash. Her navel, eh? Interesting.
This had real potential. So rare that something so sensitive was
also so easily pierced. A ring might make an interesting complement
to the ones I planned for her nipples.
But I was getting ahead of myself, and there was much to be done
this morning. No time to dally, even though her flush cheeks and
rapid breathing gave her away her agitated state of advanced
horniness.
Good. Although it would take considerably more time to teach her to
come at my command, I was impressed by her success in keeping a lid
on her obvious desires.
But I knew just the thing for dealing with a coltish spirit.
After bathing, breakfast and bridling, I led her into the riding
ring and commanded her to run laps around the perimeter while I set
up the caviletti course. Six thin metal bars a few centimeters off
the ground, spaced evenly over the course of a meter, with flags
sticking up from the support bars. Her task would be to trot through
the course at various speeds without knocking any of the bars off
their supports. Focus, discipline and a good aim were the secrets.
But she would have to learn that for herself.
The sun rose higher in the morning sky as I explained the exercise
while I rhythmically slapped the lash of the crop into my hand. At
first, I let her take the course slowly, get her bearings, and figure
out where to plant her hooves to perfect the timing pattern needed to
get through the course. With each successful pass, I had her speed
up her pace. Pretty soon, Sabrina was galloping through the bars at
top speed without knocking over a single one.
I was impressed. No, I was pleased. Very pleased. So pleased that
I let her walk back to the house unimpeded by any bonds and dive into
the swimming pool under her own power.
As she dipped under the surface of the water, I went inside the
house to prepare lunch. Fifteen minutes later, I brought the tray
outside, set in on the table, and called for her to join me.
She sat down, naked and glistening and smiling broadly. Careful,
Geoffrey, I admonished myself. Moment of truth straight ahead.
"Just one day left," I started. "Then you'll be leaving me, I
suppose."
Her smile turned south, and a nervous look creased her brow.
"Oh, you're still worried that I'm going to sell you, that I'm some
sort of demonic white slaver? You've been downloading too many
fantasies from the Internet, my dear. Maybe somebody somewhere
indulges in such activities, but I only traffic in misdemeanors
punishable by fines and probation at worse."
I could almost taste and touch her sense of relief.
"And as you can see, you are free to go now, if you so choose. You
were free to go at the restaurant. Actually, you've been free to go
practically the whole time you've been here. All you had to do was
pretend to be sick, or refuse to eat."
I took a bite of salad and sipped my wine thoughtfully.
"By the way, the pictures have come out splendidly. And the new
case of Merlot should be delivered in a day or two. So it seems our
time together will come to an end. Pity--"
I let the silence hang in the air like a guillotine blade.
--Sabrina--
A chilly breeze blowing from the nearby wood suddenly made me
shiver. At the same time, my head felt hot and dizzy while I was
trying to decipher the meaning of Geoffrey's words. I was free to go
now. Why would he say that? Why now? What about the last day?
"At least I hope you've learned something from your stay here," I
heard him ask quietly.
"Um, you may speak, Sabrina."
I hesitated, unsure of what to say.
"Yes, well...sure I have, but...you say I'm free to go...but there's
still one more day, right?"
"If you choose to leave, it doesn't matter whether it's now or
tomorrow. Might as well be now."
Then the truth hit me like a slap in the face. Geoffrey wanted me
to leave. He had enough of me, needed fresh blood, a new innocent
girl playing victim to his tricks. What fun could I bring him now
that I was tamed?
My mind was boiling while my body turned as cold as a cadaver. I
felt betrayed. Abandoned. An old puppet, broken and thrown away.
"I'll need my clothes back," I said dryly, not daring to think of
where this was leading to. I was so nervous, I couldn't stop tapping
the floor with my toes. In front of me, Geoffrey was an iceberg.
"They're in your room. In the closet."
I got up so quickly I had to hold the table for a second until I
could see clearly again. Then I walked to the house, slowly, hoping
he would call me back and stop me from doing what I didn't want to
do. But he didn't, and I ran up the stairs to find shelter in the
guest room.
Seeing my clothes hanging clean in the closet made me realize how
much I had changed since I had last worn them. I had always assumed
I had a cool, yet somewhat sexy look, but the short white shirt and
black trousers looked tedious and heavy. Not to mention the white
cotton underwear. Girlish. Boring. I wanted my chastity belt back.
Yet I took the clothes and got dressed, all the while rewinding the
film of my stay here, from the moment I had stripped to the pony show
I had been stupid enough to perform that morning. I remembered the
first time he had tied me to a chair, then the Indian pole...the
first whipping, so cruel, yet so useful in retrospect. The cage, the
cross, the candle...suddenly, the idea of returning to the normal
world and finding compliant partners was not so enticing. Who would
understand my needs as well as he did?
Stop dreaming, girl, I admonished myself, he wants you out. Get
this over with.
Geoffrey was no longer outside when I returned downstairs. Neither
was he in the kitchen nor the living room. Looking around, I noticed
the door to the studio was opened and slowly walked down the stairs,
feeling strangely uncomfortable in my flat shoes.
