2 comments/ 65960 views/ 36 favorites Belle, Out of Control Ch. 01 By: SBurnett When I came to, I couldn't see. I also couldn't move. Luckily, I could scream, so I did. Loudly. I heard a laugh nearby. A man's laugh. I didn't recognize it. "Pretty Belle," he whispered, stroking my stomach. I wriggled and shrieked in response. How did he know my name? Why was he touching my naked skin—hell, why was I naked in the first place? How had I gotten here? Where, exactly, was here? "We're going to have some fun," he whispered. "You be a good girl, you won't get hurt. At least not in a...bad way." "What other kind of way is there?" I asked, my voice sounding ragged. He laughed again. "We'll see," he said. And then there was nothing. Silence. I didn't know if he'd tiptoed away or was still there, watching me. I stayed quiet like a good girl for several minutes before yelling, "Hey! Where'd you go? What's going on?" He touched my belly again, and I jumped—well, as much as I could, tied up as I was. "Don't tell me you're bored already," he said, chuckling. "Why am I here? What do you want?" "Don't make me have to gag you, Belle. I do enjoy the sound of your voice." "Who—who are...ohhh!" I said, as I felt a finger slide inside me. "Stop!" "Go ahead and protest all you like, but you and I both know there's a reason you haven't really tried to get out of those ropes yet." "No," I insisted, jerking in my bonds. But all that did was fuck myself with his finger. "Such a pretty pussy," he said. "How nice of you to have recently shaved for me." "What do you want?" I repeated. "I want a beautiful pet...a toy. A woman to play with, to use. And I thought you'd be perfect." "No," I said, struggling. "I don't want to." "You're all wet in there, Belle. I think you do." He slid his finger in again, brought it out, wiped it on my cheek. "See? Told you that you were wet." I winced, embarrassed. I shouldn't be turned on by this. But of course I was. I'd always known I was submissive. I'd just been too damn scared to act on it. He cupped my breasts with both hands and squeezed. Pinched the nipples gently, then made it hurt. "Ow!" I yelped. He reached down, stroked my clit gently. The little traitor was engorged, and every stroke sent waves of pleasure through me. When he stopped, I moaned, and he laughed again. "I've been watching you at night. You should really have bought better curtains. Or maybe you wanted someone to see?" I knew what he was referring to. My nightly masturbation sessions. Sometimes I rubbed my clit, sometimes fucked myself with a cool glass dildo, but more often than not, it took the big guns to get me to come. And by the time I'd worked myself up well enough to need the Hitachi, I didn't care about anything else except getting off. I'd climb on my bed and grind myself against the toy, and it would only be mere minutes before I was moaning loudly, losing myself in the pleasure. "You...you were there?" I asked. "When?" He chuckled. "More than once. Enough to convince me that you'd be a lot of fun. Never underestimate the power of an excellent set of binoculars, my dear," he said, pinching my right nipple. I yelped. "Hey, that hurt!" "Oh, come on," he said, sighing. "You are many wonderful things, of that I'm absolutely certain, but you're a lousy actress. Drop the act, Belle—I've seen you with those clothespins you play with sometimes." "What haven't you seen?" I asked snidely, embarrassed. "I've seen a lot," he admitted. "But there's one thing I've never seen." "And what is that?" I asked, playing along. "You cum with a man," he said. "I saw you have sex with two of them—two different ones in one month, you little strumpet—but you didn't even look close." "I wasn't," I said. "The one guy was kind of wimpy, and the other didn't exactly have...um, skills." He touched my belly, moved his hands up to squeeze my tits, and then laid one finger on my lips. "Lucky for you, I am not wimpy, and I do have skills." "And you're likely also a psychopath," I muttered. "Now, now," he admonished. "In subsequent days, that sort of chatter will get you punished. But it's early yet, and I forgive you. You don't know the rules. But you will." "Do I ever get to be untied?" "Will you ever want to be?" he asked sincerely. "Um, yes," I snapped, frustrated. He laughed. "We'll see about that. It's time to test you, my dear." "For what? I don't have any diseases, if that's what you're wondering—" "To see if you're really what I'm looking for," he said softly. "How will you know?" "Easy," he said. I heard the soft flip of a switch, and a powerful whirring sound filled the air. "This will help me know." I knew what it was, and I both desired it and feared it. "This is a toy, just like yours," he said softly. "Brand new, and all for you. Do you want it?" "N-no," I whispered. "I'm not convinced," he said, and he pressed it lightly against my pussy. "Unnnhh," I moaned, confused. My brain was telling me not to like it, but my pussy wanted it badly. "I've had a theory about you," he said, pressing the toy harder into me. "I realize you haven't cum with those guys because, well, they suck, but I thought there was another reason, too. You didn't want to give up control. Am I right?" I considered this. I'd never cum for a guy before—only for myself, by myself, with a toy. "I don't know," I said honestly. "Maybe?" "I think...you want it. But I also think you're afraid of it. And that's okay. That actually makes it hotter," he confessed. "Mmmm," I sighed as he moved the toy in little circles, teasing me. "I'd like to find out for certain. If you're truly more afraid than you are excited, you won't cum for me. But I bet you will. And if you do...then you're mine." "Not fair," I said, panting. "You've seen enough...to know...I love this toy!" "Any rational person's brain would be overcome by the fact that they're tied up, naked, with a stranger. If you can cum for me despite that, then you're just my kind of twisted," he said, grinding it into me deeper. The sounds I was making at this point were guttural, and I could feel my control and resolve slipping away. I felt both terrified and desperate to cum, and as I inched ever closer, the bastard did something I didn't expect. He turned it on higher power. Gasping, I bucked in my binds, completely losing control. I felt my feet clench up and my pussy spasm repeatedly as he pressed the toy into me harder. "No more, no more!" I begged as I came down from the orgasm, my clit swollen and tender to the touch. I heard him laugh as he took the toy away and switched it off. "You passed with flying colors, my dear," he said, and I could hear the evil glee in his voice. "So that means..." "You're mine." "What do you want me to do for you?" I asked. I wondered if he'd fuck me, or make me suck his cock, as repayment for the incredible orgasm. Like before, I was half scared, half excited. The orgasm had been liberating as hell; surely fucking a stranger—one who actually had my pleasure in mind, to some degree—would be, too. "Just relax and absorb all that just happened. I suspect you don't lose control often." "True," I said. I felt my face flush as I visualized what he'd just seen, and I felt embarrassed that this stranger has seen so much. "Well, get used to it. Seeing you so wanton and out of control was...truly beautiful." "You don't want...anything in return?" "If you're asking whether I'm going to fuck you, the answer is yes. But not now." "Not...now...what?" I asked, confused. He leaned in close and whispered in my ear. "I'm going to enjoy making you wait for it. Making you want it. Making you beg for it." I heard him unplug the toy and open a door. "You just relax, my dear, and dream of what's to come. I have a feeling this is just the beginning of an extraordinary partnership." I heard his footsteps head off in another direction, and I was left there alone, with nothing but silence and my own conflicted thoughts. Belle, Out of Control Ch. 02 I woke up feeling out of it, and when I opened my eyes, my world was still black. I wriggled my arms, my legs—didn't get very far. Still tied down. Fuck. All around me, there was silence. I wondered where he was. Was he there in the dark, watching me? Maybe it wasn't even dark, but I was still blindfolded, so I didn't know any better. What I did know was that I had to pee. Badly. "Hey, mister!" I called out. My voice didn't carry very far. I was hoarse, probably from lack of fluids, and maybe because the water he'd given me to sip last night had been drugged. That would explain why I felt so woozy. "Hey!" I yelled, as best I could. Still silence. Then I heard a chuckle. He'd been there all along. "Mister, please. Can you take me to the bathroom? I'm not gonna try anything funny." I heard him sigh. "I suppose you do have to get off that little bed sometime. Bathroom's as good a time as any." I felt his hands on my wrists, then heard the sound of latches. When my arms were free, I gratefully stretched them, cracking and rolling my wrists. I moved them around gingerly, trying to get them used to moving again. He unfastened my legs. "Sit up very slowly," he instructed, and I did so, the blood rushing to my head. "How are you feeling?" he asked. "Dehydrated, stiff, and like somebody drugged me." He laughed. "And also sarcastic. I admire your spunk, Belle." "May I please go to the bathroom?" "You may, but I will take