The wind in that wrapped around your body as you stepped out of the pub was cold.

Suppressing a shiver, you walked on high heels towards your car. It was only a hundred meters to the parking lot, but in the dark, and in the cold, the distance stretched into oblivion. It was quieting down, leaving the warmth and noise of the pub behind you. You could feel eyes on you. As you pulled up your coat around your shoulders and neck you cursed the idea to wear a dress on a night like this. Especially a dress so short. As you walked past the alleyway halfway to the parking lot, you didn’t even notice the white van without windows.

That’s when it happened.

A flurry of movement erupted alongside you. You barely had time to react before I was engulfing you. My left hand deftly dropping a sturdy but clear plastic bag over your head, the right hand deftly flicking under your coat, allowing me to bring the electrodes of the taser in contact with you. As I activated the trigger, my left hand clamped firmly over the bag where your mouth should be. It muffled the surprised scream as the electricity coursed through your body, contracting all of your muscles, arching your back, rendering you stiff as a board and a confused prisoner inside your own body. You couldn’t resist as you were dragged backwards and then dumped, unceremoniously, onto the floor of the van.

You were willing your body to move, to lash out, to scream, to do anything, but your body would not respond. Your scream finished as a guttural moan, and all your struggles translated into the random flopping of misfiring nerves. You could feel me above you, preparing something... but what...

The tape sealed up nicely around the bag. Devoid of any outside air, your next ragged breath sucked the bag inwards, plastering it on your face. It formed a membrane over your mouth, denying you even the faintest of breaths. Panic dawned on you then. You exhaled, releasing your hot breath into the bag, fogging your glasses, giving you the briefest hope you might still be able to breathe...

Inhale. The membrane stuck to you again. This time, a little less oxygen. Your arms wrenched behind your back. Bound together at the wrists with more of the damnably strong tape. Then a new pain, as your elbows were brought together as close as they could get. More tape, now, and inexorably your arms were completely immobilized.

You are rolled onto your front now. You can feel me straddling you, positioned right above your lower back. You are feeling dizzy now, the oxygen content of the bag reaching its end...

My voice in your ear: “Are you going to be a good girl for me now?”

You are stunned. A second passes while you consider this. My voice again.

“You’re getting pretty low on oxygen there missy. Soon you’re going to pass out...if you want to breathe again, you’re going to promise to be a good girl for me. Are you going to be a good girl?”

This time you nod, desperate for air.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Yes.” You croak. A knife is in front of your face, between the dancing black dots in your eyes. It approaches your face, but you are too busy fighting to breathe to even worry about it. It touches the membrane over your mouth and pierces it, bringing air rushing into your lungs. As you gasp and pant, you feel the insidious tape wrap around your ankles, fastening them together. The pain in your arms comes back again, as you feel them being pulled up so that your ankles meet your wrists. More tape and the hogtie is complete, rendering you completely helpless to resist my advances. My hand runs down your side, caressing your thigh, the back of your calf, and back down again, travelling softly down your inner thigh, reaching up under your dress...

My hand comes to rest against your panties. My fingers leisurely begin to knead them, your labia, your entrance, your clit... teasing, tantalising. Despite yourself, you’ve stopped struggling a long time ago. As the heat and throbbing rises in your pussy, you feel the wetness come. I am now spreading it all over the gusset of your panties.

“Are you going to keep being a good girl for me now?” I ask. You nod.

With a deft motion your dress is up over your waist. The straps of your panties go taut, then slack as you hear the knife saw through them. First one side of the waistband, then the other. The panties are whipped out from between your legs, and just as quickly, they are at your mouth. Your jaw clamps reflexively.

“Open up, or I’ll tape over that hole and we can do this the hard way.”

Reluctantly, your mouth opens, only to be stuffed with the panties. You taste and smell the muskiness of your pussy juice as one cheek, then the other, are stuffed full of your wet panties. Just as you think your mouth is full to capacity, more is shoved in, holding your tongue down and filling your mouth completely. The tape is back, wrapping around your head, pushing the makeshift gag further into position...and cutting off your air again.

“Mmmph! MmmMmPh!” Your muffled shout is barely audible.

“This is a lesson. One you should remember. I now control you. Totally. It is by my will that you even continue to breathe. You should remember that as you progress. It my save you quite a lot of trouble.” Having finished, I cut another hole, this time below your nose, letting you breathe again. With a definite slam, the van door closed, and an engine rumbled into life. Your heart sank, as you realized just how trapped you were.