He turned to me when I entered the room.
"Here, these are yours. You've earned them."
The boots. I was about to take them from his hands when my eyes
fell upon the wooden cross in the darker half of the studio. Leaving
him with the boots, I went to the cross and touched it with my
fingertips. As if by magic, I forgot my sorrow, my rage, my
confusion, and let my instincts take over.
My voice was a low whisper, but I knew he could hear it.
"Would you... one more time?"
--Geoffrey--
It was almost impossible to resist throwing my fists in the air as
if I'd just kicked the winning goal in the World Cup.
"What did you say, Sabrina?"
"Um...shit, don't make me...oh..."
I frowned ever so slightly, more from the effort at suppressing a
grin than any anger I felt toward her.
"Yes, please," she said, bowing her head.
"Much better. And you seem to be wearing clothes not of my
choosing. If I were you, I would lose them pretty fucking quickly,
unless of course you'd prefer to spend the night up there."
She sent her shoes flying, then peeled off her shirt, slacks and
underwear in practically a single motion.
"A definite improvement. Arms up, please."
I took my time securing each of the cuffs that were bolted to
various sections of the cross, starting with her wrists, working my
way down to her elbows, her neck, her waist, then her thighs and
ankles.
The pump, I decided after only a moment's reflection. After that,
weights for her nipples, heavy enough to make her eyes water.
Choosing a striking device proved to be more difficult. I wasn't as
concerned about marking her now. But I didn't want to spoil what
might be a lifetime of choices by going too far, too fast.
Then again, this was her decision. Her need. Her dream come true.
I had been transformed from kidnapper to rescuer. An eminently
enjoyable position.
Oh, I knew she would never be mine entirely, because I would never
keep her against her will. But that's the way it works today.
Relationships aren't worth anything more than the mutual benefits the
players derive from being together. Take that away, and the bottom
falls out. Duty, money, social status; all the old marital bondage
had been flushed away decades ago. To be replaced by this kind of
bondage? Perhaps. But now wasn't the time to get philosophical. I
had always known I needed someone like her versus someone like
Brenda, someone who looked at all these trappings as a kinky
diversion, as the next stop on the va-va-voom tour of decadence, as a
fun game to play when the hot tub ran cold. I didn't much care for
the public scene, which reminded me more of ballroom dancing than
sexual dysfunction. I wanted someone who wanted it as badly as I
wanted to give it.
As I stared at my collection of whips, crops and straps, I heard a
loud knock on the front door upstairs.
"Excuse me; this won't take but a moment," I said to Sabrina as I
ran upstairs two steps at a time.
I pulled open the door and started to tell the visitor where to go
fuck themselves. But my mouth snapped shut when I saw two bald men
dressed head to toe in dark leather, surrounding a short Oriental
gentleman in a Versace suit.
"Mr. Sorenson? Hello, my name is Chin Long Kwa. Pardon the
unannounced intrusion. But I understand you are hosting an auction?"
I stared at the guy for several seconds. How had he possibly traced
me from Iwata's server in Hong Kong? Did Dav tell him personally?
Not bloody likely.
"I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about."
"Of course you do, Mr. Sorenson. I have it on the highest authority
that you are auctioning the lifetime services of a young lady via the
Internet. I would like to inspect her before I make my final offer.
I don't think that's unreasonable, given the amount I intend to bid."
"Look, mister, you've got the wrong guy."
"I sincerely doubt that, Mr. Sorenson. Your work, to say nothing of
your reputation, precedes you. May we come in, please?"
"Piss off," I snarled as I started to shut the door. One of the
leather boys wrapped a very large paw around the edge and pushed it
back open. In his other hand was a very large pistol, most likely a
.45 Magnum. A most serious negotiating tool in any business setting.
"I'll ask again, then I'll tell Bruno to shoot off your foot. May
we come in, please?"
--Sabrina--
Footsteps coming down the stairs. Not one pair, but three. Or
four. A crowd. What the hell?
When Geoffrey entered the room, I knew something was wrong, and my
hunch was quickly confirmed when I saw the two bald gorillas, the
short slant-eyed man and the gun. What was going on here? Was it
one of his games? A set-up?
When the evil-looking Asian monkey walked over to me, I felt my
stomach turn upside down. It was bad enough to be exposed in such a
humiliating fashion, but when his hand touched me, I felt like
throwing up. And I probably would have, if it hadn't been for the
huge gag in my mouth.
The man first touched the weights dangling from my nipples and
grinned when he saw me wince. Then he examined me like a piece of
meat at a butcher's stall. My arms, my legs, my breasts, my hips.
Then two fingers inside me. Brutally, unexpectedly.
Panicked, I looked sideways to Geoffrey, begging him with my eyes to
say something, tell me it was just another scene, that I could trust
him, that he would take control in a minute. But his face bore a
mask blocking out his thoughts and feelings. A lump formed in my
throat. He couldn't do this to me, could he?