you there. Since we're just getting to know each other, I will stand outside the door—but that door stays open. Once you're done on the toilet, I'll help you freshen up." "And then what?" I asked. "And then we eat," he said, as if it were the most logical thing in the world. He took my hand and helped me climb down off the bed. He pulled me gently down what must have been a hallway. I walked slowly, both due to exhaustion and also because I was weighing my options. What if I tore off the blindfold and bolted, or tried to fight him? No, I told myself, best to try that after you've eaten. You're way too weak for that. Plus, you don't want to do this on a full bladder, right? I could tell we were in the bathroom because the soft carpet had been replaced by tile. He led me into the room and helped me to sit down on the toilet. I desperately needed to go, but he was still standing there. "You said you'd stay outside the door," I said softly. "So I did. Very well then. Tell me when you're done." Listening to his footsteps walk the other way on the tile floor, I thought I was going to burst. As soon as I heard him stop walking, I let loose and peed like never before. The relief felt incredible, but I couldn't help but feel ashamed; I knew he was hovering outside the door, listening to every drop, every relieved sigh. My hands shot out, grappling for the toilet paper. I found it, wiped, and stood up on shaky legs. "I'm ready," I called. He came in and turned on the water. "I'm running a bath for you. You'll get in, and I'll help you clean yourself." "Why are you being so nice to me?" "Have I ever not been?" he asked. "Um, you kidnapped me. I'd say that's not very nice." "You don't have to go to work today. I'd say that's a vacation." "What do you do?" I asked. "Of all the questions you could be asking right now, you want to know what I do?" "Yes. Besides kidnap young women." "I work with computers. I can do much of my work from home, and often do." "Can you make the water warm, please?" "What?" "The water. I've been chilly here," I said. "I would like a hot bath." "Yes, of course," he said, and I heard him adjusting the faucet. Shortly after, he turned the water off and said, "Allow me to help you into the tub." I stuck my hand out, and he took it. "Lift your leg up," he said, guiding me so one leg was in the tub. I sighed with pleasure, feeling the hot water on my foot and calf. "Next leg," he said, and I lifted my other one in. "Now sit." I sat, shakily, but god, did that water feel good. My muscles were thrilled, and the chill was getting steamed off my skin. "Tell me when you're ready to be washed," he said. I nodded, but knew I'd need a few minutes to enjoy this simple comfort. After a short while I said, "Ready," and I felt his hand plunge into the water. I instinctively scooted back, and he laughed. "Do you really think I'm going to hurt you?" "I don't really know what the hell you're going to do," I said, my voice coming out raspy. "Well, first I'm going to bathe you," he said, and I felt the warm friction of a washcloth on me. He dipped it into the water and onto my, washing my chest, arms, back, and legs. The shower gel smelled of sugar cookies, which seemed out of place for a kidnapper's bathroom, but at least it was pleasant. He let the washcloth slip into the water. I felt his hands, slick with shower gel, massage my tits. I moaned softly, and then he squeezed hard. "Ow!" I yelped. "Just wanted to make sure you were still sassy," he said, laughing, taking the opportunity to reach down and slip a finger into me. I clenched my muscles and tried to squeeze my legs together, but the invading finger was already in there. "You feel dirty," he said glibly, taking the washcloth and gently washing my folds, my inner thighs. "Who made me that way?" I retorted. "You were born that way. I just happened to find you." He slid his hands off me, and I heard him pull himself up. "Reach up and take my hand." I obeyed, and he helped me out of the tub. He turned me around, and I heard more water running. "Here," he said, handing me something thin. "You can brush your teeth." I did so, and when I was done, I felt around for the faucet, turned it on, and rinsed my mouth out. He handed me a towel, and I dried myself as best I could. "Now we're going to go to the kitchen. Come with me." "Are we going to eat?" He laughed. "Yes. Yes, we are." Once out of the bathroom, he dropped my hand, and I heard him hurrying away. "Hey!" I called. "Follow the sound of my voice," he said. I turned blindly, trying to walk toward him. "No," he said sharply. I turned again. Was I going in the wrong direction? "Crawl," he said coldly. I was confused. He'd actually been sweet before, washing me down, and now he wanted me to get all dirty on the floor? "Are you sure?" "Don't question me when I give you orders, Belle. Crawl to me." I sighed and dropped down to the floor, getting on my hands and knees. The linoleum was cold, and I didn't like it. "Come this way." I dumbly crawled toward the voice, hoping I wasn't going to crash into any appliances on the way. "Stop," he said. I heard the scraping of a chair. "I'm sitting down. You are to stay on the floor until I allow you to get up. Do you understand?" "Yes." "Now, come toward me. You need to work for your lunch." "Work for it?" "I want to see how well you use that pretty mouth." I felt his hand on my head, guiding me to him. "If you bite, you'll regret it, so don't." "I wouldn't," I said. At least not yet. I leaned into his crotch. He smelled fresh, clean. Not of sugar cookies, but of something more masculine. I reached out, but he stopped me. "No," he said. "Find it with your face." I stuck my face out farther until I felt the spongy head of his cock against my nose. I opened my mouth and closed my lips around the head, swirling my tongue around it. "Good girl," he said. "Keep going." I took more of him into my mouth, angling my face and neck to accommodate. I sucked harder, putting my whole face into it, until he pulled his cock out. "Huh?" I asked, confused. He slapped his wet cock against my face. "You weren't doing anything wrong. I just like doing this." He slapped the other cheek, leaving wetness on my face. I could feel myself getting tingly. It was kind of hot to be blowing someone this way, degraded, feeling like a common whore. When he nudged my mouth with his cock, I opened up enthusiastically, licking and sucking. I heard him moan and sigh softly, and a perverse part of me was excited by the fact that I was pleasing him. "You're doing great, Belle," he said, "but I need to take charge now." And with that he started fucking my face, hard. I cried out, choking, gagging on his cock, but he didn't let up. I could hardly breathe. But then he pulled out, making a popping sound as his cock shot past my lips, and I felt his hand grab my hair and pull my head down lower. A moment later, I felt his hot, wet cum dribbling down my forehead and onto my nose and cheeks. "You were a good girl, Belle. You've earned your lunch." "Would you like me to get cleaned up first?" I asked meekly, knowing that I looked a wreck. "You look perfect just the way you are," he said, laughing evilly. "Wait—you have a drip on your lips. Lick it up for me." I licked my lips. It was only a little bit, but it was salty, still slightly warm. He helped me up off the floor. "Now you will sit here and relax while I make our sandwiches," he said, as if he was making lunch for an old friend. Bewildered, I sat there, feeling his cum dry on my face, blushing because I looked like a stupid slut who'd been used by a guy whose name she didn't even know yet, humiliated from wearing his dominance all over my mortified face. "If you're a good girl and don't try to stab me with a fork over lunch, I may even let you take the blindfold off tonight," he whispered in my ear. I shivered. Being able to see again would make everything seem so much more real. The thought both terrified and excited me. But for now I sat, helpless and filthy, with my stomach growling and a thousand frenzied thoughts running through my brain. Belle, Out of Control Ch. 03 After lunch, he took me back to the chilly room and locked the door. I supposed getting my blindfold taken off wasn't going to be dessert. Granted, I could reach up at any time and pull it off. But I didn't. He may have the room hooked up to a camera, and if he saw me do something I knew I wasn't supposed to do, he'd probably be pissed. I really didn't want to see him pissed. Plus, what good would taking off the blindfold be? I'd still be locked in a room. The only difference would be I'd get to see the room. I could certainly wait for that. I felt my way around the room until I literally bumped into the bed, and then I climbed onto it and curled up. I wondered what would happen when I could finally see again. I wondered about my captor. What did he look like? Was he someone I'd ever seen before? How tall was he, and what color was his hair? Would I find him attractive or not? Would it matter? I'd sucked his cock, worn his cum all over my face, and been rendered completely vulnerable by being forced to have a powerful orgasm in his presence. But I didn't know his name, or what he looked like. I knew I was here against my will, but doing all these things with—so far—a nameless, faceless man made me feel incredibly slutty. I wondered