© Copyright 2011 - D Ro - Used by permission
Storycodes: F/m; bond; slave; cartrunk; tape; gag; transport; domme; captive; breathplay; cons/reluct; XX
She wasn't smiling when she presented the big red ballgag. Hours later, he'd wish he'd taken that lack of humor as a warning sign. But love is blind, and when the woman you love (and, on occasion, worship) has your hands and elbows tied tightly behind your back and proceeds to take out a new toy that she'd always said she didn't particularly care for ("I don't really like 'hardware')... well, you'd do just about anything she asked. Smile or not.
And he did love her. God, how he loved her.
He started to speak, then thought better of it. Although "thought" was fading quickly into that serene and peaceful place... the place where there was nothing in the whole world but her... Her... where he was free from all the troubles of the world and worries of life, safely bound and helpless and in her care.
She must've seen that brief moment when he almost spoke, because she sprang on him with a ferocity that turned him on and and made him sigh and close his eyes. Quickly and forcefully she slammed the big red ball into his mouth, and held it there for a few moments, staring deeply into his eyes. Taking him in. She'd said once that she loved doing these things to him because she loved the way he looked at her in these moments. "With such love."
She lingered another second before circling behind him, then, with only a hint of a fumble, tightly strapped and buckled the ballgag into place. He loved the way it felt, and loved it infinitely more when she reached around from behind him and put her hand over the gag, using her other arm to pull him close against her body.
Then she was gone. She seemed to love that, as well. The "hit and run;" the touch and tease, then abrupt stop. It drove him crazy, and that was fine by both of them. When she reappeared in front of him a few moments later (and by now he was so enraptured with her that his heart skipped a beat when she reappeared after only seconds away), she had his collar and leash in her hand. He was breathing heavy now, eyes half open, feeling somewhere between drunk and Heaven. He still couldn't believe she'd bought these things for him. When he'd mentioned that he'd thought a collar and leash were cool a few months back, he'd been shocked when she grabbed her car keys and said, "let's go." She'd had an incredible calm self assurance while leading him by the hand into the pet store. She'd asked him which collars he liked, but he could only stand and stammer. He'd wanted to answer but had become nearly crippled with self-consciousness. And so finally she picked the collar she liked best. Which was fine by him.
Now she put the collar on him, and buckled it to it's tightest (she hadn't liked how loose it'd originally been, so she'd spent a few minutes making new holes so it fit nice and snuggly). Again she looked into his eyes... and again, he realized only much later... he hadn't liked what he saw. She was turned on, for sure. But here was also a sadness there... pity.
And then the moment was gone. She turned her back to him and pulled on his leash for him to follow. They were headed for her garage, a place they'd never taken their kinky fun. His thoughts raced; he knew she had some racks on the wall that they'd joked about before... how nicely they'd work in keeping his arms tied above him. But instead she lead him to the back of her car, left him there while she opened her drivers side door... and popped the trunk.
His knees actually buckled.
By now he was as turned on as he'd ever been. They'd talked about this kind of thing, too. And she had shown herself to be bold and creative. But still... he was shocked. "Come on, slave. Get in." She grinned an evil sideways grin; his eyes darted back and forth, not really sure if he was ready to take this step. "Oh, stop. You know you want this. Now get your ass in the trunk!" She shoved him. Not hard enough to knock him over, but hard enough for him to struggle with his balance. Without much of a fight, he did as he was told and climbed into the trunk.
"Your favorite thing," she said, as she grabbed a roll of duct tape from the trunk and held it up in front of him. She leaned in close to his face, the duct tape held between her eyes and his. Still with the evil half-grin, she ever so slowly grabbed at the loose end of the tape and made the smallest of tugs. Then she tugged again. And again. Slowly pulling it from the roll, making that loud ripping sound that turned him on so much. Then she just laughed, a pleasant and knowing laugh, and quickly began to tape up his legs. First at the ankles, then just above his knees. When she was done, she cinched the tape between his ankles and attached them to his wrists, which she also cinched with tape. Hogtied, ballgagged in his girlfriend's trunk...
He looked up at her, as she looked down at him. He was in Heaven and she was everything to him. He looked at her with gratitude and love and wanted nothing more than what he had at this moment. He moaned into his gag, unintentionally. It was a moan of longing and submissive happiness. He made an innocent puckering of his lips, desperate for just one kiss... and then was in total darkness as she slammed the trunk shut.