"Let me see how she reacts to a good lashing. Would you be so kind,
Mr. Sorenson?"
Functioning as if he were a robot controlled by Dr. Abominable,
Geoffrey took one of his whips on the table and got to work.
I tried to resist at first. Maybe they would lose interest if I was
tough enough. But after twenty lashes between my breasts and knees,
I couldn't control the sobbing, thrashing and moaning.
After a nod from the Asian guy, he stopped.
"Good, Mr. Sorenson. This was very convincing."
Then a minute of silence, and a number. I thought it was a code or
something; then, seeing Geoffrey lift his eyebrows, I realized it was
a price. My price. Big enough to allow Geoffrey to enjoy a lifetime
by the pool living on the interest alone.
Two minutes later, they had all left the room, leaving me alone with
my fears. Was Geoffrey going to sell me? He said he wouldn't. Then
again, he once said he would. When had he lied to me?
My indecision didn't last long. Soon, the two goons returned and
untied me from the cross, leaving the pump gag as the only restraint.
But the way they led me, or rather carried me, up the stairs impeded
any escape attempt.
They brought me in the living room where the answer to my question
was lying on the floor. A box, big enough to fit a man, or a woman.
Next to it lay an impressive pile of light brown bandage rolls, about
five centimeters wide.
And no Geoffrey in sight. He and his newfound friend had disappeared.
One of the thugs held me standing upright, squeezing his fingers
around my arms and pinning them against my thighs, while the other
picked up a roll and began to bandage my ankles tightly together. A
mummy. They were going to turn me into a mummy and--my eyes went
back to the box on the floor--put me in that sarcophagus. Sent to a
hellhole in darkest Asia. Geoffrey had sold me.
Refusing to take part in my own capture, I jerked wildly, trying to
kick anything within range. But a violent slap on the face, then
another one on my breasts, knocked me out for a moment, long enough
for them to wrap my legs up to my crotch, binding my hands to my
thighs on their way up. Then, horrified, I watched them proceed all
the way to my neck, crisscrossing the bandage on my chest. When I
thought they were finished, they started again, with a second layer.
Then a third one. Each making the bondage tighter. Unavoidable.
Inexorable. Eternal.
And when I was nothing but a wrapped-up doll, they placed me in the
box where the shape of a body was cut in Styrofoam.
And then the lid. And darkness.
With nothing to hang on to, I wished to die.
Geoffrey hadn't even said goodbye.
--Geoffrey--
I felt terrible leaving Sabrina in the hands of Chin's gorillas, but
I didn't want to tip my hand by complaining about her treatment now.
The crumpled bills felt oily and decayed in my hand. But there sure
were a lot of them. Were they real? No time to worry about that now.
"Thank you for your kind courtesies, Mr. Sorenson," Chin said as his
men carted off the box carrying Sabrina. "I'm glad we were able to
come to such an amenable agreement regarding an early end to the
auction. However, you will forgive me if I take a small precaution
before departing your lovely home."
Chin moved to the front door, opened it, and called out to the men.
Extending his thumb and forefinger, Chin made the universal hand sign
for a gun, then pointed it at my car in the driveway. Four shots
later, the tires were flattened.
"Goodbye, Mr. Sorenson," Chin called as he climbed into the old van.
"Sorry about your tires. I'm sure you can afford some new ones. I
recommend Pirelli."
As soon as the van pulled out of the driveway, I ran through the
house to the back door, then sprinted all the way down to the barn.
If my hunch was correct, they were going to take a scenic route to
their final destination. But even if they drove direct, it was still
far faster to get there on horseback.
I pushed open the barn doors and headed directly to the gun cabinet,
where I pulled out my biggest shotgun, a pistol and a handful of ammo.
"Let's rumble, Thunder," I said as I wrenched open my favorite
horse's stall. Moments later, we burst through the barn doors and
turned west.
I resisted the urge to pray, confident in my heart and my head that
I had solved the mystery.
Within minutes, I eased Thunder to a gentle walk and slowly came up
behind Brenda's house.
--Sabrina--
You have to hand it to the human soul. No matter how far we fall
into that dark pit called despair, we can count on our survival
instincts to kick us out of the abyss.
While I was being transported as merchandise to an unknown
destination, I decided that I had nothing to win by giving up the
fight. Right then, I was completely defenseless, but there would
surely come an opportunity for me to escape, or call for help.
Besides, I had to believe people would look for me. In the age of
global communication and satellite surveillance, you couldn't
possibly kidnap a woman so easily.
I was still encouraging myself with such brave words when I felt the
vehicle come to a full stop. A minute later, my box was carried out,
and, after a short walk, presumably laid down on the floor. I had
little time to wonder why the drive had been so short. The lid
opened and a familiar, unfriendly face filled my restricted field of
vision.
"Hello again, sweetie."
Brenda? Now things were making more sense. But I wasn't sure
whether this was for the better or worse.