if anyone knew I was missing yet. It had only been, what, two days? A day and a half? Being deprived of sight, I was losing track of time, of days. I'd been taken on a Friday night. It's possible nobody would even think to look for me until Monday, when I don't show up for work. I mean, I'm assuming I won't show up for work. Mr. Nameless-Faceless doesn't seem to want to let me go. I sighed and curled myself up into a tight little ball. Eventually I fell asleep that way. Eventually, a sharp slap on the ass woke me up. Startled, I shrieked. "It's just me, Belle," he said, irritated. "Were you expecting someone else?" "Hope not," I murmured, wondering about his choice of friends. "Sorry I woke you so suddenly, but I had a very strong urge to try you out." "Try me out?" I asked, confused. I felt his hands on my shoulders. "On your back, please." I lay back, and he straightened me out, then parted my legs. He inserted a finger into me, and I squirmed. "Relax," he said. "Doesn't look like you're wet enough yet. This will help." I heard him spit into his hand, and then his wet finger made its way to my clit, circling and rubbing until I felt the juices start to flow. Embarrassed, I moaned. I could only imagine what I looked like, all spread out, turned on by this stranger. Maybe it was best that I couldn't see. "Much better," he said when he inserted the finger in again. I heard clothes fall to the floor—a light shirt, pants that clonked when they hit the floor due to what must have been a heavy belt. And then I felt the tip of his cock probing my wet pussy. "Noooo," I said. "No, please..." "Belle, cut it out. You clearly want this, as do I. It's going to happen regardless, so just be a good girl." I lifted my leg and tries to kick him, but he just pushed my leg back down and rammed his cock inside me. I screamed as he moaned in pleasure. "You feel heavenly," he said, thrusting. The truth was, he did, too. He had the perfect size cock for me—not too big, not too small. And it had been weeks since I'd had sex. My pelvis betrayed me, rocking back and forth with each thrust as if I wanted it, too. His hands, now that they didn't have to hold my legs down, went to my tits. I could feel them bouncing each time he pushed into me, and he grabbed them and squeezed hard. I moaned as he pinched my nipples. He was doing everything I liked, even though I didn't want to admit it. "I'm not going to last long this first time with you," he said. "I've been wanting this too much." I was both sad and relieved to hear him say this. Part of me wanted the violation to stop. But part of me wanted more. "Turn over," he ordered, pulling out of my abruptly. I flopped over onto my belly, and he pulled me to the edge of the bed. My torso was on the bed with my clit smashed up against the bed's edge, and my ass was up in the air. He slipped himself inside me and started pounding me hard. He filled me more than completely in this position, and my pussy was on fire in a good way. A very good way. I was moaning, panting, begging for it now. I'd never cum during sex before, but I knew I was close, so close. But as he pounded me harder and harder, I heard a strange thing. His evil little chuckle. And then there was light. He'd pulled the blindfold off. "Whaaaa--???" I cried out, disoriented. I hadn't seen light in two days, and it seemed blinding. Juxtaposed with the intense pounding my pussy was taking, I was completely overwhelmed. Realizing I could now see who was fucking me, I turned my head around. He stopped me. "No!" he growled, grabbing a fistful of my hair, yanking it so he could control the direction my head was in. I moaned again, a completely slut to this still faceless man, a man who was fucking the living daylights out of me. He thrust harder, grunting, and I could feel his cum shoot inside me. I was both grateful and disappointed when he slipped out, and I tried once again to turn around. "Don't fucking move," he panted, coming down from his orgasm. I heard him get something and walk back over to me. I heard him flip the switch, and a familiar buzz filled the air. I needed to cum desperately, but I was terrified. I didn't want him to see me so vulnerable again. This time, afterward, he'd be able to look me in the face. I'd see the eyes that had watched me cum for him, and I'd feel embarrassed, ashamed. From behind, he slipped the toy between my legs. It took approximately five seconds after he hit the sweet spot to get me to cum, and this time I was fucking loud. I ground myself on the Hitachi and squeezed every last bit out of my orgasm, shaking and grunting. When I was done moving he turned it off, and I had no energy left to do anything but lay there on my belly, eyes shut, feeling highly whorish. I lay there like that for a while, and when I finally was able to get up and look around, I saw a room lined with bookshelves and a man sitting in an armchair in the corner. "I'm Christopher," said the man, tall, brown-haired, and bespectacled. "I thought it would be fitting to finally introduce myself." This was him? This nice-looking but very average-looking guy was my captor? Who'd cum on my face, and made me cum for him? This guy? I stared at him, trying to understand. Nothing about him stood out. He didn't look mean or evil. He looked like he was just the average guy, but he clearly had a dark side hiding beneath his ordinary exterior. "You look surprised," he said. "Not what you were expecting?" "I was expecting someone...weird-looking. Mean-looking. Not...this. Not you." "I hope you like to read," he said. "I do have a lot of...energy. But in between, there are books. Do you read, Belle?" "I never really had much time for it, although I enjoyed reading when I could." He smiled. "Luckily, now you have plenty of time," he said, getting up and walking out the door, closing and locking it behind him. I laid there, still overwhelmed, my surroundings becoming a blur as I eyed everything up, more confused than before. Belle, Out of Control Ch. 04 The next time Christopher came into the room, he entered holding a big bag of something unexpected: clothes. I sat on the bed, looking at the bright pink bags, confused. "Yes," he said, "these are for you. They're certainly not for me. I don't fit into anything at Victoria's Secret." "Is it all lingerie?" I asked. If it was, that would be better than nothing, but obviously not my top choice. "Open the bags and have a look," he said, setting them down on the bed. Curious, I pawed through them, finding two pairs of yoga pants, some tank tops, two bras, a bunch of brightly colored panties, two hoodies, and two pairs of flip-flops. Nothing even remotely kinky or scandalous. I was surprised, and told him so. "I much prefer you naked," he said. "But I realize it's impractical for you to be naked all the time, and I don't want you getting too cold. Hence, clothes. But you can't have them yet." I sighed. There was always a twist, wasn't there? "Today we're going to go over some rules, and then get to know each other better. If you're a good girl, at the end of it all, you get clothes to wear for a while. Understand?" I nodded. "Yes." "First, the rules. You are to be naked whenever I request it. It's non-negotiable. You are to do as I ask in any other way as well. If you have concerns, you can voice them, but know that it won't necessarily change my mind." "Okay." "You can speak freely here. Your feistiness and sarcasm is actually charming, and I don't want you to hold back. But if I feel that you're getting out of line or being disrespectful, you will be punished. You don't want me to punish you. Got it?" I nodded. "As things evolve here, you will get more privileges, but only when I trust you more. First comes clothes. Eventually, you may even be able to roam the house on your own. But not until I trust you more, and right now, I don't. So when you're hungry, or need to use the bathroom, or want to take a shower, you knock on the door three times. I'll come and evaluate your wishes, and then I'll bring you what you need or escort you to where you need to go." "Thank you," I said sincerely. "Today I want to get to know you more, inside and out. I want to understand what you like and don't like, what turns you on and off. I want to start off with you laying on your stomach on the bed, so please do that now." I stretched out, laying down on top of the covers, my head on the pillow. "Like this?" "Very good, yes." He came over and gently touched my butt, and I jumped. He laughed. "Really? I thought you'd be used to this kind of thing by now." "It takes a while." He massaged my ass with both hands, squeezing the cheeks. "So, my dear Belle, what turns you on the most?" I thought carefully. I didn't know how to answer that. Before I'd come here I'd have said a good, hard fucking. But now? Did I dare say being deprived of control? Was that too dangerous of a thing to say? Or did it not matter because he already knew? "Being fucked hard," I said shyly. "Really?" he asked. "Because I would have thought it would be being vulnerable. Or did you not say that because it would make you even more vulnerable?" I stayed quiet, and he slapped my right buttcheek. "Belle, another rule is that you answer truthfully when I ask you a question." My ass stung. I sighed. "Yes, it can be hot to have control taken away from me." "You both love it and fear