R E L E N T L E S S 2
It had happened so quickly, so abruptly in fact that I have only vague
memories of it occurring. I am skeptical as to whether or not it is a dream. Let
me recall...I had just left a small convenience store a few blocks from where I
live. It was a fairly warm night and I was dressed quite casually-shoes, jeans,
and a white t-shirt. I placed my bag of groceries in the back seat of my car and
slid into the driver's seat. I drove through the quiet streets, the nighttime of
the city silent as usual. A large white van passed me on a long, deserted
stretch of road. I watched it pass me nonchalantly. It moved around the left
side of my vehicle and back into my lane in front of me. Suddenly, the van put
its brakes on-catching me completely off guard; hence I too slammed on my
brakes, skidding slightly off to the side of the road while coming to a complete
stop. My heart was pounding and I was quite disoriented. The van was stopped in
front of me and I saw the driver hop out and walk briskly toward me. He threw
the driver's side door open and grabbed my arm painfully, yanking me out of my
car and causing me to fall to the pavement below. Still in a half-daze, I vainly
tried to pull myself to my feet. He, however, wasted no time and clapped his
huge hand over my mouth before I could cry out in protest.
He lifted me to my feet by just pulling on my head with the hand over my
mouth. I attempted to hit my assailant, pull away from him, but he was too
powerful. He quickly released the latch on the van's rear doors and roughly
forced me inside. For a brief moment, I was released, free to move anywhere I
wanted, but only so he could close and lock the van's doors. I was too slow to
do anything at all-before I fully realized that I wasn't being held by the man
any more, my arms were painfully held behind my back and being tied together
with some kind of shoelace material. The same was done to my ankles. He
pushed/pulled my body around the interior of the van until I was sitting against
the right side, my back against the metal plating, behind the passenger seat. He
produced a roll of silver duct tape, pulled off a strip, and brusquely told me
to close my mouth as much as possible. Not able to do much else, I complied and
he smoothed the tape across my lips and part of my cheeks. I sat there in
complete terror and helplessness as he abandoned my body and moved to the
driver's seat, where he started the ignition and shifted the car into gear. By
the time my mind had cleared and I was able to start keeping track of where we
were going, the van had taken several turns and I was no longer sure of where we
were. I tested the shoelace bonds-relatively soft and flexible, yet at the same
time unyieldingly binding my wrists together.
We drove for what seemed like hours, making endless turns onto dark
streets and traveling empty, tortuous back roads. I moaned softly a few times,
squirming around a bit in my helpless position, but it only seemed to amuse my
kidnapper. Streetlights passed the van, illuminating the interior for temporary
seconds, and then fading away once again. The van rocked and jerked as we pulled
onto a rough dirt road, then the movement stopped completely. I sat in terrified
anticipation as to what was next for me-I had no ideas as to what horrors
awaited me. He stepped out of the van, walked around the side, and slid open the
rear doors. The night outside was dark and intimidating, an evil monster
awaiting my approach so it could swallow me whole. My perverted kidnapper
dragged me to the back of the van and pulled my legs over the edge, so my feet
were planted on the ground, after taking a moment to untie my ankles. "Sit up."
I complied as best as I could, pulling myself into an upright position
after a bit of a struggle. "Now stand up." His orders were brusque, as always, a
tone demanding immediate gratification unnoticeable in his deep voice. I threw
my body weight up and forward, lifting myself to my feet with little use of my
hands. He grabbed me around the back of my neck and urged me forward roughly. I
began walking, lead by my kidnapper like a dog on a leash through the dark
woods, like a vulture preparing to swoop down upon my unprotected body. I
lamented softly a few times, the man ignored all of which.
Finally, we approached a small, two-story house. It wasn't a huge
mansion or anything flashy, just a simple house out in the woods. My kidnapper
led me up two dark marble steps to a massive oak front door, which he unlocked
with a key fished from his pocket. The lock clicked and he pushed open the door,
revealing to me a brightly lit room, not quite what I suspected to be taken to
when kidnapped. I was expecting a darkly lit dungeon with iron shackles tethered
to the wall with heavy chains.
I was pushed into the house, stumbling forward a few steps, and then
heard the door close and lock behind me. He roughly grabbed my arm and lead me
from the entrance hallway into what appeared to be the living room.