"Look at you," she went on sarcastically. "Isn't that exciting?
The stuff dreams are made of?"
I groaned behind my gag, wishing I could spit a direct answer to her
question.
"Oh, I see you don't like it. I suppose you would if that was one
of Geoffrey's games, would you? But you see, Geoffrey has no
interest in you. You were just his toy for a while, that's all.
Whereas me and him, we're a pair, y'know? Two of a kind. He may
argue for the sake of it, but deep inside, he knows he belongs with
me. Or rather, to me," she added, laughing.
"As for you," she purred as she came closer to my face, her
extravagant perfume infecting my lungs. "Well, he sold you, my dear.
To me! Lock, stock and barrel!"
Her hysterical laughter was cut short by a loud noise somewhere in
the back of the house.
"Bruno, go check that out."
When Bruno complied, holding his gun to his chest, ready for action,
Brenda turned back to me.
"Now what are we gonna do with you?" she started. But she was
interrupted again, this time by a gunshot from behind the house.
My heart jumped and accelerated. Events were taking a crazy turn.
It felt like being part of a movie, an incoherent drama somewhere
between Pulp Fiction and The Story of O.
Brenda got up and shouted for Bruno. When no answer came, she
ordered the other bald guy, Johnny, to go see "what the fuck is going
on."
"Chin, a little help here," she barked to the Asian guy. "We gotta
hide her."
Brenda closed the lid back over my petrified body, and the box was
lifted up, then carried to another part of the house, obviously down
a steep flight of stairs if I could judge from the way my head fell
lower than my legs and pressed against the foam. Finally, I found
myself prone and level.
Then nothing. Silence. Darkness. And a little hope, faint as it
was, that perhaps, Geoffrey...
--Geoffrey--
Well, that was even easier than expected, I thought as I reloaded
the shotgun and pretended to point it at the fast-disappearing shape
running across the fields away from the house. I figured it was one
of Brenda's bondage-club buddies she had enlisted to play tough guy,
but he didn't seem too masculine once he got a load of the damage a
firearm like mine could inflict. The tree would survive, but his ego
was probably destroyed for good.
I dismounted and picked up the guy's gun that he had dropped before
turning into the Roadrunner. A peashooter compared to my rifle, but
I could always use the extra firepower. I slipped the pistol into my
back pocket and walked Thunder behind a tree far from the house.
"Wait," I whispered into the horse's ear, praying that all his
training would pay off.
I crept back toward the house and slipped into the shadows between
the shrubbery and the exterior, listening intently to the voices
drifting over from the driveway. When I heard Brenda calling out to
the first thug, who was probably in the next county by now, I
prepared for a visit from his nose-picking twin.
Sure enough, a minute later, leaden footsteps thumped past the bush
where I was hiding. I came up out of my crouch, pulled out my
pistol, put the barrel in my fist, and sneaked onto the lawn behind
my prey as quiet as a tarantula.
I didn't want to hurt the guy, I thought as I aimed the butt of the
gun at the shiny target just ahead of me, but I didn't want to mess
with him later.
Damn. I really didn't mean to hit him quite so hard. But at least
he went down fast and easy. I figured I had maybe an hour before he
came to. Plenty of time.
I made my way to the front yard, but didn't see anyone, or the box
holding Sabrina. So I backtracked to the rear of the house and
tested the back door. Unlocked. Perfect. I slipped into the
darkness of the kitchen, and listened for Brenda and Chin. Down in
the basement. Better and better.
The door leading to the stairs was still open. Here's hoping
they're not armed...
"Hi, Brenda!" I yelled downstairs. "I just stopped in for a cup of
sugar. By the way, you're going to have some visitors in a few
minutes. I had to call my friends in the local constabulary.
Mentioned something about my girlfriend being kidnapped at gunpoint
from my house a little while ago. You wouldn't know anything that,
would you? They took off in a van that looks a lot like the one
parked in your driveway. By the way, who's that bald guy lying
unconscious by the side of your house? Friend of yours?"
--Sabrina--
The silence was extremely unnerving, especially in my mummified
state. I was getting restless, and would have given anything to
scratch my back, or my butt. The fact that both were covered with
healing welts, itching like a million fleas, greatly contributed to
my growing discomfort.
Then, finally, a voice. Geoffrey's. Thank all gods in heaven.
"Chin, behind the door," I heard Brenda whisper.
Geoffrey's ironic comments became louder and clearer as he stepped
down the stairs. But his last question was followed by a loud thump,
a stifled groan, and Brenda's high-pitched voice.
"Sorry, Geoffrey dear, but I really can't let you take her back.
Chin, get the cuffs in that drawer, over there."
Sounds of a body being pulled onto the floor. Metal clicking. A
lock snapped closed. And Brenda giggling nervously.
"Wish I could play with you now, sweetheart, but I'll make it up to
you later. You'll finally get to see what a good dominatrix I am."
In a heartbeat, her honey-sweet voice morphed into to a harsh,
commanding tone.