it, don't you?" "Yes," I whispered. His hands moved down my legs. "How many men have you been with?" "Six," I said. "Before now." I could hear the smile in his voice. "So that makes me lucky number seven. Excellent. Any women?" "No. I'm not into women." "Okay. How many serious relationships?" "Just two." "Guarded, aren't you?" he asked softly. "Yes." His hands moved down to my legs. "Nice, strong leg muscles. Do you play sports?" "I run. Well, ran. I suspect you won't let me run much here." "Not true, Belle. I have a treadmill. But you'll have to earn the right to use it." "Thank you. I think." "What are some things you love?" he asked, grabbing my feet. I immediately tensed. There are several spots on my feet that, when touched just the right way, drive me wild, and I didn't want him to know. I tried to distract him from my feet by talking. "I like wine, and shopping, and rock music, and the beach..." "That all seems very vanilla for someone like you. What else do you like? In bed, for example?" He was massaging various spots on my feet, and I could feel myself getting turned on. I was hoping he didn't notice. "Getting fucked hard, of course. Strong hands. Being fucked from behind." "What's going on with your feet here?" he asked. "What do you mean?" "Most people hate to have their feet touched. But you seem to like it, and you appear to swoon every time I touch here...or here." I didn't want him to know this. Every time he touched those places—on the bottoms of my feet, in the middle, right by the muscles—I got wetter. It was like the touch sent a shock directly to my clit. But if I lied about it, I'd get into trouble. He pressed harder. "Yes," I gasped. "It turns me on. I don't know why." "Interesting," he said, considering this. Desperate to get a little of the focus off me, I said, "Christopher? Somehow this doesn't seem fair. I'd like to know things about you, too." "Hmm. I see your point. I'd be willing to answer one question of yours for every two you answer for me." "Okay. Deal." "First, my two. How do you usually masturbate?" My head was down, so he couldn't see me blushing, but I was bright red. This wasn't something I ever talked to anyone about. "I rub my clit until I come, usually with a toy." "You don't insert any toys?" "Not usually. Feels weird. Your turn to answer now. Why me?" "I wanted someone for a while now, and when I saw you...I couldn't resist. Your hair...it's the color of honey, and its beautiful. Pretty body, pretty face, great smile, although I haven't seen it much here yet. And there's an edge to you, an air of mystery, and I was so incredibly curious. Still am, of course—I'm more intrigued by you now than I was then. I'd been following you around for weeks, you know. You barely seemed to notice me. You were frequently preoccupied. But not frequently with others. Picking a loner would be easier, and you being by yourself a lot made it easier for me. My turn again." "Thank you," I said, and I meant it. I'd been wondering why, and that was a good answer. "What are some things you don't like?" "In general, or in bed?" I asked. "Both. Those will be my two questions." "I don't like being cold or dirty. I hate pickles. I don't like oral sex." "Wait a second. You seemed to like going down on me, or was I wrong?" "Not wrong at all. I did like sucking your cock," I said, blushing again. "I just don't like oral sex done...on me. My turn now. Have you always wanted these things? To have a woman to use at your whim, fulfilling your twisted needs?" He smirked. "I've always been twisted. Since I was young, really. But I had to repress it for a while. My wife...she was extraordinarily vanilla. I loved her anyway—loved her so much—and when she was alive, I repressed my needs. But after she died...I couldn't help it. Eventually I knew I needed to indulge, and not long after, I found you." He paused. "I'm sure you're curious, so I'll mention she died of breast cancer over a year ago." "I'm sorry," I said, almost surprised that I actually did feel sorry for him. "Thank you," he said. "Back to me now. And while you're at it, please turn over." I did so, laying on my back, completely exposed to him. He came next to me and grabbed my tits, squeezing. It felt good, and I moaned a little. "So why don't you like to let go, Belle?" he asked. "It's fucking scary," I said. "Opening myself up to someone else? I hate it." "And," he said, giving my tits another squeeze, "you love it. Don't you?" "Maybe," I said. "Next question. Don't you work?" "I'm fortunate enough to be able to work from home. My degrees are in computer science and psychology, and I work in the technology field. I have a home office here, and get paid very handsomely for what I do." He moved his hands down, slipped a finger inside the folds, rubbed my clit. "Feels good, doesn't it?" I nodded, nervous. "Yes." It felt too good, dammit. "Now, Belle, I want you to stay right where you are. For this next thing, do not make me tie you up. I want you to not have to be bound for this, but if you make me..." "I'll be good," I assured him with more confidence than I felt. "Good girl," he said, lowering himself to the bed, bringing his face to my pussy. I knew what he was going to do, and I didn't want it. "No," I begged him. "You know I don't like this, you asked me about it..." "I think you do like it more than you're willing to admit," he said, and then he stopped talking because his tongue was exploring my pussy. He teased me, sucking on the lips, tonguing the hole, and I tensed up. I hated having someone so close, knowing these intimate parts of me. How much more intimate can you get than having someone's mouth on your pussy? He went after my clit, the spot he knew would drive me crazy. At first he tongued it gently, but then he went after it hard, licking and sucking nonstop. "No!" I cried out. "Please stop. I don't want this!" He licked harder, massaging my clit with his tongue. I was equal parts turned on and terrified. "Stop, please," I begged. "I'll do whatever you want. Let me suck you. Please?" It didn't help. He began sucking hard on my clit, and my begging was interrupting by my moaning. I tried to squirm, but he held my legs down tightly, continuing his assault on my now-engorged clit. I was getting close, and I knew it. I was sure he knew it, too. I didn't want to cum for him like this, with him so close, right there. It was too intimate, too much, and I couldn't. But he kept going, despite my protests. By this point I was crying, desperately begging him to stop, yet at the same time out of my mind with lust and need. He didn't stop. Of course he didn't. And when I came, I came hard, moaning, grinding against his tongue, shaking, wanting more and also wanting it to end. When my traitorous body finally relaxed, the tears still flowing freely down my cheeks, I felt him clean me up, his tongue licking up my juices, and I felt even more mortified. It was just too much, too close, and I wanted to curl up under the covers and lay there in the dark, by myself. He slid out from between my legs. "How was that, Belle?" I sniffled. "I hate you." "Somewhat," he said, pleased with himself. He stretched, then walked around the side of the bed. "I'm sorry I made you cry." "Somewhat," I mocked him. "Truth. I supposed I deserved that." Then he leaned over and kissed me, full on on the mouth. I wouldn't necessarily have minded the kiss, but I wanted to recede into my own dark world, plus I could taste myself on him, and it was disconcerting. I made a face, and he laughed and kissed me again. "Better get used to this, my dear," he said. "In an hour I'll be back, and you can brush your teeth and take a shower. But for now, you stay like this. Naked, with your taste on your face." "You're evil," I said softly. "Perhaps. But I don't think you really mind, do you?" Before I could answer, he was out the door, locking it behind him. I laid on the bed, feeling angry, grateful, sticky and unsettled. Belle, Out of Control Ch. 05 Clothes felt good. I had been sleeping very comfortably in a pink tank top and gray yoga pants, nestled under a mess of covers. Of course, it was not to last. Christopher woke me around 10:00. By "woke," I mean that he sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at me, and I woke up because, even while sleeping soundly, I knew I was being watched. When I opened my eyes and saw him sitting there, I gasped, startled. My heart was beating a hundred miles an hour. I didn't know why I was surprised, though. His house, his rules. If he wanted to be creepy, well, that didn't seem to be against the rules here. He laughed. "Good morning, Belle." I rubbed my eyes. "Morning." "Are you ready for a new adventure?" I eyed him warily. He was already way too fucking chipper for the morning. But worse than that, I had a feeling I wasn't going to love whatever was coming next. "Dare I ask what it involves?" I grumbled. "Well, I've had a theory about you, Belle. I'm guessing you've never had anything in your ass before. Am I right?" "Seriously?" I said, annoyed. "Am I right or not?" he asked cheerfully. "You're right. Why does it matter?" "It matters because there are two ways today could go. If you've had anything in your ass before, then I wouldn't feel bad about bending you over right now and fucking you. But if I knew you were a virgin back there, then it's only considerate to