The ride wasn't quite what he expected (and he'd get used to "not what I expected" very shortly). The dark he liked... but, man!, was it bumpy! Every time she hit any kind of uneven pavement, let alone a pothole, he would bounce helplessly about the trunk. He tried his best to protect himself, but she had him tied pretty well. He supposed if he really HAD to, he could probably work his way free. But, really... why would he want to do that?
The ride seemed to go on forever; it didn't take long for him to lose track of time. Despite the bouncing, he found himself dozing for short periods of time (seconds?). Which was wonderful, because it was an intense turn-on to wake up and have those few seconds where he didn't quite remember how he had gotten bound and gagged. It made it all seem so... real.
Real. Sometimes he had a problem with believing any of this was real. He often felt that good things never happened to him. But Sarah... Sarah was real. She was, easily, the best thing that had ever happened to him. Smart, sexy, fit... kind, thoughtful, challenging. She was everything he'd ever wanted and so much more. And perhaps best of all, she surprised him.
When they'd first gotten together, he'd been having a rough time of it. Recently divorced and having been through a disastrous relationship with a magnetic but taxing bipolar girl, he hadn't really been ready for a new relationship. Sad, hurt, jaded and cynical, Sam probably should've taken some time to get his life together.
But he'd met Sarah, and she'd wanted to be with him so badly. In a sense, she had saved him. Saved him from the self-imposed misery and self-pity he was wallowing in. Made him trust and feel alive again. And the sex had been amazing. The best he'd ever had, and probably just because he'd never connected with a woman on the level he'd connected with Sarah. Perhaps best of all, she accepted his kinks. Growing up, it'd always been a source of confusion and shame. His marriage hadn't changed those feelings much.
His wife would indulge him; she'd tie him up, follow his script, do the best she could. But she was unimaginative and lacked any real desire to play. She had loved Sam, and had done it only out of that love. Over the years, she came to resent that it was the only way she could turn him on. And it took the break-up for Sam to realize that he hadn't been that attracted to her; that the games they played were a sad replacement for the passion he would later find with Sarah.
When they had met, Sam had gone into it with his mind firmly made up to never tell her about his kinky likes. He really liked Sam from the get go, but there was no way he was going to jeopardize such a promising relationship by revealing how fucked up he was. And sex with Sarah had been good. Very, very good. He felt like he would've been content to have nothing but "vanilla" sex with her his whole life.
But the truth has a way of coming out. When they'd made love, Sam found he couldn't resist. It just came natural. He was pulling her hair. Grabbing her wrists. Gently tugging her wrists behind her, when she'd be on top. It took all his willpower not to put his hand over her mouth, because he had enough sense to realize that'd be taking it just a little too far. One day, sitting and watching some crime drama on TV that featured the serial killer of the week's victim bound and gagged, she'd made some kind of comment about "is that why you like bondage so much?" He avoided the subject, mortified.
About a week later, after a fun night out drinking, they'd been having passionate sex when Sarah whispered in his ear "do you want to tie my wrists?" Sam was mortified again. Of course he wanted to tie her wrists... and here she was asking HIM to do it, instead of him trying to decide if he should bring it up some day. But all his old feelings of shame and guilt were right there on the surface... and the fear that she'd reject him if she knew. But... again... she was asking HIM.
"I think I have some handcuffs around here somewhere," he'd said.
"I don't really like 'hardware,' she replied. "I have a tie that goes with one of the shirts I brought over. We could use that."
He thought again.
"Get it," he'd said.
From there, things went from great to amazing. They'd talked about things, and Sam slowly began to tell her everything. She was almost dismissive. "Oh, that's it?" A "what's the big deal" kind of attitude that was in no way cruel; instead it was meant to reassure. She'd made him feel normal, made him feel accepted. Loved.
As the weeks and months went on, they played more and more, seamlessly integrating all manner of play into their sex lives. Sometimes it was straight sex, no kink at all. And those times were still wonderful. But when ribbons from the local craft store came into play, or some duct tape... it took things to a new level. He loved to tie her up, and she was incredibly sexy to him bound and gagged. But his submissive side always seemed to want to come out, and more and more he found himself being tied. She took to that role beautifully. Sometimes she'd be self conscious about it. Question herself. But they always talked through it.
Her playing the dominant role only strengthened his love for her. He'd always tended to obsess over the object of his eye, ever since puberty grew into high school. He'd want whoever he currently obsessed over, wanted her with all his heart, thinking about nothing else but her. Worship her from afar. Now, for the first time ever, he was allowed to worship up close. It was an incredible, liberating feeling.
God, how he loved her.