The room was relatively large, well lit, and somewhat elegant. There is
a crimson red velvet chair in the center of the room, with an oak wood chair
upholstered with a fluffy white material in front of it, bolted to the floor. It
didn't look like I would be hurt...in this room. Unless his plan was for me to
be a sex object...the very idea caused my eyes to well up, but I forced back the
tears for fear that my nose would become stuffy and I would suffocate.
He led me to an open spot in the middle of the room-free of any
furniture-and gruffly told me to lie down. I dropped to my knees and coaxed
myself into slowly falling onto the soft rug, as my hands were still manacled
behind my back. He simply re-tied my ankles together and left. I was abandoned,
left lying face down in the middle of the living room bound, gagged, and alone.
Several minutes later, he walked in. I had never seen him before in my
life, and he looked down at me lustfully. Thinking about what miseries he could
inflict upon me increased my heartbeat and my breathing became a bit heavy.
He kneeled by my feet and looked at them for a moment, then began
untying my shoes and gently removed them. Then, he peeled my socks off my feet,
seeming to take delight in the sight of their bareness. He placed his cool
finger on the heel of my foot and very gently dragged it down the sole to the
ball. The sensations caused me to jerk slightly, as my feet were sensitive to
that kind of stimulation, as I had learned the hard way at a young age.
He withdrew his finger from the sole of my foot and I could feel him
releasing the shoelace binding my ankles together. Finally, I felt the knot
release and my legs were free to move and pivot about normally. I was tempted to
kick him in the head, and run off-but where would I have gone? The door was
locked and my wrists were still tied behind my back, and I also had no idea how
far away from civilization I was. Therefore, I remained still, up until the
point that he began pulling on my pant legs. The message was simple-he wanted to
expose my legs.
Now I wasn't afraid of him seeing my legs-I was quite proud of them, in
fact-but the idea that I was clad in one less piece of apparel made me quite
nervous. I began moaning and begging with him to stop, but they came out in a
series of muffled sounds. He slid them down off my ankles, exposing my tanned
legs to his malevolent gaze. I moaned and whimpered, in vain, my mind racing.
His intent was to rape me, that much I knew. I feared so much-would he kill me
after assaulting me? Keep me around? Sell me to another country as a slave? None
of the choices were more desirable than the other...
He slowly rolled me onto my back, so I was facing the ceiling. His
nimble fingers took the collar of my shirt and tore it slowly, whilst I raised
my head to watch him. He exposed my torso slowly, at a torturously slow pace,
and I knew it was to insult me. He was going to violate my body and he wanted me
to know it, but to suffer in the process. I squirmed around a bit as he did so,
trying to escape his touch, but that only seemed to spur him on. I pulled my
head up and watched as my shirt was roughly pulled from my body and discarded
off to one side, leaving me naked except for my bikini underwear and a bra. The
temperature in the room was pleasantly moderate, but I shivered. My body was
exposed and helpless to this pervert, inviting him to ravish it. I closed my
eyes as he pulled me up roughly by my arm, sitting me down in an ornate velvet
chair nearby.
Before untying my wrists, he attached a handcuff to my right wrist,
securing it to the left leg, then a handcuff holding my left wrist to the right
leg. He untied my ankles and secured each to its corresponding chair leg,
slightly spreading my legs.
I whimpered in mortification upon seeing his next plan. He pulled off
his shirt, then his pants, and socks, and finally his boxers. His cock was fully
erect, standing at about six inches long and about one inch in diameter. He
stroked it lovingly while looking over my body. I was scared, scared that he
would rape me. I looked at him desperately, pleading with my eyes, then moaned
into the gag, expressing my dismay through a muffled plea, but as I did he
squeezed his tool and a droplet of pre-cum appeared. The guy was a bondage
freak, and was getting off just by seeing me bound and gagged.
He slowly lowered himself into the chair in front of me, the fluffy
white one, and looked over my half-naked body with a gleam of desire sparkling
obviously in his eyes. He looked down at my pussy lustfully, hungry for sex, I
assumed. He reached toward me and I closed my eyes, waiting for the gentle
pulling of the waistband of my underwear that signified my vagina's unsheathing.