"Come on, Chin. The police will arrive any minute now. We need to
hide the van. We'll have plenty of time later to deal with our two
guests here."
A heavy door slammed. A key turned into the lock. Silence. Again.
But not for long. Sounds above me. Playing with the lid, bumping
into the box panel on my upper right. Finally, someone kicking the
lid off with a loud crack.
I thought I would see his face above me, but all I could stare at
was complete darkness.
"Sabrina, are you okay?"
I never thought I'd be so happy to hear Geoffrey's voice.
"I'm stuck on the floor, my hands cuffed in my back and chained to a
ring on the wall. But I can move my legs. Now, on the count of
three, I'm going to push on the box and roll it over, okay?
"Hmph!"
"One..."
I felt, more than I saw, his heavy shoes weigh down on the edge of
the box.
"Two...three!"
When the box tipped over, I rolled away from the foam like a stiff
statue and bumped into Geoffrey's legs.
"Wiggle your way over here so I can unlock your gag," he said, half
whispering.
We both maneuvered so that his hands could touch the back of my
neck, and a few seconds later, my mouth was relieved of the awful
pump.
I suddenly felt ashamed of my doubts concerning his intentions. How
could I have thought he would sell me?
"Geoffrey," I started shyly, almost afraid of saying his name,
"thank you."
"My pleasure, Sabrina."
I could almost see him grin.
"But, we'll see about that later," he continued. "We don't have
much time until they return. Here's what we'll do..."
--Geoffrey--
"Brenda! Get your skinny ass down here quick! I think there's
something wrong with Sabrina!"
A few moments passed, so I tried yelling as loud as I could.
"Brenda, you stupid cunt! Do you want to add murder to your rap
sheet along with two counts of kidnapping? Get down here! Right
now!"
I was relieved to hear her heels clattering at the door to the
basement.
"Oh, Geoffrey, I just love it when you're forceful. Pity I'm going
to have to beat it out of you."
"Get your fucking mind out of the gutter and come down here pronto.
I think Sabrina's stopped breathing. Maybe her circulation's cut
off, or the gag's got too much air pumped into it."
"Oh, really?" she said. "Well, wouldn't that be a shame if your
little girlfriend bit the bullet? Gee, maybe I could tell the cops
that you did it to her, and I caught you."
"So what's she doing in your basement? Listen, Brenda, we don't
have time to play Agatha Christie. This isn't a game any more. Get
that gag off Sabrina, then unwrap her. Hurry, before it's too late."
"Oh, do shut up, Geoffrey. You aren't giving the orders around
here. In fact, let me make your new role perfectly clear."
Brenda pulled an oversized ball gag off a hook in the wall, jammed
it into my mouth, and buckled it tight.
"There, that should give you something to chew on. Now, what seems
to be the problem, little Sabrina? Not cut out for the bondage big
leagues yet?"
She kneeled down next to Sabrina and opened the nozzle to the pump,
then unstrapped it from behind her neck.
"Hmmmm, you do seem to be a little blue. Come on, give us a breath."
Don't you dare, I thought as loudly as I could, praying that Brenda
wasn't smart enough to pinch Sabrina's nose closed. I was still
amazed I had managed to get the gag back in her mouth, not to mention
buckled and inflated.
"Well, shit and tarnation. Maybe those idiots did wrap you a little
too tight. And it would be such a pity to lose you before Chin lines
up a proper buyer."
Brenda reached down and began to unwrap the first of the three
layers constricting Sabrina's limbs, moving faster to pull off the
second and third as she began to panic a little.
When she finished, Brenda stood up and gave Sabrina's nude body a
nudge with her toe.
Nothing.
"Oh, fuck."
Brenda knelt back down, positioned her face over Sabrina's and gave
her a quizzical look.
"Okay, remember your Red Cross training when you wanted to be a
lifeguard in high school. Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, what to do
first? Oh, that's right, pinch the nose closed."
--Sabrina--
The plan was easy enough. I had to pretend I had passed out.
Brenda would free me. Then I would take the small gun Geoffrey had
hidden in his waistband, threaten Brenda, and get her to free him.
There were a few unknowns in the equation, such as whether Chin, or
maybe one of the big guys, would come downstairs, or whether Brenda
would try to resuscitate me without removing the bandages.
So far, so good. Brenda was alone, and I was completely free of all
bondage. The hidden gun was just one meter away, almost within arm's
reach. The glitch was that Brenda was in the way, right between me
and the weapon. And now she was going to pinch my nose.
Surprise was my best option, so before Brenda could touch my face, I
used all my strength to push her. But before I could grab the gun,
she jumped on me and pulled me away.
I had never fought anyone in my life, but I learned quickly. All
you need is a little motivation, and I had plenty of that. No time
to bother with niceties; I stuck my fingers in her eyes, yanked her
hair, used my legs to destabilize her. I managed to wrestle her down
to the floor, but she grabbed my arms and we both went rolling until
we hit the box. I kicked myself free and got up, but so did she.