break you in a little before taking you in the ass for the very first time." Ugh. Not the way I'd wanted to start the day. "Gosh, you're so considerate." "I know you're focused on being surly right now, but you really should be grateful. It would hurt a lot worse if I just forced myself inside you. Instead I'm going to stretch you out so it'll hurt less later on." "Gee, thanks. So I get something in my ass twice instead of just once, huh?" Christopher laughed. "Such a pessimist. Anyway, I want you to get up now and go take a shower. Get everything nice and clean. I'm sure you know what I mean. When you're finished, stay in the bathroom and call me in." "Oh, you're not going to be watching me shower?" "I have work to do, Belle. I'll be in the room next door to the bathroom. Don't take too long, either—I'm eager to get started." He got up from the bed, leaving the door open. I took off my clothes and laid them on the armchair, and walked slowly down to the bathroom. After using the toilet and brushing my teeth, I stepped into the shower, turning the water on nearly as hot as it could go. The hot water would help my muscles relax, which would probably be important today. I was nervous about having anything in my ass. His cock wasn't small, and I had no idea how it was going to fit up there. What would he stretch me with beforehand? How big would that be, and how much would that hurt? I took my good, sweet time washing, trying to delay the inevitable. When the hot water started running cooler, though, I knew I had to get out. Reluctantly, I stepped out of the shower and dried off, applied deodorant, and combed through the tangles in my hair. "Christopher?" I called, standing naked in the doorway of the bathroom. "I'm finished in the shower." "I'll be right there," he said through a closed door. A moment later, he came out, holding a bag in his hand. "I bought you a nice new butt plug and lube," he said, taking the items out of the bag. "Be a good girl and bend over, please." I didn't want to, but I obeyed. A moment later, I felt his finger, wet with lube, at the entrance of my asshole. "Stay still," he said. "If you wriggle, you'll tense your muscles, and this will hurt worse." I nodded, scared. I felt him worm a finger inside me slowly, gently. "You are so tight," he said, sighing. "You're going to feel amazing later." I was trying not to tense up. It was strange to feel something invading my ass, a place I'd managed to keep very private over the years. He pushed in farther, slowly, and it didn't feel as bad as I expected it to. He slid his finger out, also slowly. "Time to try to fit this thing in," he said cheerfully. He lubed up the pink butt plug and started working it in. The plug was smaller than his cock, but thicker than his finger. I howled in pain as he pushed it into me. "Relax," he said. "Or try to, anyway." I panted, trying to control the pain. Finally I felt it fully enter me, and the feeling of having something inside me was very disconcerting. "Perfect!" he said, smiling. I grimaced. "How's that thing going to come out?" I asked. "Don't worry, it won't get stuck inside you. There's a little thing on the end that allows me to pull it out of you when I think you've been stretched enough," he explained. He turned me around so I could see my backside in the mirror. "See that thing sticking out there?" I did. Great—it looked like I had a tail. "Okay then." "Now, remember, this is for your own good. So I need you to leave that plug in until I say it's time to take it out. Understood?" "Yes," I said. "You can go back to your room now. Relax, read, do whatever. But don't remove the plug." "I won't," I said. It felt really weird to walk with the plug inside me. It felt a little like I had to poop, and it was a strange feeling of fullness. I went back to my room and shut the door. I scanned the bookshelves, wondering what exactly was an appropriate reading choice for a moment like this. I chose Alice in Wonderland and laid down on the bed to read, attempting to take my mind off the fullness. It took a while to find the right position. Laying on my back was uncomfortable, but laying on my belly wasn't too bad. After a while, the weird feeling started to subside. I still felt full in the ass, but I was actually starting to get used to it. What I didn't expect was that as the pain lessened, it was actually starting to feel good having something stuck up there. I didn't know how sensitive the nerves in the ass, especially around the hole, really are. But apparently they're really sensitive, and the plug being up there was starting to stimulate those nerves. I was shocked that I was starting to get turned on by having something stuffed in my ass. I tried to focus on reading, but the pleasurable feelings in my ass were starting to take over. I could feel my pussy getting wetter, my clit getting harder. I wondered when Christopher was coming back for me. I wondered if I had time to get myself off. I'd been in the room a little over an hour. Surely he wouldn't come back for me so soon. I put the book down on the other side of the bed and scooted down so that my feet were on the edge of the bed, but my butt was hanging just slightly over the edge. This was important, as having my ass flat against the bed would push the plug further inside me, and I didn't want that quite yet. I knew where Christopher kept the Hitachi, but that would be noisy. He hadn't told me I wasn't allowed to masturbate, but I didn't want to tempt fate. Using just my fingers would be much quieter. I dipped a finger inside me, scooping up some of the wetness, applying it to my clit. Then I started rubbing in quick little circles. I kept getting deliciously close, and each time I did, I could feel my ass muscles grip that plug, stimulating all those little nerves. It was putting me over the edge, and it took only a few minutes to rub myself to orgasm. As I came, my whole body shaking with pleasure, my ass gripped the plug so hard, intensifying the orgasm. I fought hard to stay quiet, a nearly impossible feat given all the intense sensations running through my body. When I recovered from the orgasm, I got up and wiped myself up with tissues from the dresser, then laid back down on my bed to read. It was still tough to concentrate on the book, but now for different reasons. I couldn't stop thinking about how amazing that had felt, to be filled in the back while the front of me came hard. The words swam in front of my eyes, and I only came out of my reverie when I heard the door open. "Hello, Belle," said Christopher. "How are you holding up?" "Better than expected, I think," I said. Not a lie. He smiled. "Excellent. Our fun shall begin soon, then." I saw him slip a DVD into the player on the dresser. I wondered what we were watching. I guessed it would be some weird sort of porn. He tossed the remote onto the nightstand and stood next to the bed. "Get on your knees, ass up," he ordered. I dutifully got into position, wondering if he'd be able to smell me, smell the sex in the air. He grasped the end of the plug, pulled gently, and it popped out, leaving my ass feeling empty. He wrapped the plug in tissues and put it on the floor. Lubing up his cock, he said, "All day I've been looking forward to fucking this tight little asshole. I'm going to try not to hurt you, but I might lose control." I nodded. What else was there for me to say? He was the one in charge here, and I was at the mercy of his whims. I cried out as he began to push himself inside me. He was longer and thicker than the plug, and even though he was going in slowly, I was starting to cramp up. "Just relax," he said. "It'll get easier." When he was all the way inside me, he moaned a little. "This feels so fucking good," he said. Maybe to him. To me, it felt equal parts slightly good and incredibly painful. "One more thing to do before I start fucking you," he said, reaching for the remote. He turned on the TV, and a video started playing. "Watch this, Belle," he whispered. I watched. It was me. Me, on my back on the bed. You could see the plug sticking out of my ass. You could see my hand rubbing furiously, then my eyes squinching shut, my mouth opening in a surprised O, and my body shaking as I came hard. And then it started playing again. I was on a loop. More specifically, me cumming was on a loop. "Do you like today's entertainment, my dear?" he asked, starting to slowly thrust in and out of me. "No," I croaked. "How...how did you...?" "Everything in here is recorded. What we're doing right now? Recorded. You sleeping? Recorded. You getting yourself off without permission? Also recorded. Now, I don't necessarily believe in telling you that you can't come without me...but I do believe in consequences if you do." He thrust harder now. "I didn't expect you to get off earlier, but was a delight it was that you did. Now I get to revel in your humiliation as I take this pretty little ass." I tried to shut my eyes, but I couldn't totally look away from myself on the big screen. It was equal parts hell and hot. So was Christopher fucking my ass. It hurt, but it also felt good; with every thrust, he tickled those nerves that had sent me over the edge earlier. But I also felt violated and vulnerable. This seemed so much more intimate than him just fucking my pussy. "Watch yourself!" he growled as he fucked me harder. He