Instead, I was shocked to feel a light wiggling of fingers against my belly
button area. The reaction was instantaneous-I groaned inwardly and tried to pull
away from his hand. I was unsuccessful. He reached forward, cold hard fingers
grazing my skin as he peeled a small segment of the gag off, then an instant of
pain as he tore the tape from my face. I had not, until this point, realized how
little I was breathing, but with the gag removed I inhaled deeply, taking in
much-needed oxygen. He looked at me, still, admiring my features. Perhaps, I
thought, he could be bargained with. No such luck. I opened my mouth to plea to
him when he tickled my tummy once again. The sensations overtook me and I
released a long string of giggles. With both hands now planted on my abdomen, he
tickled either side of my torso, provoking a useless struggle against my bonds
and another drawn-out string of light laughter. His tickling increased in
intensity, along with my struggling as I pulled and yanked on the handcuffs, but
my struggling like always prompted him to increase his torturous activities. His
fingers found my most tender spots, up along the sides of my ribcage, below my
breasts, around my petite belly button, assaulting me with such torment that I
doubted I could sustain it for much longer. Through my desperate wailing I found
myself begging for mercy, begging for leniency, anything. But, as I could've
guessed, I was his object and my desires meant nothing to him.
And finally, it stopped. I slowly opened my eyes, upon feeling a tugging
at my bra. I was quite mortified to discover him pulling gently at the material
holding the two cups together, but before I could protest he had pulled the bra
from my chest and my breasts were exposed to the cool air. He looked down at
them for a moment, admiring them. I never took my eyes off his, even though his
attention was locked on my tits.
He stood suddenly and disappeared behind me. I could hear a gentle
rustling, a sound I could not identify. I felt his presence behind me moments
later, detected his arms wrapping around me. I assumed he was going to fondle my
breasts from behind, but much to my dismay, I was wrong. In each hand he held a
small pink feather, which he then proceeded to wave against my nipples. My
senses exploded, overwhelmed in a feeling I had never experienced before. They
were sensitive, erected unwillingly by the bondage and tickling, and I was tied
in a manner that pushed them out, as if inviting him to unleash his fury upon
them. His gentle waving then turned to a vicious attack, the fluffy weapons
lethal to my resistance to his tickling. I erupted in a gale of giggles, which
prompted more tickling. Giggles quickly turned to laughter as I pulled furiously
on my handcuffs, frantically trying to escape the torment, but to no avail.
At one point in my torture, I looked over and noticed how erect his cock
had become. If I couldn't convince him to stop because I couldn't take the
torment, perhaps I could appeal to his sexual desire. At the next moment, I
pounced. "Please, stop tickling!! I'll suck you off; I'll screw you, anything!!!
Just stop tickling, I can't take it!!"
He hesitated for a moment, pondering my proposal. I knew the 'I can't
take it' would appeal to the sadistic side he obviously had. I just wish I
hadn't brought up having sex with me, as that, needless to say, was the last
thing I wanted.
I almost sighed in relief when he set the feathers down and walked
around to the front of me. As he moved into position, his dick's actual size
became apparent. I looked down at it in disgust, and that seemed to provoke him,
as he stepped forward and held the tip of his shaft against my lips. I opened my
mouth slowly, letting him slide it into my mouth. It was stiflingly large, but
still I slid my tongue all across the thick cock, sucking my own saliva from his
skin and swallowing it along with the disgusting bland taste of dick. He gently
pumped in and out, lightly fucking my mouth, provoking a light moan of shame
from me every so often. After a while of my sucking, I began to feel it begin to
shudder every so often, and he began to run his fingers through my hair. His
palm urged my head further into his crotch, forcing me to take more of him in. I
had a feeling he was about to come. I maintained my current method of pleasuring
him-keep the spit in my mouth for a while; fondle his cock with my tongue, and
then swallow. His voice was distant sounding, but I could still understand
him-"Harder...suck harder." I complied and his dick suddenly shuddered with
foreboding. I knew what was coming (no pun intended). I also assumed he wouldn't
allow me the dignity of withdrawing before he came. I was right, too-his penis
discharged, a jet of male ejaculate suddenly filling the inside of my mouth.