And our catfight went on.
I was getting breathless, my lungs aching from a lack of air, but
something insane had taken control of my brains, and all I could
think of was hit and grab and pull and kick. However, I knew I had
to come up with a brilliant idea before collapsing. While fighting,
I tried to look for a tool that would help me, a prop I could use.
Then I remembered Geoffrey; he was obviously trying to get my
attention.
At that moment, Brenda and I were on the opposite side of the room,
struggling to pin each other against the wall, well furnished with
rings and restraints of all sorts, but I redirected my efforts and
tried to ram her backwards. When Brenda was within Geoffrey's
limited range of action, he tripped her, giving me time to grab a
coil of rope and a ball gag from the wall display. Then I rushed
down to straddle her chest, closing my legs tightly on her arms.
While Geoffrey held her legs down with his, I gagged her, then
wrapped the whole length of rope around her body, moving my way down
to her ankles and hoping my non-professional knots would hold long
enough.
Then I turned to Geoffrey. First the cuffs, I thought to myself,
trying to be practical, but also secretly enjoying the sight of a gag
in his mouth. As I took a small chain holding a pair of keys away
from Brenda's neck, Chin called from upstairs.
"Mistress, Johnny's here. He's all right. Just a bump on his head.
Bruno's gone, though."
A worried pause.
"Mistress? Are you down there?"
And they both began walking down the stairs.
Shit. My fingers shaking nervously, I tried to unlock the cuffs.
Damn it. Wrong key. The other one. Click.
Geoffrey got up in a flash, grabbed his gun and aimed it at the open
door. He had just enough time to unbuckle the gag with his free hand
and remove it before Johnny came in.
--Geoffrey--
"Gentlemen," I barked in my best imitation of a military officer.
"In a few moments, the police will be here. Unless you'd like to be
booked as accessories to a kidnapping, if not attempted murder, I
strongly suggest you turn around, head out the back door, and start
running toward town like your friend did earlier."
Chin and Johnny stopped halfway down the stairs and gaped at
Brenda's bound body with the very naked Sabrina sitting on top of
her, beaming like Sylvester after the cartoon cat finally caught and
devoured Tweety Bird.
"Please don't make me start counting, gentlemen."
Chin started to form a sentence, but then thought better of it, and
turned around.
"Let's go, Johnny. These people are freakin' nuts."
"A wise choice, gentlemen," I said as the pair headed back up the
stairs. "Head due north, and you should reach town by midnight.
While you're walking, I strongly suggest you erase all memories of
this evening's escapades."
"What about the van?" Johnny blurted. "It's rented in my name."
"Don't worry, I'll make sure it gets abandoned in a safe place
tomorrow morning, and you can say it was stolen. Now scoot, before
you have to tell your side of the story to the nice men who wear
multiple weapons as a fashion statement."
I waited in silence for several moments until I was sure they were
off the premises. Then I turned to Sabrina and gave her my biggest
smile.
"Nice going, Lara Croft," I beamed. "You gave Brenda quite the
tussle. She's never going to live this down, you know. By tomorrow,
her little bdsm community will be buzzing with rumors and wild tales
about tonight. Of course, I shall deny everything and anything, but
most of her bondage buddies are scared to even make eye contact with
me."
A muffled yell rose up from the floor as Brenda thrashed against her
bonds, causing Sabrina to bob up and down as if she were riding a
bucking bronco.
"And nice job on the knots, too. You learned your lessons well."
I extended my hand to help Sabrina stand up, and then wrapped my
arms around her.
"So you really thought I was going to sell you, eh? Silly girl."
I leaned down and planted my lips firmly against hers. When we
finally broke for air, I released her with a squeeze.
"Why don't you rummage around upstairs for something to wear while I
prepare our friend here for the trip home?"
"But what about the police? Won't they be here any minute?"
"A bluff, m'dear. But I've got my cell phone in my pocket ready to
speed-dial 911 with the push of a button. Oh, shit. I forgot about
Thunder. When you're dressed, can you please go out back and make
sure he's okay? Actually, you could do me a huge favor and perhaps
ride him back to the barn? I'll pack up Brenda into the van and meet
you there in, say, fifteen minutes? Great."
I leaned over and gave her another kiss.
"Alas for our friend, the night is still young," I said with an
exaggerated wink, causing Brenda to thrash even more wildly against
the basement floor.
--Sabrina--
Searching Brenda's wardrobe for suitable clothes, I was amused by
the numerous extravagant outfits testifying to her bad taste in sexy
apparel. I finally selected a pair of black leather trousers and a
matching short jacket. No need for underwear. But footwear was a
must. I found her impressive collection in another closet, and opted
for ankle-high boots with relatively short heels that would still
allow me to walk a long distance. I was certainly willing to do
Geoffrey a favor, but riding Thunder back to the barn meant much more
than that. Thanks to him, I had conquered part of my fear, but I had
never actually ridden a horse solo. Nor did I feel ready to give it
a go.