The van travelled for what seemed like forever. The bumps in the road made your breasts grind into the floor, causing your nipples pain even through the fabric of your dress and bra. You had tested your bonds, thrashing this way and that, grunting furiously as the tape refused to give way. Then, as suddenly as it had started, the van pulled to a stop, and the engine shut off. The driver’s door slammed, and you ceased your struggles.

The cargo door rolled open with a clang, and through the haze of plastic you saw me stand over you, knife at the ready. I bent down over you and sawed away at the tape holding your wrists and ankles together. As the tape sprang away, you felt my arm under your waist, and with a deft motion you were over my shoulder. You began to voice your disapproval.

“Mmmph, mmmMMM.”

I flicked your dress up over your waist and smacked your ass, hard. Eliciting a strangled squawk from you.

“Be quiet, slut.”

Left, then right, then to what sounded like a heavy door with at least three locks on it. You heard me open them in succession and heave the door open. It was cool inside, cool, damp, and dark. Like a dungeon. Bodily, you are hefted from my shoulder to the ground, and then lowered onto what feels like a chair. Only it’s all wrong. Under your ass there is only the faintest of seat, leaving what feels like a large, square hole beneath you. You begin to feel the prickle of fear as you imagine how exposed you would be if your legs were apart on this chair. At the same time, the warm throb of lust stirs your groin.

You feel something behind you, and almost at once, your arms spring free from the tape that bound them. Before you could even react, your right arm is pinned to the arm of the chair, and you feel it being cinched into some sort of restraint. Hard. You flail your left arm around, ineffectually, before that too is caught and forced against the left arm of the chair. Again, a strap is tightened around your wrist. Three more straps follow in quick succession, first on your ribcage under your breasts, then another at your chest, under your arms. A third goes around your waist, pulling you hard down and back into the almost non-existent seat.

Taking my time now that you are mostly secured, I saw away the tape between your legs. You seize this opportunity to lash out with your foot in a final act of defiance. It makes contact.

You see me straighten, but you hardly see my hand before it crashes against your face. Your head whips around, mind reeling from the ferocity of the blow.

“You’re going to pay for that.” I say, simply.

Taking your left leg, then your right, with relish I pull them apart and secure them. Knees strapped to the front leg, ankles strapped to the back. You are completely spread wide and exposed now, if not for the modesty of your clothes. As you hear the knife flick open again, you realize that won’t be the case for much longer.

Cutting along the seams, and then ripping away the rest, I strip you of your dress. Then, with a mean deliberation, I cut one strap of your bra, then the other. The knife goes up between your breasts. You hold your breath. With a jerk and a pop, your bra springs open at the front, fully exposing you to me for the first time.

I give out a low whistle.

“My, my. Haven’t you got quite the fuckable body? You and I are going to have a whole lot of fun, slut.” The knife presses against a nipple, thumb at the other side, pressing your nipple into the razor sharp edge. “You don’t need this, do you?”

Your muffled plea of “Yes! YES!” is clear even through the panties and the tape.

“I wouldn’t cut something like that off you when there’s so much more fun I could be having with you!” The knife slides up against your face, inside the plastic bag. As it runs up the side of your head it severs the tape, and the bag is whipped off your head, leaving you blinking and looking dishevelled. The panties are free in your mouth, and you do your best to try and spit the sodden underwear out.

I reach in to give you a hand, and as the crumpled wad comes out of your mouth you are already begging.

“Please, please, please let me go. I won’t tell anyone. I’ll be a good girl, I promise...”

“Now, half of what you just said will be true. You won’t tell anyone. And you will be a good girl. But I’m not letting you go. You’re here for as long as I desire. So you’d better get used to that fact. My rules are simple. You follow orders and perform to the best of your ability; you will be rewarded, and pleasured. You will want for nothing but your freedom. On the other hand, if you resist, if you try to escape, if you fail in any way to deliver what I expect of you, there will be pain, suffering and humiliation. This is your lot now.” I turned away from you and walked to a desk at the far side of the room. I picked something up, and as I turned to face you again you realized it was a ball on a strap. A ball gag. You clamped your mouth shut as I approached you.

“Open.” You sat, obstinately. “Open or I will hit you again, and then follow it up with a chilli sauce enema. I’m done fucking around with you for one day already slut, don’t push me.”

Of course, you obeyed, and the huge ball was wedged in your mouth and fastened around your head. What else was there to do but obey?