The car stopped, breaking him free of his reverie. He'd been lost in thought, drifting wonderfully free, smiling despite the ballgag. Suddenly he was alert again, and his curiosity kicked into overdrive. He heard and felt her car door open. Then close. He couldn't hear her footsteps, but he imagined he could. He waited for the trunk to pop open, but for a few minutes, it didn't. A note of unease came over him, but he quickly dismissed it. He trusted her, and so he embraced the anticipation.
Minutes passed. Finally, he heard and felt her car door open again, followed by the starting of the car. There was a rumble that took him only a moment to recognize as an electric garage door opener, and he realized that they had returned to her house. The car moved forward briefly, then stopped again, followed by the sound of the garage door once again. Then the car stopped, and he heard the pop of the trunk.
The trunk sprang open and the light from the garage immediately blinded him. He closed his eyes tightly and never got a chance to see her, as a strip of duct tape was placed firmly over his eyes. He felt her roughly grab his legs and begin cutting away the tape that bound his wrists to his ankles, then the tape that bound his lower legs. Next he felt a strong tug on his collar. He clumsily pulled his legs over the ledge of the trunk, standing awkwardly, using his bound hands to brace himself against the car.
"Ready?" she asked.
"Mm-hmm," he mumbled through the ballgag.
He felt another tug from the collar and leash as she guided him around the car. He heard a door open, and was led through it, before hearing it close again. It was then that he realized something wasn't quite right. Her house had stairs leading up from the garage. There had been no stairs.
His excitement spiked once again, delighted at the intrigue and mystery of it all. He was led a few more steps, before she ordered him, "lay down here." He did, onto a thin but not uncomfortable carpet. Then his legs were taped again from his knees to his ankles and reattached to his wrists.
Without warning the duct tape was ripped from his eyes. He blinked briefly before his eyes focused on the woman sitting on a chair in front of him... and gasped when he realized it was not Sarah. She was striking. Tall, raven black hair, with a hard but immensely amused smirk that was not quite a smile. She had on a tight black long sleeve shirt and equally tight black jeans, with the highest heeled boots he'd ever seen.
That word popped in his head again, as it often did when Sarah played out his fantasies. He was shocked, in awe, and would've been speechless even without the gag. Sarah was a pretty conservative woman, which was why she was able to constantly surprise him in the bedroom. But this... whatever was happening... this was almost too shocking to believe.
Sam couldn't see Sarah, but he could feel her standing over him. The raven haired woman looked up, away from him, and began regarding Sarah. There was a look of expectancy on her face, and then what seemed like... sympathy?
"Go ahead, honey. Just get it done, " she said to Sarah, gently.
Sam's brow furrowed in confusion. He wondered what just happened, when Sarah scrunched down in front of him.
And she was crying.
Sam's natural protective instincts kicked in. He mumbled a "honey?" from his ballgag and tried unsuccessfully to sit up. Sarah saw the concern on his face, and her head tilted as her hand went to her mouth. Her other hand stroked his face as she said mournfully, "oh, baby."
He muffled a "what's wrong" and a "what's happening" as he began to struggle uncomfortably against his bonds. Finally, with her tears now streaming freely, she spoke.
"I'm so, so sorry to do this, baby. You know... I DO love you. And I know we don't fight tooth and nail... but we do fight. We just can't seem to get on the same page. I know you like to spend a lot of time with me, and I just need more space than that. And our schedules are too different, and..." she seemed to be searching for the words, trying to decide if she should go on. She glanced over her shoulder at the lady Sam had already completely forgotten about, and she nodded sadly.
"I don't think this is a viable relationship."
His eyes grew wide. "What?" he tried to say, instead coming out mostly as an extended "wha" sound. He continued to try to speak, because that's what you do when your love is breaking up with you; you speak. You beg, you plead, you put your best argument forward, your most convincing reasons why she might be making a terrible mistake. Only he couldn't, because he was gagged. And suddenly, this was no longer a fact that turned him on. It was horrible.
"Look," she continued. "This is really hard for me. And I knew you'd try to talk me out of it, and I made up my mind weeks ago. I was afraid I wouldn' t have the guts. You're so sweet; it breaks my heart to hurt you." He could tell by the look in her eyes that it did hurt her. There had never been anything phony about Sarah, and that didn't seem to be changing now. "A few months ago I was looking into local dominatrixes. Just for fun, trying to learn some stuff, some things we could do, some ways to make you happy. And I came across Mistress Julia here. One of the 'services' she offered is called 'break-up recovery.' She-"
At this Sam began violently pulling at his bonds, yelling at her to stop through his gag. His adrenaline was pumping and he wanted to be free right now. With all his strength he tried to wrench his wrists apart... with all the leverage he could muster, using all the strength in his shoulders and legs he tried to pull free of his hogtie. But there was no give. None at all. For the first time in his life, after years and years of fantasizing about being tied up... he was. He was truly in bondage. And it was the worst, most frustrating experience he could have ever imagined.