Satisfied with my practical, yet elegant look, and hoping Geoffrey
would approve of it, too, I went back downstairs and out of the
house. I heard the dying sound of an engine far down the road and
concluded he had already left. So now it was between me and Thunder.
I found the horse peacefully grazing at the back of the house. At
the sight of him, my phobia returned; perspiration, heartbeat
accelerating, legs shaking, and nausea threatening to overcome me
with each step.
When I was only two meters away from the fierce stallion, Thunder
lifted his head and looked at me. I froze.
"Okay, Thunder," I told the horse, as quietly as I could. "I'm
scared shitless at the thought of you, and I know you can feel it.
But your master told me to ride you back, and that's what I must do.
So please, don't make it hard on me, okay?"
If someone overhears me, I thought, they'll send me to the loony
bin. Yet, foolish as it sounded, my brave talk seemed to work.
Thunder was quiet, almost waiting for me to come closer. I took one
step, then two. Then I touched him, trying to stop the shaking in my
limbs.
"That's it. You're a good horse, Thunder. Now I have to--"
Shit. No saddle, no bridle, no reins; the horse was literally
naked. How was I supposed to climb on him? He was huge!
"All right," I went on, talking both to myself and Thunder. "I need
something to climb on."
I looked around, but not seeing anything I could use, not even a
stump or a fallen tree, I ran back to the house, telling Thunder to
wait quietly, and returned with a chair.
Amazingly, the stallion let me straddle him, and I gained some
confidence that I was going to make it. But I had wasted precious
minutes, and my time was probably up by then.
"Hmm...gee up! Ooh, not so fast!"
I soon found myself leaning down and gripping Thunder's neck to
avoid falling over, praying he knew the way back home.
About ten minutes later, we arrived at the barn; me panting and
shaking like a leaf, Thunder apparently very satisfied with himself.
I let myself down, caressed the horse and thanked him, then left him
unattached, counting on his obviously good training to make him stay
where he was. And I ran to the house, hoping I was not too late
for...well, for what exactly?
Seeing the pool and the uncleared table where we had had lunch
earlier that day, I remembered I had been getting ready to leave.
Then hadn't. Now I knew I wouldn't. And I knew Geoffrey didn't want
me to, either. I shivered a little at the thought of the commitment
I was about to make; not only with him, but with myself. However,
when I walked past the French window into the living room, I was
absolutely certain that this was what I wanted.
--Geoffrey--
"Well, that should keep her out of trouble for tonight anyway," I
said as I came up the stairs from the basement, followed by the
muffled sound of thumps from Brenda as she hurled herself against the
bars of the cage, still wrapped tight in Sabrina's knots.
"As for you..."
I tried to crank back into evil-master mode, but she looked so
adorable in her leather pants and jacket, I couldn't help smiling
like a loon.
"Since when are you allowed to wear clothes in this house?" I
growled with mock solemnity. "Leave them here, then get that cute
ass of yours upstairs and into the bath. Scrub, shave, the works.
Now!"
"Yes, please," Sabrina replied with a grin that matched my own. She
kicked off the boots, peeled off the jacket and slithered her thighs
out of the pants, then turned and trotted up the stairs, swinging her
naked hips like a skinny Marilyn Monroe trying to seduce all of
Hollywood in one take.
When I heard the door to the bathroom close, I went back down to the
basement to select the evening's implements: wrist, ankle and thigh
cuffs, the penis trainer plus blindfold, two pairs of tweezer clamps,
and the bucket of clothespins. Leaving them in the living room, I
headed outside and strolled down to the barn to make sure Thunder was
settled properly, as well as retrieve a container of udder and hoof
cream. Fifteen minutes later, I was clearing the forgotten lunch
plates from the patio table and thinking about dinner.
Sabrina came into the kitchen practically glowing, so much so that I
regretted not putting on her chastity belt. A mistake I would not
make again. I pointed to a chair for her to sit on while I fetched
her anodized panties, plus a pair of handcuffs and a collar.
"I apologize for everything that happened to you today," I said as I
locked her wrists behind her back. "The auction...well, it's a long
story. Apparently, Brenda stumbled onto it while fucking around on
the web, and recognized you. By the way, I know one of the goons,
although I think he used to have hair. Brenda probably sweet-talked
them into shaving their heads; some guys will do anything for a
spanking."
I attended to the pots and pans while Sabrina sat quietly, and most
likely happily, judging from her smile. I had long ago decided it
wasn't worth the effort to figure out a woman's motives. Go with
your gut was my approach. If a girl didn't approve, she would let
you know by what she did, not by what she said. "Thou doth protest
too much" was quite possibly Shakespeare's greatest line, or at least
my personal favorite.
Then again, too much protesting was a main reason I owned so many
gags, I thought as I finished strapping the trainer around Sabrina's
head after we finished eating.
I led her to the living room where the straps lay across the couch
like zebra stripes. I connected each ankle to its respective wrist
so she was kneeling on the cushions with her ass high in the air.