It was tight, and it filled your mouth to capacity. It was too big to bite down on, and too big to open your mouth any further to dislodge it. You probed it with your tongue, giving out grunts and moans as you did so. Your mouth was filling up with spit, and as you grunted again it bubbled out between the ball and your lower lip. It fell in a silvery strand down your front, between your breasts. You looked up to see me watching you intently.

“You’ve been in the chair for three minutes now and you’re already drooling all over yourself. So much for self control.”

You blushed, fiercely, turning crimson red, tears starting to well up in your eyes. You didn’t know why, but the thought that you had displeased me was embarrassing to you, and the embarrassment was causing the throb in your pussy to increase.

I stood up, and walked over to you, squatting down in front of you. My large hands made their way to your breasts, cupping and squeezing them. My fingers found their way to your nipples, wrapped them up, and squeezed, hard.

You tensed up, your head fell back, and you moaned, twin lines of pain and something else, something that shot down your body to your quivering pussy, fuelling even more the fire that was started down there. It was torment and pleasure so finely mixed that you could barely think, existing for a moment only between the ache in your nipples and the ache lower down. As quickly as my hands had found your nipples, they were gone, my right hand slowly trailing down your body to your pussy.

My hand trailed down between your legs, ever so gently rubbing your lips, deliberately missing your throbbing clit. You could feel how hot and slick with excitement you were. As you tried in vain to buck your hips, to push yourself onto my teasing hand, my fingers came up and into your trimmed pubic patch.

“This, however, is not acceptable. I require my slaves to be cleanly shaven.”

My hand was gone, leaving you panting. I had moved behind you, and you heard the running of water. I came back into view with a metal bucket full of water, a can of shaving foam, and a razor. Sitting down in front of you, I sprayed the foam into my hand, and rubbed it into your pussy. You luxuriated in the feeling of the silky foam as my strong hands massaged it into you. Then, you felt the cold razor press against your pubic mound. A few swipes and most of the hair had come away, my hands skilfully avoiding cutting you. When I was satisfied, I fetched a cold wet cloth from the bucket and rubbed away the foam. I brushed your clit as I did this, and you recoiled in pleasure, almost succumbing to the desperate urge to orgasm.

You looked down, your pussy was bare and glistening, both with water and your juices.

“Now, isn’t that better? Now we can get started!” I took the shaving equipment back out of your sight.

You heard the sound of running water again, and when I returned I was rolling an IV tree, a metal coat stand on wheels. Hanging from one of the hooks was a plastic bag filled with water, which in turn was connected to a long clear plastic hose that terminated in a squat, black bullet, with a clamp on the hose above it.

“I have no doubt that you’ve never had one of these before, so for your benefit, this is an enema.” I pointed at the bag. “This is one litre of water.” Then, pointing at the black bullet. “And this is a butt plug. This water will be inside of you, and this plug will be holding it in. It is quite a curious sensation.”

Without further ado, I took the plug and a dispenser from the bottom of the tree. I pumped the dispenser and a thick clear gel issued forth. I took great care to rub it all over the plug, and then I moved behind you. You tensed in anticipation as you felt the cold gel and plastic nose in between your ass cheeks. You felt a push, and the plug came to rest against your quivering hole.

“You’ll want to relax. This will be a lot more painful if you don’t.”

Then, slowly, inexorably, the plug began to push against your asshole. Your ass stretched further and further, painfully, but not excessively so. Just as you thought you were going to split apart, the plug slid home and your ass clenched against the bottom of the plug, locking it in.

You felt full, and violated. You blushed fiercely, more tears welling in your eyes, falling down your face. You realized with a shock you had been moaning through the gag like a whore the whole time, without even realizing it. Your front was now covered in sticky drool, carving a path between your breasts down to your still aching pussy.

My voice in your ear.

“Yes, that’s right. I heard you moaning, you whore. You were quite enjoying this, weren’t you? That’s good. There will be thicker things than that tiny little plug up there on a regular basis. So you’d better come to enjoy it. Or not, I don’t mind. Watching you cry and scream as I rape your ass is just as much fun.”

My words sent a shiver down your spine, making you tense up, making your asshole clench against the plug, and further reminding you of the intruder inside you.

And now, my hand is on the water clamp. I smile a wicked grin.

“Now, shall we start the waterworks, my dear slave?”

I wasn’t waiting for your answer. I twisted the clamp free, and the water was loose...