Sarah looked back again over her shoulder at Mistress Julia. Again she nodded, this time a little more firmly. Sarah turned again to Sam, whose angry pleas had suddenly turned to desperation. "Oh, Sam, please don't look at me that way. This is SO hard. But I committed to doing this. And I figured since I was doing it anyway, I might as well give you this final gift. Mistress Julia here is going to take you. Just for the weekend. She says she does this all the time; she's going to help you ease into the transition. She says if the weekend goes well, maybe you could even stay on as her slave." Sarah seemed to brighten hopefully at this idea. For most of his life, this would have been a fantasy too good to be true. Now it was nothing but a fucking nightmare he couldn't do anything to stop.
He began weeping uncontrollably. Begging her not to do this.
"Oh, baby, please don't cry-"
"Okay, okay, sweetie. That's enough, " Mistress Julia stood up and walked over to Sarah. She put her hand on her shoulder, and Sarah looked up at her. "I told you this wasn't going to be easy for either of you. But you've said what needed to be said. Anything more will just prolong his pain. You owe it to him to let go now. Let me take care of him now. You've done right. I'll take good care of him. I promise."
"But... are you sure-"
"Yes, sweetie. I've done this before. It's never easy, but you've done as well as anyone else has. And I'm telling you that it's time to let go. And go. You don't even have to say goodbye if you don't want to. Just go."
There was a heavy pause that hung in the air, that seemed to last forever. Sam was holding his breath, his heart and mind still desperately hoping this was somehow a joke, a trick. His frustration still unbelievable, as his world was ending completely outside of his control.
And then Sarah did go. Just like that. She stood up and ran out of the room.
Just like that, she was gone.
After everything. All the love in his heart. All the hope in the world. How long he'd waited for her, for "her." Ten minutes ago he was in Heaven. Now what was happening to him was beyond his ability to comprehend. His life was over. His world was over. He knew this was no exaggeration. Not for him, not for the way he was.
Just like that.
She was gone.
How he'd always desired it, in his fantasies. And now here real was, and he didn't want it. He wanted to be untied, to be free. To go after Sarah and talk to her, beg her. And failing that... to find a quiet corner to roll up into a ball. But he couldn't. His girlfriend, the love of his life, had made a truly bizarre decision that baffled him. He understood it on some level, but it still smacked of betrayal. Of an easy way out. Yes, it hurt her to break up with him. Of that he was sure. And he was also sure that she really thought "giving" him to a dominatrix would be fun for him. But he also knew that now she didn't have to face him; that she could avoid the confrontation of a tear-filled break-up. And he kind of felt he at least deserved that.
No, this wasn't real. It was surreal. All his fantasies reduced to a nightmare. He loved being tied up. He never imagined this scenario, where he was completely bound and wanted to be free.
Mistress Julia sat on the floor next to his face and spoke.
"I'm really sorry about this, sweetie. I know how hard it is. But we'll have fun, I promise. And maybe you won't forget her completely, but you will forget her for at least this weekend. And that will only help you going forward, proving that you CAN get over her. It'll give you strength. And besides... I do think you're kind of cute. What your girlfriend told me about you... you have potential. Maybe you'll even want to stay longer. And maybe I'll let you. We'll have to see, though."
Sam stared at her. He heard every word, but it was like overhearing a conversation from two rooms away. Like his mind was two sentences behind what she was saying. He tried to speak to her now, with all his sounds muffled through the ballgag. But if he was slow enough, he felt like he could be understood.
"Look, Miss Julia. Could you please-"
"Shhhhhh," she interrupted. "There are rules here. I know you didn't come here voluntarily, but we both know you understand who is in charge. So just-"
Sam began to scream and thrash about, backing Mistress Julia away. All his earlier desperation was magnified by 10, this time the frustration overshadowed by rage. "Fuck this!" he thought. Rage bordering on panic, a NEED to be free NOW. He pulled again at his bonds, at the duct tape binding his wrists and elbows, his ankles and knees. With all his strength and more he pulled, bellowing into the ballgag. And with a snap that surprised everyone in the room, the tape that hogtied his wrists to his ankles was broken and his feet came smashing to the floor.
The adrenaline subsided in that moment; at first Sam felt triumphant. His struggled had started to free him. But then he noticed Mistress Julia laughing at him.