Fearful of more tickle-torture, I chose to please him-I swallowed the bitter,
thick fluid. I chased that down with a second gulp of cum, then a third, and
several more. I almost threw up several times, but I held it in-the last thing I
wanted to do was make him decide I hadn't pleasured him well enough.
After seven explosions in my mouth, I expected him to withdraw his now
limp cock. Instead, his waist began to sway back and forth-toward and away from
me-fucking my mouth a bit more desire. It was now easier to move my tongue
around his member; it was smaller and not quite as hard. My lips coaxed the
remaining cum from inside his shaft and I cleaned it away with the tip of my
tired tongue. His cock became increasingly hard, I noticed, a result of my oral
pampering.
Finally, his disgusting, half-erect dick was removed from my mouth and
he circled the chair slowly, putting his hands on each of my upper-arms and
resting his chin on my left shoulder. I heard his voice, a raspy and threatening
one, for the first time that night. "If you try to escape, I will kill you." He
sounded like he meant it and I swallowed hard, trying not to provoke him. He
moved to the other side of the room and returned to me, which was followed by
the feeling of his cold hands against my wrists and the metal handcuffs rubbing
gently on my skin. A couple seconds later, my wrists were free, but I dared not
move. I was tempted to cross my arms and cover my bare breasts, but restrained
myself. He kneeled before me and untied my ankles, and I noticed he touched my
ankles a bit gentler then he did my wrists. Probably a subconscious result of
his foot-fetish. I didn't even adjust my position, even though movement was
completely unrestricted.
He grasped both my ankles with his hands and pulled on them. I slowly
began to slouch down in my seat, though I dared not put my hands down to keep
from sliding off the front of the chair. He lifted my feet into the furry white
chair facing me and kept pulling. I pointed my toes and pushed both feet through
the space between the seat and the bottom slat of the chair. The familiar rough
feeling of the brown shoelaces returned as he began to wrap one around my ankle,
securing it to the bottom slat and doing the same to my right ankle. This way,
my legs were spread slightly, but not lewdly.
He walked to my head. Because I was slouching, my head was leaning
against the top slat of the chair I was sitting in. He took both of my wrists
and pulled my arms up and over the backing of the chair, so they were bent over
the top slat at my elbows. My wrists were bound to the second slat up with more
string. For some reason, I tested the knots, but not to my surprise they were
uncompromising. Finally, he took a long string and tied it to the front left leg
of my chair, drew it over my waist just above my panties, and tied the other end
of the string to the front right leg of my chair. It kept my abdomen from moving
anywhere.
He took a few steps back, looking me over. My butt was hanging over the
empty space between the two chairs, though I was quite comfortable. My own
weight prevented me from pulling up on the chair my wrists were tied to; even
so, I suspected it was bolted to the floor.
After a moment, I noticed he was looking at my feet. I could only see my
toes over the fluffy chair slat they were tied to. He retrieved his feathers
from earlier and looked down at my face. I knew what he had in mind. "You said
you wouldn't tickle me anymore!" He smiled subtly and kneeled at my feet. I knew
they were isolated from the rest of my body, and if he tickled them, I couldn't
move them away from his feathers. He gazed at my feet longingly, looking over
them both, top to bottom. His head moved closer to the chair and I could tell he
that was smelling my feet, and the amount of time he spent inhaling them, I
deducted that he was pleased with their scent.
He looked over the top slat at me. "I did say I wouldn't tickle you
anymore, didn't I..." A bit of hope appeared. "Well, I never prided myself on my
honesty." Seconds later, my brain was focused on one thing-the feeling of the
soft quills against my heels. I released a prolonged giggle, exposing a weakness
of mine. Without thinking, I could only say one thing, mixed with giggles:
"Please, oh god no!"
The next sensations I received were the two merciless tickling devices
attacking the arches of my feet. As his tickling increased in vigor, I began
attempting to pull the chair my ankles were tied to away from him, but the bolts
in the floor didn't budge. Only moments later, I folded-my lungs were emptied as
the first series of laughs escaped me. I was bucking and thrashing like a
wildcat, my feet moving all over the place, my toes wiggling and spreading, but
always under fire from his feathers. All that toe movement seemed to attract
him, as he started fluttering the feathers against them-and when they spread, he
slid the feathers into the small crevices and sawing them back and forth
maliciously. I pulled on the chair, pulled on the strings anchoring my wrists to
the table, pulled on everything I could-but to no avail. Every so often, he
would stop, and I would become hopeful-but then it would start back up again,
just as I caught my breath. I didn't know how much more I could take.