"All mine," I whispered, "to do with as I please."
I reached under her torso and clipped clothespins to each nipple.
The udder cream felt cold and clammy in my hand, but it warmed
quickly as I spread it generously over her flanks, thighs and back.
It would take quite some time to work it into her flesh. But I was
in no hurry. In fact, touching girls was one of my favorite things
to do. I could spend hours caressing their feet, their legs, their
arms, their breasts--oh, especially their breasts--but some women,
well, they just hated it. Like I was torturing them by being tender.
I felt my cock harden as my fingers dipped in and out and whirled
around the puckered brown entrance to her anus. All yours, I
repeated as I unzipped my pants. She would soon get used to being
poked wherever, not to mention whenever, I felt like it. And when I
was around Sabrina, that meant pretty much constantly.
I slapped her ass, hard, when she tried to squirm away. But I liked
the clenching so much, I continued to pepper her cheeks with random
swats.
I came quickly, something I would have to work on. It wasn't like I
wasn't going to get a lot of opportunities to practice.
Satisfied with the smoothness of her backside, I flipped her over
and cuffed her thighs, then padlocked her wrists and ankles to them,
leaving her crotch spread wide.
Next, I clamped her labia with the tweezers, two to each side, and
pulled them apart so her pussy was a defenseless hole, the chains
tied taut to rings on the thigh cuffs.
I scooped out more cream, and went to work on her feet, then her
calves, then her thighs. I guessed I spent somewhere around an hour
on her breasts, both with and without the clothespins.
When I was finished, I turned her around so her head rested in my
lap, and slipped a greasy finger between her legs until I found her
clitoris. She came almost instantly, then again less than a minute
later.
This gave me an idea. I could use a benchmark; something to measure
her progress.
I gave her clit a pinch and began rubbing it as if there were a
genie inside.
Three...
She convulsed and twisted her groin away from my insistent fingers.
"Ah ah ah," I said as I added a clothespin to one of her breasts.
"Every time you squirm, you get another one."
Four...
I reached over and clicked on the television, the noisy cheers of a
baseball game in progress preceding the visuals. Good. Only the
second inning. At least two hours left to play.
Five...
--Sabrina--
Watch out, girl, I grinned to myself while Geoffrey was massaging my
whole body with the strange cream, you're about to be dangerously
happy. This will turn you into one of those dependent females you've
always scorned. So what? Screw my independence. This was good.
No. This was blissful. I had never been caressed so thoroughly.
Each millimeter of my skin was warmed up by his never-tiring hands,
first rubbing the soreness and fatigue off my body, then making it
ready, eager for pleasure.
The bondage was tight but comfortable, and although I could already
feel the strain in my ankles, I could have stayed like that for
hours. Actually, I did stay like that for hours, constantly amazed
at his skill and patience, and with no other option but to be the
receiving end. And enjoy it. For an incredibly long time.
The first touch on my clit had me going in an instant. I was that
ready. But it would take a long time before all the accumulated
tension would find release.
When I convulsed for the tenth time, I no longer knew whether I came
because of the pain brought by each clothespin, or whether the cruel
bite was a direct result of my pleasure. I tried to resist longer,
but all I gained were a few minutes at best. Again my body arched up
and my head lifted before falling back down on his legs. The wave
had barely gone when another one, born on my sensitive hip, made me
moan in agony. Until the pain subsided and went fueling my desires.
Yet the bondage, his fingers on my clit, the erotic pain of the
pins, all powerful as they were, were not the biggest turn-on. What
truly had me going was the fact that I could lie defenseless in a
man's lap and trust him. That I was Geoffrey's "to do as I please,"
and accept it, revel in it. Among the many feelings invading me at
that moment, the sense of belonging was the strongest.
When I was busy in the bathroom earlier, enjoying the invigorating
sensations of warm water after my kidnapping, the fight with Brenda
and last, but certainly not least, my brave--no, make that heroic--
ride back home, I had mused about how odd it was that I could feel so
comfortable with someone I knew so little about. How even odder that
I didn't feel the need to know more about him. Geoffrey's mystery
was part of his charm. And rather than finding out where he came
from, I was more eager to know where he would take me.
Well, the pleasureland I had now reached, in the middle of yet
another spasm, was more than I bargained for.
Gradually, the activities of the day began to take their toll. I
came less frequently, savoring long moments of pleasure that his
fingers, now rubbing more gently, still gave me. There were no
clothespin left, but he had started to take them off, one by one,
while stopping at the same stations of pain and pleasure. It was a
slower process, but time didn't matter.
Eventually the last pin snapped off. I felt blood rush back and
winced one last time. Then, exhausted, I drifted off, turning my
head over to Geoffrey's lap, finding comfort in his warmth and
masculine smell. I remained conscious of his hands, one leaning on
my thigh, the other below my breast, his thumb gently caressing its
side. If it hadn't been for the gag, I would have smiled. Instead I
purred, happy.