grabbed my hair and pulled so that I had no choice but to look up at myself having orgasm after orgasm. I braced myself; his pelvis kept slamming into me, and he was fucking me so hard I was having trouble balancing. But then he groaned and I felt him give me a couple last big thrusts as he came deep in my ass. I felt his cock soften inside me, and then he slipped himself out. I stayed in position, unsure of what I should do. He climbed off the bed, slapping me on the ass. "You're such a dirty girl, Belle. I'm truly enjoying turning you into my little slut." Ashamed, I looked down, not sure what to say to that. "I'm going to go get cleaned up. When I'm done, you can get cleaned up in the bathroom, too. Then I'll make dinner, and perhaps we'll relax tonight, watch a movie?" Oh, sure. Dinner and a movie, just like any normal American couple. "Whatever you want," I whispered, feeling his cum seep out of my ass and dribble down my thigh. Belle, Out of Control Ch. 06 If you'd have looked in the window, you'd have thought we looked like any young couple having dinner together. But we were not a couple, and the windows had thick curtains—plus, it felt weird to be doing something so civilized as wearing clothes and eating dinner. Especially when my dinner companion was Christopher, who had been fucking me senseless for days, in a wide variety of twisted ways. "The roast is delicious," I said, and I meant it. It was the best meal I'd had in a while, even before I was kidnapped. There was also roasted vegetables and crusty French bread for dipping in the au jus, and I took full advantage of the scrumptious food offered to me. After all, I'd earned it—and I wasn't worried about gaining any weight, since I was probably burning more calories fucking than I took in eating. "Thank you, Belle," he said. "I do enjoy cooking, and it's so nice to have someone to cook for." "I appreciate it. But I don't understand it." "What do you mean?" "You snatched me. Sexually, you treat me like somewhat of a slave. And yet here you are, cooking for me. Cleaning up after me. Buying me toiletries and clothes. Seems to go against everything we do in the bedroom." Or any other room of his choosing, really. "I like being dominant. Sometimes that means taking charge and providing for you. Sometimes that means taking charge and having you exactly as I want you." "That makes sense, I guess. It's just that I'm waiting for you to tell me to go mop the floor or something." He laughed. "That's not what I want from you. There are far better ways for you to please me. And besides, I'm pretty good at cleaning my own floors." "Thanks," I said, taking another bite. "You're cute when you eat," he said. "The first time I saw you, you were eating." "When was that?" "You were in workout clothes. It was in the afternoon, and you were nibbling on an energy bar as you mailed something at the post office. You finished the bar, took a big drink of water, and then started running toward the park. I admired your athleticism, and your dainty bites." "Of all the things to notice about me," I said, shaking my head. "Well, I also noticed your gorgeous hair, which I wanted to pull. And your tight ass, which I wanted to fuck. And your wide green eyes, which I wanted to see staring up at me as my cock was in your throat." "Now that's the Christopher I know. Complimentary, but a wee bit twisted." "Speaking of twisted, I thought you'd be more broken up by now about being missing." I considered this. "I've been thinking about it. It's been on my mind. But things here have been overwhelming, in good and bad ways. I feel a little like Alice, tumbling down the rabbit hole." "Ah, the book you were reading before you unwittingly put on a show for me." I flushed at the memory. "It was a new sensation." "I like that I'm bringing out the dirty little slut in you. Bet your friends would never have guessed the things that I have found out about you even in such a short time." I smiled wanly. "I hid it well. I was hiding some of it from myself, too." "I know. That's one of the best things about you being here. I love seeing you pushed to the limit, discovering new things about yourself, trying new things. Being scared, losing control...admit it, Belle, doesn't it feel good?" "Yes and no. I'm not sure I'll ever get used to it." "Perhaps you won't. I hope part of that is my ability to keep you on your toes. Speaking of," he said mischievously. "Tonight is Thursday night. Tomorrow we're headed off on a little adventure for the weekend." "You're taking me somewhere? Where?" "Well, that would just spoil the surprise, wouldn't it?" he said, rolling his eyes. "And...how? If I'm missing, and people may be looking for me, you probably don't want to parade me out in public or have me meet people..." "I have bought you a lovely wig, my dear. Plus, we're not all that close to where you were living, and this weekend, we'll be venturing even farther away from it." "What will we be doing?" Or, more accurately, what would I be doing? Probably something else I loved to hate... "Oh, now I really can't tell you that. But I can tell you this: we need to prepare you. So tonight you will paint your fingernails and toenails, and tomorrow, you will be shaved." "I will be shaved? You mean I'm not doing it myself?" "I don't trust you with a razor yet. So tomorrow, you will shower, and then I will shave you." My eyes widened. "Everywhere?" "Yes, everywhere. Your legs and that pretty pussy. I want you perfectly smooth." "Can you give me a hint as to what we're doing?" I asked. "Red or pink?" he said. "What?" "Nail polish. Red or pink?" The old Belle would have picked pink. But the new Belle—the one who was a wanton slut for a man she barely knew—seemed like more of a red girl. "Red, please." "Good choice. After we're done dinner, you can do your nails." "Thanks," I said, sighing. I wished I knew what to look forward to this weekend, but clearly Christopher meant to keep me in the dark. Painting my nails that night seemed like the most normal activity I'd engaged in over the course of—what, a week? Had I been gone that long? Without things like the internet, or going to work, I was rapidly losing track of time. Sometimes I even suspected I was losing track of myself. All I'd done lately was eat, sleep, read, and be at the mercy of Christopher's twisted whims. I put two coats of polish on my fingernails, then two coats on my toenails. I shook out my hands and feet, willing the polish to dry faster. Not like it mattered—where would I be going where I could fuck up still-wet nails? I decided to take a chance. I knocked on the door three times, and Christopher came to investigate. "What's up, Belle?" he asked. "Oh, your nails look very nice." "Thank you," I said. "What are you up to?" "Watching TV," he said. "And you?" "I'm a little bored," I admitted. "Bored?" he said, smiling. "You have an entire library of books at your disposal. How can you possibly be bored?" "I love reading, but I can't do it all the time. I need something else, too. A movie or a show, conversation, solitaire on the computer, just...something." He considered this. "Very well then. Come on out. We can do something together." Oh, shit. What had I gotten myself into? He led me to the living room and turned on the TV. A big cat show was on Animal Planet. He sat down on the couch and patted the space next to him. "Come on. I won't bite." I warily settled in beside him. It felt weird dealing with him in a close yet normal context, in a situation where he wasn't intensely focused on watching me squirm. "I do love big cats," he mused. "They're majestic." "A little vicious, too." "Only because they need to eat. They don't just wander the jungle stalking things just for the fun of it." "Oh, so they're not like you?" I teased. Christopher laughed. "I didn't stalk you just for the fun of it." "Why, then?" I pressed. "You know how sometimes you just know?" "Sort of," I said. "Well, I knew with you. I'd never felt it strongly before about anyone, not even my wife. This sensation that I had to have you. And so once I knew, once I figured out that I needed you here, with me, like this...I set a plan in motion. And here you are." "I'm flattered, sort of. But why couldn't you just ask me out on a date?" "I don't know that you would have accepted," he said sadly. "Why?" "Because I'm the smart guy. You're the beautiful girl. Those two don't often mix." "I'm not dumb, though. I like smart guys." "You must. You haven't tried to escape." "I've thought about it on occasion," I admitted. "I suppose that's normal, given your situation. The telling thing is that you haven't tried, even though you were tempted. I appreciate that." "Does my obedience get me any extra privileges?" "Let's see how you do this weekend," he said. "If you do well, then you will be rewarded." "And if I don't?" "That's not something I want to think about," he said softly. _________ The next morning, Christopher woke me up and offered me breakfast, which I accepted. Eggs, toast, and fruit. I ate it hurriedly, nervous but excited to get on with the day. "I would like you to go shower now, and when you're done, please call out for me." "Shave time?" I asked. "You're a smart cookie." I went back to the bedroom, shed my clothes, and headed for the bathroom. At this point, walking around naked in front of Christopher was really no big deal. The