"Hahaha! Oh, that was fucking fantastic! Wow. I didn't think you had it in you. Such a small and weak little man, and you managed to almost break free. I was right. You do have potential."
Sam thought he knew what being in shock felt like now. He was overwhelmed, his mind racing so fast he couldn't keep a single thought. Mistress Julia sat down next to him, leaning against the couch. She pulled him to her, leaning his back against her front, his bound hands up against her legs and his head against her breasts. She began to rub his head.
"Shhhhh. There there. Relax. This won't be so bad."
Sam was drained, but couldn't bring himself to a point where this situation was okay. It felt... gross. Unclean. He felt gross. He didn't want this, not now. Maybe not ever again.
"Pease (please). I jus wanna go home."
"Awww. Not gonna happen, sweetie. Sorry. But look, I do need something from you. I have this contract here," she produced a piece of paper. "I know it's hard with your hands tied, but I need you to sign it. Initial it at least. All it says is that you have consented to be my slave for the weekend. Standard stuff, just to be cautious."
Sam tilted his head and looked up at her with confusion. "Are you fucking serious," he tried to say, and apparently Mistress Julia was a pro at understanding gagged men, because she looked sternly into his eyes and said, "yes, slave, I'm quite serious."
"No fucking way."
She sighed. "I was afraid you'd say that. Look, everyone signs in the end. And everyone, 100% of the people I've done this with, have thanked me in the end. Enthusiastically. Most want to stay longer, or come back again. I promise you'll enjoy it. So just give it a chance. What do you say, sweetie?"
Sam sighed, too. She was sending mixed messages, but Sam let his guard down for a minute and allowed his mind to slow down and open. But almost immediately, Sarah's face came into his head and he knew he just couldn't do it. Just couldn't be here.
"I'm sorry, but no. Please just untie me."
"Here, let's try this first." Before Sam knew what had happened, a clear plastic bag had been brought down over his head. His eyes bulged in surprise, his body tensing again, beginning to once again test his bonds. He began to ask what she was doing when he felt her hand stick the end of a roll of duct tape to his neck and begin wrapping it around.
"You've got about a minute, maybe two. Of air. Before you pass out. So what do you say. Sign it?"
"What the fuck?!" he tried to say, even more muffled than before. His struggles grew desperate almost immediately, taking up air faster than if he'd been able to stay calm. He thrashed about, but Mistress Julia wrapped her legs around his body and held him firmly with her arms.
"Sign it?" she calmly asked.
Sam struggled, but was helpless. He was in a panic. The bag was getting tighter and tighter with each inhale. Each inhale was coming quicker and quicker. He instinctively tried to shake his head around, trying to shake the bag off. But it was pointless, hopeless.
He tried to scream, but with the air quickly fading, it was hard.
"Sign it?" calmly, again.
The bag was now tight against his face. No air left. His lungs burnt, and he was terrified. He began to nod is head vigorously, desperately. "Yes!" he tried to say, but it was impossible with no air.
And just like that, there was air, as Mistress Julia ripped open the bag in front of his nose and mouth.
Sam gasped wildly, a deep and wonderful breath. He was exhausted.
"I have a confession to make," Mistress Julia said, in a monotone that struck Sam as strange. "Your pretty little girlfriend is an idiot. Contract? Ha."
Sam heard the duct tape being pulled from the roll again.
"It's true, I have had many like you before. But the fact is... they don't usually leave."
She attached the duct tape to his mouth, over the ballgag, and began winding it around his head.
"Actually. They NEVER leave."
She kept wrapping the duct tape, within seconds completely covering the ballgag, his mouth, his chin...
"Oh, sure. I make money as a dominatrix. It's a perfect cover."
Sam was wide eyed. Almost hypnotized by this new turn of events. Still she kept wrapping, now covering his eyes.
"But the truth is... I love fucking with little shits like you. Nothing turns me on more."
The tone of her voice... Sam was sure. She was getting off on this. She kept wrapping as she talked, and Sam recognized his next thought as absurd. "Won't taking this duct tape off hurt?"
Mistress Julia was no longer speaking, instead moaning and grinding against him, as she continued to wrap the tape around his head. Without slowing down, without hesitating, she wrapped the tape over his nose, completely sealing him in. And still she kept wrapping. And wrapping. And wrapping.
Sam was in the dark. Blind, mute and unable to breath. His body was tensed. There was no panic now, but there was no pleasure, either. And as Mistress Julia continued to get off on him, continuing to wrap and wrap his head in layer upon layer of duct tape, Sam's last thought was of Sarah as he blacked out. And how epically she had betrayed him.
And how much he loved her anyway.