Then, he started tickling me with his fingers. They weren't as soft as
the feathers, but they were able to tickle me in more places, because he could
move his fingers to the right position faster than he could with the feathers.
For an eternity, he tortured my poor feet with both his hands and the feathers,
until he finally relented. I was sweating profusely, drained of all the strength
in my body. My head drooped, looking down at my legs and the feet he had just
finished tormenting. I watched in dismay as he kneeled by my legs and took the
band of my panties with both hands and slowly pulled them down my legs, exposing
my pussy. After tearing the flimsy undergarment off my legs, he casually reached
up between my legs and caressed my moist pussy lips, then gingerly sliding his
middle finger inside me. I felt so ashamed, being molested by a complete
stranger who was getting off by seeing me suffering; in the same respects; it
felt so good, as the torture had accidentally aroused me.
He withdrew his finger and walked behind me. I felt his hands on my
shoulders, and then heard his familiar raspy voice. "I wish I hadn't sent my
right-hand man to kidnap you. I wish it had been my hand cupping your little
mouth..." His cold hand stroked my cheek as he moved his palm over my mouth and
pulled back on my head. I could feel his rock-hard cock against the back of my
skull. "Did you scream? Did you struggle and try to escape?" He bent over my
left shoulder and began feeling my soft vagina, stroking it softly with all his
fingers. I had no idea what he was getting at. "That's ok...I can re-enact your
kidnapping, in a way, can't I?" Suddenly, his fingers spidered against my inner
thigh. I released a soft giggle into his palm. He increased in his torture,
slowly picking up speed. I began to squirm about restlessly, until he stopped
once more. Then, the moment I was waiting for-he started tickling my inner thigh
with no intention of stopping. I was unable to pull my thighs away-the string
anchoring my waist to the chair made sure I didn't escape his tribulation. I
didn't know why he held his hand over my mouth so firmly, but I assumed it was
because he was getting horny off hearing my muffled screams. His invasive
fingers soon found my tender pussy lips, sensitive to even the slightest tickle,
and now being attacked with unstoppable might. I did everything I could to
move-my head moved from side to side so violently that I was sure my neck would
break; my feet waved around and my toes spread and wiggled; my fists clenched
and unclenched.
Finally, it stopped, but my heart sank. He stepped over my extended
legs, gently rubbing his engorged cock, looking down at my inviting little
pussy. He leaned down a bit and put the tip of his tool against the crease, the
slid in. The sensation of his rock-hard cock pushing into my wet pussy was quite
pleasurable, I was mortified to discover-I released a soft, prolonged moan. With
his shaft fully inserted, he leaned further over, reaching for my underarms. He
pushed his way deep into my pussy, stroking my armpits softly, and then began
tickling as he pulled back. I let out a string of laughs that increased in
volume as he began to tickle me with even more vigor. I couldn't help but move
around-the only movement my body could muster was a movement parallel to his
thrusting motion. I tried to pull off to the side, but that damn string around
my waist kept me moving up and down on him. His antagonistic hands drew their
way down the sides of my ribcage to my tummy and my senses were overwhelmed by a
new explosive sensation-he was growing so lustful, he had begun tickling my poor
tummy harder than he'd tickled anything else, even my feet. I could no longer
hear anything but my own laughter; breathing was a distant memory of the past. I
wanted nothing more than to end the tickling, so I began to move up and down on
him harder. I could feel my pussy muscles massaging his unwelcome cock. He
launched one final assault on my tender body as he came, sending a load of hot
semen into my pussy. I could feel only two things-the jets of cum shooting
through my vaginal passages, and unbearable tickling. I gasped for breath, and,
receiving none, it was only seconds before I passed out.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry it took so long to finish, I've been quite busy over the
past few weeks, and haven't really had the time to work on it until recently.
I'm not as happy with it as I could be-I think it could've come out better-and I
don't think it is as good as the first one, but I do like it. Then again, I
don't judge that-the reader does.