sort of thing you get used to after several days of it. I brushed my teeth, showered, and scrubbed. When I was done, I wrapped myself in a towel and called for Christopher to come. He led me into the living room, where there were towels laid out on the floor alongside a bowl of water. "Lay down, please," he instructed. I did so. "Legs first," he said, shaving my right calf, dipping the razor into the bowl every so often to rid it of hair. It didn't feel so bad. He was good with the razor, never nicking me, not even on my knees, plus I liked the way my calves felt in his strong hands. The good feelings canceled out most of the weirdness of another human being shaving me, which was something I'd never experienced before. Usually I didn't want a guy to see my legs unless they were shaved, and this guy was not only seeing my legs hair—he was shaving them for me. He took his time, stroking my legs, feeling the muscles. Muscles that I feared would weaken due to lack of physical activity—non-sexual physical activity, that is. Part of me was happy that he clearly enjoyed my body so much. Of course, another part of me feared what he might be compelled to do about it. He obviously enjoyed shaving my thighs, too. To get the bottom, he'd lift my leg up, smiling as he took in the view. He paid close attention to my inner thighs, more with his hands than the razor, and damned if it didn't feel really good. When my legs were both shaved to his satisfaction, he said, "Please spread your legs. I need to shave that pretty pussy now." Nervous, I did so. I was always so careful shaving my own girlparts, but this was a guy, and I was afraid he'd nick something. Something that would really, really hurt later on. "Relax," he said softly. "I'm being very careful. I'm not going to hurt you. But you're shaking a little, and that isn't helping me be careful." I took a deep breath and tried to steady myself. He'd shaved the front of my pussy just fine, and now he was going after the sides and the area around the lips, pulling each one out so he could shave it better. He rinsed off the razor and held his finger above the hole. "Don't jump. I just want to see if you're wet from this." I nodded, and he plunged his finger inside. When he pulled it out, it was slick with my juices. "Kinky girl," he said, smiling. He shaved the sides of my pussy and then had me lift my legs into the air so he could get better access around the hole. With one hand, he held me steady, and with the other, he shaved me. Despite my nervousness, He managed to get the entire area free of hair—and free of nicks and cuts, too. I was grateful for this and told him so. "Well then, you can repay my excellent shaving skills by being a good girl tonight, Belle." "Can you tell me any more about what's in store for me?" "And ruin the surprise?" "Not ruin," I said. "Just a hint. Please?" "You will be meeting two friends of mine," he said. "And I expect you to obey my orders when we are with them." "Do I have to fuck them?" I asked, nervous again. "Not exactly." "Do your friends already know you're a freak in the bedroom?" He laughed. "Oh yes. They were actually surprised I ended up with my wife—she was very vanilla. They won't be shocked that I'm with a girl who indulges my dark side." "Well, it's not like I really have a choice. I could beat you or join you..." "And I'm the one who would administer the beatings around here," he said cheerfully. "Anyway, these are people I have known forever and trust very much. I will be telling them you're my new girlfriend, and that you're up for...trying new things...but that you're shy about it." "What if I tell them the real story?" I asked. He shrugged. "Try it, if you really want to. But would it really change anything except make me very, very angry at you? They'd never turn me in, Belle. But if you tried to make that happen...well, you really don't want to get me that angry." "I suppose I don't," I said. "When do we leave?" "Get dressed, and then I'll get the wig on you. I will pack for both of us while you're getting ready." "Sounds like you have a plan," I said. He laughed. "Oh, yes. Yes, I do." I went and got dressed in clean yoga pants, a black tank top with neon pink bra straps peeking out from under it, and a black thong, plus black flip-flops and a gray PINK hoodie. Very casual, but it was the best I had. I figured if he wanted me to be wearing something else, he'd buy it for me. I applied minimal makeup; he'd given me back my purse (minus my cell phone), so I rummaged through it to find eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, hoping this would help to accommodate the wig. A few minutes later, he came in, holding the wig. It was a cascade of dark brown curls, and it was actually very pretty. He put a wig cap over my hair, which made me look really goofy until he put the wig on. I smiled when I saw myself in the mirror—chestnut brown was a good look for me. "You look ravishing, my dear," he murmured. "Are you going to be good for me on our weekend away?" "Yes," I said, and I think I even meant it. "Then you get your purse, and I'll get the suitcases, and we'll go." "Go" felt like a foreign term to me. I hadn't gone anywhere since being kidnapped. When Christopher opened the door and the sunshine fell over my face, I stood there dumbly, staring at the outside world. "Go on," he said, nudging me. "I am with you and I give permission, so you are allowed to go outside." He led me to his car, a dark gray Kia. I looked at him curiously. "A Kia, huh? You impressed me as maybe an old-school BMW kind of guy." "Those are classy cars, so thank you." "You're welcome." I stood next to the car door, unsure of whether to get inside or not. I was still enjoying the sensation of being outside. After he loaded the suitcases into the trunk, he came around the passenger side and opened the door. "Hop in, my dear." Indeed, he was a well-mannered monster. I got in and buckled up. "Where exactly are we going?" "The western part of the state. Out closer to Pittsburgh." "Why?" He laughed. "Because I said so. It's a lovely area, nicer than people would think, plus the people I'd like you to meet are there." Warily, I asked, "Who are they?" "They are two people I'm very close to from my college days." "Which were how long ago?" He frowned. "Belle, I'm only nine years older than you." I didn't tell him that I secretly found older men sexy. Instead I said, "So what will we be doing with them?" "That's a surprise. But while we're there, your name is Beth, you're my girlfriend, and we met at the library." "Close, huh, but not close enough to really tell them the truth?" Christopher was quit for a minute. Then he said, "Do I really need to remind you to behave? It's in your best interests, and mine as well." "I'll be good as long as I'm okay with what's going on." "Do you really think I'd let anyone hurt you?" he asked. "I can't predict you," I said. "So I really have no idea." "I'm sorry you feel that way," he said. "I suppose you still have a lot to learn." "I suppose you still have a lot to tell me." He smiled. "Touche." The ride was about two, two and a half hours long, and we chatted throughout. It was getting easier to talk to him. As controlling as he was, he seemed to want me to be honest, and he also seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say. He did not, however, seem to be very forthcoming about himself. He was curious about my job, being a high school guidance counselor, but wouldn't give me any details of his except that he worked in technology, blah blah blah. He talked about baseball (he was a Pirates fan), recipes he wanted to cook, and books he wanted to read, but didn't delve any deeper. "What was your wife like?" I asked. Startled, he said, "Why do you want to know?" "Because I'm trying to learn more about you. And learning about her helps me learn about you." "She was good," he said, and he sounded exhausted just saying the words. "She balanced me out. Opposites often attract, you know, and she was my opposite. Kind, charming, generous. You wouldn't know she came from money except that she was always giving it away, to this charity or that endeavor. She volunteered her time, too, not just her wealth." "What did she think of your job?" I asked. I kept going back to it because he was resistant to talking about it, which meant it could be juicy. "I actually wasn't working much until after she died," he said. "Really?" "I didn't need to. I worked my way through academia, earned a Ph. D. I was commissioned by certain friends to dabble in a few special projects, but I did it for the fun, not for the income." "Wow," I said. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to not have to work. "Anyway," he said, turning into a parking lot surrounded by trees, "we're here." I gazed out the window, then raised an eyebrow at him. "Taking me to the Bates Motel, are you?" "It's not bad," he protested. "It's cozy." He turned the car off. "You stay here while I go check in. No funny business. If you run off into the woods, I will find you, and I'll do things that are very unpleasant once I catch you. Understand?" "I'll be good," I said. If I wanted to escape, the time to do it would be when he didn't expect it. Right now he expected it, so right now I'd sit tight. He was in and back out in a jiffy. Either they had the world's most efficient reception desk, or he really didn't trust me. "We're all set," he said, smiling and jovial. "Let's go see the room." He unloaded the suitcases, and I followed him. The motel was a one-story building, and our room was on an end, toward the back. The place was giving me the creeps, and the location of the room wasn't helping. He unlocked the door and ushered me in, flicking on the light. The room was wood-paneled, or at least faux-wood. There were two beds with quilts that looked like they'd seen better days, plus a tube TV and a couple beat-up dressers. "Luxurious," I said, taking in my surroundings. "You want better, you have to earn better," he said. He glanced at his watch. "Okay, it's 4:45. I need you ready by 5:30." "What does ready entail?" I asked. "Take off your clothes and go touch up your hair and makeup. Then you'll put on an outfit I've chosen for you." Oh boy. Couldn't wait to see what that was. But I did as he asked, even handing him my clothes so he could fold them nicely and put them back in my suitcase. I padded into the bathroom, which was chilly but clean. I washed my face with water and no-name soap and fluffed up my wig. I walked out naked, grabbed my makeup bag, and fixed up my eyeliner, adding a little lip gloss to the look. I went back into the bedroom. "How's this?" I asked. "Beautiful," he said. "I have your outfit and shoes ready. I'd like to help put them on you." I was more than capable of dressing myself, but I agreed to let him help. He pulled out a lacy red bra and panty set. He helped me into the bra first. It was a push-up, and it gave my C-cups some oomph, making them jut out almost obscenely. The red panties were beautiful, but once he put them on my, I was horrified—but not completely surprised—to realize they were crotchless. Belle, Out of Control Ch. 06 "You're evil," I said. He laughed. "That, and you haven't even seen the shoes yet." He produced a pair of black patent-leather hooker-style heels, which he strapped and buckled onto my feet. I sighed. "Now what?" I asked. "Now we wait for Brian." Ten minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Christopher opened it and greeted his friend warmly, inviting him in. "Wow," said Brian, eyeing me up. "Your new girlfriend is a real stunner." "She sure is," Christopher said proudly. "Beth, this is Brian, my old college roommate." "Pleased to meet you," I said, even though I wasn't at all sure that I was. "So everything we discussed, that's still okay?" Brian asked Christopher. "Of course. Just make sure you don't do anything off-limits, and you can do all that we talked about." Brian eyed me up again. "Wow. Thanks, man." "Beth," said Christopher, "please get on one of the beds and lie back. I want your feet to be on the very edge of the end of the bed." I climbed onto one of the double beds and did as Christopher asked. He sat on the other double bed, while Brian pulled the ratty-looking desk chair over to the end of the bed I was on. "Now be friendly, Beth, and spread your legs for Brian." Blushing, I did so. I'd known this guy for all of two minutes and he was already getting to see my bald pussy through these damn crotchless panties. "Very nice," Brian said appreciatively. Then, to Christopher, "May I start?" "Momentarily. Beth," said Christopher, "a few nights ago I happened to stimulate your feet, and I could tell from the way you reacted that something about it turned you on very much. It just so happens that my friend here loves feet, and I am going to allow him to go to town on yours. Be good and indulge him." Brian unbuckled the hooker heels and let them fall to the floor. "I like the shoes," he said, "but I want the girl." He took one foot in each hand and began massaging them, gentle at first and then harder. I sighed with pleasure. Not only did he have skilled fingers, but there was one part of my feet—in the middle, near the arch—that he'd touch, and I felt it all the way up in my clit. He lowered his mouth to my left foot and tongued the bottom of it. I moaned—it was both pleasurable and tickly at the same time. He worked his way up and began sucking on my toes, one by one. From my pinky toe to my big toe, he sucked, licked, and even nibbled on each toe, and he was eliciting sounds out of me that I didn't even know I could make. He took his time, but when he got to my right foot, I was so turned on that I was pushing my foot into him, imploring him to give me more, harder, faster. "Beth, you should see yourself right now," Christopher called out. "Do you realize you're fucking the air? Are you that turned on by what Brian is doing to you?" "Yes," I cried out, embarrassed, but not caring as much as usual. "It's quite the sight to see. I do enjoy seeing you writhe like that." I could barely even focus on Christopher's words. Brian's licking and nibbling was pushing me so very close to the edge. "Christopher?" I asked softly. "Yes, my dear?" "May I please cum?" "Well now!" he chuckled. "This, from the girl who is always begging me not to make her cum. And now you want to?" "Yes. Please," I moaned. Brian's sucking was getting even more enthusiastic, and it was driving me beyond wild. "You can cum when I say you can," he said. "Please, please, please!" I begged. He ignored me. "Brian, when you're ready, feel free to finish in the way we talked about." I suddenly felt a little panicky. Was this stranger going to fuck me? Was Christopher really going to share me like that? Whore me out to his friend? "Mmph," said Brian, his mouth still busy on my foot. I heard a belt buckle and pants fall to the floor, and I wondered what Christopher was up to. Was he going to fuck me while Brian was pleasuring my feet? I felt Christopher climb onto the bed, but he didn't go anywhere near my wet pussy or engorged clit. Instead, he came up closer to my face. "Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked softly. "Yes," I whispered. "Christopher, please let me cum." "You will cum when I say you can," he reminded me. "Now be a good girl and open your mouth." I opened wide, and Christopher plunged himself in. This was no leisurely blowjob; he was fucking my face. As I tried hard not to choke or gag on his cock, I felt a new sensation at my feet. Brian's tongue was gone, replaced with what I believed to be his cock. He was rubbing his hard cock all over my feet. Between Christopher pounding my face, Brian jerking off against my feet, and my poor, turned-on pussy being completely ignored, my body was on fire, and I'd never felt so lustful in my life. I looked up at Christopher, begging him with wide eyes to let me cum. I couldn't even see his face; all I saw was him coming down fast and hard, impaling me with every thrust. I heard grunts coming from the end of the bed, and then I felt something wet on my feet. Not a tongue this time. This was cum. He'd just cum all over my feet! I could tell Christopher was almost ready to cum, too. I made noise around his cock, begging again, but it only served to turn him on more. When he came, he came hard, and it felt like it went directly down my throat. Except for the small amount that dribbled over my lips—which I think was deliberate on his part—as he removed his cock from my mouth. "You were marvelous, Beth," Christopher said. "Oh god," said Brian, "yes, you were." "Thank you," I whispered. "But...what about me?" "Do you still want to cum, Beth?" "Yes," I said desperately. "Please!" "Then play with yourself." "With both of you watching?" "Oh, yes. I think this is something we both want to see. And if you want to cum that badly, you'll do it." Hesitantly, I reached down and started rubbing my clit through the panties. Both men leaned in, watching. I spread my legs wider, not caring about who saw. I just needed to get off. I rubbed harder, faster... "Stop," Christopher said. "What?" I asked, sure I hadn't heard him correctly. "Stop. You cum when I say you do. And tonight, you don't get to." "Did I do something wrong?" I asked, confused, disappointed, and, even more than that, humiliated. I'd put on a show for these men, let them both use my body however they pleased, and I couldn't even finish rubbing myself to orgasm? "You did everything right, my dear. I'm just evil," he said softly. Both men laughed at this. "But..." I protested. "Tonight, Beth, you don't get to cum. There will be severe punishment if you do. However, I can assure you of this. Tomorrow night, you will cum." "I can't wait until tomorrow!" "You can, and you will. Now, Brian is going to get dressed and head home, and you and I are going to order takeout and watch whatever's on the TV here, and I am going to make sure you don't get off until you're supposed to." "Um...okay," I said, feeling stunned. "Say goodbye to Brian. Thank him for a lovely time." "Thank you, Brian," I said obediently. "You do great things to feet." He wiped the cum off the bottom of my feet. "Thank you, Beth. It was sure nice to meet you. You have amazing feet." "My girlfriend will be in your spank bank for years to come, won't she?" Christopher laughed, nudging Brian. "Guilty as charged," said Brian, heading for the door, leaving me alone with the most wicked man I'd ever known. Feeling small and powerless, I looked over at Christopher. "Do you mean it about tomorrow? Do you promise?" He grinned evilly. "I'm a man of my word," he said. "Tomorrow night will be very